But the result was fatal; the example might become infectious--people were strongly inclined towards Voltairism in 1830. The bishop was seized with great anger and, still more, with holy terror. What would happen if all the flock followed the footsteps of the erring sheep? The bishop would be left by himself alone, and his episcopal crook would become useless. A _Roman_ priest must at once be supplied to the parish of Lèves, who could combat the _French_ curé with whom it had provided itself. The news of this decision reached the Lévois, who again assembled together and vowed to hang the priest, no matter who he was, who should come forward to enter upon the reversion of the office of the Abbé Ledru. An event soon happened which afforded the bishop tip opportunity of putting his plan into execution, and for the Lievois to keep their vow. A Lèves peasant died. This peasant, in spite-of M. de Montal's declaration, had, before he died, asked for the presence of a Catholic priest, which consolation had been refused him; but, as he was not yet buried, the bishop decided that, as compensation, he should be interred with the full rites of the Latin Church. This happened on Monday, 13 March 1833. On the 14th, Monseigneur, the Bishop of Chartres, despatched to Lèves a curate of his cathedral named the Abbé Duval. The choice was a good one and suitable under the circumstances. The Abbé Duval was by no means one of that timid class of men who are soon made anxious and frightened by the least thing; he was, on the contrary, a man of energetic character with a fine carriage, whose tall figure was quite as well adapted to the wearing of the cuirass of a carabinier as of a priest's cassock. So the Abbé Duval started on his journey. He was not in entire ignorance of the dangers he was about to incur; but he was unconscious of the fact that no missionary entering any Chinese or Thibetan town had ever been so near to martyrdom. The report of the Roman priest's arrival soon spread through the village of Lèves. Everybody at once retired into his house and shut his doors and windows. The poor abbé might at first have imagined that he had been given the cure of a city of the dead like Herculaneum or Pompeii. But, when he reached the centre of the village, he saw that all the doors opened surreptitiously and the windows were slily raised a little; and in a minute he and the mayor, who accompanied him, were surrounded by about thirty peasants who called upon him to go back. We must do the mayor and abbé the justice to say that they tried to offer resistance; but, at the end of a quarter of an hour, the cries became so furious and the threats so terrible, that the mayor took the advantage of being within reach of his house to slink away and shut the door behind him, abandoning the Abbé Duval to his unhappy fate. It was extremely mean on the part of the mayor, but what can one expect! Every magistrate is not