The priest sadly rejoined his companions. “We must wait!” said he. And yet, intentionally or not, the servants were deceiving these poor people; for, just then, the duke was in no wise troubling himself about his despatches. In point of fact, he happened to be engaged in a violent altercation with the Marquis de Courtornieu. Each of these noble personages was anxious to play the leading part--that which would meet with the highest reward at the hands of the supreme authorities at Paris. This quarrel had begun on some petty point, but soon they both lost their tempers and stinging words, bitter allusions, and even threats were rapidly exchanged. The marquis declared it necessary to inflict the most frightful--he said the most _salutary_ punishment upon the offenders; while the duke, on the contrary, was inclined to be indulgent. The marquis opined that since Lacheneur, the prime mover, and his son, had both eluded pursuit, it was absolutely requisite that Marie-Anne should be arrested. M. de Sairmeuse, however, would not listen to the suggestion. To his mind it would be most impolitic to arrest this young girl. Such a course would render the authorities odious, and would exasperate all the rebels who were still at large. “These men must be put down with a strong hand!” urged M. de Courtornieu. “I don’t wish to exasperate the populace,” replied the duke. “Bah! what does public sentiment matter?” “It matters a great deal when you cannot depend upon your soldiers. Do you know what happened last night? There was enough powder burned to win a battle, and yet there were only fifteen peasants wounded. Our men fired in the air. You forget that the Montaignac corps is for the most part composed of men who formerly fought under Bonaparte, and who are burning to turn their weapons against us.” Thus did the dispute continue, ostensibly for motives of public policy, though, in reality, both the duke and the marquis had a secret reason for their obstinacy. Blanche de Courtornieu had reached Montaignac that morning and had confided her anxiety and her sufferings to her father, with the result that she had made him swear to profit of this opportunity to rid her of Marie-Anne. On his side, the duke was convinced that Marie-Anne was his son’s mistress, and wished, at any cost, to prevent her appearance at the tribunal. Finding that words had no influence whatever on his coadjutor, his grace at last finished the dispute by a skillful stratagem. “As we are of different opinions we can’t possibly work together,” quoth he; “we are one too many.” And speaking in this fashion he glanced so meaningly at a pair of pistols that the noble marquis felt a disagreeable chilliness creep up his spine. He had never been noted for bravery, and did not in the least relish the idea of having a bullet lodged in his brains. Accordingly he waived his proposal, and eventually agreed to go to the citadel with the duke to inspect the prisoners.