A few seconds later she could be heard swearing in the sacristy because the matches were damp.  Brother Archangias, who remained alone with the priest, sourly inquired:  ‘For the month of Mary, eh?’

‘Yes,’ replied Abbe Mouret.  ’The last few days the girls about here were hard at work and couldn’t come as usual to decorate the Lady Chapel.  So the ceremony was postponed till to-night.’

‘A nice custom,’ muttered the Brother.  ’When I see them all putting up their boughs I feel inclined to knock them down and make them confess their misdeeds before touching the altar.  It’s a shame to allow women to rustle their dresses so near the holy relics.’

The Abbe made an apologetic gesture.  He had only been at Les Artaud a little while, he must follow the customs.

‘Whenever you like, Monsieur le Cure, we’re ready!’ now called out La Teuse.

But Brother Archangias detained him a minute.  ‘I am off,’ he said.  ’Religion isn’t a prostitute that it should be decorated with flowers and laces.’

He walked slowly to the door.  Then once more he stopped, and lifting one of his hairy fingers added:  ‘Beware of your devotion to the Virgin.’

XIII

On entering the church Abbe Mouret found nine or ten big girls awaiting him with boughs of ivy, laurel, and rosemary.  Few garden flowers grew on the rocks of Les Artaud, so the custom was to decorate the Lady altar with a greenery which might last throughout the month of May.  Thereto La Teuse would add a few wallflowers whose stems were thrust into old decanters.

‘Will you let me do it, Monsieur le Cure?’ she asked.  ’You are not used to it——­ Come, stand there in front of the altar.  You can tell me if the decorations please you.’

He consented, and it was she who really directed the arrangements.  Having climbed upon a pair of steps she bullied the girls as they came up to her in turn with their leafy contributions.

’Not so fast, now!  You must give me time to fix the boughs.  We can’t have all these bundles coming down on his reverence’s head——­ Come on, Babet, it’s your turn.  What’s the good of staring at me like that with your big eyes?  Fine rosemary yours is, my word! as yellow as a thistle.  You next, La Rousse.  Ah, well, that is splendid laurel!  You got that out of your field at Croix-Verte, I know.’

The big girls laid their branches on the altar, which they kissed; and there they lingered for a while, handing up the greenery to La Teuse.  The sly look of devotion they had assumed on stepping on to the altar steps was quickly set aside, and soon they were laughing, digging each other with their knees, swaying their hips against the altar’s edge, and thrusting their bosoms against the tabernacle itself.  Over them the tall Virgin in gilded plaster bent her tinted face, and smiled with her rosy lips upon the naked Jesus she bore upon her left arm.

‘That’s it, Lisa!’ cried La Teuse; ’why don’t you sit on the altar while you’re about it?  Just pull your petticoats straight, will you?  Aren’t you ashamed of behaving like that?—­If any one of you lolls about I’ll lay her boughs across her face.—­Can’t you hand me the things quietly?’