“Not from him—but perhaps from that powerful abbe, who is Gabriel’s superior, and has always patronized him since his first entrance at the seminary.”
“What abbe, mother?”
“Abbe d’Aigrigny.”
“True mother; before being a priest, he was a soldier he may be more accessible than others—and yet—”
“D’Aigrigny!” cried Dagobert, with an expression of hate and horror. “There is then mixed up with these treasons, a man who was a soldier before being a priest, and whose name is D’Aigrigny?”
“Yes, father; the Marquis d’Aigrigny—before the Restoration, in the service of Russia—but, in 1815, the Bourbons gave him a regiment.”
“It is he!” said Dagobert, in a hollow voice. “Always the same! like an evil spirit—to the mother, father, children.”
“What do you mean, father?”
“The Marquis d’Aigrigny!” replied Dagobert. “Do you know what is this man? Before he was a priest, he was the murderer of Rose and Blanche’s mother, because she despised his love. Before he was a priest, he fought against his country, and twice met General Simon face to face in war. Yes; while the general was prisoner at Leipsic, covered with wounds at Waterloo, the turncoat marquis triumphed with the Russians and English!—Under the Bourbons, this same renegade, loaded with honors, found himself once more face to face with the persecuted soldier of the empire. Between them, this time, there was a mortal duel—the marquis was wounded—General Simon was proscribed, condemned, driven into exile. The renegade, you say, has become a priest. Well! I am now certain, that it is he who has carried off Rose and Blanche, in order to wreak on them his hatred of their father and mother. It is the infamous D’Aigrigny, who holds them in his power. It is no longer the fortune of these children that I have to defend; it is their life—do you hear what I say?—their very life?”
“What, father! do you think this man capable—”