“Well, madame, what do you say to that?” asked Dumay, respectfully, alarmed at Madame Mignon’s silence.

“Modeste is not only inclined to love, but she loves some man,” answered the mother, obstinately.

“Madame, my life is at stake, and you must allow me—­not for my sake, but for my wife, my colonel, for all of us—­to probe this matter to the bottom, and find out whether it is the mother or the watch-dog who is deceived.”

“It is you who are deceived, Dumay.  Ah! if I could but see my daughter!” cried the poor woman.

“But whom is it possible for her to love?” asked the notary.  “I’ll answer for my Exupere.”

“It can’t be Gobenheim,” said Dumay, “for since the colonel’s departure he has not spent nine hours a week in this house.  Besides, he doesn’t even notice Modeste—­that five-franc piece of a man!  His uncle Gobenheim-Keller is all the time writing him, ’Get rich enough to marry a Keller.’  With that idea in his mind you may be sure he doesn’t know which sex Modeste belongs to.  No other men ever come here,—­for of course I don’t count Butscha, poor little fellow; I love him!  He is your Dumay, madame,” said the cashier to Madame Latournelle.  “Butscha knows very well that a mere glance at Modeste would cost him a Breton ducking.  Not a soul has any communication with this house.  Madame Latournelle who takes Modeste to church ever since your—­your misfortune, madame, has carefully watched her on the way and all through the service, and has seen nothing suspicious.  In short, if I must confess the truth, I have myself raked all the paths about the house every evening for the last month, and found no trace of footsteps in the morning.”

“Rakes are neither costly nor difficult to handle,” remarked the daughter of Germany.

“But the dogs?” cried Dumay.

“Lovers have philters even for dogs,” answered Madame Mignon.

“If you are right, my honor is lost!  I may as well blow my brains out,” exclaimed Dumay.

“Why so, Dumay?” said the blind woman.

“Ah, madame, I could never meet my colonel’s eye if he did not find his daughter—­now his only daughter—­as pure and virtuous as she was when he said to me on the vessel, ’Let no fear of the scaffold hinder you, Dumay, if the honor of my Modeste is at stake.’”

“Ah!  I recognize you both,” said Madame Mignon in a voice of strong emotion.

“I’ll wager my salvation that Modeste is as pure as she was in her cradle,” exclaimed Madame Dumay.

“Well, I shall make certain of it,” replied her husband, “if Madame la Comtesse will allow me to employ certain means; for old troopers understand strategy.”

“I will allow you to do anything that shall enlighten us, provided it does no injury to my last child.”

“What are you going to do, Jean?” asked Madame Dumay; “how can you discover a young girl’s secret if she means to hide it?”

“Obey me, all!” cried the lieutenant, “I shall need every one of you.”