The Wandering Jew — Complete
towards the foot. A sort of light, semicircular trellis-work, in gilded
bronze, raised about five feet from the ground, covered with flowering
plants (the admirable passiflores quadrangulatoe, planted in a deep
ebony box, from the centre of which rose the trellis-work), surrounded
this couch with a sort of screen of foliage enamelled with large
flowers, green without, purple within, and as brilliant as those flowers
of porcelain, which we receive from Saxony. A sweet, faint perfume,
like a faint mixture of jasmine with violet, rose from the cup of these
admirable passiflores. Strange enough, a large quantity of new books
(Adrienne having bought them since the last two or three days) and
quite fresh-cut, were scattered around her on the couch, and on a little
table; whilst other larger volumes, amongst which were several atlases
full of engravings, were piled on the sumptuous fur, which formed
the carpet beneath the divan. Stranger still, these books, though of
different forms, and by different authors, alt treated of the same
subject. The posture of Adrienne revealed a sort of melancholy
dejection. Her cheeks were pale; a light blue circle surrounded her
large, black eyes, now half-closed, and gave to them an expression of
profound grief. Many causes contributed to this sorrow--amongst others,
the disappearance of Mother Bunch. Without absolutely believing the
perfidious insinuations of Rodin, who gave her to understand that, in
the fear of being unmasked by him, the hunchback had not dared to remain
in the house, Adrienne felt a cruel sinking of the heart, when she
thought how this young girl, in whom she had had so much confidence, had
fled from her almost sisterly hospitality, without even uttering a word
of gratitude; for care had been taken not to show her the few lines
written by the poor needlewoman to her benefactress, just before her
departure.
She had only been told of the note of five hundred francs found on her
desk; and this last inexplicable circumstance had contributed to awaken
cruel suspicions in the breast of Mdlle. de Cardoville. She already felt
the fatal effects of that mistrust of everything and everybody, which
Rodin had recommended to her; and this sentiment of suspicion and
reserve had the more tendency to become powerful, that, for the first
time in her life, Mdlle. de Cardoville, until then a stranger to all
deception, had a secret to conceal--a secret, which was equally her
happiness, her shame, and her torment. Half-recumbent on her divan,
pensive and depressed, Adrienne pursued, with a mind often absent, one
of her newly purchased books. Suddenly, she uttered an exclamation of
surprise; the hand which held the book trembled like a leaf, and from
that moment she appeared to read with passionate attention and devouring
curiosity. Soon, her eyes sparkled with enthusiasm, her smile
assumed ineffable sweetness, and she seemed at once proud, happy,
delighted--but, as she turned over the last page, her countenance
expressed disappointment and chagrin. Then she recommenced this reading,
which had occasioned her such sweet emotion, and this time she read with
the most deliberate slowness, going over each page twice, and spelling,
as it were, every line, every word. From time to time, she paused,
and in a pensive mood, with her forehead leaning on her fair hand, she
seemed to reflect, in a deep reverie, on the passages she had read with
such tender and religious love. Arriving at a passage which so affected
her, that a tear started in her eye, she suddenly turned the volume,
to see on the cover the name of the author. For a few seconds, she
contemplated this name with a singular expression of gratitude, and
could not forbear raising to her rosy lips the page on which it was
printed. After reading many times over the lines with which she had
been so much struck, forgetting, no doubt, the letter in the spirit, she
began to reflect so deeply, that the book glided from her hand, and
fell upon the carpet. During the course of this reverie, the eyes of the
young girl rested, at first mechanically, upon an admirable bas-relief,
placed on an ebony stand, near one of the windows. This magnificent
bronze, recently cast after a plaster copy from the antique, represented
the triumph of the Indian Bacchus. Never, perhaps, had Grecian art
attained such rare perfection. The youthful conqueror, half clad in a
lion's skin, which displayed his juvenile grace and charming purity
of form shone with divine beauty. Standing up in a car, drawn by two
tigers, with an air at once gentle and proud, he leaned with one hand
upon a thyrsus, and with the other guided his savage steeds in tranquil
majesty. By this rare mixture of grace, vigor, and serenity, it was easy
to recognize the hero who had waged such desperate combats with men and
with monsters of the forest. Thanks to the brownish tone of the figure,
the light, falling from one side of the sculpture, admirably displayed
the form of the youthful god, which, carved in relievo, and thus
illumined, shone like a magnificent statue of pale gold upon the dark
fretted background of the bronze.
When Adrienne's look first rested on this rare assemblage of divine
perfections, her countenance was calm and thoughtful. But this
contemplation, at first mechanical, became gradually more and more
attentive and conscious, and the young lady, rising suddenly from her
seat, slowly approached the bas-relief, as if yielding to the invincible
attraction of an extraordinary resemblance. Then a slight blush appeared
on the cheeks of Mdlle. de Cardoville, stole across her face, and spread
rapidly to her neck and forehead. She approached still closer, threw
round a hasty glance, as if half-ashamed, or as if she had feared to
be surprised in a blamable action, and twice stretched forth her hand,
trembling with emotion, to touch with the tips of her charming fingers
the bronze forehead of the Indian Bacchus. And twice she stopped short,
with a kind of modest hesitation. At last, the temptation became too
strong for her. She yielded to it; and her alabaster finger, after
delicately caressing the features of pale gold, was pressed more boldly
for an instant on the pure and noble brow of the youthful god. At this
pressure, though so slight, Adrienne seemed to feel a sort of electric
shock; she trembled in every limb, her eyes languished, and, after
swimming for an instant in their humid and brilliant crystal, were
raised, half-closed, to heaven. Then her head was thrown a little way
back, her knees bent insensibly, her rosy lips were half opened, as if
to give a passage to her heated breath, for her bosom heaved violently,
as thought youth and life had accelerated the pulsations of her heart,
and made her blood boil in her veins. Finally, the burning cheeks of
Adrienne betrayed a species of ecstasy, timid and passionate, chaste and
sensual, the expression of which was ineffably touching.
An affecting spectacle indeed is that of a young maiden, whose modest
brow flushes with the first fires of a secret passion. Does not the
Creator of all things animate the body as well as the soul, with a
spark of divine energy? Should He not be religiously glorified in the
intellect as in the senses, with which He has so paternally endowed His
creatures? They are impious blasphemers who seek to stifle the celestial
senses, instead of guiding and harmonizing them in their divine flight.
Suddenly, Mdlle. de Cardoville started, raised her head, opened her eyes
as if awakening from a dream, withdrew abruptly from the sculptures,
and walked several times up and down the room in an agitated manner,
pressing her burning hands to her forehead. Then, falling, as it were,
exhausted on her seat, her tears flowed in abundance. The most bitter
grief was visible in her features, which revealed the fatal struggle
that was passing within her. By degrees, her tears ceased. To this
crisis of painful dejection succeeded a species of violent scorn and
indignation against herself, which were expressed by these words that
escaped her: "For the first time in my life, I feel weak and cowardly.
Oh yes! cowardly--very cowardly!"
The sound of a door opening and closing, roused Mdlle. de Cardoville
from her bitter reflections. Georgette entered the room, and said to her
mistress: "Madame, can you receive the Count de Montbron?"
Adrienne, too well-bred to exhibit before her women the sort of
impatience occasioned by this unseasonable visit, said to Georgette:
"You told M. de Montbron that I was at home?"
"Yes, Madame."
"Then beg him to walk in." Though Mdlle. de Cardoville felt at that
moment much vexed at the arrival of Montbron, let us hasten to say,
that she entertained for him an almost filial affection, and a profound
esteem, though, by a not unfrequent contrast, she almost always differed
from him in opinion. Hence arose, when Mdlle. de Cardoville had nothing
to disturb her mind, the most gay and animated discussions, in which M.
de Montbron, notwithstanding his mocking and sceptical humor, his
long experience, his rare knowledge of men and things, his fashionable
training, in a word, had not always the advantage, and even acknowledged
his defeat gayly enough. Thus, to give an idea of the differences of
the count and Adrienne, before, as he would say laughingly, he had made
himself her accomplice, he had always opposed (from other motives than
those alleged by Madame de Saint-Dizier) Adrienne's wish to live alone
and in her own way; whilst Rodin, on the contrary, by investing
the young girl's resolve on this subject with an ideal grandeur of
intention, had acquired a species of influence over her. M. de Montbron,
now upwards of sixty years of age, had been a most prominent character
during the Directory, Consulate, and the Empire. His prodigal style of
living, his wit, his gayety, his duels, his amours, and his losses at
play, had given him a leading influence in the best society of his day;
while his character, his kind-heartedness, and liberality, secured him
the lasting friendship of nearly all his female friends. At the time
we now present him to the reader, he was still a great gambler; and,
moreover, a very lucky gambler. He had, as we have stated, a very lordly
style; his manners were decided, but polished and lively; his habits
were such as belong to the higher classes of society, though he could be
excessively sharp towards people whom he did not like. He was tall and
thin, and his slim figure gave him an almost youthful appearance; his
forehead was high, and a little bald; his hair was gray and short, his
countenance long, his nose aquiline, his eyes blue and piercing, and his
teeth white, and still very good.
"The Count de Montbron," said Georgette, opening the door. The count
entered, and hastened to kiss Adrienne's hand, with a sort of paternal
familiarity.
"Come!" said M. de Montbron to himself; "let us try to discover the
truth I am in search of, that we may escape a great misfortune."
CHAPTER VIII. THE CONFESSION.
Mdlle. de Cardoville, not wishing to betray the cause of the violent
feelings which agitated her, received M. de Montbron with a feigned and
forced gayety. On the other hand, notwithstanding his tact and knowledge
of the world, the count was much embarrassed how to enter upon the
subject on which he wished to confer with Adrienne, and he resolved
to feel his way, before seriously commencing the conversation. After
looking at the young lady for some seconds, M. de Montbron shook
his head, and said, with a sigh of regret: "My dear child, I am not
pleased."
"Some affair of the heart, or of hearts, my dear count?" returned
Adrienne, smiling.
"Of the heart," said M. de Montbron.
"What! you, so great a player, think more of a woman's whim than a throw