“To appear upon the stage is not a crime.”

“No; but it is a crime to deceive one’s father and to affect virtues which one does not possess!  Have I ever refused you money?  No.  Notwithstanding that, you have contracted debts everywhere, and you owe at least twenty thousand francs.”

Jean hung his head; he was evidently angry, but he feared his father.

“Twenty thousand francs!” repeated M. Lacheneur.  “I had them a fortnight ago; now I have nothing.  I can hope to obtain this sum only through the generosity of the Duc de Sairmeuse and his son.”  These words from Lacheneur’s lips astonished the baron.

Lacheneur perceived it, and it was with every appearance of sincerity and good faith that he resumed: 

“Does what I say surprise you?  I understand why.  My anger at first made me give utterance to all sorts of absurd threats.  But I am calm now, and I realize my injustice.  What could I expect the duke to do?  To make me a present of Sairmeuse?  He was a trifle brusque, I confess, but that is his way; at heart he is the best of men.”

“Have you seen him again?”

“No; but I have seen his son.  I have even been with him to the chateau to designate the articles which I desire to keep.  Oh! he refused me nothing.  Everything was placed at my disposal—­everything.  I selected what I wished—­furniture, clothing, linen.  It is all to be brought here; and I shall be quite a grand seigneur.”

“Why not seek another house?  This——­”

“This pleases me, Monsieur.  Its situation suits me perfectly.”

In fact, why should not the Sairmeuse have regretted their odious conduct?  Was it impossible that Lacheneur, in spite of his indignation, should conclude to accept honorable separation?  Such were M. d’Escorval’s reflections.

“To say that the marquis has been kind is saying too little,” continued Lacheneur.  “He has shown us the most delicate attentions.  For example, having noticed how much Marie-Anne regrets the loss of her flowers, he has declared that he is going to send her plants to stock our small garden, and that they shall be renewed every month.”

Like all passionate men, M. Lacheneur overdid his part.  This last remark was too much; it awakened a sinister suspicion in M. d’Escorval’s mind.

“Good God!” he thought, “does this wretched man meditate some crime?”

He glanced at Chanlouineau, and his anxiety increased.  On hearing the names of the marquis and of Marie-Anne, the robust farmer had turned livid.  “It is decided,” said Lacheneur, with an air of the lost satisfaction, “that they will give me the ten thousand francs bequeathed to me by Mademoiselle Armande.  Moreover, I am to fix upon such a sum as I consider a just recompense for my services.  And that is not all; they have offered me the position of manager at Sairmeuse; and I was to be allowed to occupy the gamekeeper’s cottage, where I lived so long.  But on reflection I refused this offer.  After having enjoyed for so long a time a fortune which did not belong to me, I am anxious to amass a fortune of my own.”