“Nothing?” cried his master—­and his painful emotion formed a strange contrast to his late haughty and implacable expression of countenance—­“nothing? no news of my mother?—­Thirty-six hours more, then, of anxiety.”

“It seems to me, that, if the princess had bad news to give, she would have written.  Probably the improvement goes on.”

“You are doubtless right, Rodin—­but no matter—­I am far from easy.  If, to-morrow, the news should not be completely satisfactory, I set out for the estate of the princess.  Why would my mother pass the autumn in that part of the country?  The environs of Dunkirk do not, I fear, agree with her.”

After a few moments’ silence, he added, as he continued to walk:  “Well—­these letters—­whence are they?”

Rodin looked at the post-marks, and replied:  “Out of the four there are three relative to the great and important affairs of the medals.”

“Thank heaven!—­provided the news be favorable,” cried his master, with an expression of uneasiness, which showed how much importance he attached to this affair.

“One is from Charlestown, and no doubt relative to Gabriel, the missionary,” answered Rodin; “this other from Batavia, and no doubt concerns the Indian, Djalma.  The third is from Leipsic, and will probably confirm that received yesterday, in which the lion-tamer, Morok, informed us, that, in accordance with his orders, and without his being compromised in any way, the daughters of General Simon would not be able to continue their journey.”

At the name of General Simon, a cloud passed over the features of Rodin’s master.

CHAPTER XVI.

The orders.

The principal houses correspond with that in Paris; they are also in direct communication with the General, who resides at Rome.  The correspondence of the Jesuits so active, various, and organized in so wonderful a manner, has for its object to supply the heads with all the information they can require.  Every day, the General receives a host of reports, which serve to check one another.  In the central house, at Rome, are immense registers, in which are inscribed the names of all the Jesuits, of their adherents, and of all the considerable persons, whether friends or enemies, with whom they have any connection.  In these registers are reported, without alteration, hatred or passion the facts relating to the life of each individual.  It is the most gigantic biographical collection that has ever been formed.  The frailties of a woman, the secret errors of a statesman, are chronicled in this book with the same cold impartiality.  Drawn up for the purpose of being useful, these biographies are necessarily exact.  When the Jesuits wish to influence an individual, they have but to turn to this book, and they know immediately his life, his character, his parts, his faults, his projects, his family, his friends, his most sacred ties.  Conceive, what