men, and yet he is a man of the world; he will not invite you into any
controversies. He will speak with you only on points on which we agree.
You know there are many points on which we agree?"

"Happily," said Lothair. "And now about the office to-night: tell me
about these Tenebrae. Is there any thing in the Tenebrae why I ought not
to be present?"

"No reason whatever; not a dogma which you do not believe; not a
ceremony of which you cannot approve. There are Psalms, at the end of
which a light on the altar is extinguished. There is the Song of Moses,
the Canticle of Zachary, the Miserere -- which is the 50th Psalm you
read and chant regularly in your church -- the Lord's Prayer in silence;
and then all is darkness and distress -- what the Church was when our
Lord suffered, what the whole world is now except His Church."

"If you will permit me," said Lothair, "I will accompany you to the
Tenebrae."

Although the chapel at Vauxe was, of course, a, private chapel, it was
open to the surrounding public, who eagerly availed themselves of a
permission alike politic and gracious.

Nor was that remarkable. Manifold art had combined to create this
exquisite temple, and to guide all its ministrations. But to-night it
was not the radiant altar and the splendor of stately priests, the
processions and the incense, the divine choir and the celestial
harmonies resounding lingering in arched roofs, that attracted many a
neighbor. The altar was desolate, the choir was dumb; and while the
services proceeded in hushed tones of subdued sorrow, and sometimes even