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Updated: May 5, 2025
She came up to the house in feverish haste, as if she had known that her strength was at an end, and would barely suffice to carry her to the door. Grandpapa Chandore met her with a kind of fierce joy, pressed her in his arms, and said over and over again, "O Dionysia! Oh, my darling child, how I have suffered! How long you have been! But it is all over now. Come, come, come!"
I began to accuse myself of injustice and cruelty. I admired her for sacrificing herself to my happiness. I felt, in the fulness of my gratitude, like kneeling down, and kissing the hem of her dress. "It had become useless now to confide my secret to M. de Chandore. I might have gone back to Boiscoran.
Every morning he received three or four, from the marchioness or M. Folgat, from M. Seneschal or M. Magloire, from M. de Chandore, Dionysia, or even from Dr. Seignebos. Thus he could follow at a distance all the phases, and even the smallest changes, in the proceedings. Only one thing he would not do: he would not come down, however important his coming might be for his son. He did not move.
Unfortunately, we must take M. Folgat into our confidence; for we cannot do without his advice." Thus it was done. The poor aunts, and even the marchioness, had to be content with Dionysia's not very plausible explanation of her visit. And a few hours afterwards M. de Chandore, the young girl, and M. Folgat held a council in the baron's study.
"He dined as usual with a good appetite; then he went up stairs and remained there for an hour. When he came down, he had a letter in his hand, which he gave to Michael, our tenant's son, and told him to carry it to Sauveterre, to Miss Chandore." "Yes. In that letter, M. de Boiscoran told Miss Dionysia that he was retained here by a matter of great importance." "Ah!"
He rose, and said in an almost inaudible voice, "Ah, all is over indeed! Innocent, or guilty, Jacques de Boiscoran will be condemned." M. Magloire made no reply. "And that is," continued the old gentleman, "what you call justice!" "Alas!" sighed M. Seneschal, "it is useless to deny it: trials by jury are a lottery." M. de Chandore, driven nearly to madness by his despair, interrupted him,
It was five o'clock when they drove into town again. Dionysia was waiting for them in the sitting-room. She rose as they entered, looking quite pale, with dry, brilliant eyes. "What? You are alone here!" said M. de Chandore. "Why have they left you alone?" "Don't be angry, grandpapa.
Cocoleu has not the sense of a man; but he has all the instincts of a brute. However, I'll try." There was nothing to keep either M. de Chandore or M. Folgat any longer at Boiscoran; hence, after having warned Anthony to watch the seals well, and get a glimpse, if possible, of Jacques's gun, when the officers should come for the different articles, they left the chateau.
M. de Chandore replied that she had staid at home with the Misses Lavarande, to keep M. Magloire company; and that was all. There are situations in which it is painful to talk. The marquis had enough to do to suppress the spasmodic sobs which now and then would rise in his throat. He was upset by the thought that he was at Sauveterre.
The night before he had received a note from M. de Chandore, informing him of the marquis's arrival; and his whole time had since been spent in preparing himself for the interview. How would it be? He had nothing by which to judge. He had therefore determined to be quite reserved.
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