make a bad choice, she rather feared, that she should not find any from
whom to choose, so pure and perfect was her taste.  And, even had she met
with her own ideal, she had views so singular and so just, so
extraordinary and yet so sensible, with regard to the independence and
dignity of woman, that, inexorably determined to make no concession upon
this head, she asked herself if the man of her choice would ever accept
the hitherto unheard-of conditions that she meant to impose.  In
recalling to her remembrance the possible suitors that she had met in the
world, she remembered also the dark, but true picture, which Rodin had
drawn with so much caustic bitterness.  She remembered, too, not without
a certain pride, the encouragement this man had given her, not by
flattery, but by advising her to follow out and accomplish a great,
generous, and beautiful design.  The current or the caprice of fancy soon
brought Adrienne to think of Djalma.  Whilst she congratulated herself on
having paid to her royal kinsman the duties of a kingly hospitality, the
young lady was far from regarding the prince as the hero of her future.

And first she said to herself, not unreasonably, that this half-savage
boy, with passions, if not untamable, yet untamed, transported on a
sudden into the midst of a refined civilization, would be inevitably
destined to fiery trials and violent transformations.  Now Mdlle. de
Cardoville, having nothing masculine or despotic in her character, had no
wish to civilize the young savage.  Therefore, notwithstanding the
interest, or rather because of the interest, which she felt for the young
Indian, she was firmly resolved, not to make herself known to him, till
after the lapse of two or three months; and she determined also, that,
even if Djalma should learn by chance that she was his relation, she
would not receive his visit.  She desired, if not to try him, at least to
leave him free in all his acts, so that he might expend the first fire of
his passions, good or bad.  But not wishing to abandon him quite without
defence to the perils of Parisian life, she requested the Count de
Montbron, in confidence, to introduce Prince Djalma to the best company
in Paris, and to enlighten him by the counsels of his long experience.
M. de Montbron had received the request of Mdlle. de Cardoville with the
greatest pleasure, taking delight, he said, in starting his royal tiger
in drawing-rooms, and bringing him into contact with the flower of the
fine ladies and gentlemen of Paris, offering at the same time to wager
any amount in favor of his half-savage pupil.

"As for myself, my dear Count," said Adrienne to M. de Montbron, with her
usual frankness, "my resolution is not to be shaken.  You have told me
the effect that will be produced in the fashionable world, by the first
appearance of Prince Djalma, an Indian nineteen years of age, of
surprising beauty, proud and wild as a young lion arriving from his
forest; it is new, it is extraordinary, you added; and, therefore, all
the coquetries of civilized life will pursue him with an eagerness which
makes me tremble for him.  Now, seriously, my dear count it will not suit
me to appear as the rival of so many fine ladies, who are about to expose
themselves intrepidly to the claws of the young tiger.  I take great
interest in him, because he is my cousin, because he is handsome, because
he is brave, and above all because he does not wear that horrible
European dress.  No doubt these are rare qualities--but not sufficient to
make me change my mind.  Besides, the good old philosopher, my new
friend, has given me advice about this Indian, which you, my dear Count,
who are not a philosopher, will yet approve.  It is, for some time, to
receive visits at home, but not to visit other people--which will spare
me the awkwardness of meeting my royal cousin, and allow me to make a
careful choice, even amongst my usual society.  As my house will be an
excellent one, my position most unusual, and as I shall be suspected of
all sorts of naughty secrets, I shall be in no want of inquisitive
visitors, who will amuse me a good deal, I assure you."

And as M. de Montbron asked, if the exile of the poor young Indian tiger
was to last long, Adrienne answered:  "As I shall see most of the
persons, to whom you will introduce him, I shall be pleased to hear
different opinions about him.  If certain men speak well of him, and
certain women ill, I shall have good hope of him.  In a word, the opinion
that I come to, in sifting the true from the false (you may leave that to
my sagacity), will shorten or prolong the exile of my royal cousin."

Such were the formal intentions of Mdlle. de Cardoville with regard to
Djalma, even on the day she went with Florine to the house he occupied.
In a word, she had positively resolved not to be known to him for some
months to come.

After long reflecting that morning, on the chances that might yet offer
themselves to satisfy the wants of her heart, Adrienne fell into a new,
deep reverie.  This charming creature, so full of life and youth, heaved
a low sigh, raised her arms above her head, turned her profile towards
the pillow, and remained for some moments as if powerless and vanquished.
Motionless beneath the white tissues that wrapped her round, she looked
like a fair, marble statue, visible beneath a light layer of snow.
Suddenly, Adrienne raised herself up, drew her hand across her brow, and
rang for her women.  At the first silver tone of the bell, the two ivory
doors opened.  Georgette appeared on the threshold of the dressing-room,
from which Frisky, a little black and-tan dog, with his golden collar,
escaped with a joyful barking.  Hebe appeared at the same time on the
threshold of the bath-room.  At the further end of this apartment,
lighted from above, might be seen upon a green mat of Spanish leather,
with golden ornaments, a crystal bath in the form of a long shell.  The
three only divisions in this masterpiece of glass work, were concealed by
the elegant device of several large reeds in silver, which rose from the
wide base of the bath, also of wrought silver, representing children and
dolphins playing, among branches of natural coral, and azure shells.
Nothing could be more pleasing than the effect of these purple reeds and
ultramarine shells, upon a dull ground of silver; the balsamic vapor,
which rose from the warm, limpid, and perfumed water, that filled the
crystal shell, spread through the bath-room, and floated like a light
cloud into the sleeping-chamber.

Seeing Hebe in her fresh and pretty costume, bringing her a long bathing-
gown, hanging upon a bare and dimpled arm, Adrienne said to her: "Where
is Florine, my child?"

"Madame, she went downstairs two hours ago; she was wanted for something
very pressing."

"Who wanted her?"

"The young person who serves Madame as secretary.  She went out this
morning very early; and, as soon as she returned, she sent for Florine,
who has not come back since."

"This absence no doubt relates to some important affair of my angelic
minister of succor," said Adrienne, smiling, and thinking of the
hunchback.  Then she made a sign to Hebe to approach her bed.

About two hours after rising, Adrienne, having had herself dressed, as
usual, with rare elegance, dismissed her women, and sent for Mother
Bunch, whom she treated with marked deference, always receiving her
alone. The young sempstress entered hastily, with a pale, agitated
countenance, and said, in a trembling voice: "Oh, madame! my
presentiments were justified.  You are betrayed."

"Of what presentiments do you speak, my dear child!" said Adrienne, with
surprise.  "Who betrays me?"

"M. Rodin!" answered the workgirl.




CHAPTER XLII.

DOUBTS.

On hearing the accusation brought against Rodin, Mdlle. de Cardoville
looked at the denunciator with new astonishment.  Before continuing this
scene, we may say that Mother Bunch was no longer clad in her poor, old
clothes, but was dressed in black, with as much simplicity as taste.  The
sad color seemed to indicate her renunciation of all human vanity, the
eternal mourning of her heart, and the austere duties imposed upon her by
her devotion to misfortune.  With her black gown, she wore a large
falling collar, white and neat as her little gauze cap, with its gray
ribbons, which, revealing her bands of fine brown hair, set off to
advantage her pale and melancholy countenance, with its soft blue eyes.
Her long, delicate hands, preserved from the cold by gloves, were no
longer, as formerly, of a violet hue, but of an almost transparent
whiteness.

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."

"I think not, madame; for, knowing how serious such a discovery would be,
I begged the young girl to describe to me the appearance of M.
d'Aigrigny."

"Well?"

"The Abbe d'Aigrigny, she told me, is about forty years of age.  He is
tall and upright, dresses plainly, but with care; has gray eyes, very
large and piercing, thick eyebrows, chestnut-colored hair, a face closely
shaved, and a very decided aspect."

"It is true," said Adrienne, hardly able to believe what she heard.  "The
description is exact."

"Wishing to have all possible details," resumed Mother Bunch, "I asked
the portress if M. Rodin and the Abbe d'Aigrigny appeared to be at
variance when they quitted the house?  She replied no, but that the Abbe
said to M. Rodin, as they parted at the door: `I will write to you
tomorrow, as agreed.'"

"Is it a dream?  Good heaven!" said Adrienne, drawing her hands across
her forehead in a sort of stupor.  "I cannot doubt your word, my poor
friend; and yet it is M. Rodin who himself sent you to that house, to
give assistance to your sister: would he have wilfully laid open to you
his secret interviews with the Abbe d'Aigrigny?  It would have been bad
policy in a traitor."

"That is true, and the same reflection occurred to me.  And yet the
meeting of these two men appeared so dangerous to you, madame, that I
returned home full of terror."

Characters of extreme honesty are very hard to convince of the treachery
of others: the more infamous the deception, the more they are inclined to
doubt it.  Adrienne was one of these characters, rectitude being a prime
quality of her mind.  Though deeply impressed by the communication, she
remarked: "Come, my dear, do not let us frighten ourselves too soon, or
be over-hasty in believing evil.  Let us try to enlighten ourselves by
reasoning, and first of all remember facts.  M. Rodin opened for me the
doors of Dr. Baleinier's asylum; in my presence, he brought, his charge
against the Abbe d'Aigrigny; he forced the superior of the convent to
restore Marshal Simon's daughters, he succeeded in discovering the
retreat of Prince Djalma--he faithfully executed my intentions with
regard to my young cousin; only yesterday, he gave me the most useful
advice.  All this is true--is it not?"

"Certainly, madame."

"Now suppose that M. Rodin, putting things in their worst light, had some
after-thought--that he hopes to be liberally rewarded, for instance;
hitherto, at least, he has shown complete disinterestedness."

"That also is true, madame," said poor Mother Bunch, obliged, like
Adrienne, to admit the evidence of fixed facts.

"Now let us look to the possibility of treachery.  Unite with the Abbe
d'Aigrigny to betray me!  Betray me?--how? and for what purpose?  What
have I to fear?  Is it not the Abbe d'Aigrigny, on the contrary, is it
not Madame de Saint-Dizier, who have to render an account for the
injuries they have done me?"

"But, then, madame, how do you explain the meeting of these two men, who
have so many motives for mutual aversion?  May there not be some dark
project still behind?  Besides, madame, I am not the only one to think
so."

"How is that?"

"This morning, on my return, I was so much agitated, that Mdlle. Florine
asked me the cause of my trouble.  I know, madame, how much she is
devoted to you."

"Nobody could be more so; only recently, you yourself informed me of the
signal service she rendered, during my confinement at Dr. Baleinier's."

"Well, madame, this morning, on my return, thinking it necessary to have
you informed as soon as possible, I told all to Mdlle. Florine.  Like me-
-even more, perhaps--she was terrified at the meeting of Rodin and M.

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