"Dear women, dear little ones; take what is given you; take without fear; Jesus said: 'Woe unto the rich who share not their bread with those who hunger, and their cloak with those who are cold.' Your bishop gives you all these good things. Take all that is offered to you!"
"Blessings upon you, holy bishop!" exclaimed the mothers, raising their arms in thankfulness to Cautin. "Blessed be you, good father, for your generous gifts!"
"I give nothing!" cried Cautin. "You shall burn eternally in hell, if you listen to that apostate hermit!"
The larger number of the women looked undecided from Ronan to the bishop and the hermit. They put their hands forward and withdrew them again from the articles that were offered them. But two of the oldest of them resolutely drew away from the goods of the Church, and throwing themselves down upon their knees murmured affrighted:
"Holy Bishop Cautin! Pardon us for having even for a moment harbored the thought of committing so great a crime. Mercy! Mercy!"
"Fear not, my sisters!" resumed the hermit. "Your bishop gives you all these good things. He knows that the Lord has equal love for all his children, and does not wish that some should be naked and freeze, while others perspire under the useless weight of twenty gowns; that some should suffer hunger, while others are filled to repletion. Fear not that your bishop will either hunger or suffer cold; he has new and warm clothing on; he knows not what to do with so many robes; he can not drink all those pouches of wine; he can not eat up all these provisions! Take, take—the goods of a bishop are the property of the poor."
Most of the unhappy mothers, convinced by the words of the hermit, and also driven by the lash of their needs, began busily to transport the proffered goods of the Church into their huts, aided by their children. Only three elderly ones dared not to join; they remained on their knees and smote their breasts.
"Dear daughters in Christ! Persevere in your holy horror for sacrilege!" the bishop cried to the three kneeling women. "You will enter paradise and will hear the seraphim play on the harp before the Lord, while they sing His praises!"
"My Vagres!" again Ronan called out. "A rope! Let the hypocritical babbler be strung up high and dry! It is evident that he has made up his mind to hang!"
With a gesture the hermit arrested the anger of the Vagres and said: