Mrs. Scott and Bettina stopped, struck with this inscription
carved on the stone:
“Here lies Dr. Marcel Reynaud, Surgeon-Major
of the Souvigny Mobiles; killed January 8, 1871, at
the Battle of Villersexel. Pray for him.”
When they had read it, the Cure, pointing to Jean,
said:
“It was his father!”
The two sisters drew near the tomb, and with bent
heads remained there for some minutes, pensive, touched,
contemplative. Then both turned, and at the same
moment, by the same impulse, offered their hands to
Jean; then continued their walk to the church.
Their first prayer at Longueval had been for the father
of Jean.
The Cure went to put on his surplice and stole.
Jean conducted Mrs. Scott to the seat which belonged
to the masters of Longueval.
Pauline had gone on before. She was waiting for
Miss Percival in the shadow behind one of the pillars.
By a steep and narrow staircase, she led Bettina to
the gallery, and placed her before the harmonium.
Preceded by two little chorister boys, the old Cure
left the vestry, and at the moment when he knelt on
the steps of the alter:
“Now! Mademoiselle,” said Pauline,
whose heart beat with impatience. “Poor,
dear man, how pleased he will be.”
When he heard the sound of the music rise, soft as
a murmur, and spread through the little church, the
Abbe Constantin was filled with such emotion, such
joy, that the tears came to his eyes. He could
not remember having wept since the day when Jean had
said that he wished to share all that he possessed
with the mother and sister of those who had fallen
by his father’s side under the Prussian bullets.
To bring tears to the eyes of the old priest, a little
American had been brought across the seas to play
a reverie of Chopin in the little church of Longueval.
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Ancient pillars of stone,
embrowned and gnawed by time
And they are shoulders
which ought to be seen
But she will give me
nothing but money
Duty, simply accepted
and simply discharged
God may have sent him
to purgatory just for form’s sake
He led the brilliant
and miserable existence of the unoccupied
If there is one! (a
paradise)
Never foolish to spend
money. The folly lies in keeping it
Often been compared
to Eugene Sue, but his touch is lighter
One half of his life
belonged to the poor
Succeeded in wearying
him by her importunities and tenderness
The history of good
people is often monotonous or painful
The women have enough
religion for the men
By LUDOVIC HALEVY
A RIOT OF CHARITY
