"Your trunks are full. Had I not your measure? You will not be discontented with my tailor."
"But at least, abbe, tell me when I may return."
"In six weeks to a day, the Duchesse de Maine will expect you at Sceaux."
"But at least you will permit me to write a couple of lines."
"Well, I will not be too exacting."
The chevalier sat down and wrote:
"Dear Bathilde—To-day it is more than a danger which threatens me; it is a misfortune which overtakes me. I am forced to leave this instant, without seeing you, without bidding you adieu. I shall be six weeks absent. In the name of Heaven, Bathilde, do not forget him who will not pass an hour without thinking of you.
Raoul."
This letter written, folded, and sealed, the chevalier rose and went to the window; but as we have said, that of his neighbor was closed when Brigaud appeared. There was then no means of sending to Bathilde the dispatch destined for her. D'Harmental made an impatient gesture. At this moment they heard a scratching at the door. The abbe opened it, and Mirza appeared, guided by her instinct, and her greediness, to the giver of the bon-bons, and making lively demonstrations of joy.
"Well," said Brigaud, "who shall say God is not good to lovers? You wanted a messenger, and here is one."