"Why? Because Madame de Poitiers refused to speak, Aloyse; because Diane may be my sister; and because I love Diane; because it may be that the king was responsible for my father's murder; and because I cannot wreak my vengeance on him unless I am sure of it. And so, since I can neither avenge my father nor marry my sister, I don't see what more there is for me to do in this world. That is why I choose to leave it." "No, Monseigneur, you shall not leave it," said Aloyse, gloomy and cast down, and in a spiritless voice. "You shall not leave it, because you have much to do, and a terrible task, I promise you. But I shall not speak to you of it until the day when you are entirely well again; and Master Nostredame tells me that you may hear what I have to say, and that you have sufficient strength to bear it." That day arrived on the Tuesday of the week following. Gabriel had been out for the three days preceding, getting ready his equipments, and preparing for his departure; and Nostradamus had said he would come once more during the day to see his convalescent, but that it would be for the last time. When Aloyse was alone with Gabriel, she said to him,-- "Monseigneur, have you considered well the extreme resolution you have taken, and do you persist in it?" "I do indeed," said Gabriel. "And you mean to kill yourself?" "I mean to kill myself." "And is it because you have no means of ascertaining whether Madame de Castro is or is not your sister that you mean to die?" "For that very reason." "What did I say to you, Monseigneur, to put you on the track of this fearful secret? Do you remember what I said!" "To be sure! That God in the other world and two persons only in this had ever known this secret. The two human beings were Diane de Poitiers and the Comte de Montgommery, my father. I have begged and implored and threatened Madame de Valentinois; but when I left her, I was more uncertain and despairing than ever." "But when I told you, Monseigneur," said Aloyse, "you declared that if it were necessary for you to descend into your father's tomb to wrest this secret from him, you would not shrink from the task." "But," said Gabriel, "I have no idea where that tomb is situated." "Nor I, but you must seek for it, Monseigneur." "And even if I should find it," cried Gabriel, "God would have to work a miracle for me. The dead do not speak, Aloyse." "No, the dead do not; but the living do." "Great God! what do you mean?" said Gabriel, pale as a ghost. "That you are not, as you kept calling yourself in your delirium, the Comte de Montgommery, Monseigneur, but only Vicomte de Montgommery, because your father, the Comte de Montgommery, is still living." "Heaven and earth! Do you know that he is alive, my dear father?"