But when all was done, Demdike motioned to a man standing behind him to advance, and the person who was wrapped in a russet cloak complied, drew forth an infant, and held it in such way that the abbot could see it.

Paslew understood what was meant, but he uttered not a word.

Demdike then knelt down beside him, as if ascertaining the security of the cords, and whispered in his ear:-- "Recall thy malediction, and my dagger shall save thee from the last indignity." "Never," replied Paslew; "the curse is irrevocable.

But I would not recall it if I could.

As I have said, thy child shall be a witch, and the mother of witches--but all shall be swept off--all!" "Hell's torments seize thee!" cried the wizard, furiously.
"Nay, thou hast done thy worst to me," rejoined Paslew, meekly, "thou canst not harm me beyond the grave.