After a moment’s silence, he resumed in a tone full of affectionate warmth, as he stretched out his hand to Rodin, “You are come, and I am happy!”
“I understand your joy, my dear prince, for I come to take you out of prison—to open your cage for you. I had begged you to submit to a brief seclusion, entirely for your own interest.”
“Can I go out to-morrow?”
“To-day, my dear prince, if you please.”
The young Indian reflected for a moment, and then resumed, “I must have friends, since I am here in a palace that does not belong to me.”
“Certainly you have friends—excellent friends,” answered Rodin. At these words, Djalma’s countenance seemed to acquire fresh beauty. The most noble sentiments were expressed in his fine features; his large black eyes became slightly humid, and, after another interval of silence, he rose and said to Rodin with emotion: “Come!”
“Whither, dear prince?” said the other, much surprised.
“To thank my friends. I have waited three days. It is long.”
“Permit me dear prince—I have much to tell you on this subject—please to be seated.”
Djalma resumed his seat with docility. Rodin continued: “It is true that you have friends; or rather, you have a friend. Friends are rare.”