"Now, mayor, have my poor wife's coffin carried to the midst of the choir—she never did harm to anybody—and you, Pitou, collect the beadle, the choirboys and the chanters, while I bring the priest."
Several wished to follow Billet to Father Fortier's house.
"Let me go alone," said he: "maybe what I do is serious and I should bear my own burden."
This was the second time that the revolutionist had come into conflict with the son of the church, at a year's interval. Remembering what had happened before, a similar scene was anticipated.
The rectory door was sealed up like that of the church. Billet looked round for some beam to be used like the other, but there was nothing of the sort. The only thing was a stone post, a boundary mark, with which the children had played so long at "over-ing" that it was loose in the socket like an old tooth.
The farmer stepped up to it, shook it violently to enlarge its orbit, and tore it clean out. Then raising it like a Highlander "putting the stone," he hurled it at the door which flew into shivers.
At the same time as this breach was made, the upper window opened and Father Fortier appeared, calling on his parishioners with all the power of his lungs. But the voice of the pastor fell lost, as the flock did not care to interfere between him and the wolf.
It took Billet some time to break all the doors down between him and his prey, but in ten minutes, more or less, that was done.
At the end of that time, loud shrieks were heard and by the abbé's most expressive gestures it was to be surmised that the danger was drawing nearer and nearer him.