It seemed as if a bomb-shell had burst into the room. Aunt Medea dropped her book with a shriek, and sank back, half fainting in her chair. Blanche sprang up with a face as colourless as her white cashmere morning dress, her eyes dazed, and her lips trembling. “Chupin,” she repeated, as if she almost hoped the servant would tell her she had not understood him correctly; “Chupin!” Then angrily, she added: “Tell this man I won’t see him, I won’t see him, do you hear?” But before the servant had time to bow and retire, the young marchioness changed her mind. “One moment,” said she; “on reflection I think I will see him. Bring him up.” The servant then withdrew, and the two ladies looked at each other in silent consternation. “It must be one of Chupin’s sons,” faltered Blanche at last. “No doubt; but what does he desire.” “Money, probably.” Aunt Medea raised her eyes to heaven. “God grant that he knows nothing of your meetings with his father!” said she. “You are not going to despair in advance, are you, aunt? We shall know everything in a few minutes. Pray remain calm. Turn your back to us; look out of the window into the street and don’t let him see your face.” Blanche was not deceived. This unexpected visitor was indeed Chupin’s eldest son; the one to whom the dying poacher had confided his secret. Since his arrival in Paris, the young fellow had been running in every direction, inquiring everywhere and of everybody for the Marquis de Sairmeuse’s address. At last he obtained it; and he lost no time in presenting himself at the Hotel Meurice. He was now awaiting the result of his application at the entrance down-stairs where he stood whistling, with his hands in his pockets, when the servant returned, and bade him follow. Chupin obeyed; but the servant, who was on fire with curiosity, loitered by the way in hope of obtaining from this country youth some explanation of the surprise, not to say fright with which Madame de Sairmeuse had greeted the mention of his name. “I don’t say it to flatter you, my boy,” he remarked, “but your name produced a great effect on madame.” The prudent peasant carefully concealed the joy he felt on receiving this information. “How does she happen to know you?” continued the servant. “Are you both from the same place?” “I am her foster-brother.” The servant did not believe this reply for a moment, and as they had now reached the marchioness’s apartment, he opened the door and ushered Chupin into the room. The latter had prepared a little story beforehand, but he was so dazzled by the magnificence around him that for a moment he stood motionless with staring eyes and gaping mouth. His wonder was increased by a large mirror opposite the door, in which he could survey himself from head to foot, and by the beautiful flowers on the carpet, which he feared to crush with his heavy shoes. After a moment, Blanche decided to break the silence. “What do you want of me,” she asked.