At this infamous accusation, Gabriel could only raise his hands and eyes to heaven, and exclaim, with an expression of despair, “Oh, heaven!”

Once more exchanging a look of intelligence with Rodin, Father d’Aigrigny said to him, in a severe tone, as if reproaching him for his too savage frankness:  “I think you go too far.  Our dear son could only have acted in the base and cowardly manner you suggest, had he known his position as an heir; but, since he affirms the contrary, we are bound to believe him—­in spite of appearances.”

“Father,” said Gabriel, pale, agitated trembling, and with half suppressed grief and indignation, “I thank you, at least, for having suspended your judgment.  No, I am not a coward; for heaven is my witness, that I knew of no danger to which the Society was exposed.  Nor am I base and avaricious; for heaven is also my witness, that only at this moment I learn from you, father, that I may be destined to inherit property, and—­”

“One word, my dear son.  It is quite lately that I became informed of this circumstance, by the greatest chance in the world,” said Father d’Aigrigny, interrupting Gabriel; “and that was thanks to some family papers which your adopted mother had given to her confessor, and which were entrusted to us when you entered our college.  A little before your return from America, in arranging the archives of the Company, your file of papers fell into the hands of our father-attorney.  It was examined, and we thus learned that one of your paternal ancestors, to whom the house in which we now are belonged, left a will which is to be opened to day at noon.  Yesterday, we believed you one of us; our statutes command that we should possess nothing of our own; you had corroborated those statutes, by a donation in favor of the patrimony of the poor—­which we administer.  It was no longer you, therefore, but the Company, which, in my person, presented itself as the inheritor in your place, furnished with your titles, which I have here ready in order.  But now, my clear son, that you separate from us, you must present yourself in your own name.  We came here as the representatives of the poor, to whom in former days you piously abandoned whatever goods might fall to your share.  Now, on the contrary, the hope of a fortune changes your sentiments.  You are free to resume your gifts.”

Gabriel had listened to Father d’Aigrigny with painful impatience.  At length he exclaimed.  “Do you mean to say, father, that you think me capable of canceling a donation freely made, in favor of the Company, to which I am indebted for my education?  You believe me infamous enough to break my word, in the hope of possessing a modest patrimony?”

“This patrimony, my dear, son, may be small; but it may also be considerable.”