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<h2> CHAPTER XLIX </h2>
<p>Time gradually heals all wounds, and in less than a year it was difficult
to discern any trace of the fierce whirlwind of passion which had
devastated the peaceful valley of the Oiselle.</p>
<p>What remained to attest the reality of all these events, which, though
they were so recent, had already been relegated to the domain of the
legendary?</p>
<p>A charred ruin on the Reche.</p>
<p>A grave in the cemetery, upon which was inscribed:</p>
<p>"Marie-Anne Lacheneur, died at the age of twenty. Pray for her!"</p>
<p>Only a few, the oldest men and the politicians of the village, forgot
their solicitude in regard to the crops to remember this episode.</p>
<p>Sometimes, during the long winter evenings, when they had gathered at the
Boeuf Couronne, they laid down their greasy cards and gravely discussed
the events of the past years.</p>
<p>They never failed to remark that almost all the actors in that bloody
drama at Montaignac had, in common parlance, "come to a bad end."</p>
<p>Victors and vanquished seemed to be pursued by the same inexorable
fatality.</p>
<p>Look at the names already upon the fatal list!</p>
<p>Lacheneur, beheaded.</p>
<p>Chanlouineau, shot.</p>
<p>Marie-Anne, poisoned.</p>
<p>Chupin, the traitor, assassinated.</p>
<p>The Marquis de Courtornieu lived, or rather survived, but death would have
seemed a mercy in comparison with such total annihilation of intelligence.
He had fallen below the level of the brute, which is, at least, endowed
with instinct. Since the departure of his daughter he had been cared for
by two servants, who did not allow him to give them much trouble, and when
they desired to go out they shut him up, not in his chamber, but in the
cellar, to prevent his ravings and shrieks from being heard from without.</p>
<p>If people supposed for awhile that the Sairmeuse would escape the fate of
the others, they were mistaken. It was not long before the curse fell upon
them.</p>
<p>One fine morning in the month of December, the duke left the chateau to
take part in a wolf-hunt in the neighborhood.</p>
<p>At nightfall, his horse returned, panting, covered with foam, and
riderless.</p>
<p>What had become of its master?</p>
<p>A search was instituted at once, and all night long twenty men, bearing
torches, wandered through the woods, shouting and calling at the top of
their voices.</p>
<p>Five days went by, and the search for the missing man was almost
abandoned, when a shepherd lad, pale with fear, came to the chateau one
morning to tell them that he had discovered, at the base of a precipice,
the bloody and mangled body of the Duc de Sairmeuse.</p>
<p>It seemed strange that such an excellent rider should have met with such a
fate. There might have been some doubt as to its being an accident, had it
not been for the explanation given by the grooms.</p>
<p>"The duke was riding an exceedingly vicious beast," said these men. "She
was always taking fright and shying at everything."</p>
<p>The following week Jean Lacheneur left the neighborhood.</p>
<p>The conduct of this singular man had caused much comment. When Marie-Anne
died, he at first refused his inheritance.</p>
<p>"I wish nothing that came to her through Chanlouineau!" he said
everywhere, thus calumniating the memory of his sister as he had
calumniated her when alive.</p>
<p>Then, after a short absence, and without any apparent reason, he suddenly
changed his mind.</p>
<p>He not only accepted the property, but made all possible haste to obtain
possession of it. He made many excuses; and, if one might believe him, he
was not acting in his own interest, but merely conforming to the wishes of
his deceased sister; and he declared that not a penny would go into his
pockets.</p>
<p>This much is certain, as soon as he obtained legal possession of the
estate, he sold all the property, troubling himself but little in regard
to the price he received, provided the purchasers paid cash.</p>
<p>He reserved only the furniture of the sumptuously adorned chamber at the
Borderie. These articles he burned.</p>
<p>This strange act was the talk of the neighborhood.</p>
<p>"The poor young man has lost his reason!" was the almost universal
opinion.</p>
<p>And those who doubted it, doubted it no longer when it became known that
Jean Lacheneur had formed an engagement with a company of strolling
players who stopped at Montaignac for a few days.</p>
<p>But the young man had not wanted for good advice and kind friends. M.
d'Escorval and the abbe had exerted all their eloquence to induce him to
return to Paris, and complete his studies; but in vain.</p>
<p>The necessity for concealment no longer existed, either in the case of the
baron or the priest.</p>
<p>Thanks to Martial de Sairmeuse they were now installed, the one in the
presbytery, the other at Escorval, as in days gone by.</p>
<p>Acquitted at his new trial, restored to the possession of his property,
reminded of his frightful fall only by a very slight lameness, the baron
would have deemed himself a fortunate man, had it not been for his great
anxiety on his son's account.</p>
<p>Poor Maurice! his heart was broken by the sound of the clods of earth
falling upon Marie-Anne's coffin; and his very life now seemed dependent
upon the hope of finding his child.</p>
<p>Assured of the powerful assistance of Abbe Midon, he had confessed all to
his father, and confided his secret to Corporal Bavois, who was an honored
guest at Escorval; and these devoted friends had promised him all possible
aid.</p>
<p>The task was very difficult, however, and certain resolutions on the part
of Maurice greatly diminished the chance of success.</p>
<p>Unlike Jean, he was determined to guard religiously the honor of the dead;
and he had made <i>his</i> friends promise that Marie-Anne's name should
not be mentioned in prosecuting the search.</p>
<p>"We shall succeed all the same," said the abbe, kindly; "with time and
patience any mystery can be solved."</p>
<p>He divided the department into a certain number of districts; then one of
the little band went each day from house to house questioning the inmates,
but not without extreme caution, for fear of arousing suspicion, for a
peasant becomes intractable at once if his suspicions are aroused.</p>
<p>But the weeks went by, and the quest was fruitless. Maurice was deeply
discouraged.</p>
<p>"My child died on coming into the world," he said, again and again.</p>
<p>But the abbe reassured him.</p>
<p>"I am morally certain that such was not the case," he replied. "I know, by
Marie-Anne's absence, the date of her child's birth. I saw her after her
recovery; she was comparatively gay and smiling. Draw your own
conclusions."</p>
<p>"And yet there is not a nook or corner for miles around which we have not
explored."</p>
<p>"True; but we must extend the circle of our investigations."</p>
<p>The priest, now, was only striving to gain time, knowing full well that it
is the sovereign balm for all sorrows.</p>
<p>His confidence, which had been very great at first, had been sensibly
diminished by the responses of an old woman, who passed for one of the
greatest gossips in the community.</p>
<p>Adroitly interrogated, the worthy dame replied that she knew nothing of
such a child, but that there must be one in the neighborhood, since it was
the third time she had been questioned on the subject.</p>
<p>Intense as was his surprise, the abbe succeeded in hiding it.</p>
<p>He set the old gossip to talking, and after a two hours' conversation, he
arrived at the conclusion that two persons besides Maurice were searching
for Marie-Anne's child.</p>
<p>Why, with what aim, and who these persons could be the abbe was unable to
ascertain.</p>
<p>"Ah! rascals have their uses after all," he thought. "If we only had a man
like Chupin to set upon the track!"</p>
<p>But the old poacher was dead, and his eldest son—the one who knew
Blanche de Courtornieu's secret—was in Paris.</p>
<p>Only the widow and the second son remained in Sairmeuse.</p>
<p>They had not, as yet, succeeded in discovering the twenty thousand francs,
but the fever for gold was burning in their veins, and they persisted in
their search. From morning until night the mother and son toiled on, until
the earth around their hut had been explored to the depth of six feet.</p>
<p>A word dropped by a peasant one day put an end to these researches.</p>
<p>"Really, my boy," he said, addressing young Chupin, "I did not suppose you
were such a fool as to persist in hunting birds' nests after the birds
have flown. Your brother, who is in Paris, can undoubtedly tell you where
the treasure was concealed."</p>
<p>The younger Chupin uttered the fierce roar of a wild beast.</p>
<p>"Holy Virgin! you are right!" he exclaimed. "Wait until I get money enough
to take me to Paris, and we will see."</p>
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