sit," replied the governor. "Yesterday, after the
interrogatory, did you not ask the lieutenant of police to be allowed to
see some one?"

Gaston started.

"And is it that person?" asked he.

"Yes, monsieur."

Gaston had asked for two persons; the governor only announced one; which
one was it? He had not the courage to ask, and silently followed the
governor.

De Launay led Gaston to the council-chamber; on entering, he cast an
eager glance around, but the room was empty.

"Remain here, monsieur; the person whom you expect is coming," said the
governor, who bowed and went out.

Gaston ran to the window, which was barred, and looked out--there was a
sentinel before it.

The door opened, and Gaston, turning round, faced the Duc d'Olivares.

"Ah, monsieur," cried he, "how good of you to come at the request of a
poor prisoner."

"It was a duty," replied the duke, "besides, I had to thank you."

"Me!" said Gaston, astonished; "what have I done to merit your
excellency's thanks?"

"You have been interrogated, taken to the torture-chamber, given to
understand that you might save yourself by naming your accomplices, and
yet you kept silence."

"I made an engagement and kept it: that does not deserve any thanks,
monseigneur."

"And now, monsieur, tell me if I can serve you in anything."

"First, tell me about yourself; have you been molested, monseigneur?"

"Not at all: and if all the Bretons are as discreet as you, I doubt not
that my name will never be mentioned in these unfortunate debates."

"Oh, I will answer for them as for myself, monseigneur; but can you
answer for La Jonquiere?"

"La Jonquiere!" repeated the duke.

"Yes. Do you not know that he is arrested?"

"Yes; I heard something of it."

"Well, I ask you, monseigneur, what you think of him?"

"I can tell you nothing, except that he has _my_ confidence."

"If so, he must be worthy of it, monseigneur. That is all I wished to
know."

"Then come to the request you had to make."

"Have you seen the young girl I brought to your house?"

"Mademoiselle Helene de Chaverny? Yes."

"Well, monsieur, I had not time to tell you then, but I tell you now,
that I have loved her for a year. The dream of that year has been to
consecrate my life to her happiness. I say the dream, monseigneur; for,
on awaking, I saw that all hope of happiness was denied me; and yet, to
give this young girl a name, a position, a fortune, at the moment of my
arrest, sh