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"Yes," she answered; "it is Marie-Anne that I mean." "Ah, well! she has been neither seen nor heard from. She must have fled with another of her lovers, Maurice d'Escorval." "You are mistaken." "Oh, not at all! Of all the Lacheneurs only Jean remains, and he lives like the vagabond that he is, by poaching and stealing. Day and night he rambles through the woods with his gun on his shoulder.
They believed they would gravely compromise themselves by rendering any service to the wife of a man upon whom the burden of the most terrible of accusations was resting. Mme. d'Escorval and Marie-Anne were talking of pursuing their journey on foot, when Corporal Bavois, enraged at such cowardice, swore by the sacred name of thunder that this should not be. "One moment!" said he.
You love ma belle Jeanne Marie-Anne? Is it not so? And I I love my Carmin, whose brother you hanged, as I love no other woman in the world. Now, if you will have it so, let us fight!" He began stripping off his shirt, and with a bellow in his throat Concombre Bateese slouched away like a beaten gorilla to explain to St. Pierre's people the change in the plan of battle.
"Then I will make a wager with myself, M'sieu David. MA FOI, I swear that before the leaves fall from the trees, you will be pleading for the friendship of Black Roger Audemard, and you will be as much in love with Carmin Fanchet as I am! And as for Marie-Anne " He thrust back his chair and rose to his feet, the old note of subdued laughter rumbling in his chest.
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!"
Ah! this was the weak spot in his armor; the instinct of a mother was not mistaken. M. Lacheneur hesitated a moment; but he finally conquered the weakness that had threatened to master him. "Marie-Anne," he replied, slowly, "knows her duty too well not to obey when I command.
He was almost certain that Mme. d'Escorval was in Montaignac; he was equally certain that Marie-Anne was with her; and if she were, he knew that she would come. And he waited, counting the seconds by the throbbings of his heart.
Stretched upon a sofa, he was reading a paper by the light of a large candelabra. On seeing Marie-Anne he sprang up, as pale and agitated as if the door had given passage to a spectre. "You!" he stammered.
Although at first, his appointed meeting with Marie-Anne on the following day seemed salvation itself, on reflection he was forced to admit that this interview would change nothing, since everything depended upon the will of another party the will of M. Lacheneur. The remainder of the day he passed in mournful silence.
Marie-Anne must be, and will be, the instrument of my plans. A man situated as I am is free from the considerations that restrain other men. Fortune, friends, life, honor I have been forced to sacrifice all. Perish my daughter's virtue perish my daughter herself what do they matter, if I can but succeed?"
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