"This atrocity is most inexplicable; why should he demoralise the unhappy child? Why carry him off?"
"I have told you, M. Rodolph,--to compel me to send him money; although he had nearly ruined me, yet I had still some small resources, but they at length were exhausted also. In spite of his wickedness, I could not believe but that he would employ, at least, a portion of this money in the bringing-up of this unhappy child."
"And your son had no sign, no mark, by which he could be recognised?"
"No other than that of which I have spoken to you, M. Rodolph,--a small Saint Esprit, sculptured in lapis lazuli, tied round his neck by a chain of silver: a sacred relic, blessed by the holy father."
"Providence placed me in your path, M. Rodolph."
"Too late, Madame Georges; too late. I might have saved you many years of sorrow."
"Ah, M. Rodolph, how kind you have been to me!"
"In what way? I bought this farm; in time of your prosperity you were not idle, and now you have become my manager here, where--thanks to your excellent superintendence, intelligence, and activity--this establishment produces me--"
"Produces you, my lord?" said Madame Georges, interrupting Rodolph; "why, all the returns are employed, not only in ameliorating the condition of the labourers, who consider the occupation on this model farm as a great favour, but, moreover, to succour all the needy in the district; through the mediation of our good Abbé Laporte--"
"Ah, the dear abbé!" said Rodolph, desirous of escaping the praise of Madame Georges; "have you had the kindness to inform him of my arrival? I wish to recommend my protégée to him. He has had my letter?"
"Mr. Murphy gave it to him when he came this morning."
"In that letter I told our good curé, in a few words, the history of this poor girl. I was not sure that I should be able to come to-day myself, and if not, then Murphy would have conducted Marie--"
A labourer of the farm interrupted this conversation, which had been carried on in the garden.
"Are the post-horses arrived, my lad?" inquired Rodolph.
"Yes, M. Rodolph; and they are putting to." And the man left the garden.
Madame Georges, the curé, and the inhabitants of the farm only knew Fleur-de-Marie's protector as M. Rodolph. Murphy's discretion was faultless; and although when in private he was very precise in "my-lording" Rodolph, yet before strangers he was very careful not to address him otherwise than as _M. Rodolph_.