“Just now, sir, I was wrong; and when I am wrong, I acknowledge it. I abused and ill-treated you before witnesses; I will make you my apologies before witnesses.”
“But, my dear sir—I am much obliged to you—I am in a hurry.”
“I cannot help your being in a hurry. I tell you, I must have you come upstairs, directly—or else—or else,” resumed Dagobert, taking the hand of the Jesuit, and pressing it with as much cordiality as emotion, “or else the happiness you have caused the in returning my cross will not be complete.”
“Well, then, my good friend, let us go up.”
“And not only have you restored me my cross, for which I have wept many tears, believe me, unknown to any one,” cried Dagobert, much affected; “but the young lady told me, that, thanks to you, those poor children but tell me—no false joy-is it really true?—My God! is it really true?”
“Ah! ah! Mr. Inquisitive,” said Rodin, with a cunning smile. Then he added: “Be perfectly tranquil, my growler; you shall have your two angels back again.” And the Jesuit began to ascend the stairs.
“Will they be restored to me to-day?” cried Dagobert, stopping Rodin abruptly, by catching hold of his sleeve.
“Now, really, my good friend,” said the Jesuit, “let us come to the point. Are we to go up or down? I do not find fault, but you turn me about like a teetotum.”
“You are right. We shall be better able to explain things upstairs. Come with me—quick! quick!” said Dagobert, as, taking the Jesuit by the arm, he hurried him along, and brought him triumphantly into the room, where Adrienne and Mother Bunch had remained in much surprise at the soldier’s sudden disappearance.
“Here he is! here he is!” cried Dagobert, as he entered. “Luckily, I caught him at the bottom of the stairs.”