d her? That is the
stumbling-block. I must not shout before I am out of the wood."

Rodin began again to walk, biting his nails with an air of deep thought.
For some moments, such was the tension of his mind, large drops of sweat
stood on his yellow brow. He walked up and down, stopped, stamped with
his foot, now raised his eyes as if in search of an inspiration, and now
scratched his head violently with his left hand, whilst he continued
to gnaw the nails of the right. Finally, from time to time, he uttered
exclamations of rage, despondency, or hope, as by turns they took
possession of his mind. If the cause of this monster's agitation had not
been horrible, it would have been a curious and interesting spectacle to
watch the labors of that powerful brain--to follow, as it were, on that
shifting countenance, the progress and development of the project,
on which he was now concentrating all the resources of his strong
intellect. At length, the work appeared to be near completion, for Rodin
resumed: "Yes, yes! it is bold, hazardous--but then it is prompt, and
the consequences may be incalculable. Who can foresee the effects of the
explosion of a mine?"

Then, yielding to a movement of enthusiasm, which was hardly natural
to him, the Jesuit exclaimed, with rapture: "Oh, the passions! the
passions! what a magical instrument do they form, if you do but touch
the keys with a light, skillful, and vigorous hand! How beautiful too
is the power of thought! Talk of the acorn that becomes an oak, the seed
that grows up to the corn--the seed takes months, the acorn centuries,
to unfold its splendors--but here is a little word in eight letters,
necklace and this word, falling into my brain but a few minutes ago, has
grown and grown till it has become larger than any oak. Yes, that word
is the germ of an idea, that, like the oak, lifts itself up towards
heaven, for the greater glory of the Lord--such as they call Him,
and such as I would assert Him to be, should I attain--and I shall
attain--for these miserable Renneponts will pass away like a shadow. And
what matters it, after all, to the moral order I am reserved to guide,
whether these people live or die? What do such lives weigh in the
balance of the great destinies of the world? while this inheritance
which I shall boldly fling into the scale, will lift me to a sphere,
from which one commands many kings, many nations--let them say and make
what noise they will. The idiots--the s