te than from anything more
we could say, what sort of man he was who left such a memory in the
hearts of his gaoler and his executioner.

URBAIN GRANDIER--1634

CHAPTER I

On Sunday, the 26th of November, 1631, there was great excitement in the
little town of Loudun, especially in the narrow streets which led to the
church of Saint-Pierre in the marketplace, from the gate of which the
town was entered by anyone coming from the direction of the abbey of
Saint-Jouin-les-Marmes. This excitement was caused by the expected
arrival of a personage who had been much in people's mouths latterly in
Loudun, and about whom there was such difference of opinion that
discussion on the subject between those who were on his side and those
who were against him was carried on with true provincial acrimony. It
was easy to see, by the varied expressions on the faces of those who
turned the doorsteps into improvised debating clubs, how varied were the
feelings with which the man would be welcomed who had himself formally
announced to friends and enemies alike the exact date of his return.

About nine o'clock a kind of sympathetic vibration ran through the crowd,
and with the rapidity of a flash of lightning the words, "There he is!
there he is!" passed from group to group. At this cry some withdrew into
their houses and shut their doors and darkened their windows, as if it
were a day of public mourning, while others opened them wide, as if to
let joy enter. In a few moments the uproar and confusion evoked by the
news was succeeded by the deep silence of breathless curiosity.

Then, through the silence, a figure advanced, carrying a branch of laurel
in one hand as a token of triumph. It was that of a young man of from
thirty-two to thirty-four years of age, with a graceful and well-knit
frame, an aristocratic air and faultlessly beautiful features of a
somewhat haughty expression. Although he had walked three leagues to
reach the town, the ecclesiastical garb which he wore was not only
elegant but of dainty freshness. His eyes turned to heaven, and singing
in a sweet voice praise to the Lord, he passed through the streets
leading to the church in the market-place with a slow and solemn gait,
without vouchsafing a look, a word, or a gesture to anyone. The entire
crowd, falling into step, marched behind him as he advanced, singing like
him, the singers being the prettiest girls in Loudun, for we have
forgotten to say th