could command a
view of M. Lacheneur's house.

It chanced to be the very day on which M. d'Escorval came to ask an
explanation from his friend. She saw him come; then, after a little,
Martial made his appearance.

She had not been mistaken--now she could go home satisfied.

But no. She resolved to count the seconds which Martial passed with
Marie-Anne.

M. d'Escorval did not remain long; she saw Martial hasten out after him,
and speak to him.

She breathed again. His visit had not lasted a half hour, and doubtless
he was going away. Not at all. After a moment's conversation with the
baron, he returned to the house.

"What are we doing here?" demanded Aunt Medea.

"Let me alone!" replied Mlle. Blanche, angrily; "hold your tongue!"

She heard the sound of wheels, the tramp of horses' hoofs, blows of the
whip, and oaths.

The wagons bearing the furniture and clothing belonging to M. Lacheneur
were coming. This noise Martial must have heard within the house, for
he came out, and after him came M. Lacheneur, Jean, Chanlouineau, and
Marie-Anne.

Everyone was soon busy in unloading the wagons, and positively, from the
movements of the young Marquis de Sairmeuse, one would have sworn that
he was giving orders; he came and went, hurrying to and fro, talking to
everybody, not even disdaining to lend a hand occasionally.

"He, a nobleman, makes himself at home in that wretched hovel!" Mlle.
Blanche said to herself. "How horrible! Ah! this dangerous creature will
do with him whatever she desires."

All this was nothing compared with what was to come. A third wagon
appeared, drawn by a single horse, and laden with pots of flowers and
shrubs.

This sight drew a cry of rage from Mlle. de Courtornieu which must have
carried terror to Aunt Medea's heart.

"Flowers!" she exclaimed, in a voice hoarse with passion. "He sends
flowers to her as he does to me--only he sends me a bouquet, while for
her he despoils the gardens of Sairmeuse."

"What are you saying about flowers?" inquired the impoverished relative.

Mlle. Blanche replied that she had not made the slightest allusion to
flowers. She was suffocating--and yet she compelled herself to remain
there three mortal hours--all the time that was required to unload the
furniture.

The wagons had been gone some time, when Martial again appeared upon the
threshold.

Marie-Anne had accompanied him to the door, and they were talking
together. It seemed impossible for him