A Blot on the Scutcheon

by Mabel Winifred Knowles

They caught Jean Floessel just by the great rock where three brave Breton soldiers lie buried, and where the fairies visit the dead on moonlit nights and talk to them. Yes, they caught him there, and he had not even time to cry "Vive la nation!" ...

Those two were happier as they walked home together, leaving behind them a limp and hideous thing, face downwards amongst the heather.

But many wept that night in Kérnak as they whispered Père Mouet's name in their prayers.

CHAPTER XXXII

"MICHAEL! MICHAEL!"

They were alone.

Those three helpless women standing together under the shadow of the Calvary beside their dead. The crowd had gone. Some in pursuit of Floessel, others drifting away, shamed and frightened, as you have seen whipped curs creep back to their kennels.

Here and there a woman had stolen near to the little group, sobbing out a petition for pardon; but most of them had gone silently, with doubt and fear in their hearts.

Père Mouet had bidden them return to their homes, and, at this moment, Père Mouet's commands were powerful.