"Yes; have you the courage to be my wife, Helene? to be exiled with me?"
"Can you ask it, Gaston?" said she, her eyes lighted with enthusiasm, "exile—I thank thee, my God—I, who would have accepted an eternal prison with you, and have thought myself blessed—I may accompany, follow you? Oh, this condemnation is, indeed, a joy after what we feared! Gaston, Gaston, at length we shall be happy."
"Yes, Helene," said Gaston, with an effort.
"Picture my happiness," cried Helene; "to me France is the country where you are; your love is the only country I desire. I know I shall have to teach you to forget Bretagne, your friends, and your dreams of the future; but I will love you, so that it will be easy for you to forget them."
Gaston could do nothing but cover her hands with kisses.
"Is the place of your exile fixed?" said she; "tell me, when do you go? shall we go together?"
"My Helene," replied Gaston, "it is impossible; we must be separated for a time. I shall be taken to the frontier of France—I do not as yet know, which—and set free. Once out of the kingdom, you shall rejoin me."
"Oh, better than that, Gaston—better than that. By means of the duke I will discover the place of your exile, and instead of joining you there, I will be there to meet you. As you step from the carriage which brings you, you shall find me waiting to soften the pain of your adieux to France; and then, death alone is irretrievable; later, the king may pardon you; later still, and the action punished to-day may be looked upon as a deed to be rewarded. Then we will return; then nothing need keep us from Bretagne, the cradle of our love, the paradise of our memories. Oh!" continued she, in an accent of mingled love and impatience, "tell me, Gaston, that you share my hopes, that you are content, that you are happy."
"Yes, Helene, I now am happy, indeed; for now—and only now—I know by what an angel I am beloved. Yes, dearest, one hour of such love as yours, and then death would be better than a whole life with the love of any other."
"Well!" exclaimed Helene, her whole mind and soul earnestly fixed on the new future which was opening before her, "what will they do? Will they let me see you again before your departure? When and how shall we meet next? Shall you receive my letters? Can you reply to them? What hour to-morrow may I come?"