THIS was three days after Marie-Anne’s arrival at the Borderie, which event was the general topic of conversation throughout the neighbourhood; Chanlouineau’s will especially forming the subject of countless comments. The old folks looked grave, and repeated to one another, “Ah, well, here’s M. Lacheneur’s daughter with an income of more than two thousand francs, without counting the house.” While the unattractive maidens who had not been fortunate enough to secure husbands muttered in their turn, “An honest girl would have had no such luck as that!” When Chupin brought this great news to Blanche she trembled with anger, and clenched her soft white hands, exclaiming: “What audacity! What impudence!” The old poacher seemed to be of the same opinion. “If each of her lovers gives her as much she will be richer than a queen,” quothed he maliciously. “She will be able to buy up Sairmeuse, and Courtornieu as well if she chooses.” “And this is the woman who has estranged Martial from me!” ejaculated Blanche. “He abandons me for a filthy drab like that!” She was so incensed that she entirely forgot Chupin’s presence, making no attempt to restrain herself, or to hide the secret of her sufferings. “Are you sure that what you tell me is true?” she asked. “As sure as you stand there.” “Who told you all this?” “No one--I have eyes. That is, I overheard two villagers talking about Mademoiselle Lacheneur’s return; so then I went to the Borderie to see for myself, and I found all the shutters open. Marie-Anne was leaning out of a window. She doesn’t even wear mourning, the heartless hussy!” Chupin spoke the truth, but then the only dress the poor girl possessed was the one that Madame d’Escorval had lent her on the night of the insurrection, when it became necessary for her to doff her masculine attire. The old poacher was about to increase Blanche’s irritation by some further malicious remarks, when she checked him with the enquiry--”Whereabouts is the Borderie?” “Oh, about a league and a half from here, opposite the water mills on the Oiselle, and not far from the river bank.” “Ah, yes! I remember now. Were you ever in the house?” “Oh, scores and scores of times while Chanlouineau was living.” “Then you can describe it to me?” “I should think I could. It stands in an open space a little distance from the road. There’s a small garden in front, and an orchard behind. They are both hedged in. In the rear of the orchard, on the right, are the vineyards; while on the left there’s a small grove planted round about a spring.” Chupin paused suddenly in his description, and with a knowing wink, inquired: “But what use do you mean to make of all this information?” “That’s no matter of yours. But tell me, what is the house like inside?” “There are three large square rooms on the ground floor, besides the kitchen and pantry. I can’t say what there is upstairs, as I’ve never been there.” “And what are the rooms you’ve seen furnished like?”