“She still lives there.”

“In that case, she must have received my letter.  I wished to write to her from the prison at Leipsic, but it was impossible.”

“From prison!  Have you just come out of prison?”

“Yes; I come straight from Germany, by the Elbe and Hamburg, and I should be still at Leipsic, but for an event which the Devil must have had a hand in—­a good sort of devil, though.”

“What do you mean?  Pray explain to me.”

“That would be difficult, for I cannot explain it to myself.  These little ladies,” he added, pointing with a smile to Rose and Blanche, “pretended to know more about it than I did, and were continually repeating:  ’It was the angel that came to our assistance, Dagobert—­the good angel we told thee of—­though you said you would rather have Spoil sport to defend us—­’”

“Gabriel, I am waiting for you,” said a stern voice, which made the missionary start.  They all turned round instantly, whilst the dog uttered a deep growl.

It was Rodin.  He stood in the doorway leading to the corridor.  His features were calm and impassive, but he darted a rapid, piercing glance at the soldier and sisters.

“Who is that man?” said Dagobert, very little prepossessed in favor of Rodin, whose countenance he found singularly repulsive.  “What the mischief does he want?”

“I must go with him,” answered Gabriel, in a tone of sorrowful constraint.  Then, turning to Rodin, he added:  “A thousand pardons!  I shall be ready in a moment.”

“What!” cried Dagobert, stupefied with amazement, “going the very instant we have just met?  No, by my faith! you shall not go.  I have too much to tell you, and to ask in return.  We will make the journey together.  It will be a real treat for me.”

“It is impossible.  He is my superior, and I must obey him.”

“Your superior?—­why, he’s in citizen’s dress.”

“He is not obliged to wear the ecclesiastical garb.”

“Rubbish! since he is not in uniform, and there is no provost-marshal in your troop, send him to the—­”

“Believe me, I would not hesitate a minute, if it were possible to remain.”

“I was right in disliking the phi of that man,” muttered Dagobert between his teeth.  Then he added, with an air of impatience and vexation:  “Shall I tell him that he will much oblige us by marching off by himself?”

“I beg you not to do so,” said Gabriel; “it would be useless; I know my duty, and have no will but my superior’s.  As soon as you arrive in Paris, I will come and see you, as also my adopted mother, and my dear brother, Agricola.”

“Well—­if it must be.  I have been a soldier, and know what subordination is,” said Dagobert, much annoyed.  “One must put a good face on bad fortune.  So, the day after to-morrow, in the Rue Brise-Miche, my boy; for they tell me I can be in Paris by to-morrow evening, and we set out almost immediately.  But I say—­there seems to be a strict discipline with you fellows!”