ret, the cure handed the vial to Philippe, who,
with another sigh of regret, delivered it to Citizen Rhul, who, without
a sigh of regret, carried it to the front of the cathedral, and at the
foot of the statue of Louis XV. hammered the vial to powder, and trod
what remained of the precious ointment under foot until it was
completely mingled with the mud of the street.

"So we put an end to princes and pomatum," said this irascible
republican, with a laugh of triumph, as he ground the remnants of the
vial under his irreverent heel.

Not quite an end to either, as it proved. The portion of the sacred oil
which M. Seraine had saved was divided into two portions, one kept by
himself, the other placed in the care of Philippe Hourelle, to be kept
until the reign of anarchy should come to an end and a king reign again
in France. And had Citizen Rhul dreamed of all that lay in the future
every hair on his democratic head would have stood erect in horror and
dismay.

In truth, not many years had passed before the age of princes came again
to France, and a demand for St. Remy's vial arose, Napoleon was to be
crowned emperor at Notre Dame. Little did this usurper of royalty care
for the holy oil, but there were those around him with more reverence
for the past, men who would have greatly liked to act as knights of the
Sainte Ampoule. But the unguent was not forthcoming, and the emperor was
crowned without its aid.

Then came the end of the imperial dynasty, and the return of the
Bourbons. To them the precious ointment was an important essential of
legitimate kingship. Could St. Remy's vial be found, or had it and its
contents vanished in the whirlpool of the Revolution? That was to be
learned. A worthy magistrate of Rheims, Monsieur de Chevrieres, took in
hand the task of discovery. He searched diligently but unsuccessfully,
until one day, in the early months of 1819, when three gentlemen, sons
of Philippe Hourelle, called upon him, and told the story which we have
just transcribed. A portion of the holy oil of coronation, they
declared, had been in their father's care, preserved and transmitted
through M. Seraine's wit and promptitude. Their father was dead, but he
had left it to his widow, who long kept it as a priceless treasure. They
were interrupted at this point in their story by M. de Chevrieres.

"This is fortunate," he exclaimed. "She must pass it over to me. Her
name will become historic for her loyal spirit."

"I