Unfortunately, however, for M. de Courtornieu’s projects, he was extremely ill for three days after the scene at Sairmeuse; and then he wasted three days more in composing a report, which was intended to crush his former ally. This delay ruined him, for it gave Martial time to perfect his plans, and to despatch the Duke de Sairmeuse to Paris with full instructions. And what did the duke say to the king, who gave him such a gracious reception? He undoubtedly pronounced the first reports to be false, reduced the rising at Montaignac to its proper proportions, represented Lacheneur as a fool, and his followers as inoffensive idiots. It was said, moreover, that he led his majesty to suppose that the Marquis de Courtornieu might have provoked the outbreak by undue severity. He had served under Napoleon, and had possibly thought it necessary to make a display of his zeal, so that his past apostacy might be forgotten. As far as the duke himself was concerned, he deeply deplored the mistakes into which he had been led by his ambitious colleague, on whom he cast most of the responsibility of so much bloodshed. To be brief, the result of the duke’s journey was, that when the Marquis de Courtornieu’s report reached Paris, it was answered by a decree depriving him of his office as provost-marshal of the province. This unexpected blow quite crushed the old intriguer. What! he had been duped in this fashion, he so shrewd, so adroit, so subtle minded and quick witted; he who had successfully battled with so many storms; who, unlike most of his fellow patricians, had been enriched, not impoverished, by the Revolution, and who had served with the same obsequious countenance each master who was willing to accept his services. “It must be that old imbecile, the Duke de Sairmeuse, who has manœuvred so skilfully,” he groaned. “But who advised him? I can’t imagine who it could have been.” Who it was Blanche knew only too well. Like Marie-Anne, she recognized Martial’s hand in all this business. “Ah! I was not deceived in him,” she thought; “he is the great diplomatist I believed him to be. To think that at his age he has outwitted my father, an old politician of such experience and acknowledged skill! And he does all this to please Marie-Anne,” she continued, frantic with rage. “It is the first step towards obtaining pardon for that vile creature’s friends. She has unbounded influence over him, and so long as she lives there is no hope for me. But, patience, my time will come.”