complished. She spoke with equal | found him an unexpectedly interesting facility Polish, High Dutch, French, object of study. It was not in the perItalian, and English. "She is friendly, sonal appearance of the little, dry, compassionate, chiaritable, her piety is wizened old man that the interest lay, exemplary, and in truth she leads the for he was precisely like dozens of life of a saint without affecting the other church-guardians in France, but show of ceremonial devotion." She in a curious furtive, or rather hunted died in 1735, at the early age of thirty- and oppressed, air which he had. He three. A year before her death she was perpetually half-glancing behind wrote to one of her relations, "Lasse him; the muscles of his back and et malheureuse, je succombe sous le shoulders seemed to be hunched in a poids." continual nervous contraction, as if he were expecting overy moment to find himself in the clutch of an enemy. The Englishman hardly knew whether to put him down as a man haunted by a fixed delusion, or as one oppressed by a guilty conscience, or as an unbearably henpecked husband. The probabilities when reckoned up certainly pointed to the last idea, but still, the impression conveyed was that of a more formidable persecutor even than a termagant wife. From The National Review. THE SCRAP-BOOK OF CANON ALBERIC. 4 S. BERTRAND DE COMMINGES is a decayed town on the spurs of the Pyrenees, not very far from Toulouse, and still nearer to Bagnères-de-Luchon. It was the site of a bishopric until the Revolution, and has a cathedral which is visited by a certain number of tour- However, the Englishman (let us sts. In the spring of 188- an English- call him Anderson) was soon too deep man arrived at this old-world place in his note-book and too busy with his city, I might call it, but there are not camera to give more than an occasional a thousand inhabitants. He was a glance to the sacristan. Whenever he Cambridge man, who had come spe- did look at him he found him at no cially from Toulouse to see St. Ber- great distance, either huddling himself trand's Church, and had left two back against the wall, or crouching in friends, who were less keen archæolo- one of the gorgeous stalls. Anderson gists than himself, in their hotel at Toulouse, under promise to join him en the following morning. Half an hour at the church would satisfy them, and all three could then pursue their journey in the direction of Auch. But our Englishman had come early on the day in question, aud proposed to himself to fill a note-book and to use several dozens of plates in the process of describing and photographing every corner of the wonderful church that dominates the little hill of Comminges. In order to carry out this design satisfactorily, it was clearly necessary to monopolize the verger of the church for the day. The verger or sacristan (I prefer the latter appellation, inaccurate as it may be) was accordingly sent for by the somewhat brusque lady who keeps the inn of the Chapeau Rouge; and when he came, the Englishman became rather fidgety after a time. Mingled suspicions that he was keeping the old man from his déjeûner, that he was regarded as likely to make away with St. Bertrand's ivory crozier, or with the dusty stuffed crocodile that hangs over the font, began to torment him. "Won't you go home ?" he said at last; "I'm quite well able to finish my notes alone; you can lock me in if you like. I shall want at least two hours more here, and it must be cold for you, isn't it?" "Good heavens !" said the little man, whom the suggestion seemed to throw into a state of unaccountable terror, "such a thing cannot be thought of for a moment. Leave monsieur alone in the church? No, no; two hours, three hours, all will be the same to me. I have breakfasted, I am not at all cold, with many thanks to mon- the day; the man must be a monosieur." maniac; but what was his monoma "Very well, my little man," quothnia? Anderson to himself, “you have been It was nearly five o'clock; the short warned and you must take the conse-day was drawing in, and the church quences." began to fill with shadows, while the Before the expiration of the two curious noises-the muffled foot-falls hours, the stalls, the enormous dilapi- and distant talking voices that had dated organ, the choir-screen of Bishop been perceptible all day-seemed, no John de Mauléon, the remnants of doubt because of the fading light and glass and tapestry, and the objects in the consequently quickened sense of the treasure-chamber, had been well hearing, to become more frequent and and truly examined; the sacristan still insistent. The sacristan began for the keeping at Anderson's heels, and every first time to show signs of hurry and now and then whipping round as if impatience. He heaved a sigh of relief he had been stung, when one or other when of the strange noises that trouble a large, empty building fell on his ear. Curious noises they were sometimes. Once," "Anderson said to me, "I could have sworn I heard a thin, metallic voice laughing high up in the tower. I shot an inquiring glance at my sacristan. He was white to the lips. It is he, that is it is no one; the door is locked,' was all he said, mountain-streams, calling the dwellers! and we looked at each other for a full minute." Camera and note-book were finally packed up and stowed away, and hurriedly beckoned Anderson to the western door of the church, under the tower. It was time to ring the Angelus; a few. pulls at the reluctant rope, and the great bell Bertrande, high in the tower, began to speak, and swung her voice up among the pines, and down to the valleys, loud with risty." on those lonely hills to remember and repeat the salutation of the angel to her Another little incident puzzled An- whom he called Blessed among women. derson a good deal. He was examin- With that a profound quiet seemed to ing a large, dark picture that bangs fall for the first time that day upon the behind the altar, one of a series illus-little town, and Anderson and the trating the miracles of St. Bertrand. sacristan went out of the church. The composition of the picture is On the doorstep they fell into conwell-nigh indecipherable, but there is a versation. Latin legend below, which runs thus: "Monsieur seemed to interest himQualiter S. Bertrandus liberavit hom-self in the old choir-books in the sacinem quem diabolus diu volevat strangulare!" (How St. Bertrand delivered a man whom the devil long sought to strangle.) Anderson was turning to the sacristan with a smile and a jocular "No, monsieur; perhaps there used remark of some sort on his lips, but he to be one belonging to the chapter, but was confounded to see the old man on it is now such a small place his knees, gazing at the picture with Here came a strange pause of irresoluthe eye of a suppliant in agony, his tion, as it seemed. Then, with a sort hands tightly clasped, and a rain of of plunge, he went on: "But if montears on his checks. Anderson natu- sieur is amateur des vieux livres, I have rally pretended to have noticed noth-at home something that might interest ing, but the question would not away him. It is not a hundred yards.” from him, .. "Undoubtedly; I was going to ask you if there were a library in the town.' ! At once all Anderson's cherished dreams of finding priceless manuscripts in untrodden corners of France flashed up, to die down again the next moment. It was probably a stupid missal of him. Plantin's printing, about 1580;| mark, not so much of fear for personal safety as of acute anxiety on behalf of another. Plainly, the owner of the face was the sacristan's daughter; and, but for the expression I have described, she was a handsome girl enough. She brightened up considerably on seeing her father accompanied by an able-bodied stranger. A few remarks passed between father and daughter, of which Anderson only caught these words, said by the sacristan, "He was laughing in the church," words which were answered only by a look of terror from the girl. where was the likelihood that a place to near Toulouse would not have been ansacked long ago by collectors ? However, it would be foolish not to go; he would reproach himself forever after if he refused.. So they set off. On the way the curious irresolution and sudden determination of the sacristan curred to Anderson, and he wondered in a shame-faced way whether he was being decoyed into some purlieu to be male away with as a supposed rich Englishman. He contrived, therefore, to begin talking with his guide, and to drag in, in a rather clumsy fashion, But in another minute they were in the fact that he expected two friends the sitting-room of the house, a small, to join him early the next morning. | high chamber with a stone floor, full of To his surprise, the announcement moving shadows cast by a wood fire seemed to relieve the sacristan at once that flickered on a great hearth. Somesome of the anxiety that oppressed thing of the character of an oratory was imparted to it by a tall crucifix "That is well," he said, quite which reached almost to the ceiling on brightly, "that is very well. Mon-one side; the figure was painted of the sieur will travel in company with his natural colors, the cross was black. friends; they will be always near him. Under this stood a chest of some age It is a good thing to travel thus in com- and solidity, and when a lamp had jany sometimes." The last word been brought, and chairs set, the appeared to be added as an after- sacristan went to this chest, and prothought, and to bring with it a relapse duced therefrom, with growing exciteinto gloom for the poor little man. ment and nervousness, as Anderson They were soon at the house, which thought, a large book wrapped in a was one rather larger than its neigh-white cloth, on which cloth a cross was bors, stone-built, with a shield carved rudely embroidered in red thread. over the door, the shield of Alberic de Even before the wrapping had been Mauléon, a collateral descendant, An- removed, Anderson began to be inderson tells me, of Bishop John de terested by the size and shape of the Mauléon. This Alberic was a canon volume. "Too large for a missal," he of Comminges from 1680-1701. The upper windows of the mansion were boarded up, and the whole place bore, does the rest of Comminges, the aspect of decaying age. Arrived on his doorstep, the sacristan paused a moment. ་ thought, "and not the shape of an antiphoner; perhaps it may be something good after all." The next moment the book was open, and Anderson felt that he had at last lit upon something better than good. Before him lay a large folio, bound, perhaps, late in the seventeenth century, with the arms of Canon Alberic de Mauléon stamped in gold on the sides. There may have been a hundred and fifty leaves of paper in the book, and on The door was opened at this point, almost every one of them was fastened and a face looked out, a face far a leaf from an illuminated manuscript. younger than the sacristan's, but bear- Such a collection Anderson had hardly ing something of the same distressing dreamed of in his wildest moments. book, only here it seemed to be the Here were ten leaves from a copy Perhaps," he said, "perhaps after monsieur has not the time?" "Not at all—lots of time-nothing to do till to-morrow. Let us see what is you have got." "A good specimen of the treasure hunter's record; quite reminds one o Mr. Minor-Canon Quatremain in 'Old St. Paul's,"" was Anderson's com ment, and he turned the leaf. of Genesis, illustrated with pictures, | Fies. Si vivam invidendus? Vives which could not be later than 700 A.D. Si moriar in lecto meo? Ita." (An Further on was a complete set of pic-swers of the 12th of December, 1694 tures from the Psalter of English exe-It was asked: Shall I find it? Answer cution, of the very best kind that the Thou shalt. Shall I become richi thirteenth century could produce; and, Thou wilt. Shall I live an object o perhaps, best of all, there were twenty envy? Thou wilt. Shall I die in my leaves of uncial writing in Latin, bed? Thou wilt.) which, as a few words seen here and there told him at once, must belong to some very early unknown patristic treatise. Could it possibly be a fragment of the copy of Papias "On the Words of Our Lord," which was known to have existed as late as the twelfth century at Nismes ?1 In any case, his mind was made up; that book must return to Cambridge with him, even if he had to draw the whole of his balance from the bank and stay at S. Bertrand till the money came. He glanced up at the sacristan to see if his face yielded any hint that the book was for sale. The sacristan was pale, and his lips were working. What he then saw impressed him, as he has often told me, more than he could have conceived any drawing o picture capable of impressing him And, though the drawing he saw is no longer in existence, there is a photo graph of it (which I possess), which fully bears out Anderson's statement The picture in question was a sepia drawing of the end of the seventeentl century, representing, one would say a first sight, a Biblical scene; for the "If monsieur will turn on to the architecture (the picture represented end," he said. an interior) and the figures had that So monsieur turned on, meeting new semi-classical flavor about them which treasures at every rise of a leaf; and the artists of two hundred years ago at the end of the book he came upon thought appropriate to illustrations of two sheets of paper, of much more the Bible. On the right was a king on recent date than anything he had yet his throne, the throne elevated ou seen, which puzzled him considerably. twelve steps, a canopy overhead, sol They must be contemporary, he de- diers on either side-evidently King cided, with the unprincipled Canon Solomon. He was bending forward Alberic, who had doubtless plundered with outstretched sceptre, in attitude the chapter library of S. Bertrand to of command; his face expressed horror form this priceless scrap-book. On the and disgust, yet there was in it also the first of the paper sheets was a plan, mark of imperious command and conficarefully drawn and instantly recog-dent power. The left half of the picnizable by a person who knew the ture was the strangest, however. The ground, of the south aisle and cloisters interest plainly centred there. On the of S. Bertrand's. There were curious pavement before the throne were signs looking like planetary symbols, grouped four soldiers, surrounding a and a few Hebrew words in the cor- crouching figure which must be deners; and in the north-west angle of scribed in a moment. A fifth soldier the cloister was a cross drawn in gold lay dead on the pavement, his neck paint. Below the plan were some lines distorted and his eyeballs starting from of writing in Latin which ran thus: his head. The four surrounding guards "Responsa 12 mi Dec. 1694. Inter- were looking at the king. In their rogatum est: Si inveniam? Respon- faces the sentiment of horror was insum est. Invenies. Si fiam dives? tensified; they seemed, in fact, only restrained from flight by their implicit 1 We now know that these leaves did contain a considerable fragment of that work, if not of that trust in their master. All this terror actual copy of it. was plainly excited by the being that But the answer did not vary. will take two hundred and fifty francs, not more." crouched in their midst. I entirely and Anderson's conscience was tendespair of conveying by any words the derer than a collector's. "My good impression which this figure makes man!" he said again and again, "your upon any one who looks at it. I recol- book is worth far more than two hunlect once showing the photograph of dred and fifty francs, I assure you, far the drawing to a lecturer on morphol- more." gy, a person of, I was going to say, "I abnormally sane and unimaginative habits of mind. He absolutely refused to be alone for the rest of that evening, There was really no possibility of and he told me afterwards that for refusing such a chance. The money many nights he had not dared to put was paid, the receipt signed, a glass of out his light before going to sleep. wine (Vin de Limoux, not to be recomHowever, the main traits of the figure mended) drunk over the transaction, I can at least indicate. At first you and then the sacristan seemed to bew only a mass of coarse, matted come a new man. He stood upright, black hair; presently it was seen that he ceased to throw those suspicious this covered a body of fearful thinness, glances behind him, he actually laughed almost a skeleton, but with the muscles or tried to laugh. Anderson rose to standing out like wires. The hands go. were of a dusky pallor, covered, like "I shall have the honor of accom "Oh no, thanks! it isn't a hundred yards. I know the way perfectly, and there is a moon." The offer was pressed three or four times, and refused as often. the body, with long, coarse hairs, and panying monsieur to his hotel ?" said hideously taloned. The eyes, touched the sacristan. in with a burning yellow, had intensely black pupils, and were fixed upon the throned king with a look of beast-like late. Imagine one of the awful birdcatching spiders of South America translated into human form and endowed with intelligence just less than human, and you will have some faint conception of the terror inspired by the appalling effigy. One remark is universally made by those to whom I have shown the picture: "It was drawn from the life." As soon as the first shock of his irresistible fright had subsided, Anderson stole a look at his hosts. The sacristan's hands were pressed upon his eyes; his daughter, looking up at the cross on the wall, was telling her beads feverishly. At last the question was asked. this book for sale ?" "Is There was the same hesitation, the tame plunge of determination that he had noticed before, and then came the welcome answer: "If monsieur pleases.” "How much do you ask for it?" "I will take two hundred and fifty francs." This was confounding. Even a collector's conscience is sometimes stirred, 270 LIVING AGE. VOL. VI. "Then monsieur will summon me if if he finds occasion; he will keep the middle of the road, the sides are so rough." "Certainly, certainly," said Anderson, who was impatient to examine his prize by himself; and he stepped out into the passage with his book under his arm. Here he was met by the daughter; she, it appeared, was anxious to do a little business on her account; perhaps, like Gehazi, to "take somewhat" from the foreigner whom her father had spared. "A silver crucifix and chain for the neck; monsieur would perhaps be good enough to accept it?" Well really, Anderson hadn't much use for these things; what did mademoiselle want for it? "Nothing, nothing in the world. Monsieur is more than welcome to it." The tone in which this, and much more, was said was unmistakably genuine, so that Anderson was reduced to profuse thanks, and submitted to have the chain put round his neck. It |