At last, quite dazed by the mystery, I gave it up and wandered off anywhere.

In the village I met an old man, carrying wood; him I accosted, and asked how the minister fared.
He cackled and laid down his faggots.
"Grammercy, the poor lad's head is turned, neighbour.

The Frenchwoman who has come has looked over him.

Why--he! he!--he's been to the barber's, and--he! he!--he preached an hour short on Sunday, and, forgive us! he hath gotten him a new shirt.

She's a witch, I tell'ee; and mark me if the next bundle of sticks I carry up be not for her burning.