e climbing
roses. He unsaddled him, fastened him in the little shed, rubbed him down
with a great handful of straw, after which he entered the house, relieved
himself of his sword and kepi, replaced the latter by an old straw hat,
value sixpence, and then went to look for his godfather in the garden.

The poor Abbe was indeed sad; he had scarcely closed an eye all night--he
who generally slept so easily, so quietly, the sound sleep of a child.
His soul was wrung. Longueval in the hands of a foreigner, of a heretic,
of an adventuress!

Jean repeated what Paul had said the evening before.

"You will have money, plenty of money, for your poor."

"Money! money! Yes, my poor will not lose, perhaps they will even gain by
it; but I must go and ask for this money, and in the salon, instead of my
old and dear friend, I shall find this red-haired American. It seems that
she has red hair! I will certainly go for the sake of my poor--I will
go--and she will give me the money, but she will give me nothing but
money; the Marquise gave me something else--her life and her heart. Every
week we went together to visit the sick and the poor; she knew all the
sufferings and the miseries of the country round, and when the gout
nailed me to my easy-chair she made the rounds alone, and as well, or
better than I."

Pauline interrupted this conversation. She carried an immense earthenware
salad-dish, on which bloomed, violent and startling, enormous red
flowers.

"Here I am," said Pauline, "I am going to cut the salad. Jean, would you
like lettuce or endive?"

"Endive," said Jean, gayly. "It is a long time since I have had any
endive."

"Well, you shall have some to-night. Stay, take the dish."

Pauline began to cut the endive, and Jean bent down to receive the leaves
in the great salad dish. The Cure looked on.

At this moment a sound of little bells was heard. A carriage was
approaching; one heard the jangling and creaking of its wheels. The
Cure's little garden was only separated from the road by a low hedge, in
the middle of which was a little trellised gate.

All three looked out, and saw driving down the road a hired carriage of
most primitive construction, drawn by two great white horses, and driven
by an old coachman in a blouse. Beside this old coachman was seated a
tall footman in livery, of the most severe and correct demeanor. In the
carriage were two young women, dressed both alike in very elegant, but
very simple, tra