third time. He raised his eyes to heaven,
heaved a profound sigh, and set out for the Palais Royal.

The moment was unlucky. Dubois, who had been constantly on his feet for
four or five days, suffered horribly from the malady which was to cause
his death in a few months; moreover, he was beyond measure annoyed that
only D'Harmental had been taken, and had just given orders to Leblanc
and D'Argenson to press on the trial with all possible speed, when his
valet-de-chambre, who was accustomed to see the worthy writer arrive
every morning, announced M. Buvat.

"And who the devil is M. Buvat?"

"It is I, monseigneur," said the poor fellow, venturing to slip between
the valet and the door, and bowing his honest head before the prime
minister.

"Well, who are you?" asked Dubois, as if he had never seen him before.

"What, monseigneur!" exclaimed the astonished Buvat; "do you not
recognize me? I come to congratulate you on the discovery of the
conspiracy."

"I get congratulations enough of that kind--thanks for yours, M. Buvat,"
said Dubois, quietly.

"But, monseigneur, I come also to ask a favor."

"A favor! and on what grounds?"

"Monseigneur," stammered Buvat, "but--monseigneur--do you not remember
that you promised me a--a recompense?"

"A recompense to you, you double idiot."

"What! monseigneur," continued poor Buvat, getting more and more
frightened, "do you not recollect that you told me, here, in this very
room, that I had my fortune at my fingers' ends?"

"And now," said Dubois, "I tell you that you have your life in your
legs, for unless you decamp pretty quick--"

"But, monseigneur--"

"Ah! you reason with me, scoundrel," shouted Dubois, raising himself
with one hand on the arm of his chair, and the other on his archbishop's
crook, "wait, then, you shall see--"

Buvat had seen quite enough; at the threatening gesture of the premier
he understood what was to follow, and turning round, he fled at full
speed; but, quick as he was, he had still time to hear Dubois--with the
most horrible oaths and curses--order his valet to beat him to death if
ever again he put his foot inside the door of the Palais Royal.

Buvat understood that there was no hope in that direction, and that, not
only must he renounce the idea of being of service to D'Harmental, but
also of the payment of his arrears, in which he had fondly trusted. This
chain of thought naturally reminded him that for eight days he had not
been to