Rodin, who exercised over him a kind of magnetic fascination.  The half-caste, almost a wild beast in human form, saw something supernatural in the infernal genius of Rodin.  And the latter, too sagacious not to have discovered the savage devotion of this wretch, had made, as we have seen, good use of him, is bringing about the tragical termination of the loves of Adrienne and Djalma.  But what excited to an incredible degree the admiration of Faringhea, was what he knew of the Society of Jesus.  This immense, occult power, which undermined the world by its subterraneous ramifications, and reached its ends by diabolical means, had inspired the half-caste with a wild enthusiasm.  And if anything in the world surpassed his fanatical admiration for Rodin, it was his blind devotion to the Company of Ignatius de Loyola, which, as he said, could make corpses that walk about.  Hid in the shadow of the organ-loft, Faringhea was reflecting deeply on these things, when footsteps were heard, and Rodin entered the chapel, accompanied by his socius, the little one-eyed father.

Whether from absence of mind, or that the shadow of the orange-loft completely concealed the half-caste, Rodin dipped his fingers into the font without perceiving Faringhea, who stood motionless as a statue, though a cold sweat streamed from his brow.  The prayer of Rodin was, as may be supposed, short; he was in haste to get to the Rue Saint-Francois.  After kneeling down with Father Caboccini for a few seconds, he rose, bowed respectfully to the altar, and returned towards the door, followed by his socius.  At the moment Rodin approached the font he perceived the tall figure of the half-caste standing out from the midst of the dark shadow; advancing a little, Faringhea bowed respectfully to Rodin, who said to him, in a low voice; “Come to me at two o’clock.”

So saying, Rodin stretched forth his hand to dip it into the holy water; but Faringhea spared him the trouble, by offering him the sprinkling brush, which generally stood in the font.

Pressing between his dirty fingers the damp hairs of the brush, which the half-caste held by the handle, Rodin wetted his thumb and forefinger, and, according to custom, traced the sign of the cross upon his forehead.  Then, opening the door of the chapel, he went out, after again repeating to Faringhea:  “Come to me at two o’clock.”

Thinking he would also make use of the sprinkling-brush, which, Faringhea, still motionless, held with a trembling hand, Father Caboccini stretched out his fingers to reach it, when the half-breed, as if determined to confine his favors to Rodin, hastily withdrew the instrument.  Deceived in his expectation, Father Caboccini lost no time in following Rodin, whom he was not to leave that day for a single moment, and, getting into a hackney-coach with him, set out for the Rue Saint-Francois.  It is impossible to describe the look which the half breed fixed upon Rodin as the latter quitted the chapel.  Left alone in