ad supposed himself the only visitor at the cottage on the
Reche; and when he discovered that such was not the case, he became
furious.

"Am I, then, the dupe of a shameless girl?" he thought.

He was so incensed, that for more than a week he did not go to
Lacheneur's house.

His father concluded that his ill-humor and gloom was caused by
some misunderstanding with Marie-Anne; and he took advantage of this
opportunity to gain his son's consent to an alliance with Blanche de
Courtornieu.

A victim to the most cruel doubts and fears, Martial, goaded to the last
extremity, exclaimed:

"Very well! I will marry Mademoiselle Blanche."

The duke did not allow such a good resolution to grow cold.

In less than forty-eight hours the engagement was made public; the
marriage contract was drawn up, and it was announced that the wedding
would take place early in the spring.

A grand banquet was given at Sairmeuse in honor of the betrothal--a
banquet all the more brilliant since there were other victories to be
celebrated.

The Duc de Sairmeuse had just received, with his brevet of
lieutenant-general, a commission placing him in command of the military
department of Montaignac.

The Marquis de Courtornieu had also received an appointment, making him
provost-marshal of the same district.

Blanche had triumphed. After this public betrothal Martial was bound to
her.

For a fortnight, indeed, he scarcely left her side. In her society
there was a charm whose sweetness almost made him forget his love for
Marie-Anne.

But unfortunately the haughty heiress could not resist the temptation
to make a slighting allusion to Marie-Anne, and to the lowliness of
the marquis's former tastes. She found an opportunity to say that she
furnished Marie-Anne with work to aid her in earning a living.

Martial forced himself to smile; but the indignity which Marie-Anne had
received aroused his sympathy and indignation.

And the next day he went to Lacheneur's house.

In the warmth of the greeting that awaited him there, all his anger
vanished, all his suspicions evaporated. Marie-Anne's eyes beamed with
joy on seeing him again; he noticed it.

"Oh! I shall win her yet!" he thought.

All the household were really delighted at his return; the son of the
commander of the military forces at Montaignac, and the prospective
son-in-law of the provost-marshal, Martial was a most valuable
instrument.

"Through him, we shall have an eye and