"Pardon, monsieur; I forgot it."
And he gave Gaston the letter.
"Poor imbecile!" said the false La Jonquiere, "and these idiots think of conspiring. It is like D"Harmental; they think they can attend to love and politics at the same time. Triple fools; if they were to go at once to La Fillon"s for the former, the latter would not be so likely to bring them to the Place de Greve."
Gaston returned joyously, reading and re-reading Helene"s letter. "Rue de Faubourg St. Antoine; a white house behind trees--poplars, I think. I could not see the number, but it is the thirty-first or thirty-second house on the left side, after pa.s.sing a chateau with towers, resembling a prison."
"Oh," cried Gaston, "I can find that; it is the Bastille."
Dubois overheard these words.
"Parbleu; I will take care you shall find it, if I lead you there myself."
Gaston looked at his watch, and finding that it wanted two hours of the time appointed for his rendezvous in the Rue du Bac, took up his hat and was going out.
"What! are you going away?" asked Dubois.
"I am obliged to do so."
"And our appointment for eleven o"clock?"
"It is not yet nine."
"You do not want me?"
"No, thank you."
"If you are preparing an abduction, for instance, I am an adept, and might a.s.sist you."
"Thank you," said Gaston, reddening involuntarily, "but I am not."
Dubois whistled an air, to show that he took the answer for what it was worth.
"Shall I find you here on my return?" asked Gaston.
"I do not know; perhaps I also have to rea.s.sure some pretty creature who is interested in me; but, at any rate, at the appointed hour you will find your yesterday"s guide with the same carriage and the same coachman."
Gaston took a hasty leave. At the corner of the cemetery of the Innocents he took a carriage, and was driven to the Rue St. Antoine. At the twentieth house he alighted, ordering the driver to follow him; then he proceeded to examine the left side of the street. He soon found himself facing a high wall, over which he saw the tops of some tall poplars; this house, he felt sure, was the one where Helene was.
But here his difficulties were but commencing. There was no opening in the wall, neither bell nor knocker at the door; those who came with couriers galloping before them to strike with their silver-headed canes could dispense with a knocker. Gaston was afraid to strike with a stone, for fear of being denied admittance, he therefore ordered the coachman to stop, and going up a narrow lane by one side of the house, he imitated the cry of the screech-owl--a signal preconcerted.
Helene started. She recognized the cry, and it seemed to her as though she were again in the Augustine convent at Clissons, with the chevalier"s boat under her windows. She ran to the window; Gaston was there.
Helene and he exchanged a glance; then, re-entering the room, she rang a bell, which Madame Desroches had given her, so violently that two servants and Madame Desroches herself all entered at once.
"Go and open the door," said Helene, imperiously. "There is some one at the door whom I expect."
"Stop," said Madame Desroches to the valet, who was going to obey; "I will go myself."
"Useless, madame. I know who it is, and I have already told you that it is a person whom I expect."
"But mademoiselle ought not to receive this person," replied the duenna, trying to stand her ground.
"I am no longer at the convent, madame, and I am not yet in prison,"
replied Helene; "and I shall receive whom I please."
"But, at least, I may know who this is?"
"I see no objection. It is the same person whom I received at Rambouillet."
"M. de Livry?"
"Yes."
"I have positive orders not to allow this young man to see you."
"And _I_ order you to admit him instantly."
"Mademoiselle, you disobey your father," said Madame Desroches, half angrily, half respectfully.
"My father does not see through your eyes, madame."
"Yet, who is master of your fate?"
"I alone," cried Helene, unwilling to allow any domination.
"Mademoiselle, I swear to you that your father--"
"Will approve, if he be my father."
These words, given with all the pride of an empress, cowed Madame Desroches, and she had recourse to silence.
"Well," said Helene, "I ordered that the door should be opened; does no one obey when I command?"
No one stirred; they waited for the orders of Madame Desroches.
Helene smiled scornfully, and made such an imperious gesture that Madame Desroches moved from the door, and made way for her; Helene then, slowly and with dignity, descended the staircase herself, followed by Madame Desroches, who was petrified to find such a will in a young girl just out of a convent.
"She is a queen," said the waiting-maid to Madame Desroches; "I know I should have gone to open the door, if she had not done so herself."
"Alas!" said the duenna, "they are all alike in that family."
"Do you know the family, then?" asked the servant, astonished.
Madame Desroches saw that she had said too much.
"Yes," said she; "I formerly knew the marquis, her father."
Meanwhile Helene had descended the staircase, crossed the court, and opened the door; on the step stood Gaston.