"Serpent! I understand the meaning of what you said just now." "He was in an excess of enthusiasm--he might have forgotten his love. You know my principle, monseigneur: distrust first impulses, they are always good." "It is an infamous principle." "Monseigneur, either one is a diplomatist or one is not." "Well," said the regent, stepping toward the door, "I shall go and warn him." "Monseigneur," said Dubois, stopping the duke with an accent of extreme resolution, and taking a paper out of his portfolio, already prepared, "if you do so, have the kindness in that case to accept my resignation at once. Joke, if you will, but, as Horace said, 'est modus in rebus.' He was a great as well as a courteous man. Come, come, monseigneur, a truce to politics for this evening--go back to the ball, and to-morrow evening all will be settled--France will be rid of four of her worst enemies, and you will retain a son-in-law whom I greatly prefer to M. de Riom, I assure you." And with these words they returned to the ballroom, Dubois joyous and triumphant, the duke sad and thoughtful, but convinced that his minister was right. CHAPTER XXXV. THE LAST INTERVIEW. Gaston left the conservatory, his heart bounding with joy. The enormous weight which had oppressed him since the commencement of the conspiracy, and which Helene's love had scarcely been able to alleviate, now seemed to disappear as at the touch of an angel. To dreams of vengeance, dreams both terrible and bloody, succeeded visions of love and glory. Helene was not only a charming and a loving woman, she was also a princess of the blood royal--one of those divinities whose tenderness men would purchase with their hearts' blood, if they did not, being after all weak as mortals, give this inestimable tenderness away. And Gaston felt revive within his breast the slumbering instinct of ambition. What a brilliant fortune was his--one to be envied by such men as Richelieu and Lauzun. No Louis XIV., imposing, as on Lauzun, exile or the abandonment of his mistress--no irritated father combating the pretensions of a simple gentleman--but, on the contrary, a powerful friend, greedy of love, longing to prove his affection for his pure and noble daughter. A holy emulation between the daughter and the son-in-law to make themselves more worthy of so just a prince, so mild a conqueror. In a quarter of an hour Gaston had gained the Rue du Bac. The door opened before him--a cry was heard--Helene, at the window watching for his return, had recognized the carriage, and ran joyously to meet him. "Saved!" cried Gaston, seeing her; "saved! my friends, I--you--all--saved!" "Oh, God!" cried Helene, turning pale, "you have killed him, then?" "No, no; thank God! Oh! Helene, what a heart, what a man is this regent! Oh, love him well, Helene; you will love him, will you not?" "Explain yourself, Gaston."