A sense of this truth kept Monsieur and Madame d'Hauteserre and the abbe from the slightest fear of any unworthy result on the part of the brothers or of Laurence.
This private drama, secretly developing within the limits of the family life where each member watched it silently, ran its course so rapidly and withal so slowly, it carried with it so many unhoped-for pleasures, trifling jars, frustrated fancies, hopes reversed, anxious waitings, delayed explanations and mute avowals that the dwellers at Cinq-Cygne paid no attention to the public drama of the Emperor's coronation.

At times these passions made a truce and sought distraction in the violent enjoyment of hunting, when weariness of body took from the soul all occasions to wander in the dangerous meadows of reverie.

Neither Laurence nor her cousins had a thought now for public affairs; each day brought its palpitating and absorbing interests for their hearts.
"Really," said Mademoiselle Goujet one evening, "I don't know which of all the lovers loves the most." Adrien, who happened to be alone in the salon with the four card-players, raised his eyes and turned pale.

For the last few days his only hold on life had been the pleasure of seeing Laurence and of listening to her.
"I think," said the abbe, "that the countess, being a woman, loves with the greater abandonment to love." Laurence, the twins, and Robert entered the room soon after.

The newspapers had just arrived.