Father d'Aigrigny resumed: "I do not conceal from you, my dear son, that your resolution filled me with joy.I saw in you one of the future lights of the Church, and I was anxious to see it shine in the midst of our Company.You submitted courageously to our painful and difficult tests; you were judged worthy of belonging to us, and, after taking in my presence the irrevocable and sacred oath, which binds you for ever to our Company for the greater glory of God, you answered the appeal of our Holy Father[14] to willing souls, and offered yourself as a missionary, to preach to savages the one Catholic faith.Though it was painful to us to part with our dear son, we could not refuse to accede to such pious wishes.You set out a humble missionary you return a glorious martyr--
and we are justly proud to reckon you amongst our number.This rapid sketch of the past was necessary, my dear son to arrive at what follows, for we wish now, if it be possible, to draw still closer the bonds that unite us.Listen to me, my dear son; what I am about to say is confidential and of the highest importance, not only for you, but the whole Company."
"Then, father," cried Gabriel hastily, interrupting the Abbe d'Aigrigny, "I cannot--I ought not to hear you."
The young priest became deadly pale; one saw, by the alteration of his features, that a violent struggle was taking place within him, but recovering his first resolution, he raised his head, and casting an assured look on Father d'Aigrigny and Rodin, who glanced at each other in mute surprise, he resumed: "I repeat to you, father, that if it concerns confidential matters of the Company, I must not hear you."
"Really, my dear son, you occasion me the greatest astonishment.What is the matter?--Your countenance changes, your emotion is visible.Speak without fear; why can you not hear me?"
"I cannot tell you, father, until I also have, in my turn, rapidly sketched the past--such as I have learned to judge it of late.You will then understand, father, that I am no longer entitled to your confidence, for an abyss will doubtlessly soon separate us."
At these words, it is impossible to paint the look rapidly exchanged between Rodin and Father d'Aigrigny.The socius began to bite his nails, fixing his reptile eye angrily upon Gabriel; Father d'Aigrigny grew livid, and his brow was bathed in cold sweat.He asked himself with terror, if, at the moment of reaching the goal, the obstacle was going to come from Gabriel, in favor of whom all other obstacles had been removed.
This thought filled him with despair.Yet the reverend father contained himself admirably, remained calm, and answered with affectionate unction:
"It is impossible to believe, my dear son, that you and I can ever be separated by an abyss--unless by the abyss of grief, which would be caused by any serious danger to your salvation.But speak; I listen to you."
"It is true, that, twelve years ago, father," proceeded Gabriel, in a firm voice, growing more animated as he proceeded, "I entered, through your intervention, a college of the Company of Jesus.I entered it loving, truthful, confiding.How did they encourage those precious instincts of childhood? I will tell you.The day of my entrance, the Superior said to me, as he pointed out two children a little older than myself: `These are the companions that you will prefer.You will always walk three together.The rules of the house forbid all intercourse between two persons only.They also require, that you should listen attentively to what your companions say, so that you may report it to me;
for these dear children may have, without knowing it, bad thoughts or evil projects.Now, if you love your comrades, you must inform me of these evil tendencies, that my paternal remonstrances may save them from punishment; it is better to prevent evil than to punish it.'"
"Such are, indeed, my dear son," said Father d'Aigrigny, "the rules of our house, and the language we hold to all our pupils on their entrance."
"I know it, father," answered Gabriel, bitterly; "three days after, a poor, submissive, and credulous child, I was already a spy upon my comrades, hearing and remembering their conversation, and reporting it to the superior, who congratulated me on my zeal.What they thus made me do was shameful, and yet, God knows! I thought I was accomplishing a charitable duty.I was happy in obeying the commands of a superior whom I respected, and to whose words I listened, in my childish faith, as I should have listened to those of Heaven.One day, that I had broken some rule of the house, the superior said to me: `My child, you have deserved a severe punishment; but you will be pardoned, if you succeed in surprising one of your comrades in the same fault that you have committed.' And for that, notwithstanding my faith and blind obedience, this encouragement to turn informer, from the motive of personal interest, might appear odious to me, the superior added.`I speak to you, my child, for the sake of your comrade's salvation.Were he to escape punishment, his evil habits would become habitual.But by detecting him in a fault, and exposing him to salutary correction, you will have the double advantage of aiding in his salvation, and escaping yourself a merited punishment, which will have been remitted because of your zeal for your neighbor--"
"Doubtless," answered Father d'Aigrigny, more and more terrified by Gabriel's language; "and in truth, my dear son, all this is conformable to the rule followed in our colleges, and to the habits of the members of our Company, `who may denounce each other without prejudice to mutual love and charity, and only for their greater spiritual advancement, particularly when questioned by their superior, or commanded for the greater glory of God,' as our Constitution has it."
"I know it," cried Gabriel; "I know it.'Tis in the name of all that is most sacred amongst men, that we are encouraged to do evil."
