Pouring out into the street the people watched him cross the bridge that
led into another parish--and into another world: for from that hour
Francois Lagarre was never seen in Pontiac.

The statue that he made stands upon a little hill above the valley where
the beaters of flax come in the autumn, through which the woodsmen pass
in winter and in spring. But Francois Lagarre, under another name, works
in another land.

While the Cure lived he heard of him and of his fame now and then, and to
the day of his death he always prayed for him. He was wont to say to the
little Avocat whenever Francois's name was mentioned:

"The spirit of a man will support him, but a wounded spirit who can
bear?"