ni, trembling in every limb,
made the sign of the cross, and retreating to the opposite wall, buried
his face in his hands. Rodin on the contrary, with agitated countenance,
staring eyes, and hair standing on end, yielding to an invincible
attraction, advanced towards those inanimate forms. One would have said
that these last of the Renneponts had only just expired. They seemed to
be in the first hour of the eternal sleep.(44)

"Behold those whom thou host slain!" cried Samuel, in a voice broken
with sobs. "Yea! your detestable plots caused their death--and, as they
fell one by one, it was my pious care to obtain possession of their
poor remains, that they may all repose in the same sepulchre.
Oh!--cursed--cursed--cursed--be thou who has killed them! But their
spoils shall escape thy murderous hands."

Rodin, still drawn forward in spite of himself, had approached the
funeral couch of Djalma. Surmounting his first alarm, the Jesuit, to
assure himself that he was not the sport of frightful dream, ventured
to touch the hands of the Asiatic--and found that they were damp and
pliant, though cold as ice.

The Jesuit drew back in horror. For some seconds, he trembled
convulsively. But, his first amazement over, reflection returned, and,
with reflection came that invincible energy, that infernal obstinacy of
character, that gave him so much power. Steadying himself on his legs,
drawing his hand across his brow, raising his head, moistening his lips
two or three times before he spoke--for his throat and mouth grew
ever drier and hotter, without his being able to explain the cause--he
succeeded in giving to his features an imperious and ironical
expression, and, turning towards Samuel, who wept in silence, he said to
him, in a hoarse, guttural voice: "I need not show you the certificates
of their death. There they are in person." And he pointed with his bony
hand to the six dead bodies.

At these words of his General, Father Caboccini again made the sign of
the cross, as if he had seen a fiend.

"Oh, my God!" cried Samuel; "Thou hast quite abandoned this man. With
what a calm look he contemplates his victims!"

"Come, sir!" said Rodin, with a horrid smile; "this is a natural waxwork
exhibition, that is all. My calmness proves my innocence--and we had
best come at once to business. I have an appointment at two o'clock. So
let us carry down this casket."

He advanced towards the marble slab. Seized with indignation and hor