be
forgotten, that the presence of Gabriel in Paris, on the 13th of
February, was essential to the success of Rodin's projects.

The bailiff and his wife, who were greatly moved at sight of the orphans,
approached them with eagerness. Just then a farm-boy entered the room,
crying: "Sir! sir! good news--two more saved from the wreck!"

"Blessing and praise to God for it!" said the missionary.

"Where are they?" asked the bailiff, hastening towards the door.

"There is one who can walk, and is following behind me with Justin; the
other was wounded against the rocks, and they are carrying him on a
litter made of branches."

"I will run and have him placed in the room below," said the bailiff, as
he went out. "Catherine, you can look to the young ladies."

"And the shipwrecked man who can walk--where is he?" asked the bailiff's
wife.

"Here he is," said the peasant, pointing to some one who came rapidly
along the gallery; "when he heard that the two young ladies were safe in
the chateau--though he is old, and wounded in the head, he took such
great strides, that it was all I could do to get here before him."

Hardly had the peasant pronounced these words, when Rose and Blanche,
springing up by a common impulse, flew to the door. They arrived there at
the same moment as Dagobert.

The soldier, unable to utter a syllable, fell on his knees at the
threshold, and extended his arms to the daughters of General Simon; while
Spoil-sport, running to them licked their hands.

But the emotion was too much for Dagobert; and, when he had clasped the
orphans in his arms, his head fell backward, and he would have sunk down
altogether, but for the care of the peasants. In spite of the
observations of the bailiff's wife, on their state of weakness and
agitation, the two young girls insisted on accompanying Dagobert, who was
carried fainting into an adjoining apartment.

At sight of the soldier, Rodin's face was again violently contracted, for
he had till then believed that the guide of General Simon's daughters was
dead. The missionary, worn out with fatigue, was leaning upon a chair,
and had not yet perceived Rodin.

A new personage, a man with a dead yellow complexion, now entered the
room, accompanied by another peasant, who pointed out Gabriel to him.
This man, who had just borrowed a smock-frock and a pair of trousers,
approached the missionary, and said to him in French but with a foreign
accent: "Prince Djalma has just