Excuse me for speaking to you in this manner; the Parisians know how to make pretty phrases, but I do not, and in speaking French I should often be quite at a loss if I did not say everything in a simple and childish way, as it comes into my head.

In a word, I am satisfied, quite satisfied, and I hope that you, too, Monsieur le Cure, will be as satisfied with your new parishioners." "My parishioners!" exclaimed the Cure, all at once recovering speech, movement, life, everything which for some moments had completely abandoned him.

"My parishioners! Pardon me, Madame, Mademoiselle, I am so agitated.

You will be--you are Catholics ?" "Certainly we are Catholics." "Catholics! Catholics!" repeated the Cure.
"Catholics! Catholics!" echoed old Pauline.
Mrs.Scott looked from the Cure to Pauline, from Pauline to the Cure, much surprised that a single word should produce such an effect, and, to complete the tableau, Jean appeared carrying the two little travelling bags.
The Cure and Pauline saluted him with the same words: "Catholics! Catholics!" "Ah! I begin to understand," said Mrs.Scott, laughing.

"It is our name, our country; you must have thought that we were Protestants.