r Godfrey."

"No, not so," said the Pasteur. "Remain seated. In one minute I will be
ready to accompany you."

"_Mon Dieu!_ what for?" exclaimed Madame. "Never did I hear of such a
thing," while even Juliette looked amazed.

Meanwhile Godfrey had risen and was making for the door, with a fixed
and sickly smile upon his face. The Pasteur swallowed down his _vin
ordinaire_ and rushed after him.

"He is ill," said Juliette, with sympathy, "all day he has looked
strange."

"Perhaps," said Madame. "That sermon of your father's was enough to
turn anybody's stomach, with his talk about devils and witches. But why
cannot he leave him alone? A doctor in such a case perhaps, but a
clergyman----! _Mon Dieu!_ there they go, the two of them walking
towards the woods. What a strange idea! And your father has Monsieur
Godfrey by the arm, although assuredly he is not faint for he pulls
ahead as though in a great hurry. They must be mad, both of them. I
have half a mind----"

"No, no, Mother," said Juliette. "Leave them alone. Doubtless in time
they will return. Perhaps it has something to do with the stars."

"Silly girl! Stars at midday!"

"Well, Mamma, you know they are always there even if one cannot see
them."

"Nonsense, child. They only come at night. The question is--where are
those two going?"

Juliette shook her head and gave it up, and so perforce did her mother.

CHAPTER IX

THE PASTEUR CONQUERS

Meanwhile, following a short cut through the snowy woods that ran over
the shoulder of the intervening hill, the pair were wending their way
towards Lucerne. Godfrey, a fixed and vacant look upon his face, went
first; the Pasteur clinging to his arm like a limpet to a rock, puffed
along beside him.

"Heaven!" he gasped, "but this attraction of yours must be strong that
it makes you walk so fast immediately after dinner."

"It is, it is!" said Godfrey, in a kind of agony. "I feel as though my
inside were being drawn out, and I must follow it. Please hold my arm
tight or I shall run."

"Ah! the witch. The great witch!" puffed the Pasteur, "and up this hill
too, over snow. Well, it will be better on the down grade. Give me your
hand, my boy, for your coat is slipping, and if once you got away how
should I catch you?"

They accomplished the walk into Lucerne in absolutely record time.
Fortunately, at this after-dinner hour few people were about, but some
of those whom they met stared at them, and one called: