"I suppose," continued Rodolph, "there is no doubt as to his being the same Jacques Ferrand who practises as a notary in the Rue du Sentier?"
"None whatever, sir," answered Morel; "but do you know him?" Then, assailed afresh by his fears for Louise, the lapidary continued: "Since you overheard all our conversation, tell me, sir,—tell me, do you not think I have just cause to hate this man, as I do? For who knows but my daughter—my Louise—"
The unhappy artisan could not proceed; he groaned with anguish, and concealed his face with his hands.
Rodolph easily divined the nature of his apprehensions.
"The very step taken by the notary ought to reassure your mind," said he, "as, there can be no doubt, he was instigated by revenge for your daughter's rejection of his improper advances to proceed to the hostile measures adopted. However, I have every reason to believe he is a very bad and dangerous man; and if my suspicions respecting him are realised," said Rodolph, after a few moments' silence, "then rely on Providence to punish him. If the just vengeance of the Almighty seems occasionally to slumber, it awakens, sooner or later."
"He is both rich and hypocritical!" cried the lapidary.
"At the moment of your deepest despair, a guardian angel appeared to save you from ruin; so, at the moment when least expected, will an inexorable Avenger call upon the notary to atone for his past crimes, if he be guilty."
At this moment Rigolette came out of the miserable garret belonging to Morel; the kind-hearted girl had evidently been shedding tears, and was trying to dry her eyes before she descended the stairs. Directly Rodolph perceived her, he exclaimed:
"Tell me, my good neighbour, will it not be much better for M. Morel and his family to occupy my chamber while they are waiting till his benefactress, whose agent I am, shall have found a comfortable residence for him?"
Rigolette surveyed Rodolph with an air of unfeigned surprise.