Her agitated features expressed a lively uneasiness.  Extremely surprised, Mdlle. de Cardoville exclaimed:  “What do you say?”

“M.  Rodin betrays you, madame.”

“M.  Rodin?  Impossible!”

“Oh, madame! my presentiments did not deceive me.”

“Your presentiments?”

“The first time I saw M. Rodin, I was frightened in spite of myself.  My heart sank within me, and I trembled—­for you, madame.”

“For me?” said Adrienne.  “Why did you not tremble for yourself, my poor friend?”

“I do not know, madame; but such was my first impression.  And this fear was so invincible, that, notwithstanding the kindness that M. Rodin showed my sister, he frightened me, none the less.”

“That is strange.  I can understand as well as any one the almost irresistible influence of sympathies or aversions; but, in this instance—­However,” resumed Adrienne, after a moment’s reflection, “no matter for that; how have these suspicions been changed to certainty?”

“Yesterday, I went to take to my sister Cephyse, the assistance that M. Rodin had given me, in the name of a charitable person.  I did not find Cephyse at the friend’s who had taken care of her; I therefore begged the portress, to inform my sister that I would call again this morning.  That is what I did; but you must excuse me, madame, some necessary details.”

“Speak, speak, my dear.”

“The young girl who had received my sister,” said Mother Bunch, with embarrassment, casting down her eyes and blushing, “does not lead a very regular life.  A person, with whom she has gone on several parties of pleasure, one M. Dumoulin, had informed her of the real name of M. Rodin, who has a kind of lodging in that house, and there goes by the name of Charlemagne.”

“That is just what he told us at Dr. Baleinier’s; and, the day before yesterday, when I again alluded to the circumstance, he explained to me the necessity in which he was, for certain reasons, to have a humble retreat in that remote quarter—­and I could not but approve of his motives.”

“Well, then! yesterday, M. Rodin received a visit from the Abbe d’Aigrigny.”

“The Abbe d’Aigrigny!” exclaimed Mdlle. de Cardoville.

“Yes, madame; he remained for two hours shut up with M. Rodin.”

“My child, you must have been deceived.”

“I was told, madame, that the Abbe d’Aigrigny had called in the morning to see M. Rodin; not finding him at home, he had left with the portress his name written on a slip of paper, with the words, ’I shall return in two hours.’  The girl of whom I spoke, madame, had seen this slip of paper.  As all that concerns M. Rodin appears mysterious enough, she had the curiosity to wait for M. d’Aigrigny in the porter’s lodge, and, about two hours afterwards, he indeed returned, and saw M. Rodin.”

“No, no,” said Adrienne, shuddering; “it is impossible.  There must be some mistake.”