the Sairmeuse family. Then he went to his old home, where
his wife and his two boys still lived.

He seldom left the house, and then only to satisfy his passion for
hunting. At such times, instead of hiding and surrounding himself with
every precaution, as he had done, before shooting a squirrel or a few
partridges, in former times, he went boldly to the Sairmeuse or the
Courtornieu forests, shot his game, and brought it home openly, almost
defiantly.

The rest of the time he spent in a state of semi-intoxication, for he
drank constantly and more and more immoderately. When he had taken more
than usual, his wife and his sons generally attempted to obtain money
from him, and if persuasions failed they resorted to blows.

For he had never given them the reward of his treason. What had he done
with the twenty thousand francs in gold which had been paid him? No one
knew. His sons believed he had buried it somewhere; but they tried in
vain to wrest his secret from him.

All the people in the neighborhood were aware of this state of affairs,
and regarded it as a just punishment for the traitor. Mme. Blanche
overheard one of the gardeners telling the story to two of his
assistants:

"Ah, the man is an old scoundrel!" he said, his face crimson with
indignation. "He should be in the galleys, and not at large among
respectable people."

"He is a man who would serve your purpose," the voice of hatred
whispered in Blanche's ear.

"But how can I find an opportunity to confer with him?" she wondered.
Mme. Blanche was too prudent to think of hazarding a visit to his house,
but she remembered that he hunted occasionally in the Courtornieu woods,
and that it might be possible for her to meet him there.

"It will only require a little perseverance and a few long walks," she
said to herself.

But it cost poor Aunt Medea, the inevitable chaperon, two long weeks of
almost continued walking.

"Another freak!" groaned the poor relative, overcome with fatigue; "my
niece is certainly crazy!"

But one lovely afternoon in May Blanche discovered what she sought.

It was in a sequestered spot near the lake. Chupin was tramping sullenly
along with his gun and glancing suspiciously on every side! Not that
he feared the game-keeper or a verbal process, but wherever he went, he
fancied he saw Balstain walking in his shadow, with that terrible knife
in his hand.

Seeing Mme. Blanche he tried to hide himself in the forest, but she
preve