"I have said all I had to say," replied the regent, "since you are determined to pursue your undertaking."
"Monseigneur," said Gaston, "you seem to wish to retire."
"Have you anything more to say to me?"
"Not to-day; to-morrow, or the day after."
"You have the captain as go-between—when he gives me notice I will receive you with pleasure."
"Monseigneur," said Gaston firmly, and with a noble air, "let me speak freely. We should have no go-between; you and I—so evidently separated by rank and station—are equal before the scaffold which threatens us. I have even a superiority over you, since I run the greater danger; however, you are now, monseigneur, a conspirator, like the Chevalier de Chanlay, with this difference: that you have the right—being the chief—to see his head fall before yours—let me, then, treat as an equal with your excellency, and see you when it is necessary."
The regent thought for a moment.
"Very well," said he, "this house is not my residence; you understand I do not receive many at my house: since the war, my position is precarious and delicate in France; Cellamare is in prison at Blois; I am only a sort of consul—good as a hostage—I cannot use too many precautions."
The regent lied with a painful effort.
"Write, then, poste restante to M. Andre, you must name the time at which you wish to see me, and I will be there."