insects from their own fields to your orchard and cellar!"
Chamaille sprang to his feet. "To think of those fiends! Sending locusts to eat up my fruit! How dare they even think of such a thing! St. Simon, have mercy on your poor vicar!"
We could not help laughing, and tried our best to calm him, but it was of no use.
"It is all very well!" he cried, "but you would laugh on the other side of your mouths if you were in my shoes; I suppose I must go and get my storeroom ready for these guests! Locusts! How revolting! And mice! It is enough to drive one crazy!"
I tried to persuade him that he could easily get the better of his parishioners and advised him to try some strong counter exorcism, but nothing could console him.
"I am lost!" he cried, wringing his hands. "Picq is terribly clever and sharp; the Lord alone knows what will come of it. I shall have to give in. To think how happy and comfortable I was just a minute ago! Ah! my dear friends, it is all up with me. Run, Louisa; run, and tell them to stop; say I am coming as fast as I can. Beasts that they are! Just let them wait till the next time they are dying and send for me! Well, the will of the Lord be
