s piety of former days!"

CLAIR DE LUNE

Abbe Marignan's martial name suited him well. He was a tall, thin priest,
fanatic, excitable, yet upright. All his beliefs were fixed, never
varying. He believed sincerely that he knew his God, understood His
plans, desires and intentions.

When he walked with long strides along the garden walk of his little
country parsonage, he would sometimes ask himself the question: "Why has
God done this?" And he would dwell on this continually, putting himself
in the place of God, and he almost invariably found an answer. He would
never have cried out in an outburst of pious humility: "Thy ways, O Lord,
are past finding out."

He said to himself: "I am the servant of God; it is right for me to know
the reason of His deeds, or to guess it if I do not know it."

Everything in nature seemed to him to have been created in accordance
with an admirable and absolute logic. The "whys" and "becauses" always
balanced. Dawn was given to make our awakening pleasant, the days to
ripen the harvest, the rains to moisten it, the evenings for preparation
for slumber, and the dark nights for sleep.

The four seasons corresponded perfectly to the needs of agriculture, and
no suspicion had ever come to the priest of the fact that nature has no
intentions; that, on the contrary, everything which exists must conform
to the hard demands of seasons, climates and matter.

But he hated woman--hated her unconsciously, and despised her by
instinct. He often repeated the words of Christ: "Woman, what have I to
do with thee?" and he would add: "It seems as though God, Himself, were
dissatisfied with this work of His." She was the tempter who led the
first man astray, and who since then had ever been busy with her work of
damnation, the feeble creature, dangerous and mysteriously affecting one.
And even more than their sinful bodies, he hated their loving hearts.

He had often felt their tenderness directed toward himself, and though he
knew that he was invulnerable, he grew angry at this need of love that is
always vibrating in them.

According to his belief, God had created woman for the sole purpose of
tempting and testing man. One must not approach her without defensive
precautions and fear of possible snares. She was, indeed, just like a
snare, with her lips open and her arms stretched out to man.

He had no indulgence except for nuns, whom their vows had rendered
inoffensive; but he was stern with