"All was somber, grim, and silent in this mass thus celebrated and ministered by the dead. The candles cast a feeble light like that of a dying lamp. At the moment when the bell of the '_Sanctus_,' striking with a dull sound, as when a bone is broken by the grave-digger in some old cemetery, announced the descent of Christ upon the altar, the door of the sacristy opened anew and admitted a procession of little children, marching two and two, who traversed the choir and filed into the space to the right of the altar. These children, the oldest of whom had had scarce six years of life upon earth, wore crowns of immortelles and carried in their hands, some of them baskets of flowers, some of them little vases of perfume, others cups of gold and silver filled with a transparent liquid. They stepped lightly, and a celestial rapture shone upon their faces. One only, a little girl at the end of the procession, appeared to follow the others painfully, loaded down as she was with two great jars which she could hardly drag. Her little feet, reddening under the pressure, were lifted heavily, and her crown of immortelles seemed withered. The poor mother strove to reach out her arms, to utter a cry of joy on recognizing her own little one, but she found that she could neither move nor speak. She watched all the children file past her into the place to the left of the altar, and she recognized several who had but lately died. When her own child, bending under her burden, passed before her, she noticed that at every step the two jars besprinkled the floor with the water that filled them to the brim. When the little one's eyes met those of her mother, she saw in their depths a mingling of sadness, tenderness, and reproach. The poor woman strove to clasp her in her arms, but sight and consciousness alike fled from her. When she recovered from her swoon the church was empty. "In a monastery about a league from the village, dwelt a monk who was renowned for his sanctity. "This old man never left his cell, save to listen with sympathy to the bitter confessions of sinners, or to succor the afflicted. To the first he said: "'I know the corruptness of man's nature, so be not cast down; come to me with confidence and courage every time you fall, and my arms shall ever be open to lift you up again.' "To the second he said: 'Since God, who is so good, lays this burden upon you now, he is reserving you for infinite joys hereafter.' "To all he said: 'If I should confess to you the story of my life, you would be astonished to behold in me a man who has been the sport of unbridled passion, and my misfortunes would melt you to tears.' "The poor mother threw herself sobbing at his feet, and told him the marvelous thing she had seen. The compassionate old man, who had sounded the depths of the human heart, beheld here a favorable opportunity to set bounds to this excessive anguish.