, "Chupin tells me you are
always at Lacheneur's. When will you recover from your _penchant_ for
that little girl?"

Martial did not reply. He felt that he was at that "little girl's"
mercy. Each glance of hers made his heart throb wildly. By her side
he was a willing captive. If she had asked him to make her his wife he
would not have said no.

But Marie-Anne had not this ambition. All her thoughts, all her wishes
were for her father's success.

Maurice and Marie-Anne had become M. Lacheneur's most intrepid
auxiliaries. They were looking forward to such a magnificent reward.

Such feverish activity as Maurice displayed! All day long he hurried
from hamlet to hamlet, and in the evening, as soon as dinner was over,
he made his escape from the drawing-room, sprang into his boat, and
hastened to the Reche.

M. d'Escorval could not fail to remark the long and frequent absences
of his son. He watched him, and soon became absolutely certain that
Lacheneur had, to use the baron's own expression, seduced him.

Greatly alarmed, he decided to go and see his former friend, and fearing
another repulse, he begged Abbe Midon to accompany him.

It was on the 4th of March, at about half-past four o'clock, that M.
d'Escorval and the cure started for the Reche. They were so anxious
and troubled in mind that they scarcely exchanged a dozen words as they
wended their way onward.

A strange sight met their eyes as they emerged from the grove on the
Reche.

Night was falling, but it was still light enough for them to distinguish
objects only a short distance from them.

Before Lacheneur's house stood a group of about a dozen persons, and M.
Lacheneur was speaking and gesticulating excitedly.

What was he saying? Neither the baron nor the priest could distinguish
his words, but when he ceased, the most vociferous acclamations rent the
air.

Suddenly a match glowed between his fingers; he set fire to a bundle of
straw and tossed it upon the thatched roof of his cottage, crying out in
a terrible voice:

"The die is cast! This will prove to you that I shall not draw back!"

Five minutes later the house was in flames.

In the distance the baron and his companion saw the windows of the
citadel at Montaignac illuminated by a red glare, and upon every
hill-side glowed the light of other incendiary fires.

The country was responding to Lacheneur's signal.

CHAPTER XX

Ah! ambition is a fine thing!

The Duc de Sairmeuse a