“Ah! then you were, indeed----” “I was where? what?” “At the convocation of these miserable peasants who, in their parricidal folly, have dared to dream of the overthrow of the best of princes!” Martial’s face betrayed successively profound surprise, and a more violent desire to laugh. “I think you must be jesting, Monsieur,” he replied. The young man’s words and manner reassured the duke a little, without entirely dissipating his suspicions. “Then, these vile rascals attacked you?” he exclaimed. “Not at all. I have been simply obliged to fight a duel.” “With whom? Name the scoundrel who has dared to insult you!” A faint flush tinged Martial’s cheek; but it was in his usual careless tone that he replied: “Upon my word, no; I shall not give his name. You would trouble him, perhaps; and I really owe the fellow a debt of gratitude. It happened upon the highway; he might have assassinated me without ceremony, but he offered me open combat. Besides, he was wounded far more severely than I.” All M. de Sairmeuse’s doubts had returned. “And why, instead of summoning a physician, are you attempting to dress this wound yourself?” “Because it is a mere trifle, and because I wish to keep it a secret.” The duke shook his head. “All this is scarcely plausible,” he remarked, “especially after the assurance of your complicity, which I have received.” “Ah!” said he; “and from whom? From your spy-in-chief, no doubt--that rascal Chupin. It surprises me to see that you can hesitate for a moment between the word of your son and the stories of such a wretch.” “Do not speak ill of Chupin, Marquis; he is a very useful man. Had it not been for him, we should have been taken unawares. It was through him that I learned of this vast conspiracy organized by Lacheneur----” “What! is it Lacheneur--” “Who is at the head of the movement? yes, Marquis. Ah! your usual discernment has failed you in this instance. What, you have been a constant visitor at this house, and you have suspected nothing? And you contemplate a diplomatic career! But this is not all. You know now for what purpose the money which you so lavishly bestowed upon them has been employed. They have used it to purchase guns, powder, and ammunition.” The duke had become satisfied of the injustice of his suspicions; but he was now endeavoring to irritate his son. It was a fruitless effort. Martial knew very well that he had been duped, but he did not think of resenting it. “If Lacheneur has been captured,” he thought; “if he should be condemned to death and if I should save him, Marie-Anne would refuse me nothing.” CHAPTER XXIV Having penetrated the mystery that enveloped his son’s frequent absence, the Baron d’Escorval had concealed his fears and his chagrin from his wife. It was the first time that he had ever had a secret from the faithful and courageous companion of his existence.