“True, she was obliged to witness a frightful scene at Gazeau Tower,” said M. de la Marche; “and then she must have been very much exhausted and frightened when her horse bolted from the field and galloped right through the forest.  Yet her pluck is so remarkable that . . .  What do you think, my dear Monsieur Bernard?  When you met her in the forest, did she seem very frightened?”

“In the forest?” I said.  “I did not meet her in the forest at all.”

“No; it was in Varenne that you met her, wasn’t it?”

The abbe hastened to intervene. . . .  “By-the-bye, Monsieur Bernard, can you spare me a minute to talk over a little matter connected with your property at . . .”

Hereupon he drew me out of the drawing-room, and said in a low voice: 

“There is no question of business; I only want to beg of you not to let a single soul, not even M. de la Marche, suspect that Mademoiselle de Mauprat was at Roche-Mauprat for the fraction of a second.”

“And why?” I asked.  “Was she not under my protection there?  Did she not leave it pure, thanks to me?  Must it not be well known to the neighbourhood that she passed two hours there?”

“At present no one knows,” he answered.  “At the very moment she left it, Roche-Mauprat fell before the attack of the police, and not one of its inmates will return from the grave or from exile to proclaim the fact.  When you know the world better, you will understand how important it is for the reputation of a young lady that none should have reason to suppose that even a shadow of danger has fallen upon her honour.  Meanwhile, I implore you, in the name of her father, in the name of the affection for her which you expressed this morning in so noble and touching a manner . . .”

“You are very clever, Monsieur l’Abbe,” I said, interrupting him.  “All your words have a hidden meaning which I can grasp perfectly well, clown as I am.  Tell my cousin that she may set her mind at ease.  I have nothing to say against her virtue, that is very certain; and I trust I am not capable of spoiling the marriage she desires.  Tell her that I claim but one thing of her, the fulfilment of that promise of friendship which she made me at Roche-Mauprat.”

“In your eyes, then, that promise has a peculiar solemnity?” said the abbe.  “If so, what grounds for distrusting it have you?”

I looked at him fixedly, and as he appeared very much agitated, I took a pleasure in keeping him on the rack, hoping that he would repeat my words to Edmee.

“None,” I answered.  “Only I observe that you are afraid that M. de la Marche may break off the marriage, if he happens to hear of the adventure at Roche-Mauprat.  If the gentleman is capable of suspecting Edmee, and of grossly insulting her on the eve of his wedding, it seems to me that there is one very simple means of mending matters.”

“What would you suggest?”

“Why, to challenge him and kill him.”