of those who had given themselves to eternal service? Monsieur had
spoken terrible things. And yet he had said at the last: "It is not vows
that keep the world right, but the prayer of a man's soul from day to
day." That was not heretical, or atheistic, or blasphemous. It sounded
logical and true and good.

He was about to say that, to some people, vows were the only way of
keeping them to their duty--and especially women--but the Judge added
gently: "I would not for the world hurt your sensibilities, my little
Clerk, and we are not nearly so far apart as you think at the minute.
Thank God, I keep the faith that is behind all faith--the speech of a
man's soul with God. . . . But there, if you can, let us hear what
man it is who disturbs the home of the philosopher. It is not my Fille,
that's sure."

He could not resist teasing, this judge who had a mind of the most rare
uprightness; and he was not always sorry when his teasing hurt; for, to
his mind, men should be lashed into strength, when they drooped over the
tasks of life; and what so sharp a lash as ridicule or satire!

"Proceed, my friend," he urged brusquely, not waiting for the gasp of
pained surprise of the little Clerk to end. He was glad to see the
figure beside him presently straighten itself, as though to be braced for
a task of difficulty. Indignation and resentment were good things to
stiffen a man's back.

"It was three days ago," said M. Fille. "I saw it with my own eyes.
I had come to the Manor Cartier by the road, down the hill--Mont Violet--
behind the house. I could see into the windows of the house. There was
no reason why I should not see--there never has been a reason," he added,