"Because he had business to attend to, had that most excellent gentleman! It seems to me that we too shall do well to leave the table. It is high time to return to the office."
"To the office? what! do you intend to work to-day?"
"Why not? Come, Plumard, off we go, my boy! The air will do you good."
And Bahuchet led his comrade from the shop; but when they were in the street, as Plumard stumbled at every step instead of going forward, Bahuchet deposited him on a stone bench, and hastened back alone to the solicitor's office.
The next day, Léodgard and the little clerk arrived at the wine shop at almost the same moment. The former handed Bahuchet the note for Valentine which he had prepared; and the clerk, who had had no breakfast, promised to perform his mission adroitly.
Valentine was alone in her bedroom, buried in meditation. Her brow was stern, and the young woman's thoughts were certainly not of a frivolous description. She did not hear her maid, who had just entered the room, until she said to her:
"A young clerk is here, and wishes to know if madame will receive him. He is sent by Madame de Ravenelle. I recognize him—it is the same young man to whom madame intrusted a white plume, before her marriage; it is Monsieur Bahuchet."
"Bahuchet!" cried Valentine, in whose mind that name evoked a thousand memories. "Is that little fellow here?"
"Yes, madame."
"Admit him at once."