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It will be understood that the happy disposition in which Buvat now was became more blissful under the influence of a good dinner.
Cloud, where she gave herself up entirely to the education of her little Clarice. It was in the journeys of the Duc de Chartres to St. Cloud that Du Rocher made acquaintance with this young girl, whom, as we have said, he married in 1697. It was, then, these young people who occupied the first floor of the house of which Buvat had the attic.
Bathilde at the Saint Lazare?" murmured Buvat between his teeth, "Sabre de bois! 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 bring a copy here every evening."
This time the artist was not deceived; 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 time passed in greater ease than she had known even in her husband's lifetime, had the satisfaction of dying perfectly secure about her son's future.
"Well, gossip," whispered she, for in spite of his caution she could not restrain her curiosity; "where is your writer?" "There he is," said Dubois, showing Buvat, who, leaning over his paper, was working away industriously. "What is he doing?" "Guess." "How should I know?" "Then you want me to tell you?" "Yes." "Well, he is making my cardinal's hat."
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 it would restore Bathilde to health.
He went upstairs and opened the door without Bathilde having heard him. She was drawing; she had already begun another head, and 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,
"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 existence is in the hands of God, He only can decide whether I shall live or die." Buvat understood nothing of all this but the kiss, and having inquired of Madame Denis how the chevalier had been dressed he set out on his quest.
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, and, with his usual sacrifice of self, he told Bathilde that she was right that he felt that sleep would do him good lit his candle kissed her forehead and went up to his own room; not without stopping two or three times on the staircase to hear if there was any noise.
Buvat had put Bathilde in the best room; he kept the other for himself, and put Nanette in the little closet. This Nanette was a good woman, who cooked passably, and knitted and netted splendidly.
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