gestures meant one
thing while the voice declared another. 'You have good friends,' said
Herment; 'friends in good places, who are greatly interested for you.' I
naturally thought of Madame de Maine. 'Ah, monsieur,' I cried, 'have you
anything for me?' 'Hush,' said Herment. Judge how my heart beat."

Gaston felt his own beating vigorously.

"'And what have you to give me?' 'Oh, nothing myself: but you will have
the object agreed upon.' 'But what is the object? Speak!' 'The beds in
the Bastille are known to be bad, and particularly badly covered, and I
am commissioned to offer you--' 'What?' 'A coverlet.' I burst out
laughing; the devotion of my friends was shown in preventing my catching
cold. 'My dear Monsieur Herment,' said I, 'in my present position it
would be better if my friends were to occupy themselves less about my
feet and more about my head.' 'It is a female friend,' said he. 'Who is
it?' 'Mademoiselle de Charolais,' said Herment, lowering his voice, so
that I could scarcely hear him. Then he withdrew. I, my dear chevalier,
am now waiting for Mademoiselle de Charolais's coverlet. Tell this to
Dumesnil; it will make him laugh."

Gaston sighed. The gayety of those around him weighed heavily on his
heart. It was a new torture which they had invented, in forbidding him
to confide his fate to any one; it seemed to him that he should have
found consolation in the tears of his two neighbors. He had not the
courage to read the letter to Dumesnil, so he passed it on to him, and a
moment after heard shouts of laughter.

At this moment Gaston was saying adieu to Helene.

After passing a part of the night in writing, he slept; at
five-and-twenty one must sleep, even if it be just before death.

In the morning Gaston's breakfast was brought at the usual hour, but he
remarked that it was more _recherche_ than usual; he smiled at this
attention, and as he was finishing, the governor entered.

Gaston with a rapid glance interrogated his expression, which was calm
and courteous as ever. Was he also ignorant of the sentence, or was he
wearing a mask?

"Monsieur," said he, "will you take the trouble to descend to the
council-chamber?"

Gaston rose. He seemed to hear a buzzing in his ears, for to a man
condemned to death every injunction which he does not understand is a
torture.

"May I know the reason, monsieur?" asked Gaston, in so calm a tone that
it was impossible to detect his real emotion.

"To receive a vi