Around me the women and young girls especially elbowed and wriggled their way to the front, and shuddered, and were glad.
They cut the throats of the beasts, the big and the little, amid absolute and religious silence, the silence of a sacrament.

Madame Lacaille vibrated from head to foot.

Marie was calm, but there was a gleam in her eyes; and little Marthe, who was hanging on to me, dug her nails into my arm.

The prince was prominent on our side, watching the last act of the run.

He had remained in the saddle.