M. Hardy
from stage to stage; should you succeed in overtaking him your presence
and your prayers may perhaps conquer the fatal influence that these
priests have acquired over him.'"
"It was the best advice she could give you. That excellent young lady is
always right."
"An hour after, we were upon our way, for we learned by the returned
postilions, that M. Hardy had taken the Orleans road. We followed him as
far as Etampes. There we heard that he had taken a cross-road, to reach
a solitary house in a valley about four leagues from the highway. They
told us that this house called the Val-de-St. Herem, belonged to certain
priests, and that, as the night was so dark, and the road so bad, we
had better sleep at the inn, and start early in the morning. We followed
this advice, and set out at dawn. In a quarter of an hour, we quitted
the high-road for a mountainous and desert track. We saw nothing but
brown rocks, and a few birch trees. As we advanced, the scene became
wilder and wilder. We might have fancied ourselves a hundred leagues
from Paris. At last we stopped in front of a large, old, black-looking
house with only a few small windows in it, and built at the foot of a
high, rocky mountain. In my whole life I have never seen anything so
deserted and sad. We got out of the carriage, and I rang the bell. A
man opened the door. 'Did not the Abbe d'Aigrigny arrive here last night
with a gentleman?' said I to this man, with a confidential air. 'Inform
the gentleman directly, that I come on business of importance, and that
I must see him forthwith.'--The man, believing me an accomplice, showed
us in immediately; a moment after, the Abbe d'Aigrigny opened the door,
saw me, and drew back; yet, in five minutes more, I was in presence of
M. Hardy."
"Well!" said Dagobert, with interest.
Agricola shook his head sorrowfully, and replied: "I knew by the very
countenance of M. Hardy, that all was over. Addressing me in a mild but
firm voice, he said to me: 'I understand, I can even excuse, the motives
that bring you hither. But I am quite determined to live henceforth
in solitude and prayer. I take this resolution freely and voluntarily,
because I would fain provide for the salvation of my soul. Tell your
fellows that my arrangements will be such as to leave them a good
remembrance of me.'--And as I was about to speak, M. Hardy interrupted
me, saying: 'It is useless, my friend. My determination is unalterable.
Do not write t
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