g
on, they multiply, they live in spite of everything. Nothing short of
fire from heaven, as at Gomorrha, will clear it all away.'

'We should never despair of sinners,' said Abbe Mouret, all inward
peacefulness, as he leisurely walked on.

'But these are the devil's own,' broke in the Brother still more
violently. 'I've been a peasant, too. Up to eighteen I dug the earth;
and later on, when I was at the Training College, I had to sweep, pare
vegetables, do all the heavy work. It's not their toilsome labour I find
fault with. On the contrary, for God prefers the lowly. But the Artauds
live like beasts! They are like their dogs, they never attend mass, and
make a mock of the commandments of God and of the Church. They think of
nothing but their plots of lands, so sweet they are on them!'

Voriau, his tail wagging, kept stopping and moving on again as soon as
he saw that they still followed him.

'There certainly are some grievous things going on,' said Abbe Mouret.
'My predecessor, Abbe Caffin--'

'A poor specimen,' interrupted the Brother. 'He came here to us from
Normandy owing to some disreputable affair. Once here, his sole thought
was good living; he let everything go to rack and ruin.'

'Oh, no, Abbe Caffin certainly did what he could; but I must own
that his efforts were all but barren in results. My own are mostly
fruitless.'

Brother Archangias shrugged his shoulders. He walked on for a minute
in silence, swaying his tall bony frame, which looked as if it had
been roughly fashioned with a hatchet. The sun beat down upon his neck,
shadowing his hard, sword-edged peasant's face.

'Listen to me, Monsieur le Cure,' he said at last. 'I am too much
beneath you to lecture you; but still, I am almost double your age, I
know this part, and therefore I feel justified in telling you that you
will gain nothing by gentleness. The catechism, understand, is enough.
God has no mercy on the wicked. He burns them. Stick to that.'

Then, as Abbe Mouret, whose head remained bowed, did not open his mouth,
he went on: 'Religion is leaving the country districts because it
is made over indulgent. It was respected when it spoke out like an
unforgiving mistress. I really don't know what they can teach you now
in the seminaries. The new priests weep like children with their
parishioners. God no longer seems the same. I dare say, Monsieur le
Cure, that you don't even know your catechism by heart now?'

But the priest, wounded b