"Your mother would tell you that I moved heaven and earth to find the
Duc de Sairmeuse. But he had left the Count d'Artois, and no one knew
where he had gone or what had become of him. Ten years passed before
I could make up my mind to inhabit the chateau--yes, ten years--during
which I had the furniture dusted each morning as if the master was to
return that evening.

"At last I ventured. I had heard Monsieur d'Escorval declare that the
duke had been killed in battle. I took up my abode here. And from day to
day, in proportion as the domain of Sairmeuse became more beautiful
and extensive beneath my care, I felt myself more and more its rightful
owner."

But this despairing pleading in behalf of a bad cause produced no
impression upon Marie-Anne's loyal heart.

"Restitution must be made," she repeated. M. Lacheneur wrung his hands.

"Implacable!" he exclaimed; "she is implacable. Unfortunate girl! does
she not understand that it is for her sake I wish to remain where I
am? I am old, and I am familiar with toil and poverty; idleness has
not removed the callosities from my hands. What do I require to keep me
alive until the day comes for me to take my place in the graveyard? A
crust of bread and an onion in the morning, a porringer of soup in the
evening, and for the night a bundle of straw. I could easily earn that.
But you, unhappy child! and your brother, what will become of you?"

"We must not discuss nor haggle with duty, my father. I think, however,
that you are needlessly alarmed. I believe the duke is too noble-hearted
ever to allow you to suffer want after the immense service you have