“Cunning--and how? Since I have been watching the marquis, he has not once passed outside the fortifications. On the other hand, the postman at Sairmeuse, who has been adroitly questioned by my wife, declares that he has not taken a single letter to the Borderie.” Had it not been for the hope of a safe and pleasant retreat at Courtornieu, Chupin would have abandoned his task; and, in spite of the tempting rewards that were promised him, he had relaxed his surveillance. If he still came to the rendezvous, it was only because he had fallen into the habit of claiming some money for his expenses each time. And when Mme. Blanche demanded an account of everything that Martial had done, he told her anything that came into his head. Mme. Blanche soon discovered this. One day, early in September, she interrupted him as he began the same old story, and, looking him steadfastly in the eye, she said: “Either you are betraying me, or you are a fool. Yesterday Martial and Marie-Anne spent a quarter of an hour together at the Croix d’Arcy.” CHAPTER XLIV The old physician at Vigano, who had come to Marie-Anne’s aid, was an honorable man. His intellect was of a superior order, and his heart was equal to his intelligence. He knew life; he had loved and suffered, and he possessed two sublime virtues--forbearance and charity. It was easy for such a man to read Marie-Anne’s character; and while he was at the Borderie he endeavored in every possible way to reassure her, and to restore the self-respect of the unfortunate girl who had confided in him. Had he succeeded? He certainly hoped so. But when he departed and Marie-Anne was again left in solitude, she could not overcome the feeling of despondency that stole over her. Many, in her situation, would have regained their serenity of mind, and even rejoiced. Had she not succeeded in concealing her fault? Who suspected it, except, perhaps, the abbe. Hence, Marie-Anne had nothing to fear, and everything to hope. But this conviction did not appease her sorrow. Hers was one of those pure and proud natures that are more sensitive to the whisperings of conscience than to the clamors of the world. She had been accused of having three lovers--Chanlouineau, Martial, and Maurice. The calumny had not moved her. What tortured her was what these people did not know--the truth. Nor was this all. The sublime instinct of maternity had been awakened within her. When she saw the physician depart, bearing her child, she felt as if soul and body were being rent asunder. When could she hope to see again this little son who was doubly dear to her by reason of the very sorrow and anguish he had cost her? The tears gushed to her eyes when she thought that his first smile would not be for her. Ah! had it not been for her promise to Maurice, she would unhesitatingly have braved public opinion, and kept her precious child.