“Wait a moment--we must be prepared for any emergency. Perhaps in spite of our precautions you may meet him here. M. de Sairmeuse is arrogance itself; and he hates you. You detest him, and you are very hasty. Swear to me that if he provokes you, you will ignore his insults.”
Maurice was hesitating when an imploring look from Marie-Anne decided him. “I swear it!” he said gravely.
“As far as Chanlouineau is concerned it would be better not to let him know of our agreement; but I will see to that point myself.” Lacheneur paused once more and reflected for a moment whether he had left anything forgotten. “All that remains, Maurice,” he soon resumed, “is to give you a last and very important piece of advice. Do you know my son?”
“Certainly; we were formerly the best of friends when we met during the holidays.”
“Very well. When you know my secret--for I shall confide it to you without reserve--beware of Jean.”
“Beware of Jean. I repeat it.” And Lacheneur’s face flushed as he added: “Ah! it is a painful avowal for a father; but I have no confidence in my own son. He knows no more of my plans than I told him on the day of his arrival. I deceive him, because I fear he might betray us. Perhaps it would be wise to send him away; but in that case, what would people say? Most assuredly they would say that I wanted to save my own blood, while I was ready to risk the lives of others. Still I may be mistaken; I may misjudge him.” He sighed, and again added: “Beware!”
It will be understood from the foregoing that it was really Maurice d’Escorval whom the Marquis de Sairmeuse perceived leaving Lacheneur’s cottage on the night he played the spy. Martial was not positively certain of the fugitive’s identity, but the very idea made his heart swell with anger. “What part am I playing here, then?” he exclaimed indignantly.
Passion had hitherto so completely blinded him that even if no pains had been taken to deceive him, he would probably have remained in blissful ignorance of the true condition of affairs. He fully believed in the sincerity of Lacheneur’s formal courtesy and politeness and of Jean’s studied respect; while Chanlouineau’s almost servile obsequiousness did not surprise him in the least. And since Marie-Anne welcomed him cordially he had concluded that his suit was favourably progressing. Having himself forgotten the incidents which marked the return of his family to Sairmeuse, he concluded that every one else had ceased to remember them. Moreover, he was of opinion that he had acted with great generosity, and that he was fully entitled to the gratitude of the Lacheneurs; for Marie-Anne’s father had received the legacy bequeathed him by Mademoiselle Armande, with an indemnity for his past services; and in addition he had selected whatever furniture he pleased among the appointments of the chateau. In goods and coin he had been presented with quite sixty thousand francs; and the hard fisted old duke, enraged at such prodigality, although it did not cost him a penny, had discontentedly growled, “He must be hard to please indeed if he is not satisfied with what we’ve done for him.”