Chapter XLIII: Another Thrashing

Léodgard was but partially satisfied with the result of his message. The marchioness had smiled, and had placed the letter over her heart. To be sure, that did not indicate that she was annoyed with him who had written it; but it advanced his love affair very little.

"And now you have no excuse for going again to the marchioness's, have you?" the count asked his messenger.

Whereupon the little clerk drew himself up, placed his hand proudly on his hip, and replied with a self-satisfied air:

"We always have one, monseigneur; we are never at a loss for expedients, God be praised! This time we told the lady to omit one of her names when she signed the deed. That will suffice to require us to return for the rectification of that error.--Ha! ha! that was not bad!--But if we had not that pretext, we would invent a thousand others."

"Very good! I see that you are a sharp-witted youth."

"I dare to flatter myself that I am, seigneur."

"Take this money, and come again to this same wine shop four days hence; I will then give you another letter for the marchioness."

"Agreed, monsieur le comte; and be sure that on that day I will arrange still another pretext for returning to the house."

Four days later, Bahuchet, having concealed beneath his doublet a second letter from Léodgard, and holding in his hand a large roll of paper covered with another roll of parchment, containing the deed of transfer which he expected would make many trips from the solicitor's office to the Hôtel de Santoval, presented himself again at the latter place and asked to speak with madame la marquise.

He was admitted without difficulty. This time Valentine was alone in her room. When she saw the little clerk come in, parchment in hand, she could not help smiling.

Bahuchet unrolled his parchment and said aloud:

"The last time that I had the honor to see madame la marquise, when she signed this document she omitted one of her baptismal names; that omission might, at some later time, give rise to discussion, to demands for birth certificates; it might even result in making void the conveyance which you wish to effect."

"Oh! it is quite possible, monsieur; I am very absent-minded."

Bahuchet, having walked to Valentine's side, produced the note which was in his doublet and handed it to her with the document. The young woman gave the preference to the love letter. She opened and read it, and found therein renewed protestations of an everlasting passion, and the same request for a rendezvous, at which the writer could express with his voice the love that he felt for her.

Having read the letter, Valentine hastily concealed it in her alms purse; then she said in an undertone to the young clerk, who questioned her with his eyes:

"You will say that I am too closely watched at this moment. He must wait."--Then she continued, speaking aloud: "Where shall I write the name that I forgot, monsieur? I know nothing about your documents."

"Here, madame, if you please; then make a flourish under the word inserted.--Omit one letter of the name," Bahuchet added, in an undertone; "that will furnish me with a reason for coming again."

Valentine did what the little clerk suggested; whereupon he once more rolled up the deed, carefully covered it with the parchment, and, bowing low to the marchioness, left the house without seeing the Marquis de Santoval.

He hastened to join Léodgard, to whom he repeated the verbal reply that had been given him. The count stamped his foot impatiently, muttering:

"Wait!--Ah! then she does not share my love! And not to condescend to write me a word! not to send me the slightest pledge, the veriest trifle!--Can you go to the Hôtel de Santoval again?" he said to the little clerk.

"Oh! yes, seigneur; I have arranged a little _plea in bar_--it is such a simple matter in our profession! And the next time I will find another."

"In that case, return in a fortnight; that is a long time! but since she will have it so--I will tell you then what you must do."

Bahuchet, having been handsomely paid once more, promised to be exact; and he returned to his office, oblivious of the fact that he had been followed on leaving the Hôtel de Santoval, and continued to be till he had entered the office door.

The fortnight having passed, Bahuchet met Léodgard again at their usual place of rendezvous.

"Go to the marchioness," said the count; "as my letters have obtained no reply, you will not carry one this time; but you will say to her that I entreat her to give you a word for me; add that, if she denies me this favor, I am capable of committing the most imprudent acts in order to see her.--Go--I will await your return; and I will double the usual sum if you bring me a note from the marchioness."

"By Plumard's scalp!" said Bahuchet to himself, as he walked toward the Hôtel de Santoval; "the lovely marchioness simply must write a few words! I will grovel at her feet to obtain them.--Vertuchoux! this is a right good trade! I am feathering my nest!--Let things go on like this for a few months, and I shall have enough to set up for myself!--I will keep a tavern adjoining the law courts; that is more amusing than pettifogging.--Here is my charmer's house; I have my deed, I am all armed--I will present myself boldly!"

Bahuchet knocked at the gate, which was opened to admit him, then suddenly closed behind him. He smiled affably to the concierge, saying:

"I have come to request the honor of speaking with Madame la Marquise de Santoval on business, from my employer's office."

And he was about to walk toward the vestibule leading to the main staircase, when four servants suddenly appeared, lifted him up, carried him to the carriage house, and there thrashed him mercilessly with cudgels and stirrup leathers, paying no heed to his shrieks and his entreaties.

The operation concluded, the valet de chambre, who had superintended it, began to search the little Basochian, and did not release him until he was certain that he bore no secret missive. Then he hustled him to the gate, which was reopened, and, with a few parting blows of the stirrup leathers, threw him into the street, saying:

"This is the way that you will be treated whenever you appear here."

"Oh! bigre! oh! my ribs! my loins! This is infamous--the villains! how they went at it! Hoo! I shall be hunchbacked. What an ambush! Catch me going there again, to their devilish hôtel! And I thought it a good business!--A pretty business, on my word! I must be pretty sturdy to be able to walk. Hoo! what a pity that it didn't occur to me to send Plumard to do my errand to-day!"

Groaning and limping, Bahuchet arrived at the wine shop. Instead of going in, he beckoned to Léodgard to join him, and said:

"Let us not stay near that house, monsieur le comte; it's not a safe place! Perhaps they have a treat in store for you like the one I've just received."

He then described the way he had been maltreated by the Marquis de Santoval's servants.

"And they searched you?" asked Léodgard, apparently little moved by his messenger's groans.

"Yes, seigneur, from top to bottom!"

"It is lucky that I gave you no letter to-day."

"Yes, seigneur; for I believe that in that case they would have killed me on the spot.--Hoo! I am bruised to a jelly! I shall have a serious illness!"

"Nonsense! a man should not be so delicate! Just for a few blows with a cudgel!"

"A few blows? No, thanks, seigneur! they rained on my body like hail! If you had been beaten like that----"

"I would have defended myself! I would have killed two or three of the miserable lackeys!"

"Oh, yes! that would have been the finishing touch. I should have got myself into a pretty pickle! to trot off to the Châtelet or the Bastille, and rot there!"

"Nonsense! hold your peace and take this gold, which will heal your wounds."

"Thanks, seigneur! I certainly do need to buy medicines, ointments to rub my body."

"And before long you will be in condition to return to the marchioness's house."

"Return to the Hôtel de Santoval? Merciful heaven!"

And, waiting to hear no more, Bahuchet ran off as fast as his bruised legs allowed, and soon vanished from the count's sight.

"The coward!" exclaimed Léodgard, as he watched the little clerk's flight; "he is afraid of the danger!--So this Marquis de Santoval has suspicions; he plays the spy, he posts his servants in ambush! But it will avail him nothing! If Valentine will second me, we will crush all the obstacles that he may place between us!"

Some time had passed without any new occurrence, when Miretta one day entered Maître Bourdinard's office, where Plumard was trying to detach the last remaining piece of his plaster; while Bahuchet regaled himself with a small ham and a bottle of superfine old wine, in which he indulged himself with the proceeds of his visits to the Hôtel de Santoval.

On recognizing the marchioness's young lady's-maid, Bahuchet turned pale and swallowed a mouthful the wrong way, dreading a new cudgelling.

But the girl smiled at him and motioned that she wished to speak with him in secret.

The little clerk regretfully quitted his ham and went out with Miretta, who said to him when they reached a solitary spot:

"Are you willing to undertake a commission?"

"If it is to go to the Hôtel de Santoval again, never! I have had enough of that!"

"No, it is not that, but to carry this note to him who sent you to my mistress."

"Oh! that is a different matter."

"Here, this is for you; will you do the errand?"

Bahuchet at once placed in his belt the purse she handed him; then he glanced at the note and said:

"But I see no address."

"What is the use? you know perfectly well for whom it is!"

"I beg pardon! I know perfectly well that it is for the young lord who employed me; but I do not know that young lord; I know neither his name nor his residence; I have never seen him, except in the cheap wine shop where he always waited for me."

"And you do not know that he is Comte Léodgard de Marvejols?"

"The young Comte de Marvejols!--Peste!"

"You lie, Monsieur Bahuchet; for you told us about Comte Léodgard long ago, and you knew him perfectly well then!"

"It is difficult to deceive you, my pretty brunette!" said Bahuchet, scratching his ear; "I said that I didn't know the lover, because he ordered me not to know him; but, between ourselves, I think we may speak more frankly. It is a bargain; I will take the letter to the count."

"Do you know where he lives?"

"I know quite well that it is not with his wife. Say to your beautiful mistress that her commission will be executed to-day.--She must have pitied me when she learned how horribly I was maltreated in her house the last time that I had the honor to call there?"

"We did not know about it until a long time after, and then only through the indiscretion of one of the servants, upon whom absolute secrecy had been enjoined."

"So that Monsieur le Marquis de Santoval got wind of something? Is the man a tiger, a rhinoceros?"

"I know no more of him than you do, and I have no time to talk.--Adieu, Monsieur Bahuchet; and do not forget to carry the letter to Comte Léodgard!"

"It is as if he had it, piquant brunette!--By the way, are you still inclined to assume the defence of the famous Giovanni?"

"Giovanni! Giovanni!" murmured Miretta, whose face had become deathly pale; and she uttered a profound sigh.

"But I beg your pardon, my dear; I do not know why I speak to you of the illustrious brigand, for they say that he has not shown himself in Paris for more than six months--or, at all events, that he has not attacked anybody--which makes it fair to presume that he has left our city! I' faith, for my part, I am not sorry, and I wish him a pleasant journey; let him go elsewhere to get himself hanged!"

Miretta walked sadly away, murmuring:

"Gone away! oh, yes! he has gone away! He has left France without me! He has abandoned me--and still I cannot believe it!"