ted
by and through them, should drench in blood the lands over which they
seek to extend their dark dominion.

Such, then, was the asylum of peace and innocence in which Francois
Hardy had taken refuge. He occupied the ground-floor of a summer-house,
which opened upon a portion of the garden. His apartments had been
judiciously chosen, for we know with what profound and diabolical craft
the reverend fathers avail themselves of material influences, to make
a deep impression upon the minds they are moulding to their purpose.
Imagine a prospect bounded by a high wall, of a blackish gray,
half-covered with ivy, the plant peculiar to ruins. A dark avenue of
old yew-trees, so fit to shade the grave with their sepulchral verdure,
extended from this wall to a little semicircle, in front of the
apartment generally occupied by M. Hardy. Two or three mounds of earth,
bordered with box, symmetrically cut, completed the charms of this
garden, which in every respect resembled a cemetery.

It was about two o'clock in the afternoon. Though the April sun shone
brightly, its rays, intercepted by the high wall of which we have
spoken, could not penetrate into that portion of the garden, obscure,
damp, and cold as a cavern, which communicated with M. Hardy's
apartment. The room was furnished with a perfect sense of the
comfortable. A soft carpet covered the floor; thick curtains of dark
green baize, the same color as the walls, sheltered an excellent bed,
and hung in folds about the glass door, which opened on the garden. Some
pieces of mahogany furniture, plain, but very clean and bright, stood
round the room. Above the secretary, placed just in front of the
bed, was a large ivory crucifix, upon a black velvet ground. The
chimney-piece was adorned with a clock, in an ebony case, with
ivory ornaments representing all sorts of gloomy emblems, such as
hour-glasses, scythes, death's-heads, etc. Now imagine this scene in
twilight, with its solitary and mournful silence, only broken at the
hour of prayer by the lugubrious sound of the bells of the neighboring
chapel, and you will recognize the infernal skill, with which these
dangerous priests know how to turn to account every external object,
when they wish to influence the mind of those they are anxious to gain
over.

And this was not all. After appealing to the senses, it was necessary to
address themselves to the intellect--and this was the method adopted by
the reverend fathers. A sing