The Wandering Jew — Complete
"You are right, and the door shuts so badly."
"And look at the holes in the roof."
"What is to be done, sister?"
"I will tell you," said Mother Bunch. "The straw of our mattress, well
twisted, will answer every purpose."
"Certainly," replied Cephyse. "We will keep a little to light our fire,
and with the rest we will stop up all the crevices in the roof, and make
filling for our doors and windows."
Then, smiling with that bitter irony, so frequent, we repeat, in the
most gloomy moments, Cephyse added, "I say, sister, weather-boards
at our doors and windows, to prevent the air from getting in--what a
luxury! we are as delicate as rich people."
"At such a time, we may as well try to make ourselves a little
comfortable," said Mother Bunch, trying to jest like the Bacchanal
Queen.
And with incredible coolness, the two began to twist the straw into
lengths of braid, small enough to be stuffed into the cracks of the
door, and also constructed large plugs, destined to stop up the crevices
in the roof. While this mournful occupation lasted, there was no
departure from the calm and sad resignation of the two unfortunate
creatures.
CHAPTER XXXII. SUICIDE.
Cephyse and her sister continued with calmness the preparations for
their death.
Alas! how many poor young girls, like these sisters, have been, and
still will be, fatally driven to seek in suicide a refuge from despair,
from infamy, or from a too miserable existence! And upon society
will rest the terrible responsibility of these sad deaths, so long as
thousands of human creatures, unable to live upon the mockery of wages
granted to their labor, have to choose between these three gulfs of
shame and woe; a life of enervating toil and mortal privations, causes
of premature death; prostitution, which kills also, but slowly--by
contempt, brutality, and uncleanness; suicide--which kills at once.
In a few minutes, the two sisters had constructed, with the straw of
their couch, the calkings necessary to intercept the air, and to render
suffocation more expeditious and certain.
The hunchback said to her sister, "You are the taller, Cephyse, and must
look to the ceiling; I will take care of the window and door."
"Be satisfied, sister; I shall have finished before you," answered
Cephyse.
And the two began carefully to stop up every crevice through which a
current of air could penetrate into the ruined garret. Thanks to her
tall stature, Cephyse was able to reach the holes in the roof, and
to close them up entirely. When they had finished this sad work, the
sisters again approached, and looked at each other in silence.
The fatal moment drew near; their faces, though still calm, seemed
slightly agitated by that strange excitement which always accompanies a
double suicide.
"Now," said Mother Bunch, "now for the fire!"
She knelt down before the little chafing-dish, filled with charcoal. But
Cephyse took hold of her under the arm, and obliged her to rise again,
saying to her, "Let me light the fire--that is my business."
"But, Cephyse--"
"You know, poor sister, that the smell of charcoal gives you the
headache!"
At the simplicity of this speech, for the Bacchanal Queen had spoken
seriously, the sisters could not forbear smiling sadly.
"Never mind," resumed Cephyse; "why suffer more and sooner than is
necessary?"
Then, pointing to the mattress, which still contained a little straw,
Cephyse added, "Lie down there, good little sister; when our fire is
alight, I will come and sit down by you."
"Do not be long, Cephyse."
"In five minutes it will be done."
The tall building, which faced the street, was separated by a narrow
court from that which contained the retreat of the two sisters, and was
so much higher, that when the sun had once disappeared behind its lofty
roof, the garret soon became dark. The light, passing through the dirty
panes of the small window, fell faintly on the blue and white patchwork
of the old mattress, on which Mother Bunch was now stretched, covered
with rags. Leaning on her left arm, with her chin resting in the palm
of her hand, she looked after her sister with an expression of
heart-rending grief. Cephyse, kneeling over the chafing-dish, with her
face close to the black charcoal, above which already played a little
bluish flame, exerted herself to blow the newly-kindled fire, which was
reflected on the pale countenance of the unhappy girl.
The silence was deep. No sound was heard but the panting breath of
Cephyse, and, at intervals, the slight crackling of the charcoal, which
began to burn, and already sent forth a faint sickening vapor. Cephyse,
seeing the fire completely lighted, and feeling already a little dizzy,
rose from the ground, and said to her sister, as she approached her, "It
is done!"
"Sister," answered Mother Bunch, kneeling on the mattress, whilst
Cephyse remained standing, "how shall we place ourselves? I should like
to be near you to the last."
"Stop!" said Cephyse, half executing the measures of which she spoke,
"I will sit on the mattress with my back against the wall. Now, little
sister, you lie there. Lean your head upon my knees, and give me your
hand. Are you comfortable so?"
"Yes--but I cannot see you."
"That is better. It seems there is a moment--very short, it is true--in
which one suffers a good deal. And," added Cephyse, in a voice of
emotion, "it will be as well not to see each other suffer."
"You are right, Cephyse."
"Let me kiss that beautiful hair for the last time," said Cephyse, as
she pressed her lips to the silky locks which crowned the hunchback's
pale and melancholy countenance, "and then--we will remain very quiet."
"Sister, your hand," said the sewing-girl; "for the last time, your
hand--and then, as you say, we will move no more. We shall not have to
wait long, I think, for I begin to feel dizzy. And you, sister?"
"Not yet," replied Cephyse; "I only perceive the smell of the charcoal."
"Do you know where they will bury us?" said Mother Bunch, after a
moment's silence.
"No. Why do you ask?"
"Because I should like it to be in Pere-la-Chaise. I went there once
with Agricola and his mother. What a fine view there is!--and then
the trees, the flowers, the marble--do you know the dead are better
lodged--than the living--and--"
"What is the matter, sister?" said Cephyse to her companion, who had
stopped short, after speaking in a slow voice.
"I am giddy--my temples throb," was the answer. "How do you feel?"
"I only begin to be a little faint; it is strange--the effect is slower
with me than you."
"Oh! you see," said Mother Bunch, trying to smile, "I was always so
forward. At school, do you remember, they said I was before the others.
And, now it happens again."
"I hope soon to overtake you this time," said Cephyse.
What astonished the sisters was quite natural. Though weakened by sorrow
and misery, the Bacchanal Queen, with a constitution as robust as the
other was frail and delicate, was necessarily longer than her sister in
feeling the effects of the deleterious vapor. After a moment's silence,
Cephyse resumed, as she laid her hand on the head she still held upon
her knees, "You say nothing, sister! You suffer, is it not so?"
"No," said Mother Bunch, in a weak voice; "my eyelids are heavy as
lead--I am getting benumbed--I feel that I speak more slowly--but I have
no acute pain. And you, sister?"
"Whilst you were speaking, I felt giddy--and now my temples throb
violently."
"As it was with me just now. One would think it was more painful and
difficult to die."
Then after a moment's silence, the hunchback said suddenly to her
sister, "Do you think that Agricola will much regret me, and think of me
for some time?"
"How can you ask?" said Cephyse, in a tone of reproach.
"You are right," answered Mother Bunch, mildly; "there is a bad feeling
in such a doubt--but if you knew--"
"What, sister?"
The other hesitated for an instant, and then said, dejectedly,
"Nothing." Afterwards, she added, "Fortunately, I die convinced that
he will never miss me. He married a charming girl, who loves him, I am
sure, and will make him perfectly happy."
As she pronounced these last words, the speaker's voice grew fainter
and fainter. Suddenly she started and said to Cephyse, in a
trembling, almost frightened tone, "Sister! Hold me in your arms--I am
afraid--everything looks dark--everything is turning round." And the
unfortunate girl, raising herself a little, hid her face in her sister's
bosom, and threw his weak arms around her.
"Courage, sister!" said Cephyse, in a voice which was also growing
faint, as she pressed her closer to her bosom; "it will soon be over."
And Cephyse added, with a kind of envy, "Oh! why does my sister's
strength fail so much sooner than mine? I have still my perfect
senses and I suffer less than she does. Oh! if I thought she would
die first!--But, no--I will go and hold my face over the chafing-dish
rather."
At the movement Cephyse made to rise, a feeble pressure from her sister
held her back. "You suffer, my poor child!" said Cephyse, trembling.
"Oh yes! a good deal now--do not leave me!"
"And I scarcely at all," said Cephyse, gazing wildly at the
chafing-dish. "Ah!" added she, with a kind of fatal! joy; "now I begin
to feel it--I choke--my head is ready to split."
And indeed the destructive gas now filled the little chamber, from which
it had, by degrees, driven all the air fit for respiration. The day was
closing in, and the gloomy garret was only lighted by the reflection of
the burning charcoal, which threw a red glare on the sisters, locked
in each other's arms. Suddenly Mother Bunch made some slight
convulsive movements, and pronounced these words in a failing voice:
"Agricola--Mademoiselle de Cardoville--Oh! farewell!--Agricola--I--"
Then she murmured some unintelligible words; the convulsive moments
ceased, and her arms, which had been clasped round Cephyse, fell inert
upon the mattress.
"Sister!" cried Cephyse, in alarm, as she raised Mother Bunch's head, to
look at her face. "Not already, sister!--And I?--and I?"
The sewing-girl's mild countenance was not paler than usual. Only her
eyes, half-closed, seemed no longer to see anything, and a half-smile
of mingled grief and goodness lingered an instant about her violet lips,
from which stole the almost imperceptible breath--and then the mouth
became motionless, and the face assumed a great serenity of expression.
"But you must not die before me!" cried Cephyse, in a heart-rending
tone, as she covered with kisses the cold cheek. "Wait for me, sister!
wait for me!"
Mother Bunch did not answer. The head, which Cephyse let slip from her
hands, fell back gently on the mattress.
"My God. It is not my fault, if we do not die together!" cried Cephyse
in despair, as she knelt beside the couch, on which the other lay
motionless.
"Dead!" she murmured in terror. "Dead before me!--Perhaps it is that I
am the strongest. Ah! it begins--fortunately--like her, I see everything
dark-blue--I suffer--what happiness!--I can scarcely breathe. Sister!"
she added, as she threw her arms round her loved one's neck; "I am
coming--I am here!"
At the same instant the sound of footsteps and voices was heard from the
staircase. Cephyse had still presence of mind enough to distinguish
the sound. Stretched beside the body of her sister, she raised her head
hastily.
The noise approached, and a voice was heard exclaiming, not far from the
doer: "Good heavens! what a smell of fire!"
And, at the same instant, the door was violently shaken, and another
voice exclaimed: "Open! open!"
"They will come in--they will save me--and my sister is dead--Oh, no! I
will not have the baseness to survive her!"