burned to death if the trees are set on fire by the lightning."
"Could we not leave our horses here, and try to gain on foot a place less exposed to danger?"
"We run a risk of tumbling into some quagmire. By the way the wind hits my face, I know that this ravine is of great extent. Let us remain where we are, and trust to Divine Providence."
I had exhausted all my expedients, and could find nothing to reply to those last words of Fray Serapio's, which were uttered in a truly mournful tone. Some moments passed. The storm was still at its height, and I could not shut my ears to its wild music. In the depths of the forests, a wail as of a thousand spirits came booming on the wind; torrents raged and dashed from rock to rock, the pines creaked like the masts of a vessel caught in a hard gale, and above our heads the wind whistled strangely among the leaves. During the temporary lulls of the tempest, we heard our companions, who, whether from ignorance or a wish to drown their sense of danger, were shouting and singing with all their might.
"Don't you think," said I to the monk, "that this gayety is somewhat out of place? I have a good mind to make them sensible of the danger they are running, to cause them to change their song for the 'De Profundis.'"
"What good would that do?" said the monk, gloomily. "Would it not be better for them to remain ignorant of their danger, and let death surprise them in their joyous thoughtlessness? At this moment, when the spirits of darkness are hovering about us, the human voice seems to bring with it an undefinable charm. I have not yet told you the story of Fray Epigmenio.
