mon people, a movement half religious in nature, came
to disturb France. A strange man, of wonderful eloquence, and exercising
a powerful influence upon the peasantry, made his appearance in northern
France. In a few weeks he had gathered veritable armies of the peasants,
the _pastoureaux_, as they were called, who marched about the country
after their mysterious leader, known only by the name of "the Master of
Hungary," proclaiming that they would go to the aid of their good king.
At first they committed no damage, but, growing bolder and becoming
contaminated by a certain mixture of the more dangerous elements of the
population, they began to manifest a peculiar unfriendliness toward
priests, and soon passed to actual acts of violence. The Master of
Hungary arrogated to himself powers almost miraculous, and the people
believed in him. At Amiens, the first large town entered by the
Pastoureaux, people sought out this man and knelt before him as if he
had been a holy personage. But the priests circulated all sorts of
stories about him: he was a magician in league with the devil; he was an
apostate Christian, an infidel, nay, an emissary of the sultan of Egypt,
charged with delivering into the hands of the Saracens a host of
Christian prisoners. But, impostor or no impostor, the people had faith
in him, and it was in vain for the priests to repeat or to concoct tales
of his being an infidel: the very people of the most Christian nation in
Europe were sullenly murmuring against Christ Himself. When the begging
friars asked for alms the people snarled a refusal at them and, calling
the first poor person in sight, gave alms, saying: "Take that; in the
name of Mohammed, who is greater than Christ."

The Master of Hungary and his satellites, preaching against the clergy
and inciting to acts of violence, performing all the functions of
priests and even claiming to perform miracles, advanced with their
hordes of ignorant or vicious followers to Paris. What attitude would
Blanche take? She had always had a heart to feel for the woes of the
common people, and she well knew that the priests were not by any means
always the friends of the poor, for she was not so blinded by
religiosity as to think that the clerical habit alone could make a mere
man something more than a man. At this particular time, too, she had
reason to feel vexed with the clergy; was it not the Church itself that
was most niggardly of funds to carry on the war in