obtaining any benefit from it, for the old maid was too ill to
see her. She then asked politely to speak to the vicar-general.

Gratified, no doubt, to receive in Chapeloud's library, at the corner of
the fireplace above which hung the two contested pictures, the woman
who had hitherto ignored him, Troubert kept the baroness waiting a moment
before he consented to admit her. No courtier and no diplomatist ever
put into a discussion of their personal interests or into the management
of some great national negotiation more shrewdness, dissimulation, and
ability than the baroness and the priest displayed when they met face to
face for the struggle.

Like the seconds or sponsors who in the Middle Age armed the champion,
and strengthened his valor by useful counsel until he entered the lists,
so the sly old fox had said to the baroness at the last moment: "Don't
forget your cue. You are a mediator, and not an interested party.
Troubert also is a mediator. Weigh your words; study the inflection of
the man's voice. If he strokes his chin you have got him."

Some sketchers are fond of caricaturing the contrast often observable
between "what is said" and "what is thought" by the speaker. To catch
the full meaning of the duel of words which now took place between the
priest and the lady, it is necessary to unveil the thoughts that each
hid from the other under spoken sentences of apparent insignificance.
Madame de Listomere began by expressing the regret she had felt at
Birotteau's lawsuit; and then went on to speak of her desire to settle
the matter to the satisfaction of both parties.

"The harm is done, madame," said the priest, in a grave voice. "The
pious and excellent Mademoiselle Gamard is dying." ("I don't care a fig
for the old thing," thought he, "but I mean to put her death on your
shoulders and harass your conscience if you are such a fool as to listen
to it.")

"On hearing of her illness," replied the baroness, "I entreated Monsieur
Birotteau to relinquish his claims; I have brought the document,
intending to give it to that excellent woman." ("I see what you mean,
you wily scoundrel," thought she, "but we are safe now from your
calumnies. If you take this document you'll cut your own fingers by
admitting you are an accomplice.")

There was silence for a moment.

"Mademoiselle Gamard's temporal affairs do not concern me," said the
priest at last, lowering the large lids over his eagle eyes to veil his
emotio