'They will be as good as a ladder, to reach the upstairs window. But now to think of you madame.'
'Think only of the dear orphans. Time presses. Provided they are delivered to-night, it makes little difference to me to remain a day or two longer in this house.'
'No, mademoiselle,' cried the smith, 'it is of the first importance that you should leave this place to-night. Interests are concerned, of which you know nothing. I am now sure of it.'
'What do you mean?'
'I have not time to explain myself further; but I conjure you madame, to come. I can wrench out two of these bars; I will fetch a piece of iron.'
'It is not necessary. They are satisfied with locking the outer door of this building, which I inhabit alone. You can easily break open the lock.'
'And, in ten minutes, we shall be on the boulevard,' said the smith. 'Make yourself ready, madame; take a shawl, a bonnet, for the night is cold. I will return instantly.'
'M. Agricola,' said Adrienne, with tears in her eyes, 'I know what you risk for my sake. I shall prove to you, I hope, that I have as good a memory as you have. You and your adopted sister are noble and valiant creatures, and I am proud to be indebted to you. But do not return for me till the daughters of Marshal Simon are in safety.'
'Thanks to your directions, the thing will be done directly, madame. I fly to rejoin my father, and we will come together to fetch you.'
Following the excellent advice of Mdlle. de Cardoville, Agricola took one of the long, strong poles that rested against the wall of the chapel, and, bearing it on his robust shoulders, hastened to rejoin his father. Hardly had Agricola passed the fence, to direct his steps towards the chapel, obscured in shadow, than Mdlle. de Cardoville thought she perceived a human form issue from one of the clumps of trees in the convent-garden, cross the path hastily, and disappear behind a high hedge of box. Alarmed at the sight, Adrienne in vain called to Agricola in a low voice, to bid him beware. He could not hear her; he had already rejoined his father, who, devoured by impatience, went from window to window with ever-increasing anguish.
'We are saved,' whispered Agricola. 'Those are the windows of the poor children—one on the ground floor, the other on the first story.'
'At last!' said Dagobert, with a burst of joy impossible to describe. He ran to examine the windows. 'They are not grated!' he exclaimed.
'Let us make sure, that one of them is there,' said Agricola; 'then, by placing this pole against the wall, I will climb up to the first story, which is not so very high.'
'Right, my boy!—once there, tap at the window, and call Rose or Blanche. When she answers, come down. We will rest the pole against the window, and the poor child will slide along it. They are bold and active. Quick, quick! to work!'
'And then we will deliver Mdlle. de Cardoville.'
Whilst Agricola placed his pole against the wall, and prepares to mount, Dagobert tapped at the panes of the last window on the ground floor, and said aloud: 'It is I—Dagobert.'
Rose Simon indeed occupied the chamber. The unhappy child, in despair at being separated from her sister, was a prey to a burning fever, and, unable to sleep, watered her pillow with her tears. At the sound of the tapping on the glass, she started up affrighted, then, hearing the voice of the soldier—that voice so familiar and so dear— she sat up in bed, pressed her hands across her forehead, to assure herself that she was not the plaything of a dream, and, wrapped in her long night-dress, ran to the window with a cry of joy. But suddenly—and before she could open the casement—two reports of fire-arms were heard, accompanied by loud cries of 'Help! thieves!'
The orphan stood petrified with terror, her eyes mechanically fixed upon the window, through which she saw confusedly, by the light of the moon, several men engaged in a mortal struggle, whilst the furious barking of Spoil- sport was heard above all the incessant cries of 'Help! Help! Thieves! Murder!'
BOOK V.
XIV. The Eve of a Great Day XV. The Thug XVI. The Two
Brothers of the Good Work XVII. The House in the Rue Saint-
Francois XVIII. Debit and Credit XIX. The Heir XX. The
Rupture XXI. The Change XXII. The Red Room XXIII. The
Testament XXIV. The Last Stroke of Noon XXV. The Deed of
Gift
CHAPTER XIV. THE EVE OF A GREAT DAY.
About two hours before the event last related took place at St. Mary's Convent, Rodin and Abbe d'Aigrigny met in the room where we have already seen them, in the Rue du Milieu-des-Ursins. Since the Revolution of July, Father d'Aigrigny had thought proper to remove for the moment to this temporary habitation all the secret archives and correspondence of his Order—a prudent measure, since he had every reason to fear that the reverend fathers would be expelled by the state from that magnificent establishment, with which the restoration had so liberally endowed their society. (11)
Rodin, dressed in his usual sordid style, mean and dirty as ever, was writing modestly at his desk, faithful to his humble part of secretary, which concealed, as we have already seen a far more important office—that of Socius—a function which, according to the constitutions of the Order, consists in never quitting his superior, watching his least actions, spying into his very thoughts, and reporting all to Rome.
In spite of his usual impassibility, Rodin appeared visibly uneasy and absent in mind; he answered even more briefly than usual to the commands and questions of Father d'Aigrigny, who had but just entered the room.
'Has anything new occurred during my absence?' asked he. 'Are the reports still favorable?'
'Very favorable.'
'Read them to me.'
'Before giving this account to your reverence,' said Rodin, 'I must inform you that Morok has been two days in Paris.'
'Morok?' said Abbe d'Aigrigny, with surprise. 'I thought, on leaving Germany and Switzerland, he had received from Friburg the order to proceed southward. At Nismes, or Avignon, he would at this moment be useful as an agent; for the Protestants begin to move, and we fear a reaction against the Catholics.'
'I do not know,' said Rodin, 'if Morok may not have had private reasons for changing his route. His ostensible reasons are, that he comes here to give performances.'
'How so?'
'A dramatic agent, passing through Lyons, engaged him and his menagerie for the Port Saint-Martin Theatre at a very high price. He says that he did not like to refuse such an offer.'
'Well,' said Father d'Aigrigny, shrugging his shoulders, 'but by distributing his little books, and selling prints and chaplets, as well as by the influence he would certainly exercise over the pious and ignorant people of the South or of Brittany, he might render services, such as he can never perform in Paris.'
'He is now below, with a kind of giant, who travels about with him. In his capacity of your reverence's old servant, Morok hoped to have the honor of kissing your hand this evening.'
'Impossible—impossible—you know how much I am occupied. Have you sent to the Rue Saint-Francois?'
'Yes, I have. The old Jew guardian has had notice from the notary. To morrow, at six in the morning, the masons will unwall the door, and, for the first time since one hundred and fifty years, the house will be opened.'
Father d'Aigrigny remained in thought for a moment, and then said to Rodin: 'On the eve of such a decisive day, we must neglect nothing, and call every circumstance to memory. Read me the copy of the note, inserted in the archives of the society, a century and a half ago, on the subject of Rennepont.'
The secretary took the note from the case, and read as follows:
