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Updated: May 22, 2025
This room, which was much larger than the first, was as scantily furnished; but it contained several piles of small books and an infinite number of tiny packages. Two men were engaged in arranging and sorting these articles. One was Chanlouineau. M. d'Escorval did not remember that he had ever seen the other, who was a young man. "This is my son, Jean, Monsieur," said Lacheneur.
On returning to Saint-Pavin, and hearing that the soldiers were searching for the chief conspirator, the lad chanced to say: "I met a man just now on the mountain who asked me where he was; and I saw him go down the footpath leading to Antoine's cottage." And in proof of his words, he proudly displayed the piece of silver which Lacheneur had given him.
"None that I can disclose, Madame. But never while I live shall my daughter be your son's wife!" "Ah! it will kill my child!" exclaimed the baroness. M. Lacheneur shook his head. "Monsieur Maurice," said he, "is young; he will console himself he will forget." "Never!" interrupted the unhappy lover "never!" "And your daughter?" inquired the baroness.
He also placed in his hands the diamond earring, the owner of which must be discovered; and the letter signed "Lacheneur," which had been found in the pocket of the spurious soldier. Having given him full instructions, he asked him to make his appearance promptly on the morrow, and then dismissed him, saying: "Now go; and may good luck attend you!"
"You, Monsieur!" exclaimed Lacheneur, in tones of the most lively affection, "you! ah! you know it well! You are the best, the only friends, I have here below. I should be the basest and the most miserable of men if I did not guard the recollection of all your kindnesses until my eyes close in death.
He is frightful to look upon, a perfect skeleton, and his eyes glitter like live coals. If he ever meets me, my account will be settled then and there." Blanche turned pale. It was Jean Lacheneur who had fired at the marquis then. She did not doubt it in the least. "Very well!" said she, "I, myself, am sure that Marie-Anne is in the neighborhood, concealed in Montaignac, probably. I must know.
"Confess, rather, that you have been led into this filth by your mistress," he retorted, pointing to Marie-Anne. But this insult Martial would not tolerate. "Mademoiselle Lacheneur is not my mistress," he replied, in a tone so imperious that it was a menace. "It is true, however, that it rests only with her to decide whether she will be the Marquise de Sairmeuse tomorrow.
"In less than an hour," continued the priest, "the soldiers sent in pursuit of the fugitives will be here. Not a word must be uttered in regard to what has passed this evening. Everyone must be led to suppose that I went away with the baron and returned alone. Not one of you must have seen Mademoiselle Lacheneur. We are going to find a place of concealment for her.
They will aid me without injuring themselves." Lacheneur, this time, spoke the truth. His hearer felt it; still he pretended to doubt. He thought by retaining his own self-possession, and exciting the anger of this unfortunate man still more, he might, perhaps, discover his real intentions.
"Yes, we must save him!" repeated the husband, gloomily. "They shall kill me before I betray a man in my own house." "If he would hide in the stable behind the bundles of straw " "They would find him! These soldiers are worse than tigers, and the wretch who leads them on must have the keen scent of a blood-hound." He turned quickly to Lacheneur.
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