Dubois bowed assent, called a servant, got his portfolio, and presented to the regent a sheet of paper, who wrote an order on it and signed it. "Now a courier." "Oh, no! monseigneur, it is useless." "Why so?" "A courier would never go quickly enough. I will go myself, if your highness will permit me; every moment I gain will save those unhappy men an age of torture." Dubois frowned. "Yes! yes! you are right," said the regent, "go yourself;" and he added in a low voice, "and do not let the order leave your hands." "But, monseigneur," said Dubois, "you are more impatient than the young man himself; you forget that if he goes thus there is some one in Paris who will think he is dead." These words struck Gaston, and recalled to him Helene, whom he had left, expecting him from one moment to another, in the fear of some great event, and who would never forgive him should he leave Paris without seeing her. In an instant his resolution was taken; he kissed the duke's hand, took the order, and was going, when the regent said-- "Not a word to Helene of what I told you; the only recompense I ask of you is to leave me the pleasure of telling her she is my child." "Your highness shall be obeyed," said Gaston, moved to tears, and again bowing, he hastily went out. "This way," said Dubois; "really, you look as if you had assassinated some one, and you will be arrested; cross this grove, at the end is a path which will lead you to the street." "Oh, thank you; you understand that delay--" "Might be fatal. That is why," added he to himself, "I have shown you the longest way--go." When Gaston had disappeared, Dubois returned to the regent. "What is the matter, monseigneur?" asked he; "you seem uneasy." "I am." "And why?" "You made no resistance to my performing a good action--this frightened me." Dubois smiled. "Dubois," said the duke, "you are plotting something." "No, monseigneur, it is all arranged." "What have you done?" "Monseigneur, I know you." "Well." "I knew what would happen. That you would never be satisfied till you had signed the pardon of all these fellows." "Go on." "Well, I also have sent a courier." "You!" "Yes, I; have I not the right to send couriers?" "Yes; but, in Heaven's name, tell me what order your courier carried." "An order for their execution." "And he is gone?" Dubois took out his watch. "Two hours ago," said he. "Wretch!" "Ah, monseigneur! always big words. Every man to his trade, save M. de Chanlay, if you like; he is your son-in-law; as for me, I save you." "Yes; but I know De Chanlay. He will arrive before the courier." "No, monseigneur." "Two hours are nothing to a man like him; he will soon have made them up." "Were my courier only two hours in advance," said Dubois, "De Chanlay might overtake him, but he will be three." "How so?" "Because the worthy young man is in love; and if I reckon an hour for taking leave of your daughter, I am sure it is not too much."