They are yours--I give them to you!" By this absurd pretence of a gift, M.de Sairmeuse thought to add the finishing touch to his popularity.

A great mistake! It simply assured the popularity of Chupin, the organizer of the farce.
And while the duke was promenading through the crowd with a proud and self-satisfied air, the peasants were secretly laughing and jeering at him.
And if they promptly took sides with him against Chanlouineau, it was only because his gift was still fresh in their minds; except for this---- But the duke had not time to think much about this encounter, which produced a vivid impression upon his son.
One of his former companions in exile, the Marquis de Courtornieu, whom he had informed of his arrival, hastened to welcome him, accompanied by his daughter, Mlle.

Blanche.
Martial could do no less than offer his arm to the daughter of his father's friend; and they took a leisurely promenade in the shade of the lofty trees, while the duke renewed his acquaintance with all the nobility of the neighborhood.
There was not a single nobleman who did not hasten to press the hand of the Duc de Sairmeuse.

First, he possessed, it was said, a property of more than twenty millions in England.

Then, he was the friend of the King, and each neighbor had some favor to ask for himself, for his relatives, or for his friends.
Poor king! He should have had entire France to divide like a cake between these cormorants, whose voracious appetites it was impossible to satisfy.
That evening, after a grand banquet at the Chateau de Courtornieu, the duke slept in the Chateau de Sairmeuse, in the room which had been occupied by Lacheneur, "like Louis XVIII.," he laughingly said, "in the chamber of Bonaparte." He was gay, chatty, and full of confidence in the future.
"Ah! it is good to be in one's own house!" he remarked to his son again and again.
But Martial responded only mechanically.