le as death, staggered and said only one word.

"Infamous!"

"What must I say to Maurice?" insisted Jean. "What do you intend to do?"

With a terrible effort Martial had conquered his weakness. He seemed to
deliberate for ten seconds, then seizing Jean's arm, he dragged him up
the staircase, saying:

"Come--you shall see."

Martial's countenance had changed so much during the three minutes
he had been absent that there was an exclamation of terror when he
reappeared, holding an open letter in one hand and leading with the
other a young peasant whom no one recognized.

"Where is my father?" he demanded, in a husky voice; "where is the
Marquis de Courtornieu?"

The duke and the marquis were with Mme. Blanche in the little salon at
the end of the main hall.

Martial hastened there, followed by a crowd of wondering guests, who,
foreseeing a stormy scene, were determined not to lose a syllable.

He walked directly to M. de Courtornieu, who was standing by the
fireplace, and handing him the letter:

"Read!" said he, in a terrible voice.

M. de Courtornieu obeyed. He became livid; the paper trembled in his
hands; his eyes fell, and he was obliged to lean against the marble
mantel for support.

"I do not understand," he stammered: "no, I do not understand."

The duke and Mme. Blanche both sprang forward.

"What is it?" they asked in a breath; "what has happened?"

With a rapid movement, Martial tore the paper from the hands of the
Marquis de Courtornieu, and addressing his father:

"Listen to this letter," he said, imperiously.

Three hundred people were assembled there, but the silence was so
profound that the voice of the young marquis penetrated to the farthest
extremity of the hall as he read:

"Monsieur le marquis--In exchange for a dozen lines that threatened you
with ruin, you promised us, upon the honor of your name, the life of
Baron d'Escorval.

"You did, indeed, bring the ropes by which he was to make his escape,
but they had been previously cut, and my father was precipitated to the
rocks below.

"You have forfeited your honor, Monsieur. You have soiled your name with
ineffaceable opprobrium. While so much as a drop of blood remains in my
veins, I will leave no means untried to punish you for your cowardice
and vile treason.

"By killing me you would, it is true, escape the chastisement I am
reserving for you. Consent to fight with me. Shall I await you to-morrow
on the Reche? At what h