"Confess, confess!... You're lying, aren't you?... It's because of your opinions, that's it, because of your opinions!... You want a proof ... an alibi ... and so ..." And, addressing Le Corbier: "Leave me alone with him, monsieur le ministre.... He will confess to me that he is lying, that he is talking like that because he has to ... or because he is mad ... who knows? Yes, because he is mad!... How could she love you? Why should she? Since when? She, who is your wife's friend.... Get out, I know my daughter!... But answer, you villain!... Morestal, my friend, make him answer ... make him give his proofs.... And you, Suzanne, why don't you spit in his face?" He turned upon Suzanne; and Marthe, rousing herself from her torpor, went up to the girl, as he did. Suzanne stood tottering on her feet, with averted gaze. "Well, what's this?" roared her father. "Won't you answer either? Haven't you a word to answer to that liar?" She tried to speak, stammered a few confused syllables and was silent. Philippe met her eyes, the eyes of a hunted fawn, a pair of poor eyes pleading for help. "You admit it! You admit it!" shouted Jorance. And he made a sudden rush at her; and Philippe, as in a nightmare, saw Suzanne flung back, shaken by her father, struck by Marthe, who, she too, in an abrupt fit of fury, demanded the useless confession. It was a horrible and violent scene. Le Corbier and M. de Trebons interfered, while Morestal, shaking his fist at Philippe, cried: "I curse you! You're a criminal! Let her be, Jorance. She couldn't help it, poor thing. He is the one to blame.... Yes, you, you, my son!... And I curse you.... I turn you out...." The old man pressed his hand to his heart, stammered a few words more, begging Jorance's pardon and promising to look after his daughter, then turned on his heels and fell against the table, fainting.... PART III CHAPTER I THE ARMED VIGIL "Ma'am!" "What is it? What's the matter?" asked Mme. Morestal, waking with a start. "It's I, Catherine." "Well?" "They have sent from the town-hall, ma'am.... They are asking for the master.... They want instructions.... Victor says the troops are being mobilized...." The day before, after his fainting-fit at the Butte-aux-Loups, old Morestal was carried back to the Old Mill on a litter by the soldiers of the detachment. Marthe, who came with him, flung a few words of explanation to her mother-in-law and, without paying attention to the good woman's lamentations, without even speaking to her of Philippe and of what could have become of him, ran to her room and locked herself in. Dr. Borel was hurriedly sent for. He examined the patient, diagnosed serious trouble in the region of the heart and refused to give an opinion.