The Wandering Jew — Complete
and you will behold them in their full beauty. I do not know,"
added Adrienne, in the most natural tone, "why, in thinking of these
outpourings of our dear aunt's affection, I should remember what you
told me, cousin, of a certain viper in your country which sometimes,
in a powerless bite, breaks its fangs, and, absorbing its own venom,
becomes the victim of the poison it distills. Come, my dear aunt, you
that had so good and noble a heart, I am sure you must feel interested
in the fate of those poor vipers."
The princess darted an implacable look at her niece, and replied, in an
agitated voice, "I do not see the object of this selection of natural
history. Do you, prince?"
Djalma made no answer; leaning with his arm on the mantelpiece, he threw
dark and piercing glances upon the princess. His involuntary hatred of
this woman filled his heart.
"Ah, my dear aunt!" resumed Adrienne, in a tone of self-reproach; "have
I presumed too much on the goodness of your heart? Have you not even
sympathy for vipers? For whom, then, have you any? After all, I can very
well understand it," added Adrienne, as if to herself; "vipers are so
thin. But, to lay aside these follies," she continued, gayly, as she
saw the ill-repressed rage of the pious woman, "tell us at once, my dear
aunt, all the tender things which the sight of our happiness inspires."
"I hope to do so, my amiable niece. First, I must congratulate this dear
prince, on having come so far to take charge, in all confidence, and
with his eyes shut, of you, my poor child, whom we were obliged to
confine as mad, in order to give a decent color to your excesses. You
remember the handsome lad, that we found in your apartment. You cannot
be so faithless, as already to have forgotten his name? He was a fine,
youth, and a poet--one Agricola Baudoin--and was discovered in a secret
place, attached to your bed-chamber. All Paris was amused with the
scandal--for you are not about to marry an unknown person, dear prince;
her name has been in every mouth."
At these unexpected and dreadful words, Adrienne, Djalma, and Mother
Bunch, though under the influence of different kinds of resentment,
remained for a moment mute with surprise; and the princess, judging it
no longer necessary to repress her infernal joy and triumphant hatred,
exclaimed, as she rose from her seat, with flushed cheek, and flashing
eyes, "Yes, I defy you to contradict me. Were we not forced to confine
you, on the plea of madness? And did we not find a workman (your lover)
concealed in your bedroom?"
On this horrible accusation, Djalma's golden complexion, transparent as
amber, became suddenly the color of lead; his eyes, fixed and staring
showed the white round the pupil--his upper lip, red as blood,
was curled in a kind of wild convulsion, which exposed to view the
firmly-set teeth--and his whole countenance became so frightfully
threatening and ferocious, that Mother Bunch shuddered with terror.
Carried away by the ardor of his blood, the young Oriental felt a sort
of dizzy, unreflecting, involuntary rage--a fiery commotion, like that
which makes the blood leap to the brave man's eyes and brain, when he
feels a blow upon his face. If, during that moment, rapid as the passage
of the lightning through the cloud, action could have taken the place of
thought, the princess and Adrienne, Mother Bunch and himself, would all
have been annihilated by an explosion as sudden and fatal as that of
the bursting of a mine. He would have killed the princess, because she
accused Adrienne of infamous deception he would have killed Adrienne,
because she could even be suspected of such infamy--and Mother Bunch,
for being a witness of the accusation--and himself, in order not to
survive such horrid treachery. But, oh wonder! his furious and bloodshot
gaze met the calm look of Adrienne--a look so full of dignity and serene
confidence--and the expression of ferocious rage passed away like a
flash of lightning.
Much more: to the great surprise of the princess and the young workgirl,
as the glances which Djalma cast upon Adrienne went (as it were) deeper
into that pure soul, not only did the Indian grow calm, but, by a
kind of transfiguration, his countenance seemed to borrow her serene
expression, and reflect, as in a mirror, the noble serenity impressed
on the young lady's features. Let us explain physically this moral
revolution, as consoling to the terrified workgirl, as provoking to the
princess. Hardly had the princess distilled the atrocious calumny from
her venomous lips, than Djalma, then standing before the fireplace, had,
in the first paroxysm of his fury, advanced a step towards her;
but, wishing as it were to moderate his rage, he held by the marble
chimney-piece, which he grasped with iron strength. A convulsive
trembling shook his whole body, and his features, altered and
contracted, became almost frightful. Adrienne, on her part, when she
heard the accusation, yielding to a first impulse of just indignation,
even as Djalma had yielded to one of blind fury, rose abruptly, with
offended pride flashing from her eyes; but, almost immediately appeased
by the consciousness of her own purity, her charming face resumed its
expression of adorable serenity. It was then that her eyes met Djalma's.
For a second, the young lady was even more afflicted than terrified
at the threatening and formidable expression of the young Indian's
countenance. "Can stupid indignity exasperate him to this degree?" said
Adrienne to herself. "Does he suspect me; then?"
But to this reflection, as rapid as it was painful, succeeded the most
lively joy, when the eyes of Adrienne rested for a short time on those
of the Indian, and she saw his agitated countenance grow calm as if
by magic, and become radiant and beautiful as before. Thus was the
abominable plot of the princess de Saint-Dizier utterly confounded by
the sincere and confiding expression of Adrienne's face. That was not
all. At the moment, when, as a spectator of this mute and expressive
scene (which proved so well the wondrous sympathy of those two beings,
who, without speaking a word, had understood and satisfied each other),
the princess was choking with rage and vexation--Adrienne, with a
charming smile and gesture, extended her fair hand to Djalma, who,
kneeling, imprinted on it a kiss of fire, which sent a light blush to
the forehead of the young lady.
Then the Hindoo, placing himself on the ermine carpet at the feet of
Mdlle. de Cardoville, in an attitude full of grace: and respect, rested
his chin on the palm of one of his hands, and gazed on her silently, in
a sort of mute adoration--while Adrienne, bending over him with a happy
smile "looked at the babies in his eyes," as the song says, with as much
amorous complacency, as if the hateful princess had not been present.
But soon, as if something were wanting to complete her happiness,
Adrienne beckoned to Mother Bunch, and made her sit down by her side.
Then, with her hand clasped in that of this excellent friend, Mdlle. de
Cardoville smiled on Djalma, stretched adoringly at her feet, and cast
on the dismayed princess a look of such calm and firm serenity, so
nobly expressive of the invincible quiet of her happiness, and her lofty
disdain of all calumnious attacks, that the Princess de Saint-Dizier,
confused and stupefied, murmured some hardly intelligible words, in a
voice trembling with passion, and, completely losing her presence of
mind, rushed towards the door. But, at this moment, the hunchback, who
feared some ambush, some perfidious plot in the background, resolved,
after exchanging a glance with Adrienne, to accompany the princess to
her carriage.
The angry disappointment of the Princess de Saint-Dizier, when she saw
herself thus followed and watched, appeared so comical to Mdlle. de
Cardoville that she could not help laughing aloud; and it was to the
sound of contemptuous hilarity that the hypocritical princess, with rage
and despair in her heart, quitted the house to which she had hoped to
bring trouble end misery. Adrienne and Djalma were left alone. Before
relating the scene which took place between them, a few retrospective
words are indispensable. It will easily be imagined, that since Mdlle.
de Cardoville and the Oriental had been brought into such close contact,
after so many disappointments, their days had passed away like a dream
of happiness. Adrienne had especially taken pains to bring to light, one
by one, all the generous qualities of Djalma, of which she had read so
much in her books of travels. The young lady had imposed on herself this
tender and patient study of Djalma's character, not only to justify
to her own mind the intensity of her love, but because this period
of trial, to which she had assigned a term, enabled her to temper and
divert the violence of Djalma's passion--a task the more meritorious,
as she herself was of the same ardent temperament. For, in those two
lovers, the finest qualities of sense and soul seemed exactly to balance
each other, and heaven had bestowed on them the rarest beauty of form,
and the most adorable excellence of heart, as if to legitimatize the
irresistible attraction which drew and bound them together. What, then,
was to be the term of this painful trial, which Adrienne had imposed
on Djalma and on herself? This is what Mdlle. de Cardoville intended
to tell the prince, in the interview she had with him, after the abrupt
departure of the Princess de Saint-Dizier.
CHAPTER LX. THE ORDEAL.
Adrienne de Cardoville and Djalma had remained alone. Such was the
noble confidence which had succeeded in the Hindoo's mind to his first
movement of unreflecting fury, caused by the infamous calumny, that,
once alone with Adrienne, he did not even allude to that shameful
accusation.
On her side (touching and admirable sympathy of those two hearts!),
the young lady was too proud, conscious of the purity of her love, to
descend to any justification of herself.
She would have considered it an insult both to herself and him.
Therefore, the lovers began their interview, as if the princess had
never made any such remark. The same contempt was extended to the
papers, which the princess had brought with her to prove the imminent
ruin to which Adrienne was exposed. The young lady had laid them down,
without reading them, on a stand within her reach. She made a graceful
sign to Djalma to seat himself by her side, and accordingly he quitted,
not without regret, the place he had occupied at her feet.
"My love," said Adrienne, in a grave and tender voice, "you have often
impatiently asked me, when would come the term of the trial we have laid
upon ourselves. That moment is at hand."
Djalma started, and could not restrain a cry of surprise and joy; but
this almost trembling exclamation was so soft and sweet, that it seemed
rather the expression of ineffable gratitude, than of exulting passion.
Adrienne continued: "Separated--surrounded by treachery and
fraud--mutually deceived as to each other's sentiments--we yet loved
on, and in that followed an irresistible attraction, stronger than every
opposing influence. But since then, in these days of happy retirement
from the world, we have learned to value and esteem each other more.
Left to ourselves in perfect freedom, we have had the courage to resist
every temptation, that hereafter we might be happy without remorse.
During these days, in which our hearts had been laid open to each other,
we have read them thoroughly. Yes, Djalma! I believe in you, and you in
me--I find in you all that you find in me--every possible human security
for our future happiness. But this love must yet be consecrated; and in
the eyes of the world, in which we are called upon to live, marriage is