Rodin?"

"A good old gentleman, who is just recovering from a long illness, that
almost carried him off. Lately, he has been getting better, but he is
still so weak and melancholy, that it makes one sad to see him. It is a
great pity, for there is not a better and more worthy gentleman in the
house--unless it be you, sir," added the servant, bowing with an air of
flattering respect.

"M. Rodin;" said Hardy, thoughtfully. "It is singular, that I should not
remember the name nor any circumstance connected with it."

"If you will give me your answer, sir," resumed the servant, "I will take
it to M. Rodin. He is now with Father d'Aigrigny, to whom he is bidding
farewell."

"Farewell?"

"Yes, sir, the post-horses have just come."

"Post-horses for whom?" asked Hardy.

"For Father d'Aigrigny, sir."

"He is going on a journey then!" said Hardy, with some surprise.

"Oh! he will not, I think be long absent," said the servant, with a
confidential air, "for the reverend father takes no one with him, and but
very light luggage. No doubt, the reverend father will come to say
farewell to you, sir, before he starts. But what answer shall I give M.
Rodin?"

The letter, just received, was couched in such polite terms--it spoke of
Gabriel with so much respect--that Hardy, urged moreover by a natural
curiosity, and seeing no motive to refuse this interview before quitting
the house, said to the servant: "Please tell M. Rodin, that if he will
give himself the trouble to come to me, I shall be glad to see him."

"I will let him know immediately, sir," answered the servant, bowing as
he left the room.

When alone, Hardy, while wondering who this M. Rodin could be, began to
make some slight preparations for his departure. For nothing in the world
would he have passed another night in this house; and, in order to keep
up his courage, he recalled every instant the mild, evangelical language
of Gabriel, just as the superstitious recite certain litanies, with a
view of escaping from temptation.

The servant soon returned, and said: "M. Rodin is here, sir."

"Beg him to walk in."

Rodin entered, clad in his long black dressing-gown, and with his old
silk cap in his hand. The servant then withdrew. The day was just
closing. Hardy rose to meet Rodin, whose features he did not at first
distinguish. But as the reverend father approached the window, Hardy
looked narrowly at him for an instant, and then uttered an exclamation,
wrung