balsamic vapor, which rose from the warm, limpid, and perfumed water, that filled the crystal shell, spread through the bath-room, and floated like a light cloud into the sleeping-chamber.
Seeing Hebe in her fresh and pretty costume, bringing her a long bathing gown, hanging upon a bare and dimpled arm, Adrienne said to her: 'Where is Florine, my child?'
'Madame, she went downstairs two hours ago; she was wanted for something very pressing.'
'Who wanted her?'
'The young person who serves Madame as secretary. She went out this morning very early; and, as soon as she returned, she sent for Florine, who has not come back since.'
'This absence no doubt relates to some important affair of my angelic minister of succor,' said Adrienne, smiling, and thinking of the hunchback. Then she made a sign to Hebe to approach her bed.
About two hours after rising, Adrienne, having had herself dressed, as usual, with rare elegance, dismissed her women, and sent for Mother Bunch, whom she treated with marked deference, always receiving her alone. The young sempstress entered hastily, with a pale, agitated countenance, and said, in a trembling voice: 'Oh, madame! my presentiments were justified. You are betrayed.'
'Of what presentiments do you speak, my dear child!' said Adrienne, with surprise. 'Who betrays me?'
'M. Rodin!' answered the workgirl.
CHAPTER XLII. DOUBTS.
On hearing the accusation brought against Rodin, Mdlle. de Cardoville looked at the denunciator with new astonishment. Before continuing this scene, we may say that Mother Bunch was no longer clad in her poor, old clothes, but was dressed in black, with as much simplicity as taste. The sad color seemed to indicate her renunciation of all human vanity, the eternal mourning of her heart, and the austere duties imposed upon her by her devotion to misfortune. With her black gown, she wore a large falling collar, white and neat as her little gauze cap, with its gray ribbons, which, revealing her bands of fine brown hair, set off to advantage her pale and melancholy countenance, with its soft blue eyes. Her long, delicate hands, preserved from the cold by gloves, were no longer, as formerly, of a violet hue, but of an almost transparent whiteness.
Her agitated features expressed a lively uneasiness. Extremely surprised, Mdlle. de Cardoville exclaimed: 'What do you say?'
'M. Rodin betrays you, madame.'
'M. Rodin? Impossible!'
'Oh, madame! my presentiments did not deceive me.'
'Your presentiments?'
'The first time I saw M. Rodin, I was frightened in spite of myself. My heart sank within me, and I trembled— for you, madame.'
'For me?' said Adrienne. 'Why did you not tremble for yourself, my poor friend?'
'I do not know, madame; but such was my first impression. And this fear was so invincible, that, notwithstanding the kindness that M. Rodin showed my sister, he frightened me, none the less.'
'That is strange. I can understand as well as any one the almost irresistible influence of sympathies or aversions; but, in this instance—However,' resumed Adrienne, after a moment's reflection, 'no matter for that; how have these suspicions been changed to certainty?'
'Yesterday, I went to take to my sister Cephyse, the assistance that M. Rodin had given me, in the name of a charitable person. I did not find Cephyse at the friend's who had taken care of her; I therefore begged the portress, to inform my sister that I would call again this morning. That is what I did; but you must excuse me, madame, some necessary details.'
'Speak, speak, my dear.'
'The young girl who had received my sister,' said Mother Bunch, with embarrassment, casting down her eyes and blushing, 'does not lead a very regular life. A person, with whom she has gone on several parties of pleasure, one M. Dumoulin, had informed her of the real name of M. Rodin, who has a kind of lodging in that house, and there goes by the name of Charlemagne.'
'That is just what he told us at Dr. Baleinier's; and, the day before yesterday, when I again alluded to the circumstance, he explained to me the necessity in which he was, for certain reasons, to have a humble retreat in that remote quarter—and I could not but approve of his motives.'
'Well, then! yesterday, M. Rodin received a visit from the Abbe d'Aigrigny.'
'The Abbe d'Aigrigny!' exclaimed Mdlle. de Cardoville.
'Yes, madame; he remained for two hours shut up with M. Rodin.'
'My child, you must have been deceived.'
'I was told, madame, that the Abbe d'Aigrigny had called in the morning to see M. Rodin; not finding him at home, he had left with the portress his name written on a slip of paper, with the words, 'I shall return in two hours.' The girl of whom I spoke, madame, had seen this slip of paper. As all that concerns M. Rodin appears mysterious enough, she had the curiosity to wait for M. d'Aigrigny in the porter's lodge, and, about two hours afterwards, he indeed returned, and saw M. Rodin.'
'No, no,' said Adrienne, shuddering; 'it is impossible. There must be some mistake.'
'I think not, madame; for, knowing how serious such a discovery would be, I begged the young girl to describe to me the appearance of M. d'Aigrigny.'
'Well?'
'The Abbe d'Aigrigny, she told me, is about forty years of age. He is tall and upright, dresses plainly, but with care; has gray eyes, very large and piercing, thick eyebrows, chestnut-colored hair, a face closely shaved, and a very decided aspect.'
'It is true,' said Adrienne, hardly able to believe what she heard. 'The description is exact.'
'Wishing to have all possible details,' resumed Mother Bunch, 'I asked the portress if M. Rodin and the Abbe d'Aigrigny appeared to be at variance when they quitted the house? She replied no, but that the Abbe said to M. Rodin, as they parted at the door: 'I will write to you tomorrow, as agreed.''
'Is it a dream? Good heaven!' said Adrienne, drawing her hands across her forehead in a sort of stupor. 'I cannot doubt your word, my poor friend; and yet it is M. Rodin who himself sent you to that house, to give assistance to your sister: would he have wilfully laid open to you his secret interviews with the Abbe d'Aigrigny? It would have been bad policy in a traitor.'
'That is true, and the same reflection occurred to me. And yet the meeting of these two men appeared so dangerous to you, madame, that I returned home full of terror.'
Characters of extreme honesty are very hard to convince of the treachery of others: the more infamous the deception, the more they are inclined to doubt it. Adrienne was one of these characters, rectitude being a prime quality of her mind. Though deeply impressed by the communication, she remarked: 'Come, my dear, do not let us frighten ourselves too soon, or be over-hasty in believing evil. Let us try to enlighten ourselves by reasoning, and first of all remember facts. M. Rodin opened for me the doors of Dr. Baleinier's asylum; in my presence, he brought, his charge against the Abbe d'Aigrigny; he forced the superior of the convent to restore Marshal Simon's daughters, he succeeded in discovering the retreat of Prince Djalma—he faithfully executed my intentions with regard to my young cousin; only yesterday, he gave me the most useful advice. All this is true—is it not?'
'Certainly, madame.'
'Now suppose that M. Rodin, putting things in their worst light, had some after-thought—that he hopes to be liberally rewarded, for instance; hitherto, at least, he has shown complete disinterestedness.'
'That also is true, madame,' said poor Mother Bunch, obliged, like Adrienne, to admit the evidence of fixed facts.
'Now let us look to the possibility of treachery. Unite with the Abbe d'Aigrigny to betray me! Betray me?— how? and for what purpose? What have I to fear? Is it not the Abbe d'Aigrigny, on the contrary, is it not Madame de Saint-Dizier, who have to render an account for the injuries they have done me?'
'But, then, madame, how do you explain the meeting of these two men, who have so many motives for mutual aversion? May there not be some dark project still behind? Besides, madame, I am not the only one to think so.'
'How is that?'
'This morning, on my return, I was so much agitated, that Mdlle. Florine asked me the cause of my trouble. I
