"Come, my friend," said Helene.
Gaston followed her, the door closed behind them, and they entered a room on the ground-floor.
"You called me, and I am here, Helene," said the young man; "what do you fear, what dangers threaten you?"
"Look around you," said Helene, "and judge."
The room in which they were was a charming boudoir, adjoining the dining-room, with which it communicated not only by folding doors, but also by an opening almost concealed by rare and peculiar flowers. The boudoir was hung with blue satin; over the doors were pictures by Claude Audran, representing the history of Venus in four tableaux, while the panels formed other episodes of the same history, all most graceful in outline and voluptuous in expression. This was the house which Noce, in the innocence of his heart, had designated as fit for a prude.
"Gaston," said Helene, "I wonder whether I should really mistrust this man, who calls himself my father. My fears are more aroused here than at Rambouillet."
After examining the boudoir, Gaston and Helene pa.s.sed into the dining-room, and then into the garden, which was ornamented with marble statues of the same subjects as the pictures. As they returned, they pa.s.sed Madame Desroches, who had not lost sight of them, and who, raising her hands in a despairing manner, exclaimed:
"Oh, mon Dieu! what would monseigneur think of this?"
These words kindled the smoldering fire in Gaston"s breast.
"Monseigneur!" cried he; "you heard, Helene--monseigneur! We are then, as I feared, in the house of one of those great men who purchase pleasure at the expense of honor. Helene, do not allow yourself to be deceived. At Rambouillet I foresaw danger; here I see it."
"Mon Dieu," said Helene, "but if, by aid of his valets, this man should retain me here by force."
"Do not fear, Helene; am not I here?"
"Oh!" said Helene, "and must I renounce the sweet idea of finding a father, a preceptor, a friend."
"And at what a moment, when you are about to be left alone in the world," said Gaston, unconsciously betraying a part of his secret.
"What were you saying, Gaston? What is the meaning of these words?"
"Nothing--nothing," replied the young man; "some meaningless words which escaped me, and to which you must not attach any consequence."
"Gaston, you are hiding some dreadful secret from me, since you speak of abandoning me at the moment I lose a father."
"Helene, I will never abandon you except with life."
"Ah," cried the young girl, "your life is in danger, and it is thus that you fear to abandon me. Gaston, you betray yourself; you are no longer the Gaston of former days. You met me to-day with a constrained joy; losing me yesterday did not cause you intense sorrow: there are more important prospects in your mind than in your heart. There is something in you--pride, or ambition, more powerful than your love. You turn pale, Gaston; your silence breaks my heart."
"Nothing--nothing, Helene, I a.s.sure you. Is it surprising that I am troubled to find you here, alone and defenseless, and not know how to protect you; for doubtless this is a man of power. In Bretagne I should have had friends and two hundred peasants to defend me; here I have no one."
"Is that all, Gaston?"
"That is, it seems to me, more than enough."
"No, Gaston, for we will leave this house instantly."
Gaston turned pale; Helene lowered her eyes, and placing her hand in that of her lover--
"Before these people who watch us," said she; "before the eyes of this woman, we will go away together."
Gaston"s eyes lighted up with joy; but somber thoughts quickly clouded them again. Helene watched this changing expression.
"Am I not your wife, Gaston?" said she; "is not my honor yours? Let us go."
"But where to place you?" said Gaston.
"Gaston," replied Helene, "I know nothing, I can do nothing; I am ignorant of Paris--of the world; I only know myself and you; well, you have opened my eyes; I distrust all except your fidelity and love."
Gaston was in despair. Six months previous, and he would have paid with his life the generous devotion of the courageous girl.
"Helene, reflect," said Gaston; "if we were mistaken, and this man be really your father!"
"Gaston, do you forget that you first taught me to distrust him?"
"Oh, yes, Helene, let us go," cried Gaston.
"Where are we to go?" asked Helene; "but you need not reply--if you know, it is sufficient."
"Helene," said Gaston, "I will not insult you by swearing to respect your honor; the offer which you have made to-day I have long hesitated to make--rich, happy, sure for the present of fortune and happiness, I would have placed all at your feet, trusting to G.o.d for the future; but at this moment I must tell you, that you were not mistaken; from day to day, from this day to the next, there is a chance of a terrible event. I must tell you now, Helene, what I can offer you. If I succeed, a high and powerful position; but if I fail, flight, exile, it may be poverty.
Do you love me enough, Helene, or rather do you love your honor enough, to brave all this and follow me?"
"I am ready, Gaston; tell me to follow you, and I do so."
"Well, Helene, your confidence shall not be displaced, believe me; I will take you to a person who will protect you, if necessary, and who, in my absence, will replace the father you thought to find, but whom you have, on the contrary, lost a second time."
"Who is this person, Gaston? This is not distrust," added Helene, with a charming smile, "but curiosity."
"Some one who can refuse me nothing, Helene, whose days are dependent on mine, and who will think I demand small payment when I exact your peace and security."
"Still mysterious, Gaston: really, you frighten me."
"This secret is the last, Helene; from this moment my whole life will be open to you."
"I thank you, Gaston."
"And now I am at your orders, Helene."
"Let us go then."
Helene took the chevalier"s arm, and crossed the drawing-room, where sat Madame Desroches, pale with anger, and scrawling a letter, whose destination we can guess.
"Mon Dieu! mademoiselle, where are you going? what are you doing?"
"I am going away from a house where my honor is threatened."
"What!" cried the old lady, springing to her feet, "you are going away with your lover."
"You are mistaken, madame," replied Helene, in an accent of dignity, "it is with my husband."