Helen was somewhat concerned about the children, but found time to look at me with so much of sympathy, humour, affection, and condescension that I really felt relieved when we reached the house.  And how gloriously the rest of the day passed off!  We had a delightful little lunch, and Tom brought up a bottle of Roederer, and we drank to “her and her mother.”  Then Helen proposed, “The makers of the match—­Budge and Toddie,” which was honoured with bumpers.  The gentlemen toasted did not respond, but stared so curiously I sprang from my chair and kissed them soundly, while Helen and Tom exchanged significant glances.

Young as they are, I find frequent reason to be jealous of them, but artifice alone can prevent them monopolising the time of an adorable being of whose society I cannot possibly have too much.  She insists that, when the ceremony takes place in December, they shall officiate as groomsmen, and I have no doubt she will carry her point In fact, when I retire for the night without first seeking their room, and putting a grateful kiss on their unconscious lips, my conscience upbraids me with base ingratitude.  To think I might yet be a hopeless bachelor had it not been for them, is to overflow with gratitude to the Giver of Helen’s Babies.

* * * * *

LUDOVIC HALEVY

The Abbe Constantin

Ludovic Halevy, born in Paris on January 1, 1834, was a nephew of Jacques Francois Halevy, the famous operatic composer.  Beginning life in the Civil Service, he himself achieved considerable distinction as a dramatic author, “Frou-Frou,” written in collaboration with Meilhac, being one of the greatest theatrical successes of his century.  He soon, however, forsook the drama for fiction.  His first novel, “Monsieur and Madame Cardinal,” published in 1873, gave ample promise of the inventive genius and gift of characterisation that were fully realised nine years later in “L’Abbe Constantin.”  The tale, an exquisite study of French provincial life, came as a distinct revelation of French life and character to English readers.  It has reached 240 editions, and has been translated into all European languages.  In 1886 Halevy was elected to the French Academy.  He died on May 8, 1908.

I.—­“The Good Days Are Gone"

With footstep firm and strong, despite his weight of years, an old priest was walking along a dusty country road one sunny day in May 1881.  It was more than thirty years since the Abbe Constantin had first become cure of the little village sleeping there in the sunny plain of France, beside a dainty stream called the Lizotte.  He had been walking for a quarter of an hour along the wall of the Chateau de Longueval.  As he reached the massive entrance gates he stopped and gazed sadly at two immense bills pasted on the pillars.  They announced the sale by auction that day of the Longueval estate, divided into four lots:  (1) The castle, with all its grounds and parks; (2) the farm of Blanche-Couronne, 700 acres; (3) the farm of Rozeraie, 500 acres; (4) the forest and woods of Mionne, 900 acres.  The reserve prices totalled the respectable sum of 2,050,000 francs!