house, and in devoting yourself to the service of other persons of my family, you have shown me marks of interest which I cannot forget without ingratitude. You have lost a humble but secure situation. Permit me—'
'Not a word more, my dear young lady,' said Rodin, interrupting Mdlle. de Cardoville, with an air of chagrin. 'I feel for you the deepest sympathy; I am honored by having ideas in common with you; I believe firmly that some day you will have to ask advice of the poor old philosopher; and, precisely because of all that, I must and ought to maintain towards you the most complete independence.'
'But, sir, it is I that would be the obliged party, if you deigned to accept what I offer.'
'Oh, my dear young lady,' said Rodin, with a smile: 'I know that your generosity would always know how to make gratitude light and easy; but, once more, I cannot accept anything from you. One day, perhaps, you will know why.'
'One day?'
'It is impossible for me to tell you more. And then, supposing I were under an obligation to you, how could I tell you all that was good and beautiful in your actions? Hereafter, if you are somewhat indebted to me for my advice, so much the better; I shall be the more ready to blame you, if I find anything to blame.'
'In this way, sir, you would forbid me to be grateful to you.'
'No, no,' said Rodin, with apparent emotion. 'Oh, believe me! there will come a solemn moment, in which you may repay all, in a manner worthy of yourself and me.'
This conversation was here interrupted by the nurse, who said to Adrienne as she entered: 'Madame, there is a little humpback workwoman downstairs, who wishes to speak to you. As, according to the doctor's new orders, you are to do as you like, I have come to ask, if I am to bring her up to you. She is so badly dressed, that I did not venture.'
'Bring her up, by all means,' said Adrienne, hastily, for she had recognized Mother Bunch by the nurse's description. 'Bring her up directly.'
'The doctor has also left word, that his carriage is to be at your orders, madame; are the horses to be put to?'
'Yes, in a quarter of an hour,' answered Adrienne to the nurse, who went out; then, addressing Rodin, she continued: 'I do not think the magistrate can now be long, before he returns with Marshal Simon's daughters?'
'I think not, my dear young lady; but who is this deformed workwoman?' asked Rodin, with an air of indifference.
'The adopted sister of a gallant fellow, who risked all in endeavoring to rescue me from this house. And, sir,' said Adrienne, with emotion, 'this young workwoman is a rare and excellent creature. Never was a nobler mind, a more generous heart, concealed beneath an exterior less—'
But reflecting, that Rodin seemed to unite in his own person the same moral and physical contrasts as the sewing-girl, Adrienne stopped short, and then added, with inimitable grace, as she looked at the Jesuit, who was somewhat astonished at the sudden pause: 'No; this noble girl is not the only person who proves how loftiness of soul, and superiority of mind, can make us indifferent to the vain advantages which belong only to the accidents of birth or fortune.' At the moment of Adrienne speaking these last words, Mother Bunch entered the room.
CHAPTER XXXVI. SUSPICIONS.
Mdlle. de Cardoville sprang hastily to meet the visitor, and said to her, in a voice of emotion, as she extended her arms towards her: 'Come—come—there is no grating to separate us now!'
On this allusion, which reminded her how her poor, laborious hand had been respectfully kissed by the fair and rich patrician, the young workwoman felt a sentiment of gratitude, which was at once ineffable and proud. But, as she hesitated to respond to the cordial reception, Adrienne embraced her with touching affection. When Mother Bunch found herself clasped in the fair arms of Mdlle. de Cardoville, when she felt the fresh and rosy lips of the young lady fraternally pressed to her own pale and sickly cheek, she burst into tears without being able to utter a word. Rodin, retired in a corner of the chamber, locked on this scene with secret uneasiness. Informed of the refusal, so full of dignity, which Mother Bunch had opposed to the perfidious temptations of the superior of St. Mary's Convent, and knowing the deep devotion of this generous creature for Agricola—a devotion which for some days she had so bravely extended to Mdlle. de Cardoville—the Jesuit did not like to see the latter thus laboring to increase that affection. He thought, wisely, that one should never despise friend or enemy, however small they may appear. Now, devotion to Mdlle. de Cardoville constituted an enemy in his eyes; and we know, moreover, that Rodin combined in his character rare firmness, with a certain degree of superstitious weakness, and he now felt uneasy at the singular impression of fear which Mother Bunch inspired in him. He determined to recollect this presentiment.
Delicate natures sometimes display in the smallest things the most charming instincts of grace and goodness. Thus, when the sewing-girl was shedding abundant and sweet tears of gratitude, Adrienne took a richly embroidered handkerchief, and dried the pale and melancholy face. This action, so simple and spontaneous, spared the work-girl one humiliation; for, alas! humiliation and suffering are the two gulfs, along the edge of which misfortune continually passes. Therefore, the least kindness is in general a double benefit to the unfortunate. Perhaps the reader may smile in disdain at the puerile circumstance we mention. But poor Mother Bunch, not venturing to take from her pocket her old ragged handkerchief, would long have remained blinded by her tears, if Mdlle. de Cardoville had not come to her aid.
'Oh! you are so good—so nobly charitable, lady!' was all that the sempstress could say, in a tone of deep emotion; for she was still more touched by the attention of the young lady, than she would perhaps have been by a service rendered.
'Look there, sir,' said Adrienne to Rodin, who drew near hastily. 'Yes,' added the young patrician, proudly, 'I have indeed discovered a treasure. Look at her, sir; and love her as I love her, honor as I honor. She has one of those hearts for which we are seeking.'
'And which, thank heaven, we are still able to find, my dear young lady!' said Rodin, as he bowed to the needle-woman.
The latter raised her eyes slowly, and locked at the Jesuit. At sight of that cadaverous countenance, which was smiling benignantly upon her, the young girl started. It was strange! she had never seen this man, and yet she felt instantly the same fear and repulsion that he had felt with regard to her. Generally timid and confused, the work-girl could not withdraw her eyes from Rodin's; her heart beat violently, as at the coming of some great danger, and, as the excellent creature feared only for those she loved, she approached Adrienne involuntarily, keeping her eyes fixed on Rodin. The Jesuit was too good a physiognomist not to perceive the formidable impression he had made, and he felt an increase of his instinctive aversion for the sempstress. Instead of casting down his eyes, he appeared to examine her with such sustained attention, that Mdlle. de Cardoville was astonished at it.
'I beg your pardon, my dear girl,' said Rodin, as if recalling his recollections, and addressing himself to Mother Bunch, 'I beg your pardon—but I think—if I am not deceived—did you not go a few days since to St. Mary's Convent, hard by?'
'Yes, sir.'
'No doubt, it was you. Where then was my head?' cried Rodin. 'It was you—I should have guessed it sooner.'
'Of what do you speak, sir?' asked Adrienne.
'Oh! you are right, my dear young lady,' said Rodin, pointing to the hunchback. 'She has indeed a noble heart, such as we seek. If you knew with what dignity, with what courage this poor girl, who was out of work and, for her, to want work is to want everything—if you knew, I say, with what dignity she rejected the shameful wages that the superior of the convent was unprincipled enough to offer, on condition of her acting as a spy in a family where it was proposed to place her.'
'Oh, that is infamous!' cried Mdlle. de Cardoville, with disgust. 'Such a proposal to this poor girl—to her!'
'Madame,' said Mother Bunch, bitterly, 'I had no work, I was poor, they did not know me—and they thought they might propose anything to the likes of me.'
'And I tell you,' said Rodin, 'that it was a double baseness on the part of the superior, to offer such temptation to misery, and it was doubly noble in you to refuse.'
'Sir,' said the sewing-girl, with modest embarrassment.
'Oh! I am not to be intimidated,' resumed Rod in. 'Praise or blame, I speak out roughly what I think. Ask this
