THE DEMONS AND THE HEROES.
"Of heroes and demons?" cried Pantagruel, amazed.
"Yes, of heroes, who, after being great on earth and seeming to die there, come here to live another life, and to suffer, and to show themselves great for a final trial; and of demons who are given power to roam the forest at will, only to mock, and laugh, and lure, if they can, the heroes to sin."
"How do the demons lure the heroes to sin?"
"By trying to make them forget that to be good is the only way to be great."
"Do the heroes ever yield?"
"Yes, pilgrim, often, too often; and there is our great grief. If they once yield, they die at the moment of sinning, and there is neither storm at sea nor grief in the forest. We never can know when the bad heroes pass away. But ah! it is when the true heroes, who, though tempted, will not yield, die," and here Macrobius stretched out his hands towards the dark line of trees as though in prayer, "that we learn of it to our sorrow. Pilgrim!" he cried, while the tears, dry, like the tears old men shed, trickled down his withered cheeks into his white beard, "we were sure yesterday that we had lost another good hero."
"And what made thee sure, good Macrobius?"
"Because we noticed that a comet, which we had seen for three days before the storm, of a sudden grew dim, and that it shines no more. Then, yesterday, when the sea was at its worst, we could hear loud cries in the forest; feel tremblings in the earth under us; and in the air about us there were breathings and black clouds. Listen, now, the trees are calling some name, I know they are. I am old; my hearing is faint. Do you not hear voices?"