CHAPTER XXIX.
THE PRINCE DE LISTHNAY'S ACCOMPLICE.
We left Buvat going up to his own room, with his papers in his hand, tofulfill his promise to the Prince de Listhnay, and this promise was soscrupulously kept, that by seven o'clock the next evening the copy wasfinished and taken to the Rue du Bac. He then received from the sameaugust hands some more work, which he returned with the samepunctuality; so that the Prince de Listhnay, feeling confidence in a manwho had given such proofs of exactitude, gave him at once sufficientpapers to necessitate an interval of three or four days between thisinterview and the next. Buvat was delighted with this mark ofconfidence, and, on his return, set himself gayly to his work; and,although he found that he did not understand a word of Spanish, he couldnow read it fluently, and had become so accustomed to it, that he feltquite disappointed when he found among the copies one all in French. Ithad no number, and almost appeared to have slipped in by mistake; but heresolved, nevertheless, to copy it. He began with these lines:
"Confidential.
"For his Excellency Monsieur Alberoni in person.
"Nothing is more important than to make sure of the places near thePyrenees, and of the noblemen who reside in these cantons."
"In these cantons!" repeated Buvat, after having written it; then,taking a hair from his pen, he continued:
"To gain or master the garrison of Bayonne."
"What is that?" said Buvat. "Is not Bayonne a French town? Let ussee--let us see;" and he continued:
"The Marquis de P---- is governor of D----. One knows the intentions ofthat nobleman; when it is decided, it will be necessary for him totriple his expenditure, in order to attract the aristocracy: he ought toscatter rewards.
"In Normandy, Charenton is an important post. Pursue the same coursewith the governor of that town as with the Marquis of P----; gofurther--promise his officers suitable rewards.
"Do the same in all the provinces."
"Hallo!" cried Buvat, re-reading what he had just written; "what doesthis mean? It seems to me that it would be prudent to read it all beforegoing further."
"He read:
"To supply this expenditure one ought to be able to reckon on at leastthree hundred thousand francs the first month, and afterward a hundredthousand per month, paid to the day."
"Paid to the day!" murmured Buvat, breaking off. "It is evidently not byFrance that these payments are to be made, since France is so poor thatshe has not paid me my nine hundred francs' salary for five years. Letus see--let us see;" and he recommenced:
"That expenditure, which will cease at the peace, will enable hisCatholic majesty to act with certainty in case of war.
"Spain will only be an auxiliary. The army of Philip V. is in France."
"What! what! what!" cried Buvat; "and I did not even know that it hadcrossed the frontier."
"The army of Philip V. is in France. A body of about ten thousandSpaniards is more than sufficient, with the presence of the king.
"But we must be able to count on being able to seduce over at least halfof the Duc d'Orleans' army (Buvat trembled). This is the most important,and cannot be done without money. A present of one hundred thousandfrancs is necessary for each battalion or squadron.
"Twenty battalions would be two millions; with that sum one might form atrustworthy army, and destroy that of the enemy.
"It is almost certain, that the subjects most devoted to the king ofSpain will not be employed in the army which will march against him. Letthem disperse themselves through the provinces; there they will actusefully. To resupply them with a character--if they have none--it willbe necessary for his Catholic majesty to send his orders in blank, forhis minister in Paris to fill up.
"In consequence of the multiplicity of orders, it would be better if theambassador had the power to sign for the king of Spain.
"It would be well, moreover, if his majesty were to sign his orders as aFrench prince; the title is his own.
"Prepare funds for an army of thirty thousand men, whom his majesty willfind brave, skillful, and disciplined.
"This money should arrive in France at the end of May, or thecommencement of June, and be distributed directly in the capitals ofprovinces, such as Nantes, Bayonne, etc.
"Do not allow the French ambassador to leave Spain. His presence willanswer for the safety of those who declare themselves."
"Sabre de bois!" cried Buvat, rubbing his eyes; "but this is aconspiracy--a conspiracy against the person of the regent, and againstthe safety of the kingdom. Oh! oh!"
Buvat fell into profound meditation.
Indeed the position was critical. Buvat mixed up in a conspiracy--Buvatcharged with a state secret--Buvat holding in his hands, perhaps, thefate of nations: a smaller thing would have thrown him into a state ofstrange perplexity.
Thus seconds, minutes, hours flowed away, and Buvat remained on hischair, his head drooping, his eyes fixed on the floor, and perfectlystill. From time to time, however, a deep breath--like an expression ofastonishment--escaped his breast.
Ten o'clock, eleven--midnight sounded. Buvat thought that the nightwould bring him aid, and he determined to go to bed. It is needless tosay that his copying came to an end, when he saw that the original wasassuming an illegal character.
Buvat could not sleep; the poor fellow tossed from side to side, butscarcely had he shut his eyes, before he saw this horrible plan of theconspiracy written upon the wall in letters of fire. Once or twice,overcome by fatigue, he fell asleep; but he had no sooner lostconsciousness, than he dreamed, the first time that he was arrested bythe watch as a conspirator; the second that he was stabbed by theconspirators themselves. The first time Buvat awoke trembling; thesecond time bathed in perspiration. These two impressions had been soterrible, that he lighted his candle, and determined to wait for day,without another attempt to sleep.
The day came, but, far from dispelling the phantoms of the night, itonly gave a more terrific reality. At the least noise Buvat trembled.Some one knocked at the street-door. Buvat thought he should faint.Nanette opened his room door, and he uttered a cry. Nanette ran to him,and asked what was the matter, but he contented himself with shaking hishead, and answering, with a sigh--
"Ah, my poor Nanette, we live in very sad times."
He stopped directly, fearing he had said too much. He was toopreoccupied to go down to breakfast with Bathilde; besides, he fearedlest the young girl should perceive his uneasiness, and ask the cause;and as he did not know how to keep anything from her, he would have toldher all, and she would then have become his accomplice. He had hiscoffee sent up to him, under pretext of having an overwhelming amount ofwork to do, and that he was going to work during breakfast. AsBathilde's love profited by this absence, she was rather pleased at itthan otherwise.
A few minutes before ten, Buvat left for his office; his fears had beenstrong in his own house, but once in the street, they changed intoterrors. At every crossing, at the end of every court, behind everyangle, he thought that he saw the police-officers waiting for him. Atthe corner of the Place des Victoires a musketeer appeared, coming fromthe Rue Pagevin, and Buvat gave such a start on seeing him, that healmost fell under the wheels of a carriage. At last, after many alarms,he reached the library, bowed almost to the ground before the sentinel,darted up the stairs, gained his office, and falling exhausted on hisseat, he shut up in his drawer all the papers of the Prince de Listhnay,which he had brought with him, for fear the police should search hishouse during his absence; and finding himself in safety, heaved a sigh,which would not have failed in denouncing him to his colleagues as beinga prey to the greatest agitation, if he had not, as usual, arrived thefirst.
Buvat had a principle, which was, that no personal preoccupation,whether grave or gay, ought to disturb a clerk in the execution of hisduty. Therefore he set himself to his work, apparently as if nothing hadhappened, but really in a state of moral perturbation impossible todescribe.
This work consisted, as usual, in classifying an
d arranging books. Therehaving been an alarm of fire three or four days before, the books hadbeen thrown on the floor, or carried out of the reach of the flames, andthere were consequently four or five thousand volumes to be reinstatedin their proper places; and, as it was a particularly tedious business,Buvat had been selected for it, and had hitherto acquitted himself withan intelligence and assiduity which had merited the commendations of hissuperiors, and the raillery of his colleagues.
In spite of the urgency of the work, Buvat rested some minutes torecover himself; but as soon as he saw the door open, he roseinstinctively, took a pen, dipped it in the ink, took a handful ofparchment labels, and went toward the remaining books, took the firstwhich came to hand, and continued his classification, murmuring betweenhis teeth, as was his habit under similar circumstances.
"The 'Breviary of Lovers,' printed at Liege in 1712; no printer's name.Ah, mon Dieu! what amusement can Christians possibly find in readingsuch books? It would be better if they were all burned in the Place deGreve by the hand of the public hangman! Chut! What name have I beenpronouncing there! I wonder who this Prince de Listhnay, who has made mecopy such things, is; and the young man who, under pretense of doing mea service, introduced me to such a scoundrel. Come, come, this is notthe place to think about that. How pleasant it is writing on parchment;the pen glides as if over silk. What is the next?"
"Well, monsieur," said the head clerk, "and what have you been doing forthe last five minutes, with your arms crossed and your eyes fixed?"
"Nothing, M. Ducoudray, nothing. I was planning a new mode ofclassification."
"A new mode of classification! Are you turned reformer? Do you wish tocommence a revolution, M. Buvat?"
"I! a revolution!" cried Buvat, with terror. "A revolution,monsieur!--never, oh, never! Good heavens, my devotion to monseigneurthe regent is known; a disinterested devotion, since he has not paid mefor five years, as you know."
"Well, go on with your work."
Buvat continued:--"'Conspiracy of Monsieur de Cinq Mars'--diable!diable! I have heard of that. He was a gallant gentleman, who was incorrespondence with Spain; that cursed Spain. What business has it tomix itself up eternally with our affairs? It is true that this time itis said that Spain will only be an auxiliary; but an ally who takespossession of our towns, and who debauches our soldiers, appears to mevery much like an enemy. 'Conspiracy of Monsieur de Cinq-Mars, followedby a History of his Death, and that of Monsieur de Thou, condemned fornot revealing it. By an Eye-Witness.' For not revealing! It is true, nodoubt, for the law is positive. Whoever does not reveal is anaccomplice--myself, for instance. I am the accomplice of the Prince deListhnay; and if they cut off his head, they will cut off mine too. No,they will only hang me--I am not noble. Hanged!--it is impossible; theywould never go to such extremities in my case: besides, I will declareall. But then I shall be an informer: never! But then I shall behanged--oh, oh!"
"What is the matter, Buvat?" said a clerk: "you are strangling yourselfby twisting your cravat."
"I beg your pardon, gentlemen," said Buvat, "I did it mechanically; Idid not mean to offend you."
Buvat stretched out his hand for another book. "'Conspiracy of theChevalier Louis de Rohan.' Oh, I come to nothing but conspiracies! 'Copyof a Plan of Government found among the Papers of Monsieur de Rohan, andentirely written by Van der Enden.' Ah, mon Dieu! yes. That is just mycase. He was hanged for having copied a plan. Oh, I shall die!'Proces-verbal of the Torture of Francis-Affinius Van der Enden.' Ifthey read one day, at the end of the conspiracy of the Prince deListhnay, 'Proces-verbal of the Torture of Jean Buvat!'" Buvat began toread.
"Well, well, what is the matter, Buvat?" said Ducoudray, seeing the goodman shake and grow pale: "are you ill?"
"Ah, M. Ducoudray," said Buvat, dropping the book, and dragging himselfto a seat, "ah, M. Ducoudray, I feel I am going to faint."
"That comes of reading instead of working," said an employe.
"Well, Buvat, are you better?" asked Ducoudray.
"Yes, monsieur, for my resolution is taken, taken irrevocably. It wouldnot be just, by Heaven, that I should bear the punishment for a crimewhich I never committed. I owe it to society, to my ward, to myself. M.Ducoudray, if the curator asks for me, you will tell him that I am goneout on pressing business."
And Buvat drew the roll of paper from the drawer, pressed his hat on tohis head, took his stick, and went out with the majesty of despair.
"Do you know where he has gone?" asked the employe.
"No," answered Ducoudray.
"I will tell you;--to play at bowls at the Champs-Elysees, or atPorcherons."
The employe was wrong; he had neither gone to the Champs-Elysees nor toPorcherons. He had gone to Dubois.