where he laboured, and knocked at
the door. The first time, he asked who was there. When she told him he
opened the door just a little way, smiled at her, caught her hand and
pressed it, and, when she would have entered, said: "No, no, another
day, Jeanne," and shut the door in her face.

She almost hated him because he had looked so happy. Still another day
she came knocking. She called to him, and this time he opened the door
and admitted her. That very hour she had heard again the story of the
nude stone woman in the shed, and her heart was full of jealousy, fury,
and suspicion. He was very quiet, he seemed tired. She did not notice
that. Her heart had throbbed wildly as she stepped inside the shed. She
looked round, all delirious eagerness for the nude figure.

There it was, covered up with a great canvas! Yes, there were the
outlines of the figure. How shapely it seemed, even inside the canvas!

She stepped forward without a word, and snatched at the covering. He
swiftly interposed and stopped her hand.

"I will see it," she said.

"Not to-day," he answered.

"I tell you I will." She wrenched her hand free and caught at the
canvas. A naked foot and ankle showed. He pinioned her wrists with one
hand and drew her towards the door, determination and anger in his face.

"You beast, you liar!" she said.

"You beast! beast! beast!"

Then, with a burst of angry laughter, she opened the door herself. "You
ain't fit to know," she said; "they told the truth about you. Now you
can take the canvas off her. Good-bye!" With that she was gone. The
following day was Sunday. Francois did not attend Mass, and such strange
scandalous reports had reached the Cure that he was both disturbed
and indignant. That afternoon, after vespers (which Francois did not
attend), the Cure made his way to the sculptor's workshop, followed by a
number of parishioners.

The crowd increased, and when the Cure knocked at the door it seemed as
if half the village was there. The chief witness against Francois had
been Jeanne Marchand. That very afternoon she had told the Cure, with
indignation and bitterness, that there was no doubt about it; all that
had been said was true.

Francois, with wonder and some confusion, admitted the Cure. When M.
Fabre demanded that he be taken to the new workshop, Francois led the
way. The crowd pushed after, and presently the place was full. A hundred
eyes were fastened upon the canvas-covered statue, which ha