The old poacher raised his finger to his lips, as if recommending silence, and as soon as the valet had left the room, he exclaimed: “It is useless to send for the marquis!”
“And why, you fool?”
“Because, because—excuse me—I——”
“Zounds! will you speak, or not?”
Chupin regretted that he had gone so far. “Because the marquis——”
“Well?”
“He is engaged in it.”
The duke overturned the dinner-table with a terrible blow of his clenched fist. “You lie, you wretch!” he thundered with terrible oaths.
His anger was so threatening, that the old poacher sprang to the door and turned the knob, ready for flight. “May I lose my head if I do not speak the truth,” he insisted. “Ah! Lacheneur’s daughter is a regular sorceress. All the gallants of the neighbourhood are in the ranks; Chanlouineau, young D’ Escorval, your son——”
M. de Sairmeuse was pouring forth a torrent of curses upon Marie-Anne when his valet re-entered the room. He suddenly checked himself, put on his uniform, and ordering Chupin to follow him, he hastened from the house. He was still hoping that Chupin had exaggerated the danger; but when he reached the Place d’Armes commanding an extensive view of the surrounding country, whatever illusions he may have retained immediately vanished. Signal lights gleamed on every side, and Montaignac seemed surrounded by a circle of flame.