and now
scratched his head violently with his left hand, whilst he continued to
gnaw the nails of the right. Finally, from time to time, he uttered
exclamations of rage, despondency, or hope, as by turns they took
possession of his mind. If the cause of this monster's agitation had not
been horrible, it would have been a curious and interesting spectacle to
watch the labors of that powerful brain--to follow, as it were, on that
shifting countenance, the progress and development of the project, on
which he was now concentrating all the resources of his strong intellect.
At length, the work appeared to be near completion, for Rodin resumed:
"Yes, yes! it is bold, hazardous--but then it is prompt, and the
consequences may be incalculable. Who can foresee the effects of the
explosion of a mine?"

Then, yielding to a movement of enthusiasm, which was hardly natural to
him, the Jesuit exclaimed, with rapture: "Oh, the passions! the passions!
what a magical instrument do they form, if you do but touch the keys with
a light, skillful, and vigorous hand! How beautiful too is the power of
thought! Talk of the acorn that becomes an oak, the seed that grows up to
the corn--the seed takes months, the acorn centuries, to unfold its
splendors--but here is a little word in eight letters, necklace and this
word, falling into my brain but a few minutes ago, has grown and grown
till it has become larger than any oak. Yes, that word is the germ of an
idea, that, like the oak, lifts itself up towards heaven, for the greater
glory of the Lord--such as they call Him, and such as I would assert Him
to be, should I attain--and I shall attain--for these miserable
Renneponts will pass away like a shadow. And what matters it, after all,
to the moral order I am reserved to guide, whether these people live or
die? What do such lives weigh in the balance of the great destinies of
the world? while this inheritance which I shall boldly fling into the
scale, will lift me to a sphere, from which one commands many kings, many
nations--let them say and make what noise they will. The idiots--the
stupid idiots! or rather, the kind, blessed, adorable idiots! They think
they have crushed us, when they say to us men of the church: 'You take
the spiritual, but we will keep the temporal!'--Oh, their conscience or
their modesty inspires them well, when it bids them not meddle with
spiritual things! They abandon the spiritual! they despise it, they will
have nothi