Somewhere in America they have a silver mine, but a genuine mine, a real mine--a mine with silver in it.

Ah! we shall see what luxury will reign at Longueval! We shall all look like paupers beside them! It is said that they have 100,000 francs a day to spend." "Such are our neighbors!" cried Madame de Lavardens.

"An adventuress! and that is the least of it--a heretic, Monsieur l'Abbe, a Protestant!" A heretic! a Protestant! Poor Cure; it was indeed that of which he had immediately thought on hearing the words, "An American, Mrs.Scott." The new chatelaine of Longueval would not go to mass.

What did it matter to him that she had been a beggar?
What did it matter to him if she possessed tens and tens of millions?
She was not a Catholic.

He would never again baptize children born at Longueval, and the chapel in the castle, where he had so often said mass, would be transformed into a Protestant oratory, which would echo only the frigid utterances of a Calvinistic or Lutheran pastor.
Every one was distressed, disappointed, overwhelmed; but in the midst of the general depression Paul stood radiant.
"A charming heretic at all events," said he, "or rather two charming heretics.