"More than ever; the regent must die, and," added he in a hollow voice, "die he shall." "But do you not first wish to see Mademoiselle de Chaverny?" asked the regent. "Yes, monseigneur, but first I must have your promise to aid me in my project. Remember, monseigneur; there is not an instant to lose; my companions are condemned, as I was. Tell me at once, before I see Helene, that you will not abandon me. Let me make a new engagement with you--I am a man; I love, and therefore I am weak. I shall have to struggle against her tears and against my own weakness; monseigneur, I will only see Helene under the condition that you will enable me to see the regent." "And if I refuse that condition?" "Then, monseigneur, I will not see Helene; I am dead to her; it is useless to renew hope in her which she must lose again, it is enough that she must weep for me once." "And you would still persist?" "Yes, but with less chance." "Then what would you do?" "Wait for the regent wherever he goes, and strike him whenever I can find him." "Think once more," said the duke. "By the honor of my name," replied Gaston, "I once more implore your aid, or I declare that I will find means to dispense with it." "Well, monsieur, go and see Helene, and you shall have my answer on your return." "Where?" "In that room." "And the answer shall be according to my desire?" "Yes." Gaston went into Helene's room; she was kneeling before a crucifix, praying that her lover might be restored to her. At the noise which Gaston made in opening the door she turned round. Believing that God had worked a miracle, and uttering a cry, she held out her arms toward the chevalier, but without the strength to raise herself. "Oh, mon Dieu! is it himself? is it his shade?" "It is myself, Helene," said the young man, darting toward her, and grasping her hands. "But how? a prisoner this morning--free, this evening?" "I escaped, Helene." "And then you thought of me, you ran to me, you would not fly without me. Oh! I recognize my Gaston there. Well--I am ready, take me where you will--I am yours--I am--" "Helene," said Gaston, "you are not the bride of an ordinary man; if I had been only like all other men you would not have loved me." "Oh, no!" "Well, Helene, to superior souls superior duties are allotted, and consequently greater trials; before I can be yours I have to accomplish the mission on which I came to Paris; we have both a fatal destiny to fulfill. Our life or death hangs on a single event which must be accomplished to-night." "What do you mean?" cried the young girl. "Listen, Helene," replied Gaston, "if in four hours, that is to say, by daybreak, you have no news of me, do not expect me, believe that all that has passed between us is but a dream--and, if you can obtain permission to do so, come again and see me in the Bastille." Helene trembled, Gaston took her back to her prie-Dieu, where she knelt.