ey in drink. Not a cent
for a candle, but--"

"It's a lie," cried Pomfrette, shaking with rage from head to foot.

A long horror-stricken "Ah!" broke from the crowd. The Cure's face
became graver and colder.

"You have a bad heart," he answered, "and you give Pontiac an evil name.
I command you to come to Mass next Sunday, to repent and to hear your
penance given from the altar. For until--"

"I'll go to no Mass till I'm carried to it," was the sullen, malevolent
interruption.

The Cure turned upon the people.

"This is a blasphemer, an evil-hearted, shameless man," he said. "Until
he repents humbly, and bows his vicious spirit to holy Church, and his
heart to the mercy of God, I command you to avoid him as you would a
plague. I command that no door be opened to him; that no one offer
him comfort or friendship; that not even a bon jour or a bon soir pass
between you. He has blasphemed against our Father in heaven; to the
Church he is a leper." He turned to Pomfrette. "I pray God that you have
no peace in mind or body till your evil life is changed, and your black
heart is broken by sorrow and repentance."

Then to the people he said again: "I have commanded you for your
souls' sake; see that you obey. Go to your homes. Let us leave the
leper--alone." He waved the awed crowd back.

"Shall we take off the little bell?" asked Lajeunesse of the Cure.

Pomfrette heard, and he drew himself together, his jaws shutting
with ferocity, and his hand flying to the belt where his voyageur's
case-knife hung. The Cure did not see this. Without turning his head
towards Pomfrette, he said:

"I have commanded you, my children. Leave the leper alone."

Again he waved the crowd to be gone, and they scattered, whispering to
each other; for nothing like this had ever occurred in Pontiac before,
nor had they ever seen the Cure with this granite look in his face, or
heard his voice so bitterly hard.

He did not move until he had seen them all started homewards from the
Four Corners. One person remained beside him--Parpon the dwarf.

"I will not obey you, M'sieu' le Cure," said he. "I'll forgive him
before he repents."

"You will share his sin," answered the Cure sternly. "No; his
punishment, M'sieu'," said the dwarf; and turning on his heel, he
trotted to where Pomfrette stood alone in the middle of the road, a
dark, morose figure, hatred and a wild trouble in his face.

Already banishment, isolation, seemed to possess Pomfr