ate in the crime which
was about to be committed. She went before daybreak to a chapel,
situated rather more than a mile from the town in a retired spot and
dedicated to St. Roch. Several pious persons had arranged to meet
there, and a signal was to let them know just when the knife was
about to drop so that they might all be in prayer when the soul of the
martyr was, brought by the angels before the throne of the Most High.

All this bound people together more closely than we can form any idea
of. My grandmother loved the priests and believed in their courage and
devotion to duty. She was destined to meet with a very cool reception
from one of them. When during the Consulate religious worship was
re-established, the priest whom she had sheltered at the risk of her
life was appointed incumbent of a parish near Lannion. She took my
mother, then quite a child, with her, and they walked the five miles
under a scorching sun. The thought of meeting again one whom she
had seen keeping the night watch at her house under such tragical
circumstances made her heart beat fast. The priest, whether from
sacerdotal pride or from a feeling of duty, behaved in a very strange
manner. He scarcely seemed to recognise her, never asked her to be
seated, and dismissed her with a few short remarks. Not a word of
thanks or an allusion to the past. He did not even offer her a glass
of water. My grandmother could scarcely keep from fainting; and she
returned to Lannion in tears, whether because she reproached herself
for some feminine error of the heart or because she was hurt by so
much pride. My mother never knew whether in after years she looked
back to this incident with the more of injured pride or of admiration.
Perhaps, she came at last to recognise the infinite wisdom of the
priest, who seemed to say to her, "Woman, what have I to do with
thee?" and who would not admit that he had any reason to be grateful
to her. It is difficult for women to comprehend this abstract feeling.
Their work, whatever it may be, has always a personal object in view,
and it would be hard to make them believe it natural that people
should fight shoulder to shoulder without knowing and liking one
another.

My mother, with her frank, cheerful, and inquisitive ways, was rather
partial to the Revolution than the reverse. Unknown to my grandmother
she used to go and hear the patriotic songs. The _Chant du Depart_
made a great impression upon her, and when she repe