Those who heard it had a strange feeling, for already to them the man was as if he had some baleful disease, and this little bell told of the passing of a leper.
Yet some one man had worn just such a bell every year in Pontiac.

It was the mark of honour conferred upon a voyageur by his fellows, the token of his prowess and his skill.

This year Luc Pomfrette had won it, and that very day it had been buckled round his leg with songs and toasts.
For hours Pomfrette walked incessantly up and down the river-bank, muttering and gesticulating, but at last came quietly to the cottage which he shared with Henri Beauvin.

Henri had removed himself and his belongings: already the ostracising had begun.

He went to the bedroom of old Mme.