ould not follow the road taken by the
other fugitives; and when they asked him the reason, he replied,
because his genius drew him away from it. The event justified his
foresight. All those who had taken the other road were either killed
or made prisoners by the enemy's cavalry.

It is doubtful whether the elves, of which so many things are related,
are good or bad spirits; for the faith of the church admits nothing
between these two kinds of genii. Every genius is either good or bad;
but as there are in heaven many mansions, as the Gospel says,[291] and
as there are among the blessed, various degrees of glory, differing
from each other, so we may believe that there are in hell various
degrees of pain and punishment for the damned and the demons.

But are they not rather magicians, who render themselves invisible,
and divert themselves in disquieting the living? Why do they attach
themselves to certain spots, and certain persons, rather than to
others? Why do they make themselves perceptible only during a certain
time, and that sometimes a short space?

I could willingly conclude that what is said of them is mere fancy and
prejudice; but their reality has been so often experienced by the
discourse they have held, and the actions they have performed in the
presence of many wise and enlightened persons, that I cannot persuade
myself that among the great number of stories related of them there
are not at least some of them true.

It may be remarked that these elves never lead one to anything good,
to prayer, or piety, to the love of God, or to godly and serious
actions. If they do no other harm, they leave hurtful doubts about the
punishments of the damned, on the efficacy of prayer and exorcisms; if
they hurt not those men or animals which are found on the spot where
they may be perceived, it is because God sets bounds to their malice
and power. The demon has a thousand ways of deceiving us. All those to
whom these genii attach themselves have a horror of them, mistrust and
fear them; and it rarely happens that these familiar demons do not
lead them to a dangerous end, unless they deliver themselves from them
by grave acts of religion and penance.

There is the story of a spirit, "which," says he who wrote it to me,
"I no more doubt the truth of than if I had been a witness of it."
Count Despilliers, the father, being a young man, and captain of
cuirassiers, was in winter quarters in Flanders. One of his men came
to