, save that the bell-rope near the confessional
still swung between roof and floor with a sinuous sweep.

Abbe Mouret had just come down to the sacristy, a small and chilly
apartment, which a passage separated from his dining-room.

'Good morning, Monsieur le Cure,' said La Teuse, laying her broom aside.
'Oh! you have been lazy this morning! Do you know it's a quarter past
six?' And without allowing the smiling young priest sufficient time to
reply, she added 'I've a scolding to give you. There's another hole in
the cloth again. There's no sense in it. We have only one other, and
I've been ruining my eyes over it these three days in trying to mend it.
You will leave our poor Lord quite bare, if you go on like this.'

Abbe Mouret was still smiling. 'Jesus does not need so much linen, my
good Teuse,' he cheerfully replied. 'He is always warm, always royally
received by those who love Him well.'

Then stepping towards a small tap, he asked: 'Is my sister up yet? I
have not seen her.'

'Oh, Mademoiselle Desiree has been down a long time,' answered the
servant, who was kneeling before an old kitchen sideboard in which the
sacred vestments were kept. 'She is already with her fowls and rabbits.
She was expecting some chicks to be hatched yesterday, and it didn't
come off. So you can guess her excitement.' Then the worthy woman broke
off to inquire: 'The gold chasuble, eh?'

The priest, who had washed his hands and stood reverently murmuring a
prayer, nodded affirmatively. The parish possessed only three chasubles:
a violet one, a black one, and one in cloth-of-gold. The last had to be
used on the days when white, red, or green was prescribed by the ritual,
and it was therefore an all important garment. La Teuse lifted it
reverently from the shelf covered with blue paper, on which she laid
it after each service; and having placed it on the sideboard, she
cautiously removed the fine cloths which protected its embroidery. A
golden lamb slumbered on a golden cross, surrounded by broad rays of
gold. The gold tissue, frayed at the folds, broke out in little slender
tufts; the embossed ornaments were getting tarnished and worn. There was
perpetual anxiety, fluttering concern, at seeing it thus go off spangle
by spangle. The priest had to wear it almost every day. And how on earth
could it be replaced--how would they be able to buy the three chasubles
whose place it took, when the last gold threads should be worn out?

Upon the