sehold: cook,
maid-of-all-work, treasurer, dispenser. Her hands received with a
respectful tremble these two little 'rouleaux' which represented so much
misery alleviated, so much suffering relieved.

"One thousand francs a month! But there will be no poor left in the
country."

"That is just what I wish. I am rich, very rich, and so is my sister; she
is even richer than I am, because a young girl has not so many expenses,
while I--Ah! well, I spend all that I can--all that I can. When one has a
great deal of money, too much, more than one feels to be just, tell me,
Monsieur le Cure, is there any other way of obtaining pardon than to keep
one's hands open, and give, give, give, all one can, and as usefully as
one can? Besides, you can give me something in return;" and, turning to
Pauline, "Will you be so kind as to give me a glass of water? No, nothing
else; a glass of cold water; I am dying of thirst."

"And I," said Bettina, laughing, while Pauline ran to fetch the water, "I
am dying of something else-of hunger, to tell the truth. Monsieur le
Cure--I know that I am going to be dreadfully intrusive; I see your cloth
is laid--could you not invite us to dinner?"

"Bettina!" said Mrs. Scott.

"Let me alone, Susie, let me alone. Won't you, Monsieur le Cure? I am
sure you will."

But he could find no reply. The old Cure hardly knew where he was. They
had taken his vicarage by storm; they were Catholics; they had promised
him one thousand francs a month, and now they wanted to dine with him.
Ah! that was the last stroke. Terror seized him at the thought of having
to do the honors of his leg of mutton and his custard to these two
absurdly rich Americans. He murmured:

"Dine!-you would like to dine here?"

Jean thought he must interpose again. "It would be a great pleasure to my
godfather," said he, "if you would kindly stay. But I know what disturbs
him. We were going to dine together, just the two of us, and you must not
expect a feast. You will be very indulgent?"

"Yes, yes, very indulgent," replied Bettina; then, addressing her sister,
"Come, Susie, you must not be cross, because I have been a little--you
know it is my way to be a little--Let us stay, will you? It will do us
good to pass a quiet hour here, after such a day as we have had! On the
railway, in the carriage, in the heat, in the dust; we had such a horrid
luncheon, in such a horrid hotel. We were to have returned to the same
hotel at seven o'clock t