"Little mother, you are borrowing trouble. Is not our Lord at Granville as well as here, and can he not take care of our son? I trust he will be betrayed into no rashness; though the idle curiosity of a child has taken him in the way of danger." "But, Father Simon, will God take care of David now that he has been a naughty boy?" I ventured to ask. Simon smiled. "Ah, my little one, what would become of the best of us if God did not take better care of us than we do of ourselves. Nevertheless, to run into needless danger is a sin of presumption. There are dangers enough hanging over our heads, let us be as careful as we may." I had lived, so to speak, in an atmosphere of danger all my life, but I think I now realized it for the first time. "What do you mean by an act of catholicity?" I asked. "Is it anything wicked?" Simon and his wife looked at each other, and then my foster-father put out his hand and drew me to his side. "Listen to me, little Vevette!" said he, laying his hand on my head and turning my face toward his. "It is hard to sadden thy young life with such a shadow, but it is needful. Yes, the shadow of the cross, which God hath laid on his church, falls also on the little ones. Attend, my child! Thou must never, never," he repeated, with some sternness in his voice, "on any pretext, or on any persuasion, no matter from whom it comes, enter a church or bow thy head to any image, or kiss any image or picture, or make the sign of the cross, or sing any hymns so-called, or canticle to the Virgin or the saints. If thou dost any such thing, the priests will perhaps come and take thee away from thy parents to shut thee up in a convent, where thou wilt never more see one of thy friends, and from which thou wilt never escape with life except by renouncing thy God and thy religion!" "I will never renounce my religion!" I cried with vehemence. "My uncle did so, and my father says he has disgraced his ancient name." "Alas, poor man, if that were all!" said Simon. "But now wilt thou remember these things, my child?" "I will try," said I humbly; for I remembered that only yesterday I had been humming the air of a hymn to the Virgin which had struck my fancy. "But oh, Father Simon, do you think they will take David away and shut him up in the monastery yonder?" "I trust not," said Simon, and then he added, with vehemence, "I would rather he were sunk before my eyes in the deepest sands of the Grève." "I think Vevette is as bad as David," said Lucille, who had not before spoken. "She knew he was going, and she did not prevent him. If I had known, I should have told mother directly." "Yes, thou art only too ready to tell," replied her mother. "Take care that no one has to tell of thee." "And remember that spiritual pride is as great a sin as disobedience, and goes before a fall as often, my Loulou," added her father. "I did not know what to do," said I. "Mother Jeanne does not like to have us tell tales;" which was true.