My blood boiled at the sight, and if I could have commanded the lightning from heaven, that procession would have gone no farther. It was closed by a number of villagers, all telling their beads, some with a great show of devotion, others languidly and carelessly enough. The new curé came last of all. He was a small, thin, sharp-faced man, with a cruel mouth, and eyes that seemed to see everything at once. He was certainly a great contrast to poor Father Jean, who used to go about with his deep pockets filled with bonbons, which he distributed to Catholic and Protestant children alike. "The wretches! The murderous brigands!" said I between my teeth. "Oh, if I could kill them all! The vile kidnappers! Oh, why does the Lord suffer such things?" "That is what I ask," said Lucille. "Why should they be so prospered and have so much power if the Lord is not on their side? As to these children, I don't know that I pity them so very much. The old woman could not have lived long, and now they are sure of support and a good education. I think the nuns are very kind-looking ladies, for my part. And if they were right after all—if one's salvation does depend upon being a Roman Catholic—then they are right in forcing people to become so." "Why did not our Lord and his apostles force all the Jews to become Christians?" I demanded hotly enough. "He said he had only to ask to receive more than twelve legions of angels. Why did not he do it, and shut up all those people who did not believe on him, or put them to death, if that is the right way?" "He said his kingdom was not of this world, else would his servants fight," answered Lucille. "Then the kingdom which is of this world, and whose servants do fight and oppress, is not his," I answered, for I could reason well enough when I was roused from my daydreams. "We ought to be going," said Lucille, abruptly changing the subject. "The supper will be ready, and my father will be angry if I am not there. I am to be kept to rules as if I were no more than five years old." Jeanne welcomed me with her usual affection, but her eyes were red with weeping, and she was evidently absent-minded. I told her what we had seen. "Yes, I have had the story from my sister," said Jeanne, her eyes overflowing as she spoke. "The poor old woman! Happily it cannot be long in the course of nature before she goes to her rest, but my heart aches for the little ones. My children, you must be doubly careful. This new priest is not like the old one—he will leave us no peace. You must take care never even to go near the church, or stop to look on at any of their doings. Perhaps a way of escape may be opened to us before long. It would indeed be hard to leave our home and go among strangers, but exile with liberty of worship would be better than living in such constant fear."