The young priest became deadly pale; one saw, by the alteration of his
features, that a violent struggle was taking place within him, but
recovering his first resolution, he raised his head, and casting an
assured look on Father d'Aigrigny and Rodin, who glanced at each other in
mute surprise, he resumed: "I repeat to you, father, that if it concerns
confidential matters of the Company, I must not hear you."

"Really, my dear son, you occasion me the greatest astonishment. What is
the matter?--Your countenance changes, your emotion is visible. Speak
without fear; why can you not hear me?"

"I cannot tell you, father, until I also have, in my turn, rapidly
sketched the past--such as I have learned to judge it of late. You will
then understand, father, that I am no longer entitled to your confidence,
for an abyss will doubtlessly soon separate us."

At these words, it is impossible to paint the look rapidly exchanged
between Rodin and Father d'Aigrigny. The socius began to bite his nails,
fixing his reptile eye angrily upon Gabriel; Father d'Aigrigny grew
livid, and his brow was bathed in cold sweat. He asked himself with
terror, if, at the moment of reaching the goal, the obstacle was going to
come from Gabriel, in favor of whom all other obstacles had been removed.
This thought filled him with despair. Yet the reverend father contained
himself admirably, remained calm, and answered with affectionate unction:
"It is impossible to believe, my dear son, that you and I can ever be
separated by an abyss--unless by the abyss of grief, which would be
caused by any serious danger to your salvation. But speak; I listen to
you."

"It is true, that, twelve years ago, father," proceeded Gabriel, in a