vering from M. de Courtornieu's face--he was almost
compelled to use force to do it--examined the patient with evident
anxiety, then ordered mustard plasters, applications of ice to the head,
leeches, and a potion, for which a servant was to gallop to Montaignac
at once. All was bustle and confusion.

When the physician left the sick-room, Mme. Blanche followed him.

"Well, Doctor," she said, with a questioning look.

With considerable hesitation, he replied:

"People sometimes recover from such attacks."

It really mattered little to Blanche whether her father recovered or
died, but she felt that an opportunity to recover her lost _prestige_
was now afforded her. If she desired to turn public opinion against
Martial, she must improvise for herself an entirely different
reputation. If she could erect a pedestal upon which she could pose as a
patient victim, her satisfaction would be intense. Such an occasion now
offered itself, and she seized it at once.

Never did a devoted daughter lavish more touching and delicate
attentions upon a sick father. It was impossible to induce her to leave
his bedside for a moment. It was only with great difficulty that they
could persuade her to sleep for a couple of hours, in an armchair in the
sick-room.

But while she was playing the role of Sister of Charity, which she had
imposed upon herself, her thoughts followed Chupin. What was he doing in
Montaignac? Was he watching Martial as he had promised? How slow the day
appointed for the meeting was in coming!

It came at last, however, and after intrusting her father to the care of
Aunt Medea, Blanche made her escape.

The old poacher was awaiting her at the appointed place.

"Speak!" said Mme. Blanche.

"I would do so willingly, only I have nothing to tell you."

"What! you have not watched the marquis?"

"Your husband? Excuse me, I have followed him; like his own shadow. But
what would you have me say to you; since the duke left for Paris, your
husband has charge of everything. Ah! you would not recognize him! He
is always busy now. He is up at cock-crow and he goes to bed with
the chickens. He writes letters all the morning. In the afternoon he
receives all who call upon him. The retired officers are hand and glove
in with him. He has reinstated five or six of them, and he has granted
pensions to two others. He seldom goes out, and never in the evening."

He paused and for more than a minute Blanche was silent. She wa