“A bond of alliance!” rejoined Jean with a threatening gesture. “You are too fast, Monsieur le Marquis! Have you forgotten all the blood that flows between us? You didn’t cut the ropes; but who condemned the Baron d’Escorval to death? Wasn’t it your father, the Duke de Sairmeuse? An alliance! why, you must have forgotten that you and yours sent my father to the scaffold! How have you rewarded the man whose honesty gave you back a fortune? By murdering him and ruining his daughter’s reputation.” “I offered my name and fortune to your sister.” “I would have killed her with my own hand had she accepted your offer. Take that as a proof that I don’t forget; and if any great disgrace ever tarnishes the proud name of Sairmeuse, think of Jean Lacheneur. My hand will be in it.” He was so frantic with passion that he forgot his usual caution. However, after a great effort he re covered his self-possession, and added in calmer tones “If you are so desirous of seeing Maurice, be at La Reche to-morrow at noon. He will be there.” With these words he turned abruptly aside, sprang over the fence skirting the avenue, and vanished into the darkness. “Jean,” cried Martial, in almost supplicating tones; “Jean, come back--listen to me!” There was no reply. The young marquis stood bewildered in the middle of the road; and little short of a miracle prevented his being run over by a horseman galloping in the direction of Montaignac. The latter’s shouts to get out of the way awakened him from his dream, and as the cold night breeze fanned his forehead he was able to collect his thoughts and judge his conduct. Ah, there was no denying it. He, the professed sceptic, a man who, despite his youth, boasted of his indifference and insensibility, had forgotten all self-control. He had acted generously, no doubt, but after all he had created a terrible scandal, all to no purpose. When Blanche, his wife, had accused Marie-Anne of being the cause of his frenzy, she had not been entirely wrong. For though Martial might regard all other opinions with disdain, the thought that Marie-Anne despised him, and considered him a traitor and a coward, had, in truth, made him perfectly frantic. It was for her sake, that on the impulse of the moment he had resorted to such a startling justification. And if he had begged Jean to lead him to Maurice d’Escorval, it was because he hoped to find Marie-Anne not far off, and to say to her, “Appearances were against me, but I am innocent; and have proved it by unmasking the real culprit.” It was to Marie-Anne that he wished Chanlouineau’s circular to be given, thinking that she, at least, would be surprised at his generosity. And yet all his expectations had been disappointed. “It will be the devil to arrange!” he thought; “but nonsense! it will be forgotten in a month. The best way is to face those gossips at once: I will return immediately.” He said: “I will return,” in the most deliberate manner; but his courage grew