CHAPTER XI.
RAMBOUILLET AGAIN.
At the appointed hour Gaston presented himself at Helene's domicile, butMadame Desroches made some difficulty about admitting him; Helene,however, said firmly that she was quite at liberty to judge for herselfwhat was right, and that she was quite determined to see M. de Livry,who had come to take leave of her. It will be remembered that this wasthe name which Gaston had assumed during the journey, and which heintended to retain, except when with those connected with his mission toParis.
Madame Desroches went to her room somewhat out of humor, and evenattempted to overhear the conversation, but Helene bolted the outerdoor.
"Ah, Gaston," said she, "I have been expecting you. I did not sleep lastnight."
"Nor I, Helene; but I must admire all this splendor."
Helene smiled.
"And your head-dress--how beautiful you are, like this."
"You do not appear much pleased."
Gaston made no reply, but continued his investigations.
"These rich hangings, these costly pictures, all prove that yourprotectors are opulent, Helene."
"I believe so," said Helene, smiling, "yet I am told that thesehangings, and this gilding, which you admire, are old and unfashionable,and must be replaced by new."
"Ah, Helene, you will become a great lady," said Gaston, sighing;"already I am kept waiting for an audience."
"My dear Gaston, did you not wait for hours in your little boat on thelake?"
"You were then in the convent. I waited the abbess's pleasure."
"That title is sacred, is it not?"
"Yes."
"It gives security, imposes respect and obedience."
"Doubtless."
"Well, judge of my delight. Here I find the same protection, the samelove, only more powerful, more lasting."
"What!" exclaimed Gaston, surprised.
"I find--"
"Speak, in Heaven's name."
"Gaston, I have found a father."
"A father--ah, my dear Helene, I share your joy; what happiness! afather to watch over my Helene, my wife!"
"To watch from afar."
"Is he separated from you?"
"Alas, it seems the world separates us."
"Is it a secret?"
"A secret even to me, or you may be sure you should know all. I have nosecrets from you, Gaston."
"A misfortune of birth--a prescription in your family--some temporaryobstacle?"----"I do not know."
"Decidedly, it is a secret; but," said he, smiling, "I permit you to bediscreet with me, if your father ordered it. However, may I ask somemore questions?"
"Oh, yes."
"Are you pleased? Is your father one you can be proud of?"
"I think so, his heart seems noble and good. His voice is sweet andmelodious."
"His voice! but is he like you?"
"I do not know. I have not seen him."
"Not seen him?"
"No, it was dark."
"Your father did not wish to see his daughter; and you so beautiful; oh,what indifference!"
"No, Gaston, he is not indifferent; he knows me well; he has myportrait--that portrait which made you so jealous last spring."
"But I do not understand this."
"It was dark, I tell you."
"In that case one might light these girandoles," said Gaston.
"That is well, when one wishes to be seen; but when one has reasons forconcealment--"
"What!" interrupted Gaston; "what reason can a father have for hidingfrom his own daughter?"
"Excellent reasons, I believe, and you should understand them betterthan I can."
"Oh, Helene!" said Gaston, "with what terrible ideas you fill my mind."
"You alarm me, Gaston!"
"Tell me--what did your father speak of!"
"Of his deep love for me."
Gaston started.
"He swore to me that in future I should be happy; that there should beno more uncertainty as to my fate, for that he would despise all thoseconsiderations which had induced him as yet to disown me as a daughter."
"Words, words; but what proof did he give you? Pardon me thesequestions, Helene. I dread misfortune. I wish that for a time yourangel's innocence could give place to the sharpness and infernalsagacity of a fiend; you would then understand me. I should not need tosubject you to this interrogatory, which now is so necessary."
"I do not understand your question, Gaston. I do not know how to replyto you."
"Did he show you much affection?"
"Yes."
"But in the darkness, when he wished to speak to you?"
"He took my hand, and his trembled the most."
Gaston clenched his hands with rage.
"He embraced you paternally, did he not?"
"He gave me a single kiss on the forehead, which I received on myknees."
"Helene!" he cried, "my fears were not groundless; you are betrayed--youare the victim of a snare. Helene, this man who conceals himself, whofears the light, who calls you his child, is not your father."
"Gaston, you distress me."
"Helene, angels might envy your innocence; but on earth all is abused,even angels are insulted, profaned, by men. This man, whom I will know,whom I will seize and force to have confidence in your love and honor,shall tell me--if he be not the vilest of beings--whether I am to callhim father, or kill him as a wretch!"
"Gaston, your brain is wandering; what can lead you to suspect suchtreachery? And, since you arouse my suspicions, since you hold a lightover those ignoble labyrinths of the human heart which I refused tocontemplate, I will speak to you with the same freedom. Was I not inthis man's power? Is not this house his? Are not the people by whom I amsurrounded devoted to his orders? Gaston, if you love me, you will askmy pardon for what you have thought and said of my father."
Gaston was in despair.
"Do not destroy one of the purest and holiest joys I have ever tasted.Do not poison the happiness of a life which I have often wept to thinkwas solitary and abandoned, without other affection than that of whichHeaven forbids us to be lavish. Let my filial ties compensate for theremorse which I sometimes feel for loving you almost to idolatry."
"Helene, forgive me," cried Gaston. "Yes, you are right; I sully yourpure joys by my contact, and it may be the noble affection of yourfather, but in Heaven's name, Helene, give some heed to the fears of myexperience and my love. Criminal passions often speculate on innocentcredulity. The argument you use is weak. To show at once a guilty lovewould be unlike a skillful corrupter; but to win you by a novel luxurypleasing to your age, to accustom you gradually to new impressions, towin you at last by persuasion, is a sweeter victory than that ofviolence. Helene, listen to my prudence of five-and-twenty years--I saymy prudence, for it is my love that speaks, that love which you shouldsee so humble, so devoted, so ready to accept a father whom I knew to bereally your parent."
Helene made no answer.
"I implore you," continued Gaston, "not to take any determination now,but to watch everything around you. Suspect the perfumes which are givenyou, the wine which you are offered--everything, Helene. Watch overyourself, you are my happiness, my honor, my life."
"My friend, I will obey you; this will not keep me from loving myfather."
"Adore him, Helene, if I am wrong."
"You are a noble friend, Gaston. We are agreed then?"
"At the slightest suspicion write to me."
"Write! You leave me then?"
"I must go to Paris on business. I shall be at the hotel Muids d'Amour,Rue des Bourdonnais. Write down this address, and do not show it to anyone."
"Why so many precautions?"
Gaston hesitated.
"Because, if your devoted protector were known, his plans for aiding youmight be frustrated in case of bad intentions."
"You are somewhat mysterious, Gaston. I have a father who concealshimself, and a lover--this word I can hardly speak--who is going to doth
e same."
"But my intentions, you know," said Gaston, attempting to force a laugh.
"Ah, Madame Desroches is coming back. She thinks our interview too long.I am as much under tutelage as at the convent."
Gaston imprinted a kiss on the hand Helene held out to him. As MadameDesroches approached, Helene made a formal curtsey, which Gastonreturned by an equally formal bow.
Gaston left for Paris. Owen awaited him with impatience, and this timecould not reproach his master with being slow, for in three hours theywere in Paris.
Une fille du régent. English Page 12