The Wandering Jew — Complete
she gets tipsy--without mentioning, that every night she plays on a
hunting horn of massive gold--all which causes the utmost grief and
despair to her poor aunt the princess."
Here the bailiff burst into a fit of laughter, which interrupted his
wife.
"Now tell me," said he, when this first access of hilarity was over,
"where did you get these fine stories about Mademoiselle Adrienne?"
"From Rene's wife, who went to Paris to look for a child to nurse; she
called at Saint-Dizier House, to see Madame Grivois, her godmother.--Now
Madame Grivois is first bedchamber woman to the princess--and she it
was who told her all this--and surely she ought to know, being in the
house."
"Yes, a fine piece of goods that Grivois! once she was a regular bad
'un, but now she professes to be as over-nice as her mistress; like
master like man, they say. The princess herself, who is now so stiff and
starched, knew how to carry on a lively game in her time. Fifteen years
ago, she was no such prude: do you remember that handsome colonel of
hussars, who was in garrison at Abbeville? an exiled noble who had
served in Russia, whom the Bourbons gave a regiment on the Restoration?"
"Yes, yes--I remember him; but you are really too backbiting."
"Not a bit--I only speak the truth. The colonel spent his whole time
here, and every one said he was very warm with this same princess, who
is now such a saint. Oh! those were the jolly times. Every evening, some
new entertainment at the chateau. What a fellow that colonel was, to set
things going; how well he could act a play!--I remember--"
The bailiff was unable to proceed. A stout maid-servant, wearing the
costume and cap of Picardy, entered in haste, and thus addressed her
mistress: "Madame, there is a person here that wants to speak to master;
he has come in the postmaster's calash from Saint-Valery, and he says
that he is M. Rodin."
"M. Rodin?" said the bailiff rising. "Show him in directly!"
A moment after, M. Rodin made his appearance. According to his custom,
he was dressed even more than plainly. With an air of great humility,
he saluted the bailiff and his wife, and at a sign from her husband,
the latter withdrew. The cadaverous countenance of M. Rodin, his almost
invisible lips, his little reptile eyes, half concealed by their flabby
lids, and the sordid style of his dress, rendered his general aspect
far from prepossessing; yet this man knew how, when it was necessary,
to affect, with diabolical art, so much sincerity and good-nature--his
words were so affectionate and subtly penetrating--that the disagreeable
feeling of repugnance, which the first sight of him generally inspired,
wore off little by little, and he almost always finished by involving
his dupe or victim in the tortuous windings of an eloquence as pliant
as it was honeyed and perfidious; for ugliness and evil have their
fascination, as well as what is good and fair.
The honest bailiff looked at this man with surprise, when he thought
of the pressing recommendation of the steward of the Princess de Saint
Dizier; he had expected to see quite another sort of personage, and,
hardly able to dissemble his astonishment, he said to him: "Is it to M.
Rodin that I have the honor to speak?"
"Yes, sir; and here is another letter from the steward of the Princess
de Saint-Dizier."
"Pray, sir, draw near the fire, whilst I just see what is in this
letter. The weather is so bad," continued the bailiff, obligingly, "may
I not offer you some refreshment?"
"A thousand thanks, my dear sir; I am off again in an hour."
Whilst M. Dupont read, M. Rodin threw inquisitive glances round the
chamber; like a man of skill and experience, he had frequently drawn
just and useful inductions from those little appearances, which,
revealing a taste or habit, give at the same time some notion of a
character; on this occasion, however, his curiosity was at fault.
"Very good, sir," said the bailiff, when he had finished reading; "the
steward renews his recommendation, and tells me to attend implicitly to
your commands."
"Well, sir, they will amount to very little, and I shall not trouble you
long."
"It will be no trouble, but an honor."
"Nay, I know how much your time must be occupied, for, as soon as one
enters this chateau, one is struck with the good order and perfect
keeping of everything in it--which proves, my dear sir, what excellent
care you take of it."
"Oh, sir, you flatter me."
"Flatter you?--a poor old man like myself has something else to think
of. But to come to business: there is a room here which is called the
Green Chamber?"
"Yes, sir; the room which the late Count-Duke de Cardoville used for a
study."
"You will have the goodness to take me there."
"Unfortunately, it is not in my power to do so. After the death of the
Count-Duke, and when the seals were removed, a number of papers were
shut up in a cabinet in that room, and the lawyers took the keys with
them to Paris."
"Here are those keys," said M. Rodin, showing to the bailiff a large and
a small key tied together.
"Oh, sir! that is different. You come to look for papers?"
"Yes--for certain papers--and also far a small mahogany casket, with
silver clasps--do you happen to know it?"
"Yes, sir; I have often seen it on the count's writing-table. It must be
in the large, lacquered cabinet, of which you have the key."
"You will conduct me to this chamber, as authorized by the Princess de
Saint-Dizier?"
"Yes, sir; the princess continues in good health?"
"Perfectly so. She lives altogether above worldly things."
"And Mademoiselle Adrienne?"
"Alas, my dear sir!" said M. Rodin, with a sigh of deep contrition and
grief.
"Good heaven, sir! has any calamity happened to Mademoiselle Adrienne?"
"In what sense do you mean it?"
"Is she ill?"
"No, no--she is, unfortunately, as well as she is beautiful."
"Unfortunately!" cried the bailiff, in surprise.
"Alas, yes! for when beauty, youth, and health are joined to an evil
spirit of revolt and perversity--to a character which certainly has not
its equal upon earth--it would be far better to be deprived of those
dangerous advantages, which only become so many causes of perdition. But
I conjure you, my dear sir, let us talk of something else: this subject
is too painful," said M. Rodin, with a voice of deep emotion, lifting
the tip of his little finger to the corner of his right eye, as if to
stop a rising tear.
The bailiff did not see the tear, but he saw the gesture, and he was
struck with the change in M. Rodin's voice. He answered him, therefore,
with much sympathy: "Pardon my indiscretion, sir; I really did not
know--"
"It is I who should ask pardon for this involuntary display of
feeling--tears are so rare with old men--but if you had seen, as I have,
the despair of that excellent princess, whose only fault has been too
much kindness, too much weakness, with regard to her niece--by which she
has encouraged her--but, once more, let us talk of something else, my
dear sir!"
After a moment's pause, during which M. Rodin seemed to recover from his
emotion, he said to Dupont: "One part of my mission, my dear sir--that
which relates to the Green Chamber--I have now told you; but there
is yet another. Before coming to it, however, I must remind you of a
circumstance you have perhaps forgotten--namely, that some fifteen or
sixteen years ago, the Marquis d'Aigrigny, then colonel of the hussars
in garrison at Abbeville, spent some time in this house."
"Oh, sir! what a dashing officer was there! It was only just now, that
I was talking about him to my wife. He was the life of the house!--how
well he could perform plays--particularly the character of a scapegrace.
In the Two Edmonds, for instance, he would make you die with laughing,
in that part of a drunken soldier--and then, with what a charming voice
he sang Joconde, sir--better than they could sing it at Paris!"
Rodin, having listened complacently to the bailiff, said to him:
"You doubtless know that, after a fierce duel he had with a furious
Bonapartist, one General Simon, the Marquis d'Aigrigny (whose private
secretary I have now the honor to be) left the world for the church."
"No, sir! is it possible? That fine officer!"
"That fine officer--brave, noble, rich, esteemed, and
flattered--abandoned all those advantages for the sorry black gown; and,
notwithstanding his name, position, high connections, his reputation as
a great preacher, he is still what he was fourteen years ago--a plain
abbe--whilst so many, who have neither his merit nor his virtues, are
archbishops and cardinals."
M. Rodin expressed himself with so much goodness, with such an air of
conviction, and the facts he cited appeared to be so incontestable,
that M. Dupont could not help exclaiming: "Well, sir, that is splendid
conduct!"
"Splendid? Oh, no!" said M. Rodin, with an inimitable expression of
simplicity; "it is quite a matter of course when one has a heart like
M. d'Aigrigny's. But amongst all his good qualities, he has particularly
that of never forgetting worthy people--people of integrity, honor,
conscience--and therefore, my dear M. Dupont, he has not forgotten you."
"What, the most noble marquis deigns to remember--"
"Three days ago, I received a letter from him, in which he mentions your
name."
"Is he then at Paris?"
"He will be there soon, if not there now. He went to Italy about three
months ago, and, during his absence, he received a very sad piece of
news--the death of his mother, who was passing the autumn on one of the
estates of the Princess de Saint-Dizier."
"Oh, indeed! I was not aware of it."
"Yes, it was a cruel grief to him; but we must all resign ourselves to
the will of Providence!"
"And with regard to what subject did the marquis do me the honor to
mention my name?"
"I am going to tell you. First of all, you must know that this house
is sold. The bill of sale was signed the day before my departure from
Paris."
"Oh, sir! that renews all my uneasiness."
"Pray, why?"
"I am afraid that the new proprietors may not choose to keep me as their
bailiff."
"Now see what a lucky chance! It is just on that subject that I am going
to speak to you."
"Is it possible?"
"Certainly. Knowing the interest which the marquis feels for you, I am
particularly desirous that you should keep this place, and I will do all
in my power to serve you, if--"
"Ah, sir!" cried Dupont, interrupting Rodin; "what gratitude do I not
owe you! It is Heaven that sends you to me!'
"Now, my dear sir, you flatter me in your turn; but I ought to tell you,
that I'm obliged to annex a small condition to my support."
"Oh, by all means! Only name it, sir--name it!"
"The person who is about to inhabit this mansion, is an old lady in
every way worthy of veneration; Madame de la Sainte-Colombe is the name
of this respectable--"
"What, sir?" said the bailiff, interrupting Rodin; "Madame de la Sainte
Colombe the lady who has bought us out?"
"Do you know her?"
"Yes, sir, she came last week to see the estate. My wife persists that
she is a great lady; but--between ourselves--judging by certain words
that I heard her speak--"
"You are full of penetration, my dear M. Dupont. Madame de la Sainte
Colombe is far from being a great lady. I believe she was neither more
nor less than a milliner, under one of the wooden porticoes of the
Palais Royal. You see, that I deal openly with you."
"And she boasted of all the noblemen, French and foreign, who used to
visit her!"
"No doubt, they came to buy bonnets for their wives! However, the fact
is, that, having gained a large fortune and, after being in youth and
middle age--indifferent--alas! more than indifferent to the salvation