ds, and
looking from one to the other with an air of inquiry.

"That is my name, sir; what can I do to serve you?" answered the
manufacturer, kindly; for, at first sight of the humble and ill-dressed
old man, he expected an application for assistance.

"M. Francois Hardy," repeated Rodin, as if he wished to make sure of the
identity of the person.

"I have had the honor to tell you that I am he."

"I have a private communication to make to you, sir," said Rodin.

"You may speak, sir. This gentleman is my friend," said M. Hardy,
pointing to M. de Blessac.

"But I wish to speak to you alone, sir," resumed Rodin.

M. de Blessac was again about to withdraw, when M. Hardy retained him
with a glance, and said to Rodin kindly, for he thought his feelings
might be hurt by asking a favor in presence of a third party: "Permit
me to inquire if it is on your account or on mine, that you wish this
interview to be secret?"

"On your account entirely, sir," answered Rodin.

"Then, sir," said M. Hardy, with some surprise, "you may speak out. I
have no secrets from this gentleman."

After a moment's silence, Rodin resumed, addressing himself to M. Hardy:
"Sir, you deserve, I know, all the good that is said of you; and you
therefore command the sympathy of every honest man."

"I hope so, sir."

"Now, as an honest man, I come to render you a service."

"And this service, sir--"

"To reveal to you an infamous piece of treachery, of which you have been
the victim."

"I think, sir, you must be deceived."

"I have the proofs of what I assert."

"Proofs?"

"The written proofs of the treachery that I come to reveal: I have them
here," answered Rodin "In a word, a man whom you believed your friend,
has shamefully deceived you, sir."

"And the name of this man?"

"M. Marcel de Blessac," replied Rodin.

On these words, M. de Blessac started, and became pale as death. He
could hardly murmur: "Sir--"

But, without looking at his friend, or perceiving his agitation, M.
Hardy seized his hand, and exclaimed hastily: "Silence, my friend!"
Then, whilst his eye flashed with indignation, he turned towards Rodin,
who had not ceased to look him full in the face, and said to him, with
an air of lofty disdain: "What! do you accuse M. de Blessac?"

"Yes, I accuse him," replied Rodin, briefly.

"Do you know him?"

"I have never seen him."

"Of what do you accuse him? And how dare you say that he has betrayed
me?"

"Two words