The Wandering Jew — Complete
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."
"Oh! there is a counter-poison, then?" said Rodin, mechanically.
"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."
"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."
"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."
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."
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?"
Amazed, in spite of his audacity, the half-caste recoiled a step.
"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."
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."
"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."
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.
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?"
"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."
"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."
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.
"Here is the address," repeated Faringhea, as he held out the card to
Rodin; "assure yourself that I do not lie."
"Eh? what is it?" said the other, casting a rapid but stolen glance at
the address, which he read greedily, without touching the card.
"Take this address," repeated the half-caste, "and you may then assure
yourself--"
"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."
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.
"Lapierre, light the gentleman out," said Rodin, pointing to Faringhea.
Terrified at Rodin's calmness, the half-caste hesitated to leave the
room.
"Why do you wait, sir?" said Rodin, remarking his hesitation. "I wish to
be alone."
"So, sir," said Faringhea, as he withdrew, slowly, "you refuse my
offers? Take care! to-morrow it will be too late."
"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.
Immediately, Father d'Aigrigny entered from the next room. His
countenance was pale and agitated.
"What have you done?" exclaimed he addressing Rodin.
"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."
"I think not," said Rodin, humbly, as bowing, he reassumed his dull and
submissive countenance.
"What will prevent this man from rejoining the prince?"
"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."
"And what was the use of all this, since you have let the man leave the
house?"
"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."
"More violence!" said Father d'Aigrigny, with repugnance.
"It is to be regretted, very much regretted," replied Rodin; "but it was
necessary to follow out the system already adopted."
"Is that meant for a reproach?" said Father d'Aigrigny, who began to
think that Rodin was something more than a mere writing-machine.
"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."
"And afterwards--his complaints?"
"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