“Marshal,” said Mdlle. de Cardoville, “just now we were expecting your dear children:  unfortunately, we have been deceived in our hopes.”  Pierre Simon first looked at Adrienne without answering, as if he had not heard or understood.—­“But console yourself,” resumed the young girl; “we have yet no reason to despair.”

“To despair?” repeated the marshaling by turns at Mdlle. de Cardoville despair?—­of what, in heaven’s name?”

“Of seeing your children, marshal,” said Adrienne; “the presence of their father will facilitate the search.”

“The search!” cried Pierre Simon.  “Then, my daughters are not here?”

“No, sir,” said Adrienne, at length; “they have been taken from the affectionate care of the excellent man who brought them from Russia, to be removed to a convent.”

“Wretch!” cried Pierre Simon, advancing towards Dagobert, with a menacing and terrible aspect; “you shall answer to me for all!”

“Oh, sir, do not blame him!” cried Mdlle. de Cardoville.

“General,” said Dagobert, in a tone of mournful resignation, “I merit your anger.  It is my fault.  Forced to absent myself from Paris, I entrusted the children to my wife; her confessor turned her head, and persuaded her that your daughters would be better in a convent than at our house.  She believed him, and let them be conveyed there.  Now they say at the convent, that they do not know where they are.  This is the truth:  do what you will with me; I have only to silently endure.”

“This is infamous!” cried Pierre Simon, pointing to Dagobert, with a gesture of despairing indignation.  “In whom can a man confide, if he has deceived me?  Oh, my God!”

“Stay, marshal! do not blame him,” repeated Mdlle. de Cardoville; “do not think so!  He has risked life and honor to rescue your children from the convent.  He is not the only one who has failed in this attempt.  Just now, a magistrate—­despite his character and authority—­was not more successful.  His firmness towards the superior, his minute search of the convent, were all in vain.  Up to this time it has been impossible to find these unfortunate children.”

“But where’s this convent!” cried Marshal Simon, raising his head, his face all pale and agitated with grief and rage.  “Where is it?  Do these vermin know what a father is, deprived of his children?” At the moment when Marshal Simon, turning towards Dagobert, pronounced these words, Rodin, holding Rose and Blanche by the hand, appeared at the open door of the chamber.  On hearing the marshal’s exclamation, he started with surprise, and a flash of diabolical joy lit up his grim countenance—­for he had not expected to meet Pierre Simon so opportunely.

Mdlle. de Cardoville was the first to perceive the presence of Rodin.  She exclaimed, as she hastened towards him:  “Oh!  I was not deceived.  He is still our providence.”

“My poor children!” said Rodin, in a low voice, to the young girls, as he pointed to Pierre Simon, “this is your father!”