convento and they returned to their
village. Sister Bali, who felt offended at this lack of confidence
in herself, on the way home relieved her feelings by administering
a long preachment to the girl.

The truth was that the girl could not take that step without damning
herself in her own eyes, besides being cursed of men and cursed
of God! It had been intimated to her several times, whether with
reason or not, that if she would make that sacrifice her father would
be pardoned, and yet she had refused, in spite of the cries of her
conscience reminding her of her filial duty. Now must she make it for
Basilio, her sweetheart? That would be to fall to the sound of mockery
and laughter from all creation. Basilio himself would despise her! No,
never! She would first hang herself or leap from some precipice. At
any rate, she was already damned for being a wicked daughter.

The poor girl had besides to endure all the reproaches of her
relatives, who, knowing nothing of what had passed between her and
Padre Camovra, laughed at her fears. Would Padre Camorra fix his
attention upon a country girl when there were so many others in the
town? Hero the good women cited names of unmarried girls, rich and
beautiful, who had been more or less unfortunate. Meanwhile, if they
should shoot Basilio?

Juli covered her ears and stared wildly about, as if seeking a voice
that might plead for her, but she saw only her grandfather, who was
dumb and had his gaze fixed on his hunting-spear.

That night she scarcely slept at all. Dreams and nightmares, some
funereal, some bloody, danced before her sight and woke her often,
bathed in cold perspiration. She fancied that she heard shots, she
imagined that she saw her father, that father who had done so much
for her, fighting in the forests, hunted like a wild beast because
she had refused to save him. The figure of her father was transformed
and she recognized Basilio, dying, with looks of reproach at her. The
wretched girl arose, prayed, wept, called upon her mother, upon death,
and there was even a moment when, overcome with terror, if it had
not been night-time, she would have run straight to the convento,
let happen what would.

With the coming of day the sad presentiments and the terrors of
darkness were partly dissipated. The light inspired hopes in her. But
the news of the afternoon was terrible, for there was talk of persons
shot, so the next night was for the girl frightful. In her desp