The Wandering Jew — Complete
fetch his gourd. "Poor things! after a day of so much excitement, it is
not surprising." And moistening the corner of a handkerchief with a few
drops of brandy, the soldier knelt beside the bed, gently chafed the
temples of the two sisters, and held the linen, wet with the spirituous
liquor, to their little pink nostrils.
Still on his knees, and bending his dark, anxious face over the orphans,
he waited some moments before again resorting to the only restorative in
his power. A slight shiver of Rose gave him renewed hope; the young girl
turned her head on the pillow with a sigh; then she started, and
opened her eyes with an expression of astonishment and alarm; but, not
immediately recognizing Dagobert, she exclaimed: "Oh, sister!" and threw
herself into the arms of Blanche.
The latter also was beginning to experience the effect of the soldier's
care. The exclamation of Rose completely roused her from her lethargy,
and she clung to her sister, again sharing the fright without knowing
its cause.
"They've come to--that's the chief point," said Dagobert, "now we shall
soon get rid of these foolish fears." Then softening his voice, he
added: "Well, my children, courage? You are better. It is I who am
here--me, Dagobert!"
The orphans made a hasty movement, and, turning towards the soldier
their sweet faces, which were still full of dismay and agitation, they
both, by a graceful impulse, extended their arms to him and cried: "It
is you, Dagobert--then we are safe!"
"Yes, my children, it is I," said the veteran, taking their hands in
his, and pressing them joyfully. "So you have been much frightened
during my absence?"
"Oh, frightened to death!"
"If you knew--oh, goodness! if you knew--"
"But the lamp is extinguished--why is that?"
"We did not do it."
"Come--recover yourselves, poor children, and tell me all about it. I
have no good opinion of this inn; but, luckily, we shall soon leave it.
It was an ill wind that blew me hither--though, to be sure, there was no
other in the village. But what has happened?"
"You were hardly gone, when the window flew open violently, and the lamp
and table fell together with a loud crash."
"Then our courage failed--we screamed and clasped each other, for we
thought we could hear some one moving in the room."
"And we were so frightened, that we fainted away."
Unfortunately, persuaded that it was the violence of the wind which had
already broken the glass, and shaken the window, Dagobert attributed
this second accident to the same cause as the first, thinking that he
had not properly secured the fastening and that the orphans had been
deceived by a false alarm. "Well, well--it is over now," said he to
them: "Calm yourselves, and don't think of it any more."
"But why did you leave us so hastily, Dagobert?"
"Yes, now I remember--did we not hear a great noise, sister, and see
Dagobert run to the staircase, crying: 'My horse! what are they doing to
my horse?'"
"It was then Jovial who neighed?"
These questions renewed the anguish of the soldier; he feared to answer
them, and said, with a confused air: "Yes--Jovial neighed--but it was
nothing. By the by, we must have a light here. Do you know where I put
my flint and steel last evening? Well, I have lost my senses; it is here
in my pocket. Luckily, too, we have a candle, which I am going to light;
I want to look in my knapsack for some papers I require."
Dagobert struck a few sparks, obtained a light, and saw that the window
was indeed open, the table thrown down, and the lamp lying by the side
of the knapsack. He shut the window, set the little table on its feet
again, placed the knapsack upon it, and began to unbuckle this last in
order to take out his portfolio, which had been deposited along with his
cross and purse, in a kind of pocket between the outside and the lining.
The straps had been readjusted with so much care, that there was no
appearance of the knapsack having been disturbed; but when the soldier
plunged his hand into the pocket above-mentioned, he found it empty.
Struck with consternation, he grew pale, and retreated a step, crying:
"How is this?--Nothing!"
"What is the matter?" said Blanche. He made her no answer. Motionless,
he leaned against the table, with his hand still buried in the pocket.
Then, yielding to a vague hope--for so cruel a reality did not appear
possible--he hastily emptied the contents of the knapsack on the
table--his poor half-worn clothes--his old uniform-coat of the
horse-grenadiers of the Imperial Guard, a sacred relic for the
soldiers--but, turn and return them as he would, he found neither his
purse, nor the portfolio that contained his papers, the letters of
General Simon, and his cross.
In vain, with that serious childishness which always accompanies a
hopeless search, he took the knapsack by the two ends, and shook it
vigorously; nothing came out. The orphans looked on with uneasiness, not
understanding his silence or his movements, for his back was turned
to them. Blanche ventured to say to him in a timid voice: "What ails
you--you don't answer us.--What is it you are looking for in your
knapsack?"
Still mute, Dagobert searched his own person, turned out all his
pockets--nothing!--For the first time in his life, perhaps, his two
children, as he called them, had spoken to him without receiving a
reply. Blanche and Rose felt the big tears start into their eyes;
thinking that the soldier was angry, they darst not again address him.
"No, no! it is impossible--no!" said the veteran, pressing his hand to
his forehead, and seeking in his memory where he might have put those
precious objects, the loss of which he could not yet bring himself to
believe. A sudden beam of joy flashed from his eyes. He ran to a chair,
and took from it the portmanteau of the orphans; it contained a little
linen, two black dresses, and a small box of white wood, in which were
a silk handkerchief that had belonged to their mother, two locks of her
hair, and a black ribbon she had worn round her neck. The little she
possessed had been seized by the Russian government, in pursuance of
the confiscation. Dagobert searched and researched every article--peeped
into all the corners of the portmanteau--still nothing!
This time, completely worn out, leaning against the table, the strong,
energetic man felt himself giving way. His face was burning, yet bathed
in a cold sweat; his knees trembled under him. It is a common saying,
that drowning men will catch at straws; and so it is with the
despair that still clings to some shred of hope. Catching at a last
chance--absurd, insane, impossible--he turned abruptly towards the
orphans, and said to them, without considering the alteration in
his voice and features: "I did not give them to you--to keep for
me?--speak?"
Instead of answering, Rose and Blanche, terrified at his paleness and
the expression of his countenance, uttered a cry. "Good heavens! what is
the matter with you?" murmured Rose.
"Have you got them--yes, or no?" cried in a voice of thunder the
unfortunate, distracted man. "If you have not--I'll take the first knife
I meet with, and stick it into my body!"
"Alas! You are so good: pardon us if we have done anything to afflict
you! You love us so much, you would not do us any harm." The orphans
began to weep, as they stretched forth their hands in supplication
towards the soldier.
He looked at them with haggard eye, without even seeing them; till, as
the delusion passed away, the reality presented itself to his mind with
all its terrible consequences. Then he clasped his hands together, fell
on his knees before the bed of the orphans, leaned his forehead upon
it, and amid his convulsive sobs--for the man of iron sobbed like a
child--these broken words were audible: "Forgive me--forgive!--I do not
know how it can be!--Oh! what a misfortune!--what a misfortune!--Forgive
me!"
At this outbreak of grief, the cause of which they understood not, but
which in such a man was heart-rending, the two sisters wound their arms
about his old gray head, and exclaimed amid their tears: "Look at us!
Only tell us what is the matter with you?--Is it our fault?"
At this instant, the noise of footsteps resounded from the stairs,
mingled with the barking of Spoil-sport, who had remained outside the
door. The nearer the steps approached, the more furious became the
barking; it was no doubt accompanied with hostile demonstrations, for
the host was heard to cry out in an angry tone: "Hollo! you there! Call
off your dog, or speak to him. It is Mr. Burgomaster who is coming up."
"Dagobert--do you hear?--it is the burgomaster," said Rose.
"They are coming upstairs--a number of people," resumed Blanche.
The word burgomaster recalled whatever had happened to the mind of
Dagobert, and completed, so to express it, the picture of his terrible
position. His horse was dead, he had neither papers nor money, and
a day, a single day's detention, might defeat the last hope of the
sisters, and render useless this long and toilsome journey.
Men of strong minds, and the veteran was of the number, prefer great
perils, positions of danger accurately defined, to the vague anxieties
which precede a settled misfortune. Guided by his good sense and
admirable devotion, Dagobert understood at once, that his only resource
was now in the justice of the burgomaster, and that all his efforts
should tend to conciliate the favor of that magistrate. He therefore
dried his eyes with the sheet, rose from the ground, erect, calm, and
resolute, and said to the orphans: "Fear nothing, my children; it is our
deliverer who is at hand."
"Will you call off your dog or no?" cried the host, still detained on
the stairs by Spoil-sport, who, as a vigilant sentinel, continued to
dispute the passage. "Is the animal mad, I say? Why don't you tie him
up? Have you not caused trouble enough in my house? I tell you, that Mr.
Burgomaster is waiting to examine you in your turn, for he has finished
with Morok."
Dagobert drew his fingers through his gray locks and across his
moustache, clasped the collar of his top-coat, and brushed the sleeves
with his hand, in order to give himself the best appearance possible;
for he felt that the fate of the orphans must depend on his interview
with the magistrate. It was not without a violent beating of the heart,
that he laid his hand upon the door-knob, saying to the young girls, who
were growing more and more frightened by such a succession of events:
"Hide yourselves in your bed, my children; if any one must needs enter,
it shall be the burgomaster alone."
Thereupon, opening the door, the soldier stepped out on the landing
place, and said: "Down, Spoil-sport!--Here!"
The dog obeyed, but with manifest repugnance. His master had to speak
twice, before he would abstain from all hostile movements towards the
host. This latter, with a lantern in one hand and his cap in the other,
respectfully preceded the burgomaster, whose magisterial proportions
were lost in the half shadows of the staircase. Behind the judge, and
a few steps lower, the inquisitive faces of the people belonging to the
inn were dimly visible by the light of another lantern.
Dagobert, having turned the dog into the room, shut the door after him,
and advanced two steps on the landing-place, which was sufficiently
spacious to hold several persons, and had in one corner a wooden bench
with a back to it. The burgomaster, as he ascended the last stair, was
surprised to see Dagobert close the door of the chamber, as though he
wished to forbid his entrance. "Why do you shut that door?" asked he in
an abrupt tone.
"First, because two girls, whom I have the charge of, are in bed in
that room; secondly, because your examination would alarm them," replied