SHOWING THAT WE MUST NOT ALWAYS JUDGE OTHERS BY OURSELVES, ABOVE ALL IF
WE ARE CALLED DUBOIS.
The regent, as usual, passed the evening with Helene. He had not missed
for four or five days, and the hours he passed with her were his happy
hours, but this time he found her very much shaken by her visit to her
lover in the Bastille.
"Come," said the regent, "take courage, Helene; to-morrow you shall be
his wife."
"To-morrow is distant," replied she.
"Helene, believe in my word, which has never failed you. I tell you that
to-morrow shall dawn happily for you and for him."
Helene sighed deeply.
A servant entered and spoke to the regent.
"What is it?" asked Helene, who was alarmed at the slightest thing.
"Nothing, my child," said the duke; "it is only my secretary, who wishes
to see me on some pressing business."
"Shall I leave you?"
"Yes; do me that favor for an instant."
Helene withdrew into her room.
At the same time the door opened and Dubois entered, out of breath.
"Where do you come from in such a state?"
"Parbleu! from the Bastille."
"And our prisoner?"
"Well."
"Is everything arranged for the marriage."
"Yes, everything but the hour, which you did not name."
"Let us say eight in the morning."
"At eight in the morning," said Dubois, calculating.
"Yes, what are you calculating?"
"I am thinking where he will be."
"Who?"
"The prisoner."
"What! the prisoner!"
"Yes; at eight o'clock he will be forty leagues from Paris!"
"From Paris!"
"Yes; if he continues to go at the pace at which I saw him set out."
"What do you mean?"
"I mean, monseigneur, that there will be one thing only wanting at the
marriage; the husband."
"Gaston?"
"Has escaped from the Bastille half-an-hour ago."
"You lie, abbe; people do not escape from the Bastille."
"I beg your pardon, monseigneur; people escape from any place when they
are condemned to death."
"He escaped, knowing that to-morrow he was to wed her whom he loved?"
"Listen, monseigneur, life is a charming thing, and we all cling to it;
then your son-in-law has a charming head which he wishes to keep on his
shoulders--what more natural?"
"And where is he?"
"Perhaps I may be able to tell you to-morrow evening; at present, all I
know is that he is at some distance, and that I will answer for it he
will not return."
The regent became deeply thoughtful.
"Really, monseigneur, your naivete causes me perpetual astonishment; you
must be strangely ignorant of the human heart if you suppose that a man
condemned to death would remain in prison when he had a chance of
escape."
"Oh! Monsieur de Chanlay!" cried the regent.
"Eh, mon Dieu! this chevalier has acted as the commonest workman would
have done, and quite right too."
"Dubois! and my daughter?"
"Well, your daughter, monseigneur?"
"It will kill her," said the regent.
"Oh no, monseigneur, not at all; when she finds out what he is, she will
be consoled, and you can marry her to some small German or Italian
prince--to the Duke of Modena, for instance, whom Mademoiselle de Valois
will not have."
"Dubois! and I meant to pardon him."
"He has done it for himself, monseigneur, thinking it safer, and ma foi!
I should have done the same."
"Oh you; you are not noble, you had not taken an oath."
"You mistake, monseigneur; I had taken an oath, to prevent your highness
from committing a folly, and I have succeeded."
"Well, well, let us speak of it no more, not a word of this before
Helene--I will undertake to tell her."
"And I, to get back your son-in-law."
"No, no, he has escaped, let him profit by it."
As the regent spoke these words a noise was heard in the neighboring
room, and a servant entering, hurriedly announced--
"Monsieur Gaston de Chanlay."
Dubois turned pale as death, and his face assumed an expression of
threatening anger. The regent rose in a transport of joy, which brought
a bright color into his face--there was as much pleasure in this face,
rendered sublime by confidence, as there was compressed fury in
Dubois's sharp and malignant countenance.
[Illustration: THE REGENT.--Page 544.]
"Let him enter," said the regent.
"At least, give me time to go," said Dubois.
"Ah! yes, he would recognize you."
Dubois retired with a growling noise, like a hyena disturbed in its
feast, or in its lair; he entered the next room. There he sat down by a
table on which was every material for writing, and this seemed to
suggest some new and terrible idea, for his face suddenly lighted up.
He rang.
"Send for the portfolio which is in my carriage," said he to the servant
who appeared.
This order being executed at once, Dubois seized some papers, wrote on
them some words with an expression of sinister joy, then, having ordered
his carriage, drove to the Palais Royal.
Meanwhile the chevalier was led to the regent, and walked straight up to
him.
"How! you here, monsieur!" said the duke, trying to look surprised.
"Yes, monseigneur, a miracle has been worked in my favor by La
Jonquiere; he had prepared all for flight, he asked for me under
pretense of consulting me as to confessions; then, when we were alone,
he told me all and we escaped together and in safety."
"And instead of flying, monsieur, gaining the frontier, and placing
yourself in safety, you are here at the peril of your life."
"Monseigneur," said Gaston, blushing, "I must confess that for a moment
liberty seemed to me the most precious and the sweetest thing the world
could afford. The first breath of air I drew seemed to intoxicate me,
but I soon reflected."
"On one thing, monsieur?"
"On two, monseigneur."
"You thought of Helene, whom you were abandoning."
"And of my companions, whom I left under the ax."
"And then you decided?"
"That I was bound to their cause till our projects were accomplished."
"Our projects!"
"Yes, are they not yours as well as mine?"
"Listen, monsieur," said the regent; "I believe that man must keep
within the limits of his strength. There are things which God seems to
forbid him to execute; there are warnings which tell him to renounce
certain projects. I believe that it is sacrilege to despise these
warnings, to remain deaf to this voice; our projects have miscarried,
monsieur, let us think no more of them."
"On the contrary, monseigneur," said Gaston, sadly shaking his head,
"let us think of them more than ever."
"But you are furious, monsieur," said the regent, "to persist in an
undertaking which has now become so difficult that it is almost
madness."
"I think, monseigneur, of our friends arrested, tried, condemned; M.
d'Argenson told me so; of our friends who are destined to the scaffold,
and who can be saved only by the death of the regent; of our friends who
would say, if I were to leave France, that I purchased my safety by
their ruin, and that the gates of the Bastille were opened by my
revelations."
"Then, monsieur, to this point of honor you sacrifice everything, even
Helene?"
"Monseigneur, if they be still alive I must save them."
"But if they be dead?"
"Then it is another thing," replied Gaston; "then I must revenge them."
"Really, monsieur," said the duke, "this seems to me a somewhat
exaggerated idea of heroism. It seems to me that you have, in your own
person, already paid your share. Believe me, take the word of a man who
is a good judge in affairs of honor; you are absolved in the eyes of the
whole world, my dear Brutus."
"I am not in my own, monseigneur."
"Then you persist?"
"More than ever; the regent must die, and," added he in a hollow voice,
"die he shall."
"But do you not first wish to see Mademoiselle de Chaverny?" asked the
regent.
"Yes, monseigneur, but first I must have your promise to aid me in my
project. Remember, monseigneur; there is not an instant to lose; my
companions are condemned, as I was. Tell me at once, before I see
Helene, that you will not abandon me. Let me make a new engagement with
you--I am a man; I love, and therefore I am weak. I shall have to
struggle against her tears and against my own weakness; monseigneur, I
will only see Helene under the condition that you will enable me to see
the regent."
"And if I refuse that condition?"
"Then, monseigneur, I will not see Helene; I am dead to her; it is
useless to renew hope in her which she must lose again, it is enough
that she must weep for me once."
"And you would still persist?"
"Yes, but with less chance."
"Then what would you do?"
"Wait for the regent wherever he goes, and strike him whenever I can
find him."
"Think once more," said the duke.
"By the honor of my name," replied Gaston, "I once more implore your
aid, or I declare that I will find means to dispense with it."
"Well, monsieur, go and see Helene, and you shall have my answer on your
return."
"Where?"
"In that room."
"And the answer shall be according to my desire?"
"Yes."
Gaston went into Helene's room; she was kneeling before a crucifix,
praying that her lover might be restored to her. At the noise which
Gaston made in opening the door she turned round.
Believing that God had worked a miracle, and uttering a cry, she held
out her arms toward the chevalier, but without the strength to raise
herself.
"Oh, mon Dieu! is it himself? is it his shade?"
"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.
Then, kissing her on the forehead as a brother might have done--"Pray
on, Helene;" said he, "for in praying for me you pray also for Bretagne
and for France." Then he rushed out of the room.
"Alas! alas!" murmured Helene, "save _him_, my God! and what care I for
the rest of the world."
Gaston was met by a servant who gave him a note, telling him the duke
was gone.
The note was as follows:
"There is a bal masque to-night at Monceaux; the regent
will be there. He generally retires toward one o'clock
in the morning into a favorite conservatory, which is
situated at the end of the gilded gallery. No one
enters there ordinarily but himself, because this habit
of his is known and respected. The regent will be
dressed in a black velvet domino, on the left arm of
which is embroidered a golden bee. He hides this sign
in a fold when he wishes to remain incognito. The card
I inclose is an ambassador's ticket. With this you
will be admitted, not only to the ball, but to this
conservatory, where you will appear to seek a private
interview. Use it for your encounter with the regent.
My carriage is below, in which you will find my own
domino. The coachman is at your orders."
On reading this note, which, as it were, brought him face to face with
the man he meant to assassinate, a cold perspiration passed over
Gaston's forehead, and he was obliged for a moment to lean against a
chair for support; but suddenly, as if taking a violent resolution, he
darted down the staircase, jumped into the carriage, and cried--
"To Monceaux!"
Scarcely had he quitted the room, when a secret door in the woodwork
opened, and the duke entered. He went to Helene's door, who uttered a
cry of delight at seeing him.
"Well," said the regent sadly, "are you content, Helene?"
"Oh! it is you, monseigneur?"
"You see, my child, that my predictions are fulfilled--believe me when I
say, 'Hope.'"
"Ah! monseigneur, are you then an angel come down to earth to stand to
me in the place of the father whom I have lost?"
"Alas," said the regent, smiling. "I am not an angel, my dear Helene;
but such as I am, I will indeed be to you a father, and a tender one."
Saying this, the regent took Helene's hand, and was about to kiss it
respectfully, but she raised her head and presented her forehead to him.
"I see that you love him truly," said he.
"Monseigneur, I bless you."
"May your blessing bring me happiness," said the regent, then, going
down to his carriage--
"To the Palais Royal," said he, "but remember you have only a quarter of
an hour to drive to Monceaux."
The horses flew along the road.
As the carriage entered under the peristyle, a courier on horseback was
setting out.
Dubois, having seen him start, closed the window and went back to his
apartments.