Dutheil suddenly startled Veronique with a priestly glance.

"Do you regret nothing in Limoges?" he asked her.

"Nothing, now that you are leaving it; and monsieur," she added,
smiling at Grossetete, who was bidding her adieu, "will seldom be
there."

The bishop accompanied Madame Graslin as far as Montegnac.

"I ought to walk this road in sackcloth and ashes," she said in her
mother's ear as they went on foot up the steep slope of Saint-Leonard.

The old woman put her finger on her lips and glanced at the bishop,
who was looking at the child with terrible attention. This gesture,
and the luminous look in the prelate's eyes, sent a shudder through
Veronique's body. At the aspect of the vast plains stretching their
gray expanse before Montegnac the fire died out of her eyes, and an
infinite sadness overcame her. Presently she saw the village rector
coming to meet her, and together they returned to the carriage.

"There is your domain, madame," said Monsieur Bonnet, extending his
hand toward the barren plain.

A few moments more, and the village of Montegnac, with its hill, on
which the newly erected buildings struck the eye, came in sight,
gilded by the setting sun, and full of the poesy born of the contrast
between the beautiful spot and the surrounding barrenness, in which it
lay like an oasis in the desert. Madame Graslin's eyes filled suddenly
with tears. The rector called her attention to a broad white line like