Behind him walked the Abbe Cornille, like a simple clerk, carrying in one hand a crucifix, and under the other a book of ritual service.
Standing for a moment upon the threshold, the bishop said in a deep, grave voice: "_Pax huic domui_." ("Peace be to this house.") "_Et omnibus habitantibus in ea_," replied the priest in a lower tone.
("And to all the inhabitants thereof.") When they had entered, Hubertine, who had come up the stairs after them, she also trembling from surprise and emotion, went and knelt by the side of her husband.

Both of them prostrated themselves most humbly, and prayed fervently from the depths of their souls.
A few hours after his last visit to Angelique, Felicien had had the terrible and dreaded explanation with his father.

Early in the morning of that same day he had found open the doors, he had penetrated even into the Oratory, where the Bishop was still at prayer, after one of those nights of frightful struggling against the memories of the past, which would so constantly reappear before him.

In the soul of this hitherto always respectful son, until now kept submissive by fear, rebellion against authority, so long a time stifled, suddenly broke forth, and the collision of these two men of the same blood, with natures equally prompt to violence, was intense.

The old man had left his devotional chair, and with cheeks growing purple by degrees, he listened silently as he stood there in his proud obstinacy.