mountain. Edmond and
the priest went alone among the fallen walls. All was destroyed
together, the alter only still remained and the statue of the virgin
was blackened, though tolerably preserved. The old man took it down and
buried it at some distance. "Wherefore?" asked Edmond. "Will not the
multitude," said the aged man, "cry out a miracle again, when they find
this statue the only thing still nearly preserved in this heap of
ashes? Who knows what horrible blood-thirstiness may be enflamed by
this accident, what monstrous, insatiable vengeance attached to this
wooden symbol in the name of God, in order to satisfy under pretext of
eternal love, the horrible feeling, which never should be awakened in
the breast of man. No, what may be an innocent amusement in times of
peace and happiness, and serve as an exalting, edifying, pious
institution, often becomes a banner for the human mind if once wild
rebellion has swayed, it followed exultingly by all the horrors of
hell. I should consider myself a murderer, if I did not bury this
protectress to-day, as our neighbours will inter the poor unprotected
to-morrow. Should the Eternal Decree will it otherwise, he will easily
render my trouble unnecessary."

As they again issued from the ruins, they were met by the tall figure
of Lacoste. "Edmond," cried he, "you and your compeers carry on a
damnable trade. I have kept myself concealed the whole day, that I
might not look upon the enormity. The ceremony of your worship is too
severe. Your God is indulgent, for otherwise he would shew himself
somewhat more rigorous in it. I thought I had already experienced every
thing and understood every body; but in my present high school I still
learn many new things."

How astounded were Lacoste and the priest as each found again a friend
of his youth in the other. "You are then that pious, sighing, youth,"
exclaimed Lacoste in amazement, who in the eyes of his Euphemie would
see and find the whole Empyraeum? We now wander afar over the flowers
of your religious elysium. But tread firmly, for these eyes and noses
no longer feel our heels, these faces are only the discarded masks,
which still lie about from yesterday's gala. Yes, these masqueraders
have destroyed much clothing, that can never be mended again, they have
been reduced to tatters at once by extravagant insolence. Aye! aye!
Edmond, your reverend cordelier, his hair is become white since then,
like the yellow flowers of the meadow