Moreover, that was not the end of it, since of the occupants of the diligence, about one half seemed to belong to the party of the priest, and the other half to the party of the Pasteur.
By degrees all of these were drawn into the conflict.

They shouted and screamed at each other, they waved their arms, and incidentally their baskets, one of which struck Godfrey on the nose, and indeed nearly came to actual fisticuffs.
Apparently the driver was accustomed to such scenes, for after a glance through his little window he took no further notice.

So it went on until at last he pulled up and shouted: "_Voyageurs pour Kleindorf, descendez.

Vite, s'il vous plait._" "Here we do get down, young Monsieur," said the Pasteur, suddenly relapsing into a kind of unnatural calm.

Indeed, at the door he turned and bowed politely to his adversary, wishing him _bon voyage_, to which the priest replied with a solemn benediction in the most Catholic form.
"He is not bad of heart, that priest," said the Pasteur, as he led the way to the gate of a little shrubbery, "but he do try to steal my sheep, and I protect them from him, the blood-toothed wolf.