ghts fresh lights flashed, and all began moving together and
twinkling restlessly.

"Ieron--im!" we heard a hollow prolonged shout.

"They are shouting from the other bank," said the peasant, "so there
is no ferry there either. Our Ieronim has gone to sleep."

The lights and the velvety chimes of the bell drew one towards them.
. . . I was already beginning to lose patience and grow anxious,
but behold at last, staring into the dark distance, I saw the outline
of something very much like a gibbet. It was the long-expected
ferry. It moved towards us with such deliberation that if it had
not been that its lines grew gradually more definite, one might
have supposed that it was standing still or moving to the other
bank.

"Make haste! Ieronim!" shouted my peasant. "The gentleman's tired
of waiting!"

The ferry crawled to the bank, gave a lurch and stopped with a
creak. A tall man in a monk's cassock and a conical cap stood on
it, holding the rope.

"Why have you been so long?" I asked jumping upon the ferry.

"Forgive me, for Christ's sake," Ieronim answered gently. "Is there
no one else?"

"No one. . . ."

Ieronim took hold of the rope in both hands, bent himself to the
figure of a mark of interrogation, and gasped. The ferry-boat creaked
and gave a lurch. The outline of the peasant in the high hat began
slowly retreating from me--so the ferry was moving off. Ieronim
soon drew himself up and began working with one hand only. We were
silent, gazing towards the bank to which we were floating. There
the illumination for which the peasant was waiting had begun. At
the water's edge barrels of tar were flaring like huge camp fires.
Their reflections, crimson as the rising moon, crept to meet us in
long broad streaks. The burning barrels lighted up their own smoke
and the long shadows of men flitting about the fire; but further
to one side and behind them from where the velvety chime floated
there was still the same unbroken black gloom. All at once, cleaving
the darkness, a rocket zigzagged in a golden ribbon up the sky; it
described an arc and, as though broken to pieces against the sky,
was scattered crackling into sparks. There was a roar from the bank
like a far-away hurrah.

"How beautiful!" I said.

"Beautiful beyond words!" sighed Ieronim. "Such a night, sir! Another
time one would pay no attention to the fireworks, but to-day one
rejoices in every vanity. Where do you come from?"

I told him where I cam