CHAPTER IV.
A FINANCIAL TRANSACTION.
Daumon was expecting a visit from the young man, and had been waiting for him with the cool complacency of a bird-catcher, who, having arranged all his lines and snares, stands with folded arms until his feathered victims fall into his net.

The line that he had displayed before the young man's eyes was the sight of liberty.

Daumon had emissaries everywhere, and knew perfectly well what was going on at the Chateau de Champdoce, and could have repeated the exact words made use of by the Duke in his last conversation with his son, and was aware of the leave of liberty that had been granted to Norbert, and was as certain as possible that this small concession would only hasten the rebellion of the young Marquis.
He often took his evening stroll in the direction of Champdoce, and, pipe in mouth, would meditate over his schemes.

Pausing on the brow of a hill that overlooked the Chateau, he would shake his fist, and mutter,-- "He will come; ah, yes, he must come to me!" And he was in the right, for, after a week spent in indecision, Norbert knocked at the door of his father's bitterest enemy.

Daumon, concealed behind the window curtain, had watched his approach, and it was with the same air of deference that he had welcomed the Marquis, as he took care to call him; but he affected to be so overcome by the honor of this visit that he could only falter out,-- "Marquis, I am your most humble servant." And Norbert, who had expected a very warm greeting, was much disconcerted.