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Updated: July 24, 2025
Martial was, perhaps, annoyed at meeting M. d'Escorval; but he nevertheless bowed with studied politeness, and began a lively conversation with M. Lacheneur, telling him that the articles he had selected at the chateau were on their way. M. d'Escorval could do no more. To speak with Marie-Anne was impossible: Chanlouineau and Jean would not let him go out of their sight.
A man had just appeared around a turn of the road leading to Sairmeuse. He was advancing bareheaded in the middle of the dusty road, with hurried strides, and occasionally brandishing his stick, as if threatening an enemy visible to himself alone. Soon they were able to distinguish his features. "It is Chanlouineau!" exclaimed M. Lacheneur. "The owner of the vineyards on the Borderie?" "The same!
One, Chanlouineau, after dying for her sake, protected her still. Martial de Sairmeuse had sacrificed the convictions of his life and the prejudice of his race for her sake; and, with a noble recklessness, hazarded for her the political fortunes of his house.
"Ah, well! my poor boy, you must not believe all they hear, if you have. The truth is, that these large sums were intended to win the favor of my daughter. She has pleased this coxcomb of a marquis; and he wishes to make her his mistress " Chanlouineau stopped short, with eyes flashing, and hands clinched.
From you, Rousselet, he will claim the meadows upon the Oiselle, which always yield two crops; from you, Father Gauchais, the ground upon which the Croix-Brulee stands; from you, Chanlouineau, the vineyards on the Borderie " Chanlouineau was the impetuous young man who had interrupted Father Chupin twice already.
There, his lamentations were redoubled; and he begged the guard to go to the Duc de Sairmeuse, or the Marquis de Courtornieu, and tell them he had revelations of the greatest importance to make. That potent word "revelations" made M. de Courtornieu hasten to the prisoner's cell. He found Chanlouineau on his knees, his features distorted by what was apparently an agony of fear.
"Send for the marquis," said Chanlouineau, tranquilly, "and see whether or not he is wounded." A refusal on the part of the duke could not fail to arouse suspicion. But what could he do? Martial had concealed his wound the day before; it was now impossible to confess that he had been wounded. Fortunately for the duke, one of the judges relieved him of his embarrassment.
But we must do her the justice to admit that her testimony was sincere. She really believed that it was Baron d'Escorval who was with the rebels, and whose opinion Chanlouineau had asked. This error on the part of Mlle. Blanche rose from the custom of designating Maurice by his Christian name, which prevailed in the neighborhood. In speaking of him everyone said "Monsieur Maurice."
"Martial will be afraid of the letter," he said to himself, again and again; "certainly he will be afraid." In this Chanlouineau was entirely mistaken. His discernment and intelligence were certainly above his station, but he was not sufficiently acute to read a character like that of the young Marquis de Sairmeuse.
"Here," he said, in a low voice, "is a man's life!" Marie-Anne knew nothing of Chanlouineau's promises and hopes, and bewildered by her distress, she did not at first understand. "This," she exclaimed, "is a man's life!" "Hush, speak lower!" interrupted Chanlouineau. "Yes, one of these letters might perhaps save the life of one who has been condemned to death." "Unfortunate man!
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