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Updated: June 1, 2025
Upon the banks the cleaning and curing went on, the women and children assisting, and as the Indians and half-breeds worked they sang either the wild Indian melodies, snatches of brave old songs of the 'voyageurs' of a past century, or hymns taught by the Jesuit missionaries in the persons of such noble men as Pere Lacombe and Pere Durieu, who have wandered up and down the vast plains of both sides of the Rockies telling an old story in a picturesque, heroic way.
Madame Durieu, Mademoiselle Goujet, and Madame d'Hauteserre sprang to help her, for she was suffocating. She signed to cut the frogging of her habit. "Duped!" said Corentin to Peyrade. "I am certain now they are on their way to Paris. Change the orders." They left the room and the house, placing one gendarme on guard at the door of the salon.
He had not seen the doctor, no one had seen him, for two months past. It might very well be since he was not here that he had been obliged to take to his bed, for there was a report in the town that he was not very well. "Wait until I get the luggage, mademoiselle," he ended, "there is room for you on the seat." "No, Father Durieu, it would be too long to wait. I will walk."
What young girl of twenty-three would not have been, as Laurence was, proud to play the part of Destiny? and who would not have felt, as she did, a sense of compassion for those whom she felt to be so far below her in loyalty? "She sleeps," said the abbe. "I have never seen her so wearied." "Durieu tells me her mare is almost foundered," remarked Madame d'Hauteserre.
In the first place Durieu and his wife were jealous of Catherine and Gothard, who lived in greater intimacy with their young mistress, the idol of the household, than they did.
Her bedroom was the best in the house; next came a dressing-room and an oratory, in the tower which faced towards the forest. Soon after she had left the salon the dogs barked, the bell of the small gate rang, and Durieu rushed into the salon with a frightened face. "Here is the mayor!" he said. "Something is the matter."
The pupil of Lenoir, after considering the two prisoners carefully, and noting the vacant air of the old gentleman whom he took to be sly, the intelligent eye of the abbe who was still fingering the cards, and the utter stupefaction of the servants and Durieu, approached Corentin and whispered in his ear, "We are not dealing with ninnies."
During the last six months he had ventured to dig up the family silver, which the cook had buried in the cellar of a little house belonging to him at the end of one of the long faubourgs in Troyes. That faithful servant, named Durieu, and his wife had followed the fortunes of their young mistress. Durieu was the factotum of the chateau, and his wife was the housekeeper.
"What penalties are attached to the crime?" asked Monsieur d'Hauteserre. "Well, as the old law continues in force, and they are not amenable under the Code, the penalty is death," replied the justice. "Death!" cried Madame d'Hauteserre, fainting away. The abbe now came in with his sister, who stopped to speak to Catherine and Madame Durieu. "We haven't even seen your cursed senator!" said Michu.
Certain that no one could have escaped from the park or the chateau, for all the issues were guarded, Corentin stationed a gendarme in every room and ordered others to search the farm buildings, stables, and sheds. Then he returned to the salon, where Durieu and his wife and the other servants had rushed in the wildest excitement.
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