"Don't mention it, Monsieur le Cure. You have guessed rightly. It is a very happy circumstance which brings me. I am about to marry."
"Aha!" laughed the Abbe, "I congratulate you, my dear young friend.
This is really delightful news. It is not good for man to be alone, and
I am glad to know you must give up the perilous life of a bachelor.
Well, tell me quickly the name of your betrothed. Do I know her?"
"Of course you do, Monsieur le Cure; there are few you know so well. It is Mademoiselle Vincart."
"Reine?"
The Abbe flung away the pruning-knife and branch that he was cutting, and gazed at Claudet with a stupefied air. At the same time, his jovial face became shadowed, and his mouth assumed an expression of consternation.
"Yes, indeed, Reine Vincart," repeated Claudet, somewhat vexed at the startled manner of his reverence; "are you surprised at my choice?"
"Excuse me-and-is it all settled?" stammered the Abbe, with bewilderment, "and—and do you really love each other?"
"Certainly; we agree on that point; and I have come here to arrange with you about having the banns published."
"What! already?" murmured the cure, buttoning and unbuttoning the top of his coat in his agitation, "you seem to be in a great hurry to go to work. The union of the man and the woman—ahem—is a serious matter, which ought not to be undertaken without due consideration. That is the reason why the Church has instituted the sacrament of marriage. Hast thou well considered, my son?"
"Why, certainly, I have reflected," exclaimed Claudet with some irritation, "and my mind is quite made up. Once more, I ask you, Monsieur le Cure, are you displeased with my choice, or have you anything to say against Mademoiselle Vincart?"