was a ghost."
"Erik," said Father Mansart, intervening hastily as he saw me clench my fists, "what you have been doing is very foolish and puts both you and your mother at risk. It must not occur again. If you continue to alarm the village in this fashion there may be unpleasant… reprisals."
Erik made an instinctive movement toward me and then froze.
"You understand what I mean by reprisals, don't you, my child?"
"Yes," Erik whispered with horror. "But why—why would they hurt me? I haven't done any harm. Why do they all hate me?"
The priest spread his hands uncomfortably.
"Men hate the things they fear… and they fear those things which they do not understand."
Erik touched the mask hesitantly. "My face"—he faltered—"they hate me because of my face?"
Father Mansart took his arm. "Come, child, let us pray. We shall ask God to grant you patience and understanding—"
"No!" Erik pulled away from his grasp abruptly. "I'm not going to pray anymore! Why should I? God doesn't listen to me."
"Erik!" I gasped. "You will apologize to Father Mansart immediately and beg God's forgiveness for such terrible blasphemy."
He was stubbornly silent.
"Go to your room," I said icily. "I will deal with your disobedience later."
There was an appalled silence when he had left us. I sank into the hearthside chair and stared at the priest.
"What can we do?" I breathed.
"He must not be allowed to leave the house again," said Father Mansart, after a moment. "I will return later to board up his window and place bolts on his door."
"Board up his window…" I echoed wretchedly. "Must I now shut him up in a room without natural light?"
"I fear there is no other way to protect him," the priest said sadly.
That night there was a great disturbance outside in the road, a crowd of village boys throwing stones and shouting obscene abuse. I was so furious that in spite of the priest's warnings, I threw open my bedroom window and challenged them.
"Go away!" I screamed. "Go away and leave me and my son in peace!"
"Bring out the monster!" they chanted rudely, in response. "Bring out the monster and let us see him, lady."
A clod of filth struck me on the cheek. I heard the sound of a downstairs window smashing and held my breath with terror as someone began kicking the front door.
"Be off with you!" stormed Father Mansart's voice from a little distance down the road. "You young devils! I promise you this night will earn you penances enough to keep you on your knees for a month! Yes… I know your names… every one of you! Be off, I say!"
The voices grew fainter and less belligerent as their owners skulked away into the falling dusk.
Running down the narrow staircase, I wrenched open the front door and buried my face against the priest's habit.
"Oh, Father! I thought they were going to break into the house and take him!"
"I don't think they would dare to go that far, my dear, but certainly I couldn't answer for what they would do if they caught him wandering alone. Is he safe upstairs?"
I nodded.
"Good. I shall remove the glass from his window and fit a bolt at the top and bottom of his door. I think that will contain him… indeed, it may well be that after tonight he will be too frightened to try to escape again."
"What is to become of him?" I whispered in despair. "What in God's name will become of him?"
"It is not for us to foresee the future," replied the priest evasively. "I will go to him now, if I may. I rather think I shall find him ready to pray once more by now."
I tried to smile, faintly. "You have forgiven him his blasphemy, then?"
He made a philosophical gesture.
"If that is all that heaven is ever required to forgive in him we shall be fortunate indeed," he said.
And taking the candle from my nerveless hand, he lit his way to the top of the silent house without another word.
On Sunday I walked down into the village with Marie, to shame the parents of our tormentors. It was some years now since I had
"Erik," said Father Mansart, intervening hastily as he saw me clench my fists, "what you have been doing is very foolish and puts both you and your mother at risk. It must not occur again. If you continue to alarm the village in this fashion there may be unpleasant… reprisals."
Erik made an instinctive movement toward me and then froze.
"You understand what I mean by reprisals, don't you, my child?"
"Yes," Erik whispered with horror. "But why—why would they hurt me? I haven't done any harm. Why do they all hate me?"
The priest spread his hands uncomfortably.
"Men hate the things they fear… and they fear those things which they do not understand."
Erik touched the mask hesitantly. "My face"—he faltered—"they hate me because of my face?"
Father Mansart took his arm. "Come, child, let us pray. We shall ask God to grant you patience and understanding—"
"No!" Erik pulled away from his grasp abruptly. "I'm not going to pray anymore! Why should I? God doesn't listen to me."
"Erik!" I gasped. "You will apologize to Father Mansart immediately and beg God's forgiveness for such terrible blasphemy."
He was stubbornly silent.
"Go to your room," I said icily. "I will deal with your disobedience later."
There was an appalled silence when he had left us. I sank into the hearthside chair and stared at the priest.
"What can we do?" I breathed.
"He must not be allowed to leave the house again," said Father Mansart, after a moment. "I will return later to board up his window and place bolts on his door."
"Board up his window…" I echoed wretchedly. "Must I now shut him up in a room without natural light?"
"I fear there is no other way to protect him," the priest said sadly.
That night there was a great disturbance outside in the road, a crowd of village boys throwing stones and shouting obscene abuse. I was so furious that in spite of the priest's warnings, I threw open my bedroom window and challenged them.
"Go away!" I screamed. "Go away and leave me and my son in peace!"
"Bring out the monster!" they chanted rudely, in response. "Bring out the monster and let us see him, lady."
A clod of filth struck me on the cheek. I heard the sound of a downstairs window smashing and held my breath with terror as someone began kicking the front door.
"Be off with you!" stormed Father Mansart's voice from a little distance down the road. "You young devils! I promise you this night will earn you penances enough to keep you on your knees for a month! Yes… I know your names… every one of you! Be off, I say!"
The voices grew fainter and less belligerent as their owners skulked away into the falling dusk.
Running down the narrow staircase, I wrenched open the front door and buried my face against the priest's habit.
"Oh, Father! I thought they were going to break into the house and take him!"
"I don't think they would dare to go that far, my dear, but certainly I couldn't answer for what they would do if they caught him wandering alone. Is he safe upstairs?"
I nodded.
"Good. I shall remove the glass from his window and fit a bolt at the top and bottom of his door. I think that will contain him… indeed, it may well be that after tonight he will be too frightened to try to escape again."
"What is to become of him?" I whispered in despair. "What in God's name will become of him?"
"It is not for us to foresee the future," replied the priest evasively. "I will go to him now, if I may. I rather think I shall find him ready to pray once more by now."
I tried to smile, faintly. "You have forgiven him his blasphemy, then?"
He made a philosophical gesture.
"If that is all that heaven is ever required to forgive in him we shall be fortunate indeed," he said.
And taking the candle from my nerveless hand, he lit his way to the top of the silent house without another word.
On Sunday I walked down into the village with Marie, to shame the parents of our tormentors. It was some years now since I had
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