s, Christians," he said, as he ended; "for this day only
have we the power to bless your guns. Those who do not take advantage of
the Saint's favor will not find her merciful; she will not forgive them
or listen to them as she did in the last war."

This appeal, enforced by the power of a loud voice and by many gestures,
the vehemence of which bathed the orator in perspiration, produced,
apparently, very little effect. The peasants stood motionless, their
eyes on the speaker, like statues; but Mademoiselle de Verneuil
presently noticed that this universal attitude was the result of a
spell cast by the abbe on the crowd. He had, like great actors, held his
audience as one man by addressing their passions and self-interests. He
had absolved excesses before committal, and broken the only bonds which
held these boorish men to the practice of religious and social precepts.
He had prostituted his sacred office to political interests; but it must
be said that, in these times of revolution, every man made a weapon
of whatever he possessed for the benefit of his party, and the pacific
cross of Jesus became as much an instrument of war as the peasant's
plough-share.

Seeing no one with whom to advise, Mademoiselle de Verneuil turned
to look for Francine, and was not a little astonished to see that she
shared in the rapt enthusiasm, and was devoutly saying her chaplet
over some beads which Galope-Chopine had probably given her during the
sermon.

"Francine," she said, in a low voice, "are you afraid of being a
Mahometan?"

"Oh! mademoiselle," replied the girl, "just see Pierre's mother; she is
walking!"

Francine's whole attitude showed such deep conviction that Marie
understood at once the secret of the homily, the influence of the clergy
over the rural masses, and the tremendous effect of the scene which was
now beginning.

The peasants advanced one by one and knelt down, presenting their guns
to the preacher, who laid them upon the altar. Galope-Chopine offered
his old duck-shooter. The three priests sang the hymn "Veni, Creator,"
while the celebrant wrapped the instruments of death in bluish clouds
of incense, waving the smoke into shapes that appeared to interlace one
another. When the breeze had dispersed the vapor the guns were returned
in due order. Each man received his own on his knees from the hands of
the priests, who recited a Latin prayer as they returned them. After
the men had regained their places, the pro