“Well, father! if it were a king’s fortune,” cried Gabriel, with proud and noble indifference, “I should not speak otherwise—­and I have, I think, the right to be believed listen to my fixed resolution.  The Company to which I belong runs, you say, great dangers.  I will inquire into these dangers.  Should they prove threatening—­strong in the determination which morally separates me from you—­I will not leave you till I see the end of your perils.  As for the inheritance, of which you believe me so desirous, I resign it to you formally, father, as I once freely promised.  My only wish is, that this property may be employed for the relief of the poor.  I do not know what may be the amount of this fortune, but large or small, it belongs to the Company, because I have thereto pledged my word.  I have told you, father, that my chief desire is to obtain a humble curacy in some poor village—­poor, above all—­because there my services will be most useful.  Thus, father, when a man, who never spoke falsehood in his life, affirms to you, that he only sighs for so humble an existence, you ought, I think, to believe him incapable of snatching back, from motives of avarice, gifts already made.”

Father d’Aigrigny had now as much trouble to restrain his joy, as he before had to conceal his terror.  He appeared, however, tolerably calm, and said to Gabriel:  “I did not expect less from you, my dear son.”

Then he made a sign to Rodin, to invite him to interpose.  The latter perfectly understood his superior.  He left the chimney, drew near to Gabriel, and leaned against the table, upon which stood paper and inkstand.  Then, beginning mechanically to beat the tattoo with the tips of his coarse fingers, in all their array of flat and dirty nails, he said to Father d’Aigrigny:  “All this is very fine! but your dear son gives you no security for the fulfilment of his promise except an oath—­and that, we know, is of little value.”

“Sir!” cried Gabriel

“Allow me,” said Rodin, coldly.  “The law does not acknowledge our existence and therefore can take no cognizance of donations made in favor of the Company.  You might resume to-morrow what you are pleased to give us to-day.”

“But my oath, sir!” cried Gabriel.

Rodin looked at him fixedly, as he answered:  “Your oath?  Did you not swear eternal obedience to the Company, and never to separate from us?—­and of what weight now are these oaths?”

For a moment Gabriel was embarrassed; but, feeling how false was this logic, he rose, calm and dignified, went to seat himself at the desk, took up a pen, and wrote as follows: 

“Before God, who sees and hears me, and in the presence of you, Father d’Aigrigny and M. Rodin, I renew and confirm, freely and voluntarily, the absolute donation made by me to the Society of Jesus, in the person of the said Father d’Aigrigny, of all the property which may hereafter belong to me, whatever may be its value.  I swear, on pain of infamy, to perform tis irrevocable promise, whose accomplishment I regard, in my soul and conscience, as the discharge of a debt, and the fulfilment of a pious duty.