The Wandering Jew, Complete

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


"How rightly has he guessed that you would love us!"

"Well, well, children; pass over that!--Let's come to the part where the
general speaks of my little Agricola, and of Gabriel, my wife's adopted
child. Poor woman! when I think that in three months perhaps--but come,
child, read, read," added the old soldier, wishing to conceal his
emotion.

"I still hope against hope, my dear Eva, that these pages will one day
reach you, and therefore I wish to insert in them all that can be
interesting to Dagobert. It will be a consolation to him, to have some
news of his family. My father, who is still foreman at Mr. Hardy's, tells
me that worthy man has also taken into his house the son of old Dagobert.
Agricola works under my father, who is enchanted with him. He is, he
tells me, a tall and vigorous lad, who wields the heavy forge hammer as
if it were a feather, and is light-spirited as he is intelligent and
laborious. He is the best workman on the establishment; and this does not
prevent him in the evening, after his hard day's work, when he returns
home to his mother, whom he truly loves, from making songs and writing
excellent patriotic verses. His poetry is full of fire and energy; his
fellow-workmen sing nothing else, and his lays have the power to warm the
coldest and the most timid hearts."

"How proud you must be of your son, Dagobert," said Rose, in admiration;
"he writes songs."

"Certainly, it is all very fine--but what pleases me best is, that he is
good to his mother, and that he handles the hammer with a will. As for
the songs, before he makes a 'Rising of the People,' or a 'Marseillaise,'
he will have had to beat a good deal of iron; but where can this rascally
sweet Agricola have learned to make songs at all?--No doubt, it was at
school, where he went, as you will see, with his adopted brother
Gabriel."

At this name of Gabriel, which reminded them of the imaginary being whom
they called their guardian angel, the curiosity of the young girls was
greatly excited. With redoubled attention, Blanche continued in these
words:

"The adopted brother of Agricola, the poor deserted child whom the wife
of our good Dagobert so generously took in, forms, my father tells me, a
great contrast with Agricola; not in heart, for they have both excellent
hearts; but Gabriel is as thoughtful and melancholy as Agricola is
lively, joyous, and active. Moreover, adds my father, each of them, so to
speak, has the aspect, which belongs to his character. Agricola is dark,
tall, and strong, with a gay and bold air; Gabriel, on the contrary, is
weak, fair, timid as a girl, and his face wears an expression of angelic
mildness."

The orphans looked at each other in surprise; then, as they turned
towards the soldier their ingenuous countenances, Rose said to him; "Have
you heard, Dagobert? Father says, that your Gabriel is fair, and has the
face of an angel. Why, 'tis exactly like ours!"

"Yes, yes, I heard very well; it is that which surprised me, in your
dream."

"I should like to know, if he has also blue eyes," said Rose.

"As for that, my children, though the general says nothing about it, I
will answer for it: your fair boys have always blue eyes. But, blue or
black, he will not use them to stare at young ladies; go on, and you will
see why."

Blanche resumed:

"His face wears an expression of angelic mildness. One of the Brothers of
the Christian Schools, where he went with Agricola and other children of
his quarter, struck with his intelligence and good disposition, spoke of
him to a person of consequence, who, becoming interested in the lad,
placed him in a seminary for the clergy, and, since the last two years,
Gabriel is a priest. He intends devoting himself to foreign missions, and
will soon set out for America."

"Your Gabriel is a priest, it appears?" said Rose, looking at Dagobert.

"While ours is an angel," added Blanche.

"Which only proves that yours is a step higher than mine. Well, every one
to his taste; there are good people in all trades; but I prefer that it
should be Gabriel who has chosen the black gown. I'd rather see my boy
with arms bare, hammer in hand, and a leathern apron round him, neither
more nor less than your old grandfather, my children--the father of
Marshal Simon, Duke of Ligny--for, after all, marshal and duke he is by
the grace of the Emperor. Now finish your letter."

"Soon, alas, yes!" said Blanche; "there are only a few lines left." And
she proceeded:

"Thus, my dear, loving Eva, if this journal should ever reach its
destination, you will be able to satisfy Dagobert as to the position of
his wife and son, whom he left for our sakes. How can we ever repay such
a sacrifice? But I feel sure, that your good and generous heart will have
found some means of compensation.

"Adieu!--Again adieu, for to-day, my beloved Eva; I left off writing for
a moment, to visit the tent of Djalma. He slept peacefully, and his
father watched beside him; with a smile, he banished my fears. This
intrepid young man is no longer in any danger. May he still be spared in
the combat of to-morrow! Adieu, my gentle Eva! the night is silent and
calm; the fires of the bivouac are slowly dying out, and our poor
mountaineers repose after this bloody day; I can hear, from hour to hour,
the distant all's well of our sentinels. Those foreign words bring back
my grief; they remind me of what I sometimes forget in writing--that I am
faraway, separated from you and from my child! Poor, beloved beings! what
will be your destiny? Ah! if I could only send you, in time, that medal,
which, by a fatal accident, I carried away with me from Warsaw, you
might, perhaps, obtain leave to visit France, or at least to send our
child there with Dagobert; for you know of what importance--But why add
this sorrow to all the rest? Unfortunately, the years are passing away,
the fatal day will arrive, and this last hope, in which I live for you,
will also be taken from me: but I will not close the evening by so sad a
thought. Adieu, my beloved Eva! Clasp our child to your bosom, and cover
it with all the kisses which I send to both of you from the depths of
exile!"

"Till to-morrow--after the battle!"

The reading of this touching letter was followed by long silence. The
tears of Rose and Blanche flowed together. Dagobert, with his head
resting on his hand, was absorbed in painful reflections.

Without doors, the wind had now augmented in violence; a heavy rain began
to beat on the sounding panes; the most profound silence reigned in the
interior of the inn. But, whilst the daughters of General Simon were
reading with such deep emotion, these fragments of their father's
journal, a strange and mysterious scene transpired in the menagerie of
the brute-tamer.




CHAPTER IX.

THE CAGES.

Morok had prepared himself. Over his deer-skin vest he had drawn the coat
of mail--that steel tissue, as pliable as cloth, as hard as diamonds;
next, clothing his arms and legs in their proper armor, and his feet in
iron-bound buskins, and concealing all this defensive equipment under
loose trousers and an ample pelisse carefully buttoned, he took in his
hand a long bar of iron, white-hot, set in a wooden handle.

Though long ago daunted by the skill and energy of the Prophet, his tiger
Cain, his lion Judas, and his black panther Death, had sometimes
attempted, in a moment of rebellion, to try their fangs and claws on his
person; but, thanks to the armor concealed beneath his pelisse, they
blunted their claws upon a skin of steel, and notched their fangs upon
arms or legs of iron, whilst a slight touch of their master's metallic
wand left a deep furrow in their smoking, shrivelled flesh.

Finding the inutility of their efforts, and endowed with strong memory,
the beasts soon learned that their teeth and claws were powerless when
directed against this invulnerable being. Hence, their terrified
submission reached to such a point that, in his public representations,
their master could make them crouch and cower at his feet by the least
movement of a little wand covered with flame-colored paper.

The Prophet, thus armed with care, and holding in his hand the iron made
hot by Goliath, descended by the trapdoor of the loft into the large shed
beneath, in which were deposited the cages of his animals. A mere wooden
partition separated this shed from the stable that contained his horses.

A lantern, with a reflector, threw a vivid light on the cages. They were
four in number. A wide iron grating formed their sides, turning at one
end upon hinges like a door, so as to give ingress to the animal; the
bottom of each den rested on two axle-trees and four small iron castors,
so that they could easily be removed to the large covered wagon in which
they were placed during a journey. One of them was empty; the other three
contained, as already intimated, a panther, a tiger, and a lion.

The panther, originally from Java, seemed to merit the gloomy name of
Death, by her grim, ferocious aspect. Completely black, she lay crouching
and rolled up in the bottom of her cage, and her dark hues mingling with
the obscurity which surrounded her, nothing was distinctly visible but
fixed and glaring eyes--yellow balls of phosphoric light, which only
kindled, as it were, in the night-time; for it is the nature of all the
animals of the feline species to enjoy entire clearness of vision but in
darkness.

The Prophet entered the stable in silence: the dark red of his long
pelisse contrasted with the pale yellow of his straight hair and beard;
the lantern, placed at some height above the ground, threw its rays full
upon this man, and the strong light, opposed to the deep shadows around
it, gave effect to the sharp proportions of his bony and savage looking
figure.

He approached the cage slowly. The white rim, which encircled his
eyeball, appeared to dilate, and his look rivaled in motionless
brilliancy the steadily sparkling gaze of the panther. Still crouching in
the shade, she felt already the fascination of that glance; two or three
times she dropped her eyelids, with a low, angry howl; then, reopening
her eyes, as if in spite of herself, she kept them fastened immovably on
those of the Prophet. And now her rounded ears clung to her skull, which
was flattened like a viper's; the skin of her forehead became
convulsively wrinkled; she drew in her bristling, but silky muzzle, and
twice silently opened her jaws, garnished with formidable fangs. From
that moment a kind of magnetic connection seemed to be established
between the man and the beast.

The Prophet extended his glowing bar towards the cage, and said, in a
sharp, imperious tone: "Death! come here."

The panther rose, but so dragged herself along that her belly and the
bend of her legs touched the ground. She was three feet high, and nearly
five in length; her elastic and fleshy spine, the sinews of her thighs as
well developed as those of a race-horse, her deep chest, her enormous
jutting shoulders, the nerve and muscle in her short, thick paws--all
announced that this terrible animal united vigor with suppleness, and
strength with agility.

Morok, with his iron wand still extended in the direction of the cage,
made a step towards the panther. The panther made a stride towards the
Prophet. Morok stopped; Death stopped also.

At this moment the tiger, Judas, to whom Morok's back was turned, bounded
violently in his cage, as if jealous of the attention, which his master
paid to the panther. He growled hoarsely, and, raising his head, showed
the under-part of his redoubtable triangular jaw, and his broad chest of
a dirty white, with which blended the copper color, streaked with black,
of his sides; his tail, like a huge red serpent, with rings of ebony, now
clung to his flanks, now lashed them with a slow and continuous movement:
his eyes, of a transparent, brilliant green, were fixed upon the Prophet.

Such was the influence of this man over his animals, that Judas almost
immediately ceased growling, as if frightened at his own temerity; but
his respiration continued loud and deep. Morok turned his face towards
him, and examined him very attentively during some seconds. The panther,
no longer subject to the influence of her master's look, slunk back to
crouch in the shade.

A sharp cracking, in sudden breaks, like that which great animals make in
gnawing hard substances, was now heard from the cage of the lion. It drew
the attention of the Prophet, who, leaving the tiger, advanced towards
the other den.

Nothing could be seen of the lion but his monstrous croup of a reddish
yellow. His thighs were gathered under him, and his thick mane served
entirely to conceal his head. But by the tension and movement of the
muscles of his loins, and the curving of his backbone, it was easy to
perceive that he was making violent efforts with his throat and his
forepaws. The Prophet approached the cage with same uneasiness, fearing
that, notwithstanding his orders, Goliath had given the lion some bones
to gnaw. To assure himself of it, he said in a quick and firm voice:
"Cain!"

The lion did not change his position.

"Cain! come here!" repeated Morok in a louder tone. The appeal was
useless; the lion did not move, and the noise continued.

"Cain! come here!" said the Prophet a third time; but, as he pronounced
these words, he applied the end of the glowing bar to the haunch of the
lion.

Scarcely did the light track of smoke appear on the reddish hide of Cain,
when, with a spring of incredible agility, he turned and threw himself
against the grating, not crouching, but at a single bound--upright,
superb, terrifying. The Prophet being at the angle of the cage, Cain, in
his fury, had raised himself sideways to face his master, and, leaning
his huge flank against the bars, thrust between them his enormous fore
leg, which, with his swollen muscles, was as large as Goliath's thigh.

"Cain! down!" said the Prophet, approaching briskly.

The lion did not obey immediately. His lips, curling with rage, displayed
fangs as long, as large, and as pointed as the tusks of a wild boar. But
Morok touched those lips with the end of the burning metal; and, as he
felt the smart, followed by an unexpected summons of his master, the
lion, not daring to roar, uttered a hollow growl, and his great body sank
down at once in an attitude of submission and fear.

The Prophet took down the lantern to see what Cain had been gnawing. It
was one of the planks from the floor of his den, which he had succeeded
in tearing up, and was crunching between his teeth in the extremity of
his hunger. For a few moments the most profound silence reigned in the
menagerie. The Prophet, with his hands behind his back, went from one
cage to the other, observing the animals with a restless contemplative
look, as if he hesitated to make between them an important and difficult
choice.

From time to time he listened at the great door of the shed, which opened
on the court-yard of the inn. At length this door turned on its hinges,
and Goliath appeared, his clothes dripping with water.

"Well! is it done?" said the Prophet.

"Not without trouble. Luckily, the night is dark, it blows hard, and it
pours with rain."

"Then there is no suspicion?"

"None, master. Your information was good. The door of the cellar opens on
the fields, just under the window of the lasses. When you whistled to let
me know it was time, I crept out with a stool I had provided; I put it up
against the wall, and mounted upon it; with my six feet, that made nine,
and I could lean my elbows on the window-ledge; I took the shutter in one
hand, and the haft of my knife in the other, and, whilst I broke two of
the panes, I pushed the shutter with all my might."

"And they thought it was the wind?"

"Yes, they thought it was the wind. You see, the 'brute' is not such a
brute, after all. That done, I crept back into my cellar, carrying my
stool with me. In a little time, I heard the voice of the old man; it was
well I had made haste."

"Yes, when I whistled to you, he had just entered the supper-room. I
thought he would have been longer."

"That man's not built to remain long at supper," said the giant,
contemptuously. "Some moments after the panes had been broken, the old
man opened the window, and called his dog, saying: 'Jump out!'--I went
and hid myself at the further end of the cellar, or that infernal dog
would have scented me through the door."

"The dog is now shut up in the stable with the old man's horse."

"Go on!"

"When I heard them close shutter and window, I came out of my cellar,
replaced my stool, and again mounted upon it. Unfastening the shutter, I
opened it without noise, but the two broken panes were stopped up with
the skirts of a pelisse. I heard talking, but I could see nothing; so I
moved the pelisse a little, and then I could see the two lasses in bed
opposite to me, and the old man sitting down with his back to where I
stood."

"But the knapsack--the knapsack?--That is the most important."

"The knapsack was near the window, on a table, by the side of a lamp; I
could have reached it by stretching out my arm."

"What did you hear said?"

"As you told me to think only of the knapsack, I can only remember what
concerns the knapsack. The old man said he had some papers in it--the
letter of a general--his money--his cross."

"Good--what next?"

"As it was difficult for me to keep the pelisse away from the hole, it
slipped through my fingers. In trying to get hold of it again, I put my
hand too much forward. One of the lasses saw it, and screamed out,
pointing to the window."

"Dolt!" exclaimed the Prophet, becoming pale with rage, "you have ruined
all."

"Stop a bit! there is nothing broken yet. When I heard the scream, I
jumped down from my stool, and got back into the cellar; as the dog was
no longer about, I left the door ajar, so that I could hear them open the
window, and see, by the light, that the old man was looking out with the
lamp; but he could find no ladder, and the window was too high for any
man of common size to reach it!"

"He will have thought, like the first time, that it was the wind. You are
less awkward than I imagined."

"The wolf has become a fox, as you said. Knowing where the knapsack was
to be found with the money and the papers, and not being able to do more
for the moment, I came away--and here I am."

"Go upstairs and fetch me the longest pike."

"Yes, master."

"And the red blanket."

"Yes, master."

"Go!"

Goliath began to mount the ladder; half-way up he stopped. "Master," said
he, "may I not bring down a bit of meat for Death?--you will see that
she'll bear me malice; she puts it all down to my account; she never
forgets, and on the first occasion--"

"The pike and the cloth!" repeated the Prophet, in an imperious tone. And
whilst Goliath, swearing to himself, proceeded to execute his
instructions, Morok opened the great door of the shed, looked out into
the yard, and listened.

"Here's the pike and the cloth," said the giant, as he descended the
ladder with the articles. "Now what must I do next?"

"Return to the cellar, mount once more by the window, and when the old
man leaves the room--"

"Who will make him leave the room?"

"Never mind! he will leave it."

"What next?"

"You say the lamp is near the window?"

"Quite near--on the table next to the knapsack."

"Well, then, as soon as the old man leaves the room, push open the
window, throw down the lamp, and if you accomplish cleverly what remains
to do--the ten florins are yours--you remember it all?"

"Yes, yes."

"The girls will be so frightened by the noise and darkness, that they
will remain dumb with terror."

"Make yourself easy! The wolf turned into a fox; why not a serpent?"

"There is yet something."

"Well, what now?"

"The roof of this shed is not very high, the window of the loft is easy
of access, the night is dark--instead of returning by the door--"

"I will come in at the window."

"Ay, and without noise."

"Like a regular snake!" and the giant departed.

"Yes!" said the Prophet to himself, after a long silence, "these means
are sure. It was not for me to hesitate. A blind and obscure instrument,
I know not the motives of the orders I have received: but from the
recommendations which accompany them--but from the position of him who
sends them--immense interests must be involved--interests connected with
all that is highest and greatest upon earth!--And yet how can these two
girls, almost beggars, how can this wretched soldier represent such
interests?--No matter," added he, with humility; "I am the arm which
acts--it is for the head, which thinks and orders, to answer for its
work."

Soon after the Prophet left the shed, carrying with him the red cloth,
and directed his steps towards the little stable that contained Jovial.
The crazy door, imperfectly secured by a latch, was easily opened. At
sight of a stranger Spoil-sport threw himself upon him; but his teeth
encountered the iron leggings of the Prophet, who, in spite of the
efforts of the dog took Jovial by his halter, threw the blanket over his
head to prevent his either seeing or smelling, and led him from the
stable into the interior of the menagerie, of which he closed the door.




CHAPTER X.

THE SURPRISE.

The orphans, after reading the journal of their father, remained for some
moments silent, sad, and pensive, contemplating the leaves yellowed by
time. Dagobert, also plunged in a reverie, thought of his wife and son,
from whom he had been so long separated, and hoped soon to see again.

The soldier was the first to break the silence, which had lasted for
several minutes. Taking the leaves from the hand of Blanche, he folded
them carefully, put them into his pocket, and thus addressed the orphans:

"Courage, my children! you see what a brave father you have. Think only
of the pleasure of greeting him, and remember always the name of the
gallant youth, to whom you will owe that pleasure--for without him your
father would have been killed in India."

"Djalma! we shall never forget him," said Rose.

"And if our guardian angel Gabriel should return," added Blanche, "we
will ask him to watch over Djalma as over ourselves."

"Very well, my children; I am sure that you will forget nothing that
concerns good feeling. But to return to the traveller, who came to visit
your poor mother in Siberia, he had seen the general a month after the
events of which you have read, and at a moment when he was about to enter
on a new campaign against the English. It was then that your father
entrusted him with the papers and medal."

"But of what use will this medal be to us, Dagobert?"

"And what is the meaning of these words engraved upon it?" added Rose, as
she drew it from her bosom.

"Why it means, my children, that on the 13th of February, 1832, we must
be at No. 3, Rue Saint Francois, Paris."

"But what are we to do there?"

"Your poor mother was seized so quickly with her last illness, that she
was unable to tell me. All I know is, that this medal came to her from
her parents, and that it had been a relic preserved in her family for
more than a century."

"And how did our father get it?"

"Among the articles which had been hastily thrown into the coach, when he
was removed by force from Warsaw, was a dressing-case of your mother's,
in which was contained this medal. Since that time the general had been
unable to send it back, having no means of communicating with us, and not
even knowing where we were."

"This medal is, then, of great importance to us?"

"Unquestionably; for never, during fifteen years, had I seen your mother
so happy, as on the day the traveller brought it back to her. 'Now,' said
she to me, in the presence of the stranger, and with tears of joy in her
eyes, 'now may my children's future be brilliant as their life has
hitherto been miserable. I will entreat of the governor of Siberia
permission to go to France with my daughters; it will perhaps be thought
I have been sufficiently punished, by fifteen years of exile, and the
confiscation of my property. Should they refuse, I will remain here; but
they will at least allow me to send my children to France, and you must
accompany them, Dagobert. You shall set out immediately, for much time
has been already lost; and, if you were not to arrive before the 13th of
next February, this cruel separation and toilsome journey would have been
all in vain.'"

"Suppose we were one day after?"

"Your mother told me that if we arrived the 14th instead of the 13th, it
would be too late. She also gave me a thick letter, to put into the post
for France, in the first town we should pass through--which I have done."

"And do you think we shall be at Paris in time?"

"I hope so; still, if you are strong enough, we must sometimes make
forced marches--for, if we only travel our five leagues a day, and that
without accident, we shall scarcely reach Paris until the beginning of
February, and it is better to be a little beforehand."

"But as father is in--India, and condemned to death if he return to
France, when shall we see him?"