“How tall and lovely you are, Marie!” said he, in spite of himself.
Then Sister Hyacinthe interposed: “Hasn’t the Blessed Virgin done things well, Monsieur l’Abbé? When she takes us in hand, you see, she turns us out as fresh as roses and smelling quite as sweet.”
“Ah!” resumed Marie, “I’m so happy; I feel quite strong and well and spotless, as though I had just been born!”
All this was very delicious to Pierre. It seemed to him that the atmosphere was now truly purified of Madame Volmar’s presence. Marie filled the room with her candour, with the perfume and brightness of her innocent youth. And yet the joy he felt at the sight of pure beauty and life reflowering was not exempt from sadness. For, after all, the revolt which he had felt in the crypt, the wound of his wrecked life, must
