I looked at Max Fortin, who immediately avoided my eyes.
"You are a pair of superstitious old women," said I, digging my hands into my pockets; "you swallow every nursery tale that is invented."
"What of it?" said Le Bihan sulkily; "there's more truth than lies in most of 'em."
"Oh!" I sneered, "does the Mayor of St. Gildas and St. Julien believe in the Loup-garou?"
"No, not in the Loup-garou."
"In what, then—Jeanne-la-Flamme?"
"That," said Le Bihan with conviction, "is history."
"The devil it is!" said I; "and perhaps, monsieur the mayor, your faith in giants is unimpaired?"
"There were giants—everybody knows it," growled Max Fortin.
"And you a chemist!" I observed scornfully.