“I must write instantly to Rome, to announce this defeat, which has become an event of the first importance, because it overthrows immense hopes,” said Father d’Aigrigny, much depressed.

The reverend father had remained seated; pointing to a table, he said to Rodin, with an abrupt and haughty air: 

“Write!”

The socius placed his hat on the ground, answered with a respectful bow the command, and with stooping head and slanting walk, went to seat himself on a chair, that stood before a desk.  Then, taking pen and paper, he waited, silent and motionless, for the dictation of his superior.

“With your permission, princess?” said Father d’Aigrigny to Madame de Saint-Dizier.  The latter answered by an impatient wave of the hand, as if she reproached him for the formal demand at such a time.  The reverend father bowed, and dictated these words in a hoarse and hollow voice:  “All our hopes, which of late had become almost certainties, have been suddenly defeated.  The affair of the Rennepont inheritance, in spite of all the care and skill employed upon it, has completely and finally failed.  At the point to which matters had been brought, it is unfortunately worse than a failure; it is a most disastrous event for the Society, which was clearly entitled to this property, fraudulently withdrawn from a confiscation made in our favor.  My conscience at least bears witness, that, to the last moment, I did all that was possible to defend and secure our rights.  But I repeat, we must consider this important affair as lost absolutely and forever, and think no more about it.”

Thus dictating, Father d’Aigrigny’s back was turned towards Rodin.  At a sudden movement made by the socius, in rising and throwing his pen upon the table, instead of continuing to write, the reverend father turned round, and, looking at Rodin with profound astonishment, said to him:  “Well! what are you doing?”

“It is time to end this—­the man is mad!” said Rodin to himself, as he advanced slowly towards the fireplace.

“What! you quit your place—­you cease writing?” said the reverend father, in amazement.  Then, addressing the princess, who shared in his astonishment, he added, as he glanced contemptuously at the socius, “He is losing his senses.”

“Forgive him,” replied Mme. de Saint-Dizier; “it is, no doubt, the emotion caused by the ruin of this affair.”

“Thank the princess, return to your place, and continue to write,” said Father d’Aigrigny to Rodin, in a tone of disdainful compassion, as, with imperious finger, he pointed to the table.