"Then," cried the regent, his heart freed from an enormous load, "you are not his accomplice?" "His accomplice!" cried Helene, alarmed; "ah, mon Dieu! what does this mean?" "Nothing," said the regent, "nothing." "Oh, yes, monsieur; you have used a word which explains all. I wondered what made so great a change in Gaston. Why, for the last year, whenever I spoke of our future, his brow became dark. Why, with so sad a smile, he said to me, 'Helene, no one is sure of the morrow.' Why he fell into such reveries, as though some misfortune threatened him. That misfortune you have shown me, monsieur. Gaston saw none but malcontents there--Montlouis, Pontcalec. Ah! Gaston is conspiring--that is why he came to Paris." "Then you knew nothing of this conspiracy?" "Alas, monsieur! I am but a woman, and, doubtless, Gaston did not think me worthy to share such a secret." "So much the better," cried the regent; "and now, my child, listen to the voice of a friend, of a man who might be your father. Let the chevalier go on the path he has chosen, since you have still the power to go no further." "Who? I, monsieur!" cried Helene; "I abandon him at a moment when you yourself tell me that a danger threatens him that I had not known! Oh, no, no, monsieur! We two are alone in the world, we have but each other: Gaston has no parents, I have none either; or if I have, they have been separated from me for sixteen years, and are accustomed to my absence. We may, then, lose ourselves together without costing any one a tear--oh, I deceived you, monsieur, and whatever crime he has committed, or may commit, I am his accomplice." "Ah!" murmured the regent, in a choking voice, "my last hope fails me; she loves him." Helene turned, with astonishment, toward the stranger who took so lively an interest in her sorrow. The regent composed himself. "But," continued he, "did you not almost renounce him? Did you not tell him, the day you separated, that you could not dispose of your heart and person?" "Yes, I told him so," replied the young girl, with exaltation, "because at that time I believed him happy, because I did not know that his liberty, perhaps his life, were compromised; then, my heart would have suffered, but my conscience would have remained tranquil; it was a grief to bear, not a remorse to combat; but since I know him threatened--unhappy--I feel that his life is mine." "But you exaggerate your love for him," replied the regent, determined to ascertain his daughter's feelings. "This love would yield to absence."