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Twenty persons had heard Chupin declare, with frightful oaths, that he should never be tranquil in mind while a Lacheneur was left upon earth. So that which might have ruined Blanche, saved her; and the death of the old poacher seemed really providential. Why should she suspect that Chupin had revealed her secret before his death?
This obstinate serenity disappointed the baron's expectations. He could not have received a heavier blow. "Take care, Lacheneur," he said, sternly. "Think of the situation in which you place your daughter, between Chanlouineau, who wishes to make her his wife, and Monsieur de Sairmeuse, who desires to make her " "Who desires to make her his mistress is that what you mean? Oh, say the word.
But he had not time to pursue his advantage. The services were over, and the worshippers were leaving the church. Soon there appeared upon the porch the man in question, with a young girl of dazzling beauty leaning upon his arm. Father Chupin walked straight toward him, and brusquely delivered his message. M. Lacheneur staggered beneath the blow.
Unfortunately, he had nothing whatever to guide him in his researches; no clew, however vague. All that was known in Montaignac was that M. Lacheneur's horse was killed at the Croix d'Arcy. But no one knew whether Lacheneur himself had been wounded, or whether he had escaped from the fray uninjured. Had he reached the frontier? or had he found an asylum in the house of one of his friends?
They are heartless monsters, the like of whom certainly cannot be found upon the earth." "Alas!" sighed the baron, "the allies have brought back others who, like these men, think the world created exclusively for their benefit." "And these people wish to be our masters," growled Lacheneur. By some strange fatality no one chanced to hear the remark made by M. Lacheneur.
Am I not your daughter? Do you no longer love me?" At the sound of this dear voice, M. Lacheneur trembled like a sleeper suddenly aroused from the terrors of a nightmare, and he cast an indescribable glance upon his daughter. "Did you not hear what Chupin said to me?" he replied, slowly.
"Ah! sir, but how is it possible for us to leave this place?" "In two days the young lady will be on her feet again," interrupted the physician. "And take my advice. At the next village, stop and give your name to Mademoiselle Lacheneur." "Ah! sir," Maurice exclaimed; "have you considered the advice you offer me?
Chupin had not taken time to sleep, nor scarcely time to drink, since that unfortunate morning when the Duc de Sairmeuse ordered affixed to the walls of Montaignac, that decree in which he promised twenty thousand francs to the person who should deliver up Lacheneur, dead or alive. "Twenty thousand francs," Chupin muttered gloomily; "twenty sacks with a hundred pistoles in each!
The Widow Chupin knew how to write, and Lacheneur dictated this letter: "Madame la Duchesse I shall expect you at my establishment to-morrow between twelve and four o'clock. It is on business connected with the Borderie. If at five o'clock I have not seen you, I shall carry to the post a letter for the duke." "And if she comes what am I to say to her?" asked the astonished widow.
It was easy to explain Chupin's terror when one saw Jean Lacheneur. His clothing was literally in tatters, his face wore an expression of ferocious despair, and a fierce unextinguishable hatred burned in his eyes. When he entered the cottage, Marie-Anne recoiled in horror. She did not recognize him until he spoke. "It is I, sister," he said, gloomily. "You my poor Jean! you!"
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