His eyes were
dim, for he felt very much touched, for the time at least.
But he was now restored to life and liberty, and no bird in the
sky, no deer on the mountain, felt more blithe and happy than he
soon began to feel.
There is an old adage about the Evil One. It is said he became sick
and wanted to be a monk, but when he became well--well--Was this
the case with Etienne?
Time will show: for the present we leave him blowing the horn
suspended at the gate of St. Ouen's priory.
CHAPTER XVI. RETRIBUTION.
"Raro antecedentem scelestum
Deseruit pede Poena claudo."
It was midday, and the sun was pouring the full power of his
noontide beams on the wilderness of reeds and flags which
overspread the southern side of the Dismal Swamp, reposing on the
treacherous surface of bog, quagmire, and quicksand.
Signs of life there were none, save when the bittern rose from its
nest, amidst the long reeds or sedgy grass, or the moor fowl flew
over the surface of the inky water, which here and there collected
into pools. The feeble hum of insects filled the air, but all else
was peace and solitude.
Save that there was a sign of life on the farther side of the
Swamp--a solitary figure half concealed by bushes, stood watching
on a promontory of firm land, looking anxiously--from his slight
elevation over the surface of the fen.
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