'It is almost certain. I have therefore made use of my dispensations, to receive the dear penitent, as in articulo mortis, a member of our divine Company, to which, in the usual course, he has made over all his possessions, present and to come—so that now he can devote himself entirely to the care of his soul, which will be one victim more rescued from the claws of Satan.'
'Oh, father!' cried the lady, in admiration; 'it is a miraculous conversion. Father d'Aigrigny told me how you had to contend against the influence of Abbe Gabriel.'
'The Abbe Gabriel,' replied Rodin, 'has been punished for meddling with what did not concern him. I have procured his suspension, and he has been deprived of his curacy. I hear that he now goes about the cholera hospitals to administer Christian consolation; we cannot oppose that—but this universal comforter is of the true heretical stamp.'
'He is a dangerous character, no doubt,' answered the princess, 'for he has considerable influence over other men. It must have needed all your admirable and irresistible eloquence to combat the detestable counsels of this Abbe Gabriel, who had taken it into his head to persuade M. Hardy to return to the life of the world. Really, father, you are a second St. Chrysostom.'
'Tut, tut, madame!' said Rodin, abruptly, for he was very little sensible to flattery; 'keep that for others.'
'I tell you that you're a second St. Chrysostom father,' repeated the princess with enthusiasm; 'like him, you deserve the name of Golden Mouth.'
'Stuff, madame!' said Rodin, brutally, shrugging his shoulders; 'my lips are too pale, my teeth too black, for a mouth of gold. You must be only joking.'
'But, father—'
'No, madame, you will not catch old birds with chaff,' replied Rodin, harshly. 'I hate compliments, and I never pay them.'
'Your modesty must pardon me, father,' said the princess, humbly; 'I could not resist the desire to express to you my admiration, for, as you almost predicted, or at least foresaw, two members of the Rennepont family, have, within the last few months, resigned all claim to the inheritance.'
Rodin looked at Madame de Saint-Dizier with a softened and approving air, as he heard her thus describe the position of the two defunct claimants. For, in Rodin's view of the case, M. Hardy, in consequence of his donation and his suicidal asceticism, belonged no longer to this world.
The lady continued: 'One of these men, a wretched artisan, has been led to his ruin by the exaggeration of his vices. You have brought the other into the path of salvation, by carrying out his loving and tender qualities. Honor, then to your foresight, father! for you said that you would make use of the passions to attain your end.'
'Do not boast too soon,' said Rodin, impatiently. 'Have you forgotten your niece, and the Hindoo, and the daughters of Marshal Simon? Have they also made a Christian end, or resigned their claim to share in this inheritance?'
'No, doubtless.'
'Hence, you see, madame, we should not lose time in congratulating ourselves on the past, but make ready for the future. The great day approaches. The first of June is not far off. Heaven grant we may not see the four surviving members of the family continue to live impenitent up to that period, and so take possession of this enormous property—the source of perdition in their hands—but productive of the glory of the Church in the hands of our Company!'
'True, father!'
'By the way, you were to see your lawyers on the subject of your niece?'
'I have seen them, father. However uncertain may be the chance of which I spoke, it is worth trying. I shall know to-day, I hope, if it is legally possible.'
'Perhaps then,—in the new condition of life to which she would be reduced, we might find means to effect her conversion,' said Rodin, with a strange and hideous smile; 'until now, since she has been so fatally brought in contact with the Oriental, the happiness of these two pagans appears bright and changeless as the diamond. Nothing bites into it, not even Faringhea's tooth. Let us hope that the Lord will wreak justice on their vain and guilty felicity!'
This conversation was here interrupted by Father d'Aigrigny, who entered the room with an air of triumph, and exclaimed, 'Victory!'
'What do you say'' asked the princess.
'He is gone—last night,' said Father d'Aigrigny.
'Who?' said Rodin.
'Marshal Simon,' replied the abbe.
'At last!' said Rodin, unable to hide his joy.
'It was no doubt his interview with General d'Havrincourt which filled up the measure,' cried the princess, 'for I know he had a long conversation with the general, who like so many others, believed the reports in circulation. All means are good against the impious!' added the princess, by way of moral.
'Have you any details?' asked Rodin.
'I have just left Robert,' said Father d'Aigrigny. 'His age and description agree with the marshal's, and the latter travels with his papers. Only one thing has greatly surprised your emissary.'
'What is that?' said Rodin.
'Until now, he had always to contend with the hesitations of the marshal, and had moreover noticed his gloomy and desponding air. Yesterday, on the contrary, he found him so bright with happiness, that he could not help asking him the cause of the alteration.'
'Well?' said Rodin and the princess together, both extremely surprised.
'The marshal answered: 'I am indeed the happiest man in the world; for I am going joyfully to accomplish a sacred duty!'
The three actors in this scene looked at each other in silence.
'And what can have produced this sudden change in the mind of the marshal?' said the princess, with a pensive air. 'We rather reckon on sorrow and every kind of irritation to urge him to engage in this adventurous enterprise.'
'I cannot make it out,' said Rodin, reflecting; 'but no matter—he is gone. We must not lose a moment, to commence operations on his daughters. Has he taken that infernal soldier with him?'
'No,' said Father d'Aigrigny; 'unfortunately, he has not done so. Warned by the past, he will redouble his precautions; and a man, whom we might have used against him at a pinch, has just been taken with the contagion.'
'Who is that?' asked the princess.
'Morok. I could count upon him anywhere and for anything. He is lost to us; for, should he recover from the cholera, I fear he will fall a victim to a horrible and incurable disease.'
'How so?'
'A few days ago, he was bitten by one of the mastiffs of his menagerie, and, the next day, the dog showed symptoms of hydrophobia.'
'Ah! it is dreadful,' cried the princess; 'and where is this unfortunate man?'
'He has been taken to one of the temporary hospitals established in Paris, for at present he has only been attacked with cholera. It is doubly unfortunate, I repeat, for he was a devoted, determined fellow, ready for anything. Now this soldier, who has the care of the orphans, will be very difficult to get at, and yet only through him can we hope to reach Marshal Simon's daughters.'
'That is clear,' said Rodin, thoughtfully.
'Particularly since the anonymous letters have again awakened his suspicions,' added Father d'Aigrigny 'and —'
'Talking of the anonymous letters,' said Rodin suddenly, interrupting Father d'Aigrigny, 'there is a fact that you ought to know; I will tell you why.'
'What is it?'
'Besides the letters that you know of, Marshal Simon has received a number of others unknown to you, in which, by every possible means, it is tried to exasperate his irritation against yourself—for they remind him of all the reasons he has to hate you, and mock at him, because your sacred character shelters you from his vengeance.'
