ILLUSIONS AND REALITIES.
Beausire, on leaving the house, ran as fast as possible down the Rue
Coquillière, then into the Rue St. Honoré, and took everywhere the most
intricate and improbable turnings he could think of, and continued this
until he became quite exhausted. Then, thinking himself tolerably safe,
he sat down in the corn market, on a sack, to recover his breath. “Ah!”
thought he, “now I have made my fortune; I will be an honest man for
the future, and I will make Oliva an honest woman. She is beautiful,
and she will not mind leading a retired life with me in some province,
where we shall live like lords. She is very good; she has but two
faults, idleness and pride, and as I shall satisfy her on both these
points, she will be perfect.” He then began to reflect on what he
should do next. They would seek him, of course, and most likely divide
into different parties, and some would probably go first to his own
house. Here lay his great difficulty, for there they would find Oliva,
and they might ill-treat her. They might even take her as a hostage,
speculating on his love for her. What should he do? Love carried the
day; he ran off again like lightning, took a coach, and drove to the
Pont Neuf. He then looked cautiously down the Rue Dauphine to
reconnoiter, and he saw two men, who seemed also looking anxiously down
the street. He thought they were police spies, but that was nothing
uncommon in that part of the town; so, bending his back, and walking
lamely, for disguise, he went on till he nearly reached his house.
Suddenly he thought he saw the coat of a gendarme in the courtyard;
then he saw one at the window of Oliva’s room. He felt ready to drop,
but he thought his best plan was to walk quietly on; he had that
courage, and passed the house. Heavens! what a sight! the yard was full
of soldiers, and among them a police commissioner. Beausire’s rapid
glance showed him what he thought disappointed faces. He thought that
M. de Crosne had somehow begun to suspect him, and, sending to take
him, had found only Oliva.
“I cannot help her now,” thought he; “I should only lose my money and
destroy us both. No, let me place that in safety, and then I will see
what can be done.” He therefore ran off again, taking his way almost
mechanically towards the Luxembourg; but as he turned the corner of the
Rue St. Germain, he was almost knocked down by a handsome carriage
which was driving towards the Rue Dauphine, and, raising his head to
swear at the coachman, he thought he saw Oliva inside, talking with
much animation to a handsome man who sat by her. He gave a cry of
surprise, and would have run after it, but he could not again encounter
the Rue Dauphine. He felt bewildered, for he had before settled that
Oliva had been arrested in her own house, and he fancied his brain must
be turning when he believed he saw her in the carriage. But he started
off again and took refuge in a small cabaret at the Luxembourg, where
the hostess was an old friend. There he gradually began to recover
again his courage and hope. He thought the police would not find him,
and that his money was safe. He remembered also that Oliva had
committed no crime, and that the time was passed when people were kept
prisoners for nothing. He also thought that his money would soon obtain
her release, even if she were sent to prison, and he would then set off
with her for Switzerland. Such were his dreams and projects as he sat
sipping his wine.