The Wandering Jew, Complete

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"In fact, sir," resumed Adrienne, "I fear that you are deceived by your
dislike (a very legitimate one) of Abbe d'Aigrigny, and that you ascribe
to him an almost fabulous degree of power and extent of influence."

After a moment's silence, during which Rodin looked first at Adrienne and
then at Dagobert, with a kind of pity, he resumed. "How could the Abbe
d'Aigrigny have your cross in his possession, if he had no connection
with Morok?"

"That is true, sir," said Dagobert; "joy prevented me from reflecting.
But how indeed, did my cross come into your hands?"

"By means of the Abbe d'Aigrigny's having precisely those relations with
Leipsic, of which you and the young lady seem to doubt."

"But how did my cross get to Paris?"

"Tell me; you were arrested at Leipsic for want of papers--is it not so?"

"Yes; but I could never understand how my passports and money disappeared
from my knapsack. I thought I must have had the misfortune to lose them."

Rodin shrugged his shoulders, and replied: "You were robbed of them at
the White Falcon Inn, by Goliath, one of Morok's servants, and the latter
sent the papers and the cross to the Abbe d'Aigrigny, to prove that he
had succeeded in executing his orders with respect to the orphans and
yourself. It was the day before yesterday, that I obtained the key of
that dark machination. Cross and papers were amongst the stores of Abbe
d'Aigrigny; the papers formed a considerable bundle, and he might have
missed them; but, hoping to see you this morning, and knowing how a
soldier of the Empire values his cross, his sacred relic, as you call it,
my good friend--I did not hesitate. I put the relic into my pocket.
'After all,' said I, 'it is only restitution, and my delicacy perhaps
exaggerates this breach of trust.'"

"You could not have done a better action," said Adrienne; "and, for my
part, because of the interest I feel for M. Dagobert--I take it as a
personal favor. But, sir," after a moment's silence, she resumed with
anxiety: "What terrible power must be at the command of M. d'Aigrigny,
for him to have such extensive and formidable relations in a foreign
country!"

"Silence!" said Rodin, in a low voice, and looking round him with an air
of alarm. "Silence! In heaven's name do not ask me about it!"




CHAPTER XXXVIII.

REVELATIONS.

Mdlle. de Cardoville, much astonished at the alarm displayed by Rodin,
when she had asked him for some explanation of the formidable and far
reaching power of the Abby d'Aigrigny, said to him: "Why, sir, what is
there so strange in the question that I have just asked you?"

After a moment's silence, Rodin cast his looks all around, with well
feigned uneasiness, and replied in a whisper: "Once more, madame, do not
question me on so fearful a subject. The walls of this house may have
ears."

Adrienne and Dagobert looked at each other with growing surprise. Mother
Bunch, by an instinct of incredible force, continued to regard Rodin with
invincible suspicion. Sometimes she stole a glance at him, as if trying
to penetrate the mask of this man, who filled her with fear. At one
moment, the Jesuit encountered her anxious gaze, obstinately fixed upon
him; immediately he nodded to her with the greatest amenity. The young
girl, alarmed at finding herself observed, turned away with a shudder.

"No, no, my dear young lady," resumed Rodin, with a sigh, as he saw
Mdlle. de Cardoville astonished at his silence; "do not question me on
the subject of the Abbe d'Aigrigny's power!"

"But, to persist, sir," said Adrienne; "why this hesitation to answer?
What do you fear?"

"Ah, my dear young lady," said Rodin, shuddering, "those people are so
powerful! their animosity is so terrible!"

"Be satisfied, sir; I owe you too much, for my support ever to fail you."

"Ah, my dear young lady," cried Rodin, as if hurt by the supposition;
"think better of me, I entreat you. Is it for myself that I fear?--No,
no; I am too obscure, too inoffensive; but it is for you, for Marshal
Simon, for the other members of your family, that all is to be feared.
Oh, my dear young lady! let me beg you to ask no questions. There are
secrets which are fatal to those who possess them."

"But, sir, is it not better to know the perils with which one is
threatened?"

"When you know the manoeuvres of your enemy, you may at least defend
yourself," said Dagobert. "I prefer an attack in broad daylight to an
ambuscade."

"And I assure you," resumed Adrienne, "the few words you have spoken
cause me a vague uneasiness."

"Well, if I must, my dear young lady," replied the Jesuit, appearing to
make a great effort, "since you do not understand my hints, I will be
more explicit; but remember," added he, in a deeply serious tone, "that
you have persevered in forcing me to tell you what you had perhaps better
not have known."

"Speak, Sir, I pray you speak," said Adrienne.

Drawing about him Adrienne, Dagobert, and Mother Bunch, Rodin said to
them in a low voce, and with a mysterious air: "Have you never heard of a
powerful association, which extends its net over all the earth, and
counts its disciples, agents, and fanatics in every class of society
which has had, and often has still, the ear of kings and nobles--which,
in a word, can raise its creatures to the highest positions, and with a
word can reduce them again to the nothingness from which it alone could
uplift them?"

"Good heaven, sir!" said Adrienne, "what formidable association? Until
now I never heard of it."

"I believe you; and yet your ignorance on this subject greatly astonishes
me, my dear young lady."

"And why should it astonish you?"

"Because you lived some time with your aunt, and must have often seen the
Abbe d'Aigrigny."

"I lived at the princess's, but not with her; for a thousand reasons she
had inspired me with warrantable aversion."

"In truth, my dear young lady, my remark was ill-judged. It was there,
above all, and particularly in your presence, that they would keep
silence with regard to this association--and yet to it alone did the
Princess de Saint-Dizier owe her formidable influence in the world,
during the last reign. Well, then; know this--it is the aid of that
association which renders the Abbe d'Aigrigny so dangerous a man.

"By it he was enabled to follow and to reach divers members of your
family, some in Siberia, some in India, others on the heights of the
American mountains; but, as I have told you, it was only the day before
yesterday, and by chance, that, examining the papers of Abbe d'Aigrigny,
I found the trace of his connection with this Company, of which he is the
most active and able chief."

"But the name, sir, the name of this Company?" said Adrienne.

"Well! it is--" but Rodin stopped short.

"It is," repeated Adrienne, who was now as much interested as Dagobert
and the sempstress; "it is--"

Rodin looked round him, beckoned all the actors in this scene to draw
nearer, and said in a whisper, laying great stress upon the words: "It
is--the Society of Jesus!" and he again shuddered.

"The Jesuits!" cried Mdlle. de Cardoville, unable to restrain a burst of
laughter, which was the more buoyant, as, from the mysterious precautions
of Rodin, she had expected some very different revelation. "The Jesuits!"
she resumed, still laughing. "They have no existence, except in books;
they are frightful historical personages, certainly; but why should you
put forward Madame de Saint-Dizier and M. d'Aigrigny in that character?
Such as they are, they have done quite enough to justify my aversion and
disdain."

After listening in silence to Mdlle. de Cardoville Rodin continued, with
a grave and agitated air: "Your blindness frightens me, my dear, young
lady; the past should have given you some anxiety for the future, since,
more than any one, you have already suffered from the fatal influence of
this Company, whose existence you regard as a dream!"

"I, sir?" said Adrienne, with a smile, although a little surprised.

"You."

"Under what circumstances?"

"You ask me this question! my dear young lady! you ask me this
question!--and yet you have been confined here as a mad person! Is it not
enough to tell you that the master of this house is one of the most
devoted lay members of the Company, and therefore the blind instrument of
the Abbe d'Aigrigny?"

"So," said Adrienne, this time without smiling, "Dr. Baleinier"

"Obeyed the Abbe d'Aigrigny, the most formidable chief of that formidable
society. He employs his genius for evil; but I must confess he is a man
of genius. Therefore, it is upon him that you and yours must fix all your
doubts and suspicions; it is against him that you must be upon your
guard. For, believe me, I know him, and he does not look upon the game as
lost. You must be prepared for new attacks, doubtless of another kind,
but only the more dangerous on that account--"

"Luckily, you give us notice," said Dagobert, "and you will be on our
side."

"I can do very little, my good friends; but that little is at the service
of honest people," said Rodin.

"Now," said Adrienne, with a thoughtful air, completely persuaded by
Rodin's air of conviction, "I can explain the inconceivable influence
that my aunt exercised in the world. I ascribed it chiefly to her
relations with persons in power; I thought that she, like the Abbe
d'Aigrigny, was concerned in dark intrigues, for which religion served as
a veil--but I was far from believing what you tell me."

"How many things you have got to learn!" resumed Rodin. "If you knew, my
dear young lady, with what art these people surround you, without your
being aware of it, by agents devoted to themselves! Every one of your
steps is known to them, when they have any interest in such knowledge.
Thus, little by little, they act upon you--slowly, cautiously, darkly.
They circumvent you by every possible means, from flattery to
terror--seduce or frighten, in order at last to rule you, without your
being conscious of their authority. Such is their object, and I must
confess they pursue it with detestable ability."

Rodin had spoken with so much sincerity, that Adrienne trembled; then,
reproaching herself with these fears, she resumed: "And yet, no--I can
never believe in so infernal a power; the might of priestly ambition
belongs to another age. Heaven be praised, it has disappeared forever!"

"Yes, certainly, it is out of sight; for they now know how to disperse
and disappear, when circumstances require it. But then are they the most
dangerous; for suspicion is laid asleep, and they keep watch in the dark.
Oh! my dear young lady, if you knew their frightful ability! In my hatred
of all that is oppressive, cowardly, and hypocritical, I had studied the
history of that terrible society, before I knew that the Abbe d'Aigrigny
belonged to it. Oh! it is dreadful. If you knew what means they employ!
When I tell you that, thanks to their diabolical devices, the most pure
and devoted appearances often conceal the most horrible snares." Rodin's
eye rested, as if by chance, on the hunchback; but, seeing that Adrienne
did not take the hint, the Jesuit continued: "In a word--are you not
exposed to their pursuits?--have they any interest in gaining you
over?--oh! from that moment, suspect all that surround you, suspect the
most noble attachments, the most tender affections, for these monsters
sometimes succeed in corrupting your best friends, and making a terrible
use of them, in proportion to the blindness of your confidence."

"Oh! it is impossible," cried Adrienne, in horror. "You must exaggerate.
No! hell itself never dreamed of more frightful treachery!"

"Alas, my dear young lady! one of your relations, M. Hardy--the most
loyal and generous-hearted man that could be--has been the victim of some
such infamous treachery. Do you know what we learned from the reading of
your ancestor's will? Why, that he died the victim of the malevolence of
these people; and now, at the lapse of a hundred and fifty years, his
descendants are still exposed to the hate of that indestructible
society."

"Oh, sir! it terrifies me," said Adrienne, feeling her heart sink within
her. "But are there no weapons against such attacks?"

"Prudence, my dear young lady--the most watchful caution--the most
incessant study and suspicion of all that approach you."

"But such a life would be frightful! It is a torture to be the victim of
continual suspicions, doubts, and fears."

"Without doubt! They know it well, the wretches! That constitutes their
strength. They often triumph by the very excess of the precautions taken
against them. Thus, my dear young lady, and you, brave and worthy
soldier, in the name of all that is dear to you, be on your guard, and do
not lightly impart your confidence. Be on your guard, for you have nearly
fallen the victims of those people. They will always be your implacable
enemies. And you, also, poor, interesting girl!" added the Jesuit,
speaking to Mother Bunch, "follow my advice--fear these people. Sleep, as
the proverb says, with one eye open."

"I, sir!" said the work-girl. "What have I done? what have I to fear?"

"What have you done? Dear me! Do not you tenderly love this young lady,
your protectress? have you not attempted to assist her? Are you not the
adopted sister of the son of this intrepid soldier, the brave Agricola!
Alas, poor, girl! are not these sufficient claims to their hatred, in
spite of your obscurity? Nay, my dear young lady! do not think that I
exaggerate. Reflect! only reflect! Think what I have just said to the
faithful companion-in-arms of Marshal Simon, with regard to his
imprisonment at Leipsic. Think what happened to yourself, when, against
all law and reason, you were brought hither. Then you will see, that
there is nothing exaggerated in the picture I have drawn of the secret
power of this Company. Be always on your guard, and, in doubtful cases,
do not fear to apply to me. In three days, I have learned enough by my
own experience, with regard to their manner of acting, to be able to
point out to you many a snare, device, and danger, and to protect you
from them."

"In any such case, sir," replied Mdlle. de Cardoville, "my interests, as
well as gratitude, would point to you as my best counsellor."

According to the skillful tactics of the sons of Loyola, who sometimes
deny their own existence, in order to escape from an adversary--and
sometimes proclaim with audacity the living power of their organization,
in order to intimidate the feeble-R-odin had laughed in the face of the
bailiff of Cardoville, when the latter had spoken of the existence of the
Jesuits; while now, at this moment, picturing their means of action, he
endeavored, and he succeeded in the endeavor, to impregnate the mind of
Mdlle. de Cardoville with some germs of doubt, which were gradually to
develop themselves by reflection, and serve hereafter the dark projects
that he meditated. Mother Bunch still felt considerable alarm with regard
to Rodin. Yet, since she had heard the fatal powers of the formidable
Order revealed to Adrienne, the young sempstress, far from suspecting the
Jesuit of having the audacity to speak thus of a society of which he was
himself a member, felt grateful to him, in spite of herself, for the
important advice that he had just given her patroness. The side-glance
which she now cast upon him (which Rodin also detected, for he watched
the young girl with sustained attention), was full of gratitude, mingled
with surprise. Guessing the nature of this impression, and wishing
entirely to remove her unfavorable opinion, and also to anticipate a
revelation which would be made sooner or later, the Jesuit appeared to
have forgotten something of great importance, and exclaimed, striking his
forehead: "What was I thinking of?" Then, speaking to Mother Bunch, he
added: "Do you know where your sister is, my dear girl?" Disconcerted and
saddened by this unexpected question, the workwoman answered with a
blush, for she remembered her last interview with the brilliant Bacchanal
Queen: "I have not seen my sister for some days, sir."

"Well, my dear girl, she is not very comfortable," said Rodin; "I
promised one of her friends to send her some little assistance. I have
applied to a charitable person, and that is what I received for her." So
saying, he drew from his pocket a sealed roll of coin, which he delivered
to Mother Bunch, who was now both surprised and affected.

"You have a sister in trouble, and I know nothing of it?" said Adrienne,
hastily. "This is not right of you, my child!"

"Do not blame her," said Rodin. "First of all, she did not know that her
sister was in distress, and, secondly, she could not ask you, my dear
young lady, to interest yourself about her."

As Mdlle. de Cardoville looked at Rodin with astonishment, he added,
again speaking to the hunchback: "Is not that true, my dear girl!"

"Yes, sir," said the sempstress, casting down her eyes and blushing. Then
she added, hastily and anxiously: "But when did you see my sister, sir?
where is she? how did she fall into distress?"

"All that would take too long to tell you, my dear girl; but go as soon
as possible to the greengrocer's in the Rue Clovis, and ask to speak to
your sister as from M. Charlemagne or M. Rodin, which you please, for I
am equally well known in that house by my Christian name as by my
surname, and then you will learn all about it. Only tell your sister,
that, if she behaves well, and keeps to her good resolutions, there are
some who will continue to look after her."

More and more surprised, Mother Bunch was about to answer Rodin, when the
door opened, and M. de Gernande entered. The countenance of the
magistrate was grave and sad.

"Marshal Simon's daughters!" cried Mdlle. de Cardoville.

"Unfortunately, they are not with me," answered the judge.

"Then, where are they, sir? What have they done with them? The day before
yesterday, they were in the convent!" cried Dagobert, overwhelmed by this
complete destruction of his hopes.

Hardly had the soldier pronounced these words, when, profiting by the
impulse which gathered all the actors in this scene about the magistrate,
Rodin withdrew discreetly towards the door, and disappeared without any
one perceiving his absence. Whilst the soldier, thus suddenly thrown back
to the depths of his despair, looked at M. de Gernande, waiting with
anxiety for the answer, Adrienne said to the magistrate: "But, sir, when
you applied at the convent, what explanation did the superior give on the
subject of these young girls?"

"The lady superior refused to give any explanation, madame. 'You
pretend,' said she, 'that the young persons of whom you speak are
detained here against their will. Since the law gives you the right of
entering this house, make your search.' 'But, madame, please to answer me
positively,' said I to the superior; 'do you declare, that you know
nothing of the young girls, whom I have come to claim?' 'I have nothing
to say on this subject, sir. You assert, that you are authorized to make
a search: make it.' Not being able to get any other explanation,"
continued the magistrate, "I searched all parts of the convent, and had
every door opened--but, unfortunately, I could find no trace of these
young ladies."

"They must have sent them elsewhere," cried Dagobert; "who
knows?--perhaps, ill. They will kill them--O God! they will kill them!"
cried he, in a heart-rending tone.

"After such a refusal, what is to be done? Pray, sir, give us your
advice; you are our providence," said Adrienne, turning to speak to
Rodin, who she fancied was behind her. "What is your--"

Then, perceiving that the Jesuit had suddenly disappeared, she said to
Mother Bunch, with uneasiness: "Where is M. Rodin?"

"I do not know, madame," answered the girl, looking round her; "he is no
longer here."

"It is strange," said Adrienne, "to disappear so abruptly!"

"I told you he was a traitor!" cried Dagobert, stamping with rage; "they
are all in a plot together."

"No, no," said Mdlle. de Cardoville; "do not think that. But the absence
is not the less to be regretted, for, under these difficult
circumstances, he might have given us very useful information, thanks to
the position he occupied at M. d'Aigrigny's."

"I confess, madame, that I rather reckoned upon it," said M. de Gernande;
"and I returned hither, not only to inform you of the fruitless result of
my search, but also to seek from the upright and honorable roan, who so
courageously unveiled these odious machinations, the aid of his counsels
in this contingency."

Strangely enough, for the last few moments Dagobert was so completely
absorbed in thought, that he paid no attention to the words of the
magistrate, however important to him. He did not even perceive the
departure of M. de Gernande, who retired after promising Adrienne that he
would neglect no means to arrive at the truth, in regard to the
disappearance of the orphans. Uneasy at this silence, wishing to quit the
house immediately, and induce Dagobert to accompany her, Adrienne, after
exchanging a rapid glance with Mother Bunch, was advancing towards the
soldier, when hasty steps were heard from without the chamber, and a
manly sonorous voice, exclaiming with impatience, "Where is he--where is
he?"

At the sound of this voice, Dagobert seemed to rouse himself with a
start, made a sudden bound, and with a loud cry, rushed towards the door.
It opened. Marshal Simon appeared on the threshold!




CHAPTER XXXIX.

PIERRE SIMON.

Marshal Pierre Simon, Duke de Ligny, was a man of tall stature, plainly
dressed in a blue frock-coat, buttoned up to the throat, with a red
ribbon tied to the top buttonhole. You could not have wished to see a
more frank, honest, and chivalrous cast of countenance than the
marshal's. He had a broad forehead, an aquiline nose, a well formed chin,
and a complexion bronzed by exposure to the Indian sun. His hair, cut
very short, was inclined to gray about the temples; but his eyebrows were
still as black as his large, hanging moustache. His walk was free and
bold, and his decided movements showed his military impetuosity. A man of
the people, a man of war and action, the frank cordiality of his address
invited friendliness and sympathy. As enlightened as he was intrepid as
generous as he was sincere, his manly, plebeian pride was the most
remarkable part of his character. As others are proud of their high
birth, so was he of his obscure origin, because it was ennobled by the
fine qualities of his father, the rigid republican, the intelligent and
laborious artisan, who, for the space of forty years, had been the
example and the glory of his fellow-workmen. In accepting with gratitude
the aristocratic title which the Emperor had bestowed upon him, Pierre
Simon acted with that delicacy which receives from a friendly hand a
perfectly useless gift, and estimates it according to the intention of
the giver. The religious veneration of Pierre Simon for the Emperor had
never been blind; in proportion as his devotion and love for his idol
were instructive and necessary, his admiration was serious, and founded
upon reason. Far from resembling those swashbucklers who love fighting
for its own sake, Marshal Simon not only admired his hero as the greatest
captain in the world, but he admired him, above all, because he knew that
the Emperor had only accepted war in the hope of one day being able to
dictate universal peace; for if peace obtained by glory and strength is
great, fruitful, and magnificent, peace yielded by weakness and cowardice
is sterile, disastrous, and dishonoring. The son of a workman, Pierre
Simon still further admired the Emperor, because that imperial parvenu
had always known how to make that popular heart beat nobly, and,
remembering the people, from the masses of whom he first arose, had
invited them fraternally to share in regal and aristocratic pomp.

When Marshal Simon entered the room, his countenance was much agitated.
At sight of Dagobert, a flash of joy illumined his features; he rushed
towards the soldier, extending his arms, and exclaimed, "My friend! my
old friend!"

Dagobert answered this affectionate salute with silent emotion. Then the
marshal, disengaging himself from his arms, and fixing his moist eyes
upon him, said to him in so agitated a voice that his lips trembled,
"Well, didst arrive in time for the 13th of February?"

"Yes, general; but everything is postponed for four months."

"And--my wife?--my child?" At this question Dagobert shuddered, hung down
his head, and was silent.

"They are not, then, here?" asked Simon, with more surprise than
uneasiness. "They told me they were not at your house, but that I should
find you here--and I came immediately. Are they not with you?"

"General," said Dagobert, becoming deadly pale; "general--" Drying the
drops of cold sweat that stood upon his forehead, he was unable to
articulate a word, for his voice was checked in his parched throat.

"You frighten me!" exclaimed Pierre Simon, becoming pale as the soldier,
and seizing him by the arm.