The Wandering Jew — Complete
be to him a double recompense, justly deserved. But, no! for humble
labor that sustains the State, there is only forgetfulness, injustice,
indifference, and disdain!
By this neglect of the public, often aggravated by individual
selfishness and ingratitude, our workmen are placed in a deplorable
situation.
Some of them, notwithstanding their incessant toil, lead a life of
privations, and die before their time cursing the social system that
rides over them. Others find a temporary oblivion of their ills in
destructive intoxication. Others again--in great number--having no
interest, no advantage, no moral or physical inducement to do more or
better, confine themselves strictly to just that amount of labor which
will suffice to earn their wages. Nothing attaches them to their work,
because nothing elevates, honors, glorifies it in their eyes. They have
no defence against the reductions of indolence; and if, by some chance,
they find means of living awhile in repose, they give way by degrees to
habits of laziness and debauchery, and sometimes the worst passions soil
forever natures originally willing, healthy and honest--and all for
want of that protecting and equitable superintendence which should have
sustained, encouraged, and recompensed their first worthy and laborious
tendencies.
We now follow Mother Bunch, who after seeking for work from the person
that usually employed her, went to the Rue de Babylone, to the lodge
lately occupied by Adrienne de Cardoville.
CHAPTER V. FLORINE.
While the Bacchanal Queen and Sleepinbuff terminated so sadly the most
joyous portion of their existence, the sempstress arrived at the door of
the summer-house in the Rue de Babylone.
Before ringing she dried her tears; a new grief weighed upon her
spirits. On quitting the tavern, she had gone to the house of the person
who usually found her in work; but she was told that she could not have
any because it could be done a third more cheaply by women in prison.
Mother Bunch, rather than lose her last resource, offered to take it at
the third less; but the linen had been already sent out; and the
girl could not hope for employment for a fortnight to come, even if
submitting to this reduction of wages. One may conceive the anguish of
the poor creature; the prospect before her was to die of hunger, if
she would not beg or steal. As for her visit to the lodge in the Rue de
Babylone, it will be explained presently.
She rang the bell timidly; a few minutes after, Florine opened the door
to her. The waiting-maid was no longer adorned after the charming taste
of Adrienne; on the contrary, she was dressed with an affectation of
austere simplicity. She wore a high-necked dress of a dark color, made
full enough to conceal the light elegance of her figure. Her bands of
jet-black hair were hardly visible beneath the flat border of a starched
white cap, very much resembling the head-dress of a nun. Yet, in spite
of this unornamental costume, Florine's pale countenance was still
admirably beautiful.
We have said that, placed by former misconduct at the mercy of Rodin
and M. d'Aigrigny, Florine had served them as a spy upon her mistress,
notwithstanding the marks of kindness and confidence she had received
from her. Yet Florine was not entirely corrupted; and she often suffered
painful, but vain, remorse at the thought of the infamous part she was
thus obliged to perform.
At the sight of Mother Bunch, whom she recognized--for she had told
her, the day before, of Agricola's arrest and Mdlle. de Cardoville's
madness--Florine recoiled a step, so much was she moved with pity at the
appearance of the young sempstress. In fact, the idea of being thrown
out of work, in the midst of so many other painful circumstances, had
made a terrible impression upon the young workwoman, the traces of
recent tears furrowed her cheeks--without her knowing it, her features
expressed the deepest despair--and she appeared so exhausted, so weak,
so overcome, that Florine offered her arm to support her, and said to
her kindly: "Pray walk in and rest yourself; you are very pale, and seem
to be ill and fatigued."
So saying, Florine led her into a small room; with fireplace and carpet,
and made her sit down in a tapestried armchair by the side of a good
fire. Georgette and Hebe had been dismissed, and Florine was left alone
in care of the house.
When her guest was seated, Florine said to her with an air of interest:
"Will you not take anything? A little orange flower-water and sugar,
warm."
"I thank you, mademoiselle," said Mother Bunch, with emotion, so easily
was her gratitude excited by the least mark of kindness; she felt, too,
a pleasing surprise, that her poor garments had not been the cause of
repugnance or disdain on the part of Florine.
"I thank you, mademoiselle," said she, "but I only require a little
rest, for I come from a great distance. If you will permit me--"
"Pray rest yourself as long as you like, mademoiselle; I am alone in
this pavilion since the departure of my poor mistress,"--here Florine
blushed and sighed;--"so, pray make yourself quite at home. Draw near
the fire--you wilt be more comfortable--and, gracious! how wet your feet
are!--place them upon this stool."
The cordial reception given by Florine, her handsome face and agreeable
manners, which were not those of an ordinary waiting-maid, forcibly
struck Mother Bunch, who, notwithstanding her humble condition, was
peculiarly susceptible to the influence of everything graceful
and delicate. Yielding, therefore, to these attractions, the young
sempstress, generally so timid and sensitive, felt herself almost at her
ease with Florine.
"How obliging you are, mademoiselle!" said she in a grateful tone. "I am
quite confused with your kindness."
"I wish I could do you some greater service than offer you a place at
the fire, mademoiselle. Your appearance is so good and interesting."
"Oh, mademoiselle!" said the other, with simplicity, almost in spite
of herself; "it does one so much good to sit by a warm fire!" Then,
fearing, in her extreme delicacy, that she might be thought capable of
abusing the hospitality of her entertainer, by unreasonably prolonging
her visit, she added: "the motive that has brought me here is this.
Yesterday, you informed me that a young workman, named Agricola Baudoin,
had been arrested in this house."
"Alas! yes, mademoiselle. At the moment, too, when my poor mistress was
about to render him assistance."
"I am Agricola's adopted sister," resumed Mother Bunch, with a slight
blush; "he wrote to me yesterday evening from prison. He begged me to
tell his father to come here as soon as possible, in order to inform
Mdlle. de Cardoville that he, Agricola, had important matters to
communicate to her, or to any person that she might send; but that he
could not venture to mention them in a letter, as he did not know if
the correspondence of prisoners might not be read by the governor of the
prison."
"What!" said Florine, with surprise; "to my mistress, M. Agricola has
something of importance to communicate?"
"Yes, mademoiselle; for, up to this time, Agricola is ignorant of the
great calamity that has befallen Mdlle. de Cardoville."
"True; the attack was indeed so sudden," said Florine, casting down her
eyes, "that no one could have foreseen it."
"It must have been so," answered Mother Bunch; "for, when Agricola saw
Mdlle. de Cardoville for the first time, he returned home, struck with
her grace, and delicacy, and goodness."
"As were all who approached my mistress," said Florine, sorrowfully.
"This morning," resumed the sewing-girl, "when, according to Agricola's
instructions, I wished to speak to his father on the subject, I found
him already gone out, for he also is a prey to great anxieties; but
my adopted brother's letter appeared to me so pressing, and to involve
something of such consequence to Mdlle. de Cardoville, who had shown
herself so generous towards him, that I came here immediately."
"Unfortunately, as you already know, my mistress is no longer here."
"But is there no member of her family to whom, if I could not speak
myself, I might at least send word by you, that Agricola has something
to communicate of importance to this young lady?"
"It is strange!" said Florine, reflecting, and without replying. Then,
turning towards the sempstress, she added: "You are quite ignorant of
the nature of these revelations?"
"Completely so, mademoiselle; but I know Agricola. He is all honor and
truth, and you may believe whatever he affirms. Besides, he would have
no interest--"
"Good gracious!" interrupted Florine, suddenly, as if struck with a
sadden light; "I have just remembered something. When he was arrested
in a hiding-place where my mistress had concealed him, I happened to
be close at hand, and M. Agricola said to me, in a quick whisper: 'Tell
your generous mistress that her goodness to me will not go unrewarded,
and that my stay in that hiding-place may not be useless to her.'
That was all he could say to me, for they hurried him off instantly. I
confess that I saw in those words only the expression of his gratitude,
and his hope of proving it one day to my mistress; but now that I
connect them with the letter he has written you--" said Florine,
reflecting.
"Indeed!" remarked Mother Bunch, "there is certainly some connection
between his hiding-place here and the important secrets which he wishes
to communicate to your mistress, or one of her family."
"The hiding-place had neither been inhabited nor visited for some time,"
said Florine, with a thoughtful air; "M. Agricola may have found therein
something of interest to my mistress."
"If his letter had not appeared to me so pressing," resumed the other,
"I should not have come hither; but have left him to do so himself, on
his release from prison, which now, thanks to the generosity of one of
his old fellow-workmen, cannot be very distant. But, not knowing if
bail would be accepted to-day, I have wished faithfully to perform his
instructions. The generous kindness of your mistress made it my first
duty."
Like all persons whose better instincts are still roused from time to
time, Florine felt a sort of consolation in doing good whenever she
could with impunity--that is to say, without exposing herself to the
inexorable resentments of those on whom she depended. Thanks to Mother
Bunch, she might now have an opportunity of rendering a great service to
her mistress. She knew enough of the Princess de Saint-Dizier's hatred
of her niece, to feel certain that Agricola's communication could not,
from its very importance, be made with safety to any but Mdlle. de
Cardoville herself. She therefore said very gravely: "Listen to me,
mademoiselle! I will give you a piece of advice which will, I think, be
useful to my poor mistress--but which would be very fatal to me if you
did not attend to my recommendations."
"How so, mademoiselle?" said the hunchback, looking at Florine with
extreme surprise.
"For the sake of my mistress, M. Agricola must confide to no one, except
herself, the important things he has to communicate."
"But, if he cannot see Mdlle. Adrienne, may he not address himself to
some of her family?"
"It is from her family, above all, that he must conceal whatever he
knows. Mdlle. Adrienne may recover, and then M. Agricola can speak to
her. But should she never get well again, tell your adopted brother that
it is better for him to keep his secret than to place it (which would
infallibly happen) at the disposal of the enemies of my mistress."
"I understand you, mademoiselle," said Mother Bunch, sadly. "The family
of your generous mistress do not love her, and perhaps persecute her?"