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 expiatory mass with you----"

He broke off, bowed to the three, who answered not a word, gave a last
look at the garret with its signs of poverty, and vanished.

Such an adventure possessed all the interest of a romance in the lives
of the innocent nuns. So, as soon as the venerable abbe told them the
story of the mysterious gift, it was placed upon the table, and by the
feeble light of the tallow dip an indescribable curiosity appeared in
the three anxious faces. Mademoiselle de Langeais opened the box, and
found a very fine lawn handkerchief, soiled with sweat; darker stains
appeared as they unfolded it.