“Ah, sir!” cried Dupont, interrupting Rodin; “what gratitude do I not owe you! It is Heaven that sends you to me!’
“Now, my dear sir, you flatter me in your turn; but I ought to tell you, that I’m obliged to annex a small condition to my support.”
“Oh, by all means! Only name it, sir—name it!”
“The person who is about to inhabit this mansion, is an old lady in every way worthy of veneration; Madame de la Sainte-Colombe is the name of this respectable—”
“What, sir?” said the bailiff, interrupting Rodin; “Madame de la Sainte Colombe the lady who has bought us out?”
“Do you know her?”
“Yes, sir, she came last week to see the estate. My wife persists that she is a great lady; but—between ourselves—judging by certain words that I heard her speak—”
“You are full of penetration, my dear M. Dupont. Madame de la Sainte Colombe is far from being a great lady. I believe she was neither more nor less than a milliner, under one of the wooden porticoes of the Palais Royal. You see, that I deal openly with you.”
“And she boasted of all the noblemen, French and foreign, who used to visit her!”
“No doubt, they came to buy bonnets for their wives! However, the fact is, that, having gained a large fortune and, after being in youth and middle age—indifferent—alas! more than indifferent to the salvation of her soul—Madame de la Sainte-Colombe is now in a likely way to experience grace—which renders her, as I told you, worthy of veneration, because nothing is so respectable as a sincere repentance—always providing it to be lasting. Now to make the good work sure and effectual, we shall need your assistance, my dear M. Dupont.”