"I could just hear the keening of the wind outside. A dim light glimmered near the altar, and in one of the oaken stalls I saw a bent form praying. I knelt a long time. I did not pray. At first I scarcely thought definitely. Only, I received into my heart the strange, indelible impression of this wonderful place; and, as I knelt, my eyes were ever upon that dark praying figure near to me. By degrees I imagined that a wave of sympathy flowed from it to me, that in this monk's devotions my name was not forgotten. "'What absurd tricks our imaginations can play us!' you will say. "I grew to believe that he prayed for me, there, under the dim light from the tall tapers. "What blessing did he ask on me? I could not tell; but I longed that his prayer might be granted. "And then, Bernard, at last he rose. He lifted his face from his hands and stood up. Something in his figure seemed so strangely familiar to me, so strangely that, on a sudden, I longed, I craved to see his face. "He seemed about to retreat through a side door near to the altar; then he paused, appeared to hesitate, then came down the chapel towards me. As he drew near to me--I scarcely knew why--but I hid my face deep in my hands, with a dreadful sense of overwhelming guilt which dyed my cheeks with blood. I shrank--I cowered. I trembled and was afraid. Then I felt a gentle touch on my shoulder. I looked up into the face of the monk. "Bernard, it was the face of my invisible companion--it was my own face. "The monk looked down into my eyes searchingly. He recoiled. "'_Mon demon!_' he whispered in French. '_Mon demon!_' "For a moment he stood still, like one appalled. Then he turned and abruptly quitted the chapel. "I started up to follow him, but something held me back. I let him go, and I listened to hear if his tread sounded upon the chapel floor as a human footstep, if his robe rustled as he went. "Yes. Then he was, indeed, a living man, and it was a human voice which had reached my ears, not a voice of imagination. He was a living man, this double of my body, this antagonist of my soul, this being who called me demon, who fled from me, who, doubtless, hated me. He was a living man. "I could not sleep that night. This encounter troubled me. I felt that it had a meaning for me which I must discover, that it was not chance which had led me to take this cold road to the sunshine. Something had bound me with an invisible thread, and led me up here into the clouds, where already I--or the likeness of me--dwelt, perhaps had been dwelling for many years. I had looked upon my living wraith, and my living wraith had called me demon. "How could I sleep?