last quite imperceptible. His larynx, contracted by violent emotion, no longer emitted any sound. The Jesuit, far from being disconcerted by this incident, finished his phrase, as it were, by expressive pantomime. Raising his head proudly he tapped his forehead with his forefinger, as if to express that it was to his ability this first success was owing. But he soon fell back again on the bed, exhausted, breathless, sinking, with his cotton handkerchief pressed once more to his parched lips. The good news, as Father d'Aigrigny called it, had not cured Rodin. For a moment only, he had had the courage to forget his pain. But the slight color on his cheek soon disappeared; his face became once more livid. His sufferings, suspended for a moment, were so much increased in violence, that he writhed beneath the coverlet, and buried his face in the pillow, extending his arms above his head, and holding them stiff as bars of iron. After this crisis, intense as it was rapid: during which Father d'Aigrigny and the prelate bent anxiously over him, Rodin, whose face was bathed in cold sweat, made a sign that he suffered less, and that he wished to drink of a potion to which he pointed. Father d'Aigrigny fetched it for him, and while the cardinal held him up with marked disgust, the abbe administered a few spoonfuls of the potion, which almost immediately produced a soothing effect.
'Shall I call M. Rousselet?' said Father d'Aigrigny, when Rodin was once more laid down in bed.
Rodin shook his head; then, with a fresh effort, he raised his right hand, opened it, and pointed with his forefinger to a desk in a corner of the room, to signify that, being no longer able to speak, he wished to write.
'I understand your reverence,' said Father d'Aigrigny; 'but first calm yourself. Presently, if you require it. I will give you writing materials.'
Two knocks at the outer door of the next room interrupted this scene. From motives of prudence, Father d'Aigrigny had begged Rousselet to remain in the first of the three rooms. He now went to open the door, and Rousselet handed him a voluminous packet, saying: 'I beg pardon for disturbing you, father, but I was told to let you have these papers instantly.'
'Thank you, M. Rousselet,' said Father d'Aigrigny; 'do you know at what hour Dr. Baleinier will return?'
'He will not be long, father, for he wishes to perform before night the painful operation, that will have a decisive effect on the condition of Father Rodin. I am preparing what is necessary for it,' added Rousselet, as he pointed to a singular and formidable apparatus, which Father d'Aigrigny examined with a kind of terror.
'I do not know if the symptom is a serious one,' said the Jesuit; 'but the reverend father has suddenly lost his voice.'
'It is the third time this has happened within the last week,' said Rousselet; 'the operation of Dr. Baleiner will act both on the larynx and on the lungs.'
'Is the operation a very painful one?' asked Father d'Aigrigny.
'There is, perhaps, none more cruel in surgery,' answered the young doctor; 'and Dr. Baleinier has partly concealed its nature from Father Rodin.'
'Please to wait here for Dr. Baleinier, and send him to us as soon as he arrives,' resumed Father d'Aigrigny: and, returning to the sick chamber, he sat down by the bedside, and said to Rodin, as he showed him the letter: 'Here are different reports with regard to different members of the Rennepont family, whom I have had looked after by others, my indisposition having kept me at home for the last few days. I do not know, father, if the state of your health will permit you to hear—'
Rodin made a gesture, at once so supplicating and peremptory, that Father d'Aigrigny felt there would be at least as much danger in refusing as in granting his request; so, turning towards the cardinal, still inconsolable at not having discovered the Jesuit's secret, he said to him with respectful deference, pointing at the same time to the letter: 'Have I the permission of your Eminence?'
The prelate bowed, and replied: 'Your affairs are ours, my dear father. The Church must always rejoice in what rejoices your glorious Company.'
Father d'Aigrigny unsealed the packet, and found in it different notes in different handwritings. When he had read the first, his countenance darkened, and he said, in a grave tone: 'A misfortune—a great misfortune.'
Rodin turned his head abruptly, and looked at him with an air of uneasy questioning.
'Florine is dead of the cholera,' answered Father d'Aigrigny; 'and what is the worst,' added he, crumpling the note between his hands, 'before dying, the miserable creature confessed to Mdlle. de Cardoville that she long acted as a spy under the orders of your reverence.'
No doubt the death of Florine, and the confession she had made, crossed some of the plans of Rodin, for he uttered an inarticulate murmur, and his countenance expressed great vexation.
Passing to another note, Father d'Aigrigny continued: 'This relates to Marshal Simon, and is not absolutely bad, but still far from satisfactory, as it announces some amelioration in his position. We shall see if it merits belief, by information from another source.'
Rodin made a sign of impatience, to hasten Father d'Aigrigny to read the note, which he did as follows. ''For some days, the mind of the marshal has appeared to be less sorrowful, anxious and agitated. He lately passed two hours with his daughters, which had not been the case for some time before. The harsh countenance of the soldier Dagobert is becoming smoother—a sure sign of some amelioration in the condition of the marshal. Detected by their handwriting, the last anonymous letters were returned by Dagobert to the postman, without having been opened by the marshal. Some other method must be found to get them delivered.''
Looking at Rodin, Father d'Aigrigny said to him: 'Your reverence thinks with me that this note is not very satisfactory?'
Rodin held down his head. One saw by the expression of his countenance how much he suffered by not being able to speak. Twice he put his hand to his throat, and looked at Father d'Aigrigny with anguish.
'Oh!' cried Father d'Aigrigny, angrily, when he had perused another note, 'for one lucky chance, to-day brings some very black ones.'
At these words turning hastily to Father d'Aigrigny, and extending his trembling hands, Rodin questioned him with look and gesture. The cardinal, sharing his uneasiness, exclaimed: 'What do you learn by this note, my dear father?'
'We thought the residence of M. Hardy in our house completely unknown,' replied Father d'Aigrigny, 'but we now fear that Agricola Baudoin has discovered the retreat of his old master, and that he has even communicated with him by letter, through a servant of the house. So,' added the reverend father, angrily, 'during the three days that I have not been able to visit the pavilion, one of my servants must have been bought over. There is one of them, a man blind of one eye, whom I have always suspected—the wretch! But no: I will not yet believe this treachery. The consequences would be too deplorable; for I know how matters stand, and that such a correspondence might ruin everything. By awaking in M. Hardy memories with difficulty laid asleep, they might destroy in a single day all that has been done since he inhabits our house. Luckily, this note contains only doubts and fears; my other information will be more positive, and will not, I hope, confirm them.'
'My dear father,' said the cardinal, 'do not despair. The Lord will not abandon the good cause!'
Father d'Aigrigny seemed very little consoled by this assurance. He remained still and thoughtful, whilst Rodin writhed his head in a paroxysm of mute rage, as he reflected on this new check.
'Let us turn to the last note,' said Father d'Aigrigny, after a moment of thoughtful silence. 'I have so much confidence in the person who sends it, that I cannot doubt the correctness of the information it contains. May it contradict the others!'
In order not to break the chain of facts contained in this last note, which was to have so startling an effect on the actors in this scene, we shall leave it to the reader's imagination to supply the exclamations of surprise, hate, rage and fear of Father d'Aigrigny, and the terrific pantomime of Rodin, during the perusal of this formidable document, the result of the observations of a faithful and secret agent of the reverend fathers. Comparing this note with the other information received, the results appeared more distressing to the reverend fathers. Thus Gabriel had long and frequent conferences with Adrienne, who before was unknown to him. Agricola Baudoin had opened a communication with Francis Hardy, and the officers of justice were on the track of the authors and instigators of the riot which had led to the burning of the factory of Baron Tripeaud's rival. It seemed almost certain that Mdlle. de Cardoville had had an interview with Prince Djalma.
This combination of facts showed that, faithful to the threats she had uttered to Rodin, when she had unmasked the double perfidy of the reverend father, Mdlle. de Cardoville was actively engaged in uniting the scattered members of her family, to form a league against those dangerous enemies, whose detestable projects, once unveiled and boldly encountered, could hardly have a chance of success. The reader will now understand the tremendous effect of this note on Father d'Aigrigny and Rodin—on Rodin, stretched powerless on a bed of pain at
