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She could not rid herself of the idea that Jean Lacheneur suspected her guilt, and that he was watching her. Her wish to find Marie-Anne's infant was stronger than ever. It seemed to her that the child might be a protection to her some day. But where could she find an agent in whom she could confide?
"He was going there, when he met me in the grove on the waste." She blushed as she spoke; she turned crimson at the thought of Martial's impertinent gallantry. This girl who had just emerged from a convent was terribly experienced; but she misunderstood the cause of Marie-Anne's confusion. She could dissimulate, however, and when Marie-Anne went away, Mlle.
We must keep her as a hostage; her life may save the life of our friends." Mlle. Blanche had not recognized her former friend, any more than she had suspected the intentions of this crowd of men. But Marie-Anne's name, uttered with that of d'Escorval enlightened her at once. She understood it all, and trembled with rage at the thought that she was at the mercy of her rival.
Reason returned; he realized the enormity of his suspicions, and was horrified with himself for having dared to give utterance to them. "Oh! pardon!" he faltered, "pardon!" What did the mysterious causes of all these events which had so rapidly succeeded each other, or M. Lacheneur's secrets, or Marie-Anne's reticence, matter to him now?
He needed only a club and a shield and the skin of a beast about his loins to transform him into prehistoric man. At least these were his first impressions impressions roused by thought of Marie-Anne's slim, beautiful body crushed close in the embrace of that laughing, powerful-lunged giant. Then the reaction swept over him. St.
"And then you, yourself, will realize the horror of the disgrace. It will cost you the deadly anguish of a separation from him whom your heart has chosen." He had spoken truly, for Marie-Anne's beautiful eyes filled with tears.
Two or three abominable stories which she concocted, and which she forced Aunt Medea to circulate everywhere, did not produce the desired effect. Marie-Anne's reputation was, of course, ruined by them; but Martial's visits, instead of ceasing, became longer and more frequent. Dissatisfied with his progress, and fearful that he was being duped, he even watched the house.
She played her part so well, that, deeply moved, almost repentant, he returned five or six times, and at last, one day, he besought her to allow him to remain. But even the joy of this triumph did not restore her peace of mind. Between her and her husband rose that dread apparition; and Marie-Anne's distorted features were ever before her.
And the next day he went to Lacheneur's house. In the warmth of the greeting that awaited him there, all his anger vanished, all his suspicions evaporated. Marie-Anne's eyes beamed with joy on seeing him again; he noticed it. "Oh! I shall win her yet!" he thought.
She was unwilling to be left alone she dared not she was afraid. And as if she desired to silence the inward voice that tormented her, she talked with extreme volubility, repeating again and again that she was ready to do anything in expiation of her crime, and that she would brave impossibilities to recover Marie-Anne's child. And certainly, the task was both difficult and dangerous.
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