“That’s right, old fellow; it is not under Bonaparte that the present possessor of Gondreville can be ousted.”

Just then Malin, happening to look up, saw the muzzle of a gun through the foliage of a tall linden.

“I was not mistaken, I thought I heard the click of a trigger,” he said to Grevin, after getting behind the trunk of a large tree, where the notary, uneasy at his friend’s sudden movement, followed him.

“It is Michu,” said Grevin; “I see his red beard.”

“Don’t let us seem afraid,” said Malin, who walked slowly away, saying at intervals:  “Why is that man so bitter against the owners of this property?  It was not you he was covering.  If he overheard us he had better ask the prayers of the congregation!  Who the devil would have thought of looking up into the trees!”

“There’s always something to learn,” said the notary.  “But he was a good distance off, and we spoke low.”

“I shall tell Corentin about it,” replied Malin.

CHAPTER III

THE MASK THROWN OFF

A few moments later Michu returned home, his face pale, his features contracted.

“What is the matter?” said his wife, frightened.

“Nothing,” he replied, seeing Violette whose presence silenced him.

Michu took a chair and sat down quietly before the fire, into which he threw a letter which he drew from a tin tube such as are given to soldiers to hold their papers.  This act, which enabled Marthe to draw a long breath like one relieved of a great burden, greatly puzzled Violette.  The bailiff laid his gun on the mantel-shelf with admirable composure.  Marianne the servant, and Marthe’s mother were spinning by the light of a lamp.

“Come, Francois,” said the father, presently, “it is time to go to bed.”

He lifted the boy roughly by the middle of his body and carried him off.

“Run down to the cellar,” he whispered, when they reached the stairs.  “Empty one third out of two bottles of the Macon wine, and fill them up with the Cognac brandy which is on the shelf.  Then mix a bottle of white wine with one half brandy.  Do it neatly, and put the three bottles on the empty cask which stands by the cellar door.  When you hear me open the window in the kitchen come out of the cellar, run to the stable, saddle my horse, mount it, and go and wait for me at Poteaudes-Gueux—­That little scamp hates to go to bed,” said Michu, returning; “he likes to do as grown people do, see all, hear all, and know all.  You spoil my people, pere Violette.”

“Goodness!” cried Violette, “what has loosened your tongue?  I never heard you say as much before.”

“Do you suppose I let myself be spied upon without taking notice of it?  You are on the wrong side, pere Violette.  If, instead of serving those who hate me, you were on my side I could do better for you than renew that lease of yours.”