nge. Though it cost him
a good deal, he said with hesitation, mingled with deference: "You have,
no doubt, the right to command me--who hitherto have commanded." Rodin,
without answering, drew from his well-rubbed and greasy pocket-book a
slip of paper, stamped upon both sides, on which were written several
lines in Latin. When he had read it, Father d'Aigrigny pressed this paper
respectfully, even religiously, to his lips: then returned it to Rodin,
with a low bow. When he again raised his head, he was purple with shame
and vexation. Notwithstanding his habits of passive obedience and
immutable respect for the will of the Order, he felt a bitter and violent
rage at seeing himself thus abruptly deposed from power. That was not
all. Though, for a long time past, all relations in gallantry had ceased
between him and Mme. de Saint-Dizier, the latter was not the less a
woman; and for him to suffer this humiliation in presence of a woman was,
undoubtedly, cruel, as, notwithstanding his entrance into the Order, he
had not wholly laid aside the character of man of the world. Moreover,
the princess, instead of appearing hurt and offended by this sudden
transformation of the superior into a subaltern, and of the subaltern
into a superior, looked at Rodin with a sort of curiosity mingled with
interest. As a woman--as a woman, intensely ambitious, seeking to connect
herself with every powerful influence--the princess loved this strange
species of contrast. She found it curious and interesting to see this
man, almost in rags, mean in appearance, and ignobly ugly, and but lately
the most humble of subordinates look down from the height of his superior
intelligence upon the nobleman by birth, distinguished for the elegance
of his manners, and just before so considerable a personage in the
Society. From that moment, as the more important personage of the two,
Rodin completely took the place of Father d'Aigrigny in the princess's
mind. The first pang of humiliation over, the reverend father, though his
pride bled inwardly, applied all his knowledge of the world to behave
with redoubled courtesy towards Rodin, who had become his superior by
this abrupt change of fortune. But the ex-socius, incapable of
appreciating, or rather of acknowledging, such delicate shades of manner,
established himself at once, firmly, imperiously, brutally, in his new
position, not from any reaction of offended pride, but from a
consciousness of what he was real