“Two years ago,” resumed the priest, “at the time when the civil oath was required from the clergy, and the religious houses were ordered to be dissolved, I was chaplain of a convent at Coutances, in Normandy. For some while I had cast my eyes upon one of the novices who had pleased me much, but the rules of the Order were strict, and opportunities for intercourse were rare. But on the dissolution of that particular house I immediately addressed myself to Sister Louise, offering her the honourable form of a civil marriage, and pointing out that a worse fate might easily befall her. It only took a year to convince her. I married her, and, on the whole,” he said, with a patronising nod, “we have found her fairly submissive, and likely in time to become a good _citoyenne_. I come now to the point of my discourse. Last month I was appointed to the living of Tregourez. When the news of our arrival reached the village, a crowd of men and women, instigated by their former curé, who had taken refuge in the _ci-devant_ château of the _ci-devant_ seigneur, came out to meet us, howling round the diligence and brandishing weapons. They did not, however, attempt any violence upon our persons, but that night the windows were broken, and all our personal property taken from us except a few clothes. The next day we made our escape, and have walked to Paris. Citizens, you see our plight; you see how we have suffered on behalf of liberty and freedom. Now that you have heard my story, I appeal to a beneficent legislature to grant me compensation, and I demand that the nation shall avenge my wrongs!” A burst of applause drowned the curé’s last words. When it had subsided the President was heard to say that the nation was not insensible to the sufferings of such a champion of its liberties, but that, as it was already late, he must pass on the petitioner to the Committee of Liquidation. The curé made as if he would embark upon a voluble expression of gratitude, but at a motion from the President he was captured by an usher, and forced to cut short his harangue, and the party moved across the oval to the door at the farther end. Some of the deputies stopped them to offer their congratulations to the happy father, while others cast admiring glances at the unfortunate girl-mother, who came last in the sad little procession.