Her Friend--(placing her hand over hey mouth)--Be quiet, be quiet; it is too bad; and in Lent, too! Madame--Well, but of whose son are you speaking? Her Friend--Of Ernestine’s son, don’t you know, Albert, a picture of innocence. He heard your husband’s pleasantry, and his mother was vexed. Madame--My dear, I really don’t know to what you refer. Please tell me all about it. Hey Friend--Well, on entering the drawing-room, and perceiving the candelabra lit up, and the two Abbe’s standing at that moment in the middle of the room, your husband appeared as if looking for something, and when Ernestine asked him what it was, he said aloud: “I am looking for the holy-water; please, dear neighbor, excuse me for coming in the middle of the service.” Madame--Is it possible? (Laughing.) The fact is, he can not get out of it; he has met the two Abbes, twice running, at Ernestine’s. Her drawing-room is a perfect sacristy. Hey Friend (dryly)--A sacristy! How regardless you are getting in your language since your marriage, dear. Madame--Not more than before. I never cared to meet priests elsewhere than at church. Her Friend--Come, you are frivolous, and if I did not know you better--but do you not like to meet the Abbe Gelon? Madame--Ah! the Abbe Gelon, that is quite different. He is charming. Her Friend--(briskly)--His manners are so distingue. Madame--And respectful. His white hair is such an admirable frame for his pale face, which is so full of unction. Her Friend--Oh! yes, he has unction, and his looks--those sweetly softened looks! The other day, when he was speaking on the mediation of Christ, he was divine. At one moment he wiped away a tear; he was no longer master of his emotions; but he grew calm almost immediately--his power of self-command is marvellous; then he went on quietly, but the emotion in turn had overpowered us. It was electrifying. The Countess de S., who was near me, was bubbling like a spring, under her yellow bonnet. Madame--Ah! yes, I have seen that yellow bonnet. What a sight that Madame de S. is! Her Friend--The truth is, she is always dressed like an applewoman. A bishopric has been offered these messieurs, I know, on good authority; my husband had it from De l’Euvre. Well-- Madame--(interrupting her)--A bishopric offered to Madame de S. It was wrong to do so. Her Friend--You make fun of everything, my dear; there are, however, some subjects which should be revered. I tell you that the mitre and the ring have been offered to the Abby Gelon. Well, he refused them. God knows, however, that the pastoral ring would well become his hand. Madame--Oh! yes, he has a lovely hand. Her Friend--He has a white, slender, and aristocratic hand. Perhaps it is a wrong for us to dwell on these worldly details, but after all his hand is really beautiful. Do you know (enthusiastically) I find that the Abbe Gelon compels love of religion? Were you ever present at his lectures?