CHAPTER XXXVII.
THE SAVIOR OF FRANCE.
While these terrible events were going forward in the attic of MadameDenis's house, Bathilde, uneasy at seeing her neighbor's window so longshut, had opened hers, and the first thing she saw, was the dappled grayhorse attached to the shutter; but as she had not seen the captain goin, she thought that the steed was for Raoul, and that reflectionimmediately recalled both her former and present fears.
Bathilde consequently remained at the window, looking on all sides, andtrying to read in the physiognomy of every passer-by whether thatindividual was an actor in the mysterious drama which was preparing, andin which she instinctively understood that Raoul was to play the chiefpart. She remained, then, with a beating heart, her neck stretched out,and her eyes wandering hither and thither, when all at once her unquietglances concentrated on a point. The young girl gave a cry of joy, forshe saw Buvat coming round the corner from the Rue Montmartre. Indeed,it was the worthy caligraphist in person, who, looking behind him fromtime to time--as if he feared pursuit--advanced with his canehorizontal, and at as swift a run as his little legs permitted.
While he enters, and embraces his ward, let us look back and relate thecauses of that absence, which, doubtless, caused as much uneasiness toour readers as to Nanette and Bathilde.
It will be remembered how Buvat--driven by fear of torture to therevelation of the conspiracy--had been forced by Dubois to make everyday, at his house, a copy of the documents which the pretended Prince deListhnay had given him. It was thus that the minister of the regent hadsuccessively learned all the projects of the conspirators, which he haddefeated by the arrest of Marshal Villeroy, and by the convocation ofparliament.
Buvat had been at work as usual, but about four o'clock, as he rose, andtook his hat in one hand and his cane in the other, Dubois came in andtook him into a little room above that where he had been working, and,having arrived there, asked him what he thought of the apartment.Flattered by this deference of the prime minister's to his judgment,Buvat hastened to reply that he thought it very agreeable.
"So much the better," answered Dubois, "and I am very glad that it is toyour taste, for it is yours."
"Mine!" cried Buvat, astonished.
"Certainly; is it astonishing that I should wish to have under my hand,or rather, under my eyes, a personage as important as yourself?"
"But," asked Buvat, "am I then going to live in the Palais Royal?"
"For some days, at least," answered Dubois.
"Monseigneur, let me at all events inform Bathilde."
"That is just the thing. Bathilde must not be informed."
THE BODY OF THE CAPTAIN LAY STRETCHED ON THE FLOOR,SWIMMING IN A SEA OF BLOOD.--Page 408.]
"But you will permit that the first time I go out--"
"As long as you remain here you will not go out."
"But," cried Buvat, with terror, "but I am then a prisoner?"
"A State prisoner, as you have said, my dear Buvat: but calm yourself;your captivity will not be long, and while it lasts we will take of youall the care which is the due of the savior of France, for you havesaved France, Monsieur Buvat."
"I have saved France, and here I am a prisoner under bolts and bars!"
"And where on earth do you see bolts and bars, my dear Buvat?" saidDubois, laughing; "the door shuts with a latch, and has not even a lock:as to the window, yours looks on the gardens of the Palais Royal, andhas not even a lattice to intercept the view, a superb view--you arelodged here like the regent himself."
"Oh, my little room! Oh, my terrace!" cried Buvat, letting himself sinkexhausted on a seat.
Dubois, who had no other consolation to bestow upon Buvat, went out, andplaced a sentinel at the door. The explanation of this step is easy.Dubois feared that, seeing the arrest of Villeroy, they would suspectfrom whence the information came, and would question Buvat, and that hewould confess all. This confession would, doubtless, have arrested theconspirators in the midst of their schemes, which, on the contrary,Dubois, informed beforehand of all their plans, wished to see carried toa point, so that in crushing one monster rebellion he might put an endto all lesser ones.
Toward eight o'clock, as daylight began to fade, Buvat heard a greatnoise at his door, and a sort of metallic clashing, which did not tendto reassure him. He had heard plenty of lamentable stories of Stateprisoners who had been assassinated in their prisons, and he rosetrembling and ran to the window. The court and gardens of the PalaisRoyal were full of people, the galleries began to be lighted up, thewhole scene was full of gayety and light. He heaved a profound sigh,thinking perhaps that he might be bidding a last adieu to that life andanimation. At that instant the door was opened; Buvat turned roundshuddering, and saw two tall footmen in red livery bringing in awell-supplied table. The metallic noise which had so much disturbed himhad been the clattering of the silver plates and dishes.
Buvat's first impression was one of thankfulness to Heaven, that soimminent a danger as that which he had feared had changed into such asatisfactory event. But immediately the idea struck him that the deadlyintentions held toward him were still the same, and that only the modeof their execution were changed--instead of being assassinated, likeJeansans-Peur, or the Duc de Guise, he was going to be poisoned, likethe Dauphin, or the Duc de Burgundy. He threw a rapid glance on the twofootmen, and thought he remarked something somber which denoted theagents of a secret vengeance. From this instant his determination wastaken, and, in spite of the scent of the dishes, which appeared to himan additional proof, he refused all sustenance, saying majestically thathe was neither hungry nor thirsty.
The footmen looked at each other knowingly. They were two sharp fellows,and had understood Buvat's character at a glance, and not understandinga man not being hungry when before a pheasant stuffed with truffles, ornot thirsty before a bottle of Chambertin, had penetrated the prisoner'sfears pretty quickly. They exchanged a few words in a low tone, and theboldest of the two, seeing that there was a means of drawing some profitfrom the circumstances, advanced toward Buvat, who recoiled before himas far as the room would allow.
"Monsieur," said he, in a reassuring tone, "we understand your fears,and, as we are honest servants, we will show you that we are incapableof lending ourselves to the dealings which you suspect; consequently,during the whole time that you remain here, my comrade and I, each inour turn, will taste all the dishes which are brought you, and all thewines which are sent in, happy if by our devotion we can restore yourtranquillity."
"Monsieur," answered Buvat, ashamed that his secret sentiments had beendiscovered thus, "monsieur, you are very polite, but in truth I amneither hungry nor thirsty."
"Never mind, monsieur," said the man, "as my comrade and myself desirenot to leave the smallest doubt on your mind, we will execute what wehave offered. Comtois, my friend," continued the fellow, sitting down inthe place which had been intended for Buvat, "do me the favor to help meto a little of that soup, a wing of that pullet in rice, a glass of thatChambertin, there--to your health, monsieur."
"Monsieur," said Buvat, opening his eyes, and looking at the footman whowas dining so impudently in his stead, "monsieur, it is I who am yourservant, and I should wish to know your name, in order to preserve it inmy memory by the side of that of the good jailer who gave to Comtel'Ancien a similar proof of devotion to that which you give me."
"Monsieur," answered the footman modestly, "I am called Bourguignon, andhere is my comrade Comtois, whose turn for devotion will come to-morrow,and who, when the moment shall have arrived, will not be behindhand.Comtois, my friend, a slice of that pheasant, and a glass of champagne.Do you not see that, in order to reassure monsieur completely, I musttaste everything; it is a severe test, I know, but where would be themerit of being an honest man if it did not sometimes bring trials likethe present? To your health, Monsieur Buvat."
"Heaven preserve yours, Monsieur Bourguignon."
"Now, Comtois, hand me the dessert, so that I may leave no doub
t onMonsieur Buvat's mind."
"Monsieur Bourguignon, I beg you to believe that, if I had any, they arecompletely dissipated."
"No, monsieur, no, I beg your pardon, you still have some. Comtois, myfriend, now the hot coffee, very hot; I wish to drink it exactly asmonsieur would have done, and I presume it is thus that monsieur likesit."
"Boiling, monsieur, boiling," answered Buvat, bowing.
"Oh!" said Bourguignon, sipping his coffee, and raising his eyesblissfully to the ceiling, "you are right, monsieur. It is only so thatcoffee is good--half-cold it is a very second-rate beverage. This, I maysay, is excellent. Comtois, my friend, receive my compliments, you waitadmirably; now help me to take away the table. You ought to know thatthere is nothing more unpleasant than the smell of wines and viands tothose who are not hungry nor thirsty. Monsieur," continued Bourguignon,stepping toward the door, which he had carefully shut during the repast,and which he opened while his companion pushed the table before him,"monsieur, if you have need of anything, you have three bells, one atthe head of your bed, and two at the mantelpiece. Those at the fireplaceare for us, that at the bed for your valet-de-chambre."
"Thank you, monsieur," said Buvat, "you are too good. I do not wish todisturb any one."
"Do not trouble yourself about that, monsieur--monseigneur desires thatyou should make yourself at home."
"Monseigneur is very polite."
"Does monsieur require anything else?"
"Nothing more, my friend, nothing more," said Buvat, touched by so muchdevotion; "nothing, except to express my gratitude."
"I have only done my duty, monsieur," answered Bourguignon, modestly,bowing for the last time, and shutting the door.
"Ma foi!" said Buvat, following Bourguignon with his eyes, "it must beallowed that some proverbs are great liars. One says, 'As insolent as alackey,' and yet here is an individual practicing that calling, whonevertheless could not possibly be more polite. I shall never believe inproverbs again, or rather, I shall make a difference between them."
And making himself this promise, Buvat found himself alone.
Nothing makes a man so hungry as the sight of a good dinner; that whichhad just been eaten under the good man's very eyes surpassed in luxuryeverything that he had ever dreamed of, and he began--influenced by thedecided calls of his stomach--to reproach himself for his too greatdefiance of his persecutors; but it was too late. Buvat, it is true,might have rung for Monsieur Bourguignon, and requested a second dinner,but he was of too timid a character for that, and the result was, thathe had to search among his stock of proverbs for the most consoling, andhaving found, between his situation and the proverb, "He who sleepsdines," an analogy which seemed to him most direct, he resolved to makeuse of it, and, as he could not dine, to endeavor at least to sleep.
But, at the moment of taking this resolution, Buvat found himselfassailed by new fears. Could they not profit by his sleep to dispatchhim? The night is the time of ambushes--he had often heard his mothertell of beds which, by the lowering of their canopies, smothered theunfortunate sleeper; of beds which sank through a trap, so softly as notto wake the occupant; finally, of secret doors opening in panels, andeven in furniture, to give entrance to assassins. This luxuriant dinner,these rich wines, had they not been sent him to insure a sounder sleep?All this was possible, nay, probable, and Buvat, who felt the instinctof self-preservation in the highest degree, took his candle, andcommenced a most minute investigation. After having opened the doors ofall the cupboards, sounded all the paneling, Buvat had gone down on hishands and feet, and was stretching his head timidly under the bed, whenhe thought he heard steps behind him. The position in which he foundhimself did not permit him to act on the defensive; he thereforeremained motionless, and waited with a beating heart. After a fewseconds of solemn silence, which filled Buvat with vague alarms, a voicesaid:
"Your pardon; but is not monsieur looking for his nightcap?"
Buvat was discovered--there was no means of escaping the danger, ifdanger there was. He therefore drew his head from under the bed, tookhis candle, and remaining on his knees, as a humble and beseechingposture, he turned toward the individual who had just addressed him, andfound himself face to face with a man dressed in black, and carrying,folded up on his arm, many articles, which Buvat recognized as humanclothes.
"Yes, monsieur," said Buvat, seizing the opening which was offered tohim, with a presence of mind on which he secretly congratulated himself;"is that search forbidden?"
"Why did not monsieur, instead of troubling himself, ring the bell? Ihave the honor to be appointed monsieur's valet-de-chambre, and I havebrought him a night-cap and night-shirt."
And with these words the valet-de-chambre spread out on the bed anight-shirt, embroidered with flowers, a cap of the finest lawn, and arose-colored ribbon. Buvat, still on his knees, regarded him with thegreatest astonishment.
"Now," said the valet-de-chambre, "will monsieur allow me to help him toundress?"
"No, monsieur, no," said Buvat, accompanying the refusal with thesweetest smile he could assume. "No, I am accustomed to undress myself.I thank you, monsieur."
The valet-de-chambre retired, and Buvat remained alone.
As the inspection of the room was completed, and as his increasinghunger rendered sleep more necessary, Buvat began to undress, sighing;placed--in order not to be left in the dark--a candle on the corner ofthe chimney-piece, and sprang, with a groan, into the softest andwarmest bed he had ever slept on.
"The bed is not sleep," is an axiom which Buvat might, from experience,have added to the list of his true proverbs. Either from fear or hunger,Buvat passed a very disturbed night, and it was not till near morningthat he fell asleep; even then his slumbers were peopled with the mostterrible visions and nightmares. He was just waking from a dream thathe had been poisoned by a leg of mutton, when the valet-de-chambreentered, and asked at what time he would like breakfast.
Buvat was not in the habit of breakfasting in bed, so he rose quickly,and dressed in haste; he had just finished, when Messieurs Bourguignonand Comtois entered, bringing the breakfast, as the day before they hadbrought the dinner.
Then took place a second rehearsal of the scene which we have beforerelated, with the exception that now it was Monsieur Comtois who ate andMonsieur Bourguignon who waited; but when it came to the coffee, andBuvat, who had taken nothing for twenty-four hours, saw his dearly-lovedbeverage, after having passed from the silver coffee-pot into theporcelain cup, pass into the cavernous mouth of Monsieur Comtois, hecould hold out no longer, and declared that his stomach demanded to beamused with something, and that, consequently, he desired that theywould leave him the coffee and a roll. This declaration appeared todisturb the devotion of Monsieur Comtois, who was nevertheless obligedto satisfy himself with one cup of the odoriferous liquid, which,together with a roll and the sugar, was placed on a little table, whilethe two scamps carried off the rest of the feast, laughing in theirsleeves.
Scarcely was the door closed, when Buvat darted toward the little table,and, without even waiting to dip one into the other, ate the bread anddrank the coffee; then, a little comforted by that repast, insufficientas it was, began to look at things in a less gloomy point of view.
In truth, Buvat was not wanting in a certain kind of good sense, and, ashe had passed the preceding evening and night, and entered on thepresent morning, without interference, he began to understand that,though from some political motive they had deprived him of his liberty,they were far from wishing to shorten his days, and surrounded him, onthe contrary, with cares, of which he had never before been the object.He had seen that the dinner of the day before was better than hisordinary dinner--that the bed was softer than his ordinary bed--that thecoffee he had just drunk possessed an aroma which the mixture of chicorytook away from his, and he could not conceal from himself that theelastic couches and stuffed chairs which he had sat upon for the lasttwenty-four hours were much preferable to the hair sofa and cane chairsof his own establis
hment. The only thing, then, which remained totrouble him, was the uneasiness which Bathilde would feel at his notreturning. He had for an instant the idea--not daring to renew therequest which he had made the day before, to have news of him sent tohis ward--of imitating the man with the iron mask, who had thrown asilver plate from the window of his prison on to the shore, by throwinga letter from his balcony into the courtyard of the Palais Royal; but heknew what a fatal result this infraction of the will of Monsieur deSaint-Mars had had for the unfortunate prisoner, so that he feared, bysuch an action, to increase the rigors of his captivity, which atpresent seemed to him tolerable.
The result of all these reflections was, that Buvat passed the morningin a much less agitated manner than he had the evening and the night;moreover, his hunger--appeased by the roll and the coffee--only existedin the form of that appetite which is an enjoyment when one is sure of agood dinner. Add to all this the particularly cheerful look-out whichthe prisoner had from his window, and it will be easily understood thatmid-day arrived without too many sorrows, or too much ennui.
Exactly at one o'clock the door opened, and the table reappeared readylaid, and brought, like the day before and that morning, by the twovalets. But this time, it was neither Monsieur Bourguignon nor MonsieurComtois who sat down to it. Buvat declared himself perfectly reassuredconcerning the intentions of his august host; he thanked MessieursComtois and Bourguignon for the devotion of which each in turn had givenhim a proof, and begged them to wait upon him in their turn. The twoservants made wry faces, but obeyed. It will be understood that thehappy disposition in which Buvat now was became more blissful under theinfluence of a good dinner. Buvat ate all the eatables, drank all thedrinkables, and at last, after having sipped his coffee--a luxury whichhe usually only allowed himself on Sundays--and having capped theArabian nectar with a glass of Madame Anfoux' liquor, was, it must beconfessed, in a state bordering upon ecstasy.
That evening the supper was equally successful; but as Buvat hadabandoned himself at dinner rather freely to the consumption ofChambertin and Sillery, about eight o'clock in the evening he foundhimself in a state of glorification impossible to describe. Theconsequence was, that when the valet-de-chambre entered, instead offinding him like the evening before, with his head under the bed, hefound Buvat seated on a comfortable sofa, his feet on the hobs, his headleaning back, his eyes winking, and singing between his teeth, with anexpression of infinite tenderness:
"Then let me go, And let me play, Beneath the hazel-tree."
Which, as may be seen, was a great improvement on the state of theworthy writer twenty-four hours before. Moreover, when thevalet-de-chambre offered to help him to undress, Buvat, who found aslight difficulty in expressing his thoughts, contented himself withsmiling in sign of approbation; then extended his arms to have his coattaken off, then his legs to have his slippers removed; but, in spite ofhis state of exaltation, it is only just to Buvat to say, that it wasonly when he found himself alone that he laid aside the rest of hisgarments.
This time, contrary to what he had done the day before, he stretchedhimself out luxuriously in his bed, and fell asleep in five minutes, anddreamed that he was the Grand Turk.
He awoke as fresh as a rose, having only one trouble--the uneasinessthat Bathilde must experience, but otherwise perfectly happy.
It may easily be imagined that the breakfast did not lessen his goodspirits; on the contrary, being informed that he might write to Monsieurthe Archbishop of Cambray, he asked for paper and ink, which werebrought him, took from his pocket his penknife, which never left him,cut his pen with the greatest care, and commenced, in his finestwriting, a most touching request, that if his captivity was to last,Bathilde might be sent for, or, at least, that she might be informed,that, except his liberty, he was in want of nothing, thanks to thekindness of the prime minister.
This request, to the caligraphy of which Buvat had devoted no littlecare, and whose capital letters represented different plants, trees, oranimals, occupied the worthy writer from breakfast till dinner. Onsitting down to table he gave the note to Bourguignon, who chargedhimself with carrying it to the prime minister, saying that Comtoiswould wait during his absence. In a quarter of an hour Bourguignonreturned, and informed Buvat that monseigneur had gone out, but that--inhis absence--the petition had been given to the person who aided him inhis public affairs, and that person had requested that Monsieur Buvatwould come and see him as soon as he had finished his dinner, but hopedthat monsieur would not in any degree hurry himself, since he who madethe request was dining himself. In accordance with this permission Buvattook his time, feasted on the best cookery, imbibed the most generouswines, sipped his coffee, played with his glass of liquor, and then--thelast operation completed--declared in a resolute tone, that he was readyto appear before the substitute of the prime minister.
The sentinel had received orders to let him pass, so Buvat, conducted byBourguignon, passed proudly by him. For some time they followed a longcorridor, then descended a staircase; at last the footman opened a door,and announced Monsieur Buvat.
Buvat found himself in a sort of laboratory, situated on theground-floor, with a man of from forty to forty-two, who was entirelyunknown to him, and who was very simply dressed, and occupied infollowing--at a blazing furnace--some chemical experiment, to which heappeared to attach great importance. This man, seeing Buvat, raised hishead, and having looked at him curiously--
"Monsieur," said he, "are you Jean Buvat?"----"At your service,monsieur," answered Buvat, bowing.
"The request which you have just sent to the abbe is your handwriting?"
"My own, monsieur."
"You write a fine hand."
Buvat bowed, with a proudly modest smile.
"The abbe," continued the unknown, "has informed me of the serviceswhich you have rendered us."
"Monseigneur is too good," murmured Buvat, "it was not worth thetrouble."
"How! not worth the trouble? Indeed, Monsieur Buvat, it was, on thecontrary, well worth the trouble, and the proof is, that if you have anyfavor to ask from the regent, I will charge myself with the message."
"Monsieur," said Buvat, "since you are so good as to offer to interpretmy sentiments to his royal highness, have the kindness to request him,when he is less pressed, if it is not too inconvenient, to pay me myarrears."
"How! your arrears, Monsieur Buvat? What do you mean?"
"I mean, monsieur, that I have the honor to be employed at the royallibrary, but that for six years I have received no salary."
"And how much do your arrears amount to?"
"Monsieur, I must have a pen and ink to calculate exactly."
"Oh, but something near the mark--calculate from memory."
"To five thousand three hundred and odd francs, besides the fractions ofsous and deniers."
"And you wish for payment, Monsieur Buvat?"
"I do not deny it, monsieur; it would give me great pleasure."
"And is this all you ask?"
"All."
"But do you not ask anything for the service which you have justrendered France?"
"Indeed, monsieur, I should like permission to let my ward Bathilde knowthat she may be easy on my account, and that I am a prisoner at thePalais Royal. I would also ask--if it would not be imposing upon yourkindness too much--that she might be allowed to pay me a little visit,but, if this second request is indiscreet, I will confine myself to thefirst."
"We will do better than that; the causes for which you were retainedexist no more, and we are going to set you at liberty; so you can goyourself to carry the news to Bathilde."
"What, monsieur, what!" cried Buvat; "am I, then, no longer a prisoner?"
"You can go when you like."
"Monsieur, I am your very humble servant, and I have the honor ofpresenting you my respects."
"Pardon, Monsieur Buvat, one word more."----"Two, monsieur."
"I repeat to you that France is under obligations to you, which she willacq
uit. Write, then, to the regent, inform him of what is due to you,show him your situation, and if you have a particular desire foranything, say so boldly. I guarantee that he will grant your request."
"Monsieur, you are too good, and I shall not fail. I hope, then, thatout of the first money which comes into the treasury--"
"You will be paid. I give you my word."
"Monsieur, this very day my petition shall be addressed to the regent."
"And to-morrow you will be paid."
"Ah, monsieur, what goodness!"
"Go, Monsieur Buvat, go; your ward expects you."
"You are right, monsieur, but she will lose nothing by having waited forme, since I bring her such good news. I may have the honor of seeing youagain, monsieur. Ah! pardon, would it be an indiscretion to ask yourname?"
"Monsieur Philippe."
"Au revoir! Monsieur Philippe!"
"Adieu! Monsieur Buvat. One instant--I must give orders that they are toallow you to pass."
At these words he rang: an usher appeared. "Send Ravanne."
The usher went out; a few seconds afterward a young officer of guardsentered.
"Ravanne," said Monsieur Philippe, "conduct this gentleman to the gateof the Palais Royal. There he is free to go where he wishes."
"Yes, monseigneur," answered the young officer.
A cloud passed over Buvat's eyes, and he opened his mouth to ask who itwas that was being called monseigneur, but Ravanne did not leave himtime.
"Come, monsieur," said he, "I await you."
Buvat looked at Monsieur Philippe and the page with a stupefied air; butthe latter--not understanding his hesitation--renewed his invitation tofollow. Buvat obeyed, drawing out his handkerchief, and wiping hisforehead.
At the door, the sentinel wished to stop Buvat.
"By the order of his royal highness Monseigneur the Regent, monsieur isfree," said Ravanne.
The soldier presented arms, and allowed him to pass.
Buvat thought he should faint, he felt his legs fail him, and leanedagainst a wall.
"What is the matter, monsieur?" asked his guide.
"Pardon, monsieur," murmured Buvat, "but who is the person to whom Ihave just had the honor of speaking?"
"Monseigneur the Regent in person."
"Not possible!"
"Not only possible, but true."
"What! it was the regent himself who promised to pay me my arrears?"
"I do not know what he promised you, but I know that the person who gaveme the order to accompany you was the regent."
"But he told me he was called Philippe."
"Well, he is--Philippe d'Orleans."
"That is true, monsieur, that is true, Philippe is his Christian name.The regent is a brave man, and when I remember that there existscoundrels who conspire against him--against a man who has promised topay me my arrears--but they deserve to be hanged, all of them, to bebroken on the wheel, drawn and quartered, burned alive; do not you thinkso, monsieur?"
"Monsieur," said Ravanne, laughing, "I have no opinion on matters ofsuch importance. We are at the gate; I should be happy to accompany youfurther, but monseigneur leaves in half an hour for the Abbey ofChelles, and, as he has some orders to give me before his departure, Iam--to my great regret--obliged to quit you."
"All the regret is on my side, monsieur," said Buvat, graciously, andanswering by a profound bow to the slight nod of the young man, who,when Buvat raised his head, had already disappeared. This departure leftBuvat perfectly free in his movements, and he profited thereby to takehis way down the Place des Victoires toward the Rue du Temps-Perdu,round the corner of which he turned at the very moment when D'Harmentalran his sword through the body of Roquefinette. It was at this momentthat poor Bathilde--who was far from suspecting what was passing in herneighbor's room--had seen her guardian, and had rushed to meet him onthe stairs, where Buvat and she had met at the third flight.
"Oh, my dear, dear father," cried Bathilde, remounting the staircase inBuvat's arms, and stopping to embrace him at every step, "where have youbeen? What has happened? How is it that we have not seen you sinceMonday? What uneasiness you have caused us, mon Dieu! But somethingextraordinary must have occurred."
"Yes, most extraordinary," answered Buvat.
"Ah, mon Dieu! tell then me, first, where do you come from?"
"From the Palais Royal."
"What! from the Palais Royal; and with whom were you stopping at thePalais Royal?"
"The regent."
"You with the regent! and what about?"
"I was a prisoner."
"A prisoner--you!"
"A State prisoner."
"And why were you a prisoner?"
"Because I have saved France."
"Oh, father! are you mad?" cried Bathilde, terrified.
"No, but there has been enough to make me so if I had not had a prettystrong head."
"Oh, explain, for God's sake!"
"Fancy that there was a conspiracy against the regent."
"Oh, mon Dieu!"
"And that I belonged to it."
"You?"
"Yes, I, without being--that is to say, you know that Prince deListhnay?"
"Well!"
"A sham prince, my child, a sham prince!"
"But the copies which you made for him?"
"Manifestoes, proclamations, incendiary papers, a general revolt,Brittany--Normandy--the States-General--king of Spain--I have discoveredall this."
"You?" cried Bathilde, horrified.
"Yes, I; and the regent has called me the savior of France--me; and isgoing to pay me my arrears."
"My father, my father, you talk of conspirators, do you remember thename of any of them?"
"Firstly, Monsieur the Duc de Maine; fancy that miserable bastardconspiring against a man like Monseigneur the Regent. Then a Count deLaval, a Marquis de Pompadour, a Baron de Valef, the Prince deCellamare, the Abbe Brigaud, that abominable Abbe Brigaud! Think of myhaving copied the list."
"My father," said Bathilde, shuddering with fear, "my father, among allthose names, did you not see the name--the name--of--Chevalier--Raould'Harmental?"
"That I did," cried Buvat, "the Chevalier Raoul d'Harmental--why he isthe head of the company: but the regent knows them all, and this veryevening they will all be arrested, and to-morrow hanged, drawn,quartered, broken on the wheel."
"Oh, luckless, shameful, that you are!" cried Bathilde, wringing herhands wildly; "you have killed the man whom I love--but, I swear to you,by the memory of my mother, that if he dies, I will die also!"
And thinking that she might still be in time to warn D'Harmental of thedanger which threatened him, Bathilde left Buvat confounded, darted tothe door, flew down the staircase, cleared the street at two bounds,rushed up the stairs, and, breathless, terrified, dying, hurled herselfagainst the door of D'Harmental's room, which, badly closed by thechevalier, yielded before her, exposing to her view the body of thecaptain stretched on the floor, and swimming in a sea of blood.
At this sight, so widely different from what she expected, Bathilde, notthinking that she might perhaps be compromising her lover, sprang towardthe door, calling for help, but on reaching the threshold, either fromweakness, or from the blood, her foot slipped, and she fell backwardwith a terrible cry.
The neighbors came running in the direction of the cry, and found thatBathilde had fainted, and that her head, in falling against the angle ofthe door, had been badly wounded.
They carried Bathilde to Madame Denis's room, and the good womanhastened to offer her hospitality.
As to Captain Roquefinette, as he had torn off the address of the letterwhich he had in his pocket to light his pipe with, and had no otherpaper to indicate his name or residence, they carried his body to theMorgue, where, three days afterward, it was recognized by La Normande.