ter her arrival, Dolores was installed in a chamber over
the shop. Coursegol occupied a small room adjoining this chamber. They
could reach their apartments without passing through the saloon; so
Dolores and Coursegol were not compelled to mingle against their will
with the crowd of customers that filled the wine-shop during the day. It
was decided that they should all take their meals at a common table,
which was to be served in the back shop where Bridoul and his wife
slept. It was also decided that Dolores should lay aside the Provencale
costume which she had worn on her arrival in Paris, and dress like a
daughter of the people. Everything that would be likely to attract
attention must be scrupulously avoided, for the beauty of Dolores had
already awakened too much interest on the part of curious customers.

The following Sunday morning, Dolores, who felt certain that Cornelia
Bridoul was a devout Christian, said to her:

"At what hour do you go to church? I would like to accompany you?"

"To church! For what?" asked Cornelia, evidently surprised.

"To hear mass."

"Would you listen to a mass celebrated by a perjured priest?"

And, as Dolores looked at her in astonishment, Cornelia added:

"The sacred offices are now celebrated only by renegade priests, who
have forsaken the tenets of the church to render allegiance to the
constitution."

But that same evening after supper, as Dolores was about retiring to her
chamber, Cornelia, who was sitting with her guest in the room in the
rear of the shop, while Bridoul and Coursegol were closing the saloon,
said to her:

"This morning you were regretting that you could not attend church. I
have been informed that an aged saint, who has found shelter with some
worthy people in the neighborhood, will celebrate mass this evening."

"Oh! let us go!" cried Dolores.

"Very well, you shall go; Coursegol will accompany us; Bridoul will
remain at home and take care of the house."

A few moments later, Dolores, Cornelia and Coursegol, provided with the
pass that all good patriots were obliged to carry if they were in the
streets of Paris after ten o'clock at night, stole out of the wine-shop
and turned their steps toward the Place Royale. The streets which they
traversed, looking back anxiously now and then to make sure that they
were not followed, were dark and almost deserted. It was only
occasionally that they met little groups of two or three persons, who
passed rapidl