her journey, and when she had passed through the porch she found herself in the midst of a vast congregation which entirely filled the church.  But she did not recognize any of the worshipers and was surprised to observe that all of these people were dressed in velvets and brocades, with feathers in their hats, and that they wore swords in the fashion of days gone by.  Here were gentlemen who carried tall canes with gold knobs, and ladies with lace caps fastened with coronet-shaped combs.  Chevaliers of the Order of St. Louis extended their hands to these ladies, who concealed behind their fans painted faces, of which only the powdered brow and the patch at the corner of the eye were visible!  All of them proceeded to take their places without the slightest sound, and as they moved neither the sound of their footsteps on the pavement, nor the rustle of their garments could be heard.  The lower places were filled with a crowd of young artisans in brown jackets, dimity breeches, and blue stockings, with their arms round the waists of pretty blushing girls who lowered their eyes.  Near the holy water stoups peasant women, in scarlet petticoats and laced bodices, sat upon the ground as immovable as domestic animals, whilst young lads, standing up behind them, stared out from wide-open eyes and twirled their hats round and round on their fingers, and all these sorrowful countenances seemed centred irremovably on one and the same thought, at once sweet and sorrowful.  On her knees, in her accustomed place, Catherine Fontaine saw the priest advance toward the altar, preceded by two servers.  She recognized neither priest nor clerks.  The Mass began.  It was a silent Mass, during which neither the sound of the moving lips nor the tinkle of the bell was audible.  Catherine Fontaine felt that she was under the observation and the influence also of her mysterious neighbor, and when, scarcely turning her head, she stole a glance at him, she recognized the young Chevalier d’Aumont-Clery, who had once loved her, and who had been dead for five and forty years.  She recognized him by a small mark which he had over the left ear, and above all by the shadow which his long black eyelashes cast upon his cheeks.  He was dressed in his hunting clothes, scarlet with gold lace, the very clothes he wore that day when he met her in St. Leonard’s Wood, begged of her a drink, and stole a kiss.  He had preserved his youth and good looks.  When he smiled, he still displayed magnificent teeth.  Catherine said to him in an undertone: 

“’Monseigneur, you who were my friend, and to whom in days gone by I gave all that a girl holds most dear, may God keep you in His grace!  O, that He would at length inspire me with regret for the sin I committed in yielding to you; for it is a fact that, though my hair is white and I approach my end, I have not yet repented of having loved you.  But, dear dead friend and noble seigneur, tell me, who are these folk, habited after the antique fashion, who are here assisting at this silent Mass?’