“Why, yourself, for instance,” replied Rodin; “you are an example of what I advance.”
“Do you think it was mere chance, that brought about the scene at the White Falcon Inn, near Leipsic?”
“Who told you of that scene?” said Dagobert in astonishment.
“Where you accepted the challenge of Morok,” continued the Jesuit, without answering Dagobert’s question, “and so fell into a trap, or else refused it, and were then arrested for want of papers, and thrown into prison as a vagabond, with these poor children. Now, do you know the object of this violence? It was to prevent your being here on the 13th of February.”
“But the more I hear, sir,” said Adrienne, “the more I am alarmed at the audacity of the Abbe d’Aigrigny, and the extent of the means he has at his command. Really,” she resumed, with increasing surprise, “if your words were not entitled to absolute belief—”
“You would doubt their truth, madame?” said Dagobert. “It is like me. Bad as he is. I cannot think that this renegade had relations with a wild-beast showman as far off as Saxony; and then, how could he know that I and the children were to pass through Leipsic? It is impossible, my good man.”
“In fact, sir,” resumed Adrienne, “I fear that you are deceived by your dislike (a very legitimate one) of Abbe d’Aigrigny, and that you ascribe to him an almost fabulous degree of power and extent of influence.”
After a moment’s silence, during which Rodin looked first at Adrienne and then at Dagobert, with a kind of pity, he resumed. “How could the Abbe d’Aigrigny have your cross in his possession, if he had no connection with Morok?”
“That is true, sir,” said Dagobert; “joy prevented me from reflecting. But how indeed, did my cross come into your hands?”
“By means of the Abbe d’Aigrigny’s having precisely those relations with Leipsic, of which you and the young lady seem to doubt.”