"Yes, it is a misfortune, Gaston. Our good mother at first congratulated me, as if it were a pleasure; but I was happy here, and wished to remain till I became your wife. I am otherwise disposed of, but how?" "And this order to remove you?" "Admits of neither dispute nor delay. Alas! it seems that I belong to a powerful family, and that I am the daughter of some great nobleman. When the good mother told me I must leave, I burst into tears, and fell on my knees, and said I would not leave her; then, suspecting that I had some hidden motive, she pressed me, questioned me, and--forgive me, Gaston--I wanted to confide in some one; I felt the want of pity and consolation, and I told her all--that we loved each other--all except the manner in which we meet. I was afraid if I told her that, that she would prevent my seeing you this last time to say adieu." "But did you not tell, Helene, what were my plans; that, bound to an association myself for six months, perhaps for a year, at the end of that time, the very day I should be free, my name, my fortune, my very life, was yours?" "I told her, Gaston; and this is what makes me think I am the daughter of some powerful nobleman, for then Mother Ursula replied: 'You must forget the chevalier, my child, for who knows that your new family would consent to your marrying him?'" "But do not I belong to one of the oldest families in Brittany? and, though I am not rich, my fortune is independent. Did you say this, Helene?" "Yes; I said to her, 'Gaston chose me, an orphan, without name and without fortune. I may be separated from him, but it would be cruel ingratitude to forget him, and I shall never do so.'" "Helene, you are an angel. And you cannot then imagine who are your parents, or to what you are destined?" "No; it seems that it is a secret on which all my future happiness depends; only, Gaston, I fear they are high in station, for it almost appeared as if our superior spoke to me with deference." "To you, Helene?" "Yes." "So much the better," said Gaston, sighing. "Do you rejoice at our separation, Gaston?" "No, Helene; but I rejoice that you should find a family when you are about to lose a friend." "Lose a friend, Gaston! I have none but you; whom then should I lose?" "At least, I must leave you for some time, Helene." "What do you mean?" "I mean that Fate has endeavored to make our lots similar, and that you are not the only one who does not know what the morrow may bring forth." "Gaston! Gaston! what does this strange language mean?" "That I also am subject to a fatality which I must obey--that I also am governed by an irresistible and superior power." "You! oh heavens!" "To a power which may condemn me to leave you in a week--in a fortnight--in a month; and not only to leave you, but to leave France." "Ah, Gaston! what do you tell me?"