of famine ever so keen, the friend of man
should not be eaten."

"That was while the beef lasted; but since we have come to cats, who
shall predict immunity to dogs? Quid intactum nefasti linquimus? Nothing
is sacred from the hand of rapine."

The church of the Madeleine now stood before them. Moblots were playing
pitch-and-toss on its steps.

"I don't wish you to accompany me, Messieurs," said Lemercier,
apologetically, "but I am going to enter the church."

"To pray?" asked De Breze, in profound astonishment. "Not exactly; but
I want to speak to my friend Rochebriant, and I know I shall find him
there."

"Praying?" again asked De Breze.

"Yes."

"That is curious--a young Parisian exquisite at prayer--that is worth
seeing. Let us enter, too, Savarin."

They enter the church. It is filled, and even the sceptical De Breze
is impressed and awed by the sight. An intense fervour pervades the
congregation. The majority, it is true, are women, many of them in
deep mourning, and many of their faces mourning deeper than the dress.
Everywhere may be seen gushing tears, and everywhere faintly heard the
sound of stifled sighs. Besides the women are men of all ages--young,
middle-aged, old, with heads bowed and hands clasped, pale, grave,
and earnest. Most of them were evidently of the superior grade of
life--nobles, and the higher bourgeoisie: few of the ouvrier class, very
few, and these were of an earlier generation. I except soldiers, of whom
there were many, from the provincial Mobiles, chiefly Bretons; you know
the Breton soldiers by the little cross worn on their kepis.

Among them Lemercier at once distinguished the noble countenance of
Alain de Rochebriant. De Breze and Savarin looked at each other with
solemn eyes. I know not when either had last been within a church;
perhaps both were startled to find that religion still existed in
Paris--and largely exist it does, though little seen on the surface
of society, little to be estimated by the articles of journals and the
reports of foreigners. Unhappily, those among whom it exists are not the
ruling class--are of the classes that are dominated over and obscured in
every country the moment the populace becomes master. And at that moment
the journals chiefly read were warring more against the Deity than
the Prussians--were denouncing soldiers who attended mass. "The Gospel
certainly makes a bad soldier," writes the patriot Pyat.

Lemercier knelt down quietly. The