"Murdered?" exclaimed the marquis, mockingly: "that man fell fighting against the legitimate masters of the country."
"Your brother, Monsieur le Vicomte, was the victim of a well-laid plan; those persons who were interested in his death made their preparations with wonderful foresight."
The marquis frothed with anger, and it did not require very much more until he would have had the old man by the throat. He restrained himself, though; what good would it do him if he strangled Pierre before he knew the secret?
"Let us not discuss that matter," he hastily said; "other matters have brought me here—"
As Pierre remained silent, the marquis continued:
"I know perfectly well that that affair disturbed you. As the old servitor of my father you naturally were attached to the dead man. Yet, who could avert the catastrophe? The father, the mother and the two children were all slain at the same hour by the Cossacks, and—"
"You are mistaken, vicomte," interrupted Pierre, sharply; "the father fell in a struggle with paid assassins, the mother was burned to death, but the children escaped."
"You are fooling, old man," exclaimed the marquis, growing pale; "Jules's two children are dead."
The old man crossed his arms over his breast, and, looking steadily at the marquis, he firmly said:
"Monsieur le Vicomte, the children live."