The Wandering Jew, Complete

E >> Eugene Sue >> The Wandering Jew, Complete


Though naturally rough, and rendered still more testy by the interruption
of his sleep, the burgomaster was not quite deficient in sense of
feeling. He perceived at once, that a man thus accompanied, ought not to
inspire any great distrust. "Poor dear children!" said he, as he examined
them with growing interest; "orphans so young, and they come from far--"

"From the heart of Siberia, Mr. Burgomaster, where their mother was an
exile before their birth. It is now more than five months that we have
been travelling on by short stages--hard enough, you will say, for
children of their age. It is for them that I ask your favor and support
for them against whom everything seems to combine to-day for, only just
now, when I went to look for my papers, I could not find in my knapsack
the portfolio in which they were, along with my purse and cross--for you
must know, Mr. Burgomaster--pardon me, if I say it--'tis not from vain
glory--but I was decorated by the hand of the Emperor; and a man whom he
decorated with his own hand, you see, could not be so bad a fellow,
though he may have had the misfortune to lose his papers--and his purse.
That's what has happened to me, and made me so pressing about the
damages."

"How and where did you suffer this loss?"

"I do not know, Mr. Burgomaster; I am sure that the evening before last,
at bed-time, I took a little money out of the purse, and saw the
portfolio in its place; yesterday I had small change sufficient, and did
not undo the knapsack."

"And where then has the knapsack been kept?"

"In the room occupied by the children: but this night--"

Dagobert was here interrupted by the tread of some one mounting the
stairs: it was the Prophet. Concealed in the shadow of the staircase, he
had listened to this conversation, and he dreaded lest the weakness of
the burgomaster should mar the complete success of his projects.




CHAPTER XIV.

THE DECISION.

Morok, who wore his left arm in a sling, having slowly ascended the
staircase, saluted the burgomaster respectfully. At sight of the
repulsive countenance of the lion-tamer, Rose and Blanche, affrighted,
drew back a step nearer to the soldier. The brow of the latter grew dark,
for he felt his blood boil against Morok, the cause of all his
difficulties--though he was yet ignorant that Goliath, at the instigation
of the Prophet, had stolen his portfolio and papers.

"What did you want, Morok?" said the burgomaster, with an air half
friendly and half displeased. "I told the landlord that I did not wish to
be interrupted."

"I have come to render you a service, Mr. Burgomaster."

"A service?"

"Yes, a great service; or I should not have ventured to disturb you. My
conscience reproaches me."

"Your conscience."

"Yes, Mr. Burgomaster, it reproaches me for not having told you all that
I had to tell about this man; a false pity led me astray."

"Yell, but what have you to tell?"

Morok approached the judge, and spoke to him for sometime in a low voice.

At first apparently much astonished, the burgomaster became by degrees
deeply attentive and anxious; every now and then be allowed some
exclamation of surprise or doubt to escape him, whilst he glanced
covertly at the group formed by Dagobert and the two young girls. By the
expression of his countenance, which grew every moment more unquiet,
severe, and searching, it was easy to perceive that the interest which
the magistrate had felt for the orphans and for the soldier, was
gradually changed, by the secret communications of the Prophet, into a
sentiment of distrust and hostility.

Dagobert saw this sudden revolution, and his fears, which had been
appeased for an instant, returned with redoubled force; Rose and Blanche,
confused, and not understanding the object of this mute scene, looked at
the soldier with increased perplexity.

"The devil!" said the burgomaster, rising abruptly; "all of this never
occurred to me. What could I have been thinking of?--But you see, Morok,
when one is roused up in the middle of the night, one has not always
presence of mind. You said well: it is a great service you came to render
me."

"I assert nothing positively, but--"

"No matter; 'tis a thousand to one that you are right."

"It is only a suspicion founded upon divers circumstances; but even a
suspicion--"

"May give you scent of the truth. And here was I, going like a gull into
the snare!--Once more, what could I have been thinking of?"

"It is so difficult to be on guard against certain appearances."

"You need not tell me so, my dear Morok, you need not tell me so."

During this mysterious conversation, Dagobert was on thorns; he saw
vaguely that a violent storm was about to burst. He thought only of how
he should still keep his anger within bounds.

Morok again approached the judge, and glancing at the orphans,
recommenced speaking in a low voice. "Oh" cried the burgomaster, with,
indignation, "you go too far now."

"I affirm nothing," said Morok, hastily; "it is a mere supposition
founded on--" and he again brought his lips close to the ear of the
judge.

"After all, why not?" resumed the magistrate, lifting up his hands; "such
people are capable of anything. He says that he brings them from the
heart of Siberia: why may not all this prove to be a tissue of impudent
falsehoods?--But I am not to be made a dupe twice," cried the
burgomaster, in an angry tone, for, like all persons of a weak and
shifting character, he was without pity for those whom he thought capable
of having beguiled his compassion.

"Do not be in a hurry to decide--don't give to my words more weight than
they deserve," resumed Morok with a hypocritical affectation of humility.
"I am unhappily placed in so false a position with regard to this
man,"--pointing to Dagober--"that I might be thought to have acted from
private resentment for the injury he has done me; perhaps I may so act
without knowing it, while I fancy that I am only influenced by love of
justice, horror of falsehood, and respect for our holy religion.
Well--who lives long enough will know--and may heaven forgive me if I am
deceived!--In any case, the law will pronounce upon it; and if they
should prove innocent, they will be released in a month or two."

"And, for that reason, I need not hesitate. It is a mere measure of
precaution; they will not die of it. Besides, the more I think of it, the
more it seems probable. Yes this man is doubtless a French spy or
agitator, especially when I compare these suspicions with the late
demonstration of the students at Frankfort."

"And, upon that theory, nothing is better fitted to excite and stir up
those hot-headed youths than--" He glanced significantly at the two
sisters; then, after a pause, he added with a sigh, "Satan does not care
by what means he works out his ends!"

"Certainly, it would be odious, but well-devised."

"And then, Mr Burgomaster, look at him attentively: you will see that
this man has a dangerous face. You will see--"

In continuing thus to speak in a low tone, Morok had evidently pointed to
Dagobert. The latter, notwithstanding his self-command, felt that the
restraint he had imposed upon himself, since his arrival at this unlucky
inn, and above all wince the commencement of the conversation between
Morok and the burgomaster, was becoming no longer bearable; besides, he
saw clearly that all his efforts to conciliate the favor of the judge
were rendered completely null by the fatal influence of the brute-tamer;
so, losing patience, he advanced towards him with his arms folded on his
breast, and said to him in a subdued voice: "Was it of me that you were
whispering to Mr. Burgomaster?"

"Yes," said Morok, looking fixedly at him.

"Why did you not speak out loud?" Having said this, the almost convulsive
movement of his thick moustache, as he stood looping Morok full in the
face, gave evidence of a severe internal conflict. Seeing that his
adversary preserved a contemptuous silence, he repeated in a sterner
voice: "I ask you, why you did not speak out loud to Mr. Burgomaster,
when you were talking of me?"

"Because there are some things so shameful, that one would blush to utter
them aloud," answered Morok insolently.

Till then Dagobert had kept his arms folded; he now extended them
violently, clenching his fists. This sudden movement was so expressive
that the two sisters uttered a cry of terror, and drew closer to him.

"Hark ye, Mr. Burgomaster!" said the soldier, grinding his teeth with
rage: "bid that man go down, or I will not answer for myself!"

"What!" said the burgomaster, haughtily; "do you dare to give orders to
me?"

"I tell you to make that man go down," resumed Dagobert, quite beside
himself, "or there will be mischief!"

"Dagobert!--good heaven!--be calm," cried the children, grasping his
hands.

"It becomes you, certainly--miserable vagabond that you are--not to say
worse," returned the burgomaster, in a rage: "it becomes you to give
orders to me!--Oh! you think to impose upon me, by telling me you have
lost your papers!--It will not serve your turn, for which you carry about
with you these two girls, who, in spite of their innocent looks, are
perhaps after all--"

"Wretch!" cried Dagobert, with so terrible a voice and gesture that the
official did not dare to finish. Taking the children by the arm before
they could speak a word, the soldier pushed them back into the chamber;
then, locking the door, and putting the key into his pocket, he returned
precipitately towards the burgomaster, who, frightened at the menacing
air and attitude of the veteran, retreated a couple of steps, and held by
one hand to the rail of the staircase.

"Listen to me!" said the soldier, seizing the judge by the arm. "Just
now, that scoundrel insulted me--I bore with it--for it only concerned
myself. I have heard patiently all your idle talk, because you seemed for
a moment to interest yourself in those poor children. But since you have
neither soul, nor pity, nor justice--I tell you that, burgomaster though
you are--I will spurn you as I would spurn that dog," pointing again to
the Prophet, "if you have the misfortune to mention those two young
girls, in any other way than you would speak of your own child!--Now, do
you mark me?"

"What!--you dare to say," cried the burgomaster, stammering with rage,
"that if I happen to mention two adventuresses--"

"Hats off!--when you speak of the daughters of the Duke of Ligny," cried
the soldier, snatching the cap of the burgomaster and flinging it on the
ground. On this act of aggression, Morok could not restrain his joy.
Exasperated and losing all hope, Dagobert had at length yielded to the
violence of his anger, after struggling so painfully against it for some
hours.

When the burgomaster saw his cap at his feet, he looked at the brute
tamer with an air of stupefaction, as if he hesitated to believe so great
an enormity. Dagobert, regretting, his violence, and feeling that no
means of conciliation note remained, threw a rapid glance around him,
and, retreating several paces, gained the topmost steps of the staircase.
The burgomaster stood near the bench, in a corner of the landing-place,
whilst Morok, with his arm in the sling, to give the more serious
appearance to his wound, was close beside him. "So!" cried the
magistrate, deceived by the backward movement of Dagobert, "you think to
escape, after daring to lift hand against me!--Old villain!"

"Forgive me, Mr. Burgomaster! It was a burst of rashness that I was not
able to control. I am sorry for it," said Dagobert in a repentant voice,
and hanging his head humbly.

"No pity for thee, rascal! You would begin again to smooth me over with
your coaxing ways, but I have penetrated your secret designs. You are not
what you appear to be, and there is perhaps an affair of state at the
bottom of all this," added the magistrate, in a very diplomatic tone.
"All means are alike to those who wish to set Europe in flames."

"I am only a poor devil, Mr. Burgomaster; you, that have a good heart,
will show me some mercy."

"What! when you have pulled off my cap?"

"And you," added the soldier, turning towards Morok, "you, that have been
the cause of all this--have same pity upon me--do not bear malice!--You,
a holy man, speak a word in my favor to Mr. Burgomaster."

"I have spoken to him what I was bound to speak," answered the Prophet
ironically.

"Oho! you can look foolish enough now, you old vagabond! Did you think to
impose on me with lamentations?" resumed the burgomaster, advancing
towards Dagobert. "Thanks be, I am no longer your dupe!--You shall see
that we have good dungeons at Leipsic for French agitators and female
vagrants, for your damsels are no better than you are. Come," added he,
puffing out his cheeks with an important air, "go down before me--and as
for you, Morok--"

The burgomaster was unable to finish. For some minutes Dagobert had only
sought to gain time, and had cast many a side-glance at a half-open door
on the landing-place, just opposite to the chamber occupied by the
orphans: finding the moment favorable, he now rushed quick as lightning
on the burgomaster, seized him by the throat, and dashed him with such
violence against the door in question, that the magistrate, stupefied by
this sudden attack, and unable to speak a word or utter a cry, rolled
over to the further end of the room, which was completely dark. Then,
turning towards Morok, who, with his arm encumbered by the sling, made a
rush for the staircase, the soldier caught him by his long, streaming
hair, pulled him back, clasped him with hands of iron, clapped his hand
over his mouth to stifle his outcries, and notwithstanding his desperate
resistance, dragged him into the chamber, on the floor of which the
burgomaster lay bruised and stunned.

Having double-locked the door, and put the key in his pocket, Dagobert
descended the stairs at two bounds, and found himself in a passage, that
opened on the court-yard. The gate of the inn was shut, and there was no
possibility of escape on that side. The rain fell in torrents. He could
see through the window of a parlor, in which a fire was burning, the host
and his people waiting for the decision of the burgomaster. To bolt the
door of the passage, and thus intercept all communication with the yard,
was for the soldier the affair of an instant, and he hastened upstairs
again to rejoin the orphans.

Morok, recovering from his surprise, was calling for help with all his
might; but, even if the distance had permitted him to be heard, the noise
of the wind and rain would have drowned his outcries. Dagobert had about
an hour before him, for it would require some time to elapse before the
length of his interview with the magistrate would excite astonishment;
and, suspicion or fear once awakened, it would be necessary to break open
two doors--that which separated the passage from the court-yard, and that
of the room in which the burgomaster and the Prophet were confined.

"My children, it is now time to prove that you have a soldier's blood in
your veins," said Dagobert, as he entered abruptly the chamber of the
young girls, who were terrified at the racket they had heard for some
minutes.

"Good heaven, Dagobert! what has happened?" cried Blanche.

"What do you wish us to do?" added Rose.

Without answering, the soldier ran to the bed, tore off the sheets, tied
them strongly together, made a knot at one end, passed it over the top of
the left half of the casement, and so shut it in. Thus made fast by the
size of the knot, which could not slip through, the sheets, floating on
the outside, touched the ground. The second half of the window was left
open, to afford a passage to the fugitives.

The veteran next took his knapsack, the children's portmanteau, and the
reindeer pelisse, and threw them all out of the window, making a sign to
Spoil-sport to follow, to watch over them. The dog did not hesitate, but
disappeared at a single bound. Rose and Blanche looked at Dagobert in
amazement, without uttering a word.

"Now, children," said he to them, "the doors of the inn are shut, and it
is by this way," pointing to the window, "that we must pass--if we would
not be arrested, put in prison--you in one place, and I in the other--and
have our journey altogether knocked on the head."

"Arrested! put in prison!" cried Rose.

"Separated from you!" exclaimed Blanche.

"Yes, my poor children!--They have killed Jovial--we must make our escape
on foot, and try to reach Leipsic--when you are tired, I will carry you,
and, though I have to beg my way, we will go through with it. But a
quarter of an hour later, and all will be lost. Come, children, have
trust in me--show that the daughters of General Simon are no cowards--and
there is yet hope."

By a sympathetic movement, the sisters joined hands, as though they would
meet the danger united. Their sweet faces, pale from the effect of so
many painful emotions, were now expressive of simple resolve, founded on
the blind faith they reposed in the devotion of the soldier.

"Be satisfied, Dagobert! we'll not be frightened," said Rose, in a firm
voice.

"We will do what must be done," added Blanche, in a no less resolute
tone.

"I was sure of it," cried Dagobert; "good blood is ever thicker than
water. Come! you are light as feathers, the sheet is strong, it is hardly
eight feet to the ground, and the pup is waiting for you."

"It is for me to go first--I am the eldest for to-day," cried Rose, when
she had tenderly embraced Blanche; and she ran to the window, in order,
if there were any danger, to expose herself to it before her sister.

Dagobert easily guessed the cause of this eagerness. "Dear children!"
said he, "I understand you. But fear nothing for one another--there is no
danger. I have myself fastened the sheet. Quick, my little Rose!"

As light as a bird, the young girl mounted the ledge of the window, and
assisted by Dagobert, took hold of the sheet, and slid gently down
according to the recommendation of the soldier, who, leaning out his
whole body, encouraged her with his voice.

"Don't be afraid, sister!" said she, as soon as she touched the ground,
"it is very easy to come down this way. And Spoil-sport is here, licking
my hands." Blanche did not long keep her waiting; as courageous as her
sister, she descended with the same success.

"Dear little creatures! what have they done to be so
unfortunate?--Thousand thunders! there must be a curse upon the family,"
cried Dagobert, as, with heavy heart, he saw the pale, sweet face of the
young girl disappear amid the gloom of the dark night, which violent
squalls of wind and torrents of rain rendered still more dismal.

"Dagobert, we are waiting for you; come quickly!" said the orphans in a
low voice, from beneath the window. Thanks to his tall stature, the
soldier rather leaped than glided to the ground.

Dagobert and the two young girls had not fled from the inn of the White
Falcon more than a quarter of an hour, when a long crash resounded
through the house. The door had yielded to the efforts of the burgomaster
and Morok, who had made use of a heavy table as a battering ram. Guided
by the light, they ran to the chamber of the orphans, now deserted. Morok
saw the sheets floating from the casement, and cried: "Mr. Burgomaster,
they have escaped by the window--they are on foot--in this dark and
stormy night, they cannot be far."

"No doubt, we shall catch them, the miserable tramps! Oh, I will be
revenged! Quick, Morok; your honor is concerned as well as mine."

"My honor?--Much more is concerned than that, Mr. Burgomaster," answered
the Prophet, in a tone of great irritation. Then, rapidly descending the
stairs, he opened the door of the court-yard, and shouted in a voice of
thunder:

"Goliath! unchain the dogs!--and, landlord! bring us lanterns,
torches--arm your people--open the doors!--We must pursue the fugitives;
they cannot escape us; we must have them--alive or dead!"




CHAPTER XV.

THE DESPATCHES.

When we read, in the rules of the order of the Jesuits, under the title
De formula scribendi (Institut. 2, 11, p. 125, 129), the development of
the 8th part of the constitutions, we are appalled by the number of
letters, narratives, registers, and writings of all kinds, preserved in
the archives of the society.

It is a police infinitely more exact and better informed than has ever
been that of any state. Even the government of Venice found itself
surpassed by the Jesuits: when it drove them out in 1606, it seized all
their papers, and reproached them for their great and laborious
curiosity. This police, this secret inquisition, carried to such a degree
of perfection, may give some idea of the strength of a government, so
well-informed so persevering in its projects, so powerful by its unity,
and, as the constitutions have it, by the union of its members. It is not
hard to understand, what immense force must belong to the heads of this
society, and how the general of the Jesuits could say to the Duke de
Brissac: "From this room, your grace, I govern not only Paris, but
China--not only China, but the whole world--and all without any one
knowing how it is done:" (Constitution of the Jesuits, edited by Paulin,
Paris, 1843.)

Morok, the lion-tamer, seeing Dagobert deprived of his horse, and
stripped of his money and papers, and thinking it was thus out of his
power to continue his journey, had, previous to the arrival of the
burgomaster, despatched Karl to Leipsic, as the bearer of a letter which
he was to put immediately into the post. The address of this letter was
as follows: "A Monsieur Rodin, Rue du Milieu des Ursins, Paris."

About the middle of this obscure and solitary street, situate below the
level of the Quai Napoleon, which it joins not far from the Rue Saint
Landry, there stood a house of unpretentious appearance, at the bottom of
a dark and narrow court-yard, separated from the street by a low building
in front, with arched doorway, and two windows protected by thick iron
bars. Nothing could be more simple than the interior of this quiet
dwelling, as was sufficiently shown by the furniture of a pretty large
room on the ground floor. The walls of this apartment were lined with old
gray wainscot; the tiled floor was painted red, and carefully polished;
curtains of white calico shaded the windows.

A sphere of about four feet in diameter, raised on a pedestal of massive
oak, stood at one end of the room, opposite to the fireplace. Upon this
globe, which was painted on a large scale, a host of little red crosses
appeared scattered over all parts of the world--from the North to the
South, from the rising to the setting sun, from the most barbarous
countries, from the most distant isles, to the centres of civilization,
to France itself. There was not a single country which did not present
some spots marked with these red crosses, evidently indicative of
stations, or serving as points of reference.

Before a table of black wood, loaded with papers, and resting against the
wall near the chimney, a chair stood empty. Further on, between the two
windows, was a large walnut-wood desk, surmounted by shelves full of
pasteboard boxes.

At the end of the month of October, 1831, about eight o'clock in the
morning, a man sat writing at this desk. This was M. Rodin, the
correspondent of Morok, the brute-tamer.

About fifty years of age, he wore an old, shabby, olive greatcoat, with a
greasy collar, a snuff-powdered cotton handkerchief for a cravat, and
waistcoat and trousers of threadbare black cloth. His feet, buried in
loose varnished shoes, rested on a petty piece of green baize upon the
red, polished floor. His gray hair lay flat on his temples, and encircled
his bald forehead; his eyebrows were scarcely marked; his upper eyelid,
flabby and overhanging, like the membrane which shades the eyes of
reptiles, half concealed his small, sharp, black eye. His thin lips,
absolutely colorless, were hardly distinguishable from the wan hue of his
lean visage, with its pointed nose and chin; and this livid mask
(deprived as it were of lips) appeared only the more singular, from its
maintaining a death-like immobility. Had it not been for the rapid
movement of his fingers, as, bending over the desk, he scratched along
with his pen, M. Rodin might have been mistaken for a corpse.

By the aid of a cipher (or secret alphabet) placed before him he was
copying certain passages from a long sheet full of writing, in a manner
quite unintelligible to those who did not possess the key to the system.
Whilst the darkness of the day increased the gloom of the large, cold,
naked-looking apartment, there was something awful in the chilling aspect
of this man, tracing his mysterious characters in the midst of profound
silence.

The clock struck eight. The dull sound of the knocker at the outer door
was heard, then a bell tinkled twice, several doors opened and shut, and
a new personage entered the chamber. On seeing him, M. Rodin rose from
the desk, stuck his pen between his teeth, bowed with a deeply submissive
air, and sat down again to his work without uttering a word.