ented arms, and allowed him to pass.

Buvat thought he should faint, he felt his legs fail him, and leaned
against a wall.

"What is the matter, monsieur?" asked his guide.

"Pardon, monsieur," murmured Buvat, "but who is the person to whom I
have just had the honor of speaking?"

"Monseigneur the Regent in person."

"Not possible!"

"Not only possible, but true."

"What! it was the regent himself who promised to pay me my arrears?"

"I do not know what he promised you, but I know that the person who gave
me the order to accompany you was the regent."

"But he told me he was called Philippe."

"Well, he is--Philippe d'Orleans."

"That is true, monsieur, that is true, Philippe is his Christian name.
The regent is a brave man, and when I remember that there exist
scoundrels who conspire against him--against a man who has promised to
pay me my arrears--but they deserve to be hanged, all of them, to be
broken on the wheel, drawn and quartered, burned alive; do not you think
so, monsieur?"

"Monsieur," said Ravanne, laughing, "I have no opinion on matters of
such importance. We are at the gate; I should be happy to accompany you
further, but monseigneur leaves in half an hour for the Abbey of
Chelles, and, as he has some orders to give me before his departure, I
am--to my great regret--obliged to quit you."

"All the regret is on my side, monsieur," said Buvat, graciously, and
answering by a profound bow to the slight nod of the young man, who,
when Buvat raised his head, had already disappeared. This departure left
Buvat perfectly free in his movements, and he profited thereby to take
his way down the Place des Victoires toward the Rue du Temps-Perdu,
round the corner of which he turned at the very moment when D'Harmental
ran his sword through the body of Roquefinette. It was at this moment
that poor Bathilde--who was far from suspecting what was passing in her
neighbor's room--had seen her guardian, and had rushed to meet him on
the stairs, where Buvat and she had met at the third flight.

"Oh, my dear, dear father," cried Bathilde, remounting the staircase in
Buvat's arms, and stopping to embrace him at every step, "where have you
been? What has happened? How is it that we have not seen you since
Monday? What uneasiness you have caused us, mon Dieu! But something
extraordinary must have occurred."

"Yes, most extraordinary," answered Buvat.

"Ah, mon Dieu! tell then me, first, where do you come from?"