The Interference of the Jesuit

As the torches, uplifted, gleamed brighter upon the motionless Queen, they revealed a look of perplexity, almost fear, in her cold eyes. What held her speechless? Was it remembrance of another life, when the stern word of the Church had been law? or was she merely troubled by so mysterious an appearance, her guilty soul swayed by superstitious terror? She was all too strange a riddle for my reading, but some occult power held her helpless, silent. The vengeful cries of her savage followers died away into threatening murmurs; the père remained motionless, one hand on Eloise's bowed head, his white face shadowed by the hood, calmly fronting her who had commanded quiet. Slowly he lifted one arm, the loose sleeve lending dignity and power to the simple gesture, his white extended hand seeming to have in it the authority of command. A moment, heedless of the scowling, painted faces all about, the slight figure stood erect and firm, the dark eyes bearing witness to his earnestness, and never wavering from Naladi's scornful face.

"Woman," he said calmly, even as I imagine Christ may have spoken of old, "release this prisoner, and make thy peace with God."

She endeavored to laugh mockingly, yet only a hollow semblance came from between her white lips. "Pah!" she cried nervously, "you speak bravely; pray, who gave you authority to give orders to the Daughter of the Sun?"

"One greater than the Sun, woman," he answered. "I speak to you in the name of Jesus of Nazareth, and by authority of the Holy Catholic Church."