The Wandering Jew — Complete
"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?"
"What do you say? what have I guessed?" replied Mdlle. de Cardoville,
involuntarily impressed by the other's tone of conviction and alarm.
"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.
On seeing the alarmed countenance of her waiting-maid, Mdlle. de
Cardoville said hastily: "Well, Florine! what news? Whence come you, my
child?"
"From Saint-Dizier House, madame."
"And why did you go there?" asked Mdlle. de Cardoville, with surprise.
"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."
"True," said Adrienne, more and more uneasy. "Well?"
"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."
"What next, Florine, what next?"
"I endeavored to get Mrs. Grivois to talk of M. Rodin; but it was in
vain."
"She suspected you," said the workgirl. "It was to be anticipated."
"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."
"Madame, you hear," cried Mother Bunch, clasping her hands with a
supplicating air; "such evidence should convince you."
"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."
"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.'
"The prince's!" exclaimed Mdlle. de Cardoville.
"Yes, madame."
"Yes, M. Rodin was to see him to-day," said Adrienne, reflecting.
"No doubt he betrays you, madame, and the prince also; the latter will
be made his victim more easily than you."
"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."
"Oh, madame! is it not dreadful?" said Mother Bunch, shuddering.
"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!"
"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."
"What do you mean?" said Adrienne, looking at Florine with surprise.
"M. Rodin will soon be alone with the prince," said Florine.
"No doubt," replied Adrienne.
"The prince always sits in a little room that opens upon a greenhouse.
It is there that he will receive M. Rodin."
"What then?" resumed Adrienne.
"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."
"What do you mean? what is your project?" said Adrienne, looking at
Florine with growing surprise.
"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."
"What say you?" cried Mdlle. de Cardoville.
"Set out instantly with me; we reach the side door; I enter alone, for
precaution sake--if all is right, I return--"
"You would have me turn spy?" said Mdlle. de Cardoville, haughtily,
interrupting Florine. "You cannot think it.
"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."
"Stoop to listen to a conversation--never!" replied Adrienne.
"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--"
"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!"
Then, turning to Florine, she added, "Tell M. de Bonneville to have the
carriage got ready on the instant."
"You consent, then!" cried Florine, clasping her hands, and not seeking
to conceal her joy; and her eyes also became full of tears.
"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.
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.
CHAPTER XLIII. THE LETTER.
Some 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