That summer the gambling houses were closed, despite the threats of Pierre Ameaux, a gaming-card manufacturer. Dancing was no longer permitted in the streets. The Bordel and other places of prostitution were emptied. The slit breeches had to go. Drunkenness was no longer tolerated. In defiance, a chinless reprobate, Jake Camaret, marched down the aisle in St. Peter's one Sunday morning, followed by one of the women from the Bordel, whose dress and walk plainly showed the lack of any shame. Plunking themselves down on the front bench, they turned to smirk at those around them.

John's first impulse was to denounce their blasphemy. But the thought occurred that God would want this opportunity used to tell them about Him. Calmly he opened the Bible and read of the woman at the well. He finished the worship service as if there had been no brazen attempt to dishonor God and man.

The next morning, as the clock struck nine, he appeared at the Council meeting in the Town Hall and insisted that the couple would have to be punished if the Church was to be respected.

``I have told you before, and I tell you again,'' Monsieur Favre said rudely. ``Stick to the preaching of the Gospel!''

John stiffened in anger. ``That is the answer the ungodly will always make when the Church points its fingers at their sins. I say to you that the Church will ever decry evil!''

John's reply was like a declaration of war. Monsieur Favre sat down in his high-backed stall, lips compressed, eyes glinting. Ablard Corne, a short man with a rotunda of stomach, rose. Every eye was on him as he began to speak.