Things will arrange themselves." They instituted a search in the churches of the neighborhood.

All the magnificence of these humble parishes combined would not have sufficed to clothe the chorister of a cathedral properly.
While they were thus embarrassed, a large chest was brought and deposited in the presbytery for the Bishop, by two unknown horsemen, who departed on the instant.

The chest was opened; it contained a cope of cloth of gold, a mitre ornamented with diamonds, an archbishop's cross, a magnificent crosier,--all the pontifical vestments which had been stolen a month previously from the treasury of Notre Dame d'Embrun.

In the chest was a paper, on which these words were written, "From Cravatte to Monseigneur Bienvenu." "Did not I say that things would come right of themselves ?" said the Bishop.

Then he added, with a smile, "To him who contents himself with the surplice of a curate, God sends the cope of an archbishop." "Monseigneur," murmured the cure, throwing back his head with a smile.
"God--or the Devil." The Bishop looked steadily at the cure, and repeated with authority, "God!" When he returned to Chastelar, the people came out to stare at him as at a curiosity, all along the road.