her dark
eyes flash as she met the steady gaze of the cure's.

"In the name of the _Republique Francaise_," began the mayor in measured
tones.

The cure folded his arms, his eyes fixed on the open door.

"Pardon me," interrupted Alice, "I wish it to be distinctly understood
before you begin, Monsieur le Maire, that I am here wholly against my
will."

The cure turned sharply.

"You have summoned me," continued Alice, "and there was no alternative
but to come--I know nothing in detail concerning the charge against
Monsieur le Cure, nor do I wish to take any part whatever in this
unfortunate affair. It is imperative that I return to Paris in time to
play to-night, I beg of you that you will let me go at once."

There was a polite murmur of surprise from the Municipal Council. The
cure sprang to his feet.

"Alice, my child!" he cried, "look at me."

Her eyes met his own, her lips twitching nervously, her breast heaving.

"I wish _you_ to judge me before you go," he pleaded. "They accuse me of
being a thief;" his voice rose suddenly to its full vibrant strength;
"they do not know the truth."

Alice leaned forward, her lips parted.

"God only knows what this winter has been," declared his
reverence--"Empty nets--always empty nets."

He struck the table with his clenched fist. "Empty nets!" he cried,
"until I could bear it no longer. My children were in dire need; they
came to you," he declared, turning to the mayor, "and you refused them."

The mayor shrugged his shoulders with a grunt of resentment.

"I gave what I could, while it lasted, from the public fund," he
explained frankly; "there were new roads to be cut."

"Roads!" shouted the cure. "What are roads in comparison to illness and
starvation? They came to me," he went on, turning to Alice, "little
children--mothers, ill, with little children and not a sou in the house,
and none to be earned fishing. Old men crying for bread for those whom
they loved. I grew to hate the very thought of the bells; they seemed to
me a needless luxury among so much misery."

His voice rose until it rang clear in the room.

"I gave it to them," he cried out. "There in my little drawer lay the
power to save those who were near death from sickness, from dirt, from
privation!"

Alice's ringless white hands were clenched in her lap.

"And I saw, as I gave," continued the cure, "the end of pain and of
hunger--little by little I gave, hoping somehow to replace it, until I