said Father d'Aigrigny, of all the property which may hereafter belong to me, whatever may be its value. I swear, on pain of infamy, to perform tis irrevocable promise, whose accomplishment I regard, in my soul and conscience, as the discharge of a debt, and the fulfilment of a pious duty.
'This donation having for its object the acknowledgment of past services, and the relief of the poor, no future occurrences can at all modify it. For the very reason that I know I could one day legally cancel the present free and deliberate act, I declare, that if ever I were to attempt such a thing, under any possible circumstances, I should deserve the contempt and horror of all honest people.
'In witness whereof I have written this paper, on the 13th of February, 1832, in Paris, immediately before the opening of the testament of one of my paternal ancestors.
'GABRIEL DE RENNEPONT.'
As he rose, the young priest delivered this document to Rodin, without uttering a word. The socius read it attentively, and, still impassible, answered, as he looked at Gabriel: 'Well, it is a written oath—that is all.'
Gabriel dwelt stupefied at the audacity of Rodin, who ventured to tell him, that this document, in which he renewed his donation in so noble, generous, and spontaneous a manner, was not all sufficient. The socius was the first again to break the silence, and he said to Father d'Aigrigny, with his usual cool impudence. 'One of two things must be. Either your dear son means to render his donation absolutely valuable and irrevocable,—or—'
'Sir,' exclaimed Gabriel, interrupting him, and hardly able to restrain himself, 'spare yourself and me such a shameful supposition.'
'Well, then,' resumed Rodin, impassible as ever, 'as you are perfectly decided to make this donation a serious reality, what objection can you have to secure it legally?'
'None, sir,' said Gabriel, bitterly, 'since my written and sworn promise will not suffice you.'
'My dear son,' said Father d'Aigrigny, affectionately, 'if this were a donation for my own advantage, believe me I should require no better security than your word. But here I am, as it were, the agent of the Society, or rather the trustee of the poor, who will profit by your generosity. For the sake of humanity, therefore, we cannot secure this gift by too many legal precautions, so that the unfortunate objects of our care may have certainty instead of vague hopes to depend upon. God may call you to him at any moment, and who shall say that your heirs will be so ready to keep the oath you have taken?'
'You are right, father,' said Gabriel, sadly; 'I had not thought of the case of death, which is yet so probable.'
Hereupon, Samuel opened the door of the room, and said: 'Gentlemen, the notary has just arrived. Shall I show him in? At ten o'clock precisely, the door of the house will be opened.'
'We are the more glad to see the notary,' said Rodin, 'as we just happen to have some business with him. Pray ask him to walk in.'
'I will bring him to you instantly,' replied Samuel, as he went out.
'Here is a notary,' said Rodin to Gabriel. 'If you have still the same intentions, you can legalize your donation in presence of this public officer, and thus save yourself from a great burden for the future.'
'Sir,' said Gabriel, 'happen what may, I am as irrevocably engaged by this written promise, which I beg you to keep, father'—and he handed the paper to Father d'Aigrigny 'as by the legal document, which I am about to sign,' he added, turning to Rodin.
'Silence, my dear son,' said Father d'Aigrigny; 'here is the notary,' just as the latter entered the room.
During the interview of the administrative officer with Rodin, Gabriel, and Father d'Aigrigny, we shall conduct the reader to the interior of the walled-up house.
CHAPTER XXII. THE RED ROOM.
As Samuel had said, the door of the walled-up house had just been disencumbered of the bricks, lead, and iron, which had kept it from view, and its panels of carved oak appeared as fresh and sound, as on the day when they had first been withdrawn from the influence of the air and time. The laborers, having completed their work, stood waiting upon the steps, as impatient and curious as the notary's clerk, who had superintended the operation, when they saw Samuel slowly advancing across the garden, with a great bunch of keys in his hand.
'Now, my friends,' said the old man, when he had reached the steps, 'your work is finished. The master of this gentleman will pay you, and I have only to show you out by the street door.'
'Come, come, my good fellow,' cried the clerk, 'you don't think. We are just at the most interesting and curious moment; I and these honest masons are burning to see the interior of this mysterious house, and you would be cruel enough to send us away? Impossible!'
'I regret the necessity, sir, but so it must he. I must be the first to enter this dwelling, absolutely alone, before introducing the heirs, in order to read the testament.'
'And who gave you such ridiculous and barbarous orders?' cried the clerk, singularly disappointed.
'My father, sir.'
'A most respectable authority, no doubt; but come, my worthy guardian, my excellent guardian,' resumed the clerk, 'be a good fellow, and let us just take a peep in at the door.'
'Yes, yes, sir, only a peep!' cried the heroes of the trowel, with a supplicating air.
'It is disagreeable to have to refuse you, gentlemen,' answered Samuel; 'but I cannot open this door, until I am alone.'
The masons, seeing the inflexibility of the old man, unwillingly descended the steps; but the clerk had resolved to dispute the ground inch by inch, and exclaimed: 'I shall wait for my master. I do not leave the house without him. He may want me—and whether I remain on these steps or elsewhere, can be of little consequence to you my worthy keeper.'
The clerk was interrupted in his appeal by his master himself, who called out from the further side of the courtyard, with an air of business: 'M. Piston! quick, M. Piston—come directly!'
'What the devil does he want with me?' cried the clerk, in a passion. 'He calls me just at the moment when I might have seen something.'
'M. Piston,' resumed the voice, approaching, 'do you not hear?'
While Samuel let out the masons, the clerk saw, through a clump of trees, his master running towards him bareheaded, and with an air of singular haste and importance. The clerk was therefore obliged to leave the steps, to answer the notary's summons, towards whom he went with a very bad grace.
'Sir, sir,' said M. Dumesnil, 'I have been calling you this hour with all my might.'
'I did not hear you sir,' said M. Piston.
'You must be deaf, then. Have you any change about you?'
'Yes sir,' answered the clerk, with some surprise.
'Well, then, you must go instantly to the nearest stamp-office, and fetch me three or four large sheets of stamped paper, to draw up a deed. Run! it is wanted directly.'
'Yes, sir,' said the clerk, casting a rueful and regretful glance at the door of the walled-up house.
'But make haste, will you, M. Piston,' said the notary.
'I do not know, sir, where to get any stamped paper.'
'Here is the guardian,' replied M. Dumesnil. 'He will no doubt be able to tell you.'
At this instant, Samuel was returning, after showing the masons out by the street-door.
'Sir,' said the notary to him, 'will you please to tell me where we can get stamped paper?'
'Close by, sir,' answered Samuel; 'in the tobacconist's, No. 17, Rue Vieille-du-Temple.'
'You hear, M. Piston?' said the notary to his clerk. 'You can get the stamps at the tobacconist's, No. 17, Rue Vieille-du-Temple. Be quick! for this deed must be executed immediately before the opening of the will. Time presses.'
'Very well, sir; I will make haste,' answered the clerk, discontentedly, as he followed his master, who hurried back into the room where he had left Rodin, Gabriel, and Father d'Aigrigny.
During this time, Samuel, ascending the steps, had reached the door, now disencumbered of the stone, iron, and lead with which it had been blocked up. It was with deep emotion that the old man having selected from his bunch of keys the one he wanted, inserted it in the keyhole, and made the door turn upon its hinges. Immediately he felt on his face a current of damp, cold air, like that which exhales from a cellar suddenly opened. Having carefully re-closed and double-locked the door, the Jew advanced along the hall, lighted by a glass trefoil over the arch of the door. The panes had lost their transparency by the effect of time, and now had the appearance of
