am sure I know his voice."

Bathilde started; for she remembered the evening when Buvat had returned
frightened from the adventure in the Rue des Bons Enfants, and
D'Harmental had not spoken of that adventure. At this moment Nanette
entered, 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 with
an expression of infinite gratitude, "and I am very happy."

She passed in to the dining-room, where Buvat, who had put down his hat
and stick on a chair, was waiting for her, and slapping his thighs with
his 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--he
was sure of it; Bathilde had told him so, with the same pleasure she had
felt on hearing him make the same declaration. He was loved; not by a
poor 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 social
interval between them. It is true that D'Harmental forgot the
conspiracy, which might at any time open an abyss under his feet and
engulf him. Bathilde had no doubts for the future; and when Buvat, after
dinner, took his hat and cane to go to the Prince de Listhnay's, she
first fell on her knees to thank God, and then, without hesitation, went
to open the window so long closed. D'Harmental was still at his. They
had very soon settled their plans, and taken Nanette into their
confidence. Every day, when Buvat was gone, D'Harmental was to come and
stay two hours with Bathilde. The rest of the time would be passed at
the windows, or, if by chance these must be closed, they could write to
each other. Toward seven o'clock they saw Buvat turning the corner of
the Rue Montmartre; he carried a roll of paper in one hand, and his cane
in the other, and by his important air, it was easy to see that he had
spoken to the prince himself. D'Harmental closed his window. Bathilde
had seen Buvat set out with some uneasiness, for she feared that this
story of the Prince de Listhnay was only an invention to explain
D'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 Bathi