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Updated: July 3, 2025
All this occupied scarcely ten seconds. "What is the cause of this disturbance?" inquired the duke, looking angrily over the audience. No one uttered a word. "At the least noise the hall shall be cleared," added M. de Sairmeuse. "And you, prisoner, what have you to say in self-justification, after this crushing accusation by Mademoiselle de Courtornieu?" "Nothing," murmured the baron.
Thanks to the activity of the Marquis de Courtornieu, the prosecution had found seven charges against the baron, the least grave of which was punishable by death. "Which of you," demanded M. de Sairmeuse, "will consent to defend this great culprit?" "I!" exclaimed three advocates, in a breath. "Take care," said the duke, with a malicious smile; "the task is not light." "Not light!"
Blanche de Courtornieu smiled as brightly as ever in the midst of a stricken people; and surrounded by mourners, her lovely eyes remained dry. The daughter of a man who, for a week, exercised the power of a dictator, she did not lift her finger to save a single one of the condemned prisoners from the executioner. They had stopped her carriage on the public road.
With a rapid movement, Martial tore the paper from the hands of the Marquis de Courtornieu, and addressing his father: "Listen to this letter," he said, imperiously.
Ah! had she obeyed the dictates of her resentment! But her indomitable vanity aroused within her the heroism of a gladiator dying on the arena, with a smile upon his lips. Falling, she intended to fall gracefully. "No one shall see me weep; no one shall hear me complain," she said to her despondent father; "try to imitate me." And on her return to the Chateau de Courtornieu, she was a stoic.
One night a courier arrived at Montaignac, bearing the following laconic despatch: "The twenty-one convicted prisoners must be executed." That is to say, the Duc de Richelieu, and the council of ministers, headed by M. Decazes, the minister of police, had decided that the petitions for clemency must be refused. This despatch was a terrible blow to the Duc de Sairmeuse and M. de Courtornieu.
"But I have good reason to distrust the disinterestedness of this young man." Martial was already far off. Had he been less preoccupied, he would have perceived two figures in the wood. Mlle. Blanche de Courtornieu, followed by the inevitable Aunt Medea, had come to play the spy. The Marquis de Courtornieu idolized his daughter. Everyone spoke of that as an incontestable and uncontested fact.
"That is to say," she said, at last, "you permit me to take my choice between dying of fear at Courtornieu and ending my days in a hospital. Thanks, my niece, thanks. That is like you. I expected nothing less of you. Thanks!" She raised her head, and a dangerous light gleamed in her eyes. There was the hiss of a serpent in the voice in which she continued: "Very well! this decides me.
This aunt, or cousin, rather, was a poor relation whom M. de Courtornieu had sheltered, and who was forced to pay dearly for her bread; since Mlle. Blanche compelled her to play the part of echo. "It grieves me to see these friendly relations, which were so dear to me, broken," resumed Mlle. de Courtornieu. "But listen to what Marie-Anne has written."
"Ah! the secretary was right!" he exclaimed. "Maurice, it was Martial de Sairmeuse who caused your arrest " "Or the Marquis de Courtornieu," interrupted the abbe, with a warning glance at Jean. A wrathful light gleamed for an instant in the eyes of Maurice; but it vanished almost immediately, and he shrugged his shoulders carelessly.
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