The lady is, of course, astounded at Reuben's disclosure to her. "_Mon Dieu!_ you, then, are the son of that good priest of whom I have heard so much! And you are Puritan? I would not have thought that. They love the vanities of the world then,"--and her eye flashed over the well-appointed dress of Reuben, who felt half an inclination to hide, if it had been possible, the cluster of gairish charms which hung at his watch-chain. "You have shown great kindness to my child, Monsieur. I thank you with my whole heart." "She is very charming, Madam," said Reuben, in an easy, _degage_ manner, which, to tell truth, he put on to cover a little embarrassing revival of his old sentiment. Madam Maverick looked at him keenly. "Describe her to me, if you will be so good, Monsieur." Whereupon Reuben ran on,--jauntily, at first, as if it had been a ballet-girl of San Carlo whose picture he was making out; but his old hearty warmth declared itself by degrees; and his admiration and his tenderness gave such warm color to his language as it might have shown if her little gloved hand had been shivering even then in his own passionate clasp. And as he closed, with a great glow upon his face, Madam Maverick burst forth,-- "_Mon Dieu_, how I love her! Yet is it not a thing astonishing that I should ask you, a stranger, Monsieur, how my own child is looking? _Culpa mea! culpa mea!_" and she clutched at her rosary, and mumbled an ave, with her eyes lifted and streaming tears. Reuben looked upon her in wonder, amazed at the depth of her emotion. Could this be all hypocrisy? "_Tenez!_" said she, recovering herself, and reading, as it were, his doubts. "You count these" (lifting her rosary) "bawbles yonder, and our prayers pagan prayers; my husband has told me, and that she, Adele, is taught thus, and that the _Bon Dieu_ has forsaken our Holy Church,--that He comes near now only to your--what shall I call them?--meeting-houses? Tell me, Monsieur, does Adele think this?" "I think," said Reuben, "that your daughter would have charity for any religious faith which was earnest." "Charity! _Mon Dieu!_ Charity for sins, charity for failings,--yes, I ask it; but for my faith! No, Monsieur, no--no--a thousand times, no!" "This is real," thought Reuben. "Tell me, Monsieur," continued she, with a heat of language that excited his admiration, "what is it you believe there? What is the horror against which your New England teachers would warn my poor Adele? May the Blessed Virgin be near her!"