The Wandering Jew — Complete
press-room, and there you will find Florine. She will show you the way
out. Adieu, my dear daughter!"
As soon as Mother Bunch had left the presence of the superior, her
tears, until now restrained, gushed forth abundantly. Not wishing to
appear before Florine and the nuns in this state, she stopped a moment
at one of the windows to dry her eyes. As she looked mechanically
towards the windows of the next house, where she fancied she had seen
Adrienne de Cardoville, she beheld the latter come from a door in the
building, and advance rapidly towards the open paling that separated the
two gardens. At the same instant, and to her great astonishment, Mother
Bunch saw one of the two sisters whose disappearance had caused the
despair of Dagobert, with pale and dejected countenance, approach the
fence that separated her from Mdlle. de Cardoville, trembling with fear
and anxiety, as though she dreaded to be discovered.
CHAPTER VIII. MOTHER BUNCH AND MDLLE. DE CARDOVILLE.
Agitated, attentive, uneasy, leaning from one of the convent-windows,
the work-girl followed with her eyes the movements of Mdlle. de
Cardoville and Rose Simon, whom she so little expected to find together
in such a place. The orphan, approaching close to the fence, which
separated the nunnery-garden from that of Dr. Baleinier's asylum, spoke
a few words to Adrienne, whose features at once expressed astonishment,
indignation, and pity. At this juncture, a nun came running, and
looking right and left, as though anxiously seeking for some one; then,
perceiving Rose, who timidly pressed close to the paling, she seized her
by the arm, and seemed to scold her severely, and notwithstanding some
energetic words addressed to her by Mdlle. de Cardoville, she hastily
carried off the orphan, who with weeping eyes, turned several times to
look back at Adrienne; whilst the latter, after showing the interest
she took in her by expressive gestures, turned away suddenly, as if to
conceal her tears.
The passage in which the witness stood, during this touching scene, was
situated on the first story. The thought immediately occurred to the
sempstress, to go down to the ground-floor, and try to get into the
garden, so that she might have an opportunity of speaking to the fair
girl with the golden hair, and ascertaining if it were really Mdlle. de
Cardoville, to whom; if she found her in a lucid interval, she might say
that Agricola had things of the greatest importance to communicate, but
that he did not know how to inform her of them. The day was advancing,
the sun was on its decline, and fearing that Florine would be tired
of waiting for her, Mother Bunch made haste to act; with a light step,
listening anxiously as she went, she reached the end of the passage,
where three or four stairs led down to the landing-place of the press
room, and then formed a spiral descent to the ground-floor. Hearing
voices in the pressroom, the sempstress hastened down the stairs, and
found herself in a long passage, in the centre of which was a glass
door, opening on that part of the garden reserved for the superior.
A path, bordered by a high box-hedge, sheltered her from the gaze of
curious eyes, and she crept along it, till she reached the open paling;
which, at this spot, separated the convent-garden from that of Dr.
Baleinier's asylum. She saw Mdlle. de Cardoville a few steps from her,
seated, and with her arm resting upon a rustic bench. The firmness
of Adrienne's character had for a moment been shaken by fatigue,
astonishment, fright, despair, on the terrible night when she had
been taken to the asylum by Dr. Baleinier; and the latter, taking a
diabolical advantage of her weakness and despondency, had succeeded
for a moment in making her doubt of her own sanity. But the calm, which
necessarily follows the most painful and violent emotions, combined
with the reflection and reasoning of a clear and subtle intellect, soon
convinced Adrienne of the groundlessness of the fears inspired by the
crafty doctor. She no longer believed that it could even be a mistake on
the part of the man of science. She saw clearly in the conduct of this
man, in which detestable hypocrisy was united with rare audacity, and
both served by a skill no less remarkable, that M. Baleinier was, in
fact, the blind instrument of the Princess de Saint-Dizier. From
that moment, she remained silent and calm, but full of dignity; not a
complaint, not a reproach was allowed to pass her lips. She waited. Yet,
though they left her at liberty to walk about (carefully depriving her
of all means of communicating with any one beyond the walls), Adrienne's
situation was harsh and painful, particularly for her, who so loved to
be surrounded by pleasant and harmonious objects. She felt, however,
that this situation could not last long. She did not thoroughly
understand the penetration and action of the laws; but her good sense
taught her, that a confinement of a few days under the plea of some
appearances of insanity, more or less plausible in themselves, might
be attempted, and even executed with impunity; but that it could not be
prolonged beyond certain limits, because, after all, a young lady of
her rank in society could not disappear suddenly from the world, without
inquiries being made on the subject--and the pretence of a sudden attack
of madness would lead to a serious investigation. Whether true or false,
this conviction had restored Adrienne to her accustomed elasticity and
energy of character. And yet she sometimes in vain asked herself the
cause of this attempt on her liberty. She knew too well the Princess de
Saint-Dizier, to believe her capable of acting in this way, without
a certain end in view, and merely for the purpose of inflicting a
momentary pang. In this, Mdlle. de Cardoville was not deceived: Father
d'Aigrigny and the princess were both persuaded, that Adrienne, better
informed than she wished to acknowledge, knew how important it was for
her to find herself in the house in the Rue Saint-Francois on the 13th
of February, and was determined to maintain her rights. In shutting up
Adrienne as mad, it was intended to strike a fatal blow at her future
prospects; but this last precaution was useless, for Adrienne, though
upon the true scent of the family-secret they lead wished to conceal
from her, had not yet entirely penetrated its meaning, for want of
certain documents, which had been lost or hidden.
Whatever had been the motives for the odious conduct of Mdlle. de
Cardoville's enemies, she was not the less disgusted at it. No one could
be more free from hatred or revenge, than was this generous young girl,
but when she thought of all the sufferings which the Princess de Saint
Dizier, Abbe d'Aigrigny, and Dr. Baleinier had occasioned her, she
promised herself, not reprisals, but a striking reparation. If it were
refused her, she was resolved to combat--without truce or rest--this
combination of craft, hypocrisy, and cruelty, not from resentment for
what she had endured, but to preserve from the same torments other
innocent victims, who might not, like her, be able to struggle and
defend themselves. Adrienne, still under the painful impression which
had been caused by her interview with Rose Simon, was leaning against
one of the sides of the rustic bench on which she was seated, and held
her left hand over her eyes. She had laid down her bonnet beside her,
and the inclined position of her head brought the long golden curls
over her fair, shining cheeks. In this recumbent attitude, so full of
careless grace, the charming proportions of her figure were seen to
advantage beneath a watered green dress, while a broad collar, fastened
with a rose-colored satin bow, and fine lace cuffs, prevented too strong
a contrast between the hue of her dress and the dazzling whiteness of
the swan-like neck and Raphaelesque hands, imperceptibly veined with
tiny azure lines. Over the high and well-formed instep, were crossed the
delicate strings of a little, black satin shoe--for Dr. Baleinier had
allowed her to dress herself with her usual taste, and elegance of
costume was not with Adrienne a mark of coquetry, but of duty towards
herself, because she had been made so beautiful. At sight of this young
lady, whose dress and appearance she admired in all simplicity, without
any envious or bitter comparison with her own poor clothes and deformity
of person, Mother Bunch said immediately to herself, with the good sense
and sagacity peculiar to her, that it was strange a mad woman should
dress so sanely and gracefully. It was therefore with a mixture of
surprise and emotion that she approached the fence which separated her
from Adrienne--reflecting, however, that the unfortunate girl might
still be insane, and that this might turn out to be merely a lucid
interval. And now, with a timid voice, but loud enough to be heard,
Mother Bunch, in order to assure herself of Adrienne's identity, said,
whilst her heart beat fast: "Mdlle. de Cardoville!"
"Who calls me?" said Adrienne. On hastily raising her head, and
perceiving the hunchback, she could not suppress a slight cry of
surprise, almost fright. For indeed this poor creature, pale, deformed,
miserably clad, thus appearing suddenly before her, must have inspired
Mdlle, de Cardoville, so passionately fond of grace and beauty, with a
feeling of repugnance, if not of terror--and these two sentiments were
both visible in her expressive countenance.
The other did not perceive the impression she had made. Motionless, with
her eyes fixed, and her hands clasped in a sort of adoring admiration,
she gazed on the dazzling beauty of Adrienne, whom she had only half
seen through the grated window. All that Agricola had told her of the
charms of his protectress, appeared to her a thousand times below the
reality; and never, even in her secret poetic visions, had she dreamed
of such rare perfection. Thus, by a singular contrast, a feeling of
mutual surprise came over these two girls--extreme types of deformity
and beauty, wealth and wretchedness. After rendering, as it were, this
involuntary homage to Adrienne, Mother Bunch advanced another step
towards the fence.
"What do you want?" cried Mdlle. de Cardoville, rising with a
sentiment of repugnance, which could not escape the work-girl's notice;
accordingly, she held down her head timidly, and said in a soft voice:
"I beg your pardon, madame, to appear so suddenly before you. But
moments are precious, I come from Agricola."
As she pronounced these words, the sempstress raised her eyes anxiously,
fearing that Mdlle. de Cardoville might have forgotten the name of
the workman. But, to her great surprise and joy, the fears of Adrienne
seemed to diminish at the name of Agricola, and approaching the fence,
she looked at the speaker with benevolent curiosity.
"You come from M. Agricola Baudoin?" said she. "Who are you?"
"His adopted sister, madame--a poor needlewoman, who lives in the same
house."
Adrienne appeared to collect her thoughts, and said, smiling kindly,
after a moment's silence: "It was you then, who persuaded M. Agricola to
apply to me to procure him bail?"
"Oh, madame, do you remember--"
"I never forget anything that is generous and noble. M. Agricola was
much affected when he spoke of your devotion. I remember it well; it
would be strange if I did not. But how came you here, in this convent?"
"They told me that I should perhaps be able to get some occupation here,
as I am out of work. Unfortunately, I have been refused by the lady
superior."
"And how did you recognize me?"
"By your great beauty, madame, of which Agricola had told me."
"Or rather by this," said Adrienne, smiling as she lifted, with the tips
of her rosy fingers, one end of a long, silky ringlet of golden hair.