once since the prelate had taken Gabriel de Rastignac as secretary. He
had hardly seen this favorite, destined for the episcopate, though he
knew how great his influence was. Nevertheless, he behaved with a
dignified courtesy that plainly showed the sovereign independence
which the Church bestows on rectors in their parishes. But the
feelings of the young abbe, far from animating his face, gave it a
stern expression; it was more than cold, it was icy. A man capable of
changing the moral condition of a whole population must surely possess
some powers of observation, and be more or less of a physiognomist;
and even if the rector had no other science than that of goodness, he
had just given proof of rare sensibility. He was therefore struck by
the coldness with which the bishop's secretary met his courteous
advances. Compelled to attribute this manner to some secret annoyance,
the rector sought in his own mind to discover if he had wounded his
guest, or in what way his conduct could seem blameworthy in the eyes
of his superiors.

An awkward silence ensued, which the Abbe de Rastignac broke by a
speech that was full of aristocratic assumption.

"You have a very poor church, monsieur," he said.

"It is too small," replied Monsieur Bonnet. "On the great fete-days
the old men bring benches to the porch, and the young men stand
outside in a circle; but the silence is so great that all can hear my
voice."

Gabriel was silent for some moments.

"If the inhabitants are so religious how can you let the building