Honor had looked up with such evident inquiry in her eyes that the boy stopped.
“I didn’t mean to interrupt,” she said, “I only wondered--what is the curse, Zitli?”
Atli and Gretli were too polite to look their astonishment, but Zitli was younger; besides, he was a story-teller.
“Mademoiselle does not know?” he cried. “In America, one is ignorant of that? _Tenez_, that is something of the remarkable. That mountain, mademoiselle, is accursed and has ever been so. After the death of the Saviour of Mankind--” the three crossed themselves devoutly--“Pontius Pilatus, the wicked Governor of Jerusalem, found himself so ill at ease because of the sin and remorse that was in him that he took flight from the Holy Land, and tried to hide himself, now here, now there. But everywhere he was driven out with maledictions, until he came to our beloved country, where, do you see, there were not many people in those days, and all honest Christians attending to their own affairs and minding their flocks and herds as Christians should. So no one saw that accursed one, and he took refuge on that mountain and there he has been ever since. He cannot die, because neither Heaven nor Hell will receive him. He wanders about the mountain, and wherever he goes the green herb withers and the leaves of the trees shrivel and drop off. The mountain groans and would fain be rid of him. Now it lets fall an avalanche, hoping to bury him fathoms deep and so make an end; but the snow falls away from him on either side and leaves him bare. Now it gathers a thunderstorm and tries to strike him dead with lightning bolts, but all in vain; he opens his breast, inviting death; the bolt turns aside and will not touch him. Often has he tried to drown himself in the gloomy lake on the top of the mountain, but the waves rise and cast him on shore. So he lives, accursed of God and man.”
“It is an ancient legend!” said Atli quietly. “What would you? In the course of centuries, many things come to be believed. It is certain that Pilatus is a stormy mountain, but that may come from many causes.”
“But when people have seen him!” cried Zitli, his blue eyes flashing. “When he is seen by mortal men, my brother!”
“Ah! if he is seen, that is another matter. Hast thou seen him, for example, my little one?”