st the chimney-piece and waited.

Soon the rustling of a silk dress was heard.

"Yes, madame," said the usher, "this way."

"Here she is," said the duke, "remember one thing, Dubois: this young
girl is in no way responsible for her lover's fault; consequently,
understand me, she must be treated with the greatest respect;" then,
turning to the door, "Enter," said he; the door was hastily opened, the
young girl made a step toward the regent, who started back
thunderstruck.

"My daughter!" murmured he, endeavoring to regain his self-command,
while Helene, after looking round for Gaston, stopped and curtseyed.

Dubois's face would not be easy to depict.

"Pardon me, monseigneur," said Helene, "perhaps I am mistaken. I am
seeking a friend who left me below, who was to come back to me; but, as
he delayed so long, I came to seek for him. I was brought here, but
perhaps the usher made a mistake."

"No, mademoiselle," said the duke, "M. de Chanlay has just left me, and
I expected you."

As the regent spoke, the young girl became abstracted, and seemed as
though taxing her memory; then, in answer to her own thoughts, she
cried--

"Mon Dieu! how strange."

"What is the matter?" asked the regent.

"Yes: that it is."

"Explain!" said the duke, "I do not understand you."

"Ah! monsieur," said Helene, trembling, "it is strange how your voice
resembles that of another person."

"Of your acquaintance?" asked the regent.

"Of a person in whose presence I have been but once, but whose accents
live in my heart."

"And who was this person?" asked the regent, while Dubois shrugged his
shoulders at this half recognition.

"He called himself my father," replied Helene.

"I congratulate myself upon this chance, mademoiselle," said the regent,
"for this similarity in my voice to that of a person who is dear to you
may give greater weight to my words. You know that Monsieur de Chanlay
has chosen me for your protector?"

"He told me he would bring me to some one who would protect me from the
danger--"

"What danger?" asked the regent.

Helene looked round her, and her glance rested uneasily on Dubois, and
there was no mistaking her expression. Dubois's face inspired her with
as much distrust as the regent's did with confidence.

"Monseigneur," said Dubois (who did not fail to notice this expression),
in an undertone to the regent, "I think I am de trop here, and had
better retire; you do not want me, do you?"

"No;