If Chupin was not telling a falsehood—and what reason could he have for doing so—it became evident that M. Lacheneur’s conduct concealed some great mystery. Why, without some potent motive, should he have refused to give his daughter to Maurice d’Escorval whom she loved, to bestow her upon a peasant?
As he reached Sairmeuse, he was swearing that he would discover this motive. A strange scene awaited him. In the broad open space extending from the front of the chateau to the parterre lay a huge pile of all kinds of clothing, linen, plate, and furniture. One might have supposed that the occupants of the chateau were moving. A half dozen men were running to and fro, and standing in the centre of the rubbish was the Duc de Sairmeuse, giving orders.
Martial did not understand the whole meaning of the scene at first. He went to his father, and after saluting him respectfully, inquired:
“What is all this?”
M. de Sairmeuse laughed heartily.
“What! can you not guess?” he replied. “It is very simple, however. When the lawful master, on his return, sleeps beneath the bed-coverings of the usurper, it is delightful, the first night, not so pleasant on the second. Everything here reminds me too forcibly of Monsieur Lacheneur. It seems to me that I am in his house; and the thought is unendurable. So I have had them collect everything belonging to him and to his daughter—everything, in fact, which did not belong to the chateau in former years. The servants will put it all into a cart and carry it to him.”
The young marquis gave fervent thanks to Heaven that he had arrived before it was too late. Had his father’s project been executed, he would have been obliged to bid farewell to all his hopes.
“You surely will not do this, Monsieur le Duc?” said he, earnestly.
“And why, pray? Who will prevent me from doing it?”
“No one, most assuredly. But you will decide, on reflection, that a man who has not conducted himself too badly has a right to some consideration.”