his complexion sunburned. He was somewhat gloomy, and seemed to
care for nothing but to talk with a very faded and wrinkled old woman in
a tall goffered cap, who was an object of veneration to everybody. This
was Mlle. Querey. All were aware she had been Mme. de Combray's
confidante and knew all the Marquise's secrets: and she was often seen
talking at great length to Bonnoeil about the past.

Bonnoeil died at Tournebut in 1846, at the age of eighty-four, and the
manor of Marillac did not long outlast him. Put up for sale in 1856, it
was demolished in the following year and replaced by a large and
splendid villa. While the walls of the old chateau were being
demolished, the peasants of Aubevoye, who had so often listened to the
legends concerning it, displayed great curiosity as to the mysteries
which the demolition would disclose. Nothing was discovered but a partly
filled up subterranean passage, which seemed to run towards the small
chateau. The secret of the other hiding-places had long been known. A
careful examination of the old dwelling produced only one surprise. A
portmanteau containing 3,000 francs in crowns and double-louis was found
in a dark attic. Mme. de Combray's grandchildren knew so little of the
drama of their house, that no one thought of connecting this find with
the affairs of Quesnay, of which they had scarcely ever heard. It seems
probable that this portmanteau belonged to the lawyer Lefebre and was
hidden by him, unknown to the Marquise, in the hope of being able to
recover it later on.

A very few words will suffice to tell the fate of the other actors in
this drama. Licquet was unfortunate; but first of all he asked for the
cross of the Legion of Honour. "I have served the government for twenty
years," he wrote to Real. "I bristle with titles. I am the father of a
family and am looked up to by the authorities. My only ambition is
honour, and I am bold enough to ask for a sign. Will you be kind enough
to obtain it for me?" Did Real not dare to stand sponsor for such a
candidate? Did they think that the cross, given hitherto so
parsimoniously to civilians, was not meant for the police? Licquet was
obliged to wait in patience. In the hope of increasing his claims to the
honour he coveted, he went in quest of new achievements, and had the
good fortune to discover a second attack on a coach, far less
picturesque, as a matter of fact, than the one to which he owed his
fame, but which he undertook t