From the depths of this thicket of lights, the good priest murmurs the great infinite speech to us, blesses us, embraces us severally and altogether, like father and mother both.

In the manorial pew, the foremost of all, one glimpses the Marquis of Monthyon, who has the air of an officer, and his mother-in-law, Baroness Grille, who is dressed like an ordinary lady.
Emerging from church, the men go away; the women swarm out more grudgingly and come to a standstill together; then all the buzzing groups scatter.
At noon the shops close.

The fine ones do it unassisted; the others close by the antics of some good man who exerts himself to carry and fit the shutters.

Then there is a great void.
After lunch I wander in the streets.

In the house I am bored, and yet outside I do not know what to do.