l the corners. Ugh,
the room was so lonely, I ran out of it. And the candles--those two
before the looking-glass--flickered so. Marianna says that if you look
into a glass before which two candles are burning, as the clock strikes
twelve, either Death or your future husband will be standing behind
you. Oh, and I daren't cross the passage, it was so dark. Just think
if anybody had been lurking there? I screamed aloud, but nobody
answered--ugh, the passage was so icy cold--so I rushed into the
kitchen; there was still a little fire there, and I crept behind the
stove. Oh, mother, I was so frightened, I couldn't stop there either. I
trembled so, my heart went like that the whole time"--she took hold of
her mother's hand and moved it quickly up and down--"the whole time
like that. Just think if that fiery man, that Marianna is always
telling me about, had got out of the stove? I believe that fiery man is
the devil; I've asked Marianna, but she didn't know. Do you think,
mammie, that it's the devil?"

[Pg 110]

She sat up in bed. She was still completely dressed. "Is it the devil?"

Mrs. Tiralla nodded.

"So you also believe that it's the devil?" Rosa's voice expressed a
certain satisfaction, a kind of childish pride; oh, yes, she knew all
about such things. "I know him." she said triumphantly.

"What does he look like?" whispered her mother, with a shudder, as she
hid her face in her hands. Oh, if that should have been he, that
handsome young man who had suddenly appeared before her a short time
before, as she stood half-dressed in the room downstairs and Mr.
Tiralla was making excuses for the amorous maid?

"I saw him on the altar in the chapel," whispered Rosa. "Holy Michael
was treading him underfoot. He's like a worm, but he has a face and
horns on his head. Father Szypulski says he comes to tempt us. Pray,
pray! He pokes the fire in Purgatory, in which the souls are burning.
'Pray for the peace of the poor souls in Purgatory,' says the priest,
'and for your own as well.' I commend all the souls in Purgatory to
thee, oh, most holy Mother Mary." Rosa's whispers became more and more
agitated and her wild, restless eyes began to wander about the room.
"He's red, mother, red with black horns. He dances in the flames
wherever there's a fire; he sends out sparks, mother--he's fetching us
all! Mother! Oh, he's burning us all!"

The child uttered a heartrending sigh, and pressing both hands to her
breast reared herself