"Oh! Monsieur l'Abbe, I beg a thousand pardons. Have I said anything?
It seems to me--"

The poor old priest had heard nothing; his thoughts were elsewhere.
Already he saw, in the village streets, the Protestant pastor from the
castle stopping before each house, and slipping under the doors little
evangelical pamphlets.

Continuing his account, Paul launched into an enthusiastic description of
the mansion, which was a marvel--

"Of bad taste and ostentation," interrupted Madame de Lavardens.

"Not at all, mother, not at all; nothing startling, nothing loud. It is
admirably furnished, everything done with elegance and originality. An
incomparable conservatory, flooded with electric light; the buffet was
placed in the conservatory under a vine laden with grapes, which one
could gather by handfuls, and in the month of April! The accessories of
the cotillon cost, it appears, more than 400,000 francs. Ornaments,
'bon-bonnieres', delicious trifles, and we were begged to accept them.
For my part I took nothing, but there were many who made no scruple.
That evening Puymartin told me Mrs. Scott's history, but it was not at
all like Monsieur de Larnac's story. Roger said that, when quite little,
Mrs. Scott had been stolen from her family by some acrobats, and that her
father had found her in a travelling circus, riding on barebacked horses
and jumping through paper hoops."

"A circus-rider!" cried Madame de Lavardens, "I should have preferred
the beggar."