his little house, and spent the money 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 Curé’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 Curé 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 bonjour or a bonsoir 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 Curé.
Pomfrette heard, and he drew himself together, his jaws shutting with ferocity, and his hand flying to the
