Once only did Jean go to France to lend his aid to Cadondal's conspiracy, but he was obliged to flee precipitately, and with difficulty succeeded in gaining the frontier. On his return he was in a state of sullen rage. Was it despair at his lack of success, or did the Vicomte feel any remorse? His father watched him with troubled eyes and many fears, but did not dare ask a question.
What had become of Simon? The Marquis had read in a newspaper that a Simon Fougère carried the orders of the day at the battle of Hohenlinden. He leaped at once at the truth. Simonne's son was fighting for his country, while his other son, the Vicomte de Talizac, was fighting against it.
Suddenly the Marquis beheld the fall of the Imperial idol. The allied armies were in France. Vengeance was near at hand!
Three times the Marquis sent Pierre to France, but the faithful servant could learn nothing of Simon, but this last time he discovered that Simon was living. Pierre had been in the service of the Marquis for forty years. He had known Simonne, and felt for his master the deepest affection. He was of the people, and only this affection had induced him to leave France. By degrees he had become the confidant of his master, and read his half-broken heart like an open book, and realized that it was full of regrets, almost of remorse. Then he swore to himself that he would aid the Marquis to repair the injustice done to Simon. It is needless to say that Pierre's honest nature felt no sympathy for the Marquise. She, on the contrary, was the object of his deepest aversion, for he well knew that she had done her best to have him dismissed from the service of the Marquis.
The Vicomte de Talizac, the Vicomtesse, and their son, detested Pierre and watched him closely, with what aim they alone knew.
"I went to the Vosges, master," said Pierre. "I learned that the soldier known by the name of Simon Fougère had gone to Lorraine. I could learn nothing more. I went about everywhere—to Epinal, Nancy, Saint Dié—and I had begun to despair, when one evening I reached the foot of a mountain and saw a little cluster of houses. I asked a peasant who was passing if I could procure accommodations there for the night.
"Of course," he answered. "Go straight ahead and you will come to friend Simon's inn."
The Marquis listened breathlessly. Pierre continued:
"The name was a common one in that part of the country, as I had good reason to know, but this time my heart began to beat. I thanked the peasant and I hurried on. And when I think that a Comte de Fongereues——"