The left hand of this terrible Catholic, which lay on the outside of the bed, will complete this sketch of his character.
Stretched out as if to guard the countess, as a miser guards his hoard, that enormous hand was covered with hair so thick, it presented such a network of veins and projecting muscles, that it gave the idea of a branch of birch clasped with a growth of yellowing ivy.
Children looking at the count's face would have thought him an ogre, terrible tales of whom they knew by heart.

It was enough to see the width and length of the space occupied by the count in the bed, to imagine his gigantic proportions.

When awake, his gray eyebrows hid his eyelids in a way to heighten the light of his eye, which glittered with the luminous ferocity of a wolf skulking on the watch in a forest.

Under his lion nose, with its flaring nostrils, a large and ill-kept moustache (for he despised all toilet niceties) completely concealed the upper lip.

Happily for the countess, her husband's wide mouth was silent at this moment, for the softest sounds of that harsh voice made her tremble.