"The reason why I pardon you."
Gaston cast a retrospective glance upon the past, his sad and solitary youth, his brother's despairing death, his love for Helene, those days that seemed so long away from her, those nights that passed so quickly beneath the convent window, his journey to Paris, the duke's kindness to the young girl, and last, this unexpected clemency; but in all this he beheld nothing, he divined nothing.
"Thank Helene," said the duke, who saw that Gaston vainly sought the cause of what had happened; "thank Helene, for it is she who saves your life."
"Helene! monseigneur."
"I cannot punish my daughter's affianced husband."
"Helene, your daughter! oh, monseigneur, and I would have killed you!"
"Yes, remember what you said just now. We set out the chosen one, we return the murderer. And sometimes you see more than a murderer—a parricide—for I am almost your father," said the duke, holding out his hand to Gaston.
"Monseigneur, have mercy on me."
"You have a noble heart, Gaston."
"And you, monseigneur, are a noble prince. Henceforth, I am yours body and soul. Every drop of my blood for one tear of Helene's, for one wish of your highness's."