The old lady trembled with horror.  This precautionary measure, more than any thing else, gave her the full measure of her son’s situation.

“However,” M. Blangin went on, “there is nothing to fear.  M. de Boiscoran became quite calm again, and even cheerful, if I may say so.  When he got up this morning, after having slept all night like a dormouse, he sent for me, and asked me for paper, ink, and pen.  All the prisoners ask for that the second day.  I had orders to let him have it, and so I gave it to him.  When I carried him his breakfast, he handed me a letter for Miss Chandore.”

“What?” cried Dionysia, “you have a letter for me, and you don’t give it to me?”

“I do not have it now, madam.  I had to hand it, as is my duty, to M. Galpin, when he came accompanied by his clerk, Mechinet, to examine M. de Boiscoran.”

“And what did he say?”

“He opened the letter, read it, put it into his pocket, and said, ‘Well.’”

Tears of anger this time sprang from Dionysia’s eyes; and she cried,—­

“What a shame?  This man reads a letter written by Jacques to me!  That is infamous!”

And, without thinking of thanking Blangin, she drew off the old lady, and all the way home did not say a word.

“Ah, poor child, you did not succeed,” exclaimed the two old aunts, when they saw their niece come back.

But, when they had heard every thing, they said,—­

“Well, we’ll go and see him, this little magistrate, who but the day before yesterday was paying us abject court to obtain the hand of our cousin.  And we’ll tell him the truth; and, if we cannot make him give us back Jacques, we will at least trouble him in his triumph, and take down his pride.”

How could poor Dionysia help adopting the notions of the old ladies, when their project offered such immediate satisfaction to her indignation, and at the same time served her secret hopes?

“Oh, yes!  You are right, dear aunts,” she said.  “Quick, don’t lose any time; go at once!”

Unable to resist her entreaties, they started instantly, without listening to the timid objections made by the marchioness.  But the good ladies were sadly mistaken as to the state of mind of M. Galpin.  The ex-lover of one of their cousins was not bedded on roses by any means.  At the beginning of this extraordinary affair he had taken hold of it with eagerness, looking upon it as an admirable opportunity, long looked for, and likely to open wide the doors to his burning ambition.  Then having once begun, and the investigation being under way, he had been carried away by the current, without having time to reflect.  He had even felt a kind of unhealthy satisfaction at seeing the evidence increasing, until he felt justified and compelled to order his former friend to be sent to prison.  At that time he was fairly dazzled by the most magnificent expectations.  This preliminary inquiry, which in a few hours already had led to the discovery of a culprit the most unlikely of all men in the province, could not fail to establish his superior ability and matchless skill.