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But they moved not, nor even seemed to hear him: it appeared to

him, however, that some one amongst them, with his elbow, pressed

his left side near his heart, where he felt a painful pricking.

Trying to withdraw himself from so irksome a situation, he

experienced a recurrence of the sensation. Irritated beyond

measure, he stretched out his hand for his sword, and, behold, it

had glided the whole length of his body, and the hilt of it was

pressing him in this very place. Vainly did he endeavour to

remove it, every effort only increased his agonies. Agitated and

out of breath, he again cried aloud; at the sound, all those wild

and hideous phantoms rushed to one side of the church, leaving

the pulpit exposed to view, in which stood, with his venerable

countenance, his bald head and white beard, Father Christopher.