sat down and fell into a deep reverie.

"I am waiting, monseigneur," said Dubois, in a few minutes.

"Abbe," said the regent, in a quick decided tone, as of a man determined
to be answered, "is the chevalier in the Bastille?"

"Monseigneur," replied Dubois, "he must have been there about half an
hour."

"Then write to M. de Launay. I desire that he be set free at once."

Dubois did not seem surprised; he made no reply, but he placed the
portfolio on the table, opened it, took out some papers, and began to
look over them quietly.

"Did you hear me?" asked the regent, after a moment's silence.

"I did, monseigneur."

"Obey, then."

"Write yourself, monseigneur," said Dubois.

"And why?"

"Because nothing shall induce this hand to sign your highness's ruin,"
said Dubois.

"More words," said the regent, impatiently.

"Not words, but facts, monseigneur. Is M. de Chanlay a conspirator, or
is he not?"

"Yes, certainly! but my daughter loves him."

"A fine reason for setting him at liberty."

"It may not be a reason to you, abbe, but to me it is, and a most sacred
one. He shall leave the Bastille at once."

"Go and fetch him, then; I do not prevent you."

"And did you know this secret?"

"Which?"

"That M. de Livry and the chevalier were the same?"

"Yes, I knew it. What, then?"

"You wished to deceive me."

"I wished to save you from the sentimentality in which you are lost at
this moment. The regent of France--already too much occupied by whims
and pleasures--must make things worse by adding passion to the list. And
what a passion! Paternal love, dangerous love--an ordinary love may be
satisfied, and then dies away--but a father's tenderness is insatiable,
and above all, intolerable. It will cause your highness to commit faults
which I shall prevent, for the simple reason that I am happy enough not
to be a father; a thing on which I congratulate myself daily, when I see
the misfortunes and stupidity of those who are."

"And what matters a head more or less?" cried the regent. "This De
Chanlay will not kill me, when he knows it was I who liberated him."

"No; neither will he die from a few days in the Bastille; and there he
must stay."

"And I tell you he shall leave it to-day."

"He must, for his own honor," said Dubois, as though the regent had not
spoken; "for if he were to leave the Bastille to-day, as you wish, he
would appear to his accomplices, who are now in the prison at Nantes,
a