Nor was this all.
After brutally repulsing Blanche, his newly wedded wife, who attempted
to detain him, Martial again seized Jean Lacheneur's arm.
"Now," said he, "follow me!"
Jean followed him still without a word.
They again crossed the grand hall, but instead of going to the vestibule
Martial took a candle that was burning upon a side table, and opened a
little door leading to the private staircase.
"Where are you taking me?" inquired Jean Lacheneur.
Martial, who had already ascended two or three steps, turned.
"Are you afraid?" he asked.
The other shrugged his shoulders, and coldly replied:
"If you put it in that way, let us go on."
They entered the room which Martial had occupied since taking possession
of the chateau. It was the same room that had once belonged to Jean
Lacheneur; and nothing had been changed. He recognized the brightly
flowered curtains, the figures on the carpet, and even an old arm-chair
where he had read many a novel in secret.
Martial hastened to a small writing-desk, and took from it a paper which
he slipped into his pocket.
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