“No, not me! not me!”
“Well, Monsieur l’Abbe, shall I tell you what I think? I think there is no one better than you two—you and Jean. That is the truth, if I must tell you. Oh! what a splendid place for a trot! I shall let Niniche go; I call her Niniche.”
With the point of his whip Paul caressed the flank of Niniche, who started off at full speed, and Paul, delighted, cried:
“Just look at her action, Monsieur l’Abbe! just look at her action! So regular—just like clockwork. Lean over and look.”
To please Paul de Lavardens the Abbe Constantin did lean over and look at Niniche’s action, but the old priest’s thoughts were far away.
CHAPTER II. THE NEW CHATELAINE
This sub-lieutenant of artillery was called Jean Reynaud. He was the son of a country doctor who slept in the churchyard of Longueval.
In 1846, when the Abbe’ Constantin took possession of his little living, the grandfather of Jean was residing in a pleasant cottage on the road to Souvigny, between the picturesque old castles of Longueval and Lavardens.
Marcel, the son of that Dr. Reynaud, was finishing his medical studies in Paris. He possessed great industry, and an elevation of sentiment and mind extremely rare. He passed his examinations with great distinction, and had decided to fix his abode in Paris and tempt fortune there, and everything seemed to promise him the most prosperous and brilliant career, when, in 1852, he received the news of his father’s death—he had been struck down by a fit of apoplexy. Marcel hurried to Longueval, overwhelmed with grief, for he adored his father. He spent a month with his mother, and then spoke of the necessity of returning to Paris.