“Unhappily, sir, my strength failed me, and I had the anguish to see you fall back into the sea.”

“I can say nothing more in the way of thanks than what I have already said,” answered Dagobert, with touching simplicity:  “in preserving these children you have done more for me than if you had saved my own life.  But what heart and courage!” added the soldier, with admiration; “and so young, with such a girlish look!”

“And so,” cried Blanche, joyfully, “our Gabriel came to your aid also?”

“Gabriel!” said Dagobert interrupting Blanche, and addressing himself to the priest.  “Is your name Gabriel?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Gabriel!” repeated the soldier, more and more surprised.  “And a priest!” added he.

“A priest of the foreign missions.”

“Who—­who brought you up?” asked the soldier, with increasing astonishment.

“An excellent and generous woman, whom I revere as the best of mothers:  for she had pity on me, a deserted infant, and treated me ever as her son.”

“Frances Baudoin—­was it not?” said the soldier, with deep emotion.

“It was, sir,” answered Gabriel, astonished in his turn.  “But how do you know this?”

“The wife of a soldier, eh?” continued Dagobert.

“Yes, of a brave soldier—­who, from the most admirable devotion, is even now passing his life in exile—­far from his wife—­far from his son, my dear brother—­for I am proud to call him by that name—­”

“My Agricola!—­my wife!—­when did you leave them?”

“What! is it possible!  You the father of Agricola?—­Oh!  I knew not, until now,” cried Gabriel, clasping his hands together, “I knew not all the gratitude that I owed to heaven!”

“And my wife! my child!” resumed Dagobert, in a trembling voice; “how are they? have you news of them?”

“The accounts I received, three months ago, were excellent.”

“No; it is too much,” cried Dagobert; “it is too much!” The veteran was unable to proceed; his feelings stifled his words, and fell back exhausted in a chair.

And now Rose and Blanche recalled to mind that portion of their father’s letter which related to the child named Gabriel, whom the wife of Dagobert had adopted; then they also yielded to transports of innocent joy.

“Our Gabriel is the same as yours—­what happiness!” cried Rose.

“Yes, my children! he belongs to you as well as to me.  We have all our part in him.”  Then, addressing Gabriel, the soldier added with affectionate warmth:  “Your hand, my brave boy! give me your hand!”

“Oh, sir! you are too good to me.”

“Yes—­that’s it—­thank me!—­after all thou has done for us!”

“Does my adopted mother know of your return?” asked Gabriel, anxious to escape from the praises of the soldier.

“I wrote to her five months since, but said that I should come alone; there was a reason for it, which I will explain by and by.  Does she still live in the Rue Brise-Miche?  It was there Agricola was born.”