“You have seen him, then, sir?” said Adrienne, interrupting Rodin.

“Yes, my dear young lady; I was with him for about two hours.  It was quite enough to judge of him.  His charming features are the mirror of his soul.”

“And where did you see him, sir?”

“At your old Chateau de Cardoville, my dear young lady, near which he had been shipwrecked in a storm, and whither I had gone to—­” Rodin hesitated for a moment, and then, as if yielding to the frankness of his disposition, added:  “Whither I had gone to commit a bad action—­a shameful, miserable action, I must confess!”

“You, sir?—­at Cardoville House—­to commit a bad action?” cried Adrienne, much surprised.

“Alas! yes, my dear young lady,” answered Rodin with simplicity.  “In one word, I had orders from Abbe d’Aigrigny, to place your former bailiff in the alternative either of losing his situation or lending himself to a mean action—­something, in fact, that resembled spying and calumny; but the honest, worthy man refused.”

“Why, who are you, sir?” said Mdlle. de Cardoville, more and more astonished.

“I am Rodin, lately secretary of the Abbe d’Aigrigny—­a person of very little importance, as you see.”

It is impossible to describe the accent, at once humble and ingenuous, of the Jesuit, as he pronounced these words, which he accompanied with a respectful bow.  On this revelation, Mdlle. de Cardoville drew back abruptly.  We have said that Adrienne had sometimes heard talk of Rodin, the humble secretary of the Abbe d’Aigrigny, as a sort of obedient and passive machine.  That was not all; the bailiff of Cardoville Manor, writing to Adrienne on the subject of Prince Djalma, had complained of the perfidious and dishonest propositions of Rodin.  She felt, therefore, a vague suspicion, when she heard that her liberator was the man who had played so odious a part.  Yet this unfavorable feeling was balanced by the sense of what she owed to Rodin, and by his frank denunciation of Abbe d’Aigrigny before the magistrate.  And then the Jesuit, by his own confession, had anticipated, as it were, the reproaches that might have been addressed to him.  Still, it was with a kind of cold reserve that Mdlle. de Cardoville resumed this dialogue, which she had commenced with as much frankness as warmth and sympathy.

Rodin perceived the impression he had made.  He expected it.  He was not the least disconcerted when Mdlle. de Cardoville said to him, as she fixed upon him a piercing glance, “Ah! you are M. Rodin—­secretary to the Abbe d’Aigrigny?”

“Say ex-secretary, if you please, my dear young lady,” answered the Jesuit; “for you see clearly that I can never again enter the house of the Abbe d’Aigrigny.  I have made of him an implacable enemy, and I am now without employment—­but no matter—­nay, so much the better—­since, at this price, the wicked are unmasked, and honest people rescued.”

These words, spoken with much simplicity, and dignity, revived a feeling of pity in Adrienne’s heart.  She thought within herself that, after all, the poor old man spoke the truth.  Abbe d’Aigrigny’s hate, after this exposure, would be inexorable, and Rodin had braved it for the sake of a generous action.