"Yes, my dear."

"And this medal and these papers were afterwards delivered to your
confessor?"

"Yes, my dear."

"And Gabriel never spoke of them since?"

"Never."

Agricola, hearing this from his mother, looked at her with surprise,
and exclaimed: "Then Gabriel has the same interest as the daughters of
General Simon, or Mdlle. de Cardoville, to be in the Rue Saint-Francois
to-morrow?"

"Certainly," said Dagobert. "And now do you remember what he said to us,
just after my arrival--that, in a few days, he would need our support in
a serious matter?"

"Yes, father."

"And he is kept a prisoner at his seminary! And he tells your mother
that he has to complain of his superiors! and he asked us for our
support with so sad and grave an air, that I said to him--"

"He would speak so, if about to engage in a deadly duel," interrupted
Agricola. "True, father! and yet you, who are a good judge of valor,
acknowledged that Gabriel's courage was equal to yours. For him so to
fear his superiors, the danger must be great indeed."

"Now that I have heard your mother, I understand it all," said Dagobert.
"Gabriel is like Rose and Blanche, like Mdlle. de Cardoville, like your
mother, like all of us, perhaps--the victim of a secret conspiracy of
wicked priests. Now that I know their dark machinations, their infernal
perseverance, I see," added the soldier, in a whisper, "that it requires
strength to struggle against them. I had not the least idea of their
power."

"You are right, father; for those who are hypocritical and wicked do as
much harm as those who are good and charitable, like Gabriel, do good.
There is no more implacable enemy than a bad priest."

"I know it, and that's what frightens me; for my poor children are
in their hands. But is all lost? Shall I bring myself to give them up
without an effort? Oh, no, no! I will not show any weakness--and yet,
since your mother told us of these diabolical plots, I do not know how
it is but I seem less strong, less resolute. What is passing around me
appears so terrible. The spiriting away of these children is no longer
an isolated fact--it is one of the ramifications of a vast conspiracy,
which surrounds and threatens us all. It seems to me as if I and those I
love walked together in darkness, in the midst of serpents, in the midst
of snares that we can neither see nor struggle against. Well! I'll
speak out! I have never feared death--I am not a coward and yet I
confes