, 'you know all that I
know.'

'Yes, M. le Maire, it is so, sure enough. I do not doubt it. If it were
the Prussians, a man could fight. But _ces Messieurs la!_ What I want to
know is: is it because of what you did to those little Sisters, those
good little ladies of St. Jean?'

'What I did? You were yourself one of the complainants. You were of
those who said, when a man is ill, when he is suffering, they torment
him with their mass; it is quiet he wants, not their mass. These were
thy words, _vaurien_. And now you say it was I!'

'True, M. le Maire,' said Jacques; 'but look you, when a man is better,
when he has just got well, when he feels he is safe, then you should not
take what he says for gospel. It would be strange if one had a new
illness just when one is getting well of the old; and one feels now is
the time to enjoy one's self, to kick up one's heels a little, while at
least there is not likely to be much of a watch kept _up there_--the
saints forgive me,' cried Jacques, trembling and crossing himself, 'if I
speak with levity at such a moment! And the little ladies were very
kind. It was wrong to close their chapel, M. le Maire. From that comes
all our trouble.'

'You good-for-nothing!' I cried, 'it is you and such as you that are the
beginning of our trouble. You thought there was no watch kept _up
there_; you thought God would not take the trouble to punish you; you
went about the streets of Semur tossing a _grosse piece_ of a hundred
sous, and calling out, "There is no God--this is my god; _l'argent,
c'est le bon Dieu_."'

'M. le Maire, M. le Maire, be silent, I implore you! It is enough to
bring down a judgment upon us.'

'It has brought down a judgment upon us. Go thou and try what thy
_grosse piece_ will do for thee now--worship thy god. Go, I tell you,
and get help from your money.'

'I have no money, M. le Maire, and what could money do here? We would do
much better to promise a large candle for the next festival, and that
the ladies of St. Jean--'

'Get away with thee to the end of the world, thou and thy ladies of St.
Jean!' I cried; which was wrong, I do not deny it, for they are good
women, not like this good-for-nothing fellow. And to think that this
man, whom I despise, was more pleasant to me than the dear souls who
loved me! Shame came upon me at the thought. I too, then, was like the
others, fearing the Unseen--capable of understanding only that which was
palpable. When Jacques slu