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Updated: July 5, 2025
A few lines of the article consecrated to Martial de Sairmeuse in the "General Biography of the Men of the Century," give the history of his life after his marriage. "Martial de Sairmeuse," it says there, "brought to the service of his party a brilliant intellect and admirable endowments.
He seized the arm of his former friend, and in a voice loud enough to be heard distinctly by everyone present, he continued: "Foolish man! You have forgotten that Montaignac is a fortified city, protected by deep moats and high walls! You have forgotten that behind these fortifications is a garrison commanded by a man whose energy and valor are beyond all question the Duc de Sairmeuse."
"I had them a fortnight ago; now I have nothing. I can hope to obtain this sum only through the generosity of the Duc de Sairmeuse and his son." These words from Lacheneur's lips astonished the baron. Lacheneur perceived it, and it was with every appearance of sincerity and good faith that he resumed: "Does what I say surprise you? I understand why.
When a grand seigneur addressed these people, he said: "Halloo! hi, there! friend, my worthy fellow!" So it was with the air of a man who is making an effort of memory that the Duc de Sairmeuse repeated: "Lacheneur Monsieur Lacheneur " But Martial, a closer observer than his father, had noticed that the priest's glance wavered at the sound of this name.
"'God be praised! she whispered; 'Sairmeuse is saved! "I heard a deep sigh. I turned; she was dead." This scene that M. Lacheneur was relating rose vividly before him. To feign, to disguise the truth, or to conceal any portion of it was an impossibility. He forgot himself and his daughter; he thought only of the dead woman, of Mlle. Armande de Sairmeuse.
His wife gave birth to a child, and Mme. de Sairmeuse must pay for the baptism as she had paid for the wedding, only too happy that Chupin did not require her to stand as godmother to little Polyte. He had entertained this idea at first. On two occasions Mme. Blanche accompanied her husband to Vienna and to London, whither he went charged with important diplomatic missions.
The Chateau de Courtornieu is, next to Sairmeuse, the most magnificent habitation in the arrondissement of Montaignac. The approach to the castle was by a long and narrow road, badly paved. When the carriage containing Martial and his father turned from the public highway into this rough road, the jolting aroused the duke from the profound revery into which he had fallen on leaving Sairmeuse.
And they fled, leaving Martial thunderstruck. He struggled hard to regain his composure. The soldiers were very near; he ran to meet them, and addressing the officer in command, he said, imperiously: "Do you know who I am?" "Yes," replied the sergeant, respectfully, "you are the son of the Duc de Sairmeuse." "Very well! I forbid you to follow those men."
The young detective advanced toward this important personage: "Is this the Hotel de Sairmeuse?" he inquired. The Suisse suspended his work to survey the audacious vagabond who ventured to question him, and then in a harsh voice replied: "I advise you to pass on. I want none of your jesting." Lecoq had forgotten that he was clad as a barriere loafer. "Ah," he rejoined, "I'm not what I seem to be.
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."
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