The Pardon is not held at Treguier, nor at Minihy, but on the other side of the Jaudy, upon a hill near Porz-Bihan. Here, in former times, stood a chapel, now in ruins; only the ossuary is left, in which may still be found an image of the great Saint, very old, very crudely fashioned, but supremely interesting by reason of the veneration with which it is regarded by the peasants. The Quinneys watched the pilgrims coming and going in a never-ending procession. Each offered prayers and oblations in copper to the Saint, who stared down upon them with that vague, impersonal regard which would seem to indicate indifference or lassitude. Upon an altar were ranged other saints, rude images of painted wood, saints never canonized, and looking as if they resented the unique honour paid to Yves le Véridique. Many of the pilgrims muttered some formula in Breton, which afterwards Mademoiselle Yannik translated for Susan. It ran: "If theirs be the right, condemn us. If ours be the right, condemn them." For this is the patron saint of lawyers, and of the poor oppressed by the law. The procession of _Misérables_ followed. An Englishman told the tale of the Miracle of the Soup to Susan. He described vividly a farm hard by filled with outcasts upon the eve of the Pardon. And so bitter had been the weather that the farmer had made small provision for his guests, assured that only a few would demand his hospitality. The _pot-au-feu_ hung upon its hook, but there was hardly soup enough in it to feed half a dozen, and scores were arriving. And then suddenly a stranger appeared, approached the hearth, and affirmed that there would be enough for all. Having said this, he vanished, and, lo, a miracle! The crowds were abundantly fed. The stranger was the Saint himself, the blessed Yves. Susan was thrilled, but Joe whispered to her, "Do you believe that yarn, Sue?" and she whispered back, "Yes." He squeezed her arm as he replied, "Lawsy, you are a blessed little fool!" But the great impression remained of poverty and pain parading before a comparatively prosperous and healthy crowd, who regarded the unfortunate with kindly and compassionate eyes. Susan was melted to tears, but Joe said emphatically: "What do you make of this show?" She replied hesitatingly, "They recognize that the poor must be always with them." Joe persisted. "How does this apply to you and me?" "We must help when we can, dear." "We have to help, Sue. Rates and taxes. By Gum, I’ve never seen such a lot of wretched devils in all my life. And the sight o’ their misery just hits a particular nail of mine bang on the head. Drives it home, like. Me and you must never be poor. We must pull together against the remotest chance o’ poverty." "They can’t help it, Joe." "Perhaps not, but we can." They returned in a chastened mood to the excellent dinner provided at the inn. *IV*