The Wandering Jew — Complete
mother had confided to his care. But, according to the priest's opinion,
the more terrible this anger might appear to her, the more she would
show her pious humility by exposing herself to it.
"God's will be done, father!" said she, in reply to her confessor.
"Whatever may happen, I wilt do my duty as a Christian--in obedience to
your commands."
"And the Lord will reward you for what you may have to suffer in the
accomplishment of this meritorious act. You promise then, before God,
that you will not answer any of your husband's questions, when he asks
you for the daughters of Marshal Simon?"
"Yes, father, I promise!" said Frances, with a shudder.
"And will preserve the same silence towards Marshal Simon himself, in
case he should return, before his daughters appear to me sufficiently
grounded in the faith to be restored to him?"
"Yes, father," said Frances, in a still fainter voice.
"You will come and give me an account of the scene that takes place
between you and your husband, upon his return?"
"Yes, father; when must I bring the orphans to your house?"
"In an hour. I will write to the superior, and leave the letter with my
housekeeper. She is a trusty person, and will conduct the young girls to
the convent."
After she had listened to the exhortations of her confessor, and
received absolution for her late sins, on condition of performing
penance, Dagobert's wife left the confessional.
The church was no longer deserted. An immense crowd pressed into it,
drawn thither by the pomp of the grand funeral of which the beadle
had spoken to the sacristan two hours before. It was with the greatest
difficulty that Frances could reach the door of the church, now hung
with sumptuous drapery.
What a contrast to the poor and humble train, which had that morning so
timidly presented themselves beneath the porch!
The numerous clergy of the parish, in full procession, advanced
majestically to receive the coffin covered with a velvet pall; the
watered silks and stuffs of their copes and stoles, their splendid
silvered embroideries, sparkled in the light of a thousand tapers. The
beadle strutted in all the glory of his brilliant uniform and flashing
epaulets; on the opposite side walked in high glee the sacristan,
carrying his whalebone staff with a magisterial air; the voice of the
choristers, now clad in fresh, white surplices, rolled out in bursts
of thunder; the trumpets' blare shook the windows; and upon the
countenances of all those who were to have a share in the spoils of this
rich corpse, this excellent corpse, this first-class corpse, a look
of satisfaction was visible, intense and yet subdued, which suited
admirably with the air and attitude of the two heirs, tall, vigorous
fellows with florid complexions, who, without overstepping the limits
of a charming modesty of enjoyment, seemed to cuddle and hug themselves
most comfortably in their mourning cloaks.
Notwithstanding her simplicity and pious faith, Dagobert's wife was
painfully impressed with this revolting difference between the reception
of the rich and the poor man's coffin at the door of the house of
God--for surely, if equality be ever real, it is in the presence of
death and eternity!
The two sad spectacles she had witnessed, tended still further to
depress the spirits of Frances. Having succeeded with no small trouble
in making her way out of the church, she hastened to return to the
Rue Brise-Miche, in order to fetch the orphans and conduct them to the
housekeeper of her confessor, who was in her turn to take them to St.
Mary's Convent, situated, as we know, next door to Dr. Baleinier's
lunatic-asylum, in which--Adrienne de Cardoville was confined.
CHAPTER XLIX. MY LORD AND SPOIL-SPORT.
The wife of Dagobert, having quitted the church, arrived at the corner
of the Rue Brise-Miche, when she was accosted by the distributor of
holy water; he came running out of breath, to beg her to return to Saint
Mery's, where the Abbe Dubois had yet something of importance to say to
her.
The moment Frances turned to go back, a hackney-coach stopped in front
of the house she inhabited. The coachman quitted his box to open the
door.
"Driver," said a stout woman dressed in black, who was seated in the
carriage, and held a pug-dog upon her knees, "ask if Mrs. Frances
Baudoin lives in this house."
"Yes, ma'am," said the coachman.
The reader will no doubt have recognized Mrs. Grivois, head
waiting-woman to the Princess de Saint-Dizier, accompanied by My Lord,
who exercised a real tyranny over his mistress. The dyer, whom we have
already seen performing the duties of a porter, being questioned by the
coachman as to the dwelling of Frances, came out of his workshop, and
advanced gallantly to the coach-door, to inform Mrs. Grivois, that
Frances Baudoin did in fact live in the house, but that she was at
present from home.
The arms, hands, and part of the face of Father Loriot were now of
a superb gold-color. The sight of this yellow personage singularly
provoked My Lord, and at the moment the dyer rested his hand upon the
edge of the coach-window, the cur began to yelp frightfully, and bit him
in the wrist.
"Oh! gracious heaven!" cried Mrs. Grivois, in an agony, whilst Father
Loriot, withdrew his hand with precipitation; "I hope there is nothing
poisonous in the dye that you have about you--my dog is so delicate!"
So saying, she carefully wiped the pug-nose, spotted with yellow. Father
Loriot, not at all satisfied with this speech, when he had expected to
receive some apology from Mrs. Grivois on account of her dog's behavior,
said to her, as with difficulty he restrained his anger: "If you did not
belong to the fair sex, which obliges me to respect you in the person
of that wretched animal I would have the pleasure of taking him by the
tail, and making him in one minute a dog of the brightest orange color,
by plunging him into my cauldron, which is already on the fire."
"Dye my pet yellow!" cried Mrs. Grivois, in great wrath, as she
descended from the hackney-coach, clasping My Lord tenderly to her
bosom, and surveying Father Loriot with a savage look.
"I told you, Mrs. Baudoin is not at home," said the dyer, as he saw the
pug-dog's mistress advance in the direction of the dark staircase.
"Never mind; I will wait for her," said Mrs. Grivois tartly. "On which
story does she live?"
"Up four pair!" answered Father Loriot, returning abruptly to his shop.
And he added to himself, with a chuckle at the anticipation: "I hope
Father Dagobert's big prowler will be in a bad humor, and give that
villainous pug a shaking by the skin of his neck."
Mrs. Grivois mounted the steep staircase with some difficulty, stopping
at every landing-place to take breath, and looking about her with
profound disgust. At length she reached the fourth story, and paused an
instant at the door of the humble chamber, in which the two sisters and
Mother Bunch then were.
The young sempstress was occupied in collecting the different articles
that she was about to carry to the pawnbroker's. Rose and Blanche seemed
happier, and somewhat less uneasy about the future; for they had learned
from Mother Bunch, that, when they knew how to sew, they might between
them earn eight francs a week, which would at least afford some
assistance to the family.
The presence of Mrs. Grivois in Baudoin's dwelling was occasioned by a
new resolution of Abbe d'Aigrigny and the Princess de Saint-Dizier; they
had thought it more prudent to send Mrs. Grivois, on whom they could
blindly depend, to fetch the young girls, and the confessor was charged
to inform Frances that it was not to his housekeeper, but to a lady
that would call on her with a note from him, that she was to deliver the
orphans, to be taken to a religious establishment.
Having knocked at the door, the waiting-woman of the Princess de Saint
Dizier entered the room, and asked for Frances Baudoin.
"She is not at home, madame," said Mother Bunch timidly, not a little
astonished at so unexpected a visit, and casting down her eyes before
the gaze of this woman.
"Then I will wait for her, as I have important affairs to speak of,"
answered Mrs. Grivois, examining with curiosity and attention the
faces of the two orphans, who also cast down their eyes with an air of
confusion.
So saying, Madame Grivois sat down, not without some repugnance, in the
old arm-chair of Dagobert's wife, and believing that she might now
leave her favorite at liberty, she laid him carefully on the floor.
Immediately, a low growl, deep and hollow, sounding from behind the
armchair, made Mrs. Grivois jump from her seat, and sent the pug-dog,
yelping with affright, and trembling through his fat, to take refuge
close to his mistress, with all the symptoms of angry alarm.
"What! is there a dog here?" cried Mrs. Grivois, stooping precipitately
to catch up My Lord, whilst, as if he wished himself to answer
the question, Spoil-sport rose leisurely from his place behind the
arm-chair, and appeared suddenly, yawning and stretching himself.
At sight of this powerful animal, with his double row of formidable
pointed fangs, which he seemed to take delight in displaying as he
opened his large jaws, Mrs. Grivois could not help giving utterance to
a cry of terror. The snappish pug had at first trembled in all his limbs
at the Siberian's approach; but, finding himself in safety on the lap
of his mistress, he began to growl insolently, and to throw the most
provoking glances at Spoil-sport. These the worthy companion of the
deceased Jovial answered disdainfully by gaping anew; after which he
went smelling round Mrs. Grivois with a sort of uneasiness, turned
his back upon My Lord, and stretched himself at the feet of Rose and
Blanche, keeping his large, intelligent eyes fixed upon them, as if he
foresaw that they were menaced with some danger.
"Turn out that beast," said Mrs. Grivois, imperiously; "he frightens my
dog, and may do him some harm."
"Do not be afraid, madame," replied Rose, with a smile; "Spoil-sport
will do no harm, if he is not attacked."
"Never mind!" cried Mrs. Grivois; "an accident soon happens. The very
sight of that enormous dog, with his wolf's head and terrible teeth, is
enough to make one tremble at the injuries he might do one. I tell you
to turn him out."
Mrs. Grivois had pronounced these last words in a tone of irritation,
which did not sound at all satisfactory in Spoil-sport's ears; so he
growled and showed his teeth, turning his head in the direction of the
stranger.
"Be quiet, Spoil-sport!" said Blanche sternly.
A new personage here entered the room, and put an end to this situation,
which was embarrassing enough for the two young girls. It was a
commissionaire, with a letter in his hand.
"What is it, sir?" asked Mother Bunch.
"A very pressing letter from the good man of the house; the dyer below
stairs told me to bring it up here."
"A letter from Dagobert!" cried Rose and Blanche, with a lively
expression of pleasure. "He is returned then? where is he?"
"I do not know whether the good man is called Dagobert or not," said
the porter; "but he is an old trooper, with a gray moustache, and may be
found close by, at the office of the Chartres coaches."
"That is he!" cried Blanche. "Give me the letter."
The porter handed it to the young girl, who opened it in all haste.
Mrs. Grivois was struck dumb with dismay; she knew that Dagobert had
been decoyed from Paris, that the Abbe Dubois might have an opportunity
to act with safety upon Frances. Hitherto, all had succeeded; the good
woman had consented to place the young girls in the hands of a religious
community--and now arrives this soldier, who was thought to be absent