Then there were the bread and the wine, the branches of the olive and the palm.

The silent cemetery was filled with a faint aroma of incense, noticed by Dorsenne on entering.

High mass, celebrated in the morning, left the sacred perfume diffused among those bones, once the forms of human beings who kneeled there amid the same holy aroma.

The contrast was strong between that spot, where everything spoke of things eternal, and the drama of passion, worldly and culpable, the progress of which agitated even Dorsenne.

At that moment he appeared to himself in the light of a profaner, although he was obeying generous and humane instincts.