Martial had supposed himself the only visitor at the cottage on the
Reche; and when he discovered that such was not the case, he became
furious.

"Am I, then, the dupe of a shameless girl?" he thought.

He was so incensed, that for more than a week he did not go to
Lacheneur's house.

His father concluded that his ill-humor and gloom was caused by
some misunderstanding with Marie-Anne; and he took advantage of this
opportunity to gain his son's consent to an alliance with Blanche de
Courtornieu.

A victim to the most cruel doubts and fears, Martial, goaded to the last
extremity, exclaimed:

"Very well! I will marry Mademoiselle Blanche."

The duke did not allow such a good resolution to grow cold.

In less than forty-eight hours the engagement was made public; the
marriage contract was drawn up, and it was announced that the wedding
would take place early in the spring.

A grand banquet was given at Sairmeuse in honor of the betrothal--a
banquet all the more brilliant since there were other victories to be
celebrated.