must profit by the moment of excitement, which will be followed by
greater depression."

"Then, without the operation--" said the cardinal.

"This fortunate and unexpected crisis will soon be over, and the reaction
may kill him, my lord."

"Have you informed him of the serious nature of the operation?"

"Pretty nearly, my lord."

"But it is time to bring him to the point."

"That is what I will do, my lord," said Dr. Baleinier; and approaching
Rodin, who continued to write, he thus addressed him, in a firm voice:
"My reverend father, do you wish to be up and well in a week?"

Rodin nodded, full of confidence, as much as to say: "I am up already."

"Do not deceive yourself," replied the doctor. "This crisis is excellent,
but it will not last, and if we would profit by it, we must proceed with
the operation of which I have spoken to you--or, I tell you plainly, I
answer for nothing after such a shock."

Rodin was the more struck with these words, as, half an hour ago, he had
experienced the short duration of the improvement occasioned by Father
d'Aigrigny's good news, and as already he felt increased oppression on
the chest.

Dr. Baleinier, wishing to decide him, added: "In a word, father, will you
live or die?"

Rodin wrote rapidly this answer, which he gave to the doctor: "To live, I
would let you cut me limb from limb. I am ready for anything." And he
made a movement to rise.

"I must tell you, reverend father, so as not to take you by surprise,"
added Dr. Baleinier, "that this operation is cruelly painful."

Rodin shrugged his shoulders and wrote with a firm hand: "Leave me my
head; you may take all the rest."

The doctor read these words aloud, and the cardinal and Father d'Aigrigny
looked at each other in admiration of this dauntless courage.

"Reverend father," said Dr. Baleinier, "you must lie down."

Rodin wrote: "Get everything ready. I have still some orders to write.
Let me know when it is time."

Then folding up a paper, which he had sealed with a wafer, Rodin gave
these words to Father d'Aigrigny: "Send this note instantly to the agent
who addressed the anonymous letters to Marshal Simon."

"Instantly, reverend father," replied the abbe; "I will employ a sure
messenger."

"Reverend father," said Baleinier to Rodin, "since you must write, lie
down in bed, and write there, during our little preparations."

Rodin made an affirmative gesture, and rose. But already the prognostics
of the