I am conscious that there was a sneer in my voice, but I was too much excited to think of politeness.  He gave me another of his rapid, keen looks.

‘M. le Maire,’ he said, ’you are injurious to a man who is as little fond of tricks as yourself.’

His tone, his glance, gave me a certain sense of shame, but I could not stop myself.  ‘One knows,’ I said, ’that there are many things which an ecclesiastic may do without harm, which are not permitted to an ordinary layman—­one who is an honest man, and no more.’

M. le Cure made no reply.  He gave me another of his quick glances, with an impatient turn of his head.  Why should I have suspected him? for no harm was known of him.  He was the Cure, that was all; and perhaps we men of the world have our prejudices too.  Afterwards, however, as we waited for M. de Clairon—­for the crisis was too exciting for personal resentment—­M. le Cure himself let drop something which made it apparent that it was the ladies of the hospital upon whom his suspicions fell.  ‘It is never well to offend women, M. le Maire,’ he said.  ’Women do not discriminate the lawful from the unlawful:  so long as they produce an effect, it does not matter to them.’  This gave me a strange impression, for it seemed to me that M. le Cure was abandoning his own side.  However, all other sentiments were, as may be imagined, but as shadows compared with the overwhelming power that held all our eyes and our thoughts to the wonder before us.  Every moment seemed an hour till M. de Clairon appeared.  He was pushed forward through the crowd as by magic, all making room for him; and many of us thought that when science thus came forward capable of finding out everything, the miracle would disappear.  But instead of this it seemed to glow brighter than ever.  That great word ‘Sommation’ blazed out, so that we saw his figure waver against the light as if giving way before the flames that scorched him.  He was so near that his outline was marked out dark against the glare they gave.  It was as though his close approach rekindled every light.  Then, with a flicker and trembling, word by word and letter by letter went slowly out before our eyes.

M. de Clairon came down very pale, but with a sort of smile on his face.  ‘No, M. le Maire,’ he said, ’I cannot see how it is done.  It is clever.  I will examine the door further, and try the panels.  Yes, I have left some one to watch that nothing is touched in the meantime, with the permission of M. le Cure—­’

‘You have my full permission,’ M. le Cure said; and M. de Clairon laughed, though he was still very pale.  ‘You saw my name there,’ he said.  ’I am amused—­I who am not one of your worthy citizens, M. le Maire.  What can Messieurs les Morts of Semur want with a poor man of science like me?  But you shall have my report before the evening is out.’