e a ciborium, the gift of royal
munificence, the wine and water for the holy sacrifice of the mass stood
ready in two glasses such as could scarcely be found in the meanest
tavern. For want of a missal, the priest had laid his breviary on the
altar, and a common earthenware plate was set for the washing of hands
that were pure and undefiled with blood. It was all so infinitely great,
yet so little, poverty-stricken yet noble, a mingling of sacred and
profane.

The stranger came forward reverently to kneel between the two nuns. But
the priest had tied crape round the chalice of the crucifix, having no
other way of marking the mass as a funeral service; it was as if God
himself had been in mourning. The man suddenly noticed this, and the
sight appeared to call up some overwhelming memory, for great drops of
sweat stood out on his broad forehead.

Then the four silent actors in the scene looked mysteriously at one
another; and their souls in emulation seemed to stir and communicate the
thoughts within them until all were melted into one feeling of awe and
pity. It seemed to them that the royal martyr whose remains had been
consumed with quicklime, had been called up by their yearning and now
stood, a shadow in their midst, in all the majesty of a king. They
were celebrating an anniversary service for the dead whose body lay
elsewhere. Under the disjointed laths and tiles, four Christians were
holding a funeral service without a coffin, and putting up prayers to
God for the soul of a King of France. No devotion could be purer than
this. It was a wonderful act of faith achieved without an afterthought.
Surely in the sight of God it was like the cup of cold water which
counterbalances the loftiest virtues. The prayers put up by two feeble
nuns and a priest represented the whole Monarchy, and possibly at the
same time, the Revolution found expression in the stranger, for the
remorse in his face was so great that it was impossible not to think
that he was fulfilling the vows of a boundless repentance.

When the priest came to the Latin words, _Introibo ad altare Dei_,
a sudden divine inspiration flashed upon him; he looked at the three
kneeling figures, the representatives of Christian France, and said
instead, as though to blot out the poverty of the garret, "We are about
to enter the Sanctuary of God!"

These words, uttered with thrilling earnestness, struck reverent awe
into the nuns and the stranger. Under the vaulted r