Face to face with his father, who, motionless, appeared in his fearful silence to grow taller and taller, he uttered unfilial, almost murderous words.
Then, shocked at himself, he rushed away, shuddering at the extent to which passion had carried him.
When once more alone, Monseigneur, as if stabbed in the full breast by a sharp weapon, turned back upon himself and struggled deeply with his soul, as he knelt upon his prie-Dieu.

A half-rattling sound came from his throat.

Oh! these frightful heart contests, these invincible weaknesses of the flesh.

This woman, and his beloved dead, who was constantly coming back to life, he adored her now, as he did the first evening when he kissed her white feet; and this son, he idolised him as belonging to her, as a part of her life, which she had left to him.

And even the young girl, the little working girl whom he had repulsed, he loved her also with a tenderness like that of his son for her.