essed in his fine features; his large black
eyes became slightly humid, and, after another interval of silence, he
rose and said to Rodin with emotion: "Come!"

"Whither, dear prince?" said the other, much surprised.

"To thank my friends. I have waited three days. It is long."

"Permit me dear prince--I have much to tell you on this subject--please
to be seated."

Djalma resumed his seat with docility. Rodin continued: "It is true that
you have friends; or rather, you have a friend. Friends are rare."

"What are you?"

"Well, then, you have two friends, my dear prince--myself, whom you know,
and one other, whom you do not know, and who desires to remain unknown to
you."

"Why?"

"Why?" answered Rodin, after a moment's embarrassment. "Because the
happiness he feels in giving you these proofs of his friendship and even
his own tranquillity, depend upon preserving this mystery."

"Why should there be concealment when we do good?"

"Sometimes, to conceal the good we do, my dear prince."

"I profit by this friendship; why should he conceal himself from one?"
These repeated questions of the young Indian appeared to puzzle Rodin,
who, however, replied: "I have told you, my dear prince, that your secret
friend would perhaps have his tranquillity compromised, if he were
known."

"If he were known--as my friend?"

"Exactly so, dear prince."

The countenance of Djalma immediately assumed an appearance of sorrowful
dignity; he raised his head proudly, and said in a stern and haughty
voice: "Since this friend hides himself from me, he must either be
ashamed of me, or there is reason for me to be ashamed of him. I only
accept hospitality from those who are worthy of me, and who think me
worthy of them. I leave this house." So saying, Djalma rose with such an
air of determination, that Rodin exclaimed: "Listen to me, my dear
prince. Allow me to tell you, that your petulance and touchiness are
almost incredible. Though we have endeavored to remind you of your
beautiful country, we are here in Europe, in France, in the centre of
Paris. This consideration may perhaps a little modify your views. Listen
to me, I conjure you."

Notwithstanding his complete ignorance of certain social
conventionalisms, Djalma had too much good sense and uprightness, not to
appreciate reason, when it appeared reasonable. The words of Rodin calmed
him. With that ingenuous modesty, with which natures full of strength and
generosity are almo