It is unnecessary to point out to the reader, with what dignified reserve Gabriel had confined himself to the most generous means of rescuing Hardy from the deadly influence of the reverend fathers.It was repugnant to the great soul of the young missionary, to stoop to a revelation of the odious plots of these priests.He would only have taken this extreme course, had his powerful and sympathetic words have failed to have any effect on Hardy's blindness.About a quarter of an hour had elapsed since Gabriel's departure, when the servant appointed to wait on this boarder of the reverend fathers entered and delivered to him a letter.
"From whom is this?" asked Hardy.
"From a boarder in the house, sir," answered the servant bowing.
This man had a crafty hypocritical face; he wore his hair combed over his forehead, spoke in a low voice, and always cast clown his eyes.Waiting the answer, he joined his hands, and began to twiddle his thumbs.Hardy opened the letter, and read as follows:
"SIR,--I have only just heard, by mere chance, that you also inhabit this respectable house: a long illness, and the retirement in which I live, will explain my ignorance of your being so near.Though we have only met once, sir, the circumstance which led to that meeting was of so serious a nature, that I cannot think you have forgotten it.
Hardy stopped, and tasked his memory for an explanation, and not finding anything to put him on the right track, he continued to read:
"This circumstance excited in me a feeling of such deep and respectful sympathy for you, sir, that I cannot resist my anxious desire to wait upon you, particularly as I learn, that you intend leaving this house to-
day--a piece of information I have just derived from the excellent and worthy Abbe Gabriel, one of the men I most love, esteem, and reverence.
May I venture to hope, sir, that just at the moment of quitting our common retreat to return to the world, you will deign to receive favorably the request, however intrusive, of a poor old man, whose life will henceforth be passed in solitude, and who cannot therefore have any prospect of meeting you, in that vortex of society which he has abandoned forever.Waiting the honor of your answer, I beg you to accept, sir, the assurance of the sentiments of high esteem with which I remain, sir, with the deepest respect, "Your very humble and most obedient servant, "RODIN."
After reading this letter and the signature of the writer, Hardy remained for some time in deep thought, without being able to recollect the name of Rodin, or to what serious circumstances he alluded.
After a silence of some duration, he said to the servant "M.Rodin gave you this letter?"
"Yes, sir."
"And who is M.Rodin?"
"A good old gentleman, who is just recovering from a long illness, that almost carried him off.Lately, he has been getting better, but he is still so weak and melancholy, that it makes one sad to see him.It is a great pity, for there is not a better and more worthy gentleman in the house--unless it be you, sir," added the servant, bowing with an air of flattering respect.
"M.Rodin;" said Hardy, thoughtfully."It is singular, that I should not remember the name nor any circumstance connected with it."
"If you will give me your answer, sir," resumed the servant, "I will take it to M.Rodin.He is now with Father d'Aigrigny, to whom he is bidding farewell."
"Farewell?"
"Yes, sir, the post-horses have just come."
"Post-horses for whom?" asked Hardy.
"For Father d'Aigrigny, sir."
"He is going on a journey then!" said Hardy, with some surprise.
"Oh! he will not, I think be long absent," said the servant, with a confidential air, "for the reverend father takes no one with him, and but very light luggage.No doubt, the reverend father will come to say farewell to you, sir, before he starts.But what answer shall I give M.
Rodin?"
The letter, just received, was couched in such polite terms--it spoke of Gabriel with so much respect--that Hardy, urged moreover by a natural curiosity, and seeing no motive to refuse this interview before quitting the house, said to the servant: "Please tell M.Rodin, that if he will give himself the trouble to come to me, I shall be glad to see him."
"I will let him know immediately, sir," answered the servant, bowing as he left the room.
When alone, Hardy, while wondering who this M.Rodin could be, began to make some slight preparations for his departure.For nothing in the world would he have passed another night in this house; and, in order to keep up his courage, he recalled every instant the mild, evangelical language of Gabriel, just as the superstitious recite certain litanies, with a view of escaping from temptation.
The servant soon returned, and said: "M.Rodin is here, sir."
"Beg him to walk in."
Rodin entered, clad in his long black dressing-gown, and with his old silk cap in his hand.The servant then withdrew.The day was just closing.Hardy rose to meet Rodin, whose features he did not at first distinguish.But as the reverend father approached the window, Hardy looked narrowly at him for an instant, and then uttered an exclamation, wrung from him by surprise and painful remembrance.But, recovering himself from this first movement, Hardy said to the Jesuit, in an agitated voice: "You here, sir? Oh, you are right! It was indeed a very serious circumstance that first brought us together."
"Oh, my dear sir!" said Rodin, in a kindly and unctuous tone; "I was sure you would not have forgotten me."
