The Wandering Jew, Complete

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


In the general management of the pecuniary affairs of the community,
Mother Sainte-Perpetue would have been a match for the most cunning
attorney. When women are possessed of what is called a talent for
business, and apply to it their keen penetration, their indefatigable
perseverance, their prudent dissimulation, and, above all, that quick and
exact insight, which is natural to them, the results are often
prodigious. To Mother Sainte-Perpetue, a woman of the coolest and
strongest intellect, the management of the vast transactions of the
community was mere child's play. No one knew better how to purchase a
depreciated property, to restore it to its former value, and then sell it
with advantage; the price of stock, the rate of exchange, the current
value of the shares in the different companies, were all familiar to her;
she had yet never been known to make bad speculation, when the question
was to invest any of the funds which were given by pious souls for the
purposes of the convent. She had established in the house the utmost
order and discipline, and, above all, an extreme economy. The constant
aim of all her efforts was to enrich, not herself, but the community she
directed; for the spirit of association, when become a collective
egotism, gives to corporations the faults and vices of an individual.
Thus a congregation may dote upon power and money, just as a miser loves
them for their own sake. But it is chiefly with regard to estates that
congregations act like a single man. They dream of landed property; it is
their fixed idea, their fruitful monomania. They pursue it with their
most sincere, and warm, and tender wishes.

The first estate is to a rising little community what the wedding
trousseau is to a young bride, his first horse to a youth, his first
success to a poet, to a gay girl her first fifty-guinea shawl; because,
after all, in this material age, an estate gives a certain rank to a
society on the Religious Exchange, and has so much the more effect upon
the simple-minded, that all these partnerships in the work of salvation,
which end by becoming immensely rich, begin with modest poverty as social
stock-in-trade, and charity towards their neighbors as security reserve
fund. We may therefore imagine what bitter and ardent rivalry must exist
between the different congregations with regard to the various estates
that each can lay claim to; with what ineffable satisfaction the richer
society crushes the poorer beneath its inventory of houses, and farms and
paper securities! Envy and hateful jealousy, rendered still more
irritable by the leisure of a cloistered life, are the necessary
consequences of such a comparison; and yet nothing is less Christian--in
the adorable acceptation of that divine word--nothing has less in common
with the true, essential, and religiously social spirit of the gospel,
than this insatiable ardor to acquire wealth by every possible
means--this dangerous avidity, which is far from being atoned for, in the
eyes of public opinion, by a few paltry alms, bestowed in the narrow
spirit of exclusion and intolerance.

Mother Sainte-Perpetue was seated before a large cylindrical-fronted desk
in the centre of an apartment simply but comfortably furnished. An
excellent fire burned within the marble chimney, and a soft carpet
covered the floor. The superior, to whom all letters addressed to the
sisters or the boarders were every day delivered, had just been opening
she first, according to her acknowledged right, and carefully unsealing
the second, without their knowing it, according to a right that she
ascribed to herself, of course, with a view to the salvation of those
dear creatures; and partly, perhaps, a little to make herself acquainted
with their correspondence, for she also had imposed on herself the duty
of reading all letters that were sent from the convent, before they were
put into the post. The traces of this pious and innocent inquisition were
easily effaced, for the good mother possessed a whole arsenal of steel
tools, some very sharp, to cut the pager imperceptibly round the
seal--others, pretty little rods, to be slightly heated and rolled round
the edge of the seal, when the letter had been read and replaced in its
envelope, so that the wax, spreading as it melted, might cover the first
incision. Moreover, from a praiseworthy feeling of justice and equality,
there was in the arsenal of the good mother a little fumigator of the
most ingenious construction, the damp and dissolving vapor of which was
reserved for the letters humbly and modestly secured with wafers, thus
softened, they yielded to the least efforts, without any tearing of the
paper. According to the importance of the revelations, which she thus
gleaned from the writers of the letters, the superior took notes more or
less extensive. She was interrupted in this investigation by two gentle
taps at the bolted door. Mother Sainte-Perpetue immediately let down the
sliding cylinder of her cabinet, so as to cover the secret arsenal, and
went to open the door with a grave and solemn air. A lay sister came to
announce to her that the Princess de Saint-Dizier was waiting for her in
the parlor, and that Mdlle. Florine, accompanied by a young girl,
deformed and badly dressed, was waiting at the door of the little
corridor.

"Introduce the princess first," said Mother Sainte Perpetue. And, with
charming forethought, she drew an armchair to the fire. Mme. de Saint
Dizier entered.

Without pretensions to juvenile coquetry, still the princess was
tastefully and elegantly dressed. She wore a black velvet bonnet of the
most fashionable make, a large blue cashmere shawl, and a black satin
dress, trimmed with sable, to match the fur of her muff.

"To what good fortune am I again to-day indebted for the honor of your
visit, my dear daughter?" said the superior, graciously.

"A very important recommendation, my dear mother, though I am in a great
hurry. I am expected at the house of his Eminence, and have,
unfortunately, only a few minutes to spare. I have again to speak of the
two orphans who occupied our attention so long yesterday."

"They continue to be kept separate, according to your wish; and this
separation has had such an effect upon them that I have been obliged to
send this morning for Dr. Baleinier, from his asylum. He found much fever
joined to great depression, and, singular enough, absolutely the same
symptoms in both cases. I have again questioned these unfortunate
creatures, and have been quite confounded and terrified to find them
perfect heathens."

"It was, you see, very urgent to place them in your care. But to the
subject of my visit, my dear mother: we have just learned the unexpected
return of the soldier who brought these girls to France, and was thought
to be absent for some days; but he is in Paris, and, notwithstanding his
age, a man of extraordinary boldness, enterprise and energy. Should he
discover that the girls are here (which, however, is fortunately almost
impossible), in his rage at seeing them removed from his impious
influence, he would be capable of anything. Therefore let me entreat you,
my dear mother, to redouble your precautions, that no one may effect an
entrance by night. This quarter of the town is so deserted!"

"Be satisfied, my dear daughter; we are sufficiently guarded. Our porter
and gardeners, all well armed, make a round every night on the side of
the Boulevard de l'Hopital. The walls are high, and furnished with spikes
at the more accessible places. But I thank you, my dear daughter, for
having warned me. We will redouble our precautions."

"Particularly this night, my dear mother."

"Why so?"

"Because if this infernal soldier has the audacity to attempt such a
thing, it will be this very night."

"How do you know, my dear daughter?"

"We have information which makes us certain of it," replied the princess,
with a slight embarrassment, which did not escape the notice of the
Superior, though she was too crafty and reserved to appear to see it;
only she suspected that many things were concealed from her.

"This night, then," resumed Mother Sainte-Perpetue, "we will be more than
ever on our guard. But as I have the pleasure of seeing you, my dear
daughter, I will take the opportunity to say a word or two on the subject
of that marriage we mentioned."

"Yes, my dear mother," said the princess, hastily, "for it is very
important. The young Baron de Brisville is a man full of ardent devotion
in these times of revolutionary impiety; he practises openly, and is able
to render us great services. He is listened to in the Chamber, and does
not want for a sort of aggressive and provoking eloquence; I know not any
one whose tone is more insolent with regard to his faith, and the plan is
a good one, for this cavalier and open manner of speaking of sacred
things raises and excites the curiosity of the indifferent. Circumstances
are happily such that he may show the most audacious violence towards our
enemies, without the least danger to himself, which, of course, redoubles
his ardor as a would-be martyr. In a word, he is altogether ours, and we,
in return, must bring about this marriage. You know, besides, my dear
mother, that he proposes to offer a donation of a hundred thousand francs
to St. Mary's the day he gains possession of the fortune of Mdlle.
Baudricourt."

"I have never doubted the excellent intentions of M. de Brisville with
regard to an institution which merits the sympathy of all pious persons,"
answered the superior, discreetly; "but I did not expect to meet with so
many obstacles on the part of the young lady."

"How is that?"

"This girl, whom I always believed a most simple, submissive, timid,
almost idiotic person--instead of being delighted with this proposal of
marriage, asks time to consider!"

"It is really pitiable!"

"She opposes to me an inert resistance. It is in vain for me to speak
severely, and tell her that, having no parents or friends, and being
absolutely confided to my care, she ought to see with my eyes, hear with
my ears, and when I affirm that this union is suitable in all respects,
give her adhesion to it without delay or reflection."

"No doubt. It would be impossible to speak more sensibly."

"She answers that she wishes to see M. de Brisville, and know his
character before being engaged."

"It is absurd--since you undertake to answer for his morality, and esteem
this a proper marriage."

"Therefore, I remarked to Mdlle. Baudricourt, this morning, that till now
I had only employed gentle persuasion, but that, if she forced me to it,
I should be obliged, in her own interest, to act with rigor, to conquer
so much obstinacy that I should have to separate her from her companions,
and to confine her closely in a cell, until she made up her mind, after
all, to consult her own happiness, and--marry an honorable man."

"And these menaces, my dear mother?"

"Will, I hope, have a good effect. She kept up a correspondence with an
old school-friend in the country. I have put a stop to this, for it
appeared to me dangerous. She is now under my sole influence, and I hope
we shall attain our ends; but you see, my dear daughter, it is never
without crosses and difficulties that we succeed in doing good!"

"And I feel certain that M. de Brisville will even go beyond his first
promise, and I will pledge myself for him, that, should he marry Mdlle.
Baudricourt--"

"You know, my dear daughter," said the superior, interrupting the
princess, "that if I were myself concerned, I would refuse everything;
but to give to this institution is to give to Heaven, and I cannot
prevent M. de Brisville from augmenting the amount of his good works.
Then, you see, we are exposed to a sad disappointment."

"What is that, my dear mother?"

"The Sacred Heart Convent disputes an estate with us that would have
suited us exactly. Really, some people are quite insatiable! I gave the
lady superior my opinion upon it pretty freely."

"She told me as much," answered Madame de Saint-Dizier, "and laid the
blame on the steward."

"Oh! so you see her, my dear daughter?" exclaimed the superior, with an
air of great surprise.

"I met her at the bishop's," answered Madame de Saint-Dizier, with a
slight degree of hesitation, that Mother Sainte-Perpetue did not appear
to notice.

"I really do not know," resumed the latter, "why our establishment should
excite so violently the jealousy of the Sacred Heart. There is not an
evil report that they have not spread with regard to St. Mary's Convent.
Certain persons are always offended by the success of their neighbors!"

"Come, my dear mother," said the princess, in a conciliating tone, "we
must hope that the donation of M. de Brisville will enable you to outbid
the Sacred Heart. This marriage will have a double advantage, you see, my
dear mother; it will place a large fortune at the disposal of a man who
is devoted to us, and who will employ it as we wish; and it will also
greatly increase the importance of his position as our defender, by the
addition to his income of 100,000 francs a year. We shall have at length
an organ worthy of our cause, and shall no longer be obliged to look for
defenders amongst such people as that Dumoulin."

"There is great power and much learning in the writings of the man you
name. It is the style of a Saint Bernard, in wrath at the impiety of the
age."

"Alas, my dear mother! if you only knew what a strange Saint Bernard this
Dumoulin is! But I will not offend your ears; all I can tell you is, that
such defenders would compromise the most sacred cause. Adieu, my dear
mother! pray redouble your precautions to-night--the return of this
soldier is alarming."

"Be quite satisfied, my dear daughter! Oh! I forgot. Mdlle. Florine
begged me to ask you a favor. It is to let her enter your service. You
know the fidelity she displayed in watching your unfortunate niece; I
think that, by rewarding her in this way, you will attach her to you
completely, and I shall feel grateful on her account."

"If you interest yourself the least in the world in Florine, my dear
mother, the thing is done. I will take her into my service. And now it
strikes me, she may be more useful to me than I thought."

"A thousand thanks, my dear daughter, for such obliging attention to my
request. I hope we shall soon meet again. The day after to-morrow, at two
o'clock, we have a long conference with his Eminence and the Bishop; do
not forget!"

"No, my dear mother; I shall take care to be exact. Only, pray, redouble
your precautions to-night for fear of a great scandal!"

After respectfully kissing the hand of the superior, the princess went
out by the great door, which led to an apartment opening on the principal
staircase. Some minutes after, Florine entered the room by another way.
The superior was seated and Florine approached her with timid humility.

"Did you meet the Princess de Saint-Dizier?" asked Mother Sainte
Perpetue.

"No, mother; I was waiting in the passage, where the windows look out on
the garden."

"The princess takes you into her service from to-day," said the superior.

Florine made a movement of sorrowful surprise, and exclaimed: "Me,
mother! but--"

"I asked her in your name, and you have only to accept," answered the
other imperiously.

"But, mother, I had entreated you--"

"I tell you, that you accept the offer," said the superior, in so firm
and positive a tone that Florine cast down her eyes, and replied in a low
voice: "I accept."

"It is in M. Rodin's name that I give you this order."

"I thought so, mother," replied Florine, sadly; "on what conditions am I
to serve the princess?"

"On the same conditions as those on which you served her niece."

Florine shuddered and said: "I am, then, to make frequent secret reports
with regard to the princess?"

"You will observe, you will remember, and you will give an account."

"Yes, my mother."

"You will above all direct your attention to the visits that the princess
may receive from the lady superior of the Sacred Heart. You must try and
listen--for we have to preserve the princess from evil influences."

"I will obey, my mother."

"You will also try and discover why two young orphans have been brought
hither, and recommended to be severely treated, by Madame Grivois, the
confidential waiting-woman of the princess."

"Yes, mother."

"Which must not prevent you from remembering anything else that may be
worthy of remark. To-morrow I will give you particular instructions upon
another subject."

"It is well, mother."

"If you conduct yourself in a satisfactory manner, and execute faithfully
the instructions of which I speak, you will soon leave the princess to
enter the service of a young bride; it will be an excellent and lasting
situation always on the same conditions. It is, therefore, perfectly
understood that you have asked me to recommend you to Madame de Saint
Dizier."

"Yes, mother; I shall remember."

"Who is this deformed young girl that accompanies you?"

"A poor creature without any resources, very intelligent, and with an
education above her class; she works at her needle, but is at present
without employment, and reduced to the last extremity. I have made
inquiries about her this morning; she has an excellent character."

"She is ugly and deformed, you say?"

"She has an interesting countenance, but she is deformed."

The superior appeared pleased at this information, and added, after a
moment's reflection: "She appears intelligent?"

"Very intelligent."

"And is absolutely without resources?"

"Yes, without any."

"Is she pious?"

"She does not practice."

"No matter," said the superior to herself; "if she be intelligent, that
will suffice." Then she resumed aloud. "Do you know if she is a good
workwoman?"

"I believe so, mother."

The superior rose, took a register from a shelf, appeared to be looking
into it attentively for some time, and then said, as she replaced it:
"Fetch in this young girl, and go and wait for me in the press-room."

"Deformed--intelligent--clever at her needle," said the superior,
reflecting; "she will excite no suspicion. We must see."

In about a minute, Florine returned with Mother Bunch, whom she
introduced to the superior, and then discreetly withdrew. The young
sempstress was agitated, trembling, and much troubled, for she could, as
it were, hardly believe a discovery which she had chanced to make during
Florine's absence. It was not without a vague sense of terror that the
hunchback remained alone with the lady superior.




CHAPTER VII.

THE TEMPTATION.

This was the cause of Mother Bunch's emotion. Florine, when she went to
see the superior, had left the young sempstress in a passage supplied
with benches, and forming a sort of ante-chamber on the first story.
Being alone, the girl had mechanically approached a window which looked
upon the convent garden, shut in by a half demolished wall, and
terminating at one end in an open paling. This wall was connected with a
chapel that was still building, and bordered on the garden of a
neighboring house. The sewing-girl, at one of the windows on the ground
floor of this house--a grated window, still more remarkable by the sort
of tent-like awning above it--beheld a young female, with her eyes fixed
upon the convent, making signs with her hand, at once encouraging and
affectionate. From the window where she stood, Mother Bunch could not see
to whom these signs were addressed; but she admired the rare beauty of
the telegrapher, the brilliancy of her complexion, the shining blackness
of her large eyes, the sweet and benevolent smile which lingered on her
lips. There was, no doubt, some answer to her graceful and expressive
pantomime, for, by a movement full of elegance, the girl laid her left
hand on her bosom, and waved her right, which seemed to indicate that her
heart flew towards the place on which she kept her eyes. One faint
sunbeam, piercing the clouds, came at this moment to play with the
tresses of the pale countenance, which, now held close to the bars of the
window, was suddenly, as it were, illuminated by the dazzling reflection
of her splendid golden hair. At sight of that charming face, set in its
admirable frame of red curls, Mother Bunch started involuntarily; the
thought of Mdlle. de Cardoville crossed her mind, and she felt persuaded
(nor was she, indeed, mistaken), that the protectress of Agricola was
before her. On thus beholding, in that gloomy asylum, this young lady, so
marvellously beautiful, and remembering the delicate kindness with which
a few days before she had received Agricola in her luxurious little
palace of dazzling splendor, the work-girl felt her heart sink within
her. She believed Adrienne insane; and yet, as she looked attentively at
her, it seemed as if intelligence and grace animated that adorable
countenance. Suddenly, Mdlle. de Cardoville laid her fingers upon her
lips, blew a couple of kisses in the direction towards which she had been
looking, and all at once disappeared. Reflecting upon the important
revelations which Agricola had to make to Mdlle. de Cardoville, Mother
Bunch regretted bitterly that she had no means of approaching her; for
she felt sure that, if the young lady were mad, the present was a lucid
interval. She was yet absorbed in these uneasy reflections, when she saw
Florine return, accompanied by one of the nuns. Mother Bunch was obliged,
therefore, to keep silence with regard to the discovery she had made, and
soon after she found herself in the superior's presence. This latter,
after a rapid and searching examination of the countenance of the young
workwoman, judged her appearance so timid, gentle and honest, that she
thought she might repose full confidence in the information given by
Florine.

"My dear daughter," said Mother Sainte-Perpetue, in an affectionate
voice, "Florine has told me in what a cruel situation you are placed. Is
it true that you are entirely without work?"

"Alas! yes, madame."

"Call me mother, my dear daughter; that name is dearer to me, and it is
the rule of our house. I need not ask you what are your principles?"

"I have always lived honestly by my labor, mother," answered the girl,
with a simplicity at once dignified and modest.

"I believe you, my dear daughter, and I have good reasons for so doing.
We must thank the Lord, who has delivered you from temptation; but tell
me--are you clever at your trade?"

"I do my best, mother, and have always satisfied my employers. If you
please to try me, you will be able to judge."

"Your affirmation is sufficient, my dear daughter. You prefer, I think,
to go out by the day?"

"Mdlle. Florine told me, mother, that I could not have work at home."

"Why, no--not for the present, my child. If hereafter an opportunity
should offer, I will think of it. Just now I have this to propose to you.
A very respectable old lady has asked me to recommend to her a
needle-woman by the day; introduced by me, you will certainly suit her.
The institution will undertake to clothe you becomingly, and this advance
we shall retain by degrees out of your wages, for you will look to us for
payment. We propose to give you two francs a day; does that appear to you
sufficient?"

"Oh, mother! it is much more than I could have expected."

"You will, moreover, only be occupied from nine o'clock in the morning
till six in the evening; you will thus have still some off hours, of
which you might make use. You see, the situation is not a hard one."

"Oh! quite the contrary, mother."

"I must tell you, first of all, with whom the institution intends to
place you. It is a widow lady, named Mme. de Bremant, a person of the
most steadfast piety. In her house, I hope, you will meet with none but
excellent examples. If it should be otherwise, you can come and inform
me."

"How so, mother?" said the sewing-girl, with surprise.

"Listen to me, my dear daughter," said Mother Sainte-Perpetue, in a tone
ever more and more affectionate; "the institution of St. Mary has a
double end in view. You will perfectly understand that, if it is our duty
to give to masters and mistresses every possible security as to the
morality of the persons that we place in their families, we are likewise
bound to give to the persons that we so place out every possible security
as to the morality of their employers."

"Nothing can be more just and of a wiser foresight, mother."

"Naturally, my dear daughter; for even as a servant of bad morals may
cause the utmost trouble in a respectable family, so the bad conduct of a
master or mistress may have the most baneful influence on the persons who
serve them, or who come to work in their houses. Now, it is to offer a
mutual guarantee to good masters and honest servants, that we have
founded this institution."

"Oh, madame!" cried Mother Bunch, with simplicity; "such designs merit
the thanks and blessings of every one."

"And blessings do not fail us, my dear daughter, because we perform our
promises. Thus, an interesting workwoman--such as you, for example--is
placed with persons that we suppose irreproachable. Should she, however,
perceive, on the part of her employers, or on that of the persons who
frequent the house, any irregularity of morals, any tendency to what
would offend her modesty, or shock her religious principles, she should
immediately give us a detailed account of the circumstances that have
caused her alarm. Nothing can be more proper--don't you think so?"