one and the same thought, at once sweet and sorrowful. On her knees,
in her accustomed place, Catherine Fontaine saw the priest advance
toward the altar, preceded by two servers. She recognized neither priest
nor clerks. The Mass began. It was a silent Mass, during which neither
the sound of the moving lips nor the tinkle of the bell was audible.
Catherine Fontaine felt that she was under the observation and the
influence also of her mysterious neighbor, and when, scarcely turning
her head, she stole a glance at him, she recognized the young Chevalier
d'Aumont-Clery, who had once loved her, and who had been dead for five
and forty years. She recognized him by a small mark which he had over
the left ear, and above all by the shadow which his long black eyelashes
cast upon his cheeks. He was dressed in his hunting clothes, scarlet
with gold lace, the very clothes he wore that day when he met her in St.
Leonard's Wood, begged of her a drink, and stole a kiss. He had
preserved his youth and good looks. When he smiled, he still displayed
magnificent teeth. Catherine said to him in an undertone:

"'Monseigneur, you who were my friend, and to whom in days gone by I
gave all that a girl holds most dear, may God keep you in His grace! O,
that He would at length inspire me with regret for the sin I committed
in yielding to you; for it is a fact that, though my hair is white and I
approach my end, I have not yet repented of having loved you. But, dear
dead friend and noble seigneur, tell me, who are these folk, habited
after the antique fashion, who are here assisting at this silent Mass?'

"The Chevalier d'Aumont-Clery replied in a voice feebler than a breath,
but none the less crystal clear:

"'Catherine, these men and women are souls from purgatory who have
grieved God by sinning as we ourselves sinned through love of the
creature, but who are not on that account cast off by God, inasmuch as
their sin, like ours, was not deliberate.

"'Whilst separated from those whom they loved upon earth, they are
purified in the cleansing fires of purgatory, they suffer the pangs of
absence, which is for them the most cruel of tortures. They are so
unhappy that an angel from heaven takes pity upon their love-torment. By
the permission of the Most High, for one hour in the night, he reunites
each year lover to loved in their parish church, where they are
permitted to assist at the Mass of Shadows, hand clasped in hand. These
are the facts