“Madame,” said Mother Bunch, bitterly, “I had no work, I was poor, they did not know me—and they thought they might propose anything to the likes of me.”
“And I tell you,” said Rodin, “that it was a double baseness on the part of the superior, to offer such temptation to misery, and it was doubly noble in you to refuse.”
“Sir,” said the sewing-girl, with modest embarrassment.
“Oh! I am not to be intimidated,” resumed Rod in. “Praise or blame, I speak out roughly what I think. Ask this dear young lady,” he added, with a glance at Adrienne. “I tell you plainly, that I think as well of you as she does herself.”
“Believe me, dear,” said Adrienne, “there are some sorts of praise which honor, recompense, and encourage; and M. Rodin’s is of the number. I know it,—yes, I know it.”
“Nay, my dear young lady, you must not ascribe to me all the honor of this judgment.”
“How so, sir?”
“Is not this dear girl the adopted sister of Agricola Baudoin, the gallant workman, the energetic and popular poet? Is not the affection of such a man the best of guarantees, and does it not enable us to judge, as it were, by the label?” added Rodin, with a smile.
“You are right, sir,” said Adrienne; “for, before knowing this dear girl, I began to feel deeply interested in her, from the day that her adopted brother spoke to me about her. He expressed himself with so much warmth, so much enthusiasm, that I at once conceived an esteem for the person capable of inspiring so noble an attachment.”
These words of Adrienne, joined to another circumstance, had such an effect upon their hearer, that her pale face became crimson. The unfortunate hunchback loved Agricola, with love as passionate as it was secret and painful: the most indirect allusion to this fatal sentiment occasioned her the most cruel embarrassment. Now, the moment Mdlle. de Cardoville spoke of Agricola’s attachment for Mother Bunch, the latter had encountered Rodin’s observing and penetrating look fixed upon her. Alone with Adrienne, the sempstress would have felt only a momentary confusion on hearing the name of the smith; but unfortunately she fancied that the Jesuit, who already filled her with involuntary fear, had seen into her heart, and read the secrets of that fatal love, of which she was the victim. Thence the deep blushes of the poor girl, and the embarrassment so painfully visible, that Adrienne was struck with it.