Every morning at sunrise she put on her hat and went to the ancient church of San Crisogono, which is served by Trinitarian monks.

Sometimes Madame Bernard went with her, but more often she was accompanied by the one woman-servant who cooked and did the housework.
The unhappy girl found neither consolation nor hope in the daily service; she went to it because, somehow, it seemed to be the only thing she could do for the dead.

She knelt down every day on the same spot, and remained kneeling till after the priest and the acolyte were gone; she took her missal with her, but never looked at it, and her lips never moved in prayer; she felt no impulse to go to confession, nor any devotional craving for the Communion.

The mass was a mere form to her, but she attended it regularly, as if she expected that much of herself and would not do less than the least that seemed to be her duty.

That was all.