"What in my love, or rather in my egotism, I have dreaded to tell you before. I shut my eyes to this hour, and yet I knew that it must come; this morning they were opened. I must leave you, Helene." "But why? What have you undertaken? what will become of you?" "Alas! Helene, we each have our secret," said the chevalier, sorrowfully; "I pray that yours may be less terrible than mine." "Gaston!" "Were you not the first to say that we must part, Helene? Had not you first the courage to renounce me? Well; blessings on you for that courage--for I, Helene, had it not." And at these last words the young man again pressed his lips to her hand, and Helene could see that tears stood in his eyes. "Oh, mon Dieu!" murmured she, "how have we deserved this misery?" At this exclamation Gaston raised his head. "Come," said he, as if to himself, "courage! It is useless to struggle against these necessities; let us obey without a murmur, and perhaps our resignation may disarm our fate. Can I see you again?" "I fear not--I leave to-morrow." "And on what road?" "To Paris." "Good heavens!" cried Gaston; "and I also." "You, also, Gaston?" "Yes, Helene; we were mistaken, we need not part." "Oh, Gaston; is it true?" "Helene, we had no right to accuse Providence; not only can we see each other on the journey, but at Paris we will not be separated. How do you travel?" "In the convent carriage, with post horses and by short stages." "Who goes with you?" "A nun, who will return to the convent when she has delivered me over to those who await me." "All is for the best, Helene. I shall go on horseback, as a stranger, unknown to you; each evening I may speak to you, or, if I cannot do so, I shall at least see you--it will be but a half separation." And the two lovers, with the buoyant hopes of youth, after meeting with tears and sadness, parted with smiles and joyous confidence in the future. Gaston recrossed the frozen lake, and found, instead of his own wounded horse, that of Montlouis, and, thanks to this kindness, reached Nantes safely in less than three quarters of an hour. CHAPTER V. THE JOURNEY. That very night Gaston made his will, and deposited it with a notary at Nantes. He left everything to Helene de Chaverny; begged her, if he died, not to renounce the world, but to accept the career opening to her youth and beauty; but, as he was the last of his family, he begged her, in memeory of him, to call her first son Gaston. He next went to see each of his friends, and once more told them that he believed the enterprise would be successful. Pontcalec gave him half a piece of gold and a letter, which he was to present to a certain Captain la Jonquiere, their correspondent at Paris, who would put Gaston in communication with the important persons he went to seek. He then put all the ready money he had into a valise, and, accompanied only by an old servant named Owen, in whom he had great confidence, he set out from Nantes.