Lacheneur leaned over the balustrade, and, forming a trumpet out of his two hands, he called: “Oh! Chanlouineau!” The robust young farmer raised his head. “Come up,” shouted Lacheneur; “the baron wishes to speak with you.” Chanlouineau responded by a gesture of assent. They saw him enter the gate, cross the garden, and at last appear at the door of the drawing-room. His features were distorted with fury, his disordered clothing gave evidence of a serious conflict. His cravat was gone, and his torn shirt-collar revealed his muscular throat. “Where is this fighting?” demanded Lacheneur eagerly; “and with whom?” Chanlouineau gave a nervous laugh which resembled a roar of rage. “They are not fighting,” he replied; “they are amusing themselves. This firing which you hear is in honor of Monsieur le Duc de Sairmeuse.” “Impossible!” “I know it very well; and yet, what I have told you is the truth. It is the work of that miserable wretch and thief, Chupin. Ah, _canaille_! If I ever find him within reach of my arm he will never steal again.” M. Lacheneur was confounded. “Tell us what has happened,” he said, excitedly. “Oh, it is as clear as daylight. When the duke arrived at Sairmeuse, Chupin, the old scoundrel, with his two rascally boys, and that old hag, his wife, ran after the carriage like beggars after a diligence, crying, ‘Vive Monsieur le Duc!’ The duke was enchanted, for he doubtless expected a volley of stones, and he placed a six-franc piece in the hand of each of the wretches. This money gave Chupin an appetite for more, so he took it into his head to give this old noble a reception like that which was given to the Emperor. Having learned through Bibiaine, whose tongue is as long as a viper’s, all that has passed at the presbytery, between you, Monsieur Lacheneur, and the duke, he came and proclaimed it in the market-place. When they heard it, all who had purchased national lands were frightened. Chupin had counted on this, and soon he began telling the poor fools that they must burn powder under the duke’s nose if they wished him to confirm their titles to their property.” “And did they believe him?” “Implicitly. It did not take them long to make their preparations. They went to the town hall and took the firemen’s rifles, and the guns used for firing a salute on fete days; the mayor gave them the powder, and you heard---- “When I left Sairmeuse there were more than two hundred idiots before the presbytery, shouting: “_Vive Monseigneur! Vive le Duc de Sairmeuse_!” It was as d’Escorval had thought. “The same pitiful farce that was played in Paris, only on a smaller scale,” he murmured. “Avarice and human cowardice are the same the world over!” Meanwhile, Chanlouineau was going on with his recital.