"Sir, sir," cried Prosper, "you do but fog yourself to little purpose!
But you should live honestly and sanely, going much abroad, and you
would have no doubts."
"My author," said Spiridion calmly, indicating his Hebrew text, "tells
me that there are one-and-thirty different ways of finding God out. Of
which crystal-gazing, says he in a famous passage, is the readiest.
But as yet I have not found it so. Maybe I shall try yours another
day--if I have another day."
Whereupon, as if reminded of his delaying, he would have turned again
to his work; but Prosper clapped a hand to his shoulder.
"Have done with groping in books, Spiridion," cried he, "and tell me
if you think this a time for such folly, when your life is threatened
by Galors and his riders?"
"It is the time of all times," returned Spiridion; "for if I know not
who is really God of all the host with claims to His rank, how shall I
pray when my visitation comes, or how pray that it come not? It was
for lack of this knowledge that my people were murdered the other day.
So you see that the affair is urgent."
"I think the defence of the house and a long sword would fit your case
better," said Prosper dryly. "Meanwhile, you must forgive me if I
remind you that I have ridden all day without food or rest, and beg of
you to afford me one or the other."
"Ten thousand pardons!" said Spiridion, getting up at once, "that my
little griefs should make me forget your serious claims upon my
hospitality. Come, sir, here are bread and olives, here is a flask of
a very passable wine--all at your service. Afterwards we will share a
bed."
They sat on books, and ate what there was. Outside the wind had
freshened; it buffeted fitfully but fiercely at the window, and came
with dashes of rain. Down the corridor they could hear the casements
swinging and banging, and over all the wind itself roaring through the
great bare passages as if they had been tunnels.
"A wild night, Spiridion," said Prosper. "And what a night," thought
he, "for a surprise."
"Wild enough," replied Spiridion, "but I am indifferent to weather,
being seldom abroad. How do you find this wine?"
"Excellent," said Prosper, and drained his glass.
"Of this Galors, whom I think you know," Spiridion continued, "I hear
bad reports. Not only has he cut the throats of my household, but from
the account given me by my fair friend (concerning whom," he said with
a bow, "we are agreed to differ), I fear he is otherwise of a wild and
irregular conversation."
"You are right there, my friend," laughed Prosper.
"If he murders me," the other went on, sipping his wine, "it will be
on some such night as this."