The Wandering Jew — Complete
communication with the Enemy of mankind. However, we will look after
this: the discovery may be of importance."
At this instant a clock struck twelve in the distance.
"Midnight! already?"
"Yes, my lord."
"I must be gone. Good-bye--but for the last time swear to me that,
should matters so turn out, as soon as you receive the other half of the
ivory crucifix I have just given you, you will keep your promise."
"I have sworn it by Bowanee, my lord."
"Don't forget that, to make all sure, the person who will deliver to you
the other half of the crucifix is to say--come, what is he to say?"
"He is to say, my lord: 'There is many a slip 'twixt the cup and the
lip.'"
"Very well. Adieu! secrecy and fidelity!"
"Secrecy and fidelity, my lord," answered the man in the cloak.
Some seconds after the hackney-coach started, carrying with it Cardinal
Malipieri, one of the speakers in the above dialogue. The other, whom
the reader has no doubt recognized as Faringhea, returned to the little
garden-door of the house occupied by Djalma. At the moment he
was putting the key into the lock, the door opened, to his great
astonishment, and a man came forth. Faringhea rushed upon the unknown,
seized him violently by the collar, and exclaimed: "Who are you? whence
came you?"
The stranger evidently found the tone of this question anything but
satisfactory; for, instead of answering, he struggled to disengage
himself from Faringhea's hold, and cried out, in a loud voice: "Help!
Peter!"
Instantly the carriage, which had been standing a few yards off, dashed
up at full speed, and Peter, the tall footman, seizing the half-breed by
the shoulders, flung him back several paces, and thus made a seasonable
diversion in favor of the unknown.
"Now, sir," said the latter to Faringhea, shaking himself, and still
protected by the gigantic footman, "I am in a state to answer your
questions, though you certainly have a very rough way of receiving an
old acquaintance. I am Dupont, ex-bailiff of the estate of Cardoville,
and it was I who helped to fish you out of the water, when the ship was
wrecked in which you had embarked."
By the light of the carriage-lamps, indeed, the half-caste
recognized the good, honest face of Dupont, formerly bailiff, and now
house-steward, to Mdlle. de Cardoville. It must not be forgotten that
Dupont had been the first to write to Mdlle. de Cardoville, to ask her
to interest herself for Djalma, who was then detained at Cardoville
Castle by the injuries he had received during the shipwreck.
"But, sir, what is your business here? Why do you introduce yourself
clandestinely into this house?" said Faringhea, in an abrupt and
suspicious tone.
"I will--just observe to you that there is nothing clandestine in the
matter. I came here in a carriage, with servants in the livery of my
excellent mistress, Mdlle. de Cardoville, charged by her, without any
disguise or mystery, to deliver a letter to Prince Djalma, her cousin,"
replied Dupont, with dignity.
On these words, Faringhea trembled with mute rage, as he answered: "And
why, sir, come at this late hour, and introduce yourself by this little
door?"
"I came at this hour, my dear sir, because such was Mdlle. de
Cardoville's command, and I entered by this little gate because there is
every reason to believe that if I had gone around to the other I should
not have been permitted to see the prince."
"You are mistaken, sir," replied the half-caste.
"It is possible: but as we knew that the prince usually passed a good
portion of the night in the little saloon, which communicates with the
greenhouse, and as Mdlle. de Cardoville had kept a duplicate key of this
door, I was pretty certain, by taking this course, to be able to deliver
into the prince's own hands the letter from Mdlle. de Cardoville, his
cousin, which I have now had the honor of doing, my dear sir; and I have
been deeply touched by the kindness with which the prince deigned to
receive me and to remember our last interview."
"And who kept you so well informed, sir, of the prince's habits?" said
Faringhea, unable to control his vexation.
"If I have been well informed as to his habits, my dear sir, I have had
no such correct knowledge of yours," answered Dupont, with a mocking
air; "for I assure you that I had no more notion of seeing you than you
had of seeing me."
So saying, M. Dupont bowed with something like mock politeness to the
half-caste, and got into the carriage, which drove off rapidly, leaving
Faringhea in a state of the utmost surprise and anger.
CHAPTER XXXIX. THE APPOINTMENT.
The morning after--Dupont's mission to Prince Djalma, the latter was
walking with hasty and impatient step up and down the little saloon,
which communicated, as we already know, with the greenhouse from which
Adrienne had entered when she first appeared to him. In remembrance of
that day, he had chosen to dress himself as on the occasion in question;
he wore the same tunic of white cashmere, with a cherry-colored turban,
to match with his girdle; his gaiters, of scarlet velvet, embroidered
with silver, displayed the fine form of his leg, and terminated in small
white morocco slippers, with red heels. Happiness has so instantaneous,
and, as it were, material an influence upon young, lively, and ardent
natures, that Djalma, dejected and despairing only the day before,
was no longer like the same person. The pale, transparent gold of his
complexion was no longer tarnished by a livid hue. His large eyes, of
late obscured like black diamonds by a humid vapor, now shone with mild
radiance in the centre of their pearly setting; his lips, long pale,
had recovered their natural color, which was rich and soft as the fine
purple flowers of his country.
Ever and anon, pausing in his hasty walk, he stopped suddenly, and
drew from his bosom a little piece of paper, carefully folded, which he
pressed to his lips with enthusiastic ardor. Then, unable to restrain
the expression of his full happiness, he uttered a full and sonorous
cry of joy, and with a bound he was in front of the plate-glass which
separated the saloon from the conservatory, in which he had first seen
Mdlle. de Cardoville. By a singular power of remembrance, or marvellous
hallucination of a mind possessed by a fixed idea, Djalma had often
seen, or fancied he saw, the adored semblance of Adrienne appear to him
through this sheet of crystal. The illusion had been so complete, that,
with his eyes ardently fixed on the vision he invoked, he had been able,
with the aid of a pencil dipped in carmine, to trace with astonishing
exactness, the profile of the ideal countenance which the delirium
of his imagination had presented to his view.(42) It was before
these delicate lines of bright carmine that Djalma now stood in deep
contemplation, after perusing and reperusing, and raising twenty times
to his lips, the letter he had received the night before from the hands
of Dupont. Djalma was not alone. Faringhea watched all the movements
of the prince, with a subtle, attentive, and gloomy aspect. Standing
respectfully in a corner of the saloon, the half-caste appeared to be
occupied in unfolding and spreading out Djalma's sash, light, silky
Indian web, the brown ground of which was almost entirely concealed by
the exquisite gold and silver embroidery with which it was overlaid.
The countenance of the half-caste wore a dark and gloomy expression.
He could not deceive himself. The letter from Mdlle. de Cardoville,
delivered by Dupont to Djalma, must have been the cause of the delight
he now experienced, for, without doubt, he knew himself beloved. In that
event, his obstinate silence towards Faringhea, ever since the latter
had entered the saloon, greatly alarmed the half-caste, who could not
tell what interpretation to put upon it. The night before, after parting
with Dupont, he had hastened, in a state of anxiety easily understood,
to look for the prince, in the hope of ascertaining the effect produced
by Mdlle. de Cardoville's letter. But he found the parlor door closed,
and when he knocked, he received no answer from within. Then, though the
night was far advanced, he had dispatched a note to Rodin, in which he
informed him of Dupont's visit and its probable intention. Djalma had
indeed passed the night in a tumult of happiness and hope, and a fever
of impatience quite impossible to describe. Repairing to his bed-chamber
only towards the morning, he had taken a few moments of repose, and had
then dressed himself without assistance.
Many times, but in vain, the half-caste had discreetly knocked at
the door of Djalma's apartment. It was only in the early part of the
afternoon that the prince had rung the bell to order his carriage to be
ready by half-past two. Faringhea having presented himself, the prince
had given him the order without looking at him, as he might have done to
any other of his servants. Was this suspicion, aversion, or mere absence
of mind on the part of Djalma? Such were the questions which the half
caste put to himself with growing anguish; for the designs of which he
was the most active and immediate instrument might all be ruined by the
least suspicion in the prince.
"Oh! the hours--the hours--how slow they are!" cried the young Indian,
suddenly, in a low and trembling voice.
"The day before yesterday, my lord, you said the hours were very long,"
observed Faringhea, as he drew near Djalma in order to attract his
attention. Seeing that he did not succeed in this he advanced a few
steps nearer, and resumed: "Your joy seems very great, my lord; tell the
cause of it to your poor and faithful servant, that he also may rejoice
with you."
If he heard the words, Djalma did not pay any attention to them. He made
no answer, and his large black eyes gazed upon vacancy. He seemed to
smile admiringly upon some enchanting vision, and he folded his two
hands upon his bosom, in the attitude which his countrymen assume at
the hour of prayer. After some instants of contemplation, he said: "What
o'clock is it?"--but he asked this question of himself, rather than of
any third person.
"It will soon be two o'clock, my lord," said Faringhea.
Having heard this answer, Djalma seated himself, and hid his face in his
hands, as if completely absorbed in some ineffable meditation. Urged on
by his growing anxiety, and wishing at any cost to attract the attention
of Djalma, Faringhea approached still nearer to him, and, almost certain
of the effect of the words he was about to utter, said to him in a slow
and emphatic voice: "My lord, I am sure that you owe the happiness which
now transports you to Mdlle. de Cardoville."
Hardly had this name been pronounced, than Djalma started from his
chair, looked the half-breed full in the face, and exclaimed, as if only
just aware of his presence, "Faringhea! you here!--what is the matter?"
"Your faithful servant shares in your joy, my lord."
"What joy?"
"That which the letter of Mdlle. de Cardoville has occasioned, my lord."
Djalma returned no answer, but his eye shone with so much serene
happiness, that the half-caste recovered from his apprehensions. No
cloud of doubt or suspicion obscured the radiant features of the prince.
After a few moments of silence, Djalma fixed upon the half-caste a look
half-veiled with a tear of joy, and said to him, with the expression of
one whose heart overflows with love and happiness: "Oh! such delight is
good--great--like heaven!--for it is heaven which--"
"You deserve this happiness, my lord, after so many sufferings."
"What sufferings?--Oh! yes. I formerly suffered at Java; but that was
years ago."
"My lord, this great good fortune does not astonish me. What have I
always told you? Do not despair; feign a violent passion for some other