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diff --git a/old/files/relative.htm b/old/files/relative.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..ed4a800 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/files/relative.htm @@ -0,0 +1,75924 @@ +<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8"?> + +<!DOCTYPE html + PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd" > + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" lang="en"> + <head> + <title> + The Wandering Jew, by Eugene Sue + </title> + <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> + + body { margin:5%; background:#faebd0; text-align:justify} + P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; } + hr { width: 50%; text-align: center;} + .foot { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; text-indent: -3em; font-size: 90%; } + blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + .mynote {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;} + .toc { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;} + .toc2 { margin-left: 20%;} + .indent5 { margin-left: 5%;} + .indent10 { margin-left: 10%;} + .indent15 { margin-left: 15%;} + .indent20 { margin-left: 20%;} + .indent30 { margin-left: 30%;} + div.fig { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; } + div.middle { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; } + .figleft {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;} + .figright {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;} + .pagenum {display:inline; font-size: 100%; font-style:normal; + margin: 0; padding: 0; position: absolute; right: 1%; + text-align: right;} + .side { float: left; font-size: 75%; width: 25%; padding-left: 0.8em; + border-left: dashed thin; text-align: left; + text-indent: 0; font-weight: bold; font-style: italic; + font-weight: bold; color: black; background: #eeeeee; border: solid 1px;} + p.pfirst, p.noindent {text-indent: 0} + span.dropcap { float: left; margin: 0 0.1em 0 0; line-height: 1 } + pre { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;} + +</style> + </head> + <body> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Wandering Jew, Complete, by Eugene Sue + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.net + + +Title: The Wandering Jew, Complete + +Author: Eugene Sue + +Illustrators: A. Ferdinandus and Gustave Dore + +Release Date: September 2, 2006 [EBook #3350] +Last Updated: August 22, 2016 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE WANDERING JEW, COMPLETE *** + + + +Produced by David Widger + + + + + + +</pre> + <h1> + THE WANDERING JEW + </h1> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <h2> + By Eugene Sue + </h2> + <h3> + Illustrations by A. Ferdinandus and Gustave Dore + </h3> + <p> + <br /><br /> <br /> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:65%;"> + <img src="images/10007m.jpg" alt="10007m " width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/10007.jpg"><i>Original</i></a> + </h5> + <div class="fig" style="width:65%;"> + <img src="images/10009m.jpg" alt="10009m " width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/10009.jpg"><i>Original</i></a> + </h5> + <div class="fig" style="width:65%;"> + <img src="images/10011m.jpg" alt="10011m " width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/10011.jpg"><i>Original</i></a> + </h5> + <div class="fig" style="width:65%;"> + <img src="images/10023m.jpg" alt="10023m " width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/10023.jpg"><i>Original</i></a> + </h5> + <p> + <br /> <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <h4> + A NOTE ON THE AUTHOR OF THE WANDERING JEW: EUGENE SUE <br /><br /> + (1804-1857) + </h4> + <p> + Time and again physicians and seamen have made noteworthy reputations as + novelists. But it is rare in the annals of literature that a man trained + in both professions should have gained his greatest fame as a writer of + novels. Eugene Sue began his career as a physician and surgeon, and then + spent six years in the French Navy. In 1830, when he returned to France, + he inherited his father’s rich estate and was free to follow his + inclination to write. His first novel, “Plick et Plock”, met + with an unexpected success, and he at once foreswore the arts of healing + and navigation for the precarious life of a man of letters. With varying + success he produced books from his inexhaustible store of personal + experiences as a doctor and sailor. In 1837, he wrote an authoritative + work on the French Navy, “Histoire de la marine Francaise”. + </p> + <p> + More and more the novel appealed to his imagination and suited his gifts. + His themes ranged from the fabulous to the strictly historical, and he + became popular as a writer of romance and fictionized fact. His plays, + however, were persistent failures. When he published “The Mysteries + of Paris”, his national fame was assured, and with the writing of + “The Wandering Jew” he achieved world-wide renown. Then, at + the height of his literary career, Eugene Sue was driven into exile after + Louis Napoleon overthrew the Constitutional Government in a coup d’etat + and had himself officially proclaimed Emperor Napoleon III. The author of + “The Wandering Jew” died in banishment five years later. + </p> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <blockquote> + <p class="toc"> + <big><b>CONTENTS</b></big> + </p> + <p> + <br /> <a href="#link2H_4_0001"> <b>THE WANDERING JEW.</b> </a><br /><br /> + <a href="#link2H_4_0002"> <b>BOOK I.</b> </a><b>THE TRANSGRESSION.</b> + <br /><br /> <a href="#link2H_PROL"> PROLOGUE. </a> <br /><br /> + <a href="#link2H_4_0004"> THE LAND’S END </a>OF TWO WORLDS. <br /><br /> + <a href="#link2HCH0001"> CHAPTER I. </a>MOROK. <br /><br /> <a + href="#link2HCH0002"> CHAPTER II. </a>THE TRAVELLERS. <br /><br /> <a + href="#link2HCH0003"> CHAPTER III. </a>THE ARRIVAL. <br /><br /> <a + href="#link2HCH0004"> CHAPTER IV. </a>MOROK and DAGOBERT <br /><br /> <a + href="#link2HCH0005"> CHAPTER V. </a>ROSE AND BLANCHE. <br /><br /> <a + href="#link2HCH0006"> CHAPTER VI. </a>THE SECRET. <br /><br /> <a + href="#link2HCH0007"> CHAPTER VII. </a>THE TRAVELER. <br /><br /> <a + href="#link2HCH0008"> CHAPTER VIII. </a>EXTRACTS FROM GENERAL SIMON’S + DIARY. <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0009"> CHAPTER IX. </a>THE CAGES. + <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0010"> CHAPTER X. </a>THE SURPRISE. <br /><br /> + <a href="#link2HCH0011"> CHAPTER XI. </a>JOVIAL and DEATH. <br /><br /> <a + href="#link2HCH0012"> CHAPTER XII. </a>THE BURGOMASTER. <br /><br /> <a + href="#link2HCH0013"> CHAPTER XIII. </a>THE JUDGEMENT. <br /><br /> <a + href="#link2HCH0014"> CHAPTER XIV. </a>THE DECISION. <br /><br /> <a + href="#link2HCH0015"> CHAPTER XV. </a>THE DESPATCHES. <br /><br /> <a + href="#link2HCH0016"> CHAPTER XVI. </a>THE ORDERS. <br /><br /> <a + href="#link2H_4_0021"> <b>BOOK II.</b> </a><b>INTERVAL—THE + WANDERING JEW’S SENTENCE.</b> <br /><br /> <a href="#link2H_4_0022"> + INTERVAL. </a> <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0017"> CHAPTER + XVII. </a>THE AJOUPA. <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0018"> CHAPTER XVIII. + </a>THE TATTOOING <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0019"> CHAPTER XIX. </a>THE + SMUGGLER <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0020"> CHAPTER XX. </a>M. JOSHUA + VAN DAEL. <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0021"> CHAPTER XXI. </a>THE RUINS + OF TCHANDI. <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0022"> CHAPTER XXII. </a>THE + AMBUSCADE <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0023"> CHAPTER XXIII. </a>M. + RODIN. <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0024"> CHAPTER XXIV. </a>THE TEMPEST + <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0025"> CHAPTER XXV. </a>THE SHIPWRECK. + <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0026"> CHAPTER XXVI. </a>THE DEPARTURE FOR + PARIS. <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0027"> CHAPTER XXVII. </a>DAGOBERT’S + WIFE. <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0028"> CHAPTER XXVIII. </a>THE SISTER + OF THE BACCHANAL QUEEN. <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0029"> CHAPTER + XXIX. </a>AGRICOLA BAUDOIN. <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0030"> CHAPTER + XXX. </a>THE RETURN. <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0031"> CHAPTER XXXI. + </a>AGRICOLA AND MOTHER BUNCH. <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0032"> + CHAPTER XXXII. </a>THE AWAKENING. <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0033"> + CHAPTER XXXIII. </a>THE PAVILION. <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0034"> + CHAPTER XXXIV. </a>ADRIENNE AT HER TOILET. <br /><br /> <a + href="#link2HCH0035"> CHAPTER XXXV. </a>THE INTERVIEW. <br /><br /> <a + href="#link2H_4_0042"> <b>BOOK III.</b> </a> <br /><br /> <a + href="#link2HCH0036"> CHAPTER XXXVI. </a>A FEMALE JESUIT. <br /><br /> <a + href="#link2HCH0037"> CHAPTER XXXVII. </a>THE PLOT. <br /><br /> <a + href="#link2HCH0038"> CHAPTER XXXVIII. </a>ADRIENNE’S ENEMIES. + <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0039"> CHAPTER XXXIX. </a>THE SKIRMISH. + <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0040"> CHAPTER XL. </a>THE REVOLT <br /><br /> + <a href="#link2HCH0041"> CHAPTER XLI. </a>TREACHERY. <br /><br /> <a + href="#link2HCH0042"> CHAPTER XLII. </a>THE SNARE. <br /><br /> <a + href="#link2HCH0043"> CHAPTER XLIII. </a>A FALSE FRIEND. <br /><br /> <a + href="#link2HCH0044"> CHAPTER XLIV. </a>THE MINISTER’S CABINET. + <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0045"> CHAPTER XLV. </a>THE VISIT. <br /><br /> + <a href="#link2HCH0046"> CHAPTER XLVI. </a>PRESENTIMENTS. <br /><br /> <a + href="#link2HCH0047"> CHAPTER XLVII. </a>THE LETTER. <br /><br /> <a + href="#link2HCH0048"> CHAPTER XLVIII. </a>THE CONFESSIONAL <br /><br /> <a + href="#link2HCH0049"> CHAPTER XLIX. </a>MY LORD AND SPOIL-SPORT. <br /><br /> + <a href="#link2HCH0050"> CHAPTER L. </a>APPEARANCES. <br /><br /> <a + href="#link2HCH0051"> CHAPTER LI. </a>THE CONVENT. <br /><br /> <a + href="#link2HCH0052"> CHAPTER LII. </a>THE INFLUENCE OF A CONFESSOR. + <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0053"> CHAPTER LIII. </a>THE EXAMINATION. + <br /><br /> <a href="#link2H_4_0061"> <b>BOOK IV.</b> </a> + <br /><br /> <a href="#link2H_PART2"> PART SECOND. </a>THE CHASTISEMENT. + <br /><br /> <a href="#link2H_PROL2"> PROLOGUE. </a>THE BIRD’S-EYE + VIEW OF TWO WORLDS. <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0054"> CHAPTER I. </a>THE + MASQUERADE. <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0055"> CHAPTER II. </a>THE + CONTRAST. <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0056"> CHAPTER III. </a>THE + CAROUSE. <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0057"> CHAPTER IV. </a>THE + FAREWELL <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0058"> CHAPTER V. </a>FLORINE. + <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0059"> CHAPTER VI. </a>MOTHER + SAINTE-PERPETUE. <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0060"> CHAPTER VII. </a>THE + TEMPTATION. <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0061"> CHAPTER VIII. </a>MOTHER + BUNCH AND MDLLE DE CARDOVILLE. <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0062"> + CHAPTER IX. </a>THE ENCOUNTERS. <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0063"> + CHAPTER X. </a>THE MEETING. <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0064"> CHAPTER + XI. </a>DISCOVERIES. <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0065"> CHAPTER XII. + </a>THE PENAL CODE. <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0066"> CHAPTER XIII. + </a>BURGLARY. <br /><br /> <a href="#link2H_4_0077"> <b>BOOK V.</b> </a> + <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0067"> CHAPTER XIV. </a>THE EVE OF A GREAT + DAY. <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0068"> CHAPTER XV. </a>THE THUG. <br /><br /> + <a href="#link2HCH0069"> CHAPTER XVI. </a>THE TWO BROTHERS OF THE GOOD + WORK. <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0070"> CHAPTER XVII. </a>THE HOUSE IN + THE RUE SAINT-FRANCOIS. <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0071"> CHAPTER + XVIII. </a>DEBIT AND CREDIT. <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0072"> CHAPTER + XIX. </a>THE HEIR <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0073"> CHAPTER XX. </a>THE + RUPTURE. <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0074"> CHAPTER XXI. </a>THE + CHANGE. <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0075"> CHAPTER XXII. </a>THE RED + ROOM. <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0076"> CHAPTER XXIII. </a>THE + TESTAMENT. <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0077"> CHAPTER XXIV. </a>THE + LAST STROKE OF NOON. <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0078"> CHAPTER XXV. + </a>THE DEED OF GIFT. <br /><br /> <a href="#link2H_4_0090"> <b>BOOK VI.</b> + </a> <br /><br /> <a href="#link2H_PART2B"> PART SECOND. </a>THE + CHASTISEMENT. (Concluded.) <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0079"> CHAPTER + XXVI. </a>A GOOD GENIUS. <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0080"> CHAPTER + XXVII. </a>THE FIRST LAST, AND THE LAST FIRST. <br /><br /> <a + href="#link2HCH0081"> CHAPTER XXVIII. </a>THE STRANGER. <br /><br /> <a + href="#link2HCH0082"> CHAPTER XXIX. </a>THE DEN. <br /><br /> <a + href="#link2HCH0083"> CHAPTER XXX. </a>AN UNEXPECTED VISIT. <br /><br /> + <a href="#link2HCH0084"> CHAPTER XXXI. </a>FRIENDLY SERVICES. <br /><br /> + <a href="#link2HCH0085"> CHAPTER XXXII. </a>THE ADVICE. <br /><br /> <a + href="#link2HCH0086"> CHAPTER XXXIII. </a>THE ACCUSER. <br /><br /> <a + href="#link2HCH0087"> CHAPTER XXXIV. </a>FATHER D’AIGRIGNY’S + SECRETARY. <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0088"> CHAPTER XXXV. </a>SYMPATHY. + <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0089"> CHAPTER XXXVI. </a>SUSPICIONS. <br /><br /> + <a href="#link2HCH0090"> CHAPTER XXXVII. </a>EXCUSES. <br /><br /> <a + href="#link2HCH0091"> CHAPTER XXXVIII. </a>REVELATIONS. <br /><br /> <a + href="#link2HCH0092"> CHAPTER XXXIX. </a>PIERRE SIMON. <br /><br /> <a + href="#link2H_4_0106"> <b>BOOK VII.</b> </a> <br /><br /> <a + href="#link2HCH0093"> CHAPTER XL. </a>THE EAST INDIAN IN PARIS. <br /><br /> + <a href="#link2HCH0094"> CHAPTER XLI. </a>RISING. <br /><br /> <a + href="#link2HCH0095"> CHAPTER XLII. </a>DOUBTS. <br /><br /> <a + href="#link2HCH0096"> CHAPTER XLIII. </a>THE LETTER. <br /><br /> <a + href="#link2HCH0097"> CHAPTER XLIV. </a>ADRIENNE AND DJALMA. <br /><br /> + <a href="#link2HCH0098"> CHAPTER XLV. </a>THE CONSULTATION. <br /><br /> + <a href="#link2HCH0099"> CHAPTER XLVI. </a>MOTHER BUNCH’S DIARY. + <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0100"> CHAPTER XLVII. </a>THE DIARY + CONTINUED. <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0101"> CHAPTER XLVIII. </a>THE + DISCOVERY. <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0102"> CHAPTER XLIX. </a>THE + TRYSTING-PLACE OF THE WOLVES. <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0103"> + CHAPTER L. </a>THE COMMON DWELLING-HOUSE <br /><br /> <a + href="#link2HCH0104"> CHAPTER LI. </a>THE SECRET. <br /><br /> <a + href="#link2HCH0105"> CHAPTER LII. </a>REVELATIONS. <br /><br /> <a + href="#link2H_4_0120"> <b>BOOK VIII.</b> </a> <br /><br /> <a + href="#link2H_PART3"> PART THIRD.</a>THE REDEMPTION. <br /><br /> <a + href="#link2HCH0106"> CHAPTER I. </a>THE WANDERING JEW’S + CHASTISEMENT. <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0107"> CHAPTER II. </a>THE + DESCENDANTS OF THE WANDERING JEW. <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0108"> + CHAPTER III. </a>THE ATTACK. <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0109"> CHAPTER + IV. </a>THE WOLVES AND THE DEVOURERS. <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0110"> + CHAPTER V. </a>THE RETURN. <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0111"> CHAPTER + VI. </a>THE GO-BETWEEN. <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0112"> CHAPTER VII. + </a>ANOTHER SECRET. <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0113"> CHAPTER VIII. + </a>THE CONFESSION. <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0114"> CHAPTER IX. </a>LOVE. + <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0115"> CHAPTER X. </a>THE EXECUTION. <br /><br /> + <a href="#link2HCH0116"> CHAPTER XI. </a>THE CHAMPS-ELYSEES <br /><br /> + <a href="#link2HCH0117"> CHAPTER XII. </a>BEHIND THE SCENES. <br /><br /> + <a href="#link2HCH0118"> CHAPTER XIII. </a>UP WITH THE CURTAIN. <br /><br /> + <a href="#link2HCH0119"> CHAPTER XIV. </a>DEATH. <br /><br /> <a + href="#link2H_4_0137"> <b>BOOK IX.</b> </a> <br /><br /> <a + href="#link2HCH0120"> CHAPTER XV. </a>THE CONSTANT WANDERER. <br /><br /> + <a href="#link2HCH0121"> CHAPTER XVI. </a>THE LUNCHEON. <br /><br /> <a + href="#link2HCH0122"> CHAPTER XVII. </a>RENDERING THE ACCOUNT. <br /><br /> + <a href="#link2HCH0123"> CHAPTER XVIII. </a>THE SQUARE OF NOTRE DAME. + <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0124"> CHAPTER XIX. </a>THE CHOLERA + MASQUERADE.(39) <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0125"> CHAPTER XX. </a>THE + DEFIANCE. <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0126"> CHAPTER XXI. </a>BRANDY TO + THE RESCUE. <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0127"> CHAPTER XXII. </a>MEMORIES. + <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0128"> CHAPTER XXIII. </a>THE POISONER. + <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0129"> CHAPTER XXIV. </a>IN THE CATHEDRAL. + <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0130"> CHAPTER XXV. </a>THE MURDERERS. + <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0131"> CHAPTER XXVI. </a>THE PATIENT. <br /><br /> + <a href="#link2HCH0132"> CHAPTER XXVII. </a>THE LURE. <br /><br /> <a + href="#link2HCH0133"> CHAPTER XXVIII. </a>GOOD NEWS. <br /><br /> <a + href="#link2HCH0134"> CHAPTER XXIX. </a>THE OPERATION. <br /><br /> <a + href="#link2HCH0135"> CHAPTER XXX. </a>THE TORTURE. <br /><br /> <a + href="#link2HCH0136"> CHAPTER XXXI. </a>VICE AND VIRTUE. <br /><br /> <a + href="#link2HCH0137"> CHAPTER XXXII. </a>SUICIDE. <br /><br /> <a + href="#link2H_4_0156"> <b>BOOK X.</b> </a> <br /><br /> <a + href="#link2HCH0138"> CHAPTER XXXIII. </a>CONFESSIONS. <br /><br /> <a + href="#link2HCH0139"> CHAPTER XXXIV. </a>MORE CONFESSIONS. <br /><br /> <a + href="#link2HCH0140"> CHAPTER XXXV. </a>THE RIVALS. <br /><br /> <a + href="#link2HCH0141"> CHAPTER XXXVI. </a>THE INTERVIEW. <br /><br /> <a + href="#link2HCH0142"> CHAPTER XXXVII. </a>SOOTHING WORDS. <br /><br /> <a + href="#link2HCH0143"> CHAPTER XXXVIII. </a>THE TWO CARRIAGES. <br /><br /> + <a href="#link2HCH0144"> CHAPTER XXXIX. </a>THE APPOINTMENT. <br /><br /> + <a href="#link2HCH0145"> CHAPTER XL. </a>ANXIETY. <br /><br /> <a + href="#link2HCH0146"> CHAPTER XLI. </a>ADRIENNE AND DJALMA. <br /><br /> + <a href="#link2HCH0147"> CHAPTER XLII. </a>"THE IMITATION.” <br /><br /> + <a href="#link2HCH0148"> CHAPTER XLIII. </a>PRAYER. <br /><br /> <a + href="#link2HCH0149"> CHAPTER XLIV. </a>REMEMBRANCES. <br /><br /> <a + href="#link2HCH0150"> CHAPTER XLV. </a>THE BLOCKHEAD <br /><br /> <a + href="#link2HCH0151"> CHAPTER XLVI. </a>THE ANONYMOUS LETTERS. <br /><br /> + <a href="#link2HCH0152"> CHAPTER XLVII. </a>THE GOLDEN CITY. <br /><br /> + <a href="#link2HCH0153"> CHAPTER XLVIII. </a>THE STUNG LION. <br /><br /> + <a href="#link2HCH0154"> CHAPTER XLIX. </a>THE TEST. <br /><br /> <a + href="#link2H_4_0174"> <b>BOOK XI.</b> </a> <br /><br /> <a + href="#link2H_EPIL"> EPILOGUE. </a> <br /><br /> <a + href="#link2HCH0155"> CHAPTER L. </a>THE RUINS OF THE ABBEY OF ST. JOHN + THE BAPTIST. <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0156"> CHAPTER LI. </a>THE + CALVARY. <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0157"> CHAPTER LII. </a>THE + COUNCIL. <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0158"> CHAPTER LIII. </a>HAPPINESS. + <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0159"> CHAPTER LIV. </a>DUTY. <br /><br /> <a + href="#link2HCH0160"> CHAPTER LV. </a>THE IMPROVISED HOSPITAL <br /><br /> + <a href="#link2HCH0161"> CHAPTER LVI. </a>HYDROPHOBIA. <br /><br /> <a + href="#link2HCH0162"> CHAPTER LVII. </a>THE GUARDIAN ANGEL. <br /><br /> + <a href="#link2HCH0163"> CHAPTER LVIII. </a>RUIN. <br /><br /> <a + href="#link2HCH0164"> CHAPTER LIX. </a>MEMORIES. <br /><br /> <a + href="#link2HCH0165"> CHAPTER LX. </a>THE ORDEAL. <br /><br /> <a + href="#link2HCH0166"> CHAPTER LXI. </a>AMBITION. <br /><br /> <a + href="#link2HCH0167"> CHAPTER LXII. </a>TO A SOCIUS, A SOCIUS AND A + HALF. <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0168"> CHAPTER LXIII. </a>FARINGHEA’S + AFFECTION. <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0169"> CHAPTER LXIV. </a>AN + EVENING AT SAINTE-COLOMBE’S. <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0170"> + CHAPTER LXV. </a>THE NUPTIAL BED. <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0171"> + CHAPTER LXVI. </a>A DUEL TO THE DEATH. <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0172"> + CHAPTER LXVII. </a>A MESSAGE. <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0173"> + CHAPTER LXVIII. </a>THE FIRST OF JUNE. <br /><br /> <a href="#link2H_EPIL2"> + <b>EPILOGUE.</b> </a> <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0174"> + CHAPTER I. </a>FOUR YEARS AFTER. <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0175"> + CHAPTER II. </a>THE REDEMPTION. <br /><br /> + </p> + </blockquote> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> <a name="link2H_4_0001" id="link2H_4_0001"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <h1> + THE WANDERING JEW. + </h1> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0002" id="link2H_4_0002"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + First Part.—The Transgression. + </h2> + <p> + <a name="link2H_PROL" id="link2H_PROL"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Prologue. + </h2> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0004" id="link2H_4_0004"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + The Land’s End of Two Worlds. + </h2> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>he Arctic Ocean + encircles with a belt of eternal ice the desert confines of Siberia and + North America—the uttermost limits of the Old and New worlds, + separated by the narrow, channel, known as Behring’s Straits. + </p> + <p> + The last days of September have arrived. + </p> + <p> + The equinox has brought with it darkness and Northern storms, and night + will quickly close the short and dismal polar day. The sky of a dull and + leaden blue is faintly lighted by a sun without warmth, whose white disk, + scarcely seen above the horizon, pales before the dazzling, brilliancy of + the snow that covers, as far as the eyes can reach, the boundless steppes. + </p> + <p> + To the North, this desert is bounded by a ragged coast, bristling with + huge black rocks. + </p> + <p> + At the base of this Titanic mass lied enchained the petrified ocean, whose + spell-bound waves appear fired as vast ranges of ice mountains, their blue + peaks fading away in the far-off frost smoke, or snow vapor. + </p> + <p> + Between the twin-peaks of Cape East, the termination of Siberia, the + sullen sea is seen to drive tall icebergs across a streak of dead green. + There lies Behring’s Straits. + </p> + <p> + Opposite, and towering over the channel, rise the granite masses of Cape + Prince of Wales, the headland of North America. + </p> + <p> + These lonely latitudes do not belong to the habitable world; for the + piercing cold shivers the stones, splits the trees, and causes the earth + to burst asunder, which, throwing forth showers of icy spangles seems + capable of enduring this solitude of frost and tempest, of famine and + death. + </p> + <p> + And yet, strange to say, footprints may be traced on the snow, covering + these headlands on either side of Behring’s Straits. + </p> + <p> + On the American shore, the footprints are small and light, thus betraying + the passage of a woman. + </p> + <p> + She has been hastening up the rocky peak, whence the drifts of Siberia are + visible. + </p> + <p> + On the latter ground, footprints larger and deeper betoken the passing of + a man. He also was on his way to the Straits. + </p> + <p> + It would seem that this man and woman had arrived here from opposite + directions, in hope of catching a glimpse of one another, across the arm + of the sea dividing the two worlds—the Old and the New. + </p> + <p> + More strange still! the man and the woman have crossed the solitudes + during a terrific storm! Black pines, the growth of centuries, pointing + their bent heads in different parts of the solitude like crosses in a + churchyard, have been uprooted, rent, and hurled aside by the blasts! + </p> + <p> + Yet the two travellers face this furious tempest, which has plucked up + trees, and pounded the frozen masses into splinters, with the roar of + thunder. + </p> + <p> + They face it, without for one single instant deviating from the straight + line hitherto followed by them. + </p> + <p> + Who then are these two beings who advance thus calmly amidst the storms + and convulsions of nature? + </p> + <p> + Is it by chance, or design, or destiny, that the seven nails in the sole + of the man’s shoe form a cross—thus: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + * + * * * + * + * + * +</pre> + <p> + Everywhere he leaves this impress behind him. + </p> + <p> + On the smooth and polished snow, these footmarks seem imprinted by a foot + of brass on a marble floor. + </p> + <p> + Night without twilight has soon succeeded day—a night of foreboding + gloom. + </p> + <p> + The brilliant reflection of the snow renders the white steppes still + visible beneath the azure darkness of the sky; and the pale stars glimmer + on the obscure and frozen dome. + </p> + <p> + Solemn silence reigns. + </p> + <p> + But, towards the Straits, a faint light appears. + </p> + <p> + At first, a gentle, bluish light, such as precedes moonrise; it increases + in brightness, and assumes a ruddy hue. + </p> + <p> + Darkness thickens in every other direction; the white wilds of the desert + are now scarcely visible under the black vault of the firmament. + </p> + <p> + Strange and confused noises are heard amidst this obscurity. + </p> + <p> + They sound like the flight of large night—birds—now flapping + now-heavily skimming over the steppes-now descending. + </p> + <p> + But no cry is heard. + </p> + <p> + This silent terror heralds the approach of one of those imposing phenomena + that awe alike the most ferocious and the most harmless, of animated + beings. An Aurora Borealis (magnificent sight!) common in the polar + regions, suddenly beams forth. + </p> + <p> + A half circle of dazzling whiteness becomes visible in the horizon. + Immense columns of light stream forth from this dazzling centre, rising to + a great height, illuminating earth, sea, and sky. Then a brilliant + reflection, like the blaze of a conflagration, steals over the snow of the + desert, purples the summits of the mountains of ice, and imparts a dark + red hue to the black rocks of both continents. + </p> + <p> + After attaining this magnificent brilliancy, the Northern Lights fade away + gradually, and their vivid glow is lost in a luminous fog. + </p> + <p> + Just then, by a wondrous mirage an effect very common in high latitudes, + the American Coast, though separated from Siberia by a broad arm of the + sea, loomed so close that a bridge might seemingly be thrown from one + world to other. + </p> + <p> + Then human forms appeared in the transparent azure haze overspreading both + forelands. + </p> + <p> + On the Siberian Cape, a man on his knees, stretched his arms towards + America, with an expression of inconceivable despair. + </p> + <p> + On the American promontory, a young and handsome woman replied to the man’s + despairing gesture by pointing to heaven. + </p> + <p> + For some seconds, these two tall figures stood out, pale and shadowy, in + the farewell gleams of the Aurora. + </p> + <p> + But the fog thickens, and all is lost in the darkness. + </p> + <p> + Whence came the two beings, who met thus amidst polar glaciers, at the + extremities of the Old and New worlds? + </p> + <p> + Who were the two creatures, brought near for a moment by a deceitful + mirage, but who seemed eternally separated? + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0001" id="link2HCH0001"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER I. MOROK. + </h2> + <h3> + The month of October, 1831, draws to its close. + </h3> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span> hough it is still + day, a brass lamp, with four burners, illumines the cracked walls of a + large loft, whose solitary window is closed against outer light. A ladder, + with its top rungs coming up through an open trap leads to it. + </p> + <p> + Here and there at random on the floor lie iron chains, spiked collars, + saw-toothed snaffles, muzzles bristling with nails, and long iron rods set + in wooden handles. In one corner stands a portable furnace, such as + tinkers use to melt their spelter; charcoal and dry chips fill it, so that + a spark would suffice to kindle this furnace in a minute. + </p> + <p> + Not far from this collection of ugly instruments, putting one in mind of a + torturer’s kit of tools, there are some articles of defence and + offence of a bygone age. A coat of mail, with links so flexible, close, + and light, that it resembles steel tissue, hangs from a box beside iron + cuishes and arm-pieces, in good condition, even to being properly fitted + with straps. A mace, and two long three-cornered-headed pikes, with ash + handles, strong, and light at the same time; spotted with lately-shed + blood, complete the armory, modernized somewhat by the presence of two + Tyrolese rifles, loaded and primed. + </p> + <p> + Along with this arsenal of murderous weapons and out-of-date instruments, + is strangely mingled a collection of very different objects, being small + glass-lidded boxes, full of rosaries, chaplets, medals, AGNUS DEI, holy + water bottles, framed pictures of saints, etc., not to forget a goodly + number of those chapbooks, struck off in Friburg on coarse bluish paper, + in which you can hear about miracles of our own time, or “Jesus + Christ’s Letter to a true believer,” containing awful + predictions, as for the years 1831 and ‘32, about impious + revolutionary France. + </p> + <p> + One of those canvas daubs, with which strolling showmen adorn their + booths, hangs from a rafter, no doubt to prevent its being spoilt by too + long rolling up. It bore the following legend: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “THE DOWNRIGHT TRUE AND MOST MEMORABLE CONVERSION OF IGNATIUS MOROK, + KNOWN AS THE PROPHET, HAPPENING IN FRIBURG, 1828TH YEAR OF GRACE.” + </pre> + <p> + This picture, of a size larger than natural, of gaudy color, and in bad + taste, is divided into three parts, each presenting an important phase in + the life of the convert, surnamed “The Prophet.” In the first, + behold a long-bearded man, the hair almost white, with uncouth face, and + clad in reindeer skin, like the Siberian savage. His black foreskin cap is + topped with a raven’s head; his features express terror. Bent + forward in his sledge, which half-a-dozen huge tawny dogs draw over the + snow, he is fleeing from the pursuit of a pack of foxes, wolves, and big + bears, whose gaping jaws, and formidable teeth, seem quite capable of + devouring man, sledge, and dogs, a hundred times over. Beneath this + section, reads: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “IN 1810, MOROK, THE IDOLATER, FLED FROM WILD BEASTS.” + </pre> + <p> + In the second picture, Morok, decently clad in a catechumen’s white + gown kneels, with clasped hands, to a man who wears a white neckcloth, and + flowing black robe. In a corner, a tall angel, of repulsive aspect, holds + a trumpet in one hand, and flourishes a flaming sword with the other, + while the words which follow flow out of his mouth, in red letters on a + black ground: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “MOROK, THE IDOLATER, FLED FROM WILD BEASTS; BUT WILD BEASTS WILL FLEE + FROM IGNATIUS MOROK, CONVERTED AND BAPTIZED IN FRIBURG.” + </pre> + <p> + Thus, in the last compartment, the new convert proudly, boastfully, and + triumphantly parades himself in a flowing robe of blue; head up, left arm + akimbo, right hand outstretched, he seems to scare the wits out of a + multitude of lions, tigers, hyenas, and bears, who, with sheathed claws, + and masked teeth, crouch at his feet, awestricken, and submissive. + </p> + <p> + Under this, is the concluding moral: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “IGNATIUS MOROK BEING CONVERTED, WILD BEASTS CROUCH BEFORE HIM.” + </pre> + <p> + Not far from this canvas are several parcels of halfpenny books, likewise + from the Friburg press, which relate by what an astounding miracle Morok, + the Idolater, acquired a supernatural power almost divine, the moment he + was converted—a power which the wildest animal could not resist, and + which was testified to every day by the lion tamer’s performances, + “given less to display his courage than to show his praise unto the + Lord.” + </p> + <p> + Through the trap-door which opens into the loft, reek up puffs of a rank, + sour, penetrating odor. From time to time are heard sonorous growls and + deep breathings, followed by a dull sound, as of great bodies stretching + themselves heavily along the floor. + </p> + <p> + A man is alone in this loft. It is Morok, the tamer of wild beasts, + surnamed the Prophet. + </p> + <p> + He is forty years old, of middle height, with lank limbs, and an + exceedingly spare frame; he is wrapped in a long, blood-red pelisse, lined + with black fur; his complexion, fair by nature is bronzed by the wandering + life he has led from childhood; his hair, of that dead yellow peculiar to + certain races of the Polar countries, falls straight and stiff down his + shoulders; and his thin, sharp, hooked nose, and prominent cheek-bones, + surmount a long beard, bleached almost to whiteness. Peculiarly marking + the physiognomy of this man is the wide open eye, with its tawny pupil + ever encircled by a rim of white. This fixed, extraordinary look, + exercises a real fascination over animals—which, however, does not + prevent the Prophet from also employing, to tame them, the terrible + arsenal around him. + </p> + <p> + Seated at a table, he has just opened the false bottom of a box, filled + with chaplets and other toys, for the use of the devout. Beneath this + false bottom, secured by a secret lock, are several sealed envelopes, with + no other address than a number, combined with a letter of the alphabet. + The Prophet takes one of these packets, conceals it in the pocket of his + pelisse, and, closing the secret fastening of the false bottom, replaces + the box upon a shelf. + </p> + <p> + This scene occurs about four o’clock in the afternoon, in the White + Falcon, the only hostelry in the little village of Mockern, situated near + Leipsic, as you come from the north towards France. + </p> + <p> + After a few moments, the loft is shaken by a hoarse roaring from below. + </p> + <p> + “Judas! be quiet!” exclaims the Prophet, in a menacing tone, + as he turns his head towards the trap door. + </p> + <p> + Another deep growl is heard, formidable as distant thunder. + </p> + <p> + “Lie down, Cain!” cries Morok, starting from his seat. + </p> + <p> + A third roar, of inexpressible ferocity, bursts suddenly on the ear. + </p> + <p> + “Death! Will you have done,” cries the Prophet, rushing + towards the trap door, and addressing a third invisible animal, which + bears this ghastly name. + </p> + <p> + Notwithstanding the habitual authority of his voice—notwithstanding + his reiterated threats—the brute-tamer cannot obtain silence: on the + contrary, the barking of several dogs is soon added to the roaring of the + wild beasts. Morok seizes a pike, and approaches the ladder; he is about + to descend, when he sees some one issuing from the aperture. + </p> + <p> + The new-comer has a brown, sun-burnt face; he wears a gray hat, bell + crowned and broad-brimmed, with a short jacket, and wide trousers of green + cloth; his dusty leathern gaiters show that he has walked some distance; a + game-bag is fastened by straps to his back. + </p> + <p> + “The devil take the brutes!” cried he, as he set foot on the + floor; “one would think they’d forgotten me in three days. + Judas thrust his paw through the bars of his cage, and Death danced like a + fury. They don’t know me any more, it seems?” + </p> + <p> + This was said in German. Morok answered in the same language, but with a + slightly foreign accent. + </p> + <p> + “Good or bad news, Karl?” he inquired, with some uneasiness. + </p> + <p> + “Good news.” + </p> + <p> + “You’ve met them!” + </p> + <p> + “Yesterday; two leagues from Wittenberg.” + </p> + <p> + “Heaven be praised!” cried Morok, clasping his hands with + intense satisfaction. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, of course, ‘tis the direct road from Russia to France, + ‘twas a thousand to one that we should find them somewhere between + Wittenberg and Leipsic.” + </p> + <p> + “And the description?” + </p> + <p> + “Very close: two young girls in mourning; horse, white; the old man + has long moustache, blue forage-cap; gray topcoat and a Siberian dog at + his heels.” + </p> + <p> + “And where did you leave them?” + </p> + <p> + “A league hence. They will be here within the hour.” + </p> + <p> + “And in this inn—since it is the only one in the village,” + said Morok, with a pensive air. + </p> + <p> + “And night drawing on,” added Karl. + </p> + <p> + “Did you get the old man to talk?” + </p> + <p> + “Him!—you don’t suppose it!” + </p> + <p> + “Why not?” + </p> + <p> + “Go, and try yourself.” + </p> + <p> + “And for what reason?” + </p> + <p> + “Impossible.” + </p> + <p> + “Impossible—why?” + </p> + <p> + “You shall know all about it. Yesterday, as if I had fallen in with + them by chance, I followed them to the place where they stopped for the + night. I spoke in German to the tall old man, accosting him, as is usual + with wayfarers, ‘Good-day, and a pleasant journey, comrade!’ + But, for an answer, he looked askant at me, and pointed with, the end of + his stick to the other side of the road.” + </p> + <p> + “He is a Frenchman, and, perhaps, does not understand German.” + </p> + <p> + “He speaks it, at least as well as you; for at the inn I heard him + ask the host for whatever he and the young girls wanted.” + </p> + <p> + “And did you not again attempt to engage him in conversation?” + </p> + <p> + “Once only; but I met with such a rough reception, that for fear of + making mischief, I did not try again. Besides, between ourselves, I can + tell you this man has a devilish ugly look; believe me, in spite of his + gray moustache, he looks so vigorous and resolute, though with no more + flesh on him than a carcass, that I don’t know whether he or my mate + Giant Goliath, would have the best of it in a struggle. I know not your + plans: only take care, master—take care!” + </p> + <p> + “My black panther of Java was also very vigorous and very vicious,” + said Morok, with a grim, disdainful, smile. + </p> + <p> + “What, Death? Yes; in truth; and she is vigorous and vicious as + ever. Only to you she is almost mild.” + </p> + <p> + “And thus I will break this tall old man; notwithstanding his + strength and surliness.” + </p> + <p> + “Humph! humph! be on your guard, master. You are clever, you are as + brave as any one; but, believe me, you will never make a lamb out of the + old wolf that will be here presently.” + </p> + <p> + “Does not my lion, Cain—does not my tiger, Judas, crouch in + terror before me?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I believe you there—because you have means—” + </p> + <p> + “Because I have faith: that is all—and it is all,” said + Morok, imperiously interrupting Karl, and accompanying these words with + such a look, that the other hung his head and was silent. + </p> + <p> + “Why should not he whom the Lord upholds in his struggle with wild + beasts, be also upheld in his struggle with men, when those men are + perverse and impious?” added the Prophet, with a triumphant, + inspired air. + </p> + <p> + Whether from belief in his master’s conviction, or from inability to + engage in a controversy with him on so delicate a subject, Karl answered + the Prophet, humbly: “you are wiser than I am, master; what you do + must be well done.” + </p> + <p> + “Did you follow this old man and these two young girls all day long?” + resumed the Prophet, after a moment’s silence. + </p> + <p> + “Yes; but at a distance. As I know the country well, I sometimes cut + across a valley, sometimes over a hill, keeping my eye upon the road, + where they were always to be seen. The last time I saw them, I was hid + behind the water-mill by the potteries. As they were on the highway for + this place, and night was drawing on, I quickened my pace to get here + before them, and be the bearer of what you call good news.” + </p> + <p> + “Very good—yes—very good: and you shall be rewarded; for + if these people had escaped me—” + </p> + <p> + The Prophet started, and did not conclude the sentence. The expression of + his face, and the tones of his voice, indicated the importance of the + intelligence which had just been brought him. + </p> + <p> + “In truth,” rejoined Karl, “it may be worth attending + to; for that Russian courier, all plastered with lace, who came, without + slacking bridle, from St. Petersburg to Leipsic, only to see you, rode so + fast, perhaps, for the purpose—” + </p> + <p> + Morok abruptly interrupted Karl, and said: + </p> + <p> + “Who told you that the arrival of the courier had anything to do + with these travellers? You are mistaken; you should only know what I + choose to tell you.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, master, forgive me, and let’s say no more about it. So! + I will get rid of my game-bag, and go help Goliath to feed the brutes, for + their supper time draws near, if it is not already past. Does our big + giant grow lazy, master?” + </p> + <p> + “Goliath is gone out; he must not know that you are returned; above + all, the tall old man and the maidens must not see you here—it would + make them suspect something.” + </p> + <p> + “Where do you wish me to go, then?” + </p> + <p> + “Into the loft, at the end of the stable, and wait my orders; you + may this night have to set out for Leipsic.” + </p> + <p> + “As you please; I have some provisions left in my pouch, and can sup + in the loft whilst I rest myself.” + </p> + <p> + “Go.” + </p> + <p> + “Master, remember what I told you. Beware of that old fellow with + the gray moustache; I think he’s devilish tough; I’m up to + these things—he’s an ugly customer—be on your guard!” + </p> + <p> + “Be quite easy! I am always on my guard,” said Morok. + </p> + <p> + “Then good luck to you, master!”—and Karl, having + reached the ladder, suddenly disappeared. + </p> + <p> + After making a friendly farewell gesture to his servant, the Prophet + walked up and down for some time, with an air of deep meditation; then, + approaching the box which contained the papers, he took out a pretty long + letter, and read it over and over with profound attention. From time to + time he rose and went to the closed window, which looked upon the inner + court of the inn, and appealed to listen anxiously; for he waited with + impatience the arrival of the three persons whose approach had just been + announced to him. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0002" id="link2HCH0002"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER II. THE TRAVELLERS. + </h2> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">W</span>hile the above + scene was passing in the White Falcon at Mockern, the three persons whose + arrival Morok was so anxiously expecting, travelled on leisurely in the + midst of smiling meadows, bounded on one side by a river, the current of + which turned a mill; and on the other by the highway leading to the + village, which was situated on an eminence, at about a league’s + distance. + </p> + <p> + The sky was beautifully serene; the bubbling of the river, beaten by the + mill-wheel and sparkling with foam, alone broke upon the silence of an + evening profoundly calm. Thick willows, bending over the river, covered it + with their green transparent shadow; whilst, further on, the stream + reflected so splendidly the blue heavens and the glowing tints of the + west, that, but for the hills which rose between it and the sky, the gold + and azure of the water would have mingled in one dazzling sheet with the + gold and azure of the firmament. The tall reeds on the bank bent their + black velvet heads beneath the light breath of the breeze that rises at + the close of day—for the sun was gradually sinking behind a broad + streak of purple clouds, fringed with fire. The tinkling bells of a flock + of sheep sounded from afar in the clear and sonorous air. + </p> + <p> + Along a path trodden in the grass of the meadow, two girls, almost + children—for they had but just completed their fifteenth year—were + riding on a white horse of medium size, seated upon a large saddle with a + back to it, which easily took them both in, for their figures were slight + and delicate. + </p> + <p> + A man of tall stature, with a sun-burnt face, and long gray moustache, was + leading the horse by the bridle, and ever and anon turned towards the + girls, with an air of solicitude at once respectful and paternal. He + leaned upon a long staff; his still robust shoulders carried a soldier’s + knapsack; his dusty shoes, and step that began to drag a little, showed + that he had walked a long way. + </p> + <p> + One of those dogs which the tribes of Northern Siberia harness to their + sledges—a sturdy animal, nearly of the size, form, and hairy coat of + the wolf—followed closely in the steps of the leader of this little + caravan, never quitting, as it is commonly said, the heels of his master. + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:65%;"> + <img src="images/10033m.jpg" alt="10033m " width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/10033.jpg"><i>Original</i></a> + </h5> + <p> + Nothing could be more charming than the group formed by the girls. One + held with her left hand the flowing reins, and with her right encircled + the waist of her sleeping sister, whose head reposed on her shoulder. Each + step of the horse gave a graceful swaying to these pliant forms, and swung + their little feet, which rested on a wooden ledge in lieu of a stirrup. + </p> + <p> + These twin sisters, by a sweet maternal caprice, had been called Rose and + Blanche; they were now orphans, as might be seen by their sad mourning + vestments, already much worn. Extremely, like in feature, and of the same + size, it was necessary to be in the constant habit of seeing them, to + distinguish one from the other. The portrait of her who slept not, might + serve them for both of them; the only difference at the moment being, that + Rose was awake and discharging for that day the duties of elder sister—duties + thus divided between then, according to the fancy of their guide, who, + being an old soldier of the empire, and a martinet, had judged fit thus to + alternate obedience and command between the orphans. + </p> + <p> + Greuze would have been inspired by the sight of those sweet faces, coifed + in close caps of black velvet, from beneath which strayed a profusion of + thick ringlets of a light chestnut color, floating down their necks and + shoulders, and setting, as in a frame, their round, firm, rosy, satin like + cheeks. A carnation, bathed in dew, is of no richer softness than their + blooming lips; the wood violet’s tender blue would appear dark + beside the limpid azure of their large eyes, in which are depicted the + sweetness of their characters, and the innocence of their age; a pure and + white forehead, small nose, dimpled chin, complete these graceful + countenances, which present a delightful blending of candor and + gentleness. + </p> + <p> + You should have seen them too, when, on the threatening of rain or storm, + the old soldier carefully wrapped them both in a large pelisse of reindeer + fur, and pulled over their heads the ample hood of this impervious + garment; then nothing could be more lovely than those fresh and smiling + little faces, sheltered beneath the dark-colored cowl. + </p> + <p> + But now the evening was fine and calm; the heavy cloak hung in folds about + the knees of the sisters, and the hood rested on the back of their saddle. + </p> + <p> + Rose, still encircling with her right arm the waist of her sleeping + sister, contemplated her with an expression of ineffable tenderness, akin + to maternal; for Rose was the eldest for the day, and an elder sister is + almost a mother. + </p> + <p> + Not only, did the orphans idolize each other; but, by a psychological + phenomenon, frequent with twins, they were almost always simultaneously + affected; the emotion of one was reflected instantly in the countenance of + the other; the same cause would make both of them start or blush, so + closely did their young hearts beat in unison; all ingenuous joys, all + bitter griefs were mutually felt, and shared in a moment between them. + </p> + <p> + In their infancy, simultaneously attacked by a severe illness, like two + flowers on the same steam, they had drooped, grown pale, and languished + together; but together also had they again found the pure, fresh hues of + health. + </p> + <p> + Need it be said, that those mysterious, indissoluble links which united + the twins, could not have been broken without striking a mortal blow at + the existence of the poor children? + </p> + <p> + Thus the sweet birds called love-birds, only living in pairs, as if + endowed with a common life, pine, despond, and die, when parted by a + barbarous hand. + </p> + <p> + The guide of the orphans, a man of about fifty-five, distinguished by his + military air and gait, preserved the immortal type of the warriors of the + republic and the empire—some heroic of the people, who became, in + one campaign, the first soldiers in the world—to prove what the + people can do, have done, and will renew, when the rulers of their choice + place in them confidence, strength, and their hope. + </p> + <p> + This soldier, guide of the sisters, and formerly a horse-grenadier of the + Imperial Guard, had been nicknamed Dagobert. His grave, stern countenance + was strongly marked; his long, gray, and thick moustache completely + concealed his upper lip, and united with a large imperial, which almost + covered his chin; his meagre cheeks, brick-colored, and tanned as + parchment, were carefully shaven; thick eyebrows, still black, overhung + and shaded his light blue eyes; gold ear-rings reached down to his + white-edged military stock; his topcoat, of coarse gray cloth, was + confined at the waist by a leathern belt; and a blue foraging cap, with a + red tuft falling on his left shoulder, covered his bald head. + </p> + <p> + Once endowed with the strength of Hercules, and having still the heart of + a lion—kind and patient, because he was courageous and strong—Dagobert, + notwithstanding his rough exterior, evinced for his orphan charges an + exquisite solicitude, a watchful kindness, and a tenderness almost + maternal. Yes, motherly; for the heroism of affection dwells alike in the + mother’s heart and the soldiers. + </p> + <p> + Stoically calm, and repressing all emotion, the unchangeable coolness of + Dagobert never failed him; and, though few were less given to drollery, he + was now and then highly comic, by reason of the imperturbable gravity with + which he did everything. + </p> + <p> + From time to time, as they journeyed on, Dagobert would turn to bestow a + caress or friendly word on the good white home upon which the orphans were + mounted. Its furrowed sides and long teeth betrayed a venerable age. Two + deep scars, one on the flank and the other on the chest, proved that his + horse had been present in hot battles; nor was it without an act of pride + that he sometimes shook his old military bridle, the brass stud of which + was still adorned with an embossed eagle. His pace was regular, careful, + and steady; his coat sleek, and his bulk moderate; the abundant foam, + which covered his bit, bore witness to that health which horses acquire by + the constant, but not excessive, labor of a long journey, performed by + short stages. Although he had been more than six months on the road, this + excellent animal carried the orphans, with a tolerably heavy portmanteau + fastened to the saddle, as freely as on the day they started. + </p> + <p> + If we have spoken of the excessive length of the horse’s teeth—the + unquestionable evidence of great age—it is chiefly because he often + displayed them, for the sole purpose of acting up to his name (he was + called Jovial), by playing a mischievous trick, of which the dog was the + victim. + </p> + <p> + This latter, who, doubtless for the sake of contrast, was called + Spoil-sport (Rabat-joie), being always at his master’s heels, found + himself within the reach of Jovial, who from time to time nipped him + delicately by the nape of the neck, lifted him from the ground, and + carried him thus for a moment. The dog, protected by his thick coat, and + no doubt long accustomed to the practical jokes of his companion, + submitted to all this with stoical complacency; save that, when he thought + the jest had lasted long enough, he would turn his head and growl. Jovial + understood him at the first hint, and hastened to set him down again. At + other times, just to avoid monotony, Jovial would gently bite the knapsack + of the soldier, who seemed, as well as the dog, to be perfectly accustomed + to his pleasantries. + </p> + <p> + These details will give a notion of the excellent understanding that + existed between the twin sisters, the old soldier, the horse, and the dog. + </p> + <p> + The little caravan proceeded on its ways anxious to reach, before night, + the village of Mockern, which was now visible on the summit of a hill. + Ever and anon, Dagobert looked around him, and seemed to be gathering up + old recollections; by degrees, his countenance became clouded, and when he + was at a little distance from the mill, the noise of which had arrested + his attention, he stopped, and drew his long moustache several times + between his finger and thumb, the only sign which revealed in him any + strong and concentrated feeling. + </p> + <p> + Jovial, having stopped short behind his master, Blanche, awakened suddenly + by the shock, raised her head; her first look sought her sister, on whom + she smiled sweetly; then both exchanged glances of surprise, on seeing + Dagobert motionless, with his hands clasped and resting on his long staff, + apparently affected by some painful and deep emotion. + </p> + <p> + The orphans just chanced to be at the foot of a little mound, the summit + of which was buried in the thick foliage of a huge oak, planted half way + down the slope. Perceiving that Dagobert continued motionless and absorbed + in thought, Rose leaned over her saddle, and, placing her little white + hand on the shoulder of their guide, whose back was turned towards her, + said to him, in a soft voice, “Whatever is the matter with you, + Dagobert?” + </p> + <p> + The veteran turned; to the great astonishment of the sisters, they + perceived a large tear, which traced its humid furrow down his tanned + cheek, and lost itself in his thick moustache. + </p> + <p> + “You weeping—you!” cried Rose and Blanche together, + deeply moved. “Tell us, we beseech, what is the matter?” + </p> + <p> + After a moments hesitation, the soldier brushed his horny hand across his + eyes, and said to the orphans in a faltering voice, whilst he pointed to + the old oak beside them: “I shall make you sad, my poor children: + and yet what I’m going to tell you has something sacred in it. Well, + eighteen years ago, on the eve of the great battle of Leipsic, I carried + your father to this very tree. He had two sabre-cuts on the head, a musket + ball in his shoulder; and it was here that he and I—who had got two + thrust of a lance for my share—were taken prisoners; and by whom, + worse luck?—why, a renegado! By a Frenchman—an emigrant + marquis, then colonel in the service of Russia—and who afterwards—but + one day you shall know all.” + </p> + <p> + The veteran paused; then, pointing with his staff to the village of + Mockern, he added: “Yes, yes, I can recognize the spot. Yonder are + the heights where your brave father—who commanded us, and the Poles + of the Guard—overthrew the Russian Cuirassiers, after having carried + the battery. Ah, my children!” continued the soldier, with the + utmost simplicity, “I wish you had, seen your brave father, at the + head of our brigade of horse, rushing on in a desperate charge in the + thick of a shower of shells!—There was nothing like it—not a + soul so grand as he!” + </p> + <p> + Whilst Dagobert thus expressed, in his own way, his regrets and + recollections, the two orphans—by a spontaneous movement, glided + gently from the horse, and holding each other by the hand, went together + to kneel at the foot of the old oak. And there, closely pressed in each + other’s arms, they began to weep; whilst the soldier, standing + behind them, with his hands crossed on his long staff, rested his bald + front upon it. + </p> + <p> + “Come, come you must not fret,” said he softly, when, after a + pause of a few minutes, he saw tears run down the blooming cheeks of Rose + and Blanche, still on their knees. “Perhaps we may find General + Simon in Paris,” added he; “I will explain all that to you + this evening at the inn. I purposely waited for this day, to tell you many + things about your father; it was an idea of mine, because this day is a + sort of anniversary.” + </p> + <p> + “We weep because we think also of our mother,” said Rose. + </p> + <p> + “Of our mother, whom we shall only see again in heaven,” added + Blanche. + </p> + <p> + The soldier raised the orphans, took each by the hand, and gazing from one + to the other with ineffable affection, rendered still the more touching by + the contrast of his rude features, “You must not give way thus, my + children,” said he; “it is true your mother was the best of + women. When she lived in Poland, they called her the Pearl of Warsaw—it + ought to have been the Pearl of the Whole World—for in the whole + world you could not have found her match. No—no!” + </p> + <p> + The voice of Dagobert faltered; he paused, and drew his long gray + moustache between finger and thumb, as was his habit. “Listen, my + girls,” he resumed, when he had mastered his emotion; “your + mother could give you none but the best advice, eh?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes Dagobert.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, what instructions did she give you before she died? To think + often of her, but without grieving?” + </p> + <p> + “It is true; she told us than our Father in heaven, always good to + poor mothers whose children are left on earth, would permit her to hear us + from above,” said Blanche. + </p> + <p> + “And that her eyes would be ever fixed upon us,” added Rose. + </p> + <p> + And the two, by a spontaneous impulse, replete with the most touching + grace, joined hands, raised their innocent looks to heaven, and exclaimed, + with that beautiful faith natural to their age: “Is it not so, + mother?—thou seest us?—thou hearest us?” + </p> + <p> + “Since your mother sees and hears you,” said Dagobert, much + moved, “do not grieve her by fretting. She forbade you to do so.” + </p> + <p> + “You are right, Dagobert. We will not cry any more.”—And + the orphans dried their eyes. + </p> + <p> + Dagobert, in the opinion of the devout, would have passed for a very + heathen. In Spain, he had found pleasure in cutting down those monks of + all orders and colors, who, bearing crucifix in one hand, and poniard in + the other, fought not for liberty—the Inquisition had strangled her + centuries ago—but, for their monstrous privileges. Yet, in forty + years, Dagobert had witnessed so many sublime and awful scenes—he + had been so many times face to face with death—that the instinct of + natural religion, common to every simple, honest heart, had always + remained uppermost in his soul. Therefore, though he did not share in the + consoling faith of the two sisters, he would have held as criminal any + attempt to weaken its influence. + </p> + <p> + Seeing them this downcast, he thus resumed: “That’s right, my + pretty ones: I prefer to hear you chat as you did this morning and + yesterday—laughing at times, and answering me when I speak, instead + of being so much engrossed with your own talk. Yes, yes, my little ladies! + you seem to have had famous secrets together these last two days—so, + much the better, if it amuses you.” + </p> + <p> + The sisters colored, and exchanged a subdued smile, which contrasted with + the tears that yet filled their eyes, and Rose said to the soldier, with a + little embarrassment. “No, I assure you, Dagobert, we talk of + nothing in particular.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, well; I don’t wish to know it. Come, rest yourselves, a + few moments more, and then we must start again; for it grows late, and we + have to reach Mockern before night, so that we may be early on the road + to-morrow.” + </p> + <p> + “Have we still a long, long way to go?” asked Rose. + </p> + <p> + “What, to reach Paris? Yes, my children; some hundred days’ + march. We don’t travel quick, but we get on; and we travel cheap, + because we have a light purse. A closet for you, a straw mattress and a + blanket at your door for me, with Spoil-sport on my feet, and a clean + litter for old Jovial, these are our whole traveling expenses. I say + nothing about food, because you two together don’t eat more than a + mouse, and I have learnt in Egypt and Spain to be hungry only when it + suits.” + </p> + <p> + “Not forgetting that, to save still more, you do all the cooking for + us, and will not even let us assist.” + </p> + <p> + “And to think, good Dagobert, that you wash almost every evening at + our resting-place. As if it were not for us to—” + </p> + <p> + “You!” said the soldier, interrupting Blanche, “I, allow + you to chap your pretty little hands in soap-suds! Pooh! don’t a + soldier on a campaign always wash his own linen? Clumsy as you see me, I + was the best washerwoman in my squadron—and what a hand at ironing! + Not to make a brag of it.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes—you can iron well—very well.” + </p> + <p> + “Only sometimes, there will be a little singe,” said Rose, + smiling. + </p> + <p> + “Hah! when the iron is too hot. Zounds! I may bring it as near my + cheek as I please; my skin is so tough that I don’t feel the heat,” + said Dagobert, with imperturbable gravity. + </p> + <p> + “We are only jesting, good Dagobert!” + </p> + <p> + “Then, children, if you think that I know my trade as a washerwoman, + let me continue to have your custom: it is cheaper; and, on a journey, + poor people like us should save where we can, for we must, at all events, + keep enough to reach Paris. Once there, our papers and the medal you wear + will do the rest—I hope so, at least.” + </p> + <p> + “This medal is sacred to us; mother gave it to us on her death-bed.” + </p> + <p> + “Therefore, take great care that you do not lose it: see, from time + to time, that you have it safe.” + </p> + <p> + “Here it is,” said Blanche, as she drew from her bosom a small + bronze medal, which she wore suspended from her neck by a chain of the + same material. The medal bore on its faces the following inscriptions: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Victim + of + L. C. D. J. + Pray for me! + —— + Paris + February the, 13th, 1682. + + At Paris. + Rue Saint Francois, No. 3, + In a century and a half + you will be. + February the 13th, 1832. + —— + PRAY FOR ME! +</pre> + <p> + “What does it mean, Dagobert?” resumed Blanche, as she + examined the mournful inscriptions. “Mother was not able to tell us.” + </p> + <p> + “We will discuss all that this evening; at the place where we sleep,” + answered Dagobert. “It grows late, let us be moving. Put up the + medal carefully, and away!—We have yet nearly an hour’s march + to arrive at quarters. Come, my poor pets, once more look at the mound + where your brave father fell—and then—to horse! to horse!” + </p> + <p> + The orphans gave a last pious glance at the spot which had recalled to + their guide such painful recollections, and, with his aid, remounted + Jovial. + </p> + <p> + This venerable animal had not for one moment dreamed of moving; but, with + the consummate forethought of a veteran, he had made the best use of his + time, by taking from that foreign soil a large contribution of green and + tender grass, before the somewhat envious eyes of Spoil-sport, who had + comfortably established himself in the meadow, with his snout protruding + between his fore-paws. On the signal of departure, the dog resumed his + post behind his master, and Dagobert, trying the ground with the end of + his long staff, led the horse carefully along by the bridle, for the + meadow was growing more and more marshy; indeed, after advancing a few + steps, he was obliged to turn off to the left, in order to regain the + high-road. + </p> + <p> + On reaching Mockern, Dagobert asked for the least expensive inn, and was + told there was only one in the village—the White Falcon. + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:65%;"> + <img src="images/10041m.jpg" alt="10041m " width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/10041.jpg"><i>Original</i></a> + </h5> + <p> + “Let us go then to the White Falcon,” observed the soldier. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0003" id="link2HCH0003"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER III. THE ARRIVAL. + </h2> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">A</span>lready had Morok + several times opened with impatience the window shutters of the loft, to + look out upon the inn-yard, watching for the arrival of the orphans and + the soldier. Not seeing them, he began once more to walk slowly up and + down, with his head bent forward, and his arms folded on his bosom, + meditating on the best means to carry out the plan he had conceived. The + ideas which possessed his mind, were, doubtless, of a painful character, + for his countenance grew even more gloomy than usual. + </p> + <p> + Notwithstanding his ferocious appearance, he was by no means deficient in + intelligence. The courage displayed in his taming exercises (which he + gravely attributed to his recent conversion), a solemn and mystical style + of speech, and a hypocritical affectation of austerity, had given him a + species of influence over the people he visited in his travels. Long + before his conversion, as may well be supposed, Morok had been familiar + with the habits of wild beasts. In fact born in the north of Siberia, he + had been, from his boyhood, one of the boldest hunters of bears and + reindeer; later, in 1810, he had abandoned this profession, to serve as + guide to a Russian engineer, who was charged with an exploring expedition + to the Polar regions. He afterwards followed him to St. Petersburg, and + there, after some vicissitudes of fortune, Morok became one of the + imperial couriers—these iron automata, that the least caprice of the + despot hurls in a frail sledge through the immensity of the empire, from + Persia to the Frozen Sea. For these men, who travel night and day, with + the rapidity of lightning there are neither seasons nor obstacles, + fatigues nor danger; living projectiles, they must either be broken to + pieces, or reach the intended mark. One may conceive the boldness, the + vigor, and the resignation, of men accustomed to such a life. + </p> + <p> + It is useless to relate here, by what series of singular circumstances + Morok was induced to exchange his rough pursuit for another profession, + and at last to enter, as catechumen, a religious house at Friburg; after + which, being duly and properly converted, he began his nomadic excursions, + with his menagerie of unknown origin. + </p> + <p> + Morok continued to walk up and down the loft. Night had come. The three + persons whose arrival he so impatiently expected had not yet made their + appearance. His walk became more and more nervous and irregular. + </p> + <p> + On a sudden he stopped abruptly; leaned his head towards the window; and + listened. His ear was quick as a savage’s. + </p> + <p> + “They are here!” he exclaimed and his fox like eye shone with + diabolic joy. He had caught the sound of footsteps—a man’s and + a horse’s. Hastening to the window-shutter of the loft, he opened it + cautiously, and saw the two young girls on horseback, and the old soldier + who served them as a guide, enter the inn-yard together. + </p> + <p> + The night had set in, dark and cloudy; a high wind made the lights flicker + in the lanterns which were used to receive the new guests. But the + description given to Morok had been so exact, that it was impossible to + mistake them. Sure of his prey, he closed the window. Having remained in + meditation for another quarter of an hour—for the purpose, no doubt, + of thoroughly digesting his projects—he leaned over the aperture, + from which projected the ladder, and called, “Goliath!” + </p> + <p> + “Master!” replied a hoarse voice. + </p> + <p> + “Come up to me.” + </p> + <p> + “Here I am—just come from the slaughter-house with the meat.” + </p> + <p> + The steps of the ladder creaked as an enormous head appeared on a level + with the floor. The new-comer, who was more than six feet high, and gifted + with herculean proportions, had been well-named Goliath. He was hideous. + His squinting eyes were deep set beneath a low and projecting forehead; + his reddish hair and beard, thick and coarse as horse-hair, gave his + features a stamp of bestial ferocity; between his broad jaws, armed with + teeth which resembled fangs, he held by one corner a piece of raw beef + weighing ten or twelve pounds, finding it, no doubt, easier to carry in + that fashion, whilst he used his hands to ascend the ladder, which bent + beneath his weight. + </p> + <p> + At length the whole of this tall and huge body issued from the aperture. + Judging by his bull-neck, the astonishing breadth of his chest and + shoulders, and the vast bulk of his arms and legs, this giant need not + have feared to wrestle single-handed with a bear. He wore an old pair of + blue trousers with red stripes, faced with tanned sheep’s-skin, and + a vest, or rather cuirass, of thick leather, which was here and there + slashed by the sharp claws of the animals. + </p> + <p> + When he was fairly on the floor, Goliath unclasped his fangs, opened his + mouth, and let fall the great piece of beef, licking his blood-stained + lips with greediness. Like many other mountebanks, this species of monster + had began by eating raw meat at the fairs for the amusement of the public. + Thence having gradually acquired a taste for this barbarous food, and + uniting pleasure with profit, he engaged himself to perform the prelude to + the exercises of Morok, by devouring, in the presence of the crowd, + several pounds of raw flesh. + </p> + <p> + “My share and Death’s are below stairs, and here are those of + Cain and Judas,” said Goliath, pointing to the chunk of beef. + “Where is the cleaver, that I may cut it in two?—No preference + here—beast or man—every gullet must have it’s own.” + </p> + <p> + Then, rolling up one of the sleeves of his vest, he exhibited a fore-arm + hairy as skin of a wolf, and knotted with veins as large as one’s + thumb. + </p> + <p> + “I say, master, where’s the cleaver?”—He again + began, as he cast round his eyes in search of that instrument. But instead + of replying to this inquiry, the Prophet put many questions to his + disciple. + </p> + <p> + “Were you below when just now some new travellers arrived at the + inn?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, master; I was coming from the slaughter-house.” + </p> + <p> + “Who are these travellers?” + </p> + <p> + “Two young lasses mounted on a white horse, and an old fellow with a + big moustache. But the cleaver?—my beasts are hungry and so am I—the + cleaver!” + </p> + <p> + “Do you know where they have lodged these travellers?” + </p> + <p> + “The host took them to the far end of the court-yard.” + </p> + <p> + “The building, which overlooks the fields?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, master—but the cleaver—” + </p> + <p> + A burst of frightful roaring shook the loft, and interrupted Goliath. + </p> + <p> + “Hark to them!” he exclaimed; “hunger has driven the + beasts wild. If I could roar, I should do as they do. I have never seen + Judas and Cain as they are to-night; they leap in their cages as if they’d + knock all to pieces. As for Death, her eyes shine more than usual like + candles—poor Death!” + </p> + <p> + “So these girls are lodged in the building at the end of the + court-yard,” resumed Morok, without attending to the observations of + Goliath. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes—but in the devil’s name, where is the cleaver? + Since Karl went away I have to do all the work, and that makes our meals + very late.” + </p> + <p> + “Did the old man remain with the young girls?” asked Morok. + </p> + <p> + Goliath, amazed that, notwithstanding his importunities, his master should + still appear to neglect the animals’ supper, regarded the Prophet + with an increase of stupid astonishment. + </p> + <p> + “Answer, you brute!” + </p> + <p> + “If I am a brute, I have a brute’s strength,” said + Goliath, in a surly tone, “and brute against brute, I have not + always come the worst off.” + </p> + <p> + “I ask if the old man remained with the girls,” repeated + Morok. + </p> + <p> + “Well, then—no!” returned the giant. “The old man, + after leading his horse to the stable, asked for a tub and some water, + took his stand under the porch—and there—by the light of a + lantern—he is washing out clothes. A man with a gray moustache!—paddling + in soap-suds like a washerwoman—it’s as if I were to feed + canaries!” added Goliath, shrugging his shoulders with disdain. + “But now I’ve answered you, master, let me attend to the + beasts’ supper,”—and, looking round for something, he + added, “where is the cleaver?” + </p> + <p> + After a moment of thoughtful silence, the Prophet said to Goliath, “You + will give no food to the beasts this evening.” + </p> + <p> + At first the giant could not understand these words, the idea was so + incomprehensible to him. + </p> + <p> + “What is your pleasure, master?” said he. + </p> + <p> + “I forbid you to give any food to the beasts this evening.” + </p> + <p> + Goliath did not answer, but he opened wide his squinting eyes, folded his + hands, and drew back a couple of steps. + </p> + <p> + “Well, dost hear me?” said Morok, with impatience. “Is + it plain enough?” + </p> + <p> + “Not feed? when our meat is there, and supper is already three hours + after time!” cried Goliath, with ever-increasing amazement. + </p> + <p> + “Obey, and hold your tongue.” + </p> + <p> + “You must wish something bad to happen this evening. Hunger makes + the beasts furious—and me also.” + </p> + <p> + “So much the better!” + </p> + <p> + “It’ll drive ‘em mad.” + </p> + <p> + “So much the better!” + </p> + <p> + “How, so much the better?—But—” + </p> + <p> + “It is enough!” + </p> + <p> + “But, devil take me, I am as hungry as the beasts!” + </p> + <p> + “Eat then—who prevents it? Your supper is ready, as you devour + it raw.” + </p> + <p> + “I never eat without my beasts, nor they without me.” + </p> + <p> + “I tell you again, that, if you dare give any food to the beasts—I + will turn you away.” + </p> + <p> + Goliath uttered a low growl as hoarse as a bear’s, and looked at the + Prophet with a mixture of anger and stupefaction. + </p> + <p> + Morok, having given his orders, walked up and down the loft, appearing to + reflect. Then, addressing himself to Goliath, who was still plunged in + deep perplexity, he said to him. + </p> + <p> + “Do you remember the burgomaster’s, where I went to get my + passport signed?—To-day his wife bought some books and a chaplet.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” answered the giant shortly. + </p> + <p> + “Go and ask his servant if I may be sure to find the burgomaster + early to-morrow morning.” + </p> + <p> + “What for?” + </p> + <p> + “I may, perhaps, have something important to communicate; at all + events, say that I beg him not to leave home without seeing me.” + </p> + <p> + “Good! but may I feed the beasts before I go to the burgomaster’s?—only + the panther, who is most hungry? Come, master; only poor Death? just a + little morsel to satisfy her; Cain and I and Judas can wait.” + </p> + <p> + “It is the panther, above all, that I forbid you to feed. Yes, her, + above all the rest.” + </p> + <p> + “By the horns of the devil!” cried Goliath, “what is the + matter with you to-day? I can make nothing of it. It is a pity that Karl’s + not here; he, being cunning, would help me to understand why you prevent + the beasts from eating when they are hungry.” + </p> + <p> + “You have no need to understand it.” + </p> + <p> + “Will not Karl soon come back?” + </p> + <p> + “He has already come back.” + </p> + <p> + “Where is he, then?” + </p> + <p> + “Off again.” + </p> + <p> + “What can be going on here? There is something in the wind. Karl + goes, and returns, and goes again, and—” + </p> + <p> + “We are not talking of Karl, but of you; though hungry as a wolf you + are cunning as a fox, and, when it suits you, as cunning as Karl.” + And, changing on the sudden his tone and manner, Morok slapped the giant + cordially on the shoulder. + </p> + <p> + “What! am I cunning?” + </p> + <p> + “The proof is, that there are ten florins to earn to-night—and + you will be keen enough to earn them, I am sure.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, on those terms, yes—I am awake,” said the giant, + smiling with a stupid, self-satisfied air. “What must I do for ten + florins?” + </p> + <p> + “You shall see.” + </p> + <p> + “Is it hard work?” + </p> + <p> + “You shall see. Begin by going to the burgomaster’s—but + first light the fire in that stove.” He pointed to it with his + finger. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, master,” said Goliath, somewhat consoled for the delay + of his supper by the hope of gaining ten florins. + </p> + <p> + “Put that iron bar in the stove,” added the Prophet, “to + make it red-hot.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, master.” + </p> + <p> + “You will leave it there; go to the burgomaster’s, and return + here to wait for me.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, master. + </p> + <p> + “You will keep the fire up in the stove.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, master.” + </p> + <p> + Morok took a step away, but recollecting himself, he resumed: “You + say the old man is busy washing under the porch?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, master.” + </p> + <p> + “Forget nothing: the iron bar in the fire—the burgomaster—and + return here to wait my orders.” So saying, Morok descended by the + trap-door and disappeared. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0004" id="link2HCH0004"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER IV. MOROK and DAGOBERT + </h2> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">G</span>oliath had not + been mistaken, for Dagobert was washing with that imperturbable gravity + with which he did everything else. + </p> + <p> + When we remember the habits of a soldier a-field, we need not be + astonished at this apparent eccentricity. Dagobert only thought of sparing + the scanty purse of the orphans, and of saving them all care and trouble; + so every evening when they came to a halt he devoted himself to all sorts + of feminine occupations. But he was not now serving his apprenticeship in + these matters; many times, during his campaigns, he had industriously + repaired the damage and disorder which a day of battle always brings to + the garments of the soldier; for it is not enough to receive a sabre-cut—the + soldier has also to mend his uniform; for the stroke which grazes the skin + makes likewise a corresponding fissure in the cloth. + </p> + <p> + Therefore, in the evening or on the morrow of a hard-fought engagement, + you will see the best soldiers (always distinguished by their fine + military appearance) take from their cartridge-box or knapsack a + housewife, furnished with needles, thread, scissors, buttons, and other + such gear, and apply themselves to all kinds of mending and darning, with + a zeal that the most industrious workwoman might envy. + </p> + <p> + We could not find a better opportunity to explain the name of Dagobert, + given to Francis Baudoin (the guide of the orphans) at a time when he was + considered one of the handsomest and bravest horse-grenadiers of the + Imperial Guard. + </p> + <p> + They had been fighting hard all day, without any decisive advantage. In + the evening, the company to which our hero belonged was sent as outliers + to occupy the ruins of a deserted village. Videttes being posted, half the + troopers remained in saddle, whilst the others, having picketed their + horses, were able to take a little rest. Our hero had charged valiantly + that day without receiving any wound—for he counted as a mere + memento the deep scratch on his thigh, which a kaiserlitz had inflicted in + awkwardly attempting an upward thrust with the bayonet. + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:65%;"> + <img src="images/10049m.jpg" alt="10049m " width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/10049.jpg"><i>Original</i></a> + </h5> + <p> + “You donkey! my new breeches!” the grenadier had exclaimed, + when he saw the wide yawning rent, which he instantly avenged by running + the Austrian through, with a thrust scientifically administered. For, if + he showed a stoical indifference on the subject of injury to his skin, it + was not so with regard to the ripping up of his best parade uniform. + </p> + <p> + He undertook, therefore, the same evening, at the bivouac, to repair this + accident. Selecting his best needle and thread from the stores of his + housewife, and arming his finger with a thimble, he began to play the + tailor by the light of the watch-fire, having first drawn off his + cavalry-boots, and also (if it must be confessed) the injured garment + itself, which he turned the wrong side out the better to conceal the + stitches. + </p> + <p> + This partial undress was certainly a breach of discipline: but the + captain, as he went his round, could not forbear laughing at the sight of + the veteran soldier, who, gravely seated, in a squatting position, with + his grenadier cap on, his regimental coat on his back, his boots by his + side, and his galligaskins in his lap, was sewing with all the coolness of + a tailor upon his own shop-board. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly, a musket-shot is heard, and the videttes fall back upon the + detachment, calling to arms. “To horse!” cries the captain, in + a voice of thunder. + </p> + <p> + In a moment, the troopers are in their saddles, the unfortunate clothes + mender having to lead the first rank; there is no time to turn the unlucky + garment, so he slips it on, as well as he can, wrong side out, and leaps + upon his horse, without even stopping to put on his boots. + </p> + <p> + A party of Cossacks, profiting by the cover of a neighboring wood, had + attempted to surprise the detachment: the fight was bloody, and our hero + foamed with rage, for he set much value on his equipments, and the day had + been fatal to him. Thinking of his torn clothes and lost boots, he hacked + away with more fury than ever; a bright moon illumined the scene of + action, and his comrades were able to appreciate the brilliant valor of + our grenadier, who killed two Cossacks, and took an officer prisoner, with + his own hand. + </p> + <p> + After this skirmish, in which the detachment had maintained its position, + the captain drew up his men to compliment them on their success, and + ordered the clothes-mender to advance from the ranks, that he might thank + him publicly for his gallant behavior. Our hero could have dispensed with + this ovation, but he was not the less obliged to obey. + </p> + <p> + Judge of the surprise of both captain and troopers, when they saw this + tall and stern-looking figure ride forward at a slow pace, with his naked + feet in the stirrups, and naked legs pressing the sides of his charger. + </p> + <p> + The captain drew near in astonishment; but recalling the occupation of the + soldier at the moment when the alarm was given, he understood the whole + mystery. “Ha, my old comrade!” he exclaimed, “thou art + like King Dagobert—wearing thy breeches inside out.” + </p> + <p> + In spite of discipline, this joke of the captain’s was received with + peals of ill-repressed laughter. But our friend, sitting upright in his + saddle, with his left thumb pressing the well adjusted reins, and his + sword-hilt carried close to his right thigh, made a half-wheel, and + returned to his place in the ranks without changing countenance, after he + had duly received the congratulations of his captain. From that day, + Francis Baudoin received and kept the nickname of Dagobert. + </p> + <p> + Now Dagobert was under the porch of the inn, occupied in washing, to the + great amazement of sundry beer-drinkers, who observed him with curious + eyes from the large common room in which they were assembled. + </p> + <p> + In truth, it was a curious spectacle. Dagobert had laid aside his gray + top-coat, and rolled up the sleeves of his shirt; with a vigorous hand, + and good supply of soap, he was rubbing away at a wet handkerchief, spread + out on the board, the end of which rested in a tub full of water. Upon his + right arm, tattooed with warlike emblems in red and blue colors, two + scars, deep enough to admit the finger, were distinctly visible. No wonder + then, that, while smoking their pipes, and emptying their pots of beer, + the Germans should display some surprise at the singular occupation of + this tall, moustached, bald-headed old man, with the forbidding + countenance—for the features of Dagobert assumed a harsh and grim + expression, when he was no longer in presence of the two girls. + </p> + <p> + The sustained attention, of which he saw himself the object, began to put + him out of patience, for his employment appeared to him quite natural. At + this moment, the Prophet entered the porch, and, perceiving the soldier, + eyed him attentively for several seconds; then approaching, he said to him + in French, in a rather sly tone: “It would seem, comrade, that you + have not much confidence in the washerwomen of Mockern?” + </p> + <p> + Dagobert, without discontinuing his work, half turned his head with a + frown, looked askant at the Prophet, and made him no answer. + </p> + <p> + Astonished at this silence, Morok resumed: “If I do not deceive + myself, you are French, my fine fellow. The words on your arm prove it, + and your military air stamps you as an old soldier of the Empire. + Therefore I find, that, for a hero, you have taken rather late to wear + petticoats.” + </p> + <p> + Dagobert remained mute, but he gnawed his moustache, and plied the soap, + with which he was rubbing the linen, in a most hurried, not to say angry + style; for the face and words of the beast-tamer displeased him more than + he cared to show. Far from being discouraged, the Prophet continued: + “I am sure, my fine fellow, that you are neither deaf nor dumb; why, + then, will you not answer me?” + </p> + <p> + Losing all patience, Dagobert turned abruptly round, looked Morok full in + the face, and said to him in a rough voice: “I don’t know you: + I don’t wish to know you! Chain up your curb!” And he betook + himself again to his washing. + </p> + <p> + “But we may make acquaintance. We can drink a glass of Rhine-wine + together, and talk of our campaigns. I also have seen some service, I + assure you; and that, perhaps, will induce you to be more civil.” + </p> + <p> + The veins on the bald forehead of Dagobert swelled perceptibly; he saw in + the look and accent of the man, who thus obstinately addressed him, + something designedly provoking; still he contained himself. + </p> + <p> + “I ask you, why should you not drink a glass of wine with me—we + could talk about France. I lived there a long time; it is a fine country; + and when I meet Frenchmen abroad, I feel sociable—particularly when + they know how to use the soap as well as you do. If I had a housewife I’d + send her to your school.” + </p> + <p> + The sarcastic meaning was no longer disguised; impudence and bravado were + legible in the Prophet’s looks. Thinking that, with such an + adversary, the dispute might become serious, Dagobert, who wished to avoid + a quarrel at any price, carried off his tub to the other end of the porch, + hoping thus to put an end to the scene which was a sore trial of his + temper. A flash of joy lighted up the tawny eyes of the brute-tamer. The + white circle, which surrounded the pupil seemed to dilate. He ran his + crooked fingers two or three times through his yellow beard, in token of + satisfaction; then he advanced slowly towards the soldier, accompanied by + several idlers from the common-room. + </p> + <p> + Notwithstanding his coolness, Dagobert, amazed and incensed at the + impudent pertinacity of the Prophet, was at first disposed to break the + washing-board on his head; but, remembering the orphans, he thought better + of it. + </p> + <p> + Folding his arms upon his breast, Morok said to him, in a dry and insolent + tone: “It is very certain you are not civil, my man of suds!” + Then, turning to the spectators, he continued in German: “I tell + this Frenchman, with his long moustache, that he is not civil. We shall + see what answer he’ll make. Perhaps it will be necessary to give him + a lesson. Heaven preserve me from quarrels!” he added, with mock + compunction; “but the Lord has enlightened me—I am his + creature, and I ought to make his work respected.” + </p> + <p> + The mystical effrontery of this peroration was quite to the taste of the + idlers; the fame of the Prophet had reached Mockern, and, as a performance + was expected on the morrow, this prelude much amused the company. On + hearing the insults of his adversary, Dagobert could not help saying in + the German language: “I know German. Speak in German—the rest + will understand you.” + </p> + <p> + New spectators now arrived, and joined the first comers; the adventure had + become exciting, and a ring was formed around the two persons most + concerned. + </p> + <p> + The Prophet resumed in German: “I said that you were not civil, and + I now say you are grossly rude. What do you answer to that?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing!” said Dagobert, coldly, as he proceeded to rinse out + another piece of linen. + </p> + <p> + “Nothing!” returned Morok; “that is very little. I will + be less brief, and tell you, that, when an honest man offers a glass of + wine civilly to a stranger, that stranger has no right to answer with + insolence, and deserves to be taught manners if he does so.” + </p> + <p> + Great drops of sweat ran down Dagobert’s forehead and cheeks; his + large imperial was incessantly agitated by nervous trembling—but he + restrained himself. Taking, by two of the corners, the handkerchief which + he had just dipped in the water, he shook it, wrung it, and began to hum + to himself the burden of the old camp ditty: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Out of Tirlemont’s flea-haunted den, + We ride forth next day of the sen, + With sabre in hand, ah! + Good-bye to Amanda,” etc. +</pre> + <p> + The silence to which Dagobert had condemned himself, almost choked him; + this song afforded him some relief. + </p> + <p> + Morok, turning towards the spectators, said to them, with an air of + hypocritical restraint: “We knew that the soldiers of Napoleon were + pagans, who stabled their horses in churches, and offended the Lord a + hundred times a day, and who, for their sins, were justly drowned in the + Beresino, like so many Pharaohs; but we did not know that the Lord, to + punish these miscreants, had deprived them of courage—their single + gift. Here is a man, who has insulted, in me, a creature favored by divine + grace, and who affects not to understand that I require an apology; or + else—” + </p> + <p> + “What?” said Dagobert, without looking at the Prophet. + </p> + <p> + “Or you must give me satisfaction!—I have already told you + that I have seen service. We shall easily find somewhere a couple of + swords, and to morrow morning, at peep of day, we can meet behind a wall, + and show the color of our blood—that is, if you have any in your + veins!” + </p> + <p> + This challenge began to frighten the spectators, who were not prepared for + so tragical a conclusion. + </p> + <p> + “What, fight?—a very, fine idea!” said one. “To + get yourself both locked up in prison: the laws against duelling are + strict.” + </p> + <p> + “Particularly with relation to strangers or nondescripts,” + added another. “If they were to find you with arms in your hands, + the burgomaster would shut you up in jail, and keep you there two or three + months before trial.” + </p> + <p> + “Would you be so mean as to denounce us?” asked Morok. + </p> + <p> + “No, certainly not,” cried several; “do as you like. We + are only giving you a friendly piece of advice, by which you may profit, + if you think fit.” + </p> + <p> + “What care I for prison?” exclaimed the Prophet. “Only + give me a couple of swords, and you shall see to-morrow morning if I heed + what the burgomaster can do or say.” + </p> + <p> + “What would you do with two swords?” asked Dagobert, quietly. + </p> + <p> + “When you have one in your grasp, and I one in mine, you’d + see. The Lord commands us to have a care of his honor!” + </p> + <p> + Dagobert shrugged his shoulders, made a bundle of his linen in his + handkerchief, dried his soap, and put it carefully into a little oil-silk + bag—then, whistling his favorite air of Tirlemont, moved to depart. + </p> + <p> + The Prophet frowned; he began to fear that his challenge would not be + accepted. He advanced a step or so to encounter Dagobert, placed himself + before him, as if to intercept his passage, and, folding his arms, and + scanning him from head to foot with bitter insolence, said to him: “So! + an old soldier of that arch-robber, Napoleon, is only fit for a + washerwoman, and refuses to fight!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, he refuses to fight,” answered Dagobert, in a firm + voice, but becoming fearfully pale. Never, perhaps, had the soldier given + to his orphan charge such a proof of tenderness and devotion. For a man of + his character to let himself be insulted with impunity, and refuse to + fight—the sacrifice was immense. + </p> + <p> + “So you are a coward—you are afraid of me—and you + confess it?” + </p> + <p> + At these words Dagobert made, as it were, a pull upon himself—as if + a sudden thought had restrained him the moment he was about to rush on the + Prophet. Indeed, he had remembered the two maidens, and the fatal + hindrance which a duel, whatever might be the result, would occasion to + their journey. But the impulse of anger, though rapid, had been so + significant—the expression of the stern, pale face, bathed in sweat, + was so daunting, that the Prophet and the spectators drew back a step. + </p> + <p> + Profound silence reigned for some seconds, and then, by a sudden reaction, + Dagobert seemed to have gained the general interest. One of the company + said to those near him; “This man is clearly not a coward.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no! certainly not.” + </p> + <p> + “It sometimes requires more courage to refuse a challenge than to + accept one.” + </p> + <p> + “After all the Prophet was wrong to pick a quarrel about nothing—and + with a stranger, too.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, for a stranger, if he fought and was taken up, would have a + good long imprisonment.” + </p> + <p> + “And then, you see,” added another, “he travels with two + young girls. In such a position, ought a man to fight about trifles? If he + should be killed or put in prison, what would become of them, poor + children?” + </p> + <p> + Dagobert turned towards the person who had pronounced these last words. He + saw a stout fellow, with a frank and simple countenance; the soldier + offered him his hand, and said with emotion: + </p> + <p> + “Thank you, sir.” + </p> + <p> + The German shook cordially the hand, which Dagobert had proffered, and, + holding it still in his own, he added: “Do one thing, sir—share + a bowl of punch with us. We will make that mischief-making Prophet + acknowledge that he has been too touchy, and he shall drink to your + health.” + </p> + <p> + Up to this moment the brute-tamer, enraged at the issue of this scene, for + he had hoped that the soldier would accept his challenge, looked on with + savage contempt at those who had thus sided against him. But now his + features gradually relaxed; and, believing it useful to his projects to + hide his disappointment, he walked up to the soldier, and said to him, + with a tolerably good grace: “Well, I give way to these gentlemen. I + own I was wrong. Your frigid air had wounded me, and I was not master of + myself. I repeat, that I was wrong,” he added, with suppressed + vexation; “the Lord commands humility—and—I beg your + pardon.” + </p> + <p> + This proof of moderation and regret was highly appreciated and loudly + applauded by the spectators. “He asks your pardon; you cannot expect + more, my brave fellow?” said one of them, addressing Dagobert. + “Come, let us all drink together; we make you this offer frankly—accept + it in the same spirit.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes; accept it, we beg you, in the name of your pretty little + girls,” said the stout man, hoping to decide Dagobert by this + argument. + </p> + <p> + “Many thanks, gentlemen,” replied he, touched by the hearty + advances of the Germans; “you are very worthy people. But, when one + is treated, he must offer drink in return.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, we will accept it—that’s understood. Each his + turn, and all fair. We will pay for the first bowl, you for the second.” + </p> + <p> + “Poverty is no crime,” answered Dagobert; “and I must + tell you honestly that I cannot afford to pay for drink. We have still a + long journey to go, and I must not incur any useless expenses.” + </p> + <p> + The soldier spoke these words with such firm, but simple dignity, that the + Germans did not venture to renew their offer, feeling that a man of + Dagobert’s character could not accept it without humiliation. + </p> + <p> + “Well, so much the worse,” said the stout man. “I should + have liked to clink glasses with you. Good-night, my brave trooper!—Good-night—for + it grows late, and mine host of the Falcon will soon turn us out of doors.” + </p> + <p> + “Good-night, gentlemen,” replied Dagobert, as he directed his + steps towards the stable, to give his horse a second allowance of + provender. + </p> + <p> + Morok approached him, and said in a voice even more humble than before: + “I have acknowledged my error, and asked your pardon. You have not + answered me; do you still bear malice?” + </p> + <p> + “If ever I meet you,” said the veteran, in a suppressed and + hollow tone, “when my children have no longer need of me, I will + just say two words to you, and they will not be long ones.” + </p> + <p> + Then he turned his back abruptly on the Prophet, who walked slowly out of + the yard. + </p> + <p> + The inn of the White Falcon formed a parallelogram. At one end rose the + principal dwelling; at the other was a range of buildings, which contained + sundry chambers, let at a low price to the poorer sort of travellers; a + vaulted passage opened a way through this latter into the country; + finally, on either side of the court-yard were sheds and stables, with + lofts and garrets erected over them. + </p> + <p> + Dagobert, entering one of these stables, took from off a chest the portion + of oats destined for his horse, and, pouring it into a winnowing basket, + shook it as he approached Jovial. + </p> + <p> + To his great astonishment, his old travelling companion did not respond + with a joyous neigh to the rustle of the oats rattling on the wicker work. + Alarmed, he called Jovial with a friendly voice; but the animal, instead + of turning towards his master a look of intelligence, and impatiently + striking the ground with his fore-feet, remained perfectly motionless. + </p> + <p> + More and more surprised, the soldier went up to him. By the dubious light + of a stable-lantern, he saw the poor animal in an attitude which implied + terror—his legs half bent, his head stretched forward, his ears + down, his nostrils quivering; he had drawn tight his halter, as if he + wished to break it, in order to get away from the partition that supported + his rack and manger; abundant cold-sweat had speckled his hide with bluish + stains, and his coat altogether looked dull and bristling, instead of + standing out sleek and glossy from the dark background of the stable; + lastly, from time to time, his body shook with convulsive starts. + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:65%;"> + <img src="images/10057m.jpg" alt="10057m " width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/10057.jpg"><i>Original</i></a> + </h5> + <p> + “Why, old Jovial!” said the soldier, as he put down the + basket, in order to soothe his horse with more freedom, “you are + like thy master—afraid!—Yes,” he added with bitterness, + as he thought of the offence he had himself endured, “you are afraid—though + no coward in general.” + </p> + <p> + Notwithstanding the caresses and the voice of his master, the horse + continued to give signs of terror; he pulled somewhat less violently at + his halter, and approaching his nostrils to the hand of Dagobert, sniffed + audibly, as if he doubted it were he. + </p> + <p> + “You don’t know me!” cried Dagobert. “Something + extraordinary must be passing here.” + </p> + <p> + The soldier looked around him with uneasiness. It was a large stable, + faintly lighted by the lantern suspended from the roof, which was covered + with innumerable cobwebs; at the further end, separated from Jovial by + some stalls with bars between, were the three strong, black, horses of the + brute-tamer—as tranquil as Jovial was frightened. + </p> + <p> + Dagobert, struck with this singular contrast, of which he was soon to have + the explanation, again caressed his horse; and the animal, gradually + reassured by his master’s presence, licked his hands, rubbed his + head against him, uttered a low neigh, and gave him his usual tokens of + affection. + </p> + <p> + “Come, come, this is how I like to see my old Jovial!” said + Dagobert, as he took up the winnowing-basket, and poured its contents into + the manger. “Now eat with a good appetite, for we have a long day’s + march tomorrow; and, above all, no more of these foolish fears about + nothing! If thy comrade, Spoil-sport, was here, he would keep you in + heart; but he is along with the children, and takes care of them in my + absence. Come, eat! Instead of staring at me in that way.” + </p> + <p> + But the horse, having just touched the oats with his mouth, as if in + obedience to his master, returned to them no more, and began to nibble at + the sleeve of Dagobert’s coat. + </p> + <p> + “Come, come, my poor Jovial! there is something the matter with you. + You have generally such a good appetite, and now you leave your corn. + ‘Tis the first time this has happened since our departure,” + said the soldier, who was now growing seriously uneasy, for the issue of + his journey greatly depended on the health and vigor of his horse. + </p> + <p> + Just then a frightful roaring, so near that it seemed to come from the + stable in which they were, gave so violent a shock to Jovial, that with + one effort he broke his halter, leaped over the bar that marked his place, + and rushing at the open door, escaped into the court-yard. + </p> + <p> + Dagobert had himself started at the suddenness of this wild and fearful + sound, which at once explained to him the cause of his horse’s + terror. The adjoining stable was occupied by the itinerant menagerie of + the brute-tamer, and was only separated by the partition, which supported + the mangers. The three horses of the Prophet, accustomed to these + howlings, had remained perfectly quiet. + </p> + <p> + “Good!” said the soldier, recovering himself; “I + understand it now. Jovial has heard another such roar before, and he can + scent the animals of that insolent scoundrel. It is enough to frighten + him,” added he, as he carefully collected the oats from the manger; + “once in another stable, and there must be others in this place, he + will no longer leave his peck, and we shall be able to start early + to-morrow morning!” + </p> + <p> + The terrified horse, after running and galloping about the yard, returned + at the voice of the soldier, who easily caught him by the broken halter; + and a hostler, whom Dagobert asked if there was another vacant stable, + having pointed out one that was only intended for a single animal, Jovial + was comfortably installed there. + </p> + <p> + When delivered from his ferocious neighbors, the horse became tranquil as + before, and even amused himself much at the expense of Dagobert’s + top coat, which, thanks to his tricks, might have afforded immediate + occupation for his master’s needle, if the latter had not been fully + engaged in admiring the eagerness with which Jovial dispatched his + provender. Completely reassured on his account, the soldier shut the door + of the stable, and proceeded to get his supper as quickly as possible, in + order to rejoin the orphans, whom he reproached himself with having left + so long. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0005" id="link2HCH0005"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER V. ROSE AND BLANCHE. + </h2> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>he orphans + occupied a dilapidated chamber in one of the most remote wings of the inn, + with a single window opening upon the country. A bed without curtains, a + table, and two chairs, composed the more than modest furniture of this + retreat, which was now lighted by a lamp. On the table, which stood near + the window, was deposited the knapsack of the soldier. + </p> + <p> + The great Siberian dog, who was lying close to the door, had already twice + uttered a deep growl, and turned his head towards the window—but + without giving any further affect to this hostile manifestation. + </p> + <p> + The two sisters, half recumbent in their bed, were clad in long white + wrappers, buttoned at the neck and wrists. They wore no caps, but their + beautiful chestnut hair was confined at the temples by a broad piece of + tape, so that it might not get tangled during the night. These white + garments, and the white fillet that like a halo encircled their brows, + gave to their fresh and blooming faces a still more candid expression. + </p> + <p> + The orphans laughed and chatted, for, in spite of some early sorrows, they + still retained the ingenuous gayety of their age. The remembrance of their + mother would sometimes make them sad, but this sorrow had in it nothing + bitter; it was rather a sweet melancholy, to be sought instead of shunned. + For them, this adored mother was not dead—she was only absent. + </p> + <p> + Almost as ignorant as Dagobert, with regard to devotional exercises, for + in the desert where they had lived there was neither church nor priest, + their faith, as was already said, consisted in this—that God, just + and good, had so much pity for the poor mothers whose children were left + on earth, that he allowed them to look down upon them from highest heaven—to + see them always, to hear them always, and sometimes to send fair guardian + angels to protect therein. Thanks to this guileless illusion, the orphans, + persuaded that their mother incessantly watched over them, felt, that to + do wrong would be to afflict her, and to forfeit the protection of the + good angels.—This was the entire theology of Rose and Blanche—a + creed sufficient for such pure and loving souls. + </p> + <p> + Now, on the evening in question, the two sisters chatted together whilst + waiting for Dagobert. Their theme interested them much, for, since some + days, they had a secret, a great secret, which often quickened the + beatings of their innocent hearts, often agitated their budding bosoms, + changed to bright scarlet the roses on their cheeks, and infused a + restless and dreamy langour into the soft blue of their large eyes. + </p> + <p> + Rose, this evening, occupied the edge of the couch, with her rounded arms + crossed behind her head, which was half turned towards her sister; + Blanche, with her elbow resting on the bolster, looked at her smilingly, + and said: “Do you think he will come again to-night?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes! certainly. He promised us yesterday.” + </p> + <p> + “He is so good, he would not break his promise.” + </p> + <p> + “And so handsome, with his long fair curls.” + </p> + <p> + “And his name—what a charming name!—How well it suits + his face.” + </p> + <p> + “And what a sweet smile and soft voice, when he says to us, taking + us by the hand: ‘My children, bless God that he has given you one + soul. What others seek elsewhere, you will find in yourselves.’” + </p> + <p> + “‘Since your two hearts,’ he added, ‘only make + one.’” + </p> + <p> + “What pleasure to remember his words, sister!” + </p> + <p> + “We are so attentive! When I see you listening to him, it is as if I + saw myself, my dear little mirror!” said Rose, laughing, and kissing + her sister’s forehead. “Well—when he speaks, your—or + rather our eyes—are wide, wide open, our lips moving as if we + repeated every word after him. It is no wonder we forget nothing that he + says.” + </p> + <p> + “And what he says is so grand, so noble, and generous.” + </p> + <p> + “Then, my sister, as he goes on talking, what good thoughts rise + within us! If we could but always keep them in mind.” + </p> + <p> + “Do not be afraid! they will remain in our hearts, like little birds + in their mother’s nests.” + </p> + <p> + “And how lucky it is, Rose, that he loves us both at the same time!” + </p> + <p> + “He could not do otherwise, since we have but one heart between us.” + </p> + <p> + “How could he love Rose, without loving Blanche?” + </p> + <p> + “What would have become of the poor, neglected one?” + </p> + <p> + “And then again he would have found it so difficult to choose.” + </p> + <p> + “We are so much like one another.” + </p> + <p> + “So, to save himself that trouble,” said Rose, laughing, + “he has chosen us both.” + </p> + <p> + “And is it not the best way? He is alone to love us; we are two + together to think of him.” + </p> + <p> + “Only he must not leave us till we reach Paris.” + </p> + <p> + “And in Paris, too—we must see him there also.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, above all at Paris; it will be good to have him with us—and + Dagobert, too—in that great city. Only think, Blanche, how beautiful + it must be.” + </p> + <p> + “Paris!—it must be like a city all of gold.” + </p> + <p> + “A city, where every one must be happy, since it is so beautiful.” + </p> + <p> + “But ought we, poor orphans, dare so much as to enter it? How people + will look at us!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes—but every one there is happy, every one must be good + also.” + </p> + <p> + “They will love us.” + </p> + <p> + “And, besides, we shall be with our friend with the fair hair and + blue eyes.” + </p> + <p> + “He has yet told us nothing of Paris.” + </p> + <p> + “He has not thought of it; we must speak to him about it this very + night.” + </p> + <p> + “If he is in the mood for talking. Often you know, he likes best to + gaze on us in silence—his eyes on our eyes.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. In those moments, his look recalls to me the gaze of our dear + mother.” + </p> + <p> + “And, as she sees it all, how pleased she must be at what has + happened to us!” + </p> + <p> + “Because, when we are so much beloved, we must, I hope, deserve it.” + </p> + <p> + “See what a vain thing it is!” said Blanche, smoothing with + her slender fingers the parting of the hair on her sister’s + forehead. + </p> + <p> + After a moment’s reflection, Rose said to her: “Don’t + you think we should relate all this to Dagobert?” + </p> + <p> + “If you think so, let us do it.” + </p> + <p> + “We tell him everything, as we told everything to mother. Why should + we conceal this from him?” + </p> + <p> + “Especially as it is something which gives us so much pleasure.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you not find that, since we have known our friend, our hearts + beat quicker and stronger?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, they seem to be more full.” + </p> + <p> + “The reason why is plain enough; our friend fills up a good space in + them.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, we will do best to tell Dagobert what a lucky star ours is.” + </p> + <p> + “You are right—” At this moment the dog gave another + deep growl. + </p> + <p> + “Sister,” said Rose, as she pressed closer to Blanche, “there + is the dog growling again. What can be the matter with him?” + </p> + <p> + “Spoil-sport, do not growl! Come hither,” said Blanche, + striking with her little hand on the side of the bed. + </p> + <p> + The dog rose, again growled deeply, and came to lay his great, intelligent + looking head on the counterpane, still obstinately casting a sidelong + glance at the window; the sisters bent over him to pat his broad forehead, + in the centre of which was a remarkable bump, the certain sign of extreme + purity of race. + </p> + <p> + “What makes you growl so, Spoil-sport?” said Blanche, pulling + him gently by the ears—“eh, my good dog?” + </p> + <p> + “Poor beast! he is always so uneasy when Dagobert is away.” + </p> + <p> + “It is true; one would think he knows that he then has a double + charge over us.” + </p> + <p> + “Sister, it seems to me, Dagobert is late in coming to say + good-night.” + </p> + <p> + “No doubt he is attending to Jovial.” + </p> + <p> + “That makes me think that we did not bid good-night to dear old + Jovial. + </p> + <p> + “I am sorry for it.” + </p> + <p> + “Poor beast! he seems so glad when he licks our hands. One would + think that he thanked us for our visit.” + </p> + <p> + “Luckily, Dagobert will have wished him good-night for us.” + </p> + <p> + “Good Dagobert! he is always thinking of us. How he spoils us! We + remain idle, and he has all the trouble.” + </p> + <p> + “How can we prevent it?” + </p> + <p> + “What a pity that we are not rich, to give him a little rest.” + </p> + <p> + “We rich! Alas, my sister! we shall never be anything but poor + orphans.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, there’s the medal!” + </p> + <p> + “Doubtless, there is some hope attached to it, else we should not + have made this long journey.” + </p> + <p> + “Dagobert has promised to tell us all, this evening.” + </p> + <p> + She was prevented from continuing, for two of the windowpanes flew to + pieces with a loud crash. + </p> + <p> + The orphans, with a cry of terror, threw themselves into each other’s + arms, whilst the dog rushed towards the window, barking furiously. + </p> + <p> + Pale, trembling, motionless with affright, clasping each other in a close + embrace, the two sisters held their breath; in their extreme fear, they + durst not even cast their eyes in the direction of the window. The dog, + with his forepaws resting on the sill, continued to bark with violence. + </p> + <p> + “Alas! what can it be?” murmured the orphans. “And + Dagobert not here!” + </p> + <p> + “Hark!” cried Rose, suddenly seizing Blanche by the arm; + “hark!—some one coming up the stairs!” + </p> + <p> + “Good heaven! it does not sound like the tread of Dagobert. Do you + not hear what heavy footsteps?” + </p> + <p> + “Quick! come, Spoil-sport, and defend us!” cried the two + sisters at once, in an agony of alarm. + </p> + <p> + The boards of the wooden staircase really creaked beneath the weight of + unusually heavy footsteps, and a singular kind of rustling was heard along + the thin partition that divided the chamber from the landing-place. Then a + ponderous mass, falling against the door of the room, shook it violently; + and the girls, at the very height of terror, looked at each other without + the power of speech. + </p> + <p> + The door opened. It was Dagobert. + </p> + <p> + At the sight of him Rose and Blanche joyfully exchanged a kiss, as if they + had just escaped from a great danger. + </p> + <p> + “What is the matter? why are you afraid?” asked the soldier in + surprise. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, if you only knew!” said Rose, panting as she spoke, for + both her own heart and her sister’s beat with violence. + </p> + <p> + “If you knew what has just happened! We did not recognize your + footsteps—they seemed so heavy—and then that noise behind the + partition!” + </p> + <p> + “Little frightened doves that you are! I could not run up the stairs + like a boy of fifteen, seeing that I carried my bed upon my back—a + straw mattress that I have just flung down before your door, to sleep + there as usual.” + </p> + <p> + “Bless me! how foolish we must be, sister, not to have thought of + that!” said Rose, looking at Blanche. And their pretty faces, which + had together grown pale, together resumed their natural color. + </p> + <p> + During this scene the dog, still resting against the window, did not cease + barking a moment. + </p> + <p> + “What makes Spoil-sport bark in that direction, my children?” + said the soldier. + </p> + <p> + “We do not know. Two of our windowpanes have just been broken. That + is what first frightened us so much.” + </p> + <p> + Without answering a word Dagobert flew to the window, opened it quickly, + pushed back the shutter, and leaned out. + </p> + <p> + He saw nothing; it was a dark night. He listened; but heard only the + moaning of the wind. + </p> + <p> + “Spoil-sport,” said he to his dog, pointing to the open + window, “leap out, old fellow, and search!” The faithful + animal took one mighty spring and disappeared by the window, raised only + about eight feet above the ground. + </p> + <p> + Dagobert, still leaning over, encouraged his dog with voice and gesture: + “Search, old fellow, search! If there is any one there, pin him—your + fangs are strong—and hold him fast till I come.” + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:65%;"> + <img src="images/10065m.jpg" alt="10065m " width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/10065.jpg"><i>Original</i></a> + </h5> + <p> + But Spoil-sport found no one. They heard him go backwards and forwards, + snuffing on every side, and now and then uttering a low cry like a hound + at fault. + </p> + <p> + “There is no one, my good dog, that’s clear, or you would have + had him by the throat ere this.” Then, turning to the maidens, who + listened to his words and watched his movements with uneasiness: “My + girls,” said he, “how were these panes broken? Did you not + remark?” + </p> + <p> + “No, Dagobert; we were talking together when we heard a great crash, + and then the glass fell into the room.” + </p> + <p> + “It seemed to me,” added Rose, “as if a shutter had + struck suddenly against the window.” + </p> + <p> + Dagobert examined the shutter, and observed a long movable hook, designed + to fasten it on the inside. + </p> + <p> + “It blows hard,” said he; “the wind must have swung + round the shutter, and this hook broke the window. Yes, yes; that is it. + What interest could anybody have to play such a sorry trick?” Then, + speaking to Spoil sport, he asked, “Well, my good fellow, is there + no one?” + </p> + <p> + The dog answered by a bark, which the soldier no doubt understood as a + negative, for he continued: “Well, then, come back! Make the round—you + will find some door open—you are never at a loss.” + </p> + <p> + The animal followed this advice. After growling for a few seconds beneath + the window, he set off at a gallop to make the circuit of the buildings, + and come back by the court-yard. + </p> + <p> + “Be quite easy, my children!” said the soldier, as he again + drew near the orphans; “it was only the wind.” + </p> + <p> + “We were a good deal frightened,” said Rose. + </p> + <p> + “I believe you. But now I think of it, this draught is likely to + give you cold.” And seeking to remedy this inconvenience, he took + from a chair the reindeer pelisse, and suspended it from the spring-catch + of the curtainless window, using the skirts to stop up as closely as + possible the two openings made by the breaking of the panes. + </p> + <p> + “Thanks, Dagobert, how good you are! We were very uneasy at not + seeing you.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, you were absent longer than usual. But what is the matter with + you?” added Rose, only just then perceiving that his countenance was + disturbed and pallid, for he was still under the painful influence of the + brawl with Morok; “how pale you are!” + </p> + <p> + “Me, my pets?—Oh, nothing.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I assure you, your countenance is quite changed. Rose is + right.” + </p> + <p> + “I tell you there is nothing the matter,” answered the + soldier, not without some embarrassment, for he was little used to + deceive; till, finding an excellent excuse for his emotion, he added: + “If I do look at all uncomfortable, it is your fright that has made + me so, for indeed it was my fault.” + </p> + <p> + “Your fault!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; for if I had not lost so much time at supper, I should have + been here when the window was broken, and have spared you the fright.” + </p> + <p> + “Anyhow, you are here now, and we think no more of it.” + </p> + <p> + “Why don’t you sit down?” + </p> + <p> + “I will, my children, for we have to talk together,” said + Dagobert, as he drew a chair close to the head of the bed. + </p> + <p> + “Now tell me, are you quite awake?” he added, trying to smile + in order to reassure them. “Are those large eyes properly open?” + </p> + <p> + “Look, Dagobert!” cried the two girls, smiling in their turn, + and opening their blue eyes to the utmost extent. + </p> + <p> + “Well, well,” said the soldier, “they are yet far + enough, from shutting; besides, it is only nine o’clock.” + </p> + <p> + “We also have something to tell, Dagobert,” resumed Rose, + after exchanging glances with her sister. + </p> + <p> + “Indeed!” + </p> + <p> + “A secret to tell you.” + </p> + <p> + “A secret?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, to be sure.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, and a very great secret!” added Rose, quite seriously. + </p> + <p> + “A secret which concerns us both,” resumed Blanche. + </p> + <p> + “Faith! I should think so. What concerns the one always concerns the + other. Are you not always, as the saying goes, ‘two faces under one + hood?’” + </p> + <p> + “Truly, how can it be otherwise, when you put our heads under the + great hood of your pelisse?” said Rose, laughing. + </p> + <p> + “There they are again, mocking-birds! One never has the last word + with them. Come, ladies, your secret, since a secret there is.” + </p> + <p> + “Speak, sister,” said Rose. + </p> + <p> + “No, miss, it is for you to speak. You are to-day on duty, as + eldest, and such an important thing as telling a secret like that you talk + of belongs of right to the elder sister. Come, I am listening to you,” + added the soldier, as he forced a smile, the better to conceal from the + maidens how much he still felt the unpunished affronts of the brute tamer. + </p> + <p> + It was Rose (who, as Dagobert said, was doing duty as eldest) that spoke + for herself and for her sister. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0006" id="link2HCH0006"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VI. THE SECRET. + </h2> + <p> + “First of all, good Dagobert,” said Rose, in a gracefully + caressing manner, “as we are going to tell our secret—you must + promise not to scold us.” + </p> + <p> + “You will not scold your darlings, will you?” added Blanche, + in a no less coaxing voice. + </p> + <p> + “Granted!” replied Dagobert gravely; “particularly as I + should not well know how to set about it—but why should I scold you.” + </p> + <p> + “Because we ought perhaps to have told you sooner what we are going + to tell you.” + </p> + <p> + “Listen, my children,” said Dagobert sententiously, after + reflecting a moment on this case of conscience; “one of two things + must be. Either you were right, or else you were wrong, to hide this from + me. If you were right, very well; if you were wrong, it is done: so let’s + say no more about it. Go on—I am all attention.” + </p> + <p> + Completely reassured by this luminous decision, Rose resumed, while she + exchanged a smile with her sister. + </p> + <p> + “Only think, Dagobert; for two successive nights we have had a + visitor.” + </p> + <p> + “A visitor!” cried the soldier, drawing himself up suddenly in + his chair. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, a charming visitor—he is so very fair.” + </p> + <p> + “Fair—the devil!” cried Dagobert, with a start. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, fair—and with blue eyes,” added Blanche. + </p> + <p> + “Blue eyes—blue devils!” and Dagobert again bounded on + his seat. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, blue eyes—as long as that,” resumed Rose, placing + the tip of one forefinger about the middle of the other. + </p> + <p> + “Zounds! they might be as long as that,” said the veteran, + indicating the whole length of his term from the elbow, “they might + be as long as that, and it would have nothing to do with it. Fair, and + with blue eyes. Pray what may this mean, young ladies?” and Dagobert + rose from his seat with a severe and painfully unquiet look. + </p> + <p> + “There now, Dagobert, you have begun to scold us already.” + </p> + <p> + “Just at the very commencement,” added Blanche. + </p> + <p> + “Commencement!—what, is there to be a sequel? a finish?” + </p> + <p> + “A finish? we hope not,” said Rose, laughing like mad. + </p> + <p> + “All we ask is, that it should last forever,” added Blanche, + sharing in the hilarity of her sister. + </p> + <p> + Dagobert looked gravely from one to the other of the two maidens, as if + trying to guess this enigma; but when he saw their sweet, innocent faces + gracefully animated by a frank, ingenuous laugh, he reflected that they + would not be so gay if they had any serious matter for self-reproach, and + he felt pleased at seeing them so merry in the midst of their precarious + position. + </p> + <p> + “Laugh on, my children!” he said. “I like so much to see + you laugh.” + </p> + <p> + Then, thinking that was not precisely the way in which he ought to treat + the singular confession of the young girls, he added in a gruff voice: + “Yes, I like to see you laugh—but not when you receive fair + visitors with blue eyes, young ladies!—Come, acknowledge that I’m + an old fool to listen to such nonsense—you are only making game of + me.” + </p> + <p> + “Nay, what we tell you is quite true.” + </p> + <p> + “You know we never tell stories,” added Rose. + </p> + <p> + “They are right—they never fib,” said the soldier, in + renewed perplexity. + </p> + <p> + “But how the devil is such a visit possible? I sleep before your + door—Spoil-sport sleeps under your window—and all the blue + eyes and fair locks in the world must come in by one of those two ways—and, + if they had tried it, the dog and I, who have both of us quick ears, would + have received their visits after our fashion. But come, children! pray, + speak to the purpose. Explain yourselves!” + </p> + <p> + The two sisters, who saw, by the expression of Dagobert’s + countenance, that he felt really uneasy, determined no longer to trifle + with his kindness. They exchanged a glance, and Rose, taking in her little + hand the coarse, broad palm of the veteran, said to him: “Come, do + not plague yourself! We will tell you all about the visits of our friend, + Gabriel.” + </p> + <p> + “There you are again!—He has a name, then?” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly, he has a name. It is Gabriel.” + </p> + <p> + “Is it not a pretty name, Dagobert? Oh, you will see and love, as we + do, our beautiful Gabriel!” + </p> + <p> + “I’ll love your beautiful Gabriel, will I?” said the + veteran, shaking his head—“Love your beautiful Gabriel?—that’s + as it may be. I must first know—” Then, interrupting himself, + he added: “It is queer. That reminds me of something.” + </p> + <p> + “Of what, Dagobert?” + </p> + <p> + “Fifteen years ago, in the last letter that your father, on his + return from France, brought me from my wife: she told me that, poor as she + was, and with our little growing Agricola on her hands, she had taken in a + poor deserted child, with the face of a cherub, and the name of Gabriel—and + only a short time since I heard of him again.” + </p> + <p> + “And from whom, then?” + </p> + <p> + “You shall know that by and by.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, then—since you have a Gabriel of your own—there + is the more reason that you should love ours.” + </p> + <p> + “Yours! but who is yours? I am on thorns till you tell me.” + </p> + <p> + “You know, Dagobert,” resumed Rose, “that Blanche and I + are accustomed to fall asleep, holding each other by the hand.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes, I have often seen you in your cradle. I was never tired + of looking at you; it was so pretty.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, then—two nights ago, we had just fallen asleep, when we + beheld—” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, it was in a dream!” cried Dagobert. “Since you were + asleep, it was in a dream!” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly, in a dream—how else would you have it?” + </p> + <p> + “Pray let my sister go on with her tale!” + </p> + <p> + “All, well and good!” said the soldier with a sigh of + satisfaction; “well and good! To be sure, I was tranquil enough in + any case—because—but still—I like it better to be a + dream. Continue, my little Rose.” + </p> + <p> + “Once asleep, we both dreamt the same thing.” + </p> + <p> + “What! both the same?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Dagobert; for the next morning when we awoke we related our + two dreams to each other.” + </p> + <p> + “And they were exactly alike.” + </p> + <p> + “That’s odd enough, my children; and what was this dream all + about?” + </p> + <p> + “In our dream, Blanche and I were seated together, when we saw enter + a beautiful angel, with a long white robe, fair locks, blue eyes, and so + handsome and benign a countenance, that we elapsed our hands as if to pray + to him. Then he told us, in a soft voice, that he was called Gabriel; that + our mother had sent him to be our guardian angel, and that he would never + abandon us.” + </p> + <p> + “And, then,” added Blanche, “he took us each by the + hand, and, bending his fair face over us, looked at us for a long time in + silence, with so much goodness—with so much goodness, that we could + not withdraw our eyes from his.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” resumed Rose, “and his look seemed, by turns, to + attract us, or to go to our hearts. At length, to our great sorrow, + Gabriel quitted us, having told us that we should see him again the + following night.” + </p> + <p> + “And did he make his appearance?” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly. Judge with what impatience we waited the moment of + sleep, to see if our friend would return, and visit us in our slumbers.” + </p> + <p> + “Humph!” said Dagobert, scratching his forehead; “this + reminds me, young ladies, that you kept on rubbing your eyes last evening, + and pretending to be half asleep. I wager, it was all to send me away the + sooner, and to get to your dream as fast as possible.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Dagobert.” + </p> + <p> + “The reason being, you could not say to me, as you would to + Spoil-sport: Lie down, Dagobert! Well—so your friend Gabriel came + back?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, and this time he talked to us a great deal, and gave us, in + the name of our mother, such touching, such noble counsels, that the next + day, Rose and I spent our whole time in recalling every word of our + guardian angel—and his face, and his look—” + </p> + <p> + “This reminds me again, young ladies, that you were whispering all + along the road this morning; and that when I spoke of white, you answered + black.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Dagobert, we were thinking of Gabriel.” + </p> + <p> + “And, ever since, we love him as well as he loves us.” + </p> + <p> + “But he is only one between both of you!” + </p> + <p> + “Was not our mother one between us?” + </p> + <p> + “And you, Dagobert—are you not also one for us both?” + </p> + <p> + “True, true! And yet, do you know, I shall finish by being jealous + of that Gabriel?” + </p> + <p> + “You are our friend by day—he is our friend by night.” + </p> + <p> + “Let’s understand it clearly. If you talk of him all day, and + dream of him all night, what will there remain for me?” + </p> + <p> + “There will remain for you your two orphans, whom you love so much,” + said Rose. + </p> + <p> + “And who have only you left upon earth,” added Blanche, in a + caressing tongue. + </p> + <p> + “Humph! humph! that’s right, coax the old man over, Nay, + believe me, my children,” added the soldier, tenderly, “I am + quite satisfied with my lot. I can afford to let you have your Gabriel. I + felt sure that Spoil sport and myself could take our rest in quiet. After + all, there is nothing so astonishing in what you tell me; your first dream + struck your fancy, and you talked so much about it that you had a second; + nor should I be surprised if you were to see this fine fellow a third + time.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Dagobert! do not make a jest of it! They are only dreams, but + we think our mother sends them to us. Did she not tell us that orphan + children were watched over by guardian angels? Well, Gabriel is our + guardian angel; he will protect us, and he will protect you also.” + </p> + <p> + “Very kind of him to think of me; but you see, my dear children, for + the matter of defence, I prefer the dog; he is less fair than your angel, + but he has better teeth, and that is more to be depended on.” + </p> + <p> + “How provoking you are, Dagobert—always jesting!” + </p> + <p> + “It is true; you can laugh at everything.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I am astonishingly gay; I laugh with my teeth shut, in the + style of old Jovial. Come, children, don’t scold me: I know I am + wrong. The remembrance of your dear mother is mixed with this dream, and + you do well to speak of it seriously. Besides,” added he, with a + grave air, “dreams will sometimes come true. In Spain, two of the + Empress’s dragoons, comrades of mine, dreamt, the night before their + death, that they would be poisoned by the monks—and so it happened. + If you continue to dream of this fair angel Gabriel, it is—it is—why, + it is, because you are amused by it; and, as you have none too many + pleasures in the daytime, you may as well get an agreeable sleep at night. + But, now, my children, I have also much to tell you; it will concern your + mother; promise me not to be sad.” + </p> + <p> + “Be satisfied! when we think of her we are not sad, though serious.” + </p> + <p> + “That is well. For fear of grieving you, I have always delayed the + moment of telling what your poor mother would have confided to you as soon + as you were no longer children. But she died before she had time to do so, + and that which I have to tell broke her heart—as it nearly did mine. + I put off this communication as long as I could, taking for pretext that I + would say nothing till we came to the field of battle where your father + was made prisoner. That gave me time; but the moment is now come; I can + shuffle it off no longer.” + </p> + <p> + “We listen, Dagobert,” responded the two maidens, with an + attentive and melancholy air. + </p> + <p> + After a moment’s silence, during which he appeared to reflect, the + veteran thus addressed the young girls: + </p> + <p> + “Your father, General Simon, was the son of a workman, who remained + a workman; for, notwithstanding all that the general could say or do, the + old man was obstinate in not quitting his trade. He had a heart of gold + and a head of iron, just like his son. You may suppose, my children, that + when your father, who had enlisted as a private soldier, became a general + and a count of the empire, it was not without toil or without glory.” + </p> + <p> + “A count of the Empire! what is that, Dagobert?” + </p> + <p> + “Flummery—a title, which the Emperor gave over and above the + promotion, just for the sake of saying to the people, whom he loved + because he was one of them: Here, children! You wish to play at nobility! + You shall be nobles. You wish to play at royalty! You shall be kings. Take + what you like—nothing is too good for you—enjoy yourselves!” + </p> + <p> + “Kings!” said the two girls, joining their hands in + admiration. + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:65%;"> + <img src="images/10073m.jpg" alt="10073m " width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/10073.jpg"><i>Original</i></a> + </h5> + <p> + “Kings of the first water. Oh, he was no niggard of his crowns, our + Emperor! I had a bed-fellow of mine, a brave soldier, who was afterwards + promoted to be king. This flattered us; for, if it was not one, it was the + other. And so, at this game, your father became count; but, count or not, + he was one of the best and bravest generals of the army.” + </p> + <p> + “He was handsome, was he not, Dagobert?—mother always said so.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes! indeed he was—but quite another thing from your fair + guardian angel. Picture to yourself a fine, dark man, who looked splendid + in his full uniform, and could put fire into the soldiers’ hearts. + With him to lead, we would have charged up into Heaven itself—that + is, if Heaven had, permitted it,” added Dagobert, not wishing to + wound in any way the religious beliefs of the orphans. + </p> + <p> + “And father was as good as he was brave, Dagobert.” + </p> + <p> + “Good, my children? Yes, I should say so!—He could bend a + horse-shoe in his hand as you would bend a card, and the day he was taken + prisoner he had cut down the Prussian artillerymen on their very cannon. + With strength and courage like that, how could he be otherwise than good? + It is then about nineteen years ago, not far from this place—on the + spot I showed you before we arrived at the village—that the general, + dangerously wounded, fell from his horse. I was following him at the time, + and ran to his assistance. Five minutes after we were made prisoners—and + by whom think you?—by a Frenchman.” + </p> + <p> + “A Frenchman?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, an emigrant marquis, a colonel in the service of Russia,” + answered Dagobert, with bitterness. “And so, when this marquis + advanced towards us, and said to the general: ‘Surrender, sir, to a + countryman!’—‘A Frenchman, who fights against France,’ + replied the general, ‘is no longer my countryman; he is a traitor, + and I’d never surrender to a traitor!’ And, wounded though he + was, he dragged himself up to a Russian grenadier, and delivered him his + sabre, saying: ‘I surrender to you my brave fellow!’ The + marquis became pale with rage at it.” + </p> + <p> + The orphans looked at each other with pride, and a rich crimson mantled + their cheeks, as they exclaimed: “Oh, our brave father!” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, those children,” said Dagobert, as he proudly twirled his + moustache. “One sees they have soldier’s blood in their veins! + Well,” he continued, “we were now prisoners. The general’s + last horse had been killed under him; and, to perform the journey, he + mounted Jovial, who had not been wounded that day. We arrived at Warsaw, + and there it was that the general first saw your mother. She was called + the Pearl of Warsaw; that is saying everything. Now he, who admired all + that is good and beautiful, fell in love with her almost immediately; and + she loved him in return; but her parents had promised her to another—and + that other was the same—” + </p> + <p> + Dagobert was unable to proceed. Rose uttered a piercing cry, and pointed + in terror to the window. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0007" id="link2HCH0007"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VII. THE TRAVELER. + </h2> + <h3> + Upon the cry of the young girl, Dagobert rose abruptly. + </h3> + <p> + “What is the matter, Rose?” + </p> + <p> + “There—there!” she said, pointing to the window. “I + thought I saw a hand move the pelisse.” + </p> + <p> + She had not concluded these words before Dagobert rushed to the window and + opened it, tearing down the mantle, which had been suspended from the + fastening. + </p> + <p> + It was still dark night, and the wind was blowing hard. The soldier + listened, but could hear nothing. + </p> + <p> + Returning to fetch the lamp from the table, he shaded the flame with his + hand, and strove to throw the light outside. Still he saw nothing. + Persuaded that a gust of wind had disturbed and shaken the pelisse: and + that Rose had been deceived by her own fears he again shut the window. + </p> + <p> + “Be satisfied, children! The wind is very high; it is that which + lifted the corner of the pelisse.” + </p> + <p> + “Yet methought I saw plainly the fingers which had hold of it,” + said Rose, still trembling. + </p> + <p> + “I was looking at Dagobert,” said Blanche, “and I saw + nothing.” + </p> + <p> + “There was nothing to see, my children; the thing is clear enough. + The window is at least eight feet above the ground; none but a giant could + reach it without a ladder. Now, had any one used a ladder, there would not + have been time to remove it; for, as soon as Rose cried out, I ran to the + window, and, when I held out the light, I could see nothing.” + </p> + <p> + “I must have been deceived,” said Rose. + </p> + <p> + “You may be sure, sister, it was only the wind,” added + Blanche. + </p> + <p> + “Then I beg pardon for having disturbed you, my good Dagobert.” + </p> + <p> + “Never mind!” replied the soldier musingly, “I am only + sorry that Spoil sport is not come back. He would have watched the window, + and that would have quite tranquillized you. But he no doubt scented the + stable of his comrade, Jovial, and will have called in to bid him + good-night on the road. I have half a mind to go and fetch him.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no, Dagobert! do not leave us alone,” cried the maidens; + “we are too much afraid.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, the dog is not likely to remain away much longer, and I am + sure we shall soon hear him scratching at the door, so we will continue + our story,” said Dagobert, as he again seated himself near the head + of the bed, but this time with his face towards the window. + </p> + <p> + “Now the general was prisoner at Warsaw,” continued he, + “and in love with your mother, whom they wished to marry to another. + In 1814, we learned the finish of the war, the banishment of the Emperor + to the Isle of Elba, and the return of the Bourbons. In concert with the + Prussians and Russians, who had brought them back, they had exiled the + Emperor. Learning all this, your mother said to the general: ‘The + war is finished; you are free, but your Emperor is in trouble. You owe + everything to him; go and join him in his misfortunes. I know not when we + shall meet again, but I shall never marry any one but you, I am yours till + death!’—Before he set out the general called me to him, and + said: ‘Dagobert, remain here; Mademoiselle Eva may have need of you + to fly from her family, if they should press too hard upon her; our + correspondence will have to pass through your hands; at Paris, I shall see + your wife and son; I will comfort them, and tell them you are my friend.’” + </p> + <p> + “Always the same,” said Rose, with emotion, as she looked + affectionately at Dagobert. + </p> + <p> + “As faithful to the father and mother as to their children,” + added Blanche. + </p> + <p> + “To love one was to love them all,” replied the soldier. + “Well, the general joined the Emperor at Elba; I remained at Warsaw, + concealed in the neighborhood of your mother’s house; I received the + letters, and conveyed them to her clandestinely. In one of those letters—I + feel proud to tell you of it my children—the general informed me + that the Emperor himself had remembered me.” + </p> + <p> + “What, did he know you?” + </p> + <p> + “A little, I flatter myself—‘Oh! Dagobert!’ said + he to your father, who was talking to him about me; ‘a + horse-grenadier of my old guard—a soldier of Egypt and Italy, + battered with wounds—an old dare-devil, whom I decorated with my own + hand at Wagram—I have not forgotten him!’—I vow, + children, when your mother read that to me, I cried like a fool.” + </p> + <p> + “The Emperor—what a fine golden face he has on the silver + cross with the red ribbon that you would sometimes show us when we behaved + well.” + </p> + <p> + “That cross—given by him—is my relic. It is there in my + knapsack, with whatever we have of value—our little purse and + papers. But, to return to your mother; it was a great consolation to her, + when I took her letters from the general, or talked with her about him—for + she suffered much—oh, so much! In vain her parents tormented and + persecuted her; she always answered: ‘I will never marry any one but + General Simon.’ A spirited woman, I can tell you—resigned, but + wonderfully courageous. One day she received a letter from the general; he + had left the Isle of Elba with the Emperor; the war had again broken out, + a short campaign, but as fierce as ever, and heightened by soldiers’ + devotion. In that campaign of France; my children, especially at + Montmirail, your father fought like a lion, and his division followed his + example it was no longer valor—it was frenzy. He told me that, in + Champagne, the peasants killed so many of those Prussians, that their + fields were manured with them for years. Men, women, children, all rushed + upon them. Pitchforks, stones, mattocks, all served for the slaughter. It + was a true wolf hunt!” + </p> + <p> + The veins swelled on the soldier’s forehead, and his cheeks flushed + as he spoke, for this popular heroism recalled to his memory the sublime + enthusiasm of the wars of the republic—those armed risings of a + whole people, from which dated the first steps of his military career, as + the triumphs of the Empire were the last days of his service. + </p> + <p> + The orphans, too, daughters of a soldier and a brave woman, did not shrink + from the rough energy of these words, but felt their cheeks glow, and + their hearts beat tumultuously. + </p> + <p> + “How happy we are to be the children of so brave a father!” + cried Blanche. + </p> + <p> + “It is a happiness and an honor too, my children—for the + evening of the battle of Montmirail, the Emperor, to the joy of the whole + army, made your father Duke of Ligny and Marshal of France.” + </p> + <p> + “Marshal of France!” said Rose in astonishment, without + understanding the exact meaning of the words. + </p> + <p> + “Duke of Ligny!” added Blanche with equal surprise. + </p> + <p> + “Yes; Peter Simon, the son of a workman, became duke and marshal—there + is nothing higher except a king!” resumed Dagobert, proudly. “That’s + how the Emperor treated the sons of the people, and, therefore, the people + were devoted to him. It was all very fine to tell them ‘Your Emperor + makes you food for cannon.’ ‘Stuff!’ replied the people, + who are no fools, ‘another would make us food for misery. We prefer + the cannon, with the chance of becoming captain or colonel, marshal, king—or + invalid; that’s better than to perish with hunger, cold, and age, on + straw in a garret, after toiling forty years for others.’” + </p> + <p> + “Even in France—even in Paris, that beautiful city—do + you mean to say there are poor people who die of hunger and misery, + Dagobert?” + </p> + <p> + “Even in Paris? Yes, my children; therefore, I come back to the + point, the cannon is better. With it, one has the chance of becoming, like + your father, duke and marshal: when I say duke and marshal, I am partly + right and partly wrong, for the title and the rank were not recognized in + the end; because, after Montmirail, came a day of gloom, a day of great + mourning, when, as the general has told me, old soldiers like myself wept—yes, + wept!—on the evening of a battle. That day, my children, was + Waterloo!” + </p> + <p> + There was in these simple words of Dagobert an expression of such deep + sorrow, that it thrilled the hearts of the orphans. + </p> + <p> + “Alas!” resumed the soldier, with a sigh, “there are + days which seem to have a curse on them. That same day, at Waterloo, the + general fell, covered with wounds, at the head of a division of the + Guards. When he was nearly cured, which was not for a long time, he + solicited permission to go to St. Helena—another island at the far + end of the world, to which the English had carried the Emperor, to torture + him at their leisure; for if he was very fortunate in the first instance, + he had to go through a deal of hard rubs at last, my poor children.” + </p> + <p> + “If you talk in that way, you will make us cry, Dagobert.” + </p> + <p> + “There is cause enough for it—the Emperor suffered so much! He + bled cruelly at the heart believe me. Unfortunately, the general was not + with him at St. Helena; he would have been one more to console him; but + they would not allow him to go. Then, exasperated, like so many others, + against the Bourbons, the general engaged in a conspiracy to recall the + son of the Emperor. He relied especially on one regiment, nearly all + composed of his old soldiers, and he went down to a place in Picardy, + where they were then in garrison; but the conspiracy had already been + divulged. Arrested the moment of his arrival, the general was taken before + the colonel of the regiment. And this colonel,” said the soldier, + after a brief pause, “who do you think it was again? Bah! it would + be too long to tell you all, and would only make you more sad; but it was + a man whom your father had many reasons to hate. When he found himself + face to face with him, he said: ‘if you are not a coward, you will + give me one hour’s liberty, and we will fight to the death; I hate + you for this, I despise you for that’—and so on. The colonel + accepted the challenge, and gave your father his liberty till the morrow. + The duel was a desperate one; the colonel was left for dead on the spot.” + </p> + <p> + “Merciful heaven!” + </p> + <p> + “The general was yet wiping his sword, when a faithful friend came + to him, and told him he had only just time to save himself. In fact, he + happily succeeded in leaving France—yes, happily—for a + fortnight after, he was condemned to death as a conspirator.” + </p> + <p> + “What misfortunes, good heaven!” + </p> + <p> + “There was some luck, however, in the midst of his troubles. Your + mother had kept her promise bravely, and was still waiting for him. She + had written to him: ‘The Emperor first, and me next!’ both + unable to do anything more for the Emperor, nor even for his son, the + general, banished from France, set out for Warsaw. Your mother had lost + her parents, and was now free; they were married—and I am one of the + witnesses to the marriage.” + </p> + <p> + “You are right, Dagobert; that was great happiness in the midst of + great misfortunes!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, they were very happy; but, as it happened with all good + hearts, the happier they were themselves, the more they felt for the + sorrows of others—and there was quite enough to grieve them at + Warsaw. The Russians had again begun to treat the Poles as their slaves; + your brave mother, though of French origin, was a Pole in heart and soul; + she spoke out boldly what others did not dare speak in a whisper, and all + the unfortunate called her their protecting angel. That was enough to + excite the suspicions of the Russian governor. One day, a friend of the + general’s, formerly a colonel in the lancers, a brave and worthy + man, was condemned to be exiled to Siberia for a military plot against the + Russians. He took refuge in your father’s house, and lay hid there; + but his retreat was discovered. During the next night, a party of + Cossacks, commanded by an officer, and followed by a travelling-carriage, + arrive at our door; they rouse the general from his sleep and take him + away with them.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, heaven! what did they mean to do with him?” + </p> + <p> + “Conduct him out of the Russian dominions, with a charge never to + return, on pain of perpetual imprisonment. His last words were: ‘Dagobert, + I entrust to thee my wife and child!’—for it wanted yet some + months of the time when you were to be born. Well, notwithstanding that, + they exiled your mother to Siberia; it was an opportunity to get rid of + her; she did too much good at Warsaw, and they feared her accordingly. Not + content with banishing her, they confiscated all her property; the only + favor she could obtain was, that I should accompany her, and, had it not + been for Jovial, whom the general had given to me, she would have had to + make the journey on foot. It was thus, with her on horseback, and I + leading her as I lead you, my children, that we arrived at the + poverty-stricken village, where, three months after, you poor little + things were born!” + </p> + <p> + “And our father?” + </p> + <p> + “It was impossible for him to return to Russia; impossible for your + mother to think of flight, with two children; impossible for the general + to write to her, as he knew not where she was.” + </p> + <p> + “So, since that time, you have had no news of him?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, my children—once we had news.” + </p> + <p> + “And by whom?” + </p> + <p> + After a moment’s silence, Dagobert resumed with a singular + expression of countenance: “By whom?—by one who is not like + other men. Yes—that you may understand me better, I will relate to + you an extraordinary adventure, which happened to your father during his + last French campaign. He had been ordered by the Emperor to carry a + battery, which was playing heavily on our army; after several unsuccessful + efforts, the general put himself at the head of a regiment of cuirassiers, + and charged the battery, intending, as was his custom, to cut down the men + at their guns. He was on horseback, just before the mouth of a cannon, + where all the artillerymen had been either killed or wounded, when one of + them still found strength to raise himself upon one knee, and to apply the + lighted match to the touchhole—and that when your father was about + ten paces in front of the loaded piece.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! what a peril for our father!” + </p> + <p> + “Never, he told me, had he run such imminent danger for he saw the + artilleryman apply the match, and the gun go off—but, at the very + nick, a man of tall stature, dressed as a peasant, and whom he had not + before remarked, threw himself in front of the cannon.” + </p> + <p> + “Unfortunate creature! what a horrible death!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Dagobert, thoughtfully; “it should have been + so. He ought by rights to have been blown into a thousand pieces. But no—nothing + of the kind!” + </p> + <p> + “What do you tell us?” + </p> + <p> + “What the general told me. ‘At the moment when the gun went + off,’ as he often repeated to me, ‘I shut my eyes by an + involuntary movement, that I might not see the mutilated body of the poor + wretch who had sacrificed himself in my place. When I again opened them, + the first thing I saw in the midst of the smoke, was the tall figure of + this man, standing erect and calm on the same spot, and casting a sad mild + look on the artilleryman, who, with one knee on the ground, and his body + thrown backward, gazed on him in as much terror as if he had been the + devil. Afterwards, I lost sight of this man in the tumult,’ added + your father.” + </p> + <p> + “Bless me Dagobert! how can this be possible?” + </p> + <p> + “That is just what I said to the general. He answered me that he had + never been able to explain to himself this event, which seemed as + incredible as it was true. Moreover, your father must have been greatly + struck with the countenance of this man, who appeared, he said, about + thirty years of age—for he remarked, that his extremely black + eyebrows were joined together, and formed, as it were, one line from + temple to temple, so that he seemed to have a black streak across his + forehead. Remember this, my children; you will soon see why.” + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:65%;"> + <img src="images/10081m.jpg" alt="10081m " width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/10081.jpg"><i>Original</i></a> + </h5> + <p> + “Oh, Dagobert! we shall not forget it,” said the orphans, + growing more and more astonished as he proceeded. + </p> + <p> + “Is it not strange—this man with a black seam on his forehead?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, you shall hear. The general had, as I told you, been left for + dead at Waterloo. During the night which he passed on the field of battle, + in a sort of delirium brought on by the fever of his wounds, he saw, or + fancied he saw, this same man bending over him, with a look of great + mildness and deep melancholy, stanching his wounds, and using every effort + to revive him. But as your father, whose senses were still wandering, + repulsed his kindness saying, that after such a defeat, it only remained + to die—it appeared as if this man replied to him; ‘You must + live for Eva!’ meaning your mother, whom the general had left at + Warsaw, to join the Emperor, and make this campaign of France.” + </p> + <p> + “How strange, Dagobert!—And since then, did our father never + see this man?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, he saw him—for it was he who brought news of the general + to your poor mother.” + </p> + <p> + “When was that? We never heard of it.” + </p> + <p> + “You remember that, on the day your mother died, you went to the + pine forest with old Fedora?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” answered Rose, mournfully; “to fetch some heath, + of which our mother was so fond.” + </p> + <p> + “Poor mother!” added Blanche; “she appeared so well that + morning, that we could not dream of the calamity which awaited us before + night.” + </p> + <p> + “True, my children; I sang and worked that morning in the garden, + expecting, no more than you did, what was to happen. Well, as I was + singing at my work, on a sudden I heard a voice ask me in French: ‘Is + this the village of Milosk?’—I turned round, and saw before me + a stranger; I looked at him attentively, and, instead of replying, fell + back two steps, quite stupefied.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, why?” + </p> + <p> + “He was of tall stature, very pale, with a high and open forehead; + but his eyebrows met, and seemed to form one black streak across it.” + </p> + <p> + “Then it was the same man who had twice been with our father in + battle?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes—it was he.” + </p> + <p> + “But, Dagobert,” said Rose, thoughtfully, “is it not a + long time since these battles?” + </p> + <p> + “About sixteen years.” + </p> + <p> + “And of what age was this stranger?” + </p> + <p> + “Hardly more than thirty.” + </p> + <p> + “Then how can it be the same man, who sixteen years before, had been + with our father in the wars?” + </p> + <p> + “You are right,” said Dagobert, after a moment’s + silence, and shrugging his shoulders: “I may have been deceived by a + chance likeness—and yet—” + </p> + <p> + “Or, if it were the same, he could not have got older all that + while.” + </p> + <p> + “But did you ask him, if he had not formerly relieved our father?” + </p> + <p> + “At first I was so surprised that I did not think of it; and + afterwards, he remained so short a time, that I had no opportunity. Well, + he asked me for the village of Milosk. ‘You are there, sir,’ + said I, ‘but how do you know that I am a Frenchman?’ ‘I + heard you singing as I passed,’ replied he; ‘could you tell me + the house of Madame Simon, the general’s wife?’ ‘She + lives here, sir.’ Then looking at me for some seconds in silence, he + took me by the hand and said: ‘You are the friend of General Simon—his + best friend?’ Judge of my astonishment, as I answered: ‘But, + sir, how do you know?’ ‘He has often spoken of you with + gratitude.’ ‘You have seen the general then?’ ‘Yes, + some time ago, in India. I am also his friend: I bring news of him to his + wife, whom I knew to be exiled in Siberia. At Tobolsk, whence I come, I + learned that she inhabits this village. Conduct me to her!’” + </p> + <p> + “The good traveller—I love him already,” said Rose. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, being father’s friend.” + </p> + <p> + “I begged him to wait an instant, whilst I went to inform your + mother, so that the surprise might not do her harm; five minutes after, he + was beside her.” + </p> + <p> + “And what kind of man was this traveller, Dagobert?” + </p> + <p> + “He was very tall; he wore a dark pelisse, and a fur cap, and had + long black hair.” + </p> + <p> + “Was he handsome?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, my children—very handsome; but with so mild and + melancholy an air, that it pained my heart to see him.” + </p> + <p> + “Poor man! he had doubtless known some great sorrow.” + </p> + <p> + “Your mother had been closeted with him for some minutes, when she + called me to her and said that she had just received good news of the + general. She was in tears, and had before her a large packet of papers; it + was a kind of journal, which your father had written every evening to + console himself; not being able to speak to her, he told the paper all + that he would have told her.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! where are these papers, Dagobert?” + </p> + <p> + “There, in the knapsack, with my cross and our purse. One day I will + give them to you: but I have picked out a few leaves here and there for + you to read presently. You will see why.” + </p> + <p> + “Had our father been long in India?” + </p> + <p> + “I gathered from the few words which your mother said, that the + general had gone to that country, after fighting for the Greeks against + the Turks—for he always liked to side with the weak against the + strong. In India he made fierce war against the English, they had murdered + our prisoners in pontoons, and tortured the Emperor at St. Helena, and the + war was a doubly good one, for in harming them he served a just cause.” + </p> + <p> + “What cause did he serve then?” + </p> + <p> + “That of one of the poor native princes, whose territories the + English, lay waste, till the day when they can take possession of them + against law and right. You see, my children, it was once more the weak + against the strong, and your father did not miss this opportunity. In a + few months he had so well-trained and disciplined the twelve or fifteen + thousand men of the prince, that, in two encounters, they cut to pieces + the English sent against them, and who, no doubt, had in their reckoning + left out your brave father, my children. But come, you shall read some + pages of his journal, which will tell you more and better than I can. + Moreover, you will find in them a name which you ought always to remember; + that’s why I chose this passage.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, what happiness! To read the pages written by our father, is + almost to hear him speak,” said Rose. + </p> + <p> + “It is as if he were close beside us,” added Blanche. + </p> + <p> + And the girls stretched out their hands with eagerness, to catch hold of + the leaves that Dagobert had taken from his pocket. Then, by a + simultaneous movement, full of touching grace, they pressed the writing of + their father in silence to their lips. + </p> + <p> + “You will see also, my children, at the end of this letter, why I + was surprised that your guardian angel, as you say, should be called + Gabriel. Read, read,” added the soldier, observing the puzzled air + of the orphans. “Only I ought to tell you that, when he wrote this, + the general had not yet fallen in with the traveller who brought the + papers.” + </p> + <p> + Rose, sitting up in her bed, took the leaves, and began to read in a soft + and trembling voice, Blanche, with her head resting on her sister’s + shoulder, followed attentively every word. One could even see, by the + slight motion of her lips, that she too was reading, but only to herself. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0008" id="link2HCH0008"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VIII. EXTRACTS FROM GENERAL SIMON’S DIARY. + </h2> + <h3> + Bivouac on the Mountains of Avers February the 20th, 1830. + </h3> + <p> + “Each time I add some pages to this journal, written now in the + heart of India, where the fortune of my wandering and proscribed existence + has thrown me—a journal which, alas! my beloved Eva, you may never + read—I experience a sweet, yet painful emotion; for, although to + converse thus with you is a consolation, it brings back the bitter thought + that I am unable to see or speak to you. + </p> + <p> + “Still, if these pages should ever meet your eyes, your generous + heart will throb at the name of the intrepid being, to whom I am this day + indebted for my life, and to whom I may thus perhaps owe the happiness of + seeing you again—you and my child—for of course our child + lives. Yes, it must be—for else, poor wife, what an existence would + be yours amid the horrors of exile! Dear soul! he must now be fourteen. + Whom does he resemble? Is he like you? Has he your large and beautiful + blue eyes?—Madman that I am! how many times, in this long day-book, + have I already asked the same idle question, to which you can return no + answer!—How many times shall I continue to ask it?—But you + will teach our child to speak and love the somewhat savage name of Djalma.” + </p> + <p> + “Djalma!” said Rose, as with moist eyes she left off reading. + </p> + <p> + “Djalma!” repeated Blanche, who shared the emotion of her + sister. “Oh, we shall never forget that name.” + </p> + <p> + “And you will do well, my children; for it seems to be the name of a + famous soldier, though a very young one. But go on, my little Rose!” + </p> + <p> + “I have told you in the preceding pages, my dear Eva, of the two + glorious days we had this month. The troops of my old friend, the prince, + which daily make fresh advances in European discipline, have performed + wonders. We have beaten the English, and obliged them to abandon a portion + of this unhappy country, which they had invaded in contempt of all the + rights of justice, and which they continue to ravage without mercy, for, + in these parts, warfare is another name for treachery, pillage, and + massacre. This morning, after a toilsome march through a rocky and + mountainous district, we received information from our scouts, that the + enemy had been reinforced, and was preparing to act on the offensive; and, + as we were separated from them by a distance of a few leagues only, an + engagement became inevitable. My old friend the prince, the father of my + deliverer, was impatient to march to the attack. The action began about + three o’clock; it was very bloody and furious. Seeing that our men + wavered for a moment, for they were inferior in number, and the English + reinforcements consisted of fresh troops, I charged at the head of our + weak reserve of cavalry. The old prince was in the centre, fighting, as he + always fights, intrepidly; his son, Djalma, scarcely eighteen, as brave as + his father, did not leave my side. In the hottest part of the engagement, + my horse was killed under me, and rolling over into a ravine, along the + edge of which I was riding, I found myself so awkwardly entangled beneath + him, that for an instant I thought my thigh was broken.” + </p> + <p> + “Poor father!” said Blanche. + </p> + <p> + “This time, happily, nothing more dangerous ensued thanks to Djalma! + You see, Dagobert,” added Rose, “that I remember the name.” + And she continued to read, + </p> + <p> + “The English thought—and a very flattering opinion it was—that, + if they could kill me, they would make short work of the prince’s + army. So a Sepoy officer, with five or six irregulars—cowardly, + ferocious plunderers—seeing me roll down the ravine, threw + themselves into it to despatch me. Surrounded by fire and smoke, and + carried away by their ardor, our mountaineers had not seen me fall; but + Djalma never left me. He leaped into the ravine to my assistance, and his + cool intrepidity saved my life. He had held the fire of his + double-barrelled carbine; with one load, he killed the officer on the + spot; with the other he broke the arm of an irregular, who had already + pierced my left hand with his bayonet. But do not be alarmed, dear Eva; it + is nothing—only a scratch.” + </p> + <p> + “Wounded—again wounded—alas!” cried Blanche, + clasping her hands together, and interrupting her sister. + </p> + <p> + “Take courage!” said Dagobert: “I dare say it was only a + scratch, as the general calls it. Formerly, he used to call wounds, which + did not disable a man from fighting, blank wounds. There was no one like + him for such sayings.” + </p> + <p> + “Djalma, seeing me wounded,” resumed Rose, wiping her eyes, + “made use of his heavy carbine as a club, and drove back the + soldiers. At that instant, I perceived a new assailant, who, sheltered + behind a clump of bamboos which commanded the ravine, slowly lowered his + long gun, placed the barrel between two branches, and took deliberate aim + at Djalma. Before my shouts could apprise him of his danger, the brave + youth had received a ball in his breast. Feeling himself hit, he fell bark + involuntarily two paces, and dropped upon one knee: but he still remained + firm, endeavoring to cover me with his body. You may conceive my rage and + despair, whilst all my efforts to disengage myself were paralyzed by the + excruciating pain in my thigh. Powerless and disarmed, I witnessed for + some moments this unequal struggle. + </p> + <p> + “Djalma was losing blood rapidly; his strength of arm began to fail + him; already one of the irregulars, inciting his comrades with his voice, + drew from his belt a huge, heavy kind of bill-hook, when a dozen of our + mountaineers made their appearance, borne towards the spot by the + irresistible current of the battle. Djalma was rescued in his turn, I was + released, and, in a quarter of an hour, I was able to mount a horse. The + fortune of the day is ours, though with severe loss; but the fires of the + English camp are still visible, and to-morrow the conflict will be + decisive. Thus, my beloved Eva, I owe my life to this youth. Happily, his + wound occasions us no uneasiness; the ball only glanced along the ribs in + a slanting direction.” + </p> + <p> + “The brave boy might have said: ‘A blank wound,’ like + the general,” observed Dagobert. + </p> + <p> + “Now, my dear Eva,” continued Rose, “you must become + acquainted, by means of this narrative at least, with the intrepid Djalma. + He is but just eighteen. With one word, I will paint for you his noble and + valiant nature; it is a custom of this country to give surnames, and, when + only fifteen, he was called ‘The Generous’—by which was, + of course, meant generous in heart and mind. By another custom, no less + touching than whimsical, this name was reverted to his parent, who is + called ‘The Father of the Generous,’ and who might, with equal + propriety, be called ‘The Just,’ for this old Indian is a rare + example of chivalrous honor and proud independence. He might, like so many + other poor princes of this country, have humbled himself before the + execrable despotism of the English, bargained for the relinquishment of + sovereign power, and submitted to brute force—but it was not in his + nature. ‘My whole rights, or a grave in my native mountains!’—such + is his motto. And this is no empty boast; it springs from the conviction + of what is right and just. ‘But you will be crushed in the struggle,’ + I have said to him—‘My friend,’ he answered, ‘what + if, to force you to a disgraceful act, you were told to yield or die?’—From + that day I understood him, and have devoted myself, mind and body, to the + ever sacred cause of the weak against the strong. You see, my Eva, that + Djalma shows himself worthy of such a father. This young Indian is so + proud, so heroic in his bravery, that, like a young Greek of Leonidas’ + age, he fights with his breast bare; while other warriors of his country + (who, indeed, usually have arms, breast, and shoulders uncovered) wear, in + time of battle, a thick, impenetrable vest. The rash daring of this youth + reminds me of Murat, King of Naples, who, I have so often told you, I have + seen a hundred times leading the most desperate charges with nothing but a + riding-whip in his hand.” + </p> + <p> + “That’s another of those kings I was telling you of, whom the + Emperor set up for his amusement,” said Dagobert. “I once saw + a Prussian officer prisoner, whose face had been cut across by that + mad-cap King of Naples’ riding-whip; the mark was there, a black and + blue stripe. The Prussian swore he was dishonored, and that a sabre-cut + would have been preferable. I should rather think so! That devil of a + king; he only had one idea: ‘Forward, on to the cannon!’ As + soon as they began to cannonade, one would have thought the guns were + calling him with all their might, for he was soon up to them with his + ‘Here I am!’ If I speak to you about him, my children, it’s + because he was fond of repeating,—‘No one can break through a + square of infantry, if General Simon or I can’t do it.’” + </p> + <p> + Rose continued: + </p> + <p> + “I have observed with pain, that, notwithstanding his youth, Djalma + is often subject to fits of deep melancholy. At times, I have seen him + exchange with his father looks of singular import. In spite of our mutual + attachment, I believe that both conceal from me some sad family secret, in + so far as I can judge from expressions which have dropped from them by + chance. + </p> + <p> + “It relates to some strange event which their vivid imaginations + have invested with a supernatural character. + </p> + <p> + “And yet, my love, you and I have no longer the right to smile at + the credulity of others. I, since the French campaign, when I met with + that extraordinary adventure, which, to this day, I am quite unable to + understand—” + </p> + <p> + “This refers to the man who threw himself before the mouth of the + cannon,” said Dagobert. + </p> + <p> + “And you,” continued the maiden, still reading, “you, my + dear Eva, since the visits of that young and beautiful woman, whom, as + your mother asserted, she had seen at her mother’s house forty years + before.” + </p> + <p> + The orphans, in amazement, looked at the soldier. + </p> + <p> + “Your mother never spoke to me of that, nor the general either, my + children; this is as strange to me as it is to you.” + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:65%;"> + <img src="images/10089m.jpg" alt="10089m " width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/10089.jpg"><i>Original</i></a> + </h5> + <p> + With increasing excitement and curiosity, Rose continued: + </p> + <p> + “After all, my dear Eva, things which appear very extraordinary, may + often be explained by a chance resemblance or a freak of nature. Marvels + being always the result of optical illusion or heated fancy, a time must + come, when that which appeared to be superhuman or supernatural, will + prove to be the most simple and natural event in the world. I doubt not, + therefore, that the things, which we denominate our prodigies, will one + day receive this commonplace solution.” + </p> + <p> + “You see, my children—things appear marvelous, which at bottom + are quite simple—though for a long time we understand nothing about + them.” + </p> + <p> + “As our father relates this, we must believe it, and not be + astonished—eh, sister?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, truly—since it will all be explained one day.” + </p> + <p> + “For example,” said Dagobert, after a moment’s + reflection, “you two are so much alike, that any one, who was not in + the habit of seeing you daily, might easily take one for the other. Well! + if they did not know that you are, so to speak, ’doubles,’ they might + think an imp was at work instead of such good little angels as you are.” + </p> + <p> + “You are right, Dagobert; in this way many things may be explained, + even as our father says.” And Rose continued to read: + </p> + <p> + “Not without pride, my gentle Eva, have I learned that Djalma has + French blood in his veins. His father married, some years ago, a young + girl, whose family, of French origin, had long been settled at Batavia in + the island of Java. This similarity of circumstances between my old friend + and myself—for your family also, my Eva, is of French origin, and + long settled in a foreign land—has only served to augment my + sympathy for him. Unfortunately, he has long had to mourn the loss of the + wife whom he adored. + </p> + <p> + “See, my beloved Eva! my hand trembles as I write these words. I am + weak—I am foolish—but, alas! my heart sinks within me. If such + a misfortune were to happen to me—Oh, my God!—what would + become of our child without thee—without his father—in that + barbarous country? But no! the very fear is madness; and yet what a + horrible torture is uncertainty! Where may you now be? What are you doing? + What has become of you? Pardon these black thoughts, which are sometimes + too much for me. They are the cause of my worst moments—for, when + free from them, I can at least say to myself: I am proscribed, I am every + way unfortunate—but, at the other end of the world, two hearts still + beat for me with affection—yours, my Eva, and our child’s!” + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:65%;"> + <img src="images/10097m.jpg" alt="10097m " width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/10097.jpg"><i>Original</i></a> + </h5> + <p> + Rose could hardly finish this passage; for some seconds her voice was + broken by sobs. There was indeed a fatal coincidence between the fears of + General Simon and the sad reality; and what could be more touching than + these outpourings of the heart, written by the light of a watch fire, on + the eve of battle, by a soldier who thus sought to soothe the pangs of a + separation, which he felt bitterly, but knew not would be eternal? + </p> + <p> + “Poor general! he is unaware of our misfortune,” said + Dagobert, after a moment’s silence; “but neither has he heard + that he has two children, instead of one. That will be at least some + consolation. But come, Blanche; do go on reading: I fear that this + dwelling on grief fatigues your sister, and she is too much affected by + it. Besides, after all, it is only just, that you should take your share + of its pleasure and its sorrow.” + </p> + <p> + Blanche took the letter, and Rose, having dried her eyes, laid in her turn + her sweet head on the shoulder of her sister, who thus continued: + </p> + <p> + “I am calmer now, my dear Eva; I left off writing for a moment, and + strove to banish those black presentiments. Let us resume our + conversation! After discoursing so long about India, I will talk to you a + little of Europe. Yesterday evening, one of our people (a trusty fellow) + rejoined our outposts. He brought me a letter, which had arrived from + France at Calcutta; at length, I have news of my father, and am no longer + anxious on his account. This letter is dated in August of last year. I see + by its contents, that several other letters, to which he alludes, have + either been delayed or lost; for I had not received any for two years + before, and was extremely uneasy about him. But my excellent father is the + same as ever! Age has not weakened him; his character is as energetic, his + health as robust, as in times past—still a workman, still proud of + his order, still faithful to his austere republican ideas, still hoping + much. + </p> + <p> + “For he says to me, ‘the time is at hand,’ and he + underlines those words. He gives me also, as you will see, good news of + the family of old Dagobert, our friend—for in truth, my dear Eva, it + soothes my grief to think, that this excellent man is with you, that he + will have accompanied you in your exile—for I know him—a + kernel of gold beneath the rude rind of a soldier! How he must love our + child!” + </p> + <p> + Here Dagobert coughed two or three times, stooped down, and appeared to be + seeking on the ground the little red and blue check-handkerchief spread + over his knees. He remained thus bent for some seconds, and, when he + raised himself, he drew his hand across his moustache. + </p> + <p> + “How well father knows you!” + </p> + <p> + “How rightly has he guessed that you would love us!” + </p> + <p> + “Well, well, children; pass over that!—Let’s come to the + part where the general speaks of my little Agricola, and of Gabriel, my + wife’s adopted child. Poor woman! when I think that in three months + perhaps—but come, child, read, read,” added the old soldier, + wishing to conceal his emotion. + </p> + <p> + “I still hope against hope, my dear Eva, that these pages will one + day reach you, and therefore I wish to insert in them all that can be + interesting to Dagobert. It will be a consolation to him, to have some + news of his family. My father, who is still foreman at Mr. Hardy’s, + tells me that worthy man has also taken into his house the son of old + Dagobert. Agricola works under my father, who is enchanted with him. He + is, he tells me, a tall and vigorous lad, who wields the heavy forge + hammer as if it were a feather, and is light-spirited as he is intelligent + and laborious. He is the best workman on the establishment; and this does + not prevent him in the evening, after his hard day’s work, when he + returns home to his mother, whom he truly loves, from making songs and + writing excellent patriotic verses. His poetry is full of fire and energy; + his fellow-workmen sing nothing else, and his lays have the power to warm + the coldest and the most timid hearts.” + </p> + <p> + “How proud you must be of your son, Dagobert,” said Rose, in + admiration; “he writes songs.” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly, it is all very fine—but what pleases me best is, + that he is good to his mother, and that he handles the hammer with a will. + As for the songs, before he makes a ‘Rising of the People,’ or + a ‘Marseillaise,’ he will have had to beat a good deal of + iron; but where can this rascally sweet Agricola have learned to make + songs at all?—No doubt, it was at school, where he went, as you will + see, with his adopted brother Gabriel.” + </p> + <p> + At this name of Gabriel, which reminded them of the imaginary being whom + they called their guardian angel, the curiosity of the young girls was + greatly excited. With redoubled attention, Blanche continued in these + words: + </p> + <p> + “The adopted brother of Agricola, the poor deserted child whom the + wife of our good Dagobert so generously took in, forms, my father tells + me, a great contrast with Agricola; not in heart, for they have both + excellent hearts; but Gabriel is as thoughtful and melancholy as Agricola + is lively, joyous, and active. Moreover, adds my father, each of them, so + to speak, has the aspect, which belongs to his character. Agricola is + dark, tall, and strong, with a gay and bold air; Gabriel, on the contrary, + is weak, fair, timid as a girl, and his face wears an expression of + angelic mildness.” + </p> + <p> + The orphans looked at each other in surprise; then, as they turned towards + the soldier their ingenuous countenances, Rose said to him; “Have + you heard, Dagobert? Father says, that your Gabriel is fair, and has the + face of an angel. Why, ‘tis exactly like ours!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes, I heard very well; it is that which surprised me, in your + dream.” + </p> + <p> + “I should like to know, if he has also blue eyes,” said Rose. + </p> + <p> + “As for that, my children, though the general says nothing about it, + I will answer for it: your fair boys have always blue eyes. But, blue or + black, he will not use them to stare at young ladies; go on, and you will + see why.” + </p> + <p> + Blanche resumed: + </p> + <p> + “His face wears an expression of angelic mildness. One of the + Brothers of the Christian Schools, where he went with Agricola and other + children of his quarter, struck with his intelligence and good + disposition, spoke of him to a person of consequence, who, becoming + interested in the lad, placed him in a seminary for the clergy, and, since + the last two years, Gabriel is a priest. He intends devoting himself to + foreign missions, and will soon set out for America.” + </p> + <p> + “Your Gabriel is a priest, it appears?” said Rose, looking at + Dagobert. + </p> + <p> + “While ours is an angel,” added Blanche. + </p> + <p> + “Which only proves that yours is a step higher than mine. Well, + every one to his taste; there are good people in all trades; but I prefer + that it should be Gabriel who has chosen the black gown. I’d rather + see my boy with arms bare, hammer in hand, and a leathern apron round him, + neither more nor less than your old grandfather, my children—the + father of Marshal Simon, Duke of Ligny—for, after all, marshal and + duke he is by the grace of the Emperor. Now finish your letter.” + </p> + <p> + “Soon, alas, yes!” said Blanche; “there are only a few + lines left.” And she proceeded: + </p> + <p> + “Thus, my dear, loving Eva, if this journal should ever reach its + destination, you will be able to satisfy Dagobert as to the position of + his wife and son, whom he left for our sakes. How can we ever repay such a + sacrifice? But I feel sure, that your good and generous heart will have + found some means of compensation. + </p> + <p> + “Adieu!—Again adieu, for to-day, my beloved Eva; I left off + writing for a moment, to visit the tent of Djalma. He slept peacefully, + and his father watched beside him; with a smile, he banished my fears. + This intrepid young man is no longer in any danger. May he still be spared + in the combat of to-morrow! Adieu, my gentle Eva! the night is silent and + calm; the fires of the bivouac are slowly dying out, and our poor + mountaineers repose after this bloody day; I can hear, from hour to hour, + the distant all’s well of our sentinels. Those foreign words bring + back my grief; they remind me of what I sometimes forget in writing—that + I am faraway, separated from you and from my child! Poor, beloved beings! + what will be your destiny? Ah! if I could only send you, in time, that + medal, which, by a fatal accident, I carried away with me from Warsaw, you + might, perhaps, obtain leave to visit France, or at least to send our + child there with Dagobert; for you know of what importance—But why + add this sorrow to all the rest? Unfortunately, the years are passing + away, the fatal day will arrive, and this last hope, in which I live for + you, will also be taken from me: but I will not close the evening by so + sad a thought. Adieu, my beloved Eva! Clasp our child to your bosom, and + cover it with all the kisses which I send to both of you from the depths + of exile!” + </p> + <p> + “Till to-morrow—after the battle!” + </p> + <p> + The reading of this touching letter was followed by long silence. The + tears of Rose and Blanche flowed together. Dagobert, with his head resting + on his hand, was absorbed in painful reflections. + </p> + <p> + Without doors, the wind had now augmented in violence; a heavy rain began + to beat on the sounding panes; the most profound silence reigned in the + interior of the inn. But, whilst the daughters of General Simon were + reading with such deep emotion, these fragments of their father’s + journal, a strange and mysterious scene transpired in the menagerie of the + brute-tamer. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0009" id="link2HCH0009"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER IX. THE CAGES. + </h2> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">M</span>orok had prepared + himself. Over his deer-skin vest he had drawn the coat of mail—that + steel tissue, as pliable as cloth, as hard as diamonds; next, clothing his + arms and legs in their proper armor, and his feet in iron-bound buskins, + and concealing all this defensive equipment under loose trousers and an + ample pelisse carefully buttoned, he took in his hand a long bar of iron, + white-hot, set in a wooden handle. + </p> + <p> + Though long ago daunted by the skill and energy of the Prophet, his tiger + Cain, his lion Judas, and his black panther Death, had sometimes + attempted, in a moment of rebellion, to try their fangs and claws on his + person; but, thanks to the armor concealed beneath his pelisse, they + blunted their claws upon a skin of steel, and notched their fangs upon + arms or legs of iron, whilst a slight touch of their master’s + metallic wand left a deep furrow in their smoking, shrivelled flesh. + </p> + <p> + Finding the inutility of their efforts, and endowed with strong memory, + the beasts soon learned that their teeth and claws were powerless when + directed against this invulnerable being. Hence, their terrified + submission reached to such a point that, in his public representations, + their master could make them crouch and cower at his feet by the least + movement of a little wand covered with flame-colored paper. + </p> + <p> + The Prophet, thus armed with care, and holding in his hand the iron made + hot by Goliath, descended by the trapdoor of the loft into the large shed + beneath, in which were deposited the cages of his animals. A mere wooden + partition separated this shed from the stable that contained his horses. + </p> + <p> + A lantern, with a reflector, threw a vivid light on the cages. They were + four in number. A wide iron grating formed their sides, turning at one end + upon hinges like a door, so as to give ingress to the animal; the bottom + of each den rested on two axle-trees and four small iron castors, so that + they could easily be removed to the large covered wagon in which they were + placed during a journey. One of them was empty; the other three contained, + as already intimated, a panther, a tiger, and a lion. + </p> + <p> + The panther, originally from Java, seemed to merit the gloomy name of + Death, by her grim, ferocious aspect. Completely black, she lay crouching + and rolled up in the bottom of her cage, and her dark hues mingling with + the obscurity which surrounded her, nothing was distinctly visible but + fixed and glaring eyes—yellow balls of phosphoric light, which only + kindled, as it were, in the night-time; for it is the nature of all the + animals of the feline species to enjoy entire clearness of vision but in + darkness. + </p> + <p> + The Prophet entered the stable in silence: the dark red of his long + pelisse contrasted with the pale yellow of his straight hair and beard; + the lantern, placed at some height above the ground, threw its rays full + upon this man, and the strong light, opposed to the deep shadows around + it, gave effect to the sharp proportions of his bony and savage looking + figure. + </p> + <p> + He approached the cage slowly. The white rim, which encircled his eyeball, + appeared to dilate, and his look rivaled in motionless brilliancy the + steadily sparkling gaze of the panther. Still crouching in the shade, she + felt already the fascination of that glance; two or three times she + dropped her eyelids, with a low, angry howl; then, reopening her eyes, as + if in spite of herself, she kept them fastened immovably on those of the + Prophet. And now her rounded ears clung to her skull, which was flattened + like a viper’s; the skin of her forehead became convulsively + wrinkled; she drew in her bristling, but silky muzzle, and twice silently + opened her jaws, garnished with formidable fangs. From that moment a kind + of magnetic connection seemed to be established between the man and the + beast. + </p> + <p> + The Prophet extended his glowing bar towards the cage, and said, in a + sharp, imperious tone: “Death! come here.” + </p> + <p> + The panther rose, but so dragged herself along that her belly and the bend + of her legs touched the ground. She was three feet high, and nearly five + in length; her elastic and fleshy spine, the sinews of her thighs as well + developed as those of a race-horse, her deep chest, her enormous jutting + shoulders, the nerve and muscle in her short, thick paws—all + announced that this terrible animal united vigor with suppleness, and + strength with agility. + </p> + <p> + Morok, with his iron wand still extended in the direction of the cage, + made a step towards the panther. The panther made a stride towards the + Prophet. Morok stopped; Death stopped also. + </p> + <p> + At this moment the tiger, Judas, to whom Morok’s back was turned, + bounded violently in his cage, as if jealous of the attention, which his + master paid to the panther. He growled hoarsely, and, raising his head, + showed the under-part of his redoubtable triangular jaw, and his broad + chest of a dirty white, with which blended the copper color, streaked with + black, of his sides; his tail, like a huge red serpent, with rings of + ebony, now clung to his flanks, now lashed them with a slow and continuous + movement: his eyes, of a transparent, brilliant green, were fixed upon the + Prophet. + </p> + <p> + Such was the influence of this man over his animals, that Judas almost + immediately ceased growling, as if frightened at his own temerity; but his + respiration continued loud and deep. Morok turned his face towards him, + and examined him very attentively during some seconds. The panther, no + longer subject to the influence of her master’s look, slunk back to + crouch in the shade. + </p> + <p> + A sharp cracking, in sudden breaks, like that which great animals make in + gnawing hard substances, was now heard from the cage of the lion. It drew + the attention of the Prophet, who, leaving the tiger, advanced towards the + other den. + </p> + <p> + Nothing could be seen of the lion but his monstrous croup of a reddish + yellow. His thighs were gathered under him, and his thick mane served + entirely to conceal his head. But by the tension and movement of the + muscles of his loins, and the curving of his backbone, it was easy to + perceive that he was making violent efforts with his throat and his + forepaws. The Prophet approached the cage with same uneasiness, fearing + that, notwithstanding his orders, Goliath had given the lion some bones to + gnaw. To assure himself of it, he said in a quick and firm voice: “Cain!” + </p> + <p> + The lion did not change his position. + </p> + <p> + “Cain! come here!” repeated Morok in a louder tone. The appeal + was useless; the lion did not move, and the noise continued. + </p> + <p> + “Cain! come here!” said the Prophet a third time; but, as he + pronounced these words, he applied the end of the glowing bar to the + haunch of the lion. + </p> + <p> + Scarcely did the light track of smoke appear on the reddish hide of Cain, + when, with a spring of incredible agility, he turned and threw himself + against the grating, not crouching, but at a single bound—upright, + superb, terrifying. The Prophet being at the angle of the cage, Cain, in + his fury, had raised himself sideways to face his master, and, leaning his + huge flank against the bars, thrust between them his enormous fore leg, + which, with his swollen muscles, was as large as Goliath’s thigh. + </p> + <p> + “Cain! down!” said the Prophet, approaching briskly. + </p> + <p> + The lion did not obey immediately. His lips, curling with rage, displayed + fangs as long, as large, and as pointed as the tusks of a wild boar. But + Morok touched those lips with the end of the burning metal; and, as he + felt the smart, followed by an unexpected summons of his master, the lion, + not daring to roar, uttered a hollow growl, and his great body sank down + at once in an attitude of submission and fear. + </p> + <p> + The Prophet took down the lantern to see what Cain had been gnawing. It + was one of the planks from the floor of his den, which he had succeeded in + tearing up, and was crunching between his teeth in the extremity of his + hunger. For a few moments the most profound silence reigned in the + menagerie. The Prophet, with his hands behind his back, went from one cage + to the other, observing the animals with a restless contemplative look, as + if he hesitated to make between them an important and difficult choice. + </p> + <p> + From time to time he listened at the great door of the shed, which opened + on the court-yard of the inn. At length this door turned on its hinges, + and Goliath appeared, his clothes dripping with water. + </p> + <p> + “Well! is it done?” said the Prophet. + </p> + <p> + “Not without trouble. Luckily, the night is dark, it blows hard, and + it pours with rain.” + </p> + <p> + “Then there is no suspicion?” + </p> + <p> + “None, master. Your information was good. The door of the cellar + opens on the fields, just under the window of the lasses. When you + whistled to let me know it was time, I crept out with a stool I had + provided; I put it up against the wall, and mounted upon it; with my six + feet, that made nine, and I could lean my elbows on the window-ledge; I + took the shutter in one hand, and the haft of my knife in the other, and, + whilst I broke two of the panes, I pushed the shutter with all my might.” + </p> + <p> + “And they thought it was the wind?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, they thought it was the wind. You see, the ‘brute’ + is not such a brute, after all. That done, I crept back into my cellar, + carrying my stool with me. In a little time, I heard the voice of the old + man; it was well I had made haste.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, when I whistled to you, he had just entered the supper-room. I + thought he would have been longer.” + </p> + <p> + “That man’s not built to remain long at supper,” said + the giant, contemptuously. “Some moments after the panes had been + broken, the old man opened the window, and called his dog, saying: ‘Jump + out!’—I went and hid myself at the further end of the cellar, + or that infernal dog would have scented me through the door.” + </p> + <p> + “The dog is now shut up in the stable with the old man’s + horse.” + </p> + <p> + “Go on!” + </p> + <p> + “When I heard them close shutter and window, I came out of my + cellar, replaced my stool, and again mounted upon it. Unfastening the + shutter, I opened it without noise, but the two broken panes were stopped + up with the skirts of a pelisse. I heard talking, but I could see nothing; + so I moved the pelisse a little, and then I could see the two lasses in + bed opposite to me, and the old man sitting down with his back to where I + stood.” + </p> + <p> + “But the knapsack—the knapsack?—That is the most + important.” + </p> + <p> + “The knapsack was near the window, on a table, by the side of a + lamp; I could have reached it by stretching out my arm.” + </p> + <p> + “What did you hear said?” + </p> + <p> + “As you told me to think only of the knapsack, I can only remember + what concerns the knapsack. The old man said he had some papers in it—the + letter of a general—his money—his cross.” + </p> + <p> + “Good—what next?” + </p> + <p> + “As it was difficult for me to keep the pelisse away from the hole, + it slipped through my fingers. In trying to get hold of it again, I put my + hand too much forward. One of the lasses saw it, and screamed out, + pointing to the window.” + </p> + <p> + “Dolt!” exclaimed the Prophet, becoming pale with rage, + “you have ruined all.” + </p> + <p> + “Stop a bit! there is nothing broken yet. When I heard the scream, I + jumped down from my stool, and got back into the cellar; as the dog was no + longer about, I left the door ajar, so that I could hear them open the + window, and see, by the light, that the old man was looking out with the + lamp; but he could find no ladder, and the window was too high for any man + of common size to reach it!” + </p> + <p> + “He will have thought, like the first time, that it was the wind. + You are less awkward than I imagined.” + </p> + <p> + “The wolf has become a fox, as you said. Knowing where the knapsack + was to be found with the money and the papers, and not being able to do + more for the moment, I came away—and here I am.” + </p> + <p> + “Go upstairs and fetch me the longest pike.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, master.” + </p> + <p> + “And the red blanket.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, master.” + </p> + <p> + “Go!” + </p> + <p> + Goliath began to mount the ladder; half-way up he stopped. “Master,” + said he, “may I not bring down a bit of meat for Death?—you + will see that she’ll bear me malice; she puts it all down to my + account; she never forgets, and on the first occasion—” + </p> + <p> + “The pike and the cloth!” repeated the Prophet, in an + imperious tone. And whilst Goliath, swearing to himself, proceeded to + execute his instructions, Morok opened the great door of the shed, looked + out into the yard, and listened. + </p> + <p> + “Here’s the pike and the cloth,” said the giant, as he + descended the ladder with the articles. “Now what must I do next?” + </p> + <p> + “Return to the cellar, mount once more by the window, and when the + old man leaves the room—” + </p> + <p> + “Who will make him leave the room?” + </p> + <p> + “Never mind! he will leave it.” + </p> + <p> + “What next?” + </p> + <p> + “You say the lamp is near the window?” + </p> + <p> + “Quite near—on the table next to the knapsack.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, then, as soon as the old man leaves the room, push open the + window, throw down the lamp, and if you accomplish cleverly what remains + to do—the ten florins are yours—you remember it all?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes.” + </p> + <p> + “The girls will be so frightened by the noise and darkness, that + they will remain dumb with terror.” + </p> + <p> + “Make yourself easy! The wolf turned into a fox; why not a serpent?” + </p> + <p> + “There is yet something.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, what now?” + </p> + <p> + “The roof of this shed is not very high, the window of the loft is + easy of access, the night is dark—instead of returning by the door—” + </p> + <p> + “I will come in at the window.” + </p> + <p> + “Ay, and without noise.” + </p> + <p> + “Like a regular snake!” and the giant departed. + </p> + <p> + “Yes!” said the Prophet to himself, after a long silence, + “these means are sure. It was not for me to hesitate. A blind and + obscure instrument, I know not the motives of the orders I have received: + but from the recommendations which accompany them—but from the + position of him who sends them—immense interests must be involved—interests + connected with all that is highest and greatest upon earth!—And yet + how can these two girls, almost beggars, how can this wretched soldier + represent such interests?—No matter,” added he, with humility; + “I am the arm which acts—it is for the head, which thinks and + orders, to answer for its work.” + </p> + <p> + Soon after the Prophet left the shed, carrying with him the red cloth, and + directed his steps towards the little stable that contained Jovial. The + crazy door, imperfectly secured by a latch, was easily opened. At sight of + a stranger Spoil-sport threw himself upon him; but his teeth encountered + the iron leggings of the Prophet, who, in spite of the efforts of the dog + took Jovial by his halter, threw the blanket over his head to prevent his + either seeing or smelling, and led him from the stable into the interior + of the menagerie, of which he closed the door. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0010" id="link2HCH0010"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER X. THE SURPRISE. + </h2> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>he orphans, after + reading the journal of their father, remained for some moments silent, + sad, and pensive, contemplating the leaves yellowed by time. Dagobert, + also plunged in a reverie, thought of his wife and son, from whom he had + been so long separated, and hoped soon to see again. + </p> + <p> + The soldier was the first to break the silence, which had lasted for + several minutes. Taking the leaves from the hand of Blanche, he folded + them carefully, put them into his pocket, and thus addressed the orphans: + </p> + <p> + “Courage, my children! you see what a brave father you have. Think + only of the pleasure of greeting him, and remember always the name of the + gallant youth, to whom you will owe that pleasure—for without him + your father would have been killed in India.” + </p> + <p> + “Djalma! we shall never forget him,” said Rose. + </p> + <p> + “And if our guardian angel Gabriel should return,” added + Blanche, “we will ask him to watch over Djalma as over ourselves.” + </p> + <p> + “Very well, my children; I am sure that you will forget nothing that + concerns good feeling. But to return to the traveller, who came to visit + your poor mother in Siberia, he had seen the general a month after the + events of which you have read, and at a moment when he was about to enter + on a new campaign against the English. It was then that your father + entrusted him with the papers and medal.” + </p> + <p> + “But of what use will this medal be to us, Dagobert?” + </p> + <p> + “And what is the meaning of these words engraved upon it?” + added Rose, as she drew it from her bosom. + </p> + <p> + “Why it means, my children, that on the 13th of February, 1832, we + must be at No. 3, Rue Saint Francois, Paris.” + </p> + <p> + “But what are we to do there?” + </p> + <p> + “Your poor mother was seized so quickly with her last illness, that + she was unable to tell me. All I know is, that this medal came to her from + her parents, and that it had been a relic preserved in her family for more + than a century.” + </p> + <p> + “And how did our father get it?” + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:65%;"> + <img src="images/10105m.jpg" alt="10105m " width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/10105.jpg"><i>Original</i></a> + </h5> + <p> + “Among the articles which had been hastily thrown into the coach, + when he was removed by force from Warsaw, was a dressing-case of your + mother’s, in which was contained this medal. Since that time the + general had been unable to send it back, having no means of communicating + with us, and not even knowing where we were.” + </p> + <p> + “This medal is, then, of great importance to us?” + </p> + <p> + “Unquestionably; for never, during fifteen years, had I seen your + mother so happy, as on the day the traveller brought it back to her. + ‘Now,’ said she to me, in the presence of the stranger, and + with tears of joy in her eyes, ‘now may my children’s future + be brilliant as their life has hitherto been miserable. I will entreat of + the governor of Siberia permission to go to France with my daughters; it + will perhaps be thought I have been sufficiently punished, by fifteen + years of exile, and the confiscation of my property. Should they refuse, I + will remain here; but they will at least allow me to send my children to + France, and you must accompany them, Dagobert. You shall set out + immediately, for much time has been already lost; and, if you were not to + arrive before the 13th of next February, this cruel separation and + toilsome journey would have been all in vain.’” + </p> + <p> + “Suppose we were one day after?” + </p> + <p> + “Your mother told me that if we arrived the 14th instead of the + 13th, it would be too late. She also gave me a thick letter, to put into + the post for France, in the first town we should pass through—which + I have done.” + </p> + <p> + “And do you think we shall be at Paris in time?” + </p> + <p> + “I hope so; still, if you are strong enough, we must sometimes make + forced marches—for, if we only travel our five leagues a day, and + that without accident, we shall scarcely reach Paris until the beginning + of February, and it is better to be a little beforehand.” + </p> + <p> + “But as father is in—India, and condemned to death if he + return to France, when shall we see him?” + </p> + <p> + “And where shall we see him?” + </p> + <p> + “Poor children! there are so many things you have yet to learn. When + the traveller quitted him, the general could not return to France, but now + he can do so.” + </p> + <p> + “And why is that?” + </p> + <p> + “Because the Bourbons, who had banished him, were themselves turned + out last year. The news must reach India, and your father will certainly + come to meet you at Paris, because he expects that you and your mother + will be there on the 13th of next February.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! now I understand how we may hope to see him,” said Rose + with a sigh. + </p> + <p> + “Do you know the name of this traveller, Dagobert?” + </p> + <p> + “No, my children; but whether called Jack or John, he is a good + sort. When he left your mother, she thanked him with tears for all his + kindness and devotion to the general, herself, and the children; but he + pressed her hands in his, and said to her, in so gentle a voice that I + could not help being touched by it: ‘Why do you thank me? Did He not + Say—LOVE YE ONE ANOTHER!’” + </p> + <p> + “Who is that, Dagobert?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, of whom did the traveller speak?” + </p> + <p> + “I know nothing about it; only the manner in which he pronounced + those words struck me, and they were the last he spoke.” + </p> + <p> + “Love one another!” repeated Rose, thoughtfully. + </p> + <p> + “How beautiful are those words!” added Blanche. + </p> + <p> + “And whither was the traveller going?” + </p> + <p> + “Far, very far into the North, as he told your mother. When she saw + him depart, she said to me: ‘His mild, sad talk has affected me even + to tears; whilst I listened to him, I seemed to be growing better—I + seemed to love my husband and my children more—and yet, to judge by + the expression of his countenance, one would think that this stranger had + never either smiled or wept!’ She and I watched him from the door as + long as we could follow him with our eyes; he carried his head down, and + his walk was slow, calm, and firm; one might fancy that he counted his + steps. And, talking of steps, I remarked yet another thing.” + </p> + <p> + “What was it, Dagobert?” + </p> + <p> + “You know that the road which led to our house way, always damp, + because of the overflowing of the little spring.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, then, the mark of the traveller’s footsteps remained in + the clay, and I saw that he had nails under his shoe in the form of a + cross.” + </p> + <p> + “How in the form of a cross?” + </p> + <p> + “Look!” said Dagobert, placing the tip of his finger seven + times on the coverlet of the bed; “they were arrange: thus beneath + his heel:” + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + * + * * * + * + * + * +</pre> + <p> + “You see it forms a cross.” + </p> + <p> + “What could it mean, Dagobert?” + </p> + <p> + “Chance, perhaps—yes, chance—and yet, in spite of + myself, this confounded cross left behind him struck me as a bad omen, for + hardly was he gone when misfortune after misfortune fell upon us.” + </p> + <p> + “Alas! the death of our mother!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes—but, before that, another piece of ill-luck. You had not + yet returned, and she was writing her petition to ask leave to go to + France or to send you there, when I heard the gallop of a horse. It was a + courier from the governor general of Siberia. He brought us orders to + change our residence; within three days we were to join other condemned + persons, and be removed with them four hundred leagues further north. + Thus, after fifteen years of exile, they redoubled in cruelty towards your + mother.” + </p> + <p> + “Why did they thus torment her?” + </p> + <p> + “One would think that some evil genius was at work against her. A + few days later, the traveller would no longer have found us at Milosk; and + if he had joined us further on, it would have been too far for the medal + and papers to be of use—since, having set out almost immediately, we + shall hardly arrive in time at Paris. ‘If they had some interest to + prevent me and my children from going to France,’ said your mother, + ‘they would act just as they have done. To banish us four hundred + leagues further, is to render impossible this journey, of which the term + is fixed.’ And the idea overwhelmed her with grief.” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps it was this unexpected sorrow that was the cause of her + sudden illness.” + </p> + <p> + “Alas! no, my children; it was that infernal cholera, who arrives + without giving you notice—for he too is a great traveller—and + strikes you down like a thunderbolt. Three hours after the traveller had + left us, when you returned quite pleased and gay from the forest, with + your large bunches of wild-flowers for your mother, she was already in the + last agony, and hardly to be recognized. The cholera had broken out in the + village, and that evening five persons died of it. Your mother had only + time to hang the medal about your neck, my dear little Rose, to recommend + you both to my care, and to beg that we should set out immediately. When + she was gone, the new order of exile could not apply to you; and I + obtained permission from the governor to take my departure with you for + France, according to the last wishes—” + </p> + <p> + The soldier could not finish the sentence; he covered his eyes with his + hand, whilst the orphans embraced him sobbing. + </p> + <p> + “Oh! but,” resumed Dagobert, with pride, after a moment of + painful silence, “it was then that you showed yourselves the brave + daughters of the general. Notwithstanding the danger, it was impossible to + tear you from your mother’s bedside; you remained with her to the + last, you closed her eyes, you watched there all night, and you would not + leave the village till you had seen me plant the little wooden cross over + the grave I had dug for her.” + </p> + <p> + Dagobert paused abruptly. A strange, wild neighing, mingled with ferocious + roarings, made the soldier start from his seat. He grew pale, and cried: + “It is Jovial! my horse! What are they doing to my horse?” + With that, opening the door he rushed down the stairs precipitately. + </p> + <p> + The two sisters clung together, so terrified at the sudden departure of + the soldier, that they saw not an enormous hand pass through the broken + panes, unfasten the catch of the window, push it violently open, and throw + down the lamp placed on the little table, on which was the soldiers’s + knapsack. The orphans thus found themselves plunged into complete + darkness. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0011" id="link2HCH0011"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XI. JOVIAL and DEATH. + </h2> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">M</span>orok had led + Jovial into the middle of the menagerie, and then removed the cloth which + prevented him from seeing and smelling. Scarcely had the tiger, lion, and + panther caught a glimpse of him than they threw themselves, half famished, + against the bars of their dens. + </p> + <p> + The horse struck with stupor, his neck stretched out, his eye fixed, and + trembling through all his limbs, appeared as if nailed to the ground; an + abundant icy sweat rolled suddenly down his flanks. The lion and the tiger + uttered fearful roarings, and struggled violently in their dens. The + panther did not roar, but her mute rage was terrific. + </p> + <p> + With a tremendous bound, at the risk of breaking her skull, she sprang + from the back of the cage against the bars; then, still mute, still + furious, she crawled back to the extreme corner of the den, and with a new + spring, as impetuous as it was blind, she again strove to force out the + iron grating. Three times had she thus bounded—silent, appalling—when + the horse, passing from the immobility of stupor to the wild agony of + fear, neighed long and loud, and rushed in desperation at the door by + which he had entered. Finding it closed he hung his head, bent his knees a + little, and rubbed his nostrils against the opening left between the + ground and the bottom of the door, as if he wished to inhale the air from + the outside; then, more and more affrighted, he began to neigh with + redoubled force, and struck out violently with his fore-feet. + </p> + <p> + At the moment when Death was about once more to make her spring, the + Prophet approached her cage. The heavy bolt which secured the grating was + pushed from its staple by the pike of the brute-tamer, and, in another + second, Morok was half way up the ladder that communicated with the loft. + </p> + <p> + The roaring of the lion and tiger, mingled with the neighing of Jovial, + now resounded through all parts of the inn. The panther had again thrown + herself furiously on the grating, and this time yielding with one spring, + she was in the middle of the shed. + </p> + <p> + The light of the lantern was reflected from the glossy ebon of her hide, + spotted with stains of a duller black. For an instant she remained + motionless, crouching upon her thick-set limbs, with her head close to the + floor, as if calculating the distance of the leap by which she was to + reach the horse; then suddenly she darted upon him. + </p> + <p> + On seeing her break from her cage Jovial had thrown himself violently + against the door, which was made to open inwards, and leaned against it + with all his might, as though he would force it down. Then, at the moment + when Death took her leap, he reared up in almost an erect position; but + she, rapid as lightning, had fastened upon his throat and hung there, + whilst at the same time she buried the sharp claws of her fore-feet in his + chest. The jugular vein of the horse opened; a torrent of bright red blood + spouted forth beneath the tooth of the panther, who, now supporting + herself on her hind legs, squeezed her victim up against the door, whilst + she dug into his flank with her claws, and laid bare the palpitating + flesh. Then his half-strangled neighing became awful. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly these words resounded: “Courage, Jovial!—I am at + hand! Courage!” + </p> + <p> + It was the voice of Dagobert, who was exhausting himself in desperate + exertions to force open the door that concealed this sanguinary struggle. + “Jovial!” cried the soldier, “I am here. Help! Help!” + </p> + <p> + At the sound of that friendly and well-known voice, the poor animal, + almost at its last gasp, strove to turn its head in the direction whence + came the accents of his master, answered him with a plaintive neigh, and, + sinking beneath the efforts of the panther, fell prostrate, first on its + knees, then upon its flank, so that its backbone lay right across the + door, and still prevented its being opened. And now all was finished. The + panther, squatting down upon the horse, crushed him with all her paws, + and, in spite of some last faint kicks, buried her bloody snout in his + body. + </p> + <p> + “Help! help! my horse!” cried Dagobert, as he vainly shook the + door. “And no arms!” he added with rage; “no arms!” + </p> + <p> + “Take care!” exclaimed the brute-tamer, who appeared at the + window of the loft; “do not attempt to enter it might cost you your + life. My panther is furious.” + </p> + <p> + “But my horse! my horse!” cried Dagobert, in a voice of agony. + </p> + <p> + “He must have strayed from his stable during the night, and pushed + open the door of the shed. At sight of him the panther must have broken + out of her cage and seized him. You are answerable for all the mischief + that may ensue,” added the brute-tamer, with a menacing air; “for + I shall have to run the greatest danger, to make Death return to her den.” + </p> + <p> + “But my horse! only save my horse!” cried Dagobert, in a tone + of hopeless supplication. + </p> + <p> + The Prophet disappeared from the window. + </p> + <p> + The roaring of the animals and the shouts of Dagobert, had roused from + sleep every one in the White Falcon. Here and there lights were seen + moving and windows were thrown open hurriedly. The servants of the inn + soon appeared in the yard with lanterns, and surrounding Dagobert, + inquired of him what had happened. + </p> + <p> + “My horse is there,” cried the soldier, continuing to shake + the door, “and one of that scoundrel’s animals has escaped + from its cage.” + </p> + <p> + At these words the people of the inn, already terrified by the frightful + roaring, fled from the spot and ran to inform the host. The soldier’s + anguish may be conceived, as pale, breathless, with his ear close to the + chink of the door, he stood listening. By degrees the roaring had ceased, + and nothing was heard but low growls, accompanied by the stern voice of + the Prophet, repeating in harsh, abrupt accents: “Death! come here! + Death!” + </p> + <p> + The night was profoundly dark, and Dagobert did not perceive Goliath, who, + crawling carefully along the tiled roof entered the loft by the attic + window. + </p> + <p> + And now the gate of the court-yard was again opened, and the landlord of + the inn appeared, followed by a number of men. Armed with a carbine, he + advanced with precaution; his people carried staves and pitchforks. + </p> + <p> + “What is the row here?” said he, as he approached Dagobert. + “What a hubbub in my house! The devil take wild beast showmen, and + negligent fellows who don’t know how to tie a horse to the manger! + If your beast is hurt, so much the worse for you; you should have taken + more care of it.” + </p> + <p> + Instead of replying to these reproaches, the soldier, who still listened + attentively to what was going on in the shed, made a sign to entreat + silence. Suddenly a ferocious roar was heard, followed by a loud scream + from the Prophet; and, almost immediately after, the panther howled + piteously. + </p> + <p> + “You are no doubt the cause of some great accident,” said the + frightened host to the soldier; “did you not hear that cry? Morok + is, perhaps, dangerously wounded.” + </p> + <p> + Dagobert was about to answer, when the door opened, and Goliath appeared + on the threshold. + </p> + <p> + “You may enter now,” said he; “the danger is over.” + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:65%;"> + <img src="images/10113m.jpg" alt="10113m " width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/10113.jpg"><i>Original</i></a> + </h5> + <p> + The interior of the menagerie presented a singular spectacle. The Prophet, + pale, and scarcely able to conceal his agitation beneath an apparent air + of calmness, was kneeling some paces from the cage of the panther, in the + attitude of one absorbed in himself; the motion of his lips indicating + that he was praying. At sight of the host and the people of the inn, he + rose, and said in a solemn voice: “I thank thee, my Preserver, that + I have been able to conquer, by the strength which Thou hast given me.” + </p> + <p> + Then folding his arms, with haughty brow and imperious glance, he seemed + to enjoy the triumph he had achieved over Death, who, stretched on the + bottom of her den, continued to utter plaintive howlings. The spectators + of this scene, ignorant that the pelisse of the brute-tamer covered a + complete suit of armor, and attributing the cries of the panther solely to + fear, were struck with astonishment and admiration at the intrepidity and + almost supernatural power of this man. A few steps behind him stood + Goliath, leaning upon the ashen pikestaff. Finally, not far from the cage, + in the midst of a pool of blood, lay the dead body of Jovial. + </p> + <p> + At sight of the blood-stained and torn remains, Dagobert stood motionless, + and his rough countenance assumed an expression of the deepest grief: + then, throwing himself on his knees, he lifted the head of Jovial; and + when he saw those dull, glassy, and half-closed eyes, once so bright and + intelligent, as they turned towards a much-loved master, the soldier could + not suppress an exclamation of bitter anguish. Forgetting his anger, + forgetting the deplorable consequences of this accident, so fatal to the + interests of the two maidens, who would thus be prevented from continuing + their journey—he thought only of the horrible death of his poor old + horse, the ancient companion of his fatigues and wars, the faithful + animal, twice wounded like himself, and from whom for so many years he had + never been separated. This poignant emotion was so cruelly, so affectingly + visible in the soldier’s countenance, that the landlord and his + people felt themselves for a moment touched with pity, as they gazed on + the tall veteran kneeling beside his dead horse. + </p> + <p> + But, when following the course of his regrets, he thought how Jovial had + also been the companion of his exile, how the mother of the orphans had + formerly (like her daughters) undertaken a toilsome journey with the aid + of this unfortunate animal, the fatal consequences of his loss presented + themselves on a sudden to his mind. Then, fury succeeding to grief, he + rose, with anger flashing from his eyes, and threw himself on the Prophet; + with one hand he seized him by the throat, and with the other administered + five or six heavy blows, which fell harmlessly on the coat of mail. + </p> + <p> + “Rascal! you shall answer to me for my horse’s death!” + said the soldier, as he continued his correction. Morok, light and sinewy, + could not struggle with advantage against Dagobert, who, aided by his tall + stature, still displayed extraordinary vigor. It needed the intervention + of Goliath and the landlord to rescue the Prophet from the hands of the + old grenadier. After some moments, they succeeded in separating the two + champions. Morok was white with rage. It needed new efforts to prevent his + seizing the pike to attack Dagobert. + </p> + <p> + “It is abominable!” cried the host, addressing the soldier, + who pressed his clinched fists in despair against his bald forehead. + “You expose this good man to be devoured by his beasts, and then you + wish to beat him into the bargain. Is this fitting conduct for a + graybeard? Shall we have to fetch the police? You showed yourself more + reasonable in the early part of the evening.” + </p> + <p> + These words recalled the soldier to himself. He regretted his impetuosity + the more, as the fact of his being a stranger might augment the difficulty + of his position. It was necessary above all to obtain the price of his + horse, so as to be enabled to continue his journey, the success of which + might be compromised by a single day’s delay. With a violent effort, + therefore, he succeeded in restraining his wrath. + </p> + <p> + “You are right—I was too hasty,” said he to the host, in + an agitated voice, which he tried to make as calm as possible. “I + had not the same patience as before. But ought not this man be responsible + for the loss of my horse? I make you judge in the matter.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, then, as judge, I am not of your opinion. All this has been + your own fault. You tied up your horse badly, and he strayed by chance + into this shed, of which no doubt the door was half-open,” said the + host, evidently taking the part of the brute-tamer. + </p> + <p> + “It was just as you say,” answered Goliath. “I can + remember it. I left the door ajar, that the beasts might have some air in + the night. The cages were well shut, and there was no danger.” + </p> + <p> + “Very true,” said one of the standers-by. + </p> + <p> + “It was only the sight of the horse,” added another, “that + made the panther furious, so as to break out of its cage.” + </p> + <p> + “It is the Prophet who has the most right to complain,” + observed a third. + </p> + <p> + “No matter what this or that person says,” returned Dagobert, + whose patience was beginning to fail him, “I say, that I must have + either money or a horse on the instant—yes, on the instant—for + I wish to quit this unlucky house.” + </p> + <p> + “And I say, it is you that must indemnify me,” cried Morok, + who had kept this stage-trick for the last, and who now exhibited his left + hand all bloody, having hitherto concealed it beneath the sleeve of his + pelisse. “I shall perhaps be disabled for life,” he added; + “see what a wound the panther has made here!” + </p> + <p> + Without having the serious character that the Prophet ascribed to it, the + wound was a pretty deep one. This last argument gained for him the general + sympathy. Reckoning no doubt upon this incident, to secure the winning of + a cause that he now regarded as his own, the host said to the hostler: + “There is only one way to make a finish. It is to call up the + burgomaster, and beg him to step here. He will decide who is right or + wrong.” + </p> + <p> + “I was just going to propose it to you,” said the soldier, + “for, after all, I cannot take the law into my own hands.” + </p> + <p> + “Fritz, run to the burgomaster’s!”—and the hustler + started in all haste. His master, fearing to be compromised by the + examination of the soldier, whose papers he had neglected to ask for on + his arrival, said to him: “The burgomaster will be in a very bad + humor, to be disturbed so late. I have no wish to suffer by it, and I must + therefore beg you to go and fetch me your papers, to see if they are in + rule. I ought to have made you show them, when you arrived here in the + evening.” + </p> + <p> + “They are upstairs in my knapsack; you shall have them,” + answered the soldier—and turning away his head, and putting his hand + before his eyes, as he passed the dead body of Jovial, he went out to + rejoin the sisters. + </p> + <p> + The Prophet followed him with a glance of triumph, and said to himself: + “There he goes!—without horse, without money, without papers. + I could not do more—for I was forbidden to do more—I was to + act with as much cunning as possible and preserve appearances. Now every + one will think this soldier in the wrong. I can at least answer for it, + that he will not continue his journey for some days—since such great + interests appear to depend on his arrest, and that of the young girls.” + </p> + <p> + A quarter of an hour after this reflection of the brute-tamer, Karl, + Goliath’s comrade, left the hiding-place where his master had + concealed him during the evening, and set out for Leipsic, with a letter + which Morok had written in haste, and which Karl, on his arrival, was to + put immediately into the post. + </p> + <p> + The address of this letter was as follows: + </p> + <p> + “A Monsieur Rodin, Rue du Milieu-des-Ursins, No, 11, A Paris, + France.” + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:65%;"> + <img src="images/10139m.jpg" alt="10139m " width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/10139.jpg"><i>Original</i></a> + </h5> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0012" id="link2HCH0012"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XII. THE BURGOMASTER. + </h2> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">D</span>agobert’s + anxiety increased every moment. Certain that his horse had not entered the + shed of its own accord, he attributed the event which had taken place to + the spite of the brute-tamer; but he sought in vain for the motive of this + wretch’s animosity, and he reflected with dismay, that his cause, + however just, would depend on the good or bad humor of a judge dragged + from his slumbers and who might be ready to condemn upon fallacious + appearances. + </p> + <p> + Fully determined to conceal, as long as possible, from the orphans the + fresh misfortunes, which had befallen them, he was proceeding to open the + door of their chamber, when he stumbled over Spoil-sport—for the dog + had run back to his post, after vainly trying to prevent the Prophet from + leading away Jovial. “Luckily the dog has returned; the poor little + things have been well guarded,” said the soldier, as he opened the + door. To his great surprise, the room was in utter darkness. + </p> + <p> + “My children,” cried he, “why are you without a light?” + There was no answer. In terror he groped his way to the bed, and took the + hand of one of the sisters; the hand was cold as ice. + </p> + <p> + “Rose, my children!” cried he. “Blanche! Give me some + answer! you frighten me.” Still the same silence continued; the hand + which he held remained cold and powerless, and yielded passively to his + touch. + </p> + <p> + Just then, the moon emerged from the black clouds that surrounded her, and + threw sufficient light into the little room, and upon the bed, which faced + the window, for the soldier to see that the two sisters had fainted. The + bluish light of the moon added to the paleness of the orphans; they held + each other in a half embrace, and Rose had buried her head on Blanche’s + bosom. + </p> + <p> + “They must have fainted through fear,” exclaimed Dagobert, + running to fetch his gourd. “Poor things! after a day of so much + excitement, it is not surprising.” And moistening the corner of a + handkerchief with a few drops of brandy, the soldier knelt beside the bed, + gently chafed the temples of the two sisters, and held the linen, wet with + the spirituous liquor, to their little pink nostrils. + </p> + <p> + Still on his knees, and bending his dark, anxious face over the orphans, + he waited some moments before again resorting to the only restorative in + his power. A slight shiver of Rose gave him renewed hope; the young girl + turned her head on the pillow with a sigh; then she started, and opened + her eyes with an expression of astonishment and alarm; but, not + immediately recognizing Dagobert, she exclaimed: “Oh, sister!” + and threw herself into the arms of Blanche. + </p> + <p> + The latter also was beginning to experience the effect of the soldier’s + care. The exclamation of Rose completely roused her from her lethargy, and + she clung to her sister, again sharing the fright without knowing its + cause. + </p> + <p> + “They’ve come to—that’s the chief point,” + said Dagobert, “now we shall soon get rid of these foolish fears.” + Then softening his voice, he added: “Well, my children, courage? You + are better. It is I who am here—me, Dagobert!” + </p> + <p> + The orphans made a hasty movement, and, turning towards the soldier their + sweet faces, which were still full of dismay and agitation, they both, by + a graceful impulse, extended their arms to him and cried: “It is + you, Dagobert—then we are safe!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, my children, it is I,” said the veteran, taking their + hands in his, and pressing them joyfully. “So you have been much + frightened during my absence?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, frightened to death!” + </p> + <p> + “If you knew—oh, goodness! if you knew—” + </p> + <p> + “But the lamp is extinguished—why is that?” + </p> + <p> + “We did not do it.” + </p> + <p> + “Come—recover yourselves, poor children, and tell me all about + it. I have no good opinion of this inn; but, luckily, we shall soon leave + it. It was an ill wind that blew me hither—though, to be sure, there + was no other in the village. But what has happened?” + </p> + <p> + “You were hardly gone, when the window flew open violently, and the + lamp and table fell together with a loud crash.” + </p> + <p> + “Then our courage failed—we screamed and clasped each other, + for we thought we could hear some one moving in the room.” + </p> + <p> + “And we were so frightened, that we fainted away.” + </p> + <p> + Unfortunately, persuaded that it was the violence of the wind which had + already broken the glass, and shaken the window, Dagobert attributed this + second accident to the same cause as the first, thinking that he had not + properly secured the fastening and that the orphans had been deceived by a + false alarm. “Well, well—it is over now,” said he to + them: “Calm yourselves, and don’t think of it any more.” + </p> + <p> + “But why did you leave us so hastily, Dagobert?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, now I remember—did we not hear a great noise, sister, + and see Dagobert run to the staircase, crying: ‘My horse! what are + they doing to my horse?’” + </p> + <p> + “It was then Jovial who neighed?” + </p> + <p> + These questions renewed the anguish of the soldier; he feared to answer + them, and said, with a confused air: “Yes—Jovial neighed—but + it was nothing. By the by, we must have a light here. Do you know where I + put my flint and steel last evening? Well, I have lost my senses; it is + here in my pocket. Luckily, too, we have a candle, which I am going to + light; I want to look in my knapsack for some papers I require.” + </p> + <p> + Dagobert struck a few sparks, obtained a light, and saw that the window + was indeed open, the table thrown down, and the lamp lying by the side of + the knapsack. He shut the window, set the little table on its feet again, + placed the knapsack upon it, and began to unbuckle this last in order to + take out his portfolio, which had been deposited along with his cross and + purse, in a kind of pocket between the outside and the lining. The straps + had been readjusted with so much care, that there was no appearance of the + knapsack having been disturbed; but when the soldier plunged his hand into + the pocket above-mentioned, he found it empty. Struck with consternation, + he grew pale, and retreated a step, crying: “How is this?—Nothing!” + </p> + <p> + “What is the matter?” said Blanche. He made her no answer. + Motionless, he leaned against the table, with his hand still buried in the + pocket. Then, yielding to a vague hope—for so cruel a reality did + not appear possible—he hastily emptied the contents of the knapsack + on the table—his poor half-worn clothes—his old uniform-coat + of the horse-grenadiers of the Imperial Guard, a sacred relic for the + soldiers—but, turn and return them as he would, he found neither his + purse, nor the portfolio that contained his papers, the letters of General + Simon, and his cross. + </p> + <p> + In vain, with that serious childishness which always accompanies a + hopeless search, he took the knapsack by the two ends, and shook it + vigorously; nothing came out. The orphans looked on with uneasiness, not + understanding his silence or his movements, for his back was turned to + them. Blanche ventured to say to him in a timid voice: “What ails + you—you don’t answer us.—What is it you are looking for + in your knapsack?” + </p> + <p> + Still mute, Dagobert searched his own person, turned out all his pockets—nothing!—For + the first time in his life, perhaps, his two children, as he called them, + had spoken to him without receiving a reply. Blanche and Rose felt the big + tears start into their eyes; thinking that the soldier was angry, they + darst not again address him. + </p> + <p> + “No, no! it is impossible—no!” said the veteran, + pressing his hand to his forehead, and seeking in his memory where he + might have put those precious objects, the loss of which he could not yet + bring himself to believe. A sudden beam of joy flashed from his eyes. He + ran to a chair, and took from it the portmanteau of the orphans; it + contained a little linen, two black dresses, and a small box of white + wood, in which were a silk handkerchief that had belonged to their mother, + two locks of her hair, and a black ribbon she had worn round her neck. The + little she possessed had been seized by the Russian government, in + pursuance of the confiscation. Dagobert searched and researched every + article—peeped into all the corners of the portmanteau—still + nothing! + </p> + <p> + This time, completely worn out, leaning against the table, the strong, + energetic man felt himself giving way. His face was burning, yet bathed in + a cold sweat; his knees trembled under him. It is a common saying, that + drowning men will catch at straws; and so it is with the despair that + still clings to some shred of hope. Catching at a last chance—absurd, + insane, impossible—he turned abruptly towards the orphans, and said + to them, without considering the alteration in his voice and features: + “I did not give them to you—to keep for me?—speak?” + </p> + <p> + Instead of answering, Rose and Blanche, terrified at his paleness and the + expression of his countenance, uttered a cry. “Good heavens! what is + the matter with you?” murmured Rose. + </p> + <p> + “Have you got them—yes, or no?” cried in a voice of + thunder the unfortunate, distracted man. “If you have not—I’ll + take the first knife I meet with, and stick it into my body!” + </p> + <p> + “Alas! You are so good: pardon us if we have done anything to + afflict you! You love us so much, you would not do us any harm.” The + orphans began to weep, as they stretched forth their hands in supplication + towards the soldier. + </p> + <p> + He looked at them with haggard eye, without even seeing them; till, as the + delusion passed away, the reality presented itself to his mind with all + its terrible consequences. Then he clasped his hands together, fell on his + knees before the bed of the orphans, leaned his forehead upon it, and amid + his convulsive sobs—for the man of iron sobbed like a child—these + broken words were audible: “Forgive me—forgive!—I do not + know how it can be!—Oh! what a misfortune!—what a misfortune!—Forgive + me!” + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:65%;"> + <img src="images/10121m.jpg" alt="10121m " width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/10121.jpg"><i>Original</i></a> + </h5> + <p> + At this outbreak of grief, the cause of which they understood not, but + which in such a man was heart-rending, the two sisters wound their arms + about his old gray head, and exclaimed amid their tears: “Look at + us! Only tell us what is the matter with you?—Is it our fault?” + </p> + <p> + At this instant, the noise of footsteps resounded from the stairs, mingled + with the barking of Spoil-sport, who had remained outside the door. The + nearer the steps approached, the more furious became the barking; it was + no doubt accompanied with hostile demonstrations, for the host was heard + to cry out in an angry tone: “Hollo! you there! Call off your dog, + or speak to him. It is Mr. Burgomaster who is coming up.” + </p> + <p> + “Dagobert—do you hear?—it is the burgomaster,” + said Rose. + </p> + <p> + “They are coming upstairs—a number of people,” resumed + Blanche. + </p> + <p> + The word burgomaster recalled whatever had happened to the mind of + Dagobert, and completed, so to express it, the picture of his terrible + position. His horse was dead, he had neither papers nor money, and a day, + a single day’s detention, might defeat the last hope of the sisters, + and render useless this long and toilsome journey. + </p> + <p> + Men of strong minds, and the veteran was of the number, prefer great + perils, positions of danger accurately defined, to the vague anxieties + which precede a settled misfortune. Guided by his good sense and admirable + devotion, Dagobert understood at once, that his only resource was now in + the justice of the burgomaster, and that all his efforts should tend to + conciliate the favor of that magistrate. He therefore dried his eyes with + the sheet, rose from the ground, erect, calm, and resolute, and said to + the orphans: “Fear nothing, my children; it is our deliverer who is + at hand.” + </p> + <p> + “Will you call off your dog or no?” cried the host, still + detained on the stairs by Spoil-sport, who, as a vigilant sentinel, + continued to dispute the passage. “Is the animal mad, I say? Why don’t + you tie him up? Have you not caused trouble enough in my house? I tell + you, that Mr. Burgomaster is waiting to examine you in your turn, for he + has finished with Morok.” + </p> + <p> + Dagobert drew his fingers through his gray locks and across his moustache, + clasped the collar of his top-coat, and brushed the sleeves with his hand, + in order to give himself the best appearance possible; for he felt that + the fate of the orphans must depend on his interview with the magistrate. + It was not without a violent beating of the heart, that he laid his hand + upon the door-knob, saying to the young girls, who were growing more and + more frightened by such a succession of events: “Hide yourselves in + your bed, my children; if any one must needs enter, it shall be the + burgomaster alone.” + </p> + <p> + Thereupon, opening the door, the soldier stepped out on the landing place, + and said: “Down, Spoil-sport!—Here!” + </p> + <p> + The dog obeyed, but with manifest repugnance. His master had to speak + twice, before he would abstain from all hostile movements towards the + host. This latter, with a lantern in one hand and his cap in the other, + respectfully preceded the burgomaster, whose magisterial proportions were + lost in the half shadows of the staircase. Behind the judge, and a few + steps lower, the inquisitive faces of the people belonging to the inn were + dimly visible by the light of another lantern. + </p> + <p> + Dagobert, having turned the dog into the room, shut the door after him, + and advanced two steps on the landing-place, which was sufficiently + spacious to hold several persons, and had in one corner a wooden bench + with a back to it. The burgomaster, as he ascended the last stair, was + surprised to see Dagobert close the door of the chamber, as though he + wished to forbid his entrance. “Why do you shut that door?” + asked he in an abrupt tone. + </p> + <p> + “First, because two girls, whom I have the charge of, are in bed in + that room; secondly, because your examination would alarm them,” + replied Dagobert. “Sit down upon this bench, Mr. Burgomaster, and + examine me here; it will not make any difference, I should think.” + </p> + <p> + “And by what right,” asked the judge, with a displeased air, + “do you pretend to dictate to me the place of your examination?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I have no such pretension, Mr. Burgomaster!” said the + soldier hastily, fearing above all things to prejudice the judge against + him: “only, as the girls are in bed, and already much frightened, it + would be a proof of your good heart to examine me where I am.” + </p> + <p> + “Humph!” said the magistrate, with ill-humor; “a pretty + state of things, truly!—It was much worth while to disturb me in the + middle of the night. But, come, so be it; I will examine you here.” + Then, turning to the landlord, he added: “Put your lantern upon this + bench, and leave us.” + </p> + <p> + The innkeeper obeyed, and went down, followed by his people, as + dissatisfied as they were at being excluded from the examination. The + veteran was left alone with the magistrate. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0013" id="link2HCH0013"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIII. THE JUDGEMENT. + </h2> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>he worthy + burgomaster of Mockern wore a cloth cap, and was enveloped in a cloak. He + sat down heavily on the bench. He was a corpulent man, about sixty, with + an arrogant, morose countenance; and he frequently rubbed with his red, + fat fist, eyes that were still swollen and blood shot, from his having + been suddenly roused from sleep. + </p> + <p> + Dagobert stood bareheaded before him, with a submissive, respectful air, + holding his old foraging cap in his hands, and trying to read in the + sullen physiognomy of his judge what chance there might be to interest him + in his favor—that is, in favor of the orphans. + </p> + <p> + In this critical juncture, the poor soldier summoned to his aid all his + presence of mind, reason, eloquence and resolution. He, who had twenty + times braved death with the utmost coolness—who, calm and serene, + because sincere and tried, had never quailed before the eagle-glance of + the Emperor, his hero and idol—now felt himself disconcerted and + trembling before the ill-humored face of a village burgomaster. Even so, a + few hours before, he had submitted, impassive and resigned, to the insults + of the Prophet—that he might not compromise the sacred mission with + which a dying mother had entrusted him—thus showing to what a height + of heroic abnegation it is possible for a simple and honest heart to + attain. + </p> + <p> + “What have you to say in your justification? Come, be quick!” + said the judge roughly, with a yawn of impatience. + </p> + <p> + “I have not got to justify myself—I have to make a complaint, + Mr. Burgomaster,” replied Dagobert in a firm voice. + </p> + <p> + “Do you think you are to teach me in what terms I am to put my + questions?” exclaimed the magistrate, in so sharp a tone that the + soldier reproached himself with having begun the interview so badly. + Wishing to pacify his judge, he made haste to answer with submission: + </p> + <p> + “Pardon me, Mr. Burgomaster, I have ill-explained my meaning. I only + wished to say that I was not wrong in this affair.” + </p> + <p> + “The Prophet says the contrary.” + </p> + <p> + “The Prophet?” repeated the soldier, with an air of doubt. + </p> + <p> + “The Prophet is a pious and honest man,” resumed the judge, + “incapable of falsehood.” + </p> + <p> + “I cannot say anything upon that subject; but you are too just, and + have too good a heart, Mr. Burgomaster, to condemn without hearing me. It + is not a man like you that would do an injustice; oh, one can see that at + a glance!” + </p> + <p> + In resigning himself thus to play the part of a courtier, Dagobert + softened as much as possible his gruff voice, and strove to give to his + austere countenance a smiling, agreeable, and flattering expression. + “A man like you,” he added, with redoubled suavity of manner, + “a respectable judge like you, never shuts his ears to one side or + the other.” + </p> + <p> + “Ears are not in question, but eyes; and, though mine smart as if I + had rubbed them with nettles, I have seen the hand of the brute-tamer, + with a frightful wound on it.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Mr. Burgomaster, it is very true; but consider, if he had shut + his cages and his door, all this would not have happened.” + </p> + <p> + “Not so; it is your fault. You should have fastened your horse + securely to the manger.” + </p> + <p> + “You are right, Mr. Burgomaster, certainly, you are right,” + said the soldier, in a still more affable and conciliating voice. “It + is not for a poor devil like me to contradict you. But supposing my horse + was let loose out of pure malice, in order that he might stray into the + menagerie—you will then acknowledge that it was not my fault. That + is, you will acknowledge it if you think fit,” hastily added the + soldier “I have no right to dictate to you in anything.” + </p> + <p> + “And why the devil should any one do you this ill-turn?” + </p> + <p> + “I do not know, Mr. Burgomaster—but—” + </p> + <p> + “You do not know—well, nor I either,” said the + burgomaster impatiently. “Zounds! what a many words about the + carcass of an old horse!” + </p> + <p> + The countenance of the soldier, losing on a sudden its expression of + forced suavity, became once more severe; he answered in a grave voice, + full of emotion: “My horse is dead—he is no more than a + carcass—that is true; but an hour ago, though very old, he was full + of life and intelligence. He neighed joyously at my voice—and, every + evening, he licked the hands of the two poor children, whom he had carried + all the day—as formerly he had carried their mother. Now he will + never carry any one again; they will throw him to the dogs, and all will + be finished. You need not have reminded me harshly of it, Mr. Burgomaster—for + I loved my horse!” + </p> + <p> + By these words, pronounced with noble and touching simplicity, the + burgomaster was moved in spite of himself, and regretted his hasty speech. + “It is natural that you should be sorry for your horse,” said + he, in a less impatient tone; “but what is to be done?—It is a + misfortune.” + </p> + <p> + “A misfortune?—Yes, Mr. Burgomaster, a very great misfortune. + The girls, who accompany me, were too weak to undertake a long journey on + foot, too poor to travel in a carriage—and yet we have to arrive in + Paris before the month of February. When their mother died, I promised her + to take them to France, for these children have only me to take care of + them.” + </p> + <p> + “You are then their—” + </p> + <p> + “I am their faithful servant, Mr. Burgomaster; and now that my horse + has been killed, what can I do for them? Come, you are good, you have + perhaps children of your own; if, one day, they should find themselves in + the position of my two little orphans—with no wealth, no resources + in the world, but an old soldier who loves them, and an old horse to carry + them along—if, after being very unfortunate from their birth—yes, + very unfortunate, for my orphans are the daughters of exiles—they + should see happiness before them at the end of a journey, and then, by the + death of their horse, that journey become impossible—tell me, Mr. + Burgomaster, if this would not touch your heart? Would you not find, as I + do, that the loss of my horse is irreparable?” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly,” answered the burgomaster, who was not ill natured + at bottom, and who could not help taking part in Dagobert’s emotion; + “I now understand the importance of the loss you have suffered. And + then your orphans interest me: how old are they?” + </p> + <p> + “Fifteen years and two months. They are twins.” + </p> + <p> + “Fifteen years and two months—that is about the age of my + Frederica.” + </p> + <p> + “You have a young lady of that age?” cried Dagobert, once more + awaking to hope; “ah, Mr. Burgomaster! I am really no longer uneasy + about my poor children. You will do us justice.” + </p> + <p> + “To do justice is my duty. After all, in this affair, the faults are + about equal on both sides. You tied up your horse badly, and the brute + tamer left his door open. He says: ‘I am wounded in the hand.’ + You answer: ‘My horse has been killed—and, for a thousand + reasons, the loss of my horse is irreparable.’” + </p> + <p> + “You make me speak better than I could ever speak on my own account, + Mr. Burgomaster,” said the soldier, with a humble, insinuating + smile; “but ‘tis what I meant to express—and, as you say + yourself, Mr. Burgomaster, my horse being my whole fortune, it is only + fair—” + </p> + <p> + “Exactly so,” resumed the magistrate, interrupting the + soldier; “your reasons are excellent. The Prophet—who is a + good and pious man with all has related the facts to me in his own way; + and then, you see, he is an old acquaintance. We are nearly all zealous + Catholics here, and he sells to our wives such cheap and edifying little + books, with chaplets and amulets of the best manufacture, at less than the + prime cost. All this, you will say, has nothing to do with the affair; and + you will be right in saying so: still I must needs confess that I came + here with the intention—” + </p> + <p> + “Of deciding against me, eh, Mr. Burgomaster?” said Dagobert, + gaining more and more confidence. “You see, you were not quite + awake, and your justice had only one eye open.” + </p> + <p> + “Really, master soldier,” answered the judge with good humor, + “it is not unlikely; for I did not conceal from Morok that I gave it + in his favor. Then he said to me (very generously, by the way): ‘Since + you condemn my adversary, I will not aggravate his position by telling you + certain things—‘” + </p> + <p> + “What! against me?” + </p> + <p> + “Apparently so; but, like a generous enemy, when I told him that I + should most likely condemn you to pay him damages, he said no more about + it. For I will not hide from you, that, before I heard your reasons, I + fully intended that you should make compensation for the Prophet’s + wound.” + </p> + <p> + “See, Mr. Burgomaster, how the most just and able persons are + subject to be deceived,” said Dagobert, becoming once more the + courtier; then, trying to assume a prodigiously knowing look, he added: + “But such persons find out the truth at last, and are not to be made + dupes of, whatever prophets may say.” + </p> + <p> + This poor attempt at a jest—the first and only one, perhaps, that + Dagobert had ever been guilty of—will show the extremity to which he + was reduced, and the desperate efforts of all kinds he was making to + conciliate the good graces of his judge. The burgomaster did not at first + see the pleasantry; he was only led to perceive it by the self satisfied + mien of Dagobert, and by his inquiring glance, which seemed to say: + “Is it not good, eh?—I am astonished at it myself.” + </p> + <p> + The magistrate began, therefore, to smile with a patronizing air, and, + nodding his head, replied in the same jocular spirit: “Ha! Ha! Ha! + You are right; the Prophet is out in his prophecy. You shall not pay him + any damages. The faults on both sides are equal, and the injuries balance + one another. He has been wounded, your horse has been killed; so you may + cry quits, and have done with it.” + </p> + <p> + “But how much then, do you think he owes me?” asked the + soldier, with singular simplicity. + </p> + <p> + “How much?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Mr. Burgomaster, what sum will he have to pay me? Yes—but, + before you decide, I must tell you one thing, Mr. Burgomaster. I think I + shall be entitled to spend only part of the money in buying a horse. I am + sure, that, in the environs of Leipsic, I could get a beast very cheap + from some of the peasants; and, between ourselves, I will own to you, + that, if I could meet with only a nice little donkey—I should not be + over particular—I should even like it just as well; for, after my + poor Jovial, the company of another horse would be painful to me. I must + also tell you—” + </p> + <p> + “Hey-day!” cried the burgomaster, interrupting Dagobert, + “of what money, what donkey, and what other horse are you talking? I + tell you, that you owe nothing to the Prophet, and that he owes you + nothing!” + </p> + <p> + “He owes me nothing?” + </p> + <p> + “You are very dull of comprehension, my good man. I repeat, that, if + the Prophet’s animals have killed your horse, the Prophet himself + has been badly wounded; so you may cry quits. In other words, you owe him + nothing, and he owes you nothing. Now do you understand?” + </p> + <p> + Dagobert, confounded, remained for some moments without answering, whilst + he looked at the burgomaster with an expression of deep anguish. He saw + that his judgment would again destroy all his hopes. + </p> + <p> + “But, Mr. Burgomaster,” resumed he, in an agitated voice, + “you are too just not to pay attention to one thing: the wound of + the brute-tamer does not prevent him from continuing his trade; the death + of my horse prevents me from continuing my journey; therefore, he ought to + indemnify me.” + </p> + <p> + The judge considered he had already done a good deal for Dagobert, in not + making him responsible for the wound of the Prophet, who, as we have + already said, exercised a certain influence over the Catholics of the + country by the sale of his devotional treasures, and also from its being + known that he was supported by some persons of eminence. The soldier’s + pertinacity, therefore, offended the magistrate, who, reassuming his lofty + air, replied, in a chilling tone: “You will make me repent my + impartiality. How is this? Instead of thanking me, you ask for more.” + </p> + <p> + “But, Mr. Burgomaster, I ask only for what is just. I wish I were + wounded in the hand, like the Prophet, so that I could but continue my + journey.” + </p> + <p> + “We are not talking of what you wish. I have pronounced sentence—there + is no more to say.” + </p> + <p> + “But, Mr. Burgomaster—” + </p> + <p> + “Enough, enough. Let us go to the next subject. Your papers?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, we will speak about my papers; but I beg of you, Mr. + Burgomaster, to have pity on those two children. Let us have the means to + continue our journey, and—” + </p> + <p> + “I have done all I could for you—perhaps, more than I ought. + Once again, your papers!” + </p> + <p> + “I must first explain to you—” + </p> + <p> + “No! No explanation—your papers!—Or would you like me to + have you arrested as a vagabond?” + </p> + <p> + “Me—-arrested!” + </p> + <p> + “I tell you that, if you refuse to show me your papers, it will be + as if you had none. Now, those people who have no papers we take into + custody till the authorities can dispose of them. Let me see your papers, + and make haste!—I am in a hurry to get home.” + </p> + <p> + Dagobert’s position was the more distressing, as for a moment he had + indulged in sanguine hope. The last blow was now added to all the veteran + had suffered since the commencement of this scene, which was a cruel as + well as dangerous trial, for a man of his character—upright, but + obstinate—faithful, but rough and absolute—a man who, for a + long time a soldier, and a victorious one, had acquired a certain despotic + mariner of treating with civilians. + </p> + <p> + At these words—“your papers,” Dagobert became very pale; + but he tried to conceal his anguish beneath an air of assurance, which he + thought best calculated to gain the magistrate’s good opinion. + “I will tell you all about it, Mr. Burgomaster,” said he. + “Nothing can be clearer. Such a thing might happen to any one. I do + not look like a beggar and a vagabond, do I? And yet—you will + understand, that an honest man who travels with two young girls—” + </p> + <p> + “No more words! Your papers!” + </p> + <p> + At this juncture two powerful auxiliaries arrived to the soldier’s + aid. The orphans, growing more and more uneasy, and hearing Dagobert still + talking upon the landing-place, had risen and dressed themselves; so that + just at the instant, when the magistrate said in a rough voice—“No + more words! Your papers!”—Rose and Blanche holding each other + by the hand, came forth from the chamber. + </p> + <p> + At sight of those charming faces, which their poor mourning vestments only + rendered more interesting, the burgomaster rose from his seat, struck with + surprise and admiration. By a spontaneous movement, each sister took a + hand of Dagobert, and pressed close to him, whilst they regarded the + magistrate with looks of mingled anxiety and candor. + </p> + <p> + It was so touching a picture, this of the old soldier presenting as it + were to his judge the graceful children, with countenances full of + innocence and beauty, that the burgomaster, by a sudden reaction, found + himself once more disposed to sentiments of pity. Dagobert perceived it; + and, still holding the orphans by the hand, he advanced towards him, and + said in a feeling voice: “Look at these poor children, Mr. + Burgomaster! Could I show you a better passport?” And, overcome by + so many painful sensations—restrained, yet following each other in + quick succession—Dagobert felt, in spite of himself, that the tears + were starting to his eyes. + </p> + <p> + Though naturally rough, and rendered still more testy by the interruption + of his sleep, the burgomaster was not quite deficient in sense of feeling. + He perceived at once, that a man thus accompanied, ought not to inspire + any great distrust. “Poor dear children!” said he, as he + examined them with growing interest; “orphans so young, and they + come from far—” + </p> + <p> + “From the heart of Siberia, Mr. Burgomaster, where their mother was + an exile before their birth. It is now more than five months that we have + been travelling on by short stages—hard enough, you will say, for + children of their age. It is for them that I ask your favor and support + for them against whom everything seems to combine to-day for, only just + now, when I went to look for my papers, I could not find in my knapsack + the portfolio in which they were, along with my purse and cross—for + you must know, Mr. Burgomaster—pardon me, if I say it—‘tis + not from vain glory—but I was decorated by the hand of the Emperor; + and a man whom he decorated with his own hand, you see, could not be so + bad a fellow, though he may have had the misfortune to lose his papers—and + his purse. That’s what has happened to me, and made me so pressing + about the damages.” + </p> + <p> + “How and where did you suffer this loss?” + </p> + <p> + “I do not know, Mr. Burgomaster; I am sure that the evening before + last, at bed-time, I took a little money out of the purse, and saw the + portfolio in its place; yesterday I had small change sufficient, and did + not undo the knapsack.” + </p> + <p> + “And where then has the knapsack been kept?” + </p> + <p> + “In the room occupied by the children: but this night—” + </p> + <p> + Dagobert was here interrupted by the tread of some one mounting the + stairs: it was the Prophet. Concealed in the shadow of the staircase, he + had listened to this conversation, and he dreaded lest the weakness of the + burgomaster should mar the complete success of his projects. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0014" id="link2HCH0014"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIV. THE DECISION. + </h2> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">M</span>orok, who wore his + left arm in a sling, having slowly ascended the staircase, saluted the + burgomaster respectfully. At sight of the repulsive countenance of the + lion-tamer, Rose and Blanche, affrighted, drew back a step nearer to the + soldier. The brow of the latter grew dark, for he felt his blood boil + against Morok, the cause of all his difficulties—though he was yet + ignorant that Goliath, at the instigation of the Prophet, had stolen his + portfolio and papers. + </p> + <p> + “What did you want, Morok?” said the burgomaster, with an air + half friendly and half displeased. “I told the landlord that I did + not wish to be interrupted.” + </p> + <p> + “I have come to render you a service, Mr. Burgomaster.” + </p> + <p> + “A service?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, a great service; or I should not have ventured to disturb you. + My conscience reproaches me.” + </p> + <p> + “Your conscience.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Mr. Burgomaster, it reproaches me for not having told you all + that I had to tell about this man; a false pity led me astray.” + </p> + <p> + “Yell, but what have you to tell?” + </p> + <p> + Morok approached the judge, and spoke to him for sometime in a low voice. + </p> + <p> + At first apparently much astonished, the burgomaster became by degrees + deeply attentive and anxious; every now and then be allowed some + exclamation of surprise or doubt to escape him, whilst he glanced covertly + at the group formed by Dagobert and the two young girls. By the expression + of his countenance, which grew every moment more unquiet, severe, and + searching, it was easy to perceive that the interest which the magistrate + had felt for the orphans and for the soldier, was gradually changed, by + the secret communications of the Prophet, into a sentiment of distrust and + hostility. + </p> + <p> + Dagobert saw this sudden revolution, and his fears, which had been + appeased for an instant, returned with redoubled force; Rose and Blanche, + confused, and not understanding the object of this mute scene, looked at + the soldier with increased perplexity. + </p> + <p> + “The devil!” said the burgomaster, rising abruptly; “all + of this never occurred to me. What could I have been thinking of?—But + you see, Morok, when one is roused up in the middle of the night, one has + not always presence of mind. You said well: it is a great service you came + to render me.” + </p> + <p> + “I assert nothing positively, but—” + </p> + <p> + “No matter; ‘tis a thousand to one that you are right.” + </p> + <p> + “It is only a suspicion founded upon divers circumstances; but even + a suspicion—” + </p> + <p> + “May give you scent of the truth. And here was I, going like a gull + into the snare!—Once more, what could I have been thinking of?” + </p> + <p> + “It is so difficult to be on guard against certain appearances.” + </p> + <p> + “You need not tell me so, my dear Morok, you need not tell me so.” + </p> + <p> + During this mysterious conversation, Dagobert was on thorns; he saw + vaguely that a violent storm was about to burst. He thought only of how he + should still keep his anger within bounds. + </p> + <p> + Morok again approached the judge, and glancing at the orphans, recommenced + speaking in a low voice. “Oh” cried the burgomaster, with, + indignation, “you go too far now.” + </p> + <p> + “I affirm nothing,” said Morok, hastily; “it is a mere + supposition founded on—” and he again brought his lips close + to the ear of the judge. + </p> + <p> + “After all, why not?” resumed the magistrate, lifting up his + hands; “such people are capable of anything. He says that he brings + them from the heart of Siberia: why may not all this prove to be a tissue + of impudent falsehoods?—But I am not to be made a dupe twice,” + cried the burgomaster, in an angry tone, for, like all persons of a weak + and shifting character, he was without pity for those whom he thought + capable of having beguiled his compassion. + </p> + <p> + “Do not be in a hurry to decide—don’t give to my words + more weight than they deserve,” resumed Morok with a hypocritical + affectation of humility. “I am unhappily placed in so false a + position with regard to this man,”—pointing to Dagober—“that + I might be thought to have acted from private resentment for the injury he + has done me; perhaps I may so act without knowing it, while I fancy that I + am only influenced by love of justice, horror of falsehood, and respect + for our holy religion. Well—who lives long enough will know—and + may heaven forgive me if I am deceived!—In any case, the law will + pronounce upon it; and if they should prove innocent, they will be + released in a month or two.” + </p> + <p> + “And, for that reason, I need not hesitate. It is a mere measure of + precaution; they will not die of it. Besides, the more I think of it, the + more it seems probable. Yes this man is doubtless a French spy or + agitator, especially when I compare these suspicions with the late + demonstration of the students at Frankfort.” + </p> + <p> + “And, upon that theory, nothing is better fitted to excite and stir + up those hot-headed youths than—” He glanced significantly at + the two sisters; then, after a pause, he added with a sigh, “Satan + does not care by what means he works out his ends!” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly, it would be odious, but well-devised.” + </p> + <p> + “And then, Mr Burgomaster, look at him attentively: you will see + that this man has a dangerous face. You will see—” + </p> + <p> + In continuing thus to speak in a low tone, Morok had evidently pointed to + Dagobert. The latter, notwithstanding his self-command, felt that the + restraint he had imposed upon himself, since his arrival at this unlucky + inn, and above all wince the commencement of the conversation between + Morok and the burgomaster, was becoming no longer bearable; besides, he + saw clearly that all his efforts to conciliate the favor of the judge were + rendered completely null by the fatal influence of the brute-tamer; so, + losing patience, he advanced towards him with his arms folded on his + breast, and said to him in a subdued voice: “Was it of me that you + were whispering to Mr. Burgomaster?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Morok, looking fixedly at him. + </p> + <p> + “Why did you not speak out loud?” Having said this, the almost + convulsive movement of his thick moustache, as he stood looping Morok full + in the face, gave evidence of a severe internal conflict. Seeing that his + adversary preserved a contemptuous silence, he repeated in a sterner + voice: “I ask you, why you did not speak out loud to Mr. + Burgomaster, when you were talking of me?” + </p> + <p> + “Because there are some things so shameful, that one would blush to + utter them aloud,” answered Morok insolently. + </p> + <p> + Till then Dagobert had kept his arms folded; he now extended them + violently, clenching his fists. This sudden movement was so expressive + that the two sisters uttered a cry of terror, and drew closer to him. + </p> + <p> + “Hark ye, Mr. Burgomaster!” said the soldier, grinding his + teeth with rage: “bid that man go down, or I will not answer for + myself!” + </p> + <p> + “What!” said the burgomaster, haughtily; “do you dare to + give orders to me?” + </p> + <p> + “I tell you to make that man go down,” resumed Dagobert, quite + beside himself, “or there will be mischief!” + </p> + <p> + “Dagobert!—good heaven!—be calm,” cried the + children, grasping his hands. + </p> + <p> + “It becomes you, certainly—miserable vagabond that you are—not + to say worse,” returned the burgomaster, in a rage: “it + becomes you to give orders to me!—Oh! you think to impose upon me, + by telling me you have lost your papers!—It will not serve your + turn, for which you carry about with you these two girls, who, in spite of + their innocent looks, are perhaps after all—” + </p> + <p> + “Wretch!” cried Dagobert, with so terrible a voice and gesture + that the official did not dare to finish. Taking the children by the arm + before they could speak a word, the soldier pushed them back into the + chamber; then, locking the door, and putting the key into his pocket, he + returned precipitately towards the burgomaster, who, frightened at the + menacing air and attitude of the veteran, retreated a couple of steps, and + held by one hand to the rail of the staircase. + </p> + <p> + “Listen to me!” said the soldier, seizing the judge by the + arm. “Just now, that scoundrel insulted me—I bore with it—for + it only concerned myself. I have heard patiently all your idle talk, + because you seemed for a moment to interest yourself in those poor + children. But since you have neither soul, nor pity, nor justice—I + tell you that, burgomaster though you are—I will spurn you as I + would spurn that dog,” pointing again to the Prophet, “if you + have the misfortune to mention those two young girls, in any other way + than you would speak of your own child!—Now, do you mark me?” + </p> + <p> + “What!—you dare to say,” cried the burgomaster, + stammering with rage, “that if I happen to mention two adventuresses—” + </p> + <p> + “Hats off!—when you speak of the daughters of the Duke of + Ligny,” cried the soldier, snatching the cap of the burgomaster and + flinging it on the ground. On this act of aggression, Morok could not + restrain his joy. Exasperated and losing all hope, Dagobert had at length + yielded to the violence of his anger, after struggling so painfully + against it for some hours. + </p> + <p> + When the burgomaster saw his cap at his feet, he looked at the brute tamer + with an air of stupefaction, as if he hesitated to believe so great an + enormity. Dagobert, regretting, his violence, and feeling that no means of + conciliation note remained, threw a rapid glance around him, and, + retreating several paces, gained the topmost steps of the staircase. The + burgomaster stood near the bench, in a corner of the landing-place, whilst + Morok, with his arm in the sling, to give the more serious appearance to + his wound, was close beside him. “So!” cried the magistrate, + deceived by the backward movement of Dagobert, “you think to escape, + after daring to lift hand against me!—Old villain!” + </p> + <p> + “Forgive me, Mr. Burgomaster! It was a burst of rashness that I was + not able to control. I am sorry for it,” said Dagobert in a + repentant voice, and hanging his head humbly. + </p> + <p> + “No pity for thee, rascal! You would begin again to smooth me over + with your coaxing ways, but I have penetrated your secret designs. You are + not what you appear to be, and there is perhaps an affair of state at the + bottom of all this,” added the magistrate, in a very diplomatic + tone. “All means are alike to those who wish to set Europe in + flames.” + </p> + <p> + “I am only a poor devil, Mr. Burgomaster; you, that have a good + heart, will show me some mercy.” + </p> + <p> + “What! when you have pulled off my cap?” + </p> + <p> + “And you,” added the soldier, turning towards Morok, “you, + that have been the cause of all this—have same pity upon me—do + not bear malice!—You, a holy man, speak a word in my favor to Mr. + Burgomaster.” + </p> + <p> + “I have spoken to him what I was bound to speak,” answered the + Prophet ironically. + </p> + <p> + “Oho! you can look foolish enough now, you old vagabond! Did you + think to impose on me with lamentations?” resumed the burgomaster, + advancing towards Dagobert. “Thanks be, I am no longer your dupe!—You + shall see that we have good dungeons at Leipsic for French agitators and + female vagrants, for your damsels are no better than you are. Come,” + added he, puffing out his cheeks with an important air, “go down + before me—and as for you, Morok—” + </p> + <p> + The burgomaster was unable to finish. For some minutes Dagobert had only + sought to gain time, and had cast many a side-glance at a half-open door + on the landing-place, just opposite to the chamber occupied by the + orphans: finding the moment favorable, he now rushed quick as lightning on + the burgomaster, seized him by the throat, and dashed him with such + violence against the door in question, that the magistrate, stupefied by + this sudden attack, and unable to speak a word or utter a cry, rolled over + to the further end of the room, which was completely dark. Then, turning + towards Morok, who, with his arm encumbered by the sling, made a rush for + the staircase, the soldier caught him by his long, streaming hair, pulled + him back, clasped him with hands of iron, clapped his hand over his mouth + to stifle his outcries, and notwithstanding his desperate resistance, + dragged him into the chamber, on the floor of which the burgomaster lay + bruised and stunned. + </p> + <p> + Having double-locked the door, and put the key in his pocket, Dagobert + descended the stairs at two bounds, and found himself in a passage, that + opened on the court-yard. The gate of the inn was shut, and there was no + possibility of escape on that side. The rain fell in torrents. He could + see through the window of a parlor, in which a fire was burning, the host + and his people waiting for the decision of the burgomaster. To bolt the + door of the passage, and thus intercept all communication with the yard, + was for the soldier the affair of an instant, and he hastened upstairs + again to rejoin the orphans. + </p> + <p> + Morok, recovering from his surprise, was calling for help with all his + might; but, even if the distance had permitted him to be heard, the noise + of the wind and rain would have drowned his outcries. Dagobert had about + an hour before him, for it would require some time to elapse before the + length of his interview with the magistrate would excite astonishment; + and, suspicion or fear once awakened, it would be necessary to break open + two doors—that which separated the passage from the court-yard, and + that of the room in which the burgomaster and the Prophet were confined. + </p> + <p> + “My children, it is now time to prove that you have a soldier’s + blood in your veins,” said Dagobert, as he entered abruptly the + chamber of the young girls, who were terrified at the racket they had + heard for some minutes. + </p> + <p> + “Good heaven, Dagobert! what has happened?” cried Blanche. + </p> + <p> + “What do you wish us to do?” added Rose. + </p> + <p> + Without answering, the soldier ran to the bed, tore off the sheets, tied + them strongly together, made a knot at one end, passed it over the top of + the left half of the casement, and so shut it in. Thus made fast by the + size of the knot, which could not slip through, the sheets, floating on + the outside, touched the ground. The second half of the window was left + open, to afford a passage to the fugitives. + </p> + <p> + The veteran next took his knapsack, the children’s portmanteau, and + the reindeer pelisse, and threw them all out of the window, making a sign + to Spoil-sport to follow, to watch over them. The dog did not hesitate, + but disappeared at a single bound. Rose and Blanche looked at Dagobert in + amazement, without uttering a word. + </p> + <p> + “Now, children,” said he to them, “the doors of the inn + are shut, and it is by this way,” pointing to the window, “that + we must pass—if we would not be arrested, put in prison—you in + one place, and I in the other—and have our journey altogether + knocked on the head.” + </p> + <p> + “Arrested! put in prison!” cried Rose. + </p> + <p> + “Separated from you!” exclaimed Blanche. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, my poor children!—They have killed Jovial—we must + make our escape on foot, and try to reach Leipsic—when you are + tired, I will carry you, and, though I have to beg my way, we will go + through with it. But a quarter of an hour later, and all will be lost. + Come, children, have trust in me—show that the daughters of General + Simon are no cowards—and there is yet hope.” + </p> + <p> + By a sympathetic movement, the sisters joined hands, as though they would + meet the danger united. Their sweet faces, pale from the effect of so many + painful emotions, were now expressive of simple resolve, founded on the + blind faith they reposed in the devotion of the soldier. + </p> + <p> + “Be satisfied, Dagobert! we’ll not be frightened,” said + Rose, in a firm voice. + </p> + <p> + “We will do what must be done,” added Blanche, in a no less + resolute tone. + </p> + <p> + “I was sure of it,” cried Dagobert; “good blood is ever + thicker than water. Come! you are light as feathers, the sheet is strong, + it is hardly eight feet to the ground, and the pup is waiting for you.” + </p> + <p> + “It is for me to go first—I am the eldest for to-day,” + cried Rose, when she had tenderly embraced Blanche; and she ran to the + window, in order, if there were any danger, to expose herself to it before + her sister. + </p> + <p> + Dagobert easily guessed the cause of this eagerness. “Dear children!” + said he, “I understand you. But fear nothing for one another—there + is no danger. I have myself fastened the sheet. Quick, my little Rose!” + </p> + <p> + As light as a bird, the young girl mounted the ledge of the window, and + assisted by Dagobert, took hold of the sheet, and slid gently down + according to the recommendation of the soldier, who, leaning out his whole + body, encouraged her with his voice. + </p> + <p> + “Don’t be afraid, sister!” said she, as soon as she + touched the ground, “it is very easy to come down this way. And + Spoil-sport is here, licking my hands.” Blanche did not long keep + her waiting; as courageous as her sister, she descended with the same + success. + </p> + <p> + “Dear little creatures! what have they done to be so unfortunate?—Thousand + thunders! there must be a curse upon the family,” cried Dagobert, + as, with heavy heart, he saw the pale, sweet face of the young girl + disappear amid the gloom of the dark night, which violent squalls of wind + and torrents of rain rendered still more dismal. + </p> + <p> + “Dagobert, we are waiting for you; come quickly!” said the + orphans in a low voice, from beneath the window. Thanks to his tall + stature, the soldier rather leaped than glided to the ground. + </p> + <p> + Dagobert and the two young girls had not fled from the inn of the White + Falcon more than a quarter of an hour, when a long crash resounded through + the house. The door had yielded to the efforts of the burgomaster and + Morok, who had made use of a heavy table as a battering ram. Guided by the + light, they ran to the chamber of the orphans, now deserted. Morok saw the + sheets floating from the casement, and cried: “Mr. Burgomaster, they + have escaped by the window—they are on foot—in this dark and + stormy night, they cannot be far.” + </p> + <p> + “No doubt, we shall catch them, the miserable tramps! Oh, I will be + revenged! Quick, Morok; your honor is concerned as well as mine.” + </p> + <p> + “My honor?—Much more is concerned than that, Mr. Burgomaster,” + answered the Prophet, in a tone of great irritation. Then, rapidly + descending the stairs, he opened the door of the court-yard, and shouted + in a voice of thunder: + </p> + <p> + “Goliath! unchain the dogs!—and, landlord! bring us lanterns, + torches—arm your people—open the doors!—We must pursue + the fugitives; they cannot escape us; we must have them—alive or + dead!” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0015" id="link2HCH0015"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XV. THE DESPATCHES. + </h2> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">W</span>hen we read, in + the rules of the order of the Jesuits, under the title De formula + scribendi (Institut. 2, 11, p. 125, 129), the development of the 8th part + of the constitutions, we are appalled by the number of letters, + narratives, registers, and writings of all kinds, preserved in the + archives of the society. + </p> + <p> + It is a police infinitely more exact and better informed than has ever + been that of any state. Even the government of Venice found itself + surpassed by the Jesuits: when it drove them out in 1606, it seized all + their papers, and reproached them for their great and laborious curiosity. + This police, this secret inquisition, carried to such a degree of + perfection, may give some idea of the strength of a government, so + well-informed so persevering in its projects, so powerful by its unity, + and, as the constitutions have it, by the union of its members. It is not + hard to understand, what immense force must belong to the heads of this + society, and how the general of the Jesuits could say to the Duke de + Brissac: “From this room, your grace, I govern not only Paris, but + China—not only China, but the whole world—and all without any + one knowing how it is done:” (Constitution of the Jesuits, edited by + Paulin, Paris, 1843.) + </p> + <p> + Morok, the lion-tamer, seeing Dagobert deprived of his horse, and stripped + of his money and papers, and thinking it was thus out of his power to + continue his journey, had, previous to the arrival of the burgomaster, + despatched Karl to Leipsic, as the bearer of a letter which he was to put + immediately into the post. The address of this letter was as follows: + “A Monsieur Rodin, Rue du Milieu des Ursins, Paris.” + </p> + <p> + About the middle of this obscure and solitary street, situate below the + level of the Quai Napoleon, which it joins not far from the Rue Saint + Landry, there stood a house of unpretentious appearance, at the bottom of + a dark and narrow court-yard, separated from the street by a low building + in front, with arched doorway, and two windows protected by thick iron + bars. Nothing could be more simple than the interior of this quiet + dwelling, as was sufficiently shown by the furniture of a pretty large + room on the ground floor. The walls of this apartment were lined with old + gray wainscot; the tiled floor was painted red, and carefully polished; + curtains of white calico shaded the windows. + </p> + <p> + A sphere of about four feet in diameter, raised on a pedestal of massive + oak, stood at one end of the room, opposite to the fireplace. Upon this + globe, which was painted on a large scale, a host of little red crosses + appeared scattered over all parts of the world—from the North to the + South, from the rising to the setting sun, from the most barbarous + countries, from the most distant isles, to the centres of civilization, to + France itself. There was not a single country which did not present some + spots marked with these red crosses, evidently indicative of stations, or + serving as points of reference. + </p> + <p> + Before a table of black wood, loaded with papers, and resting against the + wall near the chimney, a chair stood empty. Further on, between the two + windows, was a large walnut-wood desk, surmounted by shelves full of + pasteboard boxes. + </p> + <p> + At the end of the month of October, 1831, about eight o’clock in the + morning, a man sat writing at this desk. This was M. Rodin, the + correspondent of Morok, the brute-tamer. + </p> + <p> + About fifty years of age, he wore an old, shabby, olive greatcoat, with a + greasy collar, a snuff-powdered cotton handkerchief for a cravat, and + waistcoat and trousers of threadbare black cloth. His feet, buried in + loose varnished shoes, rested on a petty piece of green baize upon the + red, polished floor. His gray hair lay flat on his temples, and encircled + his bald forehead; his eyebrows were scarcely marked; his upper eyelid, + flabby and overhanging, like the membrane which shades the eyes of + reptiles, half concealed his small, sharp, black eye. His thin lips, + absolutely colorless, were hardly distinguishable from the wan hue of his + lean visage, with its pointed nose and chin; and this livid mask (deprived + as it were of lips) appeared only the more singular, from its maintaining + a death-like immobility. Had it not been for the rapid movement of his + fingers, as, bending over the desk, he scratched along with his pen, M. + Rodin might have been mistaken for a corpse. + </p> + <p> + By the aid of a cipher (or secret alphabet) placed before him he was + copying certain passages from a long sheet full of writing, in a manner + quite unintelligible to those who did not possess the key to the system. + Whilst the darkness of the day increased the gloom of the large, cold, + naked-looking apartment, there was something awful in the chilling aspect + of this man, tracing his mysterious characters in the midst of profound + silence. + </p> + <p> + The clock struck eight. The dull sound of the knocker at the outer door + was heard, then a bell tinkled twice, several doors opened and shut, and a + new personage entered the chamber. On seeing him, M. Rodin rose from the + desk, stuck his pen between his teeth, bowed with a deeply submissive air, + and sat down again to his work without uttering a word. + </p> + <p> + The two formed a striking contrast to one another. The newcomer, though + really older than he seemed, would have passed for thirty-six or thirty + eight years of age at most. His figure was tall and shapely, and few could + have encountered the brightness of his large gray eye, brilliant as + polished steel. His nose, broad at the commencement, formed a well-cut + square at its termination; his chin was prominent, and the bluish tints of + his close-shaved beard were contrasted with the bright carnation of his + lips, and the whiteness of his fine teeth. When he took off his hat to + change it for a black velvet cap which he found on the small table, he + displayed a quantity of light chestnut hair, not yet silvered by time. He + was dressed in a long frock-coat, buttoned up to the neck in military + fashion. + </p> + <p> + The piercing glance and broad forehead of this man revealed a powerful + intellect, even as the development of his chest and shoulders announced a + vigorous physical organization; whilst his gentlemanly appearance, the + perfection of his gloves and boots, the light perfume which hung about his + hair and person, the grace and ease of his least movements, betrayed what + is called the man of the world, and left the impression that he had sought + or might still seek every kind of success, from the most frivolous to the + most serious. This rare combination of strength of mind, strength of body, + and extreme elegance of manners, was in this instance rendered still more + striking by the circumstance, that whatever there might be of haughtiness + or command in the upper part of that energetic countenance, was softened + down, and tempered by a constant but not uniform smile—for, as + occasion served, this smile became either kind or sly, cordial or gay, + discreet or prepossessing, and thus augmented the insinuating charm of + this man, who, once seen, was never again forgotten. But, in yielding to + this involuntary sympathy, the doubt occurred if the influence was for + good—or for evil. + </p> + <p> + M. Rodin, the secretary of the newcomer, continued to write. + </p> + <p> + “Are there any letters from Dunkirk, Rodin?” inquired his + master. + </p> + <p> + “Post not yet in.” + </p> + <p> + “Without being positively uneasy as to my mother’s health, + since she was already convalescent,” resumed the other, “I + shall only be quite reassured by a letter from my excellent friend, the + Princess de Saint Dizier. I shall have good news this morning, I hope.” + </p> + <p> + “It is to be desired,” said the secretary, as humble and + submissive as he was laconic and impassible. + </p> + <p> + “Certainly it is to be desired,” resumed his master; “for + one of the brightest days of my life was when the Princess de Saint-Dizier + announced to me that this sudden and dangerous illness had yielded to the + care and attention with which she surrounds my mother. Had it not been for + that I must have gone down to her instantly, though my presence here is + very necessary.” + </p> + <p> + Then, approaching the desk, he added: “Is the summary of the foreign + correspondence complete?” + </p> + <p> + “Here is the analysis.” + </p> + <p> + “The letters are still sent under envelope to the places named, and + are then brought here as I directed?” + </p> + <p> + “Always.” + </p> + <p> + “Read to me the notes of this correspondence; if there are any + letters for me to answer, I will tell you.” And Rodin’s master + began to walk up and down the room, with his hands crossed behind his + back, dictating observations of which Rodin took careful note. + </p> + <p> + The secretary turned to a pretty large pile of papers, and thus began: + </p> + <p> + “Don Raymond Olivarez acknowledges from Cadiz receipt of letter + No.19; he will conform to it, and deny all share in the abduction.” + </p> + <p> + “Very well; file it.” + </p> + <p> + “Count Romanoff, of Riga, finds himself in a position of pecuniary + embarrassment.” + </p> + <p> + “Let Duplessis send him fifty louis; I formerly served as captain in + his regiment, and he has since given us good information.” + </p> + <p> + “They have received at Philadelphia the last cargo of Histories of + France, expurgated for the use of the faithful they require some more of + the same sort.” + </p> + <p> + “Take note of it, and write to Duplessis. Go on.” + </p> + <p> + “M. Spindler sends from Namur the secret report on M. Ardouin.” + </p> + <p> + “To be examined.” + </p> + <p> + “M. Ardouin sends from the same town the secret report on M. + Spindler.” + </p> + <p> + “To be examined.” + </p> + <p> + “Doctor Van Ostadt, of the same town, sends a confidential note on + the subject of Messrs. Spindler and Ardouin.” + </p> + <p> + “To be compared. Go on!” + </p> + <p> + “Count Malipierri, of Turin, announces that the donation of 300,000 + francs is signed.” + </p> + <p> + “Inform Duplessis. What next?” + </p> + <p> + “Don Stanislaus has just quitted the waters of Baden with Queen + Marie Ernestine. He informs us that her majesty will receive with + gratitude the promised advices, and will answer them with her own hand.” + </p> + <p> + “Make a note of it. I will myself write to the queen.” + </p> + <p> + Whilst Rodin was inscribing a few remarks on the margin of the paper, his + master, continuing to walk up and down the room, found himself opposite to + the globe marked with little red crosses, and stood contemplating it for a + moment with a pensive air. + </p> + <p> + Rodin continued: “In consequence of the state of the public mind in + certain parts of Italy, where sundry agitators have turned their eyes in + the direction of France, Father Arsenio writes from Milan, that it would + be of importance to distribute profusely in that country, some little + book, in which the French would be represented as impious and debauched, + rapacious and bloody.” + </p> + <p> + “The idea is excellent. We might turn to good account the excesses + committed by our troops in Italy during the wars of the Republic. You must + employ Jacques Dumoulin to write it. He is full of gall, spite, and venom: + the pamphlet will be scorching. Besides, I may furnish a few notes; but + you must not pay Dumoulin till after delivery of the manuscript.” + </p> + <p> + “That is well understood: for, if we were to pay him beforehand, he + would be drunk for a week in some low den. It was thus we had to pay him + twice over for his virulent attack on the pantheistic tendencies of + Professor Martin’s philosophy.” + </p> + <p> + “Take note of it—and go on!” + </p> + <p> + “The merchant announces that the clerk is about to send the banker + to give in his accounts. You understand?’ added Rodin, after + pronouncing these words with a marked emphasis. + </p> + <p> + “Perfectly,” said the other, with a start; “they are but + the expressions agreed on. What next?” + </p> + <p> + “But the clerk,” continued the secretary, “is restrained + by a last scruple.” + </p> + <p> + After a moment’s silence, during which the features of Rodin’s + master worked strongly, he thus resumed: “They must continue to act + on the clerk’s mind by silence and solitude; then, let him read once + more the list of cases in which regicide is authorized and absolved. Go + on!” + </p> + <p> + “The woman Sydney writes from Dresden, that she waits for + instructions. Violent scenes of jealousy on her account have again taken + place between the father and son; but neither from these new bursts of + mutual hatred, nor from the confidential communications which each has + made to her against his rival, has she yet been able to glean the + information required. Hitherto, she has avoided giving the preference to + one or the other; but, should this situation be prolonged, she fears it + may rouse their suspicion. Which ought she then to choose—the father + or the son?” + </p> + <p> + “The son—for jealous resentment will be much more violent and + cruel in the old man, and, to revenge himself for the preference bestowed + upon his son, he will perhaps tell what they have both such an interest to + conceal. The next?” + </p> + <p> + “Within the last three years, two maid-servants of Ambrosius whom we + placed in that little parish in the mountains of the Valais, have + disappeared, without any one knowing what has become of them. A third has + just met with the same fate. The Protestants of the country are roused—talk + of murder with frightful attendant circumstances—” + </p> + <p> + “Until there is proof positive and complete of the fact, Ambrosius + must be defended against these infamous calumnies, the work of a party + that never shrinks from; monstrous inventions. Go on!” + </p> + <p> + “Thompson, of Liverpool, has at length succeeded in procuring for + Justin the place of agent or manager to Lord Stewart, a rich Irish + Catholic, whose head grows daily weaker.” + </p> + <p> + “Let the fact be once verified, and Thompson shall have a premium of + fifty louis. Make a note of it for Duplessis. Proceed.” + </p> + <p> + “Frantz Dichstein, of Vienna,” resumed Rodin, “announces + that his father has just died of the cholera, in a little village at some + leagues from that city: for the epidemic continues to advance slowly, + coming from the north of Russia by way of Poland.” + </p> + <p> + “It is true,” said Rodin’s master, interrupting him; + “may its terrible march be stayed, and France be spared.” + </p> + <p> + “Frantz Dichstein,” resumed Rodin, “says that his two + brothers are determined to contest the donation made by his father, but + that he is of an opposite opinion.” + </p> + <p> + “Consult the two persons that are charged with all matters of + litigation. What next?” + </p> + <p> + “The Cardinal Prince d’Amalfi will conform to the three first + points of the proposal: he demands to make a reservation upon the fourth + point.” + </p> + <p> + “No reserve!—Either full and absolute acceptance—or else + war—and (mark me well) war without mercy—on him and his + creatures. Go on!” + </p> + <p> + “Fra Paolo announces that the Prince Boccari, chief of a redoubtable + secret society, in despair at seeing his friends accuse him of treachery, + in consequence of suspicions excited in their minds by Fra Paolo himself, + has committed suicide.” + </p> + <p> + “Boccari! is it possible?” cried Rodin’s master. “Boccari! + the patriot Boccari! so dangerous a person!” + </p> + <p> + “The patriot Boccari,” repeated the impassible secretary. + </p> + <p> + “Tell Duplessis to send an order for five-and-twenty louis to Fra + Paolo. Make a note of it.” + </p> + <p> + “Hausman informs us that the French dancer, Albertine Ducornet, is + the mistress of the reigning prince; she has the most complete influence + over him, and it would be easy through her means to arrive at the end + proposed, but that she is herself governed by her lover (condemned in + France as a forger), and that she does nothing without consulting him.” + </p> + <p> + “Let Hausman get hold of this man—if his claims are + reasonable, accede to them—and learn if the girl has any relations + in Paris.” + </p> + <p> + “The Duke d’Orbano announces, that the king his master will + authorize the new establishment, but on the conditions previously stated.” + </p> + <p> + “No condition!—either a frank adhesion or a positive refusal. + Let us know our friends from our enemies. The more unfavorable the + circumstances, the more we must show firmness, and overbear opposition by + confidence in ourselves.” + </p> + <p> + “The same also announces, that the whole of the corps diplomatique + continues to support the claims of the father of that young Protestant + girl, who refuses to quit the convent where she has taken refuge, unless + it be to marry her lover against her father’s will.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! the corps diplomatique continues to remonstrate in the father’s + name?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “Then, continue to answer, that the spiritual power has nothing to + do with the temporal.” + </p> + <p> + At this moment, the bell of the outer door again sounded twice. “See + who it is,” said Rodin’s master; and the secretary rose and + left the room. The other continued to walk thoughtfully up and down, till, + coming near to the huge globe, he stopped short before it. + </p> + <p> + For some time he contemplated, in profound silence, the innumerable little + red crosses, which appeared to cover, as with an immense net, all the + countries of the earth. Reflecting doubtless on the invisible action of + his power, which seemed to extend over the whole world, the features of + this man became animated, his large gray eye sparkled, his nostrils + swelled, and his manly countenance assumed an indescribable expression of + pride, energy, and daring. With haughty brow and scornful lip, he drew + still nearer to the globe, and leaned his strong hand upon the pole. + </p> + <p> + This powerful pressure, an imperious movement, as of one taking + possession, seemed to indicate, that he felt sure of governing this globe, + on which he looked down from the height of his tall figure, and on which + he rested his hand with so lofty and audacious an air of sovereignty. + </p> + <p> + But now he no longer smiled. His eye threatened, and his large forehead + was clad with a formidable scowl. The artist, who had wished to paint the + demon of craft and pride, the infernal genius of insatiable domination, + could not have chosen a more suitable model. + </p> + <p> + When Rodin returned, the face of his master had recovered its ordinary + expression. “It is the postman,” said Rodin, showing the + letters which he held in his hand; “there is nothing from Dunkirk.” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing?” cried his master—and his painful emotion + formed a strange contrast to his late haughty and implacable expression of + countenance—“nothing? no news of my mother?—Thirty-six + hours more, then, of anxiety.” + </p> + <p> + “It seems to me, that, if the princess had bad news to give, she + would have written. Probably the improvement goes on.” + </p> + <p> + “You are doubtless right, Rodin—but no matter—I am far + from easy. If, to-morrow, the news should not be completely satisfactory, + I set out for the estate of the princess. Why would my mother pass the + autumn in that part of the country? The environs of Dunkirk do not, I + fear, agree with her.” + </p> + <p> + After a few moments’ silence, he added, as he continued to walk: + “Well—these letters—whence are they?” + </p> + <p> + Rodin looked at the post-marks, and replied: “Out of the four there + are three relative to the great and important affairs of the medals.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank heaven!—provided the news be favorable,” cried + his master, with an expression of uneasiness, which showed how much + importance he attached to this affair. + </p> + <p> + “One is from Charlestown, and no doubt relative to Gabriel, the + missionary,” answered Rodin; “this other from Batavia, and no + doubt concerns the Indian, Djalma. The third is from Leipsic, and will + probably confirm that received yesterday, in which the lion-tamer, Morok, + informed us, that, in accordance with his orders, and without his being + compromised in any way, the daughters of General Simon would not be able + to continue their journey.” + </p> + <p> + At the name of General Simon, a cloud passed over the features of Rodin’s + master. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0016" id="link2HCH0016"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XVI. THE ORDERS. + </h2> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>he principal + houses correspond with that in Paris; they are also in direct + communication with the General, who resides at Rome. The correspondence of + the Jesuits so active, various, and organized in so wonderful a manner, + has for its object to supply the heads with all the information they can + require. Every day, the General receives a host of reports, which serve to + check one another. In the central house, at Rome, are immense registers, + in which are inscribed the names of all the Jesuits, of their adherents, + and of all the considerable persons, whether friends or enemies, with whom + they have any connection. In these registers are reported, without + alteration, hatred or passion the facts relating to the life of each + individual. It is the most gigantic biographical collection that has ever + been formed. The frailties of a woman, the secret errors of a statesman, + are chronicled in this book with the same cold impartiality. Drawn up for + the purpose of being useful, these biographies are necessarily exact. When + the Jesuits wish to influence an individual, they have but to turn to this + book, and they know immediately his life, his character, his parts, his + faults, his projects, his family, his friends, his most sacred ties. + Conceive, what a superior facility of action this immense police-register, + which includes the whole world, must give to any one society! It is not + lightly that I speak of these registers; I have my facts from a person who + has seen this collection, and who is perfectly well acquainted with the + Jesuits. Here then, is matter to reflect on for all those families, who + admit freely into their houses the members of a community that carries its + biographical researches to such a point. (Libri, Member of the Institute. + Letters on the Clergy.) + </p> + <p> + When he had conquered the involuntary emotion which the name or + remembrance of General Simon had occasioned, Rodin’s master said to + the secretary: “Do not yet open the letters from Leipsic, + Charlestown, and Batavia; the information they contain will doubtless find + its place presently. It will save our going over the same ground twice.” + </p> + <p> + The secretary looked inquiringly at his master. + </p> + <p> + The latter continued—“Have you finished the note relating to + the medals?” + </p> + <p> + “Here it is,” replied the secretary; “I was just + finishing my interpretation of the cipher.” + </p> + <p> + “Read it to me, in the order of the facts. You can append to it the + news contained in those three letters.” + </p> + <p> + “True,” said Rodin; “in that way the letters will find + their right place.” + </p> + <p> + “I wish to see,” rejoined the other, “whether this note + is clear and fully explanatory; you did not forget that the person it is + intended for ought not to know all?” + </p> + <p> + “I bore it in mind, and drew up the paper accordingly.” + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:65%;"> + <img src="images/10153m.jpg" alt="10153m " width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/10153.jpg"><i>Original</i></a> + </h5> + <p> + “Read,” said the master. + </p> + <p> + M. Rodin read as follows, slowly and deliberately: + </p> + <p> + “‘A hundred and fifty years ago, a French Protestant family, + foreseeing the speedy—revocation of the edict of Nantes, went into + voluntary exile, in order to avoid the just and rigorous decrees already + issued against the members of the reformed church—those indomitable + foes of our holy religion. + </p> + <p> + “‘Some members of this family sought refuge in Holland, and + afterwards in the Dutch colonies; others in Poland, others in Germany; + some in England, and some in America. + </p> + <p> + “‘It is supposed that only seven descendants remain of this + family, which underwent strange vicissitudes since; its present + representatives are found in all ranks of society, from the sovereign to + the mechanic. + </p> + <p> + “‘These descendants, direct or indirect, are: + </p> + <p> + “‘On the mother’s side, + </p> + <p> + “‘Rose and Blanche Simon—minors. + </p> + <p> + “‘General Simon married, at Warsaw, a descendant of the said + family. + </p> + <p> + “‘Francois Hardy, manufacturer at Plessis, near Paris. + </p> + <p> + “‘Prince Djalma, son of Kadja-sing, King of Mondi. + </p> + <p> + “‘Kadja-sing, married, in 1802, a descendant of the said + family, then settled at Batavia, in the Island of Java, a Dutch colony. + </p> + <p> + “‘On the father’s side—Jacques Rennepont, surnamed + Sleepinbuff, mechanic. + </p> + <p> + “‘Adrienne de Cardoville, daughter of the Count of Rennepont, + Duke of Cardoville. + </p> + <p> + “‘Gabriel Rennepont, priest of the foreign missions. + </p> + <p> + “‘All the members of this family possess, or should possess, a + bronze medal bearing the following inscriptions: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Victim + of + L. C. D. J. + Pray for me! + Paris + February the 13th, 1682. + + At Paris, + Rue Saint Francois, No. 3, + In a century and a half + you will be. + February the 13th, 1832. + Pray For Me! +</pre> + <p> + “‘These words and dates show that all of them have a great + interest to be at Paris on the 13th of February, 1832; and that, not by + proxy, but in person, whether they are minors, married or single. + </p> + <p> + “‘But other persons have an immense interest that none of the + descendants of this family be at Paris on the 13th February, except + Gabriel Rennepont, priest of the foreign missions. + </p> + <p> + “‘At all hazards, therefore, Gabriel must be the only person + present at the appointment made with the descendants of this family, a + century and a half ago. + </p> + <p> + “‘To prevent the other six persons from reaching Paris on the + said day, or to render their presence of no effect, much has been already + done; but much remains to be done to ensure the success of this affair, + which is considered as the most vital and most important of the age, on + account of its probable results.’” + </p> + <p> + “‘Tis but too true,” observed Rodin’s master, + interrupting him, and shaking his head pensively. “And, moreover, + that the consequences of success are incalculable, and there is no + forseeing what may follow failure. In a word, it almost involves a + question of existence or non existence during several years. To succeed, + therefore, ‘all possible means must be employed. Nothing must be + shunned,’ except, however, that appearances must be skillfully + maintained.” + </p> + <p> + “I have written it,” said Rodin, having added the words his + master had just dictated, who then said, + </p> + <p> + “Continue.” + </p> + <p> + Rodin read on: + </p> + <p> + “‘To forward or secure the affair in question, it is necessary + to give some private and secret particulars respecting the seven persons + who represent this family. + </p> + <p> + “‘The truth of these particulars may be relied on. In case of + need they might be completed in the most minute degree for contradictory + information having been given, very lengthened evidence has been obtained. + The order in which the names of the persons stand will be observed, and + events that have happened up to the present time will only be mentioned. + </p> + <p> + “‘NOTE, No. I. “‘Rose and Blanche Simon, twin + sisters, about fifteen years of age; very pretty, so much alike, one might + be taken for the other; mild and timid disposition, but capable of + enthusiasm. Brought up in Siberia by their mother, a woman of strong mind + and deistical sentiments, they are wholly ignorant of our holy religion. + </p> + <p> + “‘General Simon, separated from his wife before they were + born, is not aware, even now, that he has two daughters. + </p> + <p> + “‘It was hoped that their presence in Paris, on the 13th of + February, would be prevented, by sending their mother to a place of exile, + much more distant than the one first allotted her; but their mother dying, + the Governor of Siberia, who is wholly ours, supposing, by a deplorable + mistake, that the measure only affected the wife of General Simon + personally, unfortunately allowed the girls to return to France, under the + guidance of an old soldier. + </p> + <p> + “‘This man is enterprising, faithful, and determined. He is + noted down as dangerous. + </p> + <p> + “‘The Simon girls are inoffensive. It is hoped, on fair + grounds, that they are now detained in the neighborhood of Leipsic.’” + </p> + <p> + Rodin’s master interrupted him, saying: + </p> + <p> + “Now, read the letter just received from Leipsic; it may complete + the information.” + </p> + <p> + Rodin read it, and exclaimed: + </p> + <p> + “Excellent news! The maidens and their guide had succeeded in + escaping during the night from the White Falcon Tavern, but all three were + overtaken and seized about a league from Mockern. They have been + transferred to Leipsic, where they are imprisoned as vagabonds; their + guide, the soldier, is accused and condemned of resisting the authorities, + and using violence to a magistrate.” + </p> + <p> + “It is almost certain, then, considering the tedious mode of + proceeding in Germany (otherwise we would see to it), that the girls will + not be able to be here on the 13th February,” added Rodin’s + master. “Append this to the note on the back.” + </p> + <p> + The secretary obeyed, and endorsed “An abstract of Morok’s + letter.” + </p> + <p> + “It is written,” he then added. + </p> + <p> + “Go on,” resumed his master. + </p> + <p> + Rodin continued reading. + </p> + <p> + “‘NOTE, No. II. “‘Francois Hardy, manufacturer at + Plessis, near Paris, forty years old; a steady, rich, intelligent, active, + honest, well-informed man, idolized by his workmen—thanks to + numberless innovations to promote their welfare. Never attending to the + duties of our holy religion. Noted down as a very dangerous man: but the + hatred and envy he excites among other manufacturers, especially in M. le + Baron Tripeaud, his competitor, may easily be turned against him. If other + means of action on his account, and against him, are necessary, the + evidence may be consulted; it is very voluminous. This man has been marked + and watched for a long time. + </p> + <p> + “‘He has been so effectually misguided with respect to the + medal, that he is completely deceived as to the interests it represents. + He is, however, constantly watched, surrounded, and governed, without + suspecting it; one of his dearest friends deceives him, and through his + means we know his secret thoughts. + </p> + <p> + “‘NOTE, No. III. “‘Prince Djalma; eighteen; + energetic and generous, haughty, independent and wild; favorite of General + Simon, who commanded the troops of his father, Kadja-sing, in the struggle + maintained by the latter against the English in India. Djalma is mentioned + only by way of reminder, for his mother died young, while her parents were + living. They resided at Batavia. On the death of the latter, neither + Djalma nor the king, his father, claimed their little property. It is, + therefore, certain that they are ignorant of the grave interests connected + with the possession of the medal in question, which formed part of the + property of Djalma’s mother."’” + </p> + <p> + Rodin’s master interrupted him. + </p> + <p> + “Now read the letter from Batavia, and complete the information + respecting Djalma.” + </p> + <p> + Rodin read, and then observed: + </p> + <p> + “Good news again. Joshua Van Dael, merchant at Batavia (he was + educated in our Pondicherry establishment), learns from his correspondent + at Calcutta that the old Indian king was killed in the last battle with + the English. His son, Djalma, deprived of the paternal throne, is + provisionally detained as a prisoner of state in an Indian fortress.” + </p> + <p> + “We are at the end of October,” said Rodin’s master. + “If Prince Djalma were to leave India now, he could scarcely reach + Paris by the month of February.” + </p> + <p> + “Van Dael,” continued Rodin, “regrets that he has not + been able to prove his zeal in this case. Supposing Prince Djalma set at + liberty, or having effected his escape, it is certain he would come to + Batavia to claim his inheritance from his mother, since he has nothing + else left him in the world. In that case, you may rely on Van Dael’s + devotedness. In return, he solicits very precise information, by the next + post, respecting the fortune of M. le Baron Tripeaud, banker and + manufacturer, with whom he has business transactions.” + </p> + <p> + “Answer that point evasively. Van Dael as yet has only shown zeal; + complete the information respecting Djalma from these new tidings.” + </p> + <p> + Rodin wrote. + </p> + <p> + But in a few minutes his master said to him with a singular expression: + </p> + <p> + “Does not Van Dael mention General Simon in connection with Djalma’s + imprisonment and his father’s death?” + </p> + <p> + “He does not allude to him,” said the secretary, continuing + his task. + </p> + <p> + Rodin’s master was silent, and paced the room. + </p> + <p> + In a few moments Rodin said to him: “I have done it.” + </p> + <p> + “Go on, then.” + </p> + <p> + “‘NOTE, No. IV. “‘Jacques Rennepont, surnamed + “Sleepinbuff,” i.e. Lie naked, workman in Baron Tripeaud’s + factory. This artisan is drunken, idle, noisy, and prodigal; he is not + without sense, but idleness and debauch have ruined him. A clever agent, + on whom we rely, has become acquainted with his mistress, Cephyse + Soliveau, nicknamed the Bacchanal Queen. Through her means, the agent has + formed such ties with him that he may even now be considered beyond the + reach of the interests that ought to insure his presence in Paris on the + 13th of February. + </p> + <p> + “‘NOTE, No. V. “‘Gabriel Rennepont, priest of + foreign missions, distant relation of the above, but he is alike ignorant + of the existence of his relative and the relationship. An orphan + foundling, he was adopted by Frances Baudoin, the wife of a soldier going + by the name Dagobert. + </p> + <p> + “‘Should this soldier, contrary to expectation, reach Paris, + his wife would be a powerful means of influencing him. She is an excellent + creature, ignorant and credulous, of exemplary piety, over whom we have + long had unlimited control. She prevailed on Gabriel to take orders, + notwithstanding his repugnance. + </p> + <p> + “‘Gabriel is five-and-twenty; disposition as angelic as his + countenance; rare and solid virtues; unfortunately he was brought up with + his adopted brother, Agricola, Dagobert’s son. This Agricola is a + poet and workman—but an excellent workman; he is employed by M. + Hardy; has imbibed the most detestable doctrines; fond of his mother; + honest, laborious, but without religious feeling. Marked as very + dangerous. This causes his intimacy with Gabriel to be feared. + </p> + <p> + “‘The latter, notwithstanding his excellent qualities, + sometimes causes uneasiness. We have even delayed confiding in him fully. + A false step might make him, too, one of the most dangerous. Much + precaution must be used then, especially till the 13th of February; since, + we repeat it, on him, on his presence in Paris at that time, depend + immense hopes and equally important interests. + </p> + <p> + “‘Among other precautions, we have consented to his taking + part in the American mission, for he unites with angelic sweetness of + character a calm intrepidity and adventurous spirit which could only be + satisfied by allowing him to engage in the perilous existence of the + missionaries. Luckily, his superiors at Charlestown have received the + strictest orders not to endanger, on any account, so precious a life. They + are to send him to Paris, at least a month or two before February 13th.”’ + </p> + <p> + Rodin’s master again interrupted him, and said: “Read the + letter from Charlestown, and see what it tells you in order to complete + the information upon this point also.” + </p> + <p> + When he had read the letter, Rodin went on: “Gabriel is expected + every day from the Rocky Mountains, whither he had absolutely insisted on + going alone upon a mission.” + </p> + <p> + “What imprudence!” + </p> + <p> + “He has no doubt escaped all danger, as he himself announces his + speedy return to Charlestown. As soon as he arrives, which cannot (they + write) be later than the middle of this month, he will be shipped off for + France.” + </p> + <p> + “Add this to the note which concerns him,” said Rodin’s + master. + </p> + <p> + “It is written,” replied the secretary, a few moments later. + </p> + <p> + “Proceed, then,” said his master. Rodin continued + </p> + <p> + “‘NOTE, No. VI. “‘ADRIENNE RENNEPONT DE + CARDOVILLE. + </p> + <p> + “‘Distantly related (without knowing it) to Jacques Rennepont, + alias Sleepinbuff, and Gabriel Rennepont, missionary priest. She will soon + be twenty-one years of age, the most attractive person in the world—extraordinary + beauty, though red-haired—a mind remarkable for its originality—immense + fortune—all the animal instincts. The incredible independence of her + character makes one tremble for the future fate of this young person. + Happily, her appointed guardian, Baron Tripeaud (a baron of 1829 creation, + formerly agent to the late Count of Rennepont, Duke of Cardoville), is + quite in the interest, and almost in the dependence, of the young lady’s + aunt. We count, with reason, upon this worthy and respectable relative, + and on the Baron Tripeaud, to oppose and repress the singular, unheard-of + designs which this young person, as resolute as independent, does not fear + to avow—and which, unfortunately, cannot be turned to account in the + interest of the affair in question—for—” + </p> + <p> + Rodin was here interrupted by two discreet taps at the door. The secretary + rose, went to see who knocked, remained a moment without, and then + returned with two letters in his hand, saying: “The princess has + profited by the departure of a courier to—” + </p> + <p> + “Give me the letter!” cried his master, without leaving him + time to finish. “At length,” he added, “I shall have + news of my mother—” + </p> + <p> + He had scarcely read the first few lines of the letter, when he grew + deadly pale, and his features took an expression of painful astonishment + and poignant grief. “My mother!” he cried, “oh, heavens! + my mother!” + </p> + <p> + “What misfortune has happened!” asked Rodin, with a look of + alarm, as he rose at the exclamation of his master. + </p> + <p> + “The symptoms of improvement were fallacious,” replied the + other, dejectedly; “she has now relapsed into a nearly hopeless + state. And yet the doctor thinks my presence might save her, for she calls + for me without ceasing. She wishes to see me for the last time, that she + may die in peace. Oh, that wish is sacred! Not to grant it would be + matricide. If I can but arrive in time! Travelling day and night, it will + take nearly two days.” + </p> + <p> + “Alas! what a misfortune!” said Rodin, wringing his hands, and + raising his eyes to heaven. + </p> + <p> + His master rang the bell violently, and said to the old servant that + opened the door: “Just put what is indispensable into the + portmanteau of my travelling-carriage. Let the porter take a cab, and go + for post horses instantly. Within an hour, I must be on the road. Mother! + mother!” cried he, as the servant departed in haste. “Not to + see her again—oh, it would be frightful!” And sinking upon a + chair, overwhelmed with sorrow, he covered his face with his hands. + </p> + <p> + This great grief was sincere—he loved tenderly his mother that + divine sentiment had accompanied him, unalterable and pure, through all + the phases of a too often guilty life. + </p> + <p> + After a few minutes, Rodin ventured to say to his master, as he showed him + the second letter: “This, also, has just been brought from M. + Duplessis. It is very important—very pressing—” + </p> + <p> + “See what it is, and answer it. I have no head for business.” + </p> + <p> + “The letter is confidential,” said Rodin, presenting it to his + master. “I dare not open it, as you may see by the mark on the + cover.” + </p> + <p> + At sight of this mark, the countenance of Rodin’s master assumed an + indefinable expression of respect and fear. With a trembling hand he broke + the seal. The note contained only the following words: “Leave all + business, and without losing a minute, set out and come. M. Duplessis will + replace you. He has orders.” + </p> + <p> + “Great God!” cried this man in despair. “Set out before + I have seen my mother! It is frightful, impossible—it would perhaps + kill her—yes, it would be matricide!” + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:65%;"> + <img src="images/10161m.jpg" alt="10161m " width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/10161.jpg"><i>Original</i></a> + </h5> + <p> + Whilst he uttered these words, his eyes rested on the huge globe, marked + with red crosses. A sudden revolution seemed to take place within him; he + appeared to repent of the violence of his regrets; his face, though still + sad, became once more calm and grave. He handed the fatal letter to his + secretary, and said to him, whilst he stifled a sigh: “To be classed + under its proper number.” + </p> + <p> + Rodin took the letter, wrote a number upon it, and placed it in a + particular box. After a moment’s silence, his master resumed: + “You will take orders from M. Duplessis, and work with him. You will + deliver to him the note on the affair of the medals; he knows to whom to + address it. You will write to Batavia, Leipsic, and Charlestown, in the + sense agreed. Prevent, at any price, the daughters of General Simon from + quitting Leipsic; hasten the arrival of Gabriel in Paris; and should + Prince Djalma come to Batavia, tell M. Joshua Van Dael, that we count on + his zeal and obedience to keep him there.” + </p> + <p> + And this man, who, while his dying mother called to him in vain, could + thus preserve his presence of mind, entered his own apartments; whilst + Rodin busied himself with the answers he had been ordered to write, and + transcribed them in cipher. + </p> + <p> + In about three quarters of an hour, the bells of the post-horses were + heard jingling without. The old servant again entered, after discreetly + knocking at the door, and said: + </p> + <p> + “The carriage is ready.” + </p> + <p> + Rodin nodded, and the servant withdrew. The secretary, in his turn, went + to knock at the door of the inner room. His master appeared, still grave + and cold, but fearfully pale, and holding a letter in his hand. + </p> + <p> + “This for my mother,” said he to Rodin; “you will send a + courier on the instant.” + </p> + <p> + “On the instant,” replied the secretary. + </p> + <p> + “Let the three letters for Leipsic, Batavia and Charlestown, leave + to-day by the ordinary channel. They are of the last importance. You know + it.” + </p> + <p> + Those were his last words. Executing merciless orders with a merciless + obedience, he departed without even attempting to see his mother. His + secretary accompanied him respectfully to his carriage. + </p> + <p> + “What road, sir?” asked the postilion, turning round on his + saddle. + </p> + <p> + “The road to ITALY!” answered Rodin’s master, with so + deep a sigh that it almost resembled a sob. + </p> + <p> + As the horses started at full gallop, Rodin made a low bow; then he + returned to the large, cold, bare apartment. The attitude, countenance, + and gait of this personage seemed to have undergone a sudden change. He + appeared to have increased in dimensions. He was no longer an automaton, + moved by the mechanism of humble obedience. His features, till now + impassible, his glance, hitherto subdued, became suddenly animated with an + expression of diabolical craft; a sardonic smile curled his thin, pale + lips, and a look of grim satisfaction relaxed his cadaverous face. + </p> + <p> + In turn, he stopped before the huge globe. In turn, he contemplated it in + silence, even as his master had done. Then, bending over it, and embracing + it, as it were, in his arms, he gloated with his reptile-eye on it for + some moments, drew his coarse finger along its polished surface, and + tapped his flat, dirty nail on three of the places dotted with red + crosses. And, whilst he thus pointed to three towns, in very different + parts of the world, he named them aloud, with a sneer. + </p> + <p> + “Leipsic—Charlestown—Batavia.” + </p> + <p> + “In each of these three places,” he added, “distant as + they are from one another, there exist persons who little think that here, + in this obscure street, from the recesses of this chamber, wakeful eyes + are upon them—that all their movements are followed, all their + actions known—and that hence will issue new instructions, which + deeply concern them, and which will be inexorably executed; for an + interest is at stake, which may have a powerful influence on Europe—on + the world. Luckily, we have friends at Leipsic, Charlestown, and Batavia.” + </p> + <p> + This funny, old, sordid, ill-dressed man, with his livid and death-like + countenance, thus crawling over the sphere before him, appeared still more + awful than his master, when the latter, erect and haughty, had imperiously + laid his hand upon that globe, which he seemed desirous of subjecting by + the strength of his pride and courage. The one resembled the eagle, that + hovers above his prey—the other the reptile, that envelops its + victim in its inextricable folds. + </p> + <p> + After some minutes, Rodin approached his desk, rubbing his hands briskly + together, and wrote the following epistle in a cipher unknown even to his + master: + </p> + <p> + “Paris, 3/4 past 9 A.M. + </p> + <p> + “He is gone—but he hesitated! + </p> + <p> + “When he received the order, his dying mother had just summoned him + to her. He might, they told him, save her by his presence; and he + exclaimed: ‘Not to go to my mother would be matricide!’ + </p> + <p> + “Still, he is gone—but he hesitated. I keep my eye upon him + continually. These lines will reach Rome at the same time as himself. + </p> + <p> + “P.S.—Tell the Cardinal-Prince that he may rely on me, but I + hope for his active aid in return.” + </p> + <p> + When he had folded and sealed this letter, Rodin put it into his pocket. + The clock struck ten, M. Rodin’s hour for breakfast. He arranged and + locked up his papers in a drawer, of which he carried away the key, + brushed his old greasy hat with his sleeve, took a patched umbrella in his + hand, and went out. (1) + </p> + <p> + Whilst these two men, in the depths of their obscure retreat, were thus + framing a plot, which was to involve the seven descendants of a race + formerly proscribed—a strange mysterious defender was planning how + to protect this family, which was also his own. + </p> + <p> + 1 Having cited the excellent, courageous letters of M. Libri, and the + curious work edited by M. Paulin, it is our duty likewise to mention many + bold and conscientious writings on the subject of the “Society of + Jesus,” recently published by the elder Dupin, Michelet, Quinet, + Genin, and the Count de Saint Priest—works of high and impartial + intellects, in which the fatal theories of the order are admirably exposed + and condemned. We esteem ourselves happy, if we can bring one stone + towards the erection of the strong, and, we hope, durable embankment which + these generous hearts and noble minds are raising against the + encroachments of an impure and always menacing flood.—E. S. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0021" id="link2H_4_0021"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + BOOK II. INTERVAL.—THE WANDERING JEW’S SENTENCE. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + XVII. The Ajoupa XVIII. The Tattooing XIX. The Smuggler XX. + M. Joshua Van Dael XXI. The Ruins of Tchandi XXII. The + Ambuscade XXIII. M. Rodin XXIV. The Tempest XXV. The + Shipwreck XXVI. The Departure for Paris XXVII. Dagobert’s + Wife XXVIII. The Sister of the Bacchanal Queen XXIX. + Agricola Baudoin XXX. The Return XXXI. Agricola and Mother + Bunch XXXII. The Awakening XXXIII. The Pavilion XXXIV. + Adrienne at her Toilet XXXV. The Interview +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0022" id="link2H_4_0022"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + INTERVAL. + </h2> + <h3> + THE WANDERING JEW’S SENTENCE. + </h3> + <p> + The site is wild and rugged. It is a lofty eminence covered with huge + boulders of sandstone, between which rise birch trees and oaks, their + foliage already yellowed by autumn. These tall trees stand out from the + background of red light, which the sun has left in the west, resembling + the reflection of a great fire. + </p> + <p> + From this eminence the eye looks down into a deep valley, shady, fertile, + and half-veiled in light vapor by the evening mist. The rich meadows, the + tufts of bushy trees the fields from which the ripe corn has been gathered + in, all blend together in one dark, uniform tint, which contrasts with the + limpid azure of the heavens. Steeples of gray stone or slate lift their + pointed spires, at intervals, from the midst of this valley; for many + villages are spread about it, bordering a high-road which leads from the + north to the west. + </p> + <p> + It is the hour of repose—the hour when, for the most part, every + cottage window brightens to the joyous crackling of the rustic hearth, and + shines afar through shade and foliage, whilst clouds of smoke issue from + the chimneys, and curl up slowly towards the sky. But now, strange to say, + every hearth in the country seems cold and deserted. Stranger and more + fatal still, every steeple rings out a funeral knell. Whatever there is of + activity, movement, or life, appears concentrated in that lugubrious and + far-sounding vibration. + </p> + <p> + Lights begin to show themselves in the dark villages, but they rise not + from the cheerful and pleasant rustic hearth. They are as red as the fires + of the herdsmen, seen at night through the midst of the fog. And then + these lights do not remain motionless. They creep slowly towards the + churchyard of every village. Louder sounds the death-knell, the air + trembles beneath the strokes of so many bells, and, at rare intervals, the + funeral chant rises faintly to the summit of the hill. + </p> + <p> + Why so many interments? What valley of desolation is this, where the + peaceful songs which follow the hard labors of the day are replaced by the + death dirge? where the repose of evening is exchanged for the repose of + eternity? What is this valley of the shadow, where every village mourns + for its many dead, and buries them at the same hour of the same night? + </p> + <p> + Alas! the deaths are so sudden and numerous and frightful that there is + hardly time to bury the dead. During day the survivors are chained to the + earth by hard but necessary toil; and only in the evening, when they + return from the fields, are they able, though sinking with fatigue, to dig + those other furrows, in which their brethren are to lie heaped like grains + of corn. + </p> + <p> + And this valley is not the only one that has seen the desolation. During a + series of fatal years, many villages, many towns, many cities, many great + countries, have seen, like this valley, their hearths deserted and cold—have + seen, like this valley, mourning take the place of joy, and the + death-knell substituted for the noise of festival—have wept in the + same day for their many dead, and buried them at night by the lurid glare + of torches. + </p> + <p> + For, during those fatal years, an awful wayfarer had slowly journeyed over + the earth, from one pole to the other—from the depths of India and + Asia to the ice of Siberia—from the ice of Siberia to the borders of + the seas of France. + </p> + <p> + This traveller, mysterious as death, slow as eternity, implacable as fate, + terrible as the hand of heaven, was the CHOLERA! + </p> + <p> + The tolling of bells and the funeral chants still rose from the depths of + the valley to the summit of the hill, like the complaining of a mighty + voice; the glare of the funeral torches was still seen afar through the + mist of evening; it was the hour of twilight—that strange hour, + which gives to the most solid forms a vague, indefinite fantastic + appearance—when the sound of firm and regular footsteps was heard on + the stony soil of the rising ground, and, between the black trunks of the + trees, a man passed slowly onward. + </p> + <p> + His figure was tall, his head was bowed upon his breast; his countenance + was noble, gentle, and sad; his eyebrows, uniting in the midst, extended + from one temple to the other, like a fatal mark on his forehead. + </p> + <p> + This man did not seem to hear the distant tolling of so many funeral bells—and + yet, a few days before, repose and happiness, health and joy, had reigned + in those villages through which he had slowly passed, and which he now + left behind him, mourning and desolate. But the traveller continued on his + way, absorbed in his own reflections. + </p> + <p> + “The 13th of February approaches,” thought he; “the day + approaches, in which the descendants of my beloved sister, the last scions + of our race, should meet in Paris. Alas! it is now a hundred and fifty + years since, for the third time, persecution scattered this family over + all the earth—this family, that I have watched over with tenderness + for eighteen centuries, through all its migrations and exiles, its changes + of religion, fortune, and name! + </p> + <p> + “Oh! for this family, descended from the sister of the poor + shoemaker,(2) what grandeur and what abasement, what obscurity and what + splendor, what misery and what glory! By how many crimes has it been + sullied, by how many virtues honored! The history of this single family is + the history of the human race! + </p> + <p> + “Passing, in the course of so many generations, through the veins of + the poor and the rich, of the sovereign and the bandit, of the wise man + and the fool, of the coward and the brave, of the saint and the atheist, + the blood of my sister has transmitted itself to this hour. + </p> + <p> + “What scions of this family are now remaining? Seven only. + </p> + <p> + “Two orphans, the daughters of proscribed parents—a dethroned + prince—a poor missionary priest—a man of the middle class—a + young girl of a great name and large fortune—a mechanic. + </p> + <p> + “Together, they comprise in themselves the virtues, the courage, the + degradation, the splendor, the miseries of our species! + </p> + <p> + “Siberia—India—America—France—behold the + divers places where fate has thrown them! + </p> + <p> + “My instinct teaches me when one of them is in peril. Then, from the + North to the South, from the East to the West, I go to seek them. + Yesterday amid the polar frosts—to-day in the temperate zone—to-morrow + beneath the fires of the tropics—but often, alas! at the moment when + my presence might save them, the invisible hand impels me, the whirlwind + carries me away, and the voice speaks in my ear: ‘GO ON! GO ON!’ + </p> + <p> + “Oh, that I might only finish my task!—‘GO ON!’—A + single hour—only a single hour of repose!—‘GO ON!’—Alas! + I leave those I love on the brink of the abyss!—‘GO ON! GO ON!’ + </p> + <p> + “Such is my punishment. If it is great, my crime was greater still! + An artisan, devoted to privations and misery, my misfortunes had made me + cruel. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, cursed, cursed be the day, when, as I bent over my work, sullen + with hate and despair, because, in spite of my incessant labor, I and mine + wanted for everything, the Saviour passed before my door. + </p> + <p> + “Reviled, insulted, covered with blows, hardly able to sustain the + weight of his heavy cross, He asked me to let Him rest a moment on my + stone bench. The sweat poured from His forehead, His feet were bleeding, + He was well-nigh sinking with fatigue, and He said to me, in a mild, heart + piercing voice: ‘I suffer!’ ‘And I too suffer,’ I + replied, as with harsh anger I pushed Him from the place; ‘I suffer, + and no one comes to help me! I find no pity, and will give none. Go on! go + on!’ Then, with a deep sigh of pain, He answered, and spake this + sentence: ‘Verily, thou shalt go on till the day of thy redemption, + for so wills the Father which art in heaven!’ + </p> + <p> + “And so my punishment began. Too late I opened these eyes to the + light, too late I learned repentance and charity, too late I understood + those divine words of Him I had outraged, words which should be the law of + the whole human race. ‘LOVE YE ONE ANOTHER.’ + </p> + <p> + “In vain through successive ages, gathering strength and eloquence + from those celestial words, have I labored to earn my pardon, by filling + with commiseration and love hearts that were overflowing with envy and + bitterness, by inspiring many a soul with a sacred horror of oppression + and injustice. For me the day of mercy has not yet dawned! + </p> + <p> + “And even as the first man, by his fall, devoted his posterity to + misfortune, it would seem as if I, the workman, had consigned the whole + race of artisans to endless sorrows, and as if they were expiating my + crime: for they alone, during these eighteen centuries, have not yet been + delivered. + </p> + <p> + “For eighteen centuries, the powerful and the happy of this world + have said to the toiling people what I said to the imploring and suffering + Saviour: ‘Go on! go on!’ And the people, sinking with fatigue, + bearing their heavy cross, have answered in the bitterness of their grief: + ‘Oh, for pity’s sake! a few moments of repose; we are worn out + with toil.’—Go on!’—‘And if we perish in our + pain, what will become of our little children and our aged mothers?’—‘Go + on! go on!’ And, for eighteen centuries, they and I have continued + to struggle forward and to suffer, and no charitable voice has yet + pronounced the word ‘Enough!’ + </p> + <p> + “Alas! such is my punishment. It is immense, it is two-fold. I + suffer in the name of humanity, when I see these wretched multitudes + consigned without respite to profitless and oppressive toil. I suffer in + the name of my family, when, poor and wandering, I am unable to bring aid + to the descendants of my dear sister. But, when the sorrow is above my + strength, when I foresee some danger from which I cannot preserve my own, + then my thoughts, travelling over the world, go in search of that woman + like me accursed, that daughter of a queen, who, like me, the son of a + laborer, wanders, and will wander on, till the day of her redemption.(3) + </p> + <p> + “Once in a century, as two planets draw nigh to each other in their + revolutions, I am permitted to meet this woman during the dread week of + the Passion. And after this interview, filled with terrible remembrances + and boundless griefs, wandering stars of eternity, we pursue our infinite + course. + </p> + <p> + “And this woman, the only one upon earth who, like me, sees the end + of every century, and exclaims: ‘What another?’ this woman + responds to my thought, from the furthest extremity of the world. She, who + alone shares my terrible destiny, has chosen to share also the only + interest that has consoled me for so many ages. Those descendants of my + dear sister, she too loves, she too protects them. For them she journeys + likewise from East to West and from North to South. + </p> + <p> + “But alas! the invisible hand impels her, the whirlwind carries her + away, and the voice speaks in her ear: ‘Go on!’—‘Oh + that I might finish my sentence!’ repeats she also,—‘Go + on!’—‘A single hour—only a single hour of repose!’—Go + on!’—‘I leave those I love on the brink of the abyss.’—‘Go + on! Go on!—‘” + </p> + <p> + Whilst this man thus went over the hill absorbed in his thoughts, the + light evening breeze increased almost to a gale, a vivid flash streamed + across the sky, and long, deep whistlings announced the coming of a + tempest. + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:65%;"> + <img src="images/10169m.jpg" alt="10169m " width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/10169.jpg"><i>Original</i></a> + </h5> + <p> + On a sudden this doomed man, who could no longer weep or smile, started + with a shudder. No physical pain could reach him, and yet he pressed his + hand hastily to his heart, as though he had experienced a cruel pang. + “Oh!” cried he; “I feel it. This hour, many of those + whom I love—the descendants of my dear sister—suffer, and are + in great peril. Some in the centre of India—some in America—some + here in Germany. The struggle recommences, the detestable passions are + again awake. Oh, thou that hearest me—thou, like myself wandering + and accursed—Herodias! help me to protect them! May my invocation + reach thee, in those American solitudes where thou now lingerest—and + may we arrive in time!” + </p> + <p> + Thereon an extraordinary event happened. Night was come. The man made a + movement; precipitately, to retrace his steps—but an invisible force + prevented him, and carried him forward in the opposite direction. + </p> + <p> + At this moment, the storm burst forth in its murky majesty. One of those + whirlwinds, which tear up trees by the roots and shake the foundations of + the rocks, rushed over the hill rapid and loud as thunder. + </p> + <p> + In the midst of the roaring of the hurricane, by the glare of the fiery + flashes, the man with the black mark on his brow was seen descending the + hill, stalking with huge strides among the rocks, and between trees bent + beneath the efforts of the storm. + </p> + <p> + The tread of this man was no longer slow, firm, and steady—but + painfully irregular, like that of one impelled by an irresistible power, + or carried along by the whirl of a frightful wind. In vain he extended his + supplicating hands to heaven. Soon he disappeared in the shades of night, + and amid the roar of the tempest. + </p> + <p> + (2) It is known that, according to the legend, the Wandering Jew was a + shoemaker at Jerusalem. The Saviour, carrying his cross, passed before the + house of the artisan, and asked him to be allowed to rest an instant on + the stone bench at his door. “Go on! go on!” said the Jew + harshly, pushing him away. “Thou shalt go on till the end of time,” + answered the Saviour, in a stern though sorrowful tone. For further + details, see the eloquent and learned notice by Charles Magnin, appended + to the magnificent poem “Ahasuerus,” by Ed. Quinet.—E. + S. + </p> + <p> + (3) According to a legend very little known, for we are indebted to the + kindness of M. Maury, the learned sub-librarian of the Institute, Herodias + was condemned to wander till the day of judgement, for having asked for + the death of John the Baptist—E. S. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0017" id="link2HCH0017"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XVII. THE AJOUPA. + </h2> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">W</span>hile Rodin + despatched his cosmopolite correspondence, from his retreat in the Rue du + Milieu des Ursins, in Paris—while the daughters of General Simon, + after quitting as fugitives the White Falcon, were detained prisoners at + Leipsic along with Dagobert—other scenes, deeply interesting to + these different personages, were passing, almost as it were at the same + moment, at the other extremity of the world, in the furthermost parts of + Asia—that is to say, in the island of Java, not far from the city of + Batavia, the residence of M. Joshua Van Dael, one of the correspondents of + Rodin. + </p> + <p> + Java! magnificent and fatal country, where the most admirable flowers + conceal hideous reptiles, where the brightest fruits contain subtle + poisons, where grow splendid trees, whose very shadow is death—where + the gigantic vampire bat sucks the blood of its victims whilst it prolongs + their sleep, by surrounding them with a fresh and balmy air, no fan moving + so rapidly as the great perfumed wings of this monster! + </p> + <p> + The month of October, 1831, draws near its close. It is noon—an hour + well nigh mortal to him who encounters the fiery heat of the sun, which + spreads a sheet of dazzling light over the deep blue enamel of the sky. + </p> + <p> + An ajoupa, or hut, made of cane mats, suspended from long bamboos, which + are driven far into the ground, rises in the midst of the bluish shadows + cast by a tuft of trees, whose glittering verdure resembles green + porcelain. These quaintly formed trees, rounded into arches, pointing like + spires, overspreading like parasols, are so thick in foliage, so entangled + one with the other, that their dome is impenetrable to the rain. + </p> + <p> + The soil, ever marshy, notwithstanding the insupportable heat, disappears + beneath an inextricable mass of creepers, ferns, and tufted reeds, of a + freshness and vigor of vegetation almost incredible, reaching nearly to + the top of the ajoupa, which lies hid like a nest among the grass. + </p> + <p> + Nothing can be more suffocating than the atmosphere, heavily laden with + moist exhalations like the steam of hot water, and impregnated with the + strongest and sharpest scents; for the cinnamon-tree, ginger-plant, + stephanotis and Cape jasmine, mixed with these trees and creepers, spread + around in puffs their penetrating odors. A roof, formed of large Indian + fig-leaves, covers the cabin; at one end is a square opening, which serves + for a window, shut in with a fine lattice-work of vegetable fibres, so as + to prevent the reptiles and venomous insects from creeping into the + ajoupa. The huge trunk of a dead tree, still standing, but much bent, and + with its summit reaching to the roof of the ajoupa, rises from the midst + of the brushwood. From every crevice in its black, rugged, mossy bark, + springs a strange, almost fantastic flower; the wing of a butterfly is not + of a finer tissue, of a more brilliant purple, of a more glossy black: + those unknown birds we see in our dreams, have no more grotesque forms + than these specimens of the orchis—winged flowers, that seem always + ready to fly from their frail and leafless stalks. The long, flexible + stems of the cactus, which might be taken for reptiles, encircle also this + trunk, and clothe it with their bunches of silvery white, shaded inside + with bright orange. These flowers emit a strong scent of vanilla. + </p> + <p> + A serpent, of a brick-red, about the thickness of a large quill, and five + or six inches long, half protrudes its flat head from one of those + enormous, perfumed calyces, in which it lies closely curled up. + </p> + <p> + Within the ajoupa, a young man is extended on a mat in a profound sleep. + His complexion of a clear golden yellow, gives him the appearance of a + statue of pale bronze, on which a ray of sun is playing. His attitude is + simple and graceful; his right arm sustains his head, a little raised and + turned on one side; his ample robe of white muslin, with hanging sleeves, + leaves uncovered his chest and arms worthy of the Antoinous. Marble is not + more firm, more polished than his skin, the golden hue of which contracts + strongly with the whiteness of his garments. Upon his broad manly chest a + deep scar is visible—the mark of the musket-ball he received in + defending the life of General Simon, the father of Rose and Blanche. + </p> + <p> + Suspended from his neck, he wears a medal similar to that in the + possession of the two sisters. This Indian is Djalma. + </p> + <p> + His features are at once very noble and very beautiful. His hair of a blue + black, parted upon his forehead, falls waving, but not curled over his + shoulders; whilst his eyebrows, boldly and yet delicately defined, are of + as deep a jet as the long eyelashes, that cast their shadow upon his + beardless cheek. His bright, red lips are slightly apart, and he breathes + uneasily; his sleep is heavy and troubled, for the heat becomes every + moment more and more suffocating. + </p> + <p> + Without, the silence is profound. Not a breath of air is stirring. Yet now + the tall ferns, which cover the soil, begin to move almost imperceptibly, + as though their stems were shaken by the slow progress of some crawling + body. From time to time, this trifling oscillation suddenly ceases, and + all is again motionless. But, after several of these alternations of + rustling and deep silence, a human head appears in the midst of the + jungle, a little distance from the trunk of the dead tree. + </p> + <p> + The man to whom it belonged was possessed of a grim countenance, with a + complexion the color of greenish bronze, long black hair bound about his + temples, eyes brilliant with savage fire, and an expression remarkable for + its intelligence and ferocity. Holding his breath, he remained quite still + for a moment; then, advancing upon his hands and knees, pushing aside the + leaves so gently, that not the slightest noise could be heard, he arrived + cautiously and slowly at the trunk of the dead tree, the summit of which + nearly touched the roof of the ajoupa. + </p> + <p> + This man, of Malay origin, belonging to the sect of the Lughardars + (Stranglers), after having again listened, rose almost entirely from + amongst the brushwood. With the exception of white cotton drawers, + fastened around his middle by a parti-colored sash, he was completely + naked. His bronze, supple, and nervous limbs were overlaid with a thick + coat of oil. Stretching himself along the huge trunk on the side furthest + from the cabin, and thus sheltered by the whole breadth of the tree with + its surrounding creepers, he began to climb silently, with as much + patience as caution. In the undulations of his form, in the flexibility of + his movements, in the restrained vigor, which fully put forth would have + been alarming, there was some resemblance to the stealthy and treacherous + advance of the tiger upon its prey. + </p> + <p> + Having reached, completely unperceived, the inclined portion of the tree, + which almost touched the roof of the cabin, he was only separated from the + window by a distance of about a foot. Cautiously advancing his head, he + looked down into the interior, to see how he might best find an entrance. + </p> + <p> + At sight of Djalma in his deep sleep, the Thug’s bright eyes + glittered with increased brilliancy; a nervous contraction, or rather a + mute, ferocious laugh, curling the corners of his mouth, drew them up + towards the cheekbones, and exposed rows of teeth, filed sharp like the + points of a saw, and dyed of a shining black. + </p> + <p> + Djalma was lying in such a manner and so near the door of the ajoupa, + which opened inwards, that, were it moved in the least, he must be + instantly awakened. The Strangler, with his body still sheltered by the + tree, wishing to examine more attentively the interior of the cabin, + leaned very forward, and in order to maintain his balance, lightly rested + his hand on the ledge of the opening that served for a window. This + movement shook the large cactus-flowers, within which the little serpent + lay curled, and, darting forth it twisted itself rapidly round the wrist + of the Strangler. Whether from pain or surprise, the man uttered a low + cry; and as he drew back swiftly, still holding by the trunk of the tree, + he perceived that Djalma had moved. + </p> + <p> + The young Indian, though retaining his supine posture, had half opened his + eyes, and turned his head towards the window, whilst his breast heaved + with a deep-drawn sigh, for, beneath that thick dome of moist verdure, the + concentrated heat was intolerable. + </p> + <p> + Hardly had he moved, when, from behind the tree, was heard the shrill, + brief, sonorous note, which the bird of paradise titters when it takes its + flight—a cry which resembles that of the pheasant. This note was + soon repeated, but more faintly, as though the brilliant bird were already + at a distance. Djalma, thinking he had discovered the cause of the noise + which had aroused him for an instant, stretched out the arm upon which his + head had rested, and went to sleep again, with scarcely any change of + position. + </p> + <p> + For some minutes, the most profound silence once more reigned in this + solitude, and everything remained motionless. + </p> + <p> + The Strangler, by his skillful imitation of the bird, had repaired the + imprudence of that exclamation of surprise and pain, which the reptile + bite had forced from him. When he thought all was safe, he again advanced + his head, and saw the young Indian once more plunged in sleep. Then he + descended the tree with the same precautions, though his left hand was + somewhat swollen from the sting of the serpent, and disappeared in the + jungle. + </p> + <p> + At that instant a song of monotonous and melancholy cadence was heard in + the distance. The Strangler raised himself, and listened attentively, and + his face took an expression of surprise and deadly anger. The song came + nearer and nearer to the cabin, and, in a few seconds, an Indian, passing + through an open space in the jungle, approached the spot where the Thug + lay concealed. + </p> + <p> + The latter unwound from his waist a long thin cord, to one of the ends of + which was attached a leaden ball, of the form and size of an egg; having + fastened the other end of this cord to his right wrist, the Strangler + again listened, and then disappeared, crawling through the tall grass in + the direction of the Indian, who still advanced slowly, without + interrupting his soft and plaintive song. + </p> + <p> + He was a young fellow scarcely twenty, with a bronzed complexion, the + slave of Djalma, his vest of blue cotton was confined at the waist by a + parti-colored sash; he wore a red turban, and silver rings in his ears and + about his wrists. He was bringing a message to his master, who, during the + great heat of the day was reposing in the ajoupa, which stood at some + distance from the house he inhabited. + </p> + <p> + Arriving at a place where two paths separated, the slave, without + hesitation took that which led to the cabin, from which he was now scarce + forty paces distant. + </p> + <p> + One of those enormous Java butterflies, whose wings extend six or eight + inches in length, and offer to the eye two streaks of gold on a ground of + ultramarine, fluttering from leaf to leaf, alighted on a bush of Cape + jasmine, within the reach of the young Indian. The slave stopped in his + song, stood still, advanced first a foot, then a hand, and seized the + butterfly. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly he sees a dark figure rise before him; he hears a whizzing noise + like that of a sling; he feels a cord, thrown with as much rapidity as + force, encircle his neck with a triple band; and, almost in the same + instant, the leaden ball strikes violently against the back of his head. + </p> + <p> + This attack was so abrupt and unforseen, that Djalma’s servant could + not even utter a single cry, a single groan. He tottered—the + Strangler gave a vigorous pull at the cord—the bronzed countenance + of the slave became purple, and he fell upon his knees, convulsively + moving his arms. Then the Strangler threw him quite down, and pulled the + cord so violently, that the blood spurted from the skin. The victim + struggled for a moment—and all was over. + </p> + <p> + During his short but intense agony, the murderer, kneeling before his + victim, and watching with ardent eye his least convulsions, seemed plunged + into an ecstasy of ferocious joy. His nostrils dilated, the veins of his + neck and temples were swollen, and the same savage laugh, which had curled + his lips at the aspect of the sleeping Djalma, again displayed his pointed + black teeth, which a nervous trembling of the jaws made to chatter. But + soon he crossed his arms upon his heaving breast, bowed his forehead, and + murmured some mysterious words, which sounded like an invocation or a + prayer. Immediately after, he returned to the contemplation of the dead + body. The hyena and the tiger-cat, who, before devouring, crouch beside + the prey that they have surprised or hunted down, have not a wilder or + more sanguinary look than this man. + </p> + <p> + But, remembering that his task was not yet accomplished tearing himself + unwillingly from the hideous spectacle, he unbound the cord from the neck + of his victim, fastened it round his own body, dragged the corpse out of + the path, and, without attempting to rob it of its silver rings, concealed + it in a thick part of the jungle. + </p> + <p> + Then the Strangler again began to creep on his knees and belly, till he + arrived at the cabin of Djalma—that cabin constructed of mats + suspended from bamboos. After listening attentively, he drew from his + girdle a knife, the sharp-pointed blade of which was wrapped in a + fig-leaf, and made in the matting an incision of three feet in length. + This was done with such quickness, and with so fine a blade, that the + light touch of the diamond cutting glass would have made more noise. + Seeing, by means of this opening, which was to serve him for a passage, + that Djalma was still fast asleep, the Thug, with incredible temerity, + glided into the cabin. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0018" id="link2HCH0018"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XVIII. THE TATTOOING + </h2> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>he heavens, which + had been till now of transparent blue, became gradually of a greenish + tint, and the sun was veiled in red, lurid vapor. This strange light gave + to every object a weird appearance, of which one might form an idea, by + looking at a landscape through a piece of copper colored glass. In those + climates, this phenomenon, when united with an increase of burning heat, + always announces the approach of a storm. + </p> + <p> + From time to time there was a passing odor of sulphur; then the leaves, + slightly shaken by electric currents, would tremble upon their stalks; + till again all would return to the former motionless silence. The weight + of the burning atmosphere, saturated with sharp perfumes, became almost + intolerable. Large drops of sweat stood in pearls on the forehead of + Djalma, still plunged in enervating sleep—for it no longer resembled + rest, but a painful stupor. + </p> + <p> + The Strangler glided like a reptile along the sides of the ajoupa, and, + crawling on his belly, arrived at the sleeping-mat of Djalma, beside which + he squatted himself, so as to occupy as little space as possible. Then + began a fearful scene, by reason of the mystery and silence which + surrounded it. + </p> + <p> + Djalma’s life was at the mercy of the Strangler. The latter, resting + upon his hands and knees, with his neck stretched forward, his eye fixed + and dilated, continued motionless as a wild beast about to spring. Only a + slight nervous trembling of the jaws agitated that mask of bronze. + </p> + <p> + But soon his hideous features revealed a violent struggle that was passing + within him—a struggle between the thirst, the craving for the + enjoyment of murder, which the recent assassination of the slave had made + still more active, and the orders he had received not to attempt the life + of Djalma, though the design, which brought him to the ajoupa, might + perhaps be as fatal to the young Indian as death itself. Twice did the + Strangler, with look of flame, resting only on his left hand, seize with + his right the rope’s end; and twice his hand fell—the instinct + of murder yielding to a powerful will, of which the Malay acknowledged the + irresistible empire. + </p> + <p> + In him, the homicidal craving must have amounted to madness, for, in these + hesitations, he lost much precious time: at any moment, Djalma, whose + vigor, skill, and courage were known and feared, might awake from his + sleep, and, though unarmed, he would prove a terrible adversary. At length + the Thug made up his mind; with a suppressed sigh of regret, he set about + accomplishing his task. + </p> + <p> + This task would have appeared impossible to any one else. The reader may + judge. + </p> + <p> + Djalma, with his face turned towards the left, leaned his head upon his + curved arm. It was first necessary, without waking him, to oblige him to + turn his face towards the right (that is, towards the door), so that, in + case of his being half-roused, his first glance might not fall upon the + Strangler. The latter, to accomplish his projects, would have to remain + many minutes in the cabin. + </p> + <p> + The heavens became darker; the heat arrived at its last degree of + intensity; everything combined to increase the torpor of the sleeper, and + so favor the Strangler’s designs. Kneeling down close to Djalma, he + began, with the tips of his supple, well-oiled fingers, to stroke the + brow, temples, and eyelids of the young Indian, but with such extreme + lightness, that the contact of the two skins was hardly sensible. When + this kind of magnetic incantation had lasted for some seconds, the sweat, + which bathed the forehead of Djalma, became more abundant: he heaved a + smothered sigh, and the muscles of his face gave several twitches, for the + strokings, although too light to rouse him, yet caused in him a feeling of + indefinable uneasiness. + </p> + <p> + Watching him with his restless and burning eye, the Strangler continued + his maneuvers with so much patience, that Djalma, still sleeping, but no + longer able to bear this vague, annoying sensation, raised his right hand + mechanically to his face, as if he would have brushed away an importunate + insect. But he had not strength to do it; almost immediately after, his + hand, inert and heavy, fell back upon his chest. The Strangler saw, by + this symptom, that he was attaining his object, and continued to stroke, + with the same address, the eyelids, brow, and temples. + </p> + <p> + Whereupon Djalma, more and more oppressed by heavy sleep, and having + neither strength nor will to raise his hand to his face, mechanically + turned round his head, which fell languidly upon his right shoulder, + seeking by this change of attitude, to escape from the disagreeable + sensation which pursued him. The first point gained, the Strangler could + act more freely. + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:65%;"> + <img src="images/10179m.jpg" alt="10179m " width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/10179.jpg"><i>Original</i></a> + </h5> + <p> + To render as profound as possible the sleep he had half interrupted, he + now strove to imitate the vampire, and, feigning the action of a fan, he + rapidly moved his extended hands about the burning face of the young + Indian. Alive to a feeling of such sudden and delicious coolness, in the + height of suffocating heat, the countenance of Djalma brightened, his + bosom heaved, his half-opened lips drank in the grateful air, and he fell + into a sleep only the more invincible, because it had been at first + disturbed, and was now yielded to under the influence of a pleasing + sensation. + </p> + <p> + A sudden flash of lightning illumined the shady dome that sheltered the + ajoupa: fearing that the first clap of thunder might rouse the young + Indian, the Strangler hastened to complete his Task. Djalma lay on his + back, with his head resting on his right shoulder, and his left arm + extended; the Thug, crouching at his left side, ceased by degrees the + process of fanning; then, with incredible dexterity, he succeeded in + rolling up, above the elbow, the long wide sleeve of white muslin that + covered the left arm of the sleeper. + </p> + <p> + He next drew from the pocket of his drawers a copper box, from which he + took a very fine, sharp-pointed needle, and a piece of a black-looking + root. He pricked this root several times with the needle, and on each + occasion there issued from it a white, glutinous liquid. + </p> + <p> + When the Strangler thought the needle sufficiently impregnated with this + juice, he bent down, and began to blow gently over the inner surface of + Djalma’s arm, so as to cause a fresh sensation of coolness; then, + with the point of his needle, he traced almost imperceptibly on the skin + of the sleeping youth some mysterious and symbolical signs. All this was + performed so cleverly and the point of the needle was so fine and keen, + that Djalma did not feel the action of the acid upon the skin. + </p> + <p> + The signs, which the Strangler had traced, soon appeared on the surface, + at first in characters of a pale rose-color, as fine as a hair; but such + was the slowly corrosive power of the juice, that, as it worked and spread + beneath the skin, they would become in a few hours of a violet red, and as + apparent as they were now almost invisible. + </p> + <p> + The Strangler, having so perfectly succeeded in his project, threw a last + look of ferocious longing on the slumbering Indian, and creeping away from + the mat, regained the opening by which he had entered the cabin; next, + closely uniting the edges of the incision, so as to obviate all suspicion, + he disappeared just as the thunder began to rumble hoarsely in the + distance.(4) + </p> + <p> + (4) We read in the letters of the late Victor Jacquemont upon India, with + regard to the incredible dexterity of these men: “They crawl on the + ground, ditches, in the furrows of fields, imitate a hundred different + voices, and dissipate the effect of any accidental noise by raising the + yelp of the jackal or note of some bird—then are silent, and another + imitates the call of the same animal in the distance. They can molest a + sleeper by all sorts of noises and slight touches, and make his body and + limbs take any position which suits their purpose.” Count Edward de + Warren, in his excellent work on English India, which we shall have again + occasion to quote, expresses himself in the same manner as to the + inconceivable address of the Indians: “They have the art,” + says he, “to rob you, without interrupting your sleep, of the very + sheet in which you are enveloped. This is not ‘a traveller’s + tale.’ but a fact. The movements of the bheel are those of the + serpent. If you sleep in your tent, with a servant lying across each + entrance, the bheel will come and crouch on the outside, in some shady + corner, where he can hear the breathing of those within. As soon as the + European sleeps, he feels sure of success, for the Asiatic will not long + resist the attraction of repose. At the proper moment, he makes a vertical + incision in the cloth of the tent, on the spot where he happens to be, and + just large enough to admit him. He glides through like a phantom, without + making the least grain of sand creak beneath his tread. He is perfectly + naked, and all his body is rubbed over with oil; a two-edged knife is + suspended from his neck. He will squat down close to your couch, and, with + incredible coolness and dexterity, will gather up the sheet in very little + folds, so as to occupy the least surface possible; then, passing to the + other side, he will lightly tickle the sleeper, whom he seems to + magnetize, till the latter shrinks back involuntarily, and ends by turning + round, and leaving the sheet folded behind him. Should he awake, and + strive to seize the robber, he catches at a slippery form, which slides + through his hands like an eel; should he even succeed in seizing him, it + would be fatal—the dagger strikes him to the heart, he falls bathed + in his blood, and the assassin disappears.”—E. S. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0019" id="link2HCH0019"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIX. THE SMUGGLER + </h2> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>he tempest of the + morning has long been over. The sun is verging towards the horizon. Some + hours have elapsed, since the Strangler introduced himself into Djalma’s + cabin, and tattooed him with a mysterious sign during his sleep. + </p> + <p> + A horseman advances rapidly down a long avenue of spreading trees. + Sheltered by the thick and verdant arch, a thousand birds salute the + splendid evening with songs and circlings; red and green parrots climb, by + help of their hooked beaks, to the top of pink-blossomed acacias; large + Morea birds of the finest and richest blue, whose throats and long tails + change in the light to a golden brown, are chasing the prince oriels, + clothed in their glossy feathers of black and orange; Kolo doves, of a + changeable violet hue, are gently cooing by the side of the birds of + paradise, in whose brilliant plumage are mingled the prismatic colors of + the emerald and ruby, the topaz and sapphire. + </p> + <p> + This avenue, a little raised, commanded a view of a small pond, which + reflected at intervals the green shade of tamarind trees. In the calm, + limpid waters, many fish were visible, some with silver scales and purple + fins, others gleaming with azure and vermilion; so still were they that + they looked as if set in a mass of bluish crystal, and, as they dwelt + motionless near the surface of the pool, on which played a dazzling ray of + the sun, they revelled in the enjoyment of the light and heat. A thousand + insects—living gems, with wings of flame—glided, fluttered and + buzzed over the transparent wave, in which, at an extraordinary depth, + were mirrored the variegated tints of the aquatic plants on the bank. + </p> + <p> + It is impossible to give an adequate idea of the exuberant nature of this + scene, luxuriant in the sunlight, colors, and perfumes, which served, so + to speak, as a frame to the young and brilliant rider, who was advancing + along the avenue. It was Djalma. He had not yet perceived the indelible + marks, which the Strangler had traced upon his left arm. + </p> + <p> + His Japanese mare, of slender make, full of fire and vigor, is black as + night. A narrow red cloth serves instead of saddle. To moderate the + impetuous bounds of the animal, Djalma uses a small steel bit, with + headstall and reins of twisted scarlet silk, fine as a thread. + </p> + <p> + Not one of those admirable riders, sculptured so masterly on the frieze of + the Parthenon, sits his horse more gracefully and proudly than this young + Indian, whose fine face, illumined by the setting sun, is radiant with + serene happiness; his eyes sparkle with joy, and his dilated nostrils and + unclosed lips inhale with delight the balmy breeze, that brings to him the + perfume of flowers and the scent of fresh leaves, for the trees are still + moist from the abundant rain that fell after the storm. + </p> + <p> + A red cap, similar to that worn by the Greeks, surmounting the black locks + of Djalma, sets off to advantage the golden tint of his complexion; his + throat is bare; he is clad in his robe of white muslin with large sleeves, + confined at the waist by a scarlet sash; very full drawers, in white + cotton stuff, leave half uncovered his tawny and polished legs; their + classic curve stands out from the dark sides of the horse, which he + presses tightly between his muscular calves. He has no stirrups; his foot, + small and narrow, is shod with a sandal of morocco leather. + </p> + <p> + The rush of his thoughts, by turns impetuous and restrained, was expressed + in some degree by the pace he imparted to his horse—now bold and + precipitate, like the flight of unbridled imagination—now calm and + measured, like the reflection which succeeds an idle dream. But, in all + this fantastic course, his least movements were distinguished by a proud, + independent and somewhat savage grace. + </p> + <p> + Dispossessed of his paternal territory by the English, and at first + detained by them as a state-prisoner after the death of his father—who + (as M. Joshua Van Dael had written to M. Rodin) had fallen sword in hand—Djalma + had at length been restored to liberty. Abandoning the continent of India, + and still accompanied by General Simon, who had lingered hard by the + prison of his old friend’s son, the young Indian came next to + Batavia, the birthplace of his mother, to collect the modest inheritance + of his maternal ancestors. And amongst this property, so long despised or + forgotten by his father, he found some important papers, and a medal + exactly similar to that worn by Rose and Blanche. + </p> + <p> + General Simon was not more surprised than pleased at this discovery, which + not only established a tie of kindred between his wife and Djalma’s + mother, but which also seemed to promise great advantages for the future. + Leaving Djalma at Batavia, to terminate some business there, he had gone + to the neighboring island of Sumatra, in the hope of finding a vessel that + would make the passage to Europe directly and rapidly; for it was now + necessary that, cost what it might, the young Indian also should be at + Paris on the 13th February, 1832. Should General Simon find a vessel ready + to sail for Europe, he was to return immediately, to fetch Djalma; and the + latter, expecting him daily, was now going to the pier of Batavia, hoping + to see the father of Rose and Blanche arrive by the mail boat from + Sumatra. + </p> + <p> + A few words are here necessary on the early life of the son of Kadja sing. + </p> + <p> + Having lost his mother very young, and brought up with rude simplicity, he + had accompanied his father, whilst yet a child, to the great tiger hunts, + as dangerous as battles; and, in the first dawn of youth, he had followed + him to the stern bloody war, which he waged in defence of his country. + Thus living, from the time of his mother’s death, in the midst of + forests and mountains and continual combats, his vigorous and ingenuous + nature had preserved itself pure, and he well merited the name of “The + Generous” bestowed on him. Born a prince, he was—which by no + means follows—a prince indeed. During the period of his captivity, + the silent dignity of his bearing had overawed his jailers. Never a + reproach, never a complaint—a proud and melancholy calm was all that + he opposed to a treatment as unjust as it was barbarous, until he was + restored to freedom. + </p> + <p> + Having thus been always accustomed to a patriarchal life, or to a war of + mountaineers, which he had only quitted to pass a few months in prison, + Djalma knew nothing, so to speak, of civilized society. Without its + exactly amounting to a defect, he certainly carried his good qualities to + their extreme limits. Obstinately faithful to his pledged word, devoted to + the death, confiding to blindness, good almost to a complete forgetfulness + of himself, he was inflexible towards ingratitude, falsehood, or perfidy. + He would have felt no compunction to sacrifice a traitor, because, could + he himself have committed a treason, he would have thought it only just to + expiate it with his life. + </p> + <p> + He was, in a word, the man of natural feelings, absolute and entire. Such + a man, brought into contact with the temperaments, calculations, + falsehoods, deceptions, tricks, restrictions, and hollowness of a refined + society, such as Paris, for example, would, without doubt, form a very + curious subject for speculation. We raise this hypothesis, because, since + his journey to France had been determined on, Djalma had one fixed, ardent + desire—to be in Paris. + </p> + <p> + In Paris—that enchanted city—of which, even in Asia, the land + of enchantment, so many marvelous tales were told. + </p> + <p> + What chiefly inflamed the fresh, vivid imagination of the young Indian, + was the thought of French women—those attractive Parisian beauties, + miracles of elegance and grace, who eclipsed, he was informed, even the + magnificence of the capitals of the civilized world. And at this very + moment, in the brightness of that warm and splendid evening, surrounded by + the intoxication of flowers and perfumes, which accelerated the pulses of + his young fiery heart, Djalma was dreaming of those exquisite creatures, + whom his fancy loved to clothe in the most ideal garbs. + </p> + <p> + It seemed to him as if, at the end of the avenue, in the midst of that + sheet of golden light, which the trees encompassed with their full, green + arch, he could see pass and repass, white and sylph-like, a host of + adorable and voluptuous phantoms, that threw him kisses from the tips of + their rosy fingers. Unable to restrain his burning emotions, carried away + by a strange enthusiasm, Djalma uttered exclamations of joy, deep, manly, + and sonorous, and made his vigorous courser bound under him in the + excitement of a mad delight. Just then a sunbeam, piercing the dark vault + of the avenue, shone full upon him. + </p> + <p> + For several minutes, a man had been advancing rapidly along a path, which, + at its termination, intersected the avenue diagonally. He stopped a moment + in the shade, looking at Djalma with astonishment. It was indeed a + charming sight, to behold, in the midst of a blaze of dazzling lustre, + this youth, so handsome, joyous, and ardent, clad in his white and flowing + vestments, gayly and lightly seated on his proud black mare, who covered + her red bridle with her foam, and whose long tail and thick mane floated + on the evening breeze. + </p> + <p> + But, with that reaction which takes place in all human desires, Djalma + soon felt stealing over him a sentiment of soft, undefinable melancholy. + He raised his hand to his eyes, now dimmed with moisture, and allowed the + reins to fall on the mane of his docile steed, which, instantly stopping, + stretched out its long neck, and turned its head in the direction of the + personage, whom it could see approaching through the coppice. + </p> + <p> + This man, Mahal the Smuggler, was dressed nearly like European sailors. He + wore jacket and trousers of white duck, a broad red sash, and a very + low-crowned straw hat. His face was brown, with strongly-marked features, + and, though forty years of age, he was quite beardless. + </p> + <p> + In another moment, Mahal was close to the young Indian. “You are + Prince Djalma?” said he, in not very good French, raising his hand + respectfully to his hat. + </p> + <p> + “What would you?” said the Indian. + </p> + <p> + “You are the son of Kadja-sing?” + </p> + <p> + “Once again, what would you?” + </p> + <p> + “The friend of General Simon?” + </p> + <p> + “General Simon?” cried Djalma. + </p> + <p> + “You are going to meet him, as you have gone every evening, since + you expect his return from Sumatra?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, but how do you know all this?” said the Indian looking + at the Smuggler with as much surprise as curiosity. + </p> + <p> + “Is he not to land at Batavia, to-day or to-morrow?” + </p> + <p> + “Are you sent by him?” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps,” said Mahal, with a distrustful air. “But are + you really the son of Kadja-sing?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I tell you—but where have you seen General Simon?” + </p> + <p> + “If you are the son of Kadja-sing,” resumed Mahal, continuing + to regard Djalma with a suspicious eye, “what is your surname?” + </p> + <p> + “My sire was called the ‘Father of the Generous,’” + answered the young Indian, as a shade of sorrow passed over his fine + countenance. + </p> + <p> + These words appeared in part to convince Mahal of the identity of Djalma; + but, wishing doubtless to be still more certain, he resumed: “You + must have received, two days ago, a letter from General Simon, written + from Sumatra?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; but why so many questions?” + </p> + <p> + “To assure myself that you are really the son of Kadja-sing, and to + execute the orders I have received.” + </p> + <p> + “From whom?” + </p> + <p> + “From General Simon.” + </p> + <p> + “But where is he?” + </p> + <p> + “When I have proof that you are Prince Djalma, I will tell you. I + was informed that you would be mounted on a black mare, with a red bridle. + But—” + </p> + <p> + “By the soul of my mother! speak what you have to say!” + </p> + <p> + “I will tell you all—if you can tell me what was the printed + paper, contained in the last letter that General Simon wrote you from + Sumatra.” + </p> + <p> + “It was a cutting from a French newspaper.” + </p> + <p> + “Did it announce good or bad news for the general?” + </p> + <p> + “Good news—for it related that, during his absence, they had + acknowledged the last rank and title bestowed on him by the Emperor, as + they had done for others of his brothers in arms, exiled like him.” + </p> + <p> + “You are indeed Prince Djalma,” said the Smuggler, after a + moment’s reflection. “I may speak. General Simon landed last + night in Java, but on a desert part of the coast.” + </p> + <p> + “On a desert part?” + </p> + <p> + “Because he has to hide himself.” + </p> + <p> + “Hide himself!” exclaimed Djalma, in amazement; “why?” + </p> + <p> + “That I don’t know.” + </p> + <p> + “But where is he?” asked Djalma, growing pale with alarm. + </p> + <p> + “He is three leagues hence—near the sea-shore—in the + ruins of Tchandi.” + </p> + <p> + “Obliged to hide himself!” repeated Djalma, and his + countenance expressed increasing surprise and anxiety. + </p> + <p> + “Without being certain, I think it is because of a duel he fought in + Sumatra,” said the Smuggler, mysteriously. + </p> + <p> + “A duel—with whom?” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t know—I am not at all certain on the subject. + But do you know the ruins of Tchandi?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “The general expects you there; that is what he ordered me to tell + you.” + </p> + <p> + “So you came with him from Sumatra?” + </p> + <p> + “I was pilot of the little smuggling coaster, that landed him in the + night on a lonely beach. He knew that you went every day to the mole, to + wait for him; I was almost sure that I should meet you. He gave me details + about the letter you received from him as a proof that he had sent me. If + he could have found the means of writing, he would have written.” + </p> + <p> + “But he did not tell you why he was obliged to hide himself?” + </p> + <p> + “He told me nothing. Certain words made me suspect what I told you—a + duel.” + </p> + <p> + Knowing the mettle of General Simon, Djalma thought the suspicions of the + Smuggler not unfounded. After a moment’s silence he said to him: + “Can you undertake to lead home my horse? My dwelling is without the + town—there, in the midst of those trees—by the side of the new + mosque. In ascending the mountain of Tchandi, my horse would be in my way; + I shall go much faster on foot.” + </p> + <p> + “I know where you live; General Simon told me. I should have gone + there if I had not met you. Give me your horse.” + </p> + <p> + Djalma sprang lightly to the ground, threw the bridle to Mahal, unrolled + one end of his sash, took out a silk purse, and gave it to the Smuggler, + saying: “You have been faithful and obedient. Here!—it is a + trifle—but I have no more.” + </p> + <p> + “Kadja-sing was rightly called the ‘Father of the Generous,’” + said the Smuggler, bowing with respect and gratitude. He took the road to + Batavia, leading Djalma’s horse. The young Indian, on the contrary, + plunged into the coppice, and, walking with great strides, he directed his + course towards the mountain, on which were the ruins of Tchandi, where he + could not arrive before night. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0020" id="link2HCH0020"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XX. M. JOSHUA VAN DAEL. + </h2> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">M</span>. Joshua Van Dael + a Dutch merchant, and correspondent of M. Rodin, was born at Batavia, the + capital of the island of Java; his parents had sent him to be educated at + Pondicherry, in a celebrated religious house, long established in that + place, and belonging to the “Society of Jesus.” It was there + that he was initiated into the order as “professor of the three + vows,” or lay member, commonly called “temporal coadjutor.” + </p> + <p> + Joshua was a man of probity that passed for stainless; of strict accuracy + in business, cold, careful, reserved, and remarkably skillful and + sagacious; his financial operations were almost always successful, for a + protecting power gave him ever in time, knowledge of events which might + advantageously influence his commercial transactions. The religious house + of Pondicherry was interested in his affairs, having charged him with the + exportation and exchange of the produce of its large possessions in this + colony. + </p> + <p> + Speaking little, hearing much, never disputing, polite in the extreme—giving + seldom, but with choice and purpose—Joshua, without inspiring + sympathy, commanded generally that cold respect, which is always paid to + the rigid moralist; for instead of yielding to the influence of lax and + dissolute colonial manners, he appeared to live with great regularity, and + his exterior had something of austerity about it, which tended to overawe. + </p> + <p> + The following scene took place at Batavia, while Djalma was on his way to + the ruins of Tchandi in the hope of meeting General Simon. + </p> + <p> + M. Joshua had just retired into his cabinet, in which were many shelves + filled with paper boxes, and huge ledgers and cash boxes lying open upon + desks. The only window of this apartment, which was on the ground floor, + looked out upon a narrow empty court, and was protected externally by + strong iron bars; instead of glass, it was fitted with a Venetian blind, + because of the extreme heat of the climate. + </p> + <p> + M. Joshua, having placed upon his desk a taper in a glass globe, looked at + the clock. “Half-past nine,” said he. “Mahal ought soon + to be here.” + </p> + <p> + Saying this, he went out, passing through an antechamber, opened a second + thick door, studded with nail-heads, in the Dutch fashion, cautiously + entered the court (so as not to be heard by the people in the house), and + drew back the secret bolt of a gate six feet high, formidably garnished + with iron spikes. Leaving this gate unfastened, he regained his cabinet, + after he had successively and carefully closed the two other doors behind + him. + </p> + <p> + M. Joshua next seated himself at his desk, and took from a drawer a long + letter, or rather statement, commenced some time before, and continued day + by day. It is superfluous to observe, that the letter already mentioned, + as addressed to M. Rodin, was anterior to the liberation of Djalma and his + arrival at Batavia. + </p> + <p> + The present statement was also addressed to M. Rodin, and Van Dael thus + went on with it: + </p> + <p> + “Fearing the return of General Simon, of which I had been informed + by intercepting his letters—I have already told you, that I had + succeeded in being employed by him as his agent here; having then read his + letters, and sent them on as if untouched to Djalma, I felt myself + obliged, from the pressure of the circumstances, to have recourse to + extreme measures—taking care always to preserve appearances, and + rendering at the same time a signal service to humanity, which last reason + chiefly decided me. + </p> + <p> + “A new danger imperiously commanded these measures. The steamship + ‘Ruyter’ came in yesterday, and sails tomorrow in the course + of the day. She is to make the voyage to Europe via the Arabian Gulf; her + passengers will disembark at Suez, cross the Isthmus, and go on board + another vessel at Alexandria, which will bring them to France. This + voyage, as rapid as it is direct, will not take more than seven or eight + weeks. We are now at the end of October; Prince Djalma might then be in + France by the commencement of the month of January; and according to your + instructions, of which I know not the motive, but which I execute with + zeal and submission, his departure must be prevented at all hazards, + because, you tell me, some of the gravest interests of the Society would + be compromised, by the arrival of this young Indian in Paris before the + 13th of February. Now, if I succeed, as I hope, in making him miss this + opportunity of the ‘Ruyter’ it will be materially impossible + for him to arrive in France before the month of April; for the ‘Ruyter’ + is the only vessel which makes the direct passage, the others taking at + least four or five months to reach Europe. + </p> + <p> + “Before telling you the means which I have thought right to employ, + to detain Prince Djalma—of the success of which means I am yet + uncertain—it is well that you should be acquainted with the + following facts. + </p> + <p> + “They have just discovered, in British India, a community whose + members call themselves ‘Brothers of the Good Work,’ or + ‘Phansegars,’ which signifies simply ‘Thugs’ or + ‘Stranglers;’ these murderers do not shed blood, but strangle + their victims, less for the purpose of robbing them, than in obedience to + a homicidal vocation, and to the laws of an infernal divinity named by + them ‘Bowanee.’ + </p> + <p> + “I cannot better give you an idea of this horrible sect, than by + transcribing here some lines from the introduction of a report by Colonel + Sleeman, who has hunted out this dark association with indefatigable zeal. + The report in question was published about two months ago. Here is the + extract; it is the colonel who speaks: + </p> + <p> + “‘From 1822 to 1824, when I was charged with the magistracy + and civil administration of the district of Nersingpore, not a murder, not + the least robbery was committed by an ordinary criminal, without my being + immediately informed of it; but if any one had come and told me at this + period, that a band of hereditary assassins by profession lived in the + village of Kundelie, within about four hundred yards of my court of + justice—that the beautiful groves of the village of Mundesoor, + within a day’s march of my residence, formed one of the most + frightful marts of assassination in all India—that numerous bands of + ‘Brothers of the Good Work,’ coming from Hindostan and the + Deccan, met annually beneath these shades, as at a solemn festival, to + exercise their dreadful vocation upon all the roads which cross each other + in this locality—I should have taken such a person for a madman, or + one who had been imposed upon by idle tales. And yet nothing could be + truer; hundreds of travellers had been buried every year in the groves of + Mundesoor; a whole tribe of assassins lived close to my door, at the very + time I was supreme magistrate of the province, and extended their + devastations to the cities of Poonah and Hyderabad. I shall never forget, + when, to convince me of the fact, one of the chiefs of the Stranglers, who + had turned informer against them, caused thirteen bodies to be dug up from + the ground beneath my tent, and offered to produce any number from the + soil in the immediate vicinity.‘(5) + </p> + <p> + “These few words of Colonel Sleeman will give some idea of this + dread society, which has its laws, duties, customs, opposed to all other + laws, human and divine. Devoted to each other, even to heroism, blindly + obedient to their chiefs, who profess themselves the immediate + representatives of their dark divinity, regarding as enemies all who do + not belong to them, gaining recruits everywhere by a frightful system of + proselytising—these apostles of a religion of murder go preaching + their abominable doctrines in the shade, and spreading their immense net + over the whole of India. + </p> + <p> + “Three of their principal chiefs, and one of their adepts, flying + from the determined pursuit of the English governor-general, having + succeeded in making their escape, had arrived at the Straits of Malacca, + at no great distance from our island; a smuggler, who is also something of + a pirate, attached to their association, and by name Mahal, took them on + board his coasting vessel, and brought them hither, where they think + themselves for some time in safety—as, following the advice of the + smuggler, they lie concealed in a thick forest, in which are many ruined + temples and numerous subterranean retreats. + </p> + <p> + “Amongst these chiefs, all three remarkably intelligent, there is + one in particular, named Faringhea, whose extraordinary energy and eminent + qualities make him every way redoubtable. He is of the mixed race, half + white and Hindoo, has long inhabited towns in which are European factories + and speaks English and French very well. The other two chiefs are a Negro + and a Hindoo; the adept is a Malay. + </p> + <p> + “The smuggler, Mahal, considering that he could obtain a large + reward by giving up these three chiefs and their adept, came to me, + knowing, as all the world knows, my intimate relations with a person who + has great influence with our governor. Two days ago, he offered me, on + certain conditions, to deliver up the Negro, the half-caste, the Hindoo, + and the Malay. These conditions are—a considerable sum of money, and + a free passage on board a vessel sailing for Europe or America, in order + to escape the implacable vengeance of the Thugs. + </p> + <p> + “I joyfully seized the occasion to hand over three such murderers to + human justice, and I promised Mahal to arrange matters for him with the + governor, but also on certain conditions, innocent in themselves, and + which concerned Djalma. Should my project succeed, I will explain myself + more at length; I shall soon know the result, for I expect Mahal every + minute. + </p> + <p> + “But before I close these despatches, which are to go tomorrow by + the ‘Ruyter’—in which vessel I have also engaged a + passage for Mahal the Smuggler, in the event of the success of my plans—I + must include in parentheses a subject of some importance. + </p> + <p> + “In my last letter, in which I announced to you the death of Djalma’s + father, and his own imprisonment by the English, I asked for some + information as to the solvency of Baron Tripeaud, banker and manufacturer + at Paris, who has also an agency at Calcutta. This information will now be + useless, if what I have just learned should, unfortunately, turn out to be + correct, and it will be for you to act according to circumstances. + </p> + <p> + “This house at Calcutta owes considerable sums both to me and our + colleague at Pondicherry, and it is said that M. Tripeaud has involved + himself to a dangerous extent in attempting to ruin, by opposition, a very + flourishing establishment, founded some time ago by M. Francois Hardy, an + eminent manufacturer. I am assured that M. Tripeaud has already sunk and + lost a large capital in this enterprise: he has no doubt done a great deal + of harm to M. Francois Hardy; but he has also, they say, seriously + compromised his own fortune—and, were he to fail, the effects of his + disaster would be very fatal to us, seeing that he owes a large sum of + money to me and to us. + </p> + <p> + “In this state of things it would be very desirable if, by the + employment of the powerful means of every kind at our disposal, we could + completely discredit and break down the house of M. Francois Hardy, + already shaken by M. Tripeaud’s violent opposition. In that case, + the latter would soon regain all he has lost; the ruin of his rival would + insure his prosperity, and our demands would be securely covered. + </p> + <p> + “Doubtless, it is painful, it is sad, to be obliged to have recourse + to these extreme measures, only to get back our own; but, in these days, + are we not surely justified in sometimes using the arms that are + incessantly turned against us? If we are reduced to such steps by the + injustice and wickedness of men, we may console ourselves with the + reflection that we only seek to preserve our worldly possessions, in order + to devote them to the greater glory of God; whilst, in the hands of our + enemies, those very goods are the dangerous instruments of perdition and + scandal. + </p> + <p> + “After all it is merely a humble proposition that I submit to you. + Were it in my power to take an active part in the matter, I should do + nothing of myself. My will is not my own. It belongs, with all I possess, + to those whom I have sworn absolute obedience.” + </p> + <p> + Here a slight noise interrupted M. Joshua, and drew his attention from his + work. He rose abruptly, and went straight to the window. Three gentle taps + were given on the outside of one of the slats of the blind. + </p> + <p> + “Is it you, Mahal?” asked M. Joshua, in a low voice. + </p> + <p> + “It is I,” was answered from without, also in a low tone. + </p> + <p> + “And the Malay?” + </p> + <p> + “He has succeeded.” + </p> + <p> + “Really!” cried M. Joshua, with an expression of great + satisfaction; “are you sure of it?” + </p> + <p> + “Quite sure: there is no devil more clever and intrepid.” + </p> + <p> + “And Djalma?” + </p> + <p> + “The parts of the letter, which I quoted, convinced him that I came + from General Simon, and that he would find him at the ruins of Tchandi.” + </p> + <p> + “Therefore, at this moment—” + </p> + <p> + “Djalma goes to the ruins, where he will encounter the black, the + half blood, and the Indian. It is there they have appointed to meet the + Malay, who tattooed the prince during his sleep.” + </p> + <p> + “Have you been to examine the subterraneous passage?” + </p> + <p> + “I went there yesterday. One of the stones of the pedestal of the + statue turns upon itself; the stairs are large; it will do.” + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:65%;"> + <img src="images/10193m.jpg" alt="10193m " width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/10193.jpg"><i>Original</i></a> + </h5> + <p> + “And the three chiefs have no suspicion?” + </p> + <p> + “None—I saw them in the morning—and this evening the + Malay came to tell me all, before he went to join them at the ruins of + Tchandi—for he had remained hidden amongst the bushes, not daring to + go there in the daytime.” + </p> + <p> + “Mahal—if you have told the truth, and if all succeed—your + pardon and ample reward are assured to you. Your berth has been taken on + board the ‘Ruyter;’ you will sail to-morrow; you will thus be + safe from the malice of the Stranglers, who would follow you hither to + revenge the death of their chiefs, Providence having chosen you to deliver + those three great criminals to justice. Heaven will bless you!—Go + and wait for me at the door of the governor’s house; I will + introduce you. The matter is so important that I do not hesitate to + disturb him thus late in the night. Go quickly!—I will follow on my + side.” + </p> + <p> + The steps of Mahal were distinctly audible, as he withdrew precipitately, + and then silence reigned once more in the house. Joshua returned to his + desk, and hastily added these words to the despatch, which he had before + commenced: + </p> + <p> + “Whatever may now happen, it will be impossible for Djalma to leave + Batavia at present. You may rest quite satisfied; he will not be at Paris + by the 13th of next February. As I foresaw, I shall have to be up all + night.—I am just going to the governor’s. To-morrow I will add + a few lines to this long statement, which the steamship ‘Ruyter’ + will convey to Europe.” + </p> + <p> + Having locked up his papers, Joshua rang the bell loudly, and, to the + great astonishment of his servants, not accustomed to see him leave home + in the middle of the night, went in all haste to the residence of the + governor of the island. + </p> + <p> + We now conduct the reader to the ruins of Tchandi. + </p> + <p> + (5) This report is extracted from Count Edward de Warren’s excellent + work, “British India in 1831.”—E. S. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0021" id="link2HCH0021"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXI. THE RUINS OF TCHANDI. To the storm in the middle of the + </h2> + <p> + day, the approach of which so well served the Strangler’s designs + upon Djalma, has succeeded a calm and serene night. The disk of the moon + rises slowly behind a mass of lofty ruins, situated on a hill, in the + midst of a thick wood, about three leagues from Batavia. + </p> + <p> + Long ranges of stone, high walls of brick, fretted away by time, porticoes + covered with parasitical vegetation, stand out boldly from the sheet of + silver light which blends the horizon with the limpid blue of the heavens. + Some rays of the moon, gliding through the opening on one of these + porticoes, fall upon two colossal statues at the foot of an immense + staircase, the loose stones of which are almost entirely concealed by + grass, moss, and brambles. + </p> + <p> + The fragments of one of these statues, broken in the middle, lie strewed + upon the ground; the other, which remains whole and standing, is frightful + to behold. It represents a man of gigantic proportions, with a head three + feet high; the expression of the countenance is ferocious, eyes of + brilliant slaty black are set beneath gray brows, the large, deep mouth + gapes immoderately, and reptiles have made their nest between the lips of + stone; by the light of the moon, a hideous swarm is there dimly visible. A + broad girdle, adorned with symbolic ornaments, encircles the body of this + statue, and fastens a long sword to its right side. The giant has four + extended arms, and, in his great hands, he bears an elephant’s head, + a twisted serpent, a human skull, and a bird resembling a heron. The moon, + shedding her light on the profile of this statue, serves to augment the + weirdness of its aspect. + </p> + <p> + Here and there, enclosed in the half-crumbling walls of brick, are + fragments of stone bas-reliefs, very boldly cut; one of those in the best + preservation represents a man with the head of an elephant, and the wings + of a bat, devouring a child. Nothing can be more gloomy than these ruins, + buried among thick trees of a dark green, covered with frightful emblems, + and seen by the moonlight, in the midst of the deep silence of night. + </p> + <p> + Against one of the walls of this ancient temple, dedicated to some + mysterious and bloody Javanese divinity, leans a kind of hut, rudely + constructed of fragments of brick and stone; the door, made of woven + rushes, is open, and a red light streams from it, which throws its rays on + the tall grass that covers the ground. Three men are assembled in this + hovel, around a clay-lamp, with a wick of cocoanut fibre steeped in + palm-oil. + </p> + <p> + The first of these three, about forty years of age, is poorly clad in the + European fashion; his pale, almost white, complexion, announces that he + belongs to the mixed race, being offspring of a white father and Indian + mother. + </p> + <p> + The second is a robust African negro, with thick lips, vigorous shoulders, + and lank legs; his woolly hair is beginning to turn gray; he is covered + with rags, and stands close beside the Indian. The third personage is + asleep, and stretched on a mat in the corner of the hovel. + </p> + <p> + These three men are the three Thuggee chiefs, who, obliged to fly from the + continent of India, have taken refuge in Java, under the guidance of Mahal + the Smuggler. + </p> + <p> + “The Malay does not return,” said the half-blood, named + Faringhea, the most redoubtable chief of this homicidal sect: “in + executing our orders, he has perhaps been killed by Djalma.” + </p> + <p> + “The storm of this morning brought every reptile out of the earth,” + said the negro; “the Malay must have been bitten, and his body ere + now a nest of serpents.” + </p> + <p> + “To serve the good work,” proceeded Faringhea, with a gloomy + air, “one must know how to brave death.” + </p> + <p> + “And to inflict it,” added the negro. + </p> + <p> + A stifled cry, followed by some inarticulate words, here drew the + attention of these two men, who hastily turned their heads in the + direction of the sleeper. This latter was thirty years old at most. His + beardless face, of a bright copper color, his robe of coarse stuff, his + turban striped brown and yellow, showed that he belonged to the pure + Hindoo race. His sleep appeared agitated by some painful vision; an + abundant sweat streamed over his countenance, contracted by terror; he + spoke in his dream, but his words were brief and broken, and accompanied + with convulsive starts. + </p> + <p> + “Again that dream!” said Faringhea to the negro. “Always + the remembrance of that man.” + </p> + <p> + “What man?” + </p> + <p> + “Do you not remember, how, five years ago, that savage, Colonel + Kennedy, butcher of the Indians, came to the banks of the Ganges, to hunt + the tiger, with twenty horses, four elephants, and fifty servants?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes,” said the negro; “and we three, hunters of + men, made a better day’s sport than he did. Kennedy, his horses, his + elephants, and his numerous servants did not get their tiger—but we + got ours,” he added, with grim irony. “Yes; Kennedy, that + tiger with a human face, fell into our ambush, and the brothers of the + good work offered up their fine prey to our goddess Bowanee.” + </p> + <p> + “If you remember, it was just at the moment when we gave the last + tug to the cord round Kennedy’s neck, that we perceived on a sudden + a traveller close at hand. He had seen us, and it was necessary to make + away with him. Now, since that time,” added Faringhea, “the + remembrance of the murder of that man pursues our brother in his dreams,” + and he pointed to the sleeping Indian. + </p> + <p> + “And even when he is awake,” said the negro, looking at + Faringhea with a significant air. + </p> + <p> + “Listen!” said the other, again pointing to the Indian, who, + in the agitation of his dream, recommenced talking in abrupt sentences; + “listen! he is repeating the answers of the traveller, when we told + him he must die, or serve with us on Thuggee. His mind is still impressed—deeply + impressed—with those words.” + </p> + <p> + And, in fact, the Indian repeated aloud in his sleep, a sort of mysterious + dialogue, of which he himself supplied both questions and answers. + </p> + <p> + “‘Traveller,’ said he, in a voice broken by sudden + pauses, ‘why that black mark on your forehead, stretching from one + temple to the other? It is a mark of doom and your look is sad as death. + Have you been a victim? Come with us; Kallee will avenge you. You have + suffered?’—‘Yes, I have greatly suffered.’—‘For + a long time?’—‘Yes, for a very long time.’—‘You + suffer even now?’—‘Yes, even now.’—What do + you reserve for those who injure you?’—‘My pity.’—‘Will + you not render blow for blow?’—‘I will return love for + hate.’—‘Who are you, then, that render good for evil?’—‘I + am one who loves, and suffers, and forgives.’” + </p> + <p> + “Brother, do you hear?” said the negro to Faringhea; “he + has not forgotten the words of the traveller before his death.” + </p> + <p> + “The vision follows him. Listen! he will speak again. How pale he + is!” Still under the influence of his dream, the Indian continued: + </p> + <p> + “‘Traveller, we are three; we are brave; we have your life in + our hands—you have seen us sacrifice to the good work. Be one of us, + or die—die—die! Oh, that look! Not thus—do not look at + me thus!’” As he uttered these last words, the Indian made a + sudden movement, as if to keep off some approaching object, and awoke with + a start. Then, passing his hand over his moist forehead, he looked round + him with a bewildered eye. + </p> + <p> + “What! again this dream, brother?” said Faringhea. “For + a bold hunter of men, you have a weak head. Luckily, you have a strong + heart and arm.” + </p> + <p> + The other remained a moment silent, his face buried in his hands; then he + replied: “It is long since I last dreamed of that traveller.” + </p> + <p> + “Is he not dead?” said Faringhea, shrugging his shoulders. + “Did you not yourself throw the cord around his neck?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” replied the Indian shuddering. + </p> + <p> + “Did we not dig his grave by the side of Colonel Kennedy’s? + Did we not bury him with the English butcher, under the sand and the + rushes?” said the negro. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, we dug his grave,” said the Indian, trembling; “and + yet, only a year ago, I was seated one evening at the gate of Bombay, + waiting for one of our brothers—the sun was setting behind the + pagoda, to the right of the little hill—the scene is all before me + now—I was seated under a figtree—when I heard a slow, firm, + even step, and, as I turned round my head—I saw him—coming out + of the town.” + </p> + <p> + “A vision,” said the negro; “always the same vision!” + </p> + <p> + “A vision,” added Faringhea, “or a vague resemblance.” + </p> + <p> + “I knew him by the black mark on his forehead; it was none but he. I + remained motionless with fear, gazing at him with eyes aghast. He stopped, + bending upon me his calm, sad look. In spite of myself, I could not help + exclaiming: ‘It is he!’—‘Yes,’ he replied, + in his gentle voice, ‘it is I. Since all whom thou killest must + needs live again,’ and he pointed to heaven as he spoke, ‘why + shouldst thou kill?—Hear me! I have just come from Java; I am going + to the other end of the world, to a country of never-melting snow; but, + here or there, on plains of fire or plains of ice, I shall still be the + same. Even so is it with the souls of those who fall beneath thy + kalleepra; in this world or up above, in this garb or in another, the soul + must still be a soul; thou canst not smite it. Why then kill?’—and + shaking his head sorrowfully, he went on his way, walking slowly, with + downcast eyes; he ascended the hill of the pagoda; I watched him as he + went, without being able to move: at the moment the sun set, he was + standing on the summit of the hill, his tall figure thrown out against the + sky—and so he disappeared. Oh! it was he!” added the Indian + with a shudder, after a long pause: “it was none but he.” + </p> + <p> + In this story the Indian had never varied, though he had often entertained + his companions with the same mysterious adventure. This persistency on his + part had the effect of shaking their incredulity, or at least of inducing + them to seek some natural cause for this apparently superhuman event. + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps,” said Faringhea, after a moment’s reflection, + “the knot round the traveller’s neck got jammed, and some + breath was left him, the air may have penetrated the rushes with which we + covered his grave, and so life have returned to him.” + </p> + <p> + “No, no,” said the Indian, shaking his head, “this man + is not of our race.” + </p> + <p> + “Explain.” + </p> + <p> + “Now I know it!” + </p> + <p> + “What do you know?” + </p> + <p> + “Listen!” said the Indian, in a solemn voice; “the + number of victims that the children of Bowanee have sacrificed since the + commencement of ages, is nothing compared to the immense heap of dead and + dying, whom this terrible traveller leaves behind him in his murderous + march.” + </p> + <p> + “He?” cried the negro and Faringhea. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, he!” repeated the Hindoo, with a convinced accent, that + made its impression upon his companions. “Hear me and tremble!—When + I met this traveller at the gates of Bombay, he came from Java, and was + going towards the north, he said. The very next day, the town was a prey + to the cholera, and we learned sometime after, that this plague had first + broken out here, in Java.” + </p> + <p> + “That is true,” said the negro. + </p> + <p> + “Hear me still further!” resumed the other. “‘I am + going towards the north, to a country of eternal snow,’ said the + traveller to me. The cholera also went towards the north, passing through + Muscat—Ispahan—Tauris—Tiflis—till it overwhelmed + Siberia.” + </p> + <p> + “True,” said Faringhea, becoming thoughtful: + </p> + <p> + “And the cholera,” resumed the Indian, “only travelled + its five or six leagues a day—a man’s tramp—never + appeared in two places at once—but swept on slowly, steadily,—even + as a man proceeds.” + </p> + <p> + At the mention of this strange coincidence, the Hindoo’s companions + looked at each other in amazement. After a silence of some minutes, the + awe-struck negro said to the last speaker: “So you think that this + man—” + </p> + <p> + “I think that this man, whom we killed, restored to life by some + infernal divinity, has been commissioned to bear this terrible scourge + over the earth, and to scatter round his steps that death, from which he + is himself secure. Remember!” added the Indian, with gloomy + enthusiasm, “this awful wayfarer passed through Java—the + cholera wasted Java. He passed through Bombay—the cholera wasted + Bombay. He went towards the north—the cholera wasted the north.” + </p> + <p> + So saying, the Indian fell into a profound reverie. The negro and + Faringhea were seized with gloomy astonishment. + </p> + <p> + The Indian spoke the truth as to the mysterious march (still unexplained) + of that fearful malady, which has never been known to travel more than + five or six leagues a day, or to appear simultaneously in two spots. + Nothing can be more curious, than to trace out, on the maps prepared at + the period in question, the slow, progressive course of this travelling + pestilence, which offers to the astonished eye all the capricious + incidents of a tourist’s journey. Passing this way rather than that—selecting + provinces in a country—towns in a province—one quarter in a + town—one street in a quarter—one house in a street—having + its place of residence and repose, and then continuing its slow, + mysterious, fear inspiring march. + </p> + <p> + The words of the Hindoo, by drawing attention to these dreadful + eccentricities, made a strong impression upon the minds of the negro and + Faringhea—wild natures, brought by horrible doctrines to the + monomania of murder. + </p> + <p> + Yes—for this also is an established fact—there have been in + India members of an abominable community, who killed without motive, + without passion—killed for the sake of killing—for the + pleasure of murder—to substitute death for life—to make of a + living man a corpse, as they have themselves declared in one of their + examinations. + </p> + <p> + The mind loses itself in the attempt to penetrate the causes of these + monstrous phenomena. By what incredible series of events, have men been + induced to devote themselves to this priesthood of destruction? Without + doubt, such a religion could only flourish in countries given up, like + India, to the most atrocious slavery, and to the most merciless iniquity + of man to man. + </p> + <p> + Such a creed!—is it not the hate of exasperated humanity, wound up + to its highest pitch by oppression?—May not this homicidal sect, + whose origin is lost in the night of ages, have been perpetuated in these + regions, as the only possible protest of slavery against despotism? May + not an inscrutable wisdom have here made Phansegars, even as are made + tigers and serpents? + </p> + <p> + What is most remarkable in this awful sect, is the mysterious bond, which, + uniting its members amongst themselves, separates them from all other men. + They have laws and customs of their own, they support and help each other, + but for them there is neither country nor family; they owe no allegiance + save to a dark, invisible power, whose decrees they obey with blind + submission, and in whose name they spread themselves abroad, to make + corpses, according to their own savage expression.(6) + </p> + <p> + For some moments the three Stranglers had maintained a profound silence. + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:65%;"> + <img src="images/10201m.jpg" alt="10201m " width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/10201.jpg"><i>Original</i></a> + </h5> + <p> + Outside the hut, the moon continued to throw great masses of white + radiance, and tall bluish shadows, over the imposing fabric of the ruins; + the stars sparkled in the heavens; from time to time, a faint breeze + rustled through the thick and varnished leaves of the bananas and the + palms. + </p> + <p> + The pedestal of the gigantic statue, which, still entire, stood on the + left side of the portico, rested upon large flagstones, half hidden with + brambles. Suddenly, one of these stones appeared to fall in; and from the + aperture, which thus formed itself without noise, a man, dressed in + uniform, half protruded his body, looked carefully around him, and + listened. + </p> + <p> + Seeing the rays of the lamp, which lighted the interior of the hovel, + tremble upon the tall grass, he turned round to make a signal, and soon, + accompanied by two other soldiers, he ascended, with the greatest silence + and precaution, the last steps of the subterranean staircase, and went + gliding amongst the ruins. For a few moments, their moving shadows were + thrown upon the moonlit ground; then they disappeared behind some + fragments of broken wall. + </p> + <p> + At the instant when the large stone resumed its place and level, the heads + of many other soldiers might have been seen lying close in the excavation. + The half-caste, the Indian, and the negro, still seated thoughtfully in + the hut, did not perceive what was passing. + </p> + <p> + (6) The following are some passages from the Count de Warren’s very + curious book, “British India in 1831:” “Besides the + robbers, who kill for the sake of the booty they hope to find upon + travellers, there is a class of assassins, forming an organized society, + with chiefs of their own, a slang-language, a science, a free-masonry, and + even a religion, which has its fanaticism and its devotion, its agents, + emissaries, allies, its militant forces, and its passive adherents, who + contribute their money to the good work. This is the community of the + Thugs or Phansegars (deceivers or stranglers, from thugna, to deceive, and + phansna, to strangle), a religious and economical society, which + speculates with the human race by exterminating men; its origin is lost in + the night of ages. + </p> + <p> + “Until 1810 their existence was unknown, not only to the European + conquerors, but even to the native governments. Between the years 1816 and + 1830, several of their bands were taken in the act, and punished: but + until this last epoch, all the revelations made on the subject by officers + of great experience, had appeared too monstrous to obtain the attention or + belief of the public; they had been rejected and despised as the dreams of + a heated imagination. And yet for many years, at the very least for half a + century, this social wound had been frightfully on the increase, devouring + the population from the Himalayas to Cape Comorin and from Cutch to Assam. + </p> + <p> + “It was in the year 1830 that the revelations of a celebrated chief, + whose life was spared on condition of his denouncing his accomplices, laid + bare the whole system. The basis of the Thuggee Society is a religious + belief—the worship of Bowanee, a gloomy divinity, who is only + pleased with carnage, and detests above all things the human race. Her + most agreeable sacrifices are human victims, and the more of these her + disciple may have offered up in this world the more he will be recompensed + in the next by all the delights of soul and sense, by women always + beautiful, and joys eternally renewed. If the assassin meets the scaffold + in his career, he dies with the enthusiasm of a martyr, because he expects + his reward. To obey his divine mistress, he murders, without anger and + without remorse, the old man, woman and child; whilst, to his + fellow-religionists, he may be charitable, humane, generous, devoted, and + may share all in common with them, because, like himself, they are the + ministers and adopted children of Bowanee. The destruction of his + fellow-creatures, not belonging to his community—the diminution of + the human race—that is the primary object of his pursuit; it is not + as a means of gain, for though plunder may be a frequent, and doubtless an + agreeable accessory, it is only secondary in his estimation. Destruction + is his end, his celestial mission, his calling; it is also a delicious + passion, the most captivating of all sports—this hunting of men!—‘You + find great pleasure,’ said one of those that were condemned, ‘in + tracking the wild beast to his den, in attacking the boar, the tiger, + because there is danger to brave, energy and courage to display. Think how + this attraction must be redoubled, when the contest is with man, when it + is man that is to be destroyed. Instead of the single faculty of courage, + all must be called into action—courage, cunning, foresight, + eloquence, intrigue. What springs to put in motion! what plans to develop! + To sport with all the passions, to touch the chords of love and + friendship, and so draw the prey into one’s net—that is a + glorious chase—it is a delight, a rapture, I tell you!’ + </p> + <p> + “Whoever was in India in the years 1831 and 1832, must remember the + stupor and affright, which the discovery of this vast infernal machine + spread through all classes of society. A great number of magistrates and + administrators of provinces refused to believe in it, and could not be + brought to comprehend that such a system had so long preyed on the body + politic, under their eyes as it were, silently, and without betraying + itself.”—See “British India in 183,” by Count + Edward de Warren, 2 vols. in 8vo. Paris, 1844.—E. S. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0022" id="link2HCH0022"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXII. THE AMBUSCADE + </h2> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>he half-blood + Faringhea, wishing doubtless to escape from the dark thoughts which the + words of the Indian on the mysterious course of the Cholera had raised + within him, abruptly changed the subject of conversation. His eye shone + with lurid fire, and his countenance took an expression of savage + enthusiasm, as he cried: “Bowanee will always watch over us, + intrepid hunters of men! Courage, brothers, courage! The world is large; + our prey is everywhere. The English may force us to quit India, three + chiefs of the good work—but what matter? We leave there our + brethren, secret, numerous, and terrible, as black scorpions, whose + presence is only known by their mortal sting. Exiles will widen our + domains. Brother, you shall have America!” said he to the Hindoo, + with an inspired air. “Brother, you shall have Africa!” said + he to the negro. “Brothers, I will take Europe! Wherever men are to + be found, there must be oppressors and victims—wherever there are + victims, there must be hearts swollen with hate—it is for us to + inflame that hate with all the ardor of vengeance! It is for us, servants + of Bowanee, to draw towards us, by seducing wiles, all whose zeal, + courage, and audacity may be useful to the cause. Let us rival each other + in devotion and sacrifices; let us lend each other strength, help, + support! That all who are not with us may be our prey, let us stand alone + in the midst of all, against all, and in spite of all. For us, there must + be neither country nor family. Our family is composed of our brethren; our + country is the world.” + </p> + <p> + This kind of savage eloquence made a deep impression on the negro and the + Indian, over whom Faringhea generally exercised considerable influence, + his intellectual powers being very superior to theirs, though they were + themselves two of the most eminent chiefs of this bloody association. + “Yes, you are right, brother!” cried the Indian, sharing the + enthusiasm of Faringhea; “the world is ours. Even here, in Java, let + us leave some trace of our passage. Before we depart, let us establish the + good work in this island; it will increase quickly, for here also is great + misery, and the Dutch are rapacious as the English. Brother, I have seen + in the marshy rice-fields of this island, always fatal to those who + cultivate them, men whom absolute want forced to the deadly task—they + were livid as corpses—some of them worn out with sickness, fatigue, + and hunger, fell—never to rise again. Brothers, the good work will + prosper in this country!” + </p> + <p> + “The other evening,” said the half-caste, “I was on the + banks of the lake, behind a rock; a young woman came there—a few + rags hardly covered her lean and sun-scorched body—in her arms she + held a little child, which she pressed weeping to her milkless breast. She + kissed it three times, and said to it: ‘You, at least, shall not be + so unhappy as your father’—and she threw it into the lake. It + uttered one wail, and disappeared. On this cry, the alligators, hidden + amongst the reeds, leaped joyfully into the water. There are mothers here + who kill their children out of pity.—Brothers, the good work will + prosper in this country!” + </p> + <p> + “This morning,” said the negro, “whilst they tore the + flesh of one of his black slaves with whips, a withered old merchant of + Batavia left his country-house to come to the town. Lolling in his + palanquin, he received, with languid indolence, the sad caresses of two of + those girls, whom he had bought, to people his harem, from parents too + poor to give them food. The palanquin, which held this little old man, and + the girls, was carried by twelve young and robust men. There are here, you + see, mothers who in their misery sell their own daughters—slaves + that are scourged—men that carry other men, like beasts of burden.—Brothers, + the good work will prosper in this country!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, in this country—and in every land of oppression, + distress, corruption, and slavery.” + </p> + <p> + “Could we but induce Djalma to join us, as Mahal the Smuggler + advised,” said the Indian, “our voyage to Java would doubly + profit us; for we should then number among our band this brave and + enterprising youth, who has so many motives to hate mankind.” + </p> + <p> + “He will soon be here; let us envenom his resentments.” + </p> + <p> + “Remind him of his father’s death!” + </p> + <p> + “Of the massacre of his people!” + </p> + <p> + “His own captivity!” + </p> + <p> + “Only let hatred inflame his heart, and he will be ours.” + </p> + <p> + The negro, who had remained for some time lost in thought, said suddenly: + “Brothers, suppose Mahal the Smuggler were to betray us?” + </p> + <p> + “He” cried the Hindoo, almost with indignation; “he gave + us an asylum on board his bark; he secured our flight from the Continent; + he is again to take us with him to Bombay, where we shall find vessels for + America, Europe, Africa.” + </p> + <p> + “What interest would Mahal have to betray us?” said Faringhea. + “Nothing could save him from the vengeance of the sons of Bowanee, + and that he knows.” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said the black, “he promised to get Djalma to + come hither this evening, and, once amongst us, he must needs be our own.” + </p> + <p> + “Was it not the Smuggler who told us to order the Malay to enter the + ajoupa of Djalma, to surprise him during his sleep, and, instead of + killing him as he might have done, to trace the name of Bowanee upon his + arm? Djalma will thus learn to judge of the resolution, the cunning and + obedience of our brethren, and he will understand what he has to hope or + fear from such men. Be it through admiration or through terror, he must + become one of us.” + </p> + <p> + “But if he refuses to join us, notwithstanding the reasons he has to + hate mankind?” + </p> + <p> + “Then—Bowanee will decide his fate,” said Faringhea, + with a gloomy look; “I have my plan.” + </p> + <p> + “But will the Malay succeed in surprising Djalma during his sleep?” + said the negro. + </p> + <p> + “There is none nobler, more agile, more dexterous, than the Malay,” + said Faringhea. “He once had the daring to surprise in her den a + black panther, as she suckled her cub. He killed the dam, and took away + the young one, which he afterwards sold to some European ship’s + captain.” + </p> + <p> + “The Malay has succeeded!” exclaimed the Indian, listening to + a singular kind of hoot, which sounded through the profound silence of the + night and of the woods. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, it is the scream of the vulture seizing its prey,” said + the negro, listening in his turn; “it is also the signal of our + brethren, after they have seized their prey.” + </p> + <p> + In a few minutes, the Malay appeared at the door of the hut. He had wound + around him a broad length of cotton, adorned with bright colored stripes. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said the negro, anxiously; “have you succeeded?” + </p> + <p> + “Djalma must bear all his life the mark of the good work,” + said the Malay, proudly. “To reach him, I was forced to offer up to + Bowanee a man who crossed my path—I have left his body under the + brambles, near the ajoupa. But Djalma is marked with the sign. Mahal the + Smuggler was the first to know it.” + </p> + <p> + “And Djalma did not awake?” said the Indian, confounded by the + Malay’s adroitness. + </p> + <p> + “Had he awoke,” replied the other, calmly, “I should + have been a dead man—as I was charged to spare his life.” + </p> + <p> + “Because his life may be more useful to us than his death,” + said the half-caste. Then, addressing the Malay, he added: “Brother, + in risking life for the good work, you have done to-day what we did + yesterday, what we may do again to-morrow. This time, you obey; another + you will command.” + </p> + <p> + “We all belong to Bowanee,” answered the Malay. “What is + there yet to do?—I am ready.” Whilst he thus spoke, his face + was turned towards the door of the hut; on a sudden, he said in a low + voice: “Here is Djalma. He approaches the cabin. Mahal has not + deceived us.” + </p> + <p> + “He must not see me yet,” said Faringhea, retiring to an + obscure corner of the cabin, and hiding himself under a mat; “try to + persuade him. If he resists—I have my project.” + </p> + <p> + Hardly had Faringhea disappeared, saying these words, when Djalma arrived + at the door of the hovel. At sight of those three personages with their + forbidding aspect, Djalma started in surprise. But ignorant that these men + belonged to the Phansegars, and knowing that, in a country where there are + no inns, travellers often pass the night under a tent, or beneath the + shelter of some ruins, he continued to advance towards them. After the + first moment, he perceived by the complexion and the dress of one of these + men, that he was an Indian, and he accosted him in the Hindoo language: + “I thought to have found here a European—a Frenchman—” + </p> + <p> + “The Frenchman is not yet come,” replied the Indian; “but + he will not be long.” + </p> + <p> + Guessing by Djalma’s question the means which Mahal had employed to + draw him into the snare, the Indian hoped to gain time by prolonging his + error. + </p> + <p> + “You knew this Frenchman?” asked Djalma of the Phansegar. + </p> + <p> + “He appointed us to meet here, as he did you,” answered the + Indian. + </p> + <p> + “For what?” inquired Djalma, more and more astonished. + </p> + <p> + “You will know when he arrives.” + </p> + <p> + “General Simon told you to be at this place?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, General Simon,” replied the Indian. + </p> + <p> + There was a moment’s pause, during which Djalma sought in vain to + explain to himself this mysterious adventure. “And who are you?” + asked he, with a look of suspicion; for the gloomy silence of the + Phansegar’s two companions, who stared fixedly at each other, began + to give him some uneasiness. + </p> + <p> + “We are yours, if you will be ours,” answered the Indian. + </p> + <p> + “I have no need of you—nor you of me.” + </p> + <p> + “Who knows?” + </p> + <p> + “I know it.” + </p> + <p> + “You are deceived. The English killed your father, a king; made you + a captive; proscribed you, you have lost all your possessions.” + </p> + <p> + At this cruel reminder, the countenance of Djalma darkened. He started, + and a bitter smile curled his lip. The Phansegar continued: + </p> + <p> + “Your father was just and brave—beloved by his subjects—they + called him ‘Father of the Generous,’ and he was well named. + Will you leave his death unavenged? Will the hate, which gnaws at your + heart, be without fruit?” + </p> + <p> + “My father died with arms in his hand. I revenged his death on the + English whom I killed in war. He, who has since been a father to me, and + who fought also in the same cause, told me, that it would now be madness + to attempt to recover my territory from the English. When they gave me my + liberty, I swore never again to set foot in India—and I keep the + oaths I make.” + </p> + <p> + “Those who despoiled you, who took you captive, who killed your + father—were men. Are there not other men, on whom you can avenge + yourself! Let your hate fall upon them!” + </p> + <p> + “You, who speak thus of men, are not a man!” + </p> + <p> + “I, and those who resemble me, are more than men. We are, to the + rest of the human race, what the bold hunter is to the wild beasts, which + they run down in the forest. Will you be, like us, more than a man? Will + you glut surely, largely, safely—the hate which devours your heart, + for all the evil done you?” + </p> + <p> + “Your words become more and more obscure: I have no hatred in my + heart,” said Djalma. “When an enemy is worthy of me, I fight + with him; when he is unworthy, I despise him. So that I have no hate—either + for brave men or cowards.” + </p> + <p> + “Treachery!” cried the negro on a sudden, pointing with rapid + gesture to the door, for Djalma and the Indian had now withdrawn a little + from it, and were standing in one corner of the hovel. + </p> + <p> + At the shout of the negro, Faringhea, who had not been perceived by + Djalma, threw off abruptly the mat which covered him, drew his crease, + started up like a tiger, and with one bound was out of the cabin. Then, + seeing a body of soldiers advancing cautiously in a circle, he dealt one + of them a mortal stroke, threw down two others, and disappeared in the + midst of the ruins. All this passed so instantaneously, that, when Djalma + turned round, to ascertain the cause of the negro’s cry of alarm, + Faringhea had already disappeared. + </p> + <p> + The muskets of several soldiers, crowding to the door, were immediately + pointed at Djalma and the three Stranglers, whilst others went in pursuit + of Faringhea. The negro, the Malay, and the Indian, seeing the + impossibility of resistance, exchanged a few rapid words, and offered + their hands to the cords, with which some of the soldiers had provided + themselves. + </p> + <p> + The Dutch captain, who commanded the squad, entered the cabin at this + moment. “And this other one?” said he, pointing out Djalma to + the soldiers, who were occupied in binding the three Phansegars. + </p> + <p> + “Each in his turn, captain!” said an old sergeant. “We + come to him next.” + </p> + <p> + Djalma had remained petrified with surprise, not understanding what was + passing round him; but, when he saw the sergeant and two soldiers approach + with ropes to bind him, he repulsed them with violent indignation, and + rushed towards the door where stood the officer. The soldiers, who had + supposed that Djalma would submit to his fate with the same impassibility + as his companions, were astounded by this resistance, and recoiled some + paces, being struck in spite of themselves, with the noble and dignified + air of the son of Kadja-sing. + </p> + <p> + “Why would you bind me like these men?” cried Djalma, + addressing himself in Hindostanee to the officer, who understood that + language from his long service in the Dutch colonies. + </p> + <p> + “Why would we bind you, wretch?—because you form part of this + band of assassins. What?” added the officer in Dutch, speaking to + the soldiers, “are you afraid of him?—Tie the cord tight about + his wrists; there will soon be another about his neck.” + </p> + <p> + “You are mistaken,” said Djalma, with a dignity and calmness + which astonished the officer; “I have hardly been in this place a + quarter of an hour—I do not know these men. I came here to meet a + Frenchman.” + </p> + <p> + “Not a Phansegar like them?—Who will believe the falsehood?” + </p> + <p> + “Them!” cried Djalma, with so natural a movement and + expression of horror, that with a sign the officer stopped the soldiers, + who were again advancing to bind the son of Kadja-sing; “these men + form part of that horrible band of murderers! and you accuse me of being + their accomplice!—Oh, in this case, sir! I am perfectly at ease,” + said the young man, with a smile of disdain. + </p> + <p> + “It will not be sufficient to say that you are tranquil,” + replied the officer; “thanks to their confessions, we now know by + what mysterious signs to recognize the Thugs.” + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:65%;"> + <img src="images/10209m.jpg" alt="10209m " width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/10209.jpg"><i>Original</i></a> + </h5> + <p> + “I repeat, sir, that I hold these murderers in the greatest horror, + and that I came here—” + </p> + <p> + The negro, interrupting Djalma, said to the officer with a ferocious joy: + “You have hit it; the sons of the good work do know each other by + marks tattooed on their skin. For us, the hour has come—we give our + necks to the cord. Often enough have we twined it round the necks of those + who served not with us the good work. Now, look at our arms, and look at + the arms of this youth!” + </p> + <p> + The officer, misinterpreting the words of the negro, said to Djalma: + “It is quite clear, that if, as this negro tells us, you do not bear + on your arm the mysterious symbol—(we are going to assure ourselves + of the fact), and if you can explain your presence here in a satisfactory + manner, you may be at liberty within two hours.” + </p> + <p> + “You do not understand me,” said the negro to the officer; + “Prince Djalma is one of us, for he bears on his left arm the name + of Bowanee.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes! he is like us, a son of Kale!” added the Malay. + </p> + <p> + “He is like us, a Phansegar,” said the Indian. + </p> + <p> + The three men, irritated at the horror which Djalma had manifested on + learning that they were Phansegars, took a savage pride in making it + believed that the son of Kadja-sing belonged to their frightful + association. + </p> + <p> + “What have you to answer?” said the officer to Djalma. The + latter again gave a look of disdainful pity, raised with his right hand + his long, wide left sleeve, and displayed his naked arm. + </p> + <p> + “What audacity!” cried the officer, for on the inner part of + the fore arm, a little below the bend, the name of the Bowanee, in bright + red Hindoo characters, was distinctly visible. The officer ran to the + Malay, and uncovered his arm; he saw the same word, the same signs. Not + yet satisfied, he assured himself that the negro and the Indian were + likewise so marked. + </p> + <p> + “Wretch!” cried he, turning furiously towards Djalma; “you + inspire even more horror than your accomplices. Bind him like a cowardly + assassin,” added he to the soldiers; “like a cowardly + assassin, who lies upon the brink of the grave, for his execution will not + be long delayed.” + </p> + <p> + Struck with stupor, Djalma, who for some moments had kept his eye riveted + on the fatal mark, was unable to pronounce a word, or make the least + movement: his powers of thought seemed to fail him, in presence of this + incomprehensible fact. + </p> + <p> + “Would you dare deny this sign?” said the officer to him, with + indignation. + </p> + <p> + “I cannot deny what I see—what is,” said Djalma, quite + overcome. + </p> + <p> + “It is lucky that you confess at last,” replied the officer. + “Soldiers, keep watch over him and his accomplices—you answer + for them.” + </p> + <p> + Almost believing himself the sport of some wild dream. Djalma offered no + resistance, but allowed himself to be bound and removed with mechanical + passiveness. The officer, with part of his soldiers, hoped still to + discover Faringhea amongst the ruins; but his search was vain, and, after + spending an hour in fruitless endeavors, he set out for Batavia, where the + escort of the prisoners had arrived before him. + </p> + <p> + Some hours after these events, M. Joshua van Dael thus finished his long + despatch, addressed to M. Rodin, of Paris: + </p> + <p> + “Circumstances were such, that I could not act otherwise; and, + taking all into consideration, it is a very small evil for a great good. + Three murderers are delivered over to justice, and the temporary arrest of + Djalma will only serve to make his innocence shine forth with redoubled + luster. + </p> + <p> + “Already this morning I went to the governor, to protest in favor of + our young prince. ‘As it was through me,’ I said, ‘that + those three great criminals fell into the hands of the authorities, let + them at least show me some gratitude, by doing everything to render clear + as day the innocence of Prince Djalma, so interesting by reason of his + misfortunes and noble qualities. Most certainly,’ I added, ‘when + I came yesterday to inform the governor, that the Phansegars would be + found assembled in the ruins of Tchandi, I was far from anticipating that + any one would confound with those wretches the adopted son of General + Simon, an excellent man, with whom I have had for some time the most + honorable relations. We must, then, at any cost, discover the + inconceivable mystery that has placed Djalma in this dangerous position;’ + and, I continued, ‘so convinced am I of his innocence, that, for his + own sake, I would not ask for any favor on his behalf. He will have + sufficient courage and dignity to wait patiently in prison for the day of + justice.’ In all this, you see, I spoke nothing but the truth, and + had not to reproach myself with the least deception, for nobody in the + world is more convinced than I am of Djalma’s innocence. + </p> + <p> + “The governor answered me as I expected, that morally he felt as + certain as I did of the innocence of the young prince, and would treat him + with all possible consideration; but that it was necessary for justice to + have its course, because it would be the only way of demonstrating the + falsehood of the accusation, and discovering by what unaccountable + fatality that mysterious sign was tattooed upon Djalma’s arm. + </p> + <p> + “Mahal the Smuggler, who alone could enlighten justice on this + subject, will in another hour have quitted Batavia, to go on board the + ‘Ruyter,’ which will take him to Egypt; for he has a note from + me to the captain, to certify that he is the person for whom I engaged and + paid the passage. At the same time, he will be the bearer of this long + despatch, for the ‘Ruyter’ is to sail in an hour, and the last + letter-bag for Europe was made up yesterday evening. But I wished to see + the governor this morning, before closing the present. + </p> + <p> + “Thus, then, is Prince Djalma enforced detained for a month, and, + this opportunity of the ‘Ruyter’ once lost, it is materially + impossible that the young Indian can be in France by the 13th of next + February. You see, therefore, that, even as you ordered, so have I acted + according to the means at my disposal—considering only the end which + justifies them—for you tell me a great interest of the society is + concerned. + </p> + <p> + “In your hands, I have been what we all ought to be in the hands of + our superiors—a mere instrument: since, for the greater glory of + God, we become corpses with regard to the will.(7) Men may deny our unity + and power, and the times appear opposed to us; but circumstances only + change; we are ever the same. + </p> + <p> + “Obedience and courage, secrecy and patience, craft and audacity, + union and devotion—these become us, who have the world for our + country, our brethren for family, Rome for our Queen! + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “J. V.” + </pre> + <p> + About ten o’clock in the morning, Mahal the Smuggler set out with + this despatch (sealed) in his possession, to board the “Ruyter.” + An hour later, the dead body of this same Mahal, strangled by Thuggee, lay + concealed beneath some reeds on the edge of a desert strand, whither he + had gone to take boat to join the vessel. + </p> + <p> + When at a subsequent period, after the departure of the steamship, they + found the corpse of the smuggler, M. Joshua sought in vain for the + voluminous packet, which he had entrusted to his care. Neither was there + any trace of the note which Mahal was to have delivered to the captain of + the “Ruyter,” in order to be received as passenger. + </p> + <p> + Finally, the searches and bushwhacking ordered throughout the country for + the purpose of discovering Faringhea, were of no avail. The dangerous + chief of the Stranglers was never seen again in Java. + </p> + <p> + (7) It is known that the doctrine of passive and absolute obedience, the + main-spring of the Society of Jesus, is summed up in those terrible words + of the dying Loyola: “Every member of the Order shall be, in the + hands of his superiors, even as a corpse (Perinde ac Cadaver).”—E. + S. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0023" id="link2HCH0023"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXIII. M. RODIN. + </h2> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>hree months have + elapsed since Djalma was thrown into Batavia Prison accused of belonging + to the murderous gang of Megpunnas. The following scene takes place in + France, at the commencement of the month of February, 1832, in Cardoville + Manor House, an old feudal habitation standing upon the tall cliffs of + Picardy, not far from Saint Valery, a dangerous coast on which almost + every year many ships are totally wrecked, being driven on shore by the + northwesters, which render the navigation of the Channel so perilous. + </p> + <p> + From the interior of the Castle is heard the howling of a violent tempest, + which has arisen during the night; a frequent formidable noise, like the + discharge of artillery, thunders in the distance, and is repeated by the + echoes of the shore; it is the sea breaking with fury against the high + rocks which are overlooked by the ancient Manor House. + </p> + <p> + It is about seven o’clock in the morning. Daylight is not yet + visible through the windows of a large room situated on the ground-floor. + In this apartment, in which a lamp is burning, a woman of about sixty + years of age, with a simple and honest countenance, dressed as a rich + farmer’s wife of Picardy, is already occupied with her needle-work, + notwithstanding the early hour. Close by, the husband of this woman, about + the same age as herself, is seated at a large table, sorting and putting + up in bags divers samples of wheat and oats. The face of this white-haired + man is intelligent and open, announcing good sense and honesty, enlivened + by a touch of rustic humor; he wears a shooting-jacket of green cloth, and + long gaiters of tan-colored leather, which half conceal his black + velveteen breeches. + </p> + <p> + The terrible storm which rages without renders still more agreeable the + picture of this peaceful interior. A rousing fire burns in a broad + chimney-place faced with white marble, and throws its joyous light on the + carefully polished floor; nothing can be more cheerful than the old + fashioned chintz hangings and curtains with red Chinese figures upon a + white ground, and the panels over the door painted with pastoral scenes in + the style of Watteau. A clock of Sevres china, and rosewood furniture + inlaid with green—quaint and portly furniture, twisted into all + sorts of grotesque shapes—complete the decorations of this + apartment. + </p> + <p> + Out-doors, the gale continued to howl furiously, and sometimes a gust of + wind would rush down the chimney, or shake the fastenings of the windows. + The man who was occupied in sorting the samples of grain was M. Dupont, + bailiff of Cardoville manor. + </p> + <p> + “Holy Virgin!” said his wife; “what dreadful weather, my + dear! This M. Rodin, who is to come here this morning, as the Princess de + Saint Dizier’s steward announced to us, picked out a very bad day + for it.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, in truth, I have rarely heard such a hurricane. If M. Rodin + has never seen the sea in its fury, he may feast his eyes to-day with the + sight.” + </p> + <p> + “What can it be that brings this M. Rodin, my dear?” + </p> + <p> + “Faith! I know nothing about it. The steward tells me in his letter + to show M. Rodin the greatest attention, and to obey him as if he were my + master. It will be for him to explain himself, and for me to execute his + orders, since he comes on the part of the princess.” + </p> + <p> + “By rights he should come from Mademoiselle Adrienne, as the land + belongs to her since the death of the duke her father.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; but the princess being aunt to the young lady, her steward + manages Mademoiselle Adrienne’s affairs—so whether one or the + other, it amounts to the same thing.” + </p> + <p> + “May be M. Rodin means to buy the estate. Though, to be sure, that + stout lady who came from Paris last week on purpose to see the chateau + appeared to have a great wish for it.” + </p> + <p> + At these words the bailiff began to laugh with a sly look. + </p> + <p> + “What is there to laugh at, Dupont?” asked his wife, a very + good creature, but not famous for intelligence or penetration. + </p> + <p> + “I laugh,” answered Dupont, “to think of the face and + figure of that enormous woman: with such a look, who the devil would call + themselves Madame de la Sainte-Colombe—Mrs. Holy Dove? A pretty + saint, and a pretty dove, truly! She is round as a hogshead, with the + voice of a town-crier; has gray moustachios like an old grenadier, and + without her knowing it, I heard her say to her servant: ‘Stir your + stumps, my hearty!’—and yet she calls herself Sainte-Colombe!” + </p> + <p> + “How hard on her you are, Dupont; a body don’t choose one’s + name. And, if she has a beard, it is not the lady’s fault.” + </p> + <p> + “No—but it is her fault to call herself Sainte-Colombe. Do you + imagine it her true name? Ah, my poor Catherine, you are yet very green in + some things.” + </p> + <p> + “While you, my poor Dupont, are well read in slander! This lady + seems very respectable. The first thing she asked for on arriving was the + chapel of the Castle, of which she had heard speak. She even said that she + would make some embellishments in it; and, when I told her we had no + church in this little place, she appeared quite vexed not to have a curate + in the village.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, to be sure! that’s the first thought of your upstarts—to + play the great lady of the parish, like your titled people.” + </p> + <p> + “Madame de la Sainte-Colombe need not play the great lady, because + she is one.” + </p> + <p> + “She! a great lady? Oh, lor’!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes—only see how she was dressed, in scarlet gown, and violet + gloves like a bishop’s; and, when she took off her bonnet, she had a + diamond band round her head-dress of false, light hair, and diamond + ear-drops as large as my thumb, and diamond rings on every finger! None of + your tuppenny beauties would wear so many diamonds in the middle of the + day.” + </p> + <p> + “You are a pretty judge!” + </p> + <p> + “That is not all.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you mean to say there’s more?” + </p> + <p> + “She talked of nothing but dukes, and marquises, and counts, and + very rich gentlemen, who visit at her house, and are her most intimate + friends; and then, when she saw the summer house in the park, half-burnt + by the Prussians, which our late master never rebuilt, she asked, ‘What + are those ruins there?’ and I answered: ‘Madame, it was in the + time of the Allies that the pavilion was burnt.’—‘Oh, my + clear,’ cried she; ‘our allies, good, dear allies! they and + the Restoration began my fortune!’ So you see, Dupont, I said to + myself directly: ‘She was no doubt one of the noble women who fled + abroad—‘” + </p> + <p> + “Madame de la Sainte-Colombe!” cried the bailiff, laughing + heartily. “Oh, my poor, poor wife!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, it is all very well; but because you have been three years at + Paris, don’t think yourself a conjurer!” + </p> + <p> + “Catherine, let’s drop it: you will make me say some folly, + and there are certain things which dear, good creatures like you need + never know.” + </p> + <p> + “I cannot tell what you are driving at, only try to be less + slanderous—for, after all, should Madame de la Sainte-Colombe buy + the estate, will you be sorry to remain as her bailiff, eh?” + </p> + <p> + “Not I—for we are getting old, my good Catherine; we have + lived here twenty years, and we have been too honest to provide for our + old days by pilfering—and truly, at our age, it would be hard to + seek another place, which perhaps we should not find. What I regret is, + that Mademoiselle Adrienne should not keep the land; it seems that she + wished to sell it, against the will of the princess.” + </p> + <p> + “Good gracious, Dupont! is it not very extraordinary that + Mademoiselle Adrienne should have the disposal of her large fortune so + early in life?” + </p> + <p> + “Faith! simple enough. Our young lady, having no father or mother, + is mistress of her property, besides having a famous little will of her + own. Dost remember, ten years ago, when the count brought her down here + one summer?—what an imp of mischief! and then what eyes! eh?—how + they sparkled, even then!” + </p> + <p> + “It is true that Mademoiselle Adrienne had in her look—an + expression—a very uncommon expression for her age.” + </p> + <p> + “If she has kept what her witching, luring face promised, she must + be very pretty by this time, notwithstanding the peculiar color of her + hair—for, between ourselves, if she had been a tradesman’s + daughter, instead of a young lady of high birth, they would have called it + red.” + </p> + <p> + “There again! more slander.” + </p> + <p> + “What! against Mademoiselle Adrienne? Heaven forbid—I always + thought that she would be as good as pretty, and it is not speaking ill of + her to say she has red hair. On the contrary, it always appears to me so + fine, so bright, so sunny, and to suit so well her snowy complexion and + black eyes, that in truth I would not have had it other than it was; and I + am sure, that now this very color of her hair, which would be a blemish in + any one else, must only add to the charm of Mademoiselle Adrienne’s + face. She must have such a sweet vixen look!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! to be candid, she really was a vixen—always running about + the park, aggravating her governess, climbing the trees—in fact, + playing all manner of naughty tricks.” + </p> + <p> + “I grant you, Mademoiselle Adrienne was a chip of the old block; but + then what wit, what engaging ways, and above all, what a good heart!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes—that she certainly had. Once I remember she gave her + shawl and her new merino frock to a poor little beggar girl, and came back + to the house in her petticoat, and bare arms.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, an excellent heart—but headstrong—terribly + headstrong!” + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:65%;"> + <img src="images/10217m.jpg" alt="10217m " width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/10217.jpg"><i>Original</i></a> + </h5> + <p> + “Yes—that she was; and ‘tis likely to finish badly, for + it seems that she does things at Paris—oh! such things—” + </p> + <p> + “What things?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, my dear; I can hardly venture—” + </p> + <p> + “Fell, but what are they?” + </p> + <p> + “Why,” said the worthy dame, with a sort of embarrassment and + confusion, which showed how much she was shocked by such enormities, + “they say, that Mademoiselle Adrienne never sets foot in a church, + but lives in a kind of heathen temple in her aunt’s garden, where + she has masked women to dress her up like a goddess, and scratches them + very often, because she gets tipsy—without mentioning, that every + night she plays on a hunting horn of massive gold—all which causes + the utmost grief and despair to her poor aunt the princess.” + </p> + <p> + Here the bailiff burst into a fit of laughter, which interrupted his wife. + </p> + <p> + “Now tell me,” said he, when this first access of hilarity was + over, “where did you get these fine stories about Mademoiselle + Adrienne?” + </p> + <p> + “From Rene’s wife, who went to Paris to look for a child to + nurse; she called at Saint-Dizier House, to see Madame Grivois, her + godmother.—Now Madame Grivois is first bedchamber woman to the + princess—and she it was who told her all this—and surely she + ought to know, being in the house.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, a fine piece of goods that Grivois! once she was a regular bad + ‘un, but now she professes to be as over-nice as her mistress; like + master like man, they say. The princess herself, who is now so stiff and + starched, knew how to carry on a lively game in her time. Fifteen years + ago, she was no such prude: do you remember that handsome colonel of + hussars, who was in garrison at Abbeville? an exiled noble who had served + in Russia, whom the Bourbons gave a regiment on the Restoration?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes—I remember him; but you are really too backbiting.” + </p> + <p> + “Not a bit—I only speak the truth. The colonel spent his whole + time here, and every one said he was very warm with this same princess, + who is now such a saint. Oh! those were the jolly times. Every evening, + some new entertainment at the chateau. What a fellow that colonel was, to + set things going; how well he could act a play!—I remember—” + </p> + <p> + The bailiff was unable to proceed. A stout maid-servant, wearing the + costume and cap of Picardy, entered in haste, and thus addressed her + mistress: “Madame, there is a person here that wants to speak to + master; he has come in the postmaster’s calash from Saint-Valery, + and he says that he is M. Rodin.” + </p> + <p> + “M. Rodin?” said the bailiff rising. “Show him in + directly!” + </p> + <p> + A moment after, M. Rodin made his appearance. According to his custom, he + was dressed even more than plainly. With an air of great humility, he + saluted the bailiff and his wife, and at a sign from her husband, the + latter withdrew. The cadaverous countenance of M. Rodin, his almost + invisible lips, his little reptile eyes, half concealed by their flabby + lids, and the sordid style of his dress, rendered his general aspect far + from prepossessing; yet this man knew how, when it was necessary, to + affect, with diabolical art, so much sincerity and good-nature—his + words were so affectionate and subtly penetrating—that the + disagreeable feeling of repugnance, which the first sight of him generally + inspired, wore off little by little, and he almost always finished by + involving his dupe or victim in the tortuous windings of an eloquence as + pliant as it was honeyed and perfidious; for ugliness and evil have their + fascination, as well as what is good and fair. + </p> + <p> + The honest bailiff looked at this man with surprise, when he thought of + the pressing recommendation of the steward of the Princess de Saint + Dizier; he had expected to see quite another sort of personage, and, + hardly able to dissemble his astonishment, he said to him: “Is it to + M. Rodin that I have the honor to speak?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir; and here is another letter from the steward of the + Princess de Saint-Dizier.” + </p> + <p> + “Pray, sir, draw near the fire, whilst I just see what is in this + letter. The weather is so bad,” continued the bailiff, obligingly, + “may I not offer you some refreshment?” + </p> + <p> + “A thousand thanks, my dear sir; I am off again in an hour.” + </p> + <p> + Whilst M. Dupont read, M. Rodin threw inquisitive glances round the + chamber; like a man of skill and experience, he had frequently drawn just + and useful inductions from those little appearances, which, revealing a + taste or habit, give at the same time some notion of a character; on this + occasion, however, his curiosity was at fault. + </p> + <p> + “Very good, sir,” said the bailiff, when he had finished + reading; “the steward renews his recommendation, and tells me to + attend implicitly to your commands.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, sir, they will amount to very little, and I shall not trouble + you long.” + </p> + <p> + “It will be no trouble, but an honor.” + </p> + <p> + “Nay, I know how much your time must be occupied, for, as soon as + one enters this chateau, one is struck with the good order and perfect + keeping of everything in it—which proves, my dear sir, what + excellent care you take of it.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, sir, you flatter me.” + </p> + <p> + “Flatter you?—a poor old man like myself has something else to + think of. But to come to business: there is a room here which is called + the Green Chamber?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir; the room which the late Count-Duke de Cardoville used for + a study.” + </p> + <p> + “You will have the goodness to take me there.” + </p> + <p> + “Unfortunately, it is not in my power to do so. After the death of + the Count-Duke, and when the seals were removed, a number of papers were + shut up in a cabinet in that room, and the lawyers took the keys with them + to Paris.” + </p> + <p> + “Here are those keys,” said M. Rodin, showing to the bailiff a + large and a small key tied together. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, sir! that is different. You come to look for papers?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes—for certain papers—and also far a small mahogany + casket, with silver clasps—do you happen to know it?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir; I have often seen it on the count’s writing-table. + It must be in the large, lacquered cabinet, of which you have the key.” + </p> + <p> + “You will conduct me to this chamber, as authorized by the Princess + de Saint-Dizier?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir; the princess continues in good health?” + </p> + <p> + “Perfectly so. She lives altogether above worldly things.” + </p> + <p> + “And Mademoiselle Adrienne?” + </p> + <p> + “Alas, my dear sir!” said M. Rodin, with a sigh of deep + contrition and grief. + </p> + <p> + “Good heaven, sir! has any calamity happened to Mademoiselle + Adrienne?” + </p> + <p> + “In what sense do you mean it?” + </p> + <p> + “Is she ill?” + </p> + <p> + “No, no—she is, unfortunately, as well as she is beautiful.” + </p> + <p> + “Unfortunately!” cried the bailiff, in surprise. + </p> + <p> + “Alas, yes! for when beauty, youth, and health are joined to an evil + spirit of revolt and perversity—to a character which certainly has + not its equal upon earth—it would be far better to be deprived of + those dangerous advantages, which only become so many causes of perdition. + But I conjure you, my dear sir, let us talk of something else: this + subject is too painful,” said M. Rodin, with a voice of deep + emotion, lifting the tip of his little finger to the corner of his right + eye, as if to stop a rising tear. + </p> + <p> + The bailiff did not see the tear, but he saw the gesture, and he was + struck with the change in M. Rodin’s voice. He answered him, + therefore, with much sympathy: “Pardon my indiscretion, sir; I + really did not know—” + </p> + <p> + “It is I who should ask pardon for this involuntary display of + feeling—tears are so rare with old men—but if you had seen, as + I have, the despair of that excellent princess, whose only fault has been + too much kindness, too much weakness, with regard to her niece—by + which she has encouraged her—but, once more, let us talk of + something else, my dear sir!” + </p> + <p> + After a moment’s pause, during which M. Rodin seemed to recover from + his emotion, he said to Dupont: “One part of my mission, my dear sir—that + which relates to the Green Chamber—I have now told you; but there is + yet another. Before coming to it, however, I must remind you of a + circumstance you have perhaps forgotten—namely, that some fifteen or + sixteen years ago, the Marquis d’Aigrigny, then colonel of the + hussars in garrison at Abbeville, spent some time in this house.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, sir! what a dashing officer was there! It was only just now, + that I was talking about him to my wife. He was the life of the house!—how + well he could perform plays—particularly the character of a + scapegrace. In the Two Edmonds, for instance, he would make you die with + laughing, in that part of a drunken soldier—and then, with what a + charming voice he sang Joconde, sir—better than they could sing it + at Paris!” + </p> + <p> + Rodin, having listened complacently to the bailiff, said to him: “You + doubtless know that, after a fierce duel he had with a furious + Bonapartist, one General Simon, the Marquis d’Aigrigny (whose + private secretary I have now the honor to be) left the world for the + church.” + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:65%;"> + <img src="images/10145m.jpg" alt="10145m " width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/10145.jpg"><i>Original</i></a> + </h5> + <p> + “No, sir! is it possible? That fine officer!” + </p> + <p> + “That fine officer—brave, noble, rich, esteemed, and flattered—abandoned + all those advantages for the sorry black gown; and, notwithstanding his + name, position, high connections, his reputation as a great preacher, he + is still what he was fourteen years ago—a plain abbe—whilst so + many, who have neither his merit nor his virtues, are archbishops and + cardinals.” + </p> + <p> + M. Rodin expressed himself with so much goodness, with such an air of + conviction, and the facts he cited appeared to be so incontestable, that + M. Dupont could not help exclaiming: “Well, sir, that is splendid + conduct!” + </p> + <p> + “Splendid? Oh, no!” said M. Rodin, with an inimitable + expression of simplicity; “it is quite a matter of course when one + has a heart like M. d’Aigrigny’s. But amongst all his good + qualities, he has particularly that of never forgetting worthy people—people + of integrity, honor, conscience—and therefore, my dear M. Dupont, he + has not forgotten you.” + </p> + <p> + “What, the most noble marquis deigns to remember—” + </p> + <p> + “Three days ago, I received a letter from him, in which he mentions + your name.” + </p> + <p> + “Is he then at Paris?” + </p> + <p> + “He will be there soon, if not there now. He went to Italy about + three months ago, and, during his absence, he received a very sad piece of + news—the death of his mother, who was passing the autumn on one of + the estates of the Princess de Saint-Dizier.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, indeed! I was not aware of it.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, it was a cruel grief to him; but we must all resign ourselves + to the will of Providence!” + </p> + <p> + “And with regard to what subject did the marquis do me the honor to + mention my name?” + </p> + <p> + “I am going to tell you. First of all, you must know that this house + is sold. The bill of sale was signed the day before my departure from + Paris.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, sir! that renews all my uneasiness.” + </p> + <p> + “Pray, why?” + </p> + <p> + “I am afraid that the new proprietors may not choose to keep me as + their bailiff.” + </p> + <p> + “Now see what a lucky chance! It is just on that subject that I am + going to speak to you.” + </p> + <p> + “Is it possible?” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly. Knowing the interest which the marquis feels for you, I + am particularly desirous that you should keep this place, and I will do + all in my power to serve you, if—” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, sir!” cried Dupont, interrupting Rodin; “what + gratitude do I not owe you! It is Heaven that sends you to me!’ + </p> + <p> + “Now, my dear sir, you flatter me in your turn; but I ought to tell + you, that I’m obliged to annex a small condition to my support.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, by all means! Only name it, sir—name it!” + </p> + <p> + “The person who is about to inhabit this mansion, is an old lady in + every way worthy of veneration; Madame de la Sainte-Colombe is the name of + this respectable—” + </p> + <p> + “What, sir?” said the bailiff, interrupting Rodin; “Madame + de la Sainte Colombe the lady who has bought us out?” + </p> + <p> + “Do you know her?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir, she came last week to see the estate. My wife persists + that she is a great lady; but—between ourselves—judging by + certain words that I heard her speak—” + </p> + <p> + “You are full of penetration, my dear M. Dupont. Madame de la Sainte + Colombe is far from being a great lady. I believe she was neither more nor + less than a milliner, under one of the wooden porticoes of the Palais + Royal. You see, that I deal openly with you.” + </p> + <p> + “And she boasted of all the noblemen, French and foreign, who used + to visit her!” + </p> + <p> + “No doubt, they came to buy bonnets for their wives! However, the + fact is, that, having gained a large fortune and, after being in youth and + middle age—indifferent—alas! more than indifferent to the + salvation of her soul—Madame de la Sainte-Colombe is now in a likely + way to experience grace—which renders her, as I told you, worthy of + veneration, because nothing is so respectable as a sincere repentance—always + providing it to be lasting. Now to make the good work sure and effectual, + we shall need your assistance, my dear M. Dupont.” + </p> + <p> + “Mine, sir! what can I do in it?” + </p> + <p> + “A great deal; and I will explain to you how. There is no church in + this village, which stands at an equal distance from either of two + parishes. Madame de la Sainte-Colombe, wishing to make choice of one of + the two clergymen, will naturally apply to you and Madame Dupont, who have + long lived in these parts, for information respecting them.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! in that case the choice will soon be made. The incumbent of + Danicourt is one of the best of men.” + </p> + <p> + “Now that is precisely what you must not say to Madame de la Sainte + Colombe.” + </p> + <p> + “How so?” + </p> + <p> + “You must, on the contrary, much praise, without ceasing, the curate + of Roiville, the other parish, so as to decide this good lady to trust + herself to his care.” + </p> + <p> + “And why, sir, to him rather than to the other?” + </p> + <p> + “Why?—because, if you and Madame Dupont succeed in persuading + Madame de la Sainte-Colombe to make the choice I wish, you will be certain + to keep your place as bailiff. I give you my word of it, and what I + promise I perform.” + </p> + <p> + “I do not doubt, sir, that you have this power,” said Dupont, + convinced by Rodin’s manner, and the authority of his words; “but + I should like to know—” + </p> + <p> + “One word more,” said Rodin, interrupting him; “I will + deal openly with you, and tell you why I insist on the preference which I + beg you to support. I should be grieved if you saw in all this the shadow + of an intrigue. It is only for the purpose of doing a good action. The + curate of Roiville, for whom I ask your influence, is a man for whom M. d’Aigrigny + feels a deep interest. Though very poor, he has to support an aged mother. + Now, if he had the spiritual care of Madame de la Sainte Colombe, he would + do more good than any one else, because he is full of zeal and patience; + and then it is clear he would reap some little advantages, by which his + old mother might profit—there you see is the secret of this mighty + scheme. When I knew that this lady was disposed to buy an estate in the + neighborhood of our friend’s parish, I wrote about it to the + marquis; and he, remembering you, desired me to ask you to render him this + small service, which, as you see, will not remain without a recompense. + For I tell you once more, and I will prove it, that I have the power to + keep you in your place as bailiff.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, sir,” replied Dupont, after a moment’s + reflection, “you are so frank and obliging, that I will imitate your + sincerity. In the same degree that the curate of Danicourt is respected + and loved in this country, the curate of Roiville, whom you wish me to + prefer to him, is dreaded for his intolerance—and, moreover—” + </p> + <p> + “Well, and what more?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, then, they say—” + </p> + <p> + “Come, what do they say?” + </p> + <p> + “They say—he is a Jesuit.” + </p> + <p> + Upon these words, M. Rodin burst into so hearty a laugh that the bailiff + was quite struck dumb with amazement—for the countenance of M. Rodin + took a singular expression when he laughed. “A Jesuit!” he + repeated, with redoubled hilarity; “a Jesuit!—Now really, my + dear M. Dupont, for a man of sense, experience, and intelligence, how can + you believe such idle stories?—A Jesuit—are there such people + as Jesuits?—in our time, above all, can you believe such romance of + the Jacobins, hobgoblins of the old freedom lovers?—Come, come; I + wager, you have read about them in the Constitutionnel!” + </p> + <p> + “And yet, sir, they say—” + </p> + <p> + “Good heavens! what will they not say?—But wise men, prudent + men like you, do not meddle with what is said—they manage their own + little matters, without doing injury to any one, and they never sacrifice, + for the sake of nonsense, a good place, which secures them a comfortable + provision for the rest of their days. I tell you frankly, however much I + may regret it, that should you not succeed in getting the preference for + my man, you will not remain bailiff here. + </p> + <p> + “But, sir,” said poor Dupont, “it will not be my fault, + if this lady, hearing a great deal in praise of the other curate, should + prefer him to your friend.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! but if, on the other hand, persons who have long lived in the + neighborhood—persons worthy of confidence, whom she will see every + day—tell Madame de la Sainte-Colombe a great deal of good of my + friend, and a great deal of harm of the other curate, she will prefer the + former, and you will continue bailiff.” + </p> + <p> + “But, sir—that would be calumny!” cried Dupont. + </p> + <p> + “Pshaw, my dear M. Dupont!” said Rodin, with an air of + sorrowful and affectionate reproach, “how can you think me capable + of giving you evil counsel?—I was only making a supposition. You + wish to remain bailiff on this estate. I offer you the certainty of doing + so—it is for you to consider and decide.” + </p> + <p> + “But, sir—” + </p> + <p> + “One word more—or rather one more condition—as important + as the other. Unfortunately, we have seen clergymen take advantage of the + age and weakness of their penitents, unfairly to benefit either themselves + or others: I believe our protege incapable of any such baseness—but, + in order to discharge my responsibility—and yours also, as you will + have contributed to his appointment—I must request that you will + write to me twice a week, giving the most exact detail of all that you + have remarked in the character, habits, connections, pursuits, of Madame + de la Sainte Colombe—for the influence of a confessor, you see, + reveals itself in the whole conduct of life, and I should wish to be fully + edified by the proceedings of my friend, without his being aware of it—or, + if anything blameable were to strike you, I should be immediately informed + of it by this weekly correspondence.” + </p> + <p> + “But, sir—that would be to act as a spy?” exclaimed the + unfortunate bailiff. + </p> + <p> + “Now, my dear M. Dupont! how can you thus brand the sweetest, most + wholesome of human desires—mutual confidence?—I ask of you + nothing else—I ask of you to write to me confidentially the details + of all that goes on here. On these two conditions, inseparable one from + the other, you remain bailiff; otherwise, I shall be forced, with grief + and regret, to recommend some one else to Madame de la Sainte-Colombe.” + </p> + <p> + “I beg you, sir,” said Dupont, with emotion, “Be + generous without any conditions!—I and my wife have only this place + to give us bread, and we are too old to find another. Do not expose our + probity of forty years’ standing to be tempted by the fear of want, + which is so bad a counsellor!” + </p> + <p> + “My dear M. Dupont, you are really a great child: you must reflect + upon this, and give me your answer in the course of a week.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, sir! I implore you—” The conversation was here + interrupted by a loud report, which was almost instantaneously repeated by + the echoes of the cliffs. “What is that?” said M. Rodin. + Hardly had he spoken, when the same noise was again heard more distinctly + than before. + </p> + <p> + “It is the sound of cannon,” cried Dupont, rising; “no + doubt a ship in distress, or signaling for a pilot.” + </p> + <p> + “My dear,” said the bailiffs wife, entering abruptly, “from + the terrace, we can see a steamer and a large ship nearly dismasted—they + are drifting right upon the shore—the ship is firing minute gulls—it + will be lost.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, it is terrible!” cried the bailiff, taking his hat and + preparing to go out, “to look on at a shipwreck, and be able to do + nothing!” + </p> + <p> + “Can no help be given to these vessels?” asked M. Rodin. + </p> + <p> + “If they are driven upon the reefs, no human power can save them; + since the last equinox two ships have been lost on this coast.” + </p> + <p> + “Lost with all on board?—Oh, very frightful,” said M. + Rodin. + </p> + <p> + “In such a storm, there is but little chance for the crew; no + matter,” said the bailiff, addressing his wife, “I will run + down to the rocks with the people of the farm, and try to save some of + them, poor creatures!—Light large fires in several rooms—get + ready linen, clothes, cordials—I scarcely dare hope to save any, but + we must do our best. Will you come with me, M. Rodin?” + </p> + <p> + “I should think it a duty, if I could be at all useful, but I am too + old and feeble to be of any service,” said M. Rodin, who was by no + means anxious to encounter the storm. “Your good lady will be kind + enough to show me the Green Chamber, and when I have found the articles I + require, I will set out immediately for Paris, for I am in great haste.” + </p> + <p> + “Very well, sir. Catherine will show you. Ring the big bell,” + said the bailiff to his servant; “let all the people of the farm + meet me at the foot of the cliff, with ropes and levers.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, my dear,” replied Catherine; “but do not expose + yourself.” + </p> + <p> + “Kiss me—it will bring me luck,” said the bailiff; and + he started at a full run, crying: “Quick! quick; by this time not a + plank may remain of the vessels.” + </p> + <p> + “My dear madam,” said Rodin, always impassible, “will + you be obliging enough to show me the Green Chamber?” + </p> + <p> + “Please to follow me, sir,” answered Catherine, drying her + tears—for she trembled on account of her husband, whose courage she + well knew. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0024" id="link2HCH0024"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXIV. THE TEMPEST + </h2> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>he sea is raging. + Mountainous waves of dark green, marbled with white foam, stand out, in + high, deep undulations, from the broad streak of red light, which extends + along the horizon. Above are piled heavy masses of black and sulphurous + vapor, whilst a few lighter clouds of a reddish gray, driven by the + violence of the wind, rush across the murky sky. + </p> + <p> + The pale winter sun, before he quite disappears in the great clouds, + behind which he is slowly mounting, casts here and there some oblique rays + upon the troubled sea, and gilds the transparent crest of some of the + tallest waves. A band of snow-white foam boils and rages as far as the eye + can reach, along the line of the reefs that bristle on this dangerous + coast. + </p> + <p> + Half-way up a rugged promontory, which juts pretty far into the sea, rises + Cardoville Castle; a ray of the sun glitters upon its windows; its brick + walls and pointed roofs of slate are visible in the midst of this sky + loaded with vapors. + </p> + <p> + A large, disabled ship, with mere shreds of sail still fluttering from the + stumps of broken masts, drives dead upon the coast. Now she rolls her + monstrous hull upon the waves—now plunges into their trough. A flash + is seen, followed by a dull sound, scarcely perceptible in the midst of + the roar of the tempest. That gun is the last signal of distress from this + lost vessel, which is fast forging on the breakers. + </p> + <p> + At the same moment, a steamer, with its long plume of black smoke, is + working her way from east to west, making every effort to keep at a + distance from the shore, leaving the breakers on her left. The dismasted + ship, drifting towards the rocks, at the mercy of the wind and tide, must + some time pass right ahead of the steamer. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly, the rush of a heavy sea laid the steamer upon her side; the + enormous wave broke furiously on her deck; in a second the chimney was + carried away, the paddle box stove in, one of the wheels rendered useless. + A second white-cap, following the first, again struck the vessel + amidships, and so increased the damage that, no longer answering to the + helm, she also drifted towards the shore, in the same direction as the + ship. But the latter, though further from the breakers, presented a + greater surface to the wind and sea, and so gained upon the steamer in + swiftness that a collision between the two vessels became imminent—a + new clanger added to all the horrors of the now certain wreck. + </p> + <p> + The ship was an English vessel, the “Black Eagle,” homeward + bound from Alexandria, with passengers, who arriving from India and Java, + via the Red Sea, had disembarked at the Isthmus of Suez, from on board the + steamship “Ruyter.” The “Black Eagle,” quitting + the Straits of Gibraltar, had gone to touch at the Azores. She headed + thence for Portsmouth, when she was overtaken in the Channel by the + northwester. The steamer was the “William Tell,” coming from + Germany, by way of the Elbe, and bound, in the last place, for Hamburg to + Havre. + </p> + <p> + These two vessels, the sport of enormous rollers, driven along by tide and + tempest, were now rushing upon the breakers with frightful speed. The deck + of each offered a terrible spectacle; the loss of crew and passengers + appeared almost certain, for before them a tremendous sea broke on jagged + rocks, at the foot of a perpendicular cliff. + </p> + <p> + The captain of the “Black Eagle,” standing on the poop, + holding by the remnant of a spar, issued his last orders in this fearful + extremity with courageous coolness. The smaller boats had been carried + away by the waves; it was in vain to think of launching the long-boat; the + only chance of escape in case the ship should not be immediately dashed to + pieces on touching the rocks, was to establish a communication with the + land by means of a life-line—almost the last resort for passing + between the shore and a stranded vessel. + </p> + <p> + The deck was covered with passengers, whose cries and terror augmented the + general confusion. Some, struck with a kind of stupor, and clinging + convulsively to the shrouds, awaited their doom in a state of stupid + insensibility. Others wrung their hands in despair, or rolled upon the + deck uttering horrible imprecations. Here, women knelt down to pray; + there, others hid their faces in their hands, that they might not see the + awful approach of death. A young mother, pale as a specter, holding her + child clasped tightly to her bosom, went supplicating from sailor to + sailor, and offering a purse full of gold and jewels to any one that would + take charge of her son. + </p> + <p> + These cries, and tears, and terror contrasted with the stern and silent + resignation of the sailors. Knowing the imminence of the inevitable + danger, some of them stripped themselves of part of their clothes, waiting + for the moment to make a last effort, to dispute their lives with the fury + of the waves; others renouncing all hope, prepared to meet death with + stoical indifference. + </p> + <p> + Here and there, touching or awful episodes rose in relief, if one may so + express it, from this dark and gloomy background of despair. + </p> + <p> + A young man of about eighteen or twenty, with shiny black hair, copper + colored complexion, and perfectly regular and handsome features, + contemplated this scene of dismay and horror with that sad calmness + peculiar to those who have often braved great perils; wrapped in a cloak, + he leaned his back against the bulwarks, with his feet resting against one + of the bulkheads. Suddenly, the unhappy mother, who, with her child in her + arms, and gold in her hand, had in vain addressed herself to several of + the mariners, to beg them to save her boy, perceiving the young man with + the copper-colored complexion, threw herself on her knees before him, and + lifted her child towards him with a burst of inexpressible agony. The + young man took it, mournfully shook his head, and pointed to the furious + waves—but, with a meaning gesture, he appeared to promise that he + would at least try to save it. Then the young mother, in a mad transport + of hope, seized the hand of the youth, and bathed it with her tears. + </p> + <p> + Further on, another passenger of the “Black Eagle,” seemed + animated by sentiments of the most active pity. One would hardly have + given him five-and-twenty years of age. His long, fair locks fell in curls + on either side of his angelic countenance. He wore a black cassock and + white neck-band. Applying himself to comfort the most desponding, he went + from one to the other, and spoke to them pious words of hope and + resignation; to hear him console some, and encourage others, in language + full of unction, tenderness, and ineffable charity, one would have + supposed him unaware or indifferent to the perils that he shared. + </p> + <p> + On his fine, mild features, was impressed a calm and sacred intrepidity, a + religious abstraction from every terrestrial thought; from time to time, + he raised to heaven his large blue eyes, beaming with gratitude, love, and + serenity, as if to thank God for having called him to one of those + formidable trials in which the man of humanity and courage may devote + himself for his brethren, and, if not able to rescue them at all, at least + die with them, pointing to the sky. One might almost have taken him for an + angel, sent down to render less cruel the strokes of inexorable fate. + </p> + <p> + Strange contrast! not far from this young man’s angelic beauty, + there was another being, who resembled an evil spirit! + </p> + <p> + Boldly mounted on what was left of the bowsprit, to which he held on by + means of some remaining cordage, this man looked down upon the terrible + scene that was passing on the deck. A grim, wild joy lighted up his + countenance of a dead yellow, that tint peculiar to those who spring from + the union of the white race with the East. He wore only a shirt and linen + drawers; from his neck was suspended, by a cord, a cylindrical tin box, + similar to that in which soldiers carry their leave of absence. + </p> + <p> + The more the danger augmented, the nearer the ship came to the breakers, + or to a collision with the steamer, which she was now rapidly approaching—a + terrible collision, which would probably cause the two vessels to founder + before even they touched the rocks—the more did the infernal joy of + this passenger reveal itself in frightful transports. He seemed to long, + with ferocious impatience, for the moment when the work of destruction + should be accomplished. To see him thus feasting with avidity on all the + agony, the terror, and the despair of those around him, one might have + taken him for the apostle of one of those sanguinary deities, who, in + barbarous countries, preside over murder and carnage. + </p> + <p> + By this time the “Black Eagle,” driven by the wind and waves, + came so near the “William Tell” that the passengers on the + deck of the nearly dismantled steamer were visible from the first-named + vessel. + </p> + <p> + These passengers were no longer numerous. The heavy sea, which stove in + the paddle-box and broke one of the paddles, had also carried away nearly + the whole of the bulwarks on that side; the waves, entering every instant + by this large opening, swept the decks with irresistible violence, and + every time bore away with them some fresh victims. + </p> + <p> + Amongst the passengers, who seemed only to have escaped this danger to be + hurled against the rocks, or crushed in the encounter of the two vessels, + one group was especially worthy of the most tender and painful interest. + Taking refuge abaft, a tall old man, with bald forehead and gray + moustache, had lashed himself to a stanchion, by winding a piece of rope + round his body, whilst he clasped in his arms, and held fast to his + breast, two girls of fifteen or sixteen, half enveloped in a pelisse of + reindeer-skin. A large, fallow, Siberian dog, dripping with water, and + barking furiously at the waves, stood close to their feet. + </p> + <p> + These girls, clasped in the arms of the old man, also pressed close to + each other; but, far from being lost in terror, they raised their eyes to + heaven, full of confidence and ingenuous hope, as though they expected to + be saved by the intervention of some supernatural power. + </p> + <p> + A frightful shriek of horror and despair, raised by the passengers of both + vessels, was heard suddenly above the roar of the tempest. At the moment + when, plunging deeply between two waves, the broadside of the steamer was + turned towards the bows of the ship, the latter, lifted to a prodigious + height on a mountain of water, remained, as it were, suspended over the + “William Tell,” during the second which preceded the shock of + the two vessels. + </p> + <p> + There are sights of so sublime a horror, that it is impossible to describe + them. Yet, in the midst of these catastrophes, swift as thought, one + catches sometimes a momentary glimpse of a picture, rapid and fleeting, as + if illumined by a flash of lightning. + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:65%;"> + <img src="images/10233m.jpg" alt="10233m " width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/10233.jpg"><i>Original</i></a> + </h5> + <p> + Thus, when the “Black Eagle,” poised aloft by the flood, was + about to crash down upon the “William Tell,” the young man + with the angelic countenance and fair, waving locks bent over the prow of + the ship, ready to cast himself into the sea to save some victim. + Suddenly, he perceived on board the steamer, on which he looked down from + the summit of the immense wave, the two girls extending their arms towards + him in supplication. They appeared to recognize him, and gazed on him with + a sort of ecstacy and religious homage! + </p> + <p> + For a second, in spite of the horrors of the tempest, in spite of the + approaching shipwreck, the looks of those three beings met. The features + of the young man were expressive of sudden and profound pity; for the + maidens with their hands clasped in prayer, seemed to invoke him as their + expected Saviour. The old man, struck down by the fall of a plank, lay + helpless on the deck. Soon all disappeared together. + </p> + <p> + A fearful mass of water dashed the “Black Eagle” down upon the + “William Tell,” in the midst of a cloud of boiling foam. To + the dreadful crash of the two great bodies of wood and iron, which + splintering against one another, instantly foundered, one loud cry was + added—a cry of agony and death—the cry of a hundred human + creatures swallowed up at once by the waves! + </p> + <p> + And then—nothing more was visible! + </p> + <p> + A few moments after, the fragments of the two vessels appeared in the + trough of the sea, and on the caps of the waves—with here and there + the contracted arms, the livid and despairing faces of some unhappy + wretches, striving to make their way to the reefs along the shore, at the + risk of being crushed to death by the shock of the furious breakers. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0025" id="link2HCH0025"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXV. THE SHIPWRECK. + </h2> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">W</span>hile the bailiff + was gone to the sea-shore, to render help to those of the passengers who + might escape from the inevitable shipwreck, M. Rodin, conducted by + Catherine to the Green Chamber, had there found the articles that he was + to take with him to Paris. + </p> + <p> + After passing two hours in this apartment, very indifferent to the fate of + the shipwrecked persons, which alone absorbed the attention of the + inhabitants of the Castle, Rodin returned to the chamber commonly occupied + by the bailiff, a room which opened upon a long gallery. When he entered + it he found nobody there. Under his arm he held a casket, with silver + fastenings, almost black from age, whilst one end of a large red morocco + portfolio projected from the breast-pocket of his half buttoned great + coat. + </p> + <p> + Had the cold and livid countenance of the Abbe d’Aigrigny’s + secretary been able to express joy otherwise than by a sarcastic smile, + his features would have been radiant with delight; for, just then, he was + under the influence of the most agreeable thoughts. Having placed the + casket upon a table, it was with marked satisfaction that he thus communed + with himself: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +“All goes well. It was prudent to keep these papers here till this +moment, for one must always be on guard against the diabolical spirit of +that Adrienne de Cardoville, who appears to guess instinctively what it +is impossible she should know. Fortunately, the time approaches when we +shall have no more need to fear her. Her fate will be a cruel one; it +must be so. Those proud, independent characters are at all times our +natural enemies—they are so by their very essence—how much more when +they show themselves peculiarly hurtful and dangerous! As for La Sainte +Colombe, the bailiff is sure to act for us; between what the fool +calls his conscience, and the dread of being at his age deprived of a +livelihood, he will not hesitate. I wish to have him because he will +serve us better than a stranger; his having been here twenty years will +prevent all suspicion on the part of that dull and narrow-minded woman. +Once in the hands of our man at Roiville, I will answer for the result. +The course of all such gross and stupid women is traced beforehand: +in their youth, they serve the devil; in riper years, they make others +serve him; in their old age, they are horribly afraid of him; and this +fear must continue till she has left us the Chateau de Cardoville, +which, from its isolated position, will make us an excellent college. +All then goes well. As for the affair of the medals, the 13th of +February approaches, without news from Joshua—evidently, Prince Djalma +is still kept prisoner by the English in the heart of India, or I must +have received letters from Batavia. The daughters of General Simon will +be detained at Leipsic for at least a month longer. All our foreign +relations are in the best condition. As for our internal affairs—” + + Here M. Rodin was interrupted in the current of his reflections by the +entrance of Madame Dupont, who was zealously engaged in preparations to +give assistance in case of need. +</pre> + <p> + “Now,” said she to the servant, “light a fire in the + next room; put this warm wine there; your master may be in every minute.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, my dear madam,” said Rodin to her, “do they hope + to save any of these poor creatures?” + </p> + <p> + “Alas! I do not know, sir. My husband has been gone nearly two + hours. I am terribly uneasy on his account. He is so courageous, so + imprudent, if once he thinks he can be of any service.” + </p> + <p> + “Courageous even to imprudence,” said Rodin to himself, + impatiently; “I do not like that.” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” resumed Catherine, “I have here at hand my hot + linen, my cordials—heaven grant it may all be of use!” + </p> + <p> + “We may at least hope so, my dear madam. I very much regretted that + my age and weakness did not permit me to assist your excellent husband. I + also regret not being able to wait for the issue of his exertions, and to + wish him joy if successful—for I am unfortunately compelled to + depart, my moments are precious. I shall be much obliged if you will have + the carriage got ready.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Sir; I will see about it directly.” + </p> + <p> + “One word, my dear, good Madame Dupont. You are a woman of sense, + and excellent judgment. Now I have put your husband in the way to keep, if + he will, his situation as bailiff of the estate—” + </p> + <p> + “Is it possible? What gratitude do we not owe you! Without this + place what would become of us at our time of life?” + </p> + <p> + “I have only saddled my promise with two conditions—mere + trifles—he will explain all that to you.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, sir! we shall regard you as our deliverer.” + </p> + <p> + “You are too good. Only, on two little conditions—” + </p> + <p> + “If there were a hundred, sir we should gladly accept them. Think + what we should be without this place—penniless—absolutely + penniless!” + </p> + <p> + “I reckon upon you then; for the interest of your husband, you will + try to persuade him.” + </p> + <p> + “Missus! I say, missus! here’s master come back,” cried + a servant, rushing into the chamber. + </p> + <p> + “Has he many with him?” + </p> + <p> + “No, missus; he is alone.” + </p> + <p> + “Alone! alone?” + </p> + <p> + “Quite alone, missus.” + </p> + <p> + A few moments after, M. Dupont entered the room; his clothes were + streaming with water; to keep his hat on in the midst of the storm, he had + tied it down to his head by means of his cravat, which was knotted under + his chin; his gaiters were covered with chalky stains. + </p> + <p> + “There I have thee, my dear love!” cried his wife, tenderly + embracing him. “I have been so uneasy!” + </p> + <p> + “Up to the present moment—THREE SAVED.” + </p> + <p> + “God be praised, my dear M. Dupont!” said Rodin; “at + least your efforts will not have been all in vain.” + </p> + <p> + “Three, only three?” said Catherine. “Gracious heaven!” + </p> + <p> + “I only speak of those I saw myself, near the little creek of + Goelands. Let us hope there may be more saved on other parts of the coast.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, indeed; happily, the shore is not equally steep in all parts.” + </p> + <p> + “And where are these interesting sufferers, my dear sir?” + asked Rodin, who could not avoid remaining a few instants longer. + </p> + <p> + “They are mounting the cliffs, supported by our people. As they + cannot walk very fast, I ran on before to console my wife, and to take the + necessary measures for their reception. First of all, my dear, you must + get ready some women’s clothes.” + </p> + <p> + “There is then a woman amongst the persons saved?” + </p> + <p> + “There are two girls—fifteen or sixteen years of age at the + most—mere children—and so pretty!” + </p> + <p> + “Poor little things!” said Rodin, with an affectation of + interest. + </p> + <p> + “The person to whom they owe their lives is with them. He is a real + hero!” + </p> + <p> + “A hero?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; only fancy—” + </p> + <p> + “You can tell me all this by and by. Just slip on this dry warm + dressing-gown, and take some of this hot wine. You are wet through.” + </p> + <p> + “I’ll not refuse, for I am almost frozen to death. I was + telling you that the person who saved these young girls was a hero; and + certainly his courage was beyond anything one could have imagined. When I + left here with the men of the farm, we descended the little winding path, + and arrived at the foot of the cliff—near the little creek of + Goelands, fortunately somewhat sheltered from the waves by five or six + enormous masses of rock stretching out into the sea. Well, what should we + find there? Why, the two young girls I spoke of, in a swoon, with their + feet still in the water, and their bodies resting against a rock, as + though they had been placed there by some one, after being withdrawn from + the sea.” + </p> + <p> + “Dear children! it is quite touching!” said M. Rodin, raising, + as usual, the tip of his little finger to the corner of his right eye, as + though to dry a tear, which was very seldom visible. + </p> + <p> + “What struck me was their great resemblance to each other,” + resumed the bailiff; “only one in the habit of seeing them could + tell the difference.” + </p> + <p> + “Twin—sisters, no doubt,” said Madame Dupont. + </p> + <p> + “One of the poor things,” continued the bailiff, “held + between her clasped hands a little bronze medal, which was suspended from + her neck by a chain of the same material.” + </p> + <p> + Rodin generally maintained a very stooping posture; but at these last + words of the bailiff, he drew himself up suddenly, whilst a faint color + spread itself over his livid cheeks. In any other person, these symptoms + would have appeared of little consequence; but in Rodin, accustomed for + long years to control and dissimulate his emotions, they announced no + ordinary excitement. Approaching the bailiff, he said to him in a slightly + agitated voice, but still with an air of indifference: “It was + doubtless a pious relic. Did you see what was inscribed on this medal?” + </p> + <p> + “No, sir; I did not think of it.” + </p> + <p> + “And the two young girls were like one another—very much like, + you say?” + </p> + <p> + “So like, that one would hardly know which was which. Probably they + are orphans, for they are dressed in mourning.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! dressed in mourning?” said M. Rodin, with another start. + </p> + <p> + “Alas! orphans so young!” said Madame Dupont, wiping her eyes. + </p> + <p> + “As they had fainted away, we carried them further on to a place + where the sand was quite dry. While we were busy about this, we saw the + head of a man appear from behind one of the rocks, which he was trying to + climb, clinging to it by one hand; we ran to him, and luckily in the nick + of time, for he was clean worn out, and fell exhausted into the arms of + our men. It was of him I spoke when I talked of a hero; for, not content + with having saved the two young girls by his admirable courage, he had + attempted to rescue a third person, and had actually gone back amongst the + rocks and breakers—but his strength failed him, and, without the aid + of our men, he would certainly have been washed away from the ridge to + which he clung.” + </p> + <p> + “He must indeed be a fine fellow!” said Catherine. + </p> + <p> + Rodin, with his head bowed upon his breast, seemed quite indifferent to + this conversation. The dismay and stupor, in which he had been plunged, + only increased upon reflection. The two girls, who had just been saved, + were fifteen years of age; were dressed in mourning; were so like, that + one might be taken for the other; one of them wore round her neck a chain + with a bronze medal; he could scarcely doubt that they were the daughters + of General Simon. But how could those sisters be amongst the number of + shipwrecked passengers? How could they have escaped from the prison at + Leipsic? How did it happen, that he had not been informed of it? Could + they have fled, or had they been set at liberty? How was it possible that + he should not be apprise of such an event? But these secondary thoughts, + which offered themselves in crowds to the mind of M. Rodin, were swallowed + up in the one fact: “the daughters of General Simon are here!”—His + plan, so laboriously laid, was thus entirely destroyed. + </p> + <p> + “When I speak of the deliverer of these young girls,” resumed + the bailiff, addressing his wife, and without remarking M. Rodin’s + absence of mind, “you are expecting no doubt to see a Hercules?—well, + he is altogether the reverse. He is almost a boy in look, with fair, sweet + face, and light, curling locks. I left him a cloak to cover him, for he + had nothing on but his shirt, black knee-breeches, and a pair of black + worsted stockings—which struck me as singular.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, it was certainly not a sailor’s dress.” + </p> + <p> + “Besides, though the ship was English, I believe my hero is a + Frenchman, for he speaks our language as well as we do. What brought the + tears to my eyes, was to see the young girls, when they came to + themselves. As soon as they saw him, they threw themselves at his feet, + and seemed to look up to him and thank him, as one would pray. Then they + cast their eyes around them, as if in search of some other person, and, + having exchanged a few words, they fell sobbing into each other’s + arms.” + </p> + <p> + “What a dreadful thing it is! How many poor creatures must have + perished!” + </p> + <p> + “When we quitted the rocks, the sea had already cast ashore seven + dead bodies, besides fragments of the wrecks, and packages. I spoke to + some of the coast-guard, and they will remain all day on the look-out; and + if, as I hope, any more should escape with life, they are to be brought + here. But surely that is the sound of voices!—yes, it is our + shipwrecked guests!” + </p> + <p> + The bailiff and his wife ran to the door of the room—that door, + which opened on the long gallery—whilst Rodin, biting convulsively + his flat nails, awaited with angry impatience the arrival of the + strangers. A touching picture soon presented itself to his view. + </p> + <p> + From the end of the dark some gallery, only lighted on one side by several + windows, three persons, conducted by a peasant, advanced slowly. This + group consisted of the two maidens, and the intrepid young man to whom + they owed their lives. Rose and Blanche were on either side of their + deliverer, who, walking with great difficulty, supported himself lightly + on their arms. + </p> + <p> + Though he was full twenty-five years of age, the juvenile countenance of + this man made him appear younger. His long, fair hair, parted on the + forehead, streamed wet and smooth over the collar of a large brown cloak, + with which he had been covered. It would be difficult to describe the + adorable expression of goodness in his pale, mild face, as pure as the + most ideal creations of Raphael’s pencil—for that divine + artist alone could have caught the melancholy grace of those exquisite + features, the serenity of that celestial look, from eyes limpid and blue + as those of an archangel, or of a martyr ascended to the skies. + </p> + <p> + Yes, of a martyr! for a blood-red halo already encircled that beauteous + head. Piteous sight to see! just above his light eyebrows, and rendered + still more visible by the effect of the cold, a narrow cicatrix, from a + wound inflicted many months before, appeared to encompass his fair + forehead with a purple band; and (still more sad!) his hands had been + cruelly pierced by a crucifixion—his feet had suffered the same + injury—and, if he now walked with so much difficulty, it was that + his wounds had reopened, as he struggled over the sharp rocks. + </p> + <p> + This young man was Gabriel, the priest attached to the foreign mission, + the adopted son of Dagobert’s wife. He was a priest and martyr—for, + in our days, there are still martyrs, as in the time when the Caesars + flung the early Christians to the lions and tigers of the circus. + </p> + <p> + Yes, in our days, the children of the people—for it is almost always + amongst them that heroic and disinterested devotion may still be found—the + children of the people, led by an honorable conviction, because it is + courageous and sincere, go to all parts of the world, to try and propagate + their faith, and brave both torture and death with the most unpretending + valor. + </p> + <p> + How many of them, victims of some barbarous tribe, have perished, obscure + and unknown, in the midst of the solitudes of the two worlds!—And + for these humble soldiers of the cross, who have nothing but their faith + and their intrepidity, there is never reserved on their return (and they + seldom do return) the rich and sumptuous dignities of the church. Never + does the purple or the mitre conceal their scarred brows and mutilated + limbs; like the great majority of other soldiers, they die forgotten.(8) + </p> + <p> + In their ingenuous gratitude, the daughters of General Simon, as soon as + they recovered their senses after the shipwreck, and felt themselves able + to ascend the cliffs, would not leave to any other person the care of + sustaining the faltering steps of him who had rescued them from certain + death. + </p> + <p> + The black garments of Rose and Blanche streamed with water; their faces + were deadly pale, and expressive of deep grief; the marks of recent tears + were on their cheeks, and, with sad, downcast eyes, they trembled both + from agitation and cold, as the agonizing thought recurred to them, that + they should never again see Dagobert, their friend and guide; for it was + to him that Gabriel had stretched forth a helping hand, to assist him to + climb the rocks. Unfortunately the strength of both had failed, and the + soldier had been carried away by a retreating wave. + </p> + <p> + The sight of Gabriel was a fresh surprise for Rodin, who had retired on + one side, in order to observe all; but this surprise was of so pleasant a + nature, and he felt so much joy in beholding the missionary safe after + such imminent peril, that the painful impression, caused by the view of + General Simon’s daughters, was a little softened. It must not be + forgotten, that the presence of Gabriel in Paris, on the 13th of February, + was essential to the success of Rodin’s projects. + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:65%;"> + <img src="images/10241m.jpg" alt="10241m " width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/10241.jpg"><i>Original</i></a> + </h5> + <p> + The bailiff and his wife, who were greatly moved at sight of the orphans, + approached them with eagerness. Just then a farm-boy entered the room, + crying: “Sir! sir! good news—two more saved from the wreck!” + </p> + <p> + “Blessing and praise to God for it!” said the missionary. + </p> + <p> + “Where are they?” asked the bailiff, hastening towards the + door. + </p> + <p> + “There is one who can walk, and is following behind me with Justin; + the other was wounded against the rocks, and they are carrying him on a + litter made of branches.” + </p> + <p> + “I will run and have him placed in the room below,” said the + bailiff, as he went out. “Catherine, you can look to the young + ladies.” + </p> + <p> + “And the shipwrecked man who can walk—where is he?” + asked the bailiff’s wife. + </p> + <p> + “Here he is,” said the peasant, pointing to some one who came + rapidly along the gallery; “when he heard that the two young ladies + were safe in the chateau—though he is old, and wounded in the head, + he took such great strides, that it was all I could do to get here before + him.” + </p> + <p> + Hardly had the peasant pronounced these words, when Rose and Blanche, + springing up by a common impulse, flew to the door. They arrived there at + the same moment as Dagobert. + </p> + <p> + The soldier, unable to utter a syllable, fell on his knees at the + threshold, and extended his arms to the daughters of General Simon; while + Spoil-sport, running to them licked their hands. + </p> + <p> + But the emotion was too much for Dagobert; and, when he had clasped the + orphans in his arms, his head fell backward, and he would have sunk down + altogether, but for the care of the peasants. In spite of the observations + of the bailiff’s wife, on their state of weakness and agitation, the + two young girls insisted on accompanying Dagobert, who was carried + fainting into an adjoining apartment. + </p> + <p> + At sight of the soldier, Rodin’s face was again violently + contracted, for he had till then believed that the guide of General Simon’s + daughters was dead. The missionary, worn out with fatigue, was leaning + upon a chair, and had not yet perceived Rodin. + </p> + <p> + A new personage, a man with a dead yellow complexion, now entered the + room, accompanied by another peasant, who pointed out Gabriel to him. This + man, who had just borrowed a smock-frock and a pair of trousers, + approached the missionary, and said to him in French but with a foreign + accent: “Prince Djalma has just been brought in here. His first word + was to ask for you.” + </p> + <p> + “What does that man say?” cried Rodin, in a voice of thunder; + for, at the name of Djalma, he had sprung with one bound to Gabriel’s + side. + </p> + <p> + “M. Rodin!” exclaimed the missionary, falling back in + surprise. + </p> + <p> + “M. Rodin,” cried the other shipwrecked person; and from that + moment, he kept his eye fixed on the correspondent of M. Van Dael. + </p> + <p> + “You here, sir?” said Gabriel, approaching Rodin with an air + of deference, not unmixed with fear. + </p> + <p> + “What did that man say to you?” repeated Rodin, in an excited + tone. “Did he not utter the name of Prince Djalma?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir; Prince Djalma was one of the passengers on board the + English ship, which came from Alexandria, and in which we have just been + wrecked. This vessel touched at the Azores, where I then was; the ship + that brought me from Charlestown having been obliged to put in there, and + being likely to remain for some time, on account of serious damage, I + embarked on board the ‘Black Eagle,’ where I met Prince + Djalma. We were bound to Portsmouth, and from thence my intention was to + proceed to France.” + </p> + <p> + Rodin did not care to interrupt Gabriel. This new shock had completely + paralyzed his thoughts. At length, like a man who catches at a last hope, + which he knows beforehand to be vain, he said to Gabriel: “Can you + tell me who this Prince Djalma is?” + </p> + <p> + “A young man as good as brave—the son of an East Indian king, + dispossessed of his territory by the English.” + </p> + <p> + Then, turning towards the other shipwrecked man, the missionary said to + him with anxious interest: “How is the Prince? are his wounds + dangerous?” + </p> + <p> + “They are serious contusions, but they will not be mortal,” + answered the other. + </p> + <p> + “Heaven be praised!” said the missionary, addressing Rodin; + “here, you see, is another saved.” + </p> + <p> + “So much the better,” observed Rodin, in a quick, imperious + tone. + </p> + <p> + “I will go see him,” said Gabriel, submissively. “You + have no orders to give me?” + </p> + <p> + “Will you be able to leave this place in two or three hours, + notwithstanding your fatigue?” + </p> + <p> + “If it be necessary—yes.” + </p> + <p> + “It is necessary. You will go with me.” + </p> + <p> + Gabriel only bowed in reply, and Rodin sank confounded into a chair, while + the missionary went out with the peasant. The man with the sallow + complexion still lingered in a corner of the room, unperceived by Rodin. + </p> + <p> + This man was Faringhea, the half-caste, one of the three chiefs of the + Stranglers. Having escaped the pursuit of the soldiers in the ruins of + Tchandi, he had killed Mahal the Smuggler, and robbed him of the + despatches written by M. Joshua Van Dael to Rodin, as also of the letter + by which the smuggler was to have been received as passenger on board the + “Ruyter.” When Faringhea left the hut in the ruins of Tchandi, + he had not been seen by Djalma; and the latter, when he met him on + shipboard, after his escape (which we shall explain by and by), not + knowing that he belonged to the sect of Phansegars, treated him during the + voyage as a fellow-countryman. + </p> + <p> + Rodin, with his eye fixed and haggard, his countenance of a livid hue, + biting his nails to the quick in silent rage, did not perceive the half + caste, who quietly approached him and laying his hand familiarly on his + shoulder, said to him: “Your name is Rodin?” + </p> + <p> + “What now?” asked the other, starting, and raising his head + abruptly. + </p> + <p> + “Your name is Rodin?” repeated Faringhea. + </p> + <p> + “Yes. What do you want?” + </p> + <p> + “You live in the Rue du Milieu-des-Ursins, Paris?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. But, once more, what do you want?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing now, brother: hereafter, much!” + </p> + <p> + And Faringhea, retiring, with slow steps, left Rodin alarmed at what had + passed; for this man, who scarcely trembled at anything, had quailed + before the dark look and grim visage of the Strangler. + </p> + <p> + (8) We always remember with emotion the end of a letter written, two or + three years ago, by one of these young and valiant missionaries, the son + of poor parents in Beauce. He was writing to his mother from the heart of + Japan, and thus concluded his letter: “Adieu, my dear mother! they + say there is much danger where I am now sent to. Pray for me, and tell all + our good neighbors that I think of them very often.” These few + words, addressed from the centre of Asia to poor peasants in a hamlet of + France, are only the more touching from their very simplicity—E. S. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0026" id="link2HCH0026"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXVI. THE DEPARTURE FOR PARIS. + </h2> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>he most profound + silence reigns throughout Cardoville House. The tempest has lulled by + degrees, and nothing is heard from afar but the hoarse murmur of the + waves, as they wash heavily the shore. + </p> + <p> + Dagobert and the orphans have been lodged in warm and comfortable + apartments on the first-floor of the chateau. Djalma, too severely hurt to + be carried upstairs, has remained in a room below. At the moment of the + shipwreck, a weeping mother had placed her child in his arms. He had + failed in the attempt to snatch this unfortunate infant from certain + death, but his generous devotion had hampered his movements, and when + thrown upon the rocks, he was almost dashed to pieces. Faringhea, who has + been able to convince him of his affection, remains to watch over him. + </p> + <p> + Gabriel, after administering consolation to Djalma, has rescinded to the + chamber allotted to him; faithful to the promise he made to Rodin, to be + ready to set out in two hours, he has not gone to bed; but, having dried + his clothes, he has fallen asleep in a large, high-backed arm-chair, + placed in front of a bright coal-fire. His apartment is situated near + those occupied by Dagobert and the two sisters. + </p> + <p> + Spoil-sport, probably quite at his ease in so respectable a dwelling, has + quitted the door of Rose and Blanche’s chamber, to lie down and warm + himself at the hearth, by the side of which the missionary is sleeping. + There, with his nose resting on his outstretched paws, he enjoys a feeling + of perfect comfort and repose, after so many perils by land and sea. We + will not venture to affirm, that he thinks habitually of poor old Jovial; + unless we recognize as a token of remembrance on his part, his + irresistible propensity to bite all the white horses he has met with, ever + since the death of his venerable companion, though before, he was the most + inoffensive of dogs with regard to horses of every color. + </p> + <p> + Presently one of the doors of the chamber opened, and the two sisters + entered timidly. Awake for some minutes, they had risen and dressed + themselves, feeling still some uneasiness with respect to Dagobert; though + the bailiff’s wife, after showing them to their room, had returned + again to tell them that the village doctor found nothing serious in the + hurt of the old soldier, still they hoped to meet some one belonging to + the chateau, of whom they could make further inquiries about him. + </p> + <p> + The high back of the old-fashioned arm-chair, in which Gabriel was + sleeping, completely screened him from view; but the orphans, seeing their + canine friend lying quietly at his feet, thought it was Dagobert reposing + there, and hastened towards him on tip-toe. To their great astonishment, + they saw Gabriel fast asleep, and stood still in confusion, not daring to + advance or recede, for fear of waking him. + </p> + <p> + The long, light hair of the missionary was no longer wet, and now curled + naturally round his neck and shoulders; the paleness of his complexion was + the more striking, from the contrast afforded by the deep purple of the + damask covering of the arm-chair. His beautiful countenance expressed a + profound melancholy, either caused by the influence of some painful dream, + or else that he was in the habit of keeping down, when awake, some sad + regrets, which revealed themselves without his knowledge when he was + sleeping. Notwithstanding this appearance of bitter grief, his features + preserved their character of angelic sweetness, and seemed endowed with an + inexpressible charm, for nothing is more touching than suffering goodness. + The two young girls cast down their eyes, blushed simultaneously, and + exchanged anxious glances, as if to point out to each other the slumbering + missionary. + </p> + <p> + “He sleeps, sister,” said Rose in a low voice. + </p> + <p> + “So much the better,” replied Blanche, also in a whisper, + making a sign of caution; “we shall now be able to observe him well.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, for we durst not do so, in coming from the sea hither.” + </p> + <p> + “Look! what a sweet countenance!” + </p> + <p> + “He is just the same as we saw him in our dreams.” + </p> + <p> + “When he promised he would protect us.” + </p> + <p> + “And he has not failed us.” + </p> + <p> + “But here, at least, he is visible.” + </p> + <p> + “Not as it was in the prison at Leipsic, during that dark night.” + </p> + <p> + “And so—he has again rescued us.” + </p> + <p> + “Without him, we should have perished this morning.” + </p> + <p> + “And yet, sister, it seems to me, that in our dreams his countenance + shone with light.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, you know it dazzled us to look at him.” + </p> + <p> + “And then he had not so sad a mien.” + </p> + <p> + “That was because he came then from heaven; now he is upon earth.” + </p> + <p> + “But, sister, had he then that bright red scar round his forehead?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no! we should have certainly perceived it.” + </p> + <p> + “And these other marks on his hands?” + </p> + <p> + “If he has been wounded, how can he be an archangel?” + </p> + <p> + “Why not, sister? If he received those wounds in preventing evil, or + in helping the unfortunate, who, like us, were about to perish?” + </p> + <p> + “You are right. If he did not run any danger for those he protects, + it would be less noble.” + </p> + <p> + “What a pity that he does not open his eye!” + </p> + <p> + “Their expression is so good, so tender!” + </p> + <p> + “Why did he not speak of our mother, by the way?” + </p> + <p> + “We were not alone with him; he did not like to do so.” + </p> + <p> + “But now we are alone.” + </p> + <p> + “If we were to pray to him to speak to us?” + </p> + <p> + The orphans looked doubtingly at each other, with charming simplicity; a + bright glow suffused their cheeks, and their young bosoms heaved gently + beneath their black dresses. + </p> + <p> + “You are right. Let us kneel down to him.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, sister! our hearts beat so!” said Blanche, believing + rightly, that Rose felt exactly as she did. “And yet it seems to do + us good. It is as if some happiness were going to befall us.” + </p> + <p> + The sisters, having approached the arm-chair on tip-toe, knelt down with + clasped hands, one to the right the other to the left of the young priest. + It was a charming picture. Turning their lovely faces towards him, they + said in a low whisper, with a soft, sweet voice, well suited to their + youthful appearance: “Gabriel! speak to us of our mother!” + </p> + <p> + On this appeal, the missionary gave a slight start, half-opened his eyes, + and, still in a state of semi-consciousness, between sleep and waking, + beheld those two beauteous faces turned towards him, and heard two gentle + voices repeat his name. + </p> + <p> + “Who calls me?” said he, rousing himself, and raising his + head. + </p> + <p> + “It is Blanche and Rose.” + </p> + <p> + It was now Gabriel’s turn to blush, for he recognized the young + girls he had saved. “Rise, my sisters!” said he to them; + “you should kneel only unto God.” + </p> + <p> + The orphans obeyed, and were soon beside him, holding each other by the + hand. “You know my name, it seems,” said the missionary with a + smile. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, we have not forgotten it!” + </p> + <p> + “Who told it you?” + </p> + <p> + “Yourself.” “I?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes—when you came from our mother.” + </p> + <p> + “I, my sisters?” said the missionary, unable to comprehend the + words of the orphans. “You are mistaken. I saw you to-day for the + first time.” + </p> + <p> + “But in our dreams?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes—do you not remember?—in our dreams.” + </p> + <p> + “In Germany—three months ago, for the first time. Look at us + well.” + </p> + <p> + Gabriel could not help smiling at the simplicity of Rose and Blanche, who + expected him to remember a dream of theirs; growing more and more + perplexed, he repeated: “In your dreams?” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly; when you gave us such good advice.” + </p> + <p> + “And when we were so sorrowful in prison, your words, which we + remembered, consoled us, and gave us courage.” + </p> + <p> + “Was it not you, who delivered us from the prison at Leipsic, in + that dark night, when we were not able to see you?” + </p> + <p> + “I!” + </p> + <p> + “What other but you would thus have come to our help, and to that of + our old friend?” + </p> + <p> + “We told him, that you would love him, because he loved us, although + he would not believe in angels.” + </p> + <p> + “And this morning, during the tempest, we had hardly any fear.” + </p> + <p> + “Because we expected you.” + </p> + <p> + “This morning—yes, my sisters—it pleased heaven to send + me to your assistance. I was coming from America, but I have never been in + Leipsic. I could not, therefore, have let you out of prison. Tell me, my + sisters,” added he, with a benevolent smile, “for whom do you + take me?” + </p> + <p> + “For a good angel whom we have seen already in dreams, sent by our + mother from heaven to protect us.” + </p> + <p> + “My dear sisters, I am only a poor priest. It is by mere chance, no + doubt, that I bear some resemblance to the angel you have seen in your + dreams, and whom you could not see in any other manner—for angels + are not visible to mortal eye. + </p> + <p> + “Angels are not visible?” said the orphans, looking + sorrowfully at each other. + </p> + <p> + “No matter, my dear sisters,” said Gabriel, taking them + affectionately by the hand; “dreams, like everything else, come from + above. Since the remembrance of your mother was mixed up with this dream, + it is twice blessed.” + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:65%;"> + <img src="images/10249m.jpg" alt="10249m " width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/10249.jpg"><i>Original</i></a> + </h5> + <p> + At this moment a door opened, and Dagobert made his appearance. Up to this + time, the orphans, in their innocent ambition to be protected by an + archangel, had quite forgotten the circumstance that Dagobert’s wife + had adopted a forsaken child, who was called Gabriel, and who was now a + priest and missionary. + </p> + <p> + The soldier, though obstinate in maintaining that his hurt was only a + blank wound (to use a term of General Simon’s), had allowed it to be + carefully dressed by the surgeon of the village, and now wore a black + bandage, which concealed one half of his forehead, and added to the + natural grimness of his features. On entering the room, he was not a + little surprised to see a stranger holding the hands of Rose and Blanche + familiarly in his own. This surprise was natural, for Dagobert did not + know that the missionary had saved the lives of the orphans, and had + attempted to save his also. + </p> + <p> + In the midst of the storm, tossed about by the waves, and vainly striving + to cling to the rocks, the soldier had only seen Gabriel very imperfectly, + at the moment when, having snatched the sisters from certain death, the + young priest had fruitlessly endeavored to come to his aid. And when, + after the shipwreck, Dagobert had found the orphans in safety beneath the + roof of the Manor House, he fell, as we have already stated, into a swoon, + caused by fatigue, emotion, and the effects of his wound—so that he + had again no opportunity of observing the features of the missionary. + </p> + <p> + The veteran began to frown from beneath his black bandage and thick, gray + brows, at beholding a stranger so familiar with Rose and Blanche; but the + sisters ran to throw themselves into his arms, and to cover him with + filial caresses. His anger was soon dissipated by these marks of + affection, though he continued, from time to time, to cast a suspicious + glance at the missionary, who had risen from his seat, but whose + countenance he could not well distinguish. + </p> + <p> + “How is your wound?” asked Rose, anxiously. “They told + us it was not dangerous.” + </p> + <p> + “Does it still pain?” added Blanche. + </p> + <p> + “No, children; the surgeon of the village would bandage me up in + this manner. If my head was carbonadoes with sabre cuts, I could not have + more wrappings. They will take me for an old milksop; it is only a blank + wound, and I have a good mind to—” And therewith the soldier + raised one of his hands to the bandage. + </p> + <p> + “Will you leave that alone?” cried Rose catching his arm. + “How can you be so unreasonable—at your age?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, well! don’t scold! I will do what you wish, and keep it + on.” Then, drawing the sisters to one end of the room, he said to + them in a low voice, whilst he looked at the young priest from the corner + of his eye: “Who is that gentleman who was holding your hands when I + came in? He has very much the look of a curate. You see, my children, you + must be on your guard; because—” + </p> + <p> + “He?” cried both sisters at once, turning towards Gabriel. + “Without him, we should not now be here to kiss you.” + </p> + <p> + “What’s that?” cried the soldier, suddenly drawing up + his tall figure, and gazing full at the missionary. + </p> + <p> + “It is our guardian angel,” resumed Blanche. + </p> + <p> + “Without him,” said Rose, “we must have perished this + morning in the shipwreck.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! it is he, who—” Dagobert could say no more. With + swelling heart, and tears in his eyes, he ran to the missionary, offered + him both his hands, and exclaimed in a tone of gratitude impossible to + describe: “Sir, I owe you the lives of these two children. I feel + what a debt that service lays upon me. I will not say more—because + it includes everything!” + </p> + <p> + Then, as if struck with a sudden recollection, he cried: “Stop! when + I was trying to cling to a rock, so as not to be carried away by the + waves, was it not you that held out your hand to me? Yes—that light + hair—that youthful countenance—yes—it was certainly you—now + I am sure of it!” + </p> + <p> + “Unhappily, sir, my strength failed me, and I had the anguish to see + you fall back into the sea.” + </p> + <p> + “I can say nothing more in the way of thanks than what I have + already said,” answered Dagobert, with touching simplicity: “in + preserving these children you have done more for me than if you had saved + my own life. But what heart and courage!” added the soldier, with + admiration; “and so young, with such a girlish look!” + </p> + <p> + “And so,” cried Blanche, joyfully, “our Gabriel came to + your aid also?” + </p> + <p> + “Gabriel!” said Dagobert interrupting Blanche, and addressing + himself to the priest. “Is your name Gabriel?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “Gabriel!” repeated the soldier, more and more surprised. + “And a priest!” added he. + </p> + <p> + “A priest of the foreign missions.” + </p> + <p> + “Who—who brought you up?” asked the soldier, with + increasing astonishment. + </p> + <p> + “An excellent and generous woman, whom I revere as the best of + mothers: for she had pity on me, a deserted infant, and treated me ever as + her son.” + </p> + <p> + “Frances Baudoin—was it not?” said the soldier, with + deep emotion. + </p> + <p> + “It was, sir,” answered Gabriel, astonished in his turn. + “But how do you know this?” + </p> + <p> + “The wife of a soldier, eh?” continued Dagobert. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, of a brave soldier—who, from the most admirable + devotion, is even now passing his life in exile—far from his wife—far + from his son, my dear brother—for I am proud to call him by that + name—” + </p> + <p> + “My Agricola!—my wife!—when did you leave them?” + </p> + <p> + “What! is it possible! You the father of Agricola?—Oh! I knew + not, until now,” cried Gabriel, clasping his hands together, “I + knew not all the gratitude that I owed to heaven!” + </p> + <p> + “And my wife! my child!” resumed Dagobert, in a trembling + voice; “how are they? have you news of them?” + </p> + <p> + “The accounts I received, three months ago, were excellent.” + </p> + <p> + “No; it is too much,” cried Dagobert; “it is too much!” + The veteran was unable to proceed; his feelings stifled his words, and + fell back exhausted in a chair. + </p> + <p> + And now Rose and Blanche recalled to mind that portion of their father’s + letter which related to the child named Gabriel, whom the wife of Dagobert + had adopted; then they also yielded to transports of innocent joy. + </p> + <p> + “Our Gabriel is the same as yours—what happiness!” cried + Rose. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, my children! he belongs to you as well as to me. We have all + our part in him.” Then, addressing Gabriel, the soldier added with + affectionate warmth: “Your hand, my brave boy! give me your hand!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, sir! you are too good to me.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes—that’s it—thank me!—after all thou has + done for us!” + </p> + <p> + “Does my adopted mother know of your return?” asked Gabriel, + anxious to escape from the praises of the soldier. + </p> + <p> + “I wrote to her five months since, but said that I should come + alone; there was a reason for it, which I will explain by and by. Does she + still live in the Rue Brise-Miche? It was there Agricola was born.” + </p> + <p> + “She still lives there.” + </p> + <p> + “In that case, she must have received my letter. I wished to write + to her from the prison at Leipsic, but it was impossible.” + </p> + <p> + “From prison! Have you just come out of prison?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; I come straight from Germany, by the Elbe and Hamburg, and I + should be still at Leipsic, but for an event which the Devil must have had + a hand in—a good sort of devil, though.” + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean? Pray explain to me.” + </p> + <p> + “That would be difficult, for I cannot explain it to myself. These + little ladies,” he added, pointing with a smile to Rose and Blanche, + “pretended to know more about it than I did, and were continually + repeating: ‘It was the angel that came to our assistance, Dagobert—the + good angel we told thee of—though you said you would rather have + Spoil sport to defend us—‘” + </p> + <p> + “Gabriel, I am waiting for you,” said a stern voice, which + made the missionary start. They all turned round instantly, whilst the dog + uttered a deep growl. + </p> + <p> + It was Rodin. He stood in the doorway leading to the corridor. His + features were calm and impassive, but he darted a rapid, piercing glance + at the soldier and sisters. + </p> + <p> + “Who is that man?” said Dagobert, very little prepossessed in + favor of Rodin, whose countenance he found singularly repulsive. “What + the mischief does he want?” + </p> + <p> + “I must go with him,” answered Gabriel, in a tone of sorrowful + constraint. Then, turning to Rodin, he added: “A thousand pardons! I + shall be ready in a moment.” + </p> + <p> + “What!” cried Dagobert, stupefied with amazement, “going + the very instant we have just met? No, by my faith! you shall not go. I + have too much to tell you, and to ask in return. We will make the journey + together. It will be a real treat for me.” + </p> + <p> + “It is impossible. He is my superior, and I must obey him.” + </p> + <p> + “Your superior?—why, he’s in citizen’s dress.” + </p> + <p> + “He is not obliged to wear the ecclesiastical garb.” + </p> + <p> + “Rubbish! since he is not in uniform, and there is no + provost-marshal in your troop, send him to the—” + </p> + <p> + “Believe me, I would not hesitate a minute, if it were possible to + remain.” + </p> + <p> + “I was right in disliking the phi of that man,” muttered + Dagobert between his teeth. Then he added, with an air of impatience and + vexation: “Shall I tell him that he will much oblige us by marching + off by himself?” + </p> + <p> + “I beg you not to do so,” said Gabriel; “it would be + useless; I know my duty, and have no will but my superior’s. As soon + as you arrive in Paris, I will come and see you, as also my adopted + mother, and my dear brother, Agricola.” + </p> + <p> + “Well—if it must be. I have been a soldier, and know what + subordination is,” said Dagobert, much annoyed. “One must put + a good face on bad fortune. So, the day after to-morrow, in the Rue + Brise-Miche, my boy; for they tell me I can be in Paris by to-morrow + evening, and we set out almost immediately. But I say—there seems to + be a strict discipline with you fellows!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, it is strict and severe,” answered Gabriel, with a + shudder, and a stifled sigh. + </p> + <p> + “Come, shake hands—and let’s say farewell for the + present. After all, twenty-four hours will soon pass away.” + </p> + <p> + “Adieu! adieu!” replied the missionary, much moved, whilst he + returned the friendly pressure of the veteran’s hand. + </p> + <p> + “Adieu, Gabriel!” added the orphans, sighing also, and with + tears in their eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Adieu, my sisters!” said Gabriel—and he left the room + with Rodin, who had not lost a word or an incident of this scene. + </p> + <p> + Two hours after, Dagobert and the orphans had quitted the Castle for + Paris, not knowing that Djalma was left at Cardoville, being still too + much injured to proceed on his journey. The half-caste, Faringhea, + remained with the young prince, not wishing, he said, to desert a fellow + countryman. + </p> + <p> + We now conduct the reader to the Rue Brise-Miche, the residence of + Dagobert’s wife. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0027" id="link2HCH0027"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXVII. DAGOBERT’S WIFE. + </h2> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>he following + scenes occur in Paris, on the morrow of the day when the shipwrecked + travellers were received in Cardoville House. + </p> + <p> + Nothing can be more gloomy than the aspect of the Rue Brise-Miche, one end + of which leads into the Rue Saint-Merry, and the other into the little + square of the Cloister, near the church. At this end, the street, or + rather alley—for it is not more than eight feet wide—is shut + in between immense black, muddy dilapidated walls, the excessive height of + which excludes both air and light; hardly, during the longest days of the + year, is the sun able to throw into it a few straggling beams; whilst, + during the cold damps of winter, a chilling fog, which seems to penetrate + everything, hangs constantly above the miry pavement of this species of + oblong well. + </p> + <p> + It was about eight o’clock in the evening; by the faint, reddish + light of the street lamp, hardly visible through the haze, two men, + stopping at the angle of one of those enormous walls, exchanged a few + words together. + </p> + <p> + “So,” said one, “you understand all about it. You are to + watch in the street, till you see them enter No. 5.” + </p> + <p> + “All right!” answered the other. + </p> + <p> + “And when you see ‘em enter so as to make quite sure of the + game, go up to Frances Baudoin’s room—” + </p> + <p> + “Under the cloak of asking where the little humpbacked workwoman + lives—the sister of that gay girl, the Queen of the Bacchanals.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes—and you must try and find out her address also—from + her humpbacked sister, if possible—for it is very important. Women + of her feather change their nests like birds, and we have lost track of + her.” + </p> + <p> + “Make yourself easy; I will do my best with Hump, to learn where her + sister hangs out.” + </p> + <p> + “And, to give you steam, I’ll wait for you at the tavern + opposite the Cloister, and we’ll have a go of hot wine on your + return.” + </p> + <p> + “I’ll not refuse, for the night is deucedly cold.” + </p> + <p> + “Don’t mention it! This morning the water friz on my + sprinkling-brush, and I turned as stiff as a mummy in my chair at the + church-door. Ah, my boy! a distributor of holy water is not always upon + roses!” + </p> + <p> + “Luckily, you have the pickings—” + </p> + <p> + “Well, well—good luck to you! Don’t forget the Fiver, + the little passage next to the dyer’s shop.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes—all right!” and the two men separated. + </p> + <p> + One proceeded to the Cloister Square; the other towards the further end of + the street, where it led into the Rue Saint-Merry. This latter soon found + the number of the house he sought—a tall, narrow building, having, + like all the other houses in the street, a poor and wretched appearance. + When he saw he was right, the man commenced walking backwards and forwards + in front of the door of No. 5. + </p> + <p> + If the exterior of these buildings was uninviting, the gloom and squalor + of the interior cannot be described. The house No. 5 was, in a special + degree, dirty and dilapidated. The water, which oozed from the wall, + trickled down the dark and filthy staircase. On the second floor, a wisp + of straw had been laid on the narrow landing-place, for wiping the feet + on; but this straw, being now quite rotten, only served to augment the + sickening odor, which arose from want of air, from damp, and from the + putrid exhalations of the drains. The few openings, cut at rare intervals + in the walls of the staircase, could hardly admit more than some faint + rays of glimmering light. + </p> + <p> + In this quarter, one of the most populous in Paris, such houses as these, + poor, cheerless, and unhealthy, are generally inhabited by the working + classes. The house in question was of the number. A dyer occupied the + ground floor; the deleterious vapors arising from his vats added to the + stench of the whole building. On the upper stories, several artisans + lodged with their families, or carried on their different trades. Up four + flights of stairs was the lodging of Frances Baudoin, wife of Dagobert. It + consisted of one room, with a closet adjoining, and was now lighted by a + single candle. Agricola occupied a garret in the roof. + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:65%;"> + <img src="images/10257m.jpg" alt="10257m " width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/10257.jpg"><i>Original</i></a> + </h5> + <p> + Old grayish paper, broken here and there by the cracks covered the crazy + wall, against which rested the bed; scanty curtains, running upon an iron + rod, concealed the windows; the brick floor, not polished, but often + washed, had preserved its natural color. At one end of this room was a + round iron stove, with a large pot for culinary purposes. On the wooden + table, painted yellow, marbled with brown, stood a miniature house made of + iron—a masterpiece of patience and skill, the work of Agricola + Baudoin, Dagobert’s son. + </p> + <p> + A plaster crucifix hung up against the wall, surrounded by several + branches of consecrated box-tree, and various images of saints, very + coarsely colored, bore witness to the habits of the soldier’s wife. + Between the windows stood one of those old walnut-wood presses, curiously + fashioned, and almost black with time; an old arm-chair, covered with + green cotton velvet (Agricola’s first present to his mother), a few + rush bottomed chairs, and a worktable on which lay several bags of coarse, + brown cloth, completed the furniture of this room, badly secured by a + worm-eaten door. The adjoining closet contained a few kitchen and + household utensils. + </p> + <p> + Mean and poor as this interior may perhaps appear, it would not seem so to + the greater number of artisans; for the bed was supplied with two + mattresses, clean sheets, and a warm counterpane; the old-fashioned press + contained linen; and, moreover, Dagobert’s wife occupied all to + herself a room as large as those in which numerous families, belonging to + honest and laborious workmen, often live and sleep huddled together—only + too happy if the boys and girls can have separate beds, or if the sheets + and blankets are not pledged at the pawnbroker’s. + </p> + <p> + Frances Baudoin, seated beside the small stove, which, in the cold and + damp weather, yielded but little warmth, was busied in preparing her son + Agricola’s evening meal. + </p> + <p> + Dagobert’s wife was about fifty years of age; she wore a close + jacket of blue cotton, with white flowers on it, and a stuff petticoat; a + white handkerchief was tied round her head, and fastened under the chin. + Her countenance was pale and meagre, the features regular, and expressive + of resignation and great kindness. It would have been difficult to find a + better, a more courageous mother. With no resource but her labor, she had + succeeded, by unwearied energy, in bringing up not only her own son + Agricola, but also Gabriel, the poor deserted child, of whom, with + admirable devotion, she had ventured to take charge. + </p> + <p> + In her youth, she had, as it were, anticipated the strength of later life, + by twelve years of incessant toil, rendered lucrative by the most violent + exertions, and accompanied by such privations as made it almost suicidal. + Then (for it was a time of splendid wages, compared to the present), by + sleepless nights and constant labor, she contrived to earn about two + shillings (fifty sous) a day, and with this she managed to educate her son + and her adopted child. + </p> + <p> + At the end of these twelve years, her health was ruined, and her strength + nearly exhausted; but, at all events, her boys had wanted for nothing, and + had received such an education as children of the people can obtain. About + this time, M. Francois Hardy took Agricola as an apprentice, and Gabriel + prepared to enter the priest’s seminary, under the active patronage + of M. Rodin, whose communications with the confessor of Frances Baudoin + had become very frequent about the year 1820. + </p> + <p> + This woman (whose piety had always been excessive) was one of those simple + natures, endowed with extreme goodness, whose self-denial approaches to + heroism, and who devote themselves in obscurity to a life of martyrdom—pure + and heavenly minds, in whom the instincts of the heart supply the place of + the intellect! + </p> + <p> + The only defect, or rather the necessary consequence of this extreme + simplicity of character, was the invincible determination she displayed in + yielding to the commands of her confessor, to whose influence she had now + for many years been accustomed to submit. She regarded this influence as + most venerable and sacred; no mortal power, no human consideration, could + have prevented her from obeying it. Did any dispute arise on the subject, + nothing could move her on this point; she opposed to every argument a + resistance entirely free from passion—mild as her disposition, calm + as her conscience—but, like the latter, not to be shaken. In a word, + Frances Baudoin was one of those pure, but uninstructed and credulous + beings, who may sometimes, in skillful and dangerous hands, become, + without knowing it, the instruments of much evil. + </p> + <p> + For some time past, the bad state of her health, and particularly the + increasing weakness of her sight, had condemned her to a forced repose; + unable to work more than two or three hours a day, she consumed the rest + of her time at church. + </p> + <p> + Frances rose from her seat, pushed the coarse bags at which she had been + working to the further end of the table, and proceeded to lay the cloth + for her son’s supper, with maternal care and solicitude. She took + from the press a small leathern bag, containing an old silver cup, very + much battered, and a fork and spoon, so worn and thin, that the latter cut + like a knife. These, her only plate (the wedding present of Dagobert) she + rubbed and polished as well as she was able, and laid by the side of her + son’s plate. They were the most precious of her possessions, not so + much for what little intrinsic value might attach to them, as for the + associations they recalled; and she had often shed bitter tears, when, + under the pressure of illness or want of employment, she had been + compelled to carry these sacred treasures to the pawnbroker’s. + </p> + <p> + Frances next took, from the lower shelf of the press, a bottle of water, + and one of wine about three-quarters full, which she also placed near her + son’s plate; she then returned to the stove, to watch the cooking of + the supper. + </p> + <p> + Though Agricola was not much later than usual, the countenance of his + mother expressed both uneasiness and grief; one might have seen, by the + redness of her eyes, that she had been weeping a good deal. After long and + painful uncertainty, the poor woman had just arrived at the conviction + that her eyesight, which had been growing weaker and weaker, would soon be + so much impaired as to prevent her working even the two or three hours a + day which had lately been the extent of her labors. + </p> + <p> + Originally an excellent hand at her needle, she had been obliged, as her + eyesight gradually failed her, to abandon the finer for the coarser sorts + of work, and her earnings had necessarily diminished in proportion; she + had at length been reduced to the necessity of making those coarse bags + for the army, which took about four yards of sewing, and were paid at the + rate of two sous each, she having to find her own thread. This work, being + very hard, she could at most complete three such bags in a day, and her + gains thus amounted to threepence (six sous)! + </p> + <p> + It makes one shudder to think of the great number of unhappy females, + whose strength has been so much exhausted by privations, old age, or + sickness, that all the labor of which they are capable, hardly suffices to + bring them in daily this miserable pittance. Thus do their gains diminish + in exact proportion to the increasing wants which age and infirmity must + occasion. + </p> + <p> + Happily, Frances had an efficient support in her son. A first-rate + workman, profiting by the just scale of wages adopted by M. Hardy, his + labor brought him from four to five shillings a day—more than double + what was gained by the workmen of many other establishments. Admitting + therefore that his mother were to gain nothing, he could easily maintain + both her and himself. + </p> + <p> + But the poor woman, so wonderfully economical that she denied herself even + some of the necessaries of life, had of late become ruinously liberal on + the score of the sacristy, since she had adopted the habit of visiting + daily the parish church. Scarcely a day passed but she had masses sung, or + tapers burnt, either for Dagobert, from whom she had been so long + separated, or for the salvation of her son Agricola, whom she considered + on the high-road to perdition. Agricola had so excellent a heart, so loved + and revered his mother, and considered her actions in this respect + inspired by so touching a sentiment, that he never complained when he saw + a great part of his week’s wages (which he paid regularly over to + his mother every Saturday) disappear in pious forms. + </p> + <p> + Yet now and then he ventured to remark to Frances, with as much respect as + tenderness, that it pained him to see her enduring privations injurious at + her age, because she preferred incurring these devotional expenses. But + what answer could he make to this excellent mother, when she replied with + tears: “My child, ‘tis for the salvation of your father and + yours too.” + </p> + <p> + To dispute the efficacy of masses, would have been venturing on a subject + which Agricola, through respect for his mother’s religious faith, + never discussed. He contented himself, therefore, with seeing her dispense + with comforts she might have enjoyed. + </p> + <p> + A discreet tap was heard at the door. “Come in,” said Frances. + The person came in. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0028" id="link2HCH0028"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXVIII. THE SISTER OF THE BACCHANAL QUEEN. + </h2> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>he person who now + entered was a girl of about eighteen, short, and very much deformed. + Though not exactly a hunchback, her spine was curved; her breast was + sunken, and her head deeply set in the shoulders. Her face was regular, + but long, thin, very pale, and pitted with the small pox; yet it expressed + great sweetness and melancholy. Her blue eyes beamed with kindness and + intelligence. By a strange freak of nature, the handsomest woman would + have been proud of the magnificent hair twisted in a coarse net at the + back of her head. She held an old basket in her hand. Though miserably + clad, the care and neatness of her dress revealed a powerful struggle with + her poverty. Notwithstanding the cold, she wore a scanty frock made of + print of an indefinable color, spotted with white; but it had been so + often washed, that its primitive design and color had long since + disappeared. In her resigned, yet suffering face, might be read a long + familiarity with every form of suffering, every description of taunting. + From her birth, ridicule had ever pursued her. We have said that she was + very deformed, and she was vulgarly called “Mother Bunch.” + Indeed it was so usual to give her this grotesque name, which every moment + reminded her of her infirmity, that Frances and Agricola, though they felt + as much compassion as other people showed contempt for her, never called + her, however, by any other name. + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:65%;"> + <img src="images/10265m.jpg" alt="10265m " width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/10265.jpg"><i>Original</i></a> + </h5> + <p> + Mother Bunch, as we shall therefore call her in future, was born in the + house in which Dagobert’s wife had resided for more than twenty + years; and she had, as it were, been brought up with Agricola and Gabriel. + </p> + <p> + There are wretches fatally doomed to misery. Mother Bunch had a very + pretty sister, on whom Perrine Soliveau, their common mother, the widow of + a ruined tradesman, had concentrated all her affection, while she treated + her deformed child with contempt and unkindness. The latter would often + come, weeping, to Frances, on this account, who tried to console her, and + in the long evenings amused her by teaching her to read and sew. + Accustomed to pity her by their mother’s example, instead of + imitating other children, who always taunted and sometimes even beat her, + Agricola and Gabriel liked her, and used to protect and defend her. + </p> + <p> + She was about fifteen, and her sister Cephyse was about seventeen, when + their mother died, leaving them both in utter poverty. Cephyse was + intelligent, active, clever, but different to her sister; she had the + lively, alert, hoydenish character which requires air, exercise and + pleasures—a good girl enough, but foolishly spoiled by her mother. + Cephyse, listening at first to Frances’s good advice, resigned + herself to her lot; and, having learnt to sew, worked like her sister, for + about a year. But, unable to endure any longer the bitter privations her + insignificant earnings, notwithstanding her incessant toil, exposed her to—privations + which often bordered on starvation—Cephyse, young, pretty, of warm + temperament, and surrounded by brilliant offers and seductions—brilliant, + indeed, for her, since they offered food to satisfy her hunger, shelter + from the cold, and decent raiment, without being obliged to work fifteen + hours a day in an obscure and unwholesome hovel—Cephyse listened to + the vows of a young lawyer’s clerk, who forsook her soon after. She + formed a connection with another clerk, whom she (instructed by the + examples set her), forsook in turn for a bagman, whom she afterwards cast + off for other favorites. In a word, what with changing and being forsaken, + Cephyse, in the course of one or two years, was the idol of a set of + grisettes, students and clerks; and acquired such a reputation at the + balls on the Hampstead Heaths of Paris, by her decision of character, + original turn of mind, and unwearied ardor in all kinds of pleasures, and + especially her wild, noisy gayety, that she was termed the Bacchanal + Queen, and proved herself in every way worthy of this bewildering royalty. + </p> + <p> + From that time poor Mother Bunch only heard of her sister at rare + intervals. She still mourned for her, and continued to toil hard to gain + her three-and-six a week. The unfortunate girl, having been taught sewing + by Frances, made coarse shirts for the common people and the army. For + these she received half-a-crown a dozen. They had to be hemmed, stitched, + provided with collars and wristbands, buttons, and button holes; and at + the most, when at work twelve and fifteen hours a day, she rarely + succeeded in turning out more than fourteen or sixteen shirts a week—an + excessive amount of toil that brought her in about three shillings and + fourpence a week. And the case of this poor girl was neither accidental + nor uncommon. And this, because the remuneration given for women’s + work is an example of revolting injustice and savage barbarism. They are + paid not half as much as men who are employed at the needle: such as + tailors, and makers of gloves, or waistcoats, etc.—no doubt because + women can work as well as men—because they are more weak and + delicate—and because their need may be twofold as great when they + become mothers. + </p> + <p> + Well, Mother Bunch fagged on, with three-and-four a week. That is to say, + toiling hard for twelve or fifteen hours every day; she succeeded in + keeping herself alive, in spite of exposure to hunger, cold, and poverty—so + numerous were her privations. Privations? No! The word privation expresses + but weakly that constant and terrible want of all that is necessary to + preserve the existence God gives; namely, wholesome air and shelter, + sufficient and nourishing food and warm clothing. Mortification would be a + better word to describe that total want of all that is essentially vital, + which a justly organized state of society ought—yes—ought + necessarily to bestow on every active, honest workman and workwoman, since + civilization has dispossessed them of all territorial right, and left them + no other patrimony than their hands. + </p> + <p> + The savage does not enjoy the advantage of civilization; but he has, at + least, the beasts of the field, the fowls of the air, the fish of the sea, + and the fruits of the earth, to feed him, and his native woods for shelter + and for fuel. The civilized man, disinherited of these gifts, considering + the rights of property as sacred, may, in return for his hard daily labor, + which enriches his country, demand wages that will enable him to live in + the enjoyment of health: nothing more, and nothing less. For is it living, + to drag along on the extreme edge which separates life from the grave, and + even there continually struggle against cold, hunger, and disease? And to + show how far the mortification which society imposes thus inexorably on + its millions of honest, industrious laborers (by its careless disregard of + all the questions which concern the just remuneration of labor), may + extend, we will describe how this poor girl contrived to live on three + shillings and sixpence a week. + </p> + <p> + Society, perhaps, may then feel its obligation to so many unfortunate + wretches for supporting, with resignation, the horrible existence which + leaves them just sufficient life to feel the worst pangs of humanity. Yes: + to live at such a price is virtue! Yes, society thus organized, whether it + tolerates or imposes so much misery, loses all right to blame the poor + wretches who sell themselves not through debauchery, but because they are + cold and famishing. This poor girl spent her wages as follows: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Six pounds of bread, second quality........0 8 1/2 + Four pails of water................0 2 + Lard or dripping (butter being out of the question)0 5 + Coarse salt....................0 0 3/4 + A bushel of charcoal...............0 4 + A quart of dried vegetables............0 3 + Three quarts of potatoes..............0 2 + Dips........................0 3 1/4 + Thread and needles.................0 2 1/2 + ______ + 2 7 +</pre> + <p> + To save charcoal, Mother Bunch prepared soup only two or three times a + week at most, on a stove that stood on the landing of the fourth story. On + other days she ate it cold. There remained nine or ten pence a week for + clothes and lodging. By rare good fortune, her situation was in one + respect an exception to the lot of many others. Agricola, that he might + not wound her delicacy, had come to a secret arrangement with the + housekeeper, and hired a garret for her, just large enough to hold a small + bed, a chair, and a table; for which the sempstress had to pay five + shillings a year. But Agricola, in fulfilment of his agreement with the + porter, paid the balance, to make up the actual rent of the garret, which + was twelve and sixpence. The poor girl had thus about eighteenpence a + month left for her other expenses. But many workwomen, whose position is + less fortunate than hers, since they have neither home nor family, buy a + piece of bread and some other food to keep them through the day; and at + night patronize the “twopenny rope,” one with another, in a + wretched room containing five or six beds, some of which are always + engaged by men, as male lodgers are by far the most abundant. Yes; and in + spite of the disgust that a poor and virtuous girl must feel at this + arrangement, she must submit to it; for a lodging-house keeper cannot have + separate rooms for females. To furnish a room, however meanly, the poor + workwoman must possess three or four shillings in ready money. But how + save this sum, out of weekly earnings of a couple of florins, which are + scarcely sufficient to keep her from starving, and are still less + sufficient to clothe her? No! no! The poor wretch must resign herself to + this repugnant cohabitation; and so, gradually, the instinct of modesty + becomes weakened; the natural sentiment of chastity, that saved her from + the “gay life,” becomes extinct; vice appears to be the only + means of improving her intolerable condition; she yields; and the first + “man made of money,” who can afford a governess for his + children, cries out against the depravity of the lower orders! And yet, + painful as the condition of the working woman is, it is relatively + fortunate. Should work fail her for one day, two days, what then? Should + sickness come—sickness almost always occasioned by unwholesome food, + want of fresh air, necessary attention, and good rest; sickness, often so + enervating as to render work impossible; though not so dangerous as to + procure the sufferer a bed in an hospital—what becomes of the + hapless wretches then? The mind hesitates, and shrinks from dwelling on + such gloomy pictures. + </p> + <p> + This inadequacy of wages, one terrible source only of so many evils, and + often of so many vices, is general, especially among women; and, again + this is not private wretchedness, but the wretchedness which afflicts + whole classes, the type of which we endeavor to develop in Mother Bunch. + It exhibits the moral and physical condition of thousands of human + creatures in Paris, obliged to subsist on a scanty four shillings a week. + This poor workwoman, then, notwithstanding the advantages she unknowingly + enjoyed through Agricola’s generosity, lived very miserably; and her + health, already shattered, was now wholly undermined by these constant + hardships. Yet, with extreme delicacy, though ignorant of the little + sacrifice already made for her by Agricola, Mother Bunch pretended she + earned more than she really did, in order to avoid offers of service which + it would have pained her to accept, because she knew the limited means of + Frances and her son, and because it would have wounded her natural + delicacy, rendered still more sensitive by so many sorrows and + humiliations. + </p> + <p> + But, singular as it may appear, this deformed body contained a loving and + generous soul—a mind cultivated even to poetry; and let us add, that + this was owing to the example of Agricola Baudoin, with whom she had been + brought up, and who had naturally the gift. This poor girl was the first + confidant to whom our young mechanic imparted his literary essays; and + when he told her of the charm and extreme relief he found in poetic + reverie, after a day of hard toil, the workwoman, gifted with strong + natural intelligence, felt, in her turn, how great a resource this would + be to her in her lonely and despised condition. + </p> + <p> + One day, to Agricola’s great surprise, who had just read some verses + to her, the sewing-girl, with smiles and blushes, timidly communicated to + him also a poetic composition. Her verses wanted rhythm and harmony, + perhaps; but they were simple and affecting, as a non-envenomed complaint + entrusted to a friendly hearer. From that day Agricola and she held + frequent consultations; they gave each other mutual encouragement: but + with this exception, no one else knew anything of the girl’s + poetical essays, whose mild timidity made her often pass for a person of + weak intellect. This soul must have been great and beautiful, for in all + her unlettered strains there was not a word of murmuring respecting her + hard lot: her note was sad, but gentle—desponding, but resigned; it + was especially the language of deep tenderness—of mournful sympathy—of + angelic charity for all poor creatures consigned, like her, to bear the + double burden of poverty and deformity. Yet she often expressed a sincere + free-spoken admiration of beauty, free from all envy or bitterness; she + admired beauty as she admired the sun. But, alas! many were the verses of + hers that Agricola had never seen, and which he was never to see. + </p> + <p> + The young mechanic, though not strictly handsome, had an open masculine + face; was as courageous as kind; possessed a noble, glowing, generous + heart, a superior mind, and a frank, pleasing gayety of spirits. The young + girl, brought up with him, loved him as an unfortunate creature can love, + who, dreading cruel ridicule, is obliged to hide her affection in the + depths of her heart, and adopt reserve and deep dissimulation. She did not + seek to combat her love; to what purpose should she do so? No one would + ever know it. Her well known sisterly affection for Agricola explained the + interest she took in all that concerned him; so that no one was surprised + at the extreme grief of the young workwoman, when, in 1830, Agricola, + after fighting intrepidly for the people’s flag, was brought + bleeding home to his mother. Dagobert’s son, deceived, like others, + on this point, had never suspected, and was destined never to suspect, + this love for him. + </p> + <p> + Such was the poorly-clad girl who entered the room in which Frances was + preparing her son’s supper. + </p> + <p> + “Is it you, my poor love,” said she; “I have not seen + you since morning: have you been ill? Come and kiss me.” + </p> + <p> + The young girl kissed Agricola’s mother, and replied: “I was + very busy about some work, mother; I did not wish to lose a moment; I have + only just finished it. I am going down to fetch some charcoal—do you + want anything while I’m out?” + </p> + <p> + “No, no, my child, thank you. But I am very uneasy. It is half-past + eight, and Agricola is not come home.” Then she added, after a sigh: + “He kills himself with work for me. Ah, I am very unhappy, my girl; + my sight is quite going. In a quarter of an hour after I begin working, I + cannot see at all—not even to sew sacks. The idea of being a burden + to my son drives me distracted.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, don’t, ma’am, if Agricola heard you say that—” + </p> + <p> + “I know the poor boy thinks of nothing but me, and that augments my + vexation. Only I think that rather than leave me, he gives up the + advantages that his fellow-workmen enjoy at Hardy’s, his good and + worthy master—instead of living in this dull garret, where it is + scarcely light at noon, he would enjoy, like the other workmen, at very + little expense, a good light room, warm in winter, airy in summer, with a + view of the garden. And he is so fond of trees! not to mention that this + place is so far from his work, that it is quite a toil to him to get to + it.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, when he embraces you he forgets his fatigue, Mrs. Baudoin,” + said Mother Bunch; “besides, he knows how you cling to the house in + which he was born. M. Hardy offered to settle you at Plessy with Agricola, + in the building put up for the workmen.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, my child; but then I must give up church. I can’t do + that.” + </p> + <p> + “But—be easy, I hear him,” said the hunchback, blushing. + </p> + <p> + A sonorous, joyous voice was heard singing on the stairs. + </p> + <p> + “At least, I’ll not let him see that I have been crying,” + said the good mother, drying her tears. “This is the only moment of + rest and ease from toil he has—I must not make it sad to him.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0029" id="link2HCH0029"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXIX. AGRICOLA BAUDOIN. + </h2> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">O</span>ur blacksmith + poet, a tall young man, about four-and-twenty years of age, was alert and + robust, with ruddy complexion, dark hair and eyes, and aquiline nose, and + an open, expressive countenance. His resemblance to Dagobert was rendered + more striking by the thick brown moustache which he wore according to the + fashion; and a sharp-pointed imperial covered his chin. His cheeks, + however, were shaven, Olive color velveteen trousers, a blue blouse, + bronzed by the forge smoke, a black cravat, tied carelessly round his + muscular neck, a cloth cap with a narrow vizor, composed his dress. The + only thing which contrasted singularly with his working habiliments was a + handsome purple flower, with silvery pistils, which he held in his hand. + </p> + <p> + “Good-evening, mother,” said he, as he came to kiss Frances + immediately. + </p> + <p> + Then, with a friendly nod, he added, “Good-evening, Mother Bunch.” + </p> + <p> + “You are very late, my child,” said Frances, approaching the + little stove on which her son’s simple meal was simmering; “I + was getting very anxious.” + </p> + <p> + “Anxious about me, or about my supper, dear mother?” said + Agricola, gayly. “The deuce! you won’t excuse me for keeping + the nice little supper waiting that you get ready for me, for fear it + should be spoilt, eh?” + </p> + <p> + So saying, the blacksmith tried to kiss his mother again. + </p> + <p> + “Have done, you naughty boy; you’ll make me upset the pan.” + </p> + <p> + “That would be a pity, mother; for it smells delightfully. Let’s + see what it is.” + </p> + <p> + “Wait half a moment.” + </p> + <p> + “I’ll swear, now, you have some of the fried potatoes and + bacon I’m so fond of.” + </p> + <p> + “Being Saturday, of course!” said Frances, in a tone of mild + reproach. + </p> + <p> + “True,” rejoined Agricola, exchanging a smile of innocent + cunning with Mother Bunch; “but, talking of Saturday, mother, here + are my wages.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank ye, child; put the money in the cupboard.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, mother!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, dear!” cried the young sempstress, just as Agricola was + about to put away the money, “what a handsome flower you have in + your hand, Agricola. I never saw a finer. In winter, too! Do look at it, + Mrs. Baudoin.” + </p> + <p> + “See there, mother,” said Agricola, taking the flower to her; + “look at it, admire it, and especially smell it. You can’t + have a sweeter perfume; a blending of vanilla and orange blossom.” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed, it does smell nice, child. Goodness! how handsome!” + said Frances, admiringly; “where did you find it?” + </p> + <p> + “Find it, my good mother!” repeated Agricola, smilingly: + “do you think folks pick up such things between the Barriere du + Maine and the Rue Brise-Miche?” + </p> + <p> + “How did you get it then?” inquired the sewing girl, sharing + in Frances’s curiosity. + </p> + <p> + “Oh! you would like to know? Well, I’ll satisfy you, and + explain why I came home so late; for something else detained me. It has + been an evening of adventures, I promise you. I was hurrying home, when I + heard a low, gentle barking at the corner of the Rue de Babylone; it was + just about dusk, and I could see a very pretty little dog, scarce bigger + than my fist, black and tan, with long, silky hair, and ears that covered + its paws.” + </p> + <p> + “Lost, poor thing, I warrant,” said Frances. + </p> + <p> + “You’ve hit it. I took up the poor thing, and it began to lick + my hands. Round its neck was a red satin ribbon, tied in a large bow; but + as that did not bear the master’s name, I looked beneath it, and saw + a small collar, made of a gold plate and small gold chains. So I took a + Lucifer match from my ‘bacco-box, and striking a light, I read, + ‘FRISKY belongs to Hon. Miss Adrienne de Cardoville, No. 7, Rue de + Babylone.’” + </p> + <p> + “Why, you were just in the street,” said Mother Bunch. + </p> + <p> + “Just so. Taking the little animal under my arm, I looked about me + till I came to a long garden wall, which seemed to have no end, and found + a small door of a summer-house, belonging no doubt to the large mansion at + the other end of the park; for this garden looked just like a park. So, + looking up I saw ‘No. 7,’ newly painted over a little door + with a grated slide. I rang; and in a few minutes, spent, no doubt, in + observing me through the bars (for I am sure I saw a pair of eyes peeping + through), the gate opened. And now, you’ll not believe a word I have + to say.” + </p> + <p> + “Why not, my child?” + </p> + <p> + “Because it seems like a fairy tale.” + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:65%;"> + <img src="images/10273m.jpg" alt="10273m " width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/10273.jpg"><i>Original</i></a> + </h5> + <p> + “A fairy tale?” said Mother Bunch, as if she was really her + namesake of elfish history. + </p> + <p> + “For, all the world it does. I am quite astounded, even now, at my + adventure; it is like the remembrance of a dream.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, let us have it,” said the worthy mother, so deeply + interested that she did not perceive her son’s supper was beginning + to burn. + </p> + <p> + “First,” said the blacksmith, smiling at the curiosity he had + excited, “a young lady opened the door to me, but so lovely, so + beautifully and gracefully dressed, that you would have taken her for a + beautiful portrait of past times. Before I could say a word, she + exclaimed, ‘Ah! dear me, sir, you have brought back Frisky; how + happy Miss Adrienne will be! Come, pray come in instantly; she would so + regret not having an opportunity to thank you in person!’ And + without giving me time to reply, she beckoned me to follow her. Oh, dear + mother, it is quite out of my power to tell you, the magnificence I saw, + as I passed through a small saloon, partially lighted, and full of + perfume! It would be impossible. The young woman walked too quickly. A + door opened,—Oh, such a sight! I was so dazzled I can remember + nothing but a great glare of gold and light, crystal and flowers; and, + amidst all this brilliancy, a young lady of extreme beauty—ideal + beauty; but she had red hair, or rather hair shining like gold! Oh! it was + charming to look at! I never saw such hair before. She had black eyes, + ruddy lips, and her skin seemed white as snow. This is all I can + recollect: for, as I said before, I was so dazzled, I seemed to be looking + through a veil. ‘Madame,’ said the young woman, whom I never + should have taken for a lady’s-maid, she was dressed so elegantly, + ‘here is Frisky. This gentleman found him, and brought him back.’ + ‘Oh, sir,’ said the young lady with the golden hair, in a + sweet silvery voice, ‘what thanks I owe you! I am foolishly attached + to Frisky.’ Then, no doubt, concluding from my dress that she ought + to thank me in some other way than by words, she took up a silk purse, and + said to me, though I must confess with some hesitation—‘No + doubt, sir, it gave you some trouble to bring my pet back. You have, + perhaps, lost some valuable time—allow me—’ She held + forth her purse.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Agricola,” said Mother Bunch, sadly; “how people + may be deceived!” + </p> + <p> + “Hear the end, and you will perhaps forgive the young lady. Seeing + by my looks that the offer of the purse hurt me, she took a magnificent + porcelain vase that contained this flower, and, addressing me in a tone + full of grace and kindness, that left me room to guess that she was vexed + at having wounded me, she said—‘At least, sir, you will accept + this flower.’” + </p> + <p> + “You are right, Agricola,” said the girl, smiling sadly; + “an involuntary error could not be repaired in a nicer way. + </p> + <p> + “Worthy young lady,” said Frances, wiping her eyes; “how + well she understood my Agricola!” + </p> + <p> + “Did she not, mother? But just as I was taking the flower, without + daring to raise my eyes (for, notwithstanding the young lady’s kind + manner, there was something very imposing about her) another handsome + girl, tall and dark, and dressed to the top of fashion, came in and said + to the red-haired young lady, ‘He is here, Madame.’ She + immediately rose and said to me, ‘A thousand pardons, sir. I shall + never forget that I am indebted to you for a moment of much pleasure. Pray + remember, on all occasions, my address and name—Adrienne de + Cardoville.’ Thereupon she disappeared. I could not find a word to + say in reply. The same young woman showed me to the door, and curtseyed to + me very politely. And there I stood in the Rue de Babylone, as dazzled and + astonished as if I had come out of an enchanted palace.” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed, my child, it is like a fairy tale. Is it not, my poor girl?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, ma’am,” said Mother Bunch, in an absent manner + that Agricola did not observe. + </p> + <p> + “What affected me most,” rejoined Agricola, “was, that + the young lady, on seeing her little dog, did not forget me for it, as + many would have done in her place, and took no notice of it before me. + That shows delicacy and feeling, does it not? Indeed, I believe this young + lady to be so kind and generous, that I should not hesitate to have + recourse to her in any important case.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, you are right,” replied the sempstress, more and more + absent. + </p> + <p> + The poor girl suffered extremely. She felt no jealousy, no hatred, towards + this young stranger, who, from her beauty, wealth, and delicacy, seemed to + belong to a sphere too splendid and elevated to be even within the reach + of a work, girl’s vision; but, making an involuntary comparison of + this fortunate condition with her own, the poor thing had never felt more + cruelly her deformity and poverty. Yet such were the humility and gentle + resignation of this noble creature, that the only thing which made her + feel ill-disposed towards Adrienne de Cardoville was the offer of the + purse to Agricola; but then the charming way in which the young lady had + atoned for her error, affected the sempstress deeply. Yet her heart was + ready to break. She could not restrain her tears as she contemplated the + magnificent flower—so rich in color and perfume, which, given by a + charming hand, was doubtless very precious to Agricola. + </p> + <p> + “Now, mother,” resumed the young man smilingly, and unaware of + the painful emotion of the other bystander, “you have had the cream + of my adventures first. I have told you one of the causes of my delay; and + now for the other. Just now, as I was coming in, I met the dyer at the + foot of the stairs, his arms a beautiful pea-green. Stopping me he said, + with an air full of importance, that he thought he had seen a chap + sneaking about the house like a spy, ‘Well, what is that to you, + Daddy Loriot?’ said I: ‘are you afraid he will nose out the + way to make the beautiful green, with which you are dyed up to the very + elbows?’” + </p> + <p> + “But who could that man be, Agricola?” said Frances. + </p> + <p> + “On my word, mother, I don’t know and scarcely care; I tried + to persuade Daddy Loriot, who chatters like a magpie, to return to his + cellar, since it could signify as little to him as to me, whether a spy + watched him or not.” So saying, Agricola went and placed the little + leathern sack, containing his wages, on a shelf, in the cupboard. + </p> + <p> + As Frances put down the saucepan on the end of the table, Mother Bunch, + recovering from her reverie, filled a basin with water, and, taking it to + the blacksmith, said to him in a gentle tone-“Agricola—for + your hands.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you, little sister. How kind you are!” Then with a most + unaffected gesture and tone, he added, “There is my fine flower for + your trouble.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you give it me?” cried the sempstress, with emotion, while + a vivid blush colored her pale and interesting face. “Do you give me + this handsome flower, which a lovely rich young lady so kindly and + graciously gave you?” And the poor thing repeated, with growing + astonishment, “Do you give it to me?” + </p> + <p> + “What the deuce should I do with it? Wear it on my heart, have it + set as a pin?” said Agricola, smiling. “It is true I was very + much impressed by the charming way in which the young lady thanked me. I + am delighted to think I found her little dog, and very happy to be able to + give you this flower, since it pleases you. You see the day has been a + happy one.” + </p> + <p> + While Mother Bunch, trembling with pleasure, emotion, and surprise, took + the flower, the young blacksmith washed his hands, so black with smoke and + steel filings that the water became dark in an instant. Agricola, pointing + out this change to the sempstress, said to her in a whisper, laughing,-“Here’s + cheap ink for us paper-stainers! I finished some verses yesterday, which I + am rather satisfied with. I will read them to you.” + </p> + <p> + With this, Agricola wiped his hands naturally on the front of his blouse, + while Mother Bunch replaced the basin on the chest of drawers, and laid + the flower against the side of it. + </p> + <p> + “Can’t you ask for a towel,” said Frances, shrugging her + shoulders, “instead of wiping your hands on your blouse?” + </p> + <p> + “After being scorched all day long at the forge, it will be all the + better for a little cooling to-night, won’t it? Am I disobedient, + mother? Scold me, then, if you dare! Come, let us see you.” + </p> + <p> + Frances made no reply; but, placing her hands on either side of her son’s + head, so beautiful in its candor, resolution and intelligence, she + surveyed him for a moment with maternal pride, and kissed him repeatedly + on the forehead. + </p> + <p> + “Come,” said she, “sit down: you stand all day at your + forge, and it is late.” + </p> + <p> + “So,—your arm-chair again!” said Agricola.—“Our + usual quarrel every evening—take it away, I shall be quite as much + at ease on another.” + </p> + <p> + “No, no! You ought at least to rest after your hard toil.” + </p> + <p> + “What tyranny!” said Agricola gayly, sitting down. “Well, + I preach like a good apostle; but I am quite at ease in your arm-chair, + after all. Since I sat down on the throne in the Tuileries, I have never + had a better seat.” + </p> + <p> + Frances Baudoin, standing on one side of the table, cut a slice of bread + for her son, while Mother Bunch, on the other, filled his silver mug. + There was something affecting in the attentive eagerness of the two + excellent creatures, for him whom they loved so tenderly. + </p> + <p> + “Won’t you sup with me?” said Agricola to the girl. + </p> + <p> + “Thank you, Agricola,” replied the sempstress, looking down, + “I have only just dined.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I only ask you for form’s sake—you have your whims—we + can never prevail on you to eat with us—just like mother; she + prefers dining all alone; and in that way she deprives herself without my + knowing it.” + </p> + <p> + “Goodness, child! It is better for my health to dine early. Well, do + you find it nice?” + </p> + <p> + “Nice!—call it excellent! Stockfish and parsnips. Oh, I am + very fond of stockfish; I should have been born a Newfoundland fisherman.” + </p> + <p> + This worthy lad, on the contrary, was but poorly refreshed, after a hard + day’s toil, with this paltry stew,—a little burnt as it had + been, too, during his story; but he knew he pleased his mother by + observing the fast without complaining. He affected to enjoy his meal; and + the good woman accordingly observed with satisfaction: + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I see you like it, my dear boy; Friday and Saturday next we’ll + have some more.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you, mother,—only not two days together. One gets tired + of luxuries, you know! And now, let us talk of what we shall do to-morrow—Sunday. + We must be very merry, for the last few days you seem very sad, dear + mother, and I can’t make it out—I fancy you are not satisfied + with me.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, my dear child!—you—the pattern of—” + </p> + <p> + “Well, well! Prove to me that you are happy, then, by taking a + little amusement. Perhaps you will do us the honor of accompanying us, as + you did last time,” added Agricola, bowing to Mother Bunch. + </p> + <p> + The latter blushed and looked down; her face assumed an expression of + bitter grief, and she made no reply. + </p> + <p> + “I have the prayers to attend all day, you know, my dear child,” + said Frances to her son. + </p> + <p> + “Well, in the evening, then? I don’t propose the theatre; but + they say there is a conjurer to be seen whose tricks are very amusing. + </p> + <p> + “I am obliged to you, my son; but that is a kind of theatre.” + </p> + <p> + “Dear mother, this is unreasonable!” + </p> + <p> + “My dear child, do I ever hinder others from doing what they like?” + </p> + <p> + “True, dear mother; forgive me. Well, then, if it should be fine, we + will simply take a walk with Mother Bunch on the Boulevards. It is nearly + three months since she went out with us; and she never goes out without + us.” + </p> + <p> + “No, no; go alone, my child. Enjoy your Sunday, ‘tis little + enough.” + </p> + <p> + “You know very well, Agricola,” said the sempstress, blushing + up to the eyes, “that I ought not to go out with you and your mother + again.” + </p> + <p> + “Why not, madame? May I ask, without impropriety, the cause of this + refusal?” said Agricola gayly. + </p> + <p> + The poor girl smiled sadly, and replied, “Because I will not expose + you to a quarrel on my account, Agricola.” + </p> + <p> + “Forgive me,” said Agricola, in a tone of sincere grief, and + he struck his forehead vexedly. + </p> + <p> + To this Mother Bunch alluded sometimes, but very rarely, for she observed + punctilious discretion. The girl had gone out with Agricola and his + mother. Such occasions were, indeed, holidays for her. Many days and + nights had she toiled hard to procure a decent bonnet and shawl, that she + might not do discredit to her friends. The five or six days of holidays, + thus spent arm in arm with him whom she adored in secret, formed the sum + of her happy days. + </p> + <p> + Taking their last walk, a coarse, vulgar man elbowed her so rudely that + the poor girl could not refrain from a cry of terror, and the man retorted + it by saying,-“What are you rolling your hump in my way for, + stoopid?” + </p> + <p> + Agricola, like his father, had the patience which force and courage give + to the truly brave; but he was extremely quick when it became necessary to + avenge an insult. Irritated at the vulgarity of this man, Agricola left + his mother’s arm to inflict on the brute, who was of his own age, + size, and force, two vigorous blows, such as the powerful arm and huge + fist of a blacksmith never before inflicted on human face. The villain + attempted to return it, and Agricola repeated the correction, to the + amusement of the crowd, and the fellow slunk away amidst a deluge of + hisses. This adventure made Mother Bunch say she would not go out with + Agricola again, in order to save him any occasion of quarrel. We may + conceive the blacksmith’s regret at having thus unwittingly revived + the memory of this circumstance,—more painful, alas! for Mother + Bunch than Agricola could imagine, for she loved him passionately, and her + infirmity had been the cause of that quarrel. Notwithstanding his strength + and resolution, Agricola was childishly sensitive; and, thinking how + painful that thought must be to the poor girl, a large tear filled his + eyes, and, holding out his hands, he said, in a brotherly tone, “Forgive + my heedlessness! Come, kiss me.” And he gave her thin, pale cheeks + two hearty kisses. + </p> + <p> + The poor girl’s lips turned pale at this cordial caress; and her + heart beat so violently that she was obliged to lean against the corner of + the table. + </p> + <p> + “Come, you forgive me, do you not?” said Agricola. + </p> + <p> + “Yes! yes!” she said, trying to subdue her emotion; “but + the recollection of that quarrel pains me—I was so alarmed on your + account; if the crowd had sided with that man!” + </p> + <p> + “Alas!” said Frances, coming to the sewing-girl’s + relief, without knowing it, “I was never so afraid in all my life!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, mother,” rejoined Agricola, trying to change a + conversation which had now become disagreeable for the sempstress, “for + the wife of a horse grenadier of the Imperial Guard, you have not much + courage. Oh, my brave father; I can’t believe he is really coming! + The very thought turns me topsy-turvy!” + </p> + <p> + “Heaven grant he may come,” said Frances, with a sigh. + </p> + <p> + “God grant it, mother. He will grant it, I should think. Lord knows, + you have had masses enough said for his return.” + </p> + <p> + “Agricola, my child,” said Frances, interrupting her son, and + shaking her head sadly, “do not speak in that way. Besides, you are + talking of your father.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I’m in for it this evening. ‘Tis your turn now; + positively, I am growing stupid, or going crazy. Forgive me, mother! + forgive! That’s the only word I can get out to-night. You know that, + when I do let out on certain subjects, it is because I can’t help + it; for I know well the pain it gives you.” + </p> + <p> + “You do not offend me, my poor, dear, misguided boy.” + </p> + <p> + “It comes to the same thing; and there is nothing so bad as to + offend one’s mother; and, with respect to what I said about father’s + return, I do not see that we have any cause to doubt it.” + </p> + <p> + “But we have not heard from him for four months.” + </p> + <p> + “You know, mother, in his letter—that is, in the letter which + he dictated (for you remember that, with the candor of an old soldier, he + told us that, if he could read tolerably well, he could not write); well, + in that letter he said we were not to be anxious about him; that he + expected to be in Paris about the end of January, and would send us word, + three or four days before, by what road he expected to arrive, that I + might go and meet him.” + </p> + <p> + “True, my child; and February is come, and no news yet.” + </p> + <p> + “The greater reason why we should wait patiently. But I’ll + tell you more: I should not be surprised if our good Gabriel were to come + back about the same time. His last letter from America makes me hope so. + What pleasure, mother, should all the family be together!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes, my child! It would be a happy day for me.” + </p> + <p> + “And that day will soon come, trust me.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you remember your father, Agricola?” inquired Mother + Bunch. + </p> + <p> + “To tell the truth, I remember most his great grenadier’s + shako and moustache, which used to frighten me so, that nothing but the + red ribbon of his cross of honor, on the white facings of his uniform, and + the shining handle of his sabre, could pacify me; could it, mother? But + what is the matter? You are weeping!” + </p> + <p> + “Alas! poor Baudoin! What he must suffer at being separated from us + at his age—sixty and past! Alas! my child, my heart breaks, when I + think that he comes home only to change one kind of poverty for another.” + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean?” + </p> + <p> + “Alas! I earn nothing now.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, what’s become of me? Isn’t there a room here for + you and for him; and a table for you too? Only, my good mother, since we + are talking of domestic affairs,” added the blacksmith, imparting + increased tenderness to his tone, that he might not shock his mother, + “when he and Gabriel come home, you won’t want to have any + more masses said, and tapers burned for them, will you? Well, that saving + will enable father to have tobacco to smoke, and his bottle of wine every + day. Then, on Sundays, we will take a nice dinner at the eating-house.” + </p> + <p> + A knocking at the door disturbed Agricola. + </p> + <p> + “Come in,” said he. Instead of doing so, some one half-opened + the door, and, thrusting in an arm of a pea-green color, made signs to the + blacksmith. + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:65%;"> + <img src="images/10281m.jpg" alt="10281m " width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/10281.jpg"><i>Original</i></a> + </h5> + <p> + “‘Tis old Loriot, the pattern of dyers,” said Agricola; + “come in, Daddy, no ceremony.” + </p> + <p> + “Impossible, my lad; I am dripping with dye from head to foot; I + should cover missus’s floor with green.” + </p> + <p> + “So much the better. It will remind me of the fields I like so much.” + </p> + <p> + “Without joking, Agricola, I must speak to you immediately.” + </p> + <p> + “About the spy, eh? Oh, be easy; what’s he to us?” + </p> + <p> + “No; I think he’s gone; at any rate, the fog is so thick I can’t + see him. But that’s not it—come, come quickly! It is very + important,” said the dyer, with a mysterious look; “and only + concerns you.” + </p> + <p> + “Me, only?” said Agricola, with surprise. “What can it + be. + </p> + <p> + “Go and see, my child,” said Frances. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, mother; but the deuce take me if I can make it out.” + </p> + <p> + And the blacksmith left the room, leaving his mother with Mother Bunch. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0030" id="link2HCH0030"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXX. THE RETURN. + </h2> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">I</span>n five minutes + Agricola returned; his face was pale and agitated—his eyes glistened + with tears, and his hands trembled; but his countenance expressed + extraordinary happiness and emotion. He stood at the door for a moment, as + if too much affected to accost his mother. + </p> + <p> + Frances’s sight was so bad that she did not immediately perceive the + change her son’s countenance had undergone. + </p> + <p> + “Well, my child—what is it?” she inquired. + </p> + <p> + Before the blacksmith could reply, Mother Bunch, who had more discernment, + exclaimed: “Goodness, Agricola—how pale you are! Whatever is + the matter?” + </p> + <p> + “Mother,” said the artisan, hastening to Frances, without + replying to the sempstress,—“mother, expect news that will + astonish you; but promise me you will be calm.” + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean? How you tremble! Look at me! Mother Bunch was + right—you are quite pale.” + </p> + <p> + “My kind mother!” and Agricola, kneeling before Frances, took + both her hands in his—“you must—you do not know,—but—” + </p> + <p> + The blacksmith could not go on. Tears of joy interrupted his speech. + </p> + <p> + “You weep, my dear child! Your tears alarm me. ‘What is the + matter?—you terrify me!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no, I would not terrify you; on the contrary,” said + Agricola, drying his eyes—“you will be so happy. But, again, + you must try and command your feelings, for too much joy is as hurtful as + too much grief.” + </p> + <p> + “What?” + </p> + <p> + “Did I not say true, when I said he would come?” + </p> + <p> + “Father!” cried Frances. She rose from her seat; but her + surprise and emotion were so great that she put one hand to her heart to + still its beating, and then she felt her strength fail. Her son sustained + her, and assisted her to sit down. + </p> + <p> + Mother Bunch, till now, had stood discreetly apart, witnessing from a + distance the scene which completely engrossed Agricola and his mother. But + she now drew near timidly, thinking she might be useful; for Frances + changed color more and more. + </p> + <p> + “Come, courage, mother,” said the blacksmith; “now the + shock is over, you have only to enjoy the pleasure of seeing my father.” + </p> + <p> + “My poor man! after eighteen years’ absence. Oh, I cannot + believe it,” said Frances, bursting into tears. “Is it true? + Is it, indeed, true?” + </p> + <p> + “So true, that if you will promise me to keep as calm as you can, I + will tell you when you may see him.” + </p> + <p> + “Soon—may I not?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; soon.” + </p> + <p> + “But when will he arrive?” + </p> + <p> + “He may arrive any minute—to-morrow—perhaps to-day.” + </p> + <p> + “To-day!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, mother! Well, I must tell you all—he has arrived.” + </p> + <p> + “He—he is—” Frances could not articulate the word. + </p> + <p> + “He was downstairs just now. Before coming up, he sent the dyer to + apprise me that I might prepare you; for my brave father feared the + surprise might hurt you.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, heaven!” + </p> + <p> + “And now,” cried the blacksmith, in an accent of indescribable + joy—“he is there, waiting! Oh, mother! for the last ten + minutes I have scarcely been able to contain myself—my heart is + bursting with joy.” And running to the door, he threw it open. + </p> + <p> + Dagobert, holding Rose and Blanche by the hand, stood on the threshold. + Instead of rushing to her husband’s arms, Frances fell on her knees + in prayer. She thanked heaven with profound gratitude for hearing her + prayers, and thus accepting her offerings. During a second, the actors of + this scene stood silent and motionless. Agricola, by a sentiment of + respect and delicacy, which struggled violently with his affection, did + not dare to fall on his father’s neck. He waited with constrained + impatience till his mother had finished her prayer. + </p> + <p> + The soldier experienced the same feeling as the blacksmith; they + understood each other. The first glance exchanged by father and son + expressed their affection—their veneration for that excellent woman, + who in the fulness of her religious fervor, forgot, perhaps, too much the + creature for the Creator. + </p> + <p> + Rose and Blanche, confused and affected, looked with interest on the + kneeling woman; while Mother Bunch, shedding in silence tears of joy at + the thought of Agricola’s happiness, withdrew into the most obscure + corner of the room, feeling that she was a stranger, and necessarily out + of place in that family meeting. Frances rose, and took a step towards her + husband, who received her in his arms. There was a moment of solemn + silence. Dagobert and Frances said not a word. Nothing could be heard but + a few sighs, mingled with sighs of joy. And, when the aged couple looked + up, their expression was calm, radiant, serene; for the full and complete + enjoyment of simple and pure sentiments never leaves behind a feverish and + violent agitation. + </p> + <p> + “My children,” said the soldier, in tones of emotion, + presenting the orphans to Frances, who, after her first agitation, had + surveyed them with astonishment, “this is my good and worthy wife; + she will be to the daughters of General Simon what I have been to them.” + </p> + <p> + “Then, madame, you will treat us as your children,” said Rose, + approaching Frances with her sister. + </p> + <p> + “The daughters of General Simon!” cried Dagobert’s wife, + more and more astonished. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, my dear Frances; I have brought them from afar not without + some difficulty; but I will tell you that by and by.” + </p> + <p> + “Poor little things! One would take them for two angels, exactly + alike!” said Frances, contemplating the orphans with as much + interest as admiration. + </p> + <p> + “Now—for us,” cried Dagobert, turning to his son. + </p> + <p> + “At last,” rejoined the latter. + </p> + <p> + We must renounce all attempts to describe the wild joy of Dagobert and his + son, and the crushing grip of their hands, which Dagobert interrupted only + to look in Agricola’s face; while he rested his hands on the young + blacksmith’s broad shoulders that he might see to more advantage his + frank masculine countenance, and robust frame. Then he shook his hand + again, exclaiming, “He’s a fine fellow—well built—what + a good-hearted look he has!” + </p> + <p> + From a corner of the room Mother Bunch enjoyed Agricola’s happiness; + but she feared that her presence, till then unheeded, would be an + intrusion. She wished to withdraw unnoticed, but could not do so. Dagobert + and his son were between her and the door; and she stood unable to take + her eyes from the charming faces of Rose and Blanche. She had never seen + anything so winsome; and the extraordinary resemblance of the sisters + increased her surprise. Then, their humble mourning revealing that they + were poor, Mother Bunch involuntarily felt more sympathy towards them. + </p> + <p> + “Dear children! They are cold; their little hands are frozen, and, + unfortunately, the fire is out,” said Frances, She tried to warm the + orphans’ hands in hers, while Dagobert and his son gave themselves + up to the feelings of affection, so long restrained. + </p> + <p> + As soon as Frances said that the fire was out, Mother Bunch hastened to + make herself useful, as an excuse for her presence; and, going to the + cupboard, where the charcoal and wood were kept, she took some small + pieces, and, kneeling before the stove, succeeded, by the aid of a few + embers that remained, in relighting the fire, which soon began to draw and + blaze. Filling a coffee-pot with water, she placed it on the stove, + presuming that the orphans required some warm drink. The sempstress did + all this with so much dexterity and so little noise—she was + naturally so forgotten amidst the emotions of the scene—that + Frances, entirely occupied with Rose and Blanche, only perceived the fire + when she felt its warmth diffusing round, and heard the boiling water + singing in the coffee-pot. This phenomenon—fire rekindling of itself—did + not astonish Dagobert’s wife then, so wholly was she taken up in + devising how she could lodge the maidens; for Dagobert as we have seen, + had not given her notice of their arrival. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly a loud bark was heard three or four times at the door. + </p> + <p> + “Hallo! there’s Spoil-sport,” said Dagobert, letting in + his dog; “he wants to come in to brush acquaintance with the family + too.” + </p> + <p> + The dog came in with a bound, and in a second was quite at home. After + having rubbed Dagobert’s hand with his muzzle, he went in turns to + greet Rose and Blanche, and also Frances and Agricola; but seeing that + they took but little notice of him, he perceived Mother Bunch, who stood + apart, in an obscure corner of the room, and carrying out the popular + saying, “the friends of our friends are our friends,” he went + and licked the hands of the young workwoman, who was just then forgotten + by all. By a singular impulse, this action affected the girl to tears; she + patted her long, thin, white hand several times on the head of the + intelligent dog. Then, finding that she could be no longer useful (for she + had done all the little services she deemed in her power), she took the + handsome flower Agricola had given her, opened the door gently, and went + away so discreetly that no one noticed her departure. After this exchange + of mutual affection, Dagobert, his wife, and son, began to think of the + realities of life. + </p> + <p> + “Poor Frances,” said the soldier, glancing at Rose and + Blanche, “you did not expect such a pretty surprise!” + </p> + <p> + “I am only sorry, my friend,” replied Frances, “that the + daughters of General Simon will not have a better lodging than this poor + room; for with Agricola’s garret—” + </p> + <p> + “It composes our mansion,” interrupted Dagobert; “there + are handsomer, it must be confessed. But be at ease; these young ladies + are drilled into not being hard to suit on that score. To-morrow, I and my + boy will go arm and arm, and I’ll answer for it he won’t walk + the more upright and straight of the two, and find out General Simon’s + father, at M. Hardy’s factory, to talk about business.” + </p> + <p> + “To-morrow,” said Agricola to Dagobert, “you will not + find at the factory either M. Hardy or Marshall Simon’s father.” + </p> + <p> + “What is that you say, my lad?” cried Dagobert, hastily, + “the Marshal!” + </p> + <p> + “To be sure; since 1830, General Simon’s friends have secured + him the title and rank which the emperor gave him at the battle of Ligny.” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed!” cried Dagobert, with emotion, “but that ought + not to surprise me; for, after all, it is just; and when the emperor said + a thing, the least they can do is to let it abide. But it goes all the + same to my heart; it makes me jump again.” + </p> + <p> + Addressing the sisters, he said: “Do you hear that, my children? You + arrive in Paris the daughters of a Duke and Marshal of France. One would + hardly think it, indeed, to see you in this room, my poor little + duchesses! But patience; all will go well. Ah, father Simon must have been + very glad to hear that his son was restored to his rank! eh, my lad?” + </p> + <p> + “He told us he would renounce all kinds of ranks and titles to see + his son again; for it was during the general’s absence that his + friends obtained this act of justice. But they expect Marshal Simon every + moment, for the last letter from India announced his departure.” + </p> + <p> + At these words Rose and Blanche looked at each other; and their eyes + filled with tears. + </p> + <p> + “Heaven be praised! These children rely on his return; but why shall + we not find M. Hardy and father Simon at the factory to-morrow?” + </p> + <p> + “Ten days ago, they went to examine and study an English mill + established in the south; but we expect them back every day.” + </p> + <p> + “The deuce! that’s vexing; I relied on seeing the general’s + father, to talk over some important matters with him. At any rate, they + know where to write to him. So to-morrow you will let him know, my lad, + that his granddaughters are arrived. In the mean time, children,” + added the soldier, to Rose and Blanche, “my good wife will give you + her bed and you must put up with the chances of war. Poor things! they + will not be worse off here than they were on the journey.” + </p> + <p> + “You know we shall always be well off with you and madame,” + said Rose. + </p> + <p> + “Besides, we only think of the pleasure of being at length in Paris, + since here we are to find our father,” added Blanche. + </p> + <p> + “That hope gives you patience, I know,” said Dagobert, “but + no matter! After all you have heard about it, you ought to be finely + surprised, my children. As yet, you have not found it the golden city of + your dreams, by any means. But, patience, patience; you’ll find + Paris not so bad as it looks.” + </p> + <p> + “Besides,” said Agricola, “I am sure the arrival of + Marshal Simon in Paris will change it for you into a golden city.” + </p> + <p> + “You are right, Agricola,” said Rose, with a smile, “you + have, indeed, guessed us.” + </p> + <p> + “What! do you know my name?” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly, Agricola, we often talked about you with Dagobert; and + latterly, too, with Gabriel,” added Blanche. + </p> + <p> + “Gabriel!” cried Agricola and his mother, at the same time. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” replied Dagobert, making a sign of intelligence to the + orphans, “we have lots to tell you for a fortnight to come; and + among other things, how we chanced to meet with Gabriel. All I can now say + is that, in his way, he is quite as good as my boy (I shall never be tired + of saying ‘my boy’); and they ought to love each other like + brothers. Oh, my brave, brave wife!” said Dagobert, with emotion, + “you did a good thing, poor as you were, taking the unfortunate + child—and bringing him up with your own.” + </p> + <p> + “Don’t talk so much about it, my dear; it was such a simple + thing.” + </p> + <p> + “You are right; but I’ll make you amends for it by and by. + ‘Tis down to your account; in the mean time, you will be sure to see + him to-morrow morning.” + </p> + <p> + “My dear brother arrived too!” cried the blacksmith; “who’ll + say, after this, that there are not days set apart for happiness? How came + you to meet him, father?” + </p> + <p> + “I’ll tell you all, by and by, about when and how we met + Gabriel; for if you expect to sleep, you are mistaken. You’ll give + me half your room, and a fine chat we’ll have. Spoil-sport will stay + outside of this door; he is accustomed to sleep at the children’s + door.” + </p> + <p> + “Dear me, love, I think of nothing. But, at such a moment, if you + and the young ladies wish to sup, Agricola will fetch something from the + cook-shop.” + </p> + <p> + “What do you say, children?” + </p> + <p> + “No, thank you, Dagobert, we are not hungry; we are too happy.” + </p> + <p> + “You will take a little wine and water, sweetened, nice and hot, to + warm you a little, my dear young ladies,” said Frances; “unfortunately, + I have nothing else to offer you.” + </p> + <p> + “You are right, Frances; the dear children are tired, and want to go + to bed; while they do so, I’ll go to my boy’s room, and, + before Rose and Blanche are awake, I will come down and converse with you, + just to give Agricola a respite.” + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:65%;"> + <img src="images/10289m.jpg" alt="10289m " width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/10289.jpg"><i>Original</i></a> + </h5> + <p> + A knock was now heard at the door. + </p> + <p> + “It is good Mother Bunch come to see if we want her,” said + Agricola. + </p> + <p> + “But I think she was here when my husband came in,” added + Frances. + </p> + <p> + “Right, mother; and the good girl left lest she should be an + intruder: she is so thoughtful. But no—no—it is not she who + knocks so loud.” + </p> + <p> + “Go and see who it is, then, Agricola.” + </p> + <p> + Before the blacksmith could reach the door, a man decently dressed, with a + respectable air, entered the room, and glanced rapidly round, looking for + a moment at Rose and Blanche. + </p> + <p> + “Allow me to observe, sir,” said Agricola, “that after + knocking, you might have waited till the door was opened, before you + entered. Pray, what is your business?” + </p> + <p> + “Pray excuse me, sir,” said the man, very politely, and + speaking slowly, perhaps to prolong his stay in the room: “I beg a + thousand pardons—I regret my intrusion—I am ashamed—” + </p> + <p> + “Well, you ought to be, sir,” said Agricola, with impatience, + “what do you want?” + </p> + <p> + “Pray, sir, does not Miss Soliveau, a deformed needlewoman, live + here?” + </p> + <p> + “No, sir; upstairs,” said Agricola. + </p> + <p> + “Really, sir,” cried the polite man, with low bows, “I + am quite abroad at my blunder: I thought this was the room of that young + person. I brought her proposals for work from a very respectable party.” + </p> + <p> + “It is very late, sir,” said Agricola, with surprise. “But + that young person is as one of our family. Call to-morrow; you cannot see + her to night; she is gone to bed.” + </p> + <p> + “Then, sir, I again beg you to excuse—” + </p> + <p> + “Enough, sir,” said Agricola, taking a step towards the door. + </p> + <p> + “I hope, madame and the young ladies, as well as this gent, will be + assured that—” + </p> + <p> + “If you go on much longer making excuses, sir, you will have to + excuse the length of your excuses; and it is time this came to an end!” + </p> + <p> + Rose and Blanche smiled at these words of Agricola; while Dagobert rubbed + his moustache with pride. + </p> + <p> + “What wit the boy has!” said he aside to his wife. “But + that does not astonish you—you are used to it.” + </p> + <p> + During this speech, the ceremonious person withdrew, having again directed + a long inquiring glance to the sisters, and to Agricola and Dagobert. + </p> + <p> + In a few minutes after, Frances having spread a mattress on the ground for + herself, and put the whitest sheets on her bed for the orphans, assisted + them to undress with maternal solicitude, Dagobert and Agricola having + previously withdrawn to their garret. Just as the blacksmith, who preceded + his father with a light, passed before the door of Mother Bunch’s + room, the latter, half concealed in the shade, said to him rapidly, in a + low tone: + </p> + <p> + “Agricola, great danger threatens you: I must speak to you.” + </p> + <p> + These words were uttered in so hasty and low a voice that Dagobert did not + hear them; but as Agricola stopped suddenly, with a start, the old soldier + said to him, + </p> + <p> + “Well, boy, what is it?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing, father,” said the blacksmith, turning round; “I + feared I did not light you well.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, stand at ease about that; I have the legs and eyes of fifteen + to night;” and the soldier, not noticing his son’s surprise, + went into the little room where they were both to pass the night. + </p> + <p> + On leaving the house, after his inquiries about Mother Bunch, the over + polite Paul Pry slunk along to the end of Brise-Miche Street. He advanced + towards a hackney-coach drawn up on the Cloitre Saint-Merry Square. + </p> + <p> + In this carriage lounged Rodin, wrapped in a cloak. + </p> + <p> + “Well?” said he, in an inquiring tone. + </p> + <p> + “The two girls and the man with gray moustache went directly to + Frances Baudoin’s; by listening at the door, I learnt that the + sisters will sleep with her, in that room, to-night; the old man with gray + moustache will share the young blacksmith’s room.” + </p> + <p> + “Very well,” said Rodin. + </p> + <p> + “I did not dare insist on seeing the deformed workwoman this evening + on the subject of the Bacchanal Queen; I intend returning to-morrow, to + learn the effect of the letter she must have received this evening by the + post about the young blacksmith.” + </p> + <p> + “Do not fail! And now you will call, for me, on Frances Baudoin’s + confessor, late as it is; you will tell him that I am waiting for him at + Rue du Milieu des Ursins—he must not lose a moment. Do you come with + him. Should I not be returned, he will wait for me. You will tell him it + is on a matter of great moment.” + </p> + <p> + “All shall be faithfully executed,” said the ceremonious man, + cringing to Rodin, as the coach drove quickly away. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0031" id="link2HCH0031"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXXI. AGRICOLA AND MOTHER BUNCH. + </h2> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">W</span>ithin one hour + after the different scenes which have just been described the most + profound silence reigned in the soldier’s humble dwelling. A + flickering light, which played through two panes of glass in a door, + betrayed that Mother Bunch had not yet gone to sleep; for her gloomy + recess, without air or light, was impenetrable to the rays of day, except + by this door, opening upon a narrow and obscure passage, connected with + the roof. A sorry bed, a table, an old portmanteau, and a chair, so nearly + filled this chilling abode, that two persons could not possibly be seated + within it, unless one of them sat upon the side of the bed. + </p> + <p> + The magnificent and precious flower that Agricola had given to the girl + was carefully stood up in a vessel of water, placed upon the table on a + linen cloth, diffusing its sweet odor around, and expanding its purple + calix in the very closet, whose plastered walls, gray and damp, were + feebly lighted by the rays of an attenuated candle. The sempstress, who + had taken off no part of her dress, was seated upon her bed—her + looks were downcast, and her eyes full of tears. She supported herself + with one hand resting on the bolster; and, inclining towards the door, + listened with painful eagerness, every instant hoping to hear the + footsteps of Agricola. The heart of the young sempstress beat violently; + her face, usually very pale, was now partially flushed—so exciting + was the emotion by which she was agitated. Sometimes she cast her eyes + with terror upon a letter which she held in her hand, a letter that had + been delivered by post in the course of the evening, and which had been + placed by the housekeeper (the dyer) upon the table, while she was + rendering some trivial domestic services during the recognitions of + Dagobert and his family. + </p> + <p> + After some seconds, Mother Bunch heard a door, very near her own, softly + opened. + </p> + <p> + “There he is at last!” she exclaimed, and Agricola immediately + entered. + </p> + <p> + “I waited till my father went to sleep,” said the blacksmith, + in a low voice, his physiognomy evincing much more curiosity than + uneasiness. “But what is the matter, my good sister? How your + countenance is changed! You weep! What has happened? About what danger + would you speak to me?” + </p> + <p> + “Hush! Read this!” said she, her voice trembling with emotion, + while she hastily presented to him the open letter. Agricola held it + towards the light, and read what follows: + </p> + <p> + “A person who has reasons for concealing himself, but who knows the + sisterly interest you take in the welfare of Agricola Baudoin, warns you. + That young and worthy workman will probably be arrested in the course of + to-morrow.” + </p> + <p> + “I!” exclaimed Agricola, looking at Mother Bunch with an air + of stupefied amazement. “What is the meaning of all this?” + </p> + <p> + “Read on!” quickly replied the sempstress, clasping her hands. + </p> + <p> + Agricola resumed reading, scarcely believing the evidence of his eyes:-“The + song, entitled ‘Working-men Freed,’ has been declared + libellous. Numerous copies of it have been found among the papers of a + secret society, the leaders of which are about to be incarcerated, as + being concerned in the Rue des Prouvaires conspiracy.” + </p> + <p> + “Alas!” said the girl, melting into tears, “now I see it + all. The man who was lurking about below, this evening, who was observed + by the dyer, was, doubtless, a spy, lying in wait for you coming home.” + </p> + <p> + “Nonsense!” exclaimed Agricola. “This accusation is + quite ridiculous! Do not torment yourself. I never trouble myself with + politics. My verses breathe nothing but philanthropy. Am I to blame, if + they have been found among the papers of a secret society?” Agricola + disdainfully threw the letter upon the table. + </p> + <p> + “Read! pray read!” said the other; “read on.” + </p> + <p> + “If you wish it,” said Agricola, “I will; no time is + lost.” + </p> + <p> + He resumed the reading of the letter: + </p> + <p> + “A warrant is about to be issued against Agricola Baudoin. There is + mo doubt of his innocence being sooner or later made clear; but it will be + well if he screen himself for a time as much as possible from pursuit, in + order that he may escape a confinement of two or three months previous to + trial—an imprisonment which would be a terrible blow for his mother, + whose sole support he is. + </p> + <p> + “A SINCERE FRIEND, who is compelled to remain unknown.” + </p> + <p> + After a moment’s silence, the blacksmith raised his head; his + countenance resumed its serenity; and laughing, he said: “Reassure + yourself, good Mother Bunch, these jokers have made a mistake by trying + their games on me. It is plainly an attempt at making an April-fool of me + before the time.” + </p> + <p> + “Agricola, for the love of heaven!” said the girl, in a + supplicating tone; “treat not the warning thus lightly. Believe in + my forebodings, and listen to my advice.” + </p> + <p> + “I tell you again, my good girl,” replied Agricola, “that + it is two months since my song was published. It is not in any way + political; indeed, if it were, they would not have waited till now before + coming down on me.” + </p> + <p> + “But,” said the other, “you forget that new events have + arisen. It is scarcely two days since the conspiracy was discovered, in + this very neighborhood, in the Rue des Prouvaires. And,” continued + she, “if the verses, though perhaps hitherto unnoticed, have now + been found in the possession of the persons apprehended for this + conspiracy, nothing more is necessary to compromise you in the plot.” + </p> + <p> + “Compromise me!” said Agricola; “my verses! in which I + only praise the love of labor and of goodness! To arrest me for that! If + so, justice would be but a blind noodle. That she might grope her way, it + would be necessary to furnish her with a dog and a pilgrim’s staff + to guide her steps.” + </p> + <p> + “Agricola,” resumed Mother Bunch; overwhelmed with anxiety and + terror on hearing the blacksmith jest at such a moment, “I conjure + you to listen to me! No doubt you uphold in the verses the sacred love of + labor; but you do also grievously deplore and deprecate the unjust lot of + the poor laborers, devoted as they are, without hope, to all the miseries + of life; you recommend, indeed, only fraternity among men; but your good + and noble heart vents its indignation, at the same time, against the + selfish and the wicked. In fine, you fervently hasten on, with the ardor + of your wishes, the emancipation of all the artisans who, less fortunate + than you, have not generous M. Hardy for employer. Say, Agricola, in these + times of trouble, is there anything more necessary to compromise you than + that numerous copies of your song have been found in possession of the + persons who have been apprehended?” + </p> + <p> + Agricola was moved by these affectionate and judicious expressions of an + excellent creature, who reasoned from her heart; and he began to view with + more seriousness the advice which she had given him. + </p> + <p> + Perceiving that she had shaken him, the sewing-girl went on to say: + “And then, bear your fellow-workman, Remi, in recollection.” + </p> + <p> + “Remi!” said Agricola, anxiously. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” resumed the sempstress; “a letter of his, a + letter in itself quite insignificant, was found in the house of a person + arrested last year for conspiracy; and Remi, in consequence, remained a + month in prison.” + </p> + <p> + “That is true, but the injustice of his implication was easily + shown, and he was set at liberty.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Agricola: but not till he had lain a month in prison; and that + has furnished the motive of the person who advised you to conceal + yourself! A month in prison! Good heavens! Agricola, think of that! and + your mother.” + </p> + <p> + These words made a powerful impression upon Agricola. He took up the + letter and again read it attentively. + </p> + <p> + “And the man who has been lurking all this evening about the house?” + proceeded she. “I constantly recall that circumstance, which cannot + be naturally accounted for. Alas! what a blow it would be for your father, + and poor mother, who is incapable of earning anything. Are you not now + their only resource? Oh! consider, then, what would become of them without + you—without your labor!” + </p> + <p> + “It would indeed be terrible,” said Agricola, impatiently + casting the letter upon the table. “What you have said concerning + Remi is too true. He was as innocent as I am: yet an error of justice, an + involuntary error though it be, is not the less cruel. But they don’t + commit a man without hearing him.” + </p> + <p> + “But they arrest him first, and hear him afterwards,” said + Mother Bunch, bitterly; “and then, after a month or two, they + restore him his liberty. And if he have a wife and children, whose only + means of living is his daily labor, what becomes of them while their only + supporter is in prison? They suffer hunger, they endure cold, and they + weep!” + </p> + <p> + At these simple and pathetic words, Agricola trembled. + </p> + <p> + “A month without work,” he said, with a sad and thoughtful + air. “And my mother, and father, and the two young ladies who make + part of our family until the arrival in Paris of their father, Marshal + Simon. Oh! you are right. That thought, in spite of myself, affrights me!” + </p> + <p> + “Agricola!” exclaimed the girl impetuously; “suppose you + apply to M. Hardy; he is so good, and his character is so much esteemed + and honored, that, if he offered bail for you, perhaps they would give up + their persecution?” + </p> + <p> + “Unfortunately,” replied Agricola, “M. Hardy is absent; + he is on a journey with Marshal Simon.” + </p> + <p> + After a silence of some time, Agricola, striving to surmount his fear, + added: “But no! I cannot give credence to this letter. After all, I + had rather await what may come. I’ll at least have the chance of + proving my innocence on my first examination: for indeed, my good sister, + whether it be that I am in prison or that I fly to conceal myself, my + working for my family will be equally prevented.” + </p> + <p> + “Alas! that is true,” said the poor girl; “what is to be + done! Oh, what is to be done?” + </p> + <p> + “My brave father,” said Agricola to himself, “if this + misfortune happen to-morrow, what an awakening it will be for him, who + came here to sleep so joyously!” The blacksmith buried his face in + his hands. + </p> + <p> + Unhappily Mother Bunch’s fears were too well-founded, for it will be + recollected that at that epoch of the year 1832, before and after the Rue + des Prouvaires conspiracy, a very great number of arrests had been made + among the working classes, in consequence of a violent reaction against + democratical ideas. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly, the girl broke the silence which had been maintained for some + seconds. A blush colored her features, which bore the impressions of an + indefinable expression of constraint, grief, and hope. + </p> + <p> + “Agricola, you are saved!” + </p> + <p> + “What say you?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “The young lady, so beautiful, so good, who gave you this flower” + (she showed it to the blacksmith) “who has known how to make + reparation with so much delicacy for having made a painful offer, cannot + but have a generous heart. You must apply to her—” + </p> + <p> + With these words which seemed to be wrung from her by a violent effort + over herself, great tears rolled down her cheeks. For the first time in + her life she experienced a feeling of grievous jealousy. Another woman was + so happy as to have the power of coming to the relief of him whom she + idolized; while she herself, poor creature, was powerless and wretched. + </p> + <p> + “Do you think so?” exclaimed Agricola surprised. “But + what could be done with this young lady?” + </p> + <p> + “Did she not say to you,” answered Mother Bunch, “‘Remember + my name; and in all circumstances address yourself to me?’” + </p> + <p> + “She did indeed!” replied Agricola. + </p> + <p> + “This young lady, in her exalted position, ought to have powerful + connections who will be able to protect and defend you. Go to her to + morrow morning; tell her frankly what has happened, and request her + support.” + </p> + <p> + “But tell me, my good sister, what it is you wish me to do?” + </p> + <p> + “Listen. I remember that, in former times, my father told us that he + had saved one of his friends from being put in prison, by becoming surety + for him. It will be easy for you so to convince this young lady of your + innocence, that she will be induced to become surety; and after that, you + will have nothing more to fear.” + </p> + <p> + “My poor child!” said Agricola, “to ask so great a + service from a person to whom one is almost unknown is hard.” + </p> + <p> + “Believe me, Agricola,” said the other sadly, “I would + never counsel what could possibly lower you in the eyes of any one, and + above all—do you understand?—above all, in the eyes of this + young lady. I do not propose that you should ask money from her; but only + that she should give surety for you, in order that you may have the + liberty of continuing at your employment, so that the family may not be + without resources. Believe me, Agricola, that such a request is in no + respect inconsistent with what is noble and becoming upon your part. The + heart of the young lady is generous. She will comprehend your position. + The required surety will be as nothing to her; while to you it will be + everything, and will even be the very life to those who depend upon you.” + </p> + <p> + “You are right, my good sister,” said Agricola, with sadness + and dejection. “It is perhaps worth while to risk taking this step. + If the young lady consent to render me this service, and if giving surety + will indeed preserve me from prison, I shall be prepared for every event. + But no, no!” added he, rising, “I’d never dare to make + the request to her! What right have I to do so? What is the insignificant + service that I rendered her, when compared with that which I should + solicit from her?” + </p> + <p> + “Do you imagine then, Agricola, that a generous spirit measures the + services which ought to be rendered, by those previously received? Trust + to me respecting a matter which is an affair of the heart. I am, it is + true, but a lowly creature, and ought not to compare myself with any other + person. I am nothing, and I can do nothing. Nevertheless, I am sure—yes, + Agricola, I am sure—that this young lady, who is so very far above + me, will experience the same feelings that I do in this affair; yes, like + me, she will at once comprehend that your position is a cruel one; and she + will do with joy, with happiness, with thankfulness, that which I would + do, if, alas! I could do anything more than uselessly consume myself with + regrets.” + </p> + <p> + In spite of herself, she pronounced the last words with an expression so + heart-breaking—there was something so moving in the comparison which + this unfortunate creature, obscure and disdained, infirm and miserable, + made of herself with Adrienne de Cardoville, the very type of resplendent + youth, beauty, and opulence—that Agricola was moved even to tears; + and, holding out one of his hands to the speaker, he said to her, + tenderly, “How very good you are; how full of nobleness, good + feeling, and delicacy!” + </p> + <p> + “Unhappily,” said the weeping girl, “I can do nothing + more than advise.” + </p> + <p> + “And your counsels shall be followed out, my sister dear. They are + those of a soul the most elevated I have ever known. Yes, you have won me + over into making this experiment, by persuading me that the heart of Miss + de Cardoville is perhaps equal in value to your own!” + </p> + <p> + At this charming and sincere assimilation of herself to Miss Adrienne, the + sempstress forgot almost everything she had suffered, so exquisitely sweet + and consoling were her emotions. If some poor creatures, fatally devoted + to sufferings, experience griefs of which the world knows naught, they + sometimes, too, are cheered by humble and timid joys, of which the world + is equally ignorant. The least word of true tenderness and affection, + which elevates them in their own estimation, is ineffably blissful for + these unfortunate beings, habitually consigned, not only to hardships and + to disdain, but even to desolating doubts, and distrust of themselves. + </p> + <p> + “Then it is agreed that you will go, to-morrow morning to this young + lady’s house?” exclaimed Mother Bunch, trembling with a + new-born hope. “And,” she quickly added, “at break of + day I’ll go down to watch at the street-door, to see if there be + anything suspicious, and to apprise you of what I perceive.” + </p> + <p> + “Good, excellent girl!” exclaimed Agricola, with increasing + emotion. + </p> + <p> + “It will be necessary to endeavor to set off before the wakening of + your father,” said the hunchback. “The quarter in which the + young lady dwells, is so deserted, that the mere going there will almost + serve for your present concealment.” + </p> + <p> + “I think I hear the voice of my father,” said Agricola + suddenly. + </p> + <p> + In truth, the little apartment was so near Agricola’s garret, that + he and the sempstress, listening, heard Dagobert say in the dark: + </p> + <p> + “Agricola, is it thus that you sleep, my boy? Why, my first sleep is + over; and my tongue itches deucedly.” + </p> + <p> + “Go quick, Agricola!” said Mother Bunch; “your absence + would disquiet him. On no account go out to-morrow morning, before I + inform you whether or not I shall have seen anything suspicious.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, Agricola, you are not here?” resumed Dagobert, in a + louder voice. + </p> + <p> + “Here I am, father,” said the smith, while going out of the + sempstress’s apartment, and entering the garret, to his father. + </p> + <p> + “I have been to fasten the shutter of a loft that the wind agitated, + lest its noise should disturb you.” + </p> + <p> + “Thanks, my boy; but it is not noise that wakes me,” said + Dagobert, gayly; “it is an appetite, quite furious, for a chat with + you. Oh, my dear boy, it is the hungering of a proud old man of a father, + who has not seen his son for eighteen years.” + </p> + <p> + “Shall I light a candle, father?” + </p> + <p> + “No, no; that would be luxurious; let us chat in the dark. It will + be a new pleasure for me to see you to-morrow morning at daybreak. It will + be like seeing you for the first time twice.” The door of Agricola’s + garret being now closed, Mother Bunch heard nothing more. + </p> + <p> + The poor girl, without undressing, threw herself upon the bed, and closed + not an eye during the night, painfully awaiting the appearance of day, in + order that she might watch over the safety of Agricola. However, in spite + of her vivid anxieties for the morrow, she sometimes allowed herself to + sink into the reveries of a bitter melancholy. She compared the + conversation she had just had in the silence of night, with the man whom + she secretly adored, with what that conversation might have been, had she + possessed some share of charms and beauty—had she been loved as she + loved, with a chaste and devoted flame! But soon sinking into belief that + she should never know the ravishing sweets of a mutual passion, she found + consolation in the hope of being useful to Agricola. At the dawn of day, + she rose softly, and descended the staircase with little noise, in order + to see if anything menaced Agricola from without. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0032" id="link2HCH0032"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXXII. THE AWAKENING. + </h2> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>he weather, damp + and foggy during a portion of the night, became clear and cold towards + morning. Through the glazed skylight of Agricola’s garret, where he + lay with his father, a corner of the blue sky could be seen. + </p> + <p> + The apartment of the young blacksmith had an aspect as poor as the + sewing-girl’s. For its sole ornament, over the deal table upon which + Agricola wrote his poetical inspirations, there hung suspended from a nail + in the wall a portrait of Beranger—that immortal poet whom the + people revere and cherish, because his rare and transcendent genius has + delighted to enlighten the people, and to sing their glories and their + reverses. + </p> + <p> + Although the day had only begun to dawn, Dagobert and Agricola had already + risen. The latter had sufficient self command to conceal his inquietude, + for renewed reflection had again increased his fears. + </p> + <p> + The recent outbreak in the Rue des Prouvaires had caused a great number of + precautionary arrests; and the discovery of numerous copies of Agricola’s + song, in the possession of one of the chiefs of the disconcerted plot, + was, in truth, calculated slightly to compromise the young blacksmith. His + father, however, as we have already mentioned, suspected not his secret + anguish. Seated by the side of his son, upon the edge of their mean little + bed, the old soldier, by break of day, had dressed and shaved with + military care; he now held between his hands both those of Agricola, his + countenance radiant with joy, and unable to discontinue the contemplation + of his boy. + </p> + <p> + “You will laugh at me, my dear boy,” said Dagobert to his son; + “but I wished the night to the devil, in order that I might gaze + upon you in full day, as I now see you. But all in good time; I have lost + nothing. Here is another silliness of mine; it delights me to see you wear + moustaches. What a splendid horse-grenadier you would have made! Tell me; + have you never had a wish to be a soldier?” + </p> + <p> + “I thought of mother!” + </p> + <p> + “That’s right,” said Dagobert: “and besides, I + believe, after all, look ye, that the time of the sword has gone by. We + old fellows are now good for nothing, but to be put in a corner of the + chimney. Like rusty old carbines, we have had our day.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; your days of heroism and of glory,” said Agricola with + excitement; and then he added, with a voice profoundly softened and + agitated, “it is something good and cheering to be your son!” + </p> + <p> + “As to the good, I know nothing of that,” replied Dagobert; + “but as for the cheering, it ought to be so; for I love you proudly. + And I think this is but the beginning! What say you, Agricola? I am like + the famished wretches who have been some days without food. It is but by + little and little that they recover themselves, and can eat. Now, you may + expect to be tasted, my boy, morning and evening, and devoured during the + day. No, I wish not to think that—not all the day—no, that + thought dazzles and perplexes me; and I am no longer myself.” + </p> + <p> + These words of Dagobert caused a painful feeling to Agricola. He believed + that they sprang from a presentiment of the separation with which he was + menaced. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” continued Dagobert; “you are quite happy; M. + Hardy is always good to you.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” replied Agricola: “there is none in the world + better, or more equitable and generous! If you knew what wonders he has + brought about in his factory! Compared to all others, it is a paradise + beside the stithies of Lucifer!” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed!” said Dagobert. + </p> + <p> + “You shall see,” resumed Agricola, “what welfare, what + joy, what affection, are displayed upon the countenances of all whom he + employs; who work with an ardent pleasure. + </p> + <p> + “This M. Hardy of yours must be an out-and-out magician,” said + Dagobert. + </p> + <p> + “He is, father, a very great magician. He has known how to render + labor pleasant and attractive. As for the pleasure, over and above good + wages, he accords to us a portion of his profits according to our deserts; + whence you may judge of the eagerness with which we go to work. And that + is not all: he has caused large, handsome buildings to be erected, in + which all his workpeople find, at less expense than elsewhere, cheerful + and salubrious lodgings, in which they enjoy all the advantages of an + association. But you shall see—I repeat—you shall see!” + </p> + <p> + “They have good reason to say, that Paris is the region of wonders,” + observed Dagobert. + </p> + <p> + “Well, behold me here again at last, never more to quit you, nor + good mother!” + </p> + <p> + “No, father, we will never separate again,” said Agricola, + stifling a sigh. “My mother and I will both try to make you forget + all that you have suffered.” + </p> + <p> + “Suffered!” exclaimed Dagobert, “who the deuce has + suffered? Look me well in the face; and see if I have a look of suffering! + Bombs and bayonets! Since I have put my foot here, I feel myself quite a + young man again! You shall see me march soon: I bet that I tire you out! + You must rig yourself up something extra! Lord, how they will stare at us! + I wager that in beholding your black moustache and my gray one, folks will + say, behold father and son! But let us settle what we are to do with the + day. You will write to the father of Marshal Simon, informing him the his + grand-daughters have arrived, and that it is necessary that he should + hasten his return to Paris; for he has charged himself with matters which + are of great importance for them. While you are writing, I will go down to + say good-morning to my wife, and to the dear little ones. We will then eat + a morsel. Your mother will go to mass; for I perceive that she likes to be + regular at that: the good soul! no great harm, if it amuse her! and during + her absence, we will make a raid together.” + </p> + <p> + “Father,” said Agricola, with embarrassment, “this + morning it is out of my power to accompany you.” + </p> + <p> + “How! out of your power?” said Dagobert; “recollect this + is Monday!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, father,” said Agricola, hesitatingly; “but I have + promised to attend all the morning in the workshop, to finish a job that + is required in a hurry. If I fail to do so, I shall inflict some injury + upon M. Hardy. But I’ll soon be at liberty.” + </p> + <p> + “That alters the case,” said Dagobert, with a sigh of regret. + “I thought to make my first parade through Paris with you this + morning; but it must be deferred in favor of your work. It is sacred: + since it is that which sustains your mother. Nevertheless, it is + vexatious, devilish vexatious. And yet no—I am unjust. See how + quickly one gets habituated to and spoilt by happiness. I growl like a + true grumbler, at a walk being put off for a few hours! I do this! I who, + during eighteen years, have only hoped to see you once more, without + daring to reckon very much upon it! Oh! I am but a silly old fool! Vive l’amour + et cogni—I mean—my Agricola!” And, to console himself, + the old soldier gayly slapped his son’s shoulder. + </p> + <p> + This seemed another omen of evil to the blacksmith; for he dreaded one + moment to another lest the fears of Mother Bunch should be realized. + “Now that I have recovered myself,” said Dagobert, laughing, + “let us speak of business. Know you where I find the addresses of + all the notaries in Paris?” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t know; but nothing is more easy than to discover it.” + </p> + <p> + “My reason is,” resumed Dagobert, “that I sent from + Russia by post, and by order of the mother of the two children that I have + brought here, some important papers to a Parisian notary. As it was my + duty to see this notary immediately upon my arrival, I had written his + name and his address in a portfolio, of which however, I have been robbed + during my journey; and as I have forgotten his devil of a name, it seems + to me, that if I should see it again in the list of notaries, I might + recollect it.” + </p> + <p> + Two knocks at the door of the garret made Agricola start. He involuntarily + thought of a warrant for his apprehension. + </p> + <p> + His father, who, at the sound of the knocking turned round his head, had + not perceived his emotion, and said with a loud voice: “Come in!” + The door opened. It was Gabriel. He wore a black cassock and a broad + brimmed hat. + </p> + <p> + To recognize his brother by adoption, and to throw himself into his arms, + were two movements performed at once by Agricola—as quick as + thought.—“My brother!” exclaimed Agricola. + </p> + <p> + “Agricola!” cried Gabriel. + </p> + <p> + “Gabriel!” responded the blacksmith. + </p> + <p> + “After so long an absence!” said the one. + </p> + <p> + “To behold you again!” rejoined the other. + </p> + <p> + Such were the words exchanged between the blacksmith and the missionary, + while they were locked in a close embrace. + </p> + <p> + Dagobert, moved and charmed by these fraternal endearments, felt his eyes + become moist. There was something truly touching in the affection of the + young men—in their hearts so much alike, and yet of characters and + aspects so very different—for the manly countenance of Agricola + contrasted strongly with the delicacy and angelic physiognomy of Gabriel. + </p> + <p> + “I was forewarned by my father of your arrival,” said the + blacksmith at length. “I have been expecting to see you; and my + happiness has been a hundred times the greater, because I have had all the + pleasures of hoping for it.” + </p> + <p> + “And my good mother?” asked Gabriel, in affectionately + grasping the hands of Dagobert. “I trust that you have found her in + good health.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, my brave boy!” replied Dagobert; “and her health + will have become a hundred times better, now that we are all together. + Nothing is so healthful as joy.” Then addressing himself to + Agricola, who, forgetting his fear of being arrested, regarded the + missionary with an expression of ineffable affection, Dagobert added: + </p> + <p> + “Let it be remembered, that, with the soft cheek of a young girl, + Gabriel has the courage of a lion; I have already told with what + intrepidity he saved the lives of Marshal Simon’s daughters, and + tried to save mine also.” + </p> + <p> + “But, Gabriel! what has happened to your forehead?” suddenly + exclaimed Agricola, who for a few seconds had been attentively examining + the missionary. + </p> + <p> + Gabriel, having thrown aside his hat on entering, was now directly beneath + the skylight of the garret apartment, the bright light through which shone + upon his sweet, pale countenance: and the round scar, which extended from + one eyebrow to the other, was therefore distinctly visible. + </p> + <p> + In the midst of the powerful and diversified emotion, and of the exciting + events which so rapidly followed the shipwreck on the rocky coast near + Cardoville House, Dagobert, during the short interview he then had with + Gabriel, had not perceived the scar which seamed the forehead of the young + missionary. Now, partaking, however, of the surprise of his son, Dagobert + said: + </p> + <p> + “Aye, indeed! how came this scar upon your brow?” + </p> + <p> + “And on his hands, too; see, dear father!” exclaimed the + blacksmith, with renewed surprise, while he seized one of the hands which + the young priest held out towards him in order to tranquillize his fears. + </p> + <p> + “Gabriel, my brave boy, explain this to us!” added Dagobert; + “who has wounded you thus?” and in his turn, taking the other + hand of the missionary, he examined the scar upon it with the eye of a + judge of wounds, and then added, “In Spain, one of my comrades was + found and taken down alive from a cross, erected at the junction of + several roads, upon which the monks had crucified, and left him to die of + hunger, thirst, and agony. Ever afterwards he bore scars upon his hands, + exactly similar to this upon your hand.” + </p> + <p> + “My father is right!” exclaimed Agricola. “It is evident + that your hands have been pierced through! My poor brother!” and + Agricola became grievously agitated. + </p> + <p> + “Do not think about it,” said Gabriel, reddening with the + embarrassment of modesty. “Having gone as a missionary amongst the + savages of the Rocky Mountains, they crucified me, and they had begun to + scalp me, when Providence snatched me from their hands.” + </p> + <p> + “Unfortunate youth,” said Dagobert; “without arms then? + You had not a sufficient escort for your protection?” + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:65%;"> + <img src="images/10305m.jpg" alt="10305m " width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/10305.jpg"><i>Original</i></a> + </h5> + <p> + “It is not for such as me to carry arms.” said Gabriel, + sweetly smiling; “and we are never accompanied by any escort.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, but your companions, those who were along with you, how came + it that they did not defend you?” impetuously asked Agricola. + </p> + <p> + “I was alone, my dear brother.” + </p> + <p> + “Alone!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, alone; without even a guide.” + </p> + <p> + “You alone! unarmed! in a barbarous country!” exclaimed + Dagobert, scarcely crediting a step so unmilitary, and almost distrusting + his own sense of hearing. + </p> + <p> + “It was sublime!” said the young blacksmith and poet. + </p> + <p> + “The Christian faith,” said Gabriel, with mild simplicity, + “cannot be implanted by force or violence. It is only by the power + of persuasion that the gospel can be spread amongst poor savages.” + </p> + <p> + “But when persuasions fail!” said Agricola. + </p> + <p> + “Why, then, dear brother, one has but to die for the belief that is + in him, pitying those who have rejected it, and who have refused the + blessings it offers to mankind.” + </p> + <p> + There was a period of profound silence after the reply of Gabriel, which + was uttered with simple and touching pathos. + </p> + <p> + Dagobert was in his own nature too courageous not to comprehend a heroism + thus calm and resigned; and the old soldier, as well as his son, now + contemplated Gabriel with the most earnest feelings of mingled admiration + and respect. + </p> + <p> + Gabriel, entirely free from the affection of false modesty, seemed quite + unconscious of the emotions which he had excited in the breasts of his two + friends; and he therefore said to Dagobert, “What ails you?” + </p> + <p> + “What ails me!” exclaimed the brave old soldier, with great + emotion: “After having been for thirty years in the wars, I had + imagined myself to be about as courageous as any man. And now I find I + have a master! And that master is yourself!” + </p> + <p> + “I!” said Gabriel; “what do you mean? What have I done?” + </p> + <p> + “Thunder, don’t you know that the brave wounds there” + (the veteran took with transport both of Gabriel’s hands), “that + these wounds are as glorious—are more glorious than our—than + all ours, as warriors by profession!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes! yes, my father speaks truth!” exclaimed Agricola; and he + added, with enthusiasm, “Oh, for such priests! How I love them! How + I venerate them! How I am elevated by their charity, their courage, their + resignation!” + </p> + <p> + “I entreat you not to extol me thus,” said Gabriel with + embarrassment. + </p> + <p> + “Not extol you!” replied Dagobert. “Hanged if I shouldn’t. + When I have gone into the heat of action, did I rush into it alone? Was I + not under the eyes of my commanding officer? Were not my comrades there + along with me? In default of true courage, had I not the instinct of self + preservation to spur me on, without reckoning the excitement of the shouts + and tumult of battle, the smell of the gunpowder, the flourishes of the + trumpets, the thundering of the cannon, the ardor of my horse, which + bounded beneath me as if the devil were at his tail? Need I state that I + also knew that the emperor was present, with his eye upon every one—the + emperor, who, in recompense for a hole being made in my tough hide, would + give me a bit of lace or a ribbon, as plaster for the wound. Thanks to all + these causes, I passed for game. Fair enough! But are you not a thousand + times more game than I, my brave boy; going alone, unarmed, to confront + enemies a hundred times more ferocious than those whom we attacked—we, + who fought in whole squadrons, supported by artillery, bomb-shells, and + case-shot?” + </p> + <p> + “Excellent father!” cried Agricola, “how noble of you to + render to Gabriel this justice!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, dear brother,” said Gabriel, “his kindness to me + makes him magnify what was quite natural and simple!” + </p> + <p> + “Natural!” said the veteran soldier; “yes, natural for + gallants who have hearts of the true temper: but that temper is rare.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes, very rare,” said Agricola; “for that kind of + courage is the most admirable of all. Most bravely did you seek almost + certain death, alone, bearing the cross in hand as your only weapon, to + preach charity and Christian brotherhood. They seized you, tortured you; + and you await death and partly endure it, without complaint, without + remonstrance, without hatred, without anger, without a wish for vengeance; + forgiveness issuing from your mouth, and a smile of pity beaming upon your + lips; and this in the depths of forests, where no one could witness your + magnanimity,—none could behold you—and without other desire, + after you were rescued than modestly to conceal blessed wounds under your + black robe! My father is right, by Jove! can you still contend that you + are not as brave as he?” + </p> + <p> + “And besides, too,” resumed Dagobert, “the dear boy did + all that for a thankless paymaster; for it is true, Agricola, that his + wounds will never change his humble black robe of a priest into the rich + robe of a bishop!” + </p> + <p> + “I am not so disinterested as I may seem to be,” said Gabriel + to Dagobert, smiling meekly. “If I am deemed worthy, a great + recompense awaits me on high.” + </p> + <p> + “As to all that, my boy,” said Dagobert, “I do not + understand it; and I will not argue about it. I maintain it, that my old + cross of honor would be at least as deservedly affixed to your cassock as + upon my uniform.” + </p> + <p> + “But these recompenses are never conferred upon humble priests like + Gabriel,” said Agricola, “and if you did know, dear father, + how much virtue and valor is among those whom the highest orders in the + priesthood insolently call the inferior clergy,—the unseen merit and + the blind devotedness to be found amongst worthy, but obscure, country + curates, who are inhumanly treated and subjugated to a pitiless yoke by + the lordly lawnsleeves! Like us, those poor priests are worthy laborers in + their vocation; and for them, also, all generous hearts ought to demand + enfranchisement! Sons of common people, like ourselves, and useful as we + are, justice ought to be rendered both to them and to us. Do I say right, + Gabriel? You will not contradict it; for you have told me, that your + ambition would have been to obtain a small country curacy; because you + understand the good that you could work within it.” + </p> + <p> + “My desire is still the same,” said Gabriel sadly: “but + unfortunately—” and then, as if he wished to escape from a + painful thought, and to change the conversation, he, addressing himself to + Dagobert, added: “Believe me: be more just than to undervalue your + own courage by exalting mine. Your courage must be very great—very + great; for, after a battle, the spectacle of the carnage must be truly + terrible to a generous and feeling heart. We, at least, though we may be + killed, do not kill.” + </p> + <p> + At these words of the missionary, the soldier drew himself up erect, + looked upon Gabriel with astonishment, and said, “This is most + surprising!” + </p> + <p> + “What is?” inquired Agricola. + </p> + <p> + “What Gabriel has just told us,” replied Dagobert, “brings + to my mind what I experienced in warfare on the battlefield in proportion + as I advanced in years. Listen, my children: more than once, on the night + after a general engagement, I have been mounted as a vidette,—alone,—by + night,—amid the moonlight, on the field of battle which remained in + our possession, and upon which lay the bodies of seven or eight thousand + of the slain, amongst whom were mingled the slaughtered remains of some of + my old comrades: and then this sad scene, when the profound silence has + restored me to my senses from the thirst for bloodshed and the delirious + whirling of my sword (intoxicated like the rest), I have said to myself, + ‘for what have these men been killed?—FOR WHAT—FOR WHAT?’ + But this feeling, well understood as it was, hindered me not, on the + following morning, when the trumpets again sounded the charge, from + rushing once more to the slaughter. But the same thought always recurred + when my arm became weary with carnage; and after wiping my sabre upon the + mane of my horse, I have said to myself, ‘I have killed!—killed!!—killed!!! + and, FOR WHAT!!!’” + </p> + <p> + The missionary and the blacksmith exchanged looks on hearing the old + soldier give utterance to this singular retrospection of the past. + </p> + <p> + “Alas!” said Gabriel to him, “all generous hearts feel + as you did during the solemn moments, when the intoxication of glory has + subsided, and man is left alone to the influence of the good instincts + planted in his bosom.” + </p> + <p> + “And that should prove, my brave boy,” rejoined Dagobert, + “that you are greatly better than I; for those noble instincts, as + you call them, have never abandoned you. * * * * But how the deuce did you + escape from the claws of the infuriated savages who had already crucified + you?” + </p> + <p> + At this question of Dagobert, Gabriel started and reddened so visibly, + that the soldier said to him: “If you ought not or cannot answer my + request, let us say no more about it.” + </p> + <p> + “I have nothing to conceal, either from you or from my brother,” + replied the missionary with altered voice. “Only; it will be + difficult for me to make you comprehend what I cannot comprehend myself.” + </p> + <p> + “How is that?” asked Agricola with surprise. + </p> + <p> + “Surely,” said Gabriel, reddening more deeply, “I must + have been deceived by a fallacy of my senses, during that abstracted + moment in which I awaited death with resignation. My enfeebled mind, in + spite of me, must have been cheated by an illusion; or that, which to the + present hour has remained inexplicable, would have been more slowly + developed; and I should have known with greater certainty that it was the + strange woman—” + </p> + <p> + Dagobert, while listening to the missionary, was perfectly amazed; for he + also had vainly tried to account for the unexpected succor which had freed + him and the two orphans from the prison at Leipsic. + </p> + <p> + “Of what woman do you speak?” asked Agricola. + </p> + <p> + “Of her who saved me,” was the reply. + </p> + <p> + “A woman saved you from the hands of the savages?” said + Dagobert. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” replied Gabriel, though absorbed in his reflections, + “a woman, young and beautiful!” + </p> + <p> + “And who was this woman?” asked Agricola. + </p> + <p> + “I know not. When I asked her, she replied, ‘I am the sister + of the distressed!’” + </p> + <p> + “And whence came she? Whither went she?” asked Dagobert, + singularly interested. + </p> + <p> + “‘I go wheresoever there is suffering,’ she replied,” + answered the missionary; “and she departed, going towards the north + of America—towards those desolate regions in which there is eternal + snow, where the nights are without end.” + </p> + <p> + “As in Siberia,” said Dagobert, who had become very + thoughtful. + </p> + <p> + “But,” resumed Agricola, addressing himself to Gabriel, who + seemed also to have become more and more absorbed, “in what manner + or by what means did this woman come to your assistance?” + </p> + <p> + The missionary was about to reply to the last question, when there was + heard a gentle tap at the door of the garret apartment, which renewed the + fears that Agricola had forgotten since the arrival of his adopted + brother. “Agricola,” said a sweet voice outside the door, + “I wish to speak with you as soon as possible.” + </p> + <p> + The blacksmith recognized Mother Bunch’s voice, and opened the door. + But the young sempstress, instead of entering, drew back into the dark + passage, and said, with a voice of anxiety: “Agricola, it is an hour + since broad day, and you have not yet departed! How imprudent! I have been + watching below, in the street, until now, and have seen nothing alarming; + but they may come any instant to arrest you. Hasten, I conjure you, your + departure for the abode of Miss de Cardoville. Not a minute should be + lost.” + </p> + <p> + “Had it not been for the arrival of Gabriel, I should have been + gone. But I could not resist the happiness of remaining some little time + with him.” + </p> + <p> + “Gabriel here!” said Mother Bunch, with sweet surprise; for, + as has been stated, she had been brought up with him and Agricola. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” answered Agricola, “for half an hour he has been + with my father and me.” + </p> + <p> + “What happiness I shall have in seeing him again,” said the + sewing-girl. “He doubtless came upstairs while I had gone for a + brief space to your mother, to ask if I could be useful in any way on + account of the young ladies; but they have been so fatigued that they + still sleep. Your mother has requested me to give you this letter for your + father. She has just received it.” + </p> + <p> + “Thanks.” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” resumed Mother Bunch, “now that you have seen + Gabriel, do not delay long. Think what a blow it would be for your father, + if they came to arrest you in his very presence mon Dieu!” + </p> + <p> + “You are right,” said Agricola; “it is indispensable + that I should depart—while near Gabriel in spite of my anxiety, my + fears were forgotten.” + </p> + <p> + “Go quickly, then; and if Miss de Cardoville should grant this + favor, perhaps in a couple of hours you will return, quite at ease both as + to yourself and us.” + </p> + <p> + “True! a very few minutes more; and I’ll come down.” + </p> + <p> + “I return to watch at the door. If I perceive anything. I’ll + come up again to apprise you. But pray, do not delay.” + </p> + <p> + “Be easy, good sister.” Mother Bunch hurriedly descended the + staircase, to resume her watch at the street door, and Agricola re-entered + his garret. “Dear father,” he said to Dagobert, “my + mother has just received this letter, and she requests you to read it.” + </p> + <p> + “Very well; read it for me, my boy.” And Agricola read as + follows: + </p> + <p> + “MADAME.—I understand that your husband has been charged by + General Simon with an affair of very great importance. Will you, as soon + as your husband arrives in Paris, request him to come to my office at + Chartres without a moment’s delay. I am instructed to deliver to + himself, and to no other person, some documents indispensable to the + interests of General Simon. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “DURAND, Notary at Chartres.” + </pre> + <p> + Dagobert looked at his son with astonishment, and said to him, “Who + can have told this gentleman already of my arrival in Paris?” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps, father,” said Agricola, “this is the notary to + whom you transmitted some papers, and whose address you have lost.” + </p> + <p> + “But his name was not Durand; and I distinctly recollect that his + address was Paris, not Chartres. And, besides,” said the soldier, + thoughtfully, “if he has some important documents, why didn’t + he transmit them to me?” + </p> + <p> + “It seems to me that you ought not to neglect going to him as soon + as possible,” said Agricola, secretly rejoiced that this + circumstance would withdraw his father for about two days, during which + time his (Agricola’s) fate would be decided in one way or other. + </p> + <p> + “Your counsel is good,” replied his father. + </p> + <p> + “This thwarts your intentions in some degree?” asked Gabriel. + </p> + <p> + “Rather, my lads; for I counted upon passing the day with you. + However, ‘duty before everything.’ Having come happily from + Siberia to Paris, it is not for me to fear a journey from Paris to + Chartres, when it is required on an affair of importance. In twice + twenty-four hours I shall be back again. But the deuce take me if I + expected to leave Paris for Chartres to-day. Luckily, I leave Rose and + Blanche with my good wife; and Gabriel, their angel, as they call him, + will be here to keep them company.” + </p> + <p> + “That is, unfortunately, impossible,” said the missionary, + sadly. “This visit on my arrival is also a farewell visit.” + </p> + <p> + “A farewell visit! Now!” exclaimed Dagobert and Agricola both + at once. + </p> + <p> + “Alas, yes!” + </p> + <p> + “You start already on another mission?” said Dagobert; “surely + it is not possible?” + </p> + <p> + “I must answer no question upon this subject,” said Gabriel, + suppressing a sigh: “but from now, for some time, I cannot, and + ought not, come again into this house.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, my brave boy,” resumed Dagobert with emotion, “there + is something in thy conduct that savors of constraint, of oppression. I + know something of men. He you call superior, whom I saw for some moments + after the shipwreck at Cardoville Castle, has a bad look; and I am sorry + to see you enrolled under such a commander.” + </p> + <p> + “At Cardoville Castle!” exclaimed Agricola, struck with the + identity of the name with that of the young lady of the golden hair; + “was it in Cardoville Castle that you were received after your + shipwreck?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, my boy; why, does that astonish you?” asked Dagobert. + </p> + <p> + “Nothing father; but were the owners of the castle there at the + time?” + </p> + <p> + “No; for the steward, when I applied to him for an opportunity to + return thanks for the kind hospitality we had experienced, informed me + that the person to whom the house belonged was resident at Paris.” + </p> + <p> + “What a singular coincidence,” thought Agricola, “if the + young lady should be the proprietor of the dwelling which bears her name!” + </p> + <p> + This reflection having recalled to Agricola the promise which he had made + to Mother Bunch, he said to Dagobert; “Dear father, excuse me; but + it is already late, and I ought to be in the workshop by eight o’clock.” + </p> + <p> + “That is too true, my boy. Let us go. This party is adjourned till + my return from Chartres. Embrace me once more, and take care of yourself.” + </p> + <p> + Since Dagobert had spoken of constraint and oppression to Gabriel, the + latter had continued pensive. At the moment when Agricola approached him + to shake hands, and to bid him adieu, the missionary said to him solemnly, + with a grave voice, and in a tone of decision that astonished both the + blacksmith and the soldier: “My dear brother, one word more. I have + come here to say to you also that within a few days hence I shall have + need of you; and of you also, my father (permit me so to call you),” + added Gabriel, with emotion, as he turned round to Dagobert. + </p> + <p> + “How! you speak thus to us!” exclaimed Agricola; “what + is the matter?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” replied Gabriel, “I need the advice and + assistance of two men of honor—of two men of resolution;—and I + can reckon upon you two—can I not? At any hour, on whatever day it + may be, upon a word from me, will you come?” + </p> + <p> + Dagobert and his son regarded each other in silence, astonished at the + accents of the missionary. Agricola felt an oppression of the heart. If he + should be a prisoner when his brother should require his assistance, what + could be done? + </p> + <p> + “At every hour, by night or by day, my brave boy, you may depend + upon us,” said Dagobert, as much surprised as interested—“You + have a father and a brother; make your own use of them.” + </p> + <p> + “Thanks, thanks,” said Gabriel, “you set me quite at + ease.” + </p> + <p> + “I’ll tell you what,” resumed the soldier, “were + it not for your priest’s robe, I should believe, from the manner in + which you have spoken to us, that you are about to be engaged in a duel—in + a mortal combat.” + </p> + <p> + “In a duel?” said Gabriel, starting. “Yes; it may be a + duel—uncommon and fearful—at which it is necessary to have two + witnesses such as you—A FATHER and A BROTHER!” + </p> + <p> + Some instants afterwards, Agricola, whose anxiety was continually + increasing, set off in haste for the dwelling of Mademoiselle de + Cardoville, to which we now beg leave to take the reader. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0033" id="link2HCH0033"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXXIII. THE PAVILION. + </h2> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">D</span>izier House was + one of the largest and handsomest in the Rue Babylone, in Paris. Nothing + could be more severe, more imposing, or more depressing than the aspect of + this old mansion. Several immense windows, filled with small squares of + glass, painted a grayish white, increased the sombre effect of the massive + layers of huge stones, blackened by time, of which the fabric was + composed. + </p> + <p> + This dwelling bore a resemblance to all the others that had been erected + in the same quarter towards the middle of the last century. It was + surmounted in front by a pediment; it had an elevated ground floor, which + was reached from the outside by a circular flight of broad stone steps. + One of the fronts looked on an immense court-yard, on each side of which + an arcade led to the vast interior departments. The other front overlooked + the garden, or rather park, of twelve or fifteen roods; and, on this side, + wings, approaching the principal part of the structure, formed a couple of + lateral galleries. Like nearly all the other great habitations of this + quarter, there might be seen at the extremity of the garden, what the + owners and occupiers of each called the lesser mansion. + </p> + <p> + This extension was a Pompadour summer-house, built in the form of a + rotunda, with the charming though incorrect taste of the era of its + erection. It presented, in every part where it was possible for the stones + to be cut, a profusion of endives, knots of ribbons, garlands of flowers, + and chubby cupids. This pavilion, inhabited by Adrienne de Cardoville was + composed of a ground floor, which was reached by a peristyle of several + steps. A small vestibule led to a circular hall, lighted from the roof. + Four principal apartments met here; and ranges of smaller rooms, concealed + in the upper story, served for minor purposes. + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:65%;"> + <img src="images/10315m.jpg" alt="10315m " width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/10315.jpg"><i>Original</i></a> + </h5> + <p> + These dependencies of great habitations are in our days disused, or + transformed into irregular conservatories; but by an uncommon exception, + the black exterior of the pavilion had been scraped and renewed, and the + entire structure repaired. The white stones of which it was built + glistened like Parian marble; and its renovated, coquettish aspect + contrasted singularly with the gloomy mansion seen at the other extremity + of an extensive lawn, on which were planted here and there gigantic clumps + of verdant trees. + </p> + <p> + The following scene occurred at this residence on the morning following + that of the arrival of Dagobert, with the daughters of Marshal Simon, in + the Rue Brise-Miche. The hour of eight had sounded from the steeple of a + neighboring church; a brilliant winter sun arose to brighten a pure blue + sky behind the tall leafless trees, which in summer formed a dome of + verdure over the summer-house. The door in the vestibule opened, and the + rays of the morning sun beamed upon a charming creature, or rather upon + two charming creatures, for the second one, though filling a modest place + in the scale of creation, was not less distinguished by beauty of its own, + which was very striking. In plain terms two individuals, one of them a + young girl, and the other a tiny English dog, of great beauty, of that + breed of spaniels called King Charles’s, made their appearance under + the peristyle of the rotunda. The name of the young girl was Georgette; + the beautiful little spaniel’s was Frisky. Georgette was in her + eighteenth year. Never had Florine or Manton, never had a lady’s + maid of Marivaux, a more mischievous face, an eye more quick, a smile more + roguish, teeth more white, cheeks more roseate, figure more coquettish, + feet smaller, or form smarter, attractive, and enticing. Though it was yet + very early, Georgette was carefully and tastefully dressed. A tiny + Valenciennes cap, with flaps and flap-band, of half peasant fashion, + decked with rose-colored ribbons, and stuck a little backward upon bands + of beautiful fair hair, surrounded her fresh and piquant face; a robe of + gray levantine, and a cambric neck-kerchief, fastened to her bosom by a + large tuft of rose-colored ribbons, displayed her figure elegantly + rounded; a hollands apron, white as snow, trimmed below by three large + hems, surmounted by a Vandyke-row, encircled her waist, which was as round + and flexible as a reed; her short, plain sleeves, edged with bone lace, + allowed her plump arms to be seen, which her long Swedish gloves, reaching + to the elbow, defended from the rigor of the cold. When Georgette raised + the bottom of her dress, in order to descend more quickly the steps, she + exhibited to Frisky’s indifferent eyes a beautiful ankle, and the + beginning of the plump calf of a fine leg, encased in white silk, and a + charming little foot, in a laced half-boot of Turkish satin. When a blonde + like Georgette sets herself to be ensnaring; when vivid glances sparkle + from her eyes of bright yet tender blue; when a joyous excitement suffuses + her transparent skin, she is more resistless for the conquest of + everything before her than a brunette. + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:65%;"> + <img src="images/10319m.jpg" alt="10319m " width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/10319.jpg"><i>Original</i></a> + </h5> + <p> + This bewitching and nimble lady’s-maid, who on the previous evening + had introduced Agricola to the pavilion, was first waiting woman to the + Honorable Miss Adrienne de Cardoville, niece of the Princess Saint Dizier. + </p> + <p> + Frisky, so happily found and brought back by the blacksmith, uttered weak + but joyful barks, and bounded, ran, and frolicked upon the turf. She was + not much bigger than one’s fist; her curled hair, of lustrous black, + shone like ebony, under the broad, red satin ribbon which encircled her + neck; her paws, fringed with long silken fur, were of a bright and fiery + tan, as well as her muzzle, the nose of which was inconceivably pug; her + large eyes were full of intelligence; and her curly ears so long that they + trailed upon the ground. Georgette seemed to be as brisk and petulant as + Frisky, and shared her sportiveness,—now scampering after the happy + little spaniel, and now retreating, in order to be pursued upon the + greensward in her turn. All at once, at the sight of a second person, who + advanced with deliberate gravity, Georgette and Frisky were suddenly + stopped in their diversion. The little King Charles, some steps in advance + of Georgette, faithful to her name, and bold as the devil, held herself + firmly upon her nervous paws, and fiercely awaited the coming up of the + enemy, displaying at the same time rows of little teeth, which, though of + ivory, were none the less pointed and sharp. The enemy consisted of a + woman of mature age, accompanied by a very fat dog, of the color of coffee + and milk; his tail was twisted like a corkscrew; he was pot-bellied; his + skin was sleek; his neck was turned little to one side; he walked with his + legs inordinately spread out, and stepped with the air of a doctor. His + black muzzle, quarrelsome and scowling showed two fangs sallying forth, + and turning up from the left side of the mouth, and altogether he had an + expression singularly forbidding and vindictive. This disagreeable animal, + a perfect type of what might be called a “church-goer’s pug,” + answered to the name of “My Lord.” His mistress, a woman of + about fifty years of age, corpulent and of middle size, was dressed in a + costume as gloomy and severe as that of Georgette was gay and showy. It + consisted of a brown robe, a black silk mantle, and a hat of the same dye. + The features of this woman might have been agreeable in her youth; and her + florid cheeks, her correct eyebrows, her black eyes, which were still very + lively, scarcely accorded with the peevish and austere physiognomy which + she tried to assume. This matron, of slow and discreet gait, was Madame + Augustine Grivois, first woman to the Princess Saint-Dizier. Not only did + the age, the face, and the dress of these two women present a striking + contrast; but the contrast extended itself even to the animals which + attended them. There were similar differences between Frisky and My Lord, + as between Georgette and Mrs. Grivois. When the latter perceived the + little King Charles, she could not restrain a movement of surprise and + repugnance, which escaped not the notice of the young lady’s maid. + Frisky, who had not retreated one inch, since the apparition of My Lord, + regarded him valiantly, with a look of defiance, and even advanced towards + him with an air so decidedly hostile, that the cur, though thrice as big + as the little King Charles, uttered a howl of distress and terror, and + sought refuge behind Mrs. Grivois, who bitterly said to Georgette: + </p> + <p> + “It seems to me, miss, that you might dispense with exciting your + dog thus, and setting him upon mine.” + </p> + <p> + “It was doubtless for the purpose of protecting this respectable but + ugly animal from similar alarms, that you tried to make us lose Frisky + yesterday, by driving her into the street through the little garden gate. + But fortunately an honest young man found Frisky in the Rue de Babylone, + and brought her back to my mistress. However,” continued Georgette, + “to what, madame, do I owe the pleasure of seeing you this morning?” + </p> + <p> + “I am commanded by the Princess,” replied Mrs. Grivois, unable + to conceal a smile of triumphant satisfaction, “immediately to see + Miss Adrienne. It regards a very important affair, which I am to + communicate only to herself.” + </p> + <p> + At these words Georgette became purple, and could not repress a slight + start of disquietude, which happily escaped Grivois, who was occupied with + watching over the safety of her pet, whom Frisky continued to snarl at + with a very menacing aspect; and Georgette, having quickly overcome her + temporary emotion, firmly answered: “Miss Adrienne went to rest very + late last night. She has forbidden me to enter her apartment before mid + day.” + </p> + <p> + “That is very possible: but as the present business is to obey an + order of the Princess her aunt, you will do well if you please, miss, to + awaken your mistress immediately.” + </p> + <p> + “My mistress is subject to no one’s orders in her own house; + and I will not disturb her till mid-day, in pursuance of her commands,” + replied Georgette. + </p> + <p> + “Then I shall go myself,” said Mrs. Grivois. + </p> + <p> + “Florine and Hebe will not admit you. Indeed, here is the key of the + saloon; and through the saloon only can the apartments of Miss Adrienne be + entered.” + </p> + <p> + “How! do you dare refuse me permission to execute the orders of the + Princess?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; I dare to commit the great crime of being unwilling to awaken + my mistress!” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! such are the results of the blind affection of the Princess for + her niece,” said the matron, with affected grief: “Miss + Adrienne no longer respects her aunt’s orders; and she is surrounded + by young hare-brained persons, who, from the first dawn of morning, dress + themselves out as if for ball-going.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, madame! how came you to revile dress, who were formerly the + greatest coquette and the most frisky and fluttering of all the Princess’s + women. At least, that is what is still spoken of you in the hotel, as + having been handed down from time out of mind, by generation to + generation, even unto ours!” + </p> + <p> + “How! from generation to generation! do you mean to insinuate that I + am a hundred years old, Miss Impertinence?” + </p> + <p> + “I speak of the generations of waiting-women; for, except you, it is + the utmost if they remain two or three years in the Princess’s + house, who has too many tempers for the poor girls!” + </p> + <p> + “I forbid you to speak thus of my mistress, whose name some people + ought not to pronounce but on their knees.” + </p> + <p> + “However,” said Georgette, “if one wished to speak ill + of—” + </p> + <p> + “Do you dare!” + </p> + <p> + “No longer ago than last night, at half past eleven o’clock—” + </p> + <p> + “Last night?” + </p> + <p> + “A four-wheeler,” continued Georgette, “stopped at a few + paces from the house. A mysterious personage, wrapped up in a cloak, + alighted from it, and directly tapped, not at the door, but on the glass + of the porter’s lodge window; and at one o’clock in the + morning, the cab was still stationed in the street, waiting for the + mysterious personage in the cloak, who, doubtless, during all that time, + was, as you say, pronouncing the name of her Highness the Princess on his + knees.” + </p> + <p> + Whether Mrs. Grivois had not been instructed as to a visit made to the + Princess Saint-Dizier by Rodin (for he was the man in the cloak), in the + middle of the night, after he had become certain of the arrival in Paris + of General Simon’s daughters; or whether Mrs. Grivois thought it + necessary to appear ignorant of the visit, she replied, shrugging her + shoulders disdainfully: “I know not what you, mean, madame. I have + not come here to listen to your impertinent stuff. Once again I ask you—will + you, or will you not, introduce me to the presence of Miss Adrienne?” + </p> + <p> + “I repeat, madame, that my mistress sleeps, and that she has + forbidden me to enter her bed-chamber before mid-day.” + </p> + <p> + This conversation took place at some distance from the summer-house, at a + spot from which the peristyle could be seen at the end of a grand avenue, + terminating in trees arranged in form of a V. All at once Mrs. Grivois, + extending her hand in that direction, exclaimed: “Great heavens! is + it possible? what have I seen?” + </p> + <p> + “What have you seen?” said Georgette, turning round. + </p> + <p> + “What have I seen?” repeated Mrs. Grivois, with amazement. + </p> + <p> + “Yes: what was it?” + </p> + <p> + “Miss Adrienne.” + </p> + <p> + “Where?” asked Georgette. + </p> + <p> + “I saw her run up the porch steps. I perfectly recognized her by her + gait, by her hat, and by her mantle. To come home at eight o’clock + in the morning!” cried Mrs. Grivois: “it is perfectly + incredible!” + </p> + <p> + “See my lady? Why, you came to see her!” and Georgette burst + out into fits of laughter: and then said: “Oh! I understand! you + wish to out-do my story of the four-wheeler last night! It is very neat of + you!” + </p> + <p> + “I repeat,” said Mrs. Grivois, “that I have this moment + seen—” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! adone, Mrs. Grivois: if you speak seriously, you are mad!” + </p> + <p> + “I am mad, am I? because I have a pair of good eyes! The little gate + that open’s on the street lets one into the quincunx near the + pavilion. It is by that door, doubtless, that mademoiselle has re-entered. + Oh, what shameful conduct! what will the Princess say to it! Ah! her + presentiments have not yet been mistaken. See to what her weak indulgence + of her niece’s caprices has led her! It is monstrous!—so + monstrous, that, though I have seen her with my own eyes, still I can + scarcely believe it!” + </p> + <p> + “Since you’ve gone so far, ma’am, I now insist upon + conducting you into the apartment of my lady, in order that you may + convince yourself, by your own senses, that your eyes have deceived you!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, you are very cunning, my dear, but not more cunning than I! You + propose my going now! Yes, yes, I believe you: you are certain that by + this time I shall find her in her apartment!” + </p> + <p> + “But, madame, I assure you—” + </p> + <p> + “All that I can say to you is this: that neither you, nor Florine, + nor Hebe, shall remain here twenty-four hours. The Princess will put an + end to this horrible scandal; for I shall immediately inform her of what + has passed. To go out in the night! Re-enter at eight o’clock in the + morning! Why, I am all in a whirl! Certainly, if I had not seen it with my + own eyes, I could not have believed it! Still, it is only what was to be + expected. It will astonish nobody. Assuredly not! All those to whom I am + going to relate it, will say, I am quite sure, that it is not at all + astonishing! Oh! what a blow to our respectable Princess! What a blow for + her!” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Grivois returned precipitately towards the mansion, followed by her + fat pug, who appeared to be as embittered as herself. + </p> + <p> + Georgette, active and light, ran, on her part, towards the pavilion, in + order to apprise Miss de Cardoville that Mrs. Grivois had seen her, or + fancied she had seen her, furtively enter by the little garden gate. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0034" id="link2HCH0034"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXXIV. ADRIENNE AT HER TOILET. + </h2> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">A</span>bout an hour had + elapsed since Mrs. Grivois had seen or pretended to have seen Adrienne de + Cardoville re-enter in the morning the extension of Saint-Dizier House. + </p> + <p> + It is for the purpose, not of excusing, but of rendering intelligible, the + following scenes, that it is deemed necessary to bring out into the light + some striking peculiarities in the truly original character of Miss de + Cardoville. + </p> + <p> + This originality consisted in an excessive independence of mind, joined to + a natural horror of whatsoever is repulsive or deformed, and to an + insatiable desire of being surrounded by everything attractive and + beautiful. The painter most delighted with coloring and beauty, the + sculptor most charmed by proportions of form, feel not more than Adrienne + did the noble enthusiasm which the view of perfect beauty always excites + in the chosen favorites of nature. + </p> + <p> + And it was not only the pleasures of sight which this young lady loved to + gratify: the harmonious modulations of song, the melody of instruments, + the cadences of poetry, afforded her infinite pleasures; while a harsh + voice or a discordant noise made her feel the same painful impression, or + one nearly as painful as that which she involuntarily experienced from the + sight of a hideous object. Passionately fond of flowers, too, and of their + sweet scents, there are some perfumes which she enjoyed equally with the + delights of music or those of plastic beauty. It is necessary, alas, to + acknowledge one enormity: Adrienne was dainty in her food! She valued more + than any one else the fresh pulp of handsome fruit, the delicate savor of + a golden pheasant, cooked to a turn, and the odorous cluster of a generous + vine. + </p> + <p> + But Adrienne enjoyed all these pleasures with an exquisite reserve. She + sought religiously to cultivate and refine the senses given her. She would + have deemed it black ingratitude to blunt those divine gifts by excesses, + or to debase them by unworthy selections of objects upon which to exercise + them; a fault from which, indeed, she was preserved by the excessive and + imperious delicacy of her taste. + </p> + <p> + The BEAUTIFUL and the UGLY occupied for her the places which GOOD and EVIL + holds for others. + </p> + <p> + Her devotion to grace, elegance, and physical beauty, had led her also to + the adoration of moral beauty; for if the expression of a low and bad + passion render uncomely the most beautiful countenances, those which are + in themselves the most ugly are ennobled, on the contrary, by the + expression of good feelings and generous sentiments. + </p> + <p> + In a word, Adrienne was the most complete, the most ideal personification + of SENSUALITY—not of vulgar, ignorant, non intelligent, mistaken + sensuousness which is always deceit ful and corrupted by habit or by the + necessity for gross and ill-regulated enjoyments, but that exquisite + sensuality which is to the senses what intelligence is to the soul. + </p> + <p> + The independence of this young lady’s character was extreme. Certain + humiliating subjections imposed upon her success by its social position, + above all things were revolting to her, and she had the hardihood to + resolve to withdraw herself from them. She was a woman, the most womanish + that it is possible to imagine—a woman in her timidity as well as in + her audacity—a woman in her hatred of the brutal despotism of men, + as well as in her intense disposition to self-devoting herself, madly even + and blindly, to him who should merit such a devotion from her—a + woman whose piquant wit was occasionally paradoxical—a superior + woman, in brief, who entertained a well-grounded disdain and contempt for + certain men either placed very high or greatly adulated, whom she had from + time to time met in the drawing-room of her aunt, the Princess + Saint-Dizier, when she resided with her. + </p> + <p> + These indispensable explanations being given, we usher, the reader into + the presence of Adrienne de Cardoville, who had just come out of the bath. + </p> + <p> + It would require all the brilliant colorings of the Venetian school to + represent that charming scene, which would rather seem to have occurred in + the sixteenth century, in some palace of Florence or Bologna, than in + Paris, in the Faubourg Saint-Germain, in the month of February, 1832. + </p> + <p> + Adrienne’s dressing-room was a kind of miniature temple seemingly + one erected and dedicated to the worship of beauty, in gratitude to the + Maker who has lavished so many charms upon woman, not to be neglected by + her, or to cover and conceal them with ashes, or to destroy them by the + contact of her person with sordid and harsh haircloth; but in order that, + with fervent gratitude for the divine gifts wherewith she is endowed, she + may enhance her charms with all the illusions of grace and all the + splendors of apparel, so as to glorify the divine work of her own + perfections in the eyes of all. Daylight was admitted into this + semicircular apartment, through one of those double windows, contrived for + the preservation of heat, so happily imported from Germany. The walls of + the pavilion being constructed of stone of great thickness, the depth of + the aperture for the windows was therefore very great. That of Adrienne’s + dressing-room was closed on the outside by a sash containing a single + large pane of plate glass, and within, by another large plate of ground + glass. In the interval or space of about three feet left between these two + transparent enclosures, there was a case or box filled with furze mould, + whence sprung forth climbing plants, which, directed round the ground + glass, formed a rich garland of leaves and flowers. A garnet damask + tapestry, rich with harmoniously blended arabesques, in the purest style, + covered the walls and a thick carpet of similar color was extended over + the floor: and this sombre ground, presented by the floor and walls, + marvellously enhanced the effects of all the harmonious ornaments and + decorations of the chamber. + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:65%;"> + <img src="images/10327m.jpg" alt="10327m " width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/10327.jpg"><i>Original</i></a> + </h5> + <p> + Under the window, opposite to the south, was placed Adrienne’s + dressing case, a real masterpiece of the skill of the goldsmith. Upon a + large tablet of lapis-lazuli, there were scattered boxes of jewels, their + lids precisely enamelled; several scent boxes of rock crystal, and other + implements and utensils of the toilet, some formed of shells, some of + mother-of-pearl, and others of ivory, covered with ornaments of gold in + extraordinary taste. Two large figures, modelled in silver with antique + purity; supported an oval swing mirror, which had for its rim, in place of + a frame curiously carved, a fresh garland of natural flowers, renewed + every day like a nosegay for a ball. + </p> + <p> + Two enormous Japanese vases, of purple and gold, three feet each in + diameter, were placed upon the carpet on each side of the toilet, and, + filled with camellias, ibiscures, and cape jasmine, in full flower formed + a sort of grove, diversified with the most brilliant colors. At the + farther end of the apartment, opposite the casement, was to be seen, + surrounded by another mass of flowers, a reduction in white marble of the + enchanting group of Daphnis and Chloe, the more chaste ideal of graceful + modesty and youthful beauty. + </p> + <p> + Two golden lamps burned perfumes upon the same pedestal which supported + those two charming figures. A coffer of frosted silver, set off with small + figures in jewelry and precious stones, and supported on four feet of gilt + bronze, contained various necessaries for the toilette; two frosted + Psyches, decorated with diamond ear-rings; some excellent drawings from + Raphael and Titian, painted by Adrienne herself, consisting of portraits + of both men and women of exquisite beauty; several consoles of oriental + jasper, supporting ewers and basins of silver and of silver gilt, richly + chased and filled with scented waters; a voluptuously rich divan, some + seats, and an illuminated gilt fable, completed the furniture of this + chamber, the atmosphere of which was impregnated with the sweetest + perfumes. + </p> + <p> + Adrienne, whom her attendants had just helped from the bath, was seated + before her toilette, her three women surrounding her. By a caprice, or + rather by a necessary and logical impulse of her soul, filled as it was + with the love of beauty and of harmony in all things, Adrienne had wished + the young women who served her to be very pretty, and be dressed with + attention and with a charming originality. We have already seen Georgette, + a piquante blonde, attired in her attractive costume of an intriguing lady’s + maid of Marivaux; and her two companions were quite equal to her both in + gracefulness and gentility. + </p> + <p> + One of them, named Florine, a tall, delicately slender, and elegant girl, + with the air and form of Diana Huntress, was of a pale brown complexion. + Her thick black hair was turned up behind, where it was fastened with a + long golden pin. Like the two other girls, her arms were uncovered to + facilitate the performance of her duties about and upon the person of her + charming mistress. She wore a dress of that gay green so familiar to the + Venetian painters. Her petticoat was very ample. Her slender waist curved + in from under the plaits of a tucker of white cambric, plaited in five + minute folds, and fastened by five gold buttons. The third of Adrienne’s + women had a face so fresh and ingenuous, a waist so delicate, so pleasing, + and so finished, that her mistress had given her the name of Hebe. Her + dress of a delicate rose color, and Grecian cut, displayed her charming + neck, and her beautiful arms up to the very shoulders. The physiognomy of + these three young women was laughter loving and happy. On their features + there was no expression of that bitter sullenness, willing and hated + obedience, or offensive familiarity, or base and degraded deference, which + are the ordinary results of a state of servitude. In the zealous eagerness + of the cares and attentions which they lavished upon Adrienne, there + seemed to be at least as much of affection as of deference and respect. + They appeared to derive an ardent pleasure from the services which they + rendered to their lovely mistress. One would have thought that they + attached to the dressing and embellishment of her person all the merits + and the enjoyment arising from the execution of a work of art, in the + accomplishing of which, fruitful of delights, they were stimulated by the + passions of love, of pride, and of joy. + </p> + <p> + The sun beamed brightly upon the toilet-case, placed in front of the + window. Adrienne was seated on a chair, its back elevated a little more + than usual. She was enveloped in a long morning-gown of blue silk, + embroidered with a leaf of the same color, which was fitted close to her + waist, as exquisitely slender and delicate as that of a child of twelve + years, by a girdle with floating tags. Her neck, delicately slender and + flexible as a bird’s, was uncovered, as were also her shoulders and + arms, and all were of incomparable beauty. Despite the vulgarity of the + comparison, the purest ivory alone can give an idea of the dazzling + whiteness of her polished satin skin, of a texture so fresh and so firm, + that some drops of water, collected and still remaining about the roots of + her hair from the bath, rolled in serpentine lines over her shoulders, + like pearls, or beads, of crystal, over white marble. + </p> + <p> + And what gave enhanced lustre to this wondrous carnation, known but to + auburn-headed beauties, was the deep purple of her, humid lips,—the + roseate transparency of her small ears, of her dilated nostrils, and her + nails, as bright and glossy, as if they had been varnished. In every spot, + indeed, where her pure arterial blood, full of animation and heat, could + make its way to the skin and shine through the surface, it proclaimed her + high health and the vivid life and joyous buoyancy of her glorious youth. + Her eyes were very large, and of a velvet softness. Now they glanced, + sparkling and shining with comic humor or intelligence and wit; and now + they widened and extended themselves, languishing and swimming between + their double fringes of long crisp eyelashes, of as deep a black as her + finely-drawn and exquisitely arched eyebrows; for, by a delightful freak + of nature, she had black eyebrows and eyelashes to contrast with the + golden red of her hair. Her forehead, small like those of ancient Grecian + statues, formed with the rest of her face a perfect oval. Her nose, + delicately curved, was slightly aquiline; the enamel of her teeth + glistened when the light fell upon them; and her vermeil mouth + voluptuously sensual, seemed to call for sweet kisses, and the gay smiles + and delectations of dainty and delicious pleasure. It is impossible to + behold or to conceive a carriage of the head freer, more noble, or more + elegant than hers; thanks to the great distance which separated the neck + and the ear from their attachment to her outspread and dimpled shoulders. + We have already said that Adrienne was red-haired; but it was the redness + of many of the admirable portraits of women by Titian and Leonardo da + Vinci,—that is to say, molten gold presents not reflections more + delightfully agreeable or more glittering, than the naturally undulating + mass of her very long hair, as soft and fine as silk, so long, that, when + let loose, it reached the floor; in it, she could wholly envelop herself, + like another Venus arising from the sea. At the present moment, Adrienne’s + tresses were ravishing to behold; Georgette, her arms bare, stood behind + her mistress, and had carefully collected into one of her small white + hands, those splendid threads whose naturally ardent brightness was + doubled in the sunshine. When the pretty lady’s-maid pulled a comb + of ivory into the midst of the undulating and golden waves of that + enormously magnificent skein of silk, one might have said that a thousand + sparks of fire darted forth and coruscated away from it in all directions. + The sunshine, too, reflected not less golden and fiery rays from numerous + clusters of spiral ringlets, which, divided upon Adrienne’s + forehead, fell over her cheeks, and in their elastic flexibility caressed + the risings of her snowy bosom, to whose charming undulations they adapted + and applied themselves. Whilst Georgette, standing, combed the beautiful + locks of her mistress, Hebe, with one knee upon the floor, and having upon + the other the sweet little foot of Miss Cardoville, busied herself in + fitting it with a remarkably small shoe of black satin, and crossed its + slender ties over a silk stocking of a pale yet rosy flesh color, which + imprisoned the smallest and finest ankle in the world. Florine, a little + farther back, presented to her mistress, in a jeweled box, a perfumed + paste, with which Adrienne slightly rubbed her dazzling hands and + outspread fingers, which seemed tinted with carmine to their extremities. + Let us not forget Frisky, who, couched in the lap of her mistress, opened + her great eyes with all her might, and seemed to observe the different + operations of Adrienne’s toilette with grave and reflective + attention. A silver bell being sounded from without, Florine, at a sign + from her mistress, went out and presently returned, bearing a letter upon + a small silver-gilt salve. Adrienne, while her women continued fitting on + her shoes, dressing her hair, and arranging her in her habiliments, took + the letter, which was written by the steward of the estate of Cardoville, + and read aloud as follows: + </p> + <p> + “HONORED MADAME, + </p> + <p> + “Knowing your goodness of heart and generosity, I venture to address + you with respectful confidence. During twenty years I served the late + Count and Duke of Cardoville, your noble father, I believe I may truly + say, with probity and zeal. The castle is now sold; so that I and my wife, + in our old age, behold ourselves about to be dismissed, and left destitute + of all resources: which, alas! is very hard at our time of life.” + </p> + <p> + “Poor creature!” said Adrienne, interrupting herself in + reading: “my father, certainly, always prided himself upon their + devotion to him, and their probity.” She continued: + </p> + <p> + “There does, indeed, remain to us a means of retaining our place + here; but it would constrain us to be guilty of baseness; and, be the + consequences to us what they may, neither I nor my wife wish to purchase + our bread at such a price.” + </p> + <p> + “Good, very good,” said Adrienne, “always the same—dignity + even in poverty—it is the sweet perfume of a flower, not the less + sweet because it has bloomed in a meadow.” + </p> + <p> + “In order to explain to you, honored madame, the unworthy task + exacted from us, it is necessary to inform you, in the first place, that + M. Rodin came here from Paris two days ago.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! M. Rodin!” said Mademoiselle de Cardoville, interrupting + herself anew; “the secretary of Abbe d’Aigrigny! I am not at + all surprised at him being engaged in a perfidious or black intrigue. But + let us see.” + </p> + <p> + “M. Rodin came from Paris to announce to us that the estate was + sold, and that he was sure of being able to obtain our continuance in our + place, if we would assist him in imposing a priest not of good character + upon the new proprietress as her future confessor; and if, the better to + attain this end, we would consent to calumniate another priest, a + deserving and excellent man, much loved and much respected in the country. + Even that is not all. I was required to write twice or thrice a week to M. + Rodin, and to relate to him everything that should occur in the house. I + ought to acknowledge, honored madame, that these infamous proposals were + as much as possible disguised and dissimulated under sufficiently specious + pretexts; but, notwithstanding the aspect which with more or less skill it + was attempted to give to the affair, it was precisely and substantially + what I have now had the honor of stating to you.” + </p> + <p> + “Corruption, calumny, and false and treacherous impeachment!” + said Adrienne, with disgust: “I cannot think of such wretches + without involuntarily feeling my mind shocked by dismal ideas of black, + venomous, and vile reptiles, of aspects most hideous indeed. How much more + do I love to dwell upon the consoling thought of honest Dupont and his + wife!” Adrienne proceeded: + </p> + <p> + “Believe me, we hesitated not an instant. We quit Cardoville, which + has been our home for the last twenty years;—but we shall quit it + like honest people, and with the consciousness of our integrity. And now, + honored madame, if, in the brilliant circle in which you move—you, + who are so benevolent and amiable—could find a place for us by your + recommendation, then, with endless gratitude to you, we shall escape from + a position of most cruel embarrassment.” + </p> + <p> + “Surely, surely,” said Adrienne, “they shall not in vain + appeal to me. To wrest excellent persons from the grip of M. Rodin, is not + only a duty but a pleasure: for it is at once a righteous and a dangerous + enterprise; and dearly do I love to brave powerful oppressors!” + Adrienne again went on reading: + </p> + <p> + “After having thus spoken to you of ourselves, honored madame, + permit us to implore your protection for other unfortunates; for it would + be wicked to think only of one’s self. Three days ago, two + shipwrecks took place upon our ironbound coast. A few passengers only were + saved, and were conducted hither, where I and my wife gave them all + necessary attentions. All these passengers have departed for Paris, except + one, who still remains, his wounds having hitherto prevented him from + leaving the house, and, indeed, they will constrain him to remain for some + days to come. He is a young East Indian prince, of about twenty years of + age, and he appears to be as amiable and good as he is handsome, which is + not a little to say, though he has a tawny skin, like the rest of his + countrymen, as I understand.” + </p> + <p> + “An Indian prince! twenty years of age! young, amiable, and + handsome!” exclaimed Adrienne, gayly; “this is quite + delightful, and not at all of an ordinary or vulgar nature! Oh! this + Indian prince has already awakened all my sympathies! But what can I do + with this Adonis from the banks of the Ganges, who has come to wreck + himself upon the Picardy coast?” + </p> + <p> + Adrienne’s three women looked at her with much astonishment, though + they were accustomed to the singular eccentricities of her character. + </p> + <p> + Georgette and Hebe even indulged in discreet and restrained smiles. + Florine, the tall and beautiful pale brown girl, also smiled like her + pretty companions; but it was after a short pause of seeming reflection, + as if she had previously been entirely engrossed in listening to and + recollecting the minutest words of her mistress, who, though powerfully + interested by the situation of the “Adonis from Ganges banks,” + as she had called him, continued to read Dupont’s letter: + </p> + <p> + “One of the countrymen of the Indian prince, who has also remained + to attend upon him, has given me to understand that the youthful prince + has lost in the shipwreck all he possessed, and knows not how to get to + Paris, where his speedy presence is required by some affairs of the very + greatest importance. It is not from the prince himself that I have + obtained this information: no; he appears to be too dignified and proud to + proclaim of his fate: but his countryman, more communicative, + confidentially told me what I have stated, adding, that his young + compatriot has already been subjected to great calamities, and that his + father, who was the sovereign of an Indian kingdom, has been killed by the + English, who have also dispossessed his son of his crown.” + </p> + <p> + “This is very singular,” said Adrienne, thoughtfully. “These + circumstances recall to my mind that my father often mentioned that one of + our relations was espoused in India by a native monarch; and that General + Simon: (whom they have created a marshal) had entered into his service.” + Then interrupting herself to indulge in a smile, she added, “Gracious! + this affair will be quite odd and fantastical! Such things happen to + nobody but me; and then people say that I am the uncommon creature! But it + seems to me that it is not I, but Providence, which, in truth, sometimes + shows itself very eccentric! But let us see if worthy Dupont gives the + name of this handsome prince?” + </p> + <p> + “We trust, honored madame, that you will pardon our boldness: but we + should have thought ourselves very selfish, if, while stating to you our + own griefs, we had not also informed you that there is with us a brave and + estimable prince involved in so much distress. In fine, lady, trust to me; + I am old; and I have had much experience of men; and it was only necessary + to see the nobleness of expression and the sweetness of countenance of + this young Indian, to enable me to judge that he is worthy of the interest + which I have taken the liberty to request in his behalf. It would be + sufficient to transmit to him a small sum of money for the purchase of + some European clothing; for he has lost all his Indian vestments in the + shipwreck.” + </p> + <p> + “Good heavens! European clothing!” exclaimed Adrienne, gayly. + “Poor young prince! Heaven preserve him from that; and me also! + Chance has sent hither from the heart of India, a mortal so far favored as + never to have worn the abominable European costume—those hideous + habits, and frightful hats, which render the men so ridiculous, so ugly, + that in truth there is not a single good quality to be discovered in them, + nor one spark of what can either captivate or attract! There comes to me + at last a handsome young prince from the East, where the men are clothed + in silk and cashmere. Most assuredly I’ll not miss this rare and + unique opportunity of exposing myself to a very serious and formidable + temptation! No, no! not a European dress for me, though poor Dupont + requests it! But the name—the name of this dear prince! Once more, + what a singular event is this! If it should turn out to be that cousin + from beyond the Ganges! During my childhood, I have heard so much in + praise of his royal father! Oh! I shall be quite ravished to give his son + the kind reception which he merits!” And then she read on: + </p> + <p> + “If, besides this small sum, honored madame, you are so kind as to + give him, and also his companion, the means of reaching Paris, you will + confer a very great service upon this poor young prince, who is at present + so unfortunate. + </p> + <p> + “To conclude, I know enough of your delicacy to be aware that it + would perhaps be agreeable to you to afford this succor to the prince + without being known as his benefactress; in which case, I beg that you + will be pleased to command me; and you may rely upon my discretion. If, on + the contrary, you wish to address it directly to himself, his name is, as + it has been written for me by his countrymen, Prince Djalma, son of Radja + sing, King of Mundi.” + </p> + <p> + “Djalma!” said Adrienne, quickly, and appearing to call up her + recollections, “Radja-sing! Yes—that is it! These are the very + names that my father so often repeated, while telling me that there was + nothing more chivalric or heroic in the world than the old king, our + relation by marriage; and the son has not derogated, it would seem, from + that character. Yes, Djalma, Radja-sing—once more, that is it—such + names are not so common,” she added, smiling, “that one should + either forget or confound them with others. This Djalma is my cousin! + Brave and good—young and charming! above all, he has never worn the + horrid European dress! And destitute of every resource! This is quite + ravishing! It is too much happiness at once! Quick, quick let us improvise + a pretty fairy tale, of which the handsome and beloved prince shall be the + hero! The poor bird of the golden and azure plumage has wandered into our + dismal climate; but he will find here, at least, something to remind him + of his native region of sunshine and perfumes!” Then, addressing one + of her women, she said: “Georgette, take paper and write, my child!” + The young girl went to the gilt, illuminated table, which contained + materials for writing; and, having seated herself, she said to her + mistress: “I await orders.” + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:65%;"> + <img src="images/10335m.jpg" alt="10335m " width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/10335.jpg"><i>Original</i></a> + </h5> + <p> + Adrienne de Cardoville, whose charming countenance was radiant with the + gayety of happiness and joy, proceeded to dictate the following letter to + a meritorious old painter, who had long since taught her the arts of + drawing and designing; in which arts she excelled, as indeed she did in + all others: + </p> + <p> + “MY DEAR TITIAN, MY GOOD VERONESE, MY WORTHY RAPHAEL. + </p> + <p> + “You can render me a very great service,—and you will do it, I + am sure, with that perfect and obliging complaisance by which you are ever + distinguished. + </p> + <p> + “It is to go immediately and apply yourself to the skillful hand who + designed my last costumes of the fifteenth century. But the present affair + is to procure modern East Indian dresses for a young man—yes, sir—for + a young man,—and according to what I imagine of him, I fancy that + you can cause his measure to be taken from the Antinous, or rather, from + the Indian Bacchus; yes—that will be more likely. + </p> + <p> + “It is necessary that these vestments be at once of perfect + propriety and correctness, magnificently rich, and of the greatest + elegance. You will choose the most beautiful stuffs possible; and + endeavor, above all things, that they be, or resemble, tissues of Indian + manufacture; and you will add to them, for turbans and sashes, six + splendid long cashmere shawls, two of them white, two red, and two orange; + as nothing suits brown complexions better than those colors. + </p> + <p> + “This done (and I allow you at the utmost only two or three days), + you will depart post in my carriage for Cardoville Manor House, which you + know so well. The steward, the excellent Dupont, one of your old friends, + will there introduce you to a young Indian Prince, named Djalma; and you + will tell that most potent grave, and reverend signior, of another quarter + of the globe, that you have come on the part of an unknown friend, who, + taking upon himself the duty of a brother, sends him what is necessary to + preserve him from the odious fashions of Europe. You will add, that his + friend expects him with so much impatience that he conjures him to come to + Paris immediately. If he objects that he is suffering, you will tell him + that my carriage is an excellent bed-closet; and you will cause the + bedding, etc., which it contains, to be fitted up, till he finds it quite + commodious. Remember to make very humble excuses for the unknown friend + not sending to the prince either rich palanquins, or even, modestly, a + single elephant; for alas! palanquins are only to be seen at the opera; + and there are no elephants but those in the menagerie,—though this + must make us seem strangely barbarous in his eyes. + </p> + <p> + “As soon as you shall have decided on your departure, perform the + journey as rapidly as possible, and bring here, into my house, in the Rue + de Babylone (what predestination! that I should dwell in the street of + BABYLON,—a name which must at least accord with the ear of an + Oriental),—you will bring hither, I say, this dear prince, who is so + happy as to have been born in a country of flowers, diamonds, and sun! + </p> + <p> + “Above all, you will have the kindness, my old and worthy friend, + not to be at all astonished at this new freak, and refrain from indulging + in extravagant conjectures. Seriously, the choice which I have made of you + in this affair,—of you, whom I esteem and most sincerely honor,—is + because it is sufficient to say to you that, at the bottom of all this, + there is something more than a seeming act of folly.” + </p> + <p> + In uttering these last words, the tone of Adrienne was as serious and + dignified as it had been previously comic and jocose. But she quickly + resumed, more gayly, dictating to Georgette. + </p> + <p> + “Adieu, my old friend. I am something like that commander of ancient + days, whose heroic nose and conquering chin you have so often made me + draw: I jest with the utmost freedom of spirit even in the moment of + battle: yes, for within an hour I shall give battle, a pitched battle—to + my dear pew-dwelling aunt. Fortunately, audacity and courage never failed + me, and I burn with impatience for the engagement with my austere + princess. + </p> + <p> + “A kiss, and a thousand heartfelt recollections to your excellent + wife. If I speak of her here, who is so justly respected, you will please + to understand, it is to make you quite at ease as to the consequences of + this running away with, for my sake, a charming young prince,—for it + is proper to finish well where I should have begun, by avowing to you that + he is charming indeed! + </p> + <p> + “Once more, adieu!” + </p> + <p> + Then, addressing Georgette, said she, “Have you done writing, chit?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, madame.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, add this postscript.” + </p> + <p> + “P.S.—I send you draft on sight on my banker for all expenses. + Spare nothing. You know I am quite a grand seigneur. I must use this + masculine expression, since your sex have exclusively appropriated to + yourselves (tyrants as you are) a term, so significant as it is of noble + generosity.” + </p> + <p> + “Now, Georgette,” said Adrienne; “bring me an envelope, + and the letter, that I may sign it.” Mademoiselle de Cardoville took + the pen that Georgette presented to her, signed the letter, and enclosed + in it an order upon her banker, which was expressed thus: + </p> + <p> + “Please pay M. Norval, on demand without grace, the sum of money he + may require for expenses incurred on my account. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “ADRIENNE DE CARDOVILLE.” + </pre> + <p> + During all this scene, while Georgette wrote, Florine and Hebe had + continued to busy themselves with the duties of their mistress’s + toilette, who had put off her morning gown, and was now in full dress, in + order to wait upon the princess, her aunt. From the sustained and + immovably fixed attention with which Florine had listened to Adrienne’s + dictating to Georgette her letter to M. Norval, it might easily have been + seen that, as was her habit indeed, she endeavored to retain in her memory + even the slightest words of her mistress. + </p> + <p> + “Now, chit,” said Adrienne to Hebe, “send this letter + immediately to M. Norval.” + </p> + <p> + The same silver bell was again rung from without. Hebe moved towards the + door of the dressing-room, to go and inquire what it was, and also to + execute the order of her mistress as to the letter. But Florine + precipitated herself, so to speak, before her, and so as to prevent her + leaving the apartment; and said to Adrienne: + </p> + <p> + “Will it please my lady for me to send this letter? I have occasion + to go to the mansion.” + </p> + <p> + “Go, Florine, then,” said Adrienne, “seeing that you + wish it. Georgette, seal the letter.” + </p> + <p> + At the end of a second or two, during which Georgette had sealed the + letter, Hebe returned. + </p> + <p> + “Madame,” said she, re-entering, “the working-man who + brought back Frisky yesterday, entreats you to admit him for an instant. + He is very pale, and he appears quite sad.” + </p> + <p> + “Would that he may already have need of me! I should be too happy!” + said Adrienne gayly. “Show the excellent young man into the little + saloon. And, Florine, despatch this letter immediately.” + </p> + <p> + Florine went out. Miss de Cardoville, followed by Frisky, entered the + little reception-room, where Agricola awaited her. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0035" id="link2HCH0035"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXXV. THE INTERVIEW. + </h2> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">W</span>hen Adrienne de + Cardoville entered the saloon where Agricola expected her, she was dressed + with extremely elegant simplicity. A robe of deep blue, perfectly fitted + to her shape, embroidered in front with interlacings of black silk, + according to the then fashion, outlined her nymph-like figure, and her + rounded bosom. A French cambric collar, fastened by a large Scotch pebble, + set as a brooch, served her for a necklace. Her magnificent golden hair + formed a framework for her fair countenance, with an incredible profusion + of long and light spiral tresses, which reached nearly to her waist. + </p> + <p> + Agricola, in order to save explanations with his father, and to make him + believe that he had indeed gone to the workshop of M. Hardy, had been + obliged to array himself in his working dress; he had put on a new blouse + though, and the collar of his shirt, of stout linen, very white, fell over + upon a black cravat, negligently tied; his gray trousers allowed his well + polished boots to be seen; and he held between his muscular hands a cap of + fine woolen cloth, quite new. To sum up, his blue blouse, embroidered with + red, showing off the nervous chest of the young blacksmith, and indicating + his robust shoulders, falling down in graceful folds, put not the least + constraint upon his free and easy gait, and became him much better than + either frock-coat or dress-coat would have done. While awaiting Miss de + Cardoville, Agricola mechanically examined a magnificent silver vase, + admirably graven. A small tablet, of the same metal, fitted into a cavity + of its antique stand, bore the words—“Chased by JEAN MARIE, + working chaser, 1831.” + </p> + <p> + Adrienne had stepped so lightly upon the carpet of her saloon, only + separated from another apartment by the doors, that Agricola had not + perceived the young lady’s entrance. He started, and turned quickly + round, upon hearing a silver and brilliant voice say to him-“That is + a beautiful vase, is it not, sir?” + </p> + <p> + “Very beautiful, madame,” answered Agricola greatly + embarrassed. + </p> + <p> + “You may see from it that I like what is equitable.” added + Miss de Cardoville, pointing with her finger to the little silver tablet;—“an + artist puts his name upon his painting; an author publishes his on the + title-page of his book; and I contend that an artisan ought also to have + his name connected with his workmanship.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, madame, so this name?” + </p> + <p> + “Is that of the poor chaser who executed this masterpiece, at the + order of a rich goldsmith. When the latter sold me the vase, he was amazed + at my eccentricity, he would have almost said at my injustice, when, after + having made him tell me the name of the author of this production, I + ordered his name to be inscribed upon it, instead of that of the + goldsmith, which had already been affixed to the stand. In the absence of + the rich profits, let the artisan enjoy the fame of his skill. Is it not + just, sir?” + </p> + <p> + It would have been impossible for Adrienne to commence the conversation + more graciously: so that the blacksmith, already beginning to feel a + little more at ease, answered: + </p> + <p> + “Being a mechanic myself, madame, I cannot but be doubly affected by + such a proof of your sense of equity and justice.” + </p> + <p> + “Since you are a mechanic, sir,” resumed Adrienne, “I + cannot but felicitate myself on having so suitable a hearer. But please to + be seated.” + </p> + <p> + With a gesture full of affability, she pointed to an armchair of purple + silk embroidered with gold, sitting down herself upon a tete-a-tete of the + same materials. + </p> + <p> + Seeing Agricola’s hesitation, who again cast down his eyes with + embarrassment, Adrienne, to encourage him, showed him Frisky, and said to + him gayly: “This poor little animal, to which I am very much + attached, will always afford me a lively remembrance of your obliging + complaisance, sir. And this visit seems to me to be of happy augury; I + know not what good presentiment whispers to me, that perhaps I shall have + the pleasure of being useful to you in some affair.” + </p> + <p> + “Madame,” said Agricola, resolutely, “my name is + Baudoin: a blacksmith in the employment of M. Hardy, at Pressy, near the + city. Yesterday you offered me your purse and I refused it: to-day, I have + come to request of you perhaps ten or twenty times the sum that you had + generously proposed. I have said thus much all at once, madame, because it + causes me the greatest effort. The words blistered my lips, but now I + shall be more at ease.” + </p> + <p> + “I appreciate the delicacy of your scruples, sir,” said + Adrienne; “but if you knew me, you would address me without fear. + How much do you require?” + </p> + <p> + “I do not know, madame,” answered Agricola. + </p> + <p> + “I beg your pardon. You don’t know what sum?” + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:65%;"> + <img src="images/10341m.jpg" alt="10341m " width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/10341.jpg"><i>Original</i></a> + </h5> + <p> + “No madame; and I come to you to request, not only the sum necessary + to me, but also information as to what that sum is.” + </p> + <p> + “Let us see, sir,” said Adrienne, smiling, “explain this + to me. In spite of my good will, you feel that I cannot divine, all at + once, what it is that is required.” + </p> + <p> + “Madame, in two words, I can state the truth. I have a food old + mother, who in her youth, broke her health by excessive labor, to enable + her to bring me up; and not only me, but a poor abandoned child whom she + had picked up. It is my turn now to maintain her; and that I have the + happiness of doing. But in order to do so, I have only my labor. If I am + dragged from my employment, my mother will be without support.” + </p> + <p> + “Your mother cannot want for anything now, sir, since I interest + myself for her.” + </p> + <p> + “You will interest yourself for her, madame?” said Agricola. + </p> + <p> + “Certainly,” replied Adrienne. + </p> + <p> + “But you don’t know her,” exclaimed the blacksmith. + </p> + <p> + “Now I do; yes.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, madame!” said Agricola, with emotion, after a moment’s + silence. “I understand you. But indeed you have a noble heart. + Mother Bunch was right.” + </p> + <p> + “Mother Bunch?” said Adrienne, looking at Agricola with a very + surprised air; for what he said to her was an enigma. + </p> + <p> + The blacksmith, who blushed not for his friends, replied frankly. + </p> + <p> + “Madame, permit me to explain, to you. Mother Bunch is a poor and + very industrious young workwoman, with whom I have been brought up. She is + deformed, which is the reason why she is called Mother Bunch. But though, + on the one hand, she is sunk, as low as you are highly elevated on the + other, yet as regards the heart—as to delicacy—oh, lady, I am + certain that your heart is of equal worth with hers! That was at once her + own thought, after I had related to her in what manner, yesterday, you had + presented me with that beautiful flower.” + </p> + <p> + “I can assure you, sir,” said Adrienne, sincerely touched, + “that this comparison flatters and honors me more than anything else + that you could say to me,—a heart that remains good and delicate, in + spite of cruel misfortunes, is so rare a treasure; while it is very easy + to be good, when we have youth and beauty, and to be delicate and + generous, when we are rich. I accept, then, your comparison; but on + condition that you will quickly put me in a situation to deserve it. Pray + go on, therefore.” + </p> + <p> + In spite of the gracious cordiality of Miss de Cardoville, there was + always observable in her so much of that natural dignity which arises from + independence of character, so much elevation of soul and nobleness of + sentiment that Agricola, forgetting the ideal physical beauty of his + protectress, rather experienced for her the emotions of an affectionate + and kindly, though profound respect, which offered a singular and striking + contrast with the youth and gayety of the lovely being who inspired him + with this sentiment. + </p> + <p> + “If my mother alone, madame, were exposed to the rigor which I + dread. I should not be so greatly disquieted with the fear of a compulsory + suspension of my employment. Among poor people, the poor help one another; + and my mother is worshipped by all the inmates of our house, our excellent + neighbors, who would willingly succor her. But, they themselves are far + from being well off; and as they would incur privations by assisting her, + their little benefit would still be more painful to my mother than the + endurance even of misery by herself. And besides, it is not only for my + mother that my exertions are required, but for my father, whom we have not + seen for eighteen years, and who has just arrived from Siberia, where he + remained during all that time, from zealous devotion to his former + general, now Marshal Simon.” + </p> + <p> + “Marshal Simon!” said Adrienne, quickly, with an expression of + much surprise. + </p> + <p> + “Do you know the marshal, madame?” + </p> + <p> + “I do not personally know him, but he married a lady of our family.” + </p> + <p> + “What joy!” exclaimed the blacksmith, “then the two + young ladies, his daughters, whom my father has brought from Russia, are + your relations!” + </p> + <p> + “Has Marshal Simon two daughters?” asked Adrienne, more and + more astonished and interested. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, madame, two little angels of fifteen or sixteen, and so + pretty, so sweet; they are twins so very much alike, as to be mistaken for + one another. Their mother died in exile; and the little she possessed + having been confiscated, they have come hither with my father, from the + depths of Siberia, travelling very wretchedly; but he tried to make them + forget so many privations by the fervency of his devotion and his + tenderness. My excellent father! you will not believe, madame, that, with + the courage of a lion, he has all the love and tenderness of a mother.” + </p> + <p> + “And where are the dear children, sir?” asked Adrienne. + </p> + <p> + “At our home, madame. It is that which renders my position so very + hard; that which has given me courage to come to you; it is not but that + my labor would be sufficient for our little household, even thus + augmented; but that I am about to be arrested.” + </p> + <p> + “About to be arrested? For what?” + </p> + <p> + “Pray, madame, have the goodness to read this letter, which has been + sent by some one to Mother Bunch.” + </p> + <p> + Agricola gave to Miss de Cardoville the anonymous letter which had been + received by the workwoman. + </p> + <p> + After having read the letter, Adrienne said to the blacksmith, with + surprise, “It appears, sir, you are a poet!” + </p> + <p> + “I have neither the ambition nor the pretension to be one, madame. + Only, when I return to my mother after a day’s toil, and often, even + while forging my iron, in order to divert and relax my attention, I amuse + myself with rhymes, sometimes composing an ode, sometimes a song.” + </p> + <p> + “And your song of the Freed Workman, which is mentioned in this + letter, is, therefore, very disaffected—very dangerous?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no, madame; quite the contrary. For myself, I have the good + fortune to be employed in the factory of M. Hardy, who renders the + condition of his workpeople as happy as that of their less fortunate + comrades is the reverse; and I had limited myself to attempt, in favor of + the great mass of the working classes, an equitable, sincere, warm, and + earnest claim—nothing more. But you are aware, perhaps, Madame, that + in times of conspiracy, and commotion, people are often incriminated and + imprisoned on very slight grounds. Should such a misfortune befall me, + what will become of my mother, my father, and the two orphans whom we are + bound to regard as part of our family until the return of their father, + Marshal Simon? It is on this account, madame, that, if I remain, I run the + risk of being arrested. I have come to you to request you to provide + surety for me; so that I should not be compelled to exchange the workshop + for the prison, in which case I can answer for it that the fruits of my + labor will suffice for all.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank the stars!” said Adrienne, gayly, “this affair + will arrange itself quite easily. Henceforth, Mr. Poet, you shall draw + your inspirations in the midst of good fortune instead of adversity. Sad + muse! But first of all, bonds shall be given for you.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, madame, you have saved us!” + </p> + <p> + “To continue,” said Adrienne, “the physician of our + family is intimately connected with a very important minister (understand + that, as you like,” said she, smiling, “you will not deceive + yourself much). The doctor exercises very great influence over this great + statesman; for he has always had the happiness of recommending to him, on + account of his health; the sweets and repose of private life, to the very + eve of the day on which his portfolio was taken from him. Keep yourself, + then, perfectly at ease. If the surety be insufficient, we shall be able + to devise some other means. + </p> + <p> + “Madame,” said Agricola, with great emotion, “I am + indebted to you for the repose, perhaps for the life of my mother. Believe + that I shall ever be grateful.” + </p> + <p> + “That is all quite simple. Now for another thing. It is proper that + those who have too much should have the right of coming to the aid of + those who have too little. Marshal Simon’s daughters are members of + my family, and they will reside here with me, which will be more suitable. + You will apprise your worthy mother of this; and in the evening, besides + going to thank her for the hospitality which she has shown to my young + relations, I shall fetch them home.” + </p> + <p> + At this moment Georgette, throwing open the door which separated the room + from an adjacent apartment, hurriedly entered, with an affrighted look, + exclaiming: + </p> + <p> + “Oh, madame, something extraordinary is going on in the street.” + </p> + <p> + “How so? Explain yourself,” said Adrienne. + </p> + <p> + “I went to conduct my dressmaker to the little garden-gate,” + said Georgette; “where I saw some ill-looking men, attentively + examining the walls and windows of the little out-building belonging to + the pavilion, as if they wished to spy out some one.” + </p> + <p> + “Madame,” said Agricola, with chagrin, “I have not been + deceived. They are after me.” + </p> + <p> + “What say you?” + </p> + <p> + “I thought I was followed, from the moment when I left the Rue St. + Merry: and now it is beyond doubt. They must have seen me enter your + house; and are on the watch to arrest me. Well, now that your interest has + been acquired for my mother,—now that I have no farther uneasiness + for Marshal Simon’s daughters,—rather than hazard your + exposure to anything the least unpleasant, I run to deliver myself up.” + </p> + <p> + “Beware of that sir,” said Adrienne, quickly. “Liberty + is too precious to be voluntarily sacrificed. Besides, Georgette may have + been mistaken. But in any case, I entreat you not to surrender yourself. + Take my advice, and escape being arrested. That, I think, will greatly + facilitate my measures; for I am of opinion that justice evinces a great + desire to keep possession of those upon whom she has once pounced.” + </p> + <p> + “Madame,” said Hebe, now also entering with a terrified look, + “a man knocked at the little door, and inquired if a young man in a + blue blouse has not entered here. He added, that the person whom he seeks + is named Agricola Baudoin, and that he has something to tell him of great + importance.” + </p> + <p> + “That’s my name,” said Agricola; “but the + important information is a trick to draw me out.” + </p> + <p> + “Evidently,” said Adrienne; “and therefore we must play + off trick for trick. What did you answer, child?” added she, + addressing herself to Hebe. + </p> + <p> + “I answered, that I didn’t know what he was talking about.” + </p> + <p> + “Quite right,” said Adrienne: “and the man who put the + question?” + </p> + <p> + “He went away, madame.” + </p> + <p> + “Without doubt to come back again, soon,” said Agricola. + </p> + <p> + “That is very probable,” said Adrienne, “and therefore, + sir, it is necessary for you to remain here some hours with resignation. I + am unfortunately obliged to go immediately to the Princess Saint-Dizier, + my aunt, for an important interview, which can no longer be delayed, and + is rendered more pressing still by what you have told me concerning the + daughters of Marshal Simon. Remain here, then, sir; since if you go out, + you will certainly be arrested.” + </p> + <p> + “Madame, pardon my refusal; but I must say once more that I ought + not to accept this generous offer.” + </p> + <p> + “Why?” + </p> + <p> + “They have tried to draw me out, in order to avoid penetrating with + the power of the law into your dwelling but if I go not out, they will + come in; and never will I expose you to anything so disagreeable. Now that + I am no longer uneasy about my mother, what signifies prison?” + </p> + <p> + “And the grief that your mother will feel, her uneasiness, and her + fears,—nothing? Think of your father; and that poor work-woman who + loves you as a brother, and whom I value as a sister;—say, sir, do + you forget them also? Believe me, it is better to spare those torments to + your family. Remain here; and before the evening I am certain, either by + giving surety, or some other means, of delivering you from these + annoyances.” + </p> + <p> + “But, madame, supposing that I do accept your generous offer, they + will come and find me here.” + </p> + <p> + “Not at all. There is in this pavilion, which was formerly the abode + of a nobleman’s left-handed wife,—you see, sir,” said + Adrienne, smiling, “that live in a very profane place—there is + here a secret place of concealment, so wonderfully well-contrived, that it + can defy all searches. Georgette will conduct you to it. You will be very + well accommodated. You will even be able to write some verses for me, if + the place inspire you.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, madame! how great is your goodness! how have I merited it?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, sir, I will tell you. Admitting that your character and your + position do not entitle you to any interest;—admitting that I may + not owe a sacred debt to your father for the touching regards and cares he + has bestowed upon the daughters of Marshal Simon, my relations—do + you forget Frisky, sir?” asked Adrienne, laughing,—“Frisky, + there, whom you have restored to my fondles? Seriously, if I laugh,” + continued this singular and extravagant creature, “it is because I + know that you are entirely out of danger, and that I feel an increase of + happiness. Therefore, sir, write for me quickly your address, and your + mother’s, in this pocket-book; follow Georgette; and spin me some + pretty verses, if you do not bore yourself too much in that prison to + which you fly.” + </p> + <p> + While Georgette conducted the blacksmith to the hiding-place, Hebe brought + her mistress a small gray beaver hat with a gray feather; for Adrienne had + to cross the park to reach the house occupied by the Princess + Saint-Dizier. + </p> + <p> + A quarter of an hour after this scene, Florine entered mysteriously the + apartment of Mrs. Grivois, the first woman of the princess. + </p> + <p> + “Well?” demanded Mrs. Grivois of the young woman. + </p> + <p> + “Here are the notes which I have taken this morning,” said + Florine, putting a paper into the duenna’s hand. “Happily, I + have a good memory.” + </p> + <p> + “At what time exactly did she return home this morning?” asked + the duenna, quickly. + </p> + <p> + “Who, madame?” + </p> + <p> + “Miss Adrienne.” + </p> + <p> + “She did not go out, madame. We put her in the bath at nine o’clock.” + </p> + <p> + “But before nine o’clock she came home, after having passed + the night out of her house. Eight o’clock was the time at which she + returned, however.” + </p> + <p> + Florine looked at Mrs. Grivois with profound astonishment, and said-“I + do not understand you, madame.” + </p> + <p> + “What’s that? Madame did not come home this morning at eight o’clock? + Dare you lie?” + </p> + <p> + “I was ill yesterday, and did not come down till nine this morning, + in order to assist Georgette and Hebe help our young lady from the bath. I + know nothing of what passed previously, I swear to you, madame.” + </p> + <p> + “That alters the case. You must ferret out what I allude to from + your companions. They don’t distrust you, and will tell you all.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, madame.” + </p> + <p> + “What has your mistress done this morning since you saw her?” + </p> + <p> + “Madame dictated a letter to Georgette for M. Norval, I requested + permission to send it off, as a pretext for going out, and for writing + down all I recollected.” + </p> + <p> + “Very well. And this letter?” + </p> + <p> + “Jerome had to go out, and I gave it him to put in the post-office.” + </p> + <p> + “Idiot!” exclaimed Mrs. Grivois: “couldn’t you + bring it to me?” + </p> + <p> + “But, as madame dictated it aloud to Georgette, as is her custom, I + knew the contents of the letter; and I have written it in my notes.” + </p> + <p> + “That’s not the same thing. It is likely there was need to + delay sending off this letter; the princess will be very much displeased.” + </p> + <p> + “I thought I did right, madame.” + </p> + <p> + “I know that it is not good will that fails you. For these six + months I have been satisfied with you. But this time you have committed a + very great mistake.” + </p> + <p> + “Be indulgent, madame! what I do is sufficiently painful!” The + girl stifled a sigh. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Grivois looked fixedly at her, and said in a sardonic tone: + </p> + <p> + “Very well, my dear, do not continue it. If you have scruples, you + are free. Go your way.” + </p> + <p> + “You well know that I am not free, madame,” said Florine, + reddening; and with tears in her eyes she added: “I am dependent + upon M. Rodin, who placed me here.” + </p> + <p> + “Wherefore these regrets, then?” + </p> + <p> + “In spite of one’s self, one feels remorse. Madame is so good, + and so confiding.” + </p> + <p> + “She is all perfection, certainly! But you are not here to sing her + praises. What occurred afterwards?” + </p> + <p> + “The working-man who yesterday found and brought back Frisky, came + early this morning and requested permission to speak with my young lady.” + </p> + <p> + “And is this working-man still in her house?” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t know. He came in when I was going out with the + letter.” + </p> + <p> + “You must contrive to learn what it was this workingman came about.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, madame.” + </p> + <p> + “Has your mistress seemed preoccupied, uneasy, or afraid of the + interview which she is to have to-day with the princess? She conceals so + little of what she thinks, that you ought to know.” + </p> + <p> + “She has been as gay as usual. She has even jested about the + interview!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! jested, has she?” said the tire-woman, muttering between + her teeth, without Florine being able to hear her: “‘They + laugh most who laugh last.’ In spite of her audacious and diabolical + character, she would tremble, and would pray for mercy, if she knew what + awaits her this day.” Then addressing Florine, she continued-“Return, + and keep yourself, I advise you, from those fine scruples, which will be + quite enough to do you a bad turn. Do not forget!” + </p> + <p> + “I cannot forget that I belong not to myself, madame.” + </p> + <p> + “Anyway, let it be so. Farewell.” + </p> + <p> + Florine quitted the mansion and crossed the park to regain the summer + house, while Mrs Grivois went immediately to the Princess Saint-Dizier. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0042" id="link2H_4_0042"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + BOOK III. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + XXXVI. A Female Jesuit XXXVII. The Plot XXXVIII. Adrienne’s + Enemies XXXIX. The Skirmish XL. The Revolt XLI. Treachery + XLII. The Snare XLIII. A False Friend XLIV. The Minister’s + Cabinet XLV. The Visit XLVI. Presentiments XLVII. The Letter + XLVIII. The Confessional XLIX. My Lord and Spoil-sport L. + Appearances LI. The Convent LII. The Influence of a + Confessor LIII. The Examination +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0036" id="link2HCH0036"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXXVI. A FEMALE JESUIT. + </h2> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">D</span>uring the + preceding scenes which occurred in the Pompadour rotunda, occupied by Miss + de Cardoville, other events took place in the residence of the Princess + Saint-Dizier. The elegance and sumptuousness of the former dwelling + presented a strong contrast to the gloomy interior of the latter, the + first floor of which was inhabited by the princess, for the plan of the + ground floor rendered it only fit for giving parties; and, for a long time + past, Madame de Saint-Dizier had renounced all worldly splendors. The + gravity of her domestics, all aged and dressed in black; the profound + silence which reigned in her abode, where everything was spoken, if it + could be called speaking, in an undertone; and the almost monastic + regularity and order of this immense mansion, communicated to everything + around the princess a sad and chilling character. A man of the world, who + joined great courage to rare independence of spirit, speaking of the + princess (to whom Adrienne de Cardoville went, according to her + expression, to fight a pitched battle), said of her as follows: “In + order to avoid having Madame de Saint-Dizier for an enemy, I, who am + neither bashful nor cowardly, have, for the first time in my life, been + both a noodle and a coward.” This man spoke sincerely. But Madame de + Saint-Dizier had not all at once arrived at this high degree of + importance. + </p> + <p> + Some words are necessary for the purpose of exhibiting distinctly some + phases in the life of this dangerous and implacable woman who, by her + affiliation with the Order of Jesuits, had acquired an occult and + formidable power. For there is something even more menacing than a Jesuit: + it is a Jesuits; and, when one has seen certain circles, it becomes + evident that there exist, unhappily, many of those affiliated, who, more + or less, uniformly dress (for the lay members of the Order call themselves + “Jesuits of the short robe”). + </p> + <p> + Madame de Saint-Dizier, once very beautiful, had been, during the last + years of the Empire, and the early years of the Restoration, one of the + most fashionable women of Paris, of a stirring, active, adventurous, and + commanding spirit, of cold heart, but lively imagination. She was greatly + given to amorous adventures, not from tenderness of heart, but from a + passion for intrigue, which she loved as men love play—for the sake + of the emotions it excites. Unhappily, such had always been the blindness + or the carelessness of her husband, the Prince of Saint-Dizier (eldest + brother of the Count of Rennepont and Duke of Cardoville, father of + Adrienne), that during his life he had never said one word that could make + it be thought that he suspected the actions of his wife. Attaching herself + to Napoleon, to dig a mine under the feet of the Colossus, that design at + least afforded emotions sufficient to gratify the humor of the most + insatiable. During some time, all went well. The princess was beautiful + and spirited, dexterous and false, perfidious and seductive. She was + surrounded by fanatical adorers, upon whom she played off a kind of + ferocious coquetry, to induce them to run their heads into grave + conspiracies. They hoped to resuscitate the Fonder party, and carried on a + very active secret correspondence with some influential personages abroad, + well known for their hatred against the emperor and France. Hence arose + her first epistolary relations with the Marquis d’Aigrigny, then + colonel in the Russian service and aide-de-camp to General Moreau. But one + day all these petty intrigues were discovered. Many knights of Madame de + Saint-Dizier were sent to Vincennes; but the emperor, who might have + punished her terribly, contented himself with exiling the princess to one + of her estates near Dunkirk. + </p> + <p> + Upon the Restoration, the persecutions which Madame de Saint-Dizier had + suffered for the Good Cause were entered to her credit, and she acquired + even then very considerable influence, in spite of the lightness of her + behavior. The Marquis d’Aigrigny, having entered the military + service of France, remained there. He was handsome, and of fashionable + manners and address. He had corresponded and conspired with the princess, + without knowing her; and these circumstances necessarily led to a close + connection between them. + </p> + <p> + Excessive self-love, a taste for exciting pleasures, aspirations of + hatred, pride, and lordliness, a species of evil sympathy, the perfidious + attraction of which brings together perverse natures without mingling + them, had made of the princess and the Marquis accomplices rather than + lovers. This connection, based upon selfish and bitter feelings, and upon + the support which two characters of this dangerous temper could lend to + each other against a world in which their spirit of intrigue, of + gallantry, and of contempt had made them many enemies, this connection + endured till the moment when, after his duel with General Simon, the + Marquis entered a religious house, without any one understanding the cause + of his unexpected and sudden resolution. + </p> + <p> + The princess, having not yet heard the hour of her conversion strike, + continued to whirl round the vortex of the world with a greedy, jealous, + and hateful ardor, for she saw that the last years of her beauty were + dying out. + </p> + <p> + An estimate of the character of this woman may be formed from the + following fact: + </p> + <p> + Still very agreeable, she wished to close her worldly and volatile career + with some brilliant and final triumph, as a great actress knows the proper + time to withdraw from the stage so as to leave regrets behind. Desirous of + offering up this final incense to her own vanity, the princess skillfully + selected her victims. She spied out in the world a young couple who + idolized each other; and, by dint of cunning and address, she succeeded in + taking away the lover from his mistress, a charming woman of eighteen, by + whom he was adored. This triumph being achieved, Madame Saint-Dizier + retired from the fashionable world in the full blaze of her exploit. After + many long conversations with the Abbe Marquis d’Aigrigny, who had + become a renowned preacher, she departed suddenly from Paris, and spent + two years upon her estate near Dunkirk, to which she took only one of her + female attendants, viz., Mrs. Grivois. + </p> + <p> + When the princess afterwards returned to Paris, it was impossible to + recognize the frivolous, intriguing, and dissipated woman she had formerly + been. The metamorphosis was as complete as it was extraordinary and even + startling. Saint-Dizier House, heretofore open to the banquets and + festivals of every kind of pleasure, became gloomily silent and austere. + Instead of the world of elegance and fashion, the princess now received in + her mansion only women of ostentatious piety, and men of consequence, who + were remarkably exemplary by the extravagant rigor of their religious and + monarchial principles. Above all, she drew around her several noted + members of the higher orders of the clergy. She was appointed patroness of + a body of religious females. She had her own confessor, chaplin, almoner, + and even spiritual director; but this last performed his functions in + partibus. The Marquis-Abbe d’Aigrigny continued in reality to be her + spiritual guide; and it is almost unnecessary to say that for a long time + past their mutual relations as to flirting had entirely ceased. + </p> + <p> + This sudden and complete conversion of a gay and distinguished woman, + especially as it was loudly trumpeted forth, struck the greater number of + persons with wonder and respect. Others, more discerning, only smiled. + </p> + <p> + A single anecdote, from amongst a thousand, will suffice to show the + alarming influence and power which the princess had acquired since her + affiliation with the Jesuits. This anecdote will also exhibit the deep, + vindictive, and pitiless character of this woman, whom Adrienne de + Cardoville had so imprudently made herself ready to brave. + </p> + <p> + Amongst the persons who smiled more or less at the conversion of Madame de + Saint-Dizier were the young and charming couple whom she had so cruelly + disunited before she quitted forever the scenes of revelry in which she + had lived. The young couple became more impassioned and devoted to each + other than ever; they were reconciled and married, after the passing storm + which had hurled them asunder; and they indulged in no other vengeance + against the author of their temporary infelicity than that of mildly + jesting at the pious conversion of the woman who had done them so much + injury. + </p> + <p> + Some time after, a terrible fatality overtook the loving pair. The + husband, until then blindly unsuspicious, was suddenly inflamed by + anonymous communications. A dreadful rupture ensued, and the young wife + perished. + </p> + <p> + As for the husband, certain vague rumors, far from distinct, yet pregnant + with secret meanings, perfidiously contrived, and a thousand times more + detestable than formal accusations, which can, at least, be met and + destroyed, were strewn about him with so much perseverance, with a skill + so diabolical, and by means and ways so very various, that his best + friends, by little and little, withdrew themselves from him, thus yielding + to the slow, irresistible influence of that incessant whispering and + buzzing, confused as indistinct, amounting to some such results as this-“Well! + you know!” says one. + </p> + <p> + “No!” replies another. + </p> + <p> + “People say very vile things about him.” + </p> + <p> + “Do they? really! What then?” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t know! Bad reports! Rumors grievously affecting his + honor!” + </p> + <p> + “The deuce! That’s very serious. It accounts for the coldness + with which he is now everywhere received!” + </p> + <p> + “I shall avoid him in future!” + </p> + <p> + “So will I,” etc. + </p> + <p> + Such is the world, that very often nothing more than groundless surmises + are necessary to brand a man whose very, happiness may have incurred envy. + So it was with the gentleman of whom we speak. The unfortunate man, seeing + the void around him extending itself,—feeling (so to speak) the + earth crumbling from beneath his feet, knew not where to find or grasp the + impalpable enemy whose blows he felt; for not once had the idea occurred + to him of suspecting the princess, whom he had not seen since his + adventure with her. Anxiously desiring to learn why he was so much shunned + and despised, he at length sought an explanation from an old friend; but + he received only a disdainfully evasive answer; at which, being + exasperated, he demanded satisfaction. His adversary replied—“If + you can find two persons of our acquaintance, I will fight you!” The + unhappy man could not find one! + </p> + <p> + Finally, forsaken by all, without having ever obtained an explanation of + the reason for forsaking him—suffering keenly for the fate of the + wife whom he had lost, he became mad with grief, rage, and despair, and + killed himself. + </p> + <p> + On the day of his death, Madame de Saint-Dizier remarked that it was fit + and necessary that one who had lived so shamefully should come to an + equally shameful end, and that he who had so long jested at all laws, + human and divine, could not seemly otherwise terminate his wretched life + than by perpetrating a last crime—suicide! And the friends of Madame + de Saint-Dizier hawked about and everywhere repeated these terrible words + with a contrite air, as if beatified and convinced! But this was not all. + Along with chastisements there were rewards. + </p> + <p> + Observant people remarked that the favorites of the religious clan of + Madame de Saint-Dizier rose to high distinction with singular rapidity. + The virtuous young men, such as were religiously attentive to tiresome + sermons, were married to rich orphans of the Sacred Heart Convents, who + were held in reserve for the purpose; poor young girls, who, learning too + late what it is to have a pious husband selected and imposed upon them by + a set of devotees, often expiated by very bitter tears the deceitful favor + of thus being admitted into a world of hypocrisy and falsehood, in which + they found themselves strangers without support, crushed by it if they + dared to complain of the marriages to which they had been condemned. + </p> + <p> + In the parlor of Madame de Saint-Dizier were appointed prefects, colonels, + treasurers, deputies, academicians, bishops and peers of the realm, from + whom nothing more was required in return for the all-powerful support + bestowed upon them, but to wear a pious gloss, sometimes publicly take the + communion, swear furious war against everything impious or revolutionary,—and + above all, correspond confidentially upon “different subjects of his + choosing” with the Abbe d’Aigrigny,—an amusement, + moreover, which was very agreeable; for the abbe was the most amiable man + in the world, the most witty, and above all, the most obliging. The + following is an historical fact, which requires the bitter and vengeful + irony of Moliere or Pascal to do it justice. + </p> + <p> + During the last year of the Restoration, there was one of the mighty + dignitaries of the court a firm and independent man, who did not make + profession (as the holy fathers call it), that is, who did not communicate + at the altar. The splendor amid which he moved was calculated to give the + weight of a very injurious example to his indifference. The Abbe-Marquis d’Aigrigny + was therefore despatched to him; and he knowing the honorable and elevated + character of the non communicant, thought that if he could only bring him + to profess by any means (whatever the means might be) the effect would be + what was desired. Like a man of intellect, the abbe prized the dogma but + cheaply himself. He only spoke of the suitableness of the step, and of the + highly salutary example which the resolution to adopt it would afford to + the public. + </p> + <p> + “M. Abbe,” replied the person sought to be influenced, “I + have a greater respect for religion than you have. I should consider it an + infamous mockery to go to the communion table without feeling the proper + conviction.” + </p> + <p> + “Nonsense! you inflexible man! you frowning Alcestes,” said + the Marquis Abbe, smiling slyly. “Your profits and your scruples + will go together, believe me, by listening to me. In short, we shall + manage to make it a BLANK COMMUNION for you; for after all, what is it + that we ask?—only the APPEARANCE!” + </p> + <p> + Now, a BLANK COMMUNION means breaking an unconsecrated wafer! + </p> + <p> + The Abbe-Marquis retired with his offers, which were rejected with + indignation;—but then, the refractory man was dismissed from his + place at court. This was but a single isolated fact. Woe to all who found + themselves opposed to the interest and principles of Madame de Saint + Dizier or her friends! Sooner or later, directly or indirectly, they felt + themselves cruelly stabbed, generally immediately—some in their + dearest connections, others in their credit, some in their honor; others + in their official functions; and all by secret action, noiseless, + continuous, and latent, in time becoming a terrible and mysterious + dissolvent, which invisibly undermined reputations, fortunes, positions + the most solidly established, until the moment when all sunk forever into + the abyss, amid the surprise and terror of the beholders. + </p> + <p> + It will now be conceived how under the Restoration the Princess de Saint + Dizier had become singularly influential and formidable. At the time of + the Revolution of July (1830) she had “rallied,” and, + strangely enough, by preserving some relation of family and of society + with persons faithful to the worship of decayed monarchy, people still + attributed to the princess much influence and power. Let us mention, at + last, that the Prince of Saint-Dizier, having died many years since, his + very large personal fortune had descended to his younger brother, the + father of Adrienne de Cardoville; and he, having died eighteen months ago, + that young lady found herself to be the last and only representative of + that branch of the family of the Renneponts. + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:65%;"> + <img src="images/10357m.jpg" alt="10357m " width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/10357.jpg"><i>Original</i></a> + </h5> + <p> + The Princess of Saint-Dizier awaited her niece in a very large room, + rendered dismal by its gloomy green damask. The chairs, etc., covered with + similar stuff, were of carved ebony. Paintings of scriptural and other + religious subjects, and an ivory crucifix thrown up from a background of + black velvet, contributed to give the apartment a lugubrious and austere + aspect. + </p> + <p> + Madame de Saint-Dizier, seated before a large desk, has just finished + putting the seals on numerous letters; for she had a very extensive and + very diversified correspondence. Though then aged about forty-five she was + still fair. Advancing years had somewhat thickened her shape, which + formerly of distinguished elegance, was still sufficiently handsome to be + seen to advantage under the straight folds of her black dress. Her + headdress, very simple, decorated with gray ribbons, allowed her fair + sleek hair to be seen arranged in broad bands. At first look, people were + struck with her dignified though unassuming appearance; and would have + vainly tried to discover in her physiognomy, now marked with repentant + calmness, any trace of the agitations of her past life. So naturally grave + and reserved was she, that people could not believe her the heroine of so + many intrigues and adventures and gallantry. Moreover, if by chance she + ever heard any lightness of conversation, her countenance, since she had + come to believe herself a kind of “mother in the Church,” + immediately expressed candid but grieved astonishment, which soon changed + into an air of offended chastity and disdainful pity. + </p> + <p> + For the rest, her smile, when requisite, was still full of grace, and even + of the seducing and resistless sweetness of seeming good-nature. Her large + blue eyes, on fit occasions, became affectionate and caressing. But if any + one dared to wound or ruffle her pride, gainsay her orders or harm her + interests, her countenance, usually placid and serene, betrayed a cold but + implacable malignity. Mrs. Grivois entered the cabinet, holding in her + hand Florine’s report of the manner in which Adrienne de Cardoville + had spent the morning. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Grivois had been about twenty years in the service of Madame de + Saint-Dizier. She knew everything that a lady’s-maid could or ought + to have known of her mistress in the days of her sowing of wild (being a + lady) flowers. Was it from choice that the princess had still retained + about her person this so-well-informed witness of the numerous follies of + her youth? The world was kept in ignorance of the motive; but one thing + was evident, viz., that Mrs. Grivois enjoyed great privileges under the + princess, and was treated by her rather as a companion than as a tiring + woman. + </p> + <p> + “Here are Florine’s notes, madame,” said Mrs. Grivois, + giving the paper to the princess. + </p> + <p> + “I will examine them presently,” said the princess; “but + tell me, is my niece coming? Pending the conference at which she is to be + present, you will conduct into her house a person who will soon be here, + to inquire for you by my desire.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, madame?” + </p> + <p> + “This man will make an exact inventory of everything contained in + Adrienne’s residence. You will take care that nothing is omitted; + for that is of very great importance.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, madame. But should Georgette or Hebe make any opposition?” + </p> + <p> + “There is no fear; the man charged with taking the inventory is of + such a stamp, that when they know him, they will not dare to oppose either + his making the inventory, or his other steps. It will be necessary not to + fail, as you go along with him, to be careful to obtain certain + peculiarities destined to confirm the reports which you have spread for + some time past.” + </p> + <p> + “Do not have the slightest doubt, madame. The reports have all the + consistency of truth.” + </p> + <p> + “Very soon, then, this Adrienne, so insolent and so haughty, will be + crushed and compelled to pray for pardon; and from me!” + </p> + <p> + An old footman opened both of the folding doors, and announced the + Marquis-Abbe d’Aigrigny. + </p> + <p> + “If Miss de Cardoville present herself,” said the princess to + Mrs. Grivois, “you will request her to wait an instant.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, madame,” said the duenna, going out with the servant. + </p> + <p> + Madame de Saint-Dizier and D’Aigrigny remained alone. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0037" id="link2HCH0037"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXXVII. THE PLOT. + </h2> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>he Abbe-Marquis d’Aigrigny, + as the reader has easily divined, was the person already seen in the Rue + du Milieu-des-Ursins; whence he had departed from Rome, in which city he + had remained about three months. The marquis was dressed in deep mourning, + but with his usual elegance. His was not a priestly robe; his black coat, + and his waistcoat, tightly gathered in at the waist, set off to great + advantage the elegance of his figure: his black cassimere pantaloons + disguised his feet, exactly fitted with lace boots, brilliantly polished. + And all traces of his tonsure disappeared in the midst of the slight + baldness which whitened slightly the back part of his head. There was + nothing in his entire costume, or aspect, that revealed the priest, + except, perhaps, the entire absence of beard, the more remarkable upon so + manly a countenance. His chin, newly shaved, rested on a large and + elevated black cravat, tied with a military ostentation which reminded the + beholder, that this abbe-marquis this celebrated preacher—now one of + the most active and influential chiefs of his order, had commanded a + regiment of hussars upon the Restoration, and had fought in aid of the + Russians against France. + </p> + <p> + Returned to Paris only this morning, the marquis had not seen the princess + since his mother, the Dowager Marchioness d’Aigrigny, had died near + Dunkirk, upon an estate belonging to Madame de Saint-Dizier, while vainly + calling for her son to alleviate her last moments; but the order to which + M. d’Aigrigny had thought fit to sacrifice the most sacred feeling + and duties of nature, having been suddenly transmitted to him from Rome, + he had immediately set out for that city; though not without hesitation, + which was remarked and denounced by Rodin; for the love of M. d’Aigrigny + for his mother had been the only pure feeling that had invariably + distinguished his life. + </p> + <p> + When the servant had discreetly withdrawn with Mrs. Grivois, the marquis + quickly approached the princess, held out his hand to her, and said with a + voice of emotion: + </p> + <p> + “Herminia, have you not concealed something in your letters. In her + last moments did not my mother curse me?” + </p> + <p> + “No, no, Frederick, compose yourself. She had anxiously desired your + presence. Her ideas soon became confused. But in her delirium it was still + for you that she called.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said the marquis, bitterly; “her maternal + instinct doubtless assured her that my presence could have saved her life.” + </p> + <p> + “I entreat you to banish these sad recollections,” said the + princess, “this misfortune is irreparable.” + </p> + <p> + “Tell me for the last time, truly, did not my absence cruelly affect + my mother? Had she no suspicion that a more imperious duty called me + elsewhere?” + </p> + <p> + “No, no, I assure you. Even when her reason was shaken, she believed + that you had not yet had time to come to her. All the sad details which I + wrote to you upon this painful subject are strictly true. Again, I beg of + you to compose yourself.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, my conscience ought to be easy; for I have fulfilled my duty + in sacrificing my mother. Yet I have never been able to arrive at that + complete detachment from natural affection, which is commanded to us by + those awful words: ‘He who hates not his father and his mother, even + with the soul, cannot be my disciple.’”(9) + </p> + <p> + “Doubtless, Frederick,” said the princess, “these + renunciations are painful. But, in return, what influence, what power!” + </p> + <p> + “It is true,” said the marquis, after a moment’s + silence. “What ought not to be sacrificed in order to reign in + secret over the all-powerful of the earth, who lord it in full day? This + journey to Rome, from which I have just returned, has given me a new idea + of our formidable power. For, Herminia, it is Rome which is the + culminating point, overlooking the fairest and broadest quarters of the + globe, made so by custom, by tradition, or by faith. Thence can our + workings be embraced in their full extent. It is an uncommon view to see + from its height the myriad tools, whose personality is continually + absorbed into the immovable personality of our Order. What a might we + possess! Verily, I am always swayed with admiration, aye, almost + frightened, that man once thinks, wishes, believes, and acts as he alone + lists, until, soon ours, he becomes but a human shell; its kernel of + intelligence, mind, reason, conscience, and free will, shrivelled within + him, dry and withered by the habit of mutely, fearingly bowing under + mysterious tasks, which shatter and slay everything spontaneous in the + human soul! Then do we infuse in such spiritless clay, speechless, cold, + and motionless as corpses, the breath of our Order, and, lo! the dry bones + stand up and walk, acting and executing, though only within the limits + which are circled round them evermore. Thus do they become mere limbs of + the gigantic trunk, whose impulses they mechanically carry out, while + ignorant of the design, like the stonecutter who shapes out a stone, + unaware if it be for cathedral or bagnio.” + </p> + <p> + In so speaking, the marquis’s features wore an incredible air of + proud and domineering haughtiness. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes! this power is great, most great,” observed the + princess; “and the more formidable because it moves in a mysterious + way over minds and consciences.” + </p> + <p> + “Aye, Herminia,” said the marquis: “I have had under my + command a magnificent regiment. Very often have I experienced the + energetic and exquisite enjoyment of command! At my word my squadrons put + themselves in action; bugles blared, my officers, glittering in golden + embroidery, galloped everywhere to repeat my orders: all my brave + soldiers, burning with courage, and cicatrized by battles, obeyed my + signal; and I felt proud and strong, holding as I did (so to speak) in my + hands, the force and valor of each and all combined into one being of + resistless strength and invincible intrepidity,—of all of which I + was as much the master, as I mastered the rage and fire of my war-horse! + Aye! that was greatness. But now, in spite of the misfortunes which have + befallen our Order, I feel myself a thousand times more ready for action, + more authoritative, more strong and more daring, at the head of our mute + and black-robed militia, who only think and wish, or move and obey, + mechanically, according to my will. On a sign they scatter over the + surface of the globe, gliding stealthily into households under the guise + of confessing the wife or teaching the children, into family affairs by + hearing the dying avowals,—up to the throne through the quaking + conscience of a credulous crowned coward;—aye, even to the chair of + the Pope himself, living manifesto of the Godhead though he is, by the + services rendered him or imposed by him. Is not this secret rule, made to + kindle or glut the wildest ambition, as it reaches from the cradle to the + grave, from the laborer’s hovel to the royal palace, from palace to + the papal chair? What career in all the world presents such splendid + openings? what unutterable scorn ought I not feel for the bright butterfly + life of early days, when we made so many envy us? Don’t you + remember, Herminia?” he added, with a bitter smile. + </p> + <p> + “You are right, perfectly right, Frederick!” replied the + princess quickly. “How little soever we may reflect, with what + contempt do we not think upon the past! I, like you, often compare it with + the present; and then what satisfaction I feel at having followed your + counsels! For, indeed, without you, I should have played the miserable and + ridiculous part which a woman always plays in her decline from having been + beautiful and surrounded by admirers. What could I have done at this hour? + I should have vainly striven to retain around me a selfish and ungrateful + world of gross and shameful men, who court women only that they may turn + them to the service of their passions, or to the gratification of their + vanity. It is true that there would have remained to me the resource of + what is called keeping an agreeable house for all others,—yes, in + order to entertain them, be visited by a crowd of the indifferent, to + afford opportunities of meeting to amorous young couples, who, following + each other from parlor to parlor, come not to your house but for the + purpose of being together; a very pretty pleasure, truly, that of + harboring those blooming, laughing, amorous youths, who look upon the + luxury and brilliancy with which one surrounds them, as if they were their + due upon bonds to minister to their pleasure, and to their impudent + amours!” + </p> + <p> + Her words were so stinging, and such hateful envy sat upon her face, that + she betrayed the intense bitterness of her regrets in spite of herself. + </p> + <p> + “NO, no; thanks to you, Frederick,” she continued, “After + a last and brilliant triumph, I broke forever with the world, which would + soon have abandoned me, though I was so long its idol and its queen. And I + have only changed my queendom. Instead of the dissipated men whom I ruled + with a frivolity superior to their own, I now find myself surrounded by + men of high consideration, of redoubtable character, and all-powerful, + many of whom have governed the state; to them I have devoted myself, as + they have devoted themselves to me! It is now only that I really enjoy + that happiness, of which I ever dreamt. I have taken an active part and + have exercised a powerful influence over the greatest interests of the + world; I have been initiated into the most important secrets; I have been + able to strike, surely, whosoever scoffed at or hated me; and I have been + able to elevate beyond their hopes those who have served or respected and + obeyed me.” + </p> + <p> + “There are some madmen, and some so blind, that they imagine that we + are struck down, because we ourselves have had to struggle against some + misfortunes,” said M. d’Aigrigny, disdainfully, “as if + we were not, above all others, securely founded, organized for every + struggle, and drew not from our very struggles a new and more vigorous + activity. Doubtless the times are bad. But they will become better; and, + as you know, it is nearly certain that in a few days (the 13th of + February), we shall have at our disposal a means of action sufficiently + powerful for re establishing our influence which has been temporarily + shaken.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, doubtless this affair of the medals is most important,” + said the princess. + </p> + <p> + “I should not have made so much haste to return hither,” + resumed the abbe, “were it not to act in what will be, perhaps, for + us, a very great event.” + </p> + <p> + “But you are aware of the fatality which has once again overthrown + projects the most laboriously conceived and matured?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; immediately on arriving I saw Rodin.” + </p> + <p> + “And he told you—?” + </p> + <p> + “The inconceivable arrival of the Indian, and of General Simon’s + daughters at Cardoville Castle, after a double shipwreck, which threw them + upon the coast of Picardy; though it was deemed certain that the young + girls were at Leipsic, and the Indian in Java. Precautions were so well + taken, indeed,” added the marquis in vexation, “that one would + think an invisible power protects this family.” + </p> + <p> + “Happily, Rodin is a man of resources and activity,” resumed + the princess. “He came here last night, and we had a long + conversation.” + </p> + <p> + “And the result of your consultation is excellent,” added the + marquis: “the old soldier is to be kept out of the way for two days; + and his wife’s confessor has been posted; the rest will proceed of + itself. To morrow, the girls need no longer be feared; and the Indian + remains at Cardoville, wounded dangerously. We have plenty of time for + action.” + </p> + <p> + “But that is not all,” continued the princess: “there + are still, without reckoning my niece, two persons, who, for our + interests, ought not to be found in Paris on the 13th of February.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, M. Hardy: but his most dear and intimate friend has betrayed + him; for, by means of that friend, we have drawn M. Hardy into the South, + whence it is impossible for him to return before a month. As for that + miserable vagabond workman, surnamed ‘Sleepinbuff!’” + </p> + <p> + “Fie!” exclaimed the princess, with an expression of outraged + modesty. + </p> + <p> + “That man,” resumed the marquis, “is no longer an object + of inquietude. Lastly, Gabriel, upon whom our vast and certain hope + reposes, will not be left by himself for a single minute until the great + day. Everything seems, you see, to promise success; indeed, more so than + ever; and it is necessary to obtain this success at any price. It is for + us a question of life or death; for, in returning, I stopped at Forli, and + there saw the Duke d’Orbano. His influence over the mind of the king + is all powerful—indeed, absolute; and he has completely prepossessed + the royal mind. It is with the duke alone, then, that it is possible to + treat.” + </p> + <p> + “Well?” + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:65%;"> + <img src="images/10365m.jpg" alt="10365m " width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/10365.jpg"><i>Original</i></a> + </h5> + <p> + “D’Orbano has gained strength; and he can, I know it, assure + to us a legal existence, highly protected, in the dominions of his master, + with full charge of popular education. Thanks to such advantages, after + two or three years in that country we shall become so deeply rooted, that + this very Duke d’Orbano, in his turn, will have to solicit support + and protection from us. But at present he has everything in his power; and + he puts an absolute condition upon his services.” + </p> + <p> + “What is the condition?” + </p> + <p> + “Five millions down; and an annual pension of a hundred thousand + francs.” + </p> + <p> + “It is very much.” + </p> + <p> + “Nay, but little if it be considered that our foot once planted in + that country, we shall promptly repossess ourselves of that sum, which, + after all, is scarcely an eighth part of what the affair of the medals, if + happily brought to an issue, ought to assure to the Order.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, nearly forty millions,” said the princess, thoughtfully. + </p> + <p> + “And again: these five millions that Orbano demands will be but an + advance. They will be returned to us in voluntary gifts, by reason even of + the increase of influence that we shall acquire from the education of + children; through whom we have their families. And yet, the fools + hesitate! those who govern see not, that in doing our own business, we do + theirs also;—that in abandoning education to us (which is what we + wish for above all things) we mold the people into that mute and quiet + obedience, that servile and brutal submission, which assures the repose of + states by the immobility of the mind. They don’t reflect that most + of the upper and middle classes fear and hate us; don’t understand + that (when we have persuaded the mass that their wretchedness is an + eternal law, that sufferers must give up hope of relief, that it is a + crime to sigh for welfare in this world, since the crown of glory on high + is the only reward for misery here), then the stupefied people will + resignedly wallow in the mire, all their impatient aspirations for better + days smothered, and the volcano-blasts blown aside, which made the future + of rulers so horrid and so dark? They see not, in truth, that this blind + and passive faith which we demand from the mass, furnishes their rulers + with a bridle with which both to conduct and curb them; whilst we ask from + the happy of the world only some appearances which ought, if they had only + the knowledge of their own corruption, to give an increased stimulant to + their pleasures. + </p> + <p> + “It signifies not,” resumed the princess; “since, as you + say, a great day is at hand, bringing nearly forty millions, of which the + Order can become possessed by the happy success of the affair of the + medals. We certainly can attempt very great things. Like a lever in your + hands, such a means of action would be of incalculable power, in times + during which all men buy and sell one another.” + </p> + <p> + “And then,” resumed M. d’Aigrigny, with a thoughtful + air, “here the reaction continues: the example of France is + everything. In Austria and Holland we can rarely maintain ourselves; while + the resources of the Order diminish from day to day. We have arrived at a + crisis; but it can be made to prolong itself. Thus, thanks to the immense + resource of the affair of the medals, we can not only brave all + eventualities, but we can again powerfully establish ourselves, thanks to + the offer of the Duke d’Orbano, which we accept; and then, from that + inassailable centre, our radiations will be incalculable. Ah! the 13th of + February!” added M. d’Aigrigny, after a moment of silence, and + shaking his head: “the 13th of February, a date perhaps fortunate + and famous for our power as that of the council which gave to us (so to + say) a new life!” + </p> + <p> + “And nothing must be spared.” resumed the princess, “in + order to succeed at any price. Of the six persons whom we have to fear, + five are or will be out of any condition to hurt us. There remains then + only my niece; and you know that I have waited but for your arrival in + order to take my last resolution. All my preparations are completed; and + this very morning we will begin to act.” + </p> + <p> + “Have your suspicions increased since your last letter?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I am certain that she is more instructed than she wishes to + appear; and if so, we shall not have a more dangerous enemy.” + </p> + <p> + “Such has always been my opinion. Thus it is six month: since I + advised you to take in all cases the measures which you have adopted, in + order to provoke, on her part, that demand of emancipation, the + consequences of which now render quite easy that which would have been + impossible without it.” + </p> + <p> + “At last,” said the princess, with an expression of joy, + hateful and bitter, “this indomitable spirit will be broken. I am at + length about to be avenged of the many insolent sarcasms which I have been + compelled to swallow, lest I should awaken her suspicions. I! I to have + borne so much till now! for this Adrienne has made it her business + (imprudent as she is!) to irritate me against herself!” + </p> + <p> + “Whosoever offends you, offends me; you know it,” said D’Aigrigny, + “my hatreds are yours.” + </p> + <p> + “And you yourself!” said the princess, “how many times + have you been the butt of her poignant irony!” + </p> + <p> + “My instincts seldom deceive me. I am certain that this young girl + may become a dangerous enemy for us,” said the marquis, with a voice + painfully broken into short monosyllables. + </p> + <p> + “And, therefore, it is necessary that she may be rendered incapable + of exciting further fear,” responded Madame de Saint-Dizier, fixedly + regarding the marquis. + </p> + <p> + “Have you seen Dr. Baleinier, and the sub-guardian, M. Tripeaud?” + asked he. + </p> + <p> + “They will be here this morning. I have informed them of everything.” + </p> + <p> + “Did you find them well disposed to act against her?” + </p> + <p> + “Perfectly so—and the best is, Adrienne does not at all + suspect the doctor, who has known how, up to a certain point, to preserve + her confidence. Moreover, a circumstance which appears to me inexplicable + has come to our aid.” + </p> + <p> + “What do you allude to?” + </p> + <p> + “This morning, Mrs. Grivois went, according to my orders, to remind + Adrienne that I expected her at noon, upon important business. As she + approached the pavilion, Mrs. Grivois saw, or thought she saw, Adrienne + come in by the little garden-gate.” + </p> + <p> + “What do you tell me? Is it possible? Is there any positive proof of + it?” cried the marquis. + </p> + <p> + “Till now, there is no other proof than the spontaneous declaration + of Mrs. Grivois: but whilst I think of it,” said the Princess, + taking up a paper that lay before her, “here is the report, which, + every day, one of Adrienne’s women makes to me.” + </p> + <p> + “The one that Rodin succeeded in introducing into your niece’s + service?” + </p> + <p> + “The same; as this creature is entirely in Rodin’s hands, she + has hitherto answered our purpose very well. In this report, we shall + perhaps find the confirmation of what Mrs. Grivois affirms she saw.” + </p> + <p> + Hardly had the Princess glanced at the note, than she exclaimed almost in + terror: “What do I see? Why, Adrienne is a very demon!” + </p> + <p> + “What now?” + </p> + <p> + “The bailiff at Cardoville, having written to my niece to ask her + recommendation, informed her at the same time of the stay of the Indian + prince at the castle. She knows that he is her relation, and has just + written to her old drawing-master, Norval, to set out post with Eastern + dresses, and bring Prince Djalma hither—the man that must be kept + away from Paris at any cost.” + </p> + <p> + The marquis grew pale, and said to Mme. de Saint-Dizier: “If this be + not merely one of her whims, the eagerness she displays in sending for + this relation hither, proves that she knows more than you even suspected. + She is ‘posted’ on the affair of the medals. Have a care—she + may ruin all.” + </p> + <p> + “In that case,” said the princess, resolutely, “there is + no room to hesitate. We must carry things further than we thought, and + make an end this very morning.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, though it is almost impossible.” + </p> + <p> + “Nay, all is possible. The doctor and M. Tripeaud are ours,” + said the princess, hastily. + </p> + <p> + “Though I am as sure as you are of the doctor, or of M. Tripeaud, + under present circumstances, we must not touch on the question of acting—which + will be sure to frighten them at first—until after our interview + with your niece. It will be easy, notwithstanding her cleverness, to find + out her armor’s defect. If our suspicions should be realized—if + she is really informed of what it would be so dangerous for her to know—then + we must have no scruples, and above all no delay. This very day must see + all set at rest. The time for wavering is past.” + </p> + <p> + “Have you been able to send for the person agreed on?” asked + the princess, after a moment’s silence. + </p> + <p> + “He was to be here at noon. He cannot be long.” + </p> + <p> + “I thought this room would do very well for our purpose. It is + separated from the smaller parlor by a curtain only behind which your man + may be stationed.” + </p> + <p> + “Capital!” + </p> + <p> + “Is he a man to be depended on?” + </p> + <p> + “Quite so—we have often employed him in similar matters. He is + as skillful as discreet.” + </p> + <p> + At this moment a low knock was heard at the door. + </p> + <p> + “Come in,” said the princess. + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:65%;"> + <img src="images/10349m.jpg" alt="10349m " width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/10349.jpg"><i>Original</i></a> + </h5> + <p> + “Dr. Baleinier wishes to know if her Highness the Princess can + receive him,” asked the valet-de-chambre. + </p> + <p> + “Certainly. Beg him to walk in.” + </p> + <p> + “There is also a gentleman that M. l’Abbe appointed to be here + at noon, by whose orders I have left him waiting in the oratory.” + </p> + <p> + “‘Tis the person in question,” said the marquis to the + princess. “We must have him in first. ‘Twould be useless for + Dr. Baleinier to see him at present.” + </p> + <p> + “Show this person in first,” said the princess; “next + when I ring the bell, you will beg Dr. Baleinier to walk this way: and, if + Baron Tripeaud should call, you will bring him here also. After that, I am + at home to no one, except Mdlle. Adrienne.” The servant went out. + </p> + <p> + (9) With regard to this text, a commentary upon it will be found in the + Constitutions of the Jesuits, as follows: “In order that the habit + of language may come to the help of the sentiments, it is wise not to say, + ‘I have parents, or I have brothers;’ but to say, ‘I had + parents; I had brothers.’”—General Examination, p. 29; + Constitutions.—Paulin; 1843. Paris. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0038" id="link2HCH0038"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXXVIII. ADRIENNE’S ENEMIES. + </h2> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>he Princess de + Saint-Dizier’s valet soon returned, showing in a little, pale man, + dressed in black, and wearing spectacles. He carried under his left arm a + long black morocco writing-case. + </p> + <p> + The princess said to this man: “M. l’Abbe, I suppose, has + already informed you of what is to be done?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, your highness,” said the man in a faint, shrill, piping + voice, making at the same time a low bow. + </p> + <p> + “Shall you be conveniently placed in this room?” asked the + princess, conducting him to the adjoining apartment, which was only + separated from the other by a curtain hung before a doorway. + </p> + <p> + “I shall do nicely here, your highness,” answered the man in + spectacles, with a second and still lower bow. + </p> + <p> + “In that case, sir, please to step in here; I will let you know when + it is time.” + </p> + <p> + “I shall wait your highness’s order.” + </p> + <p> + “And pray remember my instructions,” added the marquis, as he + unfastened the loops of the curtain. + </p> + <p> + “You may be perfectly tranquil, M. l’Abbe.” The heavy + drapery, as it fell, completely concealed the man in spectacles. + </p> + <p> + The princess touched the bell; some moments after, the door opened, and + the servant announced a very important personage in this work. + </p> + <p> + Dr. Baleinier was about fifty years of age, middling size, rather plump, + with a full shining, ruddy countenance. His gray hair, very smooth and + rather long, parted by a straight line in the middle, fell flat over his + temples. He had retained the fashion of wearing short, black silk + breeches, perhaps because he had a well-formed leg; his garters were + fastened with small, golden buckles, as were his shoes of polished morocco + leather; his coat, waistcoat, and cravat were black, which gave him rather + a clerical appearance; his sleek, white hand was half hidden beneath a + cambric ruffle, very closely plaited; on the whole, the gravity of his + costume did not seem to exclude a shade of foppery. + </p> + <p> + His face was acute and smiling; his small gray eye announced rare + penetration and sagacity. A man of the world and a man of pleasure, a + delicate epicure, witty in conversation, polite to obsequiousness, supple, + adroit, insinuating, Baleinier was one of the oldest favorites of the + congregational set of the Princess de Saint-Dizier. Thanks to this + powerful support, its cause unknown, the doctor, who had been long + neglected, in spite of real skill and incontestable merit, found himself, + under the Restoration, suddenly provided with two medical sinecures most + valuable, and soon after with numerous patients. We must add, that, once + under the patronage of the princess, the doctor began scrupulously to + observe his religious duties; he communicated once a week, with great + publicity, at the high mass in Saint Thomas Aquinas Church. + </p> + <p> + At the year’s end, a certain class of patients, led by the example + and enthusiasm of Madame de Saint-Dizier’s followers, would have no + other physician than Doctor Baleinier, and his practice was now increased + to an extraordinary degree. It may be conceived how important it was for + the order, to have amongst its “plain clothes members” one of + the most popular practitioners of Paris. + </p> + <p> + A doctor has in some sort a priesthood of his own. Admitted at all hours + to the most secret intimacy of families, he knows, guesses, and is able to + effect much. Like the priest, in short, he has the ear of the sick and the + dying. Now, when he who cares for the health of the body, and he who takes + charge of the health of the soul, understands each other, and render + mutual aid for the advancement of a common interest, there is nothing + (with certain exceptions), which they may not extract from the weakness + and fears of a sick man at the last gasp—not for themselves (the + laws forbid it)—but for third parties belonging more or less to the + very convenient class of men of straw. Doctor Baleinier was therefore one + of the most active and valuable assistant members of the Paris Jesuits. + </p> + <p> + When he entered the room, he hastened to kiss the princess’s hand + with the most finished gallantry. + </p> + <p> + “Always punctual, my dear M. Baleinier.” + </p> + <p> + “Always eager and happy to attend to your highness’s orders.” + Then turning towards the marquis, whose hand he pressed cordially, he + added: “Here we have you then at last. Do you know, that three + months’ absence appears very long to your friends?” + </p> + <p> + “The time is as long to the absent as to those who remain, my dear + doctor. Well! here is the great day, Mdlle. de Cardoville is coming.” + </p> + <p> + “I am not quite easy,” said the princess; “suppose she + had any suspicion?” + </p> + <p> + “That’s impossible,” said M. Baleinier; “we are + the best friends in the world. You know, that Mdlle. Adrienne has always + had great confidence in me. The day before yesterday, we laughed a good + deal, and as I made some observations to her, as usual, on her eccentric + mode of life, and on the singular state of excitement in which I sometimes + found her—” + </p> + <p> + “M. Baleinier never fails to insist on these circumstances, in + appearance so insignificant,” said Madame de Saint-Dizier to the + marquis with a meaning look. + </p> + <p> + “They are indeed very essential,” replied the other. + </p> + <p> + “Mdlle. Adrienne answered my observations,” resumed the + doctor, “by laughing at me in the gayest and most witty manner; for + I must confess, that this young lady has one of the aptest and most + accomplished minds I know.” + </p> + <p> + “Doctor, doctor!” said Madame de Saint-Dizier, “no + weakness!” + </p> + <p> + Instead of answering immediately, M. Baleinier drew his gold snuff-box + from his waistcoat pocket, opened it, and took slowly a pinch of snuff, + looking all the time at the princess with so significant an air, that she + appeared quite reassured. “Weakness, madame?” observed he at + last, brushing some grains of snuff from his shirt-front with his plump + white hand; “did I not have the honor of volunteering to extricate + you from this embarrassment?” + </p> + <p> + “And you are the only person in the world that could render us this + important service,” said D’Aigrigny. + </p> + <p> + “Your highness sees, therefore,” resumed the doctor, “that + I am not likely to show any weakness. I perfectly understand the + responsibility of what I undertake; but such immense interests, you told + me, were at stake—” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said D’Aigrigny, “interests of the first + consequence.” + </p> + <p> + “Therefore I did not hesitate,” proceeded M. Baleinier; + “and you need not be at all uneasy. As a man of taste, accustomed to + good society, allow me to render homage to the charming qualities of + Mdlle. Adrienne; when the time for action comes, you will find me quite as + willing to do my work.” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps, that moment may be nearer than we thought,” said + Madame de Saint-Dizier, exchanging a glance with D’Aigrigny. + </p> + <p> + “I am, and will be, always ready,” said the doctor. “I + answer for everything that concerns myself. I wish I could be as tranquil + on every other point.” + </p> + <p> + “Is not your asylum still as fashionable—as an asylum can well + be?” asked Madame de Saint-Dizier, with a half smile. + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:65%;"> + <img src="images/10373m.jpg" alt="10373m " width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/10373.jpg"><i>Original</i></a> + </h5> + <p> + “On the contrary. I might almost complain of having too many + boarders. It is not that. But, whilst we are waiting for Mdlle. Adrienne, + I will mention another subject, which only relates to her indirectly, for + it concerns the person who, bought Cardoville Manor, one Madame de la + Sainte-Colombe, who has taken me for a doctor, thanks to Rodin’s + able management.” + </p> + <p> + “True,” said D’Aigrigny; “Rodin wrote to me on the + subject—but without entering into details.” + </p> + <p> + “These are the facts,” resumed the doctor. “This Madame + de la Sainte Colombe, who was at first considered easy enough to lead, has + shown herself very refractory on the head of her conversion. Two spiritual + directors have already renounced the task of saving her soul. In despair, + Rodin unslipped little Philippon on her. He is adroit, tenacious, and + above all patient in the extreme—the very man that was wanted. When + I got Madame de la Sainte-Colombe for a patient, Philippon asked my aid, + which he was naturally entitled to. We agreed upon our plan. I was not to + appear to know him the least in the world; and he was to keep me informed + of the variations in the moral state of his penitent, so that I might be + able, by the use of very inoffensive medicines—for there was nothing + dangerous in the illness—to keep my patient in alternate states of + improvement or the reverse, according as her director had reason to be + satisfied or displeased—so that he might say to her: ‘You see, + madame, you are in the good way! Spiritual grace acts upon your bodily + health, and you are already better. If, on the contrary, you fall back + into evil courses, you feel immediately some physical ail, which is a + certain proof of the powerful influence of faith, not only on the soul, + but on the body also?’” + </p> + <p> + “It is doubtless painful,” said D’Aigrigny, with perfect + coolness, “to be obliged to have recourse to such means, to rescue + perverse souls from perdition—but we must needs proportion our modes + of action to the intelligence and the character of the individual.” + </p> + <p> + “By-the-bye, the princess knows,” resumed the doctor, “that + I have often pursued this plan at St. Mary’s Convent, to the great + advantage of the soul’s peace and health of some of our patients, + being extremely innocent. These alternations never exceed the difference + between ‘pretty well,’ and ‘not quite so well.’ + Yet small as are the variations, they act most efficaciously on certain + minds. It was thus with Madame de la Sainte-Colombe. She was in such a + fair way of recovery, both moral and physical, that Rodin thought he might + get Philippon to advise the country for his penitent, fearing that Paris + air might occasion a relapse. This advice, added to the desire the woman + had to play ‘lady of the parish,’ induced her to buy + Cardoville Manor, a good investment in any respect. But yesterday, + unfortunate Philippon came to tell me, that Madame de la Sainte-Colombe + was about to have an awful relapse—moral, of course—for her + physical health is now desperately good. The said relapse appears to have + been occasioned by an interview she has had with one Jacques Dumoulin, + whom they tell me you know, my dear abbe; he has introduced himself to + her, nobody can guess how.” + </p> + <p> + “This Jacques Dumoulin,” said the marquis, with disgust, + “is one of those men, that we employ while we despise. He is a + writer full of gall, envy, and hate, qualities that give him a certain + unmercifully cutting eloquence. We pay him largely to attack our enemies, + though it is often painful to see principles we respect defended by such a + pen. For this wretch lives like a vagabond—is constantly in taverns—almost + always intoxicated—but, I must own, his power of abuse is + inexhaustible, and he is well versed in the most abstruse theological + controversies, so that he is sometimes very useful to us.” + </p> + <p> + “Well! though Madame de la Sainte-Colombe is hard upon sixty, it + appears that Dumoulin has matrimonial views on her large fortune. You will + do well to inform Rodin, so that he may be on his guard against the dark + designs of this rascal. I really beg a thousand pardons for having so long + occupied you with such a paltry affair—but, talking of St. Mary’s + Convent,” added the doctor, addressing the princess, “may I + take the liberty of asking if your highness has been there lately?” + </p> + <p> + The princess exchanged a rapid glance with D’Aigrigny, and answered: + “Oh, let me see! Yes, I was there about a week ago.” + </p> + <p> + “You will find great changes then. The wall that was next to my + asylum has been taken down, for they are going to build anew wing and a + chapel, the old one being too small. I must say in praise of Mdlle. + Adrienne” continued the doctor with a singular smile aside, “that + she promised me a copy of one of Raphael’s Madonnas for this chapel.” + </p> + <p> + “Really? very appropriate!” said the princess. “But here + it is almost noon, and M. Tripeaud has not come.” + </p> + <p> + “He is the deputy-guardian of Mdlle. de Cardoville, whose property + he has managed, as former agent of the count-duke,” said the + marquis, with evident anxiety, “and his presence here is absolutely + indispensable. It is greatly to be desired that his coming should precede + that of Mdlle. de Cardoville, who may be here at any moment.” + </p> + <p> + “It is unlucky that his portrait will not do as well,” said + the doctor, smiling maliciously, and drawing a small pamphlet from his + pocket. + </p> + <p> + “What is that, doctor?” asked the princess. + </p> + <p> + “One of those anonymous sheets, which are published from time to + time. It is called the ‘Scourge,’ and Baron Tripeaud’s + portrait is drawn with such faithfulness, that it ceases to be satire. It + is really quite life like; you have only to listen. The sketch is + entitled: ‘TYPE OF THE LYNX SPECIES.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘The Baron Tripeaud.—This man, who is as basely humble + towards his social superiors, as he is insolent and coarse to those who + depend upon him—is the living, frightful incarnation of the worst + pardon of the moneyed and commercial aristocracy—one of the rich and + cynical speculators, without heart, faith or conscience, who would + speculate for a rise or fall on the death of his mother, if the death of + his mother could influence the price of stocks. + </p> + <p> + “‘Such persons have all the odious vices of men suddenly + elevated, not like those whom honest and patient labor has nobly enriched, + but like those who owe their wealth to some blind caprice of fortune, or + some lucky cast of the net in the miry waters of stock-jobbing. + </p> + <p> + “‘Once up in the world, they hate the people—because the + people remind them of a mushroom origin of which they are ashamed. Without + pity for the dreadful misery of the masses, they ascribe it wholly to + idleness or debauchery because this calumny forms an excuse for their + barbarous selfishness. + </p> + <p> + “‘And this is not all. On the strength of his well-filled + safe, mounted on his right of the candidate, Baron Tripeaud insults the + poverty and political disfranchisement—of the officer, who, after + forty years of wars and hard service, is just able to live on a scanty + pension—Of the magistrate, who has consumed his strength in the + discharge of stern and sad duties, and who is not better remunerated in + his litter days—Of the learned man who has made his country + illustrious by useful labors; or the professor who has initiated entire + generations in the various branches of human knowledge—Of the modest + and virtuous country curate, the pure representative of the gospel, in its + charitable, fraternal, and democratic tendencies, etc. + </p> + <p> + “‘In such a state of things, how should our shoddy baron of + in-dust-ry not feel the most sovereign contempt for all that stupid mob of + honest folk, who, having given to their country their youth, their mature + age, their blood, their intelligence, their learning, see themselves + deprived of the rights which he enjoys, because he has gained a million by + unfair and illegal transactions? + </p> + <p> + “‘It is true, that your optimists say to these pariahs of + civilization, whose proud and noble poverty cannot be too much revered and + honored: “Buy an estate and you too may be electors and candidates!”’ + </p> + <p> + “‘But to come to the biography of our worthy baron—Andrew + Tripeaud, the son of an ostler, at a roadside inn.’” + </p> + <p> + At this instant the folding-doors were thrown open, and the valet + announced: “The Baron Tripeaud!” + </p> + <p> + Dr. Baleinier put his pamphlet into his pocket, made the most cordial bow + to the financier, and even rose to give him his hand. The baron entered + the room, overwhelming every one with salutations. “I have the honor + to attend the orders of your highness the princess. She knows that she may + always count upon me.” + </p> + <p> + “I do indeed rely upon you, M. Tripeaud, and particularly under + present circumstances.” + </p> + <p> + “If the intentions of your highness the princess are still the same + with regard to Mdlle. de Cardoville—” + </p> + <p> + “They are still the same, M. Tripeaud, and we meet to-day on that + subject.” + </p> + <p> + “Your highness may be assured of my concurrence, as, indeed, I have + already promised. I think that the greatest severity must at length be + employed, and that even if it were necessary.” + </p> + <p> + “That is also our opinion,” said the marquis, hastily making a + sign to the princess, and glancing at the place where the man in + spectacles was hidden; “we are all perfectly in harmony. Still, we + must not leave any point doubtful, for the sake of the young lady herself, + whose interests alone guides us in this affair. We must draw out her + sincerity by every possible means.” + </p> + <p> + “Mademoiselle has just arrived from the summer-house and wishes to + see your highness,” said the valet, again entering, after having + knocked at the door. + </p> + <p> + “Say that I wait for her,” answered the princess; “and + now I am at home to no one—without exception. You understand me; + absolutely to no one.” + </p> + <p> + Thereupon, approaching the curtain behind which the man was concealed, + Mme. de Saint-Dizier gave him the cue—after which she returned to + her seat. + </p> + <p> + It is singular, but during the short space which preceded Adrienne’s + arrival, the different actors in this scene appeared uneasy and + embarrassed, as if they had a vague fear of her coming. In about a minute, + Mdlle. de Cardoville entered the presence of her aunt. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0039" id="link2HCH0039"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXXIX. THE SKIRMISH. + </h2> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">O</span>n entering, Mdlle. + de Cardoville threw down upon a chair the gray beaver hat she had worn to + cross the garden, and displayed her fine golden hair, falling on either + side of her face in long, light ringlets, and twisted in a broad knot + behind her head. She presented herself without boldness, but with perfect + ease: her countenance was gay and smiling; her large black eyes appeared + even more brilliant than usual. When she perceived Abbe d’Aigrigny, + she started in surprise, and her rosy lips were just touched with a + mocking smile. + </p> + <p> + After nodding graciously to the doctor, she passed Baron Tripeaud by + without looking at him, and saluted the princess with stately obeisance, + in the most fashionable style. + </p> + <p> + Though the walk and bearing of Mdlle. de Cardoville were extremely + elegant, and full of propriety and truly feminine grace, there was about + her an air of resolution and independence by no means common in women, and + particularly in girls of her age. Her movements, without being abrupt, + bore no traces of restraint, stiffness, or formality. They were frank and + free as her character, full of life, youth, and freshness; and one could + easily divine that so buoyant, straightforward, and decided a nature had + never been able to conform itself to the rules of an affected rigor. + </p> + <p> + Strangely enough, though he was a man of the world, a man of great talent, + a churchman distinguished for his eloquence, and, above all, a person of + influence and authority. Marquis d’Aigrigny experienced an + involuntary, incredible, almost painful uneasiness, in presence of + Adrienne de Cardoville. He—generally so much the master of himself, + so accustomed to exercise great power—who (in the name of his Order) + had often treated with crowned heads on the footing of an equal, felt + himself abashed and lowered in the presence of this girl, as remarkable + for her frankness as for her biting irony. Now, as men who are accustomed + to impose their will upon others generally hate those who, far from + submitting to their influence, hamper it and make sport of them, it was no + great degree of affection that the marquis bore towards the Princess de + Saint-Dizier’s niece. + </p> + <p> + For a long time past, contrary to his usual habit, he had ceased to try + upon Adrienne that fascinating address to which he had often owed an + irresistible charm; towards her he had become dry, curt, serious, taking + refuge in that icy sphere of haughty dignity and rigid austerity which + completely hid all those amiable qualities with which he was endowed and + of which, in general, he made such efficient use. Adrienne was much amused + at all this, and thereby showed her imprudence—for the most vulgar + motives often engender the most implacable hatreds. + </p> + <p> + From these preliminary observations, the reader will understand the divers + sentiments and interests which animated the different actors in the + following scene. + </p> + <p> + Madame de Saint-Dizier was seated in a large arm-chair by one side of the + hearth. Marquis d’Aigrigny was standing before the fire. Dr. + Baleinier seated near a bureau, was again turning over the leaves of Baron + Tripeaud’s biography, whilst the baron appeared to be very + attentively examining one of the pictures of sacred subjects suspended + from the wall. + </p> + <p> + “You sent for me, aunt, to talk upon matters of importance?” + said Adrienne, breaking the silence which had reigned in the + reception-room since her entrance. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, madame,” answered the princess, with a cold and severe + mien; “upon matters of the gravest importance.” + </p> + <p> + “I am at your service, aunt. Perhaps we had better walk into your + library?” + </p> + <p> + “It is not necessary. We can talk here.” Then, addressing the + marquis, the doctor, and the baron, she said to them, “Pray, be + seated, gentlemen,” and they all took their places round the table. + </p> + <p> + “How can the subject of our interview interest these gentlemen, + aunt?” asked Mdlle. de Cardoville, with surprise. + </p> + <p> + “These gentlemen are old family friends; all that concerns you must + interest them, and their advice ought to be heard and accepted by you with + respect.” + </p> + <p> + “I have no doubt, aunt, of the bosom friendship of M. d’Aigrigny + for our family: I have still less of the profound and disinterested + devotion of M. Tripeaud; M. Baleinier is one of my old friends; still, + before accepting these gentlemen as spectators, or, if you will, as + confidants of our interview, I wish to know what we are going to talk of + before them.” + </p> + <p> + “I thought that, among your many singular pretensions, you had at + least those of frankness and courage.” + </p> + <p> + “Really, aunt,” said Adrienne, smiling with mock humility, + “I have no more pretensions to frankness and courage than you have + to sincerity and goodness. Let us admit, once for all, that we are what we + are—without pretension.” + </p> + <p> + “Be it so,” said Madame de Saint-Dizier, in a dry tone; + “I have long been accustomed to the freaks of your independent + spirit. I suppose, then, that, courageous and frank as you say you are, + you will not be afraid to speak before such grave and respectable persons + as these gentlemen what you would speak to me alone?” + </p> + <p> + “Is it a formal examination that I am to submit to? if so, upon what + subject?” + </p> + <p> + “It is not an examination: but, as I have a right to watch over you, + and as you take advantage of my weak compliance with your caprices, I mean + to put an end to what has lasted too long, and tell you my irrevocable + resolutions for the future, in presence of friends of the family. And, + first, you have hitherto had a very false and imperfect notion of my power + over you.” + </p> + <p> + “I assure you, aunt, that I have never had any notion, true or + false, on the subject—for I have never even dreamt about it.” + </p> + <p> + “That is my own fault; for, instead of yielding to your fancies, I + should have made you sooner feel my authority; but the moment has come to + submit yourself; the severe censures of my friends have enlightened me in + time. Your character is self-willed, independent, stubborn; it must change—either + by fair means or by force, understand me, it shall change.” + </p> + <p> + At these words, pronounced harshly before strangers, with a severity which + did not seem at all justified by circumstances, Adrienne tossed her head + proudly; but, restraining herself, she answered with a smile: “You + say, aunt, that I shall change. I should not be astonished at it. We hear + of such odd conversions.” + </p> + <p> + The princess bit her lips. + </p> + <p> + “A sincere conversion can never be called odd, as you term it, + madame,” said Abbe d’Aigrigny, coldly. “It is, on the + contrary, meritorious, and forms an excellent example.” + </p> + <p> + “Excellent?” answered Adrienne: “that depends! For + instance, what if one converts defects into vices?” + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean, madame?” cried the princess. + </p> + <p> + “I am speaking of myself, aunt; you reproach me of being independent + and resolute—suppose I were to become hypocritical and wicked? In + truth, I prefer keeping my dear little faults, which I love like spoiled + children. I know what I am; I do not know what I might be.” + </p> + <p> + “But you must acknowledge, Mdlle. Adrienne,” said Baron + Tripeaud, with a self-conceited and sententious air, “that a + conversion—” + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:65%;"> + <img src="images/10381m.jpg" alt="10381m " width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/10381.jpg"><i>Original</i></a> + </h5> + <p> + “I believe,” said Adrienne, disdainfully, “that M. + Tripeaud is well versed in the conversion of all sorts of property into + all sorts of profit, by all sorts of means—but he knows nothing of + this matter.” + </p> + <p> + “But, madame,” resumed the financier, gathering courage from a + glance of the princess, “you forget that I have the honor to be your + deputy guardian, and that—” + </p> + <p> + “It is true that M. Tripeaud has that honor,” said Adrienne, + with still more haughtiness, and not even looking at the baron; “I + could never tell exactly why. But as it is not now the time to guess + enigmas, I wish to know, aunt, the object and the end of this meeting?” + </p> + <p> + “You shall be satisfied, madame. I will explain myself in a very + clear and precise manner. You shall know the plan of conduct that you will + have henceforth to pursue; and if you refuse to submit thereto, with the + obedience and respect that is due to my orders, I shall at once see what + course to take.” + </p> + <p> + It is impossible to give an idea of the imperious tone and stern look of + the princess, as she pronounced these words which were calculated to + startle a girl, until now accustomed to live in a great measure as she + pleased: yet, contrary perhaps to the expectation of Madame de Saint + Dizier, instead of answering impetuously, Adrienne looked her full in the + face, and said, laughing: “This is a perfect declaration of war. It’s + becoming very amusing.” + </p> + <p> + “We are not talking of declarations of war,” said the Abbe d’Aigrigny, + harshly, as if offended by the expressions of Mdlle. de Cardoville. + </p> + <p> + “Now, M. l’Abbe!” returned Adrienne, “for an old + colonel, you are really too severe upon a jest!—you are so much + indebted to ‘war,’ which gave you a French regiment after + fighting so long against France—in order to learn, of course, the + strength and the weakness of her enemies.” + </p> + <p> + On these words, which recalled painful remembrances, the marquis colored; + he was going to answer, but the princess exclaimed: “Really, madame, + your behavior is quite intolerable!” + </p> + <p> + “Well, aunt, I acknowledge I was wrong. I ought not to have said + this is very amusing—for it is not so, at all; but it is at least + very curious—and perhaps,” added the young girl, after a + moment’s silence, “perhaps very audacious and audacity pleases + me. As we are upon this subject, and you talk of a plan of conduct to + which I must conform myself, under pain of (interrupting herself)—under + pain of what, I should like to know, aunt?” + </p> + <p> + “You shall know. Proceed.” + </p> + <p> + “I will, in the presence of these gentlemen, also declare, in a very + plain and precise manner, the determination that I have come to. As it + required some time to prepare for its execution, I have not spoken of it + sooner, for you know I am not in the habit of saying, ‘I will do so + and so!’ but I do it.” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly; and it is just this habit of culpable independence of + which you must break yourself.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I had intended only to inform you of my determination at a + later period; but I cannot resist the pleasure of doing so to-day, you + seem so well disposed to hear and receive it. Still, I would beg of you to + speak first: it may just so happen, that our views are precisely the same.” + </p> + <p> + “I like better to see you thus,” said the princess. “I + acknowledge at least the courage of your pride, and your defiance of all + authority. You speak of audacity—yours is indeed great.” + </p> + <p> + “I am at least decided to do that which others in their weakness + dare not—but which I dare. This, I hope, is clear and precise.” + </p> + <p> + “Very clear, very precise,” said the princess, exchanging a + glance of satisfaction with the other actors in this scene. “The + positions being thus established, matters will be much simplified. I have + only to give you notice, in your own interest, that this is a very serious + affair—much more so than you imagine—and that the only way to + dispose me to indulgence, is to substitute, for the habitual arrogance and + irony of your language, the modesty and respect becoming a young lady.” + </p> + <p> + Adrienne smiled, but made no reply. Some moments of silence, and some + rapid glances exchanged between the princess and her three friends, showed + that these encounters, more or less brilliant in themselves, were to be + followed by a serious combat. + </p> + <p> + Mdlle. de Cardoville had too much penetration and sagacity, not to remark, + that the Princess de Saint-Dizier attached the greatest importance to this + decisive interview. But she could not understand how her aunt could hope + to impose her absolute will upon her: the threat of coercive measures + appearing with reason a mere ridiculous menace. Yet, knowing the + vindictive character of her aunt, the secret power at her disposal, and + the terrible vengeance she had sometimes exacted—reflecting, + moreover, that men in the position of the marquis and the doctor would not + have come to attend this interview without some weighty motive—the + young lady paused for a moment before she plunged into the strife. + </p> + <p> + But soon, the very presentiment of some vague danger, far from weakening + her, gave her new courage to brave the worst, to exaggerate, if that were + possible, the independence of her ideas, and uphold, come what might, the + determination that she was about to signify to the Princess de Saint + Dizier. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0040" id="link2HCH0040"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XL. THE REVOLT + </h2> + <p> + “Madame,” said the princess to Adrienne de Cardoville, in a + cold, severe tone, “I owe it to myself, as well as to these + gentlemen, to recapitulate, in a few words, the events that have taken + place for some time past. Six months ago, at the end of the mourning for + your father, you, being eighteen years old, asked for the management of + your fortune, and for emancipation from control. Unfortunately, I had the + weakness to consent. You quitted the house, and established yourself in + the extension, far from all superintendence. Then began a train of + expenditures, each one more extravagant than the last. Instead of being + satisfied with one or two waiting-women, taken from that class from which + they are generally selected, you chose governesses for lady-companions, + whom you dressed in the most ridiculous and costly fashion. It is true, + that, in the solitude of your pavilion, you yourself chose to wear, one + after another, costumes of different ages. Your foolish fancies and + unreasonable whims have been without end and without limit: not only have + you never fulfilled your religious duties, but you have actually had the + audacity to profane one of your rooms, by rearing in the centre of it a + species of pagan altar, on which is a group in marble representing a youth + and a girl”—the princess uttered these words as if they would + burn her lips—“a work of art, if you will, but a work in the + highest degree unsuitable to a person of your age. You pass whole days + entirely secluded in your pavilion, refusing to see any one; and Dr. + Baleinier, the only one of my friends in whom you seem to have retained + some confidence, having succeeded by much persuasion in gaining + admittance, has frequently found you in so very excited a state, that he + has felt seriously uneasy with regard to your health. You have always + insisted on going out alone, without rendering any account of your actions + to any one. You have taken delight in opposing, in every possible way, + your will to my authority. Is all this true?” + </p> + <p> + “The picture of my past is not much flattered,” said Adrienne; + smiling, “but it is not altogether unlike.” + </p> + <p> + “So you admit, madame,” said Abbe d’Aigrigny, laying + stress on his words, “that all the facts stated by your aunt are + scrupulously true?” + </p> + <p> + Every eye was turned towards Adrienne, as if her answer would be of + extreme importance. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, M. l’Abbe,” said she; “I live openly enough + to render this question superfluous.” + </p> + <p> + “These facts are therefore admitted,” said Abbe d’Aigrigny, + turning towards the doctor and the baron. + </p> + <p> + “These facts are completely established,” said M. Tripeaud, in + a pompous voice. + </p> + <p> + “Will you tell me, aunt,” asked Adrienne, “what is the + good of this long preamble?” + </p> + <p> + “This long preamble, madame,” resumed the princess with + dignity, “exposes the past in order to justify the future.” + </p> + <p> + “Really, aunt, such mysterious proceedings are a little in the style + of the answers of the Cumaean Sybil. They must be intended to cover + something formidable.” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps, mademoiselle—for to certain characters nothing is so + formidable as duty and obedience. Your character is one of those inclined + to revolt—” + </p> + <p> + “I freely acknowledge it, aunt—and it will always be so, until + duty and obedience come to me in a shape that I can respect and love.” + </p> + <p> + “Whether you respect and love my orders or not, madame,” said + the princess, in a curt, harsh voice, “you will, from to-day, from + this moment, learn to submit blindly and absolutely to my will. In one + word, you will do nothing without my permission: it is necessary, I insist + upon it, and so I am determined it shall be.” + </p> + <p> + Adrienne looked at her aunt for a second, and then burst into so free and + sonorous a laugh, that it rang for quite a time through the vast + apartment. D’Aigrigny and Baron Tripeaud started in indignation. The + princess looked angrily at her niece. The doctor raised his eyes to + heaven, and clasped his hands over his waistcoat with a sanctimonious + sigh. + </p> + <p> + “Madame,” said Abbe d’Aigrigny, “such fits of + laughter are highly unbecoming. Your aunt’s words are serious, and + deserve a different reception.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, sir!” said Adrienne, recovering herself, “it is not + my fault if I laugh. How can I maintain my gravity, when I hear my aunt + talking of blind submission to her orders? Is the swallow, accustomed to + fly upwards and enjoy the sunshine, fledged to live with the mole in + darkness?” + </p> + <p> + At this answer, D’Aigrigny affected to stare at the other members of + this kind of family council with blank astonishment. + </p> + <p> + “A swallow? what does she mean?” asked the abbe of the baron + making a sign, which the latter understood. + </p> + <p> + “I do not know,” answered Tripeaud, staring in his turn at the + doctor. “She spoke too of a mole. It ‘is quite unheard-of—incomprehensible.” + </p> + <p> + “And so, madame,” said the princess, appearing to share in the + surprise of the others, “this is the reply that you make to me?” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly,” answered Adrienne, astonished herself that they + should pretend not to understand the simile of which she had made use, + accustomed as she was to speak in figurative language. + </p> + <p> + “Come, come, madame,” said Dr. Baleinier, smiling + good-humoredly, “we must be indulgent. My dear Mdlle. Adrienne has + naturally so uncommon and excitable a nature! She is really the most + charming mad woman I know; I have told her so a hundred times, in my + position of an old friend, which allows such freedom.” + </p> + <p> + “I can conceive that your attachment makes you indulgent—but + it is not the less true, doctor,” said D’Aigrigny, as if + reproaching him for taking the part of Mdlle. de Cardoville, “that + such answers to serious questions are most extravagant.” + </p> + <p> + “The evil is, that mademoiselle does not seem to comprehend the + serious nature of this conference,” said the princess, harshly. + “She will perhaps understand it better when I have given her my + orders.” + </p> + <p> + “Let us hear these orders, aunt,” replied Adrienne as, seated + on the other side of the table, opposite to the princess, she leaned her + small, dimpled chin in the hollow of her pretty hand, with an air of + graceful mockery, charming to behold. + </p> + <p> + “From to-morrow forward,” resumed the princess, “you + will quit the summer-house which you at present inhabit, you will + discharge your women, and come and occupy two rooms in this house, to + which there will be no access except through my apartment. You will never + go out alone. You will accompany me to the services of the church. Your + emancipation terminates, in consequence of your prodigality duly proven. I + will take charge of all your expenses, even to the ordering of your + clothes, so that you may be properly and modestly dressed. Until your + majority (which will be indefinitely postponed, by means of the + intervention of a family-council), you will have no money at your own + disposal. Such is my resolution.” + </p> + <p> + “And certainly your resolution can only be applauded, madame,” + said Baron Tripeaud; “we can but encourage you to show the greatest + firmness, for such disorders must have an end.” + </p> + <p> + “It is more than time to put a stop to such scandal,” added + the abbe. + </p> + <p> + “Eccentricity and exaltation of temperament—may excuse many + things,” ventured to observe the smooth-tongued doctor. + </p> + <p> + “No doubt,” replied the princess dryly to Baleinier, who + played his part to perfection; “but then, doctor, the requisite + measures must be taken with such characters.” + </p> + <p> + Madame de Saint-Dizier had expressed herself in a firm and precise manner; + she appeared convinced of the possibility of putting her threats into + execution. M. Tripeaud and D’Aigrigny had just now given their full + consent to the words of the princess. Adrienne began to perceive that + something very serious was in contemplation, and her gayety was at once + replaced by an air of bitter irony and offended independence. + </p> + <p> + She rose abruptly, and colored a little; her rosy nostrils dilated, her + eyes flashed fire, and, as she raised her head, she gently shook the fine, + wavy golden hair, with a movement of pride that was natural to her. After + a moment’s silence, she said to her aunt in a cutting tone: “You + have spoken of the past, madame; I also will speak a few words concerning + it, since you force me to do so, though I may regret the necessity. I + quitted your dwelling, because it was impossible for me to live longer in + this atmosphere of dark hypocrisy and black treachery.” + </p> + <p> + “Madame,” said D’Aigrigny, “such words are as + violent as they are unreasonable.” + </p> + <p> + “Since you interrupt me, sir,” said Adrienne, hastily, as she + fixed her eyes on the abbe, “tell me what examples did I meet with + in my aunt’s house?” + </p> + <p> + “Excellent, examples, madame.” + </p> + <p> + “Excellent, sir? Was it because I saw there, every day, her + conversion keep pace with your own?” + </p> + <p> + “Madame, you forget yourself!” cried the princess, becoming + pale with rage. + </p> + <p> + “Madame, I do not forget—I remember, like other people; that + is all. I had no relation of whom I could ask an asylum. I wished to live + alone. I wished to enjoy my revenues—because I chose rather to spend + them myself, than to see them wasted by M. Tripeaud.” + </p> + <p> + “Madame,” cried the baron, “I cannot imagine how you can + presume—” + </p> + <p> + “Sir!” said Adrienne, reducing him to silence by a gesture of + overwhelming lordliness, “I speak of you—not to you. I wished + to spend my income,” she continued, “according to my own + tastes. I embellished the retreat that I had chosen. Instead of ugly, + ill-taught servants, I selected girls, pretty and well brought up, though + poor. Their education forbade their being subjected to any humiliating + servitude, though I have endeavored to make their situation easy and + agreeable. They do not serve me, but render me service—I pay them, + but I am obliged to them—nice distinctions that your highness will + not understand, I know. Instead of seeing them badly or ungracefully + dressed, I have given them clothes that suit their charming faces well, + because I like whatever is young and fair. Whether I dress myself one way + or the other, concerns only my looking-glass. I go out alone, because I + like to follow my fancy. I do not go to mass—but, if I had still a + mother, I would explain to her my devotions, and she would kiss me none + the less tenderly. It is true, that I have raised a pagan altar to youth + and beauty, because I adore God in all that He has made fair and good, + noble and grand—because, morn and evening, my heart repeats the + fervent and sincere prayer: ‘Thanks, my Creator! thanks!’—Your + highness says that M. Baleinier has often found me in my solitude, a prey + to a strange excitement: yes, it is true; for it is then that, escaping in + thought from all that renders the present odious and painful to me, I find + refuge in the future—it is then that magical horizons spread far + before me—it is then that such splendid visions appear to me, as + make me feel myself rapt in a sublime and heavenly ecstasy, as if I no + longer appertained to earth!” + </p> + <p> + As Adrienne pronounced these last words with enthusiasm, her countenance + appeared transfigured, so resplendent did it become. In that moment, she + had lost sight of all that surrounded her. + </p> + <p> + “It is then,” she resumed, with spirit soaring higher and + higher, “that I breathe a pure air, reviving and free—yes, + free—above all, free—and so salubrious, so grateful to the + soul!—Yes, instead of seeing my sisters painfully submit to a + selfish, humiliating, brutal dominion, which entails upon them the + seductive vices of slavery, the graceful fraud, the enchanting perfidy, + the caressing falsehood, the contemptuous resignation, the hateful + obedience—I behold them, my noble sisters! worthy and sincere + because they are free, faithful and devoted because they have liberty to + choose—neither imperious not base, because they have no master to + govern or to flatter—cherished and respected, because they can + withdraw from a disloyal hand their hand, loyally bestowed. Oh, my + sisters! my sisters! I feel it. These are not merely consoling visions—they + are sacred hopes.” + </p> + <p> + Carried away, in spite of herself, by the excitement of her feelings, + Adrienne paused for a moment, in order to return to earth; she did not + perceive that the other actors in this scene were looking at each other + with an air of delight. + </p> + <p> + “What she says there is excellent,” murmured the doctor in the + princess’s ear, next to whom he was seated; “were she in + league with us, she would not speak differently.” + </p> + <p> + “It is only by excessive harshness,” added D’Aigrigny, + “that we shall bring her to the desired point.” + </p> + <p> + But it seemed as if the vexed emotion of Adrienne had been dissipated by + the contact of the generous sentiments she had just uttered. Addressing + Baleinier with a smile, she said: “I must own, doctor, that there is + nothing more ridiculous, than to yield to the current of certain thoughts, + in the presence of persons incapable of understanding them. This would + give you a fine opportunity to make game of that exaltation of mind for + which you sometimes reproach me. To let myself be carried away by + transports at so serious a moment!—for, verily, the matter in hand + seems to be serious. But you see, good M. Baleinier, when an idea comes + into my head, I can no more help following it out, than I could refrain + from running after butterflies when I was a little girl.” + </p> + <p> + “And heaven only knows whither these brilliant butterflies of all + colors,” said M. Baleinier, smiling with an air of paternal + indulgence, “that are passing through your brain, are likely to lead + you. Oh, madcap, when will she be as reasonable as she is charming?” + </p> + <p> + “This very instant, my good doctor,” replied Adrienne. “I + am about to cast off my reveries for realities, and speak plain and + positive language, as you shall hear.” + </p> + <p> + Upon which, addressing her aunt, she continued: “You have imparted + to me your resolution, madame; I will now tell you mine. Within a week, I + shall quit the pavilion that I inhabit, for a house which I have arranged + to my taste, where I shall live after my own fashion. I have neither + father nor mother, and I owe no account of my actions to any but myself.” + </p> + <p> + “Upon my word, mademoiselle,” said the princess, shrugging her + shoulders, “you talk nonsense. You forget that society has + inalienable moral rights, which we are bound to enforce. And we shall not + neglect them, depend upon it.” + </p> + <p> + “So madame, it is you, and M. d’Aigrigny, and M. Tripeaud, + that represent the morality of society! This appears to me very fine. Is + it because M. Tripeaud has considered (I must acknowledge it) my fortune + as his own? Is it because—” + </p> + <p> + “Now, really, madame,” began Tripeaud. + </p> + <p> + “In good time, madame,” said Adrienne to her aunt, without + noticing the baron, “as the occasion offers, I shall have to ask you + for explanations with regard to certain interests, which have hitherto, I + think, been concealed from me.” + </p> + <p> + These words of Adrienne made D’Aigrigny and the princess start, and + then rapidly exchange a glance of uneasiness and anxiety. Adrienne did not + seem to perceive it, but thus continued: “To have done with your + demands, madame, here is my final resolve. I shall live where and how I + please. I think that, if I were a man, no one would impose on me, at my + age, the harsh and humiliating guardianship you have in view, for living + as I have lived till now—honestly, freely, and generously, in the + sight of all.” + </p> + <p> + “This idea is absurd! is madness!” cried the princess. “To + wish to live thus alone, is to carry immorality and immodesty to their + utmost limits.” + </p> + <p> + “If so, madame,” said Adrienne, “what opinion must you + entertain of so many poor girls, orphans like myself, who live alone and + free, as I wish to live? They have not received, as I have, a refined + education, calculated to raise the soul, and purify the heart. They have + not wealth, as I have, to protect them from the evil temptations of + misery; and yet they live honestly and proudly in their distress.” + </p> + <p> + “Vice and virtue do not exist for such tag-rag vermin!” cried + Baron Tripeaud, with an expression of anger and hideous disdain. + </p> + <p> + “Madame, you would turn away a lackey, that would venture to speak + thus before you,” said Adrienne to her aunt, unable to conceal her + disgust, “and yet you oblige me to listen to such speeches!” + </p> + <p> + The Marquis d’Aigrigny touched M. Tripeaud with his knee under the + table, to remind him that he must not express himself in the princess’s + parlors in the same manner as he would in the lobbies of the Exchange. To + repair the baron’s coarseness, the abbe thus continued: “There + is no comparison, mademoiselle, between people of the class you name, and + a young lady of your rank.” + </p> + <p> + “For a Catholic priest, M. l’Abbe, that distinction is not + very Christian,” replied Adrienne. + </p> + <p> + “I know the purport of my words, madame,” answered the abbe, + dryly; “besides the independent life that you wish to lead, in + opposition to all reason, may tend to very serious consequences for you. + Your family may one day wish to see you married—” + </p> + <p> + “I will spare my family that trouble, sir, if I marry at all, I will + choose for myself, which also appears to me reasonable enough. But, in + truth, I am very little tempted by that heavy chain, which selfishness and + brutality rivet for ever about our necks.” + </p> + <p> + “It is indecent, madame,” said the princess, “to speak + so lightly of such an institution.” + </p> + <p> + “Before you, especially, madame, I beg pardon for having shocked + your highness! You fear that my independent planner of living will + frighten away all wooers; but that is another reason for persisting in my + independence, for I detest wooers. I only hope that they may have the very + worst opinion of me, and there is no better means of effecting that + object, than to appear to live as they live themselves. I rely upon my + whims, my follies, my sweet faults, to preserve me from the annoyance of + any matrimonial hunting.” + </p> + <p> + “You will be quite satisfied on that head,” resumed Madame de + Saint Dizier, “if unfortunately the report should gain credit, that + you have carried the forgetfulness of all duty and decency, to such a + height, as to return home at eight o’clock in the morning. So I am + told is the case but I cannot bring myself to believe such an enormity.” + </p> + <p> + “You are wrong, madame, for it is quite true.” + </p> + <p> + “So you confess it?” cried the princess. + </p> + <p> + “I confess all that I do, madame. I came home this morning at eight + o’clock.” + </p> + <p> + “You hear Gentlemen?” ejaculated the princess. + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” said M. d’Aigrigny, in a bass voice. + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” said the baron, in a treble key. + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” muttered the doctor, with a deep sigh. + </p> + <p> + On hearing these lamentable exclamations, Adrienne seemed about to speak, + perhaps to justify herself; but her lip speedily assumed a curl of + contempt, which showed that she disdained to stoop to any explanation. + </p> + <p> + “So it is true,” said the princess. “Oh, wretched girl, + you had accustomed me to be astonished at nothing; but, nevertheless, I + doubted the possibility of such conduct. It required your impudent and + audacious reply to convince the of the fact.” + </p> + <p> + “Madame, lying has always appeared to be more impudent than to speak + the truth.” + </p> + <p> + “And where had you been, madame? and for what?” + </p> + <p> + “Madame,” said Adrienne, interrupting her aunt, “I never + speak false—but neither do I speak more than I choose; and then + again, it were cowardice to defend myself from a revolting accusation. Let + us say no more about it: your importunities on this head will be + altogether vain. To resume: you wish to impose upon me a harsh and + humiliating restraint; I wish to quit the house I inhabit, to go and live + where I please, at my own fancy. Which of us two will yield, remains to be + seen. Now for another matter: this mansion belongs to me! As I am about to + leave it, I am indifferent whether you continue to live here or not; but + the ground floor is uninhabited. It contains, besides the reception-rooms, + two complete sets of apartments; I have let them for some time.” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed!” said the princess, looking at D’Aigrigny with + intense surprise. “And to whom,” she added ironically, “have + you disposed of them?” + </p> + <p> + “To three members of my family.” + </p> + <p> + “What does all this mean?” said Mme. de Saint-Dizier, more and + more astonished. + </p> + <p> + “It means, madame, that I wish to offer a generous hospitality to a + young Indian prince, my kinsman on my mother’s side. He will arrive + in two or three days, and I wish to have the rooms ready to receive him.” + </p> + <p> + “You hear, gentlemen?” said D’Aigrigny to the doctor and + Tripeaud, with an affectation of profound stupor. + </p> + <p> + “It surpasses all one could imagine!” exclaimed the baron. + </p> + <p> + “Alas!” observed the doctor, benignantly, “the impulse + is generous in itself—but the mad little head crops out?” + </p> + <p> + “Excellent!” said the princes. “I cannot prevent you + madame, from announcing the most extravagant designs but it is presumable + that you will not stop short in so fair a path. Is that all?” + </p> + <p> + “Not quite, your highness. I learned this morning, that two of my + female relations, also on my mother’s side—poor children of + fifteen—orphan daughters of Marshal Simon arrived yesterday from a + long journey, and are now with the wife of the brave soldier who brought + them to France from the depths of Siberia.” + </p> + <p> + At these words from Adrienne, D’Aigrigny and the princess could not + help starting suddenly, and staring at each other with affright, so far + were they from expecting that Mdlle. de Cardoville was informed of the + coming of Marshal Simon’s daughters. This discovery was like a + thunder-clap to them. + </p> + <p> + “You are no doubt astonished at seeing me so well informed,” + said Adrienne; “fortunately, before I have done, I hope to astonish + you still more. But to return to these daughters of Marshal Simon: your + highness will understand, that it is impossible for me to leave them in + charge of the good people who have afforded them a temporary asylum. + Though this family is honest, and hard-working, it is not the place for + them. I shall go and fetch them hither, and lodge them in apartments on + the ground-floor, along with the soldier’s wife, who will do very + well to take care of them.” + </p> + <p> + Upon these words, D’Aigrigny and the baron looked at each other, and + the baron exclaimed: “Decidedly, she’s out of her head.” + </p> + <p> + Without a word to Tripeaud, Adrienne continued: “Marshal Simon + cannot fail to arrive at Paris shortly. Your highness perceives how + pleasant it will he, to be able to present his daughters to him, and prove + that they have been treated as they deserve. To-morrow morning I shall + send for milliners and mantua makers, so that they may want for nothing. I + desire their surprised father, on his return, to find them every way + beautiful. They are pretty, I am told, as angels—but I will endeavor + to make little Cupids of them.” + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:65%;"> + <img src="images/10395m.jpg" alt="10395m " width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/10395.jpg"><i>Original</i></a> + </h5> + <p> + “At last, madame, you must have finished?” said the princess, + in a sardonic and deeply irritated tone, whilst D’Aigrigny, calm and + cold in appearance, could hardly dissemble his mental anguish. + </p> + <p> + “Try again!” continued the princess, addressing Adrienne. + “Are there no more relations that you wish to add to this + interesting family-group? Really a queen could not act with more + magnificence.” + </p> + <p> + “Right! I wish to give my family a royal reception—such as is + due to the son of a king, and the daughters of the Duke de Ligny. It is + well to unite other luxuries of life with the luxury of the hospitable + heart.” + </p> + <p> + “The maxim is assuredly generous,” said the princess, becoming + more and more agitated; “it is only a pity that you do not possess + the mines of El Dorado to make it practicable.” + </p> + <p> + “It was on the subject of a mine, said to be a rich one, that I also + wished to speak to your highness. Could I find a better opportunity? + Though my fortune is already considerable, it is nothing to what may come + to our family at any moment. You will perhaps excuse, therefore, what you + are pleased to call my royal prodigalities.” + </p> + <p> + D’Aigrigny’s dilemma became momentarily more and more thorny. + The affair of the medals was so important, that he had concealed it even + from Dr. Baleinier, though he had called in his services to forward + immense interests. Neither had Tripeaud been informed of it, for the + princess believed that she had destroyed every vestige of those papers of + Adrienne’s father, which might have put him on the scent of this + discovery. The abbe, therefore was not only greatly alarmed that Mdlle. de + Cardoville might be informed of this secret, but he trembled lest she + should divulge it. + </p> + <p> + The princess, sharing the alarms of D’Aigrigny, interrupted her + niece by exclaiming: “Madame, there are certain family affairs which + ought to be kept secret, and, without exactly understanding to what you + allude, I must request you to change the subject.” + </p> + <p> + “What, madame! are we not here a family party? Is that not + sufficiently evident by the somewhat ungracious things that have been here + said?” + </p> + <p> + “No matter, madame! when affairs of interest are concerned, which + are more or less disputable, it is perfectly useless to speak of them + without the documents laid before every one.” + </p> + <p> + “And of what have we been speaking this hour, madame, if not of + affairs of interest? I really do not understand your surprise and + embarrassment.” + </p> + <p> + “I am neither surprised nor embarrassed, madame; but for the last + two hours, you have obliged me to listen to so many new and extravagant + things, that a little amaze is very permissible.” + </p> + <p> + “I beg your highness’s pardon, but you are very much + embarrassed,” said Adrienne, looking fixedly at her aunt, “and + M. d’Aigrigny also—which confirms certain suspicions that I + have not had the time to clear up. Have I then guessed rightly?” she + added, after a pause. “We will see—” + </p> + <p> + “Madame, I command you to be silent,” cried the princess, no + longer mistress of herself. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, madame!” said Adrienne, “for a person who has in + general so much command of her feelings, you compromise yourself + strangely.” + </p> + <p> + Providence (as some will have it) came to the aid of the princess and the + Abbe d’Aigrigny at this critical juncture. A valet entered the room; + his countenance bore such marks of fright and agitation, that the princess + exclaimed as soon as she saw him: “Why, Dubois! what is the matter?” + </p> + <p> + “I have to beg pardon, your highness, for interrupting you against + your express orders, but a police inspector demands to speak with you + instantly. He is below stairs, and the yard is full of policemen and + soldiers.” + </p> + <p> + Notwithstanding the profound surprise which this new incident occasioned + her, the princess, determining to profit by the opportunity thus afforded, + to concert prompt measures with D’Aigrigny on the subject of + Adrienne’s threatened revelations, rose, and said to the abbe: + “Will you be so obliging as to accompany me, M. d’Aigrigny, + for I do not know what the presence of this commissary of police may + signify.” + </p> + <p> + D’Aigrigny followed the speaker into the next room. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0041" id="link2HCH0041"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XLI. TREACHERY. + </h2> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>he Princess de + Saint-Dizier, accompanied by D’Aigrigny, and followed by the + servants, stopped short in the next room to that in which had remained + Adrienne, Tripeaud and the doctor. + </p> + <p> + “Where is the commissary?” asked the princess of the servant, + who had just before announced to her the arrival of that magistrate. + </p> + <p> + “In the blue saloon, madame.” + </p> + <p> + “My compliments, and beg him to wait for me a few moments.” + </p> + <p> + The man bowed and withdrew. As soon as he was gone Madame de Saint Dizier + approached hastily M. d’Aigrigny, whose countenance, usually firm + and haughty, was now pale and agitated. + </p> + <p> + “You see,” cried the princess in a hurried voice, “Adrienne + knows all. What shall we do?—what?” + </p> + <p> + “I cannot tell,” said the abbe, with a fixed and absent look. + “This disclosure is a terrible blow to us.” + </p> + <p> + “Is all, then, lost?” + </p> + <p> + “There is only one means of safety,” said M. d’Aigrigny;—“the + doctor.” + </p> + <p> + “But how?” cried the princess. “So, sudden? this very + day?” + </p> + <p> + “Two hours hence, it will be too late; ere then, this infernal girl + will have seen Marshal Simon’s daughters.” + </p> + <p> + “But—Frederick!—it is impossible! M. Baleinier will + never consent. I ought to have been prepared before hand as we intended, + after to-day’s examination.” + </p> + <p> + “No matter,” replied the abbe, quickly; “the doctor must + try at any hazard.” + </p> + <p> + “But under what pretext?” + </p> + <p> + “I will try and find one.” + </p> + <p> + “Suppose you were to find a pretext, Frederick, and we could act + immediately—nothing would be ready down there.” + </p> + <p> + “Be satisfied: they are always ready there, by habitual foresight.” + </p> + <p> + “How instruct the doctor on the instant?” resumed the + princess. + </p> + <p> + “To send for him would be to rouse the suspicions of your niece,” + said M. d’Aigrigny, thoughtfully; “and we must avoid that + before everything.” + </p> + <p> + “Of course,” answered the princess; “her confidence in + the doctor is one of our greatest resources.” + </p> + <p> + “There is a way,” said the abbe quickly; “I will write a + few words in haste to Baleinier: one of your people can take the note to + him, as if it came from without—from a patient dangerously ill.” + </p> + <p> + “An excellent idea!” cried the princess. “You are right. + Here—upon this table—there is everything necessary for + writing. Quick! quick—But will the doctor succeed?” + </p> + <p> + “In truth, I scarcely dare to hope it,” said the marquis, + sitting down at the table with repressed rage. “Thanks to this + examination, going beyond our hopes, which our man, hidden behind the + curtain, has faithfully taken down in shorthand—thanks to the + violent scenes, which would necessarily have occurred to-morrow and the + day after—the doctor, by fencing himself round with all sorts of + clever precautions, would have been able to act with the most complete + certainty. But to ask this of him to-day, on the instant!—Herminia—it + is folly to think of!”—The marquis threw down the pen which he + held in his hand; then he added, in a tone of bitter and profound + irritation: “At the very moment of success—to see all our + hopes destroyed!—Oh, the consequences of all this are incalculable. + Your niece will be the cause of the greatest mischief—oh! the + greatest injury to us.” + </p> + <p> + It is impossible to describe the expression of deep rage and implacable + hatred with which D’Aigrigny uttered these last words. + </p> + <p> + “Frederick,” cried the princess with anxiety, as she clasped + her hands strongly around the abbe’s, “I conjure you, do not + despair!—The doctor is fertile in resources, and he is so devoted to + us. Let us at least, make the attempt.” + </p> + <p> + “Well—it is at least a chance,” said the abbe, taking up + the pen again. + </p> + <p> + “Should it come to the worst.” said the princess, “and + Adrienne go this evening to fetch General Simon’s daughters, she may + perhaps no longer find them. + </p> + <p> + “We cannot hope for that. It is impossible that Rodin’s orders + should have been so quickly executed. We should have been informed of it.” + </p> + <p> + “It is true. Write then to the doctor; I will send you Dubois, to + carry your letter. Courage, Frederick! we shall yet be too much for that + ungovernable girl.” Madame de Saint-Dizier added, with concentrated + rage: “Oh, Adrienne! Adrienne! you shall pay dearly for your + insolent sarcasms, and the anxiety you have caused us.” + </p> + <p> + As she went out, the princess turned towards M. d’Aigrigny, and said + to him: “Wait for me here. I will tell you the meaning of this visit + of the police, and we will go in together.” + </p> + <p> + The princess disappeared. D’Aigrigny dashed off a few words, with a + trembling hand. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0042" id="link2HCH0042"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XLII. THE SNARE. + </h2> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">A</span>fter the departure + of Madame de Saint-Dizier and the marquis, Adrienne had remained in her + aunt’s apartment with M. Baleinier and Baron Tripeaud. + </p> + <p> + On hearing of the commissary’s arrival, Mdlle. de Cardoville had + felt considerable uneasiness; for there could be no doubt that, as + Agricola had apprehended, this magistrate was come to search the hotel and + extension, in order to find the smith, whom he believed to be concealed + there. + </p> + <p> + Though she looked upon Agricola’s hiding-place as a very safe one, + Adrienne was not quite tranquil on his account; so in the event of any + unfortunate accident, she thought it a good opportunity to recommend the + refugee to the doctor, an intimate friend, as we have said, of one of the + most influential ministers of the day. So, drawing near to the physician, + who was conversing in a low voice with the baron, she said to him in her + softest and most coaxing manner: “My good M. Baleinier, I wish to + speak a few words with you.” She pointed to the deep recess of one + of the windows. + </p> + <p> + “I am at your orders, madame,” answered the doctor, as he rose + to follow Adrienne to the recess. + </p> + <p> + M. Tripeaud, who, no longer sustained by the abbe’s presence, + dreaded the young lady as he did fire, was not sorry for this diversion. + To keep up appearances, he stationed himself before one of the sacred + pictures, and began again to contemplate it, as if there were no bounds to + his admiration. + </p> + <p> + When Mdlle. de Cardoville was far enough from the baron, not to be + overheard by him, she said to the physician, who, all smiles and + benevolence, waited for her to explain: “My good doctor, you are my + friend, as you were my father’s. Just now, notwithstanding the + difficulty of your position, you had the courage to show yourself my only + partisan.” + </p> + <p> + “Not at all, madame; do not go and say such things!” cried the + doctor, affecting a pleasant kind of anger. “Plague on’t! you + would get me into a pretty scrape; so pray be silent on that subject. Vade + retro Satanas!—which means: Get thee behind me, charming little + demon that you are!” + </p> + <p> + “Do not be afraid,” answered Adrienne, with a smile; “I + will not compromise you. Only allow me to remind you, that you have often + made me offers of service, and spoken to me of your devotion.” + </p> + <p> + “Put me to the test—and you will see if I do not keep my + promises.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, then! give me a proof on the instant,” said Adrienne, + quickly. + </p> + <p> + “Capital! this is how I like to be taken at my word. What can I do + for you?” + </p> + <p> + “Are you still very intimate with your friend the minister?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; I am just treating him for a loss of voice, which he always + has, the day they put questions to him in the house. He likes it better.” + </p> + <p> + “I want you to obtain from him something very important for me.” + </p> + <p> + “For you? pray, what is it?” + </p> + <p> + At this instant, the valet entered the room, delivered a letter to M. + Baleinier, and said to him: “A footman has just brought this letter + for you, sir; it is very pressing.” + </p> + <p> + The physician took the letter, and the servant went out. + </p> + <p> + “This is one of the inconveniences of merit,” said Adrienne, + smiling; “they do not leave you a moment’s rest, my poor + doctor.” + </p> + <p> + “Do not speak of it, madame,” said the physician, who could + not conceal a start of amazement, as he recognized the writing of D’Aigrigny; + “these patients think we are made of iron, and have monopolized the + health which they so much need. They have really no mercy. With your + permission, madame,” added M. Baleinier, looking at Adrienne before + he unsealed the letter. + </p> + <p> + Mdlle. de Cardoville answered by a graceful nod. Marquis d’Aigrigny’s + letter was not long; the doctor read it at a single glance, and, + notwithstanding his habitual prudence, he shrugged his shoulders, and said + hastily: “Today! why, it’s impossible. He is mad.” + </p> + <p> + “You speak no doubt of some poor patient, who has placed all his + hopes in you—who waits and calls for you at this moment. Come, my + dear M. Baleinier, do not reject his prayer. It is so sweet to justify the + confidence we inspire.” + </p> + <p> + There was at once so much analogy, and such contradiction, between the + object of this letter, written just before by Adrienne’s most + implacable enemy, and these words of commiseration which she spoke in a + touching voice, that Dr. Baleinier himself could not help being struck + with it. He looked at Mdlle. de Cardoville with an almost embarrassed air, + as he replied: “I am indeed speaking of one of my patients, who + counts much upon me—a great deal too much—for he asks me to do + an impossibility. But why do you feel so interested in an unknown person?” + </p> + <p> + “If he is unfortunate, I know enough to interest me. The person for + whom I ask your assistance with the minister, was quite as little known to + me; and now I take the deepest interest in him. I must tell you, that he + is the son of the worthy soldier who brought Marshal Simon’s + daughters from the heart of Siberia.” + </p> + <p> + “What! he is—” + </p> + <p> + “An honest workman, the support of his family; but I must tell you + all about it—this is how the affair took place.” + </p> + <p> + The confidential communication which Adrienne was going to make to the + doctor, was cut short by Madame Saint-Dizier, who, followed by M. d’Aigrigny, + opened abruptly the door. An expression of infernal joy, hardly concealed + beneath a semblance of extreme indignation, was visible in her + countenance. + </p> + <p> + M. d’Aigrigny threw rapidly, as he entered the apartment, an + inquiring and anxious glance at M. Baleinier. The doctor answered by a + shake of the head. The abbe bit his lips with silent rage; he had built + his last hopes upon the doctor, and his projects seemed now forever + annihilated, notwithstanding the new blow which the princess had in + reserve for Adrienne. + </p> + <p> + “Gentlemen,” said Madame de Saint-Dizier, in a sharp, hurried + voice, for she was nearly choking with wicked pleasure, “gentlemen, + pray be seated! I have some new and curious things to tell you, on the + subject of this young lady.” She pointed to her niece, with a look + of ineffable hatred and disdain. + </p> + <p> + “My poor child, what is the matter now?” said M. Baleinier, in + a soft, wheedling tone, before he left the window where he was standing + with Adrienne. “Whatever happens, count upon me!”—And + the physician went to seat himself between M. d’Aigrigny and M. + Tripeaud. + </p> + <p> + At her aunt’s insolent address, Mdlle. de Cardoville had proudly + lined her head. The blood rushed to her face, and irritated at the new + attacks with which she was menaced, she advanced to the table where the + princess was seated, and said in an agitated voice to M. Baleinier: + “I shall expect you to call on me as soon as possible, my dear + doctor. You know that I wish particularly to speak with you.” + </p> + <p> + Adrienne made one step towards the arm-chair, on which she had left her + hat. The princess rose abruptly, and exclaimed: “What are you doing, + madame?” + </p> + <p> + “I am about to retire. Your highness has expressed to me your will, + and I have told you mine. It is enough.” + </p> + <p> + She took her hat. Madame de Saint-Dizier, seeing her prey about to escape, + hastened towards her niece, and, in defiance of all propriety, seized her + violently by the arm with a convulsive grasp, and bade her, “Remain!” + </p> + <p> + “Fie, madame!” exclaimed Adrienne, with an accent of painful + contempt, “have we sunk so low?” + </p> + <p> + “You wish to escape—you are afraid!” resumed Madame de + Saint-Dizier, looking at her disdainfully from head to foot. + </p> + <p> + With these words “you are afraid,” you could have made + Adrienne de Cardoville walk into a fiery furnace. Disengaging her arm from + her aunt’s grasp, with a gesture full of nobleness and pride, she + threw down the hat upon the chair, and returning to the table, said + imperiously to the princess: “There is something even stronger than + the disgust with which all this inspires me—the fear of being + accused of cowardice. Go on, madame! I am listening!” + </p> + <p> + With her head raised, her color somewhat heightened, her glance half + veiled by a tear of indignation, her arms folded over her bosom, which + heaved in spite of herself with deep emotion, and her little foot beating + convulsively on the carpet, Adrienne looked steadily at her aunt. The + princess wished to infuse drop by drop, the poison with which she was + swelling, and make her victim suffer as long as possible, feeling certain + that she could not escape. “Gentlemen,” said Madame de + Saint-Dizier, in a forced voice, “this has occurred: I was told that + the commissary of police wished to speak with me: I went to receive this + magistrate; he excused himself, with a troubled air, for the nature of the + duty he had to perform. A man, against whom a warrant was out, had been + seen to enter the garden-house.” + </p> + <p> + Adrienne started, there could be no doubt that Agricola was meant. But she + recovered her tranquillity, when she thought of the security of the + hiding-place she had given him. + </p> + <p> + “The magistrate,” continued the princess, “asked my + consent to search the hotel and extension, to discover this man. It was + his right. I begged him to commence with the garden-house, and accompanied + him. Notwithstanding the improper conduct of Mademoiselle, it never, I + confess, entered my head for a moment, that she was in any way mixed up + with this police business. I was deceived.” + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean, madame?” cried Adrienne. + </p> + <p> + “You shall know all, madame,” said the princess, with a + triumphant air, “in good time. You were in rather too great a hurry + just now, to show yourself so proud and satirical. Well! I accompanied the + commissary in his search; we came to the summer-house; I leave you to + imagine the stupor and astonishment of the magistrate, on seeing three + creatures dressed up like actresses. At my request, the fact was noted in + the official report; for it is well to reveal such extravagances to all + whom it may concern.” + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:65%;"> + <img src="images/10405m.jpg" alt="10305m " width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/10405.jpg"><i>Original</i></a> + </h5> + <p> + “The princess acted very wisely,” said Tripeaud, bowing; + “it is well that the authorities should be informed of such matters.” + </p> + <p> + Adrienne, too much interested in the fate of the workman to think of + answering Tripeaud or the princess, listened in silence, and strove to + conceal her uneasiness. + </p> + <p> + “The magistrate,” resumed Madame de Saint-Dizier, “began + by a severe examination of these young girls; to learn if any man had, + with their knowledge, been introduced into the house; with incredible + effrontery, they answered that they had seen nobody enter.” + </p> + <p> + “The true-hearted, honest girls!” thought Mademoiselle de + Cardoville, full of joy; “the poor workman is safe! the protection + of Dr. Baleinier will do the rest.” + </p> + <p> + “Fortunately,” continued the princess, “one of my women, + Mrs. Grivois, had accompanied me. This excellent person, remembering to + have seen Mademoiselle return home at eight o’clock in the morning, + remarked with much simplicity to the magistrate, that the man, whom they + sought, might probably have entered by the little garden gate, left open, + accidentally, by Mademoiselle.” + </p> + <p> + “It would have been well, madame,” said Tripeaud, “to + have caused to be noted also in the report, that Mademoiselle had returned + home at eight o’clock in the morning.” + </p> + <p> + “I do not see the necessity for this,” said the doctor, + faithful to his part: “it would have been quite foreign to the + search carried on by the commissary.” + </p> + <p> + “But, doctor,” said Tripeaud. + </p> + <p> + “But, baron,” resumed M. Baleinier, in a firm voice, “that + is my opinion.” + </p> + <p> + “It was not mine, doctor,” said the princess; “like M. + Tripeaud, I considered it important to establish the fact by an entry in + the report, and I saw, by the confused and troubled countenance of the + magistrate, how painful it was to register the scandalous conduct of a + young person placed in so high a position in society.” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly, madame,” said Adrienne, losing patience, “I + believe your modesty to be about equal to that of this candid commissary + of police; but it seems to me, that your mutual innocence was alarmed a + little too soon. You might, and ought to have reflected, that there was + nothing extraordinary in my coming home at eight o’clock, if I had + gone out at six.” + </p> + <p> + “The excuse, though somewhat tardy, is at least cunning,” said + the princess, spitefully. + </p> + <p> + “I do not excuse myself, madame,” said Adrienne; “but as + M. Baleinier has been kind enough to speak a word in my favor, I give the + possible interpretation of a fact, which it would not become me to explain + in your presence.” + </p> + <p> + “The fact will stand, however, in the report,” said Tripeaud, + “until the explanation is given.” + </p> + <p> + Abbe d’Aigrigny, his forehead resting on his hand, remained as if a + stranger to this scene; he was too much occupied with his fears at the + consequences of the approaching interview between Mdlle. de Cardoville and + Marshal Simon’s daughters—for there seemed no possibility of + using force to prevent Adrienne from going out that evening. + </p> + <p> + Madame de Saint-Dizier went on: “The fact which so greatly + scandalized the commissary is nothing compared to what I yet have to tell + you, gentlemen. We had searched all parts of the pavilion without finding + any one, and were just about to quit the bed-chamber, for we had taken + this room the last, when Mrs. Grivois pointed out to us that one of the + golden mouldings of a panel did not appear to come quite home to the wall. + We drew the attention of the magistrate to this circumstance; his men + examined, touched, felt—the panel flew open!—and then—can + you guess what we discovered? But, no! it is too odious, too revolting; I + dare not even—” + </p> + <p> + “Then I dare, madame,” said Adrienne, resolutely, though she + saw with the utmost grief the retreat of Agricola was discovered; “I + will spare your highness’s candor the recital of this new scandal, + and yet what I am about to say is in nowise intended as a justification.” + </p> + <p> + “It requires one, however,” said Madame de Saint-Dizier, with + a disdainful smile; “a man concealed by you in your own bedroom.” + </p> + <p> + “A man concealed in her bedroom!” cried the Marquis d’Aigrigny, + raising his head with apparent indignation, which only covered a cruel + joy. + </p> + <p> + “A man! in the bedroom of Mademoiselle!” added Baron Tripeaud. + “I hope this also was inserted in the report.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes, baron,” said the princess with a triumphant air. + </p> + <p> + “But this man,” said the doctor, in a hypocritical tone, + “must have been a robber? Any other supposition would be in the + highest degree improbable. This explains itself.” + </p> + <p> + “Your indulgence deceives you, M. Baleinier,” answered the + princess, dryly. + </p> + <p> + “We knew the sort of thieves,” said Tripeaud; “they are + generally young men, handsome, and very rich.” + </p> + <p> + “You are wrong, sir,” resumed Madame de Saint-Dizier. “Mademoiselle + does not raise her views so high. She proves that a dereliction from duty + may be ignoble as well as criminal. I am no longer astonished at the + sympathy which was just now professed for the lower orders. It is the more + touching and affecting, as the man concealed by her was dressed in a + blouse.” + </p> + <p> + “A blouse!” cried the baron, with an air of extreme disgust; + “then he is one of the common people? It really makes one’s + hair stand on end.” + </p> + <p> + “The man is a working smith—he confessed it,” said the + princess; “but not to be unjust—he is really a good-looking + fellow. It was doubtless that singular worship which Mademoiselle pays to + the beautiful—” + </p> + <p> + “Enough, madame, enough!” said Adrienne suddenly, for, + hitherto disdaining to answer, she had listened to her aunt with growing + and painful indignation; “I was just now on the point of defending + myself against one of your odious insinuations—but I will not a + second time descend to any such weakness. One word only, madame; has this + honest and worthy artisan been arrested?” + </p> + <p> + “To be sure, he has been arrested and taken to prison, under a + strong escort. Does not that pierce your heart?” sneered the + princess, with a triumphant air. “Your tender pity for this + interesting smith must indeed be very great, since it deprives you of your + sarcastic assurance.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, madame; for I have something better to do than to satirize + that which is utterly odious and ridiculous,” replied Adrienne, + whose eyes grew dim with tears at the thought of the cruel hurt to + Agricola’s family. Then, putting her hat on, and tying the strings, + she said to the doctor: “M. Baleinier, I asked you just now for your + interest with the minister.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, madame; and it will give me great pleasure to act on your + behalf.” + </p> + <p> + “Is your carriage below?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, madame,” said the doctor, much surprised. + </p> + <p> + “You will be good enough to accompany me immediately to the minister’s. + Introduced by you, he will not refuse me the favor, or rather the act of + justice, that I have to solicit.” + </p> + <p> + “What, mademoiselle,” said the princess; “do you dare + take such a course, without my orders, after what has just passed? It is + really quite unheard-of.” + </p> + <p> + “It confounds one,” added Tripeaud; “but we must not be + surprised at anything.” + </p> + <p> + The moment Adrienne asked the doctor if his carriage was below, D’Aigrigny + started. A look of intense satisfaction flashed across his countenance, + and he could hardly repress the violence of his delight, when, darting, a + rapid and significant glance at the doctor, he saw the latter respond to + it by trace closing his eyelids in token of comprehension and assent. + </p> + <p> + When therefore the princess resumed, in an angry tone, addressing herself + to Adrienne: “Madame, I forbid you leaving the house!”—D’Aigrigny + said to the speaker, with a peculiar inflection of the voice: “I + think, your highness, we may trust the lady to the doctor’s care.” + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:65%;"> + <img src="images/10389m.jpg" alt="10389m " width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/10389.jpg"><i>Original</i></a> + </h5> + <p> + The marquis pronounced these words in so significant a manner, that the + princess, having looked by turns at the physician and D’Aigrigny, + understood it all, and her countenance grew radiant with joy. + </p> + <p> + Not only did this pass with extreme rapidity, but the night was already + almost come, so that Adrienne, absorbed in painful thoughts with regard to + Agricola, did not perceive the different signals exchanged between the + princess, the doctor, and the abbe. Even had she done so, they would have + been incomprehensible to her. + </p> + <p> + Not wishing to have the appearance of yielding too readily, to the + suggestion of the marquis, Madame de Saint-Dizier resumed: “Though + the doctor seems to me to be far too indulgent to mademoiselle, I might + not see any great objection to trusting her with him; but that I do not + wish to establish such a precedent, for hence forward she must have no + will but mine.” + </p> + <p> + “Madame,” said the physician gravely, feigning to be somewhat + shocked by the words of the Princess de Saint-Dizier, “I do not + think I have been too indulgent to mademoiselle—but only just. I am + at her orders, to take her to the minister if she wishes it. I do not know + what she intends to solicit, but I believe her incapable of abusing the + confidence I repose in her, or making me support a recommendation + undeserved.” + </p> + <p> + Adrienne, much moved, extended her hand cordially to the doctor, and said + to him: “Rest assured, my excellent friend, that you will thank me + for the step I am taking, for you will assist in a noble action.” + </p> + <p> + Tripeaud, who was not in the secret of the new plans of the doctor and the + abbe in a low voice faltered to the latter, with a stupefied air, “What! + will you let her go?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes,” answered D’Aigrigny abruptly, making a sign + that he should listen to the princess, who was about to speak. Advancing + towards her niece, she said to her in a slow and measured tone, laying a + peculiar emphasis on every word: “One moment more, mademoiselle—one + last word in presence of these gentlemen. Answer me! Notwithstanding the + heavy charges impending over you, are you still determined to resist my + formal commands?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, madame.” + </p> + <p> + “Notwithstanding the scandalous exposure which has just taken place, + you still persist in withdrawing yourself from my authority?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, madame.” + </p> + <p> + “You refuse positively to submit to the regular and decent mode of + life which I would impose upon you?” + </p> + <p> + “I have already told you, madame, that I am about to quit this + dwelling in order to live alone and after my own fashion.” + </p> + <p> + “Is that your final decision?” + </p> + <p> + “It is my last word.” + </p> + <p> + “Reflect! the matter is serious. Beware!” + </p> + <p> + “I have given your highness my last word, and I never speak it + twice.” + </p> + <p> + “Gentlemen, you hear all this?” resumed the princess; “I + have tried in vain all that was possible to conciliate. Mademoiselle will + have only herself to thank for the measures to which this audacious revolt + will oblige me to have recourse.” + </p> + <p> + “Be it so, madame,” replied Adrienne. Then, addressing M. + Baleinier, she said quickly to him: “Come, my dear doctor; I am + dying with impatience. Let us set out immediately. Every minute lost may + occasion bitter tears to an honest family.” + </p> + <p> + So saying, Adrienne left the room precipitately with the physician. One of + the servants called for M. Baleinier’s carriage. Assisted by the + doctor, Adrienne mounted the step, without perceiving that he said + something in a low whisper to the footman that opened the coach-door. + </p> + <p> + When, however, he was seated by the side of Mdlle. de Cardoville, and the + door was closed upon them, he waited for about a second, and then called + out in a loud voice to the coachman: “To the house of the minister, + by the private entrance!” The horses started at a gallop. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0043" id="link2HCH0043"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XLIII. A FALSE FRIEND. + </h2> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">N</span>ight had set in + dark and cold. The sky, which had been clear till the sun went down, was + now covered with gray and lurid clouds; a strong wind raised here and + there, in circling eddies, the snow that was beginning to fall thick and + fast. + </p> + <p> + The lamps threw a dubious light into the interior of Dr. Baleinier’s + carriage, in which he was seated alone with Adrienne de Cardoville. The + charming countenance of the latter, faintly illumined by the lamps beneath + the shade of her little gray hat, looked doubly white and pure in contrast + with the dark lining of the carriage, which was now filled with that, + sweet, delicious, and almost voluptuous perfume which hangs about the + garments of young women of taste. The attitude of the girl, seated next to + the doctor, was full of grace. Her slight and elegant figure, imprisoned + in her high-necked dress of blue cloth, imprinted its wavy outline on the + soft cushion against which she leaned; her little feet, crossed one upon + the other, and stretched rather forward, rested upon a thick bear-skin, + which carpeted the bottom of the carriage. In her hand, which was ungloved + and dazzlingly white, she held a magnificently embroidered handkerchief, + with which, to the great astonishment of M. Baleinier, she dried her eyes, + now filled with tears. + </p> + <p> + Yes; Adrienne wept, for she now felt the reaction from the painful scenes + through which she had passed at Saint-Dizier House; to the feverish and + nervous excitement, which had till then sustained her, had succeeded a + sorrowful dejection. Resolute in her independence, proud in her disdain, + implacable in her irony, audacious in her resistance to unjust oppression, + Adrienne was yet endowed with the most acute sensibility, which she always + dissembled, however, in the presence of her aunt and those who surrounded + her. + </p> + <p> + Notwithstanding her courage, no one could have been less masculine, less + of a virago, than Mdlle. Cardoville. She was essentially womanly, but as a + woman, she knew how to exercise great empire over herself, the moment that + the least mark of weakness on her part would have rejoiced or emboldened + her enemies. + </p> + <p> + The carriage had rolled onwards for some minutes; but Adrienne, drying her + tears in silence, to the doctor’s great astonishment, had not yet + uttered a word. + </p> + <p> + “What, my dear Mdlle. Adrienne?” said M. Baleinier, truly + surprised at her emotion; “what! you, that were just now so + courageous, weeping?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” answered Adrienne, in an agitated voice; “I weep + in presence of a friend; but, before my aunt—oh! never.” + </p> + <p> + “And yet, in that long interview, your stinging replies—” + </p> + <p> + “Ah me! do you think that I resigned myself with pleasure to that + war of sarcasm? Nothing is more painful to me than such combats of bitter + irony, to which I am forced by the necessity of defending myself from this + woman and her friends. You speak of my courage: it does not consist, I + assure you, in the display of wicked feelings—but in the power to + repress and hide all that I suffer, when I hear myself treated so grossly—in + the presence, too, of people that I hate and despise—when, after + all, I have never done them any harm, and have only asked to be allowed to + live alone, freely and quietly, and see those about me happy.” + </p> + <p> + “That’s where it is: they envy your happiness, and that which + you bestow upon others.” + </p> + <p> + “And it is my aunt,” cried Adrienne, with indignation, “my + aunt, whose whole life has been one long scandal that accuses me in this + revolting manner!—as if she did not know me proud and honest enough + never to make a choice of which I should be ashamed! Oh! if I ever love, I + shall proclaim it, I shall be proud of it: for love, as I understand it, + is the most glorious feeling in the world. But, alas!” continued + Adrienne, with redoubled bitterness, “of what use are truth and + honor, if they do not secure you from suspicions, which are as absurd as + they are odious?” So saying, she again pressed her handkerchief to + her eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Come, my dear Mdlle. Adrienne,” said M. Baleinier, in a voice + full of the softest unction, “becalm—it is all over now. You + have in me a devoted friend.” As he pronounced these last words, he + blushed in spite of his diabolical craft. + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:65%;"> + <img src="images/10413m.jpg" alt="10413m " width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/10413.jpg"><i>Original</i></a> + </h5> + <p> + “I know you are my friend,” said Adrienne: “I shall + never forget that, by taking my part to-day, you exposed yourself to the + resentment of my aunt—for I am not ignorant of her power, which is + very great, alas! for evil.” + </p> + <p> + “As for that,” said the doctor, affecting a profound + indifference, “we medical men are pretty safe from personal + enmities.” + </p> + <p> + “Nay, my dear M. Baleinier! Mme. de Saint-Dizier and her friends + never forgive,” said the young girl, with a shudder. “It + needed all my invincible aversion, my innate horror for all that is base, + cowardly, and perfidious, to induce me to break so openly with her. But if + death itself were the penalty, I could not hesitate and yet,” she + added, with one of those graceful smiles which gave such a charm to her + beautiful countenance, “yet I am fond of life: if I have to reproach + myself with anything, it is that I would have it too bright, too fair, too + harmonious; but then, you know, I am resigned to my faults.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, come, I am more tranquil,” said the doctor, gayly; + “for you smile—that is a good sign.” + </p> + <p> + “It is often the wisest course; and yet, ought I smile, after the + threats that my aunt has held out to me? Still, what can she do? what is + the meaning of this kind of family council? Did she seriously think that + the advice of a M. D’Aigrigny or a M. Tripeaud could have influenced + me? And then she talked of rigorous measures. What measures can she take; + do you know?” + </p> + <p> + “I think, between ourselves, that the princess only wished to + frighten you, and hopes to succeed by persuasion. She has the misfortune + to fancy herself a mother of the Church, and dreams of your conversion,” + said the doctor, maliciously, for he now wished to tranquillize Adrienne + at any cost; “but let us think no more about it. Your fire eyes must + shine with all their lustre, to fascinate the minister that we are going + to see.” + </p> + <p> + “You are right, dear doctor; we ought always avoid grief, for it has + the disadvantage of making us forget the sorrows of others. But here am I, + availing myself of your kindness, without even telling you what I require.” + </p> + <p> + “Luckily, we shall have plenty of time to talk over it, for our + statesman lives at some distance.” + </p> + <p> + “In two words, here’s the mystery,” answered Adrienne. + “I told you what reasons I had to interest myself in that honest + workman. This morning he came to me in great grief, to inform me that he + was compromised by some songs he had written (for he is a poet), and that, + though innocent, he was threatened with an arrest; and if they put him + into prison, his family, whose sole support he is, would die of hunger. + Therefore he came to beg me to procure bail for him, so that he might be + left at liberty to work: I promised immediately, thinking of your interest + with the minister; for, as they were already in pursuit of the poor lad, I + chose to conceal him in my residence, and you know how my aunt has twisted + that action. Now tell me, do you think, that, by means of your + recommendation, the minister will grant me the freedom of this workman, + bail being given for the same?” + </p> + <p> + “No doubt of it. There will not be the shadow of a difficulty—especially + when you have explained the facts to him, with that eloquence of the heart + which you possess in perfection.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you know, my dear Dr. Baleinier, why I have taken the resolution + (which is perhaps a strange one) to ask you to accompany me to the + minister’s?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, doubtless, to recommend your friend in a more effective + manner.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes—but also to put an end, by a decisive step, to the + calumnies which my aunt will be sure to spread with regard to me, and + which she has already, you know, had inserted in the report of the + commissary of police. I have preferred to address myself at once, frankly + and openly, to a man placed in a high social position. I will explain all + to him, who will believe me, because truth has an accent of its own.” + </p> + <p> + “All this, my dear Mdlle. Adrienne, is wisely planned. You will, as + the saw says, kill two birds with one stone—or rather, you will + obtain by one act of kindness two acts of justice; you will destroy a + dangerous calumny, and restore a worthy youth to liberty.” + </p> + <p> + “Come,” said Adrienne, laughing, “thanks to this + pleasing prospect, my light heart has returned.” + </p> + <p> + “How true that in life,” said the doctor, philosophically, + “everything depends on the point of view.” + </p> + <p> + Adrienne was so completely ignorant of the forms of a constitutional + government, and had so blind a confidence in the doctor, that she did not + doubt for an instant what he told her. She therefore resumed with joy: + “What happiness it will be! when I go to fetch the daughters of + Marshal Simon, to be able to console this workman’s mother, who is + now perhaps in a state of cruel anxiety, at not seeing her son return + home!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, you will have this pleasure,” said M. Baleinier, with a + smile; “for we will solicit and intrigue to such purpose, that the + good, mother may learn from you the release of her son before she even + knows that he has been arrested.” + </p> + <p> + “How kind, how obliging you are!” said Adrienne. “Really, + if the motive were not so serious, I should be ashamed of making you lose + so much precious time, my dear M. Baleinier. But I know your heart.” + </p> + <p> + “I have no other wish, than to prove to you my profound devotion, my + sincere attachment,” said the doctor inhaling a pinch of snuff. But + at the same time, he cast an uneasy glance through the window, for the + carriage was just crossing the Place de l’Odeon, and in spite of the + snow, he could see the front of the Odeon theatre brilliantly illuminated. + Now Adrienne, who had just turned her head towards that side, might + perhaps be astonished at the singular road they were taking. + </p> + <p> + In order to draw off her attention by a skillful diversion, the doctor + exclaimed suddenly: “Bless me! I had almost forgotten.” + </p> + <p> + “What is the matter, M. Baleinier?” said Adrienne, turning + hastily towards him. + </p> + <p> + “I had forgotten a thing of the highest importance, in regard to the + success of our petition.” + </p> + <p> + “What is it, please?” asked the young girl, anxiously. + </p> + <p> + M. Baleinier gave a cunning smile. “Every man,” said he, + “has his weakness—ministers even more than others. The one we + are going to visit has the folly to attach the utmost importance to his + title, and the first impression would be unfavorable, if you did not lay + great stress on the Minister.” + </p> + <p> + “Is that all, my dear M. Baleinier?” said Adrienne, smiling in + her turn. “I will even go so far as Your Excellency, which is, I + believe, one of his adopted titles.” + </p> + <p> + “Not now—but that is no matter; if you could even slide in a + My Lord or two, our business would be done at once.” + </p> + <p> + “Be satisfied! since there are upstart ministers as well as + City-turned gentlemen, I will remember Moliere’s M. Jourdain, and + feed full the gluttonous vanity of your friend.” + </p> + <p> + “I give him up to you, for I know he will be in good hands,” + replied the physician, who rejoiced to see that the carriage had now + entered those dark streets which lead from the Place de l’Odeon to + the Pantheon district; “I do not wish to find fault with the + minister for being proud, since his pride may be of service to us on this + occasion.” + </p> + <p> + “These petty devices are innocent enough,” said Mdlle. de + Cardoville, “and I confess that I do not scruple to have recourse to + them.” Then, leaning towards the door-sash, she added: “Gracious! + how sad and dark are these streets. What wind! what snow! In which quarter + are we?” + </p> + <p> + “What! are you so ungrateful, that you do not recognize by the + absence of shops, your dear quarter of the Faubourg Saint Germain?” + </p> + <p> + “I imagine we had quitted it long ago.” + </p> + <p> + “I thought so too,” said the physician, leaning forward as if + to ascertain where they were, “but we are still there. My poor + coachman, blinded by the snow, which is beating against his face, must + have gone wrong just now—but we are all right again. Yes, I perceive + we are in the Rue Saint Guillaume—not the gayest of streets by the + way—but, in ten minutes, we shall arrive at the minister’s + private entrance, for intimate friends like myself enjoy the privilege of + escaping the honors of a grand reception.” + </p> + <p> + Mdlle. de Cardoville, like most carriage-people, was so little acquainted + with certain streets of Paris, as well as with the customs of men in + office, that she did not doubt for a moment the statements of Baleinier, + in whom she reposed the utmost confidence. + </p> + <p> + When they left the Saint-Dizier House, the doctor had upon his lips a + question which he hesitated to put, for fear of endangering himself in the + eyes of Adrienne. The latter had spoken of important interests, the + existence of which had been concealed from her. The doctor, who was an + acute and skillful observer, had quite clearly remarked the embarrassment + and anxiety of the princess and D’Aigrigny. He no longer doubted, + that the plot directed against Adrienne—one in which he was the + blind agent, in submission to the will of the Order—related to + interests which had been concealed from him, and which, for that very + reason, he burned to discover; for every member of the dark conspiracy to + which he belonged had necessarily acquired the odious vices inherent to + spies and informers—envy, suspicion, and jealous curiosity. + </p> + <p> + It is easy to understand, therefore, that Dr. Baleinier, though quite + determined to serve the projects of D’Aigrigny, was yet very anxious + to learn what had been kept from him. Conquering his irresolution, and + finding the opportunity favorable, and no time to be lost, he said to + Adrienne, after a moment’s silence: “I am going perhaps to ask + you a very indiscreet question. If you think it such, pray do not answer.” + </p> + <p> + “Nay—go on, I entreat you.” + </p> + <p> + “Just now—a few minutes before the arrival of the commissary + of police was announced to your aunt—you spoke, I think, of some + great interests, which had hitherto been concealed from you.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I did so.” + </p> + <p> + “These words,” continued M. Baleinier, speaking slowly and + emphatically, “appeared to make a deep impression on the princess.” + </p> + <p> + “An impression so deep,” said Adrienne, “that sundry + suspicions of mine were changed to certainty.” + </p> + <p> + “I need not tell you, my charming friend,” resumed M. + Baleinier, in a bland tone, “that if I remind you of this + circumstance, it is only to offer you my services, in case they should be + required. If not—and there is the shadow of impropriety in letting + me know more—forget that I have said a word.” + </p> + <p> + Adrienne became serious and pensive, and, after a silence of some moments, + she thus answered Dr. Baleinier: “On this subject, there are some + things that I do not know—others that I may tell you—others + again that I must keep from you: but you are so kind to-day, that I am + happy to be able to give you a new mark of confidence.” + </p> + <p> + “Then I wish to know nothing,” said the doctor, with an air of + humble deprecation, “for I should have the appearance of accepting a + kind of reward; whilst I am paid a thousand times over, by the pleasure I + feel in serving you.” + </p> + <p> + “Listen,” said Adrienne, without attending to the delicate + scruples of Dr. Baleinier; “I have powerful reasons for believing + that an immense inheritance must, at no very distant period, be divided + between the members of my family, all of whom I do not know—for, + after the Revocation of the Edict of Nantes, those from whom we are + descended were dispersed in foreign countries, and experienced a great + variety of fortunes.” + </p> + <p> + “Really!” cried the doctor, becoming extremely interested. + “Where is this inheritance, in whose hands?” + </p> + <p> + “I do not know.” + </p> + <p> + “Now how will you assert your rights?” + </p> + <p> + “That I shall learn soon.” + </p> + <p> + “Who will inform you of it?” + </p> + <p> + “That I may not tell you.” + </p> + <p> + “But how did you find out the existence of this inheritance?” + </p> + <p> + “That also I may not tell you,” returned Adrienne, in a soft + and melancholy tone, which remarkably contrasted with the habitual + vivacity of her conversation. “It is a secret—a strange secret—and + in those moments of excitement, in which you have sometimes surprised me, + I have been thinking of extraordinary circumstances connected with this + secret, which awakened within me lofty and magnificent ideas.” + </p> + <p> + Adrienne paused and was silent, absorbed in her own reflections. Baleinier + did not seek to disturb her. In the first place, Mdlle. de Cardoville did + not perceive the direction the coach was taking; secondly, the doctor was + not sorry to ponder over what he had just heard. With his usual + perspicuity, he saw that the Abbe d’Aigrigny was concerned in this + inheritance, and he resolved instantly to make a secret report on the + subject; either M. d’Aigrigny was acting under the instructions of + the Order, or by his own impulse; in the one event, the report of the + doctor would confirm a fact; in the other, it would reveal one. + </p> + <p> + For some time, therefore, the lady and Dr. Baleinier remained perfectly + silent, no longer even disturbed by the noise of the wheels, for the + carriage now rolled over a thick carpet of snow, and the streets had + become more and more deserted. Notwithstanding his crafty treachery, + notwithstanding his audacity and the blindness of his dupe, the doctor was + not quite tranquil as to the result of his machinations. The critical + moment approached, and the least suspicion roused in the mind of Adrienne + by any inadvertence on his part, might ruin all his projects. + </p> + <p> + Adrienne, already fatigued by the painful emotions of the day, shuddered + from time to time, as the cold became more and more piercing; in her haste + to accompany Dr. Baleinier, she had neglected to take either shawl or + mantle. + </p> + <p> + For some minutes the coach had followed the line of a very high wall, + which, seen through the snow, looked white against a black sky. The + silence was deep and mournful. Suddenly the carriage stopped, and the + footman went to knock at a large gateway; he first gave two rapid knocks, + and then one other at a long interval. Adrienne did not notice the + circumstance, for the noise was not loud, and the doctor had immediately + begun to speak, to drown with his voice this species of signal. + </p> + <p> + “Here we are at last,” said he gayly to Adrienne; “you + must be very winning—that is, you must be yourself.” + </p> + <p> + “Be sure I will do my best,” replied Adrienne, with a smile; + then she added, shivering in spite of herself: “How dreadfully cold + it is! I must confess, my dear Dr. Baleinier, that when I have been to + fetch my poor little relations from the house of our workman’s + mother, I shall be truly glad to find myself once more in the warmth and + light of my own cheerful rooms, for you know my aversion to cold and + darkness.” + </p> + <p> + “It is quite natural,” said the doctor, gallantly; “the + most charming flowers require the most light and heat.” + </p> + <p> + Whilst the doctor and Mdlle. de Cardoville exchanged these few words, a + heavy gate had turned creaking upon its hinges, and the carriage had + entered a court-yard. The physician got down first, to offer his arm to + Adrienne. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0044" id="link2HCH0044"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XLIV. THE MINISTER’S CABINET. + </h2> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>he carriage had + stopped before some steps covered with snow, which led to a vestibule + lighted by a lamp. The better to ascend the steps, which were somewhat + slippery, Adrienne leaned upon the doctor’s arm. + </p> + <p> + “Dear me! how you tremble,” said he. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” replied she, shuddering, “I feel deadly cold. In + my haste, I came out without a shawl. But how gloomy this house appears,” + she added, pointing to the entrance. + </p> + <p> + “It is what you call the minister’s private house, the sanctum + sanctorum, whither our statesman retires far from the sound of the + profane,” said Dr. Baleinier, with a smile. “Pray come in!” + and he pushed open the door of a large hall, completely empty. + </p> + <p> + “They are right in saying,” resumed Dr. Baleinier, who covered + his secret agitation with an appearance of gayety, “that a minister’s + house is like nobody else’s. Not a footman—not a page, I + should say—to be found in the antechamber. Luckily,” added he, + opening the door of a room which communicated with the vestibule, + </p> + <p> + “‘In this seraglio reared, I know the secret ways.’” + </p> + <p> + Mdlle. de Cardoville was now introduced into an apartment hung with green + embossed paper, and very simply furnished with mahogany chairs, covered + with yellow velvet; the floor was carefully polished, and a globe lamp, + which gave at most a third of its proper light, was suspended (at a much + greater height than usual) from the ceiling. Finding the appearance of + this habitation singularly plain for the dwelling of a minister, Adrienne, + though she had no suspicion, could not suppress a movement of surprise and + paused a moment on the threshold of the door. M. Baleinier, by whose arm + she held, guessed the cause of her astonishment, and said to her with a + smile: + </p> + <p> + “This place appears to you very paltry for ‘his excellency,’ + does it not? If you knew what a thing constitutional economy is!—Moreover, + you will see a ‘my lord,’ who has almost as little pretension + as his furniture. But please to wait for me an instant. I will go and + inform the minister you are here, and return immediately.” + </p> + <p> + Gently disengaging himself from the grasp of Adrienne, who had + involuntarily pressed close to him, the physician opened a small side + door, by which he instantly disappeared. Adrienne de Cardoville was left + alone. + </p> + <p> + Though she could not have explained the cause of her impression, there was + something awe-inspiring to the young lady in this large, cold, naked, + curtainless room; and as, by degrees, she noticed certain peculiarities in + the furniture, which she had not at first perceived, she was seized with + an indefinable feeling of uneasiness. + </p> + <p> + Approaching the cheerless hearth, she perceived with surprise that an iron + grating completely enclosed the opening of the chimney, and that the tongs + and shovel were fastened with iron chains. Already astonished by this + singularity, she was about mechanically to draw towards her an armchair + placed against the wall, when she found that it remained motionless. She + then discovered that the back of this piece of furniture, as well as that + of all the other chairs, was fastened to the wainscoting by iron clamps. + Unable to repress a smile, she exclaimed: “Have they so little + confidence in the statesman in whose house I am, that they are obliged to + fasten the furniture to the walls?” + </p> + <p> + Adrienne had recourse to this somewhat forced pleasantry as a kind of + effort to resist the painful feeling of apprehension that was gradually + creeping over her; for the most profound and mournful silence reigned in + this habitation, where nothing indicated the life, the movement and the + activity, which usually surround a great centre of business. Only, from + time to time, the young lady heard the violent gusts of wind from without. + </p> + <p> + More than a quarter of an hour had elapsed, and M. Baleinier did not + return. In her impatient anxiety, Adrienne wished to call some one to + inquire about the doctor and the minister. She raised her eyes to look for + a bell-rope by the side of the chimney-glass; she found none, but she + perceived, that what she had hitherto taken for a glass, thanks to the + half obscurity of the room, was in reality a large sheet of shining tin. + Drawing nearer to it, she accidentally touched a bronzed candlestick; and + this, as well as a clock, was fixed to the marble of the chimney-piece. + </p> + <p> + In certain dispositions of mind, the most insignificant circumstances + often assume terrific proportions. This immovable candlestick, this + furniture fastened to the wainscot, this glass replaced by a tin sheet, + this profound silence, and the prolonged absence of M. Baleinier, had such + an effect upon Adrienne, that she was struck with a vague terror. Yet such + was her implicit confidence in the doctor, that she reproached herself + with her own fears, persuading herself that the causes of them were after + all of no real importance, and that it was unreasonable to feel uneasy at + such trifles. + </p> + <p> + Still, though she thus strove to regain courage, her anxiety induced her + to do what otherwise she would never have attempted. She approached the + little door by which the doctor had disappeared, and applied her ear to + it. She held her breath, and listened, but heard nothing. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly, a dull, heavy sound, like that of a falling body, was audible + just above her head; she thought she could even distinguish a stifled + moaning. Raising her eyes, hastily, she saw some particles of the plaster + fall from the ceiling, loosened, no doubt, by the shaking of the floor + above. + </p> + <p> + No longer able to resist the feeling of terror, Adrienne ran to the door + by which she had entered with the doctor, in order to call some one. To + her great surprise, she found it was fastened on the outside. Yet, since + her arrival, she had heard no sound of a key turning in the lock. + </p> + <p> + More and more alarmed, the young girl flew to the little door by which the + physician had disappeared, and at which she had just been listening. This + door also was fastened on the outside. + </p> + <p> + Still, wishing to struggle with the terror which was gaining invincibly + upon her, Adrienne called to her aid all the firmness of her character, + and tried to argue away her fears. + </p> + <p> + “I must have been deceived.” she said; “it was only a + fall that I heard. The moaning had no existence, except in my imagination. + There are a thousand reasons for believing that it was not a person who + fell down. But, then, these locked doors? They, perhaps, do not know that + I am here; they may have thought that there was nobody in this room.” + </p> + <p> + As she uttered these words, Adrienne looked round with anxiety; then she + added, in a firm voice: “No weakness! it is useless to try to blind + myself to my real situation. On the contrary, I must look it well in the + face. It is evident that I am not here at a minister’s house; no end + of reasons prove it beyond a doubt; M. Baleinier has therefore deceived + me. But for what end? Why has he brought me hither? Where am I?” + </p> + <p> + The last two questions appeared to Adrienne both equally insoluble. It + only remained clear, that she was the victim of M. Baleinier’s + perfidy. But this certainly seemed so horrible to the young girl’s + truthful and generous soul, that she still tried to combat the idea by the + recollection of the confiding friendship which she had always shown this + man. She said to herself with bitterness: “See how weakness and fear + may lead one to unjust and odious suspicions! Yes; for until the last + extremity, it is not justifiable to believe in so infernal a deception—and + then only upon the clearest evidence. I will call some one: it is the only + way of completely satisfying these doubts.” Then, remembering that + there was no bell, she added: “No matter; I will knock, and some one + will doubtless answer.” With her little, delicate hand, Adrienne + struck the door several times. + </p> + <p> + The dull, heavy sound which came from the door showed that it was very + thick. No answer was returned to the young girl. She ran to the other + door. There was the same appeal on her part, the same profound silence + without—only interrupted from time to time by the howling of the + wind. + </p> + <p> + “I am not more timid than other people,” said Adrienne, + shuddering; “I do not know if it is the excessive cold, but I + tremble in spite of myself. I endeavor to guard against all weakness; yet + I think that any one in my position would find all this very strange and + frightful.” + </p> + <p> + At this instant, loud cries, or rather savage and dreadful howls, burst + furiously from the room just above, and soon after a sort of stamping of + feet, like the noise of a violent struggle, shook the ceiling of the + apartment. Struck with consternation, Adrienne uttered a loud cry of + terror became deadly pale, stood for a moment motionless with affright, + and then rushed to one of the windows, and abruptly threw it open. + </p> + <p> + A violent gust of wind, mixed with melted snow, beat against Adrienne’s + face, swept roughly into the room, and soon extinguished the flickering + and smoky light of the lamp. Thus, plunged in profound darkness, with her + hands clinging to the bars that were placed across the window, Mdlle. de + Cardoville yielded at length to the full influence of her fears, so long + restrained, and was about to call aloud for help, when an unexpected + apparition rendered her for some minutes absolutely mute with terror. + </p> + <p> + Another wing of the building, opposite to that in which she was, stood at + no great distance. Through the midst of the black darkness, which filled + the space between, one large, lighted window was distinctly visible. + Through the curtainless panes, Adrienne perceived a white figure, gaunt + and ghastly, dragging after it a sort of shroud, and passing and repassing + continually before the window, with an abrupt and restless motion. Her + eyes fixed upon this window, shining through the darkness, Adrienne + remained as if fascinated by that fatal vision: and, as the spectacle + filled up the measure of her fears, she called for help with all her + might, without quitting the bars of the window to which she clung. After a + few seconds, whilst she was thus crying out, two tall women entered the + room in silence, unperceived by Mdlle. de Cardoville, who was still + clinging to the window. + </p> + <p> + These women, of about forty to fifty years of age, robust and masculine, + were negligently and shabbily dressed, like chambermaids of the lower + sort; over their clothes they wore large aprons of blue cotton, cut + sloping from their necks, and reaching down to their feet. One of them, + who held a lamp in her hand, had a broad, red, shining face, a large + pimpled nose, small green eyes, and tow hair, which straggled rough and + shaggy from beneath her dirty white cap. The other, sallow, withered, and + bony, wore a mourning-cap over a parchment visage, pitted with the + small-pox, and rendered still more repulsive by the thick black eyebrows, + and some long gray hairs that overshadowed the upper lip. This woman + carried, half unfolded in her hand, a garment of strange form, made of + thick gray stuff. + </p> + <p> + They both entered silently by the little door, at the moment when + Adrienne, in the excess of her terror, was grasping the bars of the + window, and crying out: “Help! help!” + </p> + <p> + Pointing out the young lady to each other, one of them went to place the + lamp on the chimney-piece, whilst the other (she who wore the mourning + cap) approached the window, and laid her great bony hand upon Mdlle. de + Cardoville’s shoulder. + </p> + <p> + Turning round, Adrienne uttered a new cry of terror at the sight of this + grim figure. Then, the first moment of stupor over, she began to feel less + afraid; hideous as was this woman, it was at least some one to speak to; + she exclaimed, therefore, in an agitated voice: “Where is M. + Baleinier?” + </p> + <p> + The two women looked at each other, exchanged a leer of mutual + intelligence, but did not answer. + </p> + <p> + “I ask you, madame,” resumed Adrienne, “where is M. + Baleinier, who brought me hither? I wish to see him instantly.” + </p> + <p> + “He is gone,” said the big woman. + </p> + <p> + “Gone!” cried Adrienne; “gone without me!—Gracious + heaven! what can be the meaning of all this?” Then, after a moment’s + reflection, she resumed, “Please to fetch me a coach.” + </p> + <p> + The two women looked at each other, and shrugged their shoulders. “I + entreat you, madame,” continued Adrienne, with forced calmness in + her voice, “to fetch me a coach since M. Baleinier is gone without + me. I wish to leave this place.” + </p> + <p> + “Come, come, madame,” said the tall woman, who was called + “Tomboy,” without appearing to listen to what Adrienne asked, + “it is time for you to go to bed.” + </p> + <p> + “To go to bed!” cried Mdlle. Cardoville, in alarm. “This + is really enough to drive one mad.” Then, addressing the two women, + she added: “What is this house? where am I? answer!” + </p> + <p> + “You are in a house,” said Tomboy, in a rough voice, “where + you must not make a row from the window, as you did just now.” + </p> + <p> + “And where you must not put out the lamp as you have done,” + added the other woman, who was called Gervaise, “or else we shall + have a crow to pick with you.” + </p> + <p> + Adrienne, unable to utter a word, and trembling with fear, looked in a + kind of stupor from one to the other of these horrible women; her reason + strove in vain to comprehend what was passing around her. Suddenly she + thought she had guessed it, and exclaimed: “I see there is a mistake + here. I do not understand how, but there is a mistake. You take me for + some one else. Do you know who I am? My name is Adrienne de Cardoville You + see, therefore, that I am at liberty to leave this house; no one in the + world has the right to detain me. I command you, then, to fetch me a coach + immediately. If there are none in this quarter, let me have some one to + accompany me home to the Rue de Babylone, Saint-Dizier House. I will + reward such a person liberally, and you also.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, have you finished?” said Tomboy. “What is the use + of telling us all this rubbish?” + </p> + <p> + “Take care,” resumed Adrienne, who wished to try every means; + “if you detain me here by force, it will be very serious. You do not + know to what you expose yourselves.” + </p> + <p> + “Will you come to bed; yes or no?” said Gervaise, in a tone of + harsh impatience. + </p> + <p> + “Listen to me, madame,” resumed Adrienne, precipitately, + “let me out this place, and I will give each of you two thousand + francs. It is not enough? I will give you ten—twenty—whatever + you ask. I am rich—only let me out for heaven’s sake, let me + out!—I cannot remain here—I am afraid.” As she said + this, the tone of the poor girl’s voice was heartrending. + </p> + <p> + “Twenty thousand francs!—that’s the usual figure, ain’t + it, Tomboy?” + </p> + <p> + “Let be, Gervaise! they all sing the same song.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, then? since reasons, prayers, and menaces are all in vain,” + said Adrienne gathering energy from her desperate position, “I + declare to you that I will go out and that instantly. We will see if you + are bold enough to employ force against me.” + </p> + <p> + So saying, Adrienne advanced resolutely towards the door. But, at this + moment, the wild hoarse cries, which had preceded the noise of the + struggle that had so frightened her, again resounded; only, this time they + were not accompanied by the movement of feet. + </p> + <p> + “Oh! what screams!” said Adrienne, stopping short, and in her + terror drawing nigh to the two women. “Do you not hear those cries? + What, then, is this house, in which one hears such things? And over there, + too,” added she almost beside herself, as she pointed to the other + wing where the lighted windows shone through the darkness, and the white + figure continued to pass and repass before it; “over there! do you + see? What is it?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! that ‘un,” said Tomboy; “one of the folks + who, like you, have not behaved well.” + </p> + <p> + “What do you say?” cried Mdlle. de Cardoville, clasping her + hands in terror. “Heavens! what is this house? What do they do to + them?” + </p> + <p> + “What will be done to you, if you are naughty, and refuse to come to + bed,” answered Gervaise. + </p> + <p> + “They put this on them,” said Tomboy, showing the garment that + she had held under her arm, “they clap ‘em into the + strait-waistcoast.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” cried Adrienne, hiding her face in her hands with + horror. A terrible discovery had flashed suddenly upon her. She understood + it all. + </p> + <p> + Capping the violent emotions of the day, the effect of this last blow was + dreadful. The young girl felt her strength give way. Her hands fell + powerless, her face became fearfully pale, all her limbs trembled, and + sinking upon her knees, and casting a terrified glance at the strait + waistcoat she was just able to falter in a feeble voice, “Oh, no:—not + that—for pity’s sake, madame. I will do—whatever you + wish.” And, her strength quite failing, she would have fallen upon + the ground if the two women had not run towards her, and received her + fainting into their arms. + </p> + <p> + “A fainting fit,” said Tomboy; “that’s not + dangerous. Let us carry her to bed. We can undress her, and this will be + all nothing.” + </p> + <p> + “Carry her, then,” said Gervaise. “I will take the lamp.” + </p> + <p> + The tall and robust Tomboy took up Mdlle. de Cardoville as if she had been + a sleeping child, carried her in her arms, and followed her companion into + the chamber through which M. Baleinier had made his exit. + </p> + <p> + This chamber, though perfectly clean, was cold and bare. A greenish paper + covered the walls, and a low, little iron bedstead, the head of which + formed a kind of shelf, stood in one corner; a stove, fixed in the + chimney-place, was surrounded by an iron grating, which forbade a near + approach; a table fastened to the wall, a chair placed before this table, + and also clamped to the floor, a mahogany chest of drawers, and a rush + bottomed armchair completed the scanty furniture. The curtainless window + was furnished on the inside with an iron grating, which served to protect + the panes from being broken. + </p> + <p> + It was into this gloomy retreat, which formed so painful a contrast with + the charming little summer-house in the Rue de Babylone, that Adrienne was + carried by Tomboy, who, with the assistance of Gervaise, placed the + inanimate form on the bed. The lamp was deposited on the shelf at the head + of the couch. Whilst one of the nurses held her up, the other unfastened + and took off the cloth dress of the young girl, whose head drooped + languidly on her bosom. Though in a swoon, large tears trickled slowly + from her closed eyes, whose long black lashes threw their shadows on the + transparent whiteness of her cheeks. Over her neck and breast of ivory + flowed the golden waves of her magnificent hair, which had come down at + the time of her fall. When, as they unlaced her satin corset, less soft, + less fresh, less white than the virgin form beneath, which lay like a + statue of alabaster in its covering of lace and lawn, one of the horrible + hags felt the arms and shoulders of the young girl with her large, red, + horny, and chapped hands. Though she did not completely recover the use of + her senses, she started involuntarily from the rude and brutal touch. + </p> + <p> + “Hasn’t she little feet?” said the nurse, who, kneeling + down, was employed in drawing off Adrienne’s stockings. “I + could hold them both in the hollow of my hand.” In fact, a small, + rosy foot, smooth as a child’s, here and there veined with azure, + was soon exposed to view, as was also a leg with pink knee and ankle, of + as pure and exquisite a form as that of Diana Huntress. + </p> + <p> + “And what hair!” said Tomboy; “so long and soft!—She + might almost walk upon it. ‘Twould be a pity to cut it off, to put + ice upon her skull!” As she spoke, she gathered up Adrienne’s + magnificent hair, and twisted it as well as she could behind her head. + Alas! it was no longer the fair, light hand of Georgette, Florine, or Hebe + that arranged the beauteous locks of their mistress with so much love and + pride! + </p> + <p> + And as she again felt the rude touch of the nurse’s hand, the young + girl was once more seized with the same nervous trembling, only more + frequently and strongly than before. And soon, whether by a sort of + instinctive repulsion, magnetically excited during her swoon, or from the + effect of the cold night air, Adrienne again started and slowly came to + herself. + </p> + <p> + It is impossible to describe her alarm, horror, and chaste indignation, + as, thrusting aside with both her hands the numerous curls that covered + her face, bathed in tears, she saw herself half-naked between these filthy + hags. At first, she uttered a cry of shame and terror; then to escape from + the looks of the women, by a movement, rapid as thought, she drew down the + lamp placed on the shelf at the head of her bed, so that it was + extinguished and broken to pieces on the floor. After which, in the midst + of the darkness, the unfortunate girl, covering herself with the + bed-clothes, burst into passionate sobs. + </p> + <p> + The nurses attributed Adrienne’s cry and violent actions to a fit of + furious madness. “Oh! you begin again to break the lamps—that’s + your partickler fancy, is it?” cried Tomboy, angrily, as she felt + her way in the dark. “Well! I gave you fair warning. You shall have + the strait waistcoat on this very night, like the mad gal upstairs.” + </p> + <p> + “That’s it,” said the other; “hold her fast, + Tommy, while I go and fetch a light. Between us, we’ll soon master + her.” + </p> + <p> + “Make haste, for, in spite of her soft look, she must be a regular + fury. We shall have to sit up all night with her, I suppose.” + </p> + <p> + Sad and painful contrast! That morning, Adrienne had risen free, smiling, + happy, in the midst of all the wonders of luxury and art, and surrounded + by the delicate attentions of the three charming girls whom she had chosen + to serve her. In her generous and fantastic mood, she had prepared a + magnificent and fairy-like surprise for the young Indian prince, her + relation; she had also taken a noble resolution with regard to the two + orphans brought home by Dagobert; in her interview with Mme. de + Saint-Dizier, she had shown herself by turns proud and sensitive, + melancholy and gay, ironical and serious, loyal and courageous; finally, + she had come to this accursed house to plead in favor of an honest and + laborious artisan. + </p> + <p> + And now, in the evening delivered over by an atrocious piece of treachery + to the ignoble hands of two coarse-minded muses in a madhouse—Mdlle. + de Cardoville felt her delicate limbs imprisoned in that abominable + garment, which is called a strait-waistcoat. + </p> + <p> + Mdlle. de Cardoville passed a horrible night in company with the two hags. + The next morning, at nine o’clock, what was the young lady’s + stupor to see Dr. Baleinier enter the room, still smiling with an air at + once benevolent and paternal. + </p> + <p> + “Well, my dear child?” said he, in a bland, affectionate + voice; “how have we spent the night?” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0045" id="link2HCH0045"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XLV. THE VISIT. + </h2> + <div class="fig" style="width:65%;"> + <img src="images/10421m.jpg" alt="10421m " width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/10421.jpg"><i>Original</i></a> + </h5> + <p> + The keepers, yielding to Mdlle. de Cardoville’s prayers, and, above + all, to her promises of good behavior, had only left on the canvas jacket + a portion of the time. Towards morning, they had allowed her to rise and + dress herself, without interfering. + </p> + <p> + Adrienne was seated on the edge of her bed. The alteration in her + features, her dreadful paleness, the lurid fire of fever shining in her + eyes, the convulsive trembling which ever and anon shook her frame, showed + already the fatal effects of this terrible night upon a susceptible and + high-strung organization. At sight of Dr. Baleinier, who, with a sign, + made Gervaise and her mate leave the room, Adrienne remained petrified. + </p> + <p> + She felt a kind of giddiness at the thought of the audacity of the man, + who dared to present himself to her! But when the physician repeated, in + the softest tone of affectionate interest: “Well, my poor child! how + have we spent the night?” she pressed her hands to her burning + forehead, as if in doubt whether she was awake or sleeping. Then, staring + at the doctor, she half opened her lips; but they trembled so much that it + was impossible for her to utter a word. Anger, indignation, contempt, and, + above all, the bitter and acutely painful feeling of a generous heart, + whose confidence has been basely betrayed, so overpowered Adrienne that + she was unable to break the silence. + </p> + <p> + “Come, come! I see how it is,” said the doctor, shaking his + head sorrowfully; “you are very much displeased with me—is it + not so? Well! I expected it, my dear child.” + </p> + <p> + These words, pronounced with the most hypocritical effrontery, made + Adrienne start up. Her pale cheek flushed, her large eyes sparkled, she + lifted proudly her beautiful head, whilst her upper lip curled slightly + with a smile of disdainful bitterness; then, passing in angry silence + before M. Baleinier, who retained his seat, she directed her swift and + firm steps towards the door. This door, in which was a little wicket, was + fastened on the outside. Adrienne turned towards the doctor, and said to + him, with an imperious gesture; “Open that door for me!” + </p> + <p> + “Come, my dear Mdlle. Adrienne,” said the physician, “be + calm. Let us talk like good friends—for you know I am your friend.” + And he inhaled slowly a pinch of snuff. + </p> + <p> + “It appears, sir,” said Adrienne, in a voice trembling with + indignation, “I am not to leave this place to-day?” + </p> + <p> + “Alas! no. In such a state of excitement—if you knew how + inflamed your face is, and your eyes so feverish, your pulse must be at + least eighty to the minute—I conjure you, my dear child, not to + aggravate your symptoms by this fatal agitation.” + </p> + <p> + After looking fixedly at the doctor, Adrienne returned with a slow step, + and again took her seat on the edge of the bed. “That is right,” + resumed M. Baleinier: “only be reasonable; and, as I said before, + let us talk together like good friends.” + </p> + <p> + “You say well, sir,” replied Adrienne, in a collected and + perfectly calm voice; “let us talk like friends. You wish to make me + pass for mad—is it not so?” + </p> + <p> + “I wish, my dear child, that one day you may feel towards me as much + gratitude as you now do aversion. The latter I had fully foreseen—but, + however painful may be the performance of certain duties, we must resign + ourselves to it.” + </p> + <p> + M. Baleinier sighed, as he said this, with such a natural air of + conviction, that for a moment Adrienne could not repress a movement of + surprise; then, while her lip curled with a bitter laugh, she answered: + “Oh, it’s very clear, you have done all this for my good?” + </p> + <p> + “Really, my dear young lady—have I ever had any other design + than to be useful to you?” + </p> + <p> + “I do not know, sir, if your impudence be not still more odious than + your cowardly treachery!” + </p> + <p> + “Treachery!” said M. Baleinier, shrugging his shoulders with a + grieved air; “treachery, indeed! Only reflect, my poor child—do + you think, if I were not acting with good faith, conscientiously, in your + interest, I should return this morning to meet your indignation, for which + I was fully prepared? I am the head physician of this asylum, which + belongs to me—but I have two of my pupils here, doctors, like myself—and + might have left them to take care of you but, no—I could not consent + to it—I knew your character, your nature, your previous history, and + (leaving out of the question the interest I feel for you) I can treat your + case better than any one.” + </p> + <p> + Adrienne had heard M. Baleinier without interrupting him; she now looked + at him fixedly, and said: “Pray, sir, how much do they pay you to + make me pass for mad?” + </p> + <p> + “Madame!” cried M. Baleinier, who felt stung in spite of, + himself. + </p> + <p> + “You know I am rich,” continued Adrienne, with overwhelming + disdain; “I will double the sum that they give you. Come, sir—in + the name of friendship, as you call it, let me have the pleasure of + outbidding them.” + </p> + <p> + “Your keepers,” said M. Baleinier, recovering all his + coolness, “have informed me, in their report of the night’s + proceedings, that you made similar propositions to them.” + </p> + <p> + “Pardon me, sir; I offered them what might be acceptable to poor + women, without education, whom misfortune has forced to undertake a + painful employment—but to you, sir a man of the world, a man of + science, a man of great abilities—that is quite different—the + pay must be a great deal higher. There is treachery at all prices; so do + not found your refusal on the smallness of my offer to those wretched + women. Tell me—how much do you want?” + </p> + <p> + “Your keepers, in their report of the night, have also spoken of + threats,” resumed M. Baleinier, with the same coolness; “have + you any of those likewise to address me? Believe me, my poor child, you + will do well to exhaust at once your attempts at corruption, and your vain + threats of vengeance. We shall then come to the true state of the case.” + </p> + <p> + “So you deem my threats vain!” cried Mdlle. de Cardoville, at + length giving way to the full tide of her indignation, till then + restrained. “Do you think, sir, that when I leave this place—for + this outrage must have an end—that I will not proclaim aloud your + infamous treachery? Do you think chat I will not denounce to the contempt + and horror of all, your base conspiracy with Madame de Saint-Dizier? Oh! + do you think that I will conceal the frightful treatment I have received! + But, mad as I may be, I know that there are laws in this country, by which + I will demand a full reparation for myself, and shame, disgrace, and + punishment, for you, and for those who have employed you! Henceforth, + between you and me will be hate and war to the death; and all my strength, + all my intelligence—” + </p> + <p> + “Permit me to interrupt you, my dear Mdlle. Adrienne,” said + the doctor, still perfectly calm and affectionate: “nothing can be + more unfavorable to your cure, than to cherish idle hopes: they will only + tend to keep up a state of deplorable excitement: it is best to put the + facts fairly before you, that you may understand clearly your position. + </p> + <p> + “1. It is impossible for you to leave this house. 2. You can have no + communication with any one beyond its walls. 3. No one enters here that I + cannot perfectly depend upon. 4. I am completely indifferent to your + threats of vengeance because law and reason are both in my favor.” + </p> + <p> + “What! have you the right to shut me up here?” + </p> + <p> + “We should never have come to that determination, without a number + of reasons of the most serious kind.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! there are reasons for it, it seems.” + </p> + <p> + “Unfortunately, too many.” + </p> + <p> + “You will perhaps inform me of them?” + </p> + <p> + “Alas! they are only too conclusive; and if you should ever apply to + the protection of the laws, as you threatened me just now, we should be + obliged to state them. The fantastical eccentricity of your manner of + living, your whimsical mode of dressing up your maids, your extravagant + expenditure, the story of the Indian prince, to whom you offered a royal + hospitality, your unprecedented resolution of going to live by yourself, + like a young bachelor, the adventure of the man found concealed in your + bed-chamber; finally, the report of your yesterday’s conversation, + which was faithfully taken down in shorthand, by a person employed for + that purpose.” + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:65%;"> + <img src="images/10429m.jpg" alt="10429m " width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/10429.jpg"><i>Original</i></a> + </h5> + <p> + “Yesterday?” cried Adrienne, with as much indignation as + surprise. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes! to be prepared for every event, in case you should + misinterpret the interest we take in you, we had all your answers reported + by a man who was concealed behind a curtain in the next room; and really, + one day, in a calmer state of mind, when you come to read over quietly the + particulars of what took place, you will no longer be astonished at the + resolution we have been forced to adopt.” + </p> + <p> + “Go on, sir,” said Adrienne, with contempt. + </p> + <p> + “The facts I have cited being thus confirmed and acknowledged, you + will understand, my dear Mdlle. Adrienne, that your friends are perfectly + free from responsibility. It was their duty to endeavor to cure this + derangement of mind, which at present only shows itself in idle whims, but + which, were it to increase, might seriously compromise the happiness of + your future life. Now, in my opinion, we may hope to see a radical cure, + by means of a treatment at once physical and moral; but the first + condition of this attempt was to remove you from the scenes which so + dangerously excited your imagination; whilst a calm retreat, the repose of + a simple and solitary life combined with my anxious, I may say, paternal + care, will gradually bring about a complete recovery—” + </p> + <p> + “So, sir,” said Adrienne, with a bitter laugh, “the love + of a noble independence, generosity, the worship of the beautiful, + detestation of what is base and odious, such are the maladies of which you + wish to cure me; I fear that my case is desperate, for my aunt has long + ago tried to effect that benevolent purpose.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, we may perhaps not succeed; but at least we will attempt it. + You see, then, there is a mass of serious facts, quite enough to justify + the determination come to by the family-council, which puts me completely + at my ease with regard to your menaces. It is to that I wish to return; a + man of my age and condition never acts lightly—in such + circumstances, and you can readily understand what I was saying to you + just now. In a word, do not hope to leave this place before your complete + recovery, and rest assured, that I am and shall ever be safe from your + resentment. This being once admitted, let us talk of your actual state + with all the interest that you naturally inspire.” + </p> + <p> + “I think, sir, that, considering I am mad, you speak to me very + reasonably.” + </p> + <p> + “Mad! no, thank heaven, my poor child, you are not mad yet—and + I hope that, by my care, you will never be so. It is to prevent your + becoming mad, that one must take it in time; and believe me, it is full + time. You look at me with such an air of surprise—now tell me, what + interest can I have in talking to you thus? Is it the hatred of your aunt + that I wish to favor? To what end, I would ask? What can she do for me or + against me? I think of her at this moment neither more nor less than I + thought yesterday. Is it a new language that I hold to yourself? Did I not + speak to you yesterday many times, of the dangerous excitement of mind in + which you were, and of your singular whims and fancies? It is true, I made + use of stratagem to bring you hither. No doubt, I did so. I hastened to + avail myself of the opportunity, which you yourself offered, my poor, dear + child; for you would never have come hither with your own good will. One + day or the other, we must have found some pretext to get you here: and I + said to myself; ‘Her interest before all! Do your duty, let whatever + will betide!’—” + </p> + <p> + Whilst M. Baleinier was speaking, Adrienne’s countenance, which had + hitherto expressed alternately indignation and disdain, assumed an + indefinable look of anguish and horror. On hearing this man talk in such a + natural manner, and with such an appearance of sincerity, justice and + reason, she felt herself more alarmed than ever. An atrocious deception, + clothed in such forms, frightened her a hundred times more than the avowed + hatred of Madame de Saint-Dizier. This audacious hypocrisy seemed to her + so monstrous, that she believed it almost impossible. + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:65%;"> + <img src="images/10437m.jpg" alt="10437m " width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/10437.jpg"><i>Original</i></a> + </h5> + <p> + Adrienne had so little the art of hiding her emotions, that the doctor, a + skillful and profound physiognomist, instantly perceived the impression he + had produced. “Come,” said he to himself, “that is a + great step. Fright has succeeded to disdain and anger. Doubt will come + next. I shall not leave this place, till she has said to me: ‘Return + soon, my good M. Baleinier!’” With a voice of sorrowful + emotion, which seemed to come from the very depths of his heart, the + doctor thus continued: “I see, you are still suspicious of me. All I + can say to you is falsehood, fraud, hypocrisy, hate—is it not so?—Hate + you? why, in heaven’s name, should I hate you? What have you done to + me? or rather—you will perhaps attach more value to this reason from + a man of my sort,” added M. Baleinier, bitterly, “or rather, + what interest have I to hate you?—You, that have only been reduced + to the state in which you are by an over abundance of the most generous + instincts—you, that are suffering, as it were, from an excess of + good qualities—you can bring yourself coolly and deliberately to + accuse an honest man, who has never given you any but marks of affection, + of the basest, the blackest, the most abominable crime, of which a human + being could be guilty. Yes, I call it a crime; because the audacious + deception of which you accuse me would not deserve any other name. Really, + my poor child, it is hard—very hard—and I now see, that an + independent spirit may sometimes exhibit as much injustice and intolerance + as the most narrow mind. It does not incense me—no—it only + pains me: yes, I assure you—it pains me cruelly.” And the + doctor drew his hand across his moist eyes. + </p> + <p> + It is impossible to give the accent, the look, the gesture of M. + Baleinier, as he thus expressed himself. The most able and practiced + lawyer, or the greatest actor in the world, could not have played this + scene with more effect than the doctor—or rather, no one could have + played it so well—M. Baleinier, carried away by the influence of the + situations, was himself half convinced of what he said. + </p> + <p> + In few words, he felt all the horror of his own perfidy but he felt also + that Adrienne could not believe it; for there are combinations of such + nefarious character, that pure and upright minds are unable to comprehend + them as possible. If a lofty spirit looks down into the abyss of evil, + beyond a certain depth it is seized with giddiness, and no longer able to + distinguish one object from the other. + </p> + <p> + And then the most perverse of men have a day, an hour, a moment, in which + the good instincts, planted in the heart of every creature, appear in + spite of themselves. Adrienne was too interesting, was in too cruel a + position, for the doctor mot to feel some pity for her in his heart; the + tone of sympathy, which for some time past he had been obliged to assume + towards her, and the sweet confidence of the young girl in return, had + become for this man habitual and necessary ratifications. But sympathy and + habit were now to yield to implacable necessity. + </p> + <p> + Thus the Marquis d’Aigrigny had idolized his mother; dying, she + called him to her—and he turned away from the last prayer of a + parent in the agony of death. After such an example, how could M. + Baleinier hesitate to sacrifice Adrienne? The members of the Order, of + which he formed a part, were bound to him—but he was perhaps still + more strongly bound to them, for a long partnership in evil creates + terrible and indissoluble ties. + </p> + <p> + The moment M. Baleinier finished his fervid address to Mdlle. de + Cardoville, the slide of the wicket in the door was softly pushed back, + and a pair of eyes peered attentively into the chamber, unperceived by the + doctor. + </p> + <p> + Adrienne could not withdraw her gaze from the physician’s, which + seemed to fascinate her. Mute, overpowered, seized with a vague terror, + unable to penetrate the dark depths of this man’s soul, moved in + spite of herself by the accent of sorrow, half feigned and half real—the + young lady had a momentary feeling of doubt. For the first time, it came + into her mind, that M. Baleinier might perhaps be committing a frightful + error—committing it in good faith. + </p> + <p> + Besides, the anguish of the past night, the dangers of her position, her + feverish agitation, all concurred to fill her mind with trouble and + indecision. She looked at the physician with ever increasing surprise, and + making a violent effort not to yield to a weakness, of which she partly + foresaw the dreadful consequences, she exclaimed: “No, no, sir; I + will not, I cannot believe it. You have too much skill, too much + experience, to commit such an error.” + </p> + <p> + “An error!” said M. Baleinier, in a grave and sorrowful tone. + “Let me speak to you in the name of that skill and experience, which + you are pleased to ascribe to me. Hear me but for a moment, my dear child; + and then I will appeal to yourself.” + </p> + <p> + “To me!” replied the young girl, in a kind of stupor; “you + wish to persuade me, that—” Then, interrupting herself, she + added, with a convulsive laugh: “This only is wanting to your + triumph—to bring me to confess that I am mad—that my proper + place is here—that I owe you—” + </p> + <p> + “Gratitude. Yes, you do owe it me, even as I told you at the + commencement of this conversation. Listen to me then; my words may be + cruel, but there are wounds which can only be cured with steel and fire. I + conjure you, my dear child—reflect—throw back one impartial + glance at your past life—weigh your own thoughts—and you will + be afraid of yourself. Remember those moments of strange excitement, + during which, as you have told me, you seemed to soar above the earth—and, + above all, while it is yet time—while you preserve enough clearness + of mind to compare and judge—compare, I entreat, your manner of + living with that of other ladies of your age? Is there a single one who + acts as you act? who thinks as you think? unless, indeed, you imagine + yourself so superior to other women, that, in virtue of that supremacy, + you can justify a life and habits that have no parallel in the world.” + </p> + <p> + “I have never had such stupid pride, you know it well,” said + Adrienne, looking at the doctor with growing terror. + </p> + <p> + “Then, my dear child, to what are we to attribute your strange and + inexplicable mode of life? Can you even persuade yourself that it is + founded on reason? Oh, my child! take care?—As yet, you only indulge + in charming originalities of conduct, poetical eccentricities, sweet and + vague reveries—but the tendency is fatal, the downward course + irresistible. Take care, take care!—the healthful, graceful, + spiritual portion of your intelligence has yet the upper hand, and + imprints its stamp upon all your extravagances; but you do not know, + believe me, with what frightful force the insane portion of the mind, at a + given moment, develops itself and strangles up the rest. Then we have no + longer graceful eccentricities, like yours, but ridiculous, sordid, + hideous delusions.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! you frighten me,” said the unfortunate girl, as she + passed her trembling hands across her burning brow. + </p> + <p> + “Then,” continued M. Baleinier, in an agitated voice, “then + the last rays of intelligence are extinguished; then madness—for we + must pronounce the dreaded word—gets the upper hand, and displays + itself in furious and savage transports.” + </p> + <p> + “Like the woman upstairs,” murmured Adrienne, as, with fixed + and eager look, she raised her finger towards the ceiling. + </p> + <p> + “Sometimes,” continued the doctor, alarmed himself at the + terrible consequences of his own words, but yielding to the inexorable + fatality of his situation, “sometimes madness takes a stupid and + brutal form; the unfortunate creature, who is attacked by it, preserves + nothing human but the shape—has only the instincts of the lower + animals—eats with voracity, and moves ever backwards and forwards in + the cell, in which such a being is obliged to be confined. That is all its + life—all.” + </p> + <p> + “Like the woman yonder.” cried Adrienne, with a still wilder + look, as she slowly raised her arm towards the window that was visible on + the other side of the building. + </p> + <p> + “Why—yes,” said M. Baleinier. “Like you, unhappy + child, those women were young, fair, and sensible, but like you, alas! + they had in them the fatal germ of insanity, which, not having been + destroyed in time, grew, and grew, larger and ever larger, until it + overspread and destroyed their reason.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, mercy!” cried Mdlle. de Cardoville, whose head was + getting confused with terror; “mercy! do not tell me such things!—I + am afraid. Take me from this place—oh! take me from this place!” + she added, with a heartrending accent; “for, if I remain here, I + shall end by going mad! No,” added she, struggling with the terrible + agony which assailed her, “no, do not hope it! I shall not become + mad. I have all my reason. I am not blind enough to believe what you tell + me. Doubtless, I live differently from others; think differently from + others; am shocked by things that do not offend others; but what does all + this prove? Only that I am different from others. Have I a bad heart? Am I + envious or selfish? My ideas are singular, I knew—yes, I confess it—but + then, M. Baleinier, is not their tendency good, generous, noble!—Oh!” + cried Adrienne’s supplicating voice, while her tears flowed + abundantly, “I have never in my life done one malicious action; my + worst errors have arisen from excess of generosity. Is it madness to wish + to see everybody about one too happy? And again, if you are mad, you must + feel it yourself—and I do not feel it—and yet—I scarcely + know—you tell me such terrible things of those two women! You ought + to know these things better than I. But then,” added Mdlle, de + Cardoville, with an accent of the deepest despair, “something ought + to have been done. Why, if you felt an interest for me, did you wait so + long? Why did you not take pity on me sooner? But the most frightful fact + is, that I do not know whether I ought to believe you—for all this + may be a snare—but no, no! you weep—it is true, then!—you + weep!” She looked anxiously at M. Baleinier, who, notwithstanding + his cynical philosophy, could not restrain his tears at the sight of these + nameless tortures. + </p> + <p> + “You weep over me,” she continued; “so it is true! But + (good heaven!) must there not be something done? I will do all that you + wish—all—so that I may not be like those women. But if it + should be too late? no, it is not too late—say it is not too late, + my good M. Baleinier! Oh, now I ask your pardon for what I said when you + came in—but then I did not know, you see—I did not know!” + </p> + <p> + To these few broken words, interrupted by sobs, and rushing forth in a + sort of feverish excitement, succeeded a silence of some minutes, during + which the deeply affected physician dried his tears. His resolution had + almost failed him. Adrienne hid her face in her hands. Suddenly she again + lifted her head; her countenance was calmer than before, though agitated + by a nervous trembling. + </p> + <p> + “M. Baleinier,” she resumed, with touching dignity, “I + hardly know what I said to you just now. Terror, I think, made me wander; + I have again collected myself. Hear me! I know that I am in your power; I + know that nothing can deliver me from it. Are you an implacable enemy? or + are you a friend? I am not able to determine. Do you really apprehend, as + you assure me, that what is now eccentricity will hereafter become madness—or + are you rather the accomplice in some infernal machination? You alone can + answer. In spite of my boasted courage, I confess myself conquered. + Whatever is required of me—you understand, whatever it may be, I + will subscribe to, I give you my word and you know that I hold it sacred—you + have therefore no longer any interest to keep me here. If, on the + contrary, you really think my reason in danger—and I own that you + have awakened in my mind vague, but frightful doubts—tell it me, and + I will believe you. I am alone, at your mercy, without friends, without + counsel. I trust myself blindly to you. I know not whether I address + myself to a deliverer or a destroyer—but I say to you—here is + my happiness—here is my life—take it—I have no strength + to dispute it with you!” + </p> + <p> + These touching words, full of mournful resignation and almost hopeless + reliance, gave the finishing stroke to the indecision of M. Baleinier. + Already deeply moved by this scene, and without reflecting on the + consequences of what he was about to do, he determined at all events to + dissipate the terrible and unjust fears with which he had inspired + Adrienne. Sentiments of remorse and pity, which now animated the + physician, were visible in his countenance. + </p> + <p> + Alas! they were too visible. The moment he approached to take the hand of + Mdlle. de Cardoville, a low but sharp voice exclaimed from behind the + wicket: “M. Baleinier!” + </p> + <p> + “Rodin!” muttered the startled doctor to himself; “he’s + been spying on me!” + </p> + <p> + “Who calls you?” asked the lady of the physician. + </p> + <p> + “A person that I promised to meet here this morning.” replied + he, with the utmost depression, “to go with him to St. Mary’s + Convent, which is close at hand.” + </p> + <p> + “And what answer have you to give me?” said Adrienne with + mortal anguish. + </p> + <p> + After a moment’s solemn silence, during which he turned his face + towards the wicket, the doctor replied, in a voice of deep emotion: + “I am—what I have always been—a friend incapable of + deceiving you.” + </p> + <p> + Adrienne became deadly pale. Then, extending her hand to M. Baleinier, she + said to him in a voice that she endeavored to render calm: “Thank + you—I will have courage—but will it be very long?” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps a month. Solitude, reflection, a proper regimen, my + attentive care, may do much. You will be allowed everything that is + compatible with your situation. Every attention will be paid you. If this + room displeases you, I will see you have another.” + </p> + <p> + “No—this or another—it is of little consequence,” + answered Adrienne, with an air of the deepest dejection. + </p> + <p> + “Come, come! be of good courage. There is no reason to despair.” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps you flatter me,” said Adrienne with the shadow of a + smile. “Return soon,” she added, “my dear M. Baleinier! + my only hope rests in you now.” + </p> + <p> + Her head fell upon her bosom, her hands upon her knees and she remained + sitting on the edge of the bed, pale, motionless, overwhelmed with woe. + </p> + <p> + “Mad!” she said when M. Baleinier had disappeared. “Perhaps + mad!” + </p> + <p> + We have enlarged upon this episode much less romantic than it may appear. + Many times have motives of interest or vengeance or perfidious machination + led to the abuse of the imprudent facility with which inmates are received + in certain private lunatic asylums from the hands of their families or + friends. + </p> + <p> + We shall subsequently explain our views, as to the establishment of a + system of inspection, by the crown or the civil magistrates, for the + periodical survey of these institutions, and others of no less importance, + at present placed beyond the reach of all superintendence. These latter + are the nunneries of which we will presently have an example. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0046" id="link2HCH0046"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XLVI. PRESENTIMENTS. + </h2> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">W</span>hilst the + preceding events took place in Dr. Baleinier’s asylum, other scenes + were passing about the same hour, at Frances Baudoin’s, in the Rue + Brise-Miche. + </p> + <p> + Seven o’clock in the morning had just struck at St. Mary church; the + day was dark and gloomy, and the sleet rattled against the windows of the + joyless chamber of Dagobert’s wife. + </p> + <p> + As yet ignorant of her son’s arrest, Frances had waited for him the + whole of the preceding evening, and a good part of the night, with the + most anxious uneasiness; yielding at length to fatigue and sleep, about + three o’clock in the morning, she had thrown herself on a mattress + beside the bed of Rose and Blanche. But she rose with the first dawn of + day, to ascend to Agricola’s garret, in the very faint hope that he + might have returned home some hours before. + </p> + <p> + Rose and Blanche had just risen, and dressed themselves. They were alone + in the sad, chilly apartment. Spoil-sport, whom Dagobert had left in + Paris, was stretched at full length near the cold stove; with his long + muzzle resting on his forepaws, he kept his eye fixed on the sisters. + </p> + <p> + Having slept but little during the night, they had perceived the agitation + and anguish of Dagobert’s wife. They had seen her walk up and down, + now talking to herself, now listening to the least noise that came up the + staircase, and now kneeling before the crucifix placed at one extremity of + the room. The orphans were not aware, that, whilst she brayed with fervor + on behalf of her son, this excellent woman was praying for them also. For + the state of their souls filled her with anxiety and alarm. + </p> + <p> + The day before, when Dagobert had set out for Chartres, Frances, having + assisted Rose and Blanche to rise, had invited them to say their morning + prayer: they answered with the utmost simplicity, that they did not know + any, and that they never more than addressed their mother, who was in + heaven. When Frances, struck with painful surprise, spoke to them of + catechism, confirmation, communion, the sisters opened widely their large + eyes with astonishment, understanding nothing of such talk. + </p> + <p> + According to her simple faith, terrified at the ignorance of the young + girls in matters of religion, Dagobert’s wife believed their souls + to be in the greatest peril, the more so as, having asked them if they had + ever been baptized (at the same time explaining to them the nature of that + sacrament), the orphans answered they did not think they had, since there + was neither church nor priest in the village where they were born, during + their mother’s exile in Siberia. + </p> + <p> + Placing one’s self in the position of Frances, you understand how + much she was grieved and alarmed; for, in her eyes, these young girls, + whom she already loved tenderly, so charmed was she with their sweet + disposition, were nothing but poor heathens, innocently doomed to eternal + damnation. So, unable to restrain her tears, or conceal her horrors, she + had clasped them in her arms, promising immediately to attend to their + salvation, and regretting that Dagobert had not thought of having them + baptized by the way. Now, it must be confessed, that this notion had never + once occurred to the ex-grenadier. + </p> + <p> + When she went to her usual Sunday devotions, Frances had not dared to take + Rose and Blanche with her, as their complete ignorance of sacred things + would have rendered their presence at church, if not useless, scandalous; + but, in her own fervent prayers she implored celestial mercy for these + orphans, who did not themselves know the desperate position of their + souls. + </p> + <p> + Rose and Blanche were now left alone, in the absence of Dagobert’s + wife. They were still dressed in mourning, their charming faces seeming + even more pensive than usual. Though they were accustomed to a life of + misfortune, they had been struck, since their arrival in the Rue Brise + Miche, with the painful contrast between the poor dwelling which they had + come to inhabit, and the wonders which their young imagination had + conceived of Paris, that golden city of their dreams. But, soon this + natural astonishment was replaced by thoughts of singular gravity for + their age. The contemplation of such honest and laborious poverty made the + orphans have reflections no longer those of children, but of young women. + Assisted by their admirable spirit of justice and of sympathy for all that + is good, by their noble heart, by a character at once delicate and + courageous, they had observed and meditated much during the last + twenty-four hours. + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:65%;"> + <img src="images/10447m.jpg" alt="10447m " width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/10447.jpg"><i>Original</i></a> + </h5> + <p> + “Sister,” said Rose to Blanche, when Frances had quitted the + room, “Dagobert’s poor wife is very uneasy. Did you remark in + the night, how agitated she was? how she wept and prayed?” + </p> + <p> + “I was grieved to see it, sister, and wondered what could be the + cause.” + </p> + <p> + “I am almost afraid to guess. Perhaps we may be the cause of her + uneasiness?” + </p> + <p> + “Why so, sister? Because we cannot say prayers, nor tell if we have + ever been baptized?” + </p> + <p> + “That seemed to give her a good deal of pain, it is true. I was + quite touched by it, for it proves that she loves us tenderly. But I could + not understand how we ran such terrible danger as she said we did.” + </p> + <p> + “Nor I either, sister. We have always tried not to displease our + mother, who sees and hears us.” + </p> + <p> + “We love those who love us; we are resigned to whatever may happen + to us. So, who can reproach us with any harm?” + </p> + <p> + “No one. But, perhaps, we may do some without meaning it.” + </p> + <p> + “We?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, and therefore I thought: We may perhaps be the cause of her + uneasiness.” + </p> + <p> + “How so?” + </p> + <p> + “Listen, sister! yesterday Madame Baudoin tried to work at those + sacks of coarse cloth there on the table.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; but in about an half-hour, she told us sorrowfully, that she + could not go on, because her eyes failed her, and she could not see + clearly.” + </p> + <p> + “So that she is not able to earn her living.” + </p> + <p> + “No—but her son, M. Agricola, works for her. He looks so good, + so gay, so frank, and so happy to devote himself for his mother. Oh, + indeed! he is the worthy brother of our angel Gabriel!” + </p> + <p> + “You will see my reason for speaking of this. Our good old Dagobert + told us, that, when we arrived here, he had only a few pieces of money + left.” + </p> + <p> + “That is true.” + </p> + <p> + “Now both he and his wife are unable to earn their living; what can + a poor old soldier like him do?” + </p> + <p> + “You are right; he only knows how to love us, and take care of us, + like his children.” + </p> + <p> + “It must then be M. Agricola who will have to support his father; + for Gabriel is a poor priest, who possesses nothing, and can render no + assistance to those who have brought him up. So M. Agricola will have to + support the whole family by himself.” + </p> + <p> + “Doubtless—he owes it to father and mother—it is his + duty, and he will do it with a good will.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sister—but he owes us nothing.” + </p> + <p> + “What do you say, Blanche?” + </p> + <p> + “He is obliged to work for us also, as we possess nothing in the + world.” + </p> + <p> + “I had not thought of that. True.” + </p> + <p> + “It is all very well, sister, for our father to be Duke and Marshal + of France, as Dagobert tells us, it is all very well for us to hope great + things from this medal, but as long as father is not here, and our hopes + are not realized, we shall be merely poor orphans, obliged to remain a + burden to this honest family, to whom we already owe so much, and who find + it so hard to live, that—” + </p> + <p> + “Why do you pause, sister?” + </p> + <p> + “What I am about to say would make other people laugh; but you will + understand it. Yesterday, when Dagobert’s wife saw poor Spoil-sport + at his dinner, she said, sorrowfully: ‘Alas! he eats as much as a + man!’—so that I could almost have cried to hear her. They must + be very poor, and yet we have come to increase their poverty.” + </p> + <p> + The sisters looked sadly at each other, while Spoil-sport pretended not to + know they were talking of his voracity. + </p> + <p> + “Sister, I understand,” said Rose, after a moment’s + silence. “Well, we must not be at the charge of any one. We are + young, and have courage. Till our fate is decided, let us fancy ourselves + daughters of workmen. After all, is not our grandfather a workman? Let us + find some employment, and earn our own living. It must be so proud and + happy to earn one’s living!” + </p> + <p> + “Good little sister,” said Blanche, kissing Rose. “What + happiness! You have forestalled my thought; kiss me!” + </p> + <p> + “How so?” + </p> + <p> + “Your project is mine exactly. Yesterday, when I heard Dagobert’s + wife complain so sadly that she had lost her sight. I looked into your + large eyes, which reminded me of my own, and said to myself: ‘Well! + this poor old woman may have lost her sight, but Rose and Blanche Simon + can see pretty clearly’—which is a compensation,” added + Blanche, with a smile. + </p> + <p> + “And, after all,” resumed Rose, smiling in her turn, “the + young ladies in question are not so very awkward, as not to be able to sew + up great sacks of coarse cloth—though it may chafe their fingers a + little.” + </p> + <p> + “So we had both the same thought, as usual; only I wished to + surprise you, and waited till we were alone, to tell you my plan.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, but there is something teases me.” + </p> + <p> + “What is that?” + </p> + <p> + “First of all, Dagobert and his wife will be sure to say to us: + ‘Young ladies, you are not fitted for such work. What, daughters of + a Marshal of France sewing up great ugly bags!’ And then, if we + insist upon it, they will add: ‘Well, we have no work to give you. + If you want any, you must hunt for it.’ What would Misses Simon do + then?” + </p> + <p> + “The fact is, that when Dagobert has made up his mind to anything—” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! even then, if we coax him well—” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, in certain things; but in others he is immovable. It is just + as when upon the journey, we wished to prevent his doing so much for us.” + </p> + <p> + “Sister, an idea strikes me,” cried Rose, “an excellent + idea!” + </p> + <p> + “What is it? quick!” + </p> + <p> + “You know the young woman they call Mother Bunch, who appears to be + so serviceable and persevering?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh yes! and so timid and discreet. She seems always to be afraid of + giving offence, even if she looks at one. Yesterday, she did not perceive + that I saw her; but her eyes were fixed on you with so good and sweet an + expression, that tears came into mine at the very sight of it.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, we must ask her how she gets work, for certainly she lives by + her labor.” + </p> + <p> + “You are right. She will tell us all about it; and when we know, + Dagobert may scold us, or try to make great ladies of us, but we will be + as obstinate as he is.” + </p> + <p> + “That is it; we must show some spirit! We will prove to him, as he + says himself, that we have soldier’s blood in our veins.” + </p> + <p> + “We will say to him: ‘Suppose, as you say, we should one day + be rich, my good Dagobert, we shall only remember this time with the more + pleasure.” + </p> + <p> + “It is agreed then, is it not, Rose? The first time we are alone + with Mother Bunch, we must make her our confidant, and ask her for + information. She is so good a person, that she will not refuse us.” + </p> + <p> + “And when father comes home, he will be pleased, I am sure, with our + courage.” + </p> + <p> + “And will approve our wish to support ourselves, as if we were alone + in the world.” + </p> + <p> + On these words of her sister, Rose started. A cloud of sadness, almost of + alarm, passed over her charming countenance, as she exclaimed: “Oh, + sister, what a horrible idea!” + </p> + <p> + “What is the matter? your look frightens me.” + </p> + <p> + “At the moment I heard you say, that our father would approve our + wish to support ourselves, as if we were alone in the world—a + frightful thought struck me—I know not why—but feel how my + heart beats—just as if some misfortune were about to happen us.” + </p> + <p> + “It is true; your poor heart beats violently. But what was this + thought? You alarm me.” + </p> + <p> + “When we were prisoners, they did not at least separate us, and, + besides, the prison was a kind of shelter—” + </p> + <p> + “A sad one, though shared with you.” + </p> + <p> + “But if, when arrived here, any accident had parted us from Dagobert—if + we had been left alone, without help, in this great town?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, sister! do not speak of that. It would indeed be terrible. What + would become of us, kind heaven?” + </p> + <p> + This cruel thought made the girls remain for a moment speechless with + emotion. Their sweet faces, which had just before glowed with a noble + hope, grew pale and sad. After a pretty long silence, Rose uplifted her + eyes, now filled with tears, “Why does this thought,” she + said, trembling, “affect us so deeply, sister? My heart sinks within + me, as if it were really to happen to us.” + </p> + <p> + “I feel as frightened as you yourself. Alas! were we both to be lost + in this immense city, what would become of us?” + </p> + <p> + “Do not let us give way to such ideas, Blanche! Are we not here in + Dagobert’s house, in the midst of good people?” + </p> + <p> + “And yet, sister,” said Rose, with a pensive air, “it is + perhaps good for us to have had this thought.” + </p> + <p> + “Why so?” + </p> + <p> + “Because we shall now find this poor lodging all the better, as it + affords a shelter from all our fears. And when, thanks to our labor, we + are no longer a burden to any one, what more can we need until the arrival + of our father?” + </p> + <p> + “We shall want for nothing—there you are right—but + still, why did this thought occur to us, and why does it weigh so heavily + on our minds?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, indeed—why? Are we not here in the midst of friends that + love us? How could we suppose that we should ever be left alone in Paris? + It is impossible that such a misfortune should happen to us—is it + not, my dear sister?” + </p> + <p> + “Impossible!” said Rose, shuddering. “If the day before + we reached that village in Germany, where poor Jovial was killed, any one + had said to us: ‘To-morrow, you will be in prison’—we + should have answered as now: ‘It is impossible. Is not Dagobert here + to protect us; what have we to fear?’ And yet, sister, the day after + we were in prison at Leipsic.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! do not speak thus, my dear sister! It frightens me.” + </p> + <p> + By a sympathetic impulse, the orphans took one another by the hand, while + they pressed close together, and looked around with involuntary fear. The + sensation they felt was in fact deep, strange, inexplicable, and yet + lowering—one of those dark presentiments which come over us, in + spite of ourselves—those fatal gleams of prescience, which throw a + lurid light on the mysterious profundities of the future. + </p> + <p> + Unaccountable glimpses of divination! often no sooner perceived than + forgotten—but, when justified by the event, appearing with all the + attributes of an awful fatality! + </p> + <p> + The daughters of Marshal Simon were still absorbed in the mournful reverie + which these singular thoughts had awakened, when Dagobert’s wife, + returning from her son’s chamber, entered the room with a painfully + agitated countenance. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0047" id="link2HCH0047"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XLVII. THE LETTER. + </h2> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">F</span>rances’ + agitation was so perceptible that Rose could not help exclaiming: “Good + gracious, what is the matter?” + </p> + <p> + “Alas, my dear young ladies! I can no longer conceal it from you,” + said Frances, bursting into tears. “Since yesterday I have not seen + him. I expected my son to supper as usual, and he never came; but I would + not let you see how much I suffered. I continued to expect him, minute + after minute; for ten years he has never gone up to bed without coming to + kiss me; so I spent a good part of the night close to the door, listening + if I could hear his step. But he did not come; and, at last, about three o’clock + in the morning, I threw myself down upon the mattress. I have just been to + see (for I still had a faint hope), if my son had come in this morning—” + </p> + <p> + “Well, madame!” + </p> + <p> + “There is no sign of him!” said the poor mother, drying her + eyes. + </p> + <p> + Rose and Blanche looked at each other with emotion; the same thought + filled the minds of both; if Agricola should not return, how would this + family live? would they not, in such an event, become doubly burdensome? + </p> + <p> + “But, perhaps, madame,” said Blanche, “M. Agricola + remained too late at his work to return home last night.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! no, no! he would have returned in the middle of the night, + because he knew what uneasiness he would cause me by stopping out. Alas! + some misfortune must have happened to him! Perhaps he has been injured at + the forge, he is so persevering at his work. Oh, my poor boy! and, as if I + did not feel enough anxiety about him, I am also uneasy about the poor + young woman who lives upstairs.” + </p> + <p> + “Why so, madame?” + </p> + <p> + “When I left my son’s room, I went into hers, to tell her my + grief, for she is almost a daughter to me; but I did not find her in the + little closet where she lives, and the bed had not even been slept in. + Where can she have gone so early—she, that never goes out?” + </p> + <p> + Rose and Blanche looked at each other with fresh uneasiness, for they + counted much upon Mother Bunch to help them in the resolution they had + taken. Fortunately, both they and Frances were soon to be satisfied on + this head, for they heard two low knocks at the door, and the sempstress’s + voice, saying: “Can I come in, Mrs. Baudoin?” + </p> + <p> + By a spontaneous impulse, Rose and Blanche ran to the door, and opened it + to the young girl. Sleet and snow had been falling incessantly since the + evening before; the gingham dress of the young sempstress, her scanty + cotton shawl, and the black net cap, which, leaving uncovered two thick + bands of chestnut hair, encircled her pale and interesting countenance, + were all dripping wet; the cold had given a livid appearance to her thin, + white hands; it was only in the fire of her blue eyes, generally so soft + and timid, that one perceived the extraordinary energy which this frail + and fearful creature had gathered from the emergency of the occasion. + </p> + <p> + “Dear me! where do you come from, my good Mother Bunch?” said + Frances. “Just now, in going to see if my son had returned, I opened + your door, and was quite astonished to find you gone out so early.” + </p> + <p> + “I bring you news of Agricola.” + </p> + <p> + “Of my son!” cried Frances, trembling all over. “What + has happened to him? Did you see him?—Did you speak to him?—Where + is he?” + </p> + <p> + “I did not see him, but I know where he is.” Then, perceiving + that Frances grew very pale, the girl added: “He is well; he is in + no danger.” + </p> + <p> + “Blessed be God, who has pity on a poor sinner!—who yesterday + restored me my husband, and to-day, after a night of cruel anguish, + assures me of the safety of my child!” So saying, Frances knelt down + upon the floor, and crossed herself with fervor. + </p> + <p> + During the moment of silence, caused by this pious action, Rose and + Blanche approached Mother Bunch, and said to her in a low voice, with an + expression of touching interest: “How wet you are! you must be very + cold. Take care you do not get ill. We did not venture to ask Madame + Frances to light the fire in the stove, but now we will do so.” + </p> + <p> + Surprised and affected by the kindness of Marshal Simon’s daughters, + the hunchback, who was more sensible than others to the least mark of + kindness, answered them with a look of ineffable gratitude: “I am + much obliged to you, young ladies; but I am accustomed to the cold, and am + moreover so anxious that I do not feel it.” + </p> + <p> + “And my son?” said Frances, rising after she had remained some + moments on her knees; “why did he stay out all night? And could you + tell me where to find him, my good girl? Will he soon come? why is he so + long?” + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:65%;"> + <img src="images/10455m.jpg" alt="10455m " width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/10455.jpg"><i>Original</i></a> + </h5> + <p> + “I assure you, Agricola is well; but I must inform you, that for + some time—” + </p> + <p> + “Well?” + </p> + <p> + “You must have courage, mother.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! the blood runs cold in my veins. What has happened? why shall I + not see him?” + </p> + <p> + “Alas, he is arrested.” + </p> + <p> + “Arrested!” cried Rose and Blanche, with affright. + </p> + <p> + “Father! Thy will be done!” said Frances; “but it is a + great misfortune. Arrested! for what? He is so good and honest, that there + must be some mistake.” + </p> + <p> + “The day before yesterday,” resumed Mother Bunch, “I + received an anonymous letter, by which I was informed that Agricola might + be arrested at any moment, on account of his song. We agreed together that + he should go to the rich young lady in the Rue de Babylone, who had + offered him her services, and ask her to procure bail for him; to prevent + his going to prison. Yesterday morning he set out to go to the young lady’s.” + </p> + <p> + “And neither of you told me anything of all this—why did you + hide it from me?” + </p> + <p> + “That we might not make you uneasy, mother; for, counting on the + generosity of that young lady, I expected Agricola back every moment. When + he did not come yesterday evening. I said to myself: ‘Perhaps the + necessary formalities with regard to the bail have detained him.’ + But the time passed on, and he did not make his appearance. So, I watched + all night, expecting him.” + </p> + <p> + “So you did not go to bed either, my good girl?” + </p> + <p> + “No, I was too uneasy. This morning, not being able to conquer my + fears, I went out before dawn. I remembered the address of the young lady + in the Rue de Babylone, and I ran thither.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, well!” said Frances, with anxiety; “you were in the + right. According to what my son told us, that young lady appeared very + good and generous.” + </p> + <p> + Mother Bunch shook her head sorrowfully; a tear glittered in her eyes, as + she continued: “It was still dark when I arrived at the Rue de + Babylone; I waited till daylight was come.” + </p> + <p> + “Poor child! you, who are so weak and timid,” said Frances, + with deep feeling, “to go so far, and in this dreadful weather!—Oh, + you have been a real daughter to me!” + </p> + <p> + “Has not Agricola been like a brother to me!” said Mother + Bunch, softly, with a slight blush. + </p> + <p> + “When it was daylight,” she resumed: “I ventured to ring + at the door of the little summer-house; a charming young girl, but with a + sad, pale countenance, opened the door to me. ‘I come in the name of + an unfortunate mother in despair,’ said I to her immediately, for I + was so poorly dressed that I feared to be sent away as a beggar; but + seeing, on the contrary, that the young girl listened to me with kindness, + I asked her if, the day before, a young workman had not come to solicit a + great favor of her mistress. ‘Alas! yes,’ answered the young + girl; ‘my mistress was going to interest herself for him, and, + hearing that he was in danger of being arrested, she concealed him here; + unfortunately, his retreat was discovered, and yesterday afternoon, at + four o’clock, he was arrested and taken to prison.’” + </p> + <p> + Though the orphans took no part in this melancholy conversation, the + sorrow and anxiety depicted in their countenances, showed how much they + felt for the sufferings of Dagobert’s wife. + </p> + <p> + “But the young lady?” cried Frances. “You should have + tried to see her, my good Mother Bunch, and begged her not to abandon my + son. She is so rich that she must have influence, and her protection might + save us from great calamities.” + </p> + <p> + “Alas!” said Mother Bunch, with bitter grief, “we must + renounce this last hope.” + </p> + <p> + “Why?” said Frances. “If this young lady is so good, she + will have pity upon us, when she knows that my son is the only support of + a whole family, and that for him to go to prison is worse than for + another, because it will reduce us all to the greatest misery.” + </p> + <p> + “But this young lady,” replied the girl, “according to + what I learned from her weeping maid, was taken last evening to a lunatic + asylum: it appears she is mad.” + </p> + <p> + “Mad! Oh! it is horrible for her, and for us also—for now + there is no hope. What will become of us without my son? Oh, merciful + heaven!” The unfortunate woman hid her face in her hands. + </p> + <p> + A profound silence followed this heart-rending outburst. Rose and Blanche + exchanged mournful glances, for they perceived that their presence + augmented the weighty embarrassments of this family. Mother Bunch, worn + out with fatigue, a prey to painful emotions, and trembling with cold in + her wet clothes, sank exhausted on a chair, and reflected on their + desperate position. + </p> + <p> + That position was indeed a cruel one! + </p> + <p> + Often, in times of political disturbances, or of agitation amongst the + laboring classes, caused by want of work, or by the unjust reduction of + wages (the result of the powerful coalition of the capitalists)—often + are whole families reduced, by a measure of preventive imprisonment, to as + deplorable a position as that of Dagobert’s household by Agricola’s + arrest—an arrest, which, as will afterwards appear, was entirely + owing to Rodin’s arts. + </p> + <p> + Now, with regard to this “precautionary imprisonment,” of + which the victims are almost always honest and industrious mechanics, + driven to the necessity of combining together by the In organization of + Labor and the Insufficiency of Wages, it is painful to see the law, which + ought to be equal for all, refuse to strikers what it grants to masters—because + the latter can dispose of a certain sum of money. Thus, under many + circumstances, the rich man, by giving bail, can escape the annoyance and + inconveniences of a preventive incarceration; he deposits a sum of money, + pledges his word to appear on a certain day, and goes back to his + pleasures, his occupations, and the sweet delights of his family. Nothing + can be better; an accused person is innocent till he is proved guilty; we + cannot be too much impressed with that indulgent maxim. It is well for the + rich man that he can avail himself of the mercy of the law. But how is it + with the poor? + </p> + <p> + Not only has he no bail to give, for his whole capital consists of his + daily labor; but it is upon him chiefly that the rigors of preventive + measures must fall with a terrible and fatal force. + </p> + <p> + For the rich man, imprisonment is merely the privation of ease and + comfort, tedious hours, and the pain of separation from his family—distresses + not unworthy of interest, for all suffering deserves pity, and the tears + of the rich man separated from his children are as bitter as those of the + poor. But the absence of the rich man does not condemn his family to + hunger and cold, and the incurable maladies caused by exhaustion and + misery. + </p> + <p> + For the workman, on the contrary, imprisonment means want, misery, + sometimes death, to those most dear to him. Possessing nothing, he is + unable to find bail, and he goes to prison. But if he have, as it often + happens, an old, infirm father or mother, a sick wife, or children in the + cradle? What will become of this unfortunate family? They could hardly + manage to live from day to day upon the wages of this man, wages almost + always insufficient, and suddenly this only resource will be wanting for + three or four months together. + </p> + <p> + What will this family do? To whom will they have recourse? + </p> + <p> + What will become of these infirm old men, these sickly wives, these little + children, unable to gain their daily bread? If they chance to have a + little linen and a few spare clothes, these will be carried to the + pawnbroker’s, and thus they will exist for a week or so—but + afterwards? + </p> + <p> + And if winter adds the rigors of the season to this frightful and + inevitable misery? + </p> + <p> + Then will the imprisoned artisan see in his mind’s eyes, during the + long and sleepless nights, those who are dear to him, wan, gaunt, haggard, + exhausted, stretched almost naked upon filthy straw, or huddled close + together to warm their frozen limbs. And, should he afterwards be + acquitted, it is ruin and desolation that he finds on his return to his + poor dwelling. + </p> + <p> + And then, after that long cessation from labor, he will find it difficult + to return to his old employers. How many days will be lost in seeking for + work! and a day without employment is a day without bread! + </p> + <p> + Let us repeat our opinion, that if, under various circumstances, the law + did not afford to the rich the facility of giving bail, we could only + lament over all such victims of individual and inevitable misfortune. But + since the law does provide the means of setting provisionally at liberty + those who possess a certain sum of money, why should it deprive of this + advantage those very persons, for whom liberty is indeed indispensable, as + it involves the existence of themselves and families? + </p> + <p> + Is there any remedy for this deplorable state of things? We believe there + is. + </p> + <p> + The law has fixed the minimum of bail at five hundred francs. Now five + hundred francs represent, upon the average, six months’ labor of an + industrious workman. + </p> + <p> + If he have a wife and two children (which is also about the average), it + is evidently quite impossible for him to have saved any such sum. + </p> + <p> + So, to ask of such a man five hundred francs, to enable him to continue to + support his family, is in fact to put him beyond the pale of the law, + though, more than any one else, he requires its protection, because of the + disastrous consequences which his imprisonment entails upon others. + </p> + <p> + Would it not be equitable and humane, a noble and salutary example, to + accept, in every case where bail is allowed (and where the good character + of the accused could be honorably established), moral guarantees, in the + absence of material ones, from those who have no capital but their labor + and their integrity—to accept the word of an honest man to appear + upon the day of trial? Would it not be great and moral, in these days to + raise the value of the lighted word, and exalt man in his own eyes, by + showing him that his promise was held to be sufficient security? + </p> + <p> + Will you so degrade the dignity of man, as to treat this proposition as an + impossible and Utopian dream? We ask, how many prisoners of war have ever + broken their parole, and if officers and soldiers are not brothers of the + workingman? + </p> + <p> + Without exaggerating the virtue of promise-keeping in the honest and + laborious poor, we feel certain, that an engagement taken by the accused + to appear on the day of trial would be always fulfilled, not only with + fidelity, but with the warmest gratitude—for his family would not + have suffered by his absence, thanks to the indulgence of the law. + </p> + <p> + There is also another fact, of which France may well be proud. It is, that + her magistrates (although miserably paid as the army itself) are generally + wise, upright, humane, and independent; they have the true feeling of + their own useful and sacred mission; they know how to appreciate the wants + and distresses of the working classes, with whom they are so often brought + in contact; to them might be safely granted the power of fixing those + cases in which a moral security, the only one that can be given by the + honest and necessitous man, should be received as sufficient.(10) + </p> + <p> + Finally, if those who make the laws have so low an opinion of the people + as to reject with disdain the suggestions we have ventured to throw out, + let them at least so reduce the minimum of bail, as to render it available + for those who have most need to escape the fruitless rigors of + imprisonment. Let them take as their lowest limit, the month’s wages + of an artisan—say eighty francs. + </p> + <p> + This sum would still be exorbitant; but, with the aid of friends, the + pawnbroker’s, and some little advances, eighty francs might perhaps + be found—not always, it is true—but still sometimes—and, + at all events, many families would be rescued from frightful misery. + </p> + <p> + Having made these observations, let us return to Dagobert’s family, + who, in consequence of the preventive arrest of Agricola, were now reduced + to an almost hopeless state. + </p> + <p> + The anguish of Dagobert’s wife increased, the more she reflected on + her situation, for, including the marshal’s daughters, four persons + were left absolutely without resource. It must be confessed, however, that + the excellent mother thought less of herself, than of the grief which her + son must feel in thinking over her deplorable position. + </p> + <p> + At this moment there was a knock at the door. + </p> + <p> + “Who is there?” said Frances. + </p> + <p> + “It is me—Father Loriot.” + </p> + <p> + “Come in,” said Dagobert’s wife. + </p> + <p> + The dyer, who also performed the functions of a porter, appeared at the + door of the room. This time, his arms were no longer of a bright apple + green, but of a magnificent violet. + </p> + <p> + “Mrs. Baudoin,” said Father Loriot, “here is a letter + that the giver of holy water at Saint Merely’s has just brought from + Abbe Dubois, with a request that I would bring it up to you immediately, + as it is very pressing.” + </p> + <p> + “A letter from my confessor?” said Frances, in astonishment; + and, as she took it, added: “Thank you, Father Loriot.” + </p> + <p> + “You do not want anything?” + </p> + <p> + “No, Father Loriot.” + </p> + <p> + “My respects to the ladies!” and the dyer went out. + </p> + <p> + “Mother Bunch, will you read this letter for me?” said + Frances, anxious to learn the contents of the missive in question. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, mother,”—and the young girl read as follows: + </p> + <p> + “‘MY DEAR MADAME BAUDOIN,—I am in the habit of hearing + you Tuesday and Saturday, but I shall not be at liberty either to-morrow + or the last day of the week; you must then come to me this morning, unless + you wish to remain a whole week without approaching the tribunal of + penance.’” + </p> + <p> + “Good heavens! a week!” cried Dagobert’s wife. “Alas! + I am only too conscious of the necessity of going there today, + notwithstanding the trouble and grief in which I am plunged.” + </p> + <p> + Then, addressing herself to the orphans, she continued: “Heaven has + heard the prayers that I made for you, my dear young ladies; this very day + I shall be able to consult a good and holy man with regard to the great + dangers to which you are exposed. Poor dear souls, that are so innocent, + and yet so guilty, without any fault of your own! Heaven is my witness, + that my heart bleeds for you as much as for my son.” + </p> + <p> + Rose and Blanche looked at each other in confusion; they could not + understand the fears with which the state of their souls inspired the wife + of Dagobert. The latter soon resumed, addressing the young sempstress: + </p> + <p> + “My good girl, will you render me yet another service?” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly.” + </p> + <p> + “My husband took Agricola’s week’s wages with him to pay + his journey to Chartres. It was all the money I had in the house; I am + sure that my poor child had none about him, and in prison he will perhaps + want some. Therefore take my silver cup, fork, and spoon, the two pair of + sheets that remain over, and my wadded silk shawl, that Agricola gave me + on my birthday, and carry them all to the pawnbroker’s. I will try + and find out in which prison my son is confined, and will send him half of + the little sum we get upon the things; the rest will serve us till my + husband comes home. And then, what shall we do? What a blow for him—and + only more misery in prospect—since my son is in prison, and I have + lost my sight. Almighty Father!” cried the unfortunate mother, with + an expression of impatient and bitter grief, “why am I thus + afflicted? Have I not done enough to deserve some pity, if not for myself, + at least for those belonging to me?” But immediately reproaching + herself for this outburst, she added, “No, no! I ought to accept + with thankfulness all that Thou sandiest me. Forgive me for these + complaints, or punish only myself!” + </p> + <p> + “Be of good courage, mother!” said Mother Bunch. “Agricola + is innocent, and will not remain long in prison.” + </p> + <p> + “But now I think of it,” resumed Dagobert’s wife, + “to go to the pawnbroker’s will make you lose much time, my + poor girl.” + </p> + <p> + “I can make up that in the night, Madame Frances; I could not sleep, + knowing you in such trouble. Work will amuse me.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, but the candles—” + </p> + <p> + “Never mind, I am a little beforehand with my work,” said the + poor girl, telling a falsehood. + </p> + <p> + “Kiss me, at least,” said Frances, with moist eyes, “for + you are the very best creature in the world.” So saying, she + hastened cut of the room. + </p> + <p> + Rose and Blanche were left alone with Mother Bunch; at length had arrived + the moment for which they had waited with so much impatience. Dagobert’s + wife proceeded to St. Merely Church, where her confessor was expecting to + see her. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0048" id="link2HCH0048"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XLVIII. THE CONFESSIONAL + </h2> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">N</span>othing could be + more gloomy than the appearance of St. Merely Church, on this dark and + snowy winter’s day. Frances stopped a moment beneath the porch, to + behold a lugubrious spectacle. + </p> + <p> + While a priest was mumbling some words in a low voice, two or three dirty + choristers, in soiled surplices, were charting the prayers for the dead, + with an absent and sullen air, round a plain deal coffin, followed only by + a sobbing old man and a child, miserably clad. The beadle and the + sacristan, very much displeased at being disturbed for so wretched a + funeral, had not deigned to put on their liveries, but, yawning with + impatience, waited for the end of the ceremony, so useless to the + interests of the establishment. At length, a few drops of holy water being + sprinkled on the coffin, the priest handed the brush to the beadle, and + retired. + </p> + <p> + Then took place one of those shameful scenes, the necessary consequence of + an ignoble and sacrilegious traffic, so frequent with regard to the + burials of the poor, who cannot afford to pay for tapers, high mass, or + violins—for now St. Thomas Aquinas’ Church has violins even + for the dead. + </p> + <p> + The old man stretched forth his hand to the sacristan to receive the + brush. “Come, look sharp!” said that official, blowing on his + fingers. + </p> + <p> + The emotion of the old man was profound, and his weakness extreme; he + remained for a moment without stirring, while the brush was clasped + tightly in his trembling hand. In that coffin was his daughter, the mother + of the ragged child who wept by his side—his heart was breaking at + the thought of that last farewell; he stood motionless, and his bosom + heaved with convulsive sobs. + </p> + <p> + “Now, will you make haste?” said the brutal beadle. “Do + you think we are going to sleep here?” + </p> + <p> + The old man quickened his movements. He made the sign of the cross over + the corpse, and, stooping down, was about to place the brush in the hand + of his grandson, when the sacristan, thinking the affair had lasted long + enough, snatched the sprinkling-brush from the child, and made a sign to + the bearers to carry away the coffin—which was immediately done. + </p> + <p> + “Wasn’t that old beggar a slow coach?” said the beadle + to his companion, as they went back to the sacristy. “We shall + hardly have time to get breakfast, and to dress ourselves for the bang-up + funeral of this morning. That will be something like a dead man, that’s + worth the trouble. I shall shoulder my halberd in style!” + </p> + <p> + “And mount your colonel’s epaulets, to throw dust in the eyes + of the women that let out the chairs—eh, you old rascal!” said + the other, with a sly look. + </p> + <p> + “What can I do, Capillare? When one has a fine figure, it must be + seen,” answered the beadle, with a triumphant air. “I cannot + blind the women to prevent their losing their hearts!” + </p> + <p> + Thus conversing; the two men reached the sacristy. The sight of the + funeral had only increased the gloom of Frances. When she entered the + church, seven or eight persons, scattered about upon chairs, alone + occupied the damp and icy building. One of the distributors of holy water, + an old fellow with a rubicund, joyous, wine-bibbing face, seeing Frances + approach the little font, said to her in a low voice: “Abbe Dubois + is not yet in his box. Be quick, and you will have the first wag of his + beard.” + </p> + <p> + Though shocked at this pleasantry, Frances thanked the irreverent speaker, + made devoutly the sign of the cross, advanced some steps into the church, + and knelt down upon the stones to repeat the prayer, which she always + offered up before approaching the tribunal of penance. Having said this + prayer, she went towards a dark corner of the church, in which was an + oaken confessional, with a black curtain drawn across the grated door. The + places on each side were vacant; so Frances knelt down in that upon the + right hand, and remained there for some time absorbed in bitter + reflections. + </p> + <p> + In a few minutes, a priest of tall stature, with gray hair and a stern + countenance, clad in a long black cassock, stalked slowly along one of the + aisles of the church. A short, old, misshapen man, badly dressed, leaning + upon an umbrella, accompanied him, and from time to time whispered in his + ear, when the priest would stop to listen with a profound and respectful + deference. + </p> + <p> + As they approached the confessional, the short old man, perceiving Frances + on her knees, looked at the priest with an air of interrogation. “It + is she,” said the clergyman. + </p> + <p> + “Well, in two or three hours, they will expect the two girls at St. + Mary’s Convent. I count upon it,” said the old man. + </p> + <p> + “I hope so, for the sake of their souls,” answered the priest; + and, bowing gravely, he entered the confessional. The short old man + quitted the church. + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:65%;"> + <img src="images/10465m.jpg" alt="10465m " width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/10465.jpg"><i>Original</i></a> + </h5> + <p> + This old man was Rodin. It was on leaving Saint Merely’s that he + went to the lunatic asylum, to assure himself that Dr. Baleinier had + faithfully executed his instructions with regard to Adrienne de + Cardoville. + </p> + <p> + Frances was still kneeling in the interior of the confessional. One of the + slides opened, and a voice began to speak. It was that of the priest, who, + for the last twenty years had been the confessor of Dagobert’s wife, + and exercised over her an irresistible and all-powerful influence. + </p> + <p> + “You received my letter?” said the voice. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, father. + </p> + <p> + “Very well—I listen to you.” + </p> + <p> + “Bless me, father—for I have sinned!” said Frances. + </p> + <p> + The voice pronounced the formula of the benediction. Dagobert’s wife + answered “amen,” as was proper, said her confider to “It + is my fault,” gave an account of the manner in which she had + performed her last penance, and then proceeded to the enumeration of the + new sins, committed since she had received absolution. + </p> + <p> + For this excellent woman, a glorious martyr of industry and maternal love, + always fancied herself sinning: her conscience was incessantly tormented + by the fear that she had committed some incomprehensible offence. This + mild and courageous creature, who, after a whole life of devotion, ought + to have passed what time remained to her in calm serenity of soul, looked + upon herself as a great sinner, and lived in continual anxiety, doubting + much her ultimate salvation. + </p> + <p> + “Father,” said Frances, in a trembling voice, “I accuse + myself of omitting my evening prayer the day before yesterday. My husband, + from whom I had been separated for many years, returned home. The joy and + the agitation caused by his arrival, made me commit this great sin.” + </p> + <p> + “What next?” said the voice, in a severe tone, which redoubled + the poor woman’s uneasiness. + </p> + <p> + “Father, I accuse myself of falling into the same sin yesterday + evening. I was in a state of mortal anxiety, for my son did not come home + as usual, and I waited for him minute after minute, till the hour had + passed over.” + </p> + <p> + “What next?” said the voice. + </p> + <p> + “Father, I accuse myself of having told a falsehood all this week to + my son, by letting him think that on account of his reproaching me for + neglecting my health, I had taken a little wine for my dinner—whereas + I had left it for him, who has more need of it, because he works so much.” + </p> + <p> + “Go on!” said the voice. + </p> + <p> + “Father, I accuse myself of a momentary want of resignation this + morning, when I learned that my poor son was arrested; instead of + submitting with respect and gratitude to this new trial which the Lord + hath sent me—alas! I rebelled against it in my grief—and of + this I accuse myself.” + </p> + <p> + “A bad week,” said the priest, in a tone of still greater + severity, “a bad week—for you have always put the creature + before the Creator. But proceed!” + </p> + <p> + “Alas, father!” resumed Frances, much dejected, “I know + that I am a great sinner; and I fear that I am on the road to sins of a + still graver kind.” + </p> + <p> + “Speak!” + </p> + <p> + “My husband brought with him from Siberia two young orphans, + daughters of Marshal Simon. Yesterday morning, I asked them to say their + prayers, and I learned from them, with as much fright as sorrow, that they + know none of the mysteries of our holy faith, though they are fifteen + years old. They have never received the sacrament, nor are they even + baptized, father—not even baptized!” + </p> + <p> + “They must be heathens!” cried the voice, in a tone of angry + surprise. + </p> + <p> + “That is what so much grieves me, father; for, as I and my husband + are in the room of parents to these young orphans, we should be guilty of + the sins which they might commit—should we not, father?” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly,—since you take the place of those who ought to + watch over their souls. The shepherd must answer for his flock,” + said the voice. + </p> + <p> + “And if they should happen to be in mortal sin, father, I and my + husband would be in mortal sin?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said the voice; “you take the place of their + parents; and fathers and mothers are guilty of all the sins which their + children commit when those sins arise from the want of a Christian + education.” + </p> + <p> + “Alas, father! what am I to do? I address myself to you as I would + to heaven itself. Every day, every hour, that these poor young girls + remain heathens, may contribute to bring about their eternal damnation, + may it not, father?” said Frances, in a tone of the deepest emotion. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” answered the voice; “and the weight of this + terrible responsibility rests upon you and your husband; you have the + charge of souls!” + </p> + <p> + “Lord, have mercy upon me!” said Frances weeping. + </p> + <p> + “You must not grieve yourself thus,” answered the voice, in a + softer tone; “happily for these unfortunates, they have met you upon + the way. They, will have in you and your husband good and pious examples—for + I suppose that your husband, though formerly an ungodly person, now + practices his religious duties!” + </p> + <p> + “We must pray for him, father,” said Frances, sorrowfully; + “grace has not yet touched his heart. He is like my poor child, who + has also not been called to holiness. Ah, father!” said Frances, + drying her tears, “these thoughts are my heaviest cross.” + </p> + <p> + “So neither your husband nor your son practises,” resumed the + voice, in a tone of reflection; “this is serious—very serious. + The religious education of these two unfortunate girls has yet to begin. + In your house, they will have ever before them the most deplorable + examples. Take care! I have warned you. You have the charge of souls—your + responsibility is immense!” + </p> + <p> + “Father, it is that which makes me wretched—I am at a loss + what to do. Help me, and give me your counsels: for twenty years your + voice has been to me as the voice of the Lord.” + </p> + <p> + “Well! you must agree with your husband to send these unfortunate + girls to some religious house where they may be instructed.” + </p> + <p> + “We are too poor, father, to pay for their schooling, and + unfortunately my son has just been put in prison for songs that he wrote.” + </p> + <p> + “Behold the fruit of impiety,” said the voice, severely; + “look at Gabriel! he has followed my counsels, and is now the model + of every Christian virtue.” + </p> + <p> + “My son, Agricola, has had good qualities, father; he is so kind, so + devoted!” + </p> + <p> + “Without religion,” said the voice, with redoubled severity, + “what you call good qualities are only vain appearances; at the + least breath of the devil they will disappear—for the devil lurks in + every soul that has no religion.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! my poor son!” said Frances, weeping; “I pray for + him every day, that faith may enlighten him.” + </p> + <p> + “I have always told you,” resumed the voice, “that you + have been too weak with him. God now punishes you for it. You should have + parted from this irreligious son, and not sanctioned his impiety by loving + him as you do. ‘If thy right hand offend thee, cut it off,’ + saith the Scripture.” + </p> + <p> + “Alas, father! you know it is the only time I have disobeyed you; + but I could not bring myself to part from my son.” + </p> + <p> + “Therefore is your salvation uncertain—but God is merciful. Do + not fall into the same fault with regard to these young girls, whom + Providence has sent you, that you might save them from eternal damnation. + Do not plunge them into it by your own culpable indifference.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, father! I have wept and prayed for them.” + </p> + <p> + “That is not sufficient. These unfortunate children cannot have any + notion of good or evil. Their souls must be an abyss of scandal and + impurity—brought up as they have been, by an impious mother, and a + soldier devoid of religion.” + </p> + <p> + “As for that, father,” said Frances, with simplicity, “they + are gentle as angels, and my husband, who has not quitted them since their + birth, declares they have the best hearts in the world.” + </p> + <p> + “Your husband has dwelt all his life in mortal sin,” said the + voice, harshly; “how can he judge of the state of souls? I repeat to + you, that as you represent the parents of these unfortunates, it is not + to-morrow, but it is today, and on the instant, that you must labor for + their salvation, if you would not incur a terrible responsibility.” + </p> + <p> + “It is true—I know it well, father—and I suffer as much + from this fear as from grief at my son’s arrest. But what is to be + done? I could not instruct these young girls at home—for I have not + the knowledge—I have only faith—and then my poor husband, in + his blindness, makes game of sacred things, which my son, at least, + respects in my presence, out of regard for me. Then, once more, father, + come to my aid, I conjure you! Advise me: what is to be done?” + </p> + <p> + “We cannot abandon these two young souls to frightful perdition,” + said the voice, after a moment’s silence: “there are not two + ways of saving them: there is only one, and that is to place them in a + religious house, where they may be surrounded by good and pious examples.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, father! if we were not so poor, or if I could still work, I + would try to gain sufficient to pay for their board, and do for them as I + did for Gabriel. Unfortunately, I have quite lost my sight; but you, + father, know some charitable souls, and if you could get any of them to + interest them, selves for these poor orphans—” + </p> + <p> + “Where is their father?” + </p> + <p> + “He was in India; but, my husband tells me, he will soon be in + France. That, however, is uncertain. Besides, it would make my heart bleed + to see those poor children share our misery—which will soon be + extreme—for we only live by my son’s labor.” + </p> + <p> + “Have these girls no relation here?” asked the voice. + </p> + <p> + “I believe not, father.” + </p> + <p> + “It was their mother who entrusted them to your husband, to bring + them to France?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, father; he was obliged to set out yesterday for Chartres, on + some very pressing business, as he told me.” + </p> + <p> + It will be remembered that Dagobert had not thought fit to inform his wife + of the hopes which the daughters of Marshall Simon founded on the + possession of the medal, and that he had particularly charged them not to + mention these hopes, even to Frances. + </p> + <p> + “So,” resumed the voice, after a pause of some moments’ + duration, “your husband is not in Paris.” + </p> + <p> + “No, father; but he will doubtless return this evening or to-morrow + morning.” + </p> + <p> + “Listen to me,” said the voice, after another pause. “Every + minute lost for those two young girls is a new step on the road to + perdition. At any moment the hand of God may smite them, for He alone + knows the hour of our death; and were they to die in the state in which + they now are, they would most probably be lost to all eternity. This very + day, therefore, you must open their eyes to the divine light, and place + them in a religious house. It is your duty—it should be your desire!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes, father; but, unfortunately, I am too poor, as I have + already told you.” + </p> + <p> + “I know it—you do not want for zeal or faith—but even + were you capable of directing these young girls, the impious examples of + your husband and son would daily destroy your work. Others must do for + these orphans, in the name of Christian charity, that which you cannot do, + though you are answerable for them before heaven.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, father! if, thanks to you, this good work could be + accomplished, how grateful I should be!” + </p> + <p> + “It is not impossible. I know the superior of a convent, where these + young girls would be instructed as they ought. The charge for their board + would be diminished in consideration of their poverty; but, however small, + it must be paid and there would be also an outfit to furnish. All that + would be too dear for you.” + </p> + <p> + “Alas! yes, father.” + </p> + <p> + “But, by taking a little from my poor-box, and by applying to one or + two generous persons, I think I shall be able to complete the necessary + sum, and so get the young girls received at the convent.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, father! you are my deliverer, and these children’s.” + </p> + <p> + “I wish to be so—but, in the interest of their salvation, and + to make these measures really efficacious, I must attach some conditions + to the support I offer you.” + </p> + <p> + “Name them, father; they are accepted beforehand. Your commands + shall be obeyed in everything.” + </p> + <p> + “First of all, the children must be taken this very morning to the + convent, by my housekeeper, to whom you must bring them almost + immediately.” + </p> + <p> + “Nay, father; that is impossible!” cried Frances. + </p> + <p> + “Impossible? why?” + </p> + <p> + “In the absence of my husband—” + </p> + <p> + “Well?” + </p> + <p> + “I dare not take a such a step without consulting him.” + </p> + <p> + “Not only must you abstain from consulting him, but the thing must + be done during his absence.” + </p> + <p> + “What, father? should I not wait for his return?” + </p> + <p> + “No, for two reasons,” answered the priest, sternly: “first, + because his hardened impiety would certainly lead him to oppose your pious + resolution; secondly, because it is indispensable that these young girls + should break off all connection with your husband, who, therefore, must be + left in ignorance of the place of their retreat.” + </p> + <p> + “But, father,” said Frances, a prey to cruel doubt and + embarrassment, “it is to my husband that these children were + entrusted—and to dispose of them without his consent would be—” + </p> + <p> + “Can you instruct these children at your house—yes or no?” + interrupted the voice. + </p> + <p> + “No, father, I cannot.” + </p> + <p> + “Are they exposed to fall into a state of final impenitence by + remaining with you—yes or no?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, father, they are so exposed.” + </p> + <p> + “Are you responsible, as you take the place of their parents, for + the mortal sins they may commit—yes or no?” + </p> + <p> + “Alas, father! I am responsible before God.” + </p> + <p> + “Is it in the interest of their eternal salvation that I enjoin you + to place them this very day in a convent?” + </p> + <p> + “It is for their salvation, father.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, then, choose!” + </p> + <p> + “But tell me, I entreat you, father if I have the right to dispose + of them without the consent of my husband?” + </p> + <p> + “The right! you have not only the right, but it is your sacred duty. + Would you not be bound, I ask you, to rescue these unfortunate creatures + from a fire, against the will of your husband, or during his absence? + Well! you must now rescue them, not from a fire that will only consume the + body, but from one in which their souls would burn to all eternity.” + </p> + <p> + “Forgive me, I implore you, father,” said the poor woman, + whose indecision and anguish increased every minute; “satisfy my + doubts!—How can I act thus, when I have sworn obedience to my + husband?” + </p> + <p> + “Obedience for good—yes—but never for evil. You confess, + that, were it left to him, the salvation of these orphans would be + doubtful, and perhaps impossible.” + </p> + <p> + “But, father,” said Frances, trembling, “when my husband + returns, he will ask me where are these children? Must I tell him a + falsehood?” + </p> + <p> + “Silence is not falsehood; you will tell him that you cannot answer + his question.” + </p> + <p> + “My husband is the kindest of men; but such an answer will drive him + almost mad. He has been a soldier, and his anger will be terrible, father,” + said Frances, shuddering at the thought. + </p> + <p> + “And were his anger a hundred times more terrible, you should be + proud to brave it in so sacred a cause!” cried the voice, with + indignation. “Do you think that salvation is to be so easily gained + on earth? Since when does the sinner, that would walk in the way of the + Lord, turn aside for the stones and briars that may bruise and tear him?” + </p> + <p> + “Pardon, father, pardon!” said Frances, with the resignation + of despair. “Permit me to ask one more question, one only. Alas! if + you do not guide me, how shall I find the way?” + </p> + <p> + “Speak!” + </p> + <p> + “When Marshal Simon arrives, he will ask his children of my husband. + What answer can he then give to their father?” + </p> + <p> + “When Marshal Simon arrives, you will let me know immediately, and + then—I will see what is to be done. The rights of a father are only + sacred in so far as he make use of them for the salvation of his children. + Before and above the father on earth, is the Father in heaven, whom we + must first serve. Reflect upon all this. By accepting what I propose to + you, these young girls will be saved from perdition; they will not be at + your charge; they will not partake of your misery; they will be brought up + in a sacred institution, as, after all, the daughters of a Marshal of + France ought to be—and, when their father arrives at Paris, if he be + found worthy of seeing them again, instead of finding poor, ignorant, half + savage heathens, he will behold two girls, pious, modest, and well + informed, who, being acceptable with the Almighty, may invoke His mercy + for their father, who, it must be owned, has great need of it—being + a man of violence, war, and battle. Now decide! Will you, on peril of your + soul, sacrifice the welfare of these girls in this world and the next, + because of an impious dread of your husband’s anger?” + </p> + <p> + Though rude and fettered by intolerance, the confessor’s language + was (taking his view of the case) reasonable and just, because the honest + priest was himself convinced of what he said; a blind instrument of Rodin, + ignorant of the end in view, he believed firmly, that, in forcing Frances + to place these young girls in a convent, he was performing a pious duty. + Such was, and is, one of the most wonderful resources of the order to + which Rodin belonged—to have for accomplices good and sincere + people, who are ignorant of the nature of the plots in which they are the + principal actors. + </p> + <p> + Frances, long accustomed to submit to the influence of her confessor, + could find nothing to object to his last words. She resigned herself to + follow his directions, though she trembled to think of the furious anger + of Dagobert, when he should no longer find the children that a dying + mother had confided to his care. But, according to the priest’s + opinion, the more terrible this anger might appear to her, the more she + would show her pious humility by exposing herself to it. + </p> + <p> + “God’s will be done, father!” said she, in reply to her + confessor. “Whatever may happen, I wilt do my duty as a Christian—in + obedience to your commands.” + </p> + <p> + “And the Lord will reward you for what you may have to suffer in the + accomplishment of this meritorious act. You promise then, before God, that + you will not answer any of your husband’s questions, when he asks + you for the daughters of Marshal Simon?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, father, I promise!” said Frances, with a shudder. + </p> + <p> + “And will preserve the same silence towards Marshal Simon himself, + in case he should return, before his daughters appear to me sufficiently + grounded in the faith to be restored to him?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, father,” said Frances, in a still fainter voice. + </p> + <p> + “You will come and give me an account of the scene that takes place + between you and your husband, upon his return?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, father; when must I bring the orphans to your house?” + </p> + <p> + “In an hour. I will write to the superior, and leave the letter with + my housekeeper. She is a trusty person, and will conduct the young girls + to the convent.” + </p> + <p> + After she had listened to the exhortations of her confessor, and received + absolution for her late sins, on condition of performing penance, Dagobert’s + wife left the confessional. + </p> + <p> + The church was no longer deserted. An immense crowd pressed into it, drawn + thither by the pomp of the grand funeral of which the beadle had spoken to + the sacristan two hours before. It was with the greatest difficulty that + Frances could reach the door of the church, now hung with sumptuous + drapery. + </p> + <p> + What a contrast to the poor and humble train, which had that morning so + timidly presented themselves beneath the porch! + </p> + <p> + The numerous clergy of the parish, in full procession, advanced + majestically to receive the coffin covered with a velvet pall; the watered + silks and stuffs of their copes and stoles, their splendid silvered + embroideries, sparkled in the light of a thousand tapers. The beadle + strutted in all the glory of his brilliant uniform and flashing epaulets; + on the opposite side walked in high glee the sacristan, carrying his + whalebone staff with a magisterial air; the voice of the choristers, now + clad in fresh, white surplices, rolled out in bursts of thunder; the + trumpets’ blare shook the windows; and upon the countenances of all + those who were to have a share in the spoils of this rich corpse, this + excellent corpse, this first-class corpse, a look of satisfaction was + visible, intense and yet subdued, which suited admirably with the air and + attitude of the two heirs, tall, vigorous fellows with florid complexions, + who, without overstepping the limits of a charming modesty of enjoyment, + seemed to cuddle and hug themselves most comfortably in their mourning + cloaks. + </p> + <p> + Notwithstanding her simplicity and pious faith, Dagobert’s wife was + painfully impressed with this revolting difference between the reception + of the rich and the poor man’s coffin at the door of the house of + God—for surely, if equality be ever real, it is in the presence of + death and eternity! + </p> + <p> + The two sad spectacles she had witnessed, tended still further to depress + the spirits of Frances. Having succeeded with no small trouble in making + her way out of the church, she hastened to return to the Rue Brise-Miche, + in order to fetch the orphans and conduct them to the housekeeper of her + confessor, who was in her turn to take them to St. Mary’s Convent, + situated, as we know, next door to Dr. Baleinier’s lunatic-asylum, + in which—Adrienne de Cardoville was confined. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0049" id="link2HCH0049"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XLIX. MY LORD AND SPOIL-SPORT. + </h2> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>he wife of + Dagobert, having quitted the church, arrived at the corner of the Rue + Brise-Miche, when she was accosted by the distributor of holy water; he + came running out of breath, to beg her to return to Saint Mery’s, + where the Abbe Dubois had yet something of importance to say to her. + </p> + <p> + The moment Frances turned to go back, a hackney-coach stopped in front of + the house she inhabited. The coachman quitted his box to open the door. + </p> + <p> + “Driver,” said a stout woman dressed in black, who was seated + in the carriage, and held a pug-dog upon her knees, “ask if Mrs. + Frances Baudoin lives in this house.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, ma’am,” said the coachman. + </p> + <p> + The reader will no doubt have recognized Mrs. Grivois, head waiting-woman + to the Princess de Saint-Dizier, accompanied by My Lord, who exercised a + real tyranny over his mistress. The dyer, whom we have already seen + performing the duties of a porter, being questioned by the coachman as to + the dwelling of Frances, came out of his workshop, and advanced gallantly + to the coach-door, to inform Mrs. Grivois, that Frances Baudoin did in + fact live in the house, but that she was at present from home. + </p> + <p> + The arms, hands, and part of the face of Father Loriot were now of a + superb gold-color. The sight of this yellow personage singularly provoked + My Lord, and at the moment the dyer rested his hand upon the edge of the + coach-window, the cur began to yelp frightfully, and bit him in the wrist. + </p> + <p> + “Oh! gracious heaven!” cried Mrs. Grivois, in an agony, whilst + Father Loriot, withdrew his hand with precipitation; “I hope there + is nothing poisonous in the dye that you have about you—my dog is so + delicate!” + </p> + <p> + So saying, she carefully wiped the pug-nose, spotted with yellow. Father + Loriot, not at all satisfied with this speech, when he had expected to + receive some apology from Mrs. Grivois on account of her dog’s + behavior, said to her, as with difficulty he restrained his anger: “If + you did not belong to the fair sex, which obliges me to respect you in the + person of that wretched animal I would have the pleasure of taking him by + the tail, and making him in one minute a dog of the brightest orange + color, by plunging him into my cauldron, which is already on the fire.” + </p> + <p> + “Dye my pet yellow!” cried Mrs. Grivois, in great wrath, as + she descended from the hackney-coach, clasping My Lord tenderly to her + bosom, and surveying Father Loriot with a savage look. + </p> + <p> + “I told you, Mrs. Baudoin is not at home,” said the dyer, as + he saw the pug-dog’s mistress advance in the direction of the dark + staircase. + </p> + <p> + “Never mind; I will wait for her,” said Mrs. Grivois tartly. + “On which story does she live?” + </p> + <p> + “Up four pair!” answered Father Loriot, returning abruptly to + his shop. And he added to himself, with a chuckle at the anticipation: + “I hope Father Dagobert’s big prowler will be in a bad humor, + and give that villainous pug a shaking by the skin of his neck.” + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:65%;"> + <img src="images/20117m.jpg" alt="20117m” width=" /><br /> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/20117.jpg"><i>Original</i></a> + </h5> + <p> + Mrs. Grivois mounted the steep staircase with some difficulty, stopping at + every landing-place to take breath, and looking about her with profound + disgust. At length she reached the fourth story, and paused an instant at + the door of the humble chamber, in which the two sisters and Mother Bunch + then were. + </p> + <p> + The young sempstress was occupied in collecting the different articles + that she was about to carry to the pawnbroker’s. Rose and Blanche + seemed happier, and somewhat less uneasy about the future; for they had + learned from Mother Bunch, that, when they knew how to sew, they might + between them earn eight francs a week, which would at least afford some + assistance to the family. + </p> + <p> + The presence of Mrs. Grivois in Baudoin’s dwelling was occasioned by + a new resolution of Abbe d’Aigrigny and the Princess de + Saint-Dizier; they had thought it more prudent to send Mrs. Grivois, on + whom they could blindly depend, to fetch the young girls, and the + confessor was charged to inform Frances that it was not to his + housekeeper, but to a lady that would call on her with a note from him, + that she was to deliver the orphans, to be taken to a religious + establishment. + </p> + <p> + Having knocked at the door, the waiting-woman of the Princess de Saint + Dizier entered the room, and asked for Frances Baudoin. + </p> + <p> + “She is not at home, madame,” said Mother Bunch timidly, not a + little astonished at so unexpected a visit, and casting down her eyes + before the gaze of this woman. + </p> + <p> + “Then I will wait for her, as I have important affairs to speak of,” + answered Mrs. Grivois, examining with curiosity and attention the faces of + the two orphans, who also cast down their eyes with an air of confusion. + </p> + <p> + So saying, Madame Grivois sat down, not without some repugnance, in the + old arm-chair of Dagobert’s wife, and believing that she might now + leave her favorite at liberty, she laid him carefully on the floor. + Immediately, a low growl, deep and hollow, sounding from behind the + armchair, made Mrs. Grivois jump from her seat, and sent the pug-dog, + yelping with affright, and trembling through his fat, to take refuge close + to his mistress, with all the symptoms of angry alarm. + </p> + <p> + “What! is there a dog here?” cried Mrs. Grivois, stooping + precipitately to catch up My Lord, whilst, as if he wished himself to + answer the question, Spoil-sport rose leisurely from his place behind the + arm-chair, and appeared suddenly, yawning and stretching himself. + </p> + <p> + At sight of this powerful animal, with his double row of formidable + pointed fangs, which he seemed to take delight in displaying as he opened + his large jaws, Mrs. Grivois could not help giving utterance to a cry of + terror. The snappish pug had at first trembled in all his limbs at the + Siberian’s approach; but, finding himself in safety on the lap of + his mistress, he began to growl insolently, and to throw the most + provoking glances at Spoil-sport. These the worthy companion of the + deceased Jovial answered disdainfully by gaping anew; after which he went + smelling round Mrs. Grivois with a sort of uneasiness, turned his back + upon My Lord, and stretched himself at the feet of Rose and Blanche, + keeping his large, intelligent eyes fixed upon them, as if he foresaw that + they were menaced with some danger. + </p> + <p> + “Turn out that beast,” said Mrs. Grivois, imperiously; “he + frightens my dog, and may do him some harm.” + </p> + <p> + “Do not be afraid, madame,” replied Rose, with a smile; + “Spoil-sport will do no harm, if he is not attacked.” + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:65%;"> + <img src="images/10473m.jpg" alt="10473m " width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/10473.jpg"><i>Original</i></a> + </h5> + <p> + “Never mind!” cried Mrs. Grivois; “an accident soon + happens. The very sight of that enormous dog, with his wolf’s head + and terrible teeth, is enough to make one tremble at the injuries he might + do one. I tell you to turn him out.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Grivois had pronounced these last words in a tone of irritation, + which did not sound at all satisfactory in Spoil-sport’s ears; so he + growled and showed his teeth, turning his head in the direction of the + stranger. + </p> + <p> + “Be quiet, Spoilsport!” said Blanche sternly. + </p> + <p> + A new personage here entered the room, and put an end to this situation, + which was embarrassing enough for the two young girls. It was a + commissionaire, with a letter in his hand. + </p> + <p> + “What is it, sir?” asked Mother Bunch. + </p> + <p> + “A very pressing letter from the good man of the house; the dyer + below stairs told me to bring it up here.” + </p> + <p> + “A letter from Dagobert!” cried Rose and Blanche, with a + lively expression of pleasure. “He is returned then? where is he?” + </p> + <p> + “I do not know whether the good man is called Dagobert or not,” + said the porter; “but he is an old trooper, with a gray moustache, + and may be found close by, at the office of the Chartres coaches.” + </p> + <p> + “That is he!” cried Blanche. “Give me the letter.” + </p> + <p> + The porter handed it to the young girl, who opened it in all haste. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Grivois was struck dumb with dismay; she knew that Dagobert had been + decoyed from Paris, that the Abbe Dubois might have an opportunity to act + with safety upon Frances. Hitherto, all had succeeded; the good woman had + consented to place the young girls in the hands of a religious community—and + now arrives this soldier, who was thought to be absent from Paris for two + or three days at least, and whose sudden return might easily ruin this + laborious machination, at the moment when it seemed to promise success. + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” said Blanche, when she had read the letter. “What + a misfortune!” + </p> + <p> + “What is it, then, sister?” cried Rose. + </p> + <p> + “Yesterday, half way to Chartres, Dagobert perceived that he had + lost his purse. He was unable to continue his journey; he took a place + upon credit, to return, and he asks his wife to send him some money to the + office, to pay what he owes.” + </p> + <p> + “That’s it,” said the porter; “for the good man + told me to make haste, because he was there in pledge.” + </p> + <p> + “And nothing in the house!” cried Blanche. “Dear me! + what is to be done?” + </p> + <p> + At these words, Mrs. Grivois felt her hopes revive for a moment, they were + soon, however, dispelled by Mother Bunch, who exclaimed, as she pointed to + the parcel she had just made up: “Be satisfied, dear young ladies! + here is a resource. The pawnbroker’s, to which I am going, is not + far off, and I will take the money direct to M. Dagobert: in half an hour, + at latest, he will be here.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, my dear friend! you are right,” said Rose. “How + good you are! you think of everything.” + </p> + <p> + “And here,” said Blanche, “is the letter, with the + address upon it. Take that with you.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you,” answered Mother Bunch: then, addressing the + porter, she added: “Return to the person who sent you, and tell him + I shall be at the coach-office very shortly.” + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:65%;"> + <img src="images/10481m.jpg" alt="10481m " width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/10481.jpg"><i>Original</i></a> + </h5> + <p> + “Infernal hunchback!” thought Mrs. Grivois, with suppressed + rage, “she thinks of everything. Without her, we should have escaped + the plague of this man’s return. What is to be done now? The girls + would not go with me, before the arrival of the soldier’s wife; to + propose it to them would expose me to a refusal, and might compromise all. + Once more, what is to be done?” + </p> + <p> + “Do not be uneasy, ladies,” said the porter as he went out; + “I will go and assure the good man, that he will not have to remain + long in pledge.” + </p> + <p> + Whilst Mother Bunch was occupied in tying her parcel, in which she had + placed the silver cup, fork, and spoon, Mrs. Grivois seemed to reflect + deeply. Suddenly she started. Her countenance, which had been for some + moments expressive of anxiety and rage, brightened up on the instant. She + rose, still holding My Lord in her arms, and said to the young girls: + “As Mrs. Baudoin does not come in, I am going to pay a visit in the + neighborhood, and will return immediately. Pray tell her so!” + </p> + <p> + With these words Mr. Grivois took her departure, a few minutes before + Mother Bunch left. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0050" id="link2HCH0050"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER L. APPEARANCES. + </h2> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">A</span>fter she had again + endeavored to cheer up the orphans, the sewing-girl descended the stairs, + not without difficulty, for, in addition to the parcel, which was already + heavy, she had fetched down from her own room the only blanket she + possessed—thus leaving herself without protection from the cold of + her icy garret. + </p> + <p> + The evening before, tortured with anxiety as to Agricola’s fate, the + girl had been unable to work; the miseries of expectation and hope delayed + had prevented her from doing so; now another day would be lost, and yet it + was necessary to live. Those overwhelming sorrows, which deprive the poor + of the faculty of labor, are doubly dreaded; they paralyze the strength, + and, with that forced cessation from toil, want and destitution are often + added to grief. + </p> + <p> + But Mother Bunch, that complete incarnation of holiest duty, had yet + strength enough to devote herself for the service of others. Some of the + most frail and feeble creatures are endowed with extraordinary vigor of + soul; it would seem as if, in these weak, infirm organizations, the spirit + reigned absolutely over the body, and knew how to inspire it with a + factitious energy. + </p> + <p> + Thus, for the last twenty-four hours, Mother Bunch had neither slept nor + eaten; she had suffered from the cold, through the whole of a frosty + night. In the morning she had endured great fatigue, in going, amid rain + and snow, to the Rue de Babylone and back, twice crossing Paris and yet + her strength was not exhausted—so immense is the power of the human + heart! + </p> + <p> + She had just arrived at the corner of the Rue Saint Mery. Since the recent + Rue des Prouvaires conspiracy, there were stationed in this populous + quarter of the town a much larger number of police-officers than usual. + Now the young sempstress, though bending beneath the weight of her parcel, + had quickened her pace almost to a run, when, just as she passed in front + of one of the police, two five-franc pieces fell on the ground behind her, + thrown there by a stout woman in black, who followed her closely. + </p> + <p> + Immediately after the stout woman pointed out the two pieces to the + policeman, and said something hastily to him with regard to Mother Bunch. + Then she withdrew at all speed in the direction of the Rue Brise-Miche. + </p> + <p> + The policeman, struck with what Mrs. Grivois had said to him ( for it was + that person), picked up the money, and, running after the humpback, cried + out to her: “Hi, there! young woman, I say—stop! stop!” + </p> + <p> + On this outcry, several persons turned round suddenly and, as always + happens in those quarters of the town, a nucleus of five or six persons + soon grew to a considerable crowd. + </p> + <p> + Not knowing that the policeman was calling to her, Mother Bunch only + quickened her speed, wishing to get to the pawnbroker’s as soon as + possible, and trying to avoid touching any of the passers-by, so much did + she dread the brutal and cruel railleries, to which her infirmity so often + exposed her. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly, she heard many persons running after her, and at the same + instant a hand was laid rudely on her shoulder. It was the policeman, + followed by another officer, who had been drawn to the spot by the noise. + Mother Bunch turned round, struck with as much surprise as fear. + </p> + <p> + She found herself in the centre of a crowd, composed chiefly of that + hideous scum, idle and in rags, insolent and malicious, besotted with + ignorance, brutalized by want, and always loafing about the corners. + Workmen are scarcely ever met with in these mobs, for they are for the + most part engaged in their daily labors. + </p> + <p> + “Come, can’t you hear? you are deaf as Punch’s dog,” + said the policeman, seizing Mother Bunch so rudely by the arm, that she + let her parcel fall at her feet. + </p> + <p> + When the unfortunate girl, looking round in terror, saw herself exposed to + all those insolent, mocking, malicious glances, when she beheld the + cynical and coarse grimace on so many ignoble and filthy countenances, she + trembled in all her limbs, and became fearfully pale. No doubt the + policeman had spoken roughly to her; but how could he speak otherwise to a + poor deformed girl, pale and trembling, with her features agitated by + grief and fear—to a wretched creature, miserably clad, who wore in + winter a thin cotton gown, soiled with mud, and wet with melted snow—for + the poor sempstress had walked much and far that morning. So the policeman + resumed, with great severity, following that supreme law of appearances + which makes poverty always suspected: “Stop a bit, young woman! it + seems you are in a mighty hurry, to let your money fall without picking it + up.” + </p> + <p> + “Was her blunt hid in her hump?” said the hoarse voice of a + match-boy, a hideous and repulsive specimen of precocious depravity. + </p> + <p> + This sally was received with laughter, shouts, and hooting, which served + to complete the sewing-girl’s dismay and terror. She was hardly able + to answer, in a feeble voice, as the policeman handed her the two pieces + of silver: “This money, sir, is not mine.” + </p> + <p> + “You lie,” said the other officer, approaching; “a + respectable lady saw it drop from your pocket.” + </p> + <p> + “I assure you, sir, it is not so,” answered Mother Bunch, + trembling. + </p> + <p> + “I tell you that you lie,” resumed the officer; “for the + lady, struck with your guilty and frightened air, said to me: ‘Look + at yonder little hunchback, running away with that large parcel, and + letting her money fall without even stopping to pick it up—it is not + natural.’” + </p> + <p> + “Bobby,” resumed the match-vendor in his hoarse voice, “be + on your guard! Feel her hump, for that is her luggage-van. I’m sure + that you’ll find boots, and cloaks, and umbrellas, and clocks in it—for + I just heard the hour strike in the bend of her back.” + </p> + <p> + Then came fresh bursts of laughter and shouts and hooting, for this + horrible mob has no pity for those who implore and suffer. The crowd + increased more and more, and now they indulged in hoarse cries, piercing + whistles, and all kinds of horse play. + </p> + <p> + “Let a fellow see her; it’s free gratis.” + </p> + <p> + “Don’t push so; I’ve paid for my place!” + </p> + <p> + “Make her stand up on something, that all may have a look.” + </p> + <p> + “My corns are being ground: it was not worth coming.” + </p> + <p> + “Show her properly—or return the money.” + </p> + <p> + “That’s fair, ain’t it?” + </p> + <p> + “Give it us in the ‘garden’ style.” + </p> + <p> + “Trot her out in all her paces! Kim up!” + </p> + <p> + Fancy the feelings of this unfortunate creature, with her delicate mind, + good heart, and lofty soul, and yet with so timid and nervous a character, + as she stood alone with the two policemen in the thick of the crowd, and + was forced to listen to all these coarse and savage insults. + </p> + <p> + But the young sempstress did not yet understand of what crime she was + accused. She soon discovered it, however, for the policeman, seizing the + parcel which she had picked up and now held in her trembling hands, said + to her rudely: “What is there in that bundle?” + </p> + <p> + “Sir—it is—I am going—” The unfortunate girl + hesitated—unable, in her terror, to find the word. + </p> + <p> + “If that’s all you have to answer,” said the policeman, + “it’s no great shakes. Come, make haste! turn your bundle + inside out.” + </p> + <p> + So saying, the policeman snatched the parcel from her, half opened it, and + repeated, as he enumerated the divers articles it contained: “The + devil!—sheets—a spoon and fork—a silver mug—a + shawl—a blanket—you’re a downy mot! it was not so bad a + move. Dressed like a beggar, and with silver plate about you. Oh, yes! you’re + a deep ‘un.” + </p> + <p> + “Those articles do not belong to you,” said the other officer. + </p> + <p> + “No, sir,” replied Mother Bunch, whose strength was failing + her; “but—” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, vile hunchback! you have stolen more than you are big!” + </p> + <p> + “Stolen!” cried Mother Bunch, clasping her hands in horror, + for she now understood it all. “Stolen!” + </p> + <p> + “The guard! make way for the lobsters!” cried several persons + at once. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, ho! here’s the lobsters!” + </p> + <p> + “The fire-eaters!” + </p> + <p> + “The Arab devourers!” + </p> + <p> + “Come for their dromedary!” + </p> + <p> + In the midst of these noisy jests, two soldiers and a corporal advanced + with much difficulty. Their bayonets and the barrels of their guns were + alone visible above the heads of this hideous and compact crowd. Some + officious person had been to inform the officer at the nearest guard + house, that a considerable crowd obstructed the public way. + </p> + <p> + “Come, here is the guard—so march to the guard-house!” + said the policeman, taking Mother Bunch by the arm. + </p> + <p> + “Sir,” said the poor girl, in a voice stifled by sobs, + clasping her hands in terror, and sinking upon her knees on the pavement; + “sir,—have pity—let me explain—” + </p> + <p> + “You will explain at the guard-house; so come on!” + </p> + <p> + “But, sir—I am not a thief,” cried Mother Bunch, in a + heart-rending tone; “have pity upon me—do not take me away + like a thief, before all this crowd. Oh! mercy! mercy!” + </p> + <p> + “I tell you, there will be time to explain at the guard-house. The + street is blocked up; so come along!” Grasping the unfortunate + creature by both her hands, he set her, as it were, on her feet again. + </p> + <p> + At this instant, the corporal and his two soldiers, having succeeded in + making their way through the crowd, approached the policeman. “Corporal,” + said the latter, “take this girl to the guard-house. I am an officer + of the police.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, gentlemen!” cried the girl, weeping hot tears, and + wringing her hands, “do not take me away, before you let me explain + myself. I am not a thief—indeed, indeed, I am not a thief! I will + tell you—it was to render service to others—only let me tell + you—” + </p> + <p> + “I tell you, you should give your explanations at the guard-house; + if you will not walk, we must drag you along,” said the policeman. + </p> + <p> + We must renounce the attempt to paint this scene, at once ignoble and + terrible. + </p> + <p> + Weak, overpowered, filled with alarm, the unfortunate girl was dragged + along by the soldiers, her knees sinking under her at every step. The two + police-officers had each to lend an arm to support her, and mechanically + she accepted their assistance. Then the vociferations and hootings burst + forth with redoubled fury. Half-swooning between the two men, the hapless + creature seemed to drain the cup of bitterness to the dregs. + </p> + <p> + Beneath that foggy sky, in that dirty street, under the shadow of the tall + black houses, those hideous masses of people reminded one of the wildest + fancies of Callot and of Goya: children in rags, drunken women, grim and + blighted figures of men, rushed against each other, pushed, fought, + struggled, to follow with howls and hisses an almost inanimate victim—the + victim of a deplorable mistake. + </p> + <p> + Of a mistake! How one shudders to think, that such arrests may often take + place, founded upon nothing but the suspicion caused by the appearance of + misery, or by some inaccurate description. Can we forget the case of that + young girl, who, wrongfully accused of participating in a shameful + traffic, found means to escape from the persons who were leading her to + prison, and, rushing up the stairs of a house, threw herself from a + window, in her despair, and was crushed to death upon the paving-stones? + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile, after the abominable denunciation of which Mother Bunch was the + victim, Mrs. Grivois had returned precipitately to the Rue Brise Miche. + She ascended in haste to the fourth story, opened the door of Frances + Baudoin’s room, and saw—Dagobert in company with his wife and + the two orphans! + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0051" id="link2HCH0051"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER LI. THE CONVENT. + </h2> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">L</span>et us explain in a + few words the presence of Dagobert. His countenance was impressed with + such an air of military frankness that the manager of the coach-office + would have been satisfied with his promise to return and pay the money; + but the soldier had obstinately insisted on remaining in pledge, as he + called it, till his wife had answered his letter. When, however, on the + return of the porter, he found that the money was coming, his scruples + were satisfied, and he hastened to run home. + </p> + <p> + We may imagine the stupor of Mrs. Grivois, when, upon entering the + chamber, she perceived Dagobert (whom she easily recognized by the + description she had heard of him) seated beside his wife and the orphans. + The anxiety of Frances at sight of Mrs. Grivois was equally striking. Rose + and Blanche had told her of the visit of a lady, during her absence, upon + important business; and, judging by the information received from her + confessor, Frances had no doubt that this was the person charged to + conduct the orphans to a religious establishment. + </p> + <p> + Her anxiety was terrible. Resolved to follow the counsels of Abbe Dubois, + she dreaded lest a word from Mrs. Grivois should put Dagobert on the scent—in + which case all would be lost, and the orphans would remain in their + present state of ignorance and mortal sin, for which she believed herself + responsible. + </p> + <p> + Dagobert, who held the hands of Rose and Blanche, left his seat as the + Princess de Saint-Dizier’s waiting-woman entered the room and cast + an inquiring glance on Frances. + </p> + <p> + The moment was critical—nay, decisive; but Mrs. Grivois had profited + by the example of the Princess de Saint-Dizier. So, taking her resolution + at once, and turning to account the precipitation with which she had + mounted the stairs, after the odious charge she had brought against poor + Mother Bunch, and even the emotion caused by the unexpected sight of + Dagobert, which gave to her features an expression of uneasiness and alarm—she + exclaimed, in an agitated voice, after the moment’s silence + necessary to collect her thoughts: “Oh, madame! I have just been the + spectator of a great misfortune. Excuse my agitation! but I am so excited—” + </p> + <p> + “Dear me! what is the matter?” said Frances, in a trembling + voice, for she dreaded every moment some indiscretion on the part of Mrs. + Grivois. + </p> + <p> + “I called just now,” resumed the other, “to speak to you + on some important business; whilst I was waiting for you, a poor young + woman, rather deformed, put up sundry articles in a parcel—” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Frances; “it was Mother Bunch, an excellent, + worthy creature.” + </p> + <p> + “I thought as much, madame; well, you shall hear what has happened. + As you did not come in, I resolved to pay a visit in the neighborhood. I + go out, and get as far as the Rue St. Mery, when—Oh, madame!” + </p> + <p> + “Well?” said Dagobert, “what then?” + </p> + <p> + “I see a crowd—I inquire what is the matter—I learn that + a policeman has just arrested a young girl as a thief, because she had + been seen carrying a bundle, composed of different articles which did not + appear to belong to her—I approached—what do I behold?—the + same young woman that I had met just before in this room.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! the poor child!” exclaimed Frances, growing pale, and + clasping her hands together. “What a dreadful thing!” + </p> + <p> + “Explain, then,” said Dagobert to his wife. “What was in + this bundle?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, my dear—to confess the truth—I was a little + short, and I asked our poor friend to take some things for me to the + pawnbroker’s—” + </p> + <p> + “What! and they thought she had robbed us!” cried Dagobert; + “she, the most honest girl in the world! it is dreadful—you + ought to have interfered, madame; you ought to have said that you knew + her.” + </p> + <p> + “I tried to do so, sir; but, unfortunately, they would not hear me. + The crowd increased every moment, till the guard came up, and carried her + off.” + </p> + <p> + “She might die of it, she is so sensitive and timid!” + exclaimed Frances. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, good Mother Bunch! so gentle! so considerate!” said + Blanche, turning with tearful eyes towards her sister. + </p> + <p> + “Not being able to help her,” resumed Mrs. Grivois “I + hastened hither to inform you of this misadventure—which may, + indeed, easily be repaired—as it will only be necessary to go and + claim the young girl as soon as possible.” + </p> + <p> + At these words, Dagobert hastily seized his hat, and said abruptly to Mrs. + Grivois: “Zounds, madame! you should have begun by telling us that. + Where is the poor child? Do you know?” + </p> + <p> + “I do not, sir; but there are still so many excited people in the + street that, if you will have the kindness to step out, you will be sure + to learn.” + </p> + <p> + “Why the devil do you talk of kindness? It is my duty, madame. Poor + child!” repeated Dagobert. “Taken up as a thief!—it is + really horrible. I will go to the guard-house, and to the commissary of + police for this neighborhood, and, by hook or crook, I will find her, and + have her out, and bring her home with me.” + </p> + <p> + So saying, Dagobert hastily departed. Frances, now that she felt more + tranquil as to the fate of Mother Bunch, thanked the Lord that this + circumstance had obliged her husband to go out, for his presence at this + juncture caused her a terrible embarrassment. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Grivois had left My Lord in the coach below, for the moments were + precious. Casting a significant glance at Frances she handed her Abbe + Dubois’ letter, and said to her, with strong emphasis on every word: + “You will see by this letter, madame, what was the object of my + visit, which I have not before been able to explain to you, but on which I + truly congratulate myself, as it brings me into connection with these two + charming young ladies.” Rose and Blanche looked at each other in + surprise. Frances took the letter with a trembling hand. It required all + the pressing and threatening injunctions of her confessor to conquer the + last scruples of the poor woman, for she shuddered at the thought of + Dagobert’s terrible indignation. Moreover, in her simplicity, she + knew not how to announce to the young girls that they were to accompany + this lady. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Grivois guessed her embarrassment, made a sign to her to be at her + ease, and said to Rose, whilst Frances was reading the letter of her + confessor: “How happy your relation will be to see you, my dear + young lady!’ + </p> + <p> + “Our relation, madame?” said Rose, more and more astonished. + </p> + <p> + “Certainly. She knew of your arrival here, but, as she is still + suffering from the effects of a long illness, she was not able to come + herself to-day, and has sent me to fetch you to her. Unfortunately,” + added Mrs. Grivois, perceiving a movement of uneasiness on the part of the + two sisters, “it will not be in her power, as she tells Mrs. Baudoin + in her letter, to see you for more than a very short time—so you may + be back here in about an hour. But to-morrow or the next day after, she + will be well enough to leave home, and then she will come and make + arrangements with Mrs. Baudoin and her husband, to take you into her house—for + she could not bear to leave you at the charge of the worthy people who + have been so kind to you.” + </p> + <p> + These last words of Mrs. Grivois made a favorable impression upon the two + sisters, and banished their fears of becoming a heavy burden to Dagobert’s + family. If it had been proposed to them to quit altogether the house in + the Rue Bris-Miche, without first asking the consent of their old friend, + they would certainly have hesitated; but Mrs. Grivois had only spoken of + an hour’s visit. They felt no suspicion, therefore, and Rose said to + Frances: “We may go and see our relation, I suppose, madame, without + waiting for Dagobert’s return?” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly,” said Frances, in a feeble voice, “since you + are to be back almost directly.” + </p> + <p> + “Then, madame, I would beg these dear young ladies to come with me + as soon as possible, as I should like to bring them back before noon. + </p> + <p> + “We are ready, madame,” said Rose. + </p> + <p> + “Well then, young ladies, embrace your second mother, and come,” + said Mrs. Grivois, who was hardly able to control her uneasiness, for she + trembled lest Dagobert should return from one moment to the other. + </p> + <p> + Rose and Blanche embraced Frances, who, clasping in her arms the two + charming and innocent creatures that she was about to deliver up, could + with difficulty restrain her tears, though she was fully convinced that + she was acting for their salvation. + </p> + <p> + “Come, young ladies,” said Mrs. Grivois, in the most affable + tone, “let us make haste—you will excuse my impatience, I am + sure—but it is in the name of your relation that I speak.” + </p> + <p> + Having once more tenderly kissed the wife of Dagobert, the sisters quitted + the room hand in hand, and descended the staircase close behind Mrs. + Grivois, followed (without their being aware of it), by Spoil-sport. The + intelligent animal cautiously watched their movements, for, in the absence + of his master, he never let them out of his sight. + </p> + <p> + For greater security, no doubt, the waiting-woman of Madame de Saint + Dizier had ordered the hackney-coach to wait for her at a little distance + from the Rue Brise-Miche, in the cloister square. In a few seconds, the + orphans and their conductress reached the carriage. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, missus!” said the coachman, opening the door; “no + offence, I hope—but you have the most ill-tempered rascal of a dog! + Since you put him into my coach, he has never ceased howling like a + roasted cat, and looks as if he would eat us all up alive!” In fact, + My Lord, who detested solitude, was yelling in the most deplorable manner. + </p> + <p> + “Be quiet, My Lord! here I am,” said Mrs. Grivois; then + addressing the two sisters, she added: “Pray, get in, my dear young + ladies.” + </p> + <p> + Rose and Blanche got into the coach. Before she followed them, Mrs. + Grivois was giving to the coachman in a low voice the direction to St. + Mary’s Convent, and was adding other instructions, when suddenly the + pug dog, who had growled savagely when the sisters took their seats in the + coach, began to bark with fury. The cause of this anger was clear enough; + Spoil-sport, until now unperceived, had with one bound entered the + carriage. + </p> + <p> + The pug, exasperated by this boldness, forgetting his ordinary prudence, + and excited to the utmost by rage and ugliness of temper, sprang at his + muzzle, and bit him so cruelly, that, in his turn, the brave Siberian dog, + maddened by the pain, threw himself upon the teaser, seized him by the + throat, and fairly strangled him with two grips of his powerful jaws—as + appeared by one stifled groan of the pug, previously half suffocated with + fat. + </p> + <p> + All this took place in less time than is occupied by the description. Rose + and Blanche had hardly opportunity to exclaim twice: “Here, Spoil + sport! down!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, good gracious!” said Mrs. Grivois, turning round at the + noise. “There again is that monster of a dog—he will certainly + hurt my love. Send him away, young ladies—make him get down—it + is impossible to take him with us.” + </p> + <p> + Ignorant of the degree of Spoil-sport’s criminality, for his paltry + foe was stretched lifeless under a seat, the young girls yet felt that it + would be improper to take the dog with them, and they therefore said to + him in an angry tone, at the same time slightly touching him with their + feet: “Get down, Spoil-sport! go away!” + </p> + <p> + The faithful animal hesitated at first to obey this order. Sad and + supplicatingly looked he at the orphans, and with an air of mild reproach, + as if blaming them for sending away their only defender. But, upon the + stern repetition of the command, he got down from the coach, with his tail + between his legs, feeling perhaps that he had been somewhat over-hasty + with regard to the pug. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Grivois, who was in a great hurry to leave that quarter of the town, + seated herself with precipitation in the carriage; the coachman closed the + door, and mounted his box; and then the coach started at a rapid rate, + whilst Mrs. Grivois prudently let down the blinds, for fear of meeting + Dagobert by the way. + </p> + <p> + Having taken these indispensable precautions, she was able to turn her + attention to her pet, whom she loved with all that deep, exaggerated + affection, which people of a bad disposition sometimes entertain for + animals, as if then concentrated and lavished upon them all those feelings + in which they are deficient with regard to their fellow creatures. In a + word. Mrs. Grivois was passionately attached to this peevish, cowardly, + spiteful dog, partly perhaps from a secret sympathy with his vices. This + attachment had lasted for six years, and only seemed to increase as My + Lord advanced in age. + </p> + <p> + We have laid some stress on this apparently puerile detail, because the + most trifling causes have often disastrous effects, and because we wish + the reader to understand what must have been the despair, fury, and + exasperation of this woman, when she discovered the death of her dog—a + despair, a fury, and an exasperation, of which the orphans might yet feel + the cruel consequences. + </p> + <p> + The hackney-coach had proceeded rapidly for some seconds, when Mrs. + Grivois, who was seated with her back to the horses, called My Lord. The + dog had very good reasons for not replying. + </p> + <p> + “Well, you sulky beauty!” said Mrs. Grivois, soothingly; + “you have taken offence, have you? It was not my fault if that great + ugly dog came into the coach, was it, young ladies? Come and kiss your + mistress, and let us make peace, old obstinate!” + </p> + <p> + The same obstinate silence continued on the part of the canine noble. Rose + and Blanche began to look anxiously at each other, for they knew that + Spoil-sport was somewhat rough in his ways, though they were far from + suspecting what had really happened. But Mrs. Grivois, rather surprised + than uneasy at her pug-log’s insensibility to her affectionate + appeals, and believing him to be sullenly crouching beneath the seat, + stooped clown to take him up, and feeling one of his paws, drew it + impatiently towards her whilst she said to him in a half-jesting, half + angry tone: “Come, naughty fellow! you will give a pretty notion of + your temper to these young ladies.” + </p> + <p> + So saying, she took up the dog, much astonished at his unresisting torpor; + but what was her fright, when, having placed him upon her lap, she saw + that he was quite motionless. + </p> + <p> + “An apoplexy!” cried she. “The dear creature ate too + much—I was always afraid of it.” + </p> + <p> + Turning round hastily, she exclaimed: “Stop, coachman! stop!” + without reflecting that the coachman could not hear her. Then raising the + cur’s head, still thinking that he was only in a fit, she perceived + with horror the bloody holes imprinted by five or six sharp fangs, which + left no doubt of the cause of his deplorable end. + </p> + <p> + Her first impulse was one of grief and despair. “Dead!” she + exclaimed; “dead! and already cold! Oh, goodness!” And this + woman burst into tears. + </p> + <p> + The tears of the wicked are ominous. For a bad man to weep, he must have + suffered much; and, with him, the reaction of suffering, instead of + softening the soul, inflames it to a dangerous anger. + </p> + <p> + Thus, after yielding to that first painful emotion, the mistress of My + Lord felt herself transported with rage and hate—yes, hate—violent + hate for the young girls, who had been the involuntary cause of the dog’s + death. Her countenance so plainly betrayed her resentment, that Blanche + and Rose were frightened at the expression of her face, which had now + grown purple with fury, as with agitated voice and wrathful glance she + exclaimed: “It was your dog that killed him!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, madame!” said Rose; “we had nothing to do with it.” + </p> + <p> + “It was your dog that bit Spoil-sport first,” added Blanche, + in a plaintive voice. + </p> + <p> + The look of terror impressed on the features of the orphans recalled Mrs. + Grivois to herself. She saw the fatal consequences that might arise from + yielding imprudently to her anger. For the very sake of vengeance, she had + to restrain herself, in order not to awaken suspicion in the minds of + Marshal Simon’s daughters. But not to appear to recover too soon + from her first impression, she continued for some minutes to cast + irritated glances at the young girls; then, little by little, her anger + seemed to give way to violent grief; she covered her face with her hands, + heaved a long sigh, and appeared to weep bitterly. + </p> + <p> + “Poor lady!” whispered Rose to Blanche. “How she weeps!—No + doubt, she loved her dog as much as we love Spoil-sport.” + </p> + <p> + “Alas! yes,” replied Blanche. “We also wept when our old + Jovial was killed.” + </p> + <p> + After a few minutes, Mrs. Grivois raised her head, dried her eyes + definitively, and said in a gentle, and almost affectionate voice: “Forgive + me, young ladies! I was unable to repress the first movement of + irritation, or rather of deep sorrow—for I was tenderly attached to + this poor dog he has never left me for six years.” + </p> + <p> + “We are very sorry for this misfortune, madame,” resumed Rose; + “and we regret it the more, that it seems to be irreparable.” + </p> + <p> + “I was just saying to my sister, that we can the better fancy your + grief, as we have had to mourn the death of our old horse, that carried us + all the way from Siberia.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, my dear young ladies, let us think no more about it. It was + my fault; I should not have brought him with me; but he was always so + miserable, whenever I left him. You will make allowance for my weakness. A + good heart feels for animals as well as people; so I must trust to your + sensibility to excuse my hastiness.” + </p> + <p> + “Do not think of it, madame; it is only your grief that afflicts us.” + </p> + <p> + “I shall get over it, my dear young ladies—I shall get over + it. The joy of the meeting between you and your relation will help to + console me. She will be so happy. You are so charming! and then the + singular circumstance of your exact likeness to each other adds to the + interest you inspire.” + </p> + <p> + “You are too kind to us, madame.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no—I am sure you resemble each other as much in + disposition as in face.” + </p> + <p> + “That is quite natural, madame,” said Rose, “for since + our birth we have never left each other a minute, whether by night or day. + It would be strange, if we were not like in character.” + </p> + <p> + “Really, my dear young ladies! you have never left each other a + minute?” + </p> + <p> + “Never, madame.” The sisters joined hands with an expressive + smile. + </p> + <p> + “Then, how unhappy you would be, and how much to be pitied, if ever + you were separated.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, madame! it is impossible,” said Blanche, smiling. + </p> + <p> + “How impossible?” + </p> + <p> + “Who would have the heart to separate us?” + </p> + <p> + “No doubt, my dear young ladies, it would be very cruel.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, madame,” resumed Blanche, “even very wicked people + would not think of separating us.” + </p> + <p> + “So much the better, my dear young ladies—pray, why?” + </p> + <p> + “Because it would cause us too much grief.” + </p> + <p> + “Because it would kill us.” + </p> + <p> + “Poor little dears!” + </p> + <p> + “Three months ago, we were shut up in prison. Well when the governor + of the prison saw us, though he looked a very stern man, he could not help + saying: ‘It would be killing these children to separate them;’ + and so we remained together, and were as happy as one can be in prison.” + </p> + <p> + “It shows your excellent heart, and also that of the persons who + knew how to appreciate it.” + </p> + <p> + The carriage stopped, and they heard the coachman call out “Any one + at the gate there?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! here we are at your relation’s,” said Mrs. Grivois. + Two wings of a gate flew open, and the carriage rolled over the gravel of + a court-yard. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Grivois having drawn up one of the blinds, they found themselves in a + vast court, across the centre of which ran a high wall, with a kind of + porch upon columns, under which was a little door. Behind this wall, they + could see the upper part of a very large building in freestone. Compared + with the house in the Rue Brise-Miche, this building appeared a palace; so + Blanche said to Mrs. Grivois, with an expression of artless admiration: + “Dear me, madame, what a fine residence!” + </p> + <p> + “That is nothing,” replied Madame Grivois; “wait till + you see the interior, which is much finer.” + </p> + <p> + When the coachman opened the door of the carriage, what was the rage of + Mrs. Grivois, and the surprise of the girls, to see Spoil-sport, who had + been clever enough to follow the coach. Pricking up his ears, and wagging + his tail, he seemed to have forgotten his late offences, and to expect to + be praised for his intelligent fidelity. + </p> + <p> + “What!” cried Mrs. Grivois, whose sorrows were renewed at the + sight; “has that abominable dog followed the coach?” + </p> + <p> + “A famous dog, mum,” answered the coachman “he never + once left the heels of my horses. He must have been trained to it. He’s + a powerful beast, and two men couldn’t scare him. Look at the throat + of him now!” + </p> + <p> + The mistress of the deceased pug, enraged at the somewhat unseasonable + praises bestowed upon the Siberian, said to the orphans, “I will + announce your arrival, wait for me an instant in the coach.” + </p> + <p> + So saying, she went with a rapid step towards the porch, and rang the + bell. A woman, clad in a monastic garb, appeared at the door, and bowed + respectfully to Mrs. Grivois, who addressed her in these few words, + “I have brought you the two young girls; the orders of Abbe d’Aigrigny + and the princess are, that they be instantly separated, and kept apart in + solitary cells—you understand, sister—and subjected to the + rule for impenitents.” + </p> + <p> + “I will go and inform the superior, and it will be done,” said + the portress, with another bend. + </p> + <p> + “Now, will you come, my dear young ladies?” resumed Mrs. + Grivois, addressing the two girls, who had secretly bestowed a few + caresses upon Spoil sport, so deeply were they touched by his instinctive + attachment; “you will be introduced to your relation, and I will + return and fetch you in half an hour. Coachman keep that dog back.” + </p> + <p> + Rose and Blanche, in getting out of the coach, were so much occupied with + Spoil-sport, that they did not perceive the portress, who was half hidden + behind the little door. Neither did they remark, that the person who was + to introduce them was dressed as a nun, till, taking them by the hand, she + had led them across the threshold, when the door was immediately closed + behind them. + </p> + <p> + As soon as Mrs. Grivois had seen the orphans safe into the convent, she + told the coachman to leave the court-yard, and wait for her at the outer + gate. The coachman obeyed; but Spoil-sport, who had seen Rose and Blanche + enter by the little door, ran to it, and remained there. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Grivois then called the porter of the main entrance, a tall, vigorous + fellow and said to him: “Here are ten francs for you, Nicholas, if + you will beat out the brains of that great dog, who is crouching under the + porch.” + </p> + <p> + Nicholas shook his head, as he observed Spoil-sport’s size and + strength. “Devil take me, madame!” said he; “‘tis + not so easy to tackle a dog of that build.” + </p> + <p> + “I will give you twenty francs; only kill him before me.” + </p> + <p> + “One ought to have a gun, and I have only an iron hammer.” + </p> + <p> + “That will do; you can knock him down at a blow.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, madame—I will try—but I have my doubts.” + And Nicholas went to fetch his mallet. + </p> + <p> + “Oh! if I had the strength!” said Mrs. Grivois. + </p> + <p> + The porter returned with his weapon, and advanced slowly and treacherously + towards Spoil-sport, who was still crouching beneath the porch. “Here, + old fellow! here, my good dog!” said Nicholas striking his left hand + on his thigh, and keeping his right behind him, with the crowbar grasped + in it. + </p> + <p> + Spoil-sport rose, examined Nicholas attentively, and no doubt perceiving + by his manner that the porter meditated some evil design, bounded away + from him, outflanked the enemy, saw clearly what was intended, and kept + himself at a respectful distance. + </p> + <p> + “He smells a rat,” said Nicholas; “the rascal’s on + his guard. He will not let me come near him. It’s no go.” + </p> + <p> + “You are an awkward fellow,” said Mrs. Grivois in a passion, + as she threw a five-franc piece to Nicholas: “at all events, drive + him away.” + </p> + <p> + “That will be easier than to kill him, madame,” said the + porter. Indeed, finding himself pursued, and conscious probably that it + would be useless to attempt an open resistance, Spoil-sport fled from the + court-yard into the street; but once there, he felt himself, as it were, + upon neutral ground, and notwithstanding all the threats of Nicholas, + refused to withdraw an inch further than just sufficient to keep out of + reach of the sledge-hammer. So that when Mrs. Grivois, pale with rage, + again stepped into her hackney-coach, in which were My Lord’s + lifeless remains, she saw with the utmost vexation that Spoil-sport was + lying at a few steps from the gate, which Nicholas had just closed, having + given up the chase in despair. + </p> + <p> + The Siberian dog, sure of finding his way back to the Rue Brise-Miche, had + determined, with the sagacity peculiar to his race, to wait for the + orphans on the spot where he then was. + </p> + <p> + Thus were the two sisters confined in St. Mary’s Convent, which, as + we have already said, was next door to the lunatic asylum in which + Adrienne de Cardoville was immured. + </p> + <p> + We now conduct the reader to the dwelling of Dagobert’s wife, who + was waiting with dreadful anxiety for the return of her husband, knowing + that he would call her to account for the disappearance of Marshal Simon’s + daughters. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0052" id="link2HCH0052"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER LII. THE INFLUENCE OF A CONFESSOR. + </h2> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">H</span>ardly had the + orphans quitted Dagobert’s wife, when the poor woman, kneeling down, + began to pray with fervor. Her tears, long restrained, now flowed + abundantly; notwithstanding her sincere conviction that she had performed + a religious duty in delivering up the girl’s she waited with extreme + fear her husband’s return. Though blinded by her pious zeal, she + could not hide from herself, that Dagobert would have good reason to be + angry; and then this poor mother had also, under these untoward + circumstances, to tell him of Agricola’s arrest. + </p> + <p> + Every noise upon the stairs made Frances start with trembling anxiety; + after which, she would resume her fervent prayers, supplicating strength + to support this new and arduous trial. At length, she heard a step upon + the landing-place below, and, feeling sure this time that it was Dagobert, + she hastily seated herself, dried her tears, and taking a sack of coarse + cloth upon her lap, appeared to be occupied with sewing—though her + aged hands trembled so much, that she could hardly hold the needle. + </p> + <p> + After some minutes the door opened, and Dagobert appeared. The soldier’s + rough countenance was stern and sad; as he entered, he flung his hat + violently upon the table, so full of painful thought, that he did not at + first perceive the absence of the orphans. + </p> + <p> + “Poor girl!” cried he. “It is really terrible!” + </p> + <p> + “Didst see Mother Bunch? didst claim her?” said Frances + hastily, forgetting for a moment her own fears. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I have seen her—but in what a state—twas enough to + break one’s heart. I claimed her, and pretty loud too, I can tell + you; but they said to me, that the commissary must first come to our place + in order—” here Dagobert paused, threw a glance of surprise + round the room, and exclaimed abruptly: “Where are the children?” + </p> + <p> + Frances felt herself seized with an icy shudder. “My dear,” + she began in a feeble voice—but she was unable to continue. + </p> + <p> + “Where are Rose and Blanche! Answer me then! And Spoil-sport, who is + not here either!” + </p> + <p> + “Do not be angry.” + </p> + <p> + “Come,” said Dagobert, abruptly, “I see you have let + them go out with a neighbor—why not have accompanied them yourself, + or let them wait for me, if they wished to take a walk; which is natural + enough, this room being so dull. But I am astonished that they should have + gone out before they had news of good Mother Bunch—they have such + kind hearts. But how pale you are?” added the soldier looking nearer + at Frances; “what is the matter, my poor wife? Are you ill?” + </p> + <p> + Dagobert took Frances’s hand affectionately in his own but the + latter, painfully agitated by these words, pronounced with touching + goodness, bowed her head and wept as she kissed her husband’s hand. + The soldier, growing more and more uneasy as he felt the scalding tears of + his wife, exclaimed: “You weep, you do not answer—tell me, + then, the cause of your grief, poor wife! Is it because I spoke a little + loud, in asking you how you could let the dear children go out with a + neighbor? Remember their dying mother entrusted them to my care—‘tis + sacred, you see—and with them, I am like an old hen after her + chickens,” added he, laughing to enliven Frances. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, you are right in loving them!” + </p> + <p> + “Come, then—becalm—you know me of old. With my great, + hoarse voice, I am not so bad a fellow at bottom. As you can trust to this + neighbor, there is no great harm done; but, in future, my good Frances, do + not take any step with regard to the children without consulting me. They + asked, I suppose, to go out for a little stroll with Spoil-sport?” + </p> + <p> + “No, my dear!” + </p> + <p> + “No! Who is this neighbor, to whom you have entrusted them? Where + has she taken them? What time will she bring them back?” + </p> + <p> + “I do not know,” murmured Frances, in a failing voice. + </p> + <p> + “You do not know!” cried Dagobert, with indignation; but + restraining himself, he added, in a tone of friendly reproach: “You + do not know? You cannot even fix an hour, or, better still, not entrust + them to any one? The children must have been very anxious to go out. They + knew that I should return at any moment, so why not wait for me—eh, + Frances? I ask you, why did they not wait for me? Answer me, will you!—Zounds! + you would make a saint swear!” cried Dagobert, stamping his foot; + “answer me, I say!” + </p> + <p> + The courage of Frances was fast failing. These pressing and reiterated + questions, which might end by the discovery of the truth, made her endure + a thousand slow and poignant tortures. She preferred coming at once to the + point, and determined to bear the full weight of her husband’s + anger, like a humble and resigned victim, obstinately faithful to the + promise she had sworn to her confessor. + </p> + <p> + Not having the strength to rise, she bowed her head, allowed her arms to + fall on either side of the chair, and said to her husband in a tone of the + deepest despondency: “Do with me what you will—but do not ask + what is become of the children—I cannot answer you.” + </p> + <p> + If a thunderbolt had fallen at the feet of the soldier, he would not have + been more violently, more deeply moved; he became deadly pale; his bald + forehead was covered with cold sweat; with fixed and staring look, he + remained for some moments motionless, mute, and petrified. Then, as if + roused with a start from this momentary torpor, and filled with a terrific + energy, he seized his wife by the shoulders, lifted her like a feather, + placed her on her feet before him, and, leaning over her, exclaimed in a + tone of mingled fury and despair: “The children!” + </p> + <p> + “Mercy! mercy!” gasped Frances, in a faint voice. + </p> + <p> + “Where are the children?” repeated Dagobert, as he shook with + his powerful hands that poor frail body, and added in a voice of thunder: + “Will you answer? the children!” + </p> + <p> + “Kill me, or forgive me, I cannot answer you,” replied the + unhappy woman, with that inflexible, yet mild obstinacy, peculiar to timid + characters, when they act from convictions of doing right. + </p> + <p> + “Wretch!” cried the soldier; wild with rage, grief, despair, + he lifted up his wife as if he would have dashed her upon the floor—but + he was too brave a man to commit such cowardly cruelty, and, after that + first burst of involuntary fury, he let her go. + </p> + <p> + Overpowered, Frances sank upon her knees, clasped her hands, and, by the + faint motion of her lips, it was clear that she was praying. Dagobert had + then a moment of stunning giddiness; his thoughts wandered; what had just + happened was so sudden, so incomprehensible that it required some minutes + to convince himself that his wife (that angel of goodness, whose life had + been one course of heroic self-devotion, and who knew what the daughters + of Marshal Simon were to him) should say to him: “Do not ask me + about them—I cannot answer you.” + </p> + <p> + The firmest, the strongest mind would have been shaken by this + inexplicable fact. But, when the soldier had a little recovered himself, + he began to look coolly at the circumstances, and reasoned thus sensibly + with himself: “My wife alone can explain to me this inconceivable + mystery—I do not mean either to beat or kill her—let us try + every possibly method, therefore, to induce her to speak, and above all, + let me try to control myself.” + </p> + <p> + He took a chair, handed another to his wife, who was still on her knees, + and said to her: “Sit down.” With an air of the utmost + dejection, Frances obeyed. + </p> + <p> + “Listen to me, wife,” resumed Dagobert in a broken voice, + interrupted by involuntary starts, which betrayed the boiling impatience + he could hardly restrain. “Understand me—this cannot pass over + in this manner—you know. I will never use violence towards you—just + now, I gave way to a first moment of hastiness—I am sorry for it. Be + sure, I shall not do so again: but, after all, I must know what has become + of these children. Their mother entrusted them to my care, and I did not + bring them all the way from Siberia, for you to say to me: ‘Do not + ask me—I cannot tell you what I have done with them.’ There is + no reason in that. Suppose Marshal Simon were to arrive, and say to me, + ‘Dagobert, my children?’ what answer am I to give him? See, I + am calm—judge for yourself—I am calm—but just put + yourself in my place, and tell me—what answer am I to give to the + marshal? Well—what say you! Will you speak!” + </p> + <p> + “Alas! my dear—” + </p> + <p> + “It is of no use crying alas!” said the soldier wiping his + forehead, on which the veins were swollen as if they would burst; “what + am I to answer to the marshal?” + </p> + <p> + “Accuse me to him—I will bear it all—I will say—” + </p> + <p> + “What will you say?” + </p> + <p> + “That, on going out, you entrusted the two girls to me, and that not + finding them on return you asked be about them—and that my answer + was, that I could not tell you what had become of them.” + </p> + <p> + “And you think the marshal will be satisfied with such reasons?” + cried Dagobert, clinching his fists convulsively upon his knees. + </p> + <p> + “Unfortunately, I can give no other—either to him or you—no—not + if I were to die for it.” + </p> + <p> + Dagobert bounded from his chair at this answer, which was given with + hopeless resignation. His patience was exhausted; but determined not to + yield to new bursts of anger, or to spend his breath in useless menaces, + he abruptly opened one of the windows, and exposed his burning forehead to + the cool air. A little calmer, he walked up and down for a few moments, + and then returned to seat himself beside his wife. She, with her eyes + bathed in tears, fixed her gaze upon the crucifix, thinking that she also + had to bear a heavy cross. + </p> + <p> + Dagobert resumed: “By the manner in which you speak, I see that no + accident has happened, which might endanger the health of the children.” + </p> + <p> + “No, oh no! thank God, they are quite well—that is all I can + say to you.” + </p> + <p> + “Did they go out alone?” + </p> + <p> + “I cannot answer you.” + </p> + <p> + “Has any one taken them away?” + </p> + <p> + “Alas, my dear! why ask me these questions? I cannot answer you.” + </p> + <p> + “Will they come back here?” + </p> + <p> + “I do not know.” + </p> + <p> + Dagobert started up; his patience was once more exhausted. But, after + taking a few turns in the room, he again seated himself as before. + </p> + <p> + “After all,” said he to his wife, “you have no interest + to conceal from me what is become of the children. Why refuse to let me + know?” + </p> + <p> + “I cannot do otherwise.” + </p> + <p> + “I think you will change your opinion, when you know something that + I am now forced to tell you. Listen to me well!” added Dagobert, in + an agitated voice; “if these children are not restored to me before + the 13th of February—a day close at hand—I am in the position + of a man that would rob the daughters of Marshal Simon—rob them, d’ye + understand?” said the soldier, becoming more and more agitated. + Then, with an accent of despair which pierced Frances’s heart, he + continued: “And yet I have done all that an honest man could do for + those poor children—you cannot tell what I have had to suffer on the + road—my cares, my anxieties—I, a soldier, with the charge of + two girls. It was only by strength of heart, by devotion, that I could go + through with it—and when, for my reward, I hoped to be able to say + to their father: ‘Here are your children!—‘” The + soldier paused. To the violence of his first emotions had succeeded a + mournful tenderness; he wept. + </p> + <p> + At sight of the tears rolling slowly down Dagobert’s gray moustache, + Frances felt for a moment her resolution give way; but, recalling the oath + which she had made to her confessor, and reflecting that the eternal + salvation of the orphans was at stake, she reproached herself inwardly + with this evil temptation, which would no doubt be severely blamed by Abbe + Dubois. She answered, therefore, in a trembling voice: “How can they + accuse you of robbing these children?” + </p> + <p> + “Know,” resumed Dagobert, drawing his hand across his eyes, + “that if these young girls have braved so many dangers, to come + hither, all the way from Siberia, it is that great interests are concerned—perhaps + an immense fortune—and that, if they are not present on the 13th + February—here, in Paris, Rue Saint Francois—all will be lost—and + through my fault—for I am responsible for your actions.” + </p> + <p> + “The 13th February? Rue Saint Francois?” cried Frances, + looking at her husband with surprise. “Like Gabriel!” + </p> + <p> + “What do you say about Gabriel?” + </p> + <p> + “When I took him in (poor deserted child!), he wore a bronze medal + about his neck.” + </p> + <p> + “A bronze medal!” cried the soldier, struck with amazement; + “a bronze medal with these words, ‘At Paris you will be, the + 13th of February, 1832, Rue Saint Francois?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes—how do you know?” + </p> + <p> + “Gabriel, too!” said the soldier speaking to himself. Then he + added hastily: “Does Gabriel know that this medal was found upon + him?” + </p> + <p> + “I spoke to him of it at some time. He had also about him a + portfolio, filled with papers in a foreign tongue. I gave them to Abbe + Dubois, my confessor, to look over. He told me afterwards, that they were + of little consequence; and, at a later period, when a charitable person + named M. Rodin, undertook the education of Gabriel, and to get him into + the seminary, Abbe Dubois handed both papers and medal to him. Since then, + I have heard nothing of them.” + </p> + <p> + When Frances spoke of her confessor a sudden light flashed across the mind + of the soldier, though he was far from suspecting the machinations which + had so long been at work with regard to Gabriel and the orphans. But he + had a vague feeling that his wife was acting in obedience to some secret + influence of the confessional—an influence of which he could not + understand the aim or object, but which explained, in part at least, + Frances’s inconceivable obstinacy with regard to the disappearance + of the orphans. + </p> + <p> + After a moment’s reflection, he rose, and said sternly to his wife, + looking fixedly at her: “There is a priest at the bottom of all + this.” + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean, my dear?” + </p> + <p> + “You have no interest to conceal these children. You are one of the + best of women. You see that I suffer; if you only were concerned, you + would have pity upon me.” + </p> + <p> + “My dear—” + </p> + <p> + “I tell you, all this smacks of the confessional,” resumed + Dagobert. “You would sacrifice me and these children to your + confessor; but take care—I shall find out where he lives—and a + thousand thunders! I will go and ask him who is master in my house, he or + I—and if he does not answer,” added the soldier, with a + threatening expression of countenance, “I shall know how to make him + speak.” + </p> + <p> + “Gracious heaven!” cried Frances, clasping her hands in horror + at these sacrilegious words; “remember he is a priest!” + </p> + <p> + “A priest, who causes discord, treachery, and misfortune in my + house, is as much of a wretch as any other; whom I have a right to call to + account for the evil he does to me and mine. Therefore, tell me + immediately where are the children—or else, I give you fair warning, + I will go and demand them of the confessor. Some crime is here hatching, + of which you are an accomplice without knowing it, unhappy woman! Well, I + prefer having to do with another than you.” + </p> + <p> + “My dear,” said Frances, in a mild, firm voice, “you + cannot think to impose by violence on a venerable man, who for twenty + years has had the care of my soul. His age alone should be respected.” + </p> + <p> + “No age shall prevent me!” + </p> + <p> + “Heavens! where are you going? You alarm me!” + </p> + <p> + “I am going to your church. They must know you there—I will + ask for your confessor—and we shall see!” + </p> + <p> + “I entreat you, my dear,” cried Frances, throwing herself in a + fright before Dagobert, who was hastening towards the door; “only + think, to what you will expose yourself! Heavens! insult a priest? Why, it + is one of the reserved cases!” + </p> + <p> + These last words, which appeared most alarming to the simplicity of + Dagobert’s wife, did not make any impression upon the soldier. He + disengaged himself from her grasp, and was going to rush out bareheaded, + so high was his exasperation, when the door opened, and the commissary of + police entered, followed by Mother Bunch and a policeman, carrying the + bundle which he had taken from the young girl. + </p> + <p> + “The commissary!” cried Dagobert, who recognized him by his + official scarf. “Ah! so much the better—he could not have come + at a fitter moment.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0053" id="link2HCH0053"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER LIII. THE EXAMINATION. + </h2> + <h3> + “Mistress Frances Baudoin?” asked the magistrate. + </h3> + <p> + “Yes, sir—it is I,” said Frances. Then, perceiving the + pale and trembling sewing-girl, who did not dare to come forward, she + stretched out her arms to her. “Oh, my poor child!” she + exclaimed, bursting into tears; “forgive—forgive us—since + it is for our sake you have suffered this humiliation!” + </p> + <p> + When Dagobert’s wife had tenderly embraced the young sempstress, the + latter, turning towards the commissary, said to him with an expression of + sad and touching dignity: “You see, sir, that I am not a thief.” + </p> + <p> + “Madame,” said the magistrate, addressing Frances, “am I + to understand that the silver mug, the shawl, the sheets contained in this + bundle—” + </p> + <p> + “Belong to me, sir. It was to render me a service that this dear + girl, who is the best and most honest creature in the world, undertook to + carry these articles to the pawnbroker’s.” + </p> + <p> + “Sir,” said the magistrate sternly to the policeman, “you + have committed a deplorable error. I shall take care to report you, and + see that you are punished. You may go, sir.” Then, addressing Mother + Bunch, with an air of real regret, he added: “I can only express my + sorrow for what has happened. Believe me, I deeply feel for the cruel + position in which you have been placed.” + </p> + <p> + “I believe it, sir,” said Mother Bunch, “and I thank + you.” Overcome by so many emotions, she sank upon a chair. + </p> + <p> + The magistrate was about to retire, when Dagobert, who had been seriously + reflecting for some minutes, said to him in a firm voice: “Please to + hear me, Sir; I have a deposition to make.” + </p> + <p> + “Speak, Sir.” + </p> + <p> + “What I am about to say is very important; it is to you, in your + quality of a magistrate, that I make this declaration.” + </p> + <p> + “And as a magistrate I will hear you, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “I arrived here two days ago, bringing with me from Russia two girls + who had been entrusted to me by their mother—the wife of Marshal + Simon.” + </p> + <p> + “Of Marshal Simon, Duke de Ligny?” said the commissary, very + much surprised. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Sir. Well, I left them here, being obliged to get out on + pressing business. This morning, during my absence, they disappeared—and + I am certain I know the man who has been the cause of it.” + </p> + <p> + “Now, my dear,” said Frances, much alarmed. + </p> + <p> + “Sir,” said the magistrate, “your declaration is a very + serious one. Disappearance of persons—sequestration, perhaps. But + are you quite sure?” + </p> + <p> + “These young ladies were here an hour ago; I repeat, sir, that + during my absence, they have been taken away.” + </p> + <p> + “I do not doubt the sincerity of your declaration, sir; but still it + is difficult to explain so strange an abduction. Who tells you that these + young girls will not return? Besides, whom do you suspect? One word, + before you make your accusation. Remember, it is the magistrate who hears + you. On leaving this place, the law will take its course in this affair.” + </p> + <p> + “That is what I wish, Sir; I am responsible for those young ladies + to their father. He may arrive at any moment, and I must be prepared to + justify myself.” + </p> + <p> + “I understand all these reasons, sir; but still have a care you are + not deceived by unfounded suspicions. Your denunciation once made, I may + have to act provisionally against the person accused. Now, if you should + be under a mistake, the consequences would be very serious for you; and, + without going further,” said the magistrate, pointing to Mother + Bunch, with emotion, “you see what are the results of a false + accusation.” + </p> + <p> + “You hear, my dear,” cried Frances, terrified at the + resolution of Dagobert to accuse Abbe Dubois; “do not say a word + more, I entreat you.” + </p> + <p> + But the more the soldier reflected, the more he felt convinced that + nothing but the influence of her confessor could have induced Frances to + act as she had done; so he resumed, with assurance: “I accuse my + wife’s confessor of being the principal or the accomplice in the + abduction of Marshal Simon’s daughters.” + </p> + <p> + Frances uttered a deep groan, and hid her face in her hands; while Mother + Bunch, who had drawn nigh, endeavored to console her. The magistrate had + listened to Dagobert with extreme astonishment, and he now said to him + with some severity: “Pray, sir, do not accuse unjustly a man whose + position is in the highest degree respectable—a priest, sir?—yes, + a priest? I warned you beforehand to reflect upon what you advanced. All + this becomes very serious, and, at your age, any levity in such matters + would be unpardonable.” + </p> + <p> + “Bless me, sir!” said Dagobert, with impatience; “at my + age, one has common sense. These are the facts. My wife is one of the best + and most honorable of human creatures—ask any one in the + neighborhood, and they will tell you so—but she is a devotee; and, + for twenty years, she has always seen with her confessor’s eyes. She + adores her son, she loves me also; but she puts the confessor before us + both.” + </p> + <p> + “Sir,” said the commissary, “these family details—” + </p> + <p> + “Are indispensable, as you shall see. I go out an hour ago, to look + after this poor girl here. When I come back, the young ladies have + disappeared. I ask my wife to whom she has entrusted them, and where they + are; she falls at my feet weeping, and says: ‘Do what you will with + me, but do not ask me what has become of the children. I cannot answer + you.’” + </p> + <p> + “Is thus true, madame?” cried the commissary, looking at + Frances with surprise. + </p> + <p> + “Anger, threats, entreaties, had no effect,” resumed Dagobert; + “to everything she answered as mildly as a saint: ‘I can tell + you nothing!’ Now, sir, I maintain that my wife has no interest to + take away these children; she is under the absolute dominion of her + confessor; she has acted by his orders and for his purposes; he is the + guilty party.” + </p> + <p> + Whilst Dagobert spoke, the commissary looked more and more attentively at + Frances, who, supported by the hunchback, continued to weep bitterly. + After a moment’s reflection, the magistrate advanced towards + Dagobert’s wife, and said to her: “Madame, you have heard what + your husband has just declared.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “What have you to say in your justification?” + </p> + <p> + “But, sir,” cried Dagobert, “it is not my wife that I + accuse—I do not mean that; it is her confessor.” + </p> + <p> + “Sir, you have applied to a magistrate; and the magistrate must act + as he thinks best for the discovery of the truth. Once more, madame,” + he resumed, addressing Frances, “what have you to say in your + justification?” + </p> + <p> + “Alas! nothing, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “Is it true that your husband left these young girls in your charge + when he went out?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “Is it true that, on his return, they were no longer to be found?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “Is it true that, when he asked you where they were, you told him + that you could give him no information on the subject?” + </p> + <p> + The commissary appeared to wait for Frances’ reply with kind of + anxious curiosity. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir,” said she, with the utmost simplicity, “that + was the answer I made my husband.” + </p> + <p> + “What, madame!” said the magistrate, with an air of painful + astonishment; “that was your only answer to all the prayers and + commands of your husband? What! you refused to give him the least + information? It is neither probable nor possible.” + </p> + <p> + “It is the truth, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, but, after all, madame, what have you done with the young + ladies that were entrusted to your care?” + </p> + <p> + “I can tell you nothing about it, sir. If I would not answer my poor + husband, I certainly will not answer any one else.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, sir,” resumed Dagobert, “was I wrong? An honest, + excellent woman like that, who was always full of good sense and + affection, to talk in this way—is it natural? I repeat to you, sir + that it is the work of her confessor; act against him promptly and + decidedly, we shall soon know all, and my poor children will be restored + to me.” + </p> + <p> + “Madame,” continued the commissary, without being able to + repress a certain degree of emotion, “I am about to speak to you + very severely. My duty obliges me to do so. This affair becomes so serious + and complicated, that I must instantly commence judicial proceedings on + the subject. You acknowledge that these young ladies have been left in + your charge, and that you cannot produce them. Now, listen to me: if you + refuse to give any explanation in the matter, it is you alone that will be + accused of their disappearance. I shall be obliged, though with great + regret, to take you into custody.” + </p> + <p> + “Me!” cried Frances, with the utmost alarm. + </p> + <p> + “Her!” exclaimed Dagobert; “never! It is her confessor + that I accuse, not my poor wife. Take her into custody, indeed!” He + ran towards her, as if he would protect her. + </p> + <p> + “It is too late, sir,” said the commissary. “You have + made your charge for the abduction of these two young ladies. According to + your wife’s own declaration, she alone is compromised up to this + point. I must take her before the Public Prosecutor, who will decide what + course to pursue.” + </p> + <p> + “And I say, sir,” cried Dagobert, in a menacing tone, “that + my wife shall not stir from this room.” + </p> + <p> + “Sir,” said the commissary coolly, “I can appreciate + your feelings; but, in the interest of justice, I would beg you not to + oppose a necessary measure—a measure which, moreover, in ten minutes + it would be quite impossible for you to prevent.” + </p> + <p> + These words, spoken with calmness, recalled the soldier to himself. + “But, sir,” said he, “I do not accuse my wife.”’ + </p> + <p> + “Never mind, my dear—do not think of me!” said Frances, + with the angelic resignation of a martyr. “The Lord is still pleased + to try me sorely; but I am His unworthy servant, and must gratefully + resign myself to His will. Let them arrest me, if they choose; I will say + no more in prison than I have said already on the subject of those poor + children.” + </p> + <p> + “But, sir,” cried Dagobert, “you see that my wife is out + of her head. You cannot arrest her.” + </p> + <p> + “There is no charge, proof, or indication against the other person + whom you accuse, and whose character should be his protection. If I take + your wife, she may perhaps be restored to you after a preliminary + examination. I regret,” added the commissary, in a tone of pity, + “to have to execute such a mission, at the very moment when your son’s + arrest—” + </p> + <p> + “What!” cried Dagobert, looking with speechless astonishment + at his wife and Mother Bunch; “what does he say? my son?” + </p> + <p> + “You were not then aware of it? Oh, sir, a thousand pardons!” + said the magistrate, with painful emotion. “It is distressing to + make you such a communication.” + </p> + <p> + “My son!” repeated Dagobert, pressing his two hands to his + forehead. “My son! arrested!” + </p> + <p> + “For a political offence of no great moment,” said the + commissary. + </p> + <p> + “Oh! this is too much. All comes on me at once!” cried the + soldier, falling overpowered into a chair, and hiding his face with his + hands. + </p> + <p> + After a touching farewell, during which, in spite of her terror, Frances + remained faithful to the vow she had made to the Abbe Dubois—Dagobert, + who had refused to give evidence against his wife, was left leaning upon a + table, exhausted by contending emotions, and could not help explaining: + “Yesterday, I had with me my wife, my son, my two poor orphans—and + now—I am alone—alone!” + </p> + <p> + The moment he pronounced these words, in a despairing tone, a mild sad + voice was heard close behind him, saying timidly: “M. Dagobert, I am + here; if you will allow me, I will remain and wait upon you.” + </p> + <p> + It was Mother Bunch! + </p> + <p> + Trusting that the reader’s sympathy is with the old soldier thus + left desolate, with Agricola in his prison, Adrienne in hers, the + madhouse, and Rose and Blanche Simon in theirs, the nunnery; we hasten to + assure him (or her, as the case may be), that not only will their future + steps be traced, but the dark machinations of the Jesuits, and the + thrilling scenes in which new characters will perform their varied parts, + pervaded by the watching spirit of the Wandering Jew, will be revealed in + Part Second of this work, entitled: THE CHASTISEMENT. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0061" id="link2H_4_0061"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + BOOK IV. + </h2> + <p> + <a name="link2H_PART2" id="link2H_PART2"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + PART SECOND.—THE CHASTISEMENT. + </h2> + <p> + <a name="link2H_PROL2" id="link2H_PROL2"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + PROLOGUE.—THE BIRD’S-EYE VIEW OF TWO WORLDS. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I. The Masquerade II. The Contrast III. The Carouse IV. The + Farewell V. The Florine VI. Mother Sainte-Perpetue VII. The + Temptation VIII. Mother Bunch and Mdlle. De Cardoville IX. + The Encounters—The Meeting XI. Discoveries XII. The Penal + Code XIII. Burglary +</pre> + <p> + As the eagle, perched upon the cliff, commands an all-comprehensive view—not + only of what happens on the plains and in the woodlands, but of matters + occurring upon the heights, which its aerie overlooks, so may the reader + have sights pointed out to him, which lie below the level of the + unassisted eye. + </p> + <p> + In the year 1831, the powerful Order of the Jesuits saw fit to begin to + act upon information which had for some time been digesting in their + hands. + </p> + <p> + As it related to a sum estimated at no less than thirty or forty millions + of francs, it is no wonder that they should redouble all exertions to + obtain it from the rightful owners. + </p> + <p> + These were, presumably, the descendants of Marius, Count of Rennepont, in + the reign of Louis XIV. of France. + </p> + <p> + They were distinguished from other men by a simple token, which all, in + the year above named, had in their hands. + </p> + <p> + It was a bronze medal, bearing these legends on reverse and obverse: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + VICTIM + of + L. C. D. J. + Pray for me! + + PARIS, + February the 13th, 1682. + + IN PARIS + Rue St Francois, No. 3, + In a century and a half + you will be. + + February the 13th, 1832. + PRAY FOR ME! +</pre> + <p> + Those who had this token were descendants of a family whom, a hundred and + fifty years ago, persecution scattered through the world, in emigration + and exile; in changes of religion, fortune and name. For this family—what + grandeur, what reverses, what obscurity, what lustre, what penury, what + glory! How many crimes sullied, how many virtues honored it! The history + of this single family is the history of humanity! Passing through many + generations, throbbing in the veins of the poor and the rich, the + sovereign and the bandit, the wise and the simple, the coward and the + brave, the saint and the atheist, the blood flowed on to the year we have + named. + </p> + <p> + Seven representatives summed up the virtue, courage, degradation, + splendor, and poverty of the race. Seven: two orphan twin daughters of + exiled parents, a dethroned prince, a humble missionary priest, a man of + the middle class, a young lady of high name and large fortune, and a + working man. + </p> + <p> + Fate scattered them in Russia, India, France, and America. + </p> + <p> + The orphans, Rose and Blanche Simon, had left their dead mother’s + grave in Siberia, under charge of a trooper named Francis Baudoin, alias + Dagobert, who was as much attached to them as he had been devoted to their + father, his commanding general. + </p> + <p> + On the road to France, this little party had met the first check, in the + only tavern of Mockern village. Not only had a wild beast showman, known + as Morok the lion-tamer, sought to pick a quarrel with the inoffensive + veteran, but that failing, had let a panther of his menagerie loose upon + the soldier’s horse. That horse had carried Dagobert, under General + Simon’s and the Great Napoleon’s eyes, through many battles; + had borne the General’s wife (a Polish lady under the Czar’s + ban) to her home of exile in Siberia, and their children now across Russia + and Germany, but only to perish thus cruelly. An unseen hand appeared in a + manifestation of spite otherwise unaccountable. Dagobert, denounced as a + French spy, and his fair young companions accused of being adventuresses + to help his designs, had so kindled at the insult, not less to him than to + his old commander’s daughters, that he had taught the pompous + burgomaster of Mockern a lesson, which, however, resulted in the + imprisonment of the three in Leipsic jail. + </p> + <p> + General Simon, who had vainly sought to share his master’s St. + Helena captivity, had gone to fight the English in India. But + notwithstanding his drilling of Radja-sings sepoys, they had been beaten + by the troops taught by Clive, and not only was the old king of Mundi + slain, and the realm added to the Company’s land, but his son, + Prince Djalma, taken prisoner. However, at length released, he had gone to + Batavia, with General Simon. The prince’s mother was a Frenchwoman, + and among the property she left him in the capital of Java, the general + was delighted to find just such another medal as he knew was in his wife’s + possession. + </p> + <p> + The unseen hand of enmity had reached to him, for letters miscarried, and + he did not know either his wife’s decease or that he had twin + daughters. + </p> + <p> + By a trick, on the eve of the steamship leaving Batavia for the Isthmus of + Suez, Djalma was separated from his friend, and sailing for Europe alone, + the latter had to follow in another vessel. + </p> + <p> + The missionary priest trod the war trails of the wilderness, with that + faith and fearlessness which true soldiers of the cross should evince. In + one of these heroic undertakings, Indians had captured him, and dragging + him to their village under the shadow of the Rocky Mountains, they had + nailed him in derision to a cross, and prepared to scalp him. + </p> + <p> + But if an unseen hand of a foe smote or stabbed at the sons of Rennepont, + a visible interpositor had often shielded them, in various parts of the + globe. + </p> + <p> + A man, seeming of thirty years of age, very tall, with a countenance as + lofty as mournful, marked by the black eyebrows meeting, had thrown + himself—during a battle’s height—between a gun of a park + which General Simon was charging and that officer. The cannon vomited its + hail of death, but when the flame and smoke had passed, the tall man stood + erect as before, smiling pityingly on the gunner, who fell on his knees as + frightened as if he beheld Satan himself. Again, as General Simon lay upon + the lost field of Waterloo, raging with his wounds, eager to die after + such a defeat, this same man staunched his hurts, and bade him live for + his wife’s sake. + </p> + <p> + Years after, wearing the same unalterable look, this man accosted Dagobert + in Siberia, and gave him for General Simon’s wife, the diary and + letters of her husband, written in India, in little hope of them ever + reaching her hands. And at the year our story opens, this man unbarred the + cell-door of Leipsic jail, and let Dagobert and the orphans out, free to + continue their way into France. + </p> + <p> + On the other hand, when the scalping-knife had traced its mark around the + head of Gabriel the missionary, and when only the dexterous turn and tug + would have removed the trophy, a sudden apparition had terrified the + superstitious savages. It was a woman of thirty, whose brown tresses + formed a rich frame around a royal face, toned down by endless sorrowing. + The red-skins shrank from her steady advance, and when her hand was + stretched out between them and their young victim, they uttered a howl of + alarm, and fled as if a host of their foemen were on their track. Gabriel + was saved, but all his life he was doomed to bear that halo of martyrdom, + the circling sweep of the scalper’s knife. + </p> + <p> + He was a Jesuit. By the orders of his society he embarked for Europe. We + should say here, that he, though owning a medal of the seven described, + was unaware that he should have worn it. His vessel was driven by storms + to refit at the Azores, where he had changed ship into the same as was + bearing Prince Djalma to France, via Portsmouth. + </p> + <p> + But the gales followed him, and sated their fury by wrecking the “Black + Eagle” on the Picardy coast. This was at the same point as were a + disabled Hamburg steamer, among whose passengers where Dagobert and his + two charges, was destroyed the same night. Happily the tempest did not + annihilate them all. There were saved, Prince Djalma and a countryman of + his, one Faringhea, a Thuggee chief, hunted out of British India; + Dagobert, and Rose and Blanche Simon, whom Gabriel had rescued. These + survivors had recovered, thanks to the care they had received in + Cardoville House, a country mansion which had sheltered them, and except + the prince and the Strangler chief, the others were speedily able to go on + to Paris. + </p> + <p> + The old grenadier and the orphans—until General Simon should be + heard from—dwelt in the former’s house. His son had kept it, + from his mother’s love for the life-long home. It was such a mean + habitation as a workman like Agricola Baudoin could afford to pay the rent + of, and far from the fit abode of the daughters of the Duke de Ligny and + Marshal of France, which Napoleon had created General Simon, though the + rank had only recently been approved by the restoration. + </p> + <p> + But in Paris the unknown hostile hand showed itself more malignant than + ever. + </p> + <p> + The young lady of high name and large fortune was Adrienne de Cardoville, + whose aunt, the Princess de Saint-Dizier, was a Jesuit. Through her and + her accomplices’ machinations, the young lady’s forward yet + virtuous, wildly aspiring but sensible, romantic but just, character was + twisted into a passable reason for her immurement in a mad-house. + </p> + <p> + This asylum adjoined St. Mary’s Convent, into which Rose and Blanche + Simon were deceitfully conducted. To secure their removal, Dagobert had + been decoyed into the country, under pretence of showing some of General + Simon’s document’s to a lawyer; his son Agricola arrested for + treason, on account of some idle verses the blacksmith poet was guilty of, + and his wife rendered powerless, or, rather, a passive assistant, by the + influence of the confessional! When Dagobert hurried back from his wild + goose chase, he found the orphans gone: Mother Bunch (a fellow-tenant of + the house, who had been brought up in the family) ignorant, and his wife + stubbornly refusing to break the promise she had given her confessor, and + acquaint a single soul where she had permitted the girls to be taken. In + his rage, the soldier rashly accused that confessor, but instead of + arresting the Abbe Dubois, it was Mrs. Baudoin whom the magistrate felt + compelled to arrest, as the person whom alone he ventured to commit for + examination in regard to the orphans’ disappearance. Thus triumphs, + for the time being, the unseen foe. + </p> + <p> + The orphans in a nunnery; the dethroned prince a poor castaway in a + foreign land; the noble young lady in a madhouse; the missionary priest + under the thumb of his superiors. + </p> + <p> + As for the man of the middle class, and the working man, who concluded the + list of this family, we are to read of them, as well as of the others, in + the pages which now succeed these. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0054" id="link2HCH0054"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <div class="fig" style="width:65%;"> + <img src="images/20009m.jpg" alt="20009m” width=" /><br /> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/20009.jpg"><i>Original</i></a> + </h5> + <div class="fig" style="width:65%;"> + <img src="images/20013m.jpg" alt="20013m” width=" /><br /> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/20013.jpg"><i>Original</i></a> + </h5> + <div class="fig" style="width:65%;"> + <img src="images/20019m.jpg" alt="20019m” width=" /><br /> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/20019.jpg"><i>Original</i></a> + </h5> + <h2> + CHAPTER I. THE MASQUERADE. + </h2> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>he following day + to that on which Dagobert’s wife (arrested for not accounting for + the disappearance of General Simon’s daughters) was led away before + a magistrate, a noisy and animated scene was transpiring on the Place du + Chatelet, in front of a building whose first floor and basement were used + as the tap-rooms of the “Sucking Calf” public-house. + </p> + <p> + A carnival night was dying out. + </p> + <p> + Quite a number of maskers, grotesquely and shabbily bedecked, had rushed + out of the low dance-houses in the Guildhall Ward, and were roaring out + staves of songs as they crossed the square. But on catching sight of a + second troop of mummers running about the water-side, the first party + stopped to wait for the others to come up, rejoicing, with many a shout, + in hopes of one of those verbal battles of slang and smutty talk which + made Vade so illustrious. + </p> + <p> + This mob—nearly all its members half seas over, soon swollen by the + many people who have to be up early to follow their crafts—suddenly + concentrated in one of the corners of the square, so that a pale, deformed + girl, who was going that way, was caught in the human tide. This was + Mother Bunch. Up with the lark, she was hurrying to receive some work from + her employer. Remembering how a mob had treated her when she had been + arrested in the streets only the day before, by mistake, the poor + work-girl’s fears may be imagined when she was now surrounded by the + revellers against her will. But, spite of all her efforts—very + feeble, alas!—she could not stir a step, for the band of + merry-makers, newly arriving, had rushed in among the others, shoving some + of them aside, pushing far into the mass, and sweeping Mother Bunch—who + was in their way—clear over to the crowd around the public-house. + </p> + <p> + The new-comers were much finer rigged out than the others, for they + belonged to the gay, turbulent class which goes frequently to the + Chaumiere, the Prado, the Colisee, and other more or less rowdyish haunts + of waltzers, made up generally of students, shop-girls, and counter + skippers, clerks, unfortunates, etc., etc. + </p> + <p> + This set, while retorting to the chaff of the other party, seemed to be + very impatiently expecting some singularly desired person to put in her + appearance. + </p> + <p> + The following snatches of conversation, passing between clowns and + columbines, pantaloons and fairies, Turks and sultans, debardeurs and + debardeuses, paired off more or less properly, will give an idea of the + importance of the wished-for personage. + </p> + <p> + “They ordered the spread to be for seven in the morning, so their + carriages ought to have come up afore now.” + </p> + <p> + “Werry like, but the Bacchanal Queen has got to lead off the last + dance in the Prado.” + </p> + <p> + “I wish to thunder I’d ‘a known that, and I’d + ‘a stayed there to see her—my beloved Queen!” + </p> + <p> + “Gobinet; if you call her your beloved Queen again, I’ll + scratch you! Here’s a pinch for you, anyhow!” + </p> + <p> + “Ow, wow, Celeste! hands off! You are black-spotting the be-yutiful + white satin jacket my mamma gave me when I first came out as Don + Pasqually!” + </p> + <p> + “Why did you call the Bacchanal Queen your beloved, then? What am I, + I’d like to know?” + </p> + <p> + “You are my beloved, but not my Queen, for there is only one moon in + the nights of nature, and only one Bacchanal Queen in the nights at the + Prado.” + </p> + <p> + “That’s a bit from a valentine! You can’t come over me + with such rubbish.” + </p> + <p> + “Gobinet’s right! the Queen was an out-and-outer tonight!” + </p> + <p> + “In prime feather!” + </p> + <p> + “I never saw her more on the go!” + </p> + <p> + “And, my eyes! wasn’t her dress stunning?” + </p> + <p> + “Took your breath away!” + </p> + <p> + “Crushing!” + </p> + <p> + “Heavy!” + </p> + <p> + “Im-mense!” + </p> + <p> + “The last kick!” + </p> + <p> + “No one but she can get up such dresses.” + </p> + <p> + “And, then, the dance!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes! it was at once bounding waving, twisting! There is not + such another bayadere under the night-cap of the sky!” + </p> + <p> + “Gobinet, give me back my shawl directly. You have already spoilt it + by rolling it round your great body. I don’t choose to have my + things ruined for hulking beasts who call other women bayaderes!” + </p> + <p> + “Celeste, simmer down. I am disguised as a Turk, and, when I talk of + bayaderes, I am only in character.” + </p> + <p> + “Your Celeste is like them all, Gobinet; she’s jealous of the + Bacchanal Queen.” + </p> + <p> + “Jealous!—do you think me jealous? Well now! that’s too + bad. If I chose to be as showy as she is they would talk of me as much. + After all, it’s only a nickname that makes her reputation! nickname!” + </p> + <p> + “In that you have nothing to envy her—since you are called + Celeste!” + </p> + <p> + “You know well enough, Gobinet, that Celeste is my real name.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; but it’s fancied a nickname—when one looks in your + face.” + </p> + <p> + “Gobinet, I will put that down to your account.” + </p> + <p> + “And Oscar will help you to add it up, eh?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; and you shall see the total. When I carry one, the remainder + will not be you.” + </p> + <p> + “Celeste, you make me cry! I only meant to say that your celestial + name does not go well with your charming little face, which is still more + mischievous than that of the Bacchanal Queen.” + </p> + <p> + “That’s right; wheedle me now, wretch!” + </p> + <p> + “I swear by the accursed head of my landlord, that, if you liked, + you could spread yourself as much as the Bacchanal Queen—which is + saying a great deal.” + </p> + <p> + “The fact is, that the Bacchanal had cheek enough, in all + conscience.” + </p> + <p> + “Not to speak of her fascinating the bobbies!” + </p> + <p> + “And magnetizing the beaks.” + </p> + <p> + “They may get as angry as they please; she always finishes by making + them laugh.” + </p> + <p> + “And they all call her: Queen!” + </p> + <p> + “Last night she charmed a slop (as modest as a country girl) whose + purity took up arms against the famous dance of the Storm-blown Tulip.” + </p> + <p> + “What a quadrille! Sleepinbuff and the Bacchanal Queen, having + opposite to them Rose-Pompon and Ninny Moulin!” + </p> + <p> + “And all four making tulips as full-blown as could be!” + </p> + <p> + “By-the-bye, is it true what they say of Ninny Moulin?” + </p> + <p> + “What?” + </p> + <p> + “Why that he is a writer, and scribbles pamphlets on religion.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, it is true. I have often seen him at my employer’s, with + whom he deals; a bad paymaster, but a jolly fellow!” + </p> + <p> + “And pretends to be devout, eh?” + </p> + <p> + “I believe you, my boy—when it is necessary; then he is my + Lord Dumoulin, as large as life. He rolls his eyes, walks with his head on + one side, and his toes turned in; but, when the piece is played out, he + slips away to the balls of which he is so fond. The girls christened him + Ninny Moulin. Add, that he drinks like a fish, and you have the photo of + the cove. All this doesn’t prevent his writing for the religious + newspapers; and the saints, whom he lets in even oftener than himself, are + ready to swear by him. You should see his articles and his tracts—only + see, not read!—every page is full of the devil and his horns, and + the desperate fryings which await your impious revolutionists—and + then the authority of the bishops, the power of the Pope—hang it! + how could I know it all? This toper, Ninny Moulin, gives good measure + enough for their money!” + </p> + <p> + “The fact is, that he is both a heavy drinker and a heavy swell. How + he rattled on with little Rose-Pompon in the dance and the full-blown + tulip!” + </p> + <p> + “And what a rum chap he looked in his Roman helmet and top-boots.” + </p> + <p> + “Rose-Pompon dances divinely, too; she has the poetic twist.” + </p> + <p> + “And don’t show her heels a bit!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; but the Bacchanal Queen is six thousand feet above the level + of any common leg-shaker. I always come back to her step last night in the + full-blown tulip.” + </p> + <p> + “It was huge!” + </p> + <p> + “It was serene!” + </p> + <p> + “If I were father of a family, I would entrust her with the + education of my sons!” + </p> + <p> + “It was that step, however, which offended the bobby’s + modesty.” + </p> + <p> + “The fact is, it was a little free.” + </p> + <p> + “Free as air—so the policeman comes up to her, and says: + ‘Well, my Queen, is your foot to keep on a-goin’ up forever?’ + ‘No, modest warrior!’ replies the Queen; ‘I practice the + step only once every evening, to be able to dance it when I am old. I made + a vow of it, that you might become an inspector.’” + </p> + <p> + “What a comic card!” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t believe she will remain always with Sleepinbuff.” + </p> + <p> + “Because he has been a workman?” + </p> + <p> + “What nonsense! it would preciously become us, students and + shop-boys, to give ourselves airs! No; but I am astonished at the Queen’s + fidelity.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes—they’ve been a team for three or four good months.” + </p> + <p> + “She’s wild upon him, and he on her.” + </p> + <p> + “They must lead a gay life.” + </p> + <p> + “Sometimes I ask myself where the devil Sleepinbuff gets all the + money he spends. It appears that he pays all last night’s expenses, + three coaches-and-four, and a breakfast this morning for twenty, at ten + francs a-head.” + </p> + <p> + “They say he has come into some property. That’s why Ninny + Moulin, who has a good nose for eating and drinking, made acquaintance + with him last night—leaving out of the question that he may have + some designs on the Bacchanal Queen.” + </p> + <p> + “He! In a lot! He’s rather too ugly. The girls like to dance + with him because he makes people laugh—but that’s all. Little + Rose-Pompon, who is such a pretty creature, has taken him as a harmless + chap-her-own, in the absence of her student.” + </p> + <p> + “The coaches! the coaches!” exclaimed the crowd, all with one + voice. + </p> + <p> + Forced to stop in the midst of the maskers, Mother Bunch had not lost a + word of this conversation, which was deeply painful to her, as it + concerned her sister, whom she had not seen for a long time. Not that the + Bacchanal Queen had a bad heart; but the sight of the wretched poverty of + Mother Bunch—a poverty which she had herself shared, but which she + had not had the strength of mind to bear any longer—caused such + bitter grief to the gay, thoughtless girl, that she would no more expose + herself to it, after she had in vain tried to induce her sister to accept + assistance, which the latter always refused, knowing that its source could + not be honorable. + </p> + <p> + “The coaches! the coaches!” once more exclaimed the crowd, as + they pressed forward with enthusiasm, so that Mother Bunch, carried on + against her will, was thrust into the foremost rank of the people + assembled to see the show. + </p> + <p> + It was, indeed, a curious sight. A man on horseback, disguised as a + postilion, his blue jacket embroidered with silver, and enormous tail from + which the powder escaped in puffs, and a hat adorned with long ribbons, + preceded the first carriage, cracking his whip, and crying with all his + might: “Make way for the Bacchanal Queen and her court!” + </p> + <p> + In an open carriage, drawn by four lean horses, on which rode two old + postilions dressed as devils, was raised a downright pyramid of men and + women, sitting, standing, leaning, in every possible variety of odd, + extravagant, and grotesque costume; altogether an indescribable mass of + bright colors, flowers, ribbons, tinsel and spangles. Amid this heap of + strange forms and dresses appeared wild or graceful countenances, ugly or + handsome features—but all animated by the feverish excitement of a + jovial frenzy—all turned with an expression of fanatical admiration + towards the second carriage, in which the Queen was enthroned, whilst they + united with the multitude in reiterated shouts of “Long live the + Bacchanal Queen.” + </p> + <p> + This second carriage, open like the first, contained only the four dancers + of the famous step of the Storm-blown Tulip—Ninny Moulin, Rose + Pompon, Sleepinbuff, and the Bacchanal Queen. + </p> + <p> + Dumoulin, the religious writer, who wished to dispute possession of Mme. + de la Sainte-Colombe with his patron, M. Rodin—Dumoulin, surnamed + Ninny Moulin, standing on the front cushions, would have presented a + magnificent study for Callot or Gavarni, that eminent artist, who unites + with the biting strength and marvellous fancy of an illustrious + caricaturist, the grace, the poetry, and the depth of Hogarth. + </p> + <p> + Ninny Moulin, who was about thirty-five years of age, wore very much back + upon his head a Roman helmet of silver paper. A voluminous plume of black + feathers, rising from a red wood holder, was stuck on one side of this + headgear, breaking the too classic regularity of its outline. Beneath this + casque, shone forth the most rubicund and jovial face, that ever was + purpled by the fumes of generous wine. A prominent nose, with its + primitive shape modestly concealed beneath a luxuriant growth of pimples, + half red, half violet, gave a funny expression to a perfectly beardless + face; while a large mouth, with thick lips turning their insides outwards, + added to the air of mirth and jollity which beamed from his large gray + eyes, set flat in his head. + </p> + <p> + On seeing this joyous fellow, with a paunch like Silenus, one could not + help asking how it was, that he had not drowned in wine, a hundred times + over, the gall, bile, and venom which flowed from his pamphlets against + the enemies of Ultramontanism, and how his Catholic beliefs could float + upwards in the midst of these mad excesses of drink and dancing. The + question would have appeared insoluble, if one had not remembered how many + actors, who play the blackest and most hateful first robbers on the stage, + are, when off it, the best fellow in the world. + </p> + <p> + The weather being cold, Ninny Moulin wore a kind of box-coat, which, being + half-open, displayed his cuirass of scales, and his flesh-colored + pantaloons, finishing just below the calf in a pair of yellow tops to his + boots. Leaning forward in front of the carriage, he uttered wild shouts of + delight, mingled with the words: “Long live the Bacchanal Queen!”—after + which, he shook and whirled the enormous rattle he held in his hand. + Standing beside him, Sleepinbuff waved on high a banner of white silk, on + which were the words: “Love and joy to the Bacchanal Queen!” + </p> + <p> + Sleepinbuff was about twenty-five years of age. His countenance was gay + and intelligent, surrounded by a collar of chestnut-colored whiskers; but + worn with late hours and excesses, it expressed a singular mixture of + carelessness and hardihood, recklessness and mockery; still, no base or + wicked passion had yet stamped there its fatal impress. He was the perfect + type of the Parisian, as the term is generally applied, whether in the + army, in the provinces, on board a king’s ship, or a merchantman. It + is not a compliment, and yet it is far from being an insult; it is an + epithet which partakes at once of blame, admiration, and fear; for if, in + this sense, the Parisian is often idle and rebellious, he is also quick at + his work, resolute in danger, and always terribly satirical and fond of + practical jokes. + </p> + <p> + He was dressed in a very flashy style. He wore a black velvet jacket with + silver buttons, a scarlet waistcoat, trousers with broad blue stripes, a + Cashmere shawl for a girdle with ends loosely floating, and a chimney-pot + hat covered with flowers and streamers. This disguise set off his light, + easy figure to great advantage. + </p> + <p> + At the back of the carriage, standing up on the cushions, were Rose Pompon + and the Bacchanal Queen. + </p> + <p> + Rose-Pompon, formerly a fringe-maker, was about seventeen years old, and + had the prettiest and most winning little face imaginable. She was gayly + dressed in debardeur costume. Her powdered wig, over which was smartly + cocked on one side an orange and green cap laced with silver, increased + the effect of her bright black eyes, and of her round, carnation cheeks. + She wore about her neck an orange-colored cravat, of the same material as + her loose sash. Her tight jacket and narrow vest of light green velvet, + with silver ornaments, displayed to the best advantage a charming figure, + the pliancy of which must have well suited the evolutions of the Storm + blown Tulip. Her large trousers, of the same stuff and color as the + jacket, were not calculated to hide any of her attractions. + </p> + <p> + The Bacchanal Queen, being at the least a head taller, leaned with one + hand on the shoulder of Rose-Pompon. Mother Bunch’s sister ruled, + like a true monarch, over this mad revelry, which her very presence seemed + to inspire, such influence had her own mirth and animation over all that + surrounded her. + </p> + <p> + She was a tall girl of about twenty years of age, light and graceful, with + regular features, and a merry, racketing air. Like her sister, she had + magnificent chestnut hair, and large blue eyes; but instead of being soft + and timid, like those of the young sempstress, the latter shone with + indefatigable ardor in the pursuit of pleasure. Such was the energy of her + vivacious constitution, that, notwithstanding many nights and days passed + in one continued revel, her complexion was as pure, her cheeks as rosy, + her neck as fresh and fair, as if she had that morning issued from some + peaceful home. Her costume, though singular and fantastic, suited her + admirably. It was composed of a tight, long-waisted bodice in cloth of + gold, trimmed with great bunches of scarlet ribbon, the ends of which + streamed over her naked arms, and a short petticoat of scarlet velvet, + ornamented with golden beads and spangles. This petticoat reached half way + down a leg, at once trim and strong, in a white silk stocking, and red + buskin with brass heel. + </p> + <p> + Never had any Spanish dancer a more supple, elastic, and tempting form, + than this singular girl, who seemed possessed with the spirit of dancing + and perpetual motion, for, almost every moment, a slight undulation of + head, hips, and shoulders seemed to follow the music of an invisible + orchestra; while the tip of her right foot, placed on the carriage door in + the most alluring manner, continued to beat time—for the Bacchanal + Queen stood proudly erect upon the cushions. + </p> + <p> + A sort of gilt diadem, the emblem of her noisy sovereignty, hung with + little bells, adorned her forehead. Her long hair, in two thick braids, + was drawn back from her rosy cheeks, and twisted behind her head. Her left + hand rested on little Rose-Pompon’s shoulder, and in her right she + held an enormous nosegay, which she waved to the crowd, accompanying each + salute with bursts of laughter. + </p> + <p> + It would be difficult to give a complete idea of this noisily animated and + fantastic scene, which included also a third carriage, filled, like the + first, with a pyramid of grotesque and extravagant masks. Amongst the + delighted crowd, one person alone contemplated the picture with deep + sorrow. It was Mother Bunch, who was still kept, in spite of herself, in + the first rank of spectators. + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:65%;"> + <img src="images/20029m.jpg" alt="20029m” width=" /><br /> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/20029.jpg"><i>Original</i></a> + </h5> + <p> + Separated from her sister for a long time, she now beheld her in all the + pomp of her singular triumph, in the midst of the cries of joy, and the + applause of her companions in pleasure. Yet the eyes of the young + sempstress grew dim with tears; for, though the Bacchanal Queen seemed to + share in the stunning gayety of all around her—though her face was + radiant with smiles, and she appeared fully to enjoy the splendors of her + temporary elevation—yet she had the sincere pity of the poor + workwoman, almost in rags, who was seeking, with the first dawn of + morning, the means of earning her daily bread. + </p> + <p> + Mother Bunch had forgotten the crowd, to look only at her sister, whom she + tenderly loved—only the more tenderly, that she thought her + situation to be pitied. With her eyes fixed on the joyous and beautiful + girl, her pale and gentle countenance expressed the most touching and + painful interest. + </p> + <p> + All at once, as the brilliant glance of the Bacchanal Queen travelled + along the crowd, it lighted on the sad features of Mother Bunch. + </p> + <p> + “My sister!” exclaimed Cephyse—such was the name of the + Bacchanal Queen—“My sister!”—and with one bound, + light as a ballet-dancer, she sprang from her movable throne (which + fortunately just happened to be stopping), and, rushing up to the + hunchback, embraced her affectionately. + </p> + <p> + All this had passed so rapidly, that the companions of the Bacchanal + Queen, still stupefied by the boldness of her perilous leap, knew not how + to account for it; whilst the masks who surrounded Mother Bunch drew back + in surprise, and the latter, absorbed in the delight of embracing her + sister, whose caresses she returned, did not even think of the singular + contrast between them, which was sure to soon excite the astonishment and + hilarity of the crowd. + </p> + <p> + Cephyse was the first to think of this, and wishing to save her sister at + least one humiliation, she turned towards the carriage, and said: “Rose + Pompon, throw me down my cloak; and, Ninny Moulin, open the door directly!” + </p> + <p> + Having received the cloak, the Bacchanal Queen hastily wrapped it round + her sister, before the latter could speak or move. Then, taking her by the + hand, she said to her: “Come! come!” + </p> + <p> + “I!” cried Mother Bunch, in alarm. “Do not think of it!” + </p> + <p> + “I must speak with you. I will get a private room, where we shall be + alone. So make haste, dear little sister! Do not resist before all these + people—but come!” + </p> + <p> + The fear of becoming a public sight decided Mother Bunch, who, confused + moreover with the adventure, trembling and frightened, followed her sister + almost mechanically, and was dragged by her into the carriage, of which + Ninny Moulin had just opened the door. And so, with the cloak of the + Bacchanal Queen covering Mother Bunch’s poor garments and deformed + figure, the crowd had nothing to laugh at, and only wondered what this + meeting could mean, while the coaches pursued their way to the eating + house in the Place du Chatelet. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0055" id="link2HCH0055"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER II. THE CONTRAST. + </h2> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">S</span>ome minutes after + the meeting of Mother Bunch with the Bacchanal Queen, the two sisters were + alone together in a small room in the tavern. + </p> + <p> + “Let me kiss you again,” said Cephyse to the young sempstress; + “at least now we are alone, you will not be afraid?” + </p> + <p> + In the effort of the Bacchanal Queen to clasp Mother Bunch in her arms, + the cloak fell from the form of the latter. At sight of those miserable + garments, which she had hardly had time to observe on the Place du + Chatelet, in the midst of the crowd, Cephyse clasped her hands, and could + not repress an exclamation of painful surprise. Then, approaching her + sister, that she might contemplate her more closely, she took her thin, + icy palms between her own plump hands, and examined for some minutes, with + increasing grief, the suffering, pale, unhappy creature, ground down by + watching and privations, and half-clothed in a poor, patched cotton gown. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, sister! to see you thus!” Unable to articulate another + word, the Bacchanal Queen threw herself on the other’s neck, and + burst into tears. Then, in the midst of her sobs, she added: “Pardon! + pardon!” + </p> + <p> + “What is the matter, my dear Cephyse?” said the young + sewing-girl, deeply moved, and gently disengaging herself from the embrace + of her sister. “Why do you ask my pardon?” + </p> + <p> + “Why?” resumed Cephyse, raising her countenance, bathed in + tears, and purple with shame; “is it not shameful of me to be + dressed in all this frippery, and throwing away so much money in follies, + while you are thus miserably clad, and in need of everything—perhaps + dying of want, for I have never seen your poor face look so pale and worn.” + </p> + <p> + “Be at ease, dear sister! I am not ill. I was up rather late last + night, and that makes me a little pale—but pray do not cry—it + grieves me.” + </p> + <p> + The Bacchanal Queen had but just arrived, radiant in the midst of the + intoxicated crowd, and yet it was Mother Bunch who was now employed in + consoling her! + </p> + <p> + An incident occurred, which made the contrast still more striking. Joyous + cries were heard suddenly in the next apartment, and these words were + repeated with enthusiasm: “Long live the Bacchanal Queen!” + </p> + <p> + Mother Bunch trembled, and her eyes filled with tears, as she saw her + sister with her face buried in her hands, as if overwhelmed with shame. + “Cephyse,” she said, “I entreat you not to grieve so. + You will make me regret the delight of this meeting, which is indeed + happiness to me! It is so long since I saw you! But tell me—what + ails you?” + </p> + <p> + “You despise me perhaps—you are right,” said the + Bacchanal Queen, drying her tears. + </p> + <p> + “Despise you? for what?” + </p> + <p> + “Because I lead the life I do, instead of having the courage to + support misery along with you.” + </p> + <p> + The grief of Cephyse was so heart-breaking, that Mother Bunch, always good + and indulgent, wishing to console her, and raise her a little in her own + estimation, said to her tenderly: “In supporting it bravely for a + whole year, my good Cephyse, you have had more merit and courage than I + should have in bearing with it my whole life.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, sister! do not say that.” + </p> + <p> + “In simple truth,” returned Mother Bunch, “to what + temptations is a creature like me exposed? Do I not naturally seek + solitude, even as you seek a noisy life of pleasure? What wants have I? A + very little suffices.” + </p> + <p> + “But you have not always that little?” + </p> + <p> + “No—but, weak and sickly as I seem, I can endure some + privations better than you could. Thus hunger produces in me a sort of + numbness, which leaves me very feeble—but for you, robust and full + of life, hunger is fury, is madness. Alas! you must remember how many + times I have seen you suffering from those painful attacks, when work + failed us in our wretched garret, and we could not even earn our four + francs a week—so that we had nothing—absolutely nothing to eat—for + our pride prevented us from applying to the neighbors.” + </p> + <p> + “You have preserved the right to that honest pride.” + </p> + <p> + “And you as well! Did you not struggle as much as a human creature + could? But strength fails at last—I know you well, Cephyse—it + was hunger that conquered you; and the painful necessity of constant + labor, which was yet insufficient to supply our common wants.” + </p> + <p> + “But you could endure those privations—you endure them still.” + </p> + <p> + “Can you compare me with yourself? Look,” said Mother Bunch, + taking her sister by the hand, and leading her to a mirror placed above a + couch, “look!—Dost think that God made you so beautiful, + endowed you with such quick and ardent blood, with so joyous, animated, + grasping a nature and with such taste and fondness for pleasure, that your + youth might be spent in a freezing garret, hid from the sun, nailed + constantly to your chair, clad almost in rags, and working without rest + and without hope? No! for He has given us other wants than those of eating + and drinking. Even in our humble condition, does not beauty require some + little ornament? Does not youth require some movement, pleasure, gayety? + Do not all ages call for relaxation and rest? Had you gained sufficient + wages to satisfy hunger, to have a day or so’s amusement in the + week, after working every other day for twelve or fifteen hours, and to + procure the neat and modest dress which so charming a face might naturally + claim—you would never have asked for more, I am sure of it—you + have told me as much a hundred times. You have yielded, therefore, to an + irresistible necessity, because your wants are greater than mine.” + </p> + <p> + “It is true,” replied the Bacchanal Queen, with a pensive air; + “if I could but have gained eighteenpence a day, my life would have + been quite different; for, in the beginning, sister, I felt cruelly + humiliated to live at a man’s expense.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes—it was inevitable, my dear Cephyse; I must pity, but + cannot blame you. You did not choose your destiny; but, like me, you have + submitted to it.” + </p> + <p> + “Poor sister!” said Cephyse, embracing the speaker tenderly; + “you can encourage and console me in the midst of your own + misfortunes, when I ought to be pitying you.” + </p> + <p> + “Be satisfied!” said Mother Bunch; “God is just and + good. If He has denied me many advantages, He has given me my joys, as you + have yours.” + </p> + <p> + “Joys?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, and great ones—without which life would be too + burdensome, and I should not have the courage to go through with it.” + </p> + <p> + “I understand you,” said Cephyse, with emotion; “you + still know how to devote yourself for others, and that lightens your own + sorrows.” + </p> + <p> + “I do what I can, but, alas! it is very little; yet when I succeed,” + added Mother Bunch, with a faint smile, “I am as proud and happy as + a poor little ant, who, after a great deal of trouble, has brought a big + straw to the common nest. But do not let us talk any more of me.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, but I must, even at the risk of making you angry,” + resumed the Bacchanal Queen, timidly; “I have something to propose + to you which you once before refused. Jacques Rennepont has still, I + think, some money left—we are spending it in follies—now and + then giving a little to poor people we may happen to meet—I beg of + you, let me come to your assistance—I see in your poor face, you + cannot conceal it from me, that you are wearing yourself out with toil.” + </p> + <p> + “Thanks, my dear Cephyse, I know your good heart; but I am not in + want of anything. The little I gain is sufficient for me.” + </p> + <p> + “You refuse me,” said the Bacchanal Queen, sadly, “because + you know that my claim to this money is not honorable—be it so—I + respect your scruples. But you will not refuse a service from Jacques; he + has been a workman, like ourselves, and comrades should help each other. + Accept it I beseech you, or I shall think you despise me.” + </p> + <p> + “And I shall think you despise me, if you insist any more upon it, + my dear Cephyse,” said Mother Bunch, in a tone at once so mild and + firm that the Bacchanal Queen saw that all persuasion would be in vain. + She hung her head sorrowfully, and a tear again trickled down her cheek. + </p> + <p> + “My refusal grieves you,” said the other, taking her hand; + “I am truly sorry—but reflect—and you will understand + me.” + </p> + <p> + “You are right,” said the Bacchanal Queen, bitterly, after a + moment’s silence; “you cannot accept assistance from my lover—it + was an insult to propose it to you. There are positions in life so + humiliating, that they soil even the good one wishes to do.” + </p> + <p> + “Cephyse, I did not mean to hurt you—you know it well.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! believe me,” replied the Bacchanal Queen, “gay and + giddy as I am, I have sometimes moments of reflection, even in the midst + of my maddest joy. Happily, such moments are rare.” + </p> + <p> + “And what do you think of, then?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, that the life I lead is hardly the thing; then resolve to ask + Jacques for a small sum of money, just enough to subsist on for a year, + and form the plan of joining you, and gradually getting to work again.” + </p> + <p> + “The idea is a good one; why not act upon it?” + </p> + <p> + “Because, when about to execute this project, I examined myself + sincerely, and my courage failed. I feel that I could never resume the + habit of labor, and renounce this mode of life, sometimes rich, as to day, + sometimes precarious,—but at least free and full of leisure, joyous + and without care, and at worst a thousand times preferable to living upon + four francs a week. Not that interest has guided me. Many times have I + refused to exchange a lover, who had little or nothing, for a rich man, + that I did not like. Nor have I ever asked anything for myself. Jacques + has spent perhaps ten thousand francs the last three or four months, yet + we only occupy two half-furnished rooms, because we always live out of + doors, like the birds: fortunately, when I first loved him, he had nothing + at all, and I had just sold some jewels that had been given me, for a + hundred francs, and put this sum in the lottery. As mad people and fools + are always lucky, I gained a prize of four thousand francs. Jacques was as + gay, and light-headed, and full of fun as myself, so we said: ‘We + love each other very much, and, as long as this money lasts, we will keep + up the racket; when we have no more, one of two things will happen—either + we shall be tired of one another, and so part—or else we shall love + each other still, and then, to remain together, we shall try and get work + again; and, if we cannot do so, and yet will not part—a bushel of + charcoal will do our business!’” + </p> + <p> + “Good heaven!” cried Mother Bunch, turning pale. + </p> + <p> + “Be satisfied! we have not come to that. We had still something + left, when a kind of agent, who had paid court to me, but who was so ugly + that I could not bear him for all his riches, knowing that I was living + with Jacques asked me to—But why should I trouble you with all these + details? In one word, he lent Jacques money, on some sort of a doubtful + claim he had, as was thought, to inherit some property. It is with this + money that we are amusing ourselves—as long as its lasts.” + </p> + <p> + “But, my dear Cephyse, instead of spending this money so foolishly, + why not put it out to interest, and marry Jacques, since you love him?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! in the first place,” replied the Bacchanal Queen, + laughing, as her gay and thoughtless character resumed its ascendancy, + “to put money out to interest gives one no pleasure. All the + amusement one has is to look at a little bit of paper, which one gets in + exchange for the nice little pieces of gold, with which one can purchase a + thousand pleasures. As for marrying, I certainly like Jacques better than + I ever liked any one; but it seems to me, that, if we were married, all + our happiness would end—for while he is only my lover, he cannot + reproach me with what has passed—but, as my husband, he would be + stare to upbraid me, sooner or later, and if my conduct deserves blame, I + prefer giving it to myself, because I shall do it more tenderly.” + </p> + <p> + “Mad girl that you are! But this money will not last forever. What + is to be done next?” + </p> + <p> + “Afterwards!—Oh! that’s all in the moon. To-morrow seems + to me as if it would not come for a hundred years. If we were always + saying: ‘We must die one day or the other’—would life be + worth having?” + </p> + <p> + The conversation between Cephyse and her sister was here again interrupted + by a terrible uproar, above which sounded the sharp, shrill noise of Ninny + Moulin’s rattle. To this tumult succeeded a chorus of barbarous + cries, in the midst of which were distinguishable these words, which shook + the very windows: “The Queen! the Bacchanal Queen!” + </p> + <p> + Mother Bunch started at this sudden noise. + </p> + <p> + “It is only my court, who are getting impatient,” said Cephyse—and + this time she could laugh. + </p> + <p> + “Heavens!” cried the sewing-girl, in alarm; “if they + were to come here in search of you?” + </p> + <p> + “No, no—never fear.” + </p> + <p> + “But listen! do you not hear those steps? they are coming along the + passage—they are approaching. Pray, sister, let me go out alone, + without being seen by all these people.” + </p> + <p> + That moment the door was opened, and Cephyse, ran towards it. She saw in + the passage a deputation headed by Ninny Moulin, who was armed with his + formidable rattle, and followed by Rose-Pompon and Sleepinbuff. + </p> + <p> + “The Bacchanal Queen! or I poison myself with a glass of water;” + cried Ninny Moulin. + </p> + <p> + “The Bacchanal Queen! or I publish my banns of marriage with Ninny + Moulin!” cried little Rose-Pompon, with a determined air. + </p> + <p> + “The Bacchanal Queen! or the court will rise in arms, and carry her + off by force!” said another voice. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes—let us carry her off!” repeated a formidable + chorus. + </p> + <p> + “Jacques, enter alone!” said the Bacchanal Queen, + notwithstanding these pressing summonses; then, addressing her court in a + majestic tone, she added: “In ten minutes, I shall be at your + service—and then for a—of a time!” + </p> + <p> + “Long live the Bacchanal Queen,” cried Dumoulin, shaking his + rattle as he retired, followed by the deputation, whilst Sleepinbuff + entered the room alone. + </p> + <p> + “Jacques,” said Cephyse, “this is my good sister.” + </p> + <p> + “Enchanted to see you,” said Jacques, cordially; “the + more so as you will give me some news of my friend Agricola. Since I began + to play the rich man, we have not seen each other, but I like him as much + as ever, and think him a good and worthy fellow. You live in the same + house. How is he?” + </p> + <p> + “Alas, sir! he and his family have had many misfortunes. He is in + prison.” + </p> + <p> + “In prison!” cried Cephyse. + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:65%;"> + <img src="images/20037m.jpg" alt="20037m” width=" /><br /> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/20037.jpg"><i>Original</i></a> + </h5> + <p> + “Agricola in prison! what for?” said Sleepinbuff. + </p> + <p> + “For a trifling political offence. We had hoped to get him out on + bail.” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly; for five hundred francs it could be done,” said + Sleepinbuff. + </p> + <p> + “Unfortunately, we have not been able; the person upon whom we + relied—” + </p> + <p> + The Bacchanal Queen interrupted the speaker by saying to her lover: + “Do you hear, Jacques? Agricola in prison, for want of five hundred + francs!” + </p> + <p> + “To be sure! I hear and understand all about it. No need of your + winking. Poor fellow! he was the support of his mother.” + </p> + <p> + “Alas! yes, sir—and it is the more distressing, as his father + has but just returned from Russia, and his mother—” + </p> + <p> + “Here,” said Sleepinbuff, interrupting, and giving Mother + Bunch a purse; “take this—all the expenses here have been paid + beforehand—this is what remains of my last bag. You will find here + some twenty-five or thirty Napoleons, and I cannot make a better use of them + than to serve a comrade in distress. Give them to Agricola’s father; + he will take the necessary steps, and to-morrow Agricola will be at his + forge, where I had much rather he should be than myself.” + </p> + <p> + “Jacques, give me a kiss!” said the Bacchanal Queen. + </p> + <p> + “Now, and afterwards, and again and again!” said Jacques, + joyously embracing the queen. + </p> + <p> + Mother Bunch hesitated for a moment; but reflecting that, after all, this + sum of money, which was about to be spent in follies, would restore life + and happiness to the family of Agricola, and that hereafter these very + five hundred francs, when returned to Jacques, might be of the greatest + use to him, she resolved to accept this offer. She took the purse, and + with tearful eyes, said to him: “I will not refuse your kindness M. + Jacques; you are so good and generous, Agricola’s father will thus + at least have one consolation, in the midst of heavy sorrows. Thanks! many + thanks!” + </p> + <p> + “There is no need to thank me; money was made for others as well as + ourselves.” + </p> + <p> + Here, without, the noise recommenced more furiously than ever, and Ninny + Moulin’s rattle sent forth the most doleful sounds. + </p> + <p> + “Cephyse,” said Sleepinbuff, “they will break everything + to pieces, if you do not return to them, and I have nothing left to pay + for the damage. Excuse us,” added he, laughing, “but you see + that royalty has its duties.” + </p> + <p> + Cephyse deeply moved, extended her arms to Mother Bunch, who threw herself + into them, shedding sweet tears. + </p> + <p> + “And now,” said she, to her sister, “when shall I see + you again?” + </p> + <p> + “Soon—though nothing grieves me more than to see you in want, + out of which I am not allowed to help you.” + </p> + <p> + “You will come, then, to see me? It is a promise?” + </p> + <p> + “I promise you in her name,” said Jacques; “we will pay + a visit to you and your neighbor Agricola.” + </p> + <p> + “Return to the company, Cephyse, and amuse yourself with a light + heart, for M. Jacques has made a whole family happy.” + </p> + <p> + So saying, and after Sleepinbuff had ascertained that she could go down + without being seen by his noisy and joyous companions, Mother Bunch + quietly withdrew, eager to carry one piece of good news at least to + Dagobert; but intending, first of all, to go to the Rue de Babylone, to + the garden-house formerly occupied by Adrienne de Cardoville. We shall + explain hereafter the cause of this determination. + </p> + <p> + As the girl quitted the eating-house, three men plainly and comfortably + dressed, were watching before it, and talking in a low voice. Soon after, + they were joined by a fourth person, who rapidly descended the stairs of + the tavern. + </p> + <p> + “Well?” said the three first, with anxiety. + </p> + <p> + “He is there.” + </p> + <p> + “Are you sure of it?” + </p> + <p> + “Are there two Sleepers-in-buff on earth?” replied the other. + “I have just seen him; he is togged out like one of the swell mob. + They will be at table for three hours at least.” + </p> + <p> + “Then wait for me, you others. Keep as quiet as possible. I will go + and fetch the captain, and the game is bagged.” So saying, one of + the three men walked off quickly, and disappeared in a street leading from + the square. + </p> + <p> + At this same instant the Bacchanal Queen entered the banqueting-room, + accompanied by Jacques, and was received with the most frenzied + acclamations from all sides. + </p> + <p> + “Now then,” cried Cephyse, with a sort of feverish excitement, + as if she wished to stun herself; “now then, friends—noise and + tumult, hurricane and tempest, thunder and earthquake—as much as you + please!” Then, holding out her glass to Ninny Moulin, she added: + “Pour out! pour out!” + </p> + <p> + “Long live the Queen!” cried they all, with one voice. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0056" id="link2HCH0056"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER III. THE CAROUSE. + </h2> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>he Bacchanal + Queen, having Sleepinbuff and Rose-Pompon opposite her, and Ninny Moulin + on her right hand, presided at the repast, called a reveille-matin + (wake-morning), generously offered by Jacques to his companions in + pleasure. + </p> + <p> + Both young men and girls seemed to have forgotten the fatigues of a ball, + begun at eleven o’clock in the evening, and finished at six in the + morning; and all these couples, joyous as they were amorous and + indefatigable, laughed, ate, and drank, with youthful and Pantagruelian + ardor, so that, during the first part of the feast, there was less chatter + than clatter of plates and glasses. + </p> + <p> + The Bacchanal Queen’s countenance was less gay, but much more + animated than usual; her flushed cheeks and sparkling eyes announced a + feverish excitement; she wished to drown reflection, cost what it might. + Her conversation with her sister often recurred to her, and she tried to + escape from such sad remembrances. + </p> + <p> + Jacques regarded Cephyse from time to time with passionate adoration; for, + thanks to the singular conformity of character, mind, and taste between + him and the Bacchanal Queen, their attachment had deeper and stronger + roots than generally belong to ephemeral connections founded upon + pleasure. Cephyse and Jacques were themselves not aware of all the power + of a passion which till now had been surrounded only by joys and + festivities, and not yet been tried by any untoward event. + </p> + <p> + Little Rose-Pompon, left a widow a few days before by a student, who, in + order to end the carnival in style, had gone into the country to raise + supplies from his family, under one of those fabulous pretences which + tradition carefully preserves in colleges of law and medicine—Rose + Pompon, we repeat, an example of rare fidelity, determined not to + compromise herself, had taken for a chaperon the inoffensive Ninny Moulin. + </p> + <p> + This latter, having doffed his helmet, exhibited a bald head, encircled by + a border of black, curling hair, pretty long at the back of the head. By a + remarkable Bacchic phenomenon, in proportion as intoxication gained upon + him, a sort of zone, as purple as his jovial face, crept by degrees over + his brow, till it obscured even the shining whiteness of his crown. + Rose-Pompon, who knew the meaning of this symptom, pointed it out to the + company, and exclaimed with a loud burst of laughter: “Take care, + Ninny Moulin! the tide of the wine is coming in.” + </p> + <p> + “When it rises above his head he will be drowned,” added the + Bacchanal Queen. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Queen! don’t disturb me; I am meditating, answered + Dumoulin, who was getting tipsy. He held in his hand, in the fashion of an + antique goblet, a punch-bowl filled with wine, for he despised the + ordinary glasses, because of their small size. + </p> + <p> + “Meditating,” echoed Rose-Pompon, “Ninny Moulin is + meditating. Be attentive!” + </p> + <p> + “He is meditating; he must be ill then!” + </p> + <p> + “What is he meditating? an illegal dance?” + </p> + <p> + “A forbidden Anacreontic attitude?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I am meditating,” returned Dumoulin, gravely; “I + am meditating upon wine, generally and in particular—wine, of which + the immortal Bossuet”—Dumoulin had the very bad habit of + quoting Bossuet when he was drunk—“of which the immortal + Bossuet says (and he was a judge of good liquor): ‘In wine is + courage, strength joy, and spiritual fervor’—when one has any + brains,” added Ninny Moulin, by way of parenthesis. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, my! how I adore your Bossuet!” said Rose-Pompon. + </p> + <p> + “As for my particular meditation, it concerns the question, whether + the wine at the marriage of Cana was red or white. Sometimes I incline to + one side, sometimes to the other—and sometimes to both at once.” + </p> + <p> + “That is going to the bottom of the question,” said + Sleepinbuff. + </p> + <p> + “And, above all, to the bottom of the bottles,” added the + Bacchanal Queen. + </p> + <p> + “As your majesty is pleased to observe; and already, by dint of + reflection and research, I have made a great discovery—namely, that, + if the wine at the marriage of Cana was red—” + </p> + <p> + “It couldn’t ‘a’ been white,” said + Rose-Pompon, judiciously. + </p> + <p> + “And if I had arrived at the conviction that it was neither white + nor red?” asked Dumoulin, with a magisterial air. + </p> + <p> + “That could only be when you had drunk till all was blue,” + observed Sleepinbuff. + </p> + <p> + “The partner of the Queen says well. One may be too athirst for + science; but never mind! From all my studies on this question, to which I + have devoted my life—I shall await the end of my respectable career + with the sense of having emptied tuns with a historical—theological—and + archeological tone!” + </p> + <p> + It is impossible to describe the jovial grimace and tone with which + Dumoulin pronounced and accentuated these last words, which provoked a + general laugh. + </p> + <p> + “Archieolopically?” said Rose-Pompon. “What sawnee is + that? Has he a tail? does he live in the water?” + </p> + <p> + “Never mind,” observed the Bacchanal Queen; “these are + words of wise men and conjurers; they are like horsehair bustles—they + serve for filling out—that’s all. I like better to drink; so + fill the glasses, Ninny Moulin; some champagne, Rose-Pompon; here’s + to the health of your Philemon and his speedy return!” + </p> + <p> + “And to the success of his plant upon his stupid and stingy family!” + added Rose-Pompon. + </p> + <p> + The toast was received with unanimous applause. + </p> + <p> + “With the permission of her majesty and her court,” said + Dumoulin, “I propose a toast to the success of a project which + greatly interests me, and has some resemblance to Philemon’s + jockeying. I fancy that the toast will bring me luck.” + </p> + <p> + “Let’s have it, by all means!” + </p> + <p> + “Well, then—success to my marriage!” said Dumoulin, + rising. + </p> + <p> + These words provoked an explosion of shouts, applause, and laughter. Ninny + Moulin shouted, applauded, laughed even louder than the rest, opening wide + his enormous mouth, and adding to the stunning noise the harsh springing + of his rattle, which he had taken up from under his chair. + </p> + <p> + When the storm had somewhat subsided, the Bacchanal Queen rose and said: + “I drink to the health of the future Madame Ninny Moulin.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Queen! your courtesy touches me so sensibly that I must allow + you to read in the depths of my heart the name of my future spouse,” + exclaimed Dumoulin. “She is called Madame + Honoree-Modeste-Messaline-Angele de la Sainte-Colombe, widow.” + </p> + <p> + “Bravo! bravo!” + </p> + <p> + “She is sixty years old, and has more thousands of francs-a-year + than she has hair in her gray moustache or wrinkles on her face; she is so + superbly fat that one of her gowns would serve as a tent for this + honorable company. I hope to present my future spouse to you on Shrove + Tuesday, in the costume of a shepherdess that has just devoured her flock. + Some of them wish to convert her—but I have undertaken to divert + her, which she will like better. You must help me to plunge her headlong + into all sorts of skylarking jollity.” + </p> + <p> + “We will plunge her into anything you please.” + </p> + <p> + “She shall dance like sixty!” said Rose-Pompon, humming a + popular tune. + </p> + <p> + “She will overawe the police.” + </p> + <p> + “We can say to them: ‘Respect this lady; your mother will + perhaps be as old some day!’” + </p> + <p> + Suddenly, the Bacchanal Queen rose; her countenance wore a singular + expression of bitter and sardonic delight. In one hand she held a glass + full to the brim. “I hear the Cholera is approaching in his + seven-league boots,” she cried. “I drink luck to the Cholera!” + And she emptied the bumper. + </p> + <p> + Notwithstanding the general gayety, these words made a gloomy impression; + a sort of electric shudder ran through the assemblage, and nearly every + countenance became suddenly serious. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Cephyse!” said Jacques, in a tone of reproach. + </p> + <p> + “Luck to the Cholera,” repeated the Queen, fearlessly. “Let + him spare those who wish to live, and kill together those who dread to + part!” + </p> + <p> + Jacques and Cephyse exchanged a rapid glance, unnoticed by their joyous + companions, and for some time the Bacchanal Queen remained silent and + thoughtful. + </p> + <p> + “If you put it that way, it is different,” cried Rose-Pompon, + boldly. “To the Cholera! may none but good fellows be left on earth!” + </p> + <p> + In spite of this variation, the impression was still painfully impressive. + Dumoulin, wishing to cut short this gloomy subject, exclaimed: “Devil + take the dead, and long live the living! And, talking of chaps who both + live and live well, I ask you to drink a health most dear to our joyous + queen, the health of our Amphitryon. Unfortunately, I do not know his + respectable name, having only had the advantage of making his acquaintance + this night; he will excuse me, then, if I confine myself to proposing the + health of Sleepinbuff—a name by no means offensive to my modesty, as + Adam never slept in any other manner. I drink to Sleepinbuff.” + </p> + <p> + “Thanks, old son!” said Jacques, gayly; “were I to + forget your name, I should call you ‘Have-a-sip?’ and I am + sure that you would answer: ‘I will.’” + </p> + <p> + “I will directly!” said Dumoulin, making the military salute + with one hand, and holding out the bowl with the other. + </p> + <p> + “As we have drunk together,” resumed Sleepinbuff, cordially, + “we ought to know each other thoroughly. I am Jacques Rennepont?” + </p> + <p> + “Rennepont!” cried Dumoulin, who appeared struck by the name, + in spite of his half-drunkenness; “you are Rennepont?” + </p> + <p> + “Rennepont in the fullest sense of the word. Does that astonish you?” + </p> + <p> + “There is a very ancient family of that name—the Counts of + Rennepont.” + </p> + <p> + “The deuce there is!” said the other, laughing. + </p> + <p> + “The Counts of Rennepont are also Dukes of Cardoville,” added + Dumoulin. + </p> + <p> + “Now, come, old fellow! do I look as if I belonged to such a family?—I, + a workman out for a spree?” + </p> + <p> + “You a workman? why, we are getting into the Arabian Nights!” + cried Dumoulin, more and more surprised. “You give us a Belshazzar’s + banquet, with accompaniment of carriages and four, and yet are a workman? + Only tell me your trade, and I will join you, leaving the Vine of the + Divine to take care of itself.” + </p> + <p> + “Come, I say! don’t think that I am a printer of flimsies, and + a smasher!” replied Jacques, laughing. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, comrade! no such suspicion—” + </p> + <p> + “It would be excusable, seeing the rigs I run. But I’ll make + you easy on that point. I am spending an inheritance.” + </p> + <p> + “Eating and drinking an uncle, no doubt?” said Dumoulin, + benevolently. + </p> + <p> + “Faith, I don’t know.” + </p> + <p> + “What! you don’t know whom you are eating and drinking?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, you see, in the first place, my father was a bone-grubber.” + </p> + <p> + “The devil he was!” said Dumoulin, somewhat out of + countenance, though in general not over-scrupulous in the choice of his + bottle-companions: but, after the first surprise, he resumed, with the + most charming amenity: “There are some rag-pickers very high by + scent—I mean descent!” + </p> + <p> + “To be sure! you may think to laugh at me,” said Jacques, + “but you are right in this respect, for my father was a man of very + great merit. He spoke Greek and Latin like a scholar, and often told me + that he had not his equal in mathematics; besides, he had travelled a good + deal.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, then,” resumed Dumoulin, whom surprise had partly + sobered, “you may belong to the family of the Counts of Rennepont, + after all.” + </p> + <p> + “In which case,” said Rose-Pompon, laughing, “your + father was not a gutter-snipe by trade, but only for the honor of the + thing.” + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:65%;"> + <img src="images/20045m.jpg" alt="20045m” width=" /><br /> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/20045.jpg"><i>Original</i></a> + </h5> + <p> + “No, no—worse luck! it was to earn his living,” replied + Jacques; “but, in his youth, he had been well off. By what appeared, + or rather by what did not appear, he had applied to some rich relation, + and the rich relation had said to him: ‘Much obliged! try the work’us.’ + Then he wished to make use of his Greek, and Latin, and mathematics. + Impossible to do anything—Paris, it seems, being choke-full of + learned men—so my father had to look for his bread at the end of a + hooked stick, and there, too, he must have found it, for I ate of it + during two years, when I came to live with him after the death of an aunt, + with whom I had been staying in the country.” + </p> + <p> + “Your respectable father must have been a sort of philosopher,” + said Dumoulin; “but, unless he found an inheritance in a dustbin, I + don’t see how you came into your property.” + </p> + <p> + “Wait for the end of the song. At twelve years of age I was an + apprentice at the factory of M. Tripeaud; two years afterwards, my father + died of an accident, leaving me the furniture of our garret—a + mattress, a chair, and a table—and, moreover, in an old Eau de + Cologne box, some papers (written, it seems, in English), and a bronze + medal, worth about ten sous, chain and all. He had never spoken to me of + these papers, so, not knowing if they were good for anything, I left them + at the bottom of an old trunk, instead of burning them—which was + well for me, since it is upon these papers that I have had money advanced.” + </p> + <p> + “What a godsend!” said Dumoulin. “But somebody must have + known that you had them?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; one of those people that are always looking out for old debts + came to Cephyse, who told me all about it; and, after he had read the + papers, he said that the affair was doubtful, but that he would lend me + ten thousand francs on it, if I liked. Ten thousand francs was a large + sum, so I snapped him up!” + </p> + <p> + “But you must have supposed that these old papers were of great + value.” + </p> + <p> + “Faith, no! since my father, who ought to have known their value, + had never realized on them—and then, you see, ten thousand francs in + good, bright coin, falling as it were from the clouds, are not to be + sneezed at—so I took them—only the man made me do a bit of + stiff as guarantee, or something of that kind.” + </p> + <p> + “Did you sign it?” + </p> + <p> + “Of course—what did I care about it? The man told me it was + only a matter of form. He spoke the truth, for the bill fell due a + fortnight ago, and I have heard nothing of it. I have still about a + thousand francs in his hands, for I have taken him for my banker. And that’s + the way, old pal, that I’m able to flourish and be jolly all day + long, as pleased as Punch to have left my old grinder of a master, M. + Tripeaud.” + </p> + <p> + As he pronounced this name, the joyous countenance of Jacques became + suddenly overcast. Cephyse, no longer under the influence of the painful + impression she had felt for a moment, looked uneasily at Jacques, for she + knew the irritation which the name of M. Tripeaud produced within him. + </p> + <p> + “M. Tripeaud,” resumed Sleepinbuff, “is one that would + make the good bad, and the bad worse. They say that a good rider makes a + good horse; they ought to say that a good master makes a good workman. + Zounds! when I think of that fellow!” cried Sleepinbuff, striking + his hand violently on the table. + </p> + <p> + “Come, Jacques—think of something else!” said the + Bacchanal Queen. “Make him laugh, Rose-Pompon.” + </p> + <p> + “I am not in a humor to laugh,” replied Jacques, abruptly, for + he was getting excited from the effects of the wine; “it is more + than I can bear to think of that man. It exasperates me! it drives me mad! + You should have heard him saying: ‘Beggarly workmen! rascally + workmen! they grumble that they have no food in their bellies; well, then, + we’ll give them bayonets to stop their hunger.‘(11) And there’s + the children in his factory—you should see them, poor little + creatures!—working as long as the men—wasting away, and dying + by the dozen—what odds? as soon as they were dead plenty of others + came to take their places—not like horses, which can only be + replaced with money.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, it is clear, that you do not like your old master,” + said Dumoulin, more and more surprised at his Amphitryon’s gloomy + and thoughtful air, and, regretting that the conversation had taken this + serious turn, he whispered a few words in the ear of the Bacchanal Queen, + who answered by a sign of intelligence. + </p> + <p> + “I don’t like M. Tripeaud!” exclaimed Jacques. “I + hate him—and shall I tell you why? Because it is as much his fault + as mine, that I have become a good-for-nothing loafer. I don’t say + it to screen myself; but it is the truth. When I was ‘prenticed to + him as a lad, I was all heart and ardor, and so bent upon work, that I + used to take my shirt off to my task, which, by the way, was the reason + that I was first called Sleepinbuff. Well! I might have toiled myself to + death; not one word of encouragement did I receive. I came first to my + work, and was the last to leave off; what matter? it was not even noticed. + One day, I was injured by the machinery. I was taken to the hospital. When + I came out, weak as I was, I went straight to my work; I was not to be + frightened; the others, who knew their master well, would often say to me: + ‘What a muff you must be, little one! What good will you get by + working so hard?’—still I went on. But, one day, a worthy old + man, called Father Arsene, who had worked in the house many years, and was + a model of good conduct, was suddenly turned away, because he was getting + too feeble. It was a death-blow to him; his wife was infirm, and, at his + age, he could not get another place. When the foreman told him he was + dismissed, he could not believe it, and he began to cry for grief. At that + moment, M. Tripeaud passes; Father Arsene begs him with clasped hands to + keep him at half-wages. ‘What!’ says M. Tripeaud, shrugging + his shoulders; ‘do you think that I will turn my factory into a + house of invalids? You are no longer able to work—so be off!’ + ‘But I have worked forty years of my life; what is to become of me?’ + cried poor Father Arsene. ‘That is not my business,’ answered + M. Tripeaud; and, addressing his clerk, he added: ‘Pay what is due + for the week, and let him cut his stick.’ Father Arsene did cut his + stick; that evening, he and his old wife suffocated themselves with + charcoal. Now, you see, I was then a lad; but that story of Father Arsene + taught me, that, however hard you might work, it would only profit your + master, who would not even thank you for it, and leave you to die on the + flags in your old age. So all my fire was damped, and I said to myself: + ‘What’s the use of doing more than I just need? If I gain + heaps of gold for M. Tripeaud, shall I get an atom of it?’ + Therefore, finding neither pride nor profit in my work, I took a disgust + for it—just did barely enough to earn my wages—became an idler + and a rake—and said to myself: ‘When I get too tired of labor, + I can always follow the example of Father Arsene and his wife.”’ + </p> + <p> + Whilst Jacques resigned himself to the current of these bitter thoughts, + the other guests, incited by the expressive pantomime of Dumoulin and the + Bacchanal Queen, had tacitly agreed together; and, on a signal from the + Queen, who leaped upon the table, and threw down the bottles and glasses + with her foot, all rose and shouted, with the accompaniment of Ninny + Moulin’s rattle “The storm blown Tulip! the quadrille of the + Storm-blown Tulip!” + </p> + <p> + At these joyous cries, which burst suddenly, like shell, Jacques started; + then gazing with astonishment at his guests, he drew his hand across his + brow, as if to chase away the painful ideas that oppressed him, and + exclaimed: “You are right. Forward the first couple! Let us be + merry!” + </p> + <p> + In a moment, the table, lifted by vigorous arms, was removed to the + extremity of the banqueting-room; the spectators, mounted upon chairs, + benches, and window-ledges, began to sing in chorus the well-known air of + les Etudiants, so as to serve instead of orchestra, and accompany the + quadrille formed by Sleepinbuff, the Queen, Ninny Moulin, and Rose Pompon. + </p> + <p> + Dumoulin, having entrusted his rattle to one of the guests, resumed his + extravagant Roman helmet and plume; he had taken off his great-coat at the + commencement of the feast, so that he now appeared in all the splendor of + his costume. His cuirass of bright scales ended in a tunic of feathers, + not unlike those worn by the savages, who form the oxen’s escort on + Mardi Gras. Ninny Moulin had a huge paunch and thin legs, so that the + latter moved about at pleasure in the gaping mouths of his large top + boots. + </p> + <p> + Little Rose-Pompon, with her pinched-up cocked-hat stuck on one side, her + hands in the pockets of her trousers, her bust a little inclined forward, + and undulating from right to left, advanced to meet Ninny-Moulin; the + latter danced, or rather leaped towards her, his left leg bent under him, + his right leg stretched forward, with the toe raised, and the heel gliding + on the floor; moreover, he struck his neck with his left hand, and by a + simultaneous movement, stretched forth his right, as if he would have + thrown dust in the eyes of his opposite partner. + </p> + <p> + This first figure met with great success, and the applause was vociferous, + though it was only the innocent prelude to the step of the Storm-blown + Tulip—when suddenly the door opened, and one of the waiters, after + looking about for an instant, in search of Sleepinbuff, ran to him, and + whispered some words in his ear. + </p> + <p> + “Me!” cried Jacques, laughing; “here’s a go!” + </p> + <p> + The waiter added a few more words, when Sleepinbuff’s face assumed + an expression of uneasiness, as he answered. “Very well! I come + directly,”—and he made a step towards the door. + </p> + <p> + “What’s the matter, Jacques?” asked the Bacchanal Queen, + in some surprise. + </p> + <p> + “I’ll be back immediately. Some one take my place. Go on with + the dance,” said Sleepinbuff, as he hastily left the room. + </p> + <p> + “Something, that was not put down in the bill,” said Dumoulin; + “he will soon be back.” + </p> + <p> + “That’s it,” said Cephyse. “Now cavalier suel!” + she added, as she took Jacques’s place, and the dance continued. + </p> + <p> + Ninny Moulin had just taken hold of Rose Pompon with his right hand, and + of the Queen with his left, in order to advance between the two, in which + figure he showed off his buffoonery to the utmost extent, when the door + again opened, and the same waiter, who had called out Jacques, approached + Cephyse with an air of consternation, and whispered in her ear, as he had + before done to Sleepinbuff. + </p> + <p> + The Bacchanal Queen grew pale, uttered a piercing scream, and rushed out + of the room without a word, leaving her guests in stupefaction. + </p> + <p> + (11) These atrocious words were actually spoken during the Lyons Riots. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0057" id="link2HCH0057"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER IV. THE FAREWELL + </h2> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>he Bacchanal + Queen, following the waiter, arrived at the bottom of the staircase. A + coach was standing before the door of the house. In it she saw + Sleepinbuff, with one of the men who, two hours before, had been waiting + on the Place du Chatelet. + </p> + <p> + On the arrival of Cephyse, the man got down, and said to Jacques, as he + drew out his watch: “I give you a quarter of an hour; it is all that + I can do for you, my good fellow; after that we must start. Do not try to + escape, for we’ll be watching at the coach doors.” + </p> + <p> + With one spring, Cephyse was in the coach. Too much overcome to speak + before, she now exclaimed, as she took her seat by Jacques, and remarked + the paleness of his countenance: “What is it? What do they want with + you?” + </p> + <p> + “I am arrested for debt,” said Jacques, in a mournful voice. + </p> + <p> + “You!” exclaimed Cephyse, with a heart-rending sob. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, for that bill, or guarantee, they made me sign. And yet the + man said it was only a form—the rascal!” + </p> + <p> + “But you have money in his hands; let him take that on account.” + </p> + <p> + “I have not a copper; he sends me word by the bailiff, that not + having paid the bill, I shall not have the last thousand francs.” + </p> + <p> + “Then let us go to him, and entreat him to leave you at liberty. It + was he who came to propose to lend you this money. I know it well, as he + first addressed himself to me. He will have pity on you.” + </p> + <p> + “Pity?—a money broker pity? No! no!” + </p> + <p> + “Is there then no hope? none?” cried Cephyse clasping her + hands in anguish. “But there must be something done,” she + resumed. “He promised you!” + </p> + <p> + “You can see how he keeps his promises,” answered Jacques, + with bitterness. “I signed, without even knowing what I signed. The + bill is over-due; everything is in order, it would be vain to resist. They + have just explained all that to me.” + </p> + <p> + “But they cannot keep you long in prison. It is impossible.” + </p> + <p> + “Five years, if I do not pay. As I’ll never be able to do so, + my fate is certain.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! what a misfortune! and not to be able to do anything!” + said Cephyse, hiding her face in her hands. + </p> + <p> + “Listen to me, Cephyse,” resumed Jacques, in a voice of + mournful emotion; “since I am here, I have thought only of one thing—what + is to become of you?” + </p> + <p> + “Never mind me!” + </p> + <p> + “Not mind you?—art mad? What will you do? The furniture of our + two rooms is not worth two hundred francs. We have squandered our money so + foolishly, that we have not even paid our rent. We owe three quarters, and + we must not therefore count upon the furniture. I leave you without a + coin. At least I shall be fed in prison—but how will you manage to + live? + </p> + <p> + “What is the use of grieving beforehand?” + </p> + <p> + “I ask you how you will live to-morrow?” cried Jacques. + </p> + <p> + “I will sell my costume, and some other clothes. I will send you + half the money, and keep the rest. That will last some days.” + </p> + <p> + “And afterwards?—afterwards?” + </p> + <p> + “Afterwards?—why, then—I don’t know—how can + I tell you! Afterwards—I’ll look about me.” + </p> + <p> + “Hear me, Cephyse,” resumed Jacques, with bitter agony. + “It is now that I first know how mach I love you. My heart is + pressed as in a vise at the thought of leaving you and I shudder to thinly + what is to become of you.” Then—drawing his hand across his + forehead, Jacques added: “You see we have been ruined by saying—‘To-morrow + will never come!’—for to morrow has come. When I am no longer + with you, and you have spent the last penny of the money gained by the + sale of your clothes—unfit for work as you have become—what + will you do next? Must I tell you what you will do!—you will forget + me and—” Then, as if he recoiled from his own thoughts, + Jacques exclaimed, with a burst of rage and despair—“Great + Heaven! if that were to happen, I should dash my brains out against the + stones!” + </p> + <p> + Cephyse guessed the half-told meaning of Jacques, and throwing her arms + around his neck, she said to him: “I take another lover?—never! + I am like you, for I now first know how much I love you.” + </p> + <p> + “But, my poor Cephyse—how will you live?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I shall take courage. I will go back and dwell, with my + sister, as in old times; we will work together, and so earn our bread. I’ll + never go out, except to visit you. In a few days your creditor will + reflect, that, as you can’t pay him ten thousand francs, he may as + well set you free. By that time I shall have once more acquired the habit + of working. You shall see, you shall see!—and you also will again + acquire this habit. We shall live poor, but content. After all, we have + had plenty of amusement for six month, while so many others have never + known pleasure all their lives. And believe me, my dear Jacques, when I + say to you—I shall profit by this lesson. If you love me, do not + feel the least uneasiness; I tell you, that I would rather die a hundred + times, than have another lover.” + </p> + <p> + “Kiss me,” said Jacques, with eyes full of tears. “I + believe you—yes, I believe you—and you give me back my + courage, both for now and hereafter. You are right; we must try and get to + work again, or else nothing remains but Father Arsene’s bushel of + charcoal; for, my girl,” added Jacques, in a low and trembling + voice, “I have been like a drunken man these six months, and now I + am getting sober, and see whither we are going. Our means once exhausted, + I might perhaps have become a robber, and you—” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Jacques! don’t talk so—it is frightful,” + interrupted Cephyse; “I swear to you that I will return to my sister—that + I will work—that I will have courage!” + </p> + <p> + Thus saying, the Bacchanal Queen was very sincere; she fully intended to + keep her word, for her heart was not yet completely corrupted. Misery and + want had been with her, as with so many others, the cause and the excuse + of her worst errors. Until now, she had at least followed the instincts of + her heart, without regard to any base or venal motive. The cruel position + in which she beheld Jacques had so far exalted her love, that she believed + herself capable of resuming, along with Mother Bunch, that life of sterile + and incessant toil, full of painful sacrifices and privations, which once + had been impossible for her to bear, and which the habits of a life of + leisure and dissipation would now render still more difficult. + </p> + <p> + Still, the assurances which she had just given Jacques calmed his grief + and anxiety a little; he had sense and feeling enough to perceive that the + fatal track which he had hitherto so blindly followed was leading both him + and Cephyse directly to infamy. + </p> + <p> + One of the bailiffs, having knocked at the coach-door, said to Jacques: + “My lad, you have only five minutes left—so make haste.” + </p> + <p> + “So, courage, my girl—courage!” said Jacques. + </p> + <p> + “I will; you may rely upon me.” + </p> + <p> + “Are you going upstairs again?” + </p> + <p> + “No—oh no!” said Cephyse. “I have now a horror of + this festivity.” + </p> + <p> + “Everything is paid for, and the waiter will tell them not to expect + us back. They will be much astonished,” continued Jacques, “but + it’s all the same now.” + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:65%;"> + <img src="images/20053m.jpg" alt="20053m” width=" /><br /> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/20053.jpg"><i>Original</i></a> + </h5> + <p> + “If you could only go with me to our lodging,” said Cephyse, + “this man would perhaps permit it, so as not to enter Sainte-Pelagie + in that dress.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! he will not forbid you to accompany me; but, as he will be with + us in the coach, we shall not be able to talk freely in his presence. + Therefore, let me speak reason to you for the first time in my life. + Remember what I say, my dear Cephyse—and the counsel will apply to + me as well as to yourself,” continued Jacques, in a grave and + feeling tone—“resume from to-day the habit of labor. It may be + painful, unprofitable—never mind—do not hesitate, for too soon + will the influence of this lesson be forgotten. By-and-bye it will be too + late, and then you will end like so many unfortunate creatures—” + </p> + <p> + “I understand,” said Cephyse, blushing; “but I will + rather die than lead such a life.” + </p> + <p> + “And there you will do well—for in that case,” added + Jacques, in a deep and hollow voice, “I will myself show you how to + die.” + </p> + <p> + “I count upon you, Jacques,” answered Cephyse, embracing her + lover with excited feeling; then she added, sorrowfully: “It was a + kind of presentiment, when just now I felt so sad, without knowing why, in + the midst of all our gayety—and drank to the Cholera, so that we + might die together.” + </p> + <p> + “Well! perhaps the Cholera will come,” resumed Jacques, with a + gloomy air; “that would save us the charcoal, which we may not even + be able to buy.” + </p> + <p> + “I can only tell you one thing, Jacques, that to live and die + together, you will always find me ready.” + </p> + <p> + “Come, dry your eyes,” said he, with profound emotion. “Do + not let us play the children before these men.” + </p> + <p> + Some minutes after, the coach took the direction to Jacques’s + lodging, where he was to change his clothes, before proceeding to the + debtors’ prison. + </p> + <p> + Let us repeat, with regard to the hunchback’s sister—for there + are things which cannot be too often repeated—that one of the most + fatal consequences of the Inorganization of Labor is the Insufficiency of + Wages. + </p> + <p> + The insufficiency of wages forces inevitably the greater number of young + girls, thus badly paid, to seek their means of subsistence in connections + which deprave them. + </p> + <p> + Sometimes they receive a small allowance from their lovers, which, joined + to the produce of their labor, enables them to live. Sometimes like the + sempstress’s sister, they throw aside their work altogether, and + take up their abode with the man of their choice, should he be able to + support the expense. It is during this season of pleasure and idleness + that the incurable leprosy of sloth takes lasting possession of these + unfortunate creatures. + </p> + <p> + This is the first phase of degradation that the guilty carelessness of + Society imposes on an immense number of workwomen, born with instincts of + modesty, and honesty, and uprightness. + </p> + <p> + After a certain time they are deserted by their seducers—perhaps + when they are mothers. Or, it may be, that foolish extravagance consigns + the imprudent lover to prison, and the young girl finds herself alone, + abandoned, without the means of subsistence. + </p> + <p> + Those who have still preserved courage and energy go back to their work—but + the examples are very rare. The others, impelled by misery, and by habits + of indolence, fall into the lowest depths. + </p> + <p> + And yet we must pity, rather than blame them, for the first and virtual + cause of their fall has been the insufficient remuneration of labor and + sudden reduction of pay. + </p> + <p> + Another deplorable consequence of this inorganization is the disgust which + workmen feel for their employment, in addition to the insufficiency of + their wages. And this is quite conceivable, for nothing is done to render + their labor attractive, either by variety of occupations, or by honorary + rewards, or by proper care, or by remuneration proportionate to the + benefits which their toil provides, or by the hope of rest after long + years of industry. No—the country thinks not, cares not, either for + their wants or their rights. + </p> + <p> + And yet, to take only one example, machinists and workers in foundries, + exposed to boiler explosions, and the contact of formidable engines, run + every day greater dangers than soldiers in time of war, display rare + practical sagacity, and render to industry—and, consequently, to + their country—the most incontestable service, during a long and + honorable career, if they do not perish by the bursting of a boiler, or + have not their limbs crushed by the iron teeth of a machine. + </p> + <p> + In this last case, does the workman receive a recompense equal to that + which awaits the soldier’s praiseworthy, but sterile courage—a + place in an asylum for invalids? No. + </p> + <p> + What does the country care about it? And if the master should happen to be + ungrateful, the mutilated workman, incapable of further service, may die + of want in some corner. + </p> + <p> + Finally, in our pompous festivals of commerce, do we ever assemble any of + the skillful workmen who alone have woven those admirable stuffs, forged + and damascened those shining weapons, chiselled those goblets of gold and + silver, carved the wood and ivory of that costly furniture, and set those + dazzling jewels with such exquisite art? No. + </p> + <p> + In the obscurity of their garrets, in the midst of a miserable and + starving family, hardly able to subsist on their scanty wages, these + workmen have contributed, at least, one half to bestow those wonders upon + their country, which make its wealth, its glory, and its pride. + </p> + <p> + A minister of commerce, who had the least intelligence of his high + functions and duties, would require of every factory that exhibits on + these occasions, the selection by vote of a certain number of candidates, + amongst whom the manufacturer would point out the one that appeared most + worthy to represent the working classes in these great industrial + solemnities. + </p> + <p> + Would it not be a noble and encouraging example to see the master propose + for public recompense and distinction the workman, deputed by his peers, + as amongst the most honest, laborious, and intelligent of his profession? + Then one most grievous injustice would disappear, and the virtues of the + workman would be stimulated by a generous and noble ambition—he + would have an interest in doing well. + </p> + <p> + Doubtless, the manufacturer himself, because of the intelligence he + displays, the capital he risks, the establishment he founds, and the good + he sometimes does, has a legitimate right to the prizes bestowed upon him. + But why is the workman to be rigorously excluded from these rewards, which + have so powerful an influence upon the people? Are generals and officers + the only ones that receive rewards in the army? And when we have + remunerated the captains of this great and powerful army of industry, why + should we neglect the privates? + </p> + <p> + Why for them is there no sign of public gratitude? no kind or consoling + word from august lips? Why do we not see in France, a single workman + wearing a medal as a reward for his courageous industry, his long and + laborious career? The token and the little pension attached to it, would + be to him a double recompense, justly deserved. But, no! for humble labor + that sustains the State, there is only forgetfulness, injustice, + indifference, and disdain! + </p> + <p> + By this neglect of the public, often aggravated by individual selfishness + and ingratitude, our workmen are placed in a deplorable situation. + </p> + <p> + Some of them, notwithstanding their incessant toil, lead a life of + privations, and die before their time cursing the social system that rides + over them. Others find a temporary oblivion of their ills in destructive + intoxication. Others again—in great number—having no interest, + no advantage, no moral or physical inducement to do more or better, + confine themselves strictly to just that amount of labor which will + suffice to earn their wages. Nothing attaches them to their work, because + nothing elevates, honors, glorifies it in their eyes. They have no defence + against the reductions of indolence; and if, by some chance, they find + means of living awhile in repose, they give way by degrees to habits of + laziness and debauchery, and sometimes the worst passions soil forever + natures originally willing, healthy and honest—and all for want of + that protecting and equitable superintendence which should have sustained, + encouraged, and recompensed their first worthy and laborious tendencies. + </p> + <p> + We now follow Mother Bunch, who after seeking for work from the person + that usually employed her, went to the Rue de Babylone, to the lodge + lately occupied by Adrienne de Cardoville. + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:65%;"> + <img src="images/20057m.jpg" alt="20057m” width=" /><br /> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/20057.jpg"><i>Original</i></a> + </h5> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0058" id="link2HCH0058"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER V. FLORINE. + </h2> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">W</span>hile the Bacchanal + Queen and Sleepinbuff terminated so sadly the most joyous portion of their + existence, the sempstress arrived at the door of the summer-house in the + Rue de Babylone. + </p> + <p> + Before ringing she dried her tears; a new grief weighed upon her spirits. + On quitting the tavern, she had gone to the house of the person who + usually found her in work; but she was told that she could not have any + because it could be done a third more cheaply by women in prison. Mother + Bunch, rather than lose her last resource, offered to take it at the third + less; but the linen had been already sent out; and the girl could not hope + for employment for a fortnight to come, even if submitting to this + reduction of wages. One may conceive the anguish of the poor creature; the + prospect before her was to die of hunger, if she would not beg or steal. + As for her visit to the lodge in the Rue de Babylone, it will be explained + presently. + </p> + <p> + She rang the bell timidly; a few minutes after, Florine opened the door to + her. The waiting-maid was no longer adorned after the charming taste of + Adrienne; on the contrary, she was dressed with an affectation of austere + simplicity. She wore a high-necked dress of a dark color, made full enough + to conceal the light elegance of her figure. Her bands of jet-black hair + were hardly visible beneath the flat border of a starched white cap, very + much resembling the head-dress of a nun. Yet, in spite of this + unornamental costume, Florine’s pale countenance was still admirably + beautiful. + </p> + <p> + We have said that, placed by former misconduct at the mercy of Rodin and + M. d’Aigrigny, Florine had served them as a spy upon her mistress, + notwithstanding the marks of kindness and confidence she had received from + her. Yet Florine was not entirely corrupted; and she often suffered + painful, but vain, remorse at the thought of the infamous part she was + thus obliged to perform. + </p> + <p> + At the sight of Mother Bunch, whom she recognized—for she had told + her, the day before, of Agricola’s arrest and Mdlle. de Cardoville’s + madness—Florine recoiled a step, so much was she moved with pity at + the appearance of the young sempstress. In fact, the idea of being thrown + out of work, in the midst of so many other painful circumstances, had made + a terrible impression upon the young workwoman, the traces of recent tears + furrowed her cheeks—without her knowing it, her features expressed + the deepest despair—and she appeared so exhausted, so weak, so + overcome, that Florine offered her arm to support her, and said to her + kindly: “Pray walk in and rest yourself; you are very pale, and seem + to be ill and fatigued.” + </p> + <p> + So saying, Florine led her into a small room; with fireplace and carpet, + and made her sit down in a tapestried armchair by the side of a good fire. + Georgette and Hebe had been dismissed, and Florine was left alone in care + of the house. + </p> + <p> + When her guest was seated, Florine said to her with an air of interest: + “Will you not take anything? A little orange flower-water and sugar, + warm.” + </p> + <p> + “I thank you, mademoiselle,” said Mother Bunch, with emotion, + so easily was her gratitude excited by the least mark of kindness; she + felt, too, a pleasing surprise, that her poor garments had not been the + cause of repugnance or disdain on the part of Florine. + </p> + <p> + “I thank you, mademoiselle,” said she, “but I only + require a little rest, for I come from a great distance. If you will + permit me—” + </p> + <p> + “Pray rest yourself as long as you like, mademoiselle; I am alone in + this pavilion since the departure of my poor mistress,”—here + Florine blushed and sighed;—“so, pray make yourself quite at + home. Draw near the fire—you wilt be more comfortable—and, + gracious! how wet your feet are!—place them upon this stool.” + </p> + <p> + The cordial reception given by Florine, her handsome face and agreeable + manners, which were not those of an ordinary waiting-maid, forcibly struck + Mother Bunch, who, notwithstanding her humble condition, was peculiarly + susceptible to the influence of everything graceful and delicate. + Yielding, therefore, to these attractions, the young sempstress, generally + so timid and sensitive, felt herself almost at her ease with Florine. + </p> + <p> + “How obliging you are, mademoiselle!” said she in a grateful + tone. “I am quite confused with your kindness.” + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:65%;"> + <img src="images/20061m.jpg" alt="20061m” width=" /><br /> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/20061.jpg"><i>Original</i></a> + </h5> + <p> + “I wish I could do you some greater service than offer you a place + at the fire, mademoiselle. Your appearance is so good and interesting.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, mademoiselle!” said the other, with simplicity, almost in + spite of herself; “it does one so much good to sit by a warm fire!” + Then, fearing, in her extreme delicacy, that she might be thought capable + of abusing the hospitality of her entertainer, by unreasonably prolonging + her visit, she added: “the motive that has brought me here is this. + Yesterday, you informed me that a young workman, named Agricola Baudoin, + had been arrested in this house.” + </p> + <p> + “Alas! yes, mademoiselle. At the moment, too, when my poor mistress + was about to render him assistance.” + </p> + <p> + “I am Agricola’s adopted sister,” resumed Mother Bunch, + with a slight blush; “he wrote to me yesterday evening from prison. + He begged me to tell his father to come here as soon as possible, in order + to inform Mdlle. de Cardoville that he, Agricola, had important matters to + communicate to her, or to any person that she might send; but that he + could not venture to mention them in a letter, as he did not know if the + correspondence of prisoners might not be read by the governor of the + prison.” + </p> + <p> + “What!” said Florine, with surprise; “to my mistress, M. + Agricola has something of importance to communicate?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, mademoiselle; for, up to this time, Agricola is ignorant of + the great calamity that has befallen Mdlle. de Cardoville.” + </p> + <p> + “True; the attack was indeed so sudden,” said Florine, casting + down her eyes, “that no one could have foreseen it.” + </p> + <p> + “It must have been so,” answered Mother Bunch; “for, + when Agricola saw Mdlle. de Cardoville for the first time, he returned + home, struck with her grace, and delicacy, and goodness.” + </p> + <p> + “As were all who approached my mistress,” said Florine, + sorrowfully. + </p> + <p> + “This morning,” resumed the sewing-girl, “when, + according to Agricola’s instructions, I wished to speak to his + father on the subject, I found him already gone out, for he also is a prey + to great anxieties; but my adopted brother’s letter appeared to me + so pressing, and to involve something of such consequence to Mdlle. de + Cardoville, who had shown herself so generous towards him, that I came + here immediately.” + </p> + <p> + “Unfortunately, as you already know, my mistress is no longer here.” + </p> + <p> + “But is there no member of her family to whom, if I could not speak + myself, I might at least send word by you, that Agricola has something to + communicate of importance to this young lady?” + </p> + <p> + “It is strange!” said Florine, reflecting, and without + replying. Then, turning towards the sempstress, she added: “You are + quite ignorant of the nature of these revelations?” + </p> + <p> + “Completely so, mademoiselle; but I know Agricola. He is all honor + and truth, and you may believe whatever he affirms. Besides, he would have + no interest—” + </p> + <p> + “Good gracious!” interrupted Florine, suddenly, as if struck + with a sadden light; “I have just remembered something. When he was + arrested in a hiding-place where my mistress had concealed him, I happened + to be close at hand, and M. Agricola said to me, in a quick whisper: + ‘Tell your generous mistress that her goodness to me will not go + unrewarded, and that my stay in that hiding-place may not be useless to + her.’ That was all he could say to me, for they hurried him off + instantly. I confess that I saw in those words only the expression of his + gratitude, and his hope of proving it one day to my mistress; but now that + I connect them with the letter he has written you—” said + Florine, reflecting. + </p> + <p> + “Indeed!” remarked Mother Bunch, “there is certainly + some connection between his hiding-place here and the important secrets + which he wishes to communicate to your mistress, or one of her family.” + </p> + <p> + “The hiding-place had neither been inhabited nor visited for some + time,” said Florine, with a thoughtful air; “M. Agricola may + have found therein something of interest to my mistress.” + </p> + <p> + “If his letter had not appeared to me so pressing,” resumed + the other, “I should not have come hither; but have left him to do + so himself, on his release from prison, which now, thanks to the + generosity of one of his old fellow-workmen, cannot be very distant. But, + not knowing if bail would be accepted to-day, I have wished faithfully to + perform his instructions. The generous kindness of your mistress made it + my first duty.” + </p> + <p> + Like all persons whose better instincts are still roused from time to + time, Florine felt a sort of consolation in doing good whenever she could + with impunity—that is to say, without exposing herself to the + inexorable resentments of those on whom she depended. Thanks to Mother + Bunch, she might now have an opportunity of rendering a great service to + her mistress. She knew enough of the Princess de Saint-Dizier’s + hatred of her niece, to feel certain that Agricola’s communication + could not, from its very importance, be made with safety to any but Mdlle. + de Cardoville herself. She therefore said very gravely: “Listen to + me, mademoiselle! I will give you a piece of advice which will, I think, + be useful to my poor mistress—but which would be very fatal to me if + you did not attend to my recommendations.” + </p> + <p> + “How so, mademoiselle?” said the hunchback, looking at Florine + with extreme surprise. + </p> + <p> + “For the sake of my mistress, M. Agricola must confide to no one, + except herself, the important things he has to communicate.” + </p> + <p> + “But, if he cannot see Mdlle. Adrienne, may he not address himself + to some of her family?” + </p> + <p> + “It is from her family, above all, that he must conceal whatever he + knows. Mdlle. Adrienne may recover, and then M. Agricola can speak to her. + But should she never get well again, tell your adopted brother that it is + better for him to keep his secret than to place it (which would infallibly + happen) at the disposal of the enemies of my mistress.” + </p> + <p> + “I understand you, mademoiselle,” said Mother Bunch, sadly. + “The family of your generous mistress do not love her, and perhaps + persecute her?” + </p> + <p> + “I cannot tell you more on this subject now; and, as regards myself, + let me conjure you to obtain M. Agricola’s promise that he will not + mention to any one in the world the step you have taken, or the advice I + have given you. The happiness—no, not the happiness,” resumed + Florine bitterly, as if that were a lost hope, “not the happiness—but + the peace of my life depends upon your discretion.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! be satisfied!” said the sewing-girl, both affected and + amazed by the sorrowful expression of Florine’s countenance; “I + will not be ungrateful. No one in the world but Agricola shall know that I + have seen you.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you—thank you, mademoiselle,” cried Florine, with + emotion. + </p> + <p> + “Do you thank me?” said the other, astonished to see the large + tears roll down her cheeks. + </p> + <p> + “Yes! I am indebted to you for a moment of pure, unmixed happiness; + for I have perhaps rendered a service to my dear mistress, without risking + the increase of the troubles that already overwhelm me.” + </p> + <p> + “You are not happy, then?” + </p> + <p> + “That astonishes you; but, believe me, whatever may be, your fate, I + would gladly change with you.” + </p> + <p> + “Alas, mademoiselle!” said the sempstress: “you appear + to have too good a heart, for me to let you entertain such a wish—particularly + now.” + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean?” + </p> + <p> + “I hope sincerely, mademoiselle,” proceeded Mother Bunch, with + deep sadness, “that you may never know what it is to want work, when + labor is your only resource.” + </p> + <p> + “Are you reduced to that extremity?” cried Florine, looking + anxiously at the young sempstress, who hung her head, and made no answer. + She reproached herself, in her excessive delicacy, with having made a + communication which resembled a complaint, though it had only been wrung + from her by the thought of her dreadful situation. + </p> + <p> + “If it is so,” went on Florine, “I pity you with all my + heart; and yet I know not, if my misfortunes are not still greater than + yours.” + </p> + <p> + Then, after a moment’s reflection, Florine exclaimed, suddenly: + “But let me see! If you are really in that position, I think I can + procure you some work.” + </p> + <p> + “Is it possible, mademoiselle?” cried Mother Bunch. “I + should never have dared to ask you such a service; but your generous offer + commands my confidence, and may save me from destruction. I will confess + to you, that, only this morning, I was thrown out of an employment which + enabled me to earn four francs a week.” + </p> + <p> + “Four francs a week!” exclaimed Florine, hardly able to + believe what she heard. + </p> + <p> + “It was little, doubtless,” replied the other; “but + enough for me. Unfortunately, the person who employed me, has found out + where it can be done still cheaper.” + </p> + <p> + “Four francs a week!” repeated Florine, deeply touched by so + much misery and resignation. “Well! I think I can introduce you to + persons, who will secure you wages of at least two francs a day.” + </p> + <p> + “I could earn two francs a day? Is it possible?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, there is no doubt of it; only, you will have to go out by the + day, unless you chose to take a pace as servant.” + </p> + <p> + “In my position,” said Mother Bunch, with a mixture of + timidity and pride, “one has no right, I know, to be overnice; yet I + should prefer to go out by the day, and still more to remain at home, if + possible, even though I were to gain less.” + </p> + <p> + “To go out is unfortunately an indispensable condition,” said + Florine. + </p> + <p> + “Then I must renounce this hope,” answered Mother Bunch, + timidly; “not that I refuse to go out to work—but those who do + so, are expected to be decently clad—and I confess without shame, + because there is no disgrace in honest poverty, that I have no better + clothes than these.” + </p> + <p> + “If that be all,” said Florine, hastily, “they will find + you the means of dressing yourself properly.” + </p> + <p> + Mother Bunch looked at Florine with increasing surprise. These offers were + so much above what she could have hoped, and what indeed was generally + earned by needlewomen, that she could hardly credit them. + </p> + <p> + “But,” resumed she, with hesitation, “why should any one + be so generous to me, mademoiselle? How should I deserve such high wages?” + </p> + <p> + Florine started. A natural impulse of the heart, a desire to be useful to + the sempstress, whose mildness and resignation greatly interested her, had + led her to make a hasty proposition; she knew at what price would have to + be purchased the advantages she proposed, and she now asked herself, if + the hunchback would ever accept them on such terms. But Florine had gone + too far to recede, and she durst not tell all. She resolved, therefore, to + leave the future to chance and as those, who have themselves fallen, are + little disposed to believe in the infallibility of others, Florine said to + herself, that perhaps in the desperate position in which she was, Mother + Bunch would not be so scrupulous after all. Therefore she said: “I + see, mademoiselle, that you are astonished at offers so much above what + you usually gain; but I must tell you, that I am now speaking of a pious + institution, founded to procure work for deserving young women. This + establishment, which is called St. Mary’s Society, undertakes to + place them out as servants, or by the day as needlewomen. Now this + institution is managed by such charitable persons, that they themselves + undertake to supply an outfit, when the young women, received under their + protection are not sufficiently well clothed to accept the places destined + for them.” + </p> + <p> + This plausible explanation of Florine’s magnificent offers appeared + to satisfy the hearer. “I can now understand the high wages of which + you speak, mademoiselle,” resumed she; “only I have no claim + to be patronized by the charitable persons who direct this establishment.” + </p> + <p> + “You suffer—you are laborious and honest—those are + sufficient claims; only, I must tell you, they will ask if you perform + regularly your religious duties.” + </p> + <p> + “No one loves and blesses God more fervently than I do, + mademoiselle,” said the hunchback, with mild firmness; “but + certain duties are an affair of conscience, and I would rather renounce + this patronage, than be compelled—” + </p> + <p> + “Not the least in the world. Only, as I told you, there are very + pious persons at the head of this institution, and you must not be + astonished at their questions on such a subject. Make the trial, at all + events; what do you risk? If the propositions are suitable—accept + them; if, on the contrary, they should appear to touch your liberty of + conscience, you can always refuse—your position will not be the + worse for it.” + </p> + <p> + Mother Bunch had nothing to object to this reasoning which left her at + perfect freedom, and disarmed her of all suspicion. “On these terms, + mademoiselle,” said she, “I accept your offer, and thank you + with all my heart. But who will introduce me?” + </p> + <p> + “I will—to-morrow, if you please.” + </p> + <p> + “But they will perhaps desire to make some inquiries about me.” + </p> + <p> + “The venerable Mother Sainte-Perpetue, Superior of St, Mary’s + Convent, where the institution is established, will, I am sure, appreciate + your good qualities without inquiry; but if otherwise, she will tell you, + and you can easily satisfy her. It is then agreed—to-morrow.” + </p> + <p> + “Shall I call upon you here, mademoiselle?” + </p> + <p> + “No; as I told you before, they must not know that you came here on + the part of M. Agricola, and a second visit might be discovered, and + excite suspicion. I will come and fetch you in a coach; where do you live?” + </p> + <p> + “At No. 3, Rue Brise-Miche; as you are pleased to give yourself so + much trouble, mademoiselle, you have only to ask the dyer, who acts as + porter, to call down Mother Bunch.” + </p> + <p> + “Mother Bunch?” said Florine, with surprise. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, mademoiselle,” answered the sempstress, with a sad + smile; “it is the name every one gives me. And you see,” added + the hunchback, unable to restrain a tear, “it is because of my + ridiculous infirmity, to which this name alludes, that I dread going out + to work among strangers, because there are so many people who laugh at + one, without knowing the pain they occasion. But,” continued she, + drying her eyes, “I have no choice, and must make up my mind to it.” + </p> + <p> + Florine, deeply affected, took the speaker’s hand, and said to her: + “Do not fear. Misfortunes like yours must inspire compassion, not + ridicule. May I not inquire for you by your real name?” + </p> + <p> + “It is Magdalen Soliveau; but I repeat, mademoiselle, that you had + better ask for Mother Bunch, as I am hardly known by any other name.” + </p> + <p> + “I will, then, be in the Rue Brise-Miche to-morrow, at twelve o’clock.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, mademoiselle! How can I ever requite your goodness?” + </p> + <p> + “Don’t speak of it: I only hope my interference may be of use + to you. But of this you must judge for yourself. As for M. Agricola, do + not answer his letter; wait till he is out of prison, and then tell him to + keep his secret till he can see my poor mistress.” + </p> + <p> + “And where is the dear young lady now?” + </p> + <p> + “I cannot tell you. I do not know where they took her, when she was + attacked with this frenzy. You will expect me to-morrow?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes—to-morrow,” said Mother Bunch. + </p> + <p> + The convent whither Florine was to conduct the hunchback contained the + daughters of Marshal Simon, and was next door to the lunatic asylum of Dr. + Baleinier, in which Adrienne de Cardoville was confined. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0059" id="link2HCH0059"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VI. MOTHER SAINTE-PERPETUE. + </h2> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">S</span>t. Mary’s + Convent, whither the daughters of Marshal Simon had been conveyed, was a + large old building, the vast garden of which was on the Boulevard de l’Hopital, + one of the most retired places in Paris, particularly at this period. The + following scenes took place on the 12th February, the eve of the fatal + day, on which the members of the family of Rennepont, the last descendants + of the sister of the Wandering Jew, were to meet together in the Rue St. + Francois. St. Mary’s Convent was a model of perfect regularity. A + superior council, composed of influential ecclesiastics, with Father d’Aigrigny + for president, and of women of great reputed piety, at the head of whom + was the Princess de Saint Dizier, frequently assembled in deliberation, to + consult on the means of extending and strengthening the secret and + powerful influence of this establishment, which had already made + remarkable progress. + </p> + <p> + Skillful combinations and deep foresight had presided at the foundation of + St. Mary’s Convent, which, in consequence of numerous donations, + possessed already real estate to a great extent, and was daily augmenting + its acquisitions. The religious community was only a pretext; but, thanks + to an extensive connection, kept up by means of the most decided members + of the ultramontane (i. e. high-church) party, a great number of rich + orphans were placed in the convent, there to receive a solid, austere, + religious education, very preferable, it was said, to the frivolous + instruction which might be had in the fashionable boarding schools, + infected by the corruption of the age. To widows also, and lone women who + happened moreover to be rich, the convent offered a sure asylum from the + dangers and temptations of the world; in this peaceful retreat, they + enjoyed a delightful calm, and secured their salvation, whilst surrounded + by the most tender and affectionate attentions. Nor was this all. Mother + Sainte-Perpetue, the superior of the convent, undertook in the name of the + institution to procure for the faithful, who wished to preserve the + interior of their houses from the depravity of the age, companions for + aged ladies, domestic servants, or needlewomen working by the day, all + selected persons whose morality could be warranted. Nothing would seem + more worthy of sympathy and encouragement than such an institution; but we + shall presently unveil the vast and dangerous network of intrigue + concealed under these charitable and holy appearances. The lady Superior, + Mother Sainte-Perpetue, was a tall woman of about forty years of age, clad + in a stuff dress of the Carmelite tan color, and wearing a long rosary at + her waist; a white cap tied under the chin, and a long black veil, closely + encircled her thin, sallow face. A number of deep wrinkles had impressed + their transverse furrows in her forehead of yellow ivory; her marked and + prominent nose was bent like the beak of a bird of prey; her black eye was + knowing and piercing; the expression of her countenance was at once + intelligent, cold and firm. + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:65%;"> + <img src="images/20069m.jpg" alt="20069m” width=" /><br /> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/20069.jpg"><i>Original</i></a> + </h5> + <p> + In the general management of the pecuniary affairs of the community, + Mother Sainte-Perpetue would have been a match for the most cunning + attorney. When women are possessed of what is called a talent for + business, and apply to it their keen penetration, their indefatigable + perseverance, their prudent dissimulation, and, above all, that quick and + exact insight, which is natural to them, the results are often prodigious. + To Mother Sainte-Perpetue, a woman of the coolest and strongest intellect, + the management of the vast transactions of the community was mere child’s + play. No one knew better how to purchase a depreciated property, to + restore it to its former value, and then sell it with advantage; the price + of stock, the rate of exchange, the current value of the shares in the + different companies, were all familiar to her; she had yet never been + known to make bad speculation, when the question was to invest any of the + funds which were given by pious souls for the purposes of the convent. She + had established in the house the utmost order and discipline, and, above + all, an extreme economy. The constant aim of all her efforts was to + enrich, not herself, but the community she directed; for the spirit of + association, when become a collective egotism, gives to corporations the + faults and vices of an individual. Thus a congregation may dote upon power + and money, just as a miser loves them for their own sake. But it is + chiefly with regard to estates that congregations act like a single man. + They dream of landed property; it is their fixed idea, their fruitful + monomania. They pursue it with their most sincere, and warm, and tender + wishes. + </p> + <p> + The first estate is to a rising little community what the wedding + trousseau is to a young bride, his first horse to a youth, his first + success to a poet, to a gay girl her first fifty-guinea shawl; because, + after all, in this material age, an estate gives a certain rank to a + society on the Religious Exchange, and has so much the more effect upon + the simple-minded, that all these partnerships in the work of salvation, + which end by becoming immensely rich, begin with modest poverty as social + stock-in-trade, and charity towards their neighbors as security reserve + fund. We may therefore imagine what bitter and ardent rivalry must exist + between the different congregations with regard to the various estates + that each can lay claim to; with what ineffable satisfaction the richer + society crushes the poorer beneath its inventory of houses, and farms and + paper securities! Envy and hateful jealousy, rendered still more irritable + by the leisure of a cloistered life, are the necessary consequences of + such a comparison; and yet nothing is less Christian—in the adorable + acceptation of that divine word—nothing has less in common with the + true, essential, and religiously social spirit of the gospel, than this + insatiable ardor to acquire wealth by every possible means—this + dangerous avidity, which is far from being atoned for, in the eyes of + public opinion, by a few paltry alms, bestowed in the narrow spirit of + exclusion and intolerance. + </p> + <p> + Mother Sainte-Perpetue was seated before a large cylindrical-fronted desk + in the centre of an apartment simply but comfortably furnished. An + excellent fire burned within the marble chimney, and a soft carpet covered + the floor. The superior, to whom all letters addressed to the sisters or + the boarders were every day delivered, had just been opening she first, + according to her acknowledged right, and carefully unsealing the second, + without their knowing it, according to a right that she ascribed to + herself, of course, with a view to the salvation of those dear creatures; + and partly, perhaps, a little to make herself acquainted with their + correspondence, for she also had imposed on herself the duty of reading + all letters that were sent from the convent, before they were put into the + post. The traces of this pious and innocent inquisition were easily + effaced, for the good mother possessed a whole arsenal of steel tools, + some very sharp, to cut the pager imperceptibly round the seal—others, + pretty little rods, to be slightly heated and rolled round the edge of the + seal, when the letter had been read and replaced in its envelope, so that + the wax, spreading as it melted, might cover the first incision. Moreover, + from a praiseworthy feeling of justice and equality, there was in the + arsenal of the good mother a little fumigator of the most ingenious + construction, the damp and dissolving vapor of which was reserved for the + letters humbly and modestly secured with wafers, thus softened, they + yielded to the least efforts, without any tearing of the paper. According + to the importance of the revelations, which she thus gleaned from the + writers of the letters, the superior took notes more or less extensive. + She was interrupted in this investigation by two gentle taps at the bolted + door. Mother Sainte-Perpetue immediately let down the sliding cylinder of + her cabinet, so as to cover the secret arsenal, and went to open the door + with a grave and solemn air. A lay sister came to announce to her that the + Princess de Saint-Dizier was waiting for her in the parlor, and that + Mdlle. Florine, accompanied by a young girl, deformed and badly dressed, + was waiting at the door of the little corridor. + </p> + <p> + “Introduce the princess first,” said Mother Sainte Perpetue. + And, with charming forethought, she drew an armchair to the fire. Mme. de + Saint Dizier entered. + </p> + <p> + Without pretensions to juvenile coquetry, still the princess was + tastefully and elegantly dressed. She wore a black velvet bonnet of the + most fashionable make, a large blue cashmere shawl, and a black satin + dress, trimmed with sable, to match the fur of her muff. + </p> + <p> + “To what good fortune am I again to-day indebted for the honor of + your visit, my dear daughter?” said the superior, graciously. + </p> + <p> + “A very important recommendation, my dear mother, though I am in a + great hurry. I am expected at the house of his Eminence, and have, + unfortunately, only a few minutes to spare. I have again to speak of the + two orphans who occupied our attention so long yesterday.” + </p> + <p> + “They continue to be kept separate, according to your wish; and this + separation has had such an effect upon them that I have been obliged to + send this morning for Dr. Baleinier, from his asylum. He found much fever + joined to great depression, and, singular enough, absolutely the same + symptoms in both cases. I have again questioned these unfortunate + creatures, and have been quite confounded and terrified to find them + perfect heathens.” + </p> + <p> + “It was, you see, very urgent to place them in your care. But to the + subject of my visit, my dear mother: we have just learned the unexpected + return of the soldier who brought these girls to France, and was thought + to be absent for some days; but he is in Paris, and, notwithstanding his + age, a man of extraordinary boldness, enterprise and energy. Should he + discover that the girls are here (which, however, is fortunately almost + impossible), in his rage at seeing them removed from his impious + influence, he would be capable of anything. Therefore let me entreat you, + my dear mother, to redouble your precautions, that no one may effect an + entrance by night. This quarter of the town is so deserted!” + </p> + <p> + “Be satisfied, my dear daughter; we are sufficiently guarded. Our + porter and gardeners, all well armed, make a round every night on the side + of the Boulevard de l’Hopital. The walls are high, and furnished + with spikes at the more accessible places. But I thank you, my dear + daughter, for having warned me. We will redouble our precautions.” + </p> + <p> + “Particularly this night, my dear mother.” + </p> + <p> + “Why so?” + </p> + <p> + “Because if this infernal soldier has the audacity to attempt such a + thing, it will be this very night.” + </p> + <p> + “How do you know, my dear daughter?” + </p> + <p> + “We have information which makes us certain of it,” replied + the princess, with a slight embarrassment, which did not escape the notice + of the Superior, though she was too crafty and reserved to appear to see + it; only she suspected that many things were concealed from her. + </p> + <p> + “This night, then,” resumed Mother Sainte-Perpetue, “we + will be more than ever on our guard. But as I have the pleasure of seeing + you, my dear daughter, I will take the opportunity to say a word or two on + the subject of that marriage we mentioned.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, my dear mother,” said the princess, hastily, “for + it is very important. The young Baron de Brisville is a man full of ardent + devotion in these times of revolutionary impiety; he practises openly, and + is able to render us great services. He is listened to in the Chamber, and + does not want for a sort of aggressive and provoking eloquence; I know not + any one whose tone is more insolent with regard to his faith, and the plan + is a good one, for this cavalier and open manner of speaking of sacred + things raises and excites the curiosity of the indifferent. Circumstances + are happily such that he may show the most audacious violence towards our + enemies, without the least danger to himself, which, of course, redoubles + his ardor as a would-be martyr. In a word, he is altogether ours, and we, + in return, must bring about this marriage. You know, besides, my dear + mother, that he proposes to offer a donation of a hundred thousand francs + to St. Mary’s the day he gains possession of the fortune of Mdlle. + Baudricourt.” + </p> + <p> + “I have never doubted the excellent intentions of M. de Brisville + with regard to an institution which merits the sympathy of all pious + persons,” answered the superior, discreetly; “but I did not + expect to meet with so many obstacles on the part of the young lady.” + </p> + <p> + “How is that?” + </p> + <p> + “This girl, whom I always believed a most simple, submissive, timid, + almost idiotic person—instead of being delighted with this proposal + of marriage, asks time to consider!” + </p> + <p> + “It is really pitiable!” + </p> + <p> + “She opposes to me an inert resistance. It is in vain for me to + speak severely, and tell her that, having no parents or friends, and being + absolutely confided to my care, she ought to see with my eyes, hear with + my ears, and when I affirm that this union is suitable in all respects, + give her adhesion to it without delay or reflection.” + </p> + <p> + “No doubt. It would be impossible to speak more sensibly.” + </p> + <p> + “She answers that she wishes to see M. de Brisville, and know his + character before being engaged.” + </p> + <p> + “It is absurd—since you undertake to answer for his morality, + and esteem this a proper marriage.” + </p> + <p> + “Therefore, I remarked to Mdlle. Baudricourt, this morning, that + till now I had only employed gentle persuasion, but that, if she forced me + to it, I should be obliged, in her own interest, to act with rigor, to + conquer so much obstinacy that I should have to separate her from her + companions, and to confine her closely in a cell, until she made up her + mind, after all, to consult her own happiness, and—marry an + honorable man.” + </p> + <p> + “And these menaces, my dear mother?” + </p> + <p> + “Will, I hope, have a good effect. She kept up a correspondence with + an old school-friend in the country. I have put a stop to this, for it + appeared to me dangerous. She is now under my sole influence, and I hope + we shall attain our ends; but you see, my dear daughter, it is never + without crosses and difficulties that we succeed in doing good!” + </p> + <p> + “And I feel certain that M. de Brisville will even go beyond his + first promise, and I will pledge myself for him, that, should he marry + Mdlle. Baudricourt—” + </p> + <p> + “You know, my dear daughter,” said the superior, interrupting + the princess, “that if I were myself concerned, I would refuse + everything; but to give to this institution is to give to Heaven, and I + cannot prevent M. de Brisville from augmenting the amount of his good + works. Then, you see, we are exposed to a sad disappointment.” + </p> + <p> + “What is that, my dear mother?” + </p> + <p> + “The Sacred Heart Convent disputes an estate with us that would have + suited us exactly. Really, some people are quite insatiable! I gave the + lady superior my opinion upon it pretty freely.” + </p> + <p> + “She told me as much,” answered Madame de Saint-Dizier, + “and laid the blame on the steward.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! so you see her, my dear daughter?” exclaimed the + superior, with an air of great surprise. + </p> + <p> + “I met her at the bishop’s,” answered Madame de + Saint-Dizier, with a slight degree of hesitation, that Mother + Sainte-Perpetue did not appear to notice. + </p> + <p> + “I really do not know,” resumed the latter, “why our + establishment should excite so violently the jealousy of the Sacred Heart. + There is not an evil report that they have not spread with regard to St. + Mary’s Convent. Certain persons are always offended by the success + of their neighbors!” + </p> + <p> + “Come, my dear mother,” said the princess, in a conciliating + tone, “we must hope that the donation of M. de Brisville will enable + you to outbid the Sacred Heart. This marriage will have a double + advantage, you see, my dear mother; it will place a large fortune at the + disposal of a man who is devoted to us, and who will employ it as we wish; + and it will also greatly increase the importance of his position as our + defender, by the addition to his income of 100,000 francs a year. We shall + have at length an organ worthy of our cause, and shall no longer be + obliged to look for defenders amongst such people as that Dumoulin.” + </p> + <p> + “There is great power and much learning in the writings of the man + you name. It is the style of a Saint Bernard, in wrath at the impiety of + the age.” + </p> + <p> + “Alas, my dear mother! if you only knew what a strange Saint Bernard + this Dumoulin is! But I will not offend your ears; all I can tell you is, + that such defenders would compromise the most sacred cause. Adieu, my dear + mother! pray redouble your precautions to-night—the return of this + soldier is alarming.” + </p> + <p> + “Be quite satisfied, my dear daughter! Oh! I forgot. Mdlle. Florine + begged me to ask you a favor. It is to let her enter your service. You + know the fidelity she displayed in watching your unfortunate niece; I + think that, by rewarding her in this way, you will attach her to you + completely, and I shall feel grateful on her account.” + </p> + <p> + “If you interest yourself the least in the world in Florine, my dear + mother, the thing is done. I will take her into my service. And now it + strikes me, she may be more useful to me than I thought.” + </p> + <p> + “A thousand thanks, my dear daughter, for such obliging attention to + my request. I hope we shall soon meet again. The day after to-morrow, at + two o’clock, we have a long conference with his Eminence and the + Bishop; do not forget!” + </p> + <p> + “No, my dear mother; I shall take care to be exact. Only, pray, + redouble your precautions to-night for fear of a great scandal!” + </p> + <p> + After respectfully kissing the hand of the superior, the princess went out + by the great door, which led to an apartment opening on the principal + staircase. Some minutes after, Florine entered the room by another way. + The superior was seated and Florine approached her with timid humility. + </p> + <p> + “Did you meet the Princess de Saint-Dizier?” asked Mother + Sainte Perpetue. + </p> + <p> + “No, mother; I was waiting in the passage, where the windows look + out on the garden.” + </p> + <p> + “The princess takes you into her service from to-day,” said + the superior. + </p> + <p> + Florine made a movement of sorrowful surprise, and exclaimed: “Me, + mother! but—” + </p> + <p> + “I asked her in your name, and you have only to accept,” + answered the other imperiously. + </p> + <p> + “But, mother, I had entreated you—” + </p> + <p> + “I tell you, that you accept the offer,” said the superior, in + so firm and positive a tone that Florine cast down her eyes, and replied + in a low voice: “I accept.” + </p> + <p> + “It is in M. Rodin’s name that I give you this order.” + </p> + <p> + “I thought so, mother,” replied Florine, sadly; “on what + conditions am I to serve the princess?” + </p> + <p> + “On the same conditions as those on which you served her niece.” + </p> + <p> + Florine shuddered and said: “I am, then, to make frequent secret + reports with regard to the princess?” + </p> + <p> + “You will observe, you will remember, and you will give an account.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, my mother.” + </p> + <p> + “You will above all direct your attention to the visits that the + princess may receive from the lady superior of the Sacred Heart. You must + try and listen—for we have to preserve the princess from evil + influences.” + </p> + <p> + “I will obey, my mother.” + </p> + <p> + “You will also try and discover why two young orphans have been + brought hither, and recommended to be severely treated, by Madame Grivois, + the confidential waiting-woman of the princess.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, mother.” + </p> + <p> + “Which must not prevent you from remembering anything else that may + be worthy of remark. To-morrow I will give you particular instructions + upon another subject.” + </p> + <p> + “It is well, mother.” + </p> + <p> + “If you conduct yourself in a satisfactory manner, and execute + faithfully the instructions of which I speak, you will soon leave the + princess to enter the service of a young bride; it will be an excellent + and lasting situation always on the same conditions. It is, therefore, + perfectly understood that you have asked me to recommend you to Madame de + Saint Dizier.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, mother; I shall remember.” + </p> + <p> + “Who is this deformed young girl that accompanies you?” + </p> + <p> + “A poor creature without any resources, very intelligent, and with + an education above her class; she works at her needle, but is at present + without employment, and reduced to the last extremity. I have made + inquiries about her this morning; she has an excellent character.” + </p> + <p> + “She is ugly and deformed, you say?” + </p> + <p> + “She has an interesting countenance, but she is deformed.” + </p> + <p> + The superior appeared pleased at this information, and added, after a + moment’s reflection: “She appears intelligent?” + </p> + <p> + “Very intelligent.” + </p> + <p> + “And is absolutely without resources?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, without any.” + </p> + <p> + “Is she pious?” + </p> + <p> + “She does not practice.” + </p> + <p> + “No matter,” said the superior to herself; “if she be + intelligent, that will suffice.” Then she resumed aloud. “Do + you know if she is a good workwoman?” + </p> + <p> + “I believe so, mother.” + </p> + <p> + The superior rose, took a register from a shelf, appeared to be looking + into it attentively for some time, and then said, as she replaced it: + “Fetch in this young girl, and go and wait for me in the press-room.” + </p> + <p> + “Deformed—intelligent—clever at her needle,” said + the superior, reflecting; “she will excite no suspicion. We must + see.” + </p> + <p> + In about a minute, Florine returned with Mother Bunch, whom she introduced + to the superior, and then discreetly withdrew. The young sempstress was + agitated, trembling, and much troubled, for she could, as it were, hardly + believe a discovery which she had chanced to make during Florine’s + absence. It was not without a vague sense of terror that the hunchback + remained alone with the lady superior. + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:65%;"> + <img src="images/20077m.jpg" alt="20077m” width=" /><br /> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/20077.jpg"><i>Original</i></a> + </h5> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0060" id="link2HCH0060"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VII. THE TEMPTATION. + </h2> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>his was the cause + of Mother Bunch’s emotion. Florine, when she went to see the + superior, had left the young sempstress in a passage supplied with + benches, and forming a sort of ante-chamber on the first story. Being + alone, the girl had mechanically approached a window which looked upon the + convent garden, shut in by a half demolished wall, and terminating at one + end in an open paling. This wall was connected with a chapel that was + still building, and bordered on the garden of a neighboring house. The + sewing-girl, at one of the windows on the ground floor of this house—a + grated window, still more remarkable by the sort of tent-like awning above + it—beheld a young female, with her eyes fixed upon the convent, + making signs with her hand, at once encouraging and affectionate. From the + window where she stood, Mother Bunch could not see to whom these signs + were addressed; but she admired the rare beauty of the telegrapher, the + brilliancy of her complexion, the shining blackness of her large eyes, the + sweet and benevolent smile which lingered on her lips. There was, no + doubt, some answer to her graceful and expressive pantomime, for, by a + movement full of elegance, the girl laid her left hand on her bosom, and + waved her right, which seemed to indicate that her heart flew towards the + place on which she kept her eyes. One faint sunbeam, piercing the clouds, + came at this moment to play with the tresses of the pale countenance, + which, now held close to the bars of the window, was suddenly, as it were, + illuminated by the dazzling reflection of her splendid golden hair. At + sight of that charming face, set in its admirable frame of red curls, + Mother Bunch started involuntarily; the thought of Mdlle. de Cardoville + crossed her mind, and she felt persuaded (nor was she, indeed, mistaken), + that the protectress of Agricola was before her. On thus beholding, in + that gloomy asylum, this young lady, so marvellously beautiful, and + remembering the delicate kindness with which a few days before she had + received Agricola in her luxurious little palace of dazzling splendor, the + work-girl felt her heart sink within her. She believed Adrienne insane; + and yet, as she looked attentively at her, it seemed as if intelligence + and grace animated that adorable countenance. Suddenly, Mdlle. de + Cardoville laid her fingers upon her lips, blew a couple of kisses in the + direction towards which she had been looking, and all at once disappeared. + Reflecting upon the important revelations which Agricola had to make to + Mdlle. de Cardoville, Mother Bunch regretted bitterly that she had no + means of approaching her; for she felt sure that, if the young lady were + mad, the present was a lucid interval. She was yet absorbed in these + uneasy reflections, when she saw Florine return, accompanied by one of the + nuns. Mother Bunch was obliged, therefore, to keep silence with regard to + the discovery she had made, and soon after she found herself in the + superior’s presence. This latter, after a rapid and searching + examination of the countenance of the young workwoman, judged her + appearance so timid, gentle and honest, that she thought she might repose + full confidence in the information given by Florine. + </p> + <p> + “My dear daughter,” said Mother Sainte-Perpetue, in an + affectionate voice, “Florine has told me in what a cruel situation + you are placed. Is it true that you are entirely without work?” + </p> + <p> + “Alas! yes, madame.” + </p> + <p> + “Call me mother, my dear daughter; that name is dearer to me, and it + is the rule of our house. I need not ask you what are your principles?” + </p> + <p> + “I have always lived honestly by my labor, mother,” answered + the girl, with a simplicity at once dignified and modest. + </p> + <p> + “I believe you, my dear daughter, and I have good reasons for so + doing. We must thank the Lord, who has delivered you from temptation; but + tell me—are you clever at your trade?” + </p> + <p> + “I do my best, mother, and have always satisfied my employers. If + you please to try me, you will be able to judge.” + </p> + <p> + “Your affirmation is sufficient, my dear daughter. You prefer, I + think, to go out by the day?” + </p> + <p> + “Mdlle. Florine told me, mother, that I could not have work at home.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, no—not for the present, my child. If hereafter an + opportunity should offer, I will think of it. Just now I have this to + propose to you. A very respectable old lady has asked me to recommend to + her a needle-woman by the day; introduced by me, you will certainly suit + her. The institution will undertake to clothe you becomingly, and this + advance we shall retain by degrees out of your wages, for you will look to + us for payment. We propose to give you two francs a day; does that appear + to you sufficient?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, mother! it is much more than I could have expected.” + </p> + <p> + “You will, moreover, only be occupied from nine o’clock in the + morning till six in the evening; you will thus have still some off hours, + of which you might make use. You see, the situation is not a hard one.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! quite the contrary, mother.” + </p> + <p> + “I must tell you, first of all, with whom the institution intends to + place you. It is a widow lady, named Mme. de Bremant, a person of the most + steadfast piety. In her house, I hope, you will meet with none but + excellent examples. If it should be otherwise, you can come and inform me.” + </p> + <p> + “How so, mother?” said the sewing-girl, with surprise. + </p> + <p> + “Listen to me, my dear daughter,” said Mother Sainte-Perpetue, + in a tone ever more and more affectionate; “the institution of St. + Mary has a double end in view. You will perfectly understand that, if it + is our duty to give to masters and mistresses every possible security as + to the morality of the persons that we place in their families, we are + likewise bound to give to the persons that we so place out every possible + security as to the morality of their employers.” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing can be more just and of a wiser foresight, mother.” + </p> + <p> + “Naturally, my dear daughter; for even as a servant of bad morals + may cause the utmost trouble in a respectable family, so the bad conduct + of a master or mistress may have the most baneful influence on the persons + who serve them, or who come to work in their houses. Now, it is to offer a + mutual guarantee to good masters and honest servants, that we have founded + this institution.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, madame!” cried Mother Bunch, with simplicity; “such + designs merit the thanks and blessings of every one.” + </p> + <p> + “And blessings do not fail us, my dear daughter, because we perform + our promises. Thus, an interesting workwoman—such as you, for + example—is placed with persons that we suppose irreproachable. + Should she, however, perceive, on the part of her employers, or on that of + the persons who frequent the house, any irregularity of morals, any + tendency to what would offend her modesty, or shock her religious + principles, she should immediately give us a detailed account of the + circumstances that have caused her alarm. Nothing can be more proper—don’t + you think so?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, mother,” answered Mother Bunch, timidly, for she began + to find this provision somewhat singular. + </p> + <p> + “Then,” resumed the superior, “if the case appears a + serious one, we exhort our befriended one to observe what passes more + attentively, so as to convince herself whether she had really reason to be + alarmed. She makes a new report to us, and should it confirm our first + fears, faithful to our pious guardianship, we withdraw her instantly from + the house. Moreover, as the majority of our young people, notwithstanding + their innocence and virtue, have not always sufficient experience to + distinguish what may be injurious to their soul’s health, we think + it greatly to their interest that they should confide to us once a week, + as a child would to her mother, either in person or by letter, whatever + has chanced to occur in the house in which we have placed them. Then we + can judge for them, whether to withdraw them or not. We have already about + a hundred persons, companions to ladies, young women in shops, servants, + and needlewomen by the day, whom we have placed in a great number of + families, and, for the interest of all, we have every reason to + congratulate ourselves on this mode of proceeding. You understand me, do + you not, my dear daughter?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes-yes, mother,” said the sempstress, more and more + embarrassed. She had too much uprightness and sagacity not to perceive + that this plan of mutually insuring the morality of masters and servants + resembled a vast spy system, brought home to the domestic hearth, and + carried on by the members of the institution almost without their + knowledge, for it would have been difficult to disguise more skillfully + the employment for which they were trained. + </p> + <p> + “If I have entered into these long details my dear daughter,” + resumed Mother Sainte-Perpetue, taking the hearer’s silence for + consent, “it is that you may not suppose yourself obliged to remain + in the house in question, if, against our expectation, you should not find + there holy and pious examples. I believe Mme. de Bremont’s house to + be a pure and godly place; only I have heard (though I will not believe + it) that Mme. de Bremont’s daughter, Mme. de Noisy, who has lately + come to reside with her, is not so exemplary in her conduct as could be + desired, that she does not fulfil regularly her religious duties, and + that, during the absence of her husband, who is now in America, she + receives visits, unfortunately too frequent, from one M. Hardy, a rich + manufacturer.” + </p> + <p> + At the name of Agricola’s master, Mother Bunch could not suppress a + movement of surprise, and also blushed slightly. The superior naturally + mistook this surprise and confusion for a proof of the modest + susceptibility of the young sempstress, and added: “I have told you + all this, my dear daughter, that you might be on your guard. I have even + mentioned reports that I believe to be completely erroneous, for the + daughter of Mme. de Bremont has always had such good examples before her + that she cannot have so forgotten them. But, being in the house from + morning to night, you will be able, better than any one, to discover if + these reports have any foundation in truth. Should it unfortunately so + turn out, my dear daughter, you would come and confide to me all the + circumstances that have led you to such a conclusion; and, should I then + agree in your opinion, I would withdraw you instantly from the house—for + the piety of the mother would not compensate sufficiently for the + deplorable example of the daughter’s conduct. For, as soon as you + form part of the institution, I am responsible for your salvation, and, in + case your delicacy should oblige you to leave Mme. de Bremont’s, as + you might be some time without employment, the institution will allow you, + if satisfied with your zeal and conduct, one franc a day till we could + find you another place. You see, my dear daughter, that you have + everything to gain with us. It is therefore agreed that the day after + to-morrow you go to Mme. de Bremont’s.” Mother Bunch found + herself in a very hard position. Sometimes she thought that her first + suspicions were confirmed, and, notwithstanding her timidity, her pride + felt hurt at the supposition, that, because they knew her poor, they + should believe her capable of selling herself as a spy for the sake of + high wages. Sometimes, on the contrary, her natural delicacy revolted at + the idea that a woman of the age and condition of the superior could + descend to make a proposition so disgraceful both to the accepter and the + proposer, and she reproached herself with her first doubts and asked + herself if the superior had not wished to try her, before employing her, + to see if her probity would enable her to resist a comparatively brilliant + offer. Mother Bunch was naturally so inclined to think well of every one, + that she made up her mind to this last conclusion, saying to herself, that + if, after all, she were deceived, it would be the least offensive mode of + refusing these unworthy offers. With a movement, exempt from all + haughtiness, but expressive of natural dignity, the young workman raised + her head, which she had hitherto held humbly cast down, looked the + superior full in the face, that the latter might read in her countenance + the sincerity of her words, and said to her in a slightly agitated voice, + forgetting this time to call her “mother”: “Ah, madame! + I cannot blame you for exposing me to such a trial. You see that I am very + poor, and I have yet done nothing to command your confidence. But, believe + me, poor as I am, I would never stoop to so despicable an action as that + which you have thought fit to propose to me, no doubt to assure yourself, + by my refusal, that I am worthy of your kindness. No, no, madame—I + could never bring myself to be a spy at any price.” + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:65%;"> + <img src="images/20085m.jpg" alt="20085m” width=" /><br /> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/20085.jpg"><i>Original</i></a> + </h5> + <p> + She pronounced these last words with so much animation that her cheeks + became slightly flushed. The superior had too much tact and experience not + to perceive the sincerity of the words. Thinking herself lucky that the + young girl should put this construction upon the affair, she smiled upon + her affectionately, and stretched out her arms to her, saying: “It + is well, my dear daughter. Come and embrace me!” + </p> + <p> + “Mother—I am really confused—with so much kindness—” + </p> + <p> + “No—you deserve it—your words are so full of truth and + honesty. Only be persuaded that I have not put you to any trial, because + there is no resemblance between the act of a spy and the marks of filial + confidence that we require of our members for the sake of watching over + their morals. But certain persons—I see you are of the number, my + dear daughter—have such fixed principles, and so mature a judgment, + that they can do without our advice and guardianship, and can appreciate + themselves whatever might be dangerous to their salvation. I will + therefore leave the entire responsibility to yourself, and only ask you + for such communications as you may think proper to make.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, madame! how good you are!” said poor Mother Bunch, for + she was not aware of the thousand devices of the monastic spirit, and + thought herself already sure of gaining just wages honorably. + </p> + <p> + “It is not goodness—but justice!” answered Mother + Sainte-Perpetue, whose tone was becoming more and more affectionate. + “Too much tenderness cannot be shown to pious young women like you, + whom poverty has only purified because they have always faithfully + observed the divine laws.” + </p> + <p> + “Mother—” + </p> + <p> + “One last question, my child! how many times a month do you approach + the Lord’s table?” + </p> + <p> + “Madame,” replied the hunchback, “I have not taken the + sacrament since my first communion, eight years ago. I am hardly able, by + working every day, and all day long, to earn my bread. I have no time—” + </p> + <p> + “Gracious heaven!” cried the superior, interrupting, and + clasping her hands with all the signs of painful astonishment. “Is + it possible? you do not practise?” + </p> + <p> + “Alas, madame! I tell you that I have no time,” answered + Mother Bunch, looking disconcertedly at Mother Saint-Perpetue. + </p> + <p> + “I am grieved, my dear daughter,” said the latter sorrowfully, + after a moment’s silence, “but I told you that, as we place + our friends in none but pious houses, so we are asked to recommend none + but pious persons, who practise their religious duties. It is one of the + indispensable conditions of our institution. It will, therefore, to my + great regret, be impossible for me to employ you as I had hoped. If, + hereafter, you should renounce your present indifference to those duties, + we will then see.” + </p> + <p> + “Madame,” said Mother Bunch, her heart swollen with tears, for + she was thus forced to abandon a cheering hope, “I beg pardon for + having detained you so long—for nothing.” + </p> + <p> + “It is I, my dear daughter, who regret not to be able to attach you + to the institution; but I am not altogether hopeless, that a person, + already so worthy of interest, will one day deserve by her piety the + lasting support of religious people. Adieu, my dear daughter! go in peace, + and may God be merciful to you, until the day that you return with your + whole heart to Him!” + </p> + <p> + So saying, the superior rose, and conducted her visitor to the door, with + all the forms of the most maternal kindness. At the moment she crossed the + threshold, she said to her: “Follow the passage, go down a few + steps, and knock at the second door on the right hand. It is the + press-room, and there you will find Florine. She will show you the way + out. Adieu, my dear daughter!” + </p> + <p> + As soon as Mother Bunch had left the presence of the superior, her tears, + until now restrained, gushed forth abundantly. Not wishing to appear + before Florine and the nuns in this state, she stopped a moment at one of + the windows to dry her eyes. As she looked mechanically towards the + windows of the next house, where she fancied she had seen Adrienne de + Cardoville, she beheld the latter come from a door in the building, and + advance rapidly towards the open paling that separated the two gardens. At + the same instant, and to her great astonishment, Mother Bunch saw one of + the two sisters whose disappearance had caused the despair of Dagobert, + with pale and dejected countenance, approach the fence that separated her + from Mdlle. de Cardoville, trembling with fear and anxiety, as though she + dreaded to be discovered. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0061" id="link2HCH0061"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VIII. MOTHER BUNCH AND MDLLE. DE CARDOVILLE. + </h2> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">A</span>gitated, + attentive, uneasy, leaning from one of the convent-windows, the work-girl + followed with her eyes the movements of Mdlle. de Cardoville and Rose + Simon, whom she so little expected to find together in such a place. The + orphan, approaching close to the fence, which separated the nunnery-garden + from that of Dr. Baleinier’s asylum, spoke a few words to Adrienne, + whose features at once expressed astonishment, indignation, and pity. At + this juncture, a nun came running, and looking right and left, as though + anxiously seeking for some one; then, perceiving Rose, who timidly pressed + close to the paling, she seized her by the arm, and seemed to scold her + severely, and notwithstanding some energetic words addressed to her by + Mdlle. de Cardoville, she hastily carried off the orphan, who with weeping + eyes, turned several times to look back at Adrienne; whilst the latter, + after showing the interest she took in her by expressive gestures, turned + away suddenly, as if to conceal her tears. + </p> + <p> + The passage in which the witness stood, during this touching scene, was + situated on the first story. The thought immediately occurred to the + sempstress, to go down to the ground-floor, and try to get into the + garden, so that she might have an opportunity of speaking to the fair girl + with the golden hair, and ascertaining if it were really Mdlle. de + Cardoville, to whom; if she found her in a lucid interval, she might say + that Agricola had things of the greatest importance to communicate, but + that he did not know how to inform her of them. The day was advancing, the + sun was on its decline, and fearing that Florine would be tired of waiting + for her, Mother Bunch made haste to act; with a light step, listening + anxiously as she went, she reached the end of the passage, where three or + four stairs led down to the landing-place of the press room, and then + formed a spiral descent to the ground-floor. Hearing voices in the + pressroom, the sempstress hastened down the stairs, and found herself in a + long passage, in the centre of which was a glass door, opening on that + part of the garden reserved for the superior. A path, bordered by a high + box-hedge, sheltered her from the gaze of curious eyes, and she crept + along it, till she reached the open paling; which, at this spot, separated + the convent-garden from that of Dr. Baleinier’s asylum. She saw + Mdlle. de Cardoville a few steps from her, seated, and with her arm + resting upon a rustic bench. The firmness of Adrienne’s character + had for a moment been shaken by fatigue, astonishment, fright, despair, on + the terrible night when she had been taken to the asylum by Dr. Baleinier; + and the latter, taking a diabolical advantage of her weakness and + despondency, had succeeded for a moment in making her doubt of her own + sanity. But the calm, which necessarily follows the most painful and + violent emotions, combined with the reflection and reasoning of a clear + and subtle intellect, soon convinced Adrienne of the groundlessness of the + fears inspired by the crafty doctor. She no longer believed that it could + even be a mistake on the part of the man of science. She saw clearly in + the conduct of this man, in which detestable hypocrisy was united with + rare audacity, and both served by a skill no less remarkable, that M. + Baleinier was, in fact, the blind instrument of the Princess de + Saint-Dizier. From that moment, she remained silent and calm, but full of + dignity; not a complaint, not a reproach was allowed to pass her lips. She + waited. Yet, though they left her at liberty to walk about (carefully + depriving her of all means of communicating with any one beyond the + walls), Adrienne’s situation was harsh and painful, particularly for + her, who so loved to be surrounded by pleasant and harmonious objects. She + felt, however, that this situation could not last long. She did not + thoroughly understand the penetration and action of the laws; but her good + sense taught her, that a confinement of a few days under the plea of some + appearances of insanity, more or less plausible in themselves, might be + attempted, and even executed with impunity; but that it could not be + prolonged beyond certain limits, because, after all, a young lady of her + rank in society could not disappear suddenly from the world, without + inquiries being made on the subject—and the pretence of a sudden + attack of madness would lead to a serious investigation. Whether true or + false, this conviction had restored Adrienne to her accustomed elasticity + and energy of character. And yet she sometimes in vain asked herself the + cause of this attempt on her liberty. She knew too well the Princess de + Saint-Dizier, to believe her capable of acting in this way, without a + certain end in view, and merely for the purpose of inflicting a momentary + pang. In this, Mdlle. de Cardoville was not deceived: Father d’Aigrigny + and the princess were both persuaded, that Adrienne, better informed than + she wished to acknowledge, knew how important it was for her to find + herself in the house in the Rue Saint-Francois on the 13th of February, + and was determined to maintain her rights. In shutting up Adrienne as mad, + it was intended to strike a fatal blow at her future prospects; but this + last precaution was useless, for Adrienne, though upon the true scent of + the family-secret they lead wished to conceal from her, had not yet + entirely penetrated its meaning, for want of certain documents, which had + been lost or hidden. + </p> + <p> + Whatever had been the motives for the odious conduct of Mdlle. de + Cardoville’s enemies, she was not the less disgusted at it. No one + could be more free from hatred or revenge, than was this generous young + girl, but when she thought of all the sufferings which the Princess de + Saint Dizier, Abbe d’Aigrigny, and Dr. Baleinier had occasioned her, + she promised herself, not reprisals, but a striking reparation. If it were + refused her, she was resolved to combat—without truce or rest—this + combination of craft, hypocrisy, and cruelty, not from resentment for what + she had endured, but to preserve from the same torments other innocent + victims, who might not, like her, be able to struggle and defend + themselves. Adrienne, still under the painful impression which had been + caused by her interview with Rose Simon, was leaning against one of the + sides of the rustic bench on which she was seated, and held her left hand + over her eyes. She had laid down her bonnet beside her, and the inclined + position of her head brought the long golden curls over her fair, shining + cheeks. In this recumbent attitude, so full of careless grace, the + charming proportions of her figure were seen to advantage beneath a + watered green dress, while a broad collar, fastened with a rose-colored + satin bow, and fine lace cuffs, prevented too strong a contrast between + the hue of her dress and the dazzling whiteness of the swan-like neck and + Raphaelesque hands, imperceptibly veined with tiny azure lines. Over the + high and well-formed instep, were crossed the delicate strings of a + little, black satin shoe—for Dr. Baleinier had allowed her to dress + herself with her usual taste, and elegance of costume was not with + Adrienne a mark of coquetry, but of duty towards herself, because she had + been made so beautiful. At sight of this young lady, whose dress and + appearance she admired in all simplicity, without any envious or bitter + comparison with her own poor clothes and deformity of person, Mother Bunch + said immediately to herself, with the good sense and sagacity peculiar to + her, that it was strange a mad woman should dress so sanely and + gracefully. It was therefore with a mixture of surprise and emotion that + she approached the fence which separated her from Adrienne—reflecting, + however, that the unfortunate girl might still be insane, and that this + might turn out to be merely a lucid interval. And now, with a timid voice, + but loud enough to be heard, Mother Bunch, in order to assure herself of + Adrienne’s identity, said, whilst her heart beat fast: “Mdlle. + de Cardoville!” + </p> + <p> + “Who calls me?” said Adrienne. On hastily raising her head, + and perceiving the hunchback, she could not suppress a slight cry of + surprise, almost fright. For indeed this poor creature, pale, deformed, + miserably clad, thus appearing suddenly before her, must have inspired + Mdlle, de Cardoville, so passionately fond of grace and beauty, with a + feeling of repugnance, if not of terror—and these two sentiments + were both visible in her expressive countenance. + </p> + <p> + The other did not perceive the impression she had made. Motionless, with + her eyes fixed, and her hands clasped in a sort of adoring admiration, she + gazed on the dazzling beauty of Adrienne, whom she had only half seen + through the grated window. All that Agricola had told her of the charms of + his protectress, appeared to her a thousand times below the reality; and + never, even in her secret poetic visions, had she dreamed of such rare + perfection. Thus, by a singular contrast, a feeling of mutual surprise + came over these two girls—extreme types of deformity and beauty, + wealth and wretchedness. After rendering, as it were, this involuntary + homage to Adrienne, Mother Bunch advanced another step towards the fence. + </p> + <p> + “What do you want?” cried Mdlle. de Cardoville, rising with a + sentiment of repugnance, which could not escape the work-girl’s + notice; accordingly, she held down her head timidly, and said in a soft + voice: “I beg your pardon, madame, to appear so suddenly before you. + But moments are precious, I come from Agricola.” + </p> + <p> + As she pronounced these words, the sempstress raised her eyes anxiously, + fearing that Mdlle. de Cardoville might have forgotten the name of the + workman. But, to her great surprise and joy, the fears of Adrienne seemed + to diminish at the name of Agricola, and approaching the fence, she looked + at the speaker with benevolent curiosity. + </p> + <p> + “You come from M. Agricola Baudoin?” said she. “Who are + you?” + </p> + <p> + “His adopted sister, madame—a poor needlewoman, who lives in + the same house.” + </p> + <p> + Adrienne appeared to collect her thoughts, and said, smiling kindly, after + a moment’s silence: “It was you then, who persuaded M. + Agricola to apply to me to procure him bail?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, madame, do you remember—” + </p> + <p> + “I never forget anything that is generous and noble. M. Agricola was + much affected when he spoke of your devotion. I remember it well; it would + be strange if I did not. But how came you here, in this convent?” + </p> + <p> + “They told me that I should perhaps be able to get some occupation + here, as I am out of work. Unfortunately, I have been refused by the lady + superior.” + </p> + <p> + “And how did you recognize me?” + </p> + <p> + “By your great beauty, madame, of which Agricola had told me.” + </p> + <p> + “Or rather by this,” said Adrienne, smiling as she lifted, + with the tips of her rosy fingers, one end of a long, silky ringlet of + golden hair. + </p> + <p> + “You must pardon Agricola, madame,” said the sewing girl, with + one of those half smiles, which rarely settled on her lips: “he is a + poet, and omitted no single perfection in the respectful and admiring + description which he gave of his protectress.” + </p> + <p> + “And what induced you to come and speak to me?” + </p> + <p> + “The hope of being useful to you, madame. You received Agricola with + so much goodness, that I have ventured to go shares in his gratitude.” + </p> + <p> + “You may well venture to do so, my dear girl,” said Adrienne, + with ineffable grace; “until now, unfortunately, I have only been + able to serve your adopted brother by intention.” + </p> + <p> + As they exchanged these words, Adrienne and Mother Bunch looked at each + other with increasing surprise. The latter was, first of all, astonished + that a person who passed for mad should express herself as Adrienne did; + next, she was amazed at the ease and freedom with which she herself + answered the questions of Mdlle. de Cardoville—not knowing that the + latter was endowed with the precious privilege of lofty and benevolent + natures, to draw out from those who approached her whatever sympathized + with herself. On her side, Mdlle. de Cardoville was deeply moved and + astonished to hear this young, low-born girl, dressed almost like a + beggar, express herself in terms selected with so much propriety. The more + she looked at her, the more the feeling of repugnance she at first + experienced wore off, and was at length converted into quite the opposite + sentiment. With that rapid and minute power of observation natural to + women, she remarked beneath the black crape of Mother Bunch’s cap, + the smoothness and brilliancy of the fair, chestnut hair. She remarked, + too, the whiteness of the long, thin hand, though it displayed itself at + the end of a patched and tattered sleeve—an infallible proof that + care, and cleanliness, and self-respect were at least struggling against + symptoms of fearful distress. Adrienne discovered, also, in the pale and + melancholy features, in the expression of the blue eyes, at once + intelligent, mild and timid, a soft and modest dignity, which made one + forget the deformed figure. Adrienne loved physical beauty, and admired it + passionately, but she had too superior a mind, too noble a soul, too + sensitive a heart, not to know how to appreciate moral beauty, even when + it beamed from a humble and suffering countenance. Only, this kind of + appreciation was new to Mdlle. de Cardoville; until now, her large fortune + and elegant habits had kept her at a distance from persons of Mother Bunch’s + class. After a short silence, during which the fair patrician and the poor + work-girl had closely examined each other, Adrienne said to the other: + “It is easy, I think, to explain the cause of our mutual + astonishment. You have, no doubt, discovered that I speak pretty + reasonably for a mad woman—if they have told you I am one. And I,” + added Mdlle. de Cardoville, in a tone of respectful commiseration, “find + that the delicacy of your language and manners so singularly contrast with + the position in which you appear to be, that my surprise must be even + greater than yours.” + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:65%;"> + <img src="images/20093m.jpg" alt="20093m” width=" /><br /> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/20093.jpg"><i>Original</i></a> + </h5> + <p> + “Ah, madame!” cried Mother Bunch, with a welling forth of such + deep and sincere joy that the tears started to her eyes; “is it + true?—they have deceived me—you are not mad! Just now, when I + beheld you so kind and beautiful, when I heard the sweet tone of your + voice, I could not believe that such a misfortune had happened to you. + But, alas! how is it then, madame, that you are in this place?” + </p> + <p> + “Poor child!” said Adrienne, touched by the affectionate + interest of this excellent creature; “and how is it that you, with + such a heart and head, should be in such distress? But be satisfied! I + shall not always be here—and that will suffice to tell you, that we + shall both resume the place which becomes us. Believe me, I shall never + forget how, in spite of the painful ideas which must needs occupy your + mind, on seeing yourself deprived of work—your only resource—you + have still thought of coming to me, and of trying to serve me. You may, + indeed, be eminently useful to me, and I am delighted at it, for then I + shall owe you much—and you shall see how I will take advantage of my + gratitude!” said Adrienne, with a sweet smile. “But,” + resumed she, “before talking of myself, let us think of others. Is + your adopted brother still in prison?” + </p> + <p> + “By this time, madame, I hope he has obtained his freedom; thanks to + the generosity of one of his comrades. His father went yesterday to offer + bail for him, and they promised that he should be released to-day. But, + from his prison, he wrote to me, that he had something of importance to + reveal to you.” + </p> + <p> + “To me?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, madame. Should Agricola be released immediately by what means + can he communicate with you?” + </p> + <p> + “He has secrets to tell me!” resumed Mdlle. de Cardoville, + with an air of thoughtful surprise. “I seek in vain to imagine what + they can be; but so long as I am confined in this house, and secluded from + every one, M. Agricola must not think of addressing himself directly or + indirectly to me. He must wait till I am at liberty; but that is not all, + he must deliver from that convent two poor children, who are much more to + be pitied than I am. The daughters of Marshal Simon are detained there + against their will.” + </p> + <p> + “You know their name, madame?” + </p> + <p> + “When M. Agricola informed me of their arrival in Paris, he told me + they were fifteen years old, and that they resembled each other exactly—so + that, the day before yesterday, when I took my accustomed walk, and + observed two poor little weeping faces come close to the windows of their + separate cells, one on the ground floor, the other on the first story, a + secret presentiment told me that I saw in them the orphans of whom M. + Agricola had spoken, and in whom I already took a lively interest, as + being my relations.” + </p> + <p> + “They are your relations, madame, then?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, certainly. So, not being able to do more, I tried to express + by signs how much I felt for them. Their tears, and the sadness of their + charming faces, sufficiently told me that they were prisoners in the + convent, as I am myself in this house.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! I understand, madame—the victim of the animosity of your + family?” + </p> + <p> + “Whatever may be my fate, I am much less to be pitied than these two + children, whose despair is really alarming. Their separation is what + chiefly oppresses them. By some words that one of them just now said to + me, I see that they are, like me, the victims of an odious machination. + But thanks to you, it will be possible to save them: Since I have been in + this house I have had no communication with any one; they have not allowed + me pen or paper, so it is impossible to write. Now listen to me + attentively, and we shall be able to defeat an odious persecution.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, speak! speak, madame!” + </p> + <p> + “The soldier, who brought these orphans to France, the father of M. + Agricola, is still in town?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, madame. Oh! if you only knew his fury, his despair, when, on + his return home, he no longer found the children that a dying mother had + confided to him!” + </p> + <p> + “He must take care not to act with the least violence. It would ruin + all. Take this ring,” said Adrienne, drawing it from her finger, + “and give it to him. He must go instantly—are you sure that + you can remember a name and address?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! yes, madame. Be satisfied on that point. Agricola only + mentioned your name once, and I have not forgotten it. There is a memory + of the heart.” + </p> + <p> + “I perceive it, my dear girl. Remember, then, the name of the Count + de Montbron.” + </p> + <p> + “The Count de Montbron—I shall not forget.” + </p> + <p> + “He is one of my good old friends, and lives on the Place Vendome, + No. 7.” + </p> + <p> + “Place Vendome, No. 7—I shall remember.” + </p> + <p> + “M. Agricola’s father must go to him this evening, and, if he + is not at home, wait for his coming in. He must ask to speak to him, as if + from me, and send him this ring as a proof of what he says. Once with him, + he must tell him all—the abduction of the girls, the name of the + convent where they are confined, and my own detention as a lunatic in the + asylum of Dr. Baleinier. Truth has an accent of its own, which M. de + Montbron will recognize. He is a man of much experience and judgment, and + possessed of great influence. He will immediately take the necessary + steps, and to-morrow, or the day after, these poor orphans and myself will + be restored to liberty—all thanks to you! But moments are precious; + we might be discovered; make haste, dear child!” + </p> + <p> + At the moment of drawing back, Adrienne said to Mother Bunch, with so + sweet a smile and affectionate a tone, that it was impossible not to + believe her sincere: “M. Agricola told me that I had a heart like + yours. I now understand how honorable, how flattering those words were for + me. Pray, give me your hand!” added Mdlle. de Cardoville, whose eyes + were filling with tears; and, passing her beautiful hand through an + opening in the fence, she offered it to the other. The words and the + gesture of the fair patrician were full of so much real cordiality, that + the sempstress, with no false shame, placed tremblingly her own poor thin + hand in Adrienne’s, while the latter, with a feeling of pious + respect, lifted it spontaneously to her lips, and said: “Since I + cannot embrace you as my sister, let me at least kiss this hand, ennobled + by labor!” + </p> + <p> + Suddenly, footsteps were heard in the garden of Dr. Baleinier; Adrienne + withdrew abruptly, and disappeared behind some trees, saying: “Courage, + memory, and hope!” + </p> + <p> + All this had passed so rapidly that the young workwoman had no time to + speak or move; tears, sweet tears, flowed abundantly down her pale cheeks. + For a young lady, like Adrienne de Cardoville, to treat her as a sister, + to kiss her hand, to tell her that she was proud to resemble her in heart—her, + a poor creature, vegetating in the lowest abyss of misery—was to + show a spirit of fraternal equality, divine, as the gospel words. + </p> + <p> + There are words and impressions which make a noble soul forget years of + suffering, and which, as by a sudden flash, reveal to it something of its + own worth and grandeur. Thus it was with the hunchback. Thanks to this + generous speech, she was for a moment conscious of her own value. And + though this feeling was rapid as it was ineffable, she clasped her hands + and raised her eyes to heaven with an expression of fervent gratitude; + for, if the poor sempstress did not practise, to use the jargon of + ultramontane cant, no one was more richly endowed with that deep religious + sentiment, which is to mere dogmas what the immensity of the starry heaven + is to the vaulted roof of a church. + </p> + <p> + Five minutes after quitting Mdlle. de Cardoville, Mother Bunch, having + left the garden without being perceived, reascended to the first story, + and knocked gently at the door of the press-room. A sister came to open + the door to her. + </p> + <p> + “Is not Mdlle. Florine, with whom I came, still here, sister?” + asked the needlewoman. + </p> + <p> + “She could not wait for you any longer. No doubt, you have come from + our mother the superior?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes, sister,” answered the sempstress, casting down her + eyes; “would you have the goodness to show me the way out?” + </p> + <p> + “Come with me.” + </p> + <p> + The sewing-girl followed the nun, trembling at every step lest she should + meet the superior, who would naturally have inquired the cause of her long + stay in the convent. + </p> + <p> + At length the inner gate closed upon Mother Bunch. Passing rapidly across + the vast court-yard and approaching the porter’s lodge, to ask him + to let her out, she heard these words pronounced in a gruff voice: “It + seems, old Jerome, that we are to be doubly on our guard to-night. Well, I + shall put two extra balls in my gun. The superior says we are to make two + rounds instead of one.” + </p> + <p> + “I want no gun, Nicholas,” said the other voice; “I have + my sharp scythe, a true gardener’s weapon—and none the worse + for that.” + </p> + <p> + Feeling an involuntary uneasiness at these words, which she had heard by + mere chance, Mother Bunch approached the porter’s lodge, and asked + him to open the outer gate. + </p> + <p> + “Where do you come from?” challenged the porter, leaning half + way out of his lodge, with a double barrelled gun, which he was occupied + in loading, in his hand, and at the same time examining the sempstress + with a suspicious air. + </p> + <p> + “I come from speaking to the superior,” answered Mother Bunch + timidly. + </p> + <p> + “Is that true?” said Nicholas roughly. “You look like a + sanctified scarecrow. Never mind. Make haste and cut!” + </p> + <p> + The gate opened, and Mother Bunch went out. Hardly had she gone a few + steps in the sweet, when, to her great surprise, she saw the dog Spoil + sport run up to her, and his master, Dagobert, a little way behind him, + arriving also with precipitation. She was hastening to meet the soldier, + when a full, sonorous voice exclaimed from a little distance: “Oh my + good sister!” which caused the girl to turn round. From the opposite + side to that whence Dagobert was coming, she saw Agricola hurrying towards + the spot. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0062" id="link2HCH0062"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER IX. THE ENCOUNTERS. + </h2> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">A</span>t the sight of + Dagobert and Agricola, Mother Bunch remained motionless with surprise, a + few steps from the convent-gate. The soldier had not yet perceived the + sempstress. He advanced rapidly, following the dog, who though lean, + half-starved, rough-coated, and dirty, seemed to frisk with pleasure, as + he turned his intelligent face towards his master, to whom he had gone + back, after caressing Mother Bunch. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes; I understand you, old fellow!” said the soldier, + with emotion. “You are more faithful than I was; you did not leave + the dear children for a minute. Yes, you followed them, and watched day + and night, without food, at the door of the house to which they were taken—and, + at length, weary of waiting to see them come forth, ran home to fetch me. + Yes; whilst I was giving way to despair, like a furious madman, you were + doing what I ought to have done—discovering their retreat. What does + it all prove? Why, that beasts are better than men—which is well + known. Well, at length I shall see them again. When I think that tomorrow + is the 13th, and that without you, my did Spoil-sport, all would be lost—it + makes me shudder. But I say, shall we soon be there? What a deserted + quarter! and night coming on!” + </p> + <p> + Dagobert had held this discourse to Spoil-sport, as he walked along + following the good dog, who kept on at a rapid pace. Suddenly, seeing the + faithful animal start aside with a bound, he raised his eyes, and + perceived the dog frisking about the hunchback and Agricola, who had just + met at a little distance from the convent-gate. + </p> + <p> + “Mother Bunch?” exclaimed both father and son, as they + approached the young workwoman, and looked at her with extreme surprise. + </p> + <p> + “There is good hope, M. Dagobert,” said she with inexpressible + joy. “Rose and Blanche are found!” Then, turning towards the + smith, she added, “There is good hope, Agricola: Mdlle. de + Cardoville is not mad. I have just seen her.” + </p> + <p> + “She is not mad? what happiness!” exclaimed the smith. + </p> + <p> + “The children!” cried Dagobert, trembling with emotion, as he + took the work-girl’s hands in his own. “You have seen them?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; just now—very sad—very unhappy—but I was not + able to speak to them.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” said Dagobert, stopping as if suffocated by the news, + and pressing his hands on his bosom; “I never thought that my old + heart could beat so!—And yet, thanks to my dog, I almost expected + what has taken place. Anyhow, I am quite dizzy with joy.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, father, it’s a good day,” said Agricola, looking + gratefully at the girl. + </p> + <p> + “Kiss me, my dear child!” added the soldier, as he pressed + Mother Bunch affectionately in his arms; then, full of impatience, he + added: “Come, let us go and fetch the children.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, my good sister!” said Agricola, deeply moved; “you + will restore peace, perhaps life, to my father—and Mdlle. de + Cardoville—but how do you know?” + </p> + <p> + “A mere chance. And how did you come here?” + </p> + <p> + “Spoil-sport stops and barks,” cried Dagobert, who had already + made several steps in advance. + </p> + <p> + Indeed the dog, who was as impatient as his master to see the orphans, and + far better informed as to the place of their retreat, had posted himself + at the convent gate, and was beginning to bark, to attract the attention + of Dagobert. Understanding his dog, the latter said to the hunchback, as + he pointed in that direction with his finger: “The children are + there?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, M. Dagobert.” + </p> + <p> + “I was sure of it. Good dog!—Oh, yes! beasts are better than + men—except you, my dear girl, who are better than either man or + beast. But my poor children! I shall see them, I shall have them once + more!” + </p> + <p> + So saying, Dagobert, in spite of his age, began to run very fast towards + Spoil-sport. “Agricola,” cried Mother Bunch, “prevent + thy father from knocking at that door. He would ruin all.” + </p> + <p> + In two strides, the smith had reached his father, just as the latter was + raising his hand to the knocker. “Stop, father!” cried the + smith, as he seized Dagobert by the arm. + </p> + <p> + “What the devil is it now?” + </p> + <p> + “Mother Bunch says that to knock would ruin all.” + </p> + <p> + “How so?” + </p> + <p> + “She will explain it to you.” Although not so nimble as + Agricola, Mother Bunch soon came up, and said to the soldier: “M. + Dagobert, do not let us remain before this gate. They might open it, and + see us; and that would excite suspicion. Let us rather go away—” + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:65%;"> + <img src="images/20101m.jpg" alt="20101m” width=" /><br /> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/20101.jpg"><i>Original</i></a> + </h5> + <p> + “Suspicion!” cried the veteran, much surprised, but without + moving from the gate; “what suspicion?” + </p> + <p> + “I conjure you, do not remain there!” said Mother Bunch, with + so much earnestness, that Agricola joined her, and said to his father: + “Since sister rashes it, father, she has some reason for it. The + Boulevard de l’Hopital is a few steps from here; nobody passes that + way; we can talk there without being interrupted.” + </p> + <p> + “Devil take me if I understand a word of all this!” cried + Dagobert, without moving from his post. “The children are here, and + I will fetch them away with me. It is an affair of ten minutes.” + </p> + <p> + “Do not think that, M. Dagobert,” said Mother Bunch. “It + is much more difficult than you imagine. But come! come!—I can hear + them talk in the court-yard.” + </p> + <p> + In fact, the sound of voices was now distinctly audible. “Come + father!” said Agricola, forcing away the soldier, almost in spite of + himself. Spoil-sport, who appeared much astonished at these hesitations, + barked two or three times without quitting his post, as if to protest + against this humiliating retreat; but, being called by Dagobert, he + hastened to rejoin the main body. + </p> + <p> + It was now about five o’clock in the evening. A high wind swept + thick masses of grayish, rainy cloud rapidly across the sky. The Boulevard + de l’Hopital, which bordered on this portion of the convent-garden, + was, as we before said, almost deserted. Dagobert, Agricola, and the + serving girl could hold a private conference in this solitary place. + </p> + <p> + The soldier did not disguise the extreme impatience that these delays + occasioned in him. Hardly had they turned the corner of the street, when + he said to Mother Bunch: “Come, my child, explain yourself. I am + upon hot coals.” + </p> + <p> + “The house in which the daughters of Marshal Simon are confined is a + convent, M. Dagobert.” + </p> + <p> + “A convent!” cried the soldier: “I might have suspected + it.” Then he added: “Well, what then? I will fetch them from a + convent as soon as from any other place. Once is not always.” + </p> + <p> + “But, M. Dagobert, they are confined against their will and against + yours. They will not give them up.” + </p> + <p> + “They will not give them up? Zounds! we will see about that.” + And he made a step towards the street. + </p> + <p> + “Father,” said Agricola, holding him back, “one moment’s + patience; let us hear all.” + </p> + <p> + “I will hear nothing. What! the children are there—two steps + from me—I know it—and I shall not have them, either by fair + means or foul? Oh! that would indeed be curious. Let me go.” + </p> + <p> + “Listen to me, I beseech you, M. Dagobert,” said Mother Bunch, + taking his hand: “there is another way to deliver these poor + children. And that without violence—for violence, as Mdlle. de + Cardoville told me, would ruin all.” + </p> + <p> + “If there is any other way—quick—let me know it!” + </p> + <p> + “Here is a ring of Mdlle. de Cardoville’s.” + </p> + <p> + “And who is this Mdlle. de Cardoville?” + </p> + <p> + “Father,” said Agricola, “it is the generous young lady, + who offered to be my bail, and to whom I have very important matters to + communicate.” + </p> + <p> + “Good, good,” replied Dagobert; “we will talk of that + presently. Well, my dear girl—this ring?” + </p> + <p> + “You must take it directly, M. Dagobert, to the Count de Montbron, + No. 7, Place Vendome. He appears to be a person of influence, and is a + friend of Mdlle. de Cardoville’s. This ring will prove that you come + on her behalf, and you will tell him, that she is confined as a lunatic in + the asylum next door to this convent, in which the daughters of Marshal + Simon are detained against their will.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, well—what next?” + </p> + <p> + “Then the Count de Montbron will take the proper steps with persons + in authority, to restore both Mdlle. de Cardoville and the daughters of + Marshal Simon to liberty—and perhaps, to-morrow, or the day after—” + </p> + <p> + “To-morrow or the day after!” cried Dagobert; “perhaps?—It + is to-day, on the instant, that I must have them. The day after to-morrow + would be of much use! Thanks, my good girl, but keep your ring: I will + manage my own business. Wait for me here, my boy.” + </p> + <p> + “What are you going to do, father?” cried Agricola, still + holding back the soldier. “It is a convent, remember.” + </p> + <p> + “You are only a raw recruit; I have my theory of convents at my + fingers’ end. In Spain, I have put it in practice a hundred times. + Here is what will happen. I knock; a portress opens the door to me; she + asks me what I want, but I make no answer; she tries to stop me, but I + pass on; once in the convent, I walk over it from top to bottom, calling + my children with all my might.” + </p> + <p> + “But, M. Dagobert, the nuns?” said Mother Bunch, still trying + to detain the soldier. + </p> + <p> + “The nuns run after me, screaming like so many magpies. I know them. + At Seville I fetched out an Andalusian girl, whom they were trying to keep + by force. Well, I walk about the convent calling for Rose and Blanche. + They hear me, and answer. If they are shut in, I take the first piece of + furniture that comes to hand, and break open the door.” + </p> + <p> + “But, M. Dagobert—the nuns—the nuns?” + </p> + <p> + “The nuns, with all their squalling, will not prevent my breaking + open the door, seizing my children in my arms, and carrying them off. + Should the outer door be shut, there will be a second smash—that’s + all. So,” added Dagobert, disengaging himself from the grasp, + “wait for me here. In ten minutes I shall be back again. Go and get + a hackney-coach ready, my boy.” + </p> + <p> + More calm than Dagobert, and, above all, better informed as to the + provisions of the Penal Code, Agricola was alarmed at the consequences + that might attend the veteran’s strange mode of proceeding. So, + throwing himself before him, he exclaimed: “One word more, I entreat + you.” + </p> + <p> + “Zounds! make haste!” + </p> + <p> + “If you attempt to enter the convent by force, you will ruin all.” + </p> + <p> + “How so?” + </p> + <p> + “First of all, M. Dagobert,” said Mother Bunch, “there + are men in the convent. As I came out just now, I saw the porter loading + his gun, and heard the gardener talking of his sharp scythe, and the + rounds he was to make at night.” + </p> + <p> + “Much I care for a porter’s gun and a gardener’s scythe!” + </p> + <p> + “Well, father; but listen to me a moment, I conjure you. Suppose you + knock, and the door is opened—the porter will ask you what you want.’ + </p> + <p> + “I tell him that I wish to speak to the superior, and so walk into + the convent.” + </p> + <p> + “But, M. Dagobert,” said Mother Bunch, “when once you + have crossed the court-yard, you reach a second door, with a wicket. A nun + comes to it, to see who rings, and does not open the door till she knows + the object of the visit.” + </p> + <p> + “I will tell her that I wish to see the lady superior.” + </p> + <p> + “Then, father, as you are not known in the convent, they will go and + inform the superior.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, what then?” + </p> + <p> + “She will come down.” + </p> + <p> + “What next?” + </p> + <p> + “She will ask you what you want, M. Dagobert.” + </p> + <p> + “What I want?—the devil! my children!” + </p> + <p> + “One minute’s patience, father. You cannot doubt, from the + precautions they have taken, that they wish to detain these young ladies + against their will, and against yours.” + </p> + <p> + “Doubt! I am sure of it. To come to that point, they began by + turning the head of my poor wife.” + </p> + <p> + “Then, father, the superior will reply to you that she does not know + what you mean, and that the young ladies are not in the convent.” + </p> + <p> + “And I will reply to her, that they are in the convent witness—Mother + Bunch and Spoil-sport.” + </p> + <p> + “The superior will answer, that she does not know you; that she has + no explanations to give you; and will close the wicket.” + </p> + <p> + “Then I break it open—since one must come to that in the end—so + leave me alone, I tell you! ‘sblood! leave me alone!” + </p> + <p> + “And, on this noise and violence, the porter will run and fetch the + guard, and they will begin by arresting you.” + </p> + <p> + “And what will become of your poor children, then, M. Dagobert?” + said Mother Bunch. + </p> + <p> + Agricola’s father had too much good sense not to feel the truth of + these observations of the girl and his son; but he knew also, that, cost + what it might, the orphans must be delivered before the morrow. The + alternative was terrible—so terrible, that, pressing his two hands + to his burning forehead, Dagobert sunk back upon a stone bench, as if + struck down by the inexorable fatality of the dilemma. + </p> + <p> + Agricola and the workwoman, deeply moved by this mute despair, exchanged a + sad look. The smith, seating himself beside the soldier, said to him: + “Do not be down-hearted, father. Remember what’s been told + you. By going with this ring of Mdlle. de Cardoville’s to the + influential gentleman she named, the young ladies may be free by + to-morrow, or, at worst, by the day after.” + </p> + <p> + “Blood and thunder! you want to drive me mad!” exclaimed + Dagobert, starting up from the bench, and looking at Mother Bunch and his + son with so savage an expression that Agricola and the sempstress drew + back, with an air of surprise and uneasiness. + </p> + <p> + “Pardon me, my children!” said Dagobert, recovering himself + after a long silence. “I am wrong to get in a passion, for we do not + understand one another. What you say is true; and yet I am right to speak + as I do. Listen to me. You are an honest man, Agricola; you an honest + girl; what I tell you is meant for you alone. I have brought these + children from the depths of Siberia—do you know why? That they may + be to-morrow morning in the Rue Saint-Francois. If they are not there, I + have failed to execute the last wish of their dying mother.” + </p> + <p> + “No. 3, Rue Saint Francois?” cried Agricola, interrupting his + father. + </p> + <p> + “Yes; how do you know the number?” said Dagobert. + </p> + <p> + “Is not the date inscribed on a bronze medal?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” replied Dagobert, more end more surprised; “who + told you?” + </p> + <p> + “One instant, father!” exclaimed Agricola; “let me + reflect. I think I guess it. Did you not tell me, my good sister, that + Mdlle. de Cardoville was not mad?” + </p> + <p> + “Not mad. They detain her in this asylum to prevent her + communicating with any one. She believes herself, like the daughters of + Marshal Simon, the victim of an odious machination.” + </p> + <p> + “No doubt of it,” cried the smith. “I understand all + now, Mdlle. de Cardoville has the same interest as the orphans to appear + to-morrow at the Rue Saint-Francois. But she does not perhaps know it.” + </p> + <p> + “How so?” + </p> + <p> + “One word more, my good girl. Did Mdlle. de Cardoville tell you that + she had a powerful motive to obtain her freedom by to-morrow?” + </p> + <p> + “No; for when she gave me this ring for the Count de Montbron, she + said to me: ‘By this means both I and Marshal Simon’s + daughters will be at liberty either to-morrow or the day after—‘” + </p> + <p> + “But explain yourself, then,” said Dagobert to his son, with + impatience. + </p> + <p> + “Just now,” replied the smith, “when you came to seek me + in prison, I told you, father, that I had a sacred duty to perform, and + that I would rejoin you at home.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; and I went, on my side, to take some measures, of which I will + speak to you presently.” + </p> + <p> + “I ran instantly to the house in the Rue de Babylone, not knowing + that Mdlle. de Cardoville was mad, or passed for mad. A servant, who + opened the door to me, informed me that the young lady had been seized + with a sudden attack of madness. You may conceive, father, what a blow + that was to me! I asked where she was: they answered, that they did not + know. I asked if I could speak to any of the family; as my jacket did not + inspire any great confidence, they replied that none of her family were at + present there. I was in despair, but an idea occurred to me. I said to + myself: ‘If she is mad, her family physician must know where they + have taken her; if she is in a state to hear me, he will take me to her; + if not, I will speak to her doctor, as I would to her relations. A doctor + is often a friend.’ I asked the servant, therefore, to give me the + doctor’s address. I obtained it without difficulty—Dr. + Baleinier, No. 12, Rue Taranne. I ran thither, but he had gone out; they + told me that I should find him about five o’clock at his asylum, + which is next door to the convent. That is how we have met.” + </p> + <p> + “But the medal—the medal?” said Dagobert, impatiently; + “where did you see it?” + </p> + <p> + “It is with regard to this and other things that I wished to make + important communications to Mdlle. de Cardoville.” + </p> + <p> + “And what are these communications?” + </p> + <p> + “The fact is, father, I had gone to her the day of your departure, + to beg her to get me bail. I was followed; and when she learned this from + her waiting-woman, she concealed me in a hiding-place. It was a sort of + little vaulted room, in which no light was admitted, except through a + tunnel, made like a chimney; yet in a few minutes, I could see pretty + clearly. Having nothing better to do, I looked all about me and saw that + the walls were covered with wainscoting. The entrance to this room was + composed of a sliding panel, moving by means of weights and wheels + admirably contrived. As these concern my trade, I was interested in them, + so I examined the springs, spite of my emotion, with curiosity, and + understood the nature of their play; but there was one brass knob, of + which I could not discover the use. It was in vain to pull and move it + from right to left, none of the springs were touched. I said to myself: + ‘This knob, no doubt, belongs to another piece of mechanism’—and + the idea occurred to me, instead of drawing it towards me, to push it with + force. Directly after, I heard a grating sound, and perceived, just above + the entrance to the hiding-place, one of the panels, about two feet + square, fly open like the door of a secretary. As I had, no doubt, pushed + the spring rather too hard, a bronze medal and chain fell out with a + shock.” + </p> + <p> + “And you saw the address—Rue Saint-Francois?” cried + Dagobert. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, father; and with this medal, a sealed letter fell to the + ground. On picking it up, I saw that it was addressed, in large letters: + ‘For Mdlle. de Cardoville. To be opened by her the moment it is + delivered.’ Under these words, I saw the initials ‘R.’ + and ‘C.,’ accompanied by a flourish, and this date: ‘Paris, + November the 13th, 1830.’ On the other side of the envelope I + perceived two seals, with the letters ‘R.’ and ‘C.,’ + surmounted by a coronet.” + </p> + <p> + “And the seals were unbroken?” asked Mother Bunch. + </p> + <p> + “Perfectly whole.” + </p> + <p> + “No doubt, then, Mdlle. de Cardoville was ignorant of the existence + of these papers,” said the sempstress. + </p> + <p> + “That was my first idea, since she was recommended to open the + letter immediately, and, notwithstanding this recommendation, which bore + date two years back, the seals remained untouched.” + </p> + <p> + “It is evident,” said Dagobert. “What did you do?” + </p> + <p> + “I replaced the whole where it was before, promising myself to + inform Mdlle. de Cardoville of it. But, a few minutes after, they entered + my hiding-place, which had been discovered, and I did not see her again. I + was only able to whisper a few words of doubtful meaning to one of her + waiting-women, on the subject of what I had found, hoping thereby to + arouse the attention of her mistress; and, as soon as I was able to write + to you, my good sister, I begged you to go and call upon Mdlle. de + Cardoville.” + </p> + <p> + “But this medal,” said Dagobert, “is exactly like that + possessed by the daughter of Marshal Simon. How can you account for that?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing so plain, father. Mdlle. de Cardoville is their relation. I + remember now, that she told me so.” + </p> + <p> + “A relation of Rose and Blanche?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” added Mother Bunch; “she told that also to me + just now.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, then,” resumed Dagobert, looking anxiously at his son, + “do you now understand why I must have my children this very day? Do + you now understand, as their poor mother told me on her death-bed, that + one day’s delay might ruin all? Do you now see that I cannot be + satisfied with a perhaps to-morrow, when I have come all the way from + Siberia, only, that those children might be to-morrow in the Rue + Saint-Francois? Do you at last perceive that I must have them this night, + even if I have to set fire to the convent?” + </p> + <p> + “But, father, if you employ violence—” + </p> + <p> + “Zounds! do you know what the commissary of police answered me this + morning, when I went to renew my charge against your mother’s + confessor? He said to me that there was no proof, and that they could do + nothing.” + </p> + <p> + “But now there is proof, father, for at least we know where the + young girls are. With that certainty we shall be strong. The law is more + powerful than all the superiors of convents in the world.” + </p> + <p> + “And the Count de Montbron, to whom Mdlle. de Cardoville begs you to + apply,” said Mother Bunch, “is a man of influence. Tell him + the reasons that make it so important for these young ladies, as well as + Mdlle. de Cardoville, to be at liberty this evening and he will certainly + hasten the course of justice, and to-night your children will be restored + to you.” + </p> + <p> + “Sister is in the right, father. Go to the Count. Meanwhile, I will + run to the commissary, and tell him that we now know where the young girls + are confined. Do you go home, and wait for us, my good girl. We will meet + at our own house!” + </p> + <p> + Dagobert had remained plunged in thought; suddenly, he said to Agricola: + “Be it so. I will follow your counsel. But suppose the commissary + says to you: ‘We cannot act before to-morrow’—suppose + the Count de Montbron says to me the same thing—do not think I shall + stand with my arms folded until the morning.” + </p> + <p> + “But, father—” + </p> + <p> + “It is enough,” resumed the soldier in an abrupt voice: + “I have made up my mind. Run to the commissary, my boy; wait for us + at home, my good girl; I will go to the Count. Give me the ring. Now for + the address!” + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:65%;"> + <img src="images/20109m.jpg" alt="20109m” width=" /><br /> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/20109.jpg"><i>Original</i></a> + </h5> + <p> + “The Count de Montbron, No. 7, Place Vendome,” said she; + “you come on behalf of Mdlle. de Cardoville.” + </p> + <p> + “I have a good memory,” answered the soldier. “We will + meet as soon as possible in the Rue Brise-Miche.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, father; have good courage. You will see that the law protects + and defends honest people.” + </p> + <p> + “So much the better,” said the soldier; “because, + otherwise, honest people would be obliged to protect and defend + themselves. Farewell, my children! we will meet soon in the Rue + Brise-Miche.” + </p> + <p> + When Dagobert, Agricola, and Mother Bunch separated, it was already dark + night. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0063" id="link2HCH0063"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER X. THE MEETING. + </h2> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">I</span>t is eight o’clock + in the evening, the rain dashes against the windows of Frances Baudoin’s + apartment in the Rue Brise-Miche, while violent squalls of wind shake the + badly dosed doors and casements. The disorder and confusion of this humble + abode, usually kept with so much care and neatness, bore testimony to the + serious nature of the sad events which had thus disturbed existences + hitherto peaceful in their obscurity. + </p> + <p> + The paved floor was soiled with mud, and a thick layer of dust covered the + furniture, once so bright and clean. Since Frances was taken away by the + commissary, the bed had not been made; at night Dagobert had thrown + himself upon it for a few hours in his clothes, when, worn out with + fatigue, and crushed by despair, he had returned from new and vain + attempts to discover Rose and Blanche’s prison-house. Upon the + drawers stood a bottle, a glass, and some fragments of dry bread, proving + the frugality of the soldier, whose means of subsistence were reduced to + the money lent by the pawnbroker upon the things pledged by Mother Bunch, + after the arrest of Frances. + </p> + <p> + By the faint glimmer of a candle, placed upon the little stove, now cold + as marble, for the stock of wood had long been exhausted, one might have + seen the hunchback sleeping upon a chair, her head resting on her bosom, + her hands concealed beneath her cotton apron, and her feet resting on the + lowest rung of the chair; from time to time, she shivered in her damp, + chill garments. + </p> + <p> + After that long day of fatigue and diverse emotions, the poor creature had + eaten nothing. Had she even thought of it, she would have been at a loss + for bread. Waiting for the return of Dagobert and Agricola, she had sunk + into an agitated sleep—very different, alas! from calm and + refreshing slumber. From time to time, she half opened her eyes uneasily, + and looked around her. Then, again, overcome by irresistible heaviness, + her head fell upon her bosom. + </p> + <p> + After some minutes of silence, only interrupted by the noise of the wind, + a slow and heavy step was heard on the landing-place. The door opened, and + Dagobert entered, followed by Spoil-sport. + </p> + <p> + Waking with a start, Mother Bunch raised her head hastily, sprang from her + chair, and, advancing rapidly to meet Agricola’s father, said to + him: “Well, M. Dagobert! have you good news? Have you—” + </p> + <p> + She could not continue, she was so struck with the gloomy expression of + the soldier’s features. Absorbed in his reflections, he did not at + first appear to perceive the speaker, but threw himself despondingly on a + chair, rested his elbows upon the table, and hid his face in his hands. + After a long meditation, he rose, and said in a low voice: “It must—yes, + it must be done!” + </p> + <p> + Taking a few steps up and down the room, Dagobert looked around him, as if + in search of something. At length, after about a minute’s + examination, he perceived near the stove, a bar of iron, perhaps two feet + long, serving to lift the covers, when too hot for the fingers. Taking + this in his hand, he looked at it closely, poised it to judge of its + weight, and then laid it down upon the drawers with an air of + satisfaction. Surprised at the long silence of Dagobert, the needlewoman + followed his movements with timid and uneasy curiosity. But soon her + surprise gave way to fright, when she saw the soldier take down his + knapsack, place it upon a chair, open it, and draw from it a pair of + pocket-pistols, the locks of which he tried with the utmost caution. + </p> + <p> + Seized with terror, the sempstress could not forbear exclaiming: “Good + gracious, M. Dagobert! what are you going to do?” + </p> + <p> + The soldier looked at her as if he only now perceived her for the first + time, and said to her in a cordial, but abrupt voice: “Good-evening, + my good girl! What is the time?” + </p> + <p> + “Eight o’clock has just struck at Saint-Mery’s, M. + Dagobert.” + </p> + <p> + “Eight o’clock,” said the soldier, speaking to himself; + “only eight!” + </p> + <p> + Placing the pistols by the side of the iron bar, he appeared again to + reflect, while he cast his eyes around him. + </p> + <p> + “M. Dagobert,” ventured the girl, “you have not, then, + good news?” + </p> + <p> + “No.” + </p> + <p> + That single word was uttered by the soldier in so sharp a tone, that, not + daring to question him further, Mother Bunch sat down in silence. Spoil + sport came to lean his head on the knees of the girl, and followed the + movements of Dagobert with as much curiosity as herself. + </p> + <p> + After remaining for some moments pensive and silent, the soldier + approached the bed, took a sheet from it, appeared to measure its length, + and then said, turning towards Mother Bunch: “The scissors!” + </p> + <p> + “But, M. Dagobert—” + </p> + <p> + “Come, my good girl! the scissors!” replied Dagobert, in a + kind tone, but one that commanded obedience. The sempstress took the + scissors from Frances’ work-basket, and presented them to the + soldier. + </p> + <p> + “Now, hold the other end of the sheet, my girl, and draw it out + tight.” + </p> + <p> + In a few minutes, Dagobert had cut the sheet into four strips, which he + twisted in the fashion of cords, fastening them here and there with bits + of tape, so as to preserve the twist, and tying them strongly together, so + as to make a rope of about twenty feet long. This, however, did not + suffice him, for he said to himself: “Now I must have a hook.” + </p> + <p> + Again he looked around him, and Mother Bunch, more and more frightened, + for she now no longer doubted Dagobert’s designs, said to him + timidly: “M. Dagobert, Agricola has not yet come in. It may be some + good news that makes him so late.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said the soldier, bitterly, as he continued to cast + round his eyes in search of something he wanted; “good news like + mine! But I must have a strong iron hook.” + </p> + <p> + Still looking about, he found one of the coarse, gray sacks, that Frances + was accustomed to make. He took it, opened it, and said to the work girl: + “Put me the iron bar and the cord into this bag, my girl. It will be + easier to carry.” + </p> + <p> + “Heavens!” cried she, obeying his directions; “you will + not go without seeing Agricola, M. Dagobert? He may perhaps have some good + news to tell you.” + </p> + <p> + “Be satisfied! I shall wait for my boy. I need not start before ten + o’clock—so I have time.” + </p> + <p> + “Alas, M. Dagobert! have you last all hope?” + </p> + <p> + “On the contrary. I have good hope—but in myself.” + </p> + <p> + So saying, Dagobert twisted the upper end of the sack, for the purpose of + closing it, and placed it on the drawers, by the side of his pistols. + </p> + <p> + “At all events, you will wait for Agricola, M. Dagobert?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, if he arrives before ten o’clock.” + </p> + <p> + “Alas; you have then quite made up your mind?” + </p> + <p> + “Quite. And yet, if I were weak enough to believe in bad omens—” + </p> + <p> + “Sometimes, M. Dagobert, omens do not deceive one,” said the + girl, hoping to induce the soldier to abandon his dangerous resolution. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” resumed Dagobert; “old women say so—and, + although I am not an old woman, what I saw just now weighed heavily on my + heart. After all, I may have taken a feeling of anger for a presentiment.” + </p> + <p> + “What have you seen?” + </p> + <p> + “I will tell it you, my good girl; it may help to pass the time, + which appears long enough.” Then, interrupting himself, he + exclaimed: “Was it the half hour that just struck?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, M. Dagobert; it is half-past eight.” + </p> + <p> + “Still an hour and a half,” said Dagobert, in a hollow voice. + “This,” he added, “is what I saw. As I came along the + street, my notice was attracted by a large red placard, at the head of + which was a black panther devouring a white horse. That sight gave me a + turn, for you must know, my good girl, that a black panther destroyed a + poor old white horse that I had, Spoil-sport’s companion, whose name + was Jovial.” + </p> + <p> + At the sound of this name, once so familiar, Spoil-sport, who was + crouching at the workwoman’s feet, raised his head hastily, and + looked at Dagobert. + </p> + <p> + “You see that beasts have memory—he recollects,” said + the soldier, sighing himself at the remembrance. Then, addressing his dog + he added: “Dost remember Jovial?” + </p> + <p> + On hearing this name a second time pronounced by his master, in a voice of + emotion, Spoil-sport gave a low whine, as if to indicate that he had not + forgotten his old travelling companion. + </p> + <p> + “It was, indeed, a melancholy incident, M. Dagobert,” said + Mother Bunch, “to find upon this placard a panther devouring a + horse.” + </p> + <p> + “That is nothing to what’s to come; you shall hear the rest. I + drew near the bill, and read in it, that one Morok, just arrived from + Germany, is about to exhibit in a theatre different wild beasts that he + tamed, among others a splendid lion, a tiger, and a black Java panther + named Death.” + </p> + <p> + “What an awful name!” said the hearer. + </p> + <p> + “You will think it more awful, my child, when I tell you, that this + is the very panther which strangled my horse at Leipsic, four months ago.” + </p> + <p> + “Good Heaven! you are right, M. Dagobert,” said the girl, + “it is awful.” + </p> + <p> + “Wait a little,” said Dagobert, whose countenance was growing + more and more gloomy, “that is not all. It was by means of this very + Morok, the owner of the panther, that I and my poor children were + imprisoned in Leipsic.” + </p> + <p> + “And this wicked man is in Paris, and wishes you evil?” said + Mother Bunch. “Oh! you are right, M. Dagobert; you must take care of + yourself; it is a bad omen.” + </p> + <p> + “For him, if I catch him,” said Dagobert, in a hollow tone. + “We have old accounts to settle.” + </p> + <p> + “M. Dagobert,” cried Mother Bunch, listening; “some one + is running up the stairs. It is Agricola’s footsteps. I am sure he + has good news.” + </p> + <p> + “That will just do,” said the soldier, hastily, without + answering. “Agricola is a smith. He will be able to find me the iron + hook.” + </p> + <p> + A few moments after, Agricola entered the room; but, alas! the sempstress + perceived at the first glance, in the dejected countenance of the workman, + the ruin of her cherished hopes. + </p> + <p> + “Well!” said Dagobert to his son, in a tone which clearly + announced the little faith he attached to the steps taken by Agricola; + “well, what news?” + </p> + <p> + “Father, it is enough to drive one mad—to make one dash one’s + brains out against the wall!” cried the smith in a rage. + </p> + <p> + Dagobert turned towards Mother Bunch, and said: “You see, my poor + child—I was sure of it.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, father,” cried Agricola; “have you seen the Court + de Montbron?” + </p> + <p> + “The Count de Montbron set out for Lorraine three days ago. That is + my good news,” continued the soldier, with bitter irony; “let + us have yours—I long to know all. I need to know, if, on appealing + to the laws, which, as you told me, protect and defend honest people, it + ever happens that the rogues get the best of it. I want to know this, and + then I want an iron hook—so I count upon you for both.” + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean, father?” + </p> + <p> + “First, tell me what you have done. We have time. It is not much + more than half-past eight. On leaving me, where did you go first?” + </p> + <p> + “To the commissary, who had already received your depositions.” + </p> + <p> + “What did he say to you?” + </p> + <p> + “After having very kindly listened to all I had to state, he + answered, that these young girls were placed in a respectable house, a + convent—so that there did not appear any urgent necessity for their + immediate removal—and besides, he could not take upon himself to + violate the sanctity of a religious dwelling upon your simple testimony; + to-morrow, he will make his report to the proper authorities, and steps + will be taken accordingly.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes—plenty of put offs,” said the soldier. + </p> + <p> + “‘But, sir,’ answered I to him,” resumed Agricola, + “‘it is now, this very night, that you ought to act, for if + these young girls should not be present to-morrow morning in the Rue Saint + Francois, their interests may suffer incalculable damage. ‘I am very + sorry for it,’ replied he, ‘but I cannot, upon your simple + declaration, or that of your father, who—like yourself—is no + relation or connection of these young persons, act in direct opposition to + forms, which could not be set aside, even on the demand of a family. The + law has its delays and its formalities, to which we are obliged to submit.’” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly!” said Dagobert. “We must submit to them, at + the risk of becoming cowardly, ungrateful traitors!” + </p> + <p> + “Didst speak also of Mdlle. de Cardoville to him?” asked the + work-girl. + </p> + <p> + “Yes—but he: answered me on this subject in much the same + manner: ‘It was very serious; there was no proof in support of my + deposition. A third party had told me that Mdlle. de Cardoville affirms + she was not mad; but all mad people pretend to be sane. He could not, + therefore, upon my sole testimony, take upon himself to enter the house of + a respectable physician. But he would report upon it, and the law would + have its course—‘” + </p> + <p> + “When I wished to act just now for myself,” said Dagobert, + “did I not forsee all this? And yet I was weak enough to listen to + you.” + </p> + <p> + “But, father, what you wished to attempt was impossible, and you + agreed that it would expose you to far too dangerous consequences.” + </p> + <p> + “So,” resumed the soldier, without answering his son, “they + told you in plain terms, that we must not think of obtaining legally the + release of Rose and Blanche this evening or even to-morrow morning?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, father. In the eyes of the law, there is no special urgency. + The question may not be decided for two or three days.” + </p> + <p> + “That is all I wished to know,” said Dagobert, rising and + walking up and down the room. + </p> + <p> + “And yet,” resumed his son, “I did not consider myself + beaten. In despair, but believing that justice could not remain deaf to + such equitable claims, I ran to the Palais de Justice, hoping to find + there a judge, a magistrate who would receive my complaint, and act upon + it.” + </p> + <p> + “Well?” said the soldier, stopping him. + </p> + <p> + “I was told that the courts shut every day at five o’clock, + and do not open again til ten in the morning. Thinking of your despair, + and of the position of poor Mdlle. de Cardoville, I determined to make one + more attempt. I entered a guard-house of troops of the line, commanded by + a lieutenant. I told him all. He saw that I was so much moved, and I spoke + with such warmth and conviction, that he became interested.—‘Lieutenant,’ + said I to him, ‘grant me one favor; let a petty officer and two + soldiers go to the convent to obtain a legal entrance. Let them ask to see + the daughters of Marshal Simon, and learn whether it is their choice to + remain, or return to my father, who brought them from Russia. You will + then see if they are not detained against their will—‘” + </p> + <p> + “And what answer did he give you, Agricola?” asked Mother + Bunch, while Dagobert shrugged his shoulders, and continued to walk up and + down. + </p> + <p> + “‘My good fellow,’ said he, ‘what you ask me is + impossible. I understand your motives, but I cannot take upon myself so + serious a measure. I should be broke were I to enter a convent by force.—‘Then, + sir, what am I to do? It is enough to turn one’s head.’—‘Faith, + I don’t know,’ said the lieutenant; ‘it will be safest, + I think, to wait.’—Then, believing I had done all that was + possible, father, I resolved to come back, in the hope that you might have + been more fortunate than I—but, alas! I was deceived!” + </p> + <p> + So saying, the smith sank upon a chair, for he was worn out with anxiety + and fatigue. There was a moment of profound silence after these words of + Agricola, which destroyed the last hopes of the three, mute and crushed + beneath the strokes of inexorable fatality. + </p> + <p> + A new incident came to deepen the sad and painful character of this scene. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0064" id="link2HCH0064"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XI. DISCOVERIES. + </h2> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>he door which + Agricola had not thought of fastening opened, as it were, timidly, and + Frances Baudoin, Dagobert’s wife, pale, sinking, hardly able to + support herself, appeared on the threshold. + </p> + <p> + The soldier, Agricola, and Mother Bunch, were plunged in such deep + dejection, that neither of them at first perceived the entrance. Frances + advanced two steps into the room, fell upon her knees, clasped her hands + together, and said in a weak and humble voice; “My poor husband—pardon!” + </p> + <p> + At these words, Agricola and the work-girl—whose backs were towards + the door—turned round suddenly, and Dagobert hastily raised his + head. + </p> + <p> + “My mother!” cried Agricola, running to Frances. + </p> + <p> + “My wife!” cried Dagobert, as he also rose, and advanced to + meet the unfortunate woman. + </p> + <p> + “On your knees, dear mother!” said Agricola, stooping down to + embrace her affectionately. “Get up, I entreat you!” + </p> + <p> + “No, my child,” said Frances, in her mild, firm accents, + “I will not rise, till your father has forgiven me. I have wronged + him much—now I know it.” + </p> + <p> + “Forgive you, my poor wife?” said the soldier, as he drew near + with emotion. “Have I ever accused you, except in my first transport + of despair? No, no; it was the bad priests that I accused, and there I was + right. Well! I have you again,” added he, assisting his son to raise + Frances; “one grief the less. They have then restored you to + liberty? Yesterday, I could not even learn in what prison they had put + you. I have so many cares that I could not think of you only. But come, + dear wife: sit down!” + </p> + <p> + “How feeble you are, dear mother!—how cold—how pale!” + said Agricola with anguish, his eyes filling with tears. + </p> + <p> + “Why did you not let us know?” added he. “We would have + gone to fetch you. But how you tremble! Your hands are frozen!” + continued the smith, as he knelt down before Frances. Then, turning + towards Mother Bunch: “Pray, make a little fire directly.” + </p> + <p> + “I thought of it, as soon as your father came in, Agricola, but + there is no wood nor charcoal left.” + </p> + <p> + “Then pray borrow some of Father Loriot, my dear sister. He is too + good a fellow to refuse. My poor mother trembles so—she might fall + ill.” + </p> + <p> + Hardly had he said the words, than Mother Bunch went out. The smith rose + from the ground, took the blanket from the bed, and carefully wrapped it + about the knees and feet of his mother. Then, again kneeling down, he said + to her: “Your hands, dear mother!” and, taking those feeble + palms in his own, he tried to warm them with his breath. + </p> + <p> + Nothing could be more touching than this picture: the robust young man, + with his energetic and resolute countenance, expressing by his looks the + greatest tenderness, and paying the most delicate attentions to his poor, + pale, trembling old mother. + </p> + <p> + Dagobert, kind-hearted as his son, went to fetch a pillow, and brought it + to his wife, saying: “Lean forward a little, and I will put this + pillow behind you; you will be more comfortable and warmer.” + </p> + <p> + “How you both spoil me!” said Frances, trying to smile. + “And you to be so kind, after all the ill I have done!” added + she to Dagobert, as, disengaging one of her hands from those of her son, + she took the soldier’s hand and pressed it to her tearful eyes. + “In prison,” said she in a low voice, “I had time to + repent.” + </p> + <p> + Agricola’s heart was near breaking at the thought that his pious and + good mother, with her angelic purity, should for a moment have been + confined in prison with so many miserable creatures. He would have made + some attempt to console her on the subject of the painful past, but he + feared to give a new shock to Dagobert, and was silent. + </p> + <p> + “Where is Gabriel, dear mother?” inquired he. “How is + he? As you have seen him, tell us all about him.” + </p> + <p> + “I have seen Gabriel,” said Frances, drying her tears; “he + is confined at home. His superiors have rigorously forbidden his going + out. Luckily, they did not prevent his receiving me, for his words and + counsels have opened my eyes to many things. It is from him that I learned + how guilty I had been to you, my poor husband.” + </p> + <p> + “How so?” asked Dagobert. + </p> + <p> + “Why, you know that if I caused you so much grief, it was not from + wickedness. When I saw you in such despair, I suffered almost as much + myself; but I durst not tell you so, for fear of breaking my oath. I had + resolved to keep it, believing that I did well, believing that it was my + duty. And yet something told me that it could not be my duty to cause you + so much pain. ‘Alas, my God! enlighten me!’ I exclaimed in my + prison, as I knelt down and prayed, in spite of the mockeries of the other + women. ‘Why should a just and pious work, commanded by my confessor, + the most respectable of men, overwhelm me and mine with so much misery? + ‘Have mercy on me, my God, and teach me if I have done wrong without + knowing it!’ As I prayed with fervor, God heard me, and inspired me + with the idea of applying to Gabriel. ‘I thank Thee, Father! I will + obey!’ said I within myself. ‘Gabriel is like my own child; + but he is also a priest, a martyr—almost a saint. If any one in the + world imitates the charity of our blessed Saviour, it is surely he. When I + leave this prison, I will go and consult him and he will clear up my + doubts.’” + </p> + <p> + “You are right, dear mother,” cried Agricola; “it was a + thought from heaven. Gabriel is an angel of purity, courage, nobleness—the + type of the true and good priest!” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, poor wife!” said Dagobert, with bitterness; “if you + had never had any confessor but Gabriel!” + </p> + <p> + “I thought of it before he went on his journey,” said Frances, + with simplicity. “I should have liked to confess to the dear boy—but + I fancied Abbe Dubois would be offended, and that Gabriel would be too + indulgent with regard to my sins. + </p> + <p> + “Your sins, poor dear mother?” said Agricola. “As if you + ever committed any!” + </p> + <p> + “And what did Gabriel tell you?” asked the soldier. + </p> + <p> + “Alas, my dear! had I but had such an interview with him sooner! + What I told him of Abbe Dubois roused his suspicions, and he questioned + me, dear child, as to many things of which he had never spoken to me + before. Then I opened to him my whole heart, and he did the same to me, + and we both made sad discoveries with regard to persons whom we had always + thought very respectable, and who yet had deceived each of us, unknown to + the other.” + </p> + <p> + “How so?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, they used to tell him, under the seal of secrecy, things that + were supposed to come from me; and they used to tell me, under the same + seal of secrecy, things that were supposed to come from him. Thus, he + confessed to me, that he did not feel at first any vocation for the + priesthood; but they told him that I should not believe myself safe in + this world or in the next, if he did not take orders, because I felt + persuaded that I could best serve the Lord by giving Him so good a + servant; and that yet I had never dared to ask Gabriel himself to give me + this proof of his attachment, though I had taken him from the street, a + deserted orphan, and brought him up as my own son, at the cost of labor + and privations. Then, how could it be otherwise? The poor dear child, + thinking he could please me, sacrificed himself. He entered the seminary.” + </p> + <p> + “Horrible,” said Agricola; “‘tis an infamous + snare, and, for the priests who were guilty of it, a sacrilegious lie!” + </p> + <p> + “During all that time,” resumed Frances, “they were + holding very different language to me. I was told that Gabriel felt his + vocation, but that he durst not avow it to me, for fear of my being + jealous on account of Agricola, who, being brought up as a workman, would + not enjoy the same advantages as those which the priesthood would secure + to Gabriel. So when he asked my permission to enter the seminary dear + child! he entered it with regret, but he thought he was making me so + happy!—instead of discouraging this idea, I did all in my power to + persuade him to follow it, assuring him that he could not do better, and + that it would occasion me great joy. You understand, I exaggerated, for + fear he should think me jealous on account of Agricola.” + </p> + <p> + “What an odious machination!” said Agricola, in amazement. + “They were speculating in this unworthy manner upon your mutual + devotion. Thus Gabriel saw the expression of your dearest wish in the + almost forced encouragement given to his resolution.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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—” + </p> + <p> + 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?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, my dear.” + </p> + <p> + “And this medal and these papers were afterwards delivered to your + confessor?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, my dear.” + </p> + <p> + “And Gabriel never spoke of them since?” + </p> + <p> + “Never.” + </p> + <p> + Agricola, hearing this from his mother, looked at her with surprise, and + exclaimed: “Then Gabriel has the same interest as the daughters of + General Simon, or Mdlle. de Cardoville, to be in the Rue Saint-Francois + to-morrow?” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly,” said Dagobert. “And now do you remember + what he said to us, just after my arrival—that, in a few days, he + would need our support in a serious matter?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, father.” + </p> + <p> + “And he is kept a prisoner at his seminary! And he tells your mother + that he has to complain of his superiors! and he asked us for our support + with so sad and grave an air, that I said to him—” + </p> + <p> + “He would speak so, if about to engage in a deadly duel,” + interrupted Agricola. “True, father! and yet you, who are a good + judge of valor, acknowledged that Gabriel’s courage was equal to + yours. For him so to fear his superiors, the danger must be great indeed.” + </p> + <p> + “Now that I have heard your mother, I understand it all,” said + Dagobert. “Gabriel is like Rose and Blanche, like Mdlle. de + Cardoville, like your mother, like all of us, perhaps—the victim of + a secret conspiracy of wicked priests. Now that I know their dark + machinations, their infernal perseverance, I see,” added the + soldier, in a whisper, “that it requires strength to struggle + against them. I had not the least idea of their power.” + </p> + <p> + “You are right, father; for those who are hypocritical and wicked do + as much harm as those who are good and charitable, like Gabriel, do good. + There is no more implacable enemy than a bad priest.” + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:65%;"> + <img src="images/20125m.jpg" alt="20125m” width=" /><br /> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/20125.jpg"><i>Original</i></a> + </h5> + <p> + “I know it, and that’s what frightens me; for my poor children + are in their hands. But is all lost? Shall I bring myself to give them up + without an effort? Oh, no, no! I will not show any weakness—and yet, + since your mother told us of these diabolical plots, I do not know how it + is but I seem less strong, less resolute. What is passing around me + appears so terrible. The spiriting away of these children is no longer an + isolated fact—it is one of the ramifications of a vast conspiracy, + which surrounds and threatens us all. It seems to me as if I and those I + love walked together in darkness, in the midst of serpents, in the midst + of snares that we can neither see nor struggle against. Well! I’ll + speak out! I have never feared death—I am not a coward and yet I + confess—yes, I confess it—these black robes frighten me—” + </p> + <p> + Dagobert pronounced these words in so sincere a tone, that his son + started, for he shared the same impression. And it was quite natural. + Frank, energetic, resolute characters, accustomed to act and fight in the + light of day, never feel but one fear—and that is, to be ensnared + and struck in the dark by enemies that escape their grasp. Thus, Dagobert + had encountered death twenty times; and yet, on hearing his wife’s + simple revelation of this dark tissue of lies, and treachery, and crime, + the soldier felt a vague sense of fear; and, though nothing was changed in + the conditions of his nocturnal enterprise against the convent, it now + appeared to him in a darker and more dangerous light. + </p> + <p> + The silence, which had reigned for some moments, was interrupted by Mother + Bunch’s return. The latter, knowing that the interview between + Dagobert, his wife, and Agricola, ought not have any importunate witness, + knocked lightly at the door, and remained in the passage with Father + Loriot. + </p> + <p> + “Can we come in, Mme. Frances?” asked the sempstress. “Here + is Father Loriot, bringing some wood.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes; come in, my good girl,” said Agricola, whilst his + father wiped the cold sweat from his forehead. + </p> + <p> + The door opened, and the worthy dyer appeared, with his hands and arms of + an amaranthine color; on one side, he carried a basket of wood, and on the + other some live coal in a shovel. + </p> + <p> + “Good-evening to the company!” said Daddy Loriot. “Thank + you for having thought of me, Mme. Frances. You know that my shop and + everything in it are at your service. Neighbors should help one another; + that’s my motto! You were kind enough, I should think, to my late + wife!” + </p> + <p> + Then, placing the wood in a corner, and giving the shovel to Agricola, the + worthy dyer, guessing from the sorrowful appearance of the different + actors in this scene, that it would be impolite to prolong his visit, + added: “You don’t want anything else, Mme. Frances?” + </p> + <p> + “No, thank you, Father Loriot.” + </p> + <p> + “Then, good-evening to the company!” said the dyer; and, + addressing Mother Bunch, he added: “Don’t forget the letter + for M. Dagobert. I durstn’t touch it for fear of leaving the marks + of my four fingers and thumb in amaranthine! But, good evening to the + company!” and Father Loriot went out. + </p> + <p> + “M. Dagobert, here is a letter,” said Mother Bunch. She set + herself to light the fire in the stove, while Agricola drew his mother’s + arm-chair to the hearth. + </p> + <p> + “See what it is, my boy,” said Dagobert to his son; “my + head is so heavy that I cannot see clear.” Agricola took the letter, + which contained only a few lines, and read it before he looked at the + signature. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “At Sea, December 25th, 1831. + + “I avail myself of a few minutes’ communication with a ship bound + direct for Europe, to write to you, my old comrade, a few hasty + lines, which will reach you probably by way of Havre, before the + arrival of my last letters from India. You must by this time be at + Paris, with my wife and child—tell them—I am unable to say more + —the boat is departing. Only one word; I shall soon be in France. + Do not forget the 13th February; the future of my wife and child + depends upon it. + + “Adieu, my friend! Believe in my eternal gratitude. + + “SIMON.” + </pre> + <p> + “Agricola—quick! look to your father!” cried the + hunchback. + </p> + <p> + From the first words of this letter, which present circumstances made so + cruelly applicable, Dagobert had become deadly pale. Emotion, fatigue, + exhaustion, joined to this last blow, made him stagger. + </p> + <p> + His son hastened to him, and supported him in his arms. But soon the + momentary weakness passed away, and Dagobert, drawing his hand across his + brow, raised his tall figure to its full height. Then, whilst his eye + sparkled, his rough countenance took an expression of determined + resolution, and he exclaimed, in wild excitement: “No, no! I will + not be a traitor; I will not be a coward. The black robes shall not + frighten me; and, this night, Rose and Blanche Simon shall be free!” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0065" id="link2HCH0065"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XII. THE PENAL CODE. + </h2> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">S</span>tartled for a + moment by the dark and secret machinations of the black robes, as he + called them, against the persons he most loved, Dagobert might have + hesitated an instant to attempt the deliverance of Rose and Blanche; but + his indecision ceased directly on the reading of Marshal Simon’s + letter, which came so timely to remind him of his sacred duties. + </p> + <p> + To the soldier’s passing dejection had succeeded a resolution full + of calm and collected energy. + </p> + <p> + “Agricola, what o’clock is it?” asked he of his son. + </p> + <p> + “Just struck nine, father.” + </p> + <p> + “You must make me, directly, an iron hook—strong enough to + support my weight, and wide enough to hold on the coping of a wall. This + stove will be forge and anvil; you will find a hammer in the house; and, + for iron,” said the soldier, hesitating, and looking around him, + “as for iron—here is some!” + </p> + <p> + So saying, the soldier took from the hearth a strong pair of tongs, and + presented them to his son, adding: “Come, my boy! blow up the fire, + blow it to a white heat, and forge me this iron!” + </p> + <p> + On these words, Frances and Agricola looked at each other with surprise; + the smith remained mute and confounded, not knowing the resolution of his + father, and the preparations he had already commenced with the needlewoman’s + aid. + </p> + <p> + “Don’t you hear me, Agricola,” repeated Dagobert, still + holding the pair of tongs in his hand; “you must make me a hook + directly.” + </p> + <p> + “A hook, father?—for what purpose?” + </p> + <p> + “To tie to the end of a cord that I have here. There must be a loop + at one end large enough to fix it securely.” + </p> + <p> + “But this cord—this hook—for what purpose are they?” + </p> + <p> + “To scale the walls of the convent, if I cannot get in by the door.” + </p> + <p> + “What convent?” asked Frances of her son. + </p> + <p> + “How, father?” cried the latter, rising abruptly. “You + still think of that?” + </p> + <p> + “Why! what else should I think of?” + </p> + <p> + “But, father, it is impossible; you will never attempt such an + enterprise.” + </p> + <p> + “What is it, my child?” asked Frances, with anxiety. “Where + is father going?” + </p> + <p> + “He is going to break into the convent where Marshal Simon’s + daughters are confined, and carry them off.” + </p> + <p> + “Great God! my poor husband—a sacrilege!” cried Frances, + faithful to her pious traditions, and, clasping her hands together, she + endeavored to rise and approach Dagobert. + </p> + <p> + The soldier, forseeing that he would have to contend with observations and + prayers of all sorts, and resolved not to yield, determined to cut short + all useless supplications, which would only make him lose precious time. + He said, therefore, with a grave, severe, and almost solemn air, which + showed the inflexibility of his determination: “Listen to me, wife—and + you also, my son—when, at my age, a man makes up his mind to do + anything, he knows the reason why. And when a man has once made up his + mind, neither wife nor child can alter it. I have resolved to do my duty; + so spare yourselves useless words. It may be your duty to talk to me as + you have done; but it is over now, and we will say no more about it. This + evening I must be master in my own house.” + </p> + <p> + Timid and alarmed, Frances did not dare to utter a word, but she turned a + supplicating glance towards her son. + </p> + <p> + “Father,” said the latter, “one word more—only + one.” + </p> + <p> + “Let us hear,” replied Dagobert, impatiently. + </p> + <p> + “I will not combat your resolution; but I will prove to you that you + do not know to what you expose yourself.” + </p> + <p> + “I know it all,” replied the soldier, in an abrupt tone. + “The undertaking is a serious one; but it shall not be said that I + neglected any means to accomplish what I promised to do.” + </p> + <p> + “But father, you do not know to what danger you expose yourself,” + said the smith, much alarmed. + </p> + <p> + “Talk of danger! talk of the porter’s gun and the gardener’s + scythe!” said Dagobert, shrugging his shoulders contemptuously. + “Talk of them, and have done with it for, after all, suppose I were + to leave my carcass in the convent, would not you remain to your mother? + For twenty years, you were accustomed to do without me. It will be all the + less trying to you.” + </p> + <p> + “And I, alas! am the cause of these misfortunes!” cried the + poor mother. “Ah! Gabriel had good reason to blame me.” + </p> + <p> + “Mme. Frances, be comforted,” whispered the sempstress, who + had drawn near to Dagobert’s wife. “Agricola will not suffer + his father to expose himself thus.” + </p> + <p> + After a moment’s hesitation, the smith resumed, in an agitated + voice: “I know you too well, father, to think of stopping you by the + fear of death.” + </p> + <p> + “Of what danger, then, do you speak?” + </p> + <p> + “Of a danger from which even you will shrink, brave as you are,” + said the young man, in a voice of emotion, that forcibly struck his + father. + </p> + <p> + “Agricola,” said the soldier, roughly and severely, “that + remark is cowardly, you are insulting.” + </p> + <p> + “Father—” + </p> + <p> + “Cowardly!” resumed the soldier, angrily; “because it is + cowardice to wish to frighten a man from his duty—insulting! because + you think me capable of being so frightened.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, M. Dagobert!” exclaimed the sewing-girl, “you do + not understand Agricola.” + </p> + <p> + “I understand him too well,” answered the soldier harshly. + </p> + <p> + Painfully affected by the severity of his father, but firm in his + resolution, which sprang from love and respect, Agricola resumed, whilst + his heart beat violently. “Forgive me, if I disobey you, father; + but, were you to hate me for it, I must tell you to what you expose + yourself by scaling at night the walls of a convent—” + </p> + <p> + “My son! do you dare?” cried Dagobert, his countenance + inflamed with rage-“Agricola!” exclaimed Frances, in tears. + “My husband!” + </p> + <p> + “M. Dagobert, listen to Agricola!” exclaimed Mother Bunch. + “It is only in your interest that he speaks.” + </p> + <p> + “Not one word more!” replied the soldier, stamping his foot + with anger. + </p> + <p> + “I tell you, father,” exclaimed the smith, growing fearfully + pale as he spoke, “that you risk being sent to the galleys!” + </p> + <p> + “Unhappy boy!” cried Dagobert, seizing his son by the arm; + “could you not keep that from me—rather than expose me to + become a traitor and a coward?” And the soldier shuddered, as he + repeated: “The galleys!”—and, bending down his head, + remained mute, pensive, withered, as it were, by those blasting words. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, to enter an inhabited place by night, in such a manner, is + what the law calls burglary, and punishes with the galleys,” cried + Agricola, at once grieved and rejoicing at his father’s depression + of mind—“yes, father, the galleys, if you are taken in the + act; and there are ten chances to one that you would be so. Mother Bunch + has told you, the convent is guarded. This morning, had you attempted to + carry off the two young ladies in broad daylight, you would have been + arrested; but, at least, the attempt would have been an open one, with a + character of honest audacity about it, that hereafter might have procured + your acquittal. But to enter by night, and by scaling the walls—I + tell you, the galleys would be the consequence. Now, father, decide. + Whatever you do, I will do also—for you shall not go alone. Say but + the word, and I will forge the hook for you—I have here hammer and + pincers—and in an hour we will set out.” + </p> + <p> + A profound silence followed these words—a silence that was only + interrupted by the stifled sobs of Frances, who muttered to herself in + despair: “Alas! this is the consequence of listening to Abbe Dubois!” + </p> + <p> + It was in vain that Mother Bunch tried to console Frances. She was herself + alarmed, for the soldier was capable of braving even infamy, and Agricola + had determined to share the perils of his father. + </p> + <p> + In spite of his energetic and resolute character, Dagobert remained for + some time in a kind of stupor. According to his military habits, he had + looked at this nocturnal enterprise only as a ruse de guerre, authorized + by his good cause, and by the inexorable fatality of his position; but the + words of his son brought him back to the fearful reality, and left him the + choice of a terrible alternative—either to betray the confidence of + Marshal Simon, and set at naught the last wishes of the mother of the + orphan—or else to expose himself, and above all his son, to lasting + disgrace—without even the certainty of delivering the orphans after + all. + </p> + <p> + Drying her eyes, bathed in tears, Frances exclaimed, as if by a sudden + inspiration: “Dear me! I have just thought of it. There is perhaps a + way of getting these dear children from the convent without violence.” + </p> + <p> + “How so, mother?” said Agricola, hastily. + </p> + <p> + “It is Abbe Dubois, who had them conveyed thither; but Gabriel + supposes, that he probably acted by the advice of M. Rodin. + </p> + <p> + “And if that were so, mother, it would be in vain to apply to M. + Rodin. We should get nothing from him.” + </p> + <p> + “Not from him—but perhaps from that powerful abbe, who is + Gabriel’s superior, and has always patronized him since his first + entrance at the seminary.” + </p> + <p> + “What abbe, mother?” + </p> + <p> + “Abbe d’Aigrigny.” + </p> + <p> + “True mother; before being a priest, he was a soldier he may be more + accessible than others—and yet—” + </p> + <p> + “D’Aigrigny!” cried Dagobert, with an expression of hate + and horror. “There is then mixed up with these treasons, a man who + was a soldier before being a priest, and whose name is D’Aigrigny?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, father; the Marquis d’Aigrigny—before the + Restoration, in the service of Russia—but, in 1815, the Bourbons + gave him a regiment.” + </p> + <p> + “It is he!” said Dagobert, in a hollow voice. “Always + the same! like an evil spirit—to the mother, father, children.” + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean, father?” + </p> + <p> + “The Marquis d’Aigrigny!” replied Dagobert. “Do + you know what is this man? Before he was a priest, he was the murderer of + Rose and Blanche’s mother, because she despised his love. Before he + was a priest, he fought against his country, and twice met General Simon + face to face in war. Yes; while the general was prisoner at Leipsic, + covered with wounds at Waterloo, the turncoat marquis triumphed with the + Russians and English!—Under the Bourbons, this same renegade, loaded + with honors, found himself once more face to face with the persecuted + soldier of the empire. Between them, this time, there was a mortal duel—the + marquis was wounded—General Simon was proscribed, condemned, driven + into exile. The renegade, you say, has become a priest. Well! I am now + certain, that it is he who has carried off Rose and Blanche, in order to + wreak on them his hatred of their father and mother. It is the infamous D’Aigrigny, + who holds them in his power. It is no longer the fortune of these children + that I have to defend; it is their life—do you hear what I say?—their + very life?” + </p> + <p> + “What, father! do you think this man capable—” + </p> + <p> + “A traitor to his country, who finishes by becoming a mock priest, + is capable of anything. I tell you, that, perhaps at this moment he may be + killing those children by a slow-fire!” exclaimed the soldier, in a + voice of agony. “To separate them from one another was to begin to + kill them. Yes!” added Dagobert, with an exasperation impossible to + describe; “the daughters of Marshal Simon are in the power of the + Marquis d’Aigrigny and his band, and I hesitate to attempt their + rescue, for fear of the galleys! The galleys!” added he, with a + convulsive burst of laughter; “what do I care for the galleys? Can + they send a corpse there? If this last attempt fail, shall I not have the + right to blow my brains out?—Put the iron in the fire, my boy—quick! + time presses—and strike while the iron’s hot!” + </p> + <p> + “But your son goes with you!” exclaimed Frances, with a cry of + maternal despair. Then rising, she threw herself at the feet of Dagobert, + and said: “If you are arrested, he will be arrested also.” + </p> + <p> + “To escape the galleys, he will do as I do. I have two pistols.” + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:65%;"> + <img src="images/20133m.jpg" alt="20133m” width=" /><br /> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/20133.jpg"><i>Original</i></a> + </h5> + <p> + “And without you—without him,” cried the unhappy mother, + extending her hands in supplication, “what will become of me?” + </p> + <p> + “You are right—I was too selfish,” said Dagobert. + “I will go alone.” + </p> + <p> + “You shall not go alone, father,” replied Agricola. + </p> + <p> + “But your mother?” + </p> + <p> + “Mother Bunch sees what is passing; she will go to Mr. Hardy, my + master, and tell him all. He is the most generous of men, and my mother + will have food and shelter for the rest of her days.” + </p> + <p> + “And I am the cause of all!” cried Frances, wringing her hands + in despair. “Punish me, oh, heaven! for it is my fault. I gave up + those children. I shall be punished by the death of my child!” + </p> + <p> + “Agricola, you shall not go with me—I forbid it!” said + Dagobert, clasping his son closely to his breast. + </p> + <p> + “What! when I have pointed out the danger, am I to be the first to + shrink from it? you cannot think thus lowly of me, father! Have I not also + some one to deliver? The good, the generous Mdlle. de Cardoville, who + tried to save me from a prison, is a captive in her turn. I will follow + you, father. It is my right, my duty, my determination.” + </p> + <p> + So saying, Agricola put into the heated stove the tongs that were intended + to form the hook. “Alas! may heaven have pity upon us!” cried + his poor mother, sobbing as she still knelt, whilst the soldier seemed a + prey to the most violent internal struggle. + </p> + <p> + “Do not cry so, dear mother; you will break my heart,” said + Agricola, as he raised her with the sempstress’s help. “Be + comforted! I have exaggerated the danger of my father. By acting + prudently, we two may succeed in our enterprise; without much risk—eh, + father?” added he, with a significant glance at Dagobert. “Once + more, be comforted, dear mother. I will answer for everything. We will + deliver Marshal Simon’s daughters, and Mdlle. de Cardoville too. + Sister, give me the hammer and pincers, there in the press.” + </p> + <p> + The sempstress, drying her tears, did as desired, while Agricola, by the + help of bellows, revived the fire in which the tongs were heating. + </p> + <p> + “Here are your tools, Agricola,” said the hunchback, in a + deeply-agitated voice, as she presented them with trembling hands to the + smith, who, with the aid of the pincers, soon drew from the fire the + white-hot tongs, and, with vigorous blows of the hammer, formed them into + a hook, taking the stove for his anvil. + </p> + <p> + Dagobert had remained silent and pensive. Suddenly he said to Frances, + taking her by the hand: “You know what metal your son is. To prevent + his following me would now be impossible. But do not be afraid, dear wife; + we shall succeed—at least, I hope so. And if we should not succeed—if + Agricola and me should be arrested—well! we are not cowards; we + shall not commit suicide; but father and son will go arm in arm to prison, + with heads high and proud, look like two brave men who have done their + duty. The day of trial must come, and we will explain all, honestly, + openly—we will say, that, driven to the last extremity, finding no + support, no protection in the law, we were forced to have recourse to + violence. So hammer away, my boy!” added Dagobert, addressing his + son, pounding the hot iron; “forge, forge, without fear. Honest + judges will absolve honest men.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, father, you are right, be at ease dear mother! The judges will + see the difference between rascals who scale walls in order to rob, and an + old soldier and his son who, at peril of their liberty, their life, their + honor, have sought only to deliver unhappy victims.” + </p> + <p> + “And if this language should not be heard,” resumed Dagobert, + “so much the worse for them! It will not be your son, or husband, + who will be dishonored in the eyes of honest people. If they send us to + the galleys, and we have courage to survive—the young and the old + convict will wear their chains proudly—and the renegade marquis, the + traitor priest, will bear more shame than we. So, forge without fear, my + boy! There are things which the galleys themselves cannot disgrace—our + good conscience and our honor! But now,” he added, “two words + with my good Mother Bunch. It grows late, and time presses. On entering + the garden, did you remark if the windows of the convent were far from the + ground?” + </p> + <p> + “No, not very far, M. Dagobert—particularly on that side which + is opposite to the madhouse, where Mdlle. de Cardoville is confined.” + </p> + <p> + “How did you manage to speak to that young lady?” + </p> + <p> + “She was on the other side of an open paling, which separates the + two gardens.” + </p> + <p> + “Excellent!” said Agricola, as he continued to hammer the + iron: “we can easily pass from one garden to the other. The madhouse + may perhaps be the readier way out. Unfortunately, you do not know, Mdlle. + de Cardoville’s chamber.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I do,” returned the work-girl, recollecting herself. + “She is lodged in one of the wings, and there is a shade over her + window, painted like canvas, with blue and white stripes.” + </p> + <p> + “Good! I shall not forget that.” + </p> + <p> + “And can you form no guess as to where are the rooms of my poor + children?” said Dagobert. + </p> + <p> + After a moment’s reflection, Mother Bunch answered, “They are + opposite to the chamber occupied by Mdlle. de Cardoville, for she makes + signs to them from her window: and I now remember she told me, that their + two rooms are on different stories, one on the ground-floor, and the other + up one pair of stairs.” + </p> + <p> + “Are these windows grated?” asked the smith. + </p> + <p> + “I do not know.” + </p> + <p> + “Never mind, my good girl: with these indications we shall do very + well,” said Dagobert. “For the rest, I have my plans.” + </p> + <p> + “Some water, my little sister,” said Agricola, “that I + may cool my iron.” Then addressing his father: “Will this hook + do?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, my boy; as soon as it is cold we will fasten the cord.” + </p> + <p> + For some time, Frances Baudoin had remained upon her knees, praying with + fervor. She implored Heaven to have pity on Agricola and Dagobert, who, in + their ignorance, were about to commit a great crime; and she entreated + that the celestial vengeance might fall upon her only, as she alone had + been the cause of the fatal resolution of her son and husband. + </p> + <p> + Dagobert and Agricola finished their preparations in silence. They were + both very pale, and solemnly grave. They felt all the danger of so + desperate an enterprise. + </p> + <p> + The clock at Saint-Mery’s struck ten. The sound of the bell was + faint, and almost drowned by the lashing of the wind and rain, which had + not ceased for a moment. + </p> + <p> + “Ten o’clock!” said Dagobert, with a start. “There + is not a minute to lose. Take the sack, Agricola.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, father.” + </p> + <p> + As he went to fetch the sack, Agricola approached Mother Bunch, who was + hardly able to sustain herself, and said to her in a rapid whisper: + “If we are not here to-morrow, take care of my mother. Go to M. + Hardy, who will perhaps have returned from his journey. Courage, my + sister! embrace me. I leave poor mother to you.” The smith, deeply + affected, pressed the almost fainting girl in his arms. + </p> + <p> + “Come, old Spoil-sport,” said Dagobert: “you shall be + our scout.” Approaching his wife, who, just risen from the ground, + was clasping her son’s head to her bosom, and covering it with tears + and kisses, he said to her, with a semblance of calmness and serenity: + “Come, my dear wife, be reasonable! Make us a good fire. In two or + three hours we will bring home the two poor children, and a fine young + lady. Kiss me! that will bring me luck.” + </p> + <p> + Frances threw herself on her husband’s neck, without uttering a + word. This mute despair, mingled with convulsive sobs, was heart-rending. + Dagobert was obliged to tear himself from his wife’s arms, and + striving to conceal his emotion, he said to his son, in an agitated voice: + “Let us go—she unmans me. Take care of her, my good Mother + Bunch. Agricola—come!” + </p> + <p> + The soldier slipped the pistols into the pocket of his great coat, and + rushed towards the door, followed by Spoil-sport. + </p> + <p> + “My son, let me embrace you once more—alas! it is perhaps for + the last time!” cried the unfortunate mother, incapable of rising, + but stretching out her arms to Agricola. “Forgive me! it is all my + fault.” + </p> + <p> + The smith turned back, mingled his tears with those of his mother—for + he also wept—and murmured, in a stifled voice: “Adieu, dear + mother! Be comforted. We shall soon meet again.” + </p> + <p> + Then, escaping from the embrace, he joined his father upon the stairs. + </p> + <p> + Frances Baudoin heaved a long sigh, and fell almost lifeless into the + needlewoman’s arms. + </p> + <p> + Dagobert and Agricola left the Rue Brise-Miche in the height of the storm, + and hastened with great strides towards the Boulevard de l’Hopital, + followed by the dog. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0066" id="link2HCH0066"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIII. BURGLARY. + </h2> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">H</span>alf-past eleven + had just struck, when Dagobert and his son arrived on the Boulevard de l’Hopital. + </p> + <p> + The wind blew violently, and the rain fell down in torrents, but + notwithstanding the thickness of the watery clouds, it was tolerably + light, thanks to the late rising of the moon. The tall, dark trees, and + the white walls of the convent garden, were distinguishable in the midst + of the pale glimmer. Afar off, a street lamp, acted on by the wind, with + its red lights hardly visible through the mist and rain, swung backwards + and forwards over the dirty causeway of the solitary boulevard. + </p> + <p> + At rare intervals, they heard, at a very great distance, the rattle and + rumble of a coach, returning home late; then all was again silent. + </p> + <p> + Since their departure from the Rue Brise-Miche, Dagobert and his son had + hardly exchanged a word. The design of these two brave men was noble and + generous, and yet, resolute but pensive, they glided through the darkness + like bandits, at the hour of nocturnal crimes. + </p> + <p> + Agricola carried on his shoulders the sack containing the cord, the hook, + and the iron bar; Dagobert leaned upon the arm of his son, and Spoil sport + followed his master. + </p> + <p> + “The bench, where we sat down, must be close by,” said + Dagobert, stopping. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Agricola, looking around; “here it is, + father.” + </p> + <p> + “It is oily half-past eleven—we must wait for midnight,” + resumed Dagobert. “Let us be seated for an instant, to rest + ourselves, and decide upon our plan.” + </p> + <p> + After a moment’s silence, the soldier took his son’s hands + between his own, and thus continued: “Agricola, my child—it is + yet time. Let me go alone, I entreat you. I shall know very well how to + get through the business; but the nearer the moment comes, the more I fear + to drag you into this dangerous enterprise.” + </p> + <p> + “And the nearer the moment comes, father, the more I feel I may be + of some use; but, be it good or bad, I will share the fortune of your + adventure. Our object is praiseworthy; it is a debt of honor that you have + to pay, and I will take one half of it. Do not fancy that I will now draw + back. And so, dear father, let us think of our plan of action.” + </p> + <p> + “Then you will come?” said Dagobert, stifling a sigh. + </p> + <p> + “We must do everything,” proceeded Agricola, “to secure + success. You have already noticed the little garden-door, near the angle + of the wall—that is excellent.” + </p> + <p> + “We shall get by that way into the garden, and look immediately for + the open paling.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; for on one side of this paling is the wing inhabited by Mdlle. + de Cardoville, and on the other that part of the convent in which the + general’s daughters are confined.” + </p> + <p> + At this moment, Spoil-sport, who was crouching at Dagobert’s feet, + rose suddenly, and pricked up his ears, as if to listen. + </p> + <p> + “One would think that Spoil-sport heard something,” said + Agricola. They listened—but heard only the wind, sounding through + the tall trees of the boulevard. + </p> + <p> + “Now I think of it, father—when the garden-door is once open, + shall we take Spoil-sport with us?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; for if there is a watch-dog, he will settle him. And then he + will give us notice of the approach of those who go the rounds. Besides, + he is so intelligent, so attached to Rose and Blanche, that (who knows?) + he may help to discover the place where they are. Twenty times I have seen + him find them in the woods, by the most extraordinary instinct.” + </p> + <p> + A slow and solemn knell here rose above the noise of the wind: it was the + first stroke of twelve. + </p> + <p> + That note seemed to echo mournfully through the souls of Agricola and his + father. Mute with emotion, they shuddered, and by a spontaneous movement, + each grasped the hand of the other. In spite of themselves, their hearts + kept time to every stroke of the clock, as each successive vibration was + prolonged through the gloomy silence of the night. + </p> + <p> + At the last strobe, Dagobert said to his son, in a firm voice: “It + is midnight. Shake hands, and let us forward!” + </p> + <p> + The moment was decisive and solemn. “Now, father,” said + Agricola, “we will act with as much craft and daring as thieves + going to pillage a strong box.” + </p> + <p> + So saying, the smith took from the sack the cord and hook; Dagobert armed + himself with the iron bar, and both advanced cautiously, following the + wall in the direction of the little door, situated not far from the angle + formed by the street and the boulevard. They stopped from time to time, to + listen attentively, trying to distinguish those noises which were not + caused either by the high wind or the rain. + </p> + <p> + It continued light enough for them to be able to see surrounding objects, + and the smith and the soldier soon gained the little door, which appeared + much decayed, and not very strong. + </p> + <p> + “Good!” said Agricola to his father. “It will yield at + one blow.” + </p> + <p> + The smith was about to apply his shoulder vigorously to the door, when + Spoil-sport growled hoarsely, and made a “point.” Dagobert + silenced the dog with a word, and grasping his son’s arm, said to + him in a whisper: “Do not stir. The dog has scented some one in the + garden.” + </p> + <p> + Agricola and his father remained for some minutes motionless, holding + their breath and listening. The dog, in obedience to his master, no longer + growled, but his uneasiness and agitation were displayed more and more. + Yet they heard nothing. + </p> + <p> + “The dog must have been deceived, father,” whispered Agricola. + </p> + <p> + “I am sure of the contrary. Do not move.” + </p> + <p> + After some seconds of expectation, Spoil-sport crouched down abruptly, and + pushed his nose as far as possible under the door, snuffling up the air. + </p> + <p> + “They are coming,” said Dagobert hastily, to his son. + </p> + <p> + “Let us draw off a little distance,” replied Agricola. + </p> + <p> + “No,” said his father; “we must listen. It will be time + to retire, if they open the door. Here, Spoil-sport! down!” + </p> + <p> + The dog obeyed, and withdrawing from the door, crouched down at the feet + of his master. Some seconds after, they heard a sort of splashing on the + damp ground, caused by heavy footsteps in puddles of water, and then the + sound of words, which carried away by the wind, did not reach distinctly + the ears of the soldier and the smith. + </p> + <p> + “They are the people of whom Mother Bunch told us, going their + round,” said Agricola to his father. + </p> + <p> + “So much the better. There will be an interval before they come + round again, and we shall have some two hours before us, without + interruption. Our affair is all right now.” + </p> + <p> + By degrees, the sound of the footsteps became less and less distinct, and + at last died away altogether. + </p> + <p> + “Now, quick! we must not lose any time,” said Dagobert to his + son, after waiting about ten minutes; “they are far enough. Let us + try to open the door.” + </p> + <p> + Agricola leaned his powerful shoulder against it, and pushed vigorously; + but the door did not give way, notwithstanding its age. + </p> + <p> + “Confound it!” said Agricola; “there is a bar on the + inside. I am sure of it, or these old planks would not have resisted my + weight.” + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:65%;"> + <img src="images/20141m.jpg" alt="20141m” width=" /><br /> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/20141.jpg"><i>Original</i></a> + </h5> + <p> + “What is to be done?” + </p> + <p> + “I will scale the wall by means of the cord and hook, and open the + door from the other side.” + </p> + <p> + So saying, Agricola took the cord, and after several attempts, succeeded + in fixing the hook on the coping of the wall. + </p> + <p> + “Now, father, give me a leg up; I will help myself up with the cord; + once astride on the wall, I can easily turn the hook and get down into the + garden.” + </p> + <p> + The soldier leaned against the wall, and joined his two hands, in the + hollow of which his son placed one of his feet, then mounting upon the + robust shoulders of his father, he was able, by help of the cord, and some + irregularities in the wall, to reach the top. Unfortunately, the smith had + not perceived that the coping of the wall was strewed with broken bottles, + so that he wounded his knees and hands; but, for fear of alarming + Dagobert, he repressed every exclamation of pain, and replacing the hook, + he glided down the cord to the ground. The door was close by, and he + hastened to it; a strong wooden bar had indeed secured it on the inside. + This was removed, and the lock was in so bad a state, that it offered no + resistance to a violent effort from Agricola. + </p> + <p> + The door was opened, and Dagobert entered the garden with Spoil-sport. + </p> + <p> + “Now,” said the soldier to his son, “thanks to you, the + worst is over. Here is a means of escape for the poor children, and Mdlle. + de Cardoville. The thing is now to find them, without accident or delay. + Spoil-sport will go before as a scout. Come, my good dog!” added + Dagobert, “above all—fair and softly!” + </p> + <p> + Immediately, the intelligent animal advanced a few steps, sniffing and + listening with the care and caution of a hound searching for the game. + </p> + <p> + By the half-light of the clouded moon, Dagobert and his son perceived + round them a V-shaped grove of tall trees, at which several paths met. + Uncertain which to choose, Agricola said to his father: “Let us take + the path that runs alongside the wall. It will surely lead to some + building.” + </p> + <p> + “Right! Let us walk on the strips of grass, instead of through the + mud. It will make less noise.” + </p> + <p> + The father and son, preceded by the Siberian dog, kept for some time in a + winding path, at no great distance from the wall. They stopped now and + then to listen, or to satisfy themselves, before continuing their advance, + with regard to the changing aspects of the trees and bushes, which, shaken + by the wind, and faintly illumined by the pale light of the moon, often + took strange and doubtful forms. + </p> + <p> + Half-past twelve struck as Agricola and his father reached a large iron + gate which shut in that part of the garden reserved for the Superior—the + same into which Mother Bunch had intruded herself, after seeing Rose Simon + converse with Adrienne de Cardoville. + </p> + <p> + Through the bars of this gate, Agricola and his father perceived at a + little distance an open paling, which joined a half-finished chapel, and + beyond it a little square building. + </p> + <p> + “That is no doubt the building occupied by Mdlle. de Cardoville,” + said Agricola. + </p> + <p> + “And the building which contains the chambers of Rose and Blanche, + but which we cannot see from here, is no doubt opposite it,” said + Dagobert. “Poor children! they are there, weeping tears of despair,” + added he, with profound emotion. + </p> + <p> + “Provided the gate be but open,” said Agricola. + </p> + <p> + “It will probably be so—being within the walls.” + </p> + <p> + “Let us go on gently.” + </p> + <p> + The gate was only fastened by the catch of the lock. Dagobert was about to + open it, when Agricola said to him: “Take care! do not make it creak + on its hinges.” + </p> + <p> + “Shall I push it slowly or suddenly?” + </p> + <p> + “Let me manage it,” said Agricola; and he opened the gate so + quickly, that it creaked very little; still the noise might have been + plainly heard, in the silence of the night, during one of the lulls + between the squalls of wind. + </p> + <p> + Agricola and his father remained motionless for a moment, listening + uneasily, before they ventured to pass through the gate. Nothing stirred, + however; all remained calm and still. With fresh courage, they entered the + reserved garden. + </p> + <p> + Hardly had the dog arrived on this spot, when he exhibited tokens of + extraordinary delight. Picking up his ears, wagging his tail, bounding + rather than running, he had soon reached the paling where, in the morning, + Rose Simon had for a moment conversed with Mdlle. de Cardoville. He + stopped an instant at this place, as if at fault, and turned round and + round like a dog seeking the scent. + </p> + <p> + Dagobert and his son, leaving Spoil-sport to his instinct, followed his + least movements with intense interest, hoping everything from his + intelligence and his attachment to the orphans. + </p> + <p> + “It was no doubt near this paling that Rose stood when Mother Bunch + saw her,” said Dagobert. “Spoil-sport is on her track. Let him + alone.” + </p> + <p> + After a few seconds, the dog turned his head towards Dagobert, and started + at full trot in the direction of a door on the ground-floor of a building, + opposite to that occupied by Adrienne. Arrived at this door, the dog lay + down, seemingly waiting for Dagobert. + </p> + <p> + “No doubt of it! the children are there!” said Dagobert, + hastening to rejoin Spoil-sport; “it was by this door that they took + Rose into the house.” + </p> + <p> + “We must see if the windows are grated,” said Agricola, + following his father. + </p> + <p> + “Well, old fellow!” whispered the soldier, as he came up to + the dog and pointed to the building, “are Rose and Blanche there?” + </p> + <p> + The dog lifted his head, and answered by a joyful bark. Dagobert had just + time to seize the mouth of the animal with his hands. + </p> + <p> + “He will ruin all!” exclaimed the smith. “They have, + perhaps, heard him.” + </p> + <p> + “No,” said Dagobert. “But there is no longer any doubt—the + children are here.” + </p> + <p> + At this instant, the iron gate, by which the soldier and his son had + entered the reserved garden, and which they had left open, fell to with a + loud noise. + </p> + <p> + “They’ve shut us in,” said Agricola, hastily; “and + there is no other issue.” + </p> + <p> + For a moment, the father and son looked in dismay at each other; but + Agricola instantly resumed: “The gate has perhaps shut of itself. I + will make haste to assure myself of this, and to open it again if + possible.” + </p> + <p> + “Go quickly; I will examine the windows.” + </p> + <p> + Agricola flew towards the gate, whilst Dagobert, gliding along the wall, + soon reached the windows on the ground floor. They were four in number, + and two of them were not grated. He looked up at the first story; it was + not very far from the ground, and none of the windows had bars. It would + then be easy for that one of the two sisters, who inhabited this story, + once informed of their presence, to let herself down by means of a sheet, + as the orphans had already done to escape from the inn of the White + Falcon. But the difficult thing was to know which room she occupied. + Dagobert thought they might learn this from the sister on the ground + floor; but then there was another difficulty—at which of the four + windows should they knock? + </p> + <p> + Agricola returned precipitately. “It was the wind, no doubt, which + shut the gate,” said he. “I have opened it again, and made it + fast with a stone. But we have no time to lose.” + </p> + <p> + “And how shall we know the windows of the poor children?” said + Dagobert, anxiously. + </p> + <p> + “That is true,” said Agricola, with uneasiness. “What is + to be done?” + </p> + <p> + “To call them at hap-hazard,” continued Dagobert, “would + be to give the alarm.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, heavens!” cried Agricola, with increasing anguish. + “To have arrived here, under their windows, and yet not to know!” + </p> + <p> + “Time presses,” said Dagobert, hastily, interrupting his son; + “we must run all risks.” + </p> + <p> + “But how, father?” + </p> + <p> + “I will call out loud, ‘Rose and Blanche’—in their + state of despair, I am sure they do not sleep. They will be stirring at my + first summons. By means of a sheet, fastened to the window, she who is on + the first story will in five minutes be in our arms. As for the one on the + ground floor—if her window is not grated, we can have her in a + second. If it is, we shall soon loosen one of the bars.” + </p> + <p> + “But, father—this calling out aloud?” + </p> + <p> + “Will not perhaps be heard.” + </p> + <p> + “But if it is heard—all will be lost.” + </p> + <p> + “Who knows? Before they have time to call the watch, and open + several doors, the children may be delivered. Once at the entrance of the + boulevard, and we shall be safe.” + </p> + <p> + “It is a dangerous course; but I see no other.” + </p> + <p> + “If there are only two men, I and Spoil-sport will keep them in + check, while you will have time to carry off the children.” + </p> + <p> + “Father, there is a better way—a surer one,” cried + Agricola, suddenly. “From what Mother Bunch told us, Mdlle. de + Cardoville has corresponded by signs with Rose and Blanche.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “Hence she knows where they are lodged, as the poor children + answered her from their windows.” + </p> + <p> + “You are right. There is only that course to take. But how find her + room?” + </p> + <p> + “Mother Bunch told me there was a shade over the window.” + </p> + <p> + “Quick! we have only to break through a wooden fence. Have you the + iron bar?” + </p> + <p> + “Here it is.” + </p> + <p> + “Then, quick!” + </p> + <p> + In a few steps, Dagobert and his son had reached the paling. Three planks, + torn away by Agricola, opened an easy passage. + </p> + <p> + “Remain here, father, and keep watch,” said he to Dagobert, as + he entered Dr. Baleinier’s garden. + </p> + <p> + The indicated window was easily recognized. It was high and broad; a sort + of shade surmounted it, for this window had once been a door, since walled + in to the third of its height. It was protected by bars of iron, pretty + far apart. Since some minutes, the rain had ceased. The moon, breaking + through the clouds, shone full upon the building. Agricola, approaching + the window, saw that the room was perfectly dark; but light came from a + room beyond, through a door left half open. The smith, hoping that Mdlle. + de Cardoville might be still awake, tapped lightly at the window. Soon + after, the door in the background opened entirely, and Mdlle. de + Cardoville, who had not yet gone to bed, came from the other chamber, + dressed as she had been at her interview with Mother Bunch. Her charming + features were visible by the light of the taper she held in her hand. + Their present expression was that of surprise and anxiety. The young girl + set down the candlestick on the table, and appeared to listen attentively + as she approached the window. Suddenly she started and stopped abruptly. + She had just discerned the face of a man, looking at her through the + window. Agricola, fearing that Mdlle. de Cardoville would retire in terror + to the next room, again tapped on the glass, and running the risk of being + heard by others, said in a pretty loud voice: “It is Agricola + Baudoin.” + </p> + <p> + These words reached the ears of Adrienne. Instantly remembering her + interview with Mother Bunch, she thought that Agricola and Dagobert must + have entered the convent for the purpose of carrying off Rose and Blanche. + She ran to the window, recognized Agricola in the clear moonlight, and + cautiously opened the casement. + </p> + <p> + “Madame,” said the smith, hastily; “there is not an + instant to lose. The Count de Montbron is not in Paris. My father and + myself have come to deliver you.” + </p> + <p> + “Thanks, thanks, M. Agricola!” said Mdlle. de Cardoville, in a + tone expressive of the most touching gratitude; “but think first of + the daughters of General Simon.” + </p> + <p> + “We do think of them, madame, I have come to ask you which are their + windows.” + </p> + <p> + “One is on the ground floor, the last on the garden-side; the other + is exactly over it, on the first story.” + </p> + <p> + “Then they are saved!” cried the smith. + </p> + <p> + “But let me see!” resumed Adrienne, hastily; “the first + story is pretty high. You will find, near the chapel they are building, + some long poles belonging to the scaffolding. They may be of use to you.” + </p> + <p> + “They will be as good as a ladder, to reach the upstairs window. But + now to think of you madame.” + </p> + <p> + “Think only of the dear orphans. Time presses. Provided they are + delivered to-night, it makes little difference to me to remain a day or + two longer in this house.” + </p> + <p> + “No, mademoiselle,” cried the smith, “it is of the first + importance that you should leave this place to-night. Interests are + concerned, of which you know nothing. I am now sure of it.” + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean?” + </p> + <p> + “I have not time to explain myself further; but I conjure you + madame, to come. I can wrench out two of these bars; I will fetch a piece + of iron.” + </p> + <p> + “It is not necessary. They are satisfied with locking the outer door + of this building, which I inhabit alone. You can easily break open the + lock.” + </p> + <p> + “And, in ten minutes, we shall be on the boulevard,” said the + smith. “Make yourself ready, madame; take a shawl, a bonnet, for the + night is cold. I will return instantly.” + </p> + <p> + “M. Agricola,” said Adrienne, with tears in her eyes, “I + know what you risk for my sake. I shall prove to you, I hope, that I have + as good a memory as you have. You and your adopted sister are noble and + valiant creatures, and I am proud to be indebted to you. But do not return + for me till the daughters of Marshal Simon are in safety.” + </p> + <p> + “Thanks to your directions, the thing will be done directly, madame. + I fly to rejoin my father, and we will come together to fetch you.” + </p> + <p> + Following the excellent advice of Mdlle. de Cardoville, Agricola took one + of the long, strong poles that rested against the wall of the chapel, and, + bearing it on his robust shoulders, hastened to rejoin his father. Hardly + had Agricola passed the fence, to direct his steps towards the chapel, + obscured in shadow, than Mdlle. de Cardoville thought she perceived a + human form issue from one of the clumps of trees in the convent-garden, + cross the path hastily, and disappear behind a high hedge of box. Alarmed + at the sight, Adrienne in vain called to Agricola in a low voice, to bid + him beware. He could not hear her; he had already rejoined his father, + who, devoured by impatience, went from window to window with + ever-increasing anguish. + </p> + <p> + “We are saved,” whispered Agricola. “Those are the + windows of the poor children—one on the ground floor, the other on + the first story.” + </p> + <p> + “At last!” said Dagobert, with a burst of joy impossible to + describe. He ran to examine the windows. “They are not grated!” + he exclaimed. + </p> + <p> + “Let us make sure, that one of them is there,” said Agricola; + “then, by placing this pole against the wall, I will climb up to the + first story, which is not so very high.” + </p> + <p> + “Right, my boy!—once there, tap at the window, and call Rose + or Blanche. When she answers, come down. We will rest the pole against the + window, and the poor child will slide along it. They are bold and active. + Quick, quick! to work!” + </p> + <p> + “And then we will deliver Mdlle. de Cardoville.” + </p> + <p> + Whilst Agricola placed his pole against the wall, and prepares to mount, + Dagobert tapped at the panes of the last window on the ground floor, and + said aloud: “It is I—Dagobert.” + </p> + <p> + Rose Simon indeed occupied the chamber. The unhappy child, in despair at + being separated from her sister, was a prey to a burning fever, and, + unable to sleep, watered her pillow with her tears. At the sound of the + tapping on the glass, she started up affrighted, then, hearing the voice + of the soldier—that voice so familiar and so dear—she sat up + in bed, pressed her hands across her forehead, to assure herself that she + was not the plaything of a dream, and, wrapped in her long night-dress, + ran to the window with a cry of joy. But suddenly—and before she + could open the casement—two reports of fire-arms were heard, + accompanied by loud cries of “Help! thieves!” + </p> + <p> + The orphan stood petrified with terror, her eyes mechanically fixed upon + the window, through which she saw confusedly, by the light of the moon, + several men engaged in a mortal struggle, whilst the furious barking of + Spoil-sport was heard above all the incessant cries of “Help! Help! + Thieves! Murder!” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0077" id="link2H_4_0077"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + BOOK V. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + XIV. The Eve of a Great Day XV. The Thug XVI. The Two + Brothers of the Good Work XVII. The House in the Rue Saint- + Francois XVIII. Debit and Credit XIX. The Heir XX. The + Rupture XXI. The Change XXII. The Red Room XXIII. The + Testament XXIV. The Last Stroke of Noon XXV. The Deed of + Gift +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0067" id="link2HCH0067"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIV. THE EVE OF A GREAT DAY. + </h2> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">A</span>bout two hours + before the event last related took place at St. Mary’s Convent, + Rodin and Abbe d’Aigrigny met in the room where we have already seen + them, in the Rue du Milieu-des-Ursins. Since the Revolution of July, + Father d’Aigrigny had thought proper to remove for the moment to + this temporary habitation all the secret archives and correspondence of + his Order—a prudent measure, since he had every reason to fear that + the reverend fathers would be expelled by the state from that magnificent + establishment, with which the restoration had so liberally endowed their + society. (11) + </p> + <p> + Rodin, dressed in his usual sordid style, mean and dirty as ever, was + writing modestly at his desk, faithful to his humble part of secretary, + which concealed, as we have already seen a far more important office—that + of Socius—a function which, according to the constitutions of the + Order, consists in never quitting his superior, watching his least + actions, spying into his very thoughts, and reporting all to Rome. + </p> + <p> + In spite of his usual impassibility, Rodin appeared visibly uneasy and + absent in mind; he answered even more briefly than usual to the commands + and questions of Father d’Aigrigny, who had but just entered the + room. + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:65%;"> + <img src="images/20151m.jpg" alt="20151m” width=" /><br /> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/20151.jpg"><i>Original</i></a> + </h5> + <p> + “Has anything new occurred during my absence?” asked he. + “Are the reports still favorable?” + </p> + <p> + “Very favorable.” + </p> + <p> + “Read them to me.” + </p> + <p> + “Before giving this account to your reverence,” said Rodin, + “I must inform you that Morok has been two days in Paris.” + </p> + <p> + “Morok?” said Abbe d’Aigrigny, with surprise. “I + thought, on leaving Germany and Switzerland, he had received from Friburg + the order to proceed southward. At Nismes, or Avignon, he would at this + moment be useful as an agent; for the Protestants begin to move, and we + fear a reaction against the Catholics.” + </p> + <p> + “I do not know,” said Rodin, “if Morok may not have had + private reasons for changing his route. His ostensible reasons are, that + he comes here to give performances.” + </p> + <p> + “How so?” + </p> + <p> + “A dramatic agent, passing through Lyons, engaged him and his + menagerie for the Port Saint-Martin Theatre at a very high price. He says + that he did not like to refuse such an offer.” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said Father d’Aigrigny, shrugging his shoulders, + “but by distributing his little books, and selling prints and + chaplets, as well as by the influence he would certainly exercise over the + pious and ignorant people of the South or of Brittany, he might render + services, such as he can never perform in Paris.” + </p> + <p> + “He is now below, with a kind of giant, who travels about with him. + In his capacity of your reverence’s old servant, Morok hoped to have + the honor of kissing your hand this evening.” + </p> + <p> + “Impossible—impossible—you know how much I am occupied. + Have you sent to the Rue Saint-Francois?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I have. The old Jew guardian has had notice from the notary. + To morrow, at six in the morning, the masons will unwall the door, and, + for the first time since one hundred and fifty years, the house will be + opened.” + </p> + <p> + Father d’Aigrigny remained in thought for a moment, and then said to + Rodin: “On the eve of such a decisive day, we must neglect nothing, + and call every circumstance to memory. Read me the copy of the note, + inserted in the archives of the society, a century and a half ago, on the + subject of Rennepont.” + </p> + <p> + The secretary took the note from the case, and read as follows: + </p> + <p> + “‘This 19th day of February, 1682, the Reverend + Father-Provincial Alexander Bourdon sent the following advice, with these + words in the margin: Of extreme importance for the future. + </p> + <p> + “‘We have just discovered, by the confession of a dying person + to one of our fathers, a very close secret. + </p> + <p> + “‘Marius de Rennepont, one of the most active and redoubtable + partisans of the Reformed Religion, and one of the most determined enemies + of our Holy Society, had apparently re-entered the pale of our Mother + Church, but with the sole design of saving his worldly goods, threatened + with confiscation because of his irreligious and damnable errors. Evidence + having been furnished by different persons of our company to prove that + the conversion of Rennepont was not sincere, and in reality covered a + sacrilegious lure, the possessions of the said gentleman, now considered a + relapsed heretic, were confiscated by our gracious sovereign, his Majesty + King Louis XIV, and the said Rennepont was condemned to the galleys for + life.(12) He escaped his doom by a voluntary death; in consequence of + which abominable crime, his body was dragged upon a hurdle, and flung to + the dogs on the highway. + </p> + <p> + “‘From these preliminaries, we come to the great secret, which + is of such importance to the future interests of our Society. + </p> + <p> + “‘His Majesty Louis XIV., in his paternal and Catholic + goodness towards the Church in general, and our Order in particular, had + granted to us the profit of this confiscation, in acknowledgment of our + services in discovering the infamous and sacrilegious relapse of the said + Rennepont. + </p> + <p> + “‘But we have just learned, for certain, that a house situated + in Paris, No. 3, Rue Saint-Francois, and a sum of fifty thousand gold + crowns, have escaped this confiscation, and have consequently been stolen + from our Society. + </p> + <p> + “‘The house was conveyed, before the confiscation, by means of + a feigned purchase, to a friend of Rennepont’s a good Catholic, + unfortunately, as against him we cannot take any severe measures. Thanks + to the culpable, but secure connivance of his friend, the house has been + walled up, and is only to be opened in a century and a half, according to + the last will of Rennepont. As for the fifty thousand gold crowns, they + have been placed in hands which, unfortunately, are hitherto unknown to + us, in order to be invested and put out to use for one hundred and fifty + years, at the expiration of which time they are to be divided between the + then existing descendants of the said Rennepont; and it is calculated that + this sum, increased by so many accumulations, will by then have become + enormous, and will amount to at least forty or fifty millions of livres + tournois. From motives which are not known, but which are duly stated in a + testamentary document, the said Rennepont has concealed from his family, + whom the edicts against the Protestants have driven out of France, the + investment of these fifty thousand crowns; and has only desired his + relations to preserve in their line from generation to generation, the + charge to the last survivors, to meet in Paris, Rue Saint-Francois, a + hundred and fifty years hence, on February the 13th, 1832. And that this + charge might not be forgotten, he employed a person, whose description is + known, but not his real occupation, to cause to be manufactured sundry + bronze medals, on which the request and date are engraved, and to deliver + one to each member of the family—a measure the more necessary, as, + from some other motive equally unknown, but probably explained in the + testament, the heirs are to present themselves on the day in question, + before noon, in person, and not by any attorney, or representative, or to + forfeit all claim to the inheritance. The stranger who undertook to + distribute the medals to the different members of the family of Rennepont + is a man of thirty to thirty-six years of age, of tall stature, and with a + proud and sad expression of countenance. He has black eyebrows, very + thick, and singularly joined together. He is known as JOSEPH, and is much + suspected of being an active and dangerous emissary of the wretched + republicans and heretics of the Seven United Provinces. It results from + these premises, that this sum, surreptitiously confided by a relapsed + heretic to unknown hands, has escaped the confiscation decreed in our + favor by our well-beloved king. A serious fraud and injury has therefore + been committed, and we are bound to take every means to recover this our + right, if not immediately, at least in some future time. Our Society being + (for the greater glory of God and our Holy Father) imperishable, it will + be easy, thanks to the connections we keep up with all parts of the world, + by means of missions and other establishments, to follow the line of this + family of Rennepont from generation to generation, without ever losing + sight of it—so that a hundred and fifty years hence, at the moment + of the division of this immense accumulation of property, our Company may + claim the inheritance of which it has been so treacherously deprived, and + recover it by any means in its power, fas aut nefas, even by craft or + violence—our Company not being bound to act tenderly with the future + detainers of our goods, of which we have been maliciously deprived by an + infamous and sacrilegious heretic—and because it is right to defend, + preserve, and recover one’s own property by every means which the + Lord may place within one’s reach. Until, therefore, the complete + restitution of this wealth, the family of Rennepont must be considered as + reprobate and damnable, as the cursed seed of a Cain, and always to be + watched with the utmost caution. And it is to be recommended, that, every + year from this present date, a sort of inquisition should be held as to + the situation of the successive members of this family.’” + </p> + <p> + Rodin paused, and said to Father d’Aigrigny: “Here follows the + account, year by year, of the history of this family, from the year 1682, + to our own day. It will be useless to read this to your reverence.” + </p> + <p> + “Quite useless,” said Abbe d’Aigrigny. “The note + contains all the important facts.” Then, after a moment’s + silence, he exclaimed, with an expression of triumphant pride: “How + great is the power of the Association, when founded upon tradition and + perpetuity! Thanks to this note, inserted in our archives a century and a + half ago, this family has been watched from generation to generation—our + Order has always had its eyes upon them, following them to all points of + the globe, to which exile had distributed them—and at last, + to-morrow, we shall obtain possession of this property, at first + inconsiderable, but which a hundred and fifty years have raised to a royal + fortune. Yes, we shall succeed, for we have foreseen every eventuality. + One thing only troubles me.” + </p> + <p> + “What is that?” asked Rodin. + </p> + <p> + “The information that we have in vain tried to obtain from the + guardian of the house in the Rue Saint-Francois. Has the attempt been once + more made, as I directed?” + </p> + <p> + “It has been made.” + </p> + <p> + “Well?” + </p> + <p> + “This time, as always before, the old Jew has remained impenetrable. + Besides he is almost in his second childhood, and his wife not much + better.” + </p> + <p> + “When I think,” resumed Father d’Aigrigny, “that + for a century and a half, this house in the Rue Saint-Francois has + remained walled up, and that the care of it has been transmitted from + generation to generation in this family of the Samuels—I cannot + suppose that they have all been ignorant as to who were and are the + successive holders of these funds, now become immense by accumulation.” + </p> + <p> + “You have seen,” said Rodin, “by the notes upon this + affair, that the Order has always carefully followed it up ever since + 1682. At different periods attempts have been made to obtain information + upon subjects not fully explained in the note of Father Bourdon. But this + race of Jew guardians has ever remained dumb, and we must therefore + conclude that they know nothing about it.” + </p> + <p> + “That has always struck me as impossible; for the ancestor of these + Samuels was present at the closing of the house, a hundred and fifty years + ago. He was according to the file, a servant or confidential clerk of De + Rennepont. It is impossible that he should not have known many things, the + tradition of which must have been preserved in the family.” + </p> + <p> + “If I were allowed to hazard a brief observation,” began + Rodin, humbly. + </p> + <p> + “Speak.” + </p> + <p> + “A few years ago we obtained certain information through the + confessional, that the funds were in existence, and that they had risen to + an enormous amount.” + </p> + <p> + “Doubtless; and it was that which called the attention of the + Reverend Father-General so strongly to this affair.” + </p> + <p> + “We know, then, what probably the descendants of the family do not—the + immense value of this inheritance?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” answered Father d’Aigrigny, “the person who + certified this fact in confession is worthy of all belief. Only lately, + the same declaration was renewed; but all the efforts of the confessor + could not obtain the name of the trustee, or anything beyond the + assertion, that the money could not be in more honest hands.” + </p> + <p> + “It seems to me, then,” resumed Rodin, “that we are + certain of what is most important.” + </p> + <p> + “And who knows if the holder of this enormous sum will appear + to-morrow, in spite of the honesty ascribed to him? The nearer the moment + the more my anxiety increases. Ah!” continued Father d’Aigrigny, + after a moment’s silence, “the interests concerned are so + immense that the consequences of success are quite incalculable. However, + all that it was possible to do, has been at least tried.” + </p> + <p> + To these words, which Father d’Aigrigny addressed to Rodin, as if + asking for his assent, the socius returned no answer. + </p> + <p> + The abbe looked at him with surprise, and said: “Are you not of my + opinion—could more have been attempted? Have we not gone to the + extreme limit of the possible?” + </p> + <p> + Rodin bowed respectfully, but remained mute. + </p> + <p> + “If you think we have omitted some precaution,” cried Father d’Aigrigny, + with a sort of uneasy impatience, “speak out! We have still time. + Once more, do you think it is possible to do more than I have done? All + the other descendants being removed, when Gabriel appears to-morrow in the + Rue Saint-Francois, will he not be the only representative of this family, + and consequently the rightful possessor of this immense fortune? Now, + according to his act of renunciation, and the provisions of our statutes, + it is not to him, but to the Order, that these possessions must fall. + Could I have acted better, or in any other manner? Speak frankly!” + </p> + <p> + “I cannot permit myself to offer an opinion on this subject,” + replied Rodin, humbly, and again bowing; “the success of the + measures taken must answer your reverence.” + </p> + <p> + Father d’Aigrigny shrugged his shoulders, and reproached himself for + having asked advice of this writing-machine, that served him for a + secretary, and to whom he only ascribed three qualities—memory, + discretion, and exactness. + </p> + <p> + (11) This was an idle fear, for we read in the Constitutionnel, Feb. 1st + 1832, as follows: “When in 1822, M. de Corbiere abruptly abolished + that splendid Normal School, which, during its few years’ existence, + had called forth or developed such a variety of talent, it was decided, as + some compensation, that a house in the Rue des Postes should be purchased, + where the congregation of the Holy Ghost should be located and endowed. + The Minister of Marine supplied the funds for this purpose, and its + management was placed at the disposal of the Society, which then reigned + over France. From that period it has held quiet possession of the place, + which at once became a sort of house of entertainment, where Jesuitism + sheltered, and provided for, the numerous novitiates that flocked from all + parts of the country, to receive instructions from Father Ronsin. Matters + were in this state when the Revolution of July broke out, which threatened + to deprive the Society of this establishment. But it will hardly be + believed; this was not done. It is true that they suppressed their + practice, but they left them in possession of the house in the Rue des + Postes; and to this very day, the 31st of January, 1832, the members of + the Sacred Heart are housed at the expense of government, during the whole + of which time the Normal School has been without a shelter—and on + its reorganization, thrust into a dirty hole, in a narrow corner of the + College of Louis the Great.” + </p> + <p> + The above appeared in the Constitutionnel, respecting the house in the Rue + des Posses. We are certainly ignorant as to the nature of the + transactions, since that period, that have taken place between the + reverend fathers and the government; but we read further, in a recently + published article that appeared in a journal, in reference to the Society + of Jesus, that the house in the Rue des Postes, still forms a part of + their landed property. We will here give some portions of the article in + question. + </p> + <p> + “The following is a list of the property belonging to this branch of + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Jesuits: Fr. + House in the Rue de Postes, worth about 500,000 + One in the Rue de Sevres, estimated at 300,000 + Farm, two leagues from Paris.....150,000 + House and church at Bourges..... 100,000 + Notre Dame de Liesse, donation in 1843 60,000 + Saint Acheul, House for Novitiates.. 400,000 + Nantes, a house...........100,000 + Quimper, ditto........... 40,000 + Laval, house and church...... 150,000 + Rennes, a house.......... 20,000 + Vannes, ditto........... 20,000 + Metz, ditto............ 40,000 + Strasbourg............ 60,000 + Rouen, ditto........... 15,000 +</pre> + <p> + “By this it appears that these various items amount to little less + than two millions. Teaching, moreover, is another important source of + revenue to the Jesuits. The college at Broyclette alone brings in 200,000 + francs. The two provinces in France (for the general of the Jesuits at + Rome has divided France into two provinces, Lyons and Paris) possess, + besides a large sum in ready money, Austrian bonds of more than 260,000 + francs. Their Propagation of Faith furnishes annually some 50,000 francs; + and the harvest which the priests collect by their sermons amounts to + 150,000 francs. The alms given for charity may be estimated at the same + figure, producing together a revenue of 540,000 francs. Now, to this + revenue may be added the produce of the sale of the Society’s works, + and the profit obtained by hawking pictures. Each plate costs, design and + engraving included, about 600 francs, off which are struck about 10,000 + copies, at 40 francs per thousand, and there is a further expense of 250 + francs to their publisher; and they obtain a net profit of 210 francs on + every thousand. This, indeed, is working to advantage. And it can easily + be imagined with what rapidity all these are sold. The fathers themselves + are the travellers for the Society, and it would be difficult to find more + zealous or persevering ones. They are always well received, and do not + know what it is to meet with a refusal. They always take care that the + publisher should be one of their own body. The first person whom they + selected for this occupation was one of their members, possessing some + money; but they were obliged, notwithstanding, to make certain advances to + enable him to defray the expenses of its first establishment. But, when + they became fully convinced of the success of their undertaking, they + suddenly called in these advances, which the publisher was not in a + condition to pay. They were perfectly aware of this, and superseded him by + a wealthy successor, with whom they could make a better bargain; and thus, + without remorse, they ruined the man, by thrusting him from an appointment + of which they had morally guaranteed the continuance.” + </p> + <p> + (12) Louis XIV., the great King, punished with the Galleys those + Protestants who, once converted, often by force, afterwards returned to + their first belief. As for those Protestants who remained in France, + notwithstanding the rigor of the edicts against them, they were deprived + of burial, dragged upon a hurdle, and given to the dogs.—E. S. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0068" id="link2HCH0068"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XV. THE THUG. + </h2> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">A</span>fter a moment’s + silence, Father d’Aigrigny resumed “Read me to-day’s + report on the situation of each of the persons designated.” + </p> + <p> + “Here is that of this evening; it has just come.” + </p> + <p> + “Let us hear.” + </p> + <p> + Rodin read as follows: “Jacques Rennepont, alias Sleepinbuff, was + seen in the interior of the debtors’ prison at eight o’clock + this evening.” + </p> + <p> + “He will not disturb us to-morrow. One; go on.” + </p> + <p> + “The lady superior of St. Mary’s Convent, warned by the + Princess de Saint-Dizier, has thought fit to confine still more strictly + the Demoiselles Rose and Blanche Simon. This evening, at nine o’clock, + they have been carefully locked in their cells, and armed men will make + their round in the convent garden during the night.” + </p> + <p> + “Thanks to these precautions, there is nothing to fear from that + side,” said Father d’Aigrigny. “Go on.” + </p> + <p> + “Dr. Baleinier, also warned by the Princess de Saint-Dizier, + continues to have Mdlle. de Cardoville very closely watched. At a quarter + to nine the door of the building in which she is lodged was locked and + bolted.” + </p> + <p> + “That is still another cause the less for uneasiness.” + </p> + <p> + “As for M. Hardy,” resumed Rodin “I have received this + morning, from Toulouse, a letter from his intimate friend, M. de Bressac, + who has been of such service to us in keeping the manufacturer away for + some days longer. This letter contains a note, addressed by M. Hardy to a + confidential person, which M. de Bressac has thought fit to intercept, and + send to us as another proof of the success of the steps he has taken, and + for which he hopes we shall give him credit—as to serve us, he adds, + he betrays his friend in the most shameful manner, and acts a part in an + odious comedy. M. de Bressac trusts that, in return for these good + offices, we will deliver up to him those papers, which place him in our + absolute dependence, as they might ruin for ever a woman he loves with an + adulterous passion. He says that we ought to have pity on the horrible + alternative in which he is placed—either to dishonor and ruin the + woman he adores, or infamously to betray the confidence of his bosom + friend.” + </p> + <p> + “These adulterous lamentations are not deserving of pity,” + answered Father d’Aigrigny, with contempt. “We will see about + that; M. de Bressac may still be useful to us. But let us hear this letter + of M. Hardy, that impious and republican manufacturer, worthy descendant + of an accursed race, whom it is of the first importance to keep away.” + </p> + <p> + “Here is M. Hardy’s letter,” resumed Rodin. “To-morrow, + we will send it to the person to whom it is addressed.” Rodin read + as follows: + </p> + <p> + “TOULOUSE, February the 10th. + </p> + <p> + “At length I find a moment to write to you, and to explain the cause + of the sudden departure which, without alarming, must at least have + astonished you. I write also to ask you a service; the facts may be stated + in a few words. I have often spoken to you of Felix de Bressac, one of my + boyhood mates, though not nearly so old as myself. We have always loved + each other tenderly, and have shown too many proofs of mutual affection + not to count upon one another. He is a brother to me. You know all I mean + by that expression. Well—a few days ago, he wrote to me from + Toulouse, where he was to spend some time: ‘If you love me, come; I + have the greatest need of you. At once! Your consolations may perhaps give + me the courage to live. If you arrive too late—why, forgive me—and + think sometimes of him who will be yours to the last.’ Judge of my + grief and fear on receipt of the above. I seat instantly for post-horses. + My old foreman, whom I esteem and revere (the father of General Simon), + hearing that I was going to the south, begged me to take him with me, and + to leave him for some days in the department of the Creuse, to examine + some ironworks recently founded there. I consented willingly to this + proposition, as I should thus at least have some one to whom I could pour + out the grief and anxiety which had been caused by this letter from + Bressac. I arrive at Toulouse; they tell me that he left the evening + before, taking arms with him, a prey to the most violent despair. It was + impossible at first to tell whither he had gone; after two days, some + indications, collected with great trouble, put me upon his track. At last, + after a thousand adventures, I found him in a miserable village. Never—no, + never, have I seen despair like this. No violence, but a dreadful + dejection, a savage silence. At first, he almost repulsed me; then, this + horrible agony having reached its height, he softened by degrees, and, in + about a quarter of an hour, threw himself into my arms, bathed in tears. + Beside him were his loaded pistols: one day later, and all would have been + over. I cannot tell you the reason of his despair; I am not at liberty to + do so; but it did not greatly astonish me. Now there is a complete cure to + effect. We must calm, and soothe, and heal this poor soul, which has been + cruelly wounded. The hand of friendship is alone equal to this delicate + task, and I have good hope of success. I have therefore persuaded him to + travel for some time; movement and change of scene will be favorable to + him. I shall take him first to Nice; we set out tomorrow. If he wishes to + prolong this excursion. I shall do so too, for my affairs do not + imperiously demand my presence in Paris before the end of March. As for + the service I have to ask of you, it is conditional. These are the facts. + According to some family papers that belonged to my mother, it seems I + have a certain interest to present myself at No. 3, Rue Saint-Francois, in + Paris, on the 13th of February. I had inquired about it, and could learn + nothing, except that this house of very antique appearance, has been shut + up for the last hundred and fifty years, through a whim of one of my + maternal ancestors, and that it is to be opened on the 13th of this month, + in presence of the co-heirs who, if I have any, are quite unknown to me. + Not being able to attend myself, I have written to my foreman, the father + of General Simon, in whom I have the greatest confidence, and whom I had + left behind in the department of the Creuse, to set out for Paris, and to + be present at the opening of this house, not as an agent (which would be + useless), but as a spectator, and inform me at Nice what has been the + result of this romantic notion of my ancestor’s. As it is possible + that my foreman may arrive too late to accomplish this mission, I should + be much obliged if you would inquire at my house at Plessy, if he has yet + come, and, in case of his still being absent, if you would take his place + at the opening of the house in the Rue Saint-Francois. I believe that I + have made a very small sacrifice for my friend Bressac, in not being in + Paris on that day. But had the sacrifice been immense, I should have made + it with pleasure, for my care and friendship are at present most necessary + to the man whom I look upon as a brother. I count upon your compliance + with my request, and, begging you to be kind enough to write me, ‘to + be called for,’ at Nice, the result of your visit of inquiry, I + remain, etc., etc. + </p> + <p> + “FRANCIS HARDY.” + </p> + <p> + “Though his presence cannot be of any great importance, it would be + preferable that Marshal Simon’s father should not attend at the + opening of this house to-morrow,” said Father d’Aigrigny. + “But no matter. M. Hardy himself is out of the way. There only + remains the young Indian.” + </p> + <p> + “As for him,” continued the abbe, with a thoughtful air, + “we acted wisely in letting M. Norval set out with the presents of + Mdlle. de Cardoville. The doctor who accompanies M. Norval, and who was + chosen by M. Baleinier, will inspire no suspicion?” + </p> + <p> + “None,” answered Rodin. “His letter of yesterday is + completely satisfactory.” + </p> + <p> + “There is nothing, then, to fear from the Indian prince,” said + D’Aigrigny. “All goes well.” + </p> + <p> + “As for Gabriel,” resumed Rodin, “he has again written + this morning, to obtain from your reverence the interview that he has + vainly solicited for the last three days. He is affected by the rigor + exercised towards him, in forbidding him to leave the house for these five + days past.” + </p> + <p> + “To-morrow, when we take him to the Rue Saint-Francois, I will hear + what he has to say. It will be time enough. Thus, at this hour,” + said Father d’Aigrigny, with an air of triumphant satisfaction, + “all the descendants of this family, whose presence might ruin our + projects, are so placed that it is absolutely impossible for them to be at + the Rue Saint-Francois to-morrow before noon, while Gabriel will be sure + to be there. At last our end is gained.” + </p> + <p> + Two cautious knocks at the door interrupted Father d’Aigrigny. + “Come in,” said he. + </p> + <p> + An old servant in black presented himself, and said: “There is a man + downstairs who wishes to speak instantly to M. Rodin on very urgent + business.” + </p> + <p> + “His name?” asked Father d’Aigrigny. + </p> + <p> + “He would not tell his name; but he says that he comes from M. Van + Dael, a merchant in Java.” + </p> + <p> + Father d’Aigrigny and Rodin exchanged a glance of surprise, almost + of alarm. + </p> + <p> + “See what this man is,” said D’Aigrigny to Rodin, unable + to conceal his uneasiness, “and then come and give me an account of + it.” Then, addressing the servant, he added: “Show him in”—and + exchanging another expressive sign with Rodin, Father d’Aigrigny + disappeared by a side-door. + </p> + <p> + A minute after, Faringhea, the ex-chief of the Stranglers, appeared before + Rodin, who instantly remembered having seen him at Cardoville Castle. + </p> + <p> + The socius started, but he did not wish to appear to recollect his + visitor. Still bending over his desk, he seemed not to seen Faringhea, but + wrote hastily some words on a sheet of paper that lay before him. + </p> + <p> + “Sir,” said the servant, astonished at the silence of Rodin, + “here is the person.” + </p> + <p> + Rodin folded the note that he had so precipitately written, and said to + the servant: “Let this be taken to its address. Wait for an answer.” + </p> + <p> + The servant bowed, and went out. Then Rodin, without rising, fixed his + little reptile-eyes on Faringhea, and said to him courteously: “To + whom, sir, have I the honor of speaking?” + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:65%;"> + <img src="images/20157m.jpg" alt="20157m” width=" /><br /> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/20157.jpg"><i>Original</i></a> + </h5> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0069" id="link2HCH0069"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XVI. THE TWO BROTHERS OF THE GOOD WORK. + </h2> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">F</span>aringhea, as we + have before stated, though born in India, had travelled a good deal, and + frequented the European factories in different parts of Asia. Speaking + well both English and French, and full of intelligence and sagacity, he + was perfectly civilized. + </p> + <p> + Instead of answering Rodin’s question, he turned upon him a fixed + and searching look. The socius, provoked by this silence, and forseeing + vaguely that Faringhea’s arrival had some connection—direct or + indirect—with Djalma, repeated, though still with the greatest + coolness: “To whom, sir, have I the honor of speaking?” + </p> + <p> + “Do you not recognize me,” said Faringhea, advancing two steps + nearer to Rodin’s chair. + </p> + <p> + “I do not think I have ever had the honor of seeing you,” + answered the other, coldly. + </p> + <p> + “But I recognize you,” said Faringhea; “I saw you at + Cardoville Castle the day that a ship and a steamer were wrecked together.” + </p> + <p> + “At Cardoville Castle? It is very possible, sir. I was there when a + shipwreck took place.” + </p> + <p> + “And that day I called you by your name, and you asked me what I + wanted. I replied: ‘Nothing now, brother—hereafter, much.’ + The time has arrived. I have come to ask for much.” + </p> + <p> + “My dear sir,” said Rodin, still impassible, “before we + continue this conversation, which appears hitherto tolerably obscure, I + must repeat my wish to be informed to whom I have the advantage of + speaking. You have introduced yourself here under pretext of a commission + from Mynheer Joshua Van Dael, a respectable merchant of Batavia, and—” + </p> + <p> + “You know the writing of M. Van Dael?” said Faringhea, + interrupting Rodin. + </p> + <p> + “I know it perfectly.” + </p> + <p> + “Look!” The half-caste drew from his pocket (he was shabbily + dressed in European clothes) a long dispatch, which he had taken from one + Mahal the Smuggler, after strangling him on the beach near Batavia. These + papers he placed before Rodin’s eyes, but without quitting his hold + of them. + </p> + <p> + “It is, indeed, M. Van Dael’s writing,” said Rodin, and + he stretched out his hard towards the letter, which Faringhea quickly and + prudently returned to his pocket. + </p> + <p> + “Allow me to observe, my dear sir, that you have a singular manner + of executing a commission,” said Rodin. “This letter, being to + my address, and having been entrusted to you by M. Van Dael, you ought—” + </p> + <p> + “This letter was not entrusted to me by M. Van Dael,” said + Faringhea, interrupting Rodin. + </p> + <p> + “How, then, is it in your possession?” + </p> + <p> + “A Javanese smuggler betrayed me. Van Dael had secured a passage to + Alexandria for this man, and had given him this letter to carry with him + for the European mail. I strangled the smuggler, took the letter, made the + passage—and here I am.” + </p> + <p> + The Thug had pronounced these words with an air of savage boasting; his + wild, intrepid glance did not quail before the piercing look of Rodin, + who, at this strange confession, had hastily raised his head to observe + the speaker. + </p> + <p> + Faringhea thought to astonish or intimidate Rodin by these ferocious + words; but, to his great surprise, the socius, impassible as a corpse, + said to him, quite simply: “Oh! they strangle people in Java?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, there and elsewhere,” answered Faringhea, with a bitter + smile. + </p> + <p> + “I would prefer to disbelieve you; but I am surprised at your + sincerity M.—, what is your name?” + </p> + <p> + “Faringhea.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, then, M. Faringhea, what do you wish to come to? You have + obtained by an abominable crime, a letter addressed to me, and now you + hesitate to deliver it.” + </p> + <p> + “Because I have read it, and it may be useful to me.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! you have read it?” said Rodin, disconcerted for a moment. + Then he resumed: “It is true, that judging by your mode of + possessing yourself of other people’s correspondence, we cannot + expect any great amount of honesty on your part. And pray what have you + found so useful to you in this letter?” + </p> + <p> + “I have found, brother, that you are, like myself, a son of the Good + Work.” + </p> + <p> + “Of what good work do you speak” asked Rodin not a little + surprised. + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:65%;"> + <img src="images/20165m.jpg" alt="20165m” width=" /><br /> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/20165.jpg"><i>Original</i></a> + </h5> + <p> + Faringhea replied with an expression of bitter irony. “Joshua says + to you in his letter—‘Obedience and courage, secrecy and + patience, craft and audacity, union between us, who have the world for our + country, the brethren for our family, Rome for our queen.’” + </p> + <p> + “It is possible that M. Van Dael has written thus to me Pray, sir, + what do you conclude from it?” + </p> + <p> + “We, too, have the world for our country, brother, our accomplices + for our family, and for our queen Bowanee.” + </p> + <p> + “I do not know that saint,” said Rodin, humbly. + </p> + <p> + “It is our Rome,” answered the Strangler. “Van Dael + speaks to you of those of your Order, who, scattered over all the earth, + labor for the glory of Rome, your queen. Those of our band labor also in + divers countries, for the glory of Bowanee.” + </p> + <p> + “And who are these sons of Bowanee, M. Faringhea?” + </p> + <p> + “Men of resolution, audacious, patient, crafty, obstinate, who, to + make the Good Work succeed, would sacrifice country and parents, and + sister and brother, and who regard as enemies all not of their band!” + </p> + <p> + “There seems to be much that is good in the persevering and + exclusively religious spirit of such an order,” said Rodin, with a + modest and sanctified air; “only, one must know your ends and + objects.” + </p> + <p> + “The same as your own, brother—we make corpses.”(13) + </p> + <p> + “Corpses!” cried Rodin. + </p> + <p> + “In this letter,” resumed Faringhea, “Van Dael tells you + that the greatest glory of your Order is to make ‘a corpse of man.’ + Our work also is to make corpses of men. Man’s death is sweet to + Bowanee.” + </p> + <p> + “But sir,” cried Rodin, “M. Van Dael speaks of the soul, + of the will, of the mind, which are to be brought down by discipline.” + </p> + <p> + “It is true—you kill the soul, and we the body. Give me your + hand, brother, for you also are hunters of men.” + </p> + <p> + “But once more, sir,—understand, that we only meddle with the + will, the mind,” said Rodin. + </p> + <p> + “And what are bodies deprived of soul, will, thought, but mere + corpses? Come—come, brother; the dead we make by the cord are not + more icy and inanimate than those you make by your discipline. Take my + hand, brother; Rome and Bowanee are sisters.” + </p> + <p> + Notwithstanding his apparent calmness, Rodin could not behold, without + some secret alarm, a wretch like Faringhea in possession of a long letter + from Van Dael, wherein mention must necessarily have been made of Djalma. + Rodin believed, indeed, that he had rendered it impossible for the young + Indian to be at Paris on the morrow, but not knowing what connection might + have been formed, since the shipwreck, between the prince and the + half-caste, he looked upon Faringhea as a man who might probably be very + dangerous. But the more uneasy the socius felt in himself, the more he + affected to appear calm and disdainful. He replied, therefore: “This + comparison between Rome and Bowanee is no doubt very amusing; but what, + sir, do you deduce from it?” + </p> + <p> + “I wish to show you, brother, what I am, and of what I am capable, + to convince you that it is better to have me for a friend than an enemy.” + </p> + <p> + “In other terms, sir,” said Rodin, with contemptuous irony, + “you belong to a murderous sect in India, and, you wish, by a + transparent allegory, to lead me to reflect on the fate of the man from + whom you have stolen the letter addressed to me. In my turn, I will take + the freedom just to observe to you, in all humility, M. Faringhea, that + here it is not permitted to strangle anybody, and that if you were to + think fit to make any corpses for the love of Bowanee, your goddess, we + should make you a head shorter, for the love of another divinity commonly + called justice.” + </p> + <p> + “And what would they do to me, if I tried to poison any one?” + </p> + <p> + “I will again humbly observe to you, M. Faringhea, that I have no + time to give you a course of criminal jurisprudence; but, believe me, you + had better resist the temptation to strangle or poison any one. One word + more: will you deliver up to me the letters of M. Van Dael, or not?” + </p> + <p> + “The letters relative to Prince Djalma?” said the half-caste, + looking fixedly at Rodin, who, notwithstanding a sharp and sudden twinge, + remained impenetrable, and answered with the utmost simplicity: “Not + knowing what the letters which you, sir, are pleased to keep from me, may + contain, it is impossible for me to answer your question. I beg, and if + necessary, I demand, that you will hand me those letters—or that you + will retire.” + </p> + <p> + “In a few minutes, brother, you will entreat me to remain.” + </p> + <p> + “I doubt it.” + </p> + <p> + “A few words will operate—this miracle. If just now I spoke to + you about poisoning, brother, it was because you sent a doctor to + Cardoville Castle, to poison (at least for a time) Prince Djalma.” + </p> + <p> + In spite of himself, Rodin started almost imperceptibly, as he replied: + “I do not understand you.” + </p> + <p> + “It is true, that I am a poor foreigner, and doubtless speak with an + accent; I will try and explain myself better. I know, by Van Dael’s + letters, the interest you have that Prince Djalma should not be here to + morrow, and all that you have done with this view. Do you understand me + now?” + </p> + <p> + “I have no answer for you.” + </p> + <p> + Two cautious taps at the door here interrupted the conversation. “Come + in,” said Rodin. + </p> + <p> + “The letter has been taken to its address, sir,” said the old + servant, bowing, “and here is the answer.” + </p> + <p> + Rodin took the paper, and, before he opened it, said courteously to + Faringhea: “With your permission, sir?” + </p> + <p> + “Make no ceremonies,” said the half-caste. + </p> + <p> + “You are very kind,” replied Rodin, as, having read the letter + he received, he wrote hastily some words at the bottom, saying: “Send + this back to the same address.” + </p> + <p> + The servant bowed respectfully, and withdrew. + </p> + <p> + “Now can I continue”’ asked the half-caste, of Rodin. + </p> + <p> + “Certainly.” + </p> + <p> + “I will continue, then,” resumed Faringhea: + </p> + <p> + “The day before yesterday, just as the prince, all wounded as he + was, was about, by my advice, to take his departure for Paris, a fine + carriage arrived, with superb presents for Djalma, from an unknown friend. + In this carriage were two men—one sent by the unknown friend—the + other a doctor, sent by you to attend upon Djalma, and accompany him to + Paris. It was a charitable act, brother—was it not so?” + </p> + <p> + “Go on with your story, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “Djalma set out yesterday. By declaring that the prince’s + wound would grow seriously worse, if he did not lie down in the carriage + during all the journey, the doctor got rid of the envoy of the unknown + friend, who went away by himself. The doctor wished to get rid of me too; + but Djalma so strongly insisted upon it, that I accompanied the prince and + doctor. Yesterday evening, we had come about half the distance. The doctor + proposed we should pass the night at an inn. ‘We have plenty of + time,’ said he, ‘to reach Paris by to-morrow evening’—the + prince having told him, that he must absolutely be in Paris by the evening + of the 12th. The doctor had been very pressing to set out alone with the + prince. I knew by Van Dael’s letter, that it was of great importance + to you for Djalma not to be here on the 13th; I had my suspicions, and I + asked the doctor if he knew you; he answered with an embarrassed air, and + then my suspicion became certainty. When we reached the inn, whilst the + doctor was occupied with Djalma, I went up to the room of the former, and + examined a box full of phials that he had brought with him. One of them + contained opium—and then I guessed—” + </p> + <p> + “What did you guess, sir?” + </p> + <p> + “You shall know. The doctor said to Djalma, before he left him: + ‘Your wound is doing well, but the fatigue of the journey might + bring on inflammation; it will be good for you, in the course of + to-morrow, to take a soothing potion, that I will make ready this evening, + to have with us in the carriage.’ The doctor’s plan was a + simple one,” added Faringhea; “to-day the prince was to take + the potion at four or five o’clock in the afternoon—and fall + into a deep sleep—the doctor to grow uneasy, and stop the carriage—to + declare that it would be dangerous to continue the journey—to pass + the night at an inn, and keep close watch over the prince, whose stupor + was only, to cease when it suited your purposes. That was your design—it + was cleverly planned—I chose to make use of it myself, and I have + succeeded.” + </p> + <p> + “All that you are talking about, my dear sir,” said Rodin, + biting his nails, “is pure Hebrew to me.” + </p> + <p> + “No doubt, because of my accent. But tell me, have you heard speak + of array—mow?” + </p> + <p> + “No.” + </p> + <p> + “Your loss! It is an admirable production of the Island of Java, so + fertile in poisons.” + </p> + <p> + “What is that to me?” said Rodin, in a sharp voice, but hardly + able to dissemble his growing anxiety. + </p> + <p> + “It concerns you nearly. We sons of Bowanee have a horror of + shedding blood,” resumed Faringhea; “to pass the cord round + the neck of our victims, we wait till they are asleep. When their sleep is + not deep enough, we know how to make it deeper. We are skillful at our + work; the serpent is not more cunning, or the lion more valiant, Djalma + himself bears our mark. The array-mow is an impalpable powder, and, by + letting the sleeper inhale a few grains of it, or by mixing it with the + tobacco to be smoked by a waking man, we can throw our victim into a + stupor, from which nothing will rouse him. If we fear to administer too + strong a dose at once, we let the sleeper inhale a little at different + times, and we can thus prolong the trance at pleasure, and without any + danger, as long as a man does not require meat and drink—say, thirty + or forty hours. You see, that opium is mere trash compared to this divine + narcotic. I had brought some of this with me from Java—as a mere + curiosity, you know—without forgetting the counter poison.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! there is a counter-poison, then?” said Rodin, + mechanically. + </p> + <p> + “Just as there are people quite contrary to what we are, brother of + the good work. The Javanese call the juice of this root tooboe; it + dissipates the stupor caused by the array-mow, as the sun disperses the + clouds. Now, yesterday evening, being certain of the projects of your + emissary against Djalma, I waited till the doctor was in bed and asleep. I + crept into his room, and made him inhale such a dose of array-mow—that + he is probably sleeping still.” + </p> + <p> + “Miscreant!” cried Rodin, more and more alarmed by this + narrative, for Faringhea had dealt a terrible blow at the machinations of + the socius and his friends. “You risk poisoning the doctor.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, brother; just as he ran the risk of poisoning Djalma. This + morning we set out, leaving your doctor at the inn, plunged in a deep + sleep. I was alone in the carriage with Djalma. He smoked like a true + Indian; some grains of array-mow, mixed with the tobacco in his long pipe, + first made him drowsy; a second dose, that he inhaled, sent him to sleep; + and so I left him at the inn where we stopped. Now, brother, it depends + upon me, to leave Djalma in his trance, which will last till to-morrow + evening or to rouse him from it on the instant. Exactly as you comply with + my demands or not, Djalma will or will not be in the Rue Saint-Francois to + morrow.” + </p> + <p> + So saying, Faringhea drew from his pocket the medal belonging to Djalma, + and observed, as he showed it to Rodin: “You see that I tell you the + truth. During Djalma’s sleep, took from him this medal, the only + indication he has of the place where he ought to be to-morrow. I finish, + then as I began: Brother, I have come to ask you for a great deal.” + </p> + <p> + For some minutes, Rodin had been biting his nails to the quick, as was his + custom when seized with a fit of dumb and concentrated rage. Just then, + the bell of the porter’s lodge rang three times in a particular + manner. Rodin did not appear to notice it, and yet a sudden light sparkled + in his small reptile eyes; while Faringhea, with his arms folded, looked + at him with an expression of triumph and disdainful superiority. The + socius bent down his head, remained silent for some seconds, took + mechanically a pen from his desk, and began to gnaw the feather, as if in + deep reflection upon what Faringhea had just said. Then, throwing down the + pen upon the desk, he turned suddenly towards the half-caste, and + addressed him with an air of profound contempt “Now, really, M. + Faringhea—do you think to make game of us with your cock-and bull + stories?” + </p> + <p> + Amazed, in spite of his audacity, the half-caste recoiled a step. + </p> + <p> + “What, sir!” resumed Rodin. “You come here into a + respectable house, to boast that you have stolen letters, strangled this + man, drugged that other?—Why, sir, it is downright madness. I wished + to hear you to the end, to see to what extent you would carry your + audacity—for none but a monstrous rascal would venture to plume + himself on such infamous crimes. But I prefer believing, that they exist + only in your imagination.” + </p> + <p> + As he barked out these words, with a degree of animation not usual in him, + Rodin rose from his seat, and approached the chimney, while Faringhea, who + had not yet recovered from his surprise, looked at him in silence. In a + few seconds, however, the half-caste returned, with a gloomy and savage + mien: “Take care, brother; do not force me to prove to you that I + have told the truth.” + </p> + <p> + “Come, come, sir; you must be fresh from the Antipodes, to believe + us Frenchmen such easy dupes. You have, you say, the prudence of a + serpent, and the courage of a lion. I do not know if you are a courageous + lion, but you are certainly not a prudent serpent. What! you have about + you a letter from M. Van Dael, by which I might be compromised—supposing + all this not to be a fable—you have left Prince Djalma in a stupor, + which would serve my projects, and from which you alone can rouse him—you + are able, you say, to strike a terrible blow at my interests—and yet + you do not consider (bold lion! crafty serpent as you are!) that I only + want to gain twenty-four hours upon you. Now, you come from the end of + India to Paris, an unknown stranger—you believe me to be as great a + scoundrel as yourself,—since you call me brother—and do not + once consider, that you are here in my power—that this street and + house are solitary, and that I could have three or four persons to bind + you in a second, savage Strangler though you are!—and that just by + pulling this bell-rope,” said Rodin, as he took it in his hand. + “Do not be alarmed,” added he, with a diabolical smile, as he + saw Faringhea make an abrupt movement of surprise and fright; “would + I give you notice, if I meant to act in this manner?—But just answer + me. Once bound and put in confinement for twenty-four hours, how could you + injure me? Would it not be easy for me to possess myself of Van Dael’s + letter, and Djalma’s medal? and the latter, plunged in a stupor till + to-morrow evening, need not trouble me at all. You see, therefore, that + your threats are vain because they rest upon falsehood—because it is + not true, that Prince Djalma is here and in your power. Begone, sir—leave + the house; and when next you wish to make dupes, show more judgment in the + selection.” + </p> + <p> + Faringhea seemed struck with astonishment. All that he had just heard + seemed very probable. Rodin might seize upon him, the letter, and the + medal, and, by keeping him prisoner, prevent Djalma from being awakened. + And yet Rodin ordered him to leave the house, at the moment when Faringhea + had imagined himself so formidable. As he thought for the motives of this + inexplicable conduct, it struck him that Rodin, notwithstanding the proofs + he had brought him, did not yet believe that Djalma was in his power. On + that theory, the contempt of Van Dael’s correspondent admitted of a + natural explanation. But Rodin was playing a bold and skillful game; and, + while he appeared to mutter to himself, as in anger, he was observing, + with intense anxiety, the Strangler’s countenance. + </p> + <p> + The latter, almost certain that he had divined the secret motive of Rodin, + replied: “I am going—but one word more. You think I deceive + you?” + </p> + <p> + “I am certain of it. You have told me nothing but a tissue of + fables, and I have lost much time in listening to them. Spare me the rest; + it is late—and I should like to be alone.” + </p> + <p> + “One minute more: you are a man, I see, from whom nothing should be + hid,” said Faringhea, “from Djalma, I could now only expect + alms and disdain—for, with a character like this, to say to him, + ‘Pay me, because I might have betrayed you and did not,’ would + be to provoke his anger and contempt. I could have killed him twenty times + over, but his day is not yet come,” said the Thug, with a gloomy + air; “and to wait for that and other fatal days, I must have gold, + much gold. You alone can pay me for the betrayal of Djalma, for you alone + profit by it. You refuse to hear me, because you think I am deceiving you. + But I took the direction of the inn where we stopped—and here it is. + Send some one to ascertain the truth of what I tell you, and then you will + believe me. But the price of my services will be high; for I told you that + I wanted much.” + </p> + <p> + So saying, Faringhea offered a printed card to Rodin: the socius, who, out + of the corner of his eye, followed all the half-caste’s movements, + appeared to be absorbed in thought, and taking no heed of anything. + </p> + <p> + “Here is the address,” repeated Faringhea, as he held out the + card to Rodin; “assure yourself that I do not lie.” + </p> + <p> + “Eh? what is it?” said the other, casting a rapid but stolen + glance at the address, which he read greedily, without touching the card. + </p> + <p> + “Take this address,” repeated the half-caste, “and you + may then assure yourself—” + </p> + <p> + “Really, sir,” cried Rodin, pushing back the card with his + hand, “your impudence confounds me. I repeat that I wish to have + nothing in common with you. For the last time, I tell you to leave the + house. I know nothing about your Prince Djalma. You say you can injure me—do + so—make no ceremonies—but, in heaven’s name, leave me to + myself.” + </p> + <p> + So saying, Rodin rang the bell violently. Faringhea made a movement as if + to stand upon the defensive; but only the old servant, with his quiet and + placid mien, appeared at the door. + </p> + <p> + “Lapierre, light the gentleman out,” said Rodin, pointing to + Faringhea. + </p> + <p> + Terrified at Rodin’s calmness, the half-caste hesitated to leave the + room. + </p> + <p> + “Why do you wait, sir?” said Rodin, remarking his hesitation. + “I wish to be alone.” + </p> + <p> + “So, sir,” said Faringhea, as he withdrew, slowly, “you + refuse my offers? Take care! to-morrow it will be too late.” + </p> + <p> + “I have the honor to be your most humble servant, sir,” said + Rodin, bowing courteously. The Strangler went out, and the door closed + upon him. + </p> + <p> + Immediately, Father d’Aigrigny entered from the next room. His + countenance was pale and agitated. + </p> + <p> + “What have you done?” exclaimed he addressing Rodin. + </p> + <p> + “I have heard all. I am unfortunately too sure that this wretch + spoke the truth. The Indian is in his power, and he goes to rejoin him.” + </p> + <p> + “I think not,” said Rodin, humbly, as bowing, he reassumed his + dull and submissive countenance. + </p> + <p> + “What will prevent this man from rejoining the prince?” + </p> + <p> + “Allow me. As soon as the rascal was shown in, I knew him; and so, + before speaking a word to him, I wrote a few lines to Morok, who was + waiting below with Goliath till your reverence should be at leisure. + Afterwards, in the course of the conversation, when they brought me Morok’s + answer, I added some fresh instructions, seeing the turn that affairs were + taking.” + </p> + <p> + “And what was the use of all this, since you have let the man leave + the house?” + </p> + <p> + “Your reverence will perhaps deign to observe that he did not leave + it; till he had given me the direction of the hotel where the Indian now + is, thanks to my innocent stratagem of appearing to despise him. But, if + it had failed, Faringhea would still have fallen into the hands of Goliath + and Morok, who are waiting for him in the street, a few steps from the + door. Only we should have been rather embarrassed, as we should not have + known where to find Prince Djalma.” + </p> + <p> + “More violence!” said Father d’Aigrigny, with + repugnance. + </p> + <p> + “It is to be regretted, very much regretted,” replied Rodin; + “but it was necessary to follow out the system already adopted.” + </p> + <p> + “Is that meant for a reproach?” said Father d’Aigrigny, + who began to think that Rodin was something more than a mere + writing-machine. + </p> + <p> + “I could not permit myself to blame your reverence,” said + Rodin, cringing almost to the ground. “But all that will be required + is to confine this man for twenty-four hours.” + </p> + <p> + “And afterwards—his complaints?” + </p> + <p> + “Such a scoundrel as he is will not dare to complain. Besides, he + left this house in freedom. Morok and Goliath will bandage his eyes when + they seize him. The house has another entrance in the Rue + Vieille-des-Ursins. At this hour, and in such a storm, no one will be + passing through this deserted quarter of the town. The knave will be + confused by the change of place; they will put him into a cellar, of the + new building, and to morrow night, about the same hour, they will restore + him to liberty with the like precautions. As for the East Indian, we now + know where to find him; we must send to him a confidential person, and, if + he recovers from his trance, there would be, in my humble opinion,” + said Rodin, modestly, “a very simple and quiet manner of keeping him + away from the Rue Saint Francois all day to-morrow.” + </p> + <p> + The same servant with the mild countenance, who had introduced and shown + out Faringhea, here entered the room, after knocking discreetly at the + door. He held in his hand a sort of game-bag, which he gave to Rodin, + saying: “Here is what M. Morok has just brought; he came in by the + Rue Vieille.” + </p> + <p> + The servant withdrew, and Rodin, opening the bag, said to Father d’Aigrigny, + as he showed him the contents: “The medal, and Van Dael’s + letter. Morok has been quick at his work.” + </p> + <p> + “One more danger avoided,” said the marquis; “it is a + pity to be forced to such measures.” + </p> + <p> + “We must only blame the rascal who has obliged us to have recourse + to them. I will send instantly to the hotel where the Indian lodges.” + </p> + <p> + “And, at seven in the morning, you will conduct Gabriel to the Rue + Saint Francois. It is there that I must have with him the interview which + he has so earnestly demanded these three days.” + </p> + <p> + “I informed him of it this evening, and he awaits your orders.” + </p> + <p> + “At last, then,” said Father d’Aigrigny, “after so + many struggles, and fears, and crosses, only a few hours separate us from + the moment which we have so long desired.” + </p> + <p> + We now conduct the reader to the house in the Rue Saint-Francois. + </p> + <p> + (13) The doctrine of passive and absolute obedience, the principal tool in + the hands of the Jesuits, as summed up in these terrible words of the + dying Loyola—that every member of the order should be in the hands + of his superiors as a dead body—‘perinde ad cadaver’. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0070" id="link2HCH0070"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XVII. THE HOUSE IN THE RUE SAINT-FRANCOIS. + </h2> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">O</span>n entering the Rue + Saint-Gervais, by the Rue Dore (in the Marais), you would have found + yourself, at the epoch of this narrative, directly opposite to an + enormously high wall, the stones of which were black and worm-eaten with + age. This wall, which extended nearly the whole length of that solitary + street, served to support a terrace shaded by trees of some hundred years + old, which thus grew about forty feet above the causeway. Through their + thick branches appeared the stone front, peaked roof and tall brick + chimneys of an antique house, the entrance of which was situated in the + Rue Saint-Francois, not far from the Rue Saint Gervais corner. Nothing + could be more gloomy than the exterior of this abode. On the entrance-side + also was a very high wall, pierced with two or three loop-holes, strongly + grated. A carriage gateway in massive oak, barred with iron, and studded + with large nail-heads, whose primitive color disappeared beneath a thick + layer of mud, dust, and rust, fitted close into the arch of a deep recess, + forming the swell of a bay window above. In one of these massive gates was + a smaller door, which served for ingress and egress to Samuel the Jew, the + guardian of this dreary abode. On passing the threshold, you came to a + passage, formed in the building which faced in the street. In this + building was the lodging of Samuel, with its windows opening upon the + rather spacious inner court yard, through the railing of which you + perceived the garden. In the middle of this garden stood a two-storied + stone house, so strangely built, that you had to mount a flight of steps, + or rather a double-flight of at least twenty steps, to reach the door, + which had been walled up a hundred and fifty years before. The + window-blinds of this habitation had been replaced by large thick plates + of lead, hermetically soldered and kept in by frames of iron clamped in + the stone. Moreover, completely to intercept air and light, and thus to + guard against decay within and without, the roof had been covered with + thick sheets of lead, as well as the vents of the tall chimneys, which had + previously been bricked up. The same precautions had been taken with + respect to a small square belvedere, situated on the top of the house; + this glass cage was covered with a sort of dome, soldered to the roof. + Only, in consequence of some singular fancy, in every one of the leaden + plates, which concealed the four sides of the belvedere, corresponding to + the cardinal points, seven little round holes had been bored in the form + of a cross, and were easily distinguishable from the outside. Everywhere + else the plates of lead were completely unpierced. Thanks to these + precautions, and to the substantial structure of the building, nothing but + a few outward repairs had been necessary; and the apartments, entirely + removed from the influence of the external air, no doubt remained, during + a century and a half, exactly in the same state as at the time of their + being shut up. The aspect of walls in crevices, of broken, worm-eaten + shutters, of a roof half fallen in, and windows covered with wall-flowers, + would perhaps have been less sad than the appearance of this stone house, + plated with iron and lead, and preserved like a mausoleum. The garden, + completely deserted, and only regularly visited once a week by Samuel, + presented to the view, particularly in summer, an incredible confusion of + parasites and brambles. The trees, left to themselves, had shot forth and + mingled their branches in all directions; some straggling vines, + reproduced from offshoots, had crept along the ground to the foot of the + trees, and, climbing up their trunks, had twined themselves about them, + and encircled their highest branches with their inextricable net. You + could only pass through this virgin forest by following the path made by + the guardian, to go from the grating to the house, the approaches to which + were a little sloped to let the water run off, and carefully paved to the + width of about ten feet. Another narrow path which extended all around the + enclosure, was every night perambulated by two or three Pyrenees dogs—a + faithful race, which had been perpetuated in the house during a century + and a half. Such was the habitation destined for the meeting of the + descendants of the family of Rennepont. The night which separated the 12th + from the 13th day of February was near its close. A calm had succeeded the + storm, and the rain had ceased; the sky was clear and full of stars; the + moon, on its decline, shone with a mild lustre, and threw a melancholy + light over that deserted, silent house, whose threshold for so many years + no human footstep had crossed. + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:65%;"> + <img src="images/20177m.jpg" alt="20177m” width=" /><br /> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/20177.jpg"><i>Original</i></a> + </h5> + <p> + A bright gleam of light, issuing from one of the windows of the guardian’s + dwelling, announced that Samuel was awake. Figure to yourself a tolerably + large room, lined from top to bottom with old walnut wainscoting browned + to an almost black, with age. Two half-extinguished brands are smoking + amid the cinders on the hearth. On the stone mantelpiece, painted to + resemble gray granite, stands an old iron candlestick, furnished with a + meagre candle, capped by an extinguisher. Near it one sees a pair of + double-barrelled pistols, and a sharp cutlass, with a hilt of carved + bronze, belonging to the seventeenth century. Moreover, a heavy rifle + rests against one of the chimney jambs. Four stools, an old oak press, and + a square table with twisted legs, formed the sole furniture of this + apartment. Against the wall were systematically suspended a number of keys + of different sizes, the shape of which bore evidence to their antiquity, + whilst to their rings were affixed divers labels. The back of the old + press, which moved by a secret spring, had been pushed aside, and + discovered, built in the wall, a large and deep iron chest, the lid of + which, being open, displayed the wondrous mechanism of one of those + Florentine locks of the sixteenth century, which, better than any modern + invention, set all picklocks at defiance; and, moreover, according to the + notions of that age, are supplied with a thick lining of asbestos cloth, + suspended by gold wire at a distance from the sides of the chest, for the + purpose of rendering incombustible the articles contained in it. A large + cedar-wood box had been taken from the chest, and placed upon a stool; it + contained numerous papers, carefully arranged and docketed. By the light + of a brass lamp, the old keeper Samuel, was writing in a small register, + whilst Bathsheba, his wife, was dictating to him from an account. Samuel + was about eighty two years old, and, notwithstanding his advanced age, a + mass of gray curling hair covered his head. He was short, thin, nervous, + and the involuntary petulance of his movements proved that years had not + weakened his energy and activity; though, out of doors, where, however, he + made his appearance very seldom, he affected a sort of second childhood, + as had been remarked by Rodin to Father d’Aigrigny. An old + dressing-gown, of maroon-colored camlet, with large sleeves, completely + enveloped the old man, and reached to his feet. + </p> + <p> + Samuel’s features were cast in the pure, Eastern mould of his race. + His complexion was of a dead yellow, his nose aquiline, his chin shaded by + a little tuft of white beard, while projecting cheek-bones threw a harsh + shadow upon the hollow and wrinkled cheeks. His countenance was full of + intelligence, fine sharpness, and sagacity. On his broad, high forehead + one might read frankness, honesty, and firmness; his eyes, black and + brilliant as an Arab’s, were at once mild and piercing. + </p> + <p> + His wife, Bathsheba, some fifteen years younger than himself, was of tall + stature, and dressed entirely in black. A low cap, of starched lawn, which + reminded one of the grave head-dresses of Dutch matrons, encircled a pale + and austere countenance, formerly of a rare and haughty beauty, and + impressed with the Scriptural character. Some lines in the forehead, + caused by the almost continual knitting of her gray brows, showed that + this woman had often suffered from the pressure of intense grief. + </p> + <p> + At this very moment her countenance betrayed inexpressible sorrow. Her + look was fixed, her head resting on her bosom. She had let her right hand, + which held a small account-book, fall upon her lap, while the other hand + grasped convulsively a long tress of jet-black hair, which she bore about + her neck. It was fastened by a golden clasp, about an inch square, in + which, under a plate of crystal, that shut in one side of it like a + relic-case, could be seen a piece of linen, folded square, and almost + entirely covered with dark red spots that resembled blood a long time + dried. + </p> + <p> + After a short silence, during which Samuel was occupied with his register, + he read aloud what he had just been writing: “Per contra, 5,000 + Austrian Metallics of 1,000 florins, under date of October 19th, 1826.” + </p> + <p> + After which enumeration, Samuel raised his head, and said to his wife: + “Well, is it right, Bathsheba? Have you compared it with the account + book?” + </p> + <p> + Bathsheba did not answer. Samuel looked at her, and, seeing that she was + absorbed in grief, said to her, with an expression of tender anxiety: + “What is the matter? Good heaven! what is the matter with you?” + </p> + <p> + “The 19th of October, 1826,” said she, slowly, with her eyes + still fixed, and pressing yet more closely the lock of black hair which + she wore about her neck; “It was a fatal day—for, Samuel, it + was the date of the last letter which we received from—” + </p> + <p> + Bathsheba was unable to proceed. She uttered a long sigh, and concealed + her face in her hands. + </p> + <p> + “Oh! I understand you,” observed the old man, in a tremulous + voice; “a father may be taken up by the thought of other cares; but + the heart of a mother is ever wakeful.” Throwing his pen down upon + the table, Samuel leaned his forehead upon his hands in sorrow. + </p> + <p> + Bathsheba resumed, as if she found a melancholy pleasure in these cruel + remembrances: “Yes; that was the last day on which our son, Abel, + wrote to us from Germany, to announce to us that he had invested the funds + according to your desire and was going thence into Poland, to effect + another operation.” + </p> + <p> + “And in Poland he met the death of a martyr,” added Samuel. + “With no motive and no proof, they accused him falsely of coming to + organize smuggling, and the Russian governor, treating him as they treat + our brothers in that land of cruel tyranny, condemned him to the dreadful + punishment of the knout, without even hearing him in his defence. Why + should they hear a Jew? What is a Jew? A creature below a serf, whom they + reproach for all the vices that a degrading slavery has engendered. A Jew + beaten to death? Who would trouble themselves about it?” + </p> + <p> + “And poor Abel, so good, so faithful, died beneath their stripes, + partly from shame, partly from the wounds,” said Bathsheba, + shuddering. “One of our Polish brethren obtained with great + difficulty permission to bury him. He cut off this lock of beautiful black + hair—which, with this scrap of linen, bathed in the blood of our + dear son, is all that now remains to us of him.” Bathsheba covered + the hair and clasp with convulsive kisses. + </p> + <p> + “Alas!” said Samuel, drying his tears, which had burst forth + at these sad recollections, “the Lord did not at last remove our + child, until the task which our family has accomplished faithfully for a + century and a half was nearly at an end. Of what use will our race be + henceforth upon earth?” added Samuel, most bitterly. “Our duty + is performed. This casket contains a royal fortune—and yonder house, + walled up for a hundred and fifty years, will be opened to-morrow to the + descendants of my ancestor’s benefactor.” So saying, Samuel + turned his face sorrowfully towards the house, which he could see through + the window. The dawn was just about to appear. The moon had set; + belvedere, roof, and chimneys formed a black mass upon the dark blue of + the starry firmament. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly, Samuel grew pale, and, rising abruptly, said to his wife in a + tremulous tone, whilst he still pointed to the house: “Bathsheba! + the seven points of light—just as it was thirty years ago. Look! + look:” + </p> + <p> + Indeed, the seven round holes, bored in the form of a cross in the leaden + plates which covered the window of the belvedere, sparkled like so many + luminous points, as if some one in the house ascended with a light to the + roof. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0071" id="link2HCH0071"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XVIII. DEBIT AND CREDIT. + </h2> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">F</span>or some seconds, + Samuel and Bathsheba remained motionless, with their eyes fixed in fear + and uneasiness on the seven luminous points, which shone through the + darkness of the night from the summit of the belvedere; while, on the + horizon, behind the house, a pale, rosy hue announced the dawn of day. + </p> + <p> + Samuel was the first to break silence, and he said to his wife, as he drew + his hand across his brow: “The grief caused by the remembrance of + our poor child has prevented us from reflecting that, after all, there + should be nothing to alarm us in what we see.” + </p> + <p> + “How so, Samuel?” + </p> + <p> + “My father always told me that he, and my grandfather before him, + had seen such lights at long intervals.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Samuel—but without being able, any more than ourselves, + to explain the cause.” + </p> + <p> + “Like my father and grandfather, we can only suppose that some + secret passage gives admittance to persons who, like us, have some + mysterious duty to fulfil in this dwelling. Besides, my father warned me + not to be uneasy at these appearances, foretold by him, and now visible + for the second time in thirty years.” + </p> + <p> + “No matter for that, Samuel, it does strike one as if it was + something supernatural.” + </p> + <p> + “The days of miracles are over.” said the Jew, shaking his + head sorrowfully: “many of the old houses in this quarter have + subterraneous communications with distant places—some extending even + to the Seine and the Catacombs. Doubtless, this house is so situated, and + the persons who make these rare visits enter by some such means.” + </p> + <p> + “But that the belvedere should be thus lighted up?” + </p> + <p> + “According to the plan of the building, you know that the belvedere + forms a kind of skylight to the apartment called the Great Hall of + Mourning, situated on the upper story. As it is completely dark, in + consequence of the closing of all the windows, they must use a light to + visit this Hall of Mourning—a room which is said to contain some + very strange and gloomy things,” added the Jew, with a shudder. + </p> + <p> + Bathsheba, as well as her husband, gazed attentively on the seven luminous + points, which diminished in brightness as the daylight gradually + increased. + </p> + <p> + “As you say, Samuel, the mystery may be thus explained,” + resumed the Hebrew’s wife. “Besides, the day is so important a + one for the family of Rennepont, that this apparition: ought not to + astonish us under the circumstances.” + </p> + <p> + “Only to think,” remarked Samuel, “that these lights + have appeared at several different times throughout a century and a half! + There must, therefore, be another family that, like ours, has devoted + itself, from generation to generation, to accomplish a pious duty.” + </p> + <p> + “But what is this duty? It will perhaps be explained today.” + </p> + <p> + “Come, come, Bathsheba,” suddenly exclaimed Samuel, as if + roused from his reverie, and reproaching himself with idleness; this is + the day, and, before eight o’clock, our cash account must be in + order, and these titles to immense property arranged, so that they may be + delivered to the rightful owners”—and he pointed to the + cedar-wood box. + </p> + <p> + “You are right, Samuel; this day does not belong to us. It is a + solemn day—one that would have been sweet, oh! very sweet to you and + me—if now any days could be sweet to us,” said Bathsheba + bitterly, for she was thinking of her son. + </p> + <p> + “Bathsheba,” said Samuel, mournfully, as he laid his hand on + his wife’s; “we shall at least have the stern satisfaction of + having done our duty. And has not the Lord been very favorable to us, + though He has thus severely tried us by the death of our son? Is it not + thanks to His providence that three generations of my family have been + able to commence, continue, and finish this great work?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Samuel,” said the Jewess, affectionately, “and for + you at least this satisfaction will be combined with calm and quietness, + for on the stroke of noon you will be delivered from a very terrible + responsibility.” + </p> + <p> + So saying, Bathsheba pointed to the box. + </p> + <p> + “It is true,” replied the old man; “I had rather these + immense riches were in the hands of those to whom they belong, than in + mine; but, to day, I shall cease to be their trustee. Once more then, I + will check the account for the last time, and compare the register with + the cash-book that you hold in your hand.” + </p> + <p> + Bathsheba bowed her head affirmatively, and Samuel, taking up his pen, + occupied himself once more with his calculations. His wife, in spite of + herself, again yielded to the sad thoughts which that fatal date had + awakened, by reminding her of the death of her son. + </p> + <p> + Let us now trace rapidly the history, in appearance so romantic and + marvellous, in reality so simple, of the fifty thousand crowns, which, + thanks to the law of accumulation, and to a prudent, intelligent and + faithful investment, had naturally, and necessarily, been transformed, in + the space of a century and a half, into a sum far more important than the + forty millions estimated by Father d’Aigrigny—who, partially + informed on this subject, and reckoning the disastrous accidents, losses, + and bankruptcies which might have occurred during so long a period, + believed that forty millions might well b e considered enormous. + </p> + <p> + The history of this fortune being closely connected with that of the + Samuel family, by whom it had been managed for three generations, we shall + give it again in a few words. + </p> + <p> + About the period 1670, some years before his death, Marius de Rennepont, + then travelling in Portugal, had been enabled, by means of powerful + interest, to save the life of an unfortunate Jew, condemned to be burnt + alive by the Inquisition, because of his religion. This Jew was Isaac + Samuel, grandfather of the present guardian of the house in the Rue + Saint-Francois. + </p> + <p> + Generous men often attach themselves to those they have served, as much, + at least, as the obliged parties are attached to their benefactors. Having + ascertained that Isaac, who at that time carried on a petty broker’s + business at Lisbon, was industrious, honest, active, laborious, and + intelligent, M. de Rennepont, who then possessed large property in France, + proposed to the Jew to accompany him, and undertake the management of his + affairs. The same hatred and suspicion with which the Israelites have + always been followed, was then at its height. Isaac was therefore doubly + grateful for this mark of confidence on the part of M. de Rennepont. He + accepted the offer, and promised from that day to devote his existence to + the service of him who had first saved his life, and then trusted + implicitly to his good faith and uprightness, although he was a Jew, and + belonged to a race generally suspected and despised. M. de Rennepont, a + man of great soul, endowed with a good spirit, was not deceived in his + choice. Until he was deprived of his fortune, it prospered wonderfully in + the hands of Isaac Samuel, who, gifted with an admirable aptitude for + business, applied himself exclusively to advance the interests of his + benefactor. + </p> + <p> + Then came the persecution and ruin of M. de Rennepont, whose property was + confiscated and given up to the reverend fathers of the Company of Jesus + only a few days before his death. Concealed in the retreat he had chosen, + therein to put a violent end to his life, he sent secretly for Isaac + Samuel, and delivered to him fifty thousand crowns in gold, the last + remains of his fortune. This faithful servant was to invest the money to + the best advantage, and, if he should have a son, transmit to him the same + obligation; or, should he have no child, he was to seek out some relation + worthy of continuing this trust, to which would moreover be annexed a fair + reward. It was thus to be transmitted and perpetuated from relative to + relative, until the expiration of a century and a half. M. de Rennepont + also begged Isaac to take charge, during his life, of the house in the Rue + Saint-Francois, where he would be lodged gratis, and to leave this + function likewise to his descendants, if it were possible. + </p> + <p> + If even Isaac Samuel had not had children, the powerful bond of union + which exists between certain Jewish families, would have rendered + practicable the last will of De Rennepont. The relations of Isaac would + have become partner; in his gratitude to his benefactor, and they, and + their succeeding generations, would have religiously accomplished the task + imposed upon one of their race. But, several years after the death of De + Rennepont, Isaac had a son. + </p> + <p> + This son, Levy Samuel, born in 1689, not having had any children by his + first wife, married again at nearly sixty years of age, and, in 1750, he + also had a son—David Samuel, the guardian of the house in the Rue + Saint Francois, who, in 1832 (the date of this narrative), was eighty-two + years old, and seemed likely to live as long as his father, who had died + at the age of ninety-three. Finally, Abel Samuel, the son whom Bathsheba + so bitterly regretted, born in 1790, had perished under the Russian knout, + at the age of thirty-six. + </p> + <p> + Having established this humble genealogy, we easily understand how this + successive longevity of three members of the Samuel family, all of whom + had been guardians of the walled house, by uniting, as it were, the + nineteenth with the seventeenth century, simplified and facilitated the + execution of M. de Rennepont’s will; the latter having declared his + desire to the grandfather of the Samuels, that the capital should only be + augmented by interest at five per cent.—so that the fortune might + come to his descendants free from all taint of usurious speculation. + </p> + <p> + The fellow men of the Samuel family, the first inventors of the bill of + exchange, which served them in the Middle Ages to transport mysteriously + considerable amounts from one end of the world to the other, to conceal + their fortune, and to shield it from the rapacity of their enemies—the + Jews, we say, having almost the monopoly of the trade in money and + exchanges, until the end of the eighteenth century, aided the secret + transactions and financial operations of this family, which, up to about + 1820, placed their different securities, which had become progressively + immense, in the hands of the principal Israelitish bankers and merchants + of Europe. This sure and secret manner of acting had enabled the present + guardian of the house in the Rue Saint-Francois, to effect enormous + investments, unknown to all; and it was more especially during the period + of his management, that the capital sum had acquired, by the mere fact of + compound interest, an almost incalculable development. Compared with him, + his father and grandfather had only small amounts to manage. Though it had + only been necessary to find successively sure and immediate investments, + so that the money might not remain as it were one day without bearing + interest, it had acquired financial capacity to attain this result, when + so many millions were in question. The last of the Samuels, brought up in + the school of his father, had exhibited this capacity in a very high + degree, as will be seen immediately by the results. Nothing could be more + touching, noble, and respectable, than the conduct of the members of this + Jewish family, who, partners in the engagement of gratitude taken by their + ancestor, devote themselves for long years, with as much disinterestedness + as intelligence and honesty, to the slow acquisition of a kingly fortune, + of which they expect no part themselves, but which, thanks to them, would + come pure, as immense, to the hands of the descendants of their + benefactor! Nor could anything be more honorable to him who made, and him + who received this deposit, than the simple promise by word of mouth, + unaccompanied by any security save mutual confidence and reciprocal + esteem, when the result was only to be produced at the end of a century + and a half! + </p> + <p> + After once more reading his inventory with attention, Samuel said to his + wife: “I am certain of the correctness of my additions. Now please + to compare with the account-book in your hand the summary of the + investments that I have just entered in the register. I will assure + myself, at the same time, that the bonds and vouchers are properly + arranged in this casket, that, on the opening of the will, they may be + delivered in order to the notary.” + </p> + <p> + “Begin, my dear, and I will check you,” said Bathsheba. + </p> + <p> + Samuel read as follows, examining as he went on, the contents of his + casket: + </p> + <p> + Statement of the account of the heirs of M. DE RENNEPONT, delivered by + DAVID SAMUELS. + </p> + <p> + DEBIT. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + 2,000,000 francs per annum, + in the French 5 P. C., + bought from 1825 to 1832, + at an average price of 99f. + 50c............ 39,800,000 + 900,000 francs, ditto, in + the French 3 P. C., + bought during the + same years, at an average + of 74f 25c........ 22,275,000 + 5;000 shares in the Bank + of France, bought at 1,900 9,500,000 + 3,000 shares in the Four + Canals, in a certificate + from the Company, + bought at 1,115f..... 3,345,000 + 125,000 ducats of + Neapolitans, at an average + of 82. 2,050,000 ducats, + at 4f. 400....... 9,020,000 + 5,000 Austrian Metallics, + of 1,000 florins, at 93 + —say 4,650,000 florins, + at 2f. 50c........ 11,625,000 + 75,000 pounds sterling + per annum, English + Consolidated 3 P. C., + at 88 3/4—say 2,218,750, + at 25f......... 55,468,750 + 1,200,000 florins, Dutch + 2 1/2 P. C., at 60-28, + 860,000 florins, at 2f. + 100........... 60,606,000 + Cash in banknotes, gold + and silver........ 535,250 + ——— + Francs 212,175,000 + + Paris, 12th February, 1832. + CREDIT. + + 150,000 francs + received from M. + de Rennepont, + in 1682, by Isaac + Samuel my grandfather; + and invested by him, + my father, and myself, + in different securities, + at Five per Cent. + Interest, with a + settlement of account + and Investment of + interest every six + months, producing, + as by annexed vouchers, 225,950,000 + + Less losses sustained + by failures, expenses of + commission and + brokerage, and + salary of three + generations of + trustees, as per + statement annexed 13,775,000 + ————— + 212,175,000 + + Francs 212,175,000 +</pre> + <p> + “It is quite right,” said Samuel, after examining the papers, + contained in the cedar-wood box. “There remains in hand, at the + absolute disposal of the heirs of the Rennepont family, the Sum Of TWO + HUNDRED AND TWELVE MILLIONS, ONE HUNDRED AND SEVENTY-FIVE THOUSAND FRANCS.” + And the old man looked at his wife with an expression of legitimate pride. + “It is hardly credible!” cried Bathsheba, struck with + surprise. “I knew that you had immense property in your hands; but I + could never have believed, that one hundred and fifty thousand francs, + left a century and a half ago, should be the only source of this immense + fortune.” + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:65%;"> + <img src="images/20187m.jpg" alt="20187m” width=" /><br /> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/20187.jpg"><i>Original</i></a> + </h5> + <p> + “It is even so, Bathsheba,” answered the old man, proudly. + “Doubtless, my grandfather, my father, and myself, have all been + exact and faithful in the management of these funds; doubtless, we have + required some sagacity in the choice of investments, in times of + revolution and commercial panics; but all this was easy to us, thanks to + our relations with our brethren in all countries—and never have I, + or any of mine, made an usurious investment, or even taken the full + advantage of the legal rate of interest. Such were the positive demands of + M. de Rennepont, given to my grandfather; nor is there in the world a + fortune that has been obtained by purer means. Had it not been for this + disinterestedness, we might have much augmented this two hundred and + twelve millions, only by taking advantage of a few favorable + circumstances.” + </p> + <p> + “Dear me! is it possible?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing is more simple, Bathsheba. Every one knows, that in + fourteen years a capital will be doubled, by the mere accumulation of + interest and compound interest at five per cent. Now reflect, that in a + century and a half there are ten times fourteen years, and that these one + hundred and fifty thousands francs have thus been doubled and redoubled, + over and over again. All that astonishes you will then appear plain + enough. In 1682, M. de Rennepont entrusted my grandfather with a hundred + and fifty thousand francs; this sum, invested as I have told you, would + have produced in 1696, fourteen years after, three hundred thousand + francs. These last, doubled in 1710, would produce six hundred thousand. + On the death of my grandfather in 1719, the amount was already near a + million; in 1724, it would be twelve hundred thousand francs; in 1738, two + millions four hundred thousand; in 1752, about two years after my birth, + four millions eight hundred thousand; in 1766, nine millions six hundred + thousand; in 1780, nineteen millions two hundred thousand; in 1794, twelve + years after the death of my father, thirty-eight millions four hundred + thousand; in 1808, seventy-six millions eight hundred thousand; in 1822, + one hundred and fifty-three millions six hundred thousand; and, at this + time, taking the compound interest for ten years, it should be at least + two hundred and twenty-five millions. But losses and inevitable charges, + of which the account has been strictly kept, have reduced the sum to two + hundred and twelve millions one hundred and seventy-five thousand francs, + the securities for which are in this box.” + </p> + <p> + “I now understand you, my dear,” answered Bathsheba, + thoughtfully; “but how wonderful is this power of accumulation! and + what admirable provision may be made for the future, with the smallest + present resources!” + </p> + <p> + “Such, no doubt, was the idea of M. de Rennepont; for my father has + often told me, and he derived it from his father, that M. de Rennepont was + one of the soundest intellects of his time,” said Samuel, as he + closed the cedar-box. + </p> + <p> + “God grant his descendants may be worthy of this kingly fortune, and + make a noble use of it!” said Bathsheba, rising. + </p> + <p> + It was now broad day, and the clock had just struck seven. + </p> + <p> + “The masons will soon be here,” said Samuel, as he replaced + the cedar-box in the iron safe, concealed behind the antique press. + “Like you, Bathsheba, I am curious and anxious to know, what + descendants of M. de Rennepont will now present themselves.” + </p> + <p> + Two or three loud knocks on the outer gate resounded through the house. + The barking of the watch-dogs responded to this summons. + </p> + <p> + Samuel said to his wife: “It is no doubt the masons, whom the notary + has sent with his clerk. Tie all the keys and their labels together; I + will come back and fetch them.” + </p> + <p> + So saying, Samuel went down to the door with much nimbleness, considering + his age, prudently opened a small wicket, and saw three workmen, in the + garb of masons, accompanied by a young man dressed in black. + </p> + <p> + “What may you want, gentlemen?” said the Jew, before opening + the door, as he wished first to make sure of the identity of the + personages. + </p> + <p> + “I am sent by M. Dumesnil, the notary,” answered the clerk, + “to be present at the unwalling of a door. Here is a letter from my + master, addressed to M. Samuel, guardian of the house.” + </p> + <p> + “I am he, sir,” said the Jew; “please to put the letter + through the slide, and I will take it.” + </p> + <p> + The clerk did as Samuel desired, but shrugged his shoulders at what he + considered the ridiculous precautions of a suspicious old man. The + housekeeper opened the box, took the letter, went to the end of the + vaulted passage in order to read it, and carefully compared the signature + with that of another letter which he drew from the pocket of his long + coat; then, after all these precautions, he chained up his dogs, and + returned to open the gate to the clerk and masons. + </p> + <p> + “What the devil, my good man!” said the clerk, as he entered; + “there would not be more formalities in opening the gates of a + fortress!” + </p> + <p> + The Jew bowed, but without answering. + </p> + <p> + “Are you deaf, my good fellow?” cried the clerk, close to his + ears. + </p> + <p> + “No, sir,” said Samuel, with a quiet smile, as he advanced + several steps beyond the passage. Then pointing to the old house, he + added: “That, sir, is the door which you will have to open; you will + also have to remove the lead and iron from the second window to the right.” + </p> + <p> + “Why not open all the windows?” asked the clerk. + </p> + <p> + “Because, sir, as guardian of this house, I have received particular + orders on the subject.” + </p> + <p> + “Who gave you these orders?” + </p> + <p> + “My father, sir, who received them from his father, who transmitted + them from the master of this house. When I cease to have the care of it, + the new proprietor will do as he pleases.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! very well,” said the clerk, not a little surprised. Then, + addressing himself to the masons, he added: “This is your business, + my fine fellows; you are to unwall the door, and remove the iron + frame-work of the second window to the right.” + </p> + <p> + Whilst the masons set to work, under the inspection of the notary’s + clerk, a coach stopped before the outer gate, and Rodin, accompanied by + Gabriel, entered the house in the Rue Saint-Francois. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0072" id="link2HCH0072"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIX. THE HEIR + </h2> + <h3> + Samuel opened the door to Gabriel and Rodin. + </h3> + <p> + The latter said to the Jew, “You, sir, are the keeper of this house?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir,” replied Samuel. + </p> + <p> + “This is Abbe Gabriel de Rennepont,” said Rodin, as he + introduced his companion, “one of the descendants of the family of + the Renneponts.” + </p> + <p> + “Happy to hear it, sir,” said the Jew, almost involuntarily, + struck with the angelic countenance of Gabriel—for nobleness and + serenity of soul were visible in the glance of the young priest, and were + written upon his pure, white brow, already crowned with the halo of + martyrdom. Samuel looked at Gabriel with curiosity and benevolent + interest; but feeling that this silent contemplation must cause some + embarrassment to his guest, he said to him, “M. Abbe, the notary + will not be here before ten o’clock.” + </p> + <p> + Gabriel looked at him in turn, with an air of surprise, and answered, + “What notary, sir?” + </p> + <p> + “Father d’Aigrigny will explain all this to you,” said + Rodin, hastily. Then addressing Samuel, he added, “We are a little + before the time. Will you allow us to wait for the arrival of the notary?” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly,” said Samuel, “if you please to walk into my + house.” + </p> + <p> + “I thank you, sir,” answered Rodin, “and accept your + offer.” + </p> + <p> + “Follow me, then, gentlemen,” said the old man. + </p> + <p> + A few moments after, the young priest and the socius, preceded by Samuel, + entered one of the rooms occupied by the latter, on the ground-floor of + the building, looking out upon the court-yard. + </p> + <p> + “The Abbe d’Aigrigny, who has been the guardian of M. Gabriel, + will soon be coming to ask for us,” added Rodin; “will you + have the kindness, sir to show him into this room?” + </p> + <p> + “I will not fail to do so, sir,” said Samuel, as he went out. + </p> + <p> + The socius and Gabriel were left alone. To the adorable gentleness which + usually gave to the fine features of the missionary so touching a charm, + there had succeeded in this moment a remarkable expression of sadness, + resolution, and severity. Rodin not having seen Gabriel for some days, was + greatly struck by the change he remarked in him. He had watched him + silently all the way from the Rue des Postes to the Rue Saint-Francois. + The young priest wore, as usual, a long black cassock, which made still + more visible the transparent paleness of his countenance. When the Jew had + left the room, Gabriel said to Rodin, in a firm voice, “Will you at + length inform me, sir, why, for some days past, I have been prevented from + speaking to his reverence Father d’Aigrigny? Why has he chosen this + house to grant me an interview?” + </p> + <p> + “It is impossible for me to answer these questions,” replied + Rodin, coldly. “His reverence will soon arrive, and will listen to + you. All I can tell you is, that the reverend father lays as much stress + upon this meeting as you do. If he has chosen this house for the + interview, it is because you have an interest to be here. You know it well—though + you affected astonishment on hearing the guardian speak of a notary.” + </p> + <p> + So saying, Rodin fixed a scrutinizing, anxious look upon Gabriel, whose + countenance expressed only surprise. + </p> + <p> + “I do not understand you,” said he, in reply to Rodin. “What + have I to do with this house?” + </p> + <p> + “It is impossible that you should not know it,” answered + Rodin, still looking at him with attention. + </p> + <p> + “I have told you, sir, that I do not know it,” replied the + other, almost offended by the pertinacity of the socius. + </p> + <p> + “What, then, did your adopted mother come to tell you yesterday? Why + did you presume to receive her without permission from Father d’Aigrigny, + as I have heard this morning? Did she not speak with you of certain family + papers, found upon you when she took you in?” + </p> + <p> + “No, sir,” said Gabriel; “those papers were delivered at + the time to my adopted mother’s confessor, and they afterwards + passed into Father d’Aigrigny’s hands. This is the first I + hear for a long time of these papers.” + </p> + <p> + “So you affirm that Frances Baudoin did not come to speak to you on + this subject?” resumed Rodin, obstinately, laying great emphasis on + his words. + </p> + <p> + “This is the second time, sir, that you seem to doubt my + affirmation,” said the young priest, mildly, while he repressed a + movement of impatience, “I assure you that I speak the truth.” + </p> + <p> + “He knows nothing,” thought Rodin; for he was too well + convinced of Gabriel’s sincerity to retain the least doubt after so + positive a declaration. “I believe you,” went on he. “The + idea only occurred to me in reflecting what could be the reason of + sufficient weight to induce you to transgress Father d’Aigrigny’s + orders with regard to the absolute retirement he had commanded, which was + to exclude all communication with those without. Much more, contrary to + all the rules of our house, you ventured to shut the door of your room, + whereas it ought to remain half open, that the mutual inspection enjoined + us might be the more easily practiced. I could only explain these sins + against discipline, by the necessity of some very important conversation + with your adopted mother.” + </p> + <p> + “It was to a priest, and not to her adopted son, that Madame Baudoin + wished to speak,” replied Gabriel, in a tone of deep seriousness. + “I closed my door because I was to hear a confession.” + </p> + <p> + “And what had Frances Baudoin of such importance to confess?” + </p> + <p> + “You will know that by-and-bye, when I speak to his reverence—if + it be his pleasure that you should hear me.” + </p> + <p> + These words were so firmly spoken, that a long silence ensued. Let us + remind the reader that Gabriel had hitherto been kept by his superiors in + the most complete ignorance of the importance of the family interests + which required his presence in the Rue Saint-Francois. The day before, + Frances Baudoin, absorbed in her own grief, had forgotten to tell him that + the two orphans also should be present at this meeting, and had she even + thought of it, Dagobert would have prevented her mentioning this + circumstance to the young priest. + </p> + <p> + Gabriel was therefore quite ignorant of the family ties which united him + with the daughters of Marshal Simon, with Mdlle. de Cardoville, with M. + Hardy, Prince Djalma, and Sleepinbuff. In a word, if it had then been + revealed to him that he was the heir of Marius de Rennepont, he would have + believed himself the only descendant of the family. During the moment’s + silence which succeeded his conversation with Rodin, Gabriel observed + through the windows the mason’s at their work of unwalling the door. + Having finished this first operation, they set about removing the bars of + iron by which a plate of lead was fixed over the same entrance. + </p> + <p> + At this juncture, Father d’Aigrigny, conducted by Samuel, entered + the room. Before Gabriel could turn around, Rodin had time to whisper to + the reverend father, “He knows nothing—and we have no longer + anything to fear from the Indian.” + </p> + <p> + Notwithstanding his affected calmness, Father d’Aigrigny’s + countenance was pale and contracted, like that of a player who is about to + stake all on a last, decisive game. Hitherto, all had favored the designs + of the Society; but he could not think without alarm of the four hours + which still remained before they should reach the fatal moment. Gabriel + having turned towards him, Father d’Aigrigny offered him his hand + with a smile, and said to him in an affectionate and cordial tone, “My + dear son, it has pained me a good deal to have been obliged to refuse you + till now the interview that you so much desired. It has been no less + distressing to me to impose on you a confinement of some days. Though I + cannot give any explanation of what I may think fit to order, I will just + observe to you that I have acted only for your interest.” + </p> + <p> + “I am bound to believe your reverence,” answered Gabriel, + bowing his head. + </p> + <p> + In spite of himself, the young priest felt a vague sense of fear, for + until his departure for his American mission, Father d’Aigrigny, at + whose feet he had pronounced the formidable vows which bound him + irrevocably to the Society of Jesus, had exercised over him that frightful + species of influence which, acting only by despotism, suppression, and + intimidation, breaks down all the living forces of the soul, and leaves it + inert, trembling, and terrified. Impressions of early youth are indelible, + and this was the first time, since his return from America, that Gabriel + found himself in presence of Father d’Aigrigny; and although he did + not shrink from the resolution he had taken, he regretted not to have been + able, as he had hoped, to gather new strength and courage from an + interview with Agricola and Dagobert. Father d’Aigrigny knew mankind + too well not to have remarked the emotion of the young priest, and to have + endeavored to explain its cause. This emotion appeared to him a favorable + omen; he redoubled, therefore, his seductive arts, his air of tenderness + and amenity, reserving to himself, if necessary, the choice of assuming + another mask. He sat down, while Gabriel and Rodin remained standing in a + respectful position, and said to the former: “You desire, my dear + son, to have an important interview with me?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, father,” said Gabriel, involuntarily casting down his + eyes before the large, glittering gray pupil of his superior. + </p> + <p> + “And I also have matters of great importance to communicate to you. + Listen to me first; you can speak afterwards.” + </p> + <p> + “I listen, father.” + </p> + <p> + “It is about twelve years ago, my dear son,” said Father d’Aigrigny, + affectionately, “that the confessor of your adopted mother, + addressing himself to me through M. Rodin, called my attention to + yourself, by reporting the astonishing progress you had made at the school + of the Brothers. I soon found, indeed, that your excellent conduct, your + gentle, modest character, and your precocious intelligence, were worthy of + the most tender interest. From that moment I kept my eyes upon you, and at + the end of some time, seeing that you did not fall off, it appeared to me + that there was something more in you than the stuff that makes a workman. + We agreed with your adopted mother, and through my intervention, you were + admitted gratuitously to one of the schools of our Company. Thus one + burden the less weighed upon the excellent woman who had taken charge of + you, and you received from our paternal care all the benefits of a + religious education. Is not this true, my dear son?” + </p> + <p> + “It is true, father,” answered Gabriel, casting down his eyes. + </p> + <p> + “As you grew up, excellent and rare virtues displayed themselves in + your character. Your obedience and mildness were above all exemplary. You + made rapid progress in your studies. I knew not then to what career you + wished to devote yourself, but I felt certain that, in every station of + life, you would remain a faithful son of the Church. I was not deceived in + my hopes, or rather, my dear son, you surpassed them all. Learning, by a + friendly communication, that your adopted mother ardently desired to see + you take orders, you acceded generously and religiously to the wish of the + excellent woman to whom you owed so much. But as the Lord is always just + in His recompenses, He willed that the most touching work of gratitude you + could show to your adopted mother, should at the same time be divinely + profitable by making you one of the militant members of our holy Church.” + </p> + <p> + At these words, Gabriel could not repress a significant start, as he + remembered Frances’ sad confidences. But he restrained himself, + whilst Rodin stood leaning with his elbow on the corner of the + chimney-piece, continuing to examine him with singular and obstinate + attention. + </p> + <p> + Father d’Aigrigny resumed: “I do not conceal from you, my dear + son, that your resolution filled me with joy. I saw in you one of the + future lights of the Church, and I was anxious to see it shine in the + midst of our Company. You submitted courageously to our painful and + difficult tests; you were judged worthy of belonging to us, and, after + taking in my presence the irrevocable and sacred oath, which binds you for + ever to our Company for the greater glory of God, you answered the appeal + of our Holy Father(14) to willing souls, and offered yourself as a + missionary, to preach to savages the one Catholic faith. Though it was + painful to us to part with our dear son, we could not refuse to accede to + such pious wishes. You set out a humble missionary you return a glorious + martyr—and we are justly proud to reckon you amongst our number. + This rapid sketch of the past was necessary, my dear son to arrive at what + follows, for we wish now, if it be possible, to draw still closer the + bonds that unite us. Listen to me, my dear son; what I am about to say is + confidential and of the highest importance, not only for you, but the + whole Company.” + </p> + <p> + “Then, father,” cried Gabriel hastily, interrupting the Abbe d’Aigrigny, + “I cannot—I ought not to hear you.” + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + “It is true, that, twelve years ago, father,” proceeded + Gabriel, in a firm voice, growing more animated as he proceeded, “I + entered, through your intervention, a college of the Company of Jesus. I + entered it loving, truthful, confiding. How did they encourage those + precious instincts of childhood? I will tell you. The day of my entrance, + the Superior said to me, as he pointed out two children a little older + than myself: ‘These are the companions that you will prefer. You + will always walk three together. The rules of the house forbid all + intercourse between two persons only. They also require, that you should + listen attentively to what your companions say, so that you may report it + to me; for these dear children may have, without knowing it, bad thoughts + or evil projects. Now, if you love your comrades, you must inform me of + these evil tendencies, that my paternal remonstrances may save them from + punishment; it is better to prevent evil than to punish it.’” + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:65%;"> + <img src="images/20197m.jpg" alt="20197m” width=" /><br /> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/20197.jpg"><i>Original</i></a> + </h5> + <p> + “Such are, indeed, my dear son,” said Father d’Aigrigny, + “the rules of our house, and the language we hold to all our pupils + on their entrance.” + </p> + <p> + “I know it, father,” answered Gabriel, bitterly; “three + days after, a poor, submissive, and credulous child, I was already a spy + upon my comrades, hearing and remembering their conversation, and + reporting it to the superior, who congratulated me on my zeal. What they + thus made me do was shameful, and yet, God knows! I thought I was + accomplishing a charitable duty. I was happy in obeying the commands of a + superior whom I respected, and to whose words I listened, in my childish + faith, as I should have listened to those of Heaven. One day, that I had + broken some rule of the house, the superior said to me: ‘My child, + you have deserved a severe punishment; but you will be pardoned, if you + succeed in surprising one of your comrades in the same fault that you have + committed.’ And for that, notwithstanding my faith and blind + obedience, this encouragement to turn informer, from the motive of + personal interest, might appear odious to me, the superior added. ‘I + speak to you, my child, for the sake of your comrade’s salvation. + Were he to escape punishment, his evil habits would become habitual. But + by detecting him in a fault, and exposing him to salutary correction, you + will have the double advantage of aiding in his salvation, and escaping + yourself a merited punishment, which will have been remitted because of + your zeal for your neighbor—” + </p> + <p> + “Doubtless,” answered Father d’Aigrigny, more and more + terrified by Gabriel’s language; “and in truth, my dear son, + all this is conformable to the rule followed in our colleges, and to the + habits of the members of our Company, ‘who may denounce each other + without prejudice to mutual love and charity, and only for their greater + spiritual advancement, particularly when questioned by their superior, or + commanded for the greater glory of God,’ as our Constitution has it.” + </p> + <p> + “I know it,” cried Gabriel; “I know it. ‘Tis in + the name of all that is most sacred amongst men, that we are encouraged to + do evil.” + </p> + <p> + “My dear son,” said Father d’Aigrigny, trying to conceal + his secret and growing terror beneath an appearance of wounded dignity, + “from you to me these words are at least strange.” + </p> + <p> + At this, Rodin quitted the mantelpiece, on which he had been leaning, + begin to walk up and down the room, with a meditative air, and without + ceasing to bite his nails. + </p> + <p> + “It is cruel to be obliged to remind you, my dear son, that your are + indebted to us for the education you have received,” added Father d’Aigrigny. + </p> + <p> + “Such were its fruits, father,” replied Gabriel. “Until + then I had been a spy on the other children, from a sort of + disinterestedness; but the orders of the superior made me advance another + step on that shameful road. I had become an informer, to escape a merited + punishment. And yet, such was my faith, my humility, my confidence, that I + performed with innocence and candor this doubly odious part. Once, indeed, + tormented by vague scruples, the last remains of generous aspirations that + they were stifling within me, I asked myself if the charitable and + religious end could justify the means, and I communicated my doubts to the + superior. He replied, that I had not to judge, but to obey, and that to + him alone belonged the responsibility of my acts.” + </p> + <p> + “Go on, my dear son,” said Father d’Aigrigny, gelding, + in spite of himself, to the deepest dejection. “Alas! I was right in + opposing your travel to America.” + </p> + <p> + “And yet it was the will of Providence, in that new, productive, and + free country, that, enlightened by a singular chance, on past and present, + my eyes were at length opened. Yes!” cried Gabriel, “it was in + America that, released from the gloomy abode where I had spent so many + years of my youth, and finding myself for the first time face to face with + the divine majesty of Nature, in the heart of immense solitudes through + which I journeyed—it was there that, overcome by so much + magnificence and grandeur, I made a vow—” Here Gabriel + interrupted himself, to continue: “Presently, father, I will explain + to you that vow; but believe me,” added the missionary, with an + accent of deep sorrow, “it was a fatal day to me when I first + learned to fear and condemn all that I had hitherto most revered and + blessed. Oh! I assure you father,” added Gabriel, with moist eyes, + “it was not for myself alone, that I then wept.” + </p> + <p> + “I know the goodness of your heart, my dear son,” replied + Father d’Aigrigny, catching a glimpse of hope, on seeing Gabriel’s + emotion; “I fear that you have been led astray. But trust yourself + to us, as to your spiritual fathers, and I doubt not we shall confirm your + faith, so unfortunately shaken, and disperse the darkness which at present + obscures your sight. Alas, my dear son, in your vain illusions, you have + mistaken some false glimmer for the pure light of day. But go on.” + </p> + <p> + Whilst Father d’Aigrigny was thus speaking, Rodin stopped, took a + pocket book from his coat, and wrote down several notes. Gabriel was + becoming more and more pale and agitated. It required no small courage in + him, to speak as he was speaking, for, since his journey to America, he + had learned to estimate the formidable power of the Company. But this + revelation of the past, looked at from the vantage-ground of a more + enlightened present, was for the young priest the excuse, or rather the + cause of the determination he had just signified to his superior, and he + wished to explain all faithfully, notwithstanding the danger he knowingly + encountered. He continued therefore, in an agitated voice: + </p> + <p> + “You know, father, that the last days of my childhood, that happy + age of frankness and innocent joy, were spent in an atmosphere of terror, + suspicion, and restraint. Alas! how could I resign myself to the least + impulse of confiding trust, when I was recommended to shun the looks of + him who spoke with me, in order to hide the impression that his words + might cause—to conceal whatever I felt, and to observe and listen to + everything? Thus I reached the age of fifteen; by degrees, the rare visits + that I was allowed to pay, but always in presence of one of our fathers, + to my adopted mother and brother, were quite suppressed, so as to shut my + heart against all soft and tender emotions. Sad and fearful in that large, + old noiseless, gloomy house, I felt that I became more and more isolated + from the affections and the freedom of the world. My time was divided + between mutilated studies, without connection and without object, and long + hours of minute devotional exercises. I ask you, father, did they ever + seek to warm our young souls by words of tenderness or evangelic love? + Alas, no! For the words of the divine Saviour—Love ye one another, + they had substituted the command: Suspect ye one another. Did they ever, + father, speak to us of our country or of liberty?—No! ah, no! for + those words make the heart beat high; and with them, the heart must not + beat at all. To our long hours of study and devotion, there only succeeded + a few walks, three by three—never two and two—because by + threes, the spy-system is more practicable, and because intimacies are + more easily formed by two alone; and thus might have arisen some of those + generous friendships, which also make the heart beat more than it + should.15 And so, by the habitual repression of every feeling, there came + a time when I could not feel at all. For six months, I had not seen my + adopted mother and brother; they came to visit me at the college; a few + years before, I should have received them with transports and tears; this + time my eyes were dry, my heart was cold. My mother and brother quitted me + weeping. The sight of this grief struck me and I became conscious of the + icy insensibility which had been creeping upon me since I inhabited this + tomb. Frightened at myself, I wished to leave it, while I had still + strength to do so. Then, father, I spoke to you of the choice of a + profession; for sometimes, in waking moments, I seemed to catch from afar + the sound of an active and useful life, laborious and free, surrounded by + family affections. Oh! then I felt the want of movement and liberty, of + noble and warm emotions—of that life of the soul, which fled before + me. I told it you, father on my knees, bathing your hands with my tears. + The life of a workman or a soldier—anything would have suited me. It + was then you informed me, that my adopted mother, to whom I owed my life—for + she had taken me in, dying of want, and, poor herself, had shared with me + the scanty bread of her child—admirable sacrifice for a mother!—that + she,” continued Gabriel, hesitating and casting down his eyes, for + noble natures blush for the guilt of others, and are ashamed of the + infamies of which they are themselves victims, “that she, that my + adopted mother, had but one wish, one desire—” + </p> + <p> + “That of seeing you takes orders, my dear son,” replied Father + d’Aigrigny; “for this pious and perfect creature hoped, that, + in securing your salvation, she would provide for her own: but she did not + venture to inform you of this thought, for fear you might ascribe it to an + interested motive.” + </p> + <p> + “Enough, father!” said Gabriel, interrupting the Abbe d’Aigrigny, + with a movement of involuntary indignation; “it is painful for me to + hear you assert an error. Frances Baudoin never had such a thought.” + </p> + <p> + “My dear son, you are too hasty in your judgments,” replied + Father d’Aigrigny, mildly. “I tell you, that such was the one, + sole thought of your adopted mother.” + </p> + <p> + “Yesterday, father, she told me all. She and I were equally + deceived.” + </p> + <p> + “Then, my dear son,” said Father d’Aigrigny, sternly, + “you take the word of your adopted mother before mine?” + </p> + <p> + “Spare me an answer painful for both of us, father,” said + Gabriel, casting down his eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Will you now tell me,” resumed Father d’Aigrigny, with + anxiety, “what you mean to—” + </p> + <p> + The reverend father was unable to finish. Samuel entered the room, and + said: “A rather old man wishes to speak to M. Rodin.” + </p> + <p> + “That is my name, sir,” answered the socius, in surprise; + “I am much obliged to you.” But, before following the Jew, he + gave to Father d’Aigrigny a few words written with a pencil upon one + of the leaves of his packet-book. + </p> + <p> + Rodin went out in very uneasy mood, to learn who could have come to seek + him in the Rue Saint-Francois. Father d’Aigrigny and Gabriel were + left alone together. + </p> + <p> + (14) It is only in respect to Missions that the Jesuits acknowledge the + papal supremacy. + </p> + <p> + (15) This rule is so strict in Jesuit Colleges, that if one of three + pupils leaves the other two, they separate out of earshot till the first + comes back. + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:65%;"> + <img src="images/20205m.jpg" alt="20205m” width=" /><br /> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/20205.jpg"><i>Original</i></a> + </h5> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0073" id="link2HCH0073"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XX. THE RUPTURE. + </h2> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">P</span>lunged into a + state of mortal anxiety, Father d’Aigrigny had taken mechanically + the note written by Rodin, and held it in his hand without thinking of + opening it. The reverend father asked himself in alarm, what conclusion + Gabriel would draw from these recriminations upon the past; and he durst + not make any answer to his reproaches, for fear of irritating the young + priest, upon whose head such immense interests now reposed. Gabriel could + possess nothing for himself, according to the constitutions of the Society + of Jesus. Moreover, the reverend father had obtained from him, in favor of + the Order, an express renunciation of all property that might ever come to + him. But the commencement of his conversation seemed to announce so + serious a change in Gabriel’s views with regard to the Company, that + he might choose to break through the ties which attached him to it; and in + that case, he would not be legally bound to fulfil any of his + engagements.(16) The donation would thus be cancelled de facto, just at + the moment of being so marvellously realized by the possession of the + immense fortune of the Rennepont family, and d’Aigrigny’s + hopes would thus be completely and for ever frustrated. Of all these + perplexities which the reverend father had experienced for some time past, + with regard to this inheritance, none had been more unexpected and + terrible than this. Fearing to interrupt or question Gabriel, Father d’Aigrigny + waited, in mute terror, the end of this interview, which already bore so + threatening an aspect. + </p> + <p> + The missionary resumed: “It is my duty, father, to continue this + sketch of my past life, until the moment of my departure for America. You + will understand, presently, why I have imposed on myself this obligation.” + </p> + <p> + Father d’Aigrigny nodded for him to proceed. + </p> + <p> + “Once informed of the pretended wishes of my adopted mother, I + resigned myself to them, though at some cost of feeling. I left the gloomy + abode, in which I had passed my childhood and part of my youth, to enter + one of the seminaries of the Company. My resolution was not caused by an + irresistible religious vocation, but by a wish to discharge the sacred + debt I owed my adopted mother. Yet the true spirit of the religion of + Christ is so vivifying, that I felt myself animated and warmed by the idea + of carrying out the adorable precepts of our Blessed Saviour. To my + imagination, a seminary, instead of resembling the college where I had + lived in painful restraint, appeared like a holy place, where all that was + pure and warm in the fraternity of the Gospel would be applied to common + life—where, for example, the lessons most frequently taught would be + the ardent love of humanity, and the ineffable sweets of commiseration and + tolerance—where the everlasting words of Christ would be interpreted + in their broadest sense—and where, in fine, by the habitual exercise + and expansion of the most generous sentiments, men were prepared for the + magnificent apostolic mission of making the rich and happy sympathize with + the sufferings of their brethren, by unveiling the frightful miseries of + humanity—a sublime and sacred morality, which none are able to + withstand, when it is preached with eyes full of tears, and hearts + overflowing with tenderness and charity!” + </p> + <p> + As he delivered these last words with profound emotion, Gabriel’s + eyes became moist, and his countenance shone with angelic beauty. + </p> + <p> + “Such is, indeed, my dear son, the spirit of Christianity; but one + must also study and explain the letter,” answered Father d’Aigrigny, + coldly. “It is to this study that the seminaries of our Company are + specially destined. Now the interpretation of the letter is a work of + analysis, discipline, and submission—and not one of heart and + sentiment.” + </p> + <p> + “I perceive that only too well, father. On entering this new house, + I found, alas! all my hopes defeated. Dilating for a moment, my heart soon + sunk within me. Instead of this centre of life, affection, youth, of which + I had dreamed. I found, in the silent and ice-cold seminary, the same + suppression of every generous emotion, the same inexorable discipline, the + same system of mutual prying, the same suspicion, the same invincible + obstacles to all ties of friendship. The ardor which had warmed my soul + for an instant soon died out; little by little, I fell back into the + habits of a stagnant, passive, mechanical life, governed by a pitiless + power with mechanical precision, just like the inanimate works of a watch.” + </p> + <p> + “But order, submission and regularity are the first foundations of + our Company, my dear son.” + </p> + <p> + “Alas, father! it was death, not life, that I found thus organized. + In the midst of this destruction of every generous principle, I devoted + myself to scholastic and theological studies—gloomy studies—a + wily, menacing, and hostile science which, always awake to ideas of peril, + contest, and war, is opposed to all those of peace, progress, and liberty.” + </p> + <p> + “Theology, my dear son,” said Father d’Aigrigny, + sternly, “is at once a buckler and a sword; a buckler, to protect + and cover the Catholic faith—a sword, to attack and combat heresy.” + </p> + <p> + “And yet, father, Christ and His apostles knew not this subtle + science: their simple and touching words regenerated mankind, and set + freedom over slavery. Does not the divine code of the Gospel suffice to + teach men to love one another? But, alas! far from speaking to us this + language, our attention was too often occupied with wars of religion, and + the rivers of blood that had flowed in honor of the Lord, and for the + destruction of heresy. These terrible lessons made our life still more + melancholy. As we grew near to manhood, our relations at the seminary + assumed a growing character of bitterness, jealousy and suspicion. The + habit of tale bearing against each other, applied to more serious + subjects, engendered silent hate and profound resentments. I was neither + better nor worse than the others. All of us, bowed down for years beneath + the iron yoke of passive obedience, unaccustomed to reflection or + free-will, humble and trembling before our superiors, had the same pale, + dull, colorless disposition. At last I took orders; once a priest, you + invited me, father, to enter the Company of Jesus, or rather I found + myself insensibly brought to this determination. How, I do not know. For a + long time before, my will was not my own. I went through all my proofs; + the most terrible was decisive; for some months, I lived in the silence of + my cell, practicing with resignation the strange and mechanical exercises + that you ordered me. With the exception of your reverence, nobody + approached me during that long space of time; no human voice but yours + sounded in my ear. Sometimes, in the night, I felt vague terrors; my mind, + weakened by fasting, austerity, and solitude, was impressed with frightful + visions. At other times, on the contrary, I felt a sort of quiescence, in + the idea that, having once pronounced my vows, I should be delivered for + ever from the burden of thought and will. Then I abandoned myself to an + insurmountable torpor, like those unfortunate wretches, who, surprised by + a snow-storm, yield to a suicidal repose. Thus I awaited the fatal moment. + At last, according to the rule of discipline, choking with the death + rattle,(17) I hastened the moment of accomplishing the final act of my + expiring will—the vow to renounce it for ever.” + </p> + <p> + “Remember, my dear son,” replied Father d’Aigrigny, pale + and tortured by increasing anguish, “remember, that, on the eve of + the day fixed for the completion of your vows; I offered, according to the + rule of our Company, to absolve you from joining us—leaving you + completely free, for we accept none but voluntary vocations.” + </p> + <p> + “It is true, father,” answered Gabriel, with sorrowful + bitterness; “when, worn out and broken by three months of solitude + and trial, I was completely exhausted, and unable to move a step, you + opened the door of my cell, and said to me: ‘If you like, rise and + walk; you are free; Alas! I had no more strength. The only desire of my + soul, inert and paralyzed for so long a period, was the repose of the + grave; and pronouncing those irrevocable vows, I fell, like a corpse, into + your hands.” + </p> + <p> + “And, till now, my dear son, you have never failed in this corpse—like + obedience,—to use the expression of our glorious founder—because, + the more absolute this obedience, the more meritorious it must be.” + </p> + <p> + After a moment’s silence, Gabriel resumed: “You had always + concealed from me, father, the true ends of the Society into which I + entered. I was asked to abandon my free-will to my superiors, in the name + of the Greater Glory of God. My vows once pronounced, I was to be in your + hands a docile and obedient instrument; but I was to be employed, you told + me, in a holy, great and beauteous work. I believed you, father—how + should I not have believed you? but a fatal event changed my destiny—a + painful malady caused by—” + </p> + <p> + “My son,” cried Father d’Aigrigny, interrupting Gabriel, + “it is useless to recall these circumstances.” + </p> + <p> + “Pardon me, father, I must recall them. I have the right to be + heard. I cannot pass over in silence any of the facts, which have led me + to take the immutable resolution that I am about to announce to you.” + </p> + <p> + “Speak on, my son,” said Father d’Aigrigny, frowning; + for he was much alarmed at the words of the young priest, whose cheeks, + until now pale, were covered with a deep blush. + </p> + <p> + “Six months before my departure for America,” resumed Gabriel, + casting down his eyes, “you informed me, that I was destined to + confess penitents; and to prepare then for that sacred ministry, you gave + me a book.” + </p> + <p> + Gabriel again hesitated. His blushes increased. Father d’Aigrigny + could scarcely restrain a start of impatience and anger. + </p> + <p> + “You gave me a book,” resumed the young priest, with a great + effort to control himself, “a book containing questions to be + addressed by a confessor to youths, and young girls, and married women, + when they present themselves at the tribunal of penance. My God!” + added Gabriel, shuddering at the remembrance. “I shall never forget + that awful moment. It was night. I had retired to my chamber, taking with + me this book, composed, you told me, by one of our fathers, and completed + by a holy bishop.(18) Full of respect, faith, and confidence, I opened + those pages. At first, I did not understand them—afterwards I + understood—and then I was seized with shame and horror—struck + with stupor—and had hardly strength to close, with trembling hand, + this abominable volume. I ran to you, father, to accuse myself of having + involuntarily cast my eyes on those nameless pages, which, by mistake, you + had placed in my hands.” + </p> + <p> + “Remember, also, my dear son,” said Father d’Aigrigny, + gravely, “that I calmed your scruples, and told you that a priest, + who is bound to hear everything under the seal of confession, must be able + to know and appreciate everything; and that our Company imposes the task + of reading this Compendium, as a classical work, upon young deacons + seminarists, and priests, who are destined to be confessors.” + </p> + <p> + “I believed you, father. In me the habit of inert obedience was so + powerful, and I was so unaccustomed to independent reflection, that, + notwithstanding my horror (with which I now reproached myself as with a + crime), I took the volume back into my chamber, and read. Oh, father! what + a dreadful revelation of criminal fancies, guilty of guiltiest in their + refinement!” + </p> + <p> + “You speak of this book in blamable terms,” skid Father d’Aigrigny, + severely; “you were the victim of a too lively imagination. It is to + it that you must attribute this fatal impression, and not to an excellent + work, irreproachable for its special purpose, and duly authorized by the + Church. You are not able to judge of such a production.” + </p> + <p> + “I will speak of it no more, father,” said Gabriel: and he + thus resumed: “A long illness followed that terrible night. Many + times, they feared for my reason. When I recovered, the past appeared to + me like a painful dream. You told me, then, father, that I was not yet + ripe for certain functions; and it was then that I earnestly entreated you + to be allowed to go on the American missions. After having long refused my + prayer, you at length consented. From my childhood, I had always lived in + the college or seminary, to a state of continual restraint and subjection. + By constantly holding down my head and eyes, I had lost the habit of + contemplating the heavens and the splendors of nature. But, oh! what deep, + religious happiness I felt, when I found myself suddenly transported to + the centre of the imposing grandeur of the seas-half-way between the ocean + and the sky!—I seemed to come forth from a place of thick darkness; + for the first time, for many years, I felt my heart beat freely in my + bosom; for the first time, I felt myself master of my own thoughts, and + ventured to examine my past life, as from the summit of a mountain, one + looks down into a gloomy vale. Then strange doubts rose within me. I asked + myself by what right, and for what end, any beings had so long repressed, + almost annihilated, the exercise of my will, of my liberty, of my reason, + since God had endowed me with these gifts. But I said to myself, that + perhaps, one day, the great, beauteous, and holy work, in which I was to + have my share, would be revealed to me, and would recompense my obedience + and resignation.” + </p> + <p> + At this moment, Rodin re-entered the room. Father d’Aigrigny + questioned him with a significant look. The socius approached, and said to + him in a low voice, so, that Gabriel could not hear: “Nothing + serious. It was only to inform me, that Marshal Simon’s father is + arrived at M. Hardy’s factory.” + </p> + <p> + Then, glancing at Gabriel, Rodin appeared to interrogate Father d’Aigrigny, + who hung his head with a desponding air. Yet he resumed, again addressing + Gabriel, whilst Rodin took his old place, with his elbow on the + chimney-piece: “Go on, my dear son. I am anxious to learn what + resolution you have adopted.” + </p> + <p> + “I will tell you in a moment, father. I arrived at Charleston. The + superior of our establishment in that place, to whom I imparted my doubts + as to the object of our Society, took upon himself to clear them up, and + unveiled it all to me with alarming frankness. He told me the tendency not + perhaps of all the members of the Company, for a great number must have + shared my ignorance—but the objects which our leaders have + pertinaciously kept in view, ever since the foundation of the Order. I was + terrified. I read the casuists. Oh, father! that was a new and dreadful + revelation, when, at every page, I read the excuse and justification of + robbery, slander, adultery, perjury, murder, regicide. When I considered + that I, the priest of a God of charity, justice, pardon, and love, was to + belong henceforth to a Company, whose chiefs professed and glorified in + such doctrines, I made a solemn oath to break for ever the ties which + bound me to it!”(19) + </p> + <p> + On these words of Gabriel, Father d’Aigrigny and Rodin exchanged a + look of terror. All was lost; their prey had escaped them. Deeply moved by + the remembrances he recalled, Gabriel did not perceive the action of the + reverend father and the socius, and thus continued: “In spite of my + resolution, father, to quit the Company, the discovery I had made was very + painful to me. Oh! believe me, for the honest and loving soul, nothing is + more frightful than to have to renounce what it has long respected!—I + suffered so much, that, when I thought of the dangers of my mission, I + hoped, with a secret joy, that God would perhaps take me to Himself under + these circumstances: but, on the contrary, He watched over me with + providential solicitude.” + </p> + <p> + As he said this, Gabriel felt a thrill, for he remembered a Mysterious + Woman who had saved his life in America. After a moment’s silence, + he resumed: “My mission terminated, I returned hither to beg, + father, that you would release me from my vows. Many times but in vain, I + solicited an interview. Yesterday, it pleased Providence that I should + have a long conversation with my adopted mother; from her I learned the + trick by which my vocation had been forced upon me—and the + sacrilegious abuse of the confessional, by which she had been induced to + entrust to other persons the orphans that a dying mother had confided to + the care of an honest soldier. You understand, father, that, if even I had + before hesitated to break these bonds, what I have heard yesterday must + have rendered my decision irrevocable. But at this solemn moment, father, + I am bound to tell you, that I do not accuse the whole Society; many + simple, credulous, and confiding men, like myself, must no doubt form part + of it. Docile instruments, they see not in their blindness the work to + which they are destined. I pity them, and pray God to enlighten them, as + he has enlightened me.” + </p> + <p> + “So, my son,” said Father d’Aigrigny, rising with livid + and despairing look, “you come to ask of me to break the ties which + attach you to the Society?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, father; you received my vows—it is for you to release me + from them.” + </p> + <p> + “So, my son, you understand that engagements once freely taken by + you, are now to be considered as null and void?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, father.” + </p> + <p> + “So, my son, there is to be henceforth nothing in common between you + and our Company?” + </p> + <p> + “No, father—since I request you to absolve me of my vows.” + </p> + <p> + “But, you know, my son, that the Society may release you—but + that you cannot release yourself.” + </p> + <p> + “The step I take proves to you, father, the importance I attach to + an oath, since I come to you to release me from it. Nevertheless, were you + to refuse me, I should not think myself bound in the eyes of God or man.” + </p> + <p> + “It is perfectly clear,” said Father d’Aigrigny to + Rodin, his voice expiring upon his lips, so deep was his despair. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly, whilst Gabriel, with downcast eyes, waited for the answer of + Father d’Aigrigny, who remained mute and motionless, Rodin appeared + struck with a new idea, on perceiving that the reverend father still held + in his hand the note written in pencil. The socius hastily approached + Father d’Aigrigny, and said to him in a whisper, with a look of + doubt and alarm: “Have you not read my note?” + </p> + <p> + “I did not think of it,” answered the reverend father, + mechanically. + </p> + <p> + Rodin appeared to make a great effort to repress a movement of violent + rage. Then he said to Father d’Aigrigny, in a calm voice: “Read + it now.” + </p> + <p> + Hardly had the reverend father cast his eyes upon this note, than a sudden + ray of hope illumined his hitherto despairing countenance. Pressing the + hand of the socius with an expression of deep gratitude, he said to him in + a low voice: “You are right. Gabriel is ours.” + </p> + <p> + (16) The statutes formally state that the Company can expel all drones and + wasps, but that no man can break his ties, if the Order wishes to retain + him. + </p> + <p> + (17) This is their own command. The constitution expressly bids the novice + wait for this decisive climax of the ordeal before taking the vows of God. + </p> + <p> + (18) It is impossible, even in Latin, to give our readers an idea of this + infamous work. + </p> + <p> + (19) This is true. See the extracts from the Compendium for the use of + Schools, published under the title of “Discoveries by a + Bibliophilist.” Strasburg, 1843. For regicide, see Sanchez and + others. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0074" id="link2HCH0074"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXI. THE CHANGE. + </h2> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">B</span>efore again + addressing Gabriel, Father d’Aigrigny carefully reflected; and his + countenance, lately so disturbed, became gradually once more serene. He + appeared to meditate and calculate the effects of the eloquence he was + about to employ, upon an excellent and safe theme, which the socius struck + with the danger of the situation, had suggested in a few lines rapidly + written with a pencil, and which, in his despair, the reverend father had + at first neglected. Rodin resumed his post of observation near the + mantelpiece, on which he leaned his elbow, after casting at Father d’Aigrigny + a glance of disdainful and angry superiority, accompanied by a significant + shrug of the shoulders. + </p> + <p> + After this involuntary manifestation, which was luckily not perceived by + Father d’Aigrigny, the cadaverous face of the socius resumed its icy + calmness, and his flabby eyelids, raised a moment with anger and + impatience, fell, and half-veiled his little, dull eyes. It must be + confessed that Father d’Aigrigny, notwithstanding the ease and + elegance of his speech, notwithstanding the seduction of his exquisite + manners, his agreeable features, and the exterior of an accomplished and + refined man of the world, was often subdued and governed by the unpitying + firmness, the diabolical craft and depth of Rodin, the old, repulsive, + dirty, miserably dressed man, who seldom abandoned his humble part of + secretary and mute auditor. The influence of education is so powerful, + that Gabriel, notwithstanding the formal rupture he had just provoked, + felt himself still intimidated in presence of Father d’Aigrigny, and + waited with painful anxiety for the answer of the reverend father to his + express demand to be released from his old vows. His reverence having, + doubtless, regularly laid his plan of attack, at length broke silence, + heaved a deep sigh, gave to his countenance, lately so severe and + irritated, a touching expression of kindness, and said to Gabriel, in an + affectionate voice: “Forgive me, my dear son, for having kept + silence so long; but your abrupt determination has so stunned me, and has + raised within me so many painful thoughts, that I have had to reflect for + some moments, to try and penetrate the cause of this rupture, and I think + I have succeeded. You have well considered, my dear son, the serious + nature of the step you are taking?” + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:65%;"> + <img src="images/20213m.jpg" alt="20213m” width=" /><br /> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/20213.jpg"><i>Original</i></a> + </h5> + <p> + “Yes, father.” + </p> + <p> + “And you have absolutely decided to abandon the Society, even + against my will?” + </p> + <p> + “It would be painful to me, father—but I must resign myself to + it.” + </p> + <p> + “It should be very painful to you, indeed, my dear son; for you took + the irrevocable vow freely, and this vow, according to our statutes, binds + you not to quit the Society, unless with the consent of your superiors.” + </p> + <p> + “I did not then know, father, the nature of the engagement I took. + More enlightened now, I ask to withdraw myself; my only desire is to + obtain a curacy in some village far from Paris. I feel an irresistible + vocation for such humble and useful functions. In the country, there is so + much misery, and such ignorance of all that could contribute to ameliorate + the condition of the agricultural laborer, that his existence is as + unhappy as that of a negro slave; for what liberty has he? and what + instruction? Oh! it seems to me, that, with God’s help, I might, as + a village curate, render some services to humanity. It would therefore be + painful to me, father, to see you refuse—” + </p> + <p> + “Be satisfied, my son,” answered Father d’Aigrigny; + “I will no longer seek to combat your desire to separate yourself + from us.” + </p> + <p> + “Then, father, you release me from my vows?” + </p> + <p> + “I have not the power to do so, my dear son; but I will write + immediately to Rome, to ask the necessary authority from our general.” + </p> + <p> + “I thank you, father.” + </p> + <p> + “Soon, my dear son, you will be delivered from these bonds, which + you deem so heavy; and the men you abandon will not the less continue to + pray for you, that God may preserve you from still greater wanderings. You + think yourself released with regard to us, my dear son; but we do not + think ourselves released with regard to you. It is not thus that we can + get rid of the habit of paternal attachment. What would you have? We look + upon ourselves as bound to our children, by the very benefits with which + we have loaded them. You were poor, and an orphan; we stretched out our + arms to you, as much from the interest which you deserved, my dear son, as + to spare your excellent adopted mother too great a burden.” + </p> + <p> + “Father,” said Gabriel, with suppressed emotion, “I am + not ungrateful.” + </p> + <p> + “I wish to believe so, my dear son. For long years, we gave to you, + as to our beloved child, food for the body and the soul. It pleases you + now to renounce and abandon us. Not only do we consent to it—but now + that I have penetrated the true motives of your rupture with us, it is my + duty to release you from your vow.” + </p> + <p> + “Of what motives do you speak, Father?” + </p> + <p> + “Alas! my dear son, I understand your fears. Dangers menace us—you + know it well.” + </p> + <p> + “Dangers, father?” cried Gabriel. + </p> + <p> + “It is impossible, my dear son, that you should not be aware that, + since the fall of our legitimate sovereigns, our natural protectors, + revolutionary impiety becomes daily more and more threatening. We are + oppressed with persecutions. I can, therefore, comprehend and appreciate, + my dear son, the motive which under such circumstances, induces you to + separate from us.” + </p> + <p> + “Father!” cried Gabriel, with as much indignation as grief, + “you do not think that of me—you cannot think it.” + </p> + <p> + Without noticing the protestations of Gabriel, Father d’Aigrigny + continued his imaginary picture of the dangers of the Company, which, far + from being really in peril, was already beginning secretly to recover its + influence. + </p> + <p> + “Oh! if our Company were now as powerful as it was some years ago,” + resumed the reverend father; “if it were still surrounded by the + respect and homage which are due to it from all true believers—in + spite of the abominable calumnies with which we are assailed—then, + my dear son, we should perhaps have hesitated to release you from your + vows, and have rather endeavored to open your eyes to the light, and save + you from the fatal delusion to which you are a prey. But now that we are + weak, oppressed, threatened on every side, it is our duty, it is an act of + charity, not to force you to share in perils from which you have the + prudence to wish to withdraw yourself.” + </p> + <p> + So, saying, Father d’Aigrigny cast a rapid glance at his socius, who + answered with a nod of approbation, accompanied by a movement of + impatience that seemed to say: “Go on! go on!” + </p> + <p> + Gabriel was quite overcome. There was not in the whole world a heart more + generous, loyal, and brave than his. We may judge of what he must have + suffered, on hearing the resolution he had come to thus misinterpreted. + </p> + <p> + “Father,” he resumed, in an agitated voice, whilst his eyes + filled with tears, “your words are cruel and unjust. You know that I + am not a coward.” + </p> + <p> + “No,” said Rodin, in his sharp, cutting voice, addressing + Father d’Aigrigny, and pointing to Gabriel with a disdainful look; + “your dear son is only prudent.” + </p> + <p> + These words from Rodin made Gabriel start; a slight blush colored his pale + cheeks; his large and blue eyes sparkled with a generous anger; then, + faithful to the precepts of Christian humility and resignation, he + conquered this irritable impulse, hung down his head, and, too much + agitated to reply, remained silent, and brushed away an unseen tear. This + tear did not escape the notice of the socius. He saw in it no doubt, a + favorable symptom, for he exchanged a glance of satisfaction with Father d’Aigrigny. + The latter was about to touch on a question of great interest, so, + notwithstanding his self-command, his voice trembled slightly; but + encouraged, or rather pushed on by a look from Rodin, who had become + extremely attentive, he said to Gabriel: “Another motive obliges us + not to hesitate in releasing you from your vow, my dear son. It is a + question of pure delicacy. You probably learned yesterday from your + adopted mother, that you will perhaps be called upon to take possession of + an inheritance, of which the value is unknown.” + </p> + <p> + Gabriel raised his head hastily and said to Father d’Aigrigny: + “As I have already stated to M. Rodin, my adopted mother only talked + of her scruples of conscience, and I was completely ignorant of the + existence of the inheritance of which you speak.” + </p> + <p> + The expression of indifference with which the young priest pronounced + these last words, was remarked by Rodin. + </p> + <p> + “Be it so,” replied Father d’Aigrigny. “You were + not aware of it—I believe you—though all appearances would + tend to prove the contrary—to prove, indeed, that the knowledge of + this inheritance was not unconnected with your resolution to separate from + us.” + </p> + <p> + “I do not understand you, Father.” + </p> + <p> + “It is very simple. Your rupture with us would then have two + motives. First, we are in danger, and you think it prudent to leave us—” + </p> + <p> + “Father!” + </p> + <p> + “Allow me to finish, my dear son, and come to the second motive. If + I am deceived, you can tell me so. These are the facts. Formerly, on the + hypothesis that your family, of which you knew nothing, might one day + leave you some property, you made, in return for the care bestowed on you + by the Company, a free gift of all you might hereafter possess, not to us—but + to the poor, of whom we are the born shepherds.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, father?” asked Gabriel, not seeing to what this + preamble tended. + </p> + <p> + “Well, my dear son—now that you are sure of enjoying a + competence, you wish, no doubt, by separating from us, to annul this + donation made under other circumstances.” + </p> + <p> + “To speak plainly, you violate your oath, because we are persecuted, + and because you wish to take back your gifts,” added Rodin, in a + sharp voice, as if to describe in the clearest and plainest manner the + situation of Gabriel with regard to the Society. + </p> + <p> + At this infamous accusation, Gabriel could only raise his hands and eyes + to heaven, and exclaim, with an expression of despair, “Oh, heaven!” + </p> + <p> + Once more exchanging a look of intelligence with Rodin, Father d’Aigrigny + said to him, in a severe tone, as if reproaching him for his too savage + frankness: “I think you go too far. Our dear son could only have + acted in the base and cowardly manner you suggest, had he known his + position as an heir; but, since he affirms the contrary, we are bound to + believe him—in spite of appearances.” + </p> + <p> + “Father,” said Gabriel, pale, agitated trembling, and with + half suppressed grief and indignation, “I thank you, at least, for + having suspended your judgment. No, I am not a coward; for heaven is my + witness, that I knew of no danger to which the Society was exposed. Nor am + I base and avaricious; for heaven is also my witness, that only at this + moment I learn from you, father, that I may be destined to inherit + property, and—” + </p> + <p> + “One word, my dear son. It is quite lately that I became informed of + this circumstance, by the greatest chance in the world,” said Father + d’Aigrigny, interrupting Gabriel; “and that was thanks to some + family papers which your adopted mother had given to her confessor, and + which were entrusted to us when you entered our college. A little before + your return from America, in arranging the archives of the Company, your + file of papers fell into the hands of our father-attorney. It was + examined, and we thus learned that one of your paternal ancestors, to whom + the house in which we now are belonged, left a will which is to be opened + to day at noon. Yesterday, we believed you one of us; our statutes command + that we should possess nothing of our own; you had corroborated those + statutes, by a donation in favor of the patrimony of the poor—which + we administer. It was no longer you, therefore, but the Company, which, in + my person, presented itself as the inheritor in your place, furnished with + your titles, which I have here ready in order. But now, my clear son, that + you separate from us, you must present yourself in your own name. We came + here as the representatives of the poor, to whom in former days you + piously abandoned whatever goods might fall to your share. Now, on the + contrary, the hope of a fortune changes your sentiments. You are free to + resume your gifts.” + </p> + <p> + Gabriel had listened to Father d’Aigrigny with painful impatience. + At length he exclaimed. “Do you mean to say, father, that you think + me capable of canceling a donation freely made, in favor of the Company, + to which I am indebted for my education? You believe me infamous enough to + break my word, in the hope of possessing a modest patrimony?” + </p> + <p> + “This patrimony, my dear, son, may be small; but it may also be + considerable.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, father! if it were a king’s fortune,” cried + Gabriel, with proud and noble indifference, “I should not speak + otherwise—and I have, I think, the right to be believed listen to my + fixed resolution. The Company to which I belong runs, you say, great + dangers. I will inquire into these dangers. Should they prove threatening—strong + in the determination which morally separates me from you—I will not + leave you till I see the end of your perils. As for the inheritance, of + which you believe me so desirous, I resign it to you formally, father, as + I once freely promised. My only wish is, that this property may be + employed for the relief of the poor. I do not know what may be the amount + of this fortune, but large or small, it belongs to the Company, because I + have thereto pledged my word. I have told you, father, that my chief + desire is to obtain a humble curacy in some poor village—poor, above + all—because there my services will be most useful. Thus, father, + when a man, who never spoke falsehood in his life, affirms to you, that he + only sighs for so humble an existence, you ought, I think, to believe him + incapable of snatching back, from motives of avarice, gifts already made.” + </p> + <p> + Father d’Aigrigny had now as much trouble to restrain his joy, as he + before had to conceal his terror. He appeared, however, tolerably calm, + and said to Gabriel: “I did not expect less from you, my dear son.” + </p> + <p> + Then he made a sign to Rodin, to invite him to interpose. The latter + perfectly understood his superior. He left the chimney, drew near to + Gabriel, and leaned against the table, upon which stood paper and + inkstand. Then, beginning mechanically to beat the tattoo with the tips of + his coarse fingers, in all their array of flat and dirty nails, he said to + Father d’Aigrigny: “All this is very fine! but your dear son + gives you no security for the fulfilment of his promise except an oath—and + that, we know, is of little value.” + </p> + <p> + “Sir!” cried Gabriel + </p> + <p> + “Allow me,” said Rodin, coldly. “The law does not + acknowledge our existence and therefore can take no cognizance of + donations made in favor of the Company. You might resume to-morrow what + you are pleased to give us to-day.” + </p> + <p> + “But my oath, sir!” cried Gabriel. + </p> + <p> + Rodin looked at him fixedly, as he answered: “Your oath? Did you not + swear eternal obedience to the Company, and never to separate from us?—and + of what weight now are these oaths?” + </p> + <p> + For a moment Gabriel was embarrassed; but, feeling how false was this + logic, he rose, calm and dignified, went to seat himself at the desk, took + up a pen, and wrote as follows: + </p> + <p> + “Before God, who sees and hears me, and in the presence of you, + Father d’Aigrigny and M. Rodin, I renew and confirm, freely and + voluntarily, the absolute donation made by me to the Society of Jesus, in + the person of the said Father d’Aigrigny, of all the property which + may hereafter belong to me, whatever may be its value. I swear, on pain of + infamy, to perform tis irrevocable promise, whose accomplishment I regard, + in my soul and conscience, as the discharge of a debt, and the fulfilment + of a pious duty. + </p> + <p> + “This donation having for its object the acknowledgment of past + services, and the relief of the poor, no future occurrences can at all + modify it. For the very reason that I know I could one day legally cancel + the present free and deliberate act, I declare, that if ever I were to + attempt such a thing, under any possible circumstances, I should deserve + the contempt and horror of all honest people. + </p> + <p> + “In witness whereof I have written this paper, on the 13th of + February, 1832, in Paris, immediately before the opening of the testament + of one of my paternal ancestors. + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:65%;"> + <img src="images/10225m.jpg" alt="10225m " width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/10225.jpg"><i>Original</i></a> + </h5> + <p> + “GABRIEL DE RENNEPONT.” + </p> + <p> + As he rose, the young priest delivered this document to Rodin, without + uttering a word. The socius read it attentively, and, still impassible, + answered, as he looked at Gabriel: “Well, it is a written oath—that + is all.” + </p> + <p> + Gabriel dwelt stupefied at the audacity of Rodin, who ventured to tell + him, that this document, in which he renewed his donation in so noble, + generous, and spontaneous a manner, was not all sufficient. The socius was + the first again to break the silence, and he said to Father d’Aigrigny, + with his usual cool impudence. “One of two things must be. Either + your dear son means to render his donation absolutely valuable and + irrevocable,—or—” + </p> + <p> + “Sir,” exclaimed Gabriel, interrupting him, and hardly able to + restrain himself, “spare yourself and me such a shameful + supposition.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, then,” resumed Rodin, impassible as ever, “as you + are perfectly decided to make this donation a serious reality, what + objection can you have to secure it legally?” + </p> + <p> + “None, sir,” said Gabriel, bitterly, “since my written + and sworn promise will not suffice you.” + </p> + <p> + “My dear son,” said Father d’Aigrigny, affectionately, + “if this were a donation for my own advantage, believe me I should + require no better security than your word. But here I am, as it were, the + agent of the Society, or rather the trustee of the poor, who will profit + by your generosity. For the sake of humanity, therefore, we cannot secure + this gift by too many legal precautions, so that the unfortunate objects + of our care may have certainty instead of vague hopes to depend upon. God + may call you to him at any moment, and who shall say that your heirs will + be so ready to keep the oath you have taken?” + </p> + <p> + “You are right, father,” said Gabriel, sadly; “I had not + thought of the case of death, which is yet so probable.” + </p> + <p> + Hereupon, Samuel opened the door of the room, and said: “Gentlemen, + the notary has just arrived. Shall I show him in? At ten o’clock + precisely, the door of the house will be opened.” + </p> + <p> + “We are the more glad to see the notary,” said Rodin, “as + we just happen to have some business with him. Pray ask him to walk in.” + </p> + <p> + “I will bring him to you instantly,” replied Samuel, as he + went out. + </p> + <p> + “Here is a notary,” said Rodin to Gabriel. “If you have + still the same intentions, you can legalize your donation in presence of + this public officer, and thus save yourself from a great burden for the + future.” + </p> + <p> + “Sir,” said Gabriel, “happen what may, I am as + irrevocably engaged by this written promise, which I beg you to keep, + father”—and he handed the paper to Father d’Aigrigny + “as by the legal document, which I am about to sign,” he + added, turning to Rodin. + </p> + <p> + “Silence, my dear son,” said Father d’Aigrigny; “here + is the notary,” just as the latter entered the room. + </p> + <p> + During the interview of the administrative officer with Rodin, Gabriel, + and Father d’Aigrigny, we shall conduct the reader to the interior + of the walled-up house. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0075" id="link2HCH0075"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXII. THE RED ROOM. + </h2> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">A</span>s Samuel had said, + the door of the walled-up house had just been disencumbered of the bricks, + lead, and iron, which had kept it from view, and its panels of carved oak + appeared as fresh and sound, as on the day when they had first been + withdrawn from the influence of the air and time. The laborers, having + completed their work, stood waiting upon the steps, as impatient and + curious as the notary’s clerk, who had superintended the operation, + when they saw Samuel slowly advancing across the garden, with a great + bunch of keys in his hand. + </p> + <p> + “Now, my friends,” said the old man, when he had reached the + steps, “your work is finished. The master of this gentleman will pay + you, and I have only to show you out by the street door.” + </p> + <p> + “Come, come, my good fellow,” cried the clerk, “you don’t + think. We are just at the most interesting and curious moment; I and these + honest masons are burning to see the interior of this mysterious house, + and you would be cruel enough to send us away? Impossible!” + </p> + <p> + “I regret the necessity, sir, but so it must he. I must be the first + to enter this dwelling, absolutely alone, before introducing the heirs, in + order to read the testament.” + </p> + <p> + “And who gave you such ridiculous and barbarous orders?” cried + the clerk, singularly disappointed. + </p> + <p> + “My father, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “A most respectable authority, no doubt; but come, my worthy + guardian, my excellent guardian,” resumed the clerk, “be a + good fellow, and let us just take a peep in at the door.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes, sir, only a peep!” cried the heroes of the trowel, + with a supplicating air. + </p> + <p> + “It is disagreeable to have to refuse you, gentlemen,” + answered Samuel; “but I cannot open this door, until I am alone.” + </p> + <p> + The masons, seeing the inflexibility of the old man, unwillingly descended + the steps; but the clerk had resolved to dispute the ground inch by inch, + and exclaimed: “I shall wait for my master. I do not leave the house + without him. He may want me—and whether I remain on these steps or + elsewhere, can be of little consequence to you my worthy keeper.” + </p> + <p> + The clerk was interrupted in his appeal by his master himself, who called + out from the further side of the courtyard, with an air of business: + “M. Piston! quick, M. Piston—come directly!” + </p> + <p> + “What the devil does he want with me?” cried the clerk, in a + passion. “He calls me just at the moment when I might have seen + something.” + </p> + <p> + “M. Piston,” resumed the voice, approaching, “do you not + hear?” + </p> + <p> + While Samuel let out the masons, the clerk saw, through a clump of trees, + his master running towards him bareheaded, and with an air of singular + haste and importance. The clerk was therefore obliged to leave the steps, + to answer the notary’s summons, towards whom he went with a very bad + grace. + </p> + <p> + “Sir, sir,” said M. Dumesnil, “I have been calling you + this hour with all my might.” + </p> + <p> + “I did not hear you sir,” said M. Piston. + </p> + <p> + “You must be deaf, then. Have you any change about you?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes sir,” answered the clerk, with some surprise. + </p> + <p> + “Well, then, you must go instantly to the nearest stamp-office, and + fetch me three or four large sheets of stamped paper, to draw up a deed. + Run! it is wanted directly.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir,” said the clerk, casting a rueful and regretful + glance at the door of the walled-up house. + </p> + <p> + “But make haste, will you, M. Piston,” said the notary. + </p> + <p> + “I do not know, sir, where to get any stamped paper.” + </p> + <p> + “Here is the guardian,” replied M. Dumesnil. “He will no + doubt be able to tell you.” + </p> + <p> + At this instant, Samuel was returning, after showing the masons out by the + street-door. + </p> + <p> + “Sir,” said the notary to him, “will you please to tell + me where we can get stamped paper?” + </p> + <p> + “Close by, sir,” answered Samuel; “in the tobacconist’s, + No. 17, Rue Vieille-du-Temple.” + </p> + <p> + “You hear, M. Piston?” said the notary to his clerk. “You + can get the stamps at the tobacconist’s, No. 17, Rue + Vieille-du-Temple. Be quick! for this deed must be executed immediately + before the opening of the will. Time presses.” + </p> + <p> + “Very well, sir; I will make haste,” answered the clerk, + discontentedly, as he followed his master, who hurried back into the room + where he had left Rodin, Gabriel, and Father d’Aigrigny. + </p> + <p> + During this time, Samuel, ascending the steps, had reached the door, now + disencumbered of the stone, iron, and lead with which it had been blocked + up. It was with deep emotion that the old man having selected from his + bunch of keys the one he wanted, inserted it in the keyhole, and made the + door turn upon its hinges. Immediately he felt on his face a current of + damp, cold air, like that which exhales from a cellar suddenly opened. + Having carefully re-closed and double-locked the door, the Jew advanced + along the hall, lighted by a glass trefoil over the arch of the door. The + panes had lost their transparency by the effect of time, and now had the + appearance of ground-glass. This hall, paved with alternate squares of + black and white marble, was vast, sonorous, and contained a broad + staircase leading to the first story. The walls of smooth stone offered + not the least appearance of decay or dampness; the stair-rail of wrought + iron presented no traces of rust; it was inserted, just above the bottom + step, into a column of gray granite, which sustained a statue of black + marble, representing a negro bearing a flambeau. This statue had a strange + countenance, the pupils of the eyes being made of white marble. + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:65%;"> + <img src="images/20223m.jpg" alt="20223m” width=" /><br /> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/20223.jpg"><i>Original</i></a> + </h5> + <p> + The Jew’s heavy tread echoed beneath the lofty dome of the hall. The + grandson of Isaac Samuel experienced a melancholy feeling, as he reflected + that the footsteps of his ancestor had probably been the last which had + resounded through this dwelling, of which he had closed the doors a + hundred and fifty years before; for the faithful friend, in favor of whom + M. de Rennepont had made a feigned transfer of the property, had + afterwards parted with the same, to place it in the name of Samuel’s + grandfather, who had transmitted it to his descendants, as if it had been + his own inheritance. + </p> + <p> + To these thoughts, in which Samuel was wholly absorbed, was joined the + remembrance of the light seen that morning through the seven openings in + the leaden cover of the belvedere; and, in spite of the firmness of his + character, the old man could not repress a shudder, as, taking a second + key from his bunch, and reading upon the label, The Key of the Red Room, + he opened a pair of large folding doors, leading to the inner apartments. + The window which, of all those in the house, had alone been opened, + lighted this large room, hung with damask, the deep purple of which had + undergone no alteration. A thick Turkey carpet covered the floor, and + large arm-chairs of gilded wood, in the severe Louis XIV. style, were + symmetrically arranged along the wall. A second door, leading to the next + room, was just opposite the entrance. The wainscoting and the cornice were + white, relieved with fillets and mouldings of burnished gold. On each side + of this door was a large piece of buhl-furniture, inlaid with brass and + porcelain, supporting ornamental sets of sea crackle vases. The window was + hung with heavy deep-fringed damask curtains, surmounted by scalloped + drapery, with silk tassels, directly opposite the chimney-piece of + dark-gray marble, adorned with carved brass-work. Rich chandeliers, and a + clock in the same style as the furniture, were reflected in a large Venice + glass, with basiled edges. A round table, covered with a cloth of crimson + velvet, was placed in the centre of this saloon. + </p> + <p> + As he approached this table, Samuel perceived a piece of white vellum, on + which were inscribed these words: “My testament is to be opened in + this saloon. The other apartments are to remain closed, until after the + reading of my last will—M. De R.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said the Jew, as he perused with emotion these lines + traced so long ago; “this is the same recommendation as that which I + received from my father; for it would seem that the other apartments of + this house are filled with objects, on which M. de Rennepont set a high + value, not for their intrinsic worth, but because of their origin. The + Hall of Mourning must be a strange and mysterious chamber. Well,” + added Samuel, as he drew from his pocket a register bound in black + shagreen, with a brass lock, from which he drew the key, after placing it + upon the table, “here is the statement of the property in hand, + which I have been ordered to bring hither, before the arrival of the + heirs.” + </p> + <p> + The deepest silence reigned in the room, at the moment when Samuel placed + the register on the table. Suddenly a simple and yet most startling + occurrence roused him from his reverie. In the next apartment was heard + the clear, silvery tone of a clock, striking slowly ten. And the hour was + ten! Samuel had too much sense to believe in perpetual motion, or in the + possibility of constructing a clock to go far one hundred and fifty years. + He asked himself, therefore, with surprise and alarm, how this clock could + still be going, and how it could mark so exactly the hour of the day. + Urged with restless curiosity, the old man was about to enter the room; + but recollecting the recommendation of his father, which had now been + confirmed by the few lines he had just read from De Rennepont’s pen, + he stopped at the door, and listened with extreme attention. + </p> + <p> + He heard nothing—absolutely nothing, but the last dying vibration of + the clock. After having long reflected upon this strange fact, Samuel, + comparing it with the no less extraordinary circumstance of the light + perceived that morning through the apertures in the belvedere, concluded + that there must be some connection between these two incidents. If the old + man could not penetrate the true cause of these extraordinary appearances, + he at least explained them to himself, by remembering the subterraneous + communications, which, according to tradition, were said to exist between + the cellars of this house and distant places; and he conjectured that + unknown and mysterious personages thus gained access to it two or three + times in a century. Absorbed in these thoughts Samuel approached the + fireplace, which, as we have said, was directly opposite the window. Just + then, a bright ray of sunlight, piercing the clouds, shone full upon two + large portraits, hung upon either side of the fireplace, and not before + remarked by the Jew. They were painted life size, and represented one a + woman, the other a man. By the sober yet powerful coloring of these + paintings, by the large and vigorous style, it was easy to recognize a + master’s hand. It would have been difficult to find models more + fitted to inspire a great painter. The woman appeared to be from + five-and-twenty to thirty years of age. Magnificent brown hair, with + golden tints, crooned a forehead, white, noble, and lofty. Her head-dress, + far from recalling the fashion, which Madame de Sevigne brought in during + the age of Louis XIV., reminded one rather of some of the portraits of + Paul Veronese, in which the hair encircles the face in broad, undulating + bands, surmounted by a thick plait, like a crown, at the back of the head. + The eyebrows, finely pencilled, were arched over large eyes of bright, + sapphire blue. Their gaze at once proud and mournful, had something fatal + about it. The nose, finely formed, terminated in slight dilated nostrils: + a half smile, almost of pain, contracted the mouth; the face was a long + oval, and the complexion, extremely pale, was hardly shaded on the cheek + by a light rose-color. The position of the head and neck announced a rare + mixture of grace and dignity. A sort of tunic or robe, of glossy black + material, came as high as the commencement of her shoulders, and just + marking her lithe and tall figure, reached down to her feet, which were + almost entirely concealed by the folds of this garment. + </p> + <p> + The attitude was full of nobleness and simplicity. The head looked white + and luminous, standing out from a dark gray sky, marbled at the horizon by + purple clouds, upon which were visible the bluish summits of distant + hills, in deep shadow. The arrangement of the picture, as well as the warm + tints of the foreground, contrasting strongly with these distant objects, + showed that the woman was placed upon an eminence, from which she could + view the whole horizon. The countenance was deeply pensive and desponding. + There was an expression of supplicating and resigned grief, particularly + in her look, half raised to heaven, which one would have thought + impossible to picture. On the left side of the fireplace was the other + portrait, painted with like vigor. It represented a man, between thirty + and thirty-five years of age, of tall stature. A large brown cloak, which + hung round him in graceful folds, did not quite conceal a black doublet, + buttoned up to the neck, over which fell a square white collar. The + handsome and expressive head was marked with stern powerful lines, which + did not exclude an admirable air of suffering, resignation, and ineffable + goodness. The hair, as well as the beard and eyebrows, was black; and the + latter, by some singular caprice of nature, instead of being separated and + forming two distinct arches, extended from one temple to the other, in a + single bow, and seemed to mark the forehead of this man with a black line. + </p> + <p> + The background of this picture also represented a stormy sky; but, beyond + some rocks in the distance, the sea was visible, and appeared to mingle + with the dark clouds. The sun, just now shining upon these two remarkable + figures (which it appeared impossible to forget, after once seeing them), + augmented their brilliancy. + </p> + <p> + Starting from his reverie, and casting his eyes by chance upon these + portraits, Samuel was greatly struck with them. They appeared almost + alive. “What noble and handsome faces!” he exclaimed, as he + approached to examine them more closely. “Whose are these portraits? + They are not those of any of the Rennepont family, for my father told me + that they are all in the Hall of Mourning. Alas!” added the old man, + “one might think, from the great sorrow expressed in their + countenances, that they ought to have a place in that mourning-chamber.” + </p> + <p> + After a moment’s silence, Samuel resumed: “Let me prepare + everything for this solemn assembly, for it has struck ten.” So + saying, he placed the gilded arm-chairs round the table, and then + continued, with a pensive air: “The hour approaches, and of the + descendants of my grandfather’s benefactor, we have seen only this + young priest, with the angelic countenance. Can he be the sole + representative of the Rennepont family? He is a priest, and this family + will finish with him! Well! the moment is come when I must open this door, + that the will may be read. Bathsheba is bringing hither the notary. They + knock at the door; it is time!” And Samuel, after casting a last + glance towards the place where the clock had struck ten, hastened to the + outer door, behind which voices were now audible. + </p> + <p> + He turned the key twice in the lock, and threw the portals open. To his + great regret, he saw only Gabriel on the steps, between Rodin and Father d’Aigrigny. + The notary, and Bathsheba, who had served them as a guide, waited a little + behind the principal group. + </p> + <p> + Samuel could not repress a sigh, as he stood bowing on the threshold, and + said to them: “All is ready, gentlemen. You may walk in.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0076" id="link2HCH0076"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXIII. THE TESTAMENT. + </h2> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">W</span>hen Gabriel, + Rodin, and Father d’Aigrigny entered the Red Room, they were + differently affected. Gabriel, pale and sad, felt a kind of painful + impatience. He was anxious to quit this house, though he had already + relieved himself of a great weight, by executing before the notary, + secured by every legal formality, a deed making over all his rights of + inheritance to Father d’Aigrigny. Until now it had not occurred to + the young priest, that in bestowing the care upon him, which he was about + to reward so generously, and in forcing his vocation by a sacrilegious + falsehood, the only object of Father d’Aigrigny might have been to + secure the success of a dark intrigue. In acting as he did, Gabriel was + not yielding, in his view of the question, to a sentiment of exaggerated + delicacy. He had made this donation freely, many years before. He would + have looked upon it as infamy now to withdraw it. It was hard enough to be + suspected of cowardice: for nothing in the world would he have incurred + the least reproach of cupidity. + </p> + <p> + The missionary must have been endowed with a very rare and excellent + nature, or this flower of scrupulous probity would have withered beneath + the deleterious and demoralizing influence of his education; but happily, + as cold sometimes preserves from corruption, the icy atmosphere in which + he had passed a portion of his childhood and youth had benumbed, but not + vitiated, his generous qualities, which had indeed soon revived in the + warm air of liberty. Father d’Aigrigny, much paler and more agitated + than Gabriel, strove to excuse and explain his anxiety by attributing it + to the sorrow he experienced at the rupture of his dear son with the + Order. Rodin, calm, and perfectly master of himself, saw with secret rage + the strong emotion of Father d’Aigrigny, which might have inspired a + man less confiding than Gabriel with strange suspicions. Yet, + notwithstanding his apparent indifference, the socius was perhaps still + more ardently impatient than his superior for the success of this + important affair. Samuel appeared quite desponding, no other heir but + Gabriel having presented himself. No doubt the old man felt a lively + sympathy for the young priest; but then he was a priest, and with him + would finish the line of Rennepont; and this immense fortune, accumulated + with so much labor, would either be again distributed, or employed + otherwise than the testator had desired. The different actors in this + scene were standing around the table. As they were about to seat + themselves, at the invitation of the notary, Samuel pointed to the + register bound in black shagreen, and said: “I was ordered, sir, to + deposit here this register. It is locked. I will deliver up the key, + immediately after the reading of the will.” + </p> + <p> + “This course is, in fact, directed by the note which accompanies the + will,” said M. Dumesnil, “as it was deposited, in the year + 1682, in the hands of Master Thomas Le Semelier, king’s counsel, and + notary of the Chatelet of Paris, then living at No. 13, Place Royale.” + </p> + <p> + So saying, M. Dumesnil drew from a portfolio of red morocco a large + parchment envelope, grown yellow with time; to this envelope was annexed, + by a silken thread, a note also upon vellum. + </p> + <p> + “Gentlemen,” said the notary, “if you please to sit + down, I will read the subjoined note, to regulate the formalities at the + opening of the will.” + </p> + <p> + The notary, Rodin, Father d’Aigrigny, and Gabriel, took seats. The + young priest, having his back turned to the fireplace, could not see the + two portraits. In spite of the notary’s invitation, Samuel remained + standing behind the chair of that functionary, who read as follows: + </p> + <p> + “‘On the 13th February, 1832, my will shall be carried to No. + 3, in the Rue Saint-Francois. + </p> + <p> + “‘At ten o’clock precisely, the door of the Red Room + shall be opened to my heirs, who will no doubt have arrived long before at + Paris, in anticipation of this day, and will have had time to establish + their line of descent. + </p> + <p> + “‘As soon as they are assembled, the will shall be read, and, + at the last stroke of noon, the inheritance shall be finally settled in + favor of those of my kindred, who according to my recommendation + (preserved, I hope, by tradition in my family, during a century and a + half); shall present themselves in person, and not by agents, before + twelve o’clock, on the 13th of February, in the Rue Saint-Francois.’” + </p> + <p> + Having read these words in a sonorous voice, the notary stopped an + instant, and resumed, in a solemn tone: “M. Gabriel Francois Marie + de Rennepont, priest, having established, by legal documents, his descent + on the father’s side, and his relationship to the testator, and + being at this hour the only one of the descendants of the Rennepont family + here present, I open the testament in his presence, as it has been + ordered.” + </p> + <p> + So saying, the notary drew from its envelope the will, which had been + previously opened by the President of the Tribunal, with the formalities + required by law. Father d’Aigrigny leaned forward, and resting his + elbow on the table, seemed to pant for breath. Gabriel prepared himself to + listen with more curiosity than interest. Rodin was seated at some + distance from the table, with his old hat between his knees, in the bottom + of which, half hidden by the folds of a shabby blue cotton handkerchief, + he had placed his watch. The attention of the socius was divided between + the least noise from without, and the slow evolution of the hands of the + watch, which he followed with his little, wrathful eye, as if hastening + their progress, so great was his impatience for the hour of noon. + </p> + <p> + The notary, unfolding the sheet of parchment, read what follows, in the + midst of profound attention: + </p> + <p> + Hameau de Villetaneuse, + </p> + <p> + “‘February 13th, 1682. + </p> + <p> + “‘I am about to escape, by death, from the disgrace of the + galleys, to which the implacable enemies of my family have caused me to be + condemned as a relapsed heretic. + </p> + <p> + “‘Moreover, life is too bitter for me since the death of my + son, the victim of a mysterious crime. + </p> + <p> + “‘At nineteen years of age—poor henry!—and his + murderers unknown—no, not unknown—if I may trust my + presentiments. + </p> + <p> + “‘To preserve my fortune for my son, I had feigned to abjure + the Protestant faith. As long as that beloved boy lived, I scrupulously + kept up Catholic appearances. The imposture revolted me, but the interest + of my son was concerned. + </p> + <p> + “‘When they killed him, this deceit became insupportable to + me. I was watched, accused, and condemned as relapsed. My property has + been confiscated, and I am sentenced to the galleys. + </p> + <p> + “‘Tis a terrible time we live in! Misery and servitude! + sanguinary despotism and religious intolerance! Oh, it is sweet to abandon + life! sweet to rest and see no more such evils and such sorrows! + </p> + <p> + “‘In a few hours, I shall enjoy that rest. I shall die. Let me + think of those who will survive—or rather, of those who will live + perhaps in better times. + </p> + <p> + “‘Out of all my fortune, there remains to me a sum of fifty + thousand crowns, deposited in a friend’s hands. + </p> + <p> + “‘I have no longer a son; but I have numerous relations, + exiled in various parts of Europe. This sum of fifty thousand crowns, + divided between them, would profit each of them very little. I have + disposed of it differently. + </p> + <p> + “‘In this I have followed the wise counsels of a man, whom I + venerate as the image of God on earth, for his intelligence, wisdom, and + goodness are almost divine. + </p> + <p> + “‘Twice in the course of my life have I seen this man, under + very fatal circumstances—twice have I owed him safety, once of the + soul, once of the body. + </p> + <p> + “‘Alas! he might perhaps have saved my poor child, but he came + too late—too late. + </p> + <p> + “‘Before he left me, he wished to divert me from the intention + of dying—for he knew all. But his voice was powerless. My grief, my + regret, my discouragement, were too much for him. + </p> + <p> + “‘It is strange! when he was convinced of my resolution to + finish my days by violence, some words of terrible bitterness escaped him, + making me believe that he envied me—my fate—my death! + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:65%;"> + <img src="images/20231m.jpg" alt="20231m” width=" /><br /> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/20231.jpg"><i>Original</i></a> + </h5> + <p> + “‘Is he perhaps condemned to live? + </p> + <p> + “‘Yes; he has, no doubt, condemned himself to be useful to + humanity, and yet life is heavy on him, for I heard him repeat one day, + with an expression of despair and weariness that I have never forgotten: + “Life! life! who will deliver me from it?” + </p> + <p> + “‘Is life then so very burdensome to him? + </p> + <p> + “‘He is gone. His last words have made me look for my + departure with serenity. Thanks to him, my death shall not be without + fruit. + </p> + <p> + “‘Thanks to him, these lines, written at this moment by a man + who, in a few hours, will have ceased to live, may perhaps be the parents + of great things a century and a half hence—yes! great and noble + things, if my last will is piously followed by my descendants, for it is + to them that I here address myself. + </p> + <p> + “‘That they may understand and appreciate this last will—which + I commend to the care of the unborn, who dwell in the future whither I am + hastening—they must know the persecutors of my family and avenge + their ancestor, but by a noble vengeance. + </p> + <p> + “‘My grandfather was a Catholic. Induced by perfidious + counsels rather than religious zeal, he attached himself, though a layman, + to a Society whose power has always been terrible and mysterious—the + Society of Jesus—‘” + </p> + <p> + At these words of the testament, Father d’Aigrigny, Rodin, and + Gabriel looked involuntarily at each other: The notary, who had not + perceived this action, continued to read: + </p> + <p> + “‘After some years, during which he had never ceased to + profess the most absolute devotion to this Society, he was suddenly + enlightened by fearful revelations as to the secret ends it pursued, and + the means it employed. + </p> + <p> + “‘This was in 1510, a month before the assassination of Henry + IV. “‘My grandfather, terrified at the secret of which he had + become the unwilling depositary, and which was to be fully explained by + the death of the best of kings, not only broke with the Society, but, as + if Catholicism itself had been answerable for the crimes of its members, + he abandoned the Romish religion, in which he had hitherto lived, and + became a Protestant. + </p> + <p> + “‘Undeniable proofs, attesting the connivance of two members + of the Company with Ravaillac, a connivance also proved in the case of + Jean Chatel, the regicide, were in my grandfather’s possession. + </p> + <p> + “‘This was the first cause of the violent hatred of the + Society for our family. Thank Heaven, these papers have been placed in + safety, and if my last will is executed, will be found marked A. M.C. D. + G., in the ebony casket in the Hall of Mourning, in the house in the Rue + Saint-Francois. + </p> + <p> + “‘My father was also exposed to these secret persecutions. His + ruin, and perhaps his death, would have been the consequence, had it not + been for the intervention of an angelic woman, towards whom he felt an + almost religious veneration. + </p> + <p> + “‘The portrait of this woman, whom I saw a few years ago, as + well as that of the man whom I hold in the greatest reverence, were + painted by me from memory, and have been placed in the Red Room in the Rue + Saint-Francois—to be gratefully valued, I hope, by the descendants + of my family.’” + </p> + <p> + For some moments Gabriel had become more and more attentive to the reading + of this testament. He thought within himself by how strange a coincidence + one of his ancestors had, two centuries before, broken with the Society of + Jesus, as he himself had just done; and that from this rupture, two + centuries old, dated also that species of hatred with which the Society of + Jesus had always pursued his family. Nor did the young priest find it less + strange that this inheritance, transmitted to him after a lapse of a + hundred and fifty years, from one of his kindred (the victim of the + Society of Jesus), should return by a voluntary act to the coffers of this + same society. When the notary read the passage relative to the two + portraits, Gabriel, who, like Father d’Aigrigny, sat with his back + towards the pictures, turned round to look at them. Hardly had the + missionary cast his eyes on the portrait of the woman, than he uttered a + loud cry of surprise, and almost terror. The notary paused in his reading, + and looked uneasily at the young priest. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0077" id="link2HCH0077"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXIV. THE LAST STROKE OF NOON. + </h2> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">A</span>t the cry uttered + by Gabriel, the notary had stopped reading the testament, and Father d’Aigrigny + hastily drew near the young priest. The latter rose trembling from his + seat and gazed with increasing stupor at the female portrait. + </p> + <p> + Then he said in a low voice, as if speaking to himself. “Good + Heaven! is it possible that nature can produce such resemblances? Those + eyes—so proud and yet so sad—that forehead—that pale + complexion—yes, all her features, are the same—all of them!” + </p> + <p> + “My dear son, what is the matter?” said Father d’Aigrigny, + as astonished as Samuel and the notary. + </p> + <p> + “Eight months ago,” replied the missionary, in a voice of deep + emotion, without once taking his eyes from the picture, “I was in + the power of the Indians, in the heart of the Rocky Mountains. They had + crucified, and were beginning to scalp me; I was on the point of death, + when Divine Providence sent me unexpected aid—sent me this woman for + a deliverer.” + </p> + <p> + “That woman!” cried Samuel, Father d’Aigrigny, and the + notary, all together. + </p> + <p> + Rodin alone appeared completely indifferent to this episode of the + picture. His face contracted with angry impatience, he bit his nails to + the quick, as he contemplated with agony the slow progress of the hands of + his watch. + </p> + <p> + “What! that woman saved your life?” resumed Father d’Aigrigny. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, this woman,” replied Gabriel, in a still lower and more + trembling voice; “this woman—or rather a woman so much + resembling her, that if this picture had not been here for a century and a + half, I should have felt sure it was the same—nor can I explain to + myself that so striking a resemblance could be the effect of chance. Well,” + added he, after a moment’s silence, as he heaved a profound sigh, + “the mysteries of Nature, and the will of God, are impenetrable.” + </p> + <p> + Gabriel fell back into his chair, in the midst of a general silence, which + was broken by Father d’Aigrigny saying, “It is a case of + extraordinary resemblance; that is all, my dear son. Only, the natural + gratitude which you feel towards your benefactress, makes you take a deep + interest in this singular coincidence.” + </p> + <p> + Rodin, bursting with impatience, here said to the notary, by whose side he + stood, “It seems to me, sir, that all this little romance has + nothing to do with the testament.” + </p> + <p> + “You are right,” answered the notary, resuming his seat; + “but the fact is so extraordinary, and as you say, romantic, that + one cannot help sharing in this gentleman’s astonishment.” + </p> + <p> + He pointed to Gabriel, who, with his elbow resting on the arms of the + chair, leaned his forehead upon his hand, apparently quite absorbed in + thought. The notary continued the reading of the will, as follows: + </p> + <p> + “‘Such are the persecutions to which my family has been + exposed on the part of the Society of Jesus. + </p> + <p> + “‘The Society possesses at this hour the whole of my + confiscated property. I am about to die. May its hatred perish with me, + and spare my kindred, whose fate at this solemn moment is my last and only + thought. + </p> + <p> + “‘This morning I sent for a man of long tried probity Isaac + Samuel. He owes his life to me, and every day I congratulate myself on + having been able to preserve to the world so honest and excellent a + creature. + </p> + <p> + “‘Before the confiscation of my property, Isaac Samuel had + long managed it with as much intelligence as uprightness. I have entrusted + him with the fifty thousand crowns, returned to me by a faithful friend. + Isaac Samuel, and his descendants after him, to whom he will leave this + debt of gratitude, will invest the above sum, and allow it to accumulate, + until the expiration of the hundred and fiftieth year from this time. + </p> + <p> + “‘The amount thus accumulated may become enormous, and + constitute a royal fortune, if no unfavorable event should occur. May my + descendants attend to my wishes, as to the division and employment of this + immense sum! + </p> + <p> + “‘In a century and a half, there happen so many changes, so + many varieties of fortunes, such a rise and fall in the condition of the + successive generations of a family, that probably, a hundred and fifty + years hence, my descendants will belong to various classes of society, and + thus represent the divers social elements of their time. + </p> + <p> + “‘There may, perhaps, be among them men of great intelligence + great courage, or great virtue—learned men, or names illustrious in + arts and arms. There may, perhaps, also be obscure workmen, or humble + citizens—perhaps, also, alas! great criminals. + </p> + <p> + “‘However, this may be, my most earnest desire is that my + descendants should combine together, and, reconstituting one family, by a + close and sincere union, put into practice the divine words of Christ, + “Love ye one another.” + </p> + <p> + “‘This union would have a salutary tendency; for it seems to + me that upon union, upon the association of men together, must depend the + future happiness of mankind. + </p> + <p> + “‘The Company, which so long persecuted my family, is one of + the most striking examples of the power of association, even when applied + to evil. + </p> + <p> + “‘There is something so fruitful and divine in this principle, + that it sometimes forces to good the worst and most dangerous + combinations. + </p> + <p> + “‘Thus, the missions have thrown a scanty but pure and + generous light on the darkness of this Company of Jesus—founded with + the detestable and impious aim of destroying, by a homicidal education, + all will, thought, liberty, and intelligence, in the people, so as to + deliver them, trembling, superstitious, brutal, and helpless, to the + despotism of kings, governed in their turn by confessors belonging to the + Society.’” + </p> + <p> + At this passage of the will, there was another strange look exchanged + between Gabriel and Father d’Aigrigny. The notary continued: + </p> + <p> + “‘If a perverse association, based upon the degradation of + humanity, upon fear and despotism, and followed by the maledictions of the + people, has survived for centuries, and often governed the world by craft + and terror—how would it be with an association, which, taking + fraternity and evangelic love for its means, had for its end to deliver + man and woman from all degrading slavery, to invite to the enjoyment of + terrestrial happiness those who have hitherto known nothing of life but + its sorrows and miseries, and to glorify and enrich the labor that feeds + the state?—to enlighten those whom ignorance has depraved?—to + favor the free expansion of all the passions, which God, in His infinite + wisdom, and inexhaustible goodness, gave to man as so many powerful + levers?—to sanctify all the gifts of Heaven: love, maternity, + strength, intelligence, beauty, genius?—to make men truly religious, + and deeply grateful to their Creator, by making them understand the + splendors of Nature, and bestowing on them their rightful share in the + treasures which have been poured upon us? + </p> + <p> + “‘Oh! if it be Heaven’s will that, in a century and a + half, the descendants of my family, faithful to the last wishes of a heart + that loved humanity, meet in this sacred union!—if it be Heaven’s + will that amongst them be found charitable and passionate souls, full of + commiseration for those who suffer, and lofty minds, ardent for liberty! + warm and eloquent natures! resolute characters! women, who unite beauty + and wit with goodness—oh! then, how fruitful, how powerful will be + the harmonious union of all these ideas, and influences, and forces—of + all these attractions grouped round that princely fortune, which, + concentrated by association, and wisely managed, would render practicable + the most admirable Utopias! + </p> + <p> + “‘What a wondrous centre of fertile and generous thoughts! + What precious and life-giving rays would stream incessantly from this + focus of charity, emancipation, and love! What great things might be + attempted what magnificent examples given to the world! What a divine + mission! What an irresistible tendency towards good might be impressed on + the whole human race by a family thus situated, and in possession of such + means! + </p> + <p> + “‘And, then, such a beneficent association would be able to + combat the fatal conspiracy of which I am the victim, and which, in a + century and a half, may have lost none of its formidable power. + </p> + <p> + “‘So, to this work of darkness, restraint, and despotism, + which weighs heavily on the Christian world, my family would oppose their + work of light, expansion, and liberty! + </p> + <p> + “‘The genii of good and evil would stand face to face. The + struggle would commence, and God would protect the right. + </p> + <p> + “‘And that these immense pecuniary resources, which will give + so much power to my family, may not be exhausted by the course of years, + my heirs, following my last will, are to place out, upon the same + conditions, double the sum that I have invested—so that, a century + and a half later, a new source of power and action will be at the disposal + of their descendants. What a perpetuity of good! + </p> + <p> + “‘In the ebony cabinet of the Hall of Mourning will be found + some practical suggestions on the subject of this association. + </p> + <p> + “‘Such is my last will—or rather, such are my last + hopes. + </p> + <p> + “‘When I require absolutely that the members of my family + should appear in person in the Rue Saint-Francois, on the day of the + opening of this testament, it is so that, united in that solemn moment, + they may see and know each other. My words may then, perhaps, have some + effect upon them; and, instead of living divided, they will combine + together. It will be for their own interest, and my wishes will thus be + accomplished. + </p> + <p> + “‘When I sent, a few days ago, to those of my family whom + exile has dispersed over Europe, a medal on which is engravers the date of + the convocation of my heirs, a century and a half from this time, I was + forced to keep secret my true motive, and only to tell them, that my + descendants would find it greatly to their interest to attend this + meeting. + </p> + <p> + “‘I have acted thus, because I know the craft and perseverance + of the society of which I have been the victim. If they could guess that + my descendants would hereafter have to divide immense sums between them, + my family would run the risk of much fraud and malice, through the fatal + recommendations handed down from age to age in the Society of Jesus. + </p> + <p> + “‘May these precautions be successful! May the wish, expressed + upon these medals, be faithfully transmitted from generation to + generation! + </p> + <p> + “‘If I fix a day and hour, in which my inheritance shall + irrevocably fall to those of my descendants who shall appear in the Rue + Saint-Francois on the 13th February, in 1832, it is that all delays must + have a term, and that my heirs will have been sufficiently informed years + before of the great importance of this meeting. + </p> + <p> + “‘After the reading of my testament, the person who shall then + be the trustee of the accumulated funds, shall make known their amount, so + that, with the last stroke of noon, they may be divided between my heirs + then and there present. + </p> + <p> + “‘The different apartments of the house shall then be opened + to them. They will see in them divers objects, well worthy of interest, + pity, and respect—particularly in the Hall of Mourning. + </p> + <p> + “‘My desire is, that the house may not be sold, but that it + may remain furnished as it is, and serve as a place of meeting for my + descendants, if, as I hope, they attend to my last wishes. + </p> + <p> + “‘If, on the contrary, they are divided amongst themselves—if, + instead of uniting for one of the most generous enterprises that ever + signalized an age, they yield to the influence of selfish passions—if + they prefer a sterile individuality to a fruitful association—if, in + this immense fortune, they see only an opportunity for frivolous + dissipation, or sordid interest—may they be accursed by all those + whom they might have loved, succored, and disfettered!—and then let + this house be utterly demolished and destroyed, and the papers, of which + Isaac Samuel possesses the inventory, as well as the two portraits in the + Red Room, be burnt by the guardian of the property. + </p> + <p> + “‘I have spoken. My duty is accomplished. In all this, I have + followed the counsels of the man whom I revere and love as the image of + God upon earth. + </p> + <p> + “‘The faithful friend, who preserved for me the fifty thousand + crowns, the wreck of my fortune, knows the use I mean to make of them. I + could not refuse his friendship this mark of confidence. But I have + concealed from him the name of Isaac Samuel—for to have mentioned it + might have exposed this latter and his descendants to great dangers. + </p> + <p> + “‘In a short time, this friend, who knows not that my + resolution to die is so near its accomplishment, will come hither with my + notary. Into their hands, after the usual formalities, I shall deliver my + sealed testament. + </p> + <p> + “‘Such is my last will. I leave its execution to the + superintending care of Providence. God will protect the cause of love, + peace, union, and liberty. + </p> + <p> + “‘This mystic testament,(20) having been freely made by me, + and written entirely with my own hand, I intend and will its scrupulous + execution both in spirit and the letter. + </p> + <p> + “‘This 13th day of February, 1682, at one o’clock in the + afternoon. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “‘MARIUS DE RENNEPONT.’” + </pre> + <p> + As the notary had proceeded with the reading of the testament, Gabriel was + successively agitated by divers painful impressions. At first, as we have + before said, he was struck with the singular fatality which restored this + immense fortune, derived from a victim of the Society of Jesus, to the + hands of that very association, by the renewal of his deed of gift. Then, + as his charitable and lofty soul began fully to comprehend the admirable + tendency of the association so earnestly recommended by Marius de + Rennepont, he reflected with bitter remorse, that, in consequence of his + act of renunciation, and of the absence of any other heir, this great idea + would never be realized, and a fortune, far more considerable than had + even been expected, would fall to the share of an ill-omened society, in + whose hands it would become a terrible means of action. At the same time, + it must be said that the soul of Gabriel was too pure and noble to feel + the slightest personal regret, on hearing the great probable value of the + property he had renounced. He rejoiced rather in withdrawing his mind, by + a touching contrast, from the thought of the wealth he had abandoned, to + the humble parsonage, where he hoped to pass the remainder of his life, in + the practice of most evangelical virtue. + </p> + <p> + These ideas passed confusedly through his brain. The sight of that woman’s + portrait, the dark revelations contained in the testament, the grandeur of + the views exhibited in this last will of M. de Rennepont, all these + extraordinary incidents had thrown Gabriel into a sort of stupor, in which + he was still plunged, when Samuel offered the key of the register to the + notary, saying: “You will find, sir, in this register, the exact + statement of the sums in my possession, derived from the investment and + accumulation of the one hundred and fifty thousand francs, entrusted to my + grandfather by M. Marius de Rennepont.” + </p> + <p> + “Your grandfather!” cried Father d’Aigrigny, with the + utmost surprise; “it is then your family that has always had the + management of this property.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir; and, in a few minutes, my wife will bring hither the + casket which contains the vouchers.” + </p> + <p> + “And to what sum does this property amount?” asked Rodin, with + an air of the most complete indifference. + </p> + <p> + “As M. Notary may convince himself by this statement,” replied + Samuel, with perfect frankness, and as if he were only talking of the + original one hundred and fifty thousand francs, “I have in my + possession various current securities to the amount of two hundred and + twelve millions, one hundred and seventy—” + </p> + <p> + “You say, sir’” cried Father d’Aigrigny, without + giving Samuel time to finish, for the odd money did not at all interest + his reverence. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, the sum!” added Rodin, in an agitated voice, and, for + the first time, perhaps, in his life losing his presence of mind; “the + sum—the sum—the sum!” + </p> + <p> + “I say, sir,” resumed the old man, “that I hold + securities for two hundred and twelve millions, one hundred and + seventy-five thousand francs, payable to self or bearer—as you may + soon convince yourself, M. Notary, for here is my wife with the casket.” + </p> + <p> + Indeed, at this moment, Bathsheba entered, holding in her arms the cedar + wood chest, which contained the securities in question; she placed it upon + the table, and withdrew, after exchanging an affectionate glance with + Samuel. When the latter declared the enormous amount of the sum in hand, + his words were received with silent stupor. All the actors in this scene, + except himself, believed that they were the sport of some delusion. Father + d’Aigrigny and Rodin had counted upon forty millions. This sum, in + itself enormous, was more than quintupled. Gabriel, when he heard the + notary read those passages in the testament, which spoke of a princely + fortune, being quite ignorant of the prodigious effects of eligible + investments, had valued the property at some three or four millions. He + was, therefore, struck dumb with amazement at the exorbitant amount named. + Notwithstanding his admirable disinterestedness and scrupulous honor, he + felt dazzled and giddy at the thought, that all these immense riches might + have belonged to him—alone. The notary, almost as much amazed as + Gabriel, examined the statement, and could hardly believe his eyes. The + Jew also remained mute, and seemed painfully absorbed in thought, that no + other heir made his appearance. + </p> + <p> + In the depth of this profound silence, the clock in the next room began + slowly to strike twelve. Samuel started, and heaved a deep sigh. A few + seconds more, and the fatal term would be at an end. Rodin, Father d’Aigrigny, + Gabriel, and the notary, were all under the influence of such complete + surprise, that not one of them even remarked how strange it was to hear + the sound of this clock. + </p> + <p> + “Noon!” cried Rodin, as, by an involuntary movement, he + hastily placed his two hands upon the casket, as if to take possession of + it. + </p> + <p> + “At last!” cried Father d’Aigrigny, with an expression + of joy, triumph transport, which it is impossible to describe. Then he + added, as he threw himself into Gabriel’s arms, whom he embraced + warmly: “Oh, my dear son! how the poor will bless you! You will be a + second Vincent de Paul. You will be canonized, I promise you.” + </p> + <p> + “Let us first thank Providence,” said Rodin, in a grave and + solemn tone, as he fell upon his knees, “let us thank Providence, + that He has permitted so much wealth to be employed for His glory!”’ + </p> + <p> + Father d’Aigrigny, having again embraced Gabriel, took him by the + hand, and said: “Rodin is right. Let us kneel, my dear son, and + render thanks to Providence!” + </p> + <p> + So saying, Father d’Aigrigny knelt down, dragging Gabriel with him, + and the latter, confused and giddy with so many precipitate events, + yielded mechanically to the impulse. It was the last stroke of twelve when + they all rose together. + </p> + <p> + Then said the notary, in a slightly agitated voice, for there was + something extraordinary and solemn in this scene— + </p> + <p> + “No other heir of M. Marius de Rennepont having presented himself, + before noon on this day, I execute the will of the testator, by declaring, + in the name of law and justice, that M. Francois Marie Gabriel de + Rennepont, here present, is the sole heir and possessor of all the estate, + real and personal, bequeathed under the said will; all which estate the + said Gabriel de Rennepont, priest, has freely and voluntarily made over by + deed of gift to Frederic Emanuel de Bordeville, Marquis d’Aigrigny, + priest, who has accepted the same, and is, therefore, the only legal + holder of such property, in the room of the said Gabriel de Rennepont, by + virtue of the said deed, drawn up and engrossed by me this morning, and + signed in my presence by the said Gabriel de Rennepont and Frederic d’Aigrigny.” + </p> + <p> + At this moment, the sound of loud voices was heard from the garden. + Bathsheba entered hastily, and said to her husband with an agitated air: + “Samuel—a soldier—who insists—” + </p> + <p> + She had not time to finish. Dagobert appeared at the door of the Red Room. + The soldier was fearfully pale. He seemed almost fainting; his left arm + was in a sling, and he leaned upon Agricola. At sight of Dagobert, the + pale and flabby eyelids of Rodin were suddenly distended, as if all the + blood in his body had flowed towards the head. Then the socius threw + himself upon the casket, with the haste of ferocious rage and avidity, as + if he were resolved to cover it with his body, and defend it at the peril + of his life. + </p> + <p> + (20) This term is sanctioned by legal usage. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0078" id="link2HCH0078"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXV. THE DEED OF GIFT. + </h2> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">F</span>ather d’Aigrigny + did not recognize Dagobert, and had never seen Agricola. He could not + therefore, at first explain the kind of angry alarm exhibited by Rodin. + But the reverend father understood it all, when he heard Gabriel utter a + cry of joy, and saw him rush into the arms of the smith, exclaiming: + “My brother! my second father—oh! it is heaven that sends you + to me.” + </p> + <p> + Having pressed Gabriel’s hand, Dagobert advanced towards Father d’Aigrigny, + with a rapid but unsteady step. As he remarked the soldier’s + threatening countenance, the reverend father, strong in his acquired + rights, and feeling that, since noon, he was at home here; drew back a + little, and said imperiously to the veteran: “Who are you, sir!—What + do you want here?” + </p> + <p> + Instead of answering, the soldier continued to advance, then, stopping + just facing Father d’Aigrigny, he looked at him for a second with + such an astounding mixture of curiosity, disdain, aversion, and audacity, + that the ex-colonel of hussars quailed before the pale face and glowing + eye of the veteran. The notary and Samuel, struck with surprise, remained + mute spectators of this scene, while Agricola and Gabriel followed with + anxiety Dagobert’s least movements. As for Rodin, he pretended to be + leaning on the casket, in order still to cover it with his body. + </p> + <p> + Surmounting at length the embarrassment caused by the steadfast look of + the soldier, Father d’Aigrigny raised his head, and repeated. + “I ask you, sir, who you are, and what you want?” + </p> + <p> + “Do you not recognize me?” said Dagobert, hardly able to + restrain himself. + </p> + <p> + “No, sir—” + </p> + <p> + “In truth,” returned the soldier, with profound contempt, + “You cast down your eyes for shame when, at Leipsic, you fought for + the Russians against the French, and when General Simon, covered with + wounds, answered you, renegade that you were, when you asked him for his + sword, ‘I do not surrender to a traitor!’—and dragged + himself along to one of the Russian grenadiers, to whom he yielded up his + weapon. Well! there was then a wounded soldier by the side of General + Simon—I am he.” + </p> + <p> + “In brief, sir, what do you want?” said Father d’Aigrigny, + hardly, able to control himself. + </p> + <p> + “I have come to unmask you—you, that are as false and hateful + a priest, as Gabriel is admirable and beloved by all.” + </p> + <p> + “Sir!” cried the marquis, becoming livid with rage and + emotion. + </p> + <p> + “I tell you, that you are infamous,” resumed the soldier, with + still greater force. “To rob Marshal Simon’s daughters, and + Gabriel, and Mdlle. de Cardoville of their inheritance, you have had + recourse to the most shameful means.” + </p> + <p> + “What do you say?” cried Gabriel. “The daughters of + Marshal Simon?” + </p> + <p> + “Are your relations, my dear boy, as is also that worthy Mdlle. de + Cardoville, the benefactress of Agricola. Now, this priest,” he + added, pointing to Father d’Aigrigny, “has had them shut up—the + one as mad, in a lunatic asylum—the others in a convent. As for you, + my dear boy, I did not hope to find you here, believing that they would + have prevented you, like the others, from coming hither this morning. But, + thank God, you are here, and I arrive in time. I should have been sooner, + but for my wound. I have lost so much blood, that I have done nothing but + faint all the morning.” + </p> + <p> + “Truly!” cried Gabriel, with uneasiness. “I had not + remarked your arm in a sling. What is the wound?” + </p> + <p> + At a sign from Agricola, Dagobert answered: “Nothing; the + consequence of a fall. But here I am, to unveil many infamies.” + </p> + <p> + It is impossible to paint the curiosity, anguish, surprise, or fear, of + the different actors in this scene, as they listened to Dagobert’s + threatening words. But the most overcome was Gabriel. His angelic + countenance was distorted, his knees trembled under him. Struck by the + communication of Dagobert which revealed the existence of other heirs, he + was unable to speak for some time; at length, he cried out, in a tone of + despair: “And it is I—oh, God! I—who am the cause of the + spoliation of this family!” + </p> + <p> + “You, brother?” exclaimed Agricola. + </p> + <p> + “Did they not wish to rob you also?” added Dagobert. + </p> + <p> + “The will,” cried Gabriel, with increasing agony, “gave + the property to those of the heirs that should appear before noon.” + </p> + <p> + “Well?” said Dagobert, alarmed at the emotion of the young + priest. + </p> + <p> + “Twelve o’clock has struck,” resumed the latter. “Of + all the family, I alone was present. Do you understand it now? The term is + expired. The heirs have been thrust aside by me!” + </p> + <p> + “By you!” said Dagobert, stammering with joy. “By you, + my brave boy! then all is well.” + </p> + <p> + “But—” + </p> + <p> + “All is well,” resumed Dagobert, radiant with delight. “You + will share with the others—I know you.” + </p> + <p> + “But all this property I have irrevocably, made over to another,” + cried Gabriel, in despair. + </p> + <p> + “Made over the property!” cried Dagobert, quite petrified. + “To whom, then?—to whom?” + </p> + <p> + “To this gentleman,” said Gabriel, pointing to Father d’Aigrigny. + </p> + <p> + “To him!” exclaimed Dagobert, overwhelmed by the news; “to + him—the renegade—who has always been the evil genius of this + family!” + </p> + <p> + “But, brother,” cried Agricola, “did you then know your + claim to this inheritance?” + </p> + <p> + “No,” answered the young priest, with deep dejection; “no—I + only learned it this morning, from Father d’Aigrigny. He told me, + that he had only recently been informed of my rights, by family papers + long ago found upon me, and sent by our mother to her confessor.” + </p> + <p> + A sudden light seemed to dawn upon the mind of the smith, as he exclaimed: + “I understand it all now. They discovered in these papers, that you + would one day have a chance of becoming rich. Therefore, they interested + themselves about you—therefore, they took you into their college, + where we could never see you—therefore, they deceived you in your + vocation by shameful falsehoods, to force you to become a priest, and to + lead you to make this deed of gift. Oh, sir!” resumed Agricola, + turning towards Father d’Aigrigny, with indignation, “my + father is right—such machinations are indeed infamous!” + </p> + <p> + During this scene, the reverend father and his socius, at first alarmed + and shaken in their audacity, had by degrees recovered all their coolness. + Rodin, still leaning upon the casket, had said a few words in a low voice + to Father d’Aigrigny. So that when Agricola, carried away by his + indignation, reproached the latter with his infamous machinations, he + bowed his head humbly, and answered: “We are bound to forgive + injuries, and offer them to the Lord as a mark of our humility.” + </p> + <p> + Dagobert, confounded at all he had just heard, felt his reason begin to + wander. After so much anxiety, his strength failed beneath this new and + terrible blow. Agricola’s just and sensible words, in connection + with certain passages of the testament, at once enlightened Gabriel as to + the views of Father d’Aigrigny, in taking charge of his education, + and leading him to join the Society of Jesus. For the first time in his + life, Gabriel was able to take in at a glance all the secret springs of + the dark intrigue, of which he had been the victim. Then, indignation and + despair surmounting his natural timidity, the missionary, with flashing + eye, and cheeks inflamed with noble wrath, exclaimed, as he addressed + Father d’Aigrigny: “So, father, when you placed me in one of + your colleges, it was not from any feeling of kindness or commiseration, + but only in the hope of bringing me one day to renounce in favor of your + Order my share in this inheritance; and it did not even suffice you to + sacrifice me to your cupidity, but I must also be rendered the involuntary + instrument of a shameful spoliation! If only I were concerned—if you + only coveted my claim to all this wealth, I should not complain. I am the + minister of a religion which honors and sanctifies poverty; I have + consented to the donation in your favor, and I have not, I could never + have any claim upon it. But property is concerned which belong to poor + orphans, brought from a distant exile by my adopted father, and I will not + see them wronged. But the benefactress of my adopted brother is concerned, + and I will not see her wronged. But the last will of a dying man is + concerned, who, in his ardent love of humanity, bequeathed to his + descendants an evangelic mission—an admirable mission of progress, + love, union, liberty—and I will not see this mission blighted in its + bud. No, no; I tell you, that this his mission shall be accomplished, + though I have to cancel the donation I have made.” + </p> + <p> + On these words, Father d’Aigrigny and Rodin looked at each other + with a slight shrug of the shoulders. At a sign from the socius, the + reverend father began to speak with immovable calmness, in a slow and + sanctified voice, keeping eyes constantly cast down: “There are many + incidents connected with this inheritance of M. de Rennepont, which appear + very complicated—many phantoms, which seem un usually menacing—and + yet, nothing could be really more simple and natural. Let us proceed in + regular order. Let us put aside all these calumnious imputations; we will + return to them afterwards. M. Gabriel de Rennepont—and I humbly beg + him to contradict me, if I depart in the least instance from the exact + truth—M. Gabriel de Rennepont, in acknowledgment of the care + formerly bestowed on him by the society to which I have the honor to + belong, made over to me, as its representative, freely and voluntarily, + all the property that might come to him one day, the value of which was + unknown to him, as well as to myself.” + </p> + <p> + Father d’Aigrigny here looked at Gabriel, as if appealing to him for + the truth of this statement. + </p> + <p> + “It is true,” said the young priest: “I made this + donation freely.” + </p> + <p> + “This morning, in consequence of a private conversation, which I + will not repeat—and in this, I am certain beforehand, of the Abbe + Gabriel—” + </p> + <p> + “True,” replied Gabriel, generously; “the subject of + this conversation is of little importance.” + </p> + <p> + “It was then, in consequence of this conversation that the Abbe + Gabriel manifested the desire to confirm this donation—not in my + favor, for I have little to do with earthly wealth—but in favor of + the sacred and charitable works of which our Company is the trustee. I + appeal to the honor of M. Gabriel to declare if he have not engaged + himself towards us, not only by a solemn oath, but by a perfectly legal + act, executed in presence of M. Dumesnil, here present?” + </p> + <p> + “It is all true,” answered Gabriel. + </p> + <p> + “The deed was prepared by me,” added the notary. + </p> + <p> + “But Gabriel could only give you what belonged to him,” cried + Dagobert. “The dear boy never supposed that you were making use of + him to rob other people.” + </p> + <p> + “Do me the favor, sir, to allow me to explain myself,” replied + Father d’Aigrigny, courteously; “you can afterwards make + answer.” + </p> + <p> + Dagobert repressed with difficulty his painful impatience. The reverend + father continued: “The Abbe Gabriel has therefore, by the double + engagement of an oath and a legal act, confirmed his donation. Much more,” + resumed Father d’Aigrigny: “when to his great astonishment and + to ours, the enormous amount of the inheritance became known, the Abbe + Gabriel, faithful to his own admirable generosity, far from repenting of + his gifts, consecrated them once more by a pious movement of gratitude to + Providence—for M. Notary will doubtless remember, that, after + embracing the Abbe Gabriel with transport, and telling him that he was a + second Vincent de Paul in charity, I took him by the hand, and we both + knelt down together to thank heaven for having inspired him with the + thought too offer these immense riches to the Greater Glory of the Lord.” + </p> + <p> + “That is true, also,” said Gabriel, honestly; “so long + as myself was concerned, though I might be astounded for a moment by the + revelation of so enormous a fortune, I did not think for an instant of + cancelling the donation I had freely made.” + </p> + <p> + “Under these circumstances,” resumed Father d’Aigrigny, + “the hour fixed for the settlement of the inheritance having struck, + and Abbe Gabriel being the only heir that presented himself, he became + necessarily the only legitimate possessor of this immense wealth—enormous, + no doubt—and charity makes me rejoice that it is enormous, for, + thanks to it, many miseries will be relieved and many tears wiped away. + But, all on a sudden, here comes this gentleman,” said Father d’Aigrigny, + pointing to Dagobert; “and, under some delusion, which I forgive + from the bottom of my soul, and which I am sure he will himself regret, + accuses me, with insults and threats, with having carried off (I know not + where) some persons (I know not whom), in order to prevent their being + here at the proper time—” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I accuse you of this infamy!” cried the soldier + exasperated by the calmness and audacity of the reverend father: “yes—and + I will—” + </p> + <p> + “Once again, sir, I conjure you to be so good as to let me finish; + you can reply afterwards,” said Father d’Aigrigny, humbly, in + the softest and most honeyed accents. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I will reply, and confound you!” cried Dagobert. + </p> + <p> + “Let him finish, father. You can speak presently,” said + Agricola. + </p> + <p> + The soldier was silent as Father d’Aigrigny continued with new + assurance: “Doubtless, if there should really be any other heirs, + besides the Abbe Gabriel, it is unfortunate for them that they have not + appeared in proper time. And if, instead of defending the cause of the + poor and needy, I had only to look to my own interest, I should be far + from availing myself of this advantage, due only to chance; but, as a + trustee for the great family of the poor, I am obliged to maintain my + absolute right to this inheritance; and I do not doubt that M. Notary will + acknowledge the validity of my claim, and deliver to me these securities, + which are now my legitimate property.” + </p> + <p> + “My only mission,” replied the notary, in an agitated voice, + “is faithfully to execute the will of the testator. The Abbe Gabriel + de Rennepont alone presented himself, within the term fixed by the + testament. The deed of gift is in due form; I cannot refuse, therefore, to + deliver to the person named in the deed the amount of the heritage—” + </p> + <p> + On these words Samuel hid his face in his hands, and heaved a deep sigh; + he was obliged to acknowledge the rigorous justice of the notary’s + observations. + </p> + <p> + “But, sir,” cried Dagobert, addressing the man of law, “this + cannot be. You will not allow two poor orphans to be despoiled. It is in + the name of their father and mother that I speak to you. I give you my + honor—the honor of a soldier!—that they took advantage of the + weakness of my wife to carry the daughters of Marshal Simon to a convent, + and thus prevent me bringing them here this morning. It is so true, that I + have already laid my charge before a magistrate.” + </p> + <p> + “And what answer did you receive?” said the notary. + </p> + <p> + “That my deposition was not sufficient for the law to remove these + young girls from the convent in which they were, and that inquiries would + be made—” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir,” added Agricola, “and it was the same with + regard to Mdlle. de Cardoville, detained as mad in a lunatic asylum, + though in the full enjoyment of her reason. Like Marshal Simon’s + daughters, she too has a claim to this inheritance. I took the same steps + for her, as my father took for Marshal Simon’s daughters.” + </p> + <p> + “Well?” asked the notary. + </p> + <p> + “Unfortunately, sir,” answered Agricola, “they told me; + as they did my father, that my deposition would not suffice, and that they + must make inquiries.” + </p> + <p> + At this moment, Bathsheba, having heard the street-bell ring, left the Red + Room at a sign from Samuel. The notary resumed, addressing Agricola and + his father: “Far be it from me, gentlemen, to call in question your + good faith; but I cannot, to my great regret, attach such importance to + your accusations, which are not supported by proof, as to suspend the + regular legal course. According to your own confession, gentlemen, the + authorities, to whom you addressed yourselves, did not see fit to + interfere on your depositions, and told you they would inquire further. + Now, really, gentlemen, I appeal to you: how can I, in so serious a + matter, take upon myself a responsibility, which the magistrates + themselves have refused to take?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, you should do so, in the name of justice and honor?” + cried Dagobert. + </p> + <p> + “It may be so, sir, in your opinion; but in my view of the case, I + remain faithful to justice and honor, by executing with exactness the last + will of the dead. For the rest you have no occasion to despair. If the + persons, whose interests you represent, consider themselves injured, they + may hereafter have recourse to an action at law, against the person + receiving as donee of the Abbe Gabriel—but in the meanwhile, it is + my duty to put him in immediate possession of the securities. I should be + gravely injured, were I to act in any, other manner.” + </p> + <p> + The notary’s observations seemed so reasonable, that Samuel, + Dagobert and Agricola were quite confounded. After a moment’s + thought, Gabriel appeared to take a desperate resolution, and said to the + notary, in a firm voice— + </p> + <p> + “Since, under these circumstances, the law is powerless to obtain + the right, I must adopt, sir, an extreme course. Before doing so, I will + ask M. l’Abbe d’Aigrigny, for the last time, if he will + content himself with that portion of the property which falls justly to + me, on condition that the rest shall be placed in safe hands, till the + heirs, whose names have been brought forward, shall prove their claim.” + </p> + <p> + “To this proposition I must answer as I have done already,” + replied Father d’Aigrigny; “it is not I who am concerned, but + an immense work of charity. I am, therefore, obliged to refuse the + part-offer of the Abbe Gabriel, and to remind him of his engagements of + every kind.” + </p> + <p> + “Then you refuse this arrangement?” asked Gabriel, in an + agitated voice. + </p> + <p> + “Charity commands me to do so.” + </p> + <p> + “You refuse it—absolutely?” + </p> + <p> + “I think of all the good and pious institutions that these treasures + will enable us to establish for the Greater Glory of the Lord, and I have + neither the courage nor the desire to make the least concession.” + </p> + <p> + “Then, sir,” resumed the good priest, in a still more agitated + manner, “since you force me to do it, I revoke my donation. I only + intended to dispose of my own property, and not of that which did not + belong to me.” + </p> + <p> + “Take care M. l’Abbe,” said rather d’Aigrigny; + “I would observe that I hold in my hand a written, formal promise.” + </p> + <p> + “I know it, sir; you have a written paper, in which I take an oath + never to revoke this donation, upon any pretext whatever, and on pain of + incurring the aversion and contempt of all honest men. Well, sir! be it + so,” said Gabriel, with deep bitterness; “I will expose myself + to all the consequences of perjury; you may proclaim it everywhere. I may + be hated and despised by all—but God will judge me!” The young + priest dried a tear, which trickled from his eye. + </p> + <p> + “Oh! do not be afraid, my dear boy!” cried Dagobert, with + reviving hope. “All honest men will be on your side!” + </p> + <p> + “Well done, brother!” said Agricola. + </p> + <p> + “M. Notary,” said Rodin, in his little sharp voice, “please + to explain to Abbe Gabriel, that he may perjure himself as much as he + thinks fit, but that the Civil Code is much less easy to violate than a + mere promise, which is only—sacred!” + </p> + <p> + “Speak, sir,” said Gabriel. + </p> + <p> + “Please to inform Abbe Gabriel,” resumed Rodin, “that a + deed of gift, like that made in favor of Father d’Aigrigny, can only + be cancelled for one of three reasons—is it not so?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir, for three reasons,” said the notary. + </p> + <p> + “The first is in case of the birth of a child,” said Rodin, + “and I should blush to mention such a contingency to the Abbe + Gabriel. The second is the ingratitude of the donee—and the Abbe + Gabriel may be certain of our deep and lasting gratitude. The last case is + the non-fulfilment of the wishes of the donor, with regard to the + employment of his gifts. + </p> + <p> + “Now, although the Abbe Gabriel may have suddenly conceived a very + bad opinion of us, he will at least give us some time to show that his + gifts have been disposed of according to his wishes, and applied to the + Greater Glory of the Lord.” + </p> + <p> + “Now, M. Notary,” added Father d’Aigrigny, “it is + for you to decide and say, if Abbe Gabriel can revoke the donation he has + made.” + </p> + <p> + Just as the notary was going to answer, Bathsheba reentered the room, + followed by two more personages, who appeared in the Red Room at a little + distance from each other. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0090" id="link2H_4_0090"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + BOOK VI. + </h2> + <p> + <a name="link2H_PART2B" id="link2H_PART2B"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + PART SECOND.—THE CHASTISEMENT. (Concluded.) + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + XXVI. A Good Genius XXVII. The First Last, And the Last + First XXVIII. The Stranger XXIX. The Den XXX. An Unexpected + Visit XXXI. Friendly Services XXXII. The Advice XXXIII. The + Accuser XXXIV. Father d’Aigrigny’s Secretary XXXV. Sympathy + XXXVI. Suspicions XXXVII. Excuses XXXVIII. Revelations + XXXIX. Pierre Simon +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0079" id="link2HCH0079"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXVI. A GOOD GENIUS. + </h2> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>he first of the + two, whose arrival had interrupted the answer of the notary, was + Faringhea. At sight of this man’s forbidding countenance, Samuel + approached, and said to him: “Who are you, sir?” + </p> + <p> + After casting a piercing glance at Rodin, who started but soon recovered + his habitual coolness, Faringhea replied to Samuel: “Prince Djalma + arrived lately from India, in order to be present here this day, as it was + recommended to him by an inscription on a medal, which he wore about his + neck.” + </p> + <p> + “He, also!” cried Gabriel, who had been the shipmate of the + Indian Prince from the Azores, where the vessel in which he came from + Alexandria had been driven into port: “he also one of the heirs! In + fact, the prince told me during the voyage that his mother was of French + origin. But, doubtless, he thought it right to conceal from me the object + of his journey. Oh! that Indian is a noble and courageous young man. Where + is he?” + </p> + <p> + The Strangler again looked at Rodin, and said, laying strong emphasis upon + his words: “I left the prince yesterday evening. He informed me + that, although he had a great interest to be here, he might possibly + sacrifice that interest to other motives. I passed the night in the same + hotel, and this morning, when I went to call on him, they told me he was + already gone out. My friendship for him led me to come hither, hoping the + information I should be able to give might be of use to the prince.” + </p> + <p> + In making no mention of the snare into which he had fallen the day before, + in concealing Rodin’s machinations with regard to Djalma, and in + attributing the absence of this latter to a voluntary cause, the Strangler + evidently wished to serve the socius, trusting that Rodin would know how + to recompense his discretion. It is useless to observe, that all this + story was impudently false. Having succeeded that morning in escaping from + his prison by a prodigious effort of cunning, audacity, and skill, he had + run to the hotel where he had left Djalma; there he had learned that a man + and woman, of an advanced age, and most respectable appearance, calling + themselves relations of the young Indian, had asked to see him—and + that, alarmed at the dangerous state of somnolency in which he seemed to + be plunged, they had taken him home in their carriage, in order to pay him + the necessary attention. + </p> + <p> + “It is unfortunate,” said the notary, “that this heir + also did not make his appearance—but he has, unhappily, forfeited + his right to the immense inheritance that is in question.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! an immense inheritance is in question,” said Faringhea, + looking fixedly at Rodin, who prudently turned away his eyes. + </p> + <p> + The second of the two personages we have mentioned entered at this moment. + It was the father of Marshal Simon, an old man of tall stature, still + active and vigorous for his age. His hair was white and thin. His + countenance, rather fresh-colored, was expressive at once of quickness, + mildness and energy. + </p> + <p> + Agricola advanced hastily to meet him. “You here, M. Simon!” + he exclaimed. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, my boy,” said the marshal’s father, cordially + pressing Agricola’s hand “I have just arrived from my journey. + M. Hardy was to have been here, about some matter of inheritance, as he + supposed: but, as he will still be absent from Paris for some time, he has + charged me—” + </p> + <p> + “He also an heir!—M. Francis Hardy!” cried Agricola, + interrupting the old workman. + </p> + <p> + “But how pale and agitated you are, my boy!” said the marshal’s + father, looking round with astonishment. “What is the matter?” + </p> + <p> + “What is the matter?” cried Dagobert, in despair, as he + approached the foreman. “The matter is that they would rob your + granddaughters, and that I have brought them from the depths of Siberia + only to witness this shameful deed!” + </p> + <p> + “Eh?” cried the old workman, trying to recognize the soldiers + face, “you are then—” + </p> + <p> + “Dagobert.” + </p> + <p> + “You—the generous, devoted friend of my son!” cried the + marshal’s father, pressing the hands of Dagobert in his own with + strong emotion; “but did you not speak of Simon’s daughter?” + </p> + <p> + “Of his daughters; for he is more fortunate than he imagines,” + said Dagobert. “The poor children are twins.” + </p> + <p> + “And where are they?” asked the old man. + </p> + <p> + “In a convent.” + </p> + <p> + “In a convent?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; by the treachery of this man, who keeps them there in order to + disinherit them.” + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:65%;"> + <img src="images/20255m.jpg" alt="20255m” width=" /><br /> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/20255.jpg"><i>Original</i></a> + </h5> + <p> + “What man?” + </p> + <p> + “The Marquis d’Aigrigny.” + </p> + <p> + “My son’s mortal enemy!” cried the old workman, as he + threw a glance of aversion at Father d’Aigrigny, whose audacity did + not fail him. + </p> + <p> + “And that is not all,” added Agricola. “M. Hardy, my + worthy and excellent master, has also lost his right to this immense + inheritance.” + </p> + <p> + “What?” cried Marshal Simon’s father; “but M. + Hardy did not know that such important interests were concerned. He set + out hastily to join one of his friends who was in want of him.” + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:65%;"> + <img src="images/20335m.jpg" alt="20335m” width=" /><br /> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/20335.jpg"><i>Original</i></a> + </h5> + <p> + At each of these successive revelations, Samuel felt his trouble increase: + but he could only sigh over it, for the will of the testator was couched, + unhappily, in precise and positive terms. + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + It was as if heaven had listened to the prayer of the missionary. Hardly + had he spoken, when a strange event took place. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + A woman appeared upon the threshold. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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!” + </p> + <p> + “Who, brother?” said Agricola, uneasy at the pale and almost + wild looks of the missionary; for the smith had not yet remarked the + strange resemblance of the woman to the portrait, though he shared in the + general feeling of amazement, without being able to explain it to himself. + Dagobert and Faringhea were in a similar state of mind. + </p> + <p> + “Who is this woman?” resumed Agricola, as he took the hand of + Gabriel, which felt damp and icy cold. + </p> + <p> + “Look!” said the young priest. “Those portraits have + been there for more than a century and a half.” + </p> + <p> + He pointed to the paintings before which he was now seated, and Agricola, + Dagobert, and Faringhea raised their eyes to either side of the fireplace. + Three exclamations were now heard at once. + </p> + <p> + “It is she—it is the same woman!” cried the smith, in + amazement, “and her portrait has been here for a hundred and fifty + years!” + </p> + <p> + “What do I see?” cried Dagobert, as he gazed at the portrait + of the man. “The friend and emissary of Marshal Simon. Yes! it is + the same face that I saw last year in Siberia. Oh, yes! I recognize that + wild and sorrowful air—those black eyebrows, which make only one!” + </p> + <p> + “My eyes do not deceive me,” muttered Faringhea to himself, + shuddering with horror. “It is the same man, with the black mark on + his forehead, that we strangled and buried on the banks of the Ganges—the + same man, that one of the sons of Bowanee told me, in the ruins of + Tchandi, had been met by him afterwards at one of the gates of Bombay—the + man of the fatal curse, who scatters death upon his passage—and his + picture has existed for a hundred and fifty years!” + </p> + <p> + And, like Dagobert and Agricola, the stranger could not withdraw his eyes + from that strange portrait. + </p> + <p> + “What a mysterious resemblance!” thought Father d’Aigrigny. + Then, as if struck with a sudden idea, he said to Gabriel: “But this + woman is the same that saved your life in America?” + </p> + <p> + “It is the same,” answered Gabriel, with emotion; “and + yet she told me she was going towards the North,” added the young + priest, speaking to himself. + </p> + <p> + “But how came she in this house?” said Father d’Aigrigny, + addressing Samuel. “Answer me! did this woman come in with you, or + before you?” + </p> + <p> + “I came in first, and alone, when this door was first opened since a + century and half,” said Samuel, gravely. + </p> + <p> + “Then how can you explain the presence of this woman here?” + said Father d’Aigrigny. + </p> + <p> + “I do not try to explain it,” said the Jew. “I see, I + believe, and now I hope.” added he, looking at Bathsheba with an + indefinable expression. + </p> + <p> + “But you ought to explain the presence of this woman!” said + Father d’Aigrigny, with vague uneasiness. “Who is she? How + came she hither?” + </p> + <p> + “All I know is, sir, that my father has often told me; there are + subterraneous communications between this house and distant parts of the + quarter.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! then nothing can be clearer,” said Father d’Aigrigny; + “it only remains to be known what this woman intends by coming + hither. As for her singular resemblance to this portrait, it is one of the + freaks of nature.” + </p> + <p> + Rodin had shared in the general emotion, at the apparition of this + mysterious woman. But when he saw that she had delivered a sealed packet + to the notary, the socius, instead of thinking of the strangeness of this + unexpected vision, was only occupied with a violent desire to quit the + house with the treasure which had just fallen to the Company. He felt a + vague anxiety at sight of the envelope with the black seal, which the + protectress of Gabriel had delivered to the notary, and was still held + mechanically in his hands. The socius, therefore, judging this a very good + opportunity to walk off with the casket, during the general silence and + stupor which still continued, slightly touched Father d’Aigrigny’s + elbow, made him a sign of intelligence, and, tucking the cedar-wood chest + under his arm, was hastening towards the door. + </p> + <p> + “One moment, sir,” said Samuel, rising, and standing in his + path; “I request M. Notary to examine the envelope, that has just + been delivered to him. You may then go out.” + </p> + <p> + “But, sir,” said Rodin, trying to force a passage, “the + question is definitively decided in favor of Father d’Aigrigny. + Therefore, with your permission—” + </p> + <p> + “I tell you, sir,” answered the old man, in a loud voice, + “that this casket shall not leave the house, until M. Notary has + examined the envelope just delivered to him!” + </p> + <p> + These words drew the attention of all, Rodin was forced to retrace his + steps. Notwithstanding the firmness of his character, the Jew shuddered at + the look of implacable hate which Rodin turned upon him at this moment. + </p> + <p> + Yielding to the wish of Samuel, the notary examined the envelope with + attention. “Good Heaven!” he cried suddenly; “what do I + see?—Ah! so much the better!” + </p> + <p> + At this exclamation all eyes turned upon the notary. “Oh! read, + read, sir!” cried Samuel, clasping his hands together. “My + presentiments have not then deceived me!” + </p> + <p> + “But, sir,” said Father d’Aigrigny to the notary, for he + began to share in the anxiety of Rodin, “what is this paper?” + </p> + <p> + “A codicil,” answered the notary; “a codicil, which + reopens the whole question.” + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:65%;"> + <img src="images/20247m.jpg" alt="20247m” width=" /><br /> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/20247.jpg"><i>Original</i></a> + </h5> + <p> + “How, sir?” cried Father d’Aigrigny, in a fury, as he + hastily drew nearer to the notary, “reopens the whole question! By + what right?” + </p> + <p> + “It is impossible,” added Rodin. “We protest against it. + </p> + <p> + “Gabriel! father! listen,” cried Agricola, “all is not + lost. There is yet hope. Do you hear, Gabriel? There is yet hope.” + </p> + <p> + “What do you say?” exclaimed the young priest, rising, and + hardly believing the words of his adopted brother. + </p> + <p> + “Gentlemen,” said the notary; “I will read to you the + superscription of this envelope. It changes, or rather, it adjourns, the + whole of the testamentary provisions.” + </p> + <p> + “Gabriel!” cried Agricola, throwing himself on the neck of the + missionary, “all is adjourned, nothing is lost!” + </p> + <p> + “Listen, gentlemen,” said the notary; and he read as follows: + </p> + <p> + “‘This is a Codicil, which for reasons herein stated, adjourns + and prorogues to the 1st day of June, 1832, though without any other + change, all the provisions contained in the testament made by me, at one o’clock + this afternoon. The house shall be reclosed, and the funds left in the + hands of the same trustee, to be distributed to the rightful claimants on + the 1st of June, 1832. + </p> + <p> + “‘Villetaneuse, this 13th of February, 1682, eleven o’clock + at night. “‘MARIUS DE RENNEPONT.’” + </p> + <p> + “I protest against this codicil as a forgery!” cried Father d’Aigrigny + livid with rage and despair. + </p> + <p> + “The woman who delivered it to the notary is a suspicious character,” + added Rodin. “The codicil has been forged.” + </p> + <p> + “No, sir,” said the notary, severely; “I have just + compared the two signatures, and they are absolutely alike. For the rest—what + I said this morning, with regard to the absent heirs, is now applicable to + you—the law is open; you may dispute the authenticity of this + codicil. Meanwhile, everything will remain suspended—since the term + for the adjustment of the inheritance is prolonged for three months and a + half.” + </p> + <p> + When the notary had uttered these last words, Rodin’s nails dripped + blood; for the first time, his wan lips became red. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, God! Thou hast heard and granted my prayer!” cried + Gabriel, kneeling down with religious fervor, and turning his angelic face + towards heaven. “Thy sovereign justice has not let iniquity triumph!” + </p> + <p> + “What do you say, my brave boy?” cried Dagobert, who, in the + first tumult of joy, had not exactly understood the meaning of the + codicil. + </p> + <p> + “All is put off, father!” exclaimed the smith; “the + heirs will have three months and a half more to make their claim. And now + that these people are unmasked,” added Agricola, pointing to Rodin + and Father d’Aigrigny, “we have nothing more to fear from + them. We shall be on our guard; and the orphans, Mdlle. de Cardoville, my + worthy master, M. Hardy, and this young Indian, will all recover their + own.” + </p> + <p> + We must renounce the attempt to paint the delight, the transport of + Gabriel and Agricola, of Dagobert, and Marshal Simon’s father, of + Samuel and Bathsheba. Faringhea alone remained in gloomy silence, before + the portrait of the man with the black-barred forehead. As for the fury of + Father d’Aigrigny and Rodin, when they saw Samuel retake possession + of the casket, we must also renounce any attempt to describe it. On the + notary’s suggestion, who took with him the codicil, to have it + opened according to the formalities of the law, Samuel agreed that it + would be more prudent to deposit in the Bank of France the securities of + immense value that were now known to be in his possession. + </p> + <p> + While all the generous hearts, which had for a moment suffered so much, + were overflowing with happiness, hope, and joy, Father d’Aigrigny + and Rodin quitted the house with rage and death in their souls. The + reverend father got into his carriage, and said to his servants: “To + Saint-Dizier House!”—Then, worn out and crushed, he fell back + upon the seat, and hid his face in his hands, while he uttered a deep + groan. Rodin sat next to him, and looked with a mixture of anger and + disdain at this so dejected and broken-spirited man. + </p> + <p> + “The coward!” said he to himself. “He despairs—and + yet—” + </p> + <p> + A quarter of an hour later, the carriage stopped in the Rue de Babylone, + in the court-yard of Saint-Dizier House. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0080" id="link2HCH0080"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXVII. THE FIRST LAST, AND THE LAST FIRST. + </h2> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>he carriage had + travelled rapidly to Saint-Dizier House. During all the way, Rodin + remained mute, contenting himself with observing Father d’Aigrigny, + and listening to him, as he poured forth his grief and fury in a long + monologue, interrupted by exclamations, lamentations, and bursts of rage, + directed against the strokes of that inexorable destiny, which had ruined + in a moment the best founded hopes. When the carriage entered the + courtyard, and stopped before the portico, the princess’s face could + be seen through one of the windows, half hidden by the folds of a curtain; + in her burning anxiety, she came to see if it was really Father d’Aigrigny + who arrived at the house. Still more, in defiance of all ordinary rules, + this great lady, generally so scrupulous as to appearances, hurried from + her apartment, and descended several steps of the staircase, to meet + Father d’Aigrigny, who was coming up with a dejected air. At sight + of the livid and agitated countenance of the reverend father, the princess + stopped suddenly, and grew pale. She suspected that all was lost. A look + rapidly exchanged with her old lover left her no doubt of the issue she so + much feared. Rodin humbly followed the reverend father, and both, preceded + by the princess, entered the room. The door once closed, the princess, + addressing Father d’Aigrigny, exclaimed with unspeakable anguish: + “What has happened?” + </p> + <p> + Instead of answering this question, the reverend father, his eyes + sparkling with rage, his lips white, his features contracted, looked + fixedly at the princess, and said to her: “Do you know the amount of + this inheritance, that we estimated at forty millions?” + </p> + <p> + “I understand,” cried the princess; “we have been + deceived. The inheritance amounts to nothing, and all you have dare has + been in vain.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, it has indeed been in vain,” answered the reverend + father, grinding his teeth with rage; “it was no question of forty + millions, but of two hundred and twelve millions. + </p> + <p> + “Two hundred and twelve millions!” repeated the princess in + amazement, as she drew back a step. “It is impossible!” + </p> + <p> + “I tell you I saw the vouchers, which were examined by the notary.” + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:65%;"> + <img src="images/20263m.jpg" alt="20263m” width=" /><br /> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/20263.jpg"><i>Original</i></a> + </h5> + <p> + “Two hundred and twelve millions?” resumed the princess, with + deep dejection. “It is an immense and sovereign power—and you + have renounced—you have not struggled for it, by every possible + means, and till the last moment?” + </p> + <p> + “Madame, I have done all that I could!—notwithstanding the + treachery of Gabriel, who this very morning declared that he renounced us, + and separated from the Society.” + </p> + <p> + “Ungrateful!” said the princess, unaffectedly. + </p> + <p> + “The deed of gift, which I had the precaution to have prepared by + the notary, was in such good, legal form, that in spite of the objections + of that accursed soldier and his son, the notary had put me in possession + of the treasure.” + </p> + <p> + “Two hundred and twelve millions!” repeated the princess + clasping her hands. “Verily it is like a dream!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” replied Father d’Aigrigny, bitterly, “for + us, this possession is indeed a dream, for a codicil has been discovered, + which puts off for three months and a half all the testamentary + provisions. Now that our very precautions have roused the suspicion of all + these heirs—now that they know the enormous amount at stake—they + will be upon their guard; and all is lost.” + </p> + <p> + “But who is the wretch that produced this codicil?” + </p> + <p> + “A woman.” + </p> + <p> + “What woman?” + </p> + <p> + “Some wandering creature, that Gabriel says he met in America, where + she saved his life.” + </p> + <p> + “And how could this woman be there—how could she know the + existence of this codicil?” + </p> + <p> + “I think it was all arranged with a miserable Jew, the guardian of + the house, whose family has had charge of the funds for three generations; + he had no doubt some secret instructions, in case he suspected the + detention of any of the heirs, for this Marius de Rennepont had foreseen + that our Company would keep their eyes upon his race.” + </p> + <p> + “But can you not dispute the validity of this codicil?” + </p> + <p> + “What, go to law in these times—litigate about a will—incur + the certainty of a thousand clamors, with no security for success?—It + is bad enough, that even this should get wind. Alas! it is terrible. So + near the goal! after so much care and trouble. An affair that had been + followed up with so much perseverance during a century and a half!” + </p> + <p> + “Two hundred and twelve millions!” said the princess. “The + Order would have had no need to look for establishments in foreign + countries; with such resources, it would have been able to impose itself + upon France.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” resumed Father d’Aigrigny, with bitterness; + “by means of education, we might have possessed ourselves of the + rising generation. The power is altogether incalculable.” Then, + stamping with his foot, he resumed: “I tell you, that it is enough + to drive one mad with rage! an affair so wisely, ably, patiently + conducted!” + </p> + <p> + “Is there no hope?” + </p> + <p> + “Only that Gabriel may not revoke his donation, in as far as + concerns himself. That alone would be a considerable sum—not less + than thirty millions.” + </p> + <p> + “It is enormous—it is almost what you hoped,” said the + princess; “then why despair?” + </p> + <p> + “Because it is evident that Gabriel will dispute this donation. + However legal it may be, he will find means to annul it, now that he is + free, informed as to our designs, and surrounded by his adopted family. I + tell you, that all is lost. There is no hope left. I think it will be even + prudent to write to Rome, to obtain permission to leave Paris for a while. + This town is odious to me!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes! I see that no hope is left—since you, my friend, + have decided almost to fly.” + </p> + <p> + Father d’Aigrigny was completely discouraged and broken down; this + terrible blow had destroyed all life and energy within him. He threw + himself back in an arm-chair, quite overcome. During the preceding + dialogue, Rodin was standing humbly near the door, with his old hat in his + hand. Two or three times, at certain passages in the conversation between + Father d’Aigrigny and the princess, the cadaverous face of the + socius, whose wrath appeared to be concentrated, was slightly flushed, and + his flappy eyelids were tinged with red, as if the blood mounted in + consequence of an interior struggle; but, immediately after, his dull + countenance resumed its pallid blue. + </p> + <p> + “I must write instantly to Rome, to announce this defeat, which has + become an event of the first importance, because it overthrows immense + hopes,” said Father d’Aigrigny, much depressed. + </p> + <p> + The reverend father had remained seated; pointing to a table, he said to + Rodin, with an abrupt and haughty air: + </p> + <p> + “Write!” + </p> + <p> + The socius placed his hat on the ground, answered with a respectful bow + the command, and with stooping head and slanting walk, went to seat + himself on a chair, that stood before a desk. Then, taking pen and paper, + he waited, silent and motionless, for the dictation of his superior. + </p> + <p> + “With your permission, princess?” said Father d’Aigrigny + to Madame de Saint-Dizier. The latter answered by an impatient wave of the + hand, as if she reproached him for the formal demand at such a time. The + reverend father bowed, and dictated these words in a hoarse and hollow + voice: “All our hopes, which of late had become almost certainties, + have been suddenly defeated. The affair of the Rennepont inheritance, in + spite of all the care and skill employed upon it, has completely and + finally failed. At the point to which matters had been brought, it is + unfortunately worse than a failure; it is a most disastrous event for the + Society, which was clearly entitled to this property, fraudulently + withdrawn from a confiscation made in our favor. My conscience at least + bears witness, that, to the last moment, I did all that was possible to + defend and secure our rights. But I repeat, we must consider this + important affair as lost absolutely and forever, and think no more about + it.” + </p> + <p> + Thus dictating, Father d’Aigrigny’s back was turned towards + Rodin. At a sudden movement made by the socius, in rising and throwing his + pen upon the table, instead of continuing to write, the reverend father + turned round, and, looking at Rodin with profound astonishment, said to + him: “Well! what are you doing?” + </p> + <p> + “It is time to end this—the man is mad!” said Rodin to + himself, as he advanced slowly towards the fireplace. + </p> + <p> + “What! you quit your place—you cease writing?” said the + reverend father, in amazement. Then, addressing the princess, who shared + in his astonishment, he added, as he glanced contemptuously at the socius, + “He is losing his senses.” + </p> + <p> + “Forgive him,” replied Mme. de Saint-Dizier; “it is, no + doubt, the emotion caused by the ruin of this affair.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank the princess, return to your place, and continue to write,” + said Father d’Aigrigny to Rodin, in a tone of disdainful compassion, + as, with imperious finger, he pointed to the table. + </p> + <p> + The socius, perfectly indifferent to this new order, approached the + fireplace, drew himself up to his full height as he turned his arched + back, planted himself firmly on his legs, stamped on the carpet with the + heel of his clumsy, greasy shoes, crossed his hands beneath the flaps of + his old, spotted coat, and, lifting his head, looked fixedly at Father d’Aigrigny. + The socius had not spoken a word, but his hideous countenance, now + flushed, suddenly revealed such a sense of his superiority, and such + sovereign contempt for Father d’Aigrigny, mingled with so calm and + serene a daring, that the reverend father and the princess were quite + confounded by it. They felt themselves overawed by this little old man, so + sordid and so ugly. Father d’Aigrigny knew too well the customs of + the Company, to believe his humble secretary capable of assuming so + suddenly these airs of transcendent superiority without a motive, or + rather, without a positive right. Late, too late, the reverend father + perceived, that this subordinate agent might be partly a spy, partly an + experienced assistant, who, according to the constitutions of the Order, + had the power and mission to depose and provisionally replace, in certain + urgent cases, the incapable person over whom he was stationed as a guard. + The reverend father was not deceived. From the general to the provincials, + and to the rectors of the colleges, all the superior members of the Order + have stationed near them, often without their knowledge, and in apparently + the lowest capacities, men able to assume their functions at any given + moment, and who, with this view, constantly keep up a direct + correspondence with Rome. + </p> + <p> + From the moment Rodin had assumed this position, the manners of Father d’Aigrigny, + generally so haughty, underwent a change. Though it cost him a good deal, + he said with hesitation, mingled with deference: “You have, no + doubt, the right to command me—who hitherto have commanded.” + Rodin, without answering, drew from his well-rubbed and greasy pocket-book + a slip of paper, stamped upon both sides, on which were written several + lines in Latin. When he had read it, Father d’Aigrigny pressed this + paper respectfully, even religiously, to his lips: then returned it to + Rodin, with a low bow. When he again raised his head, he was purple with + shame and vexation. Notwithstanding his habits of passive obedience and + immutable respect for the will of the Order, he felt a bitter and violent + rage at seeing himself thus abruptly deposed from power. That was not all. + Though, for a long time past, all relations in gallantry had ceased + between him and Mme. de Saint-Dizier, the latter was not the less a woman; + and for him to suffer this humiliation in presence of a woman was, + undoubtedly, cruel, as, notwithstanding his entrance into the Order, he + had not wholly laid aside the character of man of the world. Moreover, the + princess, instead of appearing hurt and offended by this sudden + transformation of the superior into a subaltern, and of the subaltern into + a superior, looked at Rodin with a sort of curiosity mingled with + interest. As a woman—as a woman, intensely ambitious, seeking to + connect herself with every powerful influence—the princess loved + this strange species of contrast. She found it curious and interesting to + see this man, almost in rags, mean in appearance, and ignobly ugly, and + but lately the most humble of subordinates look down from the height of + his superior intelligence upon the nobleman by birth, distinguished for + the elegance of his manners, and just before so considerable a personage + in the Society. From that moment, as the more important personage of the + two, Rodin completely took the place of Father d’Aigrigny in the + princess’s mind. The first pang of humiliation over, the reverend + father, though his pride bled inwardly, applied all his knowledge of the + world to behave with redoubled courtesy towards Rodin, who had become his + superior by this abrupt change of fortune. But the ex-socius, incapable of + appreciating, or rather of acknowledging, such delicate shades of manner, + established himself at once, firmly, imperiously, brutally, in his new + position, not from any reaction of offended pride, but from a + consciousness of what he was really worth. A long acquaintance with Father + d’Aigrigny had revealed to him the inferiority of the latter. + </p> + <p> + “You threw away your pen,” said Father d’Aigrigny to + Rodin with extreme deference, “while I was dictating a note for + Rome. Will you do me the favor to tell me how I have acted wrong?” + </p> + <p> + “Directly,” replied Rodin, in his sharp, cutting voice. + “For a long time this affair appeared to me above your strength; but + I abstained from interfering. And yet what mistakes! what poverty of + invention; what coarseness in the means employed to bring it to bear!” + </p> + <p> + “I can hardly understand your reproaches,” answered Father d’Aigrigny, + mildly, though a secret bitterness made its way through his apparent + submission. “Was not the success certain, had it not been for this + codicil? Did you not yourself assist in the measures that you now blame?” + </p> + <p> + “You commanded, then, and it was my duty to obey. Besides, you were + just on the point of succeeding—not because of the means you had + taken—but in spite of those means, with all their awkward and + revolting brutality.” + </p> + <p> + “Sir—you are severe,” said Father d’Aigrigny. + </p> + <p> + “I am just. One has to be prodigiously clever, truly, to shut up any + one in a room, and then lock the door! And yet, what else have you done? + The daughters of General Simon?—imprisoned at Leipsic, shut up in a + convent at Paris! Adrienne de Cardoville?—placed in confinement. + Sleepinbuff—put in prison. Djalma?—quieted by a narcotic. One + only ingenious method, and a thousand times safer, because it acted + morally, not materially, was employed to remove M. Hardy. As for your + other proceedings—they were all bad, uncertain, dangerous. Why? + Because they were violent, and violence provokes violence. Then it is no + longer a struggle of keen, skillful, persevering men, seeing through the + darkness in which they walk, but a match of fisticuffs in broad day. + Though we should be always in action, we should always shrink from view; + and yet you could find no better plan than to draw universal attention to + us by proceedings at once open and deplorably notorious. To make them more + secret, you call in the guard, the commissary of police, the jailers, for + your accomplices. It is pitiable, sir; nothing but the most brilliant + success could cover such wretched folly; and this success has been + wanting.” + </p> + <p> + “Sir,” said Father d’Aigrigny, deeply hurt, for the + Princess de Saint Dizier, unable to conceal the sort of admiration caused + in her by the plain, decisive words of Rodin, looked at her old lover, + with an air that seemed to say, “He is right;”—“sir, + you are more than severe in your judgment; and, notwithstanding the + deference I owe to you, I must observe, that I am not accustomed—” + </p> + <p> + “There are many other things to which you are not accustomed,” + said Rodin, harshly interrupting the reverend father; “but you will + accustom yourself to them. You have hitherto had a false idea of your own + value. There is the old leaven of the soldier and the worlding fermenting + within you, which deprives your reason of the coolness, lucidity, and + penetration that it ought to possess. You have been a fine military + officer, brisk and gay, foremost in wars and festivals, with pleasures and + women. These things have half worn you out. You will never be anything but + a subaltern; you have been thoroughly tested. You will always want that + vigor and concentration of mind which governs men and events. That vigor + and concentration of mind I have—and do you know why? It is because, + solely devoted to the service of the Company, I have always been ugly, + dirty, unloved, unloving—I have all my manhood about me!” + </p> + <p> + In pronouncing these words, full of cynical pride, Rodin was truly + fearful. The princess de Saint-Dizier thought him almost handsome by his + energy and audacity. + </p> + <p> + Father d’Aigrigny, feeling himself overawed, invincibly and + inexorably, by this diabolical being, made a last effort to resist and + exclaimed, “Oh! sir, these boastings are no proofs of valor and + power. We must see you at work.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” replied Rodin, coldly; “do you know at what work?” + Rodin was fond of this interrogative mode of expression. “Why, at + the work that you so basely abandon.” + </p> + <p> + “What!” cried the Princess de Saint-Dizier; for Father d’Aigrigny, + stupefied at Rodin’s audacity, was unable to utter a word. + </p> + <p> + “I say,” resumed Rodin, slowly, “that I undertake to + bring to a good issue this affair of the Rennepont inheritance, which + appears to you so desperate.” + </p> + <p> + “You?” cried Father d’Aigrigny. “You?” + “I.” + </p> + <p> + “But they have unmasked our maneuvers.” + </p> + <p> + “So much the better; we shall be obliged to invent others.” + </p> + <p> + “But they; will suspect us in everything.” + </p> + <p> + “So much the better; the success that is difficult is the most + certain.” + </p> + <p> + “What! do you hope to make Gabriel consent not to revoke his + donation, which is perhaps illegal?” + </p> + <p> + “I mean to bring in to the coffers of the Company the whole of the + two hundred and twelve millions, of which they wish to cheat us. Is that + clear?” + </p> + <p> + “It is clear—but impossible.” + </p> + <p> + “And I tell you that it is, and must be possible. Do you not + understand, short-sighted as you are!” cried Rodin, animated to such + a degree that his cadaverous face became slightly flushed; “do you + not understand that it is no longer in our choice to hesitate? Either + these two hundred and twelve millions must be ours—and then the + re-establishment of our sovereign influence in France is sure—for, + in these venal times, with such a sum at command, you may bribe or + overthrow a government, or light up the flame of civil war, and restore + legitimacy, which is our natural ally, and, owing all to us, would give us + all in return—” + </p> + <p> + “That is clear,” cried the princess, clasping her hands in + admiration. + </p> + <p> + “If, on the contrary,” resumed Rodin, “these two hundred + and twelve millions fall into the hands of the family of the Renneponts, + it will be our ruin and our destruction. We shall create a stock of bitter + and implacable enemies. Have you not heard the execrable designs of that + Rennepont, with regard to the association he recommends, and which, by an + accursed fatality, his race are just in a condition to realize? Think of + the forces that would rally round these millions. There would be Marshal + Simon, acting in the name of his daughters—that is, the man of the + people become a duke, without being the vainer for it, which secures his + influence with the mob, because military spirit and Bonapartism still + represent, in the eyes of the French populace, the traditions of national + honor and glory. There would be Francis Hardy, the liberal, independent, + enlightened citizen, the type of the great manufacturer, the friend of + progress, the benefactor of his workmen. There would be Gabriel—the + good priest, as they say!—the apostle of the primitive gospel, the + representative of the democracy of the church, of the poor country curate + as opposed to the rich bishop, the tiller of the vine as opposed to him + who sits in the shade of it; the propagator of all the ideas of + fraternity, emancipation, progress—to use their own jargon—and + that, not in the name of revolutionary and incendiary politics, but in the + name of a religion of charity, love, and peace—to speak as they + speak. There, too, would be Adrienne de Cardoville, the type of elegance, + grace, and beauty, the priestess of the senses, which she deifies by + refining and cultivating them. I need not tell you of her wit and + audacity; you know them but too well. No one could be more dangerous to us + than this creature, a patrician in blood, a plebeian in heart, a poet in + imagination. Then, too, there would be Prince Djalma, chivalrous, bold, + ready for adventure, knowing nothing of civilized life, implacable in his + hate as in his affection, a terrible instrument for whoever can make use + of him. In this detestable family, even such a wretch as Sleepinbuff, who + in himself is of no value, raised and purified by the contact of these + generous and far from narrow natures (as they call them), might represent + the working class, and take a large share in the influence of that + association. Now do you not think that if all these people, already + exasperated against us, because (as they say) we have wished to rob them, + should follow the detestable counsels of this Rennepont—should unite + their forces around this immense fortune, which would strengthen them a + hundred-fold—do you not think that, if they declare a deadly war + against us, they will be the most dangerous enemies that we have ever had? + I tell you that the Company has never been in such serious peril; yes, it + is now a question of life and death. We must no longer defend ourselves, + but lead the attack, so as to annihilate this accursed race of Rennepont, + and obtain possession of these millions.” + </p> + <p> + At this picture, drawn by Rodin with a feverish animation, which had only + the more influence from its unexpectedness, the princess and Father d’Aigrigny + looked at each other in confusion. + </p> + <p> + “I confess,” said the reverend father to Rodin, “I had + not considered all the dangerous consequences of this association, + recommended by M. de Rennepont. I believe that the heir, from the + characters we know them to be possessed of, would wish to realize this + Utopia. The peril is great and pressing; what is to be done?” + </p> + <p> + “What, sir? You have to act upon ignorant, heroic, enthusiastic + natures like Djalma’s—sensual and eccentric characters like + Adrienne de Cardoville’s—simple and ingenuous minds like Rose + and Blanche Simon’s—honest and frank dispositions like Francis + Hardy’s—angelic and pure souls like Gabriel’s—brutal + and stupid instincts like Jacques—and can you ask, ‘What is to + be done?’” + </p> + <p> + “In truth, I do not understand you,” said Father d’Aigrigny. + </p> + <p> + “I believe it. Your past conduct shows as much,” replied + Rodin, contemptuously. “You have had recourse to the lowest and most + mechanical contrivances, instead of acting upon the noble and generous + passions, which, once united, would constitute so formidable a bond; but + which, now divided and isolated, are open to every surprise, every + seduction, every attack! Do you, at length understand me? Not yet?” + added Rodin, shrugging his shoulders. “Answer me—do people die + of despair?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “May not the gratitude of successful love reach the last limits of + insane generosity?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “May there not be such horrible deceptions, that suicide is the only + refuge from frightful realities?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “May not the excess of sensuality lead to the grave by a slow and + voluptuous agony?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “Are there not in life such terrible circumstances that the most + worldly, the firmest, the most impious characters, throw themselves + blindly, overwhelmed with despair, into the arms of religion, and abandon + all earthly greatness for sackcloth, and prayers, and solitude?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “Are there not a thousand occasions in which the reaction of the + passions works the most extraordinary changes, and brings about the most + tragic catastrophes in the life of man and woman?” + </p> + <p> + “No doubt.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, then! why ask me, ‘What is to be done?’ What + would you say, for example, if before three months are over, the most + dangerous members of this family of the Renneponts should come to implore, + upon their knees, admission to that very Society which they now hold in + horror, and from which Gabriel has just separated?” + </p> + <p> + “Such a conversion is impossible,” cried Father d’Aigrigny. + </p> + <p> + “Impossible? What were you, sir, fifteen years ago?” said + Rodin. “An impious and debauched man of the world. And yet you came + to us, and your wealth became ours. What! we have conquered princes, + kings, popes; we have absorbed and extinguished in our unity magnificent + intelligences, which, from afar, shone with too dazzling a light; we have + all but governed two worlds; we have perpetuated our Society, full of + life, rich and formidable, even to this day, through all the hate, and all + the persecutions that have assailed us; and yet we shall not be able to + get the better of a single family, which threatens our Company, and has + despoiled us of a large fortune? What! we are not skillful enough to + obtain this result without having recourse to awkward and dangerous + violence? You do not know, then, the immense field that is thrown open by + the mutually destructive power of human passions, skillfully combined, + opposed, restrained, excited?—particularly,” added Rodin, with + a strange smile, “when, thanks to a powerful ally, these passions + are sure to be redoubled in ardor and energy.” + </p> + <p> + “What ally?” asked Father d’Aigrigny, who, as well as + the Princess de Saint-Dizier, felt a sort of admiration mixed with terror. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” resumed Rodin, without answering the reverend father; + “this formidable ally, who comes to our assistance, may bring about + the most astonishing transformations—make the coward brave, and the + impious credulous, and the gentle ferocious—” + </p> + <p> + “But this ally!” cried the Princess, oppressed with a vague + sense of fear. “This great and formidable ally—who is he?” + </p> + <p> + “If he comes,” resumed Rodin, still impassible, “the + youngest and most vigorous, every moment in danger of death, will have no + advantage over the sick man at his last gasp.” + </p> + <p> + “But who is this ally?” exclaimed Father d’Aigrigny, + more and more alarmed, for as the picture became darker, Rodin’s + face become more cadaverous. + </p> + <p> + “This ally, who can decimate a population, may carry away with him + in the shroud that he drags at his heels, the whole of an accursed race; + but even he must respect the life of that great intangible body, which + does not perish with the death of its members—for the spirit of the + Society of Jesus is immortal!” + </p> + <p> + “And this ally?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, this ally,” resumed Rodin, “who advances with slow + steps, and whose terrible coming is announced by mournful presentiments—” + </p> + <p> + “Is—” + </p> + <p> + “The Cholera!” + </p> + <p> + These words, pronounced by Rodin in an abrupt voice, made the Princess and + Father d’Aigrigny grow pale and tremble. Rodin’s look was + gloomy and chilling, like a spectre’s. For some moments, the silence + of the tomb reigned in the saloon. Rodin was the first to break it. Still + impassible, he pointed with imperious gesture to the table, where a few + minutes before he had himself been humbly seated, and said in a sharp + voice to Father d’Aigrigny, “Write!” + </p> + <p> + The reverend father started at first with surprise; then, remembering that + from a superior he had become an inferior, he rose, bowed lowly to Rodin, + as he passed before him, seated himself at the table, took the pen, and + said, “I am ready.” + </p> + <p> + Rodin dictated, and the reverend Father wrote as follows: “By the + mismanagement of the Reverend Father d’Aigrigny, the affair of the + inheritance of the Rennepont family has been seriously compromised. The + sum amounts to two hundred and twelve millions. Notwithstanding the check + we have received, we believe we may safely promise to prevent these + Renneponts from injuring the Society, and to restore the two hundred and + twelve millions to their legitimate possessors. We only ask for the most + complete and extensive powers.” + </p> + <p> + A quarter of an hour after this scene, Rodin left Saint Dizier House, + brushing with his sleeve the old greasy hat, I which he had pulled off to + return the salute of the porter by a very low bow. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0081" id="link2HCH0081"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXVIII. THE STRANGER. + </h2> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>he following scene + took place on the morrow of the day in which Father d’Aigrigny had + been so rudely degraded by Rodin to the subaltern position formerly + occupied by the socius. + </p> + <p> + It is well known that the Rue Clovis is one of the most solitary streets + in the Montagne St. Genevieve district. At the epoch of this narrative, + the house No. 4, in this street, was composed of one principal building, + through which ran a dark passage, leading to a little, gloomy court, at + the end of which was a second building, in a singularly miserable and + dilapidated condition. On the ground-floor, in front of the house, was a + half-subterraneous shop, in which was sold charcoal, fagots, vegetables, + and milk. Nine o’clock in the morning had just struck. The mistress + of the shop, one Mother Arsene, an old woman of a mild, sickly + countenance, clad in a brown stuff dress, with a red bandanna round her + head, was mounted on the top step of the stairs which led down to her + door, and was employed in setting out her goods—that is, on one side + of her door she placed a tin milk-can, and on the other some bunches of + stale vegetables, flanked with yellowed cabbages. At the bottom of the + steps, in the shadowy depths of the cellar, one could see the light of the + burning charcoal in a little stove. This shop situated at the side of the + passage, served as a porter’s lodge, and the old woman acted as + portress. On a sudden, a pretty little creature, coming from the house, + entered lightly and merrily the shop. This young girl was Rose-Pompon, the + intimate friend of the Bacchanal Queen.—Rose-Pompon, a widow for the + moment, whose bacchanalian cicisbeo was Ninny Moulin, the orthodox + scapegrace, who, on occasion, after drinking his fill, could transform + himself into Jacques Dumoulin, the religious writer, and pass gayly from + dishevelled dances to ultramontane polemics, from Storm-blown Tulips to + Catholic pamphlets. + </p> + <p> + Rose-Pompon had just quitted her bed, as appeared by the negligence of her + strange morning costume; no doubt, for want of any other head-dress, on + her beautiful light hair, smooth and well-combed, was stuck jauntily a + foraging-cap, borrowed from her masquerading costume. Nothing could be + more sprightly than that face, seventeen years old, rosy, fresh, dimpled, + and brilliantly lighted up by a pair of gay, sparkling blue eyes. Rose + Pompon was so closely enveloped from the neck to the feet in a red and + green plaid cloak, rather faded, that one could guess the cause of her + modest embarrassment. Her naked feet, so white that one could not tell if + she wore stockings or not, were slipped into little morocco shoes, with + plated buckles. It was easy to perceive that her cloak concealed some + article which she held in her hand. + </p> + <p> + “Good-day, Rose-Pompon,” said Mother Arsene with a kindly air; + “you are early this morning. Had you no dance last night?” + </p> + <p> + “Don’t talk of it, Mother Arsene; I had no heart to dance. + Poor Cephyse—the Bacchanal Queen—has done nothing but cry all + night. She cannot console herself, that her lover should be in prison.” + </p> + <p> + “Now, look here, my girl,” said the old woman, “I must + speak to you about your friend Cephyse. You won’t be angry?” + </p> + <p> + “Am I ever angry?” said Rose-Pompon, shrugging her shoulders. + </p> + <p> + “Don’t you think that M. Philemon will scold me on his return?” + </p> + <p> + “Scold you! what for?” + </p> + <p> + “Because of his rooms, that you occupy.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, Mother Arsene, did not Philemon tell you, that, in his + absence, I was to be as much mistress of his two rooms as I am of himself?” + </p> + <p> + “I do not speak of you, but of your friend Cephyse, whom you have + also brought to occupy M. Philemon’s lodgings.” + </p> + <p> + “And where would she have gone without me, my good Mother Arsene? + Since her lover was arrested, she has not dared to return home, because + she owes ever so many quarters. Seeing her troubles. I said to her: + ‘Come, lodge at Philemon’s. When he returns, we must find + another place for you.’” + </p> + <p> + “Well, little lovey—if you only assure me that M. Philemon + will not be angry—” + </p> + <p> + “Angry! for what? That we spoil his things? A fine set of things he + has to spoil! I broke his last cup yesterday—and am forced to fetch + the milk in this comic concern.” + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:65%;"> + <img src="images/20277m.jpg" alt="20277m” width=" /><br /> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/20277.jpg"><i>Original</i></a> + </h5> + <p> + So saying, laughing with all her might, Rose-Pompon drew her pretty little + white arm from under her cloak, and presented to Mother Arsene one of + those champagne glasses of colossal capacity, which hold about a bottle. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, dear!” said the greengrocer in amazement; “it is + like a glass trumpet.” + </p> + <p> + “It is Philemon’s grand gala-glass, which they gave him when + he took his degrees in boating,” said Rose-Pompon, gravely. + </p> + <p> + “And to think you must put your milk in it—I am really + ashamed,” said Mother Arsene. + </p> + <p> + “So am I! If I were to meet any one on the stairs, holding this + glass in my hand like a Roman candlestick, I should burst out laughing, + and break the last remnant of Philemon’s bazaar, and he would give + me his malediction.” + </p> + <p> + “There is no danger that you will meet any one. The first-floor is + gone out, and the second gets up very late.” + </p> + <p> + “Talking of lodgers,” said Rose-Pompon, “is there not a + room to let on the second-floor in the rear house? It might do for + Cephyse, when Philemon comes back.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, there is a little closet in the roof—just over the two + rooms of the mysterious old fellow,” said Mother Arsene. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes! Father Charlemagne. Have you found out anything more about + him?” + </p> + <p> + “Dear me, no, my girl! only that he came this morning at break of + day, and knocked at my shutters. ‘Have you received a letter for me, + my good lady?’ said he—for he is always so polite, the dear + man!—‘No, sir,’ said I.’—‘Well, then, + pray don’t disturb yourself, my good lady!’ said he; ‘I + will call again.’ And so he went away.” + </p> + <p> + “Does he never sleep in the house?” + </p> + <p> + “Never. No doubt, he lodges somewhere else—but he passes some + hours here, once every four or five days.” + </p> + <p> + “And always comes alone?” + </p> + <p> + “Always.” + </p> + <p> + “Are you quite sure? Does he never manage to slip in some little + puss of a woman? Take care, or Philemon will give you notice to quit,” + said Rose-Pompon, with an air of mock-modesty. + </p> + <p> + “M. Charlemagne with a woman! Oh, poor dear man!” said the + greengrocer, raising her hands to heaven; “if you saw him, with his + greasy hat, his old gray coat, his patched umbrella, and his simple face, + he looks more like a saint than anything else.” + </p> + <p> + “But then, Mother Arsene, what does the saint do here, all alone for + hours, in that hole at the bottom of the court, where one can hardly see + at noon-day?” + </p> + <p> + “That’s what I ask myself, my dovey, what can he be doing? It + can’t be that he comes to look at his furniture, for he has nothing + but a flock bed, a table, a stove, a chair, and an old trunk.” + </p> + <p> + “Somewhat in the style of Philemon’s establishment,” + said Rose-Pompon. + </p> + <p> + “Well, notwithstanding that, Rosey, he is as much afraid that any + one should come into his room, as if we were all thieves, and his + furniture was made of massy gold. He has had a patent lock put on the + door, at his own expense; he never leaves me his key; and he lights his + fire himself, rather than let anybody into his room.” + </p> + <p> + “And you say he is old?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, fifty or sixty.” + </p> + <p> + “And ugly?” + </p> + <p> + “Just fancy, little viper’s eyes, looking as if they had been + bored with a gimlet, in a face as pale as death—so pale, that the + lips are white. That’s for his appearance. As for his character, the + good old man’s so polite!—he pulls off his hat so often, and + makes you such low bows, that it is quite embarrassing.” + </p> + <p> + “But, to come back to the point,” resumed Rose-Pompon, “what + can he do all alone in those two rooms? If Cephyse should take the closet, + on Philemon’s return, we may amuse ourselves by finding out + something about it. How much do they want for the little room?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, it is in such bad condition, that I think the landlord would + let it go for fifty or fifty-five francs a-year, for there is no room for + a stove, and the only light comes through a small pane in the roof.” + </p> + <p> + “Poor Cephyse!” said Rose, sighing, and shaking her head + sorrowfully. “After having amused herself so well, and flung away so + much money with Jacques Rennepont, to live in such a place, and support + herself by hard work! She must have courage!” + </p> + <p> + “Why, indeed, there is a great difference between that closet and + the coach-and-four in which Cephyse came to fetch you the other day, with + all the fine masks, that looked so gay—particularly the fat man in + the silver paper helmet, with the plume and the top boots. What a jolly + fellow!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Ninny Moulin. There is no one like him to dance the forbidden + fruit. You should see him with Cephyse, the Bacchanal Queen. Poor + laughing, noisy thing!—the only noise she makes now is crying.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! these young people—these young people!” said the + greengrocer. + </p> + <p> + “Easy, Mother Arsene; you were young once.” + </p> + <p> + “I hardly know. I have always thought myself much the same as I am + now.” + </p> + <p> + “And your lovers, Mother Arsene?” + </p> + <p> + “Lovers! Oh, yes! I was too ugly for that—and too well taken + care of.” + </p> + <p> + “Your mother looked after you, then?” + </p> + <p> + “No, my girl; but I was harnessed.” + </p> + <p> + “Harnessed!” cried Rose-Pompon, in amazement, interrupting the + dealer. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,—harnessed to a water-cart, along with my brother. So, + you see, when we had drawn like a pair of horses for eight or ten hours a + day, I had no heart to think of nonsense.” + </p> + <p> + “Poor Mother Arsene, what a hard life,” said Rose-Pompon with + interest. + </p> + <p> + “In the winter, when it froze, it was hard enough. I and my brother + were obliged to be rough-shod, for fear of slipping.” + </p> + <p> + “What a trade for a woman! It breaks one’s heart. And they + forbid people to harness dogs!” added Rose-Pompon, + sententiously.(21) + </p> + <p> + “Why, ‘tis true,” resumed Mother Arsene. “Animals + are sometimes better off than people. But what would you have? One must + live, you know. As you make your bed, you must lie. It was hard enough, + and I got a disease of the lungs by it—which was not my fault. The + strap, with which I was harnessed, pressed so hard against my chest, that + I could scarcely breathe: so I left the trade, and took to a shop, which + is just to tell you, that if I had had a pretty face and opportunity, I + might have done like so many other young people, who begin with laughter + and finish—” + </p> + <p> + “With a laugh t’other side of the mouth—you would say; + it is true, Mother Arsene. But, you see, every one has not the courage to + go into harness, in order to remain virtuous. A body says to herself, you + must have some amusement while you are young and pretty—you will not + always be seventeen years old—and then—and then—the + world will end, or you will get married.” + </p> + <p> + “But, perhaps, it would have been better to begin by that.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, but one is too stupid; one does not know how to catch the men, + or to frighten them. One is simple, confiding, and they only laugh at us. + Why, Mother Arsene, I am myself an example that would make you shudder; + but ‘tis quite enough to have had one’s sorrows, without + fretting one’s self at the remembrance.” + </p> + <p> + “What, my beauty! you, so young and gay, have had sorrows?” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, Mother Arsene! I believe you. At fifteen and a half I began to + cry, and never left off till I was sixteen. That was enough, I think.” + </p> + <p> + “They deceived you, mademoiselle?” + </p> + <p> + “They did worse. They treated me as they have treated many a poor + girl, who had no more wish to go wrong than I had. My story is not a three + volume one. My father and mother are peasants near Saint-Valery, but so + poor—so poor, that having five children to provide for, they were + obliged to send me, at eight years old, to my aunt, who was a charwoman + here in Paris. The good woman took me out of charity, and very kind it was + of her, for I earned but little. At eleven years of age she sent me to + work in one of the factories of the Faubourg Saint-Antoine. I don’t + wish to speak, ill of the masters of these factories; but what do they + care, if little boys and girls are mixed up pell-mell with young men and + women of eighteen to twenty? Now you see, there, as everywhere, some are + no better than they should be; they are not particular in word or deed, + and I ask you, what art example for the children, who hear and see more + than you think for. Then, what happens? They get accustomed as they grow + older, to hear and see things, that afterwards will not shock them at all.” + </p> + <p> + “What you say there is true, Rose-Pompon. Poor children! who takes + any trouble about them?—not their father or mother, for they are at + their daily work.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes, Mother Arsene, it is all very well; it is easy to cry + down a young girl that has gone wrong; but if they knew all the ins and + outs, they would perhaps pity rather than blame her. To come back to + myself—at fifteen years old I was tolerably pretty. One day I had + something to ask of the head clerk. I went to him in his private room. He + told me he would grant what I wanted, and even take me under his + patronage, if I would listen to him; and he began by trying to kiss me. I + resisted. Then he said to me:—‘You refuse my offer? You shall + have no more work; I discharge you from the factory.’” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, the wicked man!” said Mother Arsene. + </p> + <p> + “I went home all in tears, and my poor aunt encouraged me not to + yield, and she would try to place me elsewhere. Yes—but it was + impossible; the factories were all full. Misfortunes never come single; my + aunt fell ill, and there was not a sou in the house; I plucked up my + courage, and returned to entreat the mercy of the clerk at the factory. + Nothing would do. ‘So much the worse,’ said he; ‘you are + throwing away your luck. If you had been more complying, I should perhaps + have married you.’ What could I do, Mother Arsene?—misery was + staring me in the face; I had no work; my aunt was ill; the clerk said he + would marry me—I did like so many others.” + </p> + <p> + “And when, afterwards, you spoke to him about marriage?” + </p> + <p> + “Of course he laughed at me, and in six months left me. Then I wept + all the tears in my body, till none remained—then I was very ill—and + then—I console myself, as one may console one’s self for + anything. After some changes, I met with Philemon. It is upon him that I + revenge myself for what others have done to me. I am his tyrant,” + added Rose-Pompon, with a tragic air, as the cloud passed away which had + darkened her pretty face during her recital to Mother Arsene. + </p> + <p> + “It is true,” said the latter thoughtfully. “They + deceive a poor girl—who is there to protect or defend her? Oh! the + evil we do does not always come from ourselves, and then—” + </p> + <p> + “I spy Ninny Moulin!” cried Rose-Pompon, interrupting the + greengrocer, and pointing to the other side of the street. “How + early abroad! What can he want with me?” and Rose wrapped herself + still more closely and modestly in her cloak. + </p> + <p> + It was indeed Jacques Dumoulin, who advanced with his hat stuck on one + side, with rubicund nose and sparkling eye, dressed in a loose coat, which + displayed the rotundity of his abdomen. His hands, one of which held a + huge cane shouldered like a musket, were plunged into the vast pockets of + his outer garment. + </p> + <p> + Just as he reached the threshold of the door, no doubt with the intention + of speaking to the portress, he perceived Rose-Pompon. “What!” + he exclaimed, “my pupil already stirring? That is fortunate. I came + on purpose to bless her at the rise of morn!” + </p> + <p> + So saying, Ninny Moulin advanced with open arms towards Rose-Pompon who + drew back a step. + </p> + <p> + “What, ungrateful child!” resumed the writer on divinity. + “Will you refuse me the morning’s paternal kiss?” + </p> + <p> + “I accept paternal kisses from none but Philemon. I had a letter + from him yesterday, with a jar of preserves, two geese, a bottle of + home-made brandy, and an eel. What ridiculous presents! I kept the drink, + and changed the rest for two darling live pigeons, which I have installed + in Philemon’s cabinet, and a very pretty dove-cote it makes me. For + the rest, my husband is coming back with seven hundred francs, which he + got from his respectable family, under pretence of learning the bass viol, + the cornet-a-piston, and the speaking trumpet, so as to make his way in + society, and a slap-up marriage—to use your expression—my good + child.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, my dear pupil, we will taste the family brandy, and enjoy + ourselves in expectation of Philemon and his seven hundred francs.” + </p> + <p> + So saying, Ninny Moulin slapped the pockets of his waistcoat, which gave + forth a metallic sound, and added: “I come to propose to you to + embellish my life, to-day and to-morrow, and even the day after, if your + heart is willing.” + </p> + <p> + “If the announcements are decent and fraternal, my heart does not + say no.” + </p> + <p> + “Be satisfied; I will act by you as your grandfather, your great + grandfather, your family portrait. We will have a ride, a dinner, the + play, a fancy dress ball, and a supper afterwards. Will that suit you?” + </p> + <p> + “On condition that poor Cephyse is to go with us. It will raise her + spirits.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, Cephyse shall be of the party.” + </p> + <p> + “Have you come into a fortune, great apostle?” + </p> + <p> + “Better than that, most rosy and pompous of all Rose-Pom, pons! I am + head editor of a religious journal; and as I must make some appearance in + so respectable a concern, I ask every month for four weeks in advance, and + three days of liberty. On this condition, I consent to play the saint for + twenty-seven days out of thirty, and to be always as grave and heavy as + the paper itself.” + </p> + <p> + “A journal! that will be something droll, and dance forbidden steps + all alone on the tables of the cafes.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, it will be droll enough; but not for everybody. They are rich + sacristans, who pay the expenses. They don’t look to money, provided + the journal bites, tears, burns, pounds, exterminates and destroys. On my + word of honor, I shall never have been in such a fury!” added Ninny + Moulin, with a loud, hoarse laugh. “I shall wash the wounds of my + adversaries with venom of the finest vintage, and gall of the first + quality.” + </p> + <p> + For his peroration, Ninny Moulin imitated the pop of uncorking a bottle of + champagne—which made Rose-Pompon laugh heartily. + </p> + <p> + “And what,” resumed she, “will be the name of your + journal of sacristans?” + </p> + <p> + “It will be called ‘Neighborly Love.’” + </p> + <p> + “Come! that is a very pretty name.” + </p> + <p> + “Wait a little! there is a second title.” + </p> + <p> + “Let us hear it.” + </p> + <p> + “‘Neighborly Love; or, the Exterminator of the Incredulous, + the Indifferent, the Lukewarm, and Others,’ with this motto from the + great Bossuet: ‘Those who are not for us are against us.’” + </p> + <p> + “That is what Philemon says in the battles at the Chaumiere, when he + shakes his cane.” + </p> + <p> + “Which proves, that the genius of the Eagle of Meaux is universal. I + only reproach him for having been jealous of Moliere.” + </p> + <p> + “Bah! actor’s jealousy,” said Rose-Pompon. + </p> + <p> + “Naughty girl!” cried Ninny Moulin, threatening her with his + finger. + </p> + <p> + “But if you are going to exterminate Madame de la Sainte-Colombo, + who is somewhat lukewarm—how about your marriage?” + </p> + <p> + “My journal will advance it, on the contrary. Only think! editor-In + chief is a superb position; the sacristans will praise, and push, and + support, and bless me; I shall get La-Sainte-Colombe—and then, what + a life I’ll lead!” + </p> + <p> + At this moment, a postman entered the shop, and delivered a letter to the + greengrocer, saying: “For M. Charlemagne, post-paid!” + </p> + <p> + “My!” said Rose-Pompon; “it is for the little mysterious + old man, who has such extraordinary ways. Does it come from far?” + </p> + <p> + “I believe you; it comes from Italy, from Rome,” said Ninny + Moulin, looking in his turn at the letter, which the greengrocer held in + her hand. “Who is the astonishing little old man of whom you speak?” + </p> + <p> + “Just imagine to yourself, my great apostle,” said + Rose-Pompon, “a little old man, who has two rooms at the bottom of + that court. He never sleeps there, but comes from time to time, and shuts + himself up for hours, without ever allowing any one to enter his lodging, + and without any one knowing what he does there.” + </p> + <p> + “He is a conspirator,” said Ninny Moulin, laughing, “or + else a comer.” + </p> + <p> + “Poor dear man,” said Mother Arsene, “what has he done + with his false money? He pays me always in sous for the bit of bread and + the radish I furnish him for his breakfast.” + </p> + <p> + “And what is the name of this mysterious chap?” asked + Dumoulin. + </p> + <p> + “M. Charlemagne,” said the greengrocer. “But look, + surely one speaks of the devil, one is sure to see his horns.” + </p> + <p> + “Where’s the horns?” + </p> + <p> + “There, by the side of the house—that little old man, who + walks with his neck awry, and his umbrella under his arm.” + </p> + <p> + “M. Rodin!” ejaculated Ninny Moulin, retreating hastily, and + descending three steps into the shop, in order not to be seen. Then he + added. “You say, that this gentleman calls himself—” + </p> + <p> + “M. Charlemagne—do you know him?” asked the greengrocer. + </p> + <p> + “What the devil does he do here, under a false name?” said + Jacques Dumoulin to himself. + </p> + <p> + “You know him?” said Rose-Pompon, with impatience. “You + are quite confused.” + </p> + <p> + “And this gentleman has two rooms in this house, and comes here + mysteriously,” said Jacques Dumoulin, more and more surprised. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” resumed Rose-Pompon; “you can see his windows + from Philemon’s dove-cote.” + </p> + <p> + “Quick! quick! let me go into the passage, that I may not meet him,” + said Dumoulin. + </p> + <p> + And, without having been perceived by Rodin, he glided from the shop into + the passage, and thence mounted to the stairs, which led to the apartment + occupied by Rose-Pompon. + </p> + <p> + “Good-morning, M. Charlemagne,” said Mother Arsene to Rodin, + who made his appearance on the threshold. “You come twice in a day; + that is right, for your visits are extremely rare.” + </p> + <p> + “You are too polite, my good lady,” said Rodin, with a very + courteous bow; and he entered the shop of the greengrocer. + </p> + <p> + (21) There are, really, ordinances, full of a touching interest for the + canine race, which forbid the harnessing of dogs. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0082" id="link2HCH0082"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXIX. THE DEN. + </h2> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">R</span>odin’s + countenance, when he entered Mother Arsene’s shop, was expressive of + the most simple candor. He leaned his hands on the knob of his umbrella, + and said: “I much regret, my good lady, that I roused you so early + this morning.” + </p> + <p> + “You do not come often enough, my dear sir, for me to find fault + with you.” + </p> + <p> + “How can I help it, my good lady? I live in the country, and only + come hither from time to time to settle my little affairs.” + </p> + <p> + “Talking of that sir, the letter you expected yesterday has arrived + this morning. It is large, and comes from far. Here it is,” said the + greengrocer, drawing it from her pocket; “it cost nothing for + postage.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you, my dear lady,” said Rodin, taking the letter with + apparent indifference, and putting it into the side-pocket of his + great-coat, which he carefully buttoned over. + </p> + <p> + “Are you going up to your rooms, sir?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, my good, lady.” + </p> + <p> + “Then I will get ready your little provisions,” said Mother + Arsene; “as usual, I suppose, my dear sir?” + </p> + <p> + “Just as usual.” + </p> + <p> + “It shall be ready in the twinkling of an eye, sir.” + </p> + <p> + So saying, the greengrocer took down an old basket; after throwing into it + three or four pieces of turf, a little bundle of wood, and some charcoal, + she covered all this fuel with a cabbage leaf; then, going to the further + end of the shop, she took from a chest a large round loaf, cut off a + slice, and selecting a magnificent radish with the eye of a connoisseur, + divided it in two, made a hole in it, which she filled with gray salt + joined the two pieces together again, and placed it carefully by the side + of the bread, on the cabbage leaf which separated the eatables from the + combustibles. Finally, taking some embers from the stove, she put them + into a little earthen pot, containing ashes, which she placed also in the + basket. + </p> + <p> + Then, reascending to her top step, Mother Arsene said to Rodin: “Here + is your basket, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “A thousand thanks, my good lady,” answered Rodin, and + plunging his hand into the pocket of his trousers, he drew forth eight + sous, which he counted out only one by one to the greengrocer, and said to + her, as he carried off his store: “Presently, when I come down + again, I will return your basket as usual.” + </p> + <p> + “Quite at your service, my dear sir, quite at your service,” + said Mother Arsene. + </p> + <p> + Rodin tucked his umbrella under his left arm, took up the greengrocer’s + basket with his right hand, entered the dark passage, crossed the little + court and mounted with light step to the second story of a dilapidated + building; there, drawing a key from his pocket, he opened a door, which he + locked carefully after him. The first of the two rooms which he occupied + was completely unfurnished, as for the second, it is impossible to imagine + a more gloomy and miserable den. Papering so much worn, torn and faded, + that no one could recognize its primitive color, bedecked the walls. A + wretched flock-bed, covered with a moth-fretted blanket; a stool, and a + little table of worm-eaten wood; an earthenware stove, as cracked as old + china; a trunk with a padlock, placed under the bed—such was the + furniture of this desolate hole. A narrow window, with dirty panes, hardly + gave any light to this room, which was almost deprived of air by the + height of the building in front; two old cotton pocket handkerchiefs, + fastened together with pins, and made to slide upon a string stretched + across the window, served for curtains. The plaster of the roof, coming + through the broken and disjointed tiles, showed the extreme neglect of the + inhabitant of this abode. After locking his door, Rodin threw his hat and + umbrella on the bed, placed his basket on the ground, set the radish and + bread on the table, and kneeling down before his stove, stuffed it with + fuel, and lighted it by blowing with vigorous lungs on the embers + contained in his earthen pot. + </p> + <p> + When, to use the consecrated expression, the stove began to draw, Rodin + spread out the handkerchiefs, which served him for curtains; then, + thinking himself quite safe from every eye, he took from the side-pocket + of his great-coat the letter that Mother Arsene had given him. In doing + so, he brought out several papers and different articles; one of these + papers, folded into a thick and rumpled packet, fell upon the table, and + flew open. It contained a silver cross of the Legion of Honor, black with + time. The red ribbon of this cross had almost entirely lost its original + color. At sight of this cross, which he replaced in his pocket with the + medal of which Faringhea had despoiled Djalma, Rodin shrugged his + shoulders with a contemptuous and sardonic air; then, producing his large + silver watch, he laid it on the table by the side of the letter from Rome. + He looked at this letter with a singular mixture of suspicion and hope, of + fear, and impatient curiosity. After a moment’s reflection, he + prepared to unseal the envelope; but suddenly he threw it down again upon + the table, as if, by a strange caprice, he had wished to prolong for a few + minutes that agony of uncertainty, as poignant and irritating as the + emotion of the gambler. + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:65%;"> + <img src="images/20287m.jpg" alt="20287m” width=" /><br /> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/20287.jpg"><i>Original</i></a> + </h5> + <p> + Looking at his watch, Rodin resolved not to open the letter, until the + hand should mark half-past nine, of which it still wanted seven minutes. + In one of those whims of puerile fatalism, from which great minds have not + been exempt, Rodin said to himself: “I burn with impatience to open + this letter. If I do not open it till half-past nine, the news will be + favorable.” To employ these minutes, Rodin took several turns up and + down the room, and stood in admiring contemplation before two old prints, + stained with damp and age, and fastened to the wall by rusty nails. The + first of these works of art—the only ornaments with which Rodin had + decorated this hole—was one of those coarse pictures, illuminated + with red, yellow, green, and blue, such as are sold at fairs; an Italian + inscription announced that this print had been manufactured at Rome. It + represented a woman covered with rags, bearing a wallet, and having a + little child upon her knees; a horrible hag of a fortune-teller held in + her hands the hand of the little child, and seemed to read there his + future fate, for these words in large blue letters issued from her mouth: + “Sara Papa” (he shall be Pope). + </p> + <p> + The second of these works of art, which appeared to inspire Rodin with + deep meditations, was an excellent etching, whose careful finish and bold, + correct drawing, contrasted singularly with the coarse coloring of the + other picture. This rare and splendid engraving, which had cost Rodin six + louis (an enormous expense for him), represented a young boy dressed in + rags. The ugliness of his features was compensated by the intellectual + expression of his strongly marked countenance. Seated on a stone, + surrounded by a herd of swine, that he seemed employed in keeping, he was + seen in front, with his elbow resting on his knee, and his chin in the + palm of his hand. The pensive and reflective attitude of this young man, + dressed as a beggar, the power expressed in his large forehead, the + acuteness of his penetrating glance, and the firm lines of the mouth, + seemed to reveal indomitable resolution, combined with superior + intelligence and ready craft. Beneath this figure, the emblems of the + papacy encircled a medallion, in the centre of which was the head of an + old man, the lines of which, strongly marked, recalled in a striking + manner, notwithstanding their look of advanced age, the features of the + young swineherd. This engraving was entitled THE YOUTH of SIXTUS V.; the + color print was entitled The Prediction.(22) + </p> + <p> + In contemplating these prints more and more nearly, with ardent and + inquiring eye, as though he had asked for hopes or inspirations from them, + Rodin had come so close that, still standing, with his right arm bent + behind his head, he rested, as it were, against the wall, whilst, hiding + his left hand in the pocket of his black trousers, he thus held back one + of the flaps of his olive great-coat. For some minutes, he remained in + this meditative attitude. + </p> + <p> + Rodin, as we have said, came seldom to this lodging; according to the + rules of his Order, he had till now lived with Father d’Aigrigny, + whom he was specially charged to watch. No member of the Society, + particularly in the subaltern position which Rodin had hitherto held, + could either shut himself in, or possess an article of furniture made to + lock. By this means nothing interferes with the mutual spy-system, + incessantly carried on, which forms one of the most powerful resources of + the Company of Jesus. It was on account of certain combinations, purely + personal to himself, though connected on some points with the interests of + the Order, that Rodin, unknown to all, had taken these rooms in the Rue + Clovis. And it was from the depths of this obscure den that the socius + corresponded directly with the most eminent and influential personages of + the sacred college. On one occasion, when Rodin wrote to Rome, that Father + d’Aigrigny, having received orders to quit France without seeing his + dying mother, had hesitated to set out, the socius had added, in form of + postscriptum, at the bottom of the letter denouncing to the General of the + Order the hesitation of Father d’Aigrigny: + </p> + <p> + “Tell the Prince Cardinal that he may rely upon me, but I hope for + his active aid in return.” + </p> + <p> + This familiar manner of corresponding with the most powerful dignitary of + the Order, the almost patronizing tone of the recommendation that Rodin + addressed to the Prince Cardinal, proved that the socius, notwithstanding + his apparently subaltern position, was looked upon, at that epoch, as a + very important personage, by many of the Princes of the Church, who wrote + to him at Paris under a false name, making use of a cipher and other + customary precautions. After some moments passed in contemplation, before + the portrait of Sixtus V., Rodin returned slowly to the table, on which + lay the letter, which, by a sort of superstitious delay, he had deferred + opening, notwithstanding his extreme curiosity. As it still wanted some + minutes of half-past nine, Rodin, in order not to lose time, set about + making preparations for his frugal breakfast. He placed on the table, by + the side of an inkstand, furnished with pens, the slice of bread and the + radish; then seating himself on his stool, with the stove, as it were, + between his legs, he drew a horn-handled knife from his pocket, and + cutting alternately a morsel of bread and a morsel of radish, with a + sharp, well-worn blade, he began his temperate repast with a vigorous + appetite, keeping his eye fixed on the hand of his watch. When it reached + the momentous hour, he unsealed the envelope with a trembling hand. + </p> + <p> + It contained two letters. The first appeared to give him little + satisfaction; for, after some minutes, he shrugged his shoulders, struck + the table impatiently with the handle of his knife, disdainfully pushed + aside the letter with the back of his dirty hand, and perused the second + epistle, holding his bread in one hand, and with the other mechanically + dipping a slice of radish into the gray salt spilt on a corner of the + table. Suddenly, Rodin’s hand remained motionless. As he progressed + in his reading, he appeared more and more interested, surprised, and + struck. Rising abruptly, he ran to the window, as if to assure himself, by + a second examination of the cipher, that he was not deceived. The news + announced to him in the letter seemed to be unexpected. No doubt, Rodin + found that he had deciphered correctly, for, letting fall his arms, not in + dejection, but with the stupor of a satisfaction as unforeseen as + extraordinary, he remained for some time with his head down, and his eyes + fixed—the only mark of joy that he gave being manifested by a loud, + frequent, and prolonged respiration. Men who are as audacious in their + ambition, as they are patient and obstinate in their mining and + countermining, are surprised at their own success, when this latter + precedes and surpasses their wise and prudent expectations. Rodin was now + in this case. Thanks to prodigies of craft, address, and dissimulation, + thanks to mighty promises of corruption, thanks to the singular mixture of + admiration, fear, and confidence, with which his genius inspired many + influential persons, Rodin now learned from members of the pontifical + government, that, in case of a possible and probable occurrence, he might, + within a given time, aspire, with a good chance of success, to a position + which has too often excited the fear, the hate, or the envy of many + sovereigns, and which has in turn, been occupied by great, good men, by + abominable scoundrels, and by persons risen from the lowest grades of + society. But for Rodin to attain this end with certainty, it was + absolutely necessary for him to succeed in that project, which he had + undertaken to accomplish without violence, and only by the play and the + rebound of passions skillfully managed. The project was: To secure for the + Society of Jesus the fortune of the Rennepont family. + </p> + <p> + This possession would thus have a double and immense result; for Rodin, + acting in accordance with his personal views, intended to make of his + Order (whose chief was at his discretion) a stepping-stone and a means of + intimidation. When his first impression of surprise had passed away—an + impression that was only a sort of modesty of ambition and self + diffidence, not uncommon with men of really superior powers—Rodin + looked more coldly and logically on the matter, and almost reproached + himself for his surprise. But soon after, by a singular contradiction, + yielding to one of those puerile and absurd ideas, by which men are often + carried away when they think themselves alone and unobserved, Rodin rose + abruptly, took the letter which had caused him such glad surprise, and + went to display it, as it were, before the eyes of the young swineherd in + the picture: then, shaking his head proudly and triumphantly, casting his + reptile-glance on the portrait, he muttered between his teeth, as he + placed his dirty finger on the pontifical emblem: “Eh, brother? and + I also—perhaps!” + </p> + <p> + After this ridiculous interpolation, Rodin returned to his seat, and, as + if the happy news he had just received had increased his appetite, he + placed the letter before him, to read it once more, whilst he exercised + his teeth, with a sort of joyous fury, on his hard bread and radish, + chanting an old Litany. + </p> + <p> + There was something strange, great, and, above all, frightful, in the + contrast afforded by this immense ambition, already almost justified by + events, and contained, as it were, in so miserable an abode. Father d’Aigrigny + (who, if not a very superior man, had at least some real value, was a + person of high birth, very haughty, and placed in the best society) would + never have ventured to aspire to what Rodin thus looked to from the first. + The only aim of Father d’Aigrigny, and even this he thought + presumptuous, was to be one day elected General of his Order—that + Order which embraced the world. The difference of the ambitious aptitudes + of these two personages is conceivable. When a man of eminent abilities, + of a healthy and vivacious nature, concentrates all the strength of his + mind and body upon a single point, remaining, like Rodin, obstinately + chaste and frugal, and renouncing every gratification of the heart and the + senses—the man, who revolts against the sacred designs of his + Creator, does so almost always in favor of some monstrous and devouring + passion—some infernal divinity, which, by a sacrilegious pact, asks + of him, in return for the bestowal of formidable power, the destruction of + every noble sentiment, and of all those ineffable attractions and tender + instincts with which the Maker, in His eternal wisdom and inexhaustible + munificence, has so paternally endowed His creatures. + </p> + <p> + During the scene that we have just described, Rodin had not perceived that + the curtain of a window on the third story of the building opposite had + been partially drawn aside, and had half-revealed the sprightly face of + Rose-Pompon, and the Silenus-like countenance of Ninny Moulin. It ensued + that Rodin, notwithstanding his barricade of cotton handkerchiefs, had not + been completely sheltered from the indiscreet and curious examination of + the two dancers of the Storm-blown Tulip. + </p> + <p> + (22) According to the tradition, it was predicted to the mother of Sixtus + V., that he would be pope; and, in his youth, he is said to have kept + swine. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0083" id="link2HCH0083"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXX. AN UNEXPECTED VISIT. + </h2> + <div class="fig" style="width:65%;"> + <img src="images/20295m.jpg" alt="20295m” width=" /><br /> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/20295.jpg"><i>Original</i></a> + </h5> + <p> + Though Rodin had experienced much surprise on reading the second letter + from Rome, he did not choose that his answer should betray any such + amazement. Having finished his frugal breakfast, he took a sheet of paper, + and rapidly wrote in cipher the following note, in the short, abrupt style + that was natural to him when not obliged to restrain himself: + </p> + <p> + “The information does not surprise me. I had foreseen it all. + Indecision and cowardice always bear such fruit. This is not enough. + Heretical Russia murders Catholic Poland. Rome blesses the murderers, and + curses the victims.(23) + </p> + <p> + “Let it pass. + </p> + <p> + “In return, Russia guarantees to Rome, by Austria, the bloody + suppression of the patriots of Romagna. + </p> + <p> + “That, too, is well. + </p> + <p> + “The cut-throat band of good Cardinal Albani is not sufficient for + the massacre of the impious liberals. They are weary of the task. + </p> + <p> + “Not so well. They must go on.” + </p> + <p> + When Rodin had written these last words, his attention was suddenly + attracted by the clear and sonorous voice of Rose-Pompon, who, knowing her + Beranger by heart, had opened Philemon’s window, and, seated on the + sill, sang with much grace and prettiness this verse of the immortal + song-writer: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “How wrong you are! Is’t you dare say + That heaven ever scowls on earth? + The earth that laughs up to its blue, + The earth that owes it joy and birth? + Oh, may the wine from vines it warms, + May holy love thence fluttering down, + Lend my philosophy their charms, + To drive away care’s direful frown! + So, firm let’s stand, + Full glass in hand, + And all evoke + The God of honest folk!” + </pre> + <p> + This song, in its divine gentleness, contrasted so strangely with the cold + cruelty of the few lines written by Rodin, that he started and bit his + lips with rage, as he recognized the words of the great poet, truly + Christian, who had dealt such rude blows to the false Church. Rodin waited + for some moments with angry impatience, thinking the voice would continue; + but Rose-Pompon was silent, or only continued to hum, and soon changed to + another air, that of the Good Pope, which she entoned, but without words. + Rodin, not venturing to look out of his window to see who was this + troublesome warbler, shrugged his shoulders, resumed his pen, and + continued: + </p> + <p> + “To it again. We must exasperate the independent spirits in all + countries—excite philosophic rage all over Europe make liberalism + foam at the mouth—raise all that is wild and noisy against Rome. To + effect this, we must proclaim in the face of the world these three + propositions. 1. It is abominable to assert that a man may be saved in any + faith whatever, provided his morals be pure. 2. It is odious and absurd to + grant liberty of conscience to the people. 3. The liberty of the press + cannot be held in too much horror.24 + </p> + <p> + “We must bring the Pap-fed man to declare these propositions in + every respect orthodox—show him their good effect upon despotic + governments—upon true Catholics, the muzzlers of the people. He will + fall into the snare. The propositions once published, the storm will burst + forth. A general rising against Rome—a wide schism—the sacred + college divided into three parties. One approves—the other blames—the + third trembles. The Sick Man, still more frightened than he is now at + having allowed the destruction of Poland, will shrink from the clamors, + reproaches, threats, and violent ruptures that he has occasioned. + </p> + <p> + “That is well—and goes far. + </p> + <p> + “Then, set the Pope to shaking the conscience of the Sick Man, to + disturb his mind, and terrify his soul. + </p> + <p> + “To sum up. Make everything bitter to him—divide his council—isolate + him—frighten him—redouble the ferocious ardor of good Albini—revive + the appetite of the Sanfedists(25)—give them a gulf of liberals—let + there be pillage, rape, massacre, as at Cesena—a downright river of + Carbonaro blood—the Sick Man will have a surfeit of it. So many + butcheries in his name—he will shrink, be sure he will shrink—every + day will have its remorse, every night its terror, every minute its + anguish; and the abdication he already threatens will come at last—perhaps + too soon. That is now the only danger; you must provide against it. + </p> + <p> + “In case of an abdication, the grand penitentiary has understood me. + Instead of confiding to a general the direction of our Order, the best + militia of the Holy See, I should command it myself. Thenceforward this + militia would give me no uneasiness. For instance: the Janissaries and the + Praetorian Guards were always fatal to authority—why?—because + they were able to organize themselves as defenders of the government, + independently of the government; hence their power of intimidation. + </p> + <p> + “Clement XIV. was a fool. To brand and abolish our Company was an + absurd fault. To protect and make it harmless, by declaring himself the + General of the Order, is what he should have done. The Company, then at + his mercy, would have consented to anything. He would have absorbed us, + made us vassals of the Holy See, and would no longer have had to fear our + services. Clement XIV. died of the cholic. Let him heed who hears. In a + similar case, I should not die the same death.” + </p> + <p> + Just then, the clear and liquid voice of Rose-Pompon was again heard. + Rodin bounded with rage upon his seat; but soon, as he listened to the + following verse, new to him (for, unlike Philemon’s widow, he had + not his Beranger at his fingers’ ends), the Jesuit, accessible to + certain odd, superstitious notions, was confused and almost frightened at + so singular a coincidence. It is Beranger’s Good Pope who speaks— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “What are monarchs? sheepish sots! + Or they’re robbers, puffed with pride, + Wearing badges of crime blots, + Till their certain graves gape wide. + If they’ll pour out coin for me, + I’ll absolve them—skin and bone! + If they haggle—they shall see, + My nieces dancing on their throne! + So laugh away! + Leap, my fay! + Only watch one hurt the thunder + First of all by Zeus under, + I’m the Pope, the whole world’s wonder!” + </pre> + <p> + Rodin, half-risen from his chair, with outstretched neck and attentive + eye, was still listening, when Rose-Pompon, flitting like a bee from + flower to flower of her repertoire, had already begun the delightful air + of Colibri. Hearing no more, the Jesuit reseated himself, in a sort of + stupor; but, after some minutes’ reflection, his countenance again + brightened up, and he seemed to see a lucky omen in this singular + incident. He resumed his pen, and the first words he wrote partook, as it + were, of this strange confidence in fate. + </p> + <p> + “I have never had more hope of success than at this moment. Another + reason to neglect nothing. Every presentiment demands redoubled zeal. A + new thought occurred to me yesterday. + </p> + <p> + “We shall act here in concert. I have founded an ultra-Catholic + paper called Neighborly Love. From its ultramontane, tyrannical, + liberticidal fury, it will be thought the organ of Rome. I will confirm + these reports. They will cause new terrors. + </p> + <p> + “That will be well. + </p> + <p> + “I shall raise the question of the liberty of instruction. The raw + liberals will support us. Like fools, they admit us to equal rights; when + our privileges, our influence of the confessional, our obedience to Rome, + all place us beyond the circle of equal rights, by the advantages which we + enjoy. Double fools! they think us disarmed, because they have disarmed + themselves towards us. + </p> + <p> + “A burning question—irritating clamors—new cause of + disgust for the Weak Man. Every little makes a mickle. + </p> + <p> + “That also is very well. + </p> + <p> + “To sum up all in two words. The end is abdication—the means, + vexation, incessant torture. The Rennepont inheritance wilt pay for the + election. The price agreed, the merchandise will be sold.” + </p> + <p> + Rodin here paused abruptly, thinking he had heard some noise at that door + of his, which opened on the staircase; therefore he listened with + suspended breath; but all remaining silent, he thought he must have been + deceived, and took up his pen: + </p> + <p> + “I will take care of the Rennepont business—the hinge on which + will turn our temporal operations. We must begin from the foundation—substitute + the play of interests, and the springs of passion, for the stupid club law + of Father d’Aigrigny. He nearly compromised everything—and yet + he has good parts, knows the world, has powers of seduction, quick insight—but + plays ever in a single key, and is not great enough to make himself + little. In his stead, I shall know how to make use of him. There is good + stuff in the man. I availed myself in time of the full powers given by the + R. F. G.; I may inform Father d’Aigrigny, in case of need, of the + secret engagements taken by the General towards myself. Until now, I have + let him invent for this inheritance the destination that you know of. A + good thought, but unseasonable. The same end, by other means. + </p> + <p> + “The information was false. There are over two hundred millions. + Should the eventuality occur, what was doubtful must become certain. An + immense latitude is left us. The Rennepont business is now doubly mine, + and within three months, the two hundred millions will be ours, by the + free will of the heirs themselves. It must be so; for this failing, the + temporal part would escape me, and my chances be diminished by one half. I + have asked for full powers; time presses, and I act as if I had them. One + piece of information is indispensable for the success of my projects. I + expect it from you, and I must have it; do you understand me? The powerful + influence of your brother at the Court of Vienna will serve you in this. I + wish to have the most precise details as to the present position of the + Duke de Reichstadt—the Napoleon II. of the Imperialists. Is it + possible, by means of your brother, to open a secret correspondence with + the prince, unknown to his attendants? + </p> + <p> + “Look to this promptly. It is urgent. This note will be sent off to + day. I shall complete it to-morrow. It will reach you, as usual, by the + hands of the petty shopkeeper.” + </p> + <p> + At the moment when Rodin was sealing this letter within a double envelope, + he thought that he again heard a noise at the door. He listened. After + some silence, several knocks were distinctly audible. Rodin started. It + was the first time any one had knocked at his door, since nearly a + twelve-month that he occupied this room. Hastily placing the letter in his + great-coat pocket, the Jesuit opened the old trunk under his bed, took + from it a packet of papers wrapped in a tattered cotton handkerchief, + added to them the two letters in cipher he had just received, and + carefully relocked the trunk. The knocking continued without, and seemed + to show more and more impatience. Rodin took the greengrocer’s + basket in his hand, tucked his umbrella under his arm, and went with some + uneasiness to ascertain who was this unexpected visitor. He opened the + door, and found himself face to face with Rose-Pompon, the troublesome + singer, and who now, with a light and pretty courtesy, said to him in the + most guileless manner in the world, “M. Rodin, if you please?” + </p> + <p> + (23) On page 110 of Lamennais’ Affaires de Rome, will be seen the + following admirable scathing of Rome by the most truly evangelical spirit + of our age: “So long as the issue of the conflict between Poland and + her oppressors remained in the balances, the papal official organ + contained not one word to offend the so long victorious nation; but hardly + had she gone down under the Czar’s atrocious vengeance, and the long + torture of a whole land doomed to rack, and exile, and servitude began, + than this same journal found no language black enough to stain those whom + fortune had fled. Yet it is wrong to charge this unworthy insult to papal + power; it only cringes to the law which Russia lays down to it, when it + says: + </p> + <p> + “‘If you want to keep your own bones unbroken, bide where you + are, beside the scaffold, and, as the victims pass, hoot at them!’” + </p> + <p> + (24) See Pope Gregory XVI.‘s Encyclical Letter to the Bishops in + France, 1832. + </p> + <p> + (25) Hardly had the Sixteenth Gregory ascended the pontifical throne, than + news came of the rising in Bologna. His first idea was to call the + Austrians, and incite the Sanfedist volunteer bands of fanatics. Cardinal + Albini defeated the liberals at Cesena, where his followers pillaged + churches, sacked the town, and ill-treated women. At Forli, cold-blooded + murders were committed. In 1832 the Sanfedists (Holy Faithites) openly + paraded their medals, bearing the heads of the Duke of Modena and the + Pope; letters issued by the apostolic confederation; privileges and + indulgences. They took the following oath: “I. A. B., vow to rear + the throne and altar over the bones of infamous freedom shriekers, and + exterminate these latter without pity for children’s cries and women’s + tears.” The disorders perpetrated by these marauders went beyond all + bounds; the Romish Court regularized anarchy and organized the Sanfedists + into volunteer corps, to which fresh privileges were granted. (Revue deux + Mondes, Nov. 15th, 1844.—“La Revolution en Italie.”) + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0084" id="link2HCH0084"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXXI. FRIENDLY SERVICES. + </h2> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">N</span>otwithstanding his + surprise and uneasiness, Rodin did not frown. He began by locking his door + after him, as he noticed the young girl’s inquisitive glance. Then + he said to her good-naturedly, “Who do you want, my dear?” + </p> + <p> + “M. Rodin,” repeated Rose-Pompon, stoutly, opening her bright + blue eyes to their full extent, and looking Rodin full in the face. + </p> + <p> + “It’s not here,” said he, moving towards the stairs. + “I do not know him. Inquire above or below.” + </p> + <p> + “No, you don’t! giving yourself airs at your age!” said + Rose-Pompon, shrugging her shoulders. “As if we did not know that + you are M. Rodin.” + </p> + <p> + “Charlemagne,” said the socius, bowing; “Charlemagne, to + serve you—if I am able.” + </p> + <p> + “You are not able,” answered Rose-Pompon, majestically; then + she added with a mocking air, “So, we have our little pussy-cat + hiding-places; we change our name; we are afraid Mamma Rodin will find us + out.” + </p> + <p> + “Come, my dear child,” said the socius, with a paternal smile; + “you have come to the right quarter. I am an old man, but I love + youth—happy, joyous youth! Amuse yourself, pray, at my expense. Only + let me pass, for I am in a hurry.” And Rodin again advanced towards + the stairs. + </p> + <p> + “M. Rodin,” said Rose-Pompon, in a solemn voice, “I have + very important things to say to you, and advice to ask about a love + affair.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, little madcap that you are! have you nobody to tease in your + own house, that you must come here?” + </p> + <p> + “I lodge in this house, M. Rodin,” answered Rose-Pompon, + laying a malicious stress on the name of her victim. + </p> + <p> + “You? Oh, dear, only to think I did not know I had such a pretty + neighbor.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I have lodged here six months, M. Rodin.” + </p> + <p> + “Really! where?” + </p> + <p> + “On the third story, front, M. Rodin.” + </p> + <p> + “It was you, then, that sang so well just now?” + </p> + <p> + “Rather.” + </p> + <p> + “You gave me great pleasure, I must say.” + </p> + <p> + “You are very polite, M. Rodin.” + </p> + <p> + “You lodge, I suppose, with your respectable family?” + </p> + <p> + “I believe you, M. Rodin,” said Rose-Pompon, casting down her + eyes with a timid air. “I lodge with Grandpapa Philemon, and + Grandmamma Bacchanal—who is a queen and no mistake.” + </p> + <p> + Rodin had hitherto been seriously uneasy, not knowing in what manner Rose + had discovered his real name. But on hearing her mention the Bacchanal + queen, with the information that she lodged in the house, he found + something to compensate for the disagreeable incident of Rose-Pompon’s + appearance. It was, indeed, important to Rodin to find out the Bacchanal + Queen, the mistress of Sleepinbuff, and the sister of Mother Bunch, who + had been noted as dangerous since her interview with the superior of the + convent, and the part she had taken in the projected escape of Mdlle. de + Cardoville. Moreover, Rodin hoped—thanks to what he had just heard—to + bring Rose-Pompon to confess to him the name of the person from whom she + had learned that “Charlemagne” masked “Rodin.” + </p> + <p> + Hardly had the young girl pronounced the name of the Bacchanal queen, than + Rodin clasped his hands, and appeared as much surprised as interested. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, my dear child,” he exclaimed, “I conjure you not to + jest on this subject. Are you speaking of a young girl who bears that + nickname, the sister of a deformed needlewoman.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir, the Bacchanal Queen is her nickname,” said + Rose-Pompon, astonished in her turn; “she is really Cephyse + Soliveau, and she is my friend.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! she is your friend?” said Rodin, reflecting. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir, my bosom friend.” + </p> + <p> + “So you love her?” + </p> + <p> + “Like a sister. Poor girl! I do what I can for her, and that’s + not much. But how comes it that a respectable man of your age should know + the Bacchanal Queen?—Ah! that shows you have a false name!” + </p> + <p> + “My dear child, I am no longer inclined to laugh,” said Rodin, + with so sorrowful an air, that Rose-Pompon, reproaching herself with her + pleasantry, said to him: “But how comes it that you know Cephyse?” + </p> + <p> + “Alas! I do not know her—but a young fellow, that I like + excessively—” + </p> + <p> + “Jacques Rennepont?” + </p> + <p> + “Otherwise called Sleepinbuff. He is now in prison for debt,” + sighed Rodin. “I saw him yesterday.” + </p> + <p> + “You saw him yesterday?—how strange!” said Rose-Pompon, + clapping her hands. “Quick! quick!—come over to Philemon’s, + to give Cephyse news of her lover. She is so uneasy about him.” + </p> + <p> + “My dear child, I should like to give her good news of that worthy + fellow, whom I like in spite of his follies, for who has not been guilty + of follies?” added Rodin, with indulgent good-nature. + </p> + <p> + “To be sure,” said Rose-Pompon, twisting about as if she still + wore the costume of a debardeur. + </p> + <p> + “I will say more,” added Rodin: “I love him because of + his follies; for, talk as we may, my dear child, there is always something + good at bottom, a good heart, or something, in those who spend generously + their money for other people.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, come! you are a very good sort of a man,” said + Rose-Pompon, enchanted with Rodin’s philosophy. “But why will + you not come and see Cephyse, and talk to her of Jacques?” + </p> + <p> + “Of what use would it be to tell her what she knows already—that + Jacques is in prison? What I should like, would be to get the worthy + fellow out of his scrape.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, sir! only do that, only get Jacques out of prison,” cried + Rose Pompon, warmly, “and we will both give you a kiss—me and + Cephyse!” + </p> + <p> + “It would be throwing kisses away, dear little madcap!” said + Rodin, smiling. “But be satisfied, I want no reward to induce me to + do good when I can.” + </p> + <p> + “Then you hope to get Jacques out of prison?” + </p> + <p> + Rodin shook his head, and answered with a grieved and disappointed air. + “I did hope it. Certainly, I did hope it; but now all is changed.” + </p> + <p> + “How’s that?” asked Rose-Pompon, with surprise. + </p> + <p> + “That foolish joke of calling me M. Rodin may appear very amusing to + you, my dear child. I understand it, you being only an echo. Some one has + said to you: ‘Go and tell M. Charlemagne that he is one M. Rodin. + That will be very funny.’” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly, I should never myself have thought of calling you M. + Rodin. One does not invent such names,” answered Rose-Pompon. + </p> + <p> + “Well! that person with his foolish jokes, has done, without knowing + it, a great injury to Jacques Rennepont.” + </p> + <p> + “What! because I called you Rodin instead of Charlemagne?” + cried Rose Pompon, much regretting the pleasantry which she had carried on + at the instigation of Ninny Moulin. “But really, sir,” she + added, “what can this joke have to do with the service that you + were, about to render Jacques?” + </p> + <p> + “I am not at liberty to tell you, my child. In truth, I am very + sorry for poor Jacques. Believe me, I am; but do let me pass. + </p> + <p> + “Listen to me, sir, I beg,” said Rose-Pompon; “if I told + you the name of the person who told me to call you Rodin, would you + interest yourself again for Jacques?” + </p> + <p> + “I do not wish to know any one’s secrets, my dear child. In + all this, you have been the echo of persons who are, perhaps, very + dangerous; and, notwithstanding the interest I feel for Jacques Rennepont, + I do not wish, you understand, to make myself enemies. Heaven forbid!” + </p> + <p> + Rose-Pompon did not at all comprehend Rodin’s fears, and upon this + he had counted; for after a second’s reflection, the young girl + resumed: “Well, sir—this is too deep for me; I do not + understand it. All I know is, that I am truly sorry if I have injured a + good young man by a mere joke. I will tell you exactly how it happened. My + frankness may be of some use.” + </p> + <p> + “Frankness will often clear up the most obscure matters,” said + Rodin, sententiously. + </p> + <p> + “After all,” said Rose-Pompon, “it’s Ninny’s + fault. Why does he tell me nonsense, that might injure poor Cephyse’s + lover? You see, sir, it happened in this way. Ninny Moulin who is fond of + a joke, saw you just now in the street. The portress told him that your + name was Charlemagne. He said to me: ‘No; his name is Rodin. We must + play him a trick. Go to his room, Rose-Pompon, knock at the door, and call + him M. Rodin. You will see what a rum face he will make.’ I promised + Ninny Moulin not to name him; but I do it, rather than run the risk of + injuring Jacques.” + </p> + <p> + At Ninny Moulin’s name Rodin had not been able to repress a movement + of surprise. This pamphleteer, whom he had employed to edit the “Neighborly + Love,” was not personally formidable; but, being fond of talking in + his drink, he might become troublesome, particularly if Rodin, as was + probable, had often to visit this house, to execute his project upon + Sleepinbuff, through the medium of the Bacchanal Queen. The socius + resolved, therefore, to provide against this inconvenience. + </p> + <p> + “So, my dear child,” said he to Rose-Pompon, “it is a M. + Desmoulins that persuaded you to play off this silly joke?” + </p> + <p> + “Not Desmoulins, but Dumoulin,” corrected Rose. “He + writes in the pewholders’ papers, and defends the saints for money; + for, if Ninny Moulin is a saint, his patrons are Saint Drinkard and Saint + Flashette, as he himself declares.” + </p> + <p> + “This gentleman appears to be very gay.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! a very good fellow.” + </p> + <p> + “But stop,” resumed Rodin, appearing to recollect himself; + “ain’t he a man about thirty-six or forty, fat, with a ruddy + complexion?” + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:65%;"> + <img src="images/20303m.jpg" alt="20303m” width=" /><br /> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/20303.jpg"><i>Original</i></a> + </h5> + <p> + “Ruddy as a glass of red wine,” said Rose-Pompon, “and + with a pimpled nose like a mulberry.” + </p> + <p> + “That’s the man—M. Dumoulin. Oh! in that case, I am + quite satisfied, my dear child. The jest no longer makes me uneasy; for M. + Dumoulin is a very worthy man—only perhaps a little too fond of his + joke.” + </p> + <p> + “Then, sir, you will try to be useful to Jacques? The stupid + pleasantry of Ninny Moulin will not prevent you?” + </p> + <p> + “I hope not.” + </p> + <p> + “But I must not tell Ninny Moulin that you know it was he who sent + me to call you M. Rodin—eh, sir?” + </p> + <p> + “Why not? In every case, my dear child, it is always better to speak + frankly the truth.” + </p> + <p> + “But, sir, Ninny Moulin so strongly recommended me not to name him + to you—” + </p> + <p> + “If you have named him, it is from a very good motive; why not avow + it? However, my dear child, this concerns you, not me. Do as you think + best.” + </p> + <p> + “And may I tell Cephyse of your good intentions towards Jacques?” + </p> + <p> + “The truth, my dear child, always the truth. One need never hesitate + to say what is.” + </p> + <p> + “Poor Cephyse! how happy she will be!” cried Rose-Pompon, + cheerfully; “and the news will come just in time.” + </p> + <p> + “Only you must not exaggerate; I do not promise positively to get + this good fellow out of prison; I say, that I will do what I can. But what + I promise positively is—for, since the imprisonment of poor Jacques, + your friend must be very much straitened—” + </p> + <p> + “Alas, sir!” + </p> + <p> + “What I promise positively is some little assistance which your + friend will receive to-day, to enable her to live honestly; and if she + behaves well—hereafter—why, hereafter, we shall see.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, sir! you do not know how welcome will be your assistance to + poor Cephyse! One might fancy you were her actual good angel. Faith! you + may call yourself Rodin, or Charlemagne; all I know is, that you are a + nice, sweet—” + </p> + <p> + “Come, come, do not exaggerate,” said Rodin; “say a good + sort of old fellow; nothing more, my dear child. But see how things fall + out, sometimes! Who could have told me, when I heard you knock at my door—which, + I must say, vexed me a great deal—that it was a pretty little + neighbor of mine, who under the pretext of playing off a joke, was to put + me in the way of doing a good action? Go and comfort your friend; this + evening she will receive some assistance; and let us have hope and + confidence. Thanks be, there are still some good people in the world!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, sir! you prove it yourself.” + </p> + <p> + “Not at all! The happiness of the old is to see the young happy.” + </p> + <p> + This was said by Rodin with so much apparent kindness, that Rose-Pompon + felt the tears well up to her eyes, and answered with much emotion: + “Sir, Cephyse and me are only poor girls; there are many more + virtuous in the world; but I venture to say, we have good hearts. Now, if + ever you should be ill, only send for us; there are no Sisters of Charity + that will take better care of you. It is all that we can offer you, + without reckoning Philemon, who shall go through fire and water for you, I + give you my word for it—and Cephyse, I am sure, will answer for + Jacques also, that he will be yours in life and death.” + </p> + <p> + “You see, my dear child, that I was right in saying—a fitful + head and a good heart. Adieu, till we meet again.” + </p> + <p> + Thereupon Rodin, taking up the basket, which he had placed on the ground + by the side of his umbrella, prepared to descend the stairs. + </p> + <p> + “First of all, you must give me this basket; it will be in your way + going down,” said Rose-Pompon, taking the basket from the hands of + Rodin, notwithstanding his resistance. Then she added: “Lean upon my + arm. The stairs are so dark. You might slip.” + </p> + <p> + “I will accept your offer, my dear child, for I am not very + courageous.” Leaning paternally on the right arm of Rose-Pompon, who + held the basket in her left hand, Rodin descended the stairs, and crossed + the court-yard. + </p> + <p> + “Up there, on the third story, do you see that big face close to the + window-frame?” said Rose-Pompon suddenly to Rodin, stopping in the + centre of the little court. “That is my Ninny Moulin. Do you know + him? Is he the same as yours?” + </p> + <p> + “The same as mine,” said Rodin, raising his head, and waving + his hand very affectionately to Jacques Dumoulin, who, stupefied thereat, + retired abruptly from the window. + </p> + <p> + “The poor fellow! I am sure he is afraid of me since his foolish + joke,” said Rodin, smiling. “He is very wrong.” + </p> + <p> + And he accompanied these last words with a sinister nipping of the lips, + not perceived by Rose-Pompon. + </p> + <p> + “And now, my dear child,” said he, as they both entered the + passage, “I no longer need you assistance; return to your friend, + and tell her the good news you have heard.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir, you are right. I burn with impatience to tell her what a + good man you are.” And Rose-Pompon sprung towards the stairs. + </p> + <p> + “Stop, stop! how about my basket that the little madcap carries off + with her?” said Rodin. + </p> + <p> + “Oh true! I beg your pardon, sir. Poor Cephyse! how pleased she will + be. Adieu, sir!” And Rose-Pompon’s pretty figure disappeared + in the darkness of the staircase, which she mounted with an alert and + impatient step. + </p> + <p> + Rodin issued from the entry. “Here is your basket, my good lady,” + said he, stopping at the threshold of Mother Arsene’s shop. “I + give you my humble thanks for your kindness.” + </p> + <p> + “For nothing, my dear sir, for nothing. It is all at your service. + Well, was the radish good?” + </p> + <p> + “Succulent, my dear madame, and excellent.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! I am glad of it. Shall we soon see you again?” + </p> + <p> + “I hope so. But could you tell me where is the nearest post-office?” + </p> + <p> + “Turn to the left, the third house, at the grocer’s.” + </p> + <p> + “A thousand thanks.” + </p> + <p> + “I wager it’s a love letter for your sweetheart,” said + Mother Arsene, enlivened probably by Rose Pompon’s and Ninny Moulin’s + proximity. + </p> + <p> + “Ha! ha! ha! the good lady!” said Rodin, with a titter. Then, + suddenly resuming his serious aspect, he made a low bow to the + greengrocer, adding: “Your most obedient humble servant!” and + walked out into the street. + </p> + <p> + We now usher the reader into Dr. Baleinier’s asylum, in which Mdlle. + de Cardoville was confined. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0085" id="link2HCH0085"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXXII. THE ADVICE. + </h2> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">A</span>drienne de + Cardoville had been still more strictly confined in Dr. Baleinier’s + house, since the double nocturnal attempt of Agricola and Dagobert, in + which the soldier, though severely wounded, had succeeded, thanks to the + intrepid devotion of his son, seconded by the heroic Spoil sport, in + gaining the little garden gate of the convent, and escaping by way of the + boulevard, along with the young smith. Four o’clock had just struck. + Adrienne, since the previous day, had been removed to a chamber on the + second story of the asylum. The grated window, with closed shutters, only + admitted a faint light to this apartment. The young lady, since her + interview with Mother Bunch, expected to be delivered any day by the + intervention of her friends. But she felt painful uneasiness on the + subject of Agricola and Dagobert, being absolutely ignorant of the issue + of the struggle in which her intended liberators had been engaged with the + people of the asylum and convent. She had in vain questioned her keepers + on the subject; they had remained perfectly mute. These new incidents had + augmented the bitter resentment of Adrienne against the Princess de Saint + Dizier, Father d’Aigrigny, and their creatures. The slight paleness + of Mdlle. de Cardoville’s charming face, and her fine eyes a little + drooping, betrayed her recent sufferings; seated before a little table, + with her forehead resting upon one of her hands, half veiled by the long + curls of her golden hair, she was turning over the leaves of a book. + Suddenly, the door opened, and M. Baleinier entered. The doctor, a Jesuit, + in lay attire, a docile and passive instrument of the will of his Order, + was only half in the confidence of Father d’Aigrigny and the + Princess de Saint-Dizier. He was ignorant of the object of the + imprisonment of Mdlle. de Cardoville; he was ignorant also of the sudden + change which had taken place in the relative position of Father d’Aigrigny + and Rodin, after the reading of the testament of Marius de Rennepont. The + doctor had, only the day before, received orders from Father d’Aigrigny + (now acting under the directions of Rodin) to confine Mdlle. de Cardoville + still more strictly, to act towards her with redoubled severity, and to + endeavor to force her, it will be seen by what expedients, to renounce the + judicial proceedings, which she promised herself to take hereafter against + her persecutors. At sight of the doctor, Mdlle. de Cardoville could not + hide the aversion and disdain with which this man inspired her. M. + Baleinier, on the contrary, always smiling, always courteous, approached + Adrienne with perfect ease and confidence, stopped a few steps from her, + as if to study her features more attentively, and then added like a man + who is satisfied with the observations he had made: “Come! the + unfortunate events of the night before last have had a less injurious + influence than I feared. There is some improvement; the complexion is less + flushed, the look calmer, the eyes still somewhat too bright, but no + longer shining with such unnatural fire. You are getting on so well! Now + the cure must be prolonged—for this unfortunate night affair threw + you into a state of excitement, that was only the more dangerous from your + not being conscious of it. Happily, with care, your recovery will not, I + hope, be very much delayed.” Accustomed though she was to the + audacity of this tool of the Congregation, Mdlle. de Cardoville could not + forbear saying to him, with a smile of bitter disdain: “What + impudence, sir, there is in your probity! What effrontery in your zeal to + earn your hire! Never for a moment do you lay aside your mask; craft and + falsehood are ever on your lips. Really, if this shameful comedy causes + you as much fatigue as it does me disgust and contempt, they can never pay + you enough.” + </p> + <p> + “Alas!” said the doctor, in a sorrowful tone; “always + this unfortunate delusion, that you are not in want of our care!—that + I am playing a part, when I talk to you of the sad state in which you were + when we were obliged to bring you hither by stratagem. Still, with the + exception of this little sign of rebellious insanity, your condition has + marvellously improved. You are on the high-road to a complete cure. + By-and-by, your excellent heart will render me the justice that is due to + me; and, one day, I shall be judged as I deserve.” + </p> + <p> + “I, believe it, sir; the day approaches, in which you will be judged + as you deserve,” said Adrienne, laying great stress upon the two + words. + </p> + <p> + “Always that other fixed idea,” said the doctor with a sort of + commiseration. “Come, be reasonable. Do not think of this + childishness.” + </p> + <p> + “What! renounce my intention to demand at the hands of justice + reparation for myself, and disgrace for you and your accomplices? Never, + sir—never!” + </p> + <p> + “Well!” said the doctor, shrugging his shoulders; “once + at liberty, thank heaven, you will have many other things to think of, my + fair enemy.” + </p> + <p> + “You forget piously the evil that you do; but I, sir, have a better + memory.” + </p> + <p> + “Let us talk seriously. Have you really the intention of applying to + the courts?” inquired Dr. Baleinier, in a grave tone. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir, and you know that what I intend, I firmly carry out.” + </p> + <p> + “Well! I can only conjure you not to follow out this idea,” + replied the doctor, in a still more solemn tone; “I ask it as a + favor, in the name of your own interest.” + </p> + <p> + “I think, sir, that you are a little too ready to confound your + interest with mine.” + </p> + <p> + “Now come,” said Dr. Baleinier, with a feigned impatience, as + if quite certain of convincing Mdlle. de Cardoville on the instant; + “would you have the melancholy courage to plunge into despair two + persons full of goodness and generosity?” + </p> + <p> + “Only two? The jest would be complete, if you were to reckon three: + you, sir, and my aunt, and Abbe d’Aigrigny; for these are no doubt + the generous persons in whose name you implore my pity.” + </p> + <p> + “No, madame; I speak neither of myself, nor of your aunt, nor of + Abbe d’Aigrigny.” + </p> + <p> + “Of whom, then, sir?” asked Mdlle. de Cardoville with + surprise. + </p> + <p> + “Of two poor fellows, who, no doubt sent by those whom you call your + friends, got into the neighboring convent the other night, and thence into + this garden. The guns which you heard go off were fired at them.” + </p> + <p> + “Alas! I thought so. They refused to tell me if either of them was + wounded,” said Adrienne, with painful emotion. + </p> + <p> + “One of them received a wound, but not very serious, since he was + able to fly and escape pursuit.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank God!” cried Mdlle. de Cardoville, clasping her hands + with fervor. + </p> + <p> + “It is quite natural that you should rejoice at their escape, but by + what strange contradiction do you now wish to put the officers of justice + on their track? A singular manner, truly, of rewarding their devotion!” + </p> + <p> + “What do you say, sir?” asked Mdlle. de Cardoville. + </p> + <p> + “For if they should be arrested,” resumed Dr. Baleinier, + without answering her, “as they have been guilty of housebreaking + and attempted burglary, they would be sent to the galleys.” + </p> + <p> + “Heavens! and for my sake!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; it would be for you, and what is worse, by you, that they + would be condemned.” + </p> + <p> + “By me, sir?” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly; that is, if you follow up your vengeance against your + aunt and Abbe d’Aigrigny—I do not speak of myself, for I am + quite safe; in a word, if you persist in laying your complaint before the + magistrates, that you have been unjustly confined in this house.” + </p> + <p> + “I do not understand you, sir. Explain yourself,” said + Adrienne, with growing uneasiness. + </p> + <p> + “Child that you are!” cried the Jesuit of the short robe, with + an air of conviction; “do you think that if the law once takes + cognizance of this affair, you can stop short its action where and when + you please? When you leave this house, you lodge a complaint against me + and against your family; well, what happens? The law interferes, inquires, + calls witnesses, enters into the most minute investigations. Then, what + follows? Why, that this nocturnal escalade, which the superior of the + convent has some interest in hushing up, for fear of scandal—that + this nocturnal attempt, I say, which I also would keep quiet, is + necessarily divulged, and as it involves a serious crime, to which a heavy + penalty is attached, the law will ferret into it, and find out these + unfortunate men, and if, as is probable, they are detained in Paris by + their duties or occupations, or even by a false security, arising from the + honorable motives which they know to have actuated them, they will be + arrested. And who will be the cause of this arrest? You, by your + deposition against us.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, sir! that would be horrible; but it is impossible.” + </p> + <p> + “It is very possible, on the contrary,” returned M. Baleinier: + “so that, while I and the superior of the convent, who alone are + really entitled to complain, only wish to keep quiet this unpleasant + affair, it is you—you, for whom these unfortunate men have risked + the galleys—that will deliver them up to justice.” + </p> + <p> + Though Mdlle. de Cardoville was not completely duped by the lay Jesuit, + she guessed that the merciful intentions which he expressed with regard to + Dagobert and his son, would be absolutely subordinate to the course she + might take in pressing or abandoning the legitimate vengeance which she + meant to claim of authority. Indeed, Rodin, whose instructions the doctor + was following without knowing it, was too cunning to have it said to + Mdlle. de Cardoville: “If you attempt any proceedings, we denounce + Dagobert and his son;” but he attained the same end, by inspiring + Adrienne with fears on the subject of her two liberators, so as to prevent + her taking any hostile measures. Without knowing the exact law on the + subject, Mdlle. de Cardoville had too much good sense not to understand + that Dagobert and Agricola might be very seriously involved in consequence + of their nocturnal adventure, and might even find themselves in a terrible + position. And yet, when she thought of all she had suffered in that house, + and of all the just resentment she entertained in the bottom of her heart, + Adrienne felt unwilling to renounce the stern pleasure of exposing such + odious machinations to the light of day. Dr. Baleinier watched with sullen + attention her whom he considered his dupe, for he thought he could divine + the cause of the silence and hesitation of Mdlle. de Cardoville. + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:65%;"> + <img src="images/20311m.jpg" alt="20311m” width=" /><br /> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/20311.jpg"><i>Original</i></a> + </h5> + <p> + “But, sir,” resumed the latter, unable to conceal her anxiety, + “if I were disposed, for whatever reason, to make no complaint, and + to forget the wrongs I have suffered, when should I leave this place?” + </p> + <p> + “I cannot tell; for I do not know when you will be radically cured,” + said the doctor, benignantly. “You are in a very good way, but—” + </p> + <p> + “Still this insolent and stupid acting!” broke forth Mdlle. de + Cardoville, interrupting the doctor with indignation. “I ask, and if + it must be, I entreat you to tell me how long I am to be shut up in this + dreadful house, for I shall leave it some day, I suppose?” + </p> + <p> + “I hope so, certainly,” said the Jesuit of the short robe, + with unction; “but when, I am unable to say. Moreover, I must tell + you frankly, that every precaution is taken against such attempts as those + of the other night; and the most vigorous watch will be maintained, to + prevent your communicating with any one. And all this in your own + interest, that your poor head may not again be dangerously excited.” + </p> + <p> + “So, sir,” said Adrienne, almost terrified, “compared + with what awaits me, the last few days have been days of liberty.” + </p> + <p> + “Your interest before everything,” answered the doctor, in a + fervent tone. + </p> + <p> + Mdlle. de Cardoville, feeling the impotence of her indignation and + despair, heaved a deep sigh, and hid her face in her hands. + </p> + <p> + At this moment, quick footsteps were heard in the passage, and one of the + nurses entered, after having knocked at the door. + </p> + <p> + “Sir,” said she to the doctor, with a frightened air, “there + are two gentlemen below, who wish to see you instantly, and the lady also.” + </p> + <p> + Adrienne raised her head hastily; her eyes were bathed in tears. + </p> + <p> + “What are the names of these persons?” said M. Baleinier, much + astonished. + </p> + <p> + “One of them said to me,” answered the nurse: “‘Go + and inform Dr. Baleinier that I am a magistrate, and that I come on a duty + regarding Mdlle. de Cardoville.’” + </p> + <p> + “A magistrate!” exclaimed the Jesuit of the short robe, + growing purple in the face, and unable to hide his surprise and + uneasiness. + </p> + <p> + “Heaven be praised!” cried Adrienne, rising with vivacity, her + countenance beaming through her tears with hope and joy; “my friends + have been informed in time, and the hour of justice is arrived!” + </p> + <p> + “Ask these persons to walk up,” said Dr. Baleinier, after a + moment’s reflection. Then, with a still more agitated expression of + countenance, he approached Adrienne with a harsh, and almost menacing air, + which contrasted with the habitual placidity of his hypocritical smile, + and said to her in a low voice: “Take care, madame! do not rejoice + too soon.” + </p> + <p> + “I no longer fear you,” answered Mdlle. de Cardoville, with a + bright, flashing eye. “M. de Montbron is no doubt returned to Paris, + and has been informed in time. He accompanies the magistrate, and comes to + deliver me. I pity you, sir—both you and yours,” added + Adrienne, with an accent of bitter irony. + </p> + <p> + “Madame,” cried M. Baleinier, no longer able to dissemble his + growing alarm, “I repeat to you, take care! Remember what I have + told you. Your accusations would necessarily involve the discovery of what + took place the other night. Beware! the fate of the soldier and his son is + in your hands. Recollect they are in danger of the convict’s chains.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! I am not your dupe, sir. You are holding out a covert menace. + Have at least the courage to say to me, that, if I complain to the + magistrates, you will denounce the soldier and his son.” + </p> + <p> + “I repeat, that, if you make any complaint, those two people are + lost,” answered the doctor, ambiguously. + </p> + <p> + Startled by what was really dangerous in the doctor’s threats, + Adrienne asked: “Sir, if this magistrate questions me, do you think + I will tell him a falsehood?” + </p> + <p> + “You will answer what is true,” said M. Baleinier, hastily, in + the hope of still attaining his end. “You will answer that you were + in so excited a state of mind a few days ago, that it was thought + advisable, for your own sake, to bring you hither, without your knowing + it. But you are now so much better, that you acknowledge the utility of + the measures taken with regard to you. I will confirm these words for, + after all, it is the truth.” + </p> + <p> + “Never!” cried Mdlle. de Cardoville, with indignation, “never + will I be the accomplice of so infamous a falsehood; never will I be base + enough to justify the indignities that I have suffered!” + </p> + <p> + “Here is the magistrate,” said M. Baleinier, as he caught the + sound of approaching footsteps. “Beware!” + </p> + <p> + The door opened, and, to the indescribable amazement of the doctor, Rodin + appeared on the threshold, accompanied by a man dressed in black, with a + dignified and severe countenance. In the interest of his projects, and + from motives of craft and prudence that will hereafter be known, Rodin had + not informed Father d’Aigrigny, and consequently the doctor, of the + unexpected visit he intended to pay to the asylum, accompanied by a + magistrate. On the contrary, he had only the day before given orders to M. + Baleinier to confine Mdlle. de Cardoville still more strictly. Therefore, + imagine the stupor of the doctor when he saw the judicial officer, whose + unexpected presence and imposing aspect were otherwise sufficiently + alarming, enter the room, accompanied by Rodin, Abbe d’Aigrigny’s + humble and obscure secretary. From the door, Rodin, who was very shabbily + dressed, as usual, pointed out Mdlle. de Cardoville to the magistrate, by + a gesture at once respectful and compassionate. Then, while the latter, + who had not been able to repress a movement of admiration at sight of the + rare beauty of Adrienne, seemed to examine her with as much surprise as + interest, the Jesuit modestly receded several steps. + </p> + <p> + Dr. Baleinier in his extreme astonishment, hoping to be understood by + Rodin, made suddenly several private signals, as if to interrogate him on + the cause of the magistrate’s visit. But this was only productive of + fresh amazement to M. Baleinier; for Rodin did not appear to recognize + him, or to understand his expressive pantomime, and looked at him with + affected bewilderment. At length, as the doctor, growing impatient, + redoubled his mute questionings, Rodin advanced with a stride, stretched + forward his crooked neck, and said, in a loud voice: “What is your + pleasure, doctor?” + </p> + <p> + These words, which completely disconcerted Baleinier, broke the silence + which had reigned for some seconds, and the magistrate turned round. Rodin + added, with imperturbable coolness: “Since our arrival, the doctor + has been making all sorts of mysterious signs to me. I suppose he has + something private to communicate, but, as I have no secrets, I must beg + him to speak out loud.” + </p> + <p> + This reply, so embarrassing for M. Baleinier, uttered in a tone of + aggression, and with an air of icy coldness, plunged the doctor into such + new and deep amazement, that he remained for some moments without + answering. No doubt the magistrate was struck with this incident, and with + the silence which followed it, for he cast a look of great severity on the + doctor. Mdlle. de Cardoville, who had expected to have seen M. de + Montbron, was also singularly surprised. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0086" id="link2HCH0086"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXXIII. THE ACCUSER. + </h2> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">B</span>aleinier, + disconcerted for a moment by the unexpected presence of a magistrate, and + by Rodin’s inexplicable attitude, soon recovered his presence of + mind, and addressing his colleague of the longer robe, said to him: + “If I make signs to you, sir, it was that, while I wished to respect + the silence which this gentleman”—glancing at the magistrate—“has + preserved since his entrance, I desired to express my surprise at the + unexpected honor of this visit.” + </p> + <p> + “It is to the lady that I will explain the reason for my silence, + and beg her to excuse it,” replied the magistrate, as he made a + half-bow to Adrienne, whom he thus continued to address: “I have + just received so serious a declaration with regard to you, madame, that I + could not forbear looking at you for a moment in silence, to see if I + could read in your countenance or in your attitude, the truth or falsehood + of the accusation that has been placed in my hands; and I have every + reason to believe that it is but too well founded.” + </p> + <p> + “May I at length be informed, sir,” said Dr. Baleinier, in a + polite but firm tone, “to whom I have the honor of speaking?” + </p> + <p> + “Sir, I am juge d’instruction, and I have come to inform + myself as to a fact which has been pointed out to me—” + </p> + <p> + “Will you do me the honor to explain yourself, sir?” said the + doctor, bowing. + </p> + <p> + “Sir,” resumed the magistrate, M. de Gernande, a man of about + fifty years of age, full of firmness and straightforwardness, and knowing + how to unite the austere duties of his position with benevolent + politeness, “you are accused of having committed—a very great + error, not to use a harsher expression. As for the nature of that error, I + prefer believing, sir, that you (a first rate man of science) may have + been deceived in the calculation of a medical case, rather than suspect + you of having forgotten all that is sacred in the exercise of a profession + that is almost a priesthood.” + </p> + <p> + “When you specify the facts, sir,” answered the Jesuit of the + short robe, with a degree of haughtiness, “it will be easy for me to + prove that my reputation as a man of science is no less free from + reproach, than my conscience as a man of honor.” + </p> + <p> + “Madame,” said M. de Gernande, addressing Adrienne, “is + it true that you were conveyed to this house by stratagem?” + </p> + <p> + “Sir,” cried M. Baleinier, “permit me to observe, that + the manner in which you open this question is an insult to me.” + </p> + <p> + “Sir, it is to the lady that I have the honor of addressing myself,” + replied M. de Gernande, sternly; “and I am the sole judge of the + propriety of my questions.” + </p> + <p> + Adrienne was about to answer affirmatively to the magistrate, when an + expressive took from Dr. Baleinier reminded her that she would perhaps + expose Dagobert and his son to cruel dangers. It was no base and vulgar + feeling of vengeance by which Adrienne was animated, but a legitimate + indignation, inspired by odious hypocrisy. She would have thought it + cowardly not to unmask the criminals; but wishing to avoid compromising + others, she said to the magistrate, with an accent full of mildness and + dignity: “Permit me, sir, in my turn, rather to ask you a question.” + </p> + <p> + “Speak, madame.” + </p> + <p> + “Will the answer I make be considered a formal accusation?” + </p> + <p> + “I have come hither, madame, to ascertain the truth, and no + consideration should induce you to dissemble it.” + </p> + <p> + “So be it, sir,” resumed Adrienne; “but suppose, having + just causes of complaint, I lay them before you, in order to be allowed to + leave this house, shall I afterwards be at liberty not to press the + accusations I have made?” + </p> + <p> + “You may abandon proceedings, madame, but the law will take up your + case in the name of society, if its rights have been inured in your + person.” + </p> + <p> + “Shall I then not be allowed to pardon? Should I not be sufficiently + avenged by a contemptuous forgetfulness of the wrongs I have suffered?” + </p> + <p> + “Personally, madame, you may forgive and forget; but I have the + honor to repeat to you, that society cannot show the same indulgence, if + it should turn out that you have been the victim of a criminal machination—and + I have every reason to fear it is so. The manner in which you express + yourself, the generosity of your sentiments, the calmness and dignity of + your attitude, convince me that I have been well informed.” + </p> + <p> + “I hope, sir,” said Dr. Baleinier, recovering his coolness, + “that you will at least communicate the declaration that has been + made to you.” + </p> + <p> + “It has been declared to me, sir,” said the magistrate, in a + stern voice, “that Mdlle. de Cardoville was brought here by + stratagem.” + </p> + <p> + “By stratagem?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “It is true. The lady was brought here by stratagem,” answered + the Jesuit of the short robe, after a moment’s silence. + </p> + <p> + “You confess it, then?” said M. de Gernande. + </p> + <p> + “Certainly I do, sir. I admit that I had recourse to means which we + are unfortunately too often obliged to employ, when persons who most need + our assistance are unconscious of their own sad state.” + </p> + <p> + “But, sir,” replied the magistrate, “it has also been + declared to me, that Mdlle. de Cardoville never required such aid.” + </p> + <p> + “That, sir, is a question of medical jurisprudence, which has to be + examined and discussed,” said M. Baleinier, recovering his + assurance. + </p> + <p> + “It will, indeed, sir, be seriously discussed; for you are accused + of confining Mdlle. De Cardoville, while in the full possession of all her + faculties.” + </p> + <p> + “And may I ask you for what purpose?” said M. de Baleinier, + with a slight shrug of the shoulders, and in a tone of irony. “What + interest had I to commit such a crime, even admitting that my reputation + did not place me above so odious and absurd a charge?” + </p> + <p> + “You are said to have acted, sir, in furtherance of a family plot, + devised against Mdlle. de Cardoville for a pecuniary motive.” + </p> + <p> + “And who has dared, sir, to make so calumnious a charge?” + cried Dr. Baleinier, with indignant warmth. “Who has had the + audacity to accuse a respectable, and I dare to say, respected man, of + having been the accomplice in such infamy?” + </p> + <p> + “I,” said Rodin, coldly. + </p> + <p> + “You!” cried Dr. Baleinier, falling back two steps, as if + thunderstruck. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I accuse you,” repeated Rodin, in a clear sharp voice. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, it was this gentleman who came to me this morning, with ample + proofs, to demand my interference in favor of Mdlle. de Cardoville,” + said the magistrate, drawing back a little, to give Adrienne the + opportunity of seeing her defender. + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:65%;"> + <img src="images/20343m.jpg" alt="20343m” width=" /><br /> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/20343.jpg"><i>Original</i></a> + </h5> + <p> + Throughout this scene, Rodin’s name had not hitherto been mentioned. + Mdlle. de Cardoville had often heard speak of the Abbe d’Aigrigny’s + secretary in no very favorable terms; but, never having seen him, she did + not know that her liberator was this very Jesuit. She therefore looked + towards him, with a glance in which were mingled curiosity, interest, + surprise and gratitude. Rodin’s cadaverous countenance, his + repulsive ugliness, his sordid dress, would a few days before have + occasioned Adrienne a perhaps invincible feeling of disgust. But the young + lady, remembering how the sempstress, poor, feeble, deformed, and dressed + almost in rags was endowed notwithstanding her wretched exterior, with one + of the noblest and most admirable hearts, recalled this recollection in + favor of the Jesuit. She forgot that he was ugly and sordid, only to + remember that he was old, that he seemed poor, and that he had come to her + assistance. Dr. Baleinier, notwithstanding his craft, notwithstanding his + audacious hypocrisy, in spite even of his presence of mind, could not + conceal how much he was disturbed by Rodin’s denunciation. His head + became troubled as he remembered how, on the first day of Adrienne’s + confinement in this house, the implacable appeal of Rodin, through the + hole in the door, had prevented him (Baleinier) from yielding to emotions + of pity, inspired by the despair of this unfortunate young girl, driven + almost to doubt of her own reason. And yet it was this very Rodin, so + cruel, so inexorable, the devoted agent of Father d’Aigrigny, who + denounced him (Baleinier), and brought a magistrate to set Adrienne at + liberty—when, only the day before, Father d’Aigrigny had + ordered an increase of severity towards her! + </p> + <p> + The lay Jesuit felt persuaded that Rodin was betraying Father d’Aigrigny + in the most shameful manner, and that Mdlle. de Cardoville’s friends + had bribed and bought over this scoundrelly secretary. Exasperated by what + he considered a monstrous piece of treachery, the doctor exclaimed, in a + voice broken with rage: “And it is you, sir, that have the impudence + to accuse me—you, who only a few days ago—” + </p> + <p> + Then, reflecting that the retort upon Rodin would be self-accusation, he + appeared to give way to an excess of emotion, and resumed with bitterness: + “Ah, sir, you are the last person that I should have thought capable + of this odious denunciation. It is shameful!” + </p> + <p> + “And who had a better right than I to denounce this infamy?” + answered Rodin, in a rude, overbearing tone. “Was I not in a + position to learn—unfortunately, too late—the nature of the + conspiracy of which Mdlle. de Cardoville and others have been the victims? + Then, what was my duty as an honest man? Why, to inform the magistrate, to + prove what I set forth, and to accompany him hither. That is what I have + done.” + </p> + <p> + “So, sir,” said the doctor, addressing the magistrate, “it + is not only myself that this man accuses, but he dares also—” + </p> + <p> + “I accuse the Abbe d’Aigrigny,” resumed Rodin, in a + still louder and more imperative tone, interrupting the doctor, “I + accuse the Princess de Saint-Dizier, I accuse you, sir—of having, + from a vile motive of self interest, confined Mdlle. de Cardoville in this + house, and the two daughters of Marshal Simon in the neighboring convent. + Is that clear?” + </p> + <p> + “Alas! it is only too true,” said Adrienne, hastily. “I + have seen those poor children all in tears, making signs of distress to + me.” + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:65%;"> + <img src="images/20319m.jpg" alt="20319m” width=" /><br /> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/20319.jpg"><i>Original</i></a> + </h5> + <p> + The accusation of Rodin, with regard to the orphans, was a new and fearful + blow for Dr. Baleinier. He felt perfectly convinced that the traitor had + passed clear over to the enemy’s camp. Wishing therefore to put an + end to this embarrassing scene, he tried to put a good face on the matter, + in spite of his emotion, and said to the magistrate: + </p> + <p> + “I might confine myself, sir, to silence—disdaining to answer + such accusations, till a judicial decision had given them some kind of + authority. But, strong in a good conscience I address myself to Mdlle. de + Cardoville, and I beg her to say if this very morning I did not inform + her, that her health would soon be sufficiently restored to allow her to + leave this house. I conjure her, in the name of her well-known love of + truth to state if such was not my language, when I was alone with her—” + </p> + <p> + “Come, sir!” said Rodin, interrupting Baleinier with an + insolent air; “suppose that, from pure generosity, this dear young + lady were to admit as much—what will it prove in your favor?—why, + nothing at all.” + </p> + <p> + “What, sir,” cried the doctor, “do you presume—” + </p> + <p> + “I presume to unmask you, without asking your leave. What have you + just told us? Why, that being alone with Mdlle. de Cardoville, you talked + to her as if she were really mad. How very conclusive!” + </p> + <p> + “But, sir—” cried the doctor. + </p> + <p> + “But, sir,” resumed Rodin, without allowing him to continue, + “it is evident that, foreseeing the possibility of what has occurred + to-day, and, to provide yourself with a hole to creep out at, you have + pretended to believe your own execrable falsehood, in presence of this + poor young lady, that you might afterwards call in aid the evidence of + your own assumed conviction. Come, sir! such stories will not go down with + people of common sense or common humanity.” + </p> + <p> + “Come now, sir!” exclaimed Baleinier, angrily. + </p> + <p> + “Well, sir,” resumed Rodin, in a still louder voice, which + completely drowned that of the doctor; “is it true, or is it not, + that you have recourse to the mean evasion of ascribing this odious + imprisonment to a scientific error? I affirm that you do so, and that you + think yourself safe, because you can now say: ‘Thanks to my care, + the young lady has recovered her reason. What more would you have?’” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I do say that, sir, and I maintain it.” + </p> + <p> + “You maintain a falsehood; for it is proven that the lady never lost + her reason for a moment.” + </p> + <p> + “But I, sir, maintain that she did lose it.” + </p> + <p> + “And I, sir, will prove the contrary,” said Rodin. + </p> + <p> + “You? How will you do that?” cried the doctor. + </p> + <p> + “That I shall take care not to tell you at present, as you may well + suppose,” answered Rodin, with an ironical smile, adding with + indignation: “But, really, sir, you ought to die for shame, to dare + to raise such a question in presence of the lady. You should at least have + spared her this discussion.” + </p> + <p> + “Sir!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, fie, sir! I say, fie! It is odious to maintain this argument + before her—odious if you speak truth, doubly odious if you lie,” + said Rodin, with disgust. + </p> + <p> + “This violence is inconceivable!” cried the Jesuit of the + short robe, exasperated; “and I think the magistrate shows great + partiality in allowing such gross calumnies to be heaped upon me!” + </p> + <p> + “Sir,” answered M. de Gernande, severely, “I am entitled + not only to hear, but to provoke any contradictory discussion that may + enlighten me in the execution of my duty; it results from all this, that, + even in your opinion, sir, Mdlle. de Cardoville’s health is + sufficiently good to allow her to return home immediately.” + </p> + <p> + “At least, I do not see any very serious inconvenience likely to + arise from it, sir,” said the doctor: “only I maintain that + the cure is not so complete as it might have been, and, on this subject, I + decline all responsibility for the future.” + </p> + <p> + “You can do so, safely,” said Rodin; “it is not likely + that the young lady will ever again have recourse to your honest + assistance.” + </p> + <p> + “It is useless, therefore, to employ my official authority, to + demand the immediate liberation of Mdlle. de Cardoville,” said the + magistrate. + </p> + <p> + “She is free,” said Baleinier, “perfectly free.” + </p> + <p> + “As for the question whether you have imprisoned her on the plea of + a suppositious madness, the law will inquire into it, sir, and you will be + heard.” + </p> + <p> + “I am quite easy, sir,” answered M. Baleinier, trying to look + so; “my conscience reproaches me with nothing.” + </p> + <p> + “I hope it may turn out well, sir,” said M. de Gernande. + “However bad appearances may be, more especially when persons of + your station in society are concerned, we should always wish to be + convinced of their innocence.” Then, turning to Adrienne, he added: + “I understand, madame, how painful this scene must be to all your + feelings of delicacy and generosity; hereafter, it will depend upon + yourself, either to proceed for damages against M. Baleinier, or to let + the law take its course. One word more. The bold and upright man”—here + the magistrate pointed to Rodin—“who has taken up your cause + in so frank and disinterested a manner, expressed a belief that you would, + perhaps, take charge for the present of Marshal Simon’s daughters, + whose liberation I am about to demand from the convent where they also are + confined by stratagem.” + </p> + <p> + “The fact is, sir,” replied Adrienne, “that, as soon as + I learned the arrival of Marshal Simon’s daughters in Paris, my + intention was to offer them apartments in my house. These young ladies are + my near relations. It is at once a duty and a pleasure for me to treat + them as sisters. I shall, therefore, be doubly grateful to you, sir, if + you will trust them to my care.” + </p> + <p> + “I think that I cannot serve them better,” answered M. de + Gernande. Then, addressing Baleinier, he added, “Will you consent, + sir, to my bringing these two ladies hither? I will go and fetch them, + while Mdlle. de Cardoville prepares for her departure. They will then be + able to leave this house with their relation.” + </p> + <p> + “I entreat the lady to make use of this house as her own, until she + leaves it,” replied M. Baleinier. “My carriage shall be at her + orders to take her home.” + </p> + <p> + “Madame,” said the magistrate, approaching Adrienne, “without + prejudging the question, which must soon be decided by, a court of law, I + may at least regret that I was not called in sooner. Your situation must + have been a very cruel one.” + </p> + <p> + “There will at least remain to me, sir, from this mournful time,” + said Adrienne, with graceful dignity, “one precious and touching + remembrance—that of the interest which you have shown me. I hope + that you will one day permit me to thank you, at my own home, not for the + justice you have done me, but for the benevolent and paternal manner in + which you have done it. And moreover, sir,” added Mdlle. de + Cardoville, with a sweet smile, “I should like to prove to you, that + what they call my cure is complete.” + </p> + <p> + M. de Gernande bowed respectfully in reply. During the abort dialogue of + the magistrate with Adrienne, their backs were both turned to Baleinier + and Rodin. The latter, profiting by this moment’s opportunity, + hastily slipped into the doctor’s hand a note just written with a + pencil in the bottom of his hat. Baleinier looked at Rodin in stupefied + amazement. But the latter made a peculiar sign, by raising his thumb to + his forehead, and drawing it twice across his brow. Then he remained + impassible. This had passed so rapidly, that when M. de Gernande turned + round, Rodin was at a distance of several steps from Dr. Baleinier, and + looking at Mdlle. de Cardoville with respectful interest. + </p> + <p> + “Permit me to accompany you, sir,” said the doctor, preceding + the magistrate, whom Mdlle. de Cardoville saluted with much affability. + Then both went out, and Rodin remained alone with the young lady. + </p> + <p> + After conducting M. de Gernande to the outer door of the house, M. + Baleinier made haste to read the pencil-note written by Rodin; it ran as + follows: “The magistrate is going to the convent, by way of the + street. Run round by the garden, and tell the Superior to obey the order I + have given with regard to the two young girls. It is of the utmost + importance.” + </p> + <p> + The peculiar sign which Rodin had made, and the tenor of this note, proved + to Dr. Baleinier, who was passing from surprise to amazement, that the + secretary, far from betraying the reverend father, was still acting for + the Greater Glory of the Lord. However, whilst he obeyed the orders, M. + Baleinier sought in vain to penetrate the motives of Rodin’s + inexplicable conduct, who had himself informed the authorities of an + affair that was to have been hushed up, and that might have the most + disastrous consequences for Father d’Aigrigny, Madame de + Saint-Dizier, and Baleinier himself. But let us return to Rodin, left + alone with Mdlle, de Cardoville. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0087" id="link2HCH0087"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXXIV. FATHER D’AIGRIGNY’S SECRETARY. + </h2> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">H</span>ardly had the + magistrate and Dr. Baleinier disappeared, than Mdlle. de Cardoville, whose + countenance was beaming with joy, exclaimed, as she looked at Rodin with a + mixture of respect and gratitude, “At length, thanks to you, sir, I + am free—free! Oh, I had never before felt how much happiness, + expansion, delight, there is in that adorable word—liberty!” + </p> + <p> + Her bosom rose and fell, her rosy nostrils dilated, her vermilion lips + were half open, as if she again inhaled with rapture pure and vivifying + air. + </p> + <p> + “I have been only a few days in this horrible place,” she + resumed, “but I have suffered enough from my captivity to make me + resolve never to let a year pass without restoring to liberty some poor + prisoners for debt. This vow no doubt appears to belong a little to the + Middle Ages,” added she, with a smile; “but I would fain + borrow from that noble epoch something more than its old windows and + furniture. So, doubly thanks, sir!—for I take you as a partner in + that project of deliverance, which has just (you see) unfolded itself in + the midst of the happiness I owe to you, and by which you seem so much + affected. Oh! let my joy speak my gratitude, and pay you for your generous + aid!” exclaimed the young girl with enthusiasm. + </p> + <p> + Mdlle. de Cardoville had truly remarked a complete transfiguration in the + countenance of Rodin. This man, lately so harsh, severe, inflexible, with + regard to Dr. Baleinier, appeared now under the influence of the mildest + and most tender sentiments. His little, half-veiled eyes were fixed upon + Adrienne with an expression of ineffable interest. Then, as if he wished + to tear himself from these impressions, he said, speaking to himself, + “Come, come, no weakness. Time is too precious; my mission is not + fulfilled. My dear young lady,” added he, addressing himself to + Adrienne, “believe what I say—we will talk hereafter of + gratitude—but we have now to talk of the present so important for + you and your family. Do you know what is taking place?” + </p> + <p> + Adrienne looked at the Jesuit with surprise, and said, “What is + taking place, sir?” + </p> + <p> + “Do you know the real motive of your imprisonment in this house? Do + you know what influenced the Princess de Saint-Dizier and Abbe d’Aigrigny?” + </p> + <p> + At the sound of those detested names, Mdlle. de Cardoville’s face, + now so full of happiness, became suddenly sad, and she answered with + bitterness, “It is hatred, sir, that no doubt animated Madame de + Saint-Dizier against me.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, hatred; and, moreover, the desire to rob you with impunity of + an immense fortune.” + </p> + <p> + “Me, sir! how?” + </p> + <p> + “You must be ignorant, my dear young lady, of the interest you had + to be in the Rue Saint-Francois on the 13th February, for an inheritance?” + </p> + <p> + “I was ignorant, sir, of the date and details: but I knew by some + family papers, and thanks to an extraordinary circumstance, that one of + our ancestors—” + </p> + <p> + “Had left an enormous sum to be divided between his descendants; is + it not so?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “But what unfortunately you did not know, my dear young lady, was + that the heirs were all bound to be present at a certain hour on the 13th + February. This day and hour once past, the absent would forfeit their + claim. Do you now understand why you have been imprisoned here, my dear + young lady?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes; I understand it,” cried Mdlle. de Cardoville; + “cupidity was added to the hatred which my aunt felt for me. All is + explained. Marshal Simon’s daughters, having the same right as I had + have, like me, been imprisoned.” + </p> + <p> + “And yet,” cried Rodin, “you and they were not the only + victims.” + </p> + <p> + “Who, then, are the others, sir?” + </p> + <p> + “A young East Indian.” + </p> + <p> + “Prince Djalma?” said Adrienne, hastily. + </p> + <p> + “For the same reason he has been nearly poisoned with a narcotic.” + </p> + <p> + “Great God!” cried the young girl, clasping her hands in + horror. “It is fearful. That young prince, who was said to have so + noble and generous a character! But I had sent to Cardoville Castle—” + </p> + <p> + “A confidential person, to fetch the prince to Paris—I know + it, my dear young lady; but, by means of a trick, your friend was got out + of the way, and the young Oriental delivered to his enemies.” + </p> + <p> + “And where is he now?” + </p> + <p> + “I have only vague information on the subject. I know that he is in + Paris, and do not despair of finding him. I shall pursue my researches + with an almost paternal ardor, for we cannot too much love the rare + qualities of that poor king’s son. What a heart, my dear young lady! + what a heart! Oh, it is a heart of gold, pure and bright as the gold of + his country!” + </p> + <p> + “We must find the prince, sir,” said Adrienne with emotion; + “let me entreat you to neglect nothing for that end. He is my + relation—alone here—without support—without assistance.” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly,” replied Rodin, with commiseration. “Poor + boy!—for he is almost a boy—eighteen or nineteen years of age—thrown + into the heart of Paris, of this hell—with his fresh, ardent, + half-savage passions—with his simplicity and confidence—to + what perils may he not be exposed?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, we must first find him, sir,” said Adrienne, hastily; + “and then we will save him from these dangers. Before I was confined + here, I learned his arrival in France, and sent a confidential person to + offer him the services of an unknown friend. I now see that this mad idea, + with which I have been so much reproached, was a very sensible one. I am + more convinced of it than ever. The prince belongs to my family, and I owe + him a generous hospitality. I had destined for him the lodge I occupied at + my aunt’s.” + </p> + <p> + “And you, my dear young lady?” + </p> + <p> + “To-day, I shall remove to a house, which I had prepared some time + ago, with the determination of quitting Madame de Saint-Dizier, and living + alone as I pleased. Then, sir, as you seem bent upon being the good genius + of our family, be as generous with regard to Prince Djalma, as you have + been to me and Marshal Simon’s daughters. I entreat you to discover + the hiding-place of this poor king’s son, as you call him; keep my + secret for me, and conduct him to the house offered by the unknown friend. + Let him not disquiet himself about anything; all his wants shall be + provided for; he shall live—like a prince.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; he will indeed live like a prince, thanks to your royal + munificence. But never was such kind interest better deserved. It is + enough to see (as I have seen) his fine, melancholy countenance—” + </p> + <p> + “You have seen him, then, sir?” said Adrienne, interrupting + Rodin. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, my dear young lady; I was with him for about two hours. It was + quite enough to judge of him. His charming features are the mirror of his + soul.” + </p> + <p> + “And where did you see him, sir?” + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:65%;"> + <img src="images/20327m.jpg" alt="20327m” width=" /><br /> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/20327.jpg"><i>Original</i></a> + </h5> + <p> + “At your old Chateau de Cardoville, my dear young lady, near which + he had been shipwrecked in a storm, and whither I had gone to—” + Rodin hesitated for a moment, and then, as if yielding to the frankness of + his disposition, added: “Whither I had gone to commit a bad action—a + shameful, miserable action, I must confess!” + </p> + <p> + “You, sir?—at Cardoville House—to commit a bad action?” + cried Adrienne, much surprised. + </p> + <p> + “Alas! yes, my dear young lady,” answered Rodin with + simplicity. “In one word, I had orders from Abbe d’Aigrigny, + to place your former bailiff in the alternative either of losing his + situation or lending himself to a mean action—something, in fact, + that resembled spying and calumny; but the honest, worthy man refused.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, who are you, sir?” said Mdlle. de Cardoville, more and + more astonished. + </p> + <p> + “I am Rodin, lately secretary of the Abbe d’Aigrigny—a + person of very little importance, as you see.” + </p> + <p> + It is impossible to describe the accent, at once humble and ingenuous, of + the Jesuit, as he pronounced these words, which he accompanied with a + respectful bow. On this revelation, Mdlle. de Cardoville drew back + abruptly. We have said that Adrienne had sometimes heard talk of Rodin, + the humble secretary of the Abbe d’Aigrigny, as a sort of obedient + and passive machine. That was not all; the bailiff of Cardoville Manor, + writing to Adrienne on the subject of Prince Djalma, had complained of the + perfidious and dishonest propositions of Rodin. She felt, therefore, a + vague suspicion, when she heard that her liberator was the man who had + played so odious a part. Yet this unfavorable feeling was balanced by the + sense of what she owed to Rodin, and by his frank denunciation of Abbe d’Aigrigny + before the magistrate. And then the Jesuit, by his own confession, had + anticipated, as it were, the reproaches that might have been addressed to + him. Still, it was with a kind of cold reserve that Mdlle. de Cardoville + resumed this dialogue, which she had commenced with as much frankness as + warmth and sympathy. + </p> + <p> + Rodin perceived the impression he had made. He expected it. He was not the + least disconcerted when Mdlle. de Cardoville said to him, as she fixed + upon him a piercing glance, “Ah! you are M. Rodin—secretary to + the Abbe d’Aigrigny?” + </p> + <p> + “Say ex-secretary, if you please, my dear young lady,” + answered the Jesuit; “for you see clearly that I can never again + enter the house of the Abbe d’Aigrigny. I have made of him an + implacable enemy, and I am now without employment—but no matter—nay, + so much the better—since, at this price, the wicked are unmasked, + and honest people rescued.” + </p> + <p> + These words, spoken with much simplicity, and dignity, revived a feeling + of pity in Adrienne’s heart. She thought within herself that, after + all, the poor old man spoke the truth. Abbe d’Aigrigny’s hate, + after this exposure, would be inexorable, and Rodin had braved it for the + sake of a generous action. + </p> + <p> + Still Mdlle. de Cardoville answered coldly, “Since you knew, sir, + that the propositions you were charged to make to the bailiff of + Cardoville were shameful and perfidious, how could you undertake the + mission?” + </p> + <p> + “How?” replied Rodin, with a sort of painful impatience; + “why, because I was completely under Abbe d’Aigrigny’s + charm, one of the most prodigiously clever men I have ever known, and, as + I only discovered the day before yesterday, one of the most prodigiously + dangerous men there is in the world. He had conquered my scruples, by + persuading me that the End justifies the Means. I must confess that the + end he seemed to propose to himself was great and beautiful; but the day + before yesterday I was cruelly undeceived. I was awakened, as it were, by + a thunder-peal. Oh, my dear young lady!” added Rodin, with a sort of + embarrassment and confusion, “let us talk no more of my fatal + journey to Cardoville. Though I was only an ignorant and blind instrument, + I feel as ashamed and grieved at it as if I had acted for myself. It + weighs upon me, it oppresses me. I entreat you, let us speak rather of + yourself, and of what interests you—for the soul expands with + generous thoughts, even as the breast is dilated in pure and healthful + air.” + </p> + <p> + Rodin had confessed his fault so spontaneously, he explained it so + naturally, he appeared to regret it so sincerely, that Adrienne, whose + suspicions had no other grounds, felt her distrust a good deal diminished. + </p> + <p> + “So,” she resumed, still looking attentively at Rodin, “it + was at Cardoville that you saw Prince Djalma?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, madame; and my affection for him dates from that interview. + Therefore I will accomplish my task. Be satisfied, my dear young lady; + like you, like Marshal Simon’s daughters, the prince shall avoid + being the victim of this detestable plot, which unhappily does not stop + there.” + </p> + <p> + “And who besides, then, is threatened?” + </p> + <p> + “M. Hardy, a man full of honor and probity, who is also your + relation, and interested in this inheritance, but kept away from Paris by + infamous treachery. And another heir, an unfortunate artisan, who falling + into a trap cleverly baited, has been thrown into a prison for debt.” + </p> + <p> + “But, sir,” said Adrienne, suddenly, “for whose + advantage was this abominable plot, which really alarms me, first devised?” + </p> + <p> + “For the advantage of Abbe d’Aigrigny,” answered Rodin. + </p> + <p> + “How, and by what right! Was he also an heir?” + </p> + <p> + “It would take too long to explain it to you, my dear young lady. + You will know all one day. Only be convinced that your family has no more + bitter enemy that Abbe d’Aigrigny.” + </p> + <p> + “Sir,” said Adrienne, giving way to one last suspicion, + “I will speak frankly to you. How can I have deserved the interest + that you seem to take in me, and that you even extend to all the members + of my family?” + </p> + <p> + “My dear young lady,” answered Rodin, with a smile, “were + I to tell you the cause, you would only laugh at, or misapprehend me.” + </p> + <p> + “Speak, I beg of you, sir. Do not mistrust me or yourself.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, then, I became interested in you—devoted to you—because + your heart is generous, your mind lofty, your character independent and + proud. Once attached to you, those of your race, who are indeed themselves + worthy of interest, were no longer indifferent to me. To serve them was to + serve you also.” + </p> + <p> + “But, sir—admitting that you suppose me worthy of the too + flattering praises you bestow upon me—how could you judge of my + heart, my mind, my character?” + </p> + <p> + “I will tell you, my dear young lady; but first I must make another + confession, that fills me with shame. If you were not even so wonderfully + endowed, what you have suffered in this house should suffice to command + the interest of every honest man—don’t you think so?” + </p> + <p> + “I do think it should, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “I might thus explain the interest I feel in you. But no—I + confess it—that would not have sufficed with me. Had you been only + Mdlle. de Cardoville—a rich, noble, beautiful young lady—I + should doubtless have pitied your misfortune; but I should have said to + myself, ‘This poor young lady is certainly much to be pitied; but + what can I, poor man, do in it? My only resource is my post of secretary + to the Abbe d’Aigrigny, and he would be the first that must be + attacked. He is all-powerful, and I am nothing. To engage in a struggle + with him would be to ruin myself, without the hope of saving this + unfortunate person.’ But when I learnt what you were, my dear young + lady, I revolted, in spite of my inferiority. ‘No,’ I said, + ‘a thousand times, no! So fine an intellect, so great a heart, shall + not be the victims of an abominable plot. I may perish in the struggle, + but I will at least make the attempt.’” + </p> + <p> + No words can paint the mixture of delicacy, energy, and sensibility with + which Rodin uttered these sentiments. As it often happens with people + singularly repulsive and ill-favored, if they can once bring you to forget + their ugliness, their very deformity becomes a source of interest and + commiseration, and you say to yourself, “What a pity that such a + mind, such a soul, should inhabit so poor a body!”—and you are + touched and softened by the contrast. + </p> + <p> + It was thus that Mdlle. de Cardoville began to look upon Rodin. He had + shown himself as simple and affectionate towards her as he had been brutal + and insolent to Dr. Baleinier. One thing only excited the lively curiosity + of Mdlle. de Cardoville—she wished to know how Rodin had conceived + the devotion and admiration which she seemed to inspire. + </p> + <p> + “Forgive my indiscreet and obstinate curiosity, sir, but I wish to + know—” + </p> + <p> + “How you were morally revealed to me—is it not so? Oh, my dear + young lady! nothing is more simple. I will explain it to you in two words. + The Abbe d’Aigrigny saw in me nothing but a writing-machine, an + obtuse, mute, blind instrument—” + </p> + <p> + “I thought M. d’Aigrigny had more penetration.” + </p> + <p> + “And you are right, my dear young lady; he is a man of unparalleled + sagacity; but I deceived him by affecting more than simplicity. Do not, + therefore, think me false. No; I am proud in my manner—and my pride + consists in never appearing above my position, however subaltern it may + be! Do you know why? It is that, however haughty may be my superiors, I + can say to myself, ‘They do not know my value. It is the inferiority + of my condition, not me, that they humiliate.’ By this I gain doubly—my + self-love is spared, and I hate no one.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I understand that sort of pride,” said Adrienne, more + and more struck with Rodin’s original turn of mind. + </p> + <p> + “But let us return to what concerns you, my dear young lady. On the + eve of the 13th of February, the Abbe d’Aigrigny delivered to me a + paper in shorthand, and said to me, ‘Transcribe this examination; + you may add that it is to support the decision of a family council, which + has declared, in accordance with the report of Dr. Baleinier, the state of + mind of Mdlle. de Cardoville to be sufficiently alarming to render it + necessary to confine her in a lunatic asylum.’” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Adrienne, with bitterness; “it related to a + long interview, which I had with the Princess de Saint-Dizier, my aunt, + and which was taken down without my knowledge.” + </p> + <p> + “Behold me, then, poring over my shorthand report, and beginning to + transcribe it. At the end of the first ten lines, I was struck with + stupor. I knew not if I were awake or dreaming. ‘What! mad?’ + They must be themselves insane who dare assert so monstrous a proposition!—More + and more interested, I continued my reading—I finished it—Oh! + then, what shall I say? What I felt, my dear young lady, it is impossible + to express. It was sympathy, delight, enthusiasm!” + </p> + <p> + “Sir,” said Adrienne. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, my dear young lady, enthusiasm! Let not the words shock your + modesty. Know that these ideas, so new, so independent, so courageous + which you expressed to your aunt with so much brilliancy, are, without + your being aware of it, common to you and another person, for whom you + will one day feel the most tender and religious respect.” + </p> + <p> + “Of whom do you speak, sir?” cried Mdlle. de Cardoville, more + and more interested. + </p> + <p> + After a moment’s apparent hesitation, Rodin resumed, “No, no—it + is useless now to inform you of it. All I can tell you, my dear young + lady, is that, when I had finished my reading, I ran to Abbe d’Aigrigny’s, + to convince him of the error into which he had fallen with regard to you. + It was impossible then to find him; but yesterday morning I told him + plainly what I thought. He only appeared surprised to find that I could + think at all. He received my communications with contemptuous silence. I + thought him deceived; I continued my remonstrances, but quite in vain. He + ordered me to follow him to the house, where the testament of your + ancestor was to be opened. I was so blind with regard to the Abbe d’Aigrigny, + that it required the successive arrivals of the soldier, of his son, and + of Marshal Simon’s father, to open my eyes thoroughly. Their + indignation unveiled to me the extent of a conspiracy, plotted long ago, + and carried on with terrible ability. Then, I understood why you were + confined here as a lunatic; why the daughters of Marshal Simon were + imprisoned in a convent. Then a thousand recollections returned to my + mind; fragments of letters and statements, which had been given me to copy + or decipher, and of which I had never been able to find the explanation, + put me on the track of this odious machination. To express then and there + the sudden horror I felt at these crimes, would have been to ruin all. I + did not make this mistake. I opposed cunning to cunning; I appeared even + more eager than Abbe d’Aigrigny. Had this immense inheritance been + destined for me alone, I could not have shown myself more grasping and + merciless. Thanks to this stratagem, Abbe d’Aigrigny had no + suspicion. A providential accident having rescued the inheritance from his + hands, he left the house in a state of profound consternation. For my + part, I felt indescribable joy; for I had now the means of saving and + avenging you, my dear young lady. As usual, I went yesterday evening to my + place of business. During the absence of the abbe, it was easy for me to + peruse the correspondence relative to the inheritance. In this way I was + able to unite all the threads of this immense plot. Oh! then, my dear + young lady, I remained, struck with horror, in presence of the discoveries + that I made, and that I never should have made under any other + circumstances.” + </p> + <p> + “What discoveries, sir?” + </p> + <p> + “There are some secrets which are terrible to those who possess + them. Do not ask me to explain, my dear young lady; but, in this + examination, the league formed against you and your relations, from + motives of insatiable cupidity, appeared to me in all its dark audacity. + Thereupon, the lively and deep interest which I already felt for you, my + dear young lady, was augmented greatly, and extended itself to the other + innocent victims of this infernal conspiracy. In spite of my weakness, I + determined to risk all, to unmask the Abbe d’Aigrigny. I collected + the necessary proofs, to give my declaration before the magistrate the + needful authority; and, this morning, I left the abbe’s house + without revealing to him my projects. He might have employed some violent + method to detain me; yet it would have been cowardly to attack him without + warning. Once out of his house, I wrote to him, that I had in my hands + proof enough of his crimes, to attack him openly in the face of day. I + would accuse, and he must defend himself. I went directly to a magistrate, + and you know the rest.” + </p> + <p> + At this juncture, the door opened, and one of the nurses appeared, and + said to Rodin: “Sir, the messenger that you and the magistrate sent + to the Rue Brise-Miche has just come back.” + </p> + <p> + “Has he left the letter?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir; and it was taken upstairs directly.” + </p> + <p> + “Very well. Leave us!” The nurse went out. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0088" id="link2HCH0088"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXXV. SYMPATHY. + </h2> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">I</span>f it had been + possible for Mdlle. de Cardoville to harbor any suspicion of the sincerity + of Rodin’s devotion, it must have given way before this reasoning, + unfortunately so simple and undeniable. How could she suppose the faintest + complicity between the Abbe d’Aigrigny and his secretary, when it + was the latter who completely unveiled the machinations of his master, and + exposed them to the tribunals? when in this, Rodin went even further than + Mdlle. de Cardoville would herself have gone? Of what secret design could + she suspect the Jesuit? At worst, of a desire to earn by his services the + profitable patronage of the young lady. + </p> + <p> + And then, had he not just now protested against this supposition, by + declaring his devotion, not to Mdlle. de Cardoville—not to the fair, + rich, noble lady—but to the high-souled and generous girl? Finally, + as Rodin had said himself, could any but a miserable wretch fail to be + interested in Adrienne’s fate? A strange mixture of curiosity, + surprise, and interest, was joined with Mdlle. de Cardoville’s + feelings of gratitude towards Rodin. Yet, as she recognized the superior + mind under that humble exterior, she was suddenly struck with a grave + suspicion. “Sir,” said she to Rodin, “I always confess + to the persons I esteem the doubts they may have inspired, so that they + may justify themselves, and excuse me, if I am wrong.” + </p> + <p> + Rodin looked at Mdlle. de Cardoville with surprise, as if mentally + calculating the suspicions than she might entertain, and replied, after a + moment’s silence: “You are perhaps thinking of my journey to + Cardoville, of my base proposals to your good and worthy bailiff? Oh! if + you—” + </p> + <p> + “No, no, sir,” said Adrienne, interrupting him; “you + made that confession spontaneously, and I quite understand, that, blinded + with regard to M. d’Aigrigny, you passively executed instructions + repugnant to your delicacy. But how comes it, that, with your + incontestable merits, you have so long; occupied so mean a position in his + service?” + </p> + <p> + “It is true,” said Rodin, with a smile; “that must + impress you unfavorably, my dear young lady; for a man of any capacity, + who remains long in an inferior condition, has evidently some radical + vice, some bad or base passion—” + </p> + <p> + “It is generally true, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “And personally true—with regard to myself.” + </p> + <p> + “What, sir! do you make this avowal?” + </p> + <p> + “Alas! I confess that I have a bad passion, to which, for forty + years, I have sacrificed all chances of attaining to a better position.” + </p> + <p> + “And this passion, sir?” + </p> + <p> + “Since I must make the unpleasant avowal, this passion is indolence—yes, + indolence—the horror of all activity of mind, of all moral + responsibility, of taking the lead in anything. With the twelve hundred + francs that Abbe d’Aigrigny gave me, I was the happiest man in the + world; I trusted to the nobleness of his views; his thoughts became mine, + his wishes mine. My work once finished, I returned to my poor little + chamber, I lighted my fire, I dined on vegetables—then, taking up + some book of philosophy, little known, and dreaming over it, I gave free + course to my imagination, which, restrained all the day long, carried me + through numberless theories to a delicious Utopia. Then, from the + eminences of my intelligence, lifted up Lord knows whither, by the + audacity of my thoughts, I seemed to look down upon my master, and upon + the great men of the earth. This fever lasted for three or four hours, + after which I had a good sleep; and, the next morning, I went lightly to + my work, secure of my daily bread, without cares for the future, living + content with little, waiting with impatience for the delights of my + solitary evening, and saying to myself as I went on writing like a stupid + machine: ‘And yet—and yet—if I chose!’—” + </p> + <p> + “Doubtless, you could, like others, surer than others, have reached + a higher position,” said Adrienne, greatly struck with Rodin’s + practical philosophy. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I think I could have done so; but for what purpose?—You + see, my dear young lady, what often renders people of some merit puzzles + to the vulgar, is that they are frequently content to say: ‘If I + chose!’” + </p> + <p> + “But, sir, without attaching much importance to the luxuries of + life, there is a certain degree of comfort, which age renders almost + indispensable, and which you seem to have utterly renounced.” + </p> + <p> + “Undeceive yourself, if you please, my dear young lady,” said + Rodin, with a playful smile. “I am a true Sybarite; I require + absolutely warm clothes, a good stove, a soft mattress, a good piece of + bread, a fresh radish, flavored with good cheap salt, and some good, clear + water; and, notwithstanding this complication of wants, my twelve hundred + francs have always more than sufficed, for I have been able to make some + little savings.” + </p> + <p> + “But now that you are without employment, how will you manage to + live, sir?” said Adrienne, more and more interested by the + singularities of this man, and wishing to put his disinterestedness to the + proof. + </p> + <p> + “I have laid by a little, which will serve me till I have unravelled + the last thread of Father d’Aigrigny’s dark designs. I owe + myself this reparation, for having been his dupe; three or four days, I + hope, will complete the work. After that, I have the certainty of meeting + with a situation, in my native province, under a collector of taxes: some + time ago, the offer was made me by a friend; but then I would not leave + Father d’Aigrigny, notwithstanding the advantages proposed. Fancy, + my dear young lady—eight hundred francs, with board and lodging! As + I am a little of the roughest, I should have preferred lodging apart; but, + as they give me so much, I must submit to this little inconvenience.” + </p> + <p> + Nothing could exceed Rodin’s ingenuity, in making these little + household confidences (so abominably false) to Mdlle. de Cardoville, who + felt her last suspicions give way. + </p> + <p> + “What, sir?” said she to the Jesuit, with interest; “in + three or four days, you mean to quit Paris?” + </p> + <p> + “I hope to do so, my dear young lady; and that,” added he, in + a mysterious tone, “and that for many reasons. But what would be + very precious to me,” he resumed, in a serious voice, as he looked + at Adrienne with emotion, “would be to carry with me the conviction, + that you did me the justice to believe, that, on merely reading your + interview with the Princess de Saint-Dizier, I recognized at once + qualities quite unexampled in our day, in a young person of your age and + condition.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, sir!” said Adrienne, with a smile, “do not think + yourself obliged to return so soon the sincere praises that I bestowed on + your superiority of mind. I should be better pleased with ingratitude.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no! I do not flatter you, my dear young lady. Why should I? We + may probably never meet again. I do not flatter you; I understand you—that’s + all—and what will seem strange to you, is, that your appearance + complete, the idea which I had already formed of you, my dear young lady, + in reading your interview with your aunt: and some parts of your + character, hitherto obscure to me, are now fully displayed.” + </p> + <p> + “Really, sir, you astonish me more and more.” + </p> + <p> + “I can’t help it! I merely describe my impressions. I can now + explain perfectly, for example, your passionate love of the beautiful, + your eager worship of the refinements of the senses, your ardent + aspirations for a better state of things, your courageous contempt of many + degrading and servile customs, to which woman is condemned; yes, now I + understand the noble pride with which you contemplate the mob of vain, + self-sufficient, ridiculous men, who look upon woman as a creature + destined for their service, according to the laws made after their own not + very handsome image. In the eyes of these hedge-tyrants, woman, a kind of + inferior being to whom a council of cardinals deigned to grant a soul by a + majority of two voices, ought to think herself supremely happy in being + the servant of these petty pachas, old at thirty, worn-out, used up, weary + with excesses, wishing only for repose, and seeking, as they say, to make + an end of it, which they set about by marrying some poor girl, who is on + her side desirous to make a beginning.” + </p> + <p> + Mdlle. de Cardoville would certainly have smiled at these satirical + remarks, if she had not been greatly struck by hearing Rodin express in + such appropriate terms her own ideas, though it was the first time in her + life that she saw this dangerous man. Adrienne forgot, or rather, she was + not aware, that she had to deal with a Jesuit of rare intelligence, + uniting the information and the mysterious resources of the police-spy + with the profound sagacity of the confessor; one of those diabolic + priests, who, by the help of a few hints, avowals, letters, reconstruct a + character, as Cuvier could reconstruct a body from zoological fragments. + Far from interrupting Rodin, Adrienne listened to him with growing + curiosity. Sure of the effect he produced, he continued, in a tone of + indignation: “And your aunt and the Abbe d’Aigrigny treated + you as mad, because you revolted against the yoke of such tyrants! + because, hating the shameful vices of slavery, you chose to be independent + with the suitable qualities of independence, free with the proud virtues + of liberty!” + </p> + <p> + “But, sir,” said Adrienne, more and more surprised, “how + can my thoughts be so familiar to you?” + </p> + <p> + “First, I know you perfectly, thanks to your interview with the + Princess de Saint-Dizier: and next, if it should happen that we both + pursue the same end, though by different means,” resumed Rodin, + artfully, as he looked at Mdlle. de Cardoville with an air of + intelligence, “why should not our convictions be the same?” + </p> + <p> + “I do not understand you, sir. Of what end do you speak?” + </p> + <p> + “The end pursued incessantly by all lofty, generous, independent + spirits—some acting, like you, my dear young lady, from passion, + from instinct, without perhaps explaining to themselves the high mission + they are called on to ful, fil. Thus, for example, when you take pleasure + in the most refined delights, when you surround yourself with all that + charms the senses, do you think that you only yield to the attractions of + the beautiful, to the desire of exquisite enjoyments? No! ah, no! for then + you would be incomplete, odiously selfish, a dry egotist, with a fine + taste—nothing more—and at your age, it would be hideous, my + dear young lady, it would be hideous!” + </p> + <p> + “And do you really think thus severely of me?” said Adrienne, + with uneasiness, so much influence had this man irresistibly attained over + her. + </p> + <p> + “Certainly, I should think thus of you, if you loved luxury for + luxury’s sake; but, no—quite another sentiment animates you,” + resumed the Jesuit. “Let us reason a little. Feeling a passionate + desire for all these enjoyments, you know their value and their need more + than any one—is it not so?” + </p> + <p> + “It is so,” replied Adrienne, deeply interested. + </p> + <p> + “Your gratitude and favor are then necessarily acquired by those + who, poor, laborious, and unknown, have procured for you these marvels of + luxury, which you could not do without?” + </p> + <p> + “This feeling of gratitude is so strong in me, sir,” replied + Adrienne, more and more pleased to find herself so well understood, + “that I once had inscribed on a masterpiece of goldsmith’s + work, instead of the name of the seller, that of the poor unknown artist + who designed it, and who has since risen to his true place.” + </p> + <p> + “There you see, I was not deceived,” went on Rodin; “the + taste for enjoyment renders you grateful to those who procure it for you; + and that is not all; here am I, an example, neither better nor worse than + my neighbors, but accustomed to privations, which cause me no suffering—so + that the privations of others necessarily touch me less nearly than they + do you, my dear young lady; for your habits of comfort must needs render + you more compassionate towards misfortune. You would yourself suffer too + much from poverty, not to pity and succor those who are its victims.” + </p> + <p> + “Really, sir,” said Adrienne, who began to feel herself under + the fatal charm of Rodin, “the more I listen to you, the more I am + convinced that you would defend a thousand times better than I could those + ideas for which I was so harshly reproached by Madame de Saint-Dizier and + Abbe d’Aigrigny. Oh! speak, speak, sir! I cannot tell you with what + happiness, with what pride I listen.” + </p> + <p> + Attentive and moved, her eyes fixed on the Jesuit with as much interest as + sympathy and curiosity, Adrienne, by a graceful toss of the head that was + habitual to her, threw hack her long, golden curls, the better to + contemplate Rodin, who thus resumed: “You are astonished, my dear + young lady, that you were not understood by your aunt or by Abbe d’Aigrigny! + What point of contact had you with these hypocritical, jealous, crafty + minds, such as I can judge them to be now? Do you wish a new proof of + their hateful blindness? Among what they called your monstrous follies, + which was the worst, the most damnable? Why, your resolution to live alone + and in your own way, to dispose freely of the present and the future. They + declared this to be odious, detestable, immoral. And yet—was this + resolution dictated by a mad love of liberty? no!—by a disordered + aversion to all restraint? no!—by the desire of singularity?—no!—for + then I, too, should have blamed you severely.” + </p> + <p> + “Other reasons have indeed guided me, sir, I assure you,” said + Adrienne eagerly, for she had become very eager for the esteem with which + her character might inspire Rodin. + </p> + <p> + “Oh! I know it well; your motives could only be excellent ones,” + replied the Jesuit. “Why then did you take this resolution, so much + called in question? Was it to brave established etiquette? no! for you + respected them until the hate of Mme. de Saint-Dizier forced you to + withdraw yourself from her unbearable guardianship. Was it to live alone, + to escape the eyes of the world? no! you would be a hundred times more + open to observation in this than any other condition. Was it to make a bad + use of your liberty? no, ah, no! those who design evil seek for darkness + and solitude; while you place yourself right before the jealous anal + envious eyes of the vulgar crowd. Why then do you take this determination, + so courageous and rare, unexampled in a young person of your age? Shall I + tell you, my dear young lady? It is, that you wish to prove, by your + example, that a woman of pure heart and honest mind, with a firm character + and independence of soul, may nobly and proudly throw off the humiliating + guardianship that custom has imposed upon her. Yes, instead of accepting + the fate of a revolted slave, a life only destined to hypocrisy or vice, + you wish to live freely in presence of all the world, independent, + honorable, and respected. You wish to have, like man, the exercise of your + own free will, the entire responsibility of all your actions, so as to + establish the fact, that a woman left completely to herself, may equal man + in reason, wisdom, uprightness, and surpass him indelicacy and dignity. + That is your design, my dear young lady. It is noble and great. Will your + example be imitated? I hope it may; but whether it be so or not, your + generous attempt, believe me, will place you in a high and worthy + position.” + </p> + <p> + Mdlle. de Cardoville’s eyes shone with a proud and gentle + brightness, her cheeks were slightly colored, her bosom heaved, she raised + her charming head with a movement of involuntary pride; at length + completely under the charm of that diabolical man she exclaimed: “But, + sir, who are you that can thus know and analyze my most secret thoughts, + and read my soul more clearly than myself, so as to give new life and + action to those ideas of independence which have long stirred within me? + Who are you, that can thus elevate me in my own eyes, for now I am + conscious of accomplishing a mission, honorable to myself, and perhaps + useful to my sisters immersed in slavery? Once again, sir, who are you?” + </p> + <p> + “Who am I, madame?” answered Rodin, with a smile of the + greatest good nature; “I have already told you that I am a poor old + man, who for the last forty years, having served in the day time as a + writing machine to record the ideas of others, went home every evening to + work out ideas of his own—a good kind of man who, from his garret, + watches and even takes some little share in the movement of generous + spirits, advancing towards an end that is nearer than is commonly thought. + And thus, my dear young lady, as I told you just now, you and I are both + tending towards the same objects, though you may do the same without + reflection, and merely in obedience to your rare and divine instincts. So + continue so to live, fair, free, and happy!—it is your mission—more + providential than you may think it. Yes; continue to surround yourself + with all the marvels of luxury and art; refine your senses, purify your + tastes, by the exquisite choice of your enjoyments; by genius, grace, and + purity raise yourself above the stupid and ill-favored mob of men, that + will instantly surround you, when they behold you alone and free; they + will consider you an easy prey, destined to please their cupidity, their + egotism, their folly. + </p> + <p> + “Laugh at them, and mock these idiotic and sordid pretensions. Be + the queen of your own world, and make yourself respected as a queen. Love—shine—enjoy—it + is your part upon earth. All the flowers, with which you are whelmed in + profusion, will one day bear fruit. You think that you have lived only for + pleasure; in reality, you will have lived for the noblest aims that could + tempt a great and lofty soul. And so—some years hence—we may + meet again, perhaps; you, fairer and more followed than ever; I, older and + more obscure. But, no matter—a secret voice, I am sure, says to you + at this moment, that between us two, however different, there exists an + invisible bond, a mysterious communion, which nothing hereafter will ever + be able to destroy!” + </p> + <p> + He uttered these final words in a tone of such profound emotion, that + Adrienne started. Rodin had approached without her perceiving it, and + without, as it were, walking at all, for he dragged his steps along the + floor, with a sort of serpent motion; and he had spoken with so much + warmth and enthusiasm, that his pale face had become slightly tinged, and + his repulsive ugliness had almost disappeared before the brilliancy of his + small sharp eyes, now wide open, and fixed full upon Adrienne. The latter + leaned forward, with half-open lips and deep-drawn breath, nor could she + take her eyes from the Jesuit’s; he had ceased to speak, and yet she + was still listening. The feelings of the fair young lady, in presence of + this little old man, dirty, ugly, and poor, were inexplicable. That + comparison so common, and yet so true, of the frightful fascination of the + bird by the serpent, might give some idea of the singular impression made + upon her. Rodin’s tactics were skillful and sure. Until now, Mdlle. + de Cardoville had never analyzed her tastes or instincts. She had followed + them, because they were inoffensive and charming. How happy and proud she + then was sure to be to hear a man of superior mind not only praise these + tendencies, for which she had been heretofore so severely blamed, but + congratulate her upon them, as upon something great, noble, and divine! If + Rodin had only addressed himself to Adrienne’s self-conceit, he + would have failed in his perfidious designs, for she had not the least + spark of vanity. But he addressed himself to all that was enthusiastic and + generous in her heart; that which he appeared to encourage and admire in + her was really worthy of encouragement and admiration. How could she fail + to be the dupe of such language, concealing though it did such dark and + fatal projects? + </p> + <p> + Struck with the Jesuit’s rare intelligence, feeling her curiosity + greatly excited by some mysterious words that he had purposely uttered, + hardly explaining to herself the strange influence which this pernicious + counsellor already exercised over her, and animated by respectful + compassion for a man of his age and talents placed in so precarious a + position, Adrienne said to him, with all her natural cordiality, “A + man of your merit and character, sir, ought not to be at the mercy of the + caprice of circumstances. Some of your words have opened a new horizon + before me; I feel that, on many points, your counsels may be of the + greatest use to me. Moreover, in coming to fetch me from this house, and + in devoting yourself to the service of other persons of my family, you + have shown me marks of interest which I cannot forget without ingratitude. + You have lost a humble but secure situation. Permit me—” + </p> + <p> + “Not a word more, my dear young lady,” said Rodin, + interrupting Mdlle. de Cardoville, with an air of chagrin. “I feel + for you the deepest sympathy; I am honored by having ideas in common with + you; I believe firmly that some day you will have to ask advice of the + poor old philosopher; and, precisely because of all that, I must and ought + to maintain towards you the most complete independence.” + </p> + <p> + “But, sir, it is I that would be the obliged party, if you deigned + to accept what I offer.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, my dear young lady,” said Rodin, with a smile: “I + know that your generosity would always know how to make gratitude light + and easy; but, once more, I cannot accept anything from you. One day, + perhaps, you will know why.” + </p> + <p> + “One day?” + </p> + <p> + “It is impossible for me to tell you more. And then, supposing I + were under an obligation to you, how could I tell you all that was good + and beautiful in your actions? Hereafter, if you are somewhat indebted to + me for my advice, so much the better; I shall be the more ready to blame + you, if I find anything to blame.” + </p> + <p> + “In this way, sir, you would forbid me to be grateful to you.” + </p> + <p> + “No, no,” said Rodin, with apparent emotion. “Oh, + believe me! there will come a solemn moment, in which you may repay all, + in a manner worthy of yourself and me.” + </p> + <p> + This conversation was here interrupted by the nurse, who said to Adrienne + as she entered: “Madame, there is a little humpback workwoman + downstairs, who wishes to speak to you. As, according to the doctor’s + new orders, you are to do as you like, I have come to ask, if I am to + bring her up to you. She is so badly dressed, that I did not venture.” + </p> + <p> + “Bring her up, by all means,” said Adrienne, hastily, for she + had recognized Mother Bunch by the nurse’s description. “Bring + her up directly.” + </p> + <p> + “The doctor has also left word, that his carriage is to be at your + orders, madame; are the horses to be put to?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, in a quarter of an hour,” answered Adrienne to the + nurse, who went out; then, addressing Rodin, she continued: “I do + not think the magistrate can now be long, before he returns with Marshal + Simon’s daughters?” + </p> + <p> + “I think not, my dear young lady; but who is this deformed + workwoman?” asked Rodin, with an air of indifference. + </p> + <p> + “The adopted sister of a gallant fellow, who risked all in + endeavoring to rescue me from this house. And, sir,” said Adrienne, + with emotion, “this young workwoman is a rare and excellent + creature. Never was a nobler mind, a more generous heart, concealed + beneath an exterior less—” + </p> + <p> + But reflecting, that Rodin seemed to unite in his own person the same + moral and physical contrasts as the sewing-girl, Adrienne stopped short, + and then added, with inimitable grace, as she looked at the Jesuit, who + was somewhat astonished at the sudden pause: “No; this noble girl is + not the only person who proves how loftiness of soul, and superiority of + mind, can make us indifferent to the vain advantages which belong only to + the accidents of birth or fortune.” At the moment of Adrienne + speaking these last words, Mother Bunch entered the room. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0089" id="link2HCH0089"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXXVI. SUSPICIONS. + </h2> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">M</span>dlle. de + Cardoville sprang hastily to meet the visitor, and said to her, in a voice + of emotion, as she extended her arms towards her: “Come—come—there + is no grating to separate us now!” + </p> + <p> + On this allusion, which reminded her how her poor, laborious hand had been + respectfully kissed by the fair and rich patrician, the young workwoman + felt a sentiment of gratitude, which was at once ineffable and proud. But, + as she hesitated to respond to the cordial reception, Adrienne embraced + her with touching affection. When Mother Bunch found herself clasped in + the fair arms of Mdlle. de Cardoville, when she felt the fresh and rosy + lips of the young lady fraternally pressed to her own pale and sickly + cheek, she burst into tears without being able to utter a word. Rodin, + retired in a corner of the chamber, locked on this scene with secret + uneasiness. Informed of the refusal, so full of dignity, which Mother + Bunch had opposed to the perfidious temptations of the superior of St. + Mary’s Convent, and knowing the deep devotion of this generous + creature for Agricola—a devotion which for some days she had so + bravely extended to Mdlle. de Cardoville—the Jesuit did not like to + see the latter thus laboring to increase that affection. He thought, + wisely, that one should never despise friend or enemy, however small they + may appear. Now, devotion to Mdlle. de Cardoville constituted an enemy in + his eyes; and we know, moreover, that Rodin combined in his character rare + firmness, with a certain degree of superstitious weakness, and he now felt + uneasy at the singular impression of fear which Mother Bunch inspired in + him. He determined to recollect this presentiment. + </p> + <p> + Delicate natures sometimes display in the smallest things the most + charming instincts of grace and goodness. Thus, when the sewing-girl was + shedding abundant and sweet tears of gratitude, Adrienne took a richly + embroidered handkerchief, and dried the pale and melancholy face. This + action, so simple and spontaneous, spared the work-girl one humiliation; + for, alas! humiliation and suffering are the two gulfs, along the edge of + which misfortune continually passes. Therefore, the least kindness is in + general a double benefit to the unfortunate. Perhaps the reader may smile + in disdain at the puerile circumstance we mention. But poor Mother Bunch, + not venturing to take from her pocket her old ragged handkerchief, would + long have remained blinded by her tears, if Mdlle. de Cardoville had not + come to her aid. + </p> + <p> + “Oh! you are so good—so nobly charitable, lady!” was all + that the sempstress could say, in a tone of deep emotion; for she was + still more touched by the attention of the young lady, than she would + perhaps have been by a service rendered. + </p> + <p> + “Look there, sir,” said Adrienne to Rodin, who drew near + hastily. “Yes,” added the young patrician, proudly, “I + have indeed discovered a treasure. Look at her, sir; and love her as I + love her, honor as I honor. She has one of those hearts for which we are + seeking.” + </p> + <p> + “And which, thank heaven, we are still able to find, my dear young + lady!” said Rodin, as he bowed to the needle-woman. + </p> + <p> + The latter raised her eyes slowly, and locked at the Jesuit. At sight of + that cadaverous countenance, which was smiling benignantly upon her, the + young girl started. It was strange! she had never seen this man, and yet + she felt instantly the same fear and repulsion that he had felt with + regard to her. Generally timid and confused, the work-girl could not + withdraw her eyes from Rodin’s; her heart beat violently, as at the + coming of some great danger, and, as the excellent creature feared only + for those she loved, she approached Adrienne involuntarily, keeping her + eyes fixed on Rodin. The Jesuit was too good a physiognomist not to + perceive the formidable impression he had made, and he felt an increase of + his instinctive aversion for the sempstress. Instead of casting down his + eyes, he appeared to examine her with such sustained attention, that + Mdlle. de Cardoville was astonished at it. + </p> + <p> + “I beg your pardon, my dear girl,” said Rodin, as if recalling + his recollections, and addressing himself to Mother Bunch, “I beg + your pardon—but I think—if I am not deceived—did you not + go a few days since to St. Mary’s Convent, hard by?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “No doubt, it was you. Where then was my head?” cried Rodin. + “It was you—I should have guessed it sooner.” + </p> + <p> + “Of what do you speak, sir?” asked Adrienne. + </p> + <p> + “Oh! you are right, my dear young lady,” said Rodin, pointing + to the hunchback. “She has indeed a noble heart, such as we seek. If + you knew with what dignity, with what courage this poor girl, who was out + of work and, for her, to want work is to want everything—if you + knew, I say, with what dignity she rejected the shameful wages that the + superior of the convent was unprincipled enough to offer, on condition of + her acting as a spy in a family where it was proposed to place her.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, that is infamous!” cried Mdlle. de Cardoville, with + disgust. “Such a proposal to this poor girl—to her!” + </p> + <p> + “Madame,” said Mother Bunch, bitterly, “I had no work, I + was poor, they did not know me—and they thought they might propose + anything to the likes of me.” + </p> + <p> + “And I tell you,” said Rodin, “that it was a double + baseness on the part of the superior, to offer such temptation to misery, + and it was doubly noble in you to refuse.” + </p> + <p> + “Sir,” said the sewing-girl, with modest embarrassment. + </p> + <p> + “Oh! I am not to be intimidated,” resumed Rod in. “Praise + or blame, I speak out roughly what I think. Ask this dear young lady,” + he added, with a glance at Adrienne. “I tell you plainly, that I + think as well of you as she does herself.” + </p> + <p> + “Believe me, dear,” said Adrienne, “there are some sorts + of praise which honor, recompense, and encourage; and M. Rodin’s is + of the number. I know it,—yes, I know it.” + </p> + <p> + “Nay, my dear young lady, you must not ascribe to me all the honor + of this judgment.” + </p> + <p> + “How so, sir?” + </p> + <p> + “Is not this dear girl the adopted sister of Agricola Baudoin, the + gallant workman, the energetic and popular poet? Is not the affection of + such a man the best of guarantees, and does it not enable us to judge, as + it were, by the label?” added Rodin, with a smile. + </p> + <p> + “You are right, sir,” said Adrienne; “for, before + knowing this dear girl, I began to feel deeply interested in her, from the + day that her adopted brother spoke to me about her. He expressed himself + with so much warmth, so much enthusiasm, that I at once conceived an + esteem for the person capable of inspiring so noble an attachment.” + </p> + <p> + These words of Adrienne, joined to another circumstance, had such an + effect upon their hearer, that her pale face became crimson. The + unfortunate hunchback loved Agricola, with love as passionate as it was + secret and painful: the most indirect allusion to this fatal sentiment + occasioned her the most cruel embarrassment. Now, the moment Mdlle. de + Cardoville spoke of Agricola’s attachment for Mother Bunch, the + latter had encountered Rodin’s observing and penetrating look fixed + upon her. Alone with Adrienne, the sempstress would have felt only a + momentary confusion on hearing the name of the smith; but unfortunately + she fancied that the Jesuit, who already filled her with involuntary fear, + had seen into her heart, and read the secrets of that fatal love, of which + she was the victim. Thence the deep blushes of the poor girl, and the + embarrassment so painfully visible, that Adrienne was struck with it. + </p> + <p> + A subtle and prompt mind, like Rodin’s on perceiving the smallest + effect, immediately seeks the cause. Proceeding by comparison, the Jesuit + saw on one side a deformed, but intelligent young girl, capable of + passionate devotion; on the other, a young workman, handsome, bold, frank, + and full of talent. “Brought up together, sympathizing with each + other on many points, there must be some fraternal affection between them,” + said he to himself; “but fraternal affection does not blush, and the + hunchback blushed and grew troubled beneath my look; does she, then, Love + Agricola?” + </p> + <p> + Once on the scent of this discovery, Rodin wished to pursue the + investigation. Remarking the surprise and visible uneasiness that Mother + Bunch had caused in Adrienne, he said to the latter, with a smile, looking + significantly at the needlewoman: “You see, my dear young lady, how + she blushes. The good girl is troubled by what we said of the attachment + of this gallant workman.” + </p> + <p> + The needlewoman hung down her head, overcome with confusion. After the + pause of a second, during which Rodin preserved silence, so as to give + time for his cruel remark to pierce the heart of the victim, the savage + resumed: “Look at the dear girl! how embarrassed she appears!” + </p> + <p> + Again, after another silence, perceiving that Mother Bunch from crimson + had become deadly pale, and was trembling in all her limbs, the Jesuit + feared he had gone too far, whilst Adrienne said to her friend, with + anxiety: “Why, dear child, are you so agitated?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! it is clear enough,” resumed Rodin, with an air of + perfect simplicity; for having discovered what he wished to know, he now + chose to appear unconscious. “It is quite clear and plain. This good + girl has the modesty of a kind and tender sister for a brother. When you + praise him, she fancies that she is herself praised.” + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:65%;"> + <img src="images/20351m.jpg" alt="20351m” width=" /><br /> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/20351.jpg"><i>Original</i></a> + </h5> + <p> + “And she is as modest as she is excellent,” added Adrienne, + taking bath of the girl’s hands, “the least praise, either of + her adopted brother or of herself, troubles her in this way. But it is + mere childishness, and I must scold her for it.” + </p> + <p> + Mdlle. de Cardoville spoke sincerely, for the explanation given by Rodin + appeared to her very plausible. Like all other persons who, dreading every + moment the discovery of some painful secret have their courage as easily + restored as shaken, Mother Bunch persuaded herself (and she needed to do + so, to escape dying of shame), that the last words of Rodin were sincere, + and that he had no idea of the love she felt for Agricola. So her agony + diminished, and she found words to reply to Mdlle. de Cardoville. + </p> + <p> + “Excuse me, madame,” she said timidly, “I am so little + accustomed to such kindness as that with which you overwhelm me, that I + make a sorry return for all your goodness.” + </p> + <p> + “Kindness, my poor girl?” said Adrienne. “I have done + nothing for you yet. But, thank heaven! from this day I shall be able to + keep my promise, and reward your devotion to me, your courageous + resignation, your sacred love of labor, and the dignity of which you have + given so many proofs, under the most cruel privations. In a word, from + this day, if you do not object to it, we will part no more.” + </p> + <p> + “Madame, you are too kind,” said Mother Bunch, in a trembling + voice; “but I—” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! be satisfied,” said Adrienne, anticipating her meaning. + “If you accept my offer, I shall know how to reconcile with my + desire (not a little selfish) of having you near me, the independence of + your character, your habits of labor, your taste for retirement, and your + anxiety to devote yourself to those who deserve commiseration; it is, I + confess, by affording you the means of satisfying these generous + tendencies, that I hope to seduce and keep you by me.” + </p> + <p> + “But what have I done?” asked the other, simply, “to + merit any gratitude from you? Did you not begin, on the contrary, by + acting so generously to my adopted brother?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! I do not speak of gratitude,” said Adrienne; “we + are quits. I speak of friendship and sincere affection, which I now offer + you.” + </p> + <p> + “Friendship to me, madame?” + </p> + <p> + “Come, come,” said Adrienne, with a charming smile, “do + not be proud because your position gives you the advantage. I have set my + heart on having you for a friend, and you will see that it shall be so. + But now that I think of it (a little late, you will say), what good wind + brings you hither?” + </p> + <p> + “This morning M. Dagobert received a letter, in which he was + requested to come to this place, to learn some news that would be of the + greatest interest to him. Thinking it concerned Marshal Simon’s + daughters, he said to me: ‘Mother Bunch, you have taken so much + interest in those dear children, that you must come with me: you shall + witness my joy on finding them, and that will be your reward.’” + </p> + <p> + Adrienne glanced at Rodin. The latter made an affirmative movement of the + head, and answered: “Yes, yes, my dear young lady: it was I who + wrote to the brave soldier, but without signing the letter, or giving any + explanation. You shall know why.” + </p> + <p> + “Then, my dear girl, why did you come alone?” said Adrienne. + </p> + <p> + “Alas, madame! on arriving here, it was your kind reception that + made me forget my fears.” + </p> + <p> + “What fears?” asked Rodin. + </p> + <p> + “Knowing that you lived here, madame, I supposed the letter was from + you; I told M. Dagobert so, and he thought the same. When we arrived, his + impatience was so great, that he asked at the door if the orphans were in + this house, and he gave their description. They told him no. Then, in + spite of my supplications, he insisted on going to the convent to inquire + about them.” + </p> + <p> + “What imprudence!” cried Adrienne. + </p> + <p> + “After what took place the other night, when he broke in,” + added Rodin, shrugging his shoulders. + </p> + <p> + “It was in vain to tell him,” returned Mother Bunch, “that + the letter did not announce positively, that the orphans would be + delivered up to him; but that, no doubt, he would gain some information + about them. He refused to hear anything, but said to me: ‘If I + cannot find them, I will rejoin you. But they were at the convent the day + before yesterday, and now that all is discovered, they cannot refuse to + give them up—” + </p> + <p> + “And with such a man there is no disputing!” said Rodin, with + a smile. + </p> + <p> + “I hope they will not recognize him!” said Adrienne, + remembering Baleinier’s threats. + </p> + <p> + “It is not likely,” replied Rodin; “they will only + refuse him admittance. That will be, I hope, the worst misfortune that + will happen. Besides, the magistrate will soon be here with the girls. I + am no longer wanted: other cares require my attention. I must seek out + Prince Djalma. Only tell me, my dear young lady, where I shall find you, + to keep you informed of my discoveries, and to take measures with regard + to the young prince, if my inquiries, as I hope, shall be attended with + success.” + </p> + <p> + “You will find me in my new house, Rue d’Anjou, formerly + Beaulieu House. But now I think of it,” said Adrienne, suddenly, + after some moments of reflection, “it would not be prudent or + proper, on many accounts, to lodge the Prince Djalma in the pavilion I + occupied at Saint-Dizier House. I saw, some time ago, a charming little + house, all furnished and ready; it only requires some embellishments, that + could be completed in twenty four hours, to make it a delightful + residence. Yes, that will be a thousand times preferable,” added + Mdlle. de Cardoville, after a new interval of silence; “and I shall + thus be able to preserve the strictest incognito.” + </p> + <p> + “What!” cried Rodin, whose projects would be much impeded by + this new resolution of the young lady; “you do not wish him to know + who you are?” + </p> + <p> + “I wish Prince Djalma to know absolutely nothing of the anonymous + friend who comes to his aid; I desire that my name should not be + pronounced before him, and that he should not even know of my existence—at + least, for the present. Hereafter—in a month, perhaps—I will + see; circumstances will guide me.” + </p> + <p> + “But this incognito,” said Rodin, hiding his disappointment, + “will be difficult to preserve.” + </p> + <p> + “If the prince had inhabited the lodge, I agree with you; the + neighborhood of my aunt would have enlightened him, and this fear is one + of the reasons that have induced me to renounce my first project. But the + prince will inhabit a distant quarter—the Rue Blanche. Who will + inform him of my secret? One of my old friends, M. Norval—you, sir—and + this dear girl,” pointing to Mother Bunch, “on whose + discretion I can depend as on your own, will be my only confidants. My + secret will then be quite safe. Besides, we will talk further on this + subject to-morrow. You must begin by discovering the retreat of this + unfortunate young prince.” + </p> + <p> + Rodin, though much vexed at Adrienne’s subtle determination with + regard to Djalma, put the best face on the matter, and replied: “Your + intentions shall be scrupulously fulfilled, my dear young lady; and + to-morrow, with your leave, I hope to give you a good account of what you + are pleased to call my providential mission.” + </p> + <p> + “To-morrow, then, I shall expect you with impatience,” said + Adrienne, to Rodin, affectionately. “Permit me always to rely upon + you, as from this day you may count upon me. You must be indulgent with + me, sir; for I see that I shall yet have many counsels, many services to + ask of you—though I already owe you so much.” + </p> + <p> + “You will never owe me enough, my dear young lady, never enough,” + said Rodin, as he moved discreetly towards the door, after bowing to + Adrienne. At the very moment he was going out, he found himself face to + face with Dagobert. + </p> + <p> + “Holloa! at last I have caught one!” shouted the soldier, as + he seized the Jesuit by the collar with a vigorous hand. + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:65%;"> + <img src="images/20359m.jpg" alt="20359m” width=" /><br /> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/20359.jpg"><i>Original</i></a> + </h5> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0090" id="link2HCH0090"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXXVII. EXCUSES. + </h2> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">O</span>n seeing Dagobert + grasp Rodin so roughly by the collar, Mdlle. de Cardoville exclaimed in + terror, as she advanced several steps towards the soldier: “In the + name of Heaven, sir! what are you doing?” + </p> + <p> + “What am I doing?” echoed the soldier, harshly, without + relaxing his hold on Rodin, and turning his head towards Adrienne, whom he + did not know; “I take this opportunity to squeeze the throat of one + of the wretches in the band of that renegade, until he tells me where my + poor children are.” + </p> + <p> + “You strangle me,” said the Jesuit, in a stifled voice, as he + tried to escape from the soldier. + </p> + <p> + “Where are the orphans, since they are not here, and the convent + door has been closed against me?” cried Dagobert, in a voice of + thunder. + </p> + <p> + “Help! help!” gasped Rodin. + </p> + <p> + “Oh! it is dreadful!” said Adrienne, as, pale and trembling, + she held up her clasped hands to Dagobert. “Have mercy, sir! listen + to me! listen to him!” + </p> + <p> + “M. Dagobert!” cried Mother Bunch, seizing with her weak hands + the soldier’s arm, and showing him Adrienne, “this is Mdlle. + de Cardoville. What violence in her presence! and then, you are deceived + doubtless!” + </p> + <p> + At the name of Mdlle. de Cardoville, the benefactress of his son, the + soldier turned round suddenly, and loosened his hold on Rodin. The latter, + crimson with rage and suffocation, set about adjusting his collar and his + cravat. + </p> + <p> + “I beg your pardon, madame,” said Dagobert, going towards + Adrienne, who was still pale with fright; “I did not known who you + were, and the first impulse of anger quite carried me away.” + </p> + <p> + “But what has this gentleman done to you?” said Adrienne. + “If you had listened to me, you would have learned—” + </p> + <p> + “Excuse me if I interrupt you, madame,” said the soldier to + Adrienne, in a hollow voice. Then addressing himself to Rodin, who had + recovered his coolness, he added: “Thank the lady, and begone!—If + you remain here, I will not answer for myself.” + </p> + <p> + “One word only, my dear sir,” said Rodin. + </p> + <p> + “I tell you that if you remain, I will not answer for myself!” + cried Dagobert, stamping his foot. + </p> + <p> + “But, for heaven’s sake, tell me the cause of this anger,” + resumed Adrienne; “above all, do not trust to appearances. Calm + yourself, and listen.” + </p> + <p> + “Calm myself, madame!” cried Dagobert, in despair; “I + can think only of one thing, ma dame—of the arrival of Marshal Simon—he + will be in Paris to-day or to-morrow.” + </p> + <p> + “Is it possible?” said Adrienne. Rodin started with surprise + and joy. + </p> + <p> + “Yesterday evening,” proceeded Dagobert, “I received a + letter from the marshal: he has landed at Havre. For three days I have + taken step after step, hoping that the orphans would be restored to me, as + the machinations of those wretches have failed.” He pointed to Rodin + with a new gesture of impatience. “Well! it is not so. They are + conspiring some new infamy. I am prepared for anything.” + </p> + <p> + “But, sir,” said Rodin advancing, “permit me—” + </p> + <p> + “Begone!” cried Dagobert, whose irritation and anxiety + redoubled, as he thought how at any moment Marshal Simon might arrive in + Paris. “Begone! Were it not for this lady, I would at least be + revenged on some one.” + </p> + <p> + Rodin made a nod of intelligence to Adrienne, whom he approached + prudently, and, pointing to Dagobert with a gesture of affectionate + commiseration, he said to the latter: “I will leave you, sir, and + the more willingly, as I was about to withdraw when you entered.” + Then, coming still closer to Mdlle. de Cardoville, the Jesuit whispered to + her, “Poor soldier! he is beside himself with grief, and would be + incapable of hearing me. Explain it all to him, my dear young lady; he + will be nicely caught,” added he, with a cunning air. “But in + the meantime,” resumed Rodin, feeling in the side-pocket of his + great-coat and taking out a small parcel, “let me beg you to give + him this, my dear young lady. It is my revenge, and a very good one.” + </p> + <p> + And while Adrienne, holding the little parcel in her hand looked at the + Jesuit with astonishment, the latter laying his forefinger upon his lip, + as if recommending silence, drew backward on tiptoe to the door, and went + out after again pointing to Dagobert with a gesture of pity; while the + soldier, in sullen dejection, with his head drooping, and his arms crossed + upon his bosom, remained deaf to the sewing-girl’s earnest + consolations. When Rodin had left the room, Adrienne, approaching the + soldier, said to him, in her mild voice, with an expression of deep + interest, “Your sudden entry prevented my asking you a question that + greatly concerns me. How is your wound?” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you, madame,” said Dagobert, starting from his painful + lethargy, “it is of no consequence, but I have not time to think of + it. I am sorry to have been so rough in your presence, and to have driven + away that wretch; but ‘tis more than I could master. At sight of + those people, my blood is all up.” + </p> + <p> + “And yet, believe me, you have been too hasty in your judgment. The + person who was just now here—” + </p> + <p> + “Too hasty, madame! I do not see him to-day for the first time. He + was with that renegade the Abbe d’Aigrigny—” + </p> + <p> + “No doubt!—and yet he is an honest and excellent man.” + </p> + <p> + “He!” cried Dagobert. + </p> + <p> + “Yes; for at this moment he is busy about only one thing restoring + to you those dear children!” + </p> + <p> + “He!” repeated Dagobert, as if he could not believe what he + heard. “He restore me my children?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; and sooner, perhaps, than you think for.” + </p> + <p> + “Madame,” said Dagobert, abruptly, “he deceives you. You + are the dupe of that old rascal.” + </p> + <p> + “No,” said Adrienne, shaking her head, with a smile. “I + have proofs of his good faith. First of all, it is he who delivers me from + this house.” + </p> + <p> + “Is it true?” said Dagobert, quite confounded. + </p> + <p> + “Very true; and here is, perhaps, something that will reconcile you + to him,” said Adrienne, as she delivered the small parcel which + Rodin had given her as he went out. “Not wishing to exasperate you + by his presence, he said to me: ‘Give this to that brave soldier; it + is my revenge.’” + </p> + <p> + Dagobert looked at Mdlle. de Cardoville with surprise, as he mechanically + opened the little parcel. When he had unfolded it, and discovered his own + silver cross, black with age, and the old red, faded ribbon, treasures + taken from him at the White Falcon Inn, at the same time as his papers, he + exclaimed in a broken voice: “My cross! my cross! It is my cross!” + In the excitement of his joy, he pressed the silver star to his gray + moustache. + </p> + <p> + Adrienne and the other were deeply affected by the emotion of the old + soldier, who continued, as he ran towards the door by which Rodin had gone + out: “Next to a service rendered to Marshal Simon, my wife, or son, + nothing could be more precious to me. And you answer for this worthy man, + madame, and I have ill used him in your presence! Oh! he is entitled to + reparation, and he shall have it.” + </p> + <p> + So saying, Dagobert left the room precipitately, hastened through two + other apartments, gained the staircase, and descending it rapidly, + overtook Rodin on the lowest step. + </p> + <p> + “Sir,” said the soldier to him, in an agitated voice, as he + seized him by the arm, “you must come upstairs directly.” + </p> + <p> + “You should make up your mind to one thing or the other, my dear + sir,” said Rodin, stopping good-naturedly; “one moment you + tell me to begone, and the next to return. How are we to decide?” + </p> + <p> + “Just now, sir, I was wrong; and when I am wrong, I acknowledge it. + I abused and ill-treated you before witnesses; I will make you my + apologies before witnesses.” + </p> + <p> + “But, my dear sir—I am much obliged to you—I am in a + hurry.” + </p> + <p> + “I cannot help your being in a hurry. I tell you, I must have you + come upstairs, directly—or else—or else,” resumed + Dagobert, taking the hand of the Jesuit, and pressing it with as much + cordiality as emotion, “or else the happiness you have caused the in + returning my cross will not be complete.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, then, my good friend, let us go up.” + </p> + <p> + “And not only have you restored me my cross, for which I have wept + many tears, believe me, unknown to any one,” cried Dagobert, much + affected; “but the young lady told me, that, thanks to you, those + poor children but tell me—no false joy-is it really true?—My + God! is it really true?” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! ah! Mr. Inquisitive,” said Rodin, with a cunning smile. + Then he added: “Be perfectly tranquil, my growler; you shall have + your two angels back again.” And the Jesuit began to ascend the + stairs. + </p> + <p> + “Will they be restored to me to-day?” cried Dagobert, stopping + Rodin abruptly, by catching hold of his sleeve. + </p> + <p> + “Now, really, my good friend,” said the Jesuit, “let us + come to the point. Are we to go up or down? I do not find fault, but you + turn me about like a teetotum.” + </p> + <p> + “You are right. We shall be better able to explain things upstairs. + Come with me—quick! quick!” said Dagobert, as, taking the + Jesuit by the arm, he hurried him along, and brought him triumphantly into + the room, where Adrienne and Mother Bunch had remained in much surprise at + the soldier’s sudden disappearance. + </p> + <p> + “Here he is! here he is!” cried Dagobert, as he entered. + “Luckily, I caught him at the bottom of the stairs.” + </p> + <p> + “And you have made me come up at a fine pace!” added Rodin, + pretty well out of breath. + </p> + <p> + “Now, sir,” said Dagobert, in a grave voice, “I declare, + in presence of all, that I was wrong to abuse and ill-treat you. I make + you my apology for it, sir; and I acknowledge, with joy, that I owe you—much—oh! + very much and when I owe, I pay.” + </p> + <p> + So saying, Dagobert held out his honest hand to Rodin, who pressed it in a + very affable manner, and replied: “Now, really—what is all + this about? What great service do you speak of?” + </p> + <p> + “This!” said Dagobert, holding up the cross before Rodin’s + eyes. “You do not know, then, what this cross is to me?” + </p> + <p> + “On the contrary, supposing you would set great store by it, I + intended to have the pleasure of delivering it myself. I had brought it + for that purpose; but, between ourselves, you gave me so warm a reception, + that I had not the time—” + </p> + <p> + “Sir,” said Dagobert, in confusion, “I assure you that I + sincerely repent of what I have done.” + </p> + <p> + “I know it, my good friend; do not say another word about it. You + were then much attached to this cross?” + </p> + <p> + “Attached to it, sir!” cried Dagobert. “Why, this cross,” + and he kissed it as he spoke, “is my relic. He from whom it came was + my saint—my hero—and he had touched it with his hand!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” said Rodin, feigning to regard the cross with as much + curiosity as respectful admiration; “did Napoleon—the Great + Napoleon—indeed touch with his own hand—that victorious hand!—this + noble star of honor?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir, with his own hand. He placed it there upon my bleeding + breast, as a cure for my fifth wound. So that, you see, were I dying of + hunger, I think I should not hesitate betwixt bread and my cross—that + I might, in any case, have it on my heart in death. But, enough—enough! + let us talk of something else. It is foolish in an old soldier, is it not?” + added Dagobert, drawing his hand across his eyes, and then, as if ashamed + to deny what he really felt: “Well, then! yes,” he resumed, + raising his head proudly, and no longer seeking to conceal the tears that + rolled down his cheek; “yes, I weep for joy, to have found my cross—my + cross, that the Emperor gave me with his victorious hand, as this worthy + man has called it.” + </p> + <p> + “Then blessed be my poor old hand for having restored you the + glorious treasure!” said Rodin, with emotion. “In truth,” + he added, “the day will be a good one for everybody—as I + announced to you this morning in my letter.” + </p> + <p> + “That letter without a signature?” asked the soldier, more and + more astonished. “Was it from you?” + </p> + <p> + “It was I who wrote it. Only, fearing some new snare of the Abbe d’Aigrigny, + I did not choose, you understand, to explain myself more clearly.” + </p> + <p> + “Then—I shall see—my orphans?” + </p> + <p> + Rodin nodded affirmatively, with an expression of great good-nature. + </p> + <p> + “Presently—perhaps immediately,” said Adrienne, with + smile. “Well! was I right in telling you that you had not judged + this gentleman fairly?” + </p> + <p> + “Why did he not tell me this when I came in?” cried Dagobert, + almost beside himself with joy. + </p> + <p> + “There was one difficulty in the way, my good friend,” said + Rodin; “it was, that when you came in, you nearly throttled me.” + </p> + <p> + “True; I was too hasty. Once more, I ask your pardon. But was I to + blame? I had only seen you with that Abbe d’Aigrigny, and in the + first moment—” + </p> + <p> + “This dear young lady,” said Rodin, bowing to Adrienne, + “will tell you that I have been, without knowing it, the accomplice + IN many perfidious actions; but as soon as I began to see my way through + the darkness, I quitted the evil course on which I had entered, and + returned to that which is honest, just and true.” + </p> + <p> + Adrienne nodded affirmatively to Dagobert, who appeared to consult her + look. + </p> + <p> + “If I did not sign the letter that I wrote to you, my good friend, + it was partly from fear that my name might inspire suspicion; and if I + asked you to come hither, instead of to the convent, it was that I had + some dread—like this dear young lady—lest you might be + recognized by the porter or by the gardener, your affair of the other + night rendering such a recognition somewhat dangerous.” + </p> + <p> + “But M. Baleinier knows all; I forgot that,” said Adrienne, + with uneasiness. “He threatened to denounce M. Dagobert and his son, + if I made any complaint.” + </p> + <p> + “Do not be alarmed, my dear young lady; it will soon be for you to + dictate conditions,” replied Rodin. “Leave that to me; and as + for you, my good friend, your torments are now finished.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Adrienne, “an upright and worthy magistrate + has gone to the convent, to fetch Marshal Simon’s daughters. He will + bring them hither; but he thought with me, that it would be most proper + for them to take up their abode in my house. I cannot, however, come to + this decision without your consent, for it is to you that these orphans + were entrusted by their mother.” + </p> + <p> + “You wish to take her place with regard to them, madame?” + replied Dagobert. “I can only thank you with all my heart, for + myself and for the children. But, as the lesson has been a sharp one, I + must beg to remain at the door of their chamber, night and day. If they go + out with you, I must be allowed to follow them at a little distance, so as + to keep them in view, just like Spoil-sport, who has proved himself a + better guardian than myself. When the marshal is once here—it will + be in a day or two—my post will be relieved. Heaven grant it may be + soon!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” replied Rodin, in a firm voice, “heaven grant he + may arrive soon, for he will have to demand a terrible reckoning of the + Abbe d’Aigrigny, for the persecution of his daughters; and yet the + marshal does not know all.” + </p> + <p> + “And don’t you tremble for the renegade?” asked + Dagobert, as he thought how the marquis would soon find himself face to + face with the marshal. + </p> + <p> + “I never care for cowards and traitors,” answered Rodin; + “and when Marshal Simon returns—” Then, after a pause of + some seconds, he continued: “If he will do me the honor to hear me, + he shall be edified as to the conduct of the Abbe d’Aigrigny. The + marshal knows that his dearest friends, as well as himself, have been + victims of the hatred of that dangerous man.” + </p> + <p> + “How so?” said Dagobert. + </p> + <p> + “Why, yourself, for instance,” replied Rodin; “you are + an example of what I advance.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you think it was mere chance, that brought about the scene at + the White Falcon Inn, near Leipsic?” + </p> + <p> + “Who told you of that scene?” said Dagobert in astonishment. + </p> + <p> + “Where you accepted the challenge of Morok,” continued the + Jesuit, without answering Dagobert’s question, “and so fell + into a trap, or else refused it, and were then arrested for want of + papers, and thrown into prison as a vagabond, with these poor children. + Now, do you know the object of this violence? It was to prevent your being + here on the 13th of February.” + </p> + <p> + “But the more I hear, sir,” said Adrienne, “the more I + am alarmed at the audacity of the Abbe d’Aigrigny, and the extent of + the means he has at his command. Really,” she resumed, with + increasing surprise, “if your words were not entitled to absolute + belief—” + </p> + <p> + “You would doubt their truth, madame?” said Dagobert. “It + is like me. Bad as he is. I cannot think that this renegade had relations + with a wild-beast showman as far off as Saxony; and then, how could he + know that I and the children were to pass through Leipsic? It is + impossible, my good man.” + </p> + <p> + “In fact, sir,” resumed Adrienne, “I fear that you are + deceived by your dislike (a very legitimate one) of Abbe d’Aigrigny, + and that you ascribe to him an almost fabulous degree of power and extent + of influence.” + </p> + <p> + After a moment’s silence, during which Rodin looked first at + Adrienne and then at Dagobert, with a kind of pity, he resumed. “How + could the Abbe d’Aigrigny have your cross in his possession, if he + had no connection with Morok?” + </p> + <p> + “That is true, sir,” said Dagobert; “joy prevented me + from reflecting. But how indeed, did my cross come into your hands?” + </p> + <p> + “By means of the Abbe d’Aigrigny’s having precisely + those relations with Leipsic, of which you and the young lady seem to + doubt.” + </p> + <p> + “But how did my cross get to Paris?” + </p> + <p> + “Tell me; you were arrested at Leipsic for want of papers—is + it not so?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; but I could never understand how my passports and money + disappeared from my knapsack. I thought I must have had the misfortune to + lose them.” + </p> + <p> + Rodin shrugged his shoulders, and replied: “You were robbed of them + at the White Falcon Inn, by Goliath, one of Morok’s servants, and + the latter sent the papers and the cross to the Abbe d’Aigrigny, to + prove that he had succeeded in executing his orders with respect to the + orphans and yourself. It was the day before yesterday, that I obtained the + key of that dark machination. Cross and papers were amongst the stores of + Abbe d’Aigrigny; the papers formed a considerable bundle, and he + might have missed them; but, hoping to see you this morning, and knowing + how a soldier of the Empire values his cross, his sacred relic, as you + call it, my good friend—I did not hesitate. I put the relic into my + pocket. ‘After all,’ said I, ‘it is only restitution, + and my delicacy perhaps exaggerates this breach of trust.’” + </p> + <p> + “You could not have done a better action,” said Adrienne; + “and, for my part, because of the interest I feel for M. Dagobert—I + take it as a personal favor. But, sir,” after a moment’s + silence, she resumed with anxiety: “What terrible power must be at + the command of M. d’Aigrigny, for him to have such extensive and + formidable relations in a foreign country!” + </p> + <p> + “Silence!” said Rodin, in a low voice, and looking round him + with an air of alarm. “Silence! In heaven’s name do not ask me + about it!” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0091" id="link2HCH0091"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXXVIII. REVELATIONS. + </h2> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">M</span>dlle. de + Cardoville, much astonished at the alarm displayed by Rodin, when she had + asked him for some explanation of the formidable and far reaching power of + the Abby d’Aigrigny, said to him: “Why, sir, what is there so + strange in the question that I have just asked you?” + </p> + <p> + After a moment’s silence, Rodin cast his looks all around, with well + feigned uneasiness, and replied in a whisper: “Once more, madame, do + not question me on so fearful a subject. The walls of this house may have + ears.” + </p> + <p> + Adrienne and Dagobert looked at each other with growing surprise. Mother + Bunch, by an instinct of incredible force, continued to regard Rodin with + invincible suspicion. Sometimes she stole a glance at him, as if trying to + penetrate the mask of this man, who filled her with fear. At one moment, + the Jesuit encountered her anxious gaze, obstinately fixed upon him; + immediately he nodded to her with the greatest amenity. The young girl, + alarmed at finding herself observed, turned away with a shudder. + </p> + <p> + “No, no, my dear young lady,” resumed Rodin, with a sigh, as + he saw Mdlle. de Cardoville astonished at his silence; “do not + question me on the subject of the Abbe d’Aigrigny’s power!” + </p> + <p> + “But, to persist, sir,” said Adrienne; “why this + hesitation to answer? What do you fear?” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, my dear young lady,” said Rodin, shuddering, “those + people are so powerful! their animosity is so terrible!” + </p> + <p> + “Be satisfied, sir; I owe you too much, for my support ever to fail + you.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, my dear young lady,” cried Rodin, as if hurt by the + supposition; “think better of me, I entreat you. Is it for myself + that I fear?—No, no; I am too obscure, too inoffensive; but it is + for you, for Marshal Simon, for the other members of your family, that all + is to be feared. Oh, my dear young lady! let me beg you to ask no + questions. There are secrets which are fatal to those who possess them.” + </p> + <p> + “But, sir, is it not better to know the perils with which one is + threatened?” + </p> + <p> + “When you know the manoeuvres of your enemy, you may at least defend + yourself,” said Dagobert. “I prefer an attack in broad + daylight to an ambuscade.” + </p> + <p> + “And I assure you,” resumed Adrienne, “the few words you + have spoken cause me a vague uneasiness.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, if I must, my dear young lady,” replied the Jesuit, + appearing to make a great effort, “since you do not understand my + hints, I will be more explicit; but remember,” added he, in a deeply + serious tone, “that you have persevered in forcing me to tell you + what you had perhaps better not have known.” + </p> + <p> + “Speak, Sir, I pray you speak,” said Adrienne. + </p> + <p> + Drawing about him Adrienne, Dagobert, and Mother Bunch, Rodin said to them + in a low voce, and with a mysterious air: “Have you never heard of a + powerful association, which extends its net over all the earth, and counts + its disciples, agents, and fanatics in every class of society which has + had, and often has still, the ear of kings and nobles—which, in a + word, can raise its creatures to the highest positions, and with a word + can reduce them again to the nothingness from which it alone could uplift + them?” + </p> + <p> + “Good heaven, sir!” said Adrienne, “what formidable + association? Until now I never heard of it.” + </p> + <p> + “I believe you; and yet your ignorance on this subject greatly + astonishes me, my dear young lady.” + </p> + <p> + “And why should it astonish you?” + </p> + <p> + “Because you lived some time with your aunt, and must have often + seen the Abbe d’Aigrigny.” + </p> + <p> + “I lived at the princess’s, but not with her; for a thousand + reasons she had inspired me with warrantable aversion.” + </p> + <p> + “In truth, my dear young lady, my remark was ill-judged. It was + there, above all, and particularly in your presence, that they would keep + silence with regard to this association—and yet to it alone did the + Princess de Saint-Dizier owe her formidable influence in the world, during + the last reign. Well, then; know this—it is the aid of that + association which renders the Abbe d’Aigrigny so dangerous a man. + </p> + <p> + “By it he was enabled to follow and to reach divers members of your + family, some in Siberia, some in India, others on the heights of the + American mountains; but, as I have told you, it was only the day before + yesterday, and by chance, that, examining the papers of Abbe d’Aigrigny, + I found the trace of his connection with this Company, of which he is the + most active and able chief.” + </p> + <p> + “But the name, sir, the name of this Company?” said Adrienne. + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:65%;"> + <img src="images/20367m.jpg" alt="20367m” width=" /><br /> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/20367.jpg"><i>Original</i></a> + </h5> + <p> + “Well! it is—” but Rodin stopped short. + </p> + <p> + “It is,” repeated Adrienne, who was now as much interested as + Dagobert and the sempstress; “it is—” + </p> + <p> + Rodin looked round him, beckoned all the actors in this scene to draw + nearer, and said in a whisper, laying great stress upon the words: “It + is—the Society of Jesus!” and he again shuddered. + </p> + <p> + “The Jesuits!” cried Mdlle. de Cardoville, unable to restrain + a burst of laughter, which was the more buoyant, as, from the mysterious + precautions of Rodin, she had expected some very different revelation. + “The Jesuits!” she resumed, still laughing. “They have + no existence, except in books; they are frightful historical personages, + certainly; but why should you put forward Madame de Saint-Dizier and M. d’Aigrigny + in that character? Such as they are, they have done quite enough to + justify my aversion and disdain.” + </p> + <p> + After listening in silence to Mdlle. de Cardoville Rodin continued, with a + grave and agitated air: “Your blindness frightens me, my dear, young + lady; the past should have given you some anxiety for the future, since, + more than any one, you have already suffered from the fatal influence of + this Company, whose existence you regard as a dream!” + </p> + <p> + “I, sir?” said Adrienne, with a smile, although a little + surprised. + </p> + <p> + “You.” + </p> + <p> + “Under what circumstances?” + </p> + <p> + “You ask me this question! my dear young lady! you ask me this + question!—and yet you have been confined here as a mad person! Is it + not enough to tell you that the master of this house is one of the most + devoted lay members of the Company, and therefore the blind instrument of + the Abbe d’Aigrigny?” + </p> + <p> + “So,” said Adrienne, this time without smiling, “Dr. + Baleinier” + </p> + <p> + “Obeyed the Abbe d’Aigrigny, the most formidable chief of that + formidable society. He employs his genius for evil; but I must confess he + is a man of genius. Therefore, it is upon him that you and yours must fix + all your doubts and suspicions; it is against him that you must be upon + your guard. For, believe me, I know him, and he does not look upon the + game as lost. You must be prepared for new attacks, doubtless of another + kind, but only the more dangerous on that account—” + </p> + <p> + “Luckily, you give us notice,” said Dagobert, “and you + will be on our side.” + </p> + <p> + “I can do very little, my good friends; but that little is at the + service of honest people,” said Rodin. + </p> + <p> + “Now,” said Adrienne, with a thoughtful air, completely + persuaded by Rodin’s air of conviction, “I can explain the + inconceivable influence that my aunt exercised in the world. I ascribed it + chiefly to her relations with persons in power; I thought that she, like + the Abbe d’Aigrigny, was concerned in dark intrigues, for which + religion served as a veil—but I was far from believing what you tell + me.” + </p> + <p> + “How many things you have got to learn!” resumed Rodin. + “If you knew, my dear young lady, with what art these people + surround you, without your being aware of it, by agents devoted to + themselves! Every one of your steps is known to them, when they have any + interest in such knowledge. Thus, little by little, they act upon you—slowly, + cautiously, darkly. They circumvent you by every possible means, from + flattery to terror—seduce or frighten, in order at last to rule you, + without your being conscious of their authority. Such is their object, and + I must confess they pursue it with detestable ability.” + </p> + <p> + Rodin had spoken with so much sincerity, that Adrienne trembled; then, + reproaching herself with these fears, she resumed: “And yet, no—I + can never believe in so infernal a power; the might of priestly ambition + belongs to another age. Heaven be praised, it has disappeared forever!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, certainly, it is out of sight; for they now know how to + disperse and disappear, when circumstances require it. But then are they + the most dangerous; for suspicion is laid asleep, and they keep watch in + the dark. Oh! my dear young lady, if you knew their frightful ability! In + my hatred of all that is oppressive, cowardly, and hypocritical, I had + studied the history of that terrible society, before I knew that the Abbe + d’Aigrigny belonged to it. Oh! it is dreadful. If you knew what + means they employ! When I tell you that, thanks to their diabolical + devices, the most pure and devoted appearances often conceal the most + horrible snares.” Rodin’s eye rested, as if by chance, on the + hunchback; but, seeing that Adrienne did not take the hint, the Jesuit + continued: “In a word—are you not exposed to their pursuits?—have + they any interest in gaining you over?—oh! from that moment, suspect + all that surround you, suspect the most noble attachments, the most tender + affections, for these monsters sometimes succeed in corrupting your best + friends, and making a terrible use of them, in proportion to the blindness + of your confidence.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! it is impossible,” cried Adrienne, in horror. “You + must exaggerate. No! hell itself never dreamed of more frightful + treachery!” + </p> + <p> + “Alas, my dear young lady! one of your relations, M. Hardy—the + most loyal and generous-hearted man that could be—has been the + victim of some such infamous treachery. Do you know what we learned from + the reading of your ancestor’s will? Why, that he died the victim of + the malevolence of these people; and now, at the lapse of a hundred and + fifty years, his descendants are still exposed to the hate of that + indestructible society.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, sir! it terrifies me,” said Adrienne, feeling her heart + sink within her. “But are there no weapons against such attacks?” + </p> + <p> + “Prudence, my dear young lady—the most watchful caution—the + most incessant study and suspicion of all that approach you.” + </p> + <p> + “But such a life would be frightful! It is a torture to be the + victim of continual suspicions, doubts, and fears.” + </p> + <p> + “Without doubt! They know it well, the wretches! That constitutes + their strength. They often triumph by the very excess of the precautions + taken against them. Thus, my dear young lady, and you, brave and worthy + soldier, in the name of all that is dear to you, be on your guard, and do + not lightly impart your confidence. Be on your guard, for you have nearly + fallen the victims of those people. They will always be your implacable + enemies. And you, also, poor, interesting girl!” added the Jesuit, + speaking to Mother Bunch, “follow my advice—fear these people. + Sleep, as the proverb says, with one eye open.” + </p> + <p> + “I, sir!” said the work-girl. “What have I done? what + have I to fear?” + </p> + <p> + “What have you done? Dear me! Do not you tenderly love this young + lady, your protectress? have you not attempted to assist her? Are you not + the adopted sister of the son of this intrepid soldier, the brave + Agricola! Alas, poor, girl! are not these sufficient claims to their + hatred, in spite of your obscurity? Nay, my dear young lady! do not think + that I exaggerate. Reflect! only reflect! Think what I have just said to + the faithful companion-in-arms of Marshal Simon, with regard to his + imprisonment at Leipsic. Think what happened to yourself, when, against + all law and reason, you were brought hither. Then you will see, that there + is nothing exaggerated in the picture I have drawn of the secret power of + this Company. Be always on your guard, and, in doubtful cases, do not fear + to apply to me. In three days, I have learned enough by my own experience, + with regard to their manner of acting, to be able to point out to you many + a snare, device, and danger, and to protect you from them.” + </p> + <p> + “In any such case, sir,” replied Mdlle. de Cardoville, “my + interests, as well as gratitude, would point to you as my best counsellor.” + </p> + <p> + According to the skillful tactics of the sons of Loyola, who sometimes + deny their own existence, in order to escape from an adversary—and + sometimes proclaim with audacity the living power of their organization, + in order to intimidate the feeble-R-odin had laughed in the face of the + bailiff of Cardoville, when the latter had spoken of the existence of the + Jesuits; while now, at this moment, picturing their means of action, he + endeavored, and he succeeded in the endeavor, to impregnate the mind of + Mdlle. de Cardoville with some germs of doubt, which were gradually to + develop themselves by reflection, and serve hereafter the dark projects + that he meditated. Mother Bunch still felt considerable alarm with regard + to Rodin. Yet, since she had heard the fatal powers of the formidable + Order revealed to Adrienne, the young sempstress, far from suspecting the + Jesuit of having the audacity to speak thus of a society of which he was + himself a member, felt grateful to him, in spite of herself, for the + important advice that he had just given her patroness. The side-glance + which she now cast upon him (which Rodin also detected, for he watched the + young girl with sustained attention), was full of gratitude, mingled with + surprise. Guessing the nature of this impression, and wishing entirely to + remove her unfavorable opinion, and also to anticipate a revelation which + would be made sooner or later, the Jesuit appeared to have forgotten + something of great importance, and exclaimed, striking his forehead: + “What was I thinking of?” Then, speaking to Mother Bunch, he + added: “Do you know where your sister is, my dear girl?” + Disconcerted and saddened by this unexpected question, the workwoman + answered with a blush, for she remembered her last interview with the + brilliant Bacchanal Queen: “I have not seen my sister for some days, + sir.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, my dear girl, she is not very comfortable,” said Rodin; + “I promised one of her friends to send her some little assistance. I + have applied to a charitable person, and that is what I received for her.” + So saying, he drew from his pocket a sealed roll of coin, which he + delivered to Mother Bunch, who was now both surprised and affected. + </p> + <p> + “You have a sister in trouble, and I know nothing of it?” said + Adrienne, hastily. “This is not right of you, my child!” + </p> + <p> + “Do not blame her,” said Rodin. “First of all, she did + not know that her sister was in distress, and, secondly, she could not ask + you, my dear young lady, to interest yourself about her.” + </p> + <p> + As Mdlle. de Cardoville looked at Rodin with astonishment, he added, again + speaking to the hunchback: “Is not that true, my dear girl!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir,” said the sempstress, casting down her eyes and + blushing. Then she added, hastily and anxiously: “But when did you + see my sister, sir? where is she? how did she fall into distress?” + </p> + <p> + “All that would take too long to tell you, my dear girl; but go as + soon as possible to the greengrocer’s in the Rue Clovis, and ask to + speak to your sister as from M. Charlemagne or M. Rodin, which you please, + for I am equally well known in that house by my Christian name as by my + surname, and then you will learn all about it. Only tell your sister, + that, if she behaves well, and keeps to her good resolutions, there are + some who will continue to look after her.” + </p> + <p> + More and more surprised, Mother Bunch was about to answer Rodin, when the + door opened, and M. de Gernande entered. The countenance of the magistrate + was grave and sad. + </p> + <p> + “Marshal Simon’s daughters!” cried Mdlle. de Cardoville. + </p> + <p> + “Unfortunately, they are not with me,” answered the judge. + </p> + <p> + “Then, where are they, sir? What have they done with them? The day + before yesterday, they were in the convent!” cried Dagobert, + overwhelmed by this complete destruction of his hopes. + </p> + <p> + Hardly had the soldier pronounced these words, when, profiting by the + impulse which gathered all the actors in this scene about the magistrate, + Rodin withdrew discreetly towards the door, and disappeared without any + one perceiving his absence. Whilst the soldier, thus suddenly thrown back + to the depths of his despair, looked at M. de Gernande, waiting with + anxiety for the answer, Adrienne said to the magistrate: “But, sir, + when you applied at the convent, what explanation did the superior give on + the subject of these young girls?” + </p> + <p> + “The lady superior refused to give any explanation, madame. ‘You + pretend,’ said she, ‘that the young persons of whom you speak + are detained here against their will. Since the law gives you the right of + entering this house, make your search.’ ‘But, madame, please + to answer me positively,’ said I to the superior; ‘do you + declare, that you know nothing of the young girls, whom I have come to + claim?’ ‘I have nothing to say on this subject, sir. You + assert, that you are authorized to make a search: make it.’ Not + being able to get any other explanation,” continued the magistrate, + “I searched all parts of the convent, and had every door opened—but, + unfortunately, I could find no trace of these young ladies.” + </p> + <p> + “They must have sent them elsewhere,” cried Dagobert; “who + knows?—perhaps, ill. They will kill them—O God! they will kill + them!” cried he, in a heart-rending tone. + </p> + <p> + “After such a refusal, what is to be done? Pray, sir, give us your + advice; you are our providence,” said Adrienne, turning to speak to + Rodin, who she fancied was behind her. “What is your—” + </p> + <p> + Then, perceiving that the Jesuit had suddenly disappeared, she said to + Mother Bunch, with uneasiness: “Where is M. Rodin?” + </p> + <p> + “I do not know, madame,” answered the girl, looking round her; + “he is no longer here.” + </p> + <p> + “It is strange,” said Adrienne, “to disappear so + abruptly!” + </p> + <p> + “I told you he was a traitor!” cried Dagobert, stamping with + rage; “they are all in a plot together.” + </p> + <p> + “No, no,” said Mdlle. de Cardoville; “do not think that. + But the absence is not the less to be regretted, for, under these + difficult circumstances, he might have given us very useful information, + thanks to the position he occupied at M. d’Aigrigny’s.” + </p> + <p> + “I confess, madame, that I rather reckoned upon it,” said M. + de Gernande; “and I returned hither, not only to inform you of the + fruitless result of my search, but also to seek from the upright and + honorable roan, who so courageously unveiled these odious machinations, + the aid of his counsels in this contingency.” + </p> + <p> + Strangely enough, for the last few moments Dagobert was so completely + absorbed in thought, that he paid no attention to the words of the + magistrate, however important to him. He did not even perceive the + departure of M. de Gernande, who retired after promising Adrienne that he + would neglect no means to arrive at the truth, in regard to the + disappearance of the orphans. Uneasy at this silence, wishing to quit the + house immediately, and induce Dagobert to accompany her, Adrienne, after + exchanging a rapid glance with Mother Bunch, was advancing towards the + soldier, when hasty steps were heard from without the chamber, and a manly + sonorous voice, exclaiming with impatience, “Where is he—where + is he?” + </p> + <p> + At the sound of this voice, Dagobert seemed to rouse himself with a start, + made a sudden bound, and with a loud cry, rushed towards the door. It + opened. Marshal Simon appeared on the threshold! + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0092" id="link2HCH0092"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXXIX. PIERRE SIMON. + </h2> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">M</span>arshal Pierre + Simon, Duke de Ligny, was a man of tall stature, plainly dressed in a blue + frock-coat, buttoned up to the throat, with a red ribbon tied to the top + buttonhole. You could not have wished to see a more frank, honest, and + chivalrous cast of countenance than the marshal’s. He had a broad + forehead, an aquiline nose, a well formed chin, and a complexion bronzed + by exposure to the Indian sun. His hair, cut very short, was inclined to + gray about the temples; but his eyebrows were still as black as his large, + hanging moustache. His walk was free and bold, and his decided movements + showed his military impetuosity. A man of the people, a man of war and + action, the frank cordiality of his address invited friendliness and + sympathy. As enlightened as he was intrepid as generous as he was sincere, + his manly, plebeian pride was the most remarkable part of his character. + As others are proud of their high birth, so was he of his obscure origin, + because it was ennobled by the fine qualities of his father, the rigid + republican, the intelligent and laborious artisan, who, for the space of + forty years, had been the example and the glory of his fellow-workmen. In + accepting with gratitude the aristocratic title which the Emperor had + bestowed upon him, Pierre Simon acted with that delicacy which receives + from a friendly hand a perfectly useless gift, and estimates it according + to the intention of the giver. The religious veneration of Pierre Simon + for the Emperor had never been blind; in proportion as his devotion and + love for his idol were instructive and necessary, his admiration was + serious, and founded upon reason. Far from resembling those swashbucklers + who love fighting for its own sake, Marshal Simon not only admired his + hero as the greatest captain in the world, but he admired him, above all, + because he knew that the Emperor had only accepted war in the hope of one + day being able to dictate universal peace; for if peace obtained by glory + and strength is great, fruitful, and magnificent, peace yielded by + weakness and cowardice is sterile, disastrous, and dishonoring. The son of + a workman, Pierre Simon still further admired the Emperor, because that + imperial parvenu had always known how to make that popular heart beat + nobly, and, remembering the people, from the masses of whom he first + arose, had invited them fraternally to share in regal and aristocratic + pomp. + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:65%;"> + <img src="images/20375m.jpg" alt="20375m” width=" /><br /> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/20375.jpg"><i>Original</i></a> + </h5> + <p> + When Marshal Simon entered the room, his countenance was much agitated. At + sight of Dagobert, a flash of joy illumined his features; he rushed + towards the soldier, extending his arms, and exclaimed, “My friend! + my old friend!” + </p> + <p> + Dagobert answered this affectionate salute with silent emotion. Then the + marshal, disengaging himself from his arms, and fixing his moist eyes upon + him, said to him in so agitated a voice that his lips trembled, “Well, + didst arrive in time for the 13th of February?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, general; but everything is postponed for four months.” + </p> + <p> + “And—my wife?—my child?” At this question Dagobert + shuddered, hung down his head, and was silent. + </p> + <p> + “They are not, then, here?” asked Simon, with more surprise + than uneasiness. “They told me they were not at your house, but that + I should find you here—and I came immediately. Are they not with + you?” + </p> + <p> + “General,” said Dagobert, becoming deadly pale; “general—” + Drying the drops of cold sweat that stood upon his forehead, he was unable + to articulate a word, for his voice was checked in his parched throat. + </p> + <p> + “You frighten me!” exclaimed Pierre Simon, becoming pale as + the soldier, and seizing him by the arm. + </p> + <p> + At this, Adrienne advanced, with a countenance full of grief and sympathy; + seeing the cruel embarrassment of Dagobert, she wished to come to his + assistance, and she said to Pierre Simon, in a mild but agitated voice, + “Marshal, I am Mdlle. de Cardoville—a relation of your dear + children.” + </p> + <p> + Pierre Simon turned around suddenly, as much struck with the dazzling + beauty of Adrienne as with the words she had just pronounced. He stammered + out in his surprise, “You, madame—a relation—of my + children!” + </p> + <p> + He laid a stress on the last words, and looked at Dagobert in a kind of + stupor. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, marshal your children,” hastily replied Adrienne; + “and the love of those charming twin sisters—” + </p> + <p> + “Twin sisters!” cried Pierre Simon, interrupting Mdlle. de + Cardoville, with an outburst of joy impossible to describe. “Two + daughters instead of one! Oh! what happiness for their mother! Pardon me, + madame, for being so impolite,” he continued; “and so little + grateful for what you tell me. But you will understand it; I have been + seventeen years without seeing my wife; I come, and I find three loved + beings, instead of two. Thanks, madame: would I could express all the + gratitude I owe you! You are our relation; this is no doubt your house; my + wife and children are with you. Is it so? You think that my sudden + appearance might be prejudicial to them? I will wait—but madame, + you, that I am certain are good as fair—pity my impatience—will + make haste to prepare them to receive me—” + </p> + <p> + More and more agitated, Dagobert avoided the marshal’s gaze, and + trembled like a leaf. Adrienne cast down her eyes without answering. Her + heart sunk within her, at thought of dealing the terrible blow to Marshal + Simon. + </p> + <p> + The latter, astonished at this silence, looking at Adrienne, then at the + soldier, became first uneasy, and at last alarmed. “Dagobert!” + he exclaimed, “something is concealed from me!” + </p> + <p> + “General!” stammered the soldier, “I assure you—I—I—.” + </p> + <p> + “Madame!” cried Pierre Simon, “I conjure you, in pity, + speak to me frankly!—my anxiety is horrible. My first fears return + upon me. What is it? Are my wife and daughters ill? Are they in danger? + Oh! speak! speak!” + </p> + <p> + “Your daughters, marshal,” said Adrienne “have been + rather unwell, since their long journey—but they are in no danger.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, heaven! it is my wife!” + </p> + <p> + “Have courage, sir!” said Mdlle. de Cardoville, sadly. “Alas! + you must seek consolation in the affection of the two angels that remain + to you.” + </p> + <p> + “General!” said Dagobert, in a firm grave tone, “I + returned from Siberia—alone with your two daughters.” + </p> + <p> + “And their mother! their mother!” cried Simon, in a voice of + despair. + </p> + <p> + “I set out with the two orphans the day after her death,” said + the soldier. + </p> + <p> + “Dead?” exclaimed Pierre Simon, overwhelmed by the stroke; + “dead?” A mournful silence was the only answer. The marshal + staggered beneath this unexpected shock, leaned on the back of a chair for + support, and then, sinking into the seat, concealed his face with his + hands. For same minutes nothing was heard but stifled sobs, for not only + had Pierre Simon idolized his wife, but by one of those singular + compromises, that a man long cruelly tried sometimes makes with destiny, + Pierre Simon, with the fatalism of loving souls, thought he had a right to + reckon upon happiness after so many years of suffering, and had not for a + moment doubted that he should find his wife and child—a double + consolation reserved to him after going through so much. Very different + from certain people, whom the habit of misfortune renders less exacting, + Simon had reckoned upon happiness as complete as had been his misery. His + wife and child were the sole, indispensable conditions of this felicity, + and, had the mother survived her daughters, she would have no more + replaced them in his eyes than they did her. Weakness or avarice of the + heart, so it was; we insist upon this singularity, because the + consequences of these incessant and painful regrets exercised a great + influence on the future life of Marshal Simon. Adrienne and Dagobert had + respected the overwhelming grief of this unfortunate man. When he had + given a free course to his tears, he raised his manly countenance, now of + marble paleness, drew his hand across his blood-shot eyes, rose, and said + to Adrienne, “Pardon me, madame; I could not conquer my first + emotion. Permit me to retire. I have cruel details to ask of the worthy + friend who only quitted my wife at the last moment. Have the kindness to + let me see my children—my poor orphans!—” And the + marshal’s voice again broke. + </p> + <p> + “Marshal,” said Mdlle. de Cardoville, “just now we were + expecting your dear children: unfortunately, we have been deceived in our + hopes.” Pierre Simon first looked at Adrienne without answering, as + if he had not heard or understood.—“But console yourself,” + resumed the young girl; “we have yet no reason to despair.” + </p> + <p> + “To despair?” repeated the marshaling by turns at Mdlle. de + Cardoville despair?—“of what, in heaven’s name?” + </p> + <p> + “Of seeing your children, marshal,” said Adrienne; “the + presence of their father will facilitate the search.” + </p> + <p> + “The search!” cried Pierre Simon. “Then, my daughters + are not here?” + </p> + <p> + “No, sir,” said Adrienne, at length; “they have been + taken from the affectionate care of the excellent man who brought them + from Russia, to be removed to a convent.” + </p> + <p> + “Wretch!” cried Pierre Simon, advancing towards Dagobert, with + a menacing and terrible aspect; “you shall answer to me for all!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, sir, do not blame him!” cried Mdlle. de Cardoville. + </p> + <p> + “General,” said Dagobert, in a tone of mournful resignation, + “I merit your anger. It is my fault. Forced to absent myself from + Paris, I entrusted the children to my wife; her confessor turned her head, + and persuaded her that your daughters would be better in a convent than at + our house. She believed him, and let them be conveyed there. Now they say + at the convent, that they do not know where they are. This is the truth: + do what you will with me; I have only to silently endure.” + </p> + <p> + “This is infamous!” cried Pierre Simon, pointing to Dagobert, + with a gesture of despairing indignation. “In whom can a man + confide, if he has deceived me? Oh, my God!” + </p> + <p> + “Stay, marshal! do not blame him,” repeated Mdlle. de + Cardoville; “do not think so! He has risked life and honor to rescue + your children from the convent. He is not the only one who has failed in + this attempt. Just now, a magistrate—despite his character and + authority—was not more successful. His firmness towards the + superior, his minute search of the convent, were all in vain. Up to this + time it has been impossible to find these unfortunate children.” + </p> + <p> + “But where’s this convent!” cried Marshal Simon, raising + his head, his face all pale and agitated with grief and rage. “Where + is it? Do these vermin know what a father is, deprived of his children?” + At the moment when Marshal Simon, turning towards Dagobert, pronounced + these words, Rodin, holding Rose and Blanche by the hand, appeared at the + open door of the chamber. On hearing the marshal’s exclamation, he + started with surprise, and a flash of diabolical joy lit up his grim + countenance—for he had not expected to meet Pierre Simon so + opportunely. + </p> + <p> + Mdlle. de Cardoville was the first to perceive the presence of Rodin. She + exclaimed, as she hastened towards him: “Oh! I was not deceived. He + is still our providence.” + </p> + <p> + “My poor children!” said Rodin, in a low voice, to the young + girls, as he pointed to Pierre Simon, “this is your father!” + </p> + <p> + “Sir!” cried Adrienne, following close upon Rose and Blanche. + “Your children are here!” + </p> + <p> + As Simon turned round abruptly, his two daughters threw themselves into + his arms. Here was a long silence, broken only by sobs, and kisses, and + exclamations of joy. + </p> + <p> + “Come forward, at least, and enjoy the good you have done!” + said Mdlle. de Cardoville, drying her eyes, and turning towards Rodin, + who, leaning against the door, seemed to contemplate this scene with deep + emotion. + </p> + <p> + Dagobert, at sight of Rodin bringing back the children, was at first + struck with stupor, and unable to move a step; but hearing the words of + Adrienne, and yielding to a burst of almost insane gratitude, he threw + himself on his knees before the Jesuit, joined his hands together, and + exclaimed in a broken voice: “You have saved me, by bringing back + these children.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, bless you, sir!” said Mother Bunch, yielding to the + general current. + </p> + <p> + “My good friends, this is too much,” said Rodin, as if his + emotions were beyond his strength; “this is really too much for me. + Excuse me to the marshal, and tell him that I am repaid by the sight of + his happiness.” + </p> + <p> + “Pray, sir,” said Adrienne, “let the marshal at least + have the opportunity to see and know you.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, remain! you that have saved us all!” cried Dagobert, + trying to stop Rodin. + </p> + <p> + “Providence, you know, my dear young lady, does not trouble itself + about the good that is done, but the good that remains to do,” said + Rodin, with an accent of playful kindness. “Must I not think of + Prince Djalma? My task is not finished, and moments are precious. Come,” + he added, disengaging himself gently from Dagobert’s hold, “come + the day has been as good a one as I had hoped.. The Abbe d’Aigrigny + is unmasked; you are free, my dear young lady; you have recovered your + cross, my brave soldier; Mother Bunch is sure of a protectress; the + marshal has found his children. I have my share in all these joys, it is a + full share—my heart is satisfied. Adieu, my friends, till we meet + again.” So saying, Rodin waved his hand affectionately to Adrienne, + Dagobert, and the hunchback, and withdrew, waving his hand with a look of + delight on Marshal Simon, who, seated between his daughters, held them in + his arms, and covered them with tears and kisses, remaining quite + indifferent to all that was passing around him. + </p> + <p> + An hour after this scene, Mdlle. de Cardoville and the sempstress, Marshal + Simon, his two daughters and Dagobert quitted Dr. Beleinier’s + asylum. + </p> + <p> + In terminating this episode, a few words by way of moral, with regard to + lunatic asylums and convents may not be out of place. We have said, and we + repeat, that the laws which apply to the superintendence of lunatic + asylums appear to us insufficient. Facts that have recently transpired + before the courts, and other facts that have been privately communicated + to us, evidently prove this insufficiency. Doubtless, magistrates have + full power to visit lunatic asylums. They are even required to make such + visits. But we know, from the best authority, that the numerous and + pressing occupations of magistrates, whose number is often out of + proportion with the labor imposed upon them, render these inspections so + rare, that they are, so to speak, illusory. It appears, therefore, to us + advisable to institute a system of inspections, at least twice a month, + especially designed for lunatic asylums, and entrusted to a physician and + a magistrate, so that every complaint may be submitted to a double + examination. Doubtless, the law is sufficient when its ministers are fully + informed; but how many formalities, how many difficulties must be gone + through, before they can be so, particularly when the unfortunate creature + who needs their assistance, already suspected, isolated, and imprisoned, + has no friend to come forward in defence, and demand, in his or her name, + the protection of the authorities! Is it not imperative, therefore, on the + civil power, to meet these necessities by a periodical and well-organized + system of inspection? + </p> + <p> + What we here say of lunatic asylums will apply with still greater force to + convents for women, seminaries, and houses inhabited by religious bodies. + Recent and notorious facts, with which all France has rung, have, + unfortunately, proved that violence, forcible detention, barbarous usage, + abduction of minors, and illegal imprisonment, accompanied by torture, are + occurrences which, if not frequent, are at least possible in religious + houses. It required singular accidents, audacious and cynical brutalities; + to bring these detestable actions to public knowledge. How many other + victims have been, and, perhaps still are, entombed in those large silent + mansions, where no profane look may penetrate, and which, through the + privileges of the clergy, escape the superintendence of the civil power. + Is it not deplorable that these dwellings should not also be subject to + periodical inspection, by visitors consisting, if it be desired, of a + priest, a magistrate, and some delegate of the municipal authorities? If + nothing takes place, but what is legal, human, and charitable, in these + establishments, which have all the character, and incur all the + responsibility, of public institutions, why this resistance, this furious + indignation of the church party, when any mention is made of touching what + they call their privileges? There is something higher than the + constitutions devised at Rome. We mean the Law of France—the common + law—which grants to all protection, but which, in return, exacts + from all respect and obedience. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0106" id="link2H_4_0106"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + BOOK VII. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + XL. The East Indian in Paris XLI. Rising XLII. Doubts XLIII. + The Letter XLIV. Adrienne and Djalma XLV. The Consultation + XLVI. Mother Bunch’s Diary XLVII. The Diary Continued + XLVIII. The Discovery XLIX. The Trysting-Place of the Wolves + L. The Common Dwelling-House LI. The Secret LII. Revelations +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0093" id="link2HCH0093"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XL. THE EAST INDIAN IN PARIS. + </h2> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">S</span>ince three days, + Mdlle. de Cardoville had left Dr. Baleinier’s. The following scene + took place in a little dwelling in the Rue Blanche, to which Djalma had + been conducted in the name of his unknown protector. Fancy to yourself a + pretty, circular apartment, hung with Indian drapery, with purple figures + on a gray ground, just relieved by a few threads of gold. The ceiling, + towards the centre, is concealed by similar hangings, tied together by a + thick, silken cord; the two ends of this cord, unequal in length, + terminated, instead of tassels, in two tiny Indian lamps of gold + filigreed-work, marvellously finished. By one of those ingenious + combinations, so common in barbarous countries, these lamps served also to + burn perfumes. Plates of blue crystal, let in between the openings of the + arabesque, and illumined by the interior light, shone with so limpid an + azure, that the golden lamps seemed starred with transparent sapphires. + Light clouds, of whitish vapor rose incessantly from these lamps, and + spread all around their balmy odor. + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:65%;"> + <img src="images/20383m.jpg" alt="20383m” width=" /><br /> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/20383.jpg"><i>Original</i></a> + </h5> + <p> + Daylight was only admitted to this room (it was about two o’clock in + the afternoon) through a little greenhouse, on the other side of a door of + plate-glass, made to slide into the thickness of the wall, by means of a + groove. A Chinese shade was arranged so as to hide or replace this glass + at pleasure. Some dwarf palm tress, plantains, and other Indian + productions, with thick leaves of a metallic green, arranged in clusters + in this conservatory, formed, as it were, the background to two large + variegated bushes of exotic flowers, which were separated by a narrow + path, paved with yellow and blue Japanese tiles, running to the foot of + the glass. The daylight, already much dimmed by the leaves through which + it passed, took a hue of singular mildness as it mingled with the azure + lustre of the perfumed lamps, and the crimson brightness of the fire in + the tall chimney of oriental porphyry. In the obscurity of this apartment, + impregnated with sweet odors and the aromatic vapor of Persian tobacco, a + man with brown, hanging locks, dressed in a long robe of dark green, + fastened round the waist by a parti-colored sash, was kneeling upon a + magnificent Turkey carpet, filling the golden bowl of a hookah; the long, + flexible tube of this pipe, after rolling its folds upon the carpet, like + a scarlet serpent with silver scales, rested between the slender fingers + of Djalma, who was reclining negligently on a divan. The young prince was + bareheaded; his jet-black hair, parted on the middle of his forehead, + streamed waving about his face and neck of antique beauty—their warm + transparent colors resembling amber or topaz. Leaning his elbow on a + cushion, he supported his chin with the palm of his right hand. The + flowing sleeve of his robe, falling back from his arm, which was round as + that of a woman, revealed mysterious signs formerly tattooed there in + India by a Thug’s needle. The son of Radja-sing held in his left + hand the amber mouthpiece of his pipe. His robe of magnificent cashmere, + with a border of a thousand hues, reaching to his knee, was fastened about + his slim and well-formed figure by the large folds of an orange-colored + shawl. This robe was half withdrawn from one of the elegant legs of this + Asiatic Antinous, clad in a kind of very close fitting gaiter of crimson + velvet, embroidered with silver, and terminating in a small white morocco + slipper, with a scarlet heel. At once mild and manly, the countenance of + Djalma was expressive of that melancholy and contemplative calmness + habitual to the Indian and the Arab, who possess the happy privilege of + uniting, by a rare combination, the meditative indolence of the dreamer + with the fiery energy of the man of action—now delicate, nervous, + impressionable as women—now determined, ferocious, and sanguinary as + bandits. + </p> + <p> + And this semi-feminine comparison, applicable to the moral nature of the + Arab and the Indian, so long as they are not carried away by the ardor of + battle and the excitement of carnage, is almost equally applicable to + their physical constitution; for if, like women of good blood, they have + small extremities, slender limbs, fine and supple forms, this delicate and + often charming exterior always covers muscles of steel, full of an + elasticity, and vigor truly masculine. Djalma’s oblong eyes, like + black diamonds set in bluish mother-of-pearl, wandered mechanically from + the exotic flowers to the ceiling; from time to time he raised the amber + mouthpiece of the hookah to his lips; then, after a slow aspiration, half + opening his rosy lips, strongly contrasted with the shining enamel of his + teeth, he sent forth a little spiral line of smoke, freshly scented by the + rose-water through which it had passed. + </p> + <p> + “Shall I put more tobacco in the hookah?” said the kneeling + figure, turning towards Djalma, and revealing the marked and sinister + features of Faringhea the Strangler. + </p> + <p> + The young prince remained dumb, either that, from an oriental contempt for + certain races, he disdained to answer the half-caste, or that, absorbed in + his reverie, he did not even hear him. The Strangler became again silent; + crouching cross-legged upon the carpet, with his elbows resting on his + knees, and his chin upon his hands, he kept his eyes fixed on Djalma, and + seemed to await the reply or the orders of him whose sire had been + surnamed the Father of the Generous. How had Faringhea, the sanguinary + worshipper of Bowanee, the Divinity of Murder, been brought to seek or to + accept such humble functions? How came this man, possessed of no vulgar + talents, whose passionate eloquence and ferocious energy had recruited + many assassins for the service of the Good Work, to resign himself to so + base a condition? Why, too, had this man, who, profiting by the young + prince’s blindness with regard to himself, might have so easily + sacrificed him as an offering to Bowanee—why had he spared the life + of Radja-sings son? Why, in fine, did he expose himself to such frequent + encounters with Rodin, whom he had only known under the most unfavorable + auspices? The sequel of this story will answer all these questions. We can + only say at present, that, after a long interview with Rodin, two nights + before, the Thug had quitted him with downcast eyes and cautious bearing. + </p> + <p> + After having remained silent for some time, Djalma, following with his eye + the cloud of whitish smoke that he had just sent forth into space, + addressed Faringhea, without looking at him, and said to him in the + language, as hyperbolical as concise, of Orientals: “Time passes. + The old man with the good heart does not come. But he will come. His word + is his word.” + </p> + <p> + “His word is his word, my lord,” repeated Faringhea, in an + affirmative tone. “When he came to fetch you, three days ago, from + the house whither those wretches, in furtherance of their wicked designs, + had conveyed you in a deep sleep—after throwing me, your watchful + and devoted servant, into a similar state—he said to you: ‘The + unknown friend, who sent for you to Cardoville Castle, bids me come to + you, prince. Have confidence, and follow me. A worthy abode is prepared + for you.’—And again, he said to you, my lord: ‘Consent + not to leave the house, until my return. Your interest requires it. In + three days you will see me again, and then be restored to perfect freedom.’ + You consented to those terms, my lord, and for three days you have not + left the house.” + </p> + <p> + “And I wait for the old man with impatience,” said Djalma, + “for this solitude is heavy with me. There must be so many things to + admire in Paris. Above all.” + </p> + <p> + Djalma did not finish the sentence, but relapsed into a reverie. After + some moments’ silence, the son of Radja-sing said suddenly to + Faringhea, in the tone of an impatient yet indolent sultan: “Speak + to me!” + </p> + <p> + “Of what shall I speak, my lord?” + </p> + <p> + “Of what you will,” said Djalma, with careless contempt, as he + fixed on the ceiling his eyes, half-veiled with languor. “One + thought pursues me—I wish to be diverted from it. Speak to me.” + </p> + <p> + Faringhea threw a piercing glance on the countenance of the young Indian, + and saw that his cheeks were colored with a slight blush. “My lord,” + said the half-caste, “I can guess your thought.” + </p> + <p> + Djalma shook his head, without looking at the Strangler. The latter + resumed: “You are thinking of the women of Paris, my lord.” + </p> + <p> + “Be silent, slave!” said Djalma, turning abruptly on the sofa, + as if some painful wound had been touched to the quick. Faringhea obeyed. + </p> + <p> + After the lapse of some moments. Djalma broke forth again with impatience, + throwing aside the tube of the hookah, and veiling both eyes with his + hands: “Your words are better than silence. Cursed be my thoughts, + and the spirit which calls up these phantoms!” + </p> + <p> + “Why should you fly these thoughts, my lord? You are nineteen years + of age, and hitherto all your youth has been spent in war and captivity. + Up to this time, you have remained as chaste as Gabriel, that young + Christian priest, who accompanied us on our voyage.” + </p> + <p> + Though Faringhea did not at all depart from his respectful deference for + the prince, the latter felt that there was something of irony in the tone + of the half-caste, as he pronounced the word “chaste.” + </p> + <p> + Djalma said to him with a mixture of pride and severity: “I do not + wish to pass for a barbarian, as they call us, with these civilized + people; therefore I glory in my chastity.” + </p> + <p> + “I do not understand, my lord.” + </p> + <p> + “I may perhaps love some woman, pure as was my mother when she + married my father; and to ask for purity from a woman, a man must be + chaste as she.” + </p> + <p> + At this, Faringhea could not refrain from a sardonic smile. + </p> + <p> + “Why do you laugh, slave?” said the young prince, imperiously. + </p> + <p> + “Among civilized people, as you call them, my lord, the man who + married in the flower of his innocence would be mortally wounded with + ridicule.” + </p> + <p> + “It is false, slave! He would only be ridiculous if he married one + that was not pure as himself.” + </p> + <p> + “Then, my lord, he would not only be wounded—he would be + killed outright, for he would be doubly and unmercifully laughed at.” + </p> + <p> + “It is false! it is false. Where did you learn all this?” + </p> + <p> + “I have seen Parisian women at the Isle of France, and at + Pondicherry, my lord. Moreover, I learned a good deal during our voyage; I + talked with a young officer, while you conversed with the young priest.” + </p> + <p> + “So, like the sultans of our harems, civilized men require of women + the innocence they have themselves lost.” + </p> + <p> + “They require it the more, the less they have of it, my lord.” + </p> + <p> + “To require without any return, is to act as a master to his slave; + by what right?” + </p> + <p> + “By the right of the strongest—as it is among us, my lord.” + </p> + <p> + “And what do the women do?” + </p> + <p> + “They prevent the men from being too ridiculous, when they marry, in + the eyes of the world.” + </p> + <p> + “But they kill a woman that is false?” said Djalma, raising + himself abruptly, and fixing upon Faringhea a savage look, that sparkled + with lurid fire. + </p> + <p> + “They kill her, my lord, as with us—when they find her out.” + </p> + <p> + “Despots like ourselves! Why then do these civilized men not shut up + their women, to force them to a fidelity which they do not practise?” + </p> + <p> + “Because their civilization is barbarous, and their barbarism + civilized, my lord.” + </p> + <p> + “All this is sad enough, if true,” observed Djalma, with a + pensive air, adding, with a species of enthusiasm, employing, as usual, + the mystic and figurative language familiar to the people of his country; + “yes, your talk afflicts me, slave—for two drops of dew + blending in the cup of a flower are as hearts that mingle in a pure and + virgin love; and two rays of light united in one inextinguishable flame, + are as the burning and eternal joys of lovers joined in wedlock.” + </p> + <p> + Djalma spoke of the pure enjoyments of the soul with inexpressible grace, + yet it was when he painted less ideal happiness, that his eyes shone like + stars; he shuddered slightly, his nostrils swelled, the pale gold of his + complexion became vermilion, and the young prince sank into a deep + reverie. + </p> + <p> + Faringhea, having remarked this emotion, thus spoke: “If, like the + proud and brilliant king-bird of our woods, you prefer numerous and varied + pleasures to solitary and monotonous amours—handsome, young, rich as + you are, my lord, were you to seek out the seductive Parisians—voluptuous + phantoms of your nights—charming tormentors of your dreams—were + you to cast upon them looks bold as a challenge, supplicating as prayers, + ardent as desires—do you not think that many a half-veiled eye would + borrow fire from your glance? Then it would no longer be the monotonous + delights of a single love, the heavy chain of our life—no, it would + be the thousand pleasures of the harem—a harem peopled with free and + proud beauties, whom happy love would make your slaves. So long + constrained, there is no such thing as excess to you. Believe me, it would + then be you, the ardent, the magnificent son of our country, that would + become the love and pride of these women—the most seductive in the + world, who would soon have for you no looks but those of languor and + passion.” + </p> + <p> + Djalma had listened to Faringhea with silent eagerness. The expression of + his features had completely changed; it was no longer the melancholy and + dreaming youth, invoking the sacred remembrance of his mother, and finding + only in the dew of heaven, in the calyx of flowers, images sufficiently + pure to paint the chastity of the love he dreamed of; it was no longer + even the young man, blushing with a modest ardor at the thought of the + permitted joys of a legitimate union. No! the incitements of Faringhea had + kindled a subterraneous fire; the inflamed countenance of Djalma, his eyes + now sparkling and now veiled, his manly and sonorous respiration, + announced the heat of his blood, the boiling up of the passions, only the + more energetic, that they had been hitherto restrained. + </p> + <p> + So, springing suddenly from the divan, supple, vigorous, and light as a + young tiger, Djalma clutched Faringhea by the throat exclaiming: “Thy + words are burning poison!” + </p> + <p> + “My lord,” said Faringhea, without opposing the least + resistance, “your slave is your slave.” This submission + disarmed the prince. + </p> + <p> + “My life belongs to you,” repeated the half-caste. + </p> + <p> + “I belong to you, slave!” cried Djalma, repulsing him. “Just + now, I hung upon your lips, devouring your dangerous lies.” + </p> + <p> + “Lies, my lord? Only appear before these women, and their looks will + confirm my words.” + </p> + <p> + “These women love me!—me, who have only lived in war and in + the woods?” + </p> + <p> + “The thought that you, so young, have already waged bloody war on + men and tigers, will make them adore, my lord.” + </p> + <p> + “You lie!” + </p> + <p> + “I tell you, my lord, on seeing your hand, as delicate as theirs, + but which has been so often bathed in hostile blood, they will wish to + caress it; and they will kiss it again, when they think that, in our + forests, with loaded rifle, and a poniard between your teeth, you smiled + at the roaring of a lion or panther for whom you lay in wait.” + </p> + <p> + “But I am a savage—a barbarian.” + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:65%;"> + <img src="images/20389m.jpg" alt="20389m” width=" /><br /> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/20389.jpg"><i>Original</i></a> + </h5> + <p> + “And for that very reason you will have them at your feet. They will + feel themselves both terrified and charmed by all the violence and fury, + the rage of jealousy, the passion and the love, to which a man of your + blood, your youth, your ardor must be subject. To-day mild and tender, + to-morrow fierce and suspicious, another time ardent and passionate, such + you will be—and such you ought to be, if you wish to win them. Yes; + let a kiss of rage be heard between two kisses: let a dagger glitter in + the midst of caresses, and they will fall before you, palpitating with + pleasure, love, and fear—and you will be to them, not a man, but a + god.” + </p> + <p> + “Dost think so?” cried Djalma, carried away in spite of + himself by the Thug’s wild eloquence. + </p> + <p> + “You know, you feel, that I speak the truth,” cried the + latter, extending his arm towards the young Indian. + </p> + <p> + “Why, yes!” exclaimed Djalma, his eyes sparkling, his nostrils + swelling, as he moved about the apartment with savage bounds. “I + know not if I possess my reason, or if I am intoxicated, but it seems to + me that you speak truth. Yes, I feel that they will love me with madness + and fury, because my love will be mad and furious they will tremble with + pleasure and fear, because the very thought of it makes me tremble with + delight and terror. Slave, it is true; there is something exciting and + fearful in such a love!” As he spoke forth these words, Djalma was + superb in his impetuous sensuality. It is a rare thing to see a young man + arrive in his native purity, at the age in which are developed, in all + their powerful energy, those admirable instincts of love, which God has + implanted in the heart of his creatures, and which, repressed, disguised, + or perverted, may unseat the reason, or generate mad excesses and + frightful crimes—but which, directed towards a great and noble + passion, may and must, by their very violence, elevate man, through + devotion and tenderness, to the limits of the ideal. + </p> + <p> + “Oh! this woman—this woman, before whom I am to tremble—and + who, in turn, must tremble before me—where is she?” cried + Djalma, with redoubled excitement. “Shall I ever find her?” + </p> + <p> + “One is a good deal, my lord,” replied Faringhea, with his + sardonic coolness; “he who looks for one woman, will rarely succeed + in this country; he who seeks women, is only at a loss to choose.” + </p> + <p> + As the half-caste made this impertinent answer to Djalma, a very elegant + blue-and-white carriage stopped before the garden-gate of the house, which + opened upon a deserted street. It was drawn by a pair of beautiful + blood-horses, of a cream color, with black manes and tails. The scutcheons + on the harness were of silver, as were also the buttons of the servants’ + livery, which was blue with white collars. On the blue hammercloth, also + laced with white, as well as on the panels of the doors, were + lozenge-shaped coats of arms, without crest or coronet, as usually borne + by unmarried daughters of noble families. Two women were in this carriage—Mdlle. + de Cardoville and Florine. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0094" id="link2HCH0094"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XLI. RISING. + </h2> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>o explain the + arrival of Mdlle. de Cardoville at the garden-door of the house occupied + by Djalma, we must cast a retrospective glance at previous events. On + leaving Doctor Baleinier’s, Mdlle. de Cardoville had gone to take up + her residence in the Rue d’Anjou. During the last few months of her + stay with her aunt, Adrienne had secretly caused this handsome dwelling to + be repaired and furnished, and its luxury and elegance were now increased + by all the wonders of the lodge of Saint-Dizier House. The world found it + very strange, that a lady of the age and condition of Mdlle. de Cardoville + should take the resolution of living completely alone and free, and, in + fact, of keeping house exactly like a bachelor, a young widow, or an + emancipated minor. The world pretended not to know that Mdlle. de + Cardoville possessed what is often wanting in men, whether of age or twice + of age—a firm character, a lofty mind, a generous heart, strong and + vigorous good sense. + </p> + <p> + Judging that she would require faithful assistance in the internal + management of her house, Adrienne had written to the bailiff of + Cardoville, and his wife, old family servants, to come immediately to + Paris: M. Dupont thus filled the office of steward, and Mme. Dupont that + of housekeeper. An old friend of Adrienne’s father, the Count de + Montbron, an accomplished old man, once very much in fashion, and still a + connoisseur in all sorts of elegances, had advised Adrienne to act like a + princess, and take an equerry; recommended for this office a man of good + rearing and ripe age, who, himself an amateur in horses, had been ruined + in England, at Newmarket, the Derby, and Tattersall’s, and reduced, + as sometimes happened to gentlemen in that country, to drive the stage + coaches, thus finding an honest method of earning his bread, and at the + same time gratifying his taste for horses. Such was M. de Bonneville, M. + de Montbron’s choice. Both from age and habits, this equerry could + accompany Mdlle. de Cardoville on horseback, and better than any one else, + superintend the stable. He accepted, therefore, the employment with + gratitude, and, thanks to his skill and attention, the equipages of Mdlle. + de Cardoville were not eclipsed in style by anything of the kind in Paris. + Mdlle. de Cardoville had taken back her women, Hebe, Georgette, and + Florine. The latter was at first to have re-entered the service of the + Princess de Saint-Dizier, to continue her part of spy for the superior of + St. Mary’s Convent; but, in consequence of the new direction given + by Rodin to the Rennepont affair, it was decided that Florine, if + possible, should return to the service of Mdlle. de Cardoville. This + confidential place, enabling this unfortunate creature to render important + and mysterious services to the people who held her fate in their hands, + forced her to infamous treachery. Unfortunately, all things favored this + machination. We know that Florine, in her interview with Mother Bunch, a + few days after Mdlle. de Cardoville was imprisoned at Dr. Baleinier’s, + had yielded to a twinge of remorse, and given to the sempstress advice + likely to be of use to Adrienne’s interests—sending word to + Agricola not to deliver to Madame de Saint Dizier the papers found in the + hiding-place of the pavilion, but only to entrust them to Mdlle. de + Cardoville herself. The latter, afterwards informed of these details by + Mother Bunch, felt a double degree of confidence and interest in Florine, + took her back into her service with gratitude, and almost immediately + charged her with a confidential mission—that of superintending the + arrangements of the house hired for Djalma’s habitation. As for + Mother Bunch (yielding to the solicitations of Mdlle. de Cardoville, and + finding she was no longer of use to Dagobert’s wife, of whom we + shall speak hereafter), she had consented to take up her abode in the + hotel on the Rue d’Anjou, along with Adrienne, who with that rare + sagacity of the heart peculiar to her, entrusted the young sempstress, who + served her also as a secretary, with the department of alms-giving. + </p> + <p> + Mdlle. de Cardoville had at first thought of entertaining her merely as a + friend, wishing to pay homage in her person to probity with labor, + resignation in sorrow, and intelligence in poverty; but knowing the + workgirl’s natural dignity, she feared, with reason that, + notwithstanding the delicate circumspection with which the hospitality + would be offered, Mother Bunch might perceive in it alms in disguise. + Adrienne preferred, therefore, whilst she treated her as a friend, to give + her a confidential employment. In this manner the great delicacy of the + needlewoman would be spared, since she could earn her livelihood by + performing duties which would at the same time satisfy her praiseworthy + instincts of charity. In fact, she could fulfil, better than any one, the + sacred mission confided to her by Adrienne. Her cruel experience in + misfortune, the goodness of her angelic soul, the elevation of her mind, + her rare activity, her penetration with regard to the painful secrets of + poverty, her perfect knowledge of the industrial classes, were sufficient + security for the tact and intelligence with which the excellent creature + would second the generous intentions of Mdlle. de Cardoville. + </p> + <p> + Let us now speak of the divers events which, on that day, preceded the + coming of Mdlle. de Cardoville to the garden-gate of the house in the Rue + Blanche. About ten o’clock in the morning, the blinds of Adrienne’s + bedchamber, closely shut, admitted no ray of daylight to this apartment, + which was only lighted by a spherical lamp of oriental alabaster, + suspended from the ceiling by three long silver chains. This apartment, + terminating in a dome, was in the form of a tent with eight sides. From + the ceiling to the floor, it was hung with white silk, covered with long + draperies of muslin, fastened in large puffs to the wall, by bands caught + in at regular distances by plates of ivory. Two doors, also of ivory, + admirably encrusted with mother-of-pearl, led, one to the bath-room, the + other to the toilet-chamber, a sort of little temple dedicated to the + worship of beauty, and furnished as it had been at the pavilion of Saint + Dizier House. Two other compartments of the wall were occupied by windows, + completely veiled with drapery. Opposite the bed, enclosing splendid + fire-dogs of chased silver, was a chimney-piece of white marble, like + crystallized snow, on which were sculptured two magnificent caryatides, + and a frieze representing birds and flowers. Above this frieze, carved in + openwork with extreme delicacy, was a marble basket, filled with red + camellias. Their leaves of shining green their flowers of a delicate rosy + hue, were the only colors that disturbed the harmonious whiteness of this + virgin retreat. Finally, half surrounded by waves of white muslin, which + poured down from the dome like a mass of light clouds, the bed was visible—very + low, and resting on feet of carved ivory, which stood upon the ermine + carpet that covered the floor. With the exception of a plinth, also in + ivory, admirably inlaid with mother-of-pearl, the bed was entirely covered + with white satin, wadded and quilted like an immense scent-bag. The + cambric sheets, trimmed with lace, being a little disturbed on one side, + discovered the corner of a white taffety mattress, and a light counterpane + of watered stuff—for an equal temperature always reigned in this + apartment, warm as a fine spring day. + </p> + <p> + From a singular scruple, arising from the same sentiment which had caused + Adrienne to have inscribed on a masterpiece of goldsmith’s work the + name of the maker instead of that of the seller, she had wished all these + articles, so costly and sumptuous, to be manufactured by workmen chosen + amongst the most intelligent, honest, and industrious of their class, whom + she had supplied with the necessary materials. In this manner she had been + able to add to the price of the work the profit usually gained by the + middle man, who speculates in such labor; this notable augmentation of + wages had spread happiness and comfort through a hundred necessitous + families, who, blessing the munificence of Adrienne, gave her, as she + said, the right to enjoy her luxury as a good action. Nothing could be + fresher or more charming than the interior of this bedchamber. Mdlle. de + Cardoville had just awoke; she reposed in the middle of this flood of + muslin, lace, cambric, and white silk, in a position full of sweet grace. + Never during the night did she cover that beautiful golden hair (a certain + recipe, said the Greeks, for preserving it for a long while in + magnificence). Every evening, her women arranged her long silky curls in + flat tresses, forming two broad bands, which, descending sufficiently low + almost entirely to conceal the small ear, the rosy lobe of which was alone + visible, were joined to the large plait behind the head. + </p> + <p> + This head-dress, borrowed from Greek antiquity, set off to admiration the + pure, fine features of Mdlle. de Cardoville, and made her look so much + younger, that, instead of eighteen, one would hardly have given her + fifteen years of age. Gathered thus closely about the temples, the hair + lost its transparent and brilliant hues, and would have appeared almost + brown, but for the golden tints which played here and there, amid the + undulations of the tresses. Lulled in that morning torpor, the warm + languor of which is so favorable to soft reveries, Adrienne leaned with + her elbow on the pillow, and her head a little on one side, which + displayed to advantage the ideal contour of her bared neck and shoulders; + her smiling lips, moist and rosy, were, like her cheeks, cold as if they + had just been bathed in ice-water; her snow-white lids half veiled the + large, dark, soft eyes, which now gazed languidly upon vacancy, and now + fixed themselves with pleasure upon the rosy flowers and green leaves in + the basket of camellias. Who can paint the matchless serenity of Adrienne’s + awaking—when the fair and chaste soul roused itself in the fair and + chaste body? It was the awakening of a heart as pure as the fresh and + balmy breath of youth, that made her bosom rise and fall in its white, + immaculate purity. What creed, what dogma, what formula, what religious + symbol, oh! paternal and divine Creator! can ever give a more complete + idea of Thy harmonious and ineffable power, than the image of a young + maiden awaking in the bloom of her beauty, and in all the grace of that + modesty with which Thou hast endowed her, seeking, in her dreamy + innocence, for the secret of that celestial instinct of love, which Thou + hast placed in the bosom of all Thy creatures—oh! Thou whose love is + eternal, and goodness infinite! + </p> + <p> + The confused thoughts which, since her sleep, had appeared gently to + agitate Adrienne, absorbed her more and more; her head resting on her + bosom, her beautiful arm upon the couch, her features without becoming + precisely sad, assumed an expression of touching melancholy. Her dearest + desire was accomplished; she was about to live independent and alone. But + this affectionate, delicate, expansive, and marvellously complete nature, + felt that God had not given her such rare treasures, to bury them in a + cold and selfish solitude. She felt how much that was great and beautiful + might be inspired by love, both in herself, and in him that should be + worthy of her. Confiding in her courage, and the nobleness of her + character, proud of the example that she wished to give to other women, + knowing that all eyes would be fixed enviously upon her, she felt, as it + were, only too sure of herself; far from fearing that she should make a + bad choice, she rather feared, that she should not find any from whom to + choose, so pure and perfect was her taste. And, even had she met with her + own ideal, she had views so singular and so just, so extraordinary and yet + so sensible, with regard to the independence and dignity of woman, that, + inexorably determined to make no concession upon this head, she asked + herself if the man of her choice would ever accept the hitherto unheard-of + conditions that she meant to impose. In recalling to her remembrance the + possible suitors that she had met in the world, she remembered also the + dark, but true picture, which Rodin had drawn with so much caustic + bitterness. She remembered, too, not without a certain pride, the + encouragement this man had given her, not by flattery, but by advising her + to follow out and accomplish a great, generous, and beautiful design. The + current or the caprice of fancy soon brought Adrienne to think of Djalma. + Whilst she congratulated herself on having paid to her royal kinsman the + duties of a kingly hospitality, the young lady was far from regarding the + prince as the hero of her future. + </p> + <p> + And first she said to herself, not unreasonably, that this half-savage + boy, with passions, if not untamable, yet untamed, transported on a sudden + into the midst of a refined civilization, would be inevitably destined to + fiery trials and violent transformations. Now Mdlle. de Cardoville, having + nothing masculine or despotic in her character, had no wish to civilize + the young savage. Therefore, notwithstanding the interest, or rather + because of the interest, which she felt for the young Indian, she was + firmly resolved, not to make herself known to him, till after the lapse of + two or three months; and she determined also, that, even if Djalma should + learn by chance that she was his relation, she would not receive his + visit. She desired, if not to try him, at least to leave him free in all + his acts, so that he might expend the first fire of his passions, good or + bad. But not wishing to abandon him quite without defence to the perils of + Parisian life, she requested the Count de Montbron, in confidence, to + introduce Prince Djalma to the best company in Paris, and to enlighten him + by the counsels of his long experience. M. de Montbron had received the + request of Mdlle. de Cardoville with the greatest pleasure, taking + delight, he said, in starting his royal tiger in drawing-rooms, and + bringing him into contact with the flower of the fine ladies and gentlemen + of Paris, offering at the same time to wager any amount in favor of his + half-savage pupil. + </p> + <p> + “As for myself, my dear Count,” said Adrienne to M. de + Montbron, with her usual frankness, “my resolution is not to be + shaken. You have told me the effect that will be produced in the + fashionable world, by the first appearance of Prince Djalma, an Indian + nineteen years of age, of surprising beauty, proud and wild as a young + lion arriving from his forest; it is new, it is extraordinary, you added; + and, therefore, all the coquetries of civilized life will pursue him with + an eagerness which makes me tremble for him. Now, seriously, my dear count + it will not suit me to appear as the rival of so many fine ladies, who are + about to expose themselves intrepidly to the claws of the young tiger. I + take great interest in him, because he is my cousin, because he is + handsome, because he is brave, and above all because he does not wear that + horrible European dress. No doubt these are rare qualities—but not + sufficient to make me change my mind. Besides, the good old philosopher, + my new friend, has given me advice about this Indian, which you, my dear + Count, who are not a philosopher, will yet approve. It is, for some time, + to receive visits at home, but not to visit other people—which will + spare me the awkwardness of meeting my royal cousin, and allow me to make + a careful choice, even amongst my usual society. As my house will be an + excellent one, my position most unusual, and as I shall be suspected of + all sorts of naughty secrets, I shall be in no want of inquisitive + visitors, who will amuse me a good deal, I assure you.” + </p> + <p> + And as M. de Montbron asked, if the exile of the poor young Indian tiger + was to last long, Adrienne answered: “As I shall see most of the + persons, to whom you will introduce him, I shall be pleased to hear + different opinions about him. If certain men speak well of him, and + certain women ill, I shall have good hope of him. In a word, the opinion + that I come to, in sifting the true from the false (you may leave that to + my sagacity), will shorten or prolong the exile of my royal cousin.” + </p> + <p> + Such were the formal intentions of Mdlle. de Cardoville with regard to + Djalma, even on the day she went with Florine to the house he occupied. In + a word, she had positively resolved not to be known to him for some months + to come. + </p> + <p> + After long reflecting that morning, on the chances that might yet offer + themselves to satisfy the wants of her heart, Adrienne fell into a new, + deep reverie. This charming creature, so full of life and youth, heaved a + low sigh, raised her arms above her head, turned her profile towards the + pillow, and remained for some moments as if powerless and vanquished. + Motionless beneath the white tissues that wrapped her round, she looked + like a fair, marble statue, visible beneath a light layer of snow. + Suddenly, Adrienne raised herself up, drew her hand across her brow, and + rang for her women. At the first silver tone of the bell, the two ivory + doors opened. Georgette appeared on the threshold of the dressing-room, + from which Frisky, a little black and-tan dog, with his golden collar, + escaped with a joyful barking. Hebe appeared at the same time on the + threshold of the bath-room. At the further end of this apartment, lighted + from above, might be seen upon a green mat of Spanish leather, with golden + ornaments, a crystal bath in the form of a long shell. The three only + divisions in this masterpiece of glass work, were concealed by the elegant + device of several large reeds in silver, which rose from the wide base of + the bath, also of wrought silver, representing children and dolphins + playing, among branches of natural coral, and azure shells. Nothing could + be more pleasing than the effect of these purple reeds and ultramarine + shells, upon a dull ground of silver; the balsamic vapor, which rose from + the warm, limpid, and perfumed water, that filled the crystal shell, + spread through the bath-room, and floated like a light cloud into the + sleeping-chamber. + </p> + <p> + Seeing Hebe in her fresh and pretty costume, bringing her a long bathing + gown, hanging upon a bare and dimpled arm, Adrienne said to her: “Where + is Florine, my child?” + </p> + <p> + “Madame, she went downstairs two hours ago; she was wanted for + something very pressing.” + </p> + <p> + “Who wanted her?” + </p> + <p> + “The young person who serves Madame as secretary. She went out this + morning very early; and, as soon as she returned, she sent for Florine, + who has not come back since.” + </p> + <p> + “This absence no doubt relates to some important affair of my + angelic minister of succor,” said Adrienne, smiling, and thinking of + the hunchback. Then she made a sign to Hebe to approach her bed. + </p> + <p> + About two hours after rising, Adrienne, having had herself dressed, as + usual, with rare elegance, dismissed her women, and sent for Mother Bunch, + whom she treated with marked deference, always receiving her alone. The + young sempstress entered hastily, with a pale, agitated countenance, and + said, in a trembling voice: “Oh, madame! my presentiments were + justified. You are betrayed.” + </p> + <p> + “Of what presentiments do you speak, my dear child!” said + Adrienne, with surprise. “Who betrays me?” + </p> + <p> + “M. Rodin!” answered the workgirl. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0095" id="link2HCH0095"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XLII. DOUBTS. + </h2> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">O</span>n hearing the + accusation brought against Rodin, Mdlle. de Cardoville looked at the + denunciator with new astonishment. Before continuing this scene, we may + say that Mother Bunch was no longer clad in her poor, old clothes, but was + dressed in black, with as much simplicity as taste. The sad color seemed + to indicate her renunciation of all human vanity, the eternal mourning of + her heart, and the austere duties imposed upon her by her devotion to + misfortune. With her black gown, she wore a large falling collar, white + and neat as her little gauze cap, with its gray ribbons, which, revealing + her bands of fine brown hair, set off to advantage her pale and melancholy + countenance, with its soft blue eyes. Her long, delicate hands, preserved + from the cold by gloves, were no longer, as formerly, of a violet hue, but + of an almost transparent whiteness. + </p> + <p> + Her agitated features expressed a lively uneasiness. Extremely surprised, + Mdlle. de Cardoville exclaimed: “What do you say?” + </p> + <p> + “M. Rodin betrays you, madame.” + </p> + <p> + “M. Rodin? Impossible!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, madame! my presentiments did not deceive me.” + </p> + <p> + “Your presentiments?” + </p> + <p> + “The first time I saw M. Rodin, I was frightened in spite of myself. + My heart sank within me, and I trembled—for you, madame.” + </p> + <p> + “For me?” said Adrienne. “Why did you not tremble for + yourself, my poor friend?” + </p> + <p> + “I do not know, madame; but such was my first impression. And this + fear was so invincible, that, notwithstanding the kindness that M. Rodin + showed my sister, he frightened me, none the less.” + </p> + <p> + “That is strange. I can understand as well as any one the almost + irresistible influence of sympathies or aversions; but, in this instance—However,” + resumed Adrienne, after a moment’s reflection, “no matter for + that; how have these suspicions been changed to certainty?” + </p> + <p> + “Yesterday, I went to take to my sister Cephyse, the assistance that + M. Rodin had given me, in the name of a charitable person. I did not find + Cephyse at the friend’s who had taken care of her; I therefore + begged the portress, to inform my sister that I would call again this + morning. That is what I did; but you must excuse me, madame, some + necessary details.” + </p> + <p> + “Speak, speak, my dear.” + </p> + <p> + “The young girl who had received my sister,” said Mother + Bunch, with embarrassment, casting down her eyes and blushing, “does + not lead a very regular life. A person, with whom she has gone on several + parties of pleasure, one M. Dumoulin, had informed her of the real name of + M. Rodin, who has a kind of lodging in that house, and there goes by the + name of Charlemagne.” + </p> + <p> + “That is just what he told us at Dr. Baleinier’s; and, the day + before yesterday, when I again alluded to the circumstance, he explained + to me the necessity in which he was, for certain reasons, to have a humble + retreat in that remote quarter—and I could not but approve of his + motives.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, then! yesterday, M. Rodin received a visit from the Abbe d’Aigrigny.” + </p> + <p> + “The Abbe d’Aigrigny!” exclaimed Mdlle. de Cardoville. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, madame; he remained for two hours shut up with M. Rodin.” + </p> + <p> + “My child, you must have been deceived.” + </p> + <p> + “I was told, madame, that the Abbe d’Aigrigny had called in + the morning to see M. Rodin; not finding him at home, he had left with the + portress his name written on a slip of paper, with the words, ‘I + shall return in two hours.’ The girl of whom I spoke, madame, had + seen this slip of paper. As all that concerns M. Rodin appears mysterious + enough, she had the curiosity to wait for M. d’Aigrigny in the + porter’s lodge, and, about two hours afterwards, he indeed returned, + and saw M. Rodin.” + </p> + <p> + “No, no,” said Adrienne, shuddering; “it is impossible. + There must be some mistake.” + </p> + <p> + “I think not, madame; for, knowing how serious such a discovery + would be, I begged the young girl to describe to me the appearance of M. d’Aigrigny.” + </p> + <p> + “Well?” + </p> + <p> + “The Abbe d’Aigrigny, she told me, is about forty years of + age. He is tall and upright, dresses plainly, but with care; has gray + eyes, very large and piercing, thick eyebrows, chestnut-colored hair, a + face closely shaved, and a very decided aspect.” + </p> + <p> + “It is true,” said Adrienne, hardly able to believe what she + heard. “The description is exact.” + </p> + <p> + “Wishing to have all possible details,” resumed Mother Bunch, + “I asked the portress if M. Rodin and the Abbe d’Aigrigny + appeared to be at variance when they quitted the house? She replied no, + but that the Abbe said to M. Rodin, as they parted at the door: ‘I + will write to you tomorrow, as agreed.’” + </p> + <p> + “Is it a dream? Good heaven!” said Adrienne, drawing her hands + across her forehead in a sort of stupor. “I cannot doubt your word, + my poor friend; and yet it is M. Rodin who himself sent you to that house, + to give assistance to your sister: would he have wilfully laid open to you + his secret interviews with the Abbe d’Aigrigny? It would have been + bad policy in a traitor.” + </p> + <p> + “That is true, and the same reflection occurred to me. And yet the + meeting of these two men appeared so dangerous to you, madame, that I + returned home full of terror.” + </p> + <p> + Characters of extreme honesty are very hard to convince of the treachery + of others: the more infamous the deception, the more they are inclined to + doubt it. Adrienne was one of these characters, rectitude being a prime + quality of her mind. Though deeply impressed by the communication, she + remarked: “Come, my dear, do not let us frighten ourselves too soon, + or be over-hasty in believing evil. Let us try to enlighten ourselves by + reasoning, and first of all remember facts. M. Rodin opened for me the + doors of Dr. Baleinier’s asylum; in my presence, he brought, his + charge against the Abbe d’Aigrigny; he forced the superior of the + convent to restore Marshal Simon’s daughters, he succeeded in + discovering the retreat of Prince Djalma—he faithfully executed my + intentions with regard to my young cousin; only yesterday, he gave me the + most useful advice. All this is true—is it not?” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly, madame.” + </p> + <p> + “Now suppose that M. Rodin, putting things in their worst light, had + some after-thought—that he hopes to be liberally rewarded, for + instance; hitherto, at least, he has shown complete disinterestedness.” + </p> + <p> + “That also is true, madame,” said poor Mother Bunch, obliged, + like Adrienne, to admit the evidence of fixed facts. + </p> + <p> + “Now let us look to the possibility of treachery. Unite with the + Abbe d’Aigrigny to betray me! Betray me?—how? and for what + purpose? What have I to fear? Is it not the Abbe d’Aigrigny, on the + contrary, is it not Madame de Saint-Dizier, who have to render an account + for the injuries they have done me?” + </p> + <p> + “But, then, madame, how do you explain the meeting of these two men, + who have so many motives for mutual aversion? May there not be some dark + project still behind? Besides, madame, I am not the only one to think so.” + </p> + <p> + “How is that?” + </p> + <p> + “This morning, on my return, I was so much agitated, that Mdlle. + Florine asked me the cause of my trouble. I know, madame, how much she is + devoted to you.” + </p> + <p> + “Nobody could be more so; only recently, you yourself informed me of + the signal service she rendered, during my confinement at Dr. Baleinier’s.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, madame, this morning, on my return, thinking it necessary to + have you informed as soon as possible, I told all to Mdlle. Florine. Like + me—even more, perhaps—she was terrified at the meeting of + Rodin and M. d’Aigrigny. + </p> + <p> + “After a moment’s reflection, she said to me: ‘It is, I + think, useless to disturb my mistress at present; it can be of no + importance whether she is informed of this treachery two or three hours + sooner or later; during that time I may be able to discover something + more. I have an idea, which I think a good one. Make my excuses to my + mistress; I shall soon be back.’ Then Florine sent for a + hackney-coach, and went out.” + </p> + <p> + “Florine is an excellent girl,” said Mdlle. de Cardoville, + with a smile, for further reflection had quite reassured her: “but, + on this occasion, I think that her zeal and good heart have deceived her, + as they have you, my poor friend. Do you know, that we are two madcaps, + you and I, not to have thought of one thing, which would have put us quite + at our ease?” + </p> + <p> + “How so, madame?” + </p> + <p> + “The Abbe d’Aigrigny fears M. Rodin; he may have sought him + out, to entreat his forbearance. Do you not find this explanation both + satisfactory and reasonable?” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps so, madame,” said Mother Bunch, after a moment’s + reflection; “yes, it is probable.” But after another silence, + and as if yielding to a conviction superior to every possible argument, + she exclaimed: “And yet, no; believe me, madame, you are deceived. I + feel it. All appearances may be against what I affirm; yet, believe me, + these presentiments are too strong not to be true. And have you not + guessed the most secret instincts of my heart? Why should I not be able to + guess the dangers with which you are menaced?” + </p> + <p> + “What do you say? what have I guessed?” replied Mdlle. de + Cardoville, involuntarily impressed by the other’s tone of + conviction and alarm. + </p> + <p> + “What have you guessed?” resumed the latter. “All the + troublesome susceptibility of an unfortunate creature, to whom destiny has + decreed a life apart. If I have hitherto been silent, it is not from + ignorance of what I owe you. Who told you, madame, that the only way to + make me accept your favors without blushing, was to give me some + employment, that would enable me to soothe the misfortunes I had so long + shared? Who told you, when you wished me to have a seat at your table, and + to treat as your friend the poor needlewoman, in whose person you sought + to honor, resignation and honest industry—who told you, when I + answered with tears of gratitude and regret, that it was not false + modesty, but a consciousness of my own ridiculous deformity, that made me + refuse your offer? Who told you that, but for this, I should have accepted + it proudly, in the name of all my low-born sisters? But you replied to me + with the touching words: ‘I understand your refusal, my friend; it + is not occasioned by false modesty, but by a sentiment of dignity that I + love and respect.’ Who told you,” continued the workgirl, with + increasing animation, “that I should be so happy to find a little + solitary retreat in this magnificent house, which dazzles me with its + splendor? Who guided you in the choice of the apartment (still far too + good) that you have provided for me? Who taught you, that, without envying + the beauty of the charming creatures that surround you, and whom I love + because they love you, I should always feel, by an involuntary comparison, + embarrassed and ashamed before them? Who told you therefore to send them + away, whenever you wished to speak with me? Yes! who has revealed to you + all the painful and secret susceptibilities of a position like mine! Who + has revealed them to you? God, no doubt! who in His infinite majesty + creates worlds, and yet cares for the poor little insect hidden beneath + the grass. And you think, that the gratitude of a heart you have + understood so well, cannot rise in its turn to the knowledge of what may + be hurtful to you? No, no, lady; some people have the instinct of self + preservation; others have the still more precious instinct that enables + them to preserve those they love. God has given me this instinct. I tell + you that you are betrayed!” And with animated look, and cheeks + slightly colored with emotion, the speaker laid such stress upon the last + words, and accompanied them with such energetic gesture, that Mdlle. de + Cardoville already shaken by the girl’s warmth, began almost to + share in her apprehensions. Then, although she had before learned to + appreciate the superior intelligence of this poor child of the people, + Mdlle. de Cardoville had never till now heard her friend express herself + with so much eloquence—an eloquence, too, that was inspired by the + noblest sentiments. This circumstance added to the impression made upon + Adrienne. But at the moment she was about to answer, a knock was heard at + the door of the room, and Florine entered. + </p> + <p> + On seeing the alarmed countenance of her waiting-maid, Mdlle. de + Cardoville said hastily: “Well, Florine! what news? Whence come you, + my child?” + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:65%;"> + <img src="images/20405m.jpg" alt="20405m” width=" /><br /> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/20405.jpg"><i>Original</i></a> + </h5> + <p> + “From Saint-Dizier House, madame.” + </p> + <p> + “And why did you go there?” asked Mdlle. de Cardoville, with + surprise. + </p> + <p> + “This morning,” said Florine, glancing at the workgirl, + “madame, there, confided to me her suspicions and uneasiness. I + shared in them. The visit of the Abbe d’Aigrigny to M. Rodin + appeared to me very serious. I thought, if it should turn out that M. + Rodin had been during the last few days to Saint-Dizier House, there would + be no longer any doubt of his treachery.” + </p> + <p> + “True,” said Adrienne, more and more uneasy. “Well?” + </p> + <p> + “As I had been charged to superintend the removal from the lodge, I + knew that several things had remained there. To obtain admittance, I had + to apply to Mrs. Grivois. I had thus a pretext for returning to the hotel.” + </p> + <p> + “What next, Florine, what next?” + </p> + <p> + “I endeavored to get Mrs. Grivois to talk of M. Rodin; but it was in + vain.” + </p> + <p> + “She suspected you,” said the workgirl. “It was to be + anticipated.” + </p> + <p> + “I asked her,” continued Florine, “if they had seen M. + Rodin at the hotel lately. She answered evasively. Then despairing of + getting anything out of her,” continued Florine, “I left Mrs. + Grivois, and that my visit might excite no suspicion, I went to the + pavilion—when, as I turn down the avenue—whom do I see? why, + M. Rodin himself, hastening towards the little garden-door, wishing no + doubt to depart unnoticed by that way.” + </p> + <p> + “Madame, you hear,” cried Mother Bunch, clasping her hands + with a supplicating air; “such evidence should convince you.” + </p> + <p> + “M. Rodin at the Princess de Saint-Dizier’s!” cried + Mdlle. de Cardoville, whose glance, generally so mild, now suddenly + flashed with vehement indignation. Then she added, in a tone of + considerable emotion, “Continue, Florine.” + </p> + <p> + “At sight of M. Rodin, I stopped,” proceeded Florine, “and + keeping a little on one side, I gained the pavilion without being seen. I + looked out into the street, through the closed blinds, and perceived a + hackney coach. It was waiting for M. Rodin, for, a minute after, he got + into it, saying to the coachman, ‘No. 39, Rue Blanche.’ + </p> + <p> + “The prince’s!” exclaimed Mdlle. de Cardoville. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, madame.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, M. Rodin was to see him to-day,” said Adrienne, + reflecting. + </p> + <p> + “No doubt he betrays you, madame, and the prince also; the latter + will be made his victim more easily than you.” + </p> + <p> + “Shame! shame!” cried Mdlle. de Cardoville, on a sudden, as + she rose, all her features contracted with painful anger. “After + such a piece of treachery, it is enough to make us doubt of everything—even + of ourselves.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, madame! is it not dreadful?” said Mother Bunch, + shuddering. + </p> + <p> + “But, then, why did he rescue me and mine, and accuse the Abbe d’Aigrigny?” + wondered Mdlle. de Cardoville. “Of a truth, it is enough to make one + lose one’s reason. It is an abyss—but, oh! how frightful is + doubt!” + </p> + <p> + “As I returned,” said Florine, casting a look of affectionate + devotion on her mistress, “I thought of a way to make all clear; but + there is not a minute to lose.” + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean?” said Adrienne, looking at Florine with + surprise. + </p> + <p> + “M. Rodin will soon be alone with the prince,” said Florine. + </p> + <p> + “No doubt,” replied Adrienne. + </p> + <p> + “The prince always sits in a little room that opens upon a + greenhouse. It is there that he will receive M. Rodin.” + </p> + <p> + “What then?” resumed Adrienne. + </p> + <p> + “This greenhouse, which I had arranged according to your orders, has + only one issue—by a door leading into a little lane. The gardener + gets in that way every morning, so as not to have to pass through the + apartments. Having finished his work, he does not return thither during + the day.” + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean? what is your project?” said Adrienne, + looking at Florine with growing surprise. + </p> + <p> + “The plants are so disposed, that, I think, if even the shade were + not there, which screens the glass that separates the saloon from the + greenhouse, one might get near enough to hear what was passing in the + room, without being seen. When I was superintending the arrangements, I + always entered by this greenhouse door. The gardener had one key, and I + another. Luckily, I have not yet parted with mine. Within an hour, you may + know how far to trust M. Rodin. If he betrays the prince, he betrays you + also.” + </p> + <p> + “What say you?” cried Mdlle. de Cardoville. + </p> + <p> + “Set out instantly with me; we reach the side door; I enter alone, + for precaution sake—if all is right, I return—” + </p> + <p> + “You would have me turn spy?” said Mdlle. de Cardoville, + haughtily, interrupting Florine. “You cannot think it. + </p> + <p> + “I beg your pardon, madame,” said the girl, casting down her + eyes, with confused and sorrowful air; “you had suspicions, and me + seems ‘tis the only way to confirm or destroy them.” + </p> + <p> + “Stoop to listen to a conversation—never!” replied + Adrienne. + </p> + <p> + “Madame,” said Mother Bunch, suddenly, after same moments’ + thought, “permit me to tell you that Mdlle. Florine is right. The + plan proposed is a painful one, but it is the only way in which you can + clear up, perhaps, for ever, your doubts as to M. Rodin. Notwithstanding + the evidence of facts, in spite of the almost certainty of my + presentiments, appearances may deceive us. I was the first who accused M. + Rodin to you. I should not forgive myself all the rest of my life, did I + accuse him wrongfully. Beyond doubt, it is painful, as you say, madame, to + listen to a conversation—” Then, with a violent effort to + console herself, she added, as she strove to repress her tears, “Yet, + as your safety is at stake, madame—for, if this be treachery, the + future prospect is dreadful—I will go in your place—to—” + </p> + <p> + “Not a word more, I entreat you,” cried Mdlle. de Cardoville, + interrupting. “Let you, my poor friend, do for me what I thought + degrading to do myself? Never!” + </p> + <p> + Then, turning to Florine, she added, “Tell M. de Bonneville to have + the carriage got ready on the instant.” + </p> + <p> + “You consent, then!” cried Florine, clasping her hands, and + not seeking to conceal her joy; and her eyes also became full of tears. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I consent,” answered Adrienne, with emotion. “If + it is to be war—war to the knife, that they would wage with me—I + must be prepared for it; and, come to think of it, it would only be + weakness and folly not to put myself on my guard. No doubt this step costs + me much, and is very repugnant to me, but it is the only way to put an end + to suspicions that would be a continual torment to me, and perhaps to + prevent still greater evils. Yes! for many important reasons, this + interview of M. Rodin with Prince Djalma may be doubly decisive to me—as + to the confidence, or the inexorable hate, that I must henceforth feel for + M. Rodin. So, Florine, quick!—my cloak and bonnet, and the carriage. + You will go with me. As for you, my dear, pray wait for me here,” + she added, turning to the work girl. + </p> + <p> + Half an hour after this conversation, Adrienne’s carriage stopped, + as we have before seen, at the little garden-gate of the house in the Rue + Blanche. Florine entered the greenhouse and soon returned to her mistress. + “The shade is down, madame. M. Rodin has just entered the prince’s + room.” Mdlle. de Cardoville was, therefore, present, though + invisible, at the following scene, which took place between Rodin and + Djalma. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0096" id="link2HCH0096"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XLIII. THE LETTER. + </h2> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">S</span>ome minutes before + the entrance of Mdlle. de Cardoville into the greenhouse, Rodin had been + introduced by Faringhea into the presence of the prince, who, still under + the influence of the burning excitement into which he had been plunged by + the words of the half-caste, did not appear to perceive the Jesuit. The + latter, surprised at the animated expression of Djalma’s + countenance, and his almost frantic air, made a sign of interrogation to + Faringhea, who answered him privately in the following symbolical manner:—After + laying his forefinger on his head and heart, he pointed to the fire + burning in the chimney, signifying by his pantomimic action that the head + and heart of Djalma were both in flames. No doubt Rodin understood him, + for an imperceptible smile of satisfaction played upon his wan lips; then + he said aloud to Faringhea, “I wish to be alone with the prince. Let + down the shade and see that we are not interrupted.” The half-caste + bowed, and touched a spring near the sheet of plate-glass, which slid into + the wall as the blind descended; then, again bowing, Faringhea left the + room. It was shortly after that Mdlle. de Cardoville and Florine entered + the greenhouse, which was now only separated from the room in which was + Djalma, by the transparent thickness of a shade of white silk, embroidered + with large colored birds. The noise of the door, which Faringhea closed as + he went out, seemed to recall the young Indian to himself; his features, + though still animated, recovered their habitual expression of mildness and + gentleness; he started, drew his hand across his brow, looked around him, + as if waking up from a deep reverie, and then, advancing towards Rodin, + with an air as respectful as confused, he said to him, using the + expression commonly applied to old men in his country, “Pardon me, + father.” Still following the customs of his nation, so full of + deference towards age, he took Rodin’s hand to raise it to his lips, + but the Jesuit drew back a step, and refused his homage. + </p> + <p> + “For what do you ask pardon, my dear prince?” said he to + Djalma. + </p> + <p> + “When you entered, I was in a dream; I did not come to meet you. + Once more, pardon me, father!” + </p> + <p> + “Once more, I forgive you with all my heart, my dear prince. But let + us have some talk. Pray resume your place on the couch, and your pipe, + too, if you like it.” + </p> + <p> + But Djalma, instead of adopting the suggestion, and throwing himself on + the divan, according to his custom, insisted on seating himself in a + chair, notwithstanding all the persuasions of “the Old Man with the + Good Heart,” as he always called the Jesuit. + </p> + <p> + “Really, your politeness troubles me, my dear prince,” said + Rodin; “you are here at home in India; at least, we wish you to + think so.” + </p> + <p> + “Many things remind me of my country,” said Djalma, in a mild + grave tone. “Your goodness reminds me of my father, and of him who + was a father to me,” added the Indian, as he thought of Marshal + Simon, whose arrival in Paris had been purposely concealed from him. + </p> + <p> + After a moment’s silence, he resumed in a tone full of affectionate + warmth, as he stretched out his hand to Rodin, “You are come, and I + am happy!” + </p> + <p> + “I understand your joy, my dear prince, for I come to take you out + of prison—to open your cage for you. I had begged you to submit to a + brief seclusion, entirely for your own interest.” + </p> + <p> + “Can I go out to-morrow?” + </p> + <p> + “To-day, my dear prince, if you please.” + </p> + <p> + The young Indian reflected for a moment, and then resumed, “I must + have friends, since I am here in a palace that does not belong to me.” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly you have friends—excellent friends,” answered + Rodin. At these words, Djalma’s countenance seemed to acquire fresh + beauty. The most noble sentiments were expressed in his fine features; his + large black eyes became slightly humid, and, after another interval of + silence, he rose and said to Rodin with emotion: “Come!” + </p> + <p> + “Whither, dear prince?” said the other, much surprised. + </p> + <p> + “To thank my friends. I have waited three days. It is long.” + </p> + <p> + “Permit me dear prince—I have much to tell you on this subject—please + to be seated.” + </p> + <p> + Djalma resumed his seat with docility. Rodin continued: “It is true + that you have friends; or rather, you have a friend. Friends are rare.” + </p> + <p> + “What are you?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, then, you have two friends, my dear prince—myself, whom + you know, and one other, whom you do not know, and who desires to remain + unknown to you.” + </p> + <p> + “Why?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Why should there be concealment when we do good?” + </p> + <p> + “Sometimes, to conceal the good we do, my dear prince.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “If he were known—as my friend?” + </p> + <p> + “Exactly so, dear prince.” + </p> + <p> + 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 + to me, I conjure you.” + </p> + <p> + Notwithstanding his complete ignorance of certain social conventionalisms, + Djalma had too much good sense and uprightness, not to appreciate reason, + when it appeared reasonable. The words of Rodin calmed him. With that + ingenuous modesty, with which natures full of strength and generosity are + almost always endowed, he answered mildly: “You are right, father. I + am no longer in my own country. Here the customs are different. I will + reflect upon it.” + </p> + <p> + Notwithstanding his craft and suppleness, Rodin sometimes found himself + perplexed by the wild and unforseen ideas of the young Indian. Thus he + saw, to his great surprise, that Djalma now remained pensive for some + minutes, after which he resumed in a calm but firm tone: “I have + obeyed you, father: I have reflected.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, my dear prince?” + </p> + <p> + “In no country in the world, under no pretext, should a man of honor + conceal his friendship for another man of honor.” + </p> + <p> + “But suppose there should be danger in avowing this friendship?” + said Rodin, very uneasy at the turn the conversation was taking. Djalma + eyed the Jesuit with contemptuous astonishment, and made no reply. + </p> + <p> + “I understand your silence, my dear prince: a brave man ought to + defy danger. True; but if it should be you that the danger threatens, in + case this friendship were discovered, would not your man of honor be + excusable, even praiseworthy, to persist in remaining unknown?” + </p> + <p> + “I accept nothing from a friend, who thinks me capable of denying + him from cowardice.” + </p> + <p> + “Dear prince—listen to me.” + </p> + <p> + “Adieu, father.” + </p> + <p> + “Yet reflect!” + </p> + <p> + “I have said it,” replied Djalma, in an abrupt and almost + sovereign tone, as he walked towards the door. + </p> + <p> + “But suppose a woman were concerned,” cried Rodin, driven to + extremity, and hastening after the young Indian, for he really feared that + Djalma might rush from the house, and thus overthrow all his projects. + </p> + <p> + At the last words of Rodin the Indian stopped abruptly. “A woman!” + said he, with a start, and turning red. “A woman is concerned?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, yes! suppose it were a woman,” resumed Rodin, “would + you not then understand her reserve, and the secrecy with which she is + obliged to surround the marks of affection she wishes to give you?” + </p> + <p> + “A woman!” repeated Djalma, in a trembling voice, clasping his + hands in adoration; and his beautiful countenance was expressive of the + deepest emotion. “A woman!” said he again. “A Parisian?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, my dear prince, as you force me to this indiscretion, I will + confess to you that your friend is a real Parisian—a noble matron, + endowed with the highest virtues—whose age alone merits all your + respect.” + </p> + <p> + “She is very old, then?” cried poor Djalma, whose charming + dream was thus abruptly dispelled. + </p> + <p> + “She may be a few years older than I am,” answered Rodin, with + an ironical smile, expecting to see the young man express a sort of + comical disappointment or angry regret. + </p> + <p> + But it was not so. To the passionate enthusiasm of love, which had for a + moment lighted up the prince’s features, there now succeeded a + respectful and touching expression. He looked at Rodin with emotion, and + said to him in a broken voice: “This woman, is then, a mother to me?” + </p> + <p> + It is impossible to describe with what a pious, melancholy, and tender + charm the Indian uttered the word mother. + </p> + <p> + “You have it, my dear prince; this respectable lady wishes to be a + mother to you. But I may not reveal to you the cause of the affection she + feels for you. Only, believe me—this affection is sincere, and the + cause honorable. If I do not tell you her secret, it is that, with us, the + secrets of women, young or old, are equally sacred.” + </p> + <p> + “That is right, and I will respect it. Without seeing her, I will + love her—as I love God, without seeing Him.” + </p> + <p> + “And now, my dear prince, let me tell you what are the intentions of + your maternal friend. This house will remain at your disposal, as long as + you like it; French servants, a carriage, and horses, will be at your + orders; the charges of your housekeeping will be paid for you. Then, as + the son of a king should live royalty, I have left in the next room a + casket containing five hundred Louis; every month a similar sum will be + provided: if it should not be found sufficient for your little amusements, + you will tell me, and it shall be augmented.” + </p> + <p> + At a movement of Djalma, Rodin hastened to add: “I must tell you at + once, my dear prince, that your delicacy may be quite at ease. First of + all, you may accept anything from a mother; next, as in about three months + you will come into possession of an immense inheritance, it will be easy + for you, if you feel the obligation a burden—and the sum cannot + exceed, at the most, four or five thousand Louis—to repay these + advances. Spare nothing, then, but satisfy all your fancies. You are + expected to appear in the great world of Paris, in a style becoming the + son of a king who was called the Father of the Generous. So once again I + conjure you not to be restrained by a false delicacy; if this sum should + not be sufficient—” + </p> + <p> + “I will ask for more. My mother is right; the son of a monarch ought + to live royally.” + </p> + <p> + Such was the answer of the Indian, made with perfect simplicity, and + without any appearance of astonishment at these magnificent offers. This + was natural. Djalma would have done for others what they were doing for + him, for the traditions of the prodigal magnificence and splendid + hospitality of Indian princes are well known. Djalma had been as moved as + grateful, on hearing that a woman loved him with maternal affection. As + for the luxury with which she nought to surround him, he accepted it + without astonishment and without scruple. This resignation, again, + somewhat disconcerted Rodin, who had prepared many excellent arguments to + persuade the Indian to accept his offers. + </p> + <p> + “Well, then, it’s all agreed, my dear prince,” resumed + the Jesuit. “Now, as you must see the world, it’s just as well + to enter by the best door, as we say. One of the friends of your maternal + protectress, the Count de Montbron, an old nobleman of the greatest + experience, and belonging to the first society, will introduce you in some + of the best houses in Paris.” + </p> + <p> + “Will you not introduce me, father?” + </p> + <p> + “Alas! my dear prince, look at me. Tell me, if you think I am fitted + for such an office. No! no; I live alone and retired from the world. And + then,” added Rodin, after a short silence, fixing a penetrating, + attentive, and curious look upon the prince, as if he would have subjected + him to a sort of experiment by what follows; “and then, you see, M. + de Montbron will be better able than I should, in the world you are about + to enter, to enlighten you as to the snares that will be laid for you. For + if you have friends, you have also enemies—cowardly enemies, as you + know, who have abused your confidence in an infamous manner, and have made + sport of you. And as, unfortunately, their power is equal to their + wickedness, it would perhaps be more prudent in you to try to avoid them—to + fly, instead of resisting them openly.” + </p> + <p> + At the remembrance of his enemies, at the thought of flying from them, + Djalma trembled in every limb; his features became of a lurid paleness; + his eyes wide open, so that the pupil was encircled with white, sparkled + with lurid fire; never had scorn, hatred, and the desire of vengeance, + expressed themselves so terribly on a human face. His upper lip, blood + red, was curled convulsively, exposing a row of small, white, and close + set teeth, and giving to his countenance lately so charming, an air of + such animal ferocity, that Rodin started from his seat, and exclaimed: + “What is the matter, prince? You frighten me.” + </p> + <p> + Djalma did not answer. Half leaning forward, with his hands clinched in + rage, he seemed to cling to one of the arms of the chair, for fear of + yielding to a burst of terrific fury. At this moment, the amber mouthpiece + of his pipe rolled, by chance, under one of his feet; the violent tension, + which contracted all the muscles of the young Indian, was so powerful, and + notwithstanding his youth and his light figure, he was endowed with such + vigor, that with one abrupt stamp he powdered to dust the piece of amber, + in spite of its extreme hardness. + </p> + <p> + “In the name of heaven, what is the matter, prince?” cried + Rodin. + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:65%;"> + <img src="images/20413m.jpg" alt="20413m” width=" /><br /> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/20413.jpg"><i>Original</i></a> + </h5> + <p> + “Thus would I crush my cowardly enemies!” exclaimed Djalma, + with menacing and excited look. Then, as if these words had brought his + rage to a climax, he bounded from his seat, and, with haggard eyes, strode + about the room for some seconds in all directions, as if he sought for + some weapon, and uttered from time to time a hoarse cry, which he + endeavored to stifle by thrusting his clinched fist against his mouth, + whilst his jaws moved convulsively. It was the impotent rage of a wild + beast, thirsting for blood. Yet, in all this, the young Indian preserved a + great and savage beauty; it was evident that these instincts of sanguinary + ardor and blind intrepidity, now excited to this pitch by horror of + treachery and cowardice, when applied to war, or to those gigantic Indian + hunts, which are even more bloody than a battle, must make of Djalma what + he really was a hero. + </p> + <p> + Rodin admired, with deep and ominous joy, the fiery impetuosity of passion + in the young Indian, for, under various conceivable circumstances, the + effect must be terrible. Suddenly, to the Jesuit’s great surprise, + the tempest was appeased. Djalma’s fury was calmed thus + instantaneously, because refection showed him how vain it was: ashamed of + his childish violence, he cast down his eyes. His countenance remained + pale and gloomy; and, with a cold tranquillity, far more formidable than + the violence to which he had yielded, he said to Rodin: “Father, you + will this day lead me to meet my enemies.” + </p> + <p> + “In what end, my dear prince? What would you do?” + </p> + <p> + “Kill the cowards!” + </p> + <p> + “Kill them! you must not think of it.” + </p> + <p> + “Faringhea will aid me.” + </p> + <p> + “Remember, you are not on the banks of the Ganges, and here one does + not kill an enemy like a hunted tiger.” + </p> + <p> + “One fights with a loyal enemy, but one kills a traitor like an + accursed dog,” replied Djalma, with as much conviction as + tranquillity. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, prince, whose father was the Father of the Generous,” + said Rodin, in a grave voice; “what pleasure can you find in + striking down creatures as cowardly as they are wicked?” + </p> + <p> + “To destroy what is dangerous, is a duty.” + </p> + <p> + “So prince, you seek for revenge.” + </p> + <p> + “I do not revenge myself on a serpent,” said the Indian, with + haughty bitterness; “I crush it.” + </p> + <p> + “But, my dear prince, here we cannot get rid of our enemies in that + manner. If we have cause of complaint—” + </p> + <p> + “Women and children complain,” said Djalma, interrupting + Rodin: “men strike.” + </p> + <p> + “Still on the banks of the Ganges, my dear prince. Here society + takes your cause into its own hands, examines, judges, and if there be + good reason, punishes.” + </p> + <p> + “In my own quarrel, I am both judge and executioner.” + </p> + <p> + “Pray listen to me; you have escaped the odious snares of your + enemies, have you not?—Well! suppose it were thanks to the devotion + of the venerable woman who has for you the tenderness of a mother, and + that she were to ask you to forgive them—she, who saved you from + their hands—what would you do then?” + </p> + <p> + The Indian hung his head, and was silent. Profiting by his hesitation, + Rodin continued: “I might say to you that I know your enemies, but + that in the dread of seeing you commit some terrible imprudence, I would + conceal their names from you forever. But no! I swear to you, that if the + respectable person, who loves you as her son, should find it either right + or useful that I should tell you their names, I will do so—until she + has pronounced, I must be silent.” + </p> + <p> + Djalma looked at Rodin with a dark and wrathful air. At this moment, + Faringhea entered, and said to Rodin: “A man with a letter, not + finding you at home, has been sent on here. Am I to receive it? He says it + comes from the Abbe d’Aigrigny. + </p> + <p> + “Certainly,” answered Rodin. “That is,” he added, + “with the prince’s permission.” + </p> + <p> + Djalma nodded in reply; Faringhea went out. + </p> + <p> + “You will excuse what I have done, dear prince. I expected this + morning a very important letter. As it was late in coming to hand, I + ordered it to be sent on.” + </p> + <p> + A few minutes after, Faringhea returned with the letter, which he + delivered to Rodin—and the half-caste again withdrew. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0097" id="link2HCH0097"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XLIV. ADRIENNE AND DJALMA. + </h2> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">W</span>hen Faringhea had + quitted the room, Rodin took the letter from Abbe d’Aigrigny with + one hand, and with the other appeared to be looking for something, first + in the side pocket of his great-coat, then in the pocket behind, then in + that of his trousers; and, not finding what he sought, he laid the letter + on his knee, and felt himself all over with both hands, with an air of + regret and uneasiness. The divers movements of this pantomime, performed + in the most natural manner, were crowned by the exclamations. + </p> + <p> + “Oh! dear me! how vexatious!” + </p> + <p> + “What is the matter?” asked Djalma, starting from the gloomy + silence in which he had been plunged for some minutes. + </p> + <p> + “Alas! my dear prince!” replied Rodin, “the most vulgar + and puerile accident may sometimes cause the greatest inconvenience. I + have forgotten or lost my spectacles. Now, in this twilight, with the very + poor eyesight that years of labor have left me, it will be absolutely + impossible for me to read this most important letter—and an + immediate answer is expected—most simple and categorical—a yes + or a no. Times presses; it is really most annoying. If,” added + Rodin, laying great stress on his words, without looking at Djalma, but so + as the prince might remark it; “if only some one would render me the + service to read it for me; but there is no one—no—one!” + </p> + <p> + “Father,” said Djalma, obligingly, “shall I read it for + you. When I have finished it, I shall forget what I have read.” + </p> + <p> + “You?” cried Rodin, as if the proposition of the Indian had + appeared to him extravagant and dangerous; “it is impossible, + prince, for you to read this letter.” + </p> + <p> + “Then excuse my having offered,” said Djalma mildly. + </p> + <p> + “And yet,” resumed Rodin, after a moment’s reflection, + and as if speaking to himself, “why not?” + </p> + <p> + And he added, addressing Djalma: “Would you really be so obliging, + my dear prince? I should not have ventured to ask you this service.” + </p> + <p> + So saying, Rodin delivered the letter to Djalma, who read aloud as + follows: “‘Your visit this morning to Saint-Dizier House can + only be considered, from what I hear, as a new act of aggression on your + part. + </p> + <p> + “‘Here is the last proposition I have to make. It may be as + fruitless as the step I took yesterday, when I called upon you in the Rue + Clovis. + </p> + <p> + “‘After that long and painful explanation, I told you that I + would write to you. I keep my promise, and here is my ultimatum. + </p> + <p> + “‘First of all, a piece of advice. Beware! If you are + determined to maintain so unequal a struggle, you will be exposed even to + the hatred of those whom you so foolishly seek to protect. There are a + thousand ways to ruin you with them, by enlightening them as to your + protects. It will be proved to them, that you have shared in the plat, + which you now pretend to reveal, not from generosity, but from cupidity.’” + Though Djalma had the delicacy to feel that the least question on the + subject of this letter would be a serious indiscretion, he could not + forbear turning his head suddenly towards the Jesuit, as he read the last + passage. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes! it relates to me. Such as you see me, my dear prince,” + added he, glancing at his shabby clothes, “I am accused of cupidity.” + </p> + <p> + “And who are these people that you protect?” + </p> + <p> + “Those I protect?” said Rodin feigning some hesitation, as if + he had been embarrassed to find an answer; “who are those I protect? + Hem—hem—I will tell you. They are poor devils without + resources; good people without a penny, having only a just cause on their + side, in a lawsuit in which they are engaged. They are threatened with + destruction by powerful parties—very powerful parties; but, happily, + these latter are known to me, and I am able to unmask them. What else + could have been? Being myself poor and weak, I range myself naturally on + the side of the poor and weak. But continue, I beg of you.” + </p> + <p> + Djalma resumed: “‘You have therefore every-thing to fear if + you persist in your hostility, and nothing to gain by taking the side of + those whom you call your friends. They might more justly be termed your + dupes, for your disinterestedness would be inexplicable, were it sincere. + It must therefore conceal some after-thought of cupidity. + </p> + <p> + “‘Well! in that view of the case, we can offer you ample + compensation—with this difference, that your hopes are now entirely + founded on the probable gratitude of your friends, a very doubtful chance + at the best, whereas our offers will be realized on the instant. To speak + clearly, this is what we ask, what we exact of you. This very night, + before twelve, you must have left Paris, and engage not to return for six + months.’” Djalma could not repress a movement of surprise, and + looked at Rodin. + </p> + <p> + “Quite natural,” said the latter; “the cause of my poor + friends would be judged by that time, and I should be unable to watch over + them. You see how it is, my dear prince,” added Rodin, with bitter + indignation. “But please continue, and excuse me for having + interrupted you; though, indeed, such impudence disgusts me.” + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:65%;"> + <img src="images/20421m.jpg" alt="20421m” width=" /><br /> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/20421.jpg"><i>Original</i></a> + </h5> + <p> + Djalma continued: “‘That we may be certain of your removal + from Paris for six months, you will go to the house of one of our friends + in Germany. You will there be received with generous hospitality, but + forcibly detained until the expiration of the term.’” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes! a voluntary prison,” said Rodin. + </p> + <p> + “‘On these conditions, you will receive a pension of one + thousand francs a month, to begin from your departure from Paris, ten + thousand francs down, and twenty thousand at the end of the six months—the + whole to be completely secured to you. Finally, at the end of the six + months, we will place you in a position both honorable and independent.’” + </p> + <p> + Djalma having stopped short, with involuntary indignation, Rodin said to + him: “Let me beg you to continue, my dear prince. Read to the end, + and it will give you some idea of what passes in the midst of our + civilization.” + </p> + <p> + Djalma resumed: “‘You know well enough the course of affairs, + and what we are, to feel that in providing for your absence, we only wish + to get rid of an enemy, not very dangerous, but rather troublesome. Do not + be blinded by your first success. The results of your denunciation will be + stifled, because they are calumnious. The judge who received your evidence + will soon repent his odious partiality. You may make what use you please + of this letter. We know what we write, to whom we write, and how we write. + You will receive this letter at three o’clock; if by four o’clock + we have not your full and complete acceptance, written with your own hand + at the bottom of this letter, war must commence between us—and not + from to-morrow, but on the instant.’” + </p> + <p> + Having finished reading the letter, Djalma looked at Rodin, who said to + him: “Permit me to summon Faringhea.” + </p> + <p> + He rang the bell, and the half-caste appeared. Rodin took the letter from + the hands of Djalma, tore it into halves, rubbed it between his palms, so + as to make a sort of a ball, and said to the half-caste, as he returned it + to him: “Give this palter to the person who waits for it, and tell + him that is my only answer to his shameless and insolent letter; you + understand me—this shameless and insolent letter.” + </p> + <p> + “I understand.” said the half-caste; and he went out. + </p> + <p> + “This will perhaps be a dangerous war for you, father, said the + Indian, with interest. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, dear prince, it may be dangerous, but I am not like you; I + have no wish to kill my enemies, because they are cowardly and wicked. I + fight them under the shield of the law. Imitate me in this.” Then, + seeing that the countenance of Djalma darkened, he added: “I am + wrong. I will advise you no more on this subject. Only, let us defer the + decision to the judgment of your noble and motherly protectress. I shall + see her to morrow; if she consents, I will tell you the names of your + enemies. If not—not.” + </p> + <p> + “And this woman, this second mother,” said Djalma, “is + her character such, that I can rely on her judgment?” + </p> + <p> + “She!” cried Rodin, clasping his hands, and speaking with + increased excitement. “Why, she is the most noble, the most + generous, the most valiant being upon earth!—why, if you were really + her son, and she loved you with all the strength of maternal affection, + and a case arose in which you had to choose between an act of baseness and + death, she would say to you: ‘Die!’ though she might herself + die with you.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, noble woman! so was my mother!” cried Djalma, with + enthusiasm. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” resumed Rodin, with growing energy, as he approached + the window concealed by the shade, towards which he threw an oblique and + anxious glance, “if you would imagine your protectress, think only + of courage, uprightness, and loyalty personified. Oh! she has the + chivalrous frankness of the brave man, joined with the high-souled dignity + of the woman, who not only never in her life told a falsehood, never + concealed a single thought, but who would rather die than give way to the + least of those sentiments of craft and dissimulation, which are almost + forced upon ordinary women by the situation in which they are placed.” + </p> + <p> + It is difficult to express the admiration which shone upon the countenance + of Djalma, as he listened to this description. His eyes sparkled, his + cheeks glowed, his heart palpitated with enthusiasm. + </p> + <p> + “That is well, noble heart!” said Rodin to him, drawing still + nearer to the blind; “I love to see your soul sparkle through your + eyes, on hearing me speak thus of your unknown protectress. Oh! but she is + worthy of the pious adoration which noble hearts and great characters + inspire!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! I believe you,” cried Djalma, with enthusiasm; “my + heart is full of admiration and also of astonishment, for my mother is no + more, and yet such a woman exists!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, she exists. For the consolation of the afflicted, for the + glory of her sex, she exists. For the honor of truth, and the shame of + falsehood, she exists. No lie, no disguise, has ever tainted her loyalty, + brilliant and heroic as the sword of a knight. It is but a few days ago + that this noble woman spoke to me these admirable words, which, in all my + life, I shall not forget: ‘Sir,’ she said, ‘if ever I + suspect any one that I love or esteem—‘” + </p> + <p> + Rodin did not finish. The shade, so violently shaken that the spring + broke, was drawn up abruptly, and, to the great astonishment of Djalma, + Mdlle. de Cardoville appeared before him. Adrienne’s cloak had + fallen from her shoulders, and in the violence of the movement with which + she had approached the blind, her bonnet, the strings of which were + untied, had also fallen. Having left home suddenly, with only just time to + throw a mantle over the picturesque and charming costume which she often + chose to wear when alone, she appeared so radiant with beauty to Djalma’s + dazzled eyes, in the centre of those leaves and flowers, that the Indian + believed himself under the influence of a dream. + </p> + <p> + With clasped hands, eyes wide open, the body slightly bent forward, as if + in the act of prayer, he stood petrified with admiration, Mdlle. de + Cardoville, much agitated, and her countenance glowing with emotion, + remained on the threshold of the greenhouse, without entering the room. + All this had passed in less time than it takes to describe it. Hardly had + the blind been raised, than Rodin, feigning surprise, exclaimed: “You + here, madame?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, sir!” said Adrienne, in an agitated voice, “I come + to terminate the phrase which you have commenced. I told you, that when a + suspicion crossed my mind, I uttered it aloud to the person by whom it was + inspired. Well! I confess it: I have failed in this honesty. I came here + as a spy upon you, when your answer to the Abbe d’Aigrigny was + giving me a new pledge of your devotion and sincerity. I doubted your + uprightness at the moment when you were bearing testimony to my frankness. + For the first time in my life, I stooped to deceit; this weakness merits + punishment, and I submit to it—demands reparation, and I make it—calls + for apologies, and I tender them to you.” Then turning towards + Djalma, she added: “Now, prince, I am no longer mistress of my + secret. I am your relation, Mdlle. de Cardoville; and I hope you will + accept from a sister the hospitality that you did not refuse from a + mother.” + </p> + <p> + Djalma made no reply. Plunged in ecstatic contemplation of this sudden + apparition, which surpassed his wildest and most dazzling visions, he felt + a sort of intoxication, which, paralyzing the power of thought, + concentrated all his faculties in the one sense of sight; and just as we + sometimes seek in vain to satisfy unquenchable thirst, the burning look of + the Indian sought, as it were, with devouring avidity, to take in all the + rare perfections of the young lady. Verily, never had two more divine + types of beauty met face to face. Adrienne and Djalma were the very ideal + of a handsome youth and maiden. There seemed to be something providential + in the meeting of these two natures, so young and so vivacious, so + generous and so full of passion, so heroic and so proud, who, before + coming into contact, had, singularly enough, each learned the moral worth + of the other; for if, at the words of Rodin, Djalma had felt arise in his + heart an admiration, as lively as it was sudden, for the valiant and + generous qualities of that unknown benefactress, whom he now discovered in + Mdlle. de Cardoville, the latter had, in her turn, been moved, affected, + almost terrified, by the interview she had just overheard, in which Djalma + had displayed the nobleness of his soul, the delicate goodness of his + heart, and the terrible transports of his temper. Then she had not been + able to repress a movement of astonishment, almost admiration, at sight of + the surprising beauty of the prince; and soon after, a strange, painful + sentiment, a sort of electric shock, seemed to penetrate all her being, as + her eyes encountered Djalma’s. + </p> + <p> + Cruelly agitated, and suffering deeply from this agitation, she tried to + dissemble the impression she had received, by addressing Rodin, to + apologize for having suspected him. But the obstinate silence of the + Indian redoubled the lady’s painful embarrassment. Again raising her + eyes towards the prince, to invite him to respond to her fraternal offer, + she met his ardent gaze wildly fixed upon her, and she looked once more + with a mixture of fear, sadness, and wounded pride; then she congratulated + herself on having foreseen the inexorable necessity of keeping Djalma at a + distance from her, such apprehension did this ardent and impetuous nature + already inspire. Wishing to put an end to her present painful situation, + she said to Rodin, in a low and trembling voice, “Pray, sir, speak + to the prince; repeat to him my offers. I cannot remain longer.” So + saying, Adrienne turned, as if to rejoin Florine. But, at the first step, + Djalma sprang towards her with the bound of a tiger, about to be deprived + of his prey. Terrified by the expression of wild excitement which inflamed + the Indian’s countenance, the young lady drew back with a loud + scream. + </p> + <p> + At this, Djalma remembered himself, and all that had passed. Pale with + regret and shame, trembling, dismayed, his eyes streaming with tears, and + all his features marked with an expression of the most touching despair, + he fell at Adrienne’s feet, and lifting his clasped hands towards + her, said in a soft, supplicating, timid voice: “Oh, remain! remain! + do not leave me. I have waited for you so long!” To this prayer, + uttered with the timid simplicity of a child, and a resignation which + contrasted strangely with the savage violence that had so frightened + Adrienne, she replied, as she made a sign to Florine to prepare for their + departure: “Prince, it is impossible for me to remain longer here.” + </p> + <p> + “But you will return?” said Djalma, striving to restrain his + tears. “I shall see you again?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no! never—never!” said Mdlle. de Cardoville, in a + failing voice. Then, profiting by the stupor into which her answer had + thrown Djalma, Adrienne disappeared rapidly behind the plants in the + greenhouse. + </p> + <p> + Florine was hastening to rejoin her mistress, when, just at the moment she + passed before Rodin, he said to her in a low, quick voice: “To-morrow + we must finish with the hunchback.” Florine trembled in every limb, + and, without answering Rodin, disappeared, like her mistress, behind the + plants. Broken, overpowered, Djalma remained upon his knees, with his head + resting on his breast. His countenance expressed neither rage nor + excitement, but a painful stupor; he wept silently. Seeing Rodin approach + him, he rose, but with so tremulous a step, that he could hardly reach the + divan, on which he sank down, hiding his face in his hands. + </p> + <p> + Then Rodin, advancing, said to him in a mild and insinuating tone: “Alas! + I feared what has happened. I did not wish you to see your benefactress; + and if I told you she was old, do you know why, dear prince?” + </p> + <p> + Djalma, without answering, let his hands fall upon his knees, and turned + towards Rodin a countenance still bathed in tears. + </p> + <p> + “I knew that Mdlle. de Cardoville was charming, and at your age it + is so easy to fall in love,” continued Rodin; “I wished to + spare you that misfortune, my dear prince, for your beautiful protectress + passionately loves a handsome young man of this town.” + </p> + <p> + Upon these words, Djalma suddenly pressed both hands to his heart, as if + he felt a piercing stab, uttered a cry of savage grief, threw back his + head, and fell fainting upon the divan. + </p> + <p> + Rodin looked at him coldly for some seconds, and then said as he went + away, brushing his old hat with his elbow, + </p> + <p> + “Come! it works—it works!” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0098" id="link2HCH0098"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XLV. THE CONSULTATION. + </h2> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">I</span>t is night. It has + just struck nine. It is the evening of that day on which Mdlle. de + Cardoville first found herself in the presence of Djalma. Florine, pale, + agitated, trembling, with a candle in her hand, had just entered a + bedroom, plainly but comfortably furnished. This room was one of the + apartments occupied by Mother Bunch, in Adrienne’s house. They were + situated on the ground-floor, and had two entrances. One opened on the + garden, and the other on the court-yard. From this side came the persons + who applied to the workgirl for succor; an ante-chamber in which they + waited, a parlor in which they were received, constituted Mother Bunch’s + apartments, along with the bedroom, which Florine had just entered, + looking about her with an anxious and alarmed air, scarcely touching the + carpet with the tips of her satin shoes, holding her breath, and listening + at the least noise. + </p> + <p> + Placing the candle upon the chimney-piece, she took a rapid survey of the + chamber, and approached the mahogany desk, surmounted by a well-filled + bookcase. The key had been left in the drawers of this piece of furniture, + and they were all three examined by Florine. They contained different + petitions from persons in distress, and various, notes in the girl’s + handwriting. This was not what Florine wanted. Three cardboard boxes were + placed in pigeon-holes beneath the bookcase. These also were vainly + explored, and Florine, with a gesture of vexation, looked and listened + anxiously; then, seeing a chest of drawers, she made therein a fresh and + useless search. Near the foot of the bed was a little door, leading to a + dressing-room. Florine entered it, and looked—at first without + success—into a large wardrobe, in which were suspended several black + dresses, recently made for Mother Bunch, by order of Mdlle. de Cardoville. + Perceiving, at the bottom of this wardrobe, half hidden beneath a cloak, a + very shabby little trunk, Florine opened it hastily, and found there, + carefully folded up, the poor old garments in which the work-girl had been + clad when she first entered this opulent mansion. + </p> + <p> + Florine started—an involuntary emotion contracted her features; but + considering that she had not liberty to indulge her feelings, but only to + obey Rodin’s implacable orders, she hastily closed both trunk and + wardrobe, and leaving the dressing-room, returned into the bed-chamber. + After having again examined the writing-stand, a sudden idea occurred to + her. Not content with once more searching the cardboard boxes, she drew + out one of them from the pigeon-hole, hoping to find what she sought + behind the box: her first attempt failed, but the second was more + successful. She found behind the middle box a copy-book of considerable + thickness. She started in surprise, for she had expected something else; + yet she took the manuscript, opened it, and rapidly turned over the + leaves. After having perused several pages, she manifested her + satisfaction, and seemed as if about to put the book in her pocket; but + after a moment’s reflection, she replaced it where she had found it, + arranged everything in order, took her candle, and quitted the apartment + without being discovered—of which, indeed, she had felt pretty sure, + knowing that Mother Bunch would be occupied with Mdlle. de Cardoville for + some hours. + </p> + <p> + The day after Florine’s researches, Mother Bunch, alone in her bed + chamber, was seated in an arm-chair, close to a good fire. A thick carpet + covered the floor; through the window-curtains could be seen the lawn of a + large garden; the deep silence was only interrupted by the regular ticking + of a clock, and the crackling of the wood. Her hands resting on the arms + of the chair, she gave way to a feeling of happiness, such as she had + never so completely enjoyed since she took up her residence at the hotel. + For her, accustomed so long to cruel privations, there was a kind of + inexpressible charm in the calm silence of this retreat—in the + cheerful aspect of the garden, and above all, in the consciousness that + she was indebted for this comfortable position, to the resignation and + energy she had displayed, in the thick of the many severe trials which now + ended so happily. An old woman, with a mild and friendly countenance, who + had been, by express desire of Adrienne, attached to the hunchback’s + service, entered the room and said to her: “Mademoiselle, a young + man wishes to speak to you on pressing business. He gives his name as + Agricola Baudoin.” + </p> + <p> + At this name, Mother Bunch uttered an exclamation of surprise and joy, + blushed slightly, rose and ran to the door which led to the parlor in + which was Agricola. + </p> + <p> + “Good-morning, dear sister,” said the smith, cordially + embracing the young girl, whose cheeks burned crimson beneath those + fraternal kisses. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, me!” cried the sempstress on a sudden, as she looked + anxiously at Agricola; “what is that black band on your forehead? + You have been wounded!” + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:65%;"> + <img src="images/20429m.jpg" alt="20429m” width=" /><br /> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/20429.jpg"><i>Original</i></a> + </h5> + <p> + “A mere nothing,” said the smith, “really nothing. Do + not think of it. I will tell you all about that presently. But first, I + have things of importance to communicate.” + </p> + <p> + “Come into my room, then; we shall be alone,” Mother Bunch, as + she went before Agricola. + </p> + <p> + Notwithstanding the expression of uneasiness which was visible on the + countenance of Agricola, he could not forbear smiling with pleasure as he + entered the room and looked around him. + </p> + <p> + “Excellent, my poor sister! this is how I would always have you + lodged. I recognize here the hand of Mdlle. de Cardoville. What a heart! + what a noble mind!—Dost know, she wrote to me the day before + yesterday, to thank me for what I had done for her, and sent me a gold pin + (very plain), which she said I need not hesitate to accept, as it had no + other value but that of having been worn by her mother! You can’t + tell how much I was affected by the delicacy of this gift!” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing must astonish you from a heart like hers,” answered + the hunchback. “But the wound—the wound?” + </p> + <p> + “Presently, my good sister; I have so many things to tell you. Let + us begin by what is most pressing, for I want you to give me some good + advice in a very serious case. You know how much confidence I have in your + excellent heart and judgment. And then, I have to ask of you a service—oh! + a great service,” added the smith, in an earnest, and almost solemn + tone, which astonished his hearer. “Let us begin with what is not + personal to myself.” + </p> + <p> + “Speak quickly.” + </p> + <p> + “Since my mother went with Gabriel to the little country curacy he + has obtained, and since my father lodges with Marshal Simon and the young + ladies, I have resided, you know, with my mates, at M. Hardy’s + factory, in the common dwelling-house. Now, this morning but first, I must + tell you that M. Hardy, who has lately returned from a journey, is again + absent for a few days on business. This morning, then, at the hour of + breakfast, I remained at work a little after the last stroke of the bell; + I was leaving the workshop to go to our eating-room, when I saw entering + the courtyard, a lady who had just got out of a hackney-coach. I remarked + that she was fair, though her veil was half down; she had a mild and + pretty countenance, and her dress was that of a fashionable lady. Struck + with her paleness, and her anxious, frightened air, I asked her if she + wanted anything. ‘Sir,’ said she to me, in a trembling voice, + and as if with a great effort, ‘do you belong to this factory?’—‘Yes, + madame.’—‘M. Hardy is then in clanger?’ she + exclaimed.—‘M. Hardy, madame? He has not yet returned home.’—‘What!’ + she went on, ‘M. Hardy did not come hither yesterday evening? Was he + not dangerously wounded by some of the machinery?’ As she said these + words, the poor young lady’s lips trembled, and I saw large tears + standing in her eyes. ‘Thank God, madame! all this is entirely + false,’ said I, ‘for M. Hardy has not returned, and indeed is + only expected by to-morrow or the day after.’—‘You are + quite sure that he has not returned! quite sure that he is not hurt?’ + resumed the pretty young lady, drying her eyes.—‘Quite sure, + madame; if M. Hardy were in danger, I should not be so quiet in talking to + you about him.’—‘Oh! thank God! thank God!’ cried + the young lady. Then she expressed to me her gratitude, with so happy, so + feeling an air, that I was quite touched by it. But suddenly, as if then + only she felt ashamed of the step she had taken, she let down her veil, + left me precipitately, went out of the court-yard, and got once more into + the hackney-coach that had brought her. I said to myself: ‘This is a + lady who takes great interest in M. Hardy, and has been alarmed by a false + report.”’ + </p> + <p> + “She loves him, doubtless,” said Mother Bunch, much moved, + “and, in her anxiety, she perhaps committed an act of imprudence, in + coming to inquire after him.” + </p> + <p> + “It is only too true. I saw her get into the coach with interests, + for her emotion had infected me. The coach started—and what did I + see a few seconds after? A cab, which the young lady could not have + perceived, for it had been hidden by an angle of the wall; and, as it + turned round the corner, I distinguished perfectly a man seated by the + driver’s side, and making signs to him to take the same road as the + hackney-coach.” + </p> + <p> + “The poor young lady was followed,” said Mother Bunch, + anxiously. + </p> + <p> + “No doubt of it; so I instantly hastened after the coach, reached + it, and through the blinds that were let down, I said to the young lady, + whilst I kept running by the side of the coach door: ‘Take care, + madame; you are followed by a cab. + </p> + <p> + “Well, Agricola! and what did she answer?” + </p> + <p> + “I heard her exclaim, ‘Great Heaven!’ with an accent of + despair. The coach continued its course. The cab soon came up with me; I + saw, by the side of the driver, a great, fat, ruddy man, who, having + watched me running after the coach, no doubt suspected something, for he + looked at me somewhat uneasily.” + </p> + <p> + “And when does M. Hardy return?” asked the hunchback. + </p> + <p> + “To-morrow, or the day after. Now, my good sister, advise me. It is + evident that this young lady loves M. Hardy. She is probably married, for + she looked so embarrassed when she spoke to me, and she uttered a cry of + terror on learning that she was followed. What shall I do? I wished to ask + advice of Father Simon, but he is so very strict in such matters—and + then a love affair, at his age!—while you are so delicate and + sensible, my good sister, that you will understand it all.” + </p> + <p> + The girl started, and smiled bitterly; Agricola did not perceive it, and + thus continued: “So I said to myself, ‘There is only Mother + Bunch, who can give me good advice.’ Suppose M. Hardy returns + to-morrow, shall I tell him what has passed or not?” + </p> + <p> + “Wait a moment,” cried the other, suddenly interrupting + Agricola, and appearing to recollect something; “when I went to St. + Mary’s Convent, to ask for work of the superior, she proposed that I + should be employed by the day, in a house in which I was to watch or, in + other words, to act as a spy—” + </p> + <p> + “What a wretch!” + </p> + <p> + “And do you know,” said the girl, “with whom I was to + begin this odious trade? Why, with a Madame de-Fremont, or de Bremont, I + do not remember which, a very religious woman, whose daughter, a young + married lady, received visits a great deal too frequent (according to the + superior) from a certain manufacturer.” + </p> + <p> + “What do you say?” cried Agricola. “This manufacturer + must be—” + </p> + <p> + “M. Hardy. I had too many reasons to remember that name, when it was + pronounced by the superior. Since that day, so many other events have + taken place, that I had almost forgotten the circumstance. But it is + probable that this young lady is the one of whom I heard speak at the + convent.” + </p> + <p> + “And what interest had the superior of the convent to set a spy upon + her?” asked the smith. + </p> + <p> + “I do not know; but it is clear that the same interest still exists, + since the young lady was followed, and perhaps, at this hour, is + discovered and dishonored. Oh! it is dreadful!” Then, seeing + Agricola start suddenly, Mother Bunch added: “What, then, is the + matter?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes—why not?” said the smith, speaking to himself; + “why may not all this be the work of the same hand? The superior of + a convent may have a private understanding with an abbe—but, then, + for what end?” + </p> + <p> + “Explain yourself, Agricola,” said the girl. “And then,—where + did you get your wound? Tell me that, I conjure you.” + </p> + <p> + “It is of my wound that I am just going to speak; for in truth, the + more I think of it, the more this adventure of the young lady seems to + connect itself with other facts.” + </p> + <p> + “How so?” + </p> + <p> + “You must know that, for the last few days, singular things are + passing in the neighborhood of our factory. First, as we are in Lent, an + abbe from Paris (a tall, fine-looking man, they say) has come to preach in + the little village of Villiers, which is only a quarter of a league from + our works. The abbe has found occasion to slander and attack M. Hardy in + his sermons.” + </p> + <p> + “How is that?” + </p> + <p> + “M. Hardy has printed certain rules with regard to our work, and the + rights and benefits he grants us. These rules are followed by various + maxims as noble as they are simple; with precepts of brotherly love such + as all the world can understand, extracted from different philosophies and + different religions. But because M. Hardy has chosen what is best in all + religions, the abbe concludes that M. Hardy has no religion at all, and he + has therefore not only attacked him for this in the pulpit, but has + denounced our factory as a centre of perdition and damnable corruption, + because, on Sundays, instead of going to listen to his sermons, or to + drink at a tavern, our comrades, with their wives and children, pass their + time in cultivating their little gardens, in reading, singing in chorus, + or dancing together in the common dwelling house. The abbe has even gone + so far as to say, that the neighborhood of such an assemblage of atheists, + as he calls us, might draw down the anger of Heaven upon the country—that + the hovering of Cholera was much talked of, and that very possibly, thanks + to our impious presence, the plague might fall upon all our neighborhood.” + </p> + <p> + “But to tell such things to ignorant people,” exclaimed Mother + Bunch, “is likely to excite them to fatal actions.” + </p> + <p> + “That is just what the abbe wants.” + </p> + <p> + “What do you tell me?” + </p> + <p> + “The people of the environs, still more excited, no doubt by other + agitators, show themselves hostile to the workmen of our factory. Their + hatred, or at least their envy, has been turned to account. Seeing us live + all together, well lodged, well warmed, and comfortably clad, active, gay, + and laborious, their jealousy has been embittered by the sermons, and by + the secret manoeuvres of some depraved characters, who are known to be bad + workmen, in the employment of M. Tripeaud, our opposition. All this + excitement is beginning to bear fruit; there have been already two or + three fights between us and our neighbors. It was in one of these + skirmishes that I received a blow with a stone on my head.” + </p> + <p> + “Is it not serious, Agricola?—are you quite sure?” said + Mother Bunch, anxiously. + </p> + <p> + “It is nothing at all, I tell you. But the enemies of M. Hardy have + not confined themselves to preaching. They have brought into play something + far more dangerous.” + </p> + <p> + “What is that?” + </p> + <p> + “I, and nearly all my comrades, did our part in the three + Revolutionary days of July; but we are not eager at present, for good + reasons, to take up arms again. That is not everybody’s opinion; + well, we do not blame others, but we have our own ideas; and Father Simon, + who is as brave as his son, and as good a patriot as any one, approves and + directs us. Now, for some days past, we find all about the factory, in the + garden, in the courts, printed papers to this effect: ‘You are + selfish cowards; because chance has given you a good master, you remain + indifferent to the misfortunes of your brothers, and to the means of + freeing them; material comforts have enervated your hearts.’” + </p> + <p> + “Dear me, Agricola! what frightful perseverance in wickedness!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes! and unfortunately these devices have their effect on some of + our younger mates. As the appeal was, after all, to proud and generous + sentiments, it has had some influence. Already, seeds of division have + shown themselves in our workshops, where, before, all were united as + brothers. A secret agitation now reigns there. Cold suspicion takes the + place, with some, of our accustomed cordiality. Now, if I tell you that I + am nearly sure these printed papers, thrown over the walls of our factory, + to raise these little sparks of discord amongst us, have been scattered + about by the emissaries of this same preaching abbe—would it not + seem from all this, taken in conjunction with what happened this morning + to the young lady, that M. Hardy has of late numerous enemies?” + </p> + <p> + “Like you, I think it very fearful, Agricola,” said the girl; + “and it is so serious, that M. Hardy alone can take a proper + decision on the subject. As for what happened this morning to the young + lady, it appears to me, that, immediately on M. Hardy’s return, you + should ask for an interview with him, and, however delicate such a + communication may be, tell him all that passed.” + </p> + <p> + “There is the difficulty. Shall I not seem as if wishing to pry into + his secrets?” + </p> + <p> + “If the young lady had not been followed, I should have shared your + scruples. But she was watched, and is evidently in danger. It is + therefore, in my opinion, your duty to warn M. Hardy. Suppose (which is + not improbable) that the lady is married; would it not be better, for a + thousand reasons, that M. Hardy should know all?” + </p> + <p> + “You are right, my good sister; I will follow your advice. M. Hardy + shall know everything. But now that we have spoken of others, I have to + speak of myself—yes, of myself—for it concerns a matter, on + which may depend the happiness of my whole life,” added the smith, + in a tone of seriousness, which struck his hearer. “You know,” + proceeded Agricola, after a moment’s silence, “that, from my + childhood, I have never concealed anything from you—that I have told + you everything—absolutely everything?” + </p> + <p> + “I know it, Agricola, I know it,” said the hunchback, + stretching out her white and slender hand to the smith, who grasped it + cordially, and thus continued: “When I say everything, I am not + quite exact—for I have always concealed from you my little + love-affairs—because, though we may tell almost anything to a + sister, there are subjects of which we ought not to speak to a good and + virtuous girl, such as you are.” + </p> + <p> + “I thank you, Agricola. I had remarked this reserve on your part,” + observed the other, casting down her eyes, and heroically repressing the + grief she felt; “I thank you.” + </p> + <p> + “But for the very reason, that I made it a duty never to speak to + you of such love affairs, I said to myself, if ever it should happen that + I have a serious passion—such a love as makes one think of marriage—oh! + then, just as we tell our sister even before our father and mother, my + good sister shall be the first to be informed of it.” + </p> + <p> + “You are very kind, Agricola.” + </p> + <p> + “Well then! the serious passion has come at last. I am over head and + ears in love, and I think of marriage.” + </p> + <p> + At these words of Agricola, poor Mother Bunch felt herself for an instant + paralyzed. It seemed as if all her blood was suddenly frozen in her veins. + For some seconds, she thought she was going to die. Her heart ceased to + beat; she felt it, not breaking, but melting away to nothing. Then, the + first blasting emotion over, like those martyrs who found, in the very + excitement of pain, the terrible power to smile in the midst of tortures, + the unfortunate girl found, in the fear of betraying the secret of her + fatal and ridiculous love, almost incredible energy. She raised her head, + looked at the smith calmly, almost serenely, and said to him in a firm + voice: “Ah! so, you truly love?” + </p> + <p> + “That is to say, my good sister, that, for the last four days, I + scarcely live at all—or live only upon this passion.” + </p> + <p> + “It is only since four days that you have been in love?” + </p> + <p> + “Not more—but time has nothing to do with it.” + </p> + <p> + “And is she very pretty?” + </p> + <p> + “Dark hair—the figure of a nymph—fair as a lily—blue + eyes, as large as that—and as mild, as good as your own.” + </p> + <p> + “You flatter me, Agricola.” + </p> + <p> + “No, no, it is Angela that I flatter—for that’s her + name. What a pretty one! Is it not, my good Mother Bunch?” + </p> + <p> + “A charming name,” said the poor girl, contrasting bitterly + that graceful appellation with her own nickname, which the thoughtless + Agricola applied to her without thinking of it. Then she resumed, with + fearful calmness: “Angela? yes, it is a charming name!” + </p> + <p> + “Well, then! imagine to yourself, that this name is not only suited + to her face, but to her heart. In a word, I believe her heart to be almost + equal to yours.” + </p> + <p> + “She has my eyes—she has my heart,” said Mother Bunch, + smiling. “It is singular, how like we are.” + </p> + <p> + Agricola did not perceive the irony of despair contained in these words. + He resumed, with a tenderness as sincere as it was inexorable: “Do + you think, my good girl, that I could ever have fallen seriously in love + with any one, who had not in character, heart, and mind, much of you?” + </p> + <p> + “Come, brother,” said the girl, smiling—yes, the + unfortunate creature had the strength to smile; “come, brother, you + are in a gallant vein to day. Where did you make the acquaintance of this + beautiful young person?” + </p> + <p> + “She is only the sister of one of my mates. Her mother is the head + laundress in our common dwelling, and as she was in want of assistance, + and we always take in preference the relations of members of the + association, Mrs. Bertin (that’s the mother’s name) sent for + her daughter from Lille, where she had been stopping with one of her + aunts, and, for the last five days, she has been in the laundry. The first + evening I saw her, I passed three hours, after work was over, in talking + with her, and her mother and brother; and the next day, I felt that my + heart was gone; the day after that, the feeling was only stronger—and + now I am quite mad about her, and resolved on marriage—according as + you shall decide. Do not be surprised at this; everything depends upon + you. I shall only ask my father and mother’s leave, after I have + yours.” + </p> + <p> + “I do not understand you, Agricola.” + </p> + <p> + “You know the utter confidence I have in the incredible instinct of + your heart. Many times, you have said to me: ‘Agricola, love this + person, love that person, have confidence in that other’—and + never yet were you deceived. Well! you must now render me the same + service. You will ask permission of Mdlle. de Cardoville to absent + yourself; I will take you to the factory: I have spoken of you to Mrs. + Benin and her daughter, as of a beloved sister; and, according to your + impression at sight of Angela, I will declare myself or not. This may be + childishness, or superstition, on my part; but I am so made.” + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:65%;"> + <img src="images/20437m.jpg" alt="20437m” width=" /><br /> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/20437.jpg"><i>Original</i></a> + </h5> + <p> + “Be it so,” answered Mother Bunch, with heroic courage; + “I will see Mdlle. Angela; I will tell you what I think of her—and + that, mind you, sincerely.” + </p> + <p> + “I know it. When will you come?” + </p> + <p> + “I must ask Mdlle. de Cardoville what day she can spare sue. I will + let you know.” + </p> + <p> + “Thanks, my good sister!” said Agricola warmly; then he added, + with a smile: “Bring your best judgment with you—your full + dress judgment.” + </p> + <p> + “Do not make a jest of it, brother,” said Mother Bunch, in a + mild, sad voice; “it is a serious matter, for it concerns the + happiness of your whole life.” + </p> + <p> + At this moment, a modest knock was heard at the door. “Come in,” + said Mother Bunch. Florine appeared. + </p> + <p> + “My mistress begs that you will come to her, if you are not engaged,” + said Florine to Mother Bunch. + </p> + <p> + The latter rose, and, addressing the smith, said to him: “Please + wait a moment, Agricola. I will ask Mdlle. de Cardoville what day I can + dispose of, and I will come and tell you.” So saying, the girl went + out, leaving Agricola with Florine. + </p> + <p> + “I should have much wished to pay my respects to Mdlle. de + Cardoville,” said Agricola; “but I feared to intrude.” + </p> + <p> + “My lady is not quite well, sir,” said Florine, “and + receives no one to day. I am sure, that as soon as she is better, she will + be quite pleased to see you.” + </p> + <p> + Here Mother Bunch returned, and said to Agricola: “If you can come + for me to-morrow, about three o’clock, so as not to lose the whole + day, we will go to the factory, and you can bring me back in the evening.” + </p> + <p> + “Then, at three o’clock to-morrow, my good sister.” + </p> + <p> + “At three to-morrow, Agricola.” + </p> + <p> + The evening of that same day, when all was quiet in the hotel, Mother + Bunch, who had remained till ten o’clock with Mdlle. de Cardoville, + re entered her bedchamber, locked the door after her, and finding herself + at length free and unrestrained, threw herself on her knees before a + chair, and burst into tears. She wept long—very long. When her tears + at length ceased to flow, she dried her eyes, approached the writing-desk, + drew out one of the boxes from the pigeonhole, and, taking from this + hiding-place the manuscript which Florine had so rapidly glanced over the + evening before, she wrote in it during a portion of the night. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0099" id="link2HCH0099"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XLVI. MOTHER BUNCH’S DIARY. + </h2> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">W</span>e have said that + the hunchback wrote during a portion of the night, in the book discovered + the previous evening by Florine, who had not ventured to take it away, + until she had informed the persons who employed her of its contents, and + until she had received their final orders on the subject. Let us explain + the existence of this manuscript, before opening it to the reader. The day + on which Mother Bunch first became aware of her love for Agricola, the + first word of this manuscript had been written. Endowed with an + essentially trusting character, yet always feeling herself restrained by + the dread of ridicule—a dread which, in its painful exaggeration, + was the workgirl’s only weakness—to whom could the unfortunate + creature have confided the secret of that fatal passion, if not to paper—that + mute confidant of timid and suffering souls, that patient friend, silent + and cold, who, if it makes no reply to heart rending complaints, at least + always listens, and never forgets? + </p> + <p> + When her heart was overflowing with emotion, sometimes mild and sad, + sometimes harsh and bitter, the poor workgirl, finding a melancholy charm + in these dumb and solitary outpourings of the soul, now clothed in the + form of simple and touching poetry, and now in unaffected prose, had + accustomed herself by degrees not to confine her confidences to what + immediately related to Agricola, for though he might be mixed up with all + her thoughts, for reflections, which the sight of beauty, of happy love, + of maternity, of wealth, of misfortune, called up within her, were so + impressed with the influence of her unfortunate personal position, that + she would not even have dared to communicate them to him. Such, then, was + this journal of a poor daughter of the people, weak, deformed, and + miserable, but endowed with an angelic soul, and a fine intellect, + improved by reading, meditation, and solitude; pages quite unknown, which + yet contained many deep and striking views, both as regard men and things, + taken from the peculiar standpoint in which fate had placed this + unfortunate creature. The following lines, here and there abruptly + interrupted or stained with tears, according to the current of her various + emotions, on hearing of Agricola’s deep love for Angela, formed the + last pages of this journal: + </p> + <p> + “Friday, March 3d, 1832. + </p> + <p> + “I spent the night without any painful dreams. This morning, I rose + with no sorrowful presentiment. I was calm and tranquil when Agricola + came. He did not appear to me agitated. He was simple and affectionate as + he always is. He spoke to me of events relating to M. Hardy, and then, + without transition, without hesitation, he said to me: ‘The last + four days I have been desperately in love. The sentiment is so serious, + that I think of marriage. I have come to consult you about it.’ That + was how this overwhelming revelation was made to me—naturally and + cordially—I on one side of the hearth, and Agricola an the other, as + if we had talked of indifferent things. And yet no more is needed to break + one’s heart. Some one enters, embraces you like a brother, sits + down, talks—and then—Oh! Merciful heaven! my head wanders. + </p> + <p> + “I feel calmer now. Courage, my poor heart, courage!—Should a + day of misfortune again overwhelm me, I will read these lines written + under the impression of the most cruel grief I can ever feel, and I will + say to myself: ‘What is the present woe compared to that past?’ + My grief is indeed cruel! it is illegitimate, ridiculous, shameful: I + should not dare to confess it, even to the most indulgent of mothers. + Alas! there are some fearful sorrows, which yet rightly make men shrug + their shoulders in pity or contempt. Alas! these are forbidden + misfortunes. Agricola has asked me to go to-morrow, to see this young girl + to whom he is so passionately attached, and whom he will marry, if the + instinct of my heart should approve the marriage. This thought is the most + painful of all those which have tortured me since he so pitilessly + announced this love. Pitilessly? No, Agricola—no, my brother—forgive + me this unjust cry of pain! Is it that you know, can even suspect, that I + love you better than you love, better than you can ever love, this + charming creature? + </p> + <p> + “‘Dark-haired—the figure of a nymph—fair as a lily—with + blue eyes—as large as that—and almost as mild as your own.’ + </p> + <p> + “That is the portrait he drew of her. Poor Agricola! how would he + have suffered, had he known that every one of his words was tearing my + heart. Never did I so strongly feel the deep commiseration and tender + pity, inspired by a good, affectionate being, who, in the sincerity of his + ignorance, gives you your death-wound with a smile. We do not blame him—no—we + pity him to the full extent of the grief that he would feel on learning + the pain he had caused me. It is strange! but never did Agricola appear to + me more handsome than this morning. His manly countenance was slightly + agitated, as he spoke of the uneasiness of that pretty young lady. As I + listened to him describing the agony of a woman who runs the risk of ruin + for the man she loves, I felt my heart beat violently, my hands were + burning, a soft languor floated over me—Ridiculous folly! As if I + had any right to feel thus! + </p> + <p> + “I remember that, while he spoke, I cast a rapid glance at the + glass. I felt proud that I was so well dressed; he had not even remarked + it; but no matter—it seemed to me that my cap became me, that my + hair shone finely, my gaze beamed mild—I found Agricola so handsome, + that I almost began to think myself less ugly—no doubt, to excuse + myself in my own eyes for daring to love him. After all, what happened + to-day would have happened one day or another! Yes, that is consoling—like + the thoughts that death is nothing, because it must come at last—to + those who are in love with life! I have been always preserved from suicide—the + last resource of the unfortunate, who prefer trusting in God to remaining + amongst his creatures—by the sense of duty. One must not only think + of self. And I reflected also’God is good—always good—since + the most wretched beings find opportunities for love and devotion.’ + How is it that I, so weak and poor, have always found means to be helpful + and useful to some one? + </p> + <p> + “This very day I felt tempted to make an end with life—Agricola + and his mother had no longer need of me.—Yes, but the unfortunate + creatures whom Mdlle. de Cardoville has commissioned me to watch over?—but + my benefactress herself, though she has affectionately reproached me with + the tenacity of my suspicions in regard to that man? I am more than ever + alarmed for her—I feel that she is more than ever in danger—more + than ever—I have faith in the value of my presence near her. Hence, + I must live. Live—to go to-morrow to see this girl, whom Agricola + passionately loves? Good heaven! why have I always known grief, and never + hate? There must be a bitter pleasure in hating. So many people hate!—Perhaps + I may hate this girl—Angela, as he called her, when he said, with so + much simplicity: ‘A charming name, is it not, Mother Bunch?’ + Compare this name, which recalls an idea so full of grace, with the + ironical symbol of my witch’s deformity! Poor Agricola! poor + brother! goodness is sometimes as blind as malice, I see. Should I hate + this young girl?—Why? Did she deprive me of the beauty which charms + Agricola? Can I find fault with her for being beautiful? When I was not + yet accustomed to the consequences of my ugliness, I asked myself, with + bitter curiosity, why the Creator had endowed his creatures so unequally. + The habit of pain has allowed me to reflect calmly, and I have finished by + persuading myself, that to beauty and ugliness are attached the two most + noble emotions of the soul—admiration and compassion. Those who are + like me admire beautiful persons—such as Angela, such as Agricola—and + these in their turn feel a couching pity for such as I am. Sometimes, in + spite of one’s self, one has very foolish hopes. Because Agricola, + from a feeling of propriety had never spoken to me of his love affairs, I + sometimes persuaded myself that he had none—that he loved me, and + that the fear of ridicule alone was with him, as with me, an obstacle in + the way of confessing it. Yes, I have even made verses on that subject—and + those, I think, not the worst I have written. + </p> + <p> + “Mine is a singular position! If I love, I am ridiculous; if any + love me, he is still more ridiculous. How did I come so to forget that, as + to have suffered and to suffer what I do?—But blessed be that + suffering, since it has not engendered hate—no; for I will not hate + this girl—I will Perform a sister’s part to the last; I will + follow the guidance of my heart; I have the instinct of preserving others—my + heart will lead and enlighten me. My only fear is, that I shall burst into + tears when I see her, and not be able to conquer my emotion. Oh, then! + what a revelation to Agricola—a discovery of the mad love he has + inspired!—Oh, never! the day in which he knew that would be the last + of my life. There would then be within me something stronger than duty—the + longing to escape from shame—that incurable shame, that burns me + like a hot iron. No, no; I will be calm. Besides, did I not just now, when + with him bear courageously a terrible trial? I will be calm. My personal + feelings must not darken the second sight, so clear for those I love. Oh! + painful—painful task! for the fear of yielding involuntarily to evil + sentiments must not render me too indulgent toward this girl. I might + compromise Agricola’s happiness, since my decision is to guide his + choice. Poor creature that I am. How I deceive myself! Agricola asks my + advice, because he thinks that I shall have not the melancholy courage to + oppose his passion; or else he would say to me: ‘No matter—I + love; and I brave the future!’ + </p> + <p> + “But then, if my advice, if the instincts of my heart, are not to + guide him—if his resolution is taken beforehand—of what use + will be to morrow’s painful mission? Of what use? To obey him. Did + he not say—‘Come!’ In thinking of my devotion for him, + how many times, in the secret depths of my heart, I have asked myself if + the thought had ever occurred to him to love me otherwise than as a + sister; if it had ever struck him, what a devoted wife he would have in + me! And why should it have occurred to him? As long as he wished, as long + as he may still wish, I have been, and I shall be, as devoted to him, as + if I were his wife, sister, or mother. Why should he desire what he + already possesses? + </p> + <p> + “Married to him—oh, God!—the dream is mad as ineffable. + Are not such thoughts of celestial sweetness—which include all + sentiments from sisterly to maternal love—forbidden to me, on pain + of ridicule as distressing as if I wore dresses and ornaments, that my + ugliness and deformity would render absurd? I wonder, if I were now + plunged into the most cruel distress, whether I should suffer as much as I + do, on hearing of Agricola’s intended marriage? Would hunger, cold, + or misery diminish this dreadful dolor?—or is it the dread pain that + would make me forget hunger, cold, and misery? + </p> + <p> + “No, no; this irony is bitter. It is not well in me to speak thus. + Why such deep grief? In what way have the affection, the esteem, the + respect of Agricola, changed towards me? I complain—but how would it + be, kind heaven! if, as, alas! too often happens, I were beautiful, + loving, devoted, and he had chosen another, less beautiful, less loving, + less devoted?—Should I not be a thousand times more unhappy? for + then I might, I would have to blame him—whilst now I can find no + fault with him, for never having thought of a union which was impossible, + because ridiculous. And had he wished it, could I ever have had the + selfishness to consent to it? I began to write the first pages of this + diary as I began these last, with my heart steeped in bitterness—and + as I went on, committing to paper what I could have intrusted to no one, + my soul grew calm, till resignation came—Resignation, my chosen + saint, who, smiling through her tears, suffers and loves, but hopes—never!” + </p> + <p> + These word’s were the last in the journal. It was clear, from the + blots of abundant tears, that the unfortunate creature had often paused to + weep. + </p> + <p> + In truth, worn out by so many emotions, Mother Bunch late in the night, + had replaced the book behind the cardboard box, not that she thought it + safer there than elsewhere (she had no suspicion of the slightest need for + such precaution), but because it was more out of the way there than in any + of the drawers, which she frequently opened in presence of other people. + Determined to perform her courageous promise, and worthily accomplish her + task to the end, she waited the next day for Agricola, and firm in her + heroic resolution, went with the smith to M. Hardy’s factory. + Florine, informed of her departure, but detained a portion of the day in + attendance on Mdlle. de Cardoville preferred waiting for night to perform + the new orders she had asked and received, since she had communicated by + letter the contents of Mother Bunch’s journal. Certain not to be + surprised, she entered the workgirls’ chamber, as soon as the night + was come. + </p> + <p> + Knowing the place where she should find the manuscript, she went straight + to the desk, took out the box, and then, drawing from her pocket a sealed + letter, prepared to leave it in the place of the manuscript, which she was + to carry away with her. So doing, she trembled so much, that she was + obliged to support herself an instant by the table. Every good sentiment + was not extinct in Florine’s heart; she obeyed passively the orders + she received, but she felt painfully how horrible and infamous was her + conduct. If only herself had been concerned, she would no doubt have had + the courage to risk all, rather than submit to this odious despotism; but + unfortunately, it was not so, and her ruin would have caused the mortal + despair of another person whom she loved better than life itself. She + resigned herself, therefore, not without cruel anguish, to abominable + treachery. + </p> + <p> + Though she hardly ever knew for what end she acted, and this was + particularly the case with regard to the abstraction of the journal, she + foresaw vaguely, that the substitution of this sealed letter for the + manuscript would have fatal consequences for Mother Bunch, for she + remembered Rodin’s declaration, that “it was time to finish + with the young sempstress.” + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:65%;"> + <img src="images/20445m.jpg" alt="20445m” width=" /><br /> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/20445.jpg"><i>Original</i></a> + </h5> + <p> + What did he mean by those words? How would the letter that she was charged + to put in the place of the diary, contribute to bring about this result? + she did not know—but she understood that the clear-sighted devotion + of the hunchback justly alarmed the enemies of Mdlle. de Cardoville, and + that she (Florine) herself daily risked having her perfidy detected by the + young needlewoman. This last fear put an end to the hesitations of + Florine; she placed the letter behind the box, and, hiding the manuscript + under her apron, cautiously withdrew from the chamber. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0100" id="link2HCH0100"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XLVII. THE DIARY CONTINUED. + </h2> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">R</span>eturned into her + own room, some hours after she had concealed there the manuscript + abstracted from Mother Bunch’s apartment, Florine yielded to her + curiosity, and determined to look through it. She soon felt a growing + interest, an involuntary emotion, as she read more of these private + thoughts of the young sempstress. Among many pieces of verse, which all + breathed a passionate love for Agricola—a love so deep, simple, and + sincere, that Florine was touched by it, and forgot the author’s + deformity—among many pieces of verse, we say, were divers other + fragments, thoughts, and narratives, relating to a variety of facts. We + shall quote some of them, in order to explain the profound impression that + their perusal made upon Florine. + </p> + <p> + Fragments from the Diary. + </p> + <p> + “This is my birthday. Until this evening, I had cherished a foolish + hope. Yesterday, I went down to Mrs. Baudoin’s, to dress a little + wound she had on her leg. When I entered the room, Agricola was there. No + doubt he was talking of me to his mother, for they stopped when I came in, + and exchanged a meaning smile. In passing by the drawers, I saw a + pasteboard box, with a pincushion-lid, and I felt myself blushing with + joy, as I thought this little present was destined for me, but I pretended + not to see it. While I was on my knees before his mother, Agricola went + out. I remarked that he took the little box with him. Never has Mrs. + Baudoin been more tender and motherly than she was that morning. It + appeared to me that she went to bed earlier than usual. ‘It is to + send me away sooner,’ said I to myself, ‘that I may enjoy the + surprise Agricola has prepared for me.’ How my heart beat, as I ran + fast, very fast, up to my closet! I stopped a moment before opening the + door, that my happiness might last the longer. At last I entered the room, + my eyes swimming with tears of joy. I looked upon my table, my chair, my + bed—there was nothing. The little box was not to be found. My heart + sank within me. Then I said to myself: ‘It will be to-morrow—this + is only the eve of my birthday.’ The day is gone. Evening is come. + Nothing. The pretty box was not for me. It had a pincushion-cover. It was + only suited for a woman. To whom has Agricola given it? + </p> + <p> + “I suffer a good deal just now. It was a childish idea that I + connected with Agricola’s wishing me many happy returns of the day. + I am ashamed to confess it; but it might have proved to me, that he has + not forgotten I have another name besides that of Mother Bunch, which they + always apply to me. My susceptibility on this head is unfortunately so + stubborn, that I cannot help feeling a momentary pang of mingled shame and + sorrow, every time that I am called by that fairy-tale name, and yet I + have had no other from infancy. It is for that very reason that I should + have been so happy if Agricola had taken this opportunity to call me for + once by my own humble name—Magdalen. Happily, he will never know + these wishes and regrets!” + </p> + <p> + Deeper and deeper touched by this page of simple grief, Florine turned + over several leaves, and continued: + </p> + <p> + “I have just been to the funeral of poor little Victorine Herbin, + our neighbor. Her father, a journeyman upholsterer, is gone to work by the + month, far from Paris. She died at nineteen, without a relation near her. + Her agony was not long. The good woman who attended her to the last, told + us that she only pronounced these words: ‘At last, oh at last!’ + and that with an air of satisfaction, added the nurse. Dear child! she had + become so pitiful. At fifteen, she was a rosebud—so pretty, so + fresh-looking, with her light hair as soft as silk; but she wasted away by + degrees—her trade of renovating mattresses killed her. She was + slowly poisoned by the emanations from the wool.(26) They were all the + worse, that she worked almost entirely for the poor, who have cheap stuff + to lie upon. + </p> + <p> + “She had the courage of a lion, and an angel’s resignation, + She always said to me, in her low, faint voice, broken by a dry and + frequent cough: ‘I have not long to live, breathing, as I do, lime + and vitriol all day long. I spit blood, and have spasms that make me + faint.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Why not change your trade?’ have I said to her. + </p> + <p> + “‘Where will I find the time to make another apprenticeship?’ + she would answer; ‘and it is now too late. I feel that I am done + for. It is not my fault,’ added the good creature, ‘for I did + not choose my employment. My father would have it so; luckily he can do + without me. And then, you see, when one is dead, one cares for nothing, + and has no fear of “slop wages.”’ + </p> + <p> + “Victorine uttered that sad, common phrase very sincerely, and with + a sort of satisfaction. Therefore she died repeating: ‘At last!’ + </p> + <p> + “It is painful to think that the labor by which the poor man earns + his daily bread, often becomes a long suicide! I said this the other day + to Agricola; he answered me that there were many other fatal employments; + those who prepare aquafortis, white lead, or minium, for instance, are + sure to take incurable maladies of which they die. + </p> + <p> + “‘Do you know,’ added Agricola, ‘what they say + when they start for those fatal works?’—Why, ‘We are + going to the slaughter-house.’ + </p> + <p> + “That made me tremble with its terrible truth. + </p> + <p> + “‘And all this takes place in our day,’ said I to him, + with an aching heart; ‘and it is well-known. And, out of so many of + the rich and powerful, no one thinks of the mortality which decimates his + brothers, thus forced to eat homicidal bread!’ + </p> + <p> + “‘What can you expect, my poor sister,’ answered + Agricola. ‘When men are to be incorporated, that they may get killed + in war, all pains are taken with them. But when they are to be organized, + so as to live in peace, no one cares about it, except M. Hardy, my master. + People say, ‘Pooh! hunger, misery, and suffering of the laboring + classes—what is that to us? that is not politics.’ ‘They + are wrong,’ added Agricola; ‘IT IS MORE THAN POLITICS.’ + </p> + <p> + “As Victorine had not left anything to pay for the church service, + there was only the presentation of the body under the porch; for there is + not even a plain mass for the poor. Besides, as they could not give + eighteen francs to the curate, no priest accompanied the pauper’s + coffin to the common grave. If funerals, thus abridged and cut short, are + sufficient in a religious point of view, why invent other and longer + forms? Is it from cupidity?—If, on the other hand, they are not + sufficient, why make the poor man the only victim of this insufficiency? + But why trouble ourselves about the pomp, the incense, the chants, of + which they are either too sparing or too liberal? Of what use? and for + what purpose? They are vain, terrestrial things, for which the soul recks + nothing, when, radiant, it ascends towards its Creator. Yesterday, + Agricola made me read an article in a newspaper, in which violent blame + and bitter irony are by turns employed, to attack what they call the + baneful tendencies of some of the lower orders, to improve themselves, to + write, to read the poets, and sometimes to make verses. Material + enjoyments are forbidden us by poverty. Is it humane to reproach us for + seeking the enjoyments of the mind? What harm can it do any one if every + evening, after a day’s toil, remote from all pleasure, I amuse + myself, unknown to all, in making a few verses, or in writing in this + journal the good or bad impressions I have received? Is Agricola the worse + workman, because, on returning home to his mother, he employs Sunday in + composing some of those popular songs, which glorify the fruitful labors + of the artisan, and say to all, Hope and brotherhood! Does he not make a + more worthy use of his time than if he spent it in a tavern? Ah! those who + blame us for these innocent and noble diversions, which relieve our + painful toils and sufferings, deceive themselves when they think, that, in + proportion as the intellect is raised and refined, it is more difficult to + bear with privations and misery, and that so the irritation increases + against the luckier few. + </p> + <p> + “Admitting even this to be the case—and it is not so—is + it not better to have an intelligent, enlightened enemy, to whose heart + and reason you may address yourself, than a stupid, ferocious, implacable + foe? But no; enmities disappear as the mind becomes enlightened, and the + horizon of compassion extends itself. We thus learn to understand moral + afflictions. We discover that the rich also have to suffer intense pains, + and that brotherhood in misfortune is already a link of sympathy. Alas! + they also have to mourn bitterly for idolized children, beloved + mistresses, reverend mothers; with them, also, especially amongst the + women, there are, in the height of luxury and grandeur, many broken + hearts, many suffering souls, many tears shed in secret. Let them not be + alarmed. By becoming their equals in intelligence, the people will learn + to pity the rich, if good and unhappy—and to pity them still more if + rejoicing in wickedness. + </p> + <p> + “What happiness! what a joyful day! I am giddy with delight. Oh, + truly, man is good, humane, charitable. Oh, yes! the Creator has implanted + within him every generous instinct—and, unless he be a monstrous + exception, he never does evil willingly. Here is what I saw just now. I + will not wait for the evening to write it down, for my heart would, as it + were, have time to cool. I had gone to carry home some work that was + wanted in a hurry. I was passing the Place du Temple. A few steps from me + I saw a child, about twelve years old at most, with bare head, and feet, + in spite of the severe weather, dressed in a shabby, ragged smock frock + and trousers, leading by the bridle a large cart-horse, with his harness + still on. From time to time the horse stopped short, and refused to + advance. The child, who had no whip, tugged in vain at the bridle. The + horse remained motionless. Then the poor little fellow cried out: ‘O + dear, O dear!’ and began to weep bitterly, looking round him as if + to implore the assistance of the passers-by. His dear little face was + impressed with so heart piercing a sorrow, that, without reflecting, I + made an attempt at which I can now only smile, I must have presented so + grotesque a figure. I am horribly afraid of horses, and I am still more + afraid of exposing myself to public gaze. Nevertheless, I took courage, + and, having an umbrella in my hand, I approached the horse, and with the + impetuosity of an ant that strives to move a large stone with a little + piece of straw, I struck with all my strength on the croup of the + rebellious animal. ‘Oh, thanks, my good lady!’ exclaimed the + child, drying his eyes: ‘hit him again, if you please. Perhaps he + will get up.’ + </p> + <p> + “I began again, heroically; but, alas! either from obstinacy or + laziness, the horse bent his knees, and stretched himself out upon the + ground; then, getting entangled with his harness, he tore it, and broke + his great wooden collar. I had drawn back quickly, for fear of receiving a + kick. Upon this new disaster, the child could only throw himself on his + knees in the middle of the street, clasping his hands and sobbing, and + exclaiming in a voice of despair: ‘Help! help!’ + </p> + <p> + “The call was heard; several of the passers-by gathered round, and a + more efficacious correction than mine was administered to the restive + horse, who rose in a vile state, and without harness. + </p> + <p> + “‘My master will beat me,’ cried the poor child, as his + tears redoubled; ‘I am already two hours after time, for the horse + would not go, and now he has broken his harness. My master will beat me, + and turn me away. Oh dear! what will become of me! I have no father nor + mother.’ + </p> + <p> + “At these words, uttered with a heart-rending accent, a worthy old + clothes-dealer of the Temple, who was amongst the spectators, exclaimed, + with a kindly air: ‘No father nor mother! Do not grieve so, my poor + little fellow; the Temple can supply everything. We will mend the harness, + and, if my gossips are like me, you shall not go away bareheaded or + barefooted in such weather as this.’ + </p> + <p> + “This proposition was greeted with acclamation; they led away both + horse and child; some were occupied in mending the harness, then one + supplied a cap, another a pair of stockings, another some shoes, and + another a good jacket; in a quarter of an hour the child was warmly clad, + the harness repaired, and a tall lad of eighteen, brandishing a whip, + which he cracked close to the horse’s ears, by way of warning, said + to the little boy, who, gazing first at his new clothes, and then at the + good woman, believed himself the hero of a fairy-tale. ‘Where does + your governor live, little ‘un?’ + </p> + <p> + “‘On the Quai du Canal-Saint-Martin, sir,’ answered he, + in a voice trembling with joy. + </p> + <p> + “‘Very good,’ said the young man, ‘I will help you + take home the horse, who will go well enough with me, and I will tell the + master that the delay was no fault of your’n. A balky horse ought + not to be trusted to a child of your age.’ + </p> + <p> + “At the moment of setting out, the poor little fellow said timidly + to the good dame, as he took off his cap to her: ‘Will you let me + kiss you, ma’am?’ + </p> + <p> + “His eyes were full of tears of gratitude. There was heart in that + child. This scene of popular charity gave me delightful emotions. As long + as I could, I followed with my eyes the tall young man and the child, who + now could hardly keep up with the pace of the horse, rendered suddenly + docile by fear of the whip. + </p> + <p> + “Yes! I repeat it with pride; man is naturally good and helpful. + Nothing could have been more spontaneous than this movement of pity and + tenderness in the crowd, when the poor little fellow exclaimed: ‘What + will become of me? I have no father or mother!’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Unfortunate child!’ said I to myself. ‘No father + nor mother. In the hands of a brutal master, who hardly covers him with a + few rags, and ill treats him into the bargain. Sleeping, no doubt in the + corner of a stable. Poor little, fellow! and yet so mild and good, in + spite of misery and misfortune. I saw it—he was even more grateful + than pleased at the service done him. But perhaps this good natural + disposition, abandoned without support or counsel, or help, and + exasperated by bad treatment, may become changed and embittered—and + then will come the age of the passions—the bad temptations—’ + </p> + <p> + “Oh! in the deserted poor, virtue is doubly saintly and respectable! + </p> + <p> + “This morning, after having (as usual) gently reproached me for not + going to mass, Agricola’s mother said to me these words, so touching + in her simple and believing mouth, ‘Luckily, I pray for you and + myself too, my poor girl; the good God will hear me, and you will only go, + I hope, to Purgatory.’ + </p> + <p> + “Good mother; angelic soul! she spoke those words in so grave and + mild a tone, with so strong a faith in the happy result of her pious + intercession, that I felt my eyes become moist, and I threw myself on her + neck, as sincerely grateful as if I had believed in Purgatory. This day + has been a lucky one for me. I hope I have found work, which luck I shall + owe to a young person full of heart and goodness, she is to take me + to-morrow to St. Mary’s Convent, where she thinks she can find me + employment.” + </p> + <p> + Florine, already much moved by the reading, started at this passage in + which Mother Bunch alluded to her, ere she continued as follows: + </p> + <p> + “Never shall I forget with what touching interest, what delicate + benevolence, this handsome young girl received me, so poor, and so + unfortunate. It does not astonish me, for she is attached to the person of + Mdlle. de Cardoville. She must be worthy to reside with Agricola’s + benefactress. It will always be dear and pleasant to me to remember her + name. It is graceful and pretty as her face; it is Florine. I am nothing, + I have nothing—but if the fervent prayers of a grateful heart might + be heard, Mdlle. Florine would be happy, very happy. Alas! I am reduced to + say prayers for her—only prayers—for I can do nothing but + remember and love her!” + </p> + <p> + These lines, expressing so simply the sincere gratitude of the hunchback, + gave the last blow to Florine’s hesitations. She could no longer + resist the generous temptation she felt. As she read these last fragments + of the journal, her affection and respect for Mother Bunch made new + progress. More than ever she felt how infamous it was in her to expose to + sarcasms and contempt the most secret thoughts of this unfortunate + creature. Happily, good is often as contagious as evil. Electrified by all + that was warm, noble, and magnanimous in the pages she had just read, + Florine bathed her failing virtue in that pure and vivifying source, and, + yielding, at last to one of those good impulses which sometimes carried + her away, she left the room with the manuscript in her hand, determined, + if Mother Bunch had not yet returned, to replace it—resolved to tell + Rodin that, this second time, her search for the journal had been vain, + the sempstress having no doubt discovered the first attempt. + </p> + <p> + (26) In the Ruche Populaire, a working man’s organ, are the + following particulars: + </p> + <p> + “Carding Mattresses.—The dust which flies out of the wool + makes carding destructive to health in any case, but trade adulterations + enhance the danger. In sticking sheep, the skin gets blood-spotted; it has + to be bleached to make it salable. Lime is the main whitener, and some of + it clings to the wool after the process. The dresser (female, most often) + breathes in the fine dust, and, by lung and other complaints, is far from + seldom deplorably situated; the majority sicken of it and give up the + trade, while those who keep to it, at the very least, suffer with a + catarrh or asthma that torments them until death. + </p> + <p> + “As for horsehair, the very best is not pure. You can judge what the + inferior quality is, from the workgirls calling it vitriol hair, because + it is the refuse or clippings from goats and swine, washed in vitriol, + boiled in dyes, etc., to burn and disguise such foreign bodies as straw. + thorns, splinters, and even bits of skin, not worth picking out. The dust + rising when a mass of this is beaten, makes as many ravages as the + lime-wool.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0101" id="link2HCH0101"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XLVIII. THE DISCOVERY. + </h2> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">A</span> little while + before Florine made up her mind to atone for her shameful breach of + confidence, Mother Bunch had returned from the factory, after + accomplishing to the end her painful task. After a long interview with + Angela, struck, like Agricola, with the ingenuous grace, sense, and + goodness, with which the young girl was endowed, Mother Bunch had the + courageous frankness to advise the smith to enter into this marriage. The + following scene took place whilst Florine, still occupied in reading the + journal, had not yet taken the praiseworthy resolution of replacing it. It + was ten o’clock at night. The workgirl, returned to Cardoville + House, had just entered her chamber. Worn out by so many emotions, she had + thrown herself into a chair. The deepest silence reigned in the house. It + was now and then interrupted by the soughing of a high wind, which raged + without and shook the trees in the garden. A single candle lighted the + room, which was papered with dark green. That peculiar tint, and the + hunchback’s black dress, increased her apparent paleness. Seated in + an arm-chair by the side of the fire, with her head resting upon her + bosom, her hands crossed upon her knees, the work-girl’s countenance + was melancholy and resigned; on it was visible the austere satisfaction + which is felt by the consciousness of a duty well performed. + </p> + <p> + Like all those who, brought up in the merciless school of misfortune, no + longer exaggerate the sentiment of sorrow, too familiar and assiduous a + guest to be treated as a stranger, Mother Bunch was incapable of long + yielding to idle regrets and vain despair, with regard to what was already + past. Beyond doubt, the blow had been sudden, dreadful; doubtless it must + leave a long and painful remembrance in the sufferer’s soul; but it + was soon to pass, as it were, into that chronic state of pain-durance, + which had become almost an integral part of her life. And then this noble + creature, so indulgent to fate, found still some consolations in the + intensity of her bitter pain. She had been deeply touched by the marks of + affection shown her by Angela, Agricola’s intended: and she had felt + a species of pride of the heart, in perceiving with what blind confidence, + with what ineffable joy, the smith accepted the favorable presentiments + which seemed to consecrate his happiness. Mother Bunch also said to + herself: “At least, henceforth I shall not be agitated by hopes, or + rather by suppositions as ridiculous as they were senseless. Agricola’s + marriage puts a term to all the miserable reveries of my poor head.” + </p> + <p> + Finally, she found a real and deep consolation in the certainty that she + had been able to go through this terrible trial, and conceal from Agricola + the love she felt for him. We know how formidable to this unfortunate + being were those ideas of ridicule and shame, which she believed would + attach to the discovery of her mad passion. After having remained for some + time absorbed in thought, Mother Bunch rose, and advanced slowly towards + the desk. + </p> + <p> + “My only recompense,” said she, as she prepared the materials + for writing, “will be to entrust the mute witness of my pains with + this new grief. I shall at least have kept the promise that I made to + myself. Believing, from the bottom of my soul, that this girl is able to + make Agricola happy, I told him so with the utmost sincerity. One day, a + long time hence, when I shall read over these pages, I shall perhaps find + in that a compensation for all that I now suffer.” + </p> + <p> + So saying, she drew the box from the pigeon-hole. Not finding her + manuscript, she uttered a cry of surprise; but, what was her alarm, when + she perceived a letter to her address in the place of the journal! She + became deadly pale; her knees trembled; she almost fainted away. But her + increasing terror gave her a fictitious energy, and she had the strength + to break the seal. A bank-note for five hundred francs fell from the + letter on the table, and Mother Bunch read as follows: + </p> + <p> + “Mademoiselle,—There is something so original and amusing in + reading in your memoirs the story of your love for Agricola, that it is + impossible to resist the pleasure of acquainting him with the extent of + it, of which he is doubtless ignorant, but to which he cannot fail to show + himself sensible. Advantage will be taken to forward it to a multitude of + other persons, who might, perhaps, otherwise be unfortunately deprived of + the amusing contents of your diary. Should copies and extracts not be + sufficient, we will have it printed, as one cannot too much diffuse such + things. Some will weep—others will laugh—what appears superb + to one set of people, will seem ridiculous to another, such is life—but + your journal will surely make a great sensation. As you are capable of + wishing to avoid your triumph, and as you were only covered with rags when + you were received, out of charity into this house, where you wish to + figure as the great lady, which does not suit your shape for more reasons + than one, we enclose in the present five hundred francs to pay for your + day-book, and prevent your being without resources, in case you should be + modest enough to shrink from the congratulations which await you, certain + to overwhelm you by to-morrow, for, at this hour, your journal is already + in circulation. + </p> + <p> + “One of your brethren, + </p> + <p> + “A REAL MOTHER BUNCH.” + </p> + <p> + The vulgar, mocking, and insolent tone of this letter, which was purposely + written in the character of a jealous lackey, dissatisfied with the + admission of the unfortunate creature into the house, had been calculated + with infernal skill and was sure to produce the effect intended. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, good heaven!” were the only words the unfortunate girl + could pronounce, in her stupor and alarm. + </p> + <p> + Now, if we remember in what passionate terms she had expressed her love + for her adopted brother, if we recall many passages of this manuscript, in + which she revealed the painful wounds often inflicted on her by Agricola + without knowing it, and if we consider how great was her terror of + ridicule, we shall understand her mad despair on reading this infamous + letter. Mother Bunch did not think for a moment of all the noble words and + touching narratives contained in her journal. The one horrible idea which + weighed down the troubled spirit of the unfortunate creature, was, that on + the morrow Agricola, Mdlle. de Cardoville, and an insolent and mocking + crowd, would be informed of this ridiculous love, which would, she + imagined, crush her with shame and confusion. This new blow was so + stunning, that the recipient staggered a moment beneath the unexpected + shock. For some minutes, she remained completely inert and helpless; then, + upon reflection, she suddenly felt conscious of a terrible necessity. + </p> + <p> + This hospitable mansion, where she had found a sure refuge after so many + misfortunes, must be left for ever. The trembling timidity and sensitive + delicacy of the poor creature did not permit her to remain a minute more + in this dwelling, where the most secret recesses of her soul had been laid + open, profaned, and exposed no doubt to sarcasm and contempt. She did not + think of demanding justice and revenge from Mdlle. de Cardoville. To cause + a ferment of trouble and irritation in this house, at the moment of + quitting it, would have appeared to her ingratitude towards her + benefactress. She did not seek to discover the author or the motive of + this odious robbery and insulting letter. Why should she, resolved, as she + was, to fly from the humiliations with which she was threatened? She had a + vague notion (as indeed was intended), that this infamy might be the work + of some of the servants, jealous of the affectionate deference shown her + by Mdlle. de Cardoville—and this thought filled her with despair. + Those pages—so painfully confidential, which she would not have + ventured to impart to the most tender and indulgent mother, because, + written as it were with her heart’s blood, they painted with too + cruel a fidelity the thousand secret wounds of her soul—those pages + were to serve, perhaps served even now, for the jest and laughing-stock of + the lackeys of the mansion. + </p> + <p> + The money which accompanied this letter, and the insulting way in which it + was offered, rather tended to confirm her suspicions. It was intended that + the fear of misery should not be the obstacle of her leaving the house. + The workgirl’s resolution was soon taken, with that calm and firm + resignation which was familiar to her. She rose, with somewhat bright and + haggard eyes, but without a tear in them. Since the day before, she had + wept too much. With a trembling, icy hand, she wrote these words on a + paper, which she left by the side of the bank-note: “May Mdlle. de + Cardoville be blessed for all that she has done for me, and forgive me for + having left her house, where I can remain no longer.” + </p> + <p> + Having written this, Mother Bunch threw into the fire the infamous letter, + which seemed to burn her hands. Then, taking a last look at her chamber, + furnished so comfortably, she shuddered involuntarily as she thought of + the misery that awaited her—a misery more frightful than that of + which she had already been the victim, for Agricola’s mother had + departed with Gabriel, and the unfortunate girl could no longer, as + formerly, be consoled in her distress by the almost maternal affection of + Dagobert’s wife. To live alone—quite alone—with the + thought that her fatal passion for Agricola was laughed at by everybody, + perhaps even by himself—such were the future prospects of the + hunchback. This future terrified her—a dark desire crossed her mind—she + shuddered, and an expression of bitter joy contracted her features. + Resolved to go, she made some steps towards the door, when, in passing + before the fireplace, she saw her own image in the glass, pale as death, + and clothed in black; then it struck her that she wore a dress which did + not belong to her, and she remembered a passage in the letter, which + alluded to the rags she had on before she entered that house. “True!” + said she, with a heart breaking smile, as she looked at her black + garments; “they would call me a thief.” + </p> + <p> + And, taking her candle, she entered the little dressing room, and put on + again the poor, old clothes, which she had preserved as a sort of pious + remembrance of her misfortunes. Only at this instant did her tears flow + abundantly. She wept—not in sorrow at resuming the garb of misery, + but in gratitude; for all the comforts around her, to which she was about + to bid an eternal adieu, recalled to her mind at every step the delicacy + and goodness of Mdlle. de Cardoville: therefore, yielding to an almost + involuntary impulse, after she had put on her poor, old clothes, she fell + on her knees in the middle of the room, and, addressing herself in thought + to Mdlle. de Cardoville, she exclaimed, in a voice broken by convulsive + sobs: “Adieu! oh, for ever, adieu!—You, that deigned to call + me friend—and sister!” + </p> + <p> + Suddenly, she rose in alarm; she heard steps in the corridor, which led + from the garden to one of the doors of her apartment, the other door + opening into the parlor. It was Florine, who (alas! too late) was bringing + back the manuscript. Alarmed at this noise of footsteps, and believing + herself already the laughing-stock of the house. Mother Bunch rushed from + the room, hastened across the parlor, gained the court-yard, and knocked + at the window of the porter’s lodge. The house-door opened, and + immediately closed upon her. And so the workgirl left Cardoville House. + </p> + <p> + Adrienne was thus deprived of a devoted, faithful, and vigilant guardian. + Rodin was delivered from an active and sagacious antagonist, whom he had + always, with good reason, feared. Having, as we have seen, guessed Mother + Bunch’s love for Agricola, and knowing her to be a poet, the Jesuit + supposed, logically enough that she must have written secretly some verses + inspired by this fatal and concealed passion. Hence the order given to + Florine, to try and discover some written evidence of this love; hence + this letter, so horribly effective in its coarse ribaldry, of which, it + must be observed, Florine did not know the contents, having received it + after communicating a summary of the contents of the manuscript, which, + the first time, she had only glanced through without taking it away. We + have said, that Florine, yielding too late to a generous repentance, had + reached Mother Bunch’s apartment, just as the latter quitted the + house in consternation. + </p> + <p> + Perceiving a light in the dressing-room, the waiting-maid hastened + thither. She saw upon a chair the black dress that Mother Bunch had just + taken off, and, a few steps further, the shabby little trunk, open and + empty, in which she had hitherto preserved her poor garments. Florine’s + heart sank within her; she ran to the secretary; the disorder of the + card-board boxes, the note for five hundred francs left by the side of the + two lines written to Mdlle. de Cardoville, all proved that her obedience + to Rodin’s orders had borne fatal fruit, and that Mother Bunch had + quitted the house for ever. Finding the uselessness of her tardy + resolution, Florine resigned herself with a sigh to the necessity of + delivering the manuscript to Rodin. Then, forced by the fatality of her + miserable position to console herself for evil by evil, she considered + that the hunchback’s departure would at least make her treachery + less dangerous. + </p> + <p> + Two days after these events, Adrienne received the following note from + Rodin, in answer to a letter she had written him, to inform him of the + work-girl’s inexplicable departure: + </p> + <p> + “MY DEAR YOUNG LADY;—Obliged to set out this morning for the + factory of the excellent M. Hardy, whither I am called by an affair of + importance, it is impossible for me to pay you my humble respects. You ask + me what I think of the disappearance of this poor girl? I really do not + know. The future will, I doubt not, explain all to her advantage. Only, + remember what I told you at Dr. Baleinier’s, with regard to a + certain society and its secret emissaries, with whom it has the art of + surrounding those it wishes to keep a watch on. I accuse no one; but let + us only recall facts. This poor girl accused me; and I am, as you know, + the most faithful of your servants. She possessed nothing; and yet five + hundred francs were found in her secretary. You loaded her with favors; + and she leaves your house without even explaining the cause of this + extraordinary flight. I draw no conclusion, my dear young lady; I am + always unwilling to condemn without evidence; but reflect upon all this, + and be on your guard, for you have perhaps escaped a great danger. Be more + circumspect and suspicious than ever; such at least is the respectful + advice of your most obedient, humble servant, + </p> + <p> + “Rodin.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0102" id="link2HCH0102"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XLIX. THE TRYSTING-PLACE OF THE WOLVES. + </h2> + <div class="fig" style="width:65%;"> + <img src="images/20453m.jpg" alt="20453m” width=" /><br /> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/20453.jpg"><i>Original</i></a> + </h5> + <p> + It was a Sunday morning the very day on which Mdlle. de Cardoville had + received Rodin’s letter with regard to Mother Bunch’s + disappearance. Two men were talking to together, seated at a table in one + of the public houses in the little village of Villiers, situated at no + great distance from Hardy’s factory. The village was for the most + part inhabited by quarrymen and stonecutters, employed in working the + neighboring quarries. Nothing can be ruder and more laborious, and at the + same time less adequately paid, than the work of this class of people. + Therefore, as Agricola had told Mother Bunch, they drew painful + comparisons between their condition, almost always miserable, and the + comfort and comparative ease enjoyed by M. Hardy’s workmen, thanks + to his generous and intelligent management, and to the principles of + association and community which he had put in practice amongst them. + Misery and ignorance are always the cause of great evils. Misery is easily + excited to anger, and ignorance soon yields to perfidious counsels. For a + long time, the happiness of M. Hardy’s workmen had been naturally + envied, but not with a jealousy amounting to hatred. As soon, however, as + the secret enemies of the manufacturer, uniting with his rival Baron + Tripeaud, had an interest in changing this peaceful state of things—it + changed accordingly. + </p> + <p> + With diabolical skill and perseverance they succeeded in kindling the most + evil passions. By means of chosen emissaries, they applied to those + quarrymen and stonecutters of the neighborhood, whose bad conduct had + aggravated their misery. Notorious for their turbulence, audacity, and + energy, these men might exercise a dangerous influence on the majority of + their companions, who were peaceful, laborious, and honest, but easily + intimidated by violence. These turbulent leaders, previously embittered by + misfortune, were soon impressed with an exaggerated idea of the happiness + of M. Hardy’s workmen, and excited to a jealous hatred of them. They + went still further; the incendiary sermons of an abbe, a member of the + Jesuits, who had come expressly from Paris to preach during Lent against + M. Hardy, acted powerfully on the minds of the women, who filled the + church, whilst their husbands were haunting the taverns. Profiting by the + growing fear, which the approach of the Cholera then inspired, the + preacher struck with terror these weak and credulous imaginations by + pointing to M. Hardy’s factory as a centre of corruption and + damnation, capable of drawing down the vengeance of Heaven, and bringing + the fatal scourge upon the country. Thus the men, already inflamed with + envy, were still more excited by the incessant urgency of their wives, + who, maddened by the abbe’s sermons, poured their curses on that + band of atheists, who might bring down so many misfortunes upon them and + their children. Some bad characters, belonging to the factory of Baron + Tripeaud, and paid by him (for it was a great interest the honorable + manufacturer had in the ruin of M. Hardy), came to augment the general + irritation, and to complete it by raising one of those alarming + union-questions, which in our day have unfortunately caused so much + bloodshed. Many of M. Hardy’s workmen, before they entered his + employ, had belonged to a society or union, called the Devourers; while + many of the stonecutters in the neighboring quarries belonged to a society + called the Wolves. Now, for a long time, an implacable rivalry had existed + between the Wolves and Devourers, and brought about many sanguinary + struggles, which are the more to be deplored, as, in some respects, the + idea of these unions is excellent, being founded on the fruitful and + mighty principle of association. But unfortunately, instead of embracing + all trades in one fraternal communion, these unions break up the + working-class into distinct and hostile societies, whose rivalry often + leads to bloody collisions.(27) For the last week, the Wolves, excited by + so many different importunities, burned to discover an occasion or a + pretext to come to blows with the Devourers; but the latter, not + frequenting the public-houses, and hardly leaving the factory during the + week, had hitherto rendered such a meeting impossible, and the Wolves had + been forced to wait for the Sunday with ferocious impatience. + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:65%;"> + <img src="images/20463m.jpg" alt="20463m” width=" /><br /> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/20463.jpg"><i>Original</i></a> + </h5> + <p> + Moreover, a great number of the quarrymen and stonecutters, being + peaceable and hard-working people, had refused, though Wolves themselves + to join this hostile manifestation against the Devourers of M. Hardy’s + factory; the leaders had been obliged to recruit their forces from the + vagabonds and idlers of the barriers, whom the attraction of tumult and + disorder had easily enlisted under the flag of the warlike Wolves. Such + then was the dull fermentation, which agitated the little village of + Villiers, whilst the two men of whom we have spoken were at table in the + public-house. + </p> + <p> + These men had asked for a private room, that they might be alone. One of + them was still young, and pretty well dressed. But the disorder in his + clothes, his loose cravat, his shirt spotted with wine, his dishevelled + hair, his look of fatigue, his marble complexion, his bloodshot eyes, + announced that a night of debauch had preceded this morning; whilst his + abrupt and heavy gesture, his hoarse voice, his look, sometimes brilliant, + and sometimes stupid, proved that to the last fumes of the intoxication of + the night before, were joined the first attacks of a new state of + drunkenness. The companion of this man said to him, as he touched his + glass with his own: “Your health, my boy!” + </p> + <p> + “Yours!” answered the young man; “though you look to me + like the devil.” + </p> + <p> + “I!—the devil?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “Why?” + </p> + <p> + “How did you come to know me?” + </p> + <p> + “Do you repent that you ever knew me?” + </p> + <p> + “Who told you that I was a prisoner at Sainte-Pelagie?” + </p> + <p> + “Didn’t I take you out of prison?” + </p> + <p> + “Why did you take me out?” + </p> + <p> + “Because I have a good heart.” + </p> + <p> + “You are very fond of me, perhaps—just as the butcher likes + the ox that he drives to the slaughter-house.” + </p> + <p> + “Are you mad?” + </p> + <p> + “A man does not pay a hundred thousand francs for another without a + motive.” + </p> + <p> + “I have a motive.” + </p> + <p> + “What is it? what do you want to do with me?” + </p> + <p> + “A jolly companion that will spend his money like a man, and pass + every night like the last. Good wine, good cheer, pretty girls, and gay + songs. Is that such a bad trade?” + </p> + <p> + After he had remained a moment without answering, the young man replied + with a gloomy air: “Why, on the eve of my leaving prison, did you + attach this condition to my freedom, that I should write to my mistress to + tell her that I would never see her again! Why did you exact this letter + from me?” + </p> + <p> + “A sigh! what, are you still thinking of her?” + </p> + <p> + “Always.” + </p> + <p> + “You are wrong. Your mistress is far from Paris by this time. I saw + her get into the stage-coach, before I came to take you out of Sainte + Pelagie.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I was stifled in that prison. To get out, I would have given + my soul to the devil. You thought so, and therefore you came to me; only, + instead of my soul, you took Cephyse from me. Poor Bacchanal-Queen! And + why did you do it? Thousand thunders! Will you tell me!” + </p> + <p> + “A man as much attached to his mistress as you are is no longer a + man. He wants energy, when the occasion requires.” + </p> + <p> + “What occasion?” + </p> + <p> + “Let us drink!” + </p> + <p> + “You make me drink too much brandy.” + </p> + <p> + “Bah! look at me!” + </p> + <p> + “That’s what frightens me. It seems something devilish. A + bottle of brandy does not even make you wink. You must have a stomach of + iron and a head of marble.” + </p> + <p> + “I have long travelled in Russia. There we drink to roast ourselves.” + </p> + <p> + “And here to only warm. So—let’s drink—but wine.” + </p> + <p> + “Nonsense! wine is fit for children. Brandy for men like us!” + </p> + <p> + “Well, then, brandy; but it burns, and sets the head on fire, and + then we see all the flames of hell!” + </p> + <p> + “That’s how I like to see you, hang it!” + </p> + <p> + “But when you told me that I was too much attached to my mistress, + and that I should want energy when the occasion required, of what occasion + did you speak?” + </p> + <p> + “Let us drink!” + </p> + <p> + “Stop a moment, comrade. I am no more of a fool than others. Your + half words have taught me something. + </p> + <p> + “Well, what?” + </p> + <p> + “You know that I have been a workman, that I have many companions, + and that, being a good fellow, I am much liked amongst them. You want me + for a catspaw, to catch other chestnuts?” + </p> + <p> + “What then?” + </p> + <p> + “You must be some getter-up of riots—some speculator in + revolts.” + </p> + <p> + “What next?” + </p> + <p> + “You are travelling for some anonymous society, that trades in + musket shots.” + </p> + <p> + “Are you a coward?” + </p> + <p> + “I burned powder in July, I can tell you—make no mistakes!” + </p> + <p> + “You would not mind burning some again?” + </p> + <p> + “Just as well that sort of fireworks as any other. Only I find + revolutions more agreeable than useful; all that I got from the barricades + of the three days was burnt breeches and a lost jacket. All the cause won + by me, with its ‘Forward! March!’ says.” + </p> + <p> + “You know many of Hardy’s workmen?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! that’s why you have brought me down here?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes—you will meet with many of the workmen from the factory.” + </p> + <p> + “Men from Hardy’s take part in a row? No, no; they are too + well off for that. You have been sold.” + </p> + <p> + “You will see presently.” + </p> + <p> + “I tell you they are well off. What have they to complain of?” + </p> + <p> + “What of their brethren—those who have not so good a master, + and die of hunger and misery, and call on them for assistance? Do you + think they will remain deaf to such a summons? Hardy is only an exception. + Let the people but give a good pull all together, and the exception will + become the rule, and all the world be happy.” + </p> + <p> + “What you say there is true, but it would be a devil of a pull that + would make an honest man out of my old master, Baron Tripeaud, who made me + what I am—an out-and-out rip.” + </p> + <p> + “Hardy’s workmen are coming; you are their comrade, and have + no interest in deceiving them. They will believe you. Join with me in + persuading them—” + </p> + <p> + “To what?” + </p> + <p> + “To leave this factory, in which they grow effeminate and selfish, + and forget their brothers.” + </p> + <p> + “But if they leave the factory, how are they to live?” + </p> + <p> + “We will provide for that—on the great day.” + </p> + <p> + “And what’s to be done till then?” + </p> + <p> + “What you have done last night—drink, laugh, sing, and, by way + of work, exercise themselves privately in the use of arms.’ + </p> + <p> + “Who will bring these workmen here?” + </p> + <p> + “Some one has already spoken to them. They have had printed papers, + reproaching them with indifference to their brothers. Come, will you + support me?” + </p> + <p> + “I’ll support you—the more readily as I cannot very well + support myself. I only cared for Cephyse in the world; I know that I am on + a bad road; you are pushing me on further; let the ball roll!—Whether + we go to the devil one way or the other is not of much consequence. Let’s + drink.” + </p> + <p> + “Drink to our next night’s fun; the last was only + apprenticeship.” + </p> + <p> + “Of what then are you made? I looked at you, and never saw you + either blush or smile, or change countenance. You are like a man of iron.” + </p> + <p> + “I am not a lad of fifteen. It would take something more to make me + laugh. I shall laugh to-night.” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t know if it’s the brandy; but, devil take me, if + you don’t frighten me when you say you shall laugh tonight!” + </p> + <p> + So saying, the young man rose, staggering; he began to be once more + intoxicated. + </p> + <p> + There was a knock at the door. “Come in!” The host made his + appearance. + </p> + <p> + “What’s the matter?” + </p> + <p> + “There’s a young man below, who calls himself Olivier. He asks + for M. Morok.” + </p> + <p> + “That’s right. Let him came up.” The host went out. + </p> + <p> + “It is one of our men, but he is alone,” said Morok, whose + savage countenance expressed disappointment. “It astonishes me, for + I expected a good number. Do you know him?” + </p> + <p> + “Olivier? Yes—a fair chap, I think.” + </p> + <p> + “We shall see him directly. Here he is.” A young man, with an + open, bold, intelligent countenance, at this moment entered the room. + </p> + <p> + “What! old Sleepinbuff!” he exclaimed, at sight of Morok’s + companion. + </p> + <p> + “Myself. I have not seen you for an age, Olivier.” + </p> + <p> + “Simple enough, my boy. We do not work at the same place.” + </p> + <p> + “But you are alone!” cried Morok; and pointing to Sleepinbuff, + he added: “You may speak before him—he is one of us. But why + are you alone?” + </p> + <p> + “I come alone, but in the name of my comrades.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” said Morok, with a sigh of satisfaction, “they + consent.” + </p> + <p> + “They refuse—just as I do!” + </p> + <p> + “What, the devil! they refuse? Have they no more courage than women?” + cried Morok, grinding his teeth with rage. + </p> + <p> + “Hark ye,” answered Olivier, coolly. “We have received + your letters, and seen your agent. We have had proof that he is really + connected with great societies, many members of which are known to us.” + </p> + <p> + “Well! why do you hesitate?” + </p> + <p> + “First of all, nothing proves that these societies are ready to make + a movement.” + </p> + <p> + “I tell you they are.” + </p> + <p> + “He—tells you—they are,” said Sleepinbuff, + stammering “and I (hic!) affirm it. Forward! March!” + </p> + <p> + “That’s not enough,” replied Olivier. “Besides, we + have reflected upon it. For a week the factory was divided. Even yesterday + the discussion was too warm to be pleasant. But this morning Father Simon + called to him; we explained ourselves fully before him, and he brought us + all to one mind. We mean to wait, and if any disturbance breaks out, we + shall see.” + </p> + <p> + “Is that your final word?” + </p> + <p> + “It is our last word.” + </p> + <p> + “Silence!” cried Sleepinbuff, suddenly, as he listened, + balancing himself on his tottering legs. “It is like the noise of a + crowd not far off.” A dull sound was indeed audible, which became + every moment more and more distinct, and at length grew formidable. + </p> + <p> + “What is that?” said Olivier, in surprise. + </p> + <p> + “Now,” replied Morok, smiling with a sinister air, “I + remember the host told me there was a great ferment in the village against + the factory. If you and your other comrades had separated from Hardy’s + other workmen, as I hoped, these people who are beginning to howl would + have been for you, instead of against you.” + </p> + <p> + “This was a trap, then, to set one half of M. Hardy’s workmen + against the other!” cried Olivier; “you hoped that we should + make common cause with these people against the factory, and that—” + </p> + <p> + The young man had not time to finish. A terrible outburst of shouts, + howls, and hisses shook the tavern. At the same instant the door was + abruptly opened, and the host, pale and trembling, hurried into the + chamber, exclaiming: “Gentlemen! do any of you work at M. Hardy’s + factory?” + </p> + <p> + “I do,” said Olivier. + </p> + <p> + “Then you are lost. Here are the Wolves in a body, saying there are + Devourers here from M. Hardy’s, and offering them battle—unless + the Devourers will give up the factory, and range themselves on their + side.” + </p> + <p> + “It was a trap, there can be no doubt of it!” cried Olivier, + looking at Morok and Sleepinbuff, with a threatening air; “if my + mates had come, we were all to be let in.” + </p> + <p> + “I lay a trap, Olivier?” stammered Jacques Rennepont. “Never!” + </p> + <p> + “Battle to the Devourers! or let them join the Wolves!” cried + the angry crowd with one voice, as they appeared to invade the house. + </p> + <p> + “Come!” exclaimed the host. Without giving Olivier time to + answer, he seized him by the arm, and opening a window which led to a roof + at no very great height from the ground, he said to him: “Make your + escape by this window, let yourself slide down, and gain the fields; it is + time.” + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:65%;"> + <img src="images/20469m.jpg" alt="20469m” width=" /><br /> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/20469.jpg"><i>Original</i></a> + </h5> + <p> + As the young workman hesitated, the host added, with a look of terror: + </p> + <p> + “Alone, against a couple of hundred, what can you do? A minute more, + and you are lost. Do you not hear them? They have entered the yard; they + are coming up.” + </p> + <p> + Indeed, at this moment, the groans, the hisses, and cheers redoubled in + violence; the wooden staircase which led to the first story shook beneath + the quick steps of many persons, and the shout arose, loud and piercing: + “Battle to the Devourers!” + </p> + <p> + “Fly, Olivier!” cried Sleepinbuff, almost sobered by the + danger. + </p> + <p> + Hardly had he pronounced the words when the door of the large room, which + communicated with the small one in which they were, was burst open with a + frightful crash. + </p> + <p> + “Here they are!” cried the host, clasping his hands in alarm. + Then, running to Olivier, he pushed him, as it were, out of the window; + for, with one foot on the sill, the workman still hesitated. + </p> + <p> + The window once closed, the publican returned towards Morok the instant + the latter entered the large room, into which the leaders of the Wolves + had just forced an entry, whilst their companions were vociferating in the + yard and on the staircase. Eight or ten of these madmen, urged by others + to take part in these scenes of disorder, had rushed first into the room, + with countenances inflamed by wine and anger; most of them were armed with + long sticks. A blaster, of Herculean strength and stature, with an old red + handkerchief about his head, its ragged ends streaming over his shoulders, + miserably dressed in a half-worn goat-skin, brandished an iron + drilling-rod, and appeared to direct the movements. With bloodshot eyes, + threatening and ferocious countenance, he advanced towards the small room, + as if to drive back Morok, and exclaimed, in a voice of thunder: + </p> + <p> + “Where are the Devourers?—the Wolves will eat ‘em up!” + </p> + <p> + The host hastened to open the door of the small room, saying: “There + is no one here, my friends—no one. Look for yourselves.” + </p> + <p> + “It is true,” said the quarryman, surprised, after peeping + into the room; “where are they, then? We were told there were a + dozen of them here. They should have marched with us against the factory, + or there’d ‘a been a battle, and the Wolves would have tried + their teeth!” + </p> + <p> + “If they have not come,” said another, “they will come. + Let’s wait.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes; we will wait for them.” + </p> + <p> + “We will look close at each other.” + </p> + <p> + “If the Wolves want to see the Devourers,” said Morok, “why + not go and howl round the factory of the miscreant atheists? At the first + howl of the Wolves they will come out, and give you battle.” + </p> + <p> + “They will give you—battle,” repeated Sleepinbuff, + mechanically. + </p> + <p> + “Unless the Wolves are afraid of the Devourers,” added Morok. + </p> + <p> + “Since you talk of fear, you shall go with us, and see who’s + afraid!” cried the formidable blaster, and in a thundering voice, he + advanced towards Morok. + </p> + <p> + A number of voices joined in with, “Who says the Wolves are afraid + of the Devourers?” + </p> + <p> + “It would be the first time!” + </p> + <p> + “Battle! battle! and make an end of it!” + </p> + <p> + “We are tired of all this. Why should we be so miserable, and they + so well off?” + </p> + <p> + “They have said that quarrymen are brutes, only fit to torn wheels + in a shaft, like dogs to turn spits,” cried an emissary of Baron + Tripeaud’s. + </p> + <p> + “And that the Devourers would make themselves caps with wolf-skin,” + added another. + </p> + <p> + “Neither they nor their wives ever go to mass. They are pagans and + dogs!” cried an emissary of the preaching abbe. + </p> + <p> + “The men might keep their Sunday as they pleased; but their wives + not to go to mass!—it is abominable. + </p> + <p> + “And, therefore, the curate has said that their factory, because of + its abominations, might bring down the cholera to the country.” + </p> + <p> + “True? he said that in his sermon.” + </p> + <p> + “Our wives heard it.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes; down with the Devourers, who want to bring the cholera on + the country!” + </p> + <p> + “Hooray, for a fight!” cried the crowd in chorus. + </p> + <p> + “To the factory, my brave Wolves!” cried Morok, with the voice + of a Stentor; “on to the factory!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes! to the factory! to the factory!” repeated the crowd, + with furious stamping; for, little by little, all who could force their + way into the room, or up the stairs, had there collected together. + </p> + <p> + These furious cries recalling Jacques for a moment to his senses, he + whispered to Morok: “It is slaughter you would provoke? I wash my + hands of it.” + </p> + <p> + “We shall have time to let them know at the factory. We can give + these fellows the slip on the road,” answered Morok. Then he cried + aloud, addressing the host, who was terrified at this disorder: “Brandy!—let + us drink to the health of the brave Wolves! I will stand treat.” He + threw some money to the host, who disappeared, and soon returned with + several bottles of brandy, and some glasses. + </p> + <p> + “What! glasses?” cried Morok. “Do jolly companions, like + we are, drink out of glasses?” So saying, he forced out one of the + corks, raised the neck of the bottle to his lips, and, having drunk a deep + draught, passed it to the gigantic quarryman. + </p> + <p> + “That’s the thing!” said the latter. “Here’s + in honor of the treat!—None but a sneak will refuse, for this stuff + will sharpen the Wolves’ teeth!” + </p> + <p> + “Here’s to your health, mates!” said Morok, distributing + the bottles. + </p> + <p> + “There will be blood at the end of all this,” muttered + Sleepinbuff, who, in spite of his intoxication, perceived all the danger + of these fatal incitements. Indeed, a large portion of the crowd was + already quitting the yard of the public-house, and advancing rapidly + towards M. Hardy’s factory. + </p> + <p> + Those of the workmen and inhabitants of the village, who had not chosen to + take any part in this movement of hostility (they were the majority), did + not make their appearance, as this threatening troop passed along the + principal street; but a good number of women, excited to fanaticism by the + sermons of the abbe, encouraged the warlike assemblage with their cries. + At the head of the troop advanced the gigantic blaster, brandishing his + formidable bar, followed by a motley mass, armed with sticks and stones. + Their heads still warmed by their recent libations of brandy, they had now + attained a frightful state of frenzy. Their countenances were ferocious, + inflamed, terrible. This unchaining of the worst passions seemed to + forbode the most deplorable consequences. Holding each other arm-in-arm, + and walking four or five together, the Wolves gave vent to their + excitement in war-songs, which closed with the following verse: + </p> + <p> + “Forward! full of assurance! Let us try our vigorous arms! They have + wearied out our prudence; Let us show we’ve no alarms. Sprung from a + monarch glorious,(28) To-day we’ll not grow pale, Whether we win the + fight, or fail, Whether we die, or are victorious! Children of Solomon, + mighty king, All your efforts together bring, Till in triumph we shall + sing!” + </p> + <p> + Morok and Jacques had disappeared whilst the tumultuous troop were leaving + the tavern to hasten to the factory. + </p> + <p> + (27) Let it be noted, to the working-man’s credit, that such + outrageous scenes become more and more rare as he is enlightened to the + full consciousness of his worth. Such better tendencies are to be + attributed to the just influence of an excellent tract on trades’ + union written by M. Agricole Perdignier, and published in 1841, Paris. + This author, a joiner, founded at his own expense an establishment in the + Faubourg St. Antoine, where some forty or fifty of his trade lodged, and + were given, after the day’s work, a course of geometry, etc., + applied to wood carving. We went to one of the lectures, and found as much + clearness in the professor as attention and intelligence in the audience. + At ten, after reading selections, all the lodgers retire, forced by their + scanty wages to sleep, perhaps, four in a room. M. Perdignier informed us + that study and instruction were such powerful ameliorators, that, during + six years, he had only one of his lodgers to expel. “In a few days,” + he remarked, “the bad eggs find out, this is no place for them to + addle sound ones!” We are happy to hear, reader, public homage to a + learned and upright man, devoted to his fellow-workmen. + </p> + <p> + (28) The Wolves (among others) ascribe the institution of their company to + King Solomon. See the curious work by M. Agricole Perdignier, from which + the war-song is extracted. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0103" id="link2HCH0103"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER L. THE COMMON DWELLING-HOUSE + </h2> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">W</span>hilst the Wolves, + as we have just seen, prepared a savage attack on the Devourers, the + factory of M. Hardy had that morning a festal air, perfectly in accordance + with the serenity of the sky; for the wind was from the north, and pretty + sharp for a fine day in March. The clock had just struck nine in the + Common Dwelling-house of the workmen, separated from the workshops by a + broad path planted with trees. The rising sun bathed in light this + imposing mass of buildings, situated a league from Paris, in a gay and + salubrious locality, from which were visible the woody and picturesque + hills, that on this side overlook the great city. Nothing could be + plainer, and yet more cheerful than the aspect of the Common + Dwelling-house of the workmen. Its slanting roof of red tiles projected + over white walls, divided here and there by broad rows of bricks, which + contrasted agreeably with the green color of the blinds on the first and + second stories. + </p> + <p> + These buildings, open to the south and east, were surrounded by a large + garden of about ten acres, partly planted with trees, and partly laid out + in fruit and kitchen-garden. Before continuing this description, which + perhaps will appear a little like a fairy-tale, let us begin by saying, + that the wonders, of which we are about to present the sketch, must not to + be considered Utopian dreams; nothing, on the contrary, could be of a more + positive character, and we are able to assert, and even to prove (what in + our time is of great weight and interest), that these wonders were the + result of an excellent speculation, and represented an investment as + lucrative as it was secure. To undertake a vast, noble, and most useful + enterprise; to bestow on a considerable number of human creatures an ideal + prosperity, compared with the frightful, almost homicidal doom, to which + they are generally condemned; to instruct them, and elevate them in their + own esteem; to make them prefer to the coarse pleasures of the tavern, or + rather to the fatal oblivion which they find there, as an escape from the + consciousness of their deplorable destiny, the pleasures, of the intellect + and the enjoyments of art; in a word, to make men moral by making them + happy, and finally, thanks to this generous example, so easy of imitation, + to take a place amongst the benefactors of humanity—and yet, at the + same time to do, as it were, without knowing it, an excellent stroke of + business—may appear fabulous. And yet this was the secret of the + wonders of which we speak. + </p> + <p> + Let us enter the interior of the factory. Ignorant of Mother Bunch’s + cruel disappearance, Agricola gave himself up to the most happy, thoughts + as he recalled Angela’s image, and, having finished dressing with + unusual care, went in search of his betrothed. + </p> + <p> + Let us say two words on the subject of the lodging, which the smith + occupied in the Common Dwelling-house, at the incredibly low rate of + seventy-five francs per annum like the other bachelors on the + establishment. This lodging, situated on the second story, was comprised + of a capital chamber and bedroom, with a southern aspect, and looking on + the garden; the pine floor was perfectly white and clean; the iron + bedstead was supplied with a good mattress and warm coverings; a gas + burner and a warm-air pipe were also introduced into the rooms, to furnish + light and heat as required; the walls were hung with pretty fancy + papering, and had curtains to match; a chest of drawers, a walnut table, a + few chairs, a small library, comprised Agricola’s furniture. + Finally, in the large and light closet, was a place for his clothes, a + dressing table, and large zinc basin, with an ample supply of water. If we + compare this agreeable, salubrious, comfortable lodging, with the dark, + icy, dilapidated garret, for which the worthy fellow paid ninety francs at + his mother’s, and to get to which he had more than a league and a + half to go every evening, we shall understand the sacrifice he made to his + affection for that excellent woman. + </p> + <p> + Agricola, after casting a last glance of tolerable satisfaction at his + looking-glass, while he combed his moustache and imperial, quitted his + chamber, to go and join Angela in the women’s workroom. The + corridor, along which he had to pass, was broad, well-lighted from above, + floored with pine, and extremely clean. Notwithstanding some seeds of + discord which had been lately sown by M. Hardy’s enemies amongst his + workmen, until now so fraternally united, joyous songs were heard in + almost all the apartments which skirted the corridor, and, as Agricola + passed before several open doors, he exchanged a cordial good-morrow with + many of his comrades. The smith hastily descended the stairs, crossed the + court yard, in which was a grass-plot planted with trees, with a fountain + in the centre, and gained the other wing of the building. There was the + workroom, in which a portion of the wives and daughters of the associated + artisans, who happened not to be employed in the factory, occupied + themselves in making up the linen. This labor, joined to the enormous + saving effected by the purchase of the materials wholesale, reduced to an + incredible extent the price of each article. After passing through this + workroom, a vast apartment looking on the garden, well-aired in + summer,(29) and well-warmed in winter, Agricola knocked at the door of the + rooms occupied by Angela’s mother. + </p> + <p> + If we say a few words with regard to this lodging, situated on the first + story, with an eastern aspect, and also looking on the garden, it is that + we may tape it as a specimen of the habitation of a family in this + association, supplied at the incredibly small price of one hundred and + twenty-five francs per annum. + </p> + <p> + A small entrance, opening on the corridor, led to a large room, on each + side of which was a smaller chamber, destined for the family, when the + boys and girls were too big to continue to sleep in the two dormitories, + arranged after the fashion of a large school, and reserved for the + children of both sexes. Every night the superintendence of these + dormitories was entrusted to a father and mother of a family, belonging to + the association. The lodging of which we speak, being, like all the + others, disencumbered of the paraphernalia of a kitchen—for the + cooking was done in common, and on a large scale, in another part of the + building—was kept extremely clean. A pretty large piece of carpet, a + comfortable arm-chair, some pretty-looking china on a stand of well + polished wood, some prints hung against the walls, a clock of gilt bronze, + a bed, a chest of drawers, and a mahogany secretary, announced that the + inhabitants of this apartment enjoyed not only the necessaries, but some + of the luxuries of life. Angela, who, from this time, might be called + Agricola’s betrothed, justified in every point the flattering + portrait which the smith had drawn of her in his interview with poor + Mother Bunch. The charming girl, seventeen years of age at most, dressed + with as much simplicity as neatness, was seated by the side of her mother. + When Agricola entered, she blushed slightly at seeing him. + </p> + <p> + “Mademoiselle,” said Agricola, “I have come to keep my + promise, if your mother has no objection.” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly, M. Agricola,” answered the mother of the young + girl cordially. “She would not go over the Common Dwelling-house + with her father, her brother, or me, because she wished to have that + pleasure with you today. It is quite right that you, who can talk so well, + should do the honors of the house to the new-comer. She has been waiting + for you an hour, and with such impatience!” + </p> + <p> + “Pray excuse me, mademoiselle,” said Agricola, gayly; “in + thinking of the pleasure of seeing you, I forgot the hour. That is my only + excuse.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, mother!” said the young girl, in a tone of mild reproach, + and becoming red as a cherry, “why did you say that?” + </p> + <p> + “Is it true, yes or no? I do not blame you for it; on the contrary. + Go with M. Agricola, child, and he will tell you, better than I can, what + all the workmen of the factory owe to M, Hardy.” + </p> + <p> + “M. Agricola,” said Angela, tying the ribbons of her pretty + cap, “what a pity that your good little adopted sister is not with + us.” + </p> + <p> + “Mother Bunch?—yes, you are right, mademoiselle; but that is + only a pleasure put off, and the visit she paid us yesterday will not be + the last.” + </p> + <p> + Having embraced her mother, the girl took Agricola’s arm, and they + went out together. + </p> + <p> + “Dear me, M. Agricola,” said Angela; “if you knew how + much I was surprised on entering this fine house, after being accustomed + to see so much misery amongst the poor workmen in our country, and in + which I too have had my share, whilst here everybody seems happy and + contented. It is really like fairy-land; I think I am in a dream, and when + I ask my mother the explanation of these wonders, she tells me, ‘M. + Agricola will explain it all to you.’” + </p> + <p> + “Do you know why I am so happy to undertake that delightful task, + mademoiselle?” said Agricola, with an accent at once grave and + tender. “Nothing could be more in season.” + </p> + <p> + “Why so, M. Agricola?” + </p> + <p> + “Because, to show you this house, to make you acquainted with all + the resources of our association, is to be able to say to you: ‘Here, + the workman, sure of the present, sure of the future, is not, like so many + of his poor brothers, obliged to renounce the sweetest want of the heart—the + desire of choosing a companion for life—in the fear of uniting + misery to misery.”’ + </p> + <p> + Angela cast down her eyes, and blushed. + </p> + <p> + “Here the workman may safely yield to the hope of knowing the sweet + joys of a family, sure of not having his heart torn hereafter by the sight + of the horrible privations of those who are dear to him; here, thanks to + order and industry, and the wise employment of the strength of all, men, + women, and children live happy and contented. In a ward, to explain all + this to you, mademoiselle,” added Agricola, smiling with a still + more tender air, “is to prove, that here we can do nothing more + reasonable than love, nothing wiser than marry.” + </p> + <p> + “M. Agricola,” answered Angela, in a slightly agitated voice, + and blushing still more as she spoke, “suppose we were to begin our + walk.” + </p> + <p> + “Directly, mademoiselle,” replied the smith, pleased at the + trouble he had excited in that ingenuous soul. “But, come; we are + near the dormitory of the little girls. The chirping birds have long left + their nests. Let us go there.” + </p> + <p> + “Willingly, M. Agricola.” + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:65%;"> + <img src="images/20477m.jpg" alt="20477m” width=" /><br /> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/20477.jpg"><i>Original</i></a> + </h5> + <p> + The young smith and Angela soon entered a spacious dormitory, resembling + that of a first-rate boarding school. The little iron bedsteads were + arranged in symmetrical order; at each end were the beds of the two + mothers of families, who took the superintendence by turns. + </p> + <p> + “Dear me! how well it is arranged, M. Agricola, and how neat and + clean! Who is it that takes such good care of it?” + </p> + <p> + “The children themselves; we have no servants here. There is an + extraordinary emulation between these urchins—as to who shall make + her bed most neatly, and it amuses them quite as much as making a bed for + their dolls. Little girls, you know, delight in playing at keeping house. + Well, here they play at it in good earnest, and the house is admirably + kept in consequence.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! I understand. They turn to account their natural taste for all + such kinds of amusement.” + </p> + <p> + “That is the whole secret. You will see them everywhere usefully + occupied, and delighted at the importance of the employments given them.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, M. Agricola!” said Angela, timidly, “only compare + these fine dormitories, so warm and healthy, with the horrible icy + garrets, where children are heaped pell-mell on a wretched straw-mattress, + shivering with cold, as in the case with almost all the workmen’s + families in our country!” + </p> + <p> + “And in Paris, mademoiselle, it is even worse.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! how kind, generous, and rich must M. Hardy be, to spend so much + money in doing good!” + </p> + <p> + “I am going to astonish you, mademoiselle!” said Agricola, + with a smile; “to astonish you so much, that perhaps you will not + believe me.” + </p> + <p> + “Why so, M. Agricola?” + </p> + <p> + “There is not certainly in the world a man with a better and more + generous heart than M. Hardy; he does good for its own sake and without + thinking of his personal interest. And yet, Mdlle. Angela, were he the + most selfish and avaricious of men, he would still find it greatly to his + advantage to put us in a position to be as comfortable as we are.” + </p> + <p> + “Is it possible, M. Agricola? You tell me so, and I believe it; but + if good can so easily be done, if there is even an advantage in doing it, + why is it not more commonly attempted?” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! mademoiselle, it requires three gifts very rarely met with in + the same person—knowledge, power and will.” + </p> + <p> + “Alas! yes. Those who have the knowledge, have not the power.” + </p> + <p> + “And those who have the power, have neither the knowledge nor the + will.” + </p> + <p> + “But how does M. Hardy find any advantage in the good he does for + you?” + </p> + <p> + “I will explain that presently, mademoiselle.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, what a nice, sweet smell of fruit!” said Angela, + suddenly. + </p> + <p> + “Our common fruit-store is close at hand. I wager we shall find + there some of the little birds from the dormitory—not occupied in + picking and stealing, but hard at work.” + </p> + <p> + Opening a door, Agricola led Angela into a large room, furnished with + shelves, on which the winter fruits were arranged in order. A number of + children, from seven to eight years old, neatly and warmly clad, and + glowing with health, exerted themselves cheerfully, under the + superintendence of a woman, in separating and sorting the spoiled fruit. + </p> + <p> + “You see,” said Agricola, “wherever it is possible, we + make use of the children. These occupations are amusements for them, + answering to the need of movement and activity natural to their age; and, + in this way, we can employ the grown girls and the women to much better + advantage.” + </p> + <p> + “True, M. Agricola; how well it is all arranged.” + </p> + <p> + “And if you saw what services the urchins in the kitchen render! + Directed by one or two women, they do the work of eight or ten servants.” + </p> + <p> + “In fact,” said Angela, smiling, “at their age, we like + so much to play at cooking dinner. They must be delighted.” + </p> + <p> + “And, in the same way, under pretext of playing at gardening, they + weed the ground, gather the fruit and vegetables, water the flowers, roll + the paths, and so on. In a word, this army of infant-workers, who + generally remain till ten or twelve years of age without being of any + service, are here very useful. Except three hours of school, which is + quite sufficient for them, from the age of six or seven their recreations + are turned to good account, and the dear little creatures, by the saving + of full-grown arms which they effect, actually gain more than they cost; + and then, mademoiselle, do you not think there is something in the + presence of childhood thus mixed up with every labor—something mild, + pure, almost sacred, which has its influence on our words and actions, and + imposes a salutary reserve? The coarsest man will respect the presence of + children.” + </p> + <p> + “The more one reflects, the more one sees that everything here is + really designed for the happiness of all!” said Angela, in + admiration. + </p> + <p> + “It has not been done without trouble. It was necessary to conquer + prejudices, and break through customs. But see, Mdlle. Angela! here we are + at the kitchen,” added the smith, smiling; “is it not as + imposing as that of a barrack or a public school?” + </p> + <p> + Indeed, the culinary department of the Common Dwelling-house was immense. + All its utensils were bright and clean; and thanks to the marvellous and + economical inventions of modern science (which are always beyond the reach + of the poorer classes, to whom they are most necessary, because they can + only be practised on a large scale), not only the fire on the hearth, and + in the stoves, was fed with half the quantity of fuel that would have been + consumed by each family individually, but the excess of the caloric + sufficed, with the aid of well-constructed tubes, to spread a mild and + equal warmth through all parts of the house. And here also children, under + the direction of two women, rendered numerous services. Nothing could be + more comic than the serious manner in which they performed their culinary + functions; it was the same with the assistance they gave in the bakehouse, + where, at an extraordinary saving in the price (for they bought flour + wholesale), they made an excellent household bread, composed of pure wheat + and rye, so preferable to that whiter bread, which too often owes its + apparent qualities to some deleterious substance. + </p> + <p> + “Good-day, Dame Bertrand,” said Agricola, gayly, to a worthy + matron, who was gravely contemplating the slow evolution of several spits, + worthy of Gamache’s Wedding so heavily were they laden with pieces + of beef, mutton, and veal, which began to assume a fine golden brown color + of the most attractive kind; “good-day, Dame Bertrand. According to + the rule, I do not pass the threshold of the kitchen. I only wish it to be + admired by this young lady, who is a new-comer amongst us.” + </p> + <p> + “Admire, my lad, pray admire—and above all take notice, how + good these brats are, and how well they work!” So saying, the matron + pointed with the long ladle, which served her as a sceptre, to some + fifteen children of both sexes, seated round a table, and deeply absorbed + in the exercise of their functions, which consisted in peeling potatoes + and picking herbs. + </p> + <p> + “We are, I see, to have a downright Belshazzar’s feast, Dame + Bertrand?” said Agricola, laughing. + </p> + <p> + “Faith, a feast like we have always, my lad. Here is our bill of + fare for to-day. A good vegetable soup, roast beef with potatoes, salad, + fruit, cheese; and for extras, it being Sunday, some currant tarts made by + Mother Denis at the bakehouse, where the oven is heating now.” + </p> + <p> + “What you tell me, Dame Bertrand, gives me a furious appetite,” + said Agricola, gayly. “One soon knows when it is your turn in the + kitchen,” added he, with a flattering air. + </p> + <p> + “Get along, do!” said the female Soyer on service, merrily. + </p> + <p> + “What astonishes me, so much, M. Agricola,” said Angela, as + they continued their walk, “is the comparison of the insufficient, + unwholesome food of the workmen in our country, with that which is + provided here.” + </p> + <p> + “And yet we do not spend more than twenty-five sous a day, for much + better food than we should get for three francs in Paris.” + </p> + <p> + “But really it is hard to believe, M. Agricola. How is it possible?” + </p> + <p> + “It is thanks to the magic wand of M. Hardy. I will explain it all + presently.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! how impatient I am to see M. Hardy!” + </p> + <p> + “You will soon see him—perhaps to-day; for he is expected + every moment. But here is the refectory, which you do not yet know, as + your family, like many others, prefer dining at home. See what a fine + room, looking out on the garden, just opposite the fountain!” + </p> + <p> + It was indeed a vast hall, built in the form of a gallery, with ten + windows opening on the garden. Tables, covered with shining oil-cloth, + were ranged along the walls, so that, in winter, this apartment served in + the evening, after work, as a place of meeting for those who preferred to + pass an hour together, instead of remaining alone or with their families. + Then, in this large hall, well warmed and brilliantly lighted with gas, + some read, some played cards, some talked, and some occupied themselves + with easy work. + </p> + <p> + “That is not all,” said Agricola to the young girl; “I + am sure you will like this apartment still better when I tell you, that on + Thursdays and Sundays we make a ball-room of it, and on Tuesdays and + Saturdays a concert-room.” + </p> + <p> + “Really!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” continued the smith, proudly, “we have amongst us + musicians, quite capable of tempting us to dance. Moreover, twice a week, + nearly all of us sing in chorus—men, women, and children. + Unfortunately, this week, some disputes that have arisen in the factory + have prevented our concerts.” + </p> + <p> + “So many voices! that must be superb.” + </p> + <p> + “It is very fine, I assure you. M. Hardy has always encouraged this + amusement amongst us, which has, he says—and he is right—so + powerful an effect on the mind and the manners. One winter, he sent for + two pupils of the celebrated Wilhelm, and, since then, our school has made + great progress. I assure you, Mdlle. Angela, that, without flattering + ourselves, there is something truly exciting in the sound of two hundred + voices, singing in chorus some hymn to Labor or Freedom. You shall hear + it, and you will, I think, acknowledge that there is something great and + elevating in the heart of man, in this fraternal harmony of voices, + blending in one grave, sonorous, imposing sound.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! I believe it. But what happiness to inhabit here. It is a life + of joy; for labor, mixed with recreation, becomes itself a pleasure.” + </p> + <p> + “Alas! here, as everywhere, there are tears and sorrows,” + replied Agricola, sadly. “Do you see that isolated building, in a + very exposed situation?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; what is it?” + </p> + <p> + “That is our hospital for the sick. Happily, thanks to our healthy + mode of life, it is not often full; an annual subscription enables us to + have a good doctor. Moreover, a mutual benefit society is arranged in such + a manner amongst us, that any one of us, in case of illness, receives two + thirds of what he would have gained in health.” + </p> + <p> + “How well it is all managed! And there, M. Agricola, on the other + side of the grass-plot?” + </p> + <p> + “That is the wash-house, with water laid on, cold and hot; and under + yonder shed is the drying-place: further on, you see the stables, and the + lofts and granaries for the provender of the factory horses.” + </p> + <p> + “But M. Agricola, will you tell me the secret of all these wonders?” + </p> + <p> + “In ten minutes you shall understand it all, mademoiselle.” + </p> + <p> + Unfortunately, Angela’s curiosity was for a while disappointed. The + girl was now standing with Agricola close to the iron gate, which shut in + the garden from the broad avenue that separated the factory from the + Common Dwelling-house. Suddenly, the wind brought from the distance the + sound of trumpets and military music; then was heard the gallop of two + horses, approaching rapidly, and soon after a general officer made his + appearance, mounted on a fine black charger, with a long flowing tail and + crimson housings; he wore cavalry boots and white breeches, after the + fashion of the empire; his uniform glittered with gold embroidery, the red + ribbon of the Legion of Honor was passed over his right epaulet, with its + four silver stars, and his hat had a broad gold border, and was crowned + with a white plume, the distinctive sign reserved for the marshals of + France. No warrior could have had a more martial and chivalrous air, or + have sat more proudly on his war-horse. At the moment Marshal Simon (for + it was he) arrived opposite the place where Angela and Agricola were + standing, he drew up his horse suddenly, sprang lightly to the ground, and + threw the golden reins to a servant in livery, who followed also on + horseback. + </p> + <p> + “Where shall I wait for your grace?” asked the groom. + </p> + <p> + “At the end of the avenue,” said the marshal. + </p> + <p> + And, uncovering his head respectfully, he advanced hastily with his hat in + his hand, to meet a person whom Angela and Agricola had not previously + perceived. This person soon appeared at a turn of the avenue; he was an + old man, with an energetic, intelligent countenance. He wore a very neat + blouse, and a cloth cap over his long, white hair. With his hands in his + pocket, he was quietly smoking an old meerschaum pipe. + </p> + <p> + “Good-morning, father,” said the marshal, respectfully, as he + affectionately embraced the old workman, who, having tenderly returned the + pressure, said to him: “Put on your hat, my boy. But how gay we are!” + added he, with a smile. + </p> + <p> + “I have just been to a review, father, close by; and I took the + opportunity to call on you as soon as possible.” + </p> + <p> + “But shall I then not see my granddaughters to-day, as I do every + Sunday?” + </p> + <p> + “They are coming in a carriage, father, and Dagobert accompanies + them.” + </p> + <p> + “But what is the matter? you appear full of thought.” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed, father,” said the marshal, with a somewhat agitated + air, “I have serious things to talk about.” + </p> + <p> + “Come in, then,” said the old man, with some anxiety. The + marshal and his father disappeared at the turn of the avenue. + </p> + <p> + Angela had been struck with amazement at seeing this brilliant General, + who was entitled “your grace,” salute an old workman in a + blouse as his father; and, looking at Agricola with a confused air she + said to him: “What, M. Agricola! this old workman—” + </p> + <p> + “Is the father of Marshal Duke de Ligny—the friend—yes, + I may say the friend,” added Agricola, with emotion, “of my + father, who for twenty years served under him in war.’ + </p> + <p> + “To be placed so high, and yet to be so respectful and tender to his + father!” said Angela. “The marshal must have a very noble + heart; but why does he let his father remain a workman?” + </p> + <p> + “Because Father Simon will not quit his trade and the factory for + anything in the world. He was born a workman, and he will die a workman, + though he is the father of a duke and marshal of France.” + </p> + <p> + (29) See Adolphe Bobierre “On Air and Health,” Paris, 1844. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0104" id="link2HCH0104"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER LI. THE SECRET. + </h2> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">W</span>hen the very + natural astonishment which the arrival of Marshal Simon had caused in + Angela had passed away, Agricola said to her with a smile: “I do not + wish to take advantage of this circumstance, Mdlle. Angela, to spare you + the account of the secret, by which all the wonders of our Common + Dwelling-house are brought to pass.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! I should not have let you forget your promise, M. Agricola,” + answered Angela, “what you have already told me interests me too + much for that.” + </p> + <p> + “Listen, then. M. Hardy, like a true magician, has pronounced three + cabalistic words: ASSOCIATION—COMMUNITY—FRATERNITY. We have + understood the sense of these words, and the wonders you have seen have + sprung from them, to our great advantage; and also, I repeat, to the great + advantage of M. Hardy.” + </p> + <p> + “It is that which appears so extraordinary, M. Agricola.” + </p> + <p> + “Suppose, mademoiselle, that M. Hardy, instead of being what he is, + had only been a cold-hearted speculator, looking merely to the profit, and + saying to himself: ‘To make the most of my factory, what is needed? + Good work—great economy in the raw material—full employment of + the workman’s time; in a word, cheapness of manufacture, in order to + produce cheaply—excellence of the thing produced, in order to sell + dear.’” + </p> + <p> + “Truly, M. Agricola, no manufacturer could desire more.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, mademoiselle, these conditions might have been fulfilled, as + they have been, but how? Had M. Hardy only been a speculator, he might + have said: ‘At a distance from my factory, my workmen might have + trouble to get there: rising earlier, they will sleep less; it is a bad + economy to take from the sleep so necessary to those who toil. When they + get feeble, the work suffers for it; then the inclemency of the seasons + makes it worse; the workman arrives wet, trembling with cold, enervated + before he begins to work—and then, what work!’” + </p> + <p> + “It is unfortunately but too true, M. Agricola. At Lille, when I + reached the factory, wet through with a cold rain, I used sometimes to + shiver all day long at my work.” + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:65%;"> + <img src="images/20485m.jpg" alt="20485m” width=" /><br /> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/20485.jpg"><i>Original</i></a> + </h5> + <p> + “Therefore, Mdlle. Angela, the speculator might say: ‘To lodge + my workmen close to the door of my factory would obviate this + inconvenience. Let us make the calculation. In Paris the married workman + pays about two hundred and fifty francs a-year,(30) for one or two + wretched rooms and a closet, dark, small, unhealthy, in a narrow, + miserable street; there he lives pell-mell with his family. What ruined + constitutions are the consequence! and what sort of work can you expect + from a feverish and diseased creature? As for the single men, they pay for + a smaller, and quite as unwholesome lodging, about one hundred and fifty + francs a-year. Now, let us make the addition. I employ one hundred and + forty-six married workmen, who pay together, for their wretched holes, + thirty-six thousand five hundred francs; I employ also one hundred and + fifteen bachelors, who pay at the rate of seventeen thousand two hundred + and eighty francs; the total will amount to about fifty thousand francs + per annum, the interest on a million.”’ + </p> + <p> + “Dear me, M. Agricola! what a sum to be produced by uniting all + these little rents together!” + </p> + <p> + “You see, mademoiselle, that fifty thousand francs a-year is a + millionaire’s rent. Now, what says our speculator: To induce our + workmen to leave Paris, I will offer them, enormous advantages. I will + reduce their rent one-half, and, instead of small, unwholesome rooms, they + shall have large, airy apartments, well-warmed and lighted, at a trifling + charge. Thus, one hundred and forty-six families, paying me only one + hundred and twenty-five francs a-year, and one hundred and fifteen + bachelors, seventy-five francs, I shall have a total of twenty-six to + twenty-seven thousand francs. Now, a building large enough to hold all + these people would cost me at most five hundred thousand francs.(31) I + shall then have invested my money at five per cent at the least, and with + perfect security, since the wages is a guarantee for the payment of the + rent.’” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, M. Agricola! I begin to understand how it may sometimes be + advantageous to do good, even in a pecuniary sense.” + </p> + <p> + “And I am almost certain, mademoiselle, that, in the long run, + affairs conducted with uprightness and honesty turn out well. But to + return to our speculator. ‘Here,’ will he say, ‘are my + workmen, living close to my factory, well lodged, well warmed, and + arriving always fresh at their work. That is not all; the English workman + who eats good beef, and drinks good beer, does twice as much, in the same + time, as the French workman,(32) reduced to a detestable kind of food, + rather weakening than the reverse, thanks to the poisonous adulteration of + the articles he consumes. My workmen will then labor much better, if they + eat much better. How shall I manage it without loss? Now I think of it, + what is the food in barracks, schools, even prisons? Is it not the union + of individual resources which procures an amount of comfort impossible to + realize without such an association? Now, if my two hundred and sixty + workmen, instead of cooking two hundred and sixty detestable dinners, were + to unite to prepare one good dinner for all of them, which might be done, + thanks to the savings of all sorts that would ensue, what an advantage for + me and them! Two or three women, aided by children, would suffice to make + ready the daily repasts; instead of buying wood and charcoal in + fractions,(33) and so paying for it double its value, the association of + my workmen would, upon my security (their wages would be an efficient + security for me in return), lay in their own stock of wood, flour, butter, + oil, wine, etc., all which they would procure directly from the producers. + Thus, they would pay three or four sous for a bottle of pure wholesome + wine, instead of paying twelve or fifteen sous for poison. Every week the + association would buy a whole ox, and some sheep, and the women would make + bread, as in the country. Finally, with these resources, and order, and + economy, my workmen may have wholesome, agreeable, and sufficient food, + for from twenty to twenty-five sous a day.’” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! this explains it, M. Agricola.” + </p> + <p> + “It is not all, mademoiselle. Our cool-headed speculator would + continue: ‘Here are my workmen well lodged, well warmed, well fed, + with a saving of at least half; why should they not also be warmly clad? + Their health will then have every chance of being good, and health is + labor. The association will buy wholesale, and at the manufacturing price + (still upon my security, secured to me by their wages), warm, good, strong + materials, which a portion of the workmen’s wives will be able to + make into clothes as well as any tailor. Finally, the consumption of caps + and shoes being considerable, the association will obtain them at a great + reduction in price.’ Well, Mdlle. Angela! what do you say to our + speculator?” + </p> + <p> + “I say, M. Agricola,” answered the young girl; with ingenuous + admiration, “that it is almost incredible, and yet so simple!” + </p> + <p> + “No doubt, nothing is more simple than the good and beautiful, and + yet we think of it so seldom. Observe, that our man has only been speaking + with a view to his own interest—only considering the material side + of the question—reckoning for nothing the habit of fraternity and + mutual aid, which inevitably springs from living together in common—not + reflecting that a better mode of life improves and softens the character + of man—not thinking of the support and instruction which the strong + owe to the weak—not acknowledging, in fine, that the honest, active, + and industrious man has a positive right to demand employment from + society, and wages proportionate to the wants of his condition. No, our + speculator only thinks of the gross profits; and yet, you see, he invests + his money in buildings at five per cent., and finds the greatest + advantages in the material comfort of his workmen.” + </p> + <p> + “It is true, M. Agricola.” + </p> + <p> + “And what will you say, mademoiselle, when I prove to you that our + speculator finds also a great advantage in giving to his workmen, in + addition to their regular wages, a proportionate share of his profits?” + </p> + <p> + “That appears to me more difficult to prove, M. Agricola.” + </p> + <p> + “Yet I will convince you of it in a few minutes.” + </p> + <p> + Thus conversing, Angela and Agricola had reached the garden-gate of the + Common Dwelling-house. An elderly woman, dressed plainly, but with care + and neatness, approached Agricola, and asked him: “Has M. Hardy + returned to the factory, sir?” + </p> + <p> + “No, madame; but we expect him hourly.” + </p> + <p> + “To-day, perhaps?” + </p> + <p> + “To-day or to-morrow, madame.” + </p> + <p> + “You cannot tell me at what hour he will be here?” + </p> + <p> + “I do not think it is known, madame, but the porter of the factory, + who also belongs to M. Hardy’s private house, may, perhaps, be able + to inform you.” + </p> + <p> + “I thank you, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “Quite welcome, madame.” + </p> + <p> + “M. Agricola,” said Angela, when the woman who had just + questioned him was gone, “did you remark that this lady was very + pale and agitated?” + </p> + <p> + “I noticed it as you did, mademoiselle; I thought I saw tears + standing in her eyes.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, she seemed to have been crying. Poor woman! perhaps she came + to ask assistance of M. Hardy. But what ails you, M. Agricola? You appear + quite pensive.” + </p> + <p> + Agricola had a vague presentiment that the visit of this elderly woman + with so sad a countenance, had some connection with the adventure of the + young and pretty lady, who, three days before had come all agitated and in + tears to inquire after M. Hardy, and who had learned—perhaps too + late—that she was watched and followed. + </p> + <p> + “Forgive me, mademoiselle,” said Agricola to Angela; “but + the presence of this old lady reminded me of a circumstance, which, + unfortunately, I cannot tell you, for it is a secret that does not belong + to me alone.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! do not trouble yourself, M. Agricola,” answered the young + girl, with a smile; “I am not inquisitive, and what we were talking + of before interests me so much, that I do not wish to hear you speak of + anything else.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, then mademoiselle, I will say a few words more, and you will + be as well informed as I am of the secrets of our association.” + </p> + <p> + “I am listening, M. Agricola.” + </p> + <p> + “Let us still keep in view the speculator from mere interest. + ‘Here are my workmen, says he, ‘in the best possible condition + to do a great deal of work. Now what is to be done to obtain large + profits? Produce cheaply, and sell dear. But there will be no cheapness, + without economy in the use of the raw material, perfection of the + manufacturing process, and celerity of labor. Now, in spite of all my + vigilance, how am I to prevent my workmen from wasting the materials? How + am I to induce them, each in his own province, to seek for the most simple + and least irksome processes?” + </p> + <p> + “True, M. Agricola; how is that to be done?” + </p> + <p> + “‘And that is not all,’ says our man; ‘to sell my + produce at high prices, it should be irreproachable, excellent. My workmen + do pretty well; but that is not enough. I want them to produce + masterpieces.’” + </p> + <p> + “But, M. Agricola, when they have once performed the task set them + what interest have workmen to give themselves a great deal of trouble to + produce masterpieces?” + </p> + <p> + “There it is, Mdlle. Angela; what interest have they? Therefore, our + speculator soon says to himself: ‘That my workmen may have an + interest to be economical in the use of the materials, an interest to + employ their time well, an interest to invent new and better manufacturing + processes, an interest to send out of their hands nothing but masterpieces—I + must give them an interest in the profits earned by their economy, + activity, zeal and skill. The better they manufacture, the better I shall + sell, and the larger will be their gain and mine also.’” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! now I understand, M. Agricola.” + </p> + <p> + “And our speculator would make a good speculation. Before he was + interested, the workman said: ‘What does it matter to me, that I do + more or do better in the course of the day? What shall I gain by it? + Nothing. Well, then, little work for little wages. But now, on the + contrary (he says), I have an interest in displaying zeal and economy. All + is changed. I redouble my activity, and strive to excel the others. If a + comrade is lazy, and likely to do harm to the factory, I have the right to + say to him: ‘Mate, we all suffer more or less from your laziness, + and from the injury you are doing the common weal.’” + </p> + <p> + “And then, M. Agricola, with what ardor, courage, and hope, you must + set to work!” + </p> + <p> + “That is what our speculator counts on; and he may say to himself, + further: ‘Treasures of experience and practical wisdom are often + buried in workshops, for want of goodwill, opportunity, or encouragement. + Excellent workmen, instead of making all the improvements in their power, + follow with indifference the old jog-trot. What a pity! for an intelligent + man, occupied all his life with some special employment, must discover, in + the long run, a thousand ways of doing his work better and quicker. I will + form, therefore, a sort of consulting committee; I will summon to it my + foremen and my most skillful workmen. Our interest is now the same. Light + will necessarily spring from this centre of practical intelligence.’ + Now, the speculator is not deceived in this, and soon struck with the + incredible resources, the thousand new, ingenious, perfect inventions + suddenly revealed by his workmen, ‘Why’ he exclaims, ‘if + you knew this, did you not tell it before? What for the last ten years has + cost me a hundred francs to make, would have cost me only fifty, without + reckoning an enormous saving of time.’ ‘Sir,’ answers + the workman, who is not more stupid than others, ‘what interest had + I, that you should effect a saving of fifty per cent? None. But now it is + different. You give me, besides my wages, a share in your profits; you + raise me in my own esteem, by consulting my experience and knowledge. + Instead of treating me as an inferior being, you enter into communion with + me. It is my interest, it is my duty, to tell you all I know, and to try + to acquire more.’ And thus it is, Mdlle. Angela, that the speculator + can organize his establishment, so as to shame his oppositionists, and + provoke their envy. Now if, instead of a cold hearted calculator, we tape + a man who unites with the knowledge of these facts the tender and generous + sympathies of an evangelical heart, and the elevation of a superior mind, + he will extend his ardent solicitude; not only to the material comfort, + but to the moral emancipation, of his workmen. Seeking everywhere every + possible means to develop their intelligence, to improve their hearts, and + strong in the authority acquired by his beneficence, feeling that he on + whom depends the happiness or the misery of three hundred human creatures + has also the care of souls, he will be the guide of those whom he no + longer calls his workmen, but his brothers, in a straightforward and noble + path, and will try to create in them the taste for knowledge and art, + which will render them happy and proud of a condition of life that is + often accepted by others with tears and curses of despair. Well, Mdlle. + Angela, such a man is—but, see! he could not arrive amongst us + except in the middle of a blessing. There he is—there is M. Hardy!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, M. Agricola!” said Angela, deeply moved, and drying her + tears; “we should receive him with our hands clasped in gratitude.” + </p> + <p> + “Look if that mild and noble countenance is not the image of his + admirable soul!” + </p> + <p> + A carriage with post horses, in which was M. Hardy, with M. de Blessac, + the unworthy friend who was betraying him in so infamous a manner, entered + at this moment the courtyard of the factory. + </p> + <p> + A little while after, a humble hackney-coach was seen advancing also + towards the factory, from the direction of Paris. In this coach was Rodin. + </p> + <p> + (30) The average price of a workman’s lodging, composed of two small + rooms and a closet at most, on the third or fourth story. + </p> + <p> + (31) This calculation is amply sufficient, if not excessive. A similar + building, at one league from Paris, on the side of Montrouge, with all the + necessary offices, kitchen, wash-houses, etc., with gas and water laid on, + apparatus for warming, etc., and a garden of ten acres, cost, at the + period of this narrative, hardly five hundred thousand francs. An + experienced builder less obliged us with an estimate, which confirms what + we advance. It is, therefore, evident, that, even at the same price which + workmen are in the habit of paying, it would be possible to provide them + with perfectly healthy lodgings, and yet invest one’s money at ten + per cent. + </p> + <p> + (32) The fact was proved in the works connected with the Rouen Railway. + Those French workmen who, having no families, were able to live like the + English, did at least as much work as the latter, being strengthened by + wholesome and sufficient nourishment. + </p> + <p> + (33) Buying penny-worths, like all other purchases at minute retail, are + greatly to the poor man’s disadvantage. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0105" id="link2HCH0105"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER LII. REVELATIONS. + </h2> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">D</span>uring the visit of + Angela and Agricola to the Common Dwelling-house, the band of Wolves, + joined upon the road by many of the haunters of taverns, continued to + march towards the factory, which the hackney-coach, that brought Rodin + from Paris, was also fast approaching. M. Hardy, on getting out of the + carriage with his friend, M. de Blessac, had entered the parlor of the + house that he occupied next the factory. M. Hardy was of middle size, with + an elegant and slight figure, which announced a nature essentially nervous + and impressionable. His forehead was broad and open, his complexion pale, + his eyes black, full at once of mildness and penetration, his countenance + honest, intelligent, and attractive. + </p> + <p> + One word will paint the character of M. Hardy. His mother had called him + her Sensitive Plant. His was indeed one of those fine and exquisitely + delicate organizations, which are trusting, loving, noble, generous, but + so susceptible, that the least touch makes them shrink into themselves. If + we join to this excessive sensibility a passionate love for art, a + first-rate intellect, tastes essentially refined, and then think of the + thousand deceptions, and numberless infamies of which M. Hardy must have + been the victim in his career as a manufacturer, we shall wonder how this + heart, so delicate and tender, had not been broken a thousand times, in + its incessant struggle with merciless self-interest. M. Hardy had indeed + suffered much. Forced to follow the career of productive industry, to + honor the engagements of his father, a model of uprightness and probity, + who had yet left his affairs somewhat embarrassed, in consequence of the + events of 1815, he had succeeded, by perseverance and capacity, in + attaining one of the most honorable positions in the commercial world. + But, to arrive at this point, what ignoble annoyances had he to bear with, + what perfidious opposition to combat, what hateful rivalries to tire out! + </p> + <p> + Sensitive as he was, M. Hardy would a thousand times have fallen a victim + to his emotions of painful indignation against baseness, of bitter disgust + at dishonesty, but for the wise and firm support of his mother. When he + returned to her, after a day of painful struggles with odious deceptions, + he found himself suddenly transported into an atmosphere of such + beneficent purity, of such radiant serenity, that he lost almost on the + instant the remembrance of the base things by which he had been so cruelly + tortured during the day; the pangs of his heart were appeased at the mere + contact of her great and lofty soul; and therefore his love for her + resembled idolatry. When he lost her, he experienced one of those calm, + deep sorrows which have no end—which become, as it were, part of + life, and have even sometimes their days of melancholy sweetness. A little + while after this great misfortune, M. Hardy became more closely connected + with his workmen. He had always been a just and good master; but, although + the place that his mother left in his heart would ever remain void, he + felt as it were a redoubled overflowing of the affections, and the more he + suffered, the more he craved to see happy faces around him. The wonderful + ameliorations, which he now produced in the physical and moral condition + of all about him, served, not to divert, but to occupy his grief. Little + by little, he withdrew from the world, and concentrated his life in three + affections: a tender and devoted friendship, which seemed to include all + past friendships—a love ardent and sincere, like a last passion—and + a paternal attachment to his workmen. His days therefore passed in the + heart of that little world, so full of respect and gratitude towards him—a + world, which he had, as it were, created after the image of his mind, that + he might find there a refuge from the painful realities he dreaded, + surrounded with good, intelligent, happy beings, capable of responding to + the noble thoughts which had become more and more necessary to his + existence. Thus, after many sorrows, M. Hardy, arrived at the maturity of + age, possessing a sincere friend, a mistress worthy of his love, and + knowing himself certain of the passionate devotion of his workmen, had + attained, at the period of this history, all the happiness he could hope + for since his mother’s death. + </p> + <p> + M. de Blessac, his bosom friend, had long been worthy of his touching and + fraternal affection; but we have seen by what diabolical means Father d’Aigrigny + and Rodin had succeeded in making M. de Blessac, until then upright and + sincere, the instrument of their machinations. The two friends, who had + felt on their journey a little of the sharp influence of the north wind, + were warming themselves at a good fire lighted in M. Hardy’s parlor. + </p> + <p> + “Oh! my dear Marcel, I begin really to get old,” said M. + Hardy, with a smile, addressing M. de Blessac; “I feel more and more + the want of being at home. To depart from my usual habits has become + painful to me, and I execrate whatever obliges me to leave this happy + little spot of ground.” + </p> + <p> + “And when I think,” answered M. de Blessac, unable to forbear + blushing, “when I think, my friend, that you undertook this long + journey only for my sake!—” + </p> + <p> + “Well, my dear Marcel! have you not just accompanied me in your + turn, in an excursion which, without you, would have been as tiresome as + it has been charming?” + </p> + <p> + “What a difference, my friend! I have contracted towards you a debt + that I can never repay.” + </p> + <p> + “Nonsense, my dear Marcel! Between us, there are no distinctions of + meum and tuum. Besides, in matters of friendship, it is as sweet to give + as to receive.” + </p> + <p> + “Noble heart! noble heart!” + </p> + <p> + “Say, happy heart!—most happy, in the last affections for + which it beats.” + </p> + <p> + “And who, gracious heaven! could deserve happiness on earth, if it + be not you, my friend?” + </p> + <p> + “And to what do I owe that happiness? To the affections which I + found here, ready to sustain me, when deprived of the support of my + mother, who was all my strength, I felt myself (I confess my weakness) + almost incapable of standing up against adversity.” + </p> + <p> + “You, my friend—with so firm and resolute a character in doing + good—you, that I have seen struggle with so much energy and courage, + to secure the triumph of some great and noble idea?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; but the farther I advance in my career, the more am I + disgusted with all base and shameful actions, and the less strength I feel + to encounter them—” + </p> + <p> + “Were it necessary, you would have the courage, my friend.” + </p> + <p> + “My dear Marcel,” replied M. Hardy, with mild and restrained + emotion, “I have often said to you: My courage was my mother. You + see, my friend, when I went to her, with my heart torn by some horrible + ingratitude, or disgusted by some base deceit, she, taking my hands + between her own venerable palms, would say to me in her grave and tender + voice: ‘My dear child, it is for the ungrateful and dishonest to + suffer; let us pity the wicked, let us forget evil, and only think of + good.’—Then, my friend, this heart, painfully contracted, + expanded beneath the sacred influence of the maternal words, and every day + I gathered strength from her, to recommence on the morrow a cruel struggle + with the sad necessities of my condition. Happily, it has pleased God, + that, after losing that beloved mother, I have been able to bind up my + life with affections, deprived of which, I confess, I should find myself + feeble and disarmed for you cannot tell, Marcel, the support, the strength + that I have found in your friendship.” + </p> + <p> + “Do not speak of me, my dear friend,” replied M. de Blessac, + dissembling his embarrassment. “Let us talk of another affection, + almost as sweet and tender as that of a mother.” + </p> + <p> + “I understand you, my good Marcel,” replied M. Hardy: “I + have concealed nothing from you since, under such serious circumstances, I + had recourse to the counsels of your friendship. Well! yes; I think that + every day I live augment my adoration for this woman, the only one that I + have ever passionately loved, the only one that I shall now ever love. And + then I must tell you, that my mother, not knowing what Margaret was to me, + as often loud in her praise, and that circumstance renders this love + almost sacred in my eyes.” + </p> + <p> + “And then there are such strange resemblances between Mme. de Noisy’s + character and yours, my friend; above all, in her worship of her mother.” + </p> + <p> + “It is true, Marcel; that affection has often caused me both + admiration and torment. How often she has said to me, with her habitual + frankness: ‘I have sacrificed all for you, but I would sacrifice you + for my mother.’” + </p> + <p> + “Thank heaven, my friend, you will never see Mme. de Noisy exposed + to that cruel choice. Her mother, you say, has long renounced her + intention of returning to America, where M. de Noisy, perfectly careless + of his wife, appears to have settled himself permanently. Thanks to the + discreet devotion of the excellent woman by whom Margaret was brought up, + your love is concealed in the deepest mystery. What could disturb it now?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing—oh! nothing,” cried M. Hardy. “I have + almost security for its duration.” + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean, my friend?” + </p> + <p> + “I do not know if I ought to tell you.” + </p> + <p> + “Have you ever found me indiscreet, my friend?” + </p> + <p> + “You, good Marcel! how can you suppose such a thing?” said M. + Hardy, in a tone of friendly reproach; “no! but I do not like to + tell you of my happiness, till it is complete; and I am not yet quite + certain—” + </p> + <p> + A servant entered at this moment and said to M. Hardy: “Sir, there + is an old gentleman who wishes to speak to you on very pressing business.” + </p> + <p> + “So soon!” said M. Hardy, with a slight movement of + impatience. “With your permission, my friend.” Then, as M. de + Blessac seemed about to withdraw into the next room, M. Hardy added with a + smile: “No, no; do not stir. Your presence will shorten the + interview.” + </p> + <p> + “But if it be a matter of business, my friend?” + </p> + <p> + “I do everything openly, as you know.” Then, addressing the + servant, M. Hardy bade him: “Ask the gentleman to walk in.” + </p> + <p> + “The postilion wishes to know if he is to wait?” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly: he will take M. de Blessac back to Paris.” + </p> + <p> + The servant withdrew, and presently returned, introducing Rodin, with whom + M. de Blessac was not acquainted, his treacherous bargain having been + negotiated through another agent. + </p> + <p> + “M. Hardy?” said Rodin, bowing respectfully to the two + friends, and looking from one to the other with an air of inquiry. + </p> + <p> + “That is my name, sir; what can I do to serve you?” answered + the manufacturer, kindly; for, at first sight of the humble and + ill-dressed old man, he expected an application for assistance. + </p> + <p> + “M. Francois Hardy,” repeated Rodin, as if he wished to make + sure of the identity of the person. + </p> + <p> + “I have had the honor to tell you that I am he.” + </p> + <p> + “I have a private communication to make to you, sir,” said + Rodin. + </p> + <p> + “You may speak, sir. This gentleman is my friend,” said M. + Hardy, pointing to M. de Blessac. + </p> + <p> + “But I wish to speak to you alone, sir,” resumed Rodin. + </p> + <p> + M. de Blessac was again about to withdraw, when M. Hardy retained him with + a glance, and said to Rodin kindly, for he thought his feelings might be + hurt by asking a favor in presence of a third party: “Permit me to + inquire if it is on your account or on mine, that you wish this interview + to be secret?” + </p> + <p> + “On your account entirely, sir,” answered Rodin. + </p> + <p> + “Then, sir,” said M. Hardy, with some surprise, “you may + speak out. I have no secrets from this gentleman.” + </p> + <p> + After a moment’s silence, Rodin resumed, addressing himself to M. + Hardy: “Sir, you deserve, I know, all the good that is said of you; + and you therefore command the sympathy of every honest man.” + </p> + <p> + “I hope so, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “Now, as an honest man, I come to render you a service.” + </p> + <p> + “And this service, sir—” + </p> + <p> + “To reveal to you an infamous piece of treachery, of which you have + been the victim.” + </p> + <p> + “I think, sir, you must be deceived.” + </p> + <p> + “I have the proofs of what I assert.” + </p> + <p> + “Proofs?” + </p> + <p> + “The written proofs of the treachery that I come to reveal: I have + them here,” answered Rodin “In a word, a man whom you believed + your friend, has shamefully deceived you, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “And the name of this man?” + </p> + <p> + “M. Marcel de Blessac,” replied Rodin. + </p> + <p> + On these words, M. de Blessac started, and became pale as death. He could + hardly murmur: “Sir—” + </p> + <p> + But, without looking at his friend, or perceiving his agitation, M. Hardy + seized his hand, and exclaimed hastily: “Silence, my friend!” + Then, whilst his eye flashed with indignation, he turned towards Rodin, + who had not ceased to look him full in the face, and said to him, with an + air of lofty disdain: “What! do you accuse M. de Blessac?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I accuse him,” replied Rodin, briefly. + </p> + <p> + “Do you know him?” + </p> + <p> + “I have never seen him.” + </p> + <p> + “Of what do you accuse him? And how dare you say that he has + betrayed me?” + </p> + <p> + “Two words, if you please,” said Rodin, with an emotion which + he appeared hardly able to restrain. “If one man of honor sees + another about to be slain by an assassin, ought he not give the alarm of + murder?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir; but what has that to do—” + </p> + <p> + “In my eyes, sir, certain treasons are as criminal as murders: I + have come to place myself between the assassin and his victim.” + </p> + <p> + “The assassin? the victim?” said M. Hardy more and more + astonished. + </p> + <p> + “You doubtless know M. de Blessac’s writing?” said + Rodin. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “Then read this,” said Rodin, drawing from his pocket a + letter, which he handed to M. Hardy. + </p> + <p> + Casting now for the first time a glance at M. de Blessac, the manufacturer + drew back a step, terrified at the death-like paleness of this man, who, + struck dumb with shame, could not find a word to justify himself; for he + was far from possessing the audacious effrontery necessary to carry him + through his treachery. + </p> + <p> + “Marcel!” cried M. Hardy, in alarm, and deeply agitated by + this unexpected blow. “Marcel! how pale you are! you do not answer!” + </p> + <p> + “Marcel! this, then, is M. de Blessac?” cried Rodin, feigning + the most painful surprise. “Oh, sir, if I had known—” + </p> + <p> + “But don’t you hear this man, Marcel?” cried M. Hardy. + “He says that you have betrayed me infamously.” He seized the + hand of M. de Blessac. That hand was cold as ice. “Oh, God! Oh God!” + said M. Hardy, drawing back in horror: “he makes no answer!” + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:65%;"> + <img src="images/20493m.jpg" alt="20493m” width=" /><br /> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/20493.jpg"><i>Original</i></a> + </h5> + <p> + “Since I am in presence of M. de Blessac,” resumed Rodin, + “I am forced to ask him, if he can deny having addressed many + letters to the Rue du Milieu des Ursins, at Paris under cover of M. Rodin.” + </p> + <p> + M. de Blessac remained dumb. M. Hardy, still unwilling to believe what he + saw and heard, convulsively tore open the letter, which Rodin had just + delivered to him, and read the first few lines—interrupting the + perusal with exclamations of grief and amazement. He did not require to + finish the letter, to convince himself of the black treachery of M. de + Blessac. He staggered; for a moment his senses seemed to abandon him. The + horrible discovery made him giddy, and his head swam on his first look + down into that abyss of infamy. The loathsome letter dropped from his + trembling hands. But soon indignation, rage, and scorn succeeded this + moment of despair, and rushing, pale and terrible, upon M. de Blessac: + “Wretch!” he exclaimed, with a threatening gesture. But, + pausing as in the act to strike: “No!” he added, with fearful + calmness. “It would be to soil my hands.” + </p> + <p> + He turned towards Rodin, who had approached hastily, as if to interpose. + “It is not worth while chastising a wretch,” said M. Hardy; + “But I will press your honest hand, sir—for you have had the + courage to unmask a traitor and a coward.” + </p> + <p> + “Sir!” cried M. de Blessac, overcome with shame; “I am + at your orders—and—” + </p> + <p> + He could not finish. The sound of voices was heard behind the door, which + opened violently, and an aged woman entered, in spite of the efforts of + the servant, exclaiming in an agitated voice: “I tell you, I must + speak instantly to your master.” + </p> + <p> + On hearing this voice, and at sight of the pale, weeping woman, M. Hardy, + forgetting M. de Blessac, Rodin, the infamous treachery, and all, fell + back a step, and exclaimed: “Madame Duparc! you here! What is the + matter?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, sir! a great misfortune—” + </p> + <p> + “Margaret!” cried M. Hardy, in a tone of despair. + </p> + <p> + “She is gone, sir!” + </p> + <p> + “Gone!” repeated M. Hardy, as horror-struck as if a + thunderbolt had fallen at his feet. “Margaret gone!” + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:65%;"> + <img src="images/20501m.jpg" alt="20501m” width=" /><br /> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/20501.jpg"><i>Original</i></a> + </h5> + <p> + “All is discovered. Her mother took her away—three days ago!” + said the unhappy woman, in a failing voice. + </p> + <p> + “Gone! Margaret! It is not true. You deceive me,” cried M. + Hardy. Refusing to hear more, wild, despairing, he rushed out of the + house, threw himself into his carriage, to which the post-horses were + still harnessed, waiting for M. de Blessac, and said to the postilion: + “To Paris! as fast as you can go!” + </p> + <p> + As the carriage, rapid as lightning, started upon the road to Paris, the + wind brought nearer the distant sound of the war-song of the Wolves, who + were rushing towards the factory. In this impending destruction, see Rodin’s + subtle hand, administering his fatal blows to clear his way up to the + chair of St. Peter to which he aspired. His tireless, wily course can + hardly be darker shadowed by aught save that dread coming horror the + Cholera, whose aid he evoked, and whose health the Bacchanal Queen wildly + drank. + </p> + <p> + That once gay girl, and her poor famished sister; the fair patrician and + her Oriental lover; Agricola, the workman, and his veteran father; the + smiling Rose-Pompon, and the prematurely withered Jacques Rennepont; + Father d’Aigrigny, the mock priest; and Gabriel, the true disciple; + with the rest that have been named and others yet to be pictured, in the + blaze of the bolts of their life’s paths, will be seen in the third + and concluding part of this romance entitled, + </p> + <p> + “THE WANDERING JEW: REDEMPTION.” <a name="link2H_4_0120" + id="link2H_4_0120"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + BOOK VIII. + </h2> + <p> + <a name="link2H_PART3" id="link2H_PART3"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + PART THIRD.—THE REDEMPTION. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I. The Wandering Jew’s Chastisement II. The Descendants of + the Wandering Jew III. The Attack IV. The Wolves and the + Devourers V. The Return VI. The Go-Between VII. Another + Secret VIII. The Confession IX. Love X. The Execution XI. + The Champs-Elysees XII. Behind the Scenes XIII. Up with the + Curtain XIV. Death +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0106" id="link2HCH0106"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER I. THE WANDERING JEW’S CHASTISEMENT. + </h2> + <p> + ‘Tis night—the moon is brightly shining, the brilliant stars + are sparkling in a sky of melancholy calmness, the shrill whistlings of a + northerly wind—cold, bleak, and evil-bearing—are increasing: + winding about, and bursting into violent blasts, with their harsh and + hissing gusts, they are sweeping the heights of Montmartre. A man is + standing on the very summit of the hill; his lengthened shadow, thrown out + by the moon’s pale beams, darkens the rocky ground in the distance. + The traveller is surveying the huge city lying at his feet—the City + of Paris—from whose profundities are cast up its towers, cupolas, + domes, and steeples, in the bluish moisture of the horizon; while from the + very centre of this sea of stones is rising a luminous vapor, reddening + the starry azure of the sky above. It is the distant light of a myriad + lamps which at night, the season for pleasure, is illuminating the noisy + capital. + </p> + <p> + “No!” said the traveller, “it will not be. The Lord + surely will not suffer it. Twice is quite enough. Five centuries ago, the + avenging hand of the Almighty drove me hither from the depths of Asia. A + solitary wanderer, I left in my track more mourning, despair, disaster, + and death, than the innumerable armies of a hundred devastating conquerors + could have produced. I then entered this city, and it was decimated. Two + centuries ago that inexorable hand which led me through the world again + conducted me here; and on that occasion, as on the previous one, that + scourge, which at intervals the Almighty binds to my footsteps, ravaged + this city, attacking first my brethren, already wearied by wretchedness + and toil. My brethren! through me—the laborer of Jerusalem, cursed + by the Lord, who in my person cursed the race of laborers—a race + always suffering, always disinherited, always slaves, who like me, go on, + on, on, without rest or intermission, without recompense, or hope; until + at length, women, men, children, and old men, die under their iron yoke of + self-murder, that others in their turn then take up, borne from age to age + on their willing but aching shoulders. And here again, for the third time, + in the course of five centuries, I have arrived at the summit of one of + the hills which overlooks the city; and perhaps I bring again with me + terror, desolation, and death. And this unhappy city, intoxicated in a + whirl of joys, and nocturnal revelries, knows nothing about it—oh! + it knows not that I am at its very gate. But no! no! my presence will not + be a source of fresh calamity to it. The Lord, in His unsearchable wisdom, + has brought me hither across France, making me avoid on my route all but + the humblest villages, so that no increase of the funeral knell has, + marked my journey. And then, moreover, the spectre has left me—that + spectre, livid and green, with its deep bloodshot eyes. When I touched the + soil of France, its moist and icy hand abandoned mine—it + disappeared. And yet I feel the atmosphere of death surrounding me still. + There is no cessation; the biting gusts of this sinister wind, which + envelop me in their breath, seem by their envenomed breath to propagate + the scourge. Doubtless the anger of the Lord is appeased. Maybe, my + presence here is meant only as a threat, intending to bring those to their + senses whom it ought to intimidate. It must be so; for were it otherwise, + it would, on the contrary, strike a loud-sounding blow of greater terror, + casting at once dread and death into the very heart of the country, into + the bosom of this immense city. Oh, no! no! the Lord will have mercy; He + will not condemn me to this new affliction. Alas! in this city my brethren + are more numerous and more wretched than in any other. And must I bring + death to them? No! the Lord will have mercy; for, alas! the seven + descendants of my sister are at last all united in this city. And must I + bring death to them? Death! instead of that immediate assistance they + stand so much in need of? For that woman who, like myself, wanders from + one end of the world into the other, has gone now on her everlasting + journey, after having confounded their enemies’ plots. In vain did + she foretell that great evils still threatened those who are akin to me + through my sister’s blood. The unseen hand by which I am led, drives + that woman away from me, even as though it were a whirlwind that swept her + on. In vain she entreated and implored at the moment she was leaving those + who are so dear to me.—At least, 0 Lord, permit me to stay until I + shall have finished my task! Onward! A few days, for mercy’s sake, + only a few days! Onward! I leave these whom I am protecting on the very + brink of an abyss! Onward! Onward!! And the wandering star is launched + afresh on its perpetual course. But her voice traversed through space, + calling me to the assistance of my own! When her voice reached me I felt + that the offspring of my sister were still exposed to fearful dangers: + those dangers are still increasing. Oh, say, say, Lord! shall the + descendants of my sister escape those woes which for so many centuries + have oppressed my race? Wilt Thou pardon me in them? Wilt Thou punish me + in them? Oh! lead them, that they may obey the last wishes of their + ancestor. Guide them, that they may join their charitable hearts, their + powerful strength, their best wisdom, and their immense wealth, and work + together for the future happiness of mankind, thereby, perhaps, enabled to + ransom me from my eternal penalties. Let those divine words of the Son of + Man, ‘Love ye one another!’ be their only aim; and by the + assistance of their all-powerful words, let them contend against and + vanquish those false priests who have trampled on the precepts of love, of + peace, and hope commanded by the Saviour, setting up in their stead the + precepts of hatred, violence, and despair. Those false shepherds, + supported ay the powerful and wealthy of the world, who in all times have + been their accomplices, instead of asking here below a little happiness + for my brethren, who have been suffering and groaning for centuries, dare + to utter, in Thy name, O Lord! that the poor must always be doomed to the + tortures of this world, and that it is criminal in Thine eyes that they + should either wish for or hope a mitigation of their sufferings on earth, + because the happiness of the few and the wretchedness of nearly all + mankind is Thine almighty will. Blasphemies! is it not the contrary of + these homicidal words that is more worthy of the name of Divine will? + Hear, me, O Lord! for mercy’s sake. Snatch from their enemies the + descendants of my sister, from the artisan up to the king’s son. Do + not permit them to crush the germ of a mighty and fruitful association, + which, perhaps, under Thy protection, may take its place among the records + of the happiness of mankind. Suffer me, O Lord! to unite those whom they + are endeavoring to divide—to defend those whom they are attacking. + Suffer me to bring hope to those from whom hope has fled, to give courage + to those who are weak, to uphold those whom evil threatens, and to sustain + those who would persevere in well-doing. And then, perhaps, their + struggles, their devotedness, their virtues, this miseries might expiate + my sin. Yes, mine—misfortune, misfortune alone, made me unjust and + wicked. O Lord! since Thine almighty hand hath brought me hither, for some + end unknown to me, disarm Thyself, I implore Thee, of Thine anger, and let + not me be the instrument of Thy vengeance! There is enough of mourning in + the earth these two years past—Thy creatures have fallen by millions + in my footsteps. The world is decimated. A veil of mourning extends from + one end of the globe to the other. I have traveled from Asia even to the + Frozen Pole, and death has followed in my wake. Dost Thou not hear, O + Lord! the universal wailings that mount up to Thee? Have mercy upon all, + and upon me. One day, grant me but a single day, that I may collect the + descendants of my sister together, and save them!” And uttering + these words, the wanderer fell upon his knees, and raised his hands to + heaven in a suppliant attitude. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly, the wind howled with redoubled violence; its sharp whistlings + changed to a tempest. The Wanderer trembled, and exclaimed in a voice of + terror, “O Lord! the blast of death is howling in its rage. It + appears as though a whirlwind were lifting me up. Lord, wilt Thou not, + then, hear my prayer? The spectre! O! do I behold the spectre? Yes, there + it is; its cadaverous countenance is agitated by convulsive throes, its + red eyes are rolling in their orbits. Begone! begone! Oh! its hand—its + icy hand has seized on mine! Mercy, Lord, have mercy! ‘Onward!’ + Oh, Lord! this scourge, this terrible avenging scourge! Must I, then, + again carry it into this city, must my poor wretched brethren be the first + to fall under it—though already so miserable? Mercy, mercy! ‘Onward!’ + And the descendants of my sister—oh, pray, have mercy, mercy! + ‘Onward!’ O Lord, have pity on me! I can no longer keep my + footing on the ground, the spectre is dragging me over the brow of the + hill; my course is as rapid as the death-bearing wind that whistles in my + track; I already approach the walls of the city. Oh, mercy, Lord, mercy on + the descendants of my sister—spare them! do not compel me to be + their executioner, and let them triumph over their enemies. Onward, + onward! The ground is fleeing from under me; I am already at the city + gate; oh, yet, Lord, yet there is time; oh, have mercy on this slumbering + city, that it may not even now awaken with the lamentations of terror, of + despair and death! O Lord, I touch the threshold of the gate; verily Thou + willest it so then. ‘Tis done—Paris! the scourge is in thy + bosom! oh, cursed, cursed evermore am I. Onward! on! on!”(34) + </p> + <p> + (34) In 1346, the celebrated Black Death ravaged the earth, presenting the + same symptoms as the cholera, and the same inexplicable phenomena as to + its progress and the results in its route. In 1660 a similar epidemic + decimated the world. It is well known that when the cholera first broke + out in Paris, it had taken a wide and unaccountable leap; and, also + memorable, a north-east wind prevailed during its utmost fierceness. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0107" id="link2HCH0107"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER II. THE DESCENDANTS OF THE WANDERING JEW. + </h2> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>hat lonely + wayfarer whom we have heard so plaintively urging to be relieved of his + gigantic burden of misery, spoke of “his sister’s descendants” + being of all ranks, from the working man to the king’s son. They + were seven in number, who had, in the year 1832, been led to Paris, + directly or indirectly, by a bronze medal which distinguished them from + others, bearing these words:-VICTIM of L. C. D. J. Pray for me! + </p> + <p> + ——-PARIS, February the 13th, 1682. + </p> + <p> + IN PARIS, Rue St. Francois, No. 3, In a century and a half you will be. + February the 13th, 1832. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + ——-PRAY FOR ME! +</pre> + <p> + The son of the King of Mundi had lost his father and his domains in India + by the irresistible march of the English, and was but in title Prince + Djalma. Spite of attempts to make his departure from the East delayed + until after the period when he could have obeyed his medal’s + command, he had reached France by the second month of 1832. Nevertheless, + the results of shipwreck had detained him from Paris till after that date. + A second possessor of this token had remained unaware of its existence, + only discovered by accident. But an enemy who sought to thwart the union + of these seven members, had shut her up in a mad-house, from which she was + released only after that day. Not alone was she in imprisonment. An old + Bonapartist, General Simon, Marshal of France, and Duke de Ligny, had left + a wife in Russian exile, while he (unable to follow Napoleon to St. + Helena) continued to fight the English in India by means of Prince Djalma’s + Sepoys, whom he drilled. On the latter’s defeat, he had meant to + accompany his young friend to Europe, induced the more by finding that the + latter’s mother, a Frenchwoman, had left him such another bronze + medal as he knew his wife to have had. + </p> + <p> + Unhappily, his wife had perished in Siberia, without his knowing it, any + more than he did, that she had left twin daughters, Rose and Blanche. + Fortunately for them, one who had served their father in the Grenadiers of + the Guard. Francis Baudoin, nicknamed Dagobert, undertook to fulfil the + dying mother’s wishes, inspired by the medal. Saving a check at + Leipsic, where one Morok the lion-tamer’s panther had escaped from + its cage and killed Dagobert’s horse, and a subsequent imprisonment + (which the Wandering Jew’s succoring hand had terminated) the + soldier and his orphan charges had reached Paris in safety and in time. + But there, a renewal of the foe’s attempt had gained its end. By + skillful devices, Dagobert and his son Agricola were drawn out of the way + while Rose and Blanche Simon were decoyed into a nunnery, under the eyes + of Dagobert’s wife. But she had been bound against interfering by + the influence of the Jesuit confessional. The fourth was M. Hardy, a + manufacturer, and the fifth, Jacques Rennepont, a drunken scamp of a + workman, who were more easily fended off, the latter in a sponging house, + the former by a friend’s lure. Adrienne de Cardoville, daughter of + the Count of Rennepont, who had also been Duke of Cardoville, was the lady + who had been unwarrantably placed in the lunatic asylum. The fifth, + unaware of the medal, was Gabriel, a youth, who had been brought up, + though a foundling, in Dagobert’s family, as a brother to Agricola. + He had entered holy orders, and more, was a Jesuit, in name though not in + heart. Unlike the others, his return from abroad had been smoothed. He had + signed away all his future prospects, for the benefit of the order of + Loyola, and, moreover, executed a more complete deed of transfer on the + day, the 13th of February, 1832, when he, alone of the heirs, stood in the + room of the house, No. 3, Rue St. Francois, claiming what was a vast + surprise for the Jesuits, who, a hundred and fifty years before, had + discovered that Count Marius de Rennepont had secreted a considerable + amount of his wealth, all of which had been confiscated to them, in those + painful days of dragoonings, and the revocation of the Edict of Nantes. + They had bargained for some thirty or forty millions of francs to be + theirs, by educating Gabriel into resigning his inheritance to them, but + it was two hundred and twelve millions which the Jesuit representatives + (Father d’Aigrigny and his secretary, Rodin) were amazed to hear + their nursling placed in possession of. They had the treasure in their + hands, in fact, when a woman of strangely sad beauty had mysteriously + entered the room where the will had been read, and laid a paper before the + notary. It was a codicil, duly drawn up and signed, deferring the carrying + out of the testament until the first day of June the same year. The + Jesuits fled from the house, in rage and intense disappointment. Father d’Aigrigny + was so stupor-stricken at the defeat, that he bade his secretary at once + write off to Rome that the Rennepont inheritance had escaped them, and + hopes to seize it again were utterly at an end. Upon this, Rodin had + revolted, and shown that he had authority to command where he had, so far, + most humbly obeyed. Many such spies hang about their superior’s + heels, with full powers to become the governor in turn, at a moment’s + notice. Thenceforward, he, Rodin, had taken the business into his own + hands. He had let Rose and Blanche Simon out of the convent into their + father’s arms. He had gone in person to release Adrienne de + Cardoville from the asylum. More, having led her to sigh for Prince + Djalma, he prompted the latter to burn for her. + </p> + <p> + He let not M. Hardy escape. A friend whom the latter treated as a brother, + had been shown up to him as a mere spy of the Jesuits; the woman whom he + adored, a wedded woman, alas! who had loved him in spite of her vows, had + been betrayed. Her mother had compelled her to hide her shame in America, + and, as she had often said—“Much as you are endeared to me, I + cannot waver between you and my mother!” so she had obeyed, without + one farewell word to him. Confess, Rodin was a more dextrous man than his + late master! In the pages that ensue farther proofs of his superiority in + baseness and satanic heartlessness will not be wanting. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0108" id="link2HCH0108"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER III. THE ATTACK. + </h2> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">O</span>n M. Hardy’s + learning from the confidential go-between of the lovers, that his mistress + had been taken away by her mother, he turned from Rodin and dashed away in + a post carriage. At the same moment, as loud as the rattle of the wheels, + there arose the shouts of a band of workmen and rioters, hired by the + Jesuit’s emissaries, coming to attack Hardy’s operatives. An + old grudge long existing between them and a rival manufacturer’s—Baron + Tripeaud—laborers, fanned the flames. When M. Hardy had left the + factory, Rodin, who was not prepared for this sudden departure, returned + slowly to his hackney-coach; but he stopped suddenly, and started with + pleasure and surprise, when he saw, at some distance, Marshall Simon and + his father advancing towards one of the wings of the Common + Dwelling-house; for an accidental circumstance had so far delayed the + interview of the father and son. + </p> + <p> + “Very well!” said Rodin. “Better and better! Now, only + let my man have found out and persuaded little Rose-Pompon!” + </p> + <p> + And Rodin hastened towards his hackney-coach. At this moment, the wind, + which continued to rise, brought to the ear of the Jesuit the war song of + the approaching Wolves. + </p> + <p> + The workman was in the garden. The marshal said to him, in a voice of such + deep emotion that the old man started; “Father, I am very unhappy.” + </p> + <p> + A painful expression, until then concealed, suddenly darkened the + countenance of the marshal. + </p> + <p> + “You unhappy?” cried father Simon, anxiously, as he pressed + nearer to the marshal. + </p> + <p> + “For some days, my daughters have appeared constrained in manner, + and lost in thought. During the first moments of our re-union, they were + mad with joy and happiness. Suddenly, all has changed; they are becoming + more and more sad. Yesterday, I detected tears in their eyes; then deeply + moved, I clasped them in my arms, and implored them to tell me the cause + of their sorrow. Without answering, they threw themselves on my neck, and + covered my face with their tears.” + </p> + <p> + “It is strange. To what do you attribute this alteration?” + </p> + <p> + “Sometimes, I think I have not sufficiently concealed from them the + grief occasioned me by the loss of their mother, and they are perhaps + miserable that they do not suffice for my happiness. And yet (inexplicable + as it is) they seem not only to understand, but to share my sorrow. + Yesterday, Blanche said to me: ‘How much happier still should we be, + if our mother were with us!—‘” + </p> + <p> + “Sharing your sorrow, they cannot reproach you with it. There must + be some other cause for their grief.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said the marshal, looking fixedly at his father; + “yes—but to penetrate this secret—it would be necessary + not to leave them.” + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean?” + </p> + <p> + “First learn, father, what are the duties which would keep me here; + then you shall know those which may take me away from you, from my + daughters, and from my other child.” + </p> + <p> + “What other child?” + </p> + <p> + “The son of my old friend, the Indian Prince.” + </p> + <p> + “Djalma? Is there anything the matter with him?” + </p> + <p> + “Father, he frightens me. I told you, father, of his mad and unhappy + passion for Mdlle. de Cardoville.” + </p> + <p> + “Does that frighten you, my son?” said the old man, looking at + the marshal with surprise. “Djalma is only eighteen, and, at that + age, one love drives away another.” + </p> + <p> + “You have no idea of the ravages which the passion has already made + in the ardent, indomitable boy; sometimes, fits of savage ferocity follow + the most painful dejection. Yesterday, I came suddenly upon him; his eyes + were bloodshot, his features contracted with rage; yielding to an impulse + of mad furry, he was piercing with his poinard a cushion of red cloth, + whilst he exclaimed, panting for breath, ‘Ha blood!—I will + have blood!’ ‘Unhappy boy!’ I said to him, ‘what + means this insane passion?’ ‘I’m killing the man!’ + replied he, in a hollow and savage voice: it is thus he designates his + supposed rival.” + </p> + <p> + “There is indeed something terrible,” said the old man, + “in such a passion, in such a heart.” + </p> + <p> + “At other times,” resumed the marshal, “it is against + Mdlle. de Cardoville that his rage bursts forth; and at others, against + himself. I have been obliged to remove his weapons, for a man who came + with him from Java, and who appears much attached to him, has informed me + that he suspected him of entertaining some thoughts of suicide.” + </p> + <p> + “Unfortunate boy!” + </p> + <p> + “Well, father,” said Marshal Simon, with profound bitterness; + “it is at the moment when my daughters and my adopted son require + all my solicitude, that I am perhaps on the eve of quitting them.” + </p> + <p> + “Of quitting them?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, to fulfil a still more sacred duty than that imposed by + friendship or family,” said the marshal, in so grave and solemn a + tone, that his father exclaimed, with deep emotion: “What can this + duty be?” + </p> + <p> + “Father,” said the marshal, after remaining a moment in + thoughtful silence, “who made me what I am? Who gave me the ducal + title, and the marshal’s baton?” + </p> + <p> + “Napoleon.” + </p> + <p> + “For you, the stern republican, I know that he lost all his value, + when from the first citizen of a Republic he became an emperor. + </p> + <p> + “I cursed his weakness,” said Father Simon, sadly; “the + demi-god sank into a man.” + </p> + <p> + “But for me, father—for me, the soldier, who have always + fought beside him, or under his eye—for me, whom he raised from the + lowest rank in the army to the highest—for me, whom he loaded with + benefits and marks of affection—for me, he was more than a hero, he + was a friend—and there was as much gratitude as admiration in my + idolatry for him. When he was exiled, I would fain have shared his exile; + they refused me that favor; then I conspired, then I drew my sword against + those who had robbed his son of the crown which France had given him.” + </p> + <p> + “And, in your position, you did well, Pierre; without sharing your + admiration, I understood your gratitude. The projects of exile, the + conspiracies—I approved them all—you know it.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, then, that disinherited child, in whose name I conspired + seventeen years ago, is now of an age to wield his father’s sword.” + </p> + <p> + “Napoleon II!” exclaimed the old man, looking at his son with + surprise and extreme anxiety; “the king of Rome!” + </p> + <p> + “King? no; he is no longer king. Napoleon? no; he is no longer + Napoleon. They have given him some Austrian name, because the other + frightened them. Everything frightens them. Do you know what they are + doing with the son of the Emperor?” resumed the marshal, with + painful excitement. “They are torturing him—killing him by + inches!” + </p> + <p> + “Who told you this?” + </p> + <p> + “Somebody who knows, whose words are but too true. Yes; the son of + the Emperor struggles with all his strength against a premature death. + With his eyes turned towards France, he waits—he waits—and no + one comes—no one—out of all the men that his father made as + great as they once were little, not one thinks of that crowned child, whom + they are stifling, till he dies.” + </p> + <p> + “But you think of him?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; but I had first to learn—oh! there is no doubt of it, + for I have not derived all my information from the same source—I had + first to learn the cruel fate of this youth, to whom I also swore + allegiance; for one day, as I have told you, the Emperor, proud and loving + father as he was, showed him to me in his cradle, and said: ‘My old + friend, you will be to the son what you have been to the father; who loves + us, loves our France.’” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I know it. Many times you have repeated those words to me, + and, like yourself, I have been moved by them.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, father! suppose, informed of the sufferings of the son of the + Emperor, I had seen—with the positive certainty that I was not + deceived—a letter from a person of high rank in the court of Vienna, + offering to a man that was still faithful to the Emperor’s memory, + the means of communicating with the king of Rome, and perhaps of saving + him from his tormentors—” + </p> + <p> + “What next?” said the workman, looking fixedly at his son. + “Suppose Napoleon II. once at liberty—” + </p> + <p> + “What next?” exclaimed the marshal. Then he added, in a + suppressed voice: “Do you think, father, that France is insensible + to the humiliations she endures? Do you think that the memory of the + Emperor is extinct? No, no; it is, above all, in the days of our country’s + degredation, that she whispers that sacred name. How would it be, then, + were that name to rise glorious on the frontier, reviving in his son? Do + you not think that the heart of all France would beat for him?” + </p> + <p> + “This implies a conspiracy—against the present government—with + Napoleon II. for a watchword,” said the workman. “This is very + serious.” + </p> + <p> + “I told you, father, that I was very unhappy; judge if it be not so,” + cried the marshal. “Not only I ask myself, if I ought to abandon my + children and you, to run the risk of so daring an enterprise, but I ask + myself if I am not bound to the present government, which, in + acknowledging my rank and title, if it bestowed no favor, at least did me + an act of justice. How shall I decide?—abandon all that I love, or + remain insensible to the tortures of Emperor—of that Emperor to the + son of the whom I owe everything—to whom I have sworn fidelity, both + to himself and child? Shall I lose this only opportunity, perhaps, of + saving him, or shall I conspire in his favor? Tell me, if I exaggerate + what I owe to the memory of the Emperor? Decide for me, father! During a + whole sleepless night, I strove to discover, in the midst of this chaos, + the line prescribed by honor; but I only wandered from indecision to + indecision. You alone, father—you alone, I repeat, can direct me.” + </p> + <p> + After remaining for some moments in deep thought, the old man was about to + answer, when some person, running across the little garden, opened the + door hastily, and entered the room in which were the marshal and his + father. It was Olivier, the young workman, who had been able to effect his + escape from the village in which the Wolves had assembled. + </p> + <p> + “M. Simon! M. Simon!” cried he, pale, and panting for breath. + “They are here—close at hand. They have come to attack the + factory.” + </p> + <p> + “Who?” cried the old man, rising hastily. + </p> + <p> + “The Wolves, quarrymen, and stone-cutters, joined on the road by a + crowd of people from the neighborhood, and vagabonds from town. Do you not + hear them? They are shouting, ‘Death to the Devourers!’” + </p> + <p> + The clamor was indeed approaching, and grew more and more distinct. + </p> + <p> + “It is the same noise that I heard just now,” said the + marshal, rising in his turn. + </p> + <p> + “There are more than two hundred of them, M. Simon,” said + Olivier; “they are armed with clubs and stones, and unfortunately + the greater part of our workmen are in Paris. We are not above forty here + in all; the women and children are already flying to their chambers, + screaming for terror. Do you not hear them?” + </p> + <p> + The ceiling shook beneath the tread of many hasty feet. + </p> + <p> + “Will this attack be a serious one?” said the marshal to his + father, who appeared more and more dejected. + </p> + <p> + “Very serious,” said the old man; “there is nothing more + fierce than these combats between different unions; and everything has + been done lately to excite the people of the neighborhood against the + factory.” + </p> + <p> + “If you are so inferior in number,” said the marshal, “you + must begin by barricading all the doors—and then—” + </p> + <p> + He was unable to conclude. A burst of ferocious cries shook the windows of + the room, and seemed so near and loud, that the marshal, his father, and + the young workman, rushed out into the little garden, which was bounded on + one side by a wall that separated it from the fields. Suddenly whilst the + shouts redoubled in violence, a shower of large stones, intended to break + the windows of the house, smashed some of the panes on the first story, + struck against the wall, and fell into the garden, all around the marshal + and his father. By a fatal chance, one of these large stones struck the + old man on the head. He staggered, bent forward, and fell bleeding into + the arms of Marshal Simon, just as arose from without, with increased + fury, the savage cries of, “Death to the Devourers!” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0109" id="link2HCH0109"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER IV. THE WOLVES AND THE DEVOURERS. + </h2> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">I</span>t was a frightful + thing to view the approach of the lawless crowd, whose first act of + hostility had been so fatal to Marshal Simon’s father. One wing of + the Common Dwelling-house, which joined the garden-wall on that side, was + next to the fields. It was there that the Wolves began their attack. The + precipitation of their march, the halt they had made at two public-houses + on the road, their ardent impatience for the approaching struggle, had + inflamed these men to a high pitch of savage excitement. Having discharged + their first shower of stones, most of the assailants stooped down to look + for more ammunition. Some of them, to do so with greater ease, held their + bludgeons between their teeth; others had placed them against the wall; + here and there, groups had formed tumultuously round the principal leaders + of the band; the most neatly dressed of these men wore frocks, with caps, + whilst others were almost in rags, for, as we have already said, many of + the hangers-on at the barriers, and people without any profession, had + joined the troop of the Wolves, whether welcome or not. Some hideous + women, with tattered garments, who always seem to follow in the track of + such people, accompanied them on this occasion, and, by their cries and + fury, inflamed still more the general excitement. One of them, tall, + robust, with purple complexion, blood shot eyes, and toothless jaws, had a + handkerchief over her head, from beneath which escaped her yellow, frowsy + hair. Over her ragged gown, she wore an old plaid shawl, crossed over her + bosom, and tied behind her back. This hag seemed possessed with a demon. + She had tucked up her half-torn sleeves; in one hand she brandished a + stick, in the other she grasped a huge stone; her companions called her + Ciboule (scullion). + </p> + <p> + This horrible hag exclaimed, in a hoarse voice: “I’ll bite the + women of the factory; I’ll make them bleed.” + </p> + <p> + The ferocious words were received with applause by her companions, and + with savage cries of “Ciboule forever!” which excited her to + frenzy. + </p> + <p> + Amongst the other leaders, was a small, dry pale man, with the face of a + ferret, and a black beard all round the chin; he wore a scarlet Greek cap, + and beneath his long blouse, perfectly new, appeared a pair of neat cloth + trousers, strapped over thin boots. This man was evidently of a different + condition of life from that of the other persons in the troop; it was he, + in particular, who ascribed the most irritating and insulting language to + the workmen of the factory, with regard to the inhabitants of the + neighborhood. He howled a great deal, but he carried neither stick nor + stone. A full-faced, fresh-colored man, with a formidable bass voice, like + a chorister’s, asked him: “Will you not have a shot at those + impious dogs, who might bring down the Cholera on the country, as the + curate told us?” + </p> + <p> + “I will have a better shot than you,” said the little man, + with a singular, sinister smile. + </p> + <p> + “And with what, I’d like to see?” + </p> + <p> + “Probably, with this,” said the little man, stooping to pick + up a large stone; but, as he bent, a well-filled though light bag, which + he appeared to carry under his blouse, fell to the ground. + </p> + <p> + “Look, you are losing both bag and baggage,” said the other; + “it does not seem very heavy.” + </p> + <p> + “They are samples of wool,” answered the man with the ferret’s + face, as he hastily picked up the bag, and replaced it under his blouse; + then he added: “Attention! the big blaster is going to speak.” + </p> + <p> + And, in fact, he who exercised the most complete ascendency over this + irritated crowd was the terrible quarryman. His gigantic form towered so + much above the multitude, that his great head, bound in its ragged + handkerchief, and his Herculean shoulders, covered with a fallow goat + skin, were always visible above the level of that dark and swarming crowd, + only relieved here and there by a few women’s caps, like so many + white points. Seeing to what a degree of exasperation the minds of the + crowd had reached, the small number of honest, but misguided workmen, who + had allowed themselves to be drawn into this dangerous enterprise, under + the pretext of a quarrel between rival unions, now fearing for the + consequences of the struggle, tried, but too late, to abandon the main + body. Pressed close, and as it were, girt in with the more hostile groups, + dreading to pass for cowards, or to expose themselves to the bad treatment + of the majority, they were forced to wait for a more favorable moment to + effect their escape. To the savage cheers, which had accompanied the first + discharge of stones, succeeded a deep silence commanded by the stentorian + voice of the quarryman. + </p> + <p> + “The Wolves have howled,” he exclaimed; “let us wait and + see how the Devourers will answer, and when they will begin the fight.” + </p> + <p> + “We must draw them out of their factory, and fight them on neutral + ground,” said the little man with the ferret’s face, who + appeared to be the thieves’ advocate; “otherwise there would + be trespass.” + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:65%;"> + <img src="images/20511m.jpg" alt="20511m” width=" /><br /> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/20511.jpg"><i>Original</i></a> + </h5> + <p> + “What do we care about trespass?” cried the horrible hag, + Ciboule; “in or out, I will tear the chits of the factory.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes,” cried other hideous creatures, as ragged as + Ciboule herself; “we must not leave all to the men.” + </p> + <p> + “We must have our fun, too!” + </p> + <p> + “The women of the factory say that all the women of the neighborhood + are drunken drabs,” cried the little man with the ferret’s + face. + </p> + <p> + “Good! we’ll pay them for it.” + </p> + <p> + “The women shall have their share.” + </p> + <p> + “That’s our business.” + </p> + <p> + “They like to sing in their Common House,” cried Ciboule; + “we will make them sing the wrong side of their mouths, in the key + of ‘Oh, dear me!’” + </p> + <p> + This pleasantry was received with shouts, hootings, and furious stamping + of feet, to which the stentorian voice of the quarryman put a term by + roaring: “Silence!” + </p> + <p> + “Silence! silence!” repeated the crowd. “Hear the + blaster!” + </p> + <p> + “If the Devourers are cowards enough not to dare to show themselves, + after a second volley of stones, there is a door down there which we can + break open, and we will soon hunt them from their holes.” + </p> + <p> + “It would be better to draw them out, so that none might remain in + the factory,” said the little old man with the ferret’s face, + who appeared to have some secret motive. + </p> + <p> + “A man fights where he can,” cried the quarryman, in a voice + of thunder; “all, right, if we can but once catch hold. We could + fight on a sloping roof, or on the top of a wall—couldn’t we, + my Wolves?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes!” cried the crowd, still more excited by those + savage words; “if they don’t come out, we will break in.” + </p> + <p> + “We will see their fine palace!” + </p> + <p> + “The pagans haven’t even a chapel,” said the bass voice. + “The curate has damned them all!” + </p> + <p> + “Why should they have a palace, and we nothing but dog-kennels?” + </p> + <p> + “Hardy’s workmen say that kennels are good enough for such as + you.” said the little man with the ferret’s face. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes! they said so.” + </p> + <p> + “We’ll break all their traps.” + </p> + <p> + “We’ll pull down their bazaar.” + </p> + <p> + “We’ll throw the house out of the windows.” + </p> + <p> + “When we have made the mealy-mouthed chits sing,” cried + Ciboule, “we will make them dance to the clatter of stones on their + heads.” + </p> + <p> + “Come, my Wolves! attention!” cried the quarryman, still in + the same stentorian voice; “one more volley, and if the Devourers do + not come out, down with the door!” + </p> + <p> + This proposition was received with cheers of savage ardor, and the + quarryman, whose voice rose above the tumult, cried with all the strength + of his herculean lungs: “Attention, my Wolves. Make ready! all + together. Now, are you ready?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes—all ready!” + </p> + <p> + “Then, present!—fire!” And, for the second time, a + shower of enormous stones poured upon that side of the Common + Dwelling-house which was turned towards the fields. A part of these + projectiles broke such of the windows as had been spared by the first + volley. To the sharp smashing and cracking of glass were joined the + ferocious cries uttered in chorus by this formidable mob, drunk with its + own excesses: “Death to the Devourers!” + </p> + <p> + Soon these outcries became perfectly frantic, when, through the broken + windows, the assailants perceived women running in terror, some with + children in their arms, and others raising their hands to heaven, calling + aloud for help; whilst a few, bolder than the rest, leaned out of the + windows, and tried to fasten the outside blinds. + </p> + <p> + “There come the ants out of their holes!” cried Ciboule, + stooping to pick up a stone. “We must have a fling at them for luck!” + The stone, hurled by the steady, masculine hand of the virago, went + straight to its mark, and struck an unfortunate woman who was trying to + close one of the shutters. + </p> + <p> + “Hit in the white!” cried the hideous creature. + </p> + <p> + “Well done, Ciboule!—you’ve rapped her coker-nut!” + cried a voice. + </p> + <p> + “Ciboule forever!” + </p> + <p> + “Come out, you Devourers, if you dare!” + </p> + <p> + “They have said a hundred times, that the neighbors were too + cowardly even to come and look at their house,” squealed the little + man with the ferret’s face. + </p> + <p> + “And now they show the white feather!” + </p> + <p> + “If they will not come out,” cried the quarryman, in voice of + thunder, “let us smoke them out!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes!” + </p> + <p> + “Let’s break open the door!” + </p> + <p> + “We are sure to find them!” + </p> + <p> + “Come on! come on!” + </p> + <p> + The crowd, with the quarryman at their head, and Ciboule not far from him, + brandishing a stick, advanced tumultously towards one of the great doors. + The ground shook beneath the rapid tread of the mob, which had now ceased + shouting; but the confused, and, as it were, subterraneous noise, sounded + even more ominous than those savage outcries. The Wolves soon arrived + opposite the massive oaken door. At the moment the blaster raised a + sledgehammer, the door opened suddenly. Some of the most determined of the + assailants were about to rush in at this entrance; but the quarryman + stepped back, extending his arm as if to moderate their ardor and impose + silence. Then his followers gathered round him. + </p> + <p> + The half-open door discovered a party of workmen, unfortunately by no + means numerous, but with countenances full of resolution. They had armed + themselves hastily with forks, iron bars, and clubs. Agricola, who was + their leader, held in his hand a heavy sledge-hammer. The young workman + was very pale; but the fire of his eye, his menacing look, and the + intrepid assurance of his bearing, showed that his father’s blood + boiled in his veins, and that in such a struggle he might become + fear-inspiring. Yet he succeeded in restraining himself, and challenged + the quarryman, in a firm voice: “What do you want?” + </p> + <p> + “A fight!” thundered the blaster. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes! a fight!” repeated the crowd. + </p> + <p> + “Silence, my Wolves!” cried the quarryman, as he turned round, + and stretched forth his large hand towards the multitude. Then addressing + Agricola, he said: “The Wolves have come to ask for a fight.” + </p> + <p> + “With whom?” + </p> + <p> + “With the Devourers.” + </p> + <p> + “There are no Devourers here,” replied Agricola; “we are + only peaceable workmen. So begone.” + </p> + <p> + “Well! here are the Wolves, that will eat your quiet workmen.” + </p> + <p> + “The Wolves will eat no one here,” said Agricola, looking full + at the quarryman, who approached him with a threatening air; “they + can only frighten little children.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! you think so,” said the quarryman, with a savage sneer. + Then raising his weapon, he shook it in Agricola’s face, exclaiming: + “Is that any laughing matter? + </p> + <p> + “Is that?” answered Agricola, with a rapid movement, parrying + the stone sledge with his own hammer. + </p> + <p> + “Iron against iron—hammer against hammer—that suits me,” + said the quarryman. + </p> + <p> + “It does not matter what suits you,” answered Agricola, hardly + able to restrain himself. “You have broken our windows, frightened + our women, and wounded—perhaps killed—the oldest workman in + the factory, who at this moment lies bleeding in the arms of his son.” + Here Agricola’s voice trembled in spite of himself. “It is, I + think, enough.” + </p> + <p> + “No; the Wolves are hungry for more,” answered the blaster; + “you must come out (cowards that you are!), and fight us on the + plain.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes! yes! battle!—let them come out!” cried the crowd, + howling, hissing, waving their sticks and pushing further into the small + space which separated them from the door. + </p> + <p> + “We will have no battle,” answered Agricola: “we will + not leave our home; but if you have the misfortune to pass this,” + said Agricola, throwing his cap upon the threshold, and setting his foot + on it with an intrepid air, “if you pass this, you attack us in our + own house, and you will be answerable for all that may happen.” + </p> + <p> + “There or elsewhere we will have the fight! the Wolves must eat the + Devourers. Now for the attack!” cried the fierce quarryman, raising + his hammer to strike Agricola. + </p> + <p> + But the latter, throwing himself on one side by a sudden leap, avoided the + blow, and struck with his hammer full at the chest of the quarryman, who + staggered for a moment, but instantly recovering his legs, rushed + furiously on Agricola, crying: “Follow me, Wolves!” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0110" id="link2HCH0110"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER V. THE RETURN. + </h2> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">A</span>s soon as the + combat had begun between Agricola and the blaster, the general fight + became terrible, ardent, implacable. A flood of assailants, following the + quarryman’s steps, rushed into the house with irresistible fury; + others, unable to force their way through this dreadful crowd, where the + more impetuous squeezed, stifled, and crushed these who were less so, went + round in another direction, broke through some lattice work, and thus + placed the people of the factory, as it were, between two fires. Some + resisted courageously; others, seeing Ciboule, followed by some of her + horrible companions, and by several of the most ill-looking ruffians, + hastily enter that part of the Common-Dwelling house in which the women + had taken refuge, hurried in pursuit of this band; but some of the hag’s + companions, having faced about, and vigorously defended the entrance of + the staircase against the workmen, Ciboule, with three or four like + herself, and about the same number of no less ignoble men, rushed through + the rooms, with the intention of robbing or destroying all that came in + their way. A door, which at first resisted their efforts, was soon broken + through; Ciboule rushed into the apartment with a stick in her hand, her + hair dishevelled, furious, and, as it were, maddened with the noise and + tumult. A beautiful young girl (it was Angela), who appeared anxious to + defend the entrance to a second chamber, threw herself on her knees, pale + and supplicating, and raising her clasped hands, exclaimed: “Do not + hurt my mother!” + </p> + <p> + “I’ll serve you out first, and your mother afterwards,” + replied the horrible woman, throwing herself on the poor girl, and + endeavoring to tear her face with her nails, whilst the rest of the + ruffianly band broke the glass and the clock with their sticks, and + possessed themselves of some articles of wearing apparel. + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:65%;"> + <img src="images/20517m.jpg" alt="20517m” width=" /><br /> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/20517.jpg"><i>Original</i></a> + </h5> + <p> + Angela, struggling with Ciboule, uttered loud cries of distress, and still + attempted to guard the room in which her mother had taken refuge; whilst + the latter, leaning from the window, called Agricola to their assistance. + The smith was now engaged with the huge blaster. In a close struggle, + their hammers had become useless, and with bloodshot eyes and clinched + teeth, chest to chest, and limbs twined together like two serpents, they + made the most violent efforts to overthrow each other. Agricola, bent + forward, held under his right arm the left leg of the quarryman, which he + had seized in parrying a violent kick; but such was the Herculean strength + of the leader of the Wolves, that he remained firm as a tower, though + resting only on one leg. With the hand that was still free (for the other + was gripped by Agricola as in a vise), he endeavored with violent blows to + break the jaws of the smith, who, leaning his head forward, pressed his + forehead hard against the breast of his adversary. + </p> + <p> + “The Wolf will break the Devourer’s teeth, and he shall devour + no more,” said the quarryman. + </p> + <p> + “You are no true Wolf,” answered the smith, redoubling his + efforts; “the true Wolves are honest fellows, and do not come ten + against one.” + </p> + <p> + “True or false, I will break your teeth.” + </p> + <p> + “And I your paw,” said the smith, giving so violent a wrench + to the leg of the quarryman, that the latter uttered a cry of acute pain, + and, with the rage of a wild beast, butting suddenly forward with his + head, succeeded in biting Agricola in the side of the neck. + </p> + <p> + The pang of this bite forced Agricola to make a movement, which enabled + the quarryman to disengage his leg. Then, with a superhuman effort, he + threw himself with his whole weight on Agricola, and brought him to the + ground, falling himself upon him. + </p> + <p> + At this juncture, Angela’s mother, leaning from one of the windows + of the Common Dwelling-house, exclaimed in a heart-rending voice: “Help, + Agricola!—they are killing my child!” + </p> + <p> + “Let me go—and on, my honor—I will fight you tomorrow, + or when you will,” said Agricola, panting for breath. + </p> + <p> + “No warmed-up food for me; I eat all hot,” answered the + quarryman, seizing the smith by the throat, whilst he tried to place one of + his knees upon his chest. + </p> + <p> + “Help!—they are killing my child!” cried Angela’s + mother, in a voice of despair. + </p> + <p> + “Mercy! I ask mercy! Let me go!”’ said Agricola, making + the most violent efforts to escape. + </p> + <p> + “I am too hungry,” answered the quarryman. + </p> + <p> + Exasperated by the terror which Angela’s danger occasioned him, + Agricola redoubled his efforts, when the quarryman suddenly felt his thigh + seized by the sharp teeth of a dog, and at the same instant received from + a vigorous hand three or four heavy blows with a stick upon his head. He + relaxed his grasp, and fell stunned upon his hand and knee, whilst he + mechanically raised his other arm to parry the blows, which ceased as soon + as Agricola was delivered. + </p> + <p> + “Father, you have saved me!” cried the smith, springing up. + “If only I am in time to rescue Angela!” + </p> + <p> + “Run!—never mind me!” answered Dagobert; and Agricola + rushed into the house. + </p> + <p> + Dogabert, accompanied by Spoil-sport, had come, as we have already said, + to bring Marshal Simon’s daughters to their grandfather. Arriving in + the midst of the tumult, the soldier had collected a few workmen to defend + the entrance of the chamber, to which the marshal’s father had been + carried in a dying state. It was from this post that the soldier had seen + Agricola’s danger. Soon after, the rush of the conflict separated + Dagobert from the quarryman, who remained for some moments insensible. + Arrived in two bounds at the Common Dwelling-house, Agricola succeeded in + forcing his way through the men who defended the staircase, and rushed + into the corridor that led to Angela’s chamber. At the moment he + reached it, the unfortunate girl was mechanically guarding her face with + both hands against Ciboule, who, furious as the hyena over its prey, was + trying to scratch and disfigure her. + </p> + <p> + To spring upon the horrible hag, seize her by her yellow hair with + irresistible hand, drag her backwards, and then with one cuff, stretch her + full length upon the ground, was for Agricola an achievement as rapid as + thought. Furious with rage, Ciboule rose again almost instantly; but at + this moment, several workmen, who had followed close upon Agricola, were + able to attack with advantage, and whilst the smith lifted the fainting + form of Angela, and carried her into the next room, Ciboule and her band + were driven from that part of the house. + </p> + <p> + After the first fire of the assault, the small number of real Wolves, who, + as Agricola said, were in the main honest fellows, but had the weakness to + let themselves be drawn into this enterprise, under the pretext of a + quarrel between rival unions, seeing the excesses committed by the rabble + who accompanied them, turned suddenly round, and ranged themselves on the + side of the Devourers. + </p> + <p> + “There are no longer here either Wolves or Devourers,” said + one of the most determined Wolves to Olivier, with whom he had been + fighting roughly and fairly; “there are none here but honest + workmen, who must unite to drive out a set of scoundrels, that have come + only to break and pillage.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” added another; “it was against our will that they + began by breaking your windows.” + </p> + <p> + “The big blaster did it all,” said another; “the true + Wolves wash their hands of him. We shall soon settle his account.” + </p> + <p> + “We may fight every day—but we ought to esteem each + other.”(35) + </p> + <p> + This defection of a portion of the assailants (unfortunately but a small + portion) gave new spirit to the workmen of the factory, and all together, + Wolves and Devourers, though very inferior in number, opposed themselves + to the band of vagabonds, who were proceeding to new excesses. Some of + these wretches, still further excited by the little man with the ferret’s + face, a secret emissary of Baron Tripeaud, now rushed in a mass towards + the workshops of M. Hardy. Then began a lamentable devastation. These + people, seized with the mania of destruction, broke without remorse + machines of the greatest value, and most delicate construction; half + manufactured articles were pitilessly destroyed; a savage emulation seemed + to inspire these barbarians, and those workshops, so lately the model of + order and well-regulated economy, were soon nothing but a wreck; the + courts were strewed with fragments of all kinds of wares, which were + thrown from the windows with ferocious outcries, or savage bursts of + laughter. Then, still thanks to the incitements of the little man with the + ferret’s face, the books of M. Hardy, archives of commercial + industry, so indispensable to the trader, were scattered to the wind, + torn, trampled under foot, in a sort of infernal dance, composed of all + that was most impure in this assembly of low, filthy, and ragged men and + women, who held each other by the hand, and whirled round and round with + horrible clamor. Strange and painful contrasts! At the height of the + stunning noise of these horrid deeds of tumult and devastation, a scene of + imposing and mournful calm was taking place in the chamber of Marshal + Simon’s father, the door of which was guarded by a few devoted men. + The old workman was stretched on his bed, with a bandage across his blood + stained white hair. His countenance was livid, his breathing oppressed, + his look fixed and glazed. + </p> + <p> + Marshal Simon, standing at the head of the bed, bending over his father, + watched in despairing anguish the least sign of consciousness on the part + of the dying man, near whom was a physician, with his finger on the + failing pulse. Rose and Blanche, brought hither by Dagobert, were kneeling + beside the bed, their hands clasped, and their eyes bathed in tears; a + little further, half hidden in the shadows of the room, for the hours had + passed quickly, and the night was at hand, stood Dagobert himself, with + his arms crossed upon his breast, and his features painfully contracted. A + profound and solemn silence reigned in this chamber, only interrupted by + the broken sobs of Rose and Blanche, or by Father Simon’s hard + breathing. The eyes of the marshal were dry, gloomy, and full of fire. He + only withdrew them from his father’s face, to interrogate the + physician by a look. There are strange coincidences in life. That + physician was Dr. Baleinier. The asylum of the doctor being close to the + barrier that was nearest to the factory, and his fame being widely spread + in the neighborhood, they had run to fetch him on the first call for + medical assistance. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly, Dr. Baleinier made a movement; the marshal, who had not taken + his eyes off him, exclaimed: “Is there any hope?” + </p> + <p> + “At least, my lord duke, the pulse revives a little.” + </p> + <p> + “He is saved!” said the marshal. + </p> + <p> + “Do not cherish false hopes, my lord duke,” answered the + doctor, gravely: “the pulse revives, owing to the powerful + applications to the feet, but I know not what will be the issue of the + crisis.” + </p> + <p> + “Father! father! do you hear me?” cried the marshal, seeing + the old man slightly move his head, and feebly raise his eyelids. He soon + opened his eyes, and this time their intelligence had returned. + </p> + <p> + “Father! you live—you know me!” cried the marshal, giddy + with joy and hope. + </p> + <p> + “Pierre! are you there?” said the old man, in a weak voice. + “Your hand—give—it—” and he made a feeble + movement. + </p> + <p> + “Here, father!” cried the marshal, as he pressed the hands of + the old man in his own. + </p> + <p> + Then, yielding to an impulse of delight, he bent over his father, covered + his hands, face, and hair with kisses, and repeated: “He lives! kind + heaven, he lives! he is saved!” + </p> + <p> + At this instant, the noise of the struggle which had recommenced between + the rabble, the Wolves, and the Devourers, reached the ears of the dying + man. + </p> + <p> + “That noise! that noise!” said he: “they are fighting.” + </p> + <p> + “It is growing less, I think,” said the marshal, in order not + to agitate his father. + </p> + <p> + “Pierre,” said the old man, in a weak and broken voice, + “I have not long to live.” + </p> + <p> + “Father—” + </p> + <p> + “Let me speak, child; if I can but tell you all.” + </p> + <p> + “Sir,” said Baleinier piously to the old workman, “heaven + may perhaps work a miracle in your favor; show yourself grateful, and + allow a priest—” + </p> + <p> + “A priest! Thank you, sir—I have my son,” said the old + man; “in his arms, I will render up my soul—which has always + been true and honest.” + </p> + <p> + “You die?” exclaimed the marshal; “no! no!” + </p> + <p> + “Pierre,” said the old man, in a voice which, firm at first, + gradually grew fainter, “just now—you ask my advice in a very + serious matter. I think, that the wish to tell you of your duty—has + recalled me—for a moment—to life—for I should die + miserable—if I thought you in a road unworthy of yourself and me. + Listen to me, my son—my noble son—at this last hour, a father + cannot deceive himself. You have a great duty to perform—-under pain—of + not acting like a man of honor—under pain of neglecting my last + will. You ought, without hesitation—” + </p> + <p> + Here the voice failed the old man. When he had pronounced the last + sentence, he became quite unintelligible. The only words that Marshal + Simon could distinguish, were these: “Napoleon II.—oath—dishonor—my + son!” + </p> + <p> + Then the old workman again moved his lips mechanically—and all was + over. At the moment he expired, the night was quite come, and terrible + shouts were heard from without, of “Fire! Fire!” The + conflagration had broken out in one of the workshops, filled with + inflammable stuff, into which had glided the little man with the ferret’s + face. At the same time, the roll of drums was heard in the distance, + announcing the arrival of a detachment of troops from town. + </p> + <p> + During an hour, in spite of every effort, the fire had been spreading + through the factory. The night is clear, cold, starlight; the wind blows + keenly from the north, with a moaning sound. A man, walking across the + fields, where the rising ground conceals the fire from him, advances with + slow and unsteady steps. It is M. Hardy. He had chosen to return home on + foot, across the country, hoping that a walk would calm the fever in his + blood—an icy fever, more like the chill of death. He had not been + deceived. His adored mistress—the noble woman, with whom he might + have found refuge from the consequences of the fearful deception which had + just been revealed to him—had quitted France. He could have no doubt + of it. Margaret was gone to America. Her mother had exacted from her, in + expiation of her fault, that she should not even write to him one word of + farewell—to him, for whom she had sacrificed her duty as a wife. + Margaret had obeyed. + </p> + <p> + Besides, she had often said to him: “Between my mother and you, I + should not hesitate.” + </p> + <p> + She had not hesitated. There was therefore no hope, not the slightest; + even if an ocean had not separated him from Margaret, he knew enough of + her blind submission to her mother, to be certain that all relations + between them were broken off forever. It is well. He will no longer reckon + upon this heart—his last refuge. The two roots of his life have been + torn up and broken, with the same blow, the same day, almost at the same + moment. What then remains for thee, poor sensitive plant, as thy tender + mother used to call thee? What remains to console thee for the loss of + this last love—this last friendship, so infamously crushed? Oh! + there remains for thee that one corner of the earth, created after the + image of thy mind that little colony, so peaceful and flourishing, where, + thanks to thee, labor brings with it joy and recompense. These worthy + artisans, whom thou hast made happy, good, and grateful, will not fail + thee. That also is a great and holy affection; let it be thy shelter in + the midst of this frightful wreck of all thy most sacred convictions! The + calm of that cheerful and pleasant retreat, the sight of the unequalled + happiness of thy dependents, will soothe thy poor, suffering soul, which + now seems to live only for suffering. Come! you will soon reach the top of + the hill, from which you can see afar, in the plain below, that paradise + of workmen, of which you are the presiding divinity. + </p> + <p> + M. Hardy had reached the summit of the hill. At that moment the + conflagration, repressed for a short time, burst forth with redoubled fury + from the Common Dwelling-house, which it had now reached. A bright streak, + at first white, then red, then copper-colored, illuminated the distant + horizon. M. Hardy looked at it with a sort of incredulous, almost idiotic + stupor. Suddenly, an immense column of flame shot up in the thick of a + cloud of smoke, accompanied by a shower of sparks, and streamed towards + the sky, casting a bright reflection over all the country, even to M. + Hardy’s feet. The violence of the north wind, driving the flames in + waves before it, soon brought to the ears of M. Hardy the hurried clanging + of the alarm-bell of the burning factory. + </p> + <p> + (35) We wish it to be understood, that the necessities of our story alone + have made the Wolves the assailants. While endeavoring to paint the evils + arising the abuse of the spirit of association, we do not wish to ascribe + a character of savage hostility to one sect rather than to the other to + the Wolves more than to the Devourers. The Wolves, a club of united + stone-cutters, are generally industrious, intelligent workmen, whose + situation is the more worthy of interest, as not only their labors, + conducted with mathematical precision, are of the rudest and most + wearisome kind, but they are likewise out of work during three or four + months of the year, their profession being, unfortunately, one of those + which winter condemns to a forced cessation. A number of Wolves, in order + to perfect themselves in their trade, attend every evening a course of + linear geometry, applied to the cutting of stone, analogous to that given + by M. Agricole Perdignier, for the benefit of carpenters. Several working + stone-cutters sent an architectural model in plaster to the last + exhibition. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0111" id="link2HCH0111"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VI. THE GO-BETWEEN. + </h2> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">A</span> few days have + elapsed since the conflagration of M. Hardy’s factory. The following + scene takes place in the Rue Clovis, in the house where Rodin had lodged, + and which was still inhabited by Rose-Pompon, who, without the least + scruple, availed herself of the household arrangements of her friend + Philemon. It was about noon, and Rose-Pompon, alone in the chamber of the + student, who was still absent, was breakfasting very gayly by the + fireside; but how singular a breakfast! what a queer fire! how strange an + apartment! + </p> + <p> + Imagine a large room, lighted by two windows without curtains—for as + they looked on empty space, the lodger had fear of being overlooked. One + side of this apartment served as a wardrobe, for there was suspended + Rose-Pompon’s flashy costume of debardeur, not far from the boat-man’s + jacket of Philemon, with his large trousers of coarse, gray stuff, covered + with pitch (shiver my timbers!), just as if this intrepid mariner had + bunked in the forecastle of a frigate, during a voyage round the globe. A + gown of Rose Pompon’s hung gracefully over a pair of pantaloons, the + legs of which seemed to come from beneath the petticoat. On the lowest of + several book-shelves, very dusty and neglected, by the side of three old + boots (wherefore three boots?) and a number of empty bottles, stood a + skull, a scientific and friendly souvenir, left to Philemon by one of his + comrades, a medical student. With a species of pleasantry, very much to + the taste of the student-world, a clay pipe with a very black bowl was + placed between the magnificently white teeth of this skull; moreover, its + shining top was half hidden beneath an old hat, set knowingly on one side, + and adorned with faded flowers and ribbons. When Philemon was drunk, he + used to contemplate this bony emblem of mortality, and break out into the + most poetical monologues, with regard to this philosophical contrast + between death and the mad pleasures of life. Two or three plaster casts, + with their noses and chins more or less injured, were fastened to the + wall, and bore witness to the temporary curiosity which Philemon had felt + with regard to phrenological science, from the patient and serious study + of which he had drawn the following logical conclusion:—That, having + to an alarming extent the bump of getting into debt, he ought to resign + himself to the fatality of this organization, and accept the inconvenience + of creditors as a vital necessity. On the chimney-piece, stood uninjured, + in all its majesty, the magnificent rowing-club drinking-glass, a china + teapot without a spout, and an inkstand of black wood, the glass mouth of + which was covered by a coat of greenish and mossy mould. From time to + time, the silence of this retreat was interrupted by the cooing of + pigeons, which Rose-Pompon had established with cordial hospitality in the + little study. Chilly as a quail, Rose-Pompon crept close to the fire, and + at the same time seemed to enjoy the warmth of a bright ray of sunshine, + which enveloped her in its golden light. This droll little creature was + dressed in the oddest costume, which, however, displayed to advantage the + freshness of her piquant and pretty countenance, crowned with its fine, + fair hair, always neatly combed and arranged the first thing in the + morning. By way of dressing-gown, Rose-Pompon had ingeniously drawn over + her linen, the ample scarlet flannel shirt which belonged to Philemon’s + official garb in the rowing-club; the collar, open and turned down, + displayed the whiteness of the young girl’s under garment, as also + of her neck and shoulders, on whose firm and polished surface the scarlet + shirt seemed to cast a rosy light. The grisette’s fresh and dimpled + arms half protruded from the large, turned-up sleeves; and her charming + legs were also half visible, crossed one over the other, and clothed in + neat white stockings, and boots. A black silk cravat formed the girdle + which fastened the shirt round the wasp-like waist of Rose-Pompon, just + above those hips, worthy of the enthusiasm of a modern Phidias, and which + gave to this style of dress a grace very original. + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:65%;"> + <img src="images/20527m.jpg" alt="20527m” width=" /><br /> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/20527.jpg"><i>Original</i></a> + </h5> + <p> + We have said, that the breakfast of Rose-Pompon was singular. You shall + judge. On a little table placed before her, was a wash-hand-basin, into + which she had recently plunged her fresh face, bathing it in pure water. + From the bottom of this basin, now transformed into a salad-bowl, Rose + Pompon took with the tips of her fingers large green leaves, dripping with + vinegar, and crunched them between her tiny white teeth, whose enamel was + too hard to allow them to be set on edge. Her drink was a glass of water + and syrup of gooseberries, which she stirred with a wooden mustard-spoon. + Finally, as an extra dish, she had a dozen olives in one of those blue + glass trinket-dishes sold for twenty-five sous. Her dessert was composed + of nuts, which she prepared to roast on a red-hot shovel. That + Rose-Pompon, with such an unaccountable savage choice of food, should + retain a freshness of complexion worthy of her name, is one of those + miracles, which reveal the mighty power of youth and health. When she had + eaten her salad, Rose-Pompon was about to begin upon her olives, when a + low knock was heard at the door, which was modestly bolted on the inside. + </p> + <p> + “Who is there?” said Rose-Pompon. + </p> + <p> + “A friend—the oldest of the old,” replied a sonorous, + jovial voice. “Why do you lock yourself in?” + </p> + <p> + “What! is it you, Ninny Moulin?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, my beloved pupil. Open quickly. Time presses.” + </p> + <p> + “Open to you? Oh, I dare say!—that would be pretty, the figure + I am!” + </p> + <p> + “I believe you! what does it matter what figure you are? It would be + very pretty, thou rosiest of all the roses with which Cupid ever adorned + his quiver!” + </p> + <p> + “Go and preach fasting and morality in your journal, fat apostle!” + said Rose—Pompon, as she restored the scarlet shirt to its place, + with Philemon’s other garments. + </p> + <p> + “I say! are we to talk much longer through the door, for the greater + edification of our neighbors?” cried Ninny Moulin. “I have + something of importance to tell you—something that will astonish you—” + </p> + <p> + “Give me time to put on my gown, great plague that you are!” + </p> + <p> + “If it is because of my modesty, do not think of it. I am not over + nice. I should like you very well as you are!” + </p> + <p> + “Only to think that such a monster is the favorite of all the + churchgoers!” said Rose-Pompon, opening the door as she finished + fastening her dress. + </p> + <p> + “So! you have at last returned to the dovecot, you stray girl!” + said Ninny Moulin, folding his arms, and looking at Rose-Pompon with comic + seriousness. “And where may you have been, I pray? For three days + the naughty little bird has left its nest.” + </p> + <p> + “True; I only returned home last night. You must have called during + my absence?” + </p> + <p> + “I came, every day, and even twice a day, young lady, for I have + very serious matters to communicate.” + </p> + <p> + “Very serious matters? Then we shall have a good laugh at them.” + </p> + <p> + “Not at all—they are really serious,” said Ninny Moulin, + seating himself. “But, first of all, what did you do during the + three days that you left your conjugal and Philemonic home? I must know + all about it, before I tell you more.” + </p> + <p> + “Will you have some olives?” said Rose-Pompon, as she nibbled + one of them herself. + </p> + <p> + “Is that your answer?—I understand!—Unfortunate + Philemon!” + </p> + <p> + “There is no unfortunate Philemon in the case, slanderer. Clara had + a death in her house, and, for the first few days after the funeral she + was afraid to sleep alone.” + </p> + <p> + “I thought Clara sufficiently provided against such fears.” + </p> + <p> + “There you are deceived, you great viper! I was obliged to go and + keep the poor girl company.” + </p> + <p> + At this assertion, the religious pamphleteer hummed a tune, with an + incredulous and mocking air. + </p> + <p> + “You think I have played Philemon tricks?” cried Rose-Pompon, + cracking a nut with the indignation of injured innocence. + </p> + <p> + “I do not say tricks; but one little rose-colored trick.” + </p> + <p> + “I tell you, that it was not for my pleasure I went out. On the + contrary—for, during my absence, poor Cephyse disappeared.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Mother Arsene told me that the Bacchanal-Queen was gone on a + journey. But when I talk of Philemon, you talk of Cephyse; we don’t + progress.” + </p> + <p> + “May I be eaten by the black panther that they are showing at the + Porte Saint-Martin if I do not tell you the truth. And, talking of that, + you must get tickets to take me to see those animals, my little Ninny + Moulin! They tell me there never were such darling wild beasts.” + </p> + <p> + “Now really, are you mad?” + </p> + <p> + “Why so?” + </p> + <p> + “That I should guide your youth, like a venerable patriarch, through + the dangers of the Storm-blown Tulip, all well and good—I ran no + risk of meeting my pastors and masters; but were I to take you to a Lent + Spectacle (since there are only beasts to be seen), I might just run + against my sacristans—and how pretty I should look with you on my + arm!” + </p> + <p> + “You can put on a false nose, and straps to your trousers, my big + Ninny; they will never know you.” + </p> + <p> + “We must not think of false noses, but of what I have to tell you, + since you assure me that you have no intrigue in hand.” + </p> + <p> + “I swear it!” said Rose-Pompon, solemnly, extending her left + hand horizontally, whilst with her right she put a nut into her mouth. + Then she added, with surprise, as she looked at the outside coat of Ninny + Moulin, “Goodness gracious! what full pockets you have got! What is + there in them?” + </p> + <p> + “Something that concerns you, Rose-Pompon,” said Dumoulin, + gravely. + </p> + <p> + “Me?” + </p> + <p> + “Rose-Pompon!” said Ninny Moulin, suddenly, with a majestic + air; “will you have a carriage? Will you inhabit a charming + apartment, instead of living in this dreadful hole? Will you be dressed + like a duchess?” + </p> + <p> + “Now for some more nonsense! Come, will you eat the olives? If not, + I shall eat them all up. There is only one left.” + </p> + <p> + Without answering this gastronomic offer, Ninny Moulin felt in one of his + pockets, and drew from it a case containing a very pretty bracelet, which + he held up sparkling before the eyes of the young girl. + </p> + <p> + “Oh! what a sumptuous bracelet!” cried she, clapping her + hands. “A green-eyed serpent biting his tail—the emblem of my + love for Philemon.” + </p> + <p> + “Do not talk of Philemon; it annoys me,” said Ninny Moulin, as + he clasped the bracelet round the wrist of Rose-Pompon, who allowed him to + do it, laughing all the while like mad, and saying to him, “So you’ve + been employed to make a purchase, big apostle, and wish to see the effect + of it. Well! it is charming!” + </p> + <p> + “Rose-Pompon,” resumed Ninny Moulin, “would you like to + have a servant, a box at the Opera, and a thousand francs a month for your + pin-money?” + </p> + <p> + “Always the same nonsense. Get along!” said the young girl, as + she held up the bracelet to the light, still continuing to eat her nuts. + “Why always the same farce, and no change of bills?” + </p> + <p> + Ninny Moulin again plunged his hand into his pocket, and this time drew + forth an elegant chain, which he hung round Rose-Pompon’s neck. + </p> + <p> + “Oh! what a beautiful chain!” cried the young girl, as she + looked by turns at the sparkling ornament and the religious writer. + “If you chose that also, you have a very good taste. But am I not a + good natured girl to be your dummy, just to show off your jewels?” + </p> + <p> + “Rose-Pompon,” returned Ninny Moulin, with a still more + majestic air, “these trifles are nothing to what you may obtain, if + you will but follow the advice of your old friend.” + </p> + <p> + Rose began to look at Dumoulin with surprise, and said to him, “What + does all this mean, Ninny Moulin? Explain yourself; what advice have you + to give?” + </p> + <p> + Dumoulin did not answer, but replunging his hand into his inexhaustible + pocket, he fished up a parcel, which he carefully unfolded, and in which + was a magnificent mantilla of black lace. Rose-Pompon started up, full of + new admiration, and Dumoulin threw the rich mantilla over the young girl’s + shoulders. + </p> + <p> + “It is superb! I have never seen anything like it! What patterns! + what work!” said Rose-Pompon, as she examined all with simple and + perfectly disinterested curiosity. Then she added, “Your pocket is + like a shop; where did you get all these pretty things?” Then, + bursting into a fit of laughter, which brought the blood to her cheeks, + she exclaimed, “Oh, I have it! These are the wedding-presents for + Madame de la Sainte-Colombe. I congratulate you; they are very choice.” + </p> + <p> + “And where do you suppose I should find money to buy these wonders?” + said Ninny Moulin. “I repeat to you, all this is yours if you will + but listen to me!” + </p> + <p> + “How is this?” said Rose-Pompon, with the utmost amazement; + “is what you tell me in downright earnest?” + </p> + <p> + “In downright earnest.” + </p> + <p> + “This offer to make me a great lady?” + </p> + <p> + “The jewels might convince you of the reality of my offers.” + </p> + <p> + “And you propose all this to me for some one else, my poor Ninny + Moulin?” + </p> + <p> + “One moment,” said the religious writer, with a comical air of + modesty, “you must know me well enough, my beloved pupil, to feel + certain that I should be incapable of inducing you to commit an improper + action. I respect myself too much for that—leaving out the + consideration that it would be unfair to Philemon, who confided to me the + guardianship of your virtue.” + </p> + <p> + “Then, Ninny Moulin,” said Rose-Pompon, more and more + astonished, “on my word of honor, I can make nothing of it. + </p> + <p> + “Yet, ‘tis all very simple, and I—” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! I’ve found it,” cried Rose-Pompon, interrupting + Ninny Moulin; “it is some gentleman who offers me his hand, his + heart, and all the rest of it. Could you not tell me that directly?” + </p> + <p> + “A marriage? oh, laws, yes!” said Dumoulin, shrugging his + shoulders. + </p> + <p> + “What! is it not a marriage?” said Rose-Pompon, again much + surprised. + </p> + <p> + “No.” + </p> + <p> + “And the offers you make me are honest ones, my big apostle?” + </p> + <p> + “They could not be more so.” Here Dumoulin spoke the truth. + </p> + <p> + “I shall not have to be unfaithful to Philemon?” + </p> + <p> + “No.” + </p> + <p> + “Or faithful to any one else?” + </p> + <p> + “No.” + </p> + <p> + Rose-Pompon looked confounded. Then she rattled on: “Come, do not + let us have any joking! I am not foolish enough to imagine that I am to + live just like a duchess, just for nothing. What, therefore, must I give + in return?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing at all.” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing?” + </p> + <p> + “Not even that,” said Ninny Moulin, biting his nail-tip. + </p> + <p> + “But what am I to do, then?” + </p> + <p> + “Dress yourself as handsomely as possible, take your ease, amuse + yourself, ride about in a carriage. You see, it is not very fatiguing—and + you will, moreover, help to do a good action.” + </p> + <p> + “What! by living like a duchess?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes! so make up your mind. Do not ask me for any more details, for + I cannot give them to you. For the rest, you will not be detained against + your will. Just try the life I propose to you. If it suits you, go on with + it; if not, return to your Philemonic household.” + </p> + <p> + “In fact—” + </p> + <p> + “Only try it. What can you risk?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing; but I can hardly believe that all you say is true. And + then,” added she, with hesitation, “I do not know if I ought—” + </p> + <p> + Ninny Moulin went to the window, opened it, and said to Rose-Pompon, who + ran up to it, “Look there! before the door of the house.” + </p> + <p> + “What a pretty carriage! How comfortable a body’d be inside of + it!” + </p> + <p> + “That carriage is yours. It is waiting for you.” + </p> + <p> + “Waiting for me!” exclaimed Rose-Pompon; “am I to decide + as short as that?” + </p> + <p> + “Or not at all.” + </p> + <p> + “To-day?” + </p> + <p> + “On the instant.” + </p> + <p> + “But where will they take me?” + </p> + <p> + “How should I know?” + </p> + <p> + “You do not know where they will take me?” + </p> + <p> + “Not I,”—and Dumoulin still spoke the truth—“the + coachman has his orders.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you know all this is very funny, Ninny Moulin?” + </p> + <p> + “I believe you. If it were not funny, where would be the pleasure?” + </p> + <p> + “You are right.” + </p> + <p> + “Then you accept the offer? That is well. I am delighted both for + you and myself.” + </p> + <p> + “For yourself?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; because, in accepting, you render me a great service.” + </p> + <p> + “You? How so?” + </p> + <p> + “It matters little, as long as I feel obliged to you.” + </p> + <p> + “True.” + </p> + <p> + “Come, then; let us set out!” + </p> + <p> + “Bah! after all, they cannot eat me,” said Rose-Pompon, + resolutely. + </p> + <p> + With a skip and a jump, she went to fetch a rose-colored cap, and, going + up to a broken looking-glass, placed the cap very much cocked on one side + on her bands of light hair. This left uncovered her snowy neck, with the + silky roots of the hair behind, and gave to her pretty face a very + mischievous, not to say licentious expression. + </p> + <p> + “My cloak!” said she to Ninny Moulin, who seemed to be + relieved from a considerable amount of uneasiness, since she had accepted + his offer. + </p> + <p> + “Fie! a cloak will not do,” answered her companion, feeling + once more in his pocket and drawing out a fine Cashmere shawl, which he + threw over Rose-Pompon’s shoulders. + </p> + <p> + “A Cashmere!” cried the young girl, trembling with pleasure + and joyous surprise. Then she added, with an air of heroism: “It is + settled! I will run the gauntlet.” And with a light step she + descended the stairs, followed by Ninny Moulin. + </p> + <p> + The worthy greengrocer was at her post. “Good-morning, mademoiselle; + you are early to-day,” said she to the young girl. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Mother Arsene; there is my key.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you, mademoiselle.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! now I think of it,” said Rose Pompon, suddenly, in a + whisper, as she turned towards Ninny Moulin, and withdrew further from the + portress, “what is to became of Philemon?” + </p> + <p> + “Philemon?” + </p> + <p> + “If he should arrive—” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! the devil!” said Ninny Moulin, scratching his ear. + </p> + <p> + “Yes; if Philemon should arrive, what will they say to him? for I + may be a long time absent.” + </p> + <p> + “Three or four months, I suppose.” + </p> + <p> + “Not more?” + </p> + <p> + “I should think not.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! very good!” said Rose-Pompon. Then, turning towards the + greengrocer, she said to her, after a moment’s reflection: “Mother + Arsene, if Philemon should come home, you will tell him I have gone out—on + business.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, mademoiselle.” + </p> + <p> + “And that he must not forget to feed my pigeons, which are in his + study.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, mademoiselle.” + </p> + <p> + “Good-bye, Mother Arsene.” + </p> + <p> + “Good-bye, mademoiselle.” And Rose-Pompon entered the carriage + in triumph, along with Ninny Moulin. + </p> + <p> + “The devil take me if I know what is to come of all this,” + said Jacques Dumoulin to himself, as the carriage drove rapidly down the + Rue Clovis. “I have repaired my error—and now I laugh at the + rest.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0112" id="link2HCH0112"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VII. ANOTHER SECRET. + </h2> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>he following scene + took place a few days after the abduction of Rose Pompon by Ninny Moulin. + Mdlle. de Cardoville was seated in a dreamy mood, in her cabinet, which + was hung with green silk, and furnished with an ebony library, ornamented + with large bronze caryatides. By some significant signs, one could + perceive that Mdlle. de Cardoville had sought in the fine airs some relief + from sad and serious thoughts. Near an open piano, was a harp, placed + before a music-stand. A little further, on a table covered with boxes of + oil and water-color, were several brilliant sketches. Most of them + represented Asiatic scenes, lighted by the fires of an oriental sun. + Faithful to her fancy of dressing herself at home in a picturesque style, + Mademoiselle de Cardoville resembled that day one of those proud portraits + of Velasquez, with stern and noble aspect. Her gown was of black moire, + with wide swelling petticoat, long waist, and sleeve slashed with + rose-colored satin, fastened together with jet bugles. A very stiff, + Spanish ruff reached almost to her chin, and was secured round her neck by + a broad rose-colored ribbon. This frill, slightly heaving, sloped down as + far as the graceful swell of the rose-colored stomacher, laced with + strings of jet beads, and terminating in a point at the waist. It is + impossible to express how well this black garment, with its ample and + shining folds, relieved with rose-color and brilliant jet, skin, + harmonized with the shining whiteness of Adrienne’s and the golden + flood of her beautiful hair, whose long, silky ringlets descended to her + bosom. + </p> + <p> + The young lady was in a half-recumbent posture, with her elbow resting on + a couch covered with green silk. The back of this piece of furniture, + which was pretty high towards the fireplace, sloped down insensibly + towards the foot. A sort of light, semicircular trellis-work, in gilded + bronze, raised about five feet from the ground, covered with flowering + plants (the admirable passiflores quadrangulatoe, planted in a deep ebony + box, from the centre of which rose the trellis-work), surrounded this + couch with a sort of screen of foliage enamelled with large flowers, green + without, purple within, and as brilliant as those flowers of porcelain, + which we receive from Saxony. A sweet, faint perfume, like a faint mixture + of jasmine with violet, rose from the cup of these admirable passiflores. + Strange enough, a large quantity of new books (Adrienne having bought them + since the last two or three days) and quite fresh-cut, were scattered + around her on the couch, and on a little table; whilst other larger + volumes, amongst which were several atlases full of engravings, were piled + on the sumptuous fur, which formed the carpet beneath the divan. Stranger + still, these books, though of different forms, and by different authors, + alt treated of the same subject. The posture of Adrienne revealed a sort + of melancholy dejection. Her cheeks were pale; a light blue circle + surrounded her large, black eyes, now half-closed, and gave to them an + expression of profound grief. Many causes contributed to this sorrow—amongst + others, the disappearance of Mother Bunch. Without absolutely believing + the perfidious insinuations of Rodin, who gave her to understand that, in + the fear of being unmasked by him, the hunchback had not dared to remain + in the house, Adrienne felt a cruel sinking of the heart, when she thought + how this young girl, in whom she had had so much confidence, had fled from + her almost sisterly hospitality, without even uttering a word of + gratitude; for care had been taken not to show her the few lines written + by the poor needlewoman to her benefactress, just before her departure. + </p> + <p> + She had only been told of the note of five hundred francs found on her + desk; and this last inexplicable circumstance had contributed to awaken + cruel suspicions in the breast of Mdlle. de Cardoville. She already felt + the fatal effects of that mistrust of everything and everybody, which + Rodin had recommended to her; and this sentiment of suspicion and reserve + had the more tendency to become powerful, that, for the first time in her + life, Mdlle. de Cardoville, until then a stranger to all deception, had a + secret to conceal—a secret, which was equally her happiness, her + shame, and her torment. Half-recumbent on her divan, pensive and + depressed, Adrienne pursued, with a mind often absent, one of her newly + purchased books. Suddenly, she uttered an exclamation of surprise; the + hand which held the book trembled like a leaf, and from that moment she + appeared to read with passionate attention and devouring curiosity. Soon, + her eyes sparkled with enthusiasm, her smile assumed ineffable sweetness, + and she seemed at once proud, happy, delighted—but, as she turned + over the last page, her countenance expressed disappointment and chagrin. + Then she recommenced this reading, which had occasioned her such sweet + emotion, and this time she read with the most deliberate slowness, going + over each page twice, and spelling, as it were, every line, every word. + From time to time, she paused, and in a pensive mood, with her forehead + leaning on her fair hand, she seemed to reflect, in a deep reverie, on the + passages she had read with such tender and religious love. Arriving at a + passage which so affected her, that a tear started in her eye, she + suddenly turned the volume, to see on the cover the name of the author. + For a few seconds, she contemplated this name with a singular expression + of gratitude, and could not forbear raising to her rosy lips the page on + which it was printed. After reading many times over the lines with which + she had been so much struck, forgetting, no doubt, the letter in the + spirit, she began to reflect so deeply, that the book glided from her + hand, and fell upon the carpet. During the course of this reverie, the + eyes of the young girl rested, at first mechanically, upon an admirable + bas-relief, placed on an ebony stand, near one of the windows. This + magnificent bronze, recently cast after a plaster copy from the antique, + represented the triumph of the Indian Bacchus. Never, perhaps, had Grecian + art attained such rare perfection. The youthful conqueror, half clad in a + lion’s skin, which displayed his juvenile grace and charming purity + of form shone with divine beauty. Standing up in a car, drawn by two + tigers, with an air at once gentle and proud, he leaned with one hand upon + a thyrsus, and with the other guided his savage steeds in tranquil + majesty. By this rare mixture of grace, vigor, and serenity, it was easy + to recognize the hero who had waged such desperate combats with men and + with monsters of the forest. Thanks to the brownish tone of the figure, + the light, falling from one side of the sculpture, admirably displayed the + form of the youthful god, which, carved in relievo, and thus illumined, + shone like a magnificent statue of pale gold upon the dark fretted + background of the bronze. + </p> + <p> + When Adrienne’s look first rested on this rare assemblage of divine + perfections, her countenance was calm and thoughtful. But this + contemplation, at first mechanical, became gradually more and more + attentive and conscious, and the young lady, rising suddenly from her + seat, slowly approached the bas-relief, as if yielding to the invincible + attraction of an extraordinary resemblance. Then a slight blush appeared + on the cheeks of Mdlle. de Cardoville, stole across her face, and spread + rapidly to her neck and forehead. She approached still closer, threw round + a hasty glance, as if half-ashamed, or as if she had feared to be + surprised in a blamable action, and twice stretched forth her hand, + trembling with emotion, to touch with the tips of her charming fingers the + bronze forehead of the Indian Bacchus. And twice she stopped short, with a + kind of modest hesitation. At last, the temptation became too strong for + her. She yielded to it; and her alabaster finger, after delicately + caressing the features of pale gold, was pressed more boldly for an + instant on the pure and noble brow of the youthful god. At this pressure, + though so slight, Adrienne seemed to feel a sort of electric shock; she + trembled in every limb, her eyes languished, and, after swimming for an + instant in their humid and brilliant crystal, were raised, half-closed, to + heaven. Then her head was thrown a little way back, her knees bent + insensibly, her rosy lips were half opened, as if to give a passage to her + heated breath, for her bosom heaved violently, as thought youth and life + had accelerated the pulsations of her heart, and made her blood boil in + her veins. Finally, the burning cheeks of Adrienne betrayed a species of + ecstasy, timid and passionate, chaste and sensual, the expression of which + was ineffably touching. + </p> + <p> + An affecting spectacle indeed is that of a young maiden, whose modest brow + flushes with the first fires of a secret passion. Does not the Creator of + all things animate the body as well as the soul, with a spark of divine + energy? Should He not be religiously glorified in the intellect as in the + senses, with which He has so paternally endowed His creatures? They are + impious blasphemers who seek to stifle the celestial senses, instead of + guiding and harmonizing them in their divine flight. Suddenly, Mdlle. de + Cardoville started, raised her head, opened her eyes as if awakening from + a dream, withdrew abruptly from the sculptures, and walked several times + up and down the room in an agitated manner, pressing her burning hands to + her forehead. Then, falling, as it were, exhausted on her seat, her tears + flowed in abundance. The most bitter grief was visible in her features, + which revealed the fatal struggle that was passing within her. By degrees, + her tears ceased. To this crisis of painful dejection succeeded a species + of violent scorn and indignation against herself, which were expressed by + these words that escaped her: “For the first time in my life, I feel + weak and cowardly. Oh yes! cowardly—very cowardly!” + </p> + <p> + The sound of a door opening and closing, roused Mdlle. de Cardoville from + her bitter reflections. Georgette entered the room, and said to her + mistress: “Madame, can you receive the Count de Montbron?” + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:65%;"> + <img src="images/20533m.jpg" alt="20533m” width=" /><br /> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/20533.jpg"><i>Original</i></a> + </h5> + <p> + Adrienne, too well-bred to exhibit before her women the sort of impatience + occasioned by this unseasonable visit, said to Georgette: “You told + M. de Montbron that I was at home?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Madame.” + </p> + <p> + “Then beg him to walk in.” Though Mdlle. de Cardoville felt at + that moment much vexed at the arrival of Montbron, let us hasten to say, + that she entertained for him an almost filial affection, and a profound + esteem, though, by a not unfrequent contrast, she almost always differed + from him in opinion. Hence arose, when Mdlle. de Cardoville had nothing to + disturb her mind, the most gay and animated discussions, in which M. de + Montbron, notwithstanding his mocking and sceptical humor, his long + experience, his rare knowledge of men and things, his fashionable + training, in a word, had not always the advantage, and even acknowledged + his defeat gayly enough. Thus, to give an idea of the differences of the + count and Adrienne, before, as he would say laughingly, he had made + himself her accomplice, he had always opposed (from other motives than + those alleged by Madame de Saint-Dizier) Adrienne’s wish to live + alone and in her own way; whilst Rodin, on the contrary, by investing the + young girl’s resolve on this subject with an ideal grandeur of + intention, had acquired a species of influence over her. M. de Montbron, + now upwards of sixty years of age, had been a most prominent character + during the Directory, Consulate, and the Empire. His prodigal style of + living, his wit, his gayety, his duels, his amours, and his losses at + play, had given him a leading influence in the best society of his day; + while his character, his kind-heartedness, and liberality, secured him the + lasting friendship of nearly all his female friends. At the time we now + present him to the reader, he was still a great gambler; and, moreover, a + very lucky gambler. He had, as we have stated, a very lordly style; his + manners were decided, but polished and lively; his habits were such as + belong to the higher classes of society, though he could be excessively + sharp towards people whom he did not like. He was tall and thin, and his + slim figure gave him an almost youthful appearance; his forehead was high, + and a little bald; his hair was gray and short, his countenance long, his + nose aquiline, his eyes blue and piercing, and his teeth white, and still + very good. + </p> + <p> + “The Count de Montbron,” said Georgette, opening the door. The + count entered, and hastened to kiss Adrienne’s hand, with a sort of + paternal familiarity. + </p> + <p> + “Come!” said M. de Montbron to himself; “let us try to + discover the truth I am in search of, that we may escape a great + misfortune.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0113" id="link2HCH0113"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VIII. THE CONFESSION. + </h2> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">M</span>dlle. de + Cardoville, not wishing to betray the cause of the violent feelings which + agitated her, received M. de Montbron with a feigned and forced gayety. On + the other hand, notwithstanding his tact and knowledge of the world, the + count was much embarrassed how to enter upon the subject on which he + wished to confer with Adrienne, and he resolved to feel his way, before + seriously commencing the conversation. After looking at the young lady for + some seconds, M. de Montbron shook his head, and said, with a sigh of + regret: “My dear child, I am not pleased.” + </p> + <p> + “Some affair of the heart, or of hearts, my dear count?” + returned Adrienne, smiling. + </p> + <p> + “Of the heart,” said M. de Montbron. + </p> + <p> + “What! you, so great a player, think more of a woman’s whim + than a throw of the dice?” + </p> + <p> + “I have a heavy heart, and you are the cause of it, my dear child.” + </p> + <p> + “M. de Montbron, you will make me very proud,” said Adrienne, + with a smile. + </p> + <p> + “You would be wrong, for I tell you plainly, my trouble is caused by + your neglect of your beauty. Yes, your countenance is pale, dejected, + sorrowful; you have been low-spirited for the last few days; you have + something on your mind, I am sure of it.” + </p> + <p> + “My dear M. de Montbron, you have so much penetration, that you may + be allowed to fall for once, as now. I am not sad, I have nothing on my + mind, and—I am about to utter a very silly piece of impertinence—I + have never thought myself so pretty.” + </p> + <p> + “On the contrary, nothing could be more modest than such an + assertion. Who told you that falsehood? a woman?” + </p> + <p> + “No; it was my heart, and it spoke the truth,” answered + Adrienne, with a slight degree of emotion. “Understand it, if you + can,” she added. + </p> + <p> + “Do you mean that you are proud of the alteration in your features, + because you are proud of the sufferings of your heart?” said M. de + Montbron, looking at Adrienne with attention. “Be it so; I am then + right. You have some sorrow. I persist in it,” added the count, + speaking with a tone of real feeling, “because it is painful to me.” + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:65%;"> + <img src="images/20543m.jpg" alt="20543m” width=" /><br /> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/20543.jpg"><i>Original</i></a> + </h5> + <p> + “Be satisfied; I am as happy as possible—for every instant I + take delight in repeating, how, at my age, I am free—absolutely + free!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; free to torment yourself, free to be miserable.” + </p> + <p> + “Come, come, my dear count!” said Adrienne, “you are + recommencing our old quarrel. I still find in you the ally of my aunt and + the Abbe d’Aigrigny.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; as the republicans are the allies of the legitimists—to + destroy each other in their turn. Talking of your abominable aunt, they + say that she holds a sort of council at her house these last few days, a + regular mitred conspiracy. She is certainly in a good way.” + </p> + <p> + “Why not? Formerly, she would have wished to be Goddess of Reason, + now, we shall perhaps see her canonized. She has already performed the + first part of the life of Mary Magdalen.” + </p> + <p> + “You can never speak worse of her than she deserves, my dear child. + Still, though for quite opposite reasons, I agreed with her on the subject + of your wish to reside alone.” + </p> + <p> + “I know it.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; and because I wished to see you a thousand times freer than + you really are, I advised you—” + </p> + <p> + “To marry.” + </p> + <p> + “No doubt; you would have had your dear liberty, with its + consequences, only, instead of Mdlle. de Cardoville, we should have called + you Madame Somebody, having found an excellent husband to be responsible + for your independence.” + </p> + <p> + “And who would have been responsible for this ridiculous husband? + And who would bear a mocked and degraded name? I, perhaps?” said + Adrienne, with animation. “No, no, my dear count, good or ill, I + will answer for my own actions; to my name shall attach the reputation, + which I alone have formed. I am as incapable of basely dishonoring a name + which is not mine, as of continually bearing it myself, if it were not + held in, esteem. And, as one can only answer for one’s own actions, + I prefer to keep my name.” + </p> + <p> + “You are the only person in the world that has such ideas.” + </p> + <p> + “Why?” said Adrienne, laughing. “Because it appears to + me horrible, to see a poor girl lost and buried in some ugly and selfish + man, and become, as they say seriously, the better half of the monster—yes! + a fresh and blooming rose to become part of a frightful thistle!—Come, + my dear count; confess there is something odious in this conjugal + metempsychosis,” added Adrienne, with a burst of laughter. + </p> + <p> + The forced and somewhat feverish gayety of Adrienne contrasted painfully + with her pale and suffering countenance; it was so easy to see that she + strove to stifle with laughter some deep sorrow, that M. de Montbron was + much affected by it; but, dissembling his emotion, he appeared to reflect + a moment, and took up mechanically one of the new, fresh-cut books, by + which Adrienne was surrounded. After casting a careless glance at this + volume, he continued, still dissembling his feelings: “Come, my dear + madcap: this is another folly. Suppose I were twenty years old, and that + you did me the honor to marry me—you would be called Lady de + Montbron, I imagine?” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps.” + </p> + <p> + “How perhaps? Would you not bear my name, if you married me?” + </p> + <p> + “My dear count,” said Adrienne, with a smile, “do not + let us pursue this hypothesis, which can only leave us—regrets.” + </p> + <p> + Suddenly, M. de Montbron started, and looked at Mdlle, de Cardoville with + an expression of surprise. For some moments, whilst talking to Adrienne, + he had mechanically—taken up two or three of the volumes scattered + over the couch, and had glanced at their titles in the same careless + manner. The first was the “Modern History of India.” The + second, “Travels in India.” The third, “Letters on + India.” Much surprised, M. de Montbron had continued his + investigation, and found that the fourth volume continued this Indian + nomenclature, being “Rambles in India.” The fifth was, “Recollections + of Hindostan.” The sixth, “Notes of a Traveller in the East + Indies.” + </p> + <p> + Hence the astonishment, which, for many serious reasons, M. de Montbron + had no longer been able to conceal, and which his looks betrayed to + Adrienne. The latter, having completely forgotten the presence of the + accusing volumes by which she was surrounded, yielded to a movement of + involuntary confusion, and blushed slightly; but, her firm and resolute + character again coming to her aid, she looked full at M. de Montbron, and + said to him: “Well, my dear count! what surprises you?” + </p> + <p> + Instead of answering, M. de Montbron appeared still more absorbed in + thought, and contemplating the young girl, he could not forbear saying to + himself: “No, no—it is impossible—and yet—” + </p> + <p> + “It would, perhaps, be indiscreet in me to listen to your soliloquy, + my dear count,” said Adrienne. + </p> + <p> + “Excuse me, my dear child; but what I see surprises me so much—” + </p> + <p> + “And pray what do you see?” + </p> + <p> + “The traces of so great and novel an interest in all that relates to + India,” said M. de Montbron, laying a slight stress on his words, + and fixing a piercing look upon the young girl. + </p> + <p> + “Well!” said Adrienne, stoutly. + </p> + <p> + “Well! I seek the cause of this sudden passion—” + </p> + <p> + “Geographical?” said Mdlle. de Cardoville, interrupting M. de + Montbron: “you may find this taste somewhat serious for my age my + dear count—but one must find occupation for leisure hours—and + then, having a cousin, who is both an Indian and a prince, I should like + to know something of the fortunate country from which I derive this savage + relationship.” + </p> + <p> + These last words were pronounced with a bitterness that was not lost on M. + de Montbron: watching Adrienne attentively, he observed: “Meseems, + you speak of the prince with some harshness.” + </p> + <p> + “No; I speak of him with indifference.” + </p> + <p> + “Yet he deserves a very different feeling.” + </p> + <p> + “On the part of some other person, perhaps,” replied Adrienne, + dryly. + </p> + <p> + “He is so unhappy!” said M, de Montbron, in a tone of sincere + pity. “When I saw him the other day, he made my heart ache.” + </p> + <p> + “What have I to do with it?” exclaimed Adrienne, with an + accent of painful and almost angry impatience. + </p> + <p> + “I should have thought that his cruel torments at least deserved + your pity,” answered the count gravely. + </p> + <p> + “Pity—from me!” cried Adrienne, with an air of offended + pride. Then restraining herself, she added coldly: “You are jesting, + M. de Montbron. It is not in sober seriousness that you ask me to take + interest in the amorous torments of your prince.” + </p> + <p> + There was so much cold disdain in these last words of Adrienne, her pale + and agitated countenance betrayed such haughty bitterness, that M. de + Montbron said, sorrowfully: “It is then true; I have not been + deceived. I, who thought, from our old and constant friendship, that I had + some claim to your confidence have known nothing of it—while you + told all to another. It is painful, very painful to me.” + </p> + <p> + “I do not understand you, M. de Montbron.” + </p> + <p> + “Well then, since I must speak plainly,” cried the count, + “there is, I see, no hope for this unhappy boy—you love + another.” + </p> + <p> + As Adrienne started—“Oh! you cannot deny it,” resumed + the count; “your paleness and melancholy for the last few days, your + implacable indifference to the prince—all prove to me that you are + in love.” + </p> + <p> + Hurt by the manner in which the count spoke of the sentiment he attributed + to her, Mdlle. de Cardoville answered with dignified stateliness: “You + must know, M. de Montbron, that a secret discovered is not a confidence. + Your language surprises me. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, my dear friend, if I use the poor privilege of experience—if + I guess that you are in love—if I tell you so, and even go so far as + to reproach you with it—it is because the life or death of this poor + prince is concerned; and I feel for him as if he were my son, for it is + impossible to know him without taking the warmest interest in him.” + </p> + <p> + “It would be singular,” returned Adrienne, with redoubled + coldness, and still more bitter irony, “if my love—admitting I + were in love—could have any such strange influence on Prince Djalma. + What can it matter to him?” added she, with almost agonizing + disdain. + </p> + <p> + “What can it matter to him? Now really, my dear friend, permit me to + tell you, that it is you who are jesting cruelly. What! this unfortunate + youth loves you with all the blind ardor of a first love—twice has + attempted to terminate by suicide the horrible tortures of his passion—and + you think it strange that your love for another should be with him a + question of life or death!” + </p> + <p> + “He loves me then?” cried the young girl, with an accent + impossible to describe. + </p> + <p> + “He loves you to madness, I tell you; I have seen it.” + </p> + <p> + Adrienne seemed overcome with amazement. From pale, she became crimson; as + the redness disappeared, her lips grew white, and trembled. Her emotion + was so strong, that she remained for some moments unable to speak, and + pressed her hand to her heart, as if to moderate its pulsations. + </p> + <p> + M. de Montbron, almost frightened at the sudden change in Adrienne’s + countenance, hastily approached her, exclaiming: “Good heaven, my + poor child! what is the matter?” + </p> + <p> + Instead of answering, Adrienne waved her hand to him, in sign that he + should not be alarmed; and, in fact, the count was speedily tranquillized, + for the beautiful face, which had so lately been contracted with pain, + irony, and scorn, seemed now expressive of the sweetest and most ineffable + emotions; Adrienne appeared to luxuriate in delight, and to fear losing + the least particle of it; then, as reflection told her, that she was, + perhaps, the dupe of illusion or falsehood, she exclaimed suddenly, with + anguish, addressing herself to M. de Montbron: “But is what you tell + me true?” + </p> + <p> + “What I tell you!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes—that Prince Djalma—” + </p> + <p> + “Loves you to madness?—Alas! it is only too true.” + </p> + <p> + “No, no,” cried Adrienne, with a charming expression of + simplicity; “that could never be too true.” + </p> + <p> + “What do you say?” cried the count. + </p> + <p> + “But that woman?” asked Adrienne, as if the word scorched her + lips. + </p> + <p> + “What woman?” + </p> + <p> + “She who has been the cause of all these painful struggles.” + </p> + <p> + “That woman—why, who should it be but you?” + </p> + <p> + “What, I? Oh! tell me, was it I?” + </p> + <p> + “On my word of honor. I trust my experience. I have never seen so + ardent and sincere a passion.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! is it really so? Has he never had any other love?” + </p> + <p> + “Never.” + </p> + <p> + “Yet I was told so.” + </p> + <p> + “By whom?” + </p> + <p> + “M. Rodin.” + </p> + <p> + “That Djalma—” + </p> + <p> + “Had fallen violently in love, two days after I saw him.” + </p> + <p> + “M. Rodin told you that!” cried M. de Montbron, as if struck + with a sudden idea. “Why, it is he who told Djalma that you were in + love with some one else.” + </p> + <p> + “I!” + </p> + <p> + “And this it was which occasioned the poor youth’s dreadful + despair.” + </p> + <p> + “It was this which occasioned my despair.” + </p> + <p> + “You love him, then, just as he loves you!” exclaimed M. de + Montbron, transported with joy. + </p> + <p> + “Love him!” said Mdlle. de Cardoville. A discreet knock at the + door interrupted Adrienne. + </p> + <p> + “One of your servants, no doubt. Be calm,” said the count. + </p> + <p> + “Come in,” said Adrienne, in an agitated voice. + </p> + <p> + “What is it?” said Mdlle. de Cardoville. Florine entered the + room. + </p> + <p> + “M. Rodin has just been here. Fearing to disturb mademoiselle, he + would not come in; but he will return in half an hour. Will mademoiselle + receive him?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes,” said the count to Florine; “even if I am + still here, show him in by all means. Is not that your opinion?” + asked M. de Montbron of Adrienne. + </p> + <p> + “Quite so,” answered the young girl; and a flash of + indignation darted from her eyes, as she thought of Rodin’s perfidy. + </p> + <p> + “Oho! the old knave!” said M. de Montbron, “I always had + my doubts of that crooked neck!” Florine withdrew, leaving the count + with her mistress. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0114" id="link2HCH0114"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER IX. LOVE. + </h2> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">M</span>dlle. de + Cardoville was transfigured. For the first time her beauty shone forth in + all its lustre. Until now overshadowed by indifference, or darkened by + grief, she appeared suddenly illumined by a brilliant ray of sunshine. The + slight irritation caused by Rodin’s perfidy passed like an + imperceptible shade from her brow. What cared she now for falsehood and + perfidy? Had they not failed? And, for the future, what human power could + interpose between her and Djalma, so sure of each other? Who would dare to + cross the path of those two things, resolute and strong with the + irresistible power of youth, love, and liberty? Who would dare to follow + them into that blazing sphere, whither they went, so beautiful and happy, + to blend together in their inextinguishable love, protected by the proof + armor of their own happiness? Hardly had Florine left the room, when + Adrienne approached M. de Montbron with a rapid step. She seemed to have + become taller; and to watch her advancing, light, radiant, and triumphant, + one might have fancied her a goddess walking upon clouds. + </p> + <p> + “When shall I see him?” was her first word to M. de Montbron. + </p> + <p> + “Well—say to-morrow; he must be prepared for so much + happiness; in so ardent a nature, such sudden, unexpected joy might be + terrible.” + </p> + <p> + Adrienne remained pensive for a moment, and then said rapidly: “To + morrow—yes—not before to-morrow. I have a superstition of the + heart.” + </p> + <p> + “What is it?” + </p> + <p> + “You shall know. HE LOVES ME—that word says all, contains all, + comprehends all, is all—and yet I have a thousand questions to ask + with regard to him—but I will ask none before to-morrow, because, by + a mysterious fatality, to-morrow is with me a sacred anniversary. It will + be an age till then; but happily, I can wait. Look here!” + </p> + <p> + Beckoning M. de Montbron, she led him to the Indian Bacchus. “How + much it is like him!” said she to the count. + </p> + <p> + “Indeed,” exclaimed the latter, “it is strange!” + </p> + <p> + “Strange?” returned Adrienne, with a smile of gentle pride; + “strange, that a hero, a demi-god, an ideal of beauty, should + resemble Djalma?” + </p> + <p> + “How you love him!” said M. de Montbron, deeply touched, and + almost dazzled by the felicity which beamed from the countenance of + Adrienne. + </p> + <p> + “I must have suffered a good deal, do you not think so?” said + she, after a moment’s silence. + </p> + <p> + “If I had not made up my mind to come here to-day, almost in + despair, what would have happened?” + </p> + <p> + “I cannot tell; I should perhaps have died, for I am wounded + mortally here”—she pressed her hand to her heart. “But + what might have been death to me, will now be life.” + </p> + <p> + “It was horrible,” said the count, shuddering. “Such a + passion, buried in your own breast, proud as you are—” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, proud—but not self-conceited. When I learned his love + for another, and that the impression which I fancied I had made on him at + our first interview had been immediately effaced, I renounced all hope, + without being able to renounce my love. Instead of shunning his image, I + surrounded myself with all that could remind me of him. In default of + happiness, there is a bitter pleasure in suffering through what we love.” + </p> + <p> + “I can now understand your Indian library.” + </p> + <p> + Instead of answering the count, Adrienne took from the stand one of the + freshly-cut volumes, and, bringing it to M. de Montbron, said to him, with + a smile and a celestial expression of joy and happiness: “I was + wrong—I am vain. Just read this—aloud, if you please. I tell + you that I can wait for to-morrow.” Presenting the book to the + count, she pointed out one passage with the tip of her charming finger. + Then she sank down upon the couch, and, in an attitude of deep attention, + with her body bent forward, her hands crossed upon the cushion, her chin + resting upon her hands, her large eyes fixed with a sort of adoration on + the Indian Bacchus, that was just opposite to her, she appeared by this + impassioned contemplation to prepare herself to listen to M. de Montbron. + </p> + <p> + The latter, much astonished, began to read, after again looking at + Adrienne, who said to him, in her most coaxing voice, “Very slowly, + I beg of you.” + </p> + <p> + M. de Montbron then read the following passage from the journal of a + traveller in India: “‘When I was at Bombay, in 1829, I + constantly heard amongst the English there, of a young hero, the son of—‘” + </p> + <p> + The count having paused a second, by reason of the barbarous spelling of + the name of Djalma’s father, Adrienne immediately said to him, in + her soft voice: “The son of Kadja-sing.” + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:65%;"> + <img src="images/20551m.jpg" alt="20551m” width=" /><br /> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/20551.jpg"><i>Original</i></a> + </h5> + <p> + “What a memory!” said the count, with a smile. And he resumed: + “‘A young hero, the son of Kadja-sing, king of Mundi. On his + return from a distant and sanguinary expedition amongst the mountains + against this Indian king, Colonel Drake was filled with enthusiasm for + this son of Kadja-sing, known as Djalma. Hardly beyond the age of + childhood, this young prince has in the course of this implacable war + given proofs of such chivalrous intrepidity, and of so noble a character, + that his father has been surnamed the Father of the Generous.’” + </p> + <p> + “That is a touching custom,” said the count. “To + recompense the father, as it were, by giving him a surname in honor of his + son, is a great idea. But how strange you should have met with this book!” + added the count, in surprise. “I can understand; there is matter + here to inflame the coolest head.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! you will see, you will see,” said Adrienne. + </p> + <p> + The count continued to read: “‘Colonel Drake, one of the + bravest and best officers of the English army, said yesterday, in my + presence, that having been dangerously wounded, and taken prisoner by + Prince Djalma, after an energetic resistance, he had been conveyed to the + camp established in the village of—” + </p> + <p> + Here there was the same hesitation on the part of the count, on seeing a + still more barbarous name than the first; so, not wishing to try the + adventure, he paused, and said to Adrienne, “Now really, I give this + up.” + </p> + <p> + “And yet it is so easy!” replied Adrienne; and she pronounced + with inexpressible softness, a name in itself soft, “The village of + Shumshabad.” + </p> + <p> + “You appear to have an infallible process for remembering + geographical names,” said the count, continuing: “‘Once + arrived at the camp, Colonel Drake received the kindest hospitality, and + Prince Djalma treated him with the respect of a son. It was there that the + colonel became acquainted with some facts, which carried to the highest + pitch his enthusiasm for prince Djalma. I heard him relate the two + following. + </p> + <p> + “‘In one of the battles, the prince was accompanied by a young + Indian of about twelve years of age, whom he loved tenderly, and who + served him as a page, following him on horseback to carry his spare + weapons. This child was idolized by its mother; just as they set out on + the expedition, she had entrusted her son to Prince Djalma’s care, + saying, with a stoicism worthy of antiquity, “Let him be your + brother.” “He shall be my brother,” had replied the + prince. In the height of a disastrous defeat, the child is severely + wounded, and his horse killed; the prince, at peril of his life, + notwithstanding the perception of a forced retreat, disengages him, and + places him on the croup of his own horse; they are pursued; a musket-ball + strikes their steed, who is just able to reach a jungle, in the midst of + which, after some vain efforts, he falls exhausted. The child is unable to + walk, but the prince carries him in his arms, and hides with him in the + thickest part of the jungle. The English arrive, and begin their search; + but the two victims escape. After a night and a day of marches, + counter-marches, stratagems, fatigues, unheard-of perils, the prince, + still, carrying the child, one of whose legs is broken, arrives at his + father’s camp, and says, with the utmost simplicity, “I had + promised his mother that I would act a brother’s part by him—and + I have done so.”’ + </p> + <p> + “That is admirable!” cried the count. + </p> + <p> + “Go on—pray go on!” said Adrienne, drying a tear, + without removing her eyes from the bas-relief, which she continued to + contemplate with growing adoration. + </p> + <p> + The count continued: “‘Another time, Prince Djalma, followed + by two black slaves, went, before sunrise, to a very wild spot, to seize a + couple of tiger cubs only a few days old. The den had been previously + discovered. The two old tigers were still abroad. One of the blacks + entered the den by a narrow aperture; the other, aided by Djalma, cut down + a tolerably large tree, to prepare a trap for one of the old tigers. On + the side of the aperture, the cavern was exceedingly steep. The prince + mounted to the top of it with agility, to set his trap, with the aid of + the other black. Suddenly, a dreadful roar was heard; and, in a few + bounds, the tigress, returning from the chase, reached the opening of the + den. The black who was laying the trap with the prince had his skull + fractured by her bite; the tree, falling across the entrance, prevented + the female from penetrating the cavern, and at the same time stopped the + exit of the black who had seized the cubs. + </p> + <p> + “‘About twenty feet higher, upon a ledge of rock, the prince + lay flat on the ground, looking down upon this frightful spectacle. The + tigress, rendered furious by the cries of her little ones, gnawed the + hands of the black, who, from the interior of the den, strove to support + the trunk of the tree, his only rampart, whilst he uttered the most + lamentable outcries.’ + </p> + <p> + “It is horrible!” said the count. + </p> + <p> + “Oh! go on! pray go on!” exclaimed Adrienne, with excitement; + “you will see what can be achieved by the heroism of goodness.” + </p> + <p> + The count pursued: “‘Suddenly the prince seized his dagger + between his teeth, fastened his sash to a block of stone, took his axe in + one hand, and with the other slid down this substitute for a rope; falling + a few steps from the wild beast, he sprang upon her, and, swift as + lightning, dealt her two mortal strokes, just as the black, losing his + strength, was about to drop the trunk of the tree, sure to have been torn + to pieces.’” + </p> + <p> + “And you are astonished at his resemblance with the demi-god, to + whom fable itself ascribes no more generous devotion!” cried the + young lady, with still increasing excitement. + </p> + <p> + “I am astonished no longer, I only admire,” said the count, in + a voice of emotion; “and, at these two noble instances of heroism, + my heart beats with enthusiasm, as if I were still twenty.” + </p> + <p> + “And the noble heart of this traveller beat like yours at the + recital,” said Adrienne; “you will see.” + </p> + <p> + “‘What renders so admirable the intrepidity of the prince, is, + that, according to the principle of Indian castes, the life of a slave is + of no importance; thus a king’s son, risking his life for the safety + of a poor creature, so generally despised, obeyed an heroic and truly + Christian instinct of charity, until then unheard of in this country.” + </p> + <p> + “‘Two such actions,’ said Colonel Drake, with good + reason, ‘are sufficient to paint the man; it is with a feeling of + profound respect and admiration, therefore, that I, an obscure traveller, + have written the name of Prince Djalma in my book; and at the same time, I + have experienced a kind of sorrow, when I have asked myself what would be + the future fate of this prince, buried in the depths of a savage country, + always devastated by war. However humble may be the homage that I pay to + this character, worthy of the heroic age, his name will at least be + repeated with generous enthusiasm by all those who have hearts that beat + in sympathy with what is great and noble.’” + </p> + <p> + “And just now, when I read those simple and touching lines,” + resumed Adrienne, “I could not forbear pressing my lips to the name + of the traveller.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; he is such as I thought him,” cried the count, with + still more emotion, as he returned the book to Adrienne, who rose, with a + grave and touching air, and said to him: “It was thus I wished you + to know him, that you might understand my adoration; for this courage, + this heroic goodness, I had guessed beforehand, when I was an involuntary + listener to his conversation. From that moment, I knew him to be generous + as intrepid, tender and sensitive as energetic and resolute; and when I + saw him so marvellously beautiful—so different, in the noble + character of his countenance, and even in the style of his garments, from + all I had hitherto met with—when I saw the impression that I made + upon him, and which I perhaps felt still more violently—I knew that + my whole life was bound up with his love.” + </p> + <p> + “And now, what are your plans?” + </p> + <p> + “Divine, radiant as my heart. When he learns his happiness, I wish + that Djalma should feel dazzled as I do, so as to prevent my gazing on my + sun; for I repeat, that until tomorrow will be a century to me. Yes, it is + strange! I should have thought that after such a discovery, I should feel + the want of being left alone, plunged in an ocean of delicious dreams. But + no! from this time till to-morrow—I dread solitude—I feel a + kind of feverish impatience—uneasy—ardent—Oh! where is + the beneficent fairy, that, touching me with her wand, will lull me into + slumber till to-morrow!” + </p> + <p> + “I will be that beneficent fairy,” said the count, smiling. + </p> + <p> + “You?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I.” + </p> + <p> + “And how so?” + </p> + <p> + “The power of my wand is this: I will relieve you from a portion of + your thoughts by making them materially visible.” + </p> + <p> + “Pray explain yourself.” + </p> + <p> + “And my plan will have another advantage for you. Listen to me; you + are so happy now that you can hear anything. Your odious aunt, and her + equally odious friends, are spreading the report that your residence with + Dr. Baleinier—” + </p> + <p> + “Was rendered necessary by the derangement of my mind,” said + Adrienne, with a smile; “I expected that.” + </p> + <p> + “It is stupid enough; but, as your resolution to live alone makes + many envious of you, and many hostile, you must feel that there will be no + want of persons ready to believe the most absurd calumny possible.” + </p> + <p> + “I hope as much. To pass for mad in the eyes of fools is very + flattering.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; but to prove to fools that they are fools, and that in the + face of all Paris, is much more amusing. Now, people begin to talk of your + absence; you have given up your daily rides; for some time my niece has + appeared alone in our box at the Opera; you wish to kill the time till + to-morrow—well! here is an excellent opportunity. It is two o’clock; + at halfpast three, my niece will come in the carriage; the weather is + splendid; there is sure to be a crowd in the Bois de Boulogne. You can + take a delightful ride, and be seen by everybody. Then, as the air and + movement will have calmed your fever of happiness, I will commence my + magic this evening, and take you to India.” + </p> + <p> + “To India?” + </p> + <p> + “Into the midst of one of those wild forests, in which roar the + lion, the panther, and the tiger. We will have this heroic combat, which + so moved you just now, under our own eyes, in all its terrible reality.” + </p> + <p> + “Really, my dear count, you must be joking.” + </p> + <p> + “Not at all; I promise to show you real wild beasts, formidable + tenants of the country of our demigod—growling tigers—roaring + lions—do you not think that will be better than books?” + </p> + <p> + “But how?” + </p> + <p> + “Come! I must give you the secret of my supernatural power. On + returning from your ride, you shall dine with my niece, and we will go + together to a very curious spectacle now exhibiting at the + Porte-Saint-Martin Theatre. A most extraordinary lion-tamer there shows + you a number of wild beasts, in a state of nature, in the midst of a + forest (here only commences the illusion), and has fierce combats with + them all—tigers, lions, and panthers. All Paris is crowding to these + representations, and all Paris will see you there, more charming than + ever.” + </p> + <p> + “I accept your offer,” said Adrienne, with childish delight. + “Yes, you are right. I feel a strange pleasure in beholding these + ferocious monsters, who will remind me of those that my demi-god so + heroically overcame. I accept also, because, for the first time in my + life, I am anxious to be admired—even by everybody. I accept finally + because—” Here Mdlle. de Cardoville was interrupted by a low + knock at the door, and by the entrance of Florine, who announced M. Rodin. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0115" id="link2HCH0115"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER X. THE EXECUTION. + </h2> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">R</span>odin entered. A + rapid glance at Mdlle. de Cardoville and M. de Montbron told him at once + that he was in a dilemma. In fact, nothing could be less encouraging than + the faces of Adrienne and the count. The latter, when he disliked people, + exhibited his antipathy, as we have already said, by an impertinently + aggressive manner, which had before now occasioned a good number of duels. + At sight of Rodin, his countenance at once assumed a harsh and insolent + expression; resting his elbow on the chimney-piece, and conversing with + Adrienne, he looked disdainfully over his shoulder, without taking the + least notice of the Jesuit’s low bow. On the other hand, at sight of + this man, Mdlle. de Cardoville almost felt surprise, that she should + experience no movement of anger or hatred. The brilliant flame which + burned in her heart, purified it from every vindictive sentiment. She + smiled, on the contrary; for, glancing with gentle pride at the Indian + Bacchus, and then at herself, she asked herself what two beings, so young, + and fair, and free, and loving, could have to fear from this old, sordid + man, with his ignoble and base countenance, now advancing towards her with + the writhing of a reptile. In a word, far from feeling anger or aversion + with regard to Rodin, the young lady seemed full of the spirit of mocking + gayety, and her large eyes, already lighted up with happiness, now + sparkled with irony and mischief. Rodin felt himself ill at ease. People + of his stamp greatly prefer violent to mocking enemies. They can encounter + bursts of rage—sometimes by falling on their knees, weeping, + groaning, and beating their breasts—sometimes by turning on their + adversary, armed and implacable. But they are easily disconcerted by + biting raillery; and thus it was with Rodin. He saw that between Adrienne + de Cardoville and M. de Montbron, he was about to be placed in what is + vulgarly termed a “regular fix.” + </p> + <p> + The count opened the fire; still glancing over his shoulder, he said to + Rodin: “Ah! you are here, my benevolent gentleman!” + </p> + <p> + “Pray, sir, draw a little nearer,” said Adrienne, with a + mocking smile. “Best of friends and model of philosophers—as + well as declared enemy of all fraud and falsehood—I have to pay you + a thousand compliments.” + </p> + <p> + “I accent anything from you, my dear young lady, even though + undeserved,” said the Jesuit, trying to smile, and thus exposing his + vile yellow teeth; “but may I be informed how I have earned these + compliments?” + </p> + <p> + “Your penetration, sir, which is rare—” replied + Adrienne. + </p> + <p> + “And your veracity, sir,” said the count, “which is + perhaps no less rare—” + </p> + <p> + “In what have I exhibited my penetration, my dear young lady?” + said Rodin, coldly. “In what my veracity?” added he, turning + towards M. de Montbron. + </p> + <p> + “In what, sir?” said Adrienne. “Why, you have guessed a + secret surrounded by difficulties and mystery. In a word, you have known + how to read the depths of a woman’s heart.” + </p> + <p> + “I, my dear young lady?” + </p> + <p> + “You, sir! rejoice at it, for your penetration has had the most + fortunate results.” + </p> + <p> + “And your veracity has worked wonders,” added the count. + </p> + <p> + “It is pleasant to do good, even without knowing it,” said + Rodin, still acting on the defensive, and throwing side glances by turns + on the count and Adrienne; “but will you inform me what it is that + deserves this praise—” + </p> + <p> + “Gratitude obliges me to inform you of it,” said Adrienne, + maliciously; “you have discovered, and told Prince Djalma, that I + was passionately in love. Well! I admire your penetration; it was true.” + </p> + <p> + “You have also discovered, and told this lady, that Prince Djalma + was passionately in love,” resumed the count. “Well! I admire + your penetration, my dear sir; it was true.” + </p> + <p> + Rodin looked confused, and at a loss for a reply. + </p> + <p> + “The person that I loved so passionately,” said Adrienne, + “was the prince.” + </p> + <p> + “The person that the prince loved so passionately,” resumed + the count, “was this lady.” + </p> + <p> + These revelations, so sudden and alarming, almost stunned Rodin; he + remained mute and terrified, thinking of the future. + </p> + <p> + “Do you understand now, sir, the extent of our gratitude towards + you?” resumed Adrienne, in a still more mocking tone. “Thanks + to your sagacity, thanks to the touching interest you take in us, the + prince and I are indebted to you for the knowledge of our mutual + sentiments.” + </p> + <p> + The Jesuit had now gradually recovered his presence of mind, and his + apparent calmness greatly irritated M. de Montbron, who, but for Adrienne’s + presence, would have assumed another tone than jests. + </p> + <p> + “There is some mistake,” said Rodin, “in what you have + done me the honor to tell me, my dear young lady. I have never in my life + spoken of the sentiments, however worthy and respectable, that you may + entertain for Prince Djalma—” + </p> + <p> + “That is true,” replied Adrienne; “with scrupulous and + exquisite discretion, whenever you spoke to me of the deep love felt by + Prince Djalma, you carried your reserve and delicacy so far as to inform + me that it was not I whom he loved.” + </p> + <p> + “And the same scruple induced you to tell the prince that Mdlle. de + Cardoville loved some one passionately—but that he was not the + person,” added the count. + </p> + <p> + “Sir,” answered Rodin, dryly, “I need hardly tell you + that I have no desire to mix myself up with amorous intrigues.” + </p> + <p> + “Come! this is either pride or modesty,” said the count, + insolently. “For your own interest, pray do not advance such things; + for, if we took you at your word, and it became known, it might injure + some of the nice little trades that you carry on.” + </p> + <p> + “There is one at least,” said Rodin, drawing himself up as + proudly as M. de Montbron, “whose rude apprenticeship I shall owe to + you. It is the wearisome one of listening to your discourse.” + </p> + <p> + “I tell you what, my good sir!” replied the count, + disdainfully: “you force me to remind you that there are more ways + than one of chastising impudent rogues.” + </p> + <p> + “My dear count!” said Adrienne to M. de Montbron, with an air + of reproach. + </p> + <p> + With perfect coolness, Rodin replied: “I do not exactly see, sir, + first, what courage is shown by threatening a poor old man like myself, + and, secondly—” + </p> + <p> + “M. Rodin,” said the count, interrupting the Jesuit, “first, + a poor old man like you, who does evil under the shelter of the age he + dishonors, is both cowardly and wicked, and deserves a double + chastisement; secondly, with regard to this question of age, I am not + aware that gamekeepers and policemen bow down respectfully to the gray + coats of old wolves, and the gray hairs of old thieves. What do you think, + my good sir?” + </p> + <p> + Still impassible, Rodin raised his flabby eyelids, fixed for hardly a + second his little reptile eye upon the count, and darted at him one of his + rapid, cold, and piercing glances—and then the livid eyelid again + covered the dull eye of that corpse-like face. + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:65%;"> + <img src="images/20559m.jpg" alt="20559m” width=" /><br /> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/20559.jpg"><i>Original</i></a> + </h5> + <p> + “Not having the disadvantage of being an old wolf, and still less an + old thief,” said Rodin, quietly, “you will permit me, sir, to + take no account of the pursuit of hunters and police. As for the + reproaches made me, I have a very simple method of answering—I do + not say of justifying myself—I never justify myself—” + </p> + <p> + “You don’t say!” said the count. + </p> + <p> + “Never,” resumed Rodin coolly; “my acts are sufficient + for that. I will then simply answer that seeing the deep, violent, almost + fearful impression made by this lady on the prince—” + </p> + <p> + “Let this assurance which you give me of the prince’s love,” + said Adrienne interrupting Rodin with an enchanting smile, “absolve + you of all the evil you wished to do me. The sight of our happiness be + your only punishment!” + </p> + <p> + “It may be that I need neither absolution nor punishment, for, as I + have already had the honor to observe to the count, my dear young lady, + the future will justify my acts. Yes; it was my duty to tell the prince + that you loved another than himself, and to tell you that he loved another + than yourself—all in your mutual interest. That my attachment for + you may have misled me, is possible—I am not infallible; but, after + my past conduct towards you, my dear young lady, I have, perhaps, some + right to be astonished at seeing myself thus treated. This is not a + complaint. If I never justify myself, I never complain either.” + </p> + <p> + “Now really, there is something heroic in all this, my good sir,” + said the count. “You do not condescend to complain or justify + yourself, with regard to the evil you have done.” + </p> + <p> + “The evil I have done?” said Rodin, looking fixedly at the + count. “Are we playing at enigmas?” + </p> + <p> + “What, sir!” cried the count, with indignation: “is it + nothing, by your falsehoods, to have plunged the prince into so frightful + a state of despair, that he has twice attempted his life? Is it nothing, + by similar falsehoods, to have induced this lady to believe so cruel and + complete an error, that but for the resolution I have to-day taken, it + might have led to the most fatal consequences?” + </p> + <p> + “And will you do me the honor to tell me, sir, what interest I could + have in all this despair and error, admitting even that I had wished to + produce them?” + </p> + <p> + “Some great interest no doubt,” said the count, bluntly; + “the more dangerous that it is concealed. You are one of those, I + see, to whom the woes of others are pleasure and profit.” + </p> + <p> + “That is really too much, sir,” said Rodin, bowing; “I + should be quite contented with the profit.” + </p> + <p> + “Your impudent coolness will not deceive me; this is a serious + matter,” said the count. “It is impossible that so perfidious + a piece of roguery can be an isolated act. Who knows but this may still be + one of the fruits of Madame de Saint-Dizier’s hatred for Mdlle. de + Cardoville?” + </p> + <p> + Adrienne had listened to the preceding discussion with deep attention. + Suddenly she started, as if struck by a sudden revelation. + </p> + <p> + After a moment’s silence, she said to Rodin, without anger, without + bitterness, but with an expression of gentle and serene calmness: “We + are told, sir, that happy love works miracles. I should be tempted to + believe it; for, after some minutes’ reflection, and when I recall + certain circumstances, your conduct appears to me in quite a new light.” + </p> + <p> + “And what may this new perspective be, my dear young lady?” + </p> + <p> + “That you may see it from my point of view, sir, allow me to remind + you of a few facts. That sewing-girl was generously devoted to me; she had + given me unquestionable proofs of her attachment. Her mind was equal to + her noble heart; but she had an invincible dislike to you. All on a sudden + she disappears mysteriously from my house, and you do your best to cast + upon her odious suspicions. M. de Montbron has a paternal affection for + me; but, as I must confess, little sympathy for you; and you have always + tried to produce a coldness between us. Finally, Prince Djalma has a deep + affection for me, and you employ the most perfidious treachery to kill + that sentiment within him. For what end do you act thus? I do not know; + but certainly with some hostile design.” + </p> + <p> + “It appears to me, madame,” said Rodin, severely, “that + you have forgotten services performed.” + </p> + <p> + “I do not deny, sir, that you took me from the house of Dr. + Baleinier; but, a few days sooner or later, I must infallibly have been + released by M. de Montbron.” + </p> + <p> + “You are right, my dear child,” said the count; “it may + be that your enemies wished to claim the merit of what must necessarily + have happened through the exertions of your friends.” + </p> + <p> + “You are drowning, and I save you—it is all a mistake to feel + grateful,” said Rodin, bitterly; “some one else would no doubt + have saved you a little later.” + </p> + <p> + “The comparison is wanting in exactness,” said Adrienne, with + a smile; “a lunatic asylum is not a river, and though, from what I + see, I think you quite capable of diving, you have had no occasion to swim + on this occasion. You merely opened a door for me, which would have opened + of itself a little later.” + </p> + <p> + “Very good, my dear child!” said the count, laughing heartily + at Adrienne’s reply. + </p> + <p> + “I know, sir, that your care did not extend to me only. The + daughters of Marshal Simon were brought back by you; but we may imagine + that the claim of the Duke de Ligny to the possession of his daughters + would not have been in vain. You returned to an old soldier his imperial + cross, which he held to be a sacred relic; it is a very touching incident. + Finally, you unmasked the Abbe d’Aigrigny and Dr. Baleinier: but I + had already made up my mind to unmask then. However, all this proves that + you are a very clever man—” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, madame!” said Rodin, humbly. + </p> + <p> + “Full of resources and invention—” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, madame!” + </p> + <p> + “It is not my fault if, in our long interview at Dr. Baleinier’s, + you betrayed that superiority of mind which struck me so forcibly, and + which seems to embarrass you so much at present. What would you have, sir?—great + minds like yours find it difficult to maintain their incognito. Yet, as by + different ways—oh! very different,” added the young lady, + maliciously, “we are tending to the same end (still keeping in view + our conversation at Dr. Baleinier’s), I wish, for the sake of our + future communion, as you call it, to give you a piece of advice, and speak + frankly to you.” + </p> + <p> + Rodin had listened to Mdlle. de Cardoville with apparent impassibility, + holding his hat under his arm, and twirling his thumbs, whilst his hands + were crossed upon his waistcoat. The only external mark of the intense + agitation into which he was thrown by the calm words of Adrienne, was that + the livid eyelids of the Jesuit, which had been hypocritically closed, + became gradually red, as the blood flowed into them. Nevertheless, he + answered Mdlle. de Cardoville in a firm voice, and with a low bow: “Good + advice and frankness are always excellent things.” + </p> + <p> + “You see, sir,” resumed Adrienne, with some excitement, + “happy love bestows such penetration, such energy, such courage, as + enables one to laugh at perils, to detect stratagems, and to defy hatred. + Believe me, the divine light which surrounds two loving hearts will be + sufficient to disperse all darkness, and reveal every snare. You see, in + India—excuse my weakness, but I like to talk of India,” added + the young girl, with a smile of indescribable grace and meaning—“in + India, when travellers sleep at night, they kindle great fires round their + ajoupa (excuse this touch of local coloring), and far as extends the + luminous circle, it puts to flight by its mere brilliancy, all the impure + and venomous reptiles that shun the day and live only in darkness.” + </p> + <p> + “The meaning of this comparison has quite escaped me,” said + Rodin, continuing to twirl his thumbs, and half raising his eyelids, which + were getting redder and redder. + </p> + <p> + “I will speak more plainly,” said Adrienne, with a smile. + “Suppose, sir, that the last is a service which you have rendered me + and the prince—for you only proceed by way of services—that, I + acknowledge, is novel and ingenious.” + </p> + <p> + “Bravo, my dear child!” said the count, joyfully. “The + execution will be complete.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! this is meant for an execution?” said Rodin, still + impassible. + </p> + <p> + “No, sir,” answered Adrienne, with a smile; “it is a + simple conversation between a poor young girl and an old philosopher, the + friend of humanity. Suppose, then, that these frequent services that you + have rendered to me and mine have suddenly opened my eyes; or, rather,” + added the young girl, in a serious tone, “suppose that heaven, who + gives to the mother the instinct to defend her child, has given me, along + with happiness, the instinct to preserve my happiness, and that a vague + presentiment, by throwing light on a thousand circumstances until now + obscure, has suddenly revealed to me that, instead of being the friend, + you are perhaps, the most dangerous enemy of myself and family.” + </p> + <p> + “So we pass from the execution to suppositions,” said Rodin, + still immovable. + </p> + <p> + “And from suppositions, sir, if you must have it, to certainty,” + resumed Adrienne, with dignified firmness; “yes, now I believe that + I was for awhile your dupe, and I tell you, without hate, without anger, + but with regret—that it is painful to see a man of your sense and + intelligence stoop to such machinations, and, after having recourse to so + many diabolical manoeuvres, finish at last by being ridiculous; for, + believe me, there is nothing more ridiculous for a man like you, than to + be vanquished by a young girl, who has no weapon, no defence, no + instructor, but her love. In a word, sir, I look upon you from to-day as + an implacable and dangerous enemy; for I half perceive your aim, without + guessing by what means you will seek to accomplish it, No doubt your + future means will be worthy of the past. Well! in spite of all this, I do + not fear you. From tomorrow, my family will be informed of everything, and + an active, intelligent, resolute union will keep us all upon our guard, + for it doubtless concerns this enormous inheritance, of which they wish to + deprive us. Now, what connection can there be between the wrongs I + reproach you with and the pecuniary end proposed? I do not at all know—but + you have told me yourself that our enemies are so dangerously skillful, + and their craft so far-reaching, that we must expect all, be prepared for + all. I will remember the lesson. I have promised you frankness, sir, and + now I suppose you have it.” + </p> + <p> + “It would be an imprudent frankness if I were your enemy,” + said Rodin, still impassible; “but you also promised me some advice, + my dear young lady.” + </p> + <p> + “My advice will be short; do not attempt to continue the struggle, + because, you see, there is something stronger than you and yours—it + is a woman’s resolve, defending her happiness.” + </p> + <p> + Adrienne pronounced these last words with so sovereign a confidence; her + beautiful countenance shone, as is it were, with such intrepid joy, that + Rodin, notwithstanding his phlegmatic audacity, was for a moment + frightened. Yet he did not appear in the least disconcerted; and, after a + moment’s silence, he resumed, with an air of almost contemptuous + compassion: “My dear young lady, we may perhaps never meet again; it + is probable. Only remember one thing, which I now repeat to you: I never + justify myself. The future will provide for that. Notwithstanding which, + my dear young lady, I am your humble servant;” and he made her a low + bow. + </p> + <p> + “Count, I beg to salute you most respectfully,” he added, + bowing still more humbly to M. de Montbron; and he went out. + </p> + <p> + Hardly had Rodin left the room than Adrienne ran to her desk, and writing + a few hasty lines, sealed the note, and said to M. de Montbron: “I + shall not see the prince before to-morrow—as much from superstition + of the heart as because it is necessary for my plans that this interview + should be attended with some little solemnity. You shall know all; but I + write to him on the instant, for, with an enemy like M. Rodin, one must be + prepared for all.” + </p> + <p> + “You are right, my dear child; quick! the letter.” Adrienne + gave it to him. + </p> + <p> + “I tell him enough,” said she, “to calm his grief; and + not enough to deprive me of the delicious happiness of the surprise I + reserve for to morrow.” + </p> + <p> + “All this has as much sense as heart in it: I will hasten to the + prince’s abode, to deliver your letter. I shall not see him, for I + could not answer for myself. But come! our proposed drive, our evening’s + amusement, are still to hold good.” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly. I have more need than ever to divert my thoughts till to + morrow. I feel, too, that the fresh air will do me good, for this + interview with M. Rodin has warmed me a little.” + </p> + <p> + “The old wretch! but we will talk further of him. I will hasten to + the prince’s and return with Madame de Morinval, to fetch you to the + Champs Elysees.” + </p> + <p> + The Count de Montbron withdrew precipitately, as joyful at his departure + as he had been sad on his arrival. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0116" id="link2HCH0116"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XI. THE CHAMPS-ELYSEES + </h2> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">I</span>t was about two + hours after the interview of Rodin with Mdlle. de Cardoville. Numerous + loungers, attracted to the Champs-Elysees by the serenity of a fine spring + day (it was towards the end of the month of March) stopped to admire a + very handsome equipage. A bright-blue open carriage, with white-and-blue + wheels, drawn by four superb horses, of cream color, with black manes, and + harness glittering with silver ornaments, mounted by two boy postilions of + equal size, with black velvet caps, light-blue cassimere jackets with + white collars, buckskin breeches, and top-boots; two tall, powdered + footmen, also in light-blue livery, with white collars and facings, being + seated in the rumble behind. + </p> + <p> + No equipage could have been turned out in better style. The horses, full + of blood, spirit, and vigor, were skillfully managed by the postilions, + and stepped with singular regularity, gracefully keeping time in their + movements, champing their bits covered with foam, and ever and anon + shaking their cockades of blue and white silk, with long floating ends, + and a bright rose blooming in the midst. + </p> + <p> + A man on horseback, dressed with elegant simplicity, keeping at the other + side of the avenue, contemplated with proud satisfaction this equipage + which he had, as it were, created. It was M. de Bonneville—Adrienne’s + equerry, as M. de Montbron called him—for the carriage belonged to + that young lady. A change had taken place in the plan for this magic day’s + amusement. M. de Montbron had not been able to deliver Mdlle. de + Cardoville’s note to Prince Djalma. Faringhea had told him that the + prince had gone that morning into the country with Marshal Simon, and + would not be back before evening. The letter should be given him on his + arrival. Completely satisfied as to Djalma, knowing that he could find + these few lines, which, without informing him of the happiness that + awaited him, would at least give him some idea of it, Adrienne had + followed the advice of M. de Montbron, and gone to the drive in her own + carriage, to show all the world that she had quite made up her mind, in + spite of the perfidious reports circulated by the Princess de Saint + Dizier, to keep to her resolution of living by herself in her own way. + Adrienne wore a small white bonnet, with a fall of blonde, which well + became her rosy face and golden hair; her high dress of garnet-colored + velvet was almost hidden beneath a large green cashmere shawl. The young + Marchioness de Morinval, who was also very pretty and elegant, was seated + at her right. M. de Montbron occupied the front seat of the carriage. + </p> + <p> + Those who know the Parisian world, or rather, that imperceptible fraction + of the world of Paris which goes every fine, sunny day to the Champs + Elysees, to see and be seen, will understand that the presence of Mdlle. + de Cardoville on that brilliant promenade was an extraordinary and + interesting event. + </p> + <p> + The world (as it is called) could hardly believe its eyes, on seeing this + lady of eighteen, possessed of princely wealth, and belonging to the + highest nobility, thus prove to every one, by this appearance in public, + that she was living completely free and independent, contrary to all + custom and received notions of propriety. This kind of emancipation + appeared something monstrous, and people were almost astonished that the + graceful and dignified bearing of the young lady should belie so + completely the calumnies circulated by Madame de Saint-Dizier and her + friends, with regard to the pretended madness of her niece. Many beaux, + profiting by their acquaintance with the Marchioness de Morinval or M. de + Montbron, came by turns to pay their respects, and rode for a few minutes + by the side of the carriage, so as to have an opportunity of seeing, + admiring, and perhaps hearing, Mdlle. de Cardoville; she surpassed their + expectations, by talking with her usual grace and spirit. Then surprise + and enthusiasm knew no bounds. What had at first been blamed as an almost + insane caprice, was now voted a charming originality, and it only depended + on Mdlle. de Cardoville herself, to be declared from that day the queen of + elegance and fashion. The young lady understood very well the impression + she had made; she felt proud and happy, for she thought of Djalma; when + she compared him to all these men of fashion, her happiness was the more + increased. And, verily, these young men, most of whom had never quitted + Paris, or had ventured at most as far as Naples or Baden, looked + insignificant enough by the side of Djalma, who, at his age, had so many + times commanded and combated in bloody wars, and whose reputation far + courage and generosity, mentioned by travellers with admiration, had + already reached from India to Paris. And then, how could these charming + exquisites, with their small hats, their scanty frock-coats, and their + huge cravats, compare with the Indian prince, whose graceful and manly + beauty was still heightened by the splendor of a costume, at once so rich + and so picturesque? + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:65%;"> + <img src="images/20567m.jpg" alt="20567m” width=" /><br /> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/20567.jpg"><i>Original</i></a> + </h5> + <p> + On this happy day, all was joy and love for Adrienne. The sun, setting in + a splendidly serene sky, flooded the promenade with its golden light. The + air was warm. Carriages and horsemen passed and repassed in rapid + succession; a light breeze played with the scarfs of the women, and the + plumes in their bonnets; all around was noise, movement, sunshine. + Adrienne, leaning back in her carriage, amused herself with watching this + busy scene, sparkling with Parisian luxury; but, in the vortex of this + brilliant chaos, she saw in thought the mild, melancholy countenance of + Djalma—when suddenly something fell into her lap, and she started. + It was a bunch of half-faded violets. At the same instant she heard a + child’s voice following the carriage, and saying: “For the + love of heaven, my good lady, one little sou!” Adrienne turned her + head, and saw a poor little girl, pale and wan, with mild, sorrowful + features, scarcely covered with rags, holding out her hand, and raising + her eyes in supplication. Though the striking contrast of extreme misery, + side by side with extreme luxury, is so common, that it no longer excites + attention, Adrienne was deeply affected by it. She thought of Mother + Bunch, now, perhaps, the victim of frightful destitution. + </p> + <p> + “Ah! at least,” thought the young lady, “let not this + day be one of happiness for me alone!” + </p> + <p> + She leaned from the carriage-window, and said to the poor child: “Have + you a mother, my dear?” + </p> + <p> + “No, my lady, I have neither father nor mother.” + </p> + <p> + “Who takes care of you?” + </p> + <p> + “No one, my lady. They give me nosegays to sell, and I must bring + home money—or they beat me.” + </p> + <p> + “Poor little thing!” + </p> + <p> + “A sou, my good lady—a sou, for the love of heaven!” + said the child, continuing to follow the carriage, which was then moving + slowly. + </p> + <p> + “My dear count,” said Adrienne, smiling, and addressing M. de + Montbron, “you are, unfortunately, no novice at an elopement. Please + to stretch forth your arms, take up that child with both hands, and lift + her into the carriage. We can hide her between Lady de Morinval and + myself; and we can drive away before any one perceives this audacious + abduction.” + </p> + <p> + “What!” said the count, in surprise. “You wish—” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; I beg you to do it.” + </p> + <p> + “What a folly!” + </p> + <p> + “Yesterday, you might, perhaps, have treated this caprice as a + folly; but to-day,” said Adrienne, laying great stress upon the + word, and glancing at M. de Montbron with a significant air, “to-day, + you should understand that it is almost a duty.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I understand you, good and noble heart!” said the count, + with emotion; while Lady de Morinval, who knew nothing of Mdlle. de + Cardoville’s love for Djalma, looked with as much surprise as + curiosity at the count and the young lady. + </p> + <p> + M. de Montbron, leaning from the carriage, stretched out his arms towards + the child, and said to her: “Give me your hands, little girl.” + </p> + <p> + Though much astonished, the child obeyed mechanically, and held out both + her little arms; then the count took her by the wrists, and lifted her + lightly from the ground, which he did the more easily, as the carnage was + very low, and its progress by no means rapid. More stupefied than + frightened, the child said not a word. Adrienne and Lady de Morinval made + room for her to crouch down between them, and the little girl was soon + hidden beneath the shawls of the two young women. All this was executed so + quickly, that it was hardly perceived by a few persons passing in the + side-avenues. + </p> + <p> + “Now, my dear count,” said Adrienne, radiant with pleasure, + “let us make off at once with our prey.” + </p> + <p> + M. de Montbron half rose, and called to the postilions. “Home!” + and the four horses started at once into a rapid and regular trot. + </p> + <p> + “This day of happiness now seems consecrated, and my luxury is + excused,” thought Adrienne; “till I can again meet with that + poor Mother Bunch, and from this day I will make every exertion to find + her out, her place will at least not be quite empty.” + </p> + <p> + There are often strange coincidences in life. At the moment when this + thought of the hunchback crossed the mind of Adrienne, a crowd had + collected in one of the side-avenues, and other persons soon ran to join + the group. + </p> + <p> + “Look, uncle!” said Lady de Morinval; “how many people + are assembled yonder. What can it be? Shall we stop, and send to inquire?” + </p> + <p> + “I am sorry, my dear, but your curiosity cannot be satisfied,” + said the count, drawing out his watch; “it will soon be six o’clock, + and the exhibition of the wild beasts begin at eight. We shall only just + have time to go home and dine. Is not that your opinion, my dear child?” + said he to Adrienne. + </p> + <p> + “And yours, Julia?” said Mdlle. de Cardoville to the + marchioness. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, certainly!” answered her friend. + </p> + <p> + “I am the less inclined to delay,” resumed the count, “as + when I have taken you to the Porte-Saint-Martin, I shall be obliged to go + for half an-hour to my club, to ballot for Lord Campbell, whom I propose.” + </p> + <p> + “Then, Adrienne and I will be left alone at the play, uncle?” + </p> + <p> + “Your husband will go with you, I suppose.” + </p> + <p> + “True, dear uncle; but do not quite leave us, because of that.” + </p> + <p> + “Be sure I shall not: for I am curious as you are to see these + terrible animals, and the famous Morok, the incomparable lion-tamer.” + </p> + <p> + A few minutes after, Mdlle. de Cardoville’s carriage had left the + Champs Elysees, carrying with it the little girl, and directing its course + towards the Rue d’Anjou. As the brilliant equipage disappeared from + the scene, the crowd, of which we before have spoken, greatly increased + about one of the large trees in the Champs-Elysees, and expressions of + pity were heard here and there amongst the groups. A lounger approached a + young man on the skirts of the crowd, and said to him: “What is the + matter, sir?” + </p> + <p> + “I hear it is a poor young girl, a hunchback, that has fallen from + exhaustion.” + </p> + <p> + “A hunchback! is that all? There will always be enough hunchbacks,” + said the lounger, brutally, with a coarse laugh. + </p> + <p> + “Hunchback or not, if she dies of hunger,” answered the young + man, scarcely able to restrain his indignation, “it will be no less + sad—and there is really nothing to laugh at, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “Die of hunger! pooh!” said the lounger, shrugging his + shoulders. “It is only lazy scoundrels, that will not work, who die + of hunger. And it serves them right.” + </p> + <p> + “I wager, sir, there is one death you will never die of,” + cried the young man, incensed at the cruel insolence of the lounger. + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean?” answered the other, haughtily. + </p> + <p> + “I mean, sir, that your heart is not likely to kill you.” + </p> + <p> + “Sir!” cried the lounger in an angry tone. + </p> + <p> + “Well! what, sir?” replied the young man, looking full in his + face. + </p> + <p> + “Nothing,” said the lounger, turning abruptly on his heel, and + grumbling as he sauntered towards an orange-colored cabriolet, on which + was emblazoned an enormous coat-of-arms, surmounted by a baron’s + crest. A servant in green livery, ridiculously laced with gold, was + standing beside the horse, and did not perceive his master. + </p> + <p> + “Are you catching flies, fool?” said the latter, pushing him + with his cane. The servant turned round in confusion. “Sir,” + said he. + </p> + <p> + “Will you never learn to call me Monsieur le Baron, rascal?” + cried his master, in a rage—“Open the door directly!” + </p> + <p> + The lounger was Baron Tripeaud, the manufacturing baron the stock-jobber. + The poor hunchback was Mother Bunch, who had, indeed fallen with hunger + and fatigue, whilst on her way to Mdlle. de Cardoville’s. The + unfortunate creature had found courage to brave the shame of the ridicule + she so much feared, by returning to that house from which she was a + voluntary exile; but this time, it was not for herself, but for her sister + Cephyse—the Bacchanal Queen, who had returned to Paris the previous + day, and whom Mother Bunch now sought, through the means of Adrienne, to + rescue from a most dreadful fate. + </p> + <p> + Two hours after these different scenes, an enormous crowd pressed round + the doors of the Porte-Saint-Martin, to witness the exercises of Morok, + who was about to perform a mock combat with the famous black panther of + Java, named Death. Adrienne, accompanied by Lord and Lady de Morinval, now + stepped from a carriage at the entrance of the theatre. They were to be + joined in the course of the evening by M. de Montbron, whom they had + dropped, in passing, at his club. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0117" id="link2HCH0117"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XII. BEHIND THE SCENES. + </h2> + <div class="fig" style="width:65%;"> + <img src="images/20575m.jpg" alt="20575m” width=" /><br /> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/20575.jpg"><i>Original</i></a> + </h5> + <p> + The large theatre of the Porte-Saint-Martin was crowded by an impatient + multitude. All Paris had hurried with eager and burning curiosity to Morok’s + exhibition. It is quite unnecessary to say that the lion-tamer had + completely abandoned his small taste in religious baubles, which he had so + successfully carried on at the White Falcon Inn at Leipsic. There were, + moreover, numerous tokens by which the surprising effects of Morok’s + sudden conversion had been blazoned in the most extraordinary pictures: + the antiquated baubles in which he had formerly dealt would have found no + sale in Paris. Morok had nearly finished dressing himself, in one of the + actor’s rooms, which had been lent to him. Over a coat of mail, with + cuishes and brassarts, he wore an ample pair of red trousers, fastened + round his ankles by broad rings of gilt brass. His long caftan of black + cloth, embroidered with scarlet and gold, was bound round his waist and + wrist by other large rings of gilt metal. This sombre costume imparted to + him an aspect still more ferocious. His thick and red-haired beard fell in + large quantities down to his chest, and a long piece of white muslin was + folded round his red head. A devout missionary in Germany and an actor in + Paris, Morok knew as well as his employers, the Jesuits, how to + accommodate himself to circumstances. + </p> + <p> + Seated in one corner of the room, and contemplating with a sort of stupid + admiration, was Jacques Rennepont, better known as “Sleepinbuff” + (from the likelihood that he would end his days in rags, or his present + antipathy to great care in dress). Since the day Hardy’s factory had + been destroyed by fire, Jacques had not quitted Morok, passing the nights + in excesses, which had no baneful effects on the iron constitution of the + lion-tamer. On the other’s features, on the contrary, a great + alteration was perceptible; his hollow cheeks, marble pallor, his eyes, by + turns dull and heavy, or gleaming with lurid fire, betrayed the ravages of + debauchery, his parched lips were almost constantly curled by a bitter and + sardonic smile. His spirit, once gay and sanguine, still struggled against + the besotting influence of habitual intoxication. Unfitted for labor, no + longer able to forego gross pleasures, Jacques sought to drown in wine a + few virtuous impulses which he still possessed, and had sunk so low as to + accept without shame the large dole of sensual gratification proffered him + by Morok, who paid all the expenses of their orgies, but never gave him + money, in order that he might be completely dependent on him. After gazing + at Morok for some time in amazement, Jacques said to him, in a familiar + tone: “Well, yours is a famous trade; you may boast that, at this + moment, there are not two men like you in the whole world That’s + flattering. It’s a pity you don’t stick to this fine trade.” + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, how is the conspiracy going on, in whose honor you make me + keep it up all day and all night?” + </p> + <p> + “It is working, but the time is not yet come; that is why I wish to + have you always at hand, till the great day. Do you complain?” + </p> + <p> + “Hang it, no!” said Jacques. “What could I do? Burnt up + with brandy as I am, if I wanted to work, I’ve no longer the + strength to do so. I have not, like you, a head of marble, and a body of + iron; but as for fuddling myself with gunpowder, instead of anything else, + that’ll do for me; I’m only fit for that work now—and + then, it will drive away thought.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh what kind?” + </p> + <p> + “You know that when I do think, I think only of one thing,” + said Jacques, gloomily. + </p> + <p> + “The Bacchanal queen?—still?” said Morok, in a + disdainful tone. + </p> + <p> + “Still! rather: when I shall think of her no longer, I shall be dead—or + stupefied. Fiend!” + </p> + <p> + “You were never better or more intelligent, you fool!” replied + Morok, fastening his turban. The conversation was here interrupted. Morok’s + aider entered hastily. + </p> + <p> + The gigantic form of this Hercules had increased in width. He was habited + like Alcides; his enormous limbs, furrowed with veins as thick as + whipcord, were covered with a close-fitting flesh-colored garment, to + which a pair of red drawers formed a strong contrast. + </p> + <p> + “Why do you rush in like a storm, Goliath?” said Morok. + </p> + <p> + “There’s a pretty storm in the house; they are beginning to + get impatient, and are calling out like madmen. But if that were all!” + </p> + <p> + “Well, what else?” + </p> + <p> + “Death will not be able to play this evening.” + </p> + <p> + Morok turned quickly around. He seemed uneasy. “Why so?” he + exclaimed. + </p> + <p> + “I have just seen her! she’s crouching at the bottom of her + cage; her ears lie so close to her head, she looks as if they had been cut + off. You know what that means.” + </p> + <p> + “Is that all?” said Morok, turning to the glass to complete + his head dress. + </p> + <p> + “It’s quite enough; she’s in one of her tearing fits. + Since that night in Germany, when she ripped up that old hack of a white + horse, I’ve not seen her look so savage! her eyes shine like burning + candles.” + </p> + <p> + “Then she must have her fine collar on,” said Morok, quietly. + </p> + <p> + “Her fine collar?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; her spring-collar.” + </p> + <p> + “And I must be lady’s-maid,” said the giant. “A + nice toilet to attend to!” + </p> + <p> + “Hold your tongue!” + </p> + <p> + “That’s not all—” continued Goliath, hesitating. + </p> + <p> + “What more?” + </p> + <p> + “I might as well tell you at once.” + </p> + <p> + “Will you speak?” + </p> + <p> + “Well! he is here.” + </p> + <p> + “Who, you stupid brute?” + </p> + <p> + “The Englishman!” + </p> + <p> + Morok started; his arms fell powerless by his side. Jacques was struck + with the lion-tamer’s paleness and troubled countenance. + </p> + <p> + “The Englishman!—you have seen him?” cried Morok, + addressing Goliath. “You are quite sure?” + </p> + <p> + “Quite sure. I was looking through the peep-hole in the curtain; I + saw him in one of the stage-boxes—he wishes to see things close; he’s + easy to recognize, with his pointed forehead, big nose, and goggle eyes.” + </p> + <p> + Morok shuddered again; usually fierce and unmoved, he appeared to be more + and more agitated, and so alarmed, that Jacques said to him: “Who is + this Englishman?” + </p> + <p> + “He has followed me from Strasburg, where he fell in with me,” + said Morok, with visible dejection. “He travelled with his own + horses, by short stages, as I did; stopping where I stopped, so as never + to miss one of my exhibitions. But two days before I arrived at Paris, he + left me—I thought I was rid of him,” said Morok, with a sigh. + </p> + <p> + “Rid of him!—how you talk!” replied Jacques, surprised; + “such a good customer, such an admirer!” + </p> + <p> + “Aye!” said Morok, becoming more and more agitated; “this + wretch has wagered an enormous sum, that I will be devoured in his + presence, during one of my performances: he hopes to win his wager—that + is why he follows me about.” + </p> + <p> + Sleepinbuff found the John Bull’s idea so amusingly eccentric, that, + for the first time since a very long period, he burst into a peal of + hearty laughter. Morok, pale with rage, rushed towards him with so + menacing an air, that Goliath was obliged to interpose. + </p> + <p> + “Come, come,” said Jacques, “don’t be angry; if it + is serious, I will not laugh any more.” + </p> + <p> + Morok was appeased, and said to Sleepinbuff in a hoarse voice: “Do + you think me a coward?” + </p> + <p> + “No, by heaven!” + </p> + <p> + “Well! And yet this Englishman, with his grotesque face, frightens + me more than any tiger or my panther!” + </p> + <p> + “You say so, and I believe it,” replied Jacques; “but I + cannot understand why the presence of this man should alarm you.” + </p> + <p> + “But consider, you dull knave!” cried Morok, “that, + obliged to watch incessantly the least movement of the ferocious beast, + whom I keep in subjection by my action and my looks, there is something + terrible in knowing that two eyes are there—always there—fixed—waiting + till the least absence of mind shall expose me to be torn in pieces by the + animals.” + </p> + <p> + “Now, I understand,” said Jacques, shuddering in his turn. + “It is terrible.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; for once there, though I may not see this cursed Englishman, I + fancy I have his two round eyes, fixed and wide open, always before me. My + tiger Cain once nearly mutilated my arm, when my attention was drawn away + by this Englishman, whom the devil take! Blood and thunder!” cried + Morok: “this man will be fatal to me.” And Morok paced the + room in great agitation. + </p> + <p> + “Besides, Death lays her ears close to her skull,” said + Goliath, brutally. “If you persist—mind, I tell you—the + Englishman will win his wager this evening.” + </p> + <p> + “Go away, you brute!—don’t vex my head with your + confounded predictions,” cried Morok: “go and prepare Death’s + collar.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, every one to his taste; you wish the panther to taste you,” + said the giant, stalking heavily away, after this joke. + </p> + <p> + “But if you feel these fears,” said Jacques, “why do you + not say that the panther is ill?” + </p> + <p> + Morok shrugged his shoulders, and replied with a sort of feverish + ferocity, “Have you ever heard of the fierce pleasure of the + gamester, who stakes his honor, his life, upon a card? Well! I too—in + these daily exhibitions where my life is at stake—find a wild, + fierce pleasure in braving death, before a crowded assembly, shuddering + and terrified at my audacity. Yes, even in the fear with which this + Englishman inspires me, I find, in spite of myself, a terrible excitement, + which I abhor, and which yet subjugates me.” + </p> + <p> + At this moment, the stage-manager entered the room, and interrupted the + beast-tamer. “May we give the signal, M. Morok?” said the + stage-manager. “The overture will not last above ten minutes.” + </p> + <p> + “I am ready,” said Morok. + </p> + <p> + “The police-inspector has just now given orders, that the double + chain of the panther, and the iron ring riveted to the floor of the stage, + at the end of the cavern in the foreground, shall be again examined; and + everything has been reported quite secure.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes—secure—except for me,” murmured the + beast-tamer. + </p> + <p> + “So, M. Morok, the signal may be given?” + </p> + <p> + “The signal may—be given,” replied Morok. And the + manager went out. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0118" id="link2HCH0118"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIII. UP WITH THE CURTAIN. + </h2> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>he usual bell + sounded with solemnity behind the scenes the overture began, and, to say + the truth, but little attention was paid to it. The interior of the + theatre offered a very animated view. With the exception of two + stage-boxes even with the dress circle, one to the left, the other to the + right of the audience, every seat was occupied. A great number of very + fashionable ladies, attracted, as is always the case, by the strange + wildness of the spectacle, filled the boxes. The stalls were crowded by + most of the young men who; in the morning, had walked their horses on the + Champs-Elysees. The observations which passed from one stall to another, + will give some idea of their conversation. + </p> + <p> + “Do you know, my dear boy, there would not be so crowded or + fashionable an audience to witness Racine’s Athalia?” + </p> + <p> + “Undoubtedly. What is the beggarly howling of an actor, compared to + the roaring of the lion?” + </p> + <p> + “I cannot understand how the authorities permit this Morok to fasten + his panther with a chain to an iron ring in the corner of the stage. If + the chain were to break?” + </p> + <p> + “Talking of broken chains—there’s little Mme. de + Blinville, who is no tigress. Do you see her in the second tier, opposite?” + </p> + <p> + “It becomes her very well to have broken, as you say, the marriage + chain; she looks very well this season.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! there is the beautiful Duchess de Saint-Prix; all the world is + here to-night—I don’t speak of ourselves.” + </p> + <p> + “It is a regular opera night—what a festive scene!” + </p> + <p> + “Well, after all, people do well to amuse themselves, perhaps it + will not be for long.” + </p> + <p> + “Why so?” + </p> + <p> + “Suppose the cholera were to come to Paris?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! nonsense!” + </p> + <p> + “Do you believe in the cholera?” + </p> + <p> + “To be sure I do! He’s coming from the North, with his + walking-stick under his arm.” + </p> + <p> + “The devil take him on the road! don’t let us see his green + visage here.” + </p> + <p> + “They say he’s at London.” + </p> + <p> + “A pleasant journey to him.” + </p> + <p> + “Come, let us talk of something else; it may be a weakness, if you + please, but I call this a dull subject.” + </p> + <p> + “I believe you.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! gentlemen—I am not mistaken—no—it is she!” + </p> + <p> + “Who, then?” + </p> + <p> + “Mdlle. de Cardoville! She is coming into the stage-box with + Morinval and his wife. It is a complete resuscitation: this morning on the + Champs-Elysees; in the evening here.” + </p> + <p> + “Faith, you are right! It is Mdlle. de Cardoville.” + </p> + <p> + “Good heaven! how lovely she is!” + </p> + <p> + “Lend me your eyeglass.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, what do you think of her?” + </p> + <p> + “Exquisite—dazzling.” + </p> + <p> + “And in addition to her beauty, an inexhaustible flow of wit, three + hundred thousand francs a year, high birth, eighteen years of age, and—free + as air.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, that is to say, that, provided it pleased her, I might be to + morrow—or even to-day—the happiest of men.” + </p> + <p> + “It is enough to turn one’s brain.” + </p> + <p> + “I am told that her mansion, Rue d’Anjou, is like an enchanted + palace; a great deal is said about a bath-room and bedroom, worthy of the + Arabian Nights.” + </p> + <p> + “And free as air—I come back to that.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! if I were in her place!” + </p> + <p> + “My levity would be quite shocking.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! gentlemen, what a happy man will he be who is loved first!” + </p> + <p> + “You think, then, that she will have many lovers?” + </p> + <p> + “Being as free as air—” + </p> + <p> + “All the boxes are full, except the stage-box opposite to that in + which Mdlle. de Cardoville is seated. Happy the occupiers of that box!” + </p> + <p> + “Did you see the English ambassador’s lady in the dress + circle?” + </p> + <p> + “And the Princess d’Alvimar—what an enormous bouquet!” + </p> + <p> + “I should like to know the name—of that nosegay.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh!—it’s Germigny.” + </p> + <p> + “How flattering for the lions and tigers, to attract so fashionable + an audience.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you notice, gentlemen, how all the women are eye-glassing Mdlle. + de Cardoville?” + </p> + <p> + “She makes a sensation.” + </p> + <p> + “She is right to show herself; they gave her out as mad.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! gentlemen, what a capital phiz!” + </p> + <p> + “Where—where?” + </p> + <p> + “There—in the omnibus-box beneath Mdlle. de Cardoville’s.” + </p> + <p> + “It’s a Nuremburg nutcracker.” + </p> + <p> + “An ourang-outang!” + </p> + <p> + “Did you ever see such round, staring eyes?” + </p> + <p> + “And the nose!” + </p> + <p> + “And the forehead!” + </p> + <p> + “It’s a caricature.” + </p> + <p> + “Order, order! the curtain rises.” + </p> + <p> + And, in fact, the curtain rose. Some explanation is necessary for the + clear understanding of what follows. In the lower stage-box, to the left + of the audience, were several persons, who had been referred to by the + young men in the stalls. The omnibus-box was occupied by the Englishman, + the eccentric and portentous bettor, whose presence inspired Morok with so + much dread. + </p> + <p> + It would require Hoffman’s rare and fantastic genius to describe + worthily that countenance, at once grotesque and frightful, as it stood + out from the dark background of the box. This Englishman was about fifty + years old; his forehead was quite bald, and of a conical shape; beneath + this forehead, surmounted by eyebrows like parenthesis marks, glittered + large, green eyes, remarkably round and staring, and set very close to a + hooked nose, extremely sharp and prominent; a chin like that on the old + fashioned nutcrackers was half-hidden in a broad and ample white cravat, + as stiffly-starched as the round-cornered shirt-collar, which nearly + touched his ears. The face was exceedingly thin and bony, and yet the + complexion was high-colored, approaching to purple, which made the bright + green of the pupils, and the white of the other part of the eyes, still + more conspicuous. The mouth, which was very wide, sometimes whistled + inaudibly the tune of a Scotch jig (always the same tune), sometimes was + slightly curled with a sardonic smite. The Englishman was dressed with + extreme care; his blue coat, with brass buttons, displayed his spotless + waistcoat, snowy, white as his ample cravat; his shirt was fastened with + two magnificent ruby studs, and his patrician hands were carefully kid + gloved. + </p> + <p> + To any one who knew the eccentric and cruel desire which attracted this + man to every representation, his grotesque face became almost terrific, + instead of exciting ridicule; and it was easy to understand the dread + experience by Morok at sight of those great, staring round eyes, which + appeared to watch for the death of the lion-tamer (what a horrible death!) + with unshaken confidence. Above the dark box of the Englishman, affording + a graceful contrast, were seated the Morinvals and Mdlle. de Cardoville. + The latter was placed nearest the stage. Her head was uncovered, and she + wore a dress of sky-blue China crepe, ornamented at the bosom with a + brooch of the finest Oriental pearls—nothing more; yet Adrienne, + thus attired, was charming. She held in her hand an enormous bouquet, + composed of the rarest flowers of India: the stephanotis and the gardenia + mingled the dead white of their blossoms with the purple hibiscus and Java + amaryllis. + </p> + <p> + Madame de Morinval, seated on the opposite side of the box, was dressed + with equal taste and simplicity; Morinval, a fair and very handsome young + man, of elegant appearance, was behind the two ladies. M. de Montbron was + expected to arrive every moment. The reader will please to recollect that + the stage-box to the right of the audience, opposite Adrienne’s, had + remained till then quite empty. The stage represented one of the gigantic + forests of India. In the background, tall exotic trees rose in spiral or + spreading forms, among rugged masses of perpendicular rocks, with here and + there glimpses of a tropical sky. The side-scenes formed tufts of trees, + interspersed with rocks; and at the side which was immediately beneath + Adrienne’s box appeared the irregular opening of a deep and gloomy + cavern, round which were heaped huge blocks of granite, as if thrown + together by some convulsion of nature. This scenery, full of a wild and + savage grandeur, was wonderfully “built up,” so as to make the + illusion as complete as possible; the footlights were lowered, and being + covered with a purple shade, threw over this landscape a subdued reddish + light, which increased the gloomy and startling effect of the whole. + Adrienne, leaning forward from the box, with cheeks slightly flushed, + sparkling eyes, and throbbing heart, sought to trace in this scene the + solitary forest described by the traveller who had eulogized Djalma’s + generosity and courage, when he threw himself upon a ferocious tigress to + save the life of a poor black slave. Chance coincided wonderfully indeed + with her recollections. Absorbed in the contemplation of the scenery and + the thoughts it awakened in her heart, she paid no attention to what was + passing in the house. And yet something calculated to excite curiosity was + taking place in the opposite stage-box. + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:65%;"> + <img src="images/20583m.jpg" alt="20583m” width=" /><br /> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/20583.jpg"><i>Original</i></a> + </h5> + <p> + The door of this box opened. A man about forty years of age, of a yellow + complexion, entered; he was clothed after the East Indian fashion, in a + long robe of orange silk, bound round the waist with a green sash, and he + wore a small white turban. He placed two chairs at the front of the box; + and, having glanced round the house for a moment, he started, his black + eyes sparkled, and he went out quickly. That man was Faringhea. His + apparition caused surprise and curiosity in the theatre; the majority of + the spectators not having, like Adrienne, a thousand reasons for being + absorbed in the contemplation of a picturesque set scene. The public + attention was still more excited when they saw the box which Faringhea had + just left, entered by a youth of rare beauty, also dressed Oriental + fashion, in a long robe of white Cashmere with flowing sleeves, with a + scarlet turban striped with gold on his head, and a sash to correspond, in + which was stuck a long dagger, glittering with precious stones. This young + man was Prince Djalma. For an instant he remained standing at the door, + and cast a look of indifference upon the immense theatre, crowded with + people; then, stepping forward with a majestic and tranquil air, the + prince seated himself negligently on one of the chairs, and, turning his + head in a few moments towards the entrance, appeared surprised at not + seeing some person whom he doubtless expected. This person appeared at + length; the boxkeeper had been assisting her to take off her cloak. She + was a charming, fair-haired girl, attired with more show than taste, in a + dress of white silk, with broad cherry-colored stripes, made ultra + fashionably low, and with short sleeves; a large bow of cherry-colored + ribbon was placed on each side of her light hair, and set off the + prettiest, sprightliest, most wilful little face in the world. + </p> + <p> + It was Rose-Pompon. Her pretty arms were partly covered by long white + gloves, and ridiculously loaded with bracelets: in her hand she carried an + enormous bouquet of roses. + </p> + <p> + Far from imitating the calm demeanor of Djalma, Rose-Pompon skipped into + the box, moved the chairs about noisily, and fidgeted on her seat for some + time, to display her fine dress; then, without being in the least + intimidated by the presence of the brilliant assembly, she, with a little + coquettish air, held her bouquet towards Djalma, that he might smell it, + and appeared finally to establish herself on her seat. Faringhea came in, + shut the door of the box, and seated himself behind the prince. Adrienne, + still completely absorbed in the contemplation of the Indian forest, and + in her own sweet thoughts, had not observed the newcomers. As she was + turning her head completely towards the stage, and Djalma could not, for + the moment, see even her profile, he, on his side, had not recognized + Mdlle. de Cardoville. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0119" id="link2HCH0119"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIV. DEATH. + </h2> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>he pantomime + opening, by which was introduced the combat of Morok with the black + panther, was so unmeaning, that the majority of the audience paid no + attention to it, reserving all their interest for the scene in which the + lion-tamer was to make his appearance. + </p> + <p> + This indifference of the public explains the curiosity excited in the + theatre by the arrival of Faringhea and Djalma—a curiosity which + expressed itself (as at this day, when uncommon foreigners appear in + public) by a slight murmur and general movement amongst the crowd. The + sprightly, pretty face of Rose-Pompon, always charming, in spite of her + singularly staring dress, in style so ridiculous for such a theatre, and + her light and familiar manner towards the handsome Indian who accompanied + her, increased and animated the general surprise; for, at this moment, + Rose-Pompon, yielding without reserve to a movement of teasing coquetry, + had held up, as we have already stated, her large bunch of roses to + Djalma. But the prince, at sight of the landscape which reminded him of + his country, instead of appearing sensible to this pretty, provocation, + remained for some minutes as in a dream, with his eyes fixed upon the + stage. Then Rose-Pompon began to beat time on the front of the box with + her bouquet, whilst the somewhat too visible movement of her pretty + shoulders showed that this devoted dancer was thinking of fast-life + dances, as the orchestra struck up a more lively strain. + </p> + <p> + Placed directly opposite the box in which Faringhea, Djalma, and Rose + Pompon had just taken their seats, Lady Morinval soon perceived the + arrival of these two personages, and particularly the eccentric coquetries + of Rose-Pompon. Immediately, the young marchioness, leaning over towards + Mdlle. de Cardoville, who was still absorbed in memories ineffable, said + to her, laughing: “My dear, the most amusing part of the performance + is not upon the stage. Look just opposite.” + </p> + <p> + “Just opposite?” repeated Adrienne, mechanically: and, turning + towards Lady Morinval with an air of surprise, she glanced in the + direction pointed out. + </p> + <p> + She looked—what did she see?—Djalma seated by the side of a + young woman, who was familiarly offering to his sense of smell the perfume + of her bouquet. Amazed, struck almost literally to the heart, as by an + electric shock, swift, sharp, and painful, Adrienne became deadly pale. + From instinct, she shut her eyes for a second, in order not to see—as + men try to ward off the dagger, which, having once dealt the blow, + threatens to strike again. Then suddenly, to this feeling of grief + succeeded a reflection, terrible both to her love and to her wounded + pride. + </p> + <p> + “Djalma is present with this woman, though he must have received my + letter,” she said to herself,—“wherein he was informed + of the happiness that awaited him.” + </p> + <p> + At the idea of so cruel an insult, a blush of shame and indignation + displaced Adrienne’s paleness, who overwhelmed by this sad reality, + said to herself: “Rodin did not deceive me.” + </p> + <p> + We abandon all idea of picturing the lightning-like rapidity of certain + emotions which in a moment may torture—may kill you in the space of + a minute. Thus Adrienne was precipitated from the most radiant happiness + to the lowest depths of an abyss of the most heart-rending grief, in less + than a second; for a second had hardly elapsed before she replied to Lady + Morinval: “What is there, then, so curious, opposite to us, my dear + Julia?” + </p> + <p> + This evasive question gave Adrienne time to recover her self-possession. + Fortunately, thanks to the thick folds of hair which almost entirely + concealed her cheeks, the rapid and sudden changes from pallor to blush + escaped the notice of Lady Morinval, who gayly replied: “What, my + dear, do you not perceive those East Indians, who have just entered the + box immediately opposite to ours? There, just before us!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I see them; but what then?” replied Adrienne, in a firm + tone. + </p> + <p> + “And don’t you observe anything remarkable?” said the + marchioness. + </p> + <p> + “Don’t be too hard, ladies,” laughingly interposed the + marquis; “we ought to allow the poor foreigners some little + indulgence. They are ignorant of our manners and customs; were it not for + that, they would never appear in the face of all Paris in such dubious + company.” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed,” said Adrienne, with a bitter smile, “their + simplicity is touching; we must pity them.” + </p> + <p> + “And, unfortunately, the girl is charming, spite of her low dress + and bare arms,” said the marchioness; “she cannot be more than + sixteen or seventeen at most. Look at her, my dear Adrienne; what a pity!” + </p> + <p> + “It is one of your charitable days, my dear Julia,” answered + Adrienne; “we are to pity the Indians, to pity this creature, and—pray, + whom else are we to pity?” + </p> + <p> + “We will not pity that handsome Indian, in his red-and-gold turban,” + said the marquis, laughing, “for, if this goes on, the girl with the + cherry colored ribbons will be giving him a kiss. See how she leans + towards her sultan.” + </p> + <p> + “They are very amusing,” said the marchioness, sharing the + hilarity of her husband, and looking at Rose-Pompom through her glass; + then she resumed, in about a minute, addressing herself to Adrienne: + “I am quite certain of one thing. Notwithstanding her giddy airs, + that girl is very fond of her Indian. I just saw a look that expresses a + great deal.” + </p> + <p> + “Why so much penetration, my dear Julia?” said Adrienne, + mildly; “what interest have we to read the heart of that girl?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, if she loves her sultan, she is quite in the right,” + said the marquis, looking through his opera-glass in turn; “for, in + my whole life, I never saw a more handsome fellow than that Indian. I can + only catch his side-face, but the profile is pure and fine as an antique + cameo. Do you not think so?” added the marquis, leaning towards + Adrienne. “Of course, it is only as a matter of art, that I permit + myself to ask you the question.” + </p> + <p> + “As a work of art,” answered Adrienne, “it is certainly + very fine.” + </p> + <p> + “But see!” said the marchioness; “how impertinent the + little creature is!—She is actually staring at us.” + </p> + <p> + “Well!” said the marquis; “and she is actually laying + her hand quite unceremoniously on her sultan’s shoulder, to make him + share, no doubt, in her admiration of you ladies.” + </p> + <p> + In fact, Djalma, until now occupied with the contemplation of the scene + which reminded him of his country, had remained insensible to the + enticements of Rose-Pompon, and had not yet perceived Adrienne. + </p> + <p> + “Well, now!” said Rose-Pompon, bustling herself about in front + of the box, and continuing to stare at Mdlle. de Cardoville, for it was + she, and not the marchioness, who now drew her attention; “that is + something quite out of the common way—a pretty woman, with red hair; + but such sweet red, it must be owned. Look, Prince Charming!” + </p> + <p> + And so saying, she tapped Djalma lightly on the shoulder; he started at + these words, turned round, and for the first time perceived Mdlle. de + Cardoville. + </p> + <p> + Though he had been almost prepared for this meeting, the prince was so + violently affected by it, that he was about involuntarily to rise, in a + state of the utmost confusion; but he felt the iron hand of Faringhea laid + heavily on his shoulder, and heard him whisper in Hindostanee: “Courage! + and by to-morrow she will be at your feet.” + </p> + <p> + As Djalma still struggled to rise, the half-caste added to restrain him: + “Just now, she grew pale and red with jealousy. No weakness, or all + is lost!” + </p> + <p> + “So! there you are again, talking your dreadful gibberish,” + said Rose Pompon, turning round towards Faringhea. “First of all, it + is not polite; and then the language is so odd, that one might suppose you + were cracking nuts.” + </p> + <p> + “I spoke of you to my master,” said the half-caste; “he + is preparing a surprise for you.” + </p> + <p> + “A surprise? oh! that is different. Only make haste—do you + hear, Prince Charming!” added she, looking tenderly at Djalma. + </p> + <p> + “My heart is breaking,” said Djalma, in a hollow voice to + Faringhea, still using the language of India. + </p> + <p> + “But to-morrow it will bound with joy and love,” answered the + half-caste. “It is only by disdain that you can conquer a proud + woman. To-morrow, I tell you, she will be trembling, confused, + supplicating, at your feet!” + </p> + <p> + “To-morrow, she will hate me like death!” replied the prince, + mournfully. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, were she now to see you weak and cowardly. It is now too late + to draw back; look full at her, take the nosegay from this girl, and raise + it to your lips. Instantly, you will see yonder woman, proud as she is, + grow pale and red, as just now. Then will you believe me?” + </p> + <p> + Reduced by despair to make almost any attempt, and fascinated, in spite of + himself, by the diabolical hints of Faringhea, Djalma looked for a second + full at Mdlle. de Cardoville; then, with a trembling hand he took the + bouquet from Rose-Pompon, and, again looking at Adrienne, pressed it to + his lips. + </p> + <p> + Upon this insolent bravado, Mdlle. de Cardoville could not restrain so + sudden and visible a pang, that the prince was struck by it. + </p> + <p> + “She is yours,” said the half-caste, to him. “Did you + see, my lord, how she trembled with jealousy?—Only have courage! and + she is yours. She will soon prefer you to that handsome young man behind + her—for it is he whom she has hitherto fancied herself in love with.” + </p> + <p> + As if the half-caste had guessed the movement of rage and hatred, which + this revelation would excite in the heart of the prince, he hastily added: + “Calmness and disdain! Is it not his turn now to hate you?” + </p> + <p> + The prince restrained himself, and drew his hand across his forehead which + glowed with anger. + </p> + <p> + “There now! what are you telling him, that vexes him so?” said + Rose Pompon to Faringhea, with pouting lip. Then, addressing Djalma, she + continued: “Come, Prince Charming, as they say in the fairy-tale, + give me back my flowers.” + </p> + <p> + As she took it again, she added: “You have kissed it, and I could + almost eat it.” Then, with a sigh, and a passionate glance at + Djalma, she said softly to herself: “That monster Ninny Moulin did + not deceive me. All this is quite proper; I have not even that to reproach + myself with.” And with her little white teeth, she bit at a rosy + nail of her right hand, from which she had just drawn the glove. + </p> + <p> + It is hardly necessary to say, that Adrienne’s letter had not been + delivered to the prince, and that he had not gone to pass the day in the + country with Marshal Simon. During the three days in which Montbron had + not seen Djalma, Faringhea had persuaded him, that, by affecting another + passion, he would bring Mdlle. de Cardoville to terms. With regard to + Djalma’s presence at the theatre, Rodin had learned from her maid, + Florine, that her mistress was to go in the evening to the Porte-Saint + Martin. Before Djalma had recognized her, Adrienne, who felt her strength + failing her, was on the point of quitting the theatre; the man, whom she + had hitherto placed so high, whom she had regarded as a hero and a + demi-god and whom she had imagined plunged in such dreadful despair, that, + led by the most tender pity, she had written to him with simple frankness, + that a sweet hope might calm his grief—replied to a generous mark of + sincerity and love, by making himself a ridiculous spectacle with a + creature unworthy of him. What incurable wounds for Adrienne’s + pride! It mattered little, whether Djalma knew or not, that she would be a + spectator of the indignity. But when she saw herself recognized by the + prince, when he carried the insult so far as to look full at her, and, at + the same time, raise to his lips the creature’s bouquet who + accompanied him, Adrienne was seized with noble indignation, and felt + sufficient courage to remain: instead of closing her eyes to evidence, she + found a sort of barbarous pleasure in assisting at the agony and death of + her pure and divine love. With head erect, proud and flashing eye, flushed + cheek, and curling lip, she looked in her turn at the prince with + disdainful steadiness. It was with a sardonic smile that she said to the + marchioness, who, like many others of the spectators was occupied with + what was passing in the stage-box: “This revolting exhibition of + savage manners is at least in accordance with the rest of the performance.” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly,” said the marchioness; “and my dear uncle + will have lost, perhaps, the most amusing part.” + </p> + <p> + “Montbron?” said Adrienne, hastily, with hardly repressed + bitterness; “yes, he will regret not having seen all. I am impatient + for his arrival. Is it not to him that I am indebted for his charming + evening?” + </p> + <p> + Perhaps Madame de Morinval would have remarked the expression of bitter + irony, that Adrienne could not altogether dissemble, if suddenly a hoarse + and prolonged roar had net attracted her attention, as well as that of the + rest of the audience, who had hitherto been quite indifferent to the + scenes intended for an introduction to the appearance of Morok. Every eye + was now turned instinctively towards the cavern situated to the left of + the stage, just below Mdlle. de Cardoville’s box; a thrill of + curiosity ran through the house. A second roar, deeper and more sonorous, + and apparently expressive of more irritation than the first, now rose from + the cave, the mouth of which was half-hidden by artificial brambles, made + so as to be easily put on one side. At this sound, the Englishman stood up + in his little box, leaned half over the front, and began to rub his hands + with great energy; then, remaining perfectly motionless, he fixed his + large, green, glittering eyes on the mouth of the cavern. + </p> + <p> + At these ferocious howlings, Djalma also had started, notwithstanding the + frenzy of love, hate, and jealousy, to which he was a prey. The sight of + this forest, and the roarings of the panther, filled him with deep + emotion, for they recalled the remembrance of his country, and of those + great hunts which, like war, have their own terrible excitement. Had he + suddenly heard the horns and gongs of his father’s army sounding to + the charge, he could not have been transported with more savage ardor. And + now deep growls, like distant thunder, almost drowned the roar of the + panther. The lion and tiger, Judas and Cain answered her from their dens + at the back of the stage. On this frightful concert, with which his ears + had been familiar in the midst of the solitudes of India, when he lay + encamped, for the purposes of the chase or of war, Djalma’s blood + boiled in his veins. His eyes sparkled with a wild ardor. Leaning a little + forward, with both hands pressed on the front of the box, his whole body + trembled with a convulsive shudder. The audience, the theatre, Adrienne + herself no longer existed for him; he was in a forest of his own lands, + tracking the tiger. + </p> + <p> + Then there mingled with his beauty so intrepid and ferocious an + expression, that Rose-Pompon looked at him with a sort of terror and + passionate admiration. For the first time in her life, perhaps, her pretty + blue eyes, generally so gay and mischievous; expressed a serious emotion. + She could not explain what she felt; but her heart seemed frightened, and + beat violently, as though some calamity were at hand. + </p> + <p> + Yielding to a movement of involuntary fear, she seized Djalma by the arm, + and said to him: “Do not stare so into that cavern; you frighten me.” + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:65%;"> + <img src="images/20591m.jpg" alt="20501m” width=" /><br /> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/20591.jpg"><i>Original</i></a> + </h5> + <p> + Djalma did not hear what she said. + </p> + <p> + “Here he is! here he is!” murmured the crowd, almost with one + voice, as Morok appeared at the back of the stage. + </p> + <p> + Dressed as we have described, Morok now carried in addition a bow and a + long quiver full of arrows. He slowly descended the line of painted rocks, + which came sloping down towards the centre of the stage. From time to + time, he stopped as if to listen, and appeared to advance with caution. + Looking from one side to the other, his eyes involuntarily encountered the + large, green eyes of the Englishman, whose box was close to the cavern. + Instantly the lion-tamer’s countenance was contracted in so + frightful a manner, that Lady Morinval, who was examining him closely with + the aid of an excellent glass, said hastily to Adrienne: “My dear, + the man is afraid. Some misfortune will happen.” + </p> + <p> + “How can accidents happen,” said Adrienne, with a sardonic + smile, “in the midst of this brilliant crowd, so well dressed and + full of animation! Misfortunes here, this evening! why, dear Julia, you do + not think it. It is in darkness and solitude that misfortunes come—never + in the midst of a joyous crowd, and in all this blaze of light.” + </p> + <p> + “Good gracious, Adrienne! take care!” cried the marchioness, + unable to repress an exclamation of alarm, and seizing her arm, as if to + draw her closer; “do you not see it?” And with a trembling + hand, she pointed to the cavern’s mouth. Adrienne hastily bent + forward, and looked in that direction. “Take care, do not lean so + forward!” exclaimed Lady Morinval. + </p> + <p> + “Your terrors are nonsensical, my dear,” said the marquis to + his wife. “The panther is securely chained; and even were it to + break its chains (which is impossible), we are here beyond its reach.” + </p> + <p> + A long murmur of trembling curiosity here ran through the house, and every + eye was intently fixed on the cavern. From amongst the artificial + brambles, which she abruptly pushed aside with her broad chest, the black + panther suddenly appeared. Twice she stretched forth her flat head, + illumined by yellow, flaming eyes; then, half-opening her blood-red jaws, + she uttered another roar, and exhibited two rows of formidable fangs. A + double iron chain, and a collar also of iron, painted black, blended with + the ebon shades of her hide, and with the darkness of the cavern. The + illusion was complete, and the terrible animal seemed to be at liberty in + her den. + </p> + <p> + “Ladies,” said the marquis, suddenly, “look at those + Indians. Their emotion makes them superb!” + </p> + <p> + In fact, the sight of the panther had raised the wild ardor of Djalma to + its utmost pitch. His eyes sparkled in their pearly orbits like two black + diamonds; his upper lip was curled convulsively with an expression of + animal ferocity, as if he were in a violent paroxysm of rage. + </p> + <p> + Faringhea, now leaning on the front of the box, was also greatly excited, + by reason of a strange coincidence. “That black panther of so rare a + breed,” thought he, “which I see here at Paris, upon the + stage, must be the very one that the Malay”—the Thug who had + tatooed Djalma at Java during his sleep—“took quite young from + his den, and sold to a European captain. Bowanee’s power is + everywhere!” added the Thug, in his sanguinary superstition. + </p> + <p> + “Do you not think,” resumed the marquis, addressing Adrienne, + “that those Indians are really splendid in their present attitude?” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps they may have seen such a hunt in their own country,” + said Adrienne, as if she would recall and brave the most cruel + remembrances. + </p> + <p> + “Adrienne,” said the marchioness, suddenly, in an agitated + voice, “the lion-tamer has now come nearer—is not his + countenance fearful to look at?—I tell you he is afraid.” + </p> + <p> + “In truth,” observed the marquis, this time very seriously, + “he is dreadfully pale, and seems to grow worse every minute, the + nearer he approaches this side. It is said that, were he to lose his + presence of mind for a single moment, he would run the greatest danger.” + </p> + <p> + “O! it would be horrible!” cried the marchioness, addressing + Adrienne, “if he were wounded—there—under our eyes!” + </p> + <p> + “Every wound does not kill,” replied her friend, with an + accent of such cold indifference, that the marchioness looked at her with + surprise, and said to her: “My dear girl, what you say there is + cruel!” + </p> + <p> + “It is the air of the place that acts on me,” answered + Adrienne, with an icy smile. + </p> + <p> + “Look! look! the lion-tamer is about to shoot his arrow at the + panther,” said the marquis, suddenly. “No doubt, he will next + perform the hand to hand grapple.” + </p> + <p> + Morok was at this moment in front of the stage, but he had yet to traverse + its entire breadth to reach the cavern’s mouth. He stopped an + instant, adjusted an arrow to the string, knelt down behind a mass of + rock, took deliberate aim—and then the arrow hissed across the + stage, and was lost in the depths of the cavern, into which the panther + had retired, after showing for a moment her threatening head to the + audience. Hardly had the arrow disappeared, than Death, purposely + irritated by Goliath (who was invisible) sent forth a howl of rage, as if + she had been really wounded. Morok’s actions became so expressive, + he evinced so naturally his joy at having hit the wild beast, that a + tempest of applause burst from every quarter of the house. Then, throwing + away his bow, he drew a dagger from his girdle, took it between his teeth, + and began to crawl forward on hands and knees, as though he meant to + surprise the wounded panther in his den. To render the illusion perfect, + Death, again excited by Goliath, who struck him with an iron bar, sent + forth frightful howlings from the depths of the cavern. + </p> + <p> + The gloomy aspect of the forest, only half-lighted with a reddish glare, + was so effective—the howlings of the panther were so furious—the + gestures, attitude, and countenance of Morok were so expressive of terror, + that the audience, attentive and trembling, now maintained a profound + silence. Every one held his breath, and a kind of shudder came over the + spectators, as though they expected some horrible event. What gave such a + fearful air of truth to the pantomime of Morok, was that, as he approached + the cavern step by step, he approached also the Englishman’s box. In + spite of himself, the lion-tamer, fascinated by terror, could not take his + eyes from the large green eyes of this man, and it seemed as if every one + of the abrupt movements which he made in crawling along, was produced by a + species of magnetic attraction, caused by the fixed gaze of the fatal + wagerer. Therefore, the nearer Morok approached, the more ghastly and + livid he became. At sight of this pantomime, which was no longer acting, + but the real expression of intense fear, the deep and trembling silence + which had reigned in the theatre was once more interrupted by + acclamations, with which were mingled the roarings of the panther, and the + distant growls of the lion and tiger. + </p> + <p> + The Englishman leaned almost out of his box, with a frightful sardonic + smile on his lip, and with his large eyes still fixed, panted for breath. + The perspiration ran down his bald red forehead, as if he had really + expended an incredible amount of magnetic power in attracting Morok, whom + he now saw close to the cavern entrance. The moment was decisive. + Crouching down with his dagger in his hand, following with eye and gesture + Death’s every movement, who, roaring furiously, and opening wide her + enormous jaws, seemed determined to guard the entrance of her den, Morok + waited for the moment to rush upon her. There is such fascination in + danger, that Adrienne shared, in spite of herself, the feeling of painful + curiosity, mixed with terror, that thrilled through all the spectators. + Leaning forward like the marchioness, and gazing upon this scene of + fearful interest, the lady still held mechanically in her hand the Indian + bouquet preserved since the morning. Suddenly, Morok raised a wild shout, + as he rushed towards Death, who answered this exclamation by a dreadful + roar, and threw herself upon her master with so much fury, that Adrienne, + in alarm, believing the man lost, drew herself back, and covered her fact + with her hands. Her flowers slipped from her grasp, and, falling upon the + stage, rolled into the cavern in which Morok was struggling with the + panther. + </p> + <p> + Quick as lightning, supple and agile as a tiger, yielding to the + intoxication of his love, and to the wild ardor excited in him by the + roaring of the panther, Djalma sprang at one bound upon the stage, drew + his dagger, and rushed into the cavern to recover Adrienne’s + nosegay. At that instant, Morok, being wounded, uttered a dreadful cry for + help; the panther, rendered still more furious at sight of Djalma, make + the most desperate efforts to break her chain. Unable to succeed in doing + so, she rose upon her hind legs, in order to seize Djalma, then within + reach of her sharp claws. It was only by bending down his head, throwing + himself on his knees, and twice plunging his dagger into her belly with + the rapidity of lightning, that Djalma escaped certain death. The panther + gave a howl, and fell with her whole weight upon the prince. For a second, + during which lasted her terrible agony, nothing was seen but a confused + and convulsive mass of black limbs, and white garments stained with blood—and + then Djalma rose, pale, bleeding, for he was wounded—and standing + erect, his eye flashing with savage pride, his foot on the body of the + panther, he held in his hand Adrienne’s bouquet, and cast towards + her a glance which told the intensity of his love. Then only did Adrienne + feel her strength fail her—for only superhuman courage had enabled + her to watch all the terrible incidents of the struggle. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0137" id="link2H_4_0137"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + BOOK IX. + </h2> + <div class="fig" style="width:65%;"> + <img src="images/30009m.jpg" alt="30009m” width=" /><br /> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/30009.jpg"><i>Original</i></a> + </h5> + <div class="fig" style="width:65%;"> + <img src="images/30013m.jpg" alt="30013m” width=" /><br /> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/30013.jpg"><i>Original</i></a> + </h5> + <div class="fig" style="width:65%;"> + <img src="images/30019m.jpg" alt="30019m” width=" /><br /> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/30019.jpg"><i>Original</i></a> + </h5> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + XV. The Constant Wanderer XVI. The Luncheon XVII. Rendering + the Account XVIII. The Square of Notre Dame XIX. The Cholera + Masquerade XX. The Defiance XXI. Brandy to the Rescue XXII. + Memories XXIII. The Poisoner XXIV. In the Cathedral XXV. The + Murderers XXVI. The Patient XXVII. The Lure XXVIII. Good + News XXIX. The Operation XXX. The Torture XXXI. Vice and + Virtue XXXII. Suicide +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0120" id="link2HCH0120"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XV. THE CONSTANT WANDERER. + </h2> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">I</span>t is night. The + moon shines and the stars glimmer in the midst of a serene but cheerless + sky; the sharp whistlings of the north wind, that fatal, dry, and icy + breeze, ever and anon burst forth in violent gusts. With its harsh and + cutting breath, it sweeps Montmartre’s Heights. On the highest point + of the hills, a man is standing. His long shadow is cast upon the stony, + moon-lit ground. He gazes on the immense city, which lies outspread + beneath his feet. PARIS—with the dark outline of its towers, + cupolas, domes, and steeples, standing out from the limpid blue of the + horizon, while from the midst of the ocean of masonry, rises a luminous + vapor, that reddens the starry azure of the sky. It is the distant + reflection of the thousand fires, which at night, the hour of pleasures, + light up so joyously the noisy capital. + </p> + <p> + “No,” said the wayfarer; “it is not to be. The Lord will + not exact it. Is not twice enough? + </p> + <p> + “Five centuries ago, the avenging hand of the Almighty drove me + hither from the uttermost confines of Asia. A solitary traveller, I had + left behind me more grief, despair, disaster, and death, than the + innumerable armies of a hundred devastating conquerors. I entered this + town, and it too was decimated. + </p> + <p> + “Again, two centuries ago, the inexorable hand, which leads me + through the world, brought me once more hither; and then, as the time + before, the plague, which the Almighty attaches to my steps, again ravaged + this city, and fell first on my brethren, already worn out with labor and + misery. + </p> + <p> + “My brethren—mine?—the cobbler of Jerusalem, the artisan + accursed by the Lord, who, in my person, condemned the whole race of + workmen, ever suffering, ever disinherited, ever in slavery, toiling on + like me without rest or pause, without recompense or hope, till men, + women, and children, young and old, all die beneath the same iron yoke—that + murderous yoke, which others take in their turn, thus to be borne from age + to age on the submissive and bruised shoulders of the masses. + </p> + <p> + “And now, for the third time in five centuries, I reach the summit + of one of the hills that overlook the city. And perhaps I again bring with + me fear, desolation, and death. + </p> + <p> + “Yet this city, intoxicated with the sounds of its joys and its + nocturnal revelries, does not know—oh! does not know that I am at + its gates. + </p> + <p> + “But no, no! my presence will not be a new calamity. The Lord, in + his impenetrable views, has hitherto led me through France, so as to avoid + the humblest hamlet; and the sound of the funeral knell has not + accompanied my passage. + </p> + <p> + “And, moreover, the spectre has left me—the green, livid + spectre, with its hollow, bloodshot eyes. When I touched the soil of + France, its damp and icy hands was no longer clasped in mine—and it + disappeared. + </p> + <p> + “And yet—I feel that the atmosphere of death is around me. + </p> + <p> + “The sharp whistlings of that fatal wind cease not, which, catching + me in their whirl, seem to propagate blasting and mildew as they blow. + </p> + <p> + “But perhaps the wrath of the Lord is appeased, and my presence here + is only a threat—to be communicated in some way to those whom it + should intimidate. + </p> + <p> + “Yes; for otherwise he would smite with a fearful blow, by first + scattering terror and death here in the heart of the country, in the bosom + of this immense city! + </p> + <p> + “Oh! no, no! the Lord will be merciful. No! he will not condemn me + to this new torture. + </p> + <p> + “Alas! in this city, my brethren are more numerous and miserable + than elsewhere. And should I be their messenger of death?” + </p> + <p> + “No! the Lord will have pity. For, alas! the seven descendants of my + sister have at length met in this town. And to them likewise should I be + the messenger of death, instead of the help they so much need? + </p> + <p> + “For that woman, who like me wanders from one border of the earth to + the other, after having once more rent asunder the nets of their enemies, + has gone forth upon her endless journey. + </p> + <p> + “In vain she foresaw that new misfortunes threatened my sister’s + family. The invisible hand, that drives me on, drives her on also. + </p> + <p> + “Carried away, as of old, by the irresistible whirlwind, at the + moment of leaving my kindred to their fate, she in vain cried with + supplicating tone: ‘Let me at least, O Lord, complete my task!’—‘GO + ON!—‘A few days, in mercy, only a few poor days!’—‘GO + ON’—‘I leave those I love on the brink of the abyss!’—‘GO + ON! GO ON!’ + </p> + <p> + “And the wandering star—again started on its eternal round. + And her voice, passing through space, called me to the assistance of mine + own. + </p> + <p> + “When that voice readied me, I knew that the descendants of my + sister were still exposed to frightful perils. Those perils are even now + on the increase. + </p> + <p> + “Tell me, O Lord! will they escape the scourge, which for so many + centuries has weighed down our race? + </p> + <p> + “Wilt thou pardon me in them? wilt thou punish me in them? Oh, that + they might obey the last will of their ancestor! + </p> + <p> + “Oh, that they might join together their charitable hearts, their + valor and their strength, their noble intelligence, and their great + riches! + </p> + <p> + “They would then labor for the future happiness of humanity—they + would thus, perhaps, redeem me from my eternal punishment! + </p> + <p> + “The words of the Son of Man, LOVE YE ONE ANOTHER, will be their + only end, their only means. + </p> + <p> + “By the help of those all-powerful words, they will fight and + conquer the false priests, who have renounced the precepts of love, peace, + and hope, for lessons of hatred, violence, and despair. + </p> + <p> + “Those false priests, who, kept in pay by the powerful and happy of + this world, their accomplices in every age, instead of asking here below + for some slight share of well-being for my unfortunate brethren, dare in + thy name, O Lord God, to assert that the poor are condemned to endless + suffering in this world—and that the desire or the hope to suffer + less is a crime in thine eyes—because the happiness of the few, and + the misery of nearly the whole human race, is (O blasphemy!) according to + thy will. Is not the very contrary of those murderous words alone worthy + of divinity! + </p> + <p> + “In mercy, hear me, Lord! Rescue from their enemies the descendants + of my sister—the artisan as the king’s son. Do not let them + destroy the germ of so mighty and fruitful an association, which, with thy + blessing, would make an epoch in the annals of human happiness! + </p> + <p> + “Let me unite them, O Lord, since others would divide them—defend + them, since others attack; let me give hope to those who have ceased to + hope, courage to those who are brought low with fear—let me raise up + the falling, and sustain those who persevere in the way of the righteous! + </p> + <p> + “And, peradventure, their struggles, devotion, virtue, and grief, + may expiate my fault—that of a man, whom misfortune alone rendered + unjust and wicked. + </p> + <p> + “Oh! since Thy Almighty hand hath led me hither—to what end I + know not—lay aside Thy wrath, I beseech Thee—let me be no + longer the instrument of Thy vengeance! + </p> + <p> + “Enough of woe upon the earth! for the last two years, Thy creatures + have fallen by thousands upon my track. The world is decimated. A veil of + mourning extends over all the globe. + </p> + <p> + “From Asia to the icy Pole, they died upon the path of the wanderer. + Dost Thou not hear the long-drawn sigh that rises from the earth unto + Thee, O Lord? + </p> + <p> + “Mercy for all! mercy for me!—Let me but unite the descendants + of my sister for a single day, and they will be saved!” + </p> + <p> + As he pronounced these words, the wayfarer sank upon his knees, and raised + to heaven, his supplicating hands. Suddenly, the wind blew with redoubled + violence; its sharp whistlings were changed into the roar of a tempest. + </p> + <p> + The traveller shuddered; in a voice of terror he exclaimed: “The + blast of death rises in its fury—the whirlwind carries me on—Lord! + Thou art then deaf to my prayer?” + </p> + <p> + “The spectre! oh, the spectre! it is again here! its green face + twitching with convulsive spasms—its red eyes rolling in their + orbits. Begone! begone!—its hand, oh! its icy hand has again laid + hold of mine. Have mercy, heaven!” + </p> + <p> + “GO ON!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Lord! the pestilence—the terrible plague—must I + carry it into this city?—And my brethren will perish the first—they, + who are so sorely smitten even now! Mercy!” + </p> + <p> + “GO ON!” + </p> + <p> + “And the descendants of my sister. Mercy! Mercy!” + </p> + <p> + “GO ON!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Lord, have pity!—I can no longer keep my ground; the + spectre drags me to the slope of the hill; my walk is rapid as the deadly + blast that rages behind me; already do I behold the city gates. Have + mercy, Lord, on the descendants of my sister! Spare them; do not make me + their executioner; let them triumph over their enemies!” + </p> + <p> + “GO ON! GO ON!” + </p> + <p> + “The ground flies beneath my feet; there is the city gate. Lord, it + is yet time! Oh, mercy for that sleeping town! Let it not waken to cries + of terror, despair, and death! Lord, I am on the threshold. Must it be?—Yes, + it is done. Paris, the plague is in thy bosom. The curse—oh, the + eternal curse!” + </p> + <p> + “GO ON! GO ON! GO ON!” <a name="link2HCH0121" id="link2HCH0121"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XVI. THE LUNCHEON. + </h2> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>he morning after + the doomed traveller, descending the heights of Montmartre, had entered + the walls of Paris, great activity reigned in St. Dizier House. Though it + was hardly noon, the Princess de St. Dizier, without being exactly in full + dress (she had too much taste for that), was yet arrayed with more care + than usual. Her light hair, instead of being merely banded, was arranged + in two bunches of curls, which suited very well with her full and florid + cheeks. Her cap was trimmed with bright rose-colored ribbon, and whoever + had seen the lady in her tight fitting dress of gray-watered silk would + have easily guessed that Mrs. Grivois, her tirewoman, must have required + the assistance and the efforts of another of the princess’s women to + achieve so remarkable a reduction in the ample figure of their mistress. + </p> + <p> + We shall explain the edifying cause of this partial return to the vanities + of the world. The princess, attended by Mrs. Grivois, who acted as + housekeeper, was giving her final orders with regard to some preparations + that were going on in a vast parlor. In the midst of this room was a large + round table, covered with crimson velvet, and near it stood several + chairs, amongst which, in the place of honor, was an arm chair of gilded + wood. In one corner, not far from the chimney, in which burned an + excellent fire, was a buffet. On it were the divers materials for a most + dainty and exquisite collation. Upon silver dishes were piled pyramids of + sandwiches composed of the roes of carp and anchovy paste, with slices of + pickled tunny-fish and Lenigord truffles (it was in Lent); on silver + dishes, placed over burning spirits of wine, so as to keep them very hot, + tails of Meuse crawfish boiled in cream, smoked in golden colored pastry, + and seemed to challenge comparison with delicious little Marennes + oyster-patties, stewed in Madeira, and flavored with a seasoning of spiced + sturgeon. By the side of these substantial dishes were some of a lighter + character, such as pineapple tarts, strawberry-creams (it was early for + such fruit), and orange-jelly served in the peel, which had been + artistically emptied for that purpose. Bordeaux, Madeira, and Alicant + sparkled like rubies and topazes in large glass decanters, while two + Sevres ewers were filled, one with coffee a la creme, the other with + vanilla chocolate, almost in the state of sherbet, from being plunged in a + large cooler of chiselled silver, containing ice. + </p> + <p> + But what gave to this dainty collation a singularly apostolic and papal + character were sundry symbols of religious worship carefully represented. + Thus there were charming little Calvaries in apricot paste, sacerdotal + mitres in burnt almonds, episcopal croziers in sweet cake, to which the + princess added, as a mark of delicate attention, a little cardinal’s + hat in cherry sweetmeat, ornamented with bands in burnt sugar. The most + important, however, of these Catholic delicacies, the masterpiece of the + cook, was a superb crucifix in angelica, with a crown of candied berries. + These are strange profanations, which scandalize even the least devout. + But, from the impudent juggle of the coat of Triers, down to the shameless + jest of the shrine at Argenteuil, people, who are pious after the fashion + of the princess, seem to take delight in bringing ridicule upon the most + respectable traditions. + </p> + <p> + After glancing with an air of satisfaction at these preparations for the + collation, the lady said to Mrs. Grivois, as she pointed to the gilded + arm-chair, which seemed destined for the president of the meeting: “Is + there a cushion under the table, for his Eminence to rest his feet on? He + always complains of cold.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, your highness,” said Mrs. Grivois, when she had looked + under the table; “the cushion is there.” + </p> + <p> + “Let also a pewter bottle be filled with boiling water, in case his + Eminence should not find the cushion enough to keep his feet warm.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, my lady.” + </p> + <p> + “And put some more wood on the fire.” + </p> + <p> + “But, my lady, it is already a very furnace. And if his Eminence is + always too cold, my lord the Bishop of Halfagen is always too hot. He + perspires dreadfully.” + </p> + <p> + The princess shrugged her shoulders, and said to Mrs. Grivois: “Is + not his Eminence Cardinal Malipieri the superior of his Lordship the + Bishop of Halfagen?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, your highness.” + </p> + <p> + “Then, according to the rules of the hierarchy, it is for his + Lordship to suffer from the heat, rather than his Eminence from the cold. + Therefore, do as I tell you, and put more wood on the fire. Nothing is + more natural; his Eminence being an Italian, and his Lordship coming from + the north of Belgium, they are accustomed to different temperatures.” + </p> + <p> + “Just as your highness pleases,” said Mrs. Grivois, as she + placed two enormous logs on the fire; “but in such a heat as there + is here his Lordship might really be suffocated.” + </p> + <p> + “I also find it too warm; but does not our holy religion teach us + lessons of self-sacrifice and mortification?” said the princess, + with a touching expression of devotion. + </p> + <p> + We have now explained the cause of the rather gay attire of the princess. + She was preparing for a reception of prelates, who, along with Father d’Aigrigny + and other dignitaries of the Church, had already held at the princely + house a sort of council on a small scale. A young bride who gives her + first ball, an emancipated minor who gives his first bachelor’s + dinner, a woman of talent who reads aloud for the first time her first + unpublished work, are not more joyous and proud, and, at the same time, + more attentive to their guests, than was this lady with her prelates. To + behold great interests discussed in her house, and in her presence, to + hear men of acknowledged ability ask her advice upon certain practical + matters relating to the influence of female congregations, filled the + princess with pride, as her claims to consideration were thus sanctioned + by Lordships and Eminences, and she took the position, as it were, of a + mother of the Church. Therefore, to win these prelates, whether native or + foreign, she had recourse to no end of saintly flatteries and sanctified + coaxing. Nor could anything be more logical than these successive + transfigurations of this heartless woman, who only loved sincerely and + passionately the pursuit of intrigue and domination. With the progress of + age, she passed naturally from the intrigues of love to those of politics, + and from the latter to those of religion. + </p> + <p> + At the moment she finished inspecting her preparations, the sound of + coaches was heard in the courtyard, apprising her of the arrival of the + persons she had been expecting. Doubtless, these persons were of the + highest rank, for contrary to all custom, she went to receive them at the + door of her outer saloon. It was, indeed, Cardinal Malipieri, who was + always cold, with the Belgian Bishop of Halfagen, who was always hot. They + were accompanied by Father d’Aigrigny. The Roman cardinal was a tall + man, rather bony than thin, with a yellowish puffy countenance, haughty + and full of craft; he squinted a good deal, and his black eyes were + surrounded by a deep brown circle. The Belgian Bishop was short, thick, + and fat, with a prominent abdomen, an apoplectic complexion, a slow, + deliberate look, and a soft, dimpled, delicate hand. + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:65%;"> + <img src="images/30029m.jpg" alt="30029m” width=" /><br /> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/30029.jpg"><i>Original</i></a> + </h5> + <p> + The company soon assembled in the great saloon. The cardinal instantly + crept close to the fire, whilst the bishop, beginning to sweat and blow, + cast longing glances at the iced chocolate and coffee, which were to aid + him in sustaining the oppressive heat of the artificial dog-day. Father d’Aigrigny, + approaching the princess, said to her in a low voice: “Will you give + orders for the admittance of Abbe Gabriel de Rennepont, when he arrives?” + </p> + <p> + “Is that young priest then here?” asked the princess, with + extreme surprise. + </p> + <p> + “Since the day before yesterday. We had him sent for to Paris, by + his superiors. You shall know all. As for Father Rodin, let Mrs. Grivois + admit him, as the other day, by the little door of the back stairs.” + </p> + <p> + “He will come to-day?” + </p> + <p> + “He has very important matters to communicate. He desires that both + the cardinal and the bishop should be present for they have been informed + of everything at Rome by the Superior General, in their quality of + associates.” + </p> + <p> + The princess rang the bell, gave the necessary orders, and, returning + towards the cardinal, said to him, in a tone of the most earnest + solicitude: “Does your Eminence begin to feel a little warmer? Would + your Eminence like a bottle of hot water to your feet? Shall we make a + larger fire for your Eminence?” + </p> + <p> + At this proposition, the Belgian bishop, who was wiping the perspiration + from his forehead, heaved a despairing sigh. + </p> + <p> + “A thousand thanks, princess,” answered the cardinal to her, + in very good French, but with an intolerable Italian accent; “I am + really overcome with so much kindness.” + </p> + <p> + “Will not your Lordship take some refreshment?” said the + princess to the bishop, as she turned towards the sideboard. + </p> + <p> + “With your permission, madame, I will take a little iced coffee,” + said the prelate, making a prudent circuit to approach the dishes without + passing before the fire. + </p> + <p> + “And will not your Eminence try one of these little oyster-patties? + They are quite hot,” said the princess. + </p> + <p> + “I know them already, princess,” said the cardinal, with the + air and look of an epicure; “they are delicious, and I cannot resist + the temptation.” + </p> + <p> + “What wine shall I have the honor to offer your Eminence?” + resumed the princess, graciously. + </p> + <p> + “A little claret, if you please, madame;” and as Father d’Aigrigny + prepared to fill the cardinal’s glass, the princess disputed with + him that pleasure. + </p> + <p> + “Your Eminence will doubtless approve what I have done,” said + Father d’Aigrigny to the cardinal, whilst the latter was gravely + despatching the oyster-patties, “in not summoning for to-day the + Bishop of Mogador, the Archbishop of Nanterre, and our holy Mother + Perpetue, the lady-superior of St. Mary Convent, the interview we are + about to have with his Reverence Father Rodin and Abbe Gabriel being + altogether private and confidential.” + </p> + <p> + “Our good father was perfectly right,” said the cardinal; + “for, though the possible consequences of this Rennepont affair may + interest the whole Church, there are some things that are as well kept + secret.” + </p> + <p> + “Then I must seize this opportunity to thank your Eminence for + having deigned to make an exception in favor of a very obscure and humble + servant of the Church,” said the princess to the cardinal, with a + very deep and respectful curtsey. + </p> + <p> + “It is only just and right, madame,” replied the cardinal, + bowing as he replaced his empty glass upon the table; “we know how + much the Church is indebted to you for the salutary direction you give to + the religious institutions of which you are the patroness.” + </p> + <p> + “With regard to that, your Eminence may be assured that I always + refuse assistance to any poor person who cannot produce a certificate from + the confessional.” + </p> + <p> + “And it is only thus, madame,” resumed the cardinal, this time + allowing himself to be tempted by the attractions of the crawfish’s + tails, “it is only thus that charity has any meaning. I care little + that the irreligious should feel hunger, but with the pious it is + different;” and the prelate gayly swallowed a mouthful. “Moreover,” + resumed he, “it is well known with what ardent zeal you pursue the + impious, and those who are rebels against the authority of our Holy + Father.” + </p> + <p> + “Your Eminence may feel convinced that I am Roman in heart and soul; + I see no difference between a Gallican and a Turk,” said the + princess, bravely. + </p> + <p> + “The princess is right,” said the Belgian bishop: “I + will go further, and assert that a Gallican should be more odious to the + church than a pagan. In this respect I am of the opinion of Louis XIV. + They asked him a favor for a man about the court. ‘Never,’ + said the great king; ‘this person is a Jansenist.’—‘No, + sire; he is an atheist.’—‘Oh! that is different; I will + grant what he asks,’ said the King.” + </p> + <p> + This little episcopal jest made them all laugh. After which Father d’Aigrigny + resumed seriously, addressing the cardinal: “Unfortunately, as I was + about to observe to your Eminence with regard to the Abbe Gabriel, unless + they are very narrowly watched, the lower clergy have a tendency to become + infected with dissenting views, and with ideas of rebellion against what + they call the despotism of the bishops.” + </p> + <p> + “This young man must be a Catholic Luther!” said the bishop. + And, walking on tip-toe, he went to pour himself out a glorious glass of + Madeira, in which he soaked some sweet cake, made in the form of a + crozier. + </p> + <p> + Led by his example, the Cardinal, under pretence of warming his feet by + drawing still closer to the fire, helped himself to an excellent glass of + old Malaga, which he swallowed by mouthfuls, with an air of profound + meditation; after which he resumed: “So this Abbe Gabriel starts as + a reformer. He must be an ambitious man. Is he dangerous?” + </p> + <p> + “By our advice his superiors have judged him to be so. They have + ordered him to come hither. He will soon be here, and I will tell your + Eminence why I have sent for him. But first, I have a note on the + dangerous tendencies of the Abbe Gabriel. Certain questions were addressed + to him, with regard to some of his acts, and it was in consequence of his + answers that his superiors recalled him.” + </p> + <p> + So saying, Father d’Aigrigny, took from his pocket-book a paper, + which he read as follows: + </p> + <p> + “‘Question.—Is it true that you performed religious + rites for an inhabitant of your parish who died in final impenitence of + the most detestable kind, since he had committed suicide? + </p> + <p> + “‘Answer of Abbe Gabriel.—I paid him the last duties, + because, more than any one else, because of his guilty end, he required + the prayers of the church. During the night which followed his interment I + continually implored for him the divine mercy. + </p> + <p> + “‘Q.—Is it true that you refused a set of silver-gilt + sacramental vessels, and other ornaments, with which one of the faithful, + in pious zeal, wished to endow your parish? + </p> + <p> + “‘A.—I refused the vessels and embellishments, because + the house of the Lord should be plain and without ornament, so as to + remind the faithful that the divine Saviour was born in a stable. I + advised the person who wished to make these useless presents to my parish + to employ the money in judicious almsgiving, assuring him it would be more + agreeable to the Lord.’” + </p> + <p> + “What a bitter and violent declamation against the adorning of our + temples!” cried the cardinal. “This young priest is most + dangerous. Continue, my good father.” + </p> + <p> + And, in his indignation, his Eminence swallowed several mouthfuls of + strawberry-cream. Father d’Aigrigny continued. + </p> + <p> + “‘Q.—Is it true that you received in your parsonage, and + kept there for some days, an inhabitant of the village, by birth a Swiss, + belonging to the Protestant communion? Is it true that not only you did + not attempt to convert him to the one Catholic and Apostolic faith, but + that you carried so far the neglect of your sacred duties as to inter this + heretic in the ground consecrated for the repose of true believers? + </p> + <p> + “‘A.—One of my brethren was houseless. His life had been + honest and laborious. In his old age his strength had failed him, and + sickness had come at the back of it; almost in a dying state, he had been + driven from his humble dwelling by a pitiless landlord, to whom he owed a + year’s rent. I received the old man in my house, and soothed his + last days. The poor creature had toiled and suffered all his life; dying, + he uttered no word of bitterness at his hard fate; he recommended his soul + to God and piously kissed the crucifix. His pure and simple spirit + returned to the bosom of its Creator. I closed his eyes with respect, I + buried him, I prayed for him; and, though he died in the Protestant faith, + I thought him worthy of a place in consecrated ground.’” + </p> + <p> + “Worse and worse!” said the cardinal. “This tolerance is + monstrous. It is a horrible attack on that maxim of Catholicism: ‘Out + of the pale of the Church there is no salvation.’” + </p> + <p> + “And all this is the more serious, my lord,” resumed Father d’Aigrigny, + “because the mildness, charity, and Christian devotion of Abbe + Gabriel have excited, not only in his parish, but in all the surrounding + districts, the greatest enthusiasm. The priests of the neighboring + parishes have yielded to the general impulse, and it must be confessed + that but for his moderation a wide-spread schism would have commenced.” + </p> + <p> + “But what do you hope will result from bringing him here?” + said the prelate. + </p> + <p> + “The position of Abbe Gabriel is complicated; first of all, he is + the heir of the Rennepont family.” + </p> + <p> + “But has he not ceded his rights?” asked the cardinal. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, my lord; and this cession, which was at first informal, has + lately, with his free consent, been made perfectly regular in law; for he + had sworn, happen what might, to renounce his part of the inheritance in + favor of the Society of Jesus. Nevertheless, his Reverence Father Rodin + thinks, that if your Eminence, after explaining to Abbe Gabriel that he + was about to be recalled by his superiors, were to propose to him some + eminent position at Rome, he might be induced to leave France, and we + might succeed in arousing within him those sentiments of ambition which + are doubtless only sleeping for the present; your Eminence, having + observed, very judiciously, that every reformer must be ambitious.” + </p> + <p> + “I approve of this idea,” said the cardinal, after a moment’s + reflection; “with his merit and power of acting on other men, Abbe + Gabriel may rise very high, if he is docile; and if he should not be so, + it is better for the safety of the Church that he should be at Rome than + here—for you know, my good father, we have securities that are + unfortunately wanting in France.”(36) + </p> + <p> + After some moments of silence, the cardinal said suddenly to Father d’Aigrigny: + “As we were talking of Father Rodin, tell me frankly what you think + of him.” + </p> + <p> + “Your Eminence knows his capacity,” said Father d’Aigrigny, + with a constrained and suspicious air; “our reverend Father-General—” + </p> + <p> + “Commissioned him to take your place,” said the cardinal; + “I know that. He told me so at Rome. But what do you think of the + character of Father Rodin? Can one have full confidence in him?” + </p> + <p> + “He has so complete, so original, so secret, and so impenetrable a + mind,” said Father d’Aigrigny, with hesitation, “that it + is difficult to form any certain judgment with respect to him.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you think him ambitious?” said the cardinal, after another + moment’s pause. “Do you not suppose him capable of having + other views than those of the greater glory of his Order?—Come, I + have reasons for speaking thus,” added the prelate, with emphasis. + </p> + <p> + “Why,” resumed Father d’Aigrigny, not without suspicion, + for the game is played cautiously between people of the same craft, + “what should your Eminence think of him, either from your own + observation, or from the report of the Father-General?” + </p> + <p> + “I think—that if his apparent devotion to his Order really + concealed some after-thought—it would be well to discover it—for, + with the influence that he has obtained at Rome (as I have found out), he + might one day, and that shortly, become very formidable.” + </p> + <p> + “Well!” cried Father d’Aigrigny, impelled by his + jealousy of Rodin; “I am, in this respect, of the same opinion as + your Eminence; for I have sometimes perceived in him flashes of ambition, + that were as alarming as they were extraordinary—and since I must + tell all to your Eminence—” + </p> + <p> + Father d’Aigrigny was unable to continue; at this moment Mrs. + Grivois, who had been knocking at the door, half-opened it, and made a + sign to her mistress. The princess answered by bowing her head, and Mrs. + Grivois again withdrew. A second afterwards Rodin entered the room. + </p> + <p> + (36) It is known that, in 1845, the Inquisition, solitary confinement, + etc., still existed at Rome. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0122" id="link2HCH0122"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XVII. RENDERING THE ACCOUNT. + </h2> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">A</span>t sight of Rodin, + the two prelates and Father d’Aigrigny rose spontaneously, so much + were they overawed by the real superiority of this man; their faces, just + before contracted with suspicion and jealousy, suddenly brightened up, and + seemed to smile on the reverend father with affectionate deference. The + princess advanced some steps to meet him. + </p> + <p> + Rodin, badly dressed as ever, leaving on the soft carpet the muddy track + of his clumsy shoes, put his umbrella into one corner, and advanced + towards the table—not with his accustomed humility, but with slow + step, uplifted head, and steady glance; not only did he feel himself in + the midst of his partisans, but he knew that he could rule them all by the + power of his intellect. + </p> + <p> + “We were speaking of your reverence, my dear, good father,” + said the cardinal, with charming affability. + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” said Rodin, looking fixedly at the prelate; “and + what were you saying?” + </p> + <p> + “Why,” replied the Belgian bishop, wiping his forehead, + “all the good that can be said of your reverence.” + </p> + <p> + “Will you not take something, my good father?” said the + princess to Rodin, as she pointed to the splendid sideboard. + </p> + <p> + “Thank you, madame, I have eaten my radish already this morning.” + </p> + <p> + “My secretary, Abbe Berlini, who was present at your repast, was, + indeed, much astonished at your reverence’s frugality,” said + the prelate: “it is worthy of an anchorite.” + </p> + <p> + “Suppose we talk of business,” said Rodin, abruptly, like a + man accustomed to lead and control the discussion. + </p> + <p> + “We shall always be most happy to hear you,” said the prelate. + “Your reverence yourself fixed to-day to talk over this great + Rennepont affair. It is of such importance, that it was partly the cause + of my journey to France; for to support the interests of the glorious + Company of Jesus, with which I have the honor of being associated, is to + support the interests of Rome itself, and I promised the reverend + Father-General that I would place myself entirely at your orders.” + </p> + <p> + “I can only repeat what his Eminence has just said,” added the + bishop. “We set out from Rome together, and our ideas are just the + same.” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly,” said Rodin, addressing the cardinal, “your + Eminence may serve our cause, and that materially. I will tell you how + presently.” + </p> + <p> + Then, addressing the princess, he continued: “I have desired Dr. + Baleinier to come here, madame, for it will be well to inform him of + certain things.” + </p> + <p> + “He will be admitted as usual,” said the princess. + </p> + <p> + Since Rodin’s arrival Father d’Aigrigny had remained silent; + he seemed occupied with bitter thoughts, and with some violent internal + struggle. At last, half rising, he said to the prelate, in a forced tone + of voice: “I will not ask your Eminence to judge between the + reverend Father Rodin and myself. Our General has pronounced, and I have + obeyed. But, as your Eminence will soon see our superior, I should wish + that you would grant me the favor to report faithfully the answers of + Father Rodin to one or two questions I am about to put to him.” + </p> + <p> + The prelate bowed. Rodin looked at Father d’Aigrigny with an air of + surprise, and said to him, dryly: “The thing is decided. What is the + use of questions?” + </p> + <p> + “Not to justify myself,” answered Father d’Aigrigny, + “but to place matters in their true light before his Eminence.” + </p> + <p> + “Speak, then; but let us have no useless speeches,” said + Rodin, drawing out his large silver watch, and looking at it. “By + two o’clock I must be at Saint-Sulpice.” + </p> + <p> + “I will be as brief as possible,” said Father d’Aigrigny, + with repressed resentment. Then, addressing Rodin, he resumed: “When + your reverence thought fit to take my place, and to blame, very severely + perhaps, the manner in which I had managed the interests confided to my + care, I confess honestly that these interests were gravely compromised.” + </p> + <p> + “Compromised?” said Rodin, ironically; “you mean lost. + Did you not order me to write to Rome, to bid them renounce all hope?” + </p> + <p> + “That is true,” said Father d’Aigrigny. + </p> + <p> + “It was then a desperate case, given up by the best doctors,” + continued Rodin, with irony, “and yet I have undertaken to restore + it to life. Go on.” + </p> + <p> + And, plunging both hands into the pockets of his trousers, he looked + Father d’Aigrigny full in the face. + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:65%;"> + <img src="images/30037m.jpg" alt="30037m” width=" /><br /> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/30037.jpg"><i>Original</i></a> + </h5> + <p> + “Your reverence blamed me harshly,” resumed Father d’Aigrigny, + “not for having sought, by every possible means, to recover the + property odiously diverted from our society—” + </p> + <p> + “All your casuists authorize you to do so,” said the cardinal; + “the texts are clear and positive; you have a right to recover; per + fas aut nefas what has been treacherously taken from you.” + </p> + <p> + “And therefore,” resumed Father d’Aigrigny, “Father + Rodin only reproached me with the military roughness of my means. ‘Their + violence,’ he said, ‘was in dangerous opposition to the + manners of the age.’ Be it so; but first of all, I could not be + exposed to any legal proceedings, and, but for one fatal circumstance, + success would have crowned the course I had taken, however rough and + brutal it may appear. Now, may I ask your reverence what—” + </p> + <p> + “What I have done more than you?” said Rodin to Father d’Aigrigny, + giving way to his impertinent habit of interrupting people; “what I + have done better than you?—what step I have taken in the Rennepont + affair, since I received it from you in a desperate condition? Is that + what you wish to know?” + </p> + <p> + “Precisely,” said Father d’Aigrigny, dryly. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I confess,” resumed Rodin, in a sardonic tone, “just + as you did great things, coarse things, turbulent things, I have been + doing little, puerile, secret things. Oh, heaven! you cannot imagine what + a foolish part I, who passed for a man of enlarged views, have been acting + for the last six weeks.” + </p> + <p> + “I should never have allowed myself to address such a reproach to + your reverence, however deserved it may appear,” said Father d’Aigrigny, + with a bitter smile. + </p> + <p> + “A reproach?” said Rodin, shrugging his shoulders; “a + reproach? You shall be the judge. Do you know what I wrote about you, some + six weeks ago? Here it is: ‘Father d’Aigrigny has excellent + qualities. He will be of much service to me’—and from + to-morrow I shall employ you very actively, added Rodin, by way of + parenthesis—‘but he is not great enough to know how to make + himself little on occasion.’ Do you understand?” + </p> + <p> + “Not very well,” said Father d’Aigrigny, blushing. + </p> + <p> + “So much the worse for you,” answered Rodin; “it only + proves that I was right. Well, since I must tell you, I have been wise + enough to play the most foolish part for six whole weeks. Yes, I have + chatted nonsense with a grisette—have talked of liberty, progress, + humanity, emancipation of women, with a young, excited girl; of Napoleon + the Great, and all sorts of Bonapartist idolatry, with an old, imbecile + soldier; of imperial glory, humiliation of France, hopes in the King of + Rome, with a certain marshal of France, who, with a heart full of + adoration for the robber of thrones, that was transported to Saint-Helena, + has a head as hollow and sonorous as a trumpet, into which you have only + to blow some warlike or patriotic notes, and it will flourish away of + itself, without knowing why or how. More than all this, I have talked of + love affairs with a young tiger. When I told you it was lamentable to see + a man of any intelligence descend, as I have done, to all such petty ways + of connecting the thousand threads of this dark web, was I not right? Is + it not a fine spectacle to see the spider obstinately weaving its net?—to + see the ugly little black animal crossing thread upon thread, fastening it + here, strengthening it there, and again lengthening it in some other + place? You shrug your shoulders in pity; but return two hours after—what + will you find? The little black animal eating its fill, and in its web a + dozen of the foolish flies, bound so securely, that the little black + animal has only to choose the moment of its repast.” + </p> + <p> + As he uttered those words, Rodin smiled strangely; his eyes, gradually + half closed, opened to their full width, and seemed to shine more than + usual. The Jesuit felt a sort of feverish excitement, which he attributed + to the contest in which he had engaged before these eminent personages, + who already felt the influence of his original and cutting speech. + </p> + <p> + Father d’Aigrigny began to regret having entered on the contest. He + resumed, however, with ill-repressed irony: “I do not dispute the + smallness of your means. I agree with you, they are very puerile—they + are even very vulgar. But that is not quite sufficient to give an exalted + notion of your merit. May I be allowed to ask—” + </p> + <p> + “What these means have produced?” resumed Rodin, with an + excitement that was not usual with him. “Look into my spider’s + web, and you will see there the beautiful and insolent young girl, so + proud, six weeks ago, of her grace, mind, and audacity—now pale, + trembling, mortally wounded at the heart.” + </p> + <p> + “But the act of chivalrous intrepidity of the Indian prince, with + which all Paris is ringing,” said the princess, “must surely + have touched Mdlle. de Cardoville.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; but I have paralyzed the effect of that stupid and savage + devotion, by demonstrating to the young lady that it is not sufficient to + kill black panthers to prove one’s self a susceptible, delicate, and + faithful lover.” + </p> + <p> + “Be it so,” said Father d’Aigrigny; “we will admit + the fact that Mdlle. de Cardoville is wounded to the heart.” + </p> + <p> + “But what does this prove with regard to the Rennepont affair?” + asked the cardinal, with curiosity, as he leaned his elbows on the table. + </p> + <p> + “There results from it,” said Rodin, “that when our most + dangerous enemy is mortally wounded, she abandons the battlefield. That is + something, I should imagine.” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed,” said the princess, “the talents and audacity + of Mdlle. de Cardoville would make her the soul of the coalition formed + against us.” + </p> + <p> + “Be it so,” replied Father d’Aigrigny, obstinately; + “she may be no longer formidable in that respect. But the wound in + her heart will not prevent her from inheriting.” + </p> + <p> + “Who tells you so?” asked Rodin, coldly, and with assurance. + “Do you know why I have taken such pains, first to bring her in + contact with Djalma, and then to separate her from him?” + </p> + <p> + “That is what I ask you,” said Father D’Aigrigny; + “how can this storm of passion prevent Mdlle. de Cardoville and the + prince from inheriting?” + </p> + <p> + “Is it from the serene, or from the stormy sky, that darts the + destroying thunderbolt?” said Rodin, disdainfully. “Be + satisfied; I shall know where to place the conductor. As for M. Hardy, the + man lived for three things: his workmen, his friend, his mistress. He has + been thrice wounded in the heart. I always take aim at the heart; it is + legal and sure.” + </p> + <p> + “It is legal, and sure, and praiseworthy,” said the bishop; + “for, if I understand you rightly, this manufacturer had a + concubine; now it is well to make use of an evil passion for the + punishment of the wicked.” + </p> + <p> + “True, quite true,” added the cardinal; “if they have + evil passion for us to make use of it, it is their own fault.” + </p> + <p> + “Our holy Mother Perpetue,” said the princess, “took + every means to discover this abominable adultery.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, then, M. Hardy is wounded in his dearest affections, I admit,” + said Father d’Aigrigny, still disputing every inch of ground; + “ruined too in his fortune, which will only make him the more eager + after this inheritance.” + </p> + <p> + The argument appeared of weight to the two prelates and the princess; all + looked at Rodin with anxious curiosity. Instead of answering he walked up + to the sideboard, and, contrary to his habits of stoical sobriety, and in + spite of his repugnance for wine, he examined the decanters, and said: + “What is there in them?” + </p> + <p> + “Claret and sherry,” said the hostess, much astonished at the + sudden taste of Rodin, “and—” + </p> + <p> + The latter took a decanter at hazard, and poured out a glass of Madeira, + which he drank off at a draught. Just be fore he had felt a strange kind + of shivering; to this had succeeded a sort of weakness. He hoped the wine + would revive him. + </p> + <p> + After wiping his mouth with the back of his dirty hand, he returned to the + table, and said to Father d’Aigrigny: “What did you tell me + about M. Hardy?” + </p> + <p> + “That being ruined in fortune, he would be the more eager to obtain + this immense inheritance,” answered Father d’Aigrigny, + inwardly much offended at the imperious tone. + </p> + <p> + “M. Hardy think of money?” said Rodin, shrugging his + shoulders. “He is indifferent to life, plunged in a stupor from + which he only starts to burst into tears. Then he speaks with mechanical + kindness to those about him. I have placed him in good hands. He begins, + however, to be sensible to the attentions shown him, for he is good, + excellent, weak; and ii is to this excellence, Father d’Aigrigny, + that you must appeal to finish the work in hand.” + </p> + <p> + “I?” said Father d’Aigrigny, much surprised. + </p> + <p> + “Yes; and then you will find that the result I have obtained is + considerable, and—” + </p> + <p> + Rodin paused, and, pressing his hand to his forehead, said to himself: + “It is strange!” + </p> + <p> + “What is the matter?” said the princess, with interest. + </p> + <p> + “Nothing, madame,” answered Rodin, with a shiver; “it is + doubtless the wine I drank; I am not accustomed to it. I feel a slight + headache; but it will pass.” + </p> + <p> + “Your eyes are very bloodshot, my good father, said the princess. + </p> + <p> + “I have looked too closely into my web,” answered the Jesuit, + with a sinister smile; “and I must look again, to make Father d’Aigrigny, + who pretends to be blind, catch a glimpse of my other flies. The two + daughters of Marshal Simon, for instance, growing sadder and more dejected + every day, at the icy barrier raised between them and their father; and + the latter thinking himself one day dishonored if he does this, another if + he does that; so that the hero of the Empire has become weaker and more + irresolute than a child. What more remains of this impious family? Jacques + Rennepont? Ask Morok, to what a state of debasement intemperance has + reduced him, and towards what an abyss he is rushing!—There is my + occurrence-sheet; you see to what are reduced all the members of this + family, who, six weeks ago, had each elements of strength and union! + Behold these Renneponts, who, by the will of their heretical ancestor, + were to unite their forces to combat and crush our Society!—There + was good reason to fear them; but what did I say? That I would act upon + their passions. What have I done? I have acted upon their passions. At + this hour they are vainly struggling in my web—they are mine—they + are mine—” + </p> + <p> + As he was speaking, Rodin’s countenance and voice had undergone a + singular alteration; his complexion, generally so cadaverous, had become + flushed, but unequally, and in patches; then, strange phenomenon! his eyes + grew both more brilliant and more sunken, and his voice sharper and + louder. The change in the countenance of Rodin, of which he did not appear + to be conscious, was so remarkable, that the other actors in this scene + looked at him with a sort of terror. + </p> + <p> + Deceived as to the cause of this impression, Rodin exclaimed with + indignation, in a voice interrupted by deep gaspings for breath: “It + is pity for this impious race, that I read upon your faces? Pity for the + young girl, who never enters a church, and erects pagan altars in her + habitation? Pity for Hardy, the sentimental blasphemer, the philanthropic + atheist, who had no chapel in his factory, and dared to blend the names of + Socrates, Marcus, Aurelius, and Plato, with our Savior’s? Pity for + the Indian worshipper of Brahma? Pity for the two sisters, who have never + even been baptized? Pity for that brute, Jacques Rennepont? Pity for the + stupid imperial soldier, who has Napoleon for his god, and the bulletins + of the Grand Army for his gospel? Pity for this family of renegades, whose + ancestor, a relapsed heretic, not content with robbing us of our property, + excites from his tomb, at the end of a century and a half, his cursed race + to lift their heads against us? What! to defend ourselves from these + vipers, we shall not have the right to crush them in their own venom?—I + tell you, that it is to serve heaven, and to give a salutary example to + the world, to devote, by unchaining their own passions, this impious + family to grief and despair and death!” + </p> + <p> + As he spoke thus, Rodin was dreadful in his ferocity; the fire of his eyes + became still more brilliant; his lips were dry and burning, a cold sweat + bathed his temples, which could be seen throbbing; an icy shudder ran + through his frame. Attributing these symptoms to fatigue from writing + through a portion of the night, and wishing to avoid fainting, he went to + the sideboard, filled another glass with wine, which he drank off at a + draught, and returned as the cardinal said to him: “If your course + with regard to this family needed justification, my good father, your last + word would have victoriously justified it. Not only are you right, + according to your own casuists, but there is nothing in your proceedings + contrary to human laws. As for the divine law, it is pleasing to the Lord + to destroy impiety with its own weapons.” + </p> + <p> + Conquered, as well as the others, by Rodin’s diabolical assurance, + and brought back to a kind of fearful admiration, Father d’Aigrigny + said to him: “I confess I was wrong in doubting the judgment of your + reverence. Deceived by the appearance of the means employed, I could not + judge of their connection, and above all, of their results. I now see, + that, thanks to you, success is no longer doubtful.” + </p> + <p> + “This is an exaggeration,” replied Rodin, with feverish + impatience; “all these passions are at work, but the moment is + critical. As the alchemist bends over the crucible, which may give him + either treasures or sudden death—I alone at this moment—” + </p> + <p> + Rodin did not finish the sentence. He pressed both his hands to his + forehead, with a stifled cry of pain. + </p> + <p> + “What is the matter?” said Father d’Aigrigny. “For + some moments you have been growing fearfully pale.” + </p> + <p> + “I do not know ‘what is the matter,” said Rodin, in an + altered voice; “my headache increases—I am seized with a sort + of giddiness.” + </p> + <p> + “Sit down,” said the princess, with interest. + </p> + <p> + “Take something,” said the bishop. + </p> + <p> + “It will be nothing,” said Rodin, with an effort; “I am + no milksop, thank heaven!—I had little sleep last night; it is + fatigue—nothing more. I was saying, that I alone could now direct + this affair: but I cannot execute the plan myself. I must keep out of the + way, and watch in the shade: I must hold the threads, which I alone can + manage,” added Rodin, in a faint voice. + </p> + <p> + “My good father,” said the cardinal uneasily, “I assure + you that you are very unwell. Your paleness is becoming livid.” + </p> + <p> + “It is possible,” answered Rodin, courageously; “but I + am not to be so soon conquered. To return to our affair—this is the + time, in which your qualities, Father d’Aigrigny, will turn to good + account. I have never denied them, and they may now be of the greatest + use. You have the power of charming—grace—eloquence—you + must—” + </p> + <p> + Rodin paused again. A cold sweat poured from his forehead. He felt his + legs give way under him, notwithstanding his obstinate energy. + </p> + <p> + “I confess, I am not well,” he said; “yet, this morning, + I was as well as ever. I shiver. I am icy cold.” + </p> + <p> + “Draw near the fire—it is a sudden indisposition,” said + the bishop, offering his arm with heroic devotion; “it will not be + anything of consequence.” + </p> + <p> + “If you were to take something warm, a cup of tea,” said the + princess; “Dr. Baleinier will be here directly—he will + reassure us as to this—indisposition.” + </p> + <p> + “It is really inexplicable,” said the prelate. + </p> + <p> + At these words of the cardinal, Rodin, who had advanced with difficulty + towards the fire, turned his eyes upon the prelate, and looked at him + fixedly in a strange manner, for about a second; then, strong in his + unconquerable energy, notwithstanding the change in his features, which + were now visibly disfigured, Rodin said, in a broken voice, which he tried + to make firm: “The fire has warmed me; it will be nothing. I have no + time to coddle myself. It would be a pretty thing to fall ill just as the + Rennepont affair can only succeed by my exertions! Let us return to + business. I told you, Father d’Aigrigny, that you might serve us a + good deal; and you also, princess, who have espoused this cause as if it + were your own—” + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:65%;"> + <img src="images/30045m.jpg" alt="30045m” width=" /><br /> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/30045.jpg"><i>Original</i></a> + </h5> + <p> + Rodin again paused. This time he uttered a piercing cry, sank upon a chair + placed near him, and throwing himself back convulsively, he pressed his + hands to his chest, and exclaimed: “Oh! what pain!” + </p> + <p> + Then (dreadful sight!) a cadaverous decomposition, rapid as thought, took + place in Rodin’s features. His hollow eyes were filled with blood, + and seemed to shrink back in their orbits, which formed, as it were, two + dark holes, in the centre of which blazed points of fire; nervous + convulsions drew the flabby, damp, and icy skin tight over the bony + prominences of the face, which was becoming rapidly green. From the lips, + writhing with pain, issued the struggling breath, mingled with the words: + “Oh! I suffer! I burn!” + </p> + <p> + Then, yielding to a transport of fury. Rodin tore with his nails his naked + chest, for he had twisted off the buttons of his waistcoat, and rent his + black and filthy shirt-front, as if the pressure of those garments + augmented the violence of the pain under which he was writhing. The + bishop, the cardinal, and Father d’Aigrigny, hastily approached + Rodin, to try and hold him; he was seized with horrible convulsions; but, + suddenly, collecting all his strength, he rose upon his feet stiff as a + corpse. Then, with his garments in disorder, his thin, gray hair standing + up all around his greenish face, fixing his red and flaming eyes upon the + cardinal, he seized him with convulsive grasp, and exclaimed in a terrible + voice, half stifled in his throat: “Cardinal Malipieri—this + illness is too sudden—they suspect me at Rome—you are of the + race of the Borgias—and your secretary was with me this morning!” + </p> + <p> + “Unhappy man! what does he dare insinuate?” cried the prelate, + as amazed as he was indignant at the accusation. So saying, the cardinal + strove to free himself from the grasp of Rodin, whose fingers were now as + stiff as iron. + </p> + <p> + “I am poisoned!” muttered Rodin, and sinking back, he fell + into the arms of Father d’Aigrigny. + </p> + <p> + Notwithstanding his alarm, the cardinal had time to whisper to the latter: + “He thinks himself poisoned. He must therefore be plotting something + very dangerous.” + </p> + <p> + The door of the room opened. It was Dr. Baleinier. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, doctor!” cried the princess, as she ran pale and + frightened towards him; “Father Rodin has been suddenly attacked + with terrible convulsions. Quick! quick!” + </p> + <p> + “Convulsions? oh! it will be nothing, madame,” said the + doctor, throwing down his hat upon a chair, and hastily approaching the + group which surrounded the sick man. + </p> + <p> + “Here is the doctor!” cried the princess. All stepped aside, + except Father d’Aigrigny, who continued to support Rodin, leaning + against a chair. + </p> + <p> + “Heavens! what symptoms!” cried Dr. Baleinier, examining with + growing terror the countenance of Rodin, which from green was turning + blue. + </p> + <p> + “What is it?” asked all the spectators, with one voice. + </p> + <p> + “What is it?” repeated the doctor, drawing back as if he had + trodden upon a serpent. “It is the cholera! and contagious!” + </p> + <p> + On this frightful, magic word, Father d’Aigrigny abandoned his hold + of Rodin, who rolled upon the floor. + </p> + <p> + “He is lost!” cried Dr. Baleinier. “But I will run to + fetch the means for a last effort.” And he rushed towards the door. + </p> + <p> + The Princess de Saint-Dizier, Father d’Aigrigny, the bishop, and the + cardinal followed in terror the flight of Dr. Baleinier. They all pressed + to the door, which, in their consternation, they could not open. It opened + at last but from without—and Gabriel appeared upon the threshold. + Gabriel, the type of the true priest, the holy, the evangelical minister, + to whom we can never pay enough of respect and ardent sympathy, and tender + admiration. His angelic countenance, in its mild serenity, offered a + striking contrast of these faces, all disturbed and contracted with + terror. + </p> + <p> + The young priest was nearly thrown down by the fugitives, who rushed + through the now open doorway, exclaiming: “Do not go in! he is dying + of the cholera. Fly!” + </p> + <p> + On these words, pushing back the bishop, who, being the last, was trying + to force a passage, Gabriel ran towards Rodin, while the prelate succeeded + in making his escape. Rodin, stretched upon the carpet, his limbs twisted + with fearful cramps, was writhing in the extremity of pain. The violence + of his fall had, no doubt, roused him to consciousness, for he moaned, in + a sepulchral voice: “They leave me to die—like a dog—the + cowards!—Help!—no one—” + </p> + <p> + And the dying man, rolling on his back with a convulsive movement, turned + towards the ceiling a face on which was branded the infernal despair of + the damned, as he once more repeated: “No one!—not one!” + </p> + <p> + His eyes, which suddenly flamed with fury, just then met the large blue + eyes of the angelic and mild countenance of Gabriel who, kneeling beside + him, said to him, in his soft, grave tones: “I am here, father—to + help you, if help be possible—to pray for you, if God calls you to + him.” + </p> + <p> + “Gabriel!” murmured Rodin, with failing voice; “forgive + me for the evil I have done you—do not leave me—do not—” + </p> + <p> + Rodin could not finish; he had succeeded in raising himself into a sitting + posture; he now uttered a loud cry, and fell back without sense or motion. + </p> + <p> + The same day it was announced in the evening papers: “The cholera + has broken out in Paris. The first case declared itself this day, at half + past three, P.M. in the Rue de Babylone, at Saint-Dizier House.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0123" id="link2HCH0123"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XVIII. THE SQUARE OF NOTRE DAME. + </h2> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">A</span> week had passed + since Rodin was seized with the cholera, and its ravages had continually + increased. That was an awful time! A funeral pall was spread over Paris, + once so gay. And yet, never had the sky been of a more settled, purer + blue; never had the sun shone more brilliantly. The inexorable serenity of + nature, during the ravages of the deadly scourge, offered a strange and + mysterious contrast. The flaunting light of the dazzling sunshine fell + full upon the features, contracted by a thousand agonizing fears. Each + trembled for himself, or for those dear to him; every countenance was + stamped with an expression of feverish astonishment and dread. People + walked with rapid steps, as if they would escape from the fate which + threatened them; besides, they were in haste to return to their homes, for + often they left life, health, happiness, and, two hours later, they found + agony, death, and despair. + </p> + <p> + At every moment, new dismal objects met the view. Sometimes carts passed + along, filled with coffins, symmetrically piled; they stopped before every + house. Men in black and gray garments were in waiting before the door; + they held out their hands, and to some, one coffin was thrown, to some + two, frequently three or four, from the same house. It sometimes happened + that the store was quickly exhausted, and the cart, which had arrived + full, went away empty, whilst many of the dead in the street were still + unserved. In nearly every dwelling, upstairs and down, from the roof to + the cellar, there was a stunning tapping of hammers: coffins were being + nailed down, and so many, so very many were nailed, that sometimes those + who worked stopped from sheer fatigue. Then broke forth laments, + heart-rending moans, despairing imprecations. They were uttered by those + from whom the men in black and gray had taken some one to fill the + coffins. + </p> + <p> + Unceasingly were the coffins filled, and day and night did those men work, + but by day more than by night, for, as soon as it was dusk, came a gloomy + file of vehicles of all kinds—the usual hearses were not sufficient; + but cars, carts, drays, hackney-coaches, and such like, swelled the + funeral procession; different to the other conveyances, which entered the + streets full and went away empty—these came empty but soon returned + full. During that period, the windows of many houses were illuminated, and + often the lights remained burning till the morning. It was “the + season.” These illuminations resembled the gleaming rays which shine + in the gay haunts of pleasure; but there were tapers instead of wax + candles, and the chanting of prayers for the dead replaced the murmur of + the ball-room. In the streets, instead of the facetious transparencies + which indicate the costumers, there swung at intervals huge lanterns of a + blood-red color, with these words in black letters: “Assistance for + those attacked with the cholera.” The true places for revelry, + during the night, were the churchyards; they ran riot—they, usually + so desolate and silent, during the dark, quiet hours, when the cypress + trees rustle in the breeze, so lonely, that no human step dared to disturb + the solemn silence which reigned there at night, became on a sudden, + animated, noisy, riotous, and resplendent with light. By the smoky flames + of torches, which threw a red glare upon the dark fir-trees, and the white + tombstones, many grave-diggers worked merrily, humming snatches of some + favorite tune. Their laborious and hazardous industry then commanded a + very high price; they were in such request that it was necessary to humor + them. They drank often and much; they sang long and loud; and this to keep + up their strength and spirits good, absolute requisites in such an + employment. If, by chance, any did not finish the grave they had begun, + some obliging comrade finished it for them (fitting expression!), and + placed them in it with friendly care. + </p> + <p> + Other distant sounds responded to the joyous strains of the grave diggers; + public-houses had sprung up in the neighborhood of the churchyards, and + the drivers of the dead, when they had “set down their customers,” + as they jocosely expressed themselves, enriched with their unusual + gratuities, feasted and made merry like lords; dawn often found them with + a glass in their hands, and a jest on their lips; and, strange to say, + among these funeral satellites, who breathed the very atmosphere of the + disease, the mortality was scarcely perceptible. In the dark, squalid + quarters of the town, where, surrounded by infectious exhalations, the + indigent population was crowded together, and miserable beings, exhausted + by severe privation, were “bespoke” by the cholera, as it was + energetically said at the time, not only individuals, but whole families, + were carried off in a few hours; and yet, sometimes, oh, merciful + Providence! one or two little children were left in the cold and empty + room, after the father and mother, brother and sister, had been taken away + in their shells. + </p> + <p> + Frequently, houses which had swarmed with hard working laborers, were + obliged to be shut up for want of tenants; in one day, they had been + completely cleared by this terrible visitation, from the cellars, where + little chimney-sweepers slept upon straw, to the garret, on whose cold + brick floor lay stretched some wan and half-naked being, without work and + without bread. But, of all the wards of Paris, that which perhaps + presented the most frightful spectacle during the progress of the cholera, + was the City; and in the City, the square before the cathedral of + Notre-Dame was almost every day the theatre of dreadful scenes: for this + locality was frequently thronged with those who conveyed the sick from the + neighboring streets to the Great Hospital. The cholera had not one aspect, + but a thousand. So that one week after Rodin had been suddenly attacked, + several events combining the horrible and the grotesque occurred in the + square of Notre Dame. + </p> + <p> + Instead of the Rue d’Arcole, which now leads directly to the square, + it was then approached on one side, by a mean, narrow lane, like all the + other streets of the City, and terminating in a dark, low archway. Upon + entering the square the principal door of the huge Cathedral was to the + left of the spectator, and facing him were the Hospital buildings. A + little beyond, was an opening which gave to view a portion of the parapet + of the Quay Notre-Dame. A placard had been recently stuck on the + discolored and sunken wail of the archway; it contained these words, + traced in large characters.(37) + </p> + <p> + “VENGEANCE! VENGEANCE! + </p> + <p> + “The Working-men carried to the hospitals are poisoned, because the + number of patients is too great; every night, Boats filled with corpses, + drop down the Seine. + </p> + <p> + “Vengeance and Death to the murderers of the People!” + </p> + <p> + Two men, enveloped in cloaks, and half-hidden in the deep shadow of the + vault, were listening with anxious curiosity to the threatening murmur, + which rose with increasing force from among a tumultuous assembly, grouped + around the Hospital. Soon, cries of “Death to the doctors!—Vengeance!” + reached the ears of the persons who were in ambush under the arch. + </p> + <p> + “The posters are working,” said one; “the train is on + fire. When once the populace is roused, we can set them on whom we please.” + </p> + <p> + “I say,” replied the other man, “look over there. That + Hercules, whose athletic form towers above the mob, was cue of the most + frantic leaders when M. Hardy’s factory was destroyed.” + </p> + <p> + “To be sure he was; I know him again. Wherever mischief is to be + done, you are sure to find those vagabonds. + </p> + <p> + “Now, take my advice, do not let us remain under this archway,” + said the other man; “the wind is as cold as ice, and though I am + cased in flannel—” + </p> + <p> + “You are right, the cholera is confoundedly impolite. Besides, + everything is going on well here; I am likewise assured that the whole of + the Faubourg Saint-Antoine is ready to rise in the republican cause; that + will serve our ends, and our holy religion will triumph over revolutionary + impiety. Let us rejoin Father d’Aigrigny.” + </p> + <p> + “Where shall we find him?” + </p> + <p> + “Near here, come—come.” + </p> + <p> + The two hastily disappeared. + </p> + <p> + The sun, beginning to decline, shed its golden rays upon the blackened + sculptures of the porch of Notre-Dame, and upon its two massy towers, + rising in imposing majesty against a perfectly blue sky, for during the + fast few days, a north-east wind, dry and cold, had driven away the + lightest cloud. A considerable number of people, as we have already + stated, obstructed the approach to the Hospital; they crowded round the + iron railings that protect the front of the building, behind which was + stationed a detachment of infantry, the cries of “Death to the + doctors!” becoming every moment more threatening. The people who + thus vociferated. belonged to an idle, vagabond, and depraved populace—the + dregs of the Paris mob; and (terrible spectacle!) the unfortunate beings + who were forcibly carried through the midst of these hideous groups + entered the Hospital, whilst the air resounded with hoarse clamors, and + cries of “Death.” Every moment, fresh victims were brought + along in litters, and on stretchers; the litters were frequently furnished + with coarse curtains, and thus the sick occupants were concealed from the + public gaze; but the stretchers, having no covering, the convulsive + movements of the dying patients often thrust aside the sheet, and exposed + to view their faces, livid as corpses. Far from inspiring with terror the + wretches assembled round the Hospital, such spectacles became to them the + signal for savage jests, and atrocious predictions upon the fate of these + poor creatures, when once in the power of the doctors. + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:65%;"> + <img src="images/30053m.jpg" alt="30053m” width=" /><br /> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/30053.jpg"><i>Original</i></a> + </h5> + <p> + The big blaster and Ciboule, with a good many of their adherents, were + among the mob. After the destruction of Hardy’s factory, the + quarryman was formally expelled from the union of the Wolves, who would + have nothing more to do with this wretch; since then, he had plunged into + the grossest debauchery, and speculating on his herculean strength, had + hired himself as the officious champion of Ciboule and her compeers. With + the exception therefore of some chance passengers, the square of + Notre-Dame was filled with a ragged crowd, composed of the refuse of the + Parisian populace—wretches who call for pity as well as blame; for + misery, ignorance, and destitution, beget but too fatally vice and crime. + These savages of civilization felt neither pity, improvement, nor terror, + at the shocking sights with which they were surrounded; careless of a life + which was a daily struggle against hunger, or the allurements of guilt, + they braved the pestilence with infernal audacity, or sank under it with + blasphemy on their lips. + </p> + <p> + The tall form of the quarryman was conspicuous amongst the rest; with + inflamed eyes and swollen features, he yelled at the top of his voice: + “Death to the body-snatchers! they poison the people.” + </p> + <p> + “That is easier than to feed them,” added Ciboule. Then, + addressing herself to an old man, who was being carried with great + difficulty through the dense crowd, upon a chair, by two men, the hag + continued: “Hey? don’t go in there, old croaker; die here in + the open air instead of dying in that den, where you’ll be doctored + like an old rat.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” added the quarryman; “and then they’ll + throw you into the water to feast the fishes, which you won’t + swallow any more.” + </p> + <p> + At these atrocious cries, the old man looked wildly around, and uttered + faint groans. Ciboule wished to stop the persons who were carrying him, + and they had much difficulty in getting rid of the hag. The number of + cholera-patients arriving increased every moment, and soon neither litters + nor stretchers could be obtained, so that they were borne along in the + arms of the attendants. Several awful episodes bore witness to the + startling rapidity of the infection. Two men were carrying a stretcher + covered with a blood-stained sheet; one of them suddenly felt himself + attacked with the complaint; he stopped short, his powerless arms let go + the stretcher; he turned pale, staggered, fell upon the patient, becoming + as livid as him; the other man, struck with terror, fled precipitately, + leaving his companion and the dying man in the midst of the crowd. Some + drew back in horror, others burst into a savage laugh. + </p> + <p> + “The horses have taken fright,” said the quarryman, “and + have left the turn-out in the lurch.” + </p> + <p> + “Help!” cried the dying man, with a despairing accent; “for + pity’s sake take me in.” + </p> + <p> + “There’s no more room in the pit,” said one, in a + jeering tone. + </p> + <p> + “And you’ve no legs left to reach the gallery,” added + another. + </p> + <p> + The sick man made an effort to rise; but his strength failed him; he fell + back exhausted on the mattress. A sudden movement took place among the + crowd, the stretcher was overturned, the old man and his companion were + trodden underfoot, and their groans were drowned in the cries of “Death + to the body-snatchers!” The yells were renewed with fresh fury, but + the ferocious band, who respected nothing in their savage fury, were soon + after obliged to open their ranks to several workmen, who vigorously + cleared the way for two of their friends carrying in their arms a poor + artisan. He was still young, but his heavy and already livid head hung + down upon the shoulder of one of them. A little child followed, sobbing, + and holding by one of the workmen’s coats. The measured and sonorous + sound of several drums was now heard at a distance in the winding streets + of the city: they were beating the call to arms, for sedition was rife in + the Faubourg Saint-Antoine. The drummers emerged from under the archway, + and were traversing the square, when one of them, a gray-haired veteran, + suddenly slackened the rolling of his drum, and stood still: his + companions turned round in surprise—he had turned green; his legs + gave way, he stammered some unintelligible words, and had fallen upon the + pavement before those in the front rank had time to pause. The + overwhelming rapidity of this attack startled for a moment the most + hardened among the surrounding spectators; for, wondering at the + interruption, a part of the crowd had rushed towards the soldiers. + </p> + <p> + At sight of the dying man, supported in the arms of two of his comrades, + one of the individuals, who, concealed under the arch, had watched the + beginning of the popular excitement, said to the drummers: “Your + comrade drank, perhaps, at some fountain on the road?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir,” replied one; “he was very thirsty; he drank + two mouthfuls of water on the Place du Chatelet.” + </p> + <p> + “Then he is poisoned,” said the man. + </p> + <p> + “Poisoned?” cried several voices. + </p> + <p> + “It is not surprising,” replied the man, in a mysterious tone; + “poison is thrown into the public fountains; and this very morning a + man was massacred in the Rue Beaubourg who was discovered emptying a paper + of arsenic into a pot of wine at a public-house.”(38) + </p> + <p> + Having said these words, the man disappeared in the crowd. This report, no + less absurd than the tales about the poisoning of the Hospital patients, + was received with a general burst of indignation. Five or six ragged + beings, regular ruffians, seized the body of the expiring drummer, hoisted + it upon their shoulders, in spite of all the efforts of his comrades to + prevent them, and paraded the square exhibiting the dismal trophy. Ciboule + and the quarryman went before, crying: “Wake way for the corpse! + This is how they poison the people!” + </p> + <p> + A fresh incident now attracted the attention of the crowd. A travelling + carriage, which had not been able to pass along the Quai-Napoleon, the + pavement of which was up, had ventured among the intricate streets of the + city, and now arrived in the square of Notre-Dame on its way to the other + side of the Seine. Like many others, its owners were flying from Paris, to + escape the pestilence which decimated it. A man-servant and a lady’s + maid were in the rumble, and they exchanged a glance of alarm as they + passed the Hospital, whilst a young man seated in the front part of the + carriage let down the glass, and called to the postilions to go slowly, + for fear of accident, as the crowd was very dense at that part of the + square. This young man was Lord Morinval, and on the back seat were Lord + Montbron and his niece, Lady Morinval. The pale and anxious countenance of + the young lady showed the alarm which she felt; and Montbron, + notwithstanding his firmness of mind, appeared to be very uneasy; he, as + well as his niece, frequently had recourse to a smelling-bottle filled + with camphor. + </p> + <p> + During the last few minutes, the carriage had advanced very slowly, the + postilions managing their horses with great caution, when a sudden hubbub, + at first distant and undefined, but soon more distinct, arose among the + throng, as it drew near, the ringing sound of chains and metal, peculiar + to the artillery-wagons, was plainly audible, and presently one of these + vehicles came towards the travelling-carriage, from the direction of the + Quai Notre-Dame. It seemed strange, that though the crowd was so compact, + yet at the rapid approach of this wagon, the close ranks of human beings + opened as if by enchantment, but the following words which were passed + from mouth to mouth soon accounted for the prodigy: “A wagon full of + dead! the wagon of the dead!” As we have already stated, the usual + funeral conveyances were no longer sufficient for the removal of the + corpses; a number of artillery wagons had been put into requisition, and + the coffins were hastily piled in these novel hearses. + </p> + <p> + Many of the spectators regarded this gloomy vehicle with dismay, but the + quarryman and his band redoubled their horrible jokes. + </p> + <p> + “Make way for the omnibus of the departed!” cried Ciboule. + </p> + <p> + “No danger of having one’s toes crushed in that omnibus,” + said the quarryman. + </p> + <p> + “Doubtless they’re easy to please, the stiff-uns in there.” + </p> + <p> + “They never want to be set down, at all events.” + </p> + <p> + “I say, there’s only one reg’lar on duty as postilion!” + </p> + <p> + “That’s true, the leaders are driven by a man in a + smock-frock.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! I daresay the other soldier was tired, lazy fellow! and got + into the omnibus with the others—they’ll all get out at the + same big hole.” + </p> + <p> + “Head foremost, you know.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, they pitch them head first into a bed of lime.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, one might follow the dead-cart blind-fold, and no mistake. It’s + worse than Montfaucon knacker-yards!” + </p> + <p> + “Ha! ha! ha!—it’s rather gamey!” said the + quarryman, alluding to the infectious and cadaverous odor which this + funeral conveyance left behind it. + </p> + <p> + “Here’s sport!” exclaimed Ciboule: “the omnibus of + the dead will run against the fine coach. Hurrah! the rich folks will + smell death.” + </p> + <p> + Indeed, the wagon was now directly in front of the carriage, and at a very + little distance from it. A man in a smock-frock and wooden shoes drove the + two leaders, and an artilleryman the other horses. The coffins were so + piled up within this wagon, that its semicircular top did not shut down + closely, so that, as it jolted heavily over the uneven pavement, the biers + could be seen chafing against each other. The fiery eyes and inflamed + countenance of the man in the smock-frock showed that he was half + intoxicated; urging on the horses with his voice, his heels, and his whip, + he paid no attention to the remonstrances of the soldier, who had great + difficulty in restraining his own animals, and was obliged to follow the + irregular movements of the carman. Advancing in this disorderly manner, + the wagon deviated from its course just as it should have passed the + travelling-carriage, and ran against it. The shock forced open the top, + one of the coffins was thrown out, and, after damaging the panels of the + carriage, fell upon the pavement with a dull and heavy sound. The deal + planks had been hastily nailed together, and were shivered in the fall, + and from the wreck of the coffin rolled a livid corpse, half enveloped in + a shroud. + </p> + <p> + At this horrible spectacle, Lady Morinval, who had mechanically leaned + forward, gave a loud scream, and fainted. The crowd fell back in dismay; + the postilions, no less alarmed, took advantage of the space left open to + them by the retreat of the multitude; they whipped their horses, and the + carriage dashed on towards the quay. As it disappeared behind the + furthermost buildings of the Hospital, the shrill joyous notes of distant + trumpets were heard, and repeated shouts proclaimed: “The Cholera + Masquerade!” The words announced one of those episodes combining + buffoonery with terror, which marked the period when the pestilence was on + the increase, though now they can with difficulty be credited. If the + evidence of eyewitnesses did not agree in every particular with the + accounts given in the public papers of this masquerade, they might be + regarded as the ravings of some diseased brain, and not as the notice of a + fact which really occurred. + </p> + <p> + “The Masquerade of the Cholera” appeared, we say, in the + square of Notre Dame, just as Morinval’s carriage gained the quay, + after disengaging itself from the death-wagon. + </p> + <p> + (37) It is well-known that at the time of the cholera, such placards were + numerous in Paris, and were alternately attributed to opposite parties. + Among others, to the priests, many of the bishops having published + mandatory letters, or stated openly in the churches of their diocese, that + the Almighty had sent the cholera as a punishment to France for having + driven away its lawful sovereign, and assimilated the Catholic to other + forms of worship. + </p> + <p> + (38) It is notorious, that at this unhappy period several persons were + massacred, under a false accusation of poisoning the fountains, etc. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0124" id="link2HCH0124"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIX. THE CHOLERA MASQUERADE.(39) + </h2> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">A</span> stream of people, + who preceded the masquerade, made a sudden irruption through the arch into + the square, uttering loud cheers as they advanced. Children were also + there, blowing horns, whilst some hooted and others hissed. + </p> + <p> + The quarryman, Ciboule, and their band, attracted by this new spectacle, + rushed tumultuously towards the arch. Instead of the two eating-houses, + which now (1845) stand on either side of the Rue d’Arcole, there was + then only one, situated to the left of the vaulted passage, and much + celebrated amongst the joyous community of students, for the excellence + both of its cookery and its wines. At the first blare of the trumpets, + sounded by the outriders in livery who preceded the masquerade, the + windows of the great room of the eating-house were thrown open, and + several waiters, with their napkins under their arms, leaned forward, + impatient to witness the arrival of the singular guests they were + expecting. + </p> + <p> + At length, the grotesque procession made its appearance in the thick of an + immense uproar. The train comprised a chariot, escorted by men and women + on horseback, clad in rich and elegant fancy dresses. Most of these + maskers belonged to the middle and easy classes of society. The report had + spread that masquerade was in preparation, for the purpose of daring the + cholera, and, by this joyous demonstration, to revive the courage of the + affrighted populace. Immediately, artists, young men about town, students, + and so on, responded to the appeal, and though till now unknown one to the + other, they easily fraternized together. Many brought their mistresses, to + complete the show. A subscription had been opened to defray the expenses, + and, that morning, after a splendid breakfast at the other end of Paris, + the joyous troop had started bravely on their march, to finish the day by + a dinner in the square of Notre Dame. + </p> + <p> + We say bravely, for it required a singular turn of mind, a rare firmness + of character, in young women, to traverse, in this fashion, a great city + plunged in consternation and terror—to fall in at every step with + litters loaded with the dying, and carriages filled with the dead—to + defy, as it were, in a spirit of strange pleasantry, the plague that was + detonating the Parisians. It is certain that, in Paris alone, and there + only amongst a peculiar class, could such an idea have ever been conceived + or realized. Two men, grotesquely disguised as postilions at a funeral, + with formidable false noses, rose-colored crape hat-bands and large favors + of roses and crape bows at their buttonholes, rode before the vehicle. + Upon the platform of the car were groups of allegorical personages, + representing WINE, PLEASURE, LOVE, PLAY. The mission of these symbolical + beings was, by means of jokes, sarcasms, and mockeries, to plague the life + out of Goodman Cholera, a sort of funeral and burlesque Cassander, whom + they ridiculed and made game of in a hundred ways. The moral of the play + was this: “To brave Cholera in security, let us drink, laugh, game, + and make love!” + </p> + <p> + WINE was represented by a huge, lusty Silenus, thick-set, and with swollen + paunch, a crown of ivy on his brow, a panther’s skin across his + shoulder, and in his hand a large gilt goblet, wreathed with flowers. None + other than Ninny Moulin, the famous moral and religious writer, could have + exhibited to the astonished and delighted spectators an ear of so deep a + scarlet, so majestic an abdomen, and a face of such triumphant and + majestic fulness. Every moment, Ninny Moulin appeared to empty his cup—after + which he burst out laughing in the face of Goodman Cholera. Goodman + Cholera, a cadaverous pantaloon, was half-enveloped in a shroud; his mask + of greenish cardboard, with red, hollow eyes, seemed every moment to grin + as in mockery of death; from beneath his powdered peruke, surmounted by a + pyramidical cotton night-cap, appeared his neck and arm, dyed of a bright + green color; his lean hand, which shook almost always with a feverish + trembling (not feigned, but natural), rested upon a crutch-handled cane; + finally, as was becoming in a pantaloon, he wore red stockings, with + buckles at the knees, and high slippers of black beaver. This grotesque + representative of the cholera was Sleepinbuff. + </p> + <p> + Notwithstanding a slow and dangerous fever, caused by the excessive use of + brandy, and by constant debauchery, that was silently undermining his + constitution, Jacques Rennepont had been induced by Morok to join the + masquerade. The brute-tamer himself, dressed as the King of Diamonds, + represented PLAY. His forehead was adorned with a diadem of gilded paper, + his face was pale and impassible, and as his long, yellow beard fell down + the front of his parti-colored robe, Morok looked exactly the character he + personated. From time to time, with an air of grave mockery, he shook + close to the eyes of Goodman Cholera a large bag full of sounding + counters, and on this bag were painted all sorts of playing cards. A + certain stiffness in the right arm showed that the lion-tamer had not yet + quite recovered from the effects of the wound which the panther had + inflicted before being stabbed by Djalma. + </p> + <p> + PLEASURE, who also represented Laughter, classically shook her rattle, + with its sonorous gilded bells, close to the ears of Goodman Cholera. She + was a quick, lively young girl, and her fine black hair was crowned with a + scarlet cap of liberty. For Sleepinbuff’s sake, she had taken the + place of the poor Bacchanal queen, who would not have failed to attend on + such an occasion—she, who had been so valiant and gay, when she bore + her part in a less philosophical, but not less amusing masquerade. Another + pretty creature, Modeste Bornichoux, who served as a model to a painter of + renown (one of the cavaliers of the procession), was eminently successful + in her representation of LOVE. He could not have had a more charming face, + and more graceful form. Clad in a light blue spangled tunic, with a blue + and silver band across her chestnut hair, and little transparent wings + affixed to her white shoulders, she placed one forefinger upon the other, + and pointed with the prettiest impertinence at Goodman Cholera. Around the + principal group, other maskers, more or less grotesque in appearance, + waved each a banner, an which were inscriptions of a very anacreontic + character, considering the circumstances: + </p> + <p> + “Down with the Cholera!” “Short and sweet!” + “Laugh away, laugh always!” “We’ll collar the + Cholera!” “Love forever!” “Wine forever!” + “Come if you dare, old terror!” + </p> + <p> + There was really such audacious gayety in this masquerade, that the + greater number of the spectators, at the moment when it crossed the + square, in the direction of the eating-house, where dinner was waiting, + applauded it loudly and repeatedly. This sort of admiration, which + courage, however mad and blind, almost always inspires, appeared to others + (a small number, it must be confessed) a kind of defiance to the wrath of + heaven; and these received the procession with angry murmurs. This + extraordinary spectacle, and the different impressions it produced, were + too remote from all customary facts to admit of a just appreciation. We + hardly know if this daring bravado was deserving of praise or blame. + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:65%;"> + <img src="images/30061m.jpg" alt="30061m” width=" /><br /> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/30061.jpg"><i>Original</i></a> + </h5> + <p> + Besides, the appearance of those plagues, which from age to age decimate + the population of whole countries, has almost always been accompanied by a + sort of mental excitement, which none of those who have been spared by the + contagion can hope to escape. It is a strange fever of the mind, which + sometimes rouses the most stupid prejudices and the most ferocious + passions, and sometimes inspires, on the contrary, the most magnificent + devotion, the most courageous actions—with some, driving the fear of + death to a point of the wildest terror—with others, exciting the + contempt of life to express itself in the most audacious bravadoes. Caring + little for the praise or blame it might deserve, the masquerade arrived + before the eating-house, and made its entry in the midst of universal + acclamations. Everything seemed to combine to give full effect to this + strange scene, by the opposition of the most singular contrasts. Thus the + tavern, in which was to be held this extraordinary feast, being situated + at no great distance from the antique cathedral, and the gloomy hospital, + the religious anthems of the ancient temple, the cries of the dying, and + the bacchanalian songs of the banqueteers, must needs mingle, and by turns + drown one another. The maskers now got down from their chariot, and from + their horses, and went to take their places at the repast, which was + waiting for them. The actors in the masquerade are at table in the great + room of the tavern. They are joyous, noisy, even riotous. Yet their gayety + has a strange tone, peculiar to itself. + </p> + <p> + Sometimes, the most resolute involuntarily remember that their life is at + stake in this mad and audacious game with destiny. That fatal thought is + rapid as the icy fever-shudder, which chills you in an instant; therefore, + from time to time, an abrupt silence, lasting indeed only for a second, + betrays these passing emotions which are almost immediately effaced by new + bursts of joyful acclamation, for each one says to himself: “No + weakness! my chum and my girl are looking at me!” + </p> + <p> + And all laugh, and knock glasses together, and challenge the next man, and + drink out of the glass of the nearest woman. Jacques had taken off the + mask and peruke of Goodman Cholera. His thin, leaden features, his deadly + paleness, the lurid brilliancy of his hollow eyes, showed the incessant + progress of the slow malady which was consuming this unfortunate man, + brought by excesses to the last extremity of weakness. Though he felt the + slow fire devouring his entrails, he concealed his pain beneath a forced + and nervous smile. + </p> + <p> + To the left of Jacques was Morok, whose fatal influence was ever on the + increase, and to his right the girl disguised as PLEASURE. She was named + Mariette. By her side sat Ninny Moulin, in all his majestic bulk, who + often pretended to be looking for his napkin under the table, in order to + have the opportunity of pressing the knees of his other neighbor, Modeste, + the representative of LOVE. Most of the guests were grouped according to + their several tastes, each tender pair together, and the bachelors where + they could. They had reached the second course, and the excellence of the + wine, the good cheer, the gay speeches, and even the singularity of the + occasion, had raised their spirits to a high degree of excitement, as may + be gathered from the extraordinary incidents of the following scene. + </p> + <p> + (39) We read in the Constitutionnel, Saturday March 31st, 1832: “The + Parisians readily conform to that part of the official instructions with + regard to the cholera, which prescribes, as a preservation from the + disease, not to be afraid, to amuse one’s self, etc. The pleasures + of Mid-Lent have been as brilliant and as mad as those of the carnival + itself. For a long time past there had not been so many balls at this + period of the year. Even the cholera has been made the subject of an + itinerant caricature.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0125" id="link2HCH0125"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XX. THE DEFIANCE. + </h2> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>wo or three times, + without being remarked by the guests, one of the waiters had come to + whisper to his fellows, and point with expressive gesture to the ceiling. + But his comrades had taken small account of his observations or fears, not + wishing, doubtless, to disturb the guests, whose mad gayety seemed ever on + the increase. + </p> + <p> + “Who can doubt now of the superiority of our manner of treating this + impertinent Cholera? Has he dared even to touch our sacred battalion?” + said a magnificent mountebank-Turk, one of the standard-bearers of the + masquerade. + </p> + <p> + “Here is all the mystery,” answered another. “It is very + simple. Only laugh in the face of the plague, and it will run away from + you.” + </p> + <p> + “And right enough too, for very stupid work it does,” added a + pretty little Columbine, emptying her glass. + </p> + <p> + “You are right, my darling; it is intolerably stupid work,” + answered the Clown belonging to the Columbine; “here you are very + quiet, enjoying life, and all on a sudden you die with an atrocious + grimace. Well! what then? Clever, isn’t it? I ask you, what does it + prove?” + </p> + <p> + “It proves,” replied an illustrious painter of the romantic + school, disguised like a Roman out of one of David’s pictures, + “it proves that the Cholera is a wretched colorist, for he has + nothing but a dirty green on his pallet. Evidently he is a pupil of + Jacobus, that king of classical painters, who are another species of + plagues.” + </p> + <p> + “And yet, master,” added respectfully a pupil of the great + painter, “I have seen some cholera patients whose convulsions were + rather fine, and their dying looks first-rate!” + </p> + <p> + “Gentlemen,” cried a sculptor of no less celebrity, “the + question lies in a nutshell. The Cholera is a detestable colorist, but a + good draughtsman. He shows you the skeleton in no time. By heaven! how he + strips off the flesh!—Michael Angelo would be nothing to him.” + </p> + <p> + “True,” cried they all, with one voice; “the Cholera is + a bad colorist, but a good draughtsman.” + </p> + <p> + “Moreover, gentlemen,” added Ninny Moulin, with comic gravity, + “this plague brings with it a providential lesson, as the great + Bossuet would have said.” + </p> + <p> + “The lesson! the lesson!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, gentlemen; I seem to hear a voice from above, proclaiming: + ‘Drink of the best, empty your purse, and kiss your neighbor’s + wife; for your hours are perhaps numbered, unhappy wretch!’” + </p> + <p> + So saying, the orthodox Silenus took advantage of a momentary absence of + mind on the part of Modeste, his neighbor, to imprint on the blooming + cheek of LOVE a long, loud kiss. The example was contagious, and a storm + of kisses was mingled with bursts of laughter. + </p> + <p> + “Ha! blood and thunder!” cried the great painter as he gayly + threatened Ninny Moulin; “you are very lucky that to-morrow will + perhaps be the end of the world, or else I should pick a quarrel with you + for having kissed my lovely LOVE.” + </p> + <p> + “Which proves to you, O Rubens! O Raphael! the thousand advantages + of the Cholera, whom I declare to be essentially sociable and caressing.” + </p> + <p> + “And philanthropic,” said one of the guests; “thanks to + him, creditors take care of the health of their debtors. This morning a + usurer, who feels a particular interest in my existence, brought me all + sorts of anti-choleraic drugs, and begged me to make use of them.” + </p> + <p> + “And I!” said the pupil of the great painter. “My tailor + wished to force me to wear a flannel band next to the skin, because I owe + him a thousand crowns. But I answered ‘Oh, tailor, give me a receipt + in full, and I will wrap myself up in flannel, to preserve you my custom!’” + </p> + <p> + “O Cholera, I drink to thee!” said Ninny Moulin, by way of + grotesque invocation. “You are not Despair; on the contrary, you are + the emblem of Hope—yes, of hope. How many husbands, how many wives, + longed for a number (alas! too uncertain chance) in the lottery of + widowhood! You appear, and their hearts are gladdened. Thanks to you, + benevolent pest! their chances of liberty are increased a hundredfold.” + </p> + <p> + “And how grateful heirs ought to be! A cold—a heat—a + trifle—and there, in an hour, some old uncle becomes a revered + benefactor!” + </p> + <p> + “And those who are always looking out for other people’s + places—what an ally they must find in the Cholera!” + </p> + <p> + “And how true it will make many vows of constancy!” said + Modeste, sentimentally. “How many villains have sworn to a poor, + weak woman, to love her all their lives, who never meant (the wretches!) + to keep their word so well!” + </p> + <p> + “Gentlemen,” cried Ninny Moulin, “since we are now, + perhaps, at the eve of the end of the world, as yonder celebrated painter + has expressed it, I propose to play the world topsy-turvy: I beg these + ladies to make advances to us, to tease us, to excite us, to steal kisses + from us, to take all sorts of liberties with us, and (we shall not die of + it) even to insult us. Yes, I declare that I will allow myself to be + insulted. So, LOVE, you may offer me the greatest insult that can be + offered to a virtuous and modest bachelor,” added the religious + writer, leaning over towards his neighbor, who repulsed him with peals of + laughter; and the proposal of Ninny Moulin being received with general + hilarity, a new impulse was given to the mirth and riot. + </p> + <p> + In the midst of the uproar, the waiter, who had before entered the room + several times, to whisper uneasily to his comrades, whilst he pointed to + the ceiling, again appeared with a pale and agitated countenance; + approaching the man who performed the office of butler, he said to him, in + a low voice, tremulous with emotion: “They are come!” + </p> + <p> + “Who?” + </p> + <p> + “You know—up there”; and he pointed to the ceiling. + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” said the butler, becoming thoughtful; “where are + they?” + </p> + <p> + “They have just gone upstairs; they are there now,” answered + the waiter, shaking his head with an air of alarm; “yes, they are + there!” + </p> + <p> + “What does master say?” + </p> + <p> + “He is very vexed, because—” and the waiter glanced + round at the guests. “He does not know what to do; he has sent me to + you.” + </p> + <p> + “What the devil have I to do with it?” said the other; wiping + his forehead. “It was to be expected, and cannot be helped.” + </p> + <p> + “I will not remain here till they begin.” + </p> + <p> + “You may as well go, for your long face already attracts attention. + Tell master we must wait for the upshot.” + </p> + <p> + The above incident was scarcely perceived in the midst of the growing + tumult of the joyous feast. But, among the guests, one alone laughed not, + drank not. This was Jacques. With fixed and lurid eye, he gazed upon + vacancy. A stranger to what was passing around him, the unhappy man + thought of the Bacchanal Queen, who had been so gay and brilliant in the + midst of similar saturnalia. The remembrance of that one being, whom he + still loved with an extravagant love, was the only thought that from time + to time roused him from his besotted state. + </p> + <p> + It is strange, but Jacques had only consented to join this masquerade + because the mad scene reminded him of the merry day he had spent with + Cephyse—that famous breakfast, after a night of dancing, in which + the Bacchanal Queen, from some extraordinary presentiment, had proposed a + lugubrious toast with regard to this very pestilence, which was then + reported to be approaching France. “To the Cholera!” had she + said. “Let him spare those who wish to live, and kill at the same + moment those who dread to part!” + </p> + <p> + And now, at this time, remembering those mournful words, Jacques was + absorbed in painful thought. Morok perceived his absence of mind, and said + aloud to him, “You have given over drinking, Jacques. Have you had + enough wine? Then you will want brandy. I will send for some.” + </p> + <p> + “I want neither wine nor brandy,” answered Jacques, abruptly, + and he fell back into a sombre reverie. + </p> + <p> + “Well, you may be right,” resumed Morok, in a sardonic tone, + and raising his voice still higher. “You do well to take care of + yourself. I was wrong to name brandy in these times. There would be as + much temerity in facing a bottle of brandy as the barrel of a loaded + pistol.” + </p> + <p> + On hearing his courage as a toper called in question, Sleepinbuff looked + angrily at Morok. “You think it is from cowardice that I will not + drink brandy!” cried the unfortunate man, whose half-extinguished + intellect was roused to defend what he called his dignity. “Is it + from cowardice that I refuse, d’ye think, Morok? Answer me!” + </p> + <p> + “Come, my good fellow, we have all shown our pluck today,” + said one of the guests to Jacques; “you, above all, who, being + rather indisposed, yet had the courage to take the part of Goodman + Cholera.” + </p> + <p> + “Gentlemen,” resumed Morok, seeing the general attention fixed + upon himself and Sleepinbuff, “I was only joking; for if my comrade + (pointing to Jacques) had the imprudence to accept my offer, it would be + an act, not of courage, but of foolhardiness. Luckily, he has sense enough + to renounce a piece of boasting so dangerous at this time, and I—” + </p> + <p> + “Waiter!” cried Jacques, interrupting Morok with angry + impatience, “two bottles of brandy, and two glasses!” + </p> + <p> + “What are you going to do?” said Morok, with pretended + uneasiness. “Why do you order two bottles of brandy?” + </p> + <p> + “For a duel,” said Jacques, in a cool, resolute tone. + </p> + <p> + “A duel!” cried the spectators, in surprise. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” resumed Jacques, “a duel with brandy. You pretend + there is as much danger in facing a bottle of brandy as a loaded pistol; + let us each take a full bottle, and see who will be the first to cry + quarter.” + </p> + <p> + This strange proposition was received by some with shouts of joy, and by + others with genuine uneasiness. + </p> + <p> + “Bravo! the champions of the bottle!” cried the first. + </p> + <p> + “No, no; there would be too much danger in such a contest,” + said the others. + </p> + <p> + “Just now,” added one of the guests; “this challenge is + as serious as an invitation to fight to the death.” + </p> + <p> + “You hear,” said Morok, with a diabolical smile, “you + hear, Jacques? Will you now retreat before the danger?” + </p> + <p> + At these words, which reminded him of the peril to which he was about to + expose himself, Jacques started, as if a sudden idea had occurred to him. + He raised his head proudly, his cheeks were slightly flushed, his eye + shone with a kind of gloomy satisfaction, and he exclaimed in a firm + voice: “Hang it, waiter! are you deaf? I asked you for two bottles + of brandy.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir,” said the waiter, going to fetch them, although + himself frightened at what might be the result of this bacchanalian + struggle. But the mad and perilous resolution of Jacques was applauded by + the majority. + </p> + <p> + Ninny Moulin moved about on his chair, stamped his feet, and shouted with + all his might: “Bacchus and drink! bottles and glasses! the throats + are dry! brandy to the rescue! Largess! largess!” + </p> + <p> + And, like a true champion of the tournament, he embraced Modeste, adding, + to excuse the liberty: “Love, you shall be the Queen of Beauty, and + I am only anticipating the victor’s happiness!” + </p> + <p> + “Brandy to the rescue!” repeated they all, in chorus. “Largess!” + </p> + <p> + “Gentlemen,” added Ninny Moulin, with enthusiasm, “shall + we remain indifferent to the noble example set us by Goodman Cholera? He + said in his pride, ‘brandy!’ Let us gloriously answer, ‘punch!’” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes! punch!” + </p> + <p> + “Punch to the rescue!” + </p> + <p> + “Waiter!” shouted the religious writer, with the voice of a + Stentor, “waiter! have you a pan, a caldron, a hogshead, or any + other immensity, in which we can brew a monster punch?” + </p> + <p> + “A Babylonian punch!” + </p> + <p> + “A lake of punch!” + </p> + <p> + “An ocean of punch!” + </p> + <p> + Such was the ambitious crescendo that followed the proposition of Ninny + Moulin. + </p> + <p> + “Sir,” answered the waiter, with an air of triumph, “we + just happen to have a large copper caldron, quite new. It has been used, + and would hold at least thirty bottles.” + </p> + <p> + “Bring the caldron!” said Ninny Moulin, majestically. + </p> + <p> + “The caldron forever!” shouted the chorus. + </p> + <p> + “Put in twenty bottles of brandy, six loaves of sugar, a dozen + lemons, a pound of cinnamon, and then—fire! fire!” shouted the + religious writer, with the most vociferous exclamations. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes! fire!” repeated the chorus! + </p> + <p> + The proposition of Ninny Moulin gave a new impetus to the general gayety; + the most extravagant remarks were mingled with the sound of kisses, taken + or given under the pretext that perhaps there would be no to-morrow, that + one must make the most of the present, etc., etc. Suddenly, in one of the + moments of silence which sometimes occur in the midst of the greatest + tumult, a succession of slow and measured taps sounded above the ceiling + of the banqueting-room. All remained silent, and listened. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0126" id="link2HCH0126"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXI. BRANDY TO THE RESCUE. + </h2> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">A</span>fter the lapse of + some seconds, the singular rapping which had so much surprised the guests, + was again heard, but this time louder and longer. + </p> + <p> + “Waiter!” cried one of the party, “what in the devil’s + name is knocking?” + </p> + <p> + The waiter, exchanging with his comrades a look of uneasiness and alarm, + stammered Out in reply: “Sir—it is—it is—” + </p> + <p> + “Well! I suppose it is some crabbed, cross-grained lodger, some + animal, the enemy of joy, who is pounding on the floor of his room to warn + us to sing less loud,” said Ninny Moulin. + </p> + <p> + “Then, by a general rule,” answered sententiously the pupil of + the great painter, “if lodger or landlord ask for silence, tradition + bids us reply by an infernal uproar, destined to drown all his + remonstrances. Such, at least,” added the scapegrace, modestly, + “are the foreign relations that I have always seen observed between + neighboring powers.” + </p> + <p> + This remark was received with general laughter and applause. During the + tumult, Morok questioned one of the waiters, and then exclaimed in a + shrill tone, which rose above the clamor: “I demand a hearing!” + </p> + <p> + “Granted!” cried the others, gayly. During the silence which + followed the exclamation of Morok, the noise was again heard; it was this + time quicker than before. + </p> + <p> + “The lodger is innocent,” said Morok, with a strange smile, + “and would be quite incapable of interfering with your enjoyment.” + </p> + <p> + “Then why does he keep up that knocking?” said Ninny Moulin, + emptying his glass. + </p> + <p> + “Like a deaf man who has lost his ear-horn?” added the young + artist. + </p> + <p> + “It is not the lodger who is knocking” said Morok, in a sharp, + quick tone; “for they are nailing him down in his coffin.” A + sudden and mournful silence followed these words. + </p> + <p> + “His coffin no, I am wrong,” resumed Morok; “her coffin, + I should say, or more properly their coffin; for, in these pressing times, + they put mother and child together.” + </p> + <p> + “A woman!” cried PLEASURE, addressing the writer; “is it + a woman that is dead?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, ma’am; a poor young woman about twenty years of age,” + answered the waiter in a sorrowful tone. “Her little girl, that she + was nursing, died soon after—all in less than two hours. My master + is very sorry that you ladies and gents should be disturbed in this way; + but he could not foresee this misfortune, as yesterday morning the young + woman was quite well, and singing with all her might—no one could + have been gayer than she was.” + </p> + <p> + Upon these words, it was as if a funeral pall had been suddenly thrown + over a scene lately so full of joy; all the rubicund and jovial faces took + an expression of sadness; no one had the hardihood to make a jest of + mother and child, nailed down together in the same coffin. The silence + became so profound, that one could hear each breath oppressed by terror: + the last blows of the hammer seemed to strike painfully on every heart; it + appeared as if each sad feeling, until now repressed, was about to replace + that animation and gayety, which had been more factitious than sincere. + The moment was decisive. It was necessary to strike an immediate blow, and + to raise the spirits of the guests, for many pretty rosy faces began to + grow pale, many scarlet ears became suddenly white; Ninny Moulin’s + were of the number. + </p> + <p> + On the contrary, Sleepinbuff exhibited an increase of audacity; he drew up + his figure, bent down from the effects of exhaustion, and, with a cheek + slightly flushed, he exclaimed: “Well, waiter? are those bottles of + brandy coming? And the punch? Devil and all! are the dead to frighten the + living?” + </p> + <p> + “He’s right! Down with sorrow, and let’s have the punch!” + cried several of the guests, who felt the necessity of reviving their + courage. + </p> + <p> + “Forward, punch!” + </p> + <p> + “Begone, dull care!” + </p> + <p> + “Jollity forever!” + </p> + <p> + “Gentlemen, here is the punch,” said a waiter, opening the + door. At sight of the flaming beverage, which was to reanimate their + enfeebled spirits, the room rang with the loudest applause. + </p> + <p> + The sun had just set. The room was large, being capable of dining a + hundred guests; and the windows were few, narrow, and half veiled by red + cotton curtains. Though it was not yet night, some portions of this vast + saloon were almost entirely dark. Two waiters brought the monster-punch, + in an immense brass kettle, brilliant as gold, suspended from an iron bar, + and crowned with flames of changing color. The burning beverage was then + placed upon the table, to the great joy of the guests, who began to forget + their past alarms. + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:65%;"> + <img src="images/30071m.jpg" alt="30071m” width=" /><br /> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/30071.jpg"><i>Original</i></a> + </h5> + <p> + “Now,” said Jacques to Morok, in a taunting tone, “while + the punch is burning, we will have our duel. The company shall judge.” + Then, pointing to the two bottles of brandy, which the waiter had brought, + Jacques added: “Choose your weapon!” + </p> + <p> + “Do you choose,” answered Morok. + </p> + <p> + “Well! here’s your bottle—and here’s your glass. + Ninny Moulin shall be umpire.” + </p> + <p> + “I do not refuse to be judge of the field,” answered the + religious writer, “only I must warn you, comrade, that you are + playing a desperate game, and that just now, as one of these gentlemen has + said, the neck of a bottle of brandy in one’s mouth, is perhaps more + dangerous than the barrel of a loaded pistol.” + </p> + <p> + “Give the word, old fellow!” said Jacques, interrupting Ninny + Moulin, “or I will give it myself.” + </p> + <p> + “Since you will have it so—so be it!” + </p> + <p> + “The first who gives in is conquered,” said Jacques. + </p> + <p> + “Agreed!” answered Morok. + </p> + <p> + “Come, gentlemen, attention! we must follow every movement,” + resumed Ninny Moulin. “Let us first see if the bottles are of the + same size—equality of weapons being the foremost condition.” + </p> + <p> + During these preparations, profound silence reigned in the room. The + courage of the majority of those present, animated for a moment by the + arrival of the punch, was soon again depressed by gloomy thoughts, as they + vaguely foresaw the danger of the contest between Morok and Jacques. This + impression joined to the sad thoughts occasioned by the incident of the + coffin, darkened by degrees many a countenance. Some of the guests, + indeed, continued to make a show of rejoicing, but their gayety appeared + forced. Under certain circumstances, the smallest things will have the + most powerful effect. We have said that, after sunset, a portion of this + large room was plunged in obscurity; therefore, the guests who sat in the + remote corners of the apartment, had no other light than the reflection of + the flaming punch. Now it is well known, that the flame of burning spirit + throws a livid, bluish tint over the countenance; it was therefore a + strange, almost frightful spectacle, to see a number of the guests, who + happened to be at a distance from the windows, in this ghastly and + fantastic light. + </p> + <p> + The painter, more struck than all the rest by this effect of color, + exclaimed: “Look! at this end of the table, we might fancy ourselves + feasting with cholera-patients, we are such fine blues and greens.” + </p> + <p> + This jest was not much relished. Fortunately, the loud voice of Ninny + Moulin demanded attention, and for a moment turned the thoughts of the + company. + </p> + <p> + “The lists are open,” cried the religious writer, really more + frightened than he chose to appear. “Are you ready, brave champions?” + he added. + </p> + <p> + “We are ready,” said Morok and Jacques. + </p> + <p> + “Present! fire!” cried Ninny Moulin, clapping his hands. And + the two drinkers each emptied a tumbler full of brandy at a draught. + </p> + <p> + Morok did not even knit his brow; his marble face remained impassible; + with a steady hand he replaced his glass upon the table. But Jacques, as + he put down his glass, could not conceal a slight convulsive trembling, + caused by internal suffering. + </p> + <p> + “Bravely done!” cried Ninny Moulin. “The quarter of a + bottle of brandy at a draught—it is glorious! No one else here would + be capable of such prowess. And now, worthy champions, if you believe me, + you will stop where you are.” + </p> + <p> + “Give the word!” answered Jacques, intrepidly. And, with + feverish and shaking hand, he seized the bottle; then suddenly, instead of + filling his glass, he said to Morok: “Bah! we want no glasses. It is + braver to drink from the bottle. I dare you to it!” + </p> + <p> + Morok’s only answer was to shrug his shoulders, and raise the neck + of the bottle to his lips. Jacques hastened to imitate him. The thin, + yellowish, transparent glass gave a perfect view of the progressive + diminution of the liquor. The stony countenance of Morok, and the pale + thin face of Jacques, on which already stood large drops of cold sweat, + were now, as well as the features of the other guests, illuminated by the + bluish light of the punch; every eye was fixed upon Morok and Jacques, + with that barbarous curiosity which cruel spectacles seem involuntarily to + inspire. + </p> + <p> + Jacques continued to drink, holding the bottle in his left hand; suddenly, + he closed and tightened the fingers of his right hand with a convulsive + movement; his hair clung to his icy forehead, and his countenance revealed + an agony of pain. Yet he continued to drink; only, without removing his + lips from the neck of the bottle, he lowered it for an instant, as if to + recover breath. Just then, Jacques met the sardonic look of Morok, who + continued to drink with his accustomed impassibility. Thinking that he saw + the expression of insulting triumph in Morok’s glance, Jacques + raised his elbow abruptly, and drank with avidity a few drops more. But + his strength was exhausted. A quenchless fire devoured his vitals. His + sufferings were too intense, and he could no longer bear up against them. + His head fell backwards, his jaws closed convulsively, he crushed the neck + of the bottle between his teeth, his neck grew rigid, his limbs writhed + with spasmodic action, and he became almost senseless. + </p> + <p> + “Jacques, my good fellow! it is nothing,” cried Morok, whose + ferocious glance now sparkled with diabolical joy. Then, replacing his + bottle on the table, he rose to go to the aid of Ninny Moulin, who was + vainly endeavoring to hold Sleepinbuff. + </p> + <p> + This sudden attack had none of the symptoms of cholera. Yet terror seized + upon all present; one of the women was taken with hysterics, and another + uttered piercing cries and fainted away. Ninny Moulin, leaving Jacques in + the hands of Morok, ran towards the door to seek for help,—when that + door was suddenly opened, and the religious writer drew back in alarm, at + the sight of the unexpected personage who appeared on the threshold. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0127" id="link2HCH0127"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXII. MEMORIES. + </h2> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>he person before + whom Ninny Moulin stopped in such extreme astonishment was the Bacchanal + Queen. + </p> + <p> + Pale and wan, with, hair in disorder, hollow cheeks, sunken eyes, and + clothed almost in rags, this brilliant and joyous heroine of so many mad + orgies was now only the shadow of her former self. Misery and grief were + impressed on that countenance, once so charming. Hardly had she entered + the room, when Cephyse paused; her mournful and unquiet gaze strove to + penetrate the half-obscurity of the apartment, in search of him she longed + to see. Suddenly the girl started, and uttered a loud scream. She had just + perceived, at the other side of a long table, by the bluish light of the + punch, Jacques struggling with Morok and one of the guests, who were + hardly able to restrain his convulsive movements. + </p> + <p> + At this sight Cephyse, in her first alarm, carried away by her affection, + did what she had so often done in the intoxication of joy and pleasure. + Light and agile, instead of losing precious time in making a long circuit, + she sprang at once upon the table, passed nimbly through the array of + plates and bottles, and with one spring was by the side of the sufferer. + </p> + <p> + “Jacques!” she exclaimed, without yet remarking the + lion-tamer, and throwing herself on the neck of her lover. “Jacques! + it is I—Cephyse!” + </p> + <p> + That well-known voice, that heart-piercing cry, which came from the bottom + of the soul, seemed not unheard by Sleepinbuff. He turned his head + mechanically towards the Bacchanal Queen, without opening his eyes, and + heaved a deep sigh; his stiffened limbs relaxed, a slight trembling + succeeded to the convulsions, and in a few seconds his heavy eyelids were + raised with an effort, so as to uncover his dull and wandering gaze. Mute + with astonishment, the spectators of this scene felt an uneasy curiosity. + Cephyse, kneeling beside her lover, bathed his hands in her tears, covered + them with kisses, and exclaimed, in a voice broken by sobs, “It is I—Cephyse—I + have found you again—it was not my fault that I abandoned you! + Forgive me, forgive—” + </p> + <p> + “Wretched woman!” cried Morok, irritated at this meeting, + which might, perhaps, be fatal to his projects; “do you wish to kill + him? In his present state, this agitation is death. Begone!” So + saying, he seized Cephyse suddenly by the arm, just as Jacques, waking, as + it were, from a painful dream, began to distinguish what was passing + around him. + </p> + <p> + “You! It is you!” cried the Bacchanal Queen, in amazement, as + she recognized Morok, “who separated me from Jacques!” + </p> + <p> + She paused; for the dim eye of the victim, as it rested upon her, grew + suddenly bright. + </p> + <p> + “Cephyse!” murmured Jacques; “is it you?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, it is I,” answered she, in a voice of deep emotion; + “who have come—I will tell you—” + </p> + <p> + She was unable to continue, and, as she clasped her hands together, her + pale, agitated, tearful countenance expressed her astonishment and despair + at the mortal change which had taken place in the features of Jacques. He + understood the cause of her surprise, and as he contemplated, in his turn, + the suffering and emaciated countenance of Cephyse, he said to her, + “Poor girl! you also have had to bear much grief, much misery—I + should hardly have known you.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” replied Cephyse, “much grief—much misery—and + worse than misery,” she added, trembling, whilst a deep blush + overspread her pale features. + </p> + <p> + “Worse than misery?” said Jacques, astonished. + </p> + <p> + “But it is you who have suffered,” hastily resumed Cephyse, + without answering her lover. + </p> + <p> + “Just now, I was going to make an end of it—your voice has + recalled me for an instant—but I feel something here,” and he + laid his hand upon his breast, “which never gives quarter. It is all + the same now—I have seen you—I shall die happy.” + </p> + <p> + “You shall not die, Jacques; I am here—” + </p> + <p> + “Listen to one, my girl. If I had a bushel of live coal in my + stomach, it could hardly burn me more. For more than a month, I have been + consuming my body by a slow fire. This gentleman,” he added, + glancing at Morok, “this dear friend, always undertook to feed the + flame. I do not regret life; I have lost the habit of work, and taken to + drink and riot; I should have finished by becoming a thorough blackguard: + I preferred that my friend here should amuse himself with lighting a + furnace in my inside. Since what I drank just now, I am certain that it + fumes like yonder punch.” + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:65%;"> + <img src="images/30077m.jpg" alt="30077m” width=" /><br /> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/30077.jpg"><i>Original</i></a> + </h5> + <p> + “You are both foolish and ungrateful,” said Morok, shrugging + his shoulders; “you held out your glass, and I filled it—and, + faith, we shall drink long and often together yet.” + </p> + <p> + For some moments, Cephyse had not withdrawn her eyes from Morok. “I + tell you, that you have long blown the fire, in which I have burnt my + skin,” resumed Jacques, addressing Morok in a feeble voice, “so + that they may not think I die of cholera. It would look as if I had been + frightened by the part I played. I do not therefore reproach you, my + affectionate friend,” added he, with a sardonic smile; “you + dug my grave gayly—and sometimes, when, seeing the great dark hole, + into which I was about to fall, I drew back a step—but you, my + excellent friend, still pushed me forward, saying, ‘Go on, my boy, + go on!’—and I went on—and here I am—” + </p> + <p> + So saying, Sleepinbuff burst into a bitter laugh, which sent an icy + shudder through the spectators of this scene. + </p> + <p> + “My good fellow,” said Morok, coolly, “listen to me, and + follow my advice.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you! I know your advice—and, instead of listening to + you, I prefer speaking to my poor Cephyse. Before I go down to the moles, + I should like to tell her what weighs on my heart.” + </p> + <p> + “Jacques,” replied Cephyse, “do not talk so. I tell you, + you shall not die.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, then, my brave Cephyse, I shall owe my life to you,” + returned Jacques, in a tone of serious feeling, which surprised the + spectators. “Yes,” resumed he, “when I came to myself, + and saw you so poorly clad, I felt something good about my heart—do + you know why?—it was because I said to myself, ‘Poor girl! she + has kept her word bravely; she has chosen to toil, and want, and suffer—rather + than take another love—who would have given her what I gave her as + long as I could’—and that thought, Cephyse, refreshed my soul. + I needed it, for I was burning—and I burn still,” added he, + clinching his fists with pain; “but that made me happy—it did + me good—thanks, my good, brave Cephyse—yes, you are good and + brave—and you were right; for I never loved any but you in the wide + world; and if, in my degradation, I had one thought that raised me a + little above the filth, and made me regret that I was not better—the + thought was of you! Thanks then, my poor, dear love,” said Jacques, + whose hot and shining eyes were becoming moist; “thanks once again,” + and he reached his cold hand to Cephyse; “if I die, I shall die + happy—if I live, I shall live happy also. Give me your hand, my + brave Cephyse!—you have acted like a good and honest creature.” + </p> + <p> + Instead of taking the hand which Jacques offered her, Cephyse, still + kneeling, bowed her head, and dared not raise her eyes to her lover. + </p> + <p> + “You don’t answer,” said he, leaning over towards the + young girl; “you don’t take my hand—why is this?” + </p> + <p> + The unfortunate creature only answered by stifled sobs. Borne down with + shame, she held herself in so humble, so supplicating an attitude, that + her forehead almost touched the feet of her lover. + </p> + <p> + Amazed at the silence and conduct of the Bacchanal Queen, Jacques looked + at her with increasing agitation; suddenly he stammered out with trembling + lips, “Cephyse, I know you. If you do not take my hand, it is + because—” + </p> + <p> + Then, his voice failing, he added, in a dull tone, after a moment’s + silence, “When, six weeks ago, I was taken to prison, did you not + say to me, ‘Jacques, I swear that I will work—and if need be, + live in horrible misery—but I will live true!’ That was your + promise. Now, I know you never speak false; tell me you have kept your + word, and I shall believe you.” + </p> + <p> + Cephyse only answered by a heart-rending sob, as she pressed the knees of + Jacques against her heaving bosom. By a strange contradiction, more common + than is generally thought—this man, degraded by intoxication and + debauchery, who, since he came out of prison, had plunged in every excess, + and tamely yielded to all the fatal incitements of Morok, yet received a + fearful blow, when he learned, by the mute avowal of Cephyse, the + infidelity, of this creature, whom he had loved in spite of degradation. + The first impulse of Jacques was terrible. Notwithstanding his weakness + and exhaustion, he succeeded in rising from his seat, and, with a + countenance contracted by rage and despair, he seized a knife, before they + had time to prevent him, and turned it upon Cephyse. But at the moment he + was about to strike, shrinking from an act of murder, he hurled the knife + far away from him, and falling back into the chair, covered his face with + his hands. + </p> + <p> + At the cry of Ninny Moulin, who had, though late, thrown himself upon + Jacques to take away the knife, Cephyse raised her head: Jacques’s + woeful dejection wrung her heart; she rose, and fell upon his neck, + notwithstanding his resistance, exclaiming in a voice broken by sobs, + “Jacques, if you knew! if you only knew—listen—do not + condemn me without hearing me—I will tell you all, I swear to you—without + falsehood—this man,” and she pointed to Morok, “will not + dare deny what I say; he came, and told me to have the courage to—” + </p> + <p> + “I do not reproach you. I have no right to reproach you. Let me die + in peace. I ask nothing but that now,” said Jacques, in a still + weaker voice, as he repulsed Cephyse. Then he added, with a grievous and + bitter smile, “Luckily, I have my dose. I knew—what I was + doing—when I accepted the duel with brandy.” + </p> + <p> + “No, you shall not die, and you shall hear me,” cried Cephyse, + with a bewildered air; “you shall hear me, and everybody else shall + hear me. They shall see that it is not my fault. Is it not so, gentlemen? + Do I not deserve pity? You will entreat Jacques to forgive me; for if + driven by misery—finding no work—I was forced to this—not + for the sake of any luxury—you see the rags I wear—but to get + bread and shelter for my poor, sick sister—dying, and even more + miserable than myself—would you not have pity upon me? Do you think + one finds pleasure in one’s infamy?” cried the unfortunate, + with a burst of frightful laughter; then she added, in a low voice, and + with a shudder, “Oh, if you knew, Jacques! it is so infamous, so + horrible, that I preferred death to falling so low a second time. I should + have killed myself, had I not heard you were here.” Then, seeing + that Jacques did not answer her, but shook his head mournfully as he sank + down though still supported by Ninny Moulin, Cephyse exclaimed, as she + lifted her clasped hands towards him, “Jacques! one word—for + pity’s sake—forgive me!” + </p> + <p> + “Gentlemen, pray remove this woman,” cried Morok; “the + sight of her causes my friend too painful emotions.” + </p> + <p> + “Come, my dear child, be reasonable,” said several of the + guests, who, deeply moved by this scene, were endeavoring to withdraw + Cephyse from it; “leave him, and come with us; he is not in any + danger.” + </p> + <p> + “Gentlemen! oh, gentlemen!” cried the unfortunate creature, + bursting into tears, and raising her hands in supplication; “listen + to me—I will do all that you wish me—I will go—but, in + heaven’s name, send for help, and do not let him die thus. Look, + what pain he suffers! what horrible convulsions!” + </p> + <p> + “She is right,” said one of the guests, hastening towards the + door; “we must send for a doctor.” + </p> + <p> + “There is no doctor to be found,” said another; “they + are all too busy.” + </p> + <p> + “We will do better than that,” cried a third; “the + Hospital is just opposite, and we can carry the poor fellow thither. They + will give him instant help. A leaf of the table will make a litter, and + the table cloth a covering.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes, that is it,” said several voices; “let us + carry him over at once.” + </p> + <p> + Jacques, burnt up with brandy, and overcome by his interview with Cephyse, + had again fallen into violent convulsions. It was the dying paroxysm of + the unfortunate man. They were obliged to tie him with the ends of the + cloth, so as to secure him to the leaf which was to serve for a litter, + which two of the guests hastened to carry away. They yielded to the + supplication of Cephyse, who asked, as a last favor, to accompany Jacques + to the Hospital. When the mournful procession quitted the great room of + the eating-house, there was a general flight among the guests. Men and + women made haste to wrap themselves in their cloaks, in order to conceal + their costumes. The coaches, which had been ordered in tolerable number + for the return of the masquerade, had luckily arrived. The defiance had + been fully carried out, the audacious bravado accomplished, and they could + now retire with the honors of war. Whilst a part of the guests were still + in the room, an uproar, at first distant, but which soon drew nearer, + broke out with incredible fury in the square of Notre Dame. + </p> + <p> + Jacques had been carried to the outer door of the tavern. Morok and Ninny + Moulin, striving to open a passage through the crowd in the direction of + the Hospital, preceded the litter. A violent reflux of the multitude soon + forced them to stop, whilst a new storm of savage outcries burst from the + other extremity of the square, near the angle of the church. + </p> + <p> + “What is it then?” asked Ninny Moulin of one of those ignoble + figures that was leaping up before him. “What are those cries?” + </p> + <p> + “They are making mince-meat of a poisoner, like him they have thrown + into the river,” replied the man. “If you want to see the fun, + follow me close,” added he, “and peg away with your elbows, + for fear you should be too late.” + </p> + <p> + Hardly had the wretch pronounced these words than a dreadful shriek + sounded above the roar of the crowd, through which the bearers of the + litter, preceded by Morok, were with difficulty making their way. It was + Cephyse who uttered that cry. Jacques (one of the seven heirs of the + Rennepont family) had just expired in her arms! By a strange fatality, at + the very moment that the despairing exclamation of Cephyse announced that + death, another cry rose from that part of the square where they were + attacking the poisoner. That distant, supplicating cry, tremulous with + horrible alarm, like the last appeal of a man staggering beneath the blows + of his murderers, chilled the soul of Morok in the midst of his execrable + triumph. + </p> + <p> + “Damnation!” cried the skillful assassin, who had selected + drunkenness and debauchery for his murderous but legal weapons; “it + is the voice of the Abbe d’Aigrigny, whom they have in their + clutches!” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0128" id="link2HCH0128"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXIII. THE POISONER. + </h2> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">I</span>t is necessary to + go back a little before relating the adventure of Father d’Aigrigny, + whose cry of distress made so deep an impression upon Morok just at the + moment of Jacques Rennepont’s death. We have said that the most + absurd and alarming reports were circulating in Paris; not only did people + talk of poison given to the sick or thrown into the public fountains, but + it was also said that wretches had been surprised in the act of putting + arsenic into the pots which are usually kept all ready on the counters of + wine-shops. Goliath was on his way to rejoin Morok, after delivering a + message to Father d’Aigrigny, who was waiting in a house on the + Place de l’Archeveche. He entered a wine-shop in the Rue de la + Calandre, to get some refreshment, and having drunk two glasses of wine, + he proceeded to pay for them. Whilst the woman of the house was looking + for change, Goliath, mechanically and very innocently, rested his hand on + the mouth of one of the pots that happened to be within his reach. + </p> + <p> + The tall stature of this man and his repulsive and savage countenance had + already alarmed the good woman, whose fears and prejudices had previously + been roused by the public rumors on the subject of poisoning; but when she + saw Goliath place his hand over the mouth of one of her pots, she cried + out in dismay: “Oh! my gracious! what are you throwing into that + pot?” At these words, spoken in a loud voice, and with the accent of + terror, two or three of the drinkers at one of the tables rose + precipitately, and ran to the counter, while one of them rashly exclaimed: + “It is a poisoner!” + </p> + <p> + Goliath, not aware of the reports circulated in the neighborhood, did not + at first understand of what he was accused. The men raised their voices as + they called on him to answer the charge; but he, trusting to his strength, + shrugged his shoulders in disdain, and roughly demanded the change, which + the pale and frightened hostess no longer thought of giving him. + </p> + <p> + “Rascal!” cried one of the men, with so much violence that + several of the passers-by stopped to listen; “you shall have your + change when you tell us what you threw in the pot!” + </p> + <p> + “Ha! did he throw anything into the wine-pot?” said one of the + passers by. + </p> + <p> + “It is, perhaps, a poisoner,” said another. + </p> + <p> + “He ought to be taken up,” added a third. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes,” cried those in the house—honest people + perhaps, but under the influence of the general panic; “he must be + taken up, for he has been throwing poison into the wine-pots.” + </p> + <p> + The words “He is a poisoner” soon spread through the group, + which, at first composed of three or four persons, increased every instant + around the door of the wine-shop. A dull, menacing clamor began to rise + from the crowd; the first accuser, seeing his fears thus shared and almost + justified, thought he was acting like a good and courageous citizen in + taking Goliath by the collar, and saying to him: “Come and explain + yourself at the guard-house, villain!” + </p> + <p> + The giant, already provoked at insults of which he did not perceive the + real meaning, was exasperated at this sudden attack; yielding to his + natural brutality, he knocked his adversary down upon the counter, and + began to hammer him with his fists. During this collision, several bottles + and two or three panes of glass were broken with much noise, whilst the + woman of the house, more and more frightened, cried out with all her + might; “Help! a poisoner! Help! murder!” + </p> + <p> + At the sound of the breaking windows and these cries of distress, the + passers-by, of whom the greater number believed in the stories about the + poisoners, rushed into the shop to aid in securing Goliath. But the + latter, thanks to his herculean strength, after struggling for some + moments with seven or eight persons, knocked down two of his most furious + assailants, disengaged himself from the others, drew near the counter, + and, taking a vigorous spring, rushed head-foremost, like a bull about to + butt, upon the crowd that blocked up the door; then, forcing a passage, by + the help of his enormous shoulders and athletic arms, he made his way into + the street, and ran with all speed in the direction of the square of + Notre-Dame, his garments torn, his head bare, and his countenance pale and + full of rage. Immediately, a number of persons from amongst the crowd + started in pursuit of Goliath, and a hundred voices exclaimed: “Stop—stop + the poisoner!” + </p> + <p> + Hearing these cries, and seeing a man draw near with a wild and troubled + look, a butcher, who happened to be passing with his large, empty tray on + his head, threw it against Goliath’s shins, and taken by surprise, + he stumbled and fell. The butcher, thinking he had performed as heroic an + action as if he had encountered a mad dog, flung himself on Goliath, and + rolled over with him on the pavement, exclaiming: “Help! it is a + poisoner! Help! help!” This scene took place not far from the + Cathedral, but at some distance from the crowd which was pressing round + the hospital gate, as well as from the eating-house in which the + masquerade of the cholera then was. The day was now drawing to a close. On + the piercing call of the butcher, several groups, at the head of which + were Ciboule and the quarryman, flew towards the scene of the struggle, + while those who had pursued the pretended poisoner from the Rue de la + Calandre, reached the square on their side. + </p> + <p> + At sight of this threatening crowd advancing towards him, Goliath, whilst + he continued to defend himself against the butcher, who held him with the + tenacity of a bull-dog, felt that he was lost unless he could rid himself + of this adversary before the arrival of the rest; with a furious blow of + the fist, therefore, he broke the jaw of the butcher, who just then was + above him, and disengaging himself from his hold, he rose, and staggered a + few steps forward. Suddenly he stopped. He saw that he was surrounded. + Behind him rose the walls of the cathedral; to the right and left, and in + front of him, advanced a hostile multitude. The groans uttered by the + butcher, who had just been lifted from the ground covered with blood, + augmented the fury of the populace. + </p> + <p> + This was a terrible moment for Goliath: still standing alone in the centre + of a ring that grew smaller every second, he saw on all sides angry + enemies rushing towards him, and uttering cries of death. As the wild boar + turns round once or twice, before resolving to stand at bay and face the + devouring pack, Goliath, struck with terror, made one or two abrupt and + wavering movements. Then, as he abandoned the possibility of flight, + instinct told him that he had no mercy to expect from a crowd given up to + blind and savage fury—a fury the more pitiless as it was believed to + be legitimate. Goliath determined, therefore, at least to sell his life + dearly; he sought for a knife in his pocket, but, not finding it, he threw + out his left leg in an athletic posture, and holding up his muscular arms, + hard and stiff as bars of iron, waited with intrepidity for the shock. + </p> + <p> + The first who approached Goliath was Ciboule. The hag, heated and out of + breath, instead of rushing upon him, paused, stooped down, and taking off + one of the large wooden shoes that she wore, hurled it at the giant’s + head with so much force and with so true an aim that it struck him right + in the eye, which hung half out of its socket. Goliath pressed his hands + to his face, and uttered a cry of excruciating pain. + </p> + <p> + “I’ve made him squint!” said Ciboule, with a burst of + laughter. + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:65%;"> + <img src="images/30085m.jpg" alt="30085m” width=" /><br /> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/30085.jpg"><i>Original</i></a> + </h5> + <p> + Goliath, maddened by the pain, instead of waiting for the attack, which + the mob still hesitated to begin, so greatly were they awed by his + appearance of herculean strength—the only adversary worthy to cope + with him being the quarryman, who had been borne to a distance by the + surging of the crowd—Goliath, in his rage, rushed headlong upon the + nearest. Such a struggle was too unequal to last long; but despair + redoubled the Colossus’s strength, and the combat was for a moment + terrible. The unfortunate man did not fall at once. For some seconds, + almost buried amid a swarm of furious assailants, one saw now his mighty + arm rise and fall like a sledge hammer, beating upon skulls and faces, and + now his enormous head, livid and bloody, drawn back by some of the + combatants hanging to his tangled hair. Here and there sudden openings and + violent oscillations of the crowd bore witness to the incredible energy of + Goliath’s defence. But when the quarryman succeeded in reaching him, + Goliath was overpowered and thrown down. A long, savage cheer in triumph + announced this fall; for, under such circumstances, to “go under” + is “to die.” Instantly a thousand breathless and angry voices + repeated the cry of “Death to the poisoner!” + </p> + <p> + Then began one of those scenes of massacre and torture, worthy of + cannibals, horrible to relate, and the more incredible, that they happen + almost always in the presence, and often with the aid, of honest and + humane people, who, blinded by false notions and stupid prejudices, allow + themselves to be led into all sorts of barbarity, under the idea of + performing an act of inexorable justice. As it frequently happens, the + sight of the blood which flowed in torrents from Goliath’s wounds + inflamed to madness the rage of his assailants. A hundred fists struck at + the unhappy man; he was stamped under foot, his face and chest were beaten + in. Ever and anon, in the midst of furious cries of “Death to the + poisoner!” heavy blows were audible, followed by stifled groans. It + was a frightful butchery. Each individual, yielding to a sanguinary + frenzy, came in turn to strike his blow; or to tear off his morsel of + flesh. Women—yes, women—mothers!—came to spend their + rage on this mutilated form. + </p> + <p> + There was one moment of frightful terror. With his face all bruised and + covered with mud, his garments in rags, his chest bare, red, gaping with + wounds—Goliath, availing himself of a moment’s weariness on + the part of his assassins, who believed him already, finished, succeeded, + by one of those convulsive starts frequent in the last agony, in raising + himself to his feet for a few seconds; then, blind with wounds and loss of + blood, striking about his arms in the air as if to parry blows that were + no longer struck, he muttered these words, which came from his mouth, + accompanied by a crimson torrent: “Mercy! I am no poisoner. Mercy!” + This sort of resurrection produced so great an effect on the crowd, that + for an instant they fell hack affrighted. The clamor ceased, and a small + space was left around the victim. Some hearts began even to feel pity; + when the quarryman, seeing Goliath blinded with blood, groping before him + with his hands, exclaimed in ferocious allusion to a well-known game: + “Now for blind-man’s-bluff.” + </p> + <p> + Then, with a violent kick, he again threw down the victim, whose head + struck twice heavily on the pavement. + </p> + <p> + Just as the giant fell a voice from amongst the crowd exclaimed: “It + is Goliath! stop! he is innocent.” + </p> + <p> + It was Father d’Aigrigny, who, yielding to a generous impulse, was + making violent efforts to reach the foremost rank of the actors in this + scene, and who cried out, as he came nearer, pale, indignant, menacing: + “You are cowards and murderers! This man is innocent. I know him. + You shall answer for his life.” + </p> + <p> + These vehement words were received with loud murmurs. + </p> + <p> + “You know that poisoner,” cried the quarryman, seizing the + Jesuit by the collar; “then perhaps you are a poisoner too. + </p> + <p> + “Wretch,” exclaimed Father d’Aigrigny, endeavoring to + shake himself loose from the grasp, “do you dare to lay hand upon + me?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I dare do anything,” answered the quarryman. + </p> + <p> + “He knows him: he’s a poisoner like the other,” cried + the crowd, pressing round the two adversaries; whilst Goliath, who had + fractured his skull in the fall, uttered a long death-rattle. + </p> + <p> + At a sudden movement of Father d’Aigrigny, who disengaged himself + from the quarryman, a large glass phial of peculiar form, very thick, and + filled with a greenish liquor, fell from his pocket, and rolled close to + the dying Goliath. At sight of this phial, many voices exclaimed together: + “It is poison! Only see! He had poison upon him.” + </p> + <p> + The clamor redoubled at this accusation, and they pressed so close to Abbe + d’Aigrigny, that he exclaimed: “Do not touch me! do not + approach me!” + </p> + <p> + “If he is a poisoner,” said a voice, “no more mercy for + him than for the other.” + </p> + <p> + “I a poisoner?” said the abbe, struck with horror. + </p> + <p> + Ciboule had darted upon the phial; the quarryman seized it from her, + uncorked it and presenting it to Father d’Aigrigny, said to him: + “Now tell us what is that?” + </p> + <p> + “It is not poison,” cried Father d’Aigrigny. + </p> + <p> + “Then drink it!” returned the quarryman. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes! let him drink it!” cried the mob. + </p> + <p> + “Never,” answered Father d’Aigrigny, in extreme alarm. + And he drew back as he spoke, pushing away the phial with his hand. + </p> + <p> + “Do you see? It is poison. He dares not drink it,” they + exclaimed. Hemmed in on every side, Father d’Aigrigny stumbled + against the body of Goliath. + </p> + <p> + “My friends,” cried the Jesuit, who, without being a poisoner, + found himself exposed to a terrible alternative, for his phial contained + aromatic salts of extraordinary strength, designed for a preservative + against the cholera, and as dangerous to swallow as any poison, “my + good friends, you are in error. I conjure you, in the name of heaven—” + </p> + <p> + “If that is not poison, drink it!” interrupted the quarryman, + as he again offered the bottle to the Jesuit. + </p> + <p> + “If he does not drink it, death to the poisoner of the poor!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes!—death to him! death to him!” + </p> + <p> + “Unhappy men!” cried Father d’Aigrigny, whilst his hair + stood on end with terror; “do you mean to murder me?” + </p> + <p> + “What about all those, that you and your mate have killed, you + wretch?” + </p> + <p> + “But it is not true—and—” + </p> + <p> + “Drink, then!” repeated the inflexible quarryman; “I ask + you for the last time.” + </p> + <p> + “To drink that would be death,” cried Father d’Aigrigny. + </p> + <p> + “Oh! only hear the wretch!” cried the mob, pressing closer to + him; “he has confessed—he has confessed!” + </p> + <p> + “He has betrayed himself!”(40) + </p> + <p> + “He said, ‘to drink that would be death!’” + </p> + <p> + “But listen to me,” cried the abbe, clasping his hands + together; “this phial is—” + </p> + <p> + Furious cries interrupted Father d’Aigrigny. “Ciboule, make an + end of that one!” cried the quarryman, spurning Goliath with his + foot. “I will begin this one!” And he seized Father d’Aigrigny + by the throat. + </p> + <p> + At these words, two different groups formed themselves. One, led by + Ciboule, “made an end” of Goliath, with kicks and blows, + stones and wooden shoes; his body was soon reduced to a horrible thing, + mutilated, nameless, formless—a mere inert mass of filth and mangled + flesh. Ciboule gave her cloak, which they tied to one of the dislocated + ankles of the body, and thus dragged it to the parapet of the quay. There, + with shouts of ferocious joy, they precipitated the bloody remains into + the river. Now who does not shudder at the thought that, in a time of + popular commotion, a word, a single word, spoken imprudently, even by an + honest man, and without hatred, will suffice to provoke so horrible a + murder. + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps it is a poisoner!” said one of the drinkers in the + tavern of the Rue de la Calandre—nothing more—and Goliath had + been pitilessly murdered. + </p> + <p> + What imperious reasons for penetrating the lowest depths of the masses + with instruction and with light—to enable unfortunate creatures to + defend themselves from so many stupid prejudices, so many fatal + superstitions, so much implacable fanaticism!—How can we ask for + calmness, reflection, self-control, or the sentiment of justice from + abandoned beings, whom ignorance has brutalized, and misery depraved, and + suffering made ferocious, and of whom society takes no thought, except + when it chains them to the galleys, or binds them ready for the + executioner! The terrible cry which had so startled Morok was uttered by + Father d’Aigrigny as the quarryman laid his formidable hand upon + him, saying to Ciboule: “Make an end of that one—I will begin + this one!” + </p> + <p> + (40) This fact is historical. A man was murdered because a phial full of + ammonia was found upon him. On his refusal to drink it, the populace, + persuaded that the bottle contained poison, tore him to pieces. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0129" id="link2HCH0129"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXIV. IN THE CATHEDRAL. + </h2> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">N</span>ight was almost + come, as the mutilated body of Goliath was thrown into the river. The + oscillations of the mob had carried into the street, which runs along the + left side of the cathedral, the group into whose power Father d’Aigrigny + had fallen. Having succeeded in freeing himself from the grasp of the + quarryman, but still closely pressed by the multitude that surrounded him, + crying, “Death to the poisoner!” he retreated step by step, + trying to parry the blows that were dealt him. By presence of mind, + address, and courage, recovering at that critical moment his old military + energy, he had hitherto been able to resist and to remain firm on his feet—knowing, + by the example of Goliath, that to fall was to die. Though he had little + hope of being heard to any purpose, the abbe continued to call for help + with all his might. Disputing the ground inch by inch, he manoeuvred so as + to draw near one of the lateral walls of the church, and at length + succeeded in ensconcing himself in a corner formed by the projection of a + buttress, and close by a little door. + </p> + <p> + This position was rather favorable. Leaning with his back against the + wall, Father d’Aigrigny was sheltered from the attacks of a portion + of his assailants. But the quarryman, wishing to deprive him of this last + chance of safety, rushed upon him, with the intention of dragging him out + into the circle where he would have been trampled under foot. The fear of + death gave Father d’Aigrigny extraordinary strength, and he was able + once more to repulse the quarryman, and remain entrenched in the corner + where he had taken refuge. The resistance of the victim redoubled the rage + of the assailants. Cries of murderous import resounded with new violence. + The quarryman again rushed upon Father d’Aigrigny, saying, “Follow + me, friends! this lasts too long. Let us make an end of it.” + </p> + <p> + Father d’Aigrigny saw that he was lost. His strength was exhausted, + and he felt himself sinking; his legs trembled under him, and a cloud + obscured his sight; the howling of the furious mob began to sound dull + upon his ear. The effects of violent contusions, received during the + struggle, both on the head and chest, were now very perceptible. Two or + three times, a mixture of blood and foam rose to the lips of the abbe; his + position was a desperate one. + </p> + <p> + “To be slaughtered by these brutes, after escaping death so often in + war!” Such was the thought of Father d’Aigrigny, as the + quarryman rushed upon him. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly, at the very moment when the abbe, yielding to the instinct of + self-preservation, uttered one last call for help, in a heart-piercing + voice, the door against which he leaned opened behind him, and a firm hand + caught hold of him, and pulled him into the church. Thanks to this + movement, performed with the rapidity of lightning, the quarryman, thrown + forward in his attempt to seize Father d’Aigrigny, could not check + his progress, and found himself just opposite to the person who had come, + as it were, to take the place of the victim. + </p> + <p> + The quarryman stopped short, and then fell back a couple of paces, so much + was he amazed at this sudden apparition, and impressed, like the rest of + the crowd, with a vague feeling of admiration and respect at sight of him + who had come so miraculously to the aid of Father d’Aigrigny. It was + Gabriel. The young missionary remained standing on the threshold of the + door. His long black cassock was half lost in the shadows of the + cathedral; whilst his angelic countenance, with its border of long light + hair, now pale and agitated by pity and grief, was illumined by the last + faint rays of twilight. This countenance shone with so divine a beauty, + and expressed such touching and tender compassion, that the crowd felt + awed as, with his large blue eyes full of tears, and his hands clasped + together, he exclaimed, in a sonorous voice: “Have mercy, my + brethren! Be humane—be just!” + </p> + <p> + Recovering from his first feeling of surprise and involuntary emotion, the + quarryman advanced a step towards Gabriel, and said to him: “No + mercy for the poisoner! we must have him! Give him up to us, or we go and + take him!” + </p> + <p> + “You cannot think of it, my brethren,” answered Gabriel; + “the church is a sacred place—a place of refuge for the + persecuted.” + </p> + <p> + “We would drag our prisoner from the altar!” answered the + quarryman, roughly; “so give him up to us.” + </p> + <p> + “Listen to me, my brethren,” said Gabriel, extending his arms + towards them. + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:65%;"> + <img src="images/30093m.jpg" alt="30093m” width=" /><br /> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/30093.jpg"><i>Original</i></a> + </h5> + <p> + “Down with the shaveling!” cried the quarryman; “let us + go in and hunt him up in the church!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes!” cried the mob, again led away by the violence of + this wretch, “down with the black gown!” + </p> + <p> + “They are all of a piece!” + </p> + <p> + “Down with them!” + </p> + <p> + “Let us do as we did at the archbishop’s!” + </p> + <p> + “Or at Saint-Germain-l’Auxerrois!” + </p> + <p> + “What do our likes care for a church?” + </p> + <p> + “If the priests defend the poisoners, we’ll pitch them into + the water too!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes!” + </p> + <p> + “I’ll show you the lead!” cried the quarryman; and + followed by Ciboule, and a good number of determined men, he rushed + towards Gabriel. + </p> + <p> + The missionary, who for some moments had watched the increasing fury of + the crowd, had foreseen this movement; hastily retreating into the church, + he succeeded, in spite of the efforts of the assailants, in nearly closing + the door, and in barricading it by the help of a wooden bar, which he held + in such a manner as would enable the door to resist for a few minutes. + </p> + <p> + Whilst he thus defended the entrance, Gabriel shouted to Father d’Aigrigny: + “Fly, father! fly through the vestry! the other doors are fastened.” + </p> + <p> + The Jesuit, overpowered by fatigue, covered with contusions, bathed in + cold sweat, feeling his strength altogether fail, and too soon fancying + himself in safety, had sunk, half fainting, into a chair. At the voice of + Gabriel, he rose with difficulty, and, with a trembling step, endeavored + to reach the choir, separated from the rest of the church by an iron + railing. + </p> + <p> + “Quick, father!” added Gabriel, in alarm, using every effort + to maintain the door, which was now vigorously assailed. “Make + haste! In a few minutes it will be too late. All alone!” continued + the missionary, in despair, “alone, to arrest the progress of these + madmen!” + </p> + <p> + He was indeed alone. At the first outbreak of the attack, three or four + sacristans and other members of the establishment were in the church; but, + struck with terror, and remembering the sack of the archbishop’s + palace, and of Saint-Germain-l’Auxerrois, they had immediately taken + flight. Some of them had concealed themselves in the organ-loft and others + fled into the vestry, the doors of which they locked after them, thus + cutting off the retreat of Gabriel and Father d’Aigrigny. The + latter, bent double by pain, yet roused by the missionary’s + portentive warning, helping himself on by means of the chairs he met with + on his passage, made vain efforts to reach the choir railing. After + advancing a few steps, vanquished by his suffering, he staggered and fell + upon the pavement, deprived of sense and motion. At the same moment, + Gabriel, in spite of the incredible energy with which the desire to save + Father d’Aigrigny had inspired him, felt the door giving way beneath + the formidable pressure from without. + </p> + <p> + Turning his head, to see if the Jesuit had at least quitted the church, + Gabriel, to his great alarm, perceived that he was lying motionless at a + few steps from the choir. To abandon the half-broken door, to run to + Father d’Aigrigny, to lift him in his arms, and drag him within the + railing of the choir, was for the young priest an action rapid as thought; + for he closed the gate of the choir just at the instant that the quarryman + and his band, having finished breaking down the door, rushed in a body + into the church. + </p> + <p> + Standing in front of the choir, with his arms crossed upon his breast, + Gabriel waited calmly and intrepidly for this mob, still more exasperated + by such unexpected resistance. + </p> + <p> + The door once forced, the assailants rushed in with great violence. But + hardly had they entered the church, than a strange scene took place. It + was nearly dark; only a few silver lamps shed their pale light round the + sanctuary, whose far outlines disappeared in the shadow. On suddenly + entering the immense cathedral, dark, silent, and deserted, the most + audacious were struck with awe, almost with fear in presence of the + imposing grandeur of that stony solitude. Outcries and threats died away + on the lips of the most furious. They seemed to dread awaking the echoes + of those enormous arches, those black vaults, from which oozed a + sepulchral dampness, which chilled their brows, inflamed with anger, and + fell upon their shoulders like a mantle of ice. + </p> + <p> + Religious tradition, routine, habit, the memories of childhood, have so + much influence upon men, that hardly had they entered the church, than + several of the quarryman’s followers respectfully took off their + hats, bowed their bare heads, and walked along cautiously, as if to check + the noise of their footsteps on the sounding stones. Then they exchanged a + few words in a low and fearful whisper. Others timidly raised their eyes + to the far heights of the topmost arches of that gigantic building, now + lost in obscurity, and felt almost frightened to see themselves so little + in the midst of that immensity of darkness. But at the first joke of the + quarryman, who broke this respectful silence, the emotion soon passed + away. + </p> + <p> + “Blood and thunder!” cried he; “are you fetching breath + to sing vespers? If they had wine in the font, well and good!” + </p> + <p> + These words were received with a burst of savage laughter. “All this + time the villain will escape!” said one. + </p> + <p> + “And we shall be done,” added Ciboule. + </p> + <p> + “One would think we had cowards here, who are afraid of the + sacristans!” cried the quarryman. + </p> + <p> + “Never!” replied the others in chorus; “we fear nobody.” + </p> + <p> + “Forward!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes—forward!” was repeated on all sides. And the + animation, which had been calmed down for a moment, was redoubled in the + midst of renewed tumult. Some moments after, the eyes of the assailants, + becoming accustomed to the twilight, were able to distinguish in the midst + of the faint halo shed around by a silver lamp, the imposing countenance + of Gabriel, as he stood before the iron railing of the choir. + </p> + <p> + “The poisoner is here, hid in some corner,” cried the + quarryman. “We must force this parson to give us back the villain.” + </p> + <p> + “He shall answer for him!” + </p> + <p> + “He took him into the church.” + </p> + <p> + “He shall pay for both, if we do not find the other!” + </p> + <p> + As the first impression of involuntary respect was effaced from the minds + of the crowd, their voices rose the louder, and their faces became the + more savage and threatening, because they all felt ashamed of their + momentary hesitation and weakness. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes!” cried many voices, trembling with rage, “we + must have the life of one or the other!” + </p> + <p> + “Or of both!” + </p> + <p> + “So much the worse for this priest, if he wants to prevent us from + serving out our poisoner!” + </p> + <p> + “Death to him! death to him!” + </p> + <p> + With this burst of ferocious yells, which were fearfully re-echoed from + the groined arches of the cathedral, the mob, maddened by rage, rushed + towards the choir, at the door of which Gabriel was standing. The young + missionary, who, when placed on the cross by the savages of the Rocky + Mountains, yet entreated heaven to spare his executioners, had too much + courage in his heart, too much charity in his soul, not to risk his life a + thousand times over to save Father d’Aigrigny’s—the very + man who had betrayed hire by such cowardly and cruel hypocrisy. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0130" id="link2HCH0130"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXV. THE MURDERERS. + </h2> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>he quarryman, + followed by his gang, ran towards Gabriel, who had advanced a few paces + from the choir-railing, and exclaimed, his eyes sparkling with rage: + “Where is the poisoner? We will have him!” + </p> + <p> + “Who has told you, my brethren, that he is a poisoner?” + replied Gabriel, with his deep, sonorous voice. “A poisoner! Where + are the proofs—witnesses or victims?” + </p> + <p> + “Enough of that stuff! we are not here for confession,” + brutally answered the quarryman, advancing towards him in a threatening + manner. “Give up the man to us; he shall be forthcoming, unless you + choose to stand in his shoes?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes!” exclaimed several voices; “they are ‘in’ + with one another! One or the other we will have!” + </p> + <p> + “Very well, then; since it is so,” said Gabriel, raising his + head, and advancing with calmness, resignation; and fearlessness; “he + or me,” added he;—“it seems to make no difference to you—you + are determined to have blood—take mine, and I will pardon you, my + friends; for a fatal delusion has unsettled your reason.” + </p> + <p> + These words of Gabriel, his courage, the nobleness of his attitude, the + beauty of his countenance, had made an impression on some of the + assailants, when suddenly a voice exclaimed: “Look! there is the + poisoner, behind the railing!” + </p> + <p> + “Where—where?” cried they. + </p> + <p> + “There—don’t you see?—stretched on the floor.” + </p> + <p> + On hearing this, the mob, which had hitherto formed a compact mass, in the + sort of passage separating the two sides of the nave, between the rows of + chairs, dispersed in every direction, to reach the railing of the choir, + the last and only barrier that now sheltered Father d’Aigrigny. + During this manoeuvre the quarryman, Ciboule, and others, advanced towards + Gabriel, exclaiming, with ferocious joy: “This time we have him. + Death to the poisoner!” + </p> + <p> + To save Father d’Aigrigny, Gabriel would have allowed himself to be + massacred at the entrance of the choir; but, a little further on, the + railing, not above four feet in height, would in another instant be scaled + or broken through. The Missionary lost all hope of saving the Jesuit from + a frightful death. Yet he exclaimed: “Stop, poor deluded people!”—and, + extending his arms, he threw himself in front of the crowd. + </p> + <p> + His words, gesture, and countenance, were expressive of an authority at + once so affectionate and so fraternal, that there was a momentary + hesitation amongst the mob. But to this hesitation soon succeeded the most + furious cries of “Death; death!” + </p> + <p> + “You cry for his death?” cried Gabriel, growing still paler. + </p> + <p> + “Yes! yes!” + </p> + <p> + “Well, let him die,” cried the missionary, inspired with a + sudden thought; “let him die on the instant!” + </p> + <p> + These words of the young priest struck the crowd with amazement. For a few + moments, they all stood mute, motionless, and as it were, paralyzed, + looking at Gabriel in stupid astonishment. + </p> + <p> + “This man is guilty, you say,” resumed the young missionary, + in a voice trembling with emotion. “You have condemned him without + proof, without witnesses—no matter, he must die. You reproach him + with being a poisoner; where are his victims? You cannot tell—but no + matter; he is condemned. You refuse to hear his defense, the sacred right + of every accused person—no matter; the sentence is pronounced. You + are at once his accusers, judges, and executioners. Be it so!—You + have never seen till now this unfortunate man, he has done you no harm, he + has perhaps not done harm to any one—yet you take upon yourselves + the terrible responsibility of his death—understand me well—of + his death. Be it so then! your conscience will absolve you—I will + believe it. He must die; the sacredness of God’s house will not save + him—” + </p> + <p> + “No, no!” cried many furious voices. + </p> + <p> + “No,” resumed Gabriel, with increasing warmth; “no you + have determined to shed his blood, and you will shed it, even in the Lord’s + temple. It is, you say, your right. You are doing an act of terrible + justice. But why then, so many vigorous arms to make an end of one dying + man? Why these outcries? this fury? this violence? Is it thus that the + people, the strong and equitable people, are wont to execute their + judgments? No, no; when sure of their right, they strike their enemies, it + is with the calmness of the judge, who, in freedom of soul and conscience, + passes sentence. No, the strong and equitable people do not deal their + blows like men blind or mad, uttering cries of rage, as if to drown the + sense of some cowardly and horrible murder. No, it is not thus that they + exercise the formidable right, to which you now lay claim—for you + will have it—” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, we will have it!” shouted the quarryman, Ciboule, and + others of the more pitiless portion of the mob; whilst a great number + remained silent, struck with the words of Gabriel, who had just painted to + them, in such lively colors, the frightful act they were about to commit. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” resumed the quarryman, “it is our right; we have + determined to kill the poisoner!” + </p> + <p> + So saying, and with bloodshot eyes, and flushed cheek, the wretch advanced + at the head of a resolute group, making a gesture as though he would have + pushed aside Gabriel, who was still standing in front of the railing. But + instead of resisting the bandit, the missionary advanced a couple of steps + to meet him, took him by the arm, and said in a firm voice: “Come!” + </p> + <p> + And dragging, as it were, with him the stupefied quarryman, whose + companions did not venture to follow at the moment, struck dumb as they + were by this new incident, Gabriel rapidly traversed the space which + separated him from the choir, opened the iron gate, and, still holding the + quarryman by the arm, led him up to the prostrate form of Father d’Aigrigny, + and said to him: “There is the victim. He is condemned. Strike!” + </p> + <p> + “I” cried the quarryman, hesitating; “I—all alone!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” replied Gabriel, with bitterness, “there is no + danger. You can easily finish him. Look! he is broken down with suffering; + he has hardly a breath of life left; he will make no resistance. Do not be + afraid!” + </p> + <p> + The quarryman remained motionless, whilst the crowd, strangely impressed + with this incident, approached a little nearer the railing, without daring + to come within the gate. + </p> + <p> + “Strike then!” resumed Gabriel, addressing the quarryman, + whilst he pointed to the crowd with a solemn gesture; “there are the + judges; you are the executioner.” + </p> + <p> + “No!” cried the quarryman, drawing back, and turning away his + eyes; “I’m not the executioner—not I!” + </p> + <p> + The crowd remained silent. For a few moments, not a word, not a cry, + disturbed the stillness of the solemn cathedral. In a desperate case, + Gabriel had acted with a profound knowledge of the human heart. When the + multitude, inflamed with blind rage, rushes with ferocious clamor upon a + single victim, and each man strikes his blow, this dreadful species of + combined murder appears less horrible to each, because they all share in + the common crime; and then the shouts, the sight of blood, the desperate + defence of the man they massacre, finish by producing a sort of ferocious + intoxication; but, amongst all those furious madmen, who take part in the + homicide, select one, and place him face to face with the victim, no + longer capable of resistance, and say to him, “Strike!”—he + will hardly ever dare to do so. + </p> + <p> + It was thus with the quarryman; the wretch trembled at the idea of + committing a murder in cold blood, “all alone.” The preceding + scene had passed very rapidly; amongst the companions of the quarryman, + nearest to the railing, some did not understand an impression, which they + would themselves have felt as strongly as this bold man, if it had been + said to them: “Do the office of executioner!” These, + therefore, began to murmur aloud at his weakness. “He dares not + finish the poisoner,” said one. + </p> + <p> + “The coward!” + </p> + <p> + “He is afraid.” + </p> + <p> + “He draws back.” Hearing these words, the quarryman ran to the + gate, threw it wide open, and, pointing to Father d’Aigrigny, + exclaimed: “If there is one here braver than I am, let him go and + finish the job—let him be, the executioner—come!” + </p> + <p> + On this proposal the murmurs ceased. A deep silence reigned once more in + the cathedral. All those countenances, but now so furious, became sad, + confused, almost frightened. + </p> + <p> + The deluded mob began to appreciate the ferocious cowardice of the action + it had been about to commit. Not one durst go alone to strike the half + expiring man. Suddenly, Father d’Aigrigny uttered a dying rattle, + his head and one of his arms stirred with a convulsive movement, and then + fell back upon the stones as if he had just expired. + </p> + <p> + Gabriel uttered a cry of anguish, and threw himself on his knees close to + Father d’Aigrigny, exclaiming: “Great Heaven! he is dead!” + </p> + <p> + There is a singular variableness in the mind of a crowd, susceptible alike + to good or evil impressions. At the heart-piercing cry of Gabriel, all + these people, who, a moment before, had demanded, with loud uproar, the + massacre of this man, felt touched with a sudden pity. The words: “He + is dead!” circulated in low whispers through the crowd accompanied + by a slight shudder, whilst Gabriel raised with one hand the victim’s + heavy head, and with the other sought to feel if the pulse still beat + beneath the ice-cold skin. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Curate,” said the quarryman, bending towards Gabriel, + “is there really no hope?” + </p> + <p> + The answer was waited for with anxiety, in the midst of deep silence. The + people hardly ventured to exchange a few words in whispers. + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:65%;"> + <img src="images/30101m.jpg" alt="30101m” width=" /><br /> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/30101.jpg"><i>Original</i></a> + </h5> + <p> + “Blessed be God!” exclaimed Gabriel, suddenly. “His + heart beats.” + </p> + <p> + “His heart beats,” repeated the quarryman, turning his head + towards the crowd, to inform them of the good news. + </p> + <p> + “Oh! his heart beats!” repeated the others, in whispers. + </p> + <p> + “There is hope. We may yet save him,” added Gabriel with an + expression of indescribable happiness. + </p> + <p> + “We may yet save him,” repeated the quarryman, mechanically. + </p> + <p> + “We may yet save him,” muttered the crowd. + </p> + <p> + “Quick, quick,” resumed Gabriel, addressing the quarryman; + “help me, brother. Let us carry him to a neighboring house, where he + can have immediate aid.” + </p> + <p> + The quarryman obeyed with readiness. Whilst the missionary lifted Father d’Aigrigny + by holding him under the arms, the quarryman took the legs of the almost + inanimate body. Together, they carried him outside of the choir. At sight + of the formidable quarryman, aiding the young priest to render assistance + to the man whom he had just before pursued with menaces of death, the + multitude felt a sudden thrill of compassion. Yielding to the powerful + influence of the words and example of Gabriel, they felt themselves deeply + moved, and each became anxious to offer services. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Curate, he would perhaps be better on a chair, that one could + carry upright,” said Ciboule. + </p> + <p> + “Shall I go and fetch a stretcher from the hospital?” asked + another. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Curate, let me take your place; the body is too heavy for you.” + </p> + <p> + “Don’t trouble yourself,” said a powerful man, + approaching the missionary respectfully; “I can carry him alone.” + </p> + <p> + “Shall I run and fetch a coach, Mr. Curate?” said a young + vagabond, taking off his red cap. + </p> + <p> + “Right,” said the quarryman; “run away, my buck!” + </p> + <p> + “But first, ask Mr. Curate if you are to go for a coach,” said + Ciboule, stopping the impatient messenger. + </p> + <p> + “True,” added one of the bystanders; “we are here in a + church, and Mr. Curate has the command. He is at home.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes; go at once, my child,” said Gabriel to the obliging + young vagabond. + </p> + <p> + Whilst the latter was making his way through the crowd, a voice said: + “I’ve a little wicker-bottle of brandy; will that be of any + use?” + </p> + <p> + “No doubt,” answered Gabriel, hastily; “pray give it + here. We can rub his temples with the spirit, and make him inhale a + little.” + </p> + <p> + “Pass the bottle,” cried Ciboule; “but don’t put + your noses in it!” And, passed with caution from hand to hand, the + flask reached Gabriel in safety. + </p> + <p> + Whilst waiting for the coming of the coach, Father d’Aigrigny had + been seated on a chair. Whilst several good-natured people carefully + supported the abbe, the missionary made him inhale a little brandy. In a + few minutes, the spirit had a powerful influence on the Jesuit; he made + some slight movements, and his oppressed bosom heaved with a deep sigh. + </p> + <p> + “He is saved—he will live,” cried Gabriel, in a + triumphant voice; “he will live, my brothers!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! glad to hear it!” exclaimed many voices. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes! be glad, my brothers!” repeated Gabriel; “for, + instead of being weighed down with the remorse of crime, you will have a + just and charitable action to remember. Let us thank God, that he has + changed your blind fury into a sentiment of compassion! Let us pray to + Him, that neither you, nor those you love, may ever be exposed to such + frightful danger as this unfortunate man has just escaped. Oh, my + brothers!” added Gabriel, as he pointed to the image of Christ with + touching emotion, which communicated itself the more easily to others from + the expression of his angelic countenance; “oh, my brothers! let us + never forget, that HE, who died upon that cross for the defence of the + oppressed, for the obscure children of the people like to ourselves, + pronounced those affectionate words so sweet to the heart; ‘Love ye + one another!’—Let us never forget it; let us love and help one + another, and we poor people shall then become better, happier, just. Love—yes, + love ye one another—and fall prostrate before that Saviour, who is + the God of all that are weak, oppressed, and suffering in this world!” + </p> + <p> + So saying, Gabriel knelt down. All present respectfully followed his + example, such power was there in his simple and persuasive words. At this + moment, a singular incident added to the grandeur of the scene. We have + said that a few seconds before the quarryman and his band entered the body + of the church, several persons had fled from it. Two of these had taken + refuge in the organ-loft, from which retreat they had viewed the preceding + scene, themselves remaining invisible. One of these persons was a young + man charged with the care of the organ, and quite musician enough to play + on it. Deeply moved by the unexpected turn of an event which at first + appeared so tragical, and yielding to an artistical inspiration, this + young man, at the moment when he saw the people kneeling with Gabriel, + could not forbear striking the notes. Then a sort of harmonious sigh, at + first almost insensible, seemed to rise from the midst of this immense + cathedral, like a divine aspiration. As soft and aerial as the balmy vapor + of incense, it mounted and spread through the lofty arches. Little by + little the faint, sweet sounds, though still as it were covered, changed + to an exquisite melody, religious, melancholy, and affectionate, which + rose to heaven like a song of ineffable gratitude and love. And the notes + were at first so faint, so covered, that the kneeling multitude had + scarcely felt surprise, and had yielded insensibly to the irresistible + influence of that enchanting harmony. + </p> + <p> + Then many an eye, until now dry and ferocious, became wet with tears—many + hard hearts beat gently, as they remembered the words pronounced by + Gabriel with so tender an accent: “Love ye one another!” It + was at this moment that Father d’Aigrigny came to himself—and + opened his eyes. He thought himself under the influence of a dream. He had + lost his senses in sight of a furious populace, who, with insult and + blasphemy on their lips, pursued him with cries of death even to the + sanctuary of the temple. He opened his eyes—and, by the pale light + of the sacred lamps, to the solemn music of the organ, he saw that crowd, + just now so menacing and implacable, kneeling in mute and reverential + emotion, and humbly bowing their heads before the majesty of the shrine. + </p> + <p> + Some minutes after, Gabriel, carried almost in triumph on the shoulders of + the crowd, entered the coach, in which Father d’Aigrigny, who by + degrees had completely recovered his senses, was already reclining. By the + order of the Jesuit, the coach stopped before the door of a house in the + Rue de Vaugirard; he had the strength and courage to enter this dwelling + alone; Gabriel was not admitted, but we shall conduct the reader thither. + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:65%;"> + <img src="images/30109m.jpg" alt="30109m” width=" /><br /> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/30109.jpg"><i>Original</i></a> + </h5> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0131" id="link2HCH0131"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXVI. THE PATIENT. + </h2> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">A</span>t the end of the + Rue de Vaugirard, there was then a very high wall, with only one small + doorway in all its length. On opening this door, you entered a yard + surrounded by a railing, with screens like Venetian blinds, to prevent + your seeing between the rails. Crossing this courtyard, you come to a fine + large garden, symmetrically planted, at the end of which stood a building + two stories high, looking perfectly comfortable, without luxury, but with + all that cozy simplicity which betokens discreet opulence. A few days had + elapsed since Father d’Aigrigny had been so courageously rescued by + Gabriel from the popular fury. Three ecclesiastics, wearing black gowns, + white bands, and square caps, were walking in the garden with a slow and + measured step. The youngest seemed to be about thirty years of age; his + countenance was pale, hollow, and impressed with a certain ascetic + austerity. His two companions, aged between fifty or sixty, had, on the + contrary, faces at once hypocritical and cunning; their round, rosy cheeks + shone brightly in the sunshine, whilst their triple chins, buried in fat, + descended in soft folds over the fine cambric of their bands. According to + the rules of their order (they belonged to the Society of Jesus), which + forbade their walking only two together, these three members of the + brotherhood never quitted each other a moment. + </p> + <p> + “I fear,” said one of the two, continuing a conversation + already begun, and speaking of an absent person, “I fear, that the + continual agitation to which the reverend father has been a prey, ever + since he was attacked with the cholera, has exhausted his strength, and + caused the dangerous relapse which now makes us fear for his life.” + </p> + <p> + “They say,” resumed the other, “that never was there + seen anxiety like to his.” + </p> + <p> + “And moreover,” remarked the young priest, bitterly, “it + is painful to think, that his reverence Father Rodin has given cause for + scandal, by obstinately refusing to make a public confession, the day + before yesterday when his situation appeared so desperate, that, between + two fits of a delirium, it was thought right to propose to him to receive + the last sacraments.” + </p> + <p> + “His reverence declared that he was not so ill as they supposed,” + answered one of the fathers, “and that he would have the last duties + performed when he thought necessary.” + </p> + <p> + “The fact is, that for the last ten days, ever since he was brought + here dying, his life has been, as it were, only a long and painful agony; + and yet he continues to live.” + </p> + <p> + “I watched by him during the first three days of his malady, with M. + Rousselet, the pupil of Dr. Baleinier,” resumed the youngest father; + “he had hardly a moment’s consciousness, and when the Lord did + grant him a lucid interval, he employed it in detestable execrations + against the fate which had confined him to his bed.” + </p> + <p> + “It is said,” resumed the other, “that Father Rodin made + answer to his Eminence Cardinal Malipieri, who came to persuade him to die + in an exemplary manner, worthy of a son of Loyola, our blessed founder”—at + these words, the three Jesuits bowed their heads together, as if they had + been all moved by the same spring—“it is said, that Father + Rodin made answer to his eminence: ‘I do not need to confess + publicly; I WANT TO LIVE, AND I WILL LIVE.’” + </p> + <p> + “I did not hear that,” said the young priest, with an + indignant air; “but if Father Rodin really made use of such + expressions, it is—” + </p> + <p> + Here, no doubt, reflection came to him just in time, for he stole a + sidelong glance at his two silent, impassible companions, and added: + “It is a great misfortune for his soul; but I am certain, his + reverence has been slandered.” + </p> + <p> + “It was only as a calumnious report, that I mentioned those words,” + said the other priest, exchanging a glance with his companion. + </p> + <p> + One of the garden gates opened, and one of the three reverend fathers + exclaimed, at the sight of the personage who now entered: “Oh! here + is his Eminence Cardinal Malipieri, coming to pay a visit to Father Rodin.” + </p> + <p> + “May this visit of his eminence,” said the young priest, + calmly, “be more profitable to Father Rodin than the last!” + </p> + <p> + Cardinal Malipieri was crossing the garden, on his way to the apartment + occupied by Rodin. + </p> + <p> + Cardinal Malipieri, whom we saw assisting at the sort of council held at + the Princess de Saint-Dizier’s, now on his way to Rodin’s + apartment, was dressed as a layman, but enveloped in an ample pelisse of + puce-colored satin, which exhaled a strong odor of camphor, for the + prelate had taken care to surround himself with all sorts of anti-cholera + specifics. Having reached the second story of the house, the cardinal + knocked at a little gray door. Nobody answering, he opened it, and, like a + man to whom the locality was well known, passed through a sort of + antechamber, and entered a room in which was a turn-up bed. On a black + wood table were many phials, which had contained different medicines. The + prelate’s countenance seemed uneasy and morose; his complexion was + still yellow and bilious; the brown circle which surrounded his black, + squinting eyes appeared still darker than usual. + </p> + <p> + Pausing a moment, he looked round him almost in fear, and several times + stopped to smell at his anti-cholera bottle. Then, seeing he was alone, he + approached a glass over the chimney-piece, and examined with much + attention the color of his tongue; after some minutes spent in this + careful investigation, with the result of which he appeared tolerably + satisfied, he took some preservative lozenges out of a golden box, and + allowed them to melt in his mouth, whilst he closed his eyes with a + sanctified air. Having taken these sanitary precautions, and again pressed + his bottle to his nose, the prelate prepared to enter the third room, when + he heard a tolerably loud noise through the thin partition which separated + him from it, and, stopping to listen, all that was said in the next + apartment easily reached his ear. + </p> + <p> + “Now that my wounds are dressed, I will get up,” said weak, + but sharp and imperious voice. + </p> + <p> + “Do not think of it, reverend father,” was answered in a + stronger tone; “it is impossible.” + </p> + <p> + “You shall see if it is impossible,” replied the other voice. + </p> + <p> + “But, reverend father, you will kill yourself. You are not in a + state to get up. You will expose yourself to a mortal relapse. I cannot + consent to it.” + </p> + <p> + To these words succeeded the noise of a faint struggle, mingled with + groans more angry than plaintive, and the voice resumed: “No, no, + father; for your own safety, I will not leave your clothes within your + reach. It is almost time for your medicine; I will go and prepare it for + you.” + </p> + <p> + Almost immediately after, the door opened, and the prelate saw enter a man + of about twenty-five years of age, carrying on his arm an old olive + great-coat and threadbare black trousers, which he threw down upon a + chair. + </p> + <p> + This personage was Ange Modeste Rousselet, chief pupil of Dr. Baleinier; + the countenance of the young practitioner was mild, humble, and reserved; + his hair, very short in front, flowed down upon his neck behind. He made a + slight start in surprise on perceiving the cardinal, and bowed twice very + low, without raising his eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Before anything else,” said the prelate, with his marked + Italian accent, still holding to his nose his bottle of camphor, “have + any choleraic symptoms returned?” + </p> + <p> + “No, my lord; the pernicious fever, which succeeded the attack of + cholera, still continues.” + </p> + <p> + “Very good. But will not the reverend father be reasonable? What was + the noise that I just heard?” + </p> + <p> + “His reverence wished absolutely to get up and dress himself; but + his weakness is so great, that he could not have taken two steps from the + bed. He is devoured by impatience, and we fear that this agitation will + cause a mortal relapse.” + </p> + <p> + “Has Dr. Baleinier been here this morning?” + </p> + <p> + “He has just left, my lord.” + </p> + <p> + “What does he think of the patient?” + </p> + <p> + “He finds him in the most alarming state, my lord. The night was so + bad, that he was extremely uneasy this morning. Father Rodin is at one of + those critical junctures, when a few hours may decide the life or death of + the patient. Dr. Baleinier is now gone to fetch what is necessary for a + very painful operation, which he is about to perform on the reverend + father.” + </p> + <p> + “Has Father d’Aigrigny been told of this?” + </p> + <p> + “Father d’Aigrigny is himself very unwell, as your eminence + knows; he has not been able to leave his bed for the last three days.” + </p> + <p> + “I inquired about him as I came up,” answered the prelate, + “and I shall see him directly. But, to return to Father Rodin, have + you sent for his confessor, since he is in a desperate state, and about to + undergo a serious operation?” + </p> + <p> + “Dr. Baleinier spoke a word to him about it, as well as about the + last sacraments; but Father Rodin exclaimed, with great irritation, that + they did not leave him a moment’s peace, that he had as much care as + any one for his salvation, and that—” + </p> + <p> + “Per Bacco! I am not thinking of him,” cried the cardinal, + interrupting Ange Modeste Rousselet with his pagan oath, and raising his + sharp voice to a still higher key; “I am not thinking of him, but of + the interests of the Company. It is indispensable that the reverend father + should receive the sacraments with the most splendid solemnity, and that + his end should not only be Christian, but exemplary. All the people in the + house, and even strangers, should be invited to the spectacle, so that his + edifying death may produce an excellent sensation.” + </p> + <p> + “That is what Fathers Grison and Brunet have already endeavored to + persuade his reverence, my lord; but your Eminence knows with what + impatience Father Rodin received this advice, and Dr. Baleinier did not + venture to persist, for fear of advancing a fatal crisis.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I will venture to do it; for in these times of revolutionary + impiety, a solemnly Christian death would produce a very salutary effect + on the public. It would indeed be proper to make the necessary + preparations to embalm the reverend father: he might then lie in state for + some days, with lighted tapers, according to Romish custom. My secretary + would furnish the design for the bier; it would be very splendid and + imposing; from his position in the Order, Father Rodin is entitled to have + everything in the most sumptuous style. He must have at least six hundred + tapers, and a dozen funeral lamps, burning spirits of wine, to hang just + over the body, and light it from above: the effect would be excellent. We + must also distribute little tracts to the people, concerning the pious and + ascetic life of his reverence—” + </p> + <p> + Here a sudden noise, like that of some piece of metal thrown angrily on + the floor, was heard from the next room, in which was the sick man, and + interrupted the prelate in his description. + </p> + <p> + “I hope Father Rodin has not heard you talk of embalming him, my + lord,” said Rousselet, in a whisper: “his bed touches the + partition, and almost everything is audible through it.” + </p> + <p> + “If Father Rodin has heard me,” answered the cardinal, sinking + his voice, and retiring to the other end of the room, “this + circumstance will enable me to enter at once on the business; but, in any + case, I persist in believing that the embalming and the lying in state are + required to make a good effect upon the public. The people are already + frightened at the cholera, and such funeral pomp would have no small + influence on the imagination.” + </p> + <p> + “I would venture to observe to your Eminence, that here the laws are + opposed to such exhibitions.” + </p> + <p> + “The laws—already the laws!” said the cardinal, angrily; + “has not Rome also her laws? And is not every priest a subject of + Rome? Is it not time—” + </p> + <p> + But, not choosing, doubtless, to begin a more explicit conversation with + the young doctor, the prelate resumed, “We will talk of this + hereafter. But, tell me, since my last visit, has the reverend father had + any fresh attacks of delirium?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, my lord; here is the note, as your Eminence commanded.” + So saying Rousselet delivered a paper to the prelate. We will inform the + reader that this part of the conversation between Rousselet and the + cardinal was carried on at a distance from the partition, so that Rodin + could hear nothing of it, whilst that which related to the embalming had + been perfectly audible to him. + </p> + <p> + The cardinal, having received the note from Rousselet, perused it with an + expression of lively curiosity. When he had finished, he crumpled it in + his hand, and said, without attempting to dissemble his vexation, “Always + nothing but incoherent expression. Not two words together, from which you + can draw any reasonable conclusion. One would really think this man had + the power to control himself even in his delirium, and to rave about + insignificant matters only.” + </p> + <p> + Then, addressing Rousselet, “You are sure that you have reported + everything that escaped from him during his delirium?” + </p> + <p> + “With the exception of the same phrases, that he repeated over and + over again, your Eminence may be assured that I have not omitted a single + word, however unmeaning.” + </p> + <p> + “Show me into Father Rodin’s room,” said the prelate, + after a moment’s silence. + </p> + <p> + “But, my lord,” answered the young doctor, with some + hesitation, “the fit has only left him about an hour, and the + reverend father is still very weak.” + </p> + <p> + “The more the reason,” replied the prelate, somewhat + indiscreetly. Then, recollecting himself, he added, “He will the + better appreciate the consolations I have to offer. Should he be asleep, + awake him, and announce my visit.” + </p> + <p> + “I have only orders to receive from your Eminence,” said + Rousselet, bowing, and entering the next room. + </p> + <p> + Left alone, the cardinal said to himself, with a pensive air, “I + always come back to that. When he was suddenly attacked by the cholera, + Father Rodin believed himself poisoned by order of the Holy See. He must + then have been plotting something very formidable against Rome, to + entertain so abominable a fear. Can our suspicions be well founded? Is he + acting secretly and powerfully on the Sacred College? But then for what + end? This it has been impossible to penetrate, so faithfully has the + secret been kept by his accomplices. I had hoped that, during his + delirium, he would let slip some word that would put us on the trace of + what we are so much interested to discover. With so restless and active a + mind, delirium is often the exaggeration of some dominant idea; yet here I + have the report of five different fits—and nothing—no, nothing + but vague, unconnected phrases.” + </p> + <p> + The return of Rousselet put an end to these reflections. “I am sorry + to inform my lord that the reverend father obstinately refuses to see any + one. He says that he requires absolute repose. Though very weak, he has a + savage and angry look, and I should not be surprised if he overheard your + Eminence talk about embalming him.” + </p> + <p> + The cardinal, interrupting Rousselet, said to him, “Did Father Rodin + have his last fit of delirium in the night?” + </p> + <p> + “Between three and half-past five this morning, my lord.” + </p> + <p> + “Between three and half-past five,” repeated the prelate, as + if he wished to impress this circumstance on his memory, “the attack + presented no particular symptoms?” + </p> + <p> + “No, my lord; it consisted of rambling, incoherent talk, as your + Eminence may see by this note.” + </p> + <p> + Then, as he perceived the prelate approaching Father Rodin’s door, + Rousselet added, “The reverend father will positively see no one, my + lord; he requires rest, to prepare for the operation; it might be + dangerous—” + </p> + <p> + Without attending to these observations, the cardinal entered Rodin’s + chamber. It was a tolerably large room, lighted by two windows, and simply + but commodiously furnished. Two logs were burning slowly in the fireplace, + in which stood a coffee-pot, a vessel containing mustard poultice, etc. On + the chimney-piece were several pieces of rag, and some linen bandages. The + room was full of that faint chemical odor peculiar to the chambers of the + sick, mingled with so putrid a stench, that the cardinal stopped at the + door a moment, before he ventured to advance further. As the three + reverend fathers had mentioned in their walk, Rodin lived because he had + said to himself, “I want to live, and I will live.” + </p> + <p> + For, as men of timid imaginations and cowardly minds often die from the + mere dread of dying, so a thousand facts prove that vigor of character and + moral energy may often struggle successfully against disease, and triumph + over the most desperate symptoms. + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:65%;"> + <img src="images/30117m.jpg" alt="30117m” width=" /><br /> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/30117.jpg"><i>Original</i></a> + </h5> + <p> + It was thus with the Jesuit. The unshaken firmness of his character, the + formidable tenacity of his will (for the will has sometimes a mysterious + and almost terrific power), aiding the skillful treatment of Dr. + Baleinier, had saved him from the pestilence with which he had been so + suddenly attacked. But the shock had been succeeded by a violent fever, + which placed Rodin’s life in the utmost peril. This increased danger + had caused the greatest alarm to Father d’Aigrigny, who felt, in + spite of his rivalry and jealousy, that Rodin was the master-spirit of the + plot in which they were engaged, and could alone conduct it to a + successful issue. + </p> + <p> + The curtains of the room was half closed, and admitted only a doubtful + light to the bed on which Rodin was lying. The Jesuit’s features had + lost the greenish hue peculiar to cholera patients, but remained perfectly + livid and cadaverous, and so thin, that the dry, rugged skin appeared to + cling to the smallest prominence of bone. The muscles and veins of the + long, lean, vulture-like neck resembled a bundle of cords. The head, + covered with an old, black, filthy nightcap, from beneath which strayed a + few thin, gray hairs, rested upon a dirty pillow; for Rodin would not + allow them to change his linen. His iron-gray beard had not been shaved + for some time, and stood out like the hairs of a brush. Under his shirt he + wore an old flannel waistcoat full of holes. He had one of his arms out of + bed, and his bony hairy hand, with its bluish nails, held fast a cotton + handkerchief of indescribable color. + </p> + <p> + You might have taken him for a corpse, had it not been for the two + brilliant sparks which still burned in the depths of his eyes. In that + look, in which seemed concentrated all the remaining life and energy of + the man, you might read the most restless anxiety. Sometimes his features + revealed the sharpest pangs; sometimes the twisting of his hands, and his + sudden starts, proclaimed his despair at being thus fettered to a bed of + pain, whilst the serious interests which he had in charge required all the + activity of his mind. Thus, with thoughts continually on the stretch, his + mind often wandered, and he had fits of delirium, from which he woke as + from a painful dream. By the prudent advice of Dr. Baleinier, who + considered him not in a state to attend to matters of—importance, + Father d’Aigrigny had hitherto evaded Rodin’s questions with + regard to the Rennepont affair, which he dreaded to see lost and ruined in + consequence of his forced inaction. The silence of Father d’Aigrigny + on this head, and the ignorance in which they kept him, only augmented the + sick man’s exasperation. Such was the moral and physical state of + Rodin, when Cardinal Malipieri entered his chamber against his will. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0132" id="link2HCH0132"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXVII. THE LURE. + </h2> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>o understand fully + the tortures of Rodin, reduced to inactivity by sickness, and to explain + the importance of Cardinal Malipieri’s visit, we must remember the + audacious views of the ambitious Jesuit, who believed himself following in + the steps of Sixtus V., and expected to become his equal. By the success + of the Rennepont affair, to attain to the generalship of his Order, by the + corruption of the Sacred College to ascend the pontifical throne, and + then, by means of a change in the statutes of the Company, to incorporate + the Society of Jesus with the Holy See, instead of leaving it independent, + to equal and almost always rule the Papacy—such were the secret + projects of Rodin. + </p> + <p> + Their possibility was sanctioned by numerous precedents, for many mere + monks and priests had been suddenly raised to the pontifical dignity. And + as for their morality, the accession of the Borgias, of Julius II., and + other dubious Vicars of Christ, might excuse and authorize the pretensions + of the Jesuits. + </p> + <p> + Though the object of his secret intrigues at Rome had hitherto been + enveloped in the greatest mystery, suspicions had been excited in regard + to his private communications with many members of the Sacred College. A + portion of that college, Cardinal Malipieri at the head of them, had + become very uneasy on the subject, and, profiting by his journey to + France, the cardinal had resolved to penetrate the Jesuit’s dark + designs. If, in the scene we have just painted, the cardinal showed + himself so obstinately bent on having a conference with Rodin, in spite of + the refusal of the latter, it was because the prelate hoped, as we shall + soon see, to get by cunning at the secret, which had hitherto been so well + concealed. It was, therefore, in the midst of all these extraordinary + circumstances, that Rodin saw himself the victim of a malady, which + paralyzed his strength, at the moment when he had need of all his + activity, and of all the resources of his mind. After remaining for some + seconds motionless near the door, the cardinal, still holding his bottle + under his nose, slowly approached the bed where Rodin lay. + </p> + <p> + The latter, enraged at this perseverance, and wishing to avoid an + interview which for many reasons was singularly odious to him, turned his + face towards the wall, and pretended to be asleep. Caring little for this + feint, and determined to profit by Rodin’s state of weakness, the + prelate took a chair, and, conquering his repugnance, sat down close to + the Jesuit’s bed. + </p> + <p> + “My reverend and very dear father, how do you find yourself?” + said he to him, in a honeyed tone, which his Italian accent seemed to + render still more hypocritical. Rodin pretended not to hear, breathed + hard, and made no answer. But the cardinal, not without disgust, shook + with his gloved hand the arm of the Jesuit, and repeated in a louder + voice: “My reverend and very dear father, answer me, I conjure you!” + </p> + <p> + Rodin could not restrain a movement of angry impatience, but he continued + silent. The cardinal was not a man to be discouraged by so little; he + again shook the arm of the Jesuit, somewhat more roughly, repeating, with + a passionless tenacity that would have incensed the most patient person in + the world: “My reverend and very dear father, since you are not + asleep, listen to me, I entreat of you.” + </p> + <p> + Irritable with pain, exasperated by the obstinacy of the prelate, Rodin + abruptly turned his head, fixed on the Roman his hollow eyes, shining with + lurid fire, and, with lips contracted by a sardonic smile, said to him, + bitterly: “You must be very anxious, my lord, to see me embalmed, + and lie in state with tapers, as you were saying just now, for you thus to + come to torment me in my last moments, and hasten my end!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, my good father! how can you talk so?” cried the cardinal, + raising his hands as if to call heaven to witness to the sincerity of the + tender interest he felt for the Jesuit. + </p> + <p> + “I tell you that I heard all just now, my lord; for the partition is + thin,” added Rodin, with redoubled bitterness. + </p> + <p> + “If you mean that, from the bottom of my soul, I desired that you + should make an exemplary and Christian end, you are perfectly right, my + dear father. I did say so; for, after a life so well employed, it would be + sweet to see you an object of adoration for the faithful!” + </p> + <p> + “I tell you, my lord,” cried Rodin, in a weak and broken + voice, “that it is ferocious to express such wishes in the presence + of a dying man. Yes,” he added, with growing animation, that + contrasted strongly with his weakness, “take care what you do; for + if I am too much plagued and pestered—if I am not allowed to breathe + my last breath quietly—I give you notice that you will force me to + die in anything but a Christian manner, and if you mean to profit by an + edifying spectacle, you will be deceived.” + </p> + <p> + This burst of anger having greatly fatigued Rodin, his head fell back upon + the pillow, and he wiped his cracked and bleeding lips with his old cotton + handkerchief. + </p> + <p> + “Come, come, be calm, my very dear father,” resumed the + cardinal, with a patronizing air; “do not give way to such gloomy + ideas. Doubtless, Providence reserves you for great designs, since you + have been already delivered from so much peril. Let us hope that you will + be likewise saved from your present danger.” + </p> + <p> + Rodin answered by a hoarse growl, and turned his face towards the wall. + </p> + <p> + The imperturbable prelate continued: “The views of Providence are + not confined to your salvation, my very dear father. Its power has been + manifested in another way. What I am about to tell you is of the highest + importance. Listen attentively.” + </p> + <p> + Without turning his head, Rodin muttered in a tone of angry bitterness, + which betrayed his intense sufferings: “They desire my death. My + chest is on fire, my head racked with pain, and they have no pity. Oh, I + suffer the tortures of the damned!” + </p> + <p> + “What! already” thought the Roman, with a smile of sarcastic + malice; then he said aloud: “Let me persuade you, my very dear + father—make an effort to listen to me; you will not regret it.” + </p> + <p> + Still stretched upon the bed, Rodin lifted his hands clasped upon his + cotton handkerchief with a gesture of despair, and then let them fall + again by his side. + </p> + <p> + The cardinal slightly shrugged his shoulders, and laid great stress on + what follows, so that Rodin might not lose a word of it: “My dear + father, it has pleased Providence that, during your fit of raving, you + have made, without knowing it, the most important revelations.” + </p> + <p> + The prelate waited with anxious curiosity for the effect of the pious trap + he had laid for the Jesuit’s weakened faculties. But the latter, + still turned towards the wall, did not appear to have heard him and + remained silent. + </p> + <p> + “You are, no doubt, reflecting on my words, my dear father,” + resumed the cardinal; “you are right, for it concerns a very serious + affair. I repeat to you that Providence has allowed you, during your + delirium, to betray your most secret thoughts—happily, to me alone. + They are such as would compromise you in the highest degree. In short, + during your delirium of last night, which lasted nearly two hours, you + unveiled the secret objects of your intrigues at Rome with many of the + members of the Sacred College.” + </p> + <p> + The cardinal, rising softly, stooped over the bed to watch the expression + of Rodin’s countenance. But the latter did not give him time. As a + galvanized corpse starts into strange and sudden motion, Rodin sprang into + a sitting posture at the last words of the prelate. + </p> + <p> + “He has betrayed himself,” said the cardinal, in a low voice, + in Italian. Then, resuming his seat, he fixed on the Jesuit his eyes, that + sparkled with triumphant joy. + </p> + <p> + Though he did not hear the exclamation of Malipieri, nor remark the + expression of his countenance, Rodin, notwithstanding his state of + weakness, instantly felt the imprudence of his start. He pressed his hand + to his forehead, as though he had been seized with a giddiness; then, + looking wildly round him, he pressed to his trembling lips his old cotton + handkerchief, and gnawed it mechanically for some seconds. + </p> + <p> + “Your emotion and alarm confirm the sad discoveries I have made,” + resumed the cardinal, still more rejoicing at the success of his trick; + “and now, my dear father,” added he, “you will + understand that it is for your best interest to enter into the most minute + detail as to your projects and accomplices at Rome. You may then hope, my + dear father, for the indulgence of the Holy See—that is, if your + avowals are sufficiently explicit to fill up the chasms necessarily left + in a confession made during delirium.” + </p> + <p> + Rodin, recovered from his first surprise, perceived, but too late, that he + had fallen into a snare, not by any words he had spoken, but by his too + significant movements. In fact, the Jesuit had feared for a moment that he + might have betrayed himself during his delirium, when he heard himself + accused of dark intrigues with Rome; but, after some minutes of + reflection, his common sense suggested: “If this crafty Roman knew + my secret, he would take care not to tell me so. He has only suspicions, + confirmed by my involuntary start just now.” + </p> + <p> + Rodin wiped the cold sweat from his burning forehead. The emotion of this + scene augmented his sufferings, and aggravated the danger of his + condition. Worn out with fatigue, he could not remain long in a sitting + posture, and soon fell back upon the bed. + </p> + <p> + “Per Bacco!” said the cardinal to himself, alarmed at the + expression of the Jesuit’s face; “if he were to die before he + had spoken, and so escape the snare!” + </p> + <p> + Then, leaning over the bed, the prelate asked: “What is the matter, + my very dear father?” + </p> + <p> + “I am weak, my lord—I am in pain—I cannot express what I + suffer.” + </p> + <p> + “Let us hope, my very dear father, that this crisis will have no + fatal results; but the contrary may happen, and it behooves the salvation + of your soul to make instantly the fullest confession. Were it even to + exhaust your strength, what is this perishable body compared to eternal + life?” + </p> + <p> + “Of what confession do you speak, my lord?” said Rodin, in a + feeble and yet sarcastic tone. + </p> + <p> + “What confession!” cried the amazed cardinal; “why, with + regard to your dangerous intrigues at Rome.” + </p> + <p> + “What intrigues?” asked Rodin. + </p> + <p> + “The intrigues you revealed during your delirium,” replied the + prelate, with still more angry impatience. “Were not your avowals + sufficiently explicit? Why, then, this culpable hesitation to complete + them?” + </p> + <p> + “My avowals—were explicit—you assure me?” said + Rodin, pausing after each word for want of breath, but without losing his + energy and presence of mind. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I repeat it,” resumed the cardinal; “with the + exception of a few chasms, they were most explicit.” + </p> + <p> + “Then why repeat them?” said Rodin, with the same sardonic + smile on his violet lips. + </p> + <p> + “Why repeat them?” cried the angry prelate. “In order to + gain pardon; for if there is indulgence and mercy for the repentant + sinner, there must be condemnation and curses for the hardened criminal!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, what torture! I am dying by slow fire!” murmured Rodin. + “Since I have told all,” he resumed, “I have nothing + more to tell. You know it already.” + </p> + <p> + “I know all—doubtless, I know all,” replied the prelate, + in a voice of thunder; “but how have I learned it? By confessions + made in a state of unconsciousness. Do you think they will avail you + anything? No; the moment is solemn—death is at hand, tremble to die + with a sacrilegious falsehood on your lips,” cried the prelate, + shaking Rodin violently by the arm; “dread the eternal flames, if + you dare deny what you know to be the truth. Do you deny it?” + </p> + <p> + “I deny nothing,” murmured Rodin, with difficulty. “Only + leave me alone!” + </p> + <p> + “Then heaven inspires you,” said the cardinal, with a sigh of + satisfaction; and, thinking he had nearly attained his object, he resumed, + “Listen to the divine word, that will guide you, father. You deny + nothing?” + </p> + <p> + “I was—delirious—and cannot—(oh! how I suffer!)” + added Rodin, by way of parenthesis; “and cannot therefore—deny—the + nonsense—I may have uttered!” + </p> + <p> + “But when this nonsense agrees with the truth,” cried the + prelate, furious at being again deceived in his expectation; “but + when raving is an involuntary, providential revelation—” + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:65%;"> + <img src="images/30125m.jpg" alt="30125m” width=" /><br /> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/30125.jpg"><i>Original</i></a> + </h5> + <p> + “Cardinal Malipieri—your craft is no match—for my agony,” + answered Rodin, in a failing voice. “The proof—that I have not + told my secret—if I have a secret—is—that you want to + make me tell it!” In spite of his pain and weakness, the Jesuit had + courage to raise himself in the bed, and look the cardinal full in the + face, with a smile of bitter irony. After which he fell back on the + pillow, and pressed his hands to his chest, with a long sigh of anguish. + </p> + <p> + “Damnation! the infernal Jesuit has found me out!” said the + cardinal to himself, as he stamped his foot with rage. “He sees that + he was compromised by his first movement; he is now upon his guard; I + shall get nothing more from him—unless indeed, profiting by the + state of weakness in which he is, I can, by entreaties, by threats, by + terror—” + </p> + <p> + The prelate was unable to finish. The door opened abruptly, and Father d’Aigrigny + entered the room, exclaiming with an explosion of joy: “Excellent + news!” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0133" id="link2HCH0133"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXVIII. GOOD NEWS. + </h2> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">B</span>y the alteration + in the countenance of Father d’Aigrigny, his pale cheek, and the + feebleness of his walk, one might see that the terrible scene in the + square of Notre-Dame, had violently reacted upon his health. Yet his face + was radiant and triumphant, as he entered Rodin’s chamber, + exclaiming: “Excellent news!” + </p> + <p> + On these words, Rodin started. In spite of his weakness, he raised his + head, and his eyes shone with a curious, uneasy, piercing expression. With + his lean hand, he beckoned Father d’Aigrigny to approach the bed, + and said to him, in a broken voice, so weak that it was scarcely audible: + “I am very ill—the cardinal has nearly finished me—but + if this excellent news—relates to the Rennepont affair—of + which I hear nothing—it might save me yet!” + </p> + <p> + “Be saved then!” cried Father d’Aigrigny, forgetting the + recommendations of Dr. Baleinier; “read, rejoice! What you foretold + is beginning to be realized!” + </p> + <p> + So saying, he drew a paper from his pocket, and delivered it to Rodin, who + seized it with an eager and trembling hand. Some minutes before, Rodin + would have been really incapable of continuing his conversation with the + cardinal, even if prudence had allowed him to do so; nor could he have + read a single line, so dim had his sight become. But, at the words of + Father d’Aigrigny, he felt such a renewal of hope and vigor, that, + by a mighty effort of energy and will, he rose to a sitting posture, and, + with clear head, and look of intelligent animation, he read rapidly the + paper that Father d’Aigrigny had just delivered to him. + </p> + <p> + The cardinal, amazed at this sudden transfiguration, asked himself if he + beheld the same man, who, a few minutes before, had fallen back on his + bed, almost insensible. Hardly had Rodin finished reading, than he uttered + a cry of stifled joy, saying, with an accent impossible to describe: + “ONE gone! it works—‘tis well!” And, closing his + eyes in a kind of ecstatic transport, a smile of proud triumph overspread + his face, and rendered him still more hideous, by discovering his yellow + and gumless teeth. His emotion was so violent, that the paper fell from + his trembling hand. + </p> + <p> + “He has fainted,” cried Father d’Aigrigny, with + uneasiness, as he leaned over Rodin. “It is my fault, I forgot that + the doctor cautioned me not to talk to him of serious matters.” + </p> + <p> + “No; do not reproach yourself,” said Rodin, in a low voice, + half-raising himself in the bed. “This unexpected joy may perhaps + cure me. Yes—I scarce know what I feel—but look at my cheeks—it + seems to me, that, for the first time since I have been stretched on this + bed of pain, they are a little warm.” + </p> + <p> + Rodin spoke the truth. A slight color appeared suddenly on his livid and + icy cheeks; his voice though still very weak, became less tremulous, and + he exclaimed, in a tone of conviction that startled Father d’Aigrigny + and the prelate, “This first success answers for the others. I read + the future. Yes, yes; our cause will triumph. Every member of the + execrable Rennepont family will be crushed—and that soon you will + see—” + </p> + <p> + Then, pausing, Rodin threw himself back on the pillow, exclaiming: “Oh! + I am choked with joy. My voice fails me.” + </p> + <p> + “But what is it?” asked the cardinal of Father d’Aigrigny. + </p> + <p> + The latter replied, in a tone of hypocritical sanctity: “One of the + heirs of the Rennepont family, a poor fellow, worn out with excesses and + debauchery, died three days ago, at the close of some abominable orgies, + in which he had braved the cholera with sacrilegious impiety. In + consequence of the indisposition that kept me at home, and of another + circumstance, I only received to-day the certificate of the death of this + victim of intemperance and irreligion. I must proclaim it to the praise of + his reverence”—pointing to Rodin—“that he told me, + the worst enemies of the descendants of that infamous renegade would be + their own bad passions, and that the might look to them as our allies + against the whole impious race. And so it has happened with Jacques + Rennepont.” + </p> + <p> + “You see,” said Rodin, in so faint a voice that it was almost + unintelligible, “the punishment begins already. One of the + Renneponts is dead—and believe me—this certificate,” and + he pointed to the paper that Father d’Aigrigny held in his hand, + “will one day be worth forty millions to the Society of Jesus—and + that—because—” + </p> + <p> + The lips alone finished the sentence. During some seconds, Rodin’s + voice had become so faint, that it was at last quite imperceptible. His + larynx, contracted by violent emotion, no longer emitted any sound. The + Jesuit, far from being disconcerted by this incident, finished his phrase, + as it were, by expressive pantomime. Raising his head proudly he tapped + his forehead with his forefinger, as if to express that it was to his + ability this first success was owing. But he soon fell back again on the + bed, exhausted, breathless, sinking, with his cotton handkerchief pressed + once more to his parched lips. The good news, as Father d’Aigrigny + called it, had not cured Rodin. For a moment only, he had had the courage + to forget his pain. But the slight color on his cheek soon disappeared; + his face became once more livid. His sufferings, suspended for a moment, + were so much increased in violence, that he writhed beneath the coverlet, + and buried his face in the pillow, extending his arms above his head, and + holding them stiff as bars of iron. After this crisis, intense as it was + rapid: during which Father d’Aigrigny and the prelate bent anxiously + over him, Rodin, whose face was bathed in cold sweat, made a sign that he + suffered less, and that he wished to drink of a potion to which he + pointed. Father d’Aigrigny fetched it for him, and while the + cardinal held him up with marked disgust, the abbe administered a few + spoonfuls of the potion, which almost immediately produced a soothing + effect. + </p> + <p> + “Shall I call M. Rousselet?” said Father d’Aigrigny, + when Rodin was once more laid down in bed. + </p> + <p> + Rodin shook his head; then, with a fresh effort, he raised his right hand, + opened it, and pointed with his forefinger to a desk in a corner of the + room, to signify that, being no longer able to speak, he wished to write. + </p> + <p> + “I understand your reverence,” said Father d’Aigrigny; + “but first calm yourself. Presently, if you require it. I will give + you writing materials.” + </p> + <p> + Two knocks at the outer door of the next room interrupted this scene. From + motives of prudence, Father d’Aigrigny had begged Rousselet to + remain in the first of the three rooms. He now went to open the door, and + Rousselet handed him a voluminous packet, saying: “I beg pardon for + disturbing you, father, but I was told to let you have these papers + instantly.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you, M. Rousselet,” said Father d’Aigrigny; + “do you know at what hour Dr. Baleinier will return?” + </p> + <p> + “He will not be long, father, for he wishes to perform before night + the painful operation, that will have a decisive effect on the condition + of Father Rodin. I am preparing what is necessary for it,” added + Rousselet, as he pointed to a singular and formidable apparatus, which + Father d’Aigrigny examined with a kind of terror. + </p> + <p> + “I do not know if the symptom is a serious one,” said the + Jesuit; “but the reverend father has suddenly lost his voice.” + </p> + <p> + “It is the third time this has happened within the last week,” + said Rousselet; “the operation of Dr. Baleiner will act both on the + larynx and on the lungs.” + </p> + <p> + “Is the operation a very painful one?” asked Father d’Aigrigny. + </p> + <p> + “There is, perhaps, none more cruel in surgery,” answered the + young doctor; “and Dr. Baleinier has partly concealed its nature + from Father Rodin.” + </p> + <p> + “Please to wait here for Dr. Baleinier, and send him to us as soon + as he arrives,” resumed Father d’Aigrigny: and, returning to + the sick chamber, he sat down by the bedside, and said to Rodin, as he + showed him the letter: “Here are different reports with regard to + different members of the Rennepont family, whom I have had looked after by + others, my indisposition having kept me at home for the last few days. I + do not know, father, if the state of your health will permit you to hear—” + </p> + <p> + Rodin made a gesture, at once so supplicating and peremptory, that Father + d’Aigrigny felt there would be at least as much danger in refusing + as in granting his request; so, turning towards the cardinal, still + inconsolable at not having discovered the Jesuit’s secret, he said + to him with respectful deference, pointing at the same time to the letter: + “Have I the permission of your Eminence?” + </p> + <p> + The prelate bowed, and replied: “Your affairs are ours, my dear + father. The Church must always rejoice in what rejoices your glorious + Company.” + </p> + <p> + Father d’Aigrigny unsealed the packet, and found in it different + notes in different handwritings. When he had read the first, his + countenance darkened, and he said, in a grave tone: “A misfortune—a + great misfortune.” + </p> + <p> + Rodin turned his head abruptly, and looked at him with an air of uneasy + questioning. + </p> + <p> + “Florine is dead of the cholera,” answered Father d’Aigrigny; + “and what is the worst,” added he, crumpling the note between + his hands, “before dying, the miserable creature confessed to Mdlle. + de Cardoville that she long acted as a spy under the orders of your + reverence.” + </p> + <p> + No doubt the death of Florine, and the confession she had made, crossed + some of the plans of Rodin, for he uttered an inarticulate murmur, and his + countenance expressed great vexation. + </p> + <p> + Passing to another note, Father d’Aigrigny continued: “This + relates to Marshal Simon, and is not absolutely bad, but still far from + satisfactory, as it announces some amelioration in his position. We shall + see if it merits belief, by information from another source.” + </p> + <p> + Rodin made a sign of impatience, to hasten Father d’Aigrigny to read + the note, which he did as follows. “‘For some days, the mind + of the marshal has appeared to be less sorrowful, anxious and agitated. He + lately passed two hours with his daughters, which had not been the case + for some time before. The harsh countenance of the soldier Dagobert is + becoming smoother—a sure sign of some amelioration in the condition + of the marshal. Detected by their handwriting, the last anonymous letters + were returned by Dagobert to the postman, without having been opened by + the marshal. Some other method must be found to get them delivered.’” + </p> + <p> + Looking at Rodin, Father d’Aigrigny said to him: “Your + reverence thinks with me that this note is not very satisfactory?” + </p> + <p> + Rodin held down his head. One saw by the expression of his countenance how + much he suffered by not being able to speak. Twice he put his hand to his + throat, and looked at Father d’Aigrigny with anguish. + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” cried Father d’Aigrigny, angrily, when he had + perused another note, “for one lucky chance, to-day brings some very + black ones.” + </p> + <p> + At these words turning hastily to Father d’Aigrigny, and extending + his trembling hands, Rodin questioned him with look and gesture. The + cardinal, sharing his uneasiness, exclaimed: “What do you learn by + this note, my dear father?” + </p> + <p> + “We thought the residence of M. Hardy in our house completely + unknown,” replied Father d’Aigrigny, “but we now fear + that Agricola Baudoin has discovered the retreat of his old master, and + that he has even communicated with him by letter, through a servant of the + house. So,” added the reverend father, angrily, “during the + three days that I have not been able to visit the pavilion, one of my + servants must have been bought over. There is one of them, a man blind of + one eye, whom I have always suspected—the wretch! But no: I will not + yet believe this treachery. The consequences would be too deplorable; for + I know how matters stand, and that such a correspondence might ruin + everything. By awaking in M. Hardy memories with difficulty laid asleep, + they might destroy in a single day all that has been done since he + inhabits our house. Luckily, this note contains only doubts and fears; my + other information will be more positive, and will not, I hope, confirm + them.” + </p> + <p> + “My dear father,” said the cardinal, “do not despair. + The Lord will not abandon the good cause!” + </p> + <p> + Father d’Aigrigny seemed very little consoled by this assurance. He + remained still and thoughtful, whilst Rodin writhed his head in a paroxysm + of mute rage, as he reflected on this new check. + </p> + <p> + “Let us turn to the last note,” said Father d’Aigrigny, + after a moment of thoughtful silence. “I have so much confidence in + the person who sends it, that I cannot doubt the correctness of the + information it contains. May it contradict the others!” + </p> + <p> + In order not to break the chain of facts contained in this last note, + which was to have so startling an effect on the actors in this scene, we + shall leave it to the reader’s imagination to supply the + exclamations of surprise, hate, rage and fear of Father d’Aigrigny, + and the terrific pantomime of Rodin, during the perusal of this formidable + document, the result of the observations of a faithful and secret agent of + the reverend fathers. Comparing this note with the other information + received, the results appeared more distressing to the reverend fathers. + Thus Gabriel had long and frequent conferences with Adrienne, who before + was unknown to him. Agricola Baudoin had opened a communication with + Francis Hardy, and the officers of justice were on the track of the + authors and instigators of the riot which had led to the burning of the + factory of Baron Tripeaud’s rival. It seemed almost certain that + Mdlle. de Cardoville had had an interview with Prince Djalma. + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:65%;"> + <img src="images/30135m.jpg" alt="30135m” width=" /><br /> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/30135.jpg"><i>Original</i></a> + </h5> + <p> + This combination of facts showed that, faithful to the threats she had + uttered to Rodin, when she had unmasked the double perfidy of the reverend + father, Mdlle. de Cardoville was actively engaged in uniting the scattered + members of her family, to form a league against those dangerous enemies, + whose detestable projects, once unveiled and boldly encountered, could + hardly have a chance of success. The reader will now understand the + tremendous effect of this note on Father d’Aigrigny and Rodin—on + Rodin, stretched powerless on a bed of pain at the moment when the + scaffolding, raised with so much labor, seemed to be tumbling around him. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0134" id="link2HCH0134"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXIX. THE OPERATION. + </h2> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">W</span>e have given up + the attempt to paint the countenance, attitude, and gesticulation of Rodin + during the reading of this note, which seemed to ruin all his most + cherished hopes. Everything was failing at once, at the moment when only + superhuman trust in the success of his plans could give him sufficient + energy to strive against mortal sickness. A single, absorbing thought had + agitated him even to delirium: What progress, during his illness, had been + made in this immense affair? He had first heard a good piece of news, the + death of Jacques Rennepont; but now the advantages of this decease, which + reduced the number of the heirs from seven to six, were entirely lost. To + what purpose would be this death, if the other members of the family, + dispersed and persecuted with such infernal perseverance, were to unite + and discover the enemies who had so long aimed at them in darkness? If all + those wounded hearts were to console, enlighten, support each other, their + cause would be gained, and the inheritance rescued from the reverend + fathers. What was to be done? + </p> + <p> + Strange power of the human will!—Rodin had one foot in the grave, he + was almost at the last gasp; his voice had failed him. And yet that + obstinate nature, so full of energy and resources, did not despair. Let + but a miracle restore his health, and that firm confidence in the success + of his projects which has given him power to struggle against disease, + tells him that he could yet save all—but then he must have health + and life! Health! life! His physician does not know if he will survive the + shock—if he can bear the pain—of a terrible operation. Health! + life! and just now Rodin heard talk of the solemn funeral they had + prepared for him. And yet—health, life, he will have them. Yes; he + has willed to live—and he has lived—why should he not live + longer? He will live—because he has willed it. + </p> + <p> + All that we have just written passed though Rodin’s mind in a + second. His features, convulsed by the mental torment he endured, must + have assumed a very strange expression, for Father d’Aigrigny and + the cardinal looked at him in silent consternation. Once resolved to live, + and to sustain a desperate struggle with the Rennepont family, Rodin acted + in consequence. For a few moments Father d’Aigrigny and the prelate + believed themselves under the influence of a dream. By an effort of + unparalleled energy, and as if moved by hidden mechanism, Rodin sprang + from the bed, dragging the sheet with him, and trailing it, like a shroud, + behind his livid and fleshless body. The room was cold; the face of the + Jesuit was bathed in sweat; his naked and bony feet left their moist print + upon the stones. + </p> + <p> + “What are you doing? It is death!” cried Father d’Aigrigny, + rushing towards Rodin, to force him to lie down again. + </p> + <p> + But the latter, extending one of his skeleton arms, as hard as iron, + pushed aside Father d’Aigrigny with inconceivable vigor, considering + the state of exhaustion in which he had so long been. + </p> + <p> + “He has the strength of a man in a fit of epilepsy,” said + Father d’Aigrigny, recovering his balance. + </p> + <p> + With a steady step Rodin advanced to the desk on which Dr. Baleinier daily + wrote his prescriptions. Seating himself before it, the Jesuit took pen + and paper, and began to write in a firm hand. His calm, slow, and sure + movements had in them something of the deliberateness remarked in + somnambulists. Mute and motionless, hardly knowing whether they dreamed or + not, the cardinal and Father d’Aigrigny remained staring at the + incredible coolness of Rodin, who, half-naked, continued to write with + perfect tranquillity. + </p> + <p> + “But, father,” said the Abbe d’Aigrigny, advancing + towards him, “this is madness!” + </p> + <p> + Rodin shrugged his shoulders, stopped him with a gesture and made him a + sign to read what he had just written. + </p> + <p> + The reverend father expected to see the ravings of a diseased brain; but + he took the note, whilst Rodin commenced another. + </p> + <p> + “My lord,” exclaimed Father d’Aigrigny, “read + this!” + </p> + <p> + The cardinal read the paper, and returning it to the reverend father with + equal amazement, added: “It is full of reason, ability, and + resources. We shall thus be able to neutralize the dangerous combination + of Abbe Gabriel and Mdlle. de Cardoville, who appear to be the most + formidable leaders of the coalition.” + </p> + <p> + “It is really miraculous,” said Father d’Aigrigny. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, my dear father!” whispered the cardinal, shaking his + head; “what a pity that we are the only witnesses of this scene! + What an excellent MIRACLE we could have made of it! In one sense, it is + another Raising of Lazarus!” + </p> + <p> + “What an idea, my lord!” answered Father d’Aigrigny, in + a low voice. “It is perfect—and we must not give it up—” + </p> + <p> + This innocent little plot was interrupted by Rodin, who, turning his head, + made a sign to Father d’Aigrigny to approach, and delivered to him + another sheet, with this note attached: “To be executed within an + hour.” + </p> + <p> + Having rapidly perused the paper, Father d’Aigrigny exclaimed: + “Right! I had not thought of that. Instead of being fatal, the + correspondence between Agricola and M. Hardy may thus have the best + results. Really,” added the reverend father in a low voice to the + prelate, while Rodin continued to write, “I am quite confounded. I + read—I see—and yet I can hardly believe my eyes. Just before, + exhausted and dying—and now with his mind as clear and penetrating + as ever. Can this be one of the phenomena of somnambulism, in which the + mind alone governs and sustains the body?” + </p> + <p> + Suddenly the door opened, and Dr. Baleinier entered the room. At sight of + Rodin, seated half-naked at the desk, with his feet upon the cold stones, + the doctor exclaimed, in a tone of reproach and alarm: “But, my lord—but, + father—it is murder to let the unhappy man do this!—If he is + delirious from fever, he must have the strait-waistcoat, and be tied down + in bed.” + </p> + <p> + So saying. Dr. Baleinier hastily approached Rodin, and took him by the + arm. Instead of finding the skin dry and chilly, as he expected, he found + it flexible, almost damp. Struck with surprise, the doctor sought to feel + the pulse of the left hand, which Rodin resigned, to him, whilst he + continued working with the right. + </p> + <p> + “What a prodigy!” cried the doctor, as he counted Rodin’s + pulse; “for a week past, and even this morning, the pulse has been + abrupt, intermittent, almost insensible, and now it is firm, regular—I + am really puzzled—what then has happened? I can hardly believe what + I see,” added the doctor, turning towards Father d’Aigrigny + and the cardinal. + </p> + <p> + “The reverend father, who had first lost his voice, was next seized + with such furious and violent despair caused by the receipt of bad news,” + answered Father d’Aigrigny, “that we feared a moment for his + life; while now, on the contrary, the reverend father has gained + sufficient strength to go to his desk, and write for some minutes, with a + clearness of argument and expression, which has confounded both the + cardinal and myself.” + </p> + <p> + “There is no longer any doubt of it,” cried the doctor. + “The violent despair has caused a degree of emotion, which will + admirably prepare the reactive crisis, that I am now almost certain of + producing by the operation.” + </p> + <p> + “You persist in the operation?” whispered Father d’Aigrigny, + whilst Rodin continued to write. + </p> + <p> + “I might have hesitated this morning; but, disposed as he now is for + it, I must profit by the moment of excitement, which will be followed by + greater depression.” + </p> + <p> + “Then, without the operation—” said the cardinal. + </p> + <p> + “This fortunate and unexpected crisis will soon be over, and the + reaction may kill him, my lord.” + </p> + <p> + “Have you informed him of the serious nature of the operation?” + </p> + <p> + “Pretty nearly, my lord.” + </p> + <p> + “But it is time to bring him to the point.” + </p> + <p> + “That is what I will do, my lord,” said Dr. Baleinier; and + approaching Rodin, who continued to write, he thus addressed him, in a + firm voice: “My reverend father, do you wish to be up and well in a + week?” + </p> + <p> + Rodin nodded, full of confidence, as much as to say: “I am up + already.” + </p> + <p> + “Do not deceive yourself,” replied the doctor. “This + crisis is excellent, but it will not last, and if we would profit by it, + we must proceed with the operation of which I have spoken to you—or, + I tell you plainly, I answer for nothing after such a shock.” + </p> + <p> + Rodin was the more struck with these words, as, half an hour ago, he had + experienced the short duration of the improvement occasioned by Father d’Aigrigny’s + good news, and as already he felt increased oppression on the chest. + </p> + <p> + Dr. Baleinier, wishing to decide him, added: “In a word, father, + will you live or die?” + </p> + <p> + Rodin wrote rapidly this answer, which he gave to the doctor: “To + live, I would let you cut me limb from limb. I am ready for anything.” + And he made a movement to rise. + </p> + <p> + “I must tell you, reverend father, so as not to take you by + surprise,” added Dr. Baleinier, “that this operation is + cruelly painful.” + </p> + <p> + Rodin shrugged his shoulders and wrote with a firm hand: “Leave me + my head; you may take all the rest.” + </p> + <p> + The doctor read these words aloud, and the cardinal and Father d’Aigrigny + looked at each other in admiration of this dauntless courage. + </p> + <p> + “Reverend father,” said Dr. Baleinier, “you must lie + down.” + </p> + <p> + Rodin wrote: “Get everything ready. I have still some orders to + write. Let me know when it is time.” + </p> + <p> + Then folding up a paper, which he had sealed with a wafer, Rodin gave + these words to Father d’Aigrigny: “Send this note instantly to + the agent who addressed the anonymous letters to Marshal Simon.” + </p> + <p> + “Instantly, reverend father,” replied the abbe; “I will + employ a sure messenger.” + </p> + <p> + “Reverend father,” said Baleinier to Rodin, “since you + must write, lie down in bed, and write there, during our little + preparations.” + </p> + <p> + Rodin made an affirmative gesture, and rose. But already the prognostics + of the doctor were realized. The Jesuit could hardly remain standing for a + second; he fell back into a chair, and looked at Dr. Baleinier with + anguish, whilst his breathing became more and more difficult. + </p> + <p> + The doctor said to him: “Do not be uneasy. But we must make haste. + Lean upon me and Father d’Aigrigny.” + </p> + <p> + Aided by these two supporters, Rodin was able to regain the bed. Once + there, he made signs that they should bring him pen, ink, and paper. Then + he continued to write upon his knees, pausing from time to time, to + breathe with great difficulty. + </p> + <p> + “Reverend father,” said Baleinier to d’Aigrigny, “are + you capable of acting as one of my assistants in the operation? Have you + that sort of courage?” + </p> + <p> + “No,” said the reverend father; “in the army I could + never assist at an amputation. The sight of blood is too much for me.” + </p> + <p> + “There will be no blood,” said the doctor, “but it will + be worse. Please send me three of our reverend fathers to assist me, and + ask M. Rousselet to bring in the apparatus.” + </p> + <p> + Father d’Aigrigny went out. The prelate approached the doctor, and + whispered, pointing to Rodin: “Is he out of danger?” + </p> + <p> + “If he stands the operation—yes, my lord.” + </p> + <p> + “Are you sure that he can stand it?” + </p> + <p> + “To him I should say ‘yes,’ to you ‘I hope so.’” + </p> + <p> + “And were he to die, would there be time to administer the + sacraments in public, with a certain pomp, which always causes some little + delay?” + </p> + <p> + “His dying may continue, my lord—a quarter of an hour.” + </p> + <p> + “It is short, but we must be satisfied with that,” said the + prelate. + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:65%;"> + <img src="images/30141m.jpg" alt="30141m” width=" /><br /> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/30141.jpg"><i>Original</i></a> + </h5> + <p> + And, going to one of the windows, he began to tap with his fingers on the + glass, while he thought of the illumination effects, in the event of Rodin’s + lying in state. At this moment, Rousselet entered, with a large square box + under his arm. He placed it on the drawers, and began to arrange his + apparatus. + </p> + <p> + “How many have you prepared?” said the doctor. + </p> + <p> + “Six, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “Four will do, but it is well to be fully provided. The cotton is + not too thick?” + </p> + <p> + “Look, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “Very good.” + </p> + <p> + “And how is the reverend father?” asked the pupil. + </p> + <p> + “Humph!” answered the doctor, in a whisper. “The chest + is terribly clogged, the respiration hissing, the voice gone—still + there is a change.” + </p> + <p> + “All my fear is, sir, that the reverend father will not be able to + stand the dreadful pain.” + </p> + <p> + “It is another chance; but, under the circumstances, we must risk + all. Come, my dear boy, light the—taper; I hear our assistants.” + </p> + <p> + Just then Father d’Aigrigny entered the room, accompanied by the + three Jesuits, who, in the morning, had walked in the garden. The two old + men, with their rosy cheeks, and the young one, with the ascetic + countenance, all three dressed in black, with their square caps and white + bands, appeared perfectly ready to assist Dr. Baleinier in his formidable + operation. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0135" id="link2HCH0135"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXX. THE TORTURE. + </h2> + <p> + “Reverend fathers,” said Dr. Baleinier, graciously, to the + three, “I thank you for your kind aid. What you have to do is very + simple, and, by the blessing of heaven, this operation will save the life + of our dear Father Rodin.” + </p> + <p> + The three black-gowns cast up their eyes piously, and then bowed + altogether, like one man. Rodin, indifferent to what was passing around + him, never ceased an instant to write or reflect. Nevertheless, in spite + of his apparent calmness, he felt such difficulty in breathing, that more + than once Dr. Baleinier had turned round uneasily, as he heard the stifled + rattling in the throat of the sick man. Making a sign to his pupil, the + doctor approached Rodin and said to him: “Come, reverend father; + this is the important moment. Courage!” + </p> + <p> + No sign of alarm was expressed in the Jesuit’s countenance. His + features remained impassible as those of a corpse. Only, his little + reptile eyes sparkled still more brightly in their dark cavities. For a + moment, he looked round at the spectators of this scene; then, taking his + pen between his teeth, he folded and wafered another letter, placed it on + the table beside the bed, and nodded to Dr. Baleinier, as if to say: + “I am ready.” + </p> + <p> + “You must take off your flannel waistcoat, and your shirt, father.” + Rodin hesitated an instant, and the doctor resumed: “It is + absolutely necessary, father.” + </p> + <p> + Aided by Baleinier, Rodin obeyed, whilst the doctor added, no doubt to + spare his modesty: “We shall only require the chest, right and left, + my dear father.” + </p> + <p> + And now, Rodin, stretched upon his back, with his dirty night-cap still on + his head, exposed the upper part of a livid trunk, or rather, the bony + cage of a skeleton, for the shadows of the ribs and cartilages encircled + the skin with deep, black lines. As for the arms, they resembled bones + twisted with cord and covered with tanned parchment. + </p> + <p> + “Come, M. Rousselet, the apparatus!” said Baleinier. + </p> + <p> + Then addressing the three Jesuits, he added: “Please draw near, + gentlemen; what you have to do is very simple, as you will see.” + </p> + <p> + It was indeed very simple. The doctor gave to each of his four assistants + a sort of little steel tripod about two inches in diameter and three in + height; the circular centre of this tripod was filled with cotton; the + instrument was held in the left hand by means of a wooden handle. In the + right hand each assistant held a small tin tube about eighteen inches + long; at one end was a mouthpiece to receive the lips of the operator, and + the other spread out so as to form a cover to the little tripod. These + preparations had nothing alarming in them. Father d’Aigrigny and the + prelate, who looked on from a little distance, could not understand how + this operation should be so painful. They soon understood it. + </p> + <p> + Dr. Baleinier, having thus provided his four assistants, made them + approach Rodin, whose bed had been rolled into the middle of the room. Two + of them were placed on one side, two on the other. + </p> + <p> + “Now, gentlemen,” said Dr. Baleinier, “set light to the + cotton; place the lighted part on the skin of his reverence, by means of + the tripod which contains the wick; cover the tripod with the broad part + of the tube, and then blow through the other end to keep up the fire. It + is very simple, as you see.” + </p> + <p> + It was, in fact, full of the most patriarchal and primitive ingenuity. + Four lighted cotton rocks, so disposed as to burn very slowly, were + applied to the two sides of Rodin’s chest. This is vulgarly called + the moxa. The trick is done, when the whole thickness of the skin has been + burnt slowly through. It lasts seven or eight minutes. They say that an + amputation is nothing to it. Rodin had watched the preparations with + intrepid curiosity. But, at the first touch of the four fires, he writhed + like a serpent, without being able to utter a cry. Even the expression of + pain was denied him. The four assistants being disturbed by, the sudden + start of Rodin, it was necessary to begin again. + </p> + <p> + “Courage, my dear father! offer these sufferings to the Lord!” + said Dr. Baleinier, in a sanctified tone. “I told you the operation + would be very painful; but then it is salutary in proportion. Come; you + that have shown such decisive resolution, do not fail at the last + movement!” + </p> + <p> + Rodin had closed his eyes, conquered by the first agony of pain. He now + opened them, and looked at the doctor as if ashamed of such weakness. And + yet on the sides of his chest were four large, bleeding wounds—so + violent had been the first singe. As he again extended himself on the bed + of torture, Rodin made a sign that he wished to write. The doctor gave him + the pen, and he wrote as follows, by way of memorandum; “It is + better not to lose any time. Inform Baron Tripeaud of the warrant issued + against Leonard, so that he may be on his guard.” + </p> + <p> + Having written this note, the Jesuit gave it to Dr. Baleinier, to hand it + to Father d’Aigrigny, who was as much amazed as the doctor and the + cardinal, at such extraordinary presence of mind in the midst of such + horrible pain. Rodin, with his eyes fixed on the reverend father, seemed + to wait with impatience for him to leave the room to execute his orders. + Guessing the thought of Rodin, the doctor whispered Father d’Aigrigny, + who went out. + </p> + <p> + “Come, reverend father,” said the doctor, “we must begin + again. This time do not move.” + </p> + <p> + Rodin did not answer, but clasped his hands over his head, closed his + eyes, and presented his chest. It was a strange, lugubrious, almost + fantastic spectacle. The three priests, in their long black gowns, leaned + over this body, which almost resembled a corpse, and blowing through their + tubes into the chest of the patient, seemed as if pumping up his blood by + some magic charm. A sickening odor of burnt flesh began to spread through + the silent chamber, and each assistant heard a slight crackling beneath + the smoking trivet; it was the skin of Rodin giving way to the action of + fire, and splitting open in four different parts of his chest. The sweat + poured from his livid face, which it made to shine; a few locks of his + gray hair stood up stiff and moist from his temples. Sometimes the spasms + were so violent, that the veins swelled on his stiffened arms, and were + stretched like cords ready to break. + </p> + <p> + Enduring this frightful torture with as much intrepid resignation as the + savage whose glory consists in despising pain, Rodin gathered his strength + and courage from the hope—we had almost said the certainty—of + life. Such was the make of this dauntless character, such the energy of + this powerful mind, that, in the midst of indescribable torments, his one + fixed idea never left him. During the rare intervals of suffering—for + pain is equal even at this degree of intensity—Rodin still thought + of the Rennepont inheritance, and calculated his chances, and combined his + measures, feeling that he had not a minute to lose. Dr. Baleinier watched + him with extreme attention, waiting for the effects of the reaction of + pain upon the patient, who seemed already to breathe with less difficulty. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly Rodin placed his hand on his forehead, as if struck with some new + idea, and turning his head towards Dr. Baleinier, made a sign to him to + suspend the operation. + </p> + <p> + “I must tell you, reverend father,” answered the doctor, + “that it is not half finished, and, if we leave off, the renewal + will be more painful—” + </p> + <p> + Rodin made a sign that he did not care, and that he wanted to write. + </p> + <p> + “Gentlemen, stop a moment,” said Dr. Baleinier; “keep + down your moxas, but do not blow the fire.” + </p> + <p> + So the fire was to burn slowly, instead of fiercely, but still upon the + skin of the patient. In spite of this pain, less intense, but still sharp + and keen, Rodin, stretched upon his back, began to write, holding the + paper above his head. On the first sheet he traced some alphabetic signs, + part of a cipher known to himself alone. In the midst of the torture, a + luminous idea had crossed his mind; fearful of forgetting it amidst his + sufferings, he now took note of it. On another paper he wrote the + following, which was instantly delivered to Father d’Aigrigny: + “Send B. immediately to Faringhea, for the report of the last few + days with regard to Djalma, and let B. bring it hither on the instant.” + Father d’Aigrigny went out to execute this new order. The cardinal + approached a little nearer to the scene of the operation, for, in spite of + the bad odor of the room, he took delight in seeing the Jesuit half + roasted, having long cherished against him the rancor of an Italian and a + priest. + </p> + <p> + “Come, reverend father,” said the doctor to Rodin, “continue + to be admirably courageous, and your chest will free itself. You have + still a bitter moment to go through—and then I have good hope.” + </p> + <p> + The patient resumed his former position. The moment Father d’Aigrigny + returned, Rodin questioned him with a look, to which the reverend father + replied by a nod. At a sign from the doctor, the four assistants began to + blow through the tubes with all their might. This increase of torture was + so horrible, that, in spite of his self-control, Rodin gnashed his teeth, + started convulsively, and so expanded his palpitating chest, that, after a + violent spasm, there rose from his throat and lungs a scream of terrific + pain—but it was free, loud, sonorous. + </p> + <p> + “The chest is free!” cried the doctor, in triumph. “The + lungs have play—the voice returns—he is saved!—Blow, + gentlemen, blow; and, reverend father, cry out as much as you please: I + shall be delighted to hear you, for it will give you relief. Courage! I + answer for the result. It is a wonderful cure. I will publish it by sound + of trumpet.” + </p> + <p> + “Allow me, doctor,” whispered Father d’Aigrigny, as he + approached Dr. Baleinier; “the cardinal can witness, that I claimed + beforehand the publication of this affair—as a miraculous fact.” + </p> + <p> + “Let it be miraculous then,” answered Dr. Baleinier, + disappointed—for he set some value on his own work. + </p> + <p> + On hearing he was saved, Rodin though his sufferings were perhaps worse + than ever, for the fire had now pierced the scarf-skin, assumed almost an + infernal beauty. Through the painful contraction of his features shone the + pride of savage triumph; the monster felt that he was becoming once more + strong and powerful, and he seemed conscious the evils that his fatal + resurrection was to cause. And so, of still writhing beneath the flames, + he pronounced these words, the first that struggled from his chest: + “I told you I should live!” + </p> + <p> + “You told us true,” cried the doctor, feeling his pulse; + “the circulation is now full and regular, the lungs are free. The + reaction is complete. You are saved.” + </p> + <p> + At this moment, the last shreds of cotton had burnt out. The trivets were + withdrawn, and on the skeleton trunk of Rodin were seen four large round + blisters. The skin still smoked, and the raw flesh was visible beneath. In + one of his sudden movements, a lamp had been misplaced, and one of these + burns was larger than the other, presenting as it were to the eye a double + circle. Rodin looked down upon his wounds. After some seconds of silent + contemplation, a strange smile curled his lips. Without changing his + position, he glanced at Father d’Aigrigny with an expression + impossible to describe, and said to him, as he slowly counted the wounds + touching them with his flat and dirty nail: “Father d’Aigrigny, + what an omen!—Look here! one Rennepont—two Renneponts—three + Renneponts—four Renneponts—where is then the fifth!—Ah! + here—this wound will count for two. They are twins.”(41) And he + emitted a little dry, bitter laugh. Father d’Aigrigny, the cardinal, + and Dr. Baleinier, alone understood the sense of these mysterious and + fatal words, which Rodin soon completed by a terrible allusion, as he + exclaimed, with prophetic voice, and almost inspired air: “Yes, I + say it. The impious race will be reduced to ashes, like the fragments of + this poor flesh. I say it, and it will be so. I said I would live—and + I do live!” + </p> + <p> + (41) Jacques Rennepont being dead, and Gabriel out of the field, in + consequence of his donation, there remained only five persons of the + family—Rose and Blanche, Djalma, Adrienne, and Hardy. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0136" id="link2HCH0136"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXXI. VICE AND VIRTUE. + </h2> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>wo days have + elapsed since Rodin was miraculously restored to life. The reader will not + have forgotten the house in the Rue Clovis, where the reverend father had + an apartment, and where also was the lodging of Philemon, inhabited by + Rose-Pompon. It is about three o’clock in the afternoon. A bright + ray of light, penetrating through a round hole in the door Mother Arsene’s + subterraneous shop, forms a striking contrast with the darkness of this + cavern. The ray streams full upon a melancholy object. In the midst of + fagots and faded vegetables, and close to a great heap of charcoal, stands + a wretched bed; beneath the sheet, which covers it, can be traced the + stiff and angular proportions of a corpse. It is the body of Mother Arsene + herself, who died two days before, of the cholera. The burials have been + so numerous, that there has been no time to remove her remains. The Rue + Clovis is almost deserted. A mournful silence reigns without, often broken + by the sharp whistling of the north wind. Between the squalls, one hears a + sort of pattering. It is the noise of the large rats, running to and fro + across the heap of charcoal. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly, another sound is heard, and these unclean animals fly to hide + themselves in their holes. Some one is trying to force open the door, + which communicates between the shop and the passage. It offers but little + resistance, and, in a few seconds, the worn-out lock gives way, and a + woman enters. For a short time she stands motionless in the obscurity of + the damp and icy cave. After a minute’s hesitation, the woman + advances and the ray of light illumines the features of the Bacchanal + Queen. Slowly, she approached the funeral couch. Since the death of + Jacques, the alteration in the countenance of Cephyse had gone on + increasing. Fearfully pale, with her fine black hair in disorder, her legs + and feet naked, she was barely covered with an old patched petticoat and a + very ragged handkerchief. + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:65%;"> + <img src="images/30149m.jpg" alt="30149m” width=" /><br /> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/30149.jpg"><i>Original</i></a> + </h5> + <p> + When she came near the bed, she cast a glance of almost savage assurance + at the shroud. Suddenly she drew back, with a low cry of involuntary + terror. The sheet moved with a rapid undulation, extending from the feet + to the head of the corpse. But soon the sight of a rat, flying along the + side of the worm-eaten bedstead, explained the movement of the shroud. + Recovering from her fright, Cephyse began to look for several things, and + collected them in haste, as though she dreaded being surprised in the + miserable shop. First, she seized a basket, and filled it with charcoal; + then, looking from side to side, she discovered in a corner an earthen + pot, which she took with a burst of ominous joy. + </p> + <p> + “It is not all, it is not all,” said Cephyse, as she continued + to search with an unquiet air. + </p> + <p> + At last she perceived near the stove a little tin box, containing flint, + steel and matches. She placed these articles on the top of the basket, and + took it in one hand, and the earthen pot in the other. As she passed near + the corpse of the poor charcoal-dealer, Cephyse said, with a strange + smile: “I rob you, poor Mother Arsene, but my theft will not do me + much good.” + </p> + <p> + Cephyse left the shop, reclosed the door as well as she could, went up the + passage, and crossed the little court-yard which separated the front of + the building from that part in which Rodin had lodged. With the exception + of the windows of Philemon’s apartment, where Rose-Pompon had so + often sat perched like a bird, warbling Beranger, the other windows of the + house were open. There had been deaths on the first and second floors, + and, like many others, they were waiting for the cart piled up with + coffins. + </p> + <p> + The Bacchanal Queen gained the stairs, which led to the chambers formerly + occupied by Rodin. Arrived at the landing-place she ascended another + ruinous staircase, steep as a ladder, and with nothing but an old rope for + a rail. She at length reached the half-rotten door of a garret, situated + in the roof. The house was in such a state of dilapidation, that, in many + places the roof gave admission to the rain, and allowed it to penetrate + into this cell, which was not above ten feet square, and lighted by an + attic window. All the furniture consisted of an old straw mattress, laid + upon the ground, with the straw peeping out from a rent in its ticking; a + small earthenware pitcher, with the spout broken, and containing a little + water, stood by the side of this couch. Dressed in rags, Mother Bunch was + seated on the side of the mattress, with her elbows on her knees, and her + face concealed in her thin, white hands. When Cephyse entered the room, + the adopted sister of Agricola raised her head; her pale, mild face seemed + thinner than ever, hollow with suffering, grief, misery; her eyes, red + with weeping, were fixed on her sister with an expression of mournful + tenderness. + </p> + <p> + “I have what we want, sister,” said Cephyse, in a low, deep + voice; “in this basket there is wherewith to finish our misery.” + </p> + <p> + Then, showing to Mother Bunch the articles she had just placed on the + floor, she added: “For the first time in my life, I have been a + thief. It made me ashamed and frightened; I was never intended for that or + worse. It is a pity.” added she, with a sardonic smile. + </p> + <p> + After a moment’s silence, the hunchback said to her sister, in a + heart rending tone: “Cephyse—my dear Cephyse—are you + quite determined to die?” + </p> + <p> + “How should I hesitate?” answered Cephyse, in a firm voice. + “Come, sister, let us once more make our reckoning. If even I could + forget my shame, and Jacques’ contempt in his last moments, what + would remain to me? Two courses only: first, to be honest, and work for my + living. But you know that, in spite of the best will in the world, work + will often fail, as it has failed for the last few days, and, even when I + got it, I would have to live on four to five francs a week. Live? that is + to say, die by inches. I know that already, and I prefer dying at once. + The other course would be to live a life of infamy—and that I will + not do. Frankly, sister, between frightful misery, infamy, or death, can + the choice be doubtful? Answer me!” + </p> + <p> + Then, without giving Mother Bunch time to speak, Cephyse added, in an + abrupt tone: “Besides, what is the good of discussing it? I have + made up my mind, and nothing shall prevent my purpose, since all that you, + dear sister, could obtain from me, was a delay of a few days, to see if + the cholera would not save us the trouble. To please you I consented; the + cholera has come, killed every one else in the house, but left us. You + see, it is better to do one’s own business,” added she, again + smiling bitterly. Then she resumed: “Besides, dear sister, you also + wish to finish with life.” + </p> + <p> + “It is true, Cephyse,” answered the sempstress, who seemed + very much depressed; “but alone—one has only to answer for one’s + self—and to die with you,” added she, shuddering, “appears + like being an accomplice in your death.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you wish, then, to make an end of it, I in one place, you in + another?—that would be agreeable!” said Cephyse, displaying in + that terrible moment the sort of bitter and despairing irony which is more + frequent than may be imagined in the midst of mortal anguish. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no, no!” said the other in alarm, “not alone—I + will not die alone!” + </p> + <p> + “Do you not see, dear sister, we are right not to part? And yet,” + added Cephyse, in a voice of emotion, “my heart almost breaks + sometimes, to think that you will die like me.” + </p> + <p> + “How selfish!” said the hunchback, with a faint smile. “What + reasons have I to love life? What void shall I leave behind me?” + </p> + <p> + “But you are a martyr, sister,” resumed Cephyse. “The + priests talk of saints! Is there one of them so good as you? And yet you + are about to die like me, who have always been idle, careless, sinful—while + you were so hardworking, so devoted to all who suffered. What should I + say? You were an angel on the earth; and yet you will die like me, who + have fallen as low as a woman can fall,” added the unfortunate, + casting down her eyes. + </p> + <p> + “It is strange,” answered Mother Bunch, thoughtfully. “Starting + from the same point, we have followed different roads, and yet we have + reached the same goal—disgust of life. For you, my poor sister, but + a few days ago, life was so fair, so full of pleasure and of youth; and + now it is equally heavy with us both. After all, I have followed to the + end what was my duty,” added she, mildly. “Agricola no longer + needs me. He is married; he loves, and is beloved; his happiness is + secured. Mdlle. de Cardoville wants for nothing. Fair, rich, prosperous—what + could a poor creature like myself do for her? Those who have been kind to + me are happy. What prevents my going now to my rest? I am so weary!” + </p> + <p> + “Poor sister!” said Cephyse, with touching emotion, which + seemed to expand her contracted features; “when I think that, + without informing me, and in spite of your resolution never to see that + generous young lady, who protected you, you yet had the courage to drag + yourself to her house, dying with fatigue and want, to try to interest her + in my fate—yes, dying, for your strength failed on the + Champs-Elysees.” + </p> + <p> + “And when I was able to reach the mansion, Mdlle. de Cardoville was + unfortunately absent—very unfortunately!” repeated the + hunchback, as she looked at Cephyse with anguish; “for the next day, + seeing that our last resource had failed us, thinking more of me than of + yourself, and determined at any price to procure us bread—” + </p> + <p> + She could not finish. She buried her face in her hands, and shuddered. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I did as so many other hapless women have done when work + fails or wages do not suffice, and hunger becomes too pressing,” + replied Cephyse, in a broken voice; “only that, unlike so many + others, instead of living on my shame, I shall die of it.” + </p> + <p> + “Alas! this terrible shame which kills you, my poor Cephyse, because + you have a heart, would have been averted, had I seen Mdlle. de + Cardoville, or had she but answered the letter which I asked leave to + write to her at the porter’s lodge. But her silence proves to me + that she is justly hurt at my abrupt departure from her house. I can + understand it; she believes me guilty of the blackest ingratitude—for + she must have been greatly offended not to have deigned to answer me—and + therefore I had not the courage to write a second time. It would have been + useless, I am sure; for, good and just as she is, her refusals are + inexorable when she believes them deserved. And besides, for what good? It + was too late; you had resolved to die!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes, quite resolved: for my infamy was gnawing at my heart. + Jacques had died in my arms despising me; and I loved him—mark me, + sister,” added Cephyse, with passionate enthusiasm, “I loved + him as we love only once in life!” + </p> + <p> + “Let our fate be accomplished, then!” said Mother Bunch with a + pensive air. + </p> + <p> + “But you have never told me, sister, the cause of your departure + from Mdlle. de Cardoville’s,” resumed Cephyse, after a moment’s + silence. + </p> + <p> + “It will be the only secret that I shall take with me, dear Cephyse,” + said the other, casting down her eyes. And she thought, with bitter joy, + that she would soon be delivered from the fear which had poisoned the last + days of her sad life—the fear of meeting Agricola, informed of the + fatal and ridiculous love she felt for him. + </p> + <p> + For, it must be said, this fatal and despairing love was one of the causes + of the suicide of the unfortunate creature. Since the disappearance of her + journal, she believed that the blacksmith knew the melancholy secret + contained in its sad pages. She doubted not the generosity and good heart + of Agricola; but she had such doubts of herself, she was so ashamed of + this passion, however pure and noble, that, even in the extremity to which + Cephyse and herself were reduced—wanting work, wanting bread—no + power on earth could have induced her to meet Agricola, in an attempt to + ask him for assistance. Doubtless, she would have taken another view of + the subject if her mind had not been obscured by that sort of dizziness to + which the firmest characters are exposed when their misfortunes surpass + all bounds. Misery, hunger, the influence, almost contagious in such a + moment, of the suicidal ideas of Cephyse, and weariness of a life so long + devoted to pain and mortification, gave the last blow to the sewing-girl’s + reason. After long struggling against the fatal design of her sister, the + poor, dejected, broken-hearted creature finished by determining to share + Cephyse’s fate, and seek in death the end of so many evils. + </p> + <p> + “Of what are you thinking, sister?” said Cephyse, astonished + at the long silence. The other replied, trembling: “I think of that + which made me leave Mdlle. de Cardoville so abruptly, and appear so + ungrateful in her eyes. May the fatality which drove me from her house + have made no other victims! may my devoted service, however obscure and + powerless, never be missed by her, who extended her noble hand to the poor + sempstress, and deigned to call me sister! May she be happy—oh, ever + happy!” said Mother Bunch, clasping her hands with the ardor of a + sincere invocation. + </p> + <p> + “That is noble, sister—such a wish in such a moment!” + said Cephyse. + </p> + <p> + “Oh,” said her sister, with energy, “I loved, I admired + that marvel of genius, and heart, and ideal beauty—I viewed her with + pious respect—for never was the power of the Divinity revealed in a + more adorable and purer creation. At least one of my last thoughts will + have been of her.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, you will have loved and respected your generous patroness to + the last.” + </p> + <p> + “To the last!” said the poor girl, after a moment’s + silence. “It is true—you are right—it will soon be the + last!—in a few moments, all will be finished. See how calmly we can + talk of that which frightens so many others!” + </p> + <p> + “Sister, we are calm because we are resolved.” + </p> + <p> + “Quite resolved, Cephyse,” said the hunchback, casting once + more a deep and penetrating glance upon her sister. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes, if you are only as determined as I am.” + </p> + <p> + “Be satisfied; if I put off from day to day the final moment,” + answered the sempstress, “it was because I wished to give you time + to reflect. As for me—” + </p> + <p> + She did not finish, but she shook her head with an air of the utmost + despondency. + </p> + <p> + “Well, sister, let us kiss each other,” said Cephyse; “and, + courage!” + </p> + <p> + The hunchback rose, and threw herself into her sister’s arms. They + held one another fast in a long embrace. There followed a few seconds of + deep and solemn silence, only interrupted by the sobs of the sisters, for + now they had begun to weep. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, heaven! to love each other so, and to part forever!” said + Cephyse. “It is a cruel fate.” + </p> + <p> + “To part?” cried Mother Bunch, and her pale, mild countenance, + bathed in tears, was suddenly illumined with a ray of divine hope; “to + part, sister? oh, no! What makes me so calm is the deep and certain + expectation, which I feel here at my heart, of that better world where a + better life awaits us. God, so great, so merciful, so prodigal of good, + cannot destine His creatures to be forever miserable. Selfish men may + pervert His benevolent designs, and reduce their brethren to a state of + suffering and despair. Let us pity the wicked and leave them! Come up on + high, sister; men are nothing there, where God is all. We shall do well + there. Let us depart, for it is late.” + </p> + <p> + So saying, she pointed to the ruddy beams of the setting sun, which began + to shine upon the window. + </p> + <p> + Carried away by the religious enthusiasm of her sister, whose countenance, + transfigured, as it were, by the hope of an approaching deliverance, + gleamed brightly in the reflected sunset, Cephyse took her hands, and, + looking at her with deep emotion, exclaimed, “Oh, sister! how + beautiful you look now!” + </p> + <p> + “Then my beauty comes rather late in the day,” said Mother + Bunch, with a sad smile. + </p> + <p> + “No, sister; for you appear so happy, that the last scruples I had + upon your account are quite gone.” + </p> + <p> + “Then let us make haste,” said the hunchback, as she pointed + to the chafing-dish. + </p> + <p> + “Be satisfied, sister—it will not be long,” said + Cephyse. And she took the chafing-dish full of charcoal, which she had + placed in a corner of the garret, and brought it out into the middle of + the room. + </p> + <p> + “Do you know how to manage it?” asked the sewing-girl + approaching. + </p> + <p> + “Oh! it is very simple,” answered Cephyse; “we have only + to close the door and window, and light the charcoal.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sister; but I think I have heard that every opening must be + well stopped, so as to admit no current of air.” + </p> + <p> + “You are right, and the door shuts so badly.” + </p> + <p> + “And look at the holes in the roof.” + </p> + <p> + “What is to be done, sister?” + </p> + <p> + “I will tell you,” said Mother Bunch. “The straw of our + mattress, well twisted, will answer every purpose.” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly,” replied Cephyse. “We will keep a little to + light our fire, and with the rest we will stop up all the crevices in the + roof, and make filling for our doors and windows.” + </p> + <p> + Then, smiling with that bitter irony, so frequent, we repeat, in the most + gloomy moments, Cephyse added, “I say, sister, weather-boards at our + doors and windows, to prevent the air from getting in—what a luxury! + we are as delicate as rich people.” + </p> + <p> + “At such a time, we may as well try to make ourselves a little + comfortable,” said Mother Bunch, trying to jest like the Bacchanal + Queen. + </p> + <p> + And with incredible coolness, the two began to twist the straw into + lengths of braid, small enough to be stuffed into the cracks of the door, + and also constructed large plugs, destined to stop up the crevices in the + roof. While this mournful occupation lasted, there was no departure from + the calm and sad resignation of the two unfortunate creatures. + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:65%;"> + <img src="images/30157m.jpg" alt="30157m” width=" /><br /> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/30157.jpg"><i>Original</i></a> + </h5> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0137" id="link2HCH0137"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXXII. SUICIDE. + </h2> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">C</span>ephyse and her + sister continued with calmness the preparations for their death. + </p> + <p> + Alas! how many poor young girls, like these sisters, have been, and still + will be, fatally driven to seek in suicide a refuge from despair, from + infamy, or from a too miserable existence! And upon society will rest the + terrible responsibility of these sad deaths, so long as thousands of human + creatures, unable to live upon the mockery of wages granted to their + labor, have to choose between these three gulfs of shame and woe; a life + of enervating toil and mortal privations, causes of premature death; + prostitution, which kills also, but slowly—by contempt, brutality, + and uncleanness; suicide—which kills at once. + </p> + <p> + In a few minutes, the two sisters had constructed, with the straw of their + couch, the calkings necessary to intercept the air, and to render + suffocation more expeditious and certain. + </p> + <p> + The hunchback said to her sister, “You are the taller, Cephyse, and + must look to the ceiling; I will take care of the window and door.” + </p> + <p> + “Be satisfied, sister; I shall have finished before you,” + answered Cephyse. + </p> + <p> + And the two began carefully to stop up every crevice through which a + current of air could penetrate into the ruined garret. Thanks to her tall + stature, Cephyse was able to reach the holes in the roof, and to close + them up entirely. When they had finished this sad work, the sisters again + approached, and looked at each other in silence. + </p> + <p> + The fatal moment drew near; their faces, though still calm, seemed + slightly agitated by that strange excitement which always accompanies a + double suicide. + </p> + <p> + “Now,” said Mother Bunch, “now for the fire!” + </p> + <p> + She knelt down before the little chafing-dish, filled with charcoal. But + Cephyse took hold of her under the arm, and obliged her to rise again, + saying to her, “Let me light the fire—that is my business.” + </p> + <p> + “But, Cephyse—” + </p> + <p> + “You know, poor sister, that the smell of charcoal gives you the + headache!” + </p> + <p> + At the simplicity of this speech, for the Bacchanal Queen had spoken + seriously, the sisters could not forbear smiling sadly. + </p> + <p> + “Never mind,” resumed Cephyse; “why suffer more and + sooner than is necessary?” + </p> + <p> + Then, pointing to the mattress, which still contained a little straw, + Cephyse added, “Lie down there, good little sister; when our fire is + alight, I will come and sit down by you.” + </p> + <p> + “Do not be long, Cephyse.” + </p> + <p> + “In five minutes it will be done.” + </p> + <p> + The tall building, which faced the street, was separated by a narrow court + from that which contained the retreat of the two sisters, and was so much + higher, that when the sun had once disappeared behind its lofty roof, the + garret soon became dark. The light, passing through the dirty panes of the + small window, fell faintly on the blue and white patchwork of the old + mattress, on which Mother Bunch was now stretched, covered with rags. + Leaning on her left arm, with her chin resting in the palm of her hand, + she looked after her sister with an expression of heart-rending grief. + Cephyse, kneeling over the chafing-dish, with her face close to the black + charcoal, above which already played a little bluish flame, exerted + herself to blow the newly-kindled fire, which was reflected on the pale + countenance of the unhappy girl. + </p> + <p> + The silence was deep. No sound was heard but the panting breath of + Cephyse, and, at intervals, the slight crackling of the charcoal, which + began to burn, and already sent forth a faint sickening vapor. Cephyse, + seeing the fire completely lighted, and feeling already a little dizzy, + rose from the ground, and said to her sister, as she approached her, + “It is done!” + </p> + <p> + “Sister,” answered Mother Bunch, kneeling on the mattress, + whilst Cephyse remained standing, “how shall we place ourselves? I + should like to be near you to the last.” + </p> + <p> + “Stop!” said Cephyse, half executing the measures of which she + spoke, “I will sit on the mattress with my back against the wall. + Now, little sister, you lie there. Lean your head upon my knees, and give + me your hand. Are you comfortable so?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes—but I cannot see you.” + </p> + <p> + “That is better. It seems there is a moment—very short, it is + true—in which one suffers a good deal. And,” added Cephyse, in + a voice of emotion, “it will be as well not to see each other + suffer.” + </p> + <p> + “You are right, Cephyse.” + </p> + <p> + “Let me kiss that beautiful hair for the last time,” said + Cephyse, as she pressed her lips to the silky locks which crowned the + hunchback’s pale and melancholy countenance, “and then—we + will remain very quiet.” + </p> + <p> + “Sister, your hand,” said the sewing-girl; “for the last + time, your hand—and then, as you say, we will move no more. We shall + not have to wait long, I think, for I begin to feel dizzy. And you, + sister?” + </p> + <p> + “Not yet,” replied Cephyse; “I only perceive the smell + of the charcoal.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you know where they will bury us?” said Mother Bunch, + after a moment’s silence. + </p> + <p> + “No. Why do you ask?” + </p> + <p> + “Because I should like it to be in Pere-la-Chaise. I went there once + with Agricola and his mother. What a fine view there is!—and then + the trees, the flowers, the marble—do you know the dead are better + lodged—than the living—and—” + </p> + <p> + “What is the matter, sister?” said Cephyse to her companion, + who had stopped short, after speaking in a slow voice. + </p> + <p> + “I am giddy—my temples throb,” was the answer. “How + do you feel?” + </p> + <p> + “I only begin to be a little faint; it is strange—the effect + is slower with me than you.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! you see,” said Mother Bunch, trying to smile, “I + was always so forward. At school, do you remember, they said I was before + the others. And, now it happens again.” + </p> + <p> + “I hope soon to overtake you this time,” said Cephyse. + </p> + <p> + What astonished the sisters was quite natural. Though weakened by sorrow + and misery, the Bacchanal Queen, with a constitution as robust as the + other was frail and delicate, was necessarily longer than her sister in + feeling the effects of the deleterious vapor. After a moment’s + silence, Cephyse resumed, as she laid her hand on the head she still held + upon her knees, “You say nothing, sister! You suffer, is it not so?” + </p> + <p> + “No,” said Mother Bunch, in a weak voice; “my eyelids + are heavy as lead—I am getting benumbed—I feel that I speak + more slowly—but I have no acute pain. And you, sister?” + </p> + <p> + “Whilst you were speaking, I felt giddy—and now my temples + throb violently.” + </p> + <p> + “As it was with me just now. One would think it was more painful and + difficult to die.” + </p> + <p> + Then after a moment’s silence, the hunchback said suddenly to her + sister, “Do you think that Agricola will much regret me, and think + of me for some time?” + </p> + <p> + “How can you ask?” said Cephyse, in a tone of reproach. + </p> + <p> + “You are right,” answered Mother Bunch, mildly; “there + is a bad feeling in such a doubt—but if you knew—” + </p> + <p> + “What, sister?” + </p> + <p> + The other hesitated for an instant, and then said, dejectedly, “Nothing.” + Afterwards, she added, “Fortunately, I die convinced that he will + never miss me. He married a charming girl, who loves him, I am sure, and + will make him perfectly happy.” + </p> + <p> + As she pronounced these last words, the speaker’s voice grew fainter + and fainter. Suddenly she started and said to Cephyse, in a trembling, + almost frightened tone, “Sister! Hold me in your arms—I am + afraid—everything looks dark—everything is turning round.” + And the unfortunate girl, raising herself a little, hid her face in her + sister’s bosom, and threw his weak arms around her. + </p> + <p> + “Courage, sister!” said Cephyse, in a voice which was also + growing faint, as she pressed her closer to her bosom; “it will soon + be over.” + </p> + <p> + And Cephyse added, with a kind of envy, “Oh! why does my sister’s + strength fail so much sooner than mine? I have still my perfect senses and + I suffer less than she does. Oh! if I thought she would die first!—But, + no—I will go and hold my face over the chafing-dish rather.” + </p> + <p> + At the movement Cephyse made to rise, a feeble pressure from her sister + held her back. “You suffer, my poor child!” said Cephyse, + trembling. + </p> + <p> + “Oh yes! a good deal now—do not leave me!” + </p> + <p> + “And I scarcely at all,” said Cephyse, gazing wildly at the + chafing-dish. “Ah!” added she, with a kind of fatal! joy; + “now I begin to feel it—I choke—my head is ready to + split.” + </p> + <p> + And indeed the destructive gas now filled the little chamber, from which + it had, by degrees, driven all the air fit for respiration. The day was + closing in, and the gloomy garret was only lighted by the reflection of + the burning charcoal, which threw a red glare on the sisters, locked in + each other’s arms. Suddenly Mother Bunch made some slight convulsive + movements, and pronounced these words in a failing voice: “Agricola—Mademoiselle + de Cardoville—Oh! farewell!—Agricola—I—” + </p> + <p> + Then she murmured some unintelligible words; the convulsive moments + ceased, and her arms, which had been clasped round Cephyse, fell inert + upon the mattress. + </p> + <p> + “Sister!” cried Cephyse, in alarm, as she raised Mother Bunch’s + head, to look at her face. “Not already, sister!—And I?—and + I?” + </p> + <p> + The sewing-girl’s mild countenance was not paler than usual. Only + her eyes, half-closed, seemed no longer to see anything, and a half-smile + of mingled grief and goodness lingered an instant about her violet lips, + from which stole the almost imperceptible breath—and then the mouth + became motionless, and the face assumed a great serenity of expression. + </p> + <p> + “But you must not die before me!” cried Cephyse, in a + heart-rending tone, as she covered with kisses the cold cheek. “Wait + for me, sister! wait for me!” + </p> + <p> + Mother Bunch did not answer. The head, which Cephyse let slip from her + hands, fell back gently on the mattress. + </p> + <p> + “My God. It is not my fault, if we do not die together!” cried + Cephyse in despair, as she knelt beside the couch, on which the other lay + motionless. + </p> + <p> + “Dead!” she murmured in terror. “Dead before me!—Perhaps + it is that I am the strongest. Ah! it begins—fortunately—like + her, I see everything dark-blue—I suffer—what happiness!—I + can scarcely breathe. Sister!” she added, as she threw her arms + round her loved one’s neck; “I am coming—I am here!” + </p> + <p> + At the same instant the sound of footsteps and voices was heard from the + staircase. Cephyse had still presence of mind enough to distinguish the + sound. Stretched beside the body of her sister, she raised her head + hastily. + </p> + <p> + The noise approached, and a voice was heard exclaiming, not far from the + doer: “Good heavens! what a smell of fire!” + </p> + <p> + And, at the same instant, the door was violently shaken, and another voice + exclaimed: “Open! open!” + </p> + <p> + “They will come in—they will save me—and my sister is + dead—Oh, no! I will not have the baseness to survive her!” + </p> + <p> + Such was the last thought of Cephyse. Using what little strength she had + left, she ran to the window and opened it—and, at the same instant + that the half-broken door yielded to a vigorous effort from without, the + unfortunate creature precipitated herself from that third story into the + court below. Just then, Adrienne and Agricola appeared on the threshold of + the chamber. In spite of the stifling odor of the charcoal, Mdlle. de + Cardoville rushed into the garret, and, seeing the stove, she exclaimed, + “The unhappy girl has killed herself!” + </p> + <p> + “No, she has thrown herself from the window,” cried Agricola: + for, at the moment of breaking open the door, he had seen a human form + disappear in that direction, and he now ran to the window. + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:65%;"> + <img src="images/30165m.jpg" alt="30165m” width=" /><br /> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/30165.jpg"><i>Original</i></a> + </h5> + <p> + “Oh! this is frightful!” he exclaimed, with a cry of horror, + as he put his hand before his eyes, and returned pale and terrified to + Mdlle. de Cardoville. + </p> + <p> + But, misunderstanding the cause of his terror, Adrienne, who had just + perceived Mother Bunch through the darkness, hastened to answer: “No! + she is here.” + </p> + <p> + And she pointed to the pale form stretched on the mattress, beside which + Adrienne now threw herself on her knees. Grasping the hands of the poor + sempstress, she found them as cold as ice. Laying her hand on her heart, + she could not feel it beat. Yet, in a few seconds, as the fresh air rushed + into the room from the door and window, Adrienne thought she remarked an + almost imperceptible pulsation, and she exclaimed: “Her heart beats! + Run quickly for help! Luckily, I have my smelling bottle.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes! help for her—and for the other too, if it is yet + time!” cried the smith in despair, as he rushed down the stairs, + leaving Mdlle. de Cardoville still kneeling by the side of the mattress. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0156" id="link2H_4_0156"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + BOOK X. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + XXXIII. Confessions XXXIV. More Confessions XXXV. The Rivals + XXXVI. The Interview XXXVII. Soothing Words XXXVIII. The Two + Carriages XXXIX. The Appointment XL. Anxiety XLI. Adrienne + and Djalma XLII. “The Imitation” XLIII. Prayer XLIV. + Remembrances XLV. The Blockhead XLVI. The Anonymous Letters + XLVII. The Golden City XLVIII. The Stung Lion XLIX. The Test +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0138" id="link2HCH0138"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXXIII. CONFESSIONS. + </h2> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">D</span>uring the painful + scene that we have just described, a lively emotion glowed in the + countenance of Mdlle. de Cardoville, grown pale and thin with sorrow. Her + cheeks, once so full, were now slightly hollowed, whilst a faint line of + transparent azure encircled those large black eyes, no longer so bright as + formerly. But the charming lips, though contracted by painful anxiety, had + retained their rich and velvet moisture. To attend more easily to Mother + Bunch, Adrienne had thrown aside her bonnet, and the silky waves of her + beautiful golden hair almost concealed her face as she bent over the + mattress, rubbing the thin, ivory hands of the poor sempstress, completely + called to life by the salubrious freshness of the air, and by the strong + action of the salts which Adrienne carried in her smelling-bottle. + Luckily, Mother Bunch had fainted, rather from emotion and weakness than + from the effects of suffocation, the senses of the unfortunate girl having + failed her before the deleterious gas had attained its highest degree of + intensity. + </p> + <p> + Before continuing the recital of the scene between the sempstress and the + patrician, a few retrospective words will be necessary. Since the strange + adventure at the theatre of the Porte-Saint-Martin, where Djalma, at peril + of his life, rushed upon the black panther in sight of Mdlle. de + Cardoville, the young lady had been deeply affected in various ways. + Forgetting her jealousy, and the humiliation she had suffered in presence + of Djalma—of Djalma exhibiting himself before every one with a woman + so little worthy of him—Adrienne was for a moment dazzled by the + chivalrous and heroic action of the prince, and said to herself: “In + spite of odious appearances, Djalma loves me enough to brave death in + order to pick up my nosegay.” + </p> + <p> + But with a soul so delicate as that of this young lady, a character so + generous, and a mind so true, reflection was certain soon to demonstrate + the vanity of such consolations, powerless to cure the cruel wounds of + offended dignity an love. + </p> + <p> + “How many times,” said Adrienne to herself, and with reason, + “has the prince encountered, in hunting, from pure caprice and with + no gain, such danger as he braved in picking up my bouquet! and then, who + tells me he did not mean to offer it to the woman who accompanied him?” + </p> + <p> + Singular (it may be) in the eyes of the world, but just and great in those + of heaven, the ideas which Adrienne cherished with regard to love, joined + to her natural pride, presented an invincible obstacle to the thought of + her succeeding this woman (whoever she might be), thus publicly displayed + by the prince as his mistress. And yet Adrienne hardly dared avow to + herself, that she experienced a feeling of jealousy, only the more painful + and humiliating, the less her rival appeared worthy to be compared to her. + </p> + <p> + At other times, on the contrary, in spite of a conscious sense of her own + value, Mdlle. de Cardoville, remembering the charming countenance of + Rose-Pompon, asked herself if the bad taste and improper manners of this + pretty creature resulted from precocious and depraved effrontery, or from + a complete ignorance of the usages of society. In the latter case, such + ignorance, arising from a simple and ingenuous nature, might in itself + have a great charm; and if to this attraction, combined with that of + incontestable beauty, were added sincere love and a pure soul, the obscure + birth, or neglected education of the girl might be of little consequence, + and she might be capable of inspiring Djalma with a profound passion. If + Adrienne hesitated to see a lost creature in Rose-Pompon, notwithstanding + unfavorable appearances, it was because, remembering what so many + travellers had related of Djalma’s greatness of soul, and recalling + the conversation she had overheard between him and Rodin, she could not + bring herself to believe that a man of such remarkable intelligence, with + so tender a heart, so poetical, imaginative and enthusiastic a mind could + be capable of loving a depraved and vulgar creature, and of openly + exhibiting himself in public along with her. There was a mystery in the + transaction, which Adrienne sought in vain to penetrate. These trying + doubts, this cruel curiosity, only served to nourish Adrienne’s + fatal love; and we may imagine her incurable despair, when she found that + the indifference, or even disdain of Djalma, was unable to stifle a + passion that now burned more fiercely than ever. Sometimes, having + recourse to notions of fatality, she fancied that she was destined to feel + this love; that Djalma must therefore deserve it, and that one day + whatever was incomprehensible in the conduct of the prince would be + explained to his advantage. At other times, on the contrary, she felt + ashamed of excusing Djalma, and the consciousness of this weakness was for + Adrienne a constant occasion for remorse and torture. The victim of all + these agonies, she lived in perfect solitude. + </p> + <p> + The cholera soon broke out, startling as a clap of thunder. Too unhappy to + fear the pestilence on her own account, Adrienne was only moved by the + sorrows of others. She was amongst the first to contribute to those + charitable donations, which were now flowing in from all sides in the + admirable spirit of benevolence. Florine was suddenly attacked by the + epidemic. In spite of the danger, her mistress insisted on seeing her, and + endeavored to revive her failing courage. Conquered by this new mark of + kindness, Florine could no longer conceal the treachery in which she had + borne a part. Death was about to deliver her from the odious tyranny of + the people whose yoke weighed upon her, and she was at length in a + position to reveal everything to Adrienne. The latter thus learned how she + had been continually betrayed by Florine, and also the cause of the + sewing-girl’s abrupt departure. At these revelations, Adrienne felt + her affection and tender pity for the poor sempstress greatly increase. By + her command, the most active steps were taken to discover traces of the + hunchback; but Florine’s confession had a still more important + result. Justly alarmed at this new evidence of Rodin’s machinations, + Adrienne remembered the projects formed, when, believing herself beloved, + the instinct of affection had revealed to her the perils to which Djalma + and other members of the Rennepont family were exposed. To assemble the + race around her, and bid them rally against the common enemy, such was + Adrienne’s first thought, when she heard the confession of Florine. + She regarded it as a duty to accomplish this project. In a struggle with + such dangerous and powerful adversaries as Rodin, Father d’Aigrigny, + and the Princess de Saint-Dizier, and their allies, Adrienne saw not only + the praiseworthy and perilous task of unmasking hypocrisy and cupidity, + but also, if not a consolation, at least a generous diversion in the midst + of terrible sorrows. + </p> + <p> + From this moment, a restless, feverish activity took the place of the + mournful apathy in which the young lady had languished. She called round + her all the members of her family capable of answering the appeal, and, as + had been mentioned in the secret note delivered to Father d’Aigrigny, + Cardoville House soon became the centre of the most active and unceasing + operations, and also a place of meeting, in which the modes of attack and + defence were fully discussed. Perfectly correct in all points, the secret + note of which we have spoken stated, as a mere conjecture, that Mdlle. de + Cardoville had granted an interview to Djalma. This fact was untrue, but + the cause which led to the supposition will be explained hereafter. Far + from such being the case, Mdlle. de Cardoville scarcely found, in + attending to the great family interests now at stake, a momentary + diversion from the fatal love, which was slowly undermining her health, + and with which she so bitterly reproached herself. + </p> + <p> + The morning of the day on which Adrienne, at length discovering Mother + Bunch’s residence, came so miraculously to rescue her from death, + Agricola Baudoin had been to Cardoville House to confer on the subject of + Francis Hardy, and had begged Adrienne to permit him to accompany her to + the Rue Clovis, whither they repaired in haste. + </p> + <p> + Thus, once again, there was a noble spectacle, a touching symbol! Mdlle. + de Cardoville and Mother Bunch, the two extremities of the social chain, + were united on equal terms—for the sempstress and the fair patrician + were equal in intelligence and heart—and equal also, because the one + was the ideal of riches, grace, and beauty, and the other the ideal of + resignation and unmerited misfortune—and does not a halo rest on + misfortune borne with courage and dignity? Stretched on her mattress, the + hunchback appeared so weak, that even if Agricola had not been detained on + the ground floor with Cephyse, now dying a dreadful death, Mdlle. de + Cardoville would have waited some time, before inducing Mother Bunch to + rise and accompany her to her carriage. Thanks to the presence of mind and + pious fraud of Adrienne, the sewing-girl was persuaded that Cephyse had + been carried to a neighboring hospital, to receive the necessary succors, + which promised to be crowned with success. The hunchback’s faculties + recovering slowly from their stupor, she at first received this fable + without the least suspicion—for she did not even know that Agricola + had accompanied Mdlle. de Cardoville. + </p> + <p> + “And it is to you, lady, that Cephyse and I owe our lives,” + said she, turning her mild and melancholy face towards Adrienne, “you, + kneeling in this garret, near this couch of misery, where I and my sister + meant to die—for you assure me, lady, that Cephyse was succored in + time.” + </p> + <p> + “Be satisfied! I was told just now that she was recovering her + senses.” + </p> + <p> + “And they told her I was living, did they not, lady? Otherwise, she + would perhaps regret having survived me.” + </p> + <p> + “Be quite easy, my dear girl!” said Adrienne, pressing the + poor hands in her own, and gazing on her with eyes full of tears; “they + have told her all that was proper. Do not trouble yourself about anything; + only think of recovering—and I hope you will yet enjoy that + happiness of which you have known so little, my poor child.” + </p> + <p> + “How kind you are, lady! After flying from your house—and when + you must think me so ungrateful!” + </p> + <p> + “Presently, when you are not so weak, I have a great deal to tell + you. Just now, it would fatigue you too much. But how do you feel?” + </p> + <p> + “Better, lady. This fresh air—and then the thought, that, + since you are come—my poor sister will no more be reduced to + despair; for I will tell you all, and I am sure you will have pity on + Cephyse—will you not, lady?” + </p> + <p> + “Rely upon me, my child,” answered Adrienne, forced to + dissemble her painful embarrassment; “you know I am interested in + all that interests you. But tell me,” added Mdlle. de Cardoville, in + a voice of emotion, “before taking this desperate resolution, did + you not write to me?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, lady.” + </p> + <p> + “Alas!” resumed Adrienne, sorrowfully; “and when you + received no answer—how cruel, how ungrateful you must have thought + me!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! never, lady, did I accuse you of such feelings; my poor sister + will tell you so. You had my gratitude to the last.” + </p> + <p> + “I believe you—for I knew your heart. But how then did you + explain my silence?” + </p> + <p> + “I had justly offended you by my sudden departure, lady.” + </p> + <p> + “Offended!—Alas! I never received your letter.” + </p> + <p> + “And yet you know that I wrote to you, lady.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, my poor girl; I know, also, that you wrote to me at my porter’s + lodge. Unfortunately, he delivered your letter to one of my women, named + Florine, telling her it came from you.” + </p> + <p> + “Florine! the young woman that was so kind to me!” + </p> + <p> + “Florine deceived me shamefully; she was sold to my enemies, and + acted as a spy on my actions.” + </p> + <p> + “She!—Good Heavens!” cried Mother Bunch. “Is it + possible?” + </p> + <p> + “She herself,” answered Adrienne, bitterly; “but, after + all, we must pity as well as blame her. She was forced to obey by a + terrible necessity, and her confession and repentance secured my pardon + before her death.” + </p> + <p> + “Then she is dead—so young! so fair!” + </p> + <p> + “In spite of her faults, I was greatly moved by her end. She + confessed what she had done, with such heart-rending regrets. Amongst her + avowals, she told me she had intercepted a letter, in which you asked for + an interview that might save your sister’s life.” + </p> + <p> + “It is true, lady; such were the terms of my letter. What interest + had they to keep it from you?” + </p> + <p> + “They feared to see you return to me, my good guardian angel. You + loved me so tenderly, and my enemies dreaded your faithful affection, so + wonderfully aided by the admirable instinct of your heart. Ah! I shall + never forget how well-deserved was the horror with which you were inspired + by a wretch whom I defended against your suspicions.” + </p> + <p> + “M. Rodin?” said Mother Bunch, with a shudder. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” replied Adrienne; “but we will not talk of these + people now. Their odious remembrance would spoil the joy I feel in seeing + you restored to life—for your voice is less feeble, your cheeks are + beginning to regain a little color. Thank God! I am so happy to have found + you once more;—if you knew all that I hope, all that I expect from + our reunion—for we will not part again—promise me that, in the + name of our friendship.” + </p> + <p> + “I—your friend!” said Mother Bunch, timidly casting down + her eyes. + </p> + <p> + “A few days before your departure from my house, did I not call you + my friend, my sister? What is there changed? Nothing, nothing,” + added Mdlle. de Cardoville, with deep emotion. “One might say, on + the contrary, that a fatal resemblance in our positions renders your + friendship even dearer to me. And I shall have it, shall I not. Oh, do not + refuse it me—I am so much in want of a friend!” + </p> + <p> + “You, lady? you in want of the friendship of a poor creature like + me?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” answered Adrienne, as she gazed on the other with an + expression of intense grief; “nay, more, you are perhaps the only + person, to whom I could venture to confide my bitter sorrows.” So + saying, Mdlle. de Cardoville colored deeply. + </p> + <p> + “And how do I deserve such marks of confidence?” asked Mother + Bunch, more and more surprised. + </p> + <p> + “You deserve it by the delicacy of your heart, by the steadiness of + your character,” answered Adrienne, with some hesitation; “then—you + are a woman—and I am certain you will understand what I suffer, and + pity me.” + </p> + <p> + “Pity you, lady?” said the other, whose astonishment continued + to increase. “You, a great lady, and so much envied—I, so + humble and despised, pity you?” + </p> + <p> + “Tell me, my poor friend,” resumed Adrienne, after some + moments of silence, “are not the worst griefs those which we dare + not avow to any one, for fear of raillery and contempt? How can we venture + to ask interest or pity, for sufferings that we hardly dare avow to + ourselves, because they make us blush?” + </p> + <p> + The sewing-girl could hardly believe what she heard. Had her benefactress + felt, like her, the effects of an unfortunate passion, she could not have + held any other language. But the sempstress could not admit such a + supposition; so, attributing to some other cause the sorrows of Adrienne, + she answered mournfully, whilst she thought of her own fatal love for + Agricola, “Oh! yes, lady. A secret grief, of which we are ashamed, + must be frightful—very frightful!” + </p> + <p> + “But then what happiness to meet, not only a heart noble enough to + inspire complete confidence, but one which has itself been tried by a + thousand sorrows, and is capable of affording you pity, support and + counsel!—Tell me, my dear child,” added Mdlle. de Cardoville, + as she looked attentively at Mother Bunch, “if you were weighed down + by one of those sorrows, at which one blushes, would you not be happy, + very happy, to find a kindred soul, to whom you might entrust your griefs, + and half relieve them by entire and merited confidence?” + </p> + <p> + For the first time in her life, Mother Bunch regarded Mdlle. de Cardoville + with a feeling of suspicion and sadness. + </p> + <p> + The last words of the young lady seemed to her full of meaning “Doubtless, + she knows my secret,” said Mother Bunch to herself; “doubtless, + my journal has fallen into her hands.—She knows my love for + Agricola, or at least suspects it. What she has been saying to me is + intended to provoke my confidence, and to assure herself if she has been + rightly informed.” + </p> + <p> + These thoughts excited in the workgirl’s mind no bitter or + ungrateful feeling towards her benefactress; but the heart of the + unfortunate girl was so delicately susceptible on the subject of her fatal + passion, that, in spite of her deep and tender affection for Mdlle. de + Cardoville, she suffered cruelly at the thought of Adrienne’s being + mistress of her secret. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0139" id="link2HCH0139"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXXIV. MORE CONFESSIONS. + </h2> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>he fancy, at first + so painful, that Mdlle. de Cardoville was informed of her love for + Agricola was soon exchanged in the hunchbacks heart, thanks to the + generous instincts of that rare and excellent creature, for a touching + regret, which showed all her attachment and veneration for Adrienne. + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps,” said Mother Bunch to herself, “conquered by + the influence of the adorable kindness of my protectress, I might have + made to her a confession which I could make to none other, and revealed a + secret which I thought to carry with me to my grave. It would, at least, + have been a mark of gratitude to Mdlle. de Cardoville; but, unfortunately, + I am now deprived of the sad comfort of confiding my only secret to my + benefactress. And then—however generous may be her pity for me, + however intelligent her affection, she cannot—she, that is so fair + and so much admired—she cannot understand how frightful is the + position of a creature like myself, hiding in the depth of a wounded + heart, a love at once hopeless and ridiculous. No, no—in spite of + the delicacy of her attachment, my benefactress must unconsciously hurt my + feelings, even whilst she pities me—for only sympathetic sorrows can + console each other. Alas! why did she not leave me to die?” + </p> + <p> + These reflections presented themselves to the thinker’s mind as + rapidly as thought could travel. Adrienne observed her attentively; she + remarked that the sewing-girl’s countenance, which had lately + brightened up, was again clouded, and expressed a feeling of painful + humiliation. Terrified at this relapse into gloomy dejection, the + consequences of which might be serious, for Mother Bunch was still very + weak, and, as it were, hovering on the brink of the grave, Mdlle. de + Cardoville resumed hastily: “My friend, do not you think with me, + that the most cruel and humiliating grief admits of consolation, when it + can be entrusted to a faithful and devoted heart?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, lady,” said the young sempstress, bitterly; “but + the heart which suffers in silence, should be the only judge of the moment + for making so painful a confession. Until then, it would perhaps be more + humane to respect its fatal secret, even if one had by chance discovered + it.” + </p> + <p> + “You are right, my child,” said Adrienne, sorrowfully, “if + I choose this solemn moment to entrust you with a very painful secret, it + is that, when you have heard me, I am sure you will set more value on your + life, as knowing how much I need your tenderness, consolation, and pity.” + </p> + <p> + At these words, the other half raised herself on the mattress, and looked + at Mdlle. de Cardoville in amazement. She could scarcely believe what she + heard; far from designing to intrude upon her confidence, it was her + protectress who was to make the painful confession, and who came to + implore pity and consolation from her! + </p> + <p> + “What!” stammered she; “you, lady!” + </p> + <p> + “I come to tell you that I suffer, and am ashamed of my sufferings. + Yes,” added the young lady, with a touching expression, “yes—of + all confessions, I am about to make the most painful—I love—and + I blush for my love.” + </p> + <p> + “Like myself!” cried Mother Bunch, involuntarily, clasping her + hands together. + </p> + <p> + “I love,” resumed Adrienne, with a long-pent-up grief; “I + love, and am not beloved—and my love is miserable, is impossible—it + consumes me—it kills me—and I dare not confide to any one the + fatal secret!” + </p> + <p> + “Like me,” repeated the other, with a fixed look. “She—a + queen in beauty, rank, wealth, intelligence—suffers like me. Like + me, poor unfortunate creature! she loves, and is not loved again.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, yes! like you, I love and am not loved again,” cried + Mdlle. de Cardoville; “was I wrong in saying, that to you alone I + could confide my secret—because, having suffered the same pangs, you + alone can pity them?” + </p> + <p> + “Then, lady,” said Mother Bunch, casting down her eyes, and + recovering from her first amazement, “you knew—” + </p> + <p> + “I knew all, my poor child—but never should I have mentioned + your secret, had I not had one to entrust you with, of a still more + painful nature. Yours is cruel, but mine is humiliating. Oh, my sister!” + added Mdlle. de Cardoville, in a tone impossible to describe, “misfortune, + you, see, blends and confounds together what are called distinctions of + rank and fortune—and often those whom the world envies are reduced + by suffering far below the poorest and most humble, and have to seek from + the latter pity and consolation.” + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:65%;"> + <img src="images/30175m.jpg" alt="30175m” width=" /><br /> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/30175.jpg"><i>Original</i></a> + </h5> + <p> + Then, drying her tears, which nosy flowed abundantly, Mdlle. de Cardoville + resumed, in a voice of emotion: “Come, sister! courage, courage! let + us love and sustain each other. Let this sad and mysterious bond unite us + forever.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, lady! forgive me. But now that you know the secret of my life,” + said the workgirl, casting down her eyes, and unable to vanquish her + confusion, “it seems to me, that I can never look at you without + blushing.” + </p> + <p> + “And why? because you love Agricola?” said Adrienne. “Then + I must die of shame before you, since, less courageous than you, I had not + the strength to suffer and be resigned, and so conceal my love in the + depths of my heart. He that I love, with a love henceforth deprived of + hope, knew of that love and despised it—preferring to me a woman, + the very choice of whom was a new and grievous insult, if I am not much + deceived by appearances. I sometimes hope that I am deceived on this + point. Now tell me—is it for you to blush?” + </p> + <p> + “Alas, lady! who could tell you all this?” + </p> + <p> + “Which you only entrusted to your journal? Well, then—it was + the dying Florine who confessed her misdeeds. She had been base enough to + steal your papers, forced to this odious act, by the people who had + dominion over her. But she had read your journal—and as every good + feeling was not dead within her, your admirable resignation, your + melancholy and pious love, had left such an impression on her mind, that + she was able to repeat whole passages to me on her death bed, and thus to + explain the cause of your sudden disappearance—for she had no doubt + that the fear of seeing your love for Agricola divulged had been the cause + of your flight.” + </p> + <p> + “Alas! it is but too true, lady.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes!” answered Adrienne, bitterly; “those who + employed the wretched girl to act as she did, well knew the effect of the + blow. It was not their first attempt. They reduced you to despair, they + would have killed you, because you were devoted to me, and because you had + guessed their intentions. Oh! these black-gowns are implacable, and their + power is great!” said Adrienne, shuddering. + </p> + <p> + “It is fearful, lady.” + </p> + <p> + “But do not be alarmed, dear child; you see, that the arms of the + wicked have turned against themselves; for the moment I knew the cause of + your flight, you became dearer to me than ever. From that time I made + every exertion to find out where you were; after long efforts, it was only + this morning that the person I had employed succeeded in discovering that + you inhabited this house. Agricola was with me when I heard it, and + instantly asked to accompany me.” + </p> + <p> + “Agricola!” said Mother Bunch, clasping her hands; “he + came—” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, my child—be calm. Whilst I attended to you, he was busy + with your poor sister. You will soon see him.” + </p> + <p> + “Alas, lady!” resumed the hunchback, in alarm. “He + doubtless knows—” + </p> + <p> + “Your love! No, no; be satisfied. Only think of the happiness of + again seeing your good and worthy brother.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, lady! may he never know what caused me so much shame, that I + was like to die of it. Thank God, he is not aware of it!” + </p> + <p> + “Then let us have no more sad thoughts, my child. Only remember, + that this worthy brother came here in time to save us from everlasting + regrets—and you from a great fault. Oh! I do not speak of the + prejudices of the world, with regard to the right of every creature to + return to heaven a life that has become too burdensome!—I only say + that you ought not to have died, because those who love you, and whom you + love, were still in need of your assistance.” + </p> + <p> + “I thought you happy; Agricola was married to the girl of his + choice, who will, I am sure, make him happy. To whom could I be useful?” + </p> + <p> + “First, to myself, as you see—and then, who tells you that + Agricola will never have need of you? Who tells you, that his happiness, + or that of his family, will last forever, and will not be tried by cruel + shocks? And even if those you love had been destined to be always happy, + could their happiness be complete without you? And would not your death, + with which they would perhaps have reproached themselves, have left behind + it endless regrets?” + </p> + <p> + “It is true, lady,” answered the other, “I was wrong—the + dizziness of despair had seized me—frightful misery weighed upon us—we + had not been able to find work for some days—we lived on the charity + of a poor woman, and her the cholera carried off. To-morrow or next day, + we must have died of hunger.” + </p> + <p> + “Die of hunger!—and you knew where I lived!” + </p> + <p> + “I had written to you, lady, and receiving no answer, I thought you + offended at my abrupt departure.” + </p> + <p> + “Poor, dear child! you must have been, as you say, seized with + dizziness in that terrible moment; so that I have not the courage to + reproach you for doubting me a single instant. How can I blame you? Did I + not myself think of terminating my life?” + </p> + <p> + “You, lady!” cried the hunchback. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I thought of it—when they came to tell me, that Florine, + dying, wished to speak to me. I heard what she had to say; her revelations + changed my projects. This dark and mournful life which had become + insupportable to me, was suddenly lighted up. The sense of duty woke + within me. You were no doubt a prey to horrible misery; it was my duty to + seek and save you. Florine’s confessions unveiled to me the new + plots of the enemies of my scattered family, dispersed by sorrows and + cruel losses; it was my duty to warn them of their danger, and to unite + them against the common enemy. I had been the victim of odious manoeuvres: + it was my duty to punish their authors, for fear that, encouraged by + impunity, these black-gowns should make other victims. Then the sense of + duty gave me strength, and I was able to rouse myself from my lethargy. + With the help of Abbe Gabriel, a sublime, oh! a sublime priest—the + ideal of a true Christian—the worthy brother of Agricola—I + courageously entered on the struggle. What shall I say to you, my child? + The performance of these duties, the hope of finding you again, have been + some relief to me in my trouble. If I was not consoled, I was at least + occupied. Your tender friendship, the example of your resignation, will do + the rest—I think so—I am sure so—and I shall forget this + fatal love.” + </p> + <p> + At the moment Adrienne pronounced these words, rapid footsteps were heard + upon the stairs, and a young, clear voice exclaimed: “Oh! dear me, + poor Mother Bunch! How lucky I have come just now! If only I could be of + some use to her!” + </p> + <p> + Almost immediately, Rose-Pompon entered the garret with precipitation. + Agricola soon followed the grisette, and pointing to the open window, + tried to make Adrienne understand by signs, that she was not to mention to + the girl the deplorable end of the Bacchanal Queen. This pantomime was + lost on Mdlle. de Cardoville. Adrienne’s heart swelled with grief, + indignation, pride, as she recognized the girl she had seen at the Porte + Saint-Martin in company with Djalma, and who alone was the cause of the + dreadful sufferings she endured since that fatal evening. And, strange + irony of fate! it was at the very moment when Adrienne had just made the + humiliating and cruel confession of her despised love, that the woman, to + whom she believed herself sacrificed, appeared before her. + </p> + <p> + If the surprise of Mdlle. de Cardoville was great, Rose-Pompon’s was + not less so. Not only did she recognize in Adrienne the fair young lady + with the golden locks, who had sat opposite to her at the theatre, on the + night of the adventure of the black panther, but she had serious reasons + for desiring most ardently this unexpected interview. It is impossible to + paint the look of malignant joy and triumph, that she affected to cast + upon Adrienne. The first impulse of Mdlle. de Cardoville was to quit the + room. But she could not bear to leave Mother Bunch at this moment, or to + give, in the presence of Agricola, her reasons for such an abrupt + departure, and moreover, an inexplicable and fatal curiosity held her + back, in spite of her offended pride. She remained, therefore, and was + about to examine closely, to hear and to judge, this rival, who had nearly + occasioned her death, to whom, in her jealous agony, she had ascribed so + many different aspects, in order to explain Djalma’s love for such a + creature. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0140" id="link2HCH0140"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXXV. THE RIVALS. + </h2> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">R</span>ose-Pompon, whose + presence caused such deep emotion in Mdlle. de Cardoville, was dressed in + the most showy and extravagant bad taste. Her very small, narrow, + rose-colored satin bonnet, placed so forward over her face as almost to + touch the tip of her little nose, left uncovered behind half of her light, + silky hair; her plaid dress, of an excessively broad pattern, was open in + front, and the almost transparent gauze, rather too honest in its + revelations, hardly covered the charms of the form beneath. + </p> + <p> + The grisette having run all the way upstairs, held in her hands the ends + of her large blue shawl, which, falling from her shoulders, had slid down + to her wasp-like waist, and there been stopped by the swell of the figure. + If we enter into these details, it is to explain how, at the sight of this + pretty creature, dressed in so impertinent and almost indecent, a fashion, + Mdlle. de Cardoville, who thought she saw in her a successful rival, felt + her indignation, grief, and shame redoubled. + </p> + <p> + But judge of the surprise and confusion of Adrienne, when Mdlle. Rose + Pompon said to her, with the utmost freedom and pertness, “I am + delighted to see you, madame. You and I must have a long talk together. + Only I must begin by kissing poor Mother Bunch—with your permission, + madame!” + </p> + <p> + To understand the tone and manner with which this word, “madame” + was pronounced, you must have been present at some stormy discussion + between two Rose-Pompons, jealous of each other; then you would be able to + judge how much provoking hostility may be compressed into the word “madame,” + under certain circumstances. Amazed at the impudence of Rose-Pompon, + Mdlle. de Cardoville remained mute; whilst Agricola, entirely occupied + with the interest he took in the workgirl, who had never withdrawn her + eyes from him since he entered the room, and with the remembrance of the + painful scene he had just quitted, whispered to Adrienne, without + remarking the grisette’s effrontery, “Alas, lady! it is all + over. Cephyse has just breathed her last sigh, without recovering her + senses.” + </p> + <p> + “Unfortunate girl!” said Adrienne, with emotion; and for the + moment she forgot Rose-Pompon. + </p> + <p> + “We must keep this sad news from Mother Bunch, and only let her know + it hereafter, with great caution,” resumed Agricola. “Luckily, + little Rose Pompon knows nothing about it.” + </p> + <p> + And he pointed to the grisette, who was now stooping down by the side of + the workgirl. On hearing Agricola speak so familiarly of Rose-Pompon, + Adrienne’s amazement increased. It is impossible to describe what + she felt; yet, strangely enough, her sufferings grew less and less, and + her anxiety diminished, as she listened to the chatter of the grisette. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, my good dear!” said the latter, with as much volubility + as emotion, while her pretty blue eyes were filled with tears; “is + it possible that you did so stupid a thing? Do not poor people help one + another? Could you not apply to me? You knew that others are welcome to + whatever is mine, and I would have made a raffle of Philemon’s + bazaar,” added this singular girl, with a burst of feeling, at once + sincere, touching, and grotesque; “I would have sold his three + boots, pipes, boating-costume, bed, and even his great drinking-glass, and + at all events you should not have been brought to such an ugly pass. + Philemon would not have minded, for he is a good fellow; and if he had + minded, it would have been all the same. Thank heaven! we are not married. + I am only wishing to remind you that you should have thought of little + Rose-Pompon.” + </p> + <p> + “I know you are obliging and kind, miss,” said Mother Bunch: + for she had heard from her sister that Rose-Pompon, like so many of her + class, had a warm and generous heart. + </p> + <p> + “After all,” resumed the grisette, wiping with the back of her + hand the tip of her little nose, down which a tear was trickling, “you + may tell me that you did not know where I had taken up my quarters. It’s + a queer story, I can tell you. When I say queer,” added Rose-Pompon, + with a deep sigh, “it is quite the contrary—but no matter: I + need not trouble you with that. One thing is certain; you are getting + better—and you and Cephyse will not do such a thing again. She is + said to be very weak. Can I not see her yet, M. Agricola? + </p> + <p> + “No,” said the smith, with embarrassment, for Mother Bunch + kept her eyes fixed upon him; “you must have patience.” + </p> + <p> + “But I may see her to-day, Agricola?” exclaimed the hunchback. + </p> + <p> + “We will talk about that. Only be calm, I entreat.” + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:65%;"> + <img src="images/30181m.jpg" alt="30181m” width=" /><br /> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/30181.jpg"><i>Original</i></a> + </h5> + <p> + “Agricola is right; you must be reasonable, my good dear,” + resumed Rose Pompon; “we will wait patiently. I can wait too, for I + have to talk presently to this lady;” and Rose-Pompon glanced at + Adrienne with the expression of an angry cat. “Yes, yes; I can wait; + for I long to tell Cephyse also that she may reckon upon me.” Here + Rose-Pompon bridled up very prettily, and thus continued, “Do not be + uneasy! It is the least one can do, when one is in a good position, to + share the advantages with one’s friends, who are not so well off. It + would be a fine thing to keep one’s happiness to one’s self! + to stuff it with straw, and put it under a glass, and let no one touch it! + When I talk of happiness, it’s only to make talk; it is true in one + sense; but to another, you see, my good dear—Bah! I am only + seventeen—but no matter—I might go on talking till tomorrow, + and you would not be any the wiser. So let me kiss you once more, and don’t + be down-hearted—nor Cephyse either, do you hear? for I shall be + close at hand.” + </p> + <p> + And, stooping still lower, Rose-Pompon cordially embraced Mother Bunch. It + is impossible to express what Mdlle. de Cardoville felt during this + conversation, or rather during this monologue of the grisette on the + subject of the attempted suicide. The eccentric jargon of Mdlle. Rose + Pompon, her liberal facility in disposing of Philemon’s bazaar, to + the owner of which (as she said) she was luckily not married—the + goodness of her heart, which revealed itself in her offers of service—her + contrasts, her impertinence, her drollery—all this was so new and + inexplicable to Mdlle. de Cardoville, that she remained for some time mute + and motionless with surprise. Such, then, was the creature to whom Djalma + had sacrificed her! + </p> + <p> + If Adrienne’s first impression at sight of Rose-Pompon had been + horribly painful, reflection soon awakened doubts, which were to become + shortly ineffable hopes. Remembering the interview she had overheard + between Rodin and Djalma, when, concealed in the conservatory, she had + wished to prove the Jesuit’s fidelity, Adrienne, asked herself if it + was reasonable, if it was possible to believe, that the prince, whose + ideas of love seemed to be so poetical, so elevated, so pure, could find + any charm in the disjointed and silly chat of this young girl? Adrienne + could not hesitate; she pronounced the thing impossible, from the moment + she had seen her rival near, and witnessed her style both of manners and + conversation, which, without detracting from the prettiness of her + features, gave them a trivial and not very attractive character. Adrienne’s + doubts with regard to the deep love of the prince for Rose Pompon were + hence soon changed to complete incredulity. Endowed with too much sense + and penetration, not to perceive that this apparent connection, so + inconceivable on the part of Djalma, must conceal some mystery, Mdlle. de + Cardoville felt her hopes revive. As this consoling thought arose in her + mind, her heart, until now so painfully oppressed, began once more to + dilate; she felt vague aspirations towards a better future; and yet, + cruelly warned by the past, she feared to yield too readily to a mere + illusion, for she remembered the notorious fact that the prince had really + appeared in public with this girl. But now that Mdlle. de Cardoville could + fully appreciate what she was, she found the conduct of the prince only + the more incomprehensible. And how can we judge soundly and surely of that + which is enveloped in mystery? And then a secret presentiment told her, + that it would, perhaps, be beside the couch of the poor sempstress, whom + she had just saved from death, that, by a providential coincidence, she + would learn the secret on which depended the happiness of her life. + </p> + <p> + The emotions which agitated she heart of Adrienne, became so violent, that + her fine face was flushed with a bright red, her bosom heaved, and her + large, black eyes, lately dimmed by sadness, once more shone with a mild + radiance. She waited with inexpressible impatience for what was to follow. + In the interview, with which Rose-Pompon had threatened her, and which a + few minutes before Adrienne would have declined with all the dignity of + legitimate indignation, she now hoped to find the explanation of a + mystery, which it was of such importance for her to clear up. After once + more tenderly embracing Mother Bunch, Rose-Pompon got up from the ground, + and, turning towards Adrienne, eyed her from head to foot, with the utmost + coolness, and said to her, in a somewhat impertinent tone: “It is + now our turn, madame”—the word “madame” still + pronounced with the accent before described—“we have a little + matter to settle together.” + </p> + <p> + “I am at your order,” answered Adrienne, with much mildness + and simplicity. + </p> + <p> + At sight of the triumphant and decisive air of Rose-Pompon, and on hearing + her challenge to Mdlle. de Cardoville, the worthy Agricola, after + exchanging a few words with Mother Bunch, opened his eyes and ears very + wide, and remained staring in amazement at the effrontery of the grisette; + then, advancing towards her, he whispered, as he plucked her by the + sleeve: “I say, are you mad? Do you know to whom you speak?” + </p> + <p> + “Well! what then? Is not one pretty woman worth another! I say that + for the lady. She will not eat me, I suppose,” replied Rose-Pompon, + aloud, and with an air of defiance. “I have to talk with madame, + here. I am sure, she knows why and wherefore. If not, I will tell her; it + will not take me long.” + </p> + <p> + Adrienne, who feared some ridiculous exposure on the subject of Djalma, in + the presence of Agricola, made a sign to the latter, and thus answered the + grisette: “I am ready to hear you, miss, but not in this place. You + will understand why.” + </p> + <p> + “Very well, madame, I have my key. You can come to any apartments”—the + last word pronounced with an air of ostentatious importance. + </p> + <p> + “Let us go then to your apartments, miss since you to me the honor + to receive me there,” answered Mdlle. de Cardoville, in her mild, + sweet voice, and with a slight inclination of the head, so full of + exquisite politeness, that Rose-Pompon was daunted, notwithstanding all + her effrontery. + </p> + <p> + “What, lady!” said Agricola to Adrienne; “you are good + enough—” + </p> + <p> + “M. Agricola,” said Mdlle. de Cardoville, interrupting him, + “please to remain with our poor friend: I shall soon be back.” + </p> + <p> + Then, approaching Mother Bunch, who shared in Agricola’s + astonishment she said to her: “Excuse me for leaving you a few + seconds. Only regain a little strength, and, when I return, I will take + you home with me, dear sister.” + </p> + <p> + Then, turning towards Rose-Pompon, who was more and more surprised at + hearing so fine a lady call the workgirl her sister, she added: “I + am ready whenever you please, mademoiselle.” + </p> + <p> + “Beg pardon, madame, if I go first to show you the way, but it’s + a regular break-neck sort of a place,” answered Rose-Pompon, + pressing her elbows to her sides, and screwing up her lips to prove that + she was no stranger to polite manners and fine language. And the two + rivals quitted the garret together, leaving Agricola alone with Mother + Bunch. + </p> + <p> + Luckily, the disfigured remains of the Bacchanal Queen had been carried + into Mother Arsene’s subterraneous shop, so that the crowd of + spectators, always attracted by any fatal event, had assembled in front of + the house; and Rose-Pompon, meeting no one in the little court she had to + traverse with Adrienne, continued in ignorance of the tragical death of + her old friend Cephyse. In a few moments the grisette and Mdlle. de + Cardoville had reached Philemon’s apartment. This singular abode + remained in the same state of picturesque disorder in which Rose-Pompon + had left it, when Ninny Moulin came to fetch her to act the heroine of a + mysterious adventure. + </p> + <p> + Adrienne, completely ignorant of the eccentric modes of life of students + and their companions, could not, in spite of the thoughts which occupied + her mind, forebear examining, with a mixture of surprise and curiosity, + this strange and grotesque chaos, composed of the most dissimilar objects—disguises + for masked balls, skulls with pipes in their mouths, odd boots standing on + book shelves, monstrous bottles, women’s clothes, ends of tobacco + pipes, etc., etc. To the first astonishment of Adrienne succeeded an + impression of painful repugnance. The young lady felt herself uneasy and + out of place in this abode, not of poverty, but disorder; whilst, on the + contrary, the sewing-girl’s miserable garret had caused her no such + feeling. + </p> + <p> + Rose-Pompon, notwithstanding all her airs, was considerably troubled when + she found herself alone with Mdlle, de Cardoville; the rare beauty of the + young patrician, her fashionable look, the elegance of her manners, the + style, both dignified and affable, with which she had answered the + impertinent address of the grisette, began to have their effect upon the + latter, who, being moreover a good-natured girl, had been touched at + hearing Mdlle. de Cardoville call the hunchback “friend and sister.” + Without knowing exactly who Adrienne was, Rose-Pompon was not ignorant + that she belonged to the richest and highest class of society; she felt + already some remorse at having attacked her so cavalierly; and her + intentions, at first very hostile with regard to Mdlle. de Cardoville, + were gradually much modified. Yet, being very obstinate, and not wishing + to appear to submit to an influence that offended her pride, Rose-Pompon + endeavored to recover her assurance; and, having bolted the door, she said + to Adrienne: “Pray do me the favor to sit down, madame”—still + with the intention of showing that she was no stranger to refined manners + and conversation. + </p> + <p> + Mdlle. de Cardoville was about mechanically to take a chair, when Rose + Pompon, worthy to practise those ancient virtues of hospitality, which + regarded even an enemy as sacred in the person of a guest, cried out + hastily: “Don’t take that chair, madame; it wants a leg.” + </p> + <p> + Adrienne laid her hand on another chair. + </p> + <p> + “Nor that either; the back is quite loose,” again exclaimed + Rose-Pompon. And she spoke the truth; for the chair-back, which was made + in the form of a lyre, remained in the hands of Mdlle. de Cardoville, who + said, as she replaced it discreetly in its former position: “I + think, miss, that we can very well talk standing.” + </p> + <p> + “As you please, madame,” replied Rose-Pompon, steadying + herself the more bravely the more uneasy she felt. And the interview of + the lady and the grisette began in this fashion. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0141" id="link2HCH0141"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXXVI. THE INTERVIEW. + </h2> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">A</span>fter a minute’s + hesitation, Rose-Pompon said to Adrienne, whose heart was beating + violently: “I will tell you directly, madame, what I have on my + mind. I should not have gone out of my way to seek you, but, as I happen + to fall in with you, it is very natural I should take advantage of it.” + </p> + <p> + “But, miss,” said Adrienne, mildly, “may I at least know + the subject of the conversation we are to have together?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, madame,” replied Rose-Pompon, affecting an air of still + more decided confidence; “first of all, you must not suppose I am + unhappy, or going to make a scene of jealousy, or cry like a forsaken + damsel. Do not flatter yourself! Thank heaven, I have no reason to + complain of Prince Charming—that is the pet name I gave him—on + the contrary, he has made me very happy. If I left him, it was against his + will, and because I chose.” + </p> + <p> + So saying, Rose-Pompon, whose heart was swelling in spite of her fine + airs, could not repress a sigh. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, madame,” she resumed, “I left him because I chose—for + he quite doted on me. If I had liked, he would have married me—yes, + madame, married me—so much the worse, if that gives you pain. + Though, when I say ‘so much the worse,’ it is true that I + meant to pain you. To be sure I did—but then, just now when I saw + you so kind to poor Mother Bunch, though I was certainly in the right, + still I felt something. However, to cut matters short, it is clear that I + detest you, and that you deserve it,” added Rose-Pompon, stamping + her foot. + </p> + <p> + From all this it resulted, even for a person much less sagacious than + Adrienne, and much less interested in discovering the truth, that Rose + Pompon, notwithstanding her triumphant airs in speaking of him whom she + represented as so much attached to her, and even anxious to wed her, was + in reality completely disappointed, and was now taking refuge in a + deliberate falsehood. It was evident that she was not loved, and that + nothing but violent jealousy had induced her to desire this interview with + Mdlle. de Cardoville, in order to make what is vulgarly called a scene, + considering Adrienne (the reason will be explained presently) as her + successful rival. But Rose-Pompon, having recovered her good-nature, found + it very difficult to continue the scene in question, particularly as, for + many reasons, she felt overawed by Adrienne. + </p> + <p> + Though she had expected, if not the singular speech of the grisette, at + least something of the same result—for she felt it was impossible + that the prince could entertain a serious attachment for this girl—Mdlle. + de Cardoville was at first delighted to hear the confirmation of her hopes + from the lips of her rival; but suddenly these hopes were succeeded by a + cruel apprehension, which we will endeavor to explain. What Adrienne had + just heard ought to have satisfied her completely. Sure that the heart of + Djalma had never ceased to belong to her, she ought, according to the + customs and opinions of the world, to have cared little if, in the + effervescence of an ardent youth, he had chanced to yield to some + ephemeral caprice for this creature, who was, after all, very pretty and + desirable—the more especially as he had now repaired his error by + separating from her. + </p> + <p> + Notwithstanding these good reasons, such an error of the senses would not + have been pardoned by Adrienne. She did not understand that complete + separation of the body and soul that would make the one exempt from the + stains of the other. She did not think it a matter of indifference to toy + with one woman whilst you were thinking of another. Her young, chaste, + passionate love demanded an absolute fealty—a fealty as just in the + eyes of heaven and nature as it may be ridiculous and foolish in the eyes + of man. For the very reason that she cherished a refined religion of the + senses, and revered them as an adorable and divine manifestation, Adrienne + had all sorts of delicate scruples and nice repugnances, unknown to the + austere spirituality of those ascetic prudes who despise vile matter too + much to take notice of its errors, and allow it to grovel in filth, to + show the contempt in which they hold it. Mdlle. de Cardoville was not one + of those wonderfully modest creatures who would die of confusion rather + than say plainly that they wished for a young and handsome husband, at + once ardent and pure. It is true that they generally marry old, ugly, and + corrupted men, and make up for it by taking two or three lovers six months + after. But Adrienne felt instinctively how much of virginal and celestial + freshness there is in the equal innocence of two loving and passionate + beings—what guarantees for the future in the remembrance which a man + preserves of his first love! + </p> + <p> + We say, then, that Adrienne was only half-satisfied, though convinced by + the vexation of Rose-Pompon that Djalma had never entertained a serious + attachment for the grisette. + </p> + <p> + “And why do you detest me, miss?” said Adrienne mildly, when + Rose-Pompon had finished her speech. + </p> + <p> + “Oh! bless me, madame!” replied the latter, forgetting + altogether her assumption of triumph, and yielding to the natural + sincerity of her character; “pretend that you don’t know why I + detest you!—Oh, yes! people go and pick bouquets from the jaws of a + panther for people that they care nothing about, don’t they? And if + it was only that!” added Rose-Pompon, who was gradually getting + animated, and whose pretty face, at first contracted into a sullen pout, + now assumed an expression of real and yet half-comic sorrow. + </p> + <p> + “And if it was only the nosegay!” resumed she. “Though + it gave me a dreadful turn to see Prince Charming leap like a kid upon the + stage, I might have said to myself: ‘Pooh! these Indians have their + own way of showing politeness. Here, a lady drops her nosegay, and a + gentleman picks it up and gives it to her; but in India it is quite + another thing; the man picks up the nosegay, and does not return it to the + woman—he only kills a panther before her eyes.’ Those are good + manners in that country, I suppose; but what cannot be good manners + anywhere is to treat a woman as I have been treated. And all thanks to + you, madame!” + </p> + <p> + These complaints of Rose-Pompon, at once bitter and laughable, did not at + all agree with what she had previously stated as to Djalma’s + passionate love for her; but Adrienne took care not to point out this + contradiction, and said to her, mildly: “You must be mistaken, miss, + when you suppose that I had anything to do with your troubles. But, in any + case, I regret sincerely that you should have been ill-treated by any one.” + </p> + <p> + “If you think I have been beaten, you are quite wrong,” + exclaimed Rose Pompon. “Ah! well, I am sure! No, it is not that. But + I am certain that, had it not been for you, Prince Charming would have got + to love me a little. I am worthy of the trouble, after all—and then + there are different sorts of love—I am not so very particular—not + even so much as that,” added Rose-Pompon, snapping her fingers. + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” she continued, “when Ninny Moulin came to fetch + me, and brought me jewels and laces to persuade me to go with him, he was + quite right in saying there was no harm in his offers.” + </p> + <p> + “Ninny Moulin?” asked Mdlle. de Cardoville, becoming more and + more interested; “who is this Ninny Moulin, miss?” + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:65%;"> + <img src="images/30189m.jpg" alt="30189m” width=" /><br /> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/30189.jpg"><i>Original</i></a> + </h5> + <p> + “A religious writer,” answered Rose-Pompon, pouting; “the + right-hand man of a lot of old sacristans, whose money he takes on + pretense of writing about morality and religion. A fine morality it is!” + </p> + <p> + At these words—“a religious writer”—“sacristans” + Adrienne instantly divined some new plot of Rodin or Father d’Aigrigny, + of which she and Djalma were to have been the victims. She began vaguely + to perceive the real state of the case, as she resumed: “But, miss, + under what pretence could this man take you away with him?” + </p> + <p> + “He came to fetch me, and said I need not fear for my virtue, and + was only to make myself look pretty. So I said to myself: ‘Philemon’s + out of town, and it’s very dull here all alone: This seems a droll + affair; what can I risk by it?’—Alas! I didn’t know what + I risked,” added Rose Pompon, with a sigh. “Well! Ninny Moulin + takes me away in a fine carriage. We stop in the Place du Palais-Royal. A + sullen-looking man, with a yellow face, gets up in the room of Ninny + Moulin, and takes me to the house of Prince Charming. When I saw him—la! + he was so handsome, so very handsome, that I was quite dizzy-like; and he + had such a kind, noble air, that I said to myself, ‘Well! there will + be some credit if I remain a good girl now!’—I did not know + what a true word I was speaking. I have been good—oh! worse than + good.” + </p> + <p> + “What, miss! do you regret having been so virtuous?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, you see, I regret, at least, that I have not had the pleasure + of refusing. But how can you refuse, when nothing is asked—when you + are not even thought worth one little loving word?” + </p> + <p> + “But, miss, allow me to observe to you that the indifference of + which you complain does not see to have prevented your making a long stay + in the house in question.” + </p> + <p> + “How should I know why the prince kept me there, or took me out + riding with him, or to the play? Perhaps it is the fashion in his savage + country to have a pretty girl by your side, and to pay no attention to her + at all!” + </p> + <p> + “But why, then, did you remain, miss?” + </p> + <p> + “Why did I remain?” said Rose-Pompon, stamping her loot with + vexation. “I remained because, without knowing how it happened, I + began to get very fond of Prince Charming; and what is queer enough, I, + who am as gay as a lark, loved him because he was so sorrowful, which + shows that it was a serious matter. At last, one day, I could hold out no + longer. I said: ‘Never mind; I don’t care for the + consequences. Philemon, I am sure, is having his fun in the country.’ + That set my mind at ease. So one morning, I dress myself in my best, all + very pretty, look in my glass, and say: ‘Well, that will do—he + can’t stand that! and, going to his room, I tell him all that passes + through my head; I laugh, I cry—at last I tell him that I adore him. + What do you think he answers, in his mild voice, and as cold as a piece of + marble? Why, ‘Poor child—poor child—poor child!’” + added Rose-Pompon, with indignation; “neither more nor less than if + I had come to complain to him of the toothache. But the worst of it is + that I am sure, if he were not in love elsewhere, he would be all fire and + gunpowder. Only now he is so sad, so dejected!” + </p> + <p> + Then, pausing a moment, Rose-Pompon added: “No, I will not tell you + that; you would be too pleased.” But, after another pause, she + continued: “Well, never mind; I will tell you, though”; and + this singular girl looked at Mdlle. de Cardoville with a mixture of + sympathy and deference. “Why should I keep it from you? I began by + riding the high horse, and saying that the prince wished to marry me; and + I finished by confessing that he almost turned me out. Well, it’s + not my fault; when I try to fib, I am sure to get confused. So, madame, + this is the plain truth:—When I met you at poor Mother Bunch’s, + I was at first as angry as a little turkey-cock; but when I heard you, + that are such a fine great lady, speak so kindly to the poor girl, and + treat her as your sister, do what I would, my anger began to go away. + Since we have been here, I have done my utmost to get it up again; but I + find it impossible, and the more I see the difference between us, the more + I perceive that Prince Charming was right in thinking so much of you. For + you must know, madame, that he is over head and ears in love with you. I + don’t say so merely because he killed the panther for you at the + Porte-Saint-Martin; but if you knew all the tricks he played with your + bouquet, and how he will sit up all night weeping in that room where he + saw you for the first time—and then your portrait, that he has drawn + upon glass, after the fashion of his country, and so many other things—the + fact is, that I, who was fond of him, and saw all this was at first in a + great rage; but afterwards it was so touching that it brought the tears + into my eyes. Yes, madame, just as it does now, when I merely think of the + poor prince. Oh, madame!” added Rose-Pompon, her eyes swimming in + tears, and with such an expression of sincere interest, that Adrienne was + much moved by it; “oh, madame, you look so mild and good, that you + will not make this poor prince miserable. Pray love him a little bit; what + can it matter to you?” + </p> + <p> + So saying, Rose-Pompon, with a perfectly simple, though too familiar, + gesture, took hold of Adrienne’s hand, as if to enforce her request. + It had required great self-command in Mdlle. de Cardoville to repress the + rush of joy that was mounting from her heart to her lips, to check the + torrent of questions which she burned to address to Rose-Pompon, and to + restrain the sweet tears of happiness that for some seconds had trembled + in her eyes; and, strangely enough, when Rose-Pompon took her hand, + Adrienne, instead of withdrawing it, pressed the offered hand almost + affectionately, and led her towards the window, as if to examine her sweet + face more attentively. + </p> + <p> + On entering the room, the grisette had thrown her bonnet and shawl down + upon the bed, so that Adrienne could admire the thick and silky masses of + light hair that crowned the fresh face of the charming girl, with its + firm, rosy cheeks, its mouth as red as a cherry, and its large blue + laughing eyes; and, thanks to the somewhat scanty dress of Rose-Pompon, + Adrienne could fully appreciate the various graces of her nymph-like + figure. Strange as it may appear, Adrienne was delighted at finding the + girl still prettier than she had at first imagined. The stoical + indifference of Djalma to so attractive a creature was the best proof of + the sincerity of the passion by which he was actuated. + </p> + <p> + Having taken the hand of Adrienne, Rose-Pompon was herself confused and + surprised at the kindness with which Mdlle. de Cardoville permitted this + familiarity. Emboldened by this indulgence, and by the silence of + Adrienne, who for some moments had been contemplating her with almost + grateful benevolence, the grisette resumed: “Oh, you will not + refuse, madame? You will take pity on this poor prince?” + </p> + <p> + We cannot tell how Adrienne would have answered this indiscreet question + of Rose-Pompon, for suddenly a loud, wild, shrill, piercing sound, + evidently intended to imitate the crowing of a cock, was heard close to + the door of the room. + </p> + <p> + Adrienne started in alarm; but the countenance of Rose Pompon, just now so + sad, brightened up joyously at this signal, and, clapping her hands she + exclaimed, “It is Philemon!” + </p> + <p> + “What—who?” said Adrienne, hastily. + </p> + <p> + “My lover; oh, the monster! he must have come upstairs on tiptoe, to + take me by surprise with his crowing. Just like him!” + </p> + <p> + A second cock-a-doodle-doo, still louder than the first, was heard close + to the door. “What a stupid, droll creature it is! Always the same + joke, and yet it always amuses me,” said Rose-Pompon. + </p> + <p> + And drying her tears with the back of her hand, she began to laugh like + one bewitched at Philemon’s jest, which, though well known to her, + always seemed new and agreeable. + </p> + <p> + “Do not open the door,” whispered Adrienne, much embarrassed; + “do not answer, I beg of you.” + </p> + <p> + “Though the door is bolted, the key is on the outside; Philemon can + see that there is some one at home.” + </p> + <p> + “No matter—do not let him in.” + </p> + <p> + “But, madame, he lives here; the room belongs to him.” + </p> + <p> + In fact, Philemon, probably growing tired of the little effect produced by + his two ornithological imitations, turned the key in the lock, and finding + himself unable to open the door, said in a deep bass voice: “What, + dearest puss, have you shut yourself in? Are you praying Saint Flambard + for the return of Philly?” (short for Philemon.) + </p> + <p> + Adrienne, not coshing to increase, by prolonging it, the awkwardness of + this ridiculous situation, went straight to the door and opened it, to the + great surprise of Philemon, who recoiled two or three steps. + Notwithstanding the annoyance of this incident, Mdlle. de Cardoville could + not help smiling at sight of Rose-Pompon’s lover, and of the + articles he carried in his hand or under his arm. + </p> + <p> + Philemon was a tall fellow, with dark hair and a very fresh color, and, + being just arrived from a journey, he wore a white cap; his thick, black + beard flowed down on his sky-blue waistcoat; and a short olive-colored + velvet shooting-coat, with extravagantly large plaid trousers, completed + his costume. As for the accessories which had provoked a smile from + Adrienne, they consisted: first, of a portmanteau tucked under his arm, + with the head and neck of a goose protruding from it; secondly, of a cage + held in his hand, with an enormous white rabbit all alive within it. + </p> + <p> + “Oh! the darling white rabbit! what pretty red eyes!” Such, it + must be confessed, was the first exclamation of Rose-Pompon, though + Philemon, to whom it was not addressed, had returned after a long absence; + but the student far from being shocked at seeing himself thus sacrificed + to his long-earned companion, smiled complacently, rejoicing at the + success of his attempt to please his mistress. + </p> + <p> + All this passed very rapidly. While Rose-Pompon, kneeling before the cage, + was still occupied with her admiration of the rabbit, Philemon, struck + with the lofty air of Mdlle. de Cardoville, raised his hand to his cap, + and bowed respectfully as he made way for her to pass. Adrienne returned + his salutation with politeness, full of grace and dignity, and, lightly + descending the stairs, soon disappeared. Dazzled by her beauty, as well as + impressed with her noble and lofty bearing, and curious to know how in the + world Rose-Pompon had fallen in with such an acquaintance, Philemon said + to her, in his amorous jargon: “Dearest puss! tell her Philly who is + that fine lady?” + </p> + <p> + “One of my school-fellows, you great satyr!” said Rose-Pompon, + still playing with the rabbit. + </p> + <p> + Then, glancing at a box, which Philemon deposited close to the cage and + the portmanteau, she added: “I’ll wager anything you have + brought me some more preserves!” + </p> + <p> + “Philly has brought something better to his dear puss,” said + the student, imprinting two vigorous kisses on the rosy cheeks of + Rose-Pompon, who had at length, consented to stand up; “Philly has + brought her his heart.” + </p> + <p> + “Fudge!” said the grisette, delicately placing the thumb of + her left hand on the tip of her nose, and opening the fingers, which she + slightly moved to and fro. Philemon answered this provocation by putting + his arm around her waist; and then the happy pair shut their door. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0142" id="link2HCH0142"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXXVII. SOOTHING WORDS. + </h2> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">D</span>uring the + interview of Adrienne with Rose-Pompon a touching scene took place between + Agricola and Mother Bunch, who had been much surprised at Mdlle. de + Cardoville’s condescension with regard to the grisette. Immediately + after the departure of Adrienne, Agricola had knelt down beside Mother + Bunch, and said to her, with profound emotion: “We are alone, and I + can at length tell you what weighs upon my heart. This act is too cruel—to + die of misery and despair, and not to send to me for assistance.” + </p> + <p> + “Listen to me, Agricola—” + </p> + <p> + “No, there is no excuse for this. What! we called each other by the + names of brother and sister, and for fifteen years gave every proof of + sincere affection—and, when the day of misfortune comes, you quit + life without caring for those you must leave behind—without + considering that to kill yourself is to tell them they are indifferent to + you!” + </p> + <p> + “Forgive me, Agricola! it is true. I had never thought of that,” + said the workgirl, casting down her eyes; “but poverty—want of + work—” + </p> + <p> + “Misery! want of work! and was I not here?” + </p> + <p> + “And despair!” + </p> + <p> + “But why despair? This generous young lady had received you in her + house; she knew your worth, and treated you as her friend—and just + at the moment when you had every chance of happiness, you leave the house + abruptly, and we remain in the most horrible anxiety on your account.” + </p> + <p> + “I feared—to be—to be a burden to my benefactress,” + stammered she. + </p> + <p> + “You a burden to Mdlle. de Cardoville, that is so rich and good!” + </p> + <p> + “I feared to be indiscreet,” said the sewing-girl, more and + more embarrassed. + </p> + <p> + Instead of answering his adopted sister, Agricola remained silent, and + contemplated her for some moments with an undefinable expression; then he + exclaimed suddenly, as if replying to a question put by himself: “She + will forgive me for disobeying her.—I am sure of it.” + </p> + <p> + He next turned towards Mother Bunch, who was looking at him in + astonishment, and said to her in a voice of emotion: “I am too frank + to keep up this deception. I am reproaching you—blaming you—and + my thoughts are quite different.” + </p> + <p> + “How so, Agricola?” + </p> + <p> + “My heart aches, when I think of the evil I have done you.” + </p> + <p> + “I do not understand you, my friend; you have never done me any + evil.” + </p> + <p> + “What! never? even in little things? when, for instance, yielding to + a detestable habit, I, who loved and respected you as my sister, insulted + you a hundred times a day?” + </p> + <p> + “Insulted me!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes—when I gave you an odious and ridiculous nickname, + instead of calling you properly.” + </p> + <p> + At these words, Mother Bunch looked at the smith in the utmost alarm, + trembling lest he had discovered her painful secret, notwithstanding the + assurance she had received from Mdlle. de Cardoville. Yet she calmed + herself a little when she reflected, that Agricola might of himself have + thought of the humiliation inflicted on her by calling her Mother Bunch, + and she answered him with a forced smile. “Can you be grieved at so + small a thing? It was a habit, Agricola, from childhood. When did your + good and affectionate mother, who nevertheless loved me as her daughter, + ever call me anything else?” + </p> + <p> + “And did my mother consult you about my marriage, speak to you of + the rare beauty of my bride, beg you to come and see her, and study her + character, in the hope that the instinct of your affection for me would + warn you—if I made a bad choice? Did my mother have this cruelty?—No; + it was I, who thus pierced your heart!” + </p> + <p> + The fears of the hearer were again aroused; there could be but little + doubt that Agricola knew her secret. She felt herself sinking with + confusion; yet, making a last effort not to believe the discovery, she + murmured in a feeble voice: “True, Agricola! It was not your mother, + but yourself, who made me that request—and I was grateful to you for + such a mark of confidence.” + </p> + <p> + “Grateful, my poor girl!” cried the smith, whilst his eyes + filled with tears; “no, it is not true. I pained you fearfully—I + was merciless—heaven knows, without being aware of it!” + </p> + <p> + “But,” said the other, in a voice now almost unintelligible, + “what makes you think so?” + </p> + <p> + “Your love for me!” cried the smith, trembling with emotion, + as he clasped Mother Bunch in a brotherly embrace. + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:65%;"> + <img src="images/30197m.jpg" alt="30197m” width=" /><br /> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/30197.jpg"><i>Original</i></a> + </h5> + <p> + “Oh heaven!” murmured the unfortunate creature, as she covered + her face with her hands, “he knows all.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I know all,” resumed Agricola, with an expression of + ineffable tenderness and respect: “yes, I know all, and I will not + have you blush for a sentiment, which honors me, and of which I feel so + justly proud. Yes, I know all; and I say to myself with joy and pride, + that the best, the most noble heart in the world is mine—will be + mine always. Come, Magdalen; let us leave shame to evil passions. Raise + your eyes, and look at me! You know, if my countenance was ever false—if + it ever reflected a feigned emotion. Then look and tell me, if you cannot + read in my features, how proud I am, Magdalen, how justly proud of your + love!” + </p> + <p> + Overwhelmed with grief and confusion, Mother Bunch had not dared to look + on Agricola; but his words expressed so deep a conviction, the tones of + his voice revealed so tender an emotion, that the poor creature felt her + shame gradually diminish, particularly when Agricola added, with rising + animation: “Be satisfied, my sweet, my noble Magdalen; I will be + worthy of this love. Believe me, it shall yet cause you as much happiness + as it has occasioned tears. Why should this love be a motive for + estrangement, confusion, fear? For what is love, in the sense in which it + is held by your generous heart? Is it not a continual exchange of + devotion, tenderness, esteem, of mutual and blind confidence?—Why, + Magdalen! we may have all this for one another—devotion, tenderness, + confidence—even more than in times past; for, on a thousand + occasions, your secret inspired you with fear and suspicion—while, + for the future, on the contrary, you will see me take such delight in the + place I fill in your good and valiant heart, that you will be happy in the + happiness you bestow. What I have just said may seem very selfish and + conceited; so much the worse! I do not know how to lie.” + </p> + <p> + The longer the smith spoke, the less troubled became Mother Bunch. What + she had above all feared in the discovery of her secret was to see it + received with raillery, contempt, or humiliating compassion; far from + this, joy and happiness were distinctly visible on the manly and honest + face of Agricola. The hunchback knew him incapable of deception; therefore + she exclaimed, this time without shame or confusion, but rather with a + sort of pride. + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:65%;"> + <img src="images/30205m.jpg" alt="30205m” width=" /><br /> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/30205.jpg"><i>Original</i></a> + </h5> + <p> + “Every sincere and pure passion is so far good and con soling as to + end by deserving interest and sympathy, when it has triumphed over its + first excess! It is alike honorable to the heart which feels and that + which inspires it!—Thanks to you, Agricola—thanks to the kind + words, which have raised me in my own esteem—I feel that, instead of + blushing, I ought to be proud of this love. My benefactress is right—you + are right: why should I be ashamed of it? Is it not a true and sacred + love? To be near you, to love you, to tell you so, to prove it by constant + devotion, what did I ever desire more? And yet shame and fear, joined with + that dizziness of the brain which extreme misery produces, drove me to + suicide!—But then some allowance must be made for the suspicions of + a poor creature, who has been the subject of ridicule from her cradle. So + my secret was to die with me, unless some unforeseen accident should + reveal it to you; and, in that case, you are right—sure of myself, + sure of you, I ought to have feared nothing. But I may claim some + indulgence; mistrust, cruel mistrust of one’s self makes one doubt + others also. Let us forget all that. Agricola, my generous brother, I will + say to you, as you said to me just now, ‘Look at me; you know my + countenance cannot lie. Look at me: see if I shun your gaze; see if, ever + in my life, I looked so happy’—and yet, even now, I was about + to die!” + </p> + <p> + She spoke the truth. Agricola himself could not have hoped so prompt an + effect from his words. In spite of the deep traces which misery, grief, + and sickness had imprinted on the girl’s features, they now shone + with radiant happiness and serenity, whilst her blue eyes, gentle and pure + as her soul, were fixed, without embarrassment, on those of Agricola. + </p> + <p> + “Oh! thanks, thanks!” cried the smith, in a rapture of + delight: “when I see you so calm, and so happy, Magdalen, I am + indeed grateful.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I am calm, I am happy,” replied she; “and happy I + shall be, for I can now tell you my most secret thoughts. Yes, happy; for + this day, which began so fatally, ends like a divine dream. Far from being + afraid, I now look at you with hope and joy. I have again found my + generous benefactress, and I am tranquil as to the fate of my poor sister. + Oh! shall we not soon see her? I should like her to take part in this + happiness.” + </p> + <p> + She seemed so happy, that the smith did not dare to inform her of the + death of Cephyse, and reserved himself to communicate the same at a more + fitting opportunity. Therefore he answered: “Cephyse, being the + stronger, has been the more shaken; it will not be prudent, I am told, to + see her to-day.” + </p> + <p> + “I will wait then. I can repress my impatience, I have so much to + say to you.” + </p> + <p> + “Dear, gentle Magdalen!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, my friend!” cried the girl, interrupting Agricola, with + tears of joy: “I cannot tell you what I feel, when I hear you call + me Magdalen. It is so sweet, so soothing, that my heart expands with + delight.” + </p> + <p> + “Poor girl! how dreadfully she must have suffered!” cried the + smith, with inexpressible emotion, “when she displays so much + happiness, so much gratitude, at being called by her own poor name!” + </p> + <p> + “But consider, my friend; that word in your mouth contains a new + life for me. If you only knew what hopes, what pleasures I can now see + gleaming in the future! If you knew all the cherished longings of my + tenderness! Your wife, the charming Angela, with her angel face and + angel-soul—oh! in my turn, I can say to, you, ‘Look at me, and + see how sweet that name is to my lips and heart!’ Yes, your + charming, your good Angela will call me Magdalen—and your children, + Agricola, your children!—dear little creatures!—to them also I + shall be Magdalen—their good Magdalen—and the love I shall + bear them will make them mine, as well as their mother’s—and I + shall have my part in every maternal care—and they will belong to us + three; will they not, Agricola?—Oh! let me, let me weep! These tears + without bitterness do me so much good; they are tears that need not be + concealed. Thank heaven! thank you, my friend! those other tears are I + trust dried forever.” + </p> + <p> + For some seconds, this affecting scene had been overlooked by an invisible + witness. The smith and Mother Bunch had not perceived Mdlle. de Cardoville + standing on the threshold of the door. As Mother Bunch had said, this day, + which dawned with all under such fatal auspices, had become for all a day + of ineffable felicity. Adrienne, too, was full of joy, for Djalma had been + faithful to her, Djalma loved her with passion. The odious appearances, of + which she had been the dupe and victim, evidently formed part of a new + plot of Rodin, and it only remained for Mdlle. de Cardoville to discover + the end of these machinations. + </p> + <p> + Another joy was reserved for her. The happy are quick in detecting + happiness in others, and Adrienne guessed, by the hunchback’s last + words, that there was no longer any secret between the smith and the + sempstress. She could not therefore help exclaiming, as she entered: + “Oh! this will be the brightest day of my life, for I shall not be + happy alone!” + </p> + <p> + Agricola and Mother Bunch turned round hastily. “Lady,” said + the smith, “in spite of the promise I made you, I could not conceal + from Magdalen that I knew she loved me!” + </p> + <p> + “Now that I no longer blush for this love before Agricola, why + should I blush for it before you, lady, that told me to be proud of it, + because it is noble and pure?” said Mother Bunch, to whom her + happiness gave strength enough to rise, and to lean upon Agricola’s + arm. + </p> + <p> + “It is well, my friend,” said Adrienne, as she threw her arms + round her to support her; “only one word, to excuse the indiscretion + with which you will perhaps reproach me. If I told your secret to M. + Agricola—” + </p> + <p> + “Do you know why it was, Magdalen?” cried the smith, + interrupting Adrienne. “It was only another proof of the lady’s + delicate generosity. ‘I long hesitate to confide to you this secret,’ + said she to me this morning, ‘but I have at length made up my mind + to it. We shall probably find your adopted sister; you have been to her + the best of brothers: but many times, without knowing it, you have wounded + her feelings cruelly—and now that you know her secret, I trust in + your kind heart to keep it faithfully, and so spare the poor child a + thousand pangs—pangs the more bitter, because they come from you, + and are suffered in silence. Hence, when you speak to her of your wife, + your domestic happiness, take care not to gall that noble and tender + heart.’—Yes, Magdalen, these were the reasons that led the + lady to commit what she called an indiscretion.” + </p> + <p> + “I want words to thank you now and ever,” said Mother Bunch. + </p> + <p> + “See, my friend,” replied Adrienne, “how often the + designs of the wicked turn against themselves. They feared your devotion + to me, and therefore employed that unhappy Florine to steal your journal—” + </p> + <p> + “So as to drive me from your house with shame, lady, When I supposed + my most secret thoughts an object of ridicule to all. There can be no + doubt such was their plan,” said Mother Bunch. + </p> + <p> + “None, my child. Well! this horrible wickedness, which nearly caused + your death, now turns to the confusion of the criminals. Their plot is + discovered—and, luckily, many other of their designs,” said + Adrienne, as she thought of Rose-Pompon. + </p> + <p> + Then she resumed, with heartfelt joy: “At last, we are again united, + happier than ever, and in our very happiness we shall find new resources + to combat our enemies. I say our enemies—for all that love me are + odious to these wretches. But courage, the hour is come, and the good + people will have their turn.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank heaven, lady,” said the smith; “or my part, I + shall not be wanting in zeal. What delight to strip them of their mask!” + </p> + <p> + “Let me remind you, M. Baudoin, that you have an appointment for to + morrow with M. Hardy.” + </p> + <p> + “I have not forgotten it, lady, any more than the generous offers I + am to convey to him.” + </p> + <p> + “That is nothing. He belongs to my family. Tell him (what indeed I + shall write to him this evening), that the funds necessary to reopen his + factory are at his disposal; I do not say so for his sake only, but for + that of a hundred families reduced to want. Beg him to quit immediately + the fatal abode to which they have taken him: for a thousand reasons he + should be on his guard against all that surround him.” + </p> + <p> + “Be satisfied, lady. The letter he wrote to me in reply to the one I + got secretly delivered to him, was short, affectionate, sad—but he + grants me the interview I had asked for, and I am sure I shall be able to + persuade him to leave that melancholy dwelling, and perhaps to depart with + me, he has always had so much confidence in my attachment.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, M. Baudoin, courage!” said Adrienne, as she threw her + cloak over the workgirl’s shoulders, and wrapped her round with + care. “Let us be gone, for it is late. As soon as we get home, I + will give you a letter for M. Hardy, and to-morrow you will come and tell + me the result of your visit. No, not to-morrow,” she added, blushing + slightly. “Write to me to-morrow, and the day after, about twelve, + come to me.” + </p> + <p> + Some minutes later, the young sempstress, supported by Agricola and + Adrienne, had descended the stairs of that gloomy house, and, being placed + in the carriage by the side of Mdlle. de Cardoville, she earnestly + entreated to be allowed to see Cephyse; it was in vain that Agricola + assured her it was impossible, and that she should see her the next day. + Thanks to the information derived from Rose-Pompon, Mdlle. de Cardoville + was reasonably suspicious of all those who surrounded Djalma, and she + therefore took measures, that, very evening, to have a letter delivered to + the prince by what she considered a sure hand. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0143" id="link2HCH0143"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXXVIII. THE TWO CARRIAGES. + </h2> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">I</span>t is the evening + of the day on which Mdlle. de Cardoville prevented the sewing-girl’s + suicide. It strikes eleven; the night is dark; the wind blows with + violence, and drives along great black clouds, which completely hide the + pale lustre of the moon. A hackney-coach, drawn by two broken-winded + horses, ascends slowly and with difficulty the slope of the Rue Blanche, + which is pretty steep near the barrier, in the part where is situated the + house occupied by Djalma. + </p> + <p> + The coach stops. The coachman, cursing the length of an interminable drive + “within the circuit,” leading at last to this difficult + ascent, turns round on his box, leans over towards the front window of the + vehicle, and says in a gruff tone to the person he is driving: “Come! + are we almost there? From the Rue de Vaugirard to the Barriere Blanche, is + a pretty good stretch, I think, without reckoning that the night is so + dark, that one can hardly see two steps before one—and the + street-lamps not lighted because of the moon, which doesn’t shine, + after all!” + </p> + <p> + “Look out for a little door with a portico-drive on about twenty + yards beyond—and then stop close to the wall,” answered a + squeaking voice, impatiently, and with an Italian accent. + </p> + <p> + “Here is a beggarly Dutchman, that will make me as savage as a bear?” + muttered the angry Jehu to himself. Then he added: “Thousand + thunders! I tell you that I can’t see. How the devil can I find out + your little door?” + </p> + <p> + “Have you no sense? Follow the wall to the right, brush against it, + and you will easily find the little door. It is next to No. 50. If you do + not find it, you must be drunk,” answered the Italian, with + increased bitterness. + </p> + <p> + The coachman only replied by swearing like a trooper, and whipping up his + jaded horses. Then, keeping close to the wall, he strained his eyes in + trying to read the numbers of the houses, by the aid of his carriage + lamps. + </p> + <p> + After some moments, the coach again stopped. “I have passed No. 50, + and here is a little door with a portico,” said the coachman. + “Is that the one?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said the voice. “Now go forward some twenty + yards, and then stop.” + </p> + <p> + “Well! I never—” + </p> + <p> + “Then get down from your box, and give twice three knocks at the + little door we have just passed—you understand me?—twice three + knocks.” + </p> + <p> + “Is that all you give me to drink?” cried the exasperated + coachman. + </p> + <p> + “When you have taken me back to the Faubourg Saint-Germain, where I + live, you shall have something handsome, if you do but manage matters + well.” + </p> + <p> + “Ha! now the Faubourg Saint-Germain! Only that little bit of + distance!” said the driver, with repressed rage. “And I who + have winded my horses, wanted to be on the boulevard by the time the play + was out. Well, I’m blowed!” Then, putting a good face on his + bad luck, and consoling himself with the thought of the promised + drink-money, he resumed: “I am to give twice three knocks at the + little door?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; three knocks first—then pause—then three other + knocks. Do you understand?” + </p> + <p> + “What next?” + </p> + <p> + “Tell the person who comes, that he is waited for, and bring him + here to the coach.” + </p> + <p> + “The devil burn you!” said the coachman to himself, as he + turned round on the box, and whipped up his horses, adding: “this + crusty old Dutchman has something to do with Free-masons, or, perhaps, + smugglers, seeing we are so near the gates. He deserves my giving him in + charge, for bringing me all the way from the Rue de Vaugirard.” + </p> + <p> + At twenty steps beyond the little door, the coach again stopped, and the + coachman descended from the box to execute the orders he had received. + Going to the little door, he knocked three times; then paused, as he had + been desired, and then knocked three times more. The clouds, which had + hitherto been so thick as entirely to conceal the disk of the moon, just + then withdrew sufficiently to afford a glimmering light, so that when the + door opened at the signal, the coachman saw a middle-sized person issue + from it, wrapped in a cloak, and wearing a colored cap. + </p> + <p> + This man carefully locked the door, and then advanced two steps into the + street. “They are waiting for you,” said the coachman; “I + am to take you along with me to the coach.” + </p> + <p> + Preceding the man with the cloak, who only answered him by a nod, he led + him to the coach-door, which he was about to open, and to let down the + step, when the voice exclaimed from the inside: “It is not + necessary. The gentleman may talk to me through the window. I will call + you when it is time to start.” + </p> + <p> + “Which means that I shall be kept here long enough to send you to + all the devils!” murmured the driver. “However, I may as well + walk about, just to stretch my legs.” + </p> + <p> + So saying, he began to walk up and down, by the side of the wall in which + was the little door. Presently he heard the distant sound of wheels, which + soon came nearer and nearer, and a carriage, rapidly ascending the slope, + stopped on the other side of the little garden-door. + </p> + <p> + “Come, I say! a private carriage!” said the coachman. “Good + horses those, to come up the Rue Blanche at a trot.” + </p> + <p> + The coachman was just making this observation, when, by favor of a + momentary gleam of light, he saw a man step from the carriage, advance + rapidly to the little door, open it, and go in, closing it after him. + </p> + <p> + “It gets thicker and thicker!” said the coachman. “One + comes out, and the other goes in.” + </p> + <p> + So saying, he walked up to the carriage. It was splendidly harnessed, and + drawn by two handsome and vigorous horses. The driver sat motionless, in + his great box-coat, with the handle of his whip resting on his right knee. + </p> + <p> + “Here’s weather to drive about in, with such tidy dukes as + yours, comrade!” said the humble hackney-coachman to this automaton, + who remained mute and impassible, without even appearing to know that he + was spoken to. + </p> + <p> + “He doesn’t understand French—he’s an Englishman. + One could tell that by his horses,” said the coachman, putting this + interpretation on the silence of his brother whip. Then, perceiving a tall + footman at a little distance, dressed in a long gray livery coat, with + blue collar and silver buttons, the coachman addressed himself to him, by + way of compensation, but without much varying his phrase: “Here’s + nice weather to stand about in, comrade!” On the part of the + footman, he was met with the same imperturbable silence. + </p> + <p> + “They’re both Englishmen,” resumed the coachman, + philosophically; and, though somewhat astonished at the incident of the + little door, he recommenced his walk in the direction of his own vehicle. + </p> + <p> + While these facts were passing, the man in the cloak, and the man with the + Italian accent continued their conversation, the one still in the coach, + and the other leaning with his hand on the door. It had already lasted for + some time, and was carried on in Italian. They were evidently talking of + some absent person, as will appear from the following. + </p> + <p> + “So,” said the voice from the coach, “that is agreed to?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, my lord,” answered the man in the cloak; “but only + in case the eagle should become a serpent.” + </p> + <p> + “And, in the contrary event, you will receive the other half of the + ivory crucifix I gave you.” + </p> + <p> + “I shall know what it means, my lord.” + </p> + <p> + “Continue to merit and preserve his confidence.” + </p> + <p> + “I will merit and preserve it, my lord, because I admire and respect + this man, who is stronger than the strongest, by craft, and courage, and + will. I have knelt before him with humility, as I would kneel before one + of the three black idols that stand between Bowanee and her worshippers; + for his religion, like mine, teaches to change life into nothingness.” + </p> + <p> + “Humph!” said the voice, in a tone of some embarrassment; + “these comparisons are useless and inaccurate. Only think of obeying + him, without explaining your obedience.” + </p> + <p> + “Let him speak, and I perform his will! I am in his hands like a + corpse, as he himself expresses it. He has seen, he sees every day, my + devotion to his interests with regard to Prince Djalma. He has only to + say: ‘Kill him!’ and this son of a king—” + </p> + <p> + “For heaven’s salve, do not have such ideas!” cried the + voice, interrupting the man in the cloak. “Thank heaven, you will + never be asked for such proofs of your submission.” + </p> + <p> + “What I am ordered I do. Bowanee sees me.” + </p> + <p> + “I do not doubt your zeal. I know that you are a loving and + intelligent barrier, placed between the prince and many guilty interests; + and it is because I have heard of that zeal, of your skill in + circumventing this young Indian, and, above all, of the motives of your + blind devotion, that I have wished to inform you of everything. You are + the fanatical worshipper of him you serve. That is well; man should be the + obedient slave of the god he chooses for himself.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, my lord; so long as the god remains a god.” + </p> + <p> + “We understand each other perfectly. As for your recompense, you + know what I have promised.” + </p> + <p> + “My lord, I have my reward already.” + </p> + <p> + “How so?” + </p> + <p> + “I know what I know.” + </p> + <p> + “Very well. Then as for secrecy—” + </p> + <p> + “You have securities, my lord.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes—and sufficient ones.” + </p> + <p> + “The interest of the cause I serve, my lord, would alone be enough + to secure my zeal and discretion.” + </p> + <p> + “True; you are a man of firm and ardent convictions.” + </p> + <p> + “I strive to be so, my lord.” + </p> + <p> + “And, after all, a very religious man in your way. It is very + praiseworthy, in these irreligious times, to have any views at all on such + matters—particularly when those views will just enable me to count + upon your aid.” + </p> + <p> + “You may count upon it, my lord, for the same reason that the + intrepid hunter prefers a jackal to ten foxes, a tiger to ten jackals, a + lion to ten tigers, and the welmiss to ten lions.” + </p> + <p> + “What is the welmiss?” + </p> + <p> + “It is what spirit is to matter, the blade to the scabbard, the + perfume to the flower, the head to the body.” + </p> + <p> + “I understand. There never was a more just comparison. You are a man + of sound judgment. Always recollect what you have just told me, and make + yourself more and more worthy of the confidence of—your idol.” + </p> + <p> + “Will he soon be in a state to hear me, my lord?” + </p> + <p> + “In two or three days, at most. Yesterday a providential crisis + saved his life; and he is endowed with so energetic a will, that his cure + will be very rapid.” + </p> + <p> + “Shall you see him again to-morrow, my lord?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, before my departure, to bid him farewell.” + </p> + <p> + “Then tell him a strange circumstance, of which I have not been able + to inform him, but which happened yesterday.” + </p> + <p> + “What was it?” + </p> + <p> + “I had gone to the garden of the dead. I saw funerals everywhere, + and lighted torches, in the midst of the black night, shining upon tombs. + Bowanee smiled in her ebon sky. As I thought of that divinity of + destruction, I beheld with joy the dead-cart emptied of its coffins. The + immense pit yawned like the mouth of hell; corpses were heaped upon + corpses, and still it yawned the same. Suddenly, by the light of a torch, + I saw an old man beside me. He wept. I had seen him before. He is a Jew—the + keeper of the house in the Rue Saint-Francois—you know what I mean.” + Here the man in the cloak started. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I know; but what is the matter? why do you stop short?” + </p> + <p> + “Because in that house there has been for a hundred and fifty years + the portrait of a man whom I once met in the centre of India, on the banks + of the Ganges.” And the man in the cloak again paused and shuddered. + </p> + <p> + “A singular resemblance, no doubt.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, my lord, a singular resemblance—nothing more.” + </p> + <p> + “But the Jew—the old Jew?” + </p> + <p> + “I am coming to that, my lord. Still weeping, he said to a + gravedigger, ‘Well! and the coffin?’ ‘You were right,’ + answered the man; ‘I found it in the second row of the other grave. + It had the figure of a cross on it, formed by seven black nails. But how + could you know the place and the mark?’ ‘Alas! it is no + matter,’ replied the old Jew, with bitter melancholy. ‘You see + that I was but too well informed on the subject. But where is the coffin?’ + ‘Behind the great tomb of black marble; I have hidden it there. So + make haste; for, in the confusion, nothing will be noticed. You have paid + me well, and I wish you to succeed in what you require.’” + </p> + <p> + “And what did the old Jew do with the coffin marked with the seven + black nails?” + </p> + <p> + “Two men accompanied him, my lord, bearing a covered litter, with + curtains drawn round it. He lighted a lantern, and, followed by these two + men, went towards the place pointed out by the gravedigger. A stoppage, + occasioned by the dead-carts, made me lose sight of the old Jew, whom I + was following amongst the tombs. Afterwards I was unable to find him.” + </p> + <p> + “It is indeed a strange affair. What could this old Jew want with + the coffin?” + </p> + <p> + “It is said, my lord, that they use dead bodies in preparing their + magic charms.” + </p> + <p> + “Those unbelievers are capable of anything—even of holding + communication with the Enemy of mankind. However, we will look after this: + the discovery may be of importance.” + </p> + <p> + At this instant a clock struck twelve in the distance. + </p> + <p> + “Midnight! already?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, my lord.” + </p> + <p> + “I must be gone. Good-bye—but for the last time swear to me + that, should matters so turn out, as soon as you receive the other half of + the ivory crucifix I have just given you, you will keep your promise.” + </p> + <p> + “I have sworn it by Bowanee, my lord.” + </p> + <p> + “Don’t forget that, to make all sure, the person who will + deliver to you the other half of the crucifix is to say—come, what + is he to say?” + </p> + <p> + “He is to say, my lord: ‘There is many a slip ‘twixt the + cup and the lip.’” + </p> + <p> + “Very well. Adieu! secrecy and fidelity!” + </p> + <p> + “Secrecy and fidelity, my lord,” answered the man in the + cloak. + </p> + <p> + Some seconds after the hackney-coach started, carrying with it Cardinal + Malipieri, one of the speakers in the above dialogue. The other, whom the + reader has no doubt recognized as Faringhea, returned to the little + garden-door of the house occupied by Djalma. At the moment he was putting + the key into the lock, the door opened, to his great astonishment, and a + man came forth. Faringhea rushed upon the unknown, seized him violently by + the collar, and exclaimed: “Who are you? whence came you?” + </p> + <p> + The stranger evidently found the tone of this question anything but + satisfactory; for, instead of answering, he struggled to disengage himself + from Faringhea’s hold, and cried out, in a loud voice: “Help! + Peter!” + </p> + <p> + Instantly the carriage, which had been standing a few yards off, dashed up + at full speed, and Peter, the tall footman, seizing the half-breed by the + shoulders, flung him back several paces, and thus made a seasonable + diversion in favor of the unknown. + </p> + <p> + “Now, sir,” said the latter to Faringhea, shaking himself, and + still protected by the gigantic footman, “I am in a state to answer + your questions, though you certainly have a very rough way of receiving an + old acquaintance. I am Dupont, ex-bailiff of the estate of Cardoville, and + it was I who helped to fish you out of the water, when the ship was + wrecked in which you had embarked.” + </p> + <p> + By the light of the carriage-lamps, indeed, the half-caste recognized the + good, honest face of Dupont, formerly bailiff, and now house-steward, to + Mdlle. de Cardoville. It must not be forgotten that Dupont had been the + first to write to Mdlle. de Cardoville, to ask her to interest herself for + Djalma, who was then detained at Cardoville Castle by the injuries he had + received during the shipwreck. + </p> + <p> + “But, sir, what is your business here? Why do you introduce yourself + clandestinely into this house?” said Faringhea, in an abrupt and + suspicious tone. + </p> + <p> + “I will—just observe to you that there is nothing clandestine + in the matter. I came here in a carriage, with servants in the livery of + my excellent mistress, Mdlle. de Cardoville, charged by her, without any + disguise or mystery, to deliver a letter to Prince Djalma, her cousin,” + replied Dupont, with dignity. + </p> + <p> + On these words, Faringhea trembled with mute rage, as he answered: “And + why, sir, come at this late hour, and introduce yourself by this little + door?” + </p> + <p> + “I came at this hour, my dear sir, because such was Mdlle. de + Cardoville’s command, and I entered by this little gate because + there is every reason to believe that if I had gone around to the other I + should not have been permitted to see the prince.” + </p> + <p> + “You are mistaken, sir,” replied the half-caste. + </p> + <p> + “It is possible: but as we knew that the prince usually passed a + good portion of the night in the little saloon, which communicates with + the greenhouse, and as Mdlle. de Cardoville had kept a duplicate key of + this door, I was pretty certain, by taking this course, to be able to + deliver into the prince’s own hands the letter from Mdlle. de + Cardoville, his cousin, which I have now had the honor of doing, my dear + sir; and I have been deeply touched by the kindness with which the prince + deigned to receive me and to remember our last interview.” + </p> + <p> + “And who kept you so well informed, sir, of the prince’s + habits?” said Faringhea, unable to control his vexation. + </p> + <p> + “If I have been well informed as to his habits, my dear sir, I have + had no such correct knowledge of yours,” answered Dupont, with a + mocking air; “for I assure you that I had no more notion of seeing + you than you had of seeing me.” + </p> + <p> + So saying, M. Dupont bowed with something like mock politeness to the + half-caste, and got into the carriage, which drove off rapidly, leaving + Faringhea in a state of the utmost surprise and anger. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0144" id="link2HCH0144"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXXIX. THE APPOINTMENT. + </h2> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>he morning after—Dupont’s + mission to Prince Djalma, the latter was walking with hasty and impatient + step up and down the little saloon, which communicated, as we already + know, with the greenhouse from which Adrienne had entered when she first + appeared to him. In remembrance of that day, he had chosen to dress + himself as on the occasion in question; he wore the same tunic of white + cashmere, with a cherry-colored turban, to match with his girdle; his + gaiters, of scarlet velvet, embroidered with silver, displayed the fine + form of his leg, and terminated in small white morocco slippers, with red + heels. Happiness has so instantaneous, and, as it were, material an + influence upon young, lively, and ardent natures, that Djalma, dejected + and despairing only the day before, was no longer like the same person. + The pale, transparent gold of his complexion was no longer tarnished by a + livid hue. His large eyes, of late obscured like black diamonds by a humid + vapor, now shone with mild radiance in the centre of their pearly setting; + his lips, long pale, had recovered their natural color, which was rich and + soft as the fine purple flowers of his country. + </p> + <p> + Ever and anon, pausing in his hasty walk, he stopped suddenly, and drew + from his bosom a little piece of paper, carefully folded, which he pressed + to his lips with enthusiastic ardor. Then, unable to restrain the + expression of his full happiness, he uttered a full and sonorous cry of + joy, and with a bound he was in front of the plate-glass which separated + the saloon from the conservatory, in which he had first seen Mdlle. de + Cardoville. By a singular power of remembrance, or marvellous + hallucination of a mind possessed by a fixed idea, Djalma had often seen, + or fancied he saw, the adored semblance of Adrienne appear to him through + this sheet of crystal. The illusion had been so complete, that, with his + eyes ardently fixed on the vision he invoked, he had been able, with the + aid of a pencil dipped in carmine, to trace with astonishing exactness, + the profile of the ideal countenance which the delirium of his imagination + had presented to his view.(42) It was before these delicate lines of + bright carmine that Djalma now stood in deep contemplation, after perusing + and reperusing, and raising twenty times to his lips, the letter he had + received the night before from the hands of Dupont. Djalma was not alone. + Faringhea watched all the movements of the prince, with a subtle, + attentive, and gloomy aspect. Standing respectfully in a corner of the + saloon, the half-caste appeared to be occupied in unfolding and spreading + out Djalma’s sash, light, silky Indian web, the brown ground of + which was almost entirely concealed by the exquisite gold and silver + embroidery with which it was overlaid. + </p> + <p> + The countenance of the half-caste wore a dark and gloomy expression. He + could not deceive himself. The letter from Mdlle. de Cardoville, delivered + by Dupont to Djalma, must have been the cause of the delight he now + experienced, for, without doubt, he knew himself beloved. In that event, + his obstinate silence towards Faringhea, ever since the latter had entered + the saloon, greatly alarmed the half-caste, who could not tell what + interpretation to put upon it. The night before, after parting with + Dupont, he had hastened, in a state of anxiety easily understood, to look + for the prince, in the hope of ascertaining the effect produced by Mdlle. + de Cardoville’s letter. But he found the parlor door closed, and + when he knocked, he received no answer from within. Then, though the night + was far advanced, he had dispatched a note to Rodin, in which he informed + him of Dupont’s visit and its probable intention. Djalma had indeed + passed the night in a tumult of happiness and hope, and a fever of + impatience quite impossible to describe. Repairing to his bed-chamber only + towards the morning, he had taken a few moments of repose, and had then + dressed himself without assistance. + </p> + <p> + Many times, but in vain, the half-caste had discreetly knocked at the door + of Djalma’s apartment. It was only in the early part of the + afternoon that the prince had rung the bell to order his carriage to be + ready by half-past two. Faringhea having presented himself, the prince had + given him the order without looking at him, as he might have done to any + other of his servants. Was this suspicion, aversion, or mere absence of + mind on the part of Djalma? Such were the questions which the half caste + put to himself with growing anguish; for the designs of which he was the + most active and immediate instrument might all be ruined by the least + suspicion in the prince. + </p> + <p> + “Oh! the hours—the hours—how slow they are!” cried + the young Indian, suddenly, in a low and trembling voice. + </p> + <p> + “The day before yesterday, my lord, you said the hours were very + long,” observed Faringhea, as he drew near Djalma in order to + attract his attention. Seeing that he did not succeed in this he advanced + a few steps nearer, and resumed: “Your joy seems very great, my + lord; tell the cause of it to your poor and faithful servant, that he also + may rejoice with you.” + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:65%;"> + <img src="images/30215m.jpg" alt="30215m” width=" /><br /> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/30215.jpg"><i>Original</i></a> + </h5> + <p> + If he heard the words, Djalma did not pay any attention to them. He made + no answer, and his large black eyes gazed upon vacancy. He seemed to smile + admiringly upon some enchanting vision, and he folded his two hands upon + his bosom, in the attitude which his countrymen assume at the hour of + prayer. After some instants of contemplation, he said: “What o’clock + is it?”—but he asked this question of himself, rather than of + any third person. + </p> + <p> + “It will soon be two o’clock, my lord,” said Faringhea. + </p> + <p> + Having heard this answer, Djalma seated himself, and hid his face in his + hands, as if completely absorbed in some ineffable meditation. Urged on by + his growing anxiety, and wishing at any cost to attract the attention of + Djalma, Faringhea approached still nearer to him, and, almost certain of + the effect of the words he was about to utter, said to him in a slow and + emphatic voice: “My lord, I am sure that you owe the happiness which + now transports you to Mdlle. de Cardoville.” + </p> + <p> + Hardly had this name been pronounced, than Djalma started from his chair, + looked the half-breed full in the face, and exclaimed, as if only just + aware of his presence, “Faringhea! you here!—what is the + matter?” + </p> + <p> + “Your faithful servant shares in your joy, my lord.” + </p> + <p> + “What joy?” + </p> + <p> + “That which the letter of Mdlle. de Cardoville has occasioned, my + lord.” + </p> + <p> + Djalma returned no answer, but his eye shone with so much serene + happiness, that the half-caste recovered from his apprehensions. No cloud + of doubt or suspicion obscured the radiant features of the prince. After a + few moments of silence, Djalma fixed upon the half-caste a look + half-veiled with a tear of joy, and said to him, with the expression of + one whose heart overflows with love and happiness: “Oh! such delight + is good—great—like heaven!—for it is heaven which—” + </p> + <p> + “You deserve this happiness, my lord, after so many sufferings.” + </p> + <p> + “What sufferings?—Oh! yes. I formerly suffered at Java; but + that was years ago.” + </p> + <p> + “My lord, this great good fortune does not astonish me. What have I + always told you? Do not despair; feign a violent passion for some other + woman, and then this proud young lady—” + </p> + <p> + At these words Djalma looked at the half-caste with so piercing a glance, + that the latter stopped short; but the prince said to him with + affectionate goodness, “Go on! I listen.” + </p> + <p> + Then, leaning his chin upon his hand, and his elbow on his knee, he gazed + so intently on Faringhea, and yet with such unutterable mildness, that + even that iron soul was touched for a moment with a slight feeling of + remorse. + </p> + <p> + “I was saying, my lord,” he resumed, “that by following + the counsels of your faithful slave, who persuaded you to feign a + passionate love for another woman, you have brought the proud Mdlle. de + Cardoville to come to you. Did I not tell you it would be so?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, you did tell me so,” answered Djalma, still maintaining + the same position, and examining the half-caste with the same fixed and + mild attention. + </p> + <p> + The surprise of Faringhea increased; generally, the prince, without + treating him with the least harshness, preserved the somewhat distant and + imperious manners of their common country, and he had never before spoken + to him with such extreme mildness. Knowing all the evil he had done the + prince, and suspicious as the wicked must ever be, the half-caste thought + for a moment, that his master’s apparent kindness might conceal a + snare. He continued, therefore, with less assurance, “Believe me, my + lord, this day, if you do but know how to profit by your advantages, will + console you for all your troubles, which have indeed been great—for + only yesterday, though you were generous enough to forget it, only + yesterday you suffered cruelly—but you were not alone in your + sufferings. This proud young lady suffered also!” + </p> + <p> + “Do you think so?” said Djalma. + </p> + <p> + “Oh! it is quite sure, my lord. What must she not have felt, when + she saw you at the theatre with another woman!—If she loved you only + a little, she must have been deeply wounded in her self-esteem; if she + loved you with passion, she must have been struck to the heart. At length, + you see, wearied out with suffering, she has come to you.” + </p> + <p> + “So that, any way, she must have suffered—and that does not + move your pity?” said Djalma, in a constrained, but still very mild + voice. + </p> + <p> + “Before thinking of others, my lord, I think of your distresses; and + they touch me too nearly to leave me any pity for other woes,” added + Faringhea hypocritically, so greatly had the influence of Rodin already + modified the character of the Phansegar. + </p> + <p> + “It is strange!” said Djalma, speaking to himself, as he + viewed the half caste with a glance still kind but piercing. + </p> + <p> + “What is strange, my lord?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing. But tell me, since your advice has hitherto prospered so + well, what think you of the future?” + </p> + <p> + “Of the future, my lord?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; in an hour I shall be with Mdlle. de Cardoville.” + </p> + <p> + “That is a serious matter, my lord. The whole future will depend + upon this interview.” + </p> + <p> + “That is what I was just thinking.” + </p> + <p> + “Believe me, my lord, women never love any so well, as the bold man + who spares them the embarrassment of a refusal.” + </p> + <p> + “Explain more fully.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, my lord, they despise the timid and languishing lover, who + asks humbly for what he might take by force.” + </p> + <p> + “But to-day I shall meet Mdlle. de Cardoville for the first time.” + </p> + <p> + “You have met her a thousand times in your dreams, my lord; and + depend upon it, she has seen you also in her dreams, since she loves you. + Every one of your amorous thoughts has found an echo in her heart. All + your ardent adorations have been responded to by her. Love has not two + languages, and, without meeting, you have said all that you had to say to + each other. Now, it is for you to act as her master, and she will be yours + entirely.” + </p> + <p> + “It is strange—very strange!” said Djalma, a second + time, without removing his eyes from Faringhea’s face. + </p> + <p> + Mistaking the sense which the prince attached to these words, the half + caste resumed: “Believe me, my lord, however strange it may appear, + this is the wisest course. Remember the past. Was it by playing the part + of a timid lover that you have brought to your feet this proud young lady, + my lord? No, it was by pretending to despise her, in favor of another + woman. Therefore, let us have no weakness. The lion does not woo like the + poor turtle-dove. What cares the sultan of the desert for a few plaintive + howls from the lioness, who is more pleased than angry at his rude and + wild caresses? Soon submissive, fearful and happy, she follows in the + track of her master. Believe me, my lord—try everything—dare + everything—and to-day you will become the adored sultan of this + young lady, whose beauty all Paris admires.” + </p> + <p> + After some minutes’ silence, Djalma, shaking his head with an + expression of tender pity, said to the half-caste, in his mild, sonorous + voice: “Why betray me thus? Why advise me thus wickedly to use + violence, terror, and surprise, towards an angel of purity, whom I respect + as my mother? Is it not enough for you to have been so long devoted to my + enemies, whose hatred has followed me from Java?” + </p> + <p> + Had Djalma sprung upon the half-caste with bloodshot eye, menacing brow, + and lifted poniard, the latter would have been less surprised, and perhaps + less frightened, than when he heard the prince speak of his treachery in + this tone of mild reproach. + </p> + <p> + He drew back hastily, as if about to stand on his guard. But Djalma + resumed, with the same gentleness, “Fear nothing. Yesterday I should + have killed you! But to-day happy love renders me too just, too merciful + for that. I pity you, without any feeling of bitterness—for you must + have been very unhappy, or you could not have become so wicked.” + </p> + <p> + “My lord!” said the half-caste, with growing amazement. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, you must have suffered much, and met with little mercy, poor + creature, to have become so merciless, in your hate, and proof against the + sight of a happiness like mine. When I listened to you just now, and saw + the sad perseverance of your hatred, I felt the deepest commiseration for + you.” + </p> + <p> + “I do not know, my lord—but—” stammered the + half-caste, and was unable to find words to proceed. + </p> + <p> + “Come, now—what harm have I ever done you?” + </p> + <p> + “None, my lord,” answered Faringhea. + </p> + <p> + “Then why do you hate me thus? why pursue me with so much animosity? + Was it not enough to give me the perfidious counsel to feign a shameful + love for the young girl that was brought hither, and who quitted the house + disgusted at the miserable part she was to play?” + </p> + <p> + “Your feigned love for that young girl, my lord,” replied + Faringhea, gradually recovering his presence of mind, “conquered the + coldness of—” + </p> + <p> + “Do not say that,” resumed the prince, interrupting him with + the same mildness. “If I enjoy this happiness, which makes me + compassionate towards you, and raises me above myself, it is because Mdlle + de Cardoville now knows that I have never for a moment ceased to love her + as she ought to be loved, with adoration and reverence. It was your + intention to have parted us forever, and you had nearly succeeded.” + </p> + <p> + “If you think this of me, my lord, you must look upon me as your + most mortal enemy.” + </p> + <p> + “Fear nothing, I tell you. I have no right to blame you. In the + madness of my grief, I listened to you and followed your advice. I was not + only your dupe, but your accomplice. Only confess that, when you saw me at + your mercy, dejected, crushed, despairing, it was cruel in you to advise + the course that might have been most fatal to me.” + </p> + <p> + “The ardor of my zeal may have deceived me, my lord.” + </p> + <p> + “I am willing to believe it. And yet again to-day there were the + same evil counsels. You had no more pity for my happiness than for my + sorrow. The rapture of my heart inspires you with only one desire—that + of changing this rapture into despair.” + </p> + <p> + “I, my lord!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, you. It was your intention to ruin me—to dishonor me + forever in the eyes of Mdlle. de Cardoville. Now, tell me—why this + furious hate? what have I done to you?” + </p> + <p> + “You misjudge me, my lord—and—” + </p> + <p> + “Listen to me. I do not wish you to be any longer wicked and + treacherous. I wish to make you good. In our country, they charm serpents, + and tame the wildest tigers. You are a man, with a mind to reason, a heart + to love, and I will tame you too by gentleness. This day has bestowed on + me divine happiness; you shall have good cause to bless this day. What can + I do for you? what would you have—gold? You shall have it. Do you + desire more than gold? Do you desire a friend, to console you for the + sorrows that made you wicked, and to teach you to be good? Though a king’s + son, I will be that friend—in spite of the evil—ay, because of + the evil you have done me. Yes; I will be your sincere friend, and it + shall be my delight to say to myself: ‘The day on which I learned + that my angel loved me, my happiness was great indeed—for, in the + morning, I had an implacable enemy, and, ere night, his hatred was changed + to friendship.’ Believe me, Faringhea, misery makes crime, but + happiness produces virtue. Be happy!” + </p> + <p> + At this moment the clock struck two. The prince started. It was time to go + on his visit to Adrienne. The handsome countenance of Djalma, doubly + embellished by the mild, ineffable expression with which it had been + animated whilst he was talking to the half-caste, now seemed illumined + with almost divine radiance. + </p> + <p> + Approaching Faringhea, he extended his hand with the utmost, grace and + courtesy, saying to him, “Your hand!” + </p> + <p> + The half-caste, whose brow was bathed with a cold sweat, whose countenance + was pale and agitated, seemed to hesitate for an instant; then, overawed, + conquered, fascinated, he offered his trembling hand to the prince, who + pressed it, and said to him, in their country’s fashion, “You + have laid your hand honestly in a friend’s; this hand shall never be + closed against you. Faringhea, farewell! I now feel myself more worthy to + kneel before my angel.” + </p> + <p> + And Djalma went out, on his way to the appointment with Adrienne. In spite + of his ferocity, in spite of the pitiless hate he bore to the whole human + race, the dark sectary of Bowanee was staggered by the noble and clement + words of Djalma, and said to himself, with terror, “I have taken his + hand. He is now sacred for me.” + </p> + <p> + Then, after a moment’s silence, a thought occurred to him, and he + exclaimed, “Yes—but he will not be sacred for him who, + according to the answer of last night, waits for him at the door of the + house.” + </p> + <p> + So saying, the half-caste hastened into the next room, which looked upon + the street, and, raising a corner of the curtain, muttered anxiously to + himself, “The carriage moves off—the man approaches. + Perdition! it is gone and I see no more.” + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:65%;"> + <img src="images/30221m.jpg" alt="30221m” width=" /><br /> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/30221.jpg"><i>Original</i></a> + </h5> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0145" id="link2HCH0145"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XL. ANXIETY. + </h2> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">B</span>y a singular + coincidence of ideas, Adrienne, like Djalma, had wished to be dressed + exactly in the same costume as at their interview in the house in the Rue + Blanche. For the site of this solemn meeting, so important to her future + happiness, Adrienne had chosen, with habitual tact, the grand drawing-room + of Cardoville House, in which hung many family portraits. The most + apparent were those of her father and mother. The room was large and + lofty, and furnished, like those which preceded it, with all the imposing + splendor of the age of Louis XIV. The ceiling, painted by Lebrun, to + represent the Triumph of Apollo, displayed his bold designing and vigorous + coloring, in the centre of a wide cornice, magnificently carved and gilt, + and supported at its angles by four large gilt figures, representing the + Seasons. Huge panels, covered with crimson damask, and set in frames, + served as the background to the family portraits which adorned this + apartment. It is easier to conceive than describe the thousand conflicting + emotions which agitated the bosom of Mdlle. de Cardoville as the moment + approached for her interview with Djalma. Their meeting had been hitherto + prevented by so many painful obstacles, and Adrienne was so well aware of + the vigilant and active perfidy of her enemies, that even now she doubted + of her happiness. Every instant, in spite of herself, her eyes wandered to + the clock. A few minutes more, and the hour of the appointment would + strike. It struck at last. Every reverberation was echoed from the depth + of Adrienne’s heart. She considered that Djalma’s modest + reserve had, doubtless, prevented his coming before the moment fixed by + herself. Far from blaming this discretion, she fully appreciated it. But, + from that moment, at the least noise in the adjoining apartments, she held + her breath and listened with the anxiety of expectation. + </p> + <p> + For the first few minutes which followed the hour at which she expected + Djalma, Mdlle. de Cardoville felt no serious apprehension, and calmed her + impatience by the notion (which appears childish enough to those who have + never known the feverish agitation of waiting for a happy meeting), that + perhaps the clocks in the Rue Blanche might vary a little from those in + the Rue d’Anjou. But when this supposed variation, conceivable + enough in itself, could no longer explain a delay of a quarter of an hour, + of twenty minutes, of more, Adrienne felt her anxiety gradually increase. + Two or three times the young girl rose, with palpitating heart, and went + on tip-toe to listen at the door of the saloon. She heard nothing. The + clock struck half-past three. + </p> + <p> + Unable to suppress her growing terror, and clinging to a last hope, + Adrienne returned towards the fireplace and rang the bell. After which she + endeavored to compose her features, so as to betray no outward sign of + emotion. In a few seconds, a gray-haired footman, dressed in black, opened + the door, and waited in respectful silence for the orders of his mistress. + The latter said to him, in a calm voice, “Andrew, request Hebe to + give you the smelling bottle that I left on the chimney-piece in my room, + and bring it me here.” Andrew bowed; but just as he was about to + withdraw to execute Adrienne’s orders, which was only a pretext to + enable her to ask a question without appearing to attach much importance + to it in her servant’s eyes, already informed of the expected visit + of the prince, Mdlle. de Cardoville added, with an air of indifference. + “Pray, is that clock right?” + </p> + <p> + Andrew drew out his watch, and replied as he cast his eyes upon it, + “Yes, mademoiselle. I set my watch by the Tuileries. It is more than + half past three.” + </p> + <p> + “Very well—thank you!” said Adrienne kindly. + </p> + <p> + Andrew again bowed; but, before going out, he said to Adrienne, “I + forgot to tell you, lady, that Marshal Simon called about an hour ago; + but, as you were only to be at home to Prince Djalma, we told him that you + received no company.” + </p> + <p> + “Very well,” said Adrienne. With another low bow, Andrew + quitted the room, and all returned to silence. + </p> + <p> + For the precise reason that, up to the last minute of the hour previous to + the time fixed for her interview with Djalma, the hopes of Adrienne had + not been disturbed by the slightest shadow of doubt, the disappointment + she now felt was the more dreadful. Casting a desponding look at one of + the portraits placed above her, she murmured, with a plaintive and + despairing accent, “Oh, mother!” + </p> + <p> + Hardly had Mdlle. de Cardoville uttered the words than the windows were + slightly shaken by a carriage rolling into the courtyard. The young lady + started, and was unable to repress a low cry of joy. Her heart bounded at + the thought of meeting Djalma, for this time she felt that he was really + come. She was quite as certain of it as if she had seen him. She resumed + her seat and brushed away a tear suspended from her long eyelashes. Her + hand trembled like a leaf. The sound of several doors opening and shutting + proved that the young lady was right in her conjecture. The gilded panels + of the drawing-room door soon turned upon their hinges, and the prince + appeared. + </p> + <p> + While a second footman ushered in Djalma, Andrew placed on a gilded table, + within reach of his mistress, a little silver salver, on which stood the + crystal smelling-bottle. Then he withdrew, and the door of the room was + closed. The prince and Mdlle. de Cardoville were left alone together. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0146" id="link2HCH0146"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XLI. ADRIENNE AND DJALMA. + </h2> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>he prince had + slowly approached Mdlle. de Cardoville. Notwithstanding the impetuosity of + the Oriental’s passions, his uncertain and timid step—timid, + yet graceful—betrayed his profound emotion. He did not venture to + lift his eyes to Adrienne’s face; he had suddenly become very pale, + and his finely formed hands, folded over his bosom in the attitude of + adoration, trembled violently. With head bent down, he remained standing + at a little distance from Adrienne. This embarrassment, ridiculous in any + other person, appeared touching in this prince of twenty years of age, + endowed with an almost fabulous intrepidity, and of so heroic and generous + a character, that no traveller could speak of the son of Kadja sing + without a tribute of admiration and respect. Sweet emotion! chaste + reserve! doubly interesting if we consider that the burning passions of + this youth were all the more inflammable, because they had hitherto been + held in check. + </p> + <p> + No less embarrassed than her cousin, Adrienne de Cardoville remained + seated. Like Djalma, she cast down her eyes; but the burning blush on her + cheeks, the quick heaving of her virgin bosom, revealed an emotion that + she did not even attempt to hide. Notwithstanding the powers of her mind, + by turns gay, graceful, and witty—notwithstanding the decision of + her proud and independent character, and her complete acquaintance with + the manners of the world—Adrienne shared Djalma’s simple and + enchanting awkwardness, and partook of that kind of temporary weakness, + beneath which these two pure, ardent, and loving beings appeared sinking—as + if unable to support the boiling agitation of the senses, combined with + the intoxicating excitement of the heart. And yet their eyes had not met. + Each seemed to fear the first electric shock of the other’s glance—that + invincible attraction of two impassioned beings—that sacred fire, + which suddenly kindles the blood, and lifts two mortals from earth to + heaven; for it is to approach the Divinity to give one’s self up + with religious fervor to the most noble and irresistible sentiment that He + has implanted within us—the only sentiment that, in His adorable + wisdom, the Dispenser of all good has vouchsafed to sanctify, by endowing + it with a spark of His own creative energy. + </p> + <p> + Djalma was the first to raise his eyes. They were moist and sparkling. The + excitement of passionate love, the burning ardor of his age, so long + repressed, the intense admiration in which he held ideal beauty, were all + expressed in his look, mingled with respectful timidity, and gave to the + countenance of this youth an undefinable, irresistible character. Yes, + irresistible!—for, when Adrienne encountered his glance, she + trembled in every limb, and felt herself attracted by a magnetic power. + Already, her eyes were heavy with a kind of intoxicating languor, when, by + a great effort of will and dignity, she succeeded in overcoming this + delicious confusion, rose from her chair, and said to Djalma in a + trembling voice: “Prince, I am happy to receive you here.” + Then, pointing to one of the portraits suspended above her, she added, as + if introducing him to a living person: “Prince—my mother!” + </p> + <p> + With an instinct of rare delicacy, Adrienne had thus summoned her mother + to be present at her interview with Djalma. It seemed a security for + herself and the prince, against the seductions of a first interview—which + was likely to be all the more perilous, that they both knew themselves + madly loved that they both were free, and had only to answer to Providence + for the treasures of happiness and enjoyment with which He had so + magnificently endowed them. The prince understood Adrienne’s + thoughts; so that, when the young lady pointed to the portrait, Djalma, by + a spontaneous movement full of grace and simplicity, knelt down before the + picture, and said to it in a gentle, but manly voice: “I will love + and revere you as my mother. And, in thought, my mother too shall be + present, and stand like you, beside your child!” + </p> + <p> + No better answer could have been given to the feeling which induced Mdlle. + de Cardoville to place herself, as it were, under the protection of her + mother. From that moment, confident in Djalma, confident in herself, the + young lady felt more at her ease, and the delicious sense of happiness + replaced those exciting emotions, which had at first so violently agitated + her. + </p> + <p> + Then, seating herself once more, she said to Djalma, as she pointed to the + opposite chair: “Pray take a seat, my dear cousin; and allow me to + call you so, for there is too much ceremony in the word prince; and do you + call me cousin also, for I find other names too grave. Having settled this + point, we can talk together like old friends.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes cousin,” answered Djalma, blushing. + </p> + <p> + “And, as frankness is proper between friends,” resumed + Adrienne, “I have first to make you a reproach,” she added, + with a half-smile. + </p> + <p> + The prince had remained standing, with his arm resting on the chimney + piece, in an attitude full of grace and respect. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, cousin,” continued Adrienne, “a reproach, that you + will perhaps forgive me for making. I had expected you a little sooner.” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps, cousin, you may blame me for having come so soon.” + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean?” + </p> + <p> + “At the moment when I left home, a man, whom I did not know, + approached my carriage, and said to me, with such an air of sincerity that + I believed him: ‘You are able to save the life of a person who has + been a second father to you. Marshal Simon is in great danger, and, to + rescue him, you must follow me on the instant—‘” + </p> + <p> + “It was a snare,” cried Adrienne, hastily. “Marshal + Simon was here, scarcely an hour ago.” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed!” exclaimed Djalma, joyfully, and as if he had been + relieved from a great weight. “Then there will be nothing to sadden + this happy day!” + </p> + <p> + “But, cousin,” resumed Adrienne, “how came you not to + suspect this emissary?” + </p> + <p> + “Some words, which afterwards escaped from him, inspired me with + doubts,” answered Djalma: “but at first I followed him, + fearing the marshal might be in danger—for I know that he also has + enemies.” + </p> + <p> + “Now that I reflect on it, you were quite right, cousin, for some + new plot against the marshal was probable enough; and the least doubt was + enough to induce you to go to him.” + </p> + <p> + “I did so—even though you were waiting for me.” + </p> + <p> + “It was a generous sacrifice; and my esteem for you is increased by + it, if it could be increased,” said Adrienne, with emotion. “But + what became of this man?” + </p> + <p> + “At my desire, he got into the carriage with me. Anxious about the + marshal, and in despair at seeing the time wasted, that I was to have + passed with you, cousin, I pressed him with all sorts of questions. + Several times, he replied to me with embarrassment, and then the idea + struck me that the whole might be a snare. Remembering all that they had + already attempted, to ruin me in your opinion, I immediately changed my + course. The vexation of the man who accompanied me then because so + visible, that I ought to have had no doubt upon the subject. Still, when I + thought of Marshal Simon, I felt a kind of vague remorse, which you, + cousin, have now happily set at rest.” + </p> + <p> + “Those people are implacable!” said Adrienne; “but our + happiness will be stronger than their hate.” + </p> + <p> + After a moment’s silence, she resumed, with her habitual frankness: + “My dear cousin, it is impossible for me to conceal what I have at + heart. Let us talk for a few seconds of the past, which was made so + painful to us, and then we will forget it forever, like an evil dream.” + </p> + <p> + “I will answer you sincerely, at the risk of injuring myself,” + said the prince. + </p> + <p> + “How could you make up your mind to exhibit yourself in public with—?” + </p> + <p> + “With that young girl?” interrupted Djalma. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, cousin,” replied Mdlle. de Cardoville, and she waited + for Djalma’s answer with anxious curiosity. + </p> + <p> + “A stranger to the customs of this country,” said Djalma, + without any embarrassment, for he spoke the truth, “with a mind + weakened with despair, and misled by the fatal counsels of a man devoted + to my enemies, I believed, even as I was told, that, by displaying before + you the semblance of another love, I should excite your jealousy, and thus—” + </p> + <p> + “Enough, cousin; I understand it all,” said Adrienne hastily, + interrupting Djalma in her turn, that she might spare him a painful + confession. “I too must have been blinded by despair, not to have + seen through this wicked plot, especially after your rash and intrepid + action. To risk death for the sake of my bouquet!” added Adrienne, + shuddering at the mere remembrance. “But one last question,” + she resumed, “though I am already sure of your answer. Did you + receive a letter that I wrote to you, on the morning of the day in which I + saw you at the theatre?” + </p> + <p> + Djalma made no reply. A dark cloud passed over his fine countenance, and, + for a second, his features assumed so menacing an expression, that + Adrienne was terrified at the effect produced by her words. But this + violent agitation soon passed away, and Djalma’s brow became once + more calm and serene. + </p> + <p> + “I have been more merciful that I thought,” said the prince to + Adrienne, who looked at him with astonishment. “I wished to come + hither worthy of you, my cousin. I pardoned the man who, to serve my + enemies, had given me all those fatal counsels. The same person, I am + sure, must have intercepted your letter. Just now, at the memory of the + evils he thus caused me, I, for a moment, regretted my clemency. But then, + again, I thought of your letter of yesterday—and my anger is all + gone.” + </p> + <p> + “Then the sad time of fear and suspicion is over—suspicion, + that made me doubt of your sentiments, and you of mine. Oh, yes! far + removed from us be that fatal past!” cried Adrienne de Cardoville, + with deep joy.. + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:65%;"> + <img src="images/30229m.jpg" alt="30229m” width=" /><br /> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/30229.jpg"><i>Original</i></a> + </h5> + <p> + Then, as if she had relieved her heart from the last thought of sadness, + she continued: “The future is all your own—the radiant future, + without cloud or obstacle, pure in the immensity of its horizon, and + extending beyond the reach of sight!” + </p> + <p> + It is impossible to describe the tone of enthusiastic hope which + accompanied these words. But suddenly Adrienne’s features assumed an + expression of touching melancholy, and she added, in a voice of profound + emotion: “And yet—at this hour—so many unfortunate + creatures suffer pain!” + </p> + <p> + This simple touch of pity for the misfortunes of others, at the moment + when the noble maiden herself attained to the highest point of happiness, + had such an effect on Djalma, that involuntarily he fell on his knees + before Adrienne, clasped his hands together, and turned towards her his + fine countenance, with an almost daring expression. Then, hiding his face + in his hands, he bowed his head without speaking a single word. There was + a moment of deep silence. Adrienne was the first to break it, as she saw a + tear steal through the slender fingers of the prince. + </p> + <p> + “My friend! what is the matter?” she exclaimed, as with a + movement rapid as thought, she stooped forward, and taking hold of Djalma’s + hands, drew them from before his face. That face was bathed in tears. + </p> + <p> + “You weep!” cried Mdlle. de Cardoville, so much agitated that + she kept the hands of Djalma in her own; and, unable to dry his tears, the + young Hindoo allowed them to flow like so many drops of crystal over the + pale gold of his cheeks. + </p> + <p> + “There is not in this wide world a happiness like to mine!” + said the prince, in his soft, melodious voice, and with a kind of + exhaustion: “therefore do I feel great sadness, and so it should be. + You give me heaven—and were I to give you the whole earth, it would + be but a poor return. Alas! what can man do for a divinity, but humbly + bless and adore? He can never hope to return the gifts bestowed: and this + makes him suffer—not in his pride—but in his heart!” + </p> + <p> + Djalma did not exaggerate. He said what he really felt: and the rather + hyperbolical form, familiar to Oriental nations, could alone express his + thought. The tone of his regret was so sincere, his humility so gentle and + full of simplicity, that Adrienne, also moved to tears, answered him with + an effusion of serious tenderness, “My friend, we are both at the + supreme point of happiness. Our future felicity appears to have no limits, + and yet, though derived from different sources, sad reflections have come + to both of us. It is, you see, that there are some sorts of happiness, + which make you dizzy with their own immensity. For a moment, the heart, + the mind, the soul, are incapable of containing so much bliss; it + overflows and drowns us. Thus the flowers sometimes hang their heads, + oppressed by the too ardent rays of the sun, which is yet their love and + life. Oh, my friend! this sadness may be great, but it also sweet!” + </p> + <p> + As she uttered these words, the voice of Adrienne grew fainter and + fainter, and her head bowed lower, as if she were indeed sinking beneath + the weight of her happiness. Djalma had remained kneeling before her, his + hands in hers—so that as she thus bent forward, her ivory forehead + and golden hair touched the amber-colored brow and ebon curls of Djalma. + And the sweet, silent tears of the two young lovers flowed together, and + mingled as they fell on their clasped hands. + </p> + <p> + Whilst this scene was passing in Cardoville House, Agricola had gone to + the Rue de Vaugirard, to deliver a letter from Adrienne to M. Hardy. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0147" id="link2HCH0147"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XLII. “THE IMITATION.” + </h2> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">A</span>s we have already + said, M. Hardy occupied a pavilion in the “Retreat” annexed to + the house in the Rue de Vaugirard, inhabited by a goodly number of the + reverend fathers of the Company of Jesus. Nothing could be calmer and more + silent than this dwelling. Every one spoke in whispers, and the servants + themselves had something oily in their words, something sanctified in + their very walk. + </p> + <p> + Like all that is subject to the chilling and destructive influences of + these men, this mournfully quiet house was entirely wanting in life and + animation. The boarders passed an existence of wearisome and icy monotony, + only broken by the use of certain devotional exercises; and thus, in + accordance with the selfish calculation of the reverend fathers, the mind, + deprived of all nourishment and all external support, soon began to droop + and pine away in solitude. The heart seemed to beat more slowly, the soul + was benumbed, the character weakened; at last, all freewill, all power of + discrimination, was extinguished, and the boarders, submitting to the same + process of self-annihilation as the novices of the Company, became, like + them, mere “corpses” in the hands of the brotherhood. + </p> + <p> + The object of these manoeuvres was clear and simple. They secured the + means of obtaining all kinds of donations, the constant aim of the + skillful policy and merciless cupidity of these priests. By the aid of + enormous sums, of which they thus become the possessors or the trustees, + they follow out and obtain the success of their projects, even though + murder, incendiarism, revolt, and all the horrors of civil war, excited by + and through them, should drench in blood the lands over which they seek to + extend their dark dominion. + </p> + <p> + Such, then, was the asylum of peace and innocence in which Francois Hardy + had taken refuge. He occupied the ground-floor of a summer-house, which + opened upon a portion of the garden. His apartments had been judiciously + chosen, for we know with what profound and diabolical craft the reverend + fathers avail themselves of material influences, to make a deep impression + upon the minds they are moulding to their purpose. Imagine a prospect + bounded by a high wall, of a blackish gray, half-covered with ivy, the + plant peculiar to ruins. A dark avenue of old yew-trees, so fit to shade + the grave with their sepulchral verdure, extended from this wall to a + little semicircle, in front of the apartment generally occupied by M. + Hardy. Two or three mounds of earth, bordered with box, symmetrically cut, + completed the charms of this garden, which in every respect resembled a + cemetery. + </p> + <p> + It was about two o’clock in the afternoon. Though the April sun + shone brightly, its rays, intercepted by the high wall of which we have + spoken, could not penetrate into that portion of the garden, obscure, + damp, and cold as a cavern, which communicated with M. Hardy’s + apartment. The room was furnished with a perfect sense of the comfortable. + A soft carpet covered the floor; thick curtains of dark green baize, the + same color as the walls, sheltered an excellent bed, and hung in folds + about the glass door, which opened on the garden. Some pieces of mahogany + furniture, plain, but very clean and bright, stood round the room. Above + the secretary, placed just in front of the bed, was a large ivory + crucifix, upon a black velvet ground. The chimney-piece was adorned with a + clock, in an ebony case, with ivory ornaments representing all sorts of + gloomy emblems, such as hour-glasses, scythes, death’s-heads, etc. + Now imagine this scene in twilight, with its solitary and mournful + silence, only broken at the hour of prayer by the lugubrious sound of the + bells of the neighboring chapel, and you will recognize the infernal + skill, with which these dangerous priests know how to turn to account + every external object, when they wish to influence the mind of those they + are anxious to gain over. + </p> + <p> + And this was not all. After appealing to the senses, it was necessary to + address themselves to the intellect—and this was the method adopted + by the reverend fathers. A single book—but one—was left, as if + by chance, within reach. This book was Thomas a Kempis’ “Imitation.” + But as it might happen that M. Hardy would not have the courage or the + desire to read this book, thoughts and reflections borrowed from its + merciless pages, and written in very large characters, were suspended in + black frames close to the bed, or at other parts within sight, so that, + involuntarily, in the sad leisure of his inactive dejection, the dweller’s + eyes were almost necessarily attracted by them. To that fatal circle of + despairing thoughts they confined the already weakened mind of this + unfortunate man, so long a prey to the most acute sorrow. What he read + mechanically, every instant of the day and night, whenever the blessed + sleep fled from his eyes inflamed with tears, was not enough merely to + plunge the soul of the victim into incurable despair, but also to reduce + him to the corpse-like obedience required by the Society of Jesus. In that + awful book may be found a thousand terrors to operate on weak minds, a + thousand slavish maxims to chain and degrade the pusillanimous soul. + </p> + <p> + And now imagine M. Hardy carried wounded into this house; while his heart, + torn by bitter grief and the sense of horrible treachery, bled even faster + than his external injuries. Attended with the utmost care, and thanks to + the acknowledged skill of Dr. Baleinier, M. Hardy soon recovered from the + hurts he had received when he threw himself into the embers of his burning + factory. Yet, in order to favor the projects of the reverend fathers, a + drug, harmless enough in its effects, but destined to act for a time upon + the mind of the patient, and often employed for that purpose in similar + important cases by the pious doctor, was administered to Hardy, and had + kept him pretty long in a state of mental torpor. To a soul agonized by + cruel deceptions, it appears an inestimable benefit to be plunged into + that kind of torpor, which at least prevents one from dwelling upon the + past. + </p> + <p> + Hardy resigned himself entirely to this profound apathy, and at length + came to regard it as the supreme good. Thus do unfortunate wretches, + tortured by cruel diseases, accept with gratitude the opiate which kills + them slowly, but which at least deadens the sense of pain. + </p> + <p> + In sketching the portrait of M. Hardy, we tried to give some idea of the + exquisite delicacy of his tender soul, of his painful susceptibility with + regard to anything base or wicked, and of his extreme goodness, + uprightness, and generosity. We now allude to these admirable qualities, + because we must observe, that with him, as with almost all who possess + them, they were not, and could not be, united with an energetic and + resolute character. Admirably persevering in good deeds, the influence of + this excellent man, was insinuating rather than commanding; it was not by + the bold energy and somewhat overbearing will, peculiar to other men of + great and noble heart, that Hardy had realized the prodigy of his Common + Dwelling-house; it was by affectionate persuasion, for with him mildness + took the place of force. At sight of any baseness or injustice, he did not + rouse himself, furious and threatening; but he suffered intense pain. He + did not boldly attack the criminal, but he turned away from him in pity + and sorrow. And then his loving heart, so full of feminine delicacy, had + an irresistible longing for the blessed contact of dear affections; they + alone could keep it alive. Even as a poor, frail bird dies with the cold, + when it can no longer lie close to its brethren, and receive and + communicate the sweet warmth of the maternal nest. And now this sensitive + organization, this extremely susceptible nature, receives blow after blow + from sorrows and deceptions, one of which would suffice to shake, if it + did not conquer, the firmest and most resolute character. Hardy’s + best friend has infamously betrayed him. His adored mistress has abandoned + him. + </p> + <p> + The house which he had founded for the benefit of his workmen, whom he + loved as brethren, is reduced to a heap of ashes. What then happens? All + the springs of his soul are at once broken. Too feeble to resist such + frightful attacks, too fatally deceived to seek refuge in other + affections, too much discouraged to think of laying the first stone of any + new edifice—this poor heart, isolated from every salutary influence, + finds oblivion of the world and of itself in a kind of gloomy torpor. And + if some remaining instincts of life and affection, at long intervals, + endeavored to rouse themselves within him, and if, half-opening his mind’s + eye, which he had kept closed against the present, the past, and the + future, Hardy looks around him—what does he see? Only these + sentences, so full of terrible despair: + </p> + <p> + “Thou art nothing but dust and ashes. Grief and tears art thy + portion. Believe not in any son of man. There are no such things as + friendship or ties of kindred. All human affections are false. Die in the + morning, and thou wilt be forgotten before night. Be humble—despise + thyself—and let others despise thee. Think not, reason not, live not—but + commit thy fate to the hands of a superior, who will think and reason for + thee. Weep, suffer, think upon death. Yes, death! always death—that + should be thy thought when thou thinkest—but it is better not to + think at all. Let a feeling of ceaseless woe prepare thy way to heaven. It + is only by sorrow that we are welcome to the terrible God whom we adore!” + </p> + <p> + Such were the consolations offered to this unfortunate man. Affrighted, he + again closed his eyes, and fell back into his lethargy. As for leaving + this gloomy retreat, he could not, or rather he did not desire to do so. + He had lost the power of will; and then, it must be confessed, he had + finished by getting accustomed to this house, and liked it well—they + paid him such discreet attentions, and yet left him so much alone with his + grief—there reigned all around such a death-like silence, which + harmonized closely with the silence of his heart; and that was now the + tomb of his last love, last friendship, last hope. All energy was dead + within him! Then began that slow, but inevitable transformation, so + judiciously foreseen by Rodin, who directed the whole of this machination, + even in its smallest details. At first alarmed by the dreadful maxims + which surrounded him, M. Hardy had at length accustomed himself to read + them over almost mechanically, just as the captive, in his mournful hours + of leisure, counts the nails in the door of his prison, or the bars of the + grated window. This was already a great point gained by the reverend + fathers. + </p> + <p> + And soon his weakened mind was struck with the apparent correctness of + these false and melancholy aphorisms. + </p> + <p> + Thus he read: “Do not count upon the affection of any human creature”—and + he had himself been shamefully betrayed. + </p> + <p> + “Man is born to sorrow and despair”—and he was himself + despairing. + </p> + <p> + “There is no rest save in the cessation of thought”—and + the slumber of his mind had brought some relief to his pain. + </p> + <p> + Peepholes, skillfully concealed by the hangings and in the wainscoting of + these apartments, enabled the reverend fathers at all times to see and + hear the boarders, and above all to observe their countenance and manner, + when they believed themselves to be alone. Every exclamation of grief + which escaped Hardy in his gloomy solitude, was repeated to Father d’Aigrigny + by a mysterious listener. The reverend father, following scrupulously + Rodin’s instructions, had at first visited his boarder very rarely. + We have said, that when Father d’Aigrigny wished it, he could + display an almost irresistible power of charming, and accordingly he threw + all his tact and skill into the interviews he had with Hardy, when he came + from time to time to inquire after his health. Informed of everything by + his spies, and aided by his natural sagacity, he soon saw all the use that + might be made of the physical and moral prostration of the boarder. + Certain beforehand that Hardy would not take the hint, he spoke to him + frequently of the gloom of the house, advising him affectionately to leave + it, if he felt oppressed by its monotony, or at all events to seek beyond + its walls for some pleasure and amusement. To speak of pleasure and + amusement to this unfortunate man, was in his present state to insure a + refusal, and so it of course happened. Father d’Aigrigny did not at + first try to gain the recluse’s confidence, nor did he speak to him + of sorrow; but every time he came, he appeared to take such a tender + interest in him, and showed it by a few simple and well timed words. By + degrees, these interviews, at first so rare, became more frequent and + longer. Endowed with a flow of honeyed, insinuating, and persuasive + eloquence, Father d’Aigrigny naturally took for his theme those + gloomy maxims, to which Hardy’s attention was now so often directed. + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:65%;"> + <img src="images/30237m.jpg" alt="30237m” width=" /><br /> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/30237.jpg"><i>Original</i></a> + </h5> + <p> + Supple, prudent, skillful, knowing that the hermit had hitherto professed + that generous natural religion which teaches the grateful adoration of + God, the love of humanity, the worship of what is just and good, and + which, disdaining dogmas, professes the same veneration for Marcus + Aurelius as for Confucius, for Plato as for Christ, for Moses as for + Lycurgus—Father d’Aigrigny did not at first attempt to convert + him, but began by incessantly reminding him of the abominable deceptions + practised upon him; and, instead of describing such treachery as an + exception in life—instead of trying to calm, encourage, and revive + his drooping soul—instead of exhorting Hardy to seek oblivion and + consolation in the discharge of his duties toward humanity, towards his + brethren, whom he had previously loved and succored—Father d’Aigrigny + strove to inflame the bleeding wounds of the unfortunate man, painted the + human race in the most atrocious blackness, and, by declaring all men + treacherous, ungrateful, wicked, succeeded in rendering his despair + incurable. Having attained this object, the Jesuit took another step. + Knowing Hardy’s admirable goodness of heart, and profiting by the + weakened state of his mind, he spoke to him of the consolation to be + derived by a man overwhelmed with sorrow, from the belief that every one + of his tears, instead of being unfruitful, was in fact agreeable to God, + and might aid in the salvation of souls—the belief, as the reverend + father adroitly added, that by faith alone can sorrow be made useful to + humanity, and acceptable to Divinity. + </p> + <p> + Whatever impiety, whatever atrocious Machiavelism there was in these + detestable maxims, which make of a loving-kind Deity a being delighted + with the tears of his creatures, was thus skillfully concealed from Hardy’s + eyes, whose generous instincts were still alive. Soon did this loving and + tender soul, whom unworthy priests were driving to a sort of moral + suicide, find a mournful charm in the fiction, that his sorrows would at + least be profitable to other men. It was at first only a fiction; but the + enfeebled mind which takes pleasure in such a fable, finishes by receiving + it as a reality, and by degrees will submit to the consequences. Such was + Hardy’s moral and physical state, when, by means of a servant who + had been bought over, he received from Agricola Baudoin a letter + requesting an interview. Alone, the workman could not have broken the band + of the Jesuit’s pleadings, but he was accompanied by Gabriel, whose + eloquence and reasonings were of a most convincing nature to a spirit like + Hardy’s. + </p> + <p> + It is unnecessary to point out to the reader, with what dignified reserve + Gabriel had confined himself to the most generous means of rescuing Hardy + from the deadly influence of the reverend fathers. It was repugnant to the + great soul of the young missionary, to stoop to a revelation of the odious + plots of these priests. He would only have taken this extreme course, had + his powerful and sympathetic words have failed to have any effect on Hardy’s + blindness. About a quarter of an hour had elapsed since Gabriel’s + departure, when the servant appointed to wait on this boarder of the + reverend fathers entered and delivered to him a letter. + </p> + <p> + “From whom is this?” asked Hardy. + </p> + <p> + “From a boarder in the house, sir,” answered the servant + bowing. + </p> + <p> + This man had a crafty hypocritical face; he wore his hair combed over his + forehead, spoke in a low voice, and always cast clown his eyes. Waiting + the answer, he joined his hands, and began to twiddle his thumbs. Hardy + opened the letter, and read as follows: + </p> + <p> + “SIR,—I have only just heard, by mere chance, that you also + inhabit this respectable house: a long illness, and the retirement in + which I live, will explain my ignorance of your being so near. Though we + have only met once, sir, the circumstance which led to that meeting was of + so serious a nature, that I cannot think you have forgotten it.” + </p> + <p> + Hardy stopped, and tasked his memory for an explanation, and not finding + anything to put him on the right track, he continued to read: + </p> + <p> + “This circumstance excited in me a feeling of such deep and + respectful sympathy for you, sir, that I cannot resist my anxious desire + to wait upon you, particularly as I learn, that you intend leaving this + house to day—a piece of information I have just derived from the + excellent and worthy Abbe Gabriel, one of the men I most love, esteem, and + reverence. May I venture to hope, sir, that just at the moment of quitting + our common retreat to return to the world, you will deign to receive + favorably the request, however intrusive, of a poor old man, whose life + will henceforth be passed in solitude, and who cannot therefore have any + prospect of meeting you, in that vortex of society which he has abandoned + forever. Waiting the honor of your answer, I beg you to accept, sir, the + assurance of the sentiments of high esteem with which I remain, sir, with + the deepest respect, + </p> + <p> + “Your very humble and most obedient servant, + </p> + <p> + “RODIN.” + </p> + <p> + After reading this letter and the signature of the writer, Hardy remained + for some time in deep thought, without being able to recollect the name of + Rodin, or to what serious circumstances he alluded. + </p> + <p> + After a silence of some duration, he said to the servant “M. Rodin + gave you this letter?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “And who is M. Rodin?” + </p> + <p> + “A good old gentleman, who is just recovering from a long illness, + that almost carried him off. Lately, he has been getting better, but he is + still so weak and melancholy, that it makes one sad to see him. It is a + great pity, for there is not a better and more worthy gentleman in the + house—unless it be you, sir,” added the servant, bowing with + an air of flattering respect. + </p> + <p> + “M. Rodin;” said Hardy, thoughtfully. “It is singular, + that I should not remember the name nor any circumstance connected with + it.” + </p> + <p> + “If you will give me your answer, sir,” resumed the servant, + “I will take it to M. Rodin. He is now with Father d’Aigrigny, + to whom he is bidding farewell.” + </p> + <p> + “Farewell?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir, the post-horses have just come.” + </p> + <p> + “Post-horses for whom?” asked Hardy. + </p> + <p> + “For Father d’Aigrigny, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “He is going on a journey then!” said Hardy, with some + surprise. + </p> + <p> + “Oh! he will not, I think be long absent,” said the servant, + with a confidential air, “for the reverend father takes no one with + him, and but very light luggage. No doubt, the reverend father will come + to say farewell to you, sir, before he starts. But what answer shall I + give M. Rodin?” + </p> + <p> + The letter, just received, was couched in such polite terms—it spoke + of Gabriel with so much respect—that Hardy, urged moreover by a + natural curiosity, and seeing no motive to refuse this interview before + quitting the house, said to the servant: “Please tell M. Rodin, that + if he will give himself the trouble to come to me, I shall be glad to see + him.” + </p> + <p> + “I will let him know immediately, sir,” answered the servant, + bowing as he left the room. + </p> + <p> + When alone, Hardy, while wondering who this M. Rodin could be, began to + make some slight preparations for his departure. For nothing in the world + would he have passed another night in this house; and, in order to keep up + his courage, he recalled every instant the mild, evangelical language of + Gabriel, just as the superstitious recite certain litanies, with a view of + escaping from temptation. + </p> + <p> + The servant soon returned, and said: “M. Rodin is here, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “Beg him to walk in.” + </p> + <p> + Rodin entered, clad in his long black dressing-gown, and with his old silk + cap in his hand. The servant then withdrew. The day was just closing. + Hardy rose to meet Rodin, whose features he did not at first distinguish. + But as the reverend father approached the window, Hardy looked narrowly at + him for an instant, and then uttered an exclamation, wrung from him by + surprise and painful remembrance. But, recovering himself from this first + movement, Hardy said to the Jesuit, in an agitated voice: “You here, + sir? Oh, you are right! It was indeed a very serious circumstance that + first brought us together.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, my dear sir!” said Rodin, in a kindly and unctuous tone; + “I was sure you would not have forgotten me.” + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:65%;"> + <img src="images/30245m.jpg" alt="30245m” width=" /><br /> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/30245.jpg"><i>Original</i></a> + </h5> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0148" id="link2HCH0148"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XLIII. PRAYER. + </h2> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">I</span>t will doubtless + be remembered that Rodin had gone (although a stranger to Hardy) to visit + him at his factory, and inform him of De Blessac’s shameful + treachery—a dreadful blow, which had only preceded by a few moments + a second no less horrible misfortune; for it was in the presence of Rodin + that Hardy had learned the unexpected departure of the woman he adored. + Painful to him must have been the sudden appearance of Rodin. Yes, thanks + to the salutary influence of Gabriel’s counsels, he recovered + himself by degrees, and the contraction of his features being succeeded by + a melancholy calm, he said to Rodin: “I did not indeed expect to + meet you, sir, in this house.” + </p> + <p> + “Alas, sir!” answered Rodin, with a sigh, “I did not + expect to come hither, probably to end my days beneath this roof, when I + went, without being acquainted with you, but only as one honest man should + serve another, to unveil to you a great infamy.” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed, sir, you then rendered me a true service; perhaps, in that + painful moment, I did not fully express my gratitude; for, at the same + moment in which you revealed to me the treachery of M. de Blessac—” + </p> + <p> + “You were overwhelmed by another piece of painful intelligence,” + said Rodin, interrupting M. Hardy; “I shall never forget the sudden + arrival of that poor woman, who, pale and affrighted, and without + considering my presence, came to inform you that a person who was + exceedingly dear to you had quitted Paris abruptly.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir; and, without stopping to thank you, I set out + immediately,” answered Hardy, with a mournful air. + </p> + <p> + “Do you know, sir,” said Rodin, after a moment’s + silence, “that there are sometimes very strange coincidences?” + </p> + <p> + “To what do you allude, sir?” + </p> + <p> + “While I went to inform you that you were betrayed in so infamous a + manner—I was myself—” + </p> + <p> + Rodin paused, as if unable to control his deep emotion, and his + countenance wore the expression of such overpowering grief that Hardy said + to him, with interest: “What ails you, sir?” + </p> + <p> + “Forgive me,” replied Rodin, with a bitter smile. “Thanks + to the ghostly counsels of the angelic Abbe Gabriel, I have reached a sort + of resignation. Still, there are certain memories which affect me with the + most acute pain. I told you,” resumed Rodin, in a firmer voice, + “or was going to tell you, that the very day after that on which I + informed you of the treachery practised against you, I was myself the + victim of a frightful deception. An adopted son—a poor unfortunate + child, whom I had brought up—” He paused again, drew his + trembling hand over his eyes, and added: “Pardon me, sir, for + speaking of matters which must be indifferent to you. Excuse the intrusive + sorrow of a poor, broken hearted old man!” + </p> + <p> + “I have suffered too much myself, sir, to be indifferent to any kind + of sorrow,” replied Hardy. “Besides, you are no stranger to me—for + you did me a real service—and we both agree in our veneration for + the same young priest.” + </p> + <p> + “The Abbe Gabriel!” cried Rodin, interrupting Hardy; “ah, + sir! he is my deliverer, my benefactor. If you knew all his care and + devotion, during my long illness, caused by intense grief—if you + knew the ineffable sweetness of his counsels—” + </p> + <p> + “I know them, sir,” cried Hardy; “oh, yes! I know how + salutary is the influence.” + </p> + <p> + “In his mouth, sir, the precepts of religion are full of mildness,” + resumed Rodin, with excitement. “Do they not heal and console? do + they not make us love and hope, instead of fear and tremble?” + </p> + <p> + “Alas, sir! in this very house,” said Hardy, “I have + been able to make the comparison.” + </p> + <p> + “I was happy enough,” said Rodin, “to have the angelic + Abbe Gabriel for my confessor, or, rather, my confidant.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” replied Hardy, “for he prefers confidence to + confession.” + </p> + <p> + “How well you know him!” said Rodin, in a tone of the utmost + simplicity. Then he resumed: “He is not a man but an angel. His + words would convert the most hardened sinner. Without being exactly + impious, I had myself lived in the profession of what is called Natural + Religion; but the angelic Abbe Gabriel has, by degrees, fixed my wavering + belief, given it body and soul, and, in fact, endowed me with faith.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes! he is a truly Christian priest—a priest of love and + pardon!” cried Hardy. + </p> + <p> + “What you say is perfectly true,” replied Rodin; “for I + came here almost mad with grief, thinking only of the unhappy boy who had + repaid my paternal goodness with the most monstrous ingratitude, and + sometimes I yielded to violent bursts of despair, and sometimes sank into + a state of mournful dejection, cold as the grave itself. But, suddenly, + the Abbe Gabriel appeared—and the darkness fled before the dawning + of a new day.” + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:65%;"> + <img src="images/30253m.jpg" alt="30253m” width=" /><br /> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/30253.jpg"><i>Original</i></a> + </h5> + <p> + “You were right, sir; there are strange coincidences,” said + Hardy, yielding more and more to the feeling of confidence and sympathy, + produced by the resemblance of his real position to Rodin’s + pretended one. “And to speak frankly,” he added, “I am + very glad I have seen you before quitting this house. Were I capable of + falling back into fits of cowardly weakness, your example alone would + prevent me. Since I listen to you, I feel myself stronger in the noble + path which the angelic Abbe Gabriel has opened before me, as you so well + express it.” + </p> + <p> + “The poor old man will not then regret having listened to the first + impulse of his heart, which urged him to come to you,” said Robin, + with a touching expression. “You will sometimes remember me in that + world to which you are returning?” + </p> + <p> + “Be sure of it, sir; but allow me to ask one question: You remain, + you say, in this house?” + </p> + <p> + “What would you have me do? There reigns here a calm repose, and one + is not disturbed in one’s prayers,” said Rodin, in a very + gentle tone. “You see, I have suffered so much—the conduct of + that unhappy youth was so horrible—he plunged into such shocking + excesses—that the wrath of heaven must be kindled against him. Now I + am very old, and it is only by passing the few days that are left me in + fervent prayer that I can hope to disarm the just anger of the Lord. Oh! + prayer—prayer! It was the Abbe Gabriel who revealed to me all its + power and sweetness—and therewith the formidable duties it imposes.” + </p> + <p> + “Its duties are indeed great and sacred,” answered Hardy, with + a pensive air. + </p> + <p> + “Do you remember the life of Rancey?” said Rodin, abruptly, as + he darted a peculiar glance at Hardy. + </p> + <p> + “The founder of La Trappe?” said Hardy, surprised at Rodin’s + question. “I remember hearing a very vague account, some time ago, + of the motives of his conversion.” + </p> + <p> + “There is, mark you, no more striking an example of the power of + prayer, and of the state of almost divine ecstasy, to which it may lead a + religious soul. In a few words, I will relate to you this instructive and + tragic history. Rancey—but I beg your pardon; I fear I am + trespassing on your time.” + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:65%;"> + <img src="images/30261m.jpg" alt="30261m” width=" /><br /> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/30261.jpg"><i>Original</i></a> + </h5> + <p> + “No, no,” answered Hardy, hastily; “You cannot think how + interested I am in what you tell me. My interview with the Abbe Gabriel + was abruptly broken off, and in listening to you I fancy that I hear the + further development of his views. Go on, I conjure you. + </p> + <p> + “With all my heart. I only wish that the instruction which, thanks + to our angelic priest, I derived from the story of Rancey might be as + profitable to you as it was to me.” + </p> + <p> + “This, then, also came from the Abbe Gabriel?” + </p> + <p> + “He related to me this kind of parable in support of his + exhortations,” replied Rodin. “Oh, sir! do I not owe to the + consoling words of that young priest all that has strengthened and revived + my poor old broken heart?” + </p> + <p> + “Then I shall listen to you with a double interest.” + </p> + <p> + “Rancey was a man of the world,” resumed Rodin, as he looked + attentively at Hardy; “a gentleman—young, ardent, handsome. He + loved a young lady of high rank. I cannot tell what impediments stood in + the way of their union. But this love, though successful, was kept secret, + and every evening Rancey visited his mistress by means of a private + staircase. It was, they say, one of those passionate loves which men feel + but once in their lives. The mystery, even the sacrifice made by the + unfortunate girl, who forgot every duty, seemed to give new charms to this + guilty passion. In the silence and darkness of secrecy, these two lovers + passed two years of voluptuous delirium, which amounted almost to ecstasy.” + </p> + <p> + At these words Hardy started. For the first time of late his brow was + suffused with a deep blush; his heart throbbed violently; he remembered + that he too had once known the ardent intoxication of a guilty and hidden + love. Though the day was closing rapidly, Rodin cast a sidelong glance at + Hardy, and perceived the impression he had made. “Some times,” + he continued, “thinking of the dangers to which his mistress was + exposed, if their connection should be discovered, Rancey wished to sever + these delicious ties; but the girl, beside herself with passion, threw + herself on the neck of her lover, and threatened him, in the language of + intense excitement, to reveal and to brave all, if he thought of leaving + her. Too weak and loving to resist the prayers of his mistress, Rancey + again and again yielded, and they both gave themselves up to a torrent of + delight, which carried them along, forgetful of earth and heaven!” + </p> + <p> + M. Hardy listened to Rodin with feverish and devouring avidity. The + Jesuit, in painting, with these almost sensual colors, an ardent and + secret love, revived in Hardy burning memories, which till now had been + drowned in tears. To the beneficent calm produced by the mild language of + Gabriel had succeeded a painful agitation, which, mingled with the + reaction of the shocks received that day, began to throw his mind into a + strange state of confusion. + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:65%;"> + <img src="images/30285m.jpg" alt="30285m” width=" /><br /> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/30285.jpg"><i>Original</i></a> + </h5> + <p> + Rodin, having so far succeeded in his object, continued as follows: + “A fatal day came at last. Rancey, obliged to go to the wars, + quitted the girl; but, after a short campaign, he returned, more in love + than ever. He had written privately, to say he would arrive almost + immediately after his letter. He came accordingly. It was night. He + ascended, as usual, the private staircase which led to the chamber of his + mistress; he entered the room, his heart beating with love and hope. His + mistress had died that morning!” + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” cried Hardy, covering his face with his hands, in + terror. + </p> + <p> + “She was dead,” resumed Rodin. “Two wax-candles were + burning beside the funeral couch. Rancey could not, would not believe that + she was dead. He threw himself on his knees by the corpse. In his + delirium, he seized that fair, beloved head, to cover it with kisses. The + head parted from the body, and remained in his hands! Yes,” resumed + Rodin as Hardy drew back, pale and mute with terror, “yes, the girl + had fallen a victim to so swift and extraordinary a disease, that she had + not been able to receive the last sacraments. After her death, the + doctors, in the hope of discovering the cause of this unknown malady, had + begun to dissect that fair form—” + </p> + <p> + As Rodin reached this part of his narrative, night was almost come. A sort + of hazy twilight alone reigned in this silent chamber, in the centre of + which appeared the pale and ghastly form of Rodin, clad in his long black + gown, whilst his eyes seemed to sparkle with diabolic fire. Overcome by + the violent emotions occasioned by this story, in which thoughts of death + and voluptuousness, love and horror, were so strangely mingled, Hardy + remained fixed and motionless, waiting for the words of Rodin, with a + combination of curiosity, anguish and alarm. + </p> + <p> + “And Rancey?” said he, at last, in an agitated voice, whilst + he wiped the cold sweat from his brow. + </p> + <p> + “After two days of furious delirium,” resumed Rodin, “he + renounced the world, and shut himself up in impenetrable solitude. The + first period of his retreat was frightful; in his despair, he uttered loud + yells of grief and rage, that were audible at some distance. Twice he + attempted suicide, to escape from the terrible visions.” + </p> + <p> + “He had visions, then?” said Hardy, with an increased agony of + curiosity. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” replied Rodin, in a solemn tone, “he had fearful + visions. He saw the girl, who, for his sake, had died in mortal sin, + plunged in the heat of the everlasting flames of hell! On that fair face, + disfigured by infernal tortures, was stamped the despairing laugh of the + damned! Her teeth gnashed with pain; her arms writhed in anguish! She wept + tears of blood, and, with an agonized and avenging voice, she cried to her + seducer: ‘Thou art the cause of my perdition—my curse, my + curse be upon thee!’” + </p> + <p> + As he pronounced these last words, Rodin advanced three steps nearer to + Hardy, accompanying each step with a menacing gesture. If we remember the + state of weakness, trouble, and fear, in which M. Hardy was—if we + remember that the Jesuit had just roused in the soul of this unfortunate + man all the sensual and spiritual memories of a love, cooled, but not + extinguished, in tears—if we remember, too, that Hardy reproached + himself with the seduction of a beloved object, whom her departure from + her duties might (according to the Catholic faith) doom to everlasting + flames—we shall not wonder at the terrible effect of this + phantasmagoria, conjured up in silence and solitude, in the evening dusk, + by this fearful priest. + </p> + <p> + The effect on Hardy was indeed striking, and the more dangerous, that the + Jesuit, with diabolical craft, seemed only to be carrying out, from + another point of view, the ideas of Gabriel. Had not the young priest + convinced Hardy that nothing is sweeter, than to ask of heaven forgiveness + for those who have sinned, or whom we have led astray? But forgiveness + implies punishment; and it was to the punishment alone that Rodin drew the + attention of his victim, by painting it in these terrible hues. With hands + clasped together, and eye fixed and dilated, Hardy trembled in all his + limbs, and seemed still listening to Rodin, though the latter had ceased + to speak. Mechanically, he repeated: “My curse, my curse be upon + thee?” + </p> + <p> + Then suddenly he exclaimed, in a kind of frenzy: “The curse is on me + also! The woman, whom I taught to forget her sacred duties, and to commit + mortal sin—one day plunged in the everlasting flames—her arms + writhing in agony—weeping tears of blood—will cry to me from + the bottomless pit: ‘My curse, my curse be upon thee!’—One + day,” he added, with redoubled terror, “one day?—who + knows? perhaps at this moment!—for if the sea voyage had been fatal + to her—if a shipwreck—oh, God! she too would have died in + mortal sin—lost, lost, forever!—Oh, have mercy on her, my God! + Crush me in Thy wrath—but have mercy on her—for I alone am + guilty!” + </p> + <p> + And the unfortunate man, almost delirious, sank with clasped hands upon + the ground. + </p> + <p> + “Sir,” cried Rodin, in an affectionate voice, as he hastened + to lift him up, “my dear sir—my dear friend—be calm! + Comfort yourself. I cannot bear to see you despond. Alas! my intention was + quite the contrary to that.” + </p> + <p> + “The curse! the curse! yes, she will curse me also—she, that I + loved so much—in the everlasting flames!” murmured Hardy, + shuddering, and apparently insensible to the other’s words. + </p> + <p> + “But, my dear sir, listen to me, I entreat you,” resumed the + latter; “let me finish my story, and then you will find it as + consoling as it now seems terrible. For heaven’s sake, remember the + adorable words of our angelic Abbe Gabriel, with regard to the sweetness + of prayer.” + </p> + <p> + At the name of Gabriel, Hardy recovered himself a little, and exclaimed, + in a heart-rending tone: “Ay! his words were sweet and beneficent. + Where are they now? For mercy’s sake, repeat to me those consoling + words.” + </p> + <p> + “Our angelic Abbe Gabriel,” resumed Rodin, “spoke to you + of the sweetness of prayer—” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes! prayer!” + </p> + <p> + “Well, my dear sir, listen to me, and you shall see how prayer saved + Rancey, and made a saint of him. Yes, these frightful torments, that I + have just described, these threatening visions, were all conquered by + prayer, and changed into celestial delights.” + </p> + <p> + “I beg of you,” said Hardy, in a faint voice, “speak to + me of Gabriel, speak to me of heaven—but no more flames—no + more hell—where sinful women weep tears of blood—” + </p> + <p> + “No, no,” replied Rodin; and even as, in describing hell, his + tone had been harsh and threatening, it now became warm and tender, as he + uttered the following words: “No; we will have no more images of + despair—for, as I have told you, after suffering infernal tortures, + Rancey, thanks to the power of prayer, enjoyed the delights of paradise.” + </p> + <p> + “The delights of paradise?” repeated Hardy, listening with + anxious attention. + </p> + <p> + “One day, at the height of his grief, a priest, a good priest—another + Abbe Gabriel—came to Rancey. Oh, happiness! oh, providential change! + In a few days, he taught the sufferer the sacred mysteries of prayer—that + pious intercession of the creature, addressed to the Creator, in favor of + a soul exposed to the wrath of heaven. Then Rancey seemed transformed. His + grief was at once appeased. He prayed; and the more he prayed, the greater + was his hope. He felt that God listened to his prayer. Instead of trying + to forget his beloved, he now thought of her constantly, and prayed for + her salvation. Happy in his obscure cell, alone with that adored + remembrance, he passed days and nights in praying for her—plunged in + an ineffable, burning, I had almost said amorous ecstasy.” + </p> + <p> + It is impossible to give an idea of the tone of almost sensual energy with + which Rodin pronounced the word “amorous.” Hardy started, + changing from hot to cold. For the first time, his weakened mind caught a + glimpse of the fatal pleasures of asceticism, and of that deplorable + catalepsy, described in the lives of St. Theresa, St. Aubierge and others. + </p> + <p> + Rodin perceived the other’s thoughts, and continued “Oh, + Rancey was not now the man to content himself with a vague, passing + prayer, uttered in the whirl of the world’s business, which swallows + it up, and prevents it from reaching the ear of heaven. No, no; in the + depth of solitude, he endeavored to make his prayers even more + efficacious, so ardently did he desire the eternal salvation of his + mistress.” + </p> + <p> + “What did he do then—oh! what did he do in his solitude?” + cried Hardy, who was now powerless in the hands of the Jesuit. + </p> + <p> + “First of all,” said Rodin, with a slight emphasis, “he + became a monk.” + </p> + <p> + “A monk!” repeated Hardy, with a pensive air. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” resumed Rodin, “he became a monk, because his + prayers were thus more likely to be favorably accepted. And then, as in + solitude our thoughts are apt to wander, he fasted, and mortified his + flesh, and brought into subjection all that was carnal within him, so + that, becoming all spirit, his prayers might issue like a pure flame from + his bosom, and ascend like the perfume of incense to the throne of the + Most High!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! what a delicious dream!” cried Hardy, more and more under + the influence of the spell; “to pray for the woman we have adored, + and to become spirit—perfume—light!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; spirit, perfume, light!” said Rodin, with emphasis. + “But it is no dream. How many monks, how many hermits, like Rancey, + have, by prayers, and austerity, and macerations, attained a divine + ecstasy! and if you only knew the celestial pleasures of such ecstasies!—Thus, + after he became a monk, the terrible dreams were succeeded by enchanting + visions. Many times, after a day of fasting, and a night passed in prayers + and macerations, Rancey sank down exhausted on the floor of his cell! Then + the spirit freed itself from the vile clogs of matter. His senses were + absorbed in pleasure; the sound of heavenly harmony struck upon his + ravished car; a bright, mild light, which was not of this world, dawned + upon his half-closed eyes; and, at the height of the melodious vibrations + of the golden harps of the Seraphim, in the centre of a glory, compared to + which the sun is pale, the monk beheld the image of that beloved woman—” + </p> + <p> + “Whom by his prayers he had at length rescued from the eternal + flames?” said Hardy, in a trembling voice. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, herself,” replied Rodin, with eloquent enthusiasm, for + this monster was skilled in every style of speech. “Thanks to the + prayers of her lover, which the Lord had granted, this woman no longer + shed tears of blood—no longer writhed her beautiful arms in the + convulsions of infernal anguish. No, no; still fair—oh! a thousand + times fairer than when she dwelt on earth—fair with the everlasting + beauty of angels—she smiled on her lover with ineffable ardor, and, + her eyes beaming with a mild radiance, she said to him in a tender and + passionate voice: ‘Glory to the Lord! glory to thee, O my beloved! + Thy prayers and austerities have saved me. I am numbered amongst the + chosen. Thanks, my beloved, and glory!’—And therewith, radiant + in her felicity, she stooped to kiss, with lips fragrant with immortality, + the lips of the enraptured monk—and their souls mingled in that + kiss, burning as love, chaste as divine grace immense as eternity!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” cried Hardy, completely beside himself; “a whole + life of prayer, fasting, torture, for such a moment—with her, whom I + mourn—with her, whom I have perhaps led to perdition!” + </p> + <p> + “What do you say? such a moment!” cried Rodin, whose yellow + forehead was bathed in sweat like that of a magnetizer, and who now took + Hardy by the hand, and drew still closer, as if to breathe into him the + burning delirium; “it was not once in his religious life—it + was almost every day, that Rancey, plunged in divine ecstasy, enjoyed + these delicious, ineffable, superhuman pleasures, which are to the + pleasures of earth what eternity is to man’s existence!” + </p> + <p> + Seeing, no doubt, that Hardy was now at the point to which he wished to + bring him, and the night being almost entirely come, the reverend father + coughed two or three times in a significant manner, and looked towards the + door. At this moment, Hardy, in the height of his frenzy, exclaimed, with + a supplicating voice: “A cell—a tomb—and the Ecstatic + Vision!” + </p> + <p> + The door of the room opened, and Father d’Aigrigny entered, with a + cloak under his arm. A servant followed him, bearing a light. + </p> + <p> + About ten minutes after this scene, a dozen robust men with frank, open + countenances, led by Agricola, entered the Rue de Vaugirard, and advanced + joyously towards the house of the reverend fathers. It was a deputation + from the former workmen of M. Hardy. They came to escort him, and to + congratulate him on his return amongst them. Agricola walked at their + head. Suddenly he saw a carriage with post-horses issuing from the gateway + of the house. The postilion whipped up the horses, and they started at + full gallop. Was it chance or instinct? The nearer the carriage approached + the group of which he formed a part, the more did Agricola’s heart + sink within him. + </p> + <p> + The impression became so vivid that it was soon changed into a terrible + apprehension; and at the moment when the vehicle, which had its blinds + down, was about to pass close by him, the smith, in obedience to a + resistless impulse, exclaimed, as he rushed to the horses’ heads: + “Help, friends! stop them!” + </p> + <p> + “Postilion! ten louis if you ride over him!” cried from the + carriage the military voice of Father d’Aigrigny. + </p> + <p> + The cholera was still raging. The postilion had heard of the murder of the + poisoners. Already frightened at the sudden attack of Agricola, he struck + him a heavy blow on the head with the butt of his whip which stretched him + senseless on the ground. Then, spurring with all his might, he urged his + three horses into a triple gallop, and the carriage rapidly disappeared, + whilst Agricola’s companions, who had neither understood his actions + nor the sense of his words, crowded around the smith, and did their best + to revive him. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0149" id="link2HCH0149"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XLIV. REMEMBRANCES. + </h2> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">O</span>ther events took + place a few days after the fatal evening in which M. Hardy, fascinated and + misled by the deplorable, mystic jargon of Rodin, had implored Father d’Aigrigny + on his knees to remove him far from Paris, into some deep solitude where + he might devote himself to a life of prayer and ascetic austerities. + Marshal Simon, since his arrival in Paris, had occupied, with his two + daughters, a house in the Rue des Trois-Freres. Before introducing the + reader into this modest dwelling, we are obliged to recall to his memory + some preceding facts. The day of the burning of Hardy ‘s factory, + Marshal Simon had come to consult with his father on a question of the + highest importance, and to communicate to him his painful apprehensions on + the subject of the growing sadness of his twin daughters, which he was + unable to explain. + </p> + <p> + Marshal Simon held in religious reverence the memory of the Great Emperor. + His gratitude to the hero was boundless, his devotion blind, his + enthusiasm founded upon reason, his affection warm as the most sincere and + passionate friendship. But this was not all. + </p> + <p> + One day the emperor, in a burst of joy and paternal tenderness, had led + the marshal to the cradle of the sleeping King of Rome, and said to him, + as he proudly pointed to the beautiful child: “My old friend, swear + to me that you will serve the son as you have served the father!” + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:65%;"> + <img src="images/30293m.jpg" alt="30293m” width=" /><br /> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/30293.jpg"><i>Original</i></a> + </h5> + <p> + Marshal Simon took and kept that vow. During the Restoration, the chief of + a military conspiracy in favor of Napoleon II., he had attempted in vain + to secure a regiment of cavalry, at that time commanded by the Marquis d’Aigrigny. + Betrayed and denounced, the marshal, after a desperate duel with the + future Jesuit, had succeeded in reaching Poland, and thus escaping a + sentence of death. It is useless to repeat the series of events which led + the marshal from Poland to India, and then brought him back to Paris after + the Revolution of July—an epoch at which a number of his old + comrades in arms had solicited and obtained from the government, without + his knowledge, the confirmation of the rank and title which the emperor + had bestowed upon him just before Waterloo. + </p> + <p> + On his return to Paris, after his long exile, in spite of all the + happiness he felt in at length embracing his children, Marshal Simon was + deeply affected on learning the death of their mother, whom he adored. + Till the last moment, he had hoped to find her in Paris. The + disappointment was dreadful, and he felt it cruelly, though he sought + consolation in his children’s affection. + </p> + <p> + But soon new causes of trouble and anxiety were interwoven with his life + by the machinations of Rodin. Thanks to the secret intrigues of the + reverend father at the Courts of Rome and Vienna, one of his emissaries, + in a condition to inspire full confidence, and provided with undeniable + evidence to support his words, went to Marshal Simon, and said to him: + “The son of the emperor is dying, the victim of the fears with which + the name of Napoleon still inspires Europe. + </p> + <p> + “From this slow expiring, you, Marshal Simon, one of the emperor’s + most faithful friends, are able to rescue this unfortunate prince. + </p> + <p> + “The correspondence in my hand proves that it would be easy to open + relations, of the surest and most secret nature, with one of the most + influential persons about the King of Rome, and this person would be + disposed to favor the prince’s escape. + </p> + <p> + “It is possible, by a bold, unexpected stroke, to deliver Napoleon + II. from the custody of Austria, which would leave him to perish by inches + in an atmosphere that is fatal to him. + </p> + <p> + “The enterprise may be a rash one, but it has chances of success + that you Marshal Simon, more than any other, could change into + certainties; for your devotion to the emperor is well known, and we + remember with what adventurous audacity you conspired, in 1815, in favor + of Napoleon II.” + </p> + <p> + The state of languor and decline of the King of Rome was then in France a + matter of public notoriety. People even went so far as to affirm that the + son of the hero was carefully trained by priests, who kept him in complete + ignorance of the glory of his paternal name; and that, by the most + execrable machinations, they strove day by day to extinguish every noble + and generous instinct that displayed itself in the unfortunate youth. The + coldest hearts were touched and softened at the story of so sad and fatal + a destiny. When we remember the heroic character and chivalrous loyalty of + Marshal Simon, and his passionate devotion to the emperor, we can + understand how the father of Rose and Blanche was more interested than any + one else in the fate of the young prince, and how, if occasion offered, he + would feel himself obliged not to confine his efforts to mere regrets. + With regard to the reality of the correspondence produced by Rodin’s + emissary, it had been submitted by the marshal to a searching test, by + means of his intimacy with one of his old companions in arms, who had been + for a long period on a mission to Vienna, in the time of the empire. The + result of this investigation, conducted with as much prudence as address, + so that nothing should transpire, showed that the marshal might give his + serious attention to the advances made him. + </p> + <p> + Hence, this proposition threw the father of Rose and Blanche into a cruel + perplexity; for, to attempt so bold and dangerous an enterprise, he must + once more abandon his children; whilst, on the contrary, if, alarmed at + this separation, he renounced the endeavor to save the King of Rome, whose + lingering death was perfectly true and well authenticated, the marshal + would consider himself as false to the vow he had sworn to the emperor. To + end these painful hesitations, full of confidence in the inflexible + uprightness of his father’s character, the marshal had gone to ask + his advice; unfortunately the old republican workman, mortally wounded + during the attack on M. Hardy’s factory, but still pondering over + the serious communication of his son, died with these words upon his Lips: + “My son, you have a great duty to perform, under pain of not acting + like a man of honor, and of disobeying my last will. You must, without + hesitation—” + </p> + <p> + But, by a deplorable fatality, the last words, which would have completed + the sense of the old workman’s thought, were spoken in so feeble a + voice as to be quite unintelligible. He died, leaving Marshal Simon in a + worse state of anxiety, as one of the two courses open to him had now been + formally condemned by his father, in whose judgment he had the most + implicit and merited confidence. In a word, his mind was now tortured by + the doubt whether his father had intended, in the name of honor and duty, + to advise him not to abandon his children, to engage in so hazardous an + enterprise, or whether, on the contrary, he had wished him to leave them + for a time, to perform the vow made to the emperor, and endeavor at least + to rescue Napoleon II. from a captivity that might soon be mortal. + </p> + <p> + This perplexity, rendered more cruel by certain circumstances, to be + related hereafter, the tragical death of his father, who had expired in + his arms; the incessant and painful remembrance of his wife, who had + perished in a land of exile; and finally, the grief he felt at perceiving + the overgrowing sadness of Rose and Blanche, occasioned severe shocks to + Marshal Simon. Let us add that, in spite of his natural intrepidity, so + nobly proved by twenty years of war, the ravages of the cholera, the same + terrible malady to which his wife had fallen a victim in Siberia, filled + the marshal with involuntary dread. Yes, this man of iron nerves, who had + coolly braved death in so many battles, felt the habitual firmness of his + character give way at sight of the scenes of desolation and mourning which + Paris offered at every step. Yet, when Mdlle. de Cardoville gathered round + her the members of her family, to warn them against the plot of their + enemies, the affectionate tenderness of Adrienne for Rose and Blanche + appeared to exercise so happy an influence on their mysterious sorrow, + that the marshal, forgetting for a moment his fatal regrets, thought only + of enjoying this blessed change, which, alas! was but of short duration. + Having now recalled these facts to the mind of the reader, we shall + continue our story. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0150" id="link2HCH0150"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XLV. THE BLOCKHEAD + </h2> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">W</span>e have stated that + Marshal Simon occupied a small house in the Rue des Trois-Freres. Two o’clock + in the afternoon had just struck in the marshal’s sleeping-chamber, + a room furnished with military simplicity. In the recess, in which stood + the bed, hung a trophy composed of the arms used by the marshal during his + campaigns. On the secretary opposite was a small bronze bust of the + emperor, the only ornament of the apartment. Out of doors the temperature + was far from warm, and the marshal had become susceptible to cold during + his long residence in India. A good fire therefore blazed upon the hearth. + A door, concealed by the hangings, and leading to a back staircase, opened + slowly, and a man entered the chamber. He carried a basket of wood, and + advanced leisurely to the fireplace, before which he knelt clown, and + began to arrange the logs symmetrically in a box that stood besides the + hearth. After some minutes occupied in this manner, still kneeling, he + gradually approached another door, at a little distance from the chimney, + and appeared to listen with deep attention, as if he wished to hear what + was passing in the next room. + </p> + <p> + This man, employed as an inferior servant in the house, had the most + ridiculously stupid look that can be imagined. His functions consisted in + carrying wood, running errands, etc. In other respects he was a kind of + laughing-stock to the other servants. In a moment of good humor, Dagobert, + who filled the post of major-domo, had given this idiot the name of + “Loony” (lunatic), which he had retained ever since, and which + he deserved in every respect, as well for his awkwardness and folly as for + his unmeaning face, with its grotesquely flat nose, sloping chin, and + wide, staring eyes. Add to this description a jacket of red stuff, and a + triangular white apron, and we must acknowledge that the simpleton was + quite worthy of his name. + </p> + <p> + Yet, at the moment when Loony listened so attentively at the door of the + adjoining room, a ray of quick intelligence animated for an instant his + dull and stupid countenance. + </p> + <p> + When he had thus listened for a short time, Loony returned to the + fireplace, still crawling on his knees; then rising, he again took his + basket half full of wood, and once more approaching the door at which he + had listened knocked discreetly. No one answered. He knocked a second + time, and more loudly. Still there was the same silence. + </p> + <p> + Then he said, in a harsh, squeaking, laughable voice: “Ladies, do + you want any wood, if you please, for your fire?” + </p> + <p> + Receiving no answer, Loony placed his basket on the ground, opened the + door gently, and entered the next room, after casting a rapid glance + around. He came out again in a few seconds, looking from side to side with + an anxious air, like a man who had just accomplished some important and + mysterious task. + </p> + <p> + Taking up his basket, he was about to leave Marshal Simon’s room, + when the door of the private staircase was opened slowly and with + precaution, and Dagobert appeared. + </p> + <p> + The soldier, evidently surprised at the servant’s presence, knitted + his brows, and exclaimed abruptly, “What are you doing here?” + </p> + <p> + At this sudden interrogation, accompanied by a growl expressive of the + ill-humor of Spoil-sport, who followed close on his master’s heels, + Loony uttered a cry of real or pretended terror. To give, perhaps, an + appearance of greater reality to his dread, the supposed simpleton let his + basket fall on the ground, as if astonishment and fear had loosened his + hold of it. + </p> + <p> + “What are you doing, numbskull?” resumed Dagobert, whose + countenance was impressed with deep sadness, and who seemed little + disposed to laugh at the fellow’s stupidity. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, M. Dagobert! how you frighten me! Dear me! what a pity I had + not an armful of plates, to prove it was not my fault if I broke them all.” + </p> + <p> + “I ask what you are doing,” resumed the soldier. + </p> + <p> + “You see, M. Dagobert,” replied Loony, pointing to his basket, + “that I came with some wood to master’s room, so that he might + burn it, if it was cold—which it is.” + </p> + <p> + “Very well. Pick up your wood, and begone!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, M. Dagobert! my legs tremble under me. How you did scare me, to + be sure!” + </p> + <p> + “Will you begone, brute?” resumed the veteran; and seizing + Loony by the arm, he pushed him towards the door, while Spoil-sport, with + recumbent ears, and hair standing up like the quills of a porcupine, + seemed inclined to accelerate his retreat. + </p> + <p> + “I am going, M. Dagobert, I am going,” replied the simpleton, + as he hastily gathered up his basket; “only please to tell the dog—” + </p> + <p> + “Go to the devil, you stupid chatterbox!” cried Dagobert, as + he pushed Loony through the doorway. + </p> + <p> + Then the soldier bolted the door which led to the private staircase, and + going to that which communicated with the apartments of the two sisters, + he double-locked it. Having done this, he hastened to the alcove in which + stood the bed and taking down a pair of loaded pistols, he carefully + removed the percussion caps, and, unable to repress a deep sigh, restored + the weapons to the place in which he had found them. Then, as if on second + thoughts, he took down an Indian dagger with a very sharp blade, and + drawing it from its silver-gilt sheath, proceeded to break the point of + this murderous instrument, by twisting it beneath one of the iron castors + of the bed. + </p> + <p> + Dagobert then proceeded to unfasten the two doors, and, returning slowly + to the marble chimney-piece, he leaned against it with a gloomy and + pensive air. Crouching before the fire, Spoil-sport followed with an + attentive eye the least movement of his master. The good dog displayed a + rare and intelligent sagacity. The soldier, having drawn out his + handkerchief, let fall, without perceiving it, a paper containing a roll + of tobacco. Spoil-sport, who had all the qualities of a retriever of the + Rutland race, took the paper between his teeth, and, rising upon his + hind-legs, presented it respectfully to Dagobert. But the latter received + it mechanically, and appeared indifferent to the dexterity of his dog. The + grenadier’s countenance revealed as much sorrow as anxiety. After + remaining for some minutes near the fire, with fixed and meditative look, + he began to walk about the room in great agitation, one of his hands + thrust into the bosom of his long blue frock-coat, which was buttoned up + to the chin, and the other into one of his hind-pockets. + </p> + <p> + From time to time he stopped abruptly, and seemed to make reply to his own + thoughts, or uttered an exclamation of doubt and uneasiness; then, turning + towards the trophy of arms, he shook his head mournfully, and murmured, + “No matter—this fear may be idle; but he has acted so + extraordinarily these two days, that it is at all events more prudent—” + </p> + <p> + He continued his walk, and said, after a new and prolonged silence: + “Yes he must tell me. It makes me too uneasy. And then the poor + children—it is enough to break one’s heart.” + </p> + <p> + And Dagobert hastily drew his moustache between his thumb and forefinger, + a nervous movement, which with him was an evident symptom of extreme + agitation. Some minutes after, the soldier resumed, still answering his + inward thoughts: “What can it be? It is hardly possible to be the + letters, they are too infamous; he despises them. And yet But no, no—he + is above that!” + </p> + <p> + And Dagobert again began to walk with hasty steps. Suddenly, Spoil-sport + pricked up his ears, turned his head in the direction of the staircase + door, and growled hoarsely. A few seconds after, some one knocked at the + door. + </p> + <p> + “Who is there?” said Dagobert. There was no answer, but the + person knocked again. Losing patience, the soldier went hastily to open + it, and saw the servant’s stupid face. + </p> + <p> + “Why don’t you answer, when I ask who knocks!” said the + soldier, angrily. + </p> + <p> + “M. Dagobert, you sent me away just now, and I was afraid of making + you cross, if I said I had come again.” + </p> + <p> + “What do you want? Speak then—come in, stupid!” cried + the exasperated. Dagobert, as he pulled him into the room. + </p> + <p> + “M. Dagobert, don’t be angry—I’ll tell you all + about it—it is a young man.” + </p> + <p> + “Well?” + </p> + <p> + “He wants to speak to you directly, Mr. Dagobert.” + </p> + <p> + “His name?” + </p> + <p> + “His name, M. Dagobert?” replied Loony, rolling about and + laughing with an idiotic air. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, his name. Speak, idiot!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, M. Dagobert! it’s all in joke that you ask me his name!” + </p> + <p> + “You are determined, fool that you are, to drive me out of my + senses!” cried the soldier, seizing Loony by the collar. “The + name of this young man!” + </p> + <p> + “Don’t be angry, M. Dagobert. I didn’t tell you the name + because you know it.” + </p> + <p> + “Beast!” said Dagobert, shaking his fist at him. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, you do know it, M. Dagobert, for the young man is your own + son. He is downstairs, and wants to speak to you directly—yes, + directly.” + </p> + <p> + The stupidity was so well assumed, that Dagobert was the dupe of it. Moved + to compassion rather than anger by such imbecility, he looked fixedly at + the servant, shrugged his shoulders, and said, as he advanced towards the + staircase, “Follow me!” + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:65%;"> + <img src="images/30301m.jpg" alt="30301m” width=" /><br /> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/30301.jpg"><i>Original</i></a> + </h5> + <p> + Loony obeyed; but, before closing the door, he drew a letter secretly from + his pocket, and dropped it behind him without turning his head, saying all + the while to Dagobert, for the purpose of occupying his attention: “Your + son is in the court, M. Dagobert. He would not come up—that’s + why he is still downstairs!” + </p> + <p> + Thus talking, he closed the door, believing he had left the letter on the + floor of Marshal Simon’s room. But he had reckoned without + Spoil-sport. Whether he thought it more prudent to bring up the rear, or, + from respectful deference for a biped, the worthy dog had been the last to + leave the room, and, being a famous carrier, as soon as he saw the letter + dropped by Loony, he took it delicately between his teeth, and followed + close on the heels of the servant, without the latter perceiving this new + proof of the intelligence and sagacity of Spoil-sport. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0151" id="link2HCH0151"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XLVI. THE ANONYMOUS LETTERS. + </h2> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">W</span>e will explain + presently what became of the letter, which Spoil-sport held between his + teeth, and why he left his master, when the latter ran to meet Agricola. + Dagobert had not seen his son for some days. Embracing him cordially, he + led him into one of the rooms on the ground floor, which he usually + occupied. “And how is your wife?” said the soldier to his son. + </p> + <p> + “She is well, father, thank you.” + </p> + <p> + Perceiving a great change in Agricola’s countenance, Dagobert + resumed: “You look sad. Has anything gone wrong since I saw you + last?” + </p> + <p> + “All is over, father. We have lost him,” said the smith, in a + tone of despair. + </p> + <p> + “Lost whom?” + </p> + <p> + “M. Hardy.” + </p> + <p> + “M. Hardy!—why, three days ago, you told me you were going to + see him.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, father, I have seen him—and my dear brother Gabriel saw + him and spoke to him—how he speaks! with a voice that comes from the + heart!—and he had so revived and encouraged him, that M. Hardy + consented to return amongst us. Then I, wild with joy, ran to tell the + good news to some of my mates, who were waiting to hear the result of nay + interview with M. Hardy. I brought them all with me to thank and bless + him. We were within a hundred yards of the house belonging to the + black-gowns—” + </p> + <p> + “Ali, the black-gowns!” said Dagobert, with a gloomy air. + “Then some mischief will happen. I know them.” + </p> + <p> + “You are not mistaken, father,” answered Agricola, with a + sigh. “I was running on with my comrades, when I saw a carriage + coming towards us. Some presentiment told me that they were taking away M. + Hardy.” + </p> + <p> + “By force!” said Dagobert, hastily. + </p> + <p> + “No,” answered Agricola, bitterly; “no—the priests + are too cunning for that. They know how to make you an accomplice in the + evil they do you. Shall I not always remember how they managed with my + good mother?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, the worthy woman! there was a poor fly caught in the spider’s + web. But this carriage, of which you speak?” + </p> + <p> + “On seeing it start from the house of the black-gowns,” + replied Agricola, “my heart sank within me; and, by an impulse + stronger than myself, I rushed to the horses’ heads, calling on my + comrades to help me. But the postilion knocked me down and stunned me with + a blow from his whip. When I recovered my senses, the carriage was already + far away.” + </p> + <p> + “You were not hurt?” cried Dagobert, anxiously, as he examined + his son from top to toe. + </p> + <p> + “No, father; a mere scratch.” + </p> + <p> + “What did you next, my boy?” + </p> + <p> + “I hastened to our good angel, Mdlle. de Cardoville, and told her + all. ‘You must follow M. Hardy on the instant,’ said she to + me. ‘Take my carriage and post-horses. Dupont will accompany you; + follow M. Hardy from stage to stage; should you succeed in overtaking him + your presence and your prayers may perhaps conquer the fatal influence + that these priests have acquired over him.’” + </p> + <p> + “It was the best advice she could give you. That excellent young + lady is always right.” + </p> + <p> + “An hour after, we were upon our way, for we learned by the returned + postilions, that M. Hardy had taken the Orleans road. We followed him as + far as Etampes. There we heard that he had taken a cross-road, to reach a + solitary house in a valley about four leagues from the highway. They told + us that this house called the Val-de-St. Herem, belonged to certain + priests, and that, as the night was so dark, and the road so bad, we had + better sleep at the inn, and start early in the morning. We followed this + advice, and set out at dawn. In a quarter of an hour, we quitted the + high-road for a mountainous and desert track. We saw nothing but brown + rocks, and a few birch trees. As we advanced, the scene became wilder and + wilder. We might have fancied ourselves a hundred leagues from Paris. At + last we stopped in front of a large, old, black-looking house with only a + few small windows in it, and built at the foot of a high, rocky mountain. + In my whole life I have never seen anything so deserted and sad. We got + out of the carriage, and I rang the bell. A man opened the door. ‘Did + not the Abbe d’Aigrigny arrive here last night with a gentleman?’ + said I to this man, with a confidential air. ‘Inform the gentleman + directly, that I come on business of importance, and that I must see him + forthwith.’—The man, believing me an accomplice, showed us in + immediately; a moment after, the Abbe d’Aigrigny opened the door, + saw me, and drew back; yet, in five minutes more, I was in presence of M. + Hardy.” + </p> + <p> + “Well!” said Dagobert, with interest. + </p> + <p> + Agricola shook his head sorrowfully, and replied: “I knew by the + very countenance of M. Hardy, that all was over. Addressing me in a mild + but firm voice, he said to me: ‘I understand, I can even excuse, the + motives that bring you hither. But I am quite determined to live + henceforth in solitude and prayer. I take this resolution freely and + voluntarily, because I would fain provide for the salvation of my soul. + Tell your fellows that my arrangements will be such as to leave them a + good remembrance of me.’—And as I was about to speak, M. Hardy + interrupted me, saying: ‘It is useless, my friend. My determination + is unalterable. Do not write to me, for your letters would remain + unanswered. Prayer will henceforth be my only occupation. Excuse me for + leaving you, but I am fatigued from my journey!’—He spoke the + truth for he was as pale as a spectre, with a kind of wildness about the + eyes, and so changed since the day before, as to be hardly the same man. + His hand, when he offered it on parting from me, was dry and burning. The + Abbe d’Aigrigny soon came in. ‘Father,’ said M. Hardy to + him, ‘have the goodness to see M. Baudoin to the door.’—So + saying, he waved his hand to me in token of farewell, and retired to the + next chamber. All was over; he is lost to us forever.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Dagobert, “those black-gowns have enchanted + him, like so many others.” + </p> + <p> + “In despair,” resumed Agricola, “I returned hither with + M. Dupont. This, then, is what the priests have made of M. Hardy—of + that generous man, who supported nearly three hundred industrious workmen + in order and happiness, increasing their knowledge, improving their + hearts, and earning the benediction of that little people, of which he was + the providence. Instead of all this, M. Hardy is now forever reduced to a + gloomy and unavailing life of contemplation.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, the black-gowns!” said Dagobert, shuddering, and unable + to conceal a vague sense of fear. “The longer I live, the more I am + afraid of them. You have seen what those people did to your poor mother; + you see what they have just done to M. Hardy; you know their plots against + my two poor orphans, and against that generous young lady. Oh, these + people are very powerful! I would rather face a battalion of Russian + grenadiers, than a dozen of these cassocks. But don’t let’s + talk of it. I have causes enough beside for grief and fear.” + </p> + <p> + Then seeing the astonished look of Agricola, the soldier, unable to + restrain his emotion, threw himself into the arms of his son, exclaiming + with a choking voice: “I can hold out no longer. My heart is too + full. I must speak; and whom shall I trust if not you?” + </p> + <p> + “Father, you frighten me!” said Agricola, “What is the + matter?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, you see, had it not been for you and the two poor girls, I + should have blown out my brains twenty times over rather than see what I + see—and dread what I do.” + </p> + <p> + “What do you dread, father?” + </p> + <p> + “Since the last few days, I do not know what has come over the + marshal—but he frightens me.” + </p> + <p> + “Yet in his last interviews with Mdlle. de Cardoville—” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, he was a little better. By her kind words, this generous young + lady poured balm into his wounds; the presence of the young Indian cheered + him; he appeared to shake off his cares, and his poor little girls felt + the benefit of the change. But for some days, I know not what demon has + been loosed against his family. It is enough to turn one’s head. + First of all, I am sure that the anonymous letters have begun again.” + </p> + <p> + “What letters, father?” + </p> + <p> + “The anonymous letters.” + </p> + <p> + “But what are they about?” + </p> + <p> + “You know how the marshal hated that renegade, the Abbe d’Aigrigny. + When he found that the traitor was here, and that he had persecuted the + two orphans, even as he persecuted their mother to the death—but + that now he had become a priest—I thought the marshal would have + gone mad with indignation and fury. He wishes to go in search of the + renegade. With one word I calmed him. ‘He is a priest,’ I + said; ‘you may do what you will, insult or strike him—he will + not fight. He began by serving against his country, he ends by becoming a + bad priest. It is all in character. He is not worth spitting upon.’—‘But + surely I may punish the wrong done to my children, and avenge the death of + my wife,’ cried the marshal, much exasperated.—‘They + say, as you well know, that there are courts of law to avenge your wrongs,’ + answered I; ‘Mdlle. de Cardoville has lodged a charge against the + renegade, for having attempted to confine your daughters in a convent. We + must champ the bit and wait.”’ + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Agricola, mournfully, “and unfortunately + there lacks proof to bring it home to the Abbe d’Aigrigny. The other + day, when I was examined by Mdlle. de Cardoville’s lawyer, with + regard to our attempt on the convent, he told me that we should meet with + obstacles at every step, for want of legal evidence, and that the priests + had taken their precautions with so much skill that the indictment would + be quashed.” + </p> + <p> + “That is just what the marshal thinks, my boy, and this increases + his irritation at such injustice.” + </p> + <p> + “He should despise the wretches.” + </p> + <p> + “But the anonymous letters!” + </p> + <p> + “Well, what of them, father?” + </p> + <p> + “You shall know all. A brave and honorable man like the marshal, + when his first movement of indignation was over, felt that to insult the + renegade disguised in the garb of a priest, would be like insulting an old + man or a woman. He determined therefore to despise him, and to forget him + as soon as possible. But then, almost every day, there came by the post + anonymous letters, in which all sorts of devices were employed, to revive + and excite the anger of the marshal against the renegade by reminding him + of all the evil contrived by the Abbe d’Aigrigny against him and his + family. The marshal was reproached with cowardice for not taking vengeance + on this priest, the persecutor of his wife and children, the insolent + mocker at his misfortunes.” + </p> + <p> + “And from whom do you suspect these letters to come, father?” + </p> + <p> + “I cannot tell—it is that which turns one’s brain. They + must come from the enemies of the marshal, and he has no enemies but the + black-gowns.” + </p> + <p> + “But, father, since these letters are to excite his anger against + the Abbe d’Aigrigny, they can hardly have been written by priests.” + </p> + <p> + “That is what I have said to myself.” + </p> + <p> + “But what, then, can be their object?” + </p> + <p> + “Their object? oh, it is too plain!” cried Dagobert. “The + marshal is hasty, ardent; he has a thousand reasons to desire vengeance on + the renegade. But he cannot do himself justice, and the other sort of + justice fails him. Then what does he do? He endeavors to forget, he + forgets. But every day there comes to him an insolent letter, to provoke + and exasperate his legitimate hatred, by mockeries and insults. Devil take + me! my head is not the weakest—but, at such a game, I should go mad.” + </p> + <p> + “Father, such a plot would be horrible, and only worthy of hell!” + </p> + <p> + “And that is not all.” + </p> + <p> + “What more?” + </p> + <p> + “The marshal has received other letters; those he has not shown me—but, + after he had read the first, he remained like a man struck motionless, and + murmured to himself: ‘They do not even respect that—oh! it is + too much—too much!’—And, hiding his face in his hands he + wept.” + </p> + <p> + “The marshal wept!” cried the blacksmith, hardly able to + believe what he heard. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” answered Dagobert, “he wept like a child.” + </p> + <p> + “And what could these letters contain, father?” + </p> + <p> + “I did not venture to ask him, he appeared so miserable and + dejected.” + </p> + <p> + “But thus harassed and tormented incessantly, the marshal must lead + a wretched life.” + </p> + <p> + “And his poor little girls too! he sees them grow sadder and sadder, + without being able to guess the cause. And the death of his father, killed + almost in his arms! Perhaps, you will think all this enough; but, no! I am + sure there is something still more painful behind. Lately, you would + hardly know the marshal. He is irritable about nothing, and falls into + such fits of passion, that—” After a moment’s + hesitation, the soldier resumed: “I way tell this to you, my poor + boy. I have just been upstairs, to take the caps from his pistols.” + </p> + <p> + “What, father!” cried Agricola; “you fear—” + </p> + <p> + “In the state of exasperation in which I saw him yesterday, there is + everything to fear.” + </p> + <p> + “What then happened?” + </p> + <p> + “Since some time, he has often long secret interviews with a + gentleman, who looks like an old soldier and a worthy man. I have remarked + that the gloom and agitation of the marshal are always redoubled after one + of these visits. Two or three times, I have spoken to him about it; but I + saw by his look, that I displeased him, and therefore I desisted. + </p> + <p> + “Well! yesterday, this gentleman came in the evening. He remained + here until eleven o’clock, and his wife came to fetch him, and + waited for him in a coach. After his departure, I went up to see if the + marshal wanted anything. He was very pale, but calm; he thanked me, and I + came down again. You know that my room is just under his. I could hear the + marshal walking about as if much agitated, and soon after he seemed to be + knocking down the furniture. In alarm, I once more went upstairs. He asked + me, with an irritated air, what I wanted, and ordered me to leave the + room. Seeing him in that way, I remained; he grew more angry, still I + remained; perceiving a chair and table thrown down, I pointed to them with + so sad an air that he understood me. You know that he has the best heart + in the world, so, taking me by the hand, he said to me: ‘Forgive me + for causing you this uneasiness, my good Dagobert; but just now, I lost my + senses, and gave way to a burst of absurd fury; I think I should have + thrown myself out of the window, had it been open. I only hope, that my + poor dear girls have not heard me,’ added he, as he went on tip-toe + to open the door which communicates with his daughters’ bedroom. + When he had listened anxiously for a moment, he returned to me, and said: + ‘Luckily, they are asleep.’—Then I asked him what was + the cause of his agitation, and if, in spite of my precautions, he had + received any more anonymous letters. ‘No,’ replied he, with a + gloomy air; ‘but leave me, my friend. I am now better. It has done + me good to see you. Good—night, old comrade! go downstairs to bed.’—I + took care not to contradict him; but, pretending to go down, I came up + again, and seated myself on the top stair, listening. No doubt, to calm + himself entirely, the marshal went to embrace his children, for I heard + him open and shut their door. Then he returned to his room, and walked + about for a long time, but with a more quiet step. At last, I heard him + throw himself on his bed, and I came down about break of day. After that, + all remained tranquil.” + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:65%;"> + <img src="images/30309m.jpg" alt="30309m” width=" /><br /> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/30309.jpg"><i>Original</i></a> + </h5> + <p> + “But whatever can be the matter with him, father?” + </p> + <p> + “I do not know. When I went up to him, I was astonished at the + agitation of his countenance, and the brilliancy of his eyes. He would + have looked much the same, had he been delirious, or in a burning fever—so + that, when I heard him say, he could have thrown himself out of the + window, had it been open, I thought it more prudent to remove the caps + from his pistols.” + </p> + <p> + “I cannot understand it!” said Agricola. “So firm, + intrepid, and cool a man as the marshal, a prey to such violence!” + </p> + <p> + “I tell you that something very extraordinary is passing within him. + For two days, he has not been to see his children, which is always a bad + sign with him—to say nothing of the poor little angels themselves, + who are miserable at the notion that they have displeased their father. + They displease him! If you only knew the life they lead, dear creatures! a + walk or ride with me and their companion, for I never let them go out + alone, and, the rest of their time, at their studies, reading, or + needlework—always together—and then to bed. Yet their duenna, + who is, I think, a worthy woman, tells me that sometimes at night, she has + seen them shed tears in their sleep. Poor children! they have hitherto + known but little happiness,” added the soldier, with a sigh. + </p> + <p> + At this moment, hearing some one walk hastily across the courtyard, + Dagobert raised his eyes, and saw Marshal Simon, with pale face and + bewildered air, holding in his two hands a letter, which he seemed to read + with devouring anxiety. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0152" id="link2HCH0152"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XLVII. THE GOLDEN CITY. + </h2> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">W</span>hile Marshal Simon + was crossing the little court with so agitated an air, reading the + anonymous letter, which he had received by Spoil-sport’s unexpected + medium, Rose and Blanche were alone together, in the sitting room they + usually occupied, which had been entered for a moment by Loony during + their absence. The poor children seemed destined to a succession of + sorrows. At the moment their mourning for their mother drew near its + close, the tragical death of their grandfather had again dressed them in + funereal weeds. They were seated together upon a couch, in front of their + work-table. Grief often produces the effect of years. Hence, in a few + months, Rose and Blanche had become quite young women. To the infantine + grace of their charming faces, formerly so plump and rosy, but now pale + and thin, had succeeded an expression of grave and touching sadness. Their + large, mild eyes of limpid azure, which always had a dreamy character, + were now never bathed in those joyous tears, with which a burst of frank + and hearty laughter used of old to adorn their silky lashes, when the + comic coolness of Dagobert, or some funny trick of Spoil-sport, cheered + them in the course of their long and weary pilgrimage. + </p> + <p> + In a word, those delightful faces, which the flowery pencil of Greuze + could alone have painted in all their velvet freshness, were now worthy of + inspiring the melancholy ideal of the immortal Ary Scheffer, who gave us + Mignon aspiring to Paradise, and Margaret dreaming of Faust. Rose, leaning + back on the couch, held her head somewhat bowed upon her bosom, over which + was crossed a handkerchief of black crape. The light streaming from a + window opposite, shone softly on her pure, white forehead, crowned by two + thick bands of chestnut hair. Her look was fixed, and the open arch of her + eyebrows, now somewhat contracted, announced a mind occupied with painful + thoughts. Her thin, white little hands had fallen upon her knees, but + still held the embroidery, on which she had been engaged. The profile of + Blanche was visible, leaning a little towards her sister, with an + expression of tender and anxious solicitude, whilst her needle remained in + the canvas, as if she had just ceased to work. + </p> + <p> + “Sister,” said Blanche, in a low voice, after some moments of + silence, during which the tears seemed to mount to her eyes, “tell + me what you are thinking of. You look so sad.” + </p> + <p> + “I think of the Golden City of our dreams,” replied Rose, + almost in a whisper, after another short silence. + </p> + <p> + Blanche understood the bitterness of these words. Without speaking, she + threw herself on her sister’s neck, and wept. Poor girls! the Golden + City of their dreams was Paris, with their father in it—Paris, the + marvellous city of joys and festivals, through all of which the orphans + had beheld the radiant and smiling countenance of their sire! But, alas! + the Beautiful City had been changed into a place of tears, and death, and + mourning. The same terrible pestilence which had struck down their mother + in the heart of Siberia, seemed to have followed them like a dark and + fatal cloud, which, always hovering above them, hid the mild blue of the + sky, and the joyous light of the sun. + </p> + <p> + The Golden City of their dreams! It was the place, where perhaps one day + their father would present to them two young lovers, good and fair as + themselves. “They love you,” he was to say; “they are + worthy of you. Let each of you have a brother, and me two sons.” + Then what chaste, enchanting confusion for those two orphans, whose + hearts, pure as crystal, had never reflected any image but that of + Gabriel, the celestial messenger sent by their mother to protect them! + </p> + <p> + We can therefore understand the painful emotion of Blanche, when she heard + her sister repeat, with bitter melancholy, those words which described + their whole situation: “I think of the Golden City of our dreams!” + </p> + <p> + “Who knows?” proceeded Blanche, drying her sister’s + tears; “perhaps, happiness may yet be in store for us.” + </p> + <p> + “Alas! if we are not happy with our father by us—shall we ever + be so?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, when we rejoin our mother,” said Blanche, lifting her + eyes to heaven. + </p> + <p> + “Then, sister, this dream may be a warning—it is so like that + we had in Germany.” + </p> + <p> + “The difference being that then the Angel Gabriel came down from + heaven to us, and that this time he takes us from earth, to our mother.” + </p> + <p> + “And this dream will perhaps come true, like the other, my sister. + We dreamt that the Angel Gabriel would protect us, and he came to save us + from the shipwreck.” + </p> + <p> + “And, this time, we dream that he will lead us to heaven. Why should + not that happen also?” + </p> + <p> + “But to bring that about, sister, our Gabriel, who saved us from the + shipwreck, must die also. No, no; that must not happen. Let us pray that + it may not happen.” + </p> + <p> + “No, it will not happen—for it is only Gabriel’s good + angel, who is so like him, that we saw in our dreams.” + </p> + <p> + “Sister, dear, how singular is this dream!—Here, as in + Germany, we have both dreamt the same—three times, the very same!” + </p> + <p> + “It is true. The Angel Gabriel bent over us, and looked at us with + so mild and sad an air, saying: ‘Come, my children! come, my + sisters! Your mother waits for you. Poor children, arrived from so far!’ + added he in his tender voice: ‘You have passed over the earth, + gentle and innocent as two doves, to repose forever in the maternal nest.’” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, those were the words of the archangel,” said the other + orphan, with a pensive air; “we have done no harm to any one, and we + have loved those who loved us—why should we fear to die?” + </p> + <p> + “Therefore, dear sister, we rather smiled than wept, when he took us + by the hand, and, spreading wide his beautiful white wings, carried us + along with him to the blue depths of the sky.” + </p> + <p> + “To heaven, where our dear mother waited for us with open arms, her + face all bathed in tears.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, sweet sister! one has not dreams like ours for nothing. And + then,” added she, looking at Rose, with a sad smile that went to the + heart, “our death might perhaps end the sorrow, of which we have + been the cause.” + </p> + <p> + “Alas! it is not our fault. We love him so much. But we are so timid + and sorrowful before him, that he may perhaps think we love him not.” + </p> + <p> + So saying, Rose took her handkerchief from her workbasket, to dry her + fears; a paper, folded in the form of a letter, fell out. + </p> + <p> + At this sight, the two shuddered, and pressed close to one mother, and + Rose said to Blanche, in a trembling voice: “Another of these + letters!—Oh, I am afraid! It will doubtless be like the last.” + </p> + <p> + “We must pick it up quickly, that it may not be seen,” said + Blanche, hastily stooping to seize the letter; “the people who take + interest in us might otherwise be exposed to great danger.” + </p> + <p> + “But how could this letter come to us?” + </p> + <p> + “How did the others come to be placed right under our hand, and + always in the absence of our duenna?” + </p> + <p> + “It is true. Why seek to explain the mystery? We should never be + able to do so. Let us read the letter. It will perhaps be more favorable + to us than the last.” And the two sisters read as follows:-“Continue + to love your father, dear children, for he is very miserable, and you are + the involuntary cause of his distress. You will never know the terrible + sacrifices that your presence imposes on him; but, alas! he is the victim + of his paternal duties. His sufferings are more cruel than ever; spare him + at least those marks of tenderness, which occasion him so much more pain + than pleasure. Each caress is a dagger-stroke, for he sees in you the + innocent cause of his misfortunes. Dear children, you must not therefore + despair. If you have enough command over yourselves, not to torture him by + the display of too warm a tenderness, if you can mingle some reserve with + your affection, you will greatly alleviate his sorrow. Keep these letters + a secret from every one, even from good Dagobert, who loves you so much; + otherwise, both he and you, your father, and the unknown friend who is + writing to you, will be exposed to the utmost peril, for your enemies are + indeed formidable. Courage and hope! May your father’s tenderness be + once more free from sorrow and regret!—That happy day is perhaps not + so far distant. Burn this letter like all the others!” + </p> + <p> + The above note was written with so much cunning that, even supposing the + orphans had communicated it to their father or Dagobert, it would at the + worst have been considered a strange, intrusive proceeding, but almost + excusable from the spirit in which it was conceived. Nothing could have + been contrived with more perfidious art, if we consider the cruel + perplexity in which Marshal Simon was struggling between the fear of again + leaving his children and the shame of neglecting what he considered a + sacred duty. All the tenderness, all the susceptibility of heart which + distinguished the orphans, had been called into play by these diabolical + counsels, and the sisters soon perceived that their presence was in fact + both sweet and painful to their father; for sometimes he felt himself + incapable of leaving them, and sometimes the thought of a neglected duty + spread a cloud of sadness over his brow. Hence the poor twins could not + fail to value the fatal meaning of the anonymous letters they received. + They were persuaded that, from some mysterious motive, which they were + unable to penetrate, their presence was often importunate and even painful + to their father. Hence the growing sadness of Rose and Blanche—hence + the sort of fear and reserve which restrained the expression of their + filial tenderness. A most painful situation for the marshal, who deceived + by inexplicable appearances, mistook, in his turn, their manner of + indifference to him—and so, with breaking heart, and bitter grief + upon his face, often abruptly quitted his children to conceal his tears! + </p> + <p> + And the desponding orphans said to each other: “We are the cause of + our father’s grief. It is our presence which makes him so unhappy.” + </p> + <p> + The reader may new judge what ravages such a thought, when fixed and + incessant, must have made on these young, loving, timid, and simple + hearts. Haw could the orphans be on their guard against such anonymous + communications, which spoke with reverence of all they loved, and seemed + every day justified by the conduct of their father? Already victims of + numerous plots, and hearing that they were surrounded by enemies, we can + understand, how faithful to the advice of their unknown friend, they + forbore to confide to Dagobert these letters, in which he was so justly + appreciated. The object of the proceeding was very plain. By continually + harassing the marshal on all sides, and persuading him of the coldness of + his children, the conspirators might naturally hope to conquer the + hesitation which had hitherto prevented his again quitting his daughters + to embark in a dangerous enterprise. To render the marshal’s life so + burdensome that he would desire to seek relief from his torments in airy + project of daring and generous chivalry, was one of the ends proposed by + Rodin—and, as we have seen, it wanted neither logic nor possibility. + </p> + <p> + After having read the letter, the two remained for a moment silent and + dejected. Then Rose, who held the paper in her hand, started up suddenly, + approached the chimneypiece, and threw the letter into the fire, saying, + with a timid air: “We must burn it quickly, or perhaps some great + danger will ensue.” + </p> + <p> + “What greater misfortune can happen to us,” said Blanche, + despondingly, “than to cause such sorrow to our father? What can be + the reason of it?” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps,” said Rose, whose tears were slowly trickling down + her cheek, “he does not find us what he could have desired. He may + love us well as the children of our poor mother, but we are not the + daughters he had dreamed of. Do you understand me, sister?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes—that is perhaps what occasioned all his sorrow. We + are so badly informed, so wild, so awkward, that he is no doubt ashamed of + us; and, as he loves us in spite of all, it makes him suffer.” + </p> + <p> + “Alas! it is not our fault. Our dear mother brought us up in the + deserts of Siberia as well as she could.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! father himself does not reproach us with it; only it gives him + pain.” + </p> + <p> + “Particularly if he has friends whose daughters are very beautiful, + and possessed of all sorts of talents. Then he must bitterly regret that + we are not the same.” + </p> + <p> + “Dost remember when he took us to see our cousin, Mdlle. Adrienne, + who was so affectionate and kind to us, that he said to us, with + admiration: ‘Did you notice her, my children? How beautiful she is, + and what talent, what a noble heart, and therewith such grace and + elegance!’” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, it is very true! Mdlle. de Cardoville is so beautiful, her + voice is so sweet and gentle, that, when we saw and heard her, we fancied + that all our troubles were at an end.” + </p> + <p> + “And it is because of such beauty, no doubt, that our father, + comparing us with our cousin and so many other handsome young ladies, + cannot be very proud of us. And he, who is so loved and honored, would + have liked to have been proud of his daughters.” + </p> + <p> + Suddenly Rose laid her hand on her sister’s arm, and said to her, + with anxiety: “Listen! listen! they are talking very loud in father’s + bedroom.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Blanche, listening in her turn; “and I can + hear him walking. That is his step.” + </p> + <p> + “Good heaven! how he raises his voice; he seems to be in a great + passion; he will perhaps come this way.” + </p> + <p> + And at the thought of their father’s coming—that father who + really adored them—the unhappy children looked in terror at each + other. The sound of a loud and angry voice became more and more distinct; + and Rose, trembling through all her frame, said to her sister: “Do + not let us remain here! Come into our room.” + </p> + <p> + “Why?” + </p> + <p> + “We should hear, without designing it, the words of our father—and + he does not perhaps know that we are so near.” + </p> + <p> + “You are right. Come, come!” answered Blanche, as she rose + hastily from her seat. + </p> + <p> + “Oh! I am afraid. I have never heard him speak in so angry a tone.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! kind heaven!” said Blanche, growing pale, as she stopped + involuntarily. “It is to Dagobert that he is talking so loud.” + </p> + <p> + “What can be the matter—to make our father speak to him in + that way?” + </p> + <p> + “Alas! some great misfortune must have happened.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, sister! do not let us remain here! It pains me too much to hear + Dagobert thus spoken to.” + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:65%;"> + <img src="images/30317m.jpg" alt="30317m” width=" /><br /> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/30317.jpg"><i>Original</i></a> + </h5> + <p> + The crash of some article, hurled with violence and broken to pieces in + the next room, so frightened the orphans, that, pale and trembling with + emotion, they rushed into their own apartment, and fastened the door. We + must now explain the cause of Marshal Simon’s violent anger. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0153" id="link2HCH0153"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XLVIII. THE STUNG LION. + </h2> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>his was the scene, + the sound of which had so terrified Rose and Blanche. At first alone in + his chamber, in a state of exasperation difficult to describe, Marshal + Simon had begun to walk hastily up and down, his handsome, manly face + inflamed with rage, his eyes sparkling with indignation, while on his + broad forehead, crowned with short-cut hair that was now turning gray, + large veins, of which you might count the pulsations, were swollen almost + to bursting; and sometimes his thick, black moustache was curled with a + convulsive motion, not unlike that which is seen in the visage of a raging + lion. And even as the wounded lion, in its fury, harassed and tortured by + a thousand invisible darts, walks up and down its den with savage wrath, + so Marshal Simon paced the floor of his room, as if bounding from side to + side; sometimes he stooped, as though bending beneath the weight of his + anger; sometimes, on the contrary, he paused abruptly, drew himself up to + his full height, crossed his arms upon his vigorous chest, and with raised + brow, threatening and terrible look, seemed to defy some invisible enemy, + and murmur confused exclamations. Then he stood like a man of war and + battle in all his intrepid fire. + </p> + <p> + And now he stamped angrily with his foot, approached the chimney-piece, + and pulled the bell so violently that the bell-rope remained in his hand. + A servant hastened to attend to this precipitate summons. “Did you + not tell Dagobert that I wished to speak to him?” cried the marshal. + </p> + <p> + “I executed your grace’s orders, but M. Dagobert was + accompanying his son to the door, and—” + </p> + <p> + “Very well!” interrupted Marshal Simon, with an abrupt and + imperious gesture. + </p> + <p> + The servant went out, and his master continued to walk up and down with + impatient steps, crumpling, in his rage, a letter that he held in his left + hand. This letter had been innocently delivered by Spoil-sport, who, + seeing him come in, had run joyously to meet him. At length the door + opened, and Dagobert appeared. “I have been waiting for you a long + time, sirrah!” cried the marshal, in an irritated tone. + </p> + <p> + Dagobert, more pained than surprised at this burst of anger, which he + rightly attributed to the constant state of excitement in which the + marshal had now been for some time past, answered mildly: “I beg + your pardon, general, but I was letting out my son—” + </p> + <p> + “Read that, sir!” said the marshal abruptly, giving him the + letter. + </p> + <p> + While Dagobert was reading it, the marshal resumed, with growing anger, as + he kicked over a chair that stood in his way: “Thus, even in my own + house, there are wretches bribed to harass me with incredible + perseverance. Well! have you read it, sir?” + </p> + <p> + “It is a fresh insult to add to the others,” said Dagobert, + coolly, as he threw the letter into the fire. + </p> + <p> + “The letter is infamous—but it speaks the truth,” + replied the marshal. Dagobert looked at him in amazement. + </p> + <p> + “And can you tell who brought me this infamous letter” + continued the marshal. “One would think the devil had a hand in it—for + it was your dog!” + </p> + <p> + “Spoil-sport?” said Dagobert, in the utmost surprise. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” answered the marshal, bitterly; “it is no doubt a + joke of your invention.” + </p> + <p> + “I have no heart for joking, general,” answered Dagobert, more + and more saddened by the irritable state of the marshal; “I cannot + explain how it happened. Spoil-sport is a good carrier, and no doubt found + the letter in the house—” + </p> + <p> + “And who can have left it there? Am I surrounded by traitors? Do you + keep no watch? You, in whom I have every confidence?” + </p> + <p> + “Listen to me, general—” + </p> + <p> + But the marshal proceeded, without waiting to hear him. “What! I + have made war for five-and-twenty years, I have battled with armies, I + have struggled victoriously through the evil times of exile and + proscription, I have withstood blows from maces of iron—and now I am + to be killed with pins! Pursued into my own house, harassed with impunity, + worn out, tortured every minute, to gratify some unknown, miserable hate!—When + I say unknown, I am wrong—it is d’Aigrigny, the renegade, who + is at the bottom of all this, I am sure. I have in the world but one + enemy, and he is the man. I must finish with him, for I am weary of this—it + is too much.” + </p> + <p> + “But, general, remember he is a priest—” + </p> + <p> + “What do I care for that? Have I not seen him handle the sword? I + will yet make a soldier’s blood rise to the forehead of the traitor!” + </p> + <p> + “But, general—” + </p> + <p> + “I tell you, that I must be avenged on some one,” cried the + marshal, with an accent of the most violent exasperation; “I tell + you, that I mast find a living representative of these cowardly plots, + that I may at once make an end of him!—They press upon me from all + sides; they make my life a hell—you know it—and you do nothing + to save me from these tortures, which are killing me as by a slow fire. + Can I have no one in whom to trust?” + </p> + <p> + “General, I can’t let you say that,” replied Dagobert, + in a calm, but firm voice. + </p> + <p> + “And why not?” + </p> + <p> + “General, I can’t let you say that you have no one to trust + to. You might end perhaps in believing it, and then it would be even worse + for yourself, than for those who well know their devotion for you, and + would go through fire and water to serve you. I am one of them—and + you know it.” + </p> + <p> + These simple words, pronounced by Dagobert with a tone of deep conviction, + recalled the marshal to himself; for although his honorable and generous + character might from time to time be embittered by irritation and grief, + he soon recovered his natural equanimity. So, addressing Dagobert in a + less abrupt tone, he said to him, though still much agitated: “You + are right. I could never doubt your fidelity. But anger deprives me of my + senses. This infamous letter is enough to drive one mad. I am unjust, + ungrateful—yes, ungrateful—and to you!” + </p> + <p> + “Do not think of me, general. With a kind word at the end, you might + blow me up all the year round. But what has happened?” + </p> + <p> + The general’s countenance again darkened, as he answered rapidly: + “I am looked down upon, and despised!” + </p> + <p> + “You?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes I. After all,” resumed the marshal bitterly, “why + should I conceal from you this new wound? If I doubted you a moment, I owe + you some compensation, and you shall know all. For some time past, I + perceived that, when I meet any of my old companions in arms, they try to + avoid me—” + </p> + <p> + “What! was it to this that the anonymous letter alluded?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; and it spoke the truth,” replied the marshal, with a + sigh of grief and indignation. + </p> + <p> + “But it is impossible, general—you are so loved and respected—” + </p> + <p> + “Those are mere words; I speak of positive facts. When I appear, the + conversation is often interrupted. Instead of treating me as an old + comrade, they affect towards me a rigorously cold politeness. There are a + thousand little shades, a thousand trifles, which wound the heart, but + which it is impossible to notice—” + </p> + <p> + “What you are now saying, general, quite confounds me,” + replied Dagobert. “You assure me of it, and I am forced to believe + you.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, it is intolerable! I was resolved to ease my heart of it; so, + this morning, I went to General d’Havrincourt, who was colonel with + me in the Imperial Guard; he is honor and honesty itself. I went to him + with open heart. ‘I perceive,’ said I, ‘the coldness + that is shown me. Some calumny must be circulating to my disadvantage. + Tell me all about it. Knowing the attack, I shall be able to defend myself—’ + </p> + <p> + “Well, general?” + </p> + <p> + “D’Havrincourt remained impassible ceremoniously polite. To + all my questions he answered coldly: ‘I am not aware, my lord duke, + that any calumny has been circulated with regard to you.’—‘Do + not call me “my lord duke,” my dear D’Havrincourt; we + are old fellow-soldiers and friends, my honor is somewhat touchy, I + confess, and I find that you and our comrades do not receive me so + cordially, as in times past. You do not deny it; I see, I know, I feel it.’ + To all this D’Havrincourt answered, with the same coldness: ‘I + have never seen any one wanting in respect towards you.’—‘I + am not talking of respect,’ exclaimed I, as I clasped his hand + affectionately, though I observed that he but feebly returned the + pressure; ‘I speak of cordiality, confidence, which I once enjoyed, + while now I am treated like a stranger. Why is it? What has occasioned + this change?’—Still cold and reserved, he answered: ‘These + distinctions are so nice, marshal, that it is impossible for me to give + you any opinion on the subject.’—My heart swelled with grief + and anger. What was I to do? To quarrel with D’Havrincourt would + have been absurd. A sense of dignity forced me to break off the interview, + but it has only confirmed my fears. Thus,” added the marshal, + getting more and more animated, “thus am I fallen from the esteem to + which I am entitled, thus am I despised, without even knowing the cause! + Is it not odious? If they would only utter a charge against me—I + should at least be able to defend myself, and to find an answer. But no, + no! not even a word—only the cold politeness that is worse than any + insult. Oh! it is too much, too much! for all this comes but in addition + to other cares. What a life is mine since the death of my father! If I did + but find rest and happiness at home—but no! I come in, but to read + shameful letters; and still worse,” added the marshal, in a + heartrending tone, and after a moment’s hesitation, “to find + my children grow more and more indifferent towards me—“Yes,” + continued he, perceiving the amazement of Dagobert, “and yet they + know how much I love them!” + </p> + <p> + “Your daughters indifferent!” exclaimed Dagobert, in + astonishment. “You make them such a reproach?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! I do not blame them. They have hardly had time to know me.” + </p> + <p> + “Not had time to know you?” returned the soldier, in a tone of + remonstrance, and warming up in his turn. “Ah! of what did their + mother talk to them, except you? and I too! what could I teach your + children except to know and love you?” + </p> + <p> + “You take their part—that is natural—they love you + better than they do me,” said the marshal, with growing bitterness. + Dagobert felt himself so painfully affected, that he looked at the marshal + without answering. + </p> + <p> + “Yes!” continued the other; “yes! it may be base and + ungrateful—but no matter!—Twenty times I have felt jealous of + the affectionate confidence which my children display towards you, while + with me they seem always to be in fear. If their melancholy faces ever + grow animated for a moment, it is in talking to you, in seeing you; while + for me they have nothing but cold respect—and that kills me. Sure of + the affection of my children, I would have braved and surmounted every + difficulty—” Then, seeing that Dagobert rushed towards the + door which led to the chamber of Rose and Blanche, the marshal asked: + “Where are you going?” + </p> + <p> + “For your daughters, general.” + </p> + <p> + “What for?” + </p> + <p> + “To bring them face to face with you—to tell them: ‘My + children, your father thinks that you do not love him.’—I will + only say that—and then you will see.” + </p> + <p> + “Dagobert! I forbid you to do it,” cried the marshal, hastily. + </p> + <p> + “I don’t care for that—you have no right to be unjust to + the poor children,” said the soldier, as he again advanced towards + the door. + </p> + <p> + “Dagobert, I command you to remain here,” cried the marshal. + </p> + <p> + “Listen to me, general. I am your soldier, your inferior, your + servant, if you will,” said the old grenadier, roughly; “but + neither rank nor station shall keep me silent, when I have to defend your + daughters. All must be explained—I know but one way—and that + is to bring honest people face to face.” + </p> + <p> + If the marshal had not seized him by the arm, Dagobert would have entered + the apartment of the young girls. + </p> + <p> + “Remain!” said the marshal, so imperiously that the soldier, + accustomed to obedience, hung his head, and stood still. + </p> + <p> + “What would you do?” resumed the marshal. “Tell my + children, that I think they do not love me? induce them to affect a + tenderness they do not feel—when it is not their fault, but mine?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, general!” said Dagobert, in a tone of despair, “I + no longer feel anger, in hearing you speak thus of your children. It is + such grief, that it breaks my heart!” + </p> + <p> + Touched by the expression of the soldier’s countenance, the marshal + continued, less abruptly: “Come, I may be wrong; and yet I ask you, + without bitterness or jealousy, are not my children more confiding, more + familiar, with you than with me?” + </p> + <p> + “God bless me, general!” cried Dagobert; “if you come to + that, they are more familiar with Spoil-sport than with either of us. You + are their father; and, however kind a father may be, he must always + command some respect. Familiar with me! I should think so. A fine story! + What the devil should they respect in me, who, except that I am six feet + high, and wear a moustache, might pass for the old woman that nursed them?—and + then I must say, that, even before the death of your worthy father, you + were sad and full of thought; the children have remarked that; and what + you take for coldness on their part, is, I am sure, anxiety for you. Come, + general; you are not just. You complain, because they love you too much.” + </p> + <p> + “I complain, because I suffer,” said the marshal, in an agony + of excitement. “I alone know my sufferings.” + </p> + <p> + “They must indeed be grievous, general,” said Dagobert, + carried further than he would otherwise have gone by his attachment for + the orphans, “since those who love you feel them so cruelly.” + </p> + <p> + “What, sir! more reproaches?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, general, reproaches,” cried Dagobert. “Your + children have the right to complain of you, since you accuse them so + unjustly.” + </p> + <p> + “Sir,” said the marshal, scarcely able to contain himself, + “this is enough—this is too much!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes! it is enough,” replied Dagobert, with rising + emotion. “Why defend unfortunate children, who can only love and + submit? Why defend them against your unhappy blindness?” + </p> + <p> + The marshal started with anger and impatience, but then replied, with a + forced calmness: “I needs must remember all that I owe you—and + I will not forget it, say what you will.” + </p> + <p> + “But, general,” cried Dagobert, “why will you not let me + fetch your children?” + </p> + <p> + “Do you not see that this scene is killing me?” cried the + exasperated marshal. “Do you not understand, that I will not have my + children witness what I suffer? A father’s grief has its dignity, + sir; and you ought to feel for and respect it.” + </p> + <p> + “Respect it? no—not when it is founded on injustice!” + </p> + <p> + “Enough, sir—enough!” + </p> + <p> + “And not content with tormenting yourself,” cried Dagobert, + unable any longer to control his feelings, “do you know what you + will do? You will make your children die of sorrow. Was it for this, that + I brought them to you from the depths of Siberia?” + </p> + <p> + “More reproaches!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; for the worst ingratitude towards me, is to make your children + unhappy.” + </p> + <p> + “Leave the room, sir!” cried the marshal, quite beside + himself, and so terrible with rage and grief, that Dagobert, regretting + that he had gone so far, resumed: “I was wrong, general. I have + perhaps been wanting in respect to you—forgive me—but—” + </p> + <p> + “I forgive you—only leave me!” said the marshal, hardly + restraining himself. + </p> + <p> + “One word, general—” + </p> + <p> + “I entreat you to leave me—I ask it as a service—is that + enough?” said the marshal, with renewed efforts to control the + violence of his emotions. + </p> + <p> + A deadly paleness succeeded to the high color which during this painful + scene had inflamed the cheeks of the marshal. Alarmed at this symptom, + Dagobert redoubled his entreaties. “I implore you, general,” + said he, in an agitated mice, “to permit me for one moment—” + </p> + <p> + “Since you will have it so, sir, I must be the one to leave,” + said the marshal, making a step towards the door. + </p> + <p> + These words were said in such a manner, that Dagobert could no longer + resist. He hung his head in despair, looked for a moment in silent + supplication at the marshal, and then, as the latter seemed yielding to a + new movement of rage, the soldier slowly quitted the room. + </p> + <p> + A few minutes had scarcely elapsed since the departure of Dagobert, when + the marshal, who, after a long and gloomy silence, had repeatedly drawn + near the door of his daughters’ apartment with a mixture of + hesitation and anguish, suddenly made a violent effort, wiped the cold + sweat from his brow, and entered the chamber in which Rose and Blanche had + taken refuge. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0154" id="link2HCH0154"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XLIX. THE TEST. + </h2> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">D</span>agobert was right + in defending his children, as he paternally called Rose and Blanche, and + yet the apprehensions of the marshal with regard to the coldness of his + daughters, were unfortunately justified by appearances. As he had told his + father, unable to explain the sad, and almost trembling embarrassment, + which his daughters felt in his presence, he sought in vain for the cause + of what he termed their indifference. Now reproaching himself bitterly for + not concealing from them his grief at the death of their mother, he feared + he might have given them to understand that they would be unable to + console him; now supposing that he had not shown himself sufficiently + tender, and that had chilled them with his military sternness; and now + repeating with bitter regret, that, having always lived away from them, he + must be always a stranger to them. In a word, the most unlikely + suppositions presented themselves by turns to his mind, and whenever such + seeds of doubt, suspicion, or fear, are blended with a warm affection, + they will sooner or later develop themselves with fatal effect. Yet, + notwithstanding this fancied coldness, from which he suffered so much, the + affection of the marshal for his daughters was so true and deep, that the + thought of again quitting them caused the hesitations which were the + torment of his life, and provoked an incessant struggle between his + paternal love and the duty he held most sacred. + </p> + <p> + The injurious calumnies, which had been so skillfully propagated, that men + of honor, like his old brothers in arms, were found to attach some credit + to them, had been spread with frightful pertinacity by the friends of the + Princess de Saint-Dizier. We shall describe hereafter the meaning and + object of these odious reports, which, joined with so many other fatal + injuries, had filled up the measure of the marshal’s indignation. + Inflamed with anger, excited almost to madness by this incessant “stabbing + with pins” (as he had himself called it), and offended at some of + Dagobert’s words, he had spoken harshly to him. But, after the + soldier’s departure, when left to reflect in silence, the marshal + remembered the warm and earnest expressions of the defender of his + children, and doubt crossed his mind, as to the reality of the coldness of + which he accused them. Therefore, having taken a terrible resolution in + case a new trial should confirm his desponding doubts, he entered, as we + before said, his, daughters’ chamber. The discussion with Dagobert + had been so loud, that the sound of the voices had confusedly reached the + ears of the two sisters, even after they had taken refuge in their + bedroom. So that, on the arrival of their father, their pale faces + betrayed their fear and anxiety. At sight of the marshal, whose + countenance was also much agitated, the girls rose respectfully, but + remained close together, trembling in each other’s arms. And yet + there was neither anger nor severity on their father’s face—only + a deep, almost supplicating grief, which seemed to say: “My + children, I suffer—I have come to you—console me, love me! or + I shall die!” + </p> + <p> + The marshal’s countenance was at this moment so expressive, that, + the first impulse of fear once surmounted, the sisters were about to throw + themselves into his arms; but remembering the recommendations of the + anonymous letter, which told them how painful any effusion of their + tenderness was to their father, they exchanged a rapid glance, and + remained motionless. By a cruel fatality, the marshal at this moment + burned to open his arms to his children. He looked at them with love, he + even made a slight movement as if to call them to him; but he would not + attempt more, for fear of meeting with no response. Still the poor + children, paralyzed by perfidious counsels, remained mute, motionless, + trembling! + </p> + <p> + “It is all over,” thought he, as he gazed upon them. “No + chord of sympathy stirs in their bosom. Whether I go—-whether I + remain—matters not to them. No, I am nothing to these children—since, + at this awful moment, when they see me perhaps for the last time, no + filial instinct tells them that their affection might save me still!” + </p> + <p> + During these terrible reflections, the marshal had not taken his eyes off + his children, and his manly countenance assumed an expression at once so + touching and mournful—his look revealed so painfully the tortures of + his despairing soul—that Rose and Blanche, confused, alarmed, but + yielding together to a spontaneous movement, threw themselves on their + father’s neck, and covered him with tears and caresses. Marshal + Simon had not spoken a word; his daughters had not uttered a sound; and + yet all three had at length understood one another. A sympathetic shock + had electrified and mingled those three hearts. Vain fears, false doubts, + lying counsel, all had yielded to the irresistible emotion which had + brought the daughters to their father’s arms. A sudden revelation + gave them faith, at the fatal moment when incurable suspicion was about to + separate them forever. + </p> + <p> + In a second, the marshal felt all this, but words failed him. Pale, + bewildered, kissing the brows, the hair, the hands of his daughters, + weeping, sighing, smiling all in turn, he was wild, delirious, drunk with + happiness. At length, he exclaimed: “I have found them—or + rather, I have never lost them. They loved me, and did not dare to tell me + so. I overawed them. And I thought it was my fault. Heavens! what good + that does! what strength, what heart, what hope!—Ha! ha!” + cried he, laughing and weeping at the same time, whilst he covered his + children with caresses; “they may despise me now, they may harass me + now—I defy them all. My own blue eyes! my sweet blue eyes! look at + me well, and inspire me with new life.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, father! you love us then as much as we love you?” cried + Rose, with enchanting simplicity. + </p> + <p> + “And we may often, very often, perhaps every day, throw ourselves on + your neck, embrace you, and prove how glad we are to be with you?” + </p> + <p> + “Show you, dear father, all the store of love we were heaping up in + our hearts—so sad, alas! that we could not spend it upon you?” + </p> + <p> + “Tell you aloud all that we think in secret?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes—you may do so—you may do so,” said Marshal + Simon, faltering with joy; “what prevented you, my children? But no; + do not answer; enough of the past!—I know all, I understand all. You + misinterpreted my gloom, and it made you sad; I, in my turn, + misinterpreted your sadness. But never mind; I scarcely know what I am + saying to you. I only think of looking at you—and it dazzles me—it + confuses me—it is the dizziness of joy!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, look at us, father! look into our eyes, into our hearts,” + cried Rose, with rapture. + </p> + <p> + “And you will read there, happiness for us, and love for you, sir!” + added Blanche. + </p> + <p> + “Sir, sir!” said the marshal, in a tone of affectionate + reproach; “what does that mean? Will you call me father, if you + please?” + </p> + <p> + “Dear father, your hand!” said Blanche, as she took it, and + placed it on her heart. + </p> + <p> + “Dear father, your hand!” said Rose, as she took the other + hand of the marshal. “Do you believe now in our love and happiness?” + she continued. + </p> + <p> + It is impossible to describe the charming expression of filial pride in + the divine faces of the girls, as their father, slightly pressing their + virgin bosoms, seemed to count with delight the joyous pulsations of their + hearts. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes! happiness and affection can alone make the heart beat + thus!” cried the marshal. + </p> + <p> + A hoarse sob, heard in the direction of the open door, made the three turn + round, and there they saw the tall figure of Dagobert, with the black nose + of Spoil-sport reaching to his master’s knee. The soldier, drying + his eyes and moustache with his little blue cotton handkerchief, remained + motionless as the god Terminus. When he could speak, he addressed himself + to the marshal, and, shaking his head, muttered, in a hoarse voice, for + the good man was swallowing his tears: “Did I not tell you so?” + </p> + <p> + “Silence!” said the marshal, with a sign of intelligence. + “You were a better father than myself, my old friend. Come and kiss + them! I shall not be jealous.” + </p> + <p> + The marshal stretched out his hand to the soldier, who pressed it + cordially, whilst the two sisters threw themselves on his neck, and + Spoil-sport, according to custom wishing to have his share in the general + joy, raised himself on his hind legs, and rested his fore-paws against his + master’s back. There was a moment of profound silence. The celestial + felicity enjoyed during that moment, by the marshal, his daughters, and + the soldier, was interrupted by the barking of Spoil-sort, who suddenly + quitted the attitude of a biped. The happy group separated, looked round, + and saw Loony’s stupid face. He looked even duller than usual, as he + stood quite still in the doorway, staring with wide stretched eyes, and + holding a feather-broom under his arm, and in his hand the ever-present + basket of wood. + </p> + <p> + Nothing makes one so gay as happiness; and, though this grotesque figure + appeared at a very unseasonable moment, it was received with frank + laughter from the blooming lips of Rose and Blanche. Having made the + marshal’s daughters laugh, after their long sadness, Loony at once + acquired a claim to the indulgence of the marshal, who said to him, good + humoredly: “What do you want, my lad?” + </p> + <p> + “It’s not me, my lord duke!” answered Loony, laying his + hand on his breast, as if it were taking a vow, so that his feather-brush + fell down from under his arm. The laughter of the girls redoubled. + </p> + <p> + “It is not you?” said the marshal. + </p> + <p> + “Here! Spoil-sport!” Dagobert called, for the honest dog + seemed to have a secret dislike for the pretended idiot, and approached + him with an angry air. + </p> + <p> + “No, my lord duke, it is not me!” resumed Loony. “It is + the footman who told me to tell M. Dagobert, when I brought up the wood to + tell my lord duke, as I was coming up with the basket, that M. Robert + wants to see him.” + </p> + <p> + The girls laughed still more at this new stupidity. But, at the name of + Robert, Marshal Simon started. + </p> + <p> + M. Robert was the secret emissary of Rodin, with regard to the possible, + but adventurous, enterprise of attempting the liberation of Napoleon II. + After a moment’s silence, the marshal, whose face was still radiant + with joy and happiness, said to Loony: “Beg M. Robert to wait for me + a moment in my study.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, my lord duke,” answered Loony, bowing almost to the + ground. + </p> + <p> + The simpleton withdrew, and the marshal said to his daughters, in a joyous + tone, “You see, that, in a moment like this, one does not leave one’s + children, even for M. Robert.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! that’s right, father!” cried Blanche, gayly; + “for I was already very angry with this M. Robert.” + </p> + <p> + “Have you pen and paper at hand?” asked the marshal. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, father; there on the table,” said Rose, hastily, as she + pointed to a little desk near one of the windows, towards which the + marshal now advanced rapidly. + </p> + <p> + From motives of delicacy, the girls remained where they were, close to the + fireplace, and caressed each other tenderly, as if to congratulate + themselves in private on the unexpected happiness of this day. + </p> + <p> + The marshal seated himself at the desk, and made a sign to Dagobert to + draw near. + </p> + <p> + While he wrote rapidly a few words in a firm hand, he said to the soldier + with a smile, in so low a tone that it was impossible for his daughters to + hear: “Do you know what I had almost resolved upon, before entering + this room?” + </p> + <p> + “What, general?” + </p> + <p> + “To blow my brains out. It is to my children that I owe my life.” + And the marshal continued writing. + </p> + <p> + Dagobert started at this communication, and then replied, also in a + whisper: “It would not have been with your pistols. I took off the + caps.” + </p> + <p> + The marshal turned round hastily, and looked at him with an air of + surprise. But the soldier only nodded his head affirmatively, and added: + “Thank heaven, we have now done with all those ideas!” + </p> + <p> + The marshal’s only answer was to glance at his children, his eyes + swimming with tenderness, and sparkling with delight; then, sealing the + note he had written, he gave it to the soldier, and said to him, “Give + that to M. Robert. I will see him to-morrow.” + </p> + <p> + Dagobert took the letter, and went out. Returning towards his daughters, + the marshal joyfully extended his arms to them, and said, “Now, + young ladies, two nice kisses for having sacrificed M. Robert to you. Have + I not earned them?” And Rose and Blanche threw themselves on their + father’s neck. + </p> + <p> + About the time that these events were taking place at Paris, two + travellers, wide apart from each other, exchanged mysterious thoughts + through the breadth of space. + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:65%;"> + <img src="images/30327m.jpg" alt="30327m” width=" /><br /> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/30327.jpg"><i>Original</i></a> + </h5> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0174" id="link2H_4_0174"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + BOOK XI. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + L. The Ruins of the Abbey of St. John the Baptist LI. The + Calvary LII. The Council LIII. Happiness LIV. Duty LV. The + Improvised Hospital LVI. Hydrophobia LVII. The Guardian + Angel LVIII. Ruin LIX. Memories LX. The Ordeal LXI. Ambition + LXII. To a Socius, a Socius and a Half LXIII. Faringhea’s + Affection LXIV. An Evening at St. Colombe’s LXV. The Nuptial + Bed LXVI. A Duel to the Death LXVII. A Message LXVIII. The + First of June +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_EPIL" id="link2H_EPIL"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + EPILOGUE. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I. Four Years After II. The Redemption +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0155" id="link2HCH0155"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER L. THE RUINS OF THE ABBEY OF ST. JOHN THE BAPTIST. + </h2> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>he sun is fast + sinking. In the depths of an immense piny wood, in the midst of profound + solitude, rise the ruins of an abbey, once sacred to St. John the Baptist. + Ivy, moss, and creeping plants, almost entirely conceal the stones, now + black with age. Some broken arches, some walls pierced with ovals, still + remain standing, visible on the dark background of the thick wood. Looking + down upon this mass of ruins from a broken pedestal, half-covered with + ivy, a mutilated, but colossal statue of stone still keeps its place. This + statue is strange and awful. It represents a headless human figure. Clad + in the antique toga, it holds in its hand a dish and on that dish is a + head. This head is its own. It is the statue of St. John the Baptist and + Martyr, put to death by wish of Herodias. + </p> + <p> + The silence around is solemn. From time to time, however, is heard the + dull rustling of the enormous branches of the pine-trees, shaken by the + wind. Copper-colored clouds, reddened by the setting sun, pass slowly over + the forest, and are reflected in the current of a brook, which, deriving + its source from a neighboring mass of rocks, flows through the ruins. The + water flows, the clouds pass on, the ancient trees tremble, the breeze + murmurs. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly, through the shadow thrown by the overhanging wood, which + stretches far into endless depths, a human form appears. It is a woman. + She advances slowly towards the ruins. She has reached them. She treads + the once sacred ground. This woman is pale, her look sad, her long robe + floats on the wind, her feet covered with dust. She walks with difficulty + and pain. A block of stone is placed near the stream, almost at the foot + of the statue of John the Baptist. Upon this stone she sinks breathless + and exhausted, worn out with fatigue. And yet, for many days, many years, + many centuries, she has walked on unwearied. + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:65%;"> + <img src="images/30333m.jpg" alt="30333m” width=" /><br /> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/30333.jpg"><i>Original</i></a> + </h5> + <p> + For the first time, she feels an unconquerable sense of lassitude. For the + first time, her feet begin to fail her. For the first time, she, who + traversed, with firm and equal footsteps, the moving lava of torrid + deserts, while whole caravans were buried in drifts of fiery sand—who + passed, with steady and disdainful tread, over the eternal snows of Arctic + regions, over icy solitudes, in which no other human being could live—who + had been spared by the devouring flames of conflagrations, and by the + impetuous waters of torrents—she, in brief, who for centuries had + had nothing in common with humanity—for the first time suffers + mortal pain. + </p> + <p> + Her feet bleed, her limbs ache with fatigue, she is devoured by burning + thirst. She feels these infirmities, yet scarcely dares to believe them + real. Her joy would be too immense! But now, her throat becomes dry, + contracted, all on fire. She sees the stream, and throws herself on her + knees, to quench her thirst in that crystal current, transparent as a + mirror. What happens then? Hardly have her fevered lips touched the fresh, + pure water, than, still kneeling, supported on her hands, she suddenly + ceases to drink, and gazes eagerly on the limpid stream. Forgetting the + thirst which devours her, she utters a loud cry—a cry of deep, + earnest, religious joy, like a note of praise and infinite gratitude to + heaven. In that deep mirror, she perceives that she has grown older. + </p> + <p> + In a few days, a few hours, a few minutes, perhaps in a single second, she + has attained the maturity of age. She, who for more than eighteen + centuries has been as a woman of twenty, carrying through successive + generations the load of her imperishable youth—she has grown old, + and may, perhaps, at length, hope to die. Every minute of her life may now + bring her nearer to the last home! Transported by that ineffable hope, she + rises, and lifts her eyes to heaven, clasping her hands in an attitude of + fervent prayer. Then her eyes rest on the tall statue of stone, + representing St. John. The head, which the martyr carries in his hand, + seems, from beneath its half-closed granite eyelid, to cast upon the + Wandering Jewess a glance of commiseration and pity. And it was she, + Herodias who, in the cruel intoxication of a pagan festival, demanded the + murder of the saint! And it is at the foot of the martyr’s image, + that, for the first time, the immortality, which weighed on her for so + many centuries, seems likely to find a term! + </p> + <p> + “Oh, impenetrable mystery! oh, divine hope!” she cries. + “The wrath of heaven is at length appeased. The hand of the Lord + brings me to the feet of the blessed martyr, and I begin once more to feel + myself a human creature. And yet it was to avenge his death, that the same + heaven condemned me to eternal wanderings! + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Lord! grant that I may not be the only one forgiven. May he—the + artisan, who like me, daughter of a king, wanders on for centuries—likewise + hope to reach the end of that immense journey! + </p> + <p> + “Where is he, Lord? where is he? Hast thou deprived me of the power + once bestowed, to see and hear him through the vastness of intervening + space? Oh, in this mighty moment, restore me that divine gift—for + the more I feel these human infirmities, which I hail and bless as the end + of my eternity of ills, the more my sight loses the power to traverse + immensity, and my ear to catch the sound of that wanderer’s accent, + from the other extremity of the globe?” + </p> + <p> + Night had fallen, dark and stormy. The wind rose in the midst of the great + pine-trees. Behind their black summits, through masses of dark cloud, + slowly sailed the silver disk of the moon. The invocation of the Wandering + Jewess had perhaps been heard. Suddenly, her eyes closed—with hands + clasped together, she remained kneeling in the heart of the ruins—motionless + as a statue upon a tomb. And then she had a wondrous dream! + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0156" id="link2HCH0156"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER LI. THE CALVARY. + </h2> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>his was the vision + of Herodias: On the summit of a high, steep, rocky mountain, there stands + a cross. The sun is sinking, even as when the Jewess herself, worn out + with fatigue, entered the ruins of St. John’s Abbey. The great + figure on the cross—which looks down from this Calvary, on the + mountain, and on the vast, dreary plain beyond—stands out white and + pale against the dark, blue clouds, which stretch across the heavens, and + assume a violent tint towards the horizon. There, where the setting sun + has left a long track of lurid light, almost of the hue of blood—as + far as the eye can reach, no vegetation appears on the surface of the + gloomy desert, covered with sand and stones, like the ancient bed of some + dried-up ocean. A silence as of death broods over this desolate tract. + Sometimes, gigantic black vultures, with red unfeathered necks, luminous + yellow eyes, stooping from their lofty flight in the midst of these + solitudes, come to make their bloody feast on the prey they have carried + off from less uncultivated regions. + </p> + <p> + How, then, did this Calvary, this place of prayer, come to be erected so + far from the abodes of men? This Calvary was prepared at a great cost by a + repentant sinner. He had done much harm to his fellow-creatures, and, in + the hope of obtaining pardon for his crimes, he had climbed this mountain + on his knees, and become a hermit, and lived there till his death, at the + foot of this cross, only sheltered by a roof of thatch, now long since + swept away by the wind. The sun is still sinking. The sky becomes darker. + The luminous lines on the horizon grow fainter and fainter, like heated + bars of iron that gradually grow cool. Suddenly, on the eastern side of + the Calvary, is heard the noise of some falling stones, which, loosened + from the side of the mountain, roll down rebounding to its base. These + stones have been loosened by the foot of a traveller, who, after + traversing the plain below, has, during the last hour, been climbing the + steep ascent. He is not yet visible—but one hears the echo of his + tread—slow, steady, and firm. At length, he reaches the top of the + mountain, and his tall figure stands out against the stormy sky. + </p> + <p> + The traveller is pale as the great figure on the cross. On his broad + forehead a black line extends from one temple to the other. It is the + cobbler of Jerusalem. The poor artisan, who hardened by misery, injustice + and oppression, without pity for the suffering of the Divine Being who + bore the cross, repulsed him from his dwelling, and bade him: “Go + ON! GO ON! GO ON!” And, from that day, the avenging Deity has in his + turn said to the artisan of Jerusalem: “GO ON! GO ON! GO ON!” + </p> + <p> + And he has gone on, without end or rest. Nor did the divine vengeance stop + there. From time to time death has followed the steps of the wanderer, and + innumerable graves have been even as mile-stones on his fatal path. And if + ever he found periods of repose in the midst of his infinite grief, it was + when the hand of the Lord led him into deep solitudes, like that where he + now dragged his steps along. In passing over that dreary plain, or + climbing to that rude Calvary, he at least heard no more the funeral + knell, which always, always sounded behind him in every inhabited region. + </p> + <p> + All day long, even at this hour, plunged in the black abyss of his + thoughts, following the fatal track—going whither he was guided by + the invisible hand, with head bowed on his breast, and eyes fixed upon the + ground, the wanderer had passed over the plain, and ascended the mountain, + without once looking at the sky—without even perceiving the Calvary—without + seeing the image upon the cross. He thought of the last descendants of his + race. He felt, by the sinking of his heart, that great perils continued to + threaten him. And in the bitterness of a despair, wild and deep as the + ocean, the cobbler of Jerusalem seated himself at the foot of the cross. + At this moment a farewell ray of the setting sun, piercing the dark mass + of clouds, threw a refection upon the Calvary, vivid as a conflagration’s + glare. The Jew rested his forehead upon his hand. His long hair, shaken by + the evening breeze, fell over his pale face—when sweeping it back + from his brow, he started with surprise—he, who had long ceased to + wonder at anything. With eager glance he contemplated the long lock of + hair that he held between his fingers. That hair, until now black as + night, had become gray. He also, like unto Herodias, was growing older. + </p> + <p> + His progress towards old age, stopped for eighteen hundred years, had + resumed its course. Like the Wandering Jewess, he might henceforth hope + for the rest of the grave. Throwing himself on his knees, he stretched his + hands towards heaven, to ask for the explanation of the mystery which + filled him with hope. Then, for the first time, his eyes rested on the + Crucified One, looking down upon the Calvary, even as the Wandering Jewess + had fixed her gaze on the granite eyelids of the Blessed Martyr. + </p> + <p> + The Saviour, his head bowed under the weight of his crown of thorns, + seemed from the cross to view with pity, and pardon the artisan, who for + so many centuries had felt his curse—and who, kneeling, with his + body thrown backward in an attitude of fear and supplication, now lifted + towards the crucifix his imploring hands. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Messiah!” cried the Jew, “the avenging arm of + heaven brings me back to the foot of this heavy cross, which thou didst + bear, when, stopping at the door of my poor dwelling, thou wert repulsed + with merciless harshness, and I said unto thee: ‘Go on! go on!’—After + my long life of wanderings, I am again before this cross, and my hair + begins to whiten. Oh Lord! in thy divine mercy, hast thou at length + pardoned me? Have I reached the term of my endless march? Will thy + celestial clemency grant me at length the repose of the sepulchre, which, + until now, alas! has ever fled before me?—Oh! if thy mercy should + descend upon me, let it fall likewise upon that woman, whose woes are + equal to mine own! Protect also the last descendants of my race! What will + be their fate? Already, Lord, one of them—the only one that + misfortune had perverted—has perished from the face of the earth. Is + it for this that my hair grows gray? Will my crime only be expiated when + there no longer remains in this world one member of our accursed race? Or + does this proof of thy powerful goodness, Lord, which restores me to the + condition of humanity, serve also as a sign of the pardon and happiness of + my family? Will they at length triumph over the perils which beset them? + Will they, accomplishing the good which their ancestor designed for his + fellow creatures, merit forgiveness both for themselves and me? Or will + they, inexorably condemned as the accursed scions of an accursed stock, + expiate the original stain of my detested crime? + </p> + <p> + “Oh, tell me—tell me, gracious Lord! shall I be forgiven with + them, or will they be punished with me?” + </p> + <p> + The twilight gave place to a dark and stormy night, yet the Jew continued + to pray, kneeling at the foot of the cross. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0157" id="link2HCH0157"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER LII. THE COUNCIL. + </h2> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>he following scene + took place at Saint-Dizier House, two days after the reconciliation of + Marshal Simon with his daughters. The princess is listening with the most + profound attention to the words of Rodin. The reverend father, according + to his habit, stands leaning against the mantelpiece, with his hands + thrust into the pockets of his old brown great-coat. His thick, dirty + shoes have left their mark on the ermine hearth-rug. A deep sense of + satisfaction is impressed on the Jesuit’s cadaverous countenance. + Princess de Saint-Dizier, dressed with that sort of modest elegance which + becomes a mother of the church, keeps her eyes fixed on Rodin—for + the latter has completely supplanted Father d’Aigrigny in the good + graces of this pious lady. The coolness, audacity lofty intelligence, and + rough and imperious character of the ex-socius have overawed this proud + woman, and inspired her with a sincere admiration. Even his filthy habits + and often brutal repartees have their charm for her, and she now prefers + them to the exquisite politeness and perfumed elegance of the accomplished + Father d’Aigrigny. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, madame,” said Rodin, in a sanctified tone, for these + people do not take off their masks even with their accomplices, “yes, + madame, we have excellent news from our house at St. Herem. M. Hardy, the + infidel, the freethinker, has at length entered the pale of the holy Roman + Catholic and Apostolic Church.” Rodin pronounced these last word + with a nasal twang, and the devout lady bowed her head respectfully. + </p> + <p> + “Grace has at length touched the heart of this impious man,” + continued Rodin, “and so effectually that, in his ascetic + enthusiasm, he has already wished to take the vows which will bind him + forever to our divine Order.” + </p> + <p> + “So soon, father?” said the princess, in astonishment. + </p> + <p> + “Our statutes are opposed to this precipitation, unless in the case + of a penitent in articulo mortis—on the very gasp of death—should + such a person consider it necessary for his salvation to die in the habit + of our Order, and leave us all his wealth for the greater glory of the + Lord.” + </p> + <p> + “And is M. Hardy in so dangerous a condition, father?” + </p> + <p> + “He has a violent fever. After so many successive calamities, which + have miraculously brought him into the path of salvation,” said + Rodin, piously, “his frail and delicate constitution is almost + broken up, morally and physically. Austerities, macerations, and the + divine joys of ecstasy, will probably hasten his passage to eternal life, + and in a few clays,” said the priest, shaking his head with a solemn + air, “perhaps—” + </p> + <p> + “So soon as that, father?” + </p> + <p> + “It is almost certain. I have therefore made use of my + dispensations, to receive the dear penitent, as in articulo mortis, a + member of our divine Company, to which, in the usual course, he has made + over all his possessions, present and to come—so that now he can + devote himself entirely to the care of his soul, which will be one victim + more rescued from the claws of Satan.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, father!” cried the lady, in admiration; “it is a + miraculous conversion. Father d’Aigrigny told me how you had to + contend against the influence of Abbe Gabriel.” + </p> + <p> + “The Abbe Gabriel,” replied Rodin, “has been punished + for meddling with what did not concern him. I have procured his + suspension, and he has been deprived of his curacy. I hear that he now + goes about the cholera hospitals to administer Christian consolation; we + cannot oppose that—but this universal comforter is of the true + heretical stamp.” + </p> + <p> + “He is a dangerous character, no doubt,” answered the + princess, “for he has considerable influence over other men. It must + have needed all your admirable and irresistible eloquence to combat the + detestable counsels of this Abbe Gabriel, who had taken it into his head + to persuade M. Hardy to return to the life of the world. Really, father, + you are a second St. Chrysostom.” + </p> + <p> + “Tut, tut, madame!” said Rodin, abruptly, for he was very + little sensible to flattery; “keep that for others.” + </p> + <p> + “I tell you that you’re a second St. Chrysostom father,” + repeated the princess with enthusiasm; “like him, you deserve the + name of Golden Mouth.” + </p> + <p> + “Stuff, madame!” said Rodin, brutally, shrugging his + shoulders; “my lips are too pale, my teeth too black, for a mouth of + gold. You must be only joking.” + </p> + <p> + “But, father—” + </p> + <p> + “No, madame, you will not catch old birds with chaff,” replied + Rodin, harshly. “I hate compliments, and I never pay them.” + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:65%;"> + <img src="images/30341m.jpg" alt="30341m” width=" /><br /> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/30341.jpg"><i>Original</i></a> + </h5> + <p> + “Your modesty must pardon me, father,” said the princess, + humbly; “I could not resist the desire to express to you my + admiration, for, as you almost predicted, or at least foresaw, two members + of the Rennepont family, have, within the last few months, resigned all + claim to the inheritance.” + </p> + <p> + Rodin looked at Madame de Saint-Dizier with a softened and approving air, + as he heard her thus describe the position of the two defunct claimants. + For, in Rodin’s view of the case, M. Hardy, in consequence of his + donation and his suicidal asceticism, belonged no longer to this world. + </p> + <p> + The lady continued: “One of these men, a wretched artisan, has been + led to his ruin by the exaggeration of his vices. You have brought the + other into the path of salvation, by carrying out his loving and tender + qualities. Honor, then to your foresight, father! for you said that you + would make use of the passions to attain your end.” + </p> + <p> + “Do not boast too soon,” said Rodin, impatiently. “Have + you forgotten your niece, and the Hindoo, and the daughters of Marshal + Simon? Have they also made a Christian end, or resigned their claim to + share in this inheritance?” + </p> + <p> + “No, doubtless.” + </p> + <p> + “Hence, you see, madame, we should not lose time in congratulating + ourselves on the past, but make ready for the future. The great day + approaches. The first of June is not far off. Heaven grant we may not see + the four surviving members of the family continue to live impenitent up to + that period, and so take possession of this enormous property—the + source of perdition in their hands—but productive of the glory of + the Church in the hands of our Company!” + </p> + <p> + “True, father!” + </p> + <p> + “By the way, you were to see your lawyers on the subject of your + niece?” + </p> + <p> + “I have seen them, father. However uncertain may be the chance of + which I spoke, it is worth trying. I shall know to-day, I hope, if it is + legally possible.” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps then,—in the new condition of life to which she would + be reduced, we might find means to effect her conversion,” said + Rodin, with a strange and hideous smile; “until now, since she has + been so fatally brought in contact with the Oriental, the happiness of + these two pagans appears bright and changeless as the diamond. Nothing + bites into it, not even Faringhea’s tooth. Let us hope that the Lord + will wreak justice on their vain and guilty felicity!” + </p> + <p> + This conversation was here interrupted by Father d’Aigrigny, who + entered the room with an air of triumph, and exclaimed, “Victory!” + </p> + <p> + “What do you say”’ asked the princess. + </p> + <p> + “He is gone—last night,” said Father d’Aigrigny. + </p> + <p> + “Who?” said Rodin. + </p> + <p> + “Marshal Simon,” replied the abbe. + </p> + <p> + “At last!” said Rodin, unable to hide his joy. + </p> + <p> + “It was no doubt his interview with General d’Havrincourt + which filled up the measure,” cried the princess, “for I know + he had a long conversation with the general, who like so many others, + believed the reports in circulation. All means are good against the + impious!” added the princess, by way of moral. + </p> + <p> + “Have you any details?” asked Rodin. + </p> + <p> + “I have just left Robert,” said Father d’Aigrigny. + “His age and description agree with the marshal’s, and the + latter travels with his papers. Only one thing has greatly surprised your + emissary.” + </p> + <p> + “What is that?” said Rodin. + </p> + <p> + “Until now, he had always to contend with the hesitations of the + marshal, and had moreover noticed his gloomy and desponding air. + Yesterday, on the contrary, he found him so bright with happiness, that he + could not help asking him the cause of the alteration.” + </p> + <p> + “Well?” said Rodin and the princess together, both extremely + surprised. + </p> + <p> + “The marshal answered: ‘I am indeed the happiest man in the + world; for I am going joyfully to accomplish a sacred duty!” + </p> + <p> + The three actors in this scene looked at each other in silence. + </p> + <p> + “And what can have produced this sudden change in the mind of the + marshal?” said the princess, with a pensive air. “We rather + reckon on sorrow and every kind of irritation to urge him to engage in + this adventurous enterprise.” + </p> + <p> + “I cannot make it out,” said Rodin, reflecting; “but no + matter—he is gone. We must not lose a moment, to commence operations + on his daughters. Has he taken that infernal soldier with him?” + </p> + <p> + “No,” said Father d’Aigrigny; “unfortunately, he + has not done so. Warned by the past, he will redouble his precautions; and + a man, whom we might have used against him at a pinch, has just been taken + with the contagion.” + </p> + <p> + “Who is that?” asked the princess. + </p> + <p> + “Morok. I could count upon him anywhere and for anything. He is lost + to us; for, should he recover from the cholera, I fear he will fall a + victim to a horrible and incurable disease.” + </p> + <p> + “How so?” + </p> + <p> + “A few days ago, he was bitten by one of the mastiffs of his + menagerie, and, the next day, the dog showed symptoms of hydrophobia.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! it is dreadful,” cried the princess; “and where is + this unfortunate man?” + </p> + <p> + “He has been taken to one of the temporary hospitals established in + Paris, for at present he has only been attacked with cholera. It is doubly + unfortunate, I repeat, for he was a devoted, determined fellow, ready for + anything. Now this soldier, who has the care of the orphans, will be very + difficult to get at, and yet only through him can we hope to reach Marshal + Simon’s daughters.” + </p> + <p> + “That is clear,” said Rodin, thoughtfully. + </p> + <p> + “Particularly since the anonymous letters have again awakened his + suspicions,” added Father d’Aigrigny “and—” + </p> + <p> + “Talking of the anonymous letters,” said Rodin suddenly, + interrupting Father d’Aigrigny, “there is a fact that you + ought to know; I will tell you why.” + </p> + <p> + “What is it?” + </p> + <p> + “Besides the letters that you know of, Marshal Simon has received a + number of others unknown to you, in which, by every possible means, it is + tried to exasperate his irritation against yourself—for they remind + him of all the reasons he has to hate you, and mock at him, because your + sacred character shelters you from his vengeance.” + </p> + <p> + Father d’Aigrigny looked at Rodin with amazement, colored in spite + of himself, and said to him: “But for what purpose has your + reverence acted in this manner?” + </p> + <p> + “First of all, to clear myself of suspicion with regard to the + letters; then, to excite the rage of the marshal to madness, by + incessantly reminding him of the just grounds he has to hate you, and of + the impossibility of being avenged upon you. This, joined to the other + emotions of sorrow and anger, which ferment in the savage bosom of this + man of bloodshed, tended to urge him on to the rash enterprise, which is + the consequence and the punishment of his idolatry for a miserable + usurper.” + </p> + <p> + “That may be,” said Father d’Aigrigny, with an air of + constraint: “but I will observe to your reverence, that it was, + perhaps, rather dangerous thus to excite Marshal Simon against me.” + </p> + <p> + “Why?” asked Rodin, as he fixed a piercing look upon Father d’Aigrigny. + </p> + <p> + “Because the marshal, excited beyond all bounds, and remembering + only our mutual hate, might seek me out—” + </p> + <p> + “Well! and what then?” + </p> + <p> + “Well! he might forget that I am a priest—” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, you are afraid are you?” said Rodin, disdainfully, + interrupting Father d’Aigrigny. + </p> + <p> + At the words: “You are afraid,” the reverend father almost + started from his chair; but recovering his coolness, he answered: “Your + reverence is right; yes, I should be afraid under such circumstances; I + should be afraid of forgetting that I am a priest, and of remembering too + well that I have been a soldier.” + </p> + <p> + “Really?” said Rodin, with sovereign contempt. “You are + still no further than that stupid and savage point of honor? Your cassock + has not yet extinguished the warlike fire? So that if this brawling + swordsman, whose poor, weak head, empty and sonorous as a drum, is so + easily turned with the stupid jargon of ‘Military honor, oaths, + Napoleon II.’—if this brawling bravo, I say, were to commit + some violence against you, it would require a great effort, I suppose, for + you to remain calm?” + </p> + <p> + “It is useless, I think,” said Father d’Aigrigny, quite + unable to control his agitation, “for your reverence to enter upon + such questions.” + </p> + <p> + “As your superior,” answered Rodin, severely, “I have + the right to ask. If Marshal Simon had lifted his hand against you—” + </p> + <p> + “Sir,” cried the reverend father. + </p> + <p> + “There are no sirs here—we are only priests,” said + Rodin, harshly. Father d’Aigrigny held down his head, scarcely able + to repress his rage. + </p> + <p> + “I ask you,” continued Rodin, obstinately, “if Marshal + Simon had struck you? Is that clear?” + </p> + <p> + “Enough! in mercy,” said Father d’Aigrigny, “enough!” + </p> + <p> + “Or, if you like it better, had Marshal Simon left the marks of his + fingers on your cheek?” resumed Rodin, with the utmost pertinacity. + </p> + <p> + Father d’Aigrigny, pale as death, ground his teeth in a kind of fury + at the very idea of such an insult, while Rodin, who had no doubt his + object in asking the question, raised his flabby eyelids, and seemed to + watch attentively the significant symptoms revealed in the agitated + countenance of the ex-colonel. + </p> + <p> + At length, recovering partly his presence of mind, Father d’Aigrigny + replied, in a forcedly calm tone: “If I were to be exposed to such + an insult, I would pray heaven to give me resignation and humility.” + </p> + <p> + “And no doubt heaven would hear your prayers,” said Rodin, + coldly, satisfied with the trial to which he had just put him. “Besides, + you are now warned, and it is not very probable,” added he, with a + grim smile, “that Marshal Simon will ever return to test your + humility. But if he were to return,” said Rodin, fixing on the + reverend father a long and piercing look, “you would know how to + show this brutal swordsman, in spite of all his violence, what resignation + and humility there is in a Christian soul!” + </p> + <p> + Two humble knocks at the door here interrupted the conversation for a + moment. A footman entered, bearing a large sealed packet on a salver, + which he presented to the princess. After this, he withdrew. Princess de + Saint-Dizier, having by a look asked Rodin’s permission to open the + letter, began to read it—and a cruel satisfaction was soon visible + on her face. + </p> + <p> + “There is hope,” cried she addressing herself to Rodin: + “the demand is rigorously legal, and the consequence may be such as + we desire. In a word, my niece may, any day, be exposed to complete + destitution. She, who is so extravagant! what a change in her life!” + </p> + <p> + “We shall then no doubt have some hold on that untamable character,” + said Rodin with a meditative air; “for, till now, all has failed in + that direction, and one would suppose some kinds of happiness are + invulnerable,” added the Jesuit, gnawing his flat and dirty nails. + </p> + <p> + “But, to obtain the result we desire, we must exasperate my niece’s + pride. It is, therefore, absolutely necessary, that I should see and talk + to her,” said the Princess de Saint-Dizier, reflecting. + </p> + <p> + “Mdlle. de Cardoville will refuse this interview,” said Father + d’Aigrigny. + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps,” replied the princess. “But she is so happy + that her audacity must be at its height. Yes, yes—I know her—and + I will write in such a manner, that she will come.” + </p> + <p> + “You think so?” asked Rodin, with a doubtful air. + </p> + <p> + “Do not fear it, father,” answered the lady, “she will + come. And her pride once brought into play, we may hope a good deal from + it.” + </p> + <p> + “We must then act, lady,” resumed Rodin; “yes, act + promptly. The moment approaches. Hate and suspicion are awake. There is + not a moment to lose.” + </p> + <p> + “As for hate,” replied the princess, “Mdlle. de + Cardoville must have seen to what her lawsuit would lead, about what she + called her illegal detention in a lunatic asylum, and that of the two + young ladies in St. Mary’s Convent. Thank heaven, we have friends + everywhere! I know from good authority, that the case will break down from + want of evidence, in spite of the animosity of certain parliamentary + magistrates, who shall be well remembered.” + </p> + <p> + “Under these circumstances,” replied Rodin, “the + departure of the marshal gives us every latitude. We must act immediately + on his daughters.” + </p> + <p> + “But how?” said the princess. + </p> + <p> + “We must see them,” resumed Rodin, “talk with them, + study them. Then we shall act in consequence.” + </p> + <p> + “But the soldier will not leave them a second,” said Father d’Aigrigny. + </p> + <p> + “Then,” replied Rodin, “we must talk to them in presence + of the soldier, and get him on our side.” + </p> + <p> + “That hope is idle,” cried Father d’Aigrigny. “You + do not know the military honor of his character. You do not know this man.” + </p> + <p> + “Don’t I know him?” said Rodin, shrugging his shoulders. + “Did not Mdlle. de Cardoville present me to him as her liberator, + when I denounced you as the soul of the conspiracy? Did I not restore to + him his ridiculous imperial relic—his cross of honor—when we + met at Dr. Baleinier’s? Did I not bring him back the girls from the + convent, and place them in the arms of their father?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” replied the princess; “but, since that time, my + abominable niece has either guessed or discovered all. She told you so + herself, father.” + </p> + <p> + “She told me, that she considered me her most mortal enemy,” + said Rodin. “Be it so. But did she tell the same to the marshal? Has + she ever mentioned me to him? and if she have done so, has the marshal + communicated this circumstance to his soldier? It may be so; but it is by + no means sure; in any case. I must ascertain the fact; if the soldier + treats me as an enemy, we shall see what is next to be done—but I + will first try to be received as a friend.” + </p> + <p> + “When?” asked the princess. + </p> + <p> + “To-morrow morning,” replied Rodin. + </p> + <p> + “Good heaven, my clear father!” cried the Princess de + Saint-Dizier, in alarm; “if this soldier were to treat you as an + enemy—beware—” + </p> + <p> + “I always beware, madame. I have had to face worse enemies than he + is,” said the Jesuit showing his black teeth; “the cholera to + begin with.” + </p> + <p> + “But he may refuse to see you, and in what way will you then get at + Marshal Simon’s daughters?” said Father d’Aigrigny. + </p> + <p> + “I do not yet know.” answered Rodin. “But as I intend to + do it, I shall find the means.” + </p> + <p> + “Father,” said the princess, suddenly, on reflection, “these + girls have never seen me, and I might obtain admittance to them, without + sending in my name.” + </p> + <p> + “That would be perfectly useless at present, madame, for I must + first know what course to take with respect to them. I must see and + converse with them, at any cost, and then, after I have fixed my plan, + your assistance may be very useful. In any case, please to be ready to + morrow, madame, to accompany me.” + </p> + <p> + “To what place, father?” + </p> + <p> + “To Marshal Simon’s.” + </p> + <p> + “To the marshal’s?” + </p> + <p> + “Not exactly. You will get into your carriage, and I will take a + hackney-coach. I will then try to obtain an interview with the girls, and, + during that time, you will wait for me at a few yards from the house. If I + succeed, and require your aid, I will come and fetch you; I can give you + my instructions without any appearance of concert between us.” + </p> + <p> + “I am content, reverend father; but, in truth, I tremble at the + thought of your interview with that rough trooper.” + </p> + <p> + “The Lord will watch over his servant, madame!” replied Rodin. + “As for you, father,” added he, addressing the Abbe d’Aigrigny, + “despatch instantly to Vienna the note which is all prepared to + announce the departure and speedy arrival of the marshal. Every precaution + has been taken. I shall write more fully this evening.” + </p> + <p> + The next morning, about eight o’clock, the Princess de Saint-Dizier, + in her carriage, and Rodin, in his hackney-coach, took the direction of + Marshal Simon’s house. + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:65%;"> + <img src="images/30349m.jpg" alt="30349m” width=" /><br /> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/30349.jpg"><i>Original</i></a> + </h5> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0158" id="link2HCH0158"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER LIII. HAPPINESS. + </h2> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">M</span>arshal Simon has + been absent two days. It is eight o’clock in the morning. Dagobert, + walking on tip-toe with the greatest caution, so as not to make the floor + creak beneath his tread, crosses the room which leads to the bedchamber of + Rose and Blanche and applies his ear to the door of the apartment. With + equal caution, Spoil-sport follows exactly the movements of his master. + The countenance of the soldier is uneasy and full of thought. As he + approaches the door, he says to himself: “I hope the dear children + heard nothing of what happened in the night! It would alarm them, and it + is much better that they should not know it at present. It might afflict + them sadly, poor dears! and they are so gay, so happy, since they feel + sure of their father’s love for them. They bore his departure so + bravely! I would not for the world that they should know of this + unfortunate event.” + </p> + <p> + Then as he listened, the soldier resumed: “I hear nothing—and + yet they are always awake so early. Can it be sorrow?” + </p> + <p> + Dagobert’s reflections were here interrupted by two frank, hearty + bursts of laughter, from the interior of the bedroom. + </p> + <p> + “Come! they are not so sad as I thought,” said the soldier, + breathing more freely. “Probably they know nothing about it.” + </p> + <p> + Soon, the laughter was again heard with redoubled force, and the soldier, + delighted at this gayety, so rare on the part of “his children,” + was much affected by it: the tears started to his eyes at the thought that + the orphans had at length recovered the serenity natural to their age; + then, passing from one emotion to the other, still listening at the door, + with his body leaning forward, and his hands resting on his knees, + Dagobert’s lip quivered with an expression of mute joy, and, shaking + his head a little, he accompanied with his silent laughter, the increasing + hilarity of the young girls. At last, as nothing is so contagious as + gayety, and as the worthy soldier was in an ecstasy of joy, he finished by + laughing aloud with all his might, without knowing why, and only because + Rose and Blanche were laughing. Spoil-sport had never seen his master in + such a transport of delight; he looked at him for a while in deep and + silent astonishment, and then began to bark in a questioning way. + </p> + <p> + At this well-known sound, the laughter within suddenly ceased, and a sweet + voice, still trembling with joyous emotion, exclaimed: “Is it you, + Spoil-sport, that have come to wake us?” The dog understood what was + said, wagged his tail, held down his ears, and, approaching close to the + door, answered the appeal of his young mistress by a kind of friendly + growl. + </p> + <p> + “Spoil-sport,” said Rose, hardly able to restrain her + laughter, “you are very early this morning.” + </p> + <p> + “Tell us what o’clock it is, if you please, old fellow?” + added Blanche. + </p> + <p> + “Young ladies, it is past eight,” said suddenly the gruff + voice of Dagobert, accompanying this piece of humor with a loud laugh. + </p> + <p> + A cry of gay surprise was heard, and then Rose resumed: “Good-morning, + Dagobert.” + </p> + <p> + “Good-morning, my children. You are very lazy to-day, I must tell + you.” + </p> + <p> + “It is not our fault. Our dear Augustine has not yet been to call + us. We are waiting for her.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! there it is,” said Dagobert to himself, his features once + more assuming an expression of anxiety. Then he returned aloud, in a tone + of some embarrassment, for the worthy man was no hand at a falsehood: + “My children, our companion went out this morning—very early. + She is gone to the country—on business—she will not return for + some days—so you had better get up by yourselves for today.” + </p> + <p> + “Our good Madame Augustine!” exclaimed Blanche, with interest. + “I hope it is nothing bad that has made her leave suddenly—eh, + Dagobert?” + </p> + <p> + “No, no—not at all—only business,” answered the + soldier. “To see one of her relations.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, so much the better!” said Rose. “Well, Dagobert, + when we call you can come in.” + </p> + <p> + “I will come back in a quarter of an hour,” said the soldier + as he withdrew; and he thought to himself: “I must lecture that fool + Loony—for he is so stupid, and so fond of talking, that he will let + it all out.” + </p> + <p> + The name of the pretended simpleton will serve as a natural transition, to + inform the reader of the cause of the hilarity of the sisters. They were + laughing at the numberless absurdities of the idiot. The girls rose and + dressed themselves, each serving as lady’s-maid to the other. Rose + had combed and arranged Blanche’s hair; it was now Blanche’s + turn to do the same for her sister. Thus occupied, they formed a charming + picture. Rose was seated before the dressing-table; her sister, standing + behind her, was smoothing her beautiful brown hair. Happy age! so little + removed from childhood, that present joy instantly obliterates the traces + of past sorrow! But the sisters felt more than joy; it was happiness, deep + and unalterable, for their father loved them, and their happiness was a + delight, and not a pain to him. Assured of the affection of his children, + he, also, thanks to them, no longer feared any grief. To those three + beings, thus certain of their mutual love, what was a momentary + separation? Having explained this, we shall understand the innocent gayety + of the sisters, notwithstanding their father’s departure, and the + happy, joyous expression, which now filled with animation their charming + faces, on which the late fading rose had begun once more to bloom. Their + faith in the future gave to their countenances something resolute and + decisive, which added a degree of piquancy to the beauty of their + enchanting features. + </p> + <p> + Blanche, in smoothing her sister’s hair, let fall the comb, and, as + she was stooping to pick it up, Rose anticipated her, saying: “If it + had been broken, we would have put it into the handle-basket.” + </p> + <p> + Then the two laughed merrily at this expression, which reminded them of an + admirable piece of folly on the part of Loony. + </p> + <p> + The supposed simpleton had broken the handle of a cup, and when the + governess of the young ladies had reprimanded him for his carelessness, he + had answered: “Never mind, madame; I have put it into the handle + basket.” + </p> + <p> + “The handle-basket, what is that?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Madame; it is where I keep all the handles I break off the + things!” + </p> + <p> + “Dear me!” said Rose, drying her eyes; “how silly it is + to laugh at such foolishness.” + </p> + <p> + “It is droll,” replied Blanche; “how can we help it?” + </p> + <p> + “All I regret is, that father cannot hear us laugh.” + </p> + <p> + “He was so happy to see us gay!” + </p> + <p> + “We must write to him to-day, the story of the handle-basket.” + </p> + <p> + “And that of the feather-brush, to show that, according to promise, + we kept up our spirits during his absence.” + </p> + <p> + “Write to him, sister? no, he is to write to us, and we are not to + answer his letters.” + </p> + <p> + “True! well then, I have an idea. Let us address letters to him + here, Dagobert can put them into the post, and, on his return, our father + will read our correspondence.” + </p> + <p> + “That will be charming! What nonsense we will write to him, since he + takes pleasure in it!” + </p> + <p> + “And we, too, like to amuse ourselves.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, certainly! father’s last words have given us so much + courage.” + </p> + <p> + “As I listened to them, I felt quite reconciled to his going.” + </p> + <p> + “When he said to us: ‘My children, I will confide in you all I + can. I go to fulfill a sacred duty, and I must be absent for some time; + for though, when I was blind enough to doubt your affection, I could not + make up my mind to leave you, my conscience was by no means tranquil. + Grief takes such an effect on us, that I had not the strength to come to a + decision, and my days were passed in painful hesitation. But now that I am + certain of your tenderness, all this irresolution has ceased, and I + understand how one duty is not to be sacrificed to another, and that I + have to perform two duties at once, both equally sacred; and this I now do + with joy, and delight, and courage!’” + </p> + <p> + “Go on, sister!” cried Blanche, rising to draw nearer to Rose. + “I think I hear our father when I remember those words, which must + console and support us during his absence.” + </p> + <p> + “And then our father continued: ‘Instead of grieving at my + departure, you would rejoice in it, you should be proud and happy. I go to + perform a good and generous act. Fancy to yourselves, that there is + somewhere a poor orphan, oppressed and abandoned by all—and that the + father of that orphan was once my benefactor, and that I had promised him + to protect his son—and that the life of that son is now in peril—tell + me, my children; would you regret that I should leave you to fly to the + aid of such an orphan?’—” + </p> + <p> + “‘No, no, brave father!’ we answered: ‘we should + not then be your daughters!’” continued Rose, with enthusiasm. + “Count upon us! We should be indeed unhappy if we thought that our + sorrow could deprive thee of thy courage. Go! and every day we will say to + ourselves proudly, ‘It was to perform a great and noble duty that + our father left us—we can wait calmly for his return.’” + </p> + <p> + “How that idea of duty sustains one, sister!” resumed Rose, + with growing enthusiasm. “It gave our father the courage to leave us + without regret, and to us the courage to bear his absence gayly!” + </p> + <p> + “And then, how calm we are now! Those mournful dreams, which seemed + to portend such sad events, no longer afflict us.” + </p> + <p> + “I tell you, sister, this time we are really happy once for all.” + </p> + <p> + “And then, do you feel like me? I fancy, that I am stronger and more + courageous and that I could brave every danger.” + </p> + <p> + “I should think so! We are strong enough now. Our father in the + midst, you on one side, I on the other—” + </p> + <p> + “Dagobert in the vanguard, and Spoil-sport in the rear! Then the + army will be complete, and let ‘em come on by thousands!” + added a gruff, but jovial voice, interrupting the girl, as Dagobert + appeared at the half open door of the room. It was worth looking at his + face, radiant with joy; for the old fellow had somewhat indiscreetly been + listening to the conversation. + </p> + <p> + “Oh! you were listening, Paul Pry!” said Rose gayly, as she + entered the adjoining room with her sister, and both affectionately + embraced the soldier. + </p> + <p> + “To be sure, I was listening; and I only regretted not to have ears + as large as Spoil-sport’s! Brave, good girls! that’s how I + like to see you—bold as brass, and saying to care and sorrow: + ‘Right about face! march! go to the devil!’” + </p> + <p> + “He will want to make us swear, now,” said Rose to her sister, + laughing with all her might. + </p> + <p> + “Well! now and then, it does no harm,” said the soldier; + “it relieves and calms one, when if one could not swear by five + hundred thousand de—” + </p> + <p> + “That’s enough!” said Rose, covering with her pretty + hand the gray moustache, so as to stop Dagobert in his speech. “If + Madame Augustine heard you—” + </p> + <p> + “Our poor governess! so mild and timid,” resumed Blanche. + “How you would frighten her!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Dagobert, as he tried to conceal his rising + embarrassment; “but she does not hear us. She is gone into the + country.” + </p> + <p> + “Good, worthy woman!” replied Blanche, with interest. “She + said something of you, which shows her excellent heart.” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly,” resumed Rose; “for she said to us, in + speaking of you, ‘Ah, young ladies! my affection must appear very + little, compared with M. Dagobert’s. But I feel that I also have the + right to devote myself to you.’” + </p> + <p> + “No doubt, no doubt! she has a heart of gold,” answered + Dagobert. Then he added to himself, “It’s as if they did it on + purpose, to bring the conversation back to this poor woman.” + </p> + <p> + “Father made a good choice,” continued Rose. “She is the + widow of an old officer, who was with him in the wars.” + </p> + <p> + “When we were out of spirits,” said Blanche, “you should + have seen her uneasiness and grief, and how earnestly she set about + consoling us.” + </p> + <p> + “I have seen the tears in her eyes when she looked at us,” + resumed Rose. “Oh! she loves us tenderly, and we return her + affection. With regard to that, Dagobert, we have a plan as soon as our + father comes back.” + </p> + <p> + “Be quiet, sister!” said Blanche, laughing. “Dagobert + will not keep our secret.” + </p> + <p> + “He!” + </p> + <p> + “Will you keep it for us, Dagobert?” + </p> + <p> + “I tell you what,” said the soldier, more and more + embarrassed; “you had better not tell it to me.” + </p> + <p> + “What! can you keep nothing from Madame Augustine?” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, Dagobert! Dagobert!” said Blanche, gayly holding up her + finger at the soldier; “I suspect you very much of paying court to + our governess.” + </p> + <p> + “I pay court?” said the soldier—and the expression of + his face was so rueful, as he pronounced these words, that the two sisters + burst out laughing. + </p> + <p> + Their hilarity was at its height when the door opened and Loony advanced + into room announcing, with a loud voice, “M. Rodin!” In fact, + the Jesuit glided almost imperceptibly into the apartment, as if to take + possession of the ground. Once there, he thought the game his own, and his + reptile eyes sparkled with joy. It would be difficult to paint the + surprise of the two sisters, and the anger of the soldier, at this + unexpected visit. + </p> + <p> + Rushing upon Loony, Dagobert seized him by the collar, and exclaimed: + “Who gave you leave to introduce any one here without my permission?” + </p> + <p> + “Pardon, M. Dagobert!” said Loony, throwing himself on his + knees, and clasping his hands with an air of idiotic entreaty. + </p> + <p> + “Leave the room!—and you too!” added the soldier, with a + menacing gesture, as he turned towards Rodin, who had already approached + the girls, with a paternal smile on his countenance. + </p> + <p> + “I am at your orders, my dear sir,” said the priest, humbly; + and he made a low bow, but without stirring from the spot. + </p> + <p> + “Will you go?” cried the soldier to Loony, who was still + kneeling, and who, thanks to the advantages of this position, was able to + utter a certain number of words before Dagobert could remove him. + </p> + <p> + “M. Dagobert,” said Loony in a doleful voice, “I beg + pardon for bringing up the gentleman without leave; but, alas, my head is + turned, because of the misfortune that happened to Madame Augustine.” + </p> + <p> + “What misfortune?” cried Rose and Blanche together, as they + advanced anxiously towards Loony. + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:65%;"> + <img src="images/30357m.jpg" alt="30357m” width=" /><br /> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/30357.jpg"><i>Original</i></a> + </h5> + <p> + “Will you go?” thundered Dagobert, shaking the servant by the + collar, to force him to rise. + </p> + <p> + “Speak—speak!” said Blanche, interposing between the + soldier and his prey. “What has happened to Madame Augustine?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh,” shouted Loony, in spite of the cuffs of the soldier. + “Madame Augustine was attacked in the night with cholera, and taken—” + </p> + <p> + He was unable to finish. Dagobert struck him a tremendous blow with his + fist, right on the jaw, and, putting forth his still formidable strength, + the old horse-grenadier lifted him to his legs, and with one violent kick + bestowed on the lower part of his back, sent him rolling into the ante + chamber. + </p> + <p> + Then turning to Rodin, with flushed cheek and sparkling eye, Dagobert + pointed to the door with an expressive gesture, and said in an angry + voice: “Now, be off with you and that quickly!” + </p> + <p> + “I must pay my respects another time, my dear sir,” said + Rodin, as he retired towards the door, bowing to the young girls. + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:65%;"> + <img src="images/30365m.jpg" alt="30365m” width=" /><br /> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/30365.jpg"><i>Original</i></a> + </h5> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0159" id="link2HCH0159"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER LIV. DUTY. + </h2> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">R</span>odin, retreating + slowly before the fire of Dagobert’s angry looks, walked backwards + to the door, casting oblique but piercing glances at the orphans, who were + visibly affected by the servant’s intentional indiscretion. + (Dagobert had ordered him not to speak before the girls of the illness of + their governess, and that was quite enough to induce the simpleton to take + the first opportunity of doing so.) + </p> + <p> + Rose hastily approached the soldier, and said to him: “Is it true—is + it really true that poor Madame Augustine has been attacked with the + cholera?” + </p> + <p> + “No—I do not know—I cannot tell,” replied the + soldier, hesitating; “besides, what is it to you?” + </p> + <p> + “Dagobert, you would conceal from us a calamity,” said + Blanche. “I remember now your embarrassment, when we spoke to you of + our governess.” + </p> + <p> + “If she is ill, we ought not to abandon her. She had pity on our + sorrows; we ought to pity her sufferings.” + </p> + <p> + “Come, sister; come to her room,” said Blanche, advancing + towards the door, where Rodin had stopped short, and stood listening with + growing attention to this unexpected scene, which seemed to give him ample + food for thought. + </p> + <p> + “You will not leave this room,” said the soldier, sternly, + addressing the two sisters. + </p> + <p> + “Dagobert,” replied Rose, firmly, “it is a sacred duty, + and it would be cowardice not to fulfil it.” + </p> + <p> + “I tell you that you shall not leave the room,” said the + soldier, stamping his foot with impatience. + </p> + <p> + “Dagobert,” replied Blanche, with as resolute an air as her + sister’s, and with a kind of enthusiasm which brought the blood to + her fair cheek, “our father, when he left us, give us an admirable + example of devotion and duty. He would not forgive us were we to forget + the lesson.” + </p> + <p> + “What,” cried Dagobert, in a rage, and advancing towards the + sisters to prevent their quitting the apartment; “you think that if + your governess had the cholera, I would let you go to her under the + pretext of duty?—Your duty is to live, to live happy, for your + father’s sake—and for mine into the bargain—so not a + word more of such folly!” + </p> + <p> + “We can run no danger by going to our governess in her room,” + said Rose. + </p> + <p> + “And if there were danger,” added Blanche, “we ought not + to hesitate. So, Dagobert, be good! and let us pass.” + </p> + <p> + Rodin, who had listened to what precedes, with sustained attention, + suddenly started, as if a thought had struck him; his eye shone brightly, + and an expression of fatal joy illumined his countenance. + </p> + <p> + “Dagobert, do not refuse!” said Blanche. “You would do + for us what you reproach us with wishing to do for another.” + </p> + <p> + Dagobert had as it were, till now stood in the path of the Jesuit and the + twins by keeping close to the door; but, after a moments reflection, he + shrugged his shoulders, stepped to one side, and said calmly: “I was + an old fool. Come, young ladies; if you find Madame Augustine in the + house, I will allow you to remain with her.” + </p> + <p> + Surprised at these words, the girls stood motionless and irresolute. + </p> + <p> + “If our governess is not here, where is she, then?” said Rose. + </p> + <p> + “You think, perhaps, that I am going to tell you in the excitement + in which you are!” + </p> + <p> + “She is dead!” cried Rose growing pale. + </p> + <p> + “No, no—be calm,” said the soldier, hastily; “I + swear to you, by your father’s honor, that she is not dead. At the + first appearance of the disorder, she begged to be removed from the house, + fearing the contagion for those in it.” + </p> + <p> + “Good and courageous woman!” said Rose tenderly, “And + you will not allow us—” + </p> + <p> + “I will not allow you to go out, even if I have to lock you up in + your room,” cried the soldier, again stamping with rage; then, + remembering that the blunderhead’s indiscretion was the sole cause + of this unfortunate incident, he added, with concentrated fury: “Oh! + I will break my stick upon that rascal’s back.” + </p> + <p> + So saying, he turned towards the door, where Rodin still stood, silent and + attentive, dissembling with habitual impassibility the fatal hopes he had + just conceived in his brain. The girls, no longer doubting the removal of + their governess, and convinced that Dagobert would not tell them whither + they had conveyed her, remained pensive and sad. + </p> + <p> + At sight of the priest, whom he had forgotten for the moment, the soldier’s + rage increased, and he said to him abruptly: “Are you still there?” + </p> + <p> + “I would merely observe to you, my dear sir,” said Rodin, with + that air of perfect good nature which he knew so well how to assume, + “that you were standing before the door, which naturally prevented + me from going out.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, now nothing prevents you—so file off!” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly, I will file off, if you wish it, my dear sir though I + think I have some reason to be surprised at such a reception.” + </p> + <p> + “It is no reception at all—so begone!” + </p> + <p> + “I had come, my dear sir to speak to you—” + </p> + <p> + “I have no time for talking.” + </p> + <p> + “Upon business of great importance.” + </p> + <p> + “I have no other business of importance than to remain with these + children.” + </p> + <p> + “Very good, my dear sir,” said Rodin, pausing on the + threshold. “I will not disturb you any longer; excuse my + indiscretion. The bearer of excellent news from Marshal Simon, I came—” + </p> + <p> + “News from our father!” cried Rose, drawing nearer to Rodin. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, speak, speak, sir!” added Blanche. + </p> + <p> + “You have news of the marshal!” said Dagobert, glancing + suspiciously at Rodin. “Pray, what is this news?” + </p> + <p> + But Rodin, without immediately answering the question, returned from the + threshold into the room, and, contemplating Rose and Blanche by turns with + admiration, he resumed: “What happiness for me, to be able to bring + some pleasure to these dear young ladies. They are even as I left them + graceful, and fair, and charming—only less sad than on the day when + I fetched them from the gloomy convent in which they were kept prisoners, + to restore them to the arms of their glorious father!” + </p> + <p> + “That was their place, and this is not yours,” said Dagobert, + harshly, still holding the door open behind Rodin. + </p> + <p> + “Confess, at least that I was not so much out of place at Dr. + Baleinier’s,” said the Jesuit, with a cunning air. “You + know, for it was there that I restored to you the noble imperial cross you + so much regretted—the day when that good Mdlle. de Cardoville only + prevented you from strangling me by telling you that I was her liberator. + Aye! it was just as I have the honor of stating, young ladies,” + added Rodin, with a smile; “this brave soldier was very near + strangling me, for, be it said without offense, he has, in spite of his + age, a grasp of iron. Ha, ha! the Prussians and Cossacks must know that + better than I!” + </p> + <p> + These few words reminded Dagobert and the twins of the services which + Rodin had really rendered them; and though the marshal had heard Mdlle. de + Cardoville speak of Rodin as of a very dangerous man, he had forgotten, in + the midst of so many anxieties, to communicate this circumstance to + Dagobert. But this latter, warned by experience, felt, in spite of + favorable appearances, a secret aversion for the Jesuit; so he replied + abruptly: “The strength of my grasp has nothing to do with the + matter.” + </p> + <p> + “If I allude to that little innocent playfulness on your part, my + dear sir,” said Rodin, in his softest tone, approaching the two + sisters with a wriggle which was peculiar to him; “if I allude to + it, you see, it was suggested by the involuntary recollection of the + little services I was happy enough to render you.” Dagobert looked + fixedly at Rodin, who instantly veiled his glance beneath his flabby + eyelids. + </p> + <p> + “First of all,” said the soldier, after a moment’s + silence, “a true man never speaks of the services he has rendered, + and you come back three times to the subject.” + </p> + <p> + “But Dagobert,” whispered Rose, “if he brings news of + our father?” + </p> + <p> + The soldier made a sign, as if to beg the girl to let him speak, and + resumed, looking full at Rodin: “You are cunning, but I’m no + raw recruit.” + </p> + <p> + “I cunning?” said Rodin, with a sanctified air. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, very. You think to puzzle me with your fine phrases; but I’m + not to be caught in that way. Just listen to me. Some of your band of + black-gowns stole my cross; you returned it to me. Some of the same band + carried off these children; you brought them back. It is also true that + you denounced the renegade D’Aigrigny. But all this only proves two + things: first, that you were vile enough to be the accomplice of these + scoundrels; and secondly, that, having been their accomplice, you were + base enough to betray them. Now, those two facts are equally bad, and I + suspect you most furiously. So march off at once; your presence is not + good for these children.” + </p> + <p> + “But, my dear sir—” + </p> + <p> + “I will have no buts,” answered Dagobert, in an angry voice. + “When a man of your look does good, it is only to hide some evil; + and one must be on guard.” + </p> + <p> + “I understand your suspicions,” said Rodin coolly, hiding his + growing disappointment, for he had hoped it would have been easy to coax + the soldier; “but, if you reflect, what interest have I in deceiving + you? And in what should the deception consist?” + </p> + <p> + “You have some interest or other in persisting to remain here, when + I tell you to go away.” + </p> + <p> + “I have already had the honor of informing you of the object of my + visit, my dear sir.” + </p> + <p> + “To bring news of Marshal Simon?” + </p> + <p> + “That is exactly the case. I am happy enough to have news of the + marshal. Yes, my dear young ladies,” added Rodin, as he again + approached the two sisters, to recover, as it were, the ground he had + lost, “I have news of your glorious father!” + </p> + <p> + “Then come to my room directly, and you can tell it to me,” + replied Dagobert. + </p> + <p> + “What! you would be cruel enough to deprive these dear ladies of the + pleasure—” + </p> + <p> + “By heaven, sir!” cried Dagobert, in a voice of thunder, + “you will make me forget myself. I should be sorry to fling a man of + your age down the stairs. Will you be gone?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, well,” said Rodin mildly, “do not be angry with a + poor old man. I am really not worth the trouble. I will go with you to + your room, and tell you what I have to communicate. You will repent not + having let me speak before these dear young ladies; but that will be your + punishment, naughty man!” + </p> + <p> + So saying, Rodin again bowed very low, and, concealing his rage and + vexation, left the room before Dagobert, who made a sign to the two + sisters, and then followed, closing the door after him. + </p> + <p> + “What news of our father, Dagobert?” said Rose anxiously, when + the soldier returned, after a quarter of an hours absence. + </p> + <p> + “Well, that old conjurer knows that the marshal set out in good + spirits, and he seems acquainted with M. Robert. How could he be informed + of all this? I cannot tell,” added the soldier, with a thoughtful + air; “but it is only another reason to be on one’s guard + against him.” + </p> + <p> + “But what news of our father?” asked Rose. + </p> + <p> + “One of that old rascal’s friends (I think him a rascal still) + knows your father, he tells me, and met him five-and-twenty leagues from + here. Knowing that this man was coming to Paris, the marshal charged him + to let you know that he was in perfect health, and hoped soon to see you + again.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, what happiness!” cried Rose. + </p> + <p> + “You see, you were wrong to suspect the poor old man, Dagobert,” + added Blanche. “You treated him so harshly!” + </p> + <p> + “Possibly so; but I am not sorry for it.” + </p> + <p> + “And why?” + </p> + <p> + “I have my reasons; and one of the best is that, when I saw him came + in, and go sidling and creeping round about us, I felt chilled to the + marrow of my bones, without knowing why. Had I seen a serpent crawling + towards you, I should not have been more frightened. I knew, of course, + that he could not hurt you in my presence; but I tell you, my children, in + spite of the services he has no doubt rendered us, it was all I could do + to refrain from throwing him out of the window. Now, this manner of + proving my gratitude is not natural, and one must be on one’s guard + against people who inspire us with such ideas.” + </p> + <p> + “Good Dagobert, it is your affection for us that makes you so + suspicious,” said Rose, in a coaxing tone; “it proves how much + you love us.” + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:65%;"> + <img src="images/30373m.jpg" alt="30373m” width=" /><br /> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/30373.jpg"><i>Original</i></a> + </h5> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0160" id="link2HCH0160"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER LV. THE IMPROVISED HOSPITAL + </h2> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">A</span>mong a great + number of temporary hospitals opened at the time of the cholera in every + quarter of Paris, one had been established on the ground-floor of a large + house in the Rue du Mont-Blanc. The vacant apartments had been generously + placed by their proprietor at the disposal of the authorities; and to this + place were carried a number of persons, who, being suddenly attacked with + the contagion, were considered in too dangerous a state to be removed to + the principal hospitals. + </p> + <p> + Two days had elapsed since Rodin’s visit to Marshal Simon’s + daughters. Shortly after he had been expelled, the Princess de + Saint-Dizier had entered to see them, under the cloak of being a + house-to-house visitor to collect funds for the cholera sufferers. + </p> + <p> + Choosing the moment when Dagobert, deceived by her lady-like demeanor, had + withdrawn, she counselled the twins that it was their duty to go and see + their governess, whom she stated to be in the hospital we now describe. + </p> + <p> + It was about ten o’clock in the morning. The persons who had watched + during the night by the sick people, in the hospital established in the + Rue du Mont-Blanc, were about to be relieved by other voluntary + assistants. + </p> + <p> + “Well, gentlemen,” said one of those newly arrived, “how + are we getting on? Has there been any decrease last night in the number of + the sick?” + </p> + <p> + “Unfortunately, no; but the doctors think the contagion has reached + its height.” + </p> + <p> + “Then there is some hope of seeing it decrease.” + </p> + <p> + “And have any of the gentlemen, whose places we come to take, been + attacked by the disease?” + </p> + <p> + “We came eleven strong last night; we are only nine now.” + </p> + <p> + “That is bad. Were these two persons taken off rapidly?” + </p> + <p> + “One of the victims, a young man of twenty-five years of age, a + cavalry officer on furlough, was struck as it were by lightning. In less + than a quarter of an hour he was dead. Though such facts are frequent, we + were speechless with horror.” + </p> + <p> + “Poor young man!” + </p> + <p> + “He had a word of cordial encouragement and hope for every one. He + had so far succeeded in raising the spirits of the patients, that some of + them who were less affected by the cholera than by the fear of it, were + able to quit the hospital nearly well.” + </p> + <p> + “What a pity! So good a young man! Well, he died gloriously; it + requires as much courage as on the field of battle.” + </p> + <p> + “He had only one rival in zeal and courage, and that is a Young + priest, with an angelic countenance, whom they call the Abbe Gabriel. He + is indefatigable; he hardly takes an hour’s rest, but runs from one + to the other, and offers himself to everybody. He forgets nothing. The + consolation; which he offers come from the depths of his soul, and are not + mere formalities in the way of his profession. No, no, I saw him weep over + a poor woman, whose eyes he had closed after a dreadful agony. Oh, if all + priests were like him!” + </p> + <p> + “No doubt, a good priest is most worthy of respect. But! who is the + other victim of last night?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! his death was frightful. Do not speak of it. I have still the + horrible scene before my eyes.” + </p> + <p> + “A sudden attack of cholera?” + </p> + <p> + “If it had only been the contagion, I should not so shudder at the + remembrance.” + </p> + <p> + “What then did he die of?” + </p> + <p> + “It is a string of horrors. Three days ago, they brought here a man, + who was supposed to be only attacked with cholera. You have no doubt heard + speak of this personage. He is the lion-tamer, that drew all Paris to the + Porte-Saint-Martin.” + </p> + <p> + “I know the man you mean. Called Morok. He performed a kind of play + with a tame panther.” + </p> + <p> + “Exactly so; I was myself present at a similar scene, which a + stranger, an Indian, in consequence of a wager, was said at the time, + jumped upon the stage and killed the panther.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, this Morok, brought here as a cholera-patient, and indeed + with all the symptoms of the contagion, soon showed signs of a still more + frightful malady.” + </p> + <p> + “And this was—” + </p> + <p> + “Hydrophobia.” + </p> + <p> + “Did he become mad?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; he confessed, that he had been bitten a few days before by one + of the mastiffs in his menagerie; unfortunately, we only learnt this + circumstance after the terrible attack, which cost the life of the poor + fellow we deplore.” + </p> + <p> + “How did it happen, then?” + </p> + <p> + “Morok was in a room with three other patients. Suddenly seized with + a sort of furious delirium, he rose, uttering ferocious cries, and rushed + raving mad into the passage. Our poor friend made an attempt to stop him. + This kind of resistance increased the frenzy of Morok, who threw himself + on the man that crossed his path, and, tearing him with his teeth, fell + down in horrible convulsions.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! you are right. ‘Twas indeed frightful. And, not + withstanding every assistance this victim of Morok’s—” + </p> + <p> + “Died during the night, in dreadful agony; for the shock had been so + violent, that brain-fever almost instantly declared itself.” + </p> + <p> + “And is Morok dead?” + </p> + <p> + “I do not know. He was to be taken to another hospital, after being + fast bound in the state of weakness which generally succeeds the fit. But, + till he can be removed he has been confined in a room upstairs.” + </p> + <p> + “But he cannot recover.” + </p> + <p> + “I should think he must be dead by this time. The doctors did not + give him twenty-four hours to live.” + </p> + <p> + The persons engaged in this conversation were standing in an ante-chamber + on the ground-floor, in which usually assembled those who came to offer + their voluntary aid to the sick. One door of this room communicated with + the rest of the hospital, and the other with the passage that opened upon + the courtyard. + </p> + <p> + “Dear me!” said one of the two speakers, looking through the + window. “See what two charming girls have just got out of that + elegant carriage. How much alike they are! Such a resemblance is indeed + extraordinary.” + </p> + <p> + “No doubt they are twins. Poor young girls! dressed in Mourning. + They have perhaps lost father or mother.” + </p> + <p> + “One would imagine they are coming this way.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, they are coming up the steps.” + </p> + <p> + And indeed Rose and Blanche soon entered the antechamber, with a timid, + anxious air, though a sort of feverish excitement was visible in their + looks. One of the two men that were talking together, moved by the + embarrassment of the girls, advanced toward them, and said, in a tone of + attentive politeness: “Is there anything I can do for you, ladies?” + </p> + <p> + “Is not this, sir,” replied Rose, “the infirmary of the + Rue du Mont Blanc?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, miss.” + </p> + <p> + “A lady, called Madame Augustine du Tremblay, was brought here, we + are told, about two days ago. Could we see her?” + </p> + <p> + “I would observe to you, miss, that there is some danger in entering + the sick-wards.” + </p> + <p> + “It is a dear friend that we wish to see,” answered Rose, in a + mild and firm tone, which sufficiently expressed that she was determined + to brave the danger. + </p> + <p> + “I cannot be sure, miss,” resumed the other, “that the + person you seek is here; but, if you will take the trouble to walk into + this room on the left, you will find there the good Sister Martha; she has + the care of the women’s wards, and will give you all the information + you can desire.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you, sir,” said Blanche, with a graceful bow; and she + and her sister entered together the apartment which had been pointed out + to them. + </p> + <p> + “They are really charming,” said the man, looking after the + two sisters, who soon disappeared from his view. “It would be a + great pity if—” + </p> + <p> + He was unable to finish. A frightful tumult, mingled with cries of alarm + and horror, rose suddenly from the adjoining rooms. Almost instantly, two + doors were thrown open, and a number of the sick, half-naked, pale, + fleshless, and their features convulsed with terror, rushed into the + antechamber, exclaiming: “Help! help! the madman!” It is + impossible to paint the scene of despairing and furious confusion which + followed this panic of so many affrighted wretches, flying to the only + other door, to escape from the perils they dreaded, and there, struggling + and trampling on each other to pass through the narrow entrance. + </p> + <p> + At the moment when the last of these unhappy creatures succeeded in + reaching the door, dragging himself along upon his bleeding hands, for he + had been thrown down and almost crushed in the confusion—Morok, the + object of so much terror—Morok himself appeared. He was a horrible + sight. With the exception of a rag bound about his middle, his wan form + was entirely naked, and from his bare legs still hung the remnants of the + cords he had just broken. His thick, yellow hair stood almost on end, his + beard bristled, his savage eyes rolled full of blood in their orbits, and + shone with a glassy brightness; his lips were covered with foam; from time + to time, he uttered hoarse, guttural cries. The veins, visible on his iron + limbs were swollen almost to bursting. He bounded like a wild beast, and + stretched out before him his bony and quivering hands. At the moment Morok + reached the doorway, by which those he pursued made their escape, some + persons, attracted by the noise, managed to close this door from without, + whilst others secured that which communicated with the sick-ward. + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:65%;"> + <img src="images/30381m.jpg" alt="30381m” width=" /><br /> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/30381.jpg"><i>Original</i></a> + </h5> + <p> + Morok thus found himself a prisoner. He ran to the window to force it + open, and threw himself into the courtyard. But, stopping suddenly, he + drew back from the glittering panes, seized with that invincible horror + which all the victims of hydrophobia feel at the sight of any shining + object, particularly glass. The unfortunate creatures whom he had pursued, + saw him from the courtyard exhausting himself in furious efforts to open + the doors that just had been closed upon him. Then, perceiving the + inutility of his attempts, he uttered savage cries, and rushed furiously + round the room, like a wild beast that seeks in vain to escape from its + cage. + </p> + <p> + But, suddenly, those spectators of this scene, who had approached nearest + to the window, uttered a loud exclamation of fear and anguish. Morok had + perceived the little door which led to the closet occupied by Sister + Martha, where Rose and Blanche had entered a few minutes before. Hoping to + get out by this way, Morok drew the door violently towards him, and + succeeded in half opening it, notwithstanding the resistance he + experienced from the inside. For an instant the affrighted crowd saw the + stiffened arms Of Sister Martha and the orphans, clinging to the door, and + holding it back with all their might. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0161" id="link2HCH0161"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER LVI. HYDROPHOBIA. + </h2> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">W</span>hen the sick + people, assembled in the courtyard, saw the desperate efforts of Morok to + force the door of the room which contained Sister Martha and the orphans, + their fright redoubled. “It is all over, Sister Martha!” cried + they. + </p> + <p> + “The door will give way.” + </p> + <p> + “And the closet has no other entrance.” + </p> + <p> + “There are two young girls in mourning with her.” + </p> + <p> + “Come! we must not leave these poor women to encounter the madman. + Follow me, friends!” cried generously one of the spectators, who was + still blessed with health, and he rushed towards the steps to return to + the ante-chamber. + </p> + <p> + “It’s too late! it’s only exposing yourself in vain,” + cried many persons, holding him back by force. + </p> + <p> + At this moment, voices were heard, exclaiming: “Here is the Abbe + Gabriel.” + </p> + <p> + “He is coming downstairs. He has heard the noise.” + </p> + <p> + “He is asking what is the matter.” + </p> + <p> + “What will he do?” + </p> + <p> + Gabriel, occupied with a dying person in a neighboring room, had, indeed, + just learned that Morok, having broken his bonds, had succeeded in + escaping from the chamber in which he had been temporarily confined. + Foreseeing the terrible dangers which might result from the escape of the + lion-tamer, the missionary consulted only his courage, and hastened down, + in the hope of preventing greater misfortunes. In obedience to his orders, + an attendant followed him, bearing a brazier full of hot cinders, on which + lay several irons, at a white heat, used by the doctors for cauterizing, + in desperate cases of cholera. + </p> + <p> + The angelic countenance of Gabriel was very pale; but calm intrepidity + shone upon his noble brow. Hastily crossing the passage, and making his + way through the crowd, he went straight to the ante-chamber door. As he + approached it, one of the sick people said to him, in a lamentable voice; + “Ah, sir! it is all over. Those who can see through the window say + that Sister Martha is lost.” + </p> + <p> + Gabriel made no answer, but grasped the key of the door. Before entering + the room, however, he turned to the attendant, and said to him in a firm + voice: “Are the irons of a white heat?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “Then wait here, and be ready. As for you, my friends,” he + added, turning to some of the sick, who shuddered with terror, “as + soon as I enter shut the door after me. I will answer for the rest. And + you; friend, only bring your irons when I call.” + </p> + <p> + And the young missionary turned the key in the lock. At this juncture, a + cry of alarm, pity, and admiration rose from every lip, and the spectators + drew back from the door, with an involuntary feeling of fear. Raising his + eyes to heaven, as if to invoke its assistance at this terrible moment, + Gabriel pushed open the door, and immediately closed it behind him. He was + alone with Morok. + </p> + <p> + The lion-tamer, by a last furious effort, had almost succeeded in opening + the door, to which Sister Martha and the orphans were clinging, in a fit + of terror, uttering piercing cries. At the sound of Gabriel’s + footsteps, Morok turned round suddenly. Then, instead of continuing his + attack on the closet, he sprang, with a roar and a bound, upon the + new-comer. + </p> + <p> + During this time, Sister Martha and the orphans, not knowing the cause of + the sudden retreat of their assailant, took advantage of the opportunity + to close and bolt the door, and thus placed themselves in security from a + new attack. Morok, with haggard eye, and teeth convulsively clinched, had + rushed upon Gabriel, his hands extended to seize him by the throat. The + missionary stood the shock valiantly. Guessing, at a glance, the intention + of his adversary, he seized him by the wrists as he advanced, and, holding + him back, bent him down violently with a vigorous hand. For a second, + Morok and Gabriel remained mute, breathless, motionless, gazing on each + other; then the missionary strove to conquer the efforts of the madman, + who, with violent jerks, attempted to throw himself upon him, and to seize + and tear him with his teeth. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly the lion-tamer’s strength seemed to fail, his knees + quivered, his livid head sank upon his shoulder, his eyes closed. The + missionary, supposing that a momentary weakness had succeeded to the fit + of rage, and that the wretch was about to fall, relaxed his hold in order + to lend him assistance. But no sooner did he feel himself at liberty, + thanks to his crafty device, than Morok flung himself furiously upon + Gabriel. Surprised by this sudden attack, the latter stumbled, and at once + felt himself clasped into the iron arms of the madman. Yet, with redoubled + strength and energy, struggling breast to breast, foot to foot, the + missionary in his turn succeeded in tripping up his adversary, and, + throwing him with a vigorous effort, again seized his hands, and now held + him down beneath his knee. Having thus completely mastered him, Gabriel + turned his head to call for assistance, when Morok, by a desperate strain, + succeeded in raising himself a little, and seized with his teeth the left + arm of the missionary. At this sharp, deep, horrible bite, which + penetrated to the very bone, Gabriel could not restrain a scream of + anguish and horror. He strove in vain to disengage himself, for his arm + was held fast, as in a vice, between the firm-set jaws of Morok. + </p> + <p> + This frightful scene had lasted less time than it has taken in the + description, when suddenly the door leading to the passage was violently + opened, and several courageous men, who had learned from the patients to + what danger the young priest was exposed, came rushing to his assistance, + in spite of his recommendation not to enter till he should call. The + attendant was amongst the number, with the brazier and the hot irons. + Gabriel, as soon as he perceived him, said to him in an agitated voice: + “Quick, friend! your iron. Thank God I had thought of that.” + </p> + <p> + One of the men who had entered the room was luckily provided with a + blanket; and the moment the missionary succeeded in wresting his arm from + the clinched teeth of Morok, whom he still held down with his knee, this + blanket was thrown over the madman’s head, so that he could now be + held and bound without danger, notwithstanding his desperate resistance. + Then Gabriel rose, tore open the sleeve of his cassock, and laying bare + his left arm, on which a deep bite was visible, bleeding, of a bluish + color, he beckoned the attendant to draw near, seized one of the hot + irons, and, with a firm and sure hand, twice applied the burning metal to + the wound, with a calm heroism which struck all the spectators, with + admiration. But soon so many various emotions, intrepidly sustained, were + followed by a natural reaction. Large drops of sweat stood upon Gabriel’s + brow; his long light hair clung to his temples; he grew deadly pale, + reeled, lost his senses, and was carried into the next room to receive + immediate attention. + </p> + <p> + An accidental circumstance, likely enough to occur, had converted one of + the Princess de Saint-Dizier’s falsehoods into a truth. To induce + the orphans to go to the hospital, she had told them Gabriel was there, + which at the time she was far from believing. On the contrary, she would + have wished to prevent a meeting, which, from the attachment of the + missionary to the girls, might interfere with her projects. A little while + after the terrible scene we have just related, Rose and Blanche, + accompanied by Sister Martha, entered a vast room, of a strange and fatal + aspect, containing a number of women who had suddenly been seized with + cholera. + </p> + <p> + These immense apartments, generously supplied for the purpose of a + temporary hospital, had been furnished with excessive luxury. The room now + occupied by the sick women, of whom we speak, had been used for a + ball-room. The white panels glittered with sumptuous gilding, and + magnificent pier-glasses occupied the spaces between the windows, through + which could be seen the fresh verdure of a pleasant garden, smiling + beneath the influence of budding May. In the midst of all this gilded + luxury, on a rich, inlaid floor of costly woods, were seen arranged in + regular order four rows of beds, of every shape and kind, from the humble + truckle-bed to the handsome couch in carved mahogany. + </p> + <p> + This long room was divided into two compartments by a temporary partition, + four or five feet in height. They had thus been able to manage the four + rows of beds. This partition finished at some little distance from either + end of the room, so as to leave an open space without beds, for the + volunteer attendants, when the sick did not require their aid. At one of + these extremities of the room was a lofty and magnificent marble chimney + piece, ornamented with gilt bronze. On the fire beneath, various drinks + were brewing for the patients. To complete the singular picture, women of + every class took their turns in attending upon the sick, to whose sighs + and groans they always responded with consoling words of hope and pity. + Such was the place, strange and mournful, that Rose and Blanche entered + together, hand in hand, a short time after Gabriel had displayed such + heroic courage in the struggle against Morok. Sister Martha accompanied + Marshal Simon’s daughters. After speaking a few words to them in a + whisper, she pointed out to them the two divisions in which the beds were + arranged, and herself went to the other end of the room to give some + orders. + </p> + <p> + The orphans, still under the impression of the terrible danger from which + Gabriel had rescued them without their knowing it, were both excessively + pale; yet their eyes were expressive of firm resolution. They had + determined not only to perform what they considered an imperative duty, + but to prove themselves worthy of their valiant father; they were acting + too for their mother’s sake, since they had been told that, dying in + Siberia without receiving the sacrament, her eternal felicity might depend + on the proofs they gave of Christian devotion. Need we add that the + Princess de Saint-Dizier, following the advice of Rodin, had, in a second + interview, skillfully brought about without the knowledge of Dagobert, + taken advantage of the excitable qualities of these poor, confiding, + simple, and generous souls, by a fatal exaggeration of the most noble and + courageous sentiments. The orphans having asked Sister Martha if Madame + Augustine du Tremblay had been brought to this asylum within the last + three days, that person had answered, that she really did not know, but, + if they would go through the women’s wards, it would be easy for + them to ascertain. For the abominable hypocrite, who, in conjunction with + Rodin, had sent these two children to encounter a mortal peril, had told + an impudent falsehood when she affirmed that their governess had been + removed to this hospital. During their exile, and their toilsome journey + with Dagobert, the sisters had been exposed to many hard trials. But never + had they witnessed so sad a spectacle as that which now offered itself to + their view. + </p> + <p> + The long row of beds, on which so many poor creatures writhed in agony, + some uttering deep groans, some only a dull rattle in the throat, some + raving in the delirium of fever, or calling on those from whom they were + about to part forever—these frightful sights and sounds, which are + too much even for brave men, would inevitably, (such was the execrable + design of Rodin and his accomplices) make a fatal impression on these + young girls, urged by the most generous motives to undertake this perilous + visit. And then—sad memory! which awoke, in all its deep and + poignant bitterness, by the side of the first beds they came to—it + was of this very malady, the Cholera, that their mother had died a painful + death. Fancy the twins entering this vast room, of so fearful an aspect, + and, already much shaken by the terror which Morok had inspired, pursuing + their search in the midst of these unfortunate creatures, whose dying + pangs reminded them every instant of the dying agony of their mother! For + a moment, at sight of the funeral hall, Rose and Blanche had felt their + resolution fail them. A black presentiment made them regret their heroic + imprudence; and, moreover, since several minutes they had begun to feel an + icy shudder, and painful shootings across the temples; but, attributing + these symptoms to the fright occasioned by Morok, their good and valiant + natures soon stifled all these fears. They exchanged glances of affection, + their courage revived, and both of them—Rose on one side of the + partition, and Blanche on the other—proceeded with their painful + task. Gabriel, carried to the doctors’ private room, had soon + recovered his senses. Thanks to his courage and presence of mind, his + wound, cauterized in time, could have no dangerous consequences. As soon + as it was dressed he insisted on returning to the women’s ward, + where he had be offering pious consolations to a dying person at the + moment they had come to inform him of the frightful danger caused by the + escape of Morok. + </p> + <p> + A few minutes before the missionary entered the room, Rose and Blanche + arrived almost together at the term of their mournful search, one from the + left, the other from the right-hand row of beds, separated by the + partition which divided the hall into compartments. The sisters had not + yet seen each other. Their steps tottered as they advanced, and they were + forced, from time to time, to lean against the beds as they passed along. + Their strength was—rapidly failing them. Giddy with fear and pain, + they appeared to act almost mechanically. Alas! the orphans had been + seized almost at the same moment with the terrible symptoms of cholera. In + consequence of that species of physiological phenomenon, of which we have + already spoken—a phenomenon by no means rare in twins, which had + already been displayed on one or two occasions of their sickness—their + organizations seemed liable to the same sensations, the same simultaneous + accidents, like two flowers on one stem, which bloom and fade together. + The sight of so much suffering, and so many deaths, had accelerated the + development of this dreadful disease. Already, on their agitated and + altered countenances, they bore the mortal tokens of the contagion, as + they came forth, each on her own side, from the two subdivisions of the + room in which they had vainly sought their governess. Until now separated + by the partition, Rose and Blanche had not yet seen each other; but, when + at length their eyes met, there ensued a heart rending scene. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0162" id="link2HCH0162"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER LVII. THE GUARDIAN ANGEL. + </h2> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>o the charming + freshness of the sisters’ faces had succeeded a livid pallor. Their + large blue eyes, now hollow and sunk in, appeared of enormous dimensions. + Their lips, once so rosy, were now suffused with a violet hue, and a + similar color was gradually displacing the transparent carmine of their + cheeks and fingers. It was as if all the roses in their charming + countenances were fading and turning blue before the icy blast of death. + </p> + <p> + When the orphans met, tottering and hardly able to sustain themselves, a + cry of mutual horror burst from their lips. Each of them exclaimed, at + sight of the fearful change in her sister’s features. “Are you + also ill, sister?” And then, bursting into tears, they threw + themselves into each other’s arms, and looked anxiously at one + another. + </p> + <p> + “Good heaven, Rose! how pale you are!” + </p> + <p> + “Like you, sister.” + </p> + <p> + “And do you feel a cold shudder?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, and my sight fails me.” + </p> + <p> + “My bosom is all on fire.” + </p> + <p> + “Sister, we are perhaps going to die.” + </p> + <p> + “Let it only be together!” + </p> + <p> + “And our poor father?” + </p> + <p> + “And Dagobert?” + </p> + <p> + “Sister, our dream has come true!” cried Rose, almost + deliriously, as she threw her arms round Blanche’s neck. “Look! + look! the Angel Gabriel is here to fetch us.” + </p> + <p> + Indeed, at this moment, Gabriel entered the open space at the end of the + room. “Heaven! what do I see?” cried the young priest. “The + daughters of Marshal Simon!” + </p> + <p> + And, rushing forward, he received the sisters in his arms, for they were + no longer able to stand. Already their drooping heads, their half-closed + eyes, their painful and difficult breathing, announced the approach of + death. Sister Martha was close at hand. She hastened to respond to the + call of Gabriel. Aided by this pious woman, he was able to lift the + orphans upon a bed reserved for the doctor in attendance. For fear that + the sight of this mournful agony should make too deep an impression on the + other patients, Sister Martha drew a large curtain, and the sisters were + thus in some sort walled off from the rest of the room. Their hands had + been so tightly clasped together, during a nervous paroxysm, that it was + impossible to separate them. It was in this position that the first + remedies were applied—remedies incapable of conquering the violence + of the disease, but which at least mitigated for a few moments the + excessive pains they suffered, and restored some faint glimmer of + perception to their obscured and troubled senses. At this moment, Gabriel + was leaning over the bed with a look of inexpressible grief. With breaking + heart, and face bathed in tears, he thought of the strange destiny, which + thus made him a witness of the death of these girls, his relations, whom + but a few months before he had rescued from the horrors of the tempest. In + spite of his firmness of soul, the missionary could not help shuddering as + he reflected on the fate of the orphans, the death of Jacques Rennepont, + and the fearful devices by which M. Hardy, retired to the cloistered + solitude of St. Herein, had become a member of the Society of Jesus almost + in dying. The missionary said to himself, that already four members of the + Rennepont family—his family—had been successively struck down + by some dreadful fate; and he asked himself with alarm, how it was that + the detestable interests of the Society of Loyola should be served by a + providential fatality? The astonishment of the young missionary would have + given place to the deepest horror, could he have known the part that Rodin + and his accomplices had taken, both in the death of Jacques Rennepont, by + exciting, through Morok, the evil propensities of the artisan, and in the + approaching end of Rose and Blanche, by converting, through the Princess + de Saint-Dizier, the generous inspirations of the orphans into suicidal + heroism. + </p> + <p> + Roused for a moment from the painful stupor in which they had been + plunged, Rose and Blanche half-opened their large eyes, already dull and + faded. Then, more and more bewildered they both gazed fixedly at the + angelic countenance of Gabriel. + </p> + <p> + “Sister,” said Rose, in a faint voice, “do you see the + archangel—as in our dreams, in Germany?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes—three days ago—he appeared to us.” + </p> + <p> + “He is come to fetch us.” + </p> + <p> + “Alas! will our death save our poor mother from purgatory?” + </p> + <p> + “Angel! blessed angel! pray God for our mother—and for us!” + Until now, stupefied with amazement and sorrow, almost suffocated with + sobs, Gabriel had not been able to utter a word. But at these words of the + orphans, he exclaimed: “Dear children, why doubt of your mother’s + salvation? Oh! never did a purer soul ascend to its Creator. Your mother? + I know from my adopted father, that her virtues and courage were the + admiration of all who knew her. Oh! believe me; God has blessed her.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you hear, sister?” cried Rose, as a ray of celestial joy + illumined for an instant the livid faces of the orphans. “God has + blessed our mother.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes,” resumed Gabriel; “banish these gloomy ideas. + Take courage, poor children! You must not die. Think of your father.” + </p> + <p> + “Our father?” said Blanche, shuddering; and she continued, + with a mixture of reason and wild excitement, which would have touched the + soul of the most indifferent: “Alas! he will not find us on his + return. Forgive us, father! we did not think to do any harm. We wished, + like you, to do something generous—to help our governess.” + </p> + <p> + “And we did not think to die so quickly, and so soon. Yesterday, we + were gay and happy.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, good angel! you will appear to our father, even as you have + appeared to us. You will tell him that, in dying—the last thought of + his children—was of him.” + </p> + <p> + “We came here without Dagobert’s knowing it—do not let + our father scold him.” + </p> + <p> + “Blessed angel!” resumed the other sister in a still more + feeble voice; “appear to Dagobert, also. Tell him, that we ask his + forgiveness, for the grief our death will occasion him.” + </p> + <p> + “And let our old friend caress our poor Spoil-sport for us—our + faithful guardian,” added Blanche, trying to smile. + </p> + <p> + “And then,” resumed Rose, in a voice that was growing still + fainter, “promise to appear to two other persons, that have been so + kind to us—good Mother Bunch—and the beautiful Lady Adrienne.” + </p> + <p> + “We forget none whom we have loved,” said Blanche, with a last + effort. “Now, God grant we may go to our mother, never to leave her + more!” + </p> + <p> + “You promised it good angel—you know you did—in the + dream. You said to us: ‘Poor children—come from so far—you + will have traversed the earth—to rest on the maternal bosom!’” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! it is dreadful—dreadful! So young—and no hope!” + murmured Gabriel, as he buried his face in his hands. “Almighty + Father! Thy views are impenetrable. Alas! yet why should these children + die this cruel death?” + </p> + <p> + Rose heaved a deep sigh and said in an expiring tone: “Let us be + buried together!—united in life, in death not divided—” + </p> + <p> + And the two turned their dying looks upon Gabriel, and stretched out + towards him their supplicating hands. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, blessed martyrs to a generous devotion!” cried the + missionary, raising to heaven his eyes streaming with tears. “Angelic + souls! treasures of innocence and truth! ascend, ascend to heaven—since + God calls you to him, and the earth is not worthy to possess you!” + </p> + <p> + “Sister! father!” were the last words that the orphans + pronounced with their dying voices. + </p> + <p> + And then the twins, by a last instinctive impulse, endeavored to clasp + each other, and their eyes half-opened to exchange yet another glance. + They shuddered twice or thrice, their limbs stiffened, a deep sigh + struggled from their violet-colored lips. Rose and Blanche were both dead! + Gabriel and Sister Martha, after closing the eyes of the orphans, knelt + down to pray by the side of that funeral couch. Suddenly a great tumult + was heard in the room. Rapid footsteps, mingled with imprecations, sounded + close at hand, the curtain was drawn aside from this mournful scene, and + Dagobert entered precipitately, pale, haggard, his dress in disorder. At + sight of Gabriel and the Sister of Charity kneeling beside the corpses of + his children, the soldier uttered a terrible roar, and tried to advance—but + in vain—for, before Gabriel could reach him, Dagobert fell flat on + the ground, and his gray head struck violently on the floor. + </p> + <p> + It is night—a dark and stormy night. One o’clock in the + morning has just sounded from the church of Montmartre. It is to the + cemetery of Montmartre that is carried the coffin which, according to the + last wishes of Rose and Blanche contains them both. Through the thick + shadow, which rests upon that field of death, may be seen moving a pale + light. It is the gravedigger. He advances with caution; a dark lantern is + in his hand. A man wrapped in a cloak accompanies him. He holds down his + head and weeps. It is Samuel. The old Jew—the keeper of the house in + the Rue Saint-Francois. On the night of the funeral of Jacques Rennepont, + the first who died of the seven heirs, and who was buried in another + cemetery, Samuel had a similar mysterious interview with the gravedigger, + to obtain a favor at the price of gold. A strange and awful favor! After + passing down several paths, bordered with cypress trees, by the side of + many tombs, the Jew and the gravedigger arrived, at a little glade, + situated near the western wall of the cemetery. The night was so dark, + that scarcely anything could be seen. After moving his lantern up and + down, and all about, the gravedigger showed Samuel, at the foot of a tall + yew-tree, with long black branches, a little mound of newly-raised earth, + and said: “It is here.” + </p> + <p> + “You are sure of it?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes—two bodies in one coffin! it is not such a common + thing.” + </p> + <p> + “Alas! two in the same coffin!” said the Jew, with a deep + sigh. + </p> + <p> + “Now that you know the place, what do you want more?” asked + the gravedigger. + </p> + <p> + Samuel did not answer. He fell on his knees, and piously kissed the little + mound. Then rising, with his cheeks bathed in tears, he approached the + gravedigger, and spoke to him for some moments in a whisper—though + they were alone, and in the centre of that deserted place. Then began + between those two men a mysterious dialogue, which the night enveloped in + shade and silence. The gravedigger, alarmed at what Samuel asked him, at + first refused his request. + </p> + <p> + But the Jew, employing persuasions, entreaties, tears, and at last the + seduction of the jingling gold, succeeded in conquering the scruples of + the gravedigger. Though the latter trembled at the thought of what he + promised, he said to Samuel in an agitated tone: “To-morrow night, + then, at two o’clock.” + </p> + <p> + “I shall be behind the wall,” answered Samuel, pointing out + the place with the aid of a lantern. “I will throw three stones into + the cemetery, for a signal.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, three stones—as a signal,” replied the gravedigger + shuddering, and wiping the cold sweat from his forehead. + </p> + <p> + With considerable remains of vigor, notwithstanding his great age, Samuel + availed himself of the broken surface of the low wall, and climbing over + it, soon disappeared. The gravedigger returned home with hasty strides. + From time to time, he looked fearfully behind him, as though he had been + pursued by some fatal vision. + </p> + <p> + On the evening after the funeral of Rose and Blanche, Rodin wrote two + letters. The first, addressed to his mysterious correspondent at Rome, + alluded to the deaths of Jacques Rennepont, and Rose and Blanche Simon, as + well as to the cession of M. Hardy’s property, and the donation of + Gabriel—events which reduced the claimants of the inheritance to two—Mdlle. + de Cardoville and Djalma. This first note written by Rodin for Rome, + contained only the following words: “Five from seven leaves two. + Announce this result to the Cardinal-Prince. Let him go on. I advance + advance-advance!” The second note, in a feigned hand, was addressed + to Marshal Simon, to be delivered by a sure messenger, contained these few + lines: “If there is yet time, make haste to return. Your daughters + are both dead. You shall learn who killed them.” + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:65%;"> + <img src="images/30389m.jpg" alt="30389m” width=" /><br /> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/30389.jpg"><i>Original</i></a> + </h5> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0163" id="link2HCH0163"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER LVIII. RUIN. + </h2> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">I</span>t is the day after + the death of Marshal Simon’s daughters. Mdlle. de Cardoville is yet + ignorant of the sad end of her young relatives. Her countenance is radiant + with happiness, and never has she looked more beautiful; her eye has never + been more brilliant, her complexion more dazzling white, her lip of a + richer coral. According to her somewhat eccentric custom of dressing + herself in her own house in a picturesque style, Adrienne wears to-day, + though it is about three o’clock in the afternoon, a pale green + watered-silk dress, with a very full skirt, the sleeves and bodice slashed + with rose-colored ribbon, and adorned with white bugle-beads, of exquisite + workmanship; while a slender network, also of white bugle-beads, + concealing the thick plait of Adrienne’s back hair, forms an + oriental head-dress of charming originality, and contrasts agreeably with + the long curls which fall in front almost to the swell of the bosom. To + the expression of indescribable happiness which marks the features of + Mdlle. de Cardoville, is added a certain resolute, cutting, satirical air, + which is not habitual to her. Her charming head, and graceful, swan-like + neck, are raised in an attitude of defiance; her small, rose-colored + nostrils seem to dilate with ill-repressed ardor, and she waits with + haughty impatience for the moment of an aggressive and ironical interview. + Not far from Adrienne is Mother Bunch. She has resumed in the house the + place which she at first occupied. The young sempstress is in mourning for + her sister, but her countenance is expressive of a mild, calm sorrow. She + looks at Mdlle. de Cardoville with surprise; for never, till now, has she + seen the features of the fair patrician impressed with such a character of + ironical audacity. Mdlle. de Cardoville was exempt from the slightest + coquetry, in the narrow and ordinary sense of the word. Yet she now cast + an inquiring look at the glass before which she was standing, and, having + restored the elastic smoothness to one of her long, golden curls, by + rolling it for a moment round her ivory finger, she carefully effaced with + her hands some almost imperceptible folds, which had formed themselves in + the thick material of her elegant corsage. This movement, and that of + turning her back to the glass, to see if her dress sat perfectly on all + points, revealed, in serpentine undulations, all the charms and graces of + her light and elegant figure; for, in spite of the rich fulness of her + shoulders, white and firm as sculptured alabaster, Adrienne belonged to + that class of privileged persons, who are able at need to make a girdle + out of a garter. + </p> + <p> + Having performed, with indescribable grace, these charming evolutions of + feminine coquetry, Adrienne turned towards Mother Bunch, whose surprise + was still on the increase, and said to her, smiling: “My dear + Magdalen, do not laugh at my question—but what would you say to a + picture, that should represent me as I am now?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, lady—” + </p> + <p> + “There you are again, with your lady-ing,” said Adrienne, in a + tone of gentle reproach. + </p> + <p> + “Well, then, Adrienne,” resumed Mother Bunch, “I think + it would be a charming picture, for you are dressed, as usual with perfect + taste.” + </p> + <p> + “But am I not better dressed than on other days, my dear poetess? I + began by telling you that I do not ask the question for my own sake,” + said Adrienne, gayly. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I suppose so,” replied Mother Bunch, with a faint + smile. “It is certainly impossible to imagine anything that would + suit you better. The light green and the pale rose-color, with the soft + lustre of the white ornaments, harmonize so well with your golden hair, + that I cannot conceive, I tell you, a more graceful picture.” + </p> + <p> + The speaker felt what she said, and she was happy to be able to express + it, for we know the intense admiration of that poetic soul for all that + was beautiful. + </p> + <p> + “Well!” went on Adrienne, gayly, “I am glad, my dear, + that you find me better dressed than usual.” + </p> + <p> + “Only,” said the hunchback, hesitating. + </p> + <p> + “Only?” repeated Adrienne, looking at her with an air of + interrogation. + </p> + <p> + “Why, only,” continued the other, “if I have never seen + you look more pretty, I have also never observed in your features the + resolute and ironical expression which they had just now. It was like an + air of impatient defiance.” + </p> + <p> + “And so it was, my dear little Magdalen,” said Adrienne, + throwing her arms round the girl’s neck with joyous tenderness. + “I must kiss you, for having guessed it. You see, I expect a visit + from my dear aunt.” + </p> + <p> + “The Princess de Saint-Dizier?” cried Mother Bunch, in alarm. + “That wicked lady, who did you so much evil?” + </p> + <p> + “The very same. She has asked for an interview, and I shall be + delighted to receive her.” + </p> + <p> + “Delighted?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes—a somewhat ironical and malicious delight, it is true,” + answered Adrienne, still more gayly. “You shall judge for yourself. + She regrets her gallantries, her beauty, her youth—even her size + afflicts the holy woman!—and she will see me young, fair, beloved—and + above all thin—yes, thin,” added Mdlle. de Cardoville, + laughing merrily. “And you may imagine, my dear, how much envy and + despair, the sight of a young, thin woman excites in a stout one of a + certain age!” + </p> + <p> + “My friend,” said Mother Bunch, gravely, “you speak in + jest. And yet, I know not why, the coming of this princess alarms me.” + </p> + <p> + “Dear, gentle soul, be satisfied!” answered Adrienne, + affectionately. “I do not fear this woman—I no longer have any + fear of her—and to prove it to her confusion, I will treat her—a + monster of hypocrisy and wickedness, who comes here, no doubt, on some + abominable design—I will treat her as an inoffensive, ridiculous fat + woman!” And Adrienne again laughed. + </p> + <p> + A servant here entered the room, and interrupted the mirth of Adrienne, by + saying: “The Princess de Saint-Dizier wishes to know if you can + receive her?” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly,” said Mdlle. de Cardoville; and the servant + retired. Mother Bunch was about to rise and quit the room; but Adrienne + held her back, and said to her, taking her hand with an air of serious + tenderness: “Stay, my dear friend, I entreat you.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you wish it?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; I wish—still in revenge, you know,” said Adrienne, + with a smile, “to prove to her highness of Saint-Dizier, that I have + an affectionate friend—that I have, in fact, every happiness.” + </p> + <p> + “But, Adrienne,” replied the other, timidly, “consider—” + </p> + <p> + “Silence! here is the princess. Remain! I ask it as a favor. The + instinct of your heart will discover any snare she may have laid. Did not + your affection warn me of the plots of Rodin?” + </p> + <p> + Mother Bunch could not refuse such a request. She remained, but was about + to draw back from the fireplace. Adrienne, however, took her by the hand, + and made her resume her seat in the arm-chair, saying: “My dear + Magdalen, keep your place. You owe nothing to the lady. With me it is + different; she comes to my house.” + </p> + <p> + Hardly had Adrienne uttered these words, than the princess entered with + head erect, and haughty air (we have said, she could carry herself most + loftily), and advanced with a firm step. The strongest minds have their + side of puerile weakness; a savage envy, excited by the elegance, wit, and + beauty of Adrienne, bore a large part in the hatred of the princess for + her niece; and though it was idle to think of eclipsing Adrienne, and the + Princess de Saint-Dizier did not seriously mean to attempt it, she could + not forbear, in preparing for the interview she had demanded, taking more + pains even than usual in the arrangement of her dress. Beneath her robe of + shot silk, she was laced in and tightened to excess—a pressure which + considerably increased the color in her cheeks. The throng of jealous and + hateful sentiments, which inspired her with regard to Adrienne, had so + troubled the clearness of her ordinarily calm judgment, that, instead of + the plain and quiet style, in which, as a woman of tact and taste, she was + generally attired, she now committed the folly of wearing a dress of + changing hues, and a crimson hat, adorned with a magnificent bird of + paradise. Hate, envy, the pride of triumph—for she thought of the + skillful perfidy with which she had sent to almost certain death the + daughters of Marshal Simon—and the execrable hope of succeeding in + new plots, were all expressed in the countenance of the Princess de + Saint-Dizier, as she entered her niece’s apartment. + </p> + <p> + Without advancing to meet her aunt, Adrienne rose politely from the sofa + on which she was seated, made a half-curtsey, full of grace and dignity, + and immediately resumed her former posture. Then, pointing to an arm chair + near the fireplace, at one corner of which sat Mother Bunch, and she + herself at the other, she said: “Pray sit down, your highness.” + The princess turned very red, remained standing, and cast a disdainful + glance of insolent surprise at the sempstress, who, in compliance with + Adrienne’s wish, only bowed slightly at the entrance of the Princess + de Saint-Dizier, without offering to give up her place. In acting thus, + the young sempstress followed the dictates of her conscience, which told + her that the real superiority did not belong to this base, hypocritical, + and wicked princess, but rather to such a person as herself, the admirable + and devoted friend. + </p> + <p> + “Let me beg your highness to sit down,” resumed Adrienne, in a + mild tone, as she pointed to the vacant chair. + </p> + <p> + “The interview I have demanded, niece,” said the princess + “must be a private one.” + </p> + <p> + “I have no secrets, madame, from my best friend; you may speak in + the presence of this young lady.” + </p> + <p> + “I have long known,” replied Madame de Saint-Dizier, with + bitter irony, “that in all things you care little for secrecy, and + that you are easy in the choice of what you call your friends. But you + will permit me to act differently from you. If you have no secrets, + madame, I have—and I do not choose to confide them to the first + comer.” + </p> + <p> + So saying, the pious lady glanced contemptuously at the sempstress. The + latter, hurt at the insolent tone of the princess, answered mildly and + simply: + </p> + <p> + “I do not see what can be the great difference between the first and + the last comer to Mdlle. de Cardoville’s.” + </p> + <p> + “What! can it speak!” cried the princess, insolently. + </p> + <p> + “It can at least answer, madame,” replied Mother Bunch, in her + calm voice. + </p> + <p> + “I wish to see you alone, niece—is that clear?” said the + princess, impatiently, to her niece. + </p> + <p> + “I beg your pardon, but I do not quite understand your highness,” + said Adrienne, with an air of surprise. “This young lady, who honors + me with her friendship, is willing to be present at this interview, which + you have asked for—I say she has consented to be present, for it + needs, I confess, the kindest condescension in her to resign herself, from + affection for me, to hear all the graceful, obliging, and charming things + which you have no doubt come hither to communicate.” + </p> + <p> + “Madame—” began the princess, angrily. + </p> + <p> + “Permit me to interrupt your highness,” returned Adrienne, in + a tone of perfect amenity, as if she were addressing the most flattering + compliments to her visitor. “To put you quite at your ease with the + lady here, I will begin by informing you that she is quite aware of all + the holy perfidies, pious wrongs, and devout infamies, of which you nearly + made me the victim. She knows that you are a mother of the Church, such as + one sees but few of in these days. May I hope, therefore, that your + highness will dispense with this delicate and interesting reserve?” + </p> + <p> + “Really,” said the princess, with a sort of incensed + amazement, “I scarcely know if I wake or sleep.” + </p> + <p> + “Dear me!” said Adrienne, in apparent alarm; “this doubt + as to the state of your faculties is very shocking, madame. I see that the + blood flies to your head, for your face sufficiently shows it; you seem + oppressed, confined, uncomfortable—perhaps (we women may say so + between ourselves), perhaps you are laced a little too tightly, madame?” + </p> + <p> + These words, pronounced by Adrienne with an air of warm interest and + perfect simplicity, almost choked the princess with rage. She became + crimson, seated herself abruptly, and exclaimed: “Be it so, madame! + I prefer this reception to any other. It puts me at my ease, as you say.” + </p> + <p> + “Does it indeed, madame?” said Adrienne, with a smile. “You + may now at least speak frankly all that you feel, which must for you have + the charm of novelty! Confess that you are obliged to me for enabling you, + even for a moment, to lay aside that mask of piety, amiability, and + goodness, which must be so troublesome to you.” + </p> + <p> + As she listened to the sarcasms of Adrienne (an innocent and excusable + revenge, if we consider all the wrongs she had suffered), Mother Bunch + felt her heart sink within her; for she dreaded the malignity of the + princess, who replied, with the utmost calmness: “A thousand thanks, + madame, for your excellent intentions and sentiments. I appreciate them as + I ought, and I hope in a short time to prove it to you.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, madame,” said Adrienne, playfully, “let us have + it all at once. I am full of impatient curiosity.” + </p> + <p> + “And yet,” said the princess, feigning in her turn a bitter + and ironical delight, “you are far from having the least notion of + what I am about to announce to you.” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed! I fear that your highness’s candor and modesty + deceive you,” replied Adrienne, with the same mocking affability; + “for there are very few things on your part that can surprise me, + madame. You must be aware that from your highness, I am prepared for + anything.” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps, madame,” said the princess, laying great stress on + her words, “if, for instance, I were to tell you that within + twenty-four hours—suppose between this and to-morrow-thou will be + reduced to poverty—” + </p> + <p> + This was so unexpected, that Mdlle. de Cardoville started in spite of + herself, and Mother Bunch shuddered. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, madame!” said the princess, with triumphant joy and cruel + mildness, as she watched the growing surprise of her niece, “confess + that I have astonished you a little. You were right in giving to our + interview the turn it has taken. I should have needed all sorts of + circumlocution to say to you, ‘Niece, to-morrow you will be as poor + as you are rich to day.’ But now I can tell you the fact quite + plainly and simply.” + </p> + <p> + Recovering from her first amazement, Adrienne replied, with a calm smile, + which checked the joy of the princess: “Well, I confess frankly, + madame, that you have surprised me; I expected from you one of those black + pieces of malignity, one of those well-laid plots, in which you are known + to excel, and I did not think you would make all this fuss about such a + trifle.” + </p> + <p> + “To be ruined—completely ruined,” cried the princess, + “and that by to morrow—you that have been so prodigal, will + see your house, furniture, horses, jewels, even the ridiculous dresses of + which you are so vain, all taken from you—do you call that a trifle? + You, that spend with indifference thousands of louis, will be reduced to a + pension inferior to the wages you gave your foot-boy—do you call + that a trifle?” + </p> + <p> + To her aunt’s cruel disappointment, Adrienne, who appeared quite to + have recovered her serenity was about to answer accordingly, when the door + suddenly opened, and, without being announced, Prince Djalma entered the + room. A proud and tender expression of delight beamed from the radiant + brow of Adrienne at sight of the prince, and it is impossible to describe + the look of triumphant happiness and high disdain that she cast upon the + Princess de Saint-Dizier. Djalma himself had never looked more handsome, + and never had more intense happiness been impressed on a human + countenance. The Hindoo wore a long robe of white Cashmere, adorned with + innumerable stripes of gold and purple; his turban was of the same color + and material; a magnificent figured shawl was twisted about his waist. On + seeing the Indian, whom she had not hoped to meet at Mdlle. de Cardoville’s, + the Princess de Saint-Dizier could not at first conceal her extreme + surprise. It was between these four, then, that the following scene took + place. + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:65%;"> + <img src="images/30399m.jpg" alt="30399m” width=" /><br /> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/30399.jpg"><i>Original</i></a> + </h5> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0164" id="link2HCH0164"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER LIX. MEMORIES. + </h2> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">D</span>jalma, having + never before met the Princess de Saint-Dizier at Adrienne’s, at + first appeared rather astonished at her presence. The princess, keeping + silence for a moment, contemplated with implacable hatred and envy those + two beings, both so fair and young, so loving and happy. Suddenly she + started, as if she had just remembered something of great importance, and + for some seconds she remained absorbed in thought. + </p> + <p> + Adrienne and Djalma availed themselves of this interval to gaze fondly on + each other, with a sort of ardent idolatry, which filled their eyes with + sweet tears. Then, at a movement of the Princess de Saint-Dizier, who + seemed to rouse herself from her momentary trance, Mdlle. de Cardoville + said to the young prince, with a smile: “My dear cousin, I have to + repair an omission (voluntary, I confess, and for good reasons), in never + having before mentioned to you one of my relations, whom I have now the + honor to present to you. The Princess de Saint-Dizier!” + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:65%;"> + <img src="images/30407m.jpg" alt="30407m” width=" /><br /> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/30407.jpg"><i>Original</i></a> + </h5> + <p> + Djalma bowed; but Mdlle. de Cardoville resumed, just as her aunt was about + to make some reply: “Her Highness of Saint-Dizier came very kindly + to inform me of an event which is a most fortunate one for me, and of + which I will speak to you hereafter, cousin—unless this amiable lady + should wish to deprive me of the pleasure of making such a communication.” + </p> + <p> + The unexpected arrival of the prince, and the recollections which had + suddenly occurred to the princess, had no doubt greatly modified her first + plans: for, instead of continuing the conversation with regard to Adrienne’s + threatened loss of fortune, the princess answered, with a bland smile, + that covered an odious meaning: “I should be sorry, prince, to + deprive my dear and amiable niece of the pleasure of announcing to you the + happy news to which she alludes, and which, as a near relative, I lost no + time in communicating to her. I have here some notes on this subject,” + added the princess, delivering a paper to Adrienne, “which I hope + will prove, to her entire satisfaction, the reality of what I have + announced to her.” + </p> + <p> + “A thousand thanks, my dear aunt,” said Adrienne, receiving + the paper with perfect indifference; “these precautions and proofs + are quite superfluous. You know that I always believe you on your word, + when it concerns your good feeling towards myself.” + </p> + <p> + Notwithstanding his ignorance of the refined perfidy and cruel politeness + of civilized life, Djalma, endowed with a tact and fineness of perception + common to most natures of extreme susceptibility, felt some degree of + mental discomfort as he listened to this exchange of false compliments. He + could not guess their full meaning, but they sounded hollow to his ear; + and moreover, whether from instinct or presentiment, he had conceived a + vague dislike for the Princess de Saint-Dizier. That pious lady, full of + the great affair in hand, was a prey to the most violent agitation, which + betrayed itself in the growing color of her cheeks, her bitter smile, and + the malicious brightness of her glance. As he gazed on this woman, Djalma + was unable to conquer his rising antipathy, and he remained silent and + attentive, whilst his handsome countenance lost something of its former + serenity. Mother Bunch also felt the influence of a painful impression. + She glanced in terror at the princess, and then imploringly at Adrienne, + as though she entreated the latter to but an end to an interview of which + the young sempstress foresaw the fatal consequences. But, unfortunately, + the Princess de Saint-Dizier was too much interested in prolonging this + conversation; and Mdlle. de Cardoville, gathering new courage and + confidence from the presence of the man she adored, took delight in vexing + the princess with the exhibition of their happy love. + </p> + <p> + After a short silence, the Princess de Saint-Dizier observed, in a soft + and insinuating tone: “Really, prince, you cannot think how pleased + I was to learn by public report (for people talk of nothing else, and with + good reason) of your chivalrous attachment to my dear niece; for, without + knowing it, you will extricate me from a difficult position.” + </p> + <p> + Djalma made no answer, but he looked at Mdlle. de Cardoville with a + surprised and almost sorrowful air, as if to ask what her aunt meant to + insinuate. + </p> + <p> + The latter, not perceiving this mute interrogation, resumed as follows: + “I will express myself more clearly, prince. You can understand + that, being the nearest relative of this dear, obstinate girl, I am more + or less responsible for her conduct in the eyes of the world; and you, + prince, seem just to have arrived on purpose, from the end of the earth, + to take charge of a destiny which had caused me considerable apprehension. + It is charming, it is excellent; and I know not which most to admire, your + courage or your good fortune.” The princess threw a glance of + diabolical malice at Adrienne, and awaited her answer with an air of + defiance. + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:65%;"> + <img src="images/30415m.jpg" alt="30415m” width=" /><br /> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/30415.jpg"><i>Original</i></a> + </h5> + <p> + “Listen to our good aunt, my dear cousin,” said the young + lady, smiling calmly. “Since our affectionate kinswoman sees you and + me united and happy, her heart is swelling with such a flood of joy, that + it must run over, and the effects will be delightful. Only have a little + patience, and you will behold them in their full beauty. I do not know,” + added Adrienne, in the most natural tone, “why, in thinking of these + outpourings of our dear aunt’s affection, I should remember what you + told me, cousin, of a certain viper in your country which sometimes, in a + powerless bite, breaks its fangs, and, absorbing its own venom, becomes + the victim of the poison it distills. Come, my dear aunt, you that had so + good and noble a heart, I am sure you must feel interested in the fate of + those poor vipers.” + </p> + <p> + The princess darted an implacable look at her niece, and replied, in an + agitated voice, “I do not see the object of this selection of + natural history. Do you, prince?” + </p> + <p> + Djalma made no answer; leaning with his arm on the mantelpiece, he threw + dark and piercing glances upon the princess. His involuntary hatred of + this woman filled his heart. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, my dear aunt!” resumed Adrienne, in a tone of + self-reproach; “have I presumed too much on the goodness of your + heart? Have you not even sympathy for vipers? For whom, then, have you + any? After all, I can very well understand it,” added Adrienne, as + if to herself; “vipers are so thin. But, to lay aside these follies,” + she continued, gayly, as she saw the ill-repressed rage of the pious + woman, “tell us at once, my dear aunt, all the tender things which + the sight of our happiness inspires.” + </p> + <p> + “I hope to do so, my amiable niece. First, I must congratulate this + dear prince, on having come so far to take charge, in all confidence, and + with his eyes shut, of you, my poor child, whom we were obliged to confine + as mad, in order to give a decent color to your excesses. You remember the + handsome lad, that we found in your apartment. You cannot be so faithless, + as already to have forgotten his name? He was a fine, youth, and a poet—one + Agricola Baudoin—and was discovered in a secret place, attached to + your bed-chamber. All Paris was amused with the scandal—for you are + not about to marry an unknown person, dear prince; her name has been in + every mouth.” + </p> + <p> + At these unexpected and dreadful words, Adrienne, Djalma, and Mother + Bunch, though under the influence of different kinds of resentment, + remained for a moment mute with surprise; and the princess, judging it no + longer necessary to repress her infernal joy and triumphant hatred, + exclaimed, as she rose from her seat, with flushed cheek, and flashing + eyes, “Yes, I defy you to contradict me. Were we not forced to + confine you, on the plea of madness? And did we not find a workman (your + lover) concealed in your bedroom?” + </p> + <p> + On this horrible accusation, Djalma’s golden complexion, transparent + as amber, became suddenly the color of lead; his eyes, fixed and staring + showed the white round the pupil—his upper lip, red as blood, was + curled in a kind of wild convulsion, which exposed to view the firmly-set + teeth—and his whole countenance became so frightfully threatening + and ferocious, that Mother Bunch shuddered with terror. Carried away by + the ardor of his blood, the young Oriental felt a sort of dizzy, + unreflecting, involuntary rage—a fiery commotion, like that which + makes the blood leap to the brave man’s eyes and brain, when he + feels a blow upon his face. If, during that moment, rapid as the passage + of the lightning through the cloud, action could have taken the place of + thought, the princess and Adrienne, Mother Bunch and himself, would all + have been annihilated by an explosion as sudden and fatal as that of the + bursting of a mine. He would have killed the princess, because she accused + Adrienne of infamous deception he would have killed Adrienne, because she + could even be suspected of such infamy—and Mother Bunch, for being a + witness of the accusation—and himself, in order not to survive such + horrid treachery. But, oh wonder! his furious and bloodshot gaze met the + calm look of Adrienne—a look so full of dignity and serene + confidence—and the expression of ferocious rage passed away like a + flash of lightning. + </p> + <p> + Much more: to the great surprise of the princess and the young workgirl, + as the glances which Djalma cast upon Adrienne went (as it were) deeper + into that pure soul, not only did the Indian grow calm, but, by a kind of + transfiguration, his countenance seemed to borrow her serene expression, + and reflect, as in a mirror, the noble serenity impressed on the young + lady’s features. Let us explain physically this moral revolution, as + consoling to the terrified workgirl, as provoking to the princess. Hardly + had the princess distilled the atrocious calumny from her venomous lips, + than Djalma, then standing before the fireplace, had, in the first + paroxysm of his fury, advanced a step towards her; but, wishing as it were + to moderate his rage, he held by the marble chimney-piece, which he + grasped with iron strength. A convulsive trembling shook his whole body, + and his features, altered and contracted, became almost frightful. + Adrienne, on her part, when she heard the accusation, yielding to a first + impulse of just indignation, even as Djalma had yielded to one of blind + fury, rose abruptly, with offended pride flashing from her eyes; but, + almost immediately appeased by the consciousness of her own purity, her + charming face resumed its expression of adorable serenity. It was then + that her eyes met Djalma’s. For a second, the young lady was even + more afflicted than terrified at the threatening and formidable expression + of the young Indian’s countenance. “Can stupid indignity + exasperate him to this degree?” said Adrienne to herself. “Does + he suspect me; then?” + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:65%;"> + <img src="images/30423m.jpg" alt="30423m” width=" /><br /> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/30423.jpg"><i>Original</i></a> + </h5> + <p> + But to this reflection, as rapid as it was painful, succeeded the most + lively joy, when the eyes of Adrienne rested for a short time on those of + the Indian, and she saw his agitated countenance grow calm as if by magic, + and become radiant and beautiful as before. Thus was the abominable plot + of the princess de Saint-Dizier utterly confounded by the sincere and + confiding expression of Adrienne’s face. That was not all. At the + moment, when, as a spectator of this mute and expressive scene (which + proved so well the wondrous sympathy of those two beings, who, without + speaking a word, had understood and satisfied each other), the princess + was choking with rage and vexation—Adrienne, with a charming smile + and gesture, extended her fair hand to Djalma, who, kneeling, imprinted on + it a kiss of fire, which sent a light blush to the forehead of the young + lady. + </p> + <p> + Then the Hindoo, placing himself on the ermine carpet at the feet of + Mdlle. de Cardoville, in an attitude full of grace: and respect, rested + his chin on the palm of one of his hands, and gazed on her silently, in a + sort of mute adoration—while Adrienne, bending over him with a happy + smile “looked at the babies in his eyes,” as the song says, + with as much amorous complacency, as if the hateful princess had not been + present. But soon, as if something were wanting to complete her happiness, + Adrienne beckoned to Mother Bunch, and made her sit down by her side. + Then, with her hand clasped in that of this excellent friend, Mdlle. de + Cardoville smiled on Djalma, stretched adoringly at her feet, and cast on + the dismayed princess a look of such calm and firm serenity, so nobly + expressive of the invincible quiet of her happiness, and her lofty disdain + of all calumnious attacks, that the Princess de Saint-Dizier, confused and + stupefied, murmured some hardly intelligible words, in a voice trembling + with passion, and, completely losing her presence of mind, rushed towards + the door. But, at this moment, the hunchback, who feared some ambush, some + perfidious plot in the background, resolved, after exchanging a glance + with Adrienne, to accompany the princess to her carriage. + </p> + <p> + The angry disappointment of the Princess de Saint-Dizier, when she saw + herself thus followed and watched, appeared so comical to Mdlle. de + Cardoville that she could not help laughing aloud; and it was to the sound + of contemptuous hilarity that the hypocritical princess, with rage and + despair in her heart, quitted the house to which she had hoped to bring + trouble end misery. Adrienne and Djalma were left alone. Before relating + the scene which took place between them, a few retrospective words are + indispensable. It will easily be imagined, that since Mdlle. de Cardoville + and the Oriental had been brought into such close contact, after so many + disappointments, their days had passed away like a dream of happiness. + Adrienne had especially taken pains to bring to light, one by one, all the + generous qualities of Djalma, of which she had read so much in her books + of travels. The young lady had imposed on herself this tender and patient + study of Djalma’s character, not only to justify to her own mind the + intensity of her love, but because this period of trial, to which she had + assigned a term, enabled her to temper and divert the violence of Djalma’s + passion—a task the more meritorious, as she herself was of the same + ardent temperament. For, in those two lovers, the finest qualities of + sense and soul seemed exactly to balance each other, and heaven had + bestowed on them the rarest beauty of form, and the most adorable + excellence of heart, as if to legitimatize the irresistible attraction + which drew and bound them together. What, then, was to be the term of this + painful trial, which Adrienne had imposed on Djalma and on herself? This + is what Mdlle. de Cardoville intended to tell the prince, in the interview + she had with him, after the abrupt departure of the Princess de + Saint-Dizier. + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:65%;"> + <img src="images/30429m.jpg" alt="30429m” width=" /><br /> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/30429.jpg"><i>Original</i></a> + </h5> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0165" id="link2HCH0165"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER LX. THE ORDEAL. + </h2> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">A</span>drienne de + Cardoville and Djalma had remained alone. Such was the noble confidence + which had succeeded in the Hindoo’s mind to his first movement of + unreflecting fury, caused by the infamous calumny, that, once alone with + Adrienne, he did not even allude to that shameful accusation. + </p> + <p> + On her side (touching and admirable sympathy of those two hearts!), the + young lady was too proud, conscious of the purity of her love, to descend + to any justification of herself. + </p> + <p> + She would have considered it an insult both to herself and him. Therefore, + the lovers began their interview, as if the princess had never made any + such remark. The same contempt was extended to the papers, which the + princess had brought with her to prove the imminent ruin to which Adrienne + was exposed. The young lady had laid them down, without reading them, on a + stand within her reach. She made a graceful sign to Djalma to seat himself + by her side, and accordingly he quitted, not without regret, the place he + had occupied at her feet. + </p> + <p> + “My love,” said Adrienne, in a grave and tender voice, “you + have often impatiently asked me, when would come the term of the trial we + have laid upon ourselves. That moment is at hand.” + </p> + <p> + Djalma started, and could not restrain a cry of surprise and joy; but this + almost trembling exclamation was so soft and sweet, that it seemed rather + the expression of ineffable gratitude, than of exulting passion. + </p> + <p> + Adrienne continued: “Separated—surrounded by treachery and + fraud—mutually deceived as to each other’s sentiments—we + yet loved on, and in that followed an irresistible attraction, stronger + than every opposing influence. But since then, in these days of happy + retirement from the world, we have learned to value and esteem each other + more. Left to ourselves in perfect freedom, we have had the courage to + resist every temptation, that hereafter we might be happy without remorse. + During these days, in which our hearts had been laid open to each other, + we have read them thoroughly. Yes, Djalma! I believe in you, and you in me—I + find in you all that you find in me—every possible human security + for our future happiness. But this love must yet be consecrated; and in + the eyes of the world, in which we are called upon to live, marriage is + the only consecration, and marriage enchains one’s whole life.” + </p> + <p> + Djalma looked at the young lady with surprise. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, one’s whole life! and yet who can answer for the + sentiments of a whole life?” resumed Adrienne. “A God, that + could see into the future, could alone bind irrevocably certain hearts for + their own happiness; but, alas! to human eyes the future is impenetrable. + Therefore, to accept indissoluble ties, for any longer than one can answer + for a present sentiment, is to commit an act of selfish and impious folly.” + </p> + <p> + Djalma made no reply, but, with an almost respectful gesture, he urged the + speaker to continue. + </p> + <p> + “And then,” proceeded she, with a mixture of tenderness and + pride, “from respect for your dignity and mine, I would never + promise to keep a law made by man against woman, with contemptuous and + brutal egotism—a law, which denies to woman soul, mind, and heart—a + law, which none can accept, without being either a slave or perjured—a + law, which takes from the girl her name, reduces the wife to a state of + degrading inferiority, denies to the mother all rights over her own + children, and enslaves one human creature to the will of another, who is + in all respects her equal in the sight of God!—You know, my love,” + added the young lady, with passionate enthusiasm, “how much I honor + you, whose father was called the Father of the Generous. I do not then + fear, noble and valiant heart, to see you use against me these tyrannical + powers; but, throughout my life, I never uttered a falsehood, and our love + is too sacred and celestial to be purchased by a double perjury. No, never + will I swear to observe a law, that my dignity, and my reason refuse to + sanction. If, to-morrow, the freedom of divorce were established, and the + rights of women recognized, I should be willing to observe usages, which + would then be in accordance with my conscience, and with what is just, + possible, and humane.” Then, after a pause, Adrienne continued, with + such deep and sweet emotion, that a tear of tenderness veiled her + beauteous eyes: “Oh! if you knew, my love, what your love is to me: + if you knew how dear and sacred I hold your happiness—you would + excuse, you would understand, these generous superstitions of a loving and + honest heart, which could only see a fatal omen in forms degraded by + falsehood and perjury. What I wish, is, to attach you by love, to bind you + in chains of happiness—and to leave you free, that I may owe your + constancy only to your affection.” + </p> + <p> + Djalma had listened to the young girl with passionate attention. Proud and + generous himself, he admired this proud and generous character. After a + moment’s meditative silence, he answered, in his sweet, sonorous + voice, in an almost solemn tone: “Like you, I hold in detestation, + falsehood and perjury. Like you, I think that man degrades himself, by + accepting the right of being a cowardly tyrant, even though resolved never + to use the power. Like you, I could not bear the thought, that I owed all + I most valued, not to your love alone, but to the eternal constraint of an + indissoluble bond. Like you, I believe there is no dignity but in freedom. + But you have said, that, for this great and holy love, you demand a + religious consecration; and if you reject vows, that you cannot make + without folly and perjury, are there then others, which your reason and + your heart approve?—Who will pronounce the required blessing? To + whom must these vows be spoken?” + </p> + <p> + “In a few days, my love, I believe I shall be able to tell you all. + Every evening, after your departure, I have no other thought. I wish to + find the means of uniting yourself and me—in the eyes of God, not of + the law—without offending the habits and prejudices of a world, in + which it may suit us hereafter to live. Yes, my friend! when you know + whose are the noble hands, that are to join ours together, who is to bless + and glorify God in our union—a sacred union, that will leave us + worthy and free—you will say, I am sure, that never purer hands + could have been laid upon us. Forgive me, friend! all this is in earnest—yes, + earnest as our love, earnest as our happiness. If my words seem to you + strange, my thoughts unreasonable, tell it me, love! We will seek and find + some better means, to reconcile that we owe to heaven, with what we owe to + the world and to ourselves. It is said, that lovers are beside themselves,” + added the young lady, with a smile, “but I think that no creatures + are more reasonable.” + </p> + <p> + “When I hear you speak thus of our happiness,” said Djalma, + deeply moved, “with so much calm and earnest tenderness, I think I + see a mother occupied with the future prospects of her darling child—trying + to surround him with all that can make him strong, valiant, and generous—trying + to remove far from him all that is ignoble and unworthy. You ask me to + tell you if your thoughts seem strange to me, Adrienne. You forget, that + what makes my faith in our love, is my feeling exactly as you do. What + offends you, offends me also; what disgusts you, disgusts me. Just now, + when you cited to me the laws of this country, which respect in a woman + not even a mother’s right—I thought with pride of our + barbarous countries, where woman, though a slave, is made free when she + becomes a mother. No, no; such laws are not made either for you or me. Is + it not to prove your sacred respect for our love, to wish to raise it + above the shameful servitude that would degrade it? You see, Adrienne, I + have often heard said by the priests of my country, that there were beings + inferior to the gods, but superior to every other creature. I did not + believe those priests; but now I do.” These last words were uttered, + not in the tone of flattery, but with an accent of sincere conviction, and + with that sort of passionate veneration and almost timid fervor, which + mark the believer talking of his faith; but what is impossible to + describe, is the ineffable harmony of these almost religious words, with + the mild, deep tone of the young Oriental’s voice—as well as + the ardent expression of amorous melancholy, which gave an irresistible + charm to his enchanting features. + </p> + <p> + Adrienne had listened to Djalma with an indescribable mixture of joy, + gratitude, and pride. Laying her hand on her bosom, as if to keep down its + violent pulsations, she resumed, as she looked at the prince with delight: + “Behold him, ever the same!—just, good, great!—Oh, my + heart! my heart! how proudly it beats. Blessed be God, who created me for + this adored lover! He must mean to astonish the world, by the prodigies of + tenderness and charity, that such a love may produce. They do not yet know + the sovereign might of free, happy, ardent love. Yes, Djalma! on the day + when our hands are joined together, what hymns of gratitude will ascend to + heaven!—Ah! they do not know the immense, the insatiable longing for + joy aria delight, which possesses two hearts like ours; they do not know + what rays of happiness stream from the celestial halo of such a flame!—Oh, + yes! I feel it. Many tears will be dried, many cold hearts warmed, at the + divine fire of our love. And it will be by the benedictions of those we + serve, that they will learn the intoxication of our rapture!” + </p> + <p> + To the dazzled eyes of Djalma, Adrienne appeared more and more an ideal + being—partaking of the Divinity by her goodness, of the animal + nature by passion—for, yielding to the intensity of excitement, + Adrienne fixed upon Djalma looks that sparkled with love. + </p> + <p> + ‘Then, almost beside himself, the Asiatic fell prostrate at the feet + of the maiden, and exclaimed, in a supplicating voice: “Mercy! my + courage fails me. Have pity on me! do not talk thus. Oh, that day! what + years of my life would I not give to hasten it!” + </p> + <p> + “Silence! no blasphemy. Do not your years belong to me?” + </p> + <p> + “Adrienne! you love me!” + </p> + <p> + The young lady did not answer; but her half-veiled, burning glance, dealt + the last blow to reason. Seizing her hands in his own, he exclaimed, with + a tremulous voice: “That day, in which we shall mount to heaven, in + which we shall be gods in happiness—why postpone it any longer?” + </p> + <p> + “Because our love must be consecrated by the benediction of heaven.” + </p> + <p> + “Are we not free?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes, my love; we are free. Let us be worthy of our liberty!” + </p> + <p> + “Adrienne! mercy!” + </p> + <p> + “I ask you also to have mercy—to have mercy on the sacredness + of our love. Do not profane it in its very flower. Believe my heart! + believe my presentiments! to profane it would be to kill. Courage, my + adored lover! a few days longer—and then happiness—without + regret, and without remorse!” + </p> + <p> + “And, until then, hell! tortures without a name! You do not, cannot + know what I suffer when I leave your presence. Your image follows me, your + breath burns me up; I cannot sleep, but call on you every night with sighs + and tears—just as I called on, you, when I thought you did not love + me—and yet I know you love me, I know you are mine. But to see you + every day more beautiful, more adored—and every day to quit you more + impassioned—oh! you cannot tell—” + </p> + <p> + Djalma was unable to proceed. What he said of his devouring tortures, + Adrienne had felt, perhaps even more intensely. Electrified by the + passionate words of Djalma, so beautiful in his excitement, her courage + failed, and she perceived that an irresistible languor was creeping over + her. By a last chaste effort of the will, she rose abruptly, and hastening + to the door, which communicated with Mother Bunch’s chamber, she + exclaimed: “My sister! help me!” + </p> + <p> + In another moment, Mdlle. de Cardoville, her face bathed in tears, clasped + the young sempstress in her arms; while Djalma knelt respectfully on the + threshold he did not dare to pass. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0166" id="link2HCH0166"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER LXI. AMBITION. + </h2> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">A</span> few days after + the interview of Djalma and Adrienne, just described, Rodin was alone in + his bed-chamber, in the house in the Rue de Vaugirard, walking up and down + the room where he had so valiantly undergone the moxas of Dr. Baleinier. + With his hands thrust into the hind-pockets of his greatcoat, and his head + bowed upon his breast, the Jesuit seemed to be reflecting profoundly, and + his varying walk, now slow, now quick, betrayed the agitation of his mind. + </p> + <p> + “On the side of Rome,” said Rodin to himself, “I am + tranquil. All is going well. The abdication is as good as settled, and if + I can pay them the price agreed, the Prince Cardinal can secure me a + majority of nine voices in the conclave. Our General is with me; the + doubts of Cardinal Malipieri are at an end, or have found no echo. Yet I + am not quite easy, with regard to the reported correspondence between + Father d’Aigrigny and Malipieri. I have not been able to intercept + any of it. No matter; that soldier’s business is settled. A little + patience and he will be wiped out.” + </p> + <p> + Here the pale lips were contracted by one of those frightful smiles, which + gave to Rodin’s countenance so diabolical an expression. + </p> + <p> + After a pause, he resumed: “The funeral of the freethinker, the + philanthropist, the workman’s friend, took place yesterday at St. + Herem. Francis Hardy went off in a fit of ecstatic delirium. I had his + donation, it is true; but this is more certain. Everything may be disputed + in this world; the dead dispute nothing.” + </p> + <p> + Rodin remained in thought for some moments; then he added, in a grave + tone: “There remain this red-haired wench and her mulatto. This is + the twenty-seventh of May; the first of June approaches, and these turtle + doves still seem invulnerable. The princess thought she had hit upon a + good plan, and I should have thought so too. It was a good idea to mention + the discovery of Agricola Baudoin in the madcap’s room, for it made + the Indian tiger roar with savage jealousy. Yes: but then the dove began + to coo, and hold out her pretty beak, and the foolish tiger sheathed his + claws, and rolled on the ground before her. It’s a pity, for there + was some sense in the scheme.” + </p> + <p> + The walk of Rodin became more and more agitated. “Nothing is more + extraordinary,” continued he, “than the generative succession + of ideas. In comparing this red-haired jade to a dove (colombe), I could + not help thinking of that infamous old woman, Sainte-Colombe, whom that + big rascal Jacques Dumoulin pays his court to, and whom the Abbe Corbinet + will finish, I hope, by turning to good account. I have often remarked, + that, as a poet may find an excellent rhyme by mere chance, so the germ of + the best ideas is sometimes found in a word, or in some absurd resemblance + like the present. That abominable hag, Sainte-Colombo, and the pretty + Adrienne de Cardoville, go as well together, as a ring would suit a cat, + or a necklace a fish. Well, there is nothing in it.” + </p> + <p> + Hardly had Rodin pronounced these words, than he started suddenly, and his + face shone with a fatal joy. Then it assumed an expression of meditative + astonishment, as happens when chance reveals some unexpected discovery to + the surprised and charmed inquirer after knowledge. + </p> + <p> + Soon, with raised head and sparkling eye, his hollow cheeks swelling with + joy and pride, Rodin folded his arms in triumph on his breast, and + exclaimed: “Oh! how admirable and marvellous are these mysterious + evolutions of the mind; how incomprehensible is the chain of human + thought, which, starting from an absurd jingle of words, arrives at a + splendid or luminous idea! Is it weakness? or is it strength? Strange—very + strange! I compare the red-haired girl to a dove—a colombe. That + makes me think of the hag, who traded in the bodies and souls of so many + creatures. Vulgar proverbs occur to me, about a ring and a cat, a fish and + a necklace—and suddenly, at the word NECKLACE, a new light dawns + upon me. Yes: that one word NECKLACE shall be to me a golden key, to open + the portals of my brain, so long foolishly closed.” + </p> + <p> + And, after again walking hastily up and down, Rodin continued: “Yes, + it is worth attempting. The more I reflect upon it, the more feasible it + appears. Only how to get at that wretch, Saint-Colombe? Well, there is + Jacques Dumoulin, and the other—where to find her? That is the + stumbling-block. I must not shout before I am out of the wood.” + </p> + <p> + Rodin began again to walk, biting his nails with an air of deep thought. + For some moments, such was the tension of his mind, large drops of sweat + stood on his yellow brow. He walked up and down, stopped, stamped with his + foot, now raised his eyes as if in search of an inspiration, and now + scratched his head violently with his left hand, whilst he continued to + gnaw the nails of the right. Finally, from time to time, he uttered + exclamations of rage, despondency, or hope, as by turns they took + possession of his mind. If the cause of this monster’s agitation had + not been horrible, it would have been a curious and interesting spectacle + to watch the labors of that powerful brain—to follow, as it were, on + that shifting countenance, the progress and development of the project, on + which he was now concentrating all the resources of his strong intellect. + At length, the work appeared to be near completion, for Rodin resumed: + “Yes, yes! it is bold, hazardous—but then it is prompt, and + the consequences may be incalculable. Who can foresee the effects of the + explosion of a mine?” + </p> + <p> + Then, yielding to a movement of enthusiasm, which was hardly natural to + him, the Jesuit exclaimed, with rapture: “Oh, the passions! the + passions! what a magical instrument do they form, if you do but touch the + keys with a light, skillful, and vigorous hand! How beautiful too is the + power of thought! Talk of the acorn that becomes an oak, the seed that + grows up to the corn—the seed takes months, the acorn centuries, to + unfold its splendors—but here is a little word in eight letters, + necklace and this word, falling into my brain but a few minutes ago, has + grown and grown till it has become larger than any oak. Yes, that word is + the germ of an idea, that, like the oak, lifts itself up towards heaven, + for the greater glory of the Lord—such as they call Him, and such as + I would assert Him to be, should I attain—and I shall attain—for + these miserable Renneponts will pass away like a shadow. And what matters + it, after all, to the moral order I am reserved to guide, whether these + people live or die? What do such lives weigh in the balance of the great + destinies of the world? while this inheritance which I shall boldly fling + into the scale, will lift me to a sphere, from which one commands many + kings, many nations—let them say and make what noise they will. The + idiots—the stupid idiots! or rather, the kind, blessed, adorable + idiots! They think they have crushed us, when they say to us men of the + church: ‘You take the spiritual, but we will keep the temporal!’—Oh, + their conscience or their modesty inspires them well, when it bids them + not meddle with spiritual things! They abandon the spiritual! they despise + it, they will have nothing to do with it—oh, the venerable asses! + they do not see, that, even as they go straight to the mill, it is by the + spiritual that we go straight to the temporal. As if the mind did not + govern the body! They leave us the spiritual—that is, command of the + conscience, soul, heart, and judgment—the spiritual—that is, + the distribution of heaven’s rewards, and punishments, and pardons—without + check, without control, in the secrecy of the confessional—and that + dolt, the temporal, has nothing but brute matter for his portion, and yet + rubs his paunch for joy. Only, from time to time, he perceives, too late, + that, if he has the body, we have the soul, and that the soul governs the + body, and so the body ends by coming with us also—to the great + surprise of Master Temporal, who stands staring with his hands on his + paunch, and says: ‘Dear me! is it possible?’” + </p> + <p> + Then, with a laugh of savage contempt, Rodin began to walk with great + strides, and thus continued: “Oh! let me reach it—let me but + reach the place of SIXTUS V.—and the world shall see (one day, when + it awakes) what it is to have the spiritual power in hands like mine—in + the hands of a priest, who, for fifty years, has lived hardly, frugally, + chastely, and who, were he pope, would continue to live hardly, frugally, + chastely!” + </p> + <p> + Rodin became terrible, as he spoke thus. All the sanguinary, sacrilegious, + execrable ambition of the worst popes seemed written in fiery characters + on the brow of this son of Ignatius. A morbid desire of rule seemed to + stir up the Jesuit’s impure blood; he was bathed in a burning sweat, + and a kind of nauseous vapor spread itself round about him. Suddenly, the + noise of a travelling-carriage, which entered the courtyard of the house, + attracted his attention. Regretting his momentary excitement, he drew from + his pocket his dirty white and red cotton handkerchief, and dipping it in + a glass of water, he applied it to his cheeks and temples, while he + approached the window, to look through the half-open blinds at the + traveller who had just arrived. The projection of a portico, over the door + at which the carriage had stopped, intercepted Rodin’s view. + </p> + <p> + “No matter,” said he, recovering his coolness: “I shall + know presently who is there. I must write at once to Jacques Dumoulin, to + come hither immediately. He served me well, with regard to that little + slut in the Rue Clovis, who made my hair stand on end with her infernal + Beranger. This time, Dumoulin may serve me again. I have him in my + clutches, and he will obey me.” + </p> + <p> + Rodin sat down to his desk and wrote. A few seconds later, some one + knocked at the door, which was double-locked, quite contrary to the rules + of the order. But, sure of his own influence and importance, Rodin, who + had obtained from the general permission to be rid for a time of the + inconvenient company of a socius, often took upon himself to break through + a number of the rules. A servant entered and delivered a letter to Rodin. + Before opening it the latter said to the man: “What carriage is that + which just arrived?” + </p> + <p> + “It comes from Rome, father,” answered the servant, bowing. + </p> + <p> + “From Rome!” said Rodin, hastily; and in spite of himself, a + vague uneasiness was expressed in his countenance. But, still holding the + letter in his hands, he added: “Who comes in the carriage.” + </p> + <p> + “A reverend father of our blessed Company.” + </p> + <p> + Notwithstanding his ardent curiosity, for he knew that a reverend father, + travelling post, is always charged with some important mission, Rodin + asked no more questions on the subject, but said, as he pointed to the + paper in his hand: “Whence comes this letter?” + </p> + <p> + “From our house at St. Herem, father.” + </p> + <p> + Rodin looked more attentively at the writing, and recognized the hand of + Father d’Aigrigny, who had been commissioned to attend M. Hardy in + his last moments. The letter ran as follows: + </p> + <p> + “I send a despatch to inform your reverence of a fact which is, + perhaps, more singular than important. After the funeral of M. Francis + Hardy, the coffin, which contained his remains, had been provisionally + deposited in a vault beneath our chapel, until it could be removed to the + cemetery of the neighboring town. This morning, when our people went down + into the vault, to make the necessary preparations for the removal of the + body—the coffin had disappeared. + </p> + <p> + “That is strange indeed,” said Rodin with a start. Then, he + continued to read: + </p> + <p> + “All search has hitherto been vain, to discover the authors of the + sacrilegious deed. The chapel being, as you know, at a distance from the + house, they were able to effect an entry without disturbing us. We have + found traces of a four-wheeled carriage on the damp ground in the + neighborhood; but, at some little distance from the chapel, these marks + are lost in the sand, and it has been impossible to follow them any + farther.” + </p> + <p> + “Who can have carried away this body?” said Rodin, with a + thoughtful air. “Who could have any interest in doing so?” + </p> + <p> + He continued to read: + </p> + <p> + “Luckily, the certificate of death is quite correct. I sent for a + doctor from Etampes, to prove the disease, and no question can be raised + on that point. The donation is therefore good and valid in every respect, + but I think it best to inform your reverence of what has happened, that + you may take measures accordingly, etc., etc.” + </p> + <p> + After a moment’s reflection, Rodin said to himself: “D’Aigrigny + is right in his remark; it is more singular than important. Still, it + makes one think. We must have an eye to this affair.” + </p> + <p> + Turning towards the servant, who had brought him the letter, Rodin gave + him the note he had just written to Ninny Moulin, and said to him: “Let + this letter be taken instantly to its address, and let the bearer wait for + an answer.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, father.” + </p> + <p> + At the moment the servant left the room, a reverend father entered, and + said to Rodin, “Father Caboccini of Rome has just arrived, with a + mission from our general to your reverence.” + </p> + <p> + At these words, Rodin’s blood ran cold, but he maintained his + immovable calmness, and said simply: “Where is Father Caboccini?” + </p> + <p> + “In the next room, father.” + </p> + <p> + “Beg him to walk in, and leave us,” said the other. + </p> + <p> + A second after, Father Caboccini of Rome entered the room and was left + alone with Rodin. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0167" id="link2HCH0167"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER LXII. TO A SOCIUS, A SOCIUS AND A HALF. + </h2> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>he Reverend Father + Caboccini, the Roman Jesuit who now came to visit Rodin, was a short man + of about thirty years of age, plump, in good condition, and with an + abdomen that swelled out his black cassock. The good little father was + blind with one eye, but his remaining organ of vision sparkled with + vivacity. His rosy countenance was gay, smiling, joyous, splendidly + crowned with thick chestnut hair, which curled like a wax doll’s. + His address was cordial to familiarity, and his expansive and petulant + manners harmonized well with his general appearance. In a second, Rodin + had taken his measure of the Italian emissary; and as he knew the practice + of his Company, and the ways of Rome, he felt by no means comfortable at + sight of this jolly little father, with such affable manners. He would + have less feared some tall, bony priest, with austere and sepulchral + countenance, for he knew that the Company loves to deceive by the outward + appearance of its agents; and if Rodin guessed rightly, the cordial + address of this personage would rather tend to show that he was charged + with some fatal mission. + </p> + <p> + Suspicious, attentive, with eye and mind on the watch, like an old wolf, + expecting an attack, Rodin advanced as usual, slowly and tortuously + towards the little man, so as to have time to examine him thoroughly, and + penetrate beneath his jovial outside. But the Roman left him no space for + that purpose. In his impetuous affection he threw himself right on the + neck of Rodin, pressed him in his arms with an effusion of tenderness, and + kissed him over and over again upon both cheeks, so loudly and plentifully + that the echo resounded through the apartment. In his life Rodin had never + been so treated. More and more uneasy at the treachery which must needs + lurk under such warm embraces, and irritated by his own evil + presentiments, the French Jesuit did, all he could to extricate himself + from the Roman’s exaggerated tokens of tenderness. But the latter + kept his hold; his arms, though short, were vigorous, and Rodin was kissed + over and over again, till the little one-eyed man was quite out of breath. + It is hardly necessary to state that these embraces were accompanied by + the most friendly, affectionate, and fraternal exclamations—all in + tolerably good French, but with a strong Italian accent, which we muss beg + the reader to supply for himself, after we have given a single specimen. + It will perhaps be remembered that, fully aware of the danger he might + possibly incur by his ambitious machinations, and knowing from history + that the use of poison had often been considered at Rome as a state + necessity, Rodin, on being suddenly attacked with the cholera, had + exclaimed, with a furious glance at Cardinal Malipieri, “I am + poisoned!” + </p> + <p> + The same apprehensions occurred involuntarily to the Jesuit’s mind + as he tried, by useless efforts, to escape from the embraces of the + Italian emissary; and he could not help muttering to himself, “This + one-eyed fellow is a great deal too fond. I hope there is no poison under + his Judas-kisses.” At last, little Father Caboccini, being quite out + of breath, was obliged to relinquish his hold on Rodin’s neck, who, + readjusting his dirty collar, and his old cravat and waistcoat, somewhat + in disorder in consequence of this hurricane of caresses, said in a gruff + tone, “Your humble servant, father, but you need not kiss quite so + hard.” + </p> + <p> + Without making any answer to this reproach, the little father riveted his + one eye upon Rodin with an expression of enthusiasm, and exclaimed, whilst + he accompanied his words with petulant gestures, “At lazt I zee te + zuperb light of our zacred Company, and can zalute him from my heart—vonse + more, vonse more.” + </p> + <p> + As the little father had already recovered his breath, and was about to + rush once again into Rodin’s arms, the latter stepped back hastily, + and held out his arm to keep him off, saying, in allusion to the illogical + metaphor employed by Father Caboccini, “First of all, father, one + does not embrace a light—and then I am not a light—I am a + humble and obscure laborer in the Lord’s vineyard.” + </p> + <p> + The Roman replied with enthusiasm (we shall henceforth translate his + gibberish), “You are right, father, we cannot embrace a light, but + we can prostrate ourselves before it, and admire its dazzling brightness.” + </p> + <p> + So saying, Caboccini was about to suit the action to the word, and to + prostrate himself before Rodin, had not the latter prevented this mode of + adulation by seizing the Roman by the arm and exclaiming, “This is + mere idolatry, father. Pass over my qualities, and tell me what is the + object of your journey.” + </p> + <p> + “The object, my dear father, fills me with joy and happiness. I have + endeavored to show you my affection by my caresses, for my heart is + overflowing. I have hardly been able to restrain myself during my journey + hither, for my heart rushed to meet you. The object transports, delights, + enchants me—” + </p> + <p> + “But what enchants you?” cried Rodin, exasperated by these + Italian exaggerations. “What is the object?” + </p> + <p> + “This rescript of our very reverend and excellent General will + inform you, my clear father.” + </p> + <p> + Caboccini drew from his pocket-book a folded paper, with three seals, + which he kissed respectfully, and delivered to Rodin, who himself kissed + it in his turn, and opened it with visible anxiety. While he read it the + countenance of the Jesuit remained impassible, but the pulsation of the + arteries on his temples announced his internal agitation. Yet he put the + letter coolly into his pocket, and looking at the Roman, said to him, + “Be it as our excellent General has commanded!” + </p> + <p> + “Then, father,” cried Caboccini, with a new effusion of + tenderness and admiration, “I shall be the shadow of your light, + and, in fact, your second self. I shall have the happiness of being always + with you, day and night, and of acting as your socius, since, after having + allowed you to be without one for some time, according to your wish, and + for the interest of our blessed Company, our excellent General now thinks + fit to send me from Rome, to fill that post about your person—an + unexpected, an immense favor, which fills me with gratitude to our + General, and with love to you, my dear, my excellent father!” + </p> + <p> + “It is well played,” thought Rodin; “but I am not so + soft, and ‘tis only among the blind that your Cyclops are kings!” + </p> + <p> + The evening of the day in which this scene took place between the Jesuit + and his new socius, Ninny Moulin, after receiving in presence of Caboccini + the instructions of Rodin, went straight to Madame de la Sainte-Colombe’s. + </p> + <p> + This woman had made her fortune, at the time of the allies taking Paris, + by keeping one of those “pretty milliner’s shops,” whose + “pink bonnets” have run into a proverb not extinct in these + days when bonnets are not known. Ninny Moulin had no better well to draw + inspiration from when, as now, he had to find out, as per Rodin’s + order, a girl of an age and appearance which, singularly enough, were + closely resembling those of Mdlle. de Cardoville. + </p> + <p> + No doubt of Ninny Moulin’s success in this mission, for the next + morning Rodin, whose countenance wore a triumphant expression, put with + his own hand a letter into the post. + </p> + <p> + This letter was addressed: + </p> + <p> + “To M. Agricola Baudoin, “No. 2, Rue Brise-Miche, “Paris.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0168" id="link2HCH0168"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER LXIII. FARINGHEA’S AFFECTION. + </h2> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">I</span>t will, perhaps, + be remembered that Djalma, when he heard for the first time that he was + beloved by Adrienne, had, in the fulness of his joy, spoken thus to + Faringhea, whose treachery he had just discovered, “You leagued with + my enemies, and I had done you no harm. You are wicked, because you are no + doubt unhappy. I will strive to make you happy, so that you may be good. + Would you have gold?—you shall have it. Would you have a friend?—though + you are a slave, a king’s son offers you his friendship.” + </p> + <p> + Faringhea had refused the gold, and appeared to accept the friendship of + the son of Kadja-sing. Endowed with remarkable intelligence, and + extraordinary power of dissimulation the half-breed had easily persuaded + the prince of the sincerity of his repentance, and obtained credit for his + gratitude and attachment from so confiding and generous a character. + Besides, what motives could Djalma have to suspect the slave, now become + his friend? Certain of the love of Mdlle. de Cardoville, with whom he + passed a portion of every day, her salutary influence would have guarded + him against any dangerous counsels or calumnies of the half-caste, a + faithful and secret instrument of Rodin, and attached by him to the + Company. But Faringhea, whose tact was amazing, did not act so lightly; he + never spoke to the prince of Mdlle. de Cardoville, and waited + unobtrusively for the confidential communications into which Djalma was + sometimes hurried by his excessive joy. A few days after the interview + last described between Adrienne and Djalma, and on the morrow of the day + when Rodin, certain of the success of Ninny Moulin’s mission to + Sainte Colombe, had himself put a letter in the post to the address of + Agricola Baudoin, the half-caste, who for some time had appeared oppressed + with a violent grief, seemed to get so much worse, that the prince, struck + with the desponding air of the man, asked him kindly and repeatedly the + cause of his sorrow. But Faringhea, while he gratefully thanked the prince + for the interest he took in him, maintained the most absolute silence and + reserve on the subject of his grief. + </p> + <p> + These preliminaries will enable the reader to understand the following + scene, which took place about noon in the house in the Rue de Clichy + occupied by the Hindoo. Contrary to his habit, Djalma had not passed that + morning with Adrienne. He had been informed the evening before, by the + young lady, that she must ask of him the sacrifice of this whole day, to + take the necessary measures to make their marriage sacred and acceptable + in the eyes of the world, and yet free from the restrictions which she and + Djalma disapproved. As for the means to be employed by Mdlle. de + Cardoville to attain this end, and the name of the pure and honorable + person who was to consecrate their union, these were secrets which, not + belonging exclusively to the young lady, could not yet be communicated to + Djalma. To the Indian, so long accustomed to devote every instant to + Adrienne, this day seemed interminable. By turns a prey to the most + burning agitation, and to a kind of stupor, in which he plunged himself to + escape from the thoughts that caused his tortures, Djalma lay stretched + upon a divan, with his face buried in his hands, as if to shut out the + view of a too enchanting vision. Suddenly, without knocking at the door, + as usual, Faringhea entered the prince’s apartment. + </p> + <p> + At the noise the half-caste made in entering Djalma started, raised his + head, and looked round him with surprise; but, on seeing the pale agitated + countenance of the slave, he rose hastily, and advancing towards him, + exclaimed, “What is the matter, Faringhea!” + </p> + <p> + After a moment’s silence, and as if struggling with a painful + feeling of hesitation, Faringhea threw himself at the feet of Djalma, and + murmured in a weak, despairing, almost supplicating voice: “I am + very miserable. Pity me, my good lord!” + </p> + <p> + The tone was so touching, the grief under which the half-breed suffered + seemed to give to his features, generally fixed and hard as bronze, such a + heart-rending expression, that Djalma was deeply affected, and, bending to + raise him from the ground, said to him, in a kindly voice: “Speak to + me! Confidence appeases the torments of the heart. Trust me, friend—for + my angel herself said to me, that happy love cannot bear to see tears + about him.” + </p> + <p> + “But unhappy love, miserable love, betrayed love—weeps tears + of blood,” replied Faringhea, with painful dejection. + </p> + <p> + “Of what love dost thou speak?” asked Djalma, in surprise. + </p> + <p> + “I speak of my love,” answered the half-caste, with a gloomy + air. + </p> + <p> + “Of your love?” said Djalma, more and more astonished; not + that the half caste, still young, and with a countenance of sombre beauty, + appeared to him incapable of inspiring or feeling the tender passion, but + that, until now, he had never imagined him capable of conceiving so deep a + sorrow. + </p> + <p> + “My lord,” resumed the half-caste, “you told me, that + misfortune had made me wicked, and that happiness would make me good. In + those words, I saw a presentiment, and a noble love entered my heart, at + the moment when hatred and treachery departed from it. I, the half-savage, + found a woman, beautiful and young, to respond to my passion. At least I + thought so. But I had betrayed you, my lord, and there is no happiness for + a traitor, even though he repent. In my turn, I have been shamefully + betrayed.” + </p> + <p> + Then, seeing the surprise of the prince, the half-caste added, as if + overwhelmed with confusion: “Do not mock me, my lord! The most + frightful tortures would not have wrung this confession from me; but you, + the son of a king, deigned to call the poor slave your friend!” + </p> + <p> + “And your friend thanks you for the confidence,” answered + Djalma. “Far from mocking, he will console you. Mock you! do you + think it possible?” + </p> + <p> + “Betrayed love merits contempt and insult,” said Faringhea, + bitterly. “Even cowards may point at one with scorn—for, in + this country, the sight of the man deceived in what is dearest to his + soul, the very life blood of his life, only makes people shrug their + shoulders and laugh.” + </p> + <p> + “But are you certain of this treachery?” said Djalma, mildly. + Then he added, with visible hesitation, that proved the goodness of his + heart: “Listen to me, and forgive me for speaking of the past! It + will only be another proof, that I cherish no evil memories, and that I + fully believe in your repentance and affection. Remember, that I also once + thought, that she, who is the angel of my life, did not love me—and + yet it was false. Who tells you, that you are not, like me, deceived by + false appearances?” + </p> + <p> + “Alas, my lord! could I only believe so! But I dare not hope it. My + brain wanders uncertain, I cannot come to any resolution, and therefore I + have recourse to you.” + </p> + <p> + “But what causes your suspicions?” + </p> + <p> + “Her coldness, which sometimes succeeds to apparent tenderness. The + refusals she gives me in the name of duty. Yes,” added the + half-caste, after a moment’s silence, “she reasons about her + love—a proof, that she has never loved me, or that she loves me no + more.” + </p> + <p> + “On the contrary, she perhaps loves you all the more, that she takes + into consideration the interest and the dignity of her love.” + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:65%;"> + <img src="images/30437m.jpg" alt="30437m” width=" /><br /> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/30437.jpg"><i>Original</i></a> + </h5> + <p> + “That is what they all say,” replied the half-caste, with + bitter irony, as he fixed a penetrating look on Djalma; “thus speak + all those who love weakly, coldly; but those who love valiantly, never + show these insulting suspicions. For them, a word from the man they adore + is a command; they do not haggle and bargain, for the cruel pleasure of + exciting the passion of their lover to madness, and so ruling him more + surely. No, what their lover asks of them, were it to cost life and honor, + they would grant it without hesitation—because, with them, the will + of the man they love is above every other consideration, divine and human. + But those crafty women, whose pride it is to tame and conquer man—who + take delight in irritating his passion, and sometimes appear on the point + of yielding to it—are demons, who rejoice in the tears and torments + of the wretch, that loves them with the miserable weakness of a child. + While we expire with love at their feet, the perfidious creatures are + calculating the effects of their refusals, and seeing how far they can go, + without quite driving their victim to despair. Oh! how cold and cowardly + are they, compared to the valiant, true-hearted women, who say to the men + of their choice: ‘Let me be thine to-day-and to-morrow, come shame, + despair, and death—it matters little! Be happy! my life is not worth + one tear of thine!” + </p> + <p> + Djalma’s brow had darkened, as he listened. Having kept inviolable + the secret of the various incidents of his passion for Mdlle. de + Cardoville, he could not but see in these words a quite involuntary + allusion to the delays and refusals of Adrienne. And yet Djalma suffered a + moment in his pride, at the thought of considerations and duties, that a + woman holds dearer than her love. But this bitter and painful thought was + soon effaced from the oriental’s mind, thanks to the beneficent + influence of the remembrance of Adrienne. His brow again cleared, and he + answered the half-caste, who was watching him attentively with a sidelong + glance: “You are deluded by grief. If you have no other reason to + doubt her you love, than these refusals and vague suspicions, be + satisfied! You are perhaps loved better than you can imagine.” + </p> + <p> + “Alas! would it were so, my lord!” replied the half-caste, + dejectedly, as if he had been deeply touched by the words of Djalma. + “Yet I say to myself: There is for this woman something stronger + than her love—delicacy, dignity, honor, what you will—but she + does not love me enough to sacrifice for me this something!” + </p> + <p> + “Friend, you are deceived,” answered Djalma, mildly, though + the words affected him with a painful impression. “The greater the + love of a woman, the more it should be chaste and noble. It is love itself + that awakens this delicacy and these scruples. He rules, instead of being + ruled.” + </p> + <p> + “That is true,” replied the half-caste, with bitter irony, + “Love so rules me, that this woman bids me love in her own fashion, + and I have only to submit.” + </p> + <p> + Pausing suddenly, Faringhea hid his face in his hands, and heaved a deep + drawn sigh. His features expressed a mixture of hate, rage, and despair, + at once so terrible and so painful, that Djalma, more and more affected, + exclaimed, as he seized the other’s hand: “Calm this fury, and + listen to the voice of friendship! It will disperse this evil influence. + Speak to me!” + </p> + <p> + “No, no! it is too dreadful!” + </p> + <p> + “Speak, I bid thee.” + </p> + <p> + “No! leave the wretch to his despair!” + </p> + <p> + “Do you think me capable of that?” said Djalma, with a mixture + of mildness and dignity, which seemed to make an impression on the half + caste. + </p> + <p> + “Alas!” replied he, hesitating; “do you wish to hear + more, my lord?” + </p> + <p> + “I wish to hear all.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, then! I have not told you all—for, at the moment of + making this confession, shame and the fear of ridicule kept me back. You + asked me what reason I had to believe myself betrayed. I spoke to you of + vague suspicions, refusals, coldness. That is not all—this evening—” + </p> + <p> + “Go on!” + </p> + <p> + “This evening—she made an appointment—with a man that + she prefers to me.” + </p> + <p> + “Who told you so?” + </p> + <p> + “A stranger who pitied my blindness.” + </p> + <p> + “And suppose the man deceived you—or deceives himself?” + </p> + <p> + “He has offered me proofs of what he advances.” + </p> + <p> + “What proofs?” + </p> + <p> + “He will enable me this evening to witness the interview. ‘It + may be,’ said he, ‘that this appointment may have no guilt in + it, notwithstanding appearances to the contrary. Judge for yourself, have + courage, and your cruel indecision will be at an end.’” + </p> + <p> + “And what did you answer?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing, my lord. My head wandered as it does now and I came to you + for advice.” + </p> + <p> + Then, making a gesture of despair, he proceeded with a savage laugh: + “Advice? It is from the blade of my kand-jiar that I should ask + counsel! It would answer: ‘Blood! blood!’” + </p> + <p> + Faringhea grasped convulsively the long dagger attached to his girdle. + There is a sort of contagion in certain forms of passion. At sight of + Faringhea’s countenance, agitated by jealous fury, Djalma shuddered—for + he remembered the fit of insane rage, with which he had been possessed, + when the Princess de Saint-Dizier had defied Adrienne to contradict her, + as to the discovery of Agricola Baudoin in her bed-chamber. But then, + reassured by the lady’s proud and noble bearing, Djalma had soon + learned to despise the horrible calumny, which Adrienne had not even + thought worthy of an answer. Still, two or three times, as the lightning + will flash suddenly across the clearest sky, the remembrance of that + shameful accusation had crossed the prince’s mind, like a streak of + fire, but had almost instantly vanished, in the serenity and happiness of + his ineffable confidence in Adrienne’s heart. These memories, + however, whilst they saddened the mind of Djalma, only made him more + compassionate with regard to Faringhea, than he might have been without + this strange coincidence between the position of the half-caste and his + own. Knowing, by his own experience, to what madness a blind fury may be + carried, and wishing to tame the half-caste by affectionate kindness, + Djalma said to him in a grave and mild tone: “I offered you my + friendship. I will now act towards you a friend.” + </p> + <p> + But Faringhea, seemingly a prey to a dull and mute frenzy, stood with + fixed and haggard eyes, as though he did not hear Djalma. + </p> + <p> + The latter laid his hand on his shoulder, and resumed: “Faringhea, + listen to me!” + </p> + <p> + “My lord,” said the half-caste, starting abruptly, as from a + dream, “forgive me—but—” + </p> + <p> + “In the anguish occasioned by these cruel suspicions, it is not of + your kandjiar that you must take counsel—but of your friend.” + </p> + <p> + “My lord—” + </p> + <p> + “To this interview, which will prove the innocence or the treachery + of your beloved, you will do well to go.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes!” said the half-caste, in a hollow voice, and with a + bitter smile: “I shall be there.” + </p> + <p> + “But you must not go alone.” + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean, my lord?” cried the half-caste. “Who + will accompany me?” + </p> + <p> + “I will.” + </p> + <p> + “You, my lord?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes—perhaps, to save you from a crime—for I know how + blind and unjust is the earliest outburst of rage.” + </p> + <p> + “But that transport gives us revenge!” cried the half-caste, + with a cruel smile. + </p> + <p> + “Faringhea, this day is all my own. I shall not leave you,” + said the prince, resolutely. “Either you shall not go to this + interview, or I will accompany you.” + </p> + <p> + The half-caste appeared conquered by this generous perseverance. He fell + at the feet of Djalma, pressed the prince’s hand respectfully to his + forehead and to his lips, and said: “My lord, be generous to the + end! forgive me!” + </p> + <p> + “For what should I forgive you?” + </p> + <p> + “Before I spoke to you, I had the audacity to think of asking for + what you have just freely offered. Not knowing to what extent my fury + might carry me, I had thought of asking you this favor, which you would + not perhaps grant to an equal, but I did not dare to do it. I shrunk even + from the avowal of the treachery I have cause to fear, and I came only to + tell you of my misery—because to you alone in all the world I could + tell it.” + </p> + <p> + It is impossible to describe the almost candid simplicity, with which the + half-breed pronounced these words, and the soft tones, mingled with tears, + which had succeeded his savage fury. Deeply affected, Djalma raised him + from the ground, and said: “You were entitled to ask of me a mark of + friendship. I am happy in having forestalled you. Courage! be of good + cheer! I will accompany you to this interview, and if my hopes do not + deceive me, you will find you have been deluded by false appearances.” + </p> + <p> + When the night was come, the half-breed and Djalma, wrapped in their + cloaks, got into a hackney-coach. Faringhea ordered the coachman to drive + to the house inhabited by Sainte-Colombe. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0169" id="link2HCH0169"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER LXIV. AN EVENING AT SAINTE-COLOMBE’S. + </h2> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">L</span>eaving Djalma and + Faringhea in the coach, on their way, a few words are indispensable before + continuing this scene. Ninny Moulin, ignorant of the real object of the + step he took at the instigation of Rodin, had, on the evening before, + according to orders received from the latter, offered a considerable sum + to Sainte-Colombe, to obtain from that creature (still singularly + rapacious) the use of her apartments for whole day. Sainte-Colombe, having + accepted this proposition, too advantageous to be refused, had set out + that morning with her servants, to whom she wished, she said, in return + for their good services, to give a day’s pleasure in the country. + Master of the house, Rodin, in a black wig, blue spectacles, and a cloak, + and with his mouth and chin buried in a worsted comforter—in a word, + perfectly disguised—had gone that morning to take a look at the + apartments, and to give his instructions to the half-caste. The latter, in + two hours from the departure of the Jesuit, had, thanks to his address and + intelligence, completed the most important preparation and returned in + haste to Djalma, to play with detestable hypocrisy the scene at which we + have just been present. + </p> + <p> + During the ride from the Rue de Clichy to the Rue de Richelieu, Faringhea + appeared plunged in a mournful reverie. Suddenly, he said to Djalma to a + quick tone: “My lord, if I am betrayed, I must have vengeance.” + </p> + <p> + “Contempt is a terrible revenge,” answered Djalma. + </p> + <p> + “No, no,” replied the half-caste, with an accent of repressed + rage. “It is not enough. The nearer the moment approaches, the more + I feel I must have blood.” + </p> + <p> + “Listen to me—” + </p> + <p> + “My lord, have pity on me! I was a coward to draw back from my + revenge. Let me leave you, my lord! I will go alone to this interview.” + </p> + <p> + So saying, Faringhea made a movement, as if he would spring from the + carriage. + </p> + <p> + Djalma held him by the arm, and said: “Remain! I wilt not leave you. + If you are betrayed, you shall not shed blood. Contempt will avenge and + friendship will console you.” + </p> + <p> + “No, no, my lord; I am resolved. When I have killed—then I + will kill myself,” cried the half-caste, with savage excitement. + “This kandjiar for the false ones!” added he, laying his hand + on his dagger. “The poison in the hilt for me.” + </p> + <p> + “Faringhea—” + </p> + <p> + “If I resist you, my lord, forgive me! My destiny must be + accomplished.” + </p> + <p> + Time pressed, and Djalma, despairing to calm the other’s ferocious + rage, resolved to have recourse to a stratagem. + </p> + <p> + After some minutes’ silence, he said to Faringhea: “I will not + leave you. I will do all I can to save you from a crime. If I do not + succeed, the blood you shed be on your own head. This hand shall never + again be locked in yours.” + </p> + <p> + These words appeared to make a deep impression on Faringhea. He breathed a + long sigh, and, bowing his head upon his breast, remained silent and full + of thought. Djalma prepared, by the faint light of the lamps, reflected in + the interior of the coach, to throw himself suddenly on the half-caste, + and disarm him. But the latter, who saw at a glance the intention of the + prince, drew his kandjiar abruptly from his girdle, and holding it still + in its sheath, said to the prince in a half-solemn, half-savage tone: + “This dagger, in a strong hand, is terrible; and in this phial is + one of the most subtle poisons of our country.” + </p> + <p> + He touched a spring, and the knob at the top of the hilt rose like a lid, + discovering the mouth of a small crystal phial concealed in this murderous + weapon. + </p> + <p> + “Two or three drops of this poison upon the lips,” resumed the + half caste, “and death comes slowly and peacefully, in a few hours, + and without pain. Only, for the first symptom, the nails turn blue. But he + who emptied this phial at a draught would fall dead, as if struck by + lightning.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” replied Djalma; “I know that our country produces + such mysterious poisons. But why lay such stress on the murderous + properties of this weapon?” + </p> + <p> + “To show you, my lord, that this kandjiar would ensure the success + and impunity of my vengeance. With the blade I could destroy, and by the + poison escape from human justice. Well, my lord! this kandjiar—take + it—I give it up to you—I renounce my vengeance—rather + than render myself unworthy to clasp again your hand!” + </p> + <p> + He presented the dagger to the prince, who, as pleased as surprised at + this unexpected determination, hastily secured the terrible weapon beneath + his own girdle; whilst the half-breed continued, in a voice of emotion: + “Deep this kandjiar, my lord—and when you have seen and heard + all that we go to hear and see—you shall either give me the dagger + to strike a wretch—or the poison, to die without striking. You shall + command; I will obey.” + </p> + <p> + Djalma was about to reply, when the coach stopped at the house inhabited + by Sainte-Colombe. The prince and the half-caste, well enveloped in their + mantles, entered a dark porch, and the door was closed after them. + Faringhea exchanged a few words with the porter, and the latter gave him a + key. The two Orientals soon arrived at Sainte-Colombe’s apartments, + which had two doors opening upon the landing-place, besides a private + entrance from the courtyard. As he put the key into the lock, Faringhea + said to Djalma, in an agitated voice: “Pity my weakness, my lord—but, + at this terrible moment, I tremble and hesitate. It were perhaps better to + doubt—or to forget!” + </p> + <p> + Then, as the prince was about to answer, the half-caste exclaimed: “No! + we must have no cowardice!” and, opening the door precipitately, he + entered, followed by Djalma. + </p> + <p> + When the door was again closed, the prince and the half-caste found + themselves in a dark and narrow passage. “Your hand, my lord—let + me guide you—walk lightly,” said Faringhea, in a low whisper. + </p> + <p> + He extended his hand to the prince, who took hold of it, and they both + advanced silently through the darkness. After leading Djalma some + distance, and opening and closing several doors, the half-caste stopped + abruptly, and abandoning the hand which he had hitherto held, said to the + prince: “My lord, the decisive moment approaches; let us wait here + for a few seconds.” + </p> + <p> + A profound silence followed these words of the half-caste. The darkness + was so complete, that Djalma could distinguish nothing. In about a minute, + he heard Faringhea moving away from him; and then a door was suddenly + opened, and as abruptly closed and locked. This circumstance made Djalma + somewhat uneasy. By a mechanical movement, he laid his hand upon his + dagger, and advanced cautiously towards the side, where he supposed the + door to be. + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:65%;"> + <img src="images/30445m.jpg" alt="30445m” width=" /><br /> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/30445.jpg"><i>Original</i></a> + </h5> + <p> + Suddenly, the half-caste’s voice struck upon his ear, though it was + impossible to guess whence it came. “My lord,” it said, + “you told me, you were my friend. I act as a friend. If I have + employed stratagem to bring you hither, it is because the blindness of + your fatal passion would otherwise have prevented your accompanying me. + The Princess de Saint Dizier named to you Agricola Baudoin, the lover of + Adrienne de Cardoville. Listen—look—judge!” + </p> + <p> + The voice ceased. It appeared to have issued from one corner of the room. + Djalma, still in darkness, perceived too late into what a snare he had + fallen, and trembled with rage—almost with alarm. + </p> + <p> + “Faringhea!” he exclaimed; “where am I? where are you? + Open the door on your life! I would leave this place instantly.” + </p> + <p> + Extending his arms, the prince advanced hastily several steps, but he only + touched a tapestried wall; he followed it, hoping to find the door, and he + at length found it; but it was locked, and resisted all his efforts. He + continued his researches, and came to a fireplace with no fire in it, and + to a second door, equally fast. In a few moments, he had thus made the + circle of the room, and found himself again at the fireplace. The anxiety + of the prince increased more and more. He called Faringhea, in a voice + trembling with passion. There was no answer. Profound silence reigned + without, and complete darkness within. Ere long, a perfumed vapor, of + indescribable sweetness, but very subtle and penetrating, spread itself + insensibly through the little room in which Djalma was. It might be, that + the orifice of a tube, passing through one of the doors of the room, + introduced this balmy current. At the height of angry and terrible + thoughts, Djalma paid no attention to this odor—but soon the + arteries of his temples began to beat violently, a burning heat seemed to + circulate rapidly through his veins, he felt a sensation of pleasure, his + resentment died gradually away, and a mild, ineffable torpor crept over + him, without his being fully conscious of the mental transformation that + was taking place. Yet, by a last effort of the wavering will, Djalma + advanced once more to try and open one of the doors; he found it indeed, + but at this place the vapor was so strong, that its action redoubled, and, + unable to move a step further, Djalma was obliged to support himself by + leaning against the wall.(43) + </p> + <p> + Then a strange thing happened. A faint light spread itself gradually + through an adjoining apartment, and Djalma now perceived, for the first + time, the existence of a little round window, in the wall of the room in + which he was. On the side of the prince, this opening was protected by a + slight but strong railing, which hardly intercepted the view. On the other + side a thick piece of plate-glass was fixed at the distance of two or + three inches from the railing in question. The room, which Djalma saw + through this window, and through which the faint light was now gradually + spreading, was richly furnished. Between two windows, hung with crimson + silk curtains, stood a kind of wardrobe, with a looking-glass front; + opposite the fireplace in which glowed the burning coals, was a long, wide + divan, furnished with cushions. + </p> + <p> + In another second a woman entered this apartment. Her face and figure were + invisible, being wrapped in a long, hooded mantle, of peculiar form, and a + dark color. The sight of this mantle made Djalma start. To the pleasure he + at first felt succeeded a feverish anxiety, like the growing fumes of + intoxication. There was that strange buzzing in his ears which we + experience when we plunge into deep waters. It was in a kind of delirium + that Djalma looked on at what was passing in the next room. The woman who + had just appeared entered with caution, almost with fear. Drawing aside + one of the window curtains, she glanced through the closed blinds into the + street. Then she returned slowly to the fireplace, where she stood for a + moment pensive, still carefully enveloped in her mantle. Completely + yielding to the influence of the vapor, which deprived him of his presence + of mind—forgetting Faringhea, and all the circumstances that had + accompanied his arrival at this house—Djalma concentrated all the + powers of his attention on the spectacle before him, at which he seemed to + be present as in a dream. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly Djalma saw the woman leave the fireplace and advance towards the + looking-glass. Turning her face toward it, she allowed the mantle to glide + down to her feet. Djalma was thunderstruck. He saw the face of Adrienne de + Cardoville. Yes, Adrienne, as he had seen her the night before, attired as + during her interview with the Princess de Saint Dizier—the light + green dress, the rose-colored ribbons, the white head ornaments. A network + of white beads concealed her back hair, and harmonized admirably with the + shining gold of her ringlets. Finally, as far as the Hindoo could judge + through the railing and the thick glass, and in the faint light, it was + the figure of Adrienne, with her marble shoulders and swan-like neck, so + proud and so graceful. In a word, he could not, he did not doubt that it + was Adrienne de Cardoville. Djalma was bathed in a burning dew, his dizzy + excitement increased, and, with bloodshot eye and heaving bosom, he + remained motionless, gazing almost without the power of thought. The young + lady, with her back still turned towards Djalma, arranged her hair with + graceful art, took off the network which formed her head-dress, placed it + on the chimney-piece, and began to unfasten her gown; then, withdrawing + from the looking-glass, she disappeared for an instant from Djalma’s + view. + </p> + <p> + “She is expecting Agricola Baudoin, her lover,” said a voice, + which seemed to proceed from the wall of the dark room in which Djalma + was. + </p> + <p> + Notwithstanding his bewilderment, these terrible words, “She is + expecting Agricola Baudoin, her lover,” passed like a stream of fire + through the brain and heart of the prince. A cloud of blood came over his + eyes, he uttered a hollow moan, which the thickness of the glass prevented + from being heard in the next room, and broke his nails in attempting to + tear down the iron railing before the window. + </p> + <p> + Having reached this paroxysm of delirious rage, Djalma saw the uncertain + light grow still fainter, as if it had been discreetly obscured, and, + through the vapory shadow that hung before him, he perceived the young + lady returning, clad in a long white dressing-gown, and with her golden + curls floating over her naked arms and shoulders. She advanced cautiously + in the direction of a door which was hid from Djalma’s view. At this + moment, one of the doors of the apartment in which the prince was + concealed was gently opened by an invisible hand. Djalma noticed it by the + click of the lock, and by the current of fresh air which streamed upon his + face, for he could see nothing. This door, left open for Djalma, like that + in the next room, to which the young lady had drawn near, led to a sort of + ante-chamber communicating with the stairs, which some one now rapidly + ascended, and, stopping short, knocked twice at the outer door. + </p> + <p> + “Here comes Agricola Baudoin. Look and listen!” said the same + voice that the prince had already heard. + </p> + <p> + Mad, intoxicated, but with the fixed idea and reckless determination of a + madman or a drunkard, Djalma drew the dagger which Faringhea had left in + his possession, and stood in motionless expectation. Hardly were the two + knocks heard before the young lady quitted the apartment, from which + streamed a faint ray of light, ran to the door of the staircase, so that + some faint glimmer reached the place where Djalma stood watching, his + dagger in his hand. He saw the young lady pass across the ante-chamber, + and approach the door of the staircase, where she said in a whisper: + “Who is there?” + </p> + <p> + “It is I—Agricola Baudoin,” answered, from, without, a + manly voice. + </p> + <p> + What followed was rapid as lightning, and must be conceived rather than + described. Hardly had the young lady drawn the bolt of the door, hardly + had Agricola Baudoin stepped across the threshold, than Djalma, with the + bound of a tiger, stabbed as it were at once, so rapid were the strokes, + both the young lady, who fell dead on the floor, and Agricola, who sank, + dangerously wounded, by the side of the unfortunate victim. This scene of + murder, rapid as thought, took place in the midst of a half obscurity. + Suddenly the faint light from the chamber was completely extinguished, and + a second after, Djalma felt his arm seized in the darkness by an iron + grasp, and the voice of Faringhea whispered: “You are avenged. Come; + we can secure our retreat.” Inert, stupefied at what he had done, + Djalma offered no resistance, and let himself be dragged by the half-caste + into the inner apartment, from which there was another way out. + </p> + <p> + When Rodin had exclaimed, in his admiration of the generative power of + thought, that the word NECKLACE had been the germ of the infernal project + he then contemplated, it was, that chance had brought to his mind the + remembrance of the too famous affair of the diamond necklace, in which a + woman, thanks to her vague resemblance to Queen Marie Antoinette, being + dressed like that princess, and favored by the uncertainty of a twilight, + had played so skillfully the part of her unfortunate sovereign, as to make + the Cardinal Prince de Rohan, though familiar with the court, the complete + dupe of the illusion. Having once determined on his execrable design, + Rodin had sent Jacques Dumoulin to Sainte-Colombe, without telling him the + real object of his mission, to ask this experienced woman to procure a + fine young girl, tall, and with red hair. Once found, a costume exactly + resembling that worn by Adrienne, and of which the Princess de + Saint-Dizier gave the description to Rodin (though herself ignorant of + this new plot), was to complete the deception. The rest is known, or may + be guessed. The unfortunate girl, who acted as Adrienne’s double, + believed she was only aiding in a jest. As for Agricola, he had received a + letter, in which he was invited to a meeting that might be of the greatest + importance to Mdlle. de Cardoville. + </p> + <p> + (43) See the strange effect of hasheesh. To the effect of this is + attributed the kind of hallucination which seized on those unhappy + persons, whom the Prince of the Assassins (the Old Man of the Mountain) + used as the instruments of his vengeance. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0170" id="link2HCH0170"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER LXV. THE NUPTIAL BED. + </h2> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>he mild light of a + circular lamp of oriental alabaster, suspended from the ceiling by three + silver chains, spreads a faint lustre through the bed-chamber of Adrienne + de Cardoville. + </p> + <p> + The large ivory bedstead, inlaid with mother-of-pearl, is not at present + occupied, and almost disappears beneath snowy curtains of lace and muslin, + transparent and vapory as clouds. On the white marble mantlepiece, from + beneath which the fire throws ruddy beams on the ermine carpet, is the + usual basket filled with a bush of red camellias, in the midst of their + shining green leaves. A pleasant aromatic odor, rising from a warm and + perfumed bath in the next room, penetrates every corner of the + bed-chamber. All without is calm and silent. It is hardly eleven o’clock. + The ivory door, opposite to that which leads to the bath-room, opens + slowly. Djalma appears. Two hours have elapsed since he committed a double + murder, and believed that he had killed Adrienne in a fit of jealous fury. + </p> + <p> + The servants of Mdlle. de Cardoville, accustomed to Djalma’s daily + visits, no longer announced his arrival, and admitted him without + difficulty, having received no orders to the contrary from their mistress. + He had never before entered the bed-chamber, but, knowing that the + apartment the lady occupied was on the first floor of the house, he had + easily found it. As he entered that virgin sanctuary, his countenance was + pretty calm, so well did he control his feelings, only a slight paleness + tarnished the brilliant amber of his complexion. He wore that day a robe + of purple cashmere, striped with silver—a color which did not show + the stains of blood upon it. Djalma closed the door after him, and tore + off his white turban, for it seemed to him as if a band of hot iron + encircled his brow. His dark hair streamed around his handsome face. He + crossed his arms upon his bosom, and looked slowly about him. When his + eyes rested on Adrienne’s bed, he started suddenly, and his cheek + grew purple. Then he drew his hand across his brow, hung down his head, + and remained standing for some moments in a dream, motionless as a statue. + </p> + <p> + After a mournful silence of a few seconds’ duration, Djalma fell + upon his knees, and raised his eyes to heaven. The Asiatic’s + countenance was bathed in tears, and no longer expressed any violent + passion. On his features was no longer the stamp of hate, or despair, or + the ferocious joy of vengeance gratified. It was rather the expression of + grief at once simple and immense. For several minutes he was almost choked + with sobs, and tears ran freely down his cheeks. + </p> + <p> + “Dead! dead!” he murmured, in a half-stifled voice. “She, + who this morning slept so peacefully in this chamber! And I have killed + her. Now that she is dead, what is her treachery to me? I should not have + killed her for that. She had betrayed me; she loved the man whom I slew—she + loved him! Alas! I could not hope to gain the preference,” added he, + with a touching mixture of resignation and remorse; “I, poor, + untaught youth—how could I merit her love? It was my fault that she + did not love me; but, always generous, she concealed from me her + indifference, that she might not make me too unhappy—and for that I + killed her. What was her crime? Did she not meet me freely? Did she not + open to me her dwelling? Did she not allow me to pass whole days with her? + No doubt she tried to love me, and could not. I loved her with all the + faculties of my soul, but my love was not such as she required. For that, + I should not have killed her. But a fatal delusion seized me and, after it + was done, I woke as from a dream. Alas! it was not a dream: I have killed + her. And yet—until this evening—what happiness I owed to her—what + hope—what joy! She made my heart better, nobler, more generous. All + came from her,” added the Indian, with a new burst of grief. “That + remained with me—no one could take from me that treasure of the past—that + ought to have consoled me. But why think of it? I struck them both—her + and the man—without a struggle. It was a cowardly murder—the + ferocity of the tiger that tears its innocent prey!” + </p> + <p> + Djalma buried his face in his hands. Then, drying his tears, he resumed, + “I know, clearly, that I mean to die also. But my death will not + restore her to life!” + </p> + <p> + He rose from the ground, and drew from his girdle Faringhea’s bloody + dagger; then, taking the little phial from the hilt, he threw the blood + stained blade upon the ermine carpet, the immaculate whiteness of which + was thus slightly stained with red. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” resumed Djalma, holding the phial with a convulsive + grasp, “I know well that I am about to die. It is right. Blood for + blood; my life for hers. How happens it that my steel did not turn aside? + How could I kill her?—but it is done—and my heart is full of + remorse, and sorrow, an inexpressible tenderness—and I have come + here—to die! + </p> + <p> + “Here, in this chamber,” he continued, “the heaven of my + burning visions!” And then he added, with a heartrending accent, as + he again buried his face in his hands, “Dead! dead!” + </p> + <p> + “Well! I too shall soon be dead,” he resumed, in a firmer + voice. “But, no! I will die slowly, gradually. A few drops of the + poison will suffice; and, when I am quite certain of dying, my remorse + will perhaps be less terrible. Yesterday, she pressed my hand when we + parted. Who could have foretold me this?” The Indian raised the + phial resolutely to his lips. He drank a few drops of the liquor it + contained, and replaced it on a little ivory table close to Adrienne’s + bed. + </p> + <p> + “This liquor is sharp and hot,” said he. “Now I am + certain to die. Oh! that I may still have time to feast on the sight and + perfume of this chamber—to lay my dying head on the couch where she + has reposed.” + </p> + <p> + Djalma fell on his knees beside the bed, and leaned against it his burning + brow. At this moment, the ivory door, which communicated with the + bath-room, rolled gently on its hinges, and Adrienne entered. The young + lady had just sent away her woman, who had assisted to undress her. She + wore a long muslin wrapper of lustrous whiteness. Her golden hair, neatly + arranged in little plaits, formed two bands, which gave to her sweet face + an extremely juvenile air. Her snowy complexion was slightly tinged with + rose-color, from the warmth of the perfumed bath, which she used for a few + seconds every evening. When she opened the ivory door, and placed her + little naked foot, in its white satin slipper, upon the ermine carpet, + Adrienne was dazzlingly beautiful. Happiness sparkled in her eyes, and + adorned her brow. All the difficulties relative to her union with Djalma + had now been removed. In two days she would be his. The sight of the + nuptial chamber oppressed her with a vague and ineffable languor. The + ivory door had been opened so gently, the lady’s first steps were so + soft upon the fur carpet, that Djalma, still leaning against the bed, had + heard nothing. But suddenly a cry of surprise and alarm struck upon his + ear. He turned round abruptly. Adrienne stood before him. + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:65%;"> + <img src="images/30453m.jpg" alt="30453m” width=" /><br /> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/30453.jpg"><i>Original</i></a> + </h5> + <p> + With an impulse of modesty, Adrienne closed her nightdress over her bosom, + and hastily drew back, still more afflicted than angry at what she + considered a guilty attempt on the part of Djalma. Cruelly hurt and + offended, she was about to reproach him with his conduct, when she + perceived the dagger, which he had thrown down upon the ermine carpet. At + sight of this weapon, and the expression of fear and stupor which + petrified the features of Djalma, who remained kneeling, motionless, with + his body thrown back, hands stretched out, his eyes fixed and wildly + staring Adrienne, no longer dreading an amorous surprise, was seized with + an indescribable terror, and, instead of flying from the prince, advanced + several steps towards him, and said, in an agitated voice, whilst she + pointed to the kandjiar, “My friend, why are you here? what ails + you? why this dagger?” + </p> + <p> + Djalma made no answer. At first, the presence of Adrienne seemed to him a + vision, which he attributed to the excitement of his brain, already (it + might be) under the influence of the poison. But when the soft voice + sounded in his ears—when his heart bounded with the species of + electric shock, which he always felt when he met the gaze of that woman so + ardently beloved—when he had contemplated for an instant that + adorable face, so fresh and fair, in spite of its expression of deep + uneasiness—Djalma understood that he was not the sport of a dream, + but that Mdlle. de Cardoville was really before his eyes. + </p> + <p> + Then, as he began fully to grasp the thought that Adrienne was not dead, + though he could not at all explain the prodigy of her resurrection, the + Hindoo’s countenance was transfigured, the pale gold of his + complexion became warm and red, his eyes (tarnished by tears of remorse) + shone with new radiance, and his features, so lately contracted with + terror and despair, expressed all the phases of the most ecstatic joy. + Advancing, still on his knees, towards Adrienne, he lifted up to her his + trembling hands, and, too deeply affected to pronounce a word, he gazed on + her with so much amazement, love, adoration, gratitude, that the young + lady, fascinated by those inexplicable looks, remained mute also, + motionless also, and felt, by the precipitate beating of her heart, and by + the shudder which ran through her frame, that there was here some dreadful + mystery to be unfolded. + </p> + <p> + At last, Djalma, clasping his hands together, exclaimed with an accent + impossible to describe, “Thou art not dead!” + </p> + <p> + “Dead!” repeated the young lady, in amazement. + </p> + <p> + “It was not thou, really not thou, whom I killed? God is kind and + just!” + </p> + <p> + And as he pronounced these words with intense joy, the unfortunate youth + forgot the victim whom he had sacrificed in error. + </p> + <p> + More and more alarmed, and again glancing at the dagger en which she now + perceived marks of blood—a terrible evidence, in confirmation of the + words of Djalma—Mdlle. de Cardoville exclaimed, “You have + killed some one, Djalma! Oh! what does he say? It is dreadful!” + </p> + <p> + “You are alive—I see you—you are here,” said + Djalma, in a voice trembling with rapture. “You are here—beautiful! + pure! for it was not you! Oh, no! had it been you, the steel would have + turned back upon myself.” + </p> + <p> + “You have killed some one?” cried the young lady, beside her + with this unforeseen revelation, and clasping her hands in horror. “Why? + whom did you kill?” + </p> + <p> + “I do not know. A woman that was like you—a man that I thought + your lover—it was an illusion, a frightful dream—you are alive—you + are here!” + </p> + <p> + And the oriental wept for joy. + </p> + <p> + “A dream? but no, it is not a dream. There is blood upon that + dagger!” cried the young lady, as she pointed wildly to the + kandjiar. “I tell you there is blood upon it!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. I threw it down just now, when I took the poison from it, + thinking that I had killed you.” + </p> + <p> + “The poison!” exclaimed Adrienne, and her teeth chattered + convulsively. “What poison?” + </p> + <p> + “I thought I had killed you, and I came here to die.” + </p> + <p> + “To die? Oh! wherefore? who is to die?” cried the young lady, + almost in delirium. + </p> + <p> + “I,” replied Djalma, with inexpressible tenderness, “I + thought I had killed you—and I took poison.” + </p> + <p> + “You!” exclaimed Adrienne, becoming pale as death. “You!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! it is not true!” said the young lady, shaking her head. + </p> + <p> + “Look!” said the Asiatic. Mechanically, he turned towards the + bed—towards the little ivory table, on which sparkled the crystal + phial. + </p> + <p> + With a sudden movement, swifter than thought, swifter, it may be, than the + will, Adrienne rushed to the table, seized the phial, and applied it + eagerly to her lips. + </p> + <p> + Djalma had hitherto remained on his knees; but he now uttered a terrible + cry, made one spring to the drinker’s side, and dragged away the + phial, which seemed almost glued to her mouth. + </p> + <p> + “No matter! I have swallowed as much as you,” said Adrienne, + with an air of gloomy triumph. + </p> + <p> + For an instant, there followed an awful silence. Adrienne and Djalma gazed + upon each other, mute, motionless, horror-struck. The young lady was the + first to break this mournful silence, and said in a tone which she tried + to make calm and steady, “Well! what is there extraordinary in this? + You have killed, and death most expiate your crime. It is just. I will not + survive you. That also is natural enough. Why look at me thus? This poison + has a sharp taste—does it act quickly! Tell me, my Djalma!” + </p> + <p> + The prince did not answer. Shuddering through all his frame, he looked + down upon his hands. Faringhea had told the truth; a slight violet tint + appeared already beneath the nails. Death was approaching, slowly, almost + insensibly, but not the less certain. Overwhelmed with despair at the + thought that Adrienne, too, was about to die, Djalma felt his courage fail + him. He uttered a long groan, and hid his face in his hands. His knees + shook under him, and he felt down upon the bed, near which he was + standing. + </p> + <p> + “Already?” cried the young lady in horror, as she threw + herself on her knees at Djalma’s feet. “Death already? Do you + hide your face from me?” + </p> + <p> + In her fright, she pulled his hands from before his face. That face was + bathed in tears. + </p> + <p> + “No, not yet,” murmured he, through his sobs. “The + poison is slow.” + </p> + <p> + “Really!” cried Adrienne, with ineffable joy. Then, kissing + the hands of Djalma, she added tenderly, “If the poison is slow, why + do you weep?” + </p> + <p> + “For you! for you!” said the Indian, in a heart-rending tone. + </p> + <p> + “Think not of me,” replied Adrienne, resolutely. “You + have killed, and we must expiate the crime. I know not what has taken + place; but I swear by our love that you did not do evil for evil’s + sake. There is some horrible mystery in all this.” + </p> + <p> + “On a pretence which I felt bound to believe,” replied Djalma, + speaking quickly, and panting for breath, “Faringhea led me to a + certain house. Once there, he told me that you had betrayed me. I did not + believe him, but I know not what strange dizziness seized upon me—and + then, through a half-obscurity, I saw you—” + </p> + <p> + “Me!” + </p> + <p> + “No—not you—but a woman resembling you, dressed like + you, so that I believed the illusion—and then there came a man—and + you flew to meet him—and I—mad with rage—stabbed her, + stabbed him, saw them fall—and so came here to die. And now I find + you only to cause your death. Oh, misery! misery! that you should die + through me!” + </p> + <p> + And Djalma, this man of formidable energy, began again to weep with the + weakness of a child. At sight of this deep, touching, passionate despair, + Adrienne, with that admirable courage which women alone possess in love, + thought only of consoling Djalma. By an effort of superhuman passion, as + the prince revealed to her this infernal plot, the lady’s + countenance became so splendid with an expression of love and happiness, + that the East Indian looked at her in amazement, fearing for an instant + that he must have lost his reason. + </p> + <p> + “No more tears, my adored!” cried the young lady, exultingly. + “No more tears—but only smiles of joy and love! Our cruel + enemies shall not triumph!” + </p> + <p> + “What do you say?” + </p> + <p> + “They wished to make us miserable. We pity them. Our felicity shall + be the envy of the world!” + </p> + <p> + “Adrienne—bethink you—” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! I have all my senses about me. Listen to me, my adored! I now + understand it all. Falling into a snare, which these wretches spread for + you, you have committed murder. Now, in this country, murder leads to + infamy, or the scaffold—and to-morrow—to-night, perhaps—you + would be thrown into prison. But our enemies have said: ‘A man like + Prince Djalma does not wait for infamy—he kills himself. A woman + like Adrienne de Cardoville does not survive the disgrace or death of her + lover—she prefers to die.’” + </p> + <p> + “Therefore a frightful death awaits them both,” said the + black-robed men; “and that immense inheritance, which we covet—‘” + </p> + <p> + “And for you—so young, so beautiful so innocent—death is + frightful, and these monsters triumph!” cried Djalma. “They + have spoken the truth!” + </p> + <p> + “They have lied!” answered Adrienne. “Our death shall be + celestial. This poison is slow—and I adore you, my Djalma!” + </p> + <p> + She spoke those words in a low voice, trembling with passionate love, and, + leaning upon Djalma’s knees, approached so near, that he felt her + warm breath upon his cheek. As he felt that breath, and saw the humid + flame that darted from the large, swimming eyes of Adrienne, whose half + opened lips were becoming of a still deeper and brighter hue, the Indian + started—his young blood boiled in his veins—he forgot + everything—his despair, and the approach of death, which as yet (as + with Adrienne), only showed itself in a kind of feverish ardor. His face, + like the young girl’s, became once more splendidly beautiful. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, my lover! my husband! how beautiful you are!” said + Adrienne, with idolatry. “Those eyes—that brow—those + lips—how I love them!—How many times has the remembrance of + your grace and beauty, coupled with your love, unsettled my reason, and + shaken my resolves—even to this moment, when I am wholly yours!—Yes, + heaven wills that we should be united. Only this morning, I gave to the + apostolic man, that was to bless our union, in thy name and mine, a royal + gift—a gift, that will bring joy and peace to the heart of many an + unfortunate creature. Then what have we to regret, my beloved? Our + immortal souls will pass away in a kiss, and ascend, full of love, to that + God who is all love!” + </p> + <p> + “Adrienne!” + </p> + <p> + “Djalma!” + </p> + <p> + The light, transparent curtains fell like a cloud over that nuptial and + funereal couch. Yes, funereal; for, two hours after, Adrienne and Djalma + breathed their last sigh in a voluptuous agony. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0171" id="link2HCH0171"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER LXVI. A DUEL TO THE DEATH. + </h2> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">A</span>drienne and Djalma + died on the 30th of May. The following scene took place on the 31st, the + eve of the day appointed for the last convocation of the heirs of Marius + de Rennepont. The reader will no doubt remember the room occupied by M. + Hardy, in the “house of retreat,” in the Rue de Vaugirard—a + gloomy and retired apartment, opening on a dreary little garden, planted + with yew-trees, and surrounded by high walls. To reach this chamber, it + was necessary to cross two vast rooms, the doors of which, once shut, + intercepted all noise and communication from without. Bearing this in + mind, we may go on with our narrative. For the last three or four days, + Father d’Aigrigny occupied this apartment. He had not chosen it, but + had been induced to accept it, under most plausible pretexts, given him at + the instigation of Rodin. It was about noon. Seated in an arm-chair, by + the window opening on the little garden, Father d’Aigrigny held in + his hand a newspaper, in which he read as follows, under the head of + “Paris:” + </p> + <p> + “Eleven p.m.—A most horrible and tragical event has just + excited the greatest consternation in the quarter of the Rue de Richelieu. + A double murder has been committed, on the person of a young man and + woman. The girl was killed on the spot, by the stroke of a dagger; hopes + are entertained of saving the life of the young man. The crime is + attributed to jealousy. The officers of justice are investigating the + matter. We shall give full particulars tomorrow.” + </p> + <p> + When he had read these lines, Father d’Aigrigny threw down the paper + and remained in deep thought. + </p> + <p> + “It is incredible,” said he, with bitter envy, in allusion to + Rodin. “He has attained his end. Hardly one of his anticipations has + been defeated. This family is annihilated, by the mere play of the + passions, good and evil that he has known how to set in motion. He said it + would be so. Oh! I must confess,” added Father d’Aigrigny, + with a jealous and hateful smile, “that Rodin is a man of rare + dissimulation, patience, energy, obstinacy and intelligence. Who would + have told a few months ago, when he wrote under my orders, a discreet and + humble socius, that he had already conceived the most audacious ambition, + and dared to lift his eyes to the Holy See itself? that, thanks to + intrigues and corruption, pursued with wondrous ability, these views were + not so unreasonable? Nay, that this infernal ambition would soon be + realized, were it not that the secret proceedings of this dangerous man + have long been as secretly watched?—Ah!” sneered Father d’Aigrigny, + with a smile of irony and triumph, “you wish to be a second Sixtus + V., do you? And, not content with this audacious pretension, you mean, if + successful, to absorb our Company in the Papacy, even as the Sultan has + absorbed the Janissaries. Ah! You would make us your stepping-stone to + power! And you have thought to humiliate and crush me with your insolent + disdain! But patience, patience: the day of retribution approaches. I + alone am the depository of our General’s will. Father Caboccini + himself does not know that. The fate of Rodin is in my hands. Oh! it will + not be what he expects. In this Rennepont affair (which, I must needs + confess, he has managed admirably), he thinks to outwit us all, and to + work only for himself. But to-morrow—” + </p> + <p> + Father d’Aigrigny was suddenly disturbed in these agreeable + reflections. He heard the door of the next room open, and, as he turned + round to see who was coming, the door of the apartment in which he was + turned upon its hinges. Father d’Aigrigny started with surprise, and + became almost purple. Marshal Simon stood before him. And, behind the + marshal, in the shadow of the door, Father d’Aigrigny perceived the + cadaverous face of Rodin. The latter cast on him one glance of diabolical + delight, and instantly disappeared. The door was again closed, and Father + d’Aigrigny and Marshal Simon were left alone together. The father of + Rose and Blanche was hardly recognizable. His gray hair had become + completely white. His pale, thin face had not been shaved for some days. + His hollow eyes were bloodshot and restless, and had in them something + wild and haggard. He was wrapped in a large cloak, and his black cravat + was tied loosely about his neck. In withdrawing from the apartment, Rodin + had (as if by inadvertence) double-locked the door on the outside. When he + was alone with the Jesuit, the marshal threw back his cloak from his + shoulders, and Father d’Aigrigny could see two naked swords, stuck + through a silk handkerchief which served him as a belt. + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:65%;"> + <img src="images/30461m.jpg" alt="30461m” width=" /><br /> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/30461.jpg"><i>Original</i></a> + </h5> + <p> + Father d’Aigrigny understood it all. He remembered how, a few days + before, Rodin had obstinately pressed him to say what he would do if the + marshal were to strike him in the face. There could be no doubt that he, + who thought to have held the fate of Rodin in his hands, had been brought + by the latter into a fearful peril; for he knew that, the two outer rooms + being closed, there was no possibility of making himself heard, and that + the high walls of the garden only bordered upon some vacant lots. The + first thought which occurred to him, one by no means destitute of + probability, was that Rodin, either by his agents at Rome, or by his own + incredible penetration, had learned that his fate depended on Father d’Aigrigny, + and hoped therefore to get rid of him, by delivering him over to the + inexorable vengeance of the father of Rose and Blanche. Without speaking a + word, the marshal unbound the handkerchief from his waist, laid the two + swords upon the table, and, folding his arms upon his breast, advanced + slowly towards Father d’Aigrigny. Thus these two men, who through + life had pursued each other with implacable hatred, at length met face to + face—they, who had fought in hostile armies, and measured swords in + single combat, and one of whom now came to seek vengeance for the death of + his children. As the marshal approached, Father d’Aigrigny rose from + his seat. He wore that day a black cassock, which rendered still more + visible the pale hue, which had now succeeded to the sudden flush on his + cheek. For a few seconds, the two men stood face to face without speaking. + The marshal was terrific in his paternal despair. His calmness, inexorable + as fate, was more impressive than the most furious burst of anger. + </p> + <p> + “My children are dead,” said he at last, in a slow and hollow + tone. “I come to kill you.” + </p> + <p> + “Sir,” cried Father d’Aigrigny, “listen to me. Do + not believe—” + </p> + <p> + “I must kill you,” resumed the marshal, interrupting the + Jesuit; “your hate followed my wife into exile, where she perished. + You and your accomplices sent my children to certain death. For twenty + years you have been my evil genius. I must have your life, and I will have + it.” + </p> + <p> + “My life belongs, first, to God,” answered Father d’Aigrigny, + piously, “and then to who likes to take it.” + </p> + <p> + “We will fight to the death in this room,” said the marshal; + “and, as I have to avenge my wife and children, I am tranquil as to + the result.” + </p> + <p> + “Sir,” answered Father d’Aigrigny, coldly, “you + forget that my profession forbids me to fight. Once I accepted your + challenge—but my position is changed since then.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” said the marshal, with a bitter smile; “you refuse + to fight because you are a priest?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir—because I am a priest.” + </p> + <p> + “So that, because he is a priest, a wretch like you may commit any + crime, any baseness, under shelter of his black gown?” + </p> + <p> + “I do not understand a word of your accusations. In any case, the + law is open,” said Father d’Aigrigny, biting his pale lips, + for he felt deeply the insult offered by the marshal; “if you have + anything to complain of, appeal to that law, before which all are equal.” + </p> + <p> + Marshal Simon shrugged his shoulders in angry disdain. “Your crimes + escape the law—and, could it even reach you, that would not satisfy + my vengeance, after all the evil you have done me, after all you have + taken from me,” said the marshal; and, at the memory of his + children, his voice slightly trembled; but he soon proceeded, with + terrible calmness: “You must feel that I now only live for + vengeance. And I must have such revenge as is worth the seeking—I + must have your coward’s heart palpitating on the point of my sword. + Our last duel was play; this will be earnest—oh! you shall see.” + </p> + <p> + The marshal walked up to the table, where he had laid the two swords. + Father d’Aigrigny needed all his resolution to restrain himself. The + implacable hate which he had always felt for Marshal Simon, added to these + insults, filled him with savage ardor. Yet he answered, in a tone that was + still calm: “For the last time, sir, I repeat to you, that my + profession forbids me to fight.” + </p> + <p> + “Then you refuse?” said the marshal, turning abruptly towards + him. + </p> + <p> + “I refuse.” + </p> + <p> + “Positively?” + </p> + <p> + “Positively. Nothing on earth should force me to it.” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing.” + </p> + <p> + “No, sir; nothing.” + </p> + <p> + “We shall see,” said the marshal, as his hand fell with its + full force on the cheek of Father d’Aigrigny. + </p> + <p> + The Jesuit uttered a cry of fury; all his blood rushed to his face, so + roughly handled; the courage of the man (for he was brave), his ancient + military ardor, carried him away; his eyes sparkled, and, with teeth + firmly set, and clenched fists, he advanced towards the marshal, + exclaiming: “The swords! the swords!” + </p> + <p> + But suddenly, remembering the appearance of Rodin, and the interest which + the latter had in bringing about this encounter, he determined to avoid + the diabolical snare laid by his former socius, and so gathered sufficient + resolution to restrain his terrible resentment. + </p> + <p> + To his passing fury succeeded a calm, full of contrition; and, wishing to + play his part out to the end, he knelt down, and bowing his head and + beating his bosom, repeated: “Forgive me, Lord, for yielding to a + movement of rage! and, above all, forgive him who has injured me!” + </p> + <p> + In spite of his apparent resignation, the Jesuit’s voice was neatly + agitated. He seemed to feel a hot iron upon his cheek, for never before in + his life, whether as a soldier or a priest, had he suffered such an + insult. He had thrown himself upon his knees, partly from religious + mummery, and partly to avoid the gaze of the marshal, fearing that, were + he to meet his eye, he should not be able to answer for himself, but give + way to his impetuous feelings. On seeing the Jesuit kneel down, and on + hearing his hypocritical invocation, the marshal, whose sword was in his + hand, shook with indignation. + </p> + <p> + “Stand up, scoundrel!” he said, “stand up, wretch!” + And he spurned the Jesuit with his boot. + </p> + <p> + At this new insult, Father d’Aigrigny leaped up, as if he had been + moved by steel springs. It was too much; he could bear no more. Blinded + with rage, he rushed to the able, caught up the other sword, and + exclaimed, grinding his teeth together: “Ah! you will have blood. + Well then! it shall be yours—if possible!” + </p> + <p> + And the Jesuit, still in all the vigor of manhood, his face purple, his + large gray eyes sparkling with hate, fell upon his guard with the ease and + skill of a finished swordsman. + </p> + <p> + “At last!” cried the marshal, as their blades were about to + cross. + </p> + <p> + But once more reflection came to damp the fire of the Jesuit. He + remembered how this hazardous duel would gratify the wishes of Rodin, + whose fate was in his hands, and whom he hated perhaps even more than the + marshal. Therefore, in spite of the fury which possessed him, in spite of + his secret hope to conquer in this combat, so strong and healthy did he + feel himself, and so fatal had been the effects of grief on the + constitution of Marshal Simon, he succeeded in mastering his rage, and, to + the amazement of the marshal, dropped the point of his sword, exclaiming: + “I am a minister of the Lord, and must not shed blood. Forgive ne, + heaven! and, oh! forgive my brother also.” + </p> + <p> + Then placing the blade beneath his heel, he drew the hilt suddenly towards + him, and broke the weapon into two pieces. The duel was no longer + possible. Father d’Aigrigny had put it out of his own power to yield + to a new burst of violence, of which he saw the imminent danger. Marshal + Simon remained for an instant mute and motionless with surprise and + indignation, for he also saw that the duel was now impossible. But, + suddenly, imitating the Jesuit, the marshal placed his blade also under + his heel, broke it in half, and picking up the pointed end, about eighteen + inches in length tore off his black silk cravat, rolled it round the + broken part so as to form a handle, and said to Father d’Aigrigny: + “Then we will fight with daggers.” + </p> + <p> + Struck with this mixture of coolness and ferocity, the Jesuit exclaimed: + “Is this then a demon of hell?” + </p> + <p> + “No; it is a father, whose children have been murdered,” said + the marshal, in a hollow voice, whilst he fitted the blade to his hand, + and a tear stood in the eye, that instantly after became fierce and + ardent. + </p> + <p> + The Jesuit saw that tear. There was in this mixture of vindictive rage and + paternal grief something so awful, and yet so sacred, that for the first + time in his life Father d’Aigrigny felt fear—cowardly, ignoble + fear—fear for his own safety. While a combat with swords was in + question, in which skill, agility, and experience are such powerful + auxiliaries to courage, his only difficulty had been to repress the ardor + of his hate—but when he thought of the combat proposed, body to + body, face to face, heart to heart, he trembled, grew pale, and exclaimed: + “A butchery with knives?—never!” + </p> + <p> + His countenance and the accent betrayed his alarm, so that the marshal + himself was struck with it, and fearing to lose his revenge, he cried: + “After all, he is a coward! The wretch had only the courage or the + vanity of a fencer. This pitiful renegade—this traitor to his + country—whom I have cuffed, kicked—yes, kicked, most noble + marquis!—shame of your ancient house—disgrace to the rank of + gentleman, old or new—ah! it is not hypocrisy, it is not + calculation, as I at first thought—it is fear! You need the noise of + war, and the eyes of spectators to give you courage—” + </p> + <p> + “Sir—have a care!” said Father d’Aigrigny, + stammering through his clenched teeth, for rage and hate now made him + forget his fear-“Must I then spit on you, to make the little blood + you have left rise to your face?” cried the exasperated marshal. + </p> + <p> + “Oh! this is too much! too much!” said the Jesuit, seizing the + pointed piece of the blade that lay at his feet. + </p> + <p> + “It is not enough!” said the marshal, panting for breath. + “There, Judas!” and he spat in his face. + </p> + <p> + “If you will not fight now,” added the marshal, “I will + beat you like a dog, base child-murderer!” + </p> + <p> + On receiving the uttermost insult which can be offered to an already + insulted man, Father d’Aigrigny lost all his presence of mind, + forgot his interests, his resolutions, his fears, forgot even Rodin—felt + only the frenzied ardor of revenge—and, recovering his courage, + rejoiced in the prospect of a close struggle, in which his superior + strength promised success over the enfeebled frame of the marshal for, in + this kind of brutal and savage combat, physical strength offers an immense + advantage. In an instant, Father d’Aigrigny had rolled his + handkerchief round the broken blade, and rushed upon Marshal Simon, who + received the shock with intrepidity. For the short time that this unequal + struggle lasted—unequal, for the marshal had since some days been a + prey to a devouring fever, which had undermined his strength—the two + combatants, mute in their fury, uttered not a word or a cry. Had any one + been present at this horrible scene, it would have been impossible for him + to tell how they dealt their blows. He would have seen two heads—frightful, + livid, convulsed—rising, falling, now here, now there—arms, + now stiff as bars of iron, and now twisting like serpents—and, in + the midst of the undulation of the blue coat of the marshal and the black + cassock of the Jesuit, from time to time the sudden gleam of the steel. He + would have heard only a dull stamping, and now and then a deep breath. In + about two minutes at most, the two adversaries fell, and rolled one over + the other. One of them—it was Father d’Aigrigny—contrived + to disengage himself with a violent effort, and to rise upon his knees. + His arms fell powerless by his side; and then the dying voice of the + marshal murmured: “My children! Dagobert!” + </p> + <p> + “I have killed him,” said Father d’Aigrigny, in a weak + voice; “but I feel—that I am wounded—to death.” + </p> + <p> + Leaning with one hand on the ground, the Jesuit pressed the other to his + bosom. His black cassock was pierced through and through, but the blades, + which had served for the combat, being triangular and very sharp, the + blood instead of issuing from the wounds, was flowing inwards. + </p> + <p> + “Oh! I die—I choke,” said Father d’Aigrigny, whose + features were already changing with the approach of death. + </p> + <p> + At this moment, the key turned twice in the door, Rodin appeared on the + threshold, and, thrusting in his head, he said in a humble and discreet + voice: “May I come in?” + </p> + <p> + At this dreadful irony, Father d’Aigrigny strove to rise, and rush + upon Rodin; but he fell back exhausted; the blood was choking him. + </p> + <p> + “Monster of hell!” he muttered, casting on Rodin a terrible + glance of rage and agony. “Thou art the cause of my death.” + </p> + <p> + “I always told you, my dear father, that your old military habits + would be fatal to you,” answered Rodin with a frightful smile. + “Only a few days ago, I gave you warning, and advised you take a + blow patiently from this old swordsman—who seems to have done with + that work forever, which is well—for the Scripture says: ‘All + they that take the sword shall perish with the sword.’ And then this + Marshal Simon might have had some claim on his daughter’s + inheritance. And, between ourselves, my dear father, what was I to do? It + was necessary to sacrifice you for the common interest; the rather, that I + well knew what you had in pickle for me to-morrow. But I am not so easily + caught napping.” + </p> + <p> + “Before I die,” said Father d’Aigrigny, in a failing + voice, “I will unmask you.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no, you will not,” said Rodin, shaking his head with a + knowing air; “I alone, if you please, will receive your last + confession.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! this is horrible,” moaned Father d’Aigrigny, whose + eyes were closing. “May God have mercy on me, if it is not too late!—Alas! + at this awful moment, I feel that I have been a great sinner—” + </p> + <p> + “And, above all, a great fool,” said Rodin, shrugging his + shoulders, and watching with cold disdain the dying moments of his + accomplice. + </p> + <p> + Father d’Aigrigny had now but a few minutes more to live. Rodin + perceived it, and said: “It is time to call for help.” And the + Jesuit ran, with an air of alarm and consternation, into the courtyard of + the house. + </p> + <p> + Others came at his cries; but, as he had promised, Rodin had only quitted + Father d’Aigrigny as the latter had breathed his last sigh. + </p> + <p> + That evening, alone in his chamber, by the glimmer of a little lamp, Rodin + sat plunged in a sort of ecstatic contemplation, before the print + representing Sixtus V. The great house-clock struck twelve. At the last + stroke, Rodin drew himself up in all the savage majesty of his infernal + triumph, and exclaimed: “This is the first of June. There are no + more Renneponts!—Methinks, I hear the hour from the clock of St. + Peter’s at Rome striking!” + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:65%;"> + <img src="images/30469m.jpg" alt="30469m” width=" /><br /> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/30469.jpg"><i>Original</i></a> + </h5> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0172" id="link2HCH0172"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER LXVII. A MESSAGE. + </h2> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">W</span>hile Rodin sat + plunged in ambitious reverie, contemplating the portrait of Sixtus V., + good little Father Caboccini, whose warm embraces had so much irritated + the first mentioned personage, went secretly to Faringhea, to deliver to + him a fragment of an ivory crucifix, and said to him with his usual air of + jovial good-nature: “His Excellency Cardinal Malipieri, on my + departure from Rome, charged me to give you this only on the 31st of May.” + </p> + <p> + The half-caste, who was seldom affected by anything, started abruptly, + almost with an expression of pain. His face darkened, and bending upon the + little father a piercing look, he said to him: “You were to add + something.” + </p> + <p> + “True,” replied Father Caboccini; “the words I was to + add are these: ‘There is many a slip ‘twixt the cup and the + lip.’” + </p> + <p> + “It is well,” said the other. Heaving a deep sigh, he joined + the fragment of the ivory crucifix to a piece already in his possession; + it fitted exactly. + </p> + <p> + Father Caboccini looked at him with curiosity, for the cardinal had only + told him to deliver the ivory fragment to Faringhea, and to repeat the + above words. Being somewhat mystified with all this, the reverend father + said to the half-caste: “What are you going to do with that + crucifix?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing,” said Faringhea, still absorbed in painful thought. + </p> + <p> + “Nothing?” resumed the reverend father, in astonishment. + “What, then, was the use of bringing it so far?” + </p> + <p> + Without satisfying his curiosity, Faringhea replied: “At what hour + to morrow does Father Rodin go to the Rue Saint Francois?” + </p> + <p> + “Very early.” + </p> + <p> + “Before leaving home, he will go to say prayers in the chapel?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, according to the habit of our reverend fathers.” + </p> + <p> + “You sleep near him?” + </p> + <p> + “Being his socius, I occupy the room next to his.” + </p> + <p> + “It is possible,” said Faringhea, after a moment’s + silence, “that the reverend father, full of the great interests + which occupy his mind, might forget to go to the chapel. In that case, + pray remind him of this pious duty.” + </p> + <p> + “I shall not fail.” + </p> + <p> + “Pray do not fail,” repeated Faringhea, anxiously. + </p> + <p> + “Be satisfied,” said the good little father; “I see that + you take great interest in his salvation.” + </p> + <p> + “Great interest.” + </p> + <p> + “It is very praiseworthy in you. Continue as you have begun, and you + may one day belong, completely to our Company,” said Father + Caboccini, affectionately. + </p> + <p> + “I am as yet but a poor auxiliary member,” said Faringhea, + humbly; “but no one is more devoted to the Society, body and soul. + Bowanee is nothing to it.” + </p> + <p> + “Bowanee! who is that, my good friend?” + </p> + <p> + “Bowanee makes corpses which rot in the ground. The Society makes + corpses which walk about.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, yes! Perinde ac cadaver—they were the last words of our + great saint, Ignatius de Loyola. But who is this Bowanee?” + </p> + <p> + “Bowanee is to the Society what a child is to a man,” replied + the Asiatic, with growing excitement. “Glory to the Company—glory! + Were my father its enemy, I would kill my father. The man whose genius + inspires me most with admiration, respect, and terror—were he its + enemy, I would kill, in spite of all,” said the half-caste, with an + effort. Then, after a moment’s silence, he looked full in Caboccini’s + face, and added: “I say this, that you may report my words to + Cardinal Malipieri, and beg him to mention them to—” + </p> + <p> + Faringhea stopped short. “To whom should the cardinal mention your + words?” asked Caboccini. + </p> + <p> + “He knows,” replied the half-caste, abruptly. “Good + night!” + </p> + <p> + “Good-night, my friend! I can only approve of your excellent + sentiments with regard to our Company. Alas! it is in want of energetic + defenders, for there are said to be traitors in its bosom.” + </p> + <p> + “For those,” said Faringhea, “we must have no pity.” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly,” said the good little father; “we understand + one another.” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps,” said the half-caste. “Do not, at all events, + forget to remind Father Rodin to go to chapel to-morrow morning.” + </p> + <p> + “I will take care of that,” said Father Caboccini. + </p> + <p> + The two men parted. On his return to the house, Caboccini learned that a + courier, only arrived that night from Rome, had brought despatches to + Rodin. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0173" id="link2HCH0173"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER LXVIII. THE FIRST OF JUNE. + </h2> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>he chapel + belonging to the house of the reverend fathers in the Rue de Vaugirard, + was gay and elegant. Large panes of stained glass admitted a mysterious + light; the altar shone with gold and silver; and at the entrance of this + little church, in an obscure corner beneath the organ loft, was a font for + holy water in sculptured marble. It was close to this font, in a dark nook + where he could hardly be seen, that Faringhea knelt down, early on the 1st + of June, as soon indeed as the chapel doors were opened. The half-caste + was exceedingly sad. From time to time he started and sighed, as if + agitated by a violent internal struggle. This wild, untamable being, + possessed with the monomania of evil and destruction, felt, as may be + imagined, a profound admiration for Rodin, who exercised over him a kind + of magnetic fascination. The half-caste, almost a wild beast in human + form, saw something supernatural in the infernal genius of Rodin. And the + latter, too sagacious not to have discovered the savage devotion of this + wretch, had made, as we have seen, good use of him, is bringing about the + tragical termination of the loves of Adrienne and Djalma. But what excited + to an incredible degree the admiration of Faringhea, was what he knew of + the Society of Jesus. This immense, occult power, which undermined the + world by its subterraneous ramifications, and reached its ends by + diabolical means, had inspired the half-caste with a wild enthusiasm. And + if anything in the world surpassed his fanatical admiration for Rodin, it + was his blind devotion to the Company of Ignatius de Loyola, which, as he + said, could make corpses that walk about. Hid in the shadow of the + organ-loft, Faringhea was reflecting deeply on these things, when + footsteps were heard, and Rodin entered the chapel, accompanied by his + socius, the little one-eyed father. + </p> + <p> + Whether from absence of mind, or that the shadow of the orange-loft + completely concealed the half-caste, Rodin dipped his fingers into the + font without perceiving Faringhea, who stood motionless as a statue, + though a cold sweat streamed from his brow. The prayer of Rodin was, as + may be supposed, short; he was in haste to get to the Rue Saint-Francois. + After kneeling down with Father Caboccini for a few seconds, he rose, + bowed respectfully to the altar, and returned towards the door, followed + by his socius. At the moment Rodin approached the font he perceived the + tall figure of the half-caste standing out from the midst of the dark + shadow; advancing a little, Faringhea bowed respectfully to Rodin, who + said to him, in a low voice; “Come to me at two o’clock.” + </p> + <p> + So saying, Rodin stretched forth his hand to dip it into the holy water; + but Faringhea spared him the trouble, by offering him the sprinkling + brush, which generally stood in the font. + </p> + <p> + Pressing between his dirty fingers the damp hairs of the brush, which the + half-caste held by the handle, Rodin wetted his thumb and forefinger, and, + according to custom, traced the sign of the cross upon his forehead. Then, + opening the door of the chapel, he went out, after again repeating to + Faringhea: “Come to me at two o’clock.” + </p> + <p> + Thinking he would also make use of the sprinkling-brush, which, Faringhea, + still motionless, held with a trembling hand, Father Caboccini stretched + out his fingers to reach it, when the half-breed, as if determined to + confine his favors to Rodin, hastily withdrew the instrument. Deceived in + his expectation, Father Caboccini lost no time in following Rodin, whom he + was not to leave that day for a single moment, and, getting into a + hackney-coach with him, set out for the Rue Saint-Francois. It is + impossible to describe the look which the half breed fixed upon Rodin as + the latter quitted the chapel. Left alone in the sacred edifice, Faringhea + sank upon the stones, half kneeling, half crouching, with his face buried + in his hands. As the coach drew near the quarter of the Marais, in which + was situated the house of Marius de Rennepont, a feverish agitation, and + the devouring impatience of triumph, were visible on the countenance of + Rodin. Two or three times he opened his pocketbook, and read and arranged + the different certificates of death of the various members of the + Rennepont family; and from time to time he thrust his head anxiously from + the coach-window, as if he had wished to hasten the slow progress of the + vehicle. + </p> + <p> + The good little father, his socius, did not take his eye off Rodin, and + his look had a strange and crafty expression. At last the coach entered + the Rue Saint-Francois, and stopped before the iron-studded door of the + old house, which had been closed for a century and a half. Rodin sprang + from the coach with the agility of a young man, and knocked violently at + the door, whilst Father Caboccini, less light of foot, descended more + prudently to the ground. No answer was returned to the loud knocking of + Rodin. Trembling with anxiety, he knocked again. This time, as he listened + attentively, he heard slow steps approaching. They stopped at some + distance from the door, which was not yet opened. + </p> + <p> + “It is keeping one upon red-hot coals,” said Rodin, for he + felt as if there was a burning fire in his chest. He again shook the door + violently, and began to gnaw his nails according to his custom. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly the door opened, and Samuel, the Jew guardian, appeared beneath + the porch. The countenance of the old man expressed bitter grief. Upon his + venerable cheeks were the traces of recent tears, which he strove to dry + with his trembling hands, as he opened the door to Rodin. + </p> + <p> + “Who are you, gentlemen?” said Samuel. + </p> + <p> + “I am the bearer of a power of attorney from the Abbe Gabriel, the + only living representative of the Rennepont family,” answered Rodin, + hastily. “This gentleman is my secretary,” added he, pointing + to Father Caboccini, who bowed. + </p> + <p> + After looking attentively at Rodin, Samuel resumed: “I recognize + you, sir. Please to follow me.” And the old guardian advanced + towards the house in the garden, making a sign to the two reverend fathers + to follow. + </p> + <p> + “That confounded old man kept me so long at the door,” said + Rodin to his socius, “that I think I have caught a cold in + consequence. My lips and throat are dried up, like parchment baked at the + fire.” + </p> + <p> + “Will you not take something, my dear, good father? Suppose you were + to ask this man for a glass of water,” cried the little one-eyed + priest, with tender solicitude. + </p> + <p> + “No, no,” answered Rodin; “it is nothing. I am devoured + by impatience. That is all.” + </p> + <p> + Pale and desolate, Bathsheba, the wife of Samuel, was standing at the door + of the apartment she occupied with her husband, in the building next the + street. As the Jew passed before her, he said, in Hebrew: “The + curtains of the Hall of Mourning?” + </p> + <p> + “Are closed.” + </p> + <p> + “And the iron casket?” + </p> + <p> + “Is prepared,” answered Bathsheba, also in Hebrew. + </p> + <p> + After pronouncing these words, completely unintelligible to Rodin and + Caboccini, Samuel and Bathsheba exchanged a bitter smile, notwithstanding + the despair impressed on their countenances. + </p> + <p> + Ascending the steps, followed by the two reverend fathers, Samuel entered + the vestibule of the house, in which a lamp was burning. Endowed with an + excellent local memory, Rodin was about to take the direction of the Red + Saloon, in which had been held the first convocation of the heirs, when + Samuel stopped him, and said: “It is not that way.” + </p> + <p> + Then, taking the lamp, he advanced towards a dark staircase, for the + windows of the house had not been un-bricked. + </p> + <p> + “But,” said Rodin, “the last time, we met in a saloon on + the ground floor.” + </p> + <p> + “To-day, we must go higher,” answered Samuel, as he began + slowly to ascend the stairs. + </p> + <p> + “Where to? higher!” said Rodin, following him. + </p> + <p> + “To the Hall of Mourning,” replied the Jew, and he continued + to ascend. + </p> + <p> + “What is the Hall of Mourning?” resumed Rodin, in some + surprise. + </p> + <p> + “A place of tears and death,” answered the Israelite; and he + kept on ascending through the darkness, for the little lamp threw but a + faint light around. + </p> + <p> + “But,” said Rodin, more and more astonished, and stopping + short on the stairs, “why go to this place?” + </p> + <p> + “The money is there,” answered Samuel, and he went on, + </p> + <p> + “Oh? if the money is there, that alters the case,” replied + Rodin; and he made haste to regain the few steps he had lost by stopping. + </p> + <p> + Samuel continued to ascend, and, at a turn of the staircase, the two + Jesuits could see by the pale light of the little lamp, the profile of the + old Israelite, in the space left between the iron balustrade and the wall, + as he climbed on with difficulty above them. Rodin was struck with the + expression of Samuel’s countenance. His black eyes, generally so + calm, sparkled with ardor. His features, usually impressed with a mixture + of sorrow, intelligence, and goodness, seemed to grow harsh and stern, and + his thin lips wore a strange smile. + </p> + <p> + “It is not so very high,” whispered Rodin to Caboccini, + “and yet my legs ache, and I am quite out of breath. There is a + strange throbbing too in my temples.” + </p> + <p> + In fact, Rodin breathed hard, and with difficulty. To this confidential + communication, good little Father Caboccini, in general so full of tender + care for his colleague, made no answer. He seemed to be in deep thought. + </p> + <p> + “Will we soon be there?” said Rodin, impatiently, to Samuel. + </p> + <p> + “We are there,” replied the Israelite. + </p> + <p> + “And a good thing too,” said Rodin. + </p> + <p> + “Very good,” said the Jew. + </p> + <p> + Stopping in the midst of a corridor, he pointed with the hand in which he + held the lamp to a large door from which streamed a faint light. In spite + of his growing surprise. Rodin entered resolutely, followed by Father + Caboccini and Samuel. The apartment in which these three personage, now + found themselves was very large. The daylight only entered from a + belvedere in the roof, the four sides of which had been covered with + leaden plates, each of which was pierced with seven holes, forming a + cross, thus: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + * + * * * + * + * + * +</pre> + <p> + Now, the light being only admitted through these holes, the obscurity + would have been complete, had it not been for a lamp, which burned on a + large massive slab of black marble, fixed against one of the walls. One + would have taken it for a funeral chamber, for it was all hung with black + curtains, fringed with white. There was no furniture, save the slab of + black marble we have already mentioned. On this slab was an iron casket, + of the manufacture of the seventeenth century, admirably adorned with open + work, like lace made of metal. + </p> + <p> + Addressing Rodin, who was wiping his forehead with his dirty handkerchief, + and looking round him with surprise, but not fear, Samuel said to him: + “The will of the testator, however strange it may appear, is sacred + with me, and must be accomplished in all things.” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly,” said Rodin; “but what are we to do here?” + </p> + <p> + “You will know presently, sir. You are the representative of the + only remaining heir of the Rennepont family, the Abbe Gabriel de + Rennepont?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir, and here are my papers,” replied Rodin. + </p> + <p> + “To save time,” resumed Samuel, “I will, previous to the + arrival of the magistrate, go through the inventory of the securities + contained in this casket, which I withdrew yesterday from the custody of + the Bank of France.” + </p> + <p> + “The securities are there?” cried Rodin, advancing eagerly + towards the casket. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir,” replied Samuel, “as by the list. Your + secretary will call them over, and I will produce each in turn. They can + then be replaced in the casket, which I will deliver up to you in presence + of the magistrate.” + </p> + <p> + “All this seems perfectly correct,” said Rodin. + </p> + <p> + Samuel delivered the list to Father Caboccini, and approaching the casket, + touched a spring, which was not seen by Rodin. The heavy lid flew open, + and, while Father Caboccini read the names of the different securities, + Samuel showed them to Rodin, who returned them to the old Jew, after a + careful examination. This verification did not last long, for this immense + fortune was all comprised, as we already know, in eight government + securities, five hundred thousand francs in bank-note, thirty five + thousand francs in gold, and two hundred and fifty francs in silver—making + in all an amount of two hundred and twelve millions, one hundred and + seventy-five thousand francs. When Rodin had counted the last of the five + hundred bank-notes, of a thousand francs each, he said, as he returned + them to Samuel: “It is quite right. Two hundred and twelve millions, + one hundred and seventy-five thousand francs!” + </p> + <p> + He was no doubt almost choked with joy, for he breathed with difficulty, + his eyes closed, and he was obliged to lean upon Father Caboccini’s + arm, as he said to him in an altered voice: “It is singular. I + thought myself proof against all such emotions; but what I feel is + extraordinary.” + </p> + <p> + The natural paleness of the Jesuit increased so much, and he seemed so + much agitated with convulsive movements, that Father Caboccini exclaimed: + “My dear father, collect yourself; do not let success overcome you + thus.” + </p> + <p> + Whilst the little one-eyed man was, attending to Rodin, Samuel carefully + replaced the securities in the iron casket. Thanks to his unconquerable + energy, and to the joy he felt at seeing himself so near the term of his + labors, Rodin mastered this attack of weakness, and drawing himself up, + calm and proud, he said to Caboccini: “It is nothing. I did not + survive the cholera to die of joy on the first of June.” + </p> + <p> + And, though still frightfully pale, the countenance of the Jesuit shone + with audacious confidence. But now, when Rodin appeared to be quite + recovered, Father Caboccini seemed suddenly transformed. Though short, + fat, and one-eyed, his features assumed on the instant so firm, harsh, and + commanding an expression, that Rodin recoiled a step as he looked at him. + Then Father Caboccini, drawing a paper from his pocket, kissed it + respectfully, glanced sternly at Rodin, and read as follows, in a severe + and menacing tone: + </p> + <p> + “‘On receipt of the present rescript, the Reverend Father + Rodin will deliver up all his powers to the Reverend Father Caboccini, who + is alone commissioned, with the Reverend Father d’Aigrigny, to + receive the inheritance of the Rennepont family, if, in His eternal + justice, the Lord should restore this property, of which our Company has + been wronged. + </p> + <p> + “‘Moreover, on receipt of the present rescript, the Reverend + Father Rodin, in charge of a person to be named by the Reverend Father + Caboccini, shall be conveyed to our house in the Town of Laval, to be kept + in strict seclusion in his cell until further orders.’” + </p> + <p> + Then Father Caboccini handed the rescript to Rodin, that the latter might + read the signature of the General of the Company. Samuel, greatly + interested by this scene, drew a few steps nearer, leaving the casket + half-open. Suddenly, Rodin burst into a loud laugh—a laugh of joy, + contempt and triumph, impossible to describe. Father Caboccini looked at + him with angry astonishment; when Rodin, growing still more imperious and + haughty, and with an air of more sovereign disdain than ever, pushed aside + the paper with the back of his dirty hand and said: “What is the + date of that scribble?” + </p> + <p> + “The eleventh of May,” answered Father Caboccini in amazement. + </p> + <p> + “Here is a brief, that I received last night from Rome, under date + of the eighteenth. It informs me that I am appointed GENERAL OF THE ORDER. + Read!” + </p> + <p> + Father Caboccini took the paper, read it, and remained thunderstruck. + Then, returning it humbly to Rodin, he respectfully bent his knee before + him. Thus seemed the ambitious views of Rodin accomplished. In spite of + the hatred and suspicion of that party, of which Cardinal Malipieri was + the representative and the chief, Rodin, by address and craft, audacity + and persuasion, and in consequence of the high esteem in which his + partisans at Rome held his rare capacity, had succeeded in deposing his + General, and in procuring his own elevation to that eminent post. Now, + according to his calculation, aided by the millions he was about to + possess, it would be but one step from that post to the pontifical throne. + A mute witness of this scene, Samuel smiled also with an air of triumph, + as he closed the casket by means of the spring known only to himself. That + metallic sound recalled Rodin from the heights of his mad ambition to the + realities of life, and he said to Samuel in a sharp voice: “You have + heard? These millions must be delivered to me alone.” + </p> + <p> + He extended his hands eagerly and impatiently towards the casket, as if he + would have taken possession of it, before the arrival of the magistrate. + Then Samuel in his turn seemed transfigured, and, folding his arms upon + his breast, and drawing up his aged form to its full height, he assumed a + threatening and imposing air. His eyes flashed with indignation, and he + said in a solemn tone: “This fortune—at first the humble + remains of the inheritance of the most noble of men, whom the plots of the + sons of Loyola drove to suicide—this fortune, which has since become + royal in amount, thanks to the sacred probity of three generations of + faithful servants—this fortune shall never be the reward of + falsehood, hypocrisy and murder. No! the eternal justice of heaven will + not allow it.” + </p> + <p> + “On murder? what do you mean, sir?” asked Rodin, boldly. + </p> + <p> + Samuel made no answer. He stamped his foot, and extended his arm slowly + towards the extremity of the apartment. Then Rodin and Father Caboccini + beheld an awful spectacle. The draperies on the wall were drawn aside, as + if by an invisible hand. Round a funeral vault, faintly illumined-by the + bluish light of a silver lamp, six dead bodies were ranged upon black + biers, dressed in long black robes. They were: Jacques Rennepont—Francois + Hardy—Rose and Blanche Simon—Adrienne and Djalma. They + appeared to be asleep. Their eyelids were closed, their hands crossed over + their breasts. Father Caboccini, trembling in every limb, made the sign of + the cross, and retreating to the opposite wall, buried his face in his + hands. Rodin on the contrary, with agitated countenance, staring eyes, and + hair standing on end, yielding to an invincible attraction, advanced + towards those inanimate forms. One would have said that these last of the + Renneponts had only just expired. They seemed to be in the first hour of + the eternal sleep.(44) + </p> + <p> + “Behold those whom thou host slain!” cried Samuel, in a voice + broken with sobs. “Yea! your detestable plots caused their death—and, + as they fell one by one, it was my pious care to obtain possession of + their poor remains, that they may all repose in the same sepulchre. Oh!—cursed—cursed—cursed—be + thou who has killed them! But their spoils shall escape thy murderous + hands.” + </p> + <p> + Rodin, still drawn forward in spite of himself, had approached the funeral + couch of Djalma. Surmounting his first alarm, the Jesuit, to assure + himself that he was not the sport of frightful dream, ventured to touch + the hands of the Asiatic—and found that they were damp and pliant, + though cold as ice. + </p> + <p> + The Jesuit drew back in horror. For some seconds, he trembled + convulsively. But, his first amazement over, reflection returned, and, + with reflection came that invincible energy, that infernal obstinacy of + character, that gave him so much power. Steadying himself on his legs, + drawing his hand across his brow, raising his head, moistening his lips + two or three times before he spoke—for his throat and mouth grew + ever drier and hotter, without his being able to explain the cause—he + succeeded in giving to his features an imperious and ironical expression, + and, turning towards Samuel, who wept in silence, he said to him, in a + hoarse, guttural voice: “I need not show you the certificates of + their death. There they are in person.” And he pointed with his bony + hand to the six dead bodies. + </p> + <p> + At these words of his General, Father Caboccini again made the sign of the + cross, as if he had seen a fiend. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, my God!” cried Samuel; “Thou hast quite abandoned + this man. With what a calm look he contemplates his victims!” + </p> + <p> + “Come, sir!” said Rodin, with a horrid smile; “this is a + natural waxwork exhibition, that is all. My calmness proves my innocence—and + we had best come at once to business. I have an appointment at two o’clock. + So let us carry down this casket.” + </p> + <p> + He advanced towards the marble slab. Seized with indignation and horror, + Samuel threw himself before him, and, pressing with all his might on a + knob in the lid of the casket—a knob which yielded to the pressure—he + exclaimed: “Since your infernal soul is incapable of remorse, it may + perhaps be shaken by disappointed avarice.” + </p> + <p> + “What does he say?” cried Rodin. “What is he doing?” + </p> + <p> + “Look!” said Samuel, in his turn assuming an air of savage + triumph. “I told you, that the spoils of your victims should escape + your murderous hands.” + </p> + <p> + Hardly had he uttered these words, before through the open-work of the + iron casket rose a light cloud of smoke, and an odor as of burnt paper + spread itself through the room. Rodin understood it instantly. “Fire!” + he exclaimed, as he rushed forward to seize the casket. It had been made + fast to the heavy marble slab. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, fire,” said Samuel. “In a few minutes, of that + immense treasure there will remain nothing but ashes. And better so, than + that it should belong to you or yours. This treasure is not mine, and it + only remains for me to destroy it—since Gabriel de Rennepont will be + faithful to the oath he has taken.” + </p> + <p> + “Help! water! water!” cried Rodin, as he covered the casket + with his body, trying in vain to extinguish the flames, which, fanned by + the current of air, now issued from the thousand apertures in the lid; but + soon the intensity of the fire diminished, a few threads of bluish smoke + alone mounted upwards—and then, all was extinct. + </p> + <p> + The work was done! Breathless and faint, Rodin leaned against the marble + slab. For the first time in his life, he wept; large tears of rage rolled + down his cadaverous cheeks. But suddenly, dreadful pains, at first dull, + but gradually augmenting in intensity, seized on him with so much fury, + though he employed all his energy to struggle against them, that he fell + on his knees, and, pressing his two hands to his chest, murmured with an + attempt to smile: “It is nothing. Do not be alarmed. A few spasms—that + is all. The treasure is destroyed—but I remain General of the Order. + Oh! I suffer. What a furnace!” he added, writhing in agony. “Since + I entered this cursed house, I know not what ails me. If—I had not + lived on roots—water—bread—which I go myself to buy—I + should think—I was poisoned—for I triumph—and Cardinal + Malipieri has long arms. Yes—I still triumph—for I will not + die—this time no more than the other—I will not die!” + </p> + <p> + Then, as he stretched out his arms convulsively, he continued: “It + is fire that devours my entrails. No doubt, they have tried to poison me. + But when? but how?” + </p> + <p> + After another pause, Rodin again cried out, in a stifled voice: “Help! + help me, you that stand looking on—like, spectres!—Help me, I + say!” + </p> + <p> + Horror-struck at this dreadful agony, Samuel and Father Caboccini were + unable to stir. + </p> + <p> + “Help!” repeated Rodin, in a tone of strangulation, “This + poison is horrible.—But how—” Then, with a terrific cry + of rage, as if a sudden idea had struck him, he exclaimed: “Ha! + Faringhea—this morning—the holy water—he knows such + subtle poisons. Yes—it is he—he had an interview with + Malipieri. The demon!—Oh! it was well played. The Borgias are still + the same. Oh! it is all over. I die. They will regret me, the fools!—Oh! + hell! hell! The Church knows not its loss—but I burn—help!” + </p> + <p> + They came to his assistance. Quick steps were heard upon the stairs, and + Dr. Baleinier, followed by the Princess de Saint-Dizier, appeared at the + entrance of the Hall of Mourning. The princess had learned vaguely that + morning the death of Father d’Aigrigny, and had come to question + Rodin upon the subject. When this woman, entering the room, suddenly saw + the frightful spectacle that offered itself to her view—when she saw + Rodin writhing in horrible agony, and, further on, by the light of the + sepulchral lamp, those six corpses—and, amongst them, her own niece, + and the two orphans whom she had sent to meet their death—she stood + petrified with horror, and her reason was unable to withstand the shock. + She looked slowly round her, and then raised her arms on high, and burst + into a wild fit of laughter. She had gone mad. Whilst Dr. Baleinier + supported the head of Rodin, who expired in his arms, Faringhea appeared + at the door; remaining in the shade, he cast a ferocious glance at the + corpse of the Jesuit. “He would have made himself the chief of the + Company of Jesus, to destroy it,” said he; “with me, the + Company of Jesus stands in the place of Bowanee. I have obeyed the + cardinal!” + </p> + <p> + (44) Should this appear incredible, we would remind the reader of the + marvellous discoveries in the art of embalming—particularly Dr. + Gannal’s. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_EPIL2" id="link2H_EPIL2"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + EPILOGUE. + </h2> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0174" id="link2HCH0174"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER I. FOUR YEARS AFTER. + </h2> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">F</span>our years had + elapsed, since the events we have just related, when Gabriel de Rennepont + wrote the following letter to Abbe Joseph Charpentier, curate of the + Parish of Saint-Aubin, a hamlet of Sologne: + </p> + <p> + “Springwater Farm, “June 2d, 1836. + </p> + <p> + “Intending to write to you yesterday, my bear Joseph, I seated + myself at the little old black table, that you will remember well. My + window looks, you know, upon the farmyard, and I can see all that takes + place there. These are grave preliminaries, my friend, but I am coming to + the point. I had just taken my seat at the table, when, looking from the + window, this is what I saw. You, my dear Joseph, who can draw so well, + should have been there to have sketched the charming scene. The sun was + sinking, the sky serene, the air warm and balmy with the breath of the + hawthorn, which, flowering by the side of a little rivulet, forms the edge + which borders the yard. Under the large pear-tree, close to the wall of + the barn, sat upon the stone bench my adopted father, Dagobert, that brave + and honest soldier whom you love so much. He appeared thoughtful, his + white head was bowed on his bosom; with absent mind, he patted old + Spoil-sport, whose intelligent face was resting on his master’s + knees. By his side was his wife, my dear adopted mother, occupied with her + sewing; and near them, on a stool, sat Angela, the wife of Agricola, + nursing her last-born child, while the gentle Magdalen, with the eldest + boy in her lap, was occupied in teaching him the letters of the alphabet. + Agricola had just returned from the fields, and was beginning to unyoke + his cattle, when, struck, like me, no doubt, with this picture, he stood + gazing on it for a moment, with his hand still leaning on the yoke, + beneath which bent submissive the broad foreheads of his two large black + oxen. I cannot express to you, my friend, the enchanting repose of this + picture, lighted by the last rays of the sun, here and there broken by the + thick foliage. What various and touching types! The venerable face of the + soldier—the good, loving countenance of my adopted mother—the + fresh beauty of Angela, smiling on her little child—the soft + melancholy of the hunchback, now and then pressing her lips to the fair, + laughing cheek of Agricola’s eldest son—and then Agricola + himself, in his manly beauty, which seems to reflect so well the valor and + honesty of his heart! Oh, my Friend! in contemplating this assemblage of + good, devoted, noble, and loving beings, so dear to each other, living + retired in a little farm of our poor Sologne, my heart rose towards heaven + with a feeling of ineffable gratitude. This peace of the family circle—this + clear evening, with the perfume of the woods and wild flowers wafted on + the breeze—this deep silence, only broken by the murmur of the + neighboring rill—all affected me with one of these passing fits of + vague and sweet emotion, which one feels but cannot express. You well know + it, my friend, who, in your solitary walks, in the midst of your immense + plains of flowering heath, surrounded by forests of fir trees, often feel + your eyes grow moist, without being able to explain the cause of that + sweet melancholy, which I, too, have often felt, during those glorious + nights passed in the profound solitudes of America. + </p> + <p> + “But, alas! a painful incident disturbed the serenity of the + picture. Suddenly I heard Dagobert’s wife say to him: ‘My dear—you + are weeping!’ + </p> + <p> + “At these words, Agricola, Angela, and Magdalen gathered round the + soldier. Anxiety was visible upon every face. Then, as he raised his head + abruptly, one could see two large tears trickle down his cheek to his + white moustache. ‘It is nothing, my children,’ said he, in a + voice of emotion ‘it is nothing. Only, to-day is the first of June—and + this day four years—’ He could not complete the sentence; and, + as he raised his hands to his eyes, to brush away the tears, we saw that + he held between his fingers a little bronze chain, with a medal suspended + to it. That is his dearest relic. Four years ago, almost dying with + despair at the loss of the two angels, of whom I have so often spoken to + you, my friend, he took from the neck of Marshal Simon, brought home dead + from a fatal duel, this chain and medal which his children had so long + worn. I went down instantly, as you may suppose, to endeavor to soothe the + painful remembrances of this excellent man; gradually, he grew calmer, and + the evening was passed in a pious and quiet sadness. + </p> + <p> + “You cannot imagine, my friend, when I returned to my chamber, what + cruel thoughts came to my mind, as I recalled those past events, from + which I generally turn away with fear and horror. Then I saw once more the + victims of those terrible and mysterious plots, the awful depths of which + have never been penetrated thanks to the death of Father d’A. and + Father R., and the incurable madness of Madame de St.-D., the three + authors or accomplices of the dreadful deeds. The calamities occasioned by + them are irreparable; for those who were thus sacrificed to a criminal + ambition, would have been the pride of humanity by the good they would + have done. Ah, my friend! if you had known those noble hearts; if you had + known the projects of splendid charity, formed by that young lady, whose + heart was so generous, whose mind so elevated, whose soul so great! On the + eve of her death, as a kind of prelude to her magnificent designs, after a + conversation, the subject of which I must keep secret, even from you, she + put into my hands a considerable sum, saying, with her usual grace and + goodness: ‘I have been threatened with ruin, and it might perhaps + come. What I now confide to you will at least be safe—safe—for + those who suffer. Give much—give freely—make as many happy + hearts as you can. My happiness shall have a royal inauguration!!’ I + do not know whether I ever told you, my friend, that, after those fatal + events, seeing Dagobert and his wife reduced to misery, poor ‘Mother + Bunch’ hardly able to earn a wretched subsistence, Agricola soon to + become a father, and myself deprived of my curacy, and suspended by my + bishop, for having given religious consolations to a Protestant, and + offered up prayers at the tomb of an unfortunate suicide—I + considered myself justified in employing a small portion of the sum + intrusted to me by Mdlle. de Cardoville in the purchase of this farm in + Dagobert’s name. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, my friend, such is the origin of my fortune. The farmer to + whom these few acres formerly belonged, gave us the rudiments of our + agricultural education, and common sense, and the study of a few good + practical books, completed it. From an excellent workman, Agricola has + become an equally excellent husbandman; I have tried to imitate him, and + have put my hand also to the plough there is no derogation in it, for the + labor which provides food for man is thrice hallowed, and it is truly to + serve and glorify God, to cultivate and enrich the earth He has created. + Dagobert, when his first grief was a little appeased, seemed to gather new + vigor from this healthy life of the fields; and, during his exile in + Siberia, he had already learned to till the ground. Finally, my dear + adopted mother and sister, and Agricola’s good wife, have divided + between them the household cares; and God has blessed this little colony + of people, who, alas! have been sorely tried by misfortune, and who now + only ask of toil and solitude, a quite, laborious, innocent life, and + oblivion of great sorrows. Sometimes, in our winter evenings, you have + been able to appreciate the delicate and charming mind of the gentle + ‘Mother Bunch,’ the rare poetical imagination of Agricola, the + tenderness of his mother, the good sense of his father, the exquisite + natural grace of Angela. Tell me, my friend, was it possible to unite more + elements of domestic happiness? What long evenings have we passed round + the fire of crackling wood, reading, or commenting on a few immortal + works, which always warm the heart, and enlarge the soul! What sweet talk + have we had, prolonged far into the night! And then Agricola’s + pastorals, and the timid literary confidences of Magdalen! And the fresh, + clear voice of Angela, joined to the deep manly tones of Agricola, in + songs of simple melody! And the old stories of Dagobert, so energetic and + picturesque in their warlike spirit! And the adorable gayety of the + children, in their sports with good old Spoil-sport, who rather lends + himself to their play than takes part in it—for the faithful, + intelligent creature seems always to be looking for somebody, as Dagobert + says—and he is right. Yes, the dog also regrets those two angels, of + whom he was the devoted guardian! + </p> + <p> + “Do not think, my friend, that our happiness makes us forgetful. No, + no; not a day passes without our repeating, with pious and tender respect, + those names so dear to our heart. And these painful memories, hovering + forever about us, give to our calm and happy existence that shade of mild + seriousness which struck you so much. No doubt, my friend, this kind of + life, bounded by the family circle, and not extending beyond, for the + happiness or improvement of our brethren, may be set down as selfish; but, + alas! we have not the means—and though the poor man always finds a + place at our frugal table, and shelter beneath our roof, we must renounce + all great projects of fraternal action. The little revenue of our farm + just suffices to supply our wants. Alas! when I think over it, + notwithstanding a momentary regret, I cannot blame my resolution to keep + faithfully my sacred oath, and to renounce that great inheritance, which, + alas! had become immense by the death of my kindred. Yes, I believe I + performed a duty, when I begged the guardian of that treasure to reduce it + to ashes, rather than let it fall into the hands of people, who would have + made an execrable use of it, or to perjure myself by disputing a donation + which I had granted freely, voluntarily, sincerely. And yet, when I + picture to myself the realization of the magnificent views of—my + ancestor—an admirable Utopia, only possible with immense resources—and + which Mdlle. de Cardoville hoped to carry into execution, with the aid of + M. Francois Hardy, of Prince Djalma, of Marshal Simon and his daughters, + and of myself—when I think of the dazzling focus of living forces, + which such an association would have been, and of the immense influence it + might have had on the happiness of the whole human race—my + indignation and horror, as an honest man and a Christian, are excited + against that abominable Company, whose black plots nipped in their bud all + those great hopes, which promised so much for futurity. What remains now + of all these splendid projects? Seven tombs. For my grave also is dug in + that mausoleum, which Samuel has erected on the site of the house in the + Rue Neuve-Saint-Francois, and of which he remains the keeper—faithful + to the end! + </p> + <p> + “I had written thus far, my friend, when I received your letter. So, + after having forbidden you to see me, your bishop now orders that you + shall cease to correspond with me. Your touching, painful regrets have + deeply moved me, my friend. Often have we talked together of + ecclesiastical discipline, and of the absolute power of the bishops over, + us, the poor working clergy, left to their mercy without remedy. It is + painful, but it is the law of the church, my friend, and you have sworn to + observe it. Submit as I have submitted. Every engagement is binding upon + the man of honor! My poor, dear Joseph! would that you had the + compensations which remained to me, after the rupture of ties that I so + much value. But I know too well what you must feel—I cannot go on I + find it impossible to continue this letter, I might be bitter against + those whose orders we are bound to respect. Since it must be so, this + letter shall be my last. Farewell, my friend! farewell forever. My heart + is almost broken. + </p> + <p> + “GABRIEL DE RENNEPONT.” <a name="link2HCH0175" + id="link2HCH0175"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER II. THE REDEMPTION. + </h2> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">D</span>ay was about to + dawn. A rosy light, almost imperceptible, began to glimmer in the east; + but the stars still shone, sparkling with radiance, upon the azure of the + zenith. The birds awoke beneath the fresh foliage of the great woods; and, + with isolated warblings, sang the prelude of their morning-concert. A + light mist rose from the high grass, bathed in nocturnal dew, while the + calm and limpid waters of a vast lake reflected the whitening dawn in + their deep, blue mirror. Everything promised one of those warm and joyous + days, that belong to the opening of summer. + </p> + <p> + Half-way up the slope of a hill, facing the east, a tuft of old, moss + grown willows, whose rugged bark disappeared beneath the climbing branches + of wild honeysuckle and harebells, formed a natural harbor; and on their + gnarled and enormous roots, covered with thick moss, were seated a man and + a woman, whose white hair, deep wrinkles, and bending figures, announced + extreme old age. And yet this woman had only lately been young and + beautiful, with long black hair overshadowing her pale forehead. And yet + this man had, a short time ago, been still in the vigor of his age. From + the spot where this man and woman were reposing, could be seen the valley, + the lake, the woods, and, soaring above the woods, the blue summit of a + high mountain, from behind which the sun was about to rise. This picture, + half veiled by the pale transparency of the morning twilight, was + pleasing, melancholy, and solemn. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, my sister!” said the old man to the woman, who was + reposing with him beneath the rustic arbor formed by the tuft of + willow-trees; “oh, my sister! how many times during the centuries in + which the hand of the Lord carried us onward, and, separated from each + other, we traversed the world from pole to pole—how many times we + have witnessed this awakening of nature with a sentiment of incurable + grief!—Alas! it was but another day of wandering—another + useless day added to our life, since it brought death no nearer!” + </p> + <p> + “But now what happiness, oh, my brother! since the Lord has had + mercy on us, and, with us, as with all other creatures, every returning + day is a step nearer to the grave. Glory to Him! yes, glory!” + </p> + <p> + “Glory to Him, my sister! for since yesterday, when we again met, I + feel that indescribable languor which announces the approach of death.” + </p> + <p> + “Like you, my brother, I feel my strength, already shaken, passing + away in a sweet exhaustion. Doubtless, the term of our life approaches. + The wrath of the Lord is satisfied.” + </p> + <p> + “Alas, my sister! doubtless also, the last of my doomed race, will, + at the same time, complete our redemption by his death; for the will of + heaven is manifest, that I can only be pardoned, when the last of my + family shall have disappeared from the face of the earth. To him, holiest + amongst the holiest—was reserved the favor of accomplishing this end + he who has done so much for the salvation of his brethren!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes, my brother! he who has suffered so much, and without + complaining, drunk to the dregs the bitter cup of woe—he, the + minister of the Lord, who has been his Master’s image upon earth—he + was fitted for the last instrument of this redemption!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, for I feel, my sister, that, at this hour, the last of my + race, touching victim of slow persecution, is on the point of resigning + his angelic soul to God. Thus, even to the end, have I been fatal to my + doomed family. Lord, if Thy mercy is great, Thy anger is great likewise!” + </p> + <p> + “Courage and hope, my brother! Think how after the expiration cometh + pardon, and pardon is followed by a blessing. The Lord punished, in you + and your posterity, the artisan rendered wicked by misfortune and + injustice. He said to you: ‘Go on! without truce or rest—and + your labor shall be vain—and every evening, throwing yourself on the + hard ground, you shall be no nearer to the end of your eternal course!’—And + so, for centuries, men without pity have said to the artisan: ‘Work! + work! work! without truce or rest—and your labor shall be fruitful + for all others, but fruitless for yourself—and every evening, + throwing yourself on the hard ground, you shall be no nearer to happiness + and repose; and your wages shall only suffice to keep you alive in pain, + privation, and poverty!’” + </p> + <p> + “Alas! alas! will it be always thus?” + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:65%;"> + <img src="images/30491m.jpg" alt="30491m” width=" /><br /> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/30491.jpg"><i>Original</i></a> + </h5> + <p> + “No, no, my brother! and instead of weeping over your lost race, + rejoice for them—since their death was needed for your redemption, + and in redeeming you, heaven will redeem the artisan, cursed and feared by + those—who have laid on him the iron yoke. Yes, my brother! the time + draweth nigh—heaven’s mercy will not stop with us alone. Yes, + I tell you; in us will be rescued both the WOMAN and the SLAVE of these + modern ages. The trial has been hard, brother; it has lasted throughout + eighteen centuries; but it will last no longer. Look, my brother! see that + rosy light, there in the east, gradually spreading over the firmament! + Thus will rise the sun of the new emancipation—peaceful, holy, + great, salutary, fruitful, filling the world with light and vivifying + heat, like the day-star that will soon appear in heaven!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes, my sister! I feel it. Your words are prophetic. We shall + close our heavy eyes just as we see the aurora of the day of deliverance—a + fair, a splendid day, like that which is about to dawn. Henceforth I will + only shed tears of pride and glory for those of my race, who have died the + martyrs of humanity, sacrificed by humanity’s eternal enemies—for + the true ancestors of the sacrilegious wretches, who blaspheme the name of + Jesus by giving it to their Company, were the false Scribes and Pharisees, + whom the Saviour cursed!—Yes! glory to the descendants of my family, + who have been the last martyrs offered up by the accomplices of all + slavery and all despotism, the pitiless enemies of those who wish to + think, and not to suffer in silence—of those that would feign enjoy, + as children of heaven, the gifts which the Creator has bestowed upon all + the human family. Yes, the day approaches—the end of the reign of + our modern Pharisees—the false priests, who lend their sacrilegious + aid to the merciless selfishness of the strong against the weak, by daring + to maintain in the face of the exhaustless treasures of the creation, that + God has made man for tears, and sorrow, and suffering—the false + priests, who are the agents of all oppression, and would bow to the earth, + in brutish and hopeless humiliation, the brow of every creature. No, no! + let man lift his head proudly! God made him to be noble and intelligent + free and happy.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, my brother! your words also are prophetic. Yes, yes! the dawn + of that bright day approaches, even as the dawn of the natural day which, + by the mercy of God, will be our last on earth.” + </p> + <p> + “The last, my sister; for a strange weakness creeps over me, all + matter seems dissolving in me, and my soul aspires to mount to heaven.” + </p> + <p> + “Mine eyes are growing dim, brother; I can scarcely see that light + in the east, which lately appeared so red.” + </p> + <p> + “Sister! it is through a confused vapor that I now see the valley—the + lake—the woods. My strength fails me.” + </p> + <p> + “Blessed be God, brother! the moment of eternal rest is at hand.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, it comes, my sister! the sweetness of the everlasting sleep + takes possession of my senses.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, happiness! I am dying—” + </p> + <p> + “These eyes are closing, sister!” + </p> + <p> + “We are then forgiven!” + </p> + <p> + “Forgiven!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, my brother! may this Divine redemption extend to all those who + suffer upon the earth!” + </p> + <p> + “Die in peace, my sister! The great day has dawned—the sun is + rising—behold!” + </p> + <p> + “Blessed be God!” + </p> + <p> + “Blessed be God!” + </p> + <p> + And at the moment when those two voices ceased forever, the sun rose + radiant and dazzling, and deluged the valley with its beams. + </p> + <p> + To M. C—P—. + </p> + <p> + To you, my friend, I dedicated this book. To inscribe it with your name, + was to assume an engagement that, in the absence of talent, it should be + at least conscientious, sincere, and of a salutary influence, however + limited. My object is attained. Some select hearts, like yours, my friend, + have put into practice the legitimate association of labor, capital, and + intelligence, and have already granted to their workmen a proportionate + share in the profits of their industry. Others have laid the foundations + of Common Dwelling-houses, and one of the chief capitalists of Hamburg has + favored me with his views respecting an establishment of this kind, on the + most gigantic scale. + </p> + <p> + As for the dispersion of the members of the Company of Jesus, I have taken + less part in it than other enemies of the detestable doctrines of Loyola, + whose influence and authority were far greater than mine. + </p> + <p> + Adieu, my friend. I could have wished this work more worthy of you; but + you are indulgent, and will at least give me credit for the intentions + which dictated it. + </p> + <p> + Believe me, Yours truly, + </p> + <p> + EUGENE SUE. + </p> + <p> + Paris, 25th August, 1845. Paris, 25th August, 1845. + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h1> + ILLUSTRATIONS BY GUSTAVE DORE + </h1> + <div class="fig" style="width:65%;"> + <img src="images/d10006m.jpg" alt="d10006m " width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/d10006.jpg"><i>Original</i></a> + </h5> + <div class="fig" style="width:65%;"> + <img src="images/d10058m.jpg" alt="d10058m " width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/d10058.jpg"><i>Original</i></a> + </h5> + <div class="fig" style="width:65%;"> + <img src="images/d10084m.jpg" alt="d10084m " width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/d10084.jpg"><i>Original</i></a> + </h5> + <div class="fig" style="width:65%;"> + <img src="images/d10110m.jpg" alt="d10110m " width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/d10110.jpg"><i>Original</i></a> + </h5> + <div class="fig" style="width:65%;"> + <img src="images/d10136m.jpg" alt="d10136m " width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/d10136.jpg"><i>Original</i></a> + </h5> + <div class="fig" style="width:65%;"> + <img src="images/d10162m.jpg" alt="d10162m " width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/d10162.jpg"><i>Original</i></a> + </h5> + <div class="fig" style="width:65%;"> + <img src="images/d20006m.jpg" alt="d20006m " width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/d20006.jpg"><i>Original</i></a> + </h5> + <div class="fig" style="width:65%;"> + <img src="images/d20056m.jpg" alt="d20056m " width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/d20056.jpg"><i>Original</i></a> + </h5> + <div class="fig" style="width:65%;"> + <img src="images/d20082m.jpg" alt="d20082m " width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/d20082.jpg"><i>Original</i></a> + </h5> + <div class="fig" style="width:65%;"> + <img src="images/d20108m.jpg" alt="d20108m " width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/d20108.jpg"><i>Original</i></a> + </h5> + <div class="fig" style="width:65%;"> + <img src="images/d20134m.jpg" alt="d20134m " width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/d20134.jpg"><i>Original</i></a> + </h5> + <div class="fig" style="width:65%;"> + <img src="images/d20160m.jpg" alt="d20160m " width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/d20160.jpg"><i>Original</i></a> + </h5> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + PORTRAITS BY GUSTAVE DORE + </h2> + <div class="fig" style="width:65%;"> + <img src="images/d30006m.jpg" alt="d30006m " width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/d30006.jpg"><i>Original</i></a> + </h5> + <div class="fig" style="width:65%;"> + <img src="images/d30056m.jpg" alt="d30056m " width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/d30056.jpg"><i>Original</i></a> + </h5> + <div class="fig" style="width:65%;"> + <img src="images/d30106m.jpg" alt="d30106m " width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/d30106.jpg"><i>Original</i></a> + </h5> + <div class="fig" style="width:65%;"> + <img src="images/d30204m.jpg" alt="d30204m " width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/d30204.jpg"><i>Original</i></a> + </h5> + <div class="fig" style="width:65%;"> + <img src="images/d30278m.jpg" alt="d30278m " width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/d30278.jpg"><i>Original</i></a> + </h5> + <div class="fig" style="width:65%;"> + <img src="images/d30352m.jpg" alt="d30352m " width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/d30352.jpg"><i>Original</i></a> + </h5> + <div class="fig" style="width:65%;"> + <img src="images/d30473m.jpg" alt="d30473m " width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/d30473.jpg"><i>Original</i></a> + </h5> + <div class="fig" style="width:65%;"> + <img src="images/d30596m.jpg" alt="d30596m " width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/d30596.jpg"><i>Original</i></a> + </h5> + <div class="fig" style="width:65%;"> + <img src="images/d40006m.jpg" alt="d40006m " width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/d40006.jpg"><i>Original</i></a> + </h5> + <div class="fig" style="width:65%;"> + <img src="images/d40104m.jpg" alt="d40104m " width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/d40104.jpg"><i>Original</i></a> + </h5> + <div class="fig" style="width:65%;"> + <img src="images/d40202m.jpg" alt="d40202m " width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/d40202.jpg"><i>Original</i></a> + </h5> + <div class="fig" style="width:65%;"> + <img src="images/d40524m.jpg" alt="d40524m " width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/d40524.jpg"><i>Original</i></a> + </h5> + <div class="fig" style="width:65%;"> + <img src="images/d50006m.jpg" alt="d50006m " width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/d50006.jpg"><i>Original</i></a> + </h5> + <div class="fig" style="width:65%;"> + <img src="images/d50080m.jpg" alt="d50080m " width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/d50080.jpg"><i>Original</i></a> + </h5> + <div class="fig" style="width:65%;"> + <img src="images/d50154m.jpg" alt="d50154m " width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/d50154.jpg"><i>Original</i></a> + </h5> + <div class="fig" style="width:65%;"> + <img src="images/d50252m.jpg" alt="d50252m " width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/d50252.jpg"><i>Original</i></a> + </h5> + <div class="fig" style="width:65%;"> + <img src="images/d50302m.jpg" alt="d50302m " width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/d50302m.jpg"><i>Original</i></a> + </h5> + <div class="fig" style="width:65%;"> + <img src="images/d50400m.jpg" alt="d50400m " width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/d50400m.jpg"><i>Original</i></a> + </h5> + <div class="fig" style="width:65%;"> + <img src="images/d50474m.jpg" alt="d50474m " width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/d50474m.jpg"><i>Original</i></a> + </h5> + <div class="fig" style="width:65%;"> + <img src="images/d50500m.jpg" alt="d50500m " width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/d50500m.jpg"><i>Original</i></a> + </h5> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg’s The Wandering Jew, Complete, by Eugene Sue + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE WANDERING JEW, COMPLETE *** + +***** This file should be named 3350-h.htm or 3350-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.net/3/3/5/3350/ + +Produced by David Widger + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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