"Do not complain, Helene, for this is an exception in our favor; a prisoner is never allowed to press one who is dear to him to his heart; the visitor generally stands against that wall, the prisoner against this, a soldier is placed between, and the conversation must be fixed beforehand." "To whom do we owe this favor?" "Doubtless to the regent; for yesterday, when I asked permission of Monsieur d'Argenson, he said that it was beyond his power to grant, and that he must refer it to the regent." "But now that I see you again, Gaston, tell me all that has passed in this age of tears and suffering. Ah! tell me; but my presentiments did not deceive me; you were conspiring--do not deny it--I know it." "Yes; Helene, you know that we Bretons are constant both in our loves and our hatreds. A league was organized in Bretagne, in which all our nobles took part--could I act differently from my brothers? I ask you, Helene, could I, or ought I to have done so? Would you not have despised me, if, when you had seen all Bretagne under arms, I alone had been inactive--a whip in my hand while others held the sword?" "Oh! yes; you are right; but why did you not remain in Bretagne with the others?" "The others are arrested also, Helene." "Then you have been denounced--betrayed." "Probably--but sit down, Helene; now that we are alone, let me look at you, and tell you that you are beautiful, that I love you. How have you been in my absence--has the duke--" "Oh! if you only knew how good he is to me; every evening he comes to see me, and his care and attention--" "And," said Gaston, who thought of the suggestion of the false La Jonquiere, "nothing suspicious in those attentions?" "What do you mean, Gaston?" "That the duke is still young, and that, as I told you just now, you are beautiful." "Oh, Heaven! no! Gaston; this time there is not a shadow of doubt; and when he was there near me--as near as you are now--there were moments when it seemed as if I had found my father." "Poor child!" "Yes, by a strange chance, for which I cannot account, there is a resemblance between the duke's voice and that of the man who came to see me at Rambouillet--it struck me at once." "You think so?" said Gaston, in an abstracted tone. "What are you thinking of, Gaston?" asked Helene; "you seem scarcely to hear what I am saying to you." "Helene, every word you speak goes to the inmost depth of my heart." "You are uneasy, I understand. To conspire is to stake your life; but be easy, Gaston--I have told the duke that if you die I shall die too." Gaston started. "You are an angel," said he. "Oh, my God!" cried poor Helene, "how horrible to know that the man I love runs a danger--all the more terrible for being uncertain; to feel that I am powerless to aid him, and that I can only shed tears when I would give my life to save him."