ore."

"I am so glad," said Godfrey.

"Yes, but I am ashamed to take it from you. Well, I'll leave it back to
you one day."

"Leave it back! Then you must die before me, and why should you do
that? You are quite young."

"Because I shall," she answered with a sad little smile. "I look
stronger than I am. Meanwhile you will come and tell me all about this
talisman."

"I have told you all I know, Miss Ogilvy."

"Do you think so? I don't. But look, your old pasteur is calling that
the diligence is coming. Good-bye. I'll send the carriage for you next
Sunday in time for _dejeuner_."

A few minutes later Godfrey found himself packed in a rumbling old
diligence amidst a number of peasant women with baskets. Also there was
a Roman Catholic priest who sat opposite to the Pasteur. For a while
these two eyed each other with evident animosity, just like a pair of
rival dogs, Godfrey thought to himself.

At the outskirts of the town they passed a shrine, in which was the
image of some saint. The priest crossed himself and bowed so low that
he struck the knee of the Pasteur, who remonstrated in an elaborate and
sarcastic fashion. Then the fight began, and those two holy men
belaboured each other, with words, not fists, for the rest of the
journey. Godfrey's French was sadly to seek, still before it was done,
he did wonder whether all their language was strictly Christian, for
such words as _Sapristi_, and _Nom de Dieu_, accompanied by snapping of
the fingers, and angry stares, struck him as showing a contentious and
even a hostile spirit. Moreover, that was not the end of it, since of
the occupants of the diligence, about one half seemed to belong to the
party of the priest, and the other half to the party of the Pasteur.

By degrees all of these were drawn into the conflict. They shouted and
screamed at each other, they waved their arms, and incidentally their
baskets, one of which struck Godfrey on the nose, and indeed nearly
came to actual fisticuffs.

Apparently the driver was accustomed to such scenes, for after a glance
through his little window he took no further notice. So it went on
until at last he pulled up and shouted:

"_Voyageurs pour Kleindorf, descendez. Vite, s'il vous plait._"

"Here we do get down, young Monsieur," said the Pasteur, suddenly
relapsing into a kind of unnatural calm. Indeed, at the door he turned
and bowed politely to his adversary, wishing him _bon voyage_, to which
the priest repli