Adrienne and Dagobert looked at each other with growing surprise. Mother Bunch, by an instinct of incredible force, continued to regard Rodin with invincible suspicion. Sometimes she stole a glance at him, as if trying to penetrate the mask of this man, who filled her with fear. At one moment, the Jesuit encountered her anxious gaze, obstinately fixed upon him; immediately he nodded to her with the greatest amenity. The young girl, alarmed at finding herself observed, turned away with a shudder.
“No, no, my dear young lady,” resumed Rodin, with a sigh, as he saw Mdlle. de Cardoville astonished at his silence; “do not question me on the subject of the Abbe d’Aigrigny’s power!”
“But, to persist, sir,” said Adrienne; “why this hesitation to answer? What do you fear?”
“Ah, my dear young lady,” said Rodin, shuddering, “those people are so powerful! their animosity is so terrible!”
“Be satisfied, sir; I owe you too much, for my support ever to fail you.”
“Ah, my dear young lady,” cried Rodin, as if hurt by the supposition; “think better of me, I entreat you. Is it for myself that I fear?—No, no; I am too obscure, too inoffensive; but it is for you, for Marshal Simon, for the other members of your family, that all is to be feared. Oh, my dear young lady! let me beg you to ask no questions. There are secrets which are fatal to those who possess them.”
“But, sir, is it not better to know the perils with which one is threatened?”
“When you know the manoeuvres of your enemy, you may at least defend yourself,” said Dagobert. “I prefer an attack in broad daylight to an ambuscade.”
“And I assure you,” resumed Adrienne, “the few words you have spoken cause me a vague uneasiness.”
“Well, if I must, my dear young lady,” replied the Jesuit, appearing to make a great effort, “since you do not understand my hints, I will be more explicit; but remember,” added he, in a deeply serious tone, “that you have persevered in forcing me to tell you what you had perhaps better not have known.”