58 OVER ON THE ISLAND

stars are coursing. The hours speed. Make haste, ’tis time, come, let’s flee.”

“Almost she won him over, but at the last minute, he remembered his duty and fled.

“On the following day Marie was burned. And every flame that shot around her body seared the very soul of the one who could have saved her. Every eye was riveted on the stake. Marie stood awaiting her torment like a dazed bird fluttering on the deep ocean. Her lips trembled like aspen leaves. Her eyes wandered from place to place and searched those of Medardus. He approached with the crucifix. She nodded. A beautiful smile spread over her features.

“In the burning pile she sang. The song’s joyful sweet melody sounded to me like the rustle of the springtime showers falling in the night. It seems as though the air from foreign climes came laden with ensnaring fragrance. I heard in my ears a voice that told of bliss and joys for ever lost. The flames reached her naked form but the weird song pierced through the flames. Crackling the fires leaped on high. Like tremulous bells resounded her song

“Medardus fled from the place, unable to stand it any longer. But whenever and wherever he went, asleep, or at prayer, the song went with him. Fifty years later as he lay dying, it still rang in his ears. ‘A voice it is from Paradise. Again she calls me to the bliss I wantonly lost.’ Again Medardus began to sing the strange song.

“‘I hear you. I am ready for you, woman most true and guiltless. A witch they proclaimed you. I see your sweet body which they basely burned, your eyes of kindly affection, your graceful limbs in beauty welling, I see anew the heavenly bliss once tendering