“I thank you, father.”

“Soon, my dear son, you will be delivered from these bonds, which you deem so heavy; and the men you abandon will not the less continue to pray for you, that God may preserve you from still greater wanderings.  You think yourself released with regard to us, my dear son; but we do not think ourselves released with regard to you.  It is not thus that we can get rid of the habit of paternal attachment.  What would you have?  We look upon ourselves as bound to our children, by the very benefits with which we have loaded them.  You were poor, and an orphan; we stretched out our arms to you, as much from the interest which you deserved, my dear son, as to spare your excellent adopted mother too great a burden.”

“Father,” said Gabriel, with suppressed emotion, “I am not ungrateful.”

“I wish to believe so, my dear son.  For long years, we gave to you, as to our beloved child, food for the body and the soul.  It pleases you now to renounce and abandon us.  Not only do we consent to it—­but now that I have penetrated the true motives of your rupture with us, it is my duty to release you from your vow.”

“Of what motives do you speak, Father?”

“Alas! my dear son, I understand your fears.  Dangers menace us—­you know it well.”

“Dangers, father?” cried Gabriel.

“It is impossible, my dear son, that you should not be aware that, since the fall of our legitimate sovereigns, our natural protectors, revolutionary impiety becomes daily more and more threatening.  We are oppressed with persecutions.  I can, therefore, comprehend and appreciate, my dear son, the motive which under such circumstances, induces you to separate from us.”

“Father!” cried Gabriel, with as much indignation as grief, “you do not think that of me—­you cannot think it.”

Without noticing the protestations of Gabriel, Father d’Aigrigny continued his imaginary picture of the dangers of the Company, which, far from being really in peril, was already beginning secretly to recover its influence.

“Oh! if our Company were now as powerful as it was some years ago,” resumed the reverend father; “if it were still surrounded by the respect and homage which are due to it from all true believers—­in spite of the abominable calumnies with which we are assailed—­then, my dear son, we should perhaps have hesitated to release you from your vows, and have rather endeavored to open your eyes to the light, and save you from the fatal delusion to which you are a prey.  But now that we are weak, oppressed, threatened on every side, it is our duty, it is an act of charity, not to force you to share in perils from which you have the prudence to wish to withdraw yourself.”

So, saying, Father d’Aigrigny cast a rapid glance at his socius, who answered with a nod of approbation, accompanied by a movement of impatience that seemed to say:  “Go on! go on!”

Gabriel was quite overcome.  There was not in the whole world a heart more generous, loyal, and brave than his.  We may judge of what he must have suffered, on hearing the resolution he had come to thus misinterpreted.