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When I had finished, she said to me in a steady voice: "And you say, Babache, there is not the smallest evidence that my husband is dead?" "Not the least, Madame. Not a handkerchief belonging to him has been found. There is a boom at the narrowest part of the river, below Hüningen, which would stop the body of a ferret, much less a man's, and nothing has been found there."
It may be that Mademoiselle Capello, who had a combination of Scotch and Spanish pride, won me with the most delicate flattery in the world by honoring me with her regard and Babache, the Tatar, was often smiled on, when dukes and marquises were scowled at, terribly.
Francezka seated herself in her old pensive attitude, her cheek upon her hand, and there was a long silence, broken only by the dropping of the embers, and occasionally a faint cry from afar. The hunting party had returned, and the chase was proceeding merrily in the great corridors below. "Babache," she said presently. "One of the chief joys of love is the living over of past delights.
Also, that if the Academy elected him, it should also elect Marshal Villars, who could neither read nor write; but that I, Babache, was better fitted for an Academician than either. It is certain, however, that no lady ever refused to accept a love letter from Count Saxe because it was ill spelled and ill written for that part of his correspondence he attended to strictly himself.
I had only been away from him thirty-six hours, but when I presented myself before him he clasped me in his arms and cried: "Babache, I am nine times as glad to see you as the Duke of Berwick was to see me, the time he told me he would rather see me than the reinforcement of three thousand men he had asked for!" Was it strange I loved this man?
She asked me to give you her thanks and her remembrance." "It is enough," said I; "if I can but always merit her thanks and her remembrance I shall be satisfied. It is for men placed like you to aspire for more." "Babache," he cried, "you are an honest fellow, and I am glad you made that hole in me, if it won me your friendship." "I did not wish to make a hole in you," I replied.
And was not Bold the only living thing, except yourself, who gave me any comfort in these last seven years? Really, Babache, I can not love you any longer, if you say such things." It was a trifle, but I saw that the indifference between Bold and his master troubled her.
"That is why I turn to you with so much confidence, Babache. You alone of the whole wide world, as I know it, can I call my friend, without any admixture of love or flattery. You alone ever found fault with me, or told me my way was not a reasonable way." "But I can not now recall ever having dared to find fault with you, Mademoiselle," I said, cudgeling my brains.
Oh, Babache, if Francezka Capello should exchange her dower for the smallpox, it would make no difference to me " and he quoted to me that sonnet of Master William Shakespeare's, in which the poet makes it clear that true love is not Time's fool. We started next morning, in beautiful summer weather, which lasted us until we reached Radewitz.
But I know he is under orders for England, and I will tickle him with a bunch of brambles by telling him that I shall mention to Cardinal Fleury that I saw him. Babache, I swear I am a little afraid of that thing of madrigals, as I call Voltaire. Those fellows who can write can always make out a case for themselves.
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