d in this inheritance, but kept away from Paris by infamous
treachery. And another heir, an unfortunate artisan, who falling into a
trap cleverly baited, has been thrown into a prison for debt."

"But, sir," said Adrienne, suddenly, "for whose advantage was this
abominable plot, which really alarms me, first devised?"

"For the advantage of Abbe d'Aigrigny," answered Rodin.

"How, and by what right! Was he also an heir?"

"It would take too long to explain it to you, my dear young lady. You
will know all one day. Only be convinced that your family has no more
bitter enemy that Abbe d'Aigrigny."

"Sir," said Adrienne, giving way to one last suspicion, "I will speak
frankly to you. How can I have deserved the interest that you seem to
take in me, and that you even extend to all the members of my family?"

"My dear young lady," answered Rodin, with a smile, "were I to tell you
the cause, you would only laugh at, or misapprehend me."

"Speak, I beg of you, sir. Do not mistrust me or yourself."

"Well, then, I became interested in you--devoted to you--because your
heart is generous, your mind lofty, your character independent and
proud. Once attached to you, those of your race, who are indeed
themselves worthy of interest, were no longer indifferent to me. To
serve them was to serve you also."

"But, sir--admitting that you suppose me worthy of the too flattering
praises you bestow upon me--how could you judge of my heart, my mind, my
character?"

"I will tell you, my dear young lady; but first I must make another
confession, that fills me with shame. If you were not even so
wonderfully endowed, what you have suffered in this house should suffice
to command the interest of every honest man--don't you think so?"

"I do think it should, sir."

"I might thus explain the interest I feel in you. But no--I confess
it--that would not have sufficed with me. Had you been only Mdlle. de
Cardoville--a rich, noble, beautiful young lady--I should doubtless have
pitied your misfortune; but I should have said to myself, 'This poor
young lady is certainly much to be pitied; but what can I, poor man, do
in it? My only resource is my post of secretary to the Abbe d'Aigrigny,
and he would be the first that must be attacked. He is all-powerful, and
I am nothing. To engage in a struggle with him would be to ruin myself,
without the hope of saving this unfortunate person.' But when I
learnt what you were, my dear young lady, I revolt