"To Chanlouineau, the fellow whom the peasants wished to kill yesterday
upon the square, because he was disrespectful to the duke. He is an
avaricious man; and if Marie-Anne does not bring him a good round sum as
a dowry, he will never marry her, no matter how beautiful she may be."

"Are you sure of what you say?"

"It is true. My eldest son heard from Chanlouineau and from Lacheneur
that the wedding would take place within a month."

And turning to his son:

"Is it not true, boy?"

"Yes," promptly replied the youth, who had heard nothing of the kind.

Martial was silent, ashamed, perhaps, of allowing himself to listen
to the gossip, but glad to have been informed of such an important
circumstance.

If Chupin was not telling a falsehood--and what reason could he have for
doing so--it became evident that M. Lacheneur's conduct concealed some
great mystery. Why, without some potent motive, should he have refused
to give his daughter to Maurice d'Escorval whom she loved, to bestow her
upon a peasant?

As he reached Sairmeuse, he was swearing that he would discover this
motive. A strange scene awaited him. In the broad open space extending
from the front of the chateau to the _parterre_ lay a huge pile of all