ursued with
wondrous ability, these views were not so unreasonable? Nay, that this
infernal ambition would soon be realized, were it not that the secret
proceedings of this dangerous man have long been as secretly
watched?--Ah!" sneered Father d'Aigrigny, with a smile of irony and
triumph, "you wish to be a second Sixtus V., do you? And, not content
with this audacious pretension, you mean, if successful, to absorb our
Company in the Papacy, even as the Sultan has absorbed the Janissaries.
Ah! You would make us your stepping-stone to power! And you have thought
to humiliate and crush me with your insolent disdain! But patience,
patience: the day of retribution approaches. I alone am the depository of
our General's will. Father Caboccini himself does not know that. The fate
of Rodin is in my hands. Oh! it will not be what he expects. In this
Rennepont affair (which, I must needs confess, he has managed admirably),
he thinks to outwit us all, and to work only for himself. But
to-morrow--"

Father d'Aigrigny was suddenly disturbed in these agreeable reflections.
He heard the door of the next room open, and, as he turned round to see
who was coming, the door of the apartment in which he was turned upon its
hinges. Father d'Aigrigny started with surprise, and became almost
purple. Marshal Simon stood before him. And, behind the marshal, in the
shadow of the door, Father d'Aigrigny perceived the cadaverous face of
Rodin. The latter cast on him one glance of diabolical delight, and
instantly disappeared. The door was again closed, and Father d'Aigrigny
and Marshal Simon were left alone together. The father of Rose and
Blanche was hardly recognizable. His gray hair had become completely
white. His pale, thin face had not been shaved for some days. His hollow
eyes were bloodshot and restless, and had in them something wild and
haggard. He was wrapped in a large cloak, and his black cravat was tied
loosely about his neck. In withdrawing from the apartment, Rodin had (as
if by inadvertence) double-locked the door on the outside. When he was
alone with the Jesuit, the marshal threw back his cloak from his
shoulders, and Father d'Aigrigny could see two naked swords, stuck
through a silk handkerchief which served him as a belt.

Father d'Aigrigny understood it all. He remembered how, a few days
before, Rodin had obstinately pressed him to say what he would do if the
marshal were to strike him in the face. There could be no doubt tha