were watching her, staring at her and whispering as she passed.
The church was a refuge, despite the crowd that filled it and despite the excitement provoked by her presence. Every one was astounded at her youthfulness, dazzled by her beauty. When she walked down the nave again, a murmur of admiration rippled through the rows of worshippers. But, when she reached the holy-water basin, an incident occurred that delayed her for a few seconds. Three men had rushed forward. And, with one movement, three hands were dipped into the marble basin and held out to her. She lowered her veil and went on.
Outside the church, the crowd stood waiting for her. Gilberte hurried along, feeling her shyness returning in the sunlight. Her one idea was to get back to the Logis, back into the shade. But there was a pastry-cook's shop at the end of the high-street; she caught sight of the window crammed
