"Holy Benedict," exclaimed he, "be pleased to see that it is not Heribald's fault, that the antiphon was not sung." He then rose and walked with careful steps through the dark aisle. A shrill wind whistled through a little window of the crypt under the high-altar, producing a howling sound; and as Heribald advanced, a draught caught his garment. "Art thou come back, thou hellish tempter?" said he, "must I fight thee once more?" Undauntedly he stepped back to the altar and seized a wooden crucifix, which the Abbot had not had taken away. "In the name of the Holy Trinity, I defy thee, Satanas. Come on, Heribald awaits thee!" With unabated courage he thus stood on the altar-steps; but though the wind continued to howl dismally, the Devil did not appear. "He still remembers the last time," smilingly said the idiot. About a year ago the Evil One had appeared to him in the shape of a big dog, barking furiously at him; but Heribald had attacked him with a pole; and had aimed his blows so well, that the pole broke. Then Heribald screamed out a number of choice invectives, in the direction where the wind was moaning; and when even after this, nothing came to tempt him, he replaced the crucifix on the altar, bent his knees before it, and then went back to his cell, murmuring the "_Kyrie eleison_." There he slept the sleep of the just until late in the morning. The sun was already high in the heavens, when Heribald was complacently walking up and down, before the monastery. Since the time, when he had enjoyed an occasional holiday at school, he had seldom had an opportunity of resting himself. "Idleness is the soul's worst enemy," St. Benedict had said, and in consequence strictly ordered his disciples, to fill up the time which was not claimed by devotional tasks, by the work of their hands. Heribald, not knowing any art or handicraft, had been employed in cutting wood and in rendering similar useful, but tiring services;--but now, he paced up and down with crossed arms before the heaped up log-wood; looking up smilingly at one of the cloister-windows. "Why don't you come down, Father Rudimann, and make Heribald cut the wood? You, who used to keep such excellent watch over the brothers; and who so often called Heribald a useless servant of the Lord, when he looked at the clouds, instead of handling the axe. Why don't you attend to your duty?" Not even an echo gave answer to the half-witted creature's query; so he drew out some of the under logs, thus making the whole pile fall noisily down. "Tumble down if you like," continued he in his soliloquy, "Heribald has got a holiday, and is not going to put you up again.--The Abbot has run away, and the brothers have run away also; so it serves them right, if everything tumbles down."