“Yes.”

“Do you see those others that are wilting?”

“Yes.”

“Well, every one of them has been killed by the peasants you think you have won over by your benefits.”

And Blondet related the events of the morning.

The general was so pale that Blondet was frightened.

“Come, curse, swear, be furious! your self-control may hurt you more than anger!”

“I’ll go and smoke,” said the general, turning toward the kiosk.

During breakfast Michaud came in; he had found no one.  Sibilet, whom the count had sent for, came also.

“Monsieur Sibilet, and you, Monsieur Michaud, are to make it known, cautiously, that I will pay a thousand francs to whoever will arrest in the act the person or persons who are killing my trees; they must also discover the instrument with which the work is done, and where it was bought.  I have settled upon a plan.”

“Those people never betray one another,” said Sibilet, “if the crime done is for their benefit and premeditated.  There is no denying that this diabolical business has been planned, carefully planned and contrived.”

“Yes, but a thousand francs means a couple of acres of land.”

“We can try,” said Sibilet; “fifteen hundred francs might buy you a traitor, especially if you promise secrecy.”

“Very good; but let us act as if we suspected nothing, I especially; if not, we shall be the victims of some collusion; one has to be as wary with these brigands as with the enemy in war.”

“But the enemy is here,” said Blondet.

Sibilet threw him the furtive glance of a man who understood the meaning of the words, and then he withdrew.

“I don’t like your Sibilet,” said Blondet, when he had seen the steward leave the house.  “That man is playing false.”

“Up to this time he has done nothing I could complain of,” said the general.

Blondet went off to write letters.  He had lost the careless gayety of his first arrival, and was now uneasy and preoccupied; but he had no vague presentiments like those of Madame Michaud; he was, rather, in full expectation of certain foreseen misfortunes.  He said to himself, “This affair will come to some bad end; and if the general does not take decisive action and will not abandon a battle-field where he is overwhelmed by numbers there must be a catastrophe; and who knows who will come out safe and sound,—­perhaps neither he nor his wife.  Good God! that adorable little creature! so devoted, so perfect! how can he expose her thus!  He thinks he loves her!  Well, I’ll share their danger, and if I can’t save them I’ll suffer with them.”

CHAPTER VIII

RURAL VIRTUE

That night Marie Tonsard was stationed on the road to Soulanges, sitting on the rail of a culvert waiting for Bonnebault, who had spent the day, as usual, at the Cafe de la Paix.  She heard him coming at some distance, and his step told her that he was drunk, and she knew also that he had lost money, for he always sang if he won.