d see far down below to the pine trees of Coille Doraca. The
shadowy evening had crept over the world ere he reached the wood, and
when he entered the little house the darkness had already descended.

The Thin Woman of Inis Magrath met him as he entered, and was about to
speak harshly of his long absence, but the Philosopher kissed her with
such unaccustomed tenderness, and spoke so mildly to her, that, first,
astonishment enchained her tongue, and then delight set it free in a
direction to which it had long been a stranger.

"Wife," said the Philosopher, "I cannot say how joyful I am to see your
good face again."

The Thin Woman was unable at first to reply to this salutation, but,
with incredible speed, she put on a pot of stirabout, began to bake a
cake, and tried to roast potatoes. After a little while she wept loudly,
and proclaimed that the world did not contain the equal of her husband
for comeliness and goodness, and that she was herself a sinful person
unworthy of the kindness of the gods or of such a mate.

But while the Philosopher was embracing Seumas and Brigid Beg, the door
was suddenly burst open with a great noise, four policemen entered the
little room, and after one dumbfoundered minute they retreated again
bearing the Philosopher with them to answer a charge of murder.

BOOK V. THE POLICEMEN

CHAPTER XIV

SOME distance down the road the policemen halted. The night had fallen
before they effected their capture, and now, in the gathering darkness,
they were not at ease. In the first place, they knew that the occupation
upon which they were employed was not a creditable one to a man whatever
it might be to a policeman. The seizure of a criminal may be justified
by certain arguments as to the health of society and the preservation
of property, but no person wishes under any circumstances to hale a wise
man to prison. They were further distressed by the knowledge that they
were in the very centre of a populous fairy country, and that on every
side the elemental hosts might be ranging, ready to fall upon them with
the terrors of war or the still more awful scourge of their humour.
The path leading to their station was a long one, winding through great
alleys of trees, which in some places overhung the road so thickly that
even the full moon could not search out that deep blackness. In the
daylight these men would have arrested an Archangel and, if necessary,
bludgeoned him, but in the night