We started on our expedition one day after dinner, and, having reached
the hill, began climbing the clay landslides that had been torn from
its side by grave diggers long dead and by the freshets of Spring.
These landslides had stripped the hillside bare, and here and there
white, crumbling bones protruded through the clay. In one place the
rotting corner of a coffin jutted out; in another a human skull grinned
at us, fixing us with its dark, hollow eyes.
At last, lending one another a hand, we scrambled up over the last
cliff and found ourselves on the summit of the hill. The sun was
already nearing the horizon. Its slanting rays were tenderly gilding
the sward of the old cemetery, playing across its ancient, zig-zag
crosses, and streaming through the windows of the chapel. The air was
still, and about us reigned the deep peace of a deserted burial ground.
Here we no longer saw skulls and shank-bones and coffins. A soft,
gently sloping carpet of fresh green grass had lovingly concealed in
its embrace the horror and ugliness of death.
We were alone. Only the sparrows were bustling merrily about us, and
a few swallows were silently flying in and out of the windows of the
chapel standing disconsolately among its grassy graves, modest crosses,
and the tumble-down stone sepulchres on the débris of which gleamed the
bright faces of butter-cups, violets, and clover blossoms.
“No one is here,” said one of my companions.
“The sun is setting,” added another, looking at the sun, which,
although it had not yet set, was hanging low above the hill.
The doors and windows were boarded up for some distance above the
ground, but, with the help of my companions, I had hopes of scaling
them and peeping into the chapel.
“Don’t!” cried one of my band, suddenly losing his courage and seizing
my arm.
“Get away, you old woman!” the oldest of our little army shouted at
him, deftly offering me his back.
I jumped bravely upon it; he stood up, and I found myself with my feet
on his shoulders. In this position I could easily reach the window-sill
with my hand. I made sure of its strength, and then pulled myself up
and sat on it.
“Well, what do you see?” the boys asked from below, with lively
curiosity.
I was silent. By peering over the sill I could see down into the
interior of the chapel, from whence there rose to meet me all the
solemn quiet of an abandoned place of worship. The interior of the
tall, narrow building was innocent of paint. The evening sunlight was
streaming unobstructed through the open windows, staining the peeling
walls a brilliant gold. I saw the inside of the closed door, the
crumbling gallery, the ancient tottering columns. The distance from
the window to the floor appeared much greater than from the window to
the grass outside. I seemed to be looking down into a deep abyss, and
at first I could not make out what certain strange objects were whose
fantastic forms were resting upon the floor.
Meanwhile my friends were growing weary of standing below waiting for
me to give them news, and one of them climbed up by the same method
that I had employed, and took his seat beside me, holding on to the
window frame.
“That’s the altar,” he said, looking down at one of the strange objects
on the floor.
“And that’s the lustre.”
“And that’s the little table for the Bible.”
“Yes, but what’s that?” I asked, pointing to the dark shape that lay
beside the altar.
“That’s a priest’s hat.”
“No, it’s a bucket.”
“What would they have used a bucket for?”
“To carry coals for the incense.”
“No, it certainly is a hat. Anyhow, we can find out!” I cried. “Here,
let’s tie your belt to the window-sill, and you can let yourself down
by it!”
“I like that! Let yourself down if you want to!”
“Do you think I wouldn’t go?”
“Go on then!”
Acting on impulse I tied the two belts together, slipped them under the
window-sill, and, giving one end to my companion, let myself down by
the other. I trembled as my feet touched the floor, but a glance at my
friend’s face bending sympathetically over me reassured me. The sound
of my heels rang out under the ceiling, resounding in the chapel’s
void, and echoing among its dark corners. A few sparrows started up
from their roosts in the gallery and fluttered out through a large hole
in the roof. All at once I caught sight of a stern, bearded face under
a crown of thorns looking down at me from over the window in which we
had been sitting. It was an immense crucifix leaning out from high up
under the rafters.
I was seized with dread. My companion’s eyes sparkled, and he held his
breath with curiosity and sympathy.
“Are you going any farther?” he asked in a low voice.
“Yes,” I answered in the same tone, summoning all my courage, but at
that instant something totally unexpected happened. First, we heard
the rattle of plaster falling in the gallery. Then something moved
overhead, stirring up clouds of dust, and a big grey mass flapped its
wings and rose to the hole in the roof. The chapel was darkened in a
moment. A huge old owl, frightened out of a dark corner by our noise,
hung poised for a moment in the aperture with outstretched wings, and
then sailed away.
A wave of shuddering fear passed over me.
“Pull me up!” I cried to my playmate, and seized the strap.
“Don’t be frightened!” he answered soothingly and prepared to pull me
up into the sunshine and the light of day.
But all at once I saw his face become distorted with alarm. He
screamed, jumped down from the window-sill, and vanished in an instant.
I instinctively looked behind me, and caught sight of a strange
apparition which filled me, however, more with surprise than terror.
The dark object that had been the subject of our dispute, and that had
first looked like a bucket, then like a hat, and then at last like
a kettle, suddenly flashed across my vision and vanished behind the
altar. All I could distinguish was the dim outline of a small, what
seemed to be a child’s, hand, beckoning the object into its hiding
place.
It would be hard to describe my sensations at that moment. They were
not painful, the feeling that overcame me could not even be called
fear. I seemed to be in another world. From somewhere, as if from the
world that I had left, there came to me, a few seconds later, the swift
frightened pattering of three pairs of children’s feet. This sound
soon died away, and I was left alone in that tomb-like place, in the
presence of an apparition inexplicable and strange.
Time ceased to exist for me, therefore I cannot say whether it was soon
or not before I was aware of suppressed whispering under the altar.
“Why doesn’t he climb up again?”
“You can see, he’s frightened.”
The first voice seemed to be that of a very little child, the second
might have belonged to a boy of my own age. I seemed to see, too, a
pair of black eyes shining through the chinks in the old altar.
“What’s he going to do now?” the whisper recommenced.
“Wait and see,” answered the older voice.
Something moved so violently under the altar that the structure
trembled, and a little figure emerged from underneath it.
It was a boy of nine, taller than I was, thin and slight as a reed.
He was dressed in a dirty shirt, and his hands were thrust into the
pockets of a pair of short, tight breeches. His black hair hung in
shaggy elf-locks over his dark, pensive eyes.
Although he was a stranger and had appeared on the scene in such an
unusual and unexpected manner, and although he was approaching me with
that infinitely provocative look with which boys always met each other
among our bazaars when they were preparing for a fight, I nevertheless
felt very much braver than I had before. My courage increased when
there appeared from under the altar, or rather from a trap-door in
the floor which was concealed by the altar, another grimy little face
framed in golden curls, and a pair of bright blue eyes fixed on me full
of childish curiosity.
I moved slightly away from the wall and also put my hands into my
pockets according to the rules of our bazaars. This was a sign that I
was not afraid of my adversary and even partly wished to hint at my
contempt for him.
We stood face to face, measuring each other with our eyes. Having
stared at me from head to foot, the boy asked:
“What are you doing here?”
“Nothing,” I answered. “What business is it of yours?”
My adversary jerked his shoulder as if he intended to take his hand out
of his pocket and strike me. I did not blink.
“I’ll show you!” he threatened.