there were only a few stars visible, it was not easy to find it,

but at last they managed it, and the police director surveyed the
neighborhood of it.

"The position is not a very favorable one for us," he said at
last; "there is nothing here, not even a shrub, behind which we

could hide."
But just then, the policeman reported that he had tried to get

into the sexton's hut through the door or a window, and that at
last he had succeeded in doing so by breaking open a square in a

window which had been mended with paper, that he had opened it
and obtained possession of the key, which he brought to the

police director.
The plans were very quickly settled. The police director had the

chapel opened and went in with the young Latitudinarian; then he
told the police sergeant to lock the door behind him and to put

the key back where he had found it, and to shut the window of the
sexton's cottage carefully. Lastly, he made arrangements as to

what they were to do, in case anything unforeseen should occur,
whereupon the sergeant and the constable left the churchyard, and

lay down in a ditch at some distance from the gate, but opposite
to it.

Almost as soon as the clock struck half past eleven, they heard
steps near the chapel, whereupon the police director and the

young Latitudinarian went to the window in order to watch the
beginning of the exorcism, and as the chapel was in total

darkness, they thought that they should be able to see without
being seen; but matters turned out differently from what they

expected.
Suddenly, the key turned in the lock. They barely had time to

conceal themselves behind the altar, before two men came in, one
of whom was carrying a dark lantern. One was the young man's

father, an elderly man of the middle class, who seemed very
unhappy and depressed, the other the Jesuit father X----, a tall,

lean, big-boned man, with a thin, bilious face, in which two
large gray eyes shone restlessly under bushy, black eyebrows. He

lit the tapers, which were standing on the altar, and began to
say a "Requiem Mass"; while the old man kneeled on the altar

steps and served him.
When it was over, the Jesuit took the book of the Gospels and the

holy-water sprinkler, and went slowly out of the chapel, the old
man following him with the holy-water basin in one hand, and a

taper in the other. Then the police director left his hiding
place, and stooping down, so as not to be seen, crept to the

chapel window, where he cowered down carefully; the young man
followed his example. They were now looking straight at his

mother's grave.
The Jesuit, followed by the superstitious old man, walked three

times round the grave; then he remained standing before it, and
by the light of the taper read a few passages from the Gospel.

Then he dipped the holy-water sprinkler three times into the
holy-water basin, and sprinkled the grave three times. Then both

returned to the chapel, kneeled down outside it with their faces
toward the grave, and began to pray aloud, until at last the

Jesuit sprang up, in a species of wild ecstasy, and cried out
three times in a shrill voice:

"Exsurge! Exsurge! Exsurge!"[1]
[1] Arise!

Scarcely had the last words of the exorcism died away, when
thick, blue smoke rose out of the grave, rapidly grew into a

cloud, and began to assume the outlines of a human body, until at
last a tall, white figure stood behind the grave, and beckoned

with its hand.
"Who art thou?" the Jesuit asked solemnly, while the old man

began to cry.
"When I was alive, I was called Anna Maria B----," replied the

ghost in a hollow voice.
"Will you answer all my questions?" the priest continued.

"As far as I can."
"Have you not yet been delivered from purgatory by our prayers,

and by all the Masses for your soul, which we have said for you?"
"Not yet, but soon, soon I shall be."

"When?"
"As soon as that blasphemer, my son, has been punished."

"Has that not already happened? Has not your husband disinherited
his lost son, and in his place made the Church his heir?"

"That is not enough."
"What must he do besides?"

"He must deposit his will with the Judicial Authorities, as his
last will and testament, and drive the reprobate out of his

house."
"Consider well what you are saying; must this really be?"

"It must, or otherwise I shall have to languish in purgatory much
longer," the sepulchral voice replied with a deep sigh; but the

next moment the ghost yelled out in terror: "Oh! Good Lord!" and
began to run away as fast as it could. A shrillwhistle was

heard, and then another, and the police director laid his hand on
the shoulder of the exorciser with the remark:

"You are in custody."
Meanwhile, the police sergeant and the policeman, who had come

into the churchyard, had caught the ghost, and dragged it
forward. It was the sexton, who had put on a flowing, white

dress, and wore a wax mask, which bore a strikingresemblance to
his mother, so the son declared.

When the case was heard, it was proved that the mask had been
very skillfully made from a portrait of the deceased woman. The

government gave orders that the matter should be investigated as
secretly as possible, and left the punishment of Father X----to

the spiritual authorities, which was a matter of necessity, at a
time when priests were outside of the jurisdiction of the civil

authorities. It is needless to say that Father X----was very
comfortable during his imprisonment in a monastery, in a part of

the country which abounded with game and trout.
The only valuable result of the amusing ghost story was that it

brought about a reconciliation between father and son; the
former, as a matter of fact, felt such deep respect for priests

and their ghosts in consequence of the apparition, that a short
time after his wife had left purgatory for the last time in order

to talk with him, he turned Protestant.
WAS IT A DREAM?

"I had loved her madly!
"Why does one love? Why does one love? How queer it is to see

only one being in the world, to have only one thought in one's
mind, only one desire in the heart, and only one name on the

lips--a name which comes up continually, rising, like the water
in a spring, from the depths of the soul to the lips, a name

which one repeats over and over again, which one whispers
ceaselessly, everywhere, like a prayer.

"I am going to tell you our story, for love only has one, which
is always the same. I met her and loved her; that is all. And for

a whole year I have lived on her tenderness, on her caresses, in
her arms, in her dresses, on her words, so completely wrapped up,

bound, and absorbed in everything which came from her, that I no
longer cared whether it was day or night, or whether I was dead

or alive, on this old earth of ours.