"Let us turn to the last note," said Father d'Aigrigny, after a moment
of thoughtful silence. "I have so much confidence in the person who
sends it, that I cannot doubt the correctness of the information it
contains. May it contradict the others!"

In order not to break the chain of facts contained in this last note,
which was to have so startling an effect on the actors in this scene, we
shall leave it to the reader's imagination to supply the exclamations
of surprise, hate, rage and fear of Father d'Aigrigny, and the terrific
pantomime of Rodin, during the perusal of this formidable document,
the result of the observations of a faithful and secret agent of
the reverend fathers. Comparing this note with the other information
received, the results appeared more distressing to the reverend fathers.
Thus Gabriel had long and frequent conferences with Adrienne, who before
was unknown to him. Agricola Baudoin had opened a communication with
Francis Hardy, and the officers of justice were on the track of the
authors and instigators of the riot which had led to the burning of the
factory of Baron Tripeaud's rival. It seemed almost certain that Mdlle.
de Cardoville had had an interview with Prince Djalma.

This combination of facts showed that, faithful to the threats she
had uttered to Rodin, when she had unmasked the double perfidy of the
reverend father, Mdlle. de Cardoville was actively engaged in uniting
the scattered members of her family, to form a league against those
dangerous enemies, whose detestable projects, once unveiled and boldly
encountered, could hardly have a chance of success. The reader will now
understand the tremendous effect of this note on Father d'Aigrigny and
Rodin--on Rodin, stretched powerless on a bed of pain at the moment when
the scaffolding, raised with so much labor, seemed to be tumbling around
him.

CHAPTER XXIX. THE OPERATION.

We have given up the attempt to paint the countenance, attitude, and
gesticulation of Rodin during the reading of this note, which seemed to
ruin all his most cherished hopes. Everything was failing at once, at
the moment when only superhuman trust in the success of his plans could
give him sufficient energy to strive against mortal sickness. A single,
absorbing thought had agitated him even to delirium: What progress,
during his illness, had been made in this immense affair? He had first
heard a good piece of news, the death of Jacques Rennepont; but now