The old priest was sputtering out the last words of his sermon over the
white caps of the peasant women, and the rough or pomatumed heads of the
men. The large baskets of the farmer's wives who had come from a
distance to attend mass, were on the ground beside them, and the heavy
heat of a July day caused them all to exhale a smell like that of
cattle, or of a flock of sheep, and the cocks could be heard crowing
through the large west door, which was wide open, as well as the lowing
of the cows in a neighboring field.... "As God wishes. Amen!" the priest
said. Then he ceased, opened a book, and, as he did every week, he began
to give notice of all the small parish events for the following week. He
was an old man with white hair who had been in the parish for over forty
years, and from the pulpit he was in the habit of discoursing familiarly
to them all, and so he went on: "I recommend Désiré Vallin, who is very
ill, to your prayers, and also la Paumelle, who is not recovering from
her confinement satisfactorily."

He had forgotten the rest, and so he looked for the slips of paper which
were put away in a breviary, and at last he found two and continued: "I
will not have the lads and the girls come into the churchyard in the
evening, as they do; otherwise I shall inform the rural policeman.
Monsieur Césaire Omont would like to find a respectable girl servant."
He reflected for a few moments, and then added: "That is all, my
brethren, and I wish that all of you may find the Divine mercy."

And he came down from the pulpit, to finish mass.

When the Malandains had returned to their cottage, which was the last in
the village of La Sablière, on the road to Fourville, the father, a
thin, wrinkled old peasant, sat down at the table, while his wife took
the saucepan off the fire, and Adelaide, the daughter, took the glasses