The Wandering Jew — Complete
heard a gentle tap at the door of the garret apartment, which renewed
the fears that Agricola had forgotten since the arrival of his adopted
brother. "Agricola," said a sweet voice outside the door, "I wish to
speak with you as soon as possible."
The blacksmith recognized Mother Bunch's voice, and opened the door.
But the young sempstress, instead of entering, drew back into the dark
passage, and said, with a voice of anxiety: "Agricola, it is an hour
since broad day, and you have not yet departed! How imprudent! I have
been watching below, in the street, until now, and have seen nothing
alarming; but they may come any instant to arrest you. Hasten, I conjure
you, your departure for the abode of Miss de Cardoville. Not a minute
should be lost."
"Had it not been for the arrival of Gabriel, I should have been gone.
But I could not resist the happiness of remaining some little time with
him."
"Gabriel here!" said Mother Bunch, with sweet surprise; for, as has been
stated, she had been brought up with him and Agricola.
"Yes," answered Agricola, "for half an hour he has been with my father
and me."
"What happiness I shall have in seeing him again," said the sewing-girl.
"He doubtless came upstairs while I had gone for a brief space to your
mother, to ask if I could be useful in any way on account of the young
ladies; but they have been so fatigued that they still sleep. Your
mother has requested me to give you this letter for your father. She has
just received it."
"Thanks."
"Well," resumed Mother Bunch, "now that you have seen Gabriel, do not
delay long. Think what a blow it would be for your father, if they came
to arrest you in his very presence mon Dieu!"
"You are right," said Agricola; "it is indispensable that I should
depart--while near Gabriel in spite of my anxiety, my fears were
forgotten."
"Go quickly, then; and if Miss de Cardoville should grant this favor,
perhaps in a couple of hours you will return, quite at ease both as to
yourself and us."
"True! a very few minutes more; and I'll come down."
"I return to watch at the door. If I perceive anything. I'll come up
again to apprise you. But pray, do not delay."
"Be easy, good sister." Mother Bunch hurriedly descended the staircase,
to resume her watch at the street door, and Agricola re-entered his
garret. "Dear father," he said to Dagobert, "my mother has just received
this letter, and she requests you to read it."
"Very well; read it for me, my boy." And Agricola read as follows:
"MADAME.--I understand that your husband has been charged by General
Simon with an affair of very great importance. Will you, as soon as your
husband arrives in Paris, request him to come to my office at Chartres
without a moment's delay. I am instructed to deliver to himself, and
to no other person, some documents indispensable to the interests of
General Simon.
"DURAND, Notary at Chartres."
Dagobert looked at his son with astonishment, and said to him, "Who can
have told this gentleman already of my arrival in Paris?"
"Perhaps, father," said Agricola, "this is the notary to whom you
transmitted some papers, and whose address you have lost."
"But his name was not Durand; and I distinctly recollect that his
address was Paris, not Chartres. And, besides," said the soldier,
thoughtfully, "if he has some important documents, why didn't he
transmit them to me?"
"It seems to me that you ought not to neglect going to him as soon as
possible," said Agricola, secretly rejoiced that this circumstance
would withdraw his father for about two days, during which time his
(Agricola's) fate would be decided in one way or other.
"Your counsel is good," replied his father.
"This thwarts your intentions in some degree?" asked Gabriel.
"Rather, my lads; for I counted upon passing the day with you. However,
'duty before everything.' Having come happily from Siberia to Paris,
it is not for me to fear a journey from Paris to Chartres, when it is
required on an affair of importance. In twice twenty-four hours I shall
be back again. But the deuce take me if I expected to leave Paris for
Chartres to-day. Luckily, I leave Rose and Blanche with my good wife;
and Gabriel, their angel, as they call him, will be here to keep them
company."
"That is, unfortunately, impossible," said the missionary, sadly. "This
visit on my arrival is also a farewell visit."
"A farewell visit! Now!" exclaimed Dagobert and Agricola both at once.
"Alas, yes!"
"You start already on another mission?" said Dagobert; "surely it is not
possible?"
"I must answer no question upon this subject," said Gabriel, suppressing
a sigh: "but from now, for some time, I cannot, and ought not, come
again into this house."
"Why, my brave boy," resumed Dagobert with emotion, "there is something
in thy conduct that savors of constraint, of oppression. I know
something of men. He you call superior, whom I saw for some moments
after the shipwreck at Cardoville Castle, has a bad look; and I am sorry
to see you enrolled under such a commander."
"At Cardoville Castle!" exclaimed Agricola, struck with the identity
of the name with that of the young lady of the golden hair; "was it in
Cardoville Castle that you were received after your shipwreck?"
"Yes, my boy; why, does that astonish you?" asked Dagobert.
"Nothing father; but were the owners of the castle there at the time?"
"No; for the steward, when I applied to him for an opportunity to return
thanks for the kind hospitality we had experienced, informed me that the
person to whom the house belonged was resident at Paris."
"What a singular coincidence," thought Agricola, "if the young lady
should be the proprietor of the dwelling which bears her name!"
This reflection having recalled to Agricola the promise which he had
made to Mother Bunch, he said to Dagobert; "Dear father, excuse me; but
it is already late, and I ought to be in the workshop by eight o'clock."
"That is too true, my boy. Let us go. This party is adjourned till my
return from Chartres. Embrace me once more, and take care of yourself."
Since Dagobert had spoken of constraint and oppression to Gabriel, the
latter had continued pensive. At the moment when Agricola approached
him to shake hands, and to bid him adieu, the missionary said to him
solemnly, with a grave voice, and in a tone of decision that astonished
both the blacksmith and the soldier: "My dear brother, one word more. I
have come here to say to you also that within a few days hence I shall
have need of you; and of you also, my father (permit me so to call
you)," added Gabriel, with emotion, as he turned round to Dagobert.
"How! you speak thus to us!" exclaimed Agricola; "what is the matter?"
"Yes," replied Gabriel, "I need the advice and assistance of two men of
honor--of two men of resolution;--and I can reckon upon you two--can I
not? At any hour, on whatever day it may be, upon a word from me, will
you come?"
Dagobert and his son regarded each other in silence, astonished at the
accents of the missionary. Agricola felt an oppression of the heart. If
he should be a prisoner when his brother should require his assistance,
what could be done?
"At every hour, by night or by day, my brave boy, you may depend upon
us," said Dagobert, as much surprised as interested--"You have a father
and a brother; make your own use of them."
"Thanks, thanks," said Gabriel, "you set me quite at ease."
"I'll tell you what," resumed the soldier, "were it not for your
priest's robe, I should believe, from the manner in which you have
spoken to us, that you are about to be engaged in a duel--in a mortal
combat."
"In a duel?" said Gabriel, starting. "Yes; it may be a duel--uncommon
and fearful--at which it is necessary to have two witnesses such as
you--A FATHER and A BROTHER!"
Some instants afterwards, Agricola, whose anxiety was continually
increasing, set off in haste for the dwelling of Mademoiselle de
Cardoville, to which we now beg leave to take the reader.
CHAPTER XXXIII. THE PAVILION.
Dizier House was one of the largest and handsomest in the Rue Babylone,
in Paris. Nothing could be more severe, more imposing, or more
depressing than the aspect of this old mansion. Several immense windows,
filled with small squares of glass, painted a grayish white, increased
the sombre effect of the massive layers of huge stones, blackened by
time, of which the fabric was composed.
This dwelling bore a resemblance to all the others that had been erected
in the same quarter towards the middle of the last century. It was
surmounted in front by a pediment; it had an elevated ground floor,
which was reached from the outside by a circular flight of broad stone
steps. One of the fronts looked on an immense court-yard, on each side
of which an arcade led to the vast interior departments. The other front
overlooked the garden, or rather park, of twelve or fifteen roods; and,
on this side, wings, approaching the principal part of the structure,
formed a couple of lateral galleries. Like nearly all the other great
habitations of this quarter, there might be seen at the extremity of the
garden, what the owners and occupiers of each called the lesser mansion.
This extension was a Pompadour summer-house, built in the form of a
rotunda, with the charming though incorrect taste of the era of its
erection. It presented, in every part where it was possible for the
stones to be cut, a profusion of endives, knots of ribbons, garlands
of flowers, and chubby cupids. This pavilion, inhabited by Adrienne
de Cardoville was composed of a ground floor, which was reached by a
peristyle of several steps. A small vestibule led to a circular hall,
lighted from the roof. Four principal apartments met here; and ranges of
smaller rooms, concealed in the upper story, served for minor purposes.
These dependencies of great habitations are in our days disused, or
transformed into irregular conservatories; but by an uncommon exception,
the black exterior of the pavilion had been scraped and renewed, and
the entire structure repaired. The white stones of which it was built
glistened like Parian marble; and its renovated, coquettish aspect
contrasted singularly with the gloomy mansion seen at the other
extremity of an extensive lawn, on which were planted here and there
gigantic clumps of verdant trees.
The following scene occurred at this residence on the morning following
that of the arrival of Dagobert, with the daughters of Marshal Simon, in
the Rue Brise-Miche. The hour of eight had sounded from the steeple of a
neighboring church; a brilliant winter sun arose to brighten a pure blue
sky behind the tall leafless trees, which in summer formed a dome of
verdure over the summer-house. The door in the vestibule opened, and the
rays of the morning sun beamed upon a charming creature, or rather upon
two charming creatures, for the second one, though filling a modest
place in the scale of creation, was not less distinguished by beauty of
its own, which was very striking. In plain terms two individuals, one of
them a young girl, and the other a tiny English dog, of great beauty,
of that breed of spaniels called King Charles's, made their appearance
under the peristyle of the rotunda. The name of the young girl was
Georgette; the beautiful little spaniel's was Frisky. Georgette was in
her eighteenth year. Never had Florine or Manton, never had a lady's
maid of Marivaux, a more mischievous face, an eye more quick, a smile
more roguish, teeth more white, cheeks more roseate, figure more
coquettish, feet smaller, or form smarter, attractive, and enticing.
Though it was yet very early, Georgette was carefully and tastefully
dressed. A tiny Valenciennes cap, with flaps and flap-band, of half