ent as her sister, the same large eyes--black,
laughing, and gay-and the same hair, not red, but fair, with golden
shades, where daintily danced the light of the sun. She bowed to Jean
with a pretty little smile, and he, having returned to Pauline the
salad dish full of endive, went to look for the two little bags.
Meanwhile-much agitated, sorely disturbed--the Abbe Constantin
introduced into his vicarage the new Chatelaine of Longueval.

CHAPTER III. DELIGHTFUL SURPRISES

This vicarage of Longueval was far from being a palace. The same
apartment on the ground floor served for dining and drawing-room,
communicating directly with the kitchen by a door, which stood always
wide open. This room was furnished in the most scanty manner; two old
arm chairs, six straw chairs, a sideboard, a round table. Pauline had
already laid the cloth for the dinner of the Abbe and Jean.

Mrs. Scott and Miss Percival went and came, examining the domestic
arrangements of the Cure with a sort of childish wonder.

"But the garden, the house, everything is charming," said Mrs. Scott.

They both boldly penetrated into the kitchen; the Abbe Constantin
followed them, scared, bewildered, stupefied at the suddenness and
resolution of this American invasion.

Old Pauline, with an anxious and gloomy air, examined the two
foreigners.

"There they are, then," she said to herself, "these Protestants, these
accursed heretics!"

"I must compliment you," said Bettina; "it is so beautifully kept. Look,
Susie, is not the vicarage altogether exactly what you wished?"

"And so is the Cure," rejoined Mrs. Scott. "Yes, Monsieur le Cure, if
you will permit me to say so, you do not know how happy it makes me to
find you just what you are. In the railway carriage what did I say to
you, Bettina? And again just now, when we were driving here?"

"My sister said to me, Monsieur le Cure, that what she desired above
everything was a priest, not young, or melancholy, or severe; but one
with white hair and a kind and gentle manner. And that is exactly what
you are, Monsieur le Cure, exactly. No, we could not have been more
fortunate. Excuse me for speaking to you in this manner; the Parisians
know how to make pretty phrases, but I do not, and in speaking French I
should often be quite at a loss if I did not say everything in a simple
and childish way, as it comes into my head. In a word, I am satisfied,
quite satisfied, and I hope that you, too, Monsieur le