The two former ones had re-echoed far and wide, and so what is called "all Paris" was there--women of society, politicians, and writers, who were captivated by the speaker's artistic oratory, his warm, skilful language, and his broad, easy gestures, worthy of a great actor.
Pierre did not wish to disturb the solemn attention, the quivering silence above which the prelate's voice alone rang out.

Accordingly he resolved to wait before seeking Abbe Rose, and remained standing near a pillar.

A parting gleam of daylight fell obliquely on Monseigneur Martha, who looked tall and sturdy in his white surplice, and scarcely showed a grey hair, although he was more than fifty.

He had handsome features: black, keen eyes, a commanding nose, a mouth and chin of the greatest firmness of contour.

What more particularly struck one, however, what gained the heart of every listener, was the expression of extreme amiability and anxious sympathy which ever softened the imperious haughtiness of the prelate's face.
Pierre had formerly known him as Cure, or parish priest, of Ste.
Clotilde.