“I never would have believed that Maurice could have been thus consoled,” said Mme. d’Escorval, delighted to see her son’s wonderful improvement in health and spirits.

But the baron made no response.  He regarded this almost miraculous recovery with distrust; he was assailed by a vague suspicion of the truth.

He questioned his son, but skilfully as he did it, he could draw nothing from him.

Maurice had decided to say nothing to his parents.  What good would it do to trouble them?  Besides, he feared remonstrance and opposition, and he was resolved to carry out his plans, even if he was compelled to leave the paternal roof.

In the second week of September the abbe declared that Maurice might resume his ordinary life, and that, as the weather was pleasant, it would be well for him to spend much of his time in the open air.

In his delight, Maurice embraced the worthy priest.

“What happiness!” he exclaimed; “then I can hunt once more!”

He really cared but little for the chase; but he deemed it expedient to pretend a great passion for it, since it would furnish him with an excuse for frequent and protracted absences.

Never had he felt more happy than on the morning when, with his gun upon his shoulder, he crossed the Oiselle and started for the abode of M. Lacheneur.  On reaching the little grove on the Reche, he paused for a moment at a place which commanded a view of the cottage.  While he stood there, he saw Jean Lacheneur and Chanlouineau leave the house, each laden with a pedler’s pack.

Maurice was therefore sure that M. Lacheneur and Marie-Anne were alone in the house.

He hastened to the cottage and entered without stopping to rap.

Marie-Anne and her father were kneeling on the hearth, upon which a huge fire was blazing.

On hearing the door open, they turned; and at the sight of Maurice, they both sprang up, blushing and confused.

“What brings you here?” they exclaimed in the same breath.

Under other circumstances, Maurice d’Escorval would have been dismayed by such a hostile greeting, but now he scarcely noticed it.

“You have no business to return here against my wishes, and after what I have said to you, Monsieur d’Escorval,” said Lacheneur, rudely.

Maurice smiled, he was perfectly cool, and not a detail of the scene before him had escaped his notice.  If he had felt any doubts before, they were now dissipated.  He saw upon the fire a large kettle of melted lead, and several bullet-moulds stood on the hearth, beside the andirons.

“If I venture to present myself at your house, Monsieur,” said Maurice, gravely and impressively, “it is because I know all.  I have discovered your revengeful project.  You are looking for men to aid you, are you not?  Very well! look me in the face, in the eyes, and tell me if I am not one of those whom a leader is glad to enroll among his followers.”