ok it upon me to object that no work on
history made any mention of the circumstances which he alluded to, he
would answer, with his quiet smile, that probably no historian in the
world knew as much about them as he did, seeing that he had them from
the very lips of the people concerned, when they came to see him.

"I was obliged to leave B---- and it was three years before I could go
back there. It was late in Autumn, about the middle of November--the
14th, if I do not mistake--when I set out to pay my anchorite a visit.
Whilst I was still at a distance, I heard the sound of the little bell
which hung above his hut, and was filled with gloomy forebodings,
without apparent cause. At last I reached the cottage and went in.

"Serapion was lying on his mat, with his hands folded on his breast. I
thought he was sleeping, and went softly up to him. Then I saw that he
was dead."

"And two lions came and helped you to bury him," interrupted Ottmar.

"What do you say?" cried Cyprian astonished.

"Yes," Ottmar went on. "While you were in the forest, before you
reached Serapion's hut, you met strange monsters of all kinds, and
talked with them; a deer brought you St. Athanasius's mantle, and told
you to wrap it about Serapion's body. At any rate, your last visit to
your mad anchorite reminds me a good deal of that wonderful one which
St. Anthony paid to Paul the Hermit, of which the holy man relates so
much fantastic stuff that it's not difficult to see what a big bee was
buzzing in his bonnet. I know something of the Legends of the Saints,
you see, as well as you. Now I understand why it was that your head was
so full of monks and monasteries, saints and hermits a few years ago. I
saw that it was so by the letters you sent me, which were so strange
and mystic in their tone that they set me supposing all sorts of odd
things. And if I am not mistaken, it was about that time that you wrote
a curious book, treating of the profounder mysteries of the Catholic
Church, but containing madness and diablerie sufficient to give you a
very bad name amongst quiet, respectable folks. At that time you were
possessed with Serapionism to a very dangerous degree."

"Quite true," said Cyprian, "and although that fanciful book does bear
the devil on its forehead, by way of danger-signal--so that those who
prefer to give it a wide berth may do so if they choose--I almost wish
now I had never brought it into the world. It is quite true that it w