pression of your dearest wish in the almost forced
encouragement given to his resolution."

"Little by little, however, as Gabriel has the best heart in the world,
the vocation really came to him. That was natural enough--he was born to
console those who suffer, and devote himself for the unfortunate. He
would never have spoken to me of the past, had it not been for this
morning's interview. But then I beheld him, who is usually so mild and
gentle, become indignant, exasperated, against M. Rodin and another
person whom he accuses. He had serious complaints against them already,
but these discoveries, he says, will make up the measure."

At these words of Frances, Dagobert pressed his hand to his forehead, as
if to recall something to his memory. For some minutes he had listened
with surprise, and almost terror, to the account of these secret plots,
conducted with such deep and crafty dissimulation.

Frances continued: "When at last I acknowledged to Gabriel, that by the
advice of Abbe Dubois, my confessor, I had delivered to a stranger the
children confined to my husband--General Simon's daughters--the dear boy
blamed me, though with great regret, not for having wished to instruct
the poor orphans in the truths of our holy religion, but for having acted
without the consent of my husband, who alone was answerable before God
and man for the charge entrusted to him. Gabriel severely censured Abbe
Dubois' conduct, who had given me, he said, bad and perfidious counsels;
and then, with the sweetness of an angel, the dear boy consoled me, and
exhorted me to come and tell you all. My poor husband! he would fain have
accompanied me, for I had scarcely courage to come hither, so strongly
did I feel the wrong I had done you; but, unfortunately, Gabriel is
confined at the seminary by the strict order of his superiors; he could
not come with me, and--"

Here Dagobert, who seemed much agitated, abruptly interrupted his wife.
"One word, Frances," said he; "for, in truth, in the midst of so many
cares, and black, diabolical plots, one loses one's memory, and the head
begins to wander. Didst not tell me, the day the children disappeared,
that Gabriel, when taken in by you, had round his neck a bronze medal,
and in his pocket a book filled with papers in a foreign language?"

"Yes, my dear."

"And this medal and these papers were afterwards delivered to your
confessor?"

"Yes, my dear."

"And Gabriel never spoke of them since?"