Part 12 (1/2)

”Pierre, Pierre, my son!” he muttered brokenly, ”better that you had never been born, than after reaching manhood's estate to have forgotten all our teachings and become a drunkard and an outcast from the Church.” A stifled sob from his wife again changed his rambling thoughts, and painfully rising he walked over to her side. Gently he laid his hand on the hair that he so dearly loved, although so much changed, and bending tenderly down said, bravely, trying to check the tremor in his voice, ”There, wife, don't fret.” And then he drew her head to his shoulder in a way he used to do when they were both in the noonday of life. She remembered, and her grief grew less. ”The Virgin is good, wife, and we have prayed so much to Her about him. Surely She will hear us, and not let what you fear fall upon our Pierre. Father Benoit has been praying to Her all these years, and we are told that the Virgin sooner or later answers the prayers of the priests of our Church. Then special prayers will be offered for our son to-night by the priest, for he knows how you feared for him because this was the last night of the seventh year.”

A shudder ran through her frame as the anxious mother started to her feet and said fearfully:

”Yes, in another hour a new day will dawn, and then seven years will have pa.s.sed since our son went to confession, and then the curse may fall at any time.”

Dropping his voice almost to a whisper, and looking with superst.i.tious dread out of the window into the moonlight, which made the newly fallen snow glisten on the road with almost supernatural whiteness, and trying to speak in a tone of conviction, her husband said:

”Perhaps the priest may be right, wife, and this about loup-garou may not be true. He told us that he did not believe in it, and that the Church had uttered no such curse against those who for seven years did not confess; although if they died in that sinful state there was no hope of salvation for them. As for the devil, you remember the priest said that he had not the power to change a man into a wolf or an animal of any kind, and--”

”Speak not like that, Baptiste,” broke in his wife with fear in her eyes; ”the evil one may hear what you say, and out of mockery to the Church, cause the evil to fall upon him.” With piteous haste she made the sign of the cross on her bosom, and instinctively her husband did the same.

Although it was near midnight they had not lit the lamp, for the moon that poured in at the window made the cottage almost as light as noonday.

”Husband,” she went on in a tone of conviction, ”why should we try to deceive ourselves? for we know that it is true. Father Benoit is sorry for us and would give us comfort. It may be that the curse is not from the Church, but the devil knows when human beings are forsaken by the blessed Church, and if he can change them into animals and keep them so till death, then he is sure of their souls; even the blessed Mother then can do nothing for them.”

Baptiste raised his hand beseechingly, as though he would fain have her cease, but she only drew still closer to him and continued quickly:

”Have we not known it since we were children? Did not our parents believe in it? Even if we had not been told these things, we know it is true. Have you forgotten a.r.s.ene Bolduc, Baptiste?”

Again he raised his hand, mutely protesting, but she did not heed him.

”It is only three years ago that it happened to a.r.s.ene. He, like our boy, had not partaken of the blessed sacrament for seven years. You know how he blasphemed and drank, and grew wickeder every year, till finally the very last night of the seventh year came, and just a few minutes before twelve he became possessed of the devil, and beat his mother, and then ran out of the house and was never seen again. And why was he never seen again, Baptiste?” She was getting strangely excited, and her voice was rising.

”For the love of the Virgin, cease, wife?”

But she was now far too excited for him to have control over her, and went on:

”When a.r.s.ene did not come back, his father thought the evil one had turned him into a wolf; but his mother said she believed he had been changed into a bull, and we know she was right, for a few days later you helped, with the other men, to drag out of the river the bull that was found drowned. Did not all the village folk talk about it, and regret that someone had not met the beast before it was drowned, and drawn blood from it so as to release a.r.s.ene? Has he ever been seen since? We have known of others like him who have disappeared and have never been seen again. How can we deceive ourselves and say there is no loup-garou? There is; and we must not sleep this night till our son returns. This night above all others he should not have been out late.

He must be drinking heavily in the village. We do not know what may happen, Baptiste. I fear some evil is about to befall him, for my heart is full of fear.”

Her voice had a pitiful break in it as she concluded.

”Let us pray the good G.o.d to protect him this night, wife,” answered Baptiste, no longer pretending that he did not believe in this strange legend, in which nearly all his race in his station in life have faith.

While they were on their knees praying, the yellow-faced clock behind the stove struck the hour of midnight.

”_Mon Dieu!_ twelve o'clock!”

The anxious mother sprang to her feet, ran to the door, opened it, and standing on the steps shaded her eyes with her hand, and looked earnestly down the long snow-clad road in the direction of the little village of St. Pascal. Behind her stood Baptiste, also shading his weak eyes and looking. Not a human being was in sight. The zinc-covered spire of the little village church, nearly half a mile away, glittered and shone in the fairy light like burnished silver.

The quaint whitewashed cottages that dotted the road to the village looked far different from what they did in the daytime; somehow the charitable moon had forgotten to reveal the cracks and stains that time in its relentless march had made. The lines, too, that age and care had made on the two eager watching faces were also, by the great ruler of the night, tenderly smoothed out.

”I cannot see him, Baptiste,” she said presently, lowering her hand from her eyes.

”Neither can I, wife; neither can I. Let us go into the house and wait.” He laid his hand persuasively on her shoulder. As she turned the moon shone full in her face. She stopped and looked at it for a few moments like one fascinated, then slowly raised her hand and pointed at it.

”Baptiste,” she said in an awed voice, with the superst.i.tious light again in her eyes, ”do you remember once before when it was as bright as this?”

He tried to draw her toward the door, but she resisted, and looking hurriedly up into his face, said:

”Ah; I see you, too, remember! It was the night a.r.s.ene Bolduc went out never to return. The devil is surely abroad this night, and our Pierre is not yet home.”