t
easily approached."

"We might send Boiscoran to see him, at least. Since he remained
in Paris for the purpose of assisting us there, now he will have an
opportunity. I will write to him to-night."

Since the name of Margeril had been mentioned, the marchioness had
become, if possible, paler than ever. At the old gentleman's last words
she rose, and said anxiously,--

"Do not write, sir: it would be useless. I do not wish it."

Her embarrassment was so evident, that the others were quite surprised.

"Have Boiscoran and M. de Margeril had any difficulty?" asked M. de
Chandore.

"Yes."

"But," cried Dionysia, "it is a matter of life and death for Jacques."

Alas! The poor woman could not speak of the suspicions which had
darkened the whole life of the Marquis de Boiscoran, nor of the
cruel penalty which the wife was now called upon to pay for a slight
imprudence.

"If it is absolutely necessary," she said with a half-stifled voice,
"if that is our very last hope, then I will go and see M. de Margeril
myself."

M. Folgat was the only one who suspected what painful antecedents there
might be in the life of the marchioness, and how she was harassed by
their memory now. He interposed, therefore, saying,--

"At all events, my advice is to await the end of the preliminary
investigation. I may be mistaken, however, and, before any answer is
sent to M. Jacques, I desire that the lawyer to whom he alludes should
be consulted."

"That is certainly the wisest plan," said M. de Chandore. And, ringing
for a servant, he sent him at once to M. Magloire, to ask him to call
after dinner. Jacques de Boiscoran had chosen wisely. M. Magloire was
looked upon in Sauveterre as the most eloquent and most skilful lawyer,
not only of the district, but of the whole province. And what is rarer
still, and far more glorious, he had, besides, the reputation of being
unsurpassed in integrity and a high sense of honor. It was well known
that he would never have consented to plead a doubtful cause; and they
told of him a number of heroic stories, in which he had thrown clients
out of the window, who had been so ill-advised to come to him, money in
hand, to ask him to undertake an unclean case. He was naturally not
a rich man, and preserved, at fifty-four or five, all the habits of a
frugal and thrifty young man.

After having married quite young, M. Magloire had lost his wife after a
few months, and had never recovered from the loss. A