ir quiet beauty, and the dim
light that filtered through at that early hour gave them a vague soft
glow.

No pictures or ornaments disfigured the walls. The "Stations of the
Cross" were the only adornment, and they were so simple and childish
in their execution that they were no doubt the work of some rustic
artist. And even this added a touching note to a harmonious whole.

But my attention was attracted by a slight noise, a kind of soft and
monotonous murmur, coming from the altar. The choir was almost in
darkness, but I could distinguish the six stars of the lighted
candles. In front of the tabernacle was standing a large white shadowy
form, almost motionless and like a phantom. At the bottom of the steps
another form was kneeling, bowed down towards the floor; it did not
stir as I approached. I went towards the choir on tip-toe, very
cautiously. I felt that I, a profane person, was committing a
sacrilege by coming to disturb those two men praying there all alone
in the gloom of that sad morning. A deep feeling of emotion passed
through me, and I felt so insignificant in their presence and in the
mysterious atmosphere of the place that I knelt down humbly, almost
timidly, in the shadow of one of the great pillars near the altar.

Then I could distinguish my fellow-worshippers better. A priest was
saying mass. He was young and tall, and his gestures as he officiated
were slow and dignified. He did not know that some one was present
watching him closely; so it could not be supposed that he was speaking
and acting to impress a congregation, and yet he had a way of
kneeling, of stretching out his arms and of looking up to the humble
gilded cross in front of him, that revealed all the ardour of fervent
prayers. Occasionally he turned towards the back of the church to
pronounce the ritual words. His face was serious and kindly, framed in
a youthful beard--the face of an apostle, with the glow of faith in
his eyes. And I was surprised to see underneath his priest's vestments
the hems of a pair of red trousers, and feet shod in large muddy
military boots.

The kneeling figure at the bottom of the steps now stood out more
distinctly. The man was wearing on his shabby infantry coat the white
armlet with the red cross. He must have been a priest, for I could
distinguish some traces of a neglected tonsure among his brown hair.

The two repeated, in a low tone by turns, words of prayer, comfort,
repentance, or supplication,