The Wandering Jew — Complete
"May I be eaten by the black panther that they are showing at the Porte
Saint-Martin if I do not tell you the truth. And, talking of that,
you must get tickets to take me to see those animals, my little Ninny
Moulin! They tell me there never were such darling wild beasts."
"Now really, are you mad?"
"Why so?"
"That I should guide your youth, like a venerable patriarch, through the
dangers of the Storm-blown Tulip, all well and good--I ran no risk
of meeting my pastors and masters; but were I to take you to a Lent
Spectacle (since there are only beasts to be seen), I might just run
against my sacristans--and how pretty I should look with you on my arm!"
"You can put on a false nose, and straps to your trousers, my big Ninny;
they will never know you."
"We must not think of false noses, but of what I have to tell you, since
you assure me that you have no intrigue in hand."
"I swear it!" said Rose-Pompon, solemnly, extending her left hand
horizontally, whilst with her right she put a nut into her mouth. Then
she added, with surprise, as she looked at the outside coat of Ninny
Moulin, "Goodness gracious! what full pockets you have got! What is
there in them?"
"Something that concerns you, Rose-Pompon," said Dumoulin, gravely.
"Me?"
"Rose-Pompon!" said Ninny Moulin, suddenly, with a majestic air; "will
you have a carriage? Will you inhabit a charming apartment, instead of
living in this dreadful hole? Will you be dressed like a duchess?"
"Now for some more nonsense! Come, will you eat the olives? If not, I
shall eat them all up. There is only one left."
Without answering this gastronomic offer, Ninny Moulin felt in one of
his pockets, and drew from it a case containing a very pretty bracelet,
which he held up sparkling before the eyes of the young girl.
"Oh! what a sumptuous bracelet!" cried she, clapping her hands. "A
green-eyed serpent biting his tail--the emblem of my love for Philemon."
"Do not talk of Philemon; it annoys me," said Ninny Moulin, as he
clasped the bracelet round the wrist of Rose-Pompon, who allowed him to
do it, laughing all the while like mad, and saying to him, "So you've
been employed to make a purchase, big apostle, and wish to see the
effect of it. Well! it is charming!"
"Rose-Pompon," resumed Ninny Moulin, "would you like to have a servant,
a box at the Opera, and a thousand francs a month for your pin-money?"
"Always the same nonsense. Get along!" said the young girl, as she held
up the bracelet to the light, still continuing to eat her nuts. "Why
always the same farce, and no change of bills?"
Ninny Moulin again plunged his hand into his pocket, and this time drew
forth an elegant chain, which he hung round Rose-Pompon's neck.
"Oh! what a beautiful chain!" cried the young girl, as she looked by
turns at the sparkling ornament and the religious writer. "If you chose
that also, you have a very good taste. But am I not a good natured girl
to be your dummy, just to show off your jewels?"
"Rose-Pompon," returned Ninny Moulin, with a still more majestic air,
"these trifles are nothing to what you may obtain, if you will but
follow the advice of your old friend."
Rose began to look at Dumoulin with surprise, and said to him, "What
does all this mean, Ninny Moulin? Explain yourself; what advice have you
to give?"
Dumoulin did not answer, but replunging his hand into his inexhaustible
pocket, he fished up a parcel, which he carefully unfolded, and in which
was a magnificent mantilla of black lace. Rose-Pompon started up, full
of new admiration, and Dumoulin threw the rich mantilla over the young
girl's shoulders.
"It is superb! I have never seen anything like it! What patterns! what
work!" said Rose-Pompon, as she examined all with simple and perfectly
disinterested curiosity. Then she added, "Your pocket is like a shop;
where did you get all these pretty things?" Then, bursting into a fit of
laughter, which brought the blood to her cheeks, she exclaimed, "Oh, I
have it! These are the wedding-presents for Madame de la Sainte-Colombe.
I congratulate you; they are very choice."
"And where do you suppose I should find money to buy these wonders?"
said Ninny Moulin. "I repeat to you, all this is yours if you will but
listen to me!"
"How is this?" said Rose-Pompon, with the utmost amazement; "is what you
tell me in downright earnest?"
"In downright earnest."
"This offer to make me a great lady?"
"The jewels might convince you of the reality of my offers."
"And you propose all this to me for some one else, my poor Ninny
Moulin?"
"One moment," said the religious writer, with a comical air of modesty,
"you must know me well enough, my beloved pupil, to feel certain that
I should be incapable of inducing you to commit an improper action. I
respect myself too much for that--leaving out the consideration that it
would be unfair to Philemon, who confided to me the guardianship of your
virtue."
"Then, Ninny Moulin," said Rose-Pompon, more and more astonished, "on my
word of honor, I can make nothing of it.
"Yet, 'tis all very simple, and I--"
"Oh! I've found it," cried Rose-Pompon, interrupting Ninny Moulin; "it
is some gentleman who offers me his hand, his heart, and all the rest of
it. Could you not tell me that directly?"
"A marriage? oh, laws, yes!" said Dumoulin, shrugging his shoulders.
"What! is it not a marriage?" said Rose-Pompon, again much surprised.
"No."
"And the offers you make me are honest ones, my big apostle?"
"They could not be more so." Here Dumoulin spoke the truth.
"I shall not have to be unfaithful to Philemon?"
"No."
"Or faithful to any one else?"
"No."
Rose-Pompon looked confounded. Then she rattled on: "Come, do not let
us have any joking! I am not foolish enough to imagine that I am to live
just like a duchess, just for nothing. What, therefore, must I give in
return?"
"Nothing at all."
"Nothing?"
"Not even that," said Ninny Moulin, biting his nail-tip.
"But what am I to do, then?"
"Dress yourself as handsomely as possible, take your ease, amuse
yourself, ride about in a carriage. You see, it is not very
fatiguing--and you will, moreover, help to do a good action."
"What! by living like a duchess?"
"Yes! so make up your mind. Do not ask me for any more details, for I
cannot give them to you. For the rest, you will not be detained against
your will. Just try the life I propose to you. If it suits you, go on
with it; if not, return to your Philemonic household."
"In fact--"
"Only try it. What can you risk?"
"Nothing; but I can hardly believe that all you say is true. And then,"
added she, with hesitation, "I do not know if I ought--"
Ninny Moulin went to the window, opened it, and said to Rose-Pompon, who
ran up to it, "Look there! before the door of the house."
"What a pretty carriage! How comfortable a body'd be inside of it!"
"That carriage is yours. It is waiting for you."
"Waiting for me!" exclaimed Rose-Pompon; "am I to decide as short as
that?"
"Or not at all."
"To-day?"
"On the instant."
"But where will they take me?"
"How should I know?"
"You do not know where they will take me?"
"Not I,"--and Dumoulin still spoke the truth--"the coachman has his
orders."
"Do you know all this is very funny, Ninny Moulin?"
"I believe you. If it were not funny, where would be the pleasure?"
"You are right."
"Then you accept the offer? That is well. I am delighted both for you
and myself."
"For yourself?"
"Yes; because, in accepting, you render me a great service."
"You? How so?"
"It matters little, as long as I feel obliged to you."
"True."
"Come, then; let us set out!"
"Bah! after all, they cannot eat me," said Rose-Pompon, resolutely.
With a skip and a jump, she went to fetch a rose-colored cap, and, going
up to a broken looking-glass, placed the cap very much cocked on one
side on her bands of light hair. This left uncovered her snowy neck,
with the silky roots of the hair behind, and gave to her pretty face a
very mischievous, not to say licentious expression.
"My cloak!" said she to Ninny Moulin, who seemed to be relieved from a
considerable amount of uneasiness, since she had accepted his offer.
"Fie! a cloak will not do," answered her companion, feeling once more
in his pocket and drawing out a fine Cashmere shawl, which he threw over
Rose-Pompon's shoulders.
"A Cashmere!" cried the young girl, trembling with pleasure and joyous
surprise. Then she added, with an air of heroism: "It is settled! I
will run the gauntlet." And with a light step she descended the stairs,
followed by Ninny Moulin.
The worthy greengrocer was at her post. "Good-morning, mademoiselle; you
are early to-day," said she to the young girl.
"Yes, Mother Arsene; there is my key."
"Thank you, mademoiselle."
"Oh! now I think of it," said Rose Pompon, suddenly, in a whisper, as
she turned towards Ninny Moulin, and withdrew further from the portress,
"what is to became of Philemon?"
"Philemon?"
"If he should arrive--"
"Oh! the devil!" said Ninny Moulin, scratching his ear.
"Yes; if Philemon should arrive, what will they say to him? for I may be
a long time absent."
"Three or four months, I suppose."
"Not more?"
"I should think not."
"Oh! very good!" said Rose-Pompon. Then, turning towards the
greengrocer, she said to her, after a moment's reflection: "Mother
Arsene, if Philemon should come home, you will tell him I have gone
out--on business."
"Yes, mademoiselle."
"And that he must not forget to feed my pigeons, which are in his
study."
"Yes, mademoiselle."
"Good-bye, Mother Arsene."
"Good-bye, mademoiselle." And Rose-Pompon entered the carriage in
triumph, along with Ninny Moulin.
"The devil take me if I know what is to come of all this," said Jacques
Dumoulin to himself, as the carriage drove rapidly down the Rue Clovis.
"I have repaired my error--and now I laugh at the rest."
CHAPTER VII. ANOTHER SECRET.
The following scene took place a few days after the abduction of Rose
Pompon by Ninny Moulin. Mdlle. de Cardoville was seated in a dreamy
mood, in her cabinet, which was hung with green silk, and furnished
with an ebony library, ornamented with large bronze caryatides. By some
significant signs, one could perceive that Mdlle. de Cardoville had
sought in the fine airs some relief from sad and serious thoughts.
Near an open piano, was a harp, placed before a music-stand. A little
further, on a table covered with boxes of oil and water-color, were
several brilliant sketches. Most of them represented Asiatic scenes,
lighted by the fires of an oriental sun. Faithful to her fancy of
dressing herself at home in a picturesque style, Mademoiselle de
Cardoville resembled that day one of those proud portraits of Velasquez,
with stern and noble aspect. Her gown was of black moire, with wide
swelling petticoat, long waist, and sleeve slashed with rose-colored
satin, fastened together with jet bugles. A very stiff, Spanish ruff
reached almost to her chin, and was secured round her neck by a broad
rose-colored ribbon. This frill, slightly heaving, sloped down as far as
the graceful swell of the rose-colored stomacher, laced with strings of
jet beads, and terminating in a point at the waist. It is impossible to
express how well this black garment, with its ample and shining folds,
relieved with rose-color and brilliant jet, skin, harmonized with the
shining whiteness of Adrienne's and the golden flood of her beautiful
hair, whose long, silky ringlets descended to her bosom.
The young lady was in a half-recumbent posture, with her elbow resting
on a couch covered with green silk. The back of this piece of furniture,
which was pretty high towards the fireplace, sloped down insensibly