Then, reflecting that the retort upon Rodin would be self-accusation, he appeared to give way to an excess of emotion, and resumed with bitterness:  “Ah, sir, you are the last person that I should have thought capable of this odious denunciation.  It is shameful!”

“And who had a better right than I to denounce this infamy?” answered Rodin, in a rude, overbearing tone.  “Was I not in a position to learn—­unfortunately, too late—­the nature of the conspiracy of which Mdlle. de Cardoville and others have been the victims?  Then, what was my duty as an honest man?  Why, to inform the magistrate, to prove what I set forth, and to accompany him hither.  That is what I have done.”

“So, sir,” said the doctor, addressing the magistrate, “it is not only myself that this man accuses, but he dares also—­”

“I accuse the Abbe d’Aigrigny,” resumed Rodin, in a still louder and more imperative tone, interrupting the doctor, “I accuse the Princess de Saint-Dizier, I accuse you, sir—­of having, from a vile motive of self interest, confined Mdlle. de Cardoville in this house, and the two daughters of Marshal Simon in the neighboring convent.  Is that clear?”

“Alas! it is only too true,” said Adrienne, hastily.  “I have seen those poor children all in tears, making signs of distress to me.”

The accusation of Rodin, with regard to the orphans, was a new and fearful blow for Dr. Baleinier.  He felt perfectly convinced that the traitor had passed clear over to the enemy’s camp.  Wishing therefore to put an end to this embarrassing scene, he tried to put a good face on the matter, in spite of his emotion, and said to the magistrate: 

“I might confine myself, sir, to silence—­disdaining to answer such accusations, till a judicial decision had given them some kind of authority.  But, strong in a good conscience I address myself to Mdlle. de Cardoville, and I beg her to say if this very morning I did not inform her, that her health would soon be sufficiently restored to allow her to leave this house.  I conjure her, in the name of her well-known love of truth to state if such was not my language, when I was alone with her—­”

“Come, sir!” said Rodin, interrupting Baleinier with an insolent air; “suppose that, from pure generosity, this dear young lady were to admit as much—­what will it prove in your favor?—­why, nothing at all.”

“What, sir,” cried the doctor, “do you presume—­”

“I presume to unmask you, without asking your leave.  What have you just told us?  Why, that being alone with Mdlle. de Cardoville, you talked to her as if she were really mad.  How very conclusive!”

“But, sir—­” cried the doctor.

“But, sir,” resumed Rodin, without allowing him to continue, “it is evident that, foreseeing the possibility of what has occurred to-day, and, to provide yourself with a hole to creep out at, you have pretended to believe your own execrable falsehood, in presence of this poor young lady, that you might afterwards call in aid the evidence of your own assumed conviction.  Come, sir! such stories will not go down with people of common sense or common humanity.”