meanwhile paul had gone into the church.

a few eager penitents were waiting for him, gathered round the confessional; the woman who had arrived first was already kneeling at the little grating, whilst the others waited their turn in the benches close by.

nina masia was kneeling on the floor under the holy-water stoup, which looked as though it were resting on her wicked little head, while several boys who were early astir were gathered in a circle round her. hurrying in with his thoughts elsewhere the priest knocked up against them, and his anger rose instantly as he recognized the girl, who had been placed there by her mother on purpose that she might attract attention. she seemed to be always in his way, at once a hindrance and a reproach.

"clear out of this instantly!" he bade them, in a voice so loud that it was heard all over the church; and immediately the circle of boys spread itself out and moved a little farther off, with nina still in the middle, but they grouped themselves round her in such a way that she could be seen by every one. the women all turned their heads to look at her, though without interrupting their prayers for an instant: she really looked as if she were the idol of the barbaric little church, redolent of the smell of the fields brought in by the peasants and flooded with the rosy haze of a country morning.

paul walked straight up the nave, but his secret anguish grew ever greater. as he passed, his cassock brushed against the seat where agnes usually sat; it was the old family pew, the kneeling-stool in front of it richly carved, and with his eyes and measured paces he calculated the distance between it and the altar.

"if i watch for the moment when she rises to carry out her fatal threat i shall have time to get into the sacristy," was his conclusion, and he shivered now as he entered.

antiochus had hurried down from the belfry to help paul robe himself, and was waiting for him beside the open cupboard where his vestments hung. he had a pale and serious, almost tragic air, as though already over-shadowed by the future career which had been settled for him the previous evening. but the gravity was transient and a smile flickered over the boy's face, just fresh from the windswept belfry; his eyes sparkled with joy beneath their decorously lowered lids, and he had to bite his lips to check the ready laugh; his young heart responded to all the radiance, the inspirations, the joyousness of that festal morning. then his eyes clouded suddenly as he was arranging the lace of the alb over the priest's wrist and he shot a quick look at his master, for he had perceived that the hand beneath the lace was trembling and he saw that the beloved face was pallid and distraught.

"do you feel ill, sir?"

paul did feel ill, although he shook his head in denial. he felt as though his mouth were full of blood, yet a tiny germ of hope was springing up in the midst of his distress.

"i shall fall down dead, my heart will break; and then, at least, there will be an end of everything."

he went down into the church again to hear the confessions of the women, and saw his mother at the bottom of the nave near the door. stern and motionless she knelt there, keeping watch over all who entered the church, over the whole church itself, ready, apparently, to support and hold it up were it even to collapse upon her head.

but he had no more courage left: only that tiny germ of hope within his heart, the hope of death, grew and grew till the breath in him stifled and failed.

when he was seated inside the confessional he felt somewhat calmer; it was like being in a grave, but at least he was hidden from view and could look his horror in the face. the subdued whispering of the women behind the gratings, broken by their little sighs and their warm breath, was like the rustling of lizards in the long grass on the ridge. and agnes was there too, safe in the secret retreat where he had so often taken her in his thoughts. and the soft breathing of the young women, the scent of their hair and their gala dress, all perfumed with lavender, mingled with his distress and further inflamed his passion.

and he gave them all absolution, absolved them from all their sins, thinking that perhaps before many days had passed he himself would be a suppliant to them for their compassion.

then he was seized with the craving to get out, to see whether agnes had arrived. but her seat was empty.

perhaps she was not coming after all. yet sometimes she remained at the bottom of the church, kneeling on a chair which her servant brought for her. he turned to look, but saw only his mother's rigid figure, and as he knelt before the altar and began the mass, he felt that her soul was bending before god, clothed in her grief as he was clothed in his alb and stole.

then he determined not to look behind him again, to close his eyes each time he had to turn round to give the blessing. he felt as if he were climbing ever higher up some steep and stony calvary, and a sensation of giddiness seized him whenever the ritual obliged him to face the congregation. then he closed his eyes to shut out the sight of the abyss that yawned at his feet; but even through his closed eyelids he saw the carven bench and the figure of agnes, her black dress standing out in relief against the grey wall of the church.

and agnes was really there, dressed in black with a black veil round her ivory-white face; her eyes were fixed on her prayer-book, the gilt clasp of which glittered in her black-gloved hands, but she never turned a page. the servant with the head of a slave was kneeling on the floor of the aisle beside the bench, and every now and then she raised her eyes, like a faithful dog, to her mistress's face, as though in silent sympathy with the sad thoughts that possessed her.

and he beheld everything from his place at the altar and hope died within him; only from the bottom of his heart he told himself it was impossible that agnes would carry out her insane threat. he turned the pages of the gospel, but his faltering voice could scarcely pronounce the words; he broke into a sweat of apprehension, and caught hold of the book as he felt himself fainting.

in a moment he pulled himself together. antiochus was looking at him, watching the awful change that came over his face as over the face of a corpse, keeping close beside him to support him if he fell, and glancing at the old men by the altar rails to see if they had noticed the priest's distress. but nobody noticed it—even his mother remained in her place, praying and waiting without seeing anything amiss with her son. then antiochus drew still closer to him with a protecting movement, so that paul looked round startled, but the boy gave him a reassuring glance out of his bright eyes, as much as to say:

"i am here, it's all right, go on——"

and he went on, climbing that steep calvary till the blood flowed back into his heart and the tension of his nerves relaxed. but it was the relaxation of despair, the abandonment to danger, the quiet of the drowning man who has no more strength to battle with the waves. when he turned again to the congregation he did not close his eyes.

"the lord be with you."

agnes was there in her place, bent over the page she never turned, the gilt clasp of the book shining in the dim light. the servant was crouching at her feet and all the other women, including his mother at the bottom of the church, were sitting back on their heels on the bare floor, ready to resume their kneeling position immediately the priest should move the book.

and he moved the book and went on with the prayers and the slow gestures of the ritual. and a feeling of tenderness crept into his despair at the thought that agnes was bearing him company on his road to calvary, as mary had followed too, that in another moment she would mount the altar steps and stand beside him once again, having overcome their transgression, to expiate together as together they had sinned. how could he hate her if she brought his punishment with her, if her hatred was only love disguised?

then came the communion, and the few drops of wine went down into his breast like quickening blood; he felt strong, revived, his heart filled with the presence of god.

and as he descended the steps towards the women the figure of agnes in her seat stood out prominent amidst the crowd of bowed heads. she, too, had bowed her head upon her hands; perhaps she was summoning her courage before she moved. and suddenly he felt infinite pity for her; he would have liked to go down to her and give her absolution, and administer the communion as to a dying woman. he, too, had summoned his courage, but his hands shook as he held the wafer to the women's lips.

immediately the communion was ended an old peasant began to intone a hymn. the congregation sang the verses after him in subdued voices, and repeated the antiphons twice out loud. the hymn was primitive and monotonous, old as the earliest prayers of man uttered in forests where as yet scarcely man dwelt, old and monotonous as the breaking of waves on a solitary shore; yet that low singing around her sufficed to bring agnes's thoughts back, as though she had been rushing breathless by night through some primeval forest and had suddenly emerged upon the seashore, amidst sandhills covered with sweet flowers and golden in the light of dawn.

something stirred in the very depths of her being, a strange emotion gripped her throat; she felt the world turning round with her as though she had been walking head downwards and now resumed her natural position.

it was her past and the past of all her race that surged up and took hold of her, with the singing of the women and the old men, with the voices of her nurse and her servants, the men and women who had built and furnished her house, and ploughed her fields and woven the linen for her swaddling clothes.

how could she denounce herself before all these people who looked up to her as their mistress and held her even purer than the priest at the altar? and then she, too, felt the presence of god around her and within her, even in her passion itself.

she knew very well that the punishment she meant to inflict upon the man with whom she had sinned was her own punishment too; but now a merciful god spoke to her with the voices of the old men and women and the innocent children, and bade her beware of her own self, counselled her to seek salvation.

as her people round her sang the verses of the hymn, all the days of her solitary life unrolled themselves before her inward vision. she saw herself again a little child, then a young girl, then a grown woman in this same church, on this same seat blackened and worn by the elbows and knees of her forefathers. in a sense the church belonged to her family; it had been built by one of her ancestors, and tradition said that the image of the madonna had been captured from barbary pirates and brought back to the village by a far-away grandfather of hers.

she had been born and brought up amidst these traditions, in an atmosphere of simple grandeur that kept her aloof from the smaller people of aar, yet still in the midst of them, shut in amongst them like a pearl in its rough shell.

how could she denounce herself before her people? but this very feeling of being mistress even of the sacred building rendered more insufferable still the presence of the man who had been her companion in sin, and who appeared at the altar wearing a mask of saintliness and bearing the holy vessels in his hands—tall and splendid he stood above her as she knelt at his feet, guilty in that she had loved him.

her heart swelled anew with rage and grief as the hymn rose and fell around her, like a supplication rising from out some abyss, imploring help and justice, and she heard the voice of god, dark and stern, bidding her drive his unworthy servant out of his temple.

she grew pale as death and broke into a cold sweat; her knees shook against the seat, but she bowed no more and with head erect she watched the movements of the priest at the altar. and it was as though some evil breath went out from her to him, paralysing him, enveloping him in the same icy grip that held her fast.

and he felt that mortal breath that emanated from her will, and just as on bitter winter mornings, his fingers were frozen and uncontrollable shivers ran down his spine. when he turned to give the benediction he saw agnes gazing at him. their eyes met as in a flash, and like a drowning man he remembered in that instant all the joy of his life, joy sprung wholly and solely from love of her, from the first look of her eyes, the first kiss of her lips.

then he saw her rise from her seat, book in hand.

"oh god, thy will be done," he stammered, kneeling—and he seemed to be actually in the garden of olives, watching the shadow of an inexorable fate.

he prayed aloud and waited, and midst the confused sound of the people's prayers he thought he could distinguish agnes's step as she moved toward the altar.

"she is coming—she has left her seat, she is between her seat and the altar. she is coming ... she is here—every one is staring at her. she is at my side!"

the obsession was so strong that the words failed on his lips. he saw antiochus, who had already begun to extinguish the candles, suddenly turn and look round, and he knew for certain that she was there, close to him, on the chancel steps.

he rose to his feet, the roof seemed to fall down upon his head and fracture it; his knees scarcely upheld him, but with a sudden effort he managed to get up to the altar again and take the pyx. and as he turned to enter the sacristy he saw that agnes had advanced from her seat to the railing and was about to mount the steps.

"oh, lord, why not let me die?" and he bowed his head over the pyx as though baring his neck to the sword that was about to strike it. but as he entered the sacristy door he looked again and perceived agnes bowed at the altar railing as she knelt on the lowest step.

she had stumbled at the lowest step outside the railing, and as though a wall had suddenly risen up before her, she had dropped on her knees. a thick mist dimmed her sight and she could go no further.

presently the dimness cleared and she could see the steps again, the yellow carpet before the altar, the flowers upon the table and the burning lamp. but the priest had disappeared, and in his place a ray of sunlight smote obliquely through the dusk and made a golden patch upon the carpet.

she crossed herself, rose to her feet and moved towards the door. the servant followed her and the old men, the women and the children turned to smile at her and bless her with their eyes; she was their mistress, their symbol of beauty and of faith, so far removed from them and yet in the midst of them and all their misery, like a wild rose amongst the brambles.

at the church door the servant offered her holy water on the tips of her fingers, and then stooped to brush off the dust of the altar steps which still clung to her dress. as the girl raised herself again she saw the ashen face of agnes turned towards the corner where the priest's mother had knelt through all the service. then she saw the mother sitting motionless on the ground, her head sunk forward on her breast, her shoulders leaning against the wall as though she had made a supreme effort to uphold it in a great collapse. noticing the fixed gaze of agnes and the servant, a woman also turned to look, then sprang quickly to the side of the priest's mother, spoke to her in a whisper and raised her face in her hand.

the mother's eyes were half-closed, glassy, the pupils upturned; the rosary had dropped from her hand and her head fell sideways on to the shoulder of the woman who held her.

"she is dead!" shrieked the woman.

and instantly the whole congregation was on its feet and crowding to the bottom of the church.

meanwhile paul had gone back into the sacristy with antiochus, who was carrying the book of the gospel. he was trembling with cold and with relief; he actually felt as though he had just escaped from a shipwreck, and he wanted to energize and walk about to warm himself and convince himself that it had all been a bad dream.

then a confused murmur of voices was heard in the church, at first low, then growing quickly louder and louder. antiochus put his head out of the sacristy door and saw all the people collected together at the bottom of the nave, as though there were some obstruction at the entrance, but an old man was already hastening up the chancel steps and making mysterious signs.

"his mother is taken ill," he said.

paul, still robed in his alb, was down there at one bound and threw himself on his knees that he might look more closely into his mother's face as she lay stretched on the ground, with her head in a woman's lap and hemmed in by the pressing crowd.

"mother, mother!"

the face was still and rigid, the eyes half-closed, the teeth clenched in the effort not to cry aloud.

and he knew instantly that she had died of the shock of that same grief, that same terror which he had been enabled to overcome.

and he, too, clenched his teeth that he might not cry aloud when he raised his head; and across the confused mass of the people surging round, his eyes met the eyes of agnes fixed upon him.