and our plans would be
disconcerted; no, no, these plans must hatch."

"Hatch what, monseigneur?" said Tapin, who appeared to be on
confidential terms with Dubois.

"My archbishop's miter, M. Lecocq," said Dubois, "and now to your work;
I go to mine."

Both left the room and descended the staircase, but separated at the
door; Lecocq went along the Rue de Paris; and Dubois, slipping along by
the wall, went to peep through the hole in the shutter.

CHAPTER VIII.

THE UTILITY OF A SEAL.

Gaston had just supped; for at his age, whether a man be in despair or
in love, nature asserts her rights. He was leaning on the table
thoughtfully. The lamp threw a light over his face, and enabled Dubois
to gratify his curiosity.

He looked at him with an attention almost alarming: his quick eye
darted--his lip curled with a smile, which gave one the idea of a demon
smiling at the sight of one of those victims who seem to have vowed
their own perdition.

While looking, he murmured, "Young, handsome, black eyes, proud lips--he
is a Breton, he is not corrupted, like the conspirators of Cellamare,
by the soft glances of the ladies at court;--then the other spoke of
carrying off, dethroning, but this one--_diable_, this one; and yet,"
continued he, after a pause, "I look in vain for traces of cunning on
that open brow. I see no Machiavelism in the corners of that mouth, so
full of loyalty and honor; yet no doubt all is arranged to surprise the
regent on his visit to this Clisson demoiselle. Who will say again that
Bretons have dull brains?

"No," said Dubois, after another pause, "it cannot be so. It is
impossible that this young man with his calm sad face should be ready in
a quarter of an hour to kill a man, and that man the first prince of the
blood. No, I cannot believe in such sang-froid; and yet the regent has
kept this amourette secret even from me; he goes out to hunt at St.
Germains, announces aloud that he shall sleep at the Palais Royal, then
all at once gives counter orders, and drives to Rambouillet. At
Rambouillet, the young girl waits, and is received by Madame Desroches;
who can she be watching for, if not for the regent? and this young girl
is the mistress of the chevalier--but is she?--Ah! we must learn. We
must find out how far we can depend on Owen," and Dubois left his
observatory and waited on the staircase--he was quite hidden in the
shade, and he could see Gaston's door in the light.

The door p