man
never speaks of the services he has rendered, and you come back three
times to the subject."

"But Dagobert," whispered Rose, "if he brings news of our father?"

The soldier made a sign, as if to beg the girl to let him speak, and
resumed, looking full at Rodin: "You are cunning, but I'm no raw
recruit."

"I cunning?" said Rodin, with a sanctified air.

"Yes, very. You think to puzzle me with your fine phrases; but I'm not to
be caught in that way. Just listen to me. Some of your band of
black-gowns stole my cross; you returned it to me. Some of the same band
carried off these children; you brought them back. It is also true that
you denounced the renegade D'Aigrigny. But all this only proves two
things: first, that you were vile enough to be the accomplice of these
scoundrels; and secondly, that, having been their accomplice, you were
base enough to betray them. Now, those two facts are equally bad, and I
suspect you most furiously. So march off at once; your presence is not
good for these children."

"But, my dear sir--"

"I will have no buts," answered Dagobert, in an angry voice. "When a man
of your look does good, it is only to hide some evil; and one must be on
guard."

"I understand your suspicions," said Rodin coolly, hiding his growing
disappointment, for he had hoped it would have been easy to coax the
soldier; "but, if you reflect, what interest have I in deceiving you? And
in what should the deception consist?"

"You have some interest or other in persisting to remain here, when I
tell you to go away."

"I have already had the honor of informing you of the object of my visit,
my dear sir."

"To bring news of Marshal Simon?"

"That is exactly the case. I am happy enough to have news of the marshal.
Yes, my dear young ladies," added Rodin, as he again approached the two
sisters, to recover, as it were, the ground he had lost, "I have news of
your glorious father!"

"Then come to my room directly, and you can tell it to me," replied
Dagobert.

"What! you would be cruel enough to deprive these dear ladies of the
pleasure--"

"By heaven, sir!" cried Dagobert, in a voice of thunder, "you will make
me forget myself. I should be sorry to fling a man of your age down the
stairs. Will you be gone?"

"Well, well," said Rodin mildly, "do not be angry with a poor old man. I
am really not worth the trouble. I will go with you to your room, and
tell you what I have to communicate. You will repent