"That is blood!" exclaimed the priest.

"It is marked with a royal crown!" cried Sister Agathe.

The women, aghast, allowed the precious relic to fall. For their
simple souls the mystery that hung about the stranger grew
inexplicable; as for the priest, from that day forth he did not even
try to understand it.



Before very long the prisoners knew that, in spite of the Terror, some
powerful hand was extended over them. It began when they received
firewood and provisions; and next the Sisters knew that a woman had
lent counsel to their protector, for linen was sent to them, and
clothes in which they could leave the house without causing remark
upon the aristocrat's dress that they had been forced to wear. After
awhile Mucius Scaevola gave them two civic cards; and often tidings
necessary for the priest's safety came to them in roundabout ways.
Warnings and advice reached them so opportunely that they could only
have been sent by some person in the possession of state secrets. And,
at a time when famine threatened Paris, invisible hands brought
rations of "white bread" for the proscribed women in the wretched
garret. Still they fancied that Citizen Mucius Scaevola was only the
mysterious instrument of a kindness always ingenious, and no less
intelligent.

The noble ladies in the garret could no longer doubt that their
protector was the stranger of the expiatory mass on the night of the
22nd of January, 1793; and a kind of cult of him sprung up among them.