seating themselves in the porch, or standing about the yard, in the
shade of the century-old elms.

For such was the custom in the hamlet of Sairmeuse.

The two hours which the women consecrated to prayer the men employed
in discussing the news, the success or the failure of the crops; and,
before the service ended, they could generally be found, glass in hand,
in the bar-room of the village inn.

For the farmers for a league around, the Sunday mass was only an excuse
for a reunion, a sort of weekly bourse.

All the cures who had been successively stationed at Sairmeuse had
endeavored to put an end to this scandalous habit, as they termed it;
but all their efforts had made no impression upon country obstinacy.

They had succeeded in gaining only one concession. At the moment of the
elevation of the Host, voices were hushed, heads uncovered, and a few
even bowed the knee and made the sign of the cross.

But this was the affair of an instant only, and conversation was
immediately resumed with increased vivacity.

But to-day the usual animation was wanting.

No sounds came from the little knots of men gathered here and there, not
an oath, not a laugh. Between buyers and sellers, one did not overhear
a single one of those interminable discussions, punctuated with the
popular oaths, such as: "By my faith in God!" or "May the devil burn