So, rising before nine o'clock, he went to awaken Martial.

On returning from dining with the Marquis de Courtornieu, the
evening before, the duke had gone through the chateau; but this hasty
examination by candle-light had not satisfied his curiosity. He wished
to see it in detail by daylight.

Followed by his son, he explored one after another of the rooms of the
princely abode; and, with every step, the recollections of his infancy
crowded upon him.

Lacheneur had respected everything. The duke found articles as old as
himself, religiously preserved, occupying the old familiar places from
which they had never been removed.

When his inspection was concluded:

"Decidedly, Marquis," he exclaimed, "this Lacheneur was not such a
rascal as I supposed. I am disposed to forgive him a great deal, on
account of the care which he has taken of our house in our absence."

Martial seemed engrossed in thought.

"I think, Monsieur," he said, at last, "that we should testify our
gratitude to this man by paying him a large indemnity."

This word excited the duke's anger.

"An indemnity!" he exclaimed. "Are you mad, Marquis? Think of the income