The idea of an unknown Venot, a gigantic Venot, acting for the whole body of the clergy, struck them in the light of a comical invention.

But they were silenced when, still leaning on the old man's arm, Count Muffat reappeared with blanched cheeks and eyes reddened as if by recent weeping.
"I bet they've been chatting about hell," muttered Fauchery in a bantering tone.
The Countess Sabine overheard the remark.

She turned her head slowly, and their eyes met in that long gaze with which they were accustomed to sound one another prudently before venturing once for all.
After the breakfast it was the guests' custom to betake themselves to a little flower garden on a terrace overlooking the plain.

This Sunday afternoon was exquisitely mild.

There had been signs of rain toward ten in the morning, but the sky, without ceasing to be covered, had, as it were, melted into milky fog, which now hung like a cloud of luminous dust in the golden sunlight.