now very well that you hate the Sairmeuse now--but----"

"But what!"

"In less than a month you will be reconciled. And you will pay the
expenses of the war and of the reconciliation? That old wretch,
Chupin----"

"We shall never be reconciled."

"Hum!" he growled, after deliberating awhile. "And if I should aid you,
what compensation will you give me?"

"I will give you whatever you desire--money, land, a house----"

"Many thanks. I desire something quite different."

"What? Name your conditions."

Chupin reflected a moment, then he replied:

"This is what I desire. _I_ have enemies--I do not even feel safe in my
own house. My sons abuse me when I have been drinking; my wife is quite
capable of poisoning my wine; I tremble for my life and for my money.
I cannot endure this existence much longer. Promise me an asylum in the
Chateau de Courtornieu, and I am yours. In your house I shall be safe.
But let it be understood, I will not be ill-treated by the servants as I
was at Sairmeuse."

"It shall be as you desire."

"Swear it by your hope of heaven."

"I swear."

There was such an evident sincerity in her accent that Chupin was
reassured. He leaned toward her, and said, in a low voice:

"Now tell me your business."

His small gray eyes glittered with a demoniac light; his thin lips were
tightly drawn over his sharp teeth; he was evidently expecting some
proposition to murder, and he was ready.

His attitude showed this so plainly that Blanche shuddered.

"Really, what I ask of you is almost nothing," she replied. "I only wish
you to watch the Marquis de Sairmeuse."

"Your husband?"

"Yes; my husband. I wish to know what he does, where he goes, and what
persons he sees. I wish to know how each moment of his time is spent."

"What! seriously, frankly, is this all that you desire of me?" Chupin
asked.

"For the present, yes. My plans are not yet decided. It depends upon
circumstances what action I shall take."

"You can rely upon me," he responded; "but I must have a little time."

"Yes, I understand. To-day is Saturday; will you be ready to report on
Thursday?"

"In five days? Yes, probably."

"In that case, meet me here on Thursday, at this same hour."

A cry from Aunt Medea interrupted them.

"Someone is coming!" Mme. Blanche exclaimed. "Quick! we must not be seen
together. Conceal yourself."

With a bound the old poacher disappeared in the forest.

A servant had approached Aunt Mede