"Then Gaston spoke to me of a person who could refuse him nothing--who would watch over me and be a father to me. He brought me here, saying he would return to me. I waited in vain for more than an hour, and at length, fearing some accident had happened to him, I asked for you." The regent's brow became clouded. "Thus," said he, "it was Gaston's influence that turned you from your duty--his fears aroused yours?" "Yes; he suspected the mystery which encircled me, and feared that it concealed some fatal project." "But he must have given you some proof to persuade you." "What proof was needed in that abominable house? Would a father have placed his daughter in such a habitation?" "Yes, yes," murmured the regent, "he was wrong; but confess that without the chevalier's suggestions, you, in the innocence of your soul, would have had no suspicion." "No," said Helene, "but happily Gaston watched over me." "Do you then believe that all Gaston said to you was true?" asked the regent. "We easily side with those we love, monsieur." "And you love the chevalier?" "Yes; for the last two years, monsieur." "But how could he see you in the convent?" "By night, with the aid of a boat." "And did he see you often?" "Every week." "Then you love him?" "Yes, monsieur." "But how could you dispose of your heart, knowing that you were not your own mistress?" "For sixteen years I had heard nothing of my family; how could I suppose that all at once it would reveal itself, or rather, that an odious maneuver should take me from my quiet retreat to my ruin?" "Then you still think that that man lied, when he called himself your father?" "I scarcely know what to think, and my mind becomes bewildered in contemplating this strange reality, which seems so like a dream." "But you should not consult your mind here, Helene," said the regent; "you should consult your heart. When you were with this man, did not your heart speak to you?" "Oh!" said Helene, "while he was there I was convinced, for I have never felt emotion such as I felt then." "Yes," replied the regent, bitterly; "but when he was gone, this emotion disappeared, driven away by stronger influence. It is very simple, this man was only your father; Gaston was your lover." "Monsieur," said Helene, drawing back, "you speak strangely." "Pardon me," replied the regent, in a sweet voice; "I see that I allowed myself to be carried away by my interest. But what surprises me more than all, mademoiselle," continued he, "is that, being beloved as you are by Gaston, you could not induce him to abandon his projects." "His projects, monsieur! what do you mean?" "What! you do not know the object of his visit to Paris?" "I do not, monsieur. When I told him, with tears in my eyes, that I was forced to leave Clisson, he said he must also leave Nantes. When I told him that I was coming to Paris, he answered, with a cry of joy, that he was about to set out for the same place."