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"Monseigneur," said Buvat, twisting his little legs, 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?" "He lives at No. 110, Rue du Bac, monseigneur." "You will not make me copies of those papers?"
"Oh, mon Dieu!" "And that I belonged to it." "You?" "Yes, I, without being that is to say, you know that Prince de Listhnay?" "Well!" "A sham prince, my child, a sham prince!" "But the copies which you made for him?" "Manifestoes, proclamations, incendiary papers, a general revolt, Brittany Normandy the States-General king of Spain I have discovered all this." "You?" cried Bathilde, horrified.
The good man has only had to deal with the Prince de Listhnay." "Prince de Listhnay! Who is he?" "Rue du Bac, 110." "I do not know him." "Yes, you do, monseigneur." "Where have I seen him?" "In your antechamber." "What! this pretended Prince de Listhnay?" "Is no other than that scoundrel D'Avranches, Madame de Maine's valet-de-chambre." "Ah! I was astonished that she was not in it."
We left Buvat going up to his own room, with his papers in his hand, to fulfill his promise to the Prince de Listhnay, 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.
At last, after many alarms, he reached the library, bowed almost to the ground before 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 Listhnay, which he had brought with him, for fear the police should search his house during his absence; and finding himself in safety, heaved a sigh, which would not have failed in denouncing him to his colleagues as being a prey to the greatest agitation, if he had not, as usual, arrived the first.
It will be remembered how 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.
Then Raoul confessed to her his fears, and that the papers which the pretended Prince de Listhnay had given Buvat to copy were politically important, by which he might have been compromised and arrested, but had nothing to fear, and that the passive part which he had played in this affair did not endanger him in the least.
I wonder who this Prince de Listhnay, who has made me copy such things, is; and the young man who, under pretense of doing me a service, introduced me to such a scoundrel. 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?"
"What highness?" "His highness the prince I do not remember the name you said," replied Buvat. "Ah! the Prince de Listhnay." "Himself." "He is not highness, my dear Monsieur Buvat." "Oh! I thought all princes " "This is only 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?"
"The Prince de Listhnay, Rue du Bac, 110." "A prince, monsieur, a prince!" "Yes; a Spaniard, who is in correspondence with the 'Madrid Mercury, and sends all the news from Paris." "Oh! that is a great honor." "It will give you some trouble, however, for all the dispatches are in Spanish." "Diable!" said Buvat. "Do you know Spanish?" asked D'Harmental. "No, monsieur; I do not think so, at least."
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