nseemly riot."

"Have you the weapons that Holy Church has provided for such a task?"
asked Theudelinde, anxiously.

The priest for all answer held towards her the strong staff he
carried.

"I have this good stick, countess."

"Do you hear above all the tumult that strident voice? It is my uncle
Ladislaus," cried the countess, grasping the abbe's arm with both her
hands. "Do you hear that horrible laugh? It is my uncle's laugh."

"We will soon learn the author of that unpleasant cachinnation,"
remarked the priest, quietly.

"Why, what do you propose to do?"

"I shall go down and join the worshipful society below."

"You will descend into the vault? What to do?"

"To pass judgment upon that unruly gang, countess. You promised to
accompany me."

"I promised!" and Theudelinde retreated from him, her eyes staring
wildly, her hands pressed to her breast.

"It was your own wish."

"True, true! I am so confused; my thoughts are all astray. I cannot
recollect them. You here, and that fearful noise below! I am terribly
afraid."

"How? You who had the courage to go among the ghosts by yourself, are
you afraid now that _I_ am with you? Give me your hand."

The countess placed her trembling fingers in the abbe's hand, and as
she felt the firm, manly clasp, an unusual sense of strength and
protection possessed her; she ceased to shake and shiver, her eyes no
longer saw shapes and fantasies moving before them; her heart began to
beat steadily. The bare touch of this man's hand gave her new life.

"Come with me," he said, in a decided voice, while he stuck his whip
under his left arm, and with the right drew the countess after him.
"Where are the keys of the secret staircase, and of the room through
which we must pass?"

Theudelinde felt that she could not let go his hand for one minute.
She was for the moment, so to speak, mesmerized by his superior mind.
She crawled after him submissively; she should follow him, were it to
the very gates of hell itself. Without a word she pointed to the key
cabinet, an antique piece of furniture which would have made the joy
of a bric-a-brac collector, and in which there was a drawer full of
keys.

Without a moment's hesitation the priest put his hand on the ones that
were wanted. It was no miracle that he should do so, although to the
weakened mind of his companion it appeared to be miraculous; on one of
the keys there was the well-known sign of a vault key, the crucifix.