Immediately they decided on their plan. And one night, by the light of the moon, they took the road to the cemetery, stealing in like thieves, in the shadows of the houses. The shutters were fastened, and quiet reigned around every dwelling-place; not a dog barked.
Gorju accompanied them. They set to work. All that could be heard was the noise of stones knocking against the spade as it dug through the soil.
The vicinity of the dead was disagreeable to them. The church clock struck with a rattling sound, and the rosework on its tympanum looked like an eye espying a sacrilege. At last they carried off the bowl.
They came next morning to the cemetery to see the traces of the operation.
The abbé, who was taking the air at his door, begged of them to do him the honour of a visit, and, having introduced them into his breakfast-parlour, he gazed at them in a singular fashion.
In the middle of the sideboard, between the plates, was a soup-tureen decorated with yellow bouquets.
Pécuchet praised it, at a loss for something to say.
"It is old Rouen," returned the curé; "an heirloom. Amateurs set a high value on it—M. Marescot especially." As for him, thank God, he had no love of curiosities; and, as they appeared not to understand, he declared that he had seen them himself stealing the baptismal font.
The two archæologists were quite abashed. The article in question was not in actual use.
No matter! they should give it back.