Adrienne and the other were deeply affected by the emotion of the old soldier, who continued, as he ran towards the door by which Rodin had gone out: 'Next to a service rendered to Marshal Simon, my wife, or son, nothing could be more precious to me. And you answer for this worthy man, madame, and I have ill used him in your presence! Oh! he is entitled to reparation, and he shall have it.'
So saying, Dagobert left the room precipitately, hastened through two other apartments, gained the staircase, and descending it rapidly, overtook Rodin on the lowest step.
'Sir,' said the soldier to him, in an agitated voice, as he seized him by the arm, 'you must come upstairs directly.'
'You should make up your mind to one thing or the other, my dear sir,' said Rodin, stopping good-naturedly; 'one moment you tell me to begone, and the next to return. How are we to decide?'
'Just now, sir, I was wrong; and when I am wrong, I acknowledge it. I abused and ill-treated you before witnesses; I will make you my apologies before witnesses.'
'But, my dear sir—I am much obliged to you—I am in a hurry.'
'I cannot help your being in a hurry. I tell you, I must have you come upstairs, directly—or else—or else,' resumed Dagobert, taking the hand of the Jesuit, and pressing it with as much cordiality as emotion, 'or else the happiness you have caused the in returning my cross will not be complete.'
'Well, then, my good friend, let us go up.'
'And not only have you restored me my cross, for which I have wept many tears, believe me, unknown to any one,' cried Dagobert, much affected; 'but the young lady told me, that, thanks to you, those poor children but tell me—no false joy-is it really true?—My God! is it really true?'
'Ah! ah! Mr. Inquisitive,' said Rodin, with a cunning smile. Then he added: 'Be perfectly tranquil, my growler; you shall have your two angels back again.' And the Jesuit began to ascend the stairs.
'Will they be restored to me to-day?' cried Dagobert, stopping Rodin abruptly, by catching hold of his sleeve.
'Now, really, my good friend,' said the Jesuit, 'let us come to the point. Are we to go up or down? I do not find fault, but you turn me about like a teetotum.'
'You are right. We shall be better able to explain things upstairs. Come with me—quick! quick!' said Dagobert, as, taking the Jesuit by the arm, he hurried him along, and brought him triumphantly into the room, where Adrienne and Mother Bunch had remained in much surprise at the soldier's sudden disappearance.
'Here he is! here he is!' cried Dagobert, as he entered. 'Luckily, I caught him at the bottom of the stairs.'
'And you have made me come up at a fine pace!' added Rodin, pretty well out of breath.
'Now, sir,' said Dagobert, in a grave voice, 'I declare, in presence of all, that I was wrong to abuse and ill- treat you. I make you my apology for it, sir; and I acknowledge, with joy, that I owe you—much—oh! very much and when I owe, I pay.'
So saying, Dagobert held out his honest hand to Rodin, who pressed it in a very affable manner, and replied: 'Now, really—what is all this about? What great service do you speak of?'
'This!' said Dagobert, holding up the cross before Rodin's eyes. 'You do not know, then, what this cross is to me?'
'On the contrary, supposing you would set great store by it, I intended to have the pleasure of delivering it myself. I had brought it for that purpose; but, between ourselves, you gave me so warm a reception, that I had not the time—'
'Sir,' said Dagobert, in confusion, 'I assure you that I sincerely repent of what I have done.'
'I know it, my good friend; do not say another word about it. You were then much attached to this cross?'
'Attached to it, sir!' cried Dagobert. 'Why, this cross,' and he kissed it as he spoke, 'is my relic. He from whom it came was my saint—my hero—and he had touched it with his hand!'
'Oh!' said Rodin, feigning to regard the cross with as much curiosity as respectful admiration; 'did Napoleon —the Great Napoleon—indeed touch with his own hand—that victorious hand!—this noble star of honor?'
'Yes, sir, with his own hand. He placed it there upon my bleeding breast, as a cure for my fifth wound. So that, you see, were I dying of hunger, I think I should not hesitate betwixt bread and my cross—that I might, in any case, have it on my heart in death. But, enough—enough! let us talk of something else. It is foolish in an old soldier, is it not?' added Dagobert, drawing his hand across his eyes, and then, as if ashamed to deny what he really felt: 'Well, then! yes,' he resumed, raising his head proudly, and no longer seeking to conceal the tears that rolled down his cheek; 'yes, I weep for joy, to have found my cross—my cross, that the Emperor gave me with his victorious hand, as this worthy man has called it.'
'Then blessed be my poor old hand for having restored you the glorious treasure!' said Rodin, with emotion. 'In truth,' he added, 'the day will be a good one for everybody—as I announced to you this morning in my letter.'
'That letter without a signature?' asked the soldier, more and more astonished. 'Was it from you?'
'It was I who wrote it. Only, fearing some new snare of the Abbe d'Aigrigny, I did not choose, you understand, to explain myself more clearly.'
'Then—I shall see—my orphans?'
Rodin nodded affirmatively, with an expression of great good-nature.
'Presently—perhaps immediately,' said Adrienne, with smile. 'Well! was I right in telling you that you had not judged this gentleman fairly?'
'Why did he not tell me this when I came in?' cried Dagobert, almost beside himself with joy.
'There was one difficulty in the way, my good friend,' said Rodin; 'it was, that when you came in, you nearly throttled me.'
'True; I was too hasty. Once more, I ask your pardon. But was I to blame? I had only seen you with that Abbe d'Aigrigny, and in the first moment—'
'This dear young lady,' said Rodin, bowing to Adrienne, 'will tell you that I have been, without knowing it, the accomplice IN many perfidious actions; but as soon as I began to see my way through the darkness, I quitted the evil course on which I had entered, and returned to that which is honest, just and true.'
Adrienne nodded affirmatively to Dagobert, who appeared to consult her look.
'If I did not sign the letter that I wrote to you, my good friend, it was partly from fear that my name might inspire suspicion; and if I asked you to come hither, instead of to the convent, it was that I had some dread—like this dear young lady—lest you might be recognized by the porter or by the gardener, your affair of the other night rendering such a recognition somewhat dangerous.'
'But M. Baleinier knows all; I forgot that,' said Adrienne, with uneasiness. 'He threatened to denounce M. Dagobert and his son, if I made any complaint.'
'Do not be alarmed, my dear young lady; it will soon be for you to dictate conditions,' replied Rodin. 'Leave that to me; and as for you, my good friend, your torments are now finished.'
'Yes,' said Adrienne, 'an upright and worthy magistrate has gone to the convent, to fetch Marshal Simon's daughters. He will bring them hither; but he thought with me, that it would be most proper for them to take up their abode in my house. I cannot, however, come to this decision without your consent, for it is to you that these orphans were entrusted by their mother.'
'You wish to take her place with regard to them, madame?' replied Dagobert. 'I can only thank you with all my heart, for myself and for the children. But, as the lesson has been a sharp one, I must beg to remain at the door of their chamber, night and day. If they go out with you, I must be allowed to follow them at a little distance, so as to keep them in view, just like Spoil-sport, who has proved himself a better guardian than myself. When the marshal is once here—it will be in a day or two—my post will be relieved. Heaven grant it may be soon!'
'Yes,' replied Rodin, in a firm voice, 'heaven grant he may arrive soon, for he will have to demand a terrible reckoning of the Abbe d'Aigrigny, for the persecution of his daughters; and yet the marshal does not know all.'
'And don't you tremble for the renegade?' asked Dagobert, as he thought how the marquis would soon find himself face to face with the marshal.
'I never care for cowards and traitors,' answered Rodin; 'and when Marshal Simon returns—' Then, after a pause of some seconds, he continued: 'If he will do me the honor to hear me, he shall be edified as to the conduct of the Abbe d'Aigrigny. The marshal knows that his dearest friends, as well as himself, have been victims of the
