sion nor the malice of your enemies.
For this reason I tell you that if I were in your place I would take
a journey. The frontier is but a few miles away; a good horse, a short
gallop, and you have crossed it. A word to the wise is--salvation!"

And without waiting for any response, he turned and retraced his steps.

M. d'Escorval was amazed and confounded.

"One might suppose there was a conspiracy to drive me away!" he
murmured. "But I have good reason to distrust the disinterestedness of
this young man."

Martial was already far off. Had he been less preoccupied, he would
have perceived two figures in the wood. Mlle. Blanche de Courtornieu,
followed by the inevitable Aunt Medea, had come to play the spy.

CHAPTER XVII

The Marquis de Courtornieu idolized his daughter. Everyone spoke of that
as an incontestable and uncontested fact.

When persons spoke to him of his daughter, they always said:

"You, who adore your daughter----"

And when he spoke of himself, _he_ said:

"I who adore Blanche."

The truth was, that he would have given a good deal, even a third of his
fortune, to be rid of her.

This smiling young girl, who seemed such an artless child, had gained
an absolute control over him. She forced him to bow like a reed to her
every caprice--and Heaven knows she had enough of them!

In the hope of making his escape, he had thrown her Aunt Medea; but in
less than three months that poor woman had been completely subjugated,
and did not serve to divert his daughter's attention from him, even for
a moment.

Sometimes the marquis revolted, but nine times out of ten he paid dearly
for his attempts at rebellion. When Mlle. Blanche turned her cold and
steel-like eyes upon him with a certain peculiar expression, his courage
evaporated. Her weapon was irony; and knowing his weak points, she
struck with wonderful precision.

It is easy to understand how devoutly he prayed and hoped that some
honest young man, by speedily marrying his daughter, would free him from
this cruel bondage.

But where was he to find this liberator?

The marquis had announced everywhere his intention of bestowing a dowry
of a million upon his daughter. Of course this had brought a host of
eager suitors, not only from the immediate neighborhood, but from parts
remote.

But, unfortunately, though many of them would have suited M. de
Courtornieu well enough, not a single one had been so fortunate as to
please Mlle. Blanche.