the assembly through a gold eyeglass,
with the little finger turning up; finally, while smoothing down the
satin folds of a dress difficult to keep in place, they scatter, right
and left, charming little recognitions and delightful little smiles.

"Are you comfortable, dear?"

"Quite, thanks. Do you see in front there, between the two tapers, Louise
and Madame de C-------? Is it allowable in any one to come to church got
up like that?"

"Oh! I have never believed much in the piety of Madame de C-------. You
know her history--the story of the screen? I will tell it you later. Ah!
there is the verger."

The verger shows his bald head in the pulpit of truth. He arranges the
seat, adjusts the kneeling-stool, then withdraws and allows the Abbe
Gelon, who is somewhat pale from Lenten fasting, but striking, as he
always is, in dignity, elegance, and unction. A momentary flutter passes
through the congregation, then they settle down comfortably. The noise
dies away, and all eyes are eagerly looking toward the face of the
preacher. With his eyes turned to heaven, the latter stands upright and
motionless; a light from above may be divined in his inspired look; his
beautiful, white hands, encircled at the wrists by fine lace, are
carelessly placed on the red velvet cushion of the pulpit. He waits a few
moments, coughs twice, unfolds his handkerchief, deposits his square hat
in a corner, and, bending forward, lets fall from his lips in those sweet
slow, persuasive tones, by which he is known, the first words of his
sermon, "Ladies!"

With this single word he has already won all hearts. Slowly he casts over
his audience a mellow glance, which penetrates and attracts; then, having
uttered a few Latin words which he has the tact to translate quickly into
French, he continues:

"What is it to abstain? Why should we abstain? How should we abstain?
Those are the three points, ladies, I shall proceed to discuss."

He blows his nose, coughs; a holy thrill stirs every heart. How will he
treat this magnificent subject? Let us listen.

Is it not true, Madame, that your heart is piously stirred, and that at
this moment you feel an actual thirst for abstinence and mortification?

The holy precincts are bathed in a soft obscurity, similar to that of
your boudoir, and inducing revery.

I know not how much of the ineffable and of the vaguely exhilarating
penetrates your being. But the voice of this handsome and venerated old
man has, a