"I know; but Monsieur le Curé will forgive me." "No, no, you must not go; it has been prohibited." "I will see that the rural guard does not catch me. Please let me go; I will be back soon." "Well, go, then." Jacques put his pruning-knife in his pocket, threw a rope over his shoulder, and opened the door. A gust of wind thick with snow dashed him back and whirled through the room. "What a storm!" "Holy angels!" cried Marguerite; "it is the white deluge! Listen, little one: you are not warm enough. Open the old chest where your father's things are, and get his cloak,--the cloak he had on when they brought him home. Wrap it around you, and see that you do not take cold. One sick person in the house is enough." Jacques took the cloak, upon which a twig of blessed box had been laid. It was one of those great black and white cloaks of thick wool and goat-hair, with a small velvet collar and brass clasps. There was a gaping black rent in it, and here and there an ugly dark spot. It was very long for Jacques, so Marguerite pinned the edges up under the collar. When he was halfway out of the door she called out to him,-- "Jacques, if you pass the Trèves do not forget to say a prayer." V. Jacques started off at a brisk pace. There was not a human being to be seen anywhere. The fields were gloomy and desolate. The snow seemed to shoot along horizontally, so violently was it lashed by the north wind. On the high, frosted limb of a poplar a raven was croaking. Jacques stopped every now and again to knock off the snow which gathered and hardened on the soles of his wooden shoes. He was not cold, but he found his cloak very heavy. He had gone a long way and had reached the first undulations of the mountain, the edge of the forest, when he stopped petrified before the rural guard, who appeared suddenly at a turn in the road, imposing with his cocked hat, his sword, and the word "Law" glittering on his belt. This Father Monhache, who had been a sapper before he became a rural guard, was greatly dreaded in the land. He was the terror of the village boys, for whenever he found any of them stealing apples, shaking the plum-trees, or knocking down nuts, he swore at them terribly, and then led them by the ear to Monsieur le Maire, who sentenced the delinquents to a paternal spanking. Jacques was therefore aghast when he found himself face to face with this merciless representative of the authority. "Where are you going, Jacques, in this devil of a storm?" Jacques tried to concoct some story to explain his expedition; and before he had decided which would be the most effective, he caught himself saying simply,-- "I am going to the mountain, Father Monhache, to get some dead wood. We have none at home, and my mother is ill." The old guard dropped an oath and said in a voice which was by no means harsh,--