"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?"
"From the Palais Royal."
"What! from the Palais Royal; and with whom were you stopping at the Palais Royal?"
"The regent."
"You with the regent! and what about?"