Le Juif errant. English

by Eugène Sue

  CHAPTER LI. THE CONVENT.

  Let us explain in a few words the presence of Dagobert. His countenancewas impressed with such an air of military frankness that the managerof the coach-office would have been satisfied with his promise to returnand pay the money; but the soldier had obstinately insisted on remainingin pledge, as he called it, till his wife had answered his letter.When, however, on the return of the porter, he found that the money wascoming, his scruples were satisfied, and he hastened to run home.

  We may imagine the stupor of Mrs. Grivois, when, upon entering thechamber, she perceived Dagobert (whom she easily recognized by thedescription she had heard of him) seated beside his wife and theorphans. The anxiety of Frances at sight of Mrs. Grivois was equallystriking. Rose and Blanche had told her of the visit of a lady, duringher absence, upon important business; and, judging by the informationreceived from her confessor, Frances had no doubt that this was theperson charged to conduct the orphans to a religious establishment.

  Her anxiety was terrible. Resolved to follow the counsels of AbbeDubois, she dreaded lest a word from Mrs. Grivois should put Dagobert onthe scent--in which case all would be lost, and the orphans wouldremain in their present state of ignorance and mortal sin, for which shebelieved herself responsible.

  Dagobert, who held the hands of Rose and Blanche, left his seat as thePrincess de Saint-Dizier's waiting-woman entered the room and cast aninquiring glance on Frances.

  The moment was critical--nay, decisive; but Mrs. Grivois had profited bythe example of the Princess de Saint-Dizier. So, taking her resolutionat once, and turning to account the precipitation with which she hadmounted the stairs, after the odious charge she had brought against poorMother Bunch, and even the emotion caused by the unexpected sight ofDagobert, which gave to her features an expression of uneasiness andalarm--she exclaimed, in an agitated voice, after the moment's silencenecessary to collect her thoughts: "Oh, madame! I have just been thespectator of a great misfortune. Excuse my agitation! but I am soexcited--"

  "Dear me! what is the matter?" said Frances, in a trembling voice, forshe dreaded every moment some indiscretion on the part of Mrs. Grivois.

  "I called just now," resumed the other, "to speak to you on someimportant business; whilst I was waiting for you, a poor young woman,rather deformed, put up sundry articles in a parcel--"

  "Yes," said Frances; "it was Mother Bunch, an excellent, worthycreature."

  "I thought as much, madame; well, you shall hear what has happened. Asyou did not come in, I resolved to pay a visit in the neighborhood. I goout, and get as far as the Rue St. Mery, when--Oh, madame!"

  "Well?" said Dagobert, "what then?"

  "I see a crowd--I inquire what is the matter--I learn that a policemanhas just arrested a young girl as a thief, because she had been seencarrying a bundle, composed of different articles which did not appearto belong to her--I approached--what do I behold?--the same young womanthat I had met just before in this room."

  "Oh! the poor child!" exclaimed Frances, growing pale, and clasping herhands together. "What a dreadful thing!"

  "Explain, then," said Dagobert to his wife. "What was in this bundle?"

  "Well, my dear--to confess the truth--I was a little short, and I askedour poor friend to take some things for me to the pawnbroker's--"

  "What! and they thought she had robbed us!" cried Dagobert; "she,the most honest girl in the world! it is dreadful--you ought to haveinterfered, madame; you ought to have said that you knew her."

  "I tried to do so, sir; but, unfortunately, they would not hear me. Thecrowd increased every moment, till the guard came up, and carried heroff."

  "She might die of it, she is so sensitive and timid!" exclaimed Frances.

  "Ah, good Mother Bunch! so gentle! so considerate!" said Blanche,turning with tearful eyes towards her sister.

  "Not being able to help her," resumed Mrs. Grivois "I hastened hitherto inform you of this misadventure--which may, indeed, easily berepaired--as it will only be necessary to go and claim the young girl assoon as possible."

  At these words, Dagobert hastily seized his hat, and said abruptly toMrs. Grivois: "Zounds, madame! you should have begun by telling us that.Where is the poor child? Do you know?"

  "I do not, sir; but there are still so many excited people in the streetthat, if you will have the kindness to step out, you will be sure tolearn."

  "Why the devil do you talk of kindness? It is my duty, madame. Poorchild!" repeated Dagobert. "Taken up as a thief!--it is really horrible.I will go to the guard-house, and to the commissary of police for thisneighborhood, and, by hook or crook, I will find her, and have her out,and bring her home with me."

  So saying, Dagobert hastily departed. Frances, now that she felt moretranquil as to the fate of Mother Bunch, thanked the Lord that thiscircumstance had obliged her husband to go out, for his presence at thisjuncture caused her a terrible embarrassment.

  Mrs. Grivois had left My Lord in the coach below, for the moments wereprecious. Casting a significant glance at Frances she handed her AbbeDubois' letter, and said to her, with strong emphasis on every word:"You will see by this letter, madame, what was the object of my visit,which I have not before been able to explain to you, but on which Itruly congratulate myself, as it brings me into connection with thesetwo charming young ladies." Rose and Blanche looked at each other insurprise. Frances took the letter with a trembling hand. It required allthe pressing and threatening injunctions of her confessor to conquerthe last scruples of the poor woman, for she shuddered at the thought ofDagobert's terrible indignation. Moreover, in her simplicity, she knewnot how to announce to the young girls that they were to accompany thislady.

  Mrs. Grivois guessed her embarrassment, made a sign to her to be at herease, and said to Rose, whilst Frances was reading the letter of herconfessor: "How happy your relation will be to see you, my dear younglady!'

  "Our relation, madame?" said Rose, more and more astonished.

  "Certainly. She knew of your arrival here, but, as she is stillsuffering from the effects of a long illness, she was not able to comeherself to-day, and has sent me to fetch you to her. Unfortunately,"added Mrs. Grivois, perceiving a movement of uneasiness on the part ofthe two sisters, "it will not be in her power, as she tells Mrs. Baudoinin her letter, to see you for more than a very short time--so you maybe back here in about an hour. But to-morrow or the next day after,she will be well enough to leave home, and then she will come and makearrangements with Mrs. Baudoin and her husband, to take you into herhouse--for she could not bear to leave you at the charge of the worthypeople who have been so kind to you."

  These last words of Mrs. Grivois made a favorable impression upon thetwo sisters, and banished their fears of becoming a heavy burden toDagobert's family. If it had been proposed to them to quit altogetherthe house in the Rue Bris-Miche, without first asking the consent oftheir old friend, they would certainly have hesitated; but Mrs. Grivoishad only spoken of an hour's visit. They felt no suspicion, therefore,and Rose said to Frances: "We may go and see our relation, I suppose,madame, without waiting for Dagobert's return?"

  "Certainly," said Frances, in a feeble voice, "since you are to be backalmost directly."

  "Then, madame, I would beg these dear young ladies to come with me assoon as possible, as I should like to bring them back before noon.

  "We are ready, madame," said Rose.

  "Well then, young ladies, embrace your second mother, and come," saidMrs. Grivois, who was hardly able to control her uneasiness, for shetrembled lest Dagobert should return from one moment to the other.

  Rose and Blanche embraced Frances, who, clasping in her arms the twocharming and innocent creatures that she was about to deliver up, couldwith difficulty restrain her tears, though she was fully convinced thatshe was acting for their salvation.

  "Come, young ladies," said Mrs. Grivois, in the most affable tone, "letus make haste--you will excuse my impatience, I am sure--but it is inthe name of your relation that I s
peak."

  Having once more tenderly kissed the wife of Dagobert, the sistersquitted the room hand in hand, and descended the staircase closebehind Mrs. Grivois, followed (without their being aware of it), bySpoil-sport. The intelligent animal cautiously watched their movements,for, in the absence of his master, he never let them out of his sight.

  For greater security, no doubt, the waiting-woman of Madame de SaintDizier had ordered the hackney-coach to wait for her at a littledistance from the Rue Brise-Miche, in the cloister square. In a fewseconds, the orphans and their conductress reached the carriage.

  "Oh, missus!" said the coachman, opening the door; "no offence, Ihope--but you have the most ill-tempered rascal of a dog! Since you puthim into my coach, he has never ceased howling like a roasted cat,and looks as if he would eat us all up alive!" In fact, My Lord, whodetested solitude, was yelling in the most deplorable manner.

  "Be quiet, My Lord! here I am," said Mrs. Grivois; then addressing thetwo sisters, she added: "Pray, get in, my dear young ladies."

  Rose and Blanche got into the coach. Before she followed them, Mrs.Grivois was giving to the coachman in a low voice the direction to St.Mary's Convent, and was adding other instructions, when suddenly the pugdog, who had growled savagely when the sisters took their seats inthe coach, began to bark with fury. The cause of this anger was clearenough; Spoil-sport, until now unperceived, had with one bound enteredthe carriage.

  The pug, exasperated by this boldness, forgetting his ordinary prudence,and excited to the utmost by rage and ugliness of temper, sprang at hismuzzle, and bit him so cruelly, that, in his turn, the brave Siberiandog, maddened by the pain, threw himself upon the teaser, seized himby the throat, and fairly strangled him with two grips of his powerfuljaws--as appeared by one stifled groan of the pug, previously halfsuffocated with fat.

  All this took place in less time than is occupied by the description.Rose and Blanche had hardly opportunity to exclaim twice: "Here, Spoilsport! down!"

  "Oh, good gracious!" said Mrs. Grivois, turning round at the noise."There again is that monster of a dog--he will certainly hurt my love.Send him away, young ladies--make him get down--it is impossible to takehim with us."

  Ignorant of the degree of Spoil-sport's criminality, for his paltry foewas stretched lifeless under a seat, the young girls yet felt that itwould be improper to take the dog with them, and they therefore said tohim in an angry tone, at the same time slightly touching him with theirfeet: "Get down, Spoil-sport! go away!"

  The faithful animal hesitated at first to obey this order. Sad andsupplicatingly looked he at the orphans, and with an air of mildreproach, as if blaming them for sending away their only defender. But,upon the stern repetition of the command, he got down from the coach,with his tail between his legs, feeling perhaps that he had beensomewhat over-hasty with regard to the pug.

  Mrs. Grivois, who was in a great hurry to leave that quarter of thetown, seated herself with precipitation in the carriage; the coachmanclosed the door, and mounted his box; and then the coach started at arapid rate, whilst Mrs. Grivois prudently let down the blinds, for fearof meeting Dagobert by the way.

  Having taken these indispensable precautions, she was able to turn herattention to her pet, whom she loved with all that deep, exaggeratedaffection, which people of a bad disposition sometimes entertain foranimals, as if then concentrated and lavished upon them all thosefeelings in which they are deficient with regard to their fellowcreatures. In a word. Mrs. Grivois was passionately attached to thispeevish, cowardly, spiteful dog, partly perhaps from a secret sympathywith his vices. This attachment had lasted for six years, and onlyseemed to increase as My Lord advanced in age.

  We have laid some stress on this apparently puerile detail, because themost trifling causes have often disastrous effects, and because we wishthe reader to understand what must have been the despair, fury, andexasperation of this woman, when she discovered the death of her dog--adespair, a fury, and an exasperation, of which the orphans might yetfeel the cruel consequences.

  The hackney-coach had proceeded rapidly for some seconds, when Mrs.Grivois, who was seated with her back to the horses, called My Lord. Thedog had very good reasons for not replying.

  "Well, you sulky beauty!" said Mrs. Grivois, soothingly; "you have takenoffence, have you? It was not my fault if that great ugly dog came intothe coach, was it, young ladies? Come and kiss your mistress, and let usmake peace, old obstinate!"

  The same obstinate silence continued on the part of the canine noble.Rose and Blanche began to look anxiously at each other, for they knewthat Spoil-sport was somewhat rough in his ways, though they were farfrom suspecting what had really happened. But Mrs. Grivois, rathersurprised than uneasy at her pug-log's insensibility to her affectionateappeals, and believing him to be sullenly crouching beneath the seat,stooped clown to take him up, and feeling one of his paws, drew itimpatiently towards her whilst she said to him in a half-jesting, halfangry tone: "Come, naughty fellow! you will give a pretty notion of yourtemper to these young ladies."

  So saying, she took up the dog, much astonished at his unresistingtorpor; but what was her fright, when, having placed him upon her lap,she saw that he was quite motionless.

  "An apoplexy!" cried she. "The dear creature ate too much--I was alwaysafraid of it."

  Turning round hastily, she exclaimed: "Stop, coachman! stop!" withoutreflecting that the coachman could not hear her. Then raising the cur'shead, still thinking that he was only in a fit, she perceived withhorror the bloody holes imprinted by five or six sharp fangs, which leftno doubt of the cause of his deplorable end.

  Her first impulse was one of grief and despair. "Dead!" she exclaimed;"dead! and already cold! Oh, goodness!" And this woman burst into tears.

  The tears of the wicked are ominous. For a bad man to weep, he musthave suffered much; and, with him, the reaction of suffering, instead ofsoftening the soul, inflames it to a dangerous anger.

  Thus, after yielding to that first painful emotion, the mistress of MyLord felt herself transported with rage and hate--yes, hate--violenthate for the young girls, who had been the involuntary cause of thedog's death. Her countenance so plainly betrayed her resentment, thatBlanche and Rose were frightened at the expression of her face, whichhad now grown purple with fury, as with agitated voice and wrathfulglance she exclaimed: "It was your dog that killed him!"

  "Oh, madame!" said Rose; "we had nothing to do with it."

  "It was your dog that bit Spoil-sport first," added Blanche, in aplaintive voice.

  The look of terror impressed on the features of the orphans recalledMrs. Grivois to herself. She saw the fatal consequences that might arisefrom yielding imprudently to her anger. For the very sake of vengeance,she had to restrain herself, in order not to awaken suspicion in theminds of Marshal Simon's daughters. But not to appear to recover toosoon from her first impression, she continued for some minutes to castirritated glances at the young girls; then, little by little, her angerseemed to give way to violent grief; she covered her face with herhands, heaved a long sigh, and appeared to weep bitterly.

  "Poor lady!" whispered Rose to Blanche. "How she weeps!--No doubt, sheloved her dog as much as we love Spoil-sport."

  "Alas! yes," replied Blanche. "We also wept when our old Jovial waskilled."

  After a few minutes, Mrs. Grivois raised her head, dried her eyesdefinitively, and said in a gentle, and almost affectionate voice:"Forgive me, young ladies! I was unable to repress the first movementof irritation, or rather of deep sorrow--for I was tenderly attached tothis poor dog he has never left me for six years."

  "We are very sorry for this misfortune, madame," resumed Rose; "and weregret it the more, that it seems to be irreparable."

  "I was just saying to my sister, that we can the better fancy yourgrief, as we have had to mourn the death of our old horse, that carriedus all the way from Siberia."

  "Well, my dear young ladies, let us think no more about it. It wasmy fault; I should not have brought h
im with me; but he was always somiserable, whenever I left him. You will make allowance for my weakness.A good heart feels for animals as well as people; so I must trust toyour sensibility to excuse my hastiness."

  "Do not think of it, madame; it is only your grief that afflicts us."

  "I shall get over it, my dear young ladies--I shall get over it. The joyof the meeting between you and your relation will help to consoleme. She will be so happy. You are so charming! and then the singularcircumstance of your exact likeness to each other adds to the interestyou inspire."

  "You are too kind to us, madame."

  "Oh, no--I am sure you resemble each other as much in disposition as inface."

  "That is quite natural, madame," said Rose, "for since our birth we havenever left each other a minute, whether by night or day. It would bestrange, if we were not like in character."

  "Really, my dear young ladies! you have never left each other a minute?"

  "Never, madame." The sisters joined hands with an expressive smile.

  "Then, how unhappy you would be, and how much to be pitied, if ever youwere separated."

  "Oh, madame! it is impossible," said Blanche, smiling.

  "How impossible?"

  "Who would have the heart to separate us?"

  "No doubt, my dear young ladies, it would be very cruel."

  "Oh, madame," resumed Blanche, "even very wicked people would not thinkof separating us."

  "So much the better, my dear young ladies--pray, why?"

  "Because it would cause us too much grief."

  "Because it would kill us."

  "Poor little dears!"

  "Three months ago, we were shut up in prison. Well when the governor ofthe prison saw us, though he looked a very stern man, he could not helpsaying: 'It would be killing these children to separate them;' and so weremained together, and were as happy as one can be in prison."

  "It shows your excellent heart, and also that of the persons who knewhow to appreciate it."

  The carriage stopped, and they heard the coachman call out "Any one atthe gate there?"

  "Oh! here we are at your relation's," said Mrs. Grivois. Two wings of agate flew open, and the carriage rolled over the gravel of a court-yard.

  Mrs. Grivois having drawn up one of the blinds, they found themselves ina vast court, across the centre of which ran a high wall, with a kindof porch upon columns, under which was a little door. Behind this wall,they could see the upper part of a very large building in freestone.Compared with the house in the Rue Brise-Miche, this building appeareda palace; so Blanche said to Mrs. Grivois, with an expression of artlessadmiration: "Dear me, madame, what a fine residence!"

  "That is nothing," replied Madame Grivois; "wait till you see theinterior, which is much finer."

  When the coachman opened the door of the carriage, what was the rage ofMrs. Grivois, and the surprise of the girls, to see Spoil-sport, whohad been clever enough to follow the coach. Pricking up his ears, andwagging his tail, he seemed to have forgotten his late offences, and toexpect to be praised for his intelligent fidelity.

  "What!" cried Mrs. Grivois, whose sorrows were renewed at the sight;"has that abominable dog followed the coach?"

  "A famous dog, mum," answered the coachman "he never once left the heelsof my horses. He must have been trained to it. He's a powerful beast,and two men couldn't scare him. Look at the throat of him now!"

  The mistress of the deceased pug, enraged at the somewhat unseasonablepraises bestowed upon the Siberian, said to the orphans, "I willannounce your arrival, wait for me an instant in the coach."

  So saying, she went with a rapid step towards the porch, and rang thebell. A woman, clad in a monastic garb, appeared at the door, and bowedrespectfully to Mrs. Grivois, who addressed her in these few words, "Ihave brought you the two young girls; the orders of Abbe d'Aigrigny andthe princess are, that they be instantly separated, and kept apart insolitary cells--you understand, sister--and subjected to the rule forimpenitents."

  "I will go and inform the superior, and it will be done," said theportress, with another bend.

  "Now, will you come, my dear young ladies?" resumed Mrs. Grivois,addressing the two girls, who had secretly bestowed a few caresses uponSpoil sport, so deeply were they touched by his instinctive attachment;"you will be introduced to your relation, and I will return and fetchyou in half an hour. Coachman keep that dog back."

  Rose and Blanche, in getting out of the coach, were so much occupiedwith Spoil-sport, that they did not perceive the portress, who was halfhidden behind the little door. Neither did they remark, that the personwho was to introduce them was dressed as a nun, till, taking them bythe hand, she had led them across the threshold, when the door wasimmediately closed behind them.

  As soon as Mrs. Grivois had seen the orphans safe into the convent, shetold the coachman to leave the court-yard, and wait for her at theouter gate. The coachman obeyed; but Spoil-sport, who had seen Rose andBlanche enter by the little door, ran to it, and remained there.

  Mrs. Grivois then called the porter of the main entrance, a tall,vigorous fellow and said to him: "Here are ten francs for you, Nicholas,if you will beat out the brains of that great dog, who is crouchingunder the porch."

  Nicholas shook his head, as he observed Spoil-sport's size and strength."Devil take me, madame!" said he; "'tis not so easy to tackle a dog ofthat build."

  "I will give you twenty francs; only kill him before me."

  "One ought to have a gun, and I have only an iron hammer."

  "That will do; you can knock him down at a blow."

  "Well, madame--I will try--but I have my doubts." And Nicholas went tofetch his mallet.

  "Oh! if I had the strength!" said Mrs. Grivois.

  The porter returned with his weapon, and advanced slowly andtreacherously towards Spoil-sport, who was still crouching beneath theporch. "Here, old fellow! here, my good dog!" said Nicholas strikinghis left hand on his thigh, and keeping his right behind him, with thecrowbar grasped in it.

  Spoil-sport rose, examined Nicholas attentively, and no doubt perceivingby his manner that the porter meditated some evil design, bounded awayfrom him, outflanked the enemy, saw clearly what was intended, and kepthimself at a respectful distance.

  "He smells a rat," said Nicholas; "the rascal's on his guard. He willnot let me come near him. It's no go."

  "You are an awkward fellow," said Mrs. Grivois in a passion, as shethrew a five-franc piece to Nicholas: "at all events, drive him away."

  "That will be easier than to kill him, madame," said the porter. Indeed,finding himself pursued, and conscious probably that it would be uselessto attempt an open resistance, Spoil-sport fled from the court-yard intothe street; but once there, he felt himself, as it were, upon neutralground, and notwithstanding all the threats of Nicholas, refused towithdraw an inch further than just sufficient to keep out of reach ofthe sledge-hammer. So that when Mrs. Grivois, pale with rage, againstepped into her hackney-coach, in which were My Lord's lifelessremains, she saw with the utmost vexation that Spoil-sport was lying ata few steps from the gate, which Nicholas had just closed, having givenup the chase in despair.

  The Siberian dog, sure of finding his way back to the Rue Brise-Miche,had determined, with the sagacity peculiar to his race, to wait for theorphans on the spot where he then was.

  Thus were the two sisters confined in St. Mary's Convent, which, as wehave already said, was next door to the lunatic asylum in which Adriennede Cardoville was immured.

  We now conduct the reader to the dwelling of Dagobert's wife, who waswaiting with dreadful anxiety for the return of her husband, knowingthat he would call her to account for the disappearance of MarshalSimon's daughters.