CHAPTER XLIX
Time gradually heals all wounds, and in less than a year it wasdifficult to discern any trace of the fierce whirlwind of passion whichhad devastated the peaceful valley of the Oiselle.
What remained to attest the reality of all these events, which, thoughthey were so recent, had already been relegated to the domain of thelegendary?
A charred ruin on the Reche.
A grave in the cemetery, upon which was inscribed:
"Marie-Anne Lacheneur, died at the age of twenty. Pray for her!"
Only a few, the oldest men and the politicians of the village, forgottheir solicitude in regard to the crops to remember this episode.
Sometimes, during the long winter evenings, when they had gatheredat the Boeuf Couronne, they laid down their greasy cards and gravelydiscussed the events of the past years.
They never failed to remark that almost all the actors in that bloodydrama at Montaignac had, in common parlance, "come to a bad end."
Victors and vanquished seemed to be pursued by the same inexorablefatality.
Look at the names already upon the fatal list!
Lacheneur, beheaded.
Chanlouineau, shot.
Marie-Anne, poisoned.
Chupin, the traitor, assassinated.
The Marquis de Courtornieu lived, or rather survived, but death wouldhave seemed a mercy in comparison with such total annihilation ofintelligence. He had fallen below the level of the brute, which is, atleast, endowed with instinct. Since the departure of his daughter he hadbeen cared for by two servants, who did not allow him to give them muchtrouble, and when they desired to go out they shut him up, not in hischamber, but in the cellar, to prevent his ravings and shrieks frombeing heard from without.
If people supposed for awhile that the Sairmeuse would escape the fateof the others, they were mistaken. It was not long before the curse fellupon them.
One fine morning in the month of December, the duke left the chateau totake part in a wolf-hunt in the neighborhood.
At nightfall, his horse returned, panting, covered with foam, andriderless.
What had become of its master?
A search was instituted at once, and all night long twenty men, bearingtorches, wandered through the woods, shouting and calling at the top oftheir voices.
Five days went by, and the search for the missing man was almostabandoned, when a shepherd lad, pale with fear, came to the chateau onemorning to tell them that he had discovered, at the base of a precipice,the bloody and mangled body of the Duc de Sairmeuse.
It seemed strange that such an excellent rider should have met with sucha fate. There might have been some doubt as to its being an accident,had it not been for the explanation given by the grooms.
"The duke was riding an exceedingly vicious beast," said these men. "Shewas always taking fright and shying at everything."
The following week Jean Lacheneur left the neighborhood.
The conduct of this singular man had caused much comment. WhenMarie-Anne died, he at first refused his inheritance.
"I wish nothing that came to her through Chanlouineau!" he saideverywhere, thus calumniating the memory of his sister as he hadcalumniated her when alive.
Then, after a short absence, and without any apparent reason, hesuddenly changed his mind.
He not only accepted the property, but made all possible haste to obtainpossession of it. He made many excuses; and, if one might believe him,he was not acting in his own interest, but merely conforming to thewishes of his deceased sister; and he declared that not a penny would gointo his pockets.
This much is certain, as soon as he obtained legal possession of theestate, he sold all the property, troubling himself but little in regardto the price he received, provided the purchasers paid cash.
He reserved only the furniture of the sumptuously adorned chamber at theBorderie. These articles he burned.
This strange act was the talk of the neighborhood.
"The poor young man has lost his reason!" was the almost universalopinion.
And those who doubted it, doubted it no longer when it became knownthat Jean Lacheneur had formed an engagement with a company of strollingplayers who stopped at Montaignac for a few days.
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 toreturn to Paris, and complete his studies; but in vain.
The necessity for concealment no longer existed, either in the case ofthe baron or the priest.
Thanks to Martial de Sairmeuse they were now installed, the one in thepresbytery, the other at Escorval, as in days gone by.
Acquitted at his new trial, restored to the possession of his property,reminded of his frightful fall only by a very slight lameness, the baronwould have deemed himself a fortunate man, had it not been for his greatanxiety on his son's account.
Poor Maurice! his heart was broken by the sound of the clods of earthfalling upon Marie-Anne's coffin; and his very life now seemed dependentupon the hope of finding his child.
Assured of the powerful assistance of Abbe Midon, he had confessed allto his father, and confided his secret to Corporal Bavois, who was anhonored guest at Escorval; and these devoted friends had promised himall possible aid.
The task was very difficult, however, and certain resolutions on thepart of Maurice greatly diminished the chance of success.
Unlike Jean, he was determined to guard religiously the honor of thedead; and he had made _his_ friends promise that Marie-Anne's nameshould not be mentioned in prosecuting the search.
"We shall succeed all the same," said the abbe, kindly; "with time andpatience any mystery can be solved."
He divided the department into a certain number of districts; then oneof the little band went each day from house to house questioningthe inmates, but not without extreme caution, for fear of arousingsuspicion, for a peasant becomes intractable at once if his suspicionsare aroused.
But the weeks went by, and the quest was fruitless. Maurice was deeplydiscouraged.
"My child died on coming into the world," he said, again and again.
But the abbe reassured him.
"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 afterher recovery; she was comparatively gay and smiling. Draw your ownconclusions."
"And yet there is not a nook or corner for miles around which we havenot explored."
"True; but we must extend the circle of our investigations."
The priest, now, was only striving to gain time, knowing full well thatit is the sovereign balm for all sorrows.
His confidence, which had been very great at first, had been sensiblydiminished by the responses of an old woman, who passed for one of thegreatest gossips in the community.
Adroitly interrogated, the worthy dame replied that she knew nothing ofsuch a child, but that there must be one in the neighborhood, since itwas the third time she had been questioned on the subject.
Intense as was his surprise, the abbe succeeded in hiding it.
He set the old gossip to talking, and after a two hours' conversation,he arrived at the conclusion that two persons besides Maurice weresearching for Marie-Anne's child.
Why, with what aim, and who these persons could be the abbe was unableto ascertain.
"Ah! rascals have their uses after all," he thought. "If we only had aman like Chupin to set upon the track!"
But the old poacher was dead, and his eldest son--the one who knewBlanche de Courtornieu's secret--was in Paris.
Only the widow and the second son remained in Sairmeuse.
They had not, as yet, succeeded in discovering the twenty thousandfrancs, but the fever for gold was burning in their veins, and theypersisted in their search. From morning until night the mother and sontoiled on, until the earth around their hut had been explored to thedepth of six feet.
A word dropped by a peasant one
day put an end to these researches.
"Really, my boy," he said, addressing young Chupin, "I did not supposeyou were such a fool as to persist in hunting birds' nests after thebirds have flown. Your brother, who is in Paris, can undoubtedly tellyou where the treasure was concealed."
The younger Chupin uttered the fierce roar of a wild beast.
"Holy Virgin! you are right!" he exclaimed. "Wait until I get moneyenough to take me to Paris, and we will see."