“The blessed saints will bear me witness that I am here against my will,” he protested. “Besides that I am protected by a scapulary and a piece of consecrated palm against the attacks of evil spirits.” As the mysterious sounds were resumed, the bushranger looked up gravely from his prayers. “Ah! well, Mesdames and Messieurs, will you now believe the word of a man who has not gained his knowledge from books? Midnight, the first night of the new moon, that unearthly music! _Voilà!_” “Bah! that is a seal on the rocks far in the distance,” responded du Chesne promptly. “_Mon dieu!_ I fear—I would I had not ventured—I dare not!” Madame de St. Rochs turned her troubled childish face towards her companions, her brown eyes moist with tears, when informed that those who would penetrate the mysteries of futurity must, one by one, accompany the witch into still deeper recesses of the forest. Du Chesne jestingly assured her that as matron of the party she should set an example of dignified courage. “Let us return, Cecile,” proposed her husband. Young as he was, Armand de St. Rochs had already given incontestible proofs of gallantry, but he had no taste for ghostly terrors and would have avoided them. But the girl-wife’s curiosity still exceeded her fear; she would not consent to abandon her project. “_Parbleu!_ that is demanding too much of a lady. It is the gentlemen’s place to lead the way,” proposed Crisasi. “I shall be charmed to venture first. Having little to risk and much to hope—.” “And being, as your friends are well aware, a stranger to fear,” interrupted du Chesne, laying his hand upon his companion’s shoulder in a friendly persuasive fashion. When after an interval the Chevalier returned to the party his smile was as suave, his tone as bland as usual. No one would have divined that the Sicilian had received, and accepted as irrevocable, his death-warrant. Toward Diane he had gained a new confidence; his manner was respectful, as became a gentleman, but he scarcely withdrew his eyes from her face. The miserable past and doubtful future were forgotten in the rich flavor of the exquisite present, intensified now by the conviction of its brief duration. Du Chesne presently reappeared, looking flushed and annoyed. “It is a cheat! I saw nothing—but the water was red as blood,” he announced. “_Mort diable!_ I am convinced that no deception exists.” D’Ordieux shook his perfumed locks excitedly. “I have had the very happiest predictions, far exceeding my expectations, which should naturally be great in a man of my rank—the promise of realizing my dearest hopes. I entertain no doubt of its truth.” “I wish we had not been tempted to come. I shall vow a taper to the Virgin to keep us from harm,” whispered Madame de St. Rochs to her husband.