An atheist in their midst was like a scorpion in a flower-bed--no one could tell when and where he would sting.

Rough misdemeanours among them had been many, there had once been a murder in the parish, but the undefined horrors of infidelity were more shameful than crimes the eye could see.
To the minds of these excited people the tailor-man's death was due to the infidel before them.

They were ready to do all that might become a Catholic intent to avenge the profaned honour of the Church and the faith.

Bodily harm was the natural form for their passion to take.
"Bring him out--let us have him!" they cried with fierce gestures, to which Rosalie Evanturel turned a pained, indignant face.
As the Curb stood with the paper in his hand, his face set and bitter, Rosalie made a step forward.

She meant to tell the truth about Louis Trudel, and show how good this man was, who stood charged with an imaginary crime.