‘After that--no one knew how it happened--but pretty soon everybody began to whisper and look queerly at Seraphita when the nurse carried her into the street; and her father seemed troubled, and he talked with the priest and wanted to pay some more money to the Church; but they wouldn’t have any more ceremonies for Seraphita, and the priests tried to make the people stop talking; what they said was “_nonsense_.” But it was not nonsense, and so they went on talking among themselves; and they would take their own children out of the way when Seraphita was old enough to play about. ‘So she grew up all alone except for her father and her nurse and the priest who went to live in the house--which showed that the Church thought there was something in it, else why should a priest go and live in the house? ‘One day, when Seraphita was out walking, she came across some little boys who were stoning a black kitten to kill it--for everybody knows that black cats belong to the Devil. And Seraphita ran right in among the flying stones, and not one of them hit her, for the Devil held his hand between her and the stones, and she caught up the Devil’s kitten and hugged it tight, while the stones fell at her feet, and the boys cried out, “Devil’s brat! Devil’s cat!”’ ‘Pepita,’ said I, ‘she seems to me to have been a very nice, soft-hearted little girl.’ ‘Oh, no! Señora Maria Madalena, you see black cats belong to the Devil, and if she had had any soul she couldn’t have taken one in her arms. ‘She carried it home, and she used to feed it, and she had to hide it away, because, of course, nobody wanted to have a Devil’s cat around, and the cat would run and jump into Seraphita’s arms whenever she came near; but it would fly like mad, and its hair would all stand on end, when anyone else came around, which shows--does it not?--that something was wrong. And another thing showed that all was not right with Seraphita: the priest began to teach her, and she learned faster than any child should. There was an evil spirit that whispered the words into her ear, so that she did not have to study. ‘She had power over horses, too, and if she just put her lips to a horse’s ear he would turn and rub his nose on her face. You see, horses have no souls, and they knew that Seraphita hadn’t any. ‘And, besides that, she always looked very old and grave when anybody was near; but when she was alone in the fields or in the woods she would laugh out loud, and they could hear her talk with the birds, for she knew bird-language; and she would lean over the water and talk to herself, or to the fishes. Oh, it was true, she had no soul!’ ‘Well, what became of her?’ I asked, as Pepita paused, to emphasize her statement. ‘She grew up so beautiful that strangers would stop in the street and look at her as she passed; but, of course, everybody soon found out all about her, and then they would not look at her--at least they would not look her in the eye, unless they had a charm on.’