ail
of Mercurius the devil.

"It is, in truth, a hard case," said the daemon; "but I know of
no remedy save patience, and for that you will have an excellent
opportunity in your lodgings below."

"But I have relations," said the Earl; "my kinsman Randal, who has
inherited my lands, will he not say a prayer for his uncle?"

"Thou didst hate and oppress him when living."

"It is true; but an ave is not much; his sister, my niece, Matilda--"

"You shut her in a convent, and hanged her lover."

"Had I not reason? besides, has she not others?"

"A dozen, without doubt."

"And my brother, the prior?"

"A liege subject of my lord the Devil: he never opens his mouth, except
to utter an oath, or to swallow a cup of wine."

"And yet, if but one of these would but say an ave for me, I should be
saved."

"Aves with them are rarae aves," replied Mercurius, wagging his tail
right waggishly; "and, what is more, I will lay thee any wager that not
one of these will say a prayer to save thee."

"I would wager willingly," responded he of Chauchigny; "but what has a
poor soul like me to stake?"

"Every evening, after the day's roasting, my lord Satan giveth a cup of
cold water to his servants; I will bet thee thy water for a year, that
none of the three will pray for thee."

"Done!" said Rollo.

"Done!" said the daemon; "and here, if I mistake not, is thy castle of
Chauchigny."

Indeed, it was true. The soul, on looking down, perceived the tall
towers, the courts, the stables, and the fair gardens of the castle.
Although it was past midnight, there was a blaze of light in the
banqueting-hall, and a lamp burning in the open window of the Lady
Matilda.

"With whom shall we begin?" said the daemon: "with the baron or the
lady?"

"With the lady, if you will."

"Be it so; her window is open, let us enter."

So they descended, and entered silently into Matilda's chamber.

The young lady's eyes were fixed so intently on a little clock, that
it was no wonder that she did not perceive the entrance of her two
visitors. Her fair cheek rested on her white arm, and her white arm on
the cushion of a great chair in which she sat, pleasantly supported by
sweet thoughts and swan's down; a lute was at her side, and a book
of prayers lay under the table (for piety is always modest). Like the
amorous Alexander, she sighed and looked (at the clock)--and sighed for
ten minutes or more, when she softly breathed the word "Edward!"