It isn't she, but who on earth is it ?" He continued to revolve the question, without coming any nearer a solution.

Again he called before his eyes the image of this woman, and admitted that she was really potently seductive, with a fresh, girlish body, flexible, and without a lot of repugnant flesh--and mysterious, with her concentrated air, her plaintive eyes, and even her coldness, real or feigned.
He summarized all that he really knew about her: simply that she was a widow when she married Chantelouve, that she had no children, that her first husband, a manufacturer of chasubles, had, for unknown reasons, committed suicide.

That was all.

On the other hand, too, too much was known about Chantelouve! Author of a history of Poland and the cabinets of the north; of a history of Boniface VIII and his times; a life of the blessed Jeanne de Valois, founder of the Annonciade; a biography of the Venerable Mother Anne de Xaintonge, teacher of the Company of Saint Ursula; and other books of the same kind, published by Lecoffre, Palme, Poussielgue, in the inevitable shagreen or sheep bindings stamped with dendriform patterns: Chantelouve was preparing his candidacy for the Academie des Inscriptions et Belles-Lettres, and hoped for the support of the party of the Ducs.

That was why he received influential hypocrites, provincial Tartufes, and priests every week.