The Wandering Jew — Complete
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.
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.
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.
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!
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.
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.
"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."
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