It was now nearly half burned down, but was still a
large, glowing mass, at least five feet high, and not less than eighteen
in diameter at the base. On arriving there they all looked on in
silence, appalled by its great size, and altogether deterred from so
formidable an attempt.
It would be death to try it, they exclaimed; no living man could do it;
an opinion which was universally acceded to, with one single exception.
A thin man, rather above the middle size, dressed in a long, black coat,
black breeches, and black stockings, constituted that exception. There
was something peculiar, and even strikingly mysterious, in his whole
appearance. His complexion was pale as that of a corpse, his eyes dead
and glassy, and the muscles of his face seemed as if they were paralyzed
and could not move. His right hand was thrust in his bosom, and! over
his left arm he bore some dark garment of a very funereal cast, almost
reminding one of a mortcloth.
"There is one," said he, in a hollow and sepulchral voice, "that could
do it." Father Magauran, who was present, looked at him with surprise;
as indeed did every one who had got an opportunity of seeing him.
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