there?"

"First of all," said the abbe, "nothing is impossible; remember that,
before you deny or undertake anything. Believe that everything is
possible; it is the way to succeed in everything."

"But Bathilde?"

"Yes, does it not appear strange at first? Well, nothing is more simple.
But it does not interest you, chevalier; let us talk of something else."

"Yes, yes, abbe; you are strangely mistaken--I am deeply interested."

"Well, my dear pupil, since you are so curious, this is the whole
affair. The Abbe Chaulieu knows Mademoiselle Bathilde; is not that your
neighbor's name?"

"Yes. How does the Abbe Chaulieu know her?"

"Oh! it is very simple. The guardian of this charming child is, as you
know, or do not know, one of the best writers and copyists in the
capital. The Abbe Chaulieu wants some one to copy his poetry, since,
being blind, he is obliged to dictate in the first instance to a little
lackey who cannot spell, and he has confided this important task to
Buvat. By this means he has become acquainted with Mademoiselle
Bathilde."

"But all this does not explain how Mademoiselle Bathilde came to
Sceaux."

"Stop; every history has its commencement, its middle, and its
termination."

"Abbe, you will make me swear."

"Patience, patience."

"Go on; I listen to you."

"Well, having made Mademoiselle Bathilde's acquaintance, the Abbe
Chaulieu, like the rest, has felt the influence of her charms, for there
is a species of magic attached to the young person in question; no one
can see her without loving her."

"I know it," murmured D'Harmental.

"Then, as Mademoiselle Bathilde is full of talent, and not only sings
like a nightingale, but draws like an angel, Chaulieu spoke of her so
enthusiastically to Mademoiselle de Launay that she thought of employing
her for the costumes of the different personages in the fete."

"This does not tell me that it was Bathilde and not Mademoiselle Berry
who sang lost night."

"We are coming to it."

"Well?"

"It happened that Mademoiselle de Launay, like the rest of the world,
took a violent fancy to the little witch. Instead of sending her away
after the costumes were finished, she kept her three days at Sceaux. She
was still there the day before yesterday, closeted with Mademoiselle de
Launay, when some one entered with a bewildered air to announce that the
director of the opera wished to speak to her on a matter of importance.
Mademoiselle de Launay went o