It was ingenuous and brave; born of a proud and great purity.
She knew that at five o'clock on every Saturday afternoon Monseigneur
went to kneel in the Chapel Hautecoeur, where he liked to pray alone,
giving himself up entirely to the past of his race and to himself,
seeking a solitude which was respected by all connected with the
Cathedral. As it fortunately happened, this was a Saturday. She quickly
came to a decision. At the Bishop's Palace, not only would she be apt
to find it difficult to be received, but, on the other hand, there were
always so many people about she would be ill at ease; whilst it would
be so simple to await him in the chapel, and to introduce herself to
Monseigneur as soon as he appeared. That day she embroidered with her
usual application and composure. Firm in her wish, sure of doing the
right thing, she had no impatient fever of expectation. When it was
four o'clock she spoke of going to see the _mere_ Gabet, and went out,
dressed as for an ordinary walk, wearing her little garden-hat tied
carelessly under her chin. She turned to the left, and pushing open
the linted, stuffed door of the portal of Saint Agnes, let it fall back
heavily behind her.
The church was empty; alone, the confessional of Saint Joseph was still
occupied by a penitent, the edge of whose black dress was just seen as
one passed.
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