quite silver, was certainly very pale gold. He scented his waistcoat and slipped on his finger an elaborately chased ring.
"It may come in useful when conversation begins to flag."
He was about to begin his meditations, when somebody knocked at the door. Luncheon was ready.
M. Des Boys, despite the disturbance of his plans, seemed pleased. A drive, he declared, would do him good. He needed an outing; besides he had a right to one.
"I have just finished the ninth panel of my life of Saint Clotilde. It is her entry into the monastery of Saint Martin at Tours."
M. Hervart manifested an interest in this composition, which he had admired the previous evening before it had been given the final touches. He hoped to see it soon in its proper frame, with the other panels in Robinvast church.
"There are going to be twelve in all," said M. Des Boys.
"People will come and see them as they do the Life of St. Bruno that used to be at the Chartreux and is now in the Louvre."
