Her round face although not pretty was a very pleasant one, with a beautifully fresh complexion and clear, intelligent eyes which lent her a smiling, modest air.
When the _Magnificat_ had been sung, Pierre was unable to resist his desire to question Sophie.

A child of her age, with so candid an air, so utterly unlike a liar, greatly interested him.
"And so you nearly missed the train, my child ?" he said.
"I should have been much ashamed if I had, Monsieur l'Abbe," she replied.
"I had been at the station since twelve o'clock.

And all at once I saw his reverence, the priest of Sainte-Radegonde, who knows me well and who called me to him, to kiss me and tell me that it was very good of me to go back to Lourdes.

But it seems the train was starting and I only just had time to run on to the platform.

Oh! I ran so fast!" She paused, laughing, still slightly out of breath, but already repenting that she had been so giddy.
"And what is your name, my child ?" asked Pierre.
"Sophie Couteau, Monsieur l'Abbe." "You do not belong to the town of Poitiers ?" "Oh no! certainly not.