The notary, thus interrupted, made no further attempts at divination. “Plague on it!” he thought, “she is in a hurry to get possession of her property--the avaricious creature!” Then he added aloud, “The business can be finished at once, for the magistrate is at liberty to-day, and can go with us to break the seals this afternoon.” So, before evening, all the legal requirements complied with, and Marie-Anne was formally installed at the Borderie. She was alone in Chanlouineau’s house, and as the darkness gathered round her, a great terror seized hold of her heart. She fancied that the doors were about to open, that this man who had loved her so much would suddenly appear before her, and that she should hear his voice again as she heard it for the last time in his grim prison cell. She struggled hard against these foolish fears, and at last lighting a lamp she ventured to wander through this house--now her’s--but wherein everything spoke so forcibly of its former owner. She slowly examined the different rooms on the ground floor, noting the recent repairs and improvements, and at last climbed the stairs to the room above which Chanlouineau had designed to be the altar of his love. Strange as it may seem, it was really luxuriously upholstered--far more so than Chanlouineau’s letter had led her to suppose. The young farmer, who for years had breakfasted off a crust and an onion, had lavished a small fortune on this apartment, which he meant to be his idol’s sanctuary. “How he loved me!” murmured Marie-Anne, moved by that emotion, the bare thought of which had awakened Maurice’s jealousy. But she had neither the time nor the right to yield to her feelings. At that very moment Father Poignot was no doubt waiting for her at the appointed meeting place. Accordingly, she swiftly raised the hearth-stone, and found the money which Chanlouineau had mentioned. She handed the larger part of it to Poignot, who in his turn gave it to the abbe on reaching home.