CHAPTER v

A NTOINE MARTEL, Cure of Saint Loup, sat at his
jfXshabby mahogany desk with his pen in his hand,
but his pen was idle. He should have been writing his
weekly sermon, but instead he was staring across at
the window through which he could glimpse an old
orange tree which was now in full bloom in his
little garden. The Cure Martel did not care much for
trees, being, on the whole, indifferent to nature, and
so while he stared across at the window, he perceived
and yet did not perceive the blossoms.
The room was humble except for its books which
covered the walls from floor to ceiling. Above a
tubular iron stove hung a cheap crucifix, while upon
the desk stood a garish statue of the Madonna. An
arm-chair, well worn and sagging in the seat, together
with one or two rush-bottom chairs completed the
furnishing of the apartment.
The Cure was a man of fifty-nine, tall, untidy, and
of an exceeding thinness. He possessed the slightly
prominent eyes which so frequently characterize
the religious. His mouth, which had once been
handsome but weak, was austere from long years of
physical repression, his teeth were discoloured and
somewhat decayed and his chin appeared dirty
because it was unshaven. For the rest, his hair was
prematurely white and his high, massive brow was
that of a scholar.
E 65