Still impassible, Rodin raised his flabby eyelids, fixed for hardly a second his little reptile eye upon the count, and darted at him one of his rapid, cold, and piercing glances—­and then the livid eyelid again covered the dull eye of that corpse-like face.

“Not having the disadvantage of being an old wolf, and still less an old thief,” said Rodin, quietly, “you will permit me, sir, to take no account of the pursuit of hunters and police.  As for the reproaches made me, I have a very simple method of answering—­I do not say of justifying myself—­I never justify myself—­”

“You don’t say!” said the count.

“Never,” resumed Rodin coolly; “my acts are sufficient for that.  I will then simply answer that seeing the deep, violent, almost fearful impression made by this lady on the prince—­”

“Let this assurance which you give me of the prince’s love,” said Adrienne interrupting Rodin with an enchanting smile, “absolve you of all the evil you wished to do me.  The sight of our happiness be your only punishment!”

“It may be that I need neither absolution nor punishment, for, as I have already had the honor to observe to the count, my dear young lady, the future will justify my acts.  Yes; it was my duty to tell the prince that you loved another than himself, and to tell you that he loved another than yourself—­all in your mutual interest.  That my attachment for you may have misled me, is possible—­I am not infallible; but, after my past conduct towards you, my dear young lady, I have, perhaps, some right to be astonished at seeing myself thus treated.  This is not a complaint.  If I never justify myself, I never complain either.”

“Now really, there is something heroic in all this, my good sir,” said the count.  “You do not condescend to complain or justify yourself, with regard to the evil you have done.”

“The evil I have done?” said Rodin, looking fixedly at the count.  “Are we playing at enigmas?”

“What, sir!” cried the count, with indignation:  “is it nothing, by your falsehoods, to have plunged the prince into so frightful a state of despair, that he has twice attempted his life?  Is it nothing, by similar falsehoods, to have induced this lady to believe so cruel and complete an error, that but for the resolution I have to-day taken, it might have led to the most fatal consequences?”

“And will you do me the honor to tell me, sir, what interest I could have in all this despair and error, admitting even that I had wished to produce them?”

“Some great interest no doubt,” said the count, bluntly; “the more dangerous that it is concealed.  You are one of those, I see, to whom the woes of others are pleasure and profit.”

“That is really too much, sir,” said Rodin, bowing; “I should be quite contented with the profit.”

“Your impudent coolness will not deceive me; this is a serious matter,” said the count.  “It is impossible that so perfidious a piece of roguery can be an isolated act.  Who knows but this may still be one of the fruits of Madame de Saint-Dizier’s hatred for Mdlle. de Cardoville?”