Le Juif errant. English

by Eugène Sue

  CHAPTER XVI. THE TWO BROTHERS OF THE GOOD WORK.

  Faringhea, as we have before stated, though born in India, had travelleda good deal, and frequented the European factories in different partsof Asia. Speaking well both English and French, and full of intelligenceand sagacity, he was perfectly civilized.

  Instead of answering Rodin's question, he turned upon him a fixed andsearching look. The socius, provoked by this silence, and forseeingvaguely that Faringhea's arrival had some connection--direct orindirect--with Djalma, repeated, though still with the greatestcoolness: "To whom, sir, have I the honor of speaking?"

  "Do you not recognize me," said Faringhea, advancing two steps nearer toRodin's chair.

  "I do not think I have ever had the honor of seeing you," answered theother, coldly.

  "But I recognize you," said Faringhea; "I saw you at Cardoville Castlethe day that a ship and a steamer were wrecked together."

  "At Cardoville Castle? It is very possible, sir. I was there when ashipwreck took place."

  "And that day I called you by your name, and you asked me what Iwanted. I replied: 'Nothing now, brother--hereafter, much.' The time hasarrived. I have come to ask for much."

  "My dear sir," said Rodin, still impassible, "before we continue thisconversation, which appears hitherto tolerably obscure, I must repeat mywish to be informed to whom I have the advantage of speaking. You haveintroduced yourself here under pretext of a commission from MynheerJoshua Van Dael, a respectable merchant of Batavia, and--"

  "You know the writing of M. Van Dael?" said Faringhea, interruptingRodin.

  "I know it perfectly."

  "Look!" The half-caste drew from his pocket (he was shabbily dressed inEuropean clothes) a long dispatch, which he had taken from one Mahal theSmuggler, after strangling him on the beach near Batavia. These papershe placed before Rodin's eyes, but without quitting his hold of them.

  "It is, indeed, M. Van Dael's writing," said Rodin, and he stretchedout his hard towards the letter, which Faringhea quickly and prudentlyreturned to his pocket.

  "Allow me to observe, my dear sir, that you have a singular manner ofexecuting a commission," said Rodin. "This letter, being to my address,and having been entrusted to you by M. Van Dael, you ought--"

  "This letter was not entrusted to me by M. Van Dael," said Faringhea,interrupting Rodin.

  "How, then, is it in your possession?"

  "A Javanese smuggler betrayed me. Van Dael had secured a passage toAlexandria for this man, and had given him this letter to carry with himfor the European mail. I strangled the smuggler, took the letter, madethe passage--and here I am."

  The Thug had pronounced these words with an air of savage boasting; hiswild, intrepid glance did not quail before the piercing look of Rodin,who, at this strange confession, had hastily raised his head to observethe speaker.

  Faringhea thought to astonish or intimidate Rodin by these ferociouswords; but, to his great surprise, the socius, impassible as a corpse,said to him, quite simply: "Oh! they strangle people in Java?"

  "Yes, there and elsewhere," answered Faringhea, with a bitter smile.

  "I would prefer to disbelieve you; but I am surprised at your sincerityM.--, what is your name?"

  "Faringhea."

  "Well, then, M. Faringhea, what do you wish to come to? You haveobtained by an abominable crime, a letter addressed to me, and now youhesitate to deliver it."

  "Because I have read it, and it may be useful to me."

  "Oh! you have read it?" said Rodin, disconcerted for a moment. Then heresumed: "It is true, that judging by your mode of possessing yourselfof other people's correspondence, we cannot expect any great amount ofhonesty on your part. And pray what have you found so useful to you inthis letter?"

  "I have found, brother, that you are, like myself, a son of the GoodWork."

  "Of what good work do you speak" asked Rodin not a little surprised.

  Faringhea replied with an expression of bitter irony. "Joshua says toyou in his letter--'Obedience and courage, secrecy and patience, craftand audacity, union between us, who have the world for our country, thebrethren for our family, Rome for our queen.'"

  "It is possible that M. Van Dael has written thus to me Pray, sir, whatdo you conclude from it?"

  "We, too, have the world for our country, brother, our accomplices forour family, and for our queen Bowanee."

  "I do not know that saint," said Rodin, humbly.

  "It is our Rome," answered the Strangler. "Van Dael speaks to you ofthose of your Order, who, scattered over all the earth, labor forthe glory of Rome, your queen. Those of our band labor also in diverscountries, for the glory of Bowanee."

  "And who are these sons of Bowanee, M. Faringhea?"

  "Men of resolution, audacious, patient, crafty, obstinate, who, to makethe Good Work succeed, would sacrifice country and parents, and sisterand brother, and who regard as enemies all not of their band!"

  "There seems to be much that is good in the persevering and exclusivelyreligious spirit of such an order," said Rodin, with a modest andsanctified air; "only, one must know your ends and objects."

  "The same as your own, brother--we make corpses."(13)

  "Corpses!" cried Rodin.

  "In this letter," resumed Faringhea, "Van Dael tells you that thegreatest glory of your Order is to make 'a corpse of man.' Our work alsois to make corpses of men. Man's death is sweet to Bowanee."

  "But sir," cried Rodin, "M. Van Dael speaks of the soul, of the will, ofthe mind, which are to be brought down by discipline."

  "It is true--you kill the soul, and we the body. Give me your hand,brother, for you also are hunters of men."

  "But once more, sir,--understand, that we only meddle with the will, themind," said Rodin.

  "And what are bodies deprived of soul, will, thought, but mere corpses?Come--come, brother; the dead we make by the cord are not more icy andinanimate than those you make by your discipline. Take my hand, brother;Rome and Bowanee are sisters."

  Notwithstanding his apparent calmness, Rodin could not behold, withoutsome secret alarm, a wretch like Faringhea in possession of a longletter from Van Dael, wherein mention must necessarily have been made ofDjalma. Rodin believed, indeed, that he had rendered it impossible forthe young Indian to be at Paris on the morrow, but not knowing whatconnection might have been formed, since the shipwreck, between theprince and the half-caste, he looked upon Faringhea as a man who mightprobably be very dangerous. But the more uneasy the socius felt inhimself, the more he affected to appear calm and disdainful. He replied,therefore: "This comparison between Rome and Bowanee is no doubt veryamusing; but what, sir, do you deduce from it?"

  "I wish to show you, brother, what I am, and of what I am capable, toconvince you that it is better to have me for a friend than an enemy."

  "In other terms, sir," said Rodin, with contemptuous irony, "you belongto a murderous sect in India, and, you wish, by a transparent allegory,to lead me to reflect on the fate of the man from whom you have stolenthe letter addressed to me. In my turn, I will take the freedom justto observe to you, in all humility, M. Faringhea, that here it is notpermitted to strangle anybody, and that if you were to think fit to makeany corpses for the love of Bowanee, your goddess, we should make you ahead shorter, for the love of another divinity commonly called justice."

  "And what would they do to me, if I tried to poison any one?"

  "I will again humbly observe to you, M. Faringhea, that I have no timeto give you a course of criminal jurisprudence; but, believe me, youhad better resist the temptation to strangle or poison any one. One wordmore: will you deliver up to me the letters of M. Van Dael, or not?"

  "The letters relative to Prince Djalma?" said the half-caste, lookingfixedly at Rodin, who, notwithstanding a sharp and sudden twinge,remained impenetrable, and answered with the utmost simplicity: "Notknowing what the letters which you, sir, are pleased to keep from me,may contain, it is impossible for me to answer your question. I beg, andif necessary, I dema
nd, that you will hand me those letters--or that youwill retire."

  "In a few minutes, brother, you will entreat me to remain."

  "I doubt it."

  "A few words will operate--this miracle. If just now I spoke to youabout poisoning, brother, it was because you sent a doctor to CardovilleCastle, to poison (at least for a time) Prince Djalma."

  In spite of himself, Rodin started almost imperceptibly, as he replied:"I do not understand you."

  "It is true, that I am a poor foreigner, and doubtless speak with anaccent; I will try and explain myself better. I know, by Van Dael'sletters, the interest you have that Prince Djalma should not be here tomorrow, and all that you have done with this view. Do you understand menow?"

  "I have no answer for you."

  Two cautious taps at the door here interrupted the conversation. "Comein," said Rodin.

  "The letter has been taken to its address, sir," said the old servant,bowing, "and here is the answer."

  Rodin took the paper, and, before he opened it, said courteously toFaringhea: "With your permission, sir?"

  "Make no ceremonies," said the half-caste.

  "You are very kind," replied Rodin, as, having read the letter hereceived, he wrote hastily some words at the bottom, saying: "Send thisback to the same address."

  The servant bowed respectfully, and withdrew.

  "Now can I continue"' asked the half-caste, of Rodin.

  "Certainly."

  "I will continue, then," resumed Faringhea:

  "The day before yesterday, just as the prince, all wounded as hewas, was about, by my advice, to take his departure for Paris, a finecarriage arrived, with superb presents for Djalma, from an unknownfriend. In this carriage were two men--one sent by the unknownfriend--the other a doctor, sent by you to attend upon Djalma, andaccompany him to Paris. It was a charitable act, brother--was it notso?"

  "Go on with your story, sir."

  "Djalma set out yesterday. By declaring that the prince's wound wouldgrow seriously worse, if he did not lie down in the carriage during allthe journey, the doctor got rid of the envoy of the unknown friend, whowent away by himself. The doctor wished to get rid of me too; but Djalmaso strongly insisted upon it, that I accompanied the prince and doctor.Yesterday evening, we had come about half the distance. The doctorproposed we should pass the night at an inn. 'We have plenty of time,'said he, 'to reach Paris by to-morrow evening'--the prince having toldhim, that he must absolutely be in Paris by the evening of the 12th. Thedoctor had been very pressing to set out alone with the prince. I knewby Van Dael's letter, that it was of great importance to you for Djalmanot to be here on the 13th; I had my suspicions, and I asked thedoctor if he knew you; he answered with an embarrassed air, and then mysuspicion became certainty. When we reached the inn, whilst the doctorwas occupied with Djalma, I went up to the room of the former, andexamined a box full of phials that he had brought with him. One of themcontained opium--and then I guessed--"

  "What did you guess, sir?"

  "You shall know. The doctor said to Djalma, before he left him: 'Yourwound is doing well, but the fatigue of the journey might bring oninflammation; it will be good for you, in the course of to-morrow, totake a soothing potion, that I will make ready this evening, to havewith us in the carriage.' The doctor's plan was a simple one," addedFaringhea; "to-day the prince was to take the potion at four or fiveo'clock in the afternoon--and fall into a deep sleep--the doctor to growuneasy, and stop the carriage--to declare that it would be dangerous tocontinue the journey--to pass the night at an inn, and keep close watchover the prince, whose stupor was only, to cease when it suited yourpurposes. That was your design--it was cleverly planned--I chose to makeuse of it myself, and I have succeeded."

  "All that you are talking about, my dear sir," said Rodin, biting hisnails, "is pure Hebrew to me."

  "No doubt, because of my accent. But tell me, have you heard speak ofarray--mow?"

  "No."

  "Your loss! It is an admirable production of the Island of Java, sofertile in poisons."

  "What is that to me?" said Rodin, in a sharp voice, but hardly able todissemble his growing anxiety.

  "It concerns you nearly. We sons of Bowanee have a horror of sheddingblood," resumed Faringhea; "to pass the cord round the neck of ourvictims, we wait till they are asleep. When their sleep is not deepenough, we know how to make it deeper. We are skillful at our work; theserpent is not more cunning, or the lion more valiant, Djalma himselfbears our mark. The array-mow is an impalpable powder, and, by lettingthe sleeper inhale a few grains of it, or by mixing it with the tobaccoto be smoked by a waking man, we can throw our victim into a stupor,from which nothing will rouse him. If we fear to administer too strong adose at once, we let the sleeper inhale a little at different times, andwe can thus prolong the trance at pleasure, and without any danger,as long as a man does not require meat and drink--say, thirty orforty hours. You see, that opium is mere trash compared to this divinenarcotic. I had brought some of this with me from Java--as a merecuriosity, you know--without forgetting the counter poison."

  "Oh! there is a counter-poison, then?" said Rodin, mechanically.

  "Just as there are people quite contrary to what we are, brother ofthe good work. The Javanese call the juice of this root tooboe; itdissipates the stupor caused by the array-mow, as the sun disperses theclouds. Now, yesterday evening, being certain of the projects of youremissary against Djalma, I waited till the doctor was in bed andasleep. I crept into his room, and made him inhale such a dose ofarray-mow--that he is probably sleeping still."

  "Miscreant!" cried Rodin, more and more alarmed by this narrative, forFaringhea had dealt a terrible blow at the machinations of the sociusand his friends. "You risk poisoning the doctor."

  "Yes, brother; just as he ran the risk of poisoning Djalma. This morningwe set out, leaving your doctor at the inn, plunged in a deep sleep.I was alone in the carriage with Djalma. He smoked like a true Indian;some grains of array-mow, mixed with the tobacco in his long pipe, firstmade him drowsy; a second dose, that he inhaled, sent him to sleep; andso I left him at the inn where we stopped. Now, brother, it dependsupon me, to leave Djalma in his trance, which will last till to-morrowevening or to rouse him from it on the instant. Exactly as youcomply with my demands or not, Djalma will or will not be in the RueSaint-Francois to morrow."

  So saying, Faringhea drew from his pocket the medal belonging to Djalma,and observed, as he showed it to Rodin: "You see that I tell youthe truth. During Djalma's sleep, took from him this medal, the onlyindication he has of the place where he ought to be to-morrow. I finish,then as I began: Brother, I have come to ask you for a great deal."

  For some minutes, Rodin had been biting his nails to the quick, as washis custom when seized with a fit of dumb and concentrated rage. Justthen, the bell of the porter's lodge rang three times in a particularmanner. Rodin did not appear to notice it, and yet a sudden lightsparkled in his small reptile eyes; while Faringhea, with his armsfolded, looked at him with an expression of triumph and disdainfulsuperiority. The socius bent down his head, remained silent for someseconds, took mechanically a pen from his desk, and began to gnaw thefeather, as if in deep reflection upon what Faringhea had just said.Then, throwing down the pen upon the desk, he turned suddenly towardsthe half-caste, and addressed him with an air of profound contempt "Now,really, M. Faringhea--do you think to make game of us with your cock-andbull stories?"

  Amazed, in spite of his audacity, the half-caste recoiled a step.

  "What, sir!" resumed Rodin. "You come here into a respectable house,to boast that you have stolen letters, strangled this man, drugged thatother?--Why, sir, it is downright madness. I wished to hear you to theend, to see to what extent you would carry your audacity--for none but amonstrous rascal would venture to plume himself on such infamous crimes.But I prefer believing, that they exist only in your imagination."

  As he barked out these words, with a degree of animation not usualin him, Rodin rose from his seat
, and approached the chimney, whileFaringhea, who had not yet recovered from his surprise, looked at himin silence. In a few seconds, however, the half-caste returned, with agloomy and savage mien: "Take care, brother; do not force me to prove toyou that I have told the truth."

  "Come, come, sir; you must be fresh from the Antipodes, to believe usFrenchmen such easy dupes. You have, you say, the prudence of a serpent,and the courage of a lion. I do not know if you are a courageous lion,but you are certainly not a prudent serpent. What! you have about you aletter from M. Van Dael, by which I might be compromised--supposing allthis not to be a fable--you have left Prince Djalma in a stupor, whichwould serve my projects, and from which you alone can rouse him--you areable, you say, to strike a terrible blow at my interests--and yet you donot consider (bold lion! crafty serpent as you are!) that I only want togain twenty-four hours upon you. Now, you come from the end of India toParis, an unknown stranger--you believe me to be as great a scoundrel asyourself,--since you call me brother--and do not once consider, that youare here in my power--that this street and house are solitary, andthat I could have three or four persons to bind you in a second, savageStrangler though you are!--and that just by pulling this bell-rope,"said Rodin, as he took it in his hand. "Do not be alarmed," added he,with a diabolical smile, as he saw Faringhea make an abrupt movement ofsurprise and fright; "would I give you notice, if I meant to act inthis manner?--But just answer me. Once bound and put in confinement fortwenty-four hours, how could you injure me? Would it not be easy forme to possess myself of Van Dael's letter, and Djalma's medal? and thelatter, plunged in a stupor till to-morrow evening, need not trouble meat all. You see, therefore, that your threats are vain because they restupon falsehood--because it is not true, that Prince Djalma is here andin your power. Begone, sir--leave the house; and when next you wish tomake dupes, show more judgment in the selection."

  Faringhea seemed struck with astonishment. All that he had just heardseemed very probable. Rodin might seize upon him, the letter, and themedal, and, by keeping him prisoner, prevent Djalma from being awakened.And yet Rodin ordered him to leave the house, at the moment whenFaringhea had imagined himself so formidable. As he thought forthe motives of this inexplicable conduct, it struck him that Rodin,notwithstanding the proofs he had brought him, did not yet believe thatDjalma was in his power. On that theory, the contempt of Van Dael'scorrespondent admitted of a natural explanation. But Rodin was playing abold and skillful game; and, while he appeared to mutter to himself,as in anger, he was observing, with intense anxiety, the Strangler'scountenance.

  The latter, almost certain that he had divined the secret motive ofRodin, replied: "I am going--but one word more. You think I deceiveyou?"

  "I am certain of it. You have told me nothing but a tissue of fables,and I have lost much time in listening to them. Spare me the rest; it islate--and I should like to be alone."

  "One minute more: you are a man, I see, from whom nothing should behid," said Faringhea, "from Djalma, I could now only expect alms anddisdain--for, with a character like this, to say to him, 'Pay me,because I might have betrayed you and did not,' would be to provoke hisanger and contempt. I could have killed him twenty times over, but hisday is not yet come," said the Thug, with a gloomy air; "and to wait forthat and other fatal days, I must have gold, much gold. You alone canpay me for the betrayal of Djalma, for you alone profit by it. Yourefuse to hear me, because you think I am deceiving you. But I took thedirection of the inn where we stopped--and here it is. Send some one toascertain the truth of what I tell you, and then you will believe me.But the price of my services will be high; for I told you that I wantedmuch."

  So saying, Faringhea offered a printed card to Rodin: the socius, who,out of the corner of his eye, followed all the half-caste's movements,appeared to be absorbed in thought, and taking no heed of anything.

  "Here is the address," repeated Faringhea, as he held out the card toRodin; "assure yourself that I do not lie."

  "Eh? what is it?" said the other, casting a rapid but stolen glance atthe address, which he read greedily, without touching the card.

  "Take this address," repeated the half-caste, "and you may then assureyourself--"

  "Really, sir," cried Rodin, pushing back the card with his hand, "yourimpudence confounds me. I repeat that I wish to have nothing in commonwith you. For the last time, I tell you to leave the house. I knownothing about your Prince Djalma. You say you can injure me--do so--makeno ceremonies--but, in heaven's name, leave me to myself."

  So saying, Rodin rang the bell violently. Faringhea made a movement asif to stand upon the defensive; but only the old servant, with his quietand placid mien, appeared at the door.

  "Lapierre, light the gentleman out," said Rodin, pointing to Faringhea.

  Terrified at Rodin's calmness, the half-caste hesitated to leave theroom.

  "Why do you wait, sir?" said Rodin, remarking his hesitation. "I wish tobe alone."

  "So, sir," said Faringhea, as he withdrew, slowly, "you refuse myoffers? Take care! to-morrow it will be too late."

  "I have the honor to be your most humble servant, sir," said Rodin,bowing courteously. The Strangler went out, and the door closed uponhim.

  Immediately, Father d'Aigrigny entered from the next room. Hiscountenance was pale and agitated.

  "What have you done?" exclaimed he addressing Rodin.

  "I have heard all. I am unfortunately too sure that this wretch spokethe truth. The Indian is in his power, and he goes to rejoin him."

  "I think not," said Rodin, humbly, as bowing, he reassumed his dull andsubmissive countenance.

  "What will prevent this man from rejoining the prince?"

  "Allow me. As soon as the rascal was shown in, I knew him; and so,before speaking a word to him, I wrote a few lines to Morok, who waswaiting below with Goliath till your reverence should be at leisure.Afterwards, in the course of the conversation, when they brought meMorok's answer, I added some fresh instructions, seeing the turn thataffairs were taking."

  "And what was the use of all this, since you have let the man leave thehouse?"

  "Your reverence will perhaps deign to observe that he did not leave it;till he had given me the direction of the hotel where the Indian now is,thanks to my innocent stratagem of appearing to despise him. But, if ithad failed, Faringhea would still have fallen into the hands of Goliathand Morok, who are waiting for him in the street, a few steps from thedoor. Only we should have been rather embarrassed, as we should not haveknown where to find Prince Djalma."

  "More violence!" said Father d'Aigrigny, with repugnance.

  "It is to be regretted, very much regretted," replied Rodin; "but it wasnecessary to follow out the system already adopted."

  "Is that meant for a reproach?" said Father d'Aigrigny, who began tothink that Rodin was something more than a mere writing-machine.

  "I could not permit myself to blame your reverence," said Rodin,cringing almost to the ground. "But all that will be required is toconfine this man for twenty-four hours."

  "And afterwards--his complaints?"

  "Such a scoundrel as he is will not dare to complain. Besides, he leftthis house in freedom. Morok and Goliath will bandage his eyes when theyseize him. The house has another entrance in the Rue Vieille-des-Ursins.At this hour, and in such a storm, no one will be passing through thisdeserted quarter of the town. The knave will be confused by the changeof place; they will put him into a cellar, of the new building, and tomorrow night, about the same hour, they will restore him to liberty withthe like precautions. As for the East Indian, we now know where to findhim; we must send to him a confidential person, and, if he recovers fromhis trance, there would be, in my humble opinion," said Rodin, modestly,"a very simple and quiet manner of keeping him away from the Rue SaintFrancois all day to-morrow."

  The same servant with the mild countenance, who had introduced and shownout Faringhea, here entered the room, after knocking discreetly at thedoor. He held in his hand a sort of game-bag, which
he gave to Rodin,saying: "Here is what M. Morok has just brought; he came in by the RueVieille."

  The servant withdrew, and Rodin, opening the bag, said to Fatherd'Aigrigny, as he showed him the contents: "The medal, and Van Dael'sletter. Morok has been quick at his work."

  "One more danger avoided," said the marquis; "it is a pity to be forcedto such measures."

  "We must only blame the rascal who has obliged us to have recourse tothem. I will send instantly to the hotel where the Indian lodges."

  "And, at seven in the morning, you will conduct Gabriel to the Rue SaintFrancois. It is there that I must have with him the interview which hehas so earnestly demanded these three days."

  "I informed him of it this evening, and he awaits your orders."

  "At last, then," said Father d'Aigrigny, "after so many struggles, andfears, and crosses, only a few hours separate us from the moment whichwe have so long desired."

  We now conduct the reader to the house in the Rue Saint-Francois.

  (13) The doctrine of passive and absolute obedience, the principal toolin the hands of the Jesuits, as summed up in these terrible words of thedying Loyola--that every member of the order should be in the hands ofhis superiors as a dead body--'perinde ad cadaver'.