Soulas' is too prominent; Monsieur de Grancey's is fine, but he is
seventy, and has no hair, it is impossible to see where his forehead
ends."

"What is the matter, Rosalie; you are eating nothing?"

"I am not hungry, mamma," said she. "A prelate's hands----" she went
on to herself. "I cannot remember our handsome Archbishop's hands,
though he confirmed me."

Finally, in the midst of her coming and going in the labyrinth of her
meditations, she remembered a lighted window she had seen from her
bed, gleaming through the trees of the two adjoining gardens, when she
had happened to wake in the night. . . . "Then that was his light!"
thought she. "I might see him!--I will see him."

"Monsieur de Grancey, is the Chapter's lawsuit quite settled?" said
Rosalie point-blank to the Vicar-General, during a moment of silence.

Madame de Watteville exchanged rapid glances with the Vicar-General.

"What can that matter to you, my dear child?" she said to Rosalie,
with an affected sweetness which made her daughter cautious for the
rest of her days.

"It might be carried to the Court of Appeal, but our adversaries will
think twice about that," replied the Abbe.

"I never could have believed that Rosalie would think about a lawsuit
all through a dinner," remarked Madame de Watteville.