JACOB TODK^MGEE MEMOMAL 
 
cht 
 
 Copyright, 1801, 1893, 
 By I-ittle, Bkown, and Company. 
 
 • • • . . . 
 
 • • •• • • 
 
 • • • • i 
 
 • •••••.•••.. • •« 
 
 University Press: 
 John Wilson and Son, Cambridge, U.S.A. 
 
LE CHEVALIER D'HARMENTAL. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 CAPTAIN EOQUEFINETTE. 
 
 On the 22d of March, in the year of our Lord 1718, a 
 young cavalier of high bearing, about twenty-six or twenty- 
 eight years of age, mounted on a pure-bred Spanish 
 charger, was waiting, toward eight o'clock in the morning, 
 at that end of the Pont Neuf which abuts on the Quai de 
 l'Ecole. He was so upright and firm in his saddle that 
 one might have imagined him to have been placed there 
 as a sentinel by the lieutenant-general of police, Messire 
 Voyer d'Argenson. After waiting about half an hour, 
 during which time he impatiently examined the clock of 
 the Samaritaine, his glance, wandering till then, appeared 
 to rest with satisfaction on an individual who, coming 
 from the Place Dauphine, turned to the right and ad- 
 vanced toward him. 
 
 The man who thus attracted the attention of the young 
 chevalier was a powerfully built fellow of five feet ten, 
 wearing, instead of a peruke, a forest of his own black 
 hair, slightly grizzled, dressed in a manner half bourgeois, 
 half military, ornamented with a shoulder-knot which had 
 once been crimson, but from exposure to sun and rain had 
 become of a dirty orange-color. He was armed with a 
 
 428221 
 
a .'•\Tfc"(&IYA5JER-J*HARMENTAL. 
 
 long sword slung in a belt, which bumped ceaselessly 
 against the calves of his legs. Finally, he wore a hat 
 which once had been adorned with a plume and with lace, 
 and which — in remembrance, no doubt, of its past splen- 
 dor — its owner had tipped so far over his left ear that it 
 seemed as if it could be kept in place only by a miracle of 
 equilibrium. There was altogether in the countenance 
 and in the carriage and bearing of the man (who seemed 
 from forty to forty-five years of age, and who advanced 
 swaggering and keeping the middle of the road, curling 
 his mustache with one hand, and with the other signing 
 to the carriages to give place) such a character of insolent 
 carelessness that the cavalier who watched him smiled 
 involuntarily as he murmured to himself, "I believe this 
 is my man." 
 
 In view of this probability, he rode straight up to the 
 new-comer, with the evident intention of speaking to him. 
 The latter, though he evidently did not know the cavalier, 
 seeing that he was going to address him, advanced his 
 right foot in the third position, and waited, one hand on 
 his sword and the other on his mustache, to hear what 
 the person who was coming up had to say to him. 
 
 As the man with the orange ribbon had foreseen, the 
 young cavalier stopped his horse near him, and touching 
 his bat, " Monsieur," said he, "I think I may conclude, 
 from your appearance and manner, that you are a gentle- 
 man; am I mistaken 1 ?" 
 
 " No, palsambleu / " replied he to whom this strange 
 question was addressed, touching his hat in his turn. "I 
 am delighted that my appearance speaks so well for me, 
 for however improbable it may seem to you that the title 
 should be mine, you may call me captain." 
 
 u I am enchanted to find that you are a soldier, Mon- 
 said the chevalier, bowing again. "It gives me 
 
CAPTAIN ROQUEFINETTE. 3 
 
 the greater assurance that you are incapable of leaving a 
 brave man in distress." 
 
 " He is welcome, provided always the brave man has 
 no need of my purse ; for I confess frankly that I have 
 just left my last crown in a cabaret on the Port de la 
 Tournelle." 
 
 " Nobody wants your purse, Captain ; on the contrary, 
 I beg you to believe that mine is at your disposal." 
 
 " To whom have I the honor to speak ? " asked the 
 captain, visibly touched by this reply ; " and in what can 
 I oblige you % " 
 
 " I am the Baron Rene de Valef," replied the cavalier. 
 
 " I think," interrupted the captain, " that I knew, in 
 the Flemish wars, a family of that name." 
 
 " It was my family ; we are from Liege." The two 
 speakers exchanged bows. 
 
 "You must know, then," continued the Baron de Yalef, 
 " that the Chevalier Raoul d'Harmental, one of my most 
 intimate friends, last night in my company engaged in a 
 quarrel, which is to be finished this morning by a meeting. 
 Our adversaries were three, and we but two. I went thi* 
 morning to the houses of the Marquis de Gace and the 
 Comte de Surgis, but unfortunately neither of them had 
 spent the night in his bed ; so as the affair could not 
 wait, since I must set out in two hours for Spain, and as 
 we absolutely require a second, or rather a third, I in- 
 stalled myself on the Pont Neuf with the intention of 
 addressing the first gentleman who should approach. You 
 came, and I addressed myself to you." 
 
 "And you have done right, pardieu / rest satisfied, 
 Baron, I am your man. What hour is fixed for the 
 meeting 1 " 
 
 " Half-past nine this morning." 
 
 " "Where will it take place ? " 
 
4 LE CHEVALIER D'lIARMENTAL. 
 
 " At the Maillot gate." 
 
 " Diable I there is no time to lose. But you are on 
 horseback and I am on foot ; how shall we manage 
 that?" 
 
 " There is a way, Captain." 
 
 "What is it?" 
 
 " It is that you should do me the honor of mounting 
 behind me." 
 
 " Willingly, Baron." 
 
 " I warn you, however," added the young cavalier, with 
 a slight smile, "that my horse is rather spirited." 
 
 " Oh, I know him ! " said the captain, drawing back a 
 step, and looking at the beautiful animal with the eye of 
 a connoisseur ; " if I am not mistaken, he was bred be- 
 tween the mountains of Grenada and the Sierra Morena. 
 I rode a horse like that at Almanza ; and I have often 
 made him lie down like a sheep when he wanted to carry 
 me off at a gallop, only by pressing him with my knees." 
 
 " You reassure me. To horse, then, Captain." 
 
 " Here I am, Baron." 
 
 And without using the stirrup, which the young cava- 
 lier left free for him, with a single bound the captain 
 sprang onto the croup. 
 
 The baron had spoken truly ; his horse was not accus- 
 tomed to so heavy a load, and at once he attempted to get 
 rid of it. Neither had the captain exaggerated, and the 
 animal soon found that he had to do with those who were 
 stronger than he ; so that after a few leaps, which had no 
 other effect than to show to the passers-by the address of 
 the two cavaliers, he became obedient, and went at a 
 swinging trot down the Quai de l'Ecole, which at that 
 time was nothing but a wharf, crossed at the same pace 
 the Quai du Louvre and the Quai des Tuileries, through 
 the gate of the Conference, and leaving on the left the 
 
CAPTAIN ROQUEFINETTE. 5 
 
 road to Versailles, threaded the great avenue of the Champs 
 IDlysees, which now leads to the triumphal Arc de l'Etoile. 
 Arrived at the Pont d'Antin, the Baron de Valef slack- 
 ened his horse's pace a little, for he found that he had 
 ample time to arrive at the Maillot gate at the appointed 
 time. 
 
 The captain profited by this respite. " Now, Monsieur," 
 said he, " may I, without indiscretion, ask why we are 
 going to fight 1 I wish, you understand, to know that, in 
 order to regulate my conduct toward my adversary, and 
 to judge whether it is worth while to kill him." 
 
 " That is only fair," answered the baron ; " I will tell 
 you everything as it occurred. We were supping last 
 night at La Fillon's. Of course you know La Fillon, 
 Captain 1 " 
 
 " Pardieu ! it was I who started her in the world, in 
 1705, before my Italian campaigns." 
 
 "Well," replied the baron, laughing, "you may boast 
 of a pupil J Vho does you honor. Briefly, I supped there 
 t§te-a-t§te with D'Harmental." 
 
 " Without any one of the fair sex % " 
 
 " Oh, mon Dieu ! yes. I must tell you that D'Harmental 
 is a kind of Trappist, only going to La Fillon's for fear of 
 the reputation of not going there ; loving only one woman 
 at a time, and in love for the moment with the little 
 D'Averne, the wife of the lieutenant of the guards." 
 
 " Very good ! " 
 
 " We were there, chatting, when we heard a merry 
 party enter the room next to ours. As our conversation 
 did not concern anybody else, we kept silence, and with- 
 out intending it, heard the conversation of our neighbors. 
 Now see what chance is ! our neighbors talked of the only 
 thing which we ought not to have heard." 
 
 " Of the chevalier's mistress 2 " 
 
C LE CHEVALIER D'HARMENTAL. 
 
 " Exactly. At the first words of their discourse which 
 reached me, I rose and tried to get Raoul away ; but in- 
 stead of following me, he put his hand on my shoulder, 
 and made me sit down again. ' Then Philippe is making 
 love to the little D'Averne 1 ' said one. ' Since the fete 
 of the Marechale d'Estrees, where, disguised as Venus, she 
 gave him a sword-belt with some verses, in which she 
 compared liirn to Mars/ replied another voice. ' But that 
 is eight days ago,' said a third. ' Yes,' replied the first. 
 
 • Oh ! she made a kind of resistance, either because she 
 really held by poor D'Harmental, or because she knew 
 that the regent likes only those who resist him. At last, 
 this morning, in exchange for a basketful of flowers and 
 jewels, she has consented to receive his Highness this 
 evening.' " 
 
 " Ah ! " said the captain, " I begin to understand ; the 
 chevalier got angry 1 " 
 
 " Exactly. Instead of laughing, as you or I would have 
 done, and profiting by this circumstance to get back his 
 brevet of colonel, which was taken from him under pre- 
 text of economy, D'Harmental became so pale that I 
 thought he was going to faint; then, approaching the 
 partition, and striking with his fist, to insure silence, 
 
 * Gentlemen,' said he, ' I am sorry to contradict you, but 
 the one who said that Madame d'Averne had granted a 
 rendezvous to the regent, or to any other, told a lie.' 
 
 " ' It is I, Monsieur, who said it, and who repeat it,' 
 said a voice on the other side ; ' and if in that there is 
 anything displeasing to you, my name is Lafare, captain 
 of the guards.' 'And mine, Fargy,' said a second voice. 
 ' And mine, Ravanne,' said a third. * Very well, gentle- 
 men,' replied D'Harmental ; ' to-morrow, from nine to half- 
 past, at the Maillot gate.' And he sat down again opposite 
 me. They talked of something else, and we finished our 
 
CAPTAIN ROQUEFINETTE. 7 
 
 supper. That is the whole affair, Captain, and you now 
 know as much as I." 
 
 The captain uttered a kind of exclamation which seemed 
 to say, " This is not very serious ; " but in spite of this 
 semi-disapprobation of the chevalier's sensitiveness, he 
 resolved none the less to support, to the best of his power, 
 the cause of which he had so unexpectedly been made the 
 champion, however defective that cause might appear to 
 him in principle ; besides, even had he wished to draw 
 back, it was now too late. They arrived at the Maillot 
 gate, and a young cavalier, who appeared to be waiting, 
 and who had from a distance perceived the baron and the 
 captain, put his horse to the gallop, and approached 
 rapidly ; this was the Chevalier d'Harmental. 
 
 " My dear Chevalier," said the Baron de Valef, grasping 
 his hand, " permit me, in default of an old friend, to pre- 
 sent to you a new one. Neither Surgis nor Gace was at 
 home. I met this gentleman on the Pont Neuf, and told 
 him our embarrassment, and he offered himself to free us 
 from it, with the greatest good-will." 
 
 " I am doubly grateful to you, then, my dear Valef," 
 replied the chevalier, casting on the captain a look which 
 betrayed a slight astonishment. " And to you, Monsieur," 
 he continued, " I must excuse myself for making your 
 acquaintance by mixing you up thus with an unpleasant 
 affair. But you will afford me one day or another an 
 opportunity to return your kindness, and I hope and beg 
 that, an opportunity arising, you will dispose of me as I 
 have disposed of you." 
 
 " Well said, Chevalier," replied the captain, leaping to 
 the ground ; " and in speaking thus, you might lead me 
 to the end of the world. The proverb is right, — ' It is 
 only mountains that don't meet.' " 
 
 " Who is this original % " asked D'Harmental of Valef, 
 
8 LE CHEVALIER D'HARMENTAL. 
 
 while the captain stamped the calls with his right foot, to 
 stretch his legs. 
 
 " Faith, I don't know," said Valef ; " but I know that 
 we should be in a great difficulty without him. Some 
 poor officer of fortune, without doubt, whom the peace has 
 thrown aside like so many others ; but we will judge him 
 by-and-by, by his works." 
 
 " Well ! " said the captain, becoming animated with the 
 exercise he was taking, " where are our coxcombs 1 I find 
 myself in good trim this morning." 
 
 " When I came up to you," replied D'Harmental, " they 
 had not arrived, but I perceived at the end of the avenue 
 a kind of hired carriage, which will serve as an excuse if 
 they are late ; and indeed," added the chevalier, pulling 
 out a beautiful watch set with diamonds, " they are not 
 behind time, for it is hardly half-past nine." 
 
 " Let us go," said Valef, dismounting and throwing the 
 reins to D'Harmental's valet ; " for if they arrive at the 
 rendezvous while we stand gossiping here, it will appear 
 as though we had kept them waiting." 
 
 "You are right," said D'Harmental ; and dismounting, 
 he advanced toward the entrance of the wood, followed 
 by his two companions. 
 
 " Will you not take anything, gentlemen 1 " said the 
 landlord of the restaurant, who was standing at his door, 
 waiting for custom. 
 
 "Yes, Maitre Durand," replied D'Harmental, who 
 wished, in order that they might not be disturbed, to 
 make it appear as if they had come for an ordinary walk, 
 " breakfast for three. We are going to take a turn in the 
 avenue, and then we shall come back." And he let three 
 louis fall into the hands of the innkeeper. 
 
 The captain saw the glitter of the three gold-pieces one 
 after another, and quickly reckoned up what might be 
 
CAPTAIN ROQUEFINETTE. 9 
 
 had at the " Bois de Boulogne " for seventy-two francs ; 
 but as he knew with whom he had to deal, he judged 
 that a little advice from him would not be useless. Con- 
 sequently, in his turn approaching the maitre d'hotel, 
 " Listen, my friend," said he ; " you know that I under- 
 stand the price of things, and that no one can deceive me 
 about the amount of a tavern bill. Let the wines be good 
 and varied, and let the breakfast be copious, or I will 
 break your head ! Do you understand 1 " 
 
 " Be easy, Captain," answered Durand, " it is not a cus- 
 tomer like you whom I would try to deceive." 
 
 "All right; I have eaten nothing for twelve hours. 
 Arrange accordingly." 
 
 The hotel-keeper bowed, as knowing what that meant, 
 and went back to his kitchen, beginning to think that he 
 had in hand* a less profitable aifair than at first he had 
 hoped it would be. 
 
 As to the captain, after making a final gesture of warn- 
 ing, half amicable, half threatening, he quickened his pace, 
 and rejoined the chevalier and the baron, who had stopped 
 to wait for him. 
 
 The chevalier was not wrong in regard to the hired car- 
 riage. At the turn of the first alley he saw his three 
 adversaries getting out of it. They were, as we have 
 already said, the Marquis de Lafare, the Comte de Fargy, 
 and the Chevalier de Ravanne. 
 
 Our readers will now permit us to give them some brief 
 details in regard to these three personages, who will often 
 reappear in the course of this history. Lafare, the best 
 known of the three, thanks to the poetry which he has 
 left behind him, was a man about thirty -six or thirty- 
 eight years of age, of a frank and open countenance, and 
 an inexhaustible gayety and good-humor, — always ready 
 to engage with all comers, at table, at play, or at arms, and 
 
10 LE CHEVALIEft D'HARMENTAL. 
 
 that without malice or bitterness ; much run after by the 
 fair sex, and much beloved by the regent, who had named 
 him his captain of the Guards, and who, during the ten 
 years in which he had admitted him into his intimacy, 
 had found him his rival sometimes, but his faithful ser- 
 vant always. Thus the prince, who had the habit of 
 giving nicknames to all his boon companions, as well as 
 to his mistresses, never called him by any other than 
 " bon enfant." Nevertheless, for some time the popularity 
 of Lafare, established as it was by favoring antecedents, 
 was fast diminishing among the ladies of the court and 
 the girls of the opera. There was a report current that 
 he was going to be so ridiculous as to become a well- 
 behaved man. It is true that some, in order to preserve 
 for him his reputation, whispered that this apparent 
 conversion had no other cause than the jealousy of 
 Mademoiselle de Conti, daughter of the duchess, and 
 granddaughter of the great Conde, who, it was said, hon- 
 ored the regent's captain of the Guards with a particular 
 affection. His alliance with the Due de Richelieu, who 
 was supposed to be the lover of Mademoiselle de Charo- 
 lais, gave consistency to this report. 
 
 The Cornte de Fargy, generally called " Le Beau Fargy," 
 by a substitution of the title which he had received from 
 Nature for that which his fathers had left him, was re- 
 ferred to, as his name indicates, as the handsomest man 
 of his time, which in that age of gallantry imposed obli- 
 gations from which he had never recoiled, and in regard 
 to which he had always acquitted himself with honor. 
 Indeed, it was impossible to have a more perfect figure 
 than his. At once strong and graceful, supple and active, 
 he seemed to unite all the different perfections of the 
 heroes of romance of that time. Add to this a charming 
 head, combining the most opposite styles of beauty, — that 
 
CAPTAIN ROQTJEFINETTE. 11 
 
 is to say, black hair and blue eyes, strongly marked 
 features, and a complexion like that of a woman. Add 
 also wit, loyalty, and the greatest courage, and you will 
 have an idea of the high consideration which Le Fargy 
 must have enjoyed in the society of that mad period. 
 
 As to the Chevalier de Ravanne, who has left us such 
 strange memoirs of his early life that in spite of their 
 authenticity one is tempted to believe them apocryphal, 
 he was still but a youth ; he was rich and of noble birth, 
 who entered into life by a golden door, and ran into all 
 its pleasures with the fiery imprudence and eagerness of 
 youth. He carried to excess, as so many do at eighteen, 
 all the vices and all the virtues of his day. It will be 
 easily understood how proud he was to serve as second to 
 men like Lafare and Fargy in a meeting which was likely 
 to " make a noise." . 
 
12 LE CHEVALIER D'HARMENTAL. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 THE MEETING. 
 
 As soon as Lafare, Fargy, and Ravanne saw their adver- 
 saries appear at the corner of the path, they walked to 
 meet them. Arrived at ten paces from one another, they 
 all took off their hats and bowed with that elegant polite- 
 ness which was a characteristic of the aristocracy of the 
 eighteenth century, and advanced some steps thus bare- 
 headed with smiles on their lips, so that to the eyes of 
 the passer-by, ignorant of the cause of their encounter, 
 they would have appeared like friends pleased at a chance 
 meeting. 
 
 " Gentlemen," said the Chevalier d'Harmental, to whom 
 the first word by right belonged, "I hope that neither 
 you nor we have been followed ; but it is getting late, and 
 we might be disturbed here. I think it would be wise in 
 us to find a more retired spot, where we shall be more at 
 ease to transact the little business which we have in hand." 
 
 " Gentlemen," said Ravanne, " I know one which will 
 suit you, a hundred yards from here, — a true cover." 
 
 " Come, let us follow the child," said the captain ; 
 " innocence leads to safety." 
 
 Ravanne turned round, and examined from head to 
 foot our friend with the yellow ribbons. " If you are 
 not previously engaged, my strapping friend," said he, in 
 a bantering tone, " I claim the preference." 
 
 " Wait a moment, Ravanne," interrupted Lafare ; " I 
 have some explanations to give to Monsieur d'Harmental." 
 
THE MEETING. 13 
 
 " Monsieur Lafare," replied the chevalier, u your cour- 
 age is so well known that the explanations you offer me 
 are a proof of delicacy for which I thank you ; but these 
 explanations would only delay us uselessly, and we have 
 no time to lose." 
 
 " Bravo ! " cried Ravanne, " that is what I call speak- 
 ing, Chevalier. As soon as we have cut each other's 
 throats, I hope you will grant me your friendship. I 
 have heard you much spoken of in good quarters, and 
 have long wished to make your acquaintance." 
 
 "Come, come, Ravanne," said Fargy, "since you have 
 undertaken to be our guide, show us the way." 
 
 Ravanne sprang into the wood like a young fawn ; his 
 five companions followed. At the end of about ten min- 
 utes' walking, during which the six adversaries had main- 
 tained the most profound silence, either from fear of being 
 heard or from that natural feeling which in the moment of 
 danger makes a man reflective, they found themselves in 
 the midst of a glade, surrounded on all sides by a screen 
 of trees. 
 
 "Well, gentlemen," said Ravanne, looking round him 
 in a satisfied manner, " what do you say to the locality 1 " 
 
 " I say that if you boast of having discovered it," said 
 the captain, "you are a strange kind of Christopher 
 Columbus. If you had told me it was here you were 
 coming, I could have guided you with my eyes shut." 
 
 " Well," replied Ravanne, " we will try to give you a 
 chance to leave the place in the manner in which you 
 would have come to it." 
 
 "It is with you that my business lies, Monsieur de 
 Lafare," said D'Harmental, throwing his hat on the 
 ground. 
 
 " Yes, Monsieur," replied the captain of the guards, fol- 
 lowing the example of the chevalier ; " and at the same 
 
14 LE CHEVALIER D'HARMENTAL. 
 
 time I feel that nothing could give me more honor and 
 more pain than a meeting with you, particularly for such 
 a cause." ' 
 
 D'Harmental smiled as a man on whom this flower of 
 politeness was not lost, but his only answer was to draw 
 his sword. 
 
 "It appears, my dear Baron," said Fargy, addressing 
 himself to Valef, " that you are on the point of setting out 
 for Spain." 
 
 " I ought to have left last night, my dear Count," re- 
 plied Valef ; " and nothing less than the pleasure I prom- 
 ised myself in seeing you this morning would have 
 detained me till now, so important is my errand." 
 
 " Diable ! you distress me," said Fargy, drawing ; " for 
 if I should have the misfortune to retard you, you are the 
 man to bear me deadly malice." 
 
 "Not at all. I should know that it was from pure 
 friendship, my dear Count," replied Valef. " So do your 
 best, I beg, and at once; I am at your orders." 
 
 "Come, then, Monsieur," said Ravanne to the captain, 
 who was folding his coat neatly and placing it by his hat, 
 " you see that I am waiting for you." 
 
 " Do not be impatient, my fine fellow," said the old 
 soldier, continuing his preparations with the deliberation 
 natural to him. " One of the most essential qualities in 
 arms is sang-froid. I was like you at your age j but after 
 the third or fourth sword-blow I received, I understood 
 that I was on the wrong road, and I returned to the right 
 path. There!" he added, at last drawing his sword, 
 which we have said was of great length. 
 
 " Peste, Monsieur ! " said Ravanne, throwing a glance 
 on his adversary's weapon ; " what a charming implement 
 you have there ! It reminds me of the great spit in my 
 mother's kitchen j and I am grieved that I did not order 
 
THE MEETING. 15 
 
 the maitre oV hotel to bring it to me, as a match to 
 yours." 
 
 " Your mother is a worthy woman, and her kitchen is a 
 good one ; I have heard both spoken of with great praise, 
 Monsieur le Chevalier," replied the captain, with an almost 
 paternal manner. " I should be grieved to take you from 
 one or the other for a trifle like that which procures me 
 the honor of crossing swords with you. Suppose, then, 
 that you are only taking a lesson from your fencing- 
 master, and keep your distance." 
 
 The recommendation was useless. Ravanne was exas- 
 perated by his adversary's calmness, to which, in spite of 
 his courage, his young and ardent blood did not allow 
 him to attain. He attacked the captain with such fury 
 that their swords engaged at the hilt. The captain made 
 a step ba<ck. 
 
 " Ah, you give ground, my tall friend ! " cried Ravanne. 
 
 " To give ground is not to fly, my little Chevalier," re- 
 plied the oaptain ; " that is an axiom of the art which I 
 advise you to consider. Besides, I am not sorry to study 
 your play. Ah, you are a pupil of Berthelot, apparently ; 
 he is a good master, but he has one great defect, — he 
 does n't teach how to parry. Stay, look at this," he con- 
 tinued, replying by a thrust in seconde to a straight thrust; 
 " if I had lunged, I should have spitted you like a lark." 
 
 Ravanne was furious, for he had felt on his side the 
 point of his adversary's sword, which, however, touched 
 him so lightly that he might have taken it for the button 
 of a foil. His anger therefore was increased by the con- 
 viction that he owed his life to the captain ; and his 
 attacks became more frequent and furious than ever. 
 
 " Stop, stop ! " said the captain ; " now you are losing 
 your head and trying to blind me. Fie, fie, young man ! 
 at the chest, morbleu / Ah, at the face again 1 you will 
 
16 LE CHEVALIER D'HARMENTAL. 
 
 force me to disarm you. Again 1 Go and pick up your 
 sword, young man ; and come back hopping on one leg to 
 calm yourself." And with a sudden twist he whipped 
 Ravanne's sword out of his hand, and sent it flying some 
 twenty paces from him. 
 
 This time Ravanne profited by the advice. He went 
 slowly to pick up his sword, and came back slowly to the 
 captain ; but the young man was as pale as his satin vest, 
 on which was apparent a small drop of blood. " You are 
 right, Monsieur," said he, " and I am still but a child ; 
 but this meeting will, I hope, help to make a man of me. 
 A few more passes, if you please, that it may not be said 
 you have had all the honors." And he put himself on 
 guard. 
 
 The captain was right ; the chevalier needed only to be 
 calm to be a formidable adversary. Thus, at the first 
 thrust of this third engagement, the captain saw that he 
 must attend solely to his own defence; but his superiority 
 in the art of fencing was too decided for his young adver- 
 sary to obtain any advantage over him. The matter 
 ended as it was easy to foresee. The captain disarmed 
 Ravanne a second time ; but this time he went and picked 
 up the sword himself, and with a politeness of which at 
 first one might have supposed him incapable. " Monsieur 
 le Chevalier," said he, extending his hand to Ravanne, 
 " you are a brave young man ; but believe in an old fre- 
 quenter of schools and taverns, who was at the Flemish 
 wars before you were born, at the Italian when you were 
 in your cradle, and at the Spanish while you were a page. 
 Change your master. Leave Berthelot, who has already 
 taught you all ho knows, and take Bois-Robert ; and may 
 the devil fly away with me if in six months you are not 
 as good a fencer as myself!" 
 
 "Thanks for your lesson, Monsieur," said Ravanne, 
 
THE MEETING. 17 
 
 taking the hand of the captain, while two tears, which he 
 could not restrain, flowed down his cheeks ; "I hope it 
 will profit me." And receiving his sword from the cap- 
 tain, he did what the latter had already done with his, — 
 he returned it to its scabbard. 
 
 They then both cast their eyes on their companions to 
 see how they were faring. The combat was over. Lafare 
 was seated on the ground, with his back leaning against a 
 tree. He had been run through the body, but happily 
 the point of the sword had struck against a rib, and had 
 glanced along the bone, so that the wound seemed at first 
 worse than it really was ; still he had fainted, the shock 
 had been so violent. D'Harmental was on his knees be- 
 fore him, endeavoring to stanch the blood with his hand- 
 kerchief. Fargy and Valef had wounded each other at 
 the same moment. One was struck in the thigh, the 
 other run through the arm ; both had apologized, prom- 
 ising to be friends for the future. 
 
 " Look, young man," said the captain, showing Ravanne 
 these different episodes of the field of battle, — " look on 
 that, and meditate. There is the blood of three brave gen- 
 tlemen flowing, — probably for some worthless woman." 
 
 " Faith, Captain," answered Ravanne, quite calmed 
 down, " I believe you are right, and that you are the 
 only one of us all that has common-sense." 
 
 At that moment Lafare opened his eyes and recognized 
 D'Harmental in the man who was tending him. " Cheva- 
 lier," said he, " take a friend's advice ; send me a surgeon 
 whom you will find in the carriage, and whom I brought 
 with me to provide against accident. Then go to Paris as 
 fast as possible. Show yourself to-night at the opera 
 ball, and if they ask you about me, say that it is a week 
 since you have seen me. As to me, you may be entirely 
 unconcerned. Your name shall not pass my lips ; and if 
 
 2 
 
18 LE CHEVALIER D'HARMENTAL. 
 
 you get into any unpleasant discussion with the police, let 
 me know at once, and we will manage so that the affair 
 shall have no consequences." 
 
 " Thanks, Monsieur le Marquis," answered D'Harmen- 
 tul ; " I leave you, because I know you are in better 
 hands than mine. Otherwise, believe me, nothing should 
 have separated me from you until I had seen you in 
 your bed." 
 
 " Pleasant journey, my dear Valef," said Fargy ; " for 
 I do not think that scratch will hinder your going. On 
 your return, do not forget that you have a friend at No. 
 14 Place Louis-le-Grand." 
 
 " And you, my dear Fargy, if you have any commission 
 for Madrid, you have but to say so, and you may rely 
 upon its being executed with the exactitude and zeal of a 
 true comrade." And the two friends shook hands as if 
 nothing had happened. 
 
 "Adieu, young man, adieu, " said the captain to 
 Ravanne ; " do not forget the advice which I have given 
 you. Give up Berthelot, and take to Bois-Robert. Espe- 
 cially be calm, give ground when it is necessary, parry in 
 time, and you will be one of the best fencers in the king- 
 dom of France. My implement sends its compliments to 
 your mother's great spit." * 
 
 Ravanne, in spite of his presence of mind, could not 
 find anything to reply to the captain; he turned away 
 With a bew, and went to Lafare, who of the two wounded 
 seemed the more seriously hurt. 
 
 to D'Harmental, Valef, and the captain, they rapidly 
 gained the path, where they found the coach, and inside, 
 the surgeon, who was enjoying a nap. D'Harmental woke 
 him, and showing him the way he must go, told him that 
 the Marquis de Lafare and the Comte de Fargy had need 
 of his .services. He also ordered his valet to dismount 
 
THE MEETING. 19 
 
 and follow the surgeon in order to aid him ; then, turning 
 toward the captain, " Captain," said he, " I do not think 
 that it would be prudent to go and eat the breakfast 
 which we have ordered ; therefore receive my thanks for 
 the assistance you have rendered me, and in remembrance 
 of me, as it seems you are on foot, will you accept one of 
 my two horses 1 You can take either of them ; they are 
 both good, and neither will fail you if you have need to 
 go eight or ten leagues in an hour." 
 
 " Faith, Chevalier," answered the captain, casting a look 
 on the horse which had been so generously offered to him, 
 " there was no need for that ; their blood and their purses 
 are things which gentlemen lend one another every day. 
 But you make the offer with so good a grace that I know 
 not how to refuse you. If you ever have need of me 
 for anything whatever, remember that I am at your 
 service." 
 
 " If that should be the case, where should I find you, 
 Monsieur 1 " said D'Harmental, smiling. 
 
 "I have no fixed residence, Chevalier, but you may 
 always hear of me by going to La Fillon's and asking 
 for La Normande, and inquiring of her for Captain 
 Roquefinette." 
 
 And as the two young men mounted their horses, the 
 captain also mounted, not without remarking to himself 
 that D'Harmental had left him the best horse of the three. 
 Then, as they were near cross-roads, each one took his 
 own way and went off at a gallop. 
 
 The Baron de Valef re-entered by the Barriere de Passy, 
 and returned straight to the Arsenal to receive the com- 
 missions of the Duchesse du Maine, to whose establish- 
 ment he belonged, and left the same day for Spain. 
 
 Captain Roquefinette took two or three turns round 
 the Bois de Boulogne, walking, trotting, and galloping, in 
 
20 LE CHEVALIER D'HARMENTAL. 
 
 order to test the qualities of his horse ; and having satis- 
 fied himself that it was, as the chevalier had told him, a 
 fine and pure-blooded animal, he returned to Durand's 
 hotel, where he ate, all alone, the breakfast which had 
 been ordered for three. The same day, he took his horse 
 to a dealer and sold it for sixty louis. It was about half 
 what it was worth ; but one must be prepared to make 
 sacrifices if one wishes to realize promptly. 
 
 As to the Chevalier d'Harmental, he took the road to 
 La Muette, entered Paris by the great avenue of the 
 Champs Elysees, and on returning to his home in the 
 Rue de Richelieu, found two letters waiting for him. 
 One of these letters was in a handwriting so well known 
 to him that he trembled from head to foot as he looked 
 at it ; and after having taken it up with as much hesita- 
 tion as if it had been a burning coal, he opened it with a 
 hand whose shaking betrayed the importance he attached 
 to it. It read as follows : — 
 
 My dear Chevalier, — No one is master of his own heart, 
 — you know that ; and it is one of the misfortunes of our 
 nature not to be able to love the same person, or the same 
 thing, for a long time. As to myself, I wish at least to have, 
 beyond other women, the merit of never deceiving the man 
 who has been my ]over. Do not come, then, at your accus- 
 tomed hour, for you will be told that I am not at home ; and 
 I am so scrupulous that I would not willingly endanger the 
 soul of a valet or a waiting-maid by making them tell so 
 great a lie. 
 
 Adieu, my dear Chevalier. Do not retain too unkind a 
 remembrance of me, and behave so that ten years hence I may 
 still think what I think now, — that is to say, that you are 
 one of the noblest gentlemen in France. 
 
 Sophie d'Averne. 
 
 " Mori Dieu J " cried D'Harmental, striking his fist on 
 a beautiful buhl table, which he smashed to bits, "if 
 
THE MEETING. 21 
 
 I have killed that poor Lafare, I never shall forgive 
 myself!" 
 
 After this outburst, which comforted him a little, the 
 poor fellow began to walk backward and forward between 
 the door and the window in a manner that showed that 
 he needed still other deceptions of the same kind before 
 he could attain to the height of moral philosophy which 
 the faithless beauty preached to him. Then, after taking 
 several turns, he saw the other letter, which he had en- 
 tirely forgotten, lying on the floor ; and still he passed by 
 it two or three times, regarding it with a supreme indif- 
 ference. At last, as if it occurred to him that it might 
 divert his mind from the other letter, he picked it up dis- 
 dainfully, opened it slowly, looked at the writing, which 
 was unknown to him, searched for the signature, which 
 was wanting, and with a curiosity quickened by that 
 appearance of mystery, read as follows : — 
 
 Chevalier, — If you have in your mind a quarter of the 
 romance, or in your heart half the courage, that your friends 
 give you credit for, some one is ready to offer you an enter- 
 prise worthy of you, the result of which will be at the same 
 time to avenge you on the man you hate most in the world, 
 and to conduct you to a goal more brilliant than you can have 
 hoped for in your wildest dreams. The good genius who will 
 lead you thither by an enchanted road, and in whom you 
 must trust entirely, will expect you this evening from twelve 
 to two o'clock at the opera ball. If you go there unmasked, 
 he w T ill come to you ; if you come masked, you will know him 
 by the violet ribbon which he w T ill wear on his left shoulder. 
 The watch- word is " Open sesame ! " Pronounce it boldly, 
 and a cavern will open to you as wonderful as that of Ali 
 Baba. 
 
 " Bravo ! " said D'Harmental ; "if the genius in the 
 violet ribbons keeps only half his promise, by my honor 
 he has found his man ! " 
 
22 LE CHEVALIEK D'HAKMENTAL, 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 THE CHEVALIER. 
 
 The Chevalier Raoul d'Harmental, with whom, before go- 
 ing farther, it is necessary that our readers make a better 
 acquaintance, was the last scion of one of the best families 
 of Nivernais. Although that family never had played an 
 important part in history, yet it had a degree of renown 
 which it had acquired partly by itself, and partly by its 
 alliances. The father of the chevalier, the Sire Gaston 
 d'Harmental, had come to Paris in 1682, and had proved 
 his genealogical tree from the year 1399, — an heraldic 
 achievement which would have given some trouble to 
 more than one duke and peer. In another direction, his 
 maternal uncle, Monsieur de Torigny, before being named 
 chevalier of the order in the promotion of 1694, had con- 
 fessed, in order to get his sixteen quarterings recognized, 
 that the best part of his scutcheon was that of the 
 D'Harmentals, with whom his ancestors had been allied 
 for three hundred years. Here, then, was enough to 
 satisfy the aristocratic demands of the age of which we 
 write. 
 
 The chevalier was neither poor nor rich, — that is to 
 say, his father, when he died, had left him an estate in 
 the environs of Nevers, which brought him in from 
 twenty thousand to twenty-five thousand francs a year. 
 This was enough to enable him to live well in the country; 
 but the chevalier had received an excellent education, and 
 was very ambitious, therefore he had at his majority, in 
 
THE CHEVALIER. 23 
 
 1711, left his home for Paris. His first visit was to the 
 Comte de Torigny, on whom he counted to introduce him 
 at court. Unfortunately, at that time the Comte de 
 Torigny was absent from home ; but as he remembered 
 with pleasure the family of D'Harmental, he recommended 
 his nephew to the Chevalier de Villarceaux, who could 
 refuse nothing to his friend the Comte de Torigny, and 
 took the young man to Madame de Maintenon. 
 
 Madame de Maintenon had one good quality, — she 
 always continued to be the friend of her old lovers. She 
 received the Chevalier d'Harmental graciously, thanks to 
 the old recollections which recommended him to her, and 
 some days afterward, the Marechal de Villars coming to 
 pay his court to her, she spoke a few such pressing words 
 in favor of her young protege, that the marshal, delighted 
 to find an opportunity of obliging this queen in partibus, 
 replied that from that hour he attached the chevalier to 
 his military establishment, and would take care to offer 
 him every occasion to justify his august protectress's good 
 opinion of him. 
 
 It was a great joy to the chevalier to see such a door 
 opened to him. The coming campaign would be defini- 
 tive. Louis XIV. had arrived at the last period of his 
 reign, — the period of reverses. Tallard and Marsin had 
 been beaten at Hochstett, Villeroi at Eamilies, and Villars 
 himself, the hero of Friedlingen, had lost the famous 
 battle of Malplaquet against Marlborough and Eugene. 
 Europe, kept down for a time by Colbert and Louvois, 
 rose against France ; and the situation of affairs was 
 desperate. 
 
 The king, like a despairing invalid who changes his 
 doctor every hour, changed ministers every day. Every 
 new expedient only revealed a new weakness. France 
 could not sustain war, and could not obtain peace. 
 
24 LE CHEVALIER D'HARMENTAL. 
 
 Vainly she offered to abandon Spain, and limit her fron- 
 tier. This was not sufficient humiliation. It was de- 
 manded of the king that he should allow the hostile 
 armies to cross France, in order to chase his grandson 
 from the throne of Spain ; and also that he should give 
 up, as pledges, Canibray, Metz, La Rochelle, and Bayonne, 
 unless he preferred dethroning that grandson himself, by 
 open force, within a year. 
 
 Such were the conditions on which a truce was granted 
 to the conqueror of Les Dunes, Senef, Fleurus, Steenkirk, 
 and of La Marsaille ; to him who had hitherto held in 
 the folds of his royal mantle peace and war ; to him w r ho 
 called himself the distributer of crowns, the chastiser of 
 nations, the great, the immortal ; to him in whose honor, 
 during the last half-century, marbles have been sculptured, 
 bronzes cast, sonnets written, and libations of flattery 
 poured out. 
 
 Louis XIV. had wept in full council. These tears had 
 produced an army, which was intrusted to Villars. 
 
 Villars marched straight to the enemy, whose camp was 
 at Denain, and who reposed in security while watching 
 the agony of France. Never had greater responsibility 
 rested on one head. Villars was about to stake the sal- 
 vation of France on a single venture. 
 
 The allies had established a line of fortifications be- 
 tween Denain and Marchiennes, which, with proud anti- 
 cipation, Albemarle and Eugene called the high-road to 
 Paris. Villars resolved to take Denain by surprise, 
 and Albemarle conquered, to give battle to Eugene. 
 In order to succeed in this audacious enterprise, it was 
 necessary to deceive, not only the enemy's army, but also 
 his own, — its success depending, so to speak, on its 
 impossibility. 
 
 Villars announced openly his intention of forcing the 
 
THE CHEVALIER. 25 
 
 lines of Landrecies. One night, at an appointed hour, the 
 whole army moves off in the direction of that town. 
 Suddenly the order is given to bear to the left. The 
 engineers throw three bridges over the Scheldt. Villars 
 passes over the river without obstacle, throws himself 
 into the marshes, considered impassable, through which 
 the soldier advances with the water up to his waist, 
 marches straight to the first redoubts and takes them 
 almost without striking a blow, seizes successively forti- 
 fications covering a league, reaches Denain, crosses the 
 moat which surrounds it, penetrates into the town, and 
 on arriving at the central square finds his young protege, 
 the Chevalier d'Harmental, who presents to him the sword 
 of Albemarle, whom he has just taken prisoner. 
 
 At this moment the approach of Eugene is announced. 
 Villars returns, reaches before his arrival the bridge over 
 which he must pass, takes possession of it, and awaits him. 
 There the real battle takes place, for the taking of Denain 
 had been but a short skirmish. Eugene makes attack after 
 attack, returning seven times to the head of the bridge, 
 where the artillery and bayonets by which it is defended 
 repel his best troops with serious losses. At length, his 
 clothes riddled with balls, bleeding from two wounds, he 
 mounts his third horse, and the conqueror of Hochstett 
 and Malplaquet retreats, weeping with rage, and biting his 
 gloves with fury. In six hours the whole aspect of affairs 
 has changed, — France is saved, and Louis XIV. is still 
 the great king. 
 
 D'Harmental had conducted himself like a man who 
 wished to gain his spurs at once. Villars, seeing him 
 covered with blood and dust, recalled to mind by whom 
 the young man had been recommended to him, and made 
 him draw near, while in the midst of the field of battle 
 he wrote on a drum the result of the day's fighting. 
 
26 LE CHEVALIER D'HARMENTAL. 
 
 " Are you wounded 1 " he asked. 
 
 " Yes, Monsieur le Marechal, but so slightly that it is 
 not worth speaking of." 
 
 " Have you the strength to ride sixty leagues, without 
 resting an hour, a minute, a second % " 
 
 " I have the strength for anything that will serve the 
 king or you." 
 
 " Then set out instantly, go to Madame de Maintenon, 
 tell her from me what you have seen, and announce to her 
 the courier who will bring the official account. If she 
 wishes to conduct you to the king, go with her." 
 
 D'Harmental understood the importance of the mission 
 with which ha was charged ; and bleeding and dusty as he 
 was, he mounted a fresh horse and gained the first stage. 
 Twelve hours later he was at Versailles. 
 
 Villars had foreseen what would happen. At the first 
 words which fell from the mouth of the chevalier, Ma- 
 dame de Maintenon took him by the hand and conducted 
 him to the king. The king was at work, with Voisin, in 
 his bedchamber, — contrary to his custom, for he was 
 somewhat indisposed. 
 
 Madame de Maintenon opened the door, pushed D'Har- 
 mental to the feet of the king, and raising her hands to 
 heaven, " Sire," said she, " give thanks to God ! for your 
 Majesty knows we are nothing by ourselves, and every 
 blessing comes from Him." 
 
 " What has happened, Monsieur 1 Speak ! " said the 
 king, quickly, astonished to see this young man, whom 
 ho did not know, at his feet. 
 
 " Sire," replied the chevalier, " the camp at Denain is 
 taken. Albemarle is a prisoner. Prince Eugene has 
 taken flight; and the Marechal de Villars places his 
 victory at your Majesty's feet." 
 
 Louis XIV. turned pale, in spite of his command over 
 
THE CHEVALIER. 27 
 
 himself. His strength failed him, and he leaned against 
 the table for support. 
 
 " What is the matter, Sire 1 " said Madame de Main- 
 tenon, hastening to him. 
 
 " Madame, I owe you everything," said Louis XIV. ; 
 " you save the king, and your friends save the kingdom." 
 
 Madame de Maintenon bowed and kissed the king's 
 hand respectfully. 
 
 Then Louis XIV., still pale and much moved, passed 
 behind the great curtain which hid the alcove containing 
 his bed, and they heard a prayer of thanksgiving. He 
 then reappeared, grave and calm, as if nothing had 
 happened. " And now, Monsieur," said he, " tell me the 
 details." 
 
 D'Harmental gave an account of that marvellous battle, 
 which came as by a miracle to save the monarchy. 
 
 "And have you nothing to tell of yourself?" asked 
 Louis XIV. " If I may judge by the blood and dust with 
 which you are yet covered, you did not remain idle." 
 
 " Sire, I did my best," said D'Harmental, bowing ; 
 "but if there is really anything to tell, I will, with 
 your permission, leave that narration to the Marechal 
 de Villars." 
 
 "It is well, young man ; and if he forgets you by 
 chance, we shall remember. You must be fatigued ; go 
 and rest. I am pleased with you." 
 
 D'Harmental retired joyously, Madame de Maintenon 
 conducting him to the door ; he kissed her hand again, 
 and hastened to profit by the royal permission. For 
 twenty-four hours he had neither eaten, drunk, nor slept. 
 On his awaking, they gave him a packet which had been 
 brought from the minister of war. It was his commission 
 as colonel. 
 
 Two months afterward peace was made. Spain gave up 
 
28 LE CHEVALIER D'HARMENTAL. 
 
 half its territory, but France remained intact. Louis XIV. 
 \ died. Two distinct and irreconcilable parties were in ex- 
 istence, — that of the bastards, centring in the Due du 
 Maine, and that of the legitimate princes, represented by 
 th Due d'Orleans. 
 
 If the Due du Maine had had the will, the persever- 
 ance, the courage, of his wife, Louise Benedicte de Conde\ 
 perhaps, supported as he was by the king's testamentary 
 directions, he might have triumphed. But he had to 
 defend himself in broad day, as he was attacked; and 
 the Due du Maine, weak in mind and heart, dangerous by 
 force of cowardice, was good for nothing except for trans- 
 actions carried on in secret. He was threatened openly, 
 so that his numberless artifices, his cunning pretences, his 
 dark and deep expedients, were useless to him. In one 
 day, and almost without a struggle, he was precipitated 
 from that height to which he had been raised by the 
 blind love of the old king. It was an ignominious fall ; 
 he retired in disorder, abandoning the regency to his rival, 
 and preserving, out of all the favors heaped upon him, only 
 the superintendence of the royal education, the command 
 of the artillery, and precedence over the dukes and peers. 
 
 The decree rendered by the parliament struck the old 
 court and all attached to it. Pere Letellier did not wait 
 to be exiled ; Madame de Maintenon took refuge at St. 
 Cyr ; and Monsieur le Due du Maine shut himself up 
 in the beautiful town of Sceaux, to continue his transla- 
 tion of Lucretius. 
 
 The Chevalier d'Harmental had followed, as an in- 
 terested observer, these different intrigues, waiting till 
 they should assume a character which would permit him 
 to take part in them. If there had been an open and 
 armed contest, he would have taken that side to which 
 gratitude called him. Too young, and as yet too chaste, — 
 
THE CHEVALIER. 29 
 
 if that word may be used in treating of politics, — to turn 
 with the wind of fortune, he remained faithful to the 
 memory of the late king, and to the ruins of the old 
 court. 
 
 His absence from the Palais Royal, round which hove? 4 
 all those who wished to take a place in the political firma- 
 ment, was interpreted as opposition ; and as he had re- 
 ceived one morning the commission which gave him a 
 regiment, so on another morning he received the decree 
 which took it from him. 
 
 D'Harmental had the ambition of his age. The only 
 career then open to a gentleman was that of arms. His 
 debut had been brilliant ; and the blow which took from 
 him, at the age of twenty-five years, all his hopes for the 
 future was profoundly painful. He hastened to Monsieur 
 de Villars, in whom he had found so warm a protector. 
 The marshal received him with the coldness of a man who 
 wishes not only to forget the past, but also to see it forgot- 
 ten.- D'Harmental understood that the old courtier was 
 about to change his skin, and retired discreetly. 
 
 Although selfishness was the ruling principle of that 
 period, the chevalier's first encounter with it was bitter 
 to him ; but he was at that happy time of life when a 
 disappointed ambition rarely occasions a deep or lasting 
 grief. 
 
 Ambition is the passion of those who have no other, 
 and the chevalier had every one proper to five-and-twenty 
 years of age. Besides, the spirit of the times did not 
 tend to melancholy ; that is a modern sentiment, spring- 
 ing from the overthrow of fortunes and the weakness of 
 man. In the eighteenth century men rarely dreamed of 
 abstract things, or aspired toward the unknown; they 
 went straight to pleasure, glory, or fortune, and all who 
 tfrere handsome, brave, or intriguing could attain them. 
 
30 LE CHEVALIER D'HARMENTAL. 
 
 Up to that time one could be happy without being 
 ashamed of it ; now mind rules matter with so high a 
 hand that men dare not avow that they are happy. 
 
 Besides, it must be admitted that joy was " in the air." 
 France seemed to be sailing, with all sails spread, in 
 search of one of those enchanted islands found on the 
 shining map of the "Arabian Nights." After the long 
 and sombre winter of Louis XI Ws old age appeared all 
 at once the joyous and brilliant spring of a young royalty. 
 Every one basked in this new sun, radiant and benevo- 
 lent, and went about buzzing and careless, like the bees 
 and butterflies on the first fine day of summer. 
 
 Pleasure, absent and proscribed for more than thirty 
 years, had returned, and was welcomed as a friend sup- 
 posed to have gone forever. From all directions she was 
 greeted with open arms and open hearts; and in the 
 fear, no doubt, that she might again disappear, there was 
 a general disposition to make the most of every moment 
 of her stay. 
 
 The Chevalier d'Harmental had retained his sadness for 
 a week. Then he had mingled again with the crowd ; 
 then the whirlpool had seized him, and had thrown him 
 at the feet of a pretty woman. For three months he had 
 been the happiest man in the world. He had forgotten 
 St. Cyr, the Tuileries, and the Palais Royal. He did not 
 know whether there was a Madame de Maintenon, a king, 
 or a regent. He knew only that it is sweet to live when 
 one is loved, and he did not see why he should not live 
 ami love forever. He was still in this dream, when, 
 as we have said, supping with his friend the Baron de 
 Valef at La Fillon's, in the Rue St. Honore', he had been 
 brutally awakened by Lafare. Lovers are often unpleas- 
 antly awakened; and we have seen that D'Harmental 
 was not more patient under that experience than others. 
 
THE CHEVALIER. 31 
 
 Impatience was especially pardonable in the chevalier, 
 because he thought he loved truly, and because, in his 
 juvenile good faith, he thought that nothing could replace 
 love in his heart. 
 
 Thus Madame d'Averne's strange but candid letter, in- 
 stead of inspiring him with the admiration which it mer- 
 ited, had at first overwhelmed him. It is the property of 
 every sorrow which overtakes us to reawaken griefs which 
 we believed dead, but which were only sleeping. The 
 soul has its scars as well as the body, and they are seldom 
 so well healed but that a new wound can reopen them. 
 
 D'Harmental again began to feel ambitious. The loss 
 of his mistress had recalled to him the loss of his regi- 
 ment. And therefore it required nothing more than the 
 second letter, so unexpected and mysterious, to divert 
 him from his grief. A lover of our days would have 
 thrown it from him with disdain, and would have despised 
 himself if he had not nursed his grief so as to make him- 
 self poetically melancholy for a week at least ; but a lover 
 during the regency was much more accommodating. Sui- 
 cide was not yet invented, and if by chance any one fell 
 into the water he did not drown so long as there was the 
 least little straw to cling to. 
 
 D'Harmental did not affect the folly of sadness. He 
 decided, sighing, it is true, that he would go to the opera 
 ball ; and for a lover betrayed in so unforeseen and cruel 
 a manner this was something. But it must be confessed, 
 to the shame of our poor species, that he was led to this 
 philosophic determination chiefly by the fact that the let- 
 ter was written in a female hand. 
 
32 LE CHEVALIER D'HARMENTAL. 
 
 CHAPTEE IV. 
 
 A BAL-MASQUE OF THE PERIOD. THE BAT. 
 
 The opera balls were then at their height. They were an 
 invention of the Chevalier de Bouillon, who obtained par- 
 don for assuming, on unintelligible grounds, the title of 
 Prince d'Auvergne, only by rendering this service to the 
 dissipated society of the time. It was he who had in- 
 vented the double flooring which put the pit on a level 
 with the stage ; and the regent, who highly appreciated 
 all good inventions, had granted him in recompense a 
 pension of six thousand francs, which was four times 
 what the "great king" had given to Corneille. That 
 beautiful hall, with its rich and grave architecture, which 
 the Cardinal de Richelieu had inaugurated with his " Mi- 
 rame," where Lulli and Quinault had presented their 
 dramas of country life, and where Moliere had himself 
 played his principal works, was this evening the rendez- 
 vous of all that was noble, rich, and elegant in the court. 
 
 D'Harmental, from a feeling of spite, very natural in 
 his situation, had taken particular pains with his toilet. 
 When he arrived, the room was already full, and he had 
 some apprehension that the mask with the violet ribbon 
 would not find him, inasmuch as the unknown had 
 neglected to assign a place of meeting ; and he congratu- 
 lated himself on having come unmasked. This resolution 
 showed great confidence in the discretion of his adver- 
 saries in the recent engagement, a word from whom would 
 have sent him before the parliament, or at least to the 
 
A BAL-MASQUE OF THE PERIOD. 33 
 
 Bastille. But so much confidence had the gentlemen of 
 that day in one another's good faith that after having in 
 the morning passed his sword through the body of one 
 of the regent's favorites, the chevalier came, without 
 hesitation, to seek an adventure at the Palais Royal. 
 The first person he saw there was the young Due de 
 Richelieu, whose name, adventures, elegance, and per- 
 haps his indiscretions, had already brought him so much 
 into fashion. It was said that two princesses of the blood 
 disputed his affections, which did not prevent Madame 
 de Nesle and Madame de Polignac from fighting with 
 pistols for him, or Madame de Sabran, Madame de Vil- 
 lars, Madame de Mouchy, and Madame de Tencin from 
 sharing his heart. 
 
 He had just joined the Marquis de Canillac, one of the 
 regent's favorites, whom, on account of the grave appear- 
 ance he affected, his Highness called his mentor. Riche- 
 lieu began to tell Canillac a story, in a loud voice, and 
 with bursts of laughter. The chevalier was acquainted 
 with the duke, but not intimately enough to interrupt 
 him in the midst of a conversation ; he was about to pass, 
 when the duke seized him by the coat. 
 
 " Pardieu I " he said, " my dear Chevalier, you are 
 welcome. I am telling Canillac an adventure which may 
 be useful to him as nocturnal lieutenant to the regent, 
 and to you as exposed to the same danger as mine. The 
 story dates from to-day, — a further merit, as I have had 
 only time to tell it to about twenty people, so that it is 
 scarcely known. Spread it ; you will oblige me, and the 
 regent also." 
 
 D'Harmental frowned. The duke had chosen his 
 
 time badly. At this moment the Chevalier de Ravanne 
 
 passed, pursuing a mask. " Ravanne ! " cried Richelieu, 
 
 " Ravanne ! " 
 
 a 
 
34 LE CHEVALIER D'HARMENTAL. 
 
 " I am not at leisure," replied the chevalier. 
 
 " Do you know where Lafare is ? " 
 
 " He has a headache." 
 
 "And Fargy?" 
 
 "He has a sprain." And Ravanne disappeared in the 
 crowd, after bowing in the most friendly manner to hia 
 adversary of the morning. 
 
 " Well, and the story 1 " asked Canillac. 
 
 " We are coming to it. Imagine that six or seven 
 months ago, when I left the Bastille, where my duel with 
 Gace" had sent me, three or four days after my reappear- 
 ance Rafe gave me a charming little note from Madame 
 de Parabere, inviting me to pass that evening with her. 
 You understand, Chevalier, that it is not at the moment 
 of leaving the Bastille that one would despise a rendez- 
 vous given by the mistress of him who holds the keys. 
 No need to inquire if I was punctual. At the time ap- 
 pointed I was there. Guess whom I found seated on the 
 sofa by her side. I give you a hundred guesses." 
 
 " Her husband ] " said Canillac. 
 
 "By no means; his Royal Highness himself. I was 
 the more astonished, as I had been admitted with some 
 mystery, as if the lady were alone ; nevertheless, as you 
 will understand, I would not allow myself to appear as- 
 tonished. I assumed a composed and modest air, like 
 yours, Canillac, and saluted the marchioness with such 
 profound respect that the regent burst out laughing. I 
 did not expect this explosion, and was, I confess, a little 
 disconcerted. I was about to sit down in a chair, but the 
 regent signed to me to sit on the sofa, on the other side 
 of the marchioness. I obeyed. ' My dear Duke,' he said, 
 'we have written to you on a serious affair. Here is 
 this poor marchioness, who, after being separated from 
 her husband for two years, finds herself in an interesting 
 
A BAL-MASQUE OF THE PERIOD. 35 
 
 situation.' The marchioness tried to blush, but finding 
 she could not, covered her face with her fan. 'At the 
 first word she told me of her position,' continued the re- 
 gent, ' I sent for D'Argenson, and asked him who could 
 be the father.' ' Oh, Monsieur, spare me ! ' said the mar- 
 chioness. ' Nonsense, my little duck ; a little patience ! 
 Do you know what the lieutenant of police answered me, 
 my dear Duke ? ' ' No,' said I, much embarrassed. ' He 
 said it was either you or I.' ' It is an atrocious calumny ! ' 
 I cried. 'Don't be excited, Duke; the marchioness has 
 confessed all.' 'Then/ I replied, 'if the marchioness has 
 confessed all, I don't see what remains for me to tell.' 
 1 Oh,' continued the regent, ' I don't ask you for details. 
 It only remains for us, as accomplices, to get each other 
 out of the scrape.' 'And what have you to fear, Mon- 
 seigneur?' I asked. 'As for myself, I know that pro- 
 tected by your Higlmess's name, I can brave all.' ' What 
 have we to fear, my dear fellow 1 ' ' The outcry of Para- 
 bere, who wants me to make him a duke.' ' Well, sup- 
 pose we make him the father,' I replied. ' Exactly,' said 
 his Highness, laughing; 'and you have had the same idea 
 as the marchioness.' ' Pardieu ! Madame,' I said, ' that is 
 an honor for me.' ' But the difficulty,' objected Madame 
 de Parabere, 'is that it is more than two years since I 
 have even spoken to the marquis ; and as he piques him- 
 self on his jealousy and severity, I don't know what may 
 happen. He has made a vow that if ever I should get 
 into the condition in which I now am, the law should 
 avenge him.' 'You see, Richelieu, this becomes rather 
 uncomfortable,' added the regent. ' Teste! I think so, 
 Monseigneur ! ' 'I have some means of coercion in my 
 hands, but they do not go so far as to force a husband to 
 be reconciled to his wife, and to receive her at his house.' 
 4 Well,' I replied, ' suppose we bring him here.' ' There 
 
36 LE CHEVALIER D'HARMENTAL. 
 
 is the difficulty.' 'Wait a moment; Madame la Mar- 
 quise, may I ask, without indiscretion, if Monsieur de 
 Parabere still has a weakness for champagne and bur- 
 gundy V 'I fear so,' said the marchioness. * Then, 
 Monseigneur, we are saved ! I invite the marquis to 
 supper, with a dozen of good fellows and charming 
 women. You send Dubois — ' i What ! Dubois ? ' 
 asked the regent. 4 Certainly ; one of us must remain 
 sober. As Dubois cannot drink, he must undertake to 
 make the marquis drink ; and when everybody is under 
 the table, he can take him away from us and do what 
 he likes with him. The rest depends on the marchioness.' 
 i Did I not tell you, Marchioness,' said the regent, clap- 
 ping his hands, ' that Eichelieu would give us good advice? 
 See here, Duke,' he continued, ' you must leave off wan- 
 dering round certain palaces; leave the old lady to die 
 quietly at St. Cyr, the lame man to rhyme at Sceaux, and 
 join yourself with us. I will give you, in my cabinet, 
 the place of that old fool D'Uxelles ; and affairs will go 
 no worse for the change.' ' Oh, yes,' I replied, ' I dare 
 say ; but the thing is impossible, — I have other views.' 
 ' Obstinate fellow ! ' murmured the regent." 
 
 " And Monsieur de Parabere 1 " asked the Chevalier 
 d'Harmontal, curious to know the end of the story. 
 
 "Oh, everything took place as we had planned. He 
 went to sleep at my house, and awoke at his wife's. He 
 made a great noise, but there was no longer any possibility 
 of crying scandal and initiating a legal process. His car- 
 riage had stopped at night at his wife's hotel, and all the 
 servants saw him enter, and saw him leave in the morn- 
 ing ; so that we have tranquilly waited for the end, &h 
 though with some impatience to know whom the child 
 would resemble, — Monsieur de Parabere, the regent, or my* 
 self. Well, the marchioness was delivered to-day at noon/ 
 
A BAL-MASQUE OF THE PERIOD. 37 
 
 " And whom does the child resemble 1 " asked Canillac. 
 
 " Noce ! " replied Richelieu, with a burst of laughter. 
 " Is n't it a good story, Marquis 1 What a pity that the 
 poor Marquis de Parabere should be so foolish as to die 
 before the denouement/ How he would have been 
 avenged for the trick we played him ! " 
 
 "Chevalier," at this moment a sweet and flute-like 
 voice whispered in D'Harmental's ear, while a little hand 
 rested on his arm, " when you have finished your conver- 
 sation with Monsieur de Richelieu, I claim my turn." 
 
 "Pardon me, Monsieur le Due," said the chevalier, 
 "but you see that I am called away." 
 
 " I will let you go on one condition." 
 
 "What is it I" 
 
 "That you will tell my story to this charming bat, 
 charging her to tell it to all the night-birds of her 
 acquaintance." 
 
 " I fear," said D'Harmental, " I shall not have time." 
 
 "Oh! so much the better for you," replied the duke, 
 freeing the chevalier, whom till then he had held by the 
 coat, "for then you must have something better to say." 
 And he turned on his heel, to take the arm of a domino, 
 who, in passing, stopped to compliment him on his 
 adventure. 
 
 D'Harmental threw a rapid glance on the mask who 
 had accosted him, in order to make sure that it was the 
 one with whom he had an appointment, and was satis- 
 fied on seeing a violet ribbon on the left shoulder. He 
 hastened, therefore, to remove himself to some distance 
 from Canillac and Richelieu, in order not to be inter- 
 rupted in a conversation which he expected to be highly 
 interesting. 
 
 The unknown, whose voice betrayed her sex, was of 
 middle height, and young, so far as one could judge from 
 
38 LE CHEVALIER D'HARMENTAL. 
 
 the elasticity of her movements. As to her stature and 
 form, as to all that which the eye of the observer is so 
 curious to discover in such cases, it was useless to specu- 
 late, — the study promised so small result. In short, as 
 the word dropped by Monsieur de Richelieu has already 
 indicated, she had adopted the costume best calculated to 
 hide either graces or defects ; she was dressed as a bat, — 
 a costume much in vogue at that period, and very con- 
 venient by reason of its remarkable simplicity, since it 
 consisted only of two black skirts. The manner of em- 
 ploying them was at the command of everybody. One 
 was fastened, as usual, round the waist ; the masked head 
 was passed through the placket-hole of the other. The 
 front was pulled down to make wings ; the back raised to 
 make horns. Any one could be almost certain thus to 
 puzzle an interlocutor, who could recognize him only upon 
 the closest scrutiny. 
 
 The chevalier made all these observations in less time 
 than it has taken to describe them ; but having no knowl- 
 edge of the person with whom he had to deal, and believ- 
 ing it to be some love intrigue, he hesitated to speak, 
 when, turning toward him, "Chevalier," said the mask, 
 without disguising her voice, assuming that it was 
 unknown to him, " do you know that I am doubly grate- 
 ful to you for having come, particularly in the state of 
 mind in which you are 1 It is unfortunate that I cannot 
 attribute this exactitude to anything but curiosity." 
 
 "Beautiful mask," answered D'Harmental, "did you 
 not tell me in your letter that you were a good genius'? 
 Now, if really you partake of a superior nature, the past, 
 the present, and the future must be known to you. You 
 knew, then, that I should come ; and since you knew it, 
 my coming ought not to astonish you." 
 
 " Alas ! " replied the unknown, "it is easy to see that 
 
A BAL-MASQUE OF THE PERIOD. 39 
 
 you are a weak mortal, and that you are happy enough 
 never to have raised yourself above your sphere. Other- 
 wise you would know that if we, as you say, know the 
 past, the present, and the future, this science is silent as 
 to what regards ourselves ; and the things buried in the 
 deepest obscurity are those which we most desire to know." 
 
 " Diable / Monsieur le Genie," answered D'Harmental, 
 " do you know that you will make me very vain if you 
 continue in that tone ? For, take care ! you have told 
 me, or nearly so, that you had a great desire that I should 
 come to your rendezvous." 
 
 " I did not think I was telling you anything new, 
 Chevalier. It appeared to me that my letter would leave 
 you no doubt as to the desire I felt of seeing you." 
 
 " This desire, which I admit only because you declare 
 it, and I am too gallant to contradict you, — has it not 
 made you promise in your letter more than is in your 
 power to perform 1 ?" 
 
 " Make a trial of my science ; that will give you a test 
 of my power." 
 
 " Oh, moil Dieu ! I will confine myself to the simplest 
 thing. You say you are acquainted with the past, the 
 present, and the future. Tell me my fortune." 
 
 " Nothing easier. Give me your hand ! " 
 
 D'Harmental did what was asked of him. 
 
 "Sire Chevalier," said the stranger, after a moment's 
 examination, " I see very legibly written by the direction 
 of the adductor muscle, and by the arrangement of the 
 longitudinal lines of the palm, five words, in which are 
 included the history of your life. These words are, cour- 
 age, ambition, disappointment, love, and treachery" 
 
 " Peste /" interrupted the chevalier, " I did not know 
 that the genii studied anatomy so deeply, and were obliged 
 to take their degrees like a Bachelor of Salamanca." 
 
40 LE CHEVALIER D'HARMENTAL. 
 
 "Genii know all that men know, and many othei 
 things besides, Chevalier." 
 
 " Well, then, what mean these words, at once so sono- 
 rous and so opposite ; and what do they teach you of me 
 in the past, my very learned genius 1 " 
 
 " They teach me that it is by your courage alone that 
 you gained the rank of colonel, which you held in the 
 army of Flanders ; that this rank awakened your ambi- 
 tion; that this ambition has been followed by a disap- 
 pointment; that you hoped to console yourself for this 
 disappointment by love; but that love, like fortune, is 
 subject to treachery, and that you have been betrayed." 
 
 " Not bad," said the chevalier ; " and the Sibyl of 
 Cuniffi could not have got out of it better. A little 
 vague, as in all horoscopes, but a great fund of truth, 
 nevertheless. Let us come to the present, beautiful 
 mask." 
 
 "The present, Chevalier? Let us speak softly of it, 
 for it smells terribly of the Bastille." 
 
 The chevalier started in spite of himself, for he be- 
 lieved that no one except the actors who had played a 
 part in it could know his adventure of the morning. 
 
 "There are at this hour," continued the stranger, "two 
 brave gentlemen lying sadly in their beds, while we chat 
 gayly at the ball ; and that because a certain Chevalier 
 d'Harmental, a great listener at doors, did not remember 
 a hemistich of Virgil." 
 
 "And what is this hemistich V* asked the chevalier, 
 more and more astonished. 
 
 " ' Facilis descensus A verm,' " said the Bat, laughing. 
 
 " My dear genius," cried the chevalier, trying to peep 
 through the openings in the stranger's mask, " that, allow 
 me to inform you, is a quotation rather masculine." 
 
 " Do you not know that genii are of both sexes 1 " 
 
A BAL-MASQUE OF THE PERIOD. 41 
 
 " Yes ; but I had never heard that they quoted the 
 Mneid so fluently." 
 
 " Is not the quotation appropriate 1 You speak to me 
 of the Sibyl of Cuinse ; I answer you in her language. 
 You ask for something positive ; I give it to you. But 
 you mortals are never satisfied." 
 
 " No ; for I confess that this knowledge of the past and 
 the present inspires me with an oppressive desire to know 
 the future." 
 
 " There are always two futures," said the mask ; " there 
 is the future of weak minds, and the future of strong 
 minds. God has given man free will that he may choose. 
 Your future depends on yourself." 
 
 "But we must know these two futures, that we may 
 choose the best." 
 
 "Well, there is one which awaits you somewhere in 
 the environs of Nevers, in the depth of the country, among 
 the rabbits of your warren and the fowls of your poultry- 
 yard. . This one will conduct you straight to the magis- 
 trate's bench of your parish. It is an easy ambition, and 
 you have only to let yourself go to attain it. You are on 
 the road." 
 
 " And the other 1 " replied the chevalier, visibly piqued 
 at the supposition that in any case such a future could 
 be his. 
 
 " The other," said the stranger, leaning her arm on that 
 of the young man, and fixing her eyes on him through her 
 mask, — " the other will throw you back into noise and 
 light, will make you one of the actors in the game 
 which is playing in the world, and whether you gain or 
 lose, will leave you at least the renown of a great 
 player." 
 
 " If I lose, what shall I lose % " asked the chevalier. 
 
 "Life, probably." 
 
42 LE CHEVALIER D'HARMENTAL. 
 
 The chevalier tossed his head contemptuously. 
 
 " And if I win ] " added he. 
 
 M What do you say to the rank of colonel of horse, the 
 title of Grandee of Spain, and the order of the Saint 
 Esprit, without counting the field-marshal's baton in the 
 future?" 
 
 " I say that the prize is worth the stake, and that if you 
 can prove to me that you can keep your promise, I am 
 your man." 
 
 "This proof," replied the mask, "must be given you 
 by another ; and if you wish to have it, you must follow 
 me." 
 
 " Oh," said D'Harmental, " am I deceived, and are you 
 but a genius of the second order, — - a subaltern spirit, an 
 intermediate power 1 Diable I this would take away a 
 little of my consideration for you." 
 
 "What does it matter if I am subject to some great 
 enchantress, and she has sent me to you 1 " 
 
 " I warn you that I do not treat with ambassadors." 
 
 " And therefore my mission is to conduct you to her." 
 
 " Then I shall see her 1 " 
 
 " Face to face, as Moses saw the Lord." 
 
 " Let us go, then." 
 
 " Chevalier, you go quickly to the work ; you forget 
 that before all initiations there are certain indispensable 
 ceremonies to secure the discretion of the initiated." 
 
 "What must I do?" 
 
 " You must allow your eyes to be bandaged, and let me 
 lead you where I like. When arrived at the door of the 
 temple, you must take a solemn oath to reveal nothing 
 concerning the things you may hear, or the persons you 
 may see." 
 
 " I am ready to swear by the Styx," said D'Harmental, 
 laughing. 
 
A BAL- MASQUE OF THE PERIOD. 43 
 
 " No, Chevalier," said the mask, in a grave voice ; 
 "swear only by your honor. You are known, and that 
 will suffice." 
 
 " And when I have taken this oath," asked the cheva- 
 lier, after an instant's reflection, " will it be permitted to 
 me to retire, if the proposals made are not such as a gen- 
 tleman may entertain 1 " 
 
 "Your conscience will be your sole arbiter, and your 
 word the only pledge demanded of you." 
 
 " I am ready," said the chevalier. 
 
 " Let us go, then," said the mask. 
 
 The chevalier prepared to cross the room in a straight 
 line toward the door ; but perceiving three of his friends, 
 who might have stopped him on the way, he made a turn 
 and described a curve, which, however, would bring him 
 to the same end. 
 
 " What are you doing 1 " asked the mask. 
 
 " I am avoiding some one who might detain us." 
 
 " Ah !" said the mask, " I began to fear." 
 
 " Fear what 1 " asked D'Harmental. 
 
 " To fear that your ardor was diminished in the propor- 
 tion of the diagonal to the two sides of a square." 
 
 " Pardieu ! " said D'Harmental, " this is the first time, 
 I believe, that ever a rendezvous was given to a gentleman 
 at an opera ball to talk anatomy, ancient literature, and 
 mathematics. I am sorry to say so, but you are the most 
 pedantic genius I ever met in my life." 
 
 The Bat burst out laughing, but made no reply to this 
 sally, in which was betrayed the spite of the chevalier at 
 not being able to recognize a person who appeared to be 
 so well acquainted with his adventures ; but as this only 
 added to his curiosity, both descended in equal haste, and 
 found themselves in the vestibule. 
 
 " What road shall we take 1 " asked the chevalier. 
 
44 LE CHEVALIER D'HARMENTAL. 
 
 " Shall we travel underground, or in a car drawn by 
 griffins T' 
 
 " With your permission, Chevalier, we will simply go 
 in a carriage. In fact, and though more than once you 
 have seemed to doubt it, I am a woman, and I am rather 
 afraid of the dark." 
 
 " Permit me, then, to call my carriage," said the 
 chevalier. 
 
 " Not at all ; I have my own." 
 
 "Call it, then." 
 
 " With your permission, Chevalier, we will not be more 
 proud than Mahomet with the mountain ; and as my 
 carriage cannot come to us, we will go to it." 
 
 At these words the Bat drew the chevalier into the Kue 
 St. Honore. A carriage without armorial bearings, with 
 two dark-colored horses, waited at the corner of the street. 
 The coachman was on his seat, enveloped in a great cape 
 which hid the lower part of his face, while a three-cornered 
 hat covered his forehead and eyes. A footman held the 
 door open with one hand, and with the other held his 
 handkerchief so as to conceal his face. 
 
 " Get in," said the mask. 
 
 D'Harmental hesitated a moment. Those two servants 
 without livery, who seemed as anxious as their mistress 
 to preserve their incognito ; the carriage without blazon ; 
 the obscure place where it was drawn up ; and the ad- 
 vanced hour of the night, — all inspired the chevalier with 
 a very natural sentiment of mistrust ; but reflecting that 
 he gave his arm to a woman, and had a sword by his side, 
 he got in boldly. The Bat sat down by him, and the 
 footman closed the door. 
 
 " Well, are we not going to start 1 " said the chevalier, 
 seeing that the carriage remained motionless. 
 
 "There remains a little precaution to be taken," 
 
A BAL-MASQUE OF THE PERIOD. 45 
 
 said the mask, drawing a silk handkerchief from her 
 pocket. 
 
 "Ah, yes, true," said D'Harmental ; "I had forgotten. 
 I give myself up to you with confidence." And he ad- 
 vanced his head. 
 
 The unknown bandaged his eyes, then said, " Cheva- 
 lier, you give me your word of honor not to move this 
 bandage till permission is given you to take it off 
 altogether?" 
 
 " I do." 
 
 "It is well." 
 
 Then, raising the glass in front, she said to the coach- 
 man, " You know where, Monsieur le Comte." And the 
 horses started off at a gallop. 
 
46 LE CHEVALIER D'HARMENTAL. 
 
 CHAPTEK V. 
 
 THE ARSENAL. 
 
 As the conversation had been animated at the ball, so the 
 silence was absolute during the ride. This adventure, 
 which at first had presented itself under the appearance of 
 an amorous intrigue, had immediately assumed a graver 
 aspect, and appeared to turn toward political machinations. 
 If this new aspect did not frighten the chevalier, at least 
 it gave him matter for reflection ; and his reflections were 
 the more profound because more than once he had dreamed 
 of what he would do under circumstances like those he 
 was about to encounter. 
 
 There is a moment in the life of every man which de- 
 cides upon his future. This moment, important as it is, 
 is rarely prepared by calculation or directed by will. It 
 is almost always chance which takes a man as the wind 
 does a leaf, and throws him into some new and unknown 
 path, where, once entered, he is obliged to obey a su- 
 perior force, and where, while believing himself free, he 
 is but the slave of circumstances and the plaything of 
 events. 
 
 It was thus with the chevalier? We have seen by what 
 gate he entered Versailles, and how interest and gratitude 
 attached him to the party of the old court. He had not 
 calculated the good or the harm that Madame de Main- 
 tenon had done to France; he had not considered the 
 right or the power of Louis XIV. to legitimatize his 
 bastard sons; he had not weighed in the balance of 
 
THE ARSENAL. 47 
 
 genealogy Monsieur du Maine and Monsieur d'Orleans ; he 
 had felt only that he must devote his life to those who 
 had raised him from obscurity. And when the old king 
 was dead ; when he learned that one of his last wishes was 
 that Monsieur le Due du Maine should be regent ; when 
 he had seen those last wishes overruled by the parlia- 
 ment, — he had regarded as a usurpation Monsieur le Due 
 d'Orleans's accession to the regency. 
 
 Fully expecting an armed reaction against this power, 
 he had looked around through all France to see the 
 standard unfolded which his conscience told him he ought 
 to follow. But to his great astonishment nothing that 
 he expected happened. Spain, so much interested to 
 have a willing friend at the head of the French govern- 
 ment, had not even protested; Monsieur du Maine, 
 fatigued by his brief contest, had retired into the shide ; 
 Monsieur de Toulouse, good, easy, and almost ashamed of 
 the favors which had fallen to the share of himself and 
 his brother, would not permit even the supposition that 
 he could put himself at the head of a party. The Marechal 
 de Villeroy had made a feeble and unorganized opposition. 
 Villars went to no one, but waited for some one to come 
 to him. D'Uxelles had changed sides, and had accepted 
 the post of secretary for. foreign affairs. The dukes and 
 peers continued patient, and paid court to the regent, in 
 the hope that he would at last take away from the Dukes 
 of Maine and Toulouse, as he had promised, the precedence 
 which Louis XIV. had given them. 
 
 Finally there was discontent with, and even opposition 
 to, the government of the Due d'Orleans, but all im- 
 palpable and disjointed. This is what D'Harmental had 
 seen, and what had resheathed his half-drawn sword : he 
 thought he was the only one who had anticipated another 
 issue to affairs, and he gradually came to the conclusion 
 
48 LE CHEVALIER D'HARMENTAL. 
 
 that that issue had no existence except in his own imagi- 
 nation, since those who should have been most interested 
 in that result seemed to regard it as so impossible that 
 they did not even attempt to attain to it. 
 
 But when he found himself deceived ; when upon that 
 smiling surface he saw grave events in preparation ; when 
 he saw that that apparent carelessness was only a veil 
 concealing the operation of ambition, — then his hopes, 
 which he had thought dead, but which were only sleep- 
 ing, murmured, on their awaking, promises more seductive 
 than ever before. Those offers made to him, even though 
 perhaps exaggerated, that future promised him, improbable 
 as it might be, had excited his imagination. Now, to one 
 twenty-six years of age, imagination is a strange enchan- 
 tress ; it is the architect of castles in the air ; it is the 
 fairy of golden dreams ; it is the queen of the kingdom 
 without bounds ; and while it rests gigantic expectations 
 on the frailest support, it trusts to them as if they were 
 based on the earth's solidity. 
 
 Although the carriage had been on the road nearly half 
 an hour, the chevalier had not found the journey long ; 
 so deep were his reflections that even if his eyes had not 
 been bandaged, he would have been equally ignorant of 
 what streets they passed through. At length he heard 
 the wheels rumbling as if they were passing under an 
 arch. He heard the grating of hinges as the gate opened 
 to admit him and closed behind him, and directly after, 
 the carriage, having described a semi-circle, stopped. 
 
 " Chevalier," said his guide, " if you have any fear, 
 there is still time to draw back ; if, on the contrary, you 
 have not changed your resolution, come with me." 
 
 D'HarmentaVs only answer was to extend his hand. 
 The footman opened the door; the unknown got out 
 first, and then assisted the chevalier. His feet soon 
 
THE ARSENAL. 49 
 
 encountered some steps ; he mounted six, — still con- 
 ducted by the masked lady, — crossed a vestibule, passed 
 through a corridor, and entered a room. 
 
 " We have now arrived," said the unknown. " You 
 remember our conditions : you are free to accept or refuse 
 a part in the piece about to be played ; but in case of a 
 refusal, you promise not to divulge anything you may see 
 or hear." 
 
 "I swear it on my honor," replied the chevalier. 
 
 " Now, sit down ; wait in this room, and do not re- 
 move the bandage till you hear two o'clock strike. You 
 have not long to wait." 
 
 With these words his conductress left him. Two o'clock 
 soon struck, and the chevalier tore off the bandage. He 
 was alone in the most marvellous boudoir possible to 
 imagine. It was small and octagonal, hung with lilac and 
 silver, with furniture and portieres of tapestry. His eyes 
 rested on buhl tables covered with splendid china, a Per- 
 sian carpet, and a ceiling painted by Watteau, who was 
 then coming into fashion. At this sight the chevalier 
 found it difficult to believe that he had been summoned 
 on grave matters, and almost returned to his first ideas. 
 
 At this moment a door hidden by the tapestry was 
 opened, and there appeared a woman whom, in the fan- 
 tastic preoccupation of his spirit, D'Harmental might 
 have taken for a fairy, so slight, small, and delicate was 
 her figure. She was dressed in pearl-gray satin cov- 
 ered with bouquets, so beautifully embroidered that at a 
 short distance they appeared like natural flowers ; the 
 flounces, ruffles, and head-dress were of English point, 
 adorned with pearls and diamonds. Her face was cov- 
 ered with a half-mask of black velvet, from which hung 
 a fringe of black lace. 
 
 D'Harmental bowed, for there was something royal in 
 
 4 
 
50 LE CHEVALIER D'HARMENTAL. 
 
 the motions and the appearance of this woman, which 
 showed him that the other had been only an envoy. 
 " Madame," said he, " have I really, as I begin to believe, 
 left the earth for the land of spirits, and are you the pow- 
 erful fairy to whom this beautiful palace belongs?" 
 
 " Alas, Chevalier ! " replied the masked lady, in gentle 
 and yet positive tones, "lam not a powerful fairy, but 
 on the contrary a poor princess, persecuted by a wicked 
 enchanter, who has taken from me my crown, and cruelly 
 oppresses my kingdom. Therefore I am searching every- 
 where for a brave knight to deliver me ; and your renown 
 has led me to address myself to you." 
 
 " If my life only is needed to restore you your past 
 power, Madame," replied D'Harmental, " speak ; I am 
 ready to risk it with joy. Who is this enchanter that I 
 must combat, — this giant that I must destroy 1 Since 
 you have chosen me above all, I will prove myself worthy 
 of the honor. From this moment I engage my word, 
 even if it costs me my life." 
 
 " If you lose your life, Chevalier, it will be in good 
 company," said the lady, untying her mask, and discov- 
 ering her face ; "for you will lose it with the son of Louis 
 XIV. and the granddaughter of the great Conde." 
 
 " Madame la Duchesse du Maine ! " cried D'Harmental, 
 falling on one knee. " Will your Highness pardon me 
 if, not knowing you, I have said anything which may fall 
 short of the profound respect I feel for you 1 " 
 
 "You have said nothing for which I am not proud and 
 grateful, Chevalier ; but perhaps you now repent. If so, 
 you are at liberty to withdraw." 
 
 " Heaven forbid, Madame, that having had the good 
 fortune to engage my life in the service of so great and 
 noble a princess, I should deprive myself of the greatest 
 honor I ever dared to hope for ! No, Madame ; accept 
 
THE ARSENAL. 51 
 
 seriously, I pray you, what just now I offered with a 
 smile, — my arm, my sword, and my life." 
 
 " I see," said the Duchesse du Maine, with that smile 
 which gave her such power over all who approached her, 
 "that the Baron de Valef did not deceive me, and that 
 you are all that he said in describing you. Come, I will 
 present you to our friends." 
 
 The duchess went first, and D'Harmental followed, aston- 
 ished at what had taken place, but fully resolved, partly from 
 pride, partly from conviction, to take no step backward. 
 
 The duchess conducted him to a salon where four 
 personages awaited him. These were the Cardinal de 
 Polignac, the Marquis de Pompadour, Monsieur de 
 Malezieux, and the Abbe Brigaud. 
 
 The Cardinal de Polignac was supposed to be the lover 
 of Madame du Maine. He was a handsome prelate, from 
 forty to forty -five years of age, — always dressed with the 
 greatest care ; possessed of an unctuous voice, a cold face, 
 and a timid heart ; devoured by ambition, which was con- 
 stantly thwarted by hesitancy in action • of high birth, as 
 his name indicated ; very learned for a cardinal, and very 
 well-informed for a nobleman. 
 
 Monsieur de Pompadour was a man of from forty-five 
 to fifty years old, who had been a minion of the dauphin, 
 the son of Louis XIV., and who had so deep love and so 
 tender veneration for all the family of the "great king" 
 that seeing with grief that the regent was about to de- 
 clare war against Philip V., he had thrown himself, body 
 and soul, into the Due du Maine's party. Proud and dis- 
 interested, he had given a rare example of loyalty in 
 sending back to the regent the brevet of his pensions and 
 those of his wife, and in refusing for himself and the Mar- 
 quis de Courcillon, his son-in-law, every place offered to 
 them. 
 
D'2 LE CHEVALIER D'HARMENTAL. 
 
 Monsieur de Malezieux was a man from sixty to sixty- 
 five } r ears old, Chancellor of Dombes and Lord of Chatenay. 
 He owed this double title to the gratitude of Monsieur le 
 Due du Maine, whose education he had conducted. A 
 poet, a musician, an author of small comedies, which he 
 played himself with infinite spirit ; born for an idle and 
 intellectual life ; always occupied in procuring pleasure 
 for others, and, above all, for Madame du Maine, whom he 
 adored, — he was a type of the Sybarite of the eighteenth 
 century ; but like the Sybarites who, drawn by the aspect 
 of beauty, followed Cleopatra to Actium and were killed 
 around her, he would have followed his dear Benedicte 
 through fire and water, and at a word from her would 
 without hesitation, and almost without regret, have 
 thrown himself from the towers of Notre Dame. 
 
 The Abbe Brigaud was the son of a Lyons merchant. 
 His father, who was commercially related with the court 
 of Spain, was charged to make* overtures, as if on his own 
 account, for the marriage of the young Louis XIV. with 
 the Infanta Maria Theresa of Austria. If these overtures 
 had been badly received, the ministers of France would 
 have disavowed them ; but they were well received, and 
 they supported them. 
 
 The marriage took place ; and as the little Brigaud was 
 born about the same time as the dauphin, his father 
 asked, in recompense for his services, that the king's son 
 should stand godfather to his child, and that favor 
 was graciously accorded to him. Moreover, the young 
 Brigaud was placed near the dauphin, and thus he be- 
 came acquainted with the Marquis de Pompadour, who, 
 as we have said, was one of the pages of honor. When 
 he was of an age to decide on his profession, he joined the 
 Fathers of the Oratory, and became an abbe. He was a 
 clever and an ambitious man, but as often happens to 
 
THE ARSENAL. 53 
 
 the greatest geniuses, he had never had an opportunity 
 of making himself known. 
 
 Some time before the period of which we are writing, 
 he had again fallen in with the Marquis de Pompadour, 
 who was seeking a man of spirit and enterprise to be the 
 secretary of Madame du Maine. The marquis frankly 
 showed Brigaud to what perils the situation would expose 
 him in the existing condition of affairs. Brigaud weighed 
 for an instant the good and the evil chances, and as the 
 former appeared to predominate, he accepted the position.* 
 
 Of these four men, D'Harmental was personally ac- 
 quainted with only the Marquis de Pompadour, whom he 
 had often met at the house of Monsieur de Courcillon, his 
 son-in-law, a distant relative of the D'Harmentals. 
 
 When D'Harmental entered the room, Monsieur de 
 Polignac, Monsieur de Malezieux, and Monsieur de Pom- 
 padour were standing talking at the fireplace, and the 
 Abbe Brigaud was seated at a table arranging some 
 papers. 
 
 " Gentlemen," said the Duchesse du Maine, " here is 
 the brave champion of whom the Baron de Valef has 
 spoken to us, and who has been brought here by your 
 dear De Launay, Monsieur de Malezieux. If his name 
 and antecedents are not sufficient to stand sponsor for 
 him, I will answer for him personally." 
 
 " Presented thus by your Highness," said Malezieux, 
 " we shall see in him not only a companion, but a chief, 
 whom we are ready to follow wherever he may lead." 
 
 " My dear D'Harmental," said the Marquis de Pompa- 
 dour, extending his hand to him, " we were already rela- 
 tives, now we are brothers." 
 
 " Welcome, Monsieur ! " said the Cardinal de Polignac, 
 in the unctuous tone habitual to him, and which con- 
 trasted so strangely with the coldness of his countenance. 
 
54 LE CHEVALIER D'HARMENTAL. 
 
 The Abbe Brigaud raised his head, turned it toward 
 the chevalier with a movement of the neck like that of a 
 serpent, and fixed on D'Harmental two little eyes, brilliant 
 as those of the lynx. 
 
 " Gentlemen," said D'Harmental, after answering each 
 of them by a bow, "I am new and strange among you, 
 and, above all, ignorant of what is going on, or in what 
 manner I can serve you ; but though my word has been 
 engaged to you for only a few minutes, my devotion to 
 your cause is of many years' standing. I beg you, there- 
 fore, to grant me the confidence so graciously claimed 
 for me by her Highness. All that I shall ask after that 
 will be a speedy occasion to prove myself worthy 
 of it." 
 
 " Well said ! " cried the Duchesse du Maine ; " com- 
 mend me to a soldier for going straight to the point ! 
 J^o, Monsieur d'Harmental, we will have no secrets 
 from you ; and for the opportunity you require, which 
 will place each of us in our proper position, we shall 
 not, I hope, have long to wait." 
 
 " Pardon, Madame la Duchesse," interrupted the car- 
 dinal, who was playing uneasily with his lace cravat, 
 "but from the way you talk, the chevalier will think 
 that the affair is a conspiracy." 
 
 " And what is it, then, Cardinal ? " asked the duchess, 
 impatiently. 
 
 " It is," said the cardinal, " a council, — secret, it is true, 
 but in no degree reprehensible, — in which we only seek 
 a means of remedying the misfortunes of the State, and 
 enlightening France on her true interests, by recalling the 
 last will of King Louis XIV." 
 
 "Stay, Cardinal!" said the duchess, stamping her 
 foot ; " you will kill me with impatience by your cir- 
 cumlocutions ! Chevalier," she continued, addressing 
 
THE ARSENAL. 55 
 
 D'Harmental, "do not listen to his Eminence, who at 
 this moment, doubtless, is thinking of his ' Anti-Lucrece.' 
 If it had been a simple council, the talents of his Emi- 
 nence would soon have extricated us from our troubles, 
 and we should have had no need of you. But it is a 
 genuine conspiracy against the regent, — a conspiracy 
 which includes the King of Spain, Cardinal Alberoni, 
 the Due du Maine, myself, the Marquis de Pompadour, 
 Monsieur de Malezieux, l'Abbe Brigaud, Valef, yourself, 
 the cardinal himself, who is the president, and. which 
 will include half the parliament and three parts of France. 
 This is the matter in hand, Chevalier. Are you content, 
 Cardinal? Have I spoken clearly, gentlemen? " 
 
 " Madame ! " murmured Malezieux, joining his hands 
 before her with more devotion than he would have mani- 
 fested before the Virgin. 
 
 "No, no ! stop, Malezeiux ! " said the duchess; "but 
 the cardinal enrages me with his , half-measures. Mori 
 Dieu! are these eternal waverings worthy of a man 1 ? 
 For myself, I do not ask a sword, I do not ask a dagger ; 
 give me but a nail, and I, a woman, and almost a dwarf, 
 will go, like a new Jael, and drive it into the temple of 
 this other Sisera. Then all will be finished ; and if I 
 fail, no one but myself will be compromised." 
 
 Monsieur de Polignac sighed deeply ; Pompadour burst 
 out laughing ; Malezieux tried to calm the duchess ; and 
 Brigaud bent his head, and went on writing as if he had 
 heard nothing. As to D'Harmental, he would have kissed 
 the hem of her dress, so superior was this woman in his 
 eyes to the four men who surrounded her. 
 
 At this moment they heard the sound of a carriage, 
 which drove into the courtyard and stopped at the door. 
 The person expected was doubtless some one of import- 
 ance, for there was an instant silence, and the Duchesse 
 
56 LE CHEVALIER D'HARMENTAL. 
 
 du Maine, in her impatience, went herself to open the 
 door. 
 
 "Well? "she asked. 
 
 "He is here," said a voice in the corridor, which 
 D'Harmental recognized as that of the Bat. 
 
 "Enter, enter, Prince/' said the duchess; "we wait 
 for you." 
 
THE PRINCE DE CELLAMARE. 57 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 THE PRINCE DE CELLAMARE. 
 
 Upon this invitation there entered a tall, thin, grave man, 
 of dark complexion, who at a single glance took in every- 
 thing in the room, animate and inanimate. The chevalier 
 recognized the ambassador of their Catholic Majesties, the 
 Prince de Cellamare. 
 
 " Well, Prince," asked the duchess, " what have you to 
 tell us?" 
 
 "I have to tell you, Madame," replied the prince, 
 kissing her hand respectfully, and throwing his cloak on 
 a v chair, "that your serene Highness had better change 
 coachmen. I predict misfortune if you retain in your 
 service the fellow who drove me here. He seems to me 
 to be some one employed by the regent to break your 
 Highness's neck and those of your friends." 
 
 Every one began to laugh, and particularly the coach- 
 man himself, who, without ceremony, had entered behind 
 the prince. Throwing his hat and cloak on a seat, he 
 showed himself a man of high bearing, from thirty-five 
 to forty years old, with the lower part of his face hidden 
 by a black handkerchief. 
 
 "Do you hear, my dear Laval, what the prince says 
 of you?" asked the duchess. 
 
 " Yes, yes," said Laval ; " it is worth while to give him 
 Montmorencies to be treated like that. Ah, Monsieur le 
 Prince, the first gentlemen in France are not good enough 
 for your coachmen? Pestef you are difficult to please. 
 
58 LE CHEVALIER D'HARMENTAL. 
 
 Have you many coachmen at Naples who date from 
 Robert le Fort]" 
 
 " What ! was it you, my dear Count? " said the prince, 
 holding out his hand to him. 
 
 " Myself, Prince. Madame la Duchesse sent away her 
 coachman to keep Lent with his family, and engaged me 
 for this night. She thought it safer." 
 
 " And Madame la Duchesse did right," said the car- 
 dinal. "One cannot take too many precautions." 
 
 "Ah, your Eminence," said Laval, "I should like to 
 know if you would be of the same opinion after passing 
 half the night on the box of a carriage, first to bring Mon- 
 sieur d'Harniental from the opera ball, and then to take 
 the prince from the Hotel Colbert." 
 
 " What ! " said D'Harmental, " was it you, Monsieur le 
 Comte, who had the goodness — " 
 
 " Yes, young man," replied Laval, " it was I ; and I 
 would have gone to the end of the world to bring you 
 here, for I know you. You are a gallant gentleman ; you 
 were one of the first to enter Denain, and you took Albe- 
 marle. You were fortunate enough not to leave half your 
 jaw there, as I left half of mine in Italy. It would have 
 been a further motive for taking away your regiment — 
 which they have done, however, without that reason." 
 
 " We will restore you that, Chevalier, a hundredfold, 
 you may be assured," said the duchess ; " but now let us 
 speak of Spain. Prince, you have news from Alberoni, 
 Pompadour tells me." 
 
 " Yes, your Highness." 
 
 "What is iU" 
 
 "Both good and bad. His Majesty Philip V. is in 
 one of his melancholy moods, and will not determine 
 upon anything. He will not believe in the treaty of 
 the quadruple alliance." 
 
THE PRINCE DE CELLAMARE. 59 
 
 *' Will not believe in it ! " cried the duchess ; " and the 
 treaty ought to be signed now. In a week Dubois will 
 have brought it here." 
 
 " I know it, your Highness," replied Cellamare, coldly ; 
 " but his Catholic Majesty does not." 
 
 " Then he abandons us to ourselves % " 
 
 " Why — yes, practically." 
 
 " What becomes, then, of the queen's fine promises, and 
 the empire she pretends to have over her husband 1 " 
 
 " She promises to prove it to you, Madame," replied the 
 prince, " when something is done." 
 
 " Yes," said the Cardinal de Polignac ; " and then she 
 will fail in that promise." 
 
 " No, your Eminence ; I will answer for her." 
 
 " What I see most clearly in all this," said Laval, " is 
 that we must compromise the king. Once compromised, 
 he must go on/ 
 
 " Now, then," said Cellamare, " we are coming to 
 business." 
 
 " But bow to compromise him," asked the Duchesse du 
 Maine, " without a letter from him, without even a verbal 
 message, and at five hundred leagues' distance % " 
 
 " Has he not his representative at Paris, and is not 
 that representative in your house at this very moment, 
 Madame \ " 
 
 " Prince," said the duchess, " you have more extended 
 powers than you are willing to admit." 
 
 " No ; my powers are limited to telling you that the 
 citadel of Toledo and the fortress of Saragossa are at your 
 service. Find the means of making the regent enter there, 
 and their Catholic Majesties will close the door on him 
 so securely that he will not leave it again, I promise 
 you." 
 
 " It is impossible," said Monsieur de Polignac. 
 
GO LE CHEVALIER D'HARMENTAL. 
 
 "Impossible! and why?" cried D'Harmental. "On 
 the contrary, what is more simple 1 Nothing is necessary 
 but eight or ten determined men, a well-closed carriage, 
 and relays to Bayonne." 
 
 " I have already offered to undertake it," said Laval. 
 
 " And I," said Pompadour. 
 
 " You cannot," said the duchess ; " the regent knows 
 you, and if the thing failed, you would be lost." 
 
 " It is a pity," said Cellamare, coldly ; " for once 
 arrived at Toledo or Saragossa, there is greatness in 
 store for him who shall have succeeded." 
 
 " And the blue ribbon," added Madame du Maine, " on 
 his return to Paris." 
 
 " Oh, silence, I beg, Madame ! " said D'Harmental ; " for 
 if your Highness says such things, you will give to devo- 
 tion the air of ambition, and rob it of all its merit. I 
 was going to offer myself for the enterprise, — I, who am 
 unknown to the regent; but now I hesitate. And yet I 
 venture to believe myself worthy of the confidence of your 
 Highness, and able to justify it." 
 
 " What, Chevalier ! " cried the duchess, " you would 
 risk — " 
 
 " My life ; it is all I have to risk. I thought I had 
 already offered it, and that your Highness had accepted it. 
 Was I mistaken 1 " 
 
 " No, no, Chevalier," said the duchess, quickly ; " and 
 you are a brave and loyal gentleman. I have always 
 believed in presentiments; and from the moment Valef 
 pronounced your name, telling me that you were what I 
 find you to be, I had a presentiment that by your aid we 
 should succeed. Gentlemen, you hear what the chevalier 
 says ; in what can you assist him 1 " 
 - " In whatever he may want," said Laval and Pompadour. 
 
 " The coffers of their Catholic Majesties are at his dis- 
 
THE PRINCE DE CELLAMARE. 61 
 
 posal," said the Prince de Cellamare, " and he may make 
 free use of them." 
 
 " I thank you, gentlemen/ 7 said D'Harmental, turning 
 toward the Comte de Laval and the Marquis de Pompa- 
 dour ; " but known as you are, you would only make the 
 enterprise more difficult. Occupy yourselves only in ob- 
 taining for me a passport for Spain, as if I had the charge 
 of some prisoner of importance; that ought to be easy." 
 
 " I undertake it," said the Abbe Brigaud ; " I will get 
 from D'Argenson a paper all prepared, which will need 
 only to be filled in." 
 
 " Excellent Brigaud ! " said Pompadour ; " he does not 
 speak often, but he speaks to the purpose." 
 
 "It is he who should be made cardinal," said the 
 duchess, " rather than certain great noblemen of my 
 acquaintance ; but as soon as we can dispose of the blue 
 and the red, be easy, gentlemen, we shall not be miserly. 
 Now, Chevalier, you have heard what the prince said. 
 If you want money — " 
 
 " Unfortunately," replied D'Harmental, " I am not rich 
 enough to refuse his Excellency's offer, and when I have 
 arrived at the end of about a thousand pistoles which I 
 have at home, I must have recourse to you." 
 
 " To him, to me, to us all, Chevalier ; for each one in 
 such circumstances should tax himself according to his 
 means. I have little ready money, but I have many 
 diamonds and pearls; therefore want for nothing, I beg. 
 All the world has not your disinterestedness, and there 
 are services which must be bought with gold." 
 
 " But, Monsieur," said the cardinal, " have you reflected 
 on the enterprise you are undertaking? If you should 
 be caught ! " 
 
 " Your Eminence need have no concern," replied D'Har- 
 mental, contemptuously. "I have sufficient grounds of 
 
62 LE CHEVALIER D'HARMENTAL. 
 
 complaint against the regent for it to be believed, if I 
 were taken, that it was an affair between him and me, 
 and that my vengeance was entirely personal." 
 
 "But," said the Comte de Laval, "you must have an 
 assistant of some kind in this enterprise, — some one on 
 whom you can count. Have you any one?" 
 
 " I think so," replied D'Harniental. " However, I must 
 be informed every morning what the regent will do in the 
 evening. Monsieur le Prince de Cellamare, as ambassador, 
 must have his secret police." 
 
 " Yes," said the prince, embarrassed, " I have a few 
 persons who report to me — " 
 
 " That is just the thing ! " said D'Harmental. 
 
 " Where do you lodge ] " asked the cardinal. 
 
 "At my own house, Monseigneur, Rue de Richelieu, 
 No. 74." 
 
 " And how long have you lived there 1 " 
 
 " Three years." 
 
 " Then you are too well known there, Monsieur ; you 
 must change quarters. The persons who visit you there 
 are known, and the sight of strange faces would give rise 
 to questions." 
 
 " This time your Eminence is right," said D'Harmental. 
 "I will seek another lodging in some retired neighbor- 
 hood." 
 
 " I will take care of that," said Brigaud ; " my costume 
 does not excite suspicion. I will engage you a lodging 
 as if for a young man from the country, who has been 
 recommended to me, and has come to occupy a place in 
 an office." 
 
 " Truly, my dear Brigaud," said the Marquis de Pompa- 
 dour, "you are like the princess in the ' Arabian Nights,' 
 who never opened her mouth but to drop pearls." 
 
 "Well, it is a settled thing, Monsieur PAbbe," said 
 
THE PRINCE DE CELL AM ARE. 63 
 
 D'Harmental ; " I reckon on you, and I shall announce 
 at home that I am going to leave Paris for a three months' 
 trip." 
 
 "Everything is settled, then," said the Duchesse du 
 Maine, joyfully. " This is the first time that I have been 
 able to see clearly into our affairs, Chevalier, and we owe 
 it to you. I will not forget it." 
 
 " Gentlemen," said Malezieux, pulling out his watch, 
 " I would observe that it is four o'clock in the morning, 
 and that we shall kill our dear duchess with fatigue." 
 
 " You are mistaken," said the duchess ; " such nights 
 rest me, and it is long since I have spent one so pleasantly." 
 
 11 Prince," said Laval, " you must be contented with the 
 coachman whom yo.u wished discharged, unless you would 
 prefer driving yourself, or going on foot." 
 
 "No, indeed," said the prince; "I will risk it. I am 
 a Neapolitan, and believe in omens. If you overturn me, 
 it will be a sign that we must stay where we are ; if you 
 conduct me safely, it will be a sign that we may go on." 
 
 " Pompadour, will you take back Monsieur d'Har- 
 mental 1 ?" said the duchess. 
 
 " Willingly," said the marquis. " It is a long time 
 since we met, and we have a hundred things to say to 
 each other." 
 
 " Cannot I take leave of my sprightly Bat *? " asked 
 D'Harmental ; " for I do not forget that it is to her I 
 owe the happiness of having offered my services to your 
 Highness." 
 
 " De Launay ! " cried the duchess, conducting the 
 Prince de Cellamare and the Comte de Laval to the 
 door, " De Launay, here is Monsieur le Chevalier d'Har- 
 mental, who says you are the greatest sorceress he has 
 ever known." 
 
 " Well ! " said she who has left us such charming 
 
64 LE CHEVALIER D'HARMENTAL. 
 
 memoirs, under the name of Madame de Staal, " do you 
 believe in my prophecies now, Monsieur le Chevalier 1 ?" 
 
 " I believe, because I hope," replied the chevalier. 
 " But now that I know the fairy that sent you, it is not 
 your predictions that astonish me the most. How were 
 you so well informed about the past, and above all, about 
 the present V 
 
 "Well, De Launay," said the duchess, smiling, "be 
 kind, and do not torment the chevalier any longer, or he 
 will believe us to be two witches, and will be afraid 
 of us." 
 
 "Was there not one of your friends, Chevalier," asked 
 Mademoiselle de Launay, " who left you this morning in 
 the Bois de Boulogne to come and say adieu to us 1 " 
 
 "Valef! It is Valef!" cried D'Harmental. "I un- 
 derstand now." 
 
 " See, now ! " said Madame du Maine, " in the place of 
 CEdipus you would have been devoured ten times over by 
 the Sphinx." 
 
 " But the mathematics ; but the anatomy ; but Virgil 1 " 
 replied D'Harmental. 
 
 " Do you not know, Chevalier," said Malezieux, mixing 
 in the conversation, " that we never call her anything here 
 but our savante ? — with the exception of Chaulieu, who 
 calls her his flirt, and his coquette ; but all by way of 
 poetical license." 
 
 " Why," added the duchess, " the other day we let her 
 loose on Duvernoy, our doctor, and' she beat him at 
 anatomy ! " 
 
 " And," said the Marquis de Pompadour, taking D'Har- 
 mental' s arm to lead him away, " the good man, in his 
 disappointment, declared that there was no other girl in 
 France who understood the human frame so well." 
 
 " Ah," said the Abbe Brigaud, folding his papers, 
 
THE PRINCE DE CELLAMARE. 65 
 
 " here is the first savant on record who has heen known 
 to make a bon-mot. It is true, he did not intend it." 
 
 And D'Harmental and Pompadour, having taken leave 
 of the duchess, retired laughing, followed by the Abbe 
 Brigaud, who reckoned on them to drive him home. 
 
 " Well," said Madame du Maine, addressing the Cardi- 
 nal de Polignac, " does your Eminence still find it such a 
 terrible thing to conspire ? " 
 
 " Madame," replied the cardinal, who could not under- 
 stand that any one could laugh when his head was in 
 danger, " I will ask you the same question when we are 
 all in the Bastille." And he went away with the good 
 chancellor, deploring the ill-luck which had thrown him 
 into such a rash enterprise. 
 
 The duchess looked after him with a contempt which 
 she could not disguise ; then when she was alone with 
 Mademoiselle de Launay, " My dear Sophie," said she, 
 joyously, " let us put out our lantern, for I think that at 
 last we have found a man ! " 
 
66 LE CHEVALIER D'HARMENTAL. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 ALBERONI. 
 
 When D'Harmental awoke, he thought he had had a 
 dream. Events had, during the last thirty-six hours, suc- 
 ceeded one another with such rapidity that he had been 
 carried away, as by a whirlpool, without knowing whither , 
 he was going. Now, for the first time, he had leisure to - 
 reflect on the past and the future. 
 
 We are living in a time when every one has conspired 
 more or less. We know, therefore, from our own experi- 
 ence what the natural process is in such cases. After 
 entering upon an engagement in a moment of exaltation, 
 one's first feeling, as he glances at his new position, is a 
 feeling of regret for having been so forward. Then by 
 degrees one familiarizes himself with the idea of the 
 dangers to which he is exposed. Imagination, always 
 so indulgent, removes them from sight, and presents in- 
 stead the ambitions that may be fulfilled. Then pride 
 steps in ; one understands that he has suddenly become a 
 secret power in that State in which yesterday he was 
 nothing at all. He walks/ along proudly, with head erect, 
 passing contemptuously those who lead an ordinary life ; 
 he cradles himself in his hopes ; he sleeps in the clouds ; 
 and some day he wakes conquering or conquered, — car- 
 ried on the shoulders of the people, or broken by the 
 wheels of that machine called the government. 
 
 Thus it was with D'Harmental. The age in which he 
 lived saw the League on its horizon, and almost touched 
 
ALBERONI. 67 
 
 the Fronde. A single generation of men had intervened 
 since the cannon of the Bastille had supported the rebel- 
 lion of the great Conde. During that interval Louis 
 XIV. had filled the scene, it is true, with his omnipotent 
 will ; but Louis XIV. was no more, and the grandchildren 
 thought that on the same theatre of action, and with the 
 same machines, they could play the same game their 
 fathers had played. 
 
 After a few moments' reflection, D'Harmental saw 
 things in the same light in which he had seen them 
 the day before, and congratulated himself upon having 
 taken the highest place among such people as the Mont- 
 morencies and the Polignacs. His family bad transmitted 
 to him much of that adventurous chivalry so greatly in 
 vogue under Louis XIII., and which Richelieu with his 
 scaffolds, and Louis XIV. with his antechambers, had not 
 quite been able to destroy. There was something roman- 
 tic in enlisting himself, a young man, under the banners 
 of a woman, and that woman a granddaughter of the 
 great Conde. And besides, one holds so lightly to life 
 at twenty-six years of age, that he is continually risking 
 it in enterprises far less serious than that in which 
 D'Harmental had become the chief. 
 
 D'Harmental resolved to lose no time in preparing to 
 keep the promises he had made. He did not conceal 
 from himself that from that moment he belonged to him- 
 self no longer ; that the eyes of all the conspirators, from 
 Philip V. to the Abbe Brigaud, were upon him ; and that 
 on his courage and prudence depended the destinies of 
 two kingdoms and the politics of the world. 
 
 At this epoch the regent was the keystone of the arch^ 
 of the European edifice ; and France was beginning to 
 take, if not by arms, at least by diplomacy, that influence 
 which she had unfortunately not always maintained. 
 
68 LE CHEVALIER D'HARMENTAL. 
 
 Placed at the centre of the triangle formed by the three 
 great powers, with eyes fixed on Germany, one arm ex- 
 tended toward England, and the other toward Spain, 
 ready to turn on any one of these three States that should 
 not treat her according to her dignity, she had as- 
 sumed, under the Due d' Orleans, an attitude of calm 
 strength which she had never had, even under Louis 
 XIV. 
 
 This arose from the division of interests consequent on 
 the usurpation of William of Orange, and the accession of 
 Philip V. to the throne ot Spain. Faithful to his old 
 hatred against the stadtholder of Holland, who had re- 
 fused him his daughter, Louis XIV. had constantly ad- 
 vanced the pretensions of James II., and after his death, 
 of the Chevalier de Saint-George. Faithful to his com- 
 pact with Philip V., he had constantly aided his grandson 
 against the emperor, with men and money ; and weak- 
 ened by this double war, he had been reduced to the 
 shameful treaty of Utrecht. But at the death of the old 
 king all was changed, and the regent had adopted a very 
 different line of conduct. The treaty of Utrecht was only 
 a truce, which had been broken from the moment when 
 England and Holland did not pursue common interests 
 with those of France. 
 
 In consequence, the regent had first of all held out his 
 hand to George I., and the treaty of the triple alliance 
 had been signed at La Haj^e, — by Dubois in the name of 
 France, by General Cadogan for England, and by the pen- 
 sionary Heinsius for Holland. This was a great step 
 toward the pacification of Europe, but it was not final ; 
 the interests of Austria and Spain were still in suspense. 
 Charles VI.' would not recognize Philip V. as King of 
 Spain ; and Philip V., on his part, would not renounce 
 his rights over those provinces of the Spanish empire 
 
ALBERONI. 69 
 
 which the treaty of Utrecht, to the injury of the throne 
 of Philip II., had ceded to the emperor. 
 
 The regent strove, by friendly negotiations, to bring 
 Charles VI. to recognize Philip V. as King of Spain, and 
 proposed, by the use of force if necessary, to induce Philip 
 V. to abandon his pretensions to the provinces transferred 
 to the emperor. 
 
 It was in the hope of bringing these things about that 
 the regent had sent Dubois to London, where he was pro- 
 moting the treaty of the quadruple alliance with even 
 more zeal than he had bestowed on that of La Haye. 
 
 Now, this treaty of the quadruple alliance, in uniting 
 the interests of France, England, Holland, and the em- 
 pire, would nullify every claim of any other State which 
 was not approved by the four powers. In this possibility 
 were involved all the apprehensions of Philip V., or 
 rather, of Cardinal Alberoni ; for as to Philip V., if only 
 he had a woman's company and a prie-Dieu, he was but 
 little concerned with what took place elsewhere than in 
 his chamber and his chapel. 
 
 But it was not so with Alberoni. His was one of those 
 extraordinary fortunes which one sees, always with new 
 astonishment, spring up around a throne, — one of those 
 caprices of destiny which chance raises and destroys ; 
 like a gigantic waterspout, which advances on the ocean, 
 threatening to annihilate everything, but which is dis- 
 persed into vapor by a stone thrown from the hand of a 
 sailor ; or like an avalanche, which threatens to swallow 
 towns and fill up valleys, because a bird in its flight has 
 detached a flake of snow on the summit of the mountain. 
 
 A curious history might be written of great results pro- 
 duced by trivial causes from the time of the Greeks down 
 to our own day. The love of Helen brought on the Tro- 
 jan War, and changed the destiny of Greece. The viola* 
 
TO LE CHEVALIER D'HARMENTAL. 
 
 tion of Lucretia drove the Tarquina from Rome. An 
 insulted husband conducted Brennus to the Capitoline 
 Hill. La Cava introduced the Moors into Spain. A poor 
 jest written by a young fop upon the chair of an old Doge 
 nearly overthrew Venice. The escape of Dearbhorgil with 
 Mac-Murchad led to the subjugation of Ireland. The 
 order given to Cromwell to leave the vessel on which 
 he had already embarked for America resulted in the ex- 
 ecution of Charles I. and the fall of the Stuarts. A dis- 
 cussion between Louis XIV. and Louvois about a window 
 of Trianon caused the Holland War. A glass of water 
 spilled upon the dress of Mistress Marsham deprived the 
 Duke of Marlborough of his command, and saved France 
 by the treaty of Utrecht. In short, Europe was almost in- 
 volved in war because Monsieur de Vendome had received 
 the Bishop of Parma while seated upon his commode. 
 
 This last-mentioned incident was the beginning of 
 Alberoni's fortune. 
 
 Alberoni was born in a gardener's cottage, and as a 
 child he was the bell-ringer. When still a young man, 
 he exchanged his smock-frock for a surplice. He was of 
 a merry and jesting disposition. The Duke of Parma 
 heard him laugh one day so gayly that the poor duke, 
 who did not laugh every day, asked who it was that was 
 so merry, and had him called. Alberoni related to him 
 some grotesque adventure. His Highness laughed heart- 
 ily, and finding that it was pleasant to laugh sometimes, 
 attached him to his person. Little by little, while amus- 
 ing himself with his jester's tales, the duke discovered 
 that the fellow had talent, and he fancied that this talent 
 was applicable to public affairs. 
 
 It was at this time that the poor Bishop of Parma came 
 back, deeply mortified at his reception by the general- 
 issimo of the French army. The susceptibility of this 
 
ALBERONI. 71 
 
 envoy might compromise the grave interests which his 
 Highness had to discuss with France. His Highness 
 judged that Alberoni was a man whom nothing could 
 humiliate, and he sent the abbe to finish the negotiation 
 which the bishop had left unfinished. 
 
 Monsieur de Vendome, who had not put himself out for 
 a bishop, did not do so for an abbe, and received the 
 second ambassador as he had the first; but instead of 
 following the example of his predecessor, Alberoni found 
 in Monsieur de Vendome's own situation so much material 
 for merry jests and exaggerated commendation that the 
 affair was finished at once, and he came back to the duke 
 with everything arranged according to his wishes. 
 
 The duke found in this success a reason for employing 
 him again. This time Alberoni found Monsieur de Ven- 
 dome about sitting down to table, and instead of begin- 
 ning at once upon business, asked him if he would taste 
 two dishes of his cooking j he then went into the kitchen, 
 and came back with a soupe au fromage in one hand, and 
 macaroni in the other. Monsieur de Vendome found the 
 soup so good that he asked Alberoni to take some with 
 him at his own table. At dessert Alberoni introduced his 
 business ; and profiting by the favorable disposition which 
 the dinner had created in Monsieur de Vendome, he 
 twisted him round his finger. 
 
 His Highness was astonished. The greatest genius he 
 had met with never had done so much. 
 
 Alberoni had carefully refrained from leaving his re- 
 ceipt behind him ; so that the next time it was Monsieur 
 de Vendome who asked the Duke of Parma if he had 
 nothing else to negotiate with him. His Highness had 
 little difficulty in finding reasons for a third embassy, 
 and sent Alberoni again. The latter was able to persuade 
 his sovereign that he would be more useful to him near 
 
72 LE CHEVALIER D'HARMENTAL. 
 
 Monsieur de Vendome than elsewhere, and he persuaded 
 Monsieur de Vendome that he could not exist without 
 soupe au fromage and macaroni. Monsieur de Vendome 
 attached him to his service, allowed him to become ac- 
 quainted with his most secret affairs, and made him his 
 chief secretary. 
 
 At length Monsieur de Vendome left for Spain. Al- 
 beroni put himself in communication with Madame des 
 Ursins; and when Vendome died, in 1712, at Tignaros, 
 she gave him, near her, the same post he had occupied 
 near the deceased. 
 
 This was another step. The Princesse des Ursins be- 
 gan to get old, — an unpardonable crime in the eyes of ; 
 Philip V. She resolved to find, to replace Marie de 
 Savoie, a young woman, through whom she might con- 
 tinue to reign over the king. Alberoni proposed the 
 daughter of his old master, w r hom he represented to be 
 a child without character and without will, who would 
 claim nothing of royalty but the name. The princess was 
 taken by this promise. The marriage was decided on, 
 and the young princess left Italy for Spain. 
 
 Her first act of authority was to arrest the Princesse des 
 Ursins, who had come to meet her in a court dress, and to 
 send her back as she was, with her neck uncovered, in a 
 bitter frost, in a carriage of which the guard had broken 
 the window with his elbow, first to Burgos, and then to 
 France, — where she arrived after having been obliged to 
 borrow fifty pistoles from her servants. Her coachman 
 had his arm frozen, and it was cut off. 
 
 After his first interview with Elizabeth Farnese, the 
 king announced to Alberoni that he was prime minister. 
 From that day, thanks to the young queen, who owed 
 him everything, the ex-ringer of bells exercised an un- 
 limited empire over Philip V. 
 
ALBERONI. 73 
 
 Now this was the dream of Alberoni, who had always 
 prevented Philip V. from recognizing the peace of Utrecht : 
 if the conspiracy succeeded, — if D'Harmental carried off 
 the Due d'Orleans, and took him to the citadel of Toledo, 
 or the fortress of Saragossa, — Alberoni would get Mon- 
 sieur du Maine recognized as regent, would withdraw 
 France from the quadruple alliance, throw the Chevalier 
 de Saint-George with the fleet on the English coast, and 
 set Prussia, Sweden, and Russia, with whom he had a 
 treaty of alliance, at variance with Holland. The empire 
 would then profit by their dispute to retake Naples and 
 Sicily, would assure Tuscany to the second son of the 
 King of Spain, would reunite the Catholic Netherlands 
 to France, give Sardinia to the Dukes of Savoy, Com- 
 machio to the Pope, and Mantua to the Venetians. He 
 would make himself the soul of the great league of the 
 South against the North, and if Louis XV. died, would 
 crown Philip V. king of half the world. 
 
 It must be confessed that this was not badly planned 
 for a cook. v 
 
74 LE CHEVALIER D'HARMENTAL. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 A PACHA OF OUR ACQUAINTANCE. 
 
 All these affairs were now in the hands of a young man 
 twenty-six years of age j and naturally, he was at first 
 somewhat dismayed in view of the responsibility which 
 weighed upon him. While he was sounding the depth of 
 his perplexities, the Abbe Brigaud entered. He had al- 
 ready found a lodging for the chevalier at No. 5 Rue du 
 Temps-Perdu, — a small furnished room, suitable to a 
 young man from the country, who came to seek his for- 
 tune in Paris. He brought him also two thousand pistoles 
 from the Prince de Cellamare. 
 
 D'Harmental wished to refuse them, for it seemed to 
 him that if he should accept them he would be simply 
 serving for wages, instead of yielding to the impulses of 
 conscience and devotion ; but the Abbe Brigaud explained 
 to him that in such an enterprise there are susceptibilities 
 to conquer, and accomplices to pay ; and that besides, if 
 the affair succeeded, he would have to set out instantly 
 for Spain, and perhaps make his way by force of gold. 
 Brigaud carried away a complete suit of the chevalier's, 
 as a pattern for a new one suitable for a clerk in an office. 
 The Abbe Brigaud was a useful man. 
 
 D'Harmental passed the rest of the day in preparing for 
 his pretended journey, and destroyed, to guard against 
 accident, every letter which might compromise a friend. 
 When night came on, he went toward the Rue St. Honore, 
 
A PACHA OF OUR ACQUAINTANCE. 75 
 
 where — thanks to La Normande — he hoped to have 
 news of Captain Roquefinette. In fact, from the moment 
 that a lieutenant for his enterprise had been spoken of, 
 he had thought of this man, who had given him, as his 
 second, a proof of his careless courage. He had instantly 
 recognized in him one of those adventurers who are always 
 ready to sell their blood for a good price, and who in 
 time of peace, when their swords are useless to the State, 
 place them at the service of individuals. Such a man 
 must have secret relations with those nameless persons 
 who form the groundwork of conspiracies, — machines 
 who are put in operation without knowing either by what 
 spring they are started into action or what results they 
 produce ; and who, whether the affair fails or succeeds, 
 disperse as soon as it comes to a head, sinking into the 
 popular abyss, like ghosts dropping through trap-doors on 
 the stage of a theatre. On becoming a conspirator, one 
 always becomes superstitious; and D'Harmental fancied 
 that it was an intervention of Providence which had in- 
 troduced him to Roquefinette. 
 
 The chevalier, without being a regular customer, went 
 occasionally to the tavern of La Fillon. It was quite 
 fashionable at that time to go and drink at her house. 
 D'Harmental was to her neither her "son," — a name 
 which she gave to all her regular visitors, — nor her 
 "gossip," as she called Abbe Dubois, but simply Mon- 
 sieur le Chevalier, — a mark of respect which would have 
 been considered rather a humiliation by most of the young 
 men of fashion. La Fillon was therefore somewhat sur- 
 prised when D'Harmental asked to see one of her boarders, 
 called La Normande. 
 
 " Oh, mon Dieu, Monsieur le Chevalier ! " said she, 
 " I am really distressed ; but La Normande has just 
 been engaged until to-morrow evening." 
 
76 LE CHEVALIER D'HARMENTAL. 
 
 " Peste / " said the chevalier, " what madness ! " 
 
 " Oh, it is not madness," replied La Fill on ; "it is a 
 caprice of an old friend to whom I am devoted." 
 
 " When he has money, I suppose 1 " 
 
 " You are mistaken. I give him credit up to a certain 
 sum. It is a weakness, but one cannot help being grate- 
 ful. He started me in the world ; for though you see 
 me now, Monsieur le Chevalier, receiving in my house the 
 best people in Paris, including the regent, yet I am only the 
 daughter of a poor chair-bearer. Oh, I am not like your 
 beautiful duchesses who deny their origin ; nor like your 
 dukes and peers who fabricate genealogies for themselves. 
 No, what I am, I owe to my own merit ; and I am proud 
 of it." 
 
 "Then," said the chevalier, who was not particularly 
 interested in La Fillon's history, " you say that La 
 Normande will be here to-morrow evening 1 '' 
 
 " She is here, Monsieur, — she is here ; only, as I told 
 you, she has business with my old fox of a captain." 
 
 " But, my dear Presidente " (this was a name some- 
 times given to La Fillon, in allusion to the presidente of 
 the same name), " do you think, by chance, your captain 
 may be my captain 1 " 
 
 " What is your captain's name 1 " 
 
 " Captain Eoquefinette." 
 
 "It is he himself." 
 
 "He is here 1" 
 
 " In person." 
 
 " Well, he is the person I want to see ; and I asked for 
 La Normande only to get his address." 
 
 " Then it is all right," said the presidente. 
 
 "Have the kindness to send for him." 
 
 " Oh, he would not come down for the regent himself. 
 If you want to see him, you must go up." 
 
A PACHA OF OUR ACQUAINTANCE. 77 
 
 "To what room 1 ? " 
 
 " To room No. 2, where you supped the other evening 
 with the Baron de Valef. Oh, when he has money, 
 nothing is too good for him. Although he is but a 
 captain, he has the heart of a king." 
 
 " Better and better ! " said D'Harmental, mounting the 
 staircase, without suffering his mind to be diverted from 
 his enterprise by the recollection of the misadventure 
 which had happened to him in that room ; " ' the heart 
 of a king,' my dear Presidente, — that is exactly what 
 I want." 
 
 If D'Harmental had not known the room in question, 
 the voice of the captain would soon have served him for 
 a guide. 
 
 " Now, my little loves," shouted the captain, " the third 
 and last verse, and together in the chorus ! " Then he 
 began singing in a magnificent bass voice, and four or 
 five female voices took up the chorus. 
 
 " That is better," said the captain ; " now let us have 
 the ' Battle of Malplaquet.' " 
 
 " No, no," said a voice ; "I have had enough of your 
 battle." 
 
 " What ! enough of it, — a battle in which I took part I 
 morbleu!" 
 
 " That is nothing to me. I like a romance better than 
 all your wicked battle-songs, full of oaths." And she 
 began to sing, " Linval loved Arsene — " 
 
 " Silence ! " said the captain. " Am I not master here 1 
 As long as I have any money, I will be served as I like. 
 When I have no more, that will be another thing ; then 
 you may sing what you like, and I shall have nothing to 
 say to it." 
 
 It appeared that the captain's companions thought it 
 beneath the dignity of their sex to subscribe to such a 
 
78 LE CHEVALIER D'HARMENTAL. 
 
 pretension, for there was such a noise that D'Harmental 
 thought it best to announce himself; he therefore knocked 
 on the door. 
 
 " Pull the bobbin, and the latch will go up," said the 
 captain. 
 
 D'Harmental followed the instruction which was given 
 him in the words of Little Red Riding-hood, and having 
 entered, saw the captain lying on a couch before the 
 remains of an ample dinner, leaning on a cushion, a 
 woman's shawl over his shoulders, a great pipe in his 
 mouth, and a cloth rolled round his head like a turban. 
 Three or four girls were standing round him. On a chair 
 near him was placed his coat, on which was to be seen a 
 new shoulder-knot, his hat with a new lace, and the 
 famous sword which had suggested to Ravanne the face- 
 tious comparison to his mother's spit. 
 
 " What ! is it you, Chevalier % " cried the captain. 
 " You find me like Monsieur de Bonneval, — in my se- 
 raglio, and surrounded by my slaves. You do not know 
 Monsieur de Bonneval, ladies 1 He was a pacha with three 
 tails, who, like me, could not bear romances, but who 
 understood how to live. Heaven preserve me from such 
 a fate as his ! " 
 
 " Yes, it is I, Captain," said D'Harmental, unable to 
 keep from laughing at the grotesque group which pre- 
 sented itself. " I see you did not give me a false address, 
 and I congratulate you on your veracity." 
 
 "Welcome, Chevalier," said the captain. "Ladies, I 
 beg you to serve Monsieur exactly as you serve me, in all 
 respects, and to sing him whatever songs he likes. Sit 
 down, Chevalier, and eat and drink as if you were at 
 home, particularly as it is your horse we are eating and 
 drinking. He is already more than half gone, poor 
 animal, but the remains are good," .-" 
 
A PACHA OF OUR ACQUAINTANCE. 79 
 
 " ThaDk you, Captain, I have just dined ; and I have 
 only one word to say to you, if you will permit it." 
 
 " No, pardieu ! I do not permit it," said the captain, 
 "unless it is about another engagement, — that would 
 come before everything. La Normande, give me my 
 sword." 
 
 "No, Captain; it is on business," interrupted the 
 chevalier. 
 
 " Oh, if it is on business, I am your humble servant ; 
 but I am a greater tyrant than the tyrants of Thebes or 
 Corinth, — Archias, Pelopidas, Leonidas, or any other fool 
 with a name ending in ' as/ who put off business till to- 
 morrow. I have enough money to last till to-morrow even- 
 ing ; then after to-morrow, business." 
 
 "But at least after to-morrow, Captain, I may count 
 upon you?" 
 
 " For life or death, Chevalier." 
 
 " I believe that the postponement is prudent." 
 
 " Prudentissime/" said the captain. " Athenai's, light 
 my pipe. La Normande, pour me out something to 
 drink." 
 
 " The day after to-morrow, then, Captain ? " 
 
 " Yes ; where shall I find you 1 " 
 
 " Listen," replied D'Harmental, speaking so as to be 
 heard by no one but him. "Walk, from ten to eleven 
 o'clock in the morning, in the Eue du Temps-Perdu. 
 Look up; you will be called from somewhere, and you 
 must mount till you meet some one you know. A good 
 breakfast will await you." 
 
 " All right, Chevalier," replied th6 captain ; " from ten 
 to eleven in the morning. Excuse me if I do not con- 
 duct you to the door, but you know it is not the custom 
 with Turks." 
 
 The chevalier made a sign with his hand that he dis- 
 
80 LE CHEVALIER D'HARMENTAL. 
 
 pensed with this formality, and having closed the door 
 behind him, descended the staircase. He was only on the 
 fourth step when he heard the captain begin the famous 
 song of the dragoons of Malplaquet, which has perhaps 
 caused as much blood to be shed in duels as had been 
 poured out in the battle. 
 
THE GARRET. 81 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 THE GARRET. 
 
 The next day the Abbe Brigaud came to the chevalier's 
 house at the same hour as before ; he was a very punctual 
 man. He brought with him three things particularly use- 
 ful to the chevalier, — clothes, a passport, and the report of 
 the Prince de Cellamare's police respecting what the regent 
 was intending to do on the present day, March 24, 1718. 
 The clothes were simple, as became the cadet of a bour- 
 geois family come to seek his fortune in Paris. The 
 chevalier tried them on, and thanks to his own good 
 looks, found that plain as they were, they became him 
 admirably. The abb6 shook his head. He would have 
 preferred that the chevalier should not have looked quite 
 so well ; but this was an irreparable misfortune, to which 
 he must be resigned. 
 
 The passport was in the name of Senor Diego, steward 
 of the noble house of Oropesa, who had a commission to 
 bring back to Spain a sort of maniac, a bastard of the 
 said house, whose mania was to believe himself regent of 
 France. This was a precaution taken to meet anything 
 that the Due d'Orleans might call out from the bottom of 
 the carriage; and as the passport was according to rule, 
 signed by the Prince de Cellamare, and " vised " by Mon- 
 sieur Voyer d'Argenson, there was no reason why the 
 regent, once in the carriage, should not arrive safely at 
 Pampeluna, when all would be done. The signature of 
 Monsieur Voyer d'Argenson was imitated with a fidelity 
 
 6 
 
82 LE CHEVALIER D'HARMENTAL. 
 
 which did honor to the caligraphers of the Prince de 
 Cellamare. 
 
 As to the report, it was a masterpiece of clearness ; and 
 we reproduce it word for word, to give an idea of the re- 
 gent's life, and of the manner in which the Spanish am- 
 bassador's police was conducted. It was dated two 
 o'clock in the morning. 
 
 " To-day the regent will rise late. There has been a supper 
 In his private rooms; Madame d'Averne was there for the first 
 time instead of Madame de Parabere. The other women were 
 the Duchesse de Falaris, and Saleri, maid of honor to Madame. 
 The men were the Marquis de Broglie, the Comte de Noce, 
 the Marquis de Canillac, the Due de Brancas, and the Cheva- 
 lier de Simiane. As to the Marquis de Lafare and Monsieur 
 de Fargy, they were detained in bed by an illness of which the 
 cause is unknown. At noon there will be a council. The re- 
 gent will communicate to the Due du Maine, the Prince de 
 Conti, the Due de Saint-Simon, the Due de Guiche, etc., the 
 project of the treaty of the quadruple alliance, which the 
 Abbe Dubois has sent him, announcing his return in three or 
 four days. 
 
 " The rest of the day is given entirely to paternal occupations. 
 The day before yesterday the regent married his daughter by 
 La Desmarets, who was brought up by the nuns of St. Denis. 
 She dines with her husband at the Palais Royal, and after 
 dinner the regent takes her to the opera, to the box of Madame 
 Charlotte de Baviere. La Desmarets, who has not seen her 
 daughter for six years, is told that if she wishes to see her, she 
 can come to the theatre. The regent, in spite of his caprice for 
 Madame d'Averne, still pays court to the Marquise de Sabran, 
 who piques herself on her fidelity — not to her husband, but 
 to the Due de Richelieu. To advance his affairs, the regent 
 has appointed Monsieur de Sabran his maitre d'hotel." 
 
 " I hope that is business well done," said the Abbe Bri- 
 
 gaud, when the chevalier had finished reading the report. 
 
 " Yes, my dear Abbey replied D'Harmental ; " but if 
 
THE GAKRET. 83 
 
 the regent does not give us greater opportunities for 
 executing our enterprise, it will not be easy for me to 
 take him to Spain." 
 
 " Patience, patience ! " said Brigaud ; " there is time for 
 everything. If there had been an opportunity to-day, you 
 probably would not have been able to profit by it." 
 
 " No ; you are right." 
 
 " Then you see that what God does is well done. He 
 has left us this day; let us profit by it to move." 
 
 The removal was neither a long nor a difficult busi- 
 ness. D'Harmental took his treasure, some books, and 
 the packet which contained his wardrobe, and drove to the 
 abbe's house. Then he sent away his carriage, saying he 
 should go into the country in the evening, and should be 
 away ten or twelve days. Then having changed his 
 elegant clothes for those more in keeping with the part 
 he was about to play, he went, conducted by the Abbe 
 Brigaud, to take possession of his new lodging. It was a 
 room, or rather an attic, with a closet, on the fourth story 
 at No. 5 Rue du Temps-Perdu. The proprietor of the 
 house was an acquaintance of the Abbe Brigaud ; there- 
 fore, thanks to his recommendation, special preparation 
 had been made for the accommodation of the young pro- 
 vincial. He found beautifully white curtains, very fine 
 linen, and a well-furnished library; so he saw at once 
 that if not so well off as in his own apartments, he 
 should be tolerably comfortable. 
 
 Madame Denis (this was the name of the abbe's friend) 
 was waiting to do the honors of the room to her future 
 lodger. She pointed out to him all its advantages, and 
 assured him that but for the hard times he would have 
 had to pay twice the rent. She said that her house was 
 one of the most favorably known in that quarter, and 
 promised that there would be no noise to disturb him at 
 
84 LE CHEVALIER D'HARMENTAL. 
 
 his work, since, the street being too narrow for two car- 
 riages to pass each other, coachmen very rarely drove 
 into it. To all this the chevalier replied in a manner so 
 modest that on going down to the first floor, where she 
 lived, Madame Denis particularly recommended him to 
 the care of the porter and his wife. This young man, 
 though in appearance he could certainly compete with 
 the proudest seigneurs of the court, seemed to her far 
 from having the bold and free manners which the young 
 men of the time affected. 'T is true that the Abbe Bri- 
 gaud, in the name of his pupil's family, had paid her a 
 quarter in advance. 
 
 A minute after, the abbe went down to Madame Denis's 
 room and completed her good opinion of his young pro- 
 tege by telling her that he received absolutely nobody but 
 himself and an old friend of his father. The latter, in 
 spite of brusque manners, which he had acquired in the 
 field, was a highly respectable gentleman. D'Harmental 
 had recommended this precaution for fear the appear- 
 ance of the captain might frighten Madame Denis if she 
 happened to meet him. 
 
 When he was alone, the chevalier, who had already 
 taken the inventory of his own room, resolved to take 
 that of the neighborhood. He soon convinced himself 
 of the truth of what Madame Denis had said about the 
 quietness of the street, for it was not more than ten or 
 twelve feet wide ; but this was to him an advantage, — for 
 he thought that if pursued he might, by means of a plank 
 passed from one window to that opposite, escape to the 
 other side of the street. It was therefore important to 
 establish amicable relations with his opposite neighbors. 
 
 Unfortunately, they did not seem much disposed to 
 sociability; for not only was the window hermetically 
 sealed, as the time of year demanded, but the curtains 
 
THE GARRET. 85 
 
 behind it were so closely drawn that there was not the 
 smallest opening through which he could look. 
 
 More favored than that of Madame Denis, the house 
 opposite had a fifth story, or rather a terrace. An attic 
 room, just above the window so carefully closed, opened 
 on this terrace. It was probably the residence of some 
 distinguished horticulturist, — for he had succeeded, by 
 means of patience and labor, in transforming this terrace 
 into a garden, containing, in some twelve feet square, a 
 fountain, a grotto, and an arbor. The fountain, indeed, 
 was supplied with water from an upper reservoir, which 
 was fed in winter by the rain, and in summer by what he 
 himself poured into it ; the grotto, ornamented with shell- 
 work, and surrounded by a wooden fortress, appeared fit 
 only to shelter an individual of the canine race ; and the 
 arbor, entirely stripped of its leaves, appeared for the time 
 fit only for an immense poultry-cage. 
 
 D'Harmenta] admired the active industry of the citizen 
 of Paris who had made for himself a rural resort at the 
 edge of his window. He murmured the famous line of 
 Virgil, " fortunatos nimium ! " and then, since the air 
 was chilly, and there was nothing else to be seen but a 
 monotonous series of roofs and chimneys, he closed his 
 window, sat down in an armchair, put his feet on the 
 hobs, took up a volume by the Abbe de Chaulieu, and 
 began to read the verses addressed to Mademoiselle de 
 Launay, which the Marquis de Pompadour had mentioned 
 to him, and which had a new interest for him now that 
 he was acquainted with the heroine. 
 
 The result of this reading was that the chevalier, while 
 smiling at the octogenarian love of the good abbe, dis- 
 covered that he, less fortunate, was in love with no one. 
 For a short time he had thought he loved Madame 
 d'Averne, and was loved by her; but on her part this 
 
86 LE CHEVALIER D'HARMENTAL. 
 
 grand passion had not been able to withstand the offer of 
 some jewels from the regent, and the vanity of pleasing 
 him. 
 
 Before this infidelity had occurred, the chevalier thought 
 that it would have driven him to despair. It had oc- 
 curred, and he had fought, because at that time men 
 fought about everything that happened, — probably be- 
 cause duelling was so strictly forbidden. Then he began 
 to perceive how small a place this love had held in his 
 heart. It is true that the events of the last three or four 
 days had diverted his mind to other matters; but the 
 chevalier did not conceal from himself that these events 
 would not have occurred had he been really in love. A 
 great despair would not have allowed him to seek amuse- 
 ment at the bal-masque ; and if he had not gone thither, 
 not one of the events which had occurred in so rapid suc- 
 cession and in a manner so unexpected would have had a 
 point of departure. 
 
 The chevalier's conclusion from this course of reflection 
 was that he was incapable of a grand passion, and that he 
 was to find his associates among those charming sinners 
 who at that epoch were so much in vogue. He got up, 
 and began to walk up and down his room. While thus 
 employed, he perceived that the window opposite was now 
 wide open ; he stopped mechanically, drew back his cur- 
 tain, and began to examine the room thus exposed. 
 
 It was to all appearance occupied by a woman. Near 
 the window, on which a charming little Italian greyhound 
 rested her delicate paws, was an embroidery frame. Oppo- 
 site the window was an open harpsichord between two 
 music-stands. Some crayon drawings, framed in black 
 wood with a gold bead, were hung on the walls, which 
 were covered with a Persian paper. Curtains of Indian 
 chintz, of the same pattern as the paper, hung behind the 
 
THE GARRET. 87 
 
 muslin curtains. Through a second window, half-open, 
 he could see the curtains of a recess which probably con- 
 tained a bed. The rest of the furniture was perfectly 
 simple, but in admirable harmony, which was due evi- 
 dently, not to the fortune, but to the taste of the modest 
 inhabitant. 
 
 An old woman was sweeping, dusting, and arranging 
 the room, profiting by the tenant's absence to do this 
 household work ; for there was no one else to be seen in 
 the room, and yet it was clear it was not she who in- 
 habited it. All at once the face of the greyhound — 
 whose great eyes had been wandering till then, with the 
 aristocratic indifference characteristic of that animal — 
 became animated. It leaned its head over into the street, 
 then with a miraculous lightness and address, jumped on 
 the window-sill, and sat there pricking up its long ears 
 and raising one of its paws. The chevalier understood by 
 these signs that the tenant of the little room was approach- 
 ing. He immediately opened his window ; unfortunately 
 it was already too late, — the street was solitary. 
 
 At the same moment the greyhound leaped from the 
 window into the room, and ran to the door. D'Har- 
 mental concluded that the young lady was mounting the 
 stairs. In order to see her at his ease, he threw himself 
 back and hid behind the curtain; but the old woman 
 came to the window and closed it. The chevalier did not 
 expect this denouement, and was seriously disappointed. 
 There was nothing for him to do but to close his window 
 also, and to go back and put his feet on the hobs. 
 
 The affair was not very absorbing, and the chevalier — 
 so fond of companionship and so accustomed to those 
 social trifles which enter into the life of a man of the 
 world — began then to perceive how lonely he should be 
 during the short time he was to remain in that retreat. 
 
88 LE CHEVALIER D'HARMENTAL. 
 
 He remembered that formerly he also used to play and 
 draw ; and he thought that if he had the smallest spinet 
 and some crayons, he could pass the time patiently. He 
 rang for the porter^ and asked where he could procure 
 these things. The porter replied that every increase of 
 furniture must be at his own expense ; that if he wished 
 for a harpsichord he must hire it ; and that as to crayons, 
 he could get them at the shop at the corner of the Rue 
 de Clery. 
 
 D'Harmental gave a double louis to the porter, telling 
 him that in half an hour he wished to have a spinet and 
 everything necessary for drawing. The double louis was 
 an argument which he had found effective more than once. 
 Reproaching himself, however, with having used it this 
 time with a carelessness which gave the lie to his apparent 
 position, he recalled the porter, and told him that he ex- 
 pected for his double louis to have not only paper and 
 crayons, but a month's hire of his instrument. 
 
 The porter replied that since he should make the bar- 
 gain as if it were for himself, the thing was possible ; but 
 that D'Harmental must certainly pay for the transportation. 
 He consented, and half an hour afterward was in posses- 
 sion of the desired objects. Such a wonderful place 
 is Paris for every enchanter with a golden wand. The 
 porter, when he went down, told his wife that if the new 
 lodger was not more careful of his money, he would ruin 
 his family ; and he showed her two crowns of six francs, 
 which he had saved out of the double louis. The woman 
 took the two crowns from the hands of her husband, call- 
 ing him a drunkard, and put them into a little bag, hidden 
 under a heap of old clothes, deploring the misfortune of 
 fathers and mothers who bleed themselves to death for 
 such good-for-nothings. This was the funeral oration of 
 the chevalier's double louis. 
 
A BOURGEOIS OF THE RUE DU TEMPS -PERDU. 89 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 A BOURGEOIS OF THE RUE DU TEMPS-PERDU. 
 
 During this time D'Harmental was seated before the 
 spinet, playing his best. The shopkeeper was a man 
 blessed with a fair conscience, and had sent him an in- 
 strument nearly in tune ; so that the chevalier began to 
 perceive that he was doing wonders, and almost believed 
 he was born with a genius for music which had awaited 
 for its development the circumstances in which he was 
 now placed. Doubtless there was some truth in this, for 
 in the middle of a brilliant shake he saw, on the other 
 side of the street, five little fingers delicately raising the 
 curtain to see whence came this strange music. Unfor- 
 tunately, at the sight of those little fingers the chevalier 
 forgot his playing, and turned round quickly on the stool, 
 hoping to see a face behind the hand. 
 
 This ill-judged manoeuvre destroyed his chances. The 
 mistress of the little room, surprised in the act of curi- 
 osity, let the curtain fall. D'Harmental, wounded by this 
 prudery, closed his window, and during the rest of the 
 day paid no attention to his neighbor. The evening he 
 spent* in reading, drawing, and playing. He was sur- 
 prised to find that there were so many minutes in an 
 hour and so many hours in a day. At ten o'clock in the 
 evening he rang for the porter, to give orders for the next 
 day. The porter did not respond ; he had been in bed a 
 2ong time. Madame Denis had said truly that hers was 
 a quiet house. D'Harmental then learned that there were 
 
90 LE CHEVALIER D'HARMENTAL. 
 
 those who went to bed about the time he ordered his car- 
 riage to pay visits. 
 
 This set him thinking of the strange manners of that 
 unfortunate class of society who do not know the opera, 
 who do not go to supper-parties, and who sleep all night 
 and are awake all day. He thought one must come to 
 the Rue du Temps-Perdu to see such things, and prom- 
 ised himself to amuse his friends with an account of this 
 singularity. 
 
 Meanwhile D'Harmental noticed one thing that pleased 
 him ; and this was that his neighbor also was awake. 
 This showed in her a mind superior to that of the vulgar 
 inhabitants of the Rue du Temps-Perdu. He had a 
 notion that only those stay up late who are not sleepy, 
 or who seek amusement. He forgot all those who do so 
 because they are obliged to. At midnight the light in 
 the opposite windows was extinguished ; D'Harmental 
 also went to his bed. 
 
 The next day the Abbe Brigaud appeared at eight 
 o'clock. He brought D'Harmental the second report of 
 the Prince de Cellamare's secret police. It was in these 
 terms : — 
 
 Three o'clock, a. m. 
 
 In consequence of the regular life which he led yesterday, 
 the regent has given orders to be called at nine. 
 
 He will receive certain persons whom he has appointed to 
 meet at that time 
 
 From ten to twel ve there will be a public audience. 
 
 From twelve to one the regent will be engaged with La 
 Vrilliere and Leblanc. 
 
 From one to two he will open letters with Torcy. 
 
 At half-past two there will be a council, and he will pay 
 the king a visit. 
 
 At three o'clock he will go to, the tennis-court in the Rue 
 du Seine, to sustain, with Brancas and Canillac, a challenge 
 
A BOURGEOIS OF THE RUE DU TEMPS-PERDU. 91 
 
 against the Due du Richelieu, the Marquis de Broglie, and the 
 Corate de Gace. 
 
 At six he will go to supper at the Luxembourg with the 
 Duchesse de Berri, and will pass the evening there. 
 
 From there he will come back, without guards, to the 
 Palais Royal, unless the Duchesse de Berri gives him an 
 escort from hers. 
 
 " Without guards, my dear Abbe ! what do you think 
 of that 1 ?" said D'Harmental, beginning to dress. "Does 
 it not make your mouth water 1 n 
 
 " Without guards, yes," replied the abbe ; " but with 
 footmen, outriders, a coachman, — persons who do not 
 fight much, it is true, but who cry very loud. Oh, 
 patience, patience, my young friend ! You are in a great 
 hurry to be a grandee of Spain." 
 
 " No, my dear Abbe ; but I am in a hurry to give up 
 living in an attic where I lack everything, and where I 
 am obliged to dress myself alone, as you see. Do you 
 think it is nothing to go to bed at ten o'clock, and dress 
 in the morning without a valet % " 
 
 " Yes, but you have music," replied the abbe. 
 
 " Ah, indeed ! " replied D'Harmental. " Abbe, open 
 my window, I beg, that they may see I receive good com- 
 pany. That will do me honor with my neighbors." 
 
 " Ho ! ho ! " said the abbe, doing what D'Harmental 
 asked ; " that is not bad at all." 
 
 "How, not bad 1 ?" replied D'Harmental; "it is very 
 good, on the contrary. It is from ' Armida,' pardieu ! 
 The devil take me if I expected to find that in the 
 fourth story of a house in the Rue du Temps-Perdu." 
 
 " Chevalier, I predict," said the abbe, " that if the 
 singer be young and pretty, in a week there will be as 
 much trouble to get you away as there is now to keep 
 you here." 
 
92 LE CHEVALIER D'HARMENTAL. 
 
 "My dear Abbe," said D'Harmental, "if your police 
 were as good as those of the Prince de Cellamare, you 
 would know that I am cured of love for a long time ; and 
 here is the proof. Do not think I pass my days in sigh- 
 ing. I beg when you go down you will send me some- 
 thing like a pdte and a dozen bottles of good wine. 1 
 trust to you. I know you are a connoisseur; besides, 
 sent by you, it will seem like a guardian's attention. 
 Bought by me, it would seem like a pupil's debauch ; 
 and I have my provincial reputation to keep up with 
 Madame Denis." 
 
 {t That is true. I do not ask you what it is for; but I 
 will send it to you." 
 
 " And you are right, my dear Abbe. It is for the good 
 of the cause." 
 
 " In an hour the pdte and the wine will be here." 
 
 " When shall I see you again 1 " 
 
 " To-morrow, probably." 
 
 "Adieu, then, till to-morrow." 
 
 " You send me away 1 " 
 
 "I am expecting somebody." 
 
 " Still for the good cause 1 " 
 
 " Yes, I assure you. Go, and may God preserve you ! *" 
 
 " Stay, and may the devil not get hold of you ! Re- 
 member that it was a woman who got us turned out of 
 our terrestrial paradise. Put no trust in women." 
 
 "Amen," said the chevalier, making a parting sign 
 with his hand to the Abbe Brigaud. 
 
 Indeed, as the abbe had observed, D'Harmental was in 
 a hurry to see him go. His great love for music, which 
 he had discovered only the day before, had progressed so 
 rapidly that he did not wish his attention called away 
 from what he had just heard. The little which that hor- 
 rible window, still closed, allowed him to hear, and which 
 
A BOURGEOIS OF THE RUE DU TEMPS-PERDU. 93 
 
 was more of the instrument than of the voice, showed 
 that his neighbor was an excellent musician. The play- 
 ing was skilful ; the voice was sweet and sustained, and 
 had in its high notes and deep vibrations something which 
 awoke an answer in the heart of the listener. At last, 
 after a very difficult and perfectly executed passage, D'Har- 
 mental could not help clapping his hands and crying, 
 " Bravo ! " As bad luck would have it, this triumph, to 
 which she had not been accustomed, instead of encour- 
 aging the musician, frightened her so much that voice 
 and harpsichord stopped at the same instant, and silence 
 immediately succeeded to the melody for which the cheva- 
 lier had so imprudently manifested his enthusiasm. 
 
 In exchange, he saw the door of the room above (which 
 we have said led to the terrace) open, and a hand was 
 stretched out, evidently to ascertain what kind of weather 
 it was. The answer of the weather seemed reassuring, 
 for the hand was almost directly followed by a head cov- 
 ered by a little chintz cap, tied on the forehead by a violet 
 ribbon ; and the head was only a few instants in advance 
 of a neck and shoulders clothed in a kind of dressing- 
 gown of the same stuff as the cap. This was not quite 
 enough to enable the chevalier to decide to which sex the 
 individual, who seemed so cautious about exposure to the 
 morning air, belonged. At last, a sort of sunbeam having 
 slipped out between two clouds, the timid occupant of the 
 terrace appeared to be encouraged to come out altogether. 
 D'Harmental then saw, by his black velvet knee-breeches, 
 and by his colored stockings, that the personage who had 
 just entered on the scene was of the masculine gender. 
 
 It was the horticulturist of whom we spoke. The bad 
 weather of the preceding days had without doubt de- 
 prived him of his morning walk, and had prevented him 
 from giving his garden his ordinary attention ; for he 
 
94 LE CHEVALIER D'HARMENTAL. 
 
 began to walk round in it with apparent anxiety, fearing 
 that some accident had been caused by the wind or rain. 
 But after a careful inspection of the fountain, the grotto, 
 and the arbor, which were the three principal ornaments of 
 the garden, the excellent face of the horticulturist was 
 lighted by a ray of joy, as the terrace had been lighted by 
 a ray of the sun. He perceived, not only that everything 
 was in its place, but that the reservoir was full to overflow- 
 ing. He thought he might indulge himself in the pleasure 
 of making his fountain play, — a prodigality which ordi- 
 narily, following the example of Louis XIV., he allowed 
 himself only on Sundays. He turned the cock, and the 
 jet rose majestically to the height of four or five feet. 
 The good man was so delighted that he began to sing 
 the refrain of an old pastoral song which D'Harmental 
 had heard when he was a baby ; and while repeating, - — 
 
 " Let me go, 
 And let me play 
 Beneath the hazel-tree," 
 
 he ran to the window and called aloud, " Bathilde ! 
 Bathilde ! " 
 
 The chevalier understood that there was a communica- 
 tion between the rooms on the fourth and fifth stories, 
 and some relation between the horticulturist and the 
 musician, and thought that perhaps if he remained at the 
 window she would not come out on the terrace ; therefore 
 he closed his window with a careless air, taking care to 
 keep a little opening behind the curtain, through which 
 he could see without being seen. What he had foreseen 
 happened. Very soon the head of a charming young girl 
 appeared at the window ; but as without doubt the 
 ground, on which he who had summoned her had ven- 
 tured with so much courage, was too damp, she would 
 not go any farther. The little dog, not less timid than 
 
A BOUKGEOIS OF THE RUE DU TEMPS-PERDU. 95 
 
 its mistress, remained near her, resting its white paws on 
 the window-sill, and shaking its head in rejection of every 
 invitation to go farther than its mistress wished to go. 
 
 A dialogue ensued between the good man and the young 
 girl ; and D'Harmental was able to examine her with the 
 less distraction since his closed window enabled him to 
 see her without hearing her voice. She appeared to have 
 arrived at that attractive period of life when woman, pass- 
 ing from childhood to youth, is in the full bloom of sen- 
 timent, grace, and beauty. He saw that she was not less 
 than sixteen nor more than eighteen years of age, and 
 that there existed in her a singular mixture of two races. 
 She had the fair hair, rich complexion, and graceful neck 
 of an English woman, with the black eyes, coral lips, and 
 pearly teeth of a Spaniard. As she applied no coloring 
 matter to her face, and at that time the use of powder on 
 the head was only beginning to be in fashion, — its use 
 being' as yet limited to the aristocracy, — her complexion 
 retained its natural hue, and nothing tarnished the delicate 
 tints of her hair. 
 
 The chevalier remained as in an ecstasy. Indeed, up 
 to this time he had seen but two classes of women, — the 
 fat and coarse peasants of the Nivernais, with their great 
 feet and hands, their short petticoats, and their hats 
 shaped like a hunting-horn ; and the women of the 
 Parisian aristocracy, beautiful without doubt, but with a 
 beauty worn by watching and pleasure, and by that re- 
 versing of life which makes them what flowers would be 
 if they saw the sun only on rare occasions, and the vivi- 
 fying air of the morning and the evening reached them 
 only through the windows of a hot-house. He did not 
 know this intermediate type, if one may call it so, between 
 high society and the country people, which had all the 
 elegance of the one, and all the fresh health of the other. 
 
96 LE CHEVALIER D'HARMENTAL. 
 
 Thus, as we have said, he remained fixed in his place ; 
 and long after the young girl had re-entered, he kept 
 his eyes on the window where this delightful vision 
 had appeared. 
 
 The sound of his door opening called him out of his 
 ecstasy ; it was the pate and the wine from Abbe Brigaud 
 making their solemn entry into the chevalier's garret. 
 The sight of these provisions reminded him that at the 
 present moment he had something better to do than to 
 abandon himself to contemplation, and that he had given 
 Captain Roquefinette a rendezvous with reference to an 
 affair of the highest importance. He looked at his watch 
 and saw that it was ten o'clock. This was, as the reader' 
 will remember, the appointed hour. He sent away the 
 man who had brought the provisions, and said he would 
 lay the cloth himself; then opening his window once 
 more, he sat down to watch for the appearance of Cap- 
 tain Roquefinette. 
 
THE CONTRACT. 97 
 
 CHAPTEE XL 
 
 THE CONTRACT. 
 
 Hardly had D'Harmental taken his position at the 
 window, when he perceived the worthy captain coming 
 round the corner from the Rue Gros-Chenet, his head 
 thrown hack, his hand on his hip, and with the martial 
 and decided air of a man who, like the Greek philosopher, 
 carries everything with him. His hat, that thermometer 
 "by which his friends could tell the secret state of his 
 finances, and which on his fortunate days was placed as 
 straight on his head as a pyramid on its base, had re- 
 sumed that miraculous inclination which had so interested 
 the Baron de Valef, and by reason of which one of the 
 points almost touched his right shoulder, while the oppo- 
 site point might forty years later have given Franklin, if 
 Franklin had known the captain, the first idea of the 
 lightning-rod. 
 
 Having advanced about a third of the street's length, 
 the captain looked up, according to his directions, and saw 
 the chevalier just above him. He who waited and he 
 who was waited for exchanged nods ; and the captain, hav- 
 ing calculated the distance at a glance, and recognized the 
 door which ought to correspond with the window above, 
 stepped over the threshold of Madame Denis's quiet 
 house with as much familiarity as if it had been a tavern. 
 The chevalier shut the window, and drew the curtains 
 with the greatest care, — either in order that his pretty 
 
98 LE CHEVALIER D'HARMENTAL. 
 
 neighbor might not see him with the captain, or that the 
 captain might not see her. 
 
 A moment later D'Harmental heard the sound of his 
 visitor's steps, and the beating of his sword against the 
 balusters. Having arrived at the third story, as the light 
 which came from below was not reinforced by any light 
 from above, the captain found himself in difficulty, not 
 knowing whether to stop where he was or to mount 
 higher. Then after coughing in the most significant 
 manner, and finding that this call remained unnoticed, 
 " Morbleu ! ' said he. " Chevalier, as you probably did 
 not bring me here to break my neck, open your door or 
 call out, so that I may be guided either by the light of 
 heaven or by the sound of your voice ; otherwise I shall be 
 lost neither more nor less than was Theseus in the laby- 
 rinth." And the captain began to sing in a loud voice : 
 
 " Fair Ariadne, I beg of you 
 Help me, by lending me your clew. 
 Tonton, tonton, tontaine, tonton ! " 
 
 The chevalier ran to his door and opened it. 
 
 " My friend," said the captain, " the ladder up to your 
 pigeon-house is infernally dark ; still, here I am, faithful 
 to the agreement, exact to the time. Ten o'clock was 
 striking as I came over the Pont-Neuf." 
 
 " Yes, you are a man of your word, — I see that," said 
 the chevalier, offering his hand to the captain ; " but come 
 in at once, — it is important that my neighbors should not 
 notice you." 
 
 " In that case I am as dumb as a log," answered the 
 captain; "besides," he added, pointing to the pdle and 
 the bottles which covered the table, " you have hit upon 
 the true way of shutting my mouth." 
 
 The chevalier shut the door behind the captain and 
 pushed the bolt. 
 
THE CONTRACT. 99 
 
 " Ah, ah ! mystery 1 So much the better ; I am fond 
 of mystery. There is almost always something to be 
 gained when people begin by saying, ' Hush ! ' In any 
 case, you cannot do better than address yourself to your 
 servant," continued the captain, resorting again to mytho- 
 logical allusions. " You see in me the grandson of Har- 
 pocrates, the god of silence ; so do not be uneasy." 
 
 " That is well, Captain," answered D'Harmental ; " for 
 I confess that what I have to say to you is of sufficient 
 importance for me to claim your discretion beforehand." 
 
 " It is granted, Chevalier. While I was giving a lesson 
 to little Eavanne, I saw, out of a corner of my eye, that 
 you were a skilful swordsman ; and I love brave men. 
 Then in return for a little service of trifling importance, 
 you gave me a horse worth a hundred louis ; and I love 
 generous men. Thus, since you are twice my man, why 
 should I not be yours once 1 ?" 
 
 " Well," said the chevalier, " I see that we understand 
 each other." 
 
 " Speak, and I will listen," answered the captain, 
 assuming his gravest air. 
 
 " You will listen better seated, my dear guest. Let us 
 go to breakfast." 
 
 " You preach like Saint Jean Bouche d'Or, Chevalier," 
 said the captain, taking off his sword and placing that and 
 his hat on the harpsichord; "so that," he continued, 
 sitting down opposite D'Harmental, "one cannot differ 
 from you in opinion. I am here ; command the manoeuvre, 
 and I will execute it." 
 
 " Taste that wine while I cut the p&te" 
 
 "That is right," said the captain; " let us divide our 
 forces and fight the enemy separately ; then let us reunite 
 to exterminate what remains." 
 
 And joining practice to theory, the captain seized the 
 
100 LE CHEVALIER D'HARMENTAL. 
 
 first bottle by the neck, drew the cork, and having poured' 
 out a bumper, drank it off with such ease that one would 
 have said that Nature had gifted him with some peculiar 
 faculty of deglutition. However, to do him justice, as 
 soon as he had swallowed it, he perceived that the liquor 
 which he had disposed of so cavalierly merited a more 
 particular attention than he had given it. 
 
 " Oh ! M said he, clicking his tongue, and putting down 
 hit* glass with a respectful deliberation, " what have I 
 done, unworthy that I am? I drink nectar as if it were 
 trash, and that at the beginning of the feast ! Ah ! " he 
 continued, shaking his head, " Roquefinette, my friend, , 
 you are getting old. Ten years ago you would have 
 known what it was when the first drop touched your 
 palate, while now you want many trials to know the 
 worth of things. To your health, Chevalier ! " 
 
 And this time the captain, more circumspect, drank the 
 second glass slowly, and set it down three times before he 
 finished it, winking his eyes in sign of satisfaction. Then 
 when he had finished, " This," he said, " is of the hermi- 
 tage of 1702, the year of the battle of Friedlingen. If 
 your wine-merchant has much like that, and if he will 
 give credit, let me have his address. I promise him a 
 good customer." 
 
 "Captain," answered the chevalier, slipping an enor- 
 mous slice of pate upon the plate of his guest, " my wine- 
 merchant not only gives credit, but to my friends he gives 
 altogether." 
 
 " Oh, the honest man ! " cried the captain. Then after 
 a minute's silence, during which a superficial observer 
 would have thought him absorbed in appreciation of the 
 pate, as he had been an instant before in that of the wine, 
 he leaned his two elbows on the table, and looking at 
 D'Harmental with a sly expression between his knife and 
 
THE CONTRACT. 101 
 
 fork, "So, my dear Chevalier," said he, "we conspire, it 
 seems ; and in order to succeed, we have need of poor 
 Captain Roquefinette." 
 
 " And who told you that, Captain 1 ?" broke in the 
 chevalier, trembling in spite of himself. 
 
 " Who told me that 1 Pardieu! it is an easy riddle to 
 solve. A man who gives away horses worth a hundred 
 loais, who drinks wine at a pistole the bottle, and who 
 lodges in a garret in the Rue du Temps-Perdu, what the 
 devil do you imagine he is doing if not conspiring ? " 
 
 " Well, Captain," said D'Harinental, laughing, " I shall 
 never be discreet ; you have divined the truth. Does a con- 
 spiracy frighten you 1 " he continued, filling his guest's glass. 
 
 " Me 1 frighten me ! Who says that anything on earth 
 can frighten Captain Roquefinette 1 " 
 
 " Not I, Captain ; for at the first glance, at the first 
 word, I fixed on you as my second." 
 
 " Ah, that is to say that if you are hung on a scaffold 
 twenty feet high, I shall be hung on one ten feet high, 
 that 's all ! " 
 
 " Peste / Captain," said D'Harmental, refilling his glass, 
 " if one always began by seeing things in their worst 
 light, one never would attempt anything." 
 
 "Because I have spoken of the gallows'?" answered 
 the captain. " That proves nothing. What is the gal- 
 lows in the eyes of a philosopher 1 One of the thousand 
 ways of parting from life, and certainly one of the least 
 disagreeable. One can see that you never have looked 
 the thing in the face, since you have such an aversion to 
 it. Besides, on proving our noble descent, we shall have 
 our heads cut off, like Monsieur de Rohan. Did you see 
 Monsieur de Rohan's head cut off?" continued the cap- 
 tain, looking at D'Harinental. " He was a handsome 
 young man, like you, and of about your age. He con- 
 
• . • • • • 
 
 102 
 
 " LE CHEVALIER* 6'HARMENTAL. 
 
 spired, as you propose doing, but the conspiracy was a 
 failure. That is always possible, for any one may be 
 deceived. They built him a beautiful black scaffold j 
 they allowed him to turn toward the window where his 
 mistress was ; they cut the neck of his shirt with scissors. 
 But the executioner was a bungler, accustomed to hang 
 and not to decapitate, so that he was obliged to strike 
 three or four times to cut the head off, and after all, was 
 obliged to use a knife which he drew from his girdle, and 
 with which he chopped so well that he at last succeeded. 
 Come, you are a brave man," continued the captain, see- 
 ing that the chevalier had listened without frowning to 
 the details of that horrible execution. " Enough ! I 
 am your man. Against whom are we conspiring 1 Let 
 us see. Is it against Monsieur le Due du Maine 1 Is it 
 against Monsieur le Due d'Orleans 1 Must we break the 
 lame one's other leg 1 ? Must we cut out the blind one's 
 other eye? I am ready." 
 
 " Nothing of all that, Captain ; and if it pleases God, 
 there will be no blood spilled." 
 
 "What is going on, then?" 
 
 " Have you ever heard of the abduction of the Duke of 
 Mantua's secretary 1 " 
 
 " Of Matthioli ?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " Pardieu ! I know the affair better than any one, for I 
 saw them pass as they were conducting him to Pignerol. 
 It was the Chevalier de Saint-Martin and Monsieur de 
 Villebois who did it ; and by this token, they each had 
 three thousand francs for themselves and their men." 
 
 "That was only middling pay," said D'Harmental, 
 with a disdainful air. 
 
 " You think so, Chevalier 1 Nevertheless, three thou- 
 sand francs is a nice little sum." 
 
THE CONTRACT. 103 
 
 " Then for three thousand francs you would have under- 
 taken it ? " 
 
 " I would have undertaken it," answered the captain. 
 
 " But if instead of carrying off a secretary, it had been 
 proposed to you to carry off a duke % " 
 
 " That would have been dearer." 
 
 " But you would have undertaken it all the same ? " 
 
 " Why not 1 I should have asked double, that is all." 
 
 " And if while giving you double pay, a man like my- 
 self had said to you, * Captain, it is not an obscure danger 
 that I plunge you into ; it is a struggle in which I am 
 myself engaged, like you, and in which I venture my 
 name, my future, and my head/ what would you have 
 answered 1 " 
 
 44 I would have given him my hand, as I now give it 
 you. Now what is the business?" 
 
 The chevalier filled his own glass and that of the 
 captain. 
 
 " To the health of the regent," said he, " and may he 
 arrive without accident at the Spanish frontier, as Mat- 
 thioii arrived at Pignerol ! " 
 
 " Ah, ah ! " said the captain, raising his glass. Then, 
 after a pause, " And why not 1 " he continued ; '' the 
 regent is but a man, after all. Only we shall neither be 
 hung nor decapitated ; we shall be broken on the wheel. 
 To any one else I should say that a regent would be 
 dearer; but to you, Chevalier, I have only one price. 
 Give me six thousand francs, and I will find a dozen 
 determined men." 
 
 " But those twelve men, — do you think that you 
 may trust them 1 " 
 
 44 What need for their knowing what they are doing? 
 They will think they are only carrying out a wager." 
 
 " And I, Captain," said D'Harmental, opening a desk 
 
104 LE CHEVALIER D'HARMENTAL. 
 
 and taking from it a bag containing a thousand pistoles, 
 " will show you that I do not haggle with my friends. 
 Here are two thousand francs in gold. Take them on 
 account if we succeed , if we fail, we will cry quits." 
 
 "Chevalier," answered the captain, taking the bag of 
 money and poising it on his hand with an indescribable 
 air of satisfaction, " I will not do you the injustice of 
 counting after you. When is the affair to heV* 
 
 " I do not know yet, Captain ; but if you find the 
 pdte to your taste, and the wine good, and if you will 
 do me the pleasure of breakfasting with me every day 
 as you have done to-day, I will keep you informed of 
 everything." 
 
 " That would not do, Chevalier," said the captain. " I 
 should not have come to you three mornings before the 
 police of that cursed D'Argenson would be on our tracks. 
 Luckily, he has to deal with some one as clever as him- 
 self, and I am used to playing hide-and-seek with him. 
 No, no, Chevalier, from now till the moment for action, 
 the less we see of each other the better ; or rather, we must 
 not see each other at all. Your street is not a long one, 
 and as it opens at one end on the Rue du Gros-Chenet, 
 and at the other on the Rue Montmartre, I shall have no 
 reason for coming through it. Here," he continued, de- 
 taching his shoulder-knot, "take this ribbon. The day 
 that you want me, tie it to a nail outside your window. 
 I shall understand what that means, and will climb your 
 stairs." 
 
 " What, Captain ! " said D'Harmental, seeing that his 
 companion had risen and was fastening on his sword. "Are 
 you going without finishing the bottle 1 What has the 
 wine, which you appeared to appreciate so much a little 
 while ago, done to you, that you despise it so now ? " 
 
 "It is just because I appreciate it still that I tear 
 
THE CONTRACT. 105 
 
 myself away from it ; and the proof that I do not despise 
 it," said the captain, filling his glass, " is that I am going 
 to say to it a last adieu. To your health, Chevalier ! you 
 may boast of having good wine. Hum ! And now, n-o, 
 no, that is all. I shall take to water till I see the ribbon 
 flutter from your window. Try to let it be as soon as 
 possible, for water is a liquid that plays the devil with 
 my constitution." 
 
 " But why do you go so soon ] " 
 
 " Because I know Captain Eoquefinette. He is a good 
 fellow; but when he sits down before a bottle he must 
 drink, and when he has drunk he must talk ; and how- 
 ever well one talks, remember that those who talk much 
 always finish by making some blunder. Adieu, Cheva- 
 lier. Do not forget the crimson ribbon ; I go to look 
 after our business." 
 
 " Adieu, Captain," said D'Harmental ; " I am pleased to 
 see that I have no need to preach discretion to you." 
 
 The captain made the sign of the cross on his mouth 
 with his right thumb, placed his hat straight on his head, 
 raised his sword for fear of its making a noise in striking 
 against the wall, and went downstairs as silently as if 
 he had feared that every step would echo in the Hotel 
 d'Argenson. 
 
106 LE CHEVALIER D'HAKMENTAL. 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 SEE-SAW. 
 
 The chevalier remained alone ; but in the conversation 
 which he had had with the captain he found so much 
 matter for reflection that it was unnecessary for him to 
 have recourse either to the   poetry of the Abbe de Chau- 
 lieu, his harpsichord, or his crayons. Indeed, until now 
 he had been only half engaged in the hazardous enter- 
 prise of which the Duchesse du Maine and the Prince de 
 Cellamare had predicted to him the happy ending, and of 
 which the captain, in order to try his courage, had so 
 brutally exhibited to him the bloody termination that 
 might ensue. As yet he had only been the end of a 
 chain, and on breaking away from one side, he would 
 have been loose. Now he had become an intermediate 
 link, fastened at both ends, and attached at the same 
 time to the highest and the lowest extremes of society. 
 In a word, from this hour he no longer belonged to him- 
 self; he was like the Alpine traveller, who, having lost his 
 way, stops in the middle of an unknown road, and meas- 
 ures with his eye, for the first time, the mountain which 
 rises above him and the gulf which yawns beneath his feet. 
 Happily, the chevalier had the calm, cold, and resolute 
 courage of a man in whom blood and bile, — those two 
 opposite forces, — instead of neutralizing, stimulated each 
 other. He engaged in a perilous enterprise with all the 
 impetuosity of the sanguine temperament ; and once en- 
 gaged in that enterprise, he faced its peril with the quiet 
 
SEE-SAW. 107 
 
 resolution of the bilious temperament. And therefore 
 the chevalier was likely to be as dangerous in a con- 
 spiracy as in a duel ; for as his calmness enabled him in 
 a duel to take advantage of the slightest error on the part 
 of his adversary, so in a conspiracy it would enable him 
 to reunite, as often as they were broken, those impercep- 
 tible threads on which the success of great enterprises 
 depends. Madame du Maine had good reason for saying 
 to Mademoiselle de Launay that she might put out her 
 lantern, and that she believed she had at last found a 
 man. 
 
 But this man was young, twenty-six years of age, with 
 a heart open to all the illusions and all the poetry of that 
 early period of life. As a child he had laid down his 
 playthings at the feet of his mother. As a young man 
 he had come to exhibit his handsome uniform as colonel 
 to the eyes of his mistress. Indeed, in every enterprise 
 of his life some loved image had gone before him, and he 
 had thrown himself into danger with the certainty that 
 if he should perish, there would be some one surviving 
 who would mourn his fate. 
 
 But his mother was dead ; the last woman by whom he 
 had believed himself loved had betrayed him ; and he felt 
 that he was alone in the world, bound solely by interest 
 to men to whom he would become an obstacle as soon as 
 he ceased to be an instrument, anc who, if he should fall, 
 far from mourning his loss, would only see in it a cause 
 of satisfaction. Now, this isolated position, which ought 
 to be desired by all men in a great danger, is almost 
 always (such is the egotism of our nature) a cause of pro- 
 found discouragement. Such is the horror of nothingness 
 in man that he believes he still survives in the sentiments 
 which he has inspired, and he in some measure consoles 
 himself for leaving the world by thinking of the regrets 
 
108 LE CHEVALIER D'HAKMENTAL. 
 
 which will accompany his memory, and of the devotion 
 which will visit his tomb. Thus, at this crisis, the cheva- 
 lier would have given everything to be loved, if it was 
 only by a dog. 
 
 He was plunged in the saddest of these reflections 
 when, passing and repassing before his window, he no- 
 ticed that his neighbor's was open. He stopped suddenly 
 and shook his head, as if to cast off the most sombre of 
 his thoughts; then leaning his elbow on the table, 
 and his head on his hand, he tried to give a different 
 direction to his thoughts by looking at exterior objects. 
 But man is no more the master of his waking thoughts 
 than he is of those that come to him in sleep ; and the 
 dreams that visit him, whether his eyes are open or closed, 
 follow a development that is independent of his will, and 
 attach themselves, beneath his consciousness, to invisible 
 threads, which, vibrating at length in an unexpected 
 manner, reveal their existence. Then objects the most 
 incongruous come into relation, and thoughts the most in- 
 coherent fall into place; and one is visited by fugitive 
 gleams, which if they were not instantly extinguished 
 would perhaps disclose future events. One perceives then 
 that there is something wonderful in him, and compre- 
 hends that he is only a machine moved by invisible hands ; 
 and according as he is a fatalist or a believer in Provi- 
 dence, he bends beneath the unintelligent caprice of Chance, 
 or bows before the mysterious will of God. 
 
 Thus it was with D'Harmental. He had sought, by 
 looking at objects foreign to his remembrances and his 
 hopes, some distraction from his present situation ; and 
 he found only a sequel to his thoughts. 
 
 The young girl whom he had seen in the morning was 
 seated near her window, in order to take advantage of the 
 last rays of daylight ; she was working at some kind of 
 
SEE-SAW. 109 
 
 embroidery. Behind her the harpsichord was open, and 
 on a stool at her feet her greyhound slept the light sleep 
 of an animal destined by nature to be the guard of man, 
 waking at every noise which arose from the street, raising 
 its ears, and stretching out its elegant head over the 
 window-sill; then it lay down again, placing one of its 
 little paws upon its mistress's knees. All this was deli- 
 ciously lighted up by the rays of the sinking sun, which 
 penetrated into the room, sparkling on the steel orna- 
 ments of the harpsichord and the gold beading of the 
 picture-frames. The rest was in twilight. 
 
 Then it seemed to the chevalier — perhaps because of 
 the mood he was in when this picture caught his eye — 
 that this young girl with the calm and sweet face came 
 into his life like one of those personages who remain 
 behind the scenes until a given moment arrives, and then 
 in the second or third act make their entry to take part 
 in the action, and sometimes to change the denouement. 
 
 Since he had been of the age when one sees angels in 
 one's dreams, he had seen no one like her. She was a 
 combination of beauty, candor, and simplicity, such as 
 may be seen sometimes in those charming heads which 
 Greuze has copied, not from nature, but from the reflec- 
 tions in the mirror of his imagination. Then forgetting 
 everything, — the humble condition in which without 
 doubt she had been born, the street where he had found her, 
 the modest room which she had inhabited, — seeing nothing 
 in the woman except the woman herself, he attributed to 
 her a heart corresponding with her face, and thought 
 what would be the happiness of the man who should first 
 cause that heart to beat, who should be looked upon with 
 love by those beautiful eyes, and who in a first kiss 
 should gather from those lips, so fresh and so pure, that 
 flower of the soul, — the confession, "I love you." 
 
110 LE CHEVALIER D'HARMENTAL. 
 
 Such are the different aspects which the same objects 
 borrow from the situation of him who looks at them. 
 A week before, in the midst of his gayety, in his life 
 which no danger menaced, between a breakfast at the 
 tavern and a stag-hunt, between a wager at tennis and 
 a supper at La Fillon's, if D'Harmental had met this 
 young girl he would doubtless have seen in her noth- 
 ing but a charming grisette, whom he would have had 
 followed by his valet de chambre, and to whom the 
 next day he would have outrageously offered a present 
 of some twenty-five louis. 
 
 But the D'Harmental of a week ago existed no more. 
 In the place of the handsome seigneur — elegant, wild, dis- 
 sipated, and certain of life — was an isolated young man, 
 walking in the shade, alone, and self-reliant, without a 
 star to guide him, who might suddenly feel the earth 
 open under his feet, or the heavens burst above his head. 
 He had need of a support, so feeble was he ; he had need 
 of love ; he had need of poetry. It was not then wonder- 
 ful that searching for a Madonna to whom to address his 
 prayers, he raised in his imagination this young and beau- 
 tiful girl from the material and prosaic sphere in which 
 he found her, and that drawing her into his own he 
 placed her — not such as she was, doubtless, but such 
 as he wished her to be — on the empty pedestal of his 
 past adorations. 
 
 All at once the young girl raised her head, and hap- 
 pening to look in his direction saw the pensive figure 
 of the chevalier through the glass. It appeared evident 
 to her that the young man remained there on her account, 
 and that it was at her he was looking. Then a bright 
 blush spread over her face. However, she pretended she 
 had seen nothing, and bent her head once more over her 
 embroidery. But a minute afterward she rose, moved 
 
SEE-SAW. HI 
 
 carelessly about the room, and then without ostentation 
 or appearance of false prudery, but nevertheless with a 
 certain embarrassment, she returned and shut the win- 
 dow. D'Harmental remained where he was and as he 
 was, continuing, in spite of the shutting of the window, 
 to advance into the imaginary country where his thoughts 
 were straying. 
 
 Once or twice he thought that he saw the curtain of 
 his neighbor's window raised, as if she wished to know 
 whether he whose indiscretion had driven her from her 
 place was still at his. At last a few masterly chords were 
 heard ; a sweet harmony followed ; and then D'Harmen- 
 tal opened his window in his turn. 
 
 He had not been mistaken ; his neighbor was an ad- 
 mirable musician. She executed two or three little pieces, 
 but without blending her voice with the sound of the 
 instrument ; and D'Harmental found almost as much 
 pleasure in listening to her as he had found in looking 
 at her. Suddenly she stopped in the midst of a passage. 
 D'Harmental supposed either that she had seen him at 
 his window, and wished to punish him for his curiosity, 
 or that some one had come in and interrupted her. He 
 stepped back, but placed himself so as not to lose sight of 
 the window, and soon discovered that his last supposition 
 was the true one. 
 
 A man came to the window, raised the curtain, and 
 pressed his fat, good-natured face against the glass, while 
 with one hand he beat a march against the panes. The 
 chevalier recognized, in spite of a noticeable difference in 
 his toilet, the man of the water-jet whom he had seen on 
 the terrace in the morning, and who had twice pronounced 
 so familiarly the name of "Bathilde." 
 
 This figure, more than prosaic, produced the effect 
 which naturally might have been expected ; that is to 
 
112 LE CHEVALIER D'HARMENTAL. 
 
 say, it brought D'Harmental back from imaginary to real 
 life. He had forgotten this man, who made such a 
 strange and complete contrast with the young girl, and 
 who of course must be her father, her lover, or her hus- 
 band. But in either of these cases, what could there be 
 in common between the daughter, the wife, or the mis- 
 tress of such a man, and the noble and aristocratic cheva- 
 lier ? A woman- — and it is a misfortune springing from 
 her dependent situation — rises or falls according to the 
 grandeur or vulgarity of him on whose arm she leans; 
 and it must be confessed that the gardener was not 
 formed to maintain poor Bathilde at the height to which' 
 the chevalier had raised her in his dreams. 
 
 Then he began to laugh at his own folly ; and the night 
 having arrived, inasmuch as he had not been outside the 
 door since the day before, he determined to take a walk 
 through the town, in order to assure himself of the truth 
 of the Prince de Cellamare's reports. He wrapped him- 
 self in his cloak, descended the four stories, and bent his 
 steps toward the Luxembourg, whither, according to the 
 note which the Abb£ Brigaud had brought him in the 
 morning, the regent was going that evening, without 
 guards, to take supper with his daughter. 
 
 Arrived opposite the palace of the Luxembourg, the 
 chevalier saw none of those signs which should announce 
 that the Due d'Orleans was at his daughter's house. 
 There was only one sentinel at the door, whereas, from 
 the moment that the regent entered, a second was gen- 
 erally placed there. Besides, he saw no carriage waiting 
 in the court, no footmen nor outriders ; it was evident, 
 then, that Monsieur ie Due d'Orleans had not yet come. 
 The chevalier waited to see him pass, for as the regent 
 never breakfasted, and took nothing but a cup of choco- 
 late at two o'clock in the afternoon, he rarely supped later 
 
SEE-SAW. 113 
 
 than six o'clock ; and a quarter to six had struck at the 
 St. Sulpice at the moment when the chevalier turned the 
 corner of the Rue de Conde and the Rue de Vaugirard. 
 
 The chevalier waited an hour and a half in the Rue de 
 Tournon, going from the Rue du Petit-Lion to the palace, 
 without seeing what he had come to look for. At a quar- 
 ter to eight he saw signs of activity at the Luxembourg. 
 A carriage, with outriders armed with torches, came to the 
 foot of the steps. A minute later three women got in, 
 and he heard the coachman call to the outriders, " To the 
 Palais Royal ! " The outriders set off at a gallop, the car- 
 riage followed, the sentinel presented arms ; and though 
 the elegant equipage with the royal arms of France passed 
 him quickly, the chevalier recognized the Duchesse de 
 Berri, Madame de Mouchy, her lady of honor, and Ma- 
 dame de Pons, her tire-woman. 
 
 There had been an important error in the report sent to 
 the chevalier ; it was the daughter who went to the father, 
 not the father who went to the daughter. 
 
 Nevertheless, the chevalier still waited, for some acci- 
 dent might have happened to the regent, which had de- 
 tained him at home. An hour after, he saw the carriage 
 return. The Duchesse de Berri was laughing at a story 
 which Broglie was telling her. Then there had not been 
 any serious accident. The police of the Prince de Cella- 
 mare had made a mistake. 
 
 The chevalier returned home about ten o'clock without 
 having been recognized. He had some trouble to get the 
 door opened, for according to the patriarchal habits of 
 Madame Denis's house, the porter had gone to bed. He 
 came out grumbling to unfasten the bolts. D'Harmental 
 slipped a crown into his hand, saying to him, once for all, 
 that he should sometimes return late, but that every time 
 he did so he would give hirn the same gratuity ; upon 
 
 8 
 
114 LE CHEVALIER D'HARMENTAL. 
 
 which the porter thanked him, and assured him that he 
 was perfectly welcome to come home at any time he liked, 
 or even not to return at all. 
 
 On returning to his room, D'Harmental saw that his 
 neighbor's was lighted up ; he placed his candle behind 
 a piece of furniture, and approached the window, so that 
 as much as the muslin curtains allowed, he could see into 
 her room, while she could not see into his. 
 
 She was seated near a table, drawing probably on a 
 card which she held on her knees, for he saw her profile 
 standing out black against the light behind her. Shortly 
 another shadow, which the chevalier recognized as that of 
 the good man of the terrace, passed twice between the 
 light and the window. At last the shade approached the 
 young girl; she offered her forehead; the shadow imprinted 
 a kiss on it, and went away with his candle in his hand. 
 Directly afterward the windows of the fifth story were 
 lighted up. All these little circumstances spoke a lan- 
 guage which it was impossible not to understand. The 
 man of the terrace was not the husband of Bathilde ; he 
 must be her father. 
 
 D'Harmental, without knowing why, felt overjoyed at 
 this discovery ; he opened his window as softly as he 
 could, and leaned on the bar, which served him as a sup- 
 port, with his eyes fixed on the shadow. He fell into 
 the same re very out of which he had been startled that 
 morning by the grotesque appearance of the gardener. In 
 about an hour the girl rose, put down her card and cray- 
 ons on the table, advanced toward the alcove, knelt on 
 a chair before the second window, and offered up her 
 prayers. D'Harmental understood that her laborious task 
 was finished ; but remembering the curiosity of hi% beau- 
 tiful neighbor when he had begun to play the first time, 
 he wished to see if he could delay her retiring, and he 
 
SEE-SAW. 115 
 
 sat down to his spinet. What he had foreseen happened ; 
 at the first notes which reached her, the young girl, not 
 knowing that owing to the position of the light he could 
 see her shadow through the curtains, approached the win- 
 dow on tiptoe, and thinking herself hidden, she listened 
 to the melodious instrument, which, like the nightingale, 
 awoke to sing in the middle of the night. 
 
 The concert would have probably continued thus for 
 some hours, for D'Harinental, encouraged by the result 
 produced, was conscious of an energy and an ease of ex- 
 ecution such as he never had known before. Unluckily, 
 the occupier of the third floor was some clown not fond of 
 music ; and D'Harmental heard suddenly, just beneath his 
 feet, the noise of a stick knocking on the ceiling with 
 such violence that he could not doubt that it was a re- 
 quest to him to put off his melodious occupation till a 
 more suitable period. Under other circumstances, D'Har- 
 mental would have sent the impertinent marplot to the 
 devil ; but he reflected that any ill-feeling on the lodger's 
 part would injure his own reputation with Madame Denis, 
 and that he was playing too heavy a game to risk being 
 recognized through unwillingness to submit philosophi- 
 cally to all the inconveniences of the new position which 
 he had adopted. He therefore, instead of setting himself 
 in opposition to the rules established without doubt be- 
 tween Madame Denis and her lodgers, yielded to the 
 request, and forgot in what manner it had been conveyed 
 to him. 
 
 On her part, as soon as she heard nothing more, the 
 young girl left the window ; and as she let the inner cur- 
 tains fall behind her, she disappeared from D'Harmental's 
 eyes. For some time longer he could still see a light in 
 her room; then the light was extinguished. The window 
 on the fifth floor had been dark for two hours. D'Har 
 
116 LE CHEVALIER D'HARMENTAL. 
 
 mental also went to bed, happy in the thought that there 
 existed a point of sympathy between himself and his 
 neighbor. 
 
 The next day the Abbe Brigaud entered the room with his 
 accustomed punctuality. The chevalier had already been 
 up more than an hour; he had gone twenty times to his 
 window, but without seeing his neighbor, although it was 
 evident that she was up, even before himself ; indeed, on 
 waking, he had seen that the large curtains were put up in 
 their bands. Thus he was disposed to let out his ill- 
 humor on any one. 
 
 " Ah, pardieu / my dear Abbe," said he, as soon as the 
 door was shut, " congratulate the prince for me on his 
 police service ; it is admirably performed, on my honor." 
 
 " What have you to say against it 1 " asked the abbe, 
 with the half-smile which was habitual to him. 
 
 " What have I to say ? I have this : that last evening, 
 wishing to judge for myself of its reliability, I went and 
 hid myself in the Rue Tournon; that I remained there 
 four hours, and that it was not the regent who went to his 
 daughter, but Madame de Berri who went to her father." 
 
 " Well, we know that." 
 
 " Ah, you know that ! " said D'Harmental. 
 
 " Yes, and by this token, that she left the Luxembourg 
 at five minutes to eight, with Madame de Mouchy and 
 Madame de Pons, and that she returned at half-past nine, 
 bringing Broglie with her, who came to take the regent's 
 place at table." 
 
 " And where was the regent 1 " 
 
 " The regent 1 " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " That is another story ; you shall learn. Listen, and 
 do not lose a word ; then we shall see if you will say that 
 the prince's police service is badly performed." 
 
SEE-SAW. 117 
 
 •» I attend." 
 
 4t Our report announced that at three o'clock the duke- 
 regent would go to play tennis in the Rue de Seine." 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " He went. In about half an hour he went away, hold- 
 ing his handkerchief over his eyes. He had hit himself 
 on the brow with the racket, and with such violence that 
 he had torn the skin of his forehead." 
 
 " Ah, this, then, was the accident ! " 
 
 " Listen. Then the regent, instead of returning to the 
 Palais Royal, was driven to the house of Madame de 
 Sabran. You know where Madame de Sabran lives ? " 
 
 " She lived in the Rue de Tournon ; but since her hus- 
 band has become maitre d'hotel to the regent, she lives in 
 the Rue des Bons-Enfans, near the Palais Royal." 
 
 "Exactly; but it seems that Madame de Sabran, who 
 until, now was faithful to Richelieu, was touched by the 
 pitiable state in which she saw the prince, and wished to 
 justify the proverb, i Unlucky at play, lucky at love.' 
 The prince, by a little note, dated half-past seven, from 
 the drawing-room of Madame de Sabran, with whom he 
 supped, announced to Broglie that he should not go to the 
 Luxembourg, and charged him to go in his stead, and 
 make his excuses to the Duchesse de Berri." 
 
 " Ah, this, then, was the story which Broglie was tell- 
 ing, and at which the ladies were laughing." 
 
 " It is probable ; now do you understand 1 " 
 
 " Yes ; I understand that the regent is not possessed of 
 ubiquity, and could not be at the house of Madame de 
 Sabran and at his daughter's at the same time." 
 
 " And you understand only that 1 " 
 
 "My dear Abbe\ you speak like an oracle; explain 
 yourself." 
 
 " This evening, at eight o'clock, I will come for you ; 
 
118 LE CHEVALIER D>HARMENTAL. 
 
 we will go to the Eue des Bons-Enfans together. The 
 localities will speak for me." 
 
 " Ah, ah ! " said D'Harmental, " I see ; so near the 
 Palais Royal, he will go on foot. The hotel which Ma- 
 dame de Sabran inhabits has an entrance from the Rue 
 des Bons-Enfans. After a certain hoar they shut the pas- 
 sage from the Palais Royal which opens on the Rue des 
 Bons-Enfans ; and he will be obliged, on his return, to 
 follow either the Cour des Fontaines, or the Rue Neuve- 
 des-Bons-Enfans, and then we shall have him ! Mordieu / 
 Abbe, you are a great man, and if Monsieur du Maine 
 does not make you cardinal, or at least archbishop, there 
 is no longer any justice." 
 
 " I count confidently on that. Now, you understand, 
 it is time to make ready." 
 
 " I am ready." 
 
 " Have you the means of execution prepared 1 " 
 
 " I have." 
 
 " Then you can correspond with your men ? " 
 
 " By a sign." 
 
 " And that sign cannot betray you 1 " 
 
 " Impossible." 
 
 " Then all goes well, and we may have breakfast ; for I 
 was in such haste to tell you the good news that I came 
 out fasting." 
 
 " Breakfast, my dear Abbe ! you speak coolly ; I have 
 nothing to offer you except the remains of yesterday's 
 pdte and two or three bottles of wine, which I believe 
 survived the battle." 
 
 " Hum, hum," murmured the abbe ; " we will do bet- 
 ter than that, my dear Chevalier." 
 
 * I am at your orders." 
 
 " Let us go down and breakfast with our good hostess, 
 Madame Denis." 
 
SEE-SAW. 119 
 
 "And why do you want me to breakfast with her? 
 Do I know her?" 
 
 " That concerns me ; I shall present you as my 
 pupil." 
 
 " But we shall get a detestable breakfast." 
 
 " Comfort yourself ; I know her table." 
 
 u But this breakfast will be tiresome." 
 
 " But you will make a friend of a woman well known 
 in the neighborhood for her good conduct, for her devo- 
 tion to the Government, — a woman incapable of harbor- 
 ing a conspirator. Do you understand that 1 " 
 
 " If it be for the good of the cause, Abbe, I sacrifice 
 myself." 
 
 " Moreover, it is a very agreeable house, where there 
 are two young people who play, one on the spinet, and 
 the other on the guitar, and a young man who is an 
 attorney's clerk, — a house where you may go down on 
 Sunday evenings to play loto." 
 
 " Go to the devil with your Madame Denis ! Ah, par- 
 don, Abbe! perhaps you are her friend. In that case, 
 imagine that I have said nothing." 
 
 " I am her confessor," replied the Abbe Brigaud, with 
 a modest air. 
 
 " Then a thousand excuses, my dear Abbe" j but you 
 are right indeed. Madame Denis is still a beautiful 
 woman, perfectly well preserved, with superb hands and 
 very pretty feet. Peste / I remember that. Go .down 
 first ; I will follow." 
 
 "Why not together?" 
 
 "But my toilet, Abbe. Would you have me appear 
 before the Demoiselles Denis with my hair in its present 
 state 1 Devil take it ! one owes something to his appear- 
 ance. Besides, it is better that you should announce me, 
 I have not a confessor's privilege." 
 
120 LE CHEVALIER D'HARMENTAL. 
 
 " You are right. I will go down and announce you, 
 and in ten minutes you will arrive ; will you not 1 " 
 
 " In ten minutes." 
 
 "Adieu!" 
 
 " Au revoir ! " 
 
 The chevalier had told only half the truth. He re- 
 mained partly to dress, perhaps, but also in the hope of 
 seeing his beautiful neighbor, of whom he had dreamed 
 all the night ; but his hope was disappointed. He hid 
 himself behind the curtains of his window ; those of the 
 young girl with the fair hair and the beautiful black eyes 
 remained closed. It is true that by way of compensation 
 he could perceive the horticulturist, who, opening his 
 door, passed out, with the same precaution as the day 
 before, first his hand, then his head ; but this time his 
 boldness went no further, for there was a slight fog, 
 and fog is essentially contrary to the organization of 
 the Parisian bourgeois. Therefore our bourgeois coughed 
 twice, and then, drawing in his head and his arm, re- 
 entered his room like a tortoise withdrawing into his 
 shell. D'Harmental saw with pleasure that he might 
 dispense with a barometer, and that this neighbor would 
 render him the same service as those excellent wooden 
 monks who come out from their hermitage in fair weather, 
 and remain obstinately housed on the days when it 
 rains. 
 
 The apparition had its ordinary effect, and reacted on 
 poor Bathilde. Every time that D'Harmental perceived 
 the young girl, there was in her such a sweet attraction 
 that he saw nothing but the woman, — young, beautiful, 
 and graceful, a musician and painter ; that is to say, the 
 most pleasing and most complete creature he ever had met. 
 But when, in his turn, the man of the terrace presented 
 himself to the chevalier's gaze, — with his common face, 
 
SEE-SAW. 121 
 
 his insignificant figure, and that indelible appearance of 
 vulgarity which attaches to certain individuals, — directly 
 a sort of miraculous transition took place in the cheva- 
 lier's mind. All the poetry disappeared, as a machinist's 
 whistle causes the disappearance of a fairy palace. Every- 
 thing was seen by a different light; and D'Harmental's 
 native aristocracy regained the ascendency. Bathilde was 
 then nothing but the daughter of this man ; that is to 
 say, a grisette. Her beauty, her grace, her elegance, even 
 her talents, were but an accident, an error of ISfature, 
 like a rose flowering on a cabbage-stalk. The chevalier 
 shrugged his shoulders as he stood before the glass, be- 
 gan to laugh, and to wonder at the impression which he 
 had received. He attributed it to the preoccupation of 
 his mind, to the strange and solitary situation, to every- 
 thing, in fact, except its true cause, — the sovereign and 
 irresistible power of distinction and beauty. 
 
 D'Harmental therefore went down to his hostess in 
 a state of mind rendering him peculiarly susceptible to 
 the charms of Mesdemoiselles Denis. 
 
122 LE CHEVALIER D'HARMENTAL. 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 THE DENIS FAMILY. 
 
 Madame Denis did not think it proper that two young 
 persons as innocent as her daughters should breakfast 
 with a young man who, although he had been only 
 three days in Paris, already came in at eleven o'clock 
 at night, and played on the harpsichord till two in the 
 morning. In vain the Abbe Brigaud affirmed that this 
 double infraction of the rules of her house, should in no 
 degree lower her opinion of his pupil, for whom he could 
 answer as for himself. All he could obtain was that the 
 young ladies should appear at the dessert. 
 
 But the chevalier soon perceived that if their mother 
 had ordered them not to be seen, she had not forbidden 
 them to be heard ; for scarcely were they at table, round 
 a veritable devotee's breakfast, composed of a multitude of 
 little dishes tempting to the eye and delicious to the pal- 
 ate, when the sounds of a spinet were heard, accompa- 
 nying a voice which was not wanting in compass, but 
 whose frequent errors of intonation showed lamentable 
 inexperience. At the first notes Madame Denis placed 
 her hand on the abbe's arm ; then after an instant's 
 silence, during which she listened with a pleased smile 
 to that music which made the chevalier's flesh creep, 
 " Do you hear 1 " she said. " It is our Athenais who is 
 playing, and it is Emilie who sings." 
 
 The Abbe Brigaud, making a sign with his head that 
 he heard perfectly, trod on D'Harmental's foot under the 
 
THE DENIS FAMILY. 123 
 
 table, to hint that this was an opportunity for paying 
 a compliment. 
 
 "Madame," said the chevalier, who understood this 
 appeal to his politeness, "we are doubly indebted to 
 you ; for you offer us not only an excellent breakfast, 
 but a delightful concert." 
 
 "Yes," replied Madame Denis, carelessly, "it is those 
 children. They do not know you are here, and they are 
 practising; but I will go and tell them to stop." 
 
 Madame Denis made a movement, as if about to 
 rise. 
 
 " What, Madame ! " said D'Harmental ; " because I 
 come from the country do you believe me unworthy to 
 make acquaintance with the talents of the capital?" 
 
 "God forbid, Monsieur, that I should have such an 
 opinion of you," said Madame Denis, slyly, " for I know 
 you are a musician ; the lodger on the third story has 
 told me so." 
 
 " In that case, Madame, I fear he gave you no flattering 
 account of my skill," replied the chevalier, laughing; "for 
 he seemed not to appreciate the little I may possess." 
 
 " He only said that it appeared to him a strange time 
 for music. But listen, Monsieur Raoul," added Madame 
 Denis, inclining her head toward the door ; " the parts 
 are changed. Now, my dear Abb£, it is our Athenais 
 who sings, and it is Emilie who accompanies her on the 
 guitar." 
 
 It appeared that Madame Denis had a weakness for 
 Athenais ; for instead of talking, as she did when Emilie 
 was singing, she listened throughout to the romance of her 
 favorite, her eyes tenderly fixed on the Abbe Brigaud, 
 who, still eating and drinking, contented himself with 
 nodding his head in sign of approbation. Athenais sang 
 a little more correctly than her sister, but she offset this 
 
124 LE CHEVALIER D'HARMENTAL. 
 
 merit by a defect at least equivalent, in the estimation of 
 the chevalier, — she had a voice of surprising vulgarity. 
 
 As to Madame Denis, she beat wrong time with 
 her head, with an air of beatitude which did infinitely 
 more honor to her maternal pride than to her musical 
 intelligence. 
 
 A duet succeeded to the solos. The young ladies ap- 
 peared determined to give their whole repertoire. D'Har- 
 mental, in his turn, sought under the table for the abbe's 
 feet, to crush at least one of them ; but he only found 
 those of Madame Denis, who, taking this for a personal 
 attention, turned graciously toward him. 
 
 "So then, Monsieur Kaoul," she said, "you come, 
 young and inexperienced, to brave all the dangers of 
 the capital % " 
 
 " Yes," said the Abbe Brigaud, taking upon himself to 
 answer, for fear that D'Harmental might not be able to 
 resist answering by some joke. "You see in this young 
 man, Madame Denis, the son of a friend who was very 
 dear to me " (the abbe put his napkin to his eyes), " and 
 I hope that he will do credit to the care I have bestowed 
 on his education ; for though he may not appear so, my 
 pupil is ambitious." 
 
 "And Monsieur is right," replied Madame Denis; " for 
 with his talents and appearance, there is no saying to 
 what he may attain." 
 
 "Ah, but, Madame Denis," said the Abbe Brigaud, 
 " if you spoil him thus, I shall not bring him to you again. 
 My dear Raoul," continued the abbe, addressing him in 
 a paternal manner, " I hope you will not believe a word 
 of all this." Then, whispering to Madame Denis, " Such 
 as you see him, he might have remained at Sauvigny, and 
 taken the first place after the squire. He has three thou- 
 sand francs a year in the funds." 
 
THE DENIS FAMILY. 125 
 
 " That is exactly what I intend giving to each of my 
 daughters," replied Madame Denis, raising her voice so as 
 to be heard by the chevalier, and giving a side-glance to 
 discover what effect the announcement of such munifi- 
 cence would have upon him. 
 
 Unfortunately for the future establishment of Mesdemoi- 
 selles Denis, the chevalier was at that moment thinking 
 of quite another matter than of uniting the three thou- 
 sand francs which this generous mother gave to her daugh- 
 ters to the thousand crowns a year which the Abbe 
 Brigaud had bestowed on him. The shrill treble of 
 Mademoiselle ^milie, the contralto of Mademoiselle Athe'- 
 nai's, and the wretched accompaniment of both had re- 
 called to his recollection the pure and flexible voice and 
 the distinguished execution of his neighbor. And conse- 
 quently, thanks to that singular power which a great pre- 
 occupation gives us against exterior objects, the chevalier 
 had been oblivious to the discordant sounds proceeding 
 from the adjoining room, and taking refuge in himself, 
 was following a sweet melody which floated in his mem- 
 ory, and which protected him, like an enchanted armor, 
 from the sharp sounds which were flying around him. 
 
 " How he listens ! " said Madame Denis to Brigaud. 
 " 'T is worth while taking trouble for a young man like 
 that. I shall have a bone to pick with Monsieur Fremond." 
 
 " Who is Monsieur Fremond 1 " said the abbe, pouring 
 himself out something to drink. 
 
 " He is the lodger on the third floor. A contemptible 
 little fellow with twelve hundred francs a year, whose 
 temper has caused me to have quarrels with every one in 
 the house, and who came to complain that Monsieur 
 Eaoul prevented him and his dog from sleeping." 
 
 "My dear Madame Denis," replied the abbe, "you 
 must not quarrel with Monsieur Fremond for that. Two 
 
126 LE CHEVALIER D'HARMENTAL. 
 
 o'clock in the morning is an unreasonable time ; and if 
 my pupil must sit up till then, he must play in the day- 
 time and draw in the evening." 
 
 " What ! Monsieur Raoul draws also ? " cried Madame 
 Denis, quite astonished at so much talent. 
 
 " Draws like Mignard." 
 
 "Oh, my dear Abbe," said Madame Denis, clasping 
 her hands, "if we could but obtain one thing." 
 
 "Whatl" asked the abbe. 
 
 " That he would take the portrait of our Athenai's ! " 
 
 The chevalier awoke suddenly from his revery, like a 
 traveller who, asleep on the grass } becomes aware that a 
 serpent is near, and instinctively understands that a great 
 danger threatens him. 
 
 " Abbe ! " he cried with a frightened air, and glaring 
 furiously at poor Brigaud, M Abbe, no foolishness ! " 
 
 " Oh, what is the matter with your pupil 1 " asked 
 Madame Denis, quite alarmed. 
 
 Happily, at the moment when the abbe, uncertain how 
 to answer Madame Denis's question, was seeking a sub- 
 terfuge, the door opened, and the two young ladies en- 
 tered blushing; and stepping from right to left, each 
 made a reverence as in a minuet. 
 
 " Well ! " said Madame Denis, affecting an air of sever- 
 ity, "what is this? Who gave you permission to leave 
 your room 1" 
 
 " Mamma," replied a voice which the chevalier recog- 
 nized by its shrill tones as that of Mademoiselle Emilie, 
 " we beg pardon if we have done wrong, and are willing 
 to return." 
 
 " But, Mamma," said another voice, which the chevalier 
 concluded must belong to Mademoiselle Athenais, "we 
 thought that it was agreed that we were to come in at 
 
THE DENIS FAMILY. 127 
 
 H Well, come in, since you are here j it would be ridicu- 
 lous now for you to go back. Besides," added Madame 
 Denis, seating Athenais between herself and Brigaud, and 
 Emilie between herself and the chevalier, " young persons 
 are always best — are they not, Abbe? — under their 
 mother's wing." And Madame Denis presented to her 
 daughters a plate of bonbons, from which they helped 
 themselves with a modest air which did honor to their 
 education. 
 
 The chevalier, during the discourse and action of 
 Madame Denis, had time to examine her daughters. 
 
 Mademoiselle Emilie was tall and stiff, from twenty- 
 two to twenty-three years old, and was said to be very 
 much like her late father, — an advantage which did not 
 apparently suffice to gain for her in the maternal heart an 
 affection equal to that which Madame Denis entertained 
 for her other two children. Thus poor Emilie, always 
 afraid of being scolded, retained a natural awkwardness 
 which the repeated lessons of her dancing-master had not 
 been able to overcome. 
 
 Mademoiselle Athenais, on the contrary, was small, 
 plump, and rosy, and thanks to her sixteen or seventeen 
 years, had what is vulgarly called "the devil's beauty." 
 She did not resemble either Monsieur or Madame Denis, — 
 a singularity which had much exercised the evil tongues 
 of the Rue St. Martin before Madame Denis went to occupy 
 the house which her husband had bought in the Rue du 
 Temps-Perdu. In spite of this absence of all likeness to 
 her parents, Mademoiselle Athenais was the declared favorite 
 of her mother, which gave her the assurance that poor 
 Emilie wanted. Athenais, however, it must be said, 
 always profited by this favor to excuse the pretended 
 faults of her elder sister. The chevalier, who as an artist 
 was a student of faces, thought he discovered at the first 
 
128 LE CHEVALIER D'HARMENTAL. 
 
 glance, between the face of Athena'is and that of Abbe* 
 Brigaud, certain lines of resemblance, which, joined to a 
 singular correspondence of figure, might have guided a 
 curious investigator to a discovery of the paternity sought, 
 if such investigation were not wisely prohibited by our laws. 
 
 Although it was scarcely eleven o'clock in the morning, 
 the two sisters were dressed as if for a ball, and carried 
 all the trinkets they possessed on their necks, arms, and 
 ears. 
 
 This sight, so conformable to the idea which D'Har- 
 mental had formed beforehand of the daughters of his 
 landlady, gave him a new subject for reflection. Since 
 the Demoiselles Denis were so exactly what they ought to 
 be, — that is to say, in such complete harmony with their 
 position and education, — why was Bathilde, who seemed 
 hardly equal to them in rank, as visibly distinguished as 
 they were vulgar? Whence came this immense physical 
 and moral difference between girls of the same class and 
 age 1 There must be some secret underlying that, which 
 the chevalier would no doubt know some day or other. 
 
 A second pressure of the Abbe Brigaud's foot against 
 that of D'Harmental made him understand that however 
 just his reflections were, he had chosen a bad moment for 
 abandoning himself to them. Indeed, Madame Denis 
 assumed so significant an air of dignity that D'Harmental 
 saw that he had not an instant to lose if he wished to 
 efface from her mind the bad impression which his dis- 
 traction had caused. 
 
 "Madame," said he, immediately, with the most gracious 
 air he could assume, " that which I already see of your 
 family fills me with the most lively desire to become more 
 completely acquainted with it. Is not your son at home, 
 and shall I not have the pleasure of being presented to 
 him?" 
 
THE DENIS FAMILY. 129 
 
 "Monsieur," answered Madame Denis, to whom so 
 amiable an address had restored all her good-humor, 
 "my son is with Maitre Joulu, his master; and unless 
 his business brings him this way, it is improbable that 
 he will have this morning the honor of making your 
 acquaintance." 
 
 "Parhleu! my dear pupil," said the Abbe Brigaud, 
 extending his hand toward the door, " you are like the 
 late Aladdin. It is enough for you to express a wish, 
 and it is fulfilled." 
 
 Indeed, at this moment they heard on the staircase 
 the song about Marlborough, which at this time had all 
 the charm of novelty ; the door was thrown open, and 
 gave entrance to a boy with a laughing face, who much 
 resembled Mademoiselle Athenai's. 
 
 " Good, good, good ! " said the new-comer, crossing his 
 arms, and remarking the ordinary number of his family 
 increased by the abbe and the chevalier. " Not bad, 
 Madame Denis; she sends Boniface to his office with a 
 bit of bread and cheese, saying, ' Beware of indigestion,* 
 and in his absence she gives receptions and breakfasts. 
 Luckily, poor Boniface has a good nose. He comes 
 through the Eue Montmartre ; he snuffs the wind, and 
 says, • What is going on there at No. 5 Rue du Temps- 
 Perdu V So he came, and here he is. Make a place for 
 one." And joining action to the word, Boniface drew a 
 chair to the table, and sat down between the abbe* and 
 the chevalier. 
 
 "Monsieur Boniface," said Madame Denis, trying to 
 assume a severe air, "do you not see that there are 
 strangers here 1 ?" 
 
 " Strangers ! " said Boniface, taking a dish on the table, 
 and setting it before himself; "and where are these 
 strangers'? Are you one, Papa Brigaud? Are you one, 
 
130 LE CHEVALIER D'HARMENTAL. 
 
 Monsieur Raoul? You are not a stranger; you are a 
 lodger." And taking a knife and fork, he set to work 
 in a manner to make up for lost time. 
 
 " Pardieu ! Madame," said the chevalier, " I see with 
 pleasure that I am further advanced than I thought I 
 was. I did not know that I had the honor of being 
 known to Monsieur Boniface." 
 
 " It would be odd if I did not know you," said the 
 lawyer's clerk, with his mouth full; "you have my 
 bedroom." 
 
 " What, Madame Denis ! " said D'Harmental, " you 
 left me in ignorance that I had the honor to succeed in 
 my room to the heir-apparent of your family. I am no 
 longer astonished at finding my room so gayly fitted up ; 
 I recognize the cares of a mother." 
 
 " Yes, much good may it do you ; but I have one bit 
 of advice to give you. Don't look out of the window 
 too much." 
 
 " Why % " asked D'Harmental. 
 
 " Why 1 because you have a certain neighbor opposite 
 you — " 
 
 "Mademoiselle Bathilde," said the chevalier, carried 
 away by bis first impulse. 
 
 " Ah ! you know that already % " answered Boniface ; 
 " good, good, good ! that will do ! " 
 
 " Will you be quiet, Monsieur ! " cried Madame Denis. 
 
 "Listen ! " answered Boniface; "one must inform one's 
 lodgers when one has prohibited things about one's house. 
 You are not in a lawyer's office; you do not know 
 that." 
 
 " The child is full of wit," said the Abbe Brigaud, in 
 that bantering tone which made it impossible to know 
 whether he was serious or not. 
 
 " But," answered Madame Denis, " what do you pretend 
 
THE DENIS FAMILY. 131 
 
 there is in common between Monsieur Raoul and Ma- 
 demoiselle Bathilde 'I " 
 
 "What in common"? Why, in a week he will be madly 
 in love with her, or he is not a man; and it is not worth 
 while to love a coquette." 
 
 " A coquette 1 " said D'Harmental. 
 
 " Yes, a coquette, — a coquette," said Boniface ; " I have 
 said it, and I do not draw back. A coquette, who flirts 
 with the young men and lives with an old one, without 
 counting that little brute of a Mirza, who ate up all my 
 bonbons, and now, whenever she sees me, wants to bite 
 my calves." 
 
 " Leave the room, Mesdemoiselles," cried Madame Denis, 
 rising and making her daughters rise also. "Leave the 
 room. Ears so pure as yours ought not to hear such 
 things." And she pushed Mademoiselle Athenais and 
 Mademoiselle Emilie toward the door of their room, and 
 went out with them. 
 
 As to D'Harmental, he felt a violent desire to break 
 Boniface's head with a wine-bottle. Nevertheless, seeing 
 the absurdity of the situation, he made an effort and re- 
 strained himself. "But," said he, "I thought that the 
 bourgeois whom I saw on the terrace, — for no doubt it is 
 of him that you speak, Monsieur Boniface — " 
 
 "Of himself, the old rascal; what did you think of 
 him?" 
 
 " That he was her father." 
 
 "Her father! not quite. Mademoiselle Bathilde has 
 no father." 
 
 " Then at least her uncle ? " 
 
 " Her uncle after the Bretagne fashion, perhaps, but in 
 no other manner." 
 
 " Monsieur," said Madame Denis, majestically, coming 
 out of the room to the most distant part of which she had 
 
132 
 
 doubtless consigned her daughters, " I have asked you 
 once for all not to talk improprieties before your sisters." 
 
 "Ah, yes," said Boniface, "my sisters; do you believe 
 that at their age they cannot understand what I said, — 
 particularly ]£milie, who is twenty-three years old 1 " 
 
 "Emilie is as innocent as a new-born child," said 
 Madame Denis, seating herself between Brigaud and 
 D'Harmental. 
 
 " I should advise you not to reckon on that. I found 
 a pretty romance for Lent in our innocent's room. I will 
 show it to you, Pere Brigaud ; you are her confessor, and 
 we shall see if you gave her permission to read her prayers 
 from it." 
 
 " Hold your tongue, mischief-maker ! " said the abbe" ; 
 " do you not see how you are grieving your mother?" 
 
 Indeed, Madame Denis, suffocating with shame that 
 such a stigma should be attached to her daughter's repu- 
 tation in the presence of a young man on whom, with a 
 mother's foresight, she had already begun to cast an eye, 
 was nearly fainting. There is nothing in which men be- 
 lieve less than in women's faintings, and yet there is 
 nothing to which they give way more easily. Whether 
 he believed in it or not, D'Harmental was too polite not 
 to show his hostess some attention in such circumstances. 
 He advanced toward her with his arms extended. Madame 
 Denis no sooner saw this support offered to her than she 
 let herself fall, and throwing her head back, fainted in the 
 chevalier's arms. 
 
 " Abbe," said D'Harmental, while Boniface profited by 
 the circumstance to fill his pockets with all the bonbons 
 left on the table, " bring a chair." 
 
 The abbe pushed forward a chair with the nonchalance 
 of a man accustomed to such incidents, and quite uncon- 
 cerned as to their consequences. 
 
THE DENIS FAMILY. 133 
 
 They seated Madame Denis, and D'Harmental gave her 
 some salts to inhale, while the Abbe Brigaud tapped softly 
 the palms of her hands. But in spite of these cares 
 Madame Denis did not appear disposed to return to her- 
 self. Suddenly, however, when they least expected it, 
 she started to her feet as if moved by a spring, and gave 
 a loud cry. 
 
 D'Harmental thought that a fit of hysterics was fol- 
 lowing the fainting. He was truly frightened, there 
 was such an accent of reality in the scream that the 
 poor woman gave. 
 
 "It is nothing," said Boniface; "I have only emptied 
 the water-bottle down her back. That is what brought 
 her to ; you see she did n't know how to manage her 
 coming back to her senses. Well, what ? " continued the 
 pitiless fellow, seeing Madame Denis look angrily at him ; 
 " it is I. Do you not recognize me, Mother Denis 2 It is 
 your little Boniface, who loves you so." 
 
 "Madame," said D'Harmental, much embarrassed at the 
 situation, "I am truly distressed at what has occurred." 
 
 "Oh, Monsieur," cried Madame Denis, weeping, "I 
 am indeed unfortunate." 
 
 "Come, come; do not cry, Mother Denis, you are 
 already wet enough," said Boniface. "You had better 
 go and change your linen; there is nothing so bad for 
 the health as wet clothes." 
 
 "The child is full of sense," said Brigaud; "and I 
 think you had better follow his advice." 
 
 " If I might join my entreaties to those of the abbe," 
 said D'Harmental, "I should beg you, Madame, not to 
 inconvenience yourself for us. Besides, we were about 
 to take leave of you." 
 
 "And you, also, Abbe?" said Madame Denis, with 
 a distressed look at Brigaud. 
 
134 LE CHEVALIER D'HARMENTAL. 
 
 • " As for me," said Brigaud, who did not seem to fancy 
 the part of comforter, " I am expected at the Hotel Col- 
 bert, and I must leave you." 
 
 " Adieu, then," said Madame Denis, making a reverence, 
 the dignity of which was somewhat impaired by the 
 water trickling down her back. 
 
 "Adieu, Mother," said Boniface, throwing his arms 
 round her neck with the assurance of a spoiled child. 
 " Have you nothing to say to Maitre Joulu % " 
 
 " Adieu, you rogue," replied the poor woman, embrac- 
 ing her son, — half smiling already, and still half angry, 
 but yielding to that attraction which a mother cannot 
 resist, — " adieu, and be steady." 
 
 " As an image, Mother Denis, but on condition that 
 you will give us a nice little dish of sweets for dinner." 
 And the third clerk of Maitre Joulu went out, dancing, 
 to join the Abbe Brigaud and D'Harmental, who were 
 already on the landing. 
 
 " Well, well," said the abbe, lifting his hand quickly to 
 his waistcoat pocket, " what are you doing there 1 " 
 
 " Don't worry, Papa Brigaud ; I am only trying to dis- 
 cover whether there is not a crown in your pocket for 
 your friend Boniface." 
 
 " Here," said the abbe, — " here is one ; and now leave 
 us alone." 
 
 " Papa Brigaud," said Boniface, in the effusion of his 
 gratitude, " you have the heart of a cardinal ; and if the 
 king makes you only an archbishop, on my honor you 
 will be cheated of half your dues. Adieu, Monsieur 
 Baoul," he continued, addressing the chevalier as famil- 
 iarly as if he had known him for years. " I repeat, 
 be careful about Mademoiselle Bathilde if you wish to 
 keep your heart, and give some sweetmeats to Mirza if 
 you have any regard for your legs ; " and holding by 
 
THE DENIS FAMILY. 135 
 
 the baluster, he cleared the first flight of twelve steps at 
 one bound, and reached the street door without having 
 touched a stair. 
 
 Brigaud descended more quietly behind him, after ap- 
 pointing a meeting with the chevalier at eight o'clock 
 in the evening. 
 
 As to D'Harmental, he went back thoughtfully to 
 his attic. 
 
(b 
 
 LE CHEVALIER D'HARMENTAL. 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 THE CRIMSON RIBBON. 
 
 What occupied the mind of the chevalier was neither the 
 approaching denouement of the drama in which he had 
 chosen so important a part, nor the admirable prudence of 
 the Abbe Brigaud in placing him in a house which he 
 habitually visited almost daily, so that his visits, however 
 frequent, could not excite remark. It was not the majes- 
 tic diction of Madame Denis, nor the soprano of Mademoi- 
 selle 6milie:, nor the contralto of Mademoiselle Athenais, 
 nor the tricks of Monsieur Boniface. It was simply poor 
 Bathilde, whom he had heard so lightly mentioned ; but 
 our reader would be mistaken if he supposed that Mon- 
 sieur Boniface's brutal accusation had in the least degree 
 altered the sentiments of the chevalier for the young girl. 
 Its first effect had indeed been a painful impression, a 
 sentiment of disgust ; but an instant's reflection showed 
 him that such an alliance as that imputed to her was 
 impossible. 
 
 Chance may give a charming daughter to an undistin- 
 guished father ; necessity may unite a young and elegant 
 woman to an old and vulgar husband ; but a liaison, such 
 as that attributed to the young girl and the bourgeois of 
 the terrace, can result only from love or interest. Now 
 between these two, so different in all respects, there could 
 be no love; and as to interest, the thing was still less 
 probable, for if they were not in absolute poverty, their 
 situation was certainly not above mediocrity, — not that 
 
THE CRIMSON RIBBON. 137 
 
 gilded mediocrity of which Horace speaks, with a country 
 house at Tibur or at Montmorency, and which enjoys 
 a pension of thirty thousand sestercia from the Augustan 
 treasury, or a government annuity of six thousand francs, 
 but that poor and miserable mediocrity in which provision 
 is made only from hand to mouth, and which is prevented 
 from becoming real poverty only by incessant labor night 
 and day. 
 
 The only conclusion D'Harmental could derive from 
 these reflections was the certainty that Bathilde was 
 neither the daughter, wife, nor mistress of this terrible 
 neighbor, the sight of whom had sufficed to produce such 
 a strange reaction on the growing love of the chevalier. 
 And therefore, if she stood to him in no one of these three 
 relations, there must be some mystery about her birth ; 
 and if so, Bathilde was not what she appeared to be. 
 This' supposition would explain everything. That aristo- 
 cratic beauty, that charming grace, and that accomplished 
 education were no longer an enigma without a key. Ba- 
 thilde was above the position which she was temporarily 
 forced to occupy; there had been in the deetiny of this 
 young girl one of those overthrows of fortune which are 
 for individuals what earthquakes are for towns, and she 
 had been forced to descend to the inferior sphere in which 
 he found her. She was like those fallen angels who are 
 compelled for a certain time to live among men, while 
 awaiting the day when God will restore to them the 
 wings on which they will mount to heaven. 
 
 The result of all this was that the chevalier, without 
 loss of self-respect, might allow himself to love Bathilde. 
 When a man's heart is at war with his pride, it seldom 
 wants excuses to defeat its haughty enemy. Bathilde 
 had now neither name nor family, and nothing prevented 
 the imagination of the man who loved her from raising 
 
138 LE CHEVALIER D'HARMENTAL. 
 
 her to a height of which she would not have dared to 
 dream. 
 
 Consequently, far from following the advice which 
 Monsieur Boniface had so kindly given him, the first 
 thing D'Harmental did on returning to his room was to 
 go to his window and inspect that of his neighbor. It 
 was wide open. If a week before any one had told the 
 chevalier that 'such a simple thing as an open window 
 would have made his heart beat, he would have laughed 
 at the idea. However, so it was. And after drawing 
 a long breath, he settled himself in a corner, to watch 
 at his ease the young girl in the opposite room, with- 
 out being seen by her; for he was afraid of frightening 
 her by an attention which she could attribute only to 
 curiosity. 
 
 Very soon, however, D'Harmental perceived that the 
 room was unoccupied ; for the active and industrious 
 young girl would certainly have passed many times before 
 his eyes if she had not been absent. He therefore opened 
 his window, and at the noise he made in doing so, he saw 
 the elegant head of the greyhound, which, with her ears 
 always on the watch, well worthy of the trust that her 
 mistress had reposed in her in making her guardian of 
 the house, was awake, and looking to see who it was 
 that thus disturbed her sleep. 
 
 Thanks to the indiscreet counter-tenor of the good man 
 of the terrace, and the malice of Monsieur Boniface, the 
 chevalier already knew two things very important to 
 know; namely, that his neighbor was called Bathilde, 
 — a sweet and euphonious appellation, suitable to a 
 young, beautiful, and graceful girl, — and that the grey- 
 hound was called Mirza, a name which seemed to indi- 
 cate a no less distinguished rank in the canine aristocracy. 
 Now, as nothing is to be disdained when we wish to con- 
 
THE CRIMSON RIBBON. 139 
 
 qner a fortress, and the smallest intelligence from within 
 is often more efficacious than the most terrible machines 
 of war, D'Harmental resolved to begin by opening com- 
 munications with the greyhound; and with the most 
 caressing tone he could give to his voice, he called, 
 " Mirza ! " Mirza, who was indolently lying on the 
 cushion, raised her head quickly, with an unmistakable 
 expression of astonishment. Indeed, it must have ap- 
 peared strange to the intelligent little animal that a man 
 so unknown to her as the chevalier should address her by 
 her Christian name. She contented herself with fixing 
 on him her uneasy eyes, — which, in the half-light 
 where she was placed, sparkled like two carbuncles, — 
 and uttering a little dull sound which might pass for a 
 growl. 
 
 D'Harmental remembered that the Marquis d'Uxelles 
 had tamed the spaniel of Mademoiselle Choin, which was 
 a much more peevish beast than any greyhound in the 
 world, with roast rabbit's heads ; and that he had received 
 for this delicate attention the baton of Marechal de France. 
 He did not despair of being able to soften by the same 
 kind of attention the surly reception which Mademoiselle 
 Mirza had given to his advances, and he directed his steps 
 toward the sugar-basin ; then he returned to the window, 
 armed with two pieces of sugar, large enough to be divided 
 ad infinitum. 
 
 The chevalier was not mistaken. When the first piece 
 of sugar fell near her, Mirza advanced her head indiffer- 
 ently ; then, being by the aid of smell made aware of the 
 nature of the temptation offered to her, she extended her 
 paw toward it, drew it toward her, took it in her teeth, 
 and began to eat it with that languid air peculiar to the 
 race to which she belonged. This operation finished, she 
 passed over her lips a little red tongue, which showed 
 
140 LE CHEVALIER D'HARMENTAL. 
 
 that in spite of her apparent indifference, which was 
 owing, no doubt, to her excellent education, she was not 
 insensible to the surprise her neighbor had contrived for 
 her. Instead of lying down again on the cushion, she re- 
 mained seated, yawning languidly, but wagging her tail, 
 to show that she would wake entirely after two or three 
 such little attentions as had just been paid to her. 
 
 D'Harmental, who was well acquainted with the habits 
 of the pet dogs belonging to the pretty women of the day, 
 understood the amiable intentions of Mirza, and not wish- 
 ing to give her time to change her mind, threw a second 
 piece of sugar, taking care this time that it should fall at 
 such a distance as to oblige her to leave her cushion to 
 get it. This test would decide whether she was most 
 inclined to laziness or greediness. Mirza remained an 
 instant uncertain ; then greediness carried the day, and 
 she went across the room to get the piece of sugar, which 
 had rolled under the harpsichord. At this moment a 
 third piece fell near the window, and Mirza, still obedient 
 to the laws of attraction, proceeded from the second to the 
 third, as she had proceeded from the first to the second. 
 But there the liberality of the chevalier stopped; he 
 thought that he had now given enough to entitle him to 
 expect some return, and he contented himself with call- 
 ing Mirza in a more imperative tone than before, and 
 showing her the other pieces of sugar which he held in 
 his hand. 
 
 Mirza this time, instead of looking at the chevalier 
 with uneasiness or disdain, rested her paws on the 
 window-sill, and began to behave as she would to an 
 old acquaintance. It was finished ; Mirza was tamed. 
 
 The chevalier now in his turn began to treat Mirza 
 with disdain, and to speak to her, in order to accustom 
 her to his voice. Meanwhile, fearing a return of pride on 
 
THE CRIMSON RIBBON. 141 
 
 the part of his interlocutor, who sustained her part in the 
 dialogue by little whines and subdued barking, he threw 
 her a fourth piece of sugar, which she seized with greater 
 avidity for having been kept waiting. This time, without 
 being called, she came back to her place at the window. 
 The chevalier's triumph was complete, — so complete that 
 Mirza, who the day before had given signs of so superior 
 an intelligence in discovering Bathilde's return, and in 
 running to the door as she ascended the staircase, this 
 time discovered neither the one nor the other, so that her 
 mistress, entering suddenly, surprised her in the midst of 
 these coquetries with her neighbor. It is but just to say, 
 however, that at the noise the door made in opening, 
 Mirza turned, and recognizing Bathilde, bounded toward 
 her, and lavished on her the most tender caresses ; but we 
 must add, to the shame of the species, that this duty once 
 accomplished, she hastened back to the w T indow. This 
 unusual action on the part of the dog naturally guided 
 Bathilde's eyes toward the cause which occasioned it. 
 Her eyes met those of the chevalier. Bathilde blushed ; 
 the chevalier bowed ; and Bathilde, without knowing 
 what she was doing, returned the salute. 
 
 The young girl's first impulse was to go and close the 
 window, but an instinctive feeling restrained her. She 
 understood that this would be giving importance to a 
 thing which had none, and that to put herself on the 
 defensive would be an avowal that she thought herself 
 attacked. She therefore crossed the room without affecta- 
 tion, and disappeared in that part of her chamber which 
 her neighbor's glance could not reach. Then, at the end 
 of a few minutes, when she ventured to return, she found 
 that he had closed his window. Bathilde understood that 
 there was discretion in this action, and she appreciated it. 
 
 Indeed, the chevalier had just made a master-stroke. 
 
142 LE CHEVALIER D'HARMENTAL. 
 
 While his acquaintance with his neighbor was so little 
 advanced, it was impossible that both windows should 
 remain open at once. If the chevalier's window was 
 open, his neighbor's must be shut; and he knew that 
 when that was closed there was not a chance of seeing 
 even the tip of Mirza's nose behind the curtain ; while 
 if, on the contrary, his window was closed, hers might 
 possibly remain open, and he could watch her passing to 
 and fro, or working, which was a great amusement for a 
 poor devil condemned to absolute seclusion. Besides, he 
 had made an immense step, — he had saluted Bathilde, 
 and she had returned his salute. They were no longer 
 strangers to each other ; but in order that their acquaint- 
 ance might advance, he must be careful not to be too 
 brusque. To risk speaking to her after the salute 
 would have been risking too much; it was better to 
 allow Bathilde to believe that it was all the effect 
 of chance. 
 
 Bathilde did not believe it, but she appeared to do so. 
 The result was that she left her window open, and seeing 
 her neighbor's closed, sat down by her own with a book in 
 her hand. As to Mirza, she jumped upon the stool at her 
 mistress's feet, but instead of resting her head as usual on 
 the knees of the young girl, she placed it on the sill of 
 the window, so much was she occupied with the generous 
 unknown. 
 
 The chevalier seated himself in the middle of his room, 
 took his crayons, and thanks to a corner of his curtain 
 skilfully raised, he sketched the delicious picture before 
 him. Unfortunately the days were short, and toward 
 three o'clock the little light which the clouds and rain 
 had permitted to descend to the earth began to decline, 
 and Bathilde closed her window. Nevertheless, even in 
 this short time the chevalier had finished the young girl's 
 
THE CRIMSON RIBBON. 143 
 
 head, and the likeness was perfect. There was her wav- 
 ing hair, her fine transparent skin, the graceful curve of 
 her swan-like neck, — in fact, all to which art can attain 
 with one of those inimitable models which are the despair 
 of artists. 
 
 When night closed in, the Abbe Brigaud arrived. The 
 chevalier and he wrapped themselves in their cloaks, and 
 went toward the Palais Koyal ; their purpose was, it will 
 be remembered, to examine the locality. 
 
 The house in which Madame de Sabran lived, since her 
 husband had been named maitre d'kotel to the regent, was 
 No. 22, between the Hotel de la Roche-Guyon and the 
 passage formerly called Passage du Palais Royal, because 
 it was the only one leading from the Rue des Bons-Enfans 
 to the Rue de Valois. This passage, now called Passage 
 du Lycee, was closed at the same time as the other gates 
 of the garden, — that is to say, at eleven o'clock in the 
 evening; therefore, having once entered a house in the 
 Rue des Bons-Enfans, unless it had a second door opening 
 on the Rue de Valois, no one could return to the Palais 
 Royal after eleven o'clock without making the round 
 either by the Rue Neuve-des-Petits-Champs or by the 
 Cour des Fontaines. 
 
 Thus it was with Madame de Sabran's house ; it was an 
 exquisite little hotel, built toward the end of the last cen- 
 tury, — that is to say, about twenty-five years before the 
 time of the events here described, — by a merchant who 
 wished to ape the great lords and have a petite maison of 
 his own. It consisted of a ground-floor and a first story, 
 surmounted by a stone gallery, on which opened the ser- 
 vants' attic-rooms, and was covered by a tile roof, low and 
 but slightly inclined. Under the first-floor windows was 
 a large balcony which jutted out three or four feet, and 
 extended the entire length of the house ; but some orna- 
 
144 LE CHEVALIER D'HARMENTAL. 
 
 ments constructed of iron, as was the balcony, and which 
 reached to the terrace, separated the two windows on each 
 corner from the three in the middle, — an arrangement 
 quite common with houses where it is desired to inter- 
 rupt exterior communications. The two facades were 
 exactly similar, only as the Rue de Valois was eight or 
 ten feet lower than that of the Bons-Enfans, the ground- 
 floor windows and door on that side opened on a ter- 
 race, where was a little garden, which in spring was 
 tilled with charming flowers. This terrace, however, did 
 not communicate with the street, — the only entrance 
 being, as we have said, in the Rue des Bons-Enfans. 
 
 This was all our conspirators could wish ; the regent, 
 once entered into Madame de Sabran's house, — provided 
 he went thither on foot, as was possible, and stayed after 
 eleven o'clock, as was probable, — would be caught in a 
 trap, since it would be absolutely necessary for him to 
 depart by the way in which he entered ; and nothing 
 would be easier than to carry out an enterprise of this kind 
 in the Rue des Bons-Enfans, — one of the most deserted 
 and gloomy places in the neighborhood. Moreover, as 
 this street was surrounded by houses of a doubtful charac- 
 ter, and frequented by very bad company, it was a hun- 
 dred to one that but little attention would be given there 
 to outcries, which were too frequent in that street to 
 cause alarm, and that if the police should arrive, it would 
 be, according to the custom of that estimable force, long 
 after their intervention could be of any avail. 
 
 The inspection of the ground finished, the plans laid, 
 and the number of the house taken, D'Harmental and the 
 Abbe Brigaud separated, — the abbe to go to the Arsenal 
 to give Madame du Maine an account of the proceedings, 
 and D'Harmental to return to his attic. 
 
 As on the preceding night, Bathilde's room was lighted. 
 
THE CRIMSON RIBBON. 145 
 
 This time, however, the young girl was not drawing, hut 
 was occupied with needlework. Her light was not put 
 out till one o'clock in the morning. As to the good man 
 of the terrace, he had retired long before D'Harmental 
 returned. 
 
 The chevalier slept badly. One does not find himself 
 between a love affair at its beginning and a conspiracy at 
 its culmination, without experiencing certain sensations 
 till then unknown, and not very favorable to sleep. But 
 toward morning fatigue prevailed, and he awoke only on 
 feeling himself violently shaken by the arm. Without 
 doubt the chevalier was at that moment in some bad 
 dream, of which this seemed to be the crisis ; for, still 
 half asleep, he stretched out his hand toward the pistols 
 which were on the table. 
 
 "Ah, ah! " cried the abbe, "an instant, young man. 
 What a hurry you are in ! Open your eyes wide, — so ! 
 Do you not recognize me 1 " 
 
 "Ah," said D'Harmental, laughing, "it is you, Abbe. 
 You did well to stop me ; I dreamed that I was arrested." 
 
 "A good sign," said the Abbe Brigaud. "You know 
 that dreams always go by contraries. All will go well.'' 
 
 " Is there anything new 1 " asked D'Harmental. 
 
 " And if there were, how would you receive it 1 " 
 
 " I should be enchanted. When an enterprise of this 
 kind is ouce undertaken, the sooner it is finished, the 
 better." 
 
 " Well, then," said Brigaud, drawing a paper from his 
 pocket and presenting it to the chevalier, "read, and 
 glorify the name of the Lord, for you have your 
 wish." 
 
 D'Harmental took the paper, unfolded it as calmly 
 as if it were a matter of no moment, and read as 
 follows : — 
 
 10 
 
146 LE CHEVALIER D'HARMENTAL. 
 
 Report of the 27 th of March. 
 
 Two in the morning. 
 
 To-night at ten o'clock the regent received a courier from 
 London, who announces for to-morrow the arrival of the Abbe 
 Dubois. As by chance the regent was supping with Madame, 
 the despatch was given to him in spite of the late hour. Some 
 minutes before, Mademoiselle de Chartres had asked permis- 
 sion of her father to perform her devotions at. the Abbey of 
 Chelles, and he had promised to conduct her thither ; but on 
 the receipt of this letter his determination was changed, and 
 he has ordered the council to meet at noon. 
 
 At three o'clock the regent will pay his Majesty a visit at 
 the Tuileries. He has asked for a tete-a-tete, for he is begin- 
 ning to be impatient at the obstinacy of the Marechal de Ville- 
 roy, who maintains that he ought always to be present at the 
 interviews between the regent and his Majesty. Report says 
 that if this obstinacy continues, it will be the worse for the 
 marshal. 
 
 At six o'clock the regent, the Chevalier de Simiane, and 
 the Chevalier de Ravanne, will sup with Madame de Sabran. 
 
 " AJa, ah ! " said D'Harmental ; and he read again the 
 last sentence, weighing every word. 
 
 " Well, what do you think of this little paragraph 1 " 
 asked the abbe. 
 
 The chevalier jumped from his bed, put on his dressing- 
 gown, took from his drawer a crimson ribbon, a hammer, 
 and a nail, and having opened his window (not without 
 throwing a stolen glance at that of his neighbor), he 
 nailed the ribbon to the outer wall. 
 
 " There is my answer," said he. 
 
 " What the devil does that mean 1 " 
 
 "That means," said D'Harmental, "that you may go 
 and tell Madame du Maine that I hope this evening to 
 fulfil my promise to her. And now go away, my dear 
 Abbe, and do not come back for two hours, for I expect 
 
THE CRIMSON RIBBON. 147 
 
 some one whom it would be better you should not 
 meet." 
 
 The abbe, who was prudence itself, did not wait to be 
 told twice, but pressed the chevalier's hand and left 
 him. Twenty minutes afterward Captain Roquefinette 
 entered. 
 
148 LE CHEVALIER D ? HARMENTAL. 
 
 CHAPTEE XV. 
 
 THE RUE DES BONS-ENFANS. 
 
 The evening of the same day, which was Sunday, toward 
 eight o'clock, at the moment when a considerable group 
 of men and women, assembled round a street singer who 
 was playing at the same time the cymbals with his knees 
 and the tambourine with his hands, obstructed the en- 
 trance to the Rue de Valois, a musketeer and two soldiers 
 belonging to the light-horse descended a back staircase 
 of the Palais Royal, and advanced toward the Passage 
 du Lycee, which, as every one knows, opened on that 
 street ; but seeing the crowd which barred the way, the 
 three soldiers stopped and appeared to take counsel. The 
 result of their deliberation was doubtless that they must 
 take another route, for the musketeer, taking the initia- 
 tive, threaded the Cours des Fontaines, turned the corner 
 of the Rue des Bons-Enfans, and walking rapidly, though 
 he was extremely corpulent, arrived at No. 22, which 
 opened as by enchantment at his approach, and closed 
 again on him and his two companions. 
 
 At the moment when they started on this little detour, 
 a young man, dressed in a dark coat, wrapped in a cloak 
 of the same color, and wearing a broad-brimmed hat 
 pulled down over his eyes, left the group which sur- 
 rounded the singer, singing himself, to the tune of 
 "Les Pendus," "Vingt-quatre, vingt-quatre, vingt-quatre," 
 and advancing rapidly toward the Passage du Lycee, ar- 
 rived at the further end in time to see the three illustrious 
 
THE RUE DES BONS-ENFANS. 149 
 
 vagabonds enter the house, as we have said. He threw 
 a glance round him, and by the light of one of the three 
 lanterns which lighted, or rather ought to have lighted, 
 the whole length of the street, he perceived one of those 
 immense coal-heavers, with a face of the color of soot, so 
 well represented by Greuze, who was resting against one 
 of the posts of the Hotel de la Roche-Guyon, on which he 
 had hung his bag. For an instant he appeared to hesitate 
 to approach this man; but the coal-heaver having sung, 
 to the tune of " Les Pendus," the same refrain which 
 the young man in the cloak had been singing, the latter 
 appeared to lose all hesitation, and went straight to him. 
 - " Well, Captain," said the man in the cloak, " did you 
 see them 1 " 
 
 "As plainly as I see you, Colonel, — a musketeer and 
 two members of the light-horse ; but I could not recog- 
 nize them. However, as the musketeer hid his face in 
 his handkerchief, I presume he was the regent." 
 
 " Exactly ; and the other two are Simiane and Ravanne." 
 
 " Ah, ah ! my pupil," said the captain, " I shall have 
 great pleasure in seeing him again ; he is a good boy." 
 
 " At any rate, Captain, take care he does not recognize 
 you." 
 
 " Recognize me ! He must be the devil himself to 
 recognize me, accoutred as I am. It is you, rather, Cheva- 
 lier, who should take care. You have an unfortunately 
 aristocratic air, which does not suit at all with your dress. 
 But that is not the question ; here they are in the trap, 
 and our business is to see that they don't get out. Have 
 our men been told 1 " 
 
 " Your men, Captain 1 I know no more of them than 
 they do of me. I left the group, and sang at the same 
 time the refrain which was our signal. Did they hear 
 me? Did they understand me? I know nothing of it." 
 
150 LE CHEVALIER D'HARMENTAL. 
 
 " Be easy, Colonel. These fellows hear half a voice, 
 and understand half a word." 
 
 Indeed, as soon as the man in the cloak had left the 
 group, a strange fluctuation which he had not foreseen 
 began to take place in the crowd, which appeared to be 
 composed only of passers-by, so that the song was not 
 finished, nor the collection taken. The crowd dispersed. 
 A considerable number of men left the circle singly, or 
 two and two, turning toward one another with an almost 
 imperceptible gesture of the hand, some by the Rue de 
 Valois, some by the Cour des Fontaines, some by the 
 Palais Royal itself, thus surrounding the Rue des Bons- 
 Enfans, which seemed to be the centre of the rendezvous. 
 In consequence of this manoeuvre, the intention of which 
 it is easy to understand, there remained with the singer 
 ten or twelve women, some children, and a good bourgeois, 
 about forty years old, who, seeing that the collection was 
 about to begin, left his place with an air of profound 
 contempt for all these new songs, and humming an old 
 pastoral which he appeared to hold far superior to the 
 frivolities to which the bad taste of the time had given 
 popularity. It seemed to him that several men as he 
 passed them made him signs ; but as he did not belong to 
 any secret society or any Masonic lodge, he went on, sing- 
 ing his favorite — 
 
 " Then let me go, 
 And let me play 
 Beneath the hazel-tree," 
 
 and after following the Rue St. Honore* to the Barriere 
 des Deux-Sergens, turned the corner of the Rue du Coq 
 and disappeared. 
 
 Almost at the same moment the man in the cloak, who 
 had been the first to leave the group, reappeared, and 
 accosting the singer, " My friend," said he, " my wife is 
 
THE RUE DES BONS-ENFANS. 151 
 
 ill, and your music will prevent her sleeping. If you 
 have no particular reason for remaining here, go to the 
 Place du Palais Royal ; and here is a crown to indemnify 
 you." 
 
 " Thank you, Monseigneur," replied the singer, measur- 
 ing the social position of the giver by his generosity. " I 
 will go directly. Have you any commissions for the Rue 
 Mouffetard 1 " 
 
 "No." 
 
 " Because I would have executed them into the bargain." 
 
 The man went away ; and as he was at once the centre 
 and the cause of the gathering, all those who had re- 
 mained disappeared with him. At this moment the clock 
 of the Palais Royal struck nine. The young man drew 
 from his pocket a watch, whose diamond setting con- 
 trasted strangely with his simple costume. He set it 
 exactly, then turned and went into the Rue des Bons- 
 Enfans. On arriving opposite No. 24, he found the 
 coal-heaver. 
 
 " And the singer 1 " asked the latter. 
 
 " He has gone." 
 
 " Good ! " 
 
 " And the postchaise ? " asked the man in the cloak. 
 
 " It is waiting at the corner of the Rue Baillif." 
 
 " Have they taken the precaution of wrapping the 
 wheels and horses' hoofs in rags?" 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " Very good. Now let us wait," said the man in the 
 cloak. 
 
 " Let us wait," replied the coal-heaver. 
 
 An hour passed, during which a few passers-by crossed 
 the street at intervals ; but at length it became almost 
 deserted. The few lighted windows were darkened one 
 after the other ; and night, having now nothing to contend 
 
152 LE CHEVALIER D'HARMENTAL. 
 
 with but the two lanterns, one of which was opposite the 
 chapel of St. Clair, and the other at the corner of the Rue 
 Baillif, at length reigned over the domain which it had 
 long claimed. Another hour passed. They heard the 
 watchman go by in the Rue de Valois ; behind him the 
 keeper of the passage came to close the door. 
 
 " Good ! " murmured the man in the cloak ; " now we 
 are sure not to be interrupted." 
 
 " Provided," replied the coal-heaver, " the regent leaves 
 before day." 
 
 " If he were alone, we might fear his remaining, but 
 Madame de Sabran will scarcely keep all three." 
 
 " Hum ! she might lend her chamber to one, and let 
 the other two sleep under the table." 
 
 " Peste ! you are right, Captain ; and I had not thought 
 of it. Are all your precautions taken 1 " 
 
 "All." 
 
 " And your men believe that it is a question of a bet 1 n 
 
 " They appear to believe it at least, and we cannot ask 
 more." 
 
 * Then it is well understood, Captain. You and your 
 men are drunk. You push me. I fall between the regent 
 and him who has his arm. I separate them. You seize 
 on him and gag him, and at a whistle the carriage arrives, 
 while Simiane and Ravanne are held with pistols at their 
 throats." 
 
 " But," answered the coal-heaver, in a low voice, " if he 
 declares his name." 
 
 The man in the cloak replied in a still lower tone, " In 
 conspiracies there are no half-measures. If he declares 
 himself, you must kill him." 
 
 "Peste/" said the coal-heaver; "let us try to prevent 
 his declaring himself." 
 
 There was no reply, and all was again silent. A quar- 
 
THE RUE DES BONS-ENFANS. 153 
 
 ter of an hour passed, and then a light which came from 
 the farther side of the apartment illumined the three 
 middle windows. 
 
 "Ah, ah, there is something new ! " they both exclaimed. 
 
 At this moment they heard the step of a man who 
 came from the Rue St. Honore, and who was preparing to 
 go the whole length of the street. The coal-heaver mut- 
 tered a terrible oath. The man continued to advance ; 
 but either the darkness sufficed to frighten him, or he saw 
 something suspicious moving there, for it was evident 
 that he was agitated by some disturbing emotion. As 
 he reached the Hotel St. Clair, employing that old ruse of 
 cowards who wish to appear brave, he began to sing. 
 But as he advanced, his voice became more uncertain ; 
 and though the innocence of the song proved the serenity 
 of his heart, on arriving opposite the passage, his fear be- 
 came so strong that he began to cough, which, as we 
 know, in the gamut of terror indicates a greater degree 
 of fear than singing. Seeing, however, that nothing 
 moved near where he was, he took courage, and in a 
 voice more in harmony with his present situation than 
 with the sense of the words, he began, — 
 
 "Then let me go, 
 And let me — " 
 
 but there he stopped short, not only in his song, but in 
 his walk ; for having perceived two men standing in a 
 doorway, he felt his voice and his legs fail him at once, 
 and he drew up motionless and silent. Unfortunately, at 
 this moment a shadow approached the window. The 
 coal-heaver saw that a cry might ruin all, and moved, as 
 if to spring on the passenger; his companion held him 
 back. 
 
 " Captain," he whispered, " don't hurt this man ; " and 
 
154 LE CHEVALIER D'HARMENTAL. 
 
 then, approaching him, " Pass on, my friend," he said, 
 "but pass quickly, and do not look back." 
 
 The singer did not wait to be told twice, but made off 
 as fast as his little legs and his trembling condition 
 allowed, so that in a few seconds he had disappeared at 
 the corner of the Hotel de Toulouse. 
 
 " 'T was time," murmured the coal-heaver ; " they are 
 opening the window." 
 
 The two men drew back as far as possible into the 
 shade. The window was opened, and one of the regent's 
 companions appeared on the balcony. 
 
 " Well ! " said a voice, which the coal-heaver and his 
 companion recognized as that of the regent, from the 
 interior of the room. "Well, Simiane, what kind of 
 weather is it 1 " 
 
 " Oh ! " replied Simiane, " I think it snows." 
 
 " You think it snows ? " 
 
 " Or rains, I don't know which," continued Simiane. 
 
 " What ! " said Ravanne, " can't you tell what is fall- 
 ing? " and he also came out on the balcony. 
 
 " After all," said Simiane, " I am not sure that any- 
 thing is falling." 
 
 " He is dead drunk," said the regent. 
 
 " I ! " said Simiane, wounded in his pride as a toper, 
 " I dead drunk ! Come here, Monseigneur, come." 
 
 Though the invitation was given in a strange manner, 
 the regent joined his companions, laughing. By his gait 
 it was easy to see that he himself was more than warmed. 
 
 " Ah, dead drunk ! " replied Simiane, holding out his 
 hand to the prince. " Well, I bet you a hundred louis 
 that, regent of France as you are, you will not do what 
 I do." 
 
 " You hear, Monseigneur," said a female voice from the 
 room ; " it is a challenge." 
 
THE RUE DES BONS-ENFANS. 155 
 
 "And as such I accept it ; done, for a hundred louis." 
 
 " I go halves with whoever likes/' said Ravanne. 
 
 "Bet with the marchioness," said Simiane; "I admit 
 no one into my game." 
 
 " Nor I," said the regent. 
 
 " Marchioness," cried Ravanne, " fifty louis to a kiss." 
 
 " Ask Philippe if he permits it." 
 
 " Yes," said the regent, "it is a golden bargain ; you 
 are sure to win. Well, are you ready, Simiane ] " 
 
 "lam; will you follow me 1 " 
 
 " Everywhere." 
 
 u What are you going to do % " 
 
 "Look." 
 
 " Where the devil are you going 1 " 
 
 " I am going into the Palais Royal." 
 
 "How?" 
 
 "By the roofs." 
 
 And Simiane, taking hold of the fan-like iron ornament 
 which we have said separated the windows of the drawing- 
 room from those of the bedroom, began to climb like 
 a monkey. 
 
 " Monseigneur," cried Madame de Sabran, bounding on 
 the balcony, and catching the prince by the arm, " I hope 
 you will not follow." 
 
 "Not follow 1 ?" said the regent, freeing himself from 
 the marchioness's arm ; " do you know that I hold as a 
 principle that whatever another man tries, I can do 1 If 
 he goes up to the moon, devil take me if I am not there 
 to knock at the door as soon as he ! Did you bet on me, 
 Ravanne 1 " 
 
 " Yes, my Prince," replied the young man, laughing. 
 
 " Then take your kiss, you have won ; " and the regent 
 seized the iron bars, climbing behind Simiane, who, active, 
 tall, and slender, was in an instant on the terrace. 
 
156 LE CHEVALIER D'HARMENTAL. 
 
 " But I hope you, at least, will remain, Ravanne 1 n 
 said the marchioness. 
 
 "Long enough to claim your stakes," said the young 
 man, kissing the beautiful fresh cheeks of Madame de 
 Sabran. "Now, adieu," he continued, "I am Mon- 
 seigneur's page; you understand that I must follow him." 
 And Ravanne in his turn started eagerly on the perilous 
 ascent already undertaken by his companions. 
 
 The coal-heaver and the man in the cloak uttered an 
 exclamation of astonishment, which was repeated along 
 the street as if every door had an echo. 
 
 " Ah, what is that 1 " said Simiane, who had arrived 
 first on the terrace. 
 
 " Do you see, double drunkard ? " said the regent, seiz- 
 ing the railing of the terrace, " it is the watch, and you 
 will get us taken to the guard-house ; but I promise you 
 I will leave you there." 
 
 At these words those who were in the street w r ere 
 silent, hoping that the duke and his companions would 
 push the joke no further, but would come down and go 
 out by the ordinary road. 
 
 " Ah, here lam!" said the regent, landing on the ter- 
 race j u have you had enough, Simiane 1 " 
 
 " No, Monseigneur," replied Simiane ; and bending 
 down to Ravanne, "that is not the watch," he continued; 
 "not a musket, — not a jerkin." 
 
 " What is the matter ? " asked the regent. 
 
 "Nothing," replied Simiane, making a sign to Ravanne, 
 "except that I continue my ascent, and invite you to 
 follow me." 
 
 And at these words, holding out his hand to the re- 
 gent, he began to scale the roof, drawing him after him, 
 Ravanne brought up the rear. 
 
 At this sight, as there was no longer any doubt of their 
 
THE RUE DES BONS-ENFANS. 157 
 
 intention, the coal-heaver uttered a malediction, and the 
 man in the cloak a cry of rage. 
 
 " Eh, eh ! " said the regent, sitting astride the roof and 
 looking down the street, where by the light from the open 
 windows of the salon they saw eight or ten men moving, 
 " what the devil is that, — a plot 1 Ah, one would sup- 
 pose they wanted to scale the house ; they are furious. 
 I have a mind to ask them what we can do to help 
 them." 
 
 "No joking, Monseigneur," said Simiane; "let us 
 go on." 
 
 " Turn by the Rue St. Honore," said the man in tho 
 cloak. " Forward, forward ! " . 
 
 " It is indeed we whom they are after, Simiane," said 
 the regent ; " quick to the other side ! Back, bank ! " 
 
 " I don't know what prevents me," said the man in the 
 cloak, drawing a pistol from his belt and aiming at the 
 regent, " from bringing him down like a partridge." 
 
 " Thousand thunders ! " cried the coal-heaver, stopping 
 him, "you will get us all quartered." 
 
 " But what are we to do 1 " 
 
 " Wait till they come down of themselves, and break 
 their necks in falling ; for if Providence is just, that little 
 surprise awaits us." 
 
 " Oh, I have an idea, Roquefinette ! " 
 
 " Eh, Colonel ! no names, if you please." 
 
 " You are right ; pardon ! " 
 
 "There is no need ; let us have the idea." 
 
 " Follow me ! " cried the man in the cloak, springing 
 into the passage. " Let us break open the door, and we 
 will take them on the other side when they jump down." 
 
 Those of his companions who had still remained in that 
 place followed him. The others, to the number of five or 
 six, were already making for the Rue St. Honore\ 
 
158 LE CHEVALIER D'HARMENTAL. 
 
 " Come, come, Monseigneur," said Simiane ; " we have 
 not a minute to lose. Slide on your back ; it is not glo- 
 rious, but it is safe." 
 
 " I think I hear them in the passage," said the regent ; 
 " what do you think, Ravanne 1 " 
 
 "I do not think at all," said Kavanne, "I let myself 
 slip." 
 
 They all, with equal rapidity, slid down the slope of 
 the roof, and landed on the terrace. 
 
 " Here, here ! " said a woman's voice, at the moment 
 when Simiane threw his leg over the parapet of the ter- 
 race to descend its iron ladder. 
 
 "Ah, is it you, Marchioness!" said the regent; "you 
 are indeed a friend in need." 
 
 " Jump in here and descend quickly." 
 
 The three fugitives sprang into the room. 
 
 "Do you prefer to remain here 1 ?" asked Madame de 
 Sabran. 
 
 " Yes," said Eavanne \ " I will go and look for Canillac 
 and his night-watch." 
 
 " No, no," said the regent ; " they will be scaling your 
 house and treating it as a town taken by assault. Let us^ 
 gain the Palais Royal." 
 
 They descended the staircase rapidly and opened the 
 garden door. There they heard the despairing blows of 
 their pursuers against the iron gates. 
 
 " Strike, strike, my friends ! " said the regent, running 
 with the carelessness and activity of a young man toward 
 the end of the garden ; " the gate is solid, and will give 
 you plenty of work." 
 
 " Quick, quick, Monseigneur ! " cried Simiane, who, 
 thanks to his great height, had jumped to the ground 
 after letting himself down by his arms ; " there they are, 
 running toward the end of the Rue de Valois. Put your 
 
THE RUE DES BONS-ENFANS. 159 
 
 foot on my shoulder — now the other — and let yourself 
 slip into my arms. You are saved, thank God ! " 
 
 "Draw your sword, Eavanne, and let us charge these 
 fellows," said the regent. 
 
 " In the name of Heaven, Monseigneur," cried Simiane, 
 urging on the prince, " follow us ! I am not a coward, I 
 believe, but what you would do is mere folly. Here, 
 Eavanne." 
 
 And the young men, each taking one of the duke's 
 arms, led him down one of those passages always open to 
 the Palais Eoyal at the moment when those who were 
 running by the Eue de Valois were only twenty paces 
 from them, and when the door of the passage fell under 
 the efforts of the second troop. The whole reunited band 
 rushed against the gate at the moment that the three gen- 
 tlemen closed it behind them. 
 
 " Gentlemen," said the regent, saluting with his hand, 
 for as to his hat, God knows what had become of that, 
 " I hope for the sake of your heads that all this was only 
 a joke ; for you are attacking those who are stronger than 
 yourselves. Beware, to-morrow, of the lieutenant of police. 
 Meanwhile, good-night." And a triple shout of laughter 
 petrified the two conspirators leaning against the gate at 
 the head of their breathless companions. 
 
 " This man must have a compact with Satan ! " cried 
 D'Harmental. 
 
 " We have lost the bet, my friends," said Eoquefinette, 
 addressing his men, who stood waiting for orders, "but 
 we do not dismiss you yet ; the affair is only postponed. 
 As to the promised sum, you have already had half; to- 
 morrow — you know where — you will have the rest. 
 Good-evening. I shall be at the rendezvous to-morrow." 
 
 All the men dispersed, and the two chiefs remained 
 alone. 
 
160 LE CHEVALIER D'HARMENTAL. 
 
 "Well, Colonel ?" said Roquefinette, looking D'Har- 
 mental full in the face. 
 
 "Well, Captain," replied the chevalier; "I have a 
 great mind to ask one thing of you." 
 
 " What is that ? " asked Roquefinette. 
 
 " To follow me into some by-lane, and blow my brains 
 out with your pistol, that this miserable head of mine 
 may be battered beyond possibility of recognition." 
 
 "Why so?" 
 
 " Why ? Because in such matters, when one fails, one 
 is but a fool. What am I to say now to Madame du 
 Maine ? " 
 
 " What ! " cried Roquefinette, " is it about that little 
 hop-o'-my-thumb that you are bothering yourself? Par- 
 dieu ! you are frantically susceptible, Colonel. Why 
 the devil does not her lame husband attend to his own 
 affairs? I should have liked to see her, — your haughty 
 prude, with her two cardinals and her three or four 
 marquises, who are bursting with fear at this moment in 
 a corner of the Arsenal, while we remain masters of v the 
 field of battle, — I should have liked to see if they would 
 climb walls like lizards. Stay, Colonel, listen to an old 
 fox. To be a good conspirator, you must have first, what 
 you have, — courage ; but you must also have what you 
 have not, — patience. Morbleu! if I had such an affair 
 in my hands, I would answer for it that I would bring it 
 to a good end ; and if you like to make it over to me, we 
 will talk of that." 
 
 "But in my place," asked the colonel, "what would 
 you say to Madame du Maine?" 
 
 " Oh, I should say, ' My Princess, the regent must 
 have been warned by his police, for he did not leave as 
 we expected, and we saw none but his roue companions, 
 who cheated us of our prey/ Then the Prince de Cella- 
 
THE RUE DES BONS-ENFANS. 161 
 
 mare will say to you, 'My dear D'Harmental, we have 
 no resources but in you/ Madame du Maine will say, 
 'All is not lost, since the brave D'Harmental remains to 
 us.' The Comte de Laval will grasp your hand trying to 
 pay you a compliment, which he will not finish, because 
 since his jaw is broken, his tongue is not active, particu- 
 larly for compliments. The Cardinal de Polignac will 
 make the sign of the cross. Alberoni will swear enough 
 to shake the heavens. In this manner you will have con- 
 ciliated everybody, saved your pride, and may return to 
 hide in your attic, which I advise you not to leave for 
 three or four days if you do not wish to be hanged. 
 From time to time I will pay you a visit. You will con- 
 tinue to bestow on me some of the liberalities of Spain, 
 because it is of importance to me to live agreeably, and 
 keep up my spirits. Then at the first opportunity we 
 recall our brave fellows and take our revenge." 
 
 "Yes, certainly," said D'Harmental, "that is what any 
 other would do ; but you see I have some foolish ideas, — 
 T cannot lie." 
 
 " Whoever cannot lie cannot act," replied the captain. 
 
 " But what do I see there 1 The bayonets of the watch ! 
 
 Amicable institution, I recognize you there, — always a 
 
 quarter of an hour too late. But now adieu, Colonel. 
 
 There is your road ; we must separate," continued the 
 
 captain, showing the Passage du Palais Royal. " And here 
 
 5s mine," he added, pointing to the Rue Neuve-des-Petits- 
 
 Champs. " Come, be calm ; go quietly, that no one may 
 
 suspect that you ought to run as fast as you can, — your 
 
 hand on your hip, so, and singing ' La Mere Gaudichon.' " 
 
 And the captain followed ,the Rue de Valois at the same 
 
 pace as the watch, who were a hundred feet behind him, 
 
 «inging carelessly as he went. 
 
 As to the chevalier, he re-entered the Rue des Bons- 
 11 
 
162 LE CHEVALIER D'HARMENTAL. 
 
 Enfans, now as quiet as it had been noisy ten minutes 
 before ; and at the corner of the Rue Baillif he found the 
 carriage, which, according to his orders, had not moved, 
 and was waiting with the door open, the lackey at the 
 step, and the coachman on his box. 
 
 " To the Arsenal ! " said the chevalier. 
 
 " It is useless," said a voice which made D'Harmental 
 start. " I know all that has happened, for I was there ; 
 and I will inform those who ought to know. Your visit 
 at this hour would be dangerous for all." 
 
 "Ah, it is you, Abbe," said D'Harmental, trying to 
 recognize Brigaud in the livery in which he was disguised. 
 " Very good ! you will render me a real service in taking 
 the news instead of me, for on my honor I don't know 
 what to say." 
 
 "Well, I shall say," said Brigaud, "that } T ou are a 
 brave and loyal gentleman, and that if there were ten 
 like you in France, all would soon be finished. But^we 
 are not here to pay compliments ; get in quickly. Where 
 ehall I take you?" 
 
 " It is useless," said D'Harmental ; " I will go on foot." 
 
 " Get in. It is safer." 
 
 D'Harmental complied, and Brigaud, dressed as he was, 
 like a footman, unceremoniously took a seat by his side. 
 
 "To the corner of the Rue du Gros-Chenet and the 
 Rue de Clery," said the abbe. 
 
 The coachman, impatient at having waited so long ? 
 obeyed at once. At the place indicated the carriage 
 stopped ; the chevalier got out, and soon disappeared 
 round the corner of the Rue du Temps-Perdu. As to the 
 carriage, it rolled on noiselessly toward the Boulevards, 
 like a fairy car which does not touch the earth. 
 
GOODMAN BUVAT. 163 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 GOODMAN BUVAT. 
 
 Our readers must now make a better acquaintance with 
 one of the principal personages in the history which we 
 have undertaken to relate, whom as yet we have merely 
 pointed out to them in passing. We refer to the wor- 
 thy bourgeois whom we have seen leaving the group 
 in the Rue de Valois, and making for the Barriere des 
 Sergens at the moment when the street singer began his 
 collection, and whom, it will be remembered, we have 
 since seen at so inopportune a moment in the Rue des 
 Bons-Enfans. 
 
 God forbid that we should disparage the intelligence of 
 our readers so much as to doubt for a moment that they 
 have recognized in the poor devil to whom the Chevalier 
 d'Harmental had rendered such timely assistance the good 
 man of the terrace in the Rue du Temps-Perdu. But 
 they cannot know, unless we tell them in detail, what 
 that poor devil was, physically, morally, and socially. 
 If the reader has not forgotten the little we have already 
 narrated concerning him, it will be remembered that he 
 was from forty to forty-five years of age. Now, as every 
 one knows, after forty years of age the bourgeois of Paris 
 entirely forgets the care of his person, with which gener- 
 ally he is not much occupied, — a negligence from which 
 his corporeal graces suffer considerably, particularly when, 
 as in the present instance, they are not much to be ad' 
 mired on their own account. 
 
164 LE CHEVALIER D'HARMENTAL. 
 
 Our bourgeois was a little man of five feet one inch, 
 short and fat, with a tendency to become obese as he 
 advanced in age, and with one of those placid faces where 
 all — hair, eyebrows, eyes, and skin, — seem of the same 
 color; in fact, one of those faces of which, at ten paces, 
 one does not distinguish a feature. The most enthusiastic 
 physiognomist, if he had sought to read on this counte- 
 nance some high and curious destiny, would have been 
 stopped in his examination as soon as he mounted from 
 his great blue eyes to his depressed forehead, or descended 
 from his half-open mouth to the fold of his double chin. 
 Then he would have understood that he had under ob- 
 servation one of those heads to which all fermentation is 
 unknown, whose freshness is respected by the passions, 
 good or bad, and who turn nothing in the empty corners 
 of their brain but the refrain of some old nursery sOng. 
 Let us add that Providence, who does nothing by halves, 
 had signed the original, of which we have just offered a 
 copy to our readers, by the characteristic name of Jean 
 Buvat. It is true that those who were able to appreciate 
 the profound nullity of spirit and excellent qualities of 
 heart of this worthy man usually suppressed the name 
 given him in baptism, and called him simply, " Goodman 
 Buvat." 
 
 In his early youth the little Buvat, who had a marked 
 repugnance for all kinds of study, manifested a particular 
 inclination for caligraphy. Thus he arrived every morn- 
 ing at the College des Oratoriens, where his mother sent 
 him gratis, with his exercises and translations full of 
 faults, but written with a neatness, a regularity, and a 
 beauty charming to see. The little Buvat was whipped 
 every day for the idleness of his mind, and received the 
 writing-prize every year for the skill of his hand. At 
 fifteen years of age he passed from the " Epitome Sacrse," 
 
GOODMAN BUVAT. 165 
 
 which he had recommenced five times, to the " Epitome 
 Grsecse ; " but the professor soon perceived that this was 
 too much for him, and put him back for another course in 
 the "Epitome Sacrse." Passive as he appeared, young 
 Buvat was not wanting in a certain pride. He came 
 home in the evening, crying, to his mother, complained 
 to her of the injustice which had been done him, and 
 disclosed, in his grief, a fact which till then he had been 
 careful not to confess ; namely, that there were in the 
 school children ten years old more advanced than he was. 
 
 Widow Buvat, who had seen her son start every morn- 
 ing with his exercises perfectly neat, which was enough 
 to make her believe that there could be no fault in them, 
 went the next day to abuse the good fathers. They re- 
 plied that her son was a good boy, incapable of an evil 
 thought toward God or a bad action toward his neighbor ; 
 but that at the same time he was so stupid that they 
 must advise her to develop, by making him a writing - 
 master, the only talent with which Nature had blessed 
 him. 
 
 This counsel was a ray of light for Madame Buvat ; she 
 understood that if she acted on this advice the benefit 
 she would derive from her son would be immediate. She 
 came back to her house, and communicated to him the 
 new plans she had formed for him. Young Buvat saw in 
 this only a means of escaping the castigation which he 
 received every morning, for which the prize, bound in 
 calf, that he received every year was not a sufficient com- 
 pensation. He received the propositions of his mother 
 with great joy, promised her that before six months were 
 over he would be the first writing-master in the capital, 
 and the same day, after having, from his little savings, 
 bought a knife with four blades, a packet of quills, and 
 two copy-books, set himself to the work. 
 
166 LE CHEVALIER D'HARMENTAL. 
 
 The good Oratorians were not deceived as to the true 
 vocation of young Buvat. Caligraphy was with him an 
 art almost equal to that of drawing. At the end of six 
 months, like the ape in the "Arabian Nights," he wrote 
 six kinds of writing, and imitated men's faces, trees, and 
 animals. At the end of a year he had made such progress 
 that he thought he might now give out his prospectus. 
 He worked at it for three months, day and night, and 
 almost lost his sight over it. At the end of that time he 
 had accomplished a masterpiece. 
 
 It was not a simple writing, but a real picture, repre- 
 senting the creation of the world, and divided somewhat 
 like " The Transfiguration " of Raphael. In the upper 
 part, devoted to Eden, was the Eternal Father drawing 
 Eve from the side of the sleeping Adam, and surrounded 
 by those animals which the nobility of their nature brings 
 near to man, such as the lion, the horse, and the dog. At 
 the bottom was the sea, in the depths of which were to be 
 seen swimming the most fantastic fishes, and which bore 
 on its surface a superb three-decked vessel. On the two 
 sides, trees full of birds put the heavens, which they 
 touched with their topmost branches, in communication 
 with the earth, which they grasped with their roots; and 
 in the space left in the middle of all this, in a perfectly 
 horizontal line, and reproduced in six different writings, 
 was the adverb impitoyablement. 
 
 This time the artist had not misdirected his efforts ; the 
 picture produced the effect which he expected. A week 
 afterward young Buvat had five male and two female 
 scholars. His reputation increased ; and Madame Buvat, 
 after some years passed in greater ease than she had 
 known even in her husband's lifetime, had the satisfac- 
 tion of dying perfectly secure about her son's future. 
 
 As to him, after having sufficiently mourned his mother, 
 
GOODMAN BUVAT. 167 
 
 he pursued a course of life so exactly regulated that each 
 day was like all others. He arrived thus at the age of 
 twenty-six or twenty-seven, having passed the stormy 
 part of existence in an unbroken tranquillity due to his 
 innocent and virtuous good-nature. It was about this 
 time that the worthy man found an opportunity of doing 
 a sublime action, which he performed instinctively and 
 simply, as he did everything ; while perhaps a man of 
 superior intelligence would have passed it over without 
 seeing 'it, or turned away from it if he had seen it. 
 
 There was, on the first floor of the house No. 6, in the 
 Rue des Orties, of which Buvat occupied the attic, a 
 young couple who were the admiration of the whole 
 quarter for the harmony in which they lived. They ap- 
 peared made for each other. The husband was a man of 
 from thirty-four to thirty-five years of age, of a Southern 
 origin, with black eyes, beard, and hair, dark complexion, 
 and teeth like pearls. He was called Albert du Rocher, 
 and was the son of an ancient Cevenol chief, who had 
 been forced to turn Catholic, with all his family, under 
 the persecutions of Monsieur Baville ; and half from oppo- 
 sition, half because youth seeks youth, he had entered the 
 household of Monsieur le Due de Chartres, which was just 
 at that time reconstructed, having suffered much in the 
 campaign preceding the battle of Steenkerke, where the 
 prince had made his debut in arms. Du Rocher had ob- 
 tained the place of La JS T euville, who had been killed 
 in that charge which, conducted by the Due de Chartres, 
 had decided the victory. 
 
 The winter had interrupted the campaign ; but in the 
 spring Monsieur de Luxembourg had recalled all those 
 officers who divided their lives between war and pleasure. 
 The Due de Chartres, always eager to draw a sword which 
 the jealousy of Louis XIV. had so often replaced in the 
 
168 
 
 scabbard, was one of the first to answer this appeal. Du 
 Eocher followed him with all the rest of his military 
 household. 
 
 The great day of Nerwinden arrived. The Due de 
 Chartres had, as usual, the command of the guards ; as 
 usual, he charged at their head, and so furiously that five 
 times he found himself almost alone in the midst of the 
 enemy. On the fifth of these occasions he found himself 
 supported by but one person, — a young man whom he 
 scarcely knew. In the rapid glance which he cast on him 
 he saw that this young man was one on whom he could 
 depend ; and therefore, instead of yielding, as a brigadier 
 of the enemy's army who had recognized him proposed to 
 him, he blew out the brigadier's brains with his pistol. 
 At the same instant two shots were fired, one of which 
 took off the prince's hat, and the other turned from the 
 handle of his sword. Scarcely had these two shots been 
 fired when those who had discharged them fell simulta- 
 neously, thrown down by the prince's companion, — one 
 by a sabre-stroke, the other by a bullet. A general dis- 
 charge of musketry was aimed at these two men, who, hap- 
 pily, or rather miraculously, were not hit. The prince's 
 horse, however, mortally wounded in the head, fell under 
 him. The young man who was with him jumped from 
 his, and offered it to him. 
 
 The prinCe hesitated to accept this service, which might 
 cost him who rendered it so dear ; but the young man, 
 who was tall and powerful, thinking that this was not 
 a moment to exchange politenesses, took the prince in his 
 arms and forced him into the saddle. At this moment, 
 Monsieur d'Arcy, who arrived with a detachment of light- 
 horse, came up with him just as, in spite of their courage, 
 the prince and his companion were about to be killed or 
 taken. Both were without wound, although the prince 
 
GOODMAN BUVAT. 169 
 
 had received four bullets in his clothes. The Due de 
 Chartres held out his hand to his companion, and asked 
 him who he was ; for although his face was known to 
 him, he had been so short a time in his service that he 
 did not remember his name. The young man replied 
 that he was called Albert du Rocher, and that he had 
 taken the place of La Neuville, who was killed at 
 Steenkerke. 
 
 Then, turning toward those who had just arrived, 
 ** Gentlemen," said the prince, " you have prevented me 
 from being taken ; but this gentleman," pointing to Du 
 Rocher, "has saved me from being killed." 
 
 At the end of the campaign, the Due de Chartres named 
 Du Rocher his first equerry, and, three years afterward, 
 having continued the grateful affection which he had 
 vowed to him, he married him to a young person whom 
 he loved, and gave her a dowry. Unfortunately, as Mon- 
 sieur le Due de Chartres was still but a young man, this 
 dowry was not large ; but he promised to take charge of 
 the advancement of his protege. 
 
 This young person whom Du Rocher married was 
 of English origin ; her mother had accompanied Madam 
 Henrietta when she came to France to marry Monsieur. 
 And after that princess had been poisoned by the Cheva- 
 lier d'Efnat, she had passed, as lady-in-waiting, into the 
 service of the Grande Dauphine; but in 1690 the Grande 
 Dauphine died, and the Englishwoman, in her insular 
 pride, refused to stay with Mademoiselle Choin, and re- 
 tired to a little country-house which she hired near St. 
 Cloud, where she gave herself up entirely to the education 
 of her little Clarice. It was in the journeys of the Due 
 de Chartres to St. Cloud that Du Rocher made acquaint- 
 ance with this young girl, whom, as we have said, he 
 married in 1697. 
 
170 LE CHEVALIER D'HARMENTAL. 
 
 It was, then, tins young couple who occupied the first 
 floor of the house of which Buvat had the attic. They 
 had first a son, whose caligraphic education was confided 
 to Buvat from the age of four years. The young pupil 
 was making the most satisfactory progress when he was 
 carried off by the measles. The despair of the parents 
 was great; Buvat shared it, the more sincerely because 
 his pupil had exhibited a most docile disposition. This 
 sympathy for their grief on the part of a stranger 
 attached them to him ; and one day, when the good man 
 was complaining of the precarious future of artists, Albert 
 du Rocher promised to use his influence to procure him 
 a place in the government library. Buvat jumped with 
 joy at the idea of becoming a public functionary. That 
 very day his application was forwarded, in his best chi- 
 rography, and a month later he received an appointment 
 as employee in the royal library, in the manuscript depart- 
 ment, with a salary of nine hundred francs a year. 
 
 From this day Buvat, in the pride natural to his new 
 position, neglected his scholars, and gave himself up en- 
 tirely to the preparation of forms. Nine hundred francs, 
 secured to the end of his life, was really a fortune, and 
 the worthy writer, thanks to the royal munificence, began 
 to lead a life of ease and comfort. He promised his good 
 neighbors that if they had a second child no one but 
 himself should teach him to write ; and the poor par- 
 ents wished much to give this increase of occupation to 
 the worthy writer. God granted their wish. Toward 
 the end of the year 1702 Clarice was delivered of a 
 daughter. 
 
 Great was the joy through the whole house. Buvat 
 did not feel at all at his ease ; he ran up and down stairs, 
 beating his thighs with his hands, and singing below his 
 breath the refrain of his favorite song, — 
 
GOODMAN BUVAT. 171 
 
 " Then let me go 
 And let me play," etc. 
 
 That day, for the first time since he had been appointed, — 
 that is to say, during two years, — he arrived at his office 
 at a quarter past ten, instead of ten o'clock exactly. A 
 supernumerary, who thought that he must be dead, had 
 asked for his place. 
 
 The little Bathilde was not a week old when Buvat 
 wished to begin teaching her the strokes and pot-hooks, 
 saying that to learn a thing well, it is necessary to begin 
 young. It was with the greatest difficulty that he was 
 made to understand tfiat he must wait till she was at 
 least two or three years old. He resigned himself; but 
 in anticipation of that time he set about preparing copies. 
 At the end of three years Clarice kept her word; and 
 Buvat had the satisfaction of solemnly putting her first 
 pen into the hands of Bathilde. 
 
 It was the beginning of the year 1707; and the Due 
 de Chartres had become Due d'Or leans by the death of 
 Monsieur, and had at last obtained a command in Spain, 
 whither he was to conduct troops to the Marechal de 
 Berwick. Orders were directly given to all his military 
 household to hold themselves in readiness by the 5th of 
 March. As first equerry, it was necessary that Albert 
 should accompany the prince. This news, which formerly 
 would have given him the highest joy, made him now 
 almost sad, for the health Of Clarice began to fill him 
 with the greatest uneasiness ; the doctor had allowed the 
 word "consumption" to escape him. Whether Clarice 
 felt herself seriously attacked, or whether, more natural 
 still, she feared only for her husband, her burst of grief 
 was so wild that Albert himself could not help crying 
 with her. Little Bathilde and Buvat cried because they 
 saw the others cry. 
 
172 LE CHEVALIER D'HARMENTAL. 
 
 The 5th of March arrived ; it was the day fixed for the 
 departure. In spite of her grief, Clarice had busied her- 
 self with her husband's outfit, and had tried to make it 
 worthy of the prince whom he accompanied ; and there- 
 fore in the midst of her tears a ray of proud joy shone 
 on her face when she saw Albert, in his elegant uniform, 
 upon his noble war-horse. As to Albert, he was full of 
 hope and pride. The poor wife smiled sadly at his dreams 
 of the future ; but in order not to dispirit him at this last 
 moment, she shut up her grief in her own heart, and sub-, 
 duing the fears which she had for him, and perhaps also 
 other fears which she felt on her own account, she was the 
 first to say to him, " Think not of me, but of your honor." 
 
 The Due d'Orleans and his army entered Catalonia in 
 the first days of April, and advanced directly, by forced 
 marches, across Arragon. On arriving at Segorbe, the 
 duke learned that the Marechal de Berwick held himself 
 in readiness for a decisive battle. In his eagerness to 
 arrive in time to take part in the action, he sent Albert 
 on at full speed, charging him to tell the marshal that 
 the Due d'Orleans was coming to his aid with ten thou- 
 sand men, and to pray that if it did not interfere with 
 his arrangements, he would wait for him before joining 
 battle. 
 
 Albert started on his mission ; but bewildered in the 
 mountains, and misled by ignorant guides, he was only a 
 day before the army, and arrived at the marshal's camp 
 at the very moment when the' engagement was about to 
 begin. Albert asked where the marshal was ; they showed 
 his position, on the left of the army, on a little hill, from 
 which he overlooked the whole plain. The Due de Ber- 
 wick was there, surrounded by his staff; Albert put his 
 horse to the gallop, and made straight toward him. 
 
 The messenger introduced himself to the marshal and 
 
GOODMAN BUVAT. 173 
 
 told him the cause of his coming. The marshal replied 
 by pointing to the field of battle, and told him to return 
 to the prince, and report to him what he had seen ; but 
 Albert had smelt powder, and was not willing to leave 
 thus. He asked permission to wait till he could at least 
 give him the news of a victory. The marshal consented. 
 At that moment a charge of dragoons seemed necessary 
 to the marshal ; he told one of his aids to carry the order 
 to charge to the colonel. The young man started at a 
 gallop, but he had scarcely gone a third of the distance 
 which separated the hill from the position of the regi- 
 ment, when his head was carried off by a cannon-ball. 
 He had not yet fallen from his stirrups when Albert, 
 seizing this occasion to take part in the battle, set spurs 
 to his horse, transmitted the order to the colonel, and 
 instead of returning to the marshal, drew his sword, and 
 charged at the head of the regiment. 
 
 This charge was one of the most brilliant of the day, 
 and penetrated so completely to the heart of the imperial 
 guard that they began to give way. The marshal had 
 involuntarily watched the young officer throughout the 
 melee, recognizing him by his uniform. He saw him 
 arrive at the enemy's colors and engage in a personal 
 contest with the standard-bearer; then, when the regi- 
 ment had taken flight, he saw him returning with his 
 trophy in his arms. On reaching the marshal, he threw 
 the colors at his feet, and tried to speak j but instead of 
 words, blood came to his lips. The marshal saw him 
 totter in his saddle, and advanced to support him, but 
 before he had time to do so, Albert had fallen ; a ball 
 had pierced his breast. The marshal sprang from his 
 horse ; but the brave young man lay dead on the stand- 
 ard he had won from the enemv^ 
 
 The Due d'Orleans arrived the day after the battle. 
 
174 LE CHEVALIER D'HARMENTAL. 
 
 He regretted Albert as one regrets a gallant man; but 
 after all, he had died the death of the brave, in the 
 midst of victory, and on the colors he himself had taken. 
 What more could be desired by a Frenchman, a soldier, 
 and a gentleman? 
 
 The duke wrote with his own hand to the poor widow. 
 If anything could console a wife for the death of her 
 husband, doubtless it would be such a letter; but poor 
 Clarice thought of but two things, — that she had no 
 longer a husband, and that her child had no longer a, 
 father. At four o'clock Buvat came in from the library ; 
 they told him that Clarice wanted him, and he went 
 down directly. The poor woman did not cry, she did 
 not complain ; she stood tearless and speechless, her eyes 
 fixed and hollow as those of a maniac. When Buvat 
 entered, she did not even turn her head toward him, but 
 holding out her hand, she presented to him the letter. 
 Buvat looked, with an air of bewilderment, to the right 
 and to the left, trying to discover what was the matter, 
 but seeing nothing to direct his conjectures, he looked 
 at the paper and read aloud : — 
 
 Madame, — Your husband has died for France and for me. 
 Neither France nor I can give you back your husband, but 
 remember that if ever you are in want of anything we are 
 both your debtors. Your affectionate 
 
 Philippe d'Orleans. 
 
 " What ! " cried Buvat, fixing his great eyes on Clarice, 
 * Monsieur du Rocher ] It is not possible ! " 
 
 " Papa is dead 1 " said little Bathilde, leaving the corner 
 where she was playing with her doll, and running to her 
 mother. "Mamma, is it true that Papa is dead?" 
 
 "Alas! yes, my dear child ! " cried Clarice, finding at 
 once words and tears, " Oh, yes, it is true ; it is but too 
 true ! Oh, how unhappy we are ! " 
 
GOODMAN BUVAT. 175 
 
 "Madame," said Buvat, whose dull imagination was 
 slow in finding consolations to suggest, "you must not 
 grieve thus ; perhaps it is a false report." 
 
 " Do you not see that the letter is from the Due d'Or- 
 leans himself?" cried the poor widow. "Yes, my child, 
 your father is dead. Weep, my child ; perhaps in seeing 
 your tears, God will have pity on me." While speaking 
 thus, the poor woman coughed so painfully that Buvat 
 felt his own breast torn by it ; but his fright was still 
 greater when he saw that the handkerchief which she 
 drew from her mouth was covered with blood. Then he 
 understood that a greater misfortune threatened Bathilde 
 than that which had just befallen her. 
 
 The apartments which Clarice occupied were now too 
 large for her. No one was astonished when she left them 
 for smaller ones on the second floor. 
 
 Aside from her grief, which dulled her other faculties, 
 Clarice felt, in common with all other noble hearts, a cer- 
 tain unwillingness to ask, even from her country, a recom- 
 pense for the blood which had been shed for it, especially 
 while that blood was still warm. The poor widow hesi- 
 tated, therefore, to present herself to the minister of war 
 to present her claims. At the end of three months, when 
 she took courage to make the first steps, the taking of 
 Eequena and that of Saragossa had already thrown into 
 the shade the battle of Almanza. Clarice showed the 
 prince's letter. The minister's secretary replied that with 
 such a letter she could not fail in obtaining what she 
 wanted, but that she must wait for his Highness's return. 
 Clarice looked in a glass at her emaciated face, and smiled 
 sadly. 
 
 " Wait ! " said she ; " yes, it would be better, I admit ; 
 but God knows if I shall have the time." 
 
 The result of this repulse was that Clarice left her lodg- 
 
176 LE CHEVALIER D'HARMENTAL. 
 
 ing on the second floor for two little rooms on the third. 
 The poor widow had no other fortune than her husband's 
 savings. The little dowry which the duke had given her 
 had disappeared in the purchase of furniture and her hus- 
 band's outfit. As the new lodging which she took was 
 much smaller than the other, no one was astonished that 
 Clarice sold part of her furniture. 
 
 The return of the Due d'Orleans was expected in the 
 autumn, and Clarice counted on this to ameliorate her 
 situation ; but contrary to all the strategic customs of 
 that period, the army, instead of going into winter quar- 
 ters, continued the campaign, and news arrived that in- 
 stead of returning, the duke was about to lay siege to 
 Lerida. Now, in 1647, the great Conde himself had 
 failed before Lerida; and the new siege, even supposing 
 that it ever came to a successful issue, threatened to be 
 wofully prolonged. 
 
 Clarice risked some new advances. This time they had 
 forgotten even her husband's name. She again had re- 
 course to the prince's letter, which had its ordinary effect ; 
 but they told her that after the siege of Lerida the duke 
 could not fail to return, and the poor widow was again 
 obliged to wait. 
 
 She left her two rooms for a little attic opposite that of 
 Buvat, and she sold the rest of her furniture, keeping only 
 a table, some chairs, Bathilde's little cot, and a bed for 
 herself. 
 
 Buvat had seen, without taking much notice, these 
 frequent removals ; and although he was not very sharp, 
 it was not difficult for him to understand his neighbor's 
 situation. Buvat, who was a careful man, had some sav- 
 ings which he earnestly wished to put at his neighbor's 
 disposal ; but Clarice's pride increased with her poverty, 
 niul poor Buvat had never yet dared to make the offer. 
 
GOODMAN BUVAT. 177 
 
 Twenty times he had gone to her with a little package 
 which contained his entire fortune, — that is to say, fifty 
 or sixty louis, — but every time he left without having 
 dared to take it out of his pocket. But one day it hap- 
 pened that Buvat, descending to go to business, having 
 met the landlord making his quarterly round, and think- 
 ing that his neighbor might be embarrassed even for so 
 small a sum, took the proprietor into his own room, say- 
 ing that the day before Madame du Kocher had given him 
 the money, that he might get both receipts at once. The 
 landlord, who had feared a delay on the part of his tenant, 
 did not care whence the money came, and willingly gave 
 the two receipts. 
 
 Buvat, in the naivete of his soul, was tormented by this 
 good action as by a crime. For three or four days he did 
 not venture to present himself to his neighbor, so that 
 when he returned he found her considerably concerned 
 for what she thought an act of indifference on his part. 
 Buvat found Clarice so much changed during those four 
 days that he went out from her presence shaking his head 
 and wiping his eyes ; and for the first time he went to bed 
 without having sung, during the fifteen turns he generally 
 took in his bedroom, — 
 
 " Then let me go, 
 And let me play," etc., 
 
 which was a proof of melancholy preoccupation. 
 
 The last days of winter passed, and brought, in passing, 
 the news that Lerida had surrendered ; but at the same time 
 it was announced that the young and indefatigable gen- 
 eral was about to besiege Tortosa. This was the last blow 
 for poor Clarice. She understood that spring was coming, 
 and with it a new campaign, which would retain the duke 
 with the army. Strength failed her, and she was obliged 
 to take to her bed. 
 
 12 
 
178 LE CHEVALIER D'HARMENTAL. 
 
 The position of Clarice was frightful. She did not de- 
 ceive herself as to her illness. She felt that it was mor- 
 tal ; and she had no one in the world to whom she could 
 commit her child. The poor woman feared death, not on 
 her own account, but on her daughter's, who would not 
 have even the stone of her mother's tomb to rest her head 
 on ; for the unfortunate have no tomb. Her husband 
 had only distant relatives, from whom she could not and 
 would not solicit aid. As to her own family, she — born 
 in France, where her mother died — had not even known 
 them ; besides, she understood that if there were any hope 
 from that quarter, there was no longer the time to seek it. 
 Death was approaching. 
 
 One night Buvat, who the evening before had left 
 Clarice devoured by fever, heard her groaning so heavily 
 that he jumped from his bed and dressed himself to go 
 and offer her help ; but on arriving at the door, he did not 
 dare to enter or to knock. Clarice was sobbing and pray- 
 ing aloud. At this moment Bathilde woke and called her 
 mother. Clarice drove back her tears, took her child 
 from the cradle, and placing her on her knees on her 
 own bed, made her repeat what prayers she knew, and 
 after each of them Buvat heard her cry in a sad 
 voice, — 
 
 " Oh, my God ! my God ! listen to my poor child ! " 
 
 There was in this nocturnal scene — the child scarcely 
 out of the cradle, and the mother halfway to the grave, 
 both in the silence of night addressing the Lord as their 
 only support — something so deeply sad that good Buvat 
 fell on his knees, and inwardly swore, what he had not 
 dared to promise openly, that though Bathilde might be 
 an orphan, yet she should not be abandoned. God had 
 heard the prayers which had ascended to Him, and He 
 had granted them. 
 
GOODMAN BUVAT. 179 
 
 The next day Buvat did what he had never dared to do 
 before. He took Bathilde in his arms, rested his good- 
 natured, round face against the charming little face of the 
 child, and said softly, " Be easy, poor little innocent ; 
 there are yet good people on the earth." 
 
 The little girl threw her arms round his neck and kissed 
 him. Buvat felt that the tears stood in his eyes, and as 
 he had often heard that one must not cry before sick peo- 
 ple, for fear of agitating them, he drew out his watch, and 
 said in a gruff voice to conceal his emotion, " Ahem ! it 
 is a quarter to ten; I must go. Good-day, Madame du 
 Rocher." 
 
 On the staircase he met the doctor, and asked him 
 what he thought of the patient. As this was a doctor 
 who came through charity, and did not consider himself 
 at all bound to be considerate, since he was not paid, he 
 replied that in three days she would be dead. 
 
 Coming back at four o'clock, Buvat found the whole 
 house in commotion. The doctor had said that they must 
 send for the viaticum. They had therefore summoned the 
 cure, and he had arrived, and preceded by the sacristan 
 and his little bell, he had without any preparation entered 
 the sick room. Clarice had received him as she would 
 have received the Lord, — that is to say, with her hands 
 joined, and her eyes turned toward heaven ; but the im- 
 pression produced on her was not the less terrible. Buvat 
 heard singing, and conjectured what must have happened. 
 He went up directly and found the landing and the door 
 of the sick room thronged by the gossips of the neighbor- 
 hood, who, as was the custom at that time, had followed 
 the holy sacrament. Round the bed of the dying woman, 
 who was already so pale and motionless that but for the 
 tears that ran down her cheeks she might have been taken 
 for a marble statue lying on a tomb, the priests were in- 
 
180 LE CHEVALIER D'HARMENTAL. 
 
 toning the prayers for the dying, and in a corner of the 
 room the little Bathilde — whom they had separated from 
 her mother, that the attention of the patient might not be 
 distracted during her last act of religion — was seated 
 on the ground, not daring to cry, frightened at seeing so 
 many persons whom she did not know, and hearing so 
 much that she did not understand. 
 
 As soon as she saw Buvat, the child ran to him as the 
 only person she knew in this grave assembly. Buvat 
 took her in his arms, and knelt with her near the bed of 
 the dying woman. At this moment Clarice lowered her 
 eyes from the heavens toward the earth. Without doubt 
 she had been addressing to God her constant prayer that 
 he would send a protector to her daughter. She saw 
 Bathilde in the arms of the only friend she had in the 
 world. With the penetrating glance of the dying she 
 read this pure and devoted heart, and in that moment 
 understood all that he had not dared to tell her. She 
 sat up in bed and held out her hand to him, uttering 
 a cry of gratitude and joy, such as the angels only can 
 understand ; and as if she had exhausted her remaining 
 strength in this maternal outburst, she sank back faint- 
 ing on the bed. 
 
 The religious ceremony was finished. The priests re- 
 tired first, then the devotees followed ; the indifferent 
 and curious were the last to leave. Among these were 
 several women. Buvat asked if there was none among 
 them who knew a good sick -nurse. One of them presented 
 herself directly, and declared, in the midst of a chorus 
 of her companions, that she had all the necessary virtues 
 for this honorable situation, but that on account of these 
 good qualities, she was accustomed to be paid a week in 
 advance, as she was much sought after in the neighbor- 
 hood. Buvat asked what her charge was for a week. 
 
GOODMAN BUVAT. 181 
 
 She replied that to any other it would be sixteen francs, 
 but as the poor lady did not seem rich, she would be con- 
 tented with twelve. Buvat, who had just received his 
 month's pay, took two crowns from his pocket and gave 
 them to her without bargaining. He would have given 
 double if she had asked it. This unexpected generosity 
 gave rise to many conjectures, some of which were not 
 complimentary to the dying woman ; so true is it that 
 a good deed is a thing so rare that when it appears to 
 the eyes of men those who are shamed by it must always 
 ascribe it to an impure or selfish motive. 
 
 Clarice was still fainting. The nurse entered on her 
 duty at once, and for want of salts gave her vinegar to 
 inhale. Buvat retired. As to Bathilde, she had been 
 told that her mother was asleep. The poor child did 
 not yet know the difference between sleep and death, 
 and returned to her corner to play with her doll. 
 
 At the end of an hour Buvat returned to ask news of 
 Clarice. She had recovered from her fainting, but though 
 her eyes were open, she did not speak. However, she 
 recognized him, for as soon as he entered she joined her 
 hands as if to pray, and then she appeared to seek for 
 something under her bolster. But the effort she made 
 was too great, and she fell back motionless upon her 
 pillow. 
 
 The nurse shook her head, and approaching the patient, 
 " Your pillow is all right," she said ; " you must not dis- 
 arrange it." Then turning to Buvat, "Ah, these sick 
 people ! n she added, shrugging her shoulders ; " they are 
 always fancying that there is something making them 
 uncomfortable ; it is death, only they do not know it." 
 
 Clarice sighed deeply, but remained motionless. The 
 nurse approached her, and passed over her lips the feather 
 of a quill dipped in a cordial of her own invention, which 
 
182 LE CHEVALIER D'HARMENTAL. 
 
 she had just brought from the apothecary's. Buvat could 
 not endure this spectacle; he recommended the mother 
 and child to the care of the nurse, and left. 
 
 The next day Clarice was still worse ; for though her 
 eyes were open, she did not seem to recognize any one 
 but her daughter, who was lying near her on the bed, 
 and whose little hand she held. On her part, the child, 
 as if she felt that this was the last maternal embrace, 
 remained quiet and silent. On seeing her kind friend, 
 she said only, "Mamma sleeps." 
 
 It appeared to Buvat that Clarice moved, as if she heard 
 and recognized her child's voice, but it might have been 
 only a nervous trembling. He asked the nurse if the sick 
 woman had wanted anything. She shook her head, say- 
 ing, "What would be the use? It would be money 
 thrown away. These apothecaries make quite enough 
 already." 
 
 Buvat would have liked to stay with Clarice, for he saw 
 that she had not long to live ; but he never would have 
 thought of absenting himself for a day from business un- 
 less he were dying himself. He therefore went as usual 
 to the library, but was so sad and melancholy that the 
 king did not gain much by his presence. His fellow- 
 clerks remarked with astonishment that that day Buvat 
 did not wait, at four o'clock, till the clock had finished 
 striking to take off the false blue sleeves which he wore 
 to protect his coat ; but that at the first stroke of the 
 clock he got up, took his hat, and went out. The super- 
 numerary, who had already asked for his place, watched 
 him as he went ; then, when he had closed the door, 
 " Well," said he, loud enough to be heard by the chief, 
 " there is one who takes it easy ! " 
 
 Buvat's presentiments were confirmed. On arriving at 
 the house, he asked the portress how Clarice was. 
 
GOODMAN BUVAT. 183 
 
 " Ah, God be thanked ! " she replied; " the poor woman 
 is happy. She suffers no more." 
 
 "She is dead ! " cried Buvat, with the shudder always 
 produced by this terrible word. 
 
 " About three quarters of an hour ago," she replied ; 
 and she went on darning her stocking, and singing a 
 merry song which she had interrupted to reply to Buvat. 
 
 Buvat ascended the steps of the staircase one by one, 
 stopping frequently to wipe his forehead ; then, on arriv- 
 ing on the landing where his room and that of Clarice 
 were located, he was obliged to lean his head against the 
 wall, for he felt his legs giving way. He stood silent and 
 hesitating, when he thought he heard Bathilde's voice 
 crying. He remembered the poor child, and this gave 
 him courage. At the door, however, he stopped again ; 
 then he heard the groans of the little girl more distinctly. 
 
 " Mamma," cried the child, in a little voice broken by 
 sobs, " will you not wake 1 Mamma, why are you so 
 cold 1 ?" Then, running to the door, and striking with 
 her hand, " Come, my kind friend, come ! " said she ; " I 
 am alone, and I am afraid." 
 
 Buvat was astonished that they had not removed the 
 child from her mother's room. The profound pity which 
 the poor little creature inspired made him forget the pain- 
 ful feeling which had stopped him for a moment, and he 
 raised his hand to open the door. The door was locked. 
 At tliis moment he heard the portress calling him. He 
 ran to the stairs, and asked her where the key was. 
 
 "Ah," she replied, "how stupid I am ! I forgot to give 
 it to you as you passed." 
 
 Buvat ran down as quickly as he could. " And why 
 is the key here 1 " he asked. 
 
 " The landlord placed it here after he had taken away 
 the furniture." 
 
184 LE CHEVALIER D'HARMENTAL. 
 
 " What ! taken away the furniture 1 " cried Buvat. 
 
 "Of course he has taken away the furniture. Your 
 neighbor was not rich, Monsieur Buvat, and no doubt she 
 owes money on all sides. Ah ! the landlord will not 
 stand tricks. The rent must be paid first; that is but 
 fair. Besides, she does not want furniture any more, 
 poor dear ! " 
 
 " But the nurse, where is she 1 " 
 
 " When she saw that her patient was dead, she went 
 away; her business was finished. But she will come 
 back to shroud her, for a crown, if you like. It is gen- 
 erally the portress who does this ; but I cannot, — I am 
 too sensitive." 
 
 Buvat understood, shuddering, all that had occurred. 
 He went up as rapidly now as he had gone slowly before. 
 His hand shook so that he could scarcely find the lock ; 
 but at length the key turned, and the door opened. 
 Clarice was extended on the floor on the mattress out 
 of her bed, in the middle of the dismantled room. An 
 old sheet was thrown over her, and was intended to cover 
 her entirely, but little Bathilde had moved it to seek for 
 her mother's face, which she was kissing when he entered. 
 
 " Ah, my friend," she cried, " wake my mamma, who 
 sleeps still. Wake her, I beg ! M And the child ran to 
 Buvat, who, standing at the entrance to the room, was 
 looking at this pitiable spectacle. 
 
 Buvat took Bathilde back to the corpse. " Kiss your 
 mother once, for the last time, my poor child," said 
 he. 
 
 The child obeyed. 
 
 "And now," said he, "let her sleep. One day God 
 will wake her ; " and he took the child in his arms and 
 carried her away. The child made no resistance. She 
 seemed to understand her weakness and her isolation. 
 
GOODMAN BUVAT. 185 
 
 He put her in his own bed, for they had carried away- 
 even the child's cot ; and when she was asleep, he went 
 out to give information of the death to the commissary 
 of the quarter, and to make arrangements for the funeral. 
 
 When he returned, the portress gave him a paper, which 
 the nurse had found in Clarice's hand. Buvat opened it 
 and recognized the letter from the Due d'Orleans. This 
 was the sole inheritance which the poor mother ha4 left 
 to her daughter. 
 
186 LE CHEVALIER D'HARMENTAL. 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 BATHILDE. 
 
 In going to make his declaration to the commissary of 
 the quarter and his arrangements for the funeral, Buvat, 
 had not forgotten to look for a woman who could take 
 care of little Bathilde, an office which he could not 
 undertake himself, — firstly, because he was entirely 
 ignorant of its duties; and secondly, because it would 
 be impossible to leave the child alone during the six 
 hours he spent daily at the library. Fortunately, he 
 knew the very person he wanted, — a woman from thirty- 
 five to thirty-eight years of age, who had been in Madame 
 Buvat's service during the last three years of her life, and 
 whose good qualities he had duly appreciated. It was 
 arranged with Nanette — for this was the good woman's 
 name — that she should live in the house, do the cooking, 
 take care of little Bathilde, and have for wages fifty francs 
 a year and her board. 
 
 This new arrangement must greatly change all Buvat's 
 habits, — obliging him to have a housekeeper, whereas 
 he had always lived as a bachelor, taking his meals at an 
 eating-house. He could no longer keep his attic, which 
 was now too small for his needs as a family man, and 
 next morning he went in search of a new lodging. He 
 found one in the Rue Pagevin, as he wished to be near 
 the royal library, that he might not have too far to walk 
 in wet weather. This apartment consisted of two cham- 
 bers, a cabinet, and a kitchen. He took it on the spot, 
 
BATHILDE. 187 
 
 and went to buy the necessary furniture for Bathilde and 
 Nanette's rooms ; and the same evening, after his return 
 from business, they moved to their new lodgings. 
 
 The next day, which was Sunday, Clarice was buried ; 
 so that Buvat had no need to ask for a day's leave even 
 for this. 
 
 For the first week or two, Bathilde asked constantly 
 for her mamma; but her friend Buvat had brought her 
 a great many pretty playthings to console her, so that she 
 soon began to ask for her less frequently ; and as she had 
 been told that her mother had gone to join her father, she 
 at length only asked occasionally when they would both 
 come back. 
 
 Buvat had put Bathilde in the best chamber ; he kept 
 the other for himself, and put Nanette in the cabinet. 
 
 This Nanette was a good woman, who cooked passably, 
 and had remarkable skill in knitting and spinning. In 
 spite of these divers talents, Buvat understood that he 
 and Nanette would not suffice for the education of a 
 young girl; and that though she might write magnifi- 
 cently, know her five rules, and be able to sew and spin, 
 she would still know only half of what she should. 
 Buvat had looked the obligation he had undertaken full 
 in the face. His was one of those happy organizations 
 which think with the heart ; and he well understood that 
 though she had become his ward, Bathilde remained none 
 the less the child of Albert and Clarice. He resolved, 
 then, to give her an education conformable, not to her 
 present situation, but to the name she bore. 
 
 In arriving at this resolution, Buvat had reasoned, very 
 simply, that he owed his place to Albert, and conse- 
 quently that the income of that place belonged to Ba- 
 thilde. His salary of nine hundred francs he divided as 
 follows : four hundred and fifty for music, drawing, and 
 
188 LE CHEVALIER D'HARMENTAL. 
 
 dancing masters ; four hundred and fifty for Bathilde's 
 dowry. 
 
 Now, supposing that Bathilde, who was four years old, 
 should marry at eighteen, the interest and the capital to- 
 gether would amount at the date of her marriage to 
 something like nine or ten thousand francs. This was 
 not much, he knew, and was much troubled "by that 
 knowledge ; but he pondered over it in vain, — he could 
 not make it more. 
 
 To defray the expense of their living, lodgings, and, 
 clothing for Bathilde and himself, and to pay Nanette's 
 wages, he would again begin to give writing lessons and 
 make copies. For this purpose he got up at five o'clock 
 in the morning, and went to bed at ten at night. This 
 would be all profit ; for thanks to this new arrangement, 
 he would lengthen his life by two or three hours daily. 
 For some time these good resolutions prospered ; neither 
 lessons nor copies were wanting ; and as two years passed 
 before Bathilde had finished the early education he him- 
 self undertook to give her, he was able to add nine hun- 
 dred francs to her little treasure. 
 
 When she was six years old Bathilde had what the 
 daughters of the richest and noblest houses seldom have 
 at that age, — masters for music, drawing, and dancing. 
 Making sacrifices for this charming child was mere pleas- 
 ure. She appeared to have received from God one of 
 those happy organizations whose aptitude makes us be- 
 lieve in a former state of being ; for they appear not so 
 much to be learning a new thing as to be remembering 
 something formerly known. As to her beauty, it amply 
 fulfilled the brilliant promise of earlier days. 
 
 Buvat was very happy during the week when, after 
 each lesson, he received the compliments of the master, 
 and very proud on Sundays, when having put on his 
 
BATHILDE. 189 
 
 salmon-colored coat, his black velvet breeches, and varie- 
 gated stockings, he took Bathilde by the hand and went 
 for his weekly walk. 
 
 It was generally toward the Chemin des Porcherons 
 that he directed his steps. This was a rendezvous for 
 bowlers, and Buvat had formerly been a great lover of 
 this game. In ceasing to be an actor, he had become a 
 judge. "Whenever a dispute arose, it was referred to him j 
 and his eye was so correct that he could tell at the first 
 glance, and without fail, which ball was nearest the mark. 
 From his judgments there was no appeal, and they were 
 received with neither more nor less respect than those of 
 Saint Louis at Yincennes. But it must be said to his 
 credit that his predilection for this walk was not entirely 
 egotistical ; this walk led also to the marsh of the Grange 
 Bateliere, whose black and gloomy waters attracted a 
 great many of those dragon-flies with the gauzy wings 
 and golden bodies which children delight to pursue. One 
 of Bathilde's greatest amusements was to run, with her 
 green net in her hand, her beautiful fair curls floating in 
 the wind, after the butterflies and dragon-flies. The 
 result of this was that Bathilde had many accidents to 
 her white frock; but provided she was amused, Buvat 
 took very philosophically a spot or a tear. This was 
 Nanette's affair. The good woman scolded well on their 
 return; but Buvat closed her mouth by shrugging his 
 shoulders and saying, " Bah ! one can't put old heads on 
 young shoulders." And as Nanette had a great respect 
 for proverbs, which she occasionally used herself, she 
 generally yielded to the force of this. 
 
 It happened also sometimes, but this was only on fete- 
 days, that Buvat complied with Bathilde's request to take 
 her to Montmartre to see the windmills. Then they set 
 out earlier. Nanette carried a dinner, which they were 
 
190 LE CHEVALIER B'HARMENTAL. 
 
 to eat on the esplanade of the abbey. They did not get 
 home till eight o'clock in the evening, but from the Cross 
 de Porcherons Bathilde slept in Buvat's arms. 
 
 Things went on thus till the year 1712, at which time 
 the "great king" found himself so embarrassed in his 
 affairs that the only thing left for him to do was to leave 
 off paying his employees. Buvat was warned of this ad- 
 ministrative measure by the cashier, who announced to 
 him one fine morning, when he presented himself to re- 
 ceive his month's pay, that there was no money. Buvat - 
 looked at the man with an astonished air ; it had never 
 entered into his head that the king could be in want of 
 money. He took no further notice of this answer, con- 
 vinced that some accident only had interrupted the pay- 
 ment, and went back to his office singing his favorite 
 
 " Then let me go, 
 And let me play, " etc. 
 
 "Pardieu / " said the supernumerary, who after waiting 
 for seven years had at last been named employee the first 
 of the preceding month, " you must be very light-hearted 
 to sing when we are no longer paid." 
 
 " What ! " cried Buvat j " what do you mean 1 " 
 
 "I mean that perhaps you have not gone to be 
 paid." 
 
 "Yes, I have just come from there." 
 
 " Did they pay you ? " 
 
 " No ; they said there was no money." 
 
 " And what do you think of that 1 " 
 
 "Oh, I think," said Buvat, "that they will pay the 
 two months together." 
 
 " Oh, yes, two months together ! Do you hear, Ducou- 
 dray 1 He thinks they will pay the two months together ! 
 Father Buvat is a good fellow." 
 
BATHILDE. 191 
 
 " We shall see next month," replied the second clerk. 
 
 "Yes," replied Buvat, to whom this remark appeared 
 very just, "we shall see next month." 
 
 " And if they do not pay you next month, nor the fol- 
 lowing months, what shall you do, Father Buvat 1" 
 
 " What shall I do % " said Buvat, astonished that there 
 could be a doubt as to his resolution. "Well, that is 
 easy to answer; I shall come just the same." 
 
 "What! if they stop paying, you will continue to 
 come 1 " 
 
 " Monsieur," said Buvat, " for ten years the king has 
 paid me down on the nail ; surely, after that he has a 
 right to ask for a little credit if he is embarrassed." 
 
 " Vile flatterer ! " said the clerk. 
 
 The month passed, and pay-day came again. Buvat 
 presented himself with perfect confidence that they would 
 pay his arrears; but to his astonishment they told him 
 that there was still no money. Buvat asked when there 
 would be any. The cashier replied that he was too in- 
 quisitive. Buvat profusely begged pardon and returned 
 to his desk, but this time without singing. 
 
 The same day the clerk resigned. Now, as it was diffi- 
 cult to replace a clerk who resigned because he was not 
 paid, and whose work must be done all the same, the 
 chief told Buvat to do the work of the departed clerk in 
 addition to his own. Buvat undertook it without a mur- 
 mur ; and as his ordinary work had left him some time free, 
 at the end of the month he had everything in good shape. 
 
 They did not pay the third month any more than the 
 two others ; it was a case of downright bankruptcy. But 
 as we have seen, Buvat never haggled about his duties. 
 What he had promised on the first impulse he did on 
 reflection ; but he was forced to attack his treasure, which 
 consisted of two years' pay. 
 
192 LE CHEVALIER D'HARMENTAL. 
 
 Meanwhile Batliilde grew. She was now a young girl 
 thirteen or fourteen years old, whose beauty became every 
 day more remarkable, and who began to understand all 
 the difficulties of her position. For some time the walks 
 to the Porcherons and the expeditions to Montmartre 
 had been given up under pretext that she preferred re- 
 maining at home to draw or play on the harpsi- 
 chord. 
 
 Buvat did not understand these sedentary tastes which 
 Bathilde had acquired so suddenly. And as, after having 
 tried two or three times to go out without her, he found 
 that it was not the walk itself he cared for, he resolved, as 
 he must have air upon a Sunday, to look for a lodging 
 with a garden. But lodgings with gardens were too high- 
 priced for one in poor Buvat's financial condition; and 
 therefore, having seen in his travels the rooms to let in 
 the Eue du Temps-Perdu, he had at once conceived the 
 bright idea of taking a terrace instead of a garden ; he 
 had even reflected that the air of the terrace would be 
 especially salubrious. He returned home to inform Ba- 
 thilde of his project, and said to her that the only incon- 
 venience he could discover in the proposed arrangement 
 was that their rooms must be separated, and that she 
 would be obliged to sleep on the fourth floor with Na- 
 nette, and he on the fifth. But what Buvat regarded as 
 an inconvenience seemed to Bathilde, on the contrary, 
 an advantage. For some time she had felt, with the in- 
 stinct of modesty natural to woman, that it was not proper 
 that her room should be separated only by a door from 
 that of a man still young, and who was neither her father 
 nor her husband. She therefore assured Buvat that from 
 his description she was quite certain that the rooms would 
 suit them admirably, and advised him to secure them at 
 once. Buvat was delighted ; the same day he gave notice 
 
BATHILDE. 193 
 
 of his intention to give up his old lodgings, and at the 
 half-term he moved. 
 
 Bathilde was right ; for since her black mantle revealed 
 the outline of beautiful shoulders, since her mittens showed 
 the prettiest fingers in the world, since of the Bathilde of 
 former times there was nothing left but her childish feet, 
 every one was taking notice that Buvat was young, that 
 the tutor and the pupil were living under the same roof 
 In fact, the gossips who, when Bathilde was six years old, 
 worshipped Buvat's footsteps, began to cry out about his 
 criminality, now that she was fifteen. Poor Buvat ! If 
 ever echo was innocent and pure, it was that of the room 
 which adjoined Bathilde's, and which for ten years had 
 sheltered his good round head, into which a bad thought 
 had never entered, even in dreams. 
 
 But on arriving at the Rue du Temps-Perdu, it was still 
 worse. In the Rue Pagevin, where his admirable conduct 
 to the child was known, this remembrance had in some 
 degree protected him against calumny ; but already so 
 much time had passed since those kindly deeds had 
 been performed that even in the Rue Pagevin they were 
 nearly forgotten. It was, then, very natural that the 
 rumors which had begun to spread should follow them 
 to their new abode, where they were altogether unknown, 
 and where their inscribing themselves under two different 
 names precluded any idea of very near relationship. Some 
 supposed that they saw in Bathilde the result of an old 
 passion which the Church had forgotten to consecrate; 
 but this idea fell at the first examination. Bathilde was 
 tall and slender, Buvat short and fat ; Bathilde had bril- 
 liant black eyes, Buvat's were blue and expressionless ; 
 Bathilde's face was white and smooth, Buvat's was bright 
 red. In short, Bathilde's whole person breathed elegance 
 and distinction, while poor Buvat was the type of vulgar 
 
 13 
 
194 LE CHEVALIER D'HARMENTAL. 
 
 good-nature. The result of this was that the women be- 
 gan to look at Bathilde with contempt, and that men 
 called Buvat a lucky fellow. 
 
 It must be said, in justice to Madame Denis, that she 
 was one of the last to believe in these rumors. We will 
 show presently on what occasion she began to credit them. 
 
 The previsions of the clerk who resigned were realized. 
 For eighteen months Buvat had not touched a sou of his 
 pay, and yet he had not relaxed for a moment in his 
 punctuality. Moreover, he was haunted with a fear that 
 the ministry would turn away a third of the clerks for the 
 sake of economy. Buvat would have looked on the loss 
 of his place as a great misfortune, although it occupied 
 him six hours a day which he might have employed in 
 a lucrative manner. And therefore his zeal increased in 
 proportion as his hope of payment diminished. The 
 result was that his employers took care not to dismiss 
 a man who worked the better the less they paid him. 
 
 His complete ignorance, however, of the time when 
 that precarious situation would come to an end, and the 
 daily diminution of his little treasure, which threatened 
 soon to be exhausted, sobered Buvat's face to such a 
 degree that Bathilde began to think that there was some- 
 thing going on of which she was ignorant. She thought 
 it would be of no use to ask Buvat, and addressing her- 
 self to Nanette, who after sufficient urging avowed all to 
 her, Bathilde learned for the first time all she owed to 
 Buvat; and that to pay her masters, and to amass her 
 dowry, Buvat worked from morning till night ; and that 
 the secret of his sadness was that in spite of this extra 
 work, since his salary was not paid, he saw the time 
 approaching when he would be obliged to tell Bathilde 
 that they must retrench all expenses that were not abso* 
 lutely necessary. 
 
BATHILDE. 195 
 
 Bathilde's first impulse on learning of this devotion was 
 to fall at Bu vat's feet and express her gratitude ; but she 
 soon understood that to arrive at her desired end she 
 must feign ignorance. 
 
 The next day Bathilde told Buvat, laughing, that it 
 would be throwing away money to keep her masters any 
 longer, for she knew as much as they did. Since, in Bu- 
 vat's eyes, Bathilde's drawings were the most beautiful 
 things in the world, and when she sang he was in the 
 seventh heaven, he found no difficulty in believing her, 
 particularly as her masters, with unusual candor, avowed 
 that their pupil knew enough to go on with her studies 
 unaided. Bathilde had such a purifying influence on all 
 who approached her. But Bathilde was not satisfied with 
 saving expense ; she wished also to earn some money. 
 Although she had made equal progress in music and 
 drawing, she understood that drawing was her only re- 
 source, and that music could be nothing but a relaxa- 
 tion. She reserved all her attention for drawing ; and as 
 she was really very talented, she soon made charming 
 sketches. At last one day she wished to know what they 
 were worth ; and she asked Buvat, in going to his office, 
 to show them to the person from whom she bought her 
 paper and crayons, and who lived at the corner of the 
 Rue de Clery. She gave him two children's heads which 
 she had drawn from fancy, and begged him to ascertain 
 their value. Buvat undertook the commission without 
 suspecting any hidden purpose, and executed it with his 
 ordinary naivete. The dealer, accustomed to such propo- 
 sitions, turned the sketches round and round with a dis- 
 dainful air, and criticising them severely, said that he 
 could offer only fifteen francs each for them. Buvat was 
 hurt, not by the price offered, but by the disrespectful 
 manner in which the shopkeeper had spoken of Bathilde's 
 
196 LE CHEVALIER D'HARMENTAL. 
 
 talent. He drew them quickly out of the dealer's hands, 
 saying that he thanked him. 
 
 The man, thinking that Buvat considered the price too 
 small, said that for friendship's sake he would go as high 
 as forty francs for the two ; but Buvat, offended at the 
 slight offered to the genius of his ward, answered dryly 
 that the drawings which he had shown him were not for 
 sale, and that he had asked their value only through curi- 
 osity. Every one knows that from the moment drawings 
 are not for sale they increase singularly in value, and the 
 dealer at length offered fifty francs ; but Buvat, little 
 tempted by this proposition, by which he did not even 
 dream of profiting, took the drawings and left the shop 
 with all the dignity of wounded pride. When he re- 
 turned, the dealer was standing, as if by chance, at his 
 door. Buvat, seeing him, kept at a distance ; but the 
 shopkeeper came to him, and putting his two hands on 
 his shoulders, asked him if he would not let him have 
 the two drawings for the price he had named. Buvat 
 replied a second time, sharply, that they were not for 
 sale. "That is a pity," replied the dealer, "for I would 
 have given eighty francs." And he returned to his door 
 with an indifferent air, but watching Buvat from a corner 
 of his eye. Buvat, however, went on with a pride that 
 was almost grotesque, and without turning once, went 
 straight home. Bathilde heard him as he came up the 
 staircase striking his cane against the balusters, as he was 
 in the habit of doing. She ran out to meet him, for she 
 was very anxious to hear the result of the negotiation ; 
 and with the lingering habit of her childhood, throwing 
 her arms round his neck, " Well, my friend," she asked, 
 " what did Monsieur Papillon say 1 " 
 
 " Monsieur Papillon," replied Buvat, wiping his fore- 
 head, "is an impertinent rascal." 
 
BATHILDE. 197 
 
 Poor Bathilde turned pale. 
 
 " How so 1 " she asked. 
 
 " Yes ; an impertinent rascal, who, instead of admiring 
 your drawings, has dared to criticise them." 
 
 " Oh ! if that is all," said Bathilde, laughing, " he is 
 right. Eemember that I am but a beginner. But did 
 he offer any price 1 " 
 
 " Yes," said Buvat ; " he had even that impertinence." 
 
 " What price 1 " asked Bathilde, trembling. 
 
 " He offered eighty francs." 
 
 " Eighty francs ! " cried Bathilde. " Oh, you must be 
 mistaken ! " 
 
 " I tell you he offered eighty francs for the two," replied 
 Buvat, laying a stress on each syllable. 
 
 " But it is four times as much as they are worth," said 
 the young girl, clapping her hands for joy. 
 
 " It is possible, though I do not think so ; but it is 
 none the less true that Monsieur Papillon is an imperti- 
 nent rascal ! " 
 
 This was not Bathilde's opinion ; but not to enter on 
 an awkward discussion with Buvat about money matters, 
 she changed the conversation, saying that dinner was 
 ready, — an announcement which generally gave a new 
 course to the worthy man's ideas. Buvat gave back the 
 drawings to Bathilde without further observation, and 
 entered the little dining-room, singing the inevitable, — 
 
 " Then let me go, 
 
 And let me play," etc. 
 
 He dined with as good an appetite as if there had been 
 no Monsieur Papillon in the world. 
 
 The same evening, while Buvat was making copies, 
 Bathilde gave the drawings to Nanette, telling her to take 
 them to Monsieur Papillon, and ask for the eighty francs 
 he had offered to Buvat. Nanette obeyed, and Bathilde 
 
198 LE CHEVALIER D'HARMENTAL. 
 
 awaited her return with great anxiety, for she still be- 
 lieved there must be some mistake as to the price. Ten 
 minutes afterward she was quite reassured, for the good 
 woman entered with the money. Bathilde looked at it 
 for an instant with tears in her eyes, then kneeling be- 
 fore the crucifix at the foot of her bed, she offered up a 
 thanksgiving that she was enabled to return to Buvat a 
 part of what he had done for her. 
 
 The next day Buvat, in returning from the office, 
 passed before Papillon's door, and his astonishment was 
 great when, through the windows of the shop, he saw the 
 drawings. The door opened, and Papillon appeared. 
 
 "Well, Papa Buvat," said he, "so you thought better 
 of it, and made up your mind to part with the two draw- 
 ings which were not for sale 1 Ah ! I did n't know you 
 were so cunning, neighbor. However, tell Mademoiselle 
 Bathilde that as she is a good girl, out of consideration 
 for her, if she will do two such drawings every month, 
 and promise not to draw for any one else for a year, I 
 will take them at the same price." 
 
 Buvat was astonished ; he grumbled out an answer 
 which the man could not hear, and went home absorbed 
 in thought. He went upstairs without striking the bal- 
 uster with his cane, as was his custom, and opened the 
 door without noise, so that Bathilde was not aware of 
 his approach. She was drawing ; she had already begun 
 another head. Perceiving her good friend standing at 
 the door with a troubled air, she put down her paper 
 and pencils, and ran to him, asking what was the matter. 
 Buvat wiped away two great tears. 
 
 " So," said he, "the child of my benefactors, of Clarice 
 Gray and Albert du Rocher, is working for her bread ! " 
 
 " But, little father," replied Bathilde, half crying, half 
 laughing, " I am not working, I am amusing myself." 
 
BATHILDE. 199 
 
 The term "little father" was substituted on great oc- 
 casions for "good friend," and ordinarily had the effect 
 of dispelling the worthy man's anxieties, but this time it 
 failed. " I am neither your little father nor your good 
 friend," he murmured, "but simply poor Buvat, whom 
 the king pays no longer, and who does not gain enough 
 by his writing to continue to give you the education 
 which a young lady like you ought to have." He let 
 his arms fall with a despairing gesture, and his cane 
 dropped out of his hands. 
 
 " Oh, you want to make me die with grief ! " cried 
 Bathilde, bursting into tears, so plainly was Buvat's 
 distress painted on his countenance. 
 
 " I kill you with grief, my child 1 " said Buvat, with 
 an accent of profound tenderness. " What have I done 1 
 What have I said? You must not cry. It wanted noth- 
 ing but that to make me miserable." 
 
 " But," said Bathilde, " I shall always cry if you do 
 not let me do what I like." 
 
 This threat of Bathilde's, puerile as it was, made Buvat 
 tremble; for since the day when the child wept for her 
 mother, not a tear had fallen from her eyes. 
 
 " Well," said Buvat, " do as you like, but promise me 
 that when the king pays my arrears — " 
 
 " That is good, little father ! " cried Bathilde, interrupt- 
 ing him ; " we will consider the rest later ; meanwhile, the 
 dinner is getting cold." And taking him by the arm, she 
 led him into the dining-room, where, by her wit and 
 sprightliness, she soon succeeded in removing the last 
 traces of sadness from Buvat's face. What would he 
 have said if he had known all? 
 
 Bathilde thought she could do the two drawings for 
 Monsieur Papillon in eight or ten days ; there remained 
 the half, at least, of every month, which she was deter 
 
200 LE CHEVALIER D'lIARMENTAL. 
 
 mined not to lose. She therefore charged Nanette to 
 search among the neighbors for some difficult, and conse- 
 quently well-paid needlework, which she could do in 
 Buvat's absence. 
 
 Nanette easily found what she sought. It was a time 
 when laces were much in vogue. The great ladies paid 
 fifty louis a yard for guipure, and then ran carelessly 
 through the woods with these transparent dresses. The 
 result of this was that many a rent had to be concealed 
 from mothers and husbands ; so that at this time there 
 was more to be made in mending laces than in selling 
 them. From her first attempt at work of this kind, Ba- 
 thilde did wonders ; her needle seemed to be that of a 
 fairy. Nanette received many compliments on the work 
 of the unknown Penelope, who repaired by day what 
 was ruined by night. 
 
 Thanks to Bathilde's labors, a portion of which was 
 unknown to all without, and even to Buvat himself, the 
 comfort of the household was increased from two sources. 
 Buvat, more tranquil, and seeing that although Bathilde 
 had not spoken definitely on the subject, he must re- 
 nounce his Sunday walks, which lost their charm when 
 Bathilde no longer took them with him, concluded to be sat- 
 isfied with the famous terrace which had determined him 
 in the choice of his house. For a week he spent an hour 
 morning and evening making his plans, concealing from 
 every one meanwhile what he intended to do. At length 
 he decided on having a fountain, a grotto, and an arbor. 
 
 One must see the citizen of Paris grappling with a 
 fantastic conceit like that which had presented itself to 
 Buvat when he determined to have a park upon his ter- 
 race, in order to understand how much which would at 
 first seem impossible the patience of man can accomplish. 
 The fountain was easily devised ; as we have said, the 
 
BATHILDE. 201 
 
 gutters, eight feet above the terrace, offered every facility 
 for its operation. The arbor, too, could be contrived 
 without difficulty; lattice-work painted green and cov- 
 ered with jasmine and honey-suckle would shield it suffi- 
 ciently from the sun. But it was the grotto which would 
 constitute the crowning triumph in these new gardens of 
 Semiramis. 
 
 On Sunday, at early dawn, Buvat set out for the forest 
 of Vincennes, where he sought for stones of peculiar form. 
 Some of these were good representations of apes' heads ; 
 others resembled crouching rabbits ; others still, toad- 
 stools; and some were like cathedral bells. When he 
 had collected a sufficient number of these stones he had 
 them put into a wheelbarrow, and for the consideration 
 of one franc, which every week he devoted to this pur 
 pose, he had them carried to the fifth story in the Rue 
 du Temps-Perdu. It took three months to complete this 
 first collection. 
 
 Next, Buvat passed from monoliths to vegetables. 
 Every root so imprudent as to appear above ground in 
 the form either of a snake or of a tortoise became the 
 property of Buvat, who with a little pruning-bill in his 
 hand wandered about with eyes fixed upon the ground 
 with the eagerness of a man seeking treasure, and when 
 he saw a woody form which pleased him, threw himself 
 upon the ground with the fierceness of a tiger pouncing 
 upon his prey. By pounding, hacking, and pulling he 
 succeeded in drawing it from the soil. This persistent 
 search, which the guards of Vincennes and St. Cloud 
 attempted more than once to check, but without success, 
 baffled as they were by Bu vat's perseverance, lasted an- 
 other three months, at the end of which he saw to his 
 great satisfaction all his material collected. 
 
 Then the architectural work began. The largest as 
 
202 LE CHEVALIER D'HARMENTAL. 
 
 well as the smallest stone which could serve in the build- 
 ing of the modern Babel was turned over and over on all 
 its sides so that it should be seen to the best advantage ; 
 then it was placed carefully in position, and so cemented 
 that each exterior projection should present a grotesque 
 imitation of a man's head, an animal's body, a plant, a 
 flower, or a fruit. Soon there was a curious conglomera- 
 tion of objects very diverse in appearance, to which were 
 added twining, crawling, climbing, all those roots, ophid- 
 ian or batrachian in form, which Buvat had surprised in 
 the very act of resembling some sort of reptile. Finally, 
 the arched roof was finished, and the grotto served as a 
 lair for a magnificent hydra, the most precious piece 'of 
 the collection, to the seven heads of which Buvat had the 
 happy idea of adding, in order to give them an air still 
 more formidable, eyes of enamel and tongues of scarlet 
 cloth. The result was that when the monster had reached 
 completion it was only with some hesitation that Buvat 
 approached the terrible cavern, and that at first nothing 
 in the world would have tempted him to walk alone 
 at night upon the terrace. 
 
A PROPOSAL OF MARPJAGE. 203 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 A PROPOSAL OF MARRIAGE. 
 
 Buvat's Babylonian undertaking had occupied him twelve 
 months. Meanwhile Bathilde had passed from her fif- 
 teenth to her sixteenth year, and the charming child had 
 become a beautiful woman. It was during this time that 
 her neighbor, Boniface Denis, had taken notice of her, and 
 to such a degree that his mother, who could refuse him 
 nothing, after having been for information to the Hue 
 Pagevin, had presented herself, under pretext of neigh- 
 borhood, to Buvat and his ward, and finally had invited 
 them both to pass Sunday evenings with her. 
 
 The invitation was given with so good a grace that 
 there was no way of refusing it, whatever might be Ba- 
 thilde's repugnance to this interruption of her solitude. 
 As for Buvat, he was delighted that some opportunity 
 of amusement should be presented to Bathilde ; besides, 
 as he knew that Madame Denis had two daughters, 
 perhaps he was not sorry to enjoy that triumph which 
 his paternal pride assured him Bathilde could not fail 
 to obtain over Mademoiselle Emilie and Mademoiselle 
 Athenais. 
 
 But the event was not precisely what the good man 
 had anticipated. Bathilde discovered at a glance the 
 mediocrity of her rivals ; and therefore when some one 
 spoke of drawing, and called on her to admire some heads 
 by these young ladies, she pretended to have nothing in 
 
204 LE CHEVALIER D'HARMENTAL. 
 
 the house that she could show ; while Buvat knew that 
 there were in her portfolio two heads, one of the infant 
 Jesus, and one of Saint John, both charming. But this 
 was not all. When Bathilde was asked to sing, after 
 Mesdemoiselles Denis had been heard, she chose a simple 
 little romance in two verses, which lasted five minutes^ 
 instead of the grand composition which Buvat had ex- 
 pected, and which should have lasted three quarters of 
 an hour. 
 
 However, to Bu vat's great astonishment, this conduct 
 appeared singularly to increase the regard of Madame 
 Denis for the young girl ; for Madame Denis, who had 
 heard great praise of Bathilde's talents, had felt, notwith- 
 standing her maternal pride, some uneasiness with respect 
 to the event of an artistic struggle among these young 
 ladies. Bathilde was overwhelmed with caresses by the 
 good woman, who, when she had gone, declared that she 
 was full of talent and modesty, and that she well deserved 
 all the praises lavished upon her. A retired silk mercer 
 raised her voice to recall the strange position of the tutor 
 and the pupil, but Madame Denis imposed silence on this 
 malicious tongue by declaring that she knew the whole 
 story from beginning to end, and that it did the greatest 
 honor to both her neighbors. Madame Denis overstepped 
 the bounds of truth in professing to be so well-informed ; 
 but the lie was trivial, and was doubtless pardoned in 
 consideration of its intention. 
 
 As to Boniface, in company he was dumb and a nonen- 
 tity ; he had been this evening so remarkably stupid that 
 Bathilde, ascribing no importance to such a fellow, had 
 hardly noticed him. 
 
 Boniface, on the contrary, having admired Bathilde 
 from a distance, became quite crazy about her when he 
 saw her near. From this time he began to sit constantly 
 
A PROPOSAL OF MARRIAGE. 205 
 
 at his window, and that obliged Bathilde to keep hers 
 closed ; for it will be remembered that Boniface then in- 
 habited the room afterward occupied by the Chevalier 
 d'Harmental. 
 
 This conduct of Bathilde, in which it was impossible to 
 see anything but supreme modesty, only augmented the 
 passion of her neighbor. At his request, his mother went 
 again to the Rue Pagevin, and to the Rue des Orties, 
 where she had learned from an old portress, who had be- 
 come nearly blind and quite deaf, something of the death- 
 scene we have related, and in which Buvat played so 
 noble a part. The good woman had forgotten the names ; 
 she remembered only that the father was a handsome 
 young officer, who had been killed in Spain, and that 
 the mother was a charming young woman, who had died 
 of grief and poverty. 
 
 Boniface also had been in search of information, and 
 had learned from his employer, who was a friend of Bu- 
 vat's notary, that every year, for six years past, five hun- 
 dred francs had been deposited with him in Bathilde's 
 name, which, with the interest, formed a little capital of 
 seven or eight thousand francs. This was not much for 
 Boniface, who, as his mother had said, would have three 
 thousand francs a year, but at least it showed that Ba- 
 thilde was not destitute. 
 
 Consequently, at the end of a month, during which 
 Madame Denis's friendship for Bathilde did not diminish, 
 seeing that her son's love greatly increased, she deter- 
 mined to ask her hand for him. One afternoon, as Buvat 
 returned from business, Madame Denis waited for him at 
 her door, and made a sign to him that she had something 
 to say to him. Buvat followed her politely as she led 
 him into the most retired room in the house. She closed 
 the door, that she might not be interrupted ; and when 
 
206 LE CHEVALIER D'HARMENTAL. 
 
 Buvat was seated she asked him with much dignity for 
 the hand of Bathilde for Boniface. 
 
 Buvat was overwhelmed by this proposal. It had 
 never entered his mind that Bathilde might marry. Life 
 without Bathilde appeared so impossible that he changed 
 color at the bare idea. Madame Denis did not fail to 
 remark the strange effect that her request had produced 
 on him. She would not even allow him to think it had 
 passed unnoticed. She offered him the bottle of salts 
 which she always kept on the mantel-piece, in full sight,' 
 so that she might have occasion to repeat three or four 
 times a week that her nerves were very sensitive. 
 
 Buvat, who was much agitated, instead of simply smell- 
 ing the salts from a reasonable distance, put the flask 
 close up under his nose. The effect was immediate. He 
 bounded to his feet, as if the angel of Habakkuk had taken 
 him by the hair. He sneezed for about ten minutes ; 
 then, having regained his senses, he said that he appreci- 
 ated all the honor of the proposal made for Bathilde, but 
 that, as Madame Denis was doubtless aware, he was only 
 Bathilde's guardian ; in which capacity he should accept 
 the duty of communicating to her the proposal made, 
 though obliged at the same time to leave her entirely 
 free to accept or to reject it. 
 
 Madame Denis considered this a very proper reply, and 
 conducted him to the door, saying that while awaiting 
 a reply, she begged him to believe that she was his 
 very humble servant. 
 
 Buvat went home, and found Bathilde very uneasy ; he 
 was half an hour late, — a thing which had not happened 
 before for ten years. The uneasiness of the young girl 
 was increased when she saw Buvat's sad and preoccupied 
 air ; and she wanted to know directly what it was that 
 caused the abstracted mien of her good friend. Buvat, 
 
A PROPOSAL OF MARRIAGE. 207 
 
 who had not had time to prepare his speech, tried to put 
 off the explanation till after dinner ; but Bathilde declared 
 that she should not go to dinner till she knew what had 
 happened. Buvat was thus obliged to deliver on the spot, 
 and without preparation, Madame Denis's proposal. 
 
 Bathilde blushed, as a young girl always does when one 
 talks to her of marriage ; then taking the hands of Buvat, 
 — who had seated himself, fearing that his legs would fail 
 to support him, — and looking at him with that sweet 
 smile which was the sun of the poor writer, " So, then, 
 little father," said she, "you have had enough of your 
 daughter, and you wish to get rid of her?" 
 
 " I ! " said Buvat, " I wish to get rid of you ! No, my 
 child ; it is I who shall die of grief if you leave me." 
 
 " Well, then, little father, why do you talk to me of 
 marriage 1 " 
 
 "Why," said Buvat, "because — because — some day 
 or other you must marry; and by and by perhaps you 
 will find a good husband, though, thank God, my little Ba- 
 thilde deserves some one better than Monsieur |Boniface." 
 
 " No, little father," answered Bathilde, " I do not de- 
 serve any one better than Monsieur Boniface, but — " 
 
 « Well, — but 1 " 
 
 " But — I will never marry." 
 
 " What ! " cried Buvat, " you will never marry? " 
 
 " Why should I ? Are we not happy as we are ? " 
 
 "Are we not happy 1 " echoed Buvat. "Sabre de boisf 
 I believe we are ! " 
 
 Sabre de bois was an innocent profanity which Buvat 
 allowed himself on great occasions, and which illustrated 
 admirably the pacific inclinations of the worthy fellow. 
 
 "Well, then," continued Bathilde, with her angel's 
 smile, " if we are happy, let us remain as we are. You 
 know, little father, we must not tempt Providence." 
 
208 LE CHEVALIER D'HARMENTAL. 
 
 " Come and kiss me, my child ! " said Buvat. " Ah, it 
 is as if you had just lifted Montmartre off my stomach ! " 
 
 " You do not wish for this marriage, then 1 " 
 
 " I wish for this marriage ! " cried Buvat ; " I ! I 
 wish to see you the wife of that whelp of a Boniface ! — 
 that cub of Satan, whom I despised from the first, with- 
 out knowing why ! I know it now." 
 
 " If you do not desire this marriage, why do you speak 
 to me about it?" 
 
 " Because you know well that I am not really your 
 father; that I have no authority over you ; that you are free." 
 
 " Indeed, am I free 1 " answered Bathilde, laughing. 
 
 " Free as air." 
 
 " Well, then, if I am free, I refuse." 
 
 " Diable / you refuse, and I am very glad of it," said 
 Buvat; "but how shall I say that to Madame Denis 1 ?" 
 
 " How 1 Tell her that I am too young ; that I do not 
 wish to marry ; that I want to remain always with you." 
 
 " Come to dinner," said Buvat ; " perhaps a bright idea 
 will strike me when I am eating. It is odd ; my appe- 
 tite has come back all of a sudden. Just now I thought 
 I could not swallow a drop of water. Now I could drink 
 the Seine dry." 
 
 Buvat drank like a Swiss, and ate like an ogre ; but in 
 spite of this infraction of his ordinary habits, no bright 
 idea came to him ; so that he was obliged to tell Madame 
 Denis squarely that Bathilde was very much honored by 
 her proposal, but that she did not wish to marry. 
 
 This unexpected response astounded Madame Denis, 
 who had never imagined that a poor little orphan like 
 Bathilde could refuse so brilliant a match as her son ; 
 consequently she answered very sharply that every one 
 was free to choose, and that if Mademoiselle Bathilde 
 chose to be an old maid, she was perfectly welcome. 
 
A PROPOSAL OF MARRIAGE. 209 
 
 But when she reflected on this refusal, which in her 
 maternal pride she could not understand, all the old cal- 
 umnies which she had heard about the young girl and her 
 guardian returned to her mind ; and as she was in a mood 
 to believe them, she made no further doubt that they 
 were true. Accordingly, when she transmitted to Boni- 
 face their beautiful neighbor's answer, she said, to console 
 him for this matrimonial disappointment, that it was very 
 lucky that the negotiations had terminated as they had, 
 inasmuch as she had been informed of certain matters, 
 which, had Bathilde consented, would have compelled 
 her to prevent the marriage. 
 
 Madame Denis thought it incompatible with her dig- 
 nity that after so humiliating a refusal her son should 
 continue to inhabit the room opposite Bathilde's; she 
 therefore gave him one on the ground-floor, and imme- 
 diately offered for rent the room which Monsieur Boni- 
 face had left. 
 
 A week after, as Monsieur Boniface, to revenge himself 
 on Bathilde, was teasing Mirza, who was standing in the 
 doorway, not thinking the weather good enough for her 
 to trust her little white feet out of doors, Mirza, whom 
 the habit of being petted had made very irritable, darted 
 out on Monsieur Boniface, and bit him cruelly in the 
 calf of his leg. 
 
 It was in consequence of this that the poor fellow, 
 whose heart was still suffering, and whose leg was hardly 
 healed, cautioned D'Harmental to beware of Bathilde's 
 coquetry, and to throw a sop to Mirza. 
 
 U 
 
210 LE CHEVALIER D'HARMENTAL. 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 FIRST LOVE. 
 
 Monsieur Boniface's room remained vacant for three or 
 four months, when one day Bathilde, who was accustomed 
 to see the window closed, on raising her eyes found that it 
 was open, and at the window she saw a strange face ; it 
 was that of D'Harmental. Few such faces as that of 
 the chevalier were seen in the Rue du Temps-Perdu. 
 Bathilde, admirably situated, behind her curtain, for 
 seeing without being seen, was attracted involuntarily. 
 There was in our hero's features a distinction and an 
 elegance which could not escape Bathilde's eyes. The 
 chevalier's dress, simple as it was, betrayed the elegance 
 of the wearer. Then Bathilde had heard him give some 
 orders, and they had been given with that inflection of 
 voice which indicates the habit of command. 
 
 The young girl had discovered at the first glance that 
 this man was very superior in all respects to him whom 
 he succeeded in the possession of this little room, and 
 with the instinct natural to persons of good birth, she at 
 once recognized him as being of high family. The same 
 day the chevalier had tried his harpsichord. At the first 
 sound of the instrument Bathilde had raised her head. 
 The chevalier, though he did not know that he had a 
 listener, or perhaps because he did not know it, went on 
 with preludes and fantasias which showed an amateur of 
 no mean talents. At these sounds, which seemed to 
 wake all the musical chords of her own organization, 
 
FIRST LOVE. 211 
 
 Bathilde had risen and approached the window that she 
 might not lose a note, for such a performance was a thing 
 unheard of in the Rue du Temps-Perdu. Then it was 
 that D'Harmental had seen against the window the 
 charming little fingers of his neighbor, and had driven 
 them away by turning round so quickly that Bathilde 
 could not doubt she had been seen. 
 
 The next day Bathilde thought it was a long time 
 since she had played, and sat down to her instrument. 
 She began nervously, she knew not why ; but as she was 
 an excellent musician, her fear soon passed away, and it 
 was then that she executed so brilliantly that piece from 
 " Armida " which had been heard with so much astonish- 
 ment by the chevalier and the Abbe Brigaud. 
 
 We have shown how, on the following morning, the 
 chevalier had seen Buvat, and had become acquainted 
 with Bathilde's name. The appearance of the young girl, 
 the reader will remember, had made the deeper impression 
 on the chevalier from its being so unexpected in such 
 a place; and he was still under the influence of the 
 charm when Roquefinette entered and gave a new direc- 
 tion to his thoughts, which, however, soon returned to 
 Bathilde. 
 
 The next day, Bathilde, who, attracted by the first rays 
 of the spring sun, was early at her window, became aware 
 that the eyes of the chevalier were ardently fixed upon 
 her. She had noticed his face, young and handsome, to 
 which the thought of the responsibility he had taken gave 
 a certain air of sadness ; but sadness and youth go so 
 badly together that this anomaly had interested her. This 
 handsome young man, then, had something to annoy him ; 
 perhaps he was unhappy. What could be his sorrow! 
 Thus, from the second time she had seen him, Bathilde's 
 thoughts had been led quite naturally to dwell upon the 
 
212 LE CHEVALIER D'HARMENTAL. 
 
 chevalier. This had not prevented Bathilde from shutting 
 her window ; but from behind her window she had seen 
 the chevalier's sad face become sadder still. Then she had 
 instinctively understood that she had given pain to that 
 handsome young man; and when she sat down to her 
 harpsichord, was she not directed by a secret feeling that 
 music is the consoler of troubled hearts? 
 
 That evening it was D'Harmental who played; and 
 Bathilde listened with all her soul to the melodious voice 
 which spoke of love in the dead of night. Unluckily for 
 the chevalier, who, seeing the shadow of the young girl 
 behind the drapery, began to think that he was making a 
 favorable impression on the other side of the street, he 
 had been interrupted in his concert by the lodger on the 
 third floor. But the most important thing was accom- 
 plished, — there was already a point of sympathy between 
 them, and they already spoke that language of the heart, 
 the most dangerous of all. 
 
 The next morning Bathilde, who had dreamed all 
 night about music, and a little about the musician, felt 
 that something strange and unknown was taking place 
 within her, and though she was strongly attracted toward 
 the window, she kept it scrupulously closed. From this 
 resulted the mood of impatience under the influence of 
 which the chevalier had gone to breakfast with 'Madame 
 Denis. 
 
 There he had learned one important piece of news, 
 which was that Bathilde was neither the daughter, the 
 wife, nor the niece of Buvat. He had therefore gone 
 upstairs joyfully, and finding the window open, he had 
 put himself — in spite of the friendly advice of Boniface 
 — in communication with Mirza, by means of bribing her 
 with sugar. The unexpected return of Bathilde had in- 
 terrupted this amusement; the chevalier, in his egotistical 
 
FIRST LOVE. 213 
 
 delicacy, had shut his window ; but before the window 
 had been shut, a salute had been exchanged between the 
 two young people. This was more than Bathilde had 
 ever accorded to any man, — not that she had not from 
 time to time exchanged salutes with some acquaintance 
 of Buvat, but this was the first time she had blushed 
 as she did so. 
 
 The next day Bathilde had seen the chevalier at his 
 window, and without being able to understand the 
 action, had seen him nail a crimson ribbon to the outer 
 wall j she had especially noticed the extraordinary anima- 
 tion visible on the young man's face. Half an hour after- 
 ward she had seen with the chevalier a man unknown to 
 her, but whose appearance was not reassuring ; this was 
 Captain Roquefinette. Bathilde had also noticed, with a 
 vague uneasiness, that as soon as the man with the long 
 sword had entered, the chevalier had quickly fastened 
 the door. 
 
 The chevalier, as we know, had a long conference with 
 the captain ; for they had to arrange all the preparations 
 for the evening's expedition. The chevalier's window 
 therefore remained so long closed that Bathilde, thinking 
 that he had gone out, had thought she might without 
 impropriety open her own. Hardly was it open, how- 
 ever, when that of her neighbor, who had seemed only 
 to await this moment to put himself in communication 
 with her, opened in its turn. Fortunately, Bathilde, who 
 would have been much embarrassed by this coincidence, 
 was in that part of the room where the chevalier could 
 not see her. She determined, therefore, to keep herself 
 out of sight so long as this state of things should con- 
 tinue, and she sat down near the other window, which 
 was still shut. 
 
 Mirza, however, who had not the same scruples as her 
 
2U LE CHEVALIER D'HARMENTAL. 
 
 mistress, no sooner saw the chevalier than she ran to the 
 window, placed her paws on the sill, and began dancing 
 on her hind-feet. These attentions were rewarded, as 
 she had expected, by a first, then a second, then a third 
 lump of sugar; but this third bit, to the no small aston- 
 ishment of Bathilde, was wrapped up in a piece of paper. 
 
 This piece of paper troubled Bathilde a great deal more 
 than it did Mirza, who, accustomed to crackers and sucre 
 tie pomme, soon got the sugar out of its envelope by means 
 of her paws ; and as she thought very much of the con- 
 tents of the package and very little of the wrapper, she 
 ate the sugar, and leaving the paper, ran to the window. 
 But the chevalier had disappeared ; assured, no doubt, of 
 Mirza's skill, he had retired into his room. 
 
 Bathilde was very much embarrassed ; she had seen at 
 the first glance that the paper contained three or four 
 lines of writing. Now, in spite of the sudden friendship 
 which her neighbor seemed to have acquired for Mirza, 
 it could not be to Mirza that he wrote ; the letter, then, 
 was for Bathilde. 
 
 But what was to be done with that letter 1 To pick it 
 up and destroy it would be very noble and very proper ; 
 but if, as was quite possible, the paper had contained that 
 writing for a long time, then the action would be ridicu- 
 lous in the highest degree, and, besides, it would show 
 that she had thought it might be a letter. Bathilde re- 
 solved, then, to leave things as they were. ^The chevalier 
 could not know that she was at home, since he had not 
 seen her; he could not, therefore, draw any deduction 
 from the fact that the paper remained on the floor. She 
 therefore continued to work, or rather to reflect, hidden 
 behind her curtain, as the chevalier probably was hidden 
 behind his. 
 
 In about an hour, of which it must be confessed Ba- 
 
FIRST LOVE. 215 
 
 thilde passed three quarters with her eyes fixed on the 
 paper, Nanette entered. Bathilde, without moving, told 
 her to shut the window. 
 
 Nanette obeyed ; but in returning she saw the paper. 
 " What is that 1 " she asked, stooping down to pick it up. 
 
 "Nothing," answered Bathilde, quickly, forgetting that 
 Nanette could not read, " only a paper which has fallen 
 out of my pocket," — then, after an instant's pause, and 
 with a visible effort, — " and which you may throw on 
 the fire," she added. 
 
 " But it may be something important ; see what it is, 
 at all events, Mademoiselle." And Nanette presented the 
 letter to Bathilde. 
 
 The temptation was too strong to be overcome. Bathilde 
 cast her eyes on the paper, affecting an air of indifference, 
 and read as follows : — 
 
 " They say you are an orphan . I have no parents. We 
 are, then, brother and sister before God. This evening I shall 
 be exposed to a great danger ; but I hope to come out of it 
 safe and sound if my sister Bathilde will pray for her brother 
 Raoul." 
 
 " You are right," said Bathilde, in an agitated voice, 
 and taking the paper from the hands of Nanette, " that 
 paper is more important than I thought ; " and she put 
 D'Harmental's letter in the pocket of her apron. Five 
 minutes after, Nanette, who came in twenty times a day 
 without any particular reason, went out as she had en- 
 tered, and left Bathilde alone. 
 
 Bathilde had only glanced at the letter, and it had 
 seemed to dazzle her. As soon as Nanette had closed 
 the door, she reopened it and read it a second time. 
 
 It would have been impossible to have said more in 
 fewer words. If D'Harniental had taken a whole day to 
 
216 LE CHEVALIER D'HARMENTAL. 
 
 weigh every word of the billet, instead of writing on the 
 spur of the moment, he could not have devised it more 
 skilfully. In fact, he established, with his first words, an 
 equality of social rank between himself and the orphan ; 
 he interested Bathilde in her neighbor's fate on account of 
 a menacing danger, — a danger which would appear all 
 the greater to the young girl from her not knowing its 
 nature ; and finally, the words " brother " an# " sister," 
 so skilfully introduced in closing, — and that only to ask 
 from the sister a prayer for the brother, — excluded from 
 these first advances all idea of love. And if at this 
 moment Bathilde had found herself face to face with 
 D'Harmental, instead of being embarrassed and blush- 
 ing like a young girl who has just received her first love- 
 letter, she would have taken him by the hand and said to 
 him, smiling, "Be satisfied ; I will pray for you." 
 
 There remained, however, on the mind of Bathilde 
 something more dangerous than all the declarations in 
 the world, and that was the idea of the peril which her 
 neighbor was about to incur. By a sort of presentiment 
 with which she had been seized on seeing him, with a face 
 so different from his ordinary expression, nail the crimson 
 ribbon to his window, and withdraw it as soon as the 
 captain entered, she was almost sure that the danger was 
 somehow connected with this new personage, whom she 
 had never seen before. But how was this danger con- 
 nected with him 1 ? What was. the nature of the danger 
 itself? This was what she asked herself in vain. She 
 thought of a duel ; but to a man such as the chevalier 
 appeared to be, a duel was not one of those dangers for 
 which one asks the prayers of women. Besides, the time 
 indicated was not that which is usually appointed for 
 duels. Bathilde lost herself in her conjectures ; but in 
 losing herself, she thought of the chevalier, always of the 
 
FIRST LOVE. 217 
 
 chevalier, and of nothing but the chevalier, and if he had 
 calculated upon such an effect, it must be owned that his 
 calculations were wofully true for poor Bathilde. 
 
 During the remainder of the day Bathilde saw Raoul no 
 more. Either because he was busily employed or be- 
 cause he considered it good strategy, he kept his window 
 obstinately closed. And therefore, when Buvat came 
 home as usual, at ten minutes after four, he found the 
 young girl so much preoccupied that although his per- 
 spicacity was not great in such matters, he asked her 
 three or four times if anything was wrong ; she answered 
 him every time by one of those smiles which interested 
 Buvat so much in looking at her that he forgot every- 
 thing else. The consequence was that in spite of these 
 repeated questions Bathilde kept her secret. 
 
 After dinner Monsieur de Chaulieu's lackey entered ; he 
 came to ask Buvat to spend the evening with his master, 
 who had several poems for him to copy. The Abbe de 
 Chaulieu was one of Buvat's best patrons, and often came 
 to his house, for he had taken a great liking for Bathilde. 
 The poor abbe became blind, but not so entirely as not to 
 be able to recognize a pretty face ; though it is true that 
 he saw it through a cloud. The abbe had told Bathilde, 
 in his sexagenarian gallantry, that his only consolation 
 was that it is thus that one sees the angels. 
 
 Bathilde thanked the good abbe from the bottom of 
 her heart for thus procuring her an evening's solitude. 
 She knew that when Buvat went to visit the Abbe de 
 Chaulieu he ordinarily stayed a long time ; and she hoped 
 that he would make as long a visit on this occasion as he 
 was accustomed to make. Poor Buvat went out without 
 imagining that for the first time she desired his absence. 
 
 Buvat was a lounger, like every other bourgeois of 
 Paris. From one. end to the other of the Palais Royal 
 
218 LE CHEVALIER D'HARMENTAL. 
 
 he stared at the shops, stopping for the thousandth time 
 before objects he was in the habit of admiring. On leav- 
 ing the colonnade he heard singing, and saw a group of 
 men and women who were listening to the songs; he 
 joined them, and listened too. At the moment of the 
 collection he went away, not from a bad heart, nor that 
 he would have wished to refuse the excellent musician 
 the reward which was his due, but because by an old 
 habit, of which time had proved the advantage, he always 
 came out without money, so that by whatever he was 
 tempted he was sure not to yield to the temptation. 
 This evening he was much tempted to drop a sou into 
 the singer's bowl, out as he had not a sou in his pocket, 
 he was obliged to go away. He made his way, then, as 
 we have seen, toward the Barriere des Sergens, passed up 
 the Rue du Coq, crossed the Pont-Neuf, and returned 
 along the quay to the Rue Mazarine , it was in the Rue 
 Mazarine that the Abbe de Chaulieu lived. 
 
 The Abbe de Chaulieu received Buvat, whose excellent 
 qualities he had appreciated during their two years' ac- 
 quaintance, as he was accustomed to receive him ; that is 
 to say, after much pressing on his part, and many diffi- 
 culties on Buvat's, he made him sit down near him- 
 self before a table covered with papers. It is true that at 
 first Buvat sat on the very edge of his chair; gradually, 
 however, he got farther and farther on, put his hat on the 
 ground, took his cane between his legs, and at length 
 found himself sitting almost like any one else. 
 
 The work that was to be done did not promise a short 
 sitting ; there were thirty or forty poems on the table to 
 be classified. The Abbe de Chaulieu began by naming 
 them one after another in their order, while Buvat wrote 
 on each a number. Then, that preliminary task being con- 
 cluded, since the good abbe could not write, and em- 
 
FIRST LOVE. 219 
 
 ployed his lackey as an amanuensis, he proceeded with 
 Buvat to work of another kind ; that is to say, to the 
 correction of metre and orthography. The Abbe de Chau- 
 lieu did not weary of this occupation, and Buvat was in- 
 terested in it as his proper business, so that the clock 
 struck eleven when both of them thought it could be no 
 later than nine. 
 
 They had just finished their work, and Buvat rose, hor- 
 rified at having to return home at such an hour ; it was 
 the first time such a thing had ever happened to him. 
 He rolled up the manuscript, tied it with a red ribbon, 
 which had probably served as a sash to Mademoiselle de 
 Launay, put it in his pocket, took his cane, picked up his 
 hat, and left the house, abridging his leave-taking as 
 much as possible. To add to his misfortunes, there was 
 no moonlight, and the sky was darkened by clouds. 
 Buvat regretted not having two sous in his pocket that 
 he might cross the ferry, which was then where now 
 stands the Pont des Arts ; but we have already explained 
 Bu vat's theory to our readers, and he was obliged to re- 
 turn as he had come, — by the Quai Conti, the Rue Pont- 
 Neuf, the Rue du Coq, and the Rue St. Honore. 
 
 Thus far he proceeded in safety, and although the 
 statue of Henri IV., of which Buvat had forgotten either 
 the existence or the location, had frightened him terribly, 
 and the clock of the Samaritaine, striking the half-hour 
 without warning within fifty feet of him, had made him 
 tremble from head to foot, he had encountered no real 
 peril j but when he came to the Rue des Bons-Enfans 
 all was changed. In the first place the aspect of the 
 street itself, long, narrow, and lighted only by two flick- 
 ering lanterns, was not reassuring, and this evening it 
 had to Buvat a very singular appearance. He did not 
 know whether he was asleep or awake, — whether he was 
 
220 LE CHEVALIER D'HARMENTAL. 
 
 dreaming or had before him a fantastic vision of Flemish 
 sorcery. In that street everything seemed to be alive; 
 the posts moved as he passed them ; all the recesses 
 were full of whisperings ; men crossed like shadows from 
 one side of the street to the other. At last, when he had 
 arrived at No. 24, he was stopped, as we have seen, by 
 the chevalier and the captain. It was then that D'Har- 
 mental had recognized him, and had protected him against 
 the first impulse of Eoquefinette, urging him to go on 
 his way as quickly as possible. There was no need to 
 repeat the request ; Buvat set off at a trot, gained the 
 Place des Victoires, the Rue du Mail, the Rue Mont- 
 martre, and at last arrived at his own house, No. 4 Rue 
 du Temps-Perdu, where, however, he did not think him- 
 self safe till he had shut the door and bolted it behind 
 him. 
 
 There he stopped an instant to breathe and to light his 
 candle, and then ascended the stairs ; but he felt in his 
 legs the effect of the occurrence, for they trembled so that 
 he could hardly get to the top. 
 
 As to Bathilde, she had remained alone, getting more 
 and more uneasy as the evening advanced. Up to seven 
 o'clock she had seen a light in her neighbor's room, but 
 at that time the lamp had been extinguished ; the hours 
 rolled on, and no light appeared in the chamber. Then 
 Bathilde's time had been divided between two occupa- 
 tions : standing at her window to see if her neighbor did 
 not return, and kneeling before the crucifix, where she 
 said her evening prayers. She had heard the clocks 
 strike nine, ten, eleven, and half-past eleven. She had 
 heard all the noises in the street die away one by one, 
 and sink gradually into that vague and heavy sound 
 which seems the breathing of a sleeping town ; and all 
 this without bringing her the slightest information as to 
 
FIRST LOVE. 221 
 
 whether he who had called himself her brother had sunk 
 under the danger which had threatened him, or had 
 passed through it in safety. 
 
 She was in her own room, without light, so that no 
 one might see that she was watching, and was kneeling 
 before her crucifix for the tenth time, when the door 
 opened, and by the light of his candle she saw Buvat, so 
 pale and haggard that she knew in an instant that some- 
 thing must have happened to him. She sprang up, 
 moved by the anxiety she felt for another, and darted 
 toward him, asking what was the matter. 
 
 But it was no easy thing to make Buvat speak ; the 
 shock had reached his mind, and his tongue stammered 
 as much as his legs trembled. Still, when he was seated 
 in his easy-chair, and had wiped his forehead with his 
 handkerchief, when he had made two or three journeys 
 to the door to see that the terrible visitants of the Eue 
 des Bons-Enfans had not followed him home, he began to 
 stutter out his adventure. He told how he had been 
 stopped in the Eue des Bons-Enfans by a band of rob- 
 bers, whose lieutenant, a ferocious man nearly six feet 
 high, had wanted to kill him, when the captain had 
 come and saved his life. Bathilde listened with rapt 
 attention, first, because she loved her guardian sincerely, 
 and his condition showed that — with or without reason 
 — he had been greatly terrified ; and then because it 
 seemed to her that nothing which happened that night 
 could be unimportant. Strange as the idea might be, 
 the thought came to her that the handsome young man 
 was perhaps not wholly unconnected with the scene in 
 which Buvat had just played a part. She asked him if 
 he had time to observe the face of the young captain who 
 had come to his aid, and saved his life. 
 
 Buvat answered that he had seen him face to face, as 
 
222 LE CHEVALIER D'HARMENTAL. 
 
 he saw her at that moment, and that he was a handsome 
 young man, twenty-five or twenty-six years old, wearing 
 a large felt hat, and wrapped in a cloak ; moreover, in the 
 movement which he had made in stretching out his hand 
 to protect him, the cloak had opened, and shown that 
 besides his sword, he carried a pair of pistols in his belt. 
 
 These details were so precise as to preclude the idea 
 that Buvat had been dreaming. Preoccupied as Bathilde 
 was with the danger to which the chevalier was exposed, 
 she was none the less touched by that, smaller, no doubt, 
 but still real, which Buvat had just escaped; and as re- 
 pose is the best remedy for all shocks, physical or moral, 
 after offering him the glass of wine and sugar which he 
 allowed himself on great occasions, and which neverthe- 
 less he now refused, she reminded him of his bed, where 
 he ought to have been two hours before. 
 
 The shock had been violent enough to deprive Buvat of 
 all wish for sleep, and even to convince him that he 
 should sleep badly that night ; but he reflected that in 
 sitting up he should force Bathilde to sit up, and should 
 see her in the morning with red eyes and pale cheeks. 
 Therefore, with his usual sacrifice of self, he told Bathilde 
 that she was right, that he felt that sleep would do him 
 good. He lighted his candle, kissed her forehead, and 
 went up to his own room, — not without stopping two 
 or three times on the staircase to listen for noises. 
 
 Left alone, Bathilde heard Buvat go from the landing 
 into his room ; then she heard the creaking of his door, 
 which he double-locked ; then, almost as trembling as 
 Buvat himself, she ran to the window, in her anxiety 
 forgetting everything, even to pray. 
 
 She remained thus for nearly an hour, but without 
 having kept any measure of time. Then she gave a cry 
 of joy; for through the window, which no curtain now 
 
FIRST LOVE. 223 
 
 obscured, she saw her neighbor's door open, and D'Har- 
 mental enter with a candle in his hand. 
 
 By a miracle of divination Bathilde bad been right in 
 ber conjecture. The man in the felt hat and the cloak, 
 who had protected Buvat, was really the young stranger ; 
 for the stranger wore a felt hat and a cloak. Moreover, 
 as soon as he had entered his room and shut the door, 
 with almost as much care as Buvat had exercised in se- 
 curing his, he threw his cloak on a chair, and she saw 
 that he wore a tight coat of a dark color, and had in his 
 belt a sword and pistols. There was no longer any doubt ; 
 from head to foot he answered the description given by 
 Buvat. Bathilde was the more able to assure herself of 
 this because D'Harmental, without taking off any of his 
 attire, took two or three turns in his room, his arms 
 crossed, and thinking deeply ; then he took his pistols 
 from his belt, assured himself that they were primed, 
 and placed them on the table near his bed, unclasped his 
 sword, took it half out of the scabbard, replaced it, and 
 put it under his pillow ; then, shaking his head, as if to 
 shake off the sombre ideas that annoyed him, he ap- 
 proached the window, opened it, and gazed earnestly at 
 that of the young girl, who, forgetting that she could not 
 be seen, stepped back, and let the curtain fall before her, 
 as if the darkness which surrounded her were not a suffi- 
 cient screen. 
 
 She remained ten minutes thus motionless and silent, 
 her hand on her heart, as if to still its beatings ; then 
 she gently raised the curtain, but that of her neighbor 
 was down, and she saw nothing but his shadow passing 
 and repassing behind it. 
 
224 LE CHEVALIER D'HARMENTAL. 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 THE CONSUL DUILIUS. 
 
 The morning following the day, or rather the night, on 
 which the events we have just related had occurred, the 
 Due d'Orleans, who had returned to the Palais Eoyal 
 without accident, after having slept all night as usual, 
 passed into his study at his accustomed hour; that is 
 to say, about eleven o'clock. Thanks to the sang-froid 
 with which Nature had blessed him, and which he owed 
 chiefly to his great courage, to his disdain for danger, and 
 his carelessness of death, not only was it impossible to 
 observe in him any change from his ordinary calm, which 
 ennui only turned to gloam, but he had most probably 
 already forgotten the strange event of which he had so 
 nearly been the victim. 
 
 The study into which he had just entered was remark- 
 able as belonging to a man who was at once a savant, a 
 politician, and an artist. Thus a large table covered with 
 a green cloth, and loaded with papers, inkstands, and 
 pens, occupied the middle of the room ; but all around 
 on desks, on easels, on stands, were an opera commenced, 
 a half-finished drawing, a chemical retort, etc. The re- 
 gent, with a strange versatility of mind, passed in an in- 
 stant from the deepest problems of politics to the most 
 capricious fancies of painting, and from the most delicate 
 calculations of chemistry to the sombre or joyous inspira- 
 tions of music. The regent feared nothing but ennui, 
 that enemy against whom he struggled unceasingly, with- 
 
THE CONSUL DUILIUS. 225 
 
 out ever quite succeeding in conquering it, and which, 
 repulsed by work, study, or pleasure, yet remained in 
 sight, so to speak, like one of those clouds on the hori 
 zon, toward which, even in the finest days, the pilot in- 
 voluntarily turns his eyes. Therefore the regent never 
 allowed himself to be unoccupied, and had the most 
 opposite amusements always at hand. 
 
 On entering his study, where the council were to meet 
 in two hours, he went toward an unfinished drawing, 
 representing a scene from "Daphnis and Chloe," and 
 applied himself to the work interrupted two days before 
 by that famous game of tennis which had begun with a 
 racket-blow, and finished with the supper at Madame de 
 Sabran's. 
 
 A messenger came to inform the regent that Madame 
 Elizabeth Charlotte, his mother, had asked twice if he 
 were up. The regent, who had the most profound respect 
 for the princess-palatine, sent word that not only was he 
 visible, but that if Madame was ready to receive him, he 
 would pay her a visit directly. He then returned to his 
 work with all the eagerness of an artist. Within a 
 few minutes the door opened, and his mother herself 
 appeared. 
 
 Madame, the wife of Philippe I., brother of King Louis 
 XIV., came to France after the strange and unexpected 
 death of Madam Henrietta of England, to take the place 
 of that beautiful and gracious princess, who had passed 
 from the scene like a dream. The comparison, difficult 
 to sustain for any new-comer, was doubly so to the poor 
 German princess, who, if we may believe her own por- 
 trait of herself, with her small eyes, her short and thick 
 nose, her long thin lips, her hanging cheeks, and her 
 large face, was far from beautiful. Unfortunately, the 
 faults of her face were not compensated for by beauty 
 
 15 
 
226 LE CHEVALIER D'HARMENTAL. 
 
 of figure. She was of low stature and fat, with a short 
 "body and legs, and such frightful hands that she avows 
 herself that there were none uglier to be found in the 
 world, and that it was the only thing about her to which 
 Louis XIV. <5buld never become accustomed. But Louis 
 XIV. had chosen her, not to increase the beauties of his 
 court, but to extend his influence beyond the Rhine. 
 
 By the marriage of his brother with the princess-pala- 
 tine, Louis XIV. — who had already acquired some chance 
 of inheritance in Spain by marrying Maria Theresa, and 
 in England by Philippe I.'s marriage with the Princess 
 Henrietta, only sister of Charles II. — would acquire new 
 rights over Bavaria, and probably in the Palatinate. He 
 calculated, and calculated rightly, that her brother, who 
 was delicate, would die young and without children. 
 
 Madame, instead of being treated at her husband's 
 death according to her marriage contract, and forced to 
 retire into a convent, or into the old castle of Montargis, 
 was, in spite of Madame de Maintenon's hatred, main- 
 tained by Louis XIV. in all the titles and honors which 
 she enjoyed during her husband's lifetime, — although 
 the king had not forgotten the blow which she gave to 
 the young Due de Chartres at Versailles, when he an- 
 nounced his marriage with Mademoiselle de Blois. The 
 proud princess, with her thirty-two quarterings, thought 
 it a humiliation that her son should marry a woman 
 whom the royal legitimation could not prevent from being 
 the fruit of a double adultery, and at the first moment, 
 unable to command her feelings, she had revenged herself 
 by this maternal correction — slightly excessive, adminis- 
 tered to a young man of eighteen years — for the affront 
 offered to the honor of her ancestors. 
 
 As the young Due de Chartres had himself consented 
 unwillingly to this marriage, he easily understood hia 
 
THE CONSUL DUILIUS. 227 
 
 mother's dislike to it, — though he would have preferred, 
 doubtless, that she should have shown it in a less Teu- 
 tonic manner. The result was that when Monsieur died, 
 and the Due de Chartres became Due d'Orleans, his 
 mother, who might have feared that the blow at Ver- 
 sailles had left some disagreeable reminiscence in the 
 mind of the new master of the Palais Royal, found, on 
 the contrary, a more respectful son than ever. This 
 respect increased ; and as regent he gave his mother a 
 position equal to that of his wife. When Madame de 
 Berri, his much-loved daughter, asked her father for a 
 company of guards, he granted her request, but ordered 
 at the same time that a similar company should be given 
 to his mother. 
 
 Madame held thus a high position, and if in spite of 
 that position she had no political influence, the reason 
 was that the regent made it a principle of action never 
 to allow women to meddle with State affairs. It may be 
 also that Philippe II., Regent of France, was more 
 reserved toward his mother than toward his mistresses ; 
 for he knew her epistolary inclinations, and' he had no 
 fancy for seeing his projects made the subjects of the 
 daily correspondence which she kept up with the Princess 
 Wilhelmina Charlotte of Wales, and the Duke Anthony 
 Ulric of Brunswick. In compensation for this reserve 
 he left to her the management of the house and of his 
 daughters, which in her great idleness the Duchesse 
 d'Orleans abandoned willingly to her mother-in-law. In 
 this last particular, however, the poor princess-palatine, 
 if one may believe the memoirs written at the time, was 
 not very successful. Madame de Berri lived publicly 
 with Riom, and Mademoiselle de Valois was secretly the 
 mistress of Richelieu, who, always eluding detection, as 
 if he had the enchanted ring of Gyges, secured admission 
 
228 LE CHEVALIER D'HARMENTAL. 
 
 to her apartments in spite of the guards who watched 
 the doors, in spite of the spies with whom the regent 
 surrounded him, and though more than once Philippe 
 had hidden himself in his daughter's chamber, to watch. 
 
 As to Mademoiselle de Chartres, whose character had as 
 yet seemed much more masculine than feminine, she, in 
 making a man of herself as one may say, had seemed to 
 forget that other men existed. But some days before the 
 time at which we have arrived, being at the opera, and 
 hearing her music-master, Cauchereau, a handsome and' 
 accomplished tenor of the Academie Royal, who, in a love 
 scene, was prolonging a note with great purity of tone and 
 a highly impassioned expression, the young princess, car- 
 ried away by artistic enthusiasm, stretched out her arms 
 and cried aloud, " Ah, my dear Cauchereau ! " This un- 
 expected exclamation had troubled her mother, who imme- 
 diately dismissed the handsome tenor, and putting aside 
 her habitual apathy, had determined to watch over her 
 daughter herself. 
 
 There remained the Princess Louise, who was afterward 
 Queen of Spain, and Mademoiselle Elizabeth, who be- 
 came the Duchesse de Lorraine, but as to them there was 
 nothing said ; either they were really sedate, or else they 
 understood better than their elder sisters how to restrain 
 the sentiments of their hearts, or the accents of passion. 
 
 As soon as the prince saw his mother appear, he sus- 
 pected some new disturbance in the rebellious troop of 
 which she had taken the command, and which gave her 
 such trouble ; but as nothing could make him forget the 
 respect which in public and in private he paid to his 
 mother, he rose on seeing her, and after saluting her, 
 took her by the hand and conducted her to a seat. He 
 himself remained standing. 
 
 " Well, my son," said Madame, with a strong German 
 
THE CONSUL DUILIUS. 229 
 
 accent, " what is this that I hear, and what happened to 
 you last evening 1 " 
 
 "Last evening]" said the regent, recalling his thoughts 
 and questioning himself. 
 
 " Yes," answered the palatine, " last evening, in coming 
 home from Madame de Sabran's." 
 
 " Oh, it is only that 1 " said the prince. 
 
 " What ! ' only that ! ' Your friend Simiane goes about 
 everywhere saying that they wanted to carry you off, and 
 that you escaped only by coming across the roofs, — a sin- 
 gular road, you will confess, for the regent of the king- 
 dom, and a road which your ministers, however devoted 
 to you they may be, probably will decline to take in 
 order to be present at your council." 
 
 " Simiane is a fool, Mother," answered the regent, un- 
 able to keep himself from laughing at his mother's still 
 scolding him as if he were a child. " It was not anybody 
 who wanted to carry me away, but some roisterers who 
 had been drinking at the cabarets near the Barriere des 
 Sergens, and had come to make a row in the Rue des 
 Bons-Enfans. As to the road we followed, we chose it, 
 not for flight, but simply to gain a wager which that 
 drunken Simiane is furious at having lost." 
 
 " My son, my son ! " said the palatine, shaking her 
 head, " you will never believe in danger, and yet you 
 know what your enemies are capable of doing. Believe 
 me, those who calumniate the soul would have few scru- 
 ples about killing the body ; and you know that the 
 Duchesse du Maine has said that the very day when she 
 is quite sure that there is really nothing to be made out of 
 her bastard of a husband, she will demand an audience 
 of you, and drive her dagger into your heart." 
 
 " Bah, my Mother ! " answered the regent, laughing, 
 " have you become a sufficiently good Catholic no longer 
 
230 LE CHEVALIER ti'HARMENTAL. 
 
 to believe in predestination ? I believe in it, as you 
 know. Would you wish me to plague my mind about 
 a danger which has no existence ; or which, if it does 
 exist, has its result already inscribed in the eternal book ] 
 No, Mother, no ; the only use of all these exaggerated 
 precautions is to sadden life. Let tyrants tremble ; but 
 I, who am, according to Saint-Simon, the most good- 
 natured man since Louis le Debonnaire, what have I 
 to fear?" 
 
 "Oh, mon JDieuf nothing, my dear son," said the pala-' 
 tine, taking the hand of the prince, and looking at him 
 with as much maternal tenderness as her small eyes were 
 capable of expressing, — " nothing, if every one knew you 
 as well as I do, and saw you so truly good that you cannot 
 hate even your enemies ; but Henri IV., whom unluckily 
 you resemble a little too much on certain points, was as 
 good, and yet he none the less encountered a Ravaillac. 
 Alas, mein Gott /" continued the princess, mixing up 
 French and German in her agitation, " it is always the 
 best kings that they assassinate ; tyrants take precau- 
 tions, and the poniard never reaches them. You must 
 never go out without a guard ; it is you, and not I, ray 
 son, who require a regiment of soldiers." 
 
 "My Mother," answered the regent, laughing, "will 
 you listen to a story 1 " 
 
 " Yes, certainly, for you relate very prettily." 
 
 " Well, you know that there was in Rome, I forget in 
 what year of the republic, a very brave consul, who had 
 the unfortunate habit shared by Henri IV. and myself, of 
 going out at night. It happened that this consul was 
 sent against the Carthaginians, and having invented an 
 implement of war called a crow, he gained against them 
 the first naval battle in which the Romans had been vic- 
 tors ; so that he returned to Rome, congratulating him* 
 
THE CONSUL DUILIUS. 231 
 
 self beforehand on the increase of fortune which would 
 follow his increase of reputation. He was not deceived; 
 all the population awaited him at the city gates, and con- 
 ducted him in triumph to the capitol, where the senate 
 expected him. 
 
 " The senate announced to him that in reward for his 
 victory they had just voted to bestow on him an honor 
 which must be highly pleasing to him ; and this was that 
 whenever he went out he should be preceded by a musi- 
 cian, who should announce to every one, by playing on 
 the flute, that he was followed by the famous Duilius, 
 the conqueror of the Carthaginians. Duilius, you will 
 understand, my Mother, was at the height of joy at such 
 an honor. He returned home with a proud bearing, and 
 preceded by his flute-player, who played his best, amid 
 the acclamations of the multitude, crying at the top of 
 their voices, ' Long live Duilius ! long live the conqueror 
 of the Carthaginians ! long live the savior of Rome ! ' 
 This was so intoxicating that the poor consul nearly went 
 crazy with joy. Twice during the day he went out, 
 although he had nothing to do in the town, only to 
 enjoy the senatorial privilege, and to hear the triumphal 
 music and the cries which accompanied it. This occu- 
 pation had raised him by the evening into a state of glo- 
 rification such as it is not easy to explain. The evening 
 came. The conqueror had a mistress whom he loved very 
 much, and whom he was eager to see again, — a sort of 
 Madame de Sabran, with the exception that the husband 
 thought proper to be jealous, while ours, as you know, is 
 not so absurd. 
 
 " The consul therefore had his bath, dressed and per- 
 fumed himself w r ith the greatest care, and when eleven 
 o'clock arrived, he set out on tiptoe for the Suburranian 
 Street. But he had reckoned without his host, or rather 
 
232 LE CHEVALIER D'HARMENTAL. 
 
 without his musician. Hardly had he gone four steps, 
 when the flute-player, who was attached to his service by 
 night as well as day, darted from a post on which he had been 
 sitting, and recognizing his consul, took his place in ad- 
 vance and marched on, playing with all his might and main. 
 The consequence of this was that those who were in the 
 streets turned round, those who were at home came to 
 the door, and those who were in bed got up and opened 
 their windows, all repeating in chorus, ' Here is the Con- 
 sul Duilius ! long live Duilius ! long live the conqueror, 
 of the Carthaginians ! long live the savior of Rome ! ' 
 This was highly flattering, but very inopportune. The 
 consul wished to silence his instrumentalist, but he de- 
 clared that the orders he had received from the senate 
 were precise, — not to be quiet a minute ; that he had 
 ten thousand sesterces a year for blowing into his flute, 
 and blow he would as long as he had any breath left. 
 
 "The consul saw that it was useless to argue with 
 a man whose claim was sustained by a decree of the sen- 
 ate, and thereupon betook himself to flight in the hope of 
 escaping from his melodious companion. But the latter 
 adapted his pace to that of the consul with such precision 
 that Duilius succeeded only in getting in advance of the 
 flute-player, so that the consul led, instead of following. 
 He doubled like a hare, leaped like a roebuck, rushed madly 
 forward like a wild boar ; the cursed flute-player did not 
 lose his track for an instant, so that all Rome, not under- 
 standing the object of this nocturnal race, but knowing 
 that it was the victor who was running, came to their 
 windows and doors, and out into the streets, shouting, 
 1 Long live Duilius ! long live the conqueror of the Cartha- 
 ginians ! long live the savior of Rome ! ' The poor great 
 man had one last hope, — that of finding his mistress's 
 house quiet for the night, so that he could slip in at the 
 
THE CONSUL DUILIUS. 233 
 
 door left ajar as she had promised it would be. But, no ; 
 when he arrived at that hospitable and gracious house, at 
 whose door he had so often poured perfumes and hung 
 garlands, he found that its occupants were awake like all 
 the rest ; and at the window was the husband, who, as 
 soon as he saw him, began to cry, ' Long live Duilius ! 
 long live the conqueror of the Carthaginians ! long live the 
 savior of Eome ! ' The hero returned home despairing. 
 
 "The next day he hoped to steal a march on his musi- 
 cian ; but this hope was fallacious. And it was the same 
 the day after, and the following days • so that the consul, 
 seeing that it was impossible to keep his incognito, left 
 for Sicily, where, in his wrath, he beat the Carthaginians 
 again, but this time so unmercifully that every one 
 thought that must be the end of Punic wars. Rome was 
 so enthusiastic that it instituted public celebrations like 
 those on the anniversary of the foundation of the city, 
 and proposed to give the conqueror a triumph even more 
 magnificent than the first. As to the senate, it assembled 
 before the arrival of Duilius, to determine what reward 
 should be conferred upon him. They were all in favor 
 of a public statue, when suddenly they heard shouts of 
 triumph and the sound of a flute. It was the consul, 
 who had freed himself from the triumph, thanks to his 
 haste, but who could not free himself from public grati- 
 tude, thanks to his flute-player. Suspecting that they 
 were preparing for him something new, he came to take 
 part in the deliberations. He found the senate ready to 
 vote, with their balls in their hands. 
 
 "He advanced to the tribune. 'Conscript Fathers,' 
 said he, Ms it not your intention to give me a reward 
 which will be agreeable to me V ' Our intention/ replied 
 the president, ' is to make you the happiest man on earth/ 
 1 Good ! ' said Duilius ; ' will you allow me to ask from 
 
234 LE CHEVALIER D'HARMENTAL. 
 
 you that which I desire most? ' 'Speak ! ' cried all the 
 senators at once. 'And you will confer it on me?' lie 
 inquired, with all the timidity of doubt. 'By Jupiter, 
 we will ! ' answered the president in the name of the 
 assembly. 'Then, Conscript Fathers,' said Duilius, 'if 
 you think that I have deserved well of the country, take 
 away from me, in recompense for this second victory, this 
 cursed flute-player, whom you gave me for the first.' The 
 senate thought the request strange, but they had pledged 
 their word, and at that period promises were made to be 
 fulfilled. The flute-player was allowed to retire on half- 
 pay, and the Consul Duilius, having got rid of his musi- 
 cian, recovered his incognito, and without noise found 
 the door of that little house in the Suburranian Street 
 which one victory had closed against him, and another 
 had reopened." 
 
 "Well," asked the palatine, " what has this story to do 
 with the fear I have of your being assassinated ? " 
 
 " What has it to do with it, Mother? " said the prince, 
 laughing. " If the one musician of the Consul Duilius 
 caused him such disappointment, imagine what would 
 happen to me if I had a regiment of guards ! " 
 
 " Ah, Philippe, Philippe ! " answered the princess, 
 laughing and sighing at the same time, "will you always 
 treat serious matters so lightly ? " 
 
 "No, Mother," said the regent; "and the proof is 
 that as I presume you did not come here solely to read 
 me a lecture on my nocturnal courses, but to speak on 
 business, I am ready to listen to you, and to reply 
 seriously." 
 
 "Yes, you are right," said the princess; "I did come 
 to speak to you of other things. I came to speak of 
 Mademoiselle de Chartres." 
 
 " Yes, of your favorite, Mother ; for it is useless to deny 
 
THE CONSUL DUILIUS. 235 
 
 it, — Louise is your favorite. Cau it be because she does 
 not love her uncles much, whom you do not love at all? " 
 
 " No, it is not that, but I confess it is pleasing to me 
 to see that she has no better opinion of the bastards than 
 I have ; but it is because, except as to beauty, which she 
 has, and I never had, she is exactly what I was at her 
 age, having true boy's tastes, — loving dogs, horses, and 
 cavalcades, handling powder like an artilleryman, and 
 making squibs like a workman. Well, guess what has 
 happened to her." 
 
 " She wants a commission in the guards 1 " 
 
 "No, no; she wants to be a nun." 
 
 " A nun ! Louise ! Impossible ; it must be some 
 prank of her madcap sisters ! " 
 
 " Not at all," replied the palatine ; " there is no joke 
 about it, I assure you." 
 
 " But how the devil has she got this passion for the 
 cloister]" asked the regent, beginning to believe in the 
 truth of what his mother told him, accustomed as he 
 was to the incidents of a period when the most extrav- 
 agant things were always the most probable. 
 
 " Where did she get it 1 " replied Madame ; " ask God 
 or the devil, for it is known only to the one or the other 
 of those two. The day before yesterday she passed with 
 her sister, riding, shooting, laughing, — in fact, I had never 
 seen her so gay ; but in the evening Madame d'Orleans 
 sent for me. I found Mademoiselle de Chartres at her 
 mother's knees, in tears, and begging permission to go 
 and perform her devotions in the Abbey des Chelles. 
 Her mother turned to me, and said, ' What do you think 
 of this, Madame V *I think,' I replied, 'that we can 
 perform our devotions equally well in any place, and that 
 all depends on our own preparations ; ' but hearing my 
 words, Mademoiselle de Chartres redoubled her prayers, 
 
236 LE CHEVALIER D'HARMENTAL. 
 
 and with so much earnestness that I said to her mother, 
 1 Well, my daughter, it is for you to decide.' ' Oh,' re- 
 plied the duchess, ' we cannot prevent this poor child 
 from performing her devotions.' 'Let her go, then,' I 
 replied ; ' and may God grant that she goes with that in- 
 tention ! ' 'I swear to you, Madame,' said Mademoiselle 
 de Chartres, ' that I go for God alone, and that I am in- 
 fluenced by no worldly idea.' Then she embraced us, and 
 yesterday morning at seven o'clock she set out." 
 
 " I know all that, since I was to have taken her there,' 
 replied the regent. "Something, then, has happened 
 since ! " 
 
 " Yes, yesterday evening she sent back the carriage, 
 giving the coachman a letter addressed to you, to her 
 mother, and to me, in which she says that finding in the 
 cloister that tranquillity and peace which she cannot hope 
 for in the world, she does not wish to leave it." 
 
 " And what does her mother say to this fine resolu- 
 tion 1 ?" asked the regent, taking the letter. 
 
 "Her mother ?" replied Madame. "To tell you the 
 truth, I believe her mother is very glad, for she likes 
 convents, and thinks that her daughter will find great 
 happiness in becoming a nun; but I say there is no 
 happiness where there is no vocation." 
 
 The regent read and re-read the letter of Mademoiselle 
 de Chartres, trying to discover in that simple expression 
 of her desire to remain at Chelles the secret causes which 
 had given rise to it. Then after an instant of medita- 
 tion, as deep as if the fate of empires depended on it, 
 "There is some love pique here," said he. "Do you 
 know if Louise loves any one?" 
 
 Madame related to the regent the adventure of the 
 opera and the exclamation of the princess, in her 
 admiration for the handsome tenor. 
 
THE CONSUL DUILIUS. 237 
 
 "Diablef" cried the regent, "and what did you and 
 the Duchesse d'Orleans do in your maternal council?" 
 
 "We showed Cauchereau the door, and forbade the 
 opera to Mademoiselle de Chartres; we could not do 
 less." 
 
 "Well," replied the regent, "there is no need to seek 
 further ; it is all explained. We must cure her at once of 
 this fancy." 
 
 " And how will you do that, my son? " 
 
 " I will go to-day to the Abbey des Chelles and interro- 
 gate Louise. If the thing is but a caprice, I will give it 
 time to pass off. I will appear to adopt her views, and 
 in a year from now, when the time arrives for her to take 
 the veil, she herself will come and beg us to free her from 
 the embarrassments of her position. If, on the contrary, 
 the affair is serious, then it will be different." 
 
 " Mon Dieu I " said Madame, rising, " remember that 
 poor Cauchereau has probably nothing to do with it, 
 and that he is even ignorant of the passion he has 
 inspired." 
 
 " Do not be afraid," replied the prince, laughing at the 
 tragic interpretation which the princess, with her German 
 ideas, had given to his words. " I shall not renew the 
 lamentable history of the lovers of the Paraclete ; Cauche- 
 reau's voice shall neither lose nor gain a single note in 
 this adventure, and we do not treat a princess of the 
 blood in the same manner as a little bourgeoise." 
 
 "But on the other hand," said Madame, almost as 
 much afraid of the regent's real indulgence as of his 
 apparent severity, "no weakness either." 
 
 "My Mother," said the regent, "if she must deceive 
 some one, I would rather it should be her husband than 
 God." And kissing his mother's hand respectfully, he 
 led her to the door : quite scandalized at those lenient 
 
238 LE CHEVALIER D'HARMENTAL. 
 
 customs in the midst of which she lived and died with- 
 out ever succeeding in reconciling herself to them. Then 
 the Due d'Orleans returned to his drawing, humming an 
 air from his opera of "Panthee." 
 
 In crossing the antechamber, Madame saw a little man 
 in great riding-boots coming toward her, his head sunk in 
 the immense collar of a coat lined with fur. When he 
 reached her he poked out of his surtout a little face with 
 a pointed nose and mocking eyes, bearing a resemblance 
 at once to a polecat and a fox. 
 
 " Oh," said the palatine, " it is you, Abbe ? " 
 
 "Myself, your Highness. I have just saved France, — 
 nothing but that." 
 
 " Yes," replied the princess-palatine, " I have heard of 
 such things, and also that in certain maladies poisons are 
 found useful. You should know that, Dubois, — you, an 
 apothecary's son." 
 
 " Madame," replied Dubois, with his habitual insolence, 
 "perhaps I knew it once, but I have forgotten it. As 
 your Highness may remember, I was quite young when I 
 abandoned my father's drugs to take charge of your son's 
 education." 
 
 " No matter, Dubois," said the palatine, laughing. " I 
 am pleased with your industry, and if occasion arises for 
 an embassy to China or Persia, I will ask the regent to 
 appoint you ambassador." 
 
 " And why not to the moon, or to the sun 1 " replied 
 Dubois. " You would be still surer never to see me 
 again." And saluting Madame carelessly after that re- 
 ply, without waiting for her to dismiss him, as etiquette 
 required, he turned on his heel and entered the regent's 
 study without being announced. 
 
THE ABBE* DUBOIS. 239 
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 THE ABBE" DUBOIS. 
 
 All the world knows the story of the Abbe* Dubois's 
 early days ; we need not dwell upon it here. It may 
 be found in the memoirs of the time, and particularly 
 in those of the implacable Saint-Simon. Dubois has 
 not been calumniated, — it was impossible ; but all the 
 evil has been told of him, and not quite all the good. 
 
 There was in his antecedents and in those of Alberoni, 
 his rival, a great resemblance, but genius was on the side 
 of Dubois; and in the long struggle with Spain, which 
 the nature of our subject does not allow us to more than 
 indicate, all the advantage was with the son of the apothe- 
 cary against the son of the gardener. Dubois preceded 
 Figaro, to whom he probably served as type ; but, more 
 fortunate than he, he passed from the office to the salon, 
 and from the salon to the hall of the throne. All these 
 successive promotions were the rewards of various ser- 
 vices, private or public. 
 
 His last negotiation was his masterpiece ; it was more 
 than the ratification of the treaty of Utrecht; it was 
 a treaty more advantageous still for France. The em- 
 peror not only renounced all right to the crown of Spain, 
 as Philip V. had renounced all his to the crown of France, 
 but he entered, with England and Holland, into a league, 
 formed at the same time against Spain on the south and 
 against Sweden and Russia on the north. The division 
 of the five or six great States of Europe was established 
 
240 
 
 by this treaty on so solid and just a basis that after 
 $ hundred years of wars and revolutions all these States, 
 except the Empire, remain nearly in the same situation 
 as at that time. 
 
 On his part, the regent, who was not very fastidious, 
 loved this man, who had educated him, and whose for- 
 tune he had made. The regent appreciated in Dubois 
 the virtues he possessed, and was not too severe on cer- 
 tain vices from which he was not exempt. There was, 
 however, between the regent and Dubois an abyss. The 
 regent's vices and virtues were those of a gentleman, Du- 
 bois's those of a lackey. In vain the regent said to him, 
 with each new favor that he granted, " Dubois, take care ; 
 it is only a livery-coat that I am putting on your back." 
 Dubois, who cared about the gift, and not about the man- 
 ner in which it was given, replied with his apish grimace, 
 " I am your valet, Mouseigneur ; dress me always the 
 same." 
 
 Dubois, however, loved the regent, and was devoted to 
 him. He bore in mind that this powerful hand alone had 
 raised him from the sink in which he had been found, 
 and to which, hated and despised as he was by all, a sign 
 from the master might restore him. He watched, there- 
 fore, with a personal interest the hatreds and plots which 
 might reach the prince ; and more than once, by the aid 
 of a police often better managed than that of the lieuten- 
 ant-general, and which extended, by the help of Madame 
 de Tencin, into the highest aristocracy, and by the help 
 of La Fillon, to the lowest grades of society, he had de- 
 feated conspiracies of which Messire Voyer d'Argenson 
 had not even heard a whisper. 
 
 Therefore the regent, who appreciated the services which 
 Dubois had rendered him, and could still render him, re- 
 ceived the ambassador with open arms. As soon as he 
 
THE ABBE DUBOIS. 241 
 
 saw him, be rose, and contrary to the custom of princes, 
 who generally depreciate the service in order to diminish 
 the reward, " Dubois," said he, joyously, " you are my 
 best friend ; and the treaty of the quadruple alliance will 
 be more profitable to King Louis XV. than all the victo- 
 ries of his ancestor, Louis XIV." 
 
 "Bravo!" said Dubois, "you do me justice, Mon~ 
 seigneur ; but unfortunately every one is not eqMally 
 grateful." 
 
 " Ah, ah ! " said the regent; "have you met my mother? 
 She has just left the room." 
 
 " Precisely ; and she was almost on the point of re- 
 turning to ask you — in view of the excellent success 
 of my embassy — to give me another, to China or to 
 Persia." 
 
 " Well, well, my poor Abbe," replied the prince, laugh- 
 ing, " my mother is full of prejudices, and she will never 
 forgive you for educating her son in the way you did. 
 But don't be troubled ; I need you." 
 
 " And how is his Majesty 1 " asked Dubois, with a smile 
 that betrayed a sinister desire. " He was very poorly 
 when I left." 
 
 " Well, Abbe, very well," answered the prince, gravely. 
 " God will preserve him to us, I hope, for the happiness 
 of France and the shame of our calumniators." 
 
 " And Monseigneur sees him every day as usual 1 " 
 
 "I saw him yesterday, and I even spoke to him of 
 you." 
 
 " Bah ! and what did you tell him ? " 
 
 " I told him that in all probability you had just secured 
 the tranquillity of his reign." 
 
 " And what did the king answer 1 " 
 
 " What did he answer 1 He answered, my friend, that 
 he did not think abbes were so useful." 
 
 16 
 
242 LE CHEVALIER D'HARMENTAL. 
 
 " His Majesty is very witty. And old Villeroy was 
 there, without doubt?" 
 
 "As he always is." 
 
 " With your permission, I must send that old fellow to 
 look for me at the other end of France some fine morning. 
 His insolence to you begins to tire my patience." 
 
 " Leave him alone, Dubois, leave him alone ; every- 
 thing will come in its own time." 
 
 " Even my archbishopric 1 " 
 
 " By the way, what is this new folly 1 " 
 
 " New folly, Monseigneur ! On my honor, nothing can 
 be more serious." 
 
 " What ! that letter from the King of England, which 
 asks me for an archbishopric for you — " 
 
 " Did your Highness not recognize the style 1 " 
 
 " You dictated it, you rascal ! " 
 
 " To Nericault Destouches, who got the king to sign it." 
 
 " And the king signed it like that, without saying 
 anything 1 " 
 
 " Exactly. ' You wish,' said he to our poet, * that a 
 Protestant prince should interfere to make an archbishop 
 in France. The regent will read my recommendation, 
 will laugh at it, and pay no attention to it.' ' Yes, yes, 
 Sire,' replied Destouches, who has more wit than he puts 
 into his verses, ' the regent will laugh at it ; but after 
 laughing at it he will do what your Majesty asks/ " 
 
 " Destouches was mistaken." 
 
 " Destouches never spoke more truly, Monseigneur." 
 
 " You an archbishop ! King George would deserve 
 that, in return, I should point out to him some rascal 
 like you for the archbishopric of York when it becomes 
 vacant." 
 
 "I defy you to find my equal. I know but one 
 man — " 
 
THE ABBE DUBOIS. 243 
 
 11 And who is he ] I should like to know him." 
 
 " Oh, it is useless, he is already placed ; and as his place 
 is good, he would not change it for all the archbishoprics 
 in the world." 
 
 " Insolent ! " 
 
 " With whom are you angry, Monseigneur % " 
 
 " With a fellow who wants to be an archbishop, and 
 who has never yet officiated at the communion table." 
 
 " I shall be all the better prepared." 
 
 " But the subdeaconship, the deaconship, the priest- 
 hood 1 " 
 
 " Bah ! We will find somebody, — some second Jean 
 des Entomeures, who will despatch all that in an hour." 
 
 " I defy you to find him." 
 
 "It is already done." 
 
 "And who is it?" 
 
 " Your first almoner, the Bishop of Nantes, Tressan." 
 
 " The fellow has an answer for everything ! But your 
 marriage 1 " 
 
 (t My marriage ! " 
 
 "Yes, Madame Dubois." 
 
 " Madame Dubois ! Who is that 1 " 
 
 "What, fellow, have you assassinated her?" 
 
 " Monseigneur forgets that it is only three days since 
 he gave her her quarter's pension." 
 
 " And if she should oppose your archbishopric 1 ? " 
 
 " I defy her; she has no proofs." 
 
 " She may get a copy of the marriage certificate." 
 
 " There is no copy without an original." 
 
 " And the original ? " 
 
 "Here it is," said Dubois, drawing from his pocket a 
 little paper, containing a pinch of ashes. 
 
 " What ! and are you not afraid that I shall send you 
 to the galleys]" 
 
244 LE CHEVALIER D'HARMENTAL. 
 
 " If you wish to do so, now is the time, for I hear the 
 lieutenant of police speaking in the antechamber." 
 
 " Who sent for him I " 
 
 " I did." 
 
 "What for?" 
 
 " To give him a scolding." 
 
 " For what reason 1 " 
 
 " You will hear. It is understood then, — I am an 
 archbishop." 
 
 " And have you already chosen your archbishopric ? " 
 
 "Yes, I take Cambrai." 
 
 " Peste ! you are not hard to please 1 " 
 
 " Oh, mon Dieu I it is not for the profit ; it is for the 
 honor of succeeding Fenelon." 
 
 " Shall we have a new Telemachus 1 " 
 
 " Yes, if your Highness will find me a Penelope in the 
 kingdom." 
 
 "Apropos of Penelope, you know that Madame de 
 Sabran — " 
 
 " I know all." 
 
 "Ah, Abbe ; your police, then, is as good as ever?" 
 
 " You shall judge." 
 
 Dubois stretched out his hand, rang the bell, and a 
 messenger appeared. 
 
 " Send the lieutenant-general," said Dubois. 
 
 " But, Abbe, it seems to me that you are giving orders 
 here ! " 
 
 " It is for your good, Monseigneur; allow me." 
 
 " Well, well ! " said the regent ; "one must be indulgent 
 to new-comers." 
 
 Messire Voyer d'Argenson entered. He was as ugly as 
 Dubois, but his ugliness was of a very different kind. 
 He was tall, thick, and heavy ; he wore an immense wig, 
 had great bushy eyebrows, and was invariably taken for 
 
THE ABBE DUBOIS. 245 
 
 the Devil by children who saw him for the first time. 
 But with all this, he was supple, active, skilful, cunning, 
 and acquitted himself of his official functions consci- 
 entiously when not diverted from his nocturnal duties 
 by some attraction of gallantry. 
 
 " Messire d'Argenson," said Dubois, without even 
 leaving the lieutenant-general time to finish his bow, 
 " Monseigneur, who has no secrets from me, has sent for 
 you that you may tell me in what costume he went out 
 last night, in what house he passed the evening, and 
 what happened to him on leaving it. I should not need 
 to ask these questions if I had not just arrived from 
 London ; but you understand that as I travelled post 
 from Calais, I know nothing." 
 
 "But," said D'Argenson, who thought these questions 
 concealed some snare, " did anything extraordinary hap- 
 pen last evening 1 I confess I received no report ; I hope 
 no accident happened to Monseigneur 1 " 
 
 " Oh, no, none ; only Monseigneur, who went out at 
 eight o'clock in the evening, as a French guard, to sup 
 with Madame de Sabran, was nearly carried off on leaving 
 her house." 
 
 "Carried off!" cried D'Argenson, turning pale, while 
 the regent could not restrain a cry of astonishment. 
 " Carried off I and by whom 1 " 
 
 " Ah ! " said Dubois, " that is what we do not know, 
 and what you ought to know, Messire d'Argenson, if you 
 had not passed your time that night at the convent of the 
 Madeleine de Traisnel instead of in the work of the police." 
 
 u What, D'Argenson ! you, a grave magistrate, give such 
 an example ! " said the regent, laughing. " Never mind, 
 I will receive you well if you come, as you have already 
 done in the time of the late king, to bring me at the end 
 of the year a journal of my acts." 
 
246 LE CHEVALIER D'HARMENTAL. 
 
 " Monseigneur," said the lieutenant, stammering, "I 
 hope your Highness does not believe a word of what 
 the Abbe Dubois says." 
 
 " What ! instead of being humiliated by your ignorance, 
 you give me the lie ! Monseigneur, I will take you to 
 D'Argenson's seraglio, — an abbess of twenty-six years, 
 and novices of fifteen ; a boudoir in India chintz, and 
 cells hung with tapestry. Oh, Monsieur le Lieutenant 
 de Police knows how to do things well." 
 
 The regent held his sides, laughing, seeing D'Argenson's 
 disturbed face. 
 
 " But,'* replied the lieutenant of police, trying to bring 
 back the conversation to the less disagreeable though, for 
 him, more humiliating subject, " there is not much merit, 
 Abbe, in your knowing the details of an event which 
 doubtless Monseigneur himself told you." 
 
 " On my honor, D'Argenson," said the regent, " I did 
 not tell him a word of it." 
 
 " Listen, Lieutenant. Is it Monseigneur also who told 
 me the story of the novice of the Faubourg St. Marceau, 
 whom you so nearly carried off over the convent walls % Is 
 it Monseigneur who told me of that house which you 
 have had built under a false name, against the wall of 
 the convent of the Madeleine, so that you can enter at 
 all hours by a door hidden in a closet, and which opens 
 on the sacristy of the chapel, of Saint Mark, your 
 patron 1 No, no ; all that, my dear Lieutenant, is the 
 infancy of the art, and he who only knew this would 
 not, I am sure, be worthy to undo the lacing of your 
 shoes." 
 
 " Listen, Abbe," replied the lieutenant of police, with a 
 grave air ; " if all you have told me about Monseigneur 
 is true, the affair is serious, and I am in the wrong not 
 to know it, if any one does. But there is no time lost ; 
 
THE ABB& DUBOIS. 247 
 
 we will find the culprits and punish them as they 
 deserve." 
 
 " But," said the regent, " you must not attach too 
 much importance to this ; they were probahly some 
 drunken officers who wished to play a joke on one of 
 their comrades." 
 
 " It is a conspiracy, pure and simple, Monseigneur," 
 replied Dubois, "which emanates from the Spanish 
 embassy, passing through the Arsenal to reach the 
 Palais Royal." 
 
 " Again, Dubois 1 " 
 
 " Always, Monseigneur." 
 
 " And you, D'Argenson, what is your opinion 1 " 
 
 " That your enemies are capable of anything, Mon- 
 seigneur ; but we will mar their plots, whatever they 
 may be, — I give you my word." 
 
 At this moment the door opened, and the Due du 
 Maine was announced, who came to attend the council, 
 and whose privilege it was, as prince of the blood, not 
 to be kept waiting. He advanced with that timid and 
 uneasy air which was natural to him, casting a side- 
 glance over the three persons in whose presence he found 
 himself, as though to discover what subject they were 
 discussing at the moment of his arrival. The regent 
 understood his thought. 
 
 " Welcome, my cousin," said he ; " these two bad 
 fellows — whom you know — have just been assuring me 
 that you are conspiring against me." 
 
 The Due du Maine turned as pale as death, and was 
 obliged to lean for support on the crutch-shaped stick 
 which he carried. 
 
 "And I hope, Mouseigneur," he replied in a voice 
 which he vainly endeavored to render firm, " that you 
 did not give ear to such a calumny." 
 
248 LE CHEVALIER D'HARMENTAL. 
 
 " Ob, mon Dieu, no ! " replied the regent, negligently ; 
 "but they are obstinate, and declare that they will take 
 you one day in the act. I put no faith in their story, 
 but at any rate, I give you warning; be on your guard 
 against them, for they are clever fellows, I warrant you." 
 
 The Due du Maine opened his mouth to give utterance 
 to some commonplace excuse, when the door opened again, 
 and the usher announced successively the Due de Bour- 
 bon, the Prince de Conti, the Due de Saint-Simon, the 
 Due de Guiche, captain of the guards, the Due de Noailles,' 
 president of the council of finance, the Due d'Antin, 
 superintendent of ships, the Marechal d'Uxelles, president 
 of the council of foreign affairs, the Bishop of Troyes, the 
 Marquis de Lavrilliere, the Marquis d'Effiat, the Due de 
 Laforce, the Marquis de Torcy, and the marshals De 
 Villeroy, D'Estrees, De Villars, ami De Bezons. 
 
 As these grave personages were gathered together to 
 deliberate upon the treaty of the quadruple alliance 
 brought from London by Dubois, and as the treaty of 
 the quadruple alliance figures only secondarily in this 
 history, our readers will excuse our leaving the sumptu- 
 ous reception-room in the Palais Royal, to lead them 
 back to the attic in the Rue du Temps-Perdu. 
 
THE CONSPIRACY IS RENEWED. 249 
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 THE CONSPIRACY IS RENEWED. 
 
 D'Harmental, after placing his hat and cloak on a chair, 
 his pistols on his table, and his sword under his pillow, 
 threw himself dressed on his bed ; and more happy than 
 Damocles, he slept, though, like Damocles, threatened by 
 a sword which hung over his head by a thread. 
 
 When he awoke it was broad daylight, and as the evem 
 ing before he had forgotten to close his shutters, the first 
 thing he saw was a ray of sunshine playing joyously 
 across his room, tracing from the window to the door 
 a brilliant line of light in which floated a thousand atoms. 
 D'Harmental thought that he had been dreaming when 
 he found himself again calm and tranquil in his little 
 room, so neat and clean, while he might have been at that 
 hour in some gloomy and sombre prison. For a moment 
 he doubted the reality, remembering what had happened 
 the evening before ; but everything was still there, — the 
 red ribbon, the hat and cloak on the chair, the pistols on 
 the table, and the sword under the pillow ; and as a last 
 proof, he himself was still there in the costume of the 
 day before, which he had not taken off for fear of being 
 surprised by some nocturnal visit. 
 
 D'Harmental jumped from his bed. His first look was 
 for his neighbor's window ; it was already open, and he 
 saw Bathilde passing and repassing in her room. He 
 gave his second look to his mirror, which told him that 
 conspiracies agreed with him. Indeed, his face was paler 
 
250 LE CHEVALIER D'HARMENTAL. 
 
 than usual, and therefore more interesting ; his eyes were 
 rather feverish, and therefore more expressive ; so that it 
 was evident that when he had smoothed his hair and 
 arranged his collar and cravat he would be a most in- 
 teresting person to Bathilde. D'Harmental did not say 
 this, even to himself; but the bad instinct which always 
 impels our poor souls to evil whispered these thoughts to 
 him, — vaguely and incompletely, it is true, and yet with 
 so much force that when he went to his toilet he suited 
 his dress to the expression of his face ; that is to say, he 
 dressed himself entirely in black, his hair was arranged 
 with a charming negligence, and he left his waistcoat 
 more than usually open to give place to his shirt-frill, 
 which was adjusted with a grace that was full of coquetry. 
 All this was done without intention and in a preoccupied 
 and careless manner; for D'Harmental, brave as he was, 
 could not help remembering that at any minute he might 
 be arrested ; it was done by instinct, so that when the 
 chevalier gave the last look in the glass before leaving 
 his little dressing-room, he smiled at himself with a mel- 
 ancholy which doubled the charm of his countenance. 
 There was no mistake as to the meaning of this smile, 
 for he went directly to the window and opened it. 
 
 Perhaps Bathilde had also her projects for the moment 
 when her neighbor should reappear. Perhaps she had 
 arranged a defence which should consist in not looking 
 toward him, or in closing her window after a simple recog- 
 nition ; but at the noise her neighbor's window made in 
 opening, all was forgotten, and she ran to the window, 
 crying out, " Ah, there you are ! Mori Dieu, Monsieur, 
 how anxious you have made me ! " 
 
 This exclamation was ten times more than D'Harmen- 
 tal had hoped for. If he, on his part, had prepared some 
 well-turned and eloquent phrases, they were all forgotten, * 
 
THE CONSPIRACY IS RENEWED. 251 
 
 and clasping his hands, " Bathilde ! Bathilde ! " he cried, 
 " you are, then, as good as you are beautiful ! " 
 
 " Why good ] " asked Bathilde. " Did you not tell me 
 that if I was an orphan, you also were without parents 1 
 Did you not say that I was your sister, and you were my 
 brother 1 " 
 
 "Then, Bathilde, you prayed for me 1 ?" 
 
 " All night," replied the young girl, blushing. 
 
 " And I thanked chance for having saved me, when I 
 owed all to an anger's prayers ! " 
 
 " The danger is then past 1 " cried Bathilde, eagerly. 
 
 "The night was dark and gloomy," replied D'Har- 
 mental. " This morning, however, I was awakened by 
 a ray of sunshine, which, however, a cloud may again 
 conceal. So it is with the danger I have incurred; it 
 has passed away to give place to a great happiness, — 
 that of knowing you have thought of me ; yet it may 
 return. Ah," he continued, hearing steps on the stair- 
 case, " there it is, perhaps, coming to knock on my door." 
 
 At that moment, indeed, some one knocked three times 
 on the chevalier's door. 
 
 " Who is there 1 " asked D'Harmental from the win- 
 dow, in a voice which, in spite of all his firmness, be- 
 trayed some emotion. 
 
 " A friend," answered a voice. 
 
 " Well 1 " asked Bathilde, with anxiety. 
 
 " Thanks to you, God still continues to protect me ; it 
 is a friend who knocks. Once again, thanks, Bathilde." 
 And the chevalier closed his window, sending the young 
 girl a last salute which was very like a kiss ; then he 
 opened the door to admit the Abbe* Brigaud, who, be- 
 ginning to be impatient, had knocked again. 
 
 " Well," said the abbe, on whose face it was impossible 
 to see the smallest change, " what has happened, then, 
 
252 LE CHEVALIER D'HARMENTAL. 
 
 my dear pupil, that you are shut in thus by bolts and 
 bars 1 Is it as a foretaste of the Bastille ] " 
 
 " Holloa, Abbe ! " said D'Harmental, jovially, as if to 
 contend with the abbe in indifference to the dangers that 
 surrounded them, " no jokes of that sort, I beg ; they 
 might bring misfortune." 
 
 " But look ! look ! " said Brigaud, looking around ; 
 " would not any one suppose that a conspirator lived 
 here 1 Pistols on the table, a sword on the pillow, and 
 a hat and cloak on the chair. Ah, my dear pupil, you 
 are in disorder here, it appears to me. Come, put all this 
 to rights, that I may not be able to perceive, when I 
 make you my paternal visit, what is done here when 
 I am not present." 
 
 D'Harmental obeyed, admiring in this man of the 
 Church the sang-froid which he himself, a man of the 
 sword, found it difficult to obtain. 
 
 " Very good," said Brigaud, watching him. " And this 
 shoulder-knot which you have forgotten, and which was 
 never made for you (for it dates from the time when 
 you were in jackets), put it away too. Who knows 1 — 
 you may want it." 
 
 "And what for, Abbe ?" asked D'Harmental, laughing; 
 "to wear at the regent's levee?" 
 
 " Oh, no, but for a signal to some good fellow who is 
 passing. Come, put it away." 
 
 "My dear Abbe," said D'Harmental, "if you are not 
 the Devil in person, you are at least one of his most inti- 
 mate acquaintances." 
 
 " Oh, no ! I am a poor fellow who goes his own quiet 
 way, and who, as he goes, looks high and low, right and 
 left, — that is all. Look, there is a ray of spring, the 
 first, which knocks humbly at your window, and you do 
 not open to it ; one would suppose you were afraid of 
 
THE CONSPIRACY IS RENEWED. 253 
 
 being seen. Ah, pardon ! I did not know that when 
 your window is opened, another must close." 
 
 " My dear Abbe, you are full of wit," replied D'Har- 
 mental, " but terribly indiscreet ; so much so, that if you 
 were a musketeer instead of an abbe, I should seek a 
 quarrel with you." 
 
 "A quarrel ! And why the devil would you quarrel, 
 my dear fellow 1 Because I wish to open you a path to 
 glory, fortune, and perhaps love 1 ? Ah, that would be 
 monstrous ingratitude ! " 
 
 " Well, let us be friends, Abbe," said D'Harmental, 
 offering his hand; "and I shall not be sorry to have 
 some news." 
 
 "Of what?" 
 
 " How do I know 1 Of the Eue des Bons-Enfans, 
 where there has been a great deal going on, I believe ; 
 of the Arsenal, where, I understand, Madame du Maine 
 has given a soiree ; and even of the regent, who, if I may 
 trust a dream T had, came back to the Palais Royal very 
 late and rather agitated." 
 
 "All has gone well. The disturbance in the Rue des 
 Bons-Enfans, if there was one, has quite passed by, and 
 the street is still this morning ; Madame du Maine has as 
 much gratitude for those whom important affairs kept 
 away from the Arsenal as she has contempt, I am sure, 
 for those who were there; finally, the regent, dreaming 
 last night, as usual, that he was King of France, has 
 already forgotten that he almost became a prisoner of 
 the King of Spain. Now we must begin again." 
 
 "Ah, pardon, Abbe," said D'Harmental; "but, with 
 your permission, it is the turn of the others. I shall not 
 be sorry to rest a little myself." 
 
 " Ah, that goes badly with the news I bring you." 
 
 "What news?" 
 
254 LE CHEVALIER D'HARMENTAL. 
 
 " It was decided last night that you should leave for 
 Brittany this morning." 
 
 " For Brittany ! And what to do there % " 
 
 "You will know when you are there." 
 
 " And if I do not wish to go 1 " 
 
 " You will reflect, and go just the same." 
 
 " And on what shall I reflect 1 " 
 
 " That it would be the act of a madman to interrupt an 
 enterprise near its end for a love only at its beginning, — 
 to abandon the interests of a princess of the blood to gaiii 
 the good graces of a grisette." 
 
 " Abbe ! " said D'Harmental. 
 
 " Oh, we must not get angry, my dear Chevalier ; we 
 must reason. You engaged voluntarily in the affair we 
 have in hand, and you promised to aid us in it. Would 
 it be loyal to abandon us now for a repulse 1 No, no, my 
 dear pupil ; you must have a little more connection in 
 your ideas if you mix in a conspiracy." 
 
 " It is just because I have connection in my ideas," re- 
 plied D'Harmental, "that this time, as at first, before 
 undertaking anything new, I wish to know what it is. 
 I offered myself to be the arm, it is true ; but before 
 striking, the arm must know what the head has decided. 
 I risk my liberty ; I risk my life ; I risk something per- 
 haps dearer to me still. I will risk all this in my own 
 manner, with my eyes open, and not closed. Tell me 
 first what I am to do in Brittany, and then — well, per- 
 haps I will go." 
 
 " Your orders are that you should go to Rennes. There 
 you will unseal this letter, and find your instructions." 
 
 " My orders ! my instructions ! " 
 
 " Are not these the terms which a general uses to his 
 officers 1 And are they in the habit of disputing the com- 
 mands they receive 1 " 
 
THE CONSPIRACY IS RENEWED. 255 
 
 " Not when they are in the service ; but you know I 
 am in it no longer." 
 
 "It is true. I forgot to tell you that you have re- 
 entered it." 
 
 "I?" 
 
 "Yes, you. I have your commission in my pocket." 
 And Brigaud drew from his pocket a parchment, which 
 he presented to D'Harmental, who unfolded it slowly, 
 questioning Brigaud with his looks. 
 
 "A commission I" cried the chevalier; "a commission 
 as colonel in one of the four regiments of carabineers ! 
 Whence comes this commission'?" 
 
 " Look at the signature, pardieu ! " 
 
 " Louis- Auguste ! Monsieur le Due du Maine ! " 
 
 " Well, what is there astonishing in that ] As grand 
 master of artillery, he has the disposal of twelve regi- 
 ments. He gives you one of them to replace that which 
 was taken from you, and as your general, he sends you 
 on a mission. Is it customary for soldiers in such a case 
 to refuse the honor their chief does them in thinking of 
 them % I am a churchman, and do not know." 
 
 "Xo, no, my dear Abbe. It is, on the contrary, the 
 duty of every officer of the king to obey his chief." 
 
 " Without considering," replied Brigaud, carelessly, 
 " that in case the conspiracy failed, you would only have 
 obeyed orders, and might throw the whole responsibility 
 of your actions on another." 
 
 " Abbe ! " cried D'Harmental a second time. 
 
 " Well, if you do not go, I shall make you feel the spur." 
 
 "Yes, I am going. Excuse me; but there are some 
 moments when I am half mad. I am now at the orders 
 of Monsieur du Maine, or rather of Madame. May I not 
 see her before I go, to fall at her feet and tell her that I 
 am ready to sacrifice my life at a word from her]" 
 
256 LE CHEVALIER D'HARMENTAL. 
 
 " There, now you are going into the opposite extreme. 
 But no, you must not die ; you must live, — live to tri- 
 umph over our enemies, and wear a beautiful uniform, 
 with which you will turn all the women's heads." 
 
 " Oh, my dear Brigaud, there is but one I wish to 
 please." 
 
 "Well, you shall please her first, and the others 
 afterward." 
 
 " When must I go V ' 
 
 " This instant." 
 
 " You will give me half an hour? " 
 
 " Not a second." 
 
 " But I have not breakfasted." 
 
 " You shall come and breakfast with me." 
 
 " I have only two or three thousand francs here, and 
 that is not enough." 
 
 " You will find a year's pay in your carriage." 
 
 " And clothes V 
 
 "Your trunks are full. Had I not your measure? 
 You will not be discontented with my tailor." 
 
 " But at least, Abbe, tell me when I may return." 
 
 " In six weeks to a day, the Duchesse du Maine will 
 expect you at Sceaux." 
 
 " But at least you will permit me to write a couple of 
 lines." 
 
 "Well, I will not be too exacting." 
 
 The chevalier sat down and wrote, — 
 
 Dear Bathilde, — To-day it is more than a danger which 
 threatens me ; it is a misfortune which overtakes me. I am 
 forced to leave this instant, without seeing you, without bid- 
 ding you adieu. I shall be six weeks absent. In the name 
 of Heaven, Bathilde, do not forget him who will not pass an 
 hour without thinking of you 1 
 
 Raoul. 
 
THE CONSPIRACY IS RENEWED. 257 
 
 This letter written, folded, and sealed, the chevalier rose 
 and went to the window ; but as we have said, that of his 
 neighbor was closed when Brigaud appeared. There was 
 then no way of sending to Bathilde the despatch destined 
 for her. D'Harmental made an impatient gesture. At 
 this moment they heard a scratching at the door. The 
 abbe opened it, and Mirza, who, guided by her instinct 
 and her greediness, had found her way to the giver of the 
 bonbons, appeared on the threshold and entered the 
 room, making lively demonstrations of joy. 
 
 " Well," said Brigaud, " who shall say God is not good 
 to lovers 1 You wanted a messenger, and here is one." 
 
 "Abbe, Abbe," said D'Harmental, shaking his head, 
 " do not enter into my secrets before I wish it." 
 
 " Oh;" replied Brigaud, " a confessor, you know, is an 
 abyss." 
 
 " Then not a word will pass your lips ? " 
 
 " On my honor, Chevalier." 
 
 D'Harmental tied the letter to Mirza's neck, and gave her 
 a piece of sugar as a reward for the commission she was 
 about to accomplish ; and half sad at having lost his 
 beautiful neighbor for six weeks, half glad at having re- 
 gained his beautiful uniform, he took his money, put 
 his pistols into his pockets, fastened on his sword, took 
 his hat and cloak, and followed the Abbe* Brigaud. 
 
 17 
 
258 LE CHEVALIER D'HARMENTAL. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 THE ORDER OF THE HONEY-BEE. 
 
 At the appointed day and hour, — that is to say, six weeks 
 after his departure from the capital, and at four o'clock in 
 the afternoon, — D'Harmental, returning from Brittany, 
 entered the courtyard of the Palace of Sceaux, with his 
 post-horses going at full gallop. Servants in full livery 
 waited on the doorstep, and everything announced prepa- 
 rations for a fete. D'Harmental entered, crossed the hall, 
 and found himself in a large room, where about twenty 
 persons were assembled, standing in groups talking, while 
 waiting for the mistress of the house. 
 
 There were, among others, the Comte de Laval, the 
 Marquis de Pompadour, the poet Saint-Genest, the old 
 Abbe de Chaulieu, Saint-Aulaire, Madame de Rohan, 
 Madame de Croissy, Madame de Charost, and Madame 
 de Brissac. 
 
 D'Harmental went straight to the Marquis de Pompa- 
 dour, the member of this noble and intelligent assembly 
 with whom he was best acquainted. They shook hands. 
 Then D'Harmental, drawing him aside, said, "My dear 
 Marquis, can you tell me how it is that where I expected 
 to find only a dull political assembly I find preparations 
 for a fate?" 
 
 " Faith, I know nothing about it, my dear Chevalier," 
 replied Pompadour ; "and I am as astonished as you are. 
 I have just returned from Normandy myself." 
 
 " Ah ! you also have just arrived 1 " 
 
THE ORDER OF THE HONEY-BEE. 259 
 
 " This instant. I asked the same question of Laval ; 
 but he has just arrived from Switzerland, and knows no 
 more than we do." 
 
 At this moment the Baron de Valef was announced. 
 
 " Ah, pardieu / now we shall know," continued Pompa- 
 dour. " Valef is so intimate with the duchess he will be 
 able to tell us." 
 
 Valef, recognizing them, came toward them. D'Har- 
 mental and Valef had not seen each other since the day 
 of the duel with which this history opened, so that they 
 met with pleasure; then after exchanging compliments, 
 "My dear Valef," said D'Harmental, "can you tell me 
 what is the meaning of this great assembly, when I ex- 
 pected to find only a select committee 1" 
 
 " Faith, I know nothing about it," said Valef; "I have 
 just come from Madrid." 
 
 "Every one has just arrived from somewhere," said 
 Pompadour, laughing. " Ah, here is Malezieux ! I hope 
 he has been no farther than Dombes or Chatenay ; and 
 since, in any case, he must have returned by way of 
 Madame du Maine's chamber, we shall have some news 
 at last." 
 
 At these words Pompadour made a sign to Malezieux, 
 but the worthy chancellor was so gallant that before obey- 
 ing it he must acquit himself of his duty toward the 
 ladies. After he had bowed to them, he came toward the 
 group formed by Pompadour, D'Harmental, and Valef. 
 
 " Come, my dear Malezieux," said Pompadour, " we are 
 waiting for you most impatiently. We have just arrived 
 from the four quarters of the globe, it appears, — Valef 
 from the south, D'Harmental from the west, Laval from 
 the east, I from the north, you from I don't know where ; 
 so that we confess that we are very curious to know what 
 we are expected to do here at Sceaux." 
 
260 LE CHEVALIER D'HARMENTAL. ' 
 
 " You have come to assist at a great solemnity, — at 
 the reception of a new knight of the Order of the Honey- 
 Bee." 
 
 " Peste /" said D'Harmental, a little piqued that they 
 should not have left him time to go to the Rue du Temps- 
 Perdu before coming to Sceaux ; "I understand now why 
 Madame du Maine told us to be so exact to the ren- 
 dezvous. As to myself, I am very grateful to her 
 Highness." 
 
 "First of all, you must know, young man," interrupted 
 Malezieux, " that there is no Madame du Maine nor High- 
 ness in the question. There is only the beautiful fairy 
 Ludovise, the queen of the Bees, whom every one must 
 obey blindly. Now, our queen is all-wise as well as all- 
 powerful ; and when you know who is the knight we are 
 to receive, you will not regret your diligence." 
 
 " And who is it 1 " asked Valef, who, arriving from the 
 greatest distance, was naturally the most anxious to know 
 why he had been summoned home. 
 
 " His Excellency the Prince de Cellamare." 
 
 '•'Ah," said Pompadour, "I begin to understand." 
 
 "And I," said Valef. 
 
 " And I," said D'Harmental. 
 
 "Very well," said Malezieux, smiling; " and before the 
 end of the evening you will understand still better ; 
 meanwhile, do not try to see further. It is not the 
 first time you have entered with your eyes bandaged, is 
 it, Monsieur d'Harmental V 
 
 Malezieux then advanced toward a little man with 
 a flat face, flowing hair, and a discontented expression, 
 who seemed quite embarrassed at finding himself in so 
 noble company, and whom D'Harmental saw then for 
 the first time. He therefore asked Pompadour who that 
 little man was. Pompadour replied that it was the poet 
 
THE ORDER OF THE HONEY-BEE. 261 
 
 Lagrange-Chancel. The young men looked at the new- 
 comer with a curiosity mixed with disgust ; then turning 
 away, and leaving Pompadour to advance toward the Car- 
 dinal de Polignac, who entered at this moment, they went 
 into the embrasure of a window to talk over the occur- 
 rences of the evening. 
 
 The Order of the Honey-Bee had been founded by 
 Madame du Maine, in allusion to the motto printed in 
 Tasso's " Aminta," and which she had adopted on the oc- 
 casion of her marriage, " Piccola si, ma fa puo gravi le 
 ferite," — a motto which Malezieux, in the constancy of 
 his poetical devotion to the granddaughter of the great 
 Cond6, had translated as follows : — 
 
 " The bee, though very small, 
 
 Can do great things. 
 Respect its fatal thrust ; 
 
 Avoid its stings. 
 Flee, if you can, the darts 
 
 That in its body lie ; 
 It stings and takes to wing, — 
 
 It is a cunning fly." 
 
 This order had, like others, its decorations, its officers, 
 and its grand-master. The decoration was a medal, repre- 
 senting on one side a hive, and on the other the queen- 
 bee ; it was hung by a lemon-colored ribbon, and was 
 worn by every knight whenever he came to Sceaux. The 
 officers were Malezieux, Saint- Aulaire, the Abbe de Chau- 
 lieu, and Saint-Genest. Madame du Maine was grand- 
 master. 
 
 It was composed of thirty -nine members, and could not 
 exceed this number. The death of Monsieur de Nevers 
 had left a vacancy, which was to be filled by the nomina- 
 tion of the Prince de Cellamare. The fact was that 
 Madame du Maine had thought it safer to cover this 
 
262 LE CHEVALIER D'HARMENTAL. 
 
 political meeting with a frivolous pretext, feeling sure 
 that a fete in the gardens at Sceaux would appear 
 less suspicious in the eyes of Dubois and Messire 
 Voyer d'Argenson than an assembly at the Arsenal. 
 And therefore, as will be seen, nothing had been 
 forgotten to give its old splendor to the Order of the 
 Honey-Bee. 
 
 At four o'clock precisely, the time fixed for the cere- 
 mony, the doors of the salon were opened, and in a gal- 
 lery hung with crimson satin, which was spangled with 
 silver bees, the beautiful fairy Ludovise appeared, seated 
 on a throne raised on three steps. Her small stature and 
 the delicacy of her features, even more than the golden 
 wand in her hand, gave her the appearance of the aerial 
 being whose name she had assumed. She made a gesture 
 with her hand, and all her court, passing from the salon 
 into the gallery, arranged themselves in a half-circle round 
 her throne, on the steps of which the dignitaries of the 
 order placed themselves. 
 
 "When every one had taken his place, a side-door was 
 opened, and Bessac, an ensign in the guards of Monsieur 
 du Maine, entered, wearing the costume of a herald, — . 
 a cherry-colored robe, adorned with silver-bees, and a hel- 
 met in the form of a hive, — and announced in a loud 
 voice, " His Excellency the Prince de Cellamare." 
 
 The prince entered, advanced gravely toward the queen 
 of the Bees, bent one knee upon the first step of the 
 throne, and waited. 1 
 
 " Prince de Samarcand," said the herald, " give atten- 
 tive ear to the rules of the order which the great fairy 
 
 1 We need not inform our readers that these details are entirely his- 
 toric, and that we neither invent nor imitate ; they are copied as they 
 stand, not from u Le Malade Imaginaire," nor from "Le Bourgeois 
 Gentilhomme*" but from "Les Divertissements de Sceaux." 
 
THE ORDER OF THE HONEY-BEE. 2G3 
 
 Ludovise deigns to confer on you, and consider well what 
 you are about to do." 
 
 The prince bowed, to indicate that he understood all 
 the importance of the engagements he was about to 
 undertake. 
 
 The herald continued : — 
 
 "Article First You promise and swear inviolable fidel- 
 ity and blind obedience to the perpetual dictatress of the 
 incomparable Order of the Honey-Bee. Swear by the 
 sacred Mount Hymettus." 
 
 At that moment music was heard issuing from a hidden 
 source, and invisible musicians chanted : — 
 
 " Swear, nobleman of Samarcand ; 
 Swear, worthy son of the Grand Khan." 
 
 " I swear it by the sacred Mount Hymettus," said the 
 prince. 
 
 Then the choir responded, and the voices of all present 
 joined with it in singing : — 
 
 " II principe di Samarcand, 
 II digno figlio del Gran' Khan, 
 Ha giurato : 
 Sia ricevuto." 
 
 After this refrain had been sung three times, the herald 
 resumed : — 
 
 " Article Second. You promise and swear to be present 
 at the enchanted palace of Sceaux, headquarters of the 
 Order of the Honey-Bee, whenever there shall be a session 
 of the chapter, — leaving all other affairs, and not seeking 
 to be excused on any trivial pretext, such as gout, excess 
 of phlegm, or Burgundy itch. 1 
 
 1 With all our researches we have been able to discover neither the 
 cause nor the effect of this disease. , 
 
264 LE CHEVALIER D'HARMENTAL. 
 
 The choir sang : — 
 
 " Swear, prince of Samarcand ; 
 Swear, worthy son of the Grand Khan." 
 
 " I swear it by the sacred Mount Hymettus," said the 
 prince. 
 
 The herald continued : — 
 
 "Article Third. You promise and swear to learn all 
 contra-dances of every kind, and to dance them on all oc- 
 casions, especially on dog-days, and not to stop dancing,' 
 unless so ordered, till the perspiration comes through your 
 clothes and foam stands on your lips." 
 
 " Swear, prince of Samarcand ; 
 Swear, worthy son of the Grand Khan." 
 
 " I swear it by the sacred Mount Hymettus." 
 ° Article Fourth. You promise and swear to scale gal- 
 lantly all hay-stacks, however high they may be, and not 
 to be checked by fear of falls, however frightful." 
 
 " Swear, prince of Samarcand ; 
 Swear, worthy son of the Grand Khan." 
 
 " I swear it by the sacred Mount Hymettus." 
 " Article Fifth. You promise and swear to take under 
 your protection honey-bees of every kind, to do no harm 
 to any one of them, and bravely to allow them to sting 
 you without brushing them away, whatever part of your 
 person they may attack." 
 
 " Swear, prince of Samarcand ; 
 Swear, worthy son of the Grand Khan. " 
 
 " I swear it by the sacred Mount Hymettus." 
 " Article Sixth. You promise and swear to respect the 
 chief work of honey-bees, and following the example of 
 
THE ORDER OF THE HONEY-BEE. 265 
 
 our grand dictatress, to hold in horror the profane use 
 made of it by apothecaries, even though you should be 
 bursting with repletion." 
 
 " Swear, prince of Samarcand ; 
 Swear, worthy son of the Grand Khan." 
 
 " I swear it by the sacred Mount Hymettus." 
 " Article Seventh and Last. You promise and swear 
 carefully to keep the glorious badge of your dignity, and 
 never to appear before your dictatress without having on 
 your side the medal with which she is about to honor 
 you." 
 
 " Swear, prince of Samarcand ; 
 Swear, worthy son of the Grand Khan." 
 
 " I swear it by the sacred Mount Hymettus." 
 As soon as this last vow was sworn to, all joined in 
 singing : — 
 
 "II principe di Samarcand, 
 II digno figlio del Gran' Khan, 
 Ha giurato ; 
 Sia ricevuto. " 
 
 The fairy Ludovise then rose, and taking from the 
 hands of Malezieux the medal, attached to a lemon-col- 
 ored ribbon, she made a sign to the prince to approach, 
 and repeated the following lines, the merit of which was 
 enhanced by the significance of the situation : — 
 
 "Worthy envoy of a grand monarch, 
 Receive from me the glorious mark 
 Of the order promised you. 
 
 Thessandre, be informed by me 
 That, numbered now among my friends, 
 
 You are made a knight of the Honey- Bee." 
 
 The prince kneeled, and the fairy Ludovise passed the 
 
266 LE CHEVALIER D'HARMENTAL. 
 
 ribbon around his neck. At the same moment all began 
 to sing : — 
 
 "Viva sempre, viva, et in onore cresca 
 II novo cavaliere della Mosca." 
 
 Two folding-doors were then thrown open, disclosing to 
 view a magnificent supper, served in a hall splendidly 
 illuminated. 
 
 The new knight of the Bee offered his hand to the die- 
 tatress, the fairy Ludovise, and they moved toward the 
 supper-room, followed by the other guests. But at the 
 door they were stopped by a beautiful child, in the guise 
 of Love, who held in his hand a glass globe, containing 
 a small roll of paper for every guest. It was a lottery of a 
 novel kind, — a worthy sequel to the ceremony we have 
 described. 
 
 Among the tickets in this lottery there were ten on 
 which were written the words, "Song," "Madrigal," 
 " Epigram," " Impromptu," etc. Those to whom these 
 tickets fell were expected to acquit themselves of the 
 obligations thus imposed on them during the repast. 
 The rest were under no obligation except to applaud, 
 to drink, and to eat. 
 
 On seeing this poetic lottery, the four ladies claimed 
 exemption on the score of incompetency; but Madame 
 du Maine declared that no one should be exempt. The 
 ladies, however, were authorized to choose each a col- 
 laborator, who, in exchange, should be entitled to a kiss. 
 It will be seen that nothing could be more pastoral. 
 
 That amendment to the law having been made, the 
 fairy Ludovise first put her little hand into the glass 
 globe and took from it a paper which she unrolled ; it 
 contained the word "Impromptu." 
 
 The others then drew ; but whether by chance or by 
 adroit contrivance the poetical tasks fell almost exclu- 
 
THE ORDER OF THE HONEY-BEE. 267 
 
 sively to Chaulieu, Saint-Genest, Malezieux, Saint-Aulaire, 
 and Lagrange-Chancel. 
 
 Madame de Croissy, Madame de Rohan, and Madame 
 de Brissac drew the other lots and immediately chose for 
 collaborators Malezieux, Saint-Genest, and the Abbe de 
 Chaulieu, who thus found themselves burdened with a 
 double task. 
 
 As to D'Harmental, he had drawn, to his great delight, 
 a blank ticket, which, as we have said, limited his obliga- 
 tions to applauding, drinking, and eating. 
 
 This little operation being concluded, each person took 
 the place at the table designated in advance by a card 
 bearing his name. 
 
268 LE CHEVALIER D'HARMENTAL. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 THE POETS OP THE REGENCY. 
 
 In justice to Madame la Duchesse du Maine it must be 
 said that this famous lottery, which recalled the best 
 days of the Hotel Rambouillet, was not so ridiculous as 
 to a superficial view it might appear. In the first place, 
 trivial verses, sonnets, and epigrams were very much in 
 fashion at that period, whose barrenness they faithfully 
 reflected. That great flame of poetry kindled by Cor- 
 neille and Racine was dying out, and its rays, which had 
 lighted the world, had dwindled to a few feeble sparks, 
 which shone in a social circle, ran through a dozen small 
 assemblies, and then expired. And then there was still 
 another motive for this competition, besides that of fash- 
 ion. Five or six persons only were acquainted with the 
 real purpose of the fete, and it was necessary to fill with 
 trivial amusements the two hours of the repast. 
 
 During the early part of the banquet the guests were, 
 as is usual, cold and silent ; but presently arose the light, 
 buzzing sound which is the prelude to a general conver- 
 sation. The beautiful fairy Ludovise, preoccupied doubt- 
 less with the impromptu which the lottery had assigned 
 to her, and unwilling to encourage the bad example of 
 choosing a collaborator, was silent, and that silence natu- 
 rally cast a shade of gloom upon the banquet. 
 
 Malezieux saw that it was time to pluck up the evil by 
 the roots, and addressing himself to the Duchesse du 
 Maine, "Beautiful fairy Ludovise," said he, "your sub- 
 
THE POETS OF THE REGENCY. 269 
 
 jectg complain bitterly of your silence, to which you have 
 not accustomed them, and have charged me to bear their 
 complaint to the foot of your throne." 
 
 "Alas," said the duchess,, "you see, my dear Chan- 
 cellor, I am like the crow in the fable, who wished to 
 imitate the eagle and carry off a lamb. I am caught by 
 my impromptu and am unable to free myself." 
 
 " Then," replied Malezieux, " permit me, for the first 
 time, to anathematize the laws imposed by you. But you 
 have so accustomed us, beautiful Princess, to the sound 
 of your voice and the charm of your wit that we can- 
 not get along without them. 
 
 " Each word that cometh from thee 
 Is as thrilling as words can be, — 
 A thousand ways sublime. 
 
 Pardon, Princess, if I choose 
 To sing thy praise in rhyme, 
 
 Who withhold'st from us thy prose." 
 
 " My dear Malezieux," cried the duchess, " I place your 
 impromptu to my own account. And now my debt to 
 the company is paid ; I owe no one anything except a 
 kiss to you." 
 
 " Bravo ! " cried all the guests. 
 
 " And now, gentlemen," said the duchess, " from this 
 moment, no more private conversation ; each owes him- 
 self to all. Come, my Apollo," she continued, turn- 
 ing toward Saint-Aulaire, who was conversing in a low 
 tone with Madame de Rohan, " we will begin our inqui- 
 sition with you. Tell us aloud the secret you whispered 
 just now to your beautiful neighbor." 
 
 It appeared that the secret was not of a kind to be 
 repeated aloud; for Madame de Rohan blushed to the 
 whites of her eyes, and made a sign to Saint-Aulaire to 
 be silent. The latter reassured her by a gesture, and then 
 
270 LE CHEVALIER D'HARMENTAL. 
 
 turning toward the duchess, to whom he owed a madrigal, 
 " Madame," said he, replying in his turn, and at the same 
 time acquitting himself of the obligation imposed by the 
 lottery, — 
 
 " The goddess who pleases herself 
 By asking my secret from me, 
 If I were Apollo, would not be my muse ; 
 Till the end of the day she Thetis would be." 
 
 This madrigal, which five years later would have made 
 Saint-Aulaire a member of the Academy, had such success 
 that for some moments no one dared to follow him, and 
 after the applause had ceased, there was silence. The 
 duchess broke the silence by reproaching Laval for not 
 eating. 
 
 "You forget my jaw," said Laval, pointing to the 
 bandage around his chin. 
 
 " We forget your wound ! " replied Madame du Maine, 
 — " a wound received in the defence of the country, and 
 in the service of our illustrious father, Louis XIV. ! You 
 mistake, my dear Laval ; it is the regent who has forgotten 
 it." 
 
 " In any case," said Malezieux, " it seems to me, my 
 dear Count, that a wound so well placed is a reason for 
 pride rather than regret. 
 
 " Mars has struck thee with his thunder, 
 'Mid a thousand scenes of wonder, 
 Worthy of Laval's great name. 
 
 Still thou hast a throat for drinking ; 
 That 's the main thing, to my thinking. 
 
 Be glad that organ 's still the same." 
 
 "Yes," said the Cardinal de Polignac, "but if the 
 present weather continues, my dear Malezieux, Laval's 
 throat runs great risk of not swallowing any wine this 
 year." 
 
THE POETS OF THE REGENCY. 271 
 
 " How is that ? " asked Chaulieu, with anxiety. 
 
 " ' How is that, % f my dear Anacreon. Do you not know 
 what is going on in the sky 1 " 
 
 "Alas," said Chaulieu, turning toward the duchess, 
 "your Eminence is aware that I can no longer see the 
 sky well enough to distinguish the stars ; but I am only 
 the more concerned for what happens there." 
 
 " It happens that my vine-dressers write me from Bur- 
 gundy that everything is burned up by the sun, and that 
 the approaching harvest is ruined if we remain a few days 
 longer without rain." 
 
 " Do you hear, Chaulieu 1 " asked Madame du Maine, 
 laughing. " They want rain, and you have such a horror 
 of water ! Do you hear what his Eminence says 1 " 
 
 " Oh, very true," said Chaulieu ; " but there is a way 
 to harmonize all wishes. 
 
 " Water is hateful to me, my dear; 
 I 'm angry when it comes too near, 
 And shudder like a man deranged. 
 
 And yet, in spite of all my pain, 
 To-day I find my heart is changed, — 
 
 Our vines are crying out for rain. 
 
 " Heaven, give rain with generous hand ; 
 Pour out water o'er the land, 
 Now, alas, dried up all over. 
 
 But when these rains shall come to pass, 
 I '11 do my drinking under cover, 
 
 Lest some should fall into my glass." 
 
 " But we want no rain to-night ! " cried the duchess. 
 " It would derange the entertainment which our good De 
 Launay is at this moment preparing in our gardens." 
 
 "Ah, that explains why our amiable prodigy is not 
 with us," said Pompadour. " She is sacrificing herself 
 for us, and we forget her ! We are ungrateful. To her 
 
272 LE CHEVALIER D ? HARMENTAL. 
 
 health, Chaulieu ! " And Pompadour raised his glass, — 
 a movement immediately imitated by the sexagenarian 
 lover of the future Madame de Staal. 
 
 " One moment ! one moment ! " cried Malezieux, hold- 
 ing out his empty glass to Saint-Genest. " Peste I don't 
 leave me out! 
 
 " I maintain that a solid mind 
 "Will no good in emptiness find. 
 As for me, I scorn and flout it, 
 
 And will fight it at every pass. 
 Since there may be some who doubt it, 
 
 Saint-Genest, fill up my glass." 
 
 Saint-Genest hastened to obey the request of the Chan- 
 cellor of Dombes ; but in replacing the bottle, either by ac- 
 cident or by design he upset a lamp, and put out the light. 
 The duchess, who with watchful eyes observed every- 
 thing that happened, rallied him on his awkwardness. 
 
 Doubtless that was precisely what the good abbe de- 
 sired ; for turning at once toward Madame du Maine, 
 ''Beautiful fairy," he said, "you do wrong to laugh at 
 my awkwardness. What you take for stupidity is simply 
 an act of homage to your beautiful eyes." 
 
 " And how is that, my dear Abbe 1 Homage paid to 
 my eyes, do you say 1 n 
 
 "Yes, noble fairy," continued Saint-Genest; "I have 
 said it, and I will prove it. 
 
 "My muse, severe and impolite, 
 Maintains that so much light at night 
 Is useless in the skies. 
 
 Since, when Aminta lifts her veil, 
 And shows the glory of her eyes, 
 
 All other light turns pale." 
 
 This madrigal, so elegantly turned, would doubtless 
 have been rewarded by the applause which it deserved, 
 
THE POETS OF THE REGENCY. 273 
 
 if at the very moment when Saint-Gen est was uttering 
 the last line, Madame du Maine, in spite of all her efforts 
 to control herself, had not sneezed outrageously, — with 
 so much noise that to Saint-Genest's great disappoint- 
 ment the conclusion of his stanza was lost to the greater 
 portion of the listeners. But in that company of wit- 
 hunters nothing could be lost. What was an annoyance 
 to one was a help to another ; and hardly had the duchess 
 allowed that untimely sneeze to escape, when Malezieux, 
 catching it on the wing, cried out, — 
 
 " Oh, now I am astounded 
 At the noise that just resounded 
 From the beautiful goddess ! 
 Great indeed is the princess, 
 But small the nose that sounded, 
 And so I am astounded ! " 
 
 This last impromptu was of so superior excellence that 
 it imposed a moment's silence on the company before 
 they could descend from the heights of poesy to the com- 
 monplaces of plain prose. 
 
 Meanwhile D'Harmental, availing himself of the free- 
 dom accorded by his blank lottery-ticket, had remained 
 silent, or rather had exchanged with Valef, who sat next 
 to him, a few words, and a few smiles half suppressed. 
 As for the rest, as Madame du Maine had foreseen, not- 
 withstanding the very natural preoccupation of some of 
 the guests, the party as a whole had kept up such an 
 appearance of frivolity that no one could have suspected 
 that this appearance hid the secret windings of a con- 
 spiracy. And therefore, either by force of voluntary 
 effort, or through satisfaction in seeing her ambitious 
 projects progressing so favorably, the beautiful fairy Lu~ 
 dovise had presided at the banquet with wonderful pres- 
 ence of mind, grace, and gayety. And as we have seen, 
 
 18 
 
274 LE CHEVALIER D'HARMENTAL. 
 
 Malezieux, Saint-Aulaire, Chaulieu, and Saint-Genest had 
 seconded her to the best of their ability. 
 
 Meanwhile the time for leaving the table was approach- 
 ing. They could hear, through the closed windows and 
 the partly open doors, vague snatches of music which 
 came in from the garden, intimating that a new order 
 of entertainments awaited the guests. Madame du Maine 
 announced that having expressed to Fontenelle, on the 
 evening before, her intention to observe the rising of the 
 planet Venus, she had received during the day an excel- 
 lent telescope from the author of " Les Mondes," the use 
 of which she offered to the company for making their 
 astronomic studies of that beautiful star. 
 
 This announcement gave Malezieux so fine an oppor- 
 tunity to launch a madrigal that he could not fail to take 
 advantage of it. Since Madame du Maine seemed to 
 apprehend that Venus might have risen already, "Oh, 
 beautiful fairy," said he, " you know better than any one 
 else that on that score we have nothing to fear. 
 
 "For making observations 
 
 All things are in array ; 
 When we leave the hall of feasting 
 
 We shall see Cytherea. 
 Yes, end that long repast, 
 
 Princess incomparable ; 
 Venus will rise at last, 
 
 When you shall leave the table.*' 
 
 Thus Malezieux ended the seance, as he had opened it. 
 All were rising from the table in the midst of the ap- 
 plause, when Lagrange-Chancel, who had not said a word 
 in the whole course of the repast, turned toward the 
 duchess. 
 
 " Pardon, Madame," he said, " I also have a debt to 
 pay; and although no one seems to demand that it be 
 
THE POETS OF THE REGENCY. 275 
 
 paid, I am too conscientious a debtor not to discharge 
 it." 
 
 "Oh, true, my Archilochus," replied the duchess; 
 " have you not a sonnet for us 1 " 
 
 " By no means, Madame," replied Lagrange-Chancel. 
 " Fate has reserved for me an ode ; and fate is very wise, 
 for I know myself that I have but little aptitude for all 
 this poetry of the drawing-room which is so much in 
 vogue at the present day. My muse, you know, Madame, 
 is Nemesis, and my inspiration, instead of descending from 
 heaven, rises up from hell. Be so kind, therefore, Madame 
 la Duchesse, as to ask these ladies and gentlemen to bestow 
 upon me for a moment that attention which since the 
 beginning"of the repast they have given to others." 
 
 Madame du Maine answered only by resuming her seat, 
 and the others immediately followed her example. Then 
 there was a moment's silence, during which the eyes of all 
 the guests were fixed with some anxiety upon this man 
 who himself avowed his muse to be a Fury, and Acheron 
 his Hippocrene. 
 
 Then Lagrange-Chancel rose ; his eye glowed with a 
 threatening light, and a bitter smile curled his lip. 
 With a hollow voice, which harmonized perfectly with 
 the words which fell from his lips, he recited the follow- 
 ing lines, which were destined eventually to be read in 
 the Palais Eoyal, and to draw from the regent tears of 
 indignation, witnessed by Saint-Simon : — 
 
 "You, 1 whose eloquent speech 
 
 Against two tyrants inhuman 
 Once bravely dared to teach 
 
 "War to the Greek and the Roman, 
 Give me your power, that I may pierce 
 The armor of a beast more fierce. 
 
 1 Demosthenes and Cicero. 
 
276 LE CHEVALIER D'HARMENTAL. 
 
 I burn to go where you lead, 
 And will even make the attempt, 
 From all chilling fears exempt, 
 
 Charmed by your glorious deed. 
 
 "He had hardly opened his eyes 
 
 "When — such as to-day he is shown — 
 He filled the air with his cries, 
 
 Because he was kept from the throne. 
 To those detestable ideas, 
 Sprung from the Circes and Medeas, 1 
 
 His mind alone aspires, 
 Thinking by that infernal art 
 To bridge the chasm that apart 
 
 Keeps him from his desires. 
 
 " Ferryman beneath the earth, 
 
 Prepare thyself, without dismay, 
 To pass the shades of royal birth 
 
 Philippe begins to send thy way. 
 Oh, horrors, horrors still pursuing ! 
 Oh, losses ever fresh accruing ! 
 
 Mourned by tears that could not save. 
 So on a wide-flowing river, 
 Whose rapid course goes on forever, 
 
 Wave is followed still by wave. 
 
 "Thus the sons, 2 their father weeping, 8 
 
 By the same hand are robbed of life ; 
 
 The brothers side by side are sleeping ; 
 
 The husband follows then the wife. 4 
 
 Then — fatal blow, that brings the end ! — 
 
 Two sons, 5 on whom our hopes depend, 
 
 1 As may be remembered, the Due d'Orl^ans was an excellent chem- 
 ist. It was principally upon his studies with Humbert in that science 
 that were based the calumnies to which the life of Louis XV. has done 
 justice. 
 
 2 The Due de Bourgogne and the Due de Berri. 
 8 The elder dauphin. 
 
 4 Monsieur le Dauphin, and Madame la Dauphine. 
 6 The sons of the young dauphin. 
 
THE POETS OF THE REGENCY. 277 
 
 The sweeping scythe of Fate pursues. 
 The first of these has joined his race ; 
 The other, 1 with a pallid face, 
 
 Awaits the call none can refuse. 
 
 " King, 2 attended while alive 
 
 With incense and prosperity, 
 Thou wilt not see thyself revive 
 
 In thy three-branched posterity. 
 Thou know'st the author of this deed, 
 And the vile minister to his greed, 3 
 
 "Worthy a prince detested. 
 May both be buried in one grave ! 
 Destroy their lives, and thou wilt save 
 
 The remnant of thy race molested. 
 
 " Pursue this coward 4 prince to death, 
 
 Already by his fears undone ; 
 Let hatred curse his dying breath, 
 
 "Who bears the scorn of every one. 
 Upon his head, weighed down by crimes, 
 Fall Mithridates' lot betimes 
 
 When pressed by Roman bands. 
 And in his last supreme despair 
 May he the fateful poison dare, 
 
 Prepared by his own hands ! " 
 
 It is impossible to describe the effect produced by these 
 lines, following as they did the impromptus of Malezieux, 
 the madrigals of Saint-Aulaire, the songs of Chaulieu. 
 All looked at one another in silence, and as if fright- 
 ened at finding themselves for the first time face to face 
 with those hideous calumnies which until then had lurked 
 in obscurity, and had not ventured out into open day- 
 light. The duchess herself, who had yielded the most 
 
 i Louis XV. 
 
 2 Louis XIV. 
 
 3 Humbert the chemist. 
 
 4 It will not be forgotten that the allusion here is to the hero of 
 Steenkirk, of Nerwinden, and Le>ida. 
 
278 LE CHEVALIER D'HARMENTAL. 
 
 credence to them, had turned pale on seeing that ode, 
 that monstrous hydra, erect in her presence, its six heads 
 filled with gall and venom. The Prince de Cellamare 
 showed his embarrassment, and the Cardinal de Polignac's 
 hand trembled visibly as he rumpled his lace band. 
 
 Thus the poet ended his last strophe in the midst of 
 the same silence which had greeted the first. As Madame 
 du Maine arose, embarrassed by the general reserve, 
 which indicated disapprobation even among the most 
 faithful, the others followed her example and went out' 
 with her into the gardens. 
 
 Upon the steps, D'Harmental, who went out last, acci- 
 dentally jostled against Lagrange-Chancel, who was re- 
 turning to the salon for a handkerchief which Madame 
 du Maine had left behind her. 
 
 " Pardon, Monsieur le Chevalier," said the irritated 
 poet, straightening himself up, and fixing on D'Harmen- 
 tal his two small eyes, yellow with bile, " would you 
 trample upon me, perchance 1 " 
 
 " Yes, Monsieur," replied D'Harmental, looking upon 
 him with contempt from all his height, as he would have 
 looked upon a toad or a viper, — " yes, if I were sure of 
 crushing you." And taking Valef's arm, he went down 
 with him into the gardens. 
 
THE QUEEN OF THE GREENLANDERS. 279 
 
 CHAPTEE XXV. 
 
 THE QUEEN OF THE GREENLANDERS. 
 
 As might have been anticipated from what was said dur- 
 ing the banquet, and also from the kind of entertain- 
 ments which Madame du Maine was wont to give at her 
 country-house in Sceaux, the festivities to which we have 
 introduced our readers were extended beyond the salons 
 into the gardens, where new surprises awaited the 
 guests.- 
 
 These immense gardens, designed by Le Notre for Col- 
 bert, and sold by him to the Due du Maine, had be- 
 come, under the duchess's management, a veritable abode 
 of fairies. Those large rectangular divisions characteristic 
 of French gardens, with their green hedges, their broad 
 avenues of lindens, their yews trimmed to shapes of 
 spirals and pyramids, offered better facilities than the 
 English gardens, with their little clumps of shrubbery, 
 their winding avenues, and limited views, for the mytho- 
 logical fetes which were in vogue under the great king. 
 Those of Sceaux especially, bounded only by a large sheet 
 of water, in the middle of which arose the pavilion of 
 Aurora, — so called because from this pavilion was gen- 
 erally given the signal that night was ended and that it 
 was time to retire, — had, with their tennis-courts and 
 arenas for tournaments and games, an aspect of grandeur 
 truly royal. 
 
 Every one was astonished, on going out upon the steps, 
 to see all those fine trees and graceful hedges linked to- 
 
280 LE CHEVALIER D'HAR MENTAL. 
 
 gether by garlands of light, which changed the night into 
 brilliant day. At the same time delicious music was heard 
 issuing from an invisible source ; then to the sound of this 
 music there was seen approaching through the wide avenue 
 something so strange and unexpected that so soon as the real 
 meaning of the affair was understood, shouts of laughter 
 burst from every side. It was a game of gigantic ninepins 
 which advanced slowly in the middle of the wide avenue, 
 preceded by its nine and accompanied by its ball. When 
 they had arrived within a short distance from the 
 porch, the ninepins arranged themselves gracefully in 
 the usual order, and after bowing before Madame du 
 Maine, — while the ball kept on rolling to her very feet, 
 — began to sing a sad complaint to the effect that until 
 this day the game of ninepins, less fortunate than the 
 games of roundabout, foot-ball, and tennis, had been ex- 
 iled from the gardens of Sceaux, and to ask for a reform 
 of this injustice and that this game should enjoy, in com- 
 mon with its fellow games, the privilege of amusing the 
 noble guests of the beautiful fairy Ludovise. This lament 
 was a cantata for nine voices, accompanied by viols and 
 flutes, interspersed with bass solos sung by the ball with 
 a most original effect. The demand it expressed was 
 seconded by all the guests, and granted by Madame du 
 Maine. Immediately, at a given signal, and as an expres- 
 sion of joy, the ninepins began a ballet, accompanied by 
 so singular tossings of the head and so grotesque motions 
 of the body that the success of the dancers surpassed even 
 that of the singers, and Madame du Maine, in the pleas- 
 ure she derived from the performance, expressed to the 
 game of ninepins her regret at having neglected it so long, 
 and her great pleasure in making its acquaintance, au- 
 thorizing it from this time forth, in virtue of her power 
 as queen of the Bees, to call itself the noble game of nine- 
 
THE QUEEN OF THE GREENLANDERS. 281 
 
 pins, that it might be no longer in any way inferior to its 
 rival, — the noble game of goose. 
 
 As soon as this favor was granted, the pins gave place 
 to new personages, who had just approached through the 
 broad avenue. These personages, seven in number, were 
 entirely covered with furs, which concealed their forms, 
 and shaggy caps, which hid their faces ; they walked 
 slowly, having in their midst a sled drawn by two rein- 
 deer, which indicated that they were a deputation from 
 the polar regions. In fact, it was an embassy which the 
 people of Greenland had sent to the fairy Ludovise. This 
 embassy was led by a chief wearing a long cloak lined 
 with sable, and a fox-skin cap from which three tails were 
 hanging, — one over each shoulder, and the third down 
 the back. Approaching Madame du Maine, the chief 
 bowed, and speaking for the deputation, — 
 
 "Madame," said he, "the Greenlanders having delib- 
 erated, in a general national assembly, upon sending one 
 of their chief men to your Most Serene Highness, I have 
 had the honor to be chosen to place myself at their head and 
 to offer you, in their name, the sovereignty of their States." 
 
 The allusion was so evident, and yet so safe, that a 
 murmur of approbation ran through the whole assembly, 
 and a gracious smile touched the lips of the beautiful 
 fairy Ludovise. The ambassador, visibly encouraged by 
 this reception, continued, — 
 
 " Fame has told us, even in the midst of our snows, in 
 our poor little corner of the world, of the charms, the vir- 
 tues, and the inclinations of your Most Serene Highness. 
 We know that you abhor the sun." 
 
 This allusion was as quickly seized on as the first, for 
 the sun was the regent's device j and as we have said, 
 Madame du Maine was well known for her predilection 
 in favor of night. 
 
282 LE CHEVALIER D'HARMENTAL. 
 
 "Consequently, Madame," continued the ambassador, 
 " as in our geographical position God has blessed us with 
 six months of night and six months of twilight, we come 
 to propose to you to take refuge in our land from the sun 
 which you so much dislike ; and in recompense for that 
 which you leave here, we offer you the title of Queen of 
 the Greenlanders. We are certain that your presence will 
 cause our arid plains to flower, and that the wisdom of 
 your laws will conquer our stubborn spirit, and that, 
 thanks to the gentleness of your reign, we shall renounce ' 
 a liberty less sweet than your rule." 
 
 "But," said Madame du Maine, "it seems to me that 
 the kingdom you offer me is rather distant ; and I confess 
 I do not like long voyages." 
 
 "We have anticipated your reply, Madame," replied 
 the ambassador ; " and thanks to the enchantments of 
 a powerful magician, fearing that, more immovable than 
 Mahomet, you might not wish to go to the mountain, we 
 have arranged that the mountain should come to you. 
 Holloa, genii of the Pole ! " continued the chief, describing 
 some cabalistic circles in the air with his wand, " disclose 
 to all eyes the palace of your new sovereign." 
 
 At this moment fantastic music was heard; the veil 
 which covered the pavilion of Aurora was raised as if by 
 magic, and the water showed the reflection of a light 
 so skilfully shed abroad that it might have been taken 
 for that of the moon. By this light was seen, on an 
 island of ice and at the foot of a snowy peak, the palace 
 of the Queen of the Greenlanders, to which led a bridge 
 so light that it seemed to be made of a floating cloud. 
 Then, in the midst of general acclamation, the ambassador 
 took from the hands of one of his suite a crown, which he 
 placed on the duchess's head, and which she received with 
 as haughty a gesture as though it had been a real crown. 
 
THE QUEEN OF THE GREENLANDERS. 283 
 
 Then, getting into the sledge, she went toward the marine 
 palace ; and while the guards prevented the crowd from 
 following her into her new domain, she crossed the bridge 
 and entered with the seven ambassadors. At the same 
 instant the bridge disappeared, — as if, by an allusion not 
 less transparent than those which had preceded, the skil- 
 ful machinist had wished to separate the past from the 
 future, — and fireworks expressed the joy of the Green- 
 landers at seeing their new sovereign. 
 
 Meanwhile Madame du Maine was introduced by an 
 usher into the most retired part of the palace; and the 
 seven ambassadors having thrown off caps and cloaks, she 
 found herself surrounded by the Prince de Cellamare, Car- 
 dinal Polignac, the Marquis de Pompadour, the Comte de 
 Laval, the Baron de Valef, the Chevalier d'Harmental, and 
 Malezieux. As to the usher, who, after having carefully 
 closed all the doors, came and mixed familiarly with all 
 this noble assembly, he was no other than our old friend 
 the Abbe Brigaud. Everything now began to appear in 
 its real significance ; and the fete, as the ambassadors had 
 done, threw off mask and domino, and turned openly to 
 conspiracy. \ 
 
 " Gentlemen," said the duchess, with her habitual 
 vivacity, " we have not an instant to lose, as too long an 
 absence would be suspicious. Let every one tell quickly 
 what he has done, and we shall know then where we are." 
 
 "Pardon, Madame," said the prince; "but you have 
 spoken to me, as of our party, of a man whom I do not 
 see here, and whom I am distressed not to recognize 
 among us." 
 
 " You mean the Due de Richelieu 1 " replied Madame 
 du Maine. u It is true he promised to come ; he must 
 have been detained by some adventure. We shall have to 
 do without him." 
 
284 
 
 "Yes, certainly," replied the prince, "if he does not 
 come, we must do without him ; but I confess that I deeply 
 regret his absence. The regiment which he commands is 
 at Bayonne, and for that reason might be very useful to 
 us. Give orders, I beg, Madame, that if he comes he is 
 to be admitted directly." 
 
 " Abbe," said Madame du Maine, turning to Brigaud, 
 " you heard ; tell D'Avranches." 
 
 The abbe went out to execute this order. 
 
 "Pardon, Monsieur," said D'Harmental to Malezieux;' 
 "but I thought six weeks ago that the Due de Richelieu 
 positively refused to be one of us." 
 
 " Yes," answered Malezieux, " because he knew that he 
 was intended to take the blue ribbon to the Prince of the 
 Asturias, and he would not quarrel with the regent just 
 when he expected the Golden Fleece as the reward of that 
 embassy. But since then the regent has changed his 
 mind, and on account of the threatened difficulties with 
 Spain has concluded to defer sending the order ; so that 
 the Due de Richelieu, seeing his Golden Fleece put off till 
 the Greek kalends, has come back to us." 
 
 "Your Highness's order has been transmitted to him 
 whom it concerned," said the Abbe Brigaud, returning, 
 " and if Monsieur le Due de Richelieu appears at Sceaux, 
 he will be conducted hither immediately." 
 
 " Well," said the duchess, " now let us go to business. 
 Come, Laval, begin." 
 
 " I, Madame," said Laval, " as you know, have been in 
 Switzerland, where, with the King of Spain's name and 
 money, I raised a regiment in the Grisons. This regi- 
 ment is ready to enter France at any moment, armed and 
 equipped, and waits only the order to march." 
 
 "Very good, my dear Count," said the duchess; "and 
 if you do not think it below a Montmorency to be colonel 
 
THE QUEEN OF THE GREENLANDERS. 285 
 
 of a regiment while waiting for something better, take the 
 command of this one. It is a surer way of getting the 
 Golden Fleece than taking the Saint Esprit into Spain." 
 
 " Madame," said Laval, " it is for you to appoint each 
 one to the place you have reserved for him, and whatever 
 you may appoint will be gratefully accepted by the most 
 humble of your servants." 
 
 " And you, Pompadour," said Madame du Maine, 
 thanking Laval by a gesture of the hand, " what have 
 you done 1 " 
 
 " According to your Highness's instructions," replied 
 the marquis, " I went to Normandy, where I procured 
 the signing of the protest by the nobility. I bring you 
 thirty-eight good signatures " (he drew a paper from 
 his pocket). " Here is the request to the king, and here 
 are the signatures." 
 
 The duchess snatched the paper so quickly that she 
 almost tore it ; and throwing her eyes rapidly over it, 
 "Yes, yes," said she, "you have done well to put them 
 so, without distinction or difference of rank, so that there 
 may be no question of precedence. Guillaume-Alexandre 
 de Vieux-Pont, Pierre-Anne-Marie de la Pailleterie, De 
 Beaufremont, De Latour-Dupin, De Chatillon. Yes, you 
 are right ; these are the best and most faithful names in 
 France. Thanks, Pompadour ; you are a worthy messen- 
 ger. Your skill shall not be forgotten. And you, Cheva- 
 lier 1" she continued, turning to D'Harmental with her 
 irresistible smile. 
 
 "I, Madame," said the chevalier, "according to the 
 orders of your Highness, left for Bretagne, and at Nantes 
 I opened my despatches and became acquainted with my 
 instructions." 
 
 " Well?" asked the duchess, quickly. 
 
 "Well, Madame," replied D'Harmental, " I have been 
 
286 LE CHEVALIER D'HARMENTAL. 
 
 as successful as Messieurs de Laval and de Pompadour. 
 I have the promises of Messieurs de Mont-Louis, de 
 Bonamour, de Pont-Callet, and de Rohan-Soldue. As 
 soon as Spain shows a squadron in sight of the coasts, 
 all Bretagne will rise." 
 
 " You see, Prince ! " cried the duchess, addressing 
 Cellamare with an accent full of ambitious joy, " every- 
 thing favors us." 
 
 " Yes," replied the prince ; " but these four gentlemen, 
 influential as they are, are not all that we must have. 
 There are Laguerche-Saint-Amant, the Bois-Davys, De la 
 Rochefoucault-Gondral, the Decourts, and the D'Erees, 
 whom it would be important to gain." 
 
 " It is done, Prince," said D'Harmental ; " here are 
 their letters," and taking several from his pocket, he 
 opened three of them at random, and read aloud decla- 
 rations of allegiance and promises of support signed by 
 Marquis Decourt, La Rochefoucault-Gondral, and Comte 
 d'Eree. 
 
 " Well, Prince," cried Madame du Maine, " what do 
 you think now 1 Besides these three letters, here is one 
 from Lavauguyon, one from Bois-Davy, one from Fumee. 
 Stay, Chevalier, here is our right hand, — it is that which 
 holds the pen ; let it be a pledge to you that from the day 
 on which its signature will be a royal signature it will 
 have nothing to refuse to you." 
 
 " Thanks, Madame," said D'Harmental, kissing her 
 hand respectfully ; " but you have already given me more 
 than I deserve, and success itself will recompense me so 
 highly, by placing your Highness in your proper position, 
 that from that day I shall have nothing left to desire." 
 
 " And now, Valef, it is your turn," continued the 
 duchess ; " we kept you till the last, for you were the 
 most important. If I understood rightly your signs 
 
THE QUEEN OF THE GREENLANDERS. 287 
 
 during dinner, you are not displeased with their Catholic 
 Majesties." 
 
 " What would your Highness say to a letter written by 
 his Majesty Philip himself?" 
 
 " Oh, it is more than I ever dared to hope for," cried 
 Madame du Maine. 
 
 " Prince," said Valef, passing a paper to Cellamare, 
 "you know his Majesty's writing. Assure her Royal 
 Highness, who does not dare to believe it, that this letter 
 is written entirely by his own hand." 
 
 "Entirely," said Cellamare, bowing ; "entirely, — it is 
 the truth." 
 
 "And to whom is it addressed ?" asked Madame du 
 Maine, taking it from the prince's hands. 
 
 " To King Louis XV., Madame," said Valef. 
 
 " Good ! " said the duchess ; " we will have it presented 
 to his Majesty by the Marechal de Villeroy. Let us see 
 what he says." And she read as rapidly as the obscurity 
 of the writing permitted : 1 — 
 
 The Escurial, March 16, 1718. 
 
 Since Providence has placed me on the throne of Spain, 
 I have never for an instant lost sight of the obligations of 
 my birth. Louis XIV., of eternal memory, is always present 
 to my mind. I seem always to hear that great prince, at the 
 moment of our separation, saying to me, " The Pyrenees exist 
 no longer." Your Majesty is the only descendant of my elder 
 brother, whose loss I feel daily. God has called you to the 
 succession of that great monarchy, whose glory and interests 
 will be precious to me till my death. I can never forget 
 what I owe to your Majesty, to my country, and to the 
 memory of my ancestors. 
 
 My dear Spaniards, who love me tenderly, and who are 
 well assured of my love for them, are not jealous of the senti- 
 
 1 This letter, which may he seen in the archives of foreign affairs, is 
 Hctually in the handwriting of Philip V. 
 
288 LE CHEVALIER D'HARMENTAL. 
 
 ments which I hold for you, and are well assured that our 
 union is the base of public tranquillity. I natter myself that 
 my personal interests are still dear to a nation which has 
 nourished me in its bosom, and that the generous nobility 
 which has shed so much blood to support them will always 
 look with love on a king who feels it an honor to be obliged 
 to them, and to have been born among them. 
 
 " This is addressed to you, gentlemen," said the duchess, 
 interrupting herself, and looking round her; then she con- 
 tinued, impatient to know the rest of the letter : — 
 
 What, then, can your faithful subjects think of a treaty 
 signed against me, or rather against yourself] 
 
 Since your exhausted finances can no longer support the 
 current expenses of peace, it is desired that you should unite 
 with my most mortal enemy, and should make war on me if 
 I do not consent to give up Sicily to the archduke. I will 
 never subscribe to these conditions ; they are insupportable 
 to me, 
 
 I do not enter into the fatal consequences of this alliance. 
 I only beg your Majesty to convoke immediately the States- 
 General of your kingdom to deliberate on an affair of so great 
 consequence. 
 
 " The States-General ! " murmured the Cardinal de 
 Polignac. 
 
 "Well, what does your Eminence say to the States- 
 General 1 " interrupted Madame du Maine, impatiently. 
 " Has this measure the misfortune not to meet with your 
 approbation % " 
 
 " I neither blame nor approve, Madame," replied the 
 cardinal ; "I only remember that the same convocation 
 was made during the League, and that Philip II. came 
 off badly." 
 
 "Men and times are changed, Cardinal," replied the 
 duchess. " We are not in 1594, but in 1718. Philip II. 
 
THE QUEEN OF THE GREENLANDERS. 289 
 
 was Flemish, and Philip V. is French. The same results 
 cannot take place, since the causes are different." And 
 she went on with the letter: — 
 
 I ask this in the name of the blood which unites us, in the 
 name of the great king from whom we have our origin, in 
 the name of your people and of mine. If ever there was 
 a necessity to listen to the voice of the French nation, it is 
 now. It is indispensable to learn from the nation itself what 
 it thinks, — whether it wishes to declare war on us. As I am 
 ready to expose my life to maintain its glory and interests, I 
 hope that you will reply quickly to the propositions I make 
 to you, that the convocation which I propose to you will pre- 
 vent the unfortunate results which threaten us, and that the 
 forces of Spain will be employed only to sustain the greatness 
 of France, and to fight her enemies, as I shall never employ 
 them but to show your Majesty the sincere regard and affec- 
 tion which I cherish toward you. 
 
 " What do you think of that, gentlemen ? Could his 
 Catholic Majesty do more for us?" asked Madame du 
 Maine. 
 
 " He might have joined to this letter an epistle ad- 
 dressed directly to the States-General," answered the Car- 
 dinal de Polignac. "That epistle, if the king had deigned 
 to send it, would have had a great influence on their 
 deliberations." 
 
 " Here it is," said the Prince de Cellamare, taking 
 a paper from his pocket. 
 
 " What, Prince ! " cried the cardinal ; " what do you 
 say?" 
 
 " I say that his Catholic Majesty is of the same opinion 
 as your Eminence, and has sent me this letter, which is 
 the complement of the letter brought to us by the Baron 
 de Valef." 
 
 " Then nothing is wanting ! " cried Madame du Maine. 
 19 
 
290 LE CHEVALIER D'HARMENTAL. 
 
 "We want Bayonne," said the Prince de Cellamare, 
 shaking his head, — "Bayonne, the door of France." 
 
 At this moment D'Avranches entered, announcing the 
 Due de Eichelieu. 
 
 " And now, Prince, there is nothing wanting," said the 
 Marquis de Pompadour, laughing ; " for here is he who 
 has the key to the door." 
 
THE DUC DE RICHELIEU. 291 
 
 CHAPTER XXVI. 
 
 THE DUC DE RICHELIEU. 
 
 " At last ! " cried the duchess, seeing Richelieu enter. 
 " Are you, then, always the same 1 Your friends cannot 
 count on you any more than your mistresses." 
 
 " On the contrary, Madame," said Richelieu, approach- 
 ing the duchess, and kissing her hand with an easy 
 familiarity which indicated that in his eyes there was no 
 difference of rank among women, " for to-day, more than 
 ever, I prove to your Highness that I can reconcile 
 everything." 
 
 " Then you have made a sacrifice for us, Duke % " said 
 Madame du Maine, laughing. 
 
 " Ten thousand times greater than you can imagine. 
 Whom do you think I have left 1 " 
 
 " Madame de Villarsl" asked the duchess. 
 
 " Oh, no ! better than that." 
 
 " Madame de Duras % " 
 
 " No." 
 
 " Madame de Nesle % " 
 
 "Bah!" 
 
 " Madame de Polignac ? Ah, pardon, Cardinal ! " 
 
 " Go on. It does not concern his Eminence." 
 
 "Madame de Soubise, Madame de Gabriant, Madame 
 de Gace* 1 " 
 
 " No, no, no." 
 
 " Mademoiselle de Charolais 1 " 
 
 u I have not seen her since my last trip to the Bastille." 
 
292 LE CHEVALIER D'HARMENTAL. 
 
 " Madame de Berri 1 " 
 
 " You know well that since Riom has taken to beating 
 her she is madly in love with him." 
 
 " Mademoiselle de Valois 1 " 
 
 " Oh, I intend her for my wife when we have suc- 
 ceeded, and I am a Spanish prince. No, Madame ; I 
 have left for your Highness the two most charming 
 grisettes — " v 
 
 " Grisettes ! Ah, fie ! " cried the duchess, with an in- 
 describable disdain ; "I did not think that you descended 
 to such creatures." 
 
 " Creatures ! Two charming women, — Madame Miche- 
 lin and Madame Renaud. Do you not know them ? Ma- 
 dame Michelin, a beautiful blonde ; her husband is a carpet 
 manufacturer; I recommend him to you, Duchess. Ma- 
 dame Eenaud, an adorable brunette, with blue eyes and 
 black lashes, and whose husband is — I don't remember 
 just what — " 
 
 " What Monsieur Michelin is probably," said Pompa- 
 dour, laughing. 
 
 " Pardon, Monsieur le Due," replied Madame du Maine, 
 who had lost all curiosity concerning Richelieu's love ad- 
 ventures as soon as it appeared that they were outside a 
 certain social circle, " may I venture to remind you that 
 we met here on important business 1 " 
 
 " Oh, yes ! we are conspiring, are we not 1 " 
 
 " Had you forgotten it 1 " 
 
 " Faith ! a conspiracy is not one of the gayest things in 
 the world, therefore I forget whenever I can that I am 
 conspiring ; but that is nothing, — whenever it is neces- 
 sary I can come back to it. Now let us see ; how does 
 the conspiracy go on 1 " 
 
 " Here, Duke, look at these letters, and you will know 
 as much as we do." 
 
THE DUC DE RICHELIEU. 293 
 
 " Oh, your Highness must excuse me," said Richelieu ; 
 " but really I do not read even those which are addressed 
 to me, and I have seven or eight hundred in the most 
 charming styles of penmanship, which I am keeping to 
 amuse my old days. Here, Malezieux, you who are clear- 
 ness itself, give me a report." 
 
 "Well, these letters are the engagements of the Bre- 
 tagne nobles to sustain the rights of her Highness." 
 
 " Very good." 
 
 " This paper is the protest of the nobility." 
 
 " Oh, give it to me ! I protest." 
 
 "But you do not know against what." 
 
 "Never mind; I protest all the same." And taking 
 the paper, he wrote his name after that of Guillaume- 
 Antoine de Chastellux, which was the last signature. 
 
 " Let him alone, Madame," said Cellamare to the 
 duchess ; " Richelieu's name is useful everywhere." 
 
 " And this letter ? " asked the duke, pointing to the 
 missive of Philip V. 
 
 " That letter," continued Malezieux, " is written by 
 King Philip himself." 
 
 " Then his Catholic Majesty writes worse than I do," 
 answered Richelieu. " That pleases me ; RafFe always 
 says it is impossible." 
 
 " If the letter is badly written, the news it contains is 
 none the less good," said Madame du Maine, "for it is 
 a letter begging the King of France to assemble the States- 
 General to oppose the treaty of the quadruple alliance." 
 
 " And is your Highness sure of the States-General ? " 
 
 " Here is the protest which pledges the nobility. The 
 cardinal answers for the clergy, and there remains only 
 the army." 
 
 " The army," said Laval, " is my affair. I have the 
 signatures of twenty-two colonels." 
 
294 LE CHEVALIER D'HARMENTAL. 
 
 "First," said Richelieu, "I answer for my regiment, 
 which is at Bayonne, and which consequently is able 
 to he of great service to us." 
 
 " Yes," said Cellamare, " and we reckon on it ; but I 
 heard that there was a question of changing the garrison." 
 
 " Seriously 1 " 
 
 "Very seriously. You understand, Duke? We must 
 be beforehand." 
 
 "Of course! We must act at once. Give me paper 
 and ink ; I will write to the Due de Berwick. At the 
 moment of commencing a campaign, no one will be aston- 
 ished at my begging not to be removed from the theatre 
 of war." 
 
 The duchess hastened to give Richelieu what he asked, 
 and taking a pen, presented it to him herself. The duke 
 bowed, took the pen, and wrote the following letter : — 
 
 Monsieur le Due de Berwick, Peer and Marshal of 
 France, 1 — As my regiment, Monsieur, is liable at any time 
 to be moved, and as new regimentals have just been ordered 
 for it, which it must entirely lose if before they are finished it 
 should be obliged to make any movement, I have the honor 
 to beg, Monsieur, that you will be pleased to allow it to remain 
 at Bayonne until the beginning of May, when the regimentals 
 will be completed. And I beg you to believe me, with all 
 possible consideration, Monsieur, 
 
 Your very humble and obedient servant, 
 
 Due de Richelieu. 
 
 "Now read, Madame," continued the duke, passing the 
 paper to Madame du Maine. " After that precaution the 
 regiment will not stir from Bayonne." 
 
 The duchess took the letter, read it, and passed it to 
 
 1 The Due de Berwick had been appointed lieutenant-general of the 
 king's armies, in case war should break out, and had accepted, although 
 Philip V. had named him grandee of Spain, duke and chevalier of the 
 Golden Fleece. 
 
THE DUC DE RICHELIEU. 295 
 
 her neighbor, who passed it on, so that it made the round 
 of the table. Malezieux, who had it last, could not re- 
 press a slight smile. 
 
 "Ah, Monsieur le Poete," said Richelieu, "you are 
 laughing ; I suppose I have had the misfortune to offend 
 that ridiculous prude called orthography. You know I 
 am a gentleman, and they forgot to teach me French, 
 thinking, I suppose, that for fifteen hundred francs a year 
 I could always have a valet-de-chambre, who would write 
 my letters and make my verses. This will not prevent 
 me, my dear Malezieux, from being in the Academy, not 
 only before you, but before Voltaire." 
 
 " In which case, will your valet-de-chambre write your 
 discourse 1 " 
 
 " He is working at it ; and you will see that it will 
 not be worse than those that some academicians of my 
 acquaintance have written themselves." 
 
 "Monsieur le Due," said Madame du Maine, "it will 
 doubtless be a curious thing to see your reception into the 
 illustrious body of which you speak, and I promise you to 
 employ myself from and after to-morrow in procuring a 
 seat for that day ; but this evening we are occupied with 
 other things." 
 
 " Well," said Richelieu, "speak ; I listen. What have 
 you resolved ? " 
 
 " To obtain from the king, by means of these two let- 
 ters, the convocation of the States-General ; then, sui 
 we are of the three orders, we depose the regent, and 
 name Philip V. in his place." 
 
 " And as Philip V. cannot leave Madrid, he gives us 
 full powers, and we govern France in his stead. Well, it 
 is not badly arranged, all that ; but to convoke the States- 
 General you must have an order from the king." 
 
 " The king will sign it." 
 
296 LE CHEVALIER D'HARMENTAL. 
 
 " Without the regent's knowledge 1 " 
 
 " Without the regent's knowledge." 
 
 " Then you have promised the Bishop of Frejus to make 
 him a cardinal." 
 
 " No ; but I will promise Villeroy a title and the Golden 
 Fleece." 
 
 " I am afraid, Madame^" said the Prince de Cellamare, 
 M that all this will not determine the marshal to assume so 
 grave a responsibility." 
 
 " It is not the marshal we want ; it is his wife." 
 
 " Ah ! you remind me," said Richelieu ; " I under- 
 take it." 
 
 " You ! " said the duchess, with astonishment. 
 
 " Yes, Madame," replied Richelieu, " you have your 
 correspondence ; I have mine. I have seen seven or eight 
 letters that your Highness has received to-day. Will your 
 Highness have the goodness to look at one I received 
 yesterday 1 " 
 
 " Is this letter for me only, or may it be read aloud % " 
 
 "We are among persons who are discreet, are we not 1 ?" 
 said Richelieu, looking round him. 
 
 " I think so," replied the duchess ; " besides, the gravity 
 of the situation — " 
 
 The duchess took the letter, and read : — 
 
 Monsieur le Due, — I am a woman of my word. My 
 husband is on the eve of setting out for the little journey you 
 know of. To-morrow, at eleven o'clock, I shall be at home 
 for you only. Do not think that I decide on this step without 
 having put all the blame on the shoulders of Monsieur de 
 Villeroy. I begin to fear for him, as you may have under- 
 taken to punish him. Come, then, at the appointed hour, to 
 prove to me that I am not too much to blame in conspiring 
 with you against my lord and master. 
 
 " Ah ! pardon : that is not the one I intended to show 
 
THE DUC DE RICHELIEU. 297 
 
 you ; that is the one of the day before yesterday. Here 
 is yesterday's." 
 
 The Duchesse du Maine took the second letter, and read 
 as follows : — 
 
 My dear Armand, — 
 
 " Is this the right one, or are you mistaken again 1 " 
 said the duchess to Richelieu. 
 " No, no ; this time it is right." 
 The duchess went on : — 
 
 My dear Armand, — You are a dangerous advocate when 
 you plead against Monsieur de Villeroy. I need to exaggerate 
 your talents to diminish my weakness. You had, in my heart, 
 a judge interested in your gaining your cause. Come to-mor- 
 row to plead again, and I will give you an audience. 
 
 " And have you been there 1 " 
 
 " Certainly, Madame." 
 
 " And the duchess 1 " 
 
 " Will do, I hope, all we desire ; and as she makes her 
 husband do whatever she likes, we shall have our 
 order for the convocation of the States-General on his 
 return." 
 
 " And when will he return 1 " 
 
 " In a week." 
 
 " And can you be faithful all that time 1 " 
 
 " Madame, when I have undertaken a cause, I am capa- 
 ble of the greatest sacrifices to forward it." 
 
 " Then we may count on your word ] " 
 
 " I pledge myself." 
 
 " You hear, gentlemen 1 " said the Duchesse du Maine. 
 " Let us continue to work, each in his own sphere. You, 
 Laval, act on the army. You, Pompadour, on the nobil- 
 ity. You, Cardinal, on the clergy ; and we will leave the 
 Due de Eichelieu to act on Madame de Villeroy." 
 
298 LE CHEVALIER D'HARMENTAL. 
 
 " And for what day is our next meeting fixed 1 " asked 
 Cellamare. 
 
 "All depends on circumstances, Prince," replied the 
 duchess. " At any rate, if I have not time to give you 
 notice, I will send for you by the same carriage and the 
 same coachman who took you to the Arsenal the first 
 time you came there." Then turning toward Richelieu, 
 "You give us the rest of the evening, Duke?" 
 
 " I ask your pardon," replied Richelieu ; " but it is 
 absolutely impossible. I am expected in the Rue des 
 Bons-Enfans." 
 
 " What ! have you resumed relations with Madame de 
 Sabran?" 
 
 " They were never broken, Madame." 
 
 " Take care, Duke ; that looks like constancy." 
 
 " No, Madame ; it is calculation." 
 
 " Ah ! I see that you are in the way to become devoted." 
 
 " I never do things by halves, Madame." 
 
 " Well, we will follow your example, Monsieur le Due. 
 And now, gentlemen, we have been here an hour and 
 a half, and we should, I think, return to the gardens, 
 that our absence may not be too much noticed. Besides, 
 I think the Goddess of Night is on the shore, waiting to 
 thank us for the preference we have given her over the 
 sun, and it would not be polite to keep her waiting." 
 
 u With your permission, however, Madame," said Laval, 
 "I must detain you a moment to submit to you the em- 
 barrassment in which I am placed." 
 
 " Speak, Count," replied the duchess ; " to what does 
 it relate?" 
 
 " It relates to our requests, our protests, our memorials. 
 It was agreed, if you remember, that they should be 
 printed by workmen who could not read." 
 
 "Well]" 
 
THE DUC DE RICHELIEU. 299 
 
 " I bought a press, and established it in the cellar of a 
 house behind the Val-de-Grace. I enlisted the necessary 
 workmen, and up to the present time have had the most 
 satisfactory results; but the noise of our machine has 
 given rise to the suspicion that we were coining false 
 money, and yesterday the police made a descent on the 
 house. Fortunately there was time to stop the work and 
 roll a bed over the trap, so that they discovered nothing. 
 But as the visit might be renewed, and with a less fortu- 
 nate result, as soon as they were gone, I dismissed the 
 workmen, buried the press, and had all the proofs taken 
 to my own house." 
 
 " And you did well, Count," cried the Cardinal de 
 Polignac. 
 
 " But what are we to do now 1 " asked Madame du Maine. 
 
 "Have the press taken to my house," said Pompadour. 
 
 " Or mine," said Valef. 
 
 " No, no," said Malezieux ; "a press is too dangerous a 
 means. One of the police may easily slip in among the 
 workmen, and all will be lost. Besides, there cannot be 
 much left to print." 
 
 " The greater part is done," said Laval. 
 
 " Well," continued Malezieux, " my advice is, as be- 
 fore, to employ some intelligent copyist, whose silence we 
 can buy." 
 
 " Yes, this will be much safer," said Polignac. 
 
 " But where can we find such a man 1 " said the prince. 
 " It is not an affair on which we can employ the first 
 comer." 
 
 " If I dared — " said the Abbe Brigaud. 
 
 " Dare, Abbe, dare ! " said the duchess. 
 
 " I should say that I know the man you want." 
 
 " Did I not tell you," said Pompadour, " that the abbe 
 is a valuable man 1 ?" 
 
300 LE CHEVALIER D'HARMENTAL. 
 
 " But is he really what we want 1 " said Polignac. 
 
 " Oh, if your Eminence had him made on purpose he 
 could not do better," said Brigaud. "A true machine, 
 who will write everything and read nothing." 
 
 " But as a still greater precaution," said the prince, " we 
 might put the most important papers into Spanish." 
 
 " Then, Prince," said Brigaud, " I will send him to 
 you." 
 
 "No, no ! " said Cellamare; "he must not set his foot 
 within the Spanish embassy. It must be done through 
 some third party." 
 
 " Yes, yes ! we will arrange all that," said the duchess. 
 " The man is found, — that is the principal thing. You 
 answer for him, Brigaud 1 ?" 
 
 " I do, Madame." 
 
 " That is all we require. And now there is nothing to 
 keep us any longer," continued the duchess. " Monsieur 
 d'Harmental, give me your arm, I beg." 
 
 The chevalier hastened to obey Madame du Maine, who 
 seized this opportunity to express her gratitude for the 
 courage he had shown in the Rue des Bons-Enfans, and 
 his skill in Brittany. At the door of the pavilion, the 
 Greenland envoys — now dressed simply as guests — 
 found a little galley waiting to take them to the shore. 
 Madame du Maine entered first, seating D'Harmental by 
 her, leaving Malezieux to do the honors to Cellamare 
 and Richelieu. 
 
 As the duchess had said, the Goddess of Night, 
 dressed in black gauze spangled with golden stars, was 
 waiting on the other side of the lake, accompanied by 
 the twelve Hours ; and as soon as the duchess was near 
 enough to hear them, they began to sing a cantata ap- 
 propriate to the subject. The cantata opened with a 
 chorus of four verses, to which succeeded a solo, followed 
 
THE DUC DE KICHELIEU. 301 
 
 by a second chorus, and all in so exquisite taste that 
 every one turned toward Malezieux, the director of the 
 entertainment, to congratulate him on his success. At 
 the first notes of the solo D'Harmental started, for the 
 voice of the singer had so strong a resemblance to another 
 voice, well known to him and dear to his recollection, 
 that — however improbable was Bathilde's presence at 
 Sceaux — he rose involuntarily to look for the person 
 whose accents had so singularly moved him. Unfor- 
 tunately, in spite of the torches which the Hours, her 
 subjects, held, he could not distinguish the goddess's 
 features, which were covered with a long veil, similar to 
 her dress. He could only hear that pure, flexible, sono- 
 rous voice rise and fall with that free, well-trained, and 
 facile utterance which he had so much admired when he 
 heard it for the first time in the Rue du Temps-Perdu ; 
 and every tone of that voice, becoming more distinct as 
 he approached the shore, penetrated to the bottom of his 
 heart, and made him tremble from head to foot. At 
 length the solo ceased, and the chorus resumed, but 
 D'Harmental, still standing, and insensible to all other 
 thoughts, continued to follow in remembrance the voice 
 that had ceased and the notes that were no longer 
 heard. 
 
 "Well, Monsieur d'Harmental," said the duchess, "are 
 you so accessible to the charms of music that you forget 
 that you are my cavalier 1 ?" 
 
 " Oh, pardon, Madame ! " said D'Harmental, leaping to 
 the shore, and holding out his hand to the duchess ; " but 
 I thought I recognized that voice, and I confess it brought 
 to me memories so powerful — " 
 
 " That proves that you are an habitue of the opera, my 
 dear Chevalier, and that you appreciate, as it deserves, 
 Mademoiselle Bury's talent." 
 
302 LE CHEVALIER D'HARMENTAL. 
 
 " What ! is that voice Mademoiselle Bury's 1 " asked 
 D'Harmental, with astonishment. 
 
 "It is, Monsieur; and if you do not believe me," 
 replied the duchess, in a tone which betrayed a degree 
 of displeasure, "permit me to take Laval's arm or Pom- 
 padour's, that you may go and assure yourself of it." 
 
 " Oh, Madame," said D'Harmental, respectfully retaining 
 the hand she was about to withdraw, "pray excuse me. 
 We are in the gardens of Armida, and a moment of error 
 may be permitted among so many enchantments;" and 
 presenting his arm again to the duchess, he conducted 
 her toward the chateau. 
 
 At this instant a feeble cry was heard, and feeble as 
 it was, it reached D'Harmental's heart, and he turned 
 involuntarily. 
 
 " What is it 1 " asked the duchess, with an uneasiness 
 mixed with impatience. 
 
 " Nothing, nothing," said Richelieu ; "it is little Bury, 
 who has the vapors. Make yourself easy, Madame. I 
 know the disease ; it is not dangerous. If you particu- 
 larly wish it, I will even go to-morrow to learn how 
 she is." 
 
 Two hours after this little accident — which was not 
 sufficient to disturb the fete in any way — D'Harmental 
 was brought back to Paris by the Abbe Brigaud, and re- 
 entered his little attic in the Rue du Temps-Perdu, from 
 which he had been absent six weeks. 
 
JEALOUSY. 303 
 
 v CHAPTEK XXYII. 
 
 JEALOUSY. 
 
 The first sensation D'Harmental experienced on returning 
 was one of inexpressible satisfaction at finding himself 
 again in that little room so filled with recollections. 
 Though he had been absent from it six weeks, one might 
 have supposed that he had left it only the day before, 
 since, thanks to the almost maternal care of Madame 
 Denis, everything was in its accustomed place. D'Har- 
 mental remained an instant, his candle in his hand, look- 
 ing around him with a look almost of ecstasy. All the 
 other impressions of his life were effaced by those which 
 he had experienced in this little corner of the world. 
 Then he ran to the window, opened it, and threw an in- 
 describable look of love toward the darkened windows of 
 his neighbor. Doubtless Bathilde slept the sleep of an 
 angel, unaware that D'Harmental was there trembling 
 with love and hope. 
 
 He remained thus for more than half an hour, breathing 
 with full respirations the air of night, which had never 
 seemed to him so pure and fresh, and gazing alternately 
 at Bathilde's window and at the sky. Only then did. he 
 comprehend to what degree Bathilde had become a neces- 
 sity of his life, and how deep and strong was his love 
 for her. 
 
 At length, however, D'Harmental reflected that he 
 could not spend the entire night at his window, and 
 closing it, he went back into his room, — still to trace 
 
304 
 
 the recollections which his return to that little chamber 
 had awakened in his heart. He opened his piano, and 
 passed his fingers over the keys, at the risk of again 
 arousing the anger of the lodger on the third floor. From 
 the piano he passed to the unfinished portrait of Bathilde. 
 There were still the beautiful and pure young girl and 
 Mirza's wild and whimsical head. At length, after paus- 
 ing for a last time before every object, he lay down and 
 addressed himself to sleep, dwelling still in memory on 
 the solo sung by Mademoiselle Bury, whom at last, in 
 that vague twilight of thought which precedes complete 
 extinction, he fully identified with Bathilde. 
 
 When he awoke, D'Harmental jumped from his bed 
 and ran to the window. The day appeared already 
 advanced, and the sun was shining brilliantly ; yet 
 Bathilde's window remained hermetically closed. The 
 chevalier looked at his watch ; it was ten o'clock, and he 
 began to dress. We have already admitted that he was 
 not free from a certain almost feminine coquetry ; but 
 this was the fault of the time, when affectation entered 
 into everything, even passion. But this time it was not 
 a melancholy expression on which he reckoned. The joy 
 of return had given to his face a charming expression of 
 happiness, and it was evident that a glance from Bathilde 
 would crown him king of the creation. This glance he 
 came to the window to seek, but Bathilde's remained 
 closed. D'Harmental opened his, hoping that the noise 
 would attract her attention; nothing stirred. He re- 
 mained there an hour; during this hour there was not 
 even a breath of wind to move the curtains ; it seemed 
 as if the young girl's room had been abandoned. He 
 coughed, opened and closed the window, detached little 
 pieces of plaster from the wall, and threw them against 
 the panes, — all in vain. 
 
JEALOUSY. 305 
 
 To surprise succeeded uneasiness ; this window so obsti- 
 nately closed must indicate absence, if not misfortune. 
 Bathilde absent ! Where could she be 1 What had 
 happened to disturb her calm, regular life ? Where could 
 he seek information 1 No one but Madame Denis could 
 know. It was quite natural that D'Harmental should pay 
 a visit to his landlady on his return, and he accordingly 
 went down. Madame Denis had not seen him since the 
 day of the breakfast. She had not forgotten his attention 
 when she fainted. She received him therefore like the 
 prodigal son. 
 
 Fortunately for D'Harmental, the young ladies were 
 occupied with a drawing-lesson, and Boniface was at his 
 office, so that he saw no one but his hostess. The conver- 
 sation fell naturally on the order and neatness of his room 
 during his absence ; from this the transition was easy to 
 the question if the opposite lodging had changed tenants. 
 Madame Denis replied that she had seen Bathilde at the 
 window the morning before ; and that in the evening her 
 son had met Buvat returning from his office, but had 
 noticed in him a singular air of pride and hauteur. 
 
 This was all D'Harmental wished to know. Bathilde 
 was in Paris and at home ; chance had not yet directed her 
 looks toward that window so long closed, and that room 
 so long empty. He took leave of Madame Denis with an 
 effusion of gratitude which she was far from attributing 
 to its true cause. 
 
 On the landing D'Harmental met the Abbe Brigaud, 
 who was coming to pay his daily visit to Madame Denis. 
 The abbe asked if he was going home, and promised to 
 pay him a visit. On entering his room, D'Harmental went 
 straight to the window. Nothing was changed in regard 
 to his neighbor; her curtains were still scrupulously 
 closed. Decidedly this reserve was intentional. D'Har- 
 
 20 
 
306 LE CHEVALIER D'HARMENTAL. 
 
 mental resolved to employ the last means which he had 
 reserved. He sat down to the piano, and after a brilliant 
 prelude sang the air of the cantata of " Night " which he 
 had heard the evening before, and of which he had re^ 
 tained every note in his memory. Meanwhile he did not 
 lose sight for an instant of the inexorable window ; but 
 there was no sign. The opposite room had no echo. 
 
 But failing of the result which he intended, D'Har- 
 mental had produced an effect which he did not intend. 
 Hearing applause, he turned round, and saw the Abbe 
 Brigaud behind him. "Ah, it is you, Abbe ! " said he, 
 rising and going quickly to close the window ; " I did not 
 know that you were so great a lover of music." 
 
 "Nor I that you were so good a musician. Pestef 
 my dear pupil ; an air you heard only once ! It is 
 wonderful ! * 
 
 * I thought it very beautiful, Abbe ; and as I have a very 
 good memory for sounds, I retained it." 
 
 " And then it was so admirably sung ; was it not 1 " 
 
 " Yes," said D'Harmental ; " Mademoiselle Bury has an 
 exquisite voice, and the first time she sings I shall go in- 
 cognito to the opera." 
 
 " Is it that voice you want to hear 1 " asked Brigaud. 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " You need not go to the opera for that." 
 
 " And where must I go 1 " 
 
 " Nowhere. Stay here. You are in the boxes." 
 
 " What ! The Goddess of Night — " 
 
 " Is your neighbor." 
 
 " Bathilde ! " cried D'Harmental. " Then I was not de- 
 ceived ; I recognized her. But it is impossible ! How 
 could she have been there % " 
 
 "First of all," said the abb£, "nothing is impossible in 
 these times ; remember that, before you deny or undertake 
 
JEALOUSY. 307 
 
 anything. Believe that everything is possible; it is the 
 way to succeed in everything." 
 
 "But Bathilde?" 
 
 " Yes ; does it not appear strange at first view 1 Well, 
 nothing is more simple. But it does not interest you, 
 Chevalier; let us talk of something else." 
 
 a Yes, yes, Abbe ! you are strangely mistaken ; I am 
 deeply interested." 
 
 " Well, my dear pupil, since you are so curious, this is 
 the whole affair. The Abbe de Chaulieu knows Mademoi- 
 selle Bathilde; is not that your neighbor's name?" 
 
 " Yes. How does the Abbe de Chaulieu know her 1 " 
 
 "Oh, very naturally. The guardian of this charming 
 child is, as you know, or do not know, one of the best 
 writers and copyists in the capital. The Abbe de Chaulieu 
 wants some one to copy his poetry, since, being blind, he 
 is obliged to dictate in the first instance to a little lackey 
 who cannot spell ; and he has confided this important task 
 to Buvat. By this means he has become acquainted with 
 Mademoiselle Bathilde." 
 
 "But all this does not explain how Mademoiselle 
 Bathilde came to Sceaux." 
 
 " Stop ; every history has its beginning, its middle, and 
 its termination." 
 
 " Abbe, you will make me swear." 
 
 " Patience, patience ! " 
 
 " Go on ; I listen to you." 
 
 " Well, having made Mademoiselle Bathilde's acquaint- 
 ance, the Abbe de Chaulieu, like the rest, has felt the in- 
 fluence of her charms ; for you know there is a sort of 
 magic attached to the young person in question, and that 
 no one can see her without loving her." 
 
 " I know it," murmured D'Harmental. 
 
 " Then, as Mademoiselle Bathilde is full of talent, and 
 
308 LE CHEVALIER D'HARMENTAL. 
 
 not only sings like a nightingale, but draws like an angel, 
 Chaulieu spoke of her so enthusiastically to Mademoiselle 
 de Launay that she thought of employing her for the 
 costumes of the different personages in the fete." 
 
 " All this does not tell me that it was Bathilde and not 
 Mademoiselle Bury who sang last night." 
 
 " We are coming to it." 
 
 " Well 1 " 
 
 " It happened that Mademoiselle de Launay, like the 
 rest of the world, took a violent fancy to the little magician. 
 Instead of sending her away after the costumes were 
 designed, she kept her three days at Sceaux. She was 
 still there day before yesterday, closeted with Mademoi- 
 selle de Launay, when some one entered with a bewildered 
 air to announce to your Bat that the director of the 
 opera wished to speak to her on a matter of importance. 
 Mademoiselle de Launay went out, leaving Bathilde alone. 
 Bathilde, to amuse herself, went to the piano, and finding 
 both the instrument and her voice in good order, began to 
 sing a grand air from some opera, and with such perfection 
 that Mademoiselle de Launay, returning and hearing this 
 unexpected song, opened the door softly, listened to the 
 air, and threw her arms round the beautiful singer's neck, 
 crying out that she could save her life. Bathilde, aston- 
 ished, asked in what manner she could render her so great 
 a service. Then Mademoiselle de Launay told her that she 
 had engaged Mademoiselle Bury of the opera to sing the 
 cantata of ' Night ' on the succeeding evening, and she had 
 fallen ill and sent to say that to her great regret her royal 
 Highness the Duchesse du Maine could not rely upon her ; 
 so that there would be no * Night,' and consequently no 
 fete, if Bathilde would not have the extreme goodness to 
 undertake the aforesaid cantata. 
 
 " Bathilde, as you may suppose, defended herself with 
 
JEALOUSY. 309 
 
 all her might, and declared that it was impossible that she 
 should thus sing music which she did not know. Made- 
 moiselle de Launay put the cantata before her. Bathilde 
 said that the music seemed terribly difficult. Mademoiselle 
 de Launay answered that for a musician of Bathilde's 
 powers nothing was difficult. Bathilde got up. Mademoi- 
 selle de Launay made her sit down again. Bathilde clasped 
 her hands. Mademoiselle de Launay unclasped them and 
 placed them on the piano. The piano, being touched, gave 
 out a sound. Bathilde, in spite of herself, played the first 
 bar, then the second, then the whole cantata. Then she 
 attacked the song, and sang it to the end with an admi- 
 rable justness of intonation and beauty of expression. 
 Mademoiselle de Launay was enchanted. Madame du 
 Maine arrived in despair at what she had heard about 
 Mademoiselle Bury. Mademoiselle de Launay begged 
 Bathilde to begin the cantata again. Bathilde did not 
 dare to refuse ; she played and sang like an angel. Madame 
 du Maine joined her prayers to those of Mademoiselle de 
 Launay. You know, Chevalier, that it is impossible to 
 refuse Madame du Maine anything. 
 
 " Poor Bathilde was obliged to give way, and half 
 laughing, half crying, she consented, on two conditions : 
 the first, that she might go herself to her friend Buvat to 
 explain her absence ; the second, that she might remain at 
 home all that evening and the next morning in order to 
 study the unfortunate cantata. These clauses, after a 
 long discussion, were granted, with reciprocal promises, — 
 on Bathilde's part, that she would return at seven o'clock 
 the next evening ; on the part of Mademoiselle de Launay 
 and Madame du Maine, that every one should continue to 
 believe that it was Mademoiselle Bury who sang." 
 
 " But then," asked D'Harmental, " how was the secret 
 betrayed ? " 
 
310 LE CHEVALIER D'HARMENTAL. 
 
 " Oh ! by an unforeseen circumstance," replied Brigaud, 
 in that strange manner which caused one to doubt 
 whether he was in jest or earnest. " All went off 
 capitally, as you know, till the end of the cantata ; as is 
 proved by the fact that having heard it but once, you are 
 able to remember it from one end to the other. At the 
 moment the galley which brought us from the pavilion 
 of Aurora touched the shore, whether from emotion at 
 having sung for the first time in public, or because she 
 recognized in Madame du Maine's suite some one she had 
 not expected to see there, — for some unknown reason, the 
 poor Goddess of Night uttered a cry and fainted in the 
 arms of the Hours, her companions. All promises and 
 oaths were at once forgotten. Her veil was removed to 
 throw water in her face ; so that when I came up, while 
 you were going away with her Highness, I was much 
 astonished to find, instead of Mademoiselle Bury, your 
 pretty neighbor. I questioned Mademoiselle de Launay, 
 and as it was impossible any longer to keep the incog- 
 nito, she told me what had happened, — under the 
 seal of secrecy, which I have betrayed for you only, 
 my dear pupil ; because, I don't know why, I can refuse 
 you nothing." 
 
 " And this indisposition 1 " asked D'Harmental, with 
 uneasiness. 
 
 " Oh, it was nothing, — the effect of a momentary emo- 
 tion ; and it had no bad consequences, since, in spite 
 of all they could say to the contrary, Bathilde would not 
 remain another hour at Sceaux, but insisted on returning. 
 They put a carriage at her disposal, and she ought to have 
 been at home an hour before us." t 
 
 " Then you are sure she is at home 1 Thanks, Abbe ; 
 that is all I wished to know." 
 
 " And now," said Brigaud, " I may go, may I not ] 
 
JEALOUSY. 311 
 
 You have no more need of me, now that you know all you 
 wish to know." 
 
 " I do not say so, my dear Brigaud ; on the contrary, 
 stay. You will give me great pleasure." 
 
 " No, I thank you ; I have some husiness of my own to 
 transact in the town, and will leave you to your reflections, 
 my dear pupil." 
 
 " When shall I see you again 1 " asked D'Harniental, 
 mechanically. 
 
 " Most likely to-morrow," answered the abbe. 
 
 " Adieu till to-morrow, then." 
 
 " Till to-morrow." 
 
 So saying, the abbe turned round, laughing in his 
 peculiar manner, and reached the door while D'Harmental 
 was reopening his window, determined to remain there 
 till the next day, if necessary, even though as a reward 
 for this long watch he should catch only a single glimpse 
 of Bathilde. 
 
 The poor gentleman was in love over head and ears. 
 
312 LE CHEVALIER D'HAR MENTAL. 
 
 CHAPTEE XXVIII. 
 
 A PRETEXT. 
 
 At a few minutes past four D'Harmental saw Buvat 
 turning the corner of the Rue du Temps-Perdu. The 
 chevalier observed that the worthy writer moved with 
 more haste than usual, and that instead of holding his 
 stick vertically, as a bourgeois generally does when he is 
 walking, he held it horizontally, like a runner. As to 
 that appearance of majesty which had so struck Monsieur 
 Boniface, it had entirely vanished, and had given place to 
 a slight expression of uneasiness. There was no misun- 
 derstanding this ; Buvat would not return so quickly if 
 he was not uneasy about Bathilde. Bathilde, then, was 
 suffering. 
 
 The chevalier followed Buvat with his eyes till the 
 moment when he disappeared through the door of the 
 passage-way to his house. D'Harmental, with reason, 
 imagined that Buvat would go into Bathilde's room, in- 
 stead of mounting to his own ; and he hoped that Buvat 
 would open the window to admit the last rays of the sun, 
 which had been caressing it all day. 
 
 But D'Harmental was wrong ; Buvat contented himself 
 with raising the curtain, and pressing his good round face 
 against the window, and drumming on the panes with his 
 hands. But even this appearance was of short duration, for 
 he turned round suddenly, as a man does when any one 
 calls him ; he let fall the muslin curtain behind him, and 
 so was out of sight. D'Harmental presumed that his dis- 
 
A PRETEXT. 313 
 
 appearance was caused by some appeal to his appetite, 
 and this reminded him that in his preoccupation about 
 the obstinacy of that unlucky window in refusing to open, 
 he had forgotten his own breakfast, which, it must be 
 confessed, to the shame of his sensibility, was a very great 
 infraction on his habits. Now, however, as there was no 
 chance that the window would open while his neighbors 
 were at dinner, the chevalier determined to profit by the 
 interval by dining himself ; consequently he rang for 
 the porter, and ordered him to get from the confectioner 
 the fattest pullet, and from the fruiterer the finest fruit 
 that he could find. As to wine, he still had some bottles 
 of that which the Abbe Brigaud had sent him. 
 
 D'Harmental ate with a certain remorse. He could 
 not understand how he could be at the same time so 
 tormented, and have such a good appetite. Luckily he 
 remembered reading in the works of some moralist or 
 other that sorrow sharpens hunger wonderfully. This 
 maxim set his conscience at rest, and the result was that 
 the unfortunate pullet was eaten up to the very bones. 
 
 Although the act of dining was very natural, and by no 
 means reprehensible, D'Harmental, before seating himself 
 at the table, shut the window, contriving, however, in 
 closing the curtains, to leave a slight opening between 
 them, through which he could see the upper stories of the 
 house opposite to his. Thanks to this precaution, just as 
 he finished his repast he perceived Buvat, who, having 
 doubtless finished his own dinner, appeared at the window 
 of his terrace. As we have said, the weather was splen- 
 did, and Buvat seemed disposed to profit by it ; but as 
 he belonged to that class of beings who enjoy nothing 
 alone, he turned round with a gesture which D'Harmental 
 took to be an invitation to Bathilde — who had doubtless 
 followed him into his room — to come out on the terrace 
 
314 LE CHEVALIER D'HARMENTAL. 
 
 with him. Consequently, he hoped for an instant that 
 Bathilde would appear, and he rose with a beating heart ; 
 but he was mistaken. However tempting might be the 
 beautiful evening, and however pressing the invitations 
 of Buvat, both were useless. But it was not so with 
 Mirza, who, jumping out of the window without being 
 invited, began to bound joyously about the terrace, hold- 
 ing in her mouth a purple ribbon, which she caused to 
 flutter like a streamer, and which D'Harmental recognized 
 as the one which had fastened his neighbor's hat on the 
 preceding night. Apparently Buvat recognized it also, for 
 he started off in pursuit of Mirza as fast as his little legs 
 would allow him, — a pursuit which would doubtless have 
 been indefinitely prolonged, if Mirza had not had the im- 
 prudence to take refuge in the famous cavern of the hydra 
 of which we have given our readers so full a description. 
 Buvat hesitated to extend his arm into the cave, but at 
 length, mustering his courage, he followed the fugitive, 
 and a moment later D'Harmental saw him return with 
 the ribbon in his hand, which he passed back and forth 
 on his knee to efface the wrinkles, after which he folded 
 it up, and went in, probably to deposit it in some drawer 
 where it would be safe from Mirza's roguery. 
 
 This was the moment that the chevalier had waited for. 
 He opened his window and watched. In a minute Mirza 
 put her head out of the cavern, looked about her, yawned, 
 shook her ears, and jumped upon the terrace ; then D'Har- 
 mental called her in the most caressing and seductive tone 
 which he could command. Mirza trembled at the sound 
 of his voice, then directed her eyes toward him. At the 
 first look she recognized the man of the bits of sugar, gave 
 a little growl of joy, then, with a rapid gastronomic in- 
 stinct, she darted through Buvat's window with a single 
 bound, and disappeared. 
 
A PRETEXT. 315 
 
 D'Harmental looked down, and almost at the same 
 instant saw Mirza coming across the street like a flash 
 of lightning; before he had time to shut his window, 
 she was already scratching at the door. Fortunately for 
 D'Harmental, Mirza had the memory of sugar as strongly 
 developed as he had that of sounds. 
 
 It will be easily understood that the chevalier did not 
 make the charming little creature wait; and she darted 
 into the room, bounding, and giving the most unequivocal 
 signs of joy at his unexpected return. As to D'Harmental, 
 he was almost as happy as if he had seen Bathilde. Mirza 
 was something to the young girl ; she was her dearly 
 loved greyhound, so caressed and kissed by her, who laid 
 her head on Bathilde's knees in the daytime, and slept on 
 the foot of her bed at night, — the confidante of her sor- 
 rows and of her happiness, and a messenger also, safe and 
 speedy; it was in this latter capacity that D'Harmental 
 had summoned her to him, and had received her so hos- 
 pitably. The chevalier set Mirza to eating sugar, and sat 
 down at his desk. Letting his heart speak, and his pen 
 run on, he wrote the following letter : — 
 
 Dearest Bathilde, — You believe me very guilty, do 
 you not 1 But you cannot know the strange circumstances 
 in which I find myself, and which are my excuse. If I could 
 be happy enough to see you for an instant (even for an 
 instant) you would understand that there are in me two 
 different persons, — the young student of the attic, and the 
 gentleman of the fetes at Sceaux. Open your window, then, 
 so that I may see you, or your door, so that I may speak to 
 you. Let me come and sue for your pardon on my knees. 
 I am certain that when you know how unfortunate I am, and 
 how devotedly I love you, you will have pity on me. 
 
 Adieu, or rather au revoir, dear Bathilde ; I love you more 
 than I can express, more than you can believe, more than you 
 
 Raoul. 
 
316 LE CHEVALIER D'HARMENTAL. 
 
 This letter, which would have appeared very cold to 
 a woman of these days, because it said only what the 
 writer intended, seemed sufficient to the chevalier, and 
 was really impassioned for that time. D'Harmental folded 
 it up, and attached it, as he had the first, to Mirza's collar ; 
 then, taking up the sugar, which the greedy little animal 
 followed with her eyes to the cupboard, where he shut it 
 up, the chevalier opened the door of his room, and showed 
 Mirza, with a gesture, what there remained for her to do. 
 Whether it was pride or intelligence, the littlo creature did 
 not wait to be told twice ; she darted out on the staircase, 
 stopped on the way only to bite Monsieur Boniface, whom 
 she met coming home from his office, crossed the road, 
 and disappeared in the passage-way to Bathilde's house. 
 D'Harmental remained at the window for a minute, fear- 
 ing that Mirza would take his note to Buvat instead of 
 Bathilde ; but she was too intelligent for that, and since 
 he did not see her at the window of the terrace, he saga- 
 ciously inferred that she had stopped in the fourth story. 
 Consequently, in order not to frighten poor Bathilde too 
 much, he shut his window, hoping that by this concession 
 he should obtain some sign which would indicate to him 
 that he might yet be pardoned. 
 
 But it had no such result. D'Harmental waited in vain 
 all the evening and a part of the night. At eleven o'clock, 
 the light, scarcely seen through the double curtains still 
 hermetically closed, went out altogether. D'Harmental 
 watched an hour longer at his open window, ready to seize 
 the first opportunity for reconciliation ; but nothing ap- 
 peared. All was silent and dark ; and he was obliged to 
 renounce the hope of seeing Bathilde till the next day. 
 
 The next day brought the same rigid reserve ; it was 
 a settled plan of defence, which, to a man less in love 
 than D'Harmental, would simply have indicated fear of 
 
A PRETEXT. 317 
 
 defeat ; but the chevalier, with a simplicity worthy of the 
 age of gold, saw nothing hut a coldness, in the eternity 
 of which he began to believe ; it is true that it had lasted 
 twenty-four hours. 
 
 D'Harmental occupied himself all the first half of the 
 day with turning in his mind a thousand projects, each 
 more absurd than those that came before it. The only one 
 which was characterized by common-sense was to cross 
 the street, mount boldly to Bathilde's room, and tell her 
 everything. It came to his mind like all the rest ; and as 
 it was the only reasonable one, D'Harmental was very 
 careful not to stop at it. And indeed, it would be a great 
 boldness to present himself thus before Bathilde, without 
 being authorized by the least sign, and without having 
 any pretext to give. Such a course of conduct could but 
 wound her, and she was only too much irritated already ; 
 it was better to wait, then, and D'Harmental waited. 
 
 At two o'clock Brigaud returned, and found D'Har- 
 mental in a very savage state of mind. The abbe threw 
 a glance toward the window, still hermetically closed, and 
 divined everything. He took a chair, and sat down oppo- 
 site D'Harmental, twisting his thumbs round one another, 
 as he saw the chevalier doing. 
 
 "My dear pupil," said he, after a moment's silence, 
 "either I am a bad physiognomist, or I read on your 
 face that something profoundly sad has happened to 
 you." 
 
 "And you read right, my dear Abbe," said the cheva- 
 lier ; "I am ennuye." 
 
 "Ah, really V 
 
 " So much so," said D'Harmental, " that I am ready to 
 send your conspiracy to the devil." 
 
 "Oh, Chevalier, one must not throw the helve after 
 the hatchet ! What I send the conspiracy to the devil, 
 
318 LE CHEVALIER D'HARMENTAL. 
 
 when it is going on wheels ? Nonsense ! and what will 
 the others say?" 
 
 " Oh, you are charming, — you and your others. The 
 others, my dear Abbe, have society, balls, the opera, 
 duels, mistresses, — amusements, in short ; they are not 
 shut up, like me, in a miserable garret." 
 
 "Yes; but the piano, the drawing?" 
 
 " Even with this, it is not amusing." 
 
 " Ah, it is not amusing when one sings or draws alone ; 
 but when one sings or draws in company, it begins to be 
 better." 
 
 " And with whom, in the devil's name, should I sing or 
 draw?" 
 
 " In the first place, there are the Demoiselles Denis." 
 
 " Oh, yes, they sing beautifully and draw well, do they 
 not?" 
 
 "Mon Dieu ! I do not propose them to you as virtuosos 
 and artists ; they have not the talents of your neighbor. 
 But, by the bye, there is your neighbor." 
 
 " Well, my neighbor ? " 
 
 "Why do you not sing with her, since she sings so 
 well? That will amuse you." 
 
 "Do I know her? Does she even open her window? 
 Look, since yesterday she has barricaded herself in her 
 own room. Ah, yes, my neighbor is amiable ! " 
 
 " Yes, they told me that she was charming." 
 
 " Besides, it seems to me that both singing in our own 
 rooms, we should have a singular duet." 
 
 " Then go to her room." 
 
 " To her room ! Have I been introduced to her 1 Do 
 I know her?" 
 
 " Well, make a pretext." 
 
 " I have been searching for one since yesterday." 
 
 "And you have not found one? A man of imagina- 
 
A PRETEXT. 319 
 
 tion like you ! My dear pupil, I do not recognize you 
 there." 
 
 " Listen, Abbe ! A truce to your pleasantries ! I am 
 not in the humor for them to-day; every one has his 
 stupid days." 
 
 "Well, on those days one addresses himself to his 
 friends." 
 
 " To his friends ! And for what ? " 
 
 " To find the pretext which he has himself sought for 
 in vain." 
 
 "Well, then, Abbe, you are my friend; find the 
 pretext. I wait for it." 
 
 " Nothing is easier." 
 
 "Keally!" 
 
 " Do you want it V . 
 
 " Take care what you engage to do." 
 
 " I engage to open your neighbor's door to you." 
 
 " In a proper manner 1 " 
 
 " What ! do I know any others 1 " 
 
 " Abbe, I will strangle you if your pretext is bad." 
 
 "And if it is good?" 
 
 "If it is good, Abbe\ if it is good, — you are an ador- 
 able man." 
 
 " You remember what the Comte de Laval said about 
 the descent which the police have made upon the house 
 in the Val-de-Grace, and the necessity he was under of 
 sending away his workmen and burying his press?" 
 
 " Perfectly." 
 
 " You remember the determination which was come to 
 in consequence?" 
 
 " Yes ; to employ a copyist." 
 
 " Finally, you remember that I undertook to find that 
 copyist 1 " 
 
 " I do." 
 
320 LE CHEVALIER D'HARMENTAL. 
 
 " Well, this copyist on whom I had cast my eyes, this 
 honest man whom I promised to discover, is discovered, 
 and is no other than the guardian of Bathilde." 
 
 "Buvatl" 
 
 " Himself ! Well, I give you full powers. You go to 
 his house ; you offer him gold ; the door is opened wide 
 to you, and you can sing as much as you like with 
 Bathilde." 
 
 " My dear Abbe," cried D'Harmental, " you have saved 
 my life!" 
 
 D'Harmental took his hat, and darted toward the door; 
 now that he had a pretext, he doubted of nothing. 
 
 " Stop, stop ! " said Brigaud ; " you do not even ask me 
 where the good man must go for the papers in question." 
 
 " To your house, of course ! " 
 
 " Certainly not, young man, certainly not." 
 
 "Where, then?" 
 
 "To the Prince de Listhnay's, Rue du Bac, 110." 
 
 " The Prince de Listhnay ! and who is he 1 " 
 
 " A prince of our own making, — D'Avranches, the 
 valet-de-chambre to Madame du Maine." 
 
 " And you think that he will play his part well 1 " 
 
 " Not well enough for you, perhaps, who are accustomed 
 to see princes, but for Buvat — " 
 
 " You are right. Au revoir, Abbe\" 
 
 " You find the pretext good % " 
 
 "Capital." 
 
 " Go, then, and good luck go with you ! " 
 
 D'Harmental descended the stairs four at a time; 
 having arrived at the middle of the street, and seeing 
 the abbe watching him from the window, he made a part- 
 ing sign to him with his hand, and disappeared through 
 the door of the passage-way to Bathilde's house. 
 
COUNTERPLOTS. 321 
 
 CHAPTEE XXIX. 
 
 COUNTERPLOTS. 
 
 On her part, as may be easily understood, Bathilde had 
 not made such an effort without suffering from it; the 
 poor child loved D'Harmental with all the strength of a 
 love at seventeen, — a first love. During the first month 
 of his absence she had counted the days ; during the fifth 
 week she had counted the hours; during the last week 
 she had counted the minutes. Then it was that the Abbe" 
 de Chaulieu had come for her, to take her to Mademoiselle 
 de Launay; and as he had taken care, not only to speak 
 of her talents, but also to tell who she was, Bathilde had 
 been received with all the consideration which was due to 
 her, and which poor De Launay paid all the more readily 
 because it had been so long forgotten toward herself. 
 
 This visit, which had rendered Buvat so proud, had 
 been welcomed by Bathilde as a distraction, which might 
 help her to pass these last moments of suspense ; but 
 when she found that Mademoiselle de Launay wished to 
 retain her the very day on which, according to her calcu- 
 lation, Raoul would return, she heartily regretted her visit 
 to Sceaux, and would certainly have refused if Madame 
 du Maine herself had not interposed. It was impossible 
 to refuse a person who, according to the ideas of the time, 
 from the supremacy of her rank, had almost a right to 
 command this service; but as she would have reproached 
 herself eternally if Raoul had returned in her absence, 
 and on returning had found her window closed, she had, 
 
 21 
 
322 LE CHEVALIER D'HARMENTAL. 
 
 as we have seen, insisted on returning to study the can- 
 tata, and to explain to Buvat what had taken place. 
 Poor Bathilde! she had invented two false pretexts, to 
 hide under a double veil the true motive of her return. 
 
 If Buvat had been proud when Bathilde was employed 
 to design the costumes for the fete, he was doubly so 
 when he found that she was destined to play a part, in it. 
 He had constantly dreamed of Bathilde's return to for- 
 tune, and to that social position of which her parents' 
 death had deprived her; and anything that put her in 
 communication with the social circle to which she be- 
 longed, appeared to him a step toward this inevitable 
 and happ}' result. ' 
 
 Nevertheless, the experiment had borne heavily on him. 
 The three days which he had passed without seeing Ba- 
 thilde had appeared to him like three centuries. At the 
 office it was not so bad, though every one could see that 
 some extraordinary event had happened; but when he 
 came home, poor Buvat found himself altogether miserable. 
 The first day he could not eat when he sat down alone to 
 that table where, for thirteen years, he had been accus- 
 tomed to see Bathilde sitting opposite to him. The next 
 day, when Nanette reproached him, and told him that he 
 was injuring his health, he made an effort to eat ; but he 
 had hardly finished his meal when he felt as if he had 
 been swallowing lead ; and he was obliged to have re- 
 course to the most powerful digestives to help down this 
 unfortunate dinner. The third day Buvat did not sit 
 dowu to table at all, and Nanette had the greatest 
 trouble to persuade him to take some broth, into which 
 she declared she saw two great tears fall. At last, on 
 the evening of the third day, Bathilde returned, and 
 brought back his sleep and his appetite. Buvat, who for 
 three nights bad hardly slept, and for three days had 
 
COUNTERPLOTS. 323 
 
 hardly eaten, now slept like a top and ate like an 
 ogre. 
 
 Bathilde also was very joyous ; she calculated that this 
 must be the last day of Eaoul's absence. He had writ- 
 ten to her that he should be away six weeks. She had 
 already counted forty-one long days ; the six weeks had 
 therefore passed, and Bathilde, judging Raoul by herself, 
 would not admit that there could be an instant's delay. 
 Therefore the next day she watched her neighbor's win- 
 dow constantly while studying the cantata. Carriages 
 rarely entered the Rue du Temps-Perdu, but it happened 
 that three passed between ten and four ; every time a 
 carriage passed she ran breathless to the window, and 
 every time she was disappointed. 
 
 Shortly after four o'clock Buvat returned, and this time 
 it was Bathilde who could not swallow a single morsel. 
 The time to set out for Sceaux at length arrived. Ba- 
 thilde went for the last time to her window ; still no sign 
 of Eaoul's return. The idea that his absence might be 
 prolonged beyond the appointed time then occurred to her 
 for the first time, and she went away with a heavy heart, 
 and regretting more than ever that fete which prevented 
 her spending the night watching for him whom already 
 she had so long expected. 
 
 When she arrived at Sceaux, however, the lights, the 
 noise, the music, and, above all, the excitement of singing 
 for the first time in public diverted her attention from 
 thoughts of Raoul. Once the idea crossed her mind that 
 he might return during her absence, and that finding her 
 window closed, he might think her indifferent ; but then 
 she remembered that Mademoiselle de Launay had prom- 
 ised her that she should return home before daylight, and 
 she determined that Raoul should see her standing at her 
 window as soon as he opened his. Then she would ex- 
 
324 LE CHEVALIER D'HARMENTAL. 
 
 plain to him how she had been obliged to be absent that 
 evening ; she would allow him to suspect what she had 
 suffered; and if she might judge of his feelings by her 
 own, he would be so happy that he would forgive her. 
 
 All this passed through Bathilde's mind while waiting 
 for Madame du Maine on the border of the lake ; and it 
 was in the midst of the discourse she was preparing for 
 Eaoul that the approach of the little galley surprised her. 
 At first — in her fear of singing before such a great com- 
 pany — she thought her voice would fail ; but she was too 
 good a musician not to be encouraged by the admirable 
 instrumentation which supported her. She resolved not 
 to allow herself to be intimidated, and abandoning herself 
 to the inspiration of the music and of the scene, she went 
 through her part with such success that every one con- 
 tinued to take her for the singer whom she replaced, 
 although that singer was the first at the opera, and was 
 supposed to have no rival. 
 
 But Bathilde's astonishment was great when, after the 
 solo was finished, she looked toward the group which was 
 approaching her, and saw, seated by Madame du Maine, 
 a young cavalier so much like Eaoul that if this appari- 
 tion had presented itself to her in the midst of the song, 
 her voice must have failed her. For an instant she 
 doubted ; but as the galley touched the shore she could 
 do so no longer. It was impossible that two persons, 
 though brothers, should resemble each other so exactly ; 
 it was certain that the young cavalier of Sceaux and the 
 young student of the attic were one and the same. 
 
 This was not, however, what wounded Bathilde; the 
 rank which Eaoul appeared to hold, instead of removing 
 him from the daughter of Albert du Eocher, only brought 
 him nearer to her; and besides, she had recognized in 
 him at first sight, as he had in her, the marks of high 
 
COUNTERPLOTS. 325 
 
 birth. What wounded her — as a betrayal of her good 
 faith and an insult to her love — was this pretended ab- 
 sence, during which Raoul, forgetting the Rue du Temps- 
 Perdu, had left his little room unoccupied to mix in the f&tes 
 at Sceaux. Thus Raoul had had but an instant's caprice 
 for her, sufficient to induce him to pass a week or two in 
 an attic ; but he had soon got tired of this life. Then, 
 not to humiliate Bathilde too much, he had invented the 
 pretext of a journey ; to avoid distressing her, he had pre- 
 tended that to him this journey was a misfortune. But 
 nothing of this was true ; Raoul had not left Paris, or if 
 he had, his first visit on his return had been elsewhere 
 than to the place which should have been so dear to him. 
 In this accumulation of sorrows there was enough to 
 wound a love less sensitive than that of Bathilde. And 
 therefore, when Raoul touched the shore, and she found 
 herself only four steps from him ; when it was impossible 
 for her longer to doubt that the young student and the 
 handsome nobleman were the same ; when she saw him 
 whom she had supposed to be a young provincial offering 
 his arm in that elegant and easy manner to the proud Ma- 
 dame du Maine herself, — her strength abandoned her, and 
 with that cry which had gone to D'Harrnental's heart she 
 fainted. On opening her eyes, she found near her Ma- 
 demoiselle cle Launay, who lavished on her every possible 
 attention, and insisted that instead of returning to Paris 
 Bathilde should remain at Sceaux ; but she was in haste 
 to leave this place where she had suffered so much, and 
 begged, with an accent that could not be refused, to be 
 allowed to return ; a carriage was in readiness to take her, 
 and she went directly. 
 
 On arriving, Bathilde found Nanette waiting for her. 
 Buvat also had intended to sit up, that he might embrace 
 Bathilde on her return, and get news of the grand fete ; 
 
326 LE CHEVALIER D'HARMENTAL. 
 
 but by twelve o'clock he was so sleepy that it was in vain 
 he rubbed his eyes, and tried to sing his favorite song. 
 He could not keep awake, and at length he went to bed, 
 telling Nanette to iet him know the next morning as soon 
 as Bathilde was visible. 
 
 As may be imagined, Bathilde was well satisfied to find 
 Nanette alone ; Buvat's presence would have been very 
 irksome to her. There is in woman's heart, at whatever 
 age, a sympathy for the griefs of love which is never found 
 in the heart of a man, however tender and compassionate 
 that heart may be. In Buvat's presence Bathilde would 
 not have dared to weep ; in presence of Nanette she burst 
 into tears. Nanette had expected to see her young mis- 
 tress return proud and joyous at the triumph which she 
 could not fail to obtain, and was distressed to see her in 
 this state ; but to all her questions Bathilde replied that 
 it was nothing, absolutely nothing. Nanette saw that it 
 was of no use to insist, and went to her room, which, as 
 we have said, was next to Bathilde's ; but she could not 
 resist the impulse of curiosity, and looking through the 
 key-hole, she saw her young mistress kneel down before 
 her little crucifix, and then, as by a sudden impulse, run 
 to the window, open it, and look at the window opposite. 
 Nanette doubted no longer ; Bathilde's grief was somehow 
 connected with her love, and it was caused by the young 
 man who lived on the other side of the street. She felt 
 relieved ; women pity these griefs above all others, but 
 they also know that they may come to a good end. Na- 
 nette went to sleep much less concerned than she would 
 have been had she not discovered the cause of Bathilde's 
 tears. 
 
 Bathilde slept badly ; the first griefs and the first joys 
 of love have the same results. She woke therefore with 
 sunken eyes and pale cheeks. She would have dispensed 
 
COUNTERPLOTS. 327 
 
 with seeing Buvat, but he had already asked for her 
 twice, so she took courage, and went smiling to speak to 
 him. Buvat, however, was not deceived; he could not 
 fail to notice her pale cheeks, and Bathilde's grief was 
 obvious to him. She of course denied that she was in any 
 other than her usual condition. Buvat pretended to be- 
 lieve her, but went to the office very uneasy, and anxious 
 to know what could have happened to her. 
 
 When he was gone Nanette approached Bathilde, who 
 was sitting in her chair with her head leaning on her 
 hand, and stood an instant before her, contemplating her 
 with an almost maternal love ; then, finding that Bathilde 
 did not speak, she herself broke silence. 
 
 " Are you suffering still, Mademoiselle 1 " said she. 
 
 " Yes, my good Nanette." 
 
 " If you would open the window, I think it would do 
 you good." 
 
 " Oh, no, Nanette, thank you ; the window must re- 
 main closed." 
 
 " You do not know, perhaps, Mademoiselle — " 
 
 "Yes, yes, Nanette ! I know." 
 
 " That the young man opposite returned this morning." 
 
 "Well, Nanette," said Bathilde, raising her head and 
 looking at her with severity, " what is that to me 1 " 
 
 " Pardon, Mademoiselle," answered Nanette, " but I 
 thought — " 
 
 "What did you think?" 
 
 " That you regretted his absence, and would be glad of 
 his return." 
 
 "You were wrong." 
 
 "Pardon, Mademoiselle, but he appears so distinguished." 
 
 " Too much so, Nanette ; a great deal too much so for 
 poor Bathilde." 
 
 " Too distinguished for you, Mademoiselle ! " cried 
 
328 LE CHEVALIER D'HARMENTAL. 
 
 Nanette, "as if you were not worth all the noblemen in 
 the world ! Besides, you are noble ! " 
 
 " I am what I appear to be, Nanette ; that is to say, 
 a poor girl, with whose peace, honor, and love, every 
 nobleman thinks he may play with impunity. You see, 
 Nanette, that this window must be closed. I must not 
 see this young man again." 
 
 14 Mon Dieu / Mademoiselle Bathilde, you wish, then, to 
 kill this poor young man with grief ! This whole morn- 
 ing he has not moved from his window, and looks so sad 
 that it is enough to break one's heart." 
 
 "What does his looking sad matter to me? What 
 has he to do with me? I do not know him. I do not 
 even know his name. He is a stranger, who has come 
 here to stay for a few days, and who to-morrow may go 
 away again, if he has not already gone. If I had 
 thought anything of him, I should have been wrong, 
 Nanette ; and instead of encouraging me in a love which 
 would be folly, you ought, on the contrary, — supposing 
 that it existed, — to show me the absurdity and the 
 danger of it." s 
 
 "Mon Dieu! Mademoiselle, why so? You must love 
 some day, and you may as well love a handsome young 
 man who looks like a king, and who must be rich, since 
 he does not do anything." 
 
 "Well, Nanette, what would you say if this young 
 man who appears to you so simple, so loyal, and so good, 
 were an evil-minded man, a traitor, a liar?" 
 
 "Ah, mon Dieu! Mademoiselle, I should say it was 
 impossible." 
 
 " If I told you that this young man who lives in an 
 attic, and who shows himself at the window dressed so 
 simply, was yesterday at Sceaux, giving his arm to Ma* 
 dame du Maine, dressed as a colonel?" 
 
COUNTERPLOTS. 329 
 
 "I should say, Mademoiselle, that at last God is just 
 in sending you some one worthy of you. Holy Virgin ! 
 a colonel ! a friend of the Duchesse du Maine ! Oh, 
 Mademoiselle Bathilde, you will be a countess, I tell you ! 
 and it is not too much for you. If Providence gave to 
 all what they deserve, you would be a duchess, a prin- 
 cess, a queen, — yes, Queen of France ; Madame de Main- 
 tenon was — " 
 
 " I would not be like her, Nanette." 
 
 " I do not say like her ; besides, it is not the king you 
 love, Mademoiselle." 
 
 " I do not love any one, Nanette." 
 
 " I am too polite to contradict you, Mademoiselle. But 
 never mind, you are ill ; and the first remedy for a young 
 person who is ill is air and sun. Look at the poor flowers ; 
 when they are shut up, they turn pale. Let me open the 
 window, Mademoiselle." 
 
 " Nanette, I forbid you; go to your work and leave 
 me." 
 
 "Very well, Mademoiselle, I will go, since you drive 
 me away," said Nanette, lifting the corner of her apron 
 to her eye; "but if I were in that young man's place, 
 I know very well what I would do." 
 
 " And what would you do % " 
 
 " I would come and explain myself ; and I am sure that 
 even if he were wrong you would excuse him." 
 
 " Nanette," said Bathilde, " if he comes, I forbid you to 
 admit him ; do you hear 1 " 
 
 "Very well, Mademoiselle; he shall not be admitted, 
 though it is not very polite to turn people away from 
 the door." 
 
 " Polite or not, you will do as I tell you," said Bathilde, 
 to whom contradiction gave strength ; " and now go. I 
 wish to be alone." 
 
330 LE CHEVALIER D'HARMENTAL. 
 
 Nanette went out. 
 
 When she was alone, Bathilde burst into tears, for her 
 strength was but pride. She believed herself the most 
 unfortunate woman in the world, as D'Harmental thought 
 himself the most unfortunate man. 
 
 At a few minutes after four o'clock Buvat returned. 
 Bathilde, seeing the traces of uneasiness on his good- 
 natured face, did all she could to tranquillize him. She 
 smiled, she joked, she kept him company at table; but 
 all was in vain. After dinner he proposed to Bathilde, 
 as an amusement whose attraction was irresistible, to take 
 a walk on the terrace. Bathilde, thinking that if she 
 refused, Buvat would remain with her, made a pretence 
 of accepting, and went up with him into his room ; but 
 when there, she remembered that she must write a letter 
 of thanks to the Abbe de Chaulieu, for his kindness in 
 presenting her to Madame du Maine, and leaving her 
 guardian with Mirza, she went down. Shortly after, she 
 heard Mirza scratching at the door, and went to open it. 
 Mirza entered with such demonstrations of joy that Ba- 
 thilde understood that something extraordinary must have 
 happened ; and on looking attentively, she saw the letter 
 tied to Mirza's collar. As this was the second she had 
 brought, Bathilde had no difficulty in guessing whence 
 it came and who was the author of the letter. The 
 temptation was too strong for Bathilde even to try to 
 resist; she detached the paper with one hand, which 
 trembled as she remembered that it probably contained 
 the destiny of her life, while with the other she caressed 
 Mirza, who, standing on her hind-legs, appeared delighted 
 at having become so important a personage. Bathilde 
 opened the letter, and looked at it twice without being 
 able to decipher a single line. There was a mist before 
 her eyes. 
 
COUNTERPLOTS. 331 
 
 The letter, while it said a great deal, did not say quite 
 enough. It protested innocence and asked for pardon ; 
 it spoke of strange circumstances requiring secrecy ; but, 
 above all, it said that the writer was madly in love. The 
 result was that, without completely reassuring her, it yet 
 did her good. 
 
 Bathilde, however, with a remnant of pride, determined 
 not to relent till the next day ; since Raoul confessed 
 himself guilty, he should be punished. She did not re- 
 member that half of this punishment would recoil upon 
 herself. The effect of the letter, incomplete as it was, 
 was such that when Buvat returned from the terrace he 
 thought Bathilde looked infinitely better than when he 
 had left her an hour before. Her color had returned; 
 her cheerful manner was more genuine ; and her speech 
 was no longer abrupt and nervous, as it had been since 
 the day before. He began, therefore, to believe what she 
 herself had told him in the morning, that her agitation 
 was the result of her excited state the day before ; and at 
 eight o'clock he mounted to his room, leaving Bathilde, 
 who complained of having been kept up the night before 
 till three o'clock in the morning, to retire whenever she 
 liked. 
 
 But Bathilde, notwithstanding her wakefulness on the 
 preceding night, had not the least inclination to sleep; 
 she sat up for a long time, contented and happy, for she 
 knew that her neighbor's window was open, and by this 
 persistence she understood his anxiety. Two or three 
 times she was inclined to tranquillize his mind by going 
 to him with the assurance that if he would give her any 
 explanation whatever his pardon would be freely accorded ; 
 but it seemed to her that thus to present herself to Raoul 
 was more than a young girl in her position ought to do. 
 She therefore postponed the matter to the next day 
 
332 LE CHEVALIER D'HARMENTAL. 
 
 That night she dreamed that Raoul was at her feet, and 
 that he gave her such good reasons for his conduct that 
 it was she, in her turn, who asked for pardon. 
 
 Thus in the morning she awoke convinced that she had 
 been dreadfully severe, and wondering how she could 
 have had the courage to make poor Raoul suffer so much. 
 And therefore her first movement was to run to the 
 window and open it ; but perceiving, through an almost 
 imperceptible opening, the young man at his window, 
 she stopped short. Would not this be too complete an 
 avowal 1 It would be better to wait for Nanette ; she 
 would open the window quite as a matter of course, and, 
 opened thus by her, it would afford her neighbor no 
 ground to plume himself on his share in the matter. 
 
 Nanette arrived; but she had been too much scolded 
 the day before about this window to risk being scolded a 
 second time. She went about her work without saying 
 a word in regard to the admission of fresh air ; and when 
 she went out she had not touched even the curtains. 
 Bathilde was ready to cry. 
 
 Buvat came down as usual to take his coffee with 
 Bathilde. She hoped that he at least would ask why 
 she kept herself so shut up; and upon that she inight 
 ask him to open the window. Buvat, however, had 
 received a new order for the classification of some manu- 
 scripts, and was so preoccupied that he finished his 
 coffee and left the room without once remarking that 
 the curtains were closed. 
 
 For the first time Bathilde felt almost angry with him, 
 and thought he must have paid her very little attention 
 not to discover that she must be half stifled in such a 
 close room. What was she to do 1 Tell Nanette to open 
 the window? She would not do it. Open it herself she 
 could not. She must then wait; but till when? Till 
 
COUNTERPLOTS. 333 
 
 the next day, or the day after perhaps, and what would 
 Eaoul think? Would he not become impatient at this 
 exaggerated severity ? Suppose he should again leave for 
 a fortnight, for a month, for six weeks, for ever? Ba- 
 thilde would die ; she could not live without Raoul. 
 
 Two hours passed thus ; Bathilde tried everything, her 
 embroidery, her harpsichord, her drawing, but she could 
 do nothing. Nanette came in ; a slight hope returned to 
 her. But Nanette wished only to ask leave to go out. 
 Bathilde signed to her that she could go. She was going 
 to the Faubourg St. Antoinej she would be away, then, 
 at least two hours. What was Bathilde to do during 
 these two hours? It would have been so delightful to 
 pass them at the window. 
 
 Bathilde sat down and drew out the letter ; she knew 
 it by. heart, but yet she read it again. How had she 
 refrained from surrendering at once on receiving such a 
 letter as that? It was so tender, so passionate, so evi- 
 dently from the heart. Oh, if she could receive a second 
 letter ! This was an idea ; she looked at Mirza, the grace- 
 ful little messenger ; she took her in her arms, and then, 
 trembling as if she were about to commit a crime, she 
 went to open the outer door. A young man was stand- 
 ing before this door reaching out his hand toward the 
 bell. Bathilde uttered a cry of joy, and the young man 
 a cry of love. That young man was Raoul. 
 
334: LE CHEVALIER D'HARMENTAL. 
 
 CHAPTEK XXX. 
 
 THE SEVENTH HEAVEN. 
 
 Bathilde made some steps backward, for she had nearly 
 fallen into Raoul's arms. Eaoul, having shut the door, 
 followed Bathilde into the room. Their two names, ex- 
 changed in a double cry, escaped their lips. Their hands 
 met in an electric clasp, and all was forgotten. These 
 two, who had so much to say, stood with their hearts 
 beating almost against each other, and said nothing. 
 Their souls had passed into their eyes, and spoke with 
 the grand voice of silence, which, in love, says so many 
 things, and which has this advantage over the other voice, 
 — that it never lies. 
 
 Thus they remained for some minutes. At length 
 Bathilde felt the tears coming into her eyes ; she sighed, 
 and throwing back her head as if to recover her breath, 
 she said, u Oh, mon Dieu ! mon Dieu I how I have 
 suffered ! " 
 
 " And have not I % " said D'Harmental, — " I, who 
 have appeared to you guilty, and am yet innocent ! " 
 
 " Innocent ! " cried Bathilde, to whom, by a natural 
 reaction, all her doubts returned. 
 
 " Yes, innocent," replied the chevalier. 
 
 And then he told Bathilde all that he had a right to 
 tell her, — that is to say, his duel with Lafare ; how he 
 had, after that, hidden in the Rue du Temps-Perdu j how 
 he had seen Bathilde, and loved her; his astonishment 
 
THE SEVENTH HEAVEN. 335 
 
 at discovering successively in her the elegant woman, the 
 skilful painter, the accomplished musician ; his joy when 
 he "began to think that she was not wholly indifferent to 
 him. Then he told her how he had received, as colonel 
 of carabineers, the order to go to Bretagne, and on his 
 return had been obliged to render an account of his mis- 
 sion to the Duchesse du Maine before returning to Paris. 
 He had gone directly to Sceaux, expecting only to leave 
 his despatches in passing, when he had found himself 
 in the midst of the fete, in which he had been obliged 
 unwillingly to take a part. This recital was concluded by 
 expressions of regret, and such protestations of fidelity 
 \ind love that Bathilde almost forgot the beginning of his 
 discourse in listening to the end. 
 
 It was now her turn. She also had a long history to 
 tell D'Harmental; but in it there were no reserves or 
 obscurities. It was the history, not of an epoch in her 
 life, but of all her life. With a certain pride in proving 
 to her lover that she was worthy of him, she showed her- 
 self as a child caressed by her father and mother, then 
 an orphan and abandoned ; then appeared Buvat, with his 
 plain face and his sublime heart, and she spoke of all 
 his attentions, all his kindness, all his love for his poor 
 pupil. She passed in review her careless childhood and 
 her pensive youth ; then she arrived at the time when she 
 first saw D'Harmental, and when she reached that point 
 she smiled, blushing, for she was very sure that there was 
 nothing further which she needed to tell him. 
 
 But she was mistaken. That which Bathilde thought 
 she had no need to recount to the chevalier was precisely 
 what the chevalier insisted on hearing from her own lips, 
 without the omission of a single detail. In vain the poor 
 child paused, blushed, lowered her eyes j she was obliged 
 to open her virginal heart, virile D'Harmental, on his 
 
336 LE CHEVALIER D'HARMENTAL. 
 
 knees before her, listened to her smallest words. And 
 when she was through, she must begin again ; for D'Har- 
 mental could not weary of hearing, — so happy was he in 
 finding himself loved by Bathilde, and so proud of his 
 love for her. 
 
 Two hours slipped by like two seconds, and they were 
 still there when some one rang at the door. Bathilde 
 looked at the clock which was in the corner of the room ; 
 it was six minutes past four. The knocking could mean 
 but one thing, — Buvat's return. Bathilde's first move- 
 ment was one of fear ; but Eaoul reassured her, smiling, 
 for he had the pretext with which the Abbe Brigaud had 
 furnished him. The two lovers exchanged a last grasp 
 of the hand, then Bathilde went to open the door to her 
 guardian, who, as usual, kissed her on the forehead, then, 
 on entering the room, perceived D'Harmental. Buvat was 
 astounded ; he had never before found any man with his 
 pupil. He fixed on D'Harmental his astonished eyes 
 and waited ; he fancied he had seen the young man 
 before. D'Harmental advanced toward him with that 
 ease of which people of a certain class have not even 
 an idea. 
 
 " It is to Monsieur Buvat," he said, " that I have the 
 honor of speaking "? " 
 
 "To myself, Monsieur," said Buvat, starting at the 
 sound of the voice, which he thought he recognized ; 
 " but the honor is on my side." 
 
 " You know the Abbe Brigaud ? " asked D'Harmental. 
 
 " Yes, perfectly, Monsieur ; the — the — the — of 
 Madame Denis, is he not ? " 
 
 " Yes," replied D'Harmental, smiling ; " the confessor 
 of Madame Denis." 
 
 " Yes, I know him, — a clever man, Monsieur, a clever 
 man." 
 
THE SEVENTH HEAVEN. 337 
 
 " Did you not once apply to him to get some copying 
 to do J " 
 
 " Yes, Monsieur, for I am a copyist, at your service." 
 
 "Well," said D'Harmental, "this dear Abbe Brigaud, 
 who is my guardian, — that you may know, Monsieur, to 
 whom you are speaking, — has found an excellent cus- 
 tomer for you." 
 
 " Ah, really 1 Take a seat, Monsieur." 
 
 " Thank you." 
 
 " And who is this customer, if you please?" 
 
 " The Prince de Listhnay, Rue du Bac, 110." 
 
 " A prince, Monsieur ! a prince % " 
 
 " Yes ; a Spaniard, who is in correspondence with the 
 1 Mercure de Madrid/ and sends all the news from Paris." 
 
 " Why, it is a godsend, that, Monsieur ! " 
 
 " A godsend indeed, as you say. It will give you some 
 trouble, however, for all the despatches are in Spanish." 
 
 " Diable!" said Bu vat. 
 
 " Do you know Spanish 1 " asked D'Harmental. 
 
 " No, Monsieur ; I do not think so, at least." 
 
 " Never mind," continued the chevalier, smiling at 
 Buvat's uncertainty ; " one need not know a language to 
 make copies in that language." 
 
 " I could copy Chinese, Monsieur ; caligraphy, like draw- 
 ing, is an imitative art." 
 
 "And I know that in this respect, Monsieur Buvat," 
 replied D'Harmental, "you are a great artist." 
 
 " Monsieur," said Buvat, " you embarrass me. May 
 I ask, without indiscretion, at what time I shall find his 
 Highness 1 " 
 
 "What Highness?" 
 
 " His Highness the Prince de — I don't remember 
 the name you mentioned, Monsieur — which you did me 
 the honor to mention," added Buvat, correcting himself. 
 
 22 
 
338 LE CHEVALIER D'HARMENTAL. 
 
 " Ah, the Prince de Listhnay." 
 
 44 That is it." 
 
 " He is not Highness, my dear Monsieur Buvat." 
 
 " Pardon, I thought all princes — " 
 
 " Oh, there are princes and princes. This is a prince 
 of the third order, and he will be quite satisfied if you 
 call him Monseigneur." 
 
 " You think so % " 
 
 " I am sure of it." 
 
 " And when shall I find him, if you please ? " 
 
 " Why, in an hour from now, if you wish, — after your 
 dinner, for example, from five to half-past five. You re- 
 member the address 1 " 
 
 "Yes; Rue du Bac, 110. Very good, Monsieur; very 
 good. I will be there." 
 
 " Now," said D'Harmental, " au revoir ! And you, 
 Mademoiselle," he added, turning to Bathilde, " receive 
 my thanks for your kindness in keeping me company 
 while I waited for Monsieur Buvat, a kindness for which, 
 I assure you, I shall be eternally grateful." 
 
 And D'Harmental took his leave, while Bathilde re- 
 mained astonished at the ease and assurance which his 
 experience in similar situations had given him. 
 
 " This young man is really very amiable/' said Buvat. 
 
 "Yes, very," said Bathilde, mechanically. 
 
 " But it is an extraordinary thing ; I think I have seen 
 him before." 
 
 " It is possible," said Bathilde. 
 
 " And his voice ; I am sure I know his voice." 
 
 Bathilde started ; for she remembered the evening when 
 Buvat had returned frightened from the adventure in the 
 Rue des Bons-Enfans, and D'Harmental had not spoken 
 of that adventure. At this moment Nanette entered, an- 
 nouncing dinner. Buvat, who was eager for his interview 
 
THE SEVENTH HEAVEN. 339 
 
 with the Prince de Listhnay, went first into the dining' 
 room. 
 
 "Well, Mademoiselle," said Nanette, softly, "the hand- 
 some young man came, then, after alH " 
 
 "Yes, Nanette, yes," answered Bathilde, raising her 
 eyes to heaven with an expression of infinite gratitude ; 
 " and I am very happy." 
 
 She passed on into the dining-room, where Buvat, who 
 had put his hat on his cane and his cane in a corner, was 
 waiting for her, and slapping his thighs with his hands, as 
 was his custom in his moments of extreme satisfaction. 
 
 As to D'Harmental, he was no less happy than Bathilde. 
 He was loved, — he was sure of it ; Bathilde had told 
 him so, with the same pleasure she had felt on hearing 
 him make the same declaration. He was loved, not by 
 a poor orphan, not by a little grisette, but by a young 
 daughter of the nobility, whose father and mother had 
 occupied an honorable position at court. There were, 
 then, no obstacles to their union ; if there remained some 
 difference of rank between them, it was so slight that 
 Bathilde needed to ascend but a single step, and D'Har- 
 mental to descend a single step, and they would meet 
 midway. It is true that D'Harmental forgot one thing, — 
 the secret which, because it was not his own, he thought 
 himself obliged to withhold from Bathilde ; that conspir- 
 acy which hollowed under his feet an abyss which might 
 engulf him at any moment. But D'Harmental was not 
 thinking of such things. He was sure that he was loved, 
 and the sun of love gave to his sad and desolate life a 
 rose-colored horizon. 
 
 As to- Bathilde, she was troubled by no doubts about 
 the future. It is true no word of marriage had been 
 spoken between her and D'Harmental; but their hearts 
 had been manifest to each other in all their purity, and 
 
340 LE CHEVALIER D'HARMENTAL. 
 
 no written contract of marriage could be worth so much 
 as a look from Raoul's eyes, and the pressure of his hands. 
 And so when, after dinner, Buvat, congratulating himself 
 on the prize that had fallen to him, took his hat and cane 
 to go to the Prince de Listhnay's, she first fell on her 
 knees to thank God, and then, without hesitation, went 
 to open the window so long closed. D'Harmental was 
 still at his. They had very soon settled their plans, and 
 taken Nanette into their confidence. Every day when 
 Buvat was gone, D'Harmental was to come and stay two 
 hours with Bathilde. The rest of the time would be 
 passed at the windows, or, if by chance these must 
 be closed, they would write to each other. Toward seven 
 o'clock they saw Buvat turning the corner of the Rue 
 Montmartre ; he carried a roll of paper in one hand, and 
 his cane in the other, and by his important air, it w r as 
 easy to see that he had spoken to the prince himself. 
 D'Harmental closed his window. 
 
 Bathilde had feared that this story of the Prince de 
 Listhnay was only an invention to explain D'HarmentaPs 
 presence. Having had no chance to ask for an explana- 
 tion, and not daring to dissuade Buvat from going to the 
 Rue du Bac, she had witnessed his departure with a cer- 
 tain degree of remorse. She loved Buvat with all the 
 gratitude of her heart. He was to her an object of sacred 
 veneration, to be forever shielded from ridicule. She 
 therefore awaited his return with anxiety, that she might 
 infer from the expression of his face what had happened. 
 Buvat's face was glowing. 
 
 "Well, little father]" said Bathilde, with lingering 
 apprehension. 
 
 " "Well," replied Buvat, " I have seen his Highness." 
 
 "But, pardon, little father," she said, smiling; "you 
 know that Monsieur Raoul said the Prince de Listhnay 
 
THE SEVENTH HEAVEN. 341 
 
 has no right to that title, since he is only a prince of the 
 third order." 
 
 " I guarantee him of the first," said Buvat. " Sabre de 
 boisl a man of five feet ten, who throws his money about, 
 and pays for copies at fifteen francs the page, and has 
 given twenty-five louis in advance. A prince of the third 
 order ! I should think so ! " 
 
 Then another fear came into Bathilde's mind, — that 
 this pretended customer, whom Raoul had found for Bu- 
 vat, was only a pretext to induce him to accept money, 
 which he might think he had earned. This fear had 
 in it something humiliating and oppressive. Bathilde 
 turned her eyes toward D'Harmental's window, but she 
 saw D'Harmental looking at her with so much love that 
 she thought of nothing but of looking at him in return, 
 which she did with such eagerness that Buvat came for- 
 ward to see what was attracting her attention. But 
 D'Harmental, seeing him, let fall the curtain, and the 
 good man's curiosity remained unsatisfied. 
 
 " So, then, little father," said Bathilde, wishing to turn 
 off his attention, " you are content 1 " 
 
 " Quite ; but I must tell you one thing." 
 
 " What is it 1 " 
 
 " You remember that I told you that I thought I recog- 
 nized the face and voice of this young man, but could not 
 tell you where I had seen and heard them 1 " 
 
 " Yes, you told me so." 
 
 " Well, it suddenly struck me to-day, as I was crossing 
 the Rue des Bons-Enfans, that it was the same young 
 man whom I saw on that terrible night of which I cannot 
 think without trembling." 
 
 " Really, little father' 1 " said Bathilde, trembling. 
 " Oh, what folly ! " 
 
 " Yes, what folly ! for I was on the point of returning. 
 
342 LE CHEVALIER D'HARMENTAL. 
 
 I thought this Prince de Listhnay might be some brigand 
 chief, and that they were going to entice me into a 
 cavern. But as I never carry any money, I concluded 
 that my fears were exaggerated, and fortunately I over' 
 came them by force of reason." 
 
 " And now, little father, you are satisfied, are you not," 
 replied Bathilde, " that this poor young man, who came 
 here this afternoon in behalf of the Abbe Brigaud, has no 
 connection with him to whom you spoke in the Rue des 
 Bons-Enfans?" 
 
 "Certainly. A captain of thieves could have no con- 
 nection with his Highness." 
 
 " Oh, that would be impossible ! " said Bathilde. 
 
 " Yes, that would be impossible. But I am forgetting. 
 My child, you must excuse me if I do not stay with you 
 this evening. I promised his Highness that I would go 
 to work at once, and I must keep my promise. Good- 
 night, my dear child." 
 
 "Good-night, little father." 
 
 Buvat went up to his room, where he immediately 
 applied himself to the task for which the Prince de 
 Listhnay had so liberally paid him. 
 
 As to the lovers, they resumed the conversation inter- 
 rupted by Bu vat's return j and God only knows at what 
 hour the two windows were closed. 
 
FE*NELON'S SUCCESSOR. 343 J 
 
 CHAPTER XXXI. 
 
 fenelon's successor. 
 
 Thanks to the arrangements agreed upon between the 
 two lovers, which afforded to their love so long restrained 
 all the expansion possible, three or four days slipped by 
 like moments, during which they were the happiest beings 
 in the world. 
 
 But the earth, which seemed to them to be at a stand- 
 still, continued its revolutions, and the events which were 
 to waken them, at the moment when they least expected 
 interruption, were silently preparing. 
 
 The Due de Richelieu had kept his promise. The 
 Marechal de Villeroy, who had intended to remain a week 
 away from the Tuileries, was recalled on the fourth day 
 by a letter from his wife, who wrote to him that his 
 presence near the king was more than ever necessary, 
 the measles having declared itself at Paris, and having 
 already attacked several persons in the Palais Royal. 
 Monsieur de Villeroy came back directly ; for, it will be 
 remembered, all those successive deaths which three or 
 four years before had afflicted the kingdom had been 
 attributed to the measles, and the marshal would not lose 
 this opportunity of parading his vigilance. It was his 
 privilege, as governor of the king, never to leave him 
 except by an order from himself, and to remain with 
 him, whoever entered, even though it should be the 
 regent. It was especially with regard to the regent that 
 the marshal affected such extraordinary precaution ; and 
 
344 LE CHEVALIER D'HARMENTAL. 
 
 as this suited the hatred of Madame du Maine and her 
 party, they praised Monsieur de Yilleroy highly, and spread 
 abroad a report that he had found on the chimney-piece 
 of Louis XV. some poisoned bonbons which had been 
 placed there by some person unknown. 
 
 The result of all this was an increase of calumny against 
 the Due d'Orleans, and of importance on the part of the 
 marshal, who persuaded the young king that he owed him 
 his life. Through the force of that belief he acquired 
 great influence over the poor royal child, who, accustomed 
 to fear everything, had confidence in no one but Monsieur 
 de Villeroy and Monsieur de Frejus. 
 
 Monsieur de Yilleroy, then, was the man who was 
 needed to deliver the missives ;•" but such was the irreso- 
 lution of his character that he accepted the charge only 
 after considerable hesitation. It was finally arranged that 
 on the following Monday — a day when by reason of his 
 Sunday suppers the regent rarely visited the king — the 
 two letters of Philip V. should be sent to him, and then 
 Monsieur de Villeroy should profit by his solitude with 
 his pupil to make him sign the order for the convocation 
 of the States-General, and that it should be made public 
 the next day before the hour of the regent's visit, so that 
 there should be no way of drawing back. 
 
 While all these things were plotting against him, the 
 regent was leading his ordinary life in the midst of his 
 work, his studies, his pleasures, and his family bickerings. 
 As we have said, three of his daughters gave him serious 
 trouble. Madame de Berri, whom he loved the most, 
 because he had saved her when the most celebrated doc- 
 tors had given her up, throwing off all restraint, lived 
 publicly with Riom, whom, when reproached by her 
 father, she threatened to marry. A strange threat, but 
 which, if carried out, would have caused at that time, 
 
FENELON'S SUCCESSOR. 345 
 
 owing to the regard still cherished for the supremacy of 
 rank, far more scandal than the amours which at any 
 other time such a marriage would have sanctified. 
 
 Mademoiselle de Chartres persisted in her resolution to 
 become a nun, although she still, during her novitiate, 
 continued to enjoy all the pleasures she could manage to 
 introduce into the cloister. She had in her cell her guns 
 and pistols, and a magnificent assortment of fireworks, 
 which enabled her to give a pyrotechnic entertainment 
 to her young friends every evening. But she would not 
 leave the convent, where her father went every Wednes- 
 day to visit her. 
 
 The third person of the family who gave him uneasiness 
 was Mademoiselle de Valois, whom he suspected of being 
 Richelieu's mistress, but without ever being able to obtain 
 eertain proof, although he had put his police on the watch, 
 and had himself more than once paid her visits at hours 
 when he thought it most probable he should meet the 
 duke. These suspicions were increased by her refusal to 
 marry the Prince de Dombes, — an excellent match, en- 
 riched as he was by the spoils of La Grande Mademoiselle. 
 The regent had seized a new opportunity of assuring him- 
 self whether this refusal was due to her antipathy to the 
 young prince or to her love for the duke, by welcoming 
 the overtures which Pleneuf, his ambassador at Turin, had 
 made for a marriage between the beautiful Charlotte Aglae 
 and the Prince de Piemont. Mademoiselle de Valois re- 
 belled again, but this time in vain ; the regent, departing 
 from his usual good-natured indulgence, this time insisted, 
 and the poor lovers lost all hope, when an unexpected 
 event broke off the negotiations. Madame, the mother of 
 the regent, with her German frankness, had written to the 
 Queen of Sicily, one of her most constant correspondents, 
 that she loved her too much not to warn her that the 
 
346 LE CHEVALIER D'HARMENTAL. 
 
 princess who was destined for the young prince had a 
 lover, and that that lover was the Due de Richelieu. It 
 may be supposed that this declaration put an end to the 
 scheme. 
 
 The regent was at first exceedingly angry at this result 
 of his mother's mania for writing letters; but he was not 
 a man to persist long in an angry mood, and presently he 
 was able to laugh at this latest epistolary escapade of Ma- 
 dame. And besides, at this time his attention was called 
 to another very important matter ; namely, Dubois's claim 
 to be made an archbishop. 
 
 We have seen that, on Dubois's return from London, 
 the affair had first been broached under the form of a 
 joke, and how the regent had received the recommenda- 
 tion of the English king. But Dubois was not a man to 
 be beaten by a first refusal. Cambrai was vacant by the 
 death of the Cardinal la Tremouille, and was one of the 
 richest archbishoprics in the Church. A hundred and 
 fifty thousand francs a year were attached to it ; and it 
 was difficult to say whether Dubois was most tempted 
 by the title of successor to Fenelon, or by the rich 
 benefice attached to it. 
 
 Dubois, on the first opportunity, brought up the sub- 
 ject of the archbishopric. The regent again tried to turn 
 it off with a joke, but Dubois became more positive and 
 more pressing. The regent was unable to endure weari- 
 ness, and Dubois began to weary him by his persistence ; 
 therefore, to dispose of him once for all, he challenged 
 Dubois to find a prelate who would consecrate him. 
 
 " Is that all ? " cried Dubois, joyously j " I have him 
 within easy reach." 
 
 " Impossible ! " said the regent, who did not believe 
 the sycophancy of man could go to such lengths as 
 that. 
 
FENELON'S SUCCESSOR. 347 
 
 " You will see," said Dubois ; and he ran out. In five 
 minutes he returned. 
 
 " Well 1 " asked the regent. 
 
 " Well," answered Dubois, " I have secured our man." 
 
 "And who is the scoundrel who is willing to consecrate 
 a fellow like you 1 " 
 
 " Your first almoner, Monseigneur." 
 
 "The Bishop of Nantes?" 
 
 " Neither more nor less." 
 
 " Tressan ! " 
 
 " Himself." 
 
 " Impossible ! " 
 
 u Here he is." 
 
 And at this moment the door was opened, and the 
 Bishop of Nantes was announced. 
 
 " Come, Monsieur, come ! " cried Dubois, running to 
 him ; " his royal Highness honors us both in naming me 
 Archbishop of Cambrai, and in choosing you to consecrate 
 me." 
 
 "Monsieur de Nantes," asked the regent, "is it true 
 that you consent to make the abbe an archbishop?" 
 
 " Your Highness's wishes are commands for me, Mon- 
 seigneur." 
 
 " But you know that he is neither sub-deacon, deacon, 
 nor priest." 
 
 " Never mind, Monseigneur," cried Dubois, " here is 
 Monsieur de Nantes, who will tell you that all these 
 orders may be conferred in a day." 
 
 " But there is no example of such a thing." 
 
 " Yes, — Saint Ambroise." 
 
 " Then, my dear Abbe," said the regent, laughing, " if 
 you have all the fathers of the Church with you, I have 
 nothing more to say, and I abandon you to Monsieur de 
 Tressan." 
 
348 LE CHEVALIER D'HARMENTAL. 
 
 " I will give him back to you with the cross and mitre, 
 Monseignenr." 
 
 " But you must have the grade of licentiate," continued 
 the regent, who began to be amused at the discussion. 
 
 " I have a promise from the University of Orleans." 
 
 " But you must have attestations." 
 
 " Is there not Besons 1 " 
 
 " A certificate of good life and manners." 
 
 " I will have one signed by Noailles." 
 
 " No ; there I defy you, Abbe." 
 
 " Then your Highness will give me one. The signature 
 of the regent of France must have as much weight at 
 Koine as that of a wicked cardinal." 
 
 " Dubois," said the regent, " a little more respect, if 
 you please, for the princes of the Church." 
 
 "You are right, Monseigneur. There is no saying 
 what one may become." 
 
 " You a cardinal ! " cried the regent, laughing. 
 
 " Since your Highness will not give me the blue rib- 
 bon," said Dubois, " I must content myself with the red, 
 until I can do better." 
 
 "Better! Cardinal!" 
 
 " Stay ! why should I not some day be Pope 1 " 
 
 " True, Borgia was a pope." 
 
 " May God give us both a long life, Monseigneur, and 
 you will see that and many other things." 
 
 " Pardieu!" said the regent, "you know that I laugh 
 at death." 
 
 " Alas ! too much." 
 
 " Well, you will make a poltroon of me by curiosity." 
 
 " There would be no harm in that ; and to begin, 
 Monseigneur would do well to discontinue his nocturnal 
 excursions." 
 
 "Why?" 
 
FfiNELON'S SUCCESSOK. 349 
 
   In the first place, because they endanger his life." 
 
 "What does that matter?" 
 
 " Then for another reason." 
 
 "What?" 
 
 "Because," said Dubois, assuming a hypocritical air, 
 "they are a subject of scandal for the Church." 
 
 "Go to the devil!" 
 
 " You see, Monsieur, " said Dubois, turning to Tressan, 
 "in the midst of what libertines and hardened sinners 
 I am obliged to live. I hope that your Eminence will 
 consider my position, and will not be too severe upon 
 me." 
 
 " We will do our best, Monseigneur," said Tressan. 
 
 " And when 1 " asked Dubois, who was unwilling to lose 
 an hour. 
 
 " As soon as you are ready." 
 
 " I ask for three days." 
 
 " Very well ; on the fourth I will be at your orders." 
 
 " To-day is Saturday ; on Wednesday, then." 
 
 " On Wednesday," answered Tressan. 
 
 " Only I warn you beforehand, Abbe," said the regent, 
 " that one person of some importance will be absent at 
 your consecration." 
 
 " And who will dare to do me that injury 1 " 
 
 " I shall." 
 
 " You, Monseigneur ! You will be there, and in your 
 official gallery." 
 
 " I say that I will not." 
 
 " I bet a thousand louis." 
 
 " And I give you my word of honor." 
 
 " I double my bet." 
 
 "Insolent!" 
 
 "Till Wednesday, Monsieur de Tressan; till my con- 
 secration, Monseigneur." And Dubois left the room 
 
350 LE CHEVALIER D'HARMENTAL. 
 
 highly delighted, and spread about everywhere the news 
 of his nomination. 
 
 But Dubois was wrong on one point; namely, the 
 adhesion of the Cardinal de Noailles. No menace or 
 promise could draw from him the attestation to good life 
 and morals which Dubois nattered himself he should 
 obtain at his hands. It is true that he was the only 
 one who dared to make this holy and noble opposition to 
 the scandal with which the Church was menaced. The 
 University of Orleans gave the licenses, and everything 
 was ready on the appointed day. Dubois left at five ' 
 o'clock in the morning, in a hunting-dress, for Pontoise, 
 where he found Monsieur de Tressan, who, according to 
 his promise, bestowed on him the sub-deaconship, the 
 deaconship, and the priesthood. At twelve all was fin- 
 ished ; and at four, after having attended the regent's 
 council, which was held at the old Louvre in consequence 
 of the measles having, as we have said, attacked the Tuile- 
 ries, Dubois returned home in the dress of an archbishop. 
 
 The first person whom he saw in his room was La 
 Fillon. In her double capacity, as agent of his secret 
 police and of his public loves, she had admittance to his 
 room at all hours ; and in spite of the solemnity of the 
 day, as she had said that she had business of importance 
 to communicate, they had not dared to refuse her. 
 
 " Ah ! " cried Dubois, on perceiving his old friend, " a 
 lucky meeting." 
 
 " Pardieuf my dear gossip," answered La Fillon, "if 
 you are ungrateful enough to forget your old friends, I 
 am not stupid enough to forget mine, particularly when 
 they rise in the world." 
 
 " Ah ! tell me," said Dubois, beginning to pull off his 
 sacerdotal ornaments, "do you count on continuing to call 
 me your gossip now that I am an archbishop 1 " 
 
351 
 
 " More than ever. And I count on it so strongly that 
 the first time the regent enters my house I shall ask him 
 for an abbey, that we may still be on an equality one 
 with the other." 
 
 " He comes to your house, then 1 The libertine ! " 
 
 "Alas ! no longer for me, my dear gossip. Ah, the good 
 time is passed ! But I hope that, thanks to you, it will 
 return, and that the house will feel your elevation." 
 
 " Oh, my poor gossip ! " said Dubois, stooping down in 
 order that La Fillon might unclasp his frock, " you see 
 that now things are much changed, and that I can no 
 longer visit you as I used to." 
 
 " You are proud. Philippe comes there." 
 
 " Philippe is only regent of France, and I am an arch- 
 bishop. Do you understand 1 I want a mistress in her 
 own house, where I can go without scandal, — like Ma- 
 dame de Tencin, for example." 
 
 " Yes, who will deceive you for Richelieu." 
 
 "And how do you know that she will not deceive 
 Richelieu for rue?" 
 
 " Oh, very good ! And will she do double tasks, per- 
 chance 1 Will she perform both the services of love and 
 those of the police?" 
 
 "Perhaps. But speaking. of police," answered Dubois, 
 continuing to undress, "do you know that yours have 
 slept infernally during three or four months, and that if 
 this continues I shall be obliged to withdraw your 
 stipend." 
 
 " Ah, coward ! " cried La Fillon ; " this is the way you 
 treat your old friends. I came to make a revelation; 
 well, you shall not have it." 
 
 " A revelation ! and what about 1 " 
 
 " Pshaw ! take away my pay, — scoundrel that you are ! " 
 
 " Is it a matter relating to Spain 1 " asked the arch- 
 
352 LE CHEVALIER D'HARMENTAL. 
 
 bishop, frowning, and feeling instinctively that the danger 
 came from that quarter. 
 
 "It relates to nothing at all. Good-evening." And 
 La Fillon made toward the door. 
 
 " Come here," said Dubois, stepping toward his desk ; 
 and the two old friends, who understood each other so 
 well, looked at each other and laughed. 
 
 " Come, come," said La Fillon, " I see that all is not 
 lost, and that there is yet some good in you. Come, open 
 this little desk and show me what it contains, and I will 
 open my mouth and show you what I have in my heart." 
 
 Dubois took out a rouleau of a hundred louis, and 
 showed it to La Fillon. 
 
 " How much is it 1 " said she. " Come, tell the truth ; 
 however, I shall count after you, to be sure." 
 
 " Two thousand four hundred francs ; that is a pretty 
 penny, it seems to me." 
 
 " Yes, for an abbe, but not for an archbishop." 
 
 " Do you not know to what an extent the finances are 
 involved 1 " 
 
 " Well, what does that matter, you humbug, when Law 
 is going to make millions for us 1 " 
 
 "Would you like in exchange ten thousand francs in 
 Mississippi bonds 1 " 
 
 " Thanks, my dear, I prefer the hundred louis. Give 
 them to me ; I am a good woman, and another day you 
 will be more generous." 
 
 " Well, what have you to tell me 1 Come ! " 
 
 " First promise me one thing." 
 
 "What is it V 
 
 " That as the matter concerns an old friend of mine, he 
 shall come to no harm." 
 
 " But if your old friend is a beggar who deserves to be 
 hanged, why the devil should you cheat him of his due?" 
 
FJiJNELON'S SUCCESSOR. 353 
 
 "I have my own reasons." 
 
 " Go along ; I promise nothing." 
 
 " Well, good-evening, then. Here are the hundred 
 louis." 
 
 " Ah, you are getting scrupulous all at once ! " 
 
 " Not at all ; but I am under obligations to this man. 
 He started me in the world." 
 
 " He may boast of having done a good thing for society 
 that day." 
 
 " Bather, my friend ; and he shall never have cause to 
 repent it, for I will not speak a word to-day unless his 
 life is safe." 
 
 "Well, safe it shall be, I promise you. Are you 
 content ? " 
 
 " By what do you promise it to me 1 " 
 
 " On the faith of an honest man." 
 
 " Ah, you are going to deceive me." 
 
 " Do you know that you are very tiresome 1 " 
 
 " Oh ! I am very tiresome. Well, good-by." 
 
 "Gossip, I will have you arrested." 
 
 "What do I care?" 
 
 " You shall be sent to prison." 
 
 " That is a good joke." 
 
 " I will leave you there to rot." 
 
 "Till you rot yourself; that will not be a long time." 
 
 " Well, what do you want 1 " 
 
 "My captain's life." 
 
 "You shall have it." 
 
 " On what faith 1 " 
 
 " On the faith of an archbishop." 
 
 "I want a better." 
 
 "On the faith of an abbe\" 
 
 "Better still." 
 
 " On the faith of Dubois." 
 23 
 
354 LE CHEVALTER D'HARMENTAL. 
 
 " That will do. First, I must tell you that my captain 
 is the most threadbare captain in the kingdom." 
 
 " Diable / there is some competition, however." 
 
 " True ; but he takes the prize." 
 
 " Continue." 
 
 "Well, you must know that lately my captain has 
 become as rich as Croesus." 
 
 " He must have robbed some farmer-general." 
 
 " Incapable. Killed, maybe, but robbed 1 — what do 
 you take him for I " 
 
 "Well, then, where do you think he gets that money 1" 
 
 " Do you know the different coinages 1 " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 "Where does this come from, then?" 
 
 " Ah, ah, Spanish doubloons ! " 
 
 " And without alloy, with the effigy of King Charles II. 
 Doubloons which are worth forty-eight francs if they are 
 worth a penny, and which run from his pockets like a 
 stream, poor dear fellow ! " 
 
 u And when did your captain begin to sweat gold like 
 that 1 " 
 
 " The day after the regent was nearly carried off in the 
 Hue des Bons-Enfans. Do you understand the apologue, 
 gossip 1 " 
 
 " Yes ; and why have you not told me before to-day 1 " 
 
 " Because his pockets were full then. They are now 
 nearly empty ; and it is a good time to find out where he 
 ! goes to fill them." 
 
 " And you wished to give him time to empty them 1 " 
 
 "Well, all the world must live." 
 
 " And so they shall ; even your captain. But you 
 V understand that I must know what he does 1 " 
 
 " Day by day." 
 
 " And which of your girls does he love ? " 
 
F^NELON'S SUCCESSOR. 355 
 
 " All, when he has money." 
 
 " And when he has none 1 " 
 
 " La Norniande ; she is his true friend." 
 
 " I know her ; she is as sharp as a needle." 
 
 "Yes; but you must not reckon on her." 
 
 " Why not 1 " 
 
 " She loves him, the little fool." 
 
 " Ah, he is a lucky fellow ! " 
 
 " And he merits it. He has the heart of a prince ; he 
 is not like you, old miser." 
 
 " Oh, you know that sometimes I am more lavish than 
 the prodigal son, and it depends on you to give me occa- 
 sion to be so." 
 
 " I will do my best." 
 
 " Then day by day I shall know what your captain 
 does?" 
 
 " You shall." 
 
 " On what faith 1 " 
 
 " On the faith of an honest woman." 
 
 " Something better." 
 
 " On the faith of Fillon." 
 
 " That will do." 
 
 " Adieu, Monseigneur the Archbishop." 
 
 " Adieu, gossip." 
 
 La Fillon went toward the door, but as she was going 
 out an usher entered. 
 
 " Monseigneur," said he, " here is a man who wants to 
 speak to your Eminence." 
 
 "And who is he, idiot?" 
 
 " An employee of the royal library, who, in his spare 
 time, makes copies." 
 
 " And what does he want 1 " 
 
 " He says that he has an important revelation to make 
 to your Eminence." 
 
356 LE CHEVALIER D'HARMENTAL. 
 
 " Oh ! it is some poor fellow begging." 
 
 " No, Monseigneur • he says that it is a political affair." 
 
 " Diable! about what?" 
 
 "About Spain." 
 
 " Send him in ; and you, gossip, go into this closet." 
 
 "What for?" 
 
 " Suppose my writer and your captain should know 
 each other?" 
 
 "Ah, that would be droll." 
 
 "Come, get in quickly." 
 
 La Fillon entered the closet which Dubois showed her. 
 An instant afterward the usher opened the door and an- 
 nounced Monsieur Jean Buvat. 
 
 We must now show how this important personage came 
 to be received in private audience by the Archbishop of 
 Cambrai. 
 
THE PBINCE DE LISTHNAY'S ACCOMPLICE. 357 
 
 CHAPTER XXXII. 
 
 THE PRINCE DE LISTHNAY'S ACCOMPLICE. 
 
 We left Buvat going up to his own room, with his papers 
 in his hand, to fulfil his promise to the Prince de Listh- 
 nay ; and this promise was so scrupulously kept that by 
 seven o'clock the next evening the copy was finished and 
 taken to the Rue du Bac. He then received from the 
 same august hands some more work, which he returned 
 with the same punctuality ; so that the Prince de Listh- 
 nay, feeling confidence in a man who had given such 
 proofs of exactitude, took from his desk a package of 
 papers larger than the first two, and in order not to dis- 
 turb Buvat every day, and also, doubtless, that he might 
 not be disturbed himself, instructed him to return them 
 all at the same time, — which would involve an interval of 
 three or four days before Buvat should make his next visit. 
 Buvat was delighted with this mark of confidence, and 
 on his return set himself gayly to his work ; and although 
 he found that he did not understand a word of Spanish, 
 he could now read it easily, so that his work, being purely 
 mechanical, left him free to sing his little song, while at 
 the same time he continued copying his memorial. It 
 was therefore almost with a sense of disappointment that 
 on completing his copy of the first paper, he came to one 
 that was written wholly in French. He had become ac- 
 customed to the foreign language by his five days' work, 
 and to him every interruption of habit was annoying. 
 But Buvat, faithful to duty, made ready to go on scrupu- 
 
358 LE CHEVALIER D'HARMENTAL. 
 
 lously with his work; and although the paper was not 
 numbered, and had the appearance of having been slipped 
 in by mistake, he none the less resolved to copy it in its 
 turn, in accordance with the maxim, " Quod abundat nou 
 vitiat." He therefore renewed his pen by a light stroke 
 with his penknife, and began copying the following 
 words : — 
 
 " Confidential. 
 
 " For his Excellency Monsieur Alberoni in person. 
 
 " Nothing is more important than to make sure of the 
 places near the Pyrenees, and of the noblemen who reside in 
 those cantons." 
 
 " In those cantons," repeated Buvat ; then, taking a 
 hair from his pen, he continued : — 
 
 " To gain or master the garrison of Bayonne." 
 
 " What is that 1 " muttered Buvat. " Is not Bayonne 
 a French town 1 Let us see, — let us see ; " and he 
 continued : — 
 
 " The Marquis de P is governor of D . The inten- 
 tions of that nobleman are known. When it is decided, it 
 will be necessary for him to triple his expenditure, in order to 
 attract the aristocracy ; he ought to scatter rewards. 
 
 " In Normandy, Carentan is an important post. Pursue 
 the same course with the governor of that town as with the 
 
 Marquis of P ; go further: promise his officers suitable 
 
 rewards. 
 
 " Do the same in all the provinces." 
 
 " Eh ! what ! " said Buvat, re-reading what he had just 
 written ; " what does this mean 1 It seems to me that it 
 would be prudent to read it all before going further." 
 And he read as follows : — 
 
 " To supply this expenditure we must reckon on at least 
 three hundred thousand francs the first month, and after- 
 ward a hundred thousand per month, paid punctually." 
 
THE PRINCE DE LISTHNAY'S ACCOMPLICE. 359 
 
 " Paid punctually ! " murmured Buvat, breaking off. 
 " It is evidently not by France that these payments are 
 to be made, since France is so poor that she has not paid 
 me my nine hundred francs' salary for five years. Let us 
 see, — let us see ; " and he resumed : — 
 
 "That expenditure, which will cease when peace is estab- 
 lished, will enable his Catholic Majesty to act with certainty 
 in case of war. 
 
 " Spain will be only an auxiliary. The army of Philip V. 
 is in France." 
 
 "What! what! what!" said Buvat; "and I did not 
 even know that it had crossed the frontier." 
 
 " A body of about ten thousand Spaniards is more than 
 sufficient, with the presence of the king. But we must be 
 able to count on being able to seduce at least half of the Due 
 d'Orleans' army. This is most important, and cannot be done 
 without money. A present of one hundred thousand francs 
 is necessary for each battalion and squadron. Twenty bat- 
 talions would be two millions ; with that sum v one might form 
 a trustworthy army, and destroy that of the enemy. 
 
 "It is almost certain that the subjects most devoted to the 
 King of Spain will not be employed in the army which will 
 march against him. Let them disperse themselves through 
 the provinces; there they will act usefully. To restore to 
 them their standing, it may be necessary for his Catholic 
 Majesty to send orders in blank for his minister in Paris to fill. 
 
 "In consequence of the multiplicity of orders to be given, 
 it will be convenient for the ambassador to have authority to 
 sign for the King of Spain. 
 
 " It would be well, moreover, if his Catholic Majesty were 
 to sign his orders as a French prince; the title is his own. 
 
 " Prepare funds for an army of thirty thousand men, whom 
 his Majesty will find brave, skilful, and disciplined. 
 
 " This money should arrive in France by the last of May 
 or the first of June, and be distributed directly in the capitals 
 of provinces, such as Nantes, Bayonne, etc. 
 
360 LE CHEVALIER D'HARMENTAL. 
 
 " Do not allow the French ambassador to leave Spain. His 
 presence will answer for the safety of those who declare them- 
 selves." 1 
 
 " Sabre de bois ! " cried Buvat, rubbing his eyes ; " but 
 this is a conspiracy, — a conspiracy against the person of 
 the regent, and against the safety of the kingdom. Oh, 
 oh!" 
 
 Buvat fell into profound meditation. 
 
 Indeed, the position was critical. Buvat mixed up in a 
 conspiracy ! Buvat charged with a State secret ! Buvat 
 holding in his hands, perhaps, the fate of nations! Less 
 than this was needed to throw the worthy man into a 
 state of strange perplexity. 
 
 Thus seconds, minutes, hours, elapsed before Buvat, 
 who sat with his head leaning against the back of his 
 chair, and his eyes fixed on the ceiling, made the least 
 movement. From time to time, however, a deep breath 
 — like an expression of astonishment — escaped his breast. 
 Ten o'clock, eleven, midnight, sounded. Buvat thought 
 that sleep would bring him aid, and he determined to go 
 to bed. It is needless to say that his copying came to 
 an end when he saw that the original was assuming an 
 illegal character. 
 
 Buvat could not sleep ; the poor fellow tossed from 
 side to side, but whenever he closed his eyes he saw the 
 horrible plan of the conspiracy written upon the wall in 
 letters of fire. Once or twice, overcome by fatigue, he 
 fell asleep ; but he had no sooner lost consciousness than 
 he dreamed, — the first time that he was arrested by the 
 watch as an accomplice in the conspiracy; the second, 
 that he was stabbed by the conspirators themselves. The 
 first time Buvat awoke trembling ; the second time bathed 
 
 1 This document is copied literally from the original in the archives 
 of foreign affairs. 
 
THE PEINCE DE LISTHNAY'S ACCOMPLICE. 3G1 
 
 in perspiration. These two impressions had been so ter- 
 rible, that he lighted his candle, and determined to wait 
 for day, without another attempt to sleep. 
 
 The day came, bat far from dispelling the phantoms of 
 the night, it only gave them a more terrific reality. At 
 the least noise which he heard in the street Buvat 
 trembled. Some one knocked at the street-door, and 
 Buvat thought he should faint. Nanette opened the door 
 of his chamber, and he uttered a cry. Nanette ran to 
 him, and asked what was the matter; but he answered 
 only by shaking his head, and saying with a sigh, " Ah, 
 my poor Nanette, we live in very sad times." 
 
 He stopped directly, fearing he had said too much. 
 He was too preoccupied to go down to breakfast with 
 Bathilde. Besides, he feared lest the young girl should 
 perceive his uneasiness, and ask the cause ; and as he did 
 not know how to keep anything from her, he would have 
 told her all, and she would then have become his accom- 
 plice. He had his coffee sent up to him, under pretext 
 of having an overwhelming amount of work to do, and 
 that he was going to work during breakfast. As Ba- 
 thilde's love-affair found advantage in this absence, she 
 made no objection to it. 
 
 A few minutes before ten Buvat left for his office. 
 If his fears had been strong in his own house, it may 
 be easily understood that when he was in the street they 
 changed into terrors. At every crossing, at the end of 
 every court, behind every angle, he thought that he saw 
 agents of the police lying in wait, ready to take him by the 
 collar. At the corner of the Place des Victoires a musketeer 
 appeared, coming from the Eue Pagevin, and Buvat gave 
 such a start on seeing him that he almost fell under the 
 wheels of a carriage. At last, after many alarms, he 
 reached the library, bowed almost to the ground before 
 
362 LE CHEVALIER D'HARMENTAL. 
 
 the sentinel, darted up the stairs, gained his office, and 
 falling exhausted on his seat, he shut up in his drawer 
 all the papers of the Prince de Listlmay, which he had 
 brought with him for fear the police should search his 
 house during his absence. Finding himself in safety, he 
 heaved a sigh, which would not have failed to betray him 
 to his colleagues as being a prey to the greatest agitation, 
 if he had not, as usual, arrived before them. 
 
 Buvat had the idea that no personal preoccupation, 
 whether grave or gay, ought to disturb a clerk in the 
 execution of his duty. Therefore he applied himself to 
 his work, apparently as if nothing had happened, but really 
 in a state of moral perturbation impossible to describe. 
 
 This work consisted, as usual, in classifying and label- 
 ling books. A fire having broken out a few days pre- 
 viously in one of the halls of the library, three or four 
 thousand volumes had been carried out of reach of the 
 flames, and thrown down promiscuously on the floor, and 
 were now to be restored to their proper places. As it was 
 a particularly tedious business, Buvat had been selected 
 for it, and had hitherto acquitted himself with an in- 
 telligence and assiduity which had gained for him the 
 commendations of his superiors, and the raillery of his 
 colleagues. 
 
 In spite of the urgency of the work, Buvat rested some 
 minutes to recover himself; but as soon as he saw the 
 door open, and one of his colleagues enter and go to his 
 place, he rose instinctively, took a pen, dipped it in the 
 ink, took a handful of parchment labels, went toward 
 the remaining books, took the first which came to hand, 
 and continued his classification, muttering meanwhile, 
 according to his custom while thus employed : — 
 
 "'The Breviary of Lovers,' printed at Liege in 1712 ; 
 no printer's name. Ah, mon Dieu I what amusement can 
 
THE PRINCE DE LISTHNAY'S ACCOMPLICE. 363 
 
 Christians possibly find in reading such books ? It would 
 be better if they were all burned in the Place de Greve by 
 the hand of the public hangman ! — prrrouu ! why in the 
 devil do I think of him 1 Who, then, is this Prince de 
 Listhnay, who has made me copy such things, and who is the 
 young man who, under pretext of doing me a service, intro- 
 duced me to such a scoundrel 1 Come, come ! this is not 
 the place to think about that. How pleasant it is, writing 
 on parchment ! the pen glides as if over silk. What is 
 the next % * Angelique, or Secret Pleasures/ with illustra- 
 tions ; and what illustrations they are ! ' London/ Such 
 books should be forbidden to pass the frontier. A few 
 days from now there will be fine doings on the frontier. 
 ' Make sure of the places near the Pyrenees, and of the 
 noblemen who reside in those cantons.' It may be hoped 
 that places will not allow themselves to be taken like that. 
 What the devil ! there are still faithful subjects in France. 
 Ah, cursed prince ! May you be taken, hanged, quartered ! 
 But if on being arrested, he should denounce me ! Sabre 
 de bois ! it is possible." 
 
 "Well, Monsieur Buvat," said the head clerk, "and 
 what have you been doing for the last five minutes, with 
 your arms crossed, and your eyes rolling as if you were 
 frightened 1 " 
 
 " Nothing, Monsieur Ducoudray, nothing. I was plan- 
 ning a new mode of classification." 
 
 " A new mode of classification ! Are you turned re- 
 former? Do you wish to make a revolution, Monsieur 
 Buvat 1 " 
 
 " I ! a revolution ! " cried Buvat, with terror. " A rev- 
 olution, Monsieur ! — never, oh, never ! Thank God, my 
 devotion to Monseigneur le Regent is known, — a disin- 
 terested devotion, since he has not paid me for five years, 
 as you know ; and if ever I should have the misfortune 
 
364 LE CHEVALIER D'HARMENTAL. 
 
 to be accused of such a thing, I hope, Monsieur, that I 
 should find witnesses, friends, who would answer for me." 
 
 "^ry good, very good. Meantime, Monsieur Buvat, 
 go on with your work. You know that it is urgent. All 
 those books are in our way, and by four o'clock to-morrow 
 they must be on their shelves." 
 
 " They shall be, Monsieur, they shall be, though I spend 
 the night at it." 
 
 " Good fellow, Pere Buvat," said an employee who had 
 been there half an hour, and had not yet finished sharp- 
 ening his pen. " He proposes to spend the night here, 
 knowing there is a rule forbidding it for fear of fire. But 
 no matter; it sounds well, and gives the appearance of 
 zeal, and that pleases the chiefs. Oh, you are a cunning 
 fellow, Pere Buvat!" 
 
 Buvat was too much accustomed to that style of address 
 to be disturbed by it. After placing where they belonged 
 the first two volumes he had labelled, he took up the 
 third, and continued : — 
 
 " ' Conspiracy of Monsieur de Cinq- Mars ' — diable ! 
 diable / I have heard of that. He was a gallant gentle- 
 man, who was in correspondence with Spain, — that cursed 
 Spain. What business has it to mix itself up eternally 
 with our affairs 1 It is true that this time it is said that 
 Spain ' will only be an auxiliary ; ' but an auxiliary who 
 takes possession of our towns, and who debauches our 
 soldiers, appears to me very much like an enemy. \ Con- 
 spiracy of Monsieur de Cinq-Mars, followed by a History 
 of his Death, and that of Monsieur de Thou, condemned 
 for not revealing it. By an Eye-Witness.' For not re- 
 vealing ! It is true, no doubt, for the law is positive. 
 Whoever does not reveal is an accomplice, — myself, for 
 instance. I am the accomplice of the Prince de Listhnay ; 
 and if they cut off his head, they' will cut off mine too. 
 
THE PRINCE DE LISTHNAY'S ACCOMPLICE. 365 
 
 No, they will only hang me ; I am not noble. Hanged ! 
 it is impossible ; they would never go to such extremi- 
 ties in my case. Besides, I have made up my mind ; I 
 will declare all. But then I shall be an informer ; never ! 
 But then I shall be hanged — oh, oh ! " 
 
 "What in the devil is the matter with you to-day, 
 Pere Buvat 1 " said the colleague of the worthy man, who 
 had finished sharpening his pen. " You are spoiling your 
 cravat. Are you trying to strangle yourself? Well, don't 
 stand on ceremony. Take off your coat meanwhile. Go 
 ahead, Pere Buvat; go ahead." 
 
 " I beg your pardon, gentlemen," said Buvat ; " I did 
 it mechanically. I did not mean to offend you." 
 
 " That 's all right." 
 
 Buvat, after readjusting his cravat, and placing on its 
 shelf " The Conspiracy of Monsieur de Cinq-Mars," reached 
 out his trembling hand for another volume. 
 
 " ' Art of Plucking the Fowl without Making it cry 
 out.' This no doubt is a cook-book. If I had time I 
 would copy some good receipt and give it to Nanette for 
 the improvement of our Sunday dinners ; for now that 
 money is coming in again, — yes, it is coming in ; but, 
 my God, from what a source ! Oh, I will return his 
 money to him, and his papers too, to the last line. Yes, 
 but he will not restore mine to me, — more than forty 
 pages of my writing ! and the Cardinal de Richelieu 
 needed only five lines of a man's writing to hang him ! 
 There is enough there to hang me a hundred times. 
 And then there is no way of denying that writing, that 
 superb writing : it is well known ; it is obviously mine. 
 But come, this is not what is before me. * Art of Pluck- 
 ing the Fowl without Making it cry out. Paris, 1709: 
 Comon, Rue du Bac, No. 110.' Come, here I am, writing 
 the prince's address ! Decidedly, T am losing my head ; 
 
366 LE CHEVALIER D'HARMENTAL 
 
 I am going mad. But if I should go and declare all, 
 while refusing to name him who gave me the papers, — 
 yes, but they will force me to tell everything ; they have 
 means to do that. But I am wandering; come, Buvat, 
 my friend, attend to business." 
 
 " * Conspiracy of the Chevalier Louis de Rohan.' Oh, 
 I come to nothing but conspiracies ! That is the poor 
 fellow who was executed in 1674, four years before I was 
 born. My mother saw him die. Poor fellow ! — she has 
 often told me about it. And they hanged at the same 
 time a tall, slim man dressed all in black. What was his 
 name 1 Ah, good, I have the book here. Ah, yes, Van 
 den Enden. Here it is : ' Copy of a Plan of Government 
 found among the Papers of Monsieur de Eohan, and en- 
 tirely written by Van den Enden.' Ah, mon Dieu ! yes ; 
 that is just my case. He was hanged for having copied 
 a plan. Oh, I shall die ! ' Proces-verbal of the Torture 
 of Francois- Affinius Van den Enden.' If they read one 
 day, at the end of the conspiracy of the Prince de Listhnay, 
 * Proces-verbal of the Torture of Jean Buvat.' Ouf ! " 
 
 " In the year one thousand six hundred and seventy-four, 
 etc., we, Claude Bazin, Chevalier de Bezons, and Auguste- 
 Robert de Pomereu, assisted by Louis Le Mazier, counsellor 
 and secretary to the king, etc., have proceeded to the chateau 
 of the Bastille, and being in one of the towers of that chateau, 
 have before us Francois- Amnius Van den Enden, condemned 
 to death, and to be subjected to the question ordinary and 
 extraordinary ; and after he has taken oath to tell the truth, 
 we have shown him that he has not told all that he knows 
 concerning the conspiracy and the rebellious plans of the 
 Sieurs Rohan and Latreaumont. He replies that he has told 
 everything he knows; and that being a stranger to the con- 
 spiracy, having only copied a few papers relating to it, he can 
 say nothing further. Upon that we have applied to him the 
 brodequins." 
 
THE PEINCE DE LISTHNAY'S ACCOMPLICE. 367 
 
 " Monsieur," said Buvat to the chief clerk, " may I ask 
 you, who are so well informed, what the instrument of 
 torture is which is called brodequin ? " 
 
 " My dear Monsieur Buvat," replied the clerk, visibly 
 pleased by the compliment the good man had addressed 
 to him, " I can tell you all about it, for last year I saw 
 Duchauffour subjected to the torture." 
 
 " Then, Monsieur, I am curious to know — " 
 
 " Brodequins, my dear Buvat," replied Monsieur Du- 
 coudray, with an air of importance, " are nothing else but 
 four boards, something like the staves of a cask." 
 
 " Well 1 " 
 
 u They place your right leg, — when I say 'your,' you 
 understand, my dear Buvat, that I am speaking generally, 
 and do not intend a personal application, — they put 
 your right leg, then, between two boards, then fasten the 
 boards in place with cords, then do the same with the left 
 leg, then draw the two legs together, and between 
 the middle boards introduce wedges, which are driven 
 in with a mallet, — five for the question ordinary, ten 
 for the question extraordinary." 
 
 "But," said Buvat, with a changed voice, "Mon- 
 sieur Ducoudray, that must put the legs in a deplorable 
 condition." 
 
 " Why, yes, it breaks your legs all to pieces. At the 
 sixth wedge, for example, DuchaufTour's legs were broken, 
 and at the eighth the marrow of the bone ran out with 
 the blood." 
 
 Buvat turned deathly pale, and sat down on the step- 
 ladder to keep himself from falling. " Jesus / " he mur- 
 mured, "what are you telling me, Monsieur Ducoudray?" 
 
 "The exact truth, my dear Buvat. Read the torture 
 of Urbain Grandier, and then you will see if I am im- 
 posing on you." 
 
368 LE CHEVALIER D'HARMENTAL. 
 
 " I have one here, — that of poor Monsieur Van den 
 Enden." 
 
 "Well, read, then." 
 
 Buvat turned his eyes upon the book and read : — 
 
 "At the first wedge: Affirms that he has said the truth ; 
 that he has nothing to add ; that he suffers innocently. 
 
 "At the second wedge: Says that he has declared all he 
 knows. 
 
 "At the third wedge: Cries out, 'Ah, my God! my God! 
 I have told all that I know.' 
 
 11 At the fourth wedge: Says that he can confess nothing 
 more than is already known ; that is to say, that he copied a 
 plan of government that was given him by the Chevalier de 
 Kohan." 
 
 Buvat wiped his brow with his handkerchief. 
 
 "At the fifth wedge: Says, 'Oh, oh, my God!' but says 
 nothing more. 
 
 " At the sixth wedge : Cries, ' Oh, my God ! ' 
 
 " At the seventh wedge : Cries, ' I am dead ! ' 
 
 "At the eighth wedge: Cries, 'Ah, my God ! I cannot tell 
 anything, for I have nothing to tell.' 
 
 "At the ninth wedge : Says, ' My God ! my God ! Why 
 torture me so ? You know well that I can tell nothing. 
 Since I am condemned to death, kill me ! ' 
 
 "At the tenth wedge: Says, 'Oh, gentlemen, what do you 
 want me to say? Oh, I thank thee, my God! I die, I 
 die!'" 
 
 " Well, well, what is the matter, Buvat 1 " said Du- 
 coudray, seeing the good man shake and grow pale. '! Are 
 you ill?" 
 
 " Ah, Monsieur Ducoudray," said Buvat, dropping the 
 book, and dragging himself to a seat, as if his legs, already 
 broken, could sustain him no longer, — " ah, Monsieur 
 Ducoudray, I feel I am going to faint." 
 
THE PRINCE DE LISTHNAY'S ACCOMPLICE. 369 
 
 " That comes of reading instead of working," said an 
 employee. 
 
 " Well, Pere Buvat, are you better 1 " asked Ducoudray. 
 
 44 Yes, Monsieur, for rny resolution is taken, taken irre- 
 vocably. It would not be just, by Heaven, that I should 
 bear the punishment for a crime which I never com- 
 mitted. I owe it to society, to my ward, to myself. 
 Monsieur Ducoudray, if the curator asks for me, you 
 will tell him that I have gone out on pressing business." 
 
 And Buvat drew the roll of paper from the drawer, 
 pressed his hat on his head, took his stick, and went out 
 with the majesty of despair. 
 
 " Do you know where he has gone ? " asked the employee. 
 
 " No," answered Ducoudray. 
 
 " I will tell you : to play at bowls at the Champs- 
 Elysees, or at Porcherons." 
 
 The employee was wrong ; he had gone neither to the 
 Champs-Elysees nor to Porcherons. He had gone to 
 Dubois. 
 
 24 
 
370 LE CHEVALIER D'HARMENTAL. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIII. 
 
 THE FOX AND THE GOOSE. 
 
 Monsieur Jean Buvat," said the usher. Dubois 
 stretched out his viper's head, darted a look at the 
 opening which was left between the usher and the door, 
 and behind the official introducer perceived a little fat, 
 pale man, whose legs shook under him, and who coughed 
 to give himself courage. A glance sufficed to show Du- 
 bois the sort of person he had to deal with. 
 
 " Let him come in," said Dubois. 
 
 The usher stood aside, and Jean Buvat appeared in the 
 doorway. 
 
 " Come in, come in," said Dubois. 
 
 " You do me honor, Monsieur," stammered Buvat, with- 
 out moving from his place. 
 
 " Shut the door, and leave us," said Dubois to the usher. 
 
 The usher obeyed, and the door striking Buvat un- 
 expectedly, made him jump. Though staggered for a 
 moment, he steadied himself on his legs, and became 
 once more immovable, looking at Dubois with an expres- 
 sion of astonishment. 
 
 In truth, Dubois was a curious sight. Of his episcopal 
 costume he had retained only the inferior part ; so that he 
 was in his shirt, with black breeches and violet stockings. 
 This upset all Bu vat's preconceived notions. What he 
 had before his eyes was neither a minister nor an arch- 
 bishop, but seemed much more like an orang-outang than 
 a man. 
 
THE FOX AND THE GOOSE. 371 
 
 " Well, Monsieur," said Dubois, sitting down and cross- 
 ing his legs, and taking his foot in his hands, " you have 
 asked to speak to me ; here I am." 
 
 " That is to say, Monsieur," said Buvat, " I asked to 
 speak to Monseigneur the Archbishop of Cambrai." 
 
 " Well, I am he." 
 
 " What ! you, Monseigneur % " cried Buvat, taking his 
 hat in both hands, and bowing almost to the floor. " Ex- 
 cuse me, but I did not recognize your Eminence. It is 
 true that this is the first time I have had the honor of 
 seeing you. Still — hum ! at that air of majesty — hum, 
 hum — I ought to have understood — " 
 
 " Your name 1 " asked Dubois, interrupting the good 
 man's compliments. 
 
 "Jean Buvat, at your service." 
 
 "You are — 1" 
 
 " An employee at the library." 
 
 "And you have some revelations to make to me con- 
 cerning Spain 1 " 
 
 " That is to say, Monseigneur — This is how it is. 
 As my office-work leaves me six hours in the evening and 
 four in the morning, and as Heaven has blessed me with 
 a very good handwriting, I make copies." 
 
 " Yes, I understand," said Dubois ; " and some one has 
 given you suspicious papers to copy ; so you have brought 
 these suspicious papers to me, have you not ? " 
 
 "In this roll, Monseigneur, in this roll," said Buvat, 
 extending it toward Dubois. 
 
 Dubois made a single bound from his chair to Buvat, 
 took the roll, and sat down at a desk, and with a turn of 
 the hand having torn off the string and the wrapper, found 
 the papers in question. The first on which he lighted 
 were in Spanish ; but as Dubois had been sent twice to 
 Spain, and knew something of the language of Calderon 
 
372 LE CHEVALIER D'HARMENTAL. 
 
 and Lopez de Vega, he saw at the first glance how impor- 
 tant these papers were. Indeed, they were neither more 
 nor less than the protestation of the nobility, the list of 
 officers who sought service under the King of Spain, and 
 the manifesto prepared by the Cardinal de Polignac and 
 the Marquis de Pompadour to rouse the kingdom. These 
 different documents were addressed directly to Philip V. ; 
 and a little note — which Dubois recognized as in Cella- 
 mare's handwriting — announced that the denouement 
 of the conspiracy was near at hand; he informed his 
 Catholic Majesty, from day to day, of all the important 
 events which could advance or retard the scheme. Then 
 came, finally, that famous plan of the conspirators which 
 we have already given to our readers, and which — left by 
 an oversight among the papers which had been, translated 
 into Spanish — had opened Buvat's eyes. Near the plan, 
 in the good man's best writing, was the copy which he 
 had begun to make, and which was broken off at the 
 words, " Act thus in all the provinces." 
 
 Buvat had followed all the working of Dubois's face 
 with a certain anxiety ; he had seen its expressions change 
 from astonishment to joy, then from joy to impassibility. 
 Dubois, as he continued to read, had passed successively 
 one leg over the other, had bitten his lips, and pinched 
 the end of his nose ; but all this had been utterly untrans- 
 latable to Buvat, and at the end of the reading he no 
 more understood the face of the archbishop than at the 
 end of the copy he had understood the Spanish original. 
 As to Dubois, he saw that this man had come to furnish 
 him with the beginning of a most important secret, and 
 he was meditating on the best means of making him fur- 
 nish the end also. This was the signification of the 
 crossed legs, the bitten lips, and the pinched nose. At 
 last he appeared to have taken his resolution. A charming 
 
THE FOX AND THE GOOSE. 373 
 
 benevolence overspread his countenance; and turning 
 toward the good man, who had remained standing respect- 
 fully, " Take a seat, my dear Monsieur Buvat," said he. 
 
 " Thank you, Monseigneur," answered Buvat, trembling ; 
 " I am not fatigued." 
 
 "Pardon, pardon," said Dubois, "but your legs 
 shake." 
 
 Indeed, since he had read the report of the torture of 
 Van den Enden, Buvat had retained in his legs a nervous 
 trembling, somewhat like that which may be observed in 
 dogs that have the distemper. 
 
 "The fact is,. Monseigneur," said Buvat, "that I don't 
 know what has come to me in the last two hours, but I 
 find a great difficulty in standing upright." 
 
 " Sit down, then, and let us talk like two friends." 
 
 Buvat looked at Dubois with an air of stupefaction 
 ■which at any other time would have had the effect of 
 making him burst out laughing ; but now he did not seem 
 to notice it, and drawing forward a chair which was within 
 his reach, he repeated with his hand the invitation which 
 he had given with his voice. There was no way of draw- 
 ing back; the good man approached trembling, and sat 
 down on the edge of his chair, put his hat on the floor, 
 took his cane between his legs, and waited. All this, 
 however, was not executed without a violent internal 
 struggle, as his face testified, which, white as a lily when 
 he came in, had now become as red as a peony. 
 
 " My dear Monsieur Buvat, you say that you make 
 copies 1 " 
 
 " Yes, Monseigneur." 
 
 " And that brings you in — V* 
 
 " Very little, Monseigneur, very little." 
 
 " You have, nevertheless, a superb handwriting, Mon- 
 sieur Buvat." 
 
374 LE CHEVALIER D'HARMENTAL. 
 
 " Yes ; but all the world does not appreciate the value 
 of that talent as your Eminence does." 
 
 " That is true ; but you are employed at the library 1 " 
 
 " I have that honor." 
 
 " And your place brings you — V 1 
 
 " Oh, my place, — that is another thing, Monseigneur ; 
 it brings me in nothing at all, seeing that for five years 
 the cashier has told us at the end of each month that the 
 king was too poor to pay us." 
 
 " And you still remained in the service of his Majesty 1 
 That was well done, Monsieur Buvat; that was well 
 done." 
 
 Buvat rose, saluted Dubois, and reseated himself. 
 
 u And perhaps all the while you have a family to 
 support, — a wife, children 1 " 
 
 " No, Monseigneur ; up to the present time I have 
 remained a bachelor." 
 
 " But you have relatives, of course 1 " 
 
 " No, Monseigneur ; but I have a ward, — a charming 
 young person, full of talent, who sings like Mademoiselle 
 Bury, and who draws like Monsieur Greuze." 
 
 " Ah, ah ! and what is the name of your ward, 
 Monsieur Buvat?" 
 
 " Bathilde — Bathilde du Rocher, Monseigneur ; she is 
 a young lady of noble family. Her father was squire to 
 Monsieur le Regent when he was still Due de Chartres, 
 and had the misfortune to be killed at the battle of 
 Almanza." 
 
 " Thus I see you have your charges, my dear Buvat." 
 
 "Is it of Bathilde that you speak, Monseigneur? Oh, 
 no, Bathilde is not a charge ; on the contrary, poor dear 
 girl, she brings in more than she costs. Bathilde a charge ! 
 Firstly, every month Monsieur Papillon, the dealer in 
 colors at the corner of the Rue Clery, you know, Mon- 
 
THE FOX AND THE GOOSE. 375 
 
 seigneur, gives her eighty francs for two drawings; 
 
 then — " 
 
 " What I mean is, my dear Buvat, that you are not rich." 
 " Oh, rich ! no, Monseigneur, I am not. But I wish I 
 
 were, for poor Bathilde's sake ; and if you could obtain 
 
 from Monseigneur that out of the first money which 
 
 comes into the State coffers he would pay me my arrears, 
 
 or at least something on account — " 
 
 "And to how much do your arrears amount 1 " 
 
 " To four thousand seven hundred francs, two sous, and 
 
 eight centimes, Monseigneur." 
 
 " Is that all 1 " said Dubois ; " that is nothing." 
 
 u Indeed, Monseigneur, it is a great deal ; and the 
 
 proof is that the king cannot pay it." 
 " But that will not make you rich." 
 " It will make me comfortable ; and I do not conceal 
 
 from you, Monseigneur, that if, from the first money which 
 
 comes into the treasury — " 
 
 "My dear Buvat," said Dubois, "I have something 
 
 better than that to offer you." 
 " Offer it, Monseigneur." 
 
 "You have your fortune at your fingers' ends." 
 "My mother always told me so, Monseigneur." 
 "That proves," said Dubois, "what a sensible woman 
 
 your mother was." 
 
 " Well, Monseigneur, I am ready ; what must I do 1 " 
 "Ah, mon Dieu! the thing is very simple; you will 
 
 make me, now and here, copies of all these." 
 " But, Monseigneur — " 
 " That is not all, my dear Monsieur Buvat. You will 
 
 take back the copies and the originals to the person who 
 
 gave you these papers, as if nothing had happened ; you 
 
 will take all that that person gives you ; you will bring 
 
 them to me directly, so that I may read them ; then you 
 
376 LE CHEVALIER D'HARMENTAL. 
 
 will do the same with those other papers as with these, — 
 and so on indefinitely, till I say, Enough." 
 
 a But, Monseigneur, it seems to me that in acting thus 
 I should betray the confidence of the prince." 
 
 " Ah ! it is with the prince that you have business, 
 Monsieur Buvat 1 and what may this prince be called 1 " 
 
 " Oh, Monseigneur, it appears to me that in telling you 
 his name I denounce — M 
 
 " Well, and what have you come here for, then 1 " 
 
 " Monseigneur, I have come here to inform you 
 of the danger to which his Highness is exposed, that is 
 all." 
 
 " Indeed," said Dubois, in a bantering tone, " and you 
 imagine you are going to stop there 1 " 
 
 " I wish to do so, Monseigneur." 
 
 " There is only one misfortune, that it is impossible, 
 my dear Monsieur Buvat." 
 
 "What! impossible?" 
 
 "Entirely." 
 
 " Monseigneur, I am an honest man." 
 
 " Monsieur Buvat, you are a simpleton." 
 
 " Monsieur, I wish nevertheless to keep silence." 
 
 " My dear Monsieur, you will speak." 
 
 " And if I speak, I shall be an informer against the 
 prince." 
 
 " Tf you do not speak, you are his accomplice." 
 
 " His accomplice, Monseigneur ! and in what crime 1 " 
 
 " In the crime of high treason. Ah ! the police have 
 had their eyes on you this long time, Monsieur Buvat ! " 
 
 " On me, Monseigneur ? " 
 
 " Yes, on yon ; under the pretext that they do not pay 
 you your salary, you entertain seditious proposals against 
 the State." 
 
 " Oh, Monseigneur, how can they say so 1 " 
 
THE FOX AND THE GOOSE. 377 
 
 " Under the pretext of their not paying you your salary, 
 you have been making copies of incendiary documents for 
 the last four days." 
 
 " Monseigneur, I found it out only yesterday ; I don't 
 understand Spanish." 
 
 " You do understand it, Monsieur." 
 
 " I swear, Monseigneur." 
 
 " I tell you that you do understand it, and the proof is 
 that there is not a mistake in your copies. But that is 
 not all." 
 
 "What! not all 1" 
 
 "No, that is not all. Is this Spanish? Look, Mon- 
 sieur," and he read : — 
 
 " Nothing is more important than to make sure of the places 
 near, the Pyrenees, and of the noblemen who reside in those 
 cantons." 
 
 "But, Monseigneur, it was just that which led me to 
 discover — " 
 
 " Monsieur Buvat, they have sent men to the galleys for 
 less than you have done." 
 
 " Monseigneur ! " 
 
 " Monsieur Buvat, men have been hanged who were less 
 guilty than you." 
 
 " Monseigneur ! Monseigneur ! " 
 
 " Monsieur Buvat, they have broken on the wheel — " 
 
 " Mercy, Monseigneur, mercy ! " 
 
 * Mercy to a criminal like you, Monsieur Buvat ! I 
 shall send you to the Bastille, and Mademoiselle Bathilde 
 to St. Lazare." 
 
 " To St. Lazare ! Bathilde to St. Lazare, Monseigneur ! 
 Bathilde to St. Lazare ! and who has the right to do that 1 " 
 
 " I, Monsieur Buvat ! " 
 
 " No, Monseigneur, you have not the right ! " cried 
 
378 LE CHEVALIER D'HARMENTAL. 
 
 Buvat, who could fear and suffer everything for himself, 
 hut who, at the thought of such infamy, from a worm 
 became a serpent. "Bathilde is not a daughter of the 
 people, Monseigneur ! Bathilde is a lady of noble birth, 
 the daughter of a man who saved the life of the regent ; 
 and when I represent to his Highness — " 
 
 "You will go first to the Bastille, Monsieur Buvat," 
 said Dubois, pulling the bell so as nearly to break it, "and 
 then we will see about Mademoiselle Bathilde." 
 
 "Monseigneur, what are you doing?" 
 
 "You will see." (The usher entered.) "An officer of 
 police, and a carriage." 
 
 " Monseigneur," cried Buvat, " all that you wish — " 
 
 " Do as I have bid you," said Dubois. 
 
 The usher went out. 
 
 " Monseigneur," said Buvat, joining his hands, — 
 " Monseigneur, I will obey." 
 
 " No, Monsieur Buvat. Ah ! you wish for a trial, — 
 you shall have one. You want a rope, — you shall not be 
 disappointed." 
 
 u Monseigneur," cried Buvat, falling on his knees, 
 "what must I do?" 
 
 " Hang, hang, hang ! " continued Dubois. 
 
 " Monseigneur," said the usher, returning, " the carriage 
 is at the door, and the officer in the anteroom." 
 
 "Monseigneur," said Buvat, twisting his short arms 
 and tearing out the few yellow hairs which he had left, 
 — " Monseigneur, will you be pitiless ? " 
 
 " Ah ! you will not tell me the name of the prince ? " 
 
 * It is the Prince de Listhnay, Monseigneur." 
 
 " Ah ! you will not tell me his address 1 " 
 
 "He lives at No. 110 Rue du Bac, Monseigneur." 
 
 " You will not make me copies of those papers 1 " 
 
 "I will do it, — I will do it this instant," said Buvat ; 
 
THE FOX AND THE GOOSE. 379 
 
 and he went and sat down before the desk, took a pen, 
 dipped it in the ink, and taking some paper, began the 
 first page with a superb capital. H I will do it, — I will 
 do it, Monseigneur ; only you will allow me to write to 
 Bathilde that I shall not be home to dinner. Bathilde to 
 the St. Lazare ! " he muttered between his teeth. "Sabre 
 de bois I he would have done as he said." 
 
 " Yes, Monsieur, I would have done that, and more too, 
 for the safety of the State, as you will find out to your 
 cost if you do not return these papers, and if you do not 
 take the others, and if you do not come here every even- 
 ing to copy them." 
 
 " But, Monseigneur," cried Buvat, in despair, " I cannot 
 then go to my office." 
 
 "Well, then, you will not go to your office, — a great 
 misfortune ! " 
 
 " Not go to my office ! but I have not missed a day for 
 twelve years, Monseigneur." 
 
 " Well, I give you a month's leave." 
 
 " But I shall lose my place, Monseigneur." 
 
 " What will that matter to you, since they do not pay 
 you?" 
 
 " But the honor of being a public functionary, Mon- 
 seigneur ! and, moreover, I love my books, I love my 
 table, I love my armchair," cried Buvat, ready to cry at 
 the thought of losing all that. 
 
 "Well, then, if you wish to keep your books, your 
 table, and your chair, I advise you to obey me." 
 
 " Have I not already put myself at your service, Mon- 
 seigneur 1 " 
 
 " Then you will do all that I wish 1 " 
 
 " Everything." 
 
 * Without breathing a word to any one]" 
 
 " I will be dumb." 
 
380 LE CHEVALIER D'HARMENTAL. 
 
 " Not even to Mademoiselle Bathilde 1 " 
 
 " To her less than any one else, Monseigneur." 
 
 * That is well ; on that condition I pardon you." 
 
 " Oh, Monseigneur ! " 
 
 " I shall forget your fault.''* 
 
 " Monseigneur is too good." 
 
 " And perhaps I will even reward you." 
 
 " Oh, Monseigneur, what magnanimity ! " 
 
 Well, well ; set to work." 
 
 " I am ready, Monseigneur, — I am ready." 
 
 And Buvat began to write in his most rapid style, and 
 without moving his eyes except from the original to the 
 copy, and from the copy to the original, and without 
 pausing except to wipe his forehead, which was covered 
 with perspiration. Dubois profited by his industry to 
 open the closet for La Fillon ; and making a sign to her 
 to be silent, he led her toward the door. 
 
 "Well, gossip," she whispered, — for in spite of his 
 caution she could not restrain her curiosity, — " where is 
 your writer % " 
 
 " There he is," said Dubois, showing Buvat, who, lean- 
 ing over his paper, was working away industriously. 
 
 "What is he doing V 
 
 "Guess." 
 
 " How should I know 1 " 
   a Then you want me to tell you 1 " 
 >"Yes." 
 
 " Well, he is making my cardinal's hat." 
 La Fillon uttered such an exclamation of surprise that 
 Buvat started and turned round ; but Dubois had already 
 pushed her out of the room, again recommending her to 
 send him daily information of what her captain was doing. 
 But the reader will ask what Bathilde and D'Harmental 
 were doing all this time. Nothing j they were happy. 
 
A CHAPTER OF SAINT-SIMON. 381 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIV. 
 
 A CHAPTER OF SAINT-SIMON. 
 
 Four days passed thus, during which Buvat — remaining 
 absent from the office on pretext of indisposition — suc- 
 ceeded in completing the two copies, one for the Prince 
 de Listhnay, the other for Dubois. During these four 
 days — certainly the most agitated of his life — he was 
 so taciturn and gloomy that Bathilde several times asked 
 him what was the matter. But every time that question 
 was put to him, Buvat, mustering all his moral energy, 
 replied that there was absolutely nothing troubling him ; 
 and inasmuch as after making that reply he began at 
 once to sing his little song, he succeeded in deceiving 
 Bathilde, — the more easily because he set out every 
 morning as usual, as if he continued going to the library, 
 so that Bathilde saw no material disturbance of his ordi- 
 nary habits. 
 
 As to D'Harmental, he received every morning a visit 
 from the Abbe Brigaud, who told him that everything 
 was going on as well as could be desired; and since, on 
 the other hand, his love-affair was progressing favorably, 
 D'Harmental began to think that the lot of a conspirator 
 was the happiest on earth. 
 
 As to the Due d'Orleans, suspecting nothing, he con- 
 tinued his ordinary life, and had invited the customary 
 guests to his Sunday's supper, when in the afternoon 
 Dubois entered his room. 
 
382 LE CHEVALIER D'HARMENTAL. 
 
 " Ah, it is you, Abbe ! " said the regent ; " I was going 
 to send to you to know if you would be with us to-night." 
 
 " You are going to have a supper, then, Monseigneur 1 " 
 asked Dubois. 
 
 "Where do you come from with your fast-day face] 
 Is not to-day Sunday]" 
 
 "Yes, Monseigneur." 
 
 " Well, then, come back to us. Here is the list of the 
 guests : Noce, Lafare, Fargy, Eavanne, Broglie. I do not 
 invite Brancas ; he has been wearisome for some days. 
 Faith ! I think he must be conspiring. Then La Phalaris 
 and D'Averne ; they cannot bear each other ; they will 
 tear out each other's eyes, and that will amuse us. Then 
 we shall have La Souris, and perhaps Madame de Sabran, 
 if she has no appointment with Eichelieu." 
 
 " This is your list, Monseigneur % " 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Well, now will your Highness bestow a glance on 
 mine ? " 
 
 " Have you made one too 1 " 
 
 " No, it was brought to me ready-made." 
 
 " What is this 1 " asked the regent, looking at a paper 
 which Dubois presented to him. " ' List of the officers * 
 names who ask for service in the Spanish army : Claude- 
 Francois de Ferrette, Chevalier de Saint Louis, Field- 
 Marshal and Colonel of Cavalry; Boschet, Chevalier de 
 Saint Louis and Colonel of Infantry; De Sabran; De 
 Larochefoucault-Gondral ; De Villeneuve ; De Lescure ; De 
 Laval.' Well, what next 1 " 
 
 " Here is another ; " and he presented a second paper 
 to the duke. 
 
 " ' Protestation of the nobility.' " 
 
 " Make your lists, Monseigneur ; you are not the only 
 one, you see, — the Prince de Cellamare makes his also." 
 
A CHAPTER OF SAINT-SIMON. 383 
 
 M * Signed without distinction of ranks, so that there may 
 be no dissatisfaction : De Vieux-Pont, De la Pailleterie, 
 De Beaufremont, De Latour-du-Pin, De Montauban, Louis 
 de Caumont, Claude de Polignac, Charles de Laval, An- 
 toine de Chastellux, Arniand de Richelieu.' Where the 
 devil did you fish up all this, you old fox?" 
 
 " Wait, Monseigueur, we have not done yet. Look at 
 this." 
 
 " ' Plan of the Conspirators : Nothing is more impor- 
 tant than to make sure of the strong places near the 
 Pyrenees, to gain the garrison of Bayonne/ Surrender 
 our towns ! give the keys of France into the hands of the 
 Spanish ! What does this mean, Dubois 1 " 
 
 " Patience, Monseigneur ; we have better than that to 
 show you : we have here the letters from his Majesty 
 Philip V. himself." 
 
 " ' To the King of France — ' But these are only 
 copies." 
 
 " I will tell you soon where the originals are." 
 
 M Let us see, my dear Abbe, let us see. ' Since Provi- 
 dence has placed me on the throne of Spain,' etc. l In 
 what light can your faithful subjects regard the treaty 
 which is signed against me?' etc. * I beg your Majesty 
 to convoke the States-General of the kingdom.' Convoke 
 the States-General ! In whose name 1 " 
 
 " In the name of Philip V." 
 
 " Philip Y. is King of Spain and not of France. Let 
 him keep to his own character. I crossed the Pyrenees 
 once to secure him on his throne; I might cross them 
 a second time to remove him from it." 
 
 " We will think of that later, — I do not say no ; but 
 for the present, if you please, Monseigneur, we have the 
 fifth piece to read, — and not the least important, as you 
 will see." 
 
384 LE CHEVALIER D'HARMENTAL. 
 
 And Dubois presented another paper to the regent, 
 which he opened with such impatience that he tore it. 
 
 " Never mind," said Dubois, " the pieces are good \ put 
 them together and read them." 
 
 The regent did so, and read, " Dearly and well beloved." 
 " Ah ! " said he, " it is a question of my deposition. And 
 these letters, I suppose, were to be given to the king 1 ?" 
 
 " To-morrow, Monseigneur." 
 
 "By whom?" 
 
 "The marshal." 
 
 "Villeroy?" 
 
 " Himself." 
 
 " How did he determine on such a thing % " 
 
 " It was not he ; it was his wife, Monseigneur." 
 
 " Another of Richelieu's tricks." 
 
 " You are right, Monseigneur." 
 
 " And from whom do you get these papers 1 " 
 
 " From a poor writer to whom they have been given to be 
 copied, since, thanks to a descent made on Laval's house, a 
 press which he had hidden in the cellar has ceased to work." 
 
 "And this writer is in direct communication with Cel- 
 lamare? The idiots!" 
 
 " Not at all, Monseigneur ; their measures are better 
 taken. The good man has had to deal only with the 
 Prince de Listhnay." 
 
 " Prince de Listhnay ! Who is he?" 
 
 "RueduBac, 110." 
 
 " I do not know him." 
 
 " Yes, you do, Monseigneur." 
 
 " Where have I seen him 1 " 
 
 " In your antechamber." 
 
 " What ! this pretended Prince de Listhnay — w 
 
 " Is no other than that scoundrel D'Avranches, Madame 
 du Maine's valet-de chambre." 
 
A CHAPTER OF SAINT-SIMON. 385 
 
 " Ah ! I was astonished that she was not in it, — the 
 little wasp ! " 
 
 " Oh, she is fully committed to it ; and if Monseigneur 
 would like this time to dispose finally of her and her 
 clique, we have them all." 
 
 " Let us attend first to what is most pressing." 
 
 "Yes, let us think of Villeroy. Are you prepared to 
 act with authority 1 " 
 
 "Entirely. So long as he only strutted and paraded 
 like a man of the theatre or the tilt-yard, very well ; so 
 long as he confined himself to calumnies and imperti- 
 nences against me, still very well ; but when it becomes 
 a question of the peace and tranquillity of France, — 
 ah, Monsieur le Marechal, you have already compromised 
 them sufficiently by your military incapacity, and we will 
 not give you an opportunity of compromising them again 
 by your political follies." 
 
 "Then," said Dubois, " we are to lay hands on him 1" 
 
 "Yes; but with certain precautions. We must take 
 him in the act." 
 
 " Nothing easier. He goes every morning at eight 
 o'clock to the king." 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Be to-morrow at half-past seven at Versailles." 
 
 "Well?" 
 
 " You will be before him with his Majesty." 
 
 "And there I will reproach him, in presence of the 
 king—-" 
 
 " By no means, Monseigneur ; it is necessary — " 
 
 At that moment the usher opened the door. 
 
 " Hush ! " said the regent. Then, turning toward the 
 usher, "What is it?" said he. 
 
 " Monsieur le Due de Saint-Simon." 
 
 " Ask him if he is on serious business." 
 25 
 
386 LE CHEVALIER D'HARMENTAL. 
 
 The usher turned back and exchanged a few words with 
 the duke; then addressing himself again to the regent, 
 "Most serious, Monseigneur," said he. 
 
 "Very well ; let him come in." 
 
 Saint-Simon entered. 
 
 "Pardon, Duke," said the regent, "I have a little mat- 
 ter to arrange with Dubois, and in five minutes will be at 
 your service." 
 
 The regent and Dubois withdrew to a corner, where 
 they conversed together in low tones for about five min- 
 utes, after which Dubois took his leave. 
 
 "There will be no supper this evening," said Dubois to 
 the usher ; " give notice to the persons invited. The regent 
 is ill." And he went out. 
 
 "Is that true, Monseigneur 1 " asked Saint-Simon, with 
 genuine concern ; for the duke, though very chary of his 
 friendship, had a great regard for the regent. 
 
 " No, my dear Duke," said Philippe, " at least not in 
 a way to make me uneasy ; but Chirac pretends that if 
 I am not more steady I shall die of apoplexy, and really 
 I have decided to reform." 
 
 " Ah, Monseigneur, may God hear you ! " said Saint- 
 Simon ; "although in fact that comes somewhat late." 
 
 " What do you mean, my dear Duke ? " 
 
 " Yes ; your Highness' s indulgence has already given 
 only too strong a hold to calumny." 
 
 " Ah, if that is all, my dear Duke, calumny has been 
 nibbling at me so long that it must begin to grow weary." 
 
 " On the contrary, Monseigneur," replied Saint-Simon, 
 " it must invent something new against you, and it erects 
 its head more sibilant and more venomous than ever." 
 
 " Well, let us see ; what is going on 1 " 
 
 " For example : a little while ago a beggar stood on the 
 steps of St. Koch, who sang, and asked alms of those 
 
A CHAPTER OF SAINT-SIMON. 387 
 
 who were coming out from vespers. While he sang, he 
 offered to them what seemed to be ballads. Now, can 
 you imagine what those ballads were, Monseigneur % " 
 
 "No ; some Christmas song, some diatribe against Law, 
 against that poor Duchesse de Berri, against me, perhaps. 
 Oh, my dear Duke, we must let them sing, if only they pay." 
 
 "Hold, Monseigneur; read!" said Saint-Simon. And 
 he presented to the Due d'Orleans a coarse paper, printed, 
 and resembling the printed songs that are sung in the 
 streets. The prince took it, shrugging his shoulders, and 
 casting his eyes upon it with an inexpressible feeling of 
 disgust, he read as follows : — 
 
 "You, whose eloquent speech 
 
 Against two tyrants inhuman 
 Once bravely dared to teach 
 
 War to the Greek and the Roman, 
 Give me your power, that I may pierce 
 The armor of a beast more fierce. 
 
 I burn to go where you lead, 
 And will even make the attempt, 
 From all chilling fears exempt, 
 
 Charmed by your glorious deed." 
 
 " Your Highness recognizes the style % " asked Saint- 
 Simon. 
 
 ** Yes," replied the regent ; " it is Lagrange-Chancers." 
 Then he continued : — 
 
 " He had hardly opened his eyes 
 
 "When — such as to-day he is shown — 
 He filled the air with his cries, 
 
 Because he was kept from the throne. 
 To those detestable ideas, 
 Sprung from the Circes and Medeas, 
 
 His mind alone aspires, 
 Thinking by that infernal art 
 To bridge the chasm that apart 
 
 Keeps him from his desires." 
 
388 LE CHEVALIER D'HARMENTAL. 
 
 " Here, Duke," said the regent, handing the paper to 
 Saint-Simon ; "it is so contemptible that I have n't the 
 heart to go on with it." 
 
 " Read, Monseigneur, read ! You must learn of what 
 your enemies are capable. "When they show themselves 
 in the light, so much the better. Then it is war. They 
 offer you battle. Accept the battle, and prove to them 
 that you are the conqueror of Nerwinden, of Steenkirk, 
 and of Lerida." 
 
 "You wish it, then, Duke?" 
 
 " It is necessary, Monseigneur." 
 
 The regent, with a feeling of repugnance almost insur- 
 mountable, returned to the paper, and omitting one stanza, 
 that he might the sooner reach the end, read : — 
 
 "Thus the sons, their father weeping, 
 
 By the same hand are robbed of life ; 
 The brothers side by side are sleeping ; 
 
 The husband follows then the wife. 
 Then — fatal blow, that brings the end ! — 
 Two sons, on whom our hopes depend, 
 
 The sweeping scythe of Fate pursues. 
 The first of these has joined his race ; 
 The other, with a pallid face, 
 
 Awaits the call none can refuse.*' 
 
 The regent read these lines with a trembling voice ; and 
 when he reached the end, his indignation proved greater 
 than his strength. Crushing the paper in his hands, he 
 began to speak ; but his voice failed him, and two great 
 tears rolled from his eyes down his cheeks. 
 
 "Monseigneur," said Saint-Simon, looking at the regent 
 with a compassion full of veneration, " I wish the entire 
 world were here to see those generous tears. I should no 
 longer advise you to take vengeance on your enemies, for 
 the entire world would be convinced, as I am, of your 
 innocence." 
 
A CHAPTER OF SAINT-SIMON. 389 
 
 "Yes, my innocence," murmured the regent; "yes, 
 and the life of Louis XV. will hear witness to it. The 
 scoundrels ! They know well who are the real culprits. 
 Ah, Madame de Maintenon ! ah, Madame du Maine ! ah, 
 Monsieur de Villeroy ! For that miserahle Lagrange- 
 tJhancelis only their scorpion. And to think, Saint- 
 Simon, that at this very moment I have them under my 
 feet ; that I have only to throw my weight on my heel, 
 and I shall crush them ! " 
 
 " Crush, Monseigneur, crush ! These are opportunities 
 that are not offered every day ; and when they come, it is 
 best to seize them." 
 
 The regent reflected a moment, and in that moment his 
 discomposed features regained little by little the expres- 
 sion of good-nature which was natural to them. 
 
 " Well," said Saint-Simon, who observed in the regent's 
 countenance the reaction that was taking place, "I see 
 that it will not be for to-day." 
 
 " No, Monsieur le Due," said Philippe ; " for to-day I 
 have something better to do than to avenge the injuries 
 of the Due d'Orleans : I have to save France." And 
 offering his hand to Saint-Simon, the prince returned to 
 his chamber. 
 
 That evening, at nine o'clock, the regent left the Palais 
 Royal, and contrary to his custom, went to spend the 
 night at Versailles. 
 
390 LE CHEVALIER D'HARMENTAL. 
 
 CHAPTEE XXXV. 
 
 A SNAEE. 
 
 The next day, about seven o'clock in the morning, at the 
 time when the king rose, an usher entered his Majesty's 
 room and announced that his Royal Highness, Monseigneur 
 le Due d'Orleans, solicited the honor of assisting at his 
 toilet. Louis XV., who was not yet accustomed to decide 
 anything for himself, turned toward Monsieur de Frejus, 
 who was seated in the least conspicuous corner of the 
 room, as if to ask what he should say ; and in reply to 
 this mute question, Monsieur de Frejus not only made a 
 sign with his head signifying that it was necessary to 
 receive his Royal Highness, but rose immediately and 
 went himself to open the door. The regent stopped a 
 minute on the doorstep to thank Fleury; then having 
 assured himself by a rapid glance round the room that the 
 Marechal de Villeroy had not yet arrived, he advanced 
 toward the king. 
 
 Louis XV. was at this time a pretty child, nine or ten 
 years of age, with long chestnut hair, jet-black eyes, a 
 mouth like a cherry, and a rosy complexion, which, like 
 that of his mother, Marie de Savoie, Duchesse de Bour- 
 gogne, was liable to sudden paleness. Although his char- 
 acter was as yet very irresolute, thanks to the contradic- 
 tory influences of the double government of the Marechal 
 de Villeroy and Monsieur de Frejus, he had a certain ex- 
 pression of ardor and resolution which stamped him as 
 the great-grandson of Louis XIV. ; and he had a trick of 
 
A SNARE. 391 
 
 putting on his hat like him. Warned at first against the 
 Due d'Orleans as the man in all France from whom he 
 had most to fear, he had felt that prejudice yield little by 
 little during the interviews which they had had together, 
 in which, with that juvenile instinct which so rarely is 
 deceptive, he had recognized a friend. 
 
 On his part, it must be said that the Due d'Orleans had 
 for the king, besides the respect which was his due, a love 
 the most attentive and the most tender. The small 
 amount of business which could be .submitted to his 
 young mind he always presented to him with so much 
 clearness and skill that a political task which would have 
 been wearisome with any one else became a recreation 
 when pursued with the regent, so that the royal child 
 always saw his arrival with pleasure. It must be con- 
 fessed that this work was almost always rewarded by the 
 most beautiful toys which could be found, — toys which 
 Dubois, in order to pay his court to the king, imported 
 from Germany and England. His Majesty therefore re- 
 ceived the regent with his sweetest smile, and with a pecu- 
 liar grace gave him his little hand to kiss, while the Bishop 
 of Frejus, faithful to his system of humility, had gone back 
 to the corner where he had been surprised by the arrival of 
 the regent. 
 
 "lam very glad to see you, Monsieur," said Louis XV. 
 in a sweet little voice and with a childish smile, from 
 which the etiquette imposed upon him could not take 
 away all grace ; " and the more glad to see you because, 
 since it is not your usual hour, I presume that you have 
 some good news to tell me." 
 
 " Two items, Sire," answered the regent. " The first is 
 that I have just received from Nuremberg a chest which 
 seems to me to contain — " 
 
 " Oh, toys ! lots of toys ! does it not, Monsieur le 
 
392 LE CHEVALIER D'HARMENTAL. 
 
 Regent 1 " cried the king, dancing joyously, and clapping 
 his hands, regardless of his valet-de-chambre, who was 
 standing behind him, holding the little sword with a cut- 
 steel handle which he was going to hang in the king's 
 belt. " Oh, the dear toys ! the beautiful toys ! how kind 
 you are ! Oh, how I love you, Monsieur le Eegent ! " 
 
 " Sire, I only do my duty/' answered the Due d'Orleans, 
 bowing respectfully, " and you owe me no thanks for that." 
 
 "And where is it, Monsieur? Where is this pretty 
 chest?" 
 
 " In my apartments, Sire ; and if your Majesty wishes 
 it brought here, I will send it during the day, or to-morrow 
 morning." 
 
 " Oh, no ! now, Monsieur ; now, I beg ! " 
 
 " But it is in my apartments." 
 
 " Well, let us go to your apartments," cried the child, 
 running to the door, and forgetting that he still needed, 
 for the completion of his toilet, his sword, his little satin 
 jacket, and his blue ribbon. 
 
 "Sire," said Frejus, advancing, "I would remark that 
 your Majesty abandons yourself too entirely to the pleas- 
 ure caused by the possession of things that you should 
 already regard as trifles." 
 
 "Yes, Monsieur; yes, you are right," said Louis XV., 
 making an effort to control himself. " But you must par- 
 don me; I am not yet ten years old, and I worked hard 
 yesterday." 
 
 "That is true," said Monsieur de Frejus, smiling; 
 "and therefore your Majesty will employ yourself with 
 the toys when you have asked Monsieur le Regent what is 
 the other piece of news which he came to bring you." 
 
 "Ah, yes, Monsieur; what is that second item of 
 news 1 " 
 
 " A work which will be profitable to France, and which 
 
A SNAKE. 393 
 
 is of so much importance that I propose to submit it to 
 your Majesty." 
 
 " Have you it here 1 " asked the young king. 
 
 " No, Sire ; I did not expect to find your Majesty so 
 well inclined to work, and I left it in my study." 
 
 " Well," said Louis XV., turning half toward Monsieur 
 de Frejus, half toward the regent, and looking at both of 
 them with an imploring eye, " cannot we reconcile all 
 that 1 Instead of taking my morning walk, I will go to 
 your apartments and see the beautiful Nuremberg toys; 
 and when I have seen them, we will pass into your study 
 and work." 
 
 "It is against etiquette, Sire," answered the regent; 
 " but if your Majesty wishes it — " 
 
 " Oh, I do wish it ! — that is," he added, turning and 
 looking at Frejus so sweetly that there was no resisting 
 him, " if my good preceptor permits it." 
 
 " Does Monsieur de Frejus see anything wrong in it 1 " 
 said the regent, turning toward Fleury, and pronouncing 
 these w T ords with an accent which showed that the precep- 
 tor would wound him deeply by refusing the request which 
 his royal pupil made him. 
 
 "No, Monseigneur," said Frejus; "quite the contrary. 
 It is well that his Majesty should accustom himself to 
 work ; and if the laws of etiquette are violated, that vio- 
 lation will bring about a happy result for the people. I 
 only ask of Monseigneur the permission to accompany his 
 Majesty." 
 
 "Certainly, Monsieur," said the regent, "with the 
 greatest pleasure." 
 
 u Oh, how good ! how kind ! " cried Louis XV. 
 " Quick ! my sword, my jacket, my blue ribbon ! Here I 
 am, Monsieur le Regent ; " and he advanced to take the 
 regent's hand. But instead of allowing that familiarity, 
 
394 LE CHEVALIER D'HARMENTAL. 
 
 the regent bowed, and opening the door, made a sign to 
 the king to precede him, and followed three or four paces 
 behind, hat in hand, together with Frejus. 
 
 The king's apartments, situated on the ground-floor, 
 were on the same level with those of the Due d'Orleans, 
 and were separated from them only by an antechamber 
 opening into the king's rooms, and a gallery leading thence 
 to the antechamber of the regent. The distance was 
 short, therefore, and — as the king was in haste to arrive 
 — they found themselves in an instant in a large cabinet 
 lighted by four windows, all forming doors, which opened 
 into the garden. This large cabinet led to a smaller one, 
 where the regent generally worked, and to which he 
 brought his most intimate friends and his favorites. All 
 his Highness's court was in attendance, — a very natural 
 circumstance, since it was the hour for rising. The young 
 king therefore did not notice either Monsieur d'Artagnan, 
 captain of the Gray Musketeers, or the Marquis de Lafare, 
 captain of the Guards, or a very considerable number of 
 the Light-Horse, who were drawn up outside the windows ; 
 but on a table in the middle of the room he saw the wel- 
 come chest, the great size of which caused him, in spite 
 of the somewhat chilling exhortation of Monsieur de 
 Frejus, to give a cry of joy. 
 
 However, he was obliged to contain himself, and receive 
 as king the homage of Monsieur d'Artagnan and Monsieur 
 de Lafare. Meanwhile the regent had called two valets-de- 
 chamhre, who quickly opened the lid and displayed the 
 most splendid collection of toys which had ever dazzled 
 the eyes of a king nine years old. At this tempting sight 
 the king forgot alike preceptor, etiquette, captain of the 
 Guards, and captain of the Gray Musketeers. He has- 
 tened toward this paradise which was opened to him, and 
 as if from an inexhaustible mine, from a fairy casket, from 
 
A SNARE. 395 
 
 a treasury of the " Arabian Nights/' he drew out succes- 
 sively clocks, three-deckers, squadrons of cavalry, battalions 
 of infantry, pedlers with their packs, jugglers with their 
 cups, — in short, all those wonders which, on Christmas 
 Eve, turn the heads of children beyond the Rhine, — and 
 with such undisguised transports of joy that Monsieur de 
 Frejus himself respected his royal pupil's happiness. The 
 spectators watched him with that religious silence which 
 attends great griefs or great joys. The silence was inter- 
 rupted by a violent noise in the antechamber. 
 
 The door was opened. An usher announced the Due 
 de Villeroy, and the marshal appeared, loudly demanding 
 to see the king. As they were, however, accustomed to 
 such proceedings, the regent merely pointed to his Majesty, 
 who was still continuing to empty the chest, covering the 
 furniture and floor with the splendid toys which he drew 
 from the inexhaustible receptacle. 
 
 The marshal had no ground for complaint ; he was 
 nearly an hour late, and the king was with Monsieur Fre- 
 jus, his colleague ; but none the less he grumbled as he 
 approached the king, and threw around glances which 
 seemed to say that if his Majesty was in any danger he 
 was there to defend him. 
 
 The regent exchanged a significant glance with Lafare, 
 and an almost imperceptible smile with D'Artagnan ; the 
 affair was progressing favorably. 
 
 The chest was emptied ; and after having allowed the 
 king to enjoy for an instant the sight of all his treasures, 
 the regent approached him, and, still hat in hand, recalled 
 to his mind the promise he had made to devote an hour 
 to the consideration of State affairs. 
 
 Louis XV., with that scrupulousness which afterward 
 led him to declare that punctuality was the politeness of 
 kings, threw a last glance over his toys, asked permission 
 
396 LE CHEVALIER D'HARMENTAL. 
 
 to- have them removed to his apartments, and advanced 
 toward the little cabinet, the door of which was opened 
 by the regent. Then, acting in accordance with their 
 respective characters, Monsieur de Fleury, under pretext 
 of his dislike of politics, drew back and sat down in a 
 corner, while the marshal darted forward, and seeing the 
 king enter the cabinet, tried to follow him. This was the 
 moment that the regent had impatiently expected. 
 
 " Pardon, Monsieur le Marechal," said he, barring the 
 passage ; " but I wish to speak to his Majesty on affairs 
 which demand the most absolute secrecy, and I beg, there- 
 fore, that you will allow me to remain a moment with him 
 in private." 
 
 " In private ! " cried Yilleroy ; "in private ! You 
 know, Monseigneur, that it is impossible." 
 
 " Impossible, Monsieur le Marechal ! " replied the regent, 
 with the greatest coolness ; " impossible ! and why, if you 
 please 1 " 
 
 " Because, as governor to his Majesty, I have the right 
 to accompany him everywhere." 
 
 " In the first place, Monsieur," replied the regent, " this 
 right does not appear to me to rest on any very positive 
 foundation ; and if I have till now tolerated, not this 
 right, but this pretension, it is because the age of the 
 king has hitherto rendered it unimportant. But now that 
 his Majesty approaches his tenth year, and that I am per- 
 mitted to begin instructing him in the science of govern- 
 ment, in which I am his appointed preceptor, you will see 
 that it is quite right that I, as well as Monsieur de Frejus 
 and yourself, should be allowed some hours of private in- 
 tercourse with his Majesty. This will be less painful to 
 you to grant, Marshal," added the regent, with a smile, 
 the expression of which it was impossible to mistake, 
 " because, having studied these matters so much yourself, 
 
A SNARE. 397 
 
 it is impossible that you can have anything left to 
 learn." 
 
 " But, Monsieur," said the marshal, as usual forgetting 
 his politeness as he became warm, " I beg to remind you 
 that the king is my pupil." 
 
 " I know it, Monsieur," said the regent, in the same 
 tone of raillery which he had assumed at the beginning of 
 the conversation. " Make of his Majesty a great captain ; 
 I do not wish to prevent you. Your campaigns in Italy 
 and Flanders prove that he could not have a better mas- 
 ter ; but at this moment, Monsieur le Marechal, there is 
 no question of military science. It is a matter involving 
 a State secret, which can be confided to his Majesty only ; 
 therefore you will not be displeased if I renewedly express 
 my desire to speak with the king in private." 
 
 " Impossible, Monseigneur, impossible ! " cried the 
 marshal, forgetting himself more and more. 
 
 " Impossible ! " replied the regent ; " and why 1 " 
 
 " Why 1 " continued the marshal ; " because my duty is 
 not to lose sight of the king for a moment, and because I 
 will not permit — " 
 
 "Take care, Monsieur le Marechal," interrupted the 
 Due d'Orleans, haughtily ; " I think you are about to 
 forget your proper respect toward me." 
 
 " Monseigneur," continued the marshal, becoming more 
 and more angry, "I know the respect which I owe to 
 your Royal Highness, and I also know what I owe to my 
 charge, and to the king ; and for that reason I will not lose 
 sight of his Majesty for an instant, inasmuch as — " 
 
 The duke hesitated. 
 
 " Well, finish, Monsieur," said the regent. 
 
 " Inasmuch as I answer for his person," said the marshal, 
 who, urged on by that challenge, did not wish to have the 
 appearance of backing out. 
 
398 LE CHEVALIER D'HARMENTAL. 
 
 At this abandonment of all restraint there was a mo* 
 nient's silence, during which nothing was heard but the 
 mutterings of the marshal, and the stifled sighs of Mon- 
 sieur de Fleury. 
 
 As to the Due d'Orleans, he raised his head with a smile 
 of sovereign contempt, and assuming that air of dignity 
 which made him, when he chose, one of the most im- 
 posing princes in the world, " Monsieur de Villeroy," said 
 he, " you mistake me strangely, it appears, and imagine 
 that you are speaking to some one else. But since you 
 forget who I am, I must endeavor to remind you. Marquis 
 de Lafare," continued he, addressing his captain of the 
 Guards, "do your duty." 
 
 Then the Marechal de Villeroy, seeing on what a preci- 
 pice he stood, opened his mouth to attempt an excuse, 
 but the regent left him no time to finish his sentence, and 
 shut the door in his face. 
 
 The Marquis de Lafare instantly approached the marshal, 
 and demanded his sword. The marshal remained for an 
 instant as if thunderstruck. He had for so long a time 
 been left undisturbed in his impertinence that he had 
 begun to think himself invincible. He tried to speak, 
 but his voice failed him ; and on the second and still more 
 imperative demand, he gave up his sword. At the same 
 moment a door opens, and a chair appears. Two mus- 
 keteers push the marshal into it ; it is closed. D'Artagnan 
 and Lafare place themselves at each side, and in the 
 twinkling of an eye the prisoner is carried out through a 
 window opening on the gardens. The Light-Horse fol- 
 low ; and at a considerable and increasing speed they 
 descend the staircase, turn to the left and enter the 
 orangery. There the suite remain ; and the chair, its 
 porters, and tenant, enter a second room, accompanied 
 only by Lafare and D'Artagnan. 
 
A SNARE. 399 
 
 All this had taken place so quickly that the marshal, 
 not distinguished for steadiness of nerve, had not had 
 time to recover himself. He had found himself disarmed ; 
 he had been carried away ; he was shut up with two men 
 who, as he was aware, professed no great friendship for 
 him, and always exaggerating his importance, he con- 
 cluded that he was lost. 
 
 " Gentlemen," he cried, turning pale, while perspiration 
 and powder ran down his face, " I hope I am not going 
 to be assassinated ! " 
 
 " No, Monsieur le Marechal, don't be alarmed," said 
 Lafare, while D'Artagnan could not help laughing at his 
 ridiculous figure ; " something much more simple, and 
 infinitely less tragic." 
 
 11 What is it, then 1 " asked the marshal, to whom this 
 assurance restored some tranquillity. 
 
 "There are two letters, Monsieur, which you were to 
 have given to the king this morning, and which you must 
 have in one of your pockets." 
 
 The marshal, who till that moment, in his anxiety 
 about himself, had forgotten Madame du Maine's affairs, 
 started, and raised his hand to the pocket where the let- 
 ters were. 
 
 " Pardon, Monsieur le Due," said D'Artagnan, stopping 
 his hand, " but we are authorized to inform you, in case 
 you should feel inclined to remove these letters, that the 
 regent has copies of them." 
 
 "I may add," said Lafare, "that we are authorized to 
 take them by force, and are absolved in advance from all 
 accidents that may happen in any struggle that may 
 ensue, supposing, which is not probable, that you should 
 wish, Monsieur le Marechal, to push rebellion so far as that." 
 
 " And you assure me," said the marshal, " that the 
 regent has copies of these letters?" 
 
400 LE CHEVALIER D'HARMENTAL. 
 
 " On my word of honor," said D'Artagnan. 
 
 " In that case," replied Villeroy, " I do not see why I 
 should prevent you from taking these letters, which do 
 not concern me in the least, and which I undertook to 
 deliver to oblige others." 
 
 "We are aware of that, Monsieur le Marshal," said 
 Lafare. 
 
 " But," added the marshal, " I hope you will inform 
 his Royal Highness of the readiness with which I sub- 
 mitted to his orders, and of my regret for having oifended 
 him 1 * 
 
 " Do not doubt it, Monsieur le Marechal ; all will be 
 reported as it has taken place. But these letters 1 " 
 
 "Here they are, Monsieur," said the marshal, giving 
 two letters to Lafare. 
 
 Lafare assured himself by the seals that they were really 
 the letters he was in search of. "My dear D'Artagnan," 
 said he, " now conduct the marshal to his destination, and 
 give orders, in the name of the regent, that he is to be 
 treated with every respect." 
 
 The chair was closed, and the porters carried it off. At 
 the gate of the gardens a carriage with six horses was 
 waiting, in which they placed the marshal, who now 
 began to suspect the trap which had been laid for him. 
 D'Artagnan seated himself by him, an officer of musket- 
 eers and Du Libois, one of the king's gentlemen, opposite ; 
 and attended by twenty musketeers, — four at each side, 
 and twelve following, — the carriage set off at a gallop. 
 
 Meanwhile the Marquis de Lafare returned to the 
 chateau with the two letters of Philip V. in his hand. 
 
THE BEGINNING OF THE END. 401 
 
 CHAPTEE XXXVI. 
 
 THE BEGINNING OF THE END. 
 
 The same day, toward two o'clock in the afternoon, while 
 D'Harmental, profiting by Buvat's absence, who was sup- 
 posed to be at the library, was repeating to Bathilde for 
 the thousandth time that he loved her, Nanette entered, 
 and announced that some one was waiting in his own 
 room on important business. D'Harmental, anxious to 
 know who could be this importunate visitor, pursuing 
 him even to the paradise of his love, went to the window 
 and saw the Abbe Brigaud walking up and down in his 
 room. D'Harmental instantly took leave of Bathilde, 
 and went up to his own apartments. 
 
 " Well," said the abbe, " while you are quietly making 
 love to your neighbor, fine things are happening." 
 
 "What things?" asked D'Harmental. 
 
 " Do you not know 1 " 
 
 " I know absolutely nothing, except that — unless what 
 you have to tell me is of the greatest importance — I 
 should like to strangle you for having disturbed me ; so 
 take care, and if you have no news worthy of the occa- 
 sion, invent some." 
 
 " Unfortunately," replied the abbe, " the reality leaves 
 little to the imagination." 
 
 " Indeed, my dear Brigaud," said D'Harmental, regard- 
 ing the abbe* more closely, " you seem to be in a terrible 
 fright. What has happened % Tell me." 
 
 " What has happened 1 Oh, nothing worth mention- 
 ing, — only that we have been sold out by some one; 
 
 26 
 
402 LE CHEVALIER D'HARMENTAL. 
 
 that the Marechal de Villeroy was arrested this morning 
 at Versailles, and that the two letters from Philip V., 
 which he was to give to the king, are in the hands of 
 the regent/' 
 
 D'Harmental perfectly understood the gravity of the 
 situation, but his face exhibited the calmness which was 
 habitual to him in moments of danger. 
 
 " Is that all? " he asked quietly. 
 
 " All for the present ; and if you do not think it 
 enough, you are difficult to satisfy." 
 
 il My dear Abbe," said D'Harmental, u when we entered ' 
 on this conspiracy it was with almost equal chances of 
 success and failure. Yesterday our chances were ninety 
 to a hundred ; to-day they are only thirty, — that is all." 
 
 " I am glad to see that you do not easily allow yourself 
 to be discouraged/' said Brigaud. 
 
 " My dear Abbe," said D'Harmental, " at this moment T 
 am a happy man, and I see everything on the bright side. 
 If you had taken me in a moment of sadness, it would 
 have been quite the reverse, and I should have replied 
 'Amen' to your *'De Profundis.' " 
 
 u And your opinion 1 " 
 
 " Is that the game is becoming perplexed, but is not yet 
 lost. The Marechal de Villeroy is not of the conspiracy, 
 does not even know the names of the conspirators. 
 Philip V.'s letters — as far as I remember them — do not 
 name anybody ; and the only person really compromised is 
 the Prince de Cellamare. The inviolability of his office pro- 
 tects him from any real danger. Besides, if Our plan has 
 reached the Cardinal Alberoni, Monsieur de Saint- Aignan 
 must serve as hostage." 
 
 " There is truth in what you say." 
 
 "And from whom have you this news?" asked the 
 chevalier. 
 
THE BEGINNING OF THE END. 403 
 
 "From Valef, who had it from Madame du Maine, 
 who, on receipt of the news, went to the Prince de Cella- 
 mare himself." 
 
 "We must see Valef." 
 
 11 1 have appointed him to meet me here, and on my 
 way I stopped at the Marquis de Pompadour's. I am 
 astonished that he is not here before me." 
 
 *' Raoul ! " said a voice on the staircase. 
 
 " Stay, it is he ! " cried D'Harmental, running to the 
 door and opening it. 
 
 " Thank you," said Valef, " for your assistance, which 
 is very seasonable, for I was just going away, convinced 
 that Brigaud must have made a mistake, and that no 
 Christian could live at such a height, and in such a 
 pigeon-hole. I must certainly bring Madame du Maine 
 here, that she may know what she owes you." 
 
 "God grant," said the Abbe Brigaud, "that we may 
 not all be worse lodged a few days hence ! " 
 
 " Ah, you mean the Bastille ! It is possible, Abbe ; 
 but at least one does not go to the Bastille of one's own 
 accord. Moreover, it is a royal lodging, which raises it 
 a little, and makes it a place where a gentleman may 
 live without degradation ; but a place like this — fie, 
 Abbe ! " 
 
 u If you knew what I have found here," said D'Har- 
 mental, a little piqued, " you would be as unwilling to 
 leave it as I am." 
 
 " Ah, some little bourgeoise, — some Madame Michelin, 
 perhaps. Take care, D'Harmental ; these things are 
 allowed only to Richelieu. With you and me, who are 
 perhaps worth as much as he is, but are unfortunately 
 not quite so much in fashion, it will not do." 
 
 " Well," said the Abbe Brigaud, " although your con- 
 versation is somewhat frivolous, I hear it with pleasure, 
 
404 LE CHEVALIER D'HARMENTAL. 
 
 since it assures me that our affairs are not in so bad a 
 plight as I thought." 
 
 "On the contrary, the conspiracy is gone to the devil." 
 
 " What are you saying, Baron % " cried Brigaud. 
 
 " I scarcely thought they would leave me time to bring 
 you the news." 
 
 "Were you nearly arrested then, my dear ValeH " 
 asked D'Harmental. 
 
 " I escaped only by a hair's breadth." 
 
 " How did it happen, Baron 1 " 
 
 "You remember, Abbe, that I left you to go to the 
 Prince de Cellamare ? " 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Well, I was there when they came to seize his papers." 
 
 " Have they seized the prince's papers 1 " cried Brigaud. 
 
 "AH except what we burned, which unfortunately were 
 the smaller number." 
 
 " Then we are all lost," said the abbe. 
 
 " Why, my dear Abbe, how you throw the helve after 
 the hatchet ! " 
 
 " But, Yalef, you have not told us how it happened," 
 said D'Harmental. 
 
 " My dear Chevalier, imagine the most ridiculous thing 
 in the world. I wish you had been there; we should 
 have laughed to kill ourselves. It would have enraged 
 that fellow Dubois." 
 
 " What ! was Dubois himself at the ambassador's 1 " 
 
 "In person, Abbe. Imagine the Prince de Cellamare 
 and myself quietly sitting by the corner of the fire, taking 
 out letters from a little casket, and burning those which 
 seemed to deserve the honors of an auto-da-fe, when all at 
 once his valet-de-chambre enters, and announces that the 
 hotel of the embassy is invested by a body of musketeers, 
 and that Dubois and Leblanc wish to speak to him. The 
 
THE BEGINNING OF THE END. 405 
 
 object of this visit is not difficult to guess. The prince — 
 ■without taking the trouble to choose — empties the casket 
 into the fire, pushes me into a dressing-closet, and orders 
 that they shall be admitted. The order was useless ; 
 Dubois and Leblanc were at the door. Fortunately, 
 neither one nor the other had seen me/' 
 
 " Well, I see nothing droll as yet," said Brigaud. 
 
 " This is just where it begins," replied Valef. " Remem- 
 ber that I was in the closet, seeing and hearing everything. 
 Dubois entered, stretching out his weasel's head to watch 
 the Prince de Cellamare, who, wrapped in his dressing- 
 gown, stood before the fire to give the papers time to 
 burn. 
 
 " ' Monsieur,' said the prince, in that phlegmatic manner 
 you know he has, ' may I know to what event I owe the 
 honor of this visit ? y 
 
 " \ Oh, mon Dieu, Monseigneur ! ' said Dubois, f to a 
 very simple thing, — a desire which Monsieur Leblanc and 
 I had to learn a little of your papers, of which,' he added, 
 showing the letters of Philip V., ' these two samples have 
 given us a foretaste.' " 
 
 " What ! " said Brigaud, " these letters, seized at ten 
 o'clock at Versailles, are in Dubois's hands at one o'clock ] " 
 
 " As you say, Abbe. You see that they travelled faster 
 than if they had been put in the post." 
 
 "And what did the ambassador say then?" inquired 
 D'Har mental. 
 
 " Oh, the prince wished to carry it off with a high hand, 
 by appealing to his rights as an envoy ; but Dubois, who 
 is something of a logician, showed him that he had him- 
 self somewhat violated these rights, by covering the con- 
 spiracy with his ambassador's cloak. In short, as the prince 
 was the weakest, he was obliged to submit to what he could 
 not prevent. Besides, Leblanc, without asking permission, 
 
406 LE CHEVALIER D'HARMENTAL. 
 
 had already opened the desk and examined its contents, 
 while Dubois drew out the drawers of a bureau, and rum- 
 maged in them. All at once Cellamare left his place ; and 
 stopping Leblanc, who had just taken a packet of papers 
 tied with red ribbon, he said, — 
 
 " ' Pardon, Monsieur ; to each one his prerogatives. 
 These are ladies' letters.' 
 
 " ' Thanks for your confidence,' said Dubois, not in the 
 least disconcerted, but rising and taking the papers from 
 the hand of Leblanc, *■ I am accustomed to secrets of this 
 kind, and yours shall be well kept/ 
 
 " At this moment, looking toward the fire, he saw — in 
 the midst of the burnt letters — a paper still untouched ; 
 and darting toward it, he seized it just as the flames were 
 reaching it. The movement was so rapid that the ambas- 
 sador could not prevent it, and the paper was in Dubois's 
 hands. 
 
 " ' Peste ! ' said the prince, seeing Dubois shaking his 
 fingers, ' I knew that the regent had skilful spies, but 
 I did not know that they were brave enough to go into 
 the fire.' 
 
 " ' Well, Prince,' said Dubois, unfolding the paper, ' they 
 are well rewarded for their bravery. See.' 
 
 " The prince cast his eyes over the paper ; I don't know 
 what it contained, but I know that the prince turned pale 
 as death; and that as Dubois burst out laughing, Cella- 
 mare, in a moment of wrath, broke into a thousand pieces 
 a little marble statue which was near his hand. 
 
 " ' I am glad it was not I,' said Dubois, coldly, looking 
 at the pieces which rolled at his feet, and putting the 
 paper in his pocket. 
 
 " \ Every one in turn, Monsieur ; Heaven is just ! ' said 
 the ambassador. 
 
 " ' Meanwhile,' said Dubois, ' as we have got what we 
 
THE BEGINNING OF THE END. 407 
 
 wanted, and have no time to lose to-day, we will set about 
 affixing the seals/ 
 
 " ' The seals here ! ' cried the ambassador, exasperated. 
 " ' With your permission,' replied Dubois. ' Proceed, 
 Monsieur Leblanc/ 
 
 " Leblanc drew out from a bag bands and wax, all pre- 
 pared. They began operations with the deslf and the 
 bureau, then they advanced toward the door of my closet. 
 
 " ' No,' cried the prince, ' I will not permit — ' 
 
 " ' Gentlemen/ said Dubois, opening the door, and in- 
 troducing into the room two officers of musketeers, ' the 
 ambassador of Spain is accused of high treason against 
 the State. Have the kindness to accompany him to the 
 carriage which is waiting, and take him — you know 
 where ; if he resists, call eight men, and take him by 
 force.' " 
 
 " Well, and what did the prince do then 1 " asked 
 Brigaud. 
 
 " What you would have done in his place, I presume, my 
 dear Abbe. He followed the two officers, and five minutes 
 afterward your humble servant found himself under seal." 
 
 " Poor Baron ! " cried D'Harmental ; " and how the 
 devil did you get out?" 
 
 " That is the beauty of it. Hardly had the prince gone, 
 leaving me under seal, when Dubois called the valet-de- 
 chambre. 
 
 " * What is your name 1 ' asked Dubois. 
 
 " ' Lapierre, at your service, Monseigneur. , 
 
 " ' My dear Leblanc,' said Dubois, ' explain, if you 
 please, to Monsieur Lapierre, what are the penalties for 
 breaking seals/ 
 
 " ' The galleys/ replied Leblanc, in that pleasant tone 
 that you know belongs to him. 
 
 " ' My dear Monsieur Lapierre/ continued Dubois, in 
 
408 LE CHEVALIER D'HARMENTAL. 
 
 a voice as sweet as honey, l you hear. If you would like 
 to spend a few days rowing on one of his Majesty's ves- 
 sels, touch one of these seals, and your object is gained. 
 If, on the contrary, a hundred louis are agreeable to you, 
 guard faithfully the seals that we have placed, and in 
 three days the money shall be given you/ 
 
 " * I prefer the hundred louis/ said the scoundrel. 
 
 " * Well, then, sign this paper. We constitute you 
 guardian of the prince's cabinet.' 
 
 " ' I am at your orders, Monseigneur,' replied Lapierre ; 
 and he signed. 
 
 " ' Now/ said Dubois, ' you understand all the respon- 
 sibility you have undertaken 1 ' 
 
 " ' Yes, Monseigneur/ 
 
 "< And submit to it V 
 
 * ' I do.' 
 
 " ' Now, Leblanc/ said Dubois, * we have nothing fur- 
 ther to do here, and/ he added, showing the paper which 
 he had snatched from the fire, ' I have all I wanted.' 
 
 '* And having said these words, he left, followed by 
 Leblanc. 
 
 " Lapierre, as soon as he had seen them off, ran to the 
 cabinet, and exclaimed, ' Quick, Monsieur le Baron ! you 
 must take advantage of our solitude and leave.' 
 
 " ' You knew, then, that I was here, you rascal 1 ' 
 
 " ' Of course ! I should n't have accepted the office of 
 guardian if I had n't known you were here. I saw you go 
 in, and I thought you would not like to stay there for 
 three days.' 
 
 " ' And you were right ; a hundred louis for your good 
 idea.' 
 
 " ' Mori Dieu / what are you doing 1 ' cried Lapierre. 
 
 " ' I am trying to get out/ 
 
 " " Oh, not by the door ! You would not send a poor 
 
THE BEGINNING OF THE END. 409 
 
 fellow to the galleys; besides, they have taken the key 
 with them.' 
 
 " ' And' where am I to get out, then % * 
 " ' Raise your head.' 
 " ' It is raised/ 
 " ' Look in the air.' 
 
 a ' I am looking.' 
 
 "   To your right. Do you not see anything ? f 
 
 " ' Yes, a little window/ 
 
 " ' Well, get on a chair, on a table, on anything you 
 find ; the window opens into the alcove. There, let your- 
 self slip now ; you will fall on the bed, — that is it. You 
 have not hurt yourself, Monsieur 1 ' 
 
 " * No. The prince had a very nice bed here, upon my 
 word. I hope he will have one as comfortable where they 
 are taking him.' 
 
 " ' And I hope meanwhile that Monsieur le Baron will 
 not forget the service I have rendered him.' 
 
 " ' Oh, the hundred louis 1 Well, as I do not want to 
 part with money at this moment, take this ring ; it is worth 
 three hundred pistoles, — you gain six hundred francs on 
 the bargain.' 
 
 " ' Monsieur le Baron is the most generous gentleman 
 I know.' 
 
 " * Now, tell me how I can get away.' 
 
 " ' By this little staircase ; you will find yourself in the 
 pantry. You must then go through the kitchen into the 
 garden, and go out by the little door.' 
 
 " ' Thanks for the itinerary.' 
 
 " I followed the instructions of Monsieur Lapierre ex- 
 actly, and here I am." 
 
 " And the prince, where is he % " asked the chevalier. 
 
 " How do I know 1 In prison probably." 
 
 " Diahle ! diable / diable /" said Brigaud. 
 
410 LE CHEVALIER D'HARMENTAL. 
 
 " Well, what do you say to my Odyssey, Abbe 1 " 
 
 " I say that it would be very droll, but for that cursed 
 paper which Dubois picked out of the cinders." 
 
 "Yes," said Yalef, " that spoils it." 
 
 " And you have not any idea what it could be 1 * 
 
 " Not the least ; but never mind, it is not lost, — we 
 shall know some day what it was." 
 
 At this moment they heard some one coming up the 
 staircase. The door opened, and Boniface appeared. 
 
 " Pardon, Monsieur Eaoul," said he ; " but it is not you 
 I seek, it is Papa Brigaud." 
 
 " Never mind, my dear Boniface, you are welcome. My 
 dear Baron, allow me to present to you my predecessor in 
 this chamber, — the son of my worthy landlady, Madame 
 Denis, and godson of our good friend the Abbe* Brigaud." 
 
 " Oh, you have barons for friends, Monsieur Eaoul ! 
 What an honor for our house ! " 
 
 " Well," said the abbe, " you were looking for me, you 
 said. What do you want % " 
 
 " I want nothing. It was my mother who sent for you." 
 
 " What does she want % Do you know % " 
 
 " Of course I know. She wants to ask you why the 
 parliament is to assemble to-morrow." 
 
 u The parliament assembles to-morrow ! " cried Valef 
 and D'Harmental. 
 
 " And for what purpose ? " asked Brigaud. 
 
 " Ah, that is just what bothers her, that poor woman." 
 
 "And where did your mother hear that the parliament 
 is to assemble 1 " 
 
 " I told her." 
 
 " Aud where did you hear of it 1 " 
 
 " At the office. Maitre Joullu was with the president 
 when the order arrived." 
 
 " Well, tell your mother I will come to her directly." 
 
THE BEGINNING OF THE END. 411 
 
 " Sufficit; she will expect you. Adieu, Monsieur Raoul ; 
 adieu, Monsieur le Baron." And Monsieur Boniface went 
 out, far from suspecting the effect he had produced on his 
 listeners. 
 
 " It is some coup-d'etat which is preparing/* murmured 
 D'Harmental. 
 
 " I will go to Madame du Maine to warn her," said 
 Valef. 
 
 " And I to Pompadour for news," said Brigaud. 
 
 " And I," said D'Harmental, " remain here. If I am 
 wanted, Abbe, you know where I am." 
 
 " But if you should not be at home, Chevalier 1 " 
 
 "Oh, I shall not be far off. Open the window, clap 
 your hands, and I will come." 
 
 Valef and Brigaud went away together, and D'Harmen- 
 tal went back to Bathilde, whom he found very uneasy. 
 It was five o'clock in the afternoon, and Buvat was still 
 absent ; it was the first time such a thing had happened 
 within the young girl's remembrance. 
 
412 LE CHEVALIER D'HARMENTAL. 
 
 CHAPTEE XXXVII. 
 
 THE BED OF JUSTICE. 
 
 The following day, about seven o'clock in the morning, 
 Brigaud came for D'Harmental, and found the young man 
 ready and waiting. They wrapped themselves in their 
 cloaks, drew down their hats over their eyes, and pro- 
 ceeded through the Rue de Clery, the Place des Victoires, 
 and the garden of the Palais Royal. 
 
 On reaching the Rue de l'Echelle, they began to per- 
 ceive an unusual stir. All the avenues leading toward 
 the Tuileries were guarded by detachments of musketeers 
 and light-horse, and the people, expelled from the court 
 and gardens of the Tuileries, crowded into the Place du 
 Carrousel. D'Harmental and Brigaud mixed with the mob. 
 
 Having arrived at the place where the triumphal arch 
 now stands, they were accosted by an officer of the Gray 
 Musketeers, wrapped in a large cloak like themselves. It 
 was Valef. 
 
 " Well, Baron," asked Brigaud, " what news 1 " 
 
 " Ah, it is you, Abbe," said Valef. <l We have been 
 looking for you, — Laval, Malezieux, and myself. I have 
 just left them ; they must be somewhere near. Let us 
 stop here ; it will not be long before they find us. Do 
 you know anything yourself?" 
 
 " No, nothing. I called at Malezieux's, but he had 
 already gone out." 
 
 " Say that he had not yet come home. We remained 
 at the Arsenal all night." 
 
THE BED OF JUSTICE. 413 
 
 " And no hostile demonstration has been made 1 " asked 
 D'Harniental. 
 
 " None. Monsieur le Due du Maine and Monsieur le 
 Comte de Toulouse were summoned for the regent's coun- 
 cil, which is to be held this morning before the beginning 
 of the bed of justice. At half-past six they were both at 
 the Tuileries ; so Madame du Maine, in order to get the 
 news as soon as possible, has come and installed herself in 
 her superintendent's apartments." 
 
 " Is it known what has become of the Prince de Cella- 
 mare % " asked D'Harmental. 
 
 " He is sent to Orleans, in a carriage with four horses, 
 in the company of a gentleman of the king's household, 
 and an escort of a dozen light-horse." 
 
 " And is nothing known about the paper which Dubois 
 picked out of the cinders 1 " asked Brigaud. 
 
 " Nothing." 
 
 " What does Madame du Maine think 1 " 
 
 " That he is brewing something against the legitimated 
 princes, and that he will profit by this to take away some 
 more of their privileges. This morning she lectured her 
 husband sharply, and he promised to remain firm, but she 
 does not rely upon him." 
 
 " And Monsieur de Toulouse 1 " 
 
 " We saw him yesterday evening ; but, you know, my 
 dear Abbe, there is nothing to be made of him, with his 
 modesty, or rather his humility. He always thinks that 
 they have done too much for him, and is ready to abandon 
 to the regent anything that is asked of him." 
 
 "By the bye,'the king?" 
 
 "Well, the king — " 
 
 " Yes ; how has he taken the arrest of his tutor ? " 
 
 " Ah, do you not know 1 It seems that there was a 
 compact between the marshal and Monsieur de Frejua 
 
414 LE CHEVALIER D'HARMENTAL. 
 
 that if one of them should be removed from his Majesty, 
 the other should leave immediately. Yesterday morning 
 Monsieur de Frejus disappeared." 
 
 " And where is he 1 " 
 
 " God knows ! The king, who had taken the loss of 
 his marshal very well, is inconsolable at that of his bishop." 
 
 " And how do you know all that 1 " 
 
 " Through the Due de Eichelieu, who went yesterday, 
 about two o'clock, to Versailles, to pay his respects to the 
 king, and found his Majesty in despair in the midst of 
 the china and ornaments which he had broken. Unfortu- 
 nately Richelieu, instead of encouraging the king's grief, 
 made him laugh by telling him a hundred stories, and 
 almost consoled him by helping him to break the rest 
 of the china and ornaments." 
 
 At this moment an individual clothed in the long robe 
 of an advocate, and with a square cap, passed near the 
 group which was formed by Brigaud, D'Harmental, and 
 Valef, humming the refrain of a song made on the marshal 
 after the battle of Ramillies. Brigaud turned round, and 
 under the disguise thought he recognized Pompadour. 
 The advocate stopped, and approached the group in ques- 
 tion. The abbe had no longer any doubt ; it was really 
 the marquis. 
 
 " Well, Maitre Clement," said he, " what news from 
 the palace?" 
 
 " Oh ! " answered Pompadour, " good news, particularly 
 if it be true.: they say that the parliament refuses to 
 come to the Tuileries." 
 
 " Vive Dieu / " cried Valef, " that will reconcile me 
 with the red robes. But they will not dare." 
 
 "Why not] You know that Monsieur de Mesme is 
 for us ; he has been named president through the in- 
 fluence of Monsieur du Maine." 
 
THE BED OF JUSTICE. 415 
 
 "Yes, that is true, but that is long since," said Bri- 
 gaud \ "and if you have nothing better to rely upon, 
 Maitre Clement, I should advise you not to count upon 
 him." 
 
 "Particularly," answered Yalef, "as he has just ob- 
 tained from the regent the payment of five hundred thou- 
 sand francs on his claim for arrears." 
 
 " Oh, oh ! " said D'Harmental ; " see ! it appears to me 
 that something new is going on. Are they coming out 
 already from the regent's council 1 " 
 
 Indeed, a great movement was taking place in the court 
 of the Tuileries ; and the two carriages of the Due du 
 Maine and the Comte de Toulouse left their post, and 
 approached the clock pavilion. At the same instant the 
 two brothers made their appearance. They exchanged 
 a few- words ; each got into his own carriage ; and the 
 two vehicles departed at a rapid pace by the waterside 
 wicket. 
 
 For ten minutes Brigaud, D'Harmental, Pompadour, 
 and Valef were lost in conjectures regarding this event, — 
 which, having been remarked by others as well as by 
 them, had made a sensation among the crowd, — but 
 without being able to assign it to its proper cause. Then 
 they noticed Malezieux, who appeared to be looking for 
 them. They went to him, and by his discomposed face 
 they judged that the information which he had to bring 
 was not comforting. 
 
 "Well," asked Pompadour, "have you any idea of 
 what has been going on 1 " 
 
 "Alas! " answered Malezieux, "I am afraid that all is 
 lost." 
 
 " You know that the Due du Maine and the Comte de 
 Toulouse have left the council] " asked Valef. 
 
 " I was on the quay when he passed in his carriage, and 
 
416 LE CHEVALIER D'HARMENTAL. 
 
 he recognized me, and stopped the carriage, and sent me 
 by his servant this little note in pencil." 
 M Let us see," said Brigaud, and he read : — 
 
 I do not know what is plotting against us, but the regent 
 invited us — Toulouse and me — to leave the council. That 
 invitation appeared to me an order, and as all resistance would 
 have been useless, seeing that we have in the council only 
 four or five voices, upon which I am not sure that we can 
 count, I was obliged to obey. Try to see the duchess, who 
 must be at the Tuileries, and tell her that I am retiring to 
 Rambouillet, where I shall wait for the turn of events. 
 Your affectionate, 
 
 Louis-Auguste. 
 
 " The coward ! " said Valef. 
 
 " And these are the men for whom we risk our heads," 
 murmured Pompadour. 
 
 "You are mistaken, my dear Marquis," said Brigaud ; 
 " we risk our heads on our own account, I hope, and not 
 for others. Is not that true, Chevalier? Well, what in 
 the devil is the matter with you?" 
 
 " Wait, Abbe," answered D'Harmental ; " I seem to 
 recognize — yes, the devil take me, it. is he! You will 
 not go away from this place, gentlemen 1 " 
 
 " No ; I answer for myself at least," said Pompadour. 
 
 "Nor I," said Valef. 
 
 " Nor I," said Malezieux. 
 
 " Nor I," said the abbe. 
 
 " Well, then, I will rejoin you in an instant." 
 
 " Where are you going 1 " asked Brigaud. 
 
 "Do not look, Abbe," said D'Harmental; "it is on 
 private business." 
 
 Dropping Valef's arm, D'Harmental began to press 
 through the crowd toward a person whom he had been 
 following with his eyes for some time, and who, thanks 
 
THE BED OF JUSTICE. 417 
 
 to his personal strength, had approached the gate with a 
 half-intoxicated damsel hanging on either arm. 
 
 " Do you see, my princesses 1 " said the person in ques- 
 tion, tracing architectural lines in the sand with the end 
 of his cane, while at every movement his long sword 
 fretted his neighbors' legs, — " here is what is called a 
 bed of justice. I know all about that. I saw what took 
 place at the death of the late king, when the will was 
 broken, and it was declared, with all due respect for his 
 Majesty Louis XIV., that bastards were always bastards. 
 You see, it takes place in a large hall, long or square, it 
 makes no difference which. The seat of the king is 
 here; the peers are there; the parliament is in front." 
 
 "Say, Honorine," interrupted one of the two young 
 women, " does this story that he is telling amuse you 1 " 
 
 " Not the least in the world. It was not worth while 
 to bring us here from the Quai St. Paul, promising us 
 a spectacle, just to show us fifty mounted musketeers 
 and a dozen light-horse running after one another." 
 
 " Say, then, old man," continued the first speaker, " it 
 seems to me that if we should go and eat a matelotte a 
 la Bapee, it would be more nourishing than your bed of 
 justice ; hey 1 " 
 
 " Mademoiselle Honorine," replied he to whom this 
 artful invitation was addressed, " I have already observed, 
 though it is hardly twelve hours since I had the honor of 
 making your acquaintance, that you are very ready with 
 your tongue, — a bad fault in a woman. Try, then, to 
 correct it, at any rate during the rest of the time you are 
 to be with me." 
 
 "I say, Phemie, does he mean to lead us about like 
 this till five o'clock in the evening, and give us nothing 
 but his fried omelet and his three bottles of white 
 wine, — the old fox ? To begin with, I warn you, 
 
 27 
 
418 LE CHEVALIER D'HARMENTAL. 
 
 my fine fellow, that I am off, if I am not fed right 
 away." 
 
 " Very fine, my passion, — as Monsieur Pierre Corneille 
 says, — very fine ! " replied the personage to whose vanity 
 this gastronomic appeal was addressed, seizing with each 
 of his hands a wrist of each of the young women, and 
 securing them under his arms as if with pincers ; " there 
 is no question here of a dish more or less. You belong 
 to me till four o'clock, according to the arrangement made 
 with Madame Something — what is her name ? " 
 « Yes, but fed, fed ! " 
 
 " The matter of food did n't enter for an instant into 
 the arrangement, my chickens ; and if any one has been 
 wronged in the affair, it is I." 
 " You 1 Stingy fellow ! " 
 " Yes, I ; I asked for two women." 
 " Well, you have them." 
 
 " Pardon, pardon ! I repeat : I asked for two women ; 
 that is to say, a blonde and a brunette. But taking advan- 
 tage of the obscurity, they gave me two blondes, which is 
 exactly as if they had given me only one, since the two 
 are just alike. It is I, then, who have the right to com- 
 plain. So let us say no more about it, my loves." 
 " But it is an injustice ! " exclaimed the two women. 
 "Well, the world is full of injustice. For instance, 
 they are probably doing an injustice at this very moment 
 to that poor Monsieur du Maine ; and if you had any feel- 
 ing, you would tniiiK only of the trouble they are prepar- 
 ing for that poor prince. As for myself, my stomach is 
 so full that it would be impossible for me to swallow the 
 least thing. Besides, you wanted to see the show. Well, 
 here it is, and a fine one ; look ! Who looks, dines." 
 
 "Captain," said the chevalier, tapping Roquefinette 
 on the shoulder, and hoping that, thanks to the move-* 
 
THE BED OF JUSTICE. 419 
 
 ment occasioned by the approach of the parliament, they 
 would be able to talk without being observed, " can I say 
 two words to you in private 1 " 
 
 " Four, Chevalier, four ; and with the greatest pleasure. 
 Stay there, my kittens," he added, placing the two young 
 women in the front row ; "and if any one insults you, 
 make me a sign. I shall be only two steps from here. 
 I am ready, Chevalier," he continued, drawing D'Harmen- 
 tal out of the crowd ; " I have recognized you for the last 
 five minutes, but it was not my business to speak first." 
 
 "And I see with pleasure," said D'Haruiental, "that 
 Captain Koquefinette is still prudent." 
 
 " Prudentissimo, Chevalier ; so if you have any new 
 overture to make, out with it." 
 
 " No, Captain, no ; not at present, at least. Besides, 
 the place is not suitable for a conference of that nature. 
 Only I wish to know, in case of my having need of you, 
 whether you still live in the same place % " 
 
 " Still, Chevalier ; I am like an ivy, — I die where I 
 grow. Only, like that, I climb ; which means that instead 
 of finding me, as you did the first time, on the first or 
 second floor, you will have to look for me on the fifth 
 or sixth, seeing that, by a very natural see-saw movement, 
 as my funds go down, I go up." 
 
 " What, Captain," said D'Harmental, laughing, and put- 
 ting his hand in his pocket, " you are in want of money, 
 and you do not address yourself to your friends % " 
 
 " I borrow money ! " cried the captain, stopping D'Har- 
 mental's liberal intentions with a sign ; "no. When I do 
 you a service, you make me a present; well and good. 
 When I conclude a bargain, you execute the conditions. 
 But I to ask without having a right to ask, — that may 
 do for a church rat, but not for a soldier. One may be 
 only a simple gentleman, and yet as proud as a duke and 
 
420 LE CHEVALIER D'HARMENTAL. 
 
 peer. But, pardon, pardon ; I see that my wenches are 
 crawling off, and I don't care to be cheated even by 
 creatures of that sort. If you want me, you know where 
 to find me. Au revoir, Chevalier! au revoir /" 
 
 And without waiting for D'Harinental's answer, Roque- 
 finette started in pursuit of Mademoiselles Honorine and 
 Euphemie, who, thinking they were out of the captain's 
 sight, were trying to take advantage of that circumstance 
 to seek elsewhere the matelotte to which the honorable 
 trooper doubtless would have been as much inclined 
 as they were, if perchance his pocket had been better 
 furnished. 
 
 Meantime, since it was only eleven o'clock in the morn- 
 ing, and in all probability the bed of justice would con- 
 tinue till four in the afternoon, and until then nothing 
 would be decided, the chevalier thought that instead of 
 remaining on the Place du Carrousel, he would do better 
 to turn the three or four hours which he had before him 
 to the profit of his love. Moreover, the nearer he ap- 
 proached to the catastrophe, the more need he felt of 
 seeing Bathilde. Bathilde had become one of the elements 
 of his life, one of the organs necessary to his existence ; 
 and at the moment when he might be separated from her 
 forever, he did not understand how he could live a single 
 day away from her. Consequently, pressed by the eter- 
 nal craving for the presence of the loved object, the 
 chevalier, instead of going to look for his companions, 
 went toward the Rue du Temps-Perdu. 
 
 D'Harmental found the poor child very uneasy. Buvat 
 had not come home since half-past nine the morning be- 
 fore. Nanette had been to inquire at the library, and to 
 her great astonishment, and the scandal of his fellow- 
 clerks, she had learned that he had not been there for 
 five or six days. Such a derangement in Buvat 's habits 
 
THE BED OP JUSTICE. 421 
 
 indicated the imminence of serious events. On the other 
 hand, the young girl had noticed in Raoul the day before 
 a sort of nervous agitation, which, though kept under 
 control, seemed to indicate the approach of an important 
 crisis. Thus, joining her old fears to her new anxieties, 
 Bathilde felt instinctively that a misfortune, invisible but 
 inevitable, hung above her, and at any moment might fall 
 upon her head. 
 
 But when Bathilde saw Eaoul, all fear arising from the 
 past or looking toward the future, was lost in the happi- 
 ness of the present. On his part, Raoul, either by exer- 
 cise of self-control, or by force of a sentiment like her 
 own, thought of nothing but Bathilde. Nevertheless, this 
 time the preoccupations on both sides were so powerful 
 that Bathilde could not help declaring to Raoul her anx- 
 ieties,, which he combated the more feebly because that 
 absence of Buvat linked itself in his mind with certain 
 suspicions that had already occurred to him, and which he 
 had hastened to dismiss. Time slipped by with its usual 
 rapidity, and four o'clock struck when the lovers fancied 
 that they had been together but a few minutes. It was 
 the hour at which Raoul generally took his leave. 
 
 If Buvat was to return, he would probably return at 
 this time. After exchanging a hundred vows, the two 
 young people separated, agreeing that if anything new 
 happened to either of them, whatever hour of the 
 day or night it might be, the other should be notified 
 immediately. 
 
 At the door of Madame Denis's house D'Harmental met 
 Brigaud. The bed of justice was concluded, and nothing 
 positive was yet known ; but vague rumors were afloat 
 that terrible measures had been taken. Authentic informa- 
 tion must soon arrive, and Brigaud had appointed a rendez- 
 vous with Pompadour and Malezieux at D'Harmental 'a 
 
422 LE CHEVALIER D'HARMENTAL. 
 
 lodgings, who, being the least known, would be the least 
 watched. 
 
 In about an hour the Marquis de Pompadour arrived. 
 The parliament had at first wished to make opposition, 
 but everything had given way before the will of the 
 regent. The King of Spain's letters had been read and 
 condemned. It had been decided that the dukes and 
 peers should rank immediately after the princes of the 
 blood. The honors of the legitimated princes were 
 restricted to the simple rank of their peerages. Finally, 
 the Due du Maine lost the superintendence of the king's 
 education, which was confided to the Due de Bourbon. 
 The Comte de Toulouse alone was maintained, during his 
 lifetime, in his privileges and prerogatives. 
 
 Malezieux arrived in his turn ; he had recently left the 
 duchess. They had just given her notice to leave her 
 apartments in the Tuileries, which belonged henceforward 
 to Monsieur le Due. Such an affront had, as may easily 
 be understood, exasperated the granddaughter of the great 
 Conde\ She had flown into a violent passion, broken all 
 the looking-glasses with her own hands, and had all the 
 furniture thrown out of the window ; then, this perform- 
 ance finished, she had got into her carriage, sending Laval 
 to Rambouillet, in order to urge Monsieur du Maine to 
 some vigorous action, and charging Malezieux to assemble 
 all her friends that evening at the Arsenal. 
 
 Pompadour and Brigaud cried out against the impru- 
 dence of such a meeting. Madame du Maine was evi- 
 dently watched. To go to the Arsenal the day when it 
 was known that her anger was at the highest pitch would 
 be to compromise themselves openly. Pompadour and 
 Brigaud were therefore in favor of going and begging her 
 Highness to appoint some other time or place for the ren- 
 dezvous. Malezieux and D'Harmental were of the same 
 
THE BED OF JUSTICE. 423 
 
 opinion regarding the danger of the step \ but they ooth 
 declared — the first from devotion, the second from a 
 sense of duty — that the more perilous the order was, the 
 more clearly honor called them to obey. 
 
 The discussion, as always happens in such circum- 
 stances, began to degenerate into a pretty sharp alterca- 
 tion, when they heard the steps of two persons mounting 
 the stairs. As the three who had appointed a meeting at 
 D'Harmental's were all assembled, Brigaud, who with his 
 ear always on the alert had heard the sound first, put his 
 finger to his mouth, to impose silence on the disputants. 
 They could plainly hear the steps approaching ; then a 
 low whispering, as of two persons questioning ; finally, 
 the door opened, and gave entrance to a soldier of the 
 French Guard and a little grisette. 
 
 The guardsman was the Baron de Valef. 
 
 As to the grisette, she threw off the black veil which 
 hid her face, and they recognized Madame du Maine. 
 
424 LE CHEVALIER D'HARMENTAL. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVIII. 
 
 MAN PROPOSES. 
 
 " Your Highness here ! your Highness at my lodging ! " 
 cried D'Harmental. " What have I done to merit such 
 an honor 1 " 
 
 " The hour is come, Chevalier," said the duchess, " when 
 it is right that we should show those whom we esteem the 
 opinion we hold of their merits. It shall never be said 
 that the friends of Madame du Maine expose themselves 
 for her, and that she does not expose herself with them. 
 Thank God, I am the granddaughter of the great Conde^ 
 and I feel that I am worthy of my ancestor." 
 
 " Your Highness is most welcome," said Pompadour ; 
 " for your arrival will relieve us of a serious embarrass- 
 ment. Decided, as we were, to obey your orders, we 
 nevertheless hesitated at the idea of the danger incurred 
 by an assembly at the Arsenal at such a moment as the 
 present, when the police had their eyes upon it." 
 
 " And I thought with you, Marquis ; so instead of 
 waiting for you, I resolved to come and seek you. The 
 baron accompanied me. I went to the house of the 
 Comtesse de Chavigny, a friend of De Launay, who lives 
 in the Rue du Mail. We had clothes brought there ; and 
 as we were only a few steps off, we came here on foot, and 
 here we are. On my honor, Messire Voyer d'Argenson 
 would be clever indeed if he recognized us in this 
 disguise." 
 
MAN PROPOSES. 425 
 
 " I see with pleasure," said Malezieux, " that your 
 Highness is not cast down by the events of this horrible 
 day." 
 
 " Cast down ! I, Malezieux ! I hope you know me too 
 well to have feared it for a single instant. Cast down ! 
 On the contrary, I never felt more vigor, or more deter- 
 mination. Oh, if I only were a man ! " 
 
 "Let your Highness command," said D'Harmental, 
 " and everything that you could do if you yourself could 
 act, we will do, — we, who stand in your stead." 
 
 " No, no ; it is impossible that any other should do what 
 I should have done." 
 
 " Nothing is impossible, Madame, to five men «as 
 devoted as we are. Moreover, our interest demands a 
 prompt and energetic course of action. It is not reason- 
 able to believe that the regent will stop at the point he 
 has reached. The day after to-morrow — to-morrow — 
 this evening, perhaps — we shall all be arrested. Dubois 
 gives out that the paper which he saved from the flames 
 at the Prince de Cellamare's is nothing less than the list of 
 the conspirators. In that case, he knows all our names. 
 We have, then, at this very moment a sword hanging over 
 each of our heads. Do not let us wait till the thread 
 which suspends it snaps ; let us seize it, and strike ! " 
 
 " Strike ! What, where, and how % " asked Brigaud. 
 " That abominable parliament has destroyed all our 
 schemes. Have we measures taken, or a plot made out? " 
 
 " The best plan which has been conceived," said Pompa- 
 dour, " and the one which offered the greatest chance of 
 success, was the first ; as is proved by the fact that but for 
 an unheard-of circumstance which intervened to defeat it, 
 it would have succeeded." 
 
 " Well, if the plan was good then, it is so still," said 
 Valef; "let us return to it!" 
 
426 LE CHEVALIER D'HARMENTAL. 
 
 " Yes, but in failing," said Malezieux, " this plan put 
 the regent on his guard." 
 
 " On the contrary," said Pompadour, " in consequence 
 of that very failure, it will be supposed that we have 
 abandoned it." 
 
 " And the proof is," said Valef, " that the regent, on 
 this head, takes fewer precautions than ever. For 
 example : since his daughter, Mademoiselle de Chartres, 
 has become Abbess of Chelles, he goes to see her every 
 week ; and he goes through the Bois de Vincennes without 
 guards, with only a coachman and two lackeys, and that 
 at eight or nine o'clock at night." 
 
 '" And what day does he pay this visit % " asked 
 Brigaud. 
 
 " Wednesday." 
 
 " Wednesday 1 that is to-morrow," said the duchess. 
 " Brigaud," said Valef, " have you still the passport foi 
 Spain ? " 
 " Yes." 
 
 * And the same facilities for the journey 1 " 
 " The same. The post-master is with us, and we shall 
 have only to explain to him." 
 
 " Well," said Valef, " if her royal Highness will allow 
 me, I will to-morrow call together seven or eight friends, 
 wait for the regent in the Bois de Vincennes, carry him 
 off, and in three days I am at Pampeluna." 
 
 " An instant, my dear Baron," said D'Harmental. " I 
 would observe to you that you are stepping into my shoes, 
 and that of right this undertaking belongs to me." 
 
 " You, my dear Chevalier ! you have already done what 
 you had to do ; now it is our turn." 
 
 " Not at all, if you please, Valef. My honor is con- 
 cerned in it, for I have revenge to take. You will there- 
 fore annoy me infinitely by insisting in the matter." 
 
MAN PROPOSES. 427 
 
 "All that I can do for you, my dear D'Harmental," 
 said Valef, " is to leave it to her Highness's choice. She 
 knows that we are equally devoted to her ; let her 
 decide." 
 
 " Will you accept my arbitration, Chevalier 1 " said the 
 duchess. 
 
 "Yes, for I trust to your justice, Madame/' said 
 D'Harmental. 
 
 " And you are right ; yes, the honor of the undertaking 
 belongs to you. I place in your hands the fate of the 
 son of Louis XIV., and of the granddaughter of the 
 great Conde. I trust entirely to your devotion and 
 courage ; and I have the greater hope of your success this 
 time because fortune owes you a compensation. To you, 
 my dear D'Harmental, all the peril ; but, also, to you all 
 the honor ! " 
 
 " I accept both with gratitude," said D'Harmental, 
 kissing respectfully the hand which the duchess offered 
 him ; " and to-morrow, at this hour, I shall be dead, or 
 the regent will be on the way to Spain." 
 
 " Very good," said Pompadour, " that is what I call 
 speaking ; and if you want any one to give you a helping 
 hand, my dear Chevalier, count on me." 
 
 " And on me," said Valef. 
 
 " And are we, then, good for nothing 1 " said Malezieux. 
 
 " My dear Chancellor," said the duchess, " to each one 
 his share. To poets, churchmen, and magistrates, advice ; 
 to soldiers, execution. Chevalier, are you sure of finding 
 the men who assisted you before 1 " 
 
 u I am sure of their chief, at least." 
 
 " When shall you see him ? " 
 
 " This evening." 
 
 " At what time % " 
 
 " Directly, if your Highness wishes it." 
 
428 LE CHEVALIER D'HARMENTAL. 
 
 " The sooner the better." 
 
 " In a quarter of an hour I will be with him." 
 
 " Where can we learn the result of the interview ? " 
 
 " I will come to your Highness, wheresoever you may be." 
 
 "Not to the Arsenal," said Brigaud; "it is too 
 dangerous." 
 
 " Can we not wait here 1 " asked the duchess. 
 
 " I would observe to your Highness," said Brigaud, 
 " that my pupil is a steady fellow, receiving scarcely any 
 one, and that a long visit might arouse suspicion." 
 
 " Can we not appoint a meeting where there would be 
 no such fear 1 " asked Pompadour. 
 
 " Certainly," said the duchess ; " at the stone in the 
 Champs Elysees, for instance. Malezieux and I will qome 
 there in a carriage without livery and without arms. 
 Pompadour, Yalef, and Brigaud will meet us there, each 
 one separately ; there we will wait for D'Harmental, and 
 arrange the final preparations." 
 
 " That will suit well," said D'Harmental, " for my 
 man lives in the Rue St. Honore." 
 
 " You know, Chevalier," replied the duchess ; "that you 
 may promise as much money as you like." 
 
 " I undertake to fill the purse," said Brigaud. 
 
 " You will do well, Abbe, for I know who will under- 
 take to empty it," said D'Harmental, smiling. 
 
 " Then all is agreed," said the duchess. " In an hour, 
 in the Champs Elysees." 
 
 Then the duchess, having readjusted her mantle so as 
 to hide her face, took Yalef s arm and went out. Male- 
 zieux followed at a little distance, taking care not to 
 lose sight of her. Brigaud, Pompadour, and D'Harmental 
 went out together, and D'Harmental went directly to the 
 Rue St. Honore. 
 
 Whether by chance or by calculation on the part of 
 
MAN PROPOSES. 429 
 
 the duchess, who appreciated D'Harmental, and understood 
 how fully she might rely upon him, the chevalier found 
 himself more than ever put forward in the conspiracy. 
 But his honor was engaged ; he had considered himself 
 obliged to do what he had done ; and although he fore- 
 saw the terrible consequences of the step which he was 
 about to take, he went boldly forward, resolved to sacrifice 
 everything, even his life and his love, to the fulfilment of 
 his promise. 
 
 He presented himself at La Fillon's with the same tran- 
 quillity and resolution as before, although many things 
 were altered in his life since then; and having been, as 
 before, received by the mistress of the house in person, he 
 inquired if Captain Roquefinette were visible. 
 
 Without doubt La Fillon had expected a much less 
 moral demand ; for on recognizing D'Harmental, she could 
 not repress a movement of surprise. Nevertheless, as if 
 she were still in doubt as to his identity, she asked if he 
 was not the same person who two months before had 
 come there to inquire for the captain. D'Harmental, who 
 thought that the previous visit would be to his advantage 
 in overcoming obstacles, should any arise, replied in the 
 affirmative. Nor was his conjecture at fault. La Fillon, as 
 soon as she was informed on this point, called to her a sort 
 of Marton, of quite elegant appearance, and directed her 
 to conduct the chevalier to chamber No. 72 in the fifth 
 story. The girl obeyed, took a candle, and ascended the 
 stairs, assuming meanwhile all the affectations of a sou- 
 brette of Marivaux. D'Harmental followed her. This 
 time no joyous song guided him in his ascent; all was 
 silent in the house. The serious events of the day doubt- 
 less had kept away from their usual rendezvous the patrons 
 of the captain's worthy hostess ; and as the chevalier him- 
 self had his mind directed at that moment to grave mat- 
 
430 LE CHEVALIER D'HARMENTAL. 
 
 ters, he mounted the six nights without paying the least 
 attention to the affectations of his conductress, who on 
 arriving at No. 72 turned to him and asked with a gracious 
 smile if he was not mistaken, and if it was really the 
 captain whom he wished to see. 
 
 For an answer the chevalier knocked on the door. 
 
 " Enter," said Eoquefinette, with his strong bass voice. 
 
 The chevalier slipped a louis into the hand of his guide, 
 opened the door, and went in. 
 
 The same change was observable in the interior as in the 
 exterior. Eoquefinette was not found sitting, as on the 
 former occasion, among the debris of a feast, surrounded 
 by slaves, and smoking his long pipe. He was alone in a 
 little dark attic, lighted by a single candle, which, nearly 
 burnt out, gave more smoke than flame, and whose flicker- 
 ing light imparted a fantastic expression to the harsh face 
 of the brave captain, who was standing leaning against 
 the chimney-piece. 
 
 " Ah ! " said Eoquefinette, in a slightly ironical tone, 
 "it is you, Chevalier? I expected you." 
 
 " You expected me, Captain % And what induced you 
 to do so?" 
 
 "Events, Chevalier, events." 
 
 " What do you mean % " 
 
 " I mean that you thought you could make open war, 
 and consequently you put poor Captain Eoquefinette aside 
 as a bandit, who is good for nothing but a nocturnal blow 
 at a street corner, or in a wood. You wanted to set up 
 again your little League, to reopen your little Fronde, — 
 and here is friend Dubois, who knows all about it ; here 
 are the peers on whom you counted going back on you ; 
 here is parliament saying, ' Yes,' instead of saying,   No.' 
 Now you come back to the captain. My dear Captain 
 here ! my good Captain there ! Is not this exactly what 
 
MAN PROPOSES. 431 
 
 has happened, Chevalier? Well, here is the captain; 
 what do you want of him 1 Speak." 
 
 "Really, my dear Captain," said D'Harmental, not 
 knowing exactly how to take this speech, u there is some 
 truth in what you say. Only you are mistaken if you 
 think we had forgotten you. If our plan had succeeded, 
 you would have had proof of my good memory, and I 
 should have come to offer you my credit, as I now come 
 to ask your assistance." 
 
 " Hum ! " said the captain, shaking his head ; " for 
 the last three days, while I have inhabited this new apart- 
 ment, I have made many reflections on the vanity of 
 human affairs, and have more than once felt inclined to 
 retire altogether from these enterprises, or, if I did under- 
 take one, to take care that it should be sufficiently brilliant 
 to insure my future." 
 
 " Well, what I come to propose to you is just what you 
 want. Without preamble, it is — " 
 
 "Is what?" asked the captain, who, seeing D'Harmen- 
 tal stop and look around uneasily, had waited two or three 
 seconds for the conclusion of the sentence. 
 
 " Pardon, Captain, but I thought — " 
 
 "What did you think, Chevalier?" 
 
 "I thought I heard steps, — a sort of creaking in the 
 wall." 
 
 " Ah !" said the captain, "there are not a few rats in 
 this establishment, I can tell you." 
 
 "Yes, that is- it; I am mistaken," said D'Harmental. 
 "Well, my dear Roquefinette, we wish to profit by the 
 regent's returning unguarded from Chelles, to carry him 
 off, and take him to Spain." 
 
 " Pardon ; but before going any further, Chevalier," said 
 Roquefinette, " I must warn you that this is a new treaty, 
 and that every new treaty implies new conditions." 
 
432 LE CHEVALIER D'HARMENTAL. 
 
 " No need of discussions on that point, Captain. You 
 shall yourself name the conditions; but can you still 
 dispose of your men ? " 
 
 " I can." 
 
 " Will they be ready at two o'clock to-morrow ? n 
 
 " They will." 
 
 " That is all that is necessary." - 
 
 " Pardon ; something else is necessary, — money to buy 
 a horse and arms." 
 
 " There are a hundred louis in that purse ; take 
 it." 
 
 " It is well ; you shall have an account of it" 
 
 " Then to-morrow, at my house, at two o'clock." 
 
 "Agreed." 
 
 " Adieu, Captain." / 
 
 " Au revoir, Chevalier. You will not be surprised if I 
 am somewhat exacting?" 
 
 " I want you to be so. You know that last time I 
 complained only of your being too modest." 
 
 " Good ! " said the captain ; " you are a generous fellow. 
 Let me light you ; it would be a pity that a brave man 
 like you should break his neck." 
 
 And the captain took the candle, which, now burnt 
 down to the paper, threw a splendid light over the stair- 
 case, and D'Harmental descended without accident. On 
 reaching the last step, he repeated to the captain a request 
 that he would be punctual ; and the captain promised 
 emphatically that he would. x 
 
 D'Harmental had not forgotten that Madame du Maine 
 waited with anxiety for the result of the interview. He 
 did not trouble himself, therefore, about what had become 
 of La Fillon, whom he did not see on leaving ; and having 
 gone down the Rue des Feuillans, he passed along the 
 Champs Elysees, which at that hour was almost com- 
 
MAN PROPOSES. 433 
 
 pletely deserted. Having arrived at the stone, he noticed 
 a carriage standing on the opposite side of the road, while 
 two men were walking at a little distance from it in a 
 cross-road. He approached the carriage; a woman, see- 
 ing him, put her head impatiently out of the window. 
 The chevalier recognized Madame du Maine; Malezieux 
 and Valef were with her. As to the two out walking, — 
 who, on seeing D'Harmental, eagerly approached the car- 
 riage, — it is needless to say that they were Brigaud and 
 Pompadour. 
 
 The chevalier, without naming Eoquefinette, or enlarg- 
 ing on the character of the illustrious captain, told them 
 in a few words what had taken place. This recital was 
 welcomed by a general exclamation of joy. The duchess 
 gave D'Harmental her hand to kiss ; the men pressed his. 
 It was agreed that the next day at two o'clock, the duch- 
 ess, Pompadour, Laval, Valef, Malezieux, and Brigaud 
 should meet at the residence of D'Avranches's mother, 
 No. 15 Faubourg St. Antoine, and that they should 
 there await the event. This was to be announced to them 
 by D'Avranches himself, who at three o'clock was to be 
 at the Barriere du Trone with two horses, — one for himself, 
 the other for the chevalier. He was to follow D'Harmental 
 at a distance, and return to announce what had taken 
 place. Five other horses, saddled and bridled, were to 
 be ready in the stables of the house in the Faubourg 
 St. Antoine, so that the conspirators might fly at once in 
 case of the chevalier's failure. 
 
 These plans settled, the duchess forced the chevalier to 
 seat himself beside her. The duchess wished to drive him 
 home ; but he told her that the appearance of a carriage at 
 Madame Denis's door would produce too much sensation, 
 and that, flattering as it would be to him, it would be too 
 dangerous for all. In consequence, the duchess set D'Har* 
 
 28 
 
434 
 
 mental down in the Place des Victoires, after repeatedly 
 expressing her gratitude for his devotion. 
 
 It was ten o'clock in the evening. D'Harmental had 
 scarcely seen Bathilde during the day ; he wished to see 
 her again. He was sure to find her at her window ; but 
 that was not sufficient, for what he had to say was too 
 serious and too private to be thrown in that way from 
 one side of the street to the other. He was thinking 
 under what pretext he could present himself to Bathilde 
 at so late an hour, when he thought he saw a woman 
 at the door of her house. He advanced and recognized 
 Nanette. 
 
 Nanette was there by Bathilde's order. The poor girl 
 was in a state of distressing anxiety. Buvat had not 
 returned. All the evening she had remained at the win- 
 dow to watch for D'Harmental, but had not seen him. 
 As she recurred to the vague ideas which had entered her 
 mind in the night on which the chevalier had attempted 
 to carry off the regent, it seemed to her that there must 
 be some connection between Buvat's strange disappear- 
 ance and the melancholy which she had remarked the 
 day before in D'Harmental's face. Nanette was waiting 
 at the door for Buvat and the chevalier. The chevalier 
 had returned ; Nanette remained to wait for Buvat, and 
 D'Harmental went up to Bathilde. 
 
 Bathilde had heard and recognized his step, and ran to 
 open the door. At the first glance she noticed the pen- 
 sive expression of his face. " Oh, mon Dieu ! Iiaoul ! " 
 she exclaimed, drawing the young man into her room and 
 closing the door behind him, "has anything happened to 
 you % " 
 
 " Bathilde," said D'Harmental, with a melancholy 
 smile, " you have often told me that there is in me some- 
 thing unknown and mysterious, which frightens you." 
 
MAN PROPOSES. 435 
 
 "Oh, yes, yes!" cried Bathilde ; "and it is the only 
 torment of my life, — my only fear for the future." 
 
 " And you are right ; for before I knew you, Bathilde, 
 before I had seen you, I had abandoned a part of my free- 
 will. This portion of myself no longer belongs to me, but 
 submits to a supreme law, and to unforeseen events ; it 
 is a black point in a clear sky. According to the way 
 the wind blows, it may disappear as a vapor or increase 
 into a storm. The hand which holds and guides mine 
 may lead me to the highest favor or to the most com- 
 plete disgrace. Tell me, Bathilde, are you disposed to 
 share my good and evil fortune, — the calm and the 
 tempest 1 " 
 
 "Everything with you, Raoul." 
 
 " Think of what you are undertaking, Bathilde. It may 
 be a happy and a brilliant life which is reserved for you ; 
 it may be exile ; it may be captivity ; perhaps — perhaps 
 you will be a widow before you are a wife." 
 
 Bathilde turned so pale that Raoul thought she would 
 fall, and held out his arms to support her. But Bathilde 
 was full of energy and will; she regained her self-com- 
 mand, and holding out her hand to D'Harmental, " Eaoul," 
 said she, " have I not already told you that I love you ; 
 that I never have loved and never can love any other 
 than you 1 It seems to me that all these promises you 
 ask are included in those words ; but since you wish them 
 renewed, I repeat them. Your life shall be my life, 
 Raoul ; your death shall be my death. Both are in the 
 hands of God. May the will of God be done on earth as 
 it is in heaven ! " 
 
 " And I, Bathilde," said D'Harmental, leading her before 
 the crucifix, " I swear that from this moment you are my 
 wife before God and before men; and while the events 
 which may dispose of my life leave me nothing but my 
 
436 
 
 love to offer to you, that love is yours, — profound, unal- 
 terable, eternal. Bathilde, a first kiss to your husband." 
 The two lovers fell into each other's arms, and exchanged 
 their first kiss while they renewed their vows. 
 
 When D'Harmental left Bathilde, Buvat had not re- 
 turned. 
 
DAVID AND GOLIATH. 437 
 
 CHAPTEK XXXIX. 
 
 DAVID AND GOLIATH. 
 
 Toward ten o'clock in the morning the Abbs' Brigaud 
 entered D'Harmental's room ; he brought him twenty 
 thousand francs, partly in gold, partly in Spanish paper. 
 The duchess had passed the night at the Corntesse 
 de Chavigny's, in the Rue du Mail. The plans of the 
 preceding day were in no degree changed, and it had 
 been ascertained that the regent would pay his accustomed 
 visit to Chelles. At ten o'clock Brigaud and D'Harmental 
 went down, — Brigaud to join Pompadour and Valef on 
 the Boulevard du Temple, and D'Harmental to visit 
 Bathilde, 
 
 Uneasiness was at its height in the little household. 
 Buvat was still absent ; and it was easy to see by Bathilde's 
 eyes that she had slept but little, and had wept much. 
 As soon as she saw D'Harmental, she understood that 
 some expedition like that which had so alarmed her 
 was preparing. D'Harmental again wore that dark cos- 
 tume in which she had never seen him but on that 
 evening when, on returning, he had thrown his mantle on 
 a chair, and displayed to her sight the pistols in his belt. 
 Moreover, his boots, armed with spurs, indicated that he 
 expected to ride during the day. All these things would 
 have appeared insignificant at any other time ; but after 
 the scene of the night before, after the nocturnal betrothal 
 we have described, they took a new and grave importance. 
 Bathilde tried at first to make the chevalier speak ; but he 
 
438 LE CHEVALIER D'HARMENTAL. 
 
 told her that the secret she asked did not belong to him- 
 self, and she desisted. 
 
 An hour after D'Harmental's arrival Nanette appeared 
 with an expression of consternation on her face. She 
 came from the library ; Buvat had not been there, and 
 no one had heard anything of him. Bathilde could con- 
 tain herself no longer; she fell into Eaoul's arms, and 
 burst into tears. 
 
 Then Kaoul confessed to her his fears that the papers 
 which the pretended Prince de Listhnay had given Buvat 
 to copy were papers of the greatest political importance. 
 Buvat had perhaps been compromised and arrested. But 
 Buvat had nothing to fear ; the passive part which he had 
 played in this affair did not endanger him in the least. 
 
 Bathilde, having feared some much greater misfortune, 
 eagerly seized on this idea, which left her at least some 
 hope. She did not confess to herself that the greater 
 part of her uneasiness was not for Buvat, and that all 
 the tears she had shed were not for the absent. 
 
 When D'Harmental was near Bathilde, time appeared 
 to fly • he thought he had been with her a few minutes 
 only, when the clock struck half-past one. Remember- 
 ing that at two o'clock he had to arrange his new treaty 
 with Eoquefinette, he rose to go. Bathilde turned pale. 
 D'Harmental, to reassure her, promised to come to her 
 again after the departure of the person he expected, and 
 for whom he was obliged to leave her. That promise 
 somewhat tranquillized the poor child, who tried to smile 
 when she saw what deep impression her sadness made on 
 Raoul. Twenty times they renewed the vows of the pre- 
 vious night, and twenty times promised to be devoted to 
 each other. They parted sorrowfully, but trusting in 
 each other, and sure of their mutual love. Besides, as we 
 have said, they thought they were parting for only an hour. 
 
DAVID AND GOLIATH. 439 
 
 The chevalier had been only a few minutes at his 
 window when he saw Eoquefinette appear at the corner 
 of the Rue Montmartre. He was mounted on a dapple- 
 gray horse, both swift and strong, and evidently chosen 
 by a connoisseur. He came along leisurely, like a man 
 who is indifferent whether he is seen or not. On arriving 
 at the door, he dismounted, fastened his horse, and as- 
 cended the stairs. As on the day before, his face was 
 grave and pensive; his compressed lips indicated some 
 fixed determination, and D'Harmental received him with 
 a smile which met with no answer on the captain's face. 
 D'Harmental at a glance took in all these different signs. 
 
 "Well, Captain," said he, "I see that you are still 
 punctuality itself." 
 
 " It is a military habit, Chevalier, and is not astonish- 
 ing in an old soldier." 
 
 " And therefore I had no doubt in regard to you ; but 
 you might not have been able to meet your men." 
 
 u I told you I knew where to find them." 
 
 " And where are they ? " 
 
 " In the horse-market at the Porte St. Martin." 
 
 "Are you not afraid they will be noticed?" 
 
 " How should twelve or fifteen men dressed as peasants 
 be noticed among three hundred other peasants, buying 
 and selling horses 1 It is like a needle in a bottle of hay ; 
 none but myself can find the needle." 
 
 " But how can these men accompany you, Captain ? " 
 
 " The simplest thing in the world. Each one has bar- 
 gained for the horse which suits him. Each one has 
 Offered a price, to which the vender replies by another. 
 I arrive, give to each twenty-five or thirty louis. Every 
 one pays for his horse, has it saddled, mounts, slips into 
 the holsters the pistols which he has in his belt, and, by 
 a different route from those taken by the others, arrives 
 
440 LE CHEVALIER D'HARMENTAL. 
 
 at a given place in the Bois de Vincennes at five o'clock. 
 Then only I explain to them for what they are wanted. 
 I again distribute money, put myself at the head of my 
 squadron, and we strike the blow, — supposing that you 
 and I agree on the conditions." 
 
 "Well, these conditions, Captain," said D'Harmental, 
 " let us discuss them. I think I have arranged so that 
 you will be satisfied with those that I propose to you." 
 
 " Let us hear them," said Roquefinette, sitting down 
 by the table. 
 
 "First, double the sum you received last time," said 
 the chevalier. 
 
 " Ah ! " said Roquefinette, " I do not care for money." 
 
 " What ! you do not care for money, Captain]" 
 
 " Not the least in the world." 
 
 " What do you care for, then 1 " 
 
 " A position." 
 
 " What do you mean ? " 
 
 "I mean, Chevalier, that every day I am four and 
 twenty hours older, and that with age comes philosophy." 
 
 " Well, Captain," said D'Harmental, who now began to 
 be seriously uneasy, " what is the ambition of your 
 philosophy 1 " 
 
 "I have told you, Chevalier. A position suitable to 
 my long services, — not in France, you understand. In 
 France I have too many enemies, beginning with the 
 lieutenant of police; but in Spain, for instance. Ah, 
 that would suit me well. A fine country, beautiful 
 women, plenty of doubloons ! Decidedly, I should like 
 a rank in Spain." 
 
 "The thing is possible; it depends on the rank you 
 desire." 
 
 " Well, you know, Chevalier, when one is wishing, it is 
 as well to wish for something worth the trouble." 
 
DAVID AND GOLIATH. ,441 
 
 " You make me uneasy, Monsieur," said D'Harmental, 
 " for I have not the seals of King Philip, to sign brevets 
 in his name. But never mind; speak." 
 
 " Well," said Roquefinette, "I see so many greenhorns 
 at the heads of regiments that I also have thought of 
 being a colonel." 
 
 " Colonel 1 Impossible ! " 
 
 "Why so?" 
 
 " Because, if they make you a colonel, you who only 
 hold a secondary position in the affair, what am I to ask, 
 — I, who am at the head 1 " 
 
 " Very well ; what I mean is this : I propose that we 
 change positions for the moment. You remember what I 
 said to you on a certain evening in the Rue de Valois ? " 
 
 "Aid my memory, Captain. I have unfortunately 
 forgotten." 
 
 " I told you that if I had an affair like this to manage, 
 things would go better. I added that I would speak to 
 you of it again. I do so now." 
 
 "What the devil are you talking about, Captain?" 
 
 " A simple matter, Chevalier. We made a first attempt 
 together, which failed. Then you changed batteries; you 
 thought you could do without me, and you failed again. 
 The first time you failed at night, and without noise ; we 
 each went our own way, and there was nothing known 
 about it. The second time, on the contrary, you failed in 
 broad daylight, and with an eclat which has compro- 
 mised all ; so that if you do not save yourselves by a bold 
 stroke, you are all lost, as Dubois has your names, and 
 to-morrow, to-night perhaps, you all will be arrested, — 
 knights, barons, dukes, and princes. Now, there is in the 
 world one man, and one only, who can free you from your 
 troubles. That man is Captain Roquefinette; and you 
 offer him the same place he held before ! You try to bar- 
 
442 LE CHEVALIER D'HARMENTAL. 
 
 gain with him ! Fie, Chevalier ! What the devil ! you 
 understand, — demands increase with the services to he 
 rendered. I am now an important personage. Treat me 
 as such, or I put my hands in my pockets, and leave 
 Dubois to do as he likes." 
 
 D'Harmental bit his lips, but he understood that he 
 had to treat with a man who was accustomed to sell his 
 services as dear as possible ; and as what the captain said 
 of their necessity was literally true, he restrained his 
 impatience and his pride. 
 
 "So, then," replied D'Harmental, "you wish to be a 
 colonel V 9 
 
 " That is my idea." 
 
 " But suppose I make you this promise, who can answer 
 that I have influence enough to ratify it % " 
 
 "And therefore, Chevalier, I reckon on managing my 
 little affairs myself." 
 
 "Where?" 
 
 "At Madrid." 
 
 "Who told you that I shall take you there?" 
 
 " I do not know if you will take me there •> but I know 
 that I shall go there." 
 
 " You, to Madrid ! What for % " 
 
 " To convey the regent." 
 
 " You are mad ! " 
 
 " Come, come, Chevalier, no big words. You ask my 
 conditions ; I tell them to you. They do not suit you. 
 Good-evening. We are not the worse friends for that." 
 And Roquefinette rose, took his hat, and was going toward 
 the door. 
 
 " What ! are you going % " said D'Harmental. 
 
 "Certainly." 
 
 "But you forget, Captain — " 
 
 " Ah ! it is true," said Roquefinette, intentionally mis- 
 
 / 
 
DAVID AND GOLIATH. 443 
 
 taking D'Harmental's meaning ; " you gave me a hundred 
 iouis. I must give you an account of them." He took 
 his purse from his pocket. " A horse, thirty louis ; a pair 
 of double-barrelled pistols, ten louis ; a saddle, bridle, etc., 
 two louis, — total, forty-two louis. There are fifty-eight 
 louis in this purse ; the horse, pistols, saddle, and bridle 
 are yours. Count ; we are quits." And he threw the 
 purse on the table. 
 
 " But that is not what I have to say to you, Captain." 
 
 "What is it, then 1 ?" 
 
 " That it is impossible to confide to you a mission of 
 such importance." 
 
 "It must be so, nevertheless, or not at all. I must 
 convey the regent to Madrid, and I alone, or he remains 
 at the Palais Royal." 
 
 " And you think yourself worthy to take from the 
 hands of Philippe d'Orleans the sword which conquered 
 at L£rida La Pucelle, and which rested by the sceptre 
 of Louis XIV. on the velvet cushion with the golden 
 tassels?" 
 
 "I heard in Italy that Francois I., at the battle of 
 Pavia, gave up his to a butcher." The captain pressed 
 his hat on his head, and once more approached the door. 
 
 " Listen, Captain," said D'Harmental, in his most con- 
 ciliating tone ; " a truce to arguments and quotations. Let 
 us split the difference. I will conduct the regent to Spain, 
 and you shall accompany me." 
 
 " Yes, so that the poor captain may be lost in the dust 
 raised by the dashing chevalier ; that the brilliant colonel 
 may throw the old trooper into the shade ! Impossible, 
 Chevalier, impossible ! I will have the management of 
 the affair, or I will have nothing to do with it." 
 
 " But this is treason ! " cried D'Harmental. 
 
 " Treason, Chevalier ! And where have you seen, if 
 
444 LE CHEVALIER D'HARMENTAL. 
 
 you please, that Captain Roquefinette is a traitor 1 Where 
 are the agreements which I have made and not kept 1 ? 
 Where are the secrets which I have divulged? I, a 
 traitor ! Good heavens, Chevalier, it was only the day 
 before yesterday that I was offered my weight in gold to 
 betray you, and I refused ! No, no ! Yesterday you 
 came and asked me to aid you a second time. I told you 
 that I was ready, but on new conditions. Well, I have 
 just told you those conditions. Accept them or refuse 
 them. Where do you see treason in all this?" 
 
 " And if I were weak enough to accept these conditions, 
 Monsieur, do you imagine that the confidence which her 
 royal Highness the Duchesse du Maine reposes in the 
 Chevalier d'Harmental can be transferred to Captain 
 Roquefinette 1 " 
 
 " What the devil has the Duchesse du Maine to do with 
 all this? You undertake a piece of business; there are 
 material hindrances in the way of your executing it your- 
 self; you hand it over to me, — that is all." 
 
 " That is to say," answered D'Harmental, shaking his 
 head, " that you wish to be free to loose the regent, if the 
 regent offers you, for leaving him in France, twice as 
 much as I offer you for taking him to Spain." 
 
 " Perhaps," replied Roquefinette. 
 
 " Hearken, Captain," said D'Harmental, making a new 
 effort to retain his sang-froid, and endeavoring to renew 
 the negotiations, " I will give you twenty thousand francs 
 down." 
 
 " Trash ! " answered the captain. 
 
 " I will take you with me to Spain." 
 
 u Fiddlesticks ! " said the captain. 
 
 " And I engage on my honor to obtain you a regiment." 
 
 Roquefinette began to hum a tune. 
 
 "Take care," said D'Harmental, "it is more dangerous 
 
DAVID AND GOLIATH. 445 
 
 for you now, at the point at which we have arrived, and 
 with the terrible secrets which you know, to refuse than 
 to accept." 
 
 "And what will happen, then, if I refuse?" asked 
 Roquefinette. 
 
 " It will happen, Captain, that you will not leave this 
 room." 
 
 " And who will prevent me ? " 
 
 " I ! " cried D'Harmental, bounding before the door, 
 a pistol in each hand. 
 
 "Your' said Roquefinette, making a step toward the 
 chevalier, and then crossing his arms and regarding him 
 fixedly. 
 
 " One step more, Captain," said the chevalier, " and I 
 give you my word I will blow out your brains." 
 
 " You blow out my brains, you ! For that it is 
 necessary, in the first place, that you should not tremble 
 like an old woman. Do you know what you will do? 
 You will miss me; the noise will alarm the neighbors, 
 who will call the guard, and they will question me as to 
 the reasons of your shooting at me, and I shall be obliged 
 to tell them." 
 
 " Yes, you are right, Captain," cried the chevalier, un- 
 cocking his pistols, and replacing them in his belt, " and 
 I shall be obliged to kill you more honorably than you 
 deserve. Draw, Monsieur, draw ! " 
 
 And D'Harmental, leaning his left foot against the door, 
 drew his sword, and placed himself on guard. It was a 
 court sword, a thin ribbon of steel, set in a gold handle. 
 Roquefinette began to laugh. 
 
 " With what shall I defend myself, Chevalier ? Do you 
 happen to have one of your mistress's knitting-needles 
 here?" 
 
 "Defend yourself with your own sword, Monsieur; 
 
446 LE CHEVALIER D'HARMENTAL. 
 
 long as it is, you see that I am placed so that I cannot 
 make a step to avoid it." 
 
 " What do you think of that, my dear % " said the cap- 
 tain, addressing his blade. 
 
 "It thinks that you are a coward, Captain," cried 
 D'Harmental, " since it is necessary to strike you in the 
 lace to make you fight." And with a movement as quick 
 as lightning, D'Harmental cut the captain across the face 
 with his rapier, leaving on the cheek a long blue mark 
 like the mark of a whip. 
 
 Roquefinette gave a cry which might have been taken 
 for the roaring of a lion, and bounding back a step, placed 
 himself on guard, his sword in his hand. Then began 
 between these two men a duel, terrible, furious, silent, 
 for both were intent on their work, and each understood 
 what sort of an adversary he had to contend with. By a 
 reaction very easy to be understood, it was now D'Har- 
 mental who was calm, and Roquefinette who was excited. 
 Every instant he menaced D'Harmental with his long 
 sword ; but the frail rapier followed it as iron follows the 
 loadstone, twisting round it like a viper. At the end of 
 about five minutes the chevalier had not made a single 
 lunge, but had parried all those of his adversary. At 
 last, on a more rapid thrust than the others, he came too 
 late to parry, and felt the point of his adversary's sword 
 at his breast. At the same time a red spot spread from 
 the chevalier's shirt to his lace frill. D'Harmental saw it, 
 and with a spring engaged so near to Roquefinette that 
 the hilts touched. The captain instantly perceived the 
 disadvantage of his long sword in such a position ; a 
 thrust "sur les amies," and he was lost. He made a 
 spring backward, his foot slipped on the newly waxed floor, 
 and his sword-hand rose in spite of himself. By a natural 
 movement D'Harmental took advantage of it, lunged 
 
DAVID AND GOLIATH. 447 
 
 within, and pierced the captain's chest, where the blade 
 disappeared to the hilt. He recovered to parry in return, 
 but the precaution was needless ; the captain stood still 
 an instant, opened his eyes wildly, dropped his sword, 
 and pressing his two hands to the wound, fell at full 
 length on the floor. 
 
 " Curse the rapier ! " he murmured, and expired ; the 
 strip of steel had pierced his heart. 
 
 Meanwhile, D'Harmental remained on guard, with hie 
 eyes fixed on the captain, lowering his sword only when 
 the dying man let his slip. Finally, he found himself 
 face to face with a corpse ; but this corpse had its eyes 
 open, and continued to look at him. Leaning against the 
 door, the chevalier remained an instant thunderstruck; 
 his hair bristled, his forehead became covered with per- 
 spiration. He did not dare to move ; his victory seemed 
 to him a dream. Suddenly the mouth of the dying man 
 set in a last convulsion ; the partisan was dead, and his 
 secret had died with hi in. 
 
 How to recognize, in the midst of three hundred 
 peasants, buying and selling horses, the twelve or fifteen 
 pretended ones who were to carry off the regent? 
 
 D'Harmental uttered a low cry ; he would have given 
 ten years of his own life to add ten minutes to that of the 
 captain. He took the body in his arms, raised it, called 
 it, and startled on seeing his reddened hands, let it fall 
 into a sea of blood, which, following the inclination of the 
 boards down a channel in the floor, reached the door, and 
 began to spread over the threshold. 
 
 At that moment the horse, which was tied to the 
 shutter, neighed violently. D'Harmental made three 
 steps toward the door ; then he remembered that Roque- 
 finette might have some memorandum about him which 
 would serve as a guide. In spite of his repugnance, he 
 
448 LE CHEVALIER D'HARMENTAL. 
 
 searched the pockets of the corpse, one after another ; but 
 the only papers he found were two or three old bills of 
 fare, and a love-letter from La Normande. 
 
 Then as he had nothing more to do in that room, he 
 filled his pockets with gold and notes, closed the door 
 after him, descended the stairs rapidly, leaped upon the 
 impatient horse, set off at a gallop toward the Rue 
 Gros-Chenet, and disappeared round the angle nearest 
 to the Boulevard. 
 
THE SAVIOR OF FRANCE. 449 
 
 CHAPTEE XL. 
 
 THE SAVIOR OF FRANCS. 
 
 While this terrible catastrophe was occurring in the attic 
 of Madame Denis's house, Bathilde, uneasy at seeing her 
 neighbor's window so long shut, had opened hers, and the 
 first thing she saw was the dappled-gray horse attached 
 to the shutter ; but as she had not seen the captain go in, 
 she thought that the steed was for Raoul, and that reflec- 
 tion immediately reawakened her fears. She consequently 
 remained at the window, looking in every direction, and 
 trying to read in the physiognomy of every passer-by 
 whether that individual was an actor in the mysterious 
 drama which was preparing, and in which she instinc- 
 tively understood that Raoul was to play the chief part. 
 She remained, then, with a beating heart, her neck 
 stretched out, and her eyes wandering hither and thither, 
 when suddenly her restless glances were fixed in one 
 direction. At the same moment the young girl uttered v. 
 a cry of joy, for she saw Buvat coming round the corner 
 from the Rue Montmartre. Indeed, it was the worthy 
 caligraphist in person, who, looking behind him from 
 time to time as if he feared pursuit, advanced with his 
 cane extended horizontally, and at a pace as rapid as 
 his short legs would allow. 
 
 While he enters, and embraces his ward, let us look 
 back and relate the causes of that absence which, we are 
 sure, has brought as much uneasiness to our readers as it 
 brought to poor Bathilde and the good Nanette. 
 
450 LE CHEVALIER 'D'HARMENTAL. 
 
 It will be remembered that Buvat, driven by fear of 
 torture to the revelation of the conspiracy, had been 
 forced by Dubois to make every day, at his house, a 
 copy of the documents which the pretended Prince de 
 Listhnay had given him. It was thus that the minister 
 of the regent had successively learned all the projects of 
 the conspirators, which he had defeated by the arrest of 
 Marechal de Villeroy, and by the convocation of parliament. 
 
 Monday morning Buvat had arrived as usual with new 
 packages of papers which D'Avranches had given him the 
 day before. They comprised a manifesto prepared by 
 Malezieux and Pompadour, and letters from the chief 
 noblemen of Bretagne, who, as we have seen, supported 
 the conspiracy. Buvat applied himself to his work with 
 his usual diligence ; but about four o'clock, as he rose 
 and took his hat in one hand and his cane in the other, 
 Dubois came in and invited him to go up with him to 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 min- 
 ister to his judgment, Buvat hastened to reply that he 
 thought it very pleasant. 
 
 " So much the better," answered Dubois ; " and I am 
 very glad that it is to your 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 person- 
 age as important as yourself 1 ?" 
 
 " But," asked Buvat, " am I then going to live in the 
 Palais Royal 1" 
 
 " For some days, at any rate," answered Dubois. 
 
 " Monseigneur, let me at least inform Bathilde." 
 
 "That is just the thing to be prevented; Bathilde 
 must not be informed." 
 
THE SAVIOR OF FRANCE. 451 
 
 " 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, " I am, then, a prisoner 1 " 
 
 " A State prisoner, as you have said, my dear Buvat. 
 But calm yourself ; your captivity will not continue long, 
 and while it lasts we will bestow on you all the attentions 
 that are due to the savior of France ; for you have saved 
 France, Monsieur Buvat." 
 
 " I have saved France," cried Buvat, " and am a pris- 
 oner under bolts and bars ! " 
 
 " And where the devil do you see bolts and bars, my 
 dear Buvat 1 " said Dubois, 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, and has 
 not even the least little lattice to intercept the view, — a 
 superb view. You are lodged here like the regent himself." 
 
 " Oh, my little room ! Oh, my terrace ! " murmured 
 Buvat, falling back despairingly into an armchair. 
 
 Dubois, who had other things to do than to console 
 Buvat, went out, and placed a sentinel at the door. 
 
 The explanation of this step is easy. Dubois feared 
 that, seeing the arrest of Villeroy, the conspirators would 
 suspect from what source the information came ; and that 
 Buvat, on being questioned, would confess that he had di- 
 vulged everything. This confession doubtless would have 
 arrested the conspirators in the midst of their schemes, 
 which, on the contrary, Dubois, informed beforehand of 
 all their plans, wished to see carried to a point, so that 
 he might make an end, once for all, of these little 
 conspiracies. 
 
 Toward eight o'clock in the evening, Buvat heard a 
 great noise at his door, and a sort of metallic clashing, 
 which did not tend to reassure him. He had heard many 
 lamentable stories of State prisoners who had been assassi' 
 
452 LE CHEVALIER D'HARMENTAL. 
 
 nated in their prisons, and he rose, trembling, and ran to 
 the window. The court and gardens of the Palais Royal 
 were full of people the galleries began to be illumir ated ; 
 the whole scene was full of movement, gayety, and light. 
 He heaved a profound sigh, thinking that perhaps he 
 must soon bid adieu to that world of life and activity. 
 At that instant the door was opened ; Buvat turned round, 
 shuddering, and saw two tall footmen in red livery bring- 
 ing in a well-supplied table. The metallic noise which 
 had so much disturbed him had been the clattering of the 
 silver plates and dishes. 
 
 Buvat's first impulse was to give thanks to God that 
 a danger so imminent as that into which he thought he 
 had fallen was transformed into a situation apparently so 
 tolerable; but almost immediately the idea occurred to 
 him that the deadly intentions entertained against him 
 were still the same, and that only the mode of their execu- 
 tion was changed. Instead of being assassinated, like 
 Jeansans-Peur, or the Due de Guise, he was to be 
 poisoned, like the Dauphin, or the Due de Burgundy. 
 He threw a rapid glance on the two footmen, and thought 
 he observed in them a certain sinister appearance which 
 marked them as the agents of a secret vengeance. Prom 
 this instant his determination was taken ; and in spite of 
 the scent of the dishes, which appeared to him only an 
 additional allurement, he refused all sustenance, saying 
 majestically that he was neither hungry nor thirsty. 
 
 The lackeys looked at each other knowingly. They 
 were sharp fellows, and had understood Buvat's character 
 at a glance ; and not understanding how a man should 
 not be hungry when before a pheasant stuffed with truffles, 
 or thirsty before a bottle of chambertin, they had pene- 
 trated the prisoner's fears pretty quickly. They ex* 
 changed a few words in a low tone ; and the bolder of 
 
THE SAVIOR OF FRANCE. 453 
 
 the two, seeing a way of drawing some profit from the 
 circumstances, advanced toward Buvat, who recoiled be- 
 fore him as far as the chimney, which prevented his 
 receding farther. 
 
 "Monsieur," said he, in a reassuring tone, "we under- 
 stand your fears ; and as we are honest servants, we will 
 show you that we are incapable of lending ourselves to 
 the dealings which you suspect. During the time that 
 you remain here, my comrade and I, each in turn, will 
 taste all the dishes which are brought you, and all the 
 wines which are sent in, happy if by our devotion we 
 can restore your tranquillity." 
 
 "Monsieur," answered Buvat, ashamed that his secret 
 sentiments had been discovered thus, — " Monsieur, you are 
 very polite, but in truth I am neither hungry nor thirsty." 
 
 " Never mind, Monsieur," said the man ; " as my com- 
 rade and myself desire not to leave the smallest doubt on 
 your mind, we will make the test we have promised you. 
 Comtois, my friend," continued the fellow, sitting down 
 in the place which had been intended for Buvat, "do me 
 the favor to help me to a little of that soup, a wing of 
 that pullet in rice, and two fingers of that chambertin. 
 There ; that is right. To your health, Monsieur ! " 
 
 " Monsieur," said Buvat, opening his eyes, and looking 
 at the footman who was dining so impudently in his 
 stead, — " Monsieur, it is I who am your servant ; T would 
 like to know your name, in order to preserve it in my 
 memory by the side of that of the good jailer who gave to 
 Come l'Ancien a proof of devotion like that which you 
 give me. That incident is narrated in 'La Morale en 
 Action,' Monsieur," continued Buvat, "and T take it 
 upon myself to say to you that you are in all respects 
 worthy of a place in that book." 
 
 " Monsieur," answered the valet, modestly, " I am called 
 
454 LE CHEVALIER D'HARMENTAL. 
 
 Bourguignon, and this 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 must taste everything ? It is a 
 severe test, I know, but where would be the merit of 
 being an honest man if it did not sometimes bring trials 
 like the present 1 To your health, Monsieur Buvat ! " 
 
 " Heaven preserve yours, Monsieur Bourguignon ! " 
 
 "Now, Comtois, hand me the dessert, so that I may 
 leave no doubt on Monsieur Buvat's mind." 
 
 " Monsieur Bourguignon, I beg you to believe that if I 
 had any doubts, they are completely dissipated." 
 
 " No, Monsieur, no ; I beg your pardon, you still have 
 some. Comtois, my friend, now the hot coffee, yery hot ; 
 I wish to drink it exactly as Monsieur would have desired 
 it to be, and I presume it is thus that Monsieur likes it." 
 
 " Boiling, Monsieur, boiling," answered Buvat, bowing. 
 
 " Ah ! " said Bourguignon, sipping his coffee, and raising 
 his eyes ecstatically to the ceiling, " you are right, Mon- 
 sieur. It is only so that coffee is good ; cold, it is a very 
 ordinary beverage. This, I may say, is excellent. Comtois, 
 my friend, receive my compliments ; you wait admirably. 
 Now help me to take away the table. You know there 
 is nothing more unpleasant than the smell of wines and 
 viands to those who are not hungry or thirsty. Mon- 
 sieur," continued Bourguignon, stepping toward the door, 
 which he had kept carefully shut during the repast, and 
 which he opened while his companion pushed forward the 
 table, — " Monsieur, if you have need of anything, you 
 have three bells, one at the head of your bed, and two at 
 the mantel-piece. Those at the mantel-piece are for us, 
 that at the bed for your valet-de-chambre." 
 
THE SAVIOR OF FRANCE. 455 
 
 " Thank you, Monsieur," said Buvat ; " you are too 
 good. I do not wish to disturb any one." 
 
 " Do not trouble yourself about that, Monsieur ; 
 Monseigneur desires that you 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 much devotion ; " nothing except to express 
 my gratitude." 
 
 " I. have only done my dut}^ Monsieur," answered Bour- 
 guignon, modestly, bowing for the last time, and shutting 
 the door. 
 
 " Upon my word ! " said Buvat, following Bourguignon 
 with his eyes, " it must be allowed that some proverbs are 
 great liajs. They say, ' As insolent as a lackey,' and yet 
 here is an individual in the exercise of that calling who is 
 politeness itself. I shall never believe in proverbs again, 
 or rather, I shall make distinctions among them." And 
 making himself this promise, Buvat found himself alone. 
 
 Nothing makes a man so hungry as the sight of a good 
 dinner, of which the odor only comes to him. That which 
 had just been eaten under the good man's very eyes sur- 
 passed in luxury everything that he had ever dreamed 
 of, and he began — influenced by the decided calls of his 
 stomach — to reproach himself for his too great distrust 
 of his persecutors ; but it was too late. Buvat, it is true, 
 might have rung for Monsieur Bourguignon, or for Mon- 
 sieur Comtois, and requested a second dinner ; but he was 
 of too timid a character for that, and the result was that 
 he had to search his stock of proverbs for one the most 
 consoling, and having found, between his situation and 
 the proverb, " He who sleeps dines," an analogy which 
 seemed to him most direct, he resolved to heed that 
 
456 LE CHEVALIER D'HARMENTAL. 
 
 proverb, and as he could not dine, to endeavor at least 
 to sleep. 
 
 But at the moment of taking this resolution, Buvat 
 found himself assailed by new fears. Could they not 
 profit by his sleep to despatch him ? The night is the 
 time of ambushes. He had often heard his mother tell 
 of beds which, by the lowering of their canopies, smoth- 
 ered the unfortunate sleeper ; of beds which sank through 
 a trap so quietly as not to wake the occupant; finally, 
 of secret doors opening in walls and even in furniture, to 
 give entrance to assassins. This sumptuous dinner, these 
 rich wines, — had they not been sent him to insure a 
 sounder sleep 1 All this was possible, to say the least ; 
 and therefore Buvat, in whom the instinct of self-preser- 
 vation was strongly developed, took his candle, and began 
 a most minute investigation. After opening the doors 
 of all the cupboards, pulling out all the drawers of the 
 bureaus, and sounding all the panelling, Buvat had gone 
 down on his hands and feet, and was stretching his head 
 timidly under the bed, when he thought he heard steps 
 behind him. His position was such that he was unable 
 to act on the defensive ; he therefore remained motionless, 
 and waited with a beating heart. After a few seconds 
 of solemn silence, — 
 
 " Pardon," said a voice which made Buvat tremble, 
 " but is not Monsieur looking for his night-cap 1 " 
 
 Buvat was discovered ; there was no way of escaping 
 the danger, if danger there was. He therefore drew his 
 head from under the bed, took his candle, and remaining 
 on his knees, as in a humble and beseeching posture, he 
 turned toward the individual who had just addressed him, 
 and found himself face to face with a man dressed in 
 black, and carrying, folded up on his arm, many articles 
 which Buvat thought he recognized as things to wear. 
 
 $s$& 
 
THE SAVIOR OF FRANCE. 457 
 
 "Yes, Monsieur," said he, seizing the opening which 
 was offered to him with a presence of mind on which he 
 secretly congratulated himself, "that is just what I am 
 looking for j is that search forbidden 1 " 
 
 " Why did not Monsieur, instead of troubling himself, 
 ring the bell 1 I have the honor to be appointed Mon- 
 sieur's valet-de-chambre, and I have brought him a night- 
 cap and night-shirt." 
 
 And with these words the valet-de-chambre spread out 
 on the bed a night-shirt embroidered with flowers, a cap 
 of the finest lawn, and a rose-colored ribbon. Buvat, still 
 on his knees, regarded him with the greatest astonishment. 
 
 " Now," said the valet-de-chambre, " will Monsieur allow 
 me to help him to undress 1 " 
 
 "No, Monsieur, no," said Buvat, whose modesty was 
 easily alarmed, but accompanying the refusal with the 
 sweetest 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 
 increasing hunger rendered sleep more necessary, Buvat 
 with a sigh began to undress, placed, in order not to be 
 left in the dark, a candle on the corner of the chimney- 
 piece, and sprang, with a groan, into the softest and 
 warmest bed he had ever known. 
 
 But the bed does not insure sleep ; and that is an 
 axiom which Buvat might have added, from experience, 
 to the list of his veracious proverbs. By reason either of 
 his fears or of his hunger, Buvat passed a very disturbed 
 night, and it was not till near morning that he fell asleep ; 
 even then his slumbers were visited by the most absurd 
 and frightful nightmares. He had just dreamed of being 
 poisoned by a leg of mutton, when the valet-de-chambre 
 entered, and asked at what time he would like breakfast. 
 
458 LE CHEVALIER D'HARMENTAL. 
 
 This question was so pertinent as a sequel to his dream 
 that Buvat shuddered from head to foot at the idea of 
 eating the least thing. He answered with a sort of sup- 
 pressed groan, which doubtless seemed to the valet-de- 
 chambre to have some meaning ; for he immediately 
 withdrew, saying that Monsieur was about to be served. 
 
 Buvat was not in the habit of breakfasting in bed, so 
 he rose quickly and dressed in haste. He had just fin- 
 ished, when Messieurs Bourguignon and Comtois entered, 
 bringing the breakfast, as the day before they had brought 
 the dinner. 
 
 Then took place a repetition of the scene which we 
 have before related, with the exception that now it was 
 Monsieur Comtois who ate and Monsieur Bourguignon 
 who waited ; but when they came to the coffee, and Buvat, 
 who had taken nothing for twenty-four hours, saw his 
 dearly loved beverage, after having passed from the silver 
 coffee-pot into the porcelain cup, pass into the mouth of 
 Monsieur Comtois, he could hold out no longer, and de- 
 clared that his stomach demanded to be amused with 
 something, and that consequently he desired that they 
 would leave him the coffee and a roll. This declaration 
 appeared to disturb the devotion of Monsieur Comtois, 
 who was nevertheless compelled to limit himself to a 
 single cup of the odoriferous liquid, the remainder of 
 which, together with a roll and the sugar, was placed on 
 a little table, while the two scamps carried off the rest 
 of the feast, laughing in their sleeves. 
 
 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 and drank the coffee ; then, a little 
 comforted by that repast, insufficient as it was, he began 
 to look at things in a less sinister light. 
 
 In truth, Buvat was not wanting in a certain good 
 
THE SAVIOR OF FRANCE. 459 
 
 sense, and as he had passed the preceding evening and 
 night and entered on the present morning without inter- 
 ference, he began to understand that though for some 
 political purpose his oppressors had deprived him of his 
 liberty, they were far from wishing to shorten his days ; 
 that, on the contrary, they were bestowing upon him 
 attentions of which he had never before been the object, — 
 for in spite of himself, Buvat was susceptible to the 
 seductive power of luxury, which insinuates itself through 
 all the pores, and expands the heart. He had seen that 
 the dinner of the day before was better than his ordinary 
 dinner ; that the bed was softer than his ordinary bed ; 
 that the coffee he had just drunk possessed an aroma 
 which the mixture of chiccory took away from his ; 
 and he could not conceal from himself that the elastic 
 couches and stuffed chairs which he had sat upon for the 
 last twenty-four hours were much preferable to the hair 
 sofa and cane chairs of his own establishment. The only 
 thing, then, which remained to trouble him, was the un- 
 easiness which Bathilde would feel at his not returning. 
 He had for an instant the idea, not daring to renew the 
 request which he had made to Dubois the day before, that 
 he might send some message to his ward, of imitating 
 the man with the iron mask, who had thrown a silver 
 plate from the window of his prison to the shore, by 
 throwing a letter from his balcony into the courtyard of 
 the Palais Royal ; but he knew what a fatal result this 
 infraction of the will of Monsieur de Saint-Mars had had 
 for the unfortunate prisoner, and he feared therefore that 
 he might increase, by an act of that kind, the rigors of his 
 captivity, which at present seemed to him tolerable. 
 
 The result of all these reflections was that Buvat got 
 through the morning with much less agitation than he 
 had experienced during the night and the preceding even- 
 
460 LE CHEVALIER D'HARMENTAL. 
 
 ing. Moreover, his stomach, appeased by the coffee and 
 the roll, imposed on him only that slight measure of 
 appetite which when one is sure of a good dinner is but 
 an additional source of pleasure. Add to all this the par- 
 ticularly cheerful view which the prisoner had from his 
 window, and it will be easily understood that he passed 
 the hours till one o'clock without an excess of grief or 
 of ennui. 
 
 Exactly at one o'clock the door opened, and the table 
 reappeared, ready laid, and brought, as on the day before 
 and that morning, by the two valets. But this time it was 
 neither Monsieur Bourguignon nor Monsieur Comtois who 
 sat down to it. Buvat declared himself perfectly reas- 
 sured concerning the intentions of his august host ; he 
 thanked Messieurs Comtois and Bourguignon for the de- 
 votion of which each in turn had given him a proof, and 
 begged them to wait upon him in their turn. The two 
 servants made wry faces, but obeyed. 
 
 It will be understood that the happy disposition in 
 which Buvat now was became more beatific under the 
 influence of a good dinner. Buvat ate from all the dishes, 
 drank of all the wines, and at last, having slowly imbibed a 
 cup of coffee, — a luxury in which he was wont to indulge 
 only on Sundays, — and having swallowed on the top of 
 the Arabian nectar a glass of Madame Anfoux's liqueur, 
 he was, it must be confessed, in a state bordering upon 
 ecstasy. 
 
 That evening the supper was equally successful ; but as 
 Buvat abandoned himself rather more freely than at din- 
 ner to the consumption of chambertin and sillery, about 
 eight o'clock in the evening he found himself in a state of 
 contentment impossible to describe. The consequence 
 was that when the valet-de-chambre entered, instead of 
 finding him, as on the evening before, on his hands and 
 
THE SAVIOR OF FRANCE. 461 
 
 knees, with his head under the bed, he found him seated 
 in a comfortable armchair, his feet on the hobs, his head 
 leaning back, his eyes winking, while he sang in a low 
 tone and with an expression of infinite tenderness : 
 " Then let me go, 
 
 And let me play, 
 
 Beneath the hazel-tree." 
 
 These were obvious indications of a great improvement 
 in the state of the worthy writer since the evening before. 
 Moreover, when the valet-de-chambre offered to help him 
 to undress, Buvat, who found a slight difficulty in express- 
 ing his thoughts, contented himself with smiling in sign 
 of approbation ; then he extended his .arms to have his 
 coat taken off, and then his legs to have his slippers re- 
 moved. But in spite of his state of exaltation, it is only 
 just to Buvat to say that his natural reserve did not per- 
 mit a more complete abandonment, and it was only when 
 he found himself alone that he laid aside the rest of his 
 garments. 
 
 This time, contrary to what he had done the night 
 before, he stretched himself out luxuriously in his bed, 
 fell asleep in five minutes, and dreamed that he was the 
 Grand Turk, and that, like King Solomon, he had three 
 hundred wives and five hundred concubines. We hasten 
 to say that this was the only dream of a somewhat too 
 lively character that visited the modest Buvat in the 
 course of his chaste life. 
 
 In the morning Buvat awoke as fresh as a rose, having 
 only one trouble, — the thought of Bathilde's anxiety ; 
 otherwise he was perfectly happy. 
 
 It may easily be imagined that the breakfast did not 
 lessen his good spirits. On the contrary, being informed 
 that he might write to Monsieur the Archbishop of Cambrai, 
 he asked for paper and ink, which were brought him, took 
 
462 LE CHEVALIER D'HARMENTAL. 
 
 from his pocket his penknife, which never left him, cut 
 his pen with the greatest care, and began, in his finest 
 writing, a most touching request that if his captivity was 
 to be prolonged, 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 the kindness of Mon- 
 seigneur the prime minister 
 
 This request, to the caligraphy of which Buvat had de- 
 voted no little care, and whose capital letters represented 
 different plants, trees, or animals, occupied the worthy 
 writer from breakfast till dinner. On sitting down to 
 table, he gave the note to Bourguignon, who charged himself 
 with carrying it to the prime minister, saying that Comtois 
 would wait during his absence. In a quarter of an hour 
 Bourguignon returned, and informed Buvat that Mon- 
 seigneur had gone out, but that in his absence the peti- 
 tion had been given to the person who aided him in his 
 public affairs, and that person had requested that Monsieur 
 Buvat would come and see him as soon as he had finished 
 his dinner, but hoped that Monsieur would not in any 
 degree hurry himself, since he who made the request was 
 himself at dinner. In accordance with, this permission, 
 Buvat took his time, feasted on the best cookery, imbibed 
 the most generous wines, sipped his coffee, played with 
 his glass of liqueur, and then — the last operation com- 
 pleted — declared in a resolute tone that he was ready to 
 appear before the substitute of the prime minister. 
 
 The sentinel had received orders to let him pass ; and 
 Buvat, conducted by Bourguignon, passed proudly by 
 him. For some time they followed a long corridor, 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 
 the ground- floor, in the presence of a man from forty to 
 
THE SAVIOR OF FRANCE. 463 
 
 forty-two years old, who was entirely unknown to him, 
 and who, in plain costume, was performing at a blazing 
 furnace some chemical experiment, to which he appeared 
 to attach great importance. This man, seeing Buvat, raised 
 his head, and having looked at him curiously, " Monsieur," 
 said he, "are you Jean Buvat V 1 
 
 " At your service, Monsieur," answered Buvat, bowing. 
 
 " The request which you have just sent to the abbe 13 
 your handwriting?" 
 
 "My own, Monsieur." 
 
 " You have a very elegant handwriting, Monsieur." 
 
 Buvat bowed with a proudly modest smile. 
 
 "The abbe," continued the unknown, "has informed 
 me, Monsieur, of the services which you have rendered us." 
 
 " Monseigneur is too good/' murmured Buvat ; " it was 
 not worth the trouble." 
 
 "What! not worth the trouble? Indeed, Monsieur 
 Buvat, it was, on the contrary, well worth the trouble ; 
 and to prove it, if you have any favor to ask from the 
 regent, I will charge myself with the message." 
 
 "Monsieur," said Buvat, "since you are so good as to 
 offer to interpret my 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 my 
 arrears." 
 
 " What ! your arrears, Monsieur Buvat 1 What do you 
 mean 1 " 
 
 " I mean, Monsieur, that I have the honor to be em- 
 ployed at the royal library, but that for six years they 
 have told us, at the end of every month, that there was 
 no money in the treasury." 
 
 " And what is the whole amount of your arrears 1 " 
 
 "Monsieur, I must have a pen and ink to calculate 
 exactly." 
 
464 LE CHEVALIER D'HARMENTAL. 
 
 " Oh, but something near the mark ; calculate from 
 memory." 
 
 " To five thousand three hundred and odd francs, besides 
 the fractions in sous and deniers." 
 
 " And you wish for payment, Monsieur Buvat 1 " 
 
 " I do not deny it, Monsieur ; it would give me great 
 pleasure." 
 
 " And is this all you ask % " . 
 
 "AIL" 
 
 " But do you not ask anything for the service which 
 you have just rendered France % " 
 
 " Indeed, Monsieur, I should like permission to inform 
 my ward Bathilde, who must be very anxious by reason 
 of my absence, that she may be easy on my account, and 
 that I am a prisoner at the Palais Royal. I w r ould also 
 ask — if it would not be imposing upon your kindness 
 too much — that she might be allowed to pay me a little 
 visit ; but if this second request is indiscreet, I will con- 
 fine myself to the first." 
 
 "We will do better than that, Monsieur Buvat. The 
 causes for which you were retained exist no more, and we 
 are going to set you at liberty ; so you can go yourself 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 of presenting you my respects." 
 
 " Pardon, Monsieur Buvat, one word more." 
 
 " Two, Monsieur." 
 
 " I repeat to you that France is under obligations to 
 you, which she will acquit. Write, then, to the regent ; 
 inform him of what is due to you ; show him your situa- 
 tion ; and if you have a particular desire for anything, 
 
THE SAVIOR OF FRANCE. 465 
 
 say so boldly. I guarantee that he will grant your 
 request." 
 
 " Monsieur, you are too good, and I shall not fail. I 
 hope, then, that out 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 for me, since I bring her such good 
 news. Au revoiv, Monsieur. Ah ! pardon ; would it be 
 an indiscretion to ask your name 1 " 
 
 " Monsieur Philippe ! " 
 
 " Au revoir, Monsieur Philippe ! " 
 
 "Adieu, Monsieur Buvat. One moment; I must give 
 orders that they are to allow 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 guards entered. 
 
 " Ravanne," said Monsieur Philippe, " conduct this 
 gentleman to the gate of the Palais Royal. 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 it was that was called " Monseigneur," 
 but Ravanne did not leave him time. 
 
 " Come, Monsieur," said he ; "I await you." 
 
 Buvat looked at Monsieur Philippe and the page with 
 a stupefied air ; but the latter, not understanding Buvat's 
 
 30 
 
4:66 LE CHEVALIER D'HARMENTAL. 
 
 hesitation, again urged him to start. Buvat obeyed, draw- 
 ing out his handkerchief, and wiping his forehead. 
 
 At the door the sentinel wished to stop Buvat. 
 
 " By the order of his royal Highness Monseigneur the 
 Regent, Monsieur is free," said Ravanne. 
 
 The soldier presented arms, and allowed him to pass. 
 
 Buvat thought he should faint ; he felt his legs fail him, 
 and leaned against a wall. 
 
 " What is the matter, Monsieur 1 " asked his guide. 
 
 " Pardon, Monsieur," murmured Buvat ; " but who is the 
 person to whom I have just had the honor of speaking % n 
 
 " 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 1 " 
 
 " I don't know what he promised you ; but I know that 
 the person who gave me the order to accompany you was 
 the regent." 
 
 " But he told me his name was Philippe." 
 
 "Well, it 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 are scoundrels who conspire against 
 him, — against a man who has promised to pay me my 
 arrears, — why, they deserve to be hanged, all of them ; 
 to be broken on the wheel, drawn and quartered, burned 
 alive. Don't you think so, Monsieur 1 ?" 
 
 " Monsieur," said Ravanne, laughing, "I have no opinion 
 on matters of such importance. We are at the gate ; I 
 should be happy to accompany you farther, but Mon- 
 seigneur leaves in half an hour for the Abbey of Chelles, 
 and as he has some orders to give me before his departure, 
 I am — to my great regret — obliged to leave you." 
 
THE SAVIOR OF FRANCE. 467 
 
 "All the regret is on my side, Monsieur," said Buvat, 
 graciously, and answering by a profound bow to the part- 
 ing nod of the young man, who, when Buvat raised his 
 head, had already disappeared. This departure left Buvat 
 entirely free in his movements ; and taking advantage of 
 that fact, he pursued his 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'Harmental 
 ran his sword through the body of Roquehnette. It was 
 at this moment that poor Bathilde — who was far from 
 suspecting what was taking place in her neighbor's room 
 — had seen her guardian, and had rushed to meet him on 
 the stairs, where Buvat and she had met on the third flight. 
 
 "Oh, little father, dear little father," cried Bathilde, 
 remounting the staircase with her hand on Buvat's arm, 
 and stopping to embrace him at every step, " where have 
 you been 1 What has happened to you 1 How is it that 
 we have not seen you since Monday 1 What uneasiness 
 you have caused us, mon Dieu/ But something extra- 
 ordinary must have occurred ! " 
 
 " Yes, most extraordinary," answered Buvat. 
 
 "Ah, mon Dieu! tell me about it, little father. In 
 the first place, where do you come from]" 
 
 " Prom the Palais Royal." 
 
 " What ! from the Palais Royal ! and whose guest were 
 you at the Palais Royal 1 " 
 
 " The regent's." 
 
 " You the regent's guest ! and what were you doing 
 there?" 
 
 " I was a prisoner." 
 
 " A prisoner ! you 1 " 
 
 " A State prisoner." 
 
 " And why were you a prisoner 1 " 
 
 " Because I have saved France." 
 
468 LE CHEVALIER D'HARMENTAL. 
 
 " Oh, mon Dieu ! mon Dieu ! Little father, have you 
 lost your wits 1 " cried Bathilde, terrified. 
 
 " No ; but there has been enough to make me crazy, if 
 I had not had a pretty strong head." 
 
 " But, I beg of you, explain yourself ! " 
 
 " You must know, then, that there was a conspiracy 
 against the regent." 
 
 "Oh, mon Dieu/ 1 ' 
 
 " And that I was in it." 
 
 " You 1 " 
 
 " Yes, I, — without being in it, that is to say. You 
 know that Prince de Listhnay?" 
 
 "Well?" 
 
 " A sham prince, my child, — a sham prince ! H 
 
 " But the copies which you made for him 1 " 
 
 " Manifestoes, proclamations, incendiary papers, a gen- 
 eral revolt, Brittany, Normandy, the States-General, King 
 of Spain ; and it is I who discovered all that." 
 
 " You 1 " cried Bathilde, horrified. 
 
 " Yes, I ; and the regent has called me the savior of 
 France, — me, — and is going to pay me my arrears." 
 
 " My father, my father, you talk of conspirators ; do 
 you remember the names of any of them?" 
 
 " First, Monsieur le Due du Maine ; fancy that miser- 
 able bastard conspiring against a man like Monseigneur 
 the Regent ! Then a Comte de Laval, a Marquis de Pom- 
 padour, a Baron de Yalef, the Prince de Cellamare, the 
 Abbe Brigaud, — that abominable Abbe Brigaud ! Think 
 of my having copied the list — " 
 
 " My father," said Bathilde, shuddering with fear, — " my 
 father, among all those names, did you not see the name — 
 the name — of the — Chevalier — Raoul d'Harmental 1 " 
 
 "That I did," cried Buvat; "the Chevalier Raoul 
 D'Harmental ? Why, he is the head of the conspiracy ! 
 
THE SAVIOR OF FRANCE. 469 
 
 But the regent knows them all ; this very evening they 
 will all be arrested, and to-morrow hung, drawn, quar- 
 tered, broken on the wheel." 
 
 " Oh, miserable, miserable that you are ! " cried Ba- 
 thilde, wringing her hands 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 the danger which threatened him, Ba- 
 thilde left Buvat confounded, darted to the door, flew 
 down the staircase, cleared the street at two bounds, 
 rushed up the stairs almost without touching the steps, 
 and breathless, terrified, dying, hurled herself against the 
 door of D'Harmental's room, which, badly closed by 
 the chevalier, yielded before her, exposing to her view 
 the body of the captain stretched on the floor, and 
 swimming in a sea of blood. 
 
 At this sight, so widely different from what she expected, 
 Bathilde, not thinking that she might perhaps be com- 
 promising her lover, sprang toward the door, calling for 
 help; but on reaching the threshold, either because her 
 strength failed her or because her foot slipped in the 
 blood, she fell backward with a terrible cry. 
 
 On hearing that cry, the neighbors hastened thither, 
 and found that Bathilde had fainted ; her head had 
 struck against the edge of the door, and she was badly 
 wounded. They carried her to Madame Denis's room, 
 and the good woman hastened to offer her hospitality. 
 
 As to Captain Roquefinette, as he had torn off, to light 
 his pipe, the address of the letter which he had in his 
 pocket, and as there was no other paper on his person 
 indicating his name or residence, they carried his body to 
 the Morgue, where, three days afterward, it was recognized 
 by La Normande. 
 
470 LE CHEVALIER D'HARMENTAL. 
 
 CHAPTER XLI. 
 
 GOD DISPOSES. 
 
 D'Harmental, as we have seen, had set off at a gallop, 
 feeling that he had not an instant to lose in bringing 
 about the changes which the death of Captain Roque- 
 finette rendered necessary in his hazardous enterprise. 
 In the hope of recognizing by some sign the individuals 
 who were designed to play the part of assistants in this 
 great drama, he followed the boulevards as far as the 
 Porte St. Martin, and having arrived there, turned to 
 the left, and was in the midst of the horse-market. It 
 was there, it will be remembered, that the twelve or fifteen 
 sham peasants enlisted by Roquefinette waited the orders 
 of their chief. 
 
 But as the unfortunate captain had said, there was no 
 special token which could designate to the eye of a 
 stranger those mysterious men, dressed as they were like 
 all the rest, and scarcely known even to one another. 
 D'Harmental therefore sought vainly; all the faces were 
 unknown to him ; buyers and sellers appeared equally in- 
 different to everything except the bargains which they 
 were concluding. Twice or thrice, having approached 
 persons whom he fancied he recognized as pretended bar- 
 gainers, he went away without even speaking to them, so 
 great was the probability that among the five or six hun- 
 dred individuals who were on the ground, he would make 
 some mistake which might be not only useless, but even 
 dangerous. 
 
GOD DISPOSES. 47 J 
 
 The situation was pitiable. D'Harmental unquestion- 
 ably had there, ready to his hand, all the means necessary 
 to the successful accomplishment of his purpose ; but in 
 killing the captain, he had broken with hisV»wn hand the 
 thread which should have served him as a c»ew to them, 
 and the connecting link broken, the whole\ chain had 
 become useless. 
 
 D'Harmental bit his lips till the blood came, and wan- 
 dered to and fro from end to end of the market, still 
 hoping that some unforeseen event would get hinr* out of 
 his difficulty. But time went on ; the market presented 
 the same aspect ; no one spoke to him ; and two peasants, 
 to whom in his despair he had addressed a few ambiguous 
 words, had opened their eyes and mouths in such pro- 
 found-astonishment that he had instantly broken off the 
 conversation, convinced that he was mistaken. 
 
 Five o'clock struck. At eight or nine the regent would 
 return from Chelles. There was therefore no time to be 
 lost, particularly as this ambuscade was the last resource 
 for the conspirators, who might be arrested at any moment, 
 and who staked their remaining hopes on this last throw. 
 D'Harmental did not conceal from himself the difficulties 
 of the situation. He had claimed for himself the honor 
 of the enterprise ; on him therefore rested all the respon- 
 sibility, and that responsibility was terrible. On the 
 other hand, he found himself in one of those situations 
 where courage is useless, where human will shatters itself 
 against an impossibility, and where the last chance is to 
 confess one's weakness, and ask aid from those who expect 
 it of us. But D'Harmental was a man of determination ; 
 his resolution was soon formed. He took a last turn 
 round the market to see if some conspirator would not 
 betray himself by his impatience ; but seeing that all 
 faces retained their expression of unconcern, he put his 
 
472 LE CHEVALIER D'HARMENTAL. 
 
 horse to a gallop, rode down the boulevards, gained the 
 Faubourg St. Antoine, dismounted at No. 15, went up 
 the' staircase, opened the door of a little room, and found 
 himself in the presence of Madame du Maine, Laval, Valef, 
 Pompadour, Halezieux, and Brigaud. They all uttered 
 cries of astonishment on seeing him. 
 
 D'Harmeutal related everything, — the demands of 
 Roquefinet'je, the discussion which had followed, the duel 
 which had terminated that discussion. He opened his 
 cloak and showed his shirt saturated with blood ; then he 
 passed to the hopes which he had entertained of recog- 
 nizing the sham peasants, and putting himself at their 
 head in place of the captain. He described the failure of 
 his hopes and his futile investigations in the horse-market, 
 and wound up by an appeal to Laval, Pompadour, and 
 Yalef, who answered that they were ready to follow the 
 chevalier to the end of the earth, and to obey his orders. 
 
 Nothing was lost, then. Four resolute men, acting on 
 their own account, were well worth twelve or fifteen hired 
 vagabonds, who were not influenced by any motive be- 
 yond that of gaining each some hundred louis. The horses 
 were ready in the stable ; every one had come armed. 
 D'Avranches had not yet gone, so that the little troop was 
 re-enforced by another devoted man. They sent for masks 
 of black velvet, so as to hide from the regent as long as 
 possible the faces of his abductors, left with Madame du 
 Maine Malezieux and Brigaud, who were naturally ex- 
 cluded from such an expedition, — the former by his 
 advanced age, and the latter by his profession, — ap- 
 pointed a rendezvous at St. Mande, and went away, each 
 one separately, so as not to arouse suspicions. An hour 
 afterward the five friends were reunited, and ambushed on 
 the road to Chelles, between Vincennes and Nogent-sur' 
 M'arne. 
 
GOD DISPOSES. 473 
 
 Half-past six struck on the chateau clock. 
 
 D'Avranches had been in search of information. The 
 regent had passed at about half-past three. He had neither 
 guards nor suite ; he was in a carriage with four horses, 
 managed by two jockeys, and was preceded by a single 
 outrider. There was therefore no resistance to be feared. 
 On arresting the prince, they would turn his course toward 
 Charenton, where the post-master was, as we have said, 
 devoted to the interest of Madame du Maine ; they would 
 take him into the courtyard, whose door would close 
 upon him, and would force him to enter a travelling- 
 carriage, which would be waiting with the postilion in 
 his saddle. D'Harmental and Yalef would seat them- 
 selves by him ; they would start off at a rapid pace ; they 
 would cross the Marne at Alfort, the Seine at Villeneuve- 
 St.-Georges, reach Grand-Vaux, then Monthery, and find 
 themselves on the road to Spain. If at any of the stations 
 where they changed horses the regent endeavored to call 
 out, D'Harmental and Valef would threaten him ; and if 
 he called out in spite of the menaces, they had that famous 
 passport to prove that he who claimed assistance was not 
 the prince, but only a madman who thought himself the 
 regent, and whom they were conducting to his family, 
 who lived at Saragossa. All this was a little dangerous, it 
 is true ; but as is well known, these are the very enter- 
 prises which succeed, the more easily because those against 
 whom they are directed are not on guard against them. 
 
 Seven o'clock, eight o'clock, struck successively. D'Har- 
 mental and his companions saw with pleasure the night 
 approaching, and the darkness falling more and more dense 
 and black around them ; two or three passing carriages, 
 either of the post or of private owners, had already roused 
 their expectations, and had put them on the alert in readi- 
 ness for the real attack. At half-past eight the night was 
 
474 LE CHEVALIER D'HARMENTAL. 
 
 pitch-dark, and a sort of natural fear, which the conspira- 
 tors had felt at first, began to change into impatience. 
 
 At nine o'clock they thought they could distinguish 
 sounds. D'Avranches lay down, with his ear to the 
 ground, and distinctly heard the rolling of a carriage. 
 At that instant they saw, at a distance of about a thou- 
 sand paces, near a turn in the road, a point of light like a 
 star. The conspirators trembled with excitement ; it was 
 evidently the outrider with his torch. There was soon 
 no doubt ; they saw the carriage with its two lanterns. 
 D'Harmental, Pompadour, Valef, and Laval grasped one 
 another's hands, put on their masks, and each one took 
 the place assigned to him. 
 
 The carriage advanced rapidly ; it was really that of the 
 duke. By the light of the torch which he carried, they 
 could distinguish the red dress of the outrider, some five 
 and twenty paces before the horses. The road was silent 
 and deserted; everything seemed to favor the conspira- 
 tors. D'Harmental threw a last glance on his companions. 
 D'Avranches was in the middle of the road, pretending to 
 be drunk ; Laval and Pompadour were at the sides of the 
 path ; and opposite him was Valef, who was cocking his 
 pistols. As to the outrider, the two jockeys, and the 
 prince, it was evident that they were all in a state of per- 
 fect security, and would fall quietly into the trap. 
 
 The carriage drew near ; already the outrider had passed 
 D'Harmental and Valef. Suddenly he struck against 
 D'Avranches, who sprang up, seized the bridle, snatched 
 the torch from his hand, and extinguished it. At this 
 sight the jockeys tried to turn the carriage, but it was too 
 late. Pompadour and Laval sprang upon them, pistol in 
 hand, while D'Harmental and Valef presented themselves 
 at the two doors, extinguished the lanterns, and intimated 
 to the prince that if he did not make any resistance, his 
 
GOD DISPOSES. 475 
 
 life would be spared, but that if, on the contrary, he de- 
 fended himself or cried out, they were determined to 
 proceed to extremities. 
 
 Contrary to the expectation of D'Harmental and Valef, 
 who knew the courage of the regent, the prince said only, 
 " Well, gentlemen, do not harm me. I will go wherever 
 you wish." 
 
 D'Harmental and Valef threw a glance along the road , 
 they saw Pompadour and D'Avranches leading into the 
 depth of the wood the outrider, the two jockeys, the out- 
 rider's horse, and two of the carriage horses, which they 
 had unharnessed. The chevalier sprang from his horse 
 and mounted that of the first postilion ; Laval and Valef 
 placed themselves at the doors; the carriage set off at a 
 gallop, and taking the first turn to the left, began to roll, 
 without noise and without light, in the direction of Cha- 
 renton. All the arrangements had been so well made 
 that the seizure had not occupied more than five minutes ; 
 no resistance had been made, and not a cry had been 
 uttered. Most assuredly, this time fortune was on the 
 side of the conspirators. 
 
 But having arrived at the end of the cross-road, D'Har- 
 mental encountered a first obstacle : the barrier, either by 
 accident or design, was closed, and they were obliged to 
 retrace their steps and take another road. The chevalier 
 turned his horses, took a lateral alley, and the journey, in- 
 terrupted for an instant, was resumed at an increased speed. 
 
 The new route which the chevalier had taken led him 
 to a place where several roads met in an open square. 
 One of the roads led straight to Charenton. There was 
 no time to lose, and in any event he must cross this 
 square. For an instant he thought he distinguished men 
 in the darkness before him ; but this vision disappeared 
 like a mist, and the carriage continued its progress with- 
 
476 LE CHEVALIER D'HARMENTAL. 
 
 out interruption. On approaching the square, D'Harmen- 
 tal fancied he heard the neighing of a horse, and a sort of 
 ringing of iron, as when sabres are drawn from their 
 sheaths ; but taking it either for the wind among the 
 leaves or for some other noise for which he need not 
 stop, he continued with the same swiftness, the same 
 silence, and in the midst of the same darkness. 
 
 But on arriving at the square made by the junction of 
 the several roads, D'Harmental saw something strange, — 
 a sort of wall closing all the roads that centred there ; 
 it was evident that something unexpected was taking 
 place. D'Harmental stopped the carriage, and wished, to 
 go back on the road by which he had come ; but a similar 
 wall had closed behind him. At that instant he heard the 
 voices of Laval and Valef crying, " We are surrounded ! 
 Save yourself!" And both left the doors, leaped their 
 horses over the ditch, darted into the forest, and disap- 
 peared among the trees. 
 
 But it was impossible for D'Harmental, who was 
 mounted on the postilion's horse, to follow his com- 
 panions. Unable to escape the living wall which he re- 
 cognized as formed by a body of musketeers, he tried to 
 break through it, and with his head lowered, and a pistol 
 in each hand, spurred his horse up the nearest road, with- 
 out considering whether it was the right one. He had 
 scarcely gone ten steps, however, when a musket-ball en- 
 tered the head of his horse, which fell, entangling D'Har- 
 mental's leg. Instantly eight or ten cavaliers leaped from 
 their horses and sprang upon him. He fired one pistol at 
 random, and put the other to his head, to blow out his 
 brains ; but he had not time, for two musketeers seized 
 him by the arms, and four others dragged him from 
 beneath the horse. The pretended prince descended from 
 the carriage, and turned out to be a valet in disguise; 
 
GOD DISPOSES. 477 
 
 they placed D'Harmental with two officers inside the 
 carriage, and harnessed another horse in the place of the 
 one which had been shot. The carriage once more moved 
 forward, taking a new direction, and escorted by a 
 squadron of musketeers. A quarter of an hour afterward 
 it rolled over a drawbridge ; a heavy door grated upon its 
 hinges ; and D'Harmental passed under a sombre and 
 vaulted gateway, on the inner side of which an officer in 
 the uniform of a colonel was waiting for him. It was 
 Monsieur de Launay, the governor of the Bastille. 
 
 If our readers desire to know how the plot had been 
 discovered, they must recall the conversation between 
 Dubois and La Fillon. That companion of the prime 
 minister, it will be remembered, suspected Eoquefinette 
 of being concerned in some unlawful enterprise, and had 
 denounced him on condition of his life being spared. A 
 few days afterward D'Harmental had- come to her house, 
 and she had recognized him as the young nobleman who 
 had held the former conference with Roquefinette. She 
 had consequently mounted the stairs behind him, and 
 going into the next room, had heard everything through a 
 hole bored in the partition. 
 
 What she had heard was the project for carrying off the 
 regent on his return from Chelles. Dubois had been in- 
 formed the same evening, and in order to take the c 
 spirators in the act, had put a suit of the regent's clothes 
 on Monsieur Bourguignon, and having surrounded the 
 Bois de Yincennes with a regiment of Gray Musketeers, 
 besides light-horse and dragoons, had produced the result 
 we have just related. The head of the plot had been 
 taken in the act ; and as the prime minister knew the 
 names of all the other conspirators, there was little chance 
 remaining for them of escape from the meshes of the vast 
 net which was hourly closing around them. 
 
478 LE CHEVALIER D'HARMENTAL. 
 
 CHAPTER XLII. 
 
 A PRIME MINISTER'S MEMORY. 
 
 When Bathilde reopened her eyes, she found herself in 
 Mademoiselle Emilie's room. Mirza was lying on the end 
 of the bed ; the two sisters were near her ; and Buvat, 
 overcome by grief, was sitting in a corner, his head bowed, 
 and his hands resting on his knees. 
 
 At first all her thoughts were confused, and her sensa- 
 tion was one of bodily pain. She raised her hand to her 
 head ; the wound was behind the temple. A doctor, who 
 had been called in, had arranged the first dressing, and 
 left orders that he was to be sent for if fever declared 
 itself. 
 
 Astonished to find herself, on waking from a sleep 
 which had appeared to her heavy and painful, in bed in 
 a strange room, the young girl turned an inquiring glance 
 on each person present ; but iEmilie and Athenais shunned 
 her eyes, and Buvat heaved a mournful sigh. Mirza alone 
 stretched out her little head for a caress. Unluckily for 
 the coaxing little creature, Bathilde began to recover her 
 memory ; the veil which was drawn before the late events 
 rose little by little, and soon she began to connect the 
 broken threads which would aid her to trace anew the 
 course of past occurrences. She recalled the return of 
 Buvat ; what he had told her of the conspiracy ; and the 
 danger to which D'Harmental was exposed in consequence 
 of the revelation which Buvat had made. Then she 
 remembered her hope of being in time to save him, and 
 
A PRIME MINISTER'S MEMORY. 479 
 
 with what speed she had crossed the street and mounted 
 the staircase ; lastly, her entry into Kaoul's room returned 
 to her memory, and uttering a new cry of terror, as if she 
 found herself again before the corpse of Eoquefinette, 
 "And he," she cried, "what has become of him'?" 
 
 No one answered, for neither of the three persons who 
 were in the room knew what reply to give ; but Buvat^ 
 choking with tears, rose and went toward the door. Ba- 
 thilde understood the grief and remorse expressed in that 
 silent withdrawal; she stopped Buvat by a look, and 
 extending her arms toward him, " Little father," said she, 
 " do you no longer love your poor Bathilde ? " 
 
 " I no longer love you, my darling child ! " cried Buvat, 
 falling on his knees, and kissing her hand, " I love you no 
 longer ! My God ! it will be you who will not love me 
 now ; and you will be right, for I am a curse to you. I 
 ought to have known that that young man loved you, and 
 ought to have risked all, suffered all, rather than — But 
 you told me nothing, you had no confidence in me, and 
 I, with the best intentions in the world, only made blun- 
 ders. Oh, wretch that I am ! how can you ever forgive 
 me ] And if you do not forgive me, how shall I live 1 " 
 
 " Little father," cried Bathilde, " little father, try at 
 least to find out what has become of him, I implore 
 
 you." 
 
 " Well, my child, well ; I will inquire. Will not you 
 forgive me if I bring you good news 1 If the news is 
 bad you will hate me even more, — that will be but just ; 
 but you will not die, Bathilde ? " 
 
 " Go, go ! " said Bathilde, throwing her arms round his 
 neck, and giving him a kiss in which fifteen years of 
 gratitude struggled with one day of pain. " Go ; my life 
 is in the hands of God. He only can decide whether I 
 shall live or die." 
 
480 LE CHEVALIER D'HARMENTAL. 
 
 Buvat understood nothing of all this hut the kiss which 
 he had received. It seemed to him that if Bathilde was 
 very much offended with him she would not have kissed 
 him ; and half consoled, he took his hat and cane, and 
 having inquired of Madame Denis how the chevalier had 
 been dressed, he set out on his search in the direction 
 which D'Harmental had taken. 
 
 It was no easy matter for a detective so simple as Buvat 
 to trace Raoul's progress ; he learned from a neighbor that 
 he had been seen to spring upon a gray horse which had 
 remained some half-hour fastened to the shutter, and that 
 he had turned the corner of the Rue Gros-Chenet. A 
 grocer, who lived at the corner of the Rue des Jeuneurs, 
 remembered having seen a cavalier whose person and horse 
 agreed perfectly with the description given by Buvat pass 
 by at full gallop ; and, lastly, a fruit-woman, who kept a 
 little shop at the corner of the boulevards, swore posi- 
 tively that she had seen the man, and that he had dis- 
 appeared by the Porte St. Denis. But from this point all 
 the information was vague, unsatisfactory, and uncertain ; 
 so that after two hours of useless inquiry Buvat returned 
 to Madame Denis's house without any more definite 
 information to give Bathilde than that, wherever D'Har- 
 mental might have gone, he had passed along the Boule- 
 vard Bonne-Nouvelle. 
 
 Buvat found his ward much agitated. During his 
 absence she had grown rapidly worse, and the crisis fore- 
 seen by the doctor was fast approaching. Bathilde's eyes 
 were burning ; her skin seemed to glow ; her utterances 
 were nervously brief. Madame Denis had just sent for 
 the doctor. 
 
 The poor woman was not without her own anxieties ; 
 for some time she had suspected that the Abbe Brigaud 
 was involved in some plot, and what she had just learned — 
 
A PRIME MINISTER'S MEMORY. 481 
 
 that D'Harmental was not a poor student, but a handsome 
 colonel — confirmed her conjectures, since it was Brigaud 
 who had introduced him to her. This similarity between 
 her own situation and that of the patient had not a little 
 contributed to soften her heart, always kind, toward 
 Bathilde. She listened, then, with eagerness to the little 
 information which Buvat had been able to collect for the 
 sufferer, and as it was far from being sufficiently positive 
 to calm the patient, she promised, if she heard anything 
 herself, to report it at once. 
 
 In the mean time the doctor arrived. Great as was his 
 command over himself, it was easy to see that he thought 
 Bathilde's condition serious. He bled her abundantly, 
 ordered refreshing drinks, and advised that some one 
 should watch at the bedside. Emilie and Athenais, who, 
 aside from their little absurdities, were at heart excellent 
 girls, declared directly that that was their business, and 
 that they would pass the night with Bathilde alternately. 
 Emilie, as the elder, claimed the first watch, which was 
 accorded to her without contest. As to Buvat, since he 
 could not remain in the chamber, and besides, his stifled 
 sighs and heavy groans could only disturb the patient, 
 they begged him to return home, which he consented 
 to do only when Bathilde herself had entreated him. 
 
 The bleeding had somewhat calmed Bathilde, and she 
 seemed to feel better. Madame Denis had left the room ; 
 Mademoiselle Athenais also had retired ; Monsieur Boni- 
 face, after returning from the Morgue, where he had been 
 to pay a visit to the body of Roquefinette, had gone up to 
 his own room ; and Emilie watched by the fireplace, and 
 read a little book which she took from her pocket. Some 
 one knocked on the street-door twice, in a manner which 
 indicated a degree of agitation on the part of him who 
 sought admission. Bathilde started, and raised herself on 
 
 31 
 
482 LE CHEVALIER D'HARMENTAL. 
 
 her elbow. Emilie hurried her book into her pocket, and 
 having heard Bathilde's movement, hastened to the bed. 
 Then could be heard the opening and shutting of two or 
 three doors ; and before Emilie had time to say, " That 
 is not the voice of Monsieur Raoul, it is the Abbe Bri- 
 gaud," Bathilde had fallen back on her pillow. 
 
 An instant afterward Madame Denis half opened the 
 door, and in a trembling voice called Emilie, who went 
 out, leaving Bathilde alone. 
 
 Suddenly Bathilde was startled ; the abbe was in the 
 room next to hers, and she thought that she heard him pro- 
 nounce Raoul's name. She now remembered having sev- 
 eral times seen the abbe at D'Harniental's rooms ; she knew 
 that he was one of the most intimate friends of Madame 
 du Maine. She thought, then, that the abbe must bring 
 news of him. Her first idea was to slip from the bed, 
 put on a dressing-gown, and go and ask what had hap- 
 pened ; but she considered that if the news was bad, 
 they would not tell it, and that it would be better to 
 overhear the conversation, which seemed to be animated. 
 Consequently she pressed her ear to the panel, and listened 
 as if all her life were concentrated in the one sense of 
 hearing. 
 
 Brigaud was relating to Madame Denis what had hap- 
 pened. Valef had made his way to the Faubourg St. 
 Antoine, and given warning to Madame du Maine of the 
 failure of the expedition. Madame du Maine had imme- 
 diately freed the conspirators from their oaths, advised 
 Malezieux and Brigaud to save themselves, and retired 
 to the Arsenal. Brigaud came therefore to bid adieu to 
 Madame Denis ; he was going to attempt to reach Spain 
 in the disguise of a pedler. In the midst of his recital, in- 
 terrupted by the exclamations of poor Madame Denis and 
 of Mademoiselle Athenais and Emilie, the abbe thought 
 
A PRIME MINISTER'S MEMORY. 483 
 
 that he heard a cry in the next room, just at the time 
 when he was relating D'Harmental's catastrophe ; but as 
 no one had paid any attention to the cry, and as he was 
 not aware that Bathilde was in that room, he had attached 
 no importance to this noise, regarding the nature of which 
 he might easily have been mistaken. Moreover, Boniface, 
 summoned in his turn, had entered at the moment, and 
 as the abbe had a particular fancy for Boniface, his 
 entrance had naturally turned Brigaud's thoughts into 
 a different channel. 
 
 Still, this was not the time for long leave-takings ; 
 Brigaud desired that daylight should find him as far as 
 possible from Paris. He therefore took leave of the Denis 
 family, and set out with Boniface, who declared that he 
 would accompany his friend Brigaud as far as the barrier. 
 
 As they opened the staircase-door they heard the voice 
 of the portress, who appeared to be opposing the passage of 
 some one; they descended to discover the cause of the 
 discussion, and found Bathilde, with streaming hair, naked 
 feet, and wrapped in a long white robe, standing on the 
 staircase, and endeavoring to go out in spite of the efforts 
 of the portress. The poor girl had heard everything ; her 
 fever had changed into delirium. She would join Raoul ; 
 she would see him again; she would die with him. 
 
 The three women took her in their arms. For a min- 
 ute she struggled against them, murmuring incoherent 
 words; her cheeks were flushed with fever, while her 
 limbs trembled, and her teeth chattered. But soon her 
 strength failed her; her head sank back; and calling on 
 the name of Raoul, she fainted a second time. 
 
 They sent once more for the doctor. What he had 
 feared was now no longer doubtful, — brain fever had 
 declared itself. At this moment some one knocked ; it 
 was Buvat, whom Brigaud and Boniface had found wan- 
 
484 LE CHEVALIER D'HARMENTAL. 
 
 dering to and fro before the house like a ghost, and who, 
 not able to contend any longer with his anxiety, had come 
 to beg for a seat in some corner, he did not care where, 
 so long as from time to time he had news of Bathilde. 
 The poor family were too sad themselves not to feel for 
 the grief of others. Madame signed to Buvat to seat 
 himself in a corner, and retired into her own room with 
 Athena'is, leaving Emilie once more with the sufferer. 
 
 About daybreak Boniface returned. He had gone with 
 Brigaud as far as the Barriere d'Enfer, where the abbe 
 had left him, hoping — thanks to his good steed, and to 
 his disguise — to -reach the Spanish frontier. 
 
 Bathilde's delirium continued. All night she talked 
 of Raoul ; she often mentioned Buvat's name, and always 
 accused him of having killed her lover. Buvat heard it, 
 and without daring to defend himself, to reply, or even 
 to groan, had silently burst into tears, seeking in his mind 
 how to repair the evil he had wrought. At last, as day 
 was breaking he seemed to have formed a decided resolu- 
 tion. He approached the bed, kissed the feverish hand 
 of Bathilde, who looked at him without recognizing him, 
 and went out. 
 
 Buvat had, in fact, determined on a bold course. It 
 was to go himself to Dubois, tell him everything, and ask 
 as his recompense, not the payment of his arrears, not 
 advancement at the library, but pardon for D'Harmental. 
 It was the least that could be accorded to the man whom 
 the regent himself had called the savior of France. Buvat 
 did not doubt that he should soon return bearing good 
 news, and that the good news would restore Bathilde to 
 health. 
 
 Consequently Buvat went home to repair the disorder 
 of his dress, which had been disarranged by the events of 
 the day and the emotions of the night ; and, moreover, he 
 
A PRIME MINISTER'S MEMORY. 485 
 
 did not dare to present himself at the ministers house 
 so early, for fear of disturbing him. His toilet finished, as 
 it was still only nine o'clock, he visited for a few minutes 
 Bathilde's room ; it was that which the young girl had 
 left the day before. Buvat sat down in the chair which 
 she had occupied, touched the articles which she liked to 
 touch, and kissed the feet of the crucifix which she kissed 
 each night ; one would have thought him a lover following 
 the steps of his mistress. 
 
 Ten o'clock struck ; it was the hour at which Buvat 
 had often before repaired to the Palais Royal. The fear 
 of being importunate gave place to the hope of being 
 received as he had always been. He took his hat and 
 cane, and called at Madame Denis's to ask how Bathilde 
 had been during his absence ; he found that she had never 
 ceased to call for Raoul. The doctor had bled her for the 
 third time. Buvat raised his eyes as if to call Heaven to 
 witness that he was about to do all that he possibly could 
 do to bring prompt relief to the sorrows of his ward, 
 heaved a profound sigh, and set out for the Palais 
 Royal. 
 
 The moment was badly chosen. Dubois, who had been 
 constantly on his feet for four or five days, suffered hor- 
 ribly from the malady which was to cause his death in 
 V a few months ; moreover, he was beyond measure annoyed 
 that only D'Harmental had been taken, and had just given 
 orders to Leblanc and D'Argenson to press on the trial 
 with all possible speed, when his valet-de-chambre, who 
 was accustomed to see the worthy writer arrive every 
 morning, announced Monsieur Buvat. 
 
 " And who the devil is Monsieur Buvat ? " 
 
 " It is T, Monseigneur," said the poor fellow, venturing 
 to slip between the valet and the door, and bowing his 
 honest head before the prime minister. 
 
486 LE CHEVALIER D'HARMENTAL. 
 
 " Well, who are you ? " asked Dubois, as if he had never 
 seen him before. 
 
 " What, Monseigneur ! " exclaimed the astonished 
 Buvat ; " do you not recognize me 1 I come to con- 
 gratulate you on the discovery of the conspiracy." 
 
 " I get congratulations enough of that kind ; thanks 
 for yours, Monsieur Buvat," said Dubois, in a dry tone. 
 
 " But, Monseigneur, I come also to ask a favor." 
 
 "A favor! and on what grounds'?" 
 
 " Why," said Buvat, stammering, — " why, Monseigneur, 
 do you not remember that you promised me a — a 
 recompense." 
 
 " A recompense ! to you, you double idiot ? " 
 
 " What, Monseigneur ! " continued poor Buvat, getting 
 more and more frightened, " do you not recollect that you 
 told me here, in this very room, that I had my fortune at 
 my fingers' ends 1 " 
 
 " And now," said Dubois, " I tell you that you have 
 your life in your legs; for unless you decamp pretty 
 quick — " 
 
 " But, Monseigneur — " 
 
 " Ah ! you reason with me, scoundrel ! " shouted Dubois, 
 raising himself with one hand on the arm of his chair, and 
 the other on his archbishop's crook. " Wait, then ; you 
 shall see — " 
 
 Buvat had seen quite enough. At the threatening gesture 
 of the premier he understood what was to follow, and turn- 
 ing round, fled at full speed; but quick as he was, he 
 had still time to hear Dubois, with the most horrible oaths 
 and curses, order his valet to beat him to death if ever 
 again he put his foot inside the door of the Palais Royal. 
 
 Buvat understood that there was no more hope in that 
 direction, and that he must renounce not only the idea of 
 being of service to D'Harmental, but also all hope of the 
 
A PRIME MINISTER'S MEMORY. 487 
 
 payment of his arrears, — a hope to which he had fondly 
 clung. This chain of thought naturally reminded him 
 that for eight days he had not been to the library. He 
 was near there. He resolved to go to his office, if it was 
 only to excuse himself to his superior, and relate to him 
 the causes of his absence. But here a grief not less ter- 
 rible than the rest was in store for Buvat : on opening the 
 door of his office he saw his seat occupied j a stranger had 
 been appointed to his place ! 
 
 As he had never before — during the whole fifteen j^ears 
 — been an hour late, the curator had concluded he was 
 dead, and had replaced him. Buvat had lost his situation 
 for having saved France ! This last stroke was more than 
 he could bear, and he returned home almost as ill as 
 Bathilde. 
 
488 LE CHEVALIER D'HARMENTAL. 
 
 CHAPTER XLIII. 
 
 BONIFACE. 
 
 As we have seen, Dubois urged on the trial of D'Harmen- 
 tal, hoping that his revelations would furnish him with 
 weapons against those whom he wished to attack ; but 
 D'Harmental persisted in a total denial with respect to 
 others. As to what concerned himself personally, he con- 
 fessed everything, saying that his attempt on the regent 
 was an act of private revenge for the injustice which had 
 been done him in depriving him of his regiment. As to 
 the men who had accompanied him, and who had lent 
 him their aid in the execution of his plans, he declared 
 that they were two poor devils of peasants, who did not 
 even know whom they were escorting. All this was not 
 highly probable ; but there was no way of eliciting from 
 the examinations anything beyond the answers of the 
 accused. The consequence was that to Dubois's great 
 disappointment the real criminals escaped his vengeance, 
 under cover of the persistent denials of the chevalier, who 
 declared that he had seen Monsieur or Madame du Maine 
 only once or twice in his life, and that he had never been 
 trusted with any political mission by either of them. 
 
 Laval, Pompadour, and Valef had been arrested and 
 taken to the Bastille, but they knew that they might rely 
 upon the chevalier; and as the situation in which they 
 found themselves had been foreseen, and it had been 
 agreed what each should say, they all entirely denied any 
 knowledge of the affair, — confessing associations with 
 
BONIFACE. 489 
 
 Monsieur and Madame du Maine, but saying that those 
 associations were confined to a respectful friendship. As 
 to D'Harmental, they knew him, they said, for a man of 
 honor, who complained of a great injustice which had 
 been done to him. They were confronted, one after 
 the other, with the chevalier; but these interviews had 
 no other result than that of confirming each in his system 
 of defence, and showing each that the system was reli- 
 giously adhered to by his companions. 
 
 Dubois was furious. He reopened the proofs for the 
 affair of the States-General ; but that had been settled by 
 the bed of justice, which had condemned the King of 
 Spain's letters, and degraded the legitimated princes from 
 their rank. Every one regarded them as sufficiently pun- 
 ished by this judgment, without being subjected to a second 
 prosecution on the same grounds. Dubois had hoped, by 
 the revelations of D'Harmental, to expose Monsieur and 
 Madame du Maine to new charges more serious than the 
 first ; for this time it was a question of a direct attempt, 
 if not on the life, at least on the liberty of the regent ; 
 but the obstinacy of the chevalier destroyed all his hopes. 
 His anger had therefore turned solely on D'Harmental; 
 and as we have said, he had ordered Leblanc and D'Argen- 
 son to expedite the prosecution, — an order which those 
 two magistrates obeyed with their usual promptness. 
 
 During this time Bathilde's illness had progressed in 
 such a manner that it had brought the poor girl to death's 
 door; but at last youth and vigor had triumphed. To the 
 excitement of delirium had succeeded a complete and 
 utter prostration ; one would have said that the fever 
 alone had sustained her, and that in departing it had 
 taken life along with it. 
 
 Still every day brought improvement, — slight, it is 
 true, but quite apparent to the eyes of the good people 
 
490 LE CHEVALIER D'HARMENTAL. 
 
 who surrounded the bed of sickness. Little by little 
 Bathilde had recognized those who were about her ; then 
 she had stretched out her hand to them, and then spoken 
 to them. As yet, to the astonishment of every one, 
 Bathilde had not mentioned the name of D'Harmental ; 
 this was a great relief to those who watched her, for as 
 they had none but sad news to give her about him, they 
 preferred, as will easily be understood, that she should 
 remain silent on the subject. Every one believed, and 
 the doctor most of all, that the young girl had completely 
 forgotten the past, or if she remembered it, that she con- 
 founded the reality with the dreams of her delirium. 
 They were all wrong, even the doctor; this is what had 
 occurred : — 
 
 One morning when they had thought Bathilde sleeping, 
 and had left her alone for a minute, Boniface, who, in 
 spite of Bathilde's severity, still preserved a great fund of 
 tenderness toward her, half opened the door, as was his 
 custom every morning since she had been ill, to ask news 
 of her. The growling of Mirza aroused Bathilde, who 
 turned round and saw Boniface. She immediately con- 
 ceived the idea that she might learn from him that which 
 she would ask in vain from the others, — namely, what had 
 become of D'Harmental, — and therefore, while quieting 
 Mirza, she extended her pale and emaciated hand to Boni- 
 face. Boniface took it between his own two great red 
 hands ; then, looking at the young girl, and shaking his 
 head, — 
 
 " Yes, Mademoiselle Bathilde, yes," said he, " you were 
 right ; you are a lady, and I am only a coarse peasant. 
 You deserved a nobleman, and it was impossible that 
 you should love me." 
 
 " Not as you wished, it is true, Boniface," said Ba- 
 thilde ; " but I can love you in another manner." 
 
BONIFACE. 491 
 
 "True, Mademoiselle Bathilde, very true. Well, love 
 me as you will, so that you love me a little." 
 
 "I can love you as a brother." 
 
 "As a brother ! You could love poor Boniface as a 
 brother, and he might love you as a sister ! He might 
 sometimes hold your hand as he holds it now, and em- 
 brace you as he sometimes embraces Melie and Nais? 
 Oh, speak, Mademoiselle Bathilde ! What must I do for 
 that 1 " 
 
 " My friend — " said Bathilde. 
 
 " She has called me her friend ! " said Boniface ; " she 
 has called me her friend ! — me, who have said such things 
 about her. Listen, Mademoiselle Bathilde. Do not call 
 me your friend ; I am not worthy of the name. You do 
 not know what I have said. I have said that you lived 
 with an old man ; but I did not believe it, Mademoiselle 
 Bathilde, on my honor, I did not, — it was anger ; it was 
 rage. Mademoiselle Bathilde, call me beggar, rascal ; it 
 will give me less pain than to hear you term me your 
 friend. Ah, you scoundrel Boniface ! " 
 
 " My friend," continued Bathilde, " if you have said all 
 that, I pardon you, for now you can not only repair that 
 wrong, but also acquire lasting claims upon my gratitude." 
 
 "And what shall I do? Speak! Let me see! Must 
 I go through the fire % Shall I jump out of the second- 
 story window ? Shall I — What shall I do 1 Tell me, 
 no matter what it is ! " 
 
 " No, no, my friend ; something much easier than all 
 that." 
 
 " Speak, Mademoiselle Bathilde, speak ! " 
 
 " First, it is necessary that you should swear to do it." 
 
 " I swear by Heaven ! " 
 
 "Whatever they may say to hinder you?" 
 
 " Hinder me from doing what you ask 1 Never ! " 
 
492 LE CHEVALIER D'HARMENTAL. 
 
 * Whatever may be the grief that it may cause me ? " 
 
 " Ah, that is a different thing. If it is to give you 
 pain, I would rather be cut in pieces." 
 
 " But if I beg you, my friend, my brother 1 " said 
 Bathilde, in her most persuasive voice. 
 
 "Oh, if you speak like that, I shall cry like the 
 Fountain of the Innocents ! " And Boniface began to 
 sob. 
 
 " You will tell me all, then, my dear Boniface ? " 
 
 " Everything." 
 
 " Well, tell me first — " Bathilde stopped. 
 
 "What?" 
 
 " Can you not imagine, Boniface 1 " 
 
 "Yes, I think so. You want to know what has be- 
 come of Monsieur Raoul, do you not?" 
 
 " Oh, yes ! " cried Bathilde ; " in Heaven's name, what 
 has become of him 1 " 
 
 " Poor fellow ! " murmured Boniface. 
 
 " Mon Dieu ! is he dead % " exclaimed Bathilde, sitting 
 up in the bed. 
 
 " No, happily not ; but he is a prisoner." 
 
 "Where 1 ?" 
 
 " In the Bastille." 
 
 " I feared it," said Bathilde, sinking down in the bed ; 
 "in the Bastille! Oh, mon Dieu! mon Dieu/" 
 
 " Oh, now, it is you who are crying, Mademoiselle 
 Bathilde. ' 
 
 11 And I am here in this bed, chained, dying ! " cried 
 Bathilde. 
 
 " Oh, do not cry like that, Mademoiselle ; it is your 
 poor Boniface who entreats you." 
 
 " No, I will be firm ; I will have courage. See, Boniface, 
 I weep no longer; but you understand," she continued, 
 with increasing excitement, for the fever gained on her, 
 
BONIFACE. 493 
 
 " that I must know everything from hour to hour, so that 
 when he dies I may die." 
 
 " You die, Mademoiselle Bathilde ! never, never ! " 
 " I have promised him I would; I have sworn it. Boni- 
 face, you will keep me informed of everything ? " 
 " Oh, wretch that I am, what have I promised ! " 
 " And if it must he at the moment, — the terrible 
 moment, — you will aid me, you will conduct me, will 
 you not, Boniface 1 I must see him again — once — 
 once more — though it be on the scaffold." 
 
 " I will do all you desire, Mademoiselle," said Boniface, 
 falling on his knees, and trying vainly to restrain his 
 sobs. 
 
 * You promise me ? " 
 "I swear it." 
 
 " Silence ! some one is coming. Not a word of this ; it 
 is a secret between us two. Rise ; wipe your eyes ; do as 
 I do, — smile." And Bathilde began to laugh with a 
 feverish nervousness that was frightful to see. Fortu- 
 nately, it was Buvat who came in ; and Boniface profited 
 by his entrance to depart. 
 
 " Well, how are you % " asked the good man. 
 
 u Better, little father, — much better ; I feel my strength 
 returning. In a few days I shall be able to rise. But you, 
 little father, why do you not go to the office % " Buvat 
 sighed deeply. u It was kind not to leave me when I was 
 ill, but now that I am getting better, you must return to 
 the library ; do you hear, little father 1 " 
 
 " Yes, my child, yes," said Buvat, swallowing his sobs. 
 " Yes, I am going." 
 
 * Are you going without kissing me 1 " 
 " No, my child, on the contrary." 
 
 " Why, here you are crying, and yet you see that I am 
 better. Do you want me to die of grief ? " 
 
494 LE CHEVALIER D'HARMENTAL. 
 
 11 1 cry ! " said Buvat, wiping his eyes with his hand- 
 kerchief. " I crying ! If I am crying, it is only for 
 joy. Yes, I am going, my child, — to my office j I am 
 going." 
 
 And Buvat, after having embraced Bathilde, returned 
 home, — for he would not tell his poor child that he had 
 lost his place, — and the young girl was left alone. 
 
 Then she breathed more freely ; her mind was at rest. 
 Boniface, in his capacity as clerk to an attorney at Chatelet, 
 was in the very position that Avould enable him to hear of 
 whatever might happen, and she was sure that he would 
 tell her everything. In fact, on the next day she learned 
 that Raoul had been interrogated, and that he had claimed 
 to be solely accountable for all that had occurred. The 
 day following she learned that he had been confronted 
 with Laval, Yalef, and Pompadour, but that the examina- 
 tion had led to no disclosures. Faithful to his promise, 
 Boniface every evening brought her the day's news ; and 
 every evening Bathilde, at this recital, however alarming 
 it might be, felt a renewal of her strength. A fortnight 
 passed thus, at the end of which time Bathilde began to 
 get up and walk a little about the room, to the great joy 
 of Buvat, Nanette, and the whole Denis family. 
 
 One day Boniface, contrary to his custom, returned 
 home from Joullu's at three o'clock and entered the room 
 of the sufferer. The poor boy was so pale and so cast 
 down that Bathilde understood that he brought some 
 terrible information ; and uttering a cry, she rose upright, 
 with her eyes fixed on him. "All is finished, then?" 
 she said. 
 
 " Alas ! " answered Boniface, " it is all through his own 
 obstinacy. They offered him his pardon, — do you under- 
 stand, Mademoiselle Bathilde 1 — his pardon, if he would 
 r— and he would not speak a word. 
 
BONIFACE. 495 
 
 u Then,*' cried Bathilde, " no more hope ; he is con- 
 demned." 
 
 "This morning, Mademoiselle Bathilde, this morning." 
 
 " To death 1 " 
 
 Boniface bowed his head. 
 
 " And when is he to be executed 1 " 
 
 " To-morrow morning, at eight o'clock." 
 
 " Very well," said Bathilde. 
 
 "But perhaps there is still hope," said Boniface. 
 
 "What hope?" asked Bathilde. 
 
 " If even now he would denounce his accomplices." 
 
 The young girl began to laugh, but so strangely that 
 Boniface shuddered from head to foot. 
 
 " Well," said Boniface, " who knows 1 I, if I were in 
 his place, for example, should not fail to do so. I should 
 say, ' It was not I, — on my honor, it was not I ; it was 
 such a one, and such another, and so on.' " 
 
 " Boniface, I must go out." 
 
 "You, Mademoiselle Bathilde ! " cried Boniface, terrified. 
 "You go out ! why, it would kill you." 
 
 " I say I must go out." 
 
 " But you cannot stand upright." 
 
 " You are wrong, Boniface ; I am strong. See ! " And 
 Bathilde began to walk up and down the room with a firm 
 step. 
 
 "Moreover," added Bathilde, "you will go and get me 
 a carriage." 
 
 " But, Mademoiselle Bathilde — " 
 
 " Boniface," said the young girl, " you have promised to 
 obey me. Till this minute you have kept your word ; are 
 you getting lax in your devotion 1 " 
 
 " I, Mademoiselle Bathilde ! I lax in my devotion to 
 you *? You ask for a carriage ; I will bring two." 
 
 " Go, my friend, my brother," said Bathilde. 
 
496 LE CHEVALIER D'HARMENTAL. 
 
 " Oh, Mademoiselle Bathilde, with such words you can 
 make me do everything you wish. In five minutes the 
 carriage will be here." And Boniface ran out. 
 
 Bathilde had on a loose white robe ; she tied it in with 
 a girdle, threw a cloak over her shoulders, and got ready. 
 As she was advancing to the door, Madame Denis entered. 
 
 " Oh, my dear child, what in Heaven's name are you 
 going to do? " 
 
 " Madame," said Bathilde, " it is necessary that I should 
 go out." 
 
 " Go out ! you are mad ! " 
 
 " No, Madame," said Bathilde, with a sad smile, " I am 
 in perfect possession of my senses ; but you would drive 
 me mad by retaining me." 
 
 " But at least tell me where you are going, my dear 
 child." 
 
 " Do you not know that he is condemned, Madame 1 " 
 
 "Oh, mon Dieu! mon Dieu ! who told you that? I had 
 asked every one to keep from you that horrible news." 
 
 " Yes, and to-morrow you would have told me that he 
 was dead. And I should have answered, ' You have killed 
 him, for I had a means of saving him perhaps.' " 
 
 " You, you, my child ! you have a means of saving 
 him % " 
 
 " I said perhaps, Madame. Let me try that means ; it 
 is the only one remaining." 
 
 "Go, my child," said Madame Denis, struck by the 
 inspired tone of Bathilde's voice ; "go, and may God 
 guide you ! " 
 
 Bathilde went out, descended the staircase with a slow 
 but firm step, crossed the street, ascended the four stories 
 without resting, and opened the door of her room, which 
 she had not entered since the day of the catastrophe. At 
 the noise which she made, Nanette came out of the inner 
 
BONIFACE. 497 
 
 room, and uttered a cry ; she thought she saw the ghost 
 of her young mistress. 
 
 "Well," asked Bathilde, in a grave tone, "what is it, 
 my good Nanette 1 " 
 
 " Oh, mon Dim ! " cried the poor woman, trembling, 
 u is that really you, or is it your spirit ? " 
 
 " It is I, Nanette, — myself ; touch me, kiss me. Thank 
 God, I am not yet dead." 
 
 " And why have you left Madame Denis's house ? Have 
 they said anything to wound you % " 
 
 " No, Nanette ; but I have something to do which is 
 necessary, indispensable." 
 
 " You go out in your present state ! you will kill your- 
 self ! Monsieur Buvat ! Monsieur Buvat ! here is our young 
 lady going out ; come and tell her that it must not be." 
 
 Bathilde turned toward Buvat with the intention of 
 employing her ascendency over him, if he endeavored to 
 stop her ; but she saw him with so sorrowful a face that 
 she did not doubt that he knew the fatal news. On his 
 part, Buvat burst into tears on seeing her. 
 
 " My father," said Bathilde, " what has been done to-day 
 has been the work of men ; what remains is in the hands 
 of God, and He will have pity on us." 
 
 " Oh ! " cried Buvat, sinking into a chair, "it is I who 
 have killed him ! it is I who have killed him ! " 
 
 Bathilde went up to him solemnly and kissed him on 
 his forehead. 
 
 " But what are you going to do, my child 1 " 
 
 " My duty," answered Bathilde. 
 
 She opened a little cupboard in the prie-Dieu, took out 
 a black pocket-book, opened it, and drew out a letter. 
 
 " Oh, you are right ! you are right, my child ! I had 
 forgotten that letter." 
 
 " I have remembered it," answered Bathilde, kissing 
 32 
 

 498 LE CHEVALIER D'HARMENTAL. 
 
 the letter, and placing it next her heart, " for it was the 
 sole inheritance my mother left me." 
 
 At that moment they heard the noise of a carriage at 
 the door. 
 
 " Adieu, father ! adieu, Nanette ! " said Bathilde. "Pray 
 for my success." And she went away with a solemn 
 gravity which made her, in the eyes of those who watched 
 her, seem to be like a saint. 
 
 At the door she found Boniface waiting with the 
 carriage. 
 
 "Shall I go with you, Mademoiselle Bathilde?" he 
 asked. 
 
 "No, no, my friend," said Bathilde, "not now; to- 
 morrow, perhaps." 
 
 She entered the carriage. 
 
 " Where to ? " asked the coachman. 
 
 " To the Arsenal." 
 
THE THREE VISITS. 499 
 
 CHAPTER XLIV. 
 
 THE THREE VISITS. 
 
 On arriving at the Arsenal, Bathilde asked for Made- 
 moiselle de Launay, who, at her request, led her at once 
 to Madame du Maine. 
 
 " Ah, it is you, my child ! " said the duchess, with a 
 distracted air and voice ; " it is well to remember one's 
 friends when they are in misfortune." 
 
 "Alas, Madame!" replied Bathilde, "I come to your 
 royal Highness to speak of one still more unfortunate. 
 Doubtless your royal Highness has lost some of your 
 titles, some of your dignities ; but at that point vengeance 
 will stop, for no one would dare to attack the life, or even 
 the liberty, of the son of Louis XIV. or the granddaughter 
 of the great CondeV' 
 
 " The life, no ; but the liberty, I will not answer for it. 
 Do you know that that idiot of an Abbe Brigaud has got 
 himself arrested three days ago at Orleans, dressed as a 
 pedler, and — on false revelations, which they represented 
 to him as coming from me — has confessed all and com- 
 promised us terribly, so that I should not be astonished at 
 being arrested this very day ? " 
 
 " He for whom I come to implore your pity, Madame, 
 has revealed nothing, but, on the contrary, is condemned 
 to death for having kept silence." 
 
 " Ah, my dear child, " cried the duchess, " you speak 
 of poor D'Harmental ; he is a noble-hearted man. You 
 know him, then 1 " 
 
500 LE CHEVALIER D'HARMENTAL. 
 
 u Alas ! " said Mademoiselle de Launay, " Bathilde not 
 only knows him, but she loves him." 
 
 " Poor child ! but what can I do 1 You see clearly 
 that I can do nothing ; I have no influence. For me to 
 attempt anything in his favor would be to take away 
 from him the last hope remaining." 
 
 "I know it, Madame," said Bathilde, "and I ask of 
 your Highness but one thing ; it is that through some of 
 your friends or acquaintances I may gain admission to 
 Monseigneur the Eegent. The rest lies with me." 
 
 " My child, do you know what you are asking 1 " in- 
 quired the duchess. u Do you know that the regent 
 respects no one 1 Do you know that you are beautiful 
 as an angel, and that your paleness gives you a ravish- 
 ing attractiveness 1 Do you know — " 
 
 " Madame," said Bathilde, with a lofty dignity, " I 
 know that my father saved his life, and died in his 
 service." 
 
 " Ah, that ! that is another thing," said the duchess. 
 " Wait ; let me see, — what is it best to do ? Yes, that 
 is it; De Launay, call Malezieux." 
 
 Mademoiselle de Launay obeyed ; and a moment after- 
 ward the faithful chancellor entered. 
 
 " Malezieux," said the duchess, " you must take this 
 child to the Duchesse de Berri, with a recommendation 
 from me. She must see the regent, and at once, you 
 understand ; the life of a man depends upon it, — it is 
 that of D'Harmental, whom I would myself give so 
 much to save." 
 
 " I go, Madame," said Malezieux. 
 
 " You see, my child," said the duchess, " I do all I can 
 for you ; if I can be useful to you in any other way, — if 
 to prepare his flight or to seduce a jailer, money is needed, 
 — I have still some diamonds, which cannot be better em- 
 
THE THREE VISITS. 501 
 
 ployed than in saving the life of so brave a gentleman. 
 Come, lose no time. Kiss me, and go at once to my 
 niece ; you know that she is her father's favorite." 
 
 "I know, Madame," said Bathilde, "that you are an 
 angel ; and if I succeed, I shall owe you more than my 
 life." 
 
 " Poor thing ! " said the duchess, looking at Bathilde as 
 she went away. Then, when Bathilde was out of sight, 
 "Come, De Launay," continued Madame du Maine, 
 who in fact was expecting every moment to be arrested, 
 " let us return to our trunks." 
 
 Bathilde, accompanied by Malezieux, arrived at the 
 Luxembourg in twenty minutes, and thanks to the influ- 
 ence of Malezieux, she was admitted without difficulty. 
 She was conducted into a little boudoir, where she was 
 requested to wait while the chancellor should see her 
 royal Highness, and inform her of the favor they came 
 to ask. 
 
 Malezieux acquitted himself of the commission with all 
 the zeal he carried into affairs committed to him by Ma- 
 dame du Maine, and Bathilde had not waited ten minutes 
 when she saw him return with the Duchesse de Berri. 
 The duchess had an excellent heart, and she had been 
 greatly moved by Malezieux's recital j so that when she 
 appeared, there was no mistaking the interest she already 
 felt in the young girl who came to solicit her protection. 
 Bathilde came to her, and would have fallen at her feet, 
 but the duchess took her by the hand, and kissing her on 
 the forehead, — 
 
 " My poor child," said she, " why did you not come to 
 me a week ago 1 " 
 
 u And why a week ago rather than to-day, Madame 1 " 
 asked Bathilde, with anxiety. 
 
 " Because a week ago I should have yielded to none the 
 
502 LE CHEVALIER D'HARMENTAL. 
 
 pleasure of taking you to my father; but that now is 
 impossible." 
 
 " Impossible ! Oh, mon Dieu ! And why 1 n cried 
 Bathilde. 
 
 " Do you not know that I am in complete disgrace since 
 the day before yesterday 1 Alas ! princess as I am, I am 
 a woman like you, and like you I have had the misfor- 
 tune to love. We daughters of the royal race, you know, 
 have hearts that are not our own ; they are jewels that 
 constitute a portion of the treasure of the crown, and 
 it is a crime to dispose of them without the authority of 
 the king and his ministers. I have disposed of my heart, 
 and I have nothing to say, for I was pardoned ; but I dis- 
 posed of my hand, and I am punished. For three days 
 my lover has been my husband. See, what a strange 
 thing ! They make a crime of what in any one else 
 would have been praised. My father himself is angry 
 with me, and for three days, — that is to say, from the 
 moment when I could present myself before him without 
 good reason for shame, — I am forbidden his presence. 
 Yesterday my guard was taken from me ; this morning 
 I presented myself at the Palais Royal and was refused 
 admittance." 
 
 " Alas ! " said Bathilde, u I am very unfortunate, for I 
 had no hope but in you, Madame, and I know no one 
 who can introduce me to Monseigneur the Regent. And 
 it is to-morrow, Madame, at eight o'clock, that they Avill 
 kill him whom I love as you love Monsieur de Riom. 
 Oh, Madame, take pity on me, for if you do not, I 
 am lost ! " 
 
 "Mon Dieu! Riom, come to our aid," said the duchess, 
 turning to her husband, who entered at this moment. 
 " Here is a poor child who wants to see my father with- 
 out delay; her life depends on the interview. Her life ! 
 
THE THREE VISITS. 503 
 
 "What am I saying ? More than her life, — the life of 
 the man she loves. Lauzun's nephew should never be at 
 a loss ; find us some course to take, and if it be possible, I 
 will love you more than ever." 
 
 " I have found one," said Riom, smiling. 
 
 " Oh, Monsieur," cried Bathilde, " tell it to me, and I 
 will be eternally grateful." 
 
 " Come, speak ! " said the Duchesse de Berri, in a 
 voice almost as eager as Bathilde's. 
 
 " But it compromises your sister singularly." 
 
 " Which one?" 
 
 " Mademoiselle de Valois." 
 
 "Aglae! how so?" 
 
 " Do you not know that there exists a kind of sorcerer 
 who has the power of appearing before her day or night, 
 no one knows how ? " 
 
 " Richelieu ? It is true ! " cried the Duchesse de Berri ; 
 "Richelieu can help us. But — " 
 
 " But what, Madame?" 
 
 " He will not, perhaps." 
 
 " Oh, I will implore him so earnestly that he will take 
 pity on me," said Bathilde. " Besides, you will speak a 
 word for me, will you not ? He will not dare to refuse 
 what your Highness asks." 
 
 a We will do better than that," said the duchess. 
 " Riom, call Madame de Mouchy ; beg her to take Made- 
 moiselle herself to the duke. Madame de Mouchy is my 
 first lady of honor, my child," continued the duchess, 
 turning to Bathilde as Riom went out; "and it is sup- 
 posed that the Due de Richelieu owes her some grati- 
 tude. You see I could not choose you a better 
 introductress." 
 
 14 Oh, thanks, Madame ! " cried Bathilde, kissing the 
 duchess's hands ; " you are right, and all hope is not yet 
 
504 LE CHEVALIER D'HARMENTAL. 
 
 ■> 
 
 lost. And you say that the Due de Richelieu is able to 
 
 gain admission to the Palais Royal % " 
 
 il Stay ! let us understand each other. I do not say so ; 
 report says so." 
 
 " Oh," cried Bathilde, " if we only find him at home ! " 
 
 " Yes, that indeed is uncertain ; hut yet, let me see, — 
 what time is it 1 Scarcely eight o'clock. He will probably 
 sup in town, and return to dress. I will tell Madame de 
 Mouchy to wait for him with you. Will you not," said 
 she, turning to the lady of honor, who now entered, " wait 
 for the duke till he returns 1 " 
 
 " I will do whatever your Highness orders," said Ma- 
 dame de Mouchy. 
 
 " Well, I order you to obtain from the Due de Richelieu 
 a promise that Mademoiselle shall see the regent, and I 
 authorize you to use for this purpose whatever influence 
 you may possess over him." 
 
 4 'Madame goes a long way," said Madame de Mouchy, 
 smiling. 
 
 " Go, go ! " said the duchess j " and do what I tell you. 
 I assume all the responsibility. And you, my child, be 
 brave ! Go with Madame ; and if you hear bad things 
 said of that poor Duchesse de Berri, whom they hate so 
 much because one day she received the ambassadors on 
 a throne three steps from the floor, and because at an- 
 other time she went through the streets of Paris attended 
 by four trumpeters, say to those who anathematize me 
 that at heart I am a good woman, and that in spite of all 
 these anathemas I hope that much will be forgiven me, 
 because I have loved much. Is it not so, Riom 1 " 
 
 " Oh, Madame ! " cried Bathilde, " I don't know whether 
 good things or bad are said of you, but I know that to 
 me you seem so good and great that I could kiss your 
 footsteps." 
 
THE THREE VISITS. 505 
 
 " Go, my child, go ; if you miss Monsieur de Richelieu, 
 you may not know where to find him, and you will per- 
 haps wait for him in vain." 
 
 "Since her Highness permits it, come, then, quick, 
 Madame," said Bathilde, u for every minute seems to me 
 an age." 
 
 A quarter of an hour afterward Bathilde and Madame 
 de Mouchy were at Richelieu's hotel. Contrary to all 
 expectation, he was at home. Madame de Mouchy entered 
 at once, followed by Bathilde. They found Richelieu 
 occupied with Raffe, his secretary, in burning a number 
 of useless letters, and putting others in order. 
 
 " Eh, bon Dieu, Madame ! " said Richelieu, coming for- 
 ward with a smile on his lips, " what good wind blows 
 you here? And to what event do I owe the happiness 
 of receiving you at my house at half-past eight in the 
 evening 1 " 
 
 "To my wish to enable you to do a good action, 
 Duke." 
 
 u Ah, really 1 In that case, make haste, Madame." 
 
 " Do you leave Paris this evening 1 " 
 
 " No ; but I am going to-morrow morning, — to the 
 Bastille." 
 
 "What joke is this?" 
 
 " I assure you it is no joke at all to leave my hotel, 
 where I am very comfortable, for that of the king, where 
 I shall be just the reverse. I know it, for this will be my 
 third visit." 
 
 " But what makes you think you will be arrested to- 
 morrow ? " 
 
 " I have been warned." 
 
 " By a sure person 1 " 
 
 * Judge for yourself." And he handed a letter to Ma- 
 dame de Mouchy, who took it and read, — 
 
506 LE CHEVALIER D'HARMENTAL. 
 
 " Innocent or guilty, you have only time to fly. The re- 
 gent has just said aloud before me that he has caught the Due 
 de Richelieu at last. To-morrow you will be arrested." 
 
 "Do you think the person in a position to be well 
 informed 1" asked the duke. 
 
 " Yes, for I think I recognize the writing." 
 
 " You see, then, that I was right in telling you to make 
 haste. Now, if it is a thing which may be done in the 
 space of a night, speak ; I am at your orders." 
 
 " An hour will suffice/' 
 
 * Tell me, then; you know, Madame, that I can refuse 
 you nothing." 
 
 " Well," said Madame de Mouchy, " the thing is told in 
 a few words. Do you intend this evening to go and thank 
 the person who gave you this advice % " 
 
 11 Perhaps," said the duke, laughing. 
 
 " Well, you must present Mademoiselle to her." 
 
 " Mademoiselle ! ** cried the duke, astonished, and turn- 
 ing toward Bathilde, who till then had remained in the 
 background, and partially concealed in the obscurity ; 
 " and who is Mademoiselle 1 " 
 
 " A young girl who loves the Chevalier d'Harmental, — 
 who is to be executed to-morrow, as you know, and whose 
 pardon she wishes to ask from the regent." 
 
 " You love the Chevalier d'Harmental, Mademoiselle ? " 
 said the duke, addressing Bathilde. 
 
 " Oh, Monsieur ! " stammered Bathilde, blushing. 
 
 " Do not conceal it, Mademoiselle. He is a noble young 
 man, and I would give ten years of my own life to save 
 him. And do you think you have any means of interest- 
 ing the regent in his favor ] " 
 
 "I believe so." 
 
 " Good ! I only hope it may be so. Madame," con- 
 tinued the duke, turning to Madame de Mouchy, 
 
THE THREE VISITS. 507 
 
 to her royal Highness, and tell her from me that Made- 
 moiselle shall see the regent in an hour." 
 
 "Oh, Monsieur le Due ! " cried Bathilde. 
 
 "Decidedly, my dear Richelieu," said Madame de 
 Mouchy, " I begin to believe what is said of you, — that 
 you have made a compact with the Devil, and can pass 
 through key-holes ; and I confess I shall be less uneasy 
 now in seeing you go to the Bastille/' 
 
 " At any rate, you know, Madame, that charity teaches 
 us to visit prisoners ; and if you retain any recollection of 
 poor Armand — " 
 
 " Silence, Duke ! Be discreet, and we will see what can 
 be done for you. Meanwhile, you promise that Made- 
 moiselle shall see the regent % " 
 
 " It is a settled thing." 
 
 "In that case, adieu, Duke; and may the Bastille be 
 made comfortable to you ! " 
 
 "Is it adieu you say 1 " 
 
 " Au revoir ! " 
 
 " That is better ; " and having kissed Madame de 
 Mouchy's hand, Richelieu led her to the door. Then, 
 returning to Bathilde, — 
 
 " Mademoiselle," said he, " what I am about to do for 
 you compromises the reputation and honor of a princess 
 of the blood ; but the gravity of the occasion demands 
 some sacrifice. Swear to me, then, that you will never 
 tell but to one person, — for I know there are persons for 
 whom one has no secrets, — swear that you will never 
 speak of what you are about to see, and that no one — 
 excepting him — shall know in what manner you gained 
 admission to the regent." 
 
 " Oh, Monsieur le Due, I swear it by all I hold most 
 sacred in the world, — by my mother's memory ! " 
 
 " That will suffice," said the duke, ringing a bell. A 
 valet-de-chambre entered. 
 
503 LE CHEVALIER D'HARMENTAL. 
 
 " Lafosse," said the duke, "the bay horses and the car- 
 riage without arms." 
 
 " Monsieur le Due," said Bathilde, " if you would save 
 time, I have a hired carriage below." 
 
 " Very well ; that is still better. I am at your orders, 
 Mademoiselle." 
 
 " Am I to go with Monsieur le Due 1 " asked the 
 servant. 
 
 " No ; stay and help Raffe to put these papers in order. 
 There are several which it is quite unnecessary for Dubois 
 to see." 
 
 And the duke offered his arm to Bathilde, went down 
 with her, handed her into the carriage, and after telling 
 the coachman to stop at the corner of the Rue St. 
 Honore and the Rue de Richelieu, placed himself by her 
 side, as unconcerned in his demeanor as if he was not 
 aware that the fate from which he was attempting to 
 deliver the chevalier might be his own within a fort- 
 night. 
 
THE CLOSET. 509 
 
 CHAPTEK XLV. 
 
 THE CLOSET. 
 
 The carriage stopped at its destination, and Richelieu, 
 getting out and assisting Bathilde to alight, took a key 
 from his pocket, and opened the door of a house at the 
 corner of the Rue de Richelieu. 
 
 " I must ask your pardon, Mademoiselle," said he, 
 offering his arm to Bathilde, " for leading you hy "badly 
 lighted staircases and passages ; but I am anxious not to 
 be recognized, should any one meet me here. We have 
 not far to go." 
 
 When he had ascended about twenty steps, he stopped, 
 drew a second key from his pocket and opened a door, 
 then entered an antechamber, and taking a candle, went 
 back to light it by the lamp on the staircase. 
 
 " Once again I must ask pardon, Mademoiselle," said 
 the duke ; " but you will soon understand why I prefer to 
 dispense with a servant here." 
 
 It mattered little to Bathilde whether the duke had 
 a servant or not ; she entered the antechamber without 
 replying, and the duke locked the door behind her. 
 
 " Now follow me," said Richelieu ; and he walked before 
 the young girl, lighting her with the candle which he held 
 in his hand. They crossed a dining-room and drawing- 
 room, then entered a bedroom, where the duke stopped. 
 
 " Mademoiselle," said he, placing the candle on the 
 chimney-piece, " I have your word that you will reveal 
 nothing of what you are about to see?" 
 
510 LE CHEVALIER D'HARMENTAL. 
 
 " I have given you my promise, Monsieur le Due, and 
 I now renew it. Oh, I should be ungrateful indeed if I 
 should fail to keep it." 
 
 " Well, then, be the third in our secret. It is a secret 
 of love ; we put it under the safeguard of love." 
 
 The Due de Richelieu, sliding away a panel in the 
 woodwork, disclosed an opening in the wall, beyond which 
 was the back of a closet, on which he knocked softly 
 three times. Presently they heard a key turn in the lock, 
 and saw a light between the boards ; then a low voice 
 asked, " Is it you 1 " On the duke's replying in the af- 
 firmative, three of the boards were quietly detached, the 
 opening thus made affording a means of communication 
 from one room to the other ; and the duke and Bathilde 
 found themselves in the presence of Mademoiselle de 
 Valois, who uttered a cry on seeing her lover accompanied 
 by a woman. 
 
 " Fear nothing, dear Aglae," said the duke, passing into 
 the room where she was, and taking her hand, while 
 Bathilde remained motionless in her place, not daring to 
 move a step till her presence was explained. " You will 
 presently thank me for having betrayed the secret of our 
 blessed closet." 
 
 "But, Monsieur le Due, will you tell me — " began 
 Mademoiselle de Valois, pausing after these interrogative 
 words and looking at Bathilde uneasily. 
 
 " This very instant, very beautiful Princess. You have 
 heard me speak of the Chevalier d'Harmental, have you 
 not?" 
 
 " The day before yesterday you told me that by a word 
 he might save his own life and compromise you all, but 
 that he would not speak that word." 
 
 " Well, he has not spoken ; and he is condemned to 
 death, and is to be executed to-morrow. This young girl 
 
THE CLOSET. 511 
 
 loves him, and his pardon depends on the regent. Do 
 you understand 1 " 
 
 " Oh, yes, yes ! " said Mademoiselle" de Yalois. 
 
 " Come, Mademoiselle," said the duke to Bathilde, taking 
 her by the hand ; then, turning again to the princess, " She 
 did not know how to reach your father, my dear Aglae, 
 and came to rne just as I had received your letter. I had 
 to thank you for the good advice you gave me ; and as 
 I know your heart, I thought I should please you by show- 
 ing my gratitude in offering you an opportunity to save 
 the life of a man to whose silence you probably owe my 
 own." 
 
 "And you were right, my dear Duke. You are wel- 
 come, Mademoiselle. What can I do for you 1 " 
 
 "I wish to see Monseigneur the Eegent," said Bathilde, 
 "and your Highness can take me to him." 
 
 " Will you wait for me, Duke 1 " asked Mademoiselle de 
 Valois, uneasily. 
 
 " Can you doubt it ] " 
 
 " Then go into the closet, lest any one should surprise 
 you here. I will take Mademoiselle to my father, and 
 return immediately." 
 
 " I will wait," said the duke, following the instructions 
 of the princess and entering the closet. Mademoiselle de 
 Valois exchanged a few whispered words with her lover, 
 locked the closet, put the key in her pocket, and holding 
 out her hand to Bathilde, — 
 
 " Mademoiselle," said she, " all women who love are 
 sisters. Armand and you did well to rely upon me ; come." 
 
 Bathilde kissed the hand the princess offered, and fol- 
 lowed her. They passed through all the rooms facing the 
 square of the Palais Royal, and then, turning to the left, 
 entered those which looked on the Rue de Valois, among 
 which was the regent's bedroom. 
 
512 LE CHEVALIER D'HAIIMENTAL. 
 
 " We have arrived," said Mademoiselle de Valois, stop- 
 ping before a door, and turning to Bathilde, who, on re- 
 ceiving this information, trembled and turned pale ; for 
 all the moral force which had sustained her for the last 
 three or four hours was ready to disappear just when she 
 needed it the most. 
 
 "Oh, mon Dieuf I shall never dare to speak," said 
 Bathilde. 
 
 " Courage, Mademoiselle-! my father is kind. Enter j 
 fall at his feet ; God and his own heart will do the rest." 
 
 At these words, seeing that the young girl still hesitated, 
 she opened the door, pushed Bathilde in, and closed it be- 
 hind her. She then ran down with a light step to rejoin 
 Eichelieu, leaving Bathilde to plead her cause alone with 
 the regent. 
 
 At this unforeseen action Bathilde uttered a low cry; 
 and the regent, who was walking to and fro with his head 
 bent down, raised his head, and turned around. Bathilde, 
 incapable of making a step in advance, fell on her knees, 
 drew out her letter, and held it toward the regent. 
 
 The regent's sight was imperfect ; he did not see clearly 
 what was taking place, and advanced toward this woman, 
 who appeared to him in the shade as a white and indis- 
 tinct form. Immediately, in that form, at first unknown, 
 he recognized a woman, and in that form of a woman, 
 a young girl beautiful and in a suppliant attitude. 
 
 As to the poor child, in vain she attempted to articulate 
 a prayer. Voice and strength failing her together, she 
 would have fallen if the regent had not supported her in 
 his arms. 
 
 "Mon Lieu f Mademoiselle," said the regent, on whom 
 the signs of grief produced their ordinary effect, " what is 
 the matter 1 What can I do for you 1 Come to this arm- 
 chair, I entreat you." 
 
THE CLOSET. 513 
 
 * No, Monseigneur, it is at your feet that I should be, 
 for I come to ask a boon." 
 
 "And what is it?" 
 
 " See first who I am, Monseigneur, and then I may- 
 dare to speak;" and she held out the letter, on which 
 rested her only hope, to the Due d'Orle'ans. 
 
 The regent took the letter, and by the light of a candle 
 which burned on the chimney-piece recognized his own 
 writing, and read as follows : — 
 
 Madame, — Your husband has died for France and for me. 
 Neither France nor I can give you back your husband ; but 
 remember that if ever you are in want of anything we are 
 both your debtors. Your affectionate 
 
 Philippe d'Orleans. 
 
 " I recognize this letter perfectly as my own," said the 
 regent ; " but to the shame of my memory I must confess 
 that I do not know to whom it was written." 
 
 " Look at the address, Monseigneur," said Bathilde, a 
 little reassured by the expression of benevolence on the 
 duke's face. 
 
 " Clarice du Rocher ! " cried the regent. " Yes, indeed, 
 I remember now ; I wrote this letter from Spain after the 
 death of Albert, who was killed at the battle of Almanza. 
 I wrote this letter to his widow. How did it fall into 
 your hands, Mademoiselle 1 n 
 
 " Alas, Monseigneur, I am the daughter of Albert and 
 Clarice." 
 
 " You, Mademoiselle 1 And what has become of your 
 mother 1 " 
 
 " She is dead, Monseigneur." 
 
 " Long since 1 " 
 
 " Nearly fourteen years." 
 
 "But happy, doubtless, and wanting nothing 1 " 
 
 "In despair, Monseigneur, and wanting everything." 
 33 
 
514 LE CHEVALIER D'HARMENTAL. 
 
 " But why did she not apply to me % " 
 
 u Your Highness was still in Spain." 
 
 " Oh, mon Dieu ! wliat do you say 1 Continue, Made- 
 moiselle, for you cannot imagine how much you interest 
 me. Poor Clarice, poor Albert ! They loved each other 
 so much, I remember. She could not survive him. Do 
 you know that your father saved my life at Nerwinden, 
 Mademoiselle 1 " 
 
 " Yes, Monseigneur, I know it ; and that gave me cour- 
 age to present myself before you." 
 
 "But you, poor child, poor orphan, what became of you?" 
 
 " I, Monseigneur, was taken by a friend of our family, 
 a poor writer called Jean Buvat." 
 
 "Jean Buvat! " cried the regent, "wait! I know that 
 name. Jean Buvat ! Why, that is the poor devil of a 
 copyist who discovered the whole conspiracy, and who 
 some days ago made his demands in person. A place in 
 the library, was it not, — some arrears due ] " 
 
 "The same, Monseigneur." 
 
 " Mademoiselle," replied the regent, " it appears that 
 those who surround you are destined to save me. I am 
 thus twice your debtor. You said you had a boon to ask 
 of me. Speak boldly ; I listen to you." 
 
 " Oh, my God," murmured Bathilde, " give me 
 strength ! " 
 
 " Is it, then, a very important and difficult thing that 
 you desire 1 " 
 
 " Monseigneur," said Bathilde, "it is the life of a man 
 *^ho has deserved death." 
 
 " Is it the Chevalier d'Harmental ? " 
 
 " Alas, Monseigneur, it is." 
 
 The regent's brow became pensive, while Bathilde, 
 seeing the impression produced by her demand, felt her 
 heart beat and her knees tremble. 
 
THE CLOSET. 515 
 
 u Is be your relative, your ally, your friend 1 " 
 
 " He is my life, lie is my soul, Monseigneur ; I love him." 
 
 " But do you know that if I pardon him I must pardon 
 all the rest, and that there are some still more guilty than 
 he is?" 
 
 " His life only, Monseigneur ; all I ask is that he may 
 live." 
 
 " But if I change his sentence to a perpetual imprison- 
 ment, you will never see him again. What would become 
 of you then 1 " asked the regent. 
 
 Bathilde was obliged to support herself by the back of 
 a chair. 
 
 " I would enter into a convent, where I could pray the 
 rest of my life for you, Monseigneur, and for him." 
 
 "That cannot be," said the regent. 
 
 " Why not, Monseigneur 1 " 
 
 "Because this very day, this very hour, I have been 
 asked for your hand, and have promised it." 
 
 " You have promised my hand, Monseigneur 1 and to 
 whom 1 " 
 
 " Head," said the regent, taking an open letter from his 
 desk, and presenting it to the young girl. 
 
 " Kaoul ! " cried Bathilde ; " Raoul's writing ! Oh, mon 
 Bleu ! what is the meaning of this 1 " 
 
 " Read," repeated the regent. 
 
 And in a choking voice Bathilde read the following 
 letter : — 
 
 Monseigneur, — I have deserved death ; I know it, and 
 I do not ask you for life. I am ready to die at the day 
 and hour appointed ; but it depends on your Highness to 
 make this death sweeter to me. I love a young girl whom I 
 should have married if I had lived ; grant that she may be my 
 wife before I die. In leaving her forever alone and friendless 
 in the world, let me at least have the consolation of giving 
 
516 LE CHEVALIER D'HARMENTAL. 
 
 her the safeguard of my name and fortune. On leaving the 
 church, Monseigneur, I will walk to the scaffold. This is my 
 last wish, my sole desire. Do not refuse the prayer of a 
 dying man. 
 
 Raoul d'Harmental. 
 
 "Oh, Monseigneur," said Bathilde, sobbing, "you see 
 that while I thought of him, he thought of me. Am I 
 not right to love him, when he loves me so much 1 " 
 
 " Yes," said the regent, "and I grant his request ; it is 
 just. May that favor, as he says it will, sweeten his last 
 moments ! " 
 
 "Monseigneur," cried the young girl, "is that all you 
 grant him 1 ? " 
 
 " You see," said the regent, "he is just ; he asks 
 nothing else." 
 
 " Oh, it is cruel ! it is frightful ! — to see him again, 
 and lose him at the same moment ! His life, Monseigneur, 
 his life, I implore you ; and let me never see him again ! 
 I prefer that." 
 
 " Mademoiselle," said the regent, in a tone which ad- 
 mitted of no reply, and writing some lines on a paper 
 which he sealed, " here is a letter to Monsieur de Launay, 
 the governor of the Bastille ; it contains my instructions 
 with regard to the prisoner. My captain of the Guards 
 will go with you, and see that my instructions are 
 followed." 
 
 " Oh, his life, Monseigneur ! his life ! On my knees, 
 and in the name of Heaven, I implore you ! " 
 
 The regent rang the bell ; a valet entered. 
 
 " Call Monsieur le Marquis de Lafare," he said. 
 
 "Oh, Monseigneur, you are cruel ! " said Bathilde, rising. 
 " Permit me, then, to die with him. We will not be sepa- 
 rated, even on the scaffold ; we will be together, even in 
 the tomb." 
 
THE CLOSET. 517 
 
 " Monsieur de Lafare, accompany Mademoiselle to the 
 Bastille," said the regent. " Here is a letter for Monsieur 
 de Launay; read it with him, and see that the orders it 
 contains are punctually executed." 
 
 Then, without listening to Bathilde's last cry of despair, 
 the Due d'Orl^ans opened the door of a closet and 
 disappeared. 
 
518 LE CHEVALIER D'tfAKMENTAL. 
 
 CHAPTER XLVI. 
 
 THE MARRIAGE IN EXTREMIS. 
 
 Lafare dragged the young girl away, almost dying, and 
 placed her in one of the carriages always standing in the 
 courtyard of the Palais Eoyal. While on the way Ba- 
 thilde did not speak ; she was cold, dumb, and inanimate 
 as a statue. Her eyes were fixed and tearless ; but on 
 arriving at the fortress, she started. She fancied she had 
 seen in the shade, in the very place where the Chevalier 
 de Rohan was executed, something like a scaffold. A 
 little later a sentinel cried, " Qui vive ? " the carriage 
 rolled over a drawbridge and drew up at the door of the 
 governor's house. A footman out of livery opened the 
 door, and Lafare gave Bathilde his arm ; she could scarcely 
 stand, — all her strength had left her when hope left her. 
 Lafare and the valet were obliged almost to carry her to 
 the first floor. Monsieur de Launay was at supper. They 
 took Bathilde into a room to wait, while Lafare went at 
 once to the governor. Ten minutes passed, during which 
 Bathilde remained, half-dead, in the armchair into which 
 she had fallen on entering the room. The poor girl saw 
 but one thing, — her lover on the scaffold. 
 
 At the end of ten minutes Lafare re-entered with the 
 governor. Bathilde looked at them with a bewildered air. 
 Lafare approached her, and offering her his arm, — 
 
 " Mademoiselle," said he, " the church is prepared ; the 
 priest is ready." 
 
THE MARRIAGE IN EXTREMIS. 519 
 
 Bathilde rose without replying. She was pale and cold ; 
 she felt herself falling, and leaned on the arm which was 
 offered her. Monsieur de Launay went first, lighted by 
 two men bearing torches. 
 
 As Bathilde entered by one of the side doors, she saw 
 entering by the other the Chevalier d'Harmental accom- 
 panied by Yalef and Pompadour. These were his wit- 
 nesses, as De Launay and Lafare were hers. Each door 
 was kept by two of the French Guard, silent and motion- 
 
 The two lovers advanced, Bathilde pale and fainting, 
 Raoul calm and smiling. On arriving before the altar, 
 the chevalier took Bathilde's hand, and both fell on their 
 knees without having spoken a word. 
 
 The altar was lighted only by four wax tapers, which 
 threw a funereal light over the chapel, already dark, and 
 filled with gloomy recollections. 
 
 The priest began the ceremony ; he was a fine old man 
 with white hair, whose melancholy countenance showed 
 that the daily exercise of his priestly functions left deep 
 traces on his soul. He had been chaplain of the Bastille 
 for five-and-twenty years, and had heard many sad confes- 
 sions, and beheld many pitiable scenes. He addressed a 
 few words to the two kneeling before him ; but instead of 
 speaking to them of their duties as husband and as wife 
 and mother, he spoke of heaven's peace, of the divine 
 pity, and of the eternal resurrection. Bathilde felt that 
 she was suffocating. Raoul, seeing that she was on the 
 point of breaking out into weeping, took her hand and 
 looked at her with a resignation so sad and so profound 
 that the poor child made a last effort and restrained her 
 tears. At the moment of the benediction Bathilde laid 
 her head on Raoul's shoulder ; the priest thought she was 
 fainting, and stopped. 
 
520 LE CHEVALIER D'HARMENTAL. 
 
 " Finish, Father," murmured Bathilde. 
 
 The priest pronounced the sacramental words, to which 
 both replied by a " yes " in which seemed to be concen- 
 trated the whole strength of their souls. 
 
 The ceremony finished, D'Harmental asked Monsieur de 
 Launay if he might spend his few remaining hours with 
 his wife. Monsieur de Launay replied that there was no 
 objection. Kaoul embraced Pompadour and Valef, thanked 
 them for having served as witnesses at his marriage, 
 pressed Lafare's hand, thanked Monsieur de Launay for 
 his kindness to him during his imprisonment, and throw- 
 ing his arm round Bathilde, led her away by the door 
 through which he had entered. When they reached 
 D'Harmental's room, Bathilde could no longer contain 
 her tears ; a despairing cry escaped her lips ; and she fell 
 weeping on a chair, where doubtless D'Harmental had 
 often sat thinking of her during the three weeks of his 
 captivity. Raoul threw himself at her feet, and tried to 
 console her, but was himself so much moved by her grief 
 that his own tears mingled with hers. That heart of iron 
 melted in its turn, and Bathilde felt at once on her lips 
 the tears and the kisses of her lover. 
 
 They had been about half an hour together when they 
 heard steps approaching the door, and a key turning in 
 the lock. Bathilde started, and pressed D'Harmental 
 convulsively against her heart. Raoul understood the 
 dreadful fear which crossed her mind, and reassured her. 
 It could not be what she dreaded, since the execution was 
 fixed for eight o'clock in the morning, and eleven had 
 only just struck. 
 
 It was Monsieur de Launay who appeared. " Monsieur 
 le Chevalier," said he, " have the kindness to follow me." 
 
 " Alone 1 " asked D'Harmental, clasping Bathilde in 
 his arms. 
 
THE MARRIAGE IN EXTREMIS. 521 
 
 " No, with Madame," replied the governor. 
 
 " Oh, together, Eaoul, together ! " cried Bathilde ; 
 * where they like, so that we are together. We are ready, 
 Monsieur; we are ready." 
 
 Eaoul took Bathilde in his arms for a last emhrace ; 
 then, recalling all his pride, he followed Monsieur de 
 Launay with a face which showed no trace of the terrible 
 emotion he had experienced. They passed through some 
 ill-lighted corridors, descended a spiral staircase, and 
 found themselves at the door of a tower. This door 
 opened into a yard surrounded by high walls, which 
 served as a promenade to those prisoners who were not in 
 secret confinement. In this courtyard was standing a 
 carriage with two horses, on one of which was a postilion ; 
 and they saw, shining in the darkness, the cuirasses of a 
 dozen musketeers. A ray of hope crossed the minds of 
 the two lovers. Bathilde had asked the regent to substi- 
 tute for Raoul' s death a perpetual imprisonment. Perhaps 
 the regent had granted him this favor. That carriage, 
 ready, doubtless, to conduct him to some State prison, 
 those musketeers, destined, doubtless, to escort them, gave 
 to the supposition a semblance of reality. They raised 
 their eyes to heaven to thank God for this unexpected 
 happiness. Meanwhile Monsieur de Launay had signed to 
 the carriage to approach ; the postilion had obeyed ; the door 
 was opened ; and the governor, with his head uncovered, 
 held his hand to Bathilde, to assist her into the carriage. 
 
 She hesitated an instant, turning uneasily to see that 
 they did not take Raoul away in another direction ; but 
 seeing that he was ready to follow her, she got in without 
 resistance, An instant afterward Raoul was sitting by 
 her ; the door was closed ; and both carriage and escort 
 passed through the gate, over the drawbridge ; and they 
 found themselves outside of the Bastille. 
 
522 LE CHEVALIER D'HARMENTAL. 
 
 They threw themselves into each other's arms ; there 
 was no longer any doubt ; the regent granted D'Harmental 
 his life, and what was more, consented not to separate 
 him from Bathilde. 
 
 This was what Bathilde and D'Harmental had never 
 dared to hope; this life of seclusion — a punishment 
 to many — would be to them a paradise of love. They 
 would see each other continually; they would be always 
 together! What beyond this had they desired for their 
 future, even when they were masters of their own fate ? 
 A single sad idea crossed their minds ; and both, with 
 the sympathy of hearts who love, pronounced the name 
 of Buvat. 
 
 At this moment the carriage stopped ; at such a time 
 everything was, for the lovers, a cause of fear. They again 
 trembled, lest they should have given way too much to 
 hope. The door opened ; it was the postilion. 
 
 " What do you want ? " asked D'Harmental. 
 
 " I want to know where I am to take you." 
 
 " Where you are to take me ! Have you no orders ? " 
 
 " My orders were to take you to the Bois de Vincennes, 
 between the Chateau and Nogent-sur-Marne, and here we 
 are." 
 
 " And where is the escort 1 " asked D'Harmental. 
 
 " Oh, the escort left us at the barrier ! " 
 
 " Oh, mon Dieu /" cried D'Harmental, while Bathilde, 
 panting with hope, clasped her hands in silence, " is it 
 possible 1 " 
 
 The chevalier jumped out of the carriage, looked round 
 him anxiously, and extended his arms to Bathilde, who 
 also alighted ; then they uttered together a cry of joy 
 and thankfulness. They were free as the air they 
 breathed ; but the regent had ordered that they should 
 be taken to the yery place where D'Harmental had car- 
 
THE MARRIAGE IN EXTREMIS. 523 
 
 ried off Bourguignon, mistaking him for the regent 
 himself. . 
 
 This was the only revenge of Philippe le Debonnaire. / 
 
 Four years after this event, Buvat, reinstated in his 1 
 place, and with his arrears paid, had the satisfaction of / 
 placing a pen in the hand of a fine boy three years old. 
 He was the son of Raoul and Bathilde. 
 
 The first two names which the child wrote were Albert 
 du Rocher and Clarice Gray. The third was that of 
 Philippe d'Orleans, Regent of France. 
 
524 LE CHEVALIER D'HARMENTAL. 
 
 POSTSCRIPTUM. 
 
 Perhaps some persons have taken sufficient interest in 
 those who have played a secondary part in our history to 
 wish to know what became of them after the events 
 which defeated the conspiracy and saved the regent. We 
 will satisfy them in a few words. 
 
 The Due and Duchesse du Maine, to whose plots it was 
 determined to put an end, were arrested, — the duke at 
 Sceaux, and the duchess in her house in the Rue St. 
 Honore. The duke was taken to the chateau of Doullens, 
 and the duchess to that of Dijon, and afterward to the 
 citadel of Chalons. Both were set at liberty at the end of 
 a few months, disarming the regent, one by an absolute 
 denial, the other by a complete avowal. 
 
 Mademoiselle de Launay was conducted to the Bastille, 
 where her captivity, as may be read in the Memoirs she 
 has left, was much lightened by her amours with the 
 Chevalier de Mesnil ; and after her release, when lament- 
 ing the infidelity of her dear prisoner, she exclaimed more 
 than once, like Ninon or Sophie Arnould, " Oh, the good 
 times when we were so unhappy ! " 
 
 Richelieu was arrested, as Mademoiselle de Valois had 
 warned him that he would be, the day after that on which 
 he had procured Bathilde's interview with the regent ; but 
 his captivity was a new triumph for him. When it was 
 reported that the handsome prisoner had obtained per- 
 mission to walk on the terrace of the Bastille, the Rue 
 St. Antoine began to be frequented by the most elegant 
 
I 
 
 POSTSCRIPTUM. 525 
 
 carriages in Paris, and became in twenty-four hours the 
 fashionable promenade. The regent — who declared that 
 he had proofs of the treason of Monsieur de Eichelieu 
 sufficient to lose him four heads if he had them — would 
 not, however, risk his popularity with the fair sex by 
 keeping him long in prison. Richelieu, again at liberty, 
 after a captivity of three months, was more brilliant and 
 more sought after than ever ; but the closet had been 
 walled up, and Mademoiselle de Yalois had become 
 Duchesse de Modena. 
 
 The Abbe Brigaud — arrested, as we have said, at 
 Orleans — was kept for some time in the prison of that 
 town, to the great despair of Madame Denis and her 
 children ; but one fine morning, as they were sitting 
 down to breakfast, the abbe entered, as calm as ever. 
 They gave him a boisterous welcome, and plied him with 
 a multitude of questions relating to the details of his ad- 
 venture ; but with his habitual prudence he referred them 
 to his juridical declarations, saying that the affair had al- 
 ready given him so much trouble that they would greatly 
 oblige hrm by never speaking of it any more. Now, as 
 the Abbe" Brigaud was quite an autocrat in Madame 
 Denis's establishment, his desire was religiously respected, 
 and from that day the affair was as completely forgotten 
 in the Rue du Temps-Perdu as if it had never existed. 
 
 Some days afterward Pompadour, Valef, Laval, and -J / 
 Malezieux went out of prison in their turn, and began 
 again to pay their court to Madame du Maine as if 
 nothing had happened. 
 
 As to the Cardinal de Polignac, he was not even ar- 
 rested ; he was simply exiled to his Abbey d'Anchin. 
 
 Lagrange-Chancel, author of the " Philippiques," was 
 summoned to the Palais Royal. He found the regent 
 there, expecting him. 
 
526 LE CHEVALIER D'HARMENTAL. 
 
 "Monsieur," asked the prince, "have you thought 
 concerning me all that you have said % " 
 
 " Yes, Monsieur," replied Lagrange-Chancel. 
 
 " Very well ; that is very fortunate for you, Monsieur," 
 replied the regent, " for if you had written such infamies 
 against your conscience I would have had you hanged." 
 
 The regent sent him to Ste. Marguerite, where he re- 
 mained only three or four months ; for the regent's 
 enemies having spread the report that he had caused 
 Lagrange-Chancel to be poisoned, the prince found' no 
 better way to give the lie to that calumny than by opening 
 the prison doors to the alleged deceased, who went forth 
 more than ever swollen with hatred and venom. 
 
 This last proof of clemency appeared to Dubois so out 
 of all reason that he came to the regent, intending to make 
 a scene about it ; but the regent replied to his complaints 
 only by repeating the refrain of the song which Saint- 
 Simon had made on him : — 
 
 " Je suis debonnaire, moi, 
 Je suis debonnaire." 
 
 This enraged Dubois so much that the regent, in order 
 to pacify him, was obliged to transform him into his 
 Eminence the Cardinal. 
 
 La Fillon was so puffed up by Dubois's promotion that 
 she declared she would receive from that time forward 
 only those who could trace their noble descent as far back 
 as 1399. It should be said also that her house had lost 
 one of its most illustrious inmates. Three days after the 
 death of Captain Roquefinette, La Norman de entered the 
 house of the Filles-Repenties. 
 
 THE END. 
 
The New Library Moliere. 
 
 TRANSLATED BY KATHARINE PRESCOTT WORMELEY, 
 Translator of Balzac's Novels. 
 
 With Preface to Moliere 's Works by Honore de Balzac, Criticisms 
 on the Author by Sainte-Beuve, Portraits by Coypel and Mignard, 
 and decorative Titlepages. 
 
 Arrangement of the Plays. 
 
 The Misanthrope ; Le Bourgeois Gentilhomme. 
 Tartuffe; Les Precieuses Ridicules; George Dandin. 
 Les Femmes Savantes ; Le Malade Imaginaire. 
 L'Avare ; Don Juan ; Les Facheux. 
 Vol. V. L'Ecole des Femmes; L'£cole des Maris; Monsieur 
 
 de Pourceaugnac. 
 Vol. VI. L'Etourdi; Le Mariage Force; Le Medecin Malgre 
 Lui; La Critique de l'ltcole des Femmes. 
 
 Vol. 
 
 I. 
 
 Vol. 
 
 II. 
 
 Vol. 
 
 III. 
 
 Vol. 
 
 IV. 
 
 All are familiar with Miss Wormeley's admirable English version of 
 Balzac ; and we know of no greater praise in behalf of her recent trans- 
 lation of Moliere than to say it betrays the same knowledge, skill, and 
 insight that has made her name famous among the lovers of high liter- 
 ature. While it is undoubtedly true that the student of Moliere would 
 turn by preference to the original, it is equally true that those who cannot 
 read his works in their native form are now indebted to Miss Wormeley 
 for an appreciation of Sainte-Beuve's declaration u that to love Moliere is 
 to love uprightness and health of mind, in others as well as in ourselves." 
 She did a splendid service for two literatures by her admirable English 
 rendering of the author whom many regard as France's first novelist, and 
 now she continues by an equally excellent translation of the works of the 
 genius to whom is conceded with still greater unanimity the rank of 
 France's first dramatist. And by a happy thought Miss Wormeley avails 
 herself, for the presentation of Moliere to American readers, of the elo- 
 quent tribute which Balzac paid to him in his preface to his own edition 
 of Moliere, issued in his younger days. The translator also calls attention 
 to the singular parallel afforded in the lives of the two writers. These 
 "fathers of the 'Comedy of Human Life' and of realism," she says, " died 
 at the same age (fifty-one); the fame of both was of little more than fifteen 
 years' duration in their lifetime; both died of the toil to which their genius 
 impelled them ; and both are going down with ever-brightening lustre to 
 posterity." — Boston Budget. 
 
 I2mo. Half leather. Per volume, $1.50. 
 
 Orders may be addressed to 
 
 LITTLE, BROWN, AND COMPANY, 
 
 254 Washington Street, Boston. 
 
Alphonse Daudet in English. 
 
 New Uniform Edition of the Novels, Romances, and 
 Memoirs of Alphonse Daudet, the greatest French 
 Writer since Victor Hugo. Newly Translated by Katharine 
 Prescott Wormeley, Translator of Balzac's Novels; Jane Minot 
 Sedgwick, Translator of George Sand; Charles de Kay, and others. 
 
 Printed from large clear type, with Frontispieces. Twenty volumes. 
 l2mo. Cloth, gilt top. $1.50 per volume. 
 
 Arrangement of the volumes. 
 
 Alphonse Daudet. By Leon Daudet. To which is added 
 
 " My Brother and Myself," by Ernest Daudet i vol. 
 
 Fromont and Risler I vol. 
 
 The Nabob 2 vols. 
 
 Kings in Exile .1 vol. 
 
 Numa Roumestan .1 vol. 
 
 The Little Parish and Robert Helmont i voL 
 
 Little What 's His Name 1 vol. 
 
 Tartarin of Tarascon and Tartarin on the Alps . . 1 vol. 
 
 Port Tarascon and La Belle Nivernaise 1 vol. 
 
 Thirty Years in Paris, etc .1 vol. 
 
 The Immortal, etc 1 vol. 
 
 Souvenirs of a Man of Letters and Artists' Wives . 1 vol. 
 
 The Evangelist and Rose and Ninette 1 vol. 
 
 Jack 2 vols. 
 
 Monday Tales 1 vol. 
 
 Letters from My Mill, etc 1 vol. 
 
 Sappho 1 vol. 
 
 The Head of the Family 1 vol. 
 
 Of the brilliant group of men who have made contemporaneous French 
 literature, of that coterie toward which the eyes of all the reading world 
 have been turned with admiration and interest during the last half a cen- 
 tury, Daudet was the greatest. He was the most universal, the most 
 original, the most human." — From an Article in The Book Buyer, by L. 
 Van Vorst. 
 
 Has, perhaps, transferred bodily into his writings more actual events, 
 related in the newspapers, in the court-house, or in society, than any other 
 writer of the present age. Of some of his novels one hardly dare say that 
 they are works of fiction; their characters are men and women of our time; 
 they do in the book almost exactly what they had done in real life. — Prof. 
 Adolph Cohn, in The Bookman. 
 
 He is a novelist to his finger-tips. No one has such grace, such light- 
 ness and brilliancy of execution. — Henry James, in The Century. 
 
 The slightest pages from his pen will preserve the vibration of his soul 
 so long as our tongue exists imperishable. He is the author of twenty 
 masterpieces. — Iimile Zola. 
 
 LITTLE, BROWN, AND COMPANY, Publishers, 
 254 Washington Street, Boston. 
 

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