by Jean Wier as phenomena easily explained and formerly observed in
Egypt."

"Lend me Swedenborg's theosophical works," said Wilfrid, "and let me
plunge into those gulfs of light,--you have given me a thirst for them."

Monsieur Becker took down a volume and gave it to his guest, who
instantly began to read it. It was about nine o'clock in the evening.
The serving-woman brought in the supper. Minna made tea. The repast
over, each turned silently to his or her occupation; the pastor read the
Incantations; Wilfrid pursued the spirit of Swedenborg; and the young
girl continued to sew, her mind absorbed in recollections. It was a true
Norwegian evening--peaceful, studious, and domestic; full of thoughts,
flowers blooming beneath the snow. Wilfrid, as he devoured the pages of
the prophet, lived by his inner senses only; the pastor, looking up at
times from his book, called Minna's attention to the absorption of
their guest with an air that was half-serious, half-jesting. To Minna's
thoughts the face of Seraphitus smiled upon her as it hovered above the
clouds of smoke which enveloped them. The clock struck twelve. Suddenly
the outer door was opened violently. Heavy but hurried steps, the steps
of a terrified old man, were heard in the narrow vestibule between the
two doors; then David burst into the parlor.

"Danger, danger!" he cried. "Come! come, all! The evil spirits are
unchained! Fiery mitres are on their heads! Demons, Vertumni, Sirens!
they tempt her as Jesus was tempted on the mountain! Come, come! and
drive them away."

"Do you not recognize the language of Swedenborg?" said the pastor,
laughing, to Wilfrid. "Here it is; pure from the source."

But Wilfrid and Minna were gazing in terror at old David, who, with hair
erect, and eyes distraught, his legs trembling and covered with snow,
for he had come without snow-shoes, stood swaying from side to side, as
if some boisterous wind were shaking him.

"Is he harmed?" cried Minna.

"The devils hope and try to conquer her," replied the old man.

The words made Wilfrid's pulses throb.

"For the last five hours she has stood erect, her eyes raised to heaven
and her arms extended; she suffers, she cries to God. I cannot cross the
barrier; Hell has posted the Vertumni as sentinels. They have set up an
iron wall between her and her old David. She wants me, but what can I
do? Oh, help me! help me! Come and pray!"

The old man's despair was terrible to see.

"The Li