"But, monseigneur," said Dubois, "you are more impatient than the young man himself; you forget that if he goes thus there is some one in Paris who will think he is dead."
These words struck Gaston, and recalled to him Helene, whom he had left, expecting him from one moment to another, in the fear of some great event, and who would never forgive him should he leave Paris without seeing her. In an instant his resolution was taken; he kissed the duke's hand, took the order, and was going, when the regent said—
"Not a word to Helene of what I told you; the only recompense I ask of you is to leave me the pleasure of telling her she is my child."
"Your highness shall be obeyed," said Gaston, moved to tears, and again bowing, he hastily went out.
"This way," said Dubois; "really, you look as if you had assassinated some one, and you will be arrested; cross this grove, at the end is a path which will lead you to the street."
"Oh, thank you; you understand that delay—"
"Might be fatal. That is why," added he to himself, "I have shown you the longest way—go."
When Gaston had disappeared, Dubois returned to the regent.
"What is the matter, monseigneur?" asked he; "you seem uneasy."
"I am."