"What you choose to give is for the community, and for this church, and for the chapel of Saint Helen.
It is better that you know." Ercole drew the mouth of the purse together again and returned it to the inside of his waistcoat, from which he produced a large old leathern pocket-book.
"I will give five francs," he said, "for I know that if you say the masses yourself, they will be all good ones." A very faint and gentle smile flitted over the aged face.

Ercole held out the small note, and the monk took it.
"Thank you," he said.

"Shall I say the masses for a man or a woman ?" "As it pleases you, father," Ercole answered.
"Eh ?" The old monk looked surprised.
"It does not matter," Ercole explained.

"Is not a mass for a man good for a woman also ?" "We say 'his' soul or 'her' soul, as the case may be, my son." "Is that written in the book of the mass ?" inquired Ercole distrustfully.
"Yes.

Also, most people tell us the baptismal name of the dead person." "Must I do that too ?" Ercole asked, by no means pleased.
"Not unless you like," the monk answered, looking at him with some curiosity.
"But it is in the book of the mass that you must say 'his' or 'her' soul ?" "Yes." "Then the masses will not be good unless you say the right word." Ercole paused a moment in deep thought, and looked down at his hat.