it was whispered that he had already made an enormous fortune from
the Prussians, sacks and sacks of gold pieces, that he buried away
somewhere, one by one, as he received them.

All these stories were a terrible source of alarm to Henriette when she
came to hear of them. Jean, fearing he might endanger the safety of his
hosts, was again eager to get away, although the doctor declared he was
still too weak, and she, saddened by the prospect of their approaching
separation, insisted on his delaying his departure for two weeks. At the
time of Father Fouchard's arrest Jean had escaped a like fate by hiding
in the barn, but he was liable to be taken and led away captive at any
moment should there be further searches made. She was also anxious as to
her uncle's fate, and so she resolved one morning to go to Sedan and
see the Delaherches, who had, it was said, a Prussian officer of great
influence quartered in their house.

"Silvine," she said, as she was about to start, "take good care of
our patient; see he has his bouillon at noon and his medicine at four
o'clock."

The maid of all work, ever busy with her daily recurring tasks, was
again the submissive and courageous woman she had been of old; she had
the care of the farm now, moreover, in the absence of the master, while
little Charlot was constantly at her heels, frisking and gamboling
around her.

"Have no fear, madame, he shall want for nothing. I am here and will
look out for him."

VI.

Life had fallen back into something like its accustomed routine with the
Delaherches at their house in the Rue Maqua after the terrible shock
of the capitulation, and for nearly four months the long days had
been slowly slipping by under the depressing influence of the Prussian
occupation.

There was one corner, however, of the immense structure that was always
closed, as if it had no occupant: it was the chamber that Colonel de
Vineuil still continued to inhabit, at the extreme end of the suite
where the master and his family spent their daily life. While the other
windows were thrown open, affording evidence by sight and sound of
the activity that prevailed within, those of that room were dark and
lifeless, their blinds invariably drawn. The colonel had complained that
the daylight hurt his eyes; no one knew whether or not this was strictly
true, but a lamp was kept burning at his bedside day and night to humor
him in his fancy. For two long months he had kept his