e Martial had presented himself at Courtornieu; and
Blanche was half crazed with grief and rage.

What Aunt Medea was forced to endure during this interval, only poor
dependents in rich families can understand.

For the first three days Mlle. Blanche succeeded in preserving a
semblance of self-control; on the fourth she could endure it no longer,
and in spite of the breach of "_les convenances_" which it involved, she
sent a messenger to Sairmeuse to inquire for Martial. Was he ill--had he
gone away?

The messenger was informed that the marquis was perfectly well, but,
as he spent the entire day, from early morn to dewy eve, in hunting, he
went to bed every evening as soon as supper was over.

What a horrible insult! Still, she was certain that Martial, on hearing
what she had done, would hasten to her to make his excuses. Vain hope!
He did not come; he did not even condescend to give one sign of life.

"Ah! doubtless he is with her," she said to Aunt Medea. "He is on his
knees before that miserable Marie-Anne--his mistress."

For she had finished by believing--as is not unfrequently the case--the
very calumnies which she herself had invented.

In this extremity she decided to make her father her confidant; and she
wrote him a note announcing her coming.

She wished her father to compel Lacheneur to leave the country. This
would be an easy matter for him, since he was armed with discretionary
authority at an epoch when lukewarm devotion afforded an abundant excuse
for sending a man into exile.

Fully decided upon this plan, Blanche became calmer on leaving the
chateau; and her hopes overflowed in incoherent phrases, to which poor
Aunt Medea listened with her accustomed resignation.

"At last I shall be rid of this shameless creature!" she exclaimed. "We
will see if he has the audacity to follow her! Will he follow her? Oh,
no; he dare not!"

When the carriage passed through the village of Sairmeuse, Mlle. Blanche
noticed an unwonted animation.

There were lights in every house, the saloons seemed full of drinkers,
and groups of people were standing upon the public square and upon the
doorsteps.

But what did this matter to Mlle. de Courtornieu! It was not until they
were a mile or so from Sairmeuse that she was startled from her revery.

"Listen, Aunt Medea," she said, suddenly. "Do you hear anything?"

The poor dependent listened. Both occupants of the carriage heard shouts
that became more and more d