Father d'Aigrigny, impatient to end this scene, which caused him cruel embarrassment, in spite of his apparent calmness, said to the notary, in a grave and expressive voice: "It is necessary, sir, that all this should have an end.If calumny could reach me, I would answer victoriously by the facts that have just come to light.Why attribute to odious conspiracies the absence of the heirs, in whose names this soldier and his son have so uncourteously urged their demands? Why should such absence be less explicable than the young Indian's, or than M.Hardy's, who, as his confidential man has just told us, did not even know the importance of the interests that called him hither? Is it not probable, that the daughters of Marshal Simon, and Mdlle.de Cardoville have been prevented from coming here to-day by some very natural reasons? But, once again, this has lasted too long.I think M.Notary will agree with me, that this discovery of new heirs does not at all affect the question, which I had the honor to propose to him just now; namely whether, as trustee for the poor, to whom Abbe Gabriel made a free gift of all he possessed, I remain notwithstanding his tardy and illegal opposition, the only possessor of this property, which I have promised, and which I now again promise, in presence of all here assembled, to employ for the Greater Glory of the Lord? Please to answer me plainly, M.Notary; and thus terminate the scene which must needs be painful to us all."
"Sir," replied the notary, in a solemn tone, "on my soul and conscience, and in the name of law and justice--as a faithful and impartial executor of the last will of M.Marius de Rennepont, I declare that, by virtue of the deed of gift of Abbe Gabriel de Rennepont, you, M.l'Abbe d'Aigrigny, are the only possessor of this property, which I place at your immediate disposal, that you may employ the same according to the intention of the donor."
These words pronounced with conviction and gravity, destroyed the last vague hopes that the representatives of the heirs might till then have entertained.Samuel became paler than usual, and pressed convulsively the hand of Bathsheba, who had drawn near to him.Large tears rolled down the cheeks of the two old people.Dagobert and Agricola were plunged into the deepest dejection.Struck with the reasoning of the notary, who refused to give more credence and authority to their remonstrances than the magistrates had done before him, they saw themselves forced to abandon every hope.But Gabriel suffered more than any one; he felt the most terrible remorse, in reflecting that, by his blindness, he had been the involuntary cause and instrument of this abominable theft.
So, when the notary, after having examined and verified the amount of securities contained in the cedar box, said to Father d'Aigrigny: "Take possession, sir, of this casket--" "Gabriel exclaimed, with bitter disappointment and profound despair: "Alas! one would fancy, under these circumstances, that an inexorable fatality pursues all those who are worthy of interest, affection or respect.Oh, my God!" added the young priest, clasping his hands with fervor, "Thy sovereign justice will never permit the triumph of such iniquity."
It was as if heaven had listened to the prayer of the missionary.Hardly had he spoken, when a strange event took place.
Without waiting for the end of Gabriel's invocation, Rodin, profiting by the decision of the notary, had seized the casket in his arms, unable to repress a deep aspiration of joy and triumph.At the very moment when Father d'Aigrigny and his socius thought themselves at last in safe possession of the treasure, the door of the apartment in which the clock had been heard striking was suddenly opened.
A woman appeared upon the threshold.
At sight of her, Gabriel uttered a loud cry, and remained as if thunderstruck.Samuel and Bathsheba fell on their knees together, and raised their clasped hands.The Jew and Jewess felt inexplicable hopes reviving within them.
All the other actors in this scene appeared struck with stupor.Rodin--
Rodin himself--recoiled two steps, and replaced the casket on the table with a trembling hand.Though the incident might appear natural enough--
a woman appearing on the threshold of a door, which she had just thrown open--there was a pause of deep and solemn silence.Every bosom seemed oppressed, and as if struggling for breath.All experienced, at sight of this woman, surprise mingled with fear, and indefinable anxiety--for this woman was the living original of the portrait, which had been placed in the room a hundred and fifty years ago.The same head-dress, the same flowing robe, the same countenance, so full of poignant and resigned grief! She advanced slowly, and without appearing to perceive the deep impression she had caused.She approached one of the pieces of furniture, inlaid with brass, touched a spring concealed in the moulding of gilded bronze, so that an upper drawer flew open, and taking from it a sealed parchment envelope, she walked up to the table, and placed this packet before the notary, who, hitherto silent and motionless, received it mechanically from her.
Then, casting upon Gabriel, who seemed fascinated by her presence, a long, mild, melancholy look, this woman directed her steps towards the hall, the door of which had remained open.As she passed near Samuel and Bathsheba, who were still kneeling, she stopped an instant, bowed her fair head towards them, and looked at them with tender solicitude.Then, giving them her hands to kiss, she glided away as slowly as she had entered--throwing a last glance upon Gabriel.The departure of this woman seemed to break the spell under which all present had remained for the last few minutes.Gabriel was the first to speak, exclaiming, in an agitated voice."It is she--again--here--in this house!"