Black/White

     "No, no, Mme Octave, they like it well enough. They'll be coming back from church soon as hungry as hunters, and they won't turn their noses up at their asparagus, you'll see."
     "Church! Why, they must be there now; you'd better not lose any time. Go and look after your lunch."
     While my aunt was gossiping on in this way with Françoise I accompanied my parents to mass.

It was Françoise, motionless and erect, framed in the small doorway of the corridor like the statue of a saint in its niche. When we had grown more accustomed to this religious darkness we could discern in her features the disinterested love of humanity, the tender respect for the gentry, which the hope of receiving New Year bounty intensified in the nobler regions of her heart.