deed thus, and the shadow of a fancied crime abode with
him. People turned against their favourite, whose former charms must
now be counted only as the fascinations of witchcraft. It was as if the
wine poured out for them had soured in the cup. The golden age had
indeed come back for a while:--golden was it, or gilded only, after
all? and they were too sick, or at least too serious, to carry through
their parts in it. The monk Hermes was whimsically reminded of that
after-thought in pagan poetry, of a Wine-god who had been in hell.
Denys certainly, with all his flaxen fairness about him, was manifestly
a sufferer. At first he thought of departing secretly to some other
place. Alas! his wits were too far gone for certainty of success in
the attempt. He feared to be brought back a prisoner. Those fat years
were over. It was a time of scarcity. The working people might not
eat and drink of the good things they had helped to store away. Tears
rose in the eyes of needy children, of old or weak people like
children, as they woke up again and again to sunless, frost-bound,
ruinous mornings; and the little hungry creatures went prowling after
scattered hedge-nuts or dried vine-tendrils.

[68] Mysterious, dark rains prevailed throughout the summer. The great
offices of Saint John were fumbled through in a sudden darkness of
unseasonable storm, which greatly damaged the carved ornaments of the
church, the bishop reading his mid-day Mass by the light of the little
candle at his book. And then, one night, the night which seemed
literally to have swallowed up the shortest day in the year, a plot was
contrived by certain persons to take Denys as he went and kill him
privately for a sorcerer. He could hardly tell how he escaped, and
found himself safe in his earliest home, the cottage in the cliff-side,
with such a big fire as he delighted in burning upon the hearth. They
made a little feast as well as they could for the beautiful hunted
creature, with abundance of waxlights.

And at last the clergy bethought themselves of a remedy for this evil
time. The body of one of the patron saints had lain neglected
somewhere under the flagstones of the sanctuary. This must be piously
exhumed, and provided with a shrine worthy of it. The goldsmiths, the
jewellers and lapidaries, set diligently to work, and no long time
after, the shrine, like a little cathedral with portals and tower
complete, stood ready, its chiselled gold f