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Updated: May 16, 2025
Bathilde was very much embarrassed; she had seen, at the first glance, that the paper contained three or four lines of writing; but, in spite of the sudden friendship which her neighbor seemed to have acquired for Mirza, it was evidently not to Mirza that he was writing letters it must, therefore, be to her. What should she do? Go and tear it up?
This apparition, so conformable to the idea which D'Harmental 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 perfect harmony with their position and education, why was Bathilde, who seemed their equal in rank, as visibly distinguished as they were vulgar?
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 could write to each other.
M. 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.
A week after, as M. Boniface, to revenge himself on Bathilde, was teasing Mirza, who was standing in the doorway, not thinking it fine enough to trust her little white feet out of doors, Mirza, whom the habit of being fed had made very petulant, darted out on M. Boniface, and bit him cruelly in the calf.
"But if I beg you, my friend, my brother," 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?"
While these terrible events were going forward 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 reflection immediately recalled both her former and present fears.
"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 Berry; "but " "But what, madame?" "He will not, perhaps " "I will beg him so that he will take pity on me," said Bathilde; "besides, you will speak a word for me, will you not?
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; but what she had particularly remarked was the extraordinary animation visible on the face of the young man.
"Nanette," said Bathilde, "if he comes, I forbid you to admit him; do you hear?" "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." Nanette went out.
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