but," said he, smiling, "I permit you to be
discreet with me, if your father ordered it. However, may I ask some
more 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 and
melodious."

"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 my
portrait--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 for
concealment--"

"What!" interrupted Gaston; "what reason can a father have for hiding
from his own daughter?"

"Excellent reasons, I believe, and you should understand them better
than 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 be
no more uncertainty as to my fate, for that he would despise all those
considerations which had induced him as yet to disown me as a daughter."

"Words, words; but what proof did he give you? Pardon me these
questions, Helene. I dread misfortune. I wish that for a time your
angel's innocence could give place to the sharpness and infernal
sagacity of a fiend; you would then understand me. I should not need to
subject you to this interrogatory, which now is so necessary."

"I do not understand your question, Gaston. I do not know how to reply
to 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 my
knees."

"Helene!" he cried, "my fears were not groundless; you are betrayed--you
are the victim of a snare. Helene, this man who conceals himself, who
fears the light, who calls you his child, is not your father."

"Gaston, you distress me."

"Helene, angels might envy your innocence; but on earth al