ers so terrible that no
one dare approach to him. Build we a city of citadels. Build we a city
and there fasten--shut--close.'

"Then Tubal Cain, father of men who make of iron, constructed one
city--enormous--superhuman; and while that he labored, his brothers in
the plain drove far away the sons of Enos and the children of Seth,
and put out the eyes of all who passed that way, and the night came
when the walls of covering of tents were not, and in their place were
walls of granite, every block immense, fastened with great nails of
iron, and the city seemed a city of iron, and the shadow of its towers
made night upon the plain, and about the city were walls more high
than mountains, and when all was done, they graved upon the door,
'Defense a Dieu d'entrer,' and they put the old father Cain in a tower
of stone in the midst of this city, and he sat there somber and
haggard.

"'Oh, my father, the Eye has now disappeared?' asked the child,
Tsilla, and Cain replied: 'No, it is always there! I will go and live
under the earth, as in his sepulcher, a man alone. There nothing can
see me more, and I no more can see anything.'

"Then made they for him one--cavern. And Cain said, 'This is well,'
and he descended alone under this somber vault and sat upon a seat in
the shadows, and when they had shut down the door of the cave, the Eye
was there in the tombs regarding him."

Thus, seated at her mother's feet, Amalia rendered the poem as her
mother recited, while the firelight played over her face and flashed
in the silken folds of her dress. When she had finished, the fire was
low and the cabin almost in darkness. No one spoke. Larry still gazed
in the dying embers, and Harry still sat with his eyes fixed on
Amalia's face.

"Victor Hugo, he is a very great man, as my 'usband have say," said
the mother at last.

"Ah, mamma. For Cain,--maybe,--yes, the Eye never closed, but now have
man hope or why was the Christ and the Holy Virgin? It is the
forgiving of God they bring--for--for love of the poor human,--and who
is sorrowful for his wrong--he is forgive with peace in his heart, is
not?"

CHAPTER XXV

HARRY KING LEAVES THE MOUNTAIN

When the two men bade Amalia and her mother good night and took their
way to the fodder shed, the snow was whirling and drifting around the
cabin, and the pathway was obliterated.

"This'll be the last storm of the year, I'm thinking," said Larry. But
the younger man strode on with