That evening Jean Berlier dined at La Chênaie. They expected Isabelle Orlandi who was quite at home there. Never had she flirted more audaciously or shown more disregard for the proprieties than she did now on the eve of her wedding. At this time, M. Landeau, profiting by a rise in the markets and discovering tactfully the modern method of winning hearts, made love from afar by piling up a great deal of money, the use of which his fiancée was enjoying in anticipation. His letters contained short but significant allusions to his financial success, whose potency as a love-charm he cleverly understood. That evening Isabelle disappeared with the young soldier to a sofa hidden by a thick group of palms and ferns. To give her parties an air of gaiety and brightness, Madame Dulaurens tolerated these intimacies when they did not go too far. Jean needed a feminine accomplice to realise his plan, which was simplicity itself. His idea was to get Alice to go at a certain time to a little oakwood, where she would suddenly meet Marcel Guibert coming along the Chaloux road. But he could not himself ask the girl to go for a walk in the lovely freshness of the woods. He needed an ally whose discretion could be relied upon. “Here is one perhaps,” he thought, looking at Isabelle. “But is she to be trusted?” As he had very little choice, he decided to risk it. “What do you think of the dragoon?” he asked his fair companion, indicating the Viscount de Marthenay, whom they could see through the greenery, showing off his paces before Madame Dulaurens, while the unhappy Alice, bending over an illustrated book, leaves of which she was forgetting to turn, tried not to see him. Isabelle laughed. “The dragoon? He is Alice’s de Marthenay. Every girl has her own.” “Will you help me to score against him?” “I certainly will. It will remind us of the Battle of Flowers.” “Well, come here to-morrow--about four o’clock. I shall be here.” “If you will be here, it goes without saying that I shall come,” said Isabelle. “You must tell your fair young friend, whose cheeks have been so pale: ‘You must go out and get some fresh country air. You have been shut up too long.’” “I will tell my fair friend that she must go and get the fresh air, etc.,” repeated Isabelle. “And we shall take her to the oakwood.” “To the oakwood we shall take her.” “At a sign from me you will leave her.” “Is this a song?” “We shall leave her alone. And if you should see or understand anything, you swear you will keep it secret?” “But I don’t understand!” “That is just what I want.” “Do tell me, at least, what shall I see?” “Daughter of Eve! Can you keep a secret?” “If you tell it to me, yes.” “It is a secret which is not mine. If you tell it you will betray me,” said Jean. With her lovely dark eyes full of passion, she looked intently at him.