Part 111 (2/2)

”If I seem so to you, sir,” he replied, ”it is only because you are ignorant of Martial's wild pa.s.sion for Marie-Anne. He wished to make her his mistress. She had the audacity to refuse this honor; that was a crime for which she must be punished. When the Marquis de Sairmeuse became convinced that Lacheneur's daughter would never be his, he poisoned her that she might not belong to another.”

Any attempt to convince Jean of the folly of his accusation would have been vain at that moment. No proofs would have convinced him. He would have closed his eyes to all evidence.

”To-morrow, when he is more calm, I will reason with him,” thought the abbe; then, turning to Jean, he said:

”We cannot allow the body of the poor girl to remain here upon the floor. a.s.sist me, and we will place it upon the bed.”

Jean trembled from head to foot, and his hesitation was apparent.

”Very well!” he said, at last, after a severe struggle.

No one had ever slept upon this bed which poor Chanlouineau had destined for Marie-Anne.

”It shall be for her,” he said to himself, ”or for no one.”

And it was Marie-Anne who rested there first--dead.

When this sad task was accomplished, he threw himself into the same arm-chair in which Marie-Anne had breathed her last, and with his face buried in his hands, and his elbows supported upon his knees, he sat there as silent and motionless as the statues of sorrow placed above the last resting-places of the dead.

The abbe knelt at the head of the bed and began the recital of the prayers for the dead, entreating G.o.d to grant peace and happiness in heaven to her who had suffered so much upon earth.

But he prayed only with his lips. In spite of his efforts, his mind would persist in wandering.

He was striving to solve the mystery that enshrouded Marie-Anne's death.

Had she been murdered? Could it be that she had committed suicide?

This explanation recurred to him, but he could not believe it.

But, on the other hand, how could her death possibly be the result of a crime?

He had carefully examined the room, and he had discovered nothing that betrayed the presence of a stranger.

All that he could prove was, that his vial of a.r.s.enic was empty, and that Marie-Anne had been poisoned by the bouillon, a few drops of which were left in the bowl that was standing upon the mantel.

”When daylight comes,” thought the abbe, ”I will look outside.”

When morning broke, he went into the garden, and made a careful examination of the premises.

At first he saw nothing that gave him the least clew, and was about to abandon the investigations, when, upon entering the little grove, he saw in the distance a large dark stain upon the gra.s.s. He went nearer--it was blood!

Much excited, he summoned Jean, to inform him of the discovery.

”Someone has been a.s.sa.s.sinated here,” said Lacheneur; ”and it happened last night, for the blood has not had time to dry.”

”The victim lost a great deal of blood,” the priest remarked; ”it might be possible to discover who he was by following up these stains.”

”I am going to try,” responded Jean. ”Go back to the house, sir; I will soon return.”

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