Dagobert had as it were, till now stood in the path of the Jesuit and the twins by keeping close to the door; but, after a moments reflection, he shrugged his shoulders, stepped to one side, and said calmly: “I was an old fool. Come, young ladies; if you find Madame Augustine in the house, I will allow you to remain with her.”
Surprised at these words, the girls stood motionless and irresolute.
“If our governess is not here, where is she, then?” said Rose.
“You think, perhaps, that I am going to tell you in the excitement in which you are!”
“She is dead!” cried Rose growing pale.
“No, no—be calm,” said the soldier, hastily; “I swear to you, by your father’s honor, that she is not dead. At the first appearance of the disorder, she begged to be removed from the house, fearing the contagion for those in it.”
“Good and courageous woman!” said Rose tenderly, “And you will not allow us—”
“I will not allow you to go out, even if I have to lock you up in your room,” cried the soldier, again stamping with rage; then, remembering that the blunderhead’s indiscretion was the sole cause of this unfortunate incident, he added, with concentrated fury: “Oh! I will break my stick upon that rascal’s back.”
So saying, he turned towards the door, where Rodin still stood, silent and attentive, dissembling with habitual impassibility the fatal hopes he had just conceived in his brain. The girls, no longer doubting the removal of their governess, and convinced that Dagobert would not tell them whither they had conveyed her, remained pensive and sad.
At sight of the priest, whom he had forgotten for the moment, the soldier’s rage increased, and he said to him abruptly: “Are you still there?”