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Updated: June 10, 2025
And surely, Gaston must have committed some great folly to have brought them to that pass. All this went galloping through my mind while Count Saxe was saying: "My friend, I see you are a determined rascal, and that you know the boy at least must be ransomed. So, Babache here will return with you, and ten trusty men shall carry the ten thousand crowns.
Babache, I have loved him ever since I loved you!" She said this with such an air of innocent devotion Francezka might change, but she could not cease to be Francezka; and she had this way of saying sweet things to all whom she loved.
Within the next two days we got positive confirmation of it, and, also, a letter from Francezka. It was written in a trembling hand, unlike her usual firm, clear writing. It ran thus: Count Saxe and dear, faithful Babache: My best beloved has returned to me. Come and rejoice with me. Francezka Cheverny.
She looked reproachfully at the old dog, trotting by her side. He was aged, but he had not lost his sight, or his teeth, or his native good sense, for at the charge brought against him he looked his mistress steadily in the eye, and then coolly turned off, as much as to say: "If you choose to complain of me to Captain Babache, at least I scorn to defend myself."
"I did not mean to let you slip away, Babache, without one private word with you," she cried, as I joined her. "I thought if I came out here I should probably find you. See how strong is habit.
If I had been a ready man, like François Marie Voltaire, for example, I could have replied to this kind speech with something handsome. But being only Babache, a Tatar prince from the Marais, all I could think of to say was: "Good by, Mademoiselle; may God help you." I saw them depart and my heart was heavy.
Had we but succeeded in Courland! If I could but give her glory in exchange for wealth. And Babache the kindness of her eyes those tears were for me " he got up again and walked about frantically, like your young lover. I saw he was not really very miserable, but had persuaded himself that he was.
My young cock-a-hoop and I being left facing each other on the pavement of the court, he said to me, with a terrific scowl in his handsome bright young face: "Who are you, sir?" "Babache," said I. "Captain of Uhlans in the body-guard of Count Saxe." "Well, Babache," continues my young man, twirling his snuff-box as he had probably seen some older man do, "you were infernally in my way just now."
"I could not refuse you even the most valuable thing I have; and if that day comes, I only ask that Babache may serve you as faithfully as he has served me." All of which was sweet music to my ears. At daylight next morning we were in the saddle. As we rode out of the courtyard in the pale December dawn I saw a light in Francezka's chamber.
Even when I reached the flat country of the lower Rhine, there was but little amelioration. I traveled as rapidly as I could, both night and day, but my progress was slow. My eager heart outstripped my laggard body, and it seemed to me that every hour the urgency of Francezka's call for me grew greater. I could actually hear that sweet, penetrating voice, now full of agony, crying to me, "Babache!
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