And the stables! and the coach-houses! A special train had brought from Paris, under the high superintendence of Edwards, a dozen carriages--and such carriages! Twenty horses--and such horses! The Abbe Constantin thought that he knew what luxury was.

Once a year he dined with his bishop, Monseigneur Faubert, a rich and amiable prelate, who entertained rather largely.

The Cure, till now, had, thought that there was nothing in the world more sumptuous than the Episcopal palace of Souvigny, or the castles of Lavardens and Longueval.
He began to understand, from what he was told of the new splendors of Longueval, that the luxury of the great houses of the present day must surpass to a singular degree the sober and severe luxury of the great houses of former times.
As soon as the Cure and Jean had entered the avenue in the park, which led to the house: "Look! Jean," said the Cure; "what a change! All this part of the park used to be quite neglected, and now all the paths are gravelled and raked.

I shall not be able to feel myself at home as I used to do: it will be too grand.

I shall not find again my old brown velvet easy-chair, in which I so often fell asleep after dinner, and if I fall asleep this evening what will become of me?
You will think of it, Jean, and if you see that I begin to forget myself, you will come behind me and pinch my arm gently, won't you?
You promise me ?" "Certainly, certainly, I promise you." Jean paid but slight attention to the conversation of the Cure.