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In a trice without warning, the face of nature grew sullen. Black angry clouds swallowed up the sun. The air was dense with supressed excitement. The wind howled through the long corridors and sobbed and whispered in the secret recesses of the cells. The chime of the Vesper bell flowed into the infinite. The silver notes of the holy chant wrestled with the storm like ministering angels with Satan. At last the imps of Storm lay vanquished. The hurricane paused in it's course to do reverence to God. Suddenly, however a terrific clap of thunder smote the sky. The holy chime of the bell broke off with a shrill dissonance. Demons seemed to people the belfry. Rain came down like cataract flashes of lightning chased one another like battling fiery dragons. The bells jangled hieously out of tune. Unearthly noises like a satanic parody of the holy sound that marks the elevation of the host alarmed the ears of the horrified monks. Unspeakable blasphemies. Prayer with ceremony and interspersed midst of a sacred had suddenly gone mad. Trembling but resolute Father Ambrose seized a crucifix. In phalanx, if for battle, the brethren followed. Solemn, with gleaming eyes and trembling nostrils, the militant army of God swept up steep stairs mumbling the ritual of the exorsism. Infected somewhat by the general hysteria, Aubry followed...