The Abbe was beginning to recover a little, but he was still too agitated to perform the duties of a host.  It was Jean who had undertaken the management of his godfather’s little dinner.  He filled the plate of the charming American, who fixed upon him the glance of two large eyes, in which sparkled frankness, daring, and gayety.  The eyes of Jean, meanwhile, repaid Miss Percival in the same coin.  It was scarcely three quarters of an hour since the young American and the young officer had made acquaintance in the Cure’s garden, yet both felt already perfectly at ease with each other, full of confidence, almost like old friends.

“I told you, Monsieur l’Abbe,” continued Bettina, “that yesterday was my sister’s birthday.  A week ago my brother-in-law was obliged to return to America, but at starting he said to my sister, ’I shall not be with you on your birthday, but you will hear from me.’  So, yesterday, presents and bouquets arrived from all quarters, but from my brother-in-law, up to five o’clock, nothing—­nothing.  We were just starting for a ride in the Bois, and ‘a propos’ of riding”—­she stopped, and looking curiously at Jean’s great dusty boots—­“Monsieur Jean, you have spurs on.”

“Yes, Miss Percival.”

“Then you are in the cavalry?”

“I am in the artillery, and that, you know, is cavalry.”

“And your regiment is quartered?”—–­

“Quite near here.”

“Then you will be able to ride with us?”

“With the greatest pleasure.”

“That is settled.  Let me see; where was I?”

“You do not know at all where you are, Bettina, and you are telling these gentlemen things which can not interest them.”

“Oh!  I beg your pardon,” said the Cure.  “The sale of this estate is the only subject of conversation in the neighborhood just now, and Miss Percival’s account interests me very much.”

“You see, Susie, my account interests Monsieur le Cure very much; then I shall continue.  We went for our ride, we returned at seven o’clock—­nothing.  We dined, and just when we were leaving the table a telegram from America arrived.  It contained only a few lines: 

“’I have ordered the purchase to-day, for you and in your name, of the castle and lands of Longueval, near Souvigny, on the Northern Railway line.’

“Then we both burst into a fit of wild laughter at the thought.”

“No, no, Bettina; you calumniate us both.  Our first thought was one of very sincere gratitude, for both my sister and I are very fond of the country.  My husband knows that we had longed to have an estate in France.  For six months he had been looking out, and found nothing.  At last he discovered this one, and, without telling us, ordered it to be bought for my birthday.  It was a delicate attention.”

“Yes, Susie, you are right, but after the little fit of gratitude, we had a great one of gayety.”