I have told you, sir, that I do not know it," replied the other, almost
offended by the pertinacity of the socius.

"What, then, did your adopted mother come to tell you yesterday? Why did
you presume to receive her without permission from Father d'Aigrigny, as
I have heard this morning? Did she not speak with you of certain family
papers, found upon you when she took you in?"

"No, sir," said Gabriel; "those papers were delivered at the time to
my adopted mother's confessor, and they afterwards passed into Father
d'Aigrigny's hands. This is the first I hear for a long time of these
papers."

"So you affirm that Frances Baudoin did not come to speak to you on
this subject?" resumed Rodin, obstinately, laying great emphasis on his
words.

"This is the second time, sir, that you seem to doubt my affirmation,"
said the young priest, mildly, while he repressed a movement of
impatience, "I assure you that I speak the truth."

"He knows nothing," thought Rodin; for he was too well convinced of
Gabriel's sincerity to retain the least doubt after so positive a
declaration. "I believe you," went on he. "The idea only occurred to me
in reflecting what could be the reason of sufficient weight to induce
you to transgress Father d'Aigrigny's orders with regard to the absolute
retirement he had commanded, which was to exclude all communication with
those without. Much more, contrary to all the rules of our house, you
ventured to shut the door of your room, whereas it ought to remain half
open, that the mutual inspection enjoined us might be the more easily
practiced. I could only explain these sins against discipline, by the
necessity of some very important conversation with your adopted mother."

"It was to a priest, and not to her adopted son, that Madame Baudoin
wished to speak," replied Gabriel, in a tone of deep seriousness. "I
closed my door because I was to hear a confession."

"And what had Frances Baudoin of such importance to confess?"

"You will know that by-and-bye, when I speak to his reverence--if it be
his pleasure that you should hear me."

These words were so firmly spoken, that a long silence ensued. Let us
remind the reader that Gabriel had hitherto been kept by his superiors
in the most complete ignorance of the importance of the family interests
which required his presence in the Rue Saint-Francois. The day before,
Frances Baudoin, absorbed in her own grief, had forgotten to tell him
that the two orphan