l combined to distract her thoughts from herself.
She forgot her fears; a sort of haze enveloped the terrible scene at the
Borderie; the clamors of conscience sank into faint whispers.

The past seemed fading away, and she was beginning to entertain hopes of
a new and better life, when one day a servant entered, and said:

"There is a man below who wishes to speak with Madame."

CHAPTER LII

Half reclining upon a sofa, Mme. Blanche was listening to a new book
which Aunt Medea was reading aloud, and she did not even raise her head
as the servant delivered his message.

"A man?" she asked, carelessly; "what man?"

She was expecting no one; it must be one of the laborers employed by
Martial.

"I cannot inform Madame," replied the servant. "He is quite a young man;
is dressed like a peasant, and is perhaps, seeking a place."

"It is probably the marquis whom he desires to see."

"Madame will excuse me, but he said particularly that he desired to
speak to her."

"Ask his name and his business, then. Go on, aunt," she added; "we have
been interrupted in the most interesting portion."

But Aunt Medea had not time to finish the page when the servant
reappeared.

"The man says Madame will understand his business when she hears his
name."

"And his name?"

"Chupin."

It was as if a bomb-shell had exploded in the room.

Aunt Medea, with a shriek, dropped her book, and sank back, half
fainting, in her chair.

Blanche sprang up with a face as colorless as her white cashmere
_peignoir_, her eyes troubled, her lips trembling.

"Chupin!" she repeated, as if she hoped the servant would tell her she
had not understood him correctly; "Chupin!"

Then angrily:

"Tell this man that I will not see him, I will not see him, do you
hear?"

But before the servant had time to bow respectfully and retire, the
young marquise changed her mind.

"One moment," said she; "on reflection I think I will see him. Bring him
up."

The servant withdrew, and the two ladies looked at each other in silent
consternation.

"It must be one of Chupin's sons," faltered Blanche, at last.

"Undoubtedly; but what does he desire?"

"Money, probably." Aunt Medea lifted her eyes to heaven.

"God grant that he knows nothing of your meetings with his father!
Blessed Jesus! what if he should know."

"You are not going to despair in advance! We shall know all in a few
moments. Pray be calm. Turn your back to us; look out into the stree