en they met face to face for the struggle.

Like the seconds or sponsors who in the Middle Age armed the champion,
and strengthened his valor by useful counsel until he entered the
lists, so the sly old fox had said to the baroness at the last moment:
"Don't forget your cue. You are a mediator, and not an interested
party. Troubert also is a mediator. Weigh your words; study the
inflection of the man's voice. If he strokes his chin you have got
him."

Some sketchers are fond of caricaturing the contrast often observable
between "what is said" and "what is thought" by the speaker. To catch
the full meaning of the duel of words which now took place between the
priest and the lady, it is necessary to unveil the thoughts that each
hid from the other under spoken sentences of apparent insignificance.
Madame de Listomere began by expressing the regret she had felt at
Birotteau's lawsuit; and then went on to speak of her desire to settle
the matter to the satisfaction of both parties.

"The harm is done, madame," said the priest, in a grave voice. "The
pious and excellent Mademoiselle Gamard is dying." ("I don't care a
fig for the old thing," thought he, "but I mean to put her death on
your shoulders and harass your conscience if you are such a fool as to
listen to it.")

"On hearing of her illness," replied the baroness, "I entreated
Monsieur Birotteau to relinquish his claims; I have brought the
document, intending to give it to that excellent woman." ("I see what
you mean, you wily scoundrel," thought she, "but we are safe now from
your calumnies. If you take this document you'll cut your own fingers
by admitting you are an accomplice.")

There was silence for a moment.

"Mademoiselle Gamard's temporal affairs do not concern me," said the
priest at last, lowering the large lids over his eagle eyes to veil
his emotions. ("Ho! ho!" thought he, "you can't compromise me. Thank
God, those damned lawyers won't dare to plead any cause that could
smirch me. What do these Listomeres expect to get by crouching in this
way?")

"Monsieur," replied the baroness, "Monsieur Birotteau's affairs are no
more mine than those of Mademoiselle Gamard are yours; but,
unfortunately, religion is injured by such a quarrel, and I come to
you as a mediator--just as I myself am seeking to make peace." ("We
are not decieving each other, Monsieur Troubert," thought she. "Don't
you feel the sarcasm of that answer?")

"Injury to religion, madame