“And the sucking child shall play on the hole of the asp, and the weaned child shall put his hand on the cockatrice’s den; they shall not hurt nor destroy in all my holy mountain.”
But Jerome only told himself that Satan could wrest Scripture as fairly as an angel; then fortified against temptation he touched Agnes.
“Awake!”
The heavy eyes opened, stared around.
“Ah! but the shadows are long! It grows dark,” said she all wondering, whilst Harun rose and shook his coat free of the pine-needles.
“Yes, you must have slept soundly. It is time to eat;” and Jerome busied himself about the supper,—more trout, bread, cheese, and the remnants of the partridge. He studiously refrained from glances at Agnes, and never spoke save as he must. When the meal ended, Agnes held her pretty head first this way, then that, and followed with a statement.
“I met a woman by the brook.”
“A woman? of what kind?”
“A fat little woman all in black, with two big blacker ravens.”
Jerome frowned. “Then you have met Witch Martha. She has commerce with the Father of Lies; shun her carefully or you can never go to heaven.”