The clock in the church tower of Sairmeuse was just striking eight when Lacheneur and his little band of followers left La Reche. An hour later, Blanche de Courtornieu, after dining alone with Aunt Medea at the chateau, ordered the carriage to take her to Montaignac. Since her father’s duties had compelled him to reside in the town they only met on Sundays, when it either happened that Blanche went to Montaignac, or the marquis paid a visit to his estate. Now this was Thursday evening, and the servants were consequently somewhat surprised when they heard that their young mistress was going to “the town.” Her journey was prompted, however, by somewhat singular circumstances. Six days had elapsed since Martial’s last visit to Courtornieu, six days of suspense and anguish for the jealous Blanche. What Aunt Medea had to endure during this interval, only poor dependents in rich families can understand. For the first three days Blanche succeeded in preserving a semblance of self-control; but on the fourth she could endure the suspense no longer, and in spite of the breach of etiquette the step involved, she despatched a messenger to Sairmeuse to inquire if Martial were ill, or if he had been summoned away? The messenger learnt that the young marquis was in very good health, and that he spent the entire day, from early morn to dewy eve, shooting in the neighbouring preserves; going to bed every evening as soon as dinner was over. What a horrible insult this conduct implied for Blanche! However, it did not so much distress her as she felt certain that directly Martial heard of her enquiries he would hasten to her with a full apology. Her hope was vain; he did not come; nor even condescend to give a sign of life. “Ah! no doubt he is with that wretch,” said Blanche to Aunt Medea. “He is on his knees before that miserable Marie-Anne--his mistress.” For she had finished by believing--as is not unfrequently the case--the very calumnies which she herself had invented. Scarcely knowing how to act she at last decided to make her father her confidant; and accordingly wrote him a note to the effect that she was coming to Montaignac for his advice. In reality, she wished her father to compel Lacheneur to leave the country. This would be an easy matter for the marquis, since he was armed with discretionary judicial authority at an epoch when lukewarm devotion furnished an ample excuse for sending a man into exile. Fully decided upon executing this plan, Mademoiselle Courtornieu grew calmer on leaving the chateau; and her hopes overflowed in incoherent phrases, which poor Aunt Medea listened to with all her accustomed resignation. “At last,” exclaimed the revengeful Blanche, “I shall be rid of this shameless creature. We will see if he has the audacity to follow her. Ah, no; he cannot dare to do that!”