be our masters," growled Lacheneur.

By some strange fatality no one chanced to hear the remark made by M.
Lacheneur. Had they overheard and questioned him, he would probably have
disclosed some of the projects which were as yet in embryo in his own
mind; and in that case what disastrous consequences might have been
averted.

M. d'Escorval had regained his usual coolness.

"Now, my dear friend," he inquired, "what course do you propose to
pursue with these members of the Sairmeuse family?"

"They will hear nothing more from me--for some time, at least."

"What! Shall you not claim the ten thousand francs that they owe you?"

"I shall ask them for nothing."

"You will be compelled to do so. Since you have alluded to the legacy,
your own honor will demand that you insist upon its payment by all legal
methods. There are still judges in France."

M. Lacheneur shook his head.

"The judges will not accord me the justice I desire. I shall not apply
to them."

"But----"

"No, Monsieur, no. I wish to have nothing to do with these men. I
shall not even go to the chateau to remove my clothing nor that of my
daughter. If they send it to us--very well. If it pleases them to keep
it, so much the better. The more shameful, infamous and odious their
conduct appears, the better I shall be satisfied."

The baron made no reply; but his wife spoke, believing she had a sure
means of conquering this incomprehensible obstinacy.

"I should understand your determination if you were alone in the world,"
said she, "but you have children."

"My son is eighteen, Madame; he possesses good health and an excellent
education. He can make his own way in Paris, if he chooses to remain
there."

"But your daughter?"

"Marie-Anne will remain with me."

M. d'Escorval thought it his duty to interfere.

"Take care, my dear friend, that your grief does not overthrow your
reason," said he. "Reflect! What will become of you--your daughter and
yourself?"

The wretched man smiled sadly.

"Oh," he replied, "we are not as destitute as I said. I exaggerated our
misfortune. We are still landed proprietors. Last year an old cousin,
whom I could never induce to come and live at Sairmeuse, died,
bequeathing all her property to Marie-Anne. This property consisted of a
poor little cottage near the Reche, with a little garden and a few acres
of sterile land. In compliance with my daughter's entreaties, I repaired
the cottage, and sent there a few