“It is all true,” answered Gabriel.

“The deed was prepared by me,” added the notary.

“But Gabriel could only give you what belonged to him,” cried Dagobert.  “The dear boy never supposed that you were making use of him to rob other people.”

“Do me the favor, sir, to allow me to explain myself,” replied Father d’Aigrigny, courteously; “you can afterwards make answer.”

Dagobert repressed with difficulty his painful impatience.  The reverend father continued:  “The Abbe Gabriel has therefore, by the double engagement of an oath and a legal act, confirmed his donation.  Much more,” resumed Father d’Aigrigny:  “when to his great astonishment and to ours, the enormous amount of the inheritance became known, the Abbe Gabriel, faithful to his own admirable generosity, far from repenting of his gifts, consecrated them once more by a pious movement of gratitude to Providence—­for M. Notary will doubtless remember, that, after embracing the Abbe Gabriel with transport, and telling him that he was a second Vincent de Paul in charity, I took him by the hand, and we both knelt down together to thank heaven for having inspired him with the thought too offer these immense riches to the Greater Glory of the Lord.”

“That is true, also,” said Gabriel, honestly; “so long as myself was concerned, though I might be astounded for a moment by the revelation of so enormous a fortune, I did not think for an instant of cancelling the donation I had freely made.”

“Under these circumstances,” resumed Father d’Aigrigny, “the hour fixed for the settlement of the inheritance having struck, and Abbe Gabriel being the only heir that presented himself, he became necessarily the only legitimate possessor of this immense wealth—­enormous, no doubt—­and charity makes me rejoice that it is enormous, for, thanks to it, many miseries will be relieved and many tears wiped away.  But, all on a sudden, here comes this gentleman,” said Father d’Aigrigny, pointing to Dagobert; “and, under some delusion, which I forgive from the bottom of my soul, and which I am sure he will himself regret, accuses me, with insults and threats, with having carried off (I know not where) some persons (I know not whom), in order to prevent their being here at the proper time—­”

“Yes, I accuse you of this infamy!” cried the soldier exasperated by the calmness and audacity of the reverend father:  “yes—­and I will—­”

“Once again, sir, I conjure you to be so good as to let me finish; you can reply afterwards,” said Father d’Aigrigny, humbly, in the softest and most honeyed accents.

“Yes, I will reply, and confound you!” cried Dagobert.

“Let him finish, father.  You can speak presently,” said Agricola.