Goundran the fisher must grasp^ it for him. And
after the priest had given them his blessing Madame
Roustan wrapped a new, white woolly shawl about
Christophers now new and sinless body; and Goundran
solemnly blew out his candle; and Jouse solemnly
blew his nose on the damp handkerchief handed back
by Marie. The townsfolk who had come to see the
event turned and left the old church with much
whispering and smiling; while the little party chiefly
concerned prepared to go back to the Benedit's house
with their friends, there to celebrate the occasion.
§3
The small parlour was crowded to overflowing,,
for not everyone opened so much good wine solely in
honour of an infant Christian; indeed many baptisms
went unnoticed. But as Jouse had said: it was not
every man who could sire so fine and healthy a son
when he himself was approaching fifty; and so there
was plenty to eat and drink, the wine gleaming as
golden as Jouse* s beard and as red as his cheeks, in its
generous glasses.
Madame Roustan —as a mother-in-God who had
witnessed so robust and valiant a fight with the devil —
Madame Roustan drank a tumbler of Camp Romain
rouge which flushed her plump face and set her
perspiring; after which she must glance from the
corner of an eye at Goundran, her fellow parent-in-
God, for she was a widow but not past mating.
Despite her encroaching flesh she looked young,
and like Jouse her brother, had a clear, fair com-
plexion.
Germaine Roustan had been deprived of her man, a
linen-draper, by one of those strokes that occasionally
come in the wake of great heat — he had died in
rather less than an hour, having been smitten down