my heart a little, and I turned homeward when this faint daylight
appeared. When I got back into the street, I found that the people at
last were stirring. They had all a look of half panic, half shame upon
their faces. Many were yawning and stretching themselves. 'Good morning,
M. le Maire,' said one and another; 'you are early astir.' 'Not so early
either,' I said; and then they added, almost every individual, with a
look of shame, 'We were so late this morning; we overslept
ourselves--like yesterday. The weather is extraordinary.' This was
repeated to me by all kinds of people. They were half frightened, and
they were ashamed. Père Laserques was sitting moaning on the Cathedral
steps. Such a thing had never happened before. He had not rung the bell
for early mass; he had not opened the Cathedral; he had not called M. le
Curé. 'I think I must be going out of my senses,' he said; 'but then, M.
le Maire, the weather! Did anyone ever see such weather? I think there
must be some evil brewing. It is not for nothing that the seasons
change--that winter comes in the midst of summer.'

After this I went home. My mother came running to one door when I
entered, and my wife to another. '_O mon fils!_' and '_O mon ami!_' they
said, rushing upon me. They wept, these dear women. I could not at first
prevail upon them to tell me what was the matter. At last they confessed
that they believed something to have happened to me, in punishment for
the wrong done to the Sisters at the hospital. 'Make haste, my son, to
amend this error,' my mother cried, 'lest a worse thing befall us!' And
then I discovered that among the women, and among many of the poor
people, it had come to be believed that the darkness was a curse upon us
for what we had done in respect to the hospital. This roused me to
indignation. 'If they think I am to be driven from my duty by their
magic,' I cried; 'it is no better than witchcraft!' not that I believed
for a moment that it was they who had done it. My wife wept, and my