But in this she was mistaken. Martial was greatly agitated, but he did not utter a word that was not connected with the baron.
It was only when the conference was ended, and he had consented to all the conditions, that he said, sadly:
“We are friends, are we not?”
In an almost inaudible voice she answered:
“Yes.”
And that was all. He remounted his horse which had been held by a servant, and departed in the direction of Montaignac.
Breathless, with cheeks on fire, Marie-Anne watched him as he disappeared; and then her inmost heart was revealed as by a lightning flash.
“Mon Dieu! wretch that I am!” she exclaimed. “Do I not love? is it possible that I could ever love any other than Maurice, my husband, the father of my child?”
Her voice was still trembling with emotion when she recounted the details of the interview to the abbe. But he did not perceive it. He was thinking only of the baron.
“I was sure that Martial would agree to everything; I was so certain of it that I have made all the arrangements for the baron to leave the farm. He will await, at your house, a safe-conduct from His Majesty.