"It's a lie," cried Pomfrette, shaking with rage from head to foot.

A long horror-stricken "Ah!" broke from the crowd. The Cure's face
became graver and colder.

"You have a bad heart," he answered, "and you give Pontiac an evil name.
I command you to come to Mass next Sunday, to repent and to hear your
penance given from the altar. For until--"

"I'll go to no Mass till I'm carried to it," was the sullen, malevolent
interruption.

The Cure turned upon the people.

"This is a blasphemer, an evil-hearted, shameless man," he said. "Until
he repents humbly, and bows his vicious spirit to holy Church, and his
heart to the mercy of God, I command you to avoid him as you would a
plague. I command that no door be opened to him; that no one offer him
comfort or friendship; that not even a bon jour or a bon soir pass
between you. He has blasphemed against our Father in heaven; to the
Church he is a leper." He turned to Pomfrette. "I pray God that you
have no peace in mind or body till your evil life is changed, and your
black heart is broken by sorrow and repentance."

Then to the people he said again: "I have commanded you for your souls'
sake; see that you obey. Go to your homes. Let us leave the leper--
alone." He waved the awed crowd back.

"Shall we take off the little bell?" asked Lajeunesse of the Cure.