BOOK XI.

L. The Ruins of the Abbey of St. John the Baptist
LI.  The Calvary
LII.  The Council
LIII.  Happiness
LIV.  Duty
LV.  The Improvised Hospital
LVI.  Hydrophobia
LVII.  The Guardian Angel
LVIII.  Ruin
LIX.  Memories
LX.  The Ordeal
LXI.  Ambition
LXII.  To a Socius, a Socius and a Half
LXIII.  Faringhea’s Affection
LXIV.  An Evening at St. Colombe’s
LXV.  The Nuptial Bed
LXVI.  A Duel to the Death
LXVII.  A Message
LXVIII.  The First of June

EPILOGUE.

I. Four Years After
II.  The Redemption

CHAPTER L.

The ruins of the abbey of st. John the Baptist.

The sun is fast sinking.  In the depths of an immense piny wood, in the midst of profound solitude, rise the ruins of an abbey, once sacred to St. John the Baptist.  Ivy, moss, and creeping plants, almost entirely conceal the stones, now black with age.  Some broken arches, some walls pierced with ovals, still remain standing, visible on the dark background of the thick wood.  Looking down upon this mass of ruins from a broken pedestal, half-covered with ivy, a mutilated, but colossal statue of stone still keeps its place.  This statue is strange and awful.  It represents a headless human figure.  Clad in the antique toga, it holds in its hand a dish and on that dish is a head.  This head is its own.  It is the statue of St. John the Baptist and Martyr, put to death by wish of Herodias.

The silence around is solemn.  From time to time, however, is heard the dull rustling of the enormous branches of the pine-trees, shaken by the wind.  Copper-colored clouds, reddened by the setting sun, pass slowly over the forest, and are reflected in the current of a brook, which, deriving its source from a neighboring mass of rocks, flows through the ruins.  The water flows, the clouds pass on, the ancient trees tremble, the breeze murmurs.

Suddenly, through the shadow thrown by the overhanging wood, which stretches far into endless depths, a human form appears.  It is a woman.  She advances slowly towards the ruins.  She has reached them.  She treads the once sacred ground.  This woman is pale, her look sad, her long robe floats on the wind, her feet covered with dust.  She walks with difficulty and pain.  A block of stone is placed near the stream, almost at the foot of the statue of John the Baptist.  Upon this stone she sinks breathless and exhausted, worn out with fatigue.  And yet, for many days, many years, many centuries, she has walked on unwearied.