he paid no attention to them at all except when they attacked him
under his soutane; then he struck convulsively at the spot.

"God sends us such trials to brighten our crown," he said
comfortingly. "I have seen white men dead from the _nonos_. They
were not here in the old days, but since the jungle has overrun us
because of depopulation, they are frightful. During the mass, when
the priest cannot defend himself, they are worst, as if sent by the
devil who hates the holy sacrifice. But, _mon vieux_, you were
asking about those signs. _Alors_, I will give the facts to you, and
you can judge."

He poured me a goblet of the wine; I removed my cotton coat, covered
my hands with it, against the gadflies, and prepared to listen.

"Seven years before the great anniversary," said Père Simeon,
sipping his wine, "I thought out my plan. There would be masses,
vespers, benedictions, litanies, and choirs. But my mind was set
upon a representation of the Maid as she rode into Rheims to crown
the king after her victories. She was, you will remember, clothed
all in white armor and rode a white horse, both the emblems of purity.
That was the note I would sound, for I believe too much had been
made of Joan the warrior, Joan the heroine, and not enough of Joan
the saint. Oh, _Monsieur_, there have been evil forces at work there!"

He clasped his thigh with both hands and groaned, and I knew that
though a _nono_ had bitten him there, his anguish was more of soul
than body. I lighted his cigarette, as he proceeded:

"Two things were needful above all; a handsome white horse and a