CHAPTER XXXII
Alone in his cell, Chanlouineau, after Marie-Anne's departure, abandoned
himself to the most frightful despair.
He had just given more than life to the woman he loved so fervently.
For had he not, in the hope of obtaining an interview with her, perilled
his honor by simulating the most ignoble fear? While doing so, he
thought only of the success of his ruse. But now he knew only too well
what those who had witnessed his apparent weakness would say of him.
"This Chanlouineau is only a miserable coward after all," he fancied he
could hear them saying among themselves. "We have seen him on his knees,
begging for mercy, and promising to betray his accomplices."
The thought that his memory would be tarnished with charges of cowardice
and treason drove him nearly mad.
He actually longed for death, since it would give him an opportunity to
retrieve his honor.
"They shall see, then," he cried, wrathfully, "if I turn pale and
tremble before the soldiers."
He was in this state of mind when the door opened to admit the Marquis
de Courtornieu, who, after seeing Mlle.
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