My shortest way lay through the Basse-Ville, and as the night was excessively dark, wild, and wet, I took it.

In riding past an old church belonging to a community of Beguines, I saw by a lamp burning over the porch or deep arch of the entrance, a priest lifting some object in his arms.

The lamp was bright enough to reveal the priest's features clearly, and I recognised him; he was a man I have often met by the sick beds of both rich and poor: and chiefly the latter.

He is, I think, a good old man, far better than most of his class in this country; superior, indeed, in every way, better informed, as well as more devoted to duty.

Our eyes met; he called on me to stop: what he supported was a woman, fainting or dying.