"But," continued he, "did you not almost renounce him? Did you not tell him, the day you separated, that you could not dispose of your heart and person?"
"Yes, I told him so," replied the young girl, with exaltation, "because at that time I believed him happy, because I did not know that his liberty, perhaps his life, were compromised; then, my heart would have suffered, but my conscience would have remained tranquil; it was a grief to bear, not a remorse to combat; but since I know him threatened--unhappy--I feel that his life is mine."
"But you exaggerate your love for him," replied the regent, determined to ascertain his daughter"s feelings. "This love would yield to absence."
"It would yield to nothing, monsieur; in the isolation in which my parents left me, this love has become my only hope, my happiness, my life. Ah! monsieur, if you have any influence with him--and you must have, since he confides to you the secrets which he keeps from me--in Heaven"s name, induce him to renounce these projects, of which you speak; tell him what I dare not tell him myself, that I love him beyond all expression; tell him that his fate shall be mine; that if he be exiled, I exile myself; if he be imprisoned, I will be so too; and that if he dies, I die. Tell him _that_, monsieur; and add--add that you saw, by my tears and by my despair, that I spoke the truth."
"Unhappy child!" murmured the regent.
Indeed, Helene"s situation was a pitiable one. By the paleness of her cheeks, it was evident that she suffered cruelly; while she spoke, her tears flowed ceaselessly, and it was easy to see that every word came from her heart, and that what she had said she would do.
"Well," said the regent, "I promise you that I will do all I can to save the chevalier."
Helene was about to throw herself at the duke"s feet, so humbled was this proud spirit by the thought of Gaston"s danger; but the regent received her in his arms. Helene trembled through her whole frame--there was something in the contact with this man which filled her with hope and joy. She remained leaning on his arm, and made no effort to raise herself.
"Mademoiselle," said the regent, watching her with an expression which would certainty have betrayed him if Helene had raised her eyes to his face, "Mademoiselle, the most pressing affair first--I have told you that Gaston is in danger, but not in immediate danger; let us then first think of yourself, whose position is both false and precarious. You are intrusted to my care, and I must, before all else, acquit myself worthily of this charge. Do you trust me, mademoiselle?"
"Oh, yes; Gaston brought me to you."
"Always Gaston," sighed the regent, in an undertone; then to Helene he said:
"You will reside in this house, which is unknown, and here you will be free. Your society will consist of excellent books, and my presence will not be wanting, if it be agreeable to you."
Helene made a movement as if to speak.
"Besides," continued the duke, "it will give you an opportunity to speak of the chevalier."
Helene blushed, and the regent continued:
"The church of the neighboring convent will be open to you, and should you have the slightest fear, such as you have already experienced, the convent itself might shelter you--the superior is a friend of mine."
"Ah, monsieur," said Helene, "you quite rea.s.sure me; I accept the house you offer me--and your great kindness to Gaston and myself will ever render your presence agreeable to me."
The regent bowed.
"Then, mademoiselle," said he, "consider yourself at home here; I think there is a sleeping-room adjoining this room--the arrangement of the ground-floor is commodious, and this evening I will send you two nuns from the convent, whom, doubtless, you would prefer to servants, to wait on you."
"Ah, yes, monsieur."
"Then," continued the regent, with hesitation, "then you have almost renounced your--father?"
"Ah, monsieur, do you not understand that it is for fear he should not be my father."
"However," replied the regent, "nothing proves it; that house alone is certainly an argument against him but he might not have known it."
"Oh," said Helene, "that is almost impossible."
"However, if he took any further steps, if he should discover your retreat and claim you, or at least ask to see you?"
"Monsieur, we would inform Gaston, and learn his opinion."
"It is well," said the regent, with a smile; and he held out his hand to Helene, and then moved toward the door.
"Monsieur," said Helene, in a scarcely audible voice.
"Do you wish for anything?" asked the duke, returning.
"Can I see him?"
The words seemed to die away on her lips as she p.r.o.nounced them.
"Yes," said the duke, "but is it not better for your sake to do so as little as possible?" Helene lowered her eyes.
"Besides," said the duke, "he has gone on a journey, and may not be back for some days."
"And shall I see him on his return?"
"I swear it to you."
Ten minutes after, two nuns and a lay sister entered and installed themselves in the house.
When the regent quitted his daughter, he asked for Dubois, but he was told that, after waiting half an hour, Dubois had returned to the Palais Royal.
The duke, on entering the abbe"s room, found him at work with his secretaries; a portfolio full of papers was on the table.
"I beg a thousand pardons," said Dubois, on seeing the duke, "but as you delayed, and your conference was likely to be prolonged greatly, I took the liberty of transgressing your orders, and returning here."
"You did rightly; but I want to speak to you."
"To me?"
"Yes, to you."
"To me alone?"
"Alone."
"In that case, will monseigneur go into my cabinet, or into your own room?"
"Let us go into your cabinet."
The abbe made a respectful bow and opened the door--the regent pa.s.sed in first, and Dubois followed when he had replaced the portfolio under his arm. These papers had probably been got together in expectation of this visit.
When they were in the cabinet, the duke looked round him.
"The place is safe?" asked he.
"Pardieu, each door is double, and the walls are two feet thick."