“Father!” cried Gabriel, with as much indignation as grief, “you do not think that of me—­you cannot think it.”

Without noticing the protestations of Gabriel, Father d’Aigrigny continued his imaginary picture of the dangers of the Company, which, far from being really in peril, was already beginning secretly to recover its influence.

“Oh! if our Company were now as powerful as it was some years ago,” resumed the reverend father; “if it were still surrounded by the respect and homage which are due to it from all true believers—­in spite of the abominable calumnies with which we are assailed—­then, my dear son, we should perhaps have hesitated to release you from your vows, and have rather endeavored to open your eyes to the light, and save you from the fatal delusion to which you are a prey.  But now that we are weak, oppressed, threatened on every side, it is our duty, it is an act of charity, not to force you to share in perils from which you have the prudence to wish to withdraw yourself.”

So, saying, Father d’Aigrigny cast a rapid glance at his socius, who answered with a nod of approbation, accompanied by a movement of impatience that seemed to say:  “Go on! go on!”

Gabriel was quite overcome.  There was not in the whole world a heart more generous, loyal, and brave than his.  We may judge of what he must have suffered, on hearing the resolution he had come to thus misinterpreted.

“Father,” he resumed, in an agitated voice, whilst his eyes filled with tears, “your words are cruel and unjust.  You know that I am not a coward.”

“No,” said Rodin, in his sharp, cutting voice, addressing Father d’Aigrigny, and pointing to Gabriel with a disdainful look; “your dear son is only prudent.”

These words from Rodin made Gabriel start; a slight blush colored his pale cheeks; his large and blue eyes sparkled with a generous anger; then, faithful to the precepts of Christian humility and resignation, he conquered this irritable impulse, hung down his head, and, too much agitated to reply, remained silent, and brushed away an unseen tear.  This tear did not escape the notice of the socius.  He saw in it no doubt, a favorable symptom, for he exchanged a glance of satisfaction with Father d’Aigrigny.  The latter was about to touch on a question of great interest, so, notwithstanding his self-command, his voice trembled slightly; but encouraged, or rather pushed on by a look from Rodin, who had become extremely attentive, he said to Gabriel:  “Another motive obliges us not to hesitate in releasing you from your vow, my dear son.  It is a question of pure delicacy.  You probably learned yesterday from your adopted mother, that you will perhaps be called upon to take possession of an inheritance, of which the value is unknown.”

Gabriel raised his head hastily and said to Father d’Aigrigny:  “As I have already stated to M. Rodin, my adopted mother only talked of her scruples of conscience, and I was completely ignorant of the existence of the inheritance of which you speak.”