People began to talk about this, and shook their heads ominously. Little cared Roussart for their words or gestures; but he was the only one in the commune who never went to church. The curé at last gave out that he was excommunicated; and from that time his neighbors broke off all communication with him. Things had arrived at this point, when it was rumored that the gallant fisherman, Jacques Poulailler, had touched the heart of _La belle Isabeau_. Soon their approaching marriage became the topic of the village; and, finally, one Sunday, after mass, the bans were first published by the vicar. The lads of the village, congregated on the shore, were congratulating Poulailler on the auspicious event, when Roussart suddenly appeared among them. His presence was a surprise. He had always avoided the village meetings as much as others had sought them; and this sudden change in his habits gave a new impulse to curiosity. The stranger appeared to seek some one with his eyes, and presently walked straight up to the happy Jacques, who, intoxicated with joy, was giving and receiving innumerable shakes of the hand. "Master Poulailler," said Roussart, "you are going to be married, then?" "That seems sure," replied Poulailler. "Not more sure than that your first-born will belong to the evil one. I, Roussart, tell you so." With that he turned on his heel, and regained his isolated dwelling, leaving his auditors amazed by his abrupt and extraordinary announcement, and poor Jacques more affected by it than any one else. From that moment Roussart showed himself no more in the neighborhood, and soon disappeared altogether, without leaving a trace to indicate what had become of him. Most country people are superstitious,--the Bretons eminently so, and Jacques Poulailler never forgot the sinister prophecy of Roussart. His comrades were not more oblivious; and when, a year after his marriage, his first-born came into the world, a universal cry saluted the infant boy as devoted to Satan. _Donné au diable_ were the words added to the child's name whenever it was mentioned. It is not recorded whether or no he was born with teeth, but the gossips remarked that during the ceremony of baptism the new-born babe gave vent to the most fearful howlings. He writhed, he kicked, his little face exhibited the most horrible contortions; but as soon as they carried him out of the church, he burst out into laughter as unearthly as it was unnatural.