“I will relinquish Sairmeuse,” he faltered, “come what may——”
He paused suddenly; a visitor was entering the room.
It was a young man about twenty years of age, of distinguished appearance, but with a rather melancholy and gentle manner.
His eyes when he entered the apartment encountered those of Marie-Anne; he blushed slightly, and the girl half turned away, crimsoning to the roots of her hair.
“Monsieur,” said the young man, “my father sends me to inform you that the Duc de Sairmeuse and his son have just arrived. They have asked the hospitality of our cure.”
M. Lacheneur rose, unable to conceal his frightful agitation.
“You will thank the Baron d’Escorval for his attention, my dear Maurice,” he responded. “I shall have the honor of seeing him to-day, after a very momentous step which we are about to take, my daughter and I.”
Young d’Escorval had seen, at the first glance, that his presence was inopportune, so he remained only a few moments.
But as he was taking leave, Marie-Anne found time to say, in a low voice:
“I think I know your heart, Maurice; this evening I shall know it certainly.”