silent that I scarcely dared disturb the echoes by my footsteps. There
stood in a corner near the door a triangular iron stand stuck full of
votive tapers that flickered and sputtered and guttered dismally,
shedding showers of penitential grease-drops on the paved floor below;
and there was a very old peasant woman on her knees before the altar. I
sat down on a stone bench and fell into a long study of the stained
oriel, the light o'erarching roof, and the long perspective of the
pillared aisles. Presently the verger came out of the vestry-room,
followed by two gentlemen. He was short and plump, with a loose black
gown, slender black legs, and a pointed nose--like a larger species
of raven.

"_Bon jour, M'sieur_" croaked he, laying his head a little on one side,
and surveying me with one glittering eye. "Will M'sieur be pleased to
see the treasury?"

"The treasury!" I repeated. "What is there to be seen in the treasury?"

"Nothing, sir, worth one son of an Englishman's money," said the taller
of the gentlemen. "Tinsel, paste, and dusty bones--all humbug and
extortion."

Something in the scornful accent and the deep voice aroused the
suspicions of the verger, though the words were spoken in English.

"Our treasury, M'sieur," croaked he, more ravenly than ever, "is
rich--rich in episcopal jewels; in relics--inestimable relics. Tickets
two francs each."

Grateful, however, for the timely caution, I acknowledged my