"Let us withdraw from her sight," whispered Bertrand touching my
arm, and very willingly I acceded to this suggestion, and we
silently pressed into the shadow of some great oaks, which stood
hard by, the trunks of which hid us well from view. It seemed
almost like a species of sacrilege to stand there watching the Maid
at her prayers, and yet I vow, that until the bell ceased we had no
more power to move than our horses. Why we were holden by this
strange spell I know not. I can only speak the truth. We saw
nothing and we heard nothing of any miraculous kind, and yet we
were like men in a dream, bound hand and foot by invisible bonds, a
witness of something unseen to ourselves, which we saw was visible
to another.
Beneath the deep shadow of the oaks we looked back. The Maid had
risen to her feet by this, and was stooping to pick up her fallen
work. That done, she stood awhile in deep thought, her face turned
towards the little church, whence the bell had only just ceased to
sound.
I saw her clearly then--a maiden slim and tall, so slender that the
rather clumsy peasant dress she wore could not give breadth or
awkwardness to her lithe figure.
Pages:
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
46
47
48
49