ut on the left side is a small grove that shades a spring."

He paused suddenly, and with a knowing wink, inquired:

"But what use do you expect to make of all this information?"

"What does that matter to you? How is the interior arranged?"

"There are three large square rooms on the ground floor, besides the
kitchen and a small dark room."

"Now, what is on the floor above?"

"I have never been up there."

"How are the rooms furnished which you have visited?"

"Like those in any peasant's house."

Certainly no one was aware of the existence of the luxurious apartment
which Chanlouineau had intended for Marie-Anne. He had never spoken of
it, and had even taken the greatest precautions to prevent anyone from
seeing him transport the furniture.

"How many doors are there?" inquired Blanche.

"Three; one opening into the garden, another into the orchard, another
communicating with the stables. The staircase leading to the floor above
is in the middle room."

"And is Marie-Anne alone at the Borderie?"

"Entirely alone at present; but I suppose it will not be long before her
brigand of a brother joins her."

Mme. Blanche fell into a revery so deep and so prolonged that Chupin at
last became impatient.

He ventured to touch her upon the arm, and, in a wily voice, he said:
"Well, what shall we decide?"

Blanche shuddered like a wounded man on hearing the terrible click of
the surgeon's instruments.

"My mind is not yet made up," she replied. "I must reflect--I will see."

And remarking the old poacher's discontented face, she said, vehemently:

"I will do nothing lightly. Do not lose sight of Martial. If he goes
to the Borderie, and he will go there, I must be informed of it. If he
writes, and he will write, try to procure one of his letters. I must see
you every other day. Do not rest! Strive to deserve the good place I am
reserving for you at Courtornieu. Go!"

He departed without a word, but also without attempting to conceal his
disappointment and chagrin.

"It serves you right for listening to a silly, affected woman," he
growled. "She fills the air with her ravings; she wishes to kill
everybody, to burn and destroy everything. She only asks for an
opportunity. The occasion presents itself, and her heart fails her. She
draws back--she is afraid!"

Chupin did Mme. Blanche great injustice. The movement of horror which
he had observed was the instinctive revolt of the flesh, and not a
faltering o