“In childhood, yes. I doubt when they get older it’s too late. And so you contemplate lifetime imprisonment?” “Could you suggest anything better?” “Well, there’s escape. What do you say to that?” “Futile. Absolutely futile.” “The Devil has helped her once; he may do so again.” “The Devil! Who or what is that?” (They were ignorant of such a person on Lucifram.) “Ah! I had forgotten. He was never fashionable here. The Devil is a libel on virtue; the exact imitator of God.” “And she is on familiar terms with this—this atrocity?” “I owe a general pardon. I was confounding him with a Superior Being, an error commoner than one thinks of.” “You speak in riddles,” said the Great High Priest, and his tone was irritable. “I mean to say God helped her to escape twice before—nay, three times. You are brave, to say nothing more of it, to put another spoke in the wheel.” “By God do I understand you to mean the Serpent?” “As you will. To my certain knowledge she has kissed the Serpent. The sensation must have been a new one, almost a dangerous one. After ages spent hearing the dull praise of men coming from lips all stereotyped, one soft kiss would have its—er—its value.” The Great High Priest looked at him sternly, as became his office. “The Serpent is above such petty considerations,” said he. “You speak with too much levity of sacred things.” “A fault of my education. Forgive me for it. And the summons is to be issued on New Year’s Day?” “Or on the eve.” “I understand you. God and his counterfeit will help or hinder you. Good-night!” Next morning, walking in the Park, he came on Rosalie walking with the frog. Quite unconscious of the impending trial, she stopped on meeting him. “Good morning!” said she. “You look very thoughtful.” “Yes. I’m thinking of taking a very unusual step.” “What, pray?” “Paying a visit to my mother,” and he looked at her. “That means your father, too, does it not?” “No,” he answered, still looking at her in the same thoughtful, absent way. “I frequently visit him. At present they are separated.” Now it was her turn to be thoughtful. “That’s very sad, isn’t it?” “Sadder than you’d think of; for, but for the irony of Fate, they would be quite inseparable.” “And is it an unusual thing for you to visit her?” “Yes; I do not care to burden her with my presence, unless there is some reason in it.” “That sounds unnatural. Does she love you?” “As much as I love her.” “That conveys nothing to my mind. Your powers of love are very enigmatical.” “They’re simple enough on a worthy object.” “And she is very worthy?” He made no answer, but said presently, with sudden decision: “Mariana has begun upon the dress. It will be finished on New Year’s Eve.” “And I to wear it?” “Yes.” “I went to see her. You guessed at it. But she seemed more dead than living.” “A little extra sleep. She said she needed it.” “What of the jewel that I lent you?” “It is very safe. I have a request to make to you.” “What is it?”