“What does it matter? She is mine. She is mine!” cried the devil, tremulous with passion, for the hoodoo had given him a human heart in order to torment him and to change the charm. “Do you think that I would yield her now, to such dirty scum as you?” “I will protect her with my life, even if I cannot win her,” said Marse Charles, hotly, for the devil in his rage had let loose Marse Charles’s conscience. “Choose your weapons,” said the other, mockingly, “for the sword of the devil is a double-pointed sword; it wounds the soul, not the flesh—the spirit, not the body.” And back of the orchard, said Mammy, while the whole world was asleep, was fought grimly and silently the bitterest duel of the earth. There were no witnesses save Zacheus, and though he rendered yeoman service to his mistress and to her lover’s bartered soul, he looked upon the duel, and Mammy solemnly declared that the sight of it made him blind. Through and through, the devil thrust Marse Charles, but the blade came out dry and bright; not a drop of blood was spilled; and after Marse Charles’s lunges, Zacheus swore that he could see the light through the body of the devil. Marse Charles was almost sinking to his knees, and the devil raised his arms exulting, when on a sudden impulse Marse Charles rose with a mighty effort and made a double cut in the shape of a cross on the breast of his opponent. That was what he should have done long ago, said Mammy; even if he had only worn a little gold cross on his watch-guard it would have been a protection, for at Marse Charles’s new movement the devil gave one hoarse cry and fled into the shadows of the breaking day. Of course the “Quality” at the Big House did not know of the plotting that had been going on, or of the fearful duel that had ended it. _They_ were not the privileged beings of the earth, and so they only knew it was with pale brow and downcast eyes that Marse Charles came to say farewell, and that Marse Beverly Baillie clapped him on the shoulder, like the good soul that he was, by way of comfort— “To think my minx Demetria should flirt you!” cried Marse Beverly; “for she marries Avery in the fall. But cheer up, lad, cheer up! there ’re as good fish yet to catch as ever have been caught.” ASMODEUS IN THE QUARTERS Mammy did not tell this story very often; it was held in reserve as an especial reward. Whether it was of African origin, and by one of those strange coincidences bore a resemblance to the classic, or was a garbled negro version of it, is lost in conjecture; but certain it is, that almost within ear-shot of a doting but unknowing mother, many a childish ambition has been fired “ter rise wid Satan.” And this is the way Mammy told it to the little night-gowned cherubs whom she wanted to get to sleep: