There stood in a corner near the door a triangular iron stand stuck full of votive tapers that flickered and sputtered and guttered dismally, shedding showers of penitential grease-drops on the paved floor below; and there was a very old peasant woman on her knees before the altar.

I sat down on a stone bench and fell into a long study of the stained oriel, the light o'erarching roof, and the long perspective of the pillared aisles.

Presently the verger came out of the vestry-room, followed by two gentlemen.

He was short and plump, with a loose black gown, slender black legs, and a pointed nose--like a larger species of raven.
"_Bon jour, M'sieur_" croaked he, laying his head a little on one side, and surveying me with one glittering eye.

"Will M'sieur be pleased to see the treasury ?" "The treasury!" I repeated.