"Beg her to have patience; I will attend to her presently."
Gaston renewed the signal for patience on the ceiling, and then returned to the chimney, and the Virgil soon returned.
"Monsieur," said Dumesnil, "have the goodness to fasten the Virgil to the string; that is what she wants."
Gaston had the curiosity to see if Dumesnil had replied to Mademoiselle de Launay. He opened the Virgil; there was no letter, but some words were underlined in pencil, and Gaston read: "Meos amores," and "Carceris oblivia longa." He understood this method of correspondence, which consisted in underlining words which, placed together, made sense.
"Ah," said Gaston, fastening the book to the string, "it seems that I have become the postman."
Then he sighed deeply, remembering that he had no means of corresponding with Helene, and that she was entirely ignorant what had become of him. This gave him sympathy for the attachment of Mademoiselle de Launay and the Chevalier Dumesnil. He returned to the chimney.
"Monsieur," said he, "your letter is dispatched."
"A thousand thanks, chevalier. Now a word more, and I will leave you to sleep in peace."
"Oh, say whatever you wish, monsieur."
"Have you spoken with the prisoner below?"