I was often in the habit of walking out in the evening after it was dark, to enjoy that sort of perfect solitude which I had never seen but there; but I always remarked, when I made my preparations to that effect, a degree of uneasiness come over the countenance of my host, which he seemed to seek some opportunity of expressing in words. At length he ventured to remonstrate. It was dangerous, he said,--it was wrong. My first question was of course directed to ascertain in what the danger consisted. He said it was tempting Providence. The sands were full of bad spirits, and Heaven knows what might happen if they found me wandering about there alone after the sun had set and the moon had risen. The remembrance of the Arabian siltrims immediately crossed my mind, and, perhaps, caused me to smile; and the old man shook his head sadly, saying, that he had too much cause to know that such fears were just. The English, he said, being all Protestants, which he supposed meant atheists, did not believe in spirits, and that I would only laugh at him if he were to tell me all that he knew; but nevertheless, there were things which had happened not far from that spot which would make me tremble if I heard them.
My curiosity was now excited, and, giving up my walk, I begged him to tell me to what he alluded.
In reply, he told me a variety of tales, some approaching probability, some simply extravagant. But that which struck me most was the following. I give it in his own words, noted down immediately after.
THE STORY OF THE BAD SPIRIT.
Many years ago I lived at Guizan, and gained my bread as a fisherman, like most of the other inhabitants of the place. I had been married about five years, and had one child, which was the most beautiful in all the village, and my wife and I doted upon it; for it was so sweet and good-tempered that it was scarcely ever known to cry, and would play about the cottage all day without ever troubling any one. It so happened, that being out one time in a storm, my wife vowed an offering to our Lady at Arcachon, in case of my safe return; so that the next time I went upon the Basin d'Arcachon, I took her and our little girl into the boat, and sailing along the shore, I landed them just where the forest opens, and one can see the chapel of Notre Dame, at the end of the long avenue of pines. While I sailed on upon the bason (for I was not going that day to the high seas,) my wife went up to the chapel, with my little girl running by her side; and when she went in to say her prayers, she left the child playing about in the wood hard by. However, on coming out again she could not find her little girl, and was looking all round, when she suddenly heard something cry in the wood. You may judge how quick she ran, but nevertheless she was just in time, for when she came up, there was poor little Donine, lying on the ground, with her eyes almost starting out of her head, as if she had been strangled. It was a long time before her mother could bring her to herself; but when she could speak, she said that a great woman in white had come out of the wood, and had coaxed her to go along with her, but that when she got her so far from the chapel, she caught her by the throat, and squeezed her so tight that she forgot everything else till she found herself in her mother's arms. As this was evidently one of the bad spirits, we were very anxious about it; for these evil beings, when once they have resolved the destruction of any one, never quit their purpose till it is accomplished. So we got a cross which had been blessed, and tied it round Donine's neck, and bade her never to take it off, for fear of the white woman. Well, while she was young, several times when she had been out for a moment or two, after night had fallen, she would run into the cottage all panting with fear, and crying out that she had seen the white woman. But, as she grew up, we left Guizan, and came to live here, and we had three or four other children, so that the matter was forgotten. When she was about sixteen, however, she fell in company with the son of the miller at the Croix de Bury; and as she had grown up as beautiful as she was when she was a child, he persuaded his friends to come and ask her in marriage, though they were somewhat against it at first, for we were poor and they were rich; but the matter was soon settled on our part, and they were promised to each other.
One evening, a week or two before they were to be married, they went out together to a wedding at La Mothe, and he was to see her safe home at night. While they were there (as he told us afterwards,) he saw the cross hanging round her neck, and as it was of a peculiar shape, he made her take it off to let him look at it; which she did willingly enough, thinking of nothing but her lover, and having long forgotten all about the woman; so that she did not remember to get it back again. They went on dancing till it was dark, and then came away together; but before they had gone far, she asked him for the cross, and he then remembered that he had left it behind. So he said that he would run back and fetch it in a minute, if she would wait there for him; but she, fearing nothing, said she would walk on, and he would soon overtake her. Accordingly, away he went, and got the cross from the house, and ran off as hard as he could to overtake Donine. As he came into the little wood between this and La Mothe, his heart seemed to misgive him, he said, and he thought he heard some one cry; so he ran the faster, to come up with her; but suddenly his foot struck against what he thought a bush, and he fell. As he did so, his hand touched something that was smooth and soft, like a woman's cheek, and looking near, he found that it was Donine, lying senseless in the path. He called to her, but she made no answer; and taking her up in his arms, he ran with her, like a madman, till he came to our door.
The old man's voice became troubled, and his wife had been weeping silently for some time. All that I could gather further was, that Donine was gone for ever, and that her lover, reproaching himself both for having taken away the cross, and for having left her in the wood, soon fell into consumption; to which the inhabitants of the Landes are particularly subject.
"My wife and I," added the old man, "had other children, whom we loved as well as poor Donine, but he, poor fellow, had only her, and he did not remain long behind. So that the bad spirit had two victims to satisfy her instead of one."