ht have
defended the King and left their swords in their scabbards, will have a
very heavy account to render to the King of Heaven--Ah! yes," he added,
with an eloquent shake of the head, "heavy indeed!--for by doing nothing
they became accomplices in the awful wickedness----"

"But do you think that an indirect participation will be punished?" the
stranger asked with a bewildered look. "There is the private soldier
commanded to fall into line--is he actually responsible?"

The priest hesitated. The stranger was glad; he had put the Royalist
precisian in a dilemma, between the dogma of passive obedience on the
one hand (for the upholders of the Monarchy maintained that obedience
was the first principle of military law), and the equally important
dogma which turns respect for the person of a King into a matter of
religion. In the priest's indecision he was eager to see a favorable
solution of the doubts which seemed to torment him. To prevent too
prolonged reflection on the part of the reverend Jansenist, he added:

"I should blush to offer remuneration of any kind for the funeral
service which you have just performed for the repose of the King's soul
and the relief of my conscience. The only possible return for something
of inestimable value is an offering likewise beyond price. Will you
deign, monsieur, to take my gift of a holy relic? A day will perhaps
come when you will understand its value."

As he spoke the stranger held out a box; it was very small and
exceedingly light. The priest took it mechanically, as it were, so
astonished was he by the man's solemn words, the tones of his voice, and
the reverence with which he held out the gift.

The two men went back together into the first room. The Sisters were
waiting for them.

"This house that you are living in belongs to Mucius Scaevola, the
plasterer on the first floor," he said. "He is well known in the Section
for his patriotism, but in reality he is an adherent of the Bourbons.
He used to be a huntsman in the service of his Highness the Prince de
Conti, and he owes everything to him. So long as you stay in the house,
you are safer here than anywhere else in France. Do not go out. Pious
souls will minister to your necessities, and you can wait in safety for
better times. Next year, on the 21st of January,"--he could not hide an
involuntary shudder as he spoke,--"next year, if you are still in this
dreary refuge, I will come back again to celebrate the expia