The Cure gave fifty francs to Pauline.  She went to take them to a poor man who had broken his arm a few days before, by falling from the top of a hay-cart.

The Abbe Constantin remained alone in the vicarage.  He was rather anxious.  He had watched for the passing of the regiment; but Jean only stopped for a moment, he looked sad.  For some time, the Abbe had noticed that Jean had no longer the flow of good-humor and gayety he once possessed.

The Cure did not disturb himself too much about it, believing it to be one of those little youthful troubles which did not concern a poor old priest.  But, on this occasion, Jean’s disturbance was very perceptible.

“I will come back directly,” he said to the Cure, “I want to speak to you.”

He turned abruptly away.  The Abbe Constantin had not even had time to give Loulou his piece of sugar, or rather his pieces of sugar, for he had put five or six in his pocket, considering that Loulou had well deserved this feast by ten long days’ march, and a score of nights passed under the open sky.

Besides, since Mrs. Scott had lived at Longueval, Loulou had very often had several pieces of sugar; the Abbe Constantin had become extravagant, prodigal; he felt himself a millionaire, the sugar for Loulou was one of his follies.  One day, even, he had been on the point of addressing to Loulou his everlasting little speech: 

“This comes from the new mistresses of Longueval; pray for them to-night.”

It was three o’clock when Jean arrived at the vicarage, and the Cure said, immediately: 

“You told me that you wanted to speak to me; what is it about?”

“About something, my dear godfather, which will surprise you, will grieve you—­”

“Grieve me!”

“Yes, and which grieves me, too—­I have come to bid you farewell.”

“Farewell! you are going away?”

“Yes, I am going away.”

“When?”

“To-day, in two hours.”

“In two hours?  But, my dear boy, you were going to dine at the castle to-night.”

“I have just written to Mrs. Scott to excuse me.  I am positively obliged to go.”

“Directly?”

“Directly.”

“And where are you going?”

“To Paris.”

“To Paris!  Why this sudden determination?”

“Not so very sudden!  I have thought about it for a long time.”

“And you have said nothing about it to me!  Jean, something has happened.  You are a man, and I have no longer the right to treat you as a child; but you know how much I love you; if you have vexations, troubles, why not tell them to me?  I could perhaps advise you.  Jean, why go to Paris?”

“I did not wish to tell you, it will give you pain; but you have the right to know.  I am going to Paris to ask to be exchanged into another regiment.”

“Into another regiment!  To leave Souvigny!”

“Yes, that is just it; I must leave Souvigny for a short time, for a little while only; but to leave Souvigny is necessary, it is what I wish above all things.”