“He came from Paris expressly to bring it to me,” replied Michu.     

       “People are talking all round the neighborhood of this journey of his; some say he is in disgrace and has to retire from office; others that he wants to see things for himself down here. But anyway, why does he come, like the First Consul, without giving warning? Did you know he was coming?”      

       “I am not on such terms with him as to be in his confidence.”      

       “Then you have not seen him?”      

       “I did not know he was here till I got back from my rounds in the forest,”        said Michu, reloading his gun.     

       “He has sent to Arcis for Monsieur Grevin,” said Violette; “they are scheming something.”      

       “If you are going round by Cinq-Cygne, take me up behind you,” said the bailiff. “I’m going there.”      

       Violette was too timid to have a man of Michu’s strength on his crupper, and he spurred his beast. Judas slung his gun over his shoulder and walked rapidly up the avenue.     

       “Who can it be that Michu is angry with?” said Marthe to her mother.     

       “Ever since he heard of Monsieur Malin’s arrival he has been gloomy,”        replied the old woman. “But it is getting damp here, let us go in.”      

       After the two women had settled themselves in the chimney corner they heard Couraut’s bark.     

       “There’s my husband returning!” cried Marthe.     

       Michu passed up the stairs; his wife, uneasy, followed him to their bedroom.     

       “See if any one is about,” he said to her, in a voice of some emotion.     

       “No one,” she replied. “Marianne is in the field with the cow, and Gaucher—”      

       “Where is Gaucher?” he asked.     

       “I don’t know.”      

       “I distrust that little scamp. Go up in the garret, look in the hay-loft, look everywhere for him.”      

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