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o doubt escaped all danger, as he himself announces his speedy return to Charlestown. As soon as he arrives, which cannot (they write) be later than the middle of this month, he will be shipped off for France." "Add this to the note which concerns him," said Rodin's master. "It is written," replied the secretary, a few moments later. "Proceed, then," said his master. Rodin continued "'NOTE, No. VI. "'ADRIENNE RENNEPONT DE CARDOVILLE. "'Distantly related (without knowing it) to Jacques Rennepont, alias Sleepinbuff, and Gabriel Rennepont, missionary priest. She will soon be twenty-one years of age, the most attractive person in the world--extraordinary beauty, though red-haired--a mind remarkable for its originality--immense fortune--all the animal instincts. The incredible independence of her character makes one tremble for the future fate of this young person. Happily, her appointed guardian, Baron Tripeaud (a baron of 1829 creation, formerly agent to the late Count of Rennepont, Duke of Cardoville), is quite in the interest, and almost in the dependence, of the young lady's aunt. We count, with reason, upon this worthy and respectable relative, and on the Baron Tripeaud, to oppose and repress the singular, unheard-of designs which this young person, as resolute as independent, does not fear to avow--and which, unfortunately, cannot be turned to account in the interest of the affair in question--for--" Rodin was here interrupted by two discreet taps at the door. The secretary rose, went to see who knocked, remained a moment without, and then returned with two letters in his hand, saying: "The princess has profited by the departure of a courier to--" "Give me the letter!" cried his master, without leaving him time to finish. "At length," he added, "I shall have news of my mother--" He had scarcely read the first few lines of the letter, when he grew deadly pale, and his features took an expression of painful astonishment and poignant grief. "My mother!" he cried, "oh, heavens! my mother!" "What misfortune has happened!" asked Rodin, with a look of alarm, as he rose at the exclamation of his master. "The symptoms of improvement were fallacious," replied the other, dejectedly; "she has now relapsed into a nearly hopeless state. And yet the doctor thinks my presence might save her, for she calls for me without ceasing. She wishes to see me for the last time, that she may die in peace. Oh, that wish is s
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