"Why?" answered Rodin, after a moment's embarrassment. "Because the
happiness he feels in giving you these proofs of his friendship and even
his own tranquillity, depend upon preserving this mystery."

"Why should there be concealment when we do good?"

"Sometimes, to conceal the good we do, my dear prince."

"I profit by this friendship; why should he conceal himself from one?"
These repeated questions of the young Indian appeared to puzzle Rodin,
who, however, replied: "I have told you, my dear prince, that your secret
friend would perhaps have his tranquillity compromised, if he were
known."

"If he were known--as my friend?"

"Exactly so, dear prince."

The countenance of Djalma immediately assumed an appearance of sorrowful
dignity; he raised his head proudly, and said in a stern and haughty
voice: "Since this friend hides himself from me, he must either be
ashamed of me, or there is reason for me to be ashamed of him. I only
accept hospitality from those who are worthy of me, and who think me
worthy of them. I leave this house." So saying, Djalma rose with such an
air of determination, that Rodin exclaimed: "Listen to me, my dear
prince. Allow me to tell you, that your petulance and touchiness are
almost incredible. Though we have endeavored to remind you of your
beautiful country, we are here in Europe, in France, in the centre of
Paris. This consideration may perhaps a little modify your views. Listen