Gaston almost trembled. He looked in a glass and saw that he was pale; a thousand new ideas assailed him; the door opened, and La Jonquiere appeared. "Come, chevalier," said he, "we are expected." Gaston advanced with a firm step. They found a man seated in an armchair, his back turned to the door. A single light, placed on a table and covered with a shade, lighted only the lower part of his body; his head and shoulders were in shadow. Gaston thought the face noble, and understood at once that this was a man of worth, and no La Jonquiere. The mouth was benevolent and the eyes large, bold, and firm, like those of a king or a bird of prey; deep thought was written on his brow, prudence and some degree of firmness in the lower part of the face; all this, however, in the half-darkness, and in spite of the Mechlin cravat. "At least this is an eagle," thought he, "the other was but a raven." Gaston bowed silently, and the unknown, rising, went and leaned against the chimney. "Monsieur is the person of whom I spoke to your excellency," said La Jonquiere, "M. le Chevalier Gaston de Chanlay." The unknown bowed silently. "Mordieu!" whispered Dubois in his ear, "if you do not speak he will not say anything." "This gentleman comes from Bretagne, I believe," said the duke, coldly. "Yes, monsieur; but will your excellency pardon me. Captain la Jonquiere has told my name, but I have not been told yours. Excuse my rudeness, monseigneur; it is not I who speak, it is my province, which sends me." "You are right, monsieur," said La Jonquiere, quickly, taking from a portfolio on the table a paper, at the bottom of which was a large signature with the seal of the king of Spain. "Here is the name," said he. "Duc d'Olivares," read Gaston. Then turning to him, he bowed respectfully. "And now, monsieur," said the duke, "you will not, I presume, hesitate to speak." "I thought I had first to listen," said Gaston, still on the defensive. "True: but, remember, it is a dialogue; each one speaks in turn." "Monseigneur, you do me too much honor, and I will set the example of confidence." "I listen, monsieur." "Monseigneur, the states of Bretagne--" "The malcontents of Bretagne," interrupted the regent smiling, in spite of a sign from Dubois. "The malcontents are so numerous," replied Gaston, "that they may be considered the representatives of the province: however, I will employ the word your excellency points out; the malcontents of Bretagne have sent me to you, monseigneur, to learn the intentions of Spain in this affair." "First let us learn those of Bretagne." "Monseigneur, Spain may count on us; we pledge our word, and Breton loyalty is proverbial." "But what do you promise?" "To second the efforts of the French nobility." "But are you not French?" "Monseigneur, we are Bretons. Bretagne, reunited to France by a treaty, may look on herself as separated from the moment when France no longer respects the rights of that treaty."