“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.”