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Davis, Rebecca Harding, 1831-1910

"Frances Waldeaux"

It is a great mystery."
"It is the one place in the world, people say,"
interrupted Selo, lowering his voice, "where God never
has been. A dreadful place, madame!"
Frances laughed. "That is the place for me," she said to
Selo. "Take me there."
The old man looked at her with shrewd, friendly eyes, and
then beckoned Bauzy aside.
"Who is she? She has the bearing of a great lady, but
her face hurts me. What harm has come to her?"
"How do I know?" said Bauzy. "Go for your boat. The sea
is rising."

Late in the afternoon M. Selo landed his strange
passenger upon the pebbly beach of the accursed island.
He led her up on the rocks, talking, and pointing across
the sea.
"Beyond is the Atlantic, and on yonder headland are the
great menhirs of Carnac--thirty thousand of them, brought
there before Christ was born. But the Evil One loves
this island best of all places. It has in it the mystery
of the world. Come," he said, in an awed voice. "It is
here."
He crossed to the hill, stooped, and entered a dark cave
about forty feet long, which was wholly lined with huge
flat rocks carved with countless writhing serpents. As
Frances passed they seemed to stir and breathe beside
her, at her feet, overhead. The cave opened into a
sacrificial chamber. The reptiles grew gigantic here,
and crowded closer. Through some rift a beam of
melancholy light crept in; a smell of death hung in the
thick, unclean air.
Selo pointed to a stone altar.


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