Seeing Mme. Blanche he tried to hide himself in the forest, but she prevented it by calling: 

“Father Chupin!”

He hesitated for a moment, then he paused, dropped his gun, and waited.

Aunt Medea was pale with fright.

“Blessed Jesus!” she murmured, pressing her niece’s arm; “why do you call that terrible man?”

“I wish to speak with him.”

“What, Blanche, do you dare——­”

“I must!”

“No, I cannot allow it. I must not——­”

“There, that is enough,” said Blanche, with one of those imperious glances that deprive a dependent of all strength and courage; “quite enough.”

Then, in gentler tones: 

“I must talk with this man,” she added.

“You, Aunt Medea, will remain at a little distance.  Keep a close watch on every side, and if you see anyone approaching, call me, whoever it may be.”

Aunt Medea, submissive as she was ever wont to be, obeyed; and Mme. Blanche advanced toward the old poacher, who stood as motionless as the trunks of the giant trees around him.

“Well, my good Father Chupin, what sort of sport have you had to-day?” she began, when she was a few steps from him.

“What do you want with me?” growled Chupin; “for you do want something, or you would not trouble yourself about such as I.”

It required all Blanche’s determination to repress a gesture of fright and of disgust; but, in a resolute tone, she replied: 

“Yes, it is true that I have a favor to ask you.”

“Ah, ha!  I supposed so.”

“A mere trifle which will cost you no trouble and for which you shall be well paid.”

She said this so carelessly that one would really have supposed the service was unimportant; but cleverly as she played her part, Chupin was not deceived.

“No one asks trifling services of a man like me,” he said coarsely.

“Since I have served the good cause, at the peril of my life, people seem to suppose that they have a right to come to me with their money in their hands, when they desire any dirty work done.  It is true that I was well paid for that other job; but I would like to melt all the gold and pour it down the throats of those who gave it to me.

“Ah!  I know what it costs the humble to listen to the words of the great!  Go your way; and if you have any wickedness in your head, do it yourself!”

He shouldered his gun and was moving away, when Mme. Blanche said, coldly: 

“It was because I knew your wrongs that I stopped you; I thought you would be glad to serve me, because I hate the Sairmeuse.”

These words excited the interest of the old poacher, and he paused.

“I know very well that you hate the Sairmeuse now—­but——­”

“But what!”

“In less than a month you will be reconciled.  And you will pay the expenses of the war and of the reconciliation?  That old wretch, Chupin——­”