those sandy traces as far as the chamber where they stop. There he shuts himself up, bursts into fervent prayer, and has a hand-to-hand fight with the evil spirit. His triumph is asserted as soon as he succeeds in casting his stole over the neck of the dead, who has taken the shape of an animal, usually a black dog. The beadle and the sacristan are told off to carry away the possessed animal. They lead it to a sterile marsh, or a forsaken quarry, or a meadow hollow, and the priest cries, "Here shalt thou henceforth dwell," and lets the evil spirit go free; saying this, he makes a wide circle, and departs.[1]
Coming from a feverish centre like Paris, where, as a rule, lives are too crowded with interests, one wonders at the limited interests of rural and provincial life. Sometimes you will meet a country gentleman who dabbles in literature, writes a local guide or an historical essay on some personage or fact connected with his own particular town or village, and then you may count yourself fortunate. Depend upon his natural wit to make the place interesting to you. Such a pleasant squire once imparted a sort of glow and charm for me to Taillebourg, and that dullest of little towns, St. Jean d'Angély. He peopled the neighbourhood with great names, and the very pavements instantly grew sacred. His erudition went so far as to revive Blue Beard,
- ↑ "Satanism" by Jules Bois.
