"Probably," said the duke, laughing.
"Well, you must present mademoiselle to her."
"Mademoiselle!" cried the duke, astonished, and turning toward Bathilde, who till then had remained hidden in the darkness, "and who is mademoiselle?"
"A young girl who loves the Chevalier d'Harmental—who is to be executed to-morrow, as you know, and whose pardon she wishes to ask from the regent."
"You love the Chevalier d'Harmental, mademoiselle?" said the duke, addressing Bathilde.
"Oh, monsieur!" stammered Bathilde, blushing.
"Do not conceal it, mademoiselle. He is a noble young man, and I would give ten years of my own life to save him. And do you think you have any means of interesting the regent in his favor?"
"I believe so."
"It is well. I only hope it may be so. Madame," continued the duke, turning to Madame de Mouchy, "return to her royal highness and tell her that mademoiselle shall see the regent in an hour."
"Oh, M. le Duc!" cried Bathilde.