n Bretagne. Ah, pardieu! monseigneur, I shall be
anxious to know what you will learn that the chevalier did not tell you.
Do you not know enough yet, monseigneur? Peste! if it were me, I should
know too much."

"But it is not you, abbe."

"Alas, unfortunately not, monseigneur, for if I were the Duc d'Orleans
and regent, I would make myself cardinal. But do not let us speak of
that, it will come in time, I hope; besides, I have found a way of
managing the affair which troubles you."

"I distrust you, abbe. I warn you."

"Stay, monseigneur; you only love the chevalier because your daughter
does?"

"Well?"

"But if the chevalier repaid her fidelity by ingratitude. Mon Dieu! the
young woman is proud, monseigneur; she herself would give him up. That
would be well played, I think."

"The chevalier cease to love Helene! impossible; she is an angel."

"Many angels have gone through that, monseigneur; besides, the Bastille
does and undoes many things, and one soon becomes corrupted there,
especially in the society he will find there."

"Well, we shall see, but not a step without my consent."

"Fear nothing, monseigneur. Will you now examine the papers from
Nantes?"

"Yes, but first send me Madame Desroches."

"Certainly."

Dubois rang and gave the regent's orders.

Ten minutes after Madame Desroches entered timidly; but instead of the
storm she had expected, she received a smile and a hundred louis.

"I do not understand it," thought she; "after all, the young girl cannot
be his daughter."

CHAPTER XXII.

IN BRETAGNE.

Our readers must now permit us to look backward, for we have (in
following the principal persons of our history) neglected some others in
Bretagne, who deserve some notice; besides, if we do not represent them
as taking an active part in this tale, history is ready with her
inflexible voice to contradict us; we must, therefore, for the present,
submit to the exigencies of history.

Bretagne had, from the first, taken an active part in the movement of
the legitimated bastards; this province, which had given pledges of
fidelity to monarchical principles, and pushed them to exaggeration, if
not to madness, since it preferred the adulterous offspring of a king to
the interests of a kingdom, and since its love became a crime by calling
in aid of the pretensions of those whom it recognized as its princes,
enemies against whom Louis XIV. for sixty years, and France for two
centuries had