I not marry her?" inquired Julien, coloring deeply.

"Because she is not in your own class, and you would not love her enough
to overlook the disparity, if marriage became necessary."

"What do you know about it?" returned Julien, with violence. "I have no
such foolish prejudices, and the obstacles would not come from my side.
But, rest easy, Monsieur," continued he, bitterly, "the danger exists
only in the imagination of your parishioners. Reine has never cared for
me! It was Claudet she loved!"

"Hm, hm!" interjected the cure, dubiously.

"You would not doubt it," insisted de Buxieres, provoked at the Abbe's
incredulous movements of his head, "if you had seen her, as I saw her,
melt into tears when I told her of Sejournant's death. She did not
even wait until I had turned my back before she broke out in her
lamentations. My presence was of very small account. Ah! she has but too
cruelly made me feel how little she cares for me!"

"You love her very much, then?" demanded the Abbe, slyly, an almost
imperceptible smile curving his lips.

"Oh, yes! I love her," exclaimed he, impetuously; then coloring and
drooping his head. "But it is very foolish of me to betray myself, since
Reine cares nothing at all for me!"

There was a moment of silence, during which the curb took a pinch of
snuff from a tiny box of cherry wood.

"Monsieur de Buxieres;" said he, With a particularly oracular air,
"Claudet is dead, and the dead, like the absent, are always in the
wrong. But who is to say whether you are not mistaken concerning the
nature of Reine's unhappiness? I will have that cleared up this very
day. Good-night; keep quiet and behave properly."

Thereupon he took his departure, but, instead of returning to the
parsonage, he directed his steps hurriedly toward La Thuiliere.
Notwithstanding a vigorous opposition from La Guite, he made use of his
pastoral authority to penetrate into Reine's apartment, where he shut
himself up with her. What he said to her never was divulged outside the
small chamber where the interview took place. He must, however, have
found words sufficiently eloquent to soften her grief, for when he had
gone away the young girl descended to the garden with a soothed although
still melancholy mien. She remained a long time in meditation in the
thicket of roses, but her meditations had evidently no bitterness in
them, and a miraculous serenity seemed to have spread itself over her
heart like a beneficent ba