THE LAST INTERVIEW.
Gaston left the conservatory, his heart bounding with joy. The enormous
weight which had oppressed him since the commencement of the conspiracy,
and which Helene's love had scarcely been able to alleviate, now seemed
to disappear as at the touch of an angel.
To dreams of vengeance, dreams both terrible and bloody, succeeded
visions of love and glory. Helene was not only a charming and a loving
woman, she was also a princess of the blood royal--one of those
divinities whose tenderness men would purchase with their hearts' blood,
if they did not, being after all weak as mortals, give this inestimable
tenderness away.
And Gaston felt revive within his breast the slumbering instinct of
ambition. What a brilliant fortune was his--one to be envied by such men
as Richelieu and Lauzun. No Louis XIV., imposing, as on Lauzun, exile or
the abandonment of his mistress--no irritated father combating the
pretensions of a simple gentleman--but, on the contrary, a powerful
friend, greedy of love, longing to prove his affection for his pure and
noble daughter. A holy emulation between the daughter and the son-in-law
to make themselves more worthy of so just a prince, so mild a conqueror.
In a quarter of an hour Gaston had gained the Rue du Bac.
The door opened before him--a cry was heard--Helene, at the window
watching for his return, had recognized the carriage, and ran joyously
to meet him.
"Saved!" cried Gaston, seeing her; "saved! my friends,
I--you--all--saved!"
"Oh, God!" cried Helene, turning pale, "you have killed him, then?"
"No, no; thank God! Oh! Helene, what a heart, what a man is this regent!
Oh, love him well, Helene; you will love him, will you not?"
"Explain yourself, Gaston."
"Come, and let us speak of ourselves; I have but a few moments to give
you, Helene; but the duke will tell you all."
"One thing before all," said Helene, "what is your fate?"
"The brightest in the world, Helene--your husband, rich and honored.
Helene, I am wild with joy."
"And you remain with me at last?"
"No, I leave you, Helene."
"Oh, heavens!"
"But to return."
"Another separation!"
"Three days at the most--three days only. I go to bring blessings on
your name, on mine, on that of our protector, our friend."
"Where are you going?"
"To Nantes!"
"To Nantes!"
"Yes. This order is the pardon of Pontcalec, Montlouis, and Talhouet and
Du Couedic. They are condemned to death, and they will owe me their
lives. Oh, do not keep me here, Helene; think of what you suffered just
now, when you were watching for me."
"And, consequently, what I am to suffer again."
"No, my Helene; for this time there is no fear, no obstacle: this time
you are sure of my return."
"Gaston, shall I never see you, but at rare intervals and for a few
minutes? Ah! Gaston, I have so much need of happiness."
"You shall be happy, Helene, be assured."
"My heart sinks."
"Ah! when you know all!"
"But tell me at once."
"Helene, the only thing wanting to my happiness is the permission to
fall at your feet and tell you all--but I have promised--nay more, I
have sworn."
"Always some secret!"
"This, at least, is a joyful one."
"Oh, Gaston, Gaston, I tremble."
"Look at me, Helene; can you fear when you see the joy that sparkles in
my eyes?"
"Why do you not take me with you, Gaston?"
"Helene!"
"I beg of you to let us go together."
"Impossible."
"Why?"
"Because, first, I must be at Nantes in twenty hours."
"I will follow you, even should I die with fatigue."
"Then, because you are no longer your own mistress; you have here a
protector, to whom you owe respect and obedience."
"The duke?"
"Yes; the duke. Oh, when you know what he has done for me--for us."
"Let us leave a letter for him, and he will forgive us."
"No, no; he will say we are ungrateful; and he would be right. No,
Helene; while I go to Bretagne, swift as a saving angel, you shall
remain here and hasten the preparations for our marriage. And when I
return I shall at once demand my wife; at your feet I shall bless you
for the happiness and the honor you bestow on me."
"You leave me, Gaston?" cried Helene, in a voice of distress.
"Oh, not thus, Helene, not thus; I cannot leave you so. Oh, no--be
joyous, Helene; smile on me; say to me--in giving me your hand--that
hand so pure and faithful--'Go, Gaston--go--for it is your duty.'"
"Yes, my friend," said Helene, "perhaps I ought to speak thus, but I
have not the strength. Oh! Gaston, forgive me."
"Oh, Helene, when I am so joyful."
"Gaston, it is beyond my power; remember that you take with you the half
of my life."
Gaston heard the clock strike three and started.
"Adieu, Helene," said he.
"Adieu," murmured she.
Once more he pressed her hand and raised it to his lips, then dashed
down the staircase toward the door.
But he heard Helene's sobs.
Rapidly he remounted the staircase and ran to her. She was standing at
the door of the room he had just left. Gaston clasped her in his arms,
and she hung weeping upon his neck.
"Oh, mon Dieu!" cried she, "you leave me again, Gaston; listen to what I
say, we shall never meet more."
"My poor Helene," cried the young man, "you are mad."
"Despair has made me so."
And her tears ran down her cheeks.
All at once she seemed to make a violent effort, and pressing her lips
on those of her lover, she clasped him tightly to her breast, then
quickly repulsing him--
"Now go, Gaston," said she, "now I can die."
Gaston replied by passionate caresses. The clock struck the half hour.
"Another half hour to make up."
"Adieu, adieu, Gaston; you are right, you should already be away."
"Adieu for a time."
"Adieu, Gaston."
And Helene returned to the pavilion. Gaston procured a horse, saddled,
mounted, and left Paris by the same gate by which he had entered some
days previously.