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284 their seats. At length, “I do not know,” Lescot muttered timidly.

“You do not know?”

“What can be done!”

“The people will know!” Father Pezelay retorted “Trust them!”

“But the people will not rise without a leader.”

“Then will I lead them!”

“Even so, reverend Father—I doubt,” Lescot faltered. And Thuriot nodded assent. Gibbets were erected in those days rather for laymen than for the Church.

“You doubt!” the priest cried. “You doubt!” His baleful eyes passed from one to the other; from them to the rest of the company. He saw that with the exception of the Curé of St.-Benoist all were of a mind. “You doubt! Nay, but I see what it is! It is this,” he continued slowly and in a different tone, “the King’s will goes for nothing in Angers! His writ runs not here. And Holy Church cries in vain for help against the oppressor. I tell you, the sorceress who has bewitched him has bewitched you also. Beware! beware, therefore, lest it be with you as with him! And the fire that shall consume her, spare not your houses!”

The two citizens crossed themselves, grew pale and shuddered. The fear of witchcraft was great in Angers, the peril, if accused of it, enormous. Even the Canons looked startled.

“If—if my brother were here,” the Archdeacon repeated feebly, “something might be done!”

“Vain is the help of man!” the priest retorted sternly, and with a gesture of sublime dismissal. “I turn from you to a mightier than you!” And, leaning his head on his hands, he covered his face.

The Archdeacon and the churchmen looked at him, and from him their scared eyes passed to one another. Their