The priest and the magistrate immediately crossed themselves thrice, and the latter gazed devoutly on a mural St. Peter, as if to invoke his help on this occasion.
"You seem to me a plucky lad, to venture to approach the Devil's Garden," said the Patrol-officer. "Will you guide me thither?"
The Wallach nodded, with a joyful look.
"In the name of St. Michael and all the Archangels I implore you, sir, not to go," interrupted the priest. "Of all who have visited the Devil's Garden, not one has ever been known to come back. A truly devout person would turn his back upon it. It is only this man's sinfulness that has led him thither."
Clement scratched his head.
"I don't go there for the pleasure of the thing," said he. "Not that I fear the name of the place, but because I object to scaling mountains. In my official capacity, however, I have no choice."
"Then at least stick a consecrated willow-twig in your cap," urged the anxious pastor, "or take with you a picture of St. Michael, that the devil may not come near you."
"Thank you, my brothers; but it would be much more to the point if you provided me with a pair of sandals, for I cannot go clambering over the mountains in these spurred boots. I regret too that your amulets are thrown away upon me, for I am a Unitarian."
The priest crossed himself once more, and said with a sigh—
"I fancied you were orthodox, because you were so zealous about the hags and witches."