For there is a strong Protestant
element here, dating from the epoch of the Revocation of the Edict of
Nantes, and in the neighbouring village of Quincey are a Protestant
Church and school. One Sunday morning I set off with two friends to
attend service in the latter, announced to take place at eleven o'clock,
but on arriving found the "Temple" locked, and not a sign of any coming
ceremonial. Being very hungry, after the long walk through cornfields
and vineyards, I went to a little baker's shop in search of a roll, and
there realized the hospitable spirit of these good Briards. The mistress
of the shop very kindly invited me into a little back room, and regaled
me with excellent household bread, Brie cheese, and the wine of the
country, refusing to be paid for her refreshments.
This little meal finished, I rejoined my friends at the church, which
was now open, and, in company of half a dozen school-children, we
quietly waited to see what would eventually take place. By-and-by, one
or two peasant-folks dropped in, picturesque old men and women, the
latter in black and blue dresses and mob-caps. Then the schoolmaster
appeared, and we were informed that it being the first Sunday in the
month, the pastor had to do duty in an adjoining parish, according to
custom, and that the schoolmaster would read the prayers and lessons
instead.
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