angry response. But he was not a man to yield to his first
impulse--this former chamberlain under the Emperor, now become a _grand
prevot_ under the Restoration.

He reflected. Should he, on account of a sharp word, quarrel with
Martial--with the only suitor who had pleased his daughter? A
rupture--then he would be left without any prospect of a son-in-law!
When would Heaven send him such another? And how furious Mlle. Blanche
would be!

He concluded to swallow the bitter pill; and it was with a paternal
indulgence of manner that he said:

"You are young, my dear Martial."

The baron was still kneeling by the partition, his ear glued to the
crevices, holding his breath in an agony of suspense.

"You are only twenty, my dear Martial," pursued the Marquis de
Courtornieu; "you possess the ardent enthusiasm and generosity of youth.
Complete your undertaking; I shall interpose no obstacle; but remember
that all may be discovered--and then----"

"Have no fears, sir," interrupted the young marquis; "I have taken every
precaution. Did you see a single soldier in the corridor, just now? No.
That is because my father has, at my solicitation, assembled all the
officers and guards under pretext of ordering exceptional precautions.
He is talking to them now. This gave me an opportunity to come here
unobserved. No one will see me when I go out. Who, then, will dare
suspect me of having any hand in the baron's escape?"

"If the baron escapes, justice will demand to know who aided him."

Martial laughed.

"If justice seeks to know, she will find a culprit of my providing.
Go now; I have told you all. I had but one person to fear: that was
yourself. A trusty messenger requested you to join me here. You came;
you know all, you have agreed to remain neutral. I am tranquil. The
baron will be safe in Piedmont when the sun rises."

He picked up his lantern, and added, gayly:

"But let us go--my father cannot harangue those soldiers forever."

"But," insisted M. de Courtornieu, "you have not told me----"

"I will tell you all, but not here. Come, come!"

They went out, locking the door behind them; and then the baron rose
from his knees.

All sorts of contradictory ideas, doubts, and conjectures filled his
mind.

What could this letter have contained? Why had not Chanlouineau used it
to procure his own salvation? Who would have believed that Martial would
be so faithful to a promise wrested from him by threats?

But thi