l resources
of the Company of Jesus. It was on account of certain combinations,
purely personal to himself, though connected on some points with the
interests of the Order, that Rodin, unknown to all, had taken these
rooms in the Rue Clovis. And it was from the depths of this obscure
den that the socius corresponded directly with the most eminent and
influential personages of the sacred college. On one occasion, when
Rodin wrote to Rome, that Father d'Aigrigny, having received orders to
quit France without seeing his dying mother, had hesitated to set out,
the socius had added, in form of postscriptum, at the bottom of the
letter denouncing to the General of the Order the hesitation of Father
d'Aigrigny:

"Tell the Prince Cardinal that he may rely upon me, but I hope for his
active aid in return."

This familiar manner of corresponding with the most powerful dignitary
of the Order, the almost patronizing tone of the recommendation
that Rodin addressed to the Prince Cardinal, proved that the socius,
notwithstanding his apparently subaltern position, was looked upon, at
that epoch, as a very important personage, by many of the Princes of the
Church, who wrote to him at Paris under a false name, making use of a
cipher and other customary precautions. After some moments passed in
contemplation, before the portrait of Sixtus V., Rodin returned slowly
to the table, on which lay the letter, which, by a sort of superstitious
delay, he had deferred opening, notwithstanding his extreme curiosity.
As it still wanted some minutes of half-past nine, Rodin, in order not
to lose time, set about making preparations for his frugal breakfast.
He placed on the table, by the side of an inkstand, furnished with pens,
the slice of bread and the radish; then seating himself on his stool,
with the stove, as it were, between his legs, he drew a horn-handled
knife from his pocket, and cutting alternately a morsel of bread and a
morsel of radish, with a sharp, well-worn blade, he began his temperate
repast with a vigorous appetite, keeping his eye fixed on the hand of
his watch. When it reached the momentous hour, he unsealed the envelope
with a trembling hand.

It contained two letters. The first appeared to give him little
satisfaction; for, after some minutes, he shrugged his shoulders, struck
the table impatiently with the handle of his knife, disdainfully pushed
aside the letter with the back of his dirty hand, and perused the second
epi