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Updated: June 3, 2025
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 be together; and what else 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.
"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."
"What! what! what!" cried Buvat; "and I did not even know that it had crossed the frontier." "The army of Philip V. is in France. A body of about ten thousand Spaniards is more than sufficient, with the presence of the king. This is the most important, and cannot be done without money. A present of one hundred thousand francs is necessary for each battalion or squadron.
Buvat went home, and found Bathilde very uneasy; he was half an hour late, which had not happened before for ten years. The uneasiness of the young girl was doubled 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 dear friend.
"All the regret is on my side, monsieur," said Buvat, graciously, and answering by a profound bow to the slight nod of the young man, who, when Buvat raised his head, had already disappeared.
Buvat had seen quite enough; at the threatening gesture of the premier he understood what was to follow, and turning round, he 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.
"No, my child, on the contrary." "Why, father, you are crying, and yet you see that I am better!" "I cry!" said Buvat, wiping his eyes with his handkerchief. "I, crying! If I am crying, it is only joy. Yes, I am going, my child to my office I am going."
"No, monsieur, no," said Buvat, 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.
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 fluently, and had become so accustomed to it, that he felt quite disappointed when he found among the copies one all in French.
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 a conspirator; the second that he was stabbed by the conspirators themselves. The first time Buvat awoke trembling; the second time bathed in perspiration.
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