Company, I must not hear you."

"Really, my dear son, you occasion me the greatest astonishment. What
is the matter?--Your countenance changes, your emotion is visible. Speak
without fear; why can you not hear me?"

"I cannot tell you, father, until I also have, in my turn, rapidly
sketched the past--such as I have learned to judge it of late. You
will then understand, father, that I am no longer entitled to your
confidence, for an abyss will doubtlessly soon separate us."

At these words, it is impossible to paint the look rapidly exchanged
between Rodin and Father d'Aigrigny. The socius began to bite his nails,
fixing his reptile eye angrily upon Gabriel; Father d'Aigrigny grew
livid, and his brow was bathed in cold sweat. He asked himself with
terror, if, at the moment of reaching the goal, the obstacle was going
to come from Gabriel, in favor of whom all other obstacles had been
removed. This thought filled him with despair. Yet the reverend
father contained himself admirably, remained calm, and answered with
affectionate unction: "It is impossible to believe, my dear son, that
you and I can ever be separated by an abyss--unless by the abyss of
grief, which would be caused by any serious danger to your salvation.
But speak; I listen to you."

"It is true, that, twelve years ago, father," proceeded Gabriel, in a
firm voice, growing more animated as he proceeded, "I entered, through
your intervention, a college of the Company of Jesus. I entered it
loving, truthful, confiding. How did they encourage those precious
instincts of childhood? I will tell you. The day of my entrance, the
Superior said to me, as he pointed out two children a little older than
myself: 'These are the companions that you will prefer. You will always
walk three together. The rules of the house forbid all intercourse
between two persons only. They also require, that you should listen
attentively to what your companions say, so that you may report it to
me; for these dear children may have, without knowing it, bad thoughts
or evil projects. Now, if you love your comrades, you must inform me of
these evil tendencies, that my paternal remonstrances may save them from
punishment; it is better to prevent evil than to punish it.'"

"Such are, indeed, my dear son," said Father d'Aigrigny, "the rules
of our house, and the language we hold to all our pupils on their
entrance."

"I know it, father," answered Gabriel, bitterly; "three days after,
a p