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Updated: June 9, 2025


She tried to imagine Durtal clean-shaven, and she concluded with a laugh, "I do not think it will improve his beauty." "Oh, these women!" said the Abbé, shrugging his shoulders. "And what, in short," asked she, "may we hope for from this journey?" "It is not of me that you should ask that, Madame Bavoil." "Very true," said she, and clasping her hands she murmured, "It depends on Thee!

As they went in, they found Madame Bavoil at the foot of the stairs, her arms in a tub full of soap-suds. As she rubbed the clothes, she turned to look at Durtal, and, as if she could read his thoughts, she mildly asked, "Why, our friend, wear such a graveyard face when you took the Sacrament this morning?" "So you heard I had been to Communion?" Well, shall I tell you the truth?

Madame Bavoil, as being used to convent ways, pushed open the door which stood ajar, and Durtal saw before him a paved walk between strips of river pebbles, dividing a garden stocked with fruit-trees and geraniums. Two yews, clipped into spheres, with a cross on the top of each, gave this priestly close a graveyard flavour. The path led upwards, cut into steps.

"Well, if you are homesick for that particular walk, you have only to take a train, and spend a whole afternoon lounging by the parapet over the river; it is easy to get from Chartres to Paris; there are express trains morning and evening which make the journey in less than two hours." "And besides," cried Madame Bavoil, "what does all that matter?

Madame Bavoil stopped at a door under a round arch in an immense wall, which not far off ran against the embankment, forming an impassable angle; it was built of millstone grit of the colour of burnt almonds, like that used for the Paris reservoirs; here dwelt the nuns of Saint Theresa.

"And do you suppose that I have not blamed myself for my cowardice of heart?" They walked on in silence. When they reached the cathedral, Madame Bavoil proposed that they should pay a visit to Notre Dame du Pilier.

"The dove!" cried Madame Bavoil, who was changing the plates; "she plays a beautiful part in the story of Noah's Ark. Ah! our friend, you should hear what Mother Jeanne de Matel says of her." "What does she say, Madame Bavoil?"

Besides, if I were in difficulties, would not my Friends Above come to advise me?" "You are a wonderful woman, Madame Bavoil," said Durtal, somewhat disconcerted in spite of himself by the answers of a cook who so calmly asserted that she was on intimate terms with the divine Beyond. It rained without ceasing. Durtal breakfasted under the assiduous watchfulness of his servant, Madame Mesurat.

He went up again comforted nevertheless, accusing himself of ingratitude, and asking himself how he could dream of leaving Chartres and going away from the Virgin, with whom he could thus so easily converse in solitude whenever he would. On other days, when it was fine, he would take for the object of his walk a convent whose existence had been revealed to him by Madame Bavoil.

"There," said he, tracing the cruciform outline of a church on the ground, "there you have the plan of our cathedral. Supposing now we build it, beginning at the end, the apse; there we naturally place the Lady chapel, as we find it in most cathedrals. "Plants emblematic of Our Lady's attributes are abundant." "The mystical rose of the Litanies!" exclaimed Madame Bavoil.

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