And Buvat, after having embraced Bathilde, returned home, for he would not tell his poor child that he had lost his place, and the young girl was left alone.
Then she breathed more freely now that she was tranquil; Boniface, in his quality of clerk to the procureur at Chatelet, was in the very place to know everything, and Bathilde was sure that Boniface would tell her everything. Indeed, from that time she knew all: that Raoul had been interrogated, and that he had taken everything on himself; then the day following she learned that he had been confronted with Laval, Valef, and Pompadour, but that interview had produced nothing. Faithful to his promise, Boniface every evening brought her the day's news, and every evening Bathilde, at this recital, alarming as it was, felt inspired with new resolution. A fortnight passed thus, at the end of which time Bathilde began to get up and walk a little about the room, to the great joy of Buvat, Nanette, and the whole Denis family.
One day Boniface, contrary to his usual habit, returned home from Joullu's at three o'clock, and entered the room of the sufferer. The poor boy was so pale and so cast down, that Bathilde understood that he brought some terrible information, and giving a cry, she rose upright, with her eyes fixed on him.
"All is finished, then?" asked Bathilde.
"Alas!" answered Boniface, "it is all through his own obstinacy. They offered him pardon—do you understand, Mademoiselle Bathilde?—his pardon if he would—and he would not speak a word."
"Then," cried Bathilde, "no more hope; he is condemned."
"This morning, Mademoiselle Bathilde, this morning."
"To death?"
Boniface bowed his head.
"And when is he to be executed?"