Two persons were gliding cautiously through the shadow towards the Temple of Apollo. The smaller, who had green eyes like a cat, saw clearly through the night, and was leading the more stalwart by the hand. "Oh! oh! you scoundrel! we shall break our necks in some ditch!" "There is no ditch here! What are you afraid of? Since you adopted the new religion you've become a regular old woman!" "An old woman!... When I used to hunt the bear my heart had never a throb the quicker! But here ... this isn't a job like that!... We shall swing for it, side by side, on the same gallows, my boy." "Nonsense! Be quiet, you great fool!" The small man again began dragging along the bigger, who carried an enormous truss of hay and a pickaxe. They arrived at a postern door of the temple. "Here, use the pick!" muttered the little man, groping with his hands for cracks in the stone. "And you can cut the cross-timbers with the axe...." Suddenly there came a cry, like the complaint of a sick child. The tall man trembled in all his limbs-- "What is it?" "The Demon!" exclaimed the little one, his eyes staring with affright, clutching at the clothes of his companion-- "You won't desert me, old fellow?" "It's an owl!... Well, he can plume himself on having scared us!" The enormous night-bird, startled from his nest, flew away with a sobbing cry. "Let's give it up," said the tall man. "That will never kindle." "Why not? The wood's rotten, dry as tinder in the sun, and all worm-eaten.... A single spark will do. Come, work along!" And the little man shoved the taller. "Now, push the straw into the hole!... more, more, for the glory of the Father, of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost!" "Why are you fidgeting about like an eel?" said the tall man, in annoyance. "And what is there to laugh at?" "Ha, ha, ha! What? The angels of heaven must be rejoicing.... Only remember, uncle, if we're taken, don't deny what we've done. We'll have a pretty little blaze!... Here, take the flint and steel!" "Go to the devil!" answered the other. "You sha'n't tempt me, cursed little snake! Pah! Kindle yourself!" "Ah, you're crying off..." and trembling with rage the little man seized the big man by the beard. "I'll be the first to denounce you; I shall be believed...." "Leave me alone, damn you. Give me the flint.... I've had enough of this." The sparks sprang out. The smaller man, for greater comfort, or to complete his resemblance to a young snake, laid himself flat on his stomach. Thin tongues of flame ran through the straw, which had been soaked in pitch. Thick smoke arose. A mass of flame shone ruddily on the distressed face of the giant Aragaris, and the monkey-like visage of the little Syrian, Strombix, who began leaping and laughing like one drunk or mad-- "We'll destroy it all, in the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Ghost! Ho! ho! ho! A pretty little blaze, eh!" There was something ferocious in his destructive glee.