"To church! For what?" asked Cornelia, evidently surprised.
"To hear mass."
"Would you listen to a mass celebrated by a perjured priest?"
And, as Dolores looked at her in astonishment, Cornelia added:
"The sacred offices are now celebrated only by renegade priests, who have forsaken the tenets of the church to render allegiance to the constitution."
But that same evening after supper, as Dolores was about retiring to her chamber, Cornelia, who was sitting with her guest in the room in the rear of the shop, while Bridoul and Coursegol were closing the saloon, said to her:
"This morning you were regretting that you could not attend church. I have been informed that an aged saint, who has found shelter with some worthy people in the neighborhood, will celebrate mass this evening."
"Oh! let us go!" cried Dolores.
"Very well, you shall go; Coursegol will accompany us; Bridoul will remain at home and take care of the house."
A few moments later, Dolores, Cornelia and Coursegol, provided with the pass that all good patriots were obliged to carry if they were in the streets of Paris after ten o'clock at night, stole out of the wine-shop and turned their steps toward the Place Royale. The streets which they traversed, looking back anxiously now and then to make sure that they were not followed, were dark and almost deserted. It was only occasionally that they met little groups of two or three persons, who passed rapidly, as if they distrusted the other passers-by. A policeman stopped our friends. They displayed their passes, and he allowed them to pursue their way without further questions. At last, they reached the Place Royale, and turned into a side street. At a half-open door stood a man clad in a blouse, and wearing a red cap. Cornelia said a few words to him in a low tone.