"By heaven, sir!" cried Dagobert, in a voice of thunder, "you will make
me forget myself. I should be sorry to fling a man of your age down the
stairs. Will you be gone?"

"Well, well," said Rodin mildly, "do not be angry with a poor old man.
I am really not worth the trouble. I will go with you to your room, and
tell you what I have to communicate. You will repent not having let me
speak before these dear young ladies; but that will be your punishment,
naughty man!"

So saying, Rodin again bowed very low, and, concealing his rage and
vexation, left the room before Dagobert, who made a sign to the two
sisters, and then followed, closing the door after him.

"What news of our father, Dagobert?" said Rose anxiously, when the
soldier returned, after a quarter of an hours absence.

"Well, that old conjurer knows that the marshal set out in good spirits,
and he seems acquainted with M. Robert. How could he be informed of all
this? I cannot tell," added the soldier, with a thoughtful air; "but it
is only another reason to be on one's guard against him."

"But what news of our father?" asked Rose.

"One of that old rascal's friends (I think him a rascal still) knows
your father, he tells me, and met him five-and-twenty leagues from here.
Knowing that this man was coming to Paris, the marshal charged him to
let you know that he was in perfect health, and hoped soon to see you
again."

"Oh, what happiness!" cried Rose.

"You see, you were wrong to suspect the poor old man, Dagobert," added
Blanche. "You treated him so harshly!"

"Possibly so; but I am not sorry for it."

"And why?"

"I have my reasons; and one of the best is that, when I saw him came in,
and go sidling and creeping round about us, I felt chilled to the marrow
of my bones, without knowing why. Had I seen a serpent crawling towards
you, I should not have been more frightened. I knew, of course, that he
could not hurt you in my presence; but I tell you, my children, in spite
of the services he has no doubt rendered us, it was all I could do to
refrain from throwing him out of the window. Now, this manner of proving
my gratitude is not natural, and one must be on one's guard against
people who inspire us with such ideas."

"Good Dagobert, it is your affection for us that makes you so
suspicious," said Rose, in a coaxing tone; "it proves how much you love
us."

CHAPTER LV. THE IMPROVISED HOSPITAL

Among a great number of temporary hospitals