The Wandering Jew — Complete
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this, and superseded him by a wealthy successor, with whom they could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."
(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.
CHAPTER XV. THE THUG.
After a moment's silence, Father d'Aigrigny resumed "Read me to-day's
report on the situation of each of the persons designated."
"Here is that of this evening; it has just come."
"Let us hear."
Rodin read as follows: "Jacques Rennepont, alias Sleepinbuff, was seen
in the interior of the debtors' prison at eight o'clock this evening."
"He will not disturb us to-morrow. One; go on."
"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."
"Thanks to these precautions, there is nothing to fear from that side,"
said Father d'Aigrigny. "Go on."
"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."
"That is still another cause the less for uneasiness."
"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."
"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."
"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:
"TOULOUSE, February the 10th.
"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.
"FRANCIS HARDY."
"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."
"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?"
"None," answered Rodin. "His letter of yesterday is completely
satisfactory."
"There is nothing, then, to fear from the Indian prince," said
D'Aigrigny. "All goes well."
"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."
"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."
Two cautious knocks at the door interrupted Father d'Aigrigny. "Come
in," said he.
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."
"His name?" asked Father d'Aigrigny.
"He would not tell his name; but he says that he comes from M. Van Dael,
a merchant in Java."
Father d'Aigrigny and Rodin exchanged a glance of surprise, almost of
alarm.
"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.
A minute after, Faringhea, the ex-chief of the Stranglers, appeared
before Rodin, who instantly remembered having seen him at Cardoville
Castle.
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.
"Sir," said the servant, astonished at the silence of Rodin, "here is
the person."
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."
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?"
CHAPTER XVI. THE TWO BROTHERS OF THE GOOD WORK.
Faringhea, 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.
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?"
"Do you not recognize me," said Faringhea, advancing two steps nearer to
Rodin's chair.
"I do not think I have ever had the honor of seeing you," answered the
other, coldly.
"But I recognize you," said Faringhea; "I saw you at Cardoville Castle
the day that a ship and a steamer were wrecked together."