ed to kill yesterday
upon the square, because he was disrespectful to the duke. He is an
avaricious man; and if Marie-Anne does not bring him a good round sum as
a dowry, he will never marry her, no matter how beautiful she may be."

"Are you sure of what you say?"

"It is true. My eldest son heard from Chanlouineau and from Lacheneur
that the wedding would take place within a month."

And turning to his son:

"Is it not true, boy?"

"Yes," promptly replied the youth, who had heard nothing of the kind.

Martial was silent, ashamed, perhaps, of allowing himself to listen
to the gossip, but glad to have been informed of such an important
circumstance.

If Chupin was not telling a falsehood--and what reason could he have for
doing so--it became evident that M. Lacheneur's conduct concealed some
great mystery. Why, without some potent motive, should he have refused
to give his daughter to Maurice d'Escorval whom she loved, to bestow her
upon a peasant?

As he reached Sairmeuse, he was swearing that he would discover this
motive. A strange scene awaited him. In the broad open space extending
from the front of the chateau to the _parterre_ lay a huge pile of all
kinds of clothing, linen, plate, and furniture. One might have supposed
that the occupants of the chateau were moving. A half dozen men were
running to and fro, and standing in the centre of the rubbish was the
Duc de Sairmeuse, giving orders.

Martial did not understand the whole meaning of the scene at first. He
went to his father, and after saluting him respectfully, inquired:

"What is all this?"

M. de Sairmeuse laughed heartily.

"What! can you not guess?" he replied. "It is very simple, however. When
the lawful master, on his return, sleeps beneath the bed-coverings of
the usurper, it is delightful, the first night, not so pleasant on the
second. Everything here reminds me too forcibly of Monsieur Lacheneur.
It seems to me that I am in his house; and the thought is unendurable.
So I have had them collect everything belonging to him and to his
daughter--everything, in fact, which did not belong to the chateau in
former years. The servants will put it all into a cart and carry it to
him."

The young marquis gave fervent thanks to Heaven that he had arrived
before it was too late. Had his father's project been executed, he would
have been obliged to bid farewell to all his hopes.

"You surely will not do this, Monsieur le Duc?" said he, earnestly