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Updated: June 21, 2025
Abbe Midon was wondering what they were to do, when Marie-Anne told him of the will which Chanlouineau had made in her favor, and of the money concealed beneath the hearth-stone in the best chamber. "I might go to the Borderie at night," suggested Marie-Anne, "enter the house, which is unoccupied, obtain the money and bring it here. I have a right to do so, have I not?"
"Yes, I know that all is lost even honor. Leave me here. I must remain; I must die, and thus hide my shame. I must, it shall be so!" Just then Chanlouineau appeared. Had he divined the secret of her resistance? Perhaps; but without uttering a word, he lifted her in his strong arms as if she had been a child and bore her to the carriage guarded by Abbe Midon.
This poor M. de Courtornieu had been so entirely crushed by Martial's revelation that he no longer made any effort to oppose him. "And this terrible letter?" he groaned. "Marie-Anne Lacheneur gave it to Abbe Midon, who came to me and said: 'Either the baron will escape, or this letter will be taken to the Duc de Richelieu. I voted for the baron's escape, I assure you.
When Abbe Midon and Martial de Sairmeuse held their conference, to discuss and to decide upon the arrangements for the Baron d'Escorval's escape, a difficulty presented itself which threatened to break off the negotiation. "Return my letter," said Martial, "and I will save the baron." "Save the baron," replied the abbe, "and your letter shall be returned."
He owed his life to the noble devotion and heroic energy of a priest, one of his friends, the Abbe Midon, cure of the little village of Sairmeuse. The baron d'Escorval had only one son, who embraced the judicial profession at a very early age." Lecoq was intensely disappointed. "I understand," he remarked. "This is the biography of our magistrate's father.
It had not been three hours since Maurice, Jean Lacheneur and Bavois left the house, promising to re-cross the frontier that same night. Abbe Midon had decided to say nothing to M. d'Escorval of his son's return, and to conceal Marie-Anne's presence in the house. The baron's condition was so critical that the merest trifle might turn the scale.
Greatly alarmed, he decided to go and see his former friend, and fearing another repulse, he begged Abbe Midon to accompany him. It was on the 4th of March, at about half-past four o'clock, that M. d'Escorval and the cure started for the Reche. They were so anxious and troubled in mind that they scarcely exchanged a dozen words as they wended their way onward.
His mistake before the judges was the result of his preoccupation. He did not breathe freely until he saw Maurice led from the hall by Abbe Midon and the friendly officers, for he knew that his son would try to confess connection with the affair. Then, calm and composed, with head erect, and steadfast eye, he listened to the death-sentence.
"Ah! you are like Abbe Midon," he said, sadly; "you will not believe. Who knows how much your coming here this morning will cost you? It is said that no one can escape his destiny. But if some day the hand of the executioner is laid upon your shoulder, remember that I warned you, and do not curse me."
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