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Abbe Constantin

By LUDOVIC HALEVY Condensation by CHARLES E. L. WINGATE WITH a step still valiant and firm the old Abbe Constantin walked along the dusty road of the little village where for more than thirty years he had been the cure. At the entrance of the Castle of Longueval he stopped and mournfully regarded the big blue posters fixed on the pillars.

They announced the sale of the castle, the former home of the cure's dear old friend, the marquise, who had recently died.

And the result of that auction?

The great estate bought by two entire strangers! "Do you know who they are?" asked Madame de Lavardens. "Yes. Mrs. Scott is an American possessing a colossal fortune. Ten years ago Mrs. Scott begged in the streets of New York, they say. They are rich parvenus who amuse themselves by throwing handfuls of gold out of the window, and who will turn up their noses at us and care nothing for our traditions or our life."

Such was the story.