"It is myself, Helene," said the young man, darting toward her, and grasping her hands.
"But how? a prisoner this morning—free, this evening?"
"I escaped, Helene."
"And then you thought of me, you ran to me, you would not fly without me. Oh! I recognize my Gaston there. Well—I am ready, take me where you will—I am yours—I am—"
"Helene," said Gaston, "you are not the bride of an ordinary man; if I had been only like all other men you would not have loved me."
"Oh, no!"
"Well, Helene, to superior souls superior duties are allotted, and consequently greater trials; before I can be yours I have to accomplish the mission on which I came to Paris; we have both a fatal destiny to fulfill. Our life or death hangs on a single event which must be accomplished to-night."
"What do you mean?" cried the young girl.
"Listen, Helene," replied Gaston, "if in four hours, that is to say, by daybreak, you have no news of me, do not expect me, believe that all that has passed between us is but a dream—and, if you can obtain permission to do so, come again and see me in the Bastille."
Helene trembled, Gaston took her back to her prie-Dieu, where she knelt.