... Get out, I know my daughter!... But answer, you villain!...
Morestal, my friend, make him answer ... make him give his proofs....
And you, Suzanne, why don't you spit in his face?"

He turned upon Suzanne; and Marthe, rousing herself from her torpor,
went up to the girl, as he did.

Suzanne stood tottering on her feet, with averted gaze.

"Well, what's this?" roared her father. "Won't you answer either?
Haven't you a word to answer to that liar?"

She tried to speak, stammered a few confused syllables and was silent.

Philippe met her eyes, the eyes of a hunted fawn, a pair of poor eyes
pleading for help.

"You admit it! You admit it!" shouted Jorance.

And he made a sudden rush at her; and Philippe, as in a nightmare, saw
Suzanne flung back, shaken by her father, struck by Marthe, who, she
too, in an abrupt fit of fury, demanded the useless confession.

It was a horrible and violent scene. Le Corbier and M. de Trebons
interfered, while Morestal, shaking his fist at Philippe, cried:

"I curse you! You're a criminal! Let her be, Jorance. She couldn't help
it, poor thing. He is the one to blame.... Yes, you, you, my son!... And
I curse you.... I turn you out...."

The old man pressed his hand to his heart, stammered a few words more,
begging Jorance's pardon and promising to look after his daughter, then
turned on his heels and fell against the table, fainting....

PART III

CHAPTER I

THE ARMED VIGIL

"Ma'am!"

"What is it? What's the matter?" asked Mme. Morestal, waking with a
start.

"It's I, Catherine."

"Well?"

"They have sent from the town-hall, ma'am.... They are asking for the
master.... They want instructions.... Victor says the troops are being
mobilized...."

The day before, after his fainting-fit at the Butte-aux-Loups, old
Morestal was carried back to the Old Mill on a litter by the soldiers of
the detachment. Marthe, who came with him, flung a few words of
explanation to her mother-in-law and, without paying attention to the
good woman's lamentations, without even speaking to her of Philippe and
of what could have become of him, ran to her room and locked herself in.

Dr. Borel was hurriedly sent for. He examined the patient, diagnosed
serious trouble in the region of the heart and refused to give an
opinion.

The house was at sixes and sevens during the evening and all through
that Sunday night. Catherine and Victor ran to and fro. Mme. Morestal,
generally so