CHAPTER XXX.
THE FOX AND THE GOOSE.
"M. Jean Buvat," said the usher. Dubois stretched out his viper's head,darted a look at the opening which was left between the usher and thedoor, and, behind the official introducer, perceived a little fat man,pale, and whose legs shook under him, and who coughed to give himselfassurance. A glance sufficed to inform Dubois the sort of person he hadto deal with.
"Let him come in," said Dubois.
The usher went out, and Jean Buvat appeared at the door.
"Come in, come in," said Dubois.
"You do me honor, monsieur," murmured Buvat, without moving from hisplace.
"Shut the door, and leave us," said Dubois to the usher.
The usher obeyed, and the door striking the posterior part of Buvat,made him bound a little way forward. Buvat, shaken for an instant,steadied himself on his legs, and became once more immovable, looking atDubois with an astounded expression.
In truth, Dubois was a curious sight. Of his episcopal costume he hadretained the inferior part; so that he was in his shirt, with blackbreeches and violet stockings. This disagreed with all Buvat'spreconceived notions. What he had before his eyes was neither a ministernor an archbishop, but seemed much more like an orang-outang than a man.
"Well, monsieur," said Dubois, sitting down and crossing his legs, andtaking his foot in his hand, "you have asked to speak to me. Here I am."
"That is to say," said Buvat, "I asked to speak to Monseigneur theArchbishop of Cambray."
"Well, I am he."
"How! you, monseigneur?" cried Buvat, taking his hat in both hands, andbowing almost to the ground: "excuse me, but I did not recognize youreminence. It is true that this is the first time I have had the honor ofseeing you. Still--hum! at that air of majesty--hum, hum--I ought tohave understood--"
"Your name?" asked Dubois, interrupting the good man's compliments.
"Jean Buvat, at your service."
"You are--?"
"An employe at the library."
"And you have some revelations to make to me concerning Spain?"
"That is to say, monseigneur--This is how it is. As my office workleaves me six hours in the evening and four in the morning, and asHeaven has blessed me with a very good handwriting, I make copies."
"Yes, I understand," said Dubois; "and some one has given you suspiciouspapers to copy, so you have brought these suspicious papers to me, haveyou not?"
"In this roll, monseigneur, in this roll," said Buvat, extending ittoward Dubois.
Dubois made a single bound from his chair to Buvat, took the roll, andsat down at a desk, and in a turn of the hand, having torn off thestring and the wrapper, found the papers in question. The first on whichhe lighted were in Spanish; but as Dubois had been sent twice to Spain,and knew something of the language of Calderon and Lopez de Vega, he sawat the first glance how important these papers were. Indeed, they wereneither more nor less than the protestation of the nobility, the list ofofficers who requested commissions under the king of Spain, and themanifesto prepared by the Cardinal de Polignac and the Marquis dePompadour to rouse the kingdom. These different documents were addresseddirectly to Philip V.; and a little note--which Dubois recognized asCellamare's hand writing--announced that the denouement of theconspiracy was near at hand; he informed his Catholic majesty, from dayto day, of all the important events which could advance or retard thescheme. Then came, finally, that famous plan of the conspirators whichwe have already given to our readers, and which--left by an oversightamong the papers which had been translated into Spanish--had openedBuvat's eyes. Near the plan, in the good man's best writing, was thecopy which he had begun to make, and which was broken off at the words,"Act thus in all the provinces."
Buvat had followed all the working of Dubois's face with a certainanxiety; he had seen it pass from astonishment to joy, then from joy toimpassibility. Dubois, as he continued to read, had passed,successively, one leg over the other, had bitten his lips, pinched theend of his nose, but all had been utterly untranslatable to Buvat, andat the end of the reading he understood no more from the face of thearchbishop than he had understood at the end of the copy from theSpanish original. As to Dubois, he saw that this man had come to furnishhim with the beginning of a most important secret, and he was meditatingon the best means of making him furnish the end also. This was thesignification of the crossed legs, the bitten lips, and the pinchednose. At last he appeared to have taken his resolution. A charmingbenevolence overspread his countenance, and turning toward the good man,who had remained standing respectfully--
"Take a seat, my dear M. Buvat," said he.
"Thank you, monseigneur," answered Buvat, trembling; "I am notfatigued."
"Pardon, pardon," said Dubois, "but your legs shake."
Indeed, since he had read the proces-verbal of the question of Van derEnden, Buvat had retained in his legs a nervous trembling, like thatwhich may be observed in dogs that have just had the distemper.
"The fact is, monseigneur," said Buvat, "that I do not know what hascome to me the last two hours, but I find a great difficulty instanding upright."
"Sit down, then, and let us talk like two friends."
Buvat looked at Dubois with an air of stupefaction, which, at any othertime, would have had the effect of making him burst out laughing, butnow he did not seem to notice it, and taking a chair himself, herepeated with his hand the invitation which he had given with his voice.There was no means of drawing back; the good man approached trembling,and sat down on the edge of his chair; put his hat on the ground, tookhis cane between his legs, and waited. All this, however, was notexecuted without a violent internal struggle as his face testified,which, from being white as a lily when he came in, had now become as redas a peony.
"My dear M. Buvat, you say that you make copies?"
"Yes, monseigneur."
"And that brings you in--?"
"Very little, monseigneur, very little."
"You have, nevertheless, a superb handwriting, M. Buvat."
"Yes, but all the world does not appreciate the value of that talent asyour eminence does."
"That is true, but you are employed at the library?"----"I have thathonor."
"And your place brings you--?"
"Oh, my place--that is another thing, monseigneur; it brings me innothing at all, seeing that for five years the cashier has told us atthe end of each month that the king was too poor to pay us."
"And you still remained in the service of his majesty? that was welldone, M. Buvat; that was well done."
Buvat rose, saluted Dubois, and reseated himself.
"And, perhaps, all the while you have a family to support--a wife,children?"
"No, monseigneur; I am a bachelor."
"But you have parents, at all events?"
"No, monseigneur; but I have a ward, a charming young person, full oftalent, who sings like Mademoiselle Berry, and who draws like Greuze."
"Ah, ah! and what is the name of your ward, M. Buvat?"
"Bathilde--Bathilde du Rocher, monseigneur; she is a young person ofnoble family, her father was squire to Monsieur the Regent, when he wasstill Duc de Chartres, and had the misfortune to be killed at the battleof Almanza."
"Thus I see you have your charges, my dear Buvat."
"Is it of Bathilde that you speak, monseigneur? Oh no, Bathilde is not acharge; on the contrary, poor dear girl, she brings in more than shecosts. Bathilde a charge! Firstly, every month M. Papillon, the colormanat the corner of the Rue Clery, you know, monseigneur, gives her eightyfrancs for two drawings; then--"
"I should say, my dear Buvat, that you are not rich."
"Oh! rich, no, monseigneur, I am not, but I wish I was, for poorBathilde's sake; and if you could obtain from monseigneur, that out ofthe first money which comes into the State coffers he would pay me myarrears, or at least something on account--"
"And to how much do your arrears amount?"
"To four thousand seven hundred francs,
two sous, and eight centimes,monseigneur."
"Is that all?" said Dubois.
"How! is that all, monseigneur?"
"Yes, that is nothing."
"Indeed, monseigneur, it is a great deal, and the proof is that the kingcannot pay it."
"But that will not make you rich."
"It will make me comfortable, and I do not conceal from you,monseigneur, that if, from the first money which comes into thetreasury--"
"My dear Buvat," said Dubois, "I have something better than that tooffer you."
"Offer it, monseigneur."
"You have your fortune at your fingers' ends."
"My mother always told me so, monseigneur."
"That proves," said Dubois, "what a sensible woman your mother was."
"Well, monseigneur! I am ready; what must I do?"
"Ah! mon Dieu! the thing is very simple, you will make me, now, andhere, copies of all these."
"But, monseigneur--"
"That is not all, my dear Monsieur Buvat. You will take back to theperson who gave you these papers, the copies and the originals, you willtake all that that person gives you; you will bring them to me directly,so that I may read them, then you will do the same with other papers aswith these, and so on indefinitely, till I say enough."
"But, monseigneur, it seems to me that in acting thus I should betraythe confidence of the prince."
"Ah! it is with a prince that you have business, Monsieur Buvat! andwhat may this prince be called?"
"Oh, monseigneur, it appears to me that in telling you his name Idenounce--"
"Well, and what have you come here for, then?"
"Monseigneur, I have come here to inform you of the danger which hishighness runs, that is all."
"Indeed," said Dubois, in a bantering tone, "and you imagine you aregoing to stop there?"
"I wish to do so, monseigneur."
"There is only one misfortune, that it is impossible, my dear MonsieurBuvat."
"Why impossible?"
"Entirely."
"Monseigneur, I am an honest man."
"M. Buvat, you are a fool."
"Monseigneur, I still wish to keep silence."
"My dear monsieur, you will speak."
"And if I speak I shall be the informer against the prince."
"If you do not speak you are his accomplice."
"His accomplice, monseigneur! and of what crime?"
"Of the crime of high treason. Ah! the police have had their eyes on youthis long time, M. Buvat!"
"On me, monseigneur?"
"Yes, on you; under the pretext that they do not pay you your salary,you entertain seditious proposals against the State."
"Oh! monseigneur, how can they say so?"
"Under the pretext of their not paying you your salary, you have beenmaking copies of incendiary documents for the last four days."
"Monseigneur, I only found it out yesterday; I do not understandSpanish."
"You do understand it, monsieur?"
"I swear, monseigneur."
"I tell you you do understand it, and the proof is that there is not amistake in your copies. But that is not all."
"How, not all?"
"No, that is not all. Is this Spanish? Look, monsieur," and he read:
"'Nothing is more important than to make sure of the places in theneighborhood of the Pyrenees, and the noblemen who reside in thecantons.'"
"But, monseigneur, it was just by that that I made the discovery."
"M. Buvat, they have sent men to the galleys for less than you havedone."
"Monseigneur!"
"M. Buvat, men have been hanged who were less guilty than you."
"Monseigneur! monseigneur!"
"M. Buvat, they have been broken on the wheel."
"Mercy, monseigneur, mercy!"
"Mercy to a criminal like you, M. Buvat! I shall send you to theBastille, and Mademoiselle Bathilde to Saint Lazare."
"To Saint Lazare! Bathilde at Saint Lazare, monseigneur! Bathilde atSaint Lazare! and who has the right to do that?"----"I, M. Buvat."
"No, monseigneur, you have not the right!" cried Buvat, who could fearand suffer everything for himself, but who, at the thought of suchinfamy, from a worm became a serpent. "Bathilde is not a daughter of thepeople, monseigneur! Bathilde is a lady of noble birth, the daughter ofa man who saved the life of the regent, and when I represent to hishighness--"
"You will go first to the Bastille, M. Buvat," said Dubois, pulling thebell so as nearly to break it, "and then we shall see about MademoiselleBathilde."
"Monseigneur, what are you doing?"
"You will see." (The usher entered.) "An officer of police, and acarriage."
"Monseigneur!" cried Buvat, "all that you wish--"
"Do as I have bid you," said Dubois.
The usher went out.
"Monseigneur!" said Buvat, joining his hands; "monseigneur, I willobey."
"No, M. Buvat. Ah! you wish a trial, you shall have one. You want arope, you shall not be disappointed."
"Monseigneur," cried Buvat, falling on his knees, "what must I do?"
"Hang, hang, hang!" continued Dubois.
"Monseigneur," said the usher, returning, "the carriage is at the door,and the officer in the anteroom."
"Monseigneur," said Buvat, twisting his little legs, and tearing out thefew yellow hairs which he had left, "monseigneur, will you be pitiless!"
"Ah! you will not tell me the name of the prince?"
"It is the Prince de Listhnay, monseigneur."
"Ah! you will not tell me his address?"
"He lives at No. 110, Rue du Bac, monseigneur."
"You will not make me copies of those papers?"
"I will do it, I will do it this instant," said Buvat; and he went andsat down before the desk, took a pen, dipped it in the ink, and takingsome paper, began the first page with a superb capital. "I will do it, Iwill do it, monseigneur; only you will allow me to write to Bathildethat I shall not be home to dinner. Bathilde at the Saint Lazare?"murmured Buvat between his teeth, "Sabre de bois! he would have done ashe said."
"Yes, monsieur, I would have done that, and more too, for the safety ofthe State, as you will find out to your cost, if you do not return thesepapers, and if you do not take the others, and if you do not bring acopy here every evening."
"But, monseigneur," cried Buvat, in despair, "I cannot then go to myoffice."
"Well then, do not go to your office."
"Not go to my office! but I have not missed a day for twelve years,monseigneur."
"Well, I give you a month's leave."
"But I shall lose my place, monseigneur."
"What will that matter to you, since they do not pay you?"
"But the honor of being a public functionary, monseigneur; and,moreover, I love my books, I love my table, I love my hair seat," criedBuvat, ready to cry; "and to think that I shall lose it all!"
"Well, then, if you wish to keep your books, your table, and your chair,I should advise you to obey me."
"Have I not already put myself at your service?"
"Then you will do what I wish?"
"Everything."
"Without breathing a word to any one?"
"I will be dumb."
"Not even to Mademoiselle Bathilde?"
"To her less than any one, monseigneur."
"That is well. On that condition I pardon you."
"Oh, monseigneur!"
"I shall forget your fault."
"Monseigneur is too good."
"And, perhaps, I will even reward you."
"Oh, monseigneur, what magnanimity!"
"Well, well, set to work."
"I am ready, monseigneur. I am ready."
And Buvat began to write in his most flowing hand, and never moving hiseyes, except from the original to the copy, and staying from time totime to wipe his forehead, which was covered with perspiration. Duboisprofited by his industry to open the closet for La Fillon, and signingto her to be s
ilent, he led her toward the door.
"Well, gossip," whispered she, for in spite of his caution she could notrestrain 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."
La Fillon uttered such an exclamation of surprise that Buvat started andturned round; but Dubois had already pushed her out of the room, againrecommending her to send him daily news of the captain.
But the reader will ask what Bathilde and D'Harmental were doing allthis time. Nothing--they were happy.