s, and because it seemed
necessary for me to marry, and because all women, save one who can never
be mine, are alike to me."

Such utterances were not at all calculated to reassure the duke.

"This sentiment is very noble, no doubt," said he; "but it has none the
less ruined the political prospects of our house."

An almost imperceptible smile curved Martial's lips.

"I believe, on the contrary, that I have saved them," he replied.

"It is useless for us to attempt to deceive ourselves; this whole affair
of the insurrection has been abominable, and you have good reason to
bless the opportunity of freeing yourself from the responsibility of it
which this quarrel gives you. With a little address, you can throw all
the odium upon the Marquis de Courtornieu, and keep for yourself only
the prestige of valuable service rendered."

The duke's face brightened.

"Zounds, Marquis!" he exclaimed; "that is a good idea! In the future I
shall be infinitely less afraid of Courtornieu."

Martial remained thoughtful.

"It is not the Marquis de Courtornieu whom I fear," he murmured, "but
his daughter--my wife."

CHAPTER XLI

One must have lived in the country to know with what inconceivable
rapidity news flies from mouth to mouth.

Strange as it may seem, the news of the scene at the chateau reached
Father Poignot's farm-house that same evening.

It had not been three hours since Maurice, Jean Lacheneur and Bavois
left the house, promising to re-cross the frontier that same night.

Abbe Midon had decided to say nothing to M. d'Escorval of his son's
return, and to conceal Marie-Anne's presence in the house. The baron's
condition was so critical that the merest trifle might turn the scale.

About ten o'clock the baron fell asleep, and the abbe and Mme.
d'Escorval went downstairs to talk with Marie-Anne. As they were sitting
there Poignot's eldest son entered in a state of great excitement.

After supper he had gone with some of his acquaintances to admire
the splendors of the fete, and he now came rushing back to relate the
strange events of the evening to his father's guests.

"It is inconceivable!" murmured the abbe.

He knew but too well, and the others comprehended it likewise, that
these strange events rendered their situation more perilous than ever.

"I cannot understand how Maurice could commit such an act of folly after
what I had just said to him. The baron's most cruel enemy has been his
own son. We mu