The Wandering Jew — Complete
requests it! But the name--the name of this dear prince! Once more, what
a singular event is this! If it should turn out to be that cousin from
beyond the Ganges! During my childhood, I have heard so much in praise
of his royal father! Oh! I shall be quite ravished to give his son the
kind reception which he merits!" And then she read on:
"If, besides this small sum, honored madame, you are so kind as to
give him, and also his companion, the means of reaching Paris, you
will confer a very great service upon this poor young prince, who is at
present so unfortunate.
"To conclude, I know enough of your delicacy to be aware that it would
perhaps be agreeable to you to afford this succor to the prince without
being known as his benefactress; in which case, I beg that you will be
pleased to command me; and you may rely upon my discretion. If, on the
contrary, you wish to address it directly to himself, his name is, as it
has been written for me by his countrymen, Prince Djalma, son of Radja
sing, King of Mundi."
"Djalma!" said Adrienne, quickly, and appearing to call up her
recollections, "Radja-sing! Yes--that is it! These are the very names
that my father so often repeated, while telling me that there was
nothing more chivalric or heroic in the world than the old king, our
relation by marriage; and the son has not derogated, it would seem, from
that character. Yes, Djalma, Radja-sing--once more, that is it--such
names are not so common," she added, smiling, "that one should either
forget or confound them with others. This Djalma is my cousin! Brave
and good--young and charming! above all, he has never worn the
horrid European dress! And destitute of every resource! This is quite
ravishing! It is too much happiness at once! Quick, quick let us
improvise a pretty fairy tale, of which the handsome and beloved prince
shall be the hero! The poor bird of the golden and azure plumage has
wandered into our dismal climate; but he will find here, at least,
something to remind him of his native region of sunshine and perfumes!"
Then, addressing one of her women, she said: "Georgette, take paper and
write, my child!" The young girl went to the gilt, illuminated table,
which contained materials for writing; and, having seated herself, she
said to her mistress: "I await orders."
Adrienne de Cardoville, whose charming countenance was radiant with the
gayety of happiness and joy, proceeded to dictate the following letter
to a meritorious old painter, who had long since taught her the arts of
drawing and designing; in which arts she excelled, as indeed she did in
all others:
"MY DEAR TITIAN, MY GOOD VERONESE, MY WORTHY RAPHAEL.
"You can render me a very great service,--and you will do it, I am
sure, with that perfect and obliging complaisance by which you are ever
distinguished.
"It is to go immediately and apply yourself to the skillful hand who
designed my last costumes of the fifteenth century. But the present
affair is to procure modern East Indian dresses for a young man--yes,
sir--for a young man,--and according to what I imagine of him, I fancy
that you can cause his measure to be taken from the Antinous, or rather,
from the Indian Bacchus; yes--that will be more likely.
"It is necessary that these vestments be at once of perfect propriety
and correctness, magnificently rich, and of the greatest elegance. You
will choose the most beautiful stuffs possible; and endeavor, above all
things, that they be, or resemble, tissues of Indian manufacture; and
you will add to them, for turbans and sashes, six splendid long cashmere
shawls, two of them white, two red, and two orange; as nothing suits
brown complexions better than those colors.
"This done (and I allow you at the utmost only two or three days), you
will depart post in my carriage for Cardoville Manor House, which
you know so well. The steward, the excellent Dupont, one of your old
friends, will there introduce you to a young Indian Prince, named
Djalma; and you will tell that most potent grave, and reverend signior,
of another quarter of the globe, that you have come on the part of an
unknown friend, who, taking upon himself the duty of a brother, sends
him what is necessary to preserve him from the odious fashions
of Europe. You will add, that his friend expects him with so much
impatience that he conjures him to come to Paris immediately. If he
objects that he is suffering, you will tell him that my carriage is an
excellent bed-closet; and you will cause the bedding, etc., which it
contains, to be fitted up, till he finds it quite commodious. Remember
to make very humble excuses for the unknown friend not sending to the
prince either rich palanquins, or even, modestly, a single elephant;
for alas! palanquins are only to be seen at the opera; and there are
no elephants but those in the menagerie,--though this must make us seem
strangely barbarous in his eyes.
"As soon as you shall have decided on your departure, perform the
journey as rapidly as possible, and bring here, into my house, in the
Rue de Babylone (what predestination! that I should dwell in the street
of BABYLON,--a name which must at least accord with the ear of an
Oriental),--you will bring hither, I say, this dear prince, who is so
happy as to have been born in a country of flowers, diamonds, and sun!
"Above all, you will have the kindness, my old and worthy friend, not
to be at all astonished at this new freak, and refrain from indulging in
extravagant conjectures. Seriously, the choice which I have made of you
in this affair,--of you, whom I esteem and most sincerely honor,--is
because it is sufficient to say to you that, at the bottom of all this,
there is something more than a seeming act of folly."
In uttering these last words, the tone of Adrienne was as serious and
dignified as it had been previously comic and jocose. But she quickly
resumed, more gayly, dictating to Georgette.
"Adieu, my old friend. I am something like that commander of ancient
days, whose heroic nose and conquering chin you have so often made me
draw: I jest with the utmost freedom of spirit even in the moment
of battle: yes, for within an hour I shall give battle, a pitched
battle--to my dear pew-dwelling aunt. Fortunately, audacity and courage
never failed me, and I burn with impatience for the engagement with my
austere princess.
"A kiss, and a thousand heartfelt recollections to your excellent wife.
If I speak of her here, who is so justly respected, you will please to
understand, it is to make you quite at ease as to the consequences of
this running away with, for my sake, a charming young prince,--for it is
proper to finish well where I should have begun, by avowing to you that
he is charming indeed!
"Once more, adieu!"
Then, addressing Georgette, said she, "Have you done writing, chit?"
"Yes, madame."
"Oh, add this postscript."
"P.S.--I send you draft on sight on my banker for all expenses. Spare
nothing. You know I am quite a grand seigneur. I must use this masculine
expression, since your sex have exclusively appropriated to yourselves
(tyrants as you are) a term, so significant as it is of noble
generosity."
"Now, Georgette," said Adrienne; "bring me an envelope, and the letter,
that I may sign it." Mademoiselle de Cardoville took the pen that
Georgette presented to her, signed the letter, and enclosed in it an
order upon her banker, which was expressed thus:
"Please pay M. Norval, on demand without grace, the sum of money he may
require for expenses incurred on my account.
"ADRIENNE DE CARDOVILLE."
During all this scene, while Georgette wrote, Florine and Hebe had
continued to busy themselves with the duties of their mistress's
toilette, who had put off her morning gown, and was now in full dress,
in order to wait upon the princess, her aunt. From the sustained and
immovably fixed attention with which Florine had listened to Adrienne's
dictating to Georgette her letter to M. Norval, it might easily have
been seen that, as was her habit indeed, she endeavored to retain in her
memory even the slightest words of her mistress.
"Now, chit," said Adrienne to Hebe, "send this letter immediately to M.
Norval."
The same silver bell was again rung from without. Hebe moved towards the
door of the dressing-room, to go and inquire what it was, and also
to execute the order of her mistress as to the letter. But Florine
precipitated herself, so to speak, before her, and so as to prevent her
leaving the apartment; and said to Adrienne:
"Will it please my lady for me to send this letter? I have occasion to
go to the mansion."
"Go, Florine, then," said Adrienne, "seeing that you wish it. Georgette,
seal the letter."
At the end of a second or two, during which Georgette had sealed the
letter, Hebe returned.
"Madame," said she, re-entering, "the working-man who brought back
Frisky yesterday, entreats you to admit him for an instant. He is very
pale, and he appears quite sad."
"Would that he may already have need of me! I should be too happy!" said
Adrienne gayly. "Show the excellent young man into the little saloon.
And, Florine, despatch this letter immediately."
Florine went out. Miss de Cardoville, followed by Frisky, entered the
little reception-room, where Agricola awaited her.
CHAPTER XXXV. THE INTERVIEW.
When Adrienne de Cardoville entered the saloon where Agricola expected
her, she was dressed with extremely elegant simplicity. A robe of
deep blue, perfectly fitted to her shape, embroidered in front with
interlacings of black silk, according to the then fashion, outlined
her nymph-like figure, and her rounded bosom. A French cambric collar,
fastened by a large Scotch pebble, set as a brooch, served her for a
necklace. Her magnificent golden hair formed a framework for her fair
countenance, with an incredible profusion of long and light spiral
tresses, which reached nearly to her waist.
Agricola, in order to save explanations with his father, and to make him
believe that he had indeed gone to the workshop of M. Hardy, had been
obliged to array himself in his working dress; he had put on a new
blouse though, and the collar of his shirt, of stout linen, very white,
fell over upon a black cravat, negligently tied; his gray trousers
allowed his well polished boots to be seen; and he held between his
muscular hands a cap of fine woolen cloth, quite new. To sum up, his
blue blouse, embroidered with red, showing off the nervous chest of the
young blacksmith, and indicating his robust shoulders, falling down
in graceful folds, put not the least constraint upon his free and easy
gait, and became him much better than either frock-coat or dress-coat
would have done. While awaiting Miss de Cardoville, Agricola
mechanically examined a magnificent silver vase, admirably graven. A
small tablet, of the same metal, fitted into a cavity of its antique
stand, bore the words--"Chased by JEAN MARIE, working chaser, 1831."
Adrienne had stepped so lightly upon the carpet of her saloon, only
separated from another apartment by the doors, that Agricola had not
perceived the young lady's entrance. He started, and turned quickly
round, upon hearing a silver and brilliant voice say to him-"That is a
beautiful vase, is it not, sir?"
"Very beautiful, madame," answered Agricola greatly embarrassed.
"You may see from it that I like what is equitable." added Miss de
Cardoville, pointing with her finger to the little silver tablet;--"an
artist puts his name upon his painting; an author publishes his on the
title-page of his book; and I contend that an artisan ought also to have
his name connected with his workmanship."
"Oh, madame, so this name?"
"Is that of the poor chaser who executed this masterpiece, at the order