That was an easy task.
It was necessary to impose upon the credulity of the Marquis de
Courtornieu. This was a difficult task, yet he succeeded.
But poor Chanlouineau could not conceive of such contradictions, and he
was consumed with anxiety.
Willingly would he have consented to be put to the torture before
receiving his death-blow, if he might have been allowed to follow
Marie-Anne in her undertakings.
What was she doing? How could he ascertain?
A dozen times during the evening he called his guards, under every
possible pretext, and tried to compel them to talk with him. He knew
very well that these men could be no better informed on the subject than
he was himself, that he could place no confidence in their reports--but
that made no difference.
The drums beat for the evening roll-call, then for the extinguishment of
lights--after that, silence.
Standing at the window of his cell, Chanlouineau concentrated all his
faculties in a superhuman effort of attention.
It seemed to him if the baron regained his liberty, he would be warned
of it by some sign.
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