But for the extreme pallor of his skin, which doubtless had its origin in the constant mortification of the flesh, he would have been a singularly handsome man.

His features were elegantly designed, but it was evident that melancholy had recast them in a serious mold.

His face was clean-shaven, and his hair clipped, close to the skull.

There was something eminently noble in the loftiness of the forehead, and at the same time there was something subtly cruel in the turn of the nether lip, as though the spirit and the flesh were constantly at war.
He was young, possibly not older than the Chevalier, who was thirty.
The priest, as if feeling the Chevalier's scrutiny, raised his eyes.
As their glances met, casually in the way of gratifying a natural curiosity, both men experienced a mental disturbance which was at once strange and annoying.

Those large, penetrating grey eyes; each seemed to be looking into his own as in a mirror.
The Chevalier was first to disembarrass himself.