"If God is good," cried Francois, harshly, and his voice came plainly to
the priest's ears, as if the lid of the coffin had rotted, "why are we
awakened before our time? What foul fiend was it that thundered and
screamed through the frozen avenues of my brain? Has God, perchance,
been vanquished and does the Evil One reign in His stead?"
"Tut, tut! Thou blasphemest! God reigns, now and always. It is but a
punishment He has laid upon us for the sins of earth."
"Truly, we were punished enough before we descended to the peace of this
narrow house. Ah, but it is dark and cold! Shall we lie like this for an
eternity, perhaps? On earth we longed for death, but feared the grave. I
would that I were alive again, poor and old and alone and in pain. It
were better than this. Curse the foul fiend that woke us!"
"Curse not, my son," said a soft voice, and the priest stood up and
uncovered and crossed himself, for it was the voice of his aged
predecessor. "I cannot tell thee what this is that has rudely shaken us
in our graves and freed our spirits of their blessed thraldom, and I
like not the consciousness of this narrow house, this load of earth on
my tired heart. But it is right, it must be right, or it would not be at
all--ah, me!"
For a baby cried softly, hopelessly, and from a grave beyond came a
mother's anguished attempt to still it.
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