elt there; those precincts had a soul,--a soul
which was felt, though we might not fully explain to our own souls how
we felt it.

VIII. THE RECTOR OF MONTEGNAC

The Abbe Gabriel glided softly through the church so as not to disturb
the devotions of two groups of persons on the benches near the high
altar, which was separated from the nave at the place where the lamp was
hung by a rather common balustrade, also of chestnut wood, and covered
with a cloth intended for the communion. On either side of the nave a
score of peasants, men and women, absorbed in fervent prayer, paid no
attention to the stranger when he passed up the narrow passage between
the two rows of seats.

When the young abbe stood beneath the lamp, whence he could see the two
little transepts which formed a cross, one of which led to the sacristy,
the other to the cemetery, he noticed on the cemetery side a family
clothed in black kneeling on the pavement, the transepts having no
benches. The young priest knelt down on the step of the balustrade which
separated the choir from the nave and began to pray, casting oblique
glances at a scene which was soon explained to him. The gospel had been
read. The rector, having removed his chasuble, came down from the altar
and stood before the railing; the young abbe, who foresaw this movement,
leaned back against the wall, so that Monsieur Bonnet did not see him.
Ten o'clock was striking.

"Brethren," said the rector, in a voice of emotion, "at this very moment
a child of this parish is paying his debt to human justice by enduring
its last penalty, while we are offering the sacrifice of the mass for
the peace of his soul. Let us unite in prayer to God, imploring Him not
to turn His face from that child in these his last moments, and to
grant to his repentance the pardon in heaven which is denied to him here
below. The sin of this unhappy man, one of those on whom we most relied
for good examples, can only be explained by his disregard of religious
principles."

Here the rector was interrupted by sobs from the kneeling group in
mourning garments, whom the Abbe Gabriel recognized, by this show of
affection, as the Tascheron family, although he did not know them. First
among them was an old couple (septuagenarians) standing by the wall,
their faces seamed with deep-cut, rigid wrinkles, and bronzed like a
Florentine medal. These persons, stoically erect like statues, in their
old darned clothes, were doubtle