"A low forehead."
"Wall-eyed."
"Furtive looking."
"A crow's-foot on his temple."
"High cheek-bones, red and shiny."
"His ears were ragged."
"His face was blank and expressionless."
"It was only by his hands, which were constantly moving, that you divined his thoughts."
"Thin, rather bent, weak in appearance."
"In reality of unusual strength."
"He could easily bend a five-franc piece between his thumb and forefinger."
"His thumb was huge."
"He spoke with a drawl."
"His tone was unctuous."
Suddenly Monsieur Bergeret cried eagerly:
"Zoé! We have forgotten his yellow hair and his scant beard. We must begin again."
Pauline had been listening with astonishment to this strange recital. She asked her father and her aunt how they had come to learn this prose passage by heart, and why they recited it like a Litany.
Monsieur Bergeret replied gravely:
"Pauline, what you have just heard is the sacred text, I may say the liturgy of the Bergeret family.
