"Mme. Frances, be comforted," whispered the sempstress, who had drawn near to Dagobert's wife. "Agricola will not suffer his father to expose himself thus."
After a moment's hesitation, the smith resumed, in an agitated voice: "I know you too well, father, to think of stopping you by the fear of death."
"Of what danger, then, do you speak?"
"Of a danger from which even you will shrink, brave as you are," said the young man, in a voice of emotion, that forcibly struck his father.
"Agricola," said the soldier, roughly and severely, "that remark is cowardly, you are insulting."
"Father—"
"Cowardly!" resumed the soldier, angrily; "because it is cowardice to wish to frighten a man from his duty—insulting! because you think me capable of being so frightened."
"Oh, M. Dagobert!" exclaimed the sewing-girl, "you do not understand
Agricola."
"I understand him too well," answered the soldier harshly.
Painfully affected by the severity of his father, but firm in his resolution, which sprang from love and respect, Agricola resumed, whilst his heart beat violently. "Forgive me, if I disobey you, father; but, were you to hate me for it, I must tell you to what you expose yourself by scaling at night the walls of a convent—"