on the instant, in the presence of
the revellers," he exclaimed.

But Jean interrupted him.

"No, not that! They are cowards; they would arrest you. Write; I will be
the bearer of the letter."

Corporal Bavois heard them; but he did not oppose their folly. He
thought it all perfectly natural, under the circumstances, and esteemed
them the more for their rashness.

Forgetful of prudence they entered the first shop, and the challenge was
written and confided to Jean Lacheneur.

CHAPTER XXXVIII

To disturb the merrymaking at the Chateau de Sairmeuse; to change the
joy of the bridal-day into sadness; to cast a gloom over the nuptials of
Martial and Mlle. Blanche de Courtornieu.

This, in truth, was all that Jean Lacheneur hoped to do.

As for believing that Martial, triumphant and happy, would accept the
challenge of Maurice, a miserable outlaw, he did not believe it.

While awaiting Martial in the vestibule of the chateau, he armed himself
against the scorn and sneers which he would probably receive from this
haughty nobleman whom he had come to insult.

But Martial's kindly greeting had disconcerted him a little.

But he was reassured when he saw the terrible effect produced upon the
marquis by the insulting letter.

"We have cut him to the quick," he thought.

When Martial seized him by the arm and led him upstairs, he made no
resistance.

While they traversed the brightly lighted drawing-rooms and passed
through the crowd of astonished guests, Jean thought neither of his
heavy shoes nor of his peasant dress.

Breathless with anxiety, he wondered what was to come.

He soon knew.

Leaning against the gilded door-post, he witnessed the terrible scene in
the little salon.

He saw Martial de Sairmeuse, frantic with passion, cast into the face of
his father-in-law Maurice d'Escorval's letter.

One might have supposed that all this did not affect him in the least,
he stood so cold and unmoved, with compressed lips and downcast eyes;
but appearances were deceitful. His heart throbbed with wild exultation;
and if he cast down his eyes, it was only to conceal the joy that
sparkled there.

He had not hoped for so prompt and so terrible a revenge.

Nor was this all.

After brutally repulsing Blanche, his newly wedded wife, who attempted
to detain him, Martial again seized Jean Lacheneur's arm.

"Now," said he, "follow me!"

Jean followed him still without a word.

They again crossed the grand h