CHAPTER XXVII.
THE SEVENTH HEAVEN.
Bathilde made some steps backward, for she had nearly fallen intoRaoul's arms. Raoul, having shut the door, followed Bathilde into theroom. Their two names, exchanged in a double cry, escaped their lips.Their hands met in an electric clasp, and all was forgotten. These two,who had so much to say to each other, yet remained for a long timesilent; at length Bathilde exclaimed--
"Oh, Raoul, how I have suffered!"
"And I," said D'Harmental, "who have appeared to you guilty, and am yetinnocent!"
"Innocent!" cried Bathilde, to whom, by a natural reaction, all herdoubts returned.
"Yes, innocent," replied the chevalier.
And then he told Bathilde all of his life that he dared to tell her--hisduel with Lafare; how he had, after that, hidden in the Rue duTemps-Perdu; how he had seen Bathilde, and loved her; his astonishmentat discovering successively in her the elegant woman, the skillfulpainter, the accomplished musician; his joy when he began to think thatshe was not indifferent to him; then he told her how he had received, ascolonel of carabineers, the order to go to Brittany, and on his returnwas obliged to render an account of his mission to the Duchesse de Mainebefore returning to Paris. He had gone directly to Sceaux, expectingonly to leave his dispatches in passing, when he had found himself inthe midst of the fete, in which he had been obliged unwillingly to takea part. This recital was finished by expressions of regret, and suchprotestations of fidelity and love that Bathilde almost forgot thebeginning of his discourse in listening to the end.
It was now her turn. She also had a long history to tell D'Harmental; itwas the history of her life. With a certain pride in proving to herlover that she was worthy of him, she showed herself as a child with herfather and mother, then an orphan and abandoned; then appeared Buvatwith his plain face and his sublime heart, and she told all hiskindness, all his love to his pupil; she passed in review her carelesschildhood, and her pensive youth; then she arrived at the time when shefirst saw D'Harmental, and here she stopped and smiled, for she feltthat he had nothing more to learn. Yet D'Harmental insisted on hearingit all from her own lips, and would not spare her a single detail. Twohours passed thus like two seconds, and they were still there when someone rang at the door. Bathilde looked at the clock which was in thecorner of the room; it was six minutes past four; there was no mistake,it was Buvat. Bathilde's first movement was one of fear, but Raoulreassured her, smiling, for he had the pretext with which the AbbeBrigaud had furnished him. The two lovers exchanged a last grasp of thehand, then Bathilde went to open the door to her guardian, who, asusual, kissed her on the forehead, then, on entering the room, perceivedD'Harmental. Buvat was astonished; he had never before found any manwith his pupil. Buvat fixed on him his astonished eyes and waited; hefancied he had seen the young man before. D'Harmental advanced towardhim with that ease of which people of a certain class have not even anidea.
"It is to Monsieur Buvat," he said, "that I have the honor of speaking?"
"To myself, sir," said Buvat, starting at the sound of a voice which hethought he recognized; "but the honor is on my side."
"You know the Abbe Brigaud?" continued D'Harmental.
"Yes, perfectly, monsieur--the--that--the--of Madame Denis, is he not?"
"Yes," replied D'Harmental, smiling; "the confessor to Madame Denis."
"Yes, I know him. A clever man."
"Did you not once apply to him to get some copies to make?"
"Yes, monsieur, for I am a copyist, at your service."
"Well," said D'Harmental, "this dear Abbe Brigaud, who is my guardian(that you may know who you are speaking to), has found an excellentcustomer for you."
"Ah! truly; pray take a seat, monsieur."
"Thank you."
"And who is the customer?"
"The Prince de Listhnay, Rue du Bac, 110."
"A prince, monsieur, a prince!"
"Yes; a Spaniard, who is in correspondence with the 'Madrid Mercury,'and sends all the news from Paris."
"Oh! that is a great honor."
"It will give you some trouble, however, for all the dispatches are inSpanish."
"Diable!" said Buvat.
"Do you know Spanish?" asked D'Harmental.
"No, monsieur; I do not think so, at least."
"Never mind," continued the chevalier, smiling; "one need not know alanguage to copy it."
"I could copy Chinese, monsieur; caligraphy, like drawing, is animitative art."
"And I know that in this respect, Monsieur Buvat," replied D'Harmental,"you are a great artist."
"Monsieur," said Buvat, "you embarrass me. May I ask, withoutindiscretion, at what time I shall find his highness?"
"What highness?"
"His highness the prince--I do not remember the name you said," repliedBuvat.
"Ah! the Prince de Listhnay."
"Himself."
"He is not highness, my dear Monsieur Buvat."
"Oh! I thought all princes--"
"This is only a prince of the third order, and he will be quitesatisfied if you call him monseigneur."
"You think so?"
"I am sure of it."
"And when shall I find him?"
"After your dinner; from five to half-past five. You remember theaddress?"
"Yes; Rue du Bac, 110. I will be there, monsieur."
"Now," said D'Harmental, "au revoir! And you, mademoiselle," said he,turning to Bathilde, "receive my thanks for your kindness in keeping mecompany while I waited for M. Buvat--a kindness for which I shall beeternally grateful."
And D'Harmental took his leave, while Bathilde remained astonished athis ease and assurance in such a situation.
"This young man is really very amiable," said Buvat.
"Yes, very," said Bathilde, mechanically.
"But it is an extraordinary thing; I think I have seen him before."
"It is possible," said Bathilde.
"And his voice--I am sure I know his voice."
Bathilde started; for she remembered the evening when Buvat had returnedfrightened from the adventure in the Rue des Bons Enfants, andD'Harmental had not spoken of that adventure. At this moment Nanetteentered, announcing dinner. Buvat instantly went into the other room.
"Well, mademoiselle," said Nanette softly, "the handsome young man came,then, after all?"
"Yes, Nanette, yes," answered Bathilde, raising her eyes to heaven withan expression of infinite gratitude, "and I am very happy."
She passed in to the dining-room, where Buvat, who had put down his hatand stick on a chair, was waiting for her, and slapping his thighs withhis hands, as was his custom in his moments of extreme satisfaction.
As to D'Harmental, he was no less happy than Bathilde; he was loved--hewas sure of it; Bathilde had told him so, with the same pleasure she hadfelt on hearing him make the same declaration. He was loved; not by apoor orphan, not by a little grisette, but by a young girl of rank,whose father and mother had occupied an honorable position at court.There were, then, no obstacles to their union, there was no socialinterval between them. It is true that D'Harmental forgot theconspiracy, which might at any time open an abyss under his feet andengulf him. Bathilde had no doubts for the future; and when Buvat, afterdinner, took his hat and cane to go to the Prince de Listhnay's, shefirst fell on her knees to thank God, and then, without hesitation, wentto open the window so long closed. D'Harmental was still at his. Theyhad very soon settled their plans, and taken Nanette into theirconfidence. Every day, when Buvat was gone, D'Harmental was to come andstay two hours with Bathilde. The rest of the time would be passed atthe windows, or, if by chance these must be closed, they could write toeach other. Toward seven o'clock they saw Buvat turning the corner ofthe Rue Montmartre; he carried a roll of paper in one hand, and his canein the other, and by his important air, it was easy to see that he hadspoken to the prince himself. D'Harmental closed his window. Bathildehad seen Buvat set out with some uneasiness, for she feared that
thisstory of the Prince de Listhnay was only an invention to explainD'Harmental's presence. The joyous expression of Buvat's face, however,quite reassured her.
"Well!" said she.
"Well! I have seen his highness."
"But, you know," answered Bathilde, "that M. Raoul said the Prince deListhnay had no right to that title, and was only a prince of the thirdorder."
"I guarantee him of the first," said Buvat, "sabre de bois! a man offive feet ten, who throws his money about, and pays for copies atfifteen francs the page, and has given twenty-five louis in advance!"
Then another fear began to come into Bathilde's mind, that thispretended customer, whom Raoul had found for Buvat, was only a pretextto induce him to accept money. This fear had in it somethinghumiliating; Bathilde turned her eyes toward D'Harmental's window, butshe saw D'Harmental looking at her with so much love through the glass,that she thought of nothing but looking at him in return, which she didfor so long, that Buvat came forward to see what was attracting herattention; but D'Harmental, seeing him, let fall the curtain.
"Well, then," said Bathilde, wishing to turn off his attention, "you arecontent?"
"Quite; but I must tell you one thing."
"What is it?"
"You remember that I told you that I thought I recognized the face andvoice of this young man, but could not tell you where I had seen orheard them?"
"Yes, you told me so."
"Well, it suddenly struck me to-day, as I was crossing the Rue des BonsEnfants, that it was the same young man whom I saw on that terriblenight, of which I cannot think without trembling."
"What folly!" said Bathilde, trembling, however, herself.
"I was on the point of returning, however, for I thought this princemight be some brigand chief, and that they were going to entice me intoa cavern; but as I never carry any money, I thought that my fears wereexaggerated, and so I went on."
"And now you are convinced, I suppose," replied Bathilde, "that thispoor young man, who came from the Abbe Brigaud, has no connection withhim of the Rue des Bons Enfants."
"Certainly, a captain of thieves could have no connection with hishighness; and now," continued Buvat, "you must excuse me if I do notstay with you this evening. I promised his highness to begin the copiesdirectly, and I must do so." Buvat went into his room, leaving Bathildefree to resume the interrupted conversation. Heaven only knows at whathour the windows were closed.