Madame—Not more than before. I never cared to meet priests elsewhere than at church.
Her Friend—Come, you are frivolous, and if I did not know you better— but do you not like to meet the Abbe Gelon?
Madame—Ah! the Abbe Gelon, that is quite different. He is charming.
Her Friend—(briskly)—His manners are so distingue.
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.