Cornell University Library The original of tliis book is in tine Cornell University Library. There are no known copyright restrictions in the United States on the use of the text. http://www.archive.org/details/cu31924005291384 PQ2257.G2H7"""'""'""-"'"'^ The honor of the name, 3 1924 005 291 384 THE HONOR OF THE NAME For more than a minute he hunt; suspended over the abyss into which the baron had just fallen, and his hands clutched at the empty air. THE HONOR OF THE NAME Translated from the French of EMILE GABORIAU Illustrated by BAYARD JONES Charles Scribner's Sons New York .... 1903 Copyright, 1880, by ESTES & LAURIAT Copyright, igoo, by CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS For more than a minute he hung suspended over the abyss into which the baron had just fallen, and his hands clutched at the -empty air Frontispiece Facing page " The proof, Monsieur, is the word of this man, who of bis own free will comes to return to you — to give you a fortune." 44 " Let Mademoiselle de Courtornieu pass without hin- derance." 188 He recoiled with a heart-broken cry 490 THE HONOR OF THE NAME CHAPTER I On the first Sunday in the month of August, 1815, at ten o'clock precisely — as on every Sunday morning — the sacristan of the parish church at Sairmeuse sounded the three strokes of the bell which warn the faithful that the priest is ascending the steps of the altar to celebrate high mass. The church was already more than half full, and from eyery side little groups of peasants were hurrying into the church-yard. The women were all in their bravest attire, with cunning little fichus crossed upon their breasts, broad-striped, brightly colored skirts, and large white coifs. Being as economical as they were coquettish, they came barefooted, bringing their shoes in their hands, but put them on reverentially before entering the house of God. But few of the men entered the church. They re- mained outside to talk, seating themselves in the porch, or standing about the yard, in the shade of the century- old elms. For such was the custom in the hamlet of Sairmeuse. The two hours which the women consecrated to prayer the men employed in discussing the news, the success or the failure of the crops ; and, before the ser- 2 THE HONOR OF THE NAME vice ended, they could generally be found, glass in hand, in the bar-room of the village inn. For the farmers for a league around, the Sunday mass was only an excuse for a reunion, a sort of weekly bourse. All the cures who had been successively stationed at Sairmeuse had endeavored to put an end to this scan- dalous habit, as they termed it ; but all their efiforts had made no impression upon country obstinacy. They had succeeded in gaining only one concession. At the moment of the elevation of the Host, voices were hushed, heads uncovered, and a few even bowed the knee, and made the sign of the cross. But this was the afifair of an instant only, and conver- sation was immediately resumed with increased vivac- ity. But to-day the usual animation was wanting. No sounds came from the little knots of men gath- ered here and there, not an oath, not a laugh. Be- tween buyers and sellers, one did not overhear a single one of those interminable discussions, punctuated with the popular oaths, such as : " By my faith in God ! " or " May the devil burn me ! " They were not talking, they were whispering to- gether. A gloomy sadness was visible upon each face ; lips were placed cautiously at the listener's ear ; anxiety could be read in every eye. One scented misfortune in the very air. Only a month had elapsed since Louis XVHI. had been, for the second time, installed in the Tuileries by a triumphant coalition. The earth had not yet had time to swallow the sea of blood that flowed at Waterloo; twelve hundred thou- sand foreign soldiers desecrated the soil of France ; the Prussian General Muffling was Governor of Paris. THE HONOR OF THE NAME 3 And the peasantry of Sairmeuse trembled with in- dignation and fear. This king, brought back by the allies, was no less to be dreaded than the allies themselves. To them this great name of Bourbon signified only a terrible burden of taxation and oppression. Above all, it signified ruin — for there was scarcely one among them who had not purchased some morsel of government land ; and they were assured now that all estates were to be returned to the former proprie- tors, who had emigrated after the overthrow of the Bourbons. Hence, it was with a feverish curiosity that most of them clustered around a young man who, only two days before, had returned from the army. With tears of rage in his eyes, he was recounting the shame and the misery of the invasion. He told of the pillage at Versailles, the exactions at Orleans, and the pitiless requisitions that had stripped the people of everything. " And these accursed foreigners to whom the trai- tors have delivered us, will not go so long as a shilling or a bottle of wine is left in France ! " he exclaimed. As he said this he shook his clinched fist menacingly at a white flag that floated from the tower. His generous anger won the close attention of his auditors, and they were still listening to him with un- diminished interest, when the sound of a horse's hoofs resounded upon the stones of the only street in Sair- meuse. A shudder traversed the crowd. The same fear stopped the beating of every heart. Who could say that this rider was not some English or Prussian officer? He had come, perhaps, to an- 4 THE HONOR OF THE NAME nounce the arrival of his regiment, and imperiously demand money, clothing, and food for his soldiers. But the suspense was not of long duration. The rider proved to be a fellow-countryman, clad in a torn and dirty blue linen blouse. He was urging for- ward, with repeated blows, a little, bony, nervous mare, covered with foam. " Ah ! it is Father Chupin," murmured one of the peasants, with a sigh of relief. " The same," observed another. " He seems to be in a terrible hurry." " The old rascal has probably stolen the horse he is riding." This last remark disclosed the reputation Father Chupin enjoyed among his neighbors. He was, indeed, one of those thieves who are the scourge and the terror of the rural districts. He pre- tended to be a day-laborer, but the truth was, that he held all work in holy horror, and spent all his time in sleeping and idling about his hovel. Hence, stealing was the only means of support for himself, his wife, and two sons — terrible youths, who, somehow, had es- caped the conscription. They consumed nothing that was not stolen. Wheat, wine, fuel, fruits — all were the rightful property of others. Hunting ^and fishing at all seasons, and with forbidden appliances, furnished them with ready money. Everyone in the neighborhood knew this ; and yet when Father Chupin was pursued and captured, as he was occasionally, no witness could be found to testify against him. " He is a hard case," men said ; " and if he had a grudge against anyone, he would be quite capable of THE HONOR OF THE NAME 5 lying in anibush and shooting him as he would a squir- rel." Meanwhile the rider had drawn rein at the inn of the Boeuf Couronne. He alighted from his horse, and, crossing the square, approached the church. He was a large man, about fifty years of age, as gnarled and sinewy as the stem of an old grape-vine. At the first glance one would not have taken him for a scoundrel. His manner was humble, and even gentle ; but the restlessness of his eye and the expression of his thin lips betrayed diabolical cunning and the coolest calculation. ' At any other time this despised and dreaded indi- vidual would have been avoided; but curiosity and anxiety led the crowd toward him. " Ah, well. Father Chupin ! " they cried, as soon as he was within the sound of their voices ; " whence do you come in such haste ? " " From the. city." To the inhabitants of Sairmeuse and its environs, " the city " meant the country town of the arrondisse- ment, Montaignac, a charming sub-prefecture of eight thousand souls, about four leagues distant. " And was it at Montaignac that you bought the horse you were riding just now ? " " I did not buy it ; it was loaned to me." This was such a strange assertion that his listeners could not repress a smile. He did not seem to notice it, however. " It was loaned me," he continued, " in order that I might bring some great news here the quicker." Fear resumed possession of the peasantry. " Is the enemy in the city ? " anxiously inquired some of the more timid. 6 THE HONOR OF THE NAME " Yes ; but not the enemy you refer to. This is the former lord of the manor, the Due de Sairmeuse." " Ah ! they said he was dead." " They were mistaken." " Have you seen him ? " " No, / have not seen him, but someone else has seen him for me, and has spoken to him. And this someone is Monsieur Laugeron, the proprietor of the Hotel de France at Montaignac. I was passing the house this morning, when he called me. ' Here, old man,' he said, ' do you wish to do me a favor ? ' Nat- urally I replied : ' Yes.' Whereupon he placed a coin in my hand and said : ' Well ! go and tell them to saddle a horse for you, then gallop to Sairmeuse, and tell my friend Lacheneur that the Due de Sair- meuse arrived here last night in a post-chaise, with his son. Monsieur Martial, and two servants." Here, in the midst of these peasants, who were lis- tening to him with pale cheeks and set teeth. Father Chupin preserved the subdued mien appropriate to a messenger of misfortune. But if one had observed him carefully, one would have detected an ironical smile upon his lips and a gleam of malicious joy in his eyes. He was, in fact, inwardly jubilant. At that moment he had his revenge for all the slights and all the scorn he had been forced to endure. And what a revenge ! And if his words seemed to fall slowly and reluctant- ly from his lips, it was only because he was trying to prolong the sufferings of his auditors as much as possi- ble. But a robust young fellow, with an intelligent face,, who, perhaps, read Father Chupin's secret heart, brusquely interrupted him : THE HONOR OF THE NAME 7 " What does the presence of the Due de Sairmeuse at Montaignac matter to us ? " he exclaimed. " Let him remain at the Hotel de France as long as he chooses ; we shall not go in search of him." " No ! we shall not go in search of him," echoed the -other peasants, approvingly. The old rogue shook his head with afifected commis- eration. " Monsieur le Due will not put you to that trouble," lie repHed ; " he will be here in less than two hours." " How do you know? " " I know it through Monsieur Laugeron, who, when I mounted his horse, said to me : ' Above all, old man, explain to my friend Lacheneur that the duke has •ordered horses to be in readiness to convey him to Sairmeuse at eleven o'clock.' " With a common movement, all the peasants who had watches consulted them. " And what does he want here ? " demanded the .same young farmer. " Pardon ! he did not tell me," replied Father Chu- pin ; " but one need not be very cunning to guess. He •comes to revisit his former estates, and to take them from those who have purchased them, if possible. From you, Rousselet, he will claim the meadows upon the Oiselle, which always yield two crops ; from you. Father Gauchais, the ground upon which the Croix- Brulee stands ; from you, Chanlouineau, the vineyards ■on the Borderie " Chanlouineau was the impetuous young man who had interrupted Father Chupin twice already. " Claim the Borderie ! " he exclaimed, with even greater violence ; " let him try, and we will see. It was waste land when my father bought it — covered with 8 THE HONOR OF THE NAME briers ; even a goat could not have found pasture there> We have cleared it of stones, we have scratched up the soil with our very nails, we have watered it with our sweat, and now they would try to take it from us ! Ah I' they shall have my last drop of blood first ! " " I do not say but " " But what ? Is it any fault of ours that the nobles fled to foreign lands ? We have not stolen their lands,, have we ? The government ofifered them for sale ; we bought them, and paid for them ; they are lawfully ours." " That is true ; but Monsieur de Sairmeuse is the great fripnd of the king." The young soldier, whose voice had aroused the most noble sentiments only a moment before, was for- gotten. Invaded France, the threatening enemy, were alike forgotten. The all-powerful instinct of avarice was suddenly aroused. " In my opinion," resumed Chanlouineau, " we should do well to consult the Baron d'Escorval." " Yes, yes ! " exclaimed the peasants ; " let us go at once ! " They were starting, when a villager who sometimes read the papers, checked them by saying : " Take care what you do. Do you not know that since the return of the Bourbons Monsieur d'Escorval is of no account whatever ? Fouche has him upon the proscription list, and he is under the surveillance of the police." This objection dampened the enthusiasm. " That is true," murmured some of the older men ;; " a visit to Monsieur d'Escorval would, perhaps, do us more harm than good. And, besides, what advice could he give us ? " THE HONOR OF THE NAME 9 Chanlouineau had forgotten all prudence. " What of that ? " he exclaimed. " If Monsieur d'Escorval has no counsel to give us about this matter, he can, perhaps, teach us how to resist and to defend ourselves." For some moments Father Chupin had been study- ing, with an impassive countenance, the storm of anger he had aroused. In his secret heart he experienced the satisfaction of the incendiary at the sight of the flames he has kindled. Perhaps he already had a presentiment of the in- famous part he would play a few months later. Satisfied with his experiment, he assumed, for the time, the role of moderator. " Wait a little. Do not cry before you are hurt," he exclaimed, in an ironical tone. " Who told you that the Due de Sairmeuse would trouble you? How much of his former domain do you all own between you? Almost nothing. A few fields and meadows and a hill on the Borderie. All these together did not in former times yield him an income of five thousand francs a year." " Yet, that is true," replied Chanlouineau ; " and if the revenue you mention is quadrupled, it is only be- cause the land is now in the hands of forty proprietors who cultivate it themselves." " Another reason why the duke will not say a word ; he will not wish to set the whole district in commotion. In my opinion, he will dispossess only one of the owners of his former estates, and that is our worthy ex-mayor — Monsieur Lacheneur, in short." Ah ! he knew only too well the egotism of his com- patriots. He knew with what complacency and eager- ness they would accept an expiatory victim whose sac- rifice should be their salvation. lo THE HONOR OF THE NAME " That is a fact," remarked an old man ; " Monsieur Lacheneur owns nearly all the Sairmeuse property." " Say all, while you are about it," rejoined Father Chupin. " Where does Monsieur Lacheneur live ? In that beautiful Chateau de Sairmeuse whose gable we can see there through the trees. He hunts in the forests which once belonged to the Dues de Sair- meuse ; he fishes in their lakes ; he drives the horses which once belonged to them, in the carriages upon which one could now see their coat-of-arms, if it had not been painted out. " Twenty years ago, Lacheneur was a poor devil like myself; now, he is a grand gentleman with fifty thou- sand livres a year. He wears the finest broadcloth and top-boots like the Baron d'Escorval. He no longer works ; he makes others work ; and when he passes, everyone must bow to the earth. If you kill so much as a sparrow upon his lands, as he says, he will cast you into prison. ' Ah, he has been fortunate. The emperor made him mayor. The Bourbons de- prived him of his office ; but what does that matter to him? He is still the real master here, as the Sair- meuse were in other days. His son is pursuing his studies in Paris, intending to become a notary. As for his daughter, Mademoiselle Marie-Anne " " Not a word against her ! " exclaimed Chanloui- neau ; " if she were mistress, there would not be a poor man in the country ; and yet, how some of her pension- ers abuse her bounty. Ask your wife if this is not so. Father Chupin." Undoubtedly the impetuous young man spoke at the peril of his life. But the wicked old Chupin s^vallowed this affront which he would never forget, and humbly continued : THE HONOR OF THE NAME ii " I do not say that Mademoiselle Marie- Anne is not generous ; but after all her charitable work she has plenty of money left for her fine dresses and her fal- lals. I think that Monsieur Lacheneur ought to be very well content, even after he has restored to its former owner one-half or even three-quarters of the property he has acquired — no one can tell how. He would have enough left then to grind the poor under foot." After his appeal to selfishness, Father Chupin ap- pealed to envy. There could be no doubt of his suc- cess. But he had not time to pursue his advantage. The services were over, and the worshippers were leaving the church. Soon there appeared upon the porch the man in question, with a young girl of dazzling beauty leaning upon his arm. Father Chupin walked straight toward him, and brusquely delivered his message. M. Lacheneur staggered beneath the blow. He turned first so red, then so frightfully pale, that those around him thought he was about to fall. But he quickly recovered his self-possession, and without a word to the messenger, he walked rapidly • away, leading his daughter. Some minutes later an old post-chaise, drawn by four horses, dashed through the village at a gallop, and paused before the house of the village cure. Then one might have witnessed a singular spectacle. Father Chupin had gathered his wife and his chil- dren together, and the four surrounded the carriage, shouting, with all the power of their lungs : " Long live the Due de Sairmeuse ! " 12 THE HONOR OF THE NAME CHAPTER II A gently ascending road, more than two miles in length, shaded by a quadruple row of venerable elms, led from the village to the Chateau de Sairmeuse. Nothing could be more beautiful than this avenue, a fit approach to a palace ; and the stranger who beheld it could understand the naively vain proverb of the country : " He does not know the real beauty of France, who has never seen Sairmeuse nor the Oi- selle."- The Oiselle is the little river which one crosses by means of a wooden bridge on leaving the village, and whose clear and rapid waters give a delicious freshness to the valley. At every step, as one ascends, the view changes. It is as if an enchanting panorama were being slowly un- rolled before one. On the right you can see the saw-mills of Fereol. On the left, like an ocean of verdure, the forest of Dol- omien trembles in the breeze. Those imposing ruins on the other side of the river are all that remain of the feudal manor of the house of Breulh. That red brick mansion, with granite trimmings, half concealed by a bjend in the river, belongs to the Baron d'Escorval. And if the day is clear, one can easily distinguish the spires of Montaignac in the distance. This was the path traversed by M. Lacheneur after Chupin had delivered his message. But what did he care for the beauties of the land- scape ! Upon the church porch he had received his death- wound ; and now, with a tottering and dragging step. THE HONOR OF THE NAME 13 he dragged himself along Hke one of those poor sol- diers, mortally wounded upon the field of battle, who go back, seeking a ditch or quiet spot where they can lie down and die. He seemed to have lost all thought of his surround- ings — all consciousness of previous events. He pur- sued his way, lost in his reflections, guided only by force of habit. Two or three times his daughter, Marie-Anne, who was walking by his side, addressed him ; but an " Ah ! let me alone ! " uttered in a harsh tone, was the only response she could draw from him. Evidently he had received a terrible blow; and un- doubtedly, as often happens under such circumstances, the unfortunate man was reviewing all the different phases of his life. At twenty Lacheneur was only a poor ploughboy in the service of the Sairmeuse family. His ambition was modest then. When stretched beneath a tree at the hour of noonday rest, his dreams were as simple as those of an infant. " If I could but amass a hundred pistoles," he thought, " I would ask Father Barrois for the hand of his daughter Martha ; and he would not refuse me." A hundred pistoles ! A thousand francs ! — an enor- mous sum for him who, in two' years of toil and priva- tion had only laid by eleven louis, which he had placed carefully in a tiny box and hidden in the depths of his straw mattress. Still he did not. despair. He had read in Martha's eyes that she would wait. And Mile. Armande de Sairmeuse, a rich old maid, was his god-mother; and he thought, if he attacked her adroitly, that he might, perhaps, interest her in his loveraffair. 14 THE HONOR OF THE NAME Then the terrible storm of the revolution bt rst over France. With the fall of the first thunder-bolts, the JOuke of Sairmeuse left France with the Count d'Artois. - They took refuge in foreign lands as a passer-by seeks shel- ter in a doorway from a summer shower, saying to himself: " This will not last long." The storm did last, however ; and the following year Mile. Armande, who had remained at Sairmeuse, died. The chateau was then closed, the president of the district took possession of the keys in the name of the government, and the servants were scattered. Lacheneur took up his residence in Montaignac. Young, daring, and personally attractive, blessed with an energetic face, and an intelligence far above his station, it was not long before he became well known in the political clubs. For three months Lacheneur was the tyrant of Moht taignac. But this metier of public speaker is by no means lucrative, so the surprise throughout the district was immense, when it was ascertained that the former ploughboy had purchased the chateau, and almost all the land belonging to his old master. It is true that the nation had sold this princely do- main for scarcely a twentieth part of its real value. The appraisement was sixty-nine thousand francs. It was giving the property away. And yet, it was necessary to have this amount, and Lacheneur possessed it, since he had poured it in a flood of beautiful louis d'or into the hands of the re- ceiver of the district. From that moment his popularity waned. The patriots who had applauded the ploughboy, cursed the THE HONOR OF THE NAME 15 capitalist. He discreetly left them to recover from their rage as best they could, and returned to Sair- meuse. There everyone bowed low before Citoyen Lacheneur. Unlike most people, he did not forget his past hopes at the moment when they might be realized. He married Martha Barrois, and, leaving the coun- try to work out its own salvation without his assist- ance, he gave his time and attention to agriculture. Any close observer, in those days, would have felt certain that the man was bewildered by the sudden change in his situation. His manner was so troubled and anxious that one, to see him, would have supposed him a servant in con- stant fear of being detected in some indiscretion. He did not open the chateau, but installed himself and his young wife in the cottage formerly occupied by the head game-keeper, near the entrance of the park. But, little by little, with the habit of possession, came assurance. The Consulate had succeeded the Directory, the Empire succeeded the Consulate, Citoyen Lacheneur became M. Lacheneur. Appointed mayor two years later, he left the cottage and took possession of the chateau. The former ploughboy slumbered in the. bed of the Dues de Sairmeuse; he ate from the massive plate, graven with their coat-of-arms ; he received his visitors in the magnificent salon in which the Dues de Sair- meuse had received their friends in years gone by. To those who had known him in former days, M. Lacheneur had become unrecognizable. He had adapted himself to his lofty station. Blushing at his i6 THE HONOR OF THE NAME own ignorance, he had found the courage — wonderful in one of his age — to acquire the education which he lacked. Then, all his undertakings were successful to such a degree that his good fortune had become proverbial. That he took any part in an enterprise, sufficed to make it turn out well. His wife had given him two lovely children, a son and a daughter. His property, managed with a shrewdness and sa- gacity which the former owners had not possessed, yielded him an income of at least sixty thousand francs. How many, under similar circumstances, would have lost their heads! But he, M. Lacheneur, had been wise enough to retain his sang-froid. In spite of the princely luxury that surrounded him, his own habits were simple and frugal. He had never had an attendant for his own person. His large in- come he consecrated almost entirely to the improve- ment of his estate or to the purchase of more land. And yet, he was not avaricious. In all that concerned his wife or children, he did not count the cost. His son, Jean, had been educated in Paris ; he wished him to be fitted for any position. Unwilling to consent to a separation from his daughter, he had procured a gov- erness to take charge of her education. Sometimes his friends accused him of an inordinate ambition for his children; but he always shook his head sadly, as he replied : " If I can only insure them a modest and comfort- able future! But what folly it is to count upon the future. Thirty years ago, who could have foreseen that the Sairmeuse family would be deprived of their estates ? " THE HONOR OF THE NAME 17 With such opinions he should have been a good master ; he was, but no one thought the better of him on that account. His former comrades could not for- give him for his sudden elevation. They seldom spoke of him without wishing his ruin in ambiguous words. Alas ! the evil days came. Toward the close of the year 1812, he lost his wife; the disasters of the year 1813 swept away a large portion of his personal fort- une, which had been invested in a manufacturing en- terprise. Compromised by the first Restoration, he was obliged to conceal himself for a time ; and to cap the climax, the conduct of his son, who was still in Paris, caused him serious disquietude. Only the evening before, he had thought himself the most unfortunate of men. But here was another misfortune menacing him ; a misfortune so terrible that all the others were forgot- ten. From the day on which he had purchased Sair- meuse to this fatal Sunday in August, 1815, was an in- terval of twenty years. Twenty years ! And it seemed to him only yester- day that, blushing and trembling, he had laid those piles of louis d'or upon the desk of the receiver of the district. Had he dreamed it? He had not dreamed it. His entire life, with its struggles and its miseries, its hopes and its fears, its unexpected joys and its blighted hopes, all passed be- fore him. Lost in these memories, he had quite forgotten the present situation, when a commonplace incident, more powerful than the voice of his daughter, brought him back to the terrible reality. i8 THE HONOR OF THE NAME The gate leading to the Chateau de Sairmeuse, to his chateau, was found to be locked. He shook it with a sort of rage ; and, being unable to break the fastening, he fovind some relief in break- ing the bell. On hearing the noise, the gardener came running to the scene of action. "Why is this gate closed?" demanded M. Lache- neur, with unwonted violence of manner. " By what right do you barricade my house when I, the master, am without ? " The gardener tried to make some excuse. " Hold your tongue ! " interrupted M. Lacheneur. " I dismiss you ; you are no longer in my service." He passed on, leaving the gardener petrified with astonishment, crossed the court-yard — a court-yard worthy of the mansion, bordered with velvet turf, with flowers, and with dense shrubbery. In the vestibule, inlaid with marble, three of his tenants sat awaiting him, for it was on Sunday that he always received the workmen who desired to confer with him. They rose at his approach, and removed their hats deferentially. But he did not give them time to utter a word. " Who permitted you to enter here ? " he said, sav- agely, " and what do you desire ? They sent you to play the spy on me, did they ? Leave, I tell you ! " The three farmers were even more bewildered and dismayed than the gardener had been, and their re- marks must have been interesting. But M. Lacheneur could not hear them. He had opened the door of the grand salon, and dashed in, followed by his frightened daughter. THE HONOR OF THE NAME 19 Never had Marie-Anne seen her father in such a mood; and she trembled, her heart torn by the most frightful presentiments. She had heard it said that oftentimes, under the in- fluence of some dire calamity, unfortunate men have suddenly lost their reason entirely ; and she was won- dering if her father had become insane. It would seem, indeed, that such was the case. His eyes flashed, convulsive shudders shook his whole body, a white foam gathered on his lips. He made the circuit of the room as a wild beast makes the circuit of his cage, uttering harsh impreca- tions and making frenzied gestures. His actions were strange, incomprehensible. Some- times he seemed to be trying the thickness of the car- pet with the toe of his boot ; sometimes he threw him- self upon a sofa or a chair, as if to test its softness. Occasionally, he paused abruptly before some one of the valuable pictures that covered the walls, or be- fore a bronze. One might have supposed that he was taking an inventory, and appraising all the magnificent and costly articles which decorated this apartment, the most sumptuous in the chateau. " And I must renounce all this ! " he exclaimed, at last. These words explained everything. " No, never ! " he resumed, in a transport of rage ; " never ! never ! I cannot ! I will not ! " Now Marie-Anne understood it all. But what was passing in her father's mind? She wished to know; and, leaving the low chair in which she had been seated, she went to her father's side. " Are you ill, father ? " she asked, in her sweet voice ; "what is the matter? What do you fear? Why do 20 THE HONOR OF THE NAME you not confide in me? Am I not your daughter? Do you no longer love me ? " At the sound of this dear voice, M. Lacheneur trem- bled like a sleeper suddenly aroused from the terrors of a nightmare, and he cast an indescribable glance upon his daughter. " Did you not hear what Chupin said to me ? " he replied, slowly. " The Due de Sairmeuse is at Mon- taignac ; he will soon be here ; and we are dwelling in the chateau of his fathers, and his domain has become ours I " The vexed question regarding the national lands, which agitated France for thirty years, Marie under- stood, for she had heard it discussed a thousand times. " Ah, well, dear father," said she, " what does that matter, even if we do hold the property? You have bought it and paid for it, have you not ? So it is right- fully and lawfully ours." M. Lacheneur hesitated a moment before replying. But his secret suffocated him. He was in one of those crises in which a man, however strong he may be, totters and seeks some support, however fragile. " You would be right, my daughter," he murmured, with drooping head, " if the money that I gave in ex- change for Sairmeuse had really belonged to me." At this strange avowal the young girl turned pale and recoiled a step. "What?" she faltered; "this gold was not yours, my father? To whom did it belong? From whence did it come ? " The unhappy man had gone too far to retract. " I will tell you all, my daughter," he replied, " and you shall judge. You shall decide. When the Sair- meuse family fled from France, I had only my hands to THE HONOR OF THE NAME 21 depend upon, and as it was almost impossible to obtain work, I wondered if starvation were not near at hand. " Such was my condition when someone came after me one evening to tell me that Mademoiselle Armande de Sairmeuse, my godmother, was dying, and wished to speak with me. I ran to the chateau. " The messenger had told the truth. Mademoiselle Armande was sick unto death. I felt this on seeing her upon her bed, whiter than wax. " Ah ! if I were to live a hundred years, never should I forget her face as it looked at that moment. It was expressive of a strength of will and an energy that would hold death at bay until the task upon which she had determined was performed. " When I entered the room I saw a look of relief ap- pear upon her countenance. " ' How long you were in coming ! ' she murmured faintly. " I was about to make some excuse, when she mo- tioned me to pause, and ordered the women who sur- rounded her to leave the room. " As soon as we were alone : " ' You are an honest boy,' said she, ' and I am about to give you a proof of my confidence. People believe me to be poor, but they are mistaken. While my rela- tives were gayly ruining themselves, I was saving the five hundred louis which the duke, my brother, gave me each year.' " She motioned me to come nearer, and to kneel be- side her bed. " I obeyed, and Mademoiselle Armande leaned toward me, almost glued her lips to my ear, and added : " ' I possess eighty thousand francs.' " I felt a sudden- giddiness, but my godmother did not notice it. 22 THE HONOR OF THE NAME '"This amount,' she continued, 'is not a quarter part of the former income from our family estates. But now, who knows but it will, one day, be the only resource of the Sairmeuse ? I am going to place it in your charge, Lacheneur. I confide it to your honor and to your devotion. The estates belonging to the emigrants are to be sold, I hear. If such an act of in- justice is committed, you will probably be able to pur- chase our property for seventy thousand francs. If the property is sold by the government, purchase it; if the lands belonging to the emigrants are not sold, take that amount to the duke, my brother, who is with the Count d'Artois. The surplus, that is to say, the ten thousand francs remaining, I give to you — they are yours.' " She seemed to recover her strength. She raised herself in bed, and, holding the crucifix attached to her rosary to my lips, she said : " ' Swear by the image of our Saviour, that you will faithfully execute the last will of your dying god- mother.' " I took the required oath, and an expression of sat- isfaction overspread her features. " ' That is well,' she said ; ' I shall die content. You will have a protector on high. But this is not all. In times like these in which we live, this gold will not be safe in your hands unless those about you are ignorant that you possess it. I have been endeavoring to dis- cover some way by which you could remove it from my room, and from the chateau, without the knowl- edge of anyone ; and I have found a way. The gold is here in this cupboard, at the head of my bed, in a stout oaken chest. You must find strength to move the chest — ^you must. You can fasten a sheet around it. THE HONOR OF THE NAME 23 and let it down gently from the window into the gar- den. You will then leave the house as you entered it, and as soon as you are outside, you must take the chest and carry it to your home. The night is very dark, and no one will see you, if you are careful. But make haste; my strength is nearly gone.' " The chest was heavy, but I was very strong. " In less than ten minutes the task of removing the chest from the chateau was accomplished, without a single sound that would betray us. As I closed the window, I said : " ' It is done, godmother.' " ' God be praised ! ' she whispered ; ' Sairmeuse is saved ! ' " I heard a deep sigh. I turned ; she was dead." This scene that M. Lacheneur was relating rose vividly before him. To feign, to disguise the truth, or to conceal any- portion of it was an impossibility. He forgot himself and his daughter ; he thought only of the dead woman, of Mile. Armande de Sairmeuse. And he shuddered on pronouncing the words: " She was dead." It seemed to him that she was about to speak, and to insist upon the fulfilment of his pledge. After a moment's silence, he resumed, in a hollow voice : " I called for aid ; it came. Mademoiselle Armande was adored by everyone ; there was great lamentation, and a half hour of indescribable confusion followed her death. I was able to withdraw, unnoticed, to run into the garden, and to carry away the oaken chest. An hour later, it was concealed in the m.iserable hovel in which I dwelt. The following year I purchased Sair- meuse." 24 THE HONOR OF THE NAME He had confessed all ; and he paused, trembling, try- ing to read his sentence in the eyes of his daughter. " And can you hesitate ? " she demanded. " Ah ! you do not know " " I know that Sairmeuse must be given up." This was the decree of his own conscience, that faint voice which speaks only in a whisper, but which all the tumult on earth cannot overpower. " No one saw me take away the chest," he faltered. " If anyone suspected it, there is not a single proof against me. But no one does suspect it." Marie-Anne rose, her eyes flashed with generous in- dignation. " My father ! " she exclaimed ; " oh ! my father ! " Then, in a calmer tone, she added : " If others know nothing of this, can you forget it ?" M. Lacheneur appeared almost ready to succumb to the torture of the terrible conflict raging in his soul. " Return ! " he exclaimed. " What shall I return ? That which I have received ? So be it. I consent. I will give the duke the eighty thousand francs ; to this amount I will add the interest on this sum since I have had it, and — ^we shall be free of all obligation." The girl sadly shook her head. " Why do you resort to subterfuges which are so unworthy of you ? " she asked, gently. " You know perfectly well that it was Sairmeuse which Mademoi- selle Armande intended to intrust to the servaiTt of her house. And it is Sairmeuse which must be returned." The word " servant " was revolting to a man, who, at least, while the empire endured, had been a power in the land. " Ah ! you are cruel, my daughter," he said, with in- tense bitterness ; " as cruel as a child who has never THE HONOR OF THE NAME 25 suffered — as cruel as one who, having never himself been tempted, is without mercy for those who have yielded to temptation. " It is one of those acts which God alone can judge, since God alone can read the depths of one's secret soul. " I am only a depositary, you tell me. It was, in- deed, in this light that I formerly regarded myself. " If your poor sainted mother was still alive, she would tell you the anxiety and anguish I felt on being made the master of riches which were not mine. I trembled lest I should yield to their seductions ; I was afraid of myself. I felt as a gambler might feel who had the winnings of others confided to his care ; as a drunkard might feel who had been placed in charge of a quantity of the most delicious wines. " Your mother would tell you that I moved heaven and earth to find the Due de Sairmeuse. But he had left the Count d'Artois, and no one knew where he had gone or what had become of him. Ten years passed before I could make up my mind to inhabit the chateau — yes, ten years — during which I had the furniture dusted each morning as if the master was to return that evening. " At last I ventured. I had heard Monsieur d'Es- corval declare that the duke had been killed in battle. I took up my abode here. And from day to day, in proportion as the domain of Sairmeuse became more beautiful and extensive beneath my care, I felt myself more and more its rightful owner." But this despairing pleading in behalf of a bad cause produced no impression upon Marie-Anne's loyal heart. " Restitution must be made," she repeated. 26 THE HONOR OF THE NAME M. Lacheneur wrung his hands. " Implacable ! " he exclaimed ; " she is implacable. Unfortunate girl ! does she not understand that it is for her sake I wish to remain where I am ? I am old, and I am familiar with toil and poverty ; idleness has not removed the callosities from my hands. What do I require to keep me alive until the day comes for me to take my place in the graveyard ? A crust of bread and an onion in the morning, a porringer of soup in the evening, and for the night a bundle of straw. I could easily earn that. But you, unhappy child ! and your brother, what will become of you ? " " We must not discuss nor haggle with duty, my father. I think, however, that you are needlessly alarmed. I believe the duke is too noble-hearted ever to allow you to sufifer want after the immense service you have rendered him." The old servitor of the house of Sairmeuse laughed a loud, bitter laugh. " You believe that ! " said he ; " then you do not know the nobles who have been our masters for ages. ' A., you are a worthy fellow ! ' — very coldly said — will be the only recompense I shall receive ; and you will see us, me, at my plough; you, out at service. And if I venture to speak of the ten thousand francs that were given me, I shall be treated as an impostor, as an impudent fool. By the holy name of God this shall not be ! " "Oh, my father!" " No ! this shall not be. And I realize — as you can- not realize^the disgrace of such a fall. You think you are beloved in Sairmeuse? You are mistaken. We have been too fortunate not to be the victims of hatred and jealousy. If I fall to-mbrrow, you will see THE HONOR OF THE JSTAME 27 all who kissed your hands to-day fall upon you to tear you to pieces ! " His eye glittered ; he believed he had found a vic- torious argument. " And then you, yourself, will realize the horror of the disgrace. It will cost you the deadly anguish of a separation from him whom your heart has chosen." He had spoken truly, for Marie-Anne's beautiful eyes filled with tears. " If what you say proves true, father," she mur- mured, in an altered voice, " I may, perhaps, die of sorrow ; but I cannot fail to realize that my confidence and my love has been misplaced." " And you still insist upon my returning Sairmeuse to its former owner ? " " Honor speaks, my father." M. Lacheneur made the arm-chair in which he was seated tremble by a violent blow of his fist. " And if / am just as obstinate," he exclaimed — " if I keep the property — ^what will you do ? " " I shall say to myself, father, that honest poverty is better than stolen wealth. I shall leave this chateau, which belongs to the Due de Sairmeuse, and I shall seek a situation as a servant in the neighborhood." M. Lacheneur sank back in his arm-chair sobbing. He knew his daughter's nature well enough to be as- sured that what she said, that she would do. But he was conquered; his daughter had won the battle. He had decided to make the heroic sacrifice. " 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 28 THE HONOR OF THE NAME distinguished appearance, but with a rather melan- choly and gentle manner. His eyes when he entered the apartment encoun- tered 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 Due de Sairmeuse and his son have just arrived. They have asked the hospital- ity of our cure." M. Lacheneur rose, unable to conceal his frightful agitation. " You will thank the Baron d'Escorval for his atten- tion, my dear Maurice," he responded. " I shall have the honor of seeing him to-day, after a very momen- tous 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." CHAPTER HI Few of the inhabitants of Sairmeuse knew, except by name, the terrible duke whose arrival had thrown the whole village into commotion. Some of the oldest residents had a faint recollection of having seen him long ago, before '89 indeed, when he came to visit his aunt. Mile. Armande. THE HONOR OF THE NAME 29 His duties, then, had seldom permitted him to leave the court. If he had given no sign of life during the empire, it was because he had not been compelled to submit to the humiliations and suffering which so many of the emigrants were obliged to endure in their exile. On the contrary, he had received, in exchange for the wealth of which he had been deprived by the revo- lution, a princely fortune. Taking refuge in London after the defeat of the army of Conde, he had been so fortunate as to please the only daughter of Lord Holland, one of the richest peers in England, and he had married her. She possessed a fortune of two hundred and fifty thousand pounds sterling, more than six million francs. Still the marriage was not a happy one. The chosen companion of the dissipated and licentious Count d'Artois was not likely to prove a very good husband. The young duchess was contemplating a separation when she died, in giving birth to a boy, who was bap- tized under the names of Anne-Marie-Martial. The loss of his wife did not render the Due de Sair- meuse inconsolable. He was free and richer than he had ever been. As soon as les convenances permitted, he confided his son to the care of a relative of his wife, and began his roving life again. Rumor had told the truth. He had fought, and that furiously, against France in the Austrian, and then in the Russian ranks. And he took no pains to conceal the fact ; convinced that he had only performed his duty. He considered that he had honestly and loyally gained the rank of general which the Emperor of all the Russias had be- stowed upon him. 30 THE HONOR OF THE NAME He had not returned to France during the first Res- toration ; but his absence had been involuntary. His father-in-law, Lord Holland, had just died, and the duke was detained in London by business connected with his son's immense inheritance. Then followed the " Hundred Days." They exas- perated him. But " the good cause," as he styled it, having tri- umphed anew, he hastened to France. Alas 1 Lacheneur judged the character of his- former master correctly, when he resisted the entreaties of his daughter. This man, who had been compelled to conceal him- self during the first Restoration, knew only too well, that the returned emigres had learned nothing and for- gotten nothing. The Due de Sairmeuse was no exception to the rule. He thought, and nothing could be more sadly ab- surd, that a mere act of authority would suffice to sup- press forever all the events of the Revolution and of the empire. When he said : " I do not admit that ! " he firmly be- lieved that there was nothing more to be said; that controversy was ended; and that what had been was as if it had never been. If some, who had seen Louis XVII. at the helm in 1 8 14, assured the duke that France had changed in many respects since 1789, he responded with a shrug of the shoulders : " Nonsense ! As soon as we assert ourselves, all these rascals, whose rebellion alarms you, will quietly sink out of sight." Such was really his opinion. THE HONOR OF THE NAME 31 On the way from Montaignac to Sairmeuse, the duke, comfortably ensconced in his berlin, unfolded his theories for the benefit of his son. " The King has been poorly advised,'' he said, in conclusion. " Besides, I am disposed to believe that he inclines too much to Jacobinism. If he M^ould lis- ten to my advice, he would make use of the twelve hundred thousand soldiers which our friends have placed at his disposal, to bring his subjects to a sense of their duty. Twelve hundred thousand bayonets have far more eloquence than the articles of a charter." He continued his remarks on this subject until the carriage approached Sairmeuse. Though but little given to sentiment, he was really affected by the sight of the country in which he was born — ^where he had played as a child, and of which he had heard nothing since the death of his aunt. Everything was changed: still the outlines of the landscape remained the same ; the valley of'the Oiselle was as bright and laughing as in days gone by. " I recognize it ! " he exclaimed, with a delight that made him forget politics. " I recognize it ! " Soon the changes became more striking. The carriage entered Sairmeuse, and rattled over the stones of the only street in the village. This street, in former years, had been unpaved, and had always been rendered impassable by wet weather. " Ah, ha ! " murmured the duke, " this is an im- provement ! " It was not long before he noticed others. The dilap- idated, thatched hovels had given place to pretty and comfortable white cottages with green blinds, and a vine hanging gracefully over the door. As the carriage passed the public square in front of 32 THE HONOR OF THE NAME the church, Martial observed the groups of peasants who were still talking there. " What do you think of all these peasants ? " he in- quired of his father. " Do they have the appearance of people who are preparing a triumphal reception for their old masters ? " M. de Sairmeuse shrugged his shoulders. He was not the man to renounce an illusion for such a trifle. " They do not know that I am in this post-chaise," he replied. " When they know " Shouts of " Vive Monsieur le Due de Sairmeuse ! " interrupted him. " Do you hear that. Marquis ? " he exclaimed. And pleased by these cries that proved him in the right, he leaned from the carriage-window, waving his hand to the honest Chupin family, who were running after the vehicle with noisy shouts. The old rascal, his wife, and his children, all pos- sessed powerful voices; and it was not strange that the duke believed the whole village was welcoming him. He was convinced of it; and when the berlin stopped before the house of the cure, M. de Sairmeuse was persuaded that the prestige of the nobility was greater than ever. Upon the threshold of the parsonage, Bibiaine, the old housekeeper, was standing. She knew who these guests must be, for the cure's servants always know what is going on. " Monsieur has not yet returned from church," she said, in response to the duke's inquiry ; " but if the gentlemen wish to wait, it will not be long before he comes, for the poor, dear man has not breakfasted yet." " Let us go in," the duke said to his son. THE HONOR OF THE NAME 33 And guided by the housekeeper, they entered a sort of drawing-room, where the table was spread. M. de Sairmeuse took an inventory of the apartment in a single glance. The habits of a house reveal those of its master. This was clean, poor, and bare. The walls were whitewashed ; a dozen chairs composed the entire furniture; upon the table, laid with monastic simplicity, were only tin dishes. This was either the abode of an ambitious man or a saint. " Will these gentlemen take any refreshments? " in- quired Bibiaine. " Upon my word," replied Martial, " I must confess that the drive has whetted my appetite amazingly." " Blessed Jesus ! " exclaimed the old housekeeper, in evident despair. " What am I to do ? I, who have nothing ! That is to say — yes — I have an old hen left in the coop. Give me time to wring its neck, to pick it, and clean it " She paused to Hsten, and they heard a step in the passage. " Ah ! " she exclaimed, " here is Monsieur le Cure now ! " The son of a poor farmer in the environs of Mon- taignac, he owed his Latin and tonsure to the priva- tions of his family. Tall, angular, and solemn, he was as cold and impas- sive as the stones of his church. By what immense efforts of will, at the cost of what torture, had he made himself what he was ? One could form some idea of the terrible restraint to which he had subjected himself by looking at his eyes, which occa- sionally emitted the lightnings of an impassioned soul. Was he old or young? The most subtle observer 34 THE HONOR OF THE NAME would have hesitated to say on seeing this pallid and emaciated face, cut in two by an immense nose — a real eagle's beak — as thin as the edge of a razor. He wore a white cassock, which had been patched and darned in numberless places, but which was a marvel of cleanliness, and which hung about his tall, attenuated body like the sails of a disabled vessel. He was known as the Abbe Midon. At the sight of the two strangers seated in his draw- ing-room, he manifested some slight surprise. The carriage standing before the door had an- nounced the presence of a visitor ; but he had expected to find one of his parishioners. No one had warned him or the sacristan, and he was wondering with whom he had to deal, and what they desired of him. Mechanically, he turned to Bibiaine, but the old servant had taken flight. The duke understood his host's astonishment. " Upon my word. Abbe ! " he said, with the imperti- nent ease of a grand seigneur who makes himself at home everywhere, " we have taken your house by storm, and hold the position, as you see. I am the Due de Sairmeuse, and this is my son, the Marquis." The priest bowed, but he did not seem very greatly impressed by the exalted rank of his guests. " It is a great honor for me," he replied, in a more than reserved tone, " to receive a visit from the former master of this place." He emphasized this word " former " in such a man- ner that it was impossible to doubt his sentiments and his opinions. " Unfortunately," he continued, " you will not find here the comforts to which you are accustomed, and I fear " THE HONOR OF THE NAME 35 " Nonsense ! " interrupted the duke. " An old sol- dier is not fastidious, and what suffices for you, Mon- sieur Abbe, will suffice for us. And rest assured that we shall amply repay you in one way or another for any inconvenience we may cause you." The priest's eye flashed. This want of tact, this disagreeable familiarity, this last insulting remark, kindled the anger of the man concealed beneath the priest. " Besides," added Martial, gayly, " we have been vastly amused by Bibiaine's anxieties, we already know that there is a chicken in the coop " " That is to say there was one. Monsieur le Mar- quis." The old housekeeper, who suddenly reappeared, ex- plained her master's response. She seemed over- whelmed with despair. " Blessed Virgin ! Monsieur, what shall I do ? " she clamored. " The chicken has disappeared. Some- one has certainly stolen it, for the coop is securely closed 1 " " Do not accuse your neighbor hastily," interrupted the cure; " no one has stolen it from us. Bertrande was here this morning to ask alms in the name of her sick daughter. I had no money, and I gave her this fowl that she might make a good bouillon for the sick girl." This explanation changed Bibiaine's consternation to fury. Planting herself in the centre of the room, one hand upon her hip, and gesticulating wildly with the other, she exclaimed, pointing to her master: " That is just the sort of man he is ; he has less sense than a baby ! Any miserable peasant who meets 36 THE HONOR OF THE NAME him can make him believe anything he wishes. Any great falsehood brings tears to his eyes, and then they can do what they like with him. In that way they take the very shoes off his feet and the bread from his mouth. Bertrande's daughter, messieurs, is no more ill than you or I ! " " Enough," said the priest, sternly, " enough." Then, knowing by experience that his voice had not the power to check her flood of reproaches, he took her by the arm and led her out into the passage. M. de Sairmeuse and his son exchanged a glance of consternation. Was this a comedy that had been prepared for their benefit? Evidently not, since their arrival had not been expected. But the priest, whose character had been so plainly revealed by this quarrel with his domestic, was not a man to their taste. At least, he was evidently not the man they had hoped to find — not the auxiliary whose assistance was indispensable to the success of their plans. Yet they did not exchange a word ; they listened. They heard the sound as of a discussion in the pas- sage. The master spoke in low tones, but with an un- mistakable accent of command ; the servant uttered an astonished exclamation. But the listeners could not distinguish a word. Soon the priest re-entered the apartment. " I hope, gentlemen," he said, with a dignity that could not fail to check any attempt at raillery, " that you will excuse this ridiculous scene. The cure of Sairmeuse, thank God ! is not so poor as she says." Neither the duke nor Martial made any response. Even their remarkable assurance was very sensibly THE HONOR OF THE NAME 37 diminished ; and M. de Sairmeuse deemed it advisable to change the subject. This he did, by relating the events which he had just witnessed in Paris, and by insisting that His Majesty, Louis XVin., had been welcomed with enthusiasm and transports of affection. Fortunately, the old housekeeper interrupted this recital. She entered, loaded with china, silver, and bottles, and behind her came a large man in a white apron, bearing three or four covered dishes in his hands. It was the order to go and obtain this repast from the village inn which had drawn from Bibiaine so many exclamations of wonder and dismay in the passage. A moment later the cure and his guests took their places at the table. Had the much-lamented chicken constituted the din- ner the rations would have been " short." This the worthy woman was obliged to confess, on seeing the terrible appetite evinced by M. de Sairmeuse and his son. " One would have sworn that they had eaten noth- ing for a fortnight," she told her friends, the next day. Abbe Midon was not hungry, though it was two o'clock, and he had eaten nothing since the previous evening. The sudden arrival of the former masters of Sair- meuse filled his heart with gloomy forebodings. Their coming, he believed, presaged the greatest misfort- unes. So while he played with his knife and fork, pretend- ing to eat, he was really occupied in watching his guests, and in studying them with all the penetration of a priest, which, by the way, is generally far superior to that of a physician or of a magistrate. 38 THE HONOR OF THE NAME The Due de Sairmeuse was fifty-seven, but looked considerably younger. The storms of his youth, the dissipation of his riper years, the great excesses of every kind in which he had indulged, had not impaired his iron constitution in the least. Of herculean build, he was extremely proud of his strength, and of his hands, which were well-formed, but large, firmly knit and powerful, such hands as rightly belonged to a gentleman whose ancestors had given many a crushing blow with ponderous battle-axe in the crusades. His face revealed his character. He possessed all the graces and all the vices of a courtier. He was, at the same time spirituel and ignorant, sceptical and violently imbued with the prejudices of his class. Though less robust than his father. Martial was a no less distinguished-looking cavalier. It was not strange that women raved over his blue eyes, and the beautiful blond hair which he inherited from his mother. To his father he owed energy, courage, and, it must also be added, perversity. But he was his superior in education and in intellect. If he shared his father's prejudices, he had not adopted them without weighing them carefully. What the father might do in a mo- ment of excitement, the son was capable of doing in cold blood. It was thus that the abhe, with rare sagacity, read the character of his guests. So it was with great sorrow, but without surprise, that he heard the duke advance, on the questions of the day, the impossible ideas shared by nearly all the emigres. THE HONOR OF THE NAME 39 Knowing the condition of the country, and the state of public opinion, the cure endeavored to convince the obstinate man of his mistake; but upon this subject the duke would not permit contradiction, or even rail- lery ; and he was fast losing his temper, when Bibiaine appeared at the parlor door. " Monsieur le Due," said she, " Monsieur Lacheneur and his daughter are without and desire to speak to you." CHAPTER IV.- This name Lacheneur awakened no recollection in the mind of the duke. First, he had never lived at Sairmeuse. And even if he had, what courtier of the ancien regime ever troubled himself about the individual names of the peasants, whom he regarded with such profound indifference. When a grand seigneur addressed these people,, he said : " Halloa ! hi, there 1 friend, my worthy fellow ! " So it was with the air of a man who is making an effort of memory that the Due de Sairmeuse re- peated : " Lacheneur — Monsieur Lacheneur " But Martial, a closer observer than his father, had noticed that the priest's glance wavered at the sound of this name. " Who is this person. Abbe ? " demanded the duke, lightly. " Monsieur Lacheneur," replied the priest, with very evident hesitation, " is the present owner of the Chateau de Sairmeuse." Martial, the precocious diplomat, could not repress 40 THE HONOR OF THE NAME a smile on hearing this response, which he had fore- seen. But the duke bounded from his chair. " Ah ! " he exclaimed, " it is the rascal who has had the impudence — • Let him come in, old woman, let him come in." Bibiaine retired, and the priest's uneasiness in- creased. " Permit me. Monsieur le Due," he said, hastily, " to remark that Monsieur Lacheneur exercises a great in- fluence in this region — to ofiend him would be im- politic " " I understand — you advis6 me to be conciliatory. Such sentiments are purely Jacobin. If His Majesty listens to the advice of such as you, all these sales of confiscated estates will be ratified. Zounds ! our in- terests are the same. If the Revolution has deprived the nobility of their property, it has also impoverished the clergy." " The possessions of a priest are not of this world. Monsieur," said the cure, coldly. M. de Sairmeuse was about to make some imperti- nent response, when M. Lacheneur appeared, followed by his daughter. The wretched man was ghastly pale, great drops of perspiration stood out upon his temples, his restless, haggard eyes revealed his distress of mind. Marie-Anne was as pale as her father, but her atti- tude and the light that burned in her eyes told of in- vincible energy and determination. "Ah, well ! friend," said the duke, " so we are the owner of Sairmeuse, it seems." This was said with such a careless insolence of man- ner that the cure blushed that they should thus treat, in his own house, a man whom he considered his equal. THE HONOR OF THE NAME 41 He rose and offered the visitors chairs. " Will you take a seat, dear Monsieur Lacheneur ? " said he, with a politeness intended as a lesson for the duke ; " and you, also. Mademoiselle, do me the honor " But the father and the daughter both refused the proffered civility with a motion of the head. " Monsieur le Due," continued Lacheneur, " I am an old servant of your house " "Ah! indeed!" " Mademoiselle Armande, your aunt, accbrded my poor mother the honor of acting as my god- mother " "Ah, yes," interrupted the duke. " I remember you now. Our family has shown great goodness to you and yours. And it was to prove your gratitude, prob- ably, that you made haste to purchase our estate ! " The former ploughboy was of humble origin, but his heart and his character had developed with his fort- unes ; he understood his own worth. Much as he was disliked, and even detested, by his neighbors, everyone respected him. And here was a man who treated him with undis- guised scorn. Why ? By what right ? Indignant at the outrage, he made a movement as if to retire. No one, save his daughter, knew the truth ; he had only to keep silence and Sairmeuse remained his. Yes, he had still the power to keep Sairmeuse, and he knew it, for he did not share the fears of the igno- rant rustics. He was too well informed not to be able to distinguish between the hopes of the emigres and the possible. He knew that an abyss separated the dream from the reality. 42 THE HONOR OF THE NAME A beseeching word uttered in a low tone by his daughter, made him turn again to the duke. " If I purchased Sairmeuse," he answered, in a voice husky with emotion, " it was in obedience to the com- I mand of your dying aunt, and with the money which she gave me for that purpose. If you see me here, it is only because I come to restore to you the deposit con- fided to my keeping." Anyone not belonging to that class of spoiled fools which surround a throne would have been deeply touched. But the duke thought this grand act of honesty and of generosity the most simple and natural thing in the world. " That is very well, so far as the principal is con- cerned," said he. " Let us speak now of the interest. Sairmeuse, if I remember rightly, yielded an average income of one thousand louis per year. These reve- nues, well invested, should have amounted to a very considerable amount. Where is this ? " This claim, thus advanced and at such a moment, was so outrageous, that Martial, disgusted, made a sign to his father, which the latter did not see. But the cure hoping to recall the extortioner to some- thing like a sense of shame, exclaimed : " Monsieur le Due ! Oh, Monsieur le Due ! " Lacheneur shrugged his shoulders with an air of resignation. " The income I have used for my own living ex- penses, and in educating my children ; but most of it has been expended in improving the estate, which to- day yields an income twice as large as in former years." " That is to say, for twenty years, Monsieur Lache- THE HONOR OF THE NAME 43 neur has played the part of lord of the manor. A de- lightful comedy. You are rich now, I suppose." " I possess nothing. But I hope you will allow me to take ten thousand francs, which your aunt gave to me." " Ah 1 she gave you ten thousand francs ? And when?" " On the same evening that she gave me the eighty thousand francs intended for the purchase of the es- tate." " Perfect ! What proof can you furnish that she gave you this sum ? " Lacheneur stood motionless and speechless. He tried to reply, but he could not. If he opened his lips it would only be to pour forth a torrent of menaces, in- sults, and invectives. Marie-Anne stepped quickly forward. " The proof. Monsieur," said she, in a clear, ringing voice, " is the word of this man, who, of his own free will, comes to return to you — ^to give you a fortune." As she sprang forward her beautiful dark hair es- caped from its confinement, the rich blood crimsoned her cheeks, her dark eyes flashed brilliantly, and sor- row, anger, horror at the humiliation, imparted a sub- lime expression to her face. She was so beautiful that Martial regarded her with wonder. " Lovely ! " he murmured, in English ; " beautiful as an angel ! " These words, which she understood, abashed Marie- Anne. But she had said enough ; her father felt that he was avenged. He drew from his pocket a roll of papers, and throwing them upon the table : 44 THE HONOR OF THE NAME " Here are your titles," he said, addressing the duke in a tone full of implacable hatred. " Keep the legacy that your aunt gave me, I wish nothing of yours. I shall never set foot in Sairmeuse again. Penniless I entered it, penniless I will leave it ! " He quitted the room with head proudly erect, and when they were outside, he said but one word to his daughter : " Well ! " " You have done your duty," she replied ; " it is those who have not done it, who are to be pitied ! " She had no opportunity to say more. Martial came running after them, anxious for another chance of see- ing this young girl whose beauty had made such an im- pression upon him. " I hastened after you," he said, addressing Marie- Anne, rather than M. Lacheneur, " to reassure you. All this will be arranged. Mademoiselle. Eyes so beautiful as yours should never know tears. I will be your advocate with my father " " Mademoiselle Lacheneur has no need of an advo- cate ! " a harsh voice interrupted. Martial turned, and saw the young man, who, that morning, went to warn M. Lacheneur of the duke's ar- rival. " I am the Marquis de Sairmeuse," he said, inso- lently. " And I," said the other, quietly, " am Maurice d'Es- corval." They surveyed each other for a moment ; each ex- pecting, perhaps, an insult from the other. Instinc- tively, they felt that they were to be enemies ; and the bitterest animosity spoke in the glances they ex- changed. Perhaps they felt a presentiment that they " The proof, Monsieur, is the word of this man, who of his own free will comes to return to you — to give you a fortune.'' THE HONOR OF THE NAME 45 were to be champions of two different principles, as well as rivals. Martial, remembering his father, yielded. " We shall meet again. Monsieur d'Escorval," he said, as he retired. At this threat, Maurice shrugged his shoulders, and said : " You had better not desire it." CHAPTER V The abode of the Baron d'Escorval, that brick struct- ure with stone trimmings which was visible from the superb avenue leading to Sairmeuse, was small and unpretentious. Its chief attraction was a pretty lawn that extended to the banks of the Oiselle, and a small but beautifully shaded park. It was known as the Chateau d'Escorval, but that appellation was gross flattery. Any petty manufact- urer who had amassed a small fortune would have de- sired a larger, handsomer, and more imposing estab- lishment. M. d'Escorval — and it will be an eternal honor to him in history — ^was not rich. Although he had been intrusted with several of those missions from which generals and diplomats often re- turn laden with millions, M. d'Escorval's worldly pos- sessions consisted only of the little patrimony be- queathed him by his father : a property which yielded an income of from twenty to twenty-five thousand francs a year. This mo