the twilight with a quick, alert step, he felt a sudden doubt
of Chanlouineau's sincerity.

"Can it be that this miserable peasant has deceived me?" he thought.

So strong was this suspicion that he hastened after her, determined to
question her--to ascertain the truth--to arrest her, if necessary.

But he no longer possessed the agility of youth, and when he reached the
gateway the guard told him that Mlle. Lacheneur had already passed out.
He rushed out after her, looked about on every side, but could see no
trace of her. He re-entered the citadel, furious with himself for his
own credulity.

"Still, I can visit Chanlouineau," thought he, "and to-morrow will be
time enough to summon this creature and question her."

"This creature" was even then hastening up the long, ill-paved street
that led to the Hotel de France.

Regardless of self, and of the curious gaze of a few passers-by, she ran
on, thinking only of shortening the terrible anxiety which her friends
at the hotel must be enduring.

"All is not lost!" she exclaimed, on re-entering the room.

"My God, Thou hast heard my prayers!" murmured the baroness.

Then, suddenly seized by a horrible dread, she added:

"Do not attempt to deceive me. Are you not trying to delude me with
false hopes? That would be cruel!"

"I am not deceiving you, Madame, Chanlouineau has given me a weapon,
which, _I_ hope and believe, places the Duc de Sairmeuse in our power.
He is omnipotent in Montaignac; the only man who could oppose him,
Monsieur de Courtornieu, is his friend. I believe that Monsieur
d'Escorval can be saved."

"Speak!" cried Maurice; "what must we do?"

"Pray and wait, Maurice. I must act alone in this matter, but be assured
that I--the cause of all your misfortune--will leave nothing undone
which is possible for mortal to do."

Absorbed in the task which she had imposed upon herself, Marie-Anne had
failed to remark a stranger who had arrived during her absence--an old
white-haired peasant.

The abbe called her attention to him.

"Here is a courageous friend," said he, "who since morning, has been
searching for you everywhere, in, order to give you news of your
father."

Marie-Anne was so overcome that she could scarcely falter her gratitude.

"Oh, you need not thank me," answered the brave peasant. "I said to
myself: 'The poor girl must be terribly anxious. I ought to relieve her
of her misery.' So I came to tell you that Monsieur Lacheneur is saf