The Wandering Jew — Complete
"One is on the ground floor, the last on the garden-side; the other is
exactly over it, on the first story."
"Then they are saved!" cried the smith.
"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."
"They will be as good as a ladder, to reach the upstairs window. But now
to think of you madame."
"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."
"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."
"What do you mean?"
"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."
"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."
"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."
"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."
"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."
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.
"We are saved," whispered Agricola. "Those are the windows of the poor
children--one on the ground floor, the other on the first story."
"At last!" said Dagobert, with a burst of joy impossible to describe. He
ran to examine the windows. "They are not grated!" he exclaimed.
"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."
"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!"
"And then we will deliver Mdlle. de Cardoville."
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."
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!"
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!"
BOOK V.
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
CHAPTER XIV. THE EVE OF A GREAT DAY.
About 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)
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.
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.
"Has anything new occurred during my absence?" asked he. "Are the
reports still favorable?"
"Very favorable."
"Read them to me."
"Before giving this account to your reverence," said Rodin, "I must
inform you that Morok has been two days in Paris."
"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."
"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."
"How so?"
"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."
"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."
"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."
"Impossible--impossible--you know how much I am occupied. Have you sent
to the Rue Saint-Francois?"
"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."
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."
The secretary took the note from the case, and read as follows:
"'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.
"'We have just discovered, by the confession of a dying person to one of
our fathers, a very close secret.
"'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.
"'From these preliminaries, we come to the great secret, which is of
such importance to the future interests of our Society.
"'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.
"'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.
"'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