The Wandering Jew — Complete
more humbly to M. de Montbron; and he went out.
Hardly had Rodin left the room than Adrienne ran to her desk, and
writing a few hasty lines, sealed the note, and said to M. de Montbron:
"I shall not see the prince before to-morrow--as much from superstition
of the heart as because it is necessary for my plans that this interview
should be attended with some little solemnity. You shall know all; but I
write to him on the instant, for, with an enemy like M. Rodin, one must
be prepared for all."
"You are right, my dear child; quick! the letter." Adrienne gave it to
him.
"I tell him enough," said she, "to calm his grief; and not enough to
deprive me of the delicious happiness of the surprise I reserve for to
morrow."
"All this has as much sense as heart in it: I will hasten to the
prince's abode, to deliver your letter. I shall not see him, for I
could not answer for myself. But come! our proposed drive, our evening's
amusement, are still to hold good."
"Certainly. I have more need than ever to divert my thoughts till
to morrow. I feel, too, that the fresh air will do me good, for this
interview with M. Rodin has warmed me a little."
"The old wretch! but we will talk further of him. I will hasten to the
prince's and return with Madame de Morinval, to fetch you to the Champs
Elysees."
The Count de Montbron withdrew precipitately, as joyful at his departure
as he had been sad on his arrival.
CHAPTER XI. THE CHAMPS-ELYSEES
It was about two hours after the interview of Rodin with Mdlle. de
Cardoville. Numerous loungers, attracted to the Champs-Elysees by the
serenity of a fine spring day (it was towards the end of the month of
March) stopped to admire a very handsome equipage. A bright-blue open
carriage, with white-and-blue wheels, drawn by four superb horses,
of cream color, with black manes, and harness glittering with silver
ornaments, mounted by two boy postilions of equal size, with black
velvet caps, light-blue cassimere jackets with white collars, buckskin
breeches, and top-boots; two tall, powdered footmen, also in light-blue
livery, with white collars and facings, being seated in the rumble
behind.
No equipage could have been turned out in better style. The horses, full
of blood, spirit, and vigor, were skillfully managed by the postilions,
and stepped with singular regularity, gracefully keeping time in their
movements, champing their bits covered with foam, and ever and anon
shaking their cockades of blue and white silk, with long floating ends,
and a bright rose blooming in the midst.
A man on horseback, dressed with elegant simplicity, keeping at the
other side of the avenue, contemplated with proud satisfaction
this equipage which he had, as it were, created. It was M. de
Bonneville--Adrienne's equerry, as M. de Montbron called him--for the
carriage belonged to that young lady. A change had taken place in the
plan for this magic day's amusement. M. de Montbron had not been able to
deliver Mdlle. de Cardoville's note to Prince Djalma. Faringhea had told
him that the prince had gone that morning into the country with Marshal
Simon, and would not be back before evening. The letter should be given
him on his arrival. Completely satisfied as to Djalma, knowing that
he could find these few lines, which, without informing him of the
happiness that awaited him, would at least give him some idea of it,
Adrienne had followed the advice of M. de Montbron, and gone to the
drive in her own carriage, to show all the world that she had quite
made up her mind, in spite of the perfidious reports circulated by the
Princess de Saint Dizier, to keep to her resolution of living by herself
in her own way. Adrienne wore a small white bonnet, with a fall of
blonde, which well became her rosy face and golden hair; her high
dress of garnet-colored velvet was almost hidden beneath a large green
cashmere shawl. The young Marchioness de Morinval, who was also very
pretty and elegant, was seated at her right. M. de Montbron occupied the
front seat of the carriage.
Those who know the Parisian world, or rather, that imperceptible
fraction of the world of Paris which goes every fine, sunny day to the
Champs Elysees, to see and be seen, will understand that the presence
of Mdlle. de Cardoville on that brilliant promenade was an extraordinary
and interesting event.
The world (as it is called) could hardly believe its eyes, on seeing
this lady of eighteen, possessed of princely wealth, and belonging to
the highest nobility, thus prove to every one, by this appearance in
public, that she was living completely free and independent, contrary to
all custom and received notions of propriety. This kind of emancipation
appeared something monstrous, and people were almost astonished that
the graceful and dignified bearing of the young lady should belie so
completely the calumnies circulated by Madame de Saint-Dizier and her
friends, with regard to the pretended madness of her niece. Many beaux,
profiting by their acquaintance with the Marchioness de Morinval or M.
de Montbron, came by turns to pay their respects, and rode for a few
minutes by the side of the carriage, so as to have an opportunity
of seeing, admiring, and perhaps hearing, Mdlle. de Cardoville; she
surpassed their expectations, by talking with her usual grace and
spirit. Then surprise and enthusiasm knew no bounds. What had at first
been blamed as an almost insane caprice, was now voted a charming
originality, and it only depended on Mdlle. de Cardoville herself, to be
declared from that day the queen of elegance and fashion. The young lady
understood very well the impression she had made; she felt proud and
happy, for she thought of Djalma; when she compared him to all these
men of fashion, her happiness was the more increased. And, verily, these
young men, most of whom had never quitted Paris, or had ventured at most
as far as Naples or Baden, looked insignificant enough by the side of
Djalma, who, at his age, had so many times commanded and combated in
bloody wars, and whose reputation far courage and generosity, mentioned
by travellers with admiration, had already reached from India to Paris.
And then, how could these charming exquisites, with their small hats,
their scanty frock-coats, and their huge cravats, compare with the
Indian prince, whose graceful and manly beauty was still heightened by
the splendor of a costume, at once so rich and so picturesque?
On this happy day, all was joy and love for Adrienne. The sun, setting
in a splendidly serene sky, flooded the promenade with its golden light.
The air was warm. Carriages and horsemen passed and repassed in rapid
succession; a light breeze played with the scarfs of the women, and
the plumes in their bonnets; all around was noise, movement, sunshine.
Adrienne, leaning back in her carriage, amused herself with watching
this busy scene, sparkling with Parisian luxury; but, in the vortex
of this brilliant chaos, she saw in thought the mild, melancholy
countenance of Djalma--when suddenly something fell into her lap, and
she started. It was a bunch of half-faded violets. At the same instant
she heard a child's voice following the carriage, and saying: "For the
love of heaven, my good lady, one little sou!" Adrienne turned her head,
and saw a poor little girl, pale and wan, with mild, sorrowful features,
scarcely covered with rags, holding out her hand, and raising her eyes
in supplication. Though the striking contrast of extreme misery, side
by side with extreme luxury, is so common, that it no longer excites
attention, Adrienne was deeply affected by it. She thought of Mother
Bunch, now, perhaps, the victim of frightful destitution.
"Ah! at least," thought the young lady, "let not this day be one of
happiness for me alone!"
She leaned from the carriage-window, and said to the poor child: "Have
you a mother, my dear?"
"No, my lady, I have neither father nor mother."
"Who takes care of you?"
"No one, my lady. They give me nosegays to sell, and I must bring home
money--or they beat me."
"Poor little thing!"
"A sou, my good lady--a sou, for the love of heaven!" said the child,
continuing to follow the carriage, which was then moving slowly.
"My dear count," said Adrienne, smiling, and addressing M. de Montbron,
"you are, unfortunately, no novice at an elopement. Please to stretch
forth your arms, take up that child with both hands, and lift her into
the carriage. We can hide her between Lady de Morinval and myself; and
we can drive away before any one perceives this audacious abduction."
"What!" said the count, in surprise. "You wish--"
"Yes; I beg you to do it."
"What a folly!"
"Yesterday, you might, perhaps, have treated this caprice as a folly;
but to-day," said Adrienne, laying great stress upon the word, and
glancing at M. de Montbron with a significant air, "to-day, you should
understand that it is almost a duty."
"Yes, I understand you, good and noble heart!" said the count,
with emotion; while Lady de Morinval, who knew nothing of Mdlle. de
Cardoville's love for Djalma, looked with as much surprise as curiosity
at the count and the young lady.
M. de Montbron, leaning from the carriage, stretched out his arms
towards the child, and said to her: "Give me your hands, little girl."
Though much astonished, the child obeyed mechanically, and held out both
her little arms; then the count took her by the wrists, and lifted her
lightly from the ground, which he did the more easily, as the carnage
was very low, and its progress by no means rapid. More stupefied than
frightened, the child said not a word. Adrienne and Lady de Morinval
made room for her to crouch down between them, and the little girl was
soon hidden beneath the shawls of the two young women. All this was
executed so quickly, that it was hardly perceived by a few persons
passing in the side-avenues.
"Now, my dear count," said Adrienne, radiant with pleasure, "let us make
off at once with our prey."
M. de Montbron half rose, and called to the postilions. "Home!" and the
four horses started at once into a rapid and regular trot.
"This day of happiness now seems consecrated, and my luxury is excused,"
thought Adrienne; "till I can again meet with that poor Mother Bunch,
and from this day I will make every exertion to find her out, her place
will at least not be quite empty."
There are often strange coincidences in life. At the moment when this
thought of the hunchback crossed the mind of Adrienne, a crowd had
collected in one of the side-avenues, and other persons soon ran to join
the group.
"Look, uncle!" said Lady de Morinval; "how many people are assembled
yonder. What can it be? Shall we stop, and send to inquire?"
"I am sorry, my dear, but your curiosity cannot be satisfied," said
the count, drawing out his watch; "it will soon be six o'clock, and the
exhibition of the wild beasts begin at eight. We shall only just have
time to go home and dine. Is not that your opinion, my dear child?" said
he to Adrienne.
"And yours, Julia?" said Mdlle. de Cardoville to the marchioness.
"Oh, certainly!" answered her friend.
"I am the less inclined to delay," resumed the count, "as when I have
taken you to the Porte-Saint-Martin, I shall be obliged to go for half
an-hour to my club, to ballot for Lord Campbell, whom I propose."
"Then, Adrienne and I will be left alone at the play, uncle?"
"Your husband will go with you, I suppose."
"True, dear uncle; but do not quite leave us, because of that."
"Be sure I shall not: for I am curious as you are to see these terrible
animals, and the famous Morok, the incomparable lion-tamer."
A few minutes after, Mdlle. de Cardoville's carriage had left the Champs
Elysees, carrying with it the little girl, and directing its course