"That is a good idea," said the regent; "to-morrow, then, at eleven o'clock, you shall be fetched, and we will then have no secrets from each other." Gaston bowed and retired. In the antechamber he found the guide who brought him, but he noticed that in leaving they crossed a garden which they had not passed through on entering, and went out by a different door. At this door the carriage waited, and it quickly arrived at the Rue des Bourdonnais. CHAPTER XVIII. THE FAUBOURG SAINT ANTOINE. No more illusion for the chevalier. In a day or two he might be called to his work. The Spanish envoy had deeply impressed Gaston--there was about him an air of greatness which surprised him. A strange circumstance passed across his mind; there was, between his forehead and eyes and those of Helene, one of those vague and distant likenesses which seem almost like the incoherence of a dream. Gaston, without knowing why, associated these two faces in his memory, and could not separate them. As he was about to lie down, worn out with fatigue, a horse's feet sounded in the street, the hotel door opened, and Gaston heard an animated conversation; but soon the door was closed, the noise ceased, and he slept as a man sleeps at five-and-twenty, even if he be a conspirator. However, Gaston was not mistaken; a horse had arrived, and a conversation had taken place. A peasant from Rambouillet brought in haste a note from a young and pretty woman to the Chevalier de Chanlay, Hotel Muids d'Amour. We can imagine who the young and pretty woman was. Tapin took the letter, looked at it, then, taking off his apron, left the charge of the hotel to one of his servants, and went off to Dubois. "Oh," exclaimed the latter, "let us see; a letter!" He unsealed it skillfully by aid of steam, and, on reading it, seemed pleased. "Good! excellent! Let them alone to go their own way; we hold the reins, and can stop them when we like." Then, turning to Tapin, he gave him the letter, which he had resealed. "Here," said he, "deliver the letter." "When?" asked Tapin. "At once." Tapin stepped toward the door. "No, stop," said Dubois; "to-morrow morning will be soon enough." "Now," said Tapin, "may I make an observation?" "Speak." "As monseigneur's agent, I gain three crowns a day." "Well, is not that enough, you scoundrel?" "It was enough as agent. I do not complain, but it is not enough as wine-merchant. Oh, the horrid trade!" "Drink and amuse yourself." "Since I have sold wine I hate it." "Because you see how it is made; but drink champagne, muscat, anything: Bourguignon pays. Apropos, he has had a real attack; so your lie was only an affair of chronology." "Indeed." "Yes, fear has caused it; you want to inherit his goods?" "No, no; the trade is not amusing." "Well, I will add three crowns a day to your pay while you are there, and I will give the shop to your eldest daughter. Bring me such letters often, and you shall be welcome."