“My dear sir, the twenty-four hours are a mere formality. Subscribe the order and give me a receipt for the lettre de cachet, and you can go at your convenience. All I ask of you is that you give me your word of honour not to go to the theatres or public places of amusement on foot.”
“I give you my word with pleasure.”
I took the chevalier to my room and gave him the necessary acknowledgment, and with the observation that he would be glad to see my brother, whom he knew already, I led him into the dining-room, and explained with a cheerful face the purport of his visit.
My brother laughed and said,—
“But, M. Buhot, this news is like March in Lent, it was quite unnecessary; my brother was going in the course of a week.”
“All the better. If the minister had been aware of that he would not have troubled himself about it.”
“Is the reason known?”
“I have heard something about a proposal to kick a gentleman, who though young, is too exalted a person to be spoken to in such a manner.”
“Why, chevalier,” said I, “the phrase is a mere formality like the twenty-four hours for if the impudent young rascal had come out he would have met me, and his sword should have been sufficient to ward off any kicks.”
I then told the whole story, and Buhot agreed that I was in the right throughout; adding that the police were also in the right to prevent any encounter between us. He advised me to go next morning and tell the tale to M. de Sartine, who knew me, and would be glad to have the account from my own lips. I said nothing, as I knew the famous superintendent of police to be a dreadful sermoniser.