Two knocks at the door of the garret made Agricola start.  He involuntarily thought of a warrant for his apprehension.

His father, who, at the sound of the knocking turned round his head, had not perceived his emotion, and said with a loud voice:  “Come in!” The door opened.  It was Gabriel.  He wore a black cassock and a broad brimmed hat.

To recognize his brother by adoption, and to throw himself into his arms, were two movements performed at once by Agricola—­as quick as thought.—­“My brother!” exclaimed Agricola.

“Agricola!” cried Gabriel.

“Gabriel!” responded the blacksmith.

“After so long an absence!” said the one.

“To behold you again!” rejoined the other.

Such were the words exchanged between the blacksmith and the missionary, while they were locked in a close embrace.

Dagobert, moved and charmed by these fraternal endearments, felt his eyes become moist.  There was something truly touching in the affection of the young men—­in their hearts so much alike, and yet of characters and aspects so very different—­for the manly countenance of Agricola contrasted strongly with the delicacy and angelic physiognomy of Gabriel.

“I was forewarned by my father of your arrival,” said the blacksmith at length.  “I have been expecting to see you; and my happiness has been a hundred times the greater, because I have had all the pleasures of hoping for it.”

“And my good mother?” asked Gabriel, in affectionately grasping the hands of Dagobert.  “I trust that you have found her in good health.”

“Yes, my brave boy!” replied Dagobert; “and her health will have become a hundred times better, now that we are all together.  Nothing is so healthful as joy.”  Then addressing himself to Agricola, who, forgetting his fear of being arrested, regarded the missionary with an expression of ineffable affection, Dagobert added: 

“Let it be remembered, that, with the soft cheek of a young girl, Gabriel has the courage of a lion; I have already told with what intrepidity he saved the lives of Marshal Simon’s daughters, and tried to save mine also.”

“But, Gabriel! what has happened to your forehead?” suddenly exclaimed Agricola, who for a few seconds had been attentively examining the missionary.

Gabriel, having thrown aside his hat on entering, was now directly beneath the skylight of the garret apartment, the bright light through which shone upon his sweet, pale countenance:  and the round scar, which extended from one eyebrow to the other, was therefore distinctly visible.

In the midst of the powerful and diversified emotion, and of the exciting events which so rapidly followed the shipwreck on the rocky coast near Cardoville House, Dagobert, during the short interview he then had with Gabriel, had not perceived the scar which seamed the forehead of the young missionary.  Now, partaking, however, of the surprise of his son, Dagobert said: