"It might impress the people more, if the best woman in your parish were
to play the part. The fall of virtue, the ruin of innocence, would be
vividly brought home. It does good to make the innocent feel the terror
and shame of sin. That is the price the good pay for the fall of man--
sorrow and shame for those who sin." The Seigneur, rising quickly from
the table, and kicking his chair back, said angrily: "Damn your
theories!" Then, seeing the frozen look on his brother's face,
continued, more excitedly: "Yes, damn, damn, damn your theories! You
always took the crass view. I beg your pardon, Cure--I beg your pardon."

He then went to the window, threw it open, and called to his groom.

"Hi, there, coffin-face," he said, "bring round the horses--the quietest
one in the stable for my brother--you hear? He can't ride," he added
maliciously.

This was his fiercest stroke, for the Abbe's secret vanity was the belief
that he looked well on a horse, and rode handsomely.




CHAPTER LV

ROSALIE PLAYS A PART

From a tree upon a little hill rang out a bell--a deep-toned bell, bought
by the parish years before for the missions held at this very spot.
Every day it rang for an instant at the beginning of each of the five