The Wandering Jew — Complete
The roaring of the animals and the shouts of Dagobert, had roused from
sleep every one in the White Falcon. Here and there lights were seen
moving and windows were thrown open hurriedly. The servants of the
inn soon appeared in the yard with lanterns, and surrounding Dagobert,
inquired of him what had happened.
"My horse is there," cried the soldier, continuing to shake the door,
"and one of that scoundrel's animals has escaped from its cage."
At these words the people of the inn, already terrified by the frightful
roaring, fled from the spot and ran to inform the host. The soldier's
anguish may be conceived, as pale, breathless, with his ear close to
the chink of the door, he stood listening. By degrees the roaring had
ceased, and nothing was heard but low growls, accompanied by the stern
voice of the Prophet, repeating in harsh, abrupt accents: "Death! come
here! Death!"
The night was profoundly dark, and Dagobert did not perceive Goliath,
who, crawling carefully along the tiled roof entered the loft by the
attic window.
And now the gate of the court-yard was again opened, and the landlord of
the inn appeared, followed by a number of men. Armed with a carbine, he
advanced with precaution; his people carried staves and pitchforks.
"What is the row here?" said he, as he approached Dagobert. "What a
hubbub in my house! The devil take wild beast showmen, and negligent
fellows who don't know how to tie a horse to the manger! If your beast
is hurt, so much the worse for you; you should have taken more care of
it."
Instead of replying to these reproaches, the soldier, who still listened
attentively to what was going on in the shed, made a sign to entreat
silence. Suddenly a ferocious roar was heard, followed by a loud scream
from the Prophet; and, almost immediately after, the panther howled
piteously.
"You are no doubt the cause of some great accident," said the frightened
host to the soldier; "did you not hear that cry? Morok is, perhaps,
dangerously wounded."
Dagobert was about to answer, when the door opened, and Goliath appeared
on the threshold.
"You may enter now," said he; "the danger is over."
The interior of the menagerie presented a singular spectacle. The
Prophet, pale, and scarcely able to conceal his agitation beneath an
apparent air of calmness, was kneeling some paces from the cage of the
panther, in the attitude of one absorbed in himself; the motion of his
lips indicating that he was praying. At sight of the host and the people
of the inn, he rose, and said in a solemn voice: "I thank thee, my
Preserver, that I have been able to conquer, by the strength which Thou
hast given me."
Then folding his arms, with haughty brow and imperious glance, he seemed
to enjoy the triumph he had achieved over Death, who, stretched on the
bottom of her den, continued to utter plaintive howlings. The spectators
of this scene, ignorant that the pelisse of the brute-tamer covered a
complete suit of armor, and attributing the cries of the panther solely
to fear, were struck with astonishment and admiration at the intrepidity
and almost supernatural power of this man. A few steps behind him stood
Goliath, leaning upon the ashen pikestaff. Finally, not far from the
cage, in the midst of a pool of blood, lay the dead body of Jovial.
At sight of the blood-stained and torn remains, Dagobert stood
motionless, and his rough countenance assumed an expression of the
deepest grief: then, throwing himself on his knees, he lifted the head
of Jovial; and when he saw those dull, glassy, and half-closed eyes,
once so bright and intelligent, as they turned towards a much-loved
master, the soldier could not suppress an exclamation of bitter anguish.
Forgetting his anger, forgetting the deplorable consequences of this
accident, so fatal to the interests of the two maidens, who would thus
be prevented from continuing their journey--he thought only of the
horrible death of his poor old horse, the ancient companion of his
fatigues and wars, the faithful animal, twice wounded like himself, and
from whom for so many years he had never been separated. This poignant
emotion was so cruelly, so affectingly visible in the soldier's
countenance, that the landlord and his people felt themselves for a
moment touched with pity, as they gazed on the tall veteran kneeling
beside his dead horse.
But, when following the course of his regrets, he thought how Jovial had
also been the companion of his exile, how the mother of the orphans had
formerly (like her daughters) undertaken a toilsome journey with the aid
of this unfortunate animal, the fatal consequences of his loss presented
themselves on a sudden to his mind. Then, fury succeeding to grief,
he rose, with anger flashing from his eyes, and threw himself on the
Prophet; with one hand he seized him by the throat, and with the other
administered five or six heavy blows, which fell harmlessly on the coat
of mail.
"Rascal! you shall answer to me for my horse's death!" said the soldier,
as he continued his correction. Morok, light and sinewy, could not
struggle with advantage against Dagobert, who, aided by his tall
stature, still displayed extraordinary vigor. It needed the intervention
of Goliath and the landlord to rescue the Prophet from the hands of the
old grenadier. After some moments, they succeeded in separating the two
champions. Morok was white with rage. It needed new efforts to prevent
his seizing the pike to attack Dagobert.
"It is abominable!" cried the host, addressing the soldier, who pressed
his clinched fists in despair against his bald forehead. "You expose
this good man to be devoured by his beasts, and then you wish to beat
him into the bargain. Is this fitting conduct for a graybeard? Shall
we have to fetch the police? You showed yourself more reasonable in the
early part of the evening."
These words recalled the soldier to himself. He regretted his
impetuosity the more, as the fact of his being a stranger might augment
the difficulty of his position. It was necessary above all to obtain
the price of his horse, so as to be enabled to continue his journey, the
success of which might be compromised by a single day's delay. With a
violent effort, therefore, he succeeded in restraining his wrath.
"You are right--I was too hasty," said he to the host, in an agitated
voice, which he tried to make as calm as possible. "I had not the same
patience as before. But ought not this man be responsible for the loss
of my horse? I make you judge in the matter."
"Well, then, as judge, I am not of your opinion. All this has been your
own fault. You tied up your horse badly, and he strayed by chance into
this shed, of which no doubt the door was half-open," said the host,
evidently taking the part of the brute-tamer.
"It was just as you say," answered Goliath. "I can remember it. I left
the door ajar, that the beasts might have some air in the night. The
cages were well shut, and there was no danger."
"Very true," said one of the standers-by.
"It was only the sight of the horse," added another, "that made the
panther furious, so as to break out of its cage."
"It is the Prophet who has the most right to complain," observed a
third.
"No matter what this or that person says," returned Dagobert, whose
patience was beginning to fail him, "I say, that I must have either
money or a horse on the instant--yes, on the instant--for I wish to quit
this unlucky house."
"And I say, it is you that must indemnify me," cried Morok, who had kept
this stage-trick for the last, and who now exhibited his left hand all
bloody, having hitherto concealed it beneath the sleeve of his pelisse.
"I shall perhaps be disabled for life," he added; "see what a wound the
panther has made here!"
Without having the serious character that the Prophet ascribed to it,
the wound was a pretty deep one. This last argument gained for him the
general sympathy. Reckoning no doubt upon this incident, to secure the
winning of a cause that he now regarded as his own, the host said to the
hostler: "There is only one way to make a finish. It is to call up the
burgomaster, and beg him to step here. He will decide who is right or
wrong."
"I was just going to propose it to you," said the soldier, "for, after
all, I cannot take the law into my own hands."
"Fritz, run to the burgomaster's!"--and the hustler started in all
haste. His master, fearing to be compromised by the examination of the
soldier, whose papers he had neglected to ask for on his arrival, said
to him: "The burgomaster will be in a very bad humor, to be disturbed so
late. I have no wish to suffer by it, and I must therefore beg you to
go and fetch me your papers, to see if they are in rule. I ought to have
made you show them, when you arrived here in the evening."
"They are upstairs in my knapsack; you shall have them," answered the
soldier--and turning away his head, and putting his hand before his
eyes, as he passed the dead body of Jovial, he went out to rejoin the
sisters.
The Prophet followed him with a glance of triumph, and said to himself:
"There he goes!--without horse, without money, without papers. I could
not do more--for I was forbidden to do more--I was to act with as much
cunning as possible and preserve appearances. Now every one will think
this soldier in the wrong. I can at least answer for it, that he will
not continue his journey for some days--since such great interests
appear to depend on his arrest, and that of the young girls."
A quarter of an hour after this reflection of the brute-tamer, Karl,
Goliath's comrade, left the hiding-place where his master had concealed
him during the evening, and set out for Leipsic, with a letter which
Morok had written in haste, and which Karl, on his arrival, was to put
immediately into the post.
The address of this letter was as follows:
"A Monsieur Rodin, Rue du Milieu-des-Ursins, No, 11, A Paris, France."
CHAPTER XII. THE BURGOMASTER.
Dagobert's anxiety increased every moment. Certain that his horse had
not entered the shed of its own accord, he attributed the event which
had taken place to the spite of the brute-tamer; but he sought in vain
for the motive of this wretch's animosity, and he reflected with dismay,
that his cause, however just, would depend on the good or bad humor of
a judge dragged from his slumbers and who might be ready to condemn upon
fallacious appearances.
Fully determined to conceal, as long as possible, from the orphans the
fresh misfortunes, which had befallen them, he was proceeding to open
the door of their chamber, when he stumbled over Spoil-sport--for the
dog had run back to his post, after vainly trying to prevent the Prophet
from leading away Jovial. "Luckily the dog has returned; the poor little
things have been well guarded," said the soldier, as he opened the door.
To his great surprise, the room was in utter darkness.
"My children," cried he, "why are you without a light?" There was no
answer. In terror he groped his way to the bed, and took the hand of one
of the sisters; the hand was cold as ice.
"Rose, my children!" cried he. "Blanche! Give me some answer! you
frighten me." Still the same silence continued; the hand which he held
remained cold and powerless, and yielded passively to his touch.
Just then, the moon emerged from the black clouds that surrounded her,
and threw sufficient light into the little room, and upon the bed,
which faced the window, for the soldier to see that the two sisters
had fainted. The bluish light of the moon added to the paleness of the
orphans; they held each other in a half embrace, and Rose had buried her
head on Blanche's bosom.
"They must have fainted through fear," exclaimed Dagobert, running to