deception is possible.”      

       For some moments the Cure had not been listening to Paul’s discourse. They had entered a long, perfectly straight avenue, and at the end of this avenue the Cure saw a horseman galloping along.     

       “Look,” said the Cure to Paul, “your eyes are better than mine. Is not that Jean?”      

       “Yes, it is jean. I know his gray mare.”      

       Paul loved horses, and before looking at the rider looked at the horse. It was indeed Jean, who, when he saw in the distance the Cure and Paul de Lavardens, waved in the air his kepi adorned with two golden stripes. Jean was lieutenant in the regiment of artillery quartered at Souvigny.     

       Some moments after he stopped by the little carriage, and, addressing the Cure, said:     

       “I have just been to your house, ‘mon parrain’. Pauline told me that you had gone to Souvigny about the sale. Well, who has bought the castle?”      

       “An American, Mrs. Scott.”      

       “And Blanche-Couronne?”      

       “The same, Mrs. Scott.”      

       “And La Rozeraie?”      

       “Mrs. Scott again.”      

       “And the forest? Mrs. Scott again?”      

       “You have said it,” replied Paul, “and I know Mrs. Scott, and I can promise you that there will be something going on at Longueval. I will introduce you. Only it is distressing to Monsieur l’Abbe because she is an American—a Protestant.”      

       “Ah! that is true,” said Jean, sympathizingly. “However, we will talk about it to-morrow. I am going to dine with you, godfather; I have warned Pauline of my visit; no time to stop to-day. I am on duty, and must be in quarters at three o’clock.”      

       “Stables?” asked Paul.     

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