shioned by the prevalent culture of grain crops. Nor
is she like the fat townswife, heavy and slothful, about whom our
fathers made such a number of fat stories. She has no sense of safety;
she is meek and timid, and feels herself, as it were, in God's hand.
On yonder hill she can see the dark frowning castle, whence a thousand
harms may come upon her. Her husband she holds in equal fear and
honour. A serf elsewhere, by her side he is a king. For him she saves
of her best, living herself on nothing. She is small and slender like
the women-saints of the Church. The poor feeding of those days must
needs make women fine-bred, but lacking also in vital strength. The
children die off in vast numbers: those pale roses are all nerves.
Hence, will presently burst forth the epileptic dances of the
fourteenth century. Meanwhile, towards the twelfth century, there come
to be two weaknesses attached to this state of half-grown youth: by
night somnambulism; in the daytime seeing of visions, trance, and the
gift of tears.

* * * * *

This woman, for all her innocence, still has a secret which the Church
may never be told. Locked up in her heart she bears the pitying
remembrance of those poor old gods who have fallen into the state of
spirits;[21] and spirits, you must know, are not exempt from
suffering. Dwelling in rocks, and in hearts of oak, they are very
unhappy in winter; being particularly fond of warmth. They ramble
about houses; they are sometimes seen in stables warming themselves
beside the beasts. Bereft of incense and burnt-offerings, they
sometimes take of the milk. The housewife being thrifty, will not
stint her husband, but lessens her own share, and in the evening
leaves a little cream.

[21] This loyalty of hers is very touching indeed. In the
fifth century the peasants braved persecution by parading the
gods of the old religion in the shape of small dolls made of
linen or flour. Still the same in the eighth century. The
_Capitularies_ threaten death in vain. In the twelfth
century, Burchard, of Worms, attests their inutility. In
1389, the Sorbonne inveighs against certain traces of
heathenism, while in 1400, Gerson talks of it as still a
lively superstition.

Those spirits who only appear at night, regret their banishment from
the day and are greedy of lamplight. By night the housewife starts on
her perilous trip, bearing a small lantern, to th