"Here, mademoiselle. Oh, _Clementissime Jesu!_ what has happened? how are you here?--who is this man?--why in such company? and who has dared--what has he done to you? my dear child, Jacqueline, what is the meaning of all this?" cried an old gentleman, all in a breath, as he opened the door of the désobligeant and sprang agilely out. As he approached us, hat in hand, and bowing low at every pace, I could see that he was a fine looking old man--a priest, evidently, as he wore a black silk soutan, with at least fifty little buttons in front; he wore also a tippet and small gold cross, and had his white hair tied behind by a black ribbon. His pale countenance was mild and pleasing, though he surveyed me with an expression of eye which evinced that he had no particular desire to cultivate _my_ acquaintance; and maitre Jacquot from his box regarded me with undisguised animosity and alarm. "Ah, dearest Père Celestine," said the young lady, clasping his proffered hand between both of hers, "I have been saved from great peril by this kind soldier; but take me away with you--oh, take me away--and I shall tell you all about it." "Kind--ha--hum. _Monsieur le Soldat_, I thank you," said the Curé, making a bow so profound, that a cloud of hair-powder flew about his head, and his little cocked hat, which he was too polite to assume before a lady, swept the road in his right hand; "from my soul I thank you, for Mademoiselle Jacqueline is my dearest child." "Have I the honour of addressing----" I began, for this phraseology bewildered me. "Le Père Celestine," said Mademoiselle de Broglie; "so I am now in perfect safety, thanks to your kindness and courage, monsieur; and now permit me to offer you that reward which any soldier may accept without reproach." She drew a ring from her finger, and placed it in my hand, saying, with a bright coquettish smile-- "There is a language of precious stones, as well as of beautiful flowers, and if learned in such matters, you will know what this gem is significant of." The old clergyman waved his hat, and laughed with great good humour, while the graceful girl bowed to me again and again as he handed her into the dèsobligeant and shut the door. The Curé then placed his hat on his head, for the first time during our interview, and with true French gallantry sprang on the narrow footboard behind his little carriage, which was rapidly driven off, Jacquot evincing, by his lavish use of the whip, his desire to place as great a distance as possible between himself and me.