He laughed a deep-throated laugh, and strode down the hill with his little
lady on his arm.
But when he had mounted and was riding off, the crowd, recovering courage
from his remoteness, hurled its curses after him and shrilly branded him,
"Derider!" and "Blasphemer!"
He rode contemptuously amain, however, looking back but once, and then to
laugh at them.
Soon he had dipped out of sight, and of his company nothing was visible but
the fluttering red pennons with the device of the white horse-head.
Gradually these also sank and vanished, and once more I was alone with the
crowd of pilgrims.
Enjoining prayer upon them again, I turned and re-entered the hut.
CHAPTER VIII
THE VISION
Pray as we might, night came and still the image gave no sign. The crowd
melted away, with promises to return at dawn--promises that sounded almost
like a menace in my ears.
I was alone once more, alone with my thoughts and these made sport of me.
It was not only upon the unresponsiveness of St. Sebastian that my mind now
dwelt, nor yet upon the horrid dread that this unresponsiveness might be a
sign of Heaven's displeasure, an indication that as a custodian of that
shrine I was unacceptable through the mire of sin that still clung to me.
Rather, my thoughts went straying down the mountain-side in the wake of
that gallant company, that stern-faced man and that gentle-eyed little lady
who had hung upon his arm.
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