six months ill from the wounds he received in defence of Franconnette, and now his family is dependent upon him; but he has industry and courage, and will soon recover from his misfortunes."

Franconnette remained quiet, concealing her emotions. Then the games began. They played at Cache Couteau or Hunt the Slipper. Dancing came next; Franconnette was challenged by Laurent, and after many rounds the girl was tired, and Laurent claimed the kisses that she had forfeited. Franconnette flew away like a bird; Laurent ran after her, caught her, and was claiming the customary forfeit, when, struggling to free herself, Laurent slipped upon the floor, fell heavily, and broke his arm.

Franconnette was again unfortunate. Ill-luck seems to have pursued the girl. The games came to an end, and the young people were about to disperse when, at this unlucky moment, the door was burst open and a sombre apparition appeared. It was the Black Forest sorcerer, the supposed warlock of the neighbourhood. "Unthinking creatures," he said, "I have come from my gloomy rocks up yonder to open your eyes. You all adore this Franconnette. Behold, she is accursed! While in her cradle her father, the Huguenot, sold her to the devil. He has punished Pascal and Laurent for the light embrace she gave them. He warned in time and avoid her. The demon alone has a claim to her."

The sorcerer ended; sparks of fire surrounded him, and after turning four times round in a circle he suddenly disappeared! Franconnette's friends at once held aloof from her. They called out to her," Begone!" All in a maze the girl shuddered and sickened; she became senseless, and fell down on the floor in a swoon. The young people fled, leaving her helpless. And thus ended the second fête which began so gaily.

The grossest superstition then prevailed in France, as everywhere. Witches and warlocks were thoroughly believed in, far more so than belief in God and His Son. The news spread abroad that the girl was accursed and sold to the Evil One, and she was avoided by everybody. She felt herself doomed. At length she reached her grandmother's house, but she could not work, she could scarcely stand. The once radiant Franconnette could neither play nor sing; she could only weep.

Thus ended two cantos of the poem. The third opens with a lovely picture of a cottage by a leafy brookside in the hamlet of Estanquet. The spring brought out the singing-birds to pair and build their nests. They listened, but could no longer hear the music which, in former years, had been almost sweeter than their own. The nightingales, more curious than the rest, flew into the maid's garden; they saw her straw hat on a bench, a rake and watering-pot among the neglected jonquils, and the rose branches running riot. Peering yet further and peeping into the cottage door, the curious birds discovered an old woman asleep in her arm-chair, and a pale, quiet girl beside her, dropping tears upon her lily hands. "Yes, yes, it is. Franconnette," says the poet. "You will have guessed that already. A poor girl, weeping in solitude, the daughter of a Huguenot, banned by the Church and sold to the devil! Could anything be more frightful?"

Nevertheless her grandmother said to her, "My child, it is not true; the sorcerer's charge is false. He of good cheer, you are more lovely than ever." One gleam of hope had come to Franconnette; she hears that Pascal has defended her everywhere, and boldly declared her to be the victim of a brutal plot. She now realised how great was his goodness, and her proud spirit was softened even to tears. The grandmother put in a good word for Marcel, but the girl turned aside. Then the old woman said, "To-morrow is Easter Day; go to Mass, pray as you never prayed before, and take the blessed bread, proving that you are numbered with His children for ever."

The girl consented, and went to the Church of Saint Peter on Easter morning. She knelt, with her chaplet of beads, among the rest, imploring Heaven's mercy. But she knelt alone in the midst of a wide circle. All the communicants avoided her. The churchwarden, Marcel's uncle, in his long-tailed coat, with a pompous step, passed her entirely by, and refused her the heavenly meal. Pascal was there and came to her help. He went forward to the churchwarden and took from the silver plate the crown piece⁶ of the holy element covered with flowers, and took and presented two pieces of the holy bread to Franconnette -- one for herself, the other for her grandmother.