LAbbe Constantin, vol 2 | Page 6

their names, and pray
for them."
Then he made off without waiting for thanks, across the fields, through
the woods, from hamlet to hamlet, from cottage to cottage--on, on, on.
A sort of intoxication mounted to his brain. Everywhere were cries of
joy and astonishment. All these louis-d'or fell, as if by a miracle, into
the poor hands accustomed to receive little pieces of silver. The Curb
was guilty of follies, actual follies. He was out of bounds; he did not
recognize himself; he had lost all control over himself; he even gave to
those who did not expect anything.
He met Claude Rigal, the old sergeant, who had left one of his arms at
Sebastopol. He was growing gray--nay, white; for time passes, and the
soldiers of the Crimea will soon be old men.

"Here!" said the Cure, "I have twenty francs for you."
"Twenty francs? But I never asked for anything; I don't want anything;
I have my pension."
His pension! Seven hundred francs!
"But listen; it will be something to buy you cigars. It comes from
America."
And then followed the Abbe's little speech about the masters of
Longueval.
He went to a poor woman whose son had gone to Tunis.
"Well, how is your son getting on?"
"Not so bad, Monsieur le Cure; I had a letter from him yesterday. He
does not complain; he is very well; only he says there are no Kroomirs.
Poor boy! I have been saving for a month, and I think I shall soon be
able to send him ten francs."
"You shall send him thirty francs. Take this."
"Thirty francs! Monsieur le Cure, you give me thirty francs?"
"Yes, that is for you."
"For my boy?"
"For your boy. But listen; you must know from whom it comes, and
you must take care to tell your son when you write to him."
Again the little speech about the new owners of Longueval, and again
the adjuration to remember them in their prayers. At six o'clock he
returned home, exhausted with fatigue, but with his soul filled with joy.
"I have given away all," he cried, as soon as he saw Pauline, "all! all!
all!"

He dined, and then went in the evening to perform the usual service for
the month of Mary. But this time, the harmonium was silent; Miss
Percival was no longer there.
The little organist of the evening before was at that moment much
perplexed. On two couches in her dressing-room were spread two
frocks-- a white and a blue. Bettina was meditating which of these two
frocks she would wear to the opera that evening. After long hesitation
she fixed on the blue. At half-past nine the two sisters ascended the
grand staircase at the opera-house. Just as they entered their box the
curtain rose on the second scene of the second act of Aida, that
containing the ballet and march.
Two young men, Roger de Puymartin and Louis de Martillet, were
seated in the front of a stage-box. The young ladies of the corps de
ballet had not yet appeared, and these gentlemen, having no occupation,
were amusing themselves with looking about the house. The
appearance of Miss Percival made a strong impression upon both.
"Ah! ah!" said Puymartin, "there she is, the little golden nugget!"
"She is perfectly dazzling this evening, this little golden nugget,"
continued Martillet. "Look at her, at the line of her neck, the fall of her
shoulders--still a young girl, and already a woman."
"Yes, she is charming, and tolerably well off into the bargain."
"Fifteen millions of her own, and the silver mine is still productive."
"Berulle told me twenty-five millions, and he is very well up in
American affairs."
"Twenty-five millions! A pretty haul for Romanelli!"
"What? Romanelli!"
"Report says that that will be a match; that it is already settled."
"A match may be arranged, but with Montessan, not with Romanelli.

Ah! at last! Here is the ballet."
They ceased to talk. The ballet in Aida lasts only five minutes, and for
those five minutes they had come. Consequently they must be enjoyed
respectfully, religiously, for there is that peculiarity among a number of
the habitues of the opera, that they chatter like magpies when they
ought to be silent, to listen, and that they observe the most absolute
silence when they might be allowed to speak, while looking on.
The trumpets of Aida had given their last heroic 'fanfare' in honor of
Rhadames before the great sphinxes under the green foliage of the
palm- trees, the dancers advanced, the light trembling on their spangled
robes, and took possession of the stage.
With much attention and pleasure Mrs. Scott followed the evolutions of
the ballet, but Bettina had suddenly become thoughtful, on perceiving
in a box, on the other