‘And may this one bung your mouth up!’ retorted Jeanbernat, who was now quite calm again.  ’Is he cracked, the silly fellow, with all those stories of his? . . .  Shall I have to break your head for you, before I can get on my way?  Is it your catechism that has turned your brain?’

’Catechism, indeed!  Do you know what catechism is taught to accursed ones like you?  Ah!  I will show you how to make the sign of the cross.  —­This stone is for the Father, and this for the Son, and this for the Holy Ghost.  Ah! you are still standing.  Wait a bit, wait a bit.  Amen!’ Then he threw a handful of small pebbles like a volley of grape-shot.  Jeanbernat, who was struck upon the shoulder, dropped the stones he was holding, and quietly stepped forwards, while Brother Archangias picked two fresh handfuls from the heap, blurting out: 

I am going to exterminate you.  It is God who wills it.  God is acting through my arm.’

‘Will you be quiet!’ said the old man, grasping him by the nape of the neck.

Then came a short struggle amidst the dust of the road, all bluish with moonlight.  The Brother, finding himself the weaker of the two, tried to bite.  But Jeanbernat’s sinewy limbs were like coils of rope which pinioned him so tightly that he could almost feel them cutting into his flesh.  He panted and ceased to struggle, meditating some act of treachery.

The old man, having got the other under him, scoffingly exclaimed:  ’I have a good mind to break one of your arms.  You see that it isn’t you who are the stronger, but that it is I who am exterminating you. . . .  Now I’m going to cut your ears off.  You have tried my endurance too far.’

Jeanbernat calmly drew his knife from his pocket.  But Abbe Mouret, who had several times attempted to part the combatants, now raised such strenuous opposition to the old man’s design that he consented to defer the operation till another time.

‘You are acting foolishly, Cure,’ said he.  ’It would do this scoundrel good to be well bled; but, since it seems to displease you, I’ll wait a little longer; I shall be meeting him again in some quiet corner.’

And as the Brother broke out into a growl, Jeanbernat cried threateningly:  ’If you don’t keep still I will cut your ears off at once!’

‘But you are sitting on his chest,’ said the priest, ’get up and let him breathe.’

’No, no; he would begin his tomfoolery again.  I will give him his liberty when I go away, but not before. . . .  Well, I was telling you, Cure, when this good-for-nothing interrupted us, that you would be very welcome yonder.  The little one is mistress, you know; I don’t attempt to interfere with her any more than I do with my salad-plants.  There are only fools like this croaker here who see any harm in it.  Where did you see anything wrong, scoundrel?  It was yourself who imagined it, villain that you are!’

And thereupon he gave the Brother another shaking.  ‘Let him get up,’ begged Abbe Mouret.