Madame—­And respectful.  His white hair is such an admirable frame for his pale face, which is so full of unction.

Her Friend—­Oh! yes, he has unction, and his looks—­those sweetly softened looks!  The other day, when he was speaking on the mediation of Christ, he was divine.  At one moment he wiped away a tear; he was no longer master of his emotions; but he grew calm almost immediately—­his power of self-command is marvellous; then he went on quietly, but the emotion in turn had overpowered us.  It was electrifying.  The Countess de S., who was near me, was bubbling like a spring, under her yellow bonnet.

Madame—­Ah! yes, I have seen that yellow bonnet.  What a sight that Madame de S. is!

Her Friend—­The truth is, she is always dressed like an applewoman.  A bishopric has been offered these messieurs, I know, on good authority; my husband had it from De l’Euvre.  Well—­

Madame—­(interrupting her)—­A bishopric offered to Madame de S. It was wrong to do so.

Her Friend—­You make fun of everything, my dear; there are, however, some subjects which should be revered.  I tell you that the mitre and the ring have been offered to the Abby Gelon.  Well, he refused them.  God knows, however, that the pastoral ring would well become his hand.

Madame—­Oh! yes, he has a lovely hand.

Her Friend—­He has a white, slender, and aristocratic hand.  Perhaps it is a wrong for us to dwell on these worldly details, but after all his hand is really beautiful.  Do you know (enthusiastically) I find that the Abbe Gelon compels love of religion?  Were you ever present at his lectures?

Madame—­I was at the first one.  I would have gone again on Thursday, but Madame Savain came to try on my bodice and I had a protracted discussion with her about the slant of the skirts.

Her Friend—­Ah! the skirts are cut slantingly.

Madame—­Yes, yes, with little cross-bars, which is an idea of my own—­I have not seen it anywhere else; I think it will not look badly.

Her Friend—­Madame Savain told me that you had suppressed the shoulders of the corsage.

Madame—­Ah! the gossip!  Yes, I will have nothing on the shoulders but a ribbon, a trifle, just enough to fasten a jewel to—­I was afraid that the corsage would look a little bare.  Madame Savain had laid on, at intervals, some ridiculous frippery.  I wanted to try something else—­my plan of crossbars, there and then—­and I missed the dear Abbe Gelon’s lecture.  He was charming, it seems.

Her Friend—­Oh! charming.  He spoke against bad books; there was a large crowd.  He demolished all the horrible opinions of Monsieur Renan.  What a monster that man is!

Madame—­You have read his book?

Her Friend—­Heaven forbid!  Don’t you know it is impossible for one to find anything more—­well, it must be very bad ‘Messieurs de l’OEuvre’ for the Abbe Gelon, in speaking to one of these friends of my husband, uttered the word——­