The Wandering Jew, Book VIII.. by Eugene Sue (best big ereader txt) 📖
- Author: Eugene Sue
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clever man--"
"Oh, madame!" said Rodin, humbly.
"Full of resources and invention--"
"Oh, madame!"
"It is not my fault if, in our long interview at Dr. Baleinier's, you
betrayed that superiority of mind which struck me so forcibly, and which
seems to embarrass you so much at present. What would you have,
sir?--great minds like yours find it difficult to maintain their
incognito. Yet, as by different ways--oh! very different," added the
young lady, maliciously, "we are tending to the same end (still keeping
in view our conversation at Dr. Baleinier's), I wish, for the sake of our
future communion, as you call it, to give you a piece of advice, and
speak frankly to you."
Rodin had listened to Mdlle. de Cardoville with apparent impassibility,
holding his hat under his arm, and twirling his thumbs, whilst his hands
were crossed upon his waistcoat. The only external mark of the intense
agitation into which he was thrown by the calm words of Adrienne, was
that the livid eyelids of the Jesuit, which had been hypocritically
closed, became gradually red, as the blood flowed into them.
Nevertheless, he answered Mdlle. de Cardoville in a firm voice, and with
a low bow: "Good advice and frankness are always excellent things."
"You see, sir," resumed Adrienne, with some excitement, "happy love
bestows such penetration, such energy, such courage, as enables one to
laugh at perils, to detect stratagems, and to defy hatred. Believe me,
the divine light which surrounds two loving hearts will be sufficient to
disperse all darkness, and reveal every snare. You see, in India--excuse
my weakness, but I like to talk of India," added the young girl, with a
smile of indescribable grace and meaning--"in India, when travellers
sleep at night, they kindle great fires round their ajoupa (excuse this
touch of local coloring), and far as extends the luminous circle, it puts
to flight by its mere brilliancy, all the impure and venomous reptiles
that shun the day and live only in darkness."
"The meaning of this comparison has quite escaped me," said Rodin,
continuing to twirl his thumbs, and half raising his eyelids, which were
getting redder and redder.
"I will speak more plainly," said Adrienne, with a smile. "Suppose, sir,
that the last is a service which you have rendered me and the prince--for
you only proceed by way of services--that, I acknowledge, is novel and
ingenious."
"Bravo, my dear child!" said the count, joyfully. "The execution will be
complete."
"Oh! this is meant for an execution?" said Rodin, still impassible.
"No, sir," answered Adrienne, with a smile; "it is a simple conversation
between a poor young girl and an old philosopher, the friend of humanity.
Suppose, then, that these frequent services that you have rendered to me
and mine have suddenly opened my eyes; or, rather," added the young girl,
in a serious tone, "suppose that heaven, who gives to the mother the
instinct to defend her child, has given me, along with happiness, the
instinct to preserve my happiness, and that a vague presentiment, by
throwing light on a thousand circumstances until now obscure, has
suddenly revealed to me that, instead of being the friend, you are
perhaps, the most dangerous enemy of myself and family."
"So we pass from the execution to suppositions," said Rodin, still
immovable.
"And from suppositions, sir, if you must have it, to certainty," resumed
Adrienne, with dignified firmness; "yes, now I believe that I was for
awhile your dupe, and I tell you, without hate, without anger, but with
regret--that it is painful to see a man of your sense and intelligence
stoop to such machinations, and, after having recourse to so many
diabolical manoeuvres, finish at last by being ridiculous; for, believe
me, there is nothing more ridiculous for a man like you, than to be
vanquished by a young girl, who has no weapon, no defence, no instructor,
but her love. In a word, sir, I look upon you from to-day as an
implacable and dangerous enemy; for I half perceive your aim, without
guessing by what means you will seek to accomplish it, No doubt your
future means will be worthy of the past. Well! in spite of all this, I do
not fear you. From tomorrow, my family will be informed of everything,
and an active, intelligent, resolute union will keep us all upon our
guard, for it doubtless concerns this enormous inheritance, of which they
wish to deprive us. Now, what connection can there be between the wrongs
I reproach you with and the pecuniary end proposed? I do not at all
know--but you have told me yourself that our enemies are so dangerously
skillful, and their craft so far-reaching, that we must expect all, be
prepared for all. I will remember the lesson. I have promised you
frankness, sir, and now I suppose you have it."
"It would be an imprudent frankness if I were your enemy," said Rodin,
still impassible; "but you also promised me some advice, my dear young
lady."
"My advice will be short; do not attempt to continue the struggle,
because, you see, there is something stronger than you and yours--it is a
woman's resolve, defending her happiness."
Adrienne pronounced these last words with so sovereign a confidence; her
beautiful countenance shone, as is it were, with such intrepid joy, that
Rodin, notwithstanding his phlegmatic audacity, was for a moment
frightened. Yet he did not appear in the least disconcerted; and, after a
moment's silence, he resumed, with an air of almost contemptuous
compassion: "My dear young lady, we may perhaps never meet again; it is
probable. Only remember one thing, which I now repeat to you: I never
justify myself. The future will provide for that. Notwithstanding which,
my dear young lady, I am your humble servant;" and he made her a low bow.
"Count, I beg to salute you most respectfully," he added, bowing still
more humbly to M. de Montbron; and he went out.
Hardly had Rodin left the room than Adrienne ran to her desk, and writing
a few hasty lines, sealed the note, and said to M. de Montbron: "I shall
not see the prince before to-morrow--as much from superstition of the
heart as because it is necessary for my plans that this interview should
be attended with some little solemnity. You shall know all; but I write
to him on the instant, for, with an enemy like M. Rodin, one must be
prepared for all."
"You are right, my dear child; quick! the letter." Adrienne gave it to
him.
"I tell him enough," said she, "to calm his grief; and not enough to
deprive me of the delicious happiness of the surprise I reserve for to
morrow."
"All this has as much sense as heart in it: I will hasten to the prince's
abode, to deliver your letter. I shall not see him, for I could not
answer for myself. But come! our proposed drive, our evening's amusement,
are still to hold good."
"Certainly. I have more need than ever to divert my thoughts till to
morrow. I feel, too, that the fresh air will do me good, for this
interview with M. Rodin has warmed me a little."
"The old wretch! but we will talk further of him. I will hasten to the
prince's and return with Madame de Morinval, to fetch you to the Champs
Elysees."
The Count de Montbron withdrew precipitately, as joyful at his departure
as he had been sad on his arrival.
CHAPTER XI. (THE CHAMPS-ELYSEES)
It was about two hours after the interview of Rodin with Mdlle. de
Cardoville. Numerous loungers, attracted to the Champs-Elysees by the
serenity of a fine spring day (it was towards the end of the month of
March) stopped to admire a very handsome equipage. A bright-blue open
carriage, with white-and-blue wheels, drawn by four superb horses, of
cream color, with black manes, and harness glittering with silver
ornaments, mounted by two boy postilions of equal size, with black velvet
caps, light-blue cassimere jackets with white collars, buckskin breeches,
and top-boots; two tall, powdered footmen, also in light-blue livery,
with white collars and facings, being seated in the rumble behind.
No equipage could have been turned out in better style. The horses, full
of blood, spirit, and vigor, were skillfully managed by the postilions,
and stepped with singular regularity, gracefully keeping time in their
movements, champing their bits covered with foam, and ever and anon
shaking their cockades of blue and white silk, with long floating ends,
and a bright rose blooming in the midst.
A man on horseback, dressed with elegant simplicity, keeping at the other
side of the avenue, contemplated with proud satisfaction this equipage
which he had, as it were, created. It was M. de Bonneville--Adrienne's
equerry, as M. de Montbron called him--for the carriage belonged to that
young lady. A change had taken place in the plan for this magic day's
amusement. M. de Montbron had not been able to deliver Mdlle. de
Cardoville's note to Prince Djalma. Faringhea had told him that the
prince had gone that morning into the country with Marshal Simon, and
would not be back before evening. The letter should be given him on his
arrival. Completely satisfied as to Djalma, knowing that he could find
these few lines, which, without informing him of the happiness that
awaited him, would at least give him some idea of it, Adrienne had
followed the advice of M. de Montbron, and gone to the drive in her own
carriage, to show all the world that she had quite made up her mind, in
spite of the perfidious reports circulated by the Princess de Saint
Dizier, to keep to her resolution of living by herself in her own way.
Adrienne wore a small white bonnet, with a fall of blonde, which well
became her rosy face and golden hair; her high dress of garnet-colored
velvet was almost hidden beneath a large green cashmere shawl. The young
Marchioness de Morinval, who was also very pretty and elegant, was seated
at her right. M. de Montbron occupied the front seat of the carriage.
Those who know the Parisian world, or rather, that imperceptible fraction
of the world of Paris which goes every fine, sunny day to the Champs
Elysees, to see and be seen, will understand that the presence of Mdlle.
de Cardoville on that brilliant promenade was an extraordinary and
interesting event.
The world (as it is called) could hardly believe its eyes, on seeing this
lady of eighteen, possessed of princely wealth, and belonging to the
highest nobility, thus prove to every one, by this appearance in public,
that she was living completely free and independent, contrary to all
custom and received notions of propriety. This kind of emancipation
appeared something monstrous, and people were almost astonished that the
graceful and dignified bearing of the young lady should belie so
completely the calumnies circulated by Madame de Saint-Dizier and her
friends, with regard to the pretended madness of her niece. Many beaux,
profiting by their acquaintance with the Marchioness de Morinval or M. de
Montbron, came by turns to pay their respects, and rode for a few minutes
by the side of the carriage, so as to have an opportunity of seeing,
admiring, and perhaps hearing, Mdlle. de Cardoville; she surpassed their
expectations, by talking with her usual grace and spirit. Then surprise
and enthusiasm knew no bounds. What had at first been blamed as an almost
insane caprice, was now voted a charming originality, and it only
depended on Mdlle. de Cardoville herself, to be declared from that day
the queen of elegance and fashion. The young lady understood very well
the impression she had made; she felt proud and happy, for she thought of
Djalma; when she compared him to all these men of fashion, her happiness
was the more increased. And, verily, these young men, most of whom had
never quitted Paris, or had ventured at most as far as Naples or Baden,
looked insignificant enough by the side of Djalma, who, at his age, had
so many times commanded and combated in bloody wars, and whose reputation
far courage and generosity, mentioned by travellers with admiration, had
already reached from
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