smitten the heathen. And now the flame was swayed
by a wind that had suddenly started to blow from the
desert, from the desolate river bed of La Crau; in it
blew through the cracks and chinks of the windows.
Light and shade moved alternately across the carved
face giving it a startlingly lifelike expression, so that
Christophe felt certain his prayer had been heard:
'All goes well/ he told himself confidently, 'it looks
as though our good patron were smiling.5