The Wandering Jew — Complete
new pleasure for me to see you to-morrow morning at daybreak. It will be
like seeing you for the first time twice." The door of Agricola's garret
being now closed, Mother Bunch heard nothing more.
The poor girl, without undressing, threw herself upon the bed, and
closed not an eye during the night, painfully awaiting the appearance of
day, in order that she might watch over the safety of Agricola. However,
in spite of her vivid anxieties for the morrow, she sometimes allowed
herself to sink into the reveries of a bitter melancholy. She compared
the conversation she had just had in the silence of night, with the man
whom she secretly adored, with what that conversation might have been,
had she possessed some share of charms and beauty--had she been loved as
she loved, with a chaste and devoted flame! But soon sinking into belief
that she should never know the ravishing sweets of a mutual passion, she
found consolation in the hope of being useful to Agricola. At the dawn
of day, she rose softly, and descended the staircase with little noise,
in order to see if anything menaced Agricola from without.
CHAPTER XXXII. THE AWAKENING.
The weather, damp and foggy during a portion of the night, became clear
and cold towards morning. Through the glazed skylight of Agricola's
garret, where he lay with his father, a corner of the blue sky could be
seen.
The apartment of the young blacksmith had an aspect as poor as the
sewing-girl's. For its sole ornament, over the deal table upon which
Agricola wrote his poetical inspirations, there hung suspended from a
nail in the wall a portrait of Beranger--that immortal poet whom the
people revere and cherish, because his rare and transcendent genius has
delighted to enlighten the people, and to sing their glories and their
reverses.
Although the day had only begun to dawn, Dagobert and Agricola had
already risen. The latter had sufficient self command to conceal his
inquietude, for renewed reflection had again increased his fears.
The recent outbreak in the Rue des Prouvaires had caused a great number
of precautionary arrests; and the discovery of numerous copies
of Agricola's song, in the possession of one of the chiefs of the
disconcerted plot, was, in truth, calculated slightly to compromise the
young blacksmith. His father, however, as we have already mentioned,
suspected not his secret anguish. Seated by the side of his son, upon
the edge of their mean little bed, the old soldier, by break of day,
had dressed and shaved with military care; he now held between his hands
both those of Agricola, his countenance radiant with joy, and unable to
discontinue the contemplation of his boy.
"You will laugh at me, my dear boy," said Dagobert to his son; "but I
wished the night to the devil, in order that I might gaze upon you in
full day, as I now see you. But all in good time; I have lost nothing.
Here is another silliness of mine; it delights me to see you wear
moustaches. What a splendid horse-grenadier you would have made! Tell
me; have you never had a wish to be a soldier?"
"I thought of mother!"
"That's right," said Dagobert: "and besides, I believe, after all, look
ye, that the time of the sword has gone by. We old fellows are now good
for nothing, but to be put in a corner of the chimney. Like rusty old
carbines, we have had our day."
"Yes; your days of heroism and of glory," said Agricola with excitement;
and then he added, with a voice profoundly softened and agitated, "it is
something good and cheering to be your son!"
"As to the good, I know nothing of that," replied Dagobert; "but as for
the cheering, it ought to be so; for I love you proudly. And I think
this is but the beginning! What say you, Agricola? I am like the
famished wretches who have been some days without food. It is but by
little and little that they recover themselves, and can eat. Now, you
may expect to be tasted, my boy, morning and evening, and devoured
during the day. No, I wish not to think that--not all the day--no, that
thought dazzles and perplexes me; and I am no longer myself."
These words of Dagobert caused a painful feeling to Agricola. He
believed that they sprang from a presentiment of the separation with
which he was menaced.
"Well," continued Dagobert; "you are quite happy; M. Hardy is always
good to you."
"Oh!" replied Agricola: "there is none in the world better, or more
equitable and generous! If you knew what wonders he has brought about
in his factory! Compared to all others, it is a paradise beside the
stithies of Lucifer!"
"Indeed!" said Dagobert.
"You shall see," resumed Agricola, "what welfare, what joy, what
affection, are displayed upon the countenances of all whom he employs;
who work with an ardent pleasure.
"This M. Hardy of yours must be an out-and-out magician," said Dagobert.
"He is, father, a very great magician. He has known how to render labor
pleasant and attractive. As for the pleasure, over and above good wages,
he accords to us a portion of his profits according to our deserts;
whence you may judge of the eagerness with which we go to work. And that
is not all: he has caused large, handsome buildings to be erected, in
which all his workpeople find, at less expense than elsewhere, cheerful
and salubrious lodgings, in which they enjoy all the advantages of an
association. But you shall see--I repeat--you shall see!"
"They have good reason to say, that Paris is the region of wonders,"
observed Dagobert.
"Well, behold me here again at last, never more to quit you, nor good
mother!"
"No, father, we will never separate again," said Agricola, stifling a
sigh. "My mother and I will both try to make you forget all that you
have suffered."
"Suffered!" exclaimed Dagobert, "who the deuce has suffered? Look me
well in the face; and see if I have a look of suffering! Bombs and
bayonets! Since I have put my foot here, I feel myself quite a young man
again! You shall see me march soon: I bet that I tire you out! You must
rig yourself up something extra! Lord, how they will stare at us! I
wager that in beholding your black moustache and my gray one, folks will
say, behold father and son! But let us settle what we are to do with the
day. You will write to the father of Marshal Simon, informing him the
his grand-daughters have arrived, and that it is necessary that he
should hasten his return to Paris; for he has charged himself with
matters which are of great importance for them. While you are writing,
I will go down to say good-morning to my wife, and to the dear little
ones. We will then eat a morsel. Your mother will go to mass; for I
perceive that she likes to be regular at that: the good soul! no great
harm, if it amuse her! and during her absence, we will make a raid
together."
"Father," said Agricola, with embarrassment, "this morning it is out of
my power to accompany you."
"How! out of your power?" said Dagobert; "recollect this is Monday!"
"Yes, father," said Agricola, hesitatingly; "but I have promised to
attend all the morning in the workshop, to finish a job that is required
in a hurry. If I fail to do so, I shall inflict some injury upon M.
Hardy. But I'll soon be at liberty."
"That alters the case," said Dagobert, with a sigh of regret. "I thought
to make my first parade through Paris with you this morning; but it must
be deferred in favor of your work. It is sacred: since it is that which
sustains your mother. Nevertheless, it is vexatious, devilish vexatious.
And yet no--I am unjust. See how quickly one gets habituated to and
spoilt by happiness. I growl like a true grumbler, at a walk being put
off for a few hours! I do this! I who, during eighteen years, have only
hoped to see you once more, without daring to reckon very much upon
it! Oh! I am but a silly old fool! Vive l'amour et cogni--I mean--my
Agricola!" And, to console himself, the old soldier gayly slapped his
son's shoulder.
This seemed another omen of evil to the blacksmith; for he dreaded one
moment to another lest the fears of Mother Bunch should be realized.
"Now that I have recovered myself," said Dagobert, laughing, "let
us speak of business. Know you where I find the addresses of all the
notaries in Paris?"
"I don't know; but nothing is more easy than to discover it."
"My reason is," resumed Dagobert, "that I sent from Russia by post, and
by order of the mother of the two children that I have brought here,
some important papers to a Parisian notary. As it was my duty to see
this notary immediately upon my arrival, I had written his name and his
address in a portfolio, of which however, I have been robbed during my
journey; and as I have forgotten his devil of a name, it seems to me,
that if I should see it again in the list of notaries, I might recollect
it."
Two knocks at the door of the garret made Agricola start. He
involuntarily thought of a warrant for his apprehension.
His father, who, at the sound of the knocking turned round his head, had
not perceived his emotion, and said with a loud voice: "Come in!" The
door opened. It was Gabriel. He wore a black cassock and a broad brimmed
hat.
To recognize his brother by adoption, and to throw himself into his
arms, were two movements performed at once by Agricola--as quick as
thought.--"My brother!" exclaimed Agricola.
"Agricola!" cried Gabriel.
"Gabriel!" responded the blacksmith.
"After so long an absence!" said the one.
"To behold you again!" rejoined the other.
Such were the words exchanged between the blacksmith and the missionary,
while they were locked in a close embrace.
Dagobert, moved and charmed by these fraternal endearments, felt his
eyes become moist. There was something truly touching in the affection
of the young men--in their hearts so much alike, and yet of characters
and aspects so very different--for the manly countenance of Agricola
contrasted strongly with the delicacy and angelic physiognomy of
Gabriel.
"I was forewarned by my father of your arrival," said the blacksmith at
length. "I have been expecting to see you; and my happiness has been
a hundred times the greater, because I have had all the pleasures of
hoping for it."
"And my good mother?" asked Gabriel, in affectionately grasping the
hands of Dagobert. "I trust that you have found her in good health."
"Yes, my brave boy!" replied Dagobert; "and her health will have become
a hundred times better, now that we are all together. Nothing is so
healthful as joy." Then addressing himself to Agricola, who, forgetting
his fear of being arrested, regarded the missionary with an expression
of ineffable affection, Dagobert added:
"Let it be remembered, that, with the soft cheek of a young girl,
Gabriel has the courage of a lion; I have already told with what
intrepidity he saved the lives of Marshal Simon's daughters, and tried
to save mine also."
"But, Gabriel! what has happened to your forehead?" suddenly exclaimed
Agricola, who for a few seconds had been attentively examining the
missionary.
Gabriel, having thrown aside his hat on entering, was now directly
beneath the skylight of the garret apartment, the bright light through
which shone upon his sweet, pale countenance: and the round scar,
which extended from one eyebrow to the other, was therefore distinctly
visible.
In the midst of the powerful and diversified emotion, and of the
exciting events which so rapidly followed the shipwreck on the rocky
coast near Cardoville House, Dagobert, during the short interview he
then had with Gabriel, had not perceived the scar which seamed the
forehead of the young missionary. Now, partaking, however, of the
surprise of his son, Dagobert said:
"Aye, indeed! how came this scar upon your brow?"
"And on his hands, too; see, dear father!" exclaimed the blacksmith,