There was such an evident sincerity in her accent that Chupin was reassured. He leaned toward her, and said, in a low voice: “Now tell me your business.” His small gray eyes glittered with a demoniac light; his thin lips were tightly drawn over his sharp teeth; he was evidently expecting some proposition to murder, and he was ready. His attitude showed this so plainly that Blanche shuddered. “Really, what I ask of you is almost nothing,” she replied. “I only wish you to watch the Marquis de Sairmeuse.” “Your husband?” “Yes; my husband. I wish to know what he does, where he goes, and what persons he sees. I wish to know how each moment of his time is spent.” “What! seriously, frankly, is this all that you desire of me?” Chupin asked. “For the present, yes. My plans are not yet decided. It depends upon circumstances what action I shall take.” “You can rely upon me,” he responded; “but I must have a little time.” “Yes, I understand. To-day is Saturday; will you be ready to report on Thursday?” “In five days? Yes, probably.” “In that case, meet me here on Thursday, at this same hour.” A cry from Aunt Medea interrupted them. “Someone is coming!” Mme. Blanche exclaimed. “Quick! we must not be seen together. Conceal yourself.” With a bound the old poacher disappeared in the forest. A servant had approached Aunt Medea, and was speaking to her with great animation. Blanche hastened toward them. “Ah! Mademoiselle,” exclaimed the servant, “we have been seeking you everywhere for three hours. Your father, monsieur le marquis--_mon Dieu_! what a misfortune! A physician has been summoned.” “Is my father dead?” “No, Mademoiselle, no; but--how can I tell you? When the marquis went out this morning his actions were very strange, and--and--when he returned----” As he spoke the servant tapped his forehead with the end of his forefinger. “You understand me, Mademoiselle--when he returned, reason had fled!” Without waiting for her terrified aunt, Blanche darted in the direction of the chateau. “How is the marquis?” she inquired of the first servant whom she met. “He is in his room on the bed; he is more quiet now.” She had already reached his room. He was seated upon the bed, and two servants were watching his every movement. His face was livid, and a white foam had gathered upon his lips. Still, he recognized his daughter. “Here you are,” said he. “I was waiting for you.” She remained upon the threshold, quite overcome, although she was neither tender-hearted nor impressionable. “My father!” she faltered. “Good heavens! what has happened?” He uttered a discordant laugh.