The Wandering Jew — Complete
CHAPTER XLV. THE BLOCKHEAD
We have stated that Marshal Simon occupied a small house in the Rue
des Trois-Freres. Two o'clock in the afternoon had just struck in the
marshal's sleeping-chamber, a room furnished with military simplicity.
In the recess, in which stood the bed, hung a trophy composed of the
arms used by the marshal during his campaigns. On the secretary opposite
was a small bronze bust of the emperor, the only ornament of the
apartment. Out of doors the temperature was far from warm, and the
marshal had become susceptible to cold during his long residence in
India. A good fire therefore blazed upon the hearth. A door, concealed
by the hangings, and leading to a back staircase, opened slowly, and
a man entered the chamber. He carried a basket of wood, and advanced
leisurely to the fireplace, before which he knelt clown, and began to
arrange the logs symmetrically in a box that stood besides the hearth.
After some minutes occupied in this manner, still kneeling, he gradually
approached another door, at a little distance from the chimney, and
appeared to listen with deep attention, as if he wished to hear what was
passing in the next room.
This man, employed as an inferior servant in the house, had the most
ridiculously stupid look that can be imagined. His functions consisted
in carrying wood, running errands, etc. In other respects he was a kind
of laughing-stock to the other servants. In a moment of good humor,
Dagobert, who filled the post of major-domo, had given this idiot the
name of "Loony" (lunatic), which he had retained ever since, and which
he deserved in every respect, as well for his awkwardness and folly as
for his unmeaning face, with its grotesquely flat nose, sloping chin,
and wide, staring eyes. Add to this description a jacket of red stuff,
and a triangular white apron, and we must acknowledge that the simpleton
was quite worthy of his name.
Yet, at the moment when Loony listened so attentively at the door of the
adjoining room, a ray of quick intelligence animated for an instant his
dull and stupid countenance.
When he had thus listened for a short time, Loony returned to the
fireplace, still crawling on his knees; then rising, he again took his
basket half full of wood, and once more approaching the door at which
he had listened knocked discreetly. No one answered. He knocked a second
time, and more loudly. Still there was the same silence.
Then he said, in a harsh, squeaking, laughable voice: "Ladies, do you
want any wood, if you please, for your fire?"
Receiving no answer, Loony placed his basket on the ground, opened the
door gently, and entered the next room, after casting a rapid glance
around. He came out again in a few seconds, looking from side to side
with an anxious air, like a man who had just accomplished some important
and mysterious task.
Taking up his basket, he was about to leave Marshal Simon's room, when
the door of the private staircase was opened slowly and with precaution,
and Dagobert appeared.
The soldier, evidently surprised at the servant's presence, knitted his
brows, and exclaimed abruptly, "What are you doing here?"
At this sudden interrogation, accompanied by a growl expressive of the
ill-humor of Spoil-sport, who followed close on his master's heels,
Loony uttered a cry of real or pretended terror. To give, perhaps, an
appearance of greater reality to his dread, the supposed simpleton let
his basket fall on the ground, as if astonishment and fear had loosened
his hold of it.
"What are you doing, numbskull?" resumed Dagobert, whose countenance was
impressed with deep sadness, and who seemed little disposed to laugh at
the fellow's stupidity.
"Oh, M. Dagobert! how you frighten me! Dear me! what a pity I had not an
armful of plates, to prove it was not my fault if I broke them all."
"I ask what you are doing," resumed the soldier.
"You see, M. Dagobert," replied Loony, pointing to his basket, "that I
came with some wood to master's room, so that he might burn it, if it
was cold--which it is."
"Very well. Pick up your wood, and begone!"
"Oh, M. Dagobert! my legs tremble under me. How you did scare me, to be
sure!"
"Will you begone, brute?" resumed the veteran; and seizing Loony by the
arm, he pushed him towards the door, while Spoil-sport, with recumbent
ears, and hair standing up like the quills of a porcupine, seemed
inclined to accelerate his retreat.
"I am going, M. Dagobert, I am going," replied the simpleton, as he
hastily gathered up his basket; "only please to tell the dog--"
"Go to the devil, you stupid chatterbox!" cried Dagobert, as he pushed
Loony through the doorway.
Then the soldier bolted the door which led to the private staircase, and
going to that which communicated with the apartments of the two sisters,
he double-locked it. Having done this, he hastened to the alcove
in which stood the bed and taking down a pair of loaded pistols, he
carefully removed the percussion caps, and, unable to repress a deep
sigh, restored the weapons to the place in which he had found them.
Then, as if on second thoughts, he took down an Indian dagger with a
very sharp blade, and drawing it from its silver-gilt sheath, proceeded
to break the point of this murderous instrument, by twisting it beneath
one of the iron castors of the bed.
Dagobert then proceeded to unfasten the two doors, and, returning slowly
to the marble chimney-piece, he leaned against it with a gloomy and
pensive air. Crouching before the fire, Spoil-sport followed with an
attentive eye the least movement of his master. The good dog displayed
a rare and intelligent sagacity. The soldier, having drawn out his
handkerchief, let fall, without perceiving it, a paper containing a roll
of tobacco. Spoil-sport, who had all the qualities of a retriever of
the Rutland race, took the paper between his teeth, and, rising upon
his hind-legs, presented it respectfully to Dagobert. But the latter
received it mechanically, and appeared indifferent to the dexterity of
his dog. The grenadier's countenance revealed as much sorrow as
anxiety. After remaining for some minutes near the fire, with fixed and
meditative look, he began to walk about the room in great agitation, one
of his hands thrust into the bosom of his long blue frock-coat, which
was buttoned up to the chin, and the other into one of his hind-pockets.
From time to time he stopped abruptly, and seemed to make reply to his
own thoughts, or uttered an exclamation of doubt and uneasiness; then,
turning towards the trophy of arms, he shook his head mournfully,
and murmured, "No matter--this fear may be idle; but he has acted so
extraordinarily these two days, that it is at all events more prudent--"
He continued his walk, and said, after a new and prolonged silence: "Yes
he must tell me. It makes me too uneasy. And then the poor children--it
is enough to break one's heart."
And Dagobert hastily drew his moustache between his thumb and
forefinger, a nervous movement, which with him was an evident symptom
of extreme agitation. Some minutes after, the soldier resumed, still
answering his inward thoughts: "What can it be? It is hardly possible to
be the letters, they are too infamous; he despises them. And yet But no,
no--he is above that!"
And Dagobert again began to walk with hasty steps. Suddenly, Spoil-sport
pricked up his ears, turned his head in the direction of the staircase
door, and growled hoarsely. A few seconds after, some one knocked at the
door.
"Who is there?" said Dagobert. There was no answer, but the person
knocked again. Losing patience, the soldier went hastily to open it, and
saw the servant's stupid face.
"Why don't you answer, when I ask who knocks!" said the soldier,
angrily.
"M. Dagobert, you sent me away just now, and I was afraid of making you
cross, if I said I had come again."
"What do you want? Speak then--come in, stupid!" cried the exasperated.
Dagobert, as he pulled him into the room.
"M. Dagobert, don't be angry--I'll tell you all about it--it is a young
man."
"Well?"
"He wants to speak to you directly, Mr. Dagobert."
"His name?"
"His name, M. Dagobert?" replied Loony, rolling about and laughing with
an idiotic air.
"Yes, his name. Speak, idiot!"
"Oh, M. Dagobert! it's all in joke that you ask me his name!"
"You are determined, fool that you are, to drive me out of my senses!"
cried the soldier, seizing Loony by the collar. "The name of this young
man!"
"Don't be angry, M. Dagobert. I didn't tell you the name because you
know it."
"Beast!" said Dagobert, shaking his fist at him.
"Yes, you do know it, M. Dagobert, for the young man is your own son. He
is downstairs, and wants to speak to you directly--yes, directly."
The stupidity was so well assumed, that Dagobert was the dupe of it.
Moved to compassion rather than anger by such imbecility, he looked
fixedly at the servant, shrugged his shoulders, and said, as he advanced
towards the staircase, "Follow me!"
Loony obeyed; but, before closing the door, he drew a letter secretly
from his pocket, and dropped it behind him without turning his head,
saying all the while to Dagobert, for the purpose of occupying his
attention: "Your son is in the court, M. Dagobert. He would not come
up--that's why he is still downstairs!"
Thus talking, he closed the door, believing he had left the letter
on the floor of Marshal Simon's room. But he had reckoned without
Spoil-sport. Whether he thought it more prudent to bring up the rear,
or, from respectful deference for a biped, the worthy dog had been the
last to leave the room, and, being a famous carrier, as soon as he saw
the letter dropped by Loony, he took it delicately between his teeth,
and followed close on the heels of the servant, without the latter
perceiving this new proof of the intelligence and sagacity of
Spoil-sport.
CHAPTER XLVI. THE ANONYMOUS LETTERS.
We will explain presently what became of the letter, which Spoil-sport
held between his teeth, and why he left his master, when the latter ran
to meet Agricola. Dagobert had not seen his son for some days. Embracing
him cordially, he led him into one of the rooms on the ground floor,
which he usually occupied. "And how is your wife?" said the soldier to
his son.
"She is well, father, thank you."
Perceiving a great change in Agricola's countenance, Dagobert resumed:
"You look sad. Has anything gone wrong since I saw you last?"
"All is over, father. We have lost him," said the smith, in a tone of
despair.
"Lost whom?"
"M. Hardy."
"M. Hardy!--why, three days ago, you told me you were going to see him."
"Yes, father, I have seen him--and my dear brother Gabriel saw him
and spoke to him--how he speaks! with a voice that comes from the
heart!--and he had so revived and encouraged him, that M. Hardy
consented to return amongst us. Then I, wild with joy, ran to tell the
good news to some of my mates, who were waiting to hear the result of
nay interview with M. Hardy. I brought them all with me to thank and
bless him. We were within a hundred yards of the house belonging to the
black-gowns--"
"Ali, the black-gowns!" said Dagobert, with a gloomy air. "Then some
mischief will happen. I know them."
"You are not mistaken, father," answered Agricola, with a sigh. "I was
running on with my comrades, when I saw a carriage coming towards us.
Some presentiment told me that they were taking away M. Hardy."
"By force!" said Dagobert, hastily.
"No," answered Agricola, bitterly; "no--the priests are too cunning for
that. They know how to make you an accomplice in the evil they do you.
Shall I not always remember how they managed with my good mother?"
"Yes, the worthy woman! there was a poor fly caught in the spider's web.