“You were overwhelmed by another piece of painful intelligence,” said Rodin, interrupting M. Hardy; “I shall never forget the sudden arrival of that poor woman, who, pale and affrighted, and without considering my presence, came to inform you that a person who was exceedingly dear to you had quitted Paris abruptly.”
“Yes, sir; and, without stopping to thank you, I set out immediately,” answered Hardy, with a mournful air.
“Do you know, sir,” said Rodin, after a moment’s silence, “that there are sometimes very strange coincidences?”
“To what do you allude, sir?”
“While I went to inform you that you were betrayed in so infamous a manner—I was myself—”
Rodin paused, as if unable to control his deep emotion, and his countenance wore the expression of such overpowering grief that Hardy said to him, with interest: “What ails you, sir?”
“Forgive me,” replied Rodin, with a bitter smile. “Thanks to the ghostly counsels of the angelic Abbe Gabriel, I have reached a sort of resignation. Still, there are certain memories which affect me with the most acute pain. I told you,” resumed Rodin, in a firmer voice, “or was going to tell you, that the very day after that on which I informed you of the treachery practised against you, I was myself the victim of a frightful deception. An adopted son—a poor unfortunate child, whom I had brought up—” He paused again, drew his trembling hand over his eyes, and added: “Pardon me, sir, for speaking of matters which must be indifferent to you. Excuse the intrusive sorrow of a poor, broken hearted old man!”
“I have suffered too much myself, sir, to be indifferent to any kind of sorrow,” replied Hardy. “Besides, you are no stranger to me—for you did me a real service—and we both agree in our veneration for the same young priest.”
“The Abbe Gabriel!” cried Rodin, interrupting Hardy; “ah, sir! he is my deliverer, my benefactor. If you knew all his care and devotion, during my long illness, caused by intense grief—if you knew the ineffable sweetness of his counsels—”
“I know them, sir,” cried Hardy; “oh, yes! I know how salutary is the influence.”