oor, submissive, and credulous child, I was already a spy upon my
comrades, hearing and remembering their conversation, and reporting it
to the superior, who congratulated me on my zeal. What they thus made
me do was shameful, and yet, God knows! I thought I was accomplishing a
charitable duty. I was happy in obeying the commands of a superior whom
I respected, and to whose words I listened, in my childish faith, as I
should have listened to those of Heaven. One day, that I had broken some
rule of the house, the superior said to me: 'My child, you have deserved
a severe punishment; but you will be pardoned, if you succeed in
surprising one of your comrades in the same fault that you have
committed.' And for that, notwithstanding my faith and blind obedience,
this encouragement to turn informer, from the motive of personal
interest, might appear odious to me, the superior added. 'I speak to
you, my child, for the sake of your comrade's salvation. Were he
to escape punishment, his evil habits would become habitual. But by
detecting him in a fault, and exposing him to salutary correction, you
will have the double advantage of aiding in his salvation, and escaping
yourself a merited punishment, which will have been remitted because of
your zeal for your neighbor--"

"Doubtless," answered Father d'Aigrigny, more and more terrified by
Gabriel's language; "and in truth, my dear son, all this is conformable
to the rule followed in our colleges, and to the habits of the members
of our Company, 'who may denounce each other without prejudice to mutual
love and charity, and only for their greater spiritual advancement,
particularly when questioned by their superior, or commanded for the
greater glory of God,' as our Constitution has it."

"I know it," cried Gabriel; "I know it. 'Tis in the name of all that is
most sacred amongst men, that we are encouraged to do evil."

"My dear son," said Father d'Aigrigny, trying to conceal his secret and
growing terror beneath an appearance of wounded dignity, "from you to me
these words are at least strange."

At this, Rodin quitted the mantelpiece, on which he had been leaning,
begin to walk up and down the room, with a meditative air, and without
ceasing to bite his nails.

"It is cruel to be obliged to remind you, my dear son, that your are
indebted to us for the education you have received," added Father
d'Aigrigny.

"Such were its fruits, father," replied Gabriel. "Until then I had b