The Wandering Jew, Complete

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


"Yes, you will have this pleasure," said M. Baleinier, with a smile; "for
we will solicit and intrigue to such purpose, that the good, mother may
learn from you the release of her son before she even knows that he has
been arrested."

"How kind, how obliging you are!" said Adrienne. "Really, if the motive
were not so serious, I should be ashamed of making you lose so much
precious time, my dear M. Baleinier. But I know your heart."

"I have no other wish, than to prove to you my profound devotion, my
sincere attachment," said the doctor inhaling a pinch of snuff. But at
the same time, he cast an uneasy glance through the window, for the
carriage was just crossing the Place de l'Odeon, and in spite of the
snow, he could see the front of the Odeon theatre brilliantly
illuminated. Now Adrienne, who had just turned her head towards that
side, might perhaps be astonished at the singular road they were taking.

In order to draw off her attention by a skillful diversion, the doctor
exclaimed suddenly: "Bless me! I had almost forgotten."

"What is the matter, M. Baleinier?" said Adrienne, turning hastily
towards him.

"I had forgotten a thing of the highest importance, in regard to the
success of our petition."

"What is it, please?" asked the young girl, anxiously.

M. Baleinier gave a cunning smile. "Every man," said he, "has his
weakness--ministers even more than others. The one we are going to visit
has the folly to attach the utmost importance to his title, and the first
impression would be unfavorable, if you did not lay great stress on the
Minister."

"Is that all, my dear M. Baleinier?" said Adrienne, smiling in her turn.
"I will even go so far as Your Excellency, which is, I believe, one of
his adopted titles."

"Not now--but that is no matter; if you could even slide in a My Lord or
two, our business would be done at once."

"Be satisfied! since there are upstart ministers as well as City-turned
gentlemen, I will remember Moliere's M. Jourdain, and feed full the
gluttonous vanity of your friend."

"I give him up to you, for I know he will be in good hands," replied the
physician, who rejoiced to see that the carriage had now entered those
dark streets which lead from the Place de l'Odeon to the Pantheon
district; "I do not wish to find fault with the minister for being proud,
since his pride may be of service to us on this occasion."

"These petty devices are innocent enough," said Mdlle. de Cardoville,
"and I confess that I do not scruple to have recourse to them." Then,
leaning towards the door-sash, she added: "Gracious! how sad and dark are
these streets. What wind! what snow! In which quarter are we?"

"What! are you so ungrateful, that you do not recognize by the absence of
shops, your dear quarter of the Faubourg Saint Germain?"

"I imagine we had quitted it long ago."

"I thought so too," said the physician, leaning forward as if to
ascertain where they were, "but we are still there. My poor coachman,
blinded by the snow, which is beating against his face, must have gone
wrong just now--but we are all right again. Yes, I perceive we are in the
Rue Saint Guillaume--not the gayest of streets by the way--but, in ten
minutes, we shall arrive at the minister's private entrance, for intimate
friends like myself enjoy the privilege of escaping the honors of a grand
reception."

Mdlle. de Cardoville, like most carriage-people, was so little acquainted
with certain streets of Paris, as well as with the customs of men in
office, that she did not doubt for a moment the statements of Baleinier,
in whom she reposed the utmost confidence.

When they left the Saint-Dizier House, the doctor had upon his lips a
question which he hesitated to put, for fear of endangering himself in
the eyes of Adrienne. The latter had spoken of important interests, the
existence of which had been concealed from her. The doctor, who was an
acute and skillful observer, had quite clearly remarked the embarrassment
and anxiety of the princess and D'Aigrigny. He no longer doubted, that
the plot directed against Adrienne--one in which he was the blind agent,
in submission to the will of the Order--related to interests which had
been concealed from him, and which, for that very reason, he burned to
discover; for every member of the dark conspiracy to which he belonged
had necessarily acquired the odious vices inherent to spies and
informers--envy, suspicion, and jealous curiosity.

It is easy to understand, therefore, that Dr. Baleinier, though quite
determined to serve the projects of D'Aigrigny, was yet very anxious to
learn what had been kept from him. Conquering his irresolution, and
finding the opportunity favorable, and no time to be lost, he said to
Adrienne, after a moment's silence: "I am going perhaps to ask you a very
indiscreet question. If you think it such, pray do not answer."

"Nay--go on, I entreat you."

"Just now--a few minutes before the arrival of the commissary of police
was announced to your aunt--you spoke, I think, of some great interests,
which had hitherto been concealed from you."

"Yes, I did so."

"These words," continued M. Baleinier, speaking slowly and emphatically,
"appeared to make a deep impression on the princess."

"An impression so deep," said Adrienne, "that sundry suspicions of mine
were changed to certainty."

"I need not tell you, my charming friend," resumed M. Baleinier, in a
bland tone, "that if I remind you of this circumstance, it is only to
offer you my services, in case they should be required. If not--and there
is the shadow of impropriety in letting me know more--forget that I have
said a word."

Adrienne became serious and pensive, and, after a silence of some
moments, she thus answered Dr. Baleinier: "On this subject, there are
some things that I do not know--others that I may tell you--others again
that I must keep from you: but you are so kind to-day, that I am happy to
be able to give you a new mark of confidence."

"Then I wish to know nothing," said the doctor, with an air of humble
deprecation, "for I should have the appearance of accepting a kind of
reward; whilst I am paid a thousand times over, by the pleasure I feel in
serving you."

"Listen," said Adrienne, without attending to the delicate scruples of
Dr. Baleinier; "I have powerful reasons for believing that an immense
inheritance must, at no very distant period, be divided between the
members of my family, all of whom I do not know--for, after the
Revocation of the Edict of Nantes, those from whom we are descended were
dispersed in foreign countries, and experienced a great variety of
fortunes."

"Really!" cried the doctor, becoming extremely interested. "Where is this
inheritance, in whose hands?"

"I do not know."

"Now how will you assert your rights?"

"That I shall learn soon."

"Who will inform you of it?"

"That I may not tell you."

"But how did you find out the existence of this inheritance?"

"That also I may not tell you," returned Adrienne, in a soft and
melancholy tone, which remarkably contrasted with the habitual vivacity
of her conversation. "It is a secret--a strange secret--and in those
moments of excitement, in which you have sometimes surprised me, I have
been thinking of extraordinary circumstances connected with this secret,
which awakened within me lofty and magnificent ideas."

Adrienne paused and was silent, absorbed in her own reflections.
Baleinier did not seek to disturb her. In the first place, Mdlle. de
Cardoville did not perceive the direction the coach was taking; secondly,
the doctor was not sorry to ponder over what he had just heard. With his
usual perspicuity, he saw that the Abbe d'Aigrigny was concerned in this
inheritance, and he resolved instantly to make a secret report on the
subject; either M. d'Aigrigny was acting under the instructions of the
Order, or by his own impulse; in the one event, the report of the doctor
would confirm a fact; in the other, it would reveal one.

For some time, therefore, the lady and Dr. Baleinier remained perfectly
silent, no longer even disturbed by the noise of the wheels, for the
carriage now rolled over a thick carpet of snow, and the streets had
become more and more deserted. Notwithstanding his crafty treachery,
notwithstanding his audacity and the blindness of his dupe, the doctor
was not quite tranquil as to the result of his machinations. The critical
moment approached, and the least suspicion roused in the mind of Adrienne
by any inadvertence on his part, might ruin all his projects.

Adrienne, already fatigued by the painful emotions of the day, shuddered
from time to time, as the cold became more and more piercing; in her
haste to accompany Dr. Baleinier, she had neglected to take either shawl
or mantle.

For some minutes the coach had followed the line of a very high wall,
which, seen through the snow, looked white against a black sky. The
silence was deep and mournful. Suddenly the carriage stopped, and the
footman went to knock at a large gateway; he first gave two rapid knocks,
and then one other at a long interval. Adrienne did not notice the
circumstance, for the noise was not loud, and the doctor had immediately
begun to speak, to drown with his voice this species of signal.

"Here we are at last," said he gayly to Adrienne; "you must be very
winning--that is, you must be yourself."

"Be sure I will do my best," replied Adrienne, with a smile; then she
added, shivering in spite of herself: "How dreadfully cold it is! I must
confess, my dear Dr. Baleinier, that when I have been to fetch my poor
little relations from the house of our workman's mother, I shall be truly
glad to find myself once more in the warmth and light of my own cheerful
rooms, for you know my aversion to cold and darkness."

"It is quite natural," said the doctor, gallantly; "the most charming
flowers require the most light and heat."

Whilst the doctor and Mdlle. de Cardoville exchanged these few words, a
heavy gate had turned creaking upon its hinges, and the carriage had
entered a court-yard. The physician got down first, to offer his arm to
Adrienne.




CHAPTER XLIV.

THE MINISTER'S CABINET.

The carriage had stopped before some steps covered with snow, which led
to a vestibule lighted by a lamp. The better to ascend the steps, which
were somewhat slippery, Adrienne leaned upon the doctor's arm.

"Dear me! how you tremble," said he.

"Yes," replied she, shuddering, "I feel deadly cold. In my haste, I came
out without a shawl. But how gloomy this house appears," she added,
pointing to the entrance.

"It is what you call the minister's private house, the sanctum sanctorum,
whither our statesman retires far from the sound of the profane," said
Dr. Baleinier, with a smile. "Pray come in!" and he pushed open the door
of a large hall, completely empty.

"They are right in saying," resumed Dr. Baleinier, who covered his secret
agitation with an appearance of gayety, "that a minister's house is like
nobody else's. Not a footman--not a page, I should say--to be found in
the antechamber. Luckily," added he, opening the door of a room which
communicated with the vestibule,

"'In this seraglio reared, I know the secret ways.'"

Mdlle. de Cardoville was now introduced into an apartment hung with green
embossed paper, and very simply furnished with mahogany chairs, covered
with yellow velvet; the floor was carefully polished, and a globe lamp,
which gave at most a third of its proper light, was suspended (at a much
greater height than usual) from the ceiling. Finding the appearance of
this habitation singularly plain for the dwelling of a minister,
Adrienne, though she had no suspicion, could not suppress a movement of
surprise and paused a moment on the threshold of the door. M. Baleinier,
by whose arm she held, guessed the cause of her astonishment, and said to
her with a smile:

"This place appears to you very paltry for 'his excellency,' does it not?
If you knew what a thing constitutional economy is!--Moreover, you will
see a 'my lord,' who has almost as little pretension as his furniture.
But please to wait for me an instant. I will go and inform the minister
you are here, and return immediately."

Gently disengaging himself from the grasp of Adrienne, who had
involuntarily pressed close to him, the physician opened a small side
door, by which he instantly disappeared. Adrienne de Cardoville was left
alone.

Though she could not have explained the cause of her impression, there
was something awe-inspiring to the young lady in this large, cold, naked,
curtainless room; and as, by degrees, she noticed certain peculiarities
in the furniture, which she had not at first perceived, she was seized
with an indefinable feeling of uneasiness.

Approaching the cheerless hearth, she perceived with surprise that an
iron grating completely enclosed the opening of the chimney, and that the
tongs and shovel were fastened with iron chains. Already astonished by
this singularity, she was about mechanically to draw towards her an
armchair placed against the wall, when she found that it remained
motionless. She then discovered that the back of this piece of furniture,
as well as that of all the other chairs, was fastened to the wainscoting
by iron clamps. Unable to repress a smile, she exclaimed: "Have they so
little confidence in the statesman in whose house I am, that they are
obliged to fasten the furniture to the walls?"

Adrienne had recourse to this somewhat forced pleasantry as a kind of
effort to resist the painful feeling of apprehension that was gradually
creeping over her; for the most profound and mournful silence reigned in
this habitation, where nothing indicated the life, the movement and the
activity, which usually surround a great centre of business. Only, from
time to time, the young lady heard the violent gusts of wind from
without.

More than a quarter of an hour had elapsed, and M. Baleinier did not
return. In her impatient anxiety, Adrienne wished to call some one to
inquire about the doctor and the minister. She raised her eyes to look
for a bell-rope by the side of the chimney-glass; she found none, but she
perceived, that what she had hitherto taken for a glass, thanks to the
half obscurity of the room, was in reality a large sheet of shining tin.
Drawing nearer to it, she accidentally touched a bronzed candlestick; and
this, as well as a clock, was fixed to the marble of the chimney-piece.

In certain dispositions of mind, the most insignificant circumstances
often assume terrific proportions. This immovable candlestick, this
furniture fastened to the wainscot, this glass replaced by a tin sheet,
this profound silence, and the prolonged absence of M. Baleinier, had
such an effect upon Adrienne, that she was struck with a vague terror.
Yet such was her implicit confidence in the doctor, that she reproached
herself with her own fears, persuading herself that the causes of them
were after all of no real importance, and that it was unreasonable to
feel uneasy at such trifles.

Still, though she thus strove to regain courage, her anxiety induced her
to do what otherwise she would never have attempted. She approached the
little door by which the doctor had disappeared, and applied her ear to
it. She held her breath, and listened, but heard nothing.

Suddenly, a dull, heavy sound, like that of a falling body, was audible
just above her head; she thought she could even distinguish a stifled
moaning. Raising her eyes, hastily, she saw some particles of the plaster
fall from the ceiling, loosened, no doubt, by the shaking of the floor
above.

No longer able to resist the feeling of terror, Adrienne ran to the door
by which she had entered with the doctor, in order to call some one. To
her great surprise, she found it was fastened on the outside. Yet, since
her arrival, she had heard no sound of a key turning in the lock.

More and more alarmed, the young girl flew to the little door by which
the physician had disappeared, and at which she had just been listening.
This door also was fastened on the outside.

Still, wishing to struggle with the terror which was gaining invincibly
upon her, Adrienne called to her aid all the firmness of her character,
and tried to argue away her fears.

"I must have been deceived." she said; "it was only a fall that I heard.
The moaning had no existence, except in my imagination. There are a
thousand reasons for believing that it was not a person who fell down.
But, then, these locked doors? They, perhaps, do not know that I am here;
they may have thought that there was nobody in this room."

As she uttered these words, Adrienne looked round with anxiety; then she
added, in a firm voice: "No weakness! it is useless to try to blind
myself to my real situation. On the contrary, I must look it well in the
face. It is evident that I am not here at a minister's house; no end of
reasons prove it beyond a doubt; M. Baleinier has therefore deceived me.
But for what end? Why has he brought me hither? Where am I?"

The last two questions appeared to Adrienne both equally insoluble. It
only remained clear, that she was the victim of M. Baleinier's perfidy.
But this certainly seemed so horrible to the young girl's truthful and
generous soul, that she still tried to combat the idea by the
recollection of the confiding friendship which she had always shown this
man. She said to herself with bitterness: "See how weakness and fear may
lead one to unjust and odious suspicions! Yes; for until the last
extremity, it is not justifiable to believe in so infernal a
deception--and then only upon the clearest evidence. I will call some
one: it is the only way of completely satisfying these doubts." Then,
remembering that there was no bell, she added: "No matter; I will knock,
and some one will doubtless answer." With her little, delicate hand,
Adrienne struck the door several times.

The dull, heavy sound which came from the door showed that it was very
thick. No answer was returned to the young girl. She ran to the other
door. There was the same appeal on her part, the same profound silence
without--only interrupted from time to time by the howling of the wind.

"I am not more timid than other people," said Adrienne, shuddering; "I do
not know if it is the excessive cold, but I tremble in spite of myself. I
endeavor to guard against all weakness; yet I think that any one in my
position would find all this very strange and frightful."

At this instant, loud cries, or rather savage and dreadful howls, burst
furiously from the room just above, and soon after a sort of stamping of
feet, like the noise of a violent struggle, shook the ceiling of the
apartment. Struck with consternation, Adrienne uttered a loud cry of
terror became deadly pale, stood for a moment motionless with affright,
and then rushed to one of the windows, and abruptly threw it open.

A violent gust of wind, mixed with melted snow, beat against Adrienne's
face, swept roughly into the room, and soon extinguished the flickering
and smoky light of the lamp. Thus, plunged in profound darkness, with her
hands clinging to the bars that were placed across the window, Mdlle. de
Cardoville yielded at length to the full influence of her fears, so long
restrained, and was about to call aloud for help, when an unexpected
apparition rendered her for some minutes absolutely mute with terror.

Another wing of the building, opposite to that in which she was, stood at
no great distance. Through the midst of the black darkness, which filled
the space between, one large, lighted window was distinctly visible.
Through the curtainless panes, Adrienne perceived a white figure, gaunt
and ghastly, dragging after it a sort of shroud, and passing and
repassing continually before the window, with an abrupt and restless
motion. Her eyes fixed upon this window, shining through the darkness,
Adrienne remained as if fascinated by that fatal vision: and, as the
spectacle filled up the measure of her fears, she called for help with
all her might, without quitting the bars of the window to which she
clung. After a few seconds, whilst she was thus crying out, two tall
women entered the room in silence, unperceived by Mdlle. de Cardoville,
who was still clinging to the window.

These women, of about forty to fifty years of age, robust and masculine,
were negligently and shabbily dressed, like chambermaids of the lower
sort; over their clothes they wore large aprons of blue cotton, cut
sloping from their necks, and reaching down to their feet. One of them,
who held a lamp in her hand, had a broad, red, shining face, a large
pimpled nose, small green eyes, and tow hair, which straggled rough and
shaggy from beneath her dirty white cap. The other, sallow, withered, and
bony, wore a mourning-cap over a parchment visage, pitted with the
small-pox, and rendered still more repulsive by the thick black eyebrows,
and some long gray hairs that overshadowed the upper lip. This woman
carried, half unfolded in her hand, a garment of strange form, made of
thick gray stuff.

They both entered silently by the little door, at the moment when
Adrienne, in the excess of her terror, was grasping the bars of the
window, and crying out: "Help! help!"

Pointing out the young lady to each other, one of them went to place the
lamp on the chimney-piece, whilst the other (she who wore the mourning
cap) approached the window, and laid her great bony hand upon Mdlle. de
Cardoville's shoulder.

Turning round, Adrienne uttered a new cry of terror at the sight of this
grim figure. Then, the first moment of stupor over, she began to feel
less afraid; hideous as was this woman, it was at least some one to speak
to; she exclaimed, therefore, in an agitated voice: "Where is M.
Baleinier?"

The two women looked at each other, exchanged a leer of mutual
intelligence, but did not answer.

"I ask you, madame," resumed Adrienne, "where is M. Baleinier, who
brought me hither? I wish to see him instantly."

"He is gone," said the big woman.

"Gone!" cried Adrienne; "gone without me!--Gracious heaven! what can be
the meaning of all this?" Then, after a moment's reflection, she resumed,
"Please to fetch me a coach."

The two women looked at each other, and shrugged their shoulders. "I
entreat you, madame," continued Adrienne, with forced calmness in her
voice, "to fetch me a coach since M. Baleinier is gone without me. I wish
to leave this place."

"Come, come, madame," said the tall woman, who was called "Tomboy,"
without appearing to listen to what Adrienne asked, "it is time for you
to go to bed."

"To go to bed!" cried Mdlle. Cardoville, in alarm. "This is really enough
to drive one mad." Then, addressing the two women, she added: "What is
this house? where am I? answer!"

"You are in a house," said Tomboy, in a rough voice, "where you must not
make a row from the window, as you did just now."

"And where you must not put out the lamp as you have done," added the
other woman, who was called Gervaise, "or else we shall have a crow to
pick with you."

Adrienne, unable to utter a word, and trembling with fear, looked in a
kind of stupor from one to the other of these horrible women; her reason
strove in vain to comprehend what was passing around her. Suddenly she
thought she had guessed it, and exclaimed: "I see there is a mistake
here. I do not understand how, but there is a mistake. You take me for
some one else. Do you know who I am? My name is Adrienne de Cardoville
You see, therefore, that I am at liberty to leave this house; no one in
the world has the right to detain me. I command you, then, to fetch me a
coach immediately. If there are none in this quarter, let me have some
one to accompany me home to the Rue de Babylone, Saint-Dizier House. I
will reward such a person liberally, and you also."

"Well, have you finished?" said Tomboy. "What is the use of telling us
all this rubbish?"

"Take care," resumed Adrienne, who wished to try every means; "if you
detain me here by force, it will be very serious. You do not know to what
you expose yourselves."

"Will you come to bed; yes or no?" said Gervaise, in a tone of harsh
impatience.

"Listen to me, madame," resumed Adrienne, precipitately, "let me out this
place, and I will give each of you two thousand francs. It is not enough?
I will give you ten--twenty--whatever you ask. I am rich--only let me out
for heaven's sake, let me out!--I cannot remain here--I am afraid." As
she said this, the tone of the poor girl's voice was heartrending.

"Twenty thousand francs!--that's the usual figure, ain't it, Tomboy?"

"Let be, Gervaise! they all sing the same song."

"Well, then? since reasons, prayers, and menaces are all in vain," said
Adrienne gathering energy from her desperate position, "I declare to you
that I will go out and that instantly. We will see if you are bold enough
to employ force against me."

So saying, Adrienne advanced resolutely towards the door. But, at this
moment, the wild hoarse cries, which had preceded the noise of the
struggle that had so frightened her, again resounded; only, this time
they were not accompanied by the movement of feet.