Madame de Lescure did not like calling at the priest's house without being announced, and she therefore desired Chapeau to go down and explain who she was, and the circumstances under which she begged for the Cure's hospitality, and proposed that she and Marie should get off their horses, and remain in the chapel till Chapeau returned.
They entered the little chapel, and found in it about a dozen peasants on their knees, while a priest was chaunting the vespers from a small side altar, built in a niche in the wall.

It was now late, and the light, which even abroad was growing dimmer every moment, was still less strong within the building.

They could not, therefore, see the face of the priest as he knelt at the side of the altar, but the voice seemed familiar to both of them.
Madame de Lescure, perhaps as much from fatigue as from devotion, sank down at once upon her knees against a little stone seat which projected from the wall near the door, but Marie remained standing, straining her eyes to try to catch the features of the Cure.

After a moment or two she also knelt down, and said in a whisper to her sister, "It is the Cure of St.Laud--it is our own Father Jerome." They had hardly been a minute or two in their position near the door, when the service for the evening was over, and the priest, rising from the altar, gave his blessing to the little congregation.

Some of them rose from their knees and left the chapel, but a portion of them still remained kneeling, with their heads in their hands, trying to make up, by the length and perseverance of their devotion, for any deficiency there might be in its fervour.