absent for some time; for though, when I was blind enough to doubt your affection, I could not make up my mind to leave you, my conscience was by no means tranquil. Grief takes such an effect on us, that I had not the strength to come to a decision, and my days were passed in painful hesitation. But now that I am certain of your tenderness, all this irresolution has ceased, and I understand how one duty is not to be sacrificed to another, and that I have to perform two duties at once, both equally sacred; and this I now do with joy, and delight, and courage!''
'Go on, sister!' cried Blanche, rising to draw nearer to Rose. 'I think I hear our father when I remember those words, which must console and support us during his absence.'
'And then our father continued: 'Instead of grieving at my departure, you would rejoice in it, you should be proud and happy. I go to perform a good and generous act. Fancy to yourselves, that there is somewhere a poor orphan, oppressed and abandoned by all—and that the father of that orphan was once my benefactor, and that I had promised him to protect his son—and that the life of that son is now in peril—tell me, my children; would you regret that I should leave you to fly to the aid of such an orphan?'—'
''No, no, brave father!' we answered: 'we should not then be your daughters!'' continued Rose, with enthusiasm. 'Count upon us! We should be indeed unhappy if we thought that our sorrow could deprive thee of thy courage. Go! and every day we will say to ourselves proudly, 'It was to perform a great and noble duty that our father left us—we can wait calmly for his return.''
'How that idea of duty sustains one, sister!' resumed Rose, with growing enthusiasm. 'It gave our father the courage to leave us without regret, and to us the courage to bear his absence gayly!'
'And then, how calm we are now! Those mournful dreams, which seemed to portend such sad events, no longer afflict us.'
'I tell you, sister, this time we are really happy once for all.'
'And then, do you feel like me? I fancy, that I am stronger and more courageous and that I could brave every danger.'
'I should think so! We are strong enough now. Our father in the midst, you on one side, I on the other—'
'Dagobert in the vanguard, and Spoil-sport in the rear! Then the army will be complete, and let 'em come on by thousands!' added a gruff, but jovial voice, interrupting the girl, as Dagobert appeared at the half open door of the room. It was worth looking at his face, radiant with joy; for the old fellow had somewhat indiscreetly been listening to the conversation.
'Oh! you were listening, Paul Pry!' said Rose gayly, as she entered the adjoining room with her sister, and both affectionately embraced the soldier.
'To be sure, I was listening; and I only regretted not to have ears as large as Spoil-sport's! Brave, good girls! that's how I like to see you—bold as brass, and saying to care and sorrow: 'Right about face! march! go to the devil!''
'He will want to make us swear, now,' said Rose to her sister, laughing with all her might.
'Well! now and then, it does no harm,' said the soldier; 'it relieves and calms one, when if one could not swear by five hundred thousand de—'
'That's enough!' said Rose, covering with her pretty hand the gray moustache, so as to stop Dagobert in his speech. 'If Madame Augustine heard you—'
'Our poor governess! so mild and timid,' resumed Blanche. 'How you would frighten her!'
'Yes,' said Dagobert, as he tried to conceal his rising embarrassment; 'but she does not hear us. She is gone into the country.'
'Good, worthy woman!' replied Blanche, with interest. 'She said something of you, which shows her excellent heart.'
'Certainly,' resumed Rose; 'for she said to us, in speaking of you, 'Ah, young ladies! my affection must appear very little, compared with M. Dagobert's. But I feel that I also have the right to devote myself to you.''
'No doubt, no doubt! she has a heart of gold,' answered Dagobert. Then he added to himself, 'It's as if they did it on purpose, to bring the conversation back to this poor woman.'
'Father made a good choice,' continued Rose. 'She is the widow of an old officer, who was with him in the wars.'
'When we were out of spirits,' said Blanche, 'you should have seen her uneasiness and grief, and how earnestly she set about consoling us.'
'I have seen the tears in her eyes when she looked at us,' resumed Rose. 'Oh! she loves us tenderly, and we return her affection. With regard to that, Dagobert, we have a plan as soon as our father comes back.'
'Be quiet, sister!' said Blanche, laughing. 'Dagobert will not keep our secret.'
'He!'
'Will you keep it for us, Dagobert?'
'I tell you what,' said the soldier, more and more embarrassed; 'you had better not tell it to me.'
'What! can you keep nothing from Madame Augustine?'
'Ah, Dagobert! Dagobert!' said Blanche, gayly holding up her finger at the soldier; 'I suspect you very much of paying court to our governess.'
'I pay court?' said the soldier—and the expression of his face was so rueful, as he pronounced these words, that the two sisters burst out laughing.
Their hilarity was at its height when the door opened and Loony advanced into room announcing, with a loud voice, 'M. Rodin!' In fact, the Jesuit glided almost imperceptibly into the apartment, as if to take possession of the ground. Once there, he thought the game his own, and his reptile eyes sparkled with joy. It would be difficult to paint the surprise of the two sisters, and the anger of the soldier, at this unexpected visit.
Rushing upon Loony, Dagobert seized him by the collar, and exclaimed: 'Who gave you leave to introduce any one here without my permission?'
'Pardon, M. Dagobert!' said Loony, throwing himself on his knees, and clasping his hands with an air of idiotic entreaty.
'Leave the room!—and you too!' added the soldier, with a menacing gesture, as he turned towards Rodin, who had already approached the girls, with a paternal smile on his countenance.
'I am at your orders, my dear sir,' said the priest, humbly; and he made a low bow, but without stirring from the spot.
'Will you go?' cried the soldier to Loony, who was still kneeling, and who, thanks to the advantages of this position, was able to utter a certain number of words before Dagobert could remove him.
'M. Dagobert,' said Loony in a doleful voice, 'I beg pardon for bringing up the gentleman without leave; but, alas, my head is turned, because of the misfortune that happened to Madame Augustine.'
'What misfortune?' cried Rose and Blanche together, as they advanced anxiously towards Loony.
'Will you go?' thundered Dagobert, shaking the servant by the collar, to force him to rise.
'Speak—speak!' said Blanche, interposing between the soldier and his prey. 'What has happened to Madame Augustine?'
'Oh,' shouted Loony, in spite of the cuffs of the soldier. 'Madame Augustine was attacked in the night with cholera, and taken—'
He was unable to finish. Dagobert struck him a tremendous blow with his fist, right on the jaw, and, putting forth his still formidable strength, the old horse-grenadier lifted him to his legs, and with one violent kick bestowed on the lower part of his back, sent him rolling into the ante chamber.
Then turning to Rodin, with flushed cheek and sparkling eye, Dagobert pointed to the door with an expressive gesture, and said in an angry voice: 'Now, be off with you and that quickly!'
'I must pay my respects another time, my dear sir,' said Rodin, as he retired towards the door, bowing to the young girls.
CHAPTER LIV. DUTY.
Rodin, retreating slowly before the fire of Dagobert's angry looks, walked backwards to the door, casting oblique but piercing glances at the orphans, who were visibly affected by the servant's intentional indiscretion. (Dagobert had ordered him not to speak before the girls of the illness of their governess, and that was quite enough to induce the simpleton to take the first opportunity of doing so.)
Rose hastily approached the soldier, and said to him: 'Is it true—is it really true that poor Madame Augustine has been attacked with the cholera?'
