“It will be shouted from the house-tops that Chanlouineau, in the presence of the tribunal, declared you, Marquis, his leader and his accomplice. You will be obliged to submit to the scrutiny of physicians, who, seeing a freshly healed wound, will require you to tell where you received it, and why you concealed it.
“Of what shall I not be accused? They will say that I expedited matters in order to silence the voice that had been raised against my son. Perhaps they will even say that I secretly favored the insurrection; I shall be vilified in the journals.
“And who has thus ruined the fortunes of our house, that promised so brilliantly? You, you alone, Marquis.
“You believe in nothing, you doubt everything—you are cold, sceptical, disdainful, blase. But a pretty woman makes her appearance on the scene. You go wild like a school-boy and are ready to commit any act of folly. It is you who I am addressing, Marquis. Do you hear me? Speak! what have you to say?”
Martial had listened to this tirade with unconcealed scorn, and without even attempting to interrupt it.
Now he responded, slowly:
“I think, sir, if Mademoiselle Lacheneur had any doubts of the value of the document she possesses, she has them no longer.”
This response fell upon the duke’s wrath like a bucket of ice-water. He instantly comprehended his folly; and frightened by his own words, he stood stupefied with astonishment.
Without deigning to add another word, the marquis turned to Marie-Anne.
“Will you be so kind as to explain what is required of my father in exchange for this letter?”