Spirits of the Astral Regions which are joined with him, and they said, ‘We are thine for seven hundred years.’  At last came Death on his pale horse, crying, ‘I will obey thee!’ One and all fell prostrate before her.  Could you but have seen them!  They covered as it were a vast plain, and they cried aloud to her, ’We have nurtured thee, thou art our child; do not abandon us!’ At length Life issued from her Ruby Waters, and said, ‘I will not leave thee!’ then, finding Seraphita silent, she flamed upon her as the sun, crying out, ‘I am light!’ ’The light is there!’ cried Seraphita, pointing to the clouds where stood the archangels; but she was wearied out; Desire had wrung her nerves, she could only cry, ‘My God! my God!’ Ah! many an Angelic Spirit, scaling the mountain and nigh to the summit, has set his foot upon a rolling stone which plunged him back into the abyss!  All these lost Spirits adored her constancy; they stood around her,—­a choir without a song,—­weeping and whispering, ‘Courage!’ At last she conquered; Desire—­let loose upon her in every Shape and every Species—­was vanquished.  She stood in prayer, and when at last her eyes were lifted she saw the feet of Angels circling in the Heavens.”

“She saw the feet of Angels?” repeated Wilfrid.

“Yes,” said the old man.

“Was it a dream that she told you?” asked Wilfrid.

“A dream as real as your life,” answered David; “I was there.”

The calm assurance of the old servant affected Wilfrid powerfully.  He went away asking himself whether these visions were any less extraordinary than those he had read of in Swedenborg the night before.

“If Spirits exist, they must act,” he was saying to himself as he entered the parsonage, where he found Monsieur Becker alone.

“Dear pastor,” he said, “Seraphita is connected with us in form only, and even that form is inexplicable.  Do not think me a madman or a lover; a profound conviction cannot be argued with.  Convert my belief into scientific theories, and let us try to enlighten each other.  To-morrow evening we shall both be with her.”

“What then?” said Monsieur Becker.

“If her eye ignores space,” replied Wilfrid, “if her thought is an intelligent sight which enables her to perceive all things in their essence, and to connect them with the general evolution of the universe, if, in a word, she sees and knows all, let us seat the Pythoness on her tripod, let us force this pitiless eagle by threats to spread its wings!  Help me!  I breathe a fire which burns my vitals; I must quench it or it will consume me.  I have found a prey at last, and it shall be mine!”

“The conquest will be difficult,” said the pastor, “because this girl is—­”

“Is what?” cried Wilfrid.

“Mad,” said the old man.

“I will not dispute her madness, but neither must you dispute her wonderful powers.  Dear Monsieur Becker, she has often confounded me with her learning.  Has she travelled?”