with persons in power; I thought that she, like the Abbe
d'Aigrigny, was concerned in dark intrigues, for which religion served
as a veil--but I was far from believing what you tell me."

"How many things you have got to learn!" resumed Rodin. "If you knew, my
dear young lady, with what art these people surround you, without your
being aware of it, by agents devoted to themselves! Every one of your
steps is known to them, when they have any interest in such knowledge.
Thus, little by little, they act upon you--slowly, cautiously,
darkly. They circumvent you by every possible means, from flattery to
terror--seduce or frighten, in order at last to rule you, without your
being conscious of their authority. Such is their object, and I must
confess they pursue it with detestable ability."

Rodin had spoken with so much sincerity, that Adrienne trembled; then,
reproaching herself with these fears, she resumed: "And yet, no--I can
never believe in so infernal a power; the might of priestly ambition
belongs to another age. Heaven be praised, it has disappeared forever!"

"Yes, certainly, it is out of sight; for they now know how to disperse
and disappear, when circumstances require it. But then are they the
most dangerous; for suspicion is laid asleep, and they keep watch in the
dark. Oh! my dear young lady, if you knew their frightful ability! In
my hatred of all that is oppressive, cowardly, and hypocritical, I had
studied the history of that terrible society, before I knew that the
Abbe d'Aigrigny belonged to it. Oh! it is dreadful. If you knew what
means they employ! When I tell you that, thanks to their diabolical
devices, the most pure and devoted appearances often conceal the most
horrible snares." Rodin's eye rested, as if by chance, on the hunchback;
but, seeing that Adrienne did not take the hint, the Jesuit continued:
"In a word--are you not exposed to their pursuits?--have they any
interest in gaining you over?--oh! from that moment, suspect all that
surround you, suspect the most noble attachments, the most tender
affections, for these monsters sometimes succeed in corrupting your
best friends, and making a terrible use of them, in proportion to the
blindness of your confidence."

"Oh! it is impossible," cried Adrienne, in horror. "You must exaggerate.
No! hell itself never dreamed of more frightful treachery!"

"Alas, my dear young lady! one of your relations, M. Hardy--the most
loyal and generous-hearted man