“But the three sides of the triangle are not each the triangle; these three faculties of the soul do not make three souls, and your persons of the Trinity are three Gods.”
“Blasphemy!”
“So then there is only one person, one God, one substance affected in three ways!”
“Let us adore without understanding,” said the curé.
“Be it so,” said Bouvard. He was afraid of being taken for an atheist, and getting into bad odour at the château.
They now visited there three times a week, about five o’clock in winter, and the cup of tea warmed them. The count’s manners recalled the ease of the ancient court; the countess, placid and plump, exhibited much discernment about everything. Mademoiselle Yolande, their daughter, was the type of the young person, the angel of “keepsakes”; and Madame de Noares, their lady companion, resembled Pécuchet in having a pointed nose like him.
The first time they entered the drawing-room she was defending somebody.
“I assure you he is changed. His gift is a proof of it.”
This somebody was Gorju. He had made the betrothed couple an offer of a Gothic prie-dieu. It was brought. The arms of the two houses appeared on it in coloured relief. M. de Mahurot seemed satisfied with it, and Madame de Noares said to him:
“You will remember my protégés?”