does not know what has
brought me to Paris, nor the catastrophe which threatens us, for I have
not had the courage to tell her. You will tell it to her,
monseigneur--prepare her for the event. I shall never see her again, but
to become her husband. If I were to see her again at the moment of
striking the blow which separates me from her, my hand might tremble,
and this must not be."

"On my word of honor, monsieur," said the regent, softened beyond all
expression, "I repeat, not only shall this young girl be sacred to me,
but I will do all you wish for her--she shall reap the fruits of the
respect and affection with which you have inspired me."

"Now," said Gaston, "I am strong."

"And where is this young girl?"

"Below, in the carriage which brought me. Let me retire, monseigneur,
and only tell me where she will be placed."

"Here, monsieur; this house, which is not inhabited, and which is very
suitable for a young girl, shall be hers."

"Monseigneur, your hand."

The regent held out his hand, but hearing a little dry cough, he
understood that Dubois was becoming impatient, and he indicated to
Gaston that the audience was over.

"Once more, monseigneur, watch over this young girl; she is beautiful,
amiable and proud--one of those noble natures which we meet but seldom.
Adieu, monseigneur, I go to find your secretary."

"And must I tell her that you are about to take a man's life?" asked the
regent, making one more effort to restrain Gaston.

"Yes, monseigneur," said the chevalier; "but you will add that I do it
to save France."

"Go then, monsieur," said the duke, opening a door which led into the
garden, "and follow the directions I have given you."

"Wish me good fortune, monseigneur."

"The madman," thought the regent; "does he wish me to pray for success
to his dagger's thrust? Ma foi, no!"

Gaston went out, the gravel, half-covered with snow, creaked under his
feet--the regent watched him for some time from the window of the
corridor--then, when he had lost sight of him--

"Well," said he, "each one must go his own way. Poor fellow!"

And he returned to the room, where he found Dubois, who had entered by
another door, and was waiting for him.

Dubois's face wore an expression of malicious satisfaction which did not
escape the regent, who watched him some time in silence, as if trying
to discover what was passing through the brain of this second
Mephistopheles.

Dubois was the first to spea