So she built a shrine. For a few days she was fascinated by the place, exploring the moldy rooms, the weird treasures hiding in forgotten trousseaus. Instead, God had sent her Sebastianus, a man who had sold his soul to the Devil to gain eternal life, or perhaps he was even the Devil himself. The passion of pent-up speech compelled action of some sort. And yet, as she rose slowly to her feet and stood looking at him with outstretched hands, a strange mixture of expressions shining in her wonderful eyes, he realized in some measure the strength of her determination, felt the utter impotence of anything which he could say to her.
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