t he deemed it necessary or advisable to make
a complete surrender, what was to become of them--poor devils--without
aid, without counsel, without defence?

They were told that the government was about to betray their interests;
that a decree was in process of preparation which would render their
title-deeds worthless. They could see no hope of salvation, except
through the duke's generosity--that generosity which Chupin painted with
the glowing colors of the rainbow.

When one is not strong enough to weather the gale, one must bow like the
reed before it and rise again after the storm has passed; such was their
conclusion.

And they bowed. And their apparent enthusiasm was all the more
vociferous on account of the rage and fear that filled their hearts.

A close observer would have detected an undercurrent of anger and menace
in their shouts.

Each man also said to himself:

"What do we risk by crying, 'Vive le Duc?' Nothing; absolutely
nothing. If he is contented with that as a compensation for his lost
property--good! If he is not content, we shall have time afterward to
adopt other measures."

So they shouted themselves hoarse.

And while the duke was sipping his coffee in the little drawing-room
of the presbytery, he expressed his lively satisfaction at the scene
without.

He, this _grand seigneur_ of times gone by, this man of absurd
prejudices and obstinate illusions; the unconquerable, and the
incorrigible--he took these acclamations, "truly spurious coin," as
Chateaubriand says, for ready money.

"How you have deceived me, cure," he was saying to Abbe Midon. "How
could you declare that your people were unfavorably disposed toward us?
One is compelled to believe that these evil intentions exist only in
your own mind and in your own heart."

Abbe Midon was silent. What could he reply?

He could not understand this sudden revolution in public opinion--this
abrupt change from gloom and discontent to excessive gayety.

There is somebody at the bottom of all this, he thought.

It was not long before it became apparent who that somebody was.

Emboldened by his success without, Chupin ventured to present himself at
the presbytery.

He entered the drawing-room with his back rounded into a circle,
scraping and cringing, an obsequious smile upon his lips.

And through the half-open door one could discern, in the shadows of the
passage, the far from reassuring faces of his two sons.

He came as an a