“And Gabriel never spoke of them since?”
“Never.”
Agricola, hearing this from his mother, looked at her with surprise, and exclaimed: “Then Gabriel has the same interest as the daughters of General Simon, or Mdlle. de Cardoville, to be in the Rue Saint-Francois to-morrow?”
“Certainly,” said Dagobert. “And now do you remember what he said to us, just after my arrival—that, in a few days, he would need our support in a serious matter?”
“Yes, father.”
“And he is kept a prisoner at his seminary! And he tells your mother that he has to complain of his superiors! and he asked us for our support with so sad and grave an air, that I said to him—”
“He would speak so, if about to engage in a deadly duel,” interrupted Agricola. “True, father! and yet you, who are a good judge of valor, acknowledged that Gabriel’s courage was equal to yours. For him so to fear his superiors, the danger must be great indeed.”
“Now that I have heard your mother, I understand it all,” said Dagobert. “Gabriel is like Rose and Blanche, like Mdlle. de Cardoville, like your mother, like all of us, perhaps—the victim of a secret conspiracy of wicked priests. Now that I know their dark machinations, their infernal perseverance, I see,” added the soldier, in a whisper, “that it requires strength to struggle against them. I had not the least idea of their power.”
“You are right, father; for those who are hypocritical and wicked do as much harm as those who are good and charitable, like Gabriel, do good. There is no more implacable enemy than a bad priest.”
