A glance from Marie-Anne commanded silence. He obeyed, and walked a
few steps behind them, with his head bowed upon his breast, terribly
anxious, and seeking vainly to explain what had passed.

His attitude betrayed such intense sorrow that his mother divined it as
soon as she caught sight of him.

All the anguish which this courageous woman had hidden for a month,
found utterance in a single cry.

"Ah! here is misfortune!" said she, "we shall not escape it."

It was, indeed, misfortune. One could not doubt it when one saw M.
Lacheneur enter the drawing-room.

He advanced with the heavy, uncertain step of a drunken man, his eye
void of expression, his features distorted, his lips pale and trembling.

"What has happened?" asked the baron, eagerly.

But the other did not seem to hear him.

"Ah! I warned her," he murmured, continuing a monologue which had begun
before he entered the room. "I told my daughter so."

Mme. d'Escorval, after kissing Marie-Anne, drew the girl toward her.

"What has happened? For God's sake, tell me what has happened!" she
exclaimed.