red. As yet, neither of the Sisters
understood of whom the stranger was speaking; they sat with their heads
stretched out and faces turned towards the speaker, curiosity in their
whole attitude. The priest meanwhile, was scrutinizing the stranger;
there was no mistaking the anxiety in the man's face, the ardent
entreaty in his eyes.

"Very well," returned the abbe. "Come back at midnight. I shall be ready
to celebrate the only funeral service that it is in our power to offer
in expiation of the crime of which you speak."

A quiver ran through the stranger, but a sweet yet sober satisfaction
seemed to prevail over a hidden anguish. He took his leave respectfully,
and the three generous souls felt his unspoken gratitude.

Two hours later, he came back and tapped at the garret door.
Mademoiselle de Beauseant showed the way into the second room of their
humble lodging. Everything had been made ready. The Sisters had moved
the old chest of drawers between the two chimneys, and covered its
quaint outlines over with a splendid altar cloth of green watered silk.

The bare walls looked all the barer, because the one thing that hung
there was the great ivory and ebony crucifix, which of necessity
attracted the eyes. Four slender little altar candles, which the Sisters
had contrived to fasten into their places with sealing-wax, gave a
faint, pale light, almost absorbed by the walls; the rest of the room
lay well-nigh in the dark. But the dim brightness, concentrated upon
the holy things, looked like a ray from Heaven shining down upon the
unadorned shrine. The floor was reeking with damp. An icy wind swept in
through the chinks here and there, in a roof that rose sharply on either
side, after the fashion of attic roofs. Nothing could be less imposing;
yet perhaps, too, nothing could be more solemn than this mournful
ceremony. A silence so deep that they could have heard the faintest
sound of a voice on the Route d'Allemagne, invested the night-piece with
a kind of sombre majesty; while the grandeur of the service--all the
grander for the strong contrast with the poor surroundings--produced a
feeling of reverent awe.

The Sisters kneeling on each side of the altar, regardless of the
deadly chill from the wet brick floor, were engaged in prayer, while the
priest, arrayed in pontifical vestments, brought out a golden chalice
set with gems; doubtless one of the sacred vessels saved from the
pillage of the Abbaye de Chelles. Besid