by Eugène Sue
CHAPTER XXII. THE RED ROOM.
As Samuel had said, the door of the walled-up house had just beendisencumbered of the bricks, lead, and iron, which had kept it fromview, and its panels of carved oak appeared as fresh and sound, as onthe day when they had first been withdrawn from the influence of the airand time. The laborers, having completed their work, stood waitingupon the steps, as impatient and curious as the notary's clerk, whohad superintended the operation, when they saw Samuel slowly advancingacross the garden, with a great bunch of keys in his hand.
"Now, my friends," said the old man, when he had reached the steps,"your work is finished. The master of this gentleman will pay you, and Ihave only to show you out by the street door."
"Come, come, my good fellow," cried the clerk, "you don't think. Weare just at the most interesting and curious moment; I and these honestmasons are burning to see the interior of this mysterious house, and youwould be cruel enough to send us away? Impossible!"
"I regret the necessity, sir, but so it must he. I must be the first toenter this dwelling, absolutely alone, before introducing the heirs, inorder to read the testament."
"And who gave you such ridiculous and barbarous orders?" cried theclerk, singularly disappointed.
"My father, sir."
"A most respectable authority, no doubt; but come, my worthy guardian,my excellent guardian," resumed the clerk, "be a good fellow, and let usjust take a peep in at the door."
"Yes, yes, sir, only a peep!" cried the heroes of the trowel, with asupplicating air.
"It is disagreeable to have to refuse you, gentlemen," answered Samuel;"but I cannot open this door, until I am alone."
The masons, seeing the inflexibility of the old man, unwillinglydescended the steps; but the clerk had resolved to dispute the groundinch by inch, and exclaimed: "I shall wait for my master. I do not leavethe house without him. He may want me--and whether I remain on thesesteps or elsewhere, can be of little consequence to you my worthykeeper."
The clerk was interrupted in his appeal by his master himself, whocalled out from the further side of the courtyard, with an air ofbusiness: "M. Piston! quick, M. Piston--come directly!"
"What the devil does he want with me?" cried the clerk, in a passion."He calls me just at the moment when I might have seen something."
"M. Piston," resumed the voice, approaching, "do you not hear?"
While Samuel let out the masons, the clerk saw, through a clump oftrees, his master running towards him bareheaded, and with an air ofsingular haste and importance. The clerk was therefore obliged to leavethe steps, to answer the notary's summons, towards whom he went with avery bad grace.
"Sir, sir," said M. Dumesnil, "I have been calling you this hour withall my might."
"I did not hear you sir," said M. Piston.
"You must be deaf, then. Have you any change about you?"
"Yes sir," answered the clerk, with some surprise.
"Well, then, you must go instantly to the nearest stamp-office, andfetch me three or four large sheets of stamped paper, to draw up a deed.Run! it is wanted directly."
"Yes, sir," said the clerk, casting a rueful and regretful glance at thedoor of the walled-up house.
"But make haste, will you, M. Piston," said the notary.
"I do not know, sir, where to get any stamped paper."
"Here is the guardian," replied M. Dumesnil. "He will no doubt be ableto tell you."
At this instant, Samuel was returning, after showing the masons out bythe street-door.
"Sir," said the notary to him, "will you please to tell me where we canget stamped paper?"
"Close by, sir," answered Samuel; "in the tobacconist's, No. 17, RueVieille-du-Temple."
"You hear, M. Piston?" said the notary to his clerk. "You can get thestamps at the tobacconist's, No. 17, Rue Vieille-du-Temple. Be quick!for this deed must be executed immediately before the opening of thewill. Time presses."
"Very well, sir; I will make haste," answered the clerk, discontentedly,as he followed his master, who hurried back into the room where he hadleft Rodin, Gabriel, and Father d'Aigrigny.
During this time, Samuel, ascending the steps, had reached the door,now disencumbered of the stone, iron, and lead with which it had beenblocked up. It was with deep emotion that the old man having selectedfrom his bunch of keys the one he wanted, inserted it in the keyhole,and made the door turn upon its hinges. Immediately he felt on hisface a current of damp, cold air, like that which exhales from a cellarsuddenly opened. Having carefully re-closed and double-locked the door,the Jew advanced along the hall, lighted by a glass trefoil over thearch of the door. The panes had lost their transparency by the effect oftime, and now had the appearance of ground-glass. This hall, paved withalternate squares of black and white marble, was vast, sonorous, andcontained a broad staircase leading to the first story. The walls ofsmooth stone offered not the least appearance of decay or dampness; thestair-rail of wrought iron presented no traces of rust; it was inserted,just above the bottom step, into a column of gray granite, whichsustained a statue of black marble, representing a negro bearing aflambeau. This statue had a strange countenance, the pupils of the eyesbeing made of white marble.
The Jew's heavy tread echoed beneath the lofty dome of the hall.The grandson of Isaac Samuel experienced a melancholy feeling, as hereflected that the footsteps of his ancestor had probably been the lastwhich had resounded through this dwelling, of which he had closed thedoors a hundred and fifty years before; for the faithful friend,in favor of whom M. de Rennepont had made a feigned transfer of theproperty, had afterwards parted with the same, to place it in the nameof Samuel's grandfather, who had transmitted it to his descendants, asif it had been his own inheritance.
To these thoughts, in which Samuel was wholly absorbed, was joined theremembrance of the light seen that morning through the seven openings inthe leaden cover of the belvedere; and, in spite of the firmness of hischaracter, the old man could not repress a shudder, as, taking a secondkey from his bunch, and reading upon the label, The Key of the RedRoom, he opened a pair of large folding doors, leading to the innerapartments. The window which, of all those in the house, had alone beenopened, lighted this large room, hung with damask, the deep purple ofwhich had undergone no alteration. A thick Turkey carpet covered thefloor, and large arm-chairs of gilded wood, in the severe Louis XIV.style, were symmetrically arranged along the wall. A second door,leading to the next room, was just opposite the entrance. Thewainscoting and the cornice were white, relieved with fillets andmouldings of burnished gold. On each side of this door was a largepiece of buhl-furniture, inlaid with brass and porcelain, supportingornamental sets of sea crackle vases. The window was hung with heavydeep-fringed damask curtains, surmounted by scalloped drapery, withsilk tassels, directly opposite the chimney-piece of dark-gray marble,adorned with carved brass-work. Rich chandeliers, and a clock in thesame style as the furniture, were reflected in a large Venice glass,with basiled edges. A round table, covered with a cloth of crimsonvelvet, was placed in the centre of this saloon.
As he approached this table, Samuel perceived a piece of white vellum,on which were inscribed these words: "My testament is to be opened inthis saloon. The other apartments are to remain closed, until after thereading of my last will--M. De R."
"Yes," said the Jew, as he perused with emotion these lines traced solong ago; "this is the same recommendation as that which I received frommy father; for it would seem that the other apartments of this house arefilled with objects, on which M. de Rennepont set a high value, not fortheir intrinsic worth, but because of their origin. The Hall of Mourningmust be a strange and mysterious chamber. Well," added Samuel, as hedrew from his pocket a register bound in black shagreen, with a brasslock, from which he drew the key, after placing it upon the table, "hereis the statement of the property in hand, which I have been ordered tobring hither, before the arrival of the heirs."
The deepest silence reigned in the room, at the moment when Samuelpla
ced the register on the table. Suddenly a simple and yet moststartling occurrence roused him from his reverie. In the next apartmentwas heard the clear, silvery tone of a clock, striking slowly ten. Andthe hour was ten! Samuel had too much sense to believe in perpetualmotion, or in the possibility of constructing a clock to go far onehundred and fifty years. He asked himself, therefore, with surprise andalarm, how this clock could still be going, and how it could mark soexactly the hour of the day. Urged with restless curiosity, the old manwas about to enter the room; but recollecting the recommendation of hisfather, which had now been confirmed by the few lines he had just readfrom De Rennepont's pen, he stopped at the door, and listened withextreme attention.
He heard nothing--absolutely nothing, but the last dying vibration ofthe clock. After having long reflected upon this strange fact, Samuel,comparing it with the no less extraordinary circumstance of the lightperceived that morning through the apertures in the belvedere, concludedthat there must be some connection between these two incidents. Ifthe old man could not penetrate the true cause of these extraordinaryappearances, he at least explained them to himself, by remembering thesubterraneous communications, which, according to tradition, were saidto exist between the cellars of this house and distant places; and heconjectured that unknown and mysterious personages thus gained accessto it two or three times in a century. Absorbed in these thoughts Samuelapproached the fireplace, which, as we have said, was directly oppositethe window. Just then, a bright ray of sunlight, piercing the clouds,shone full upon two large portraits, hung upon either side of thefireplace, and not before remarked by the Jew. They were painted lifesize, and represented one a woman, the other a man. By the sober yetpowerful coloring of these paintings, by the large and vigorous style,it was easy to recognize a master's hand. It would have been difficultto find models more fitted to inspire a great painter. The womanappeared to be from five-and-twenty to thirty years of age. Magnificentbrown hair, with golden tints, crooned a forehead, white, noble, andlofty. Her head-dress, far from recalling the fashion, which Madame deSevigne brought in during the age of Louis XIV., reminded one rather ofsome of the portraits of Paul Veronese, in which the hair encircles theface in broad, undulating bands, surmounted by a thick plait, like acrown, at the back of the head. The eyebrows, finely pencilled, werearched over large eyes of bright, sapphire blue. Their gaze at onceproud and mournful, had something fatal about it. The nose, finelyformed, terminated in slight dilated nostrils: a half smile, almostof pain, contracted the mouth; the face was a long oval, and thecomplexion, extremely pale, was hardly shaded on the cheek by a lightrose-color. The position of the head and neck announced a rare mixtureof grace and dignity. A sort of tunic or robe, of glossy black material,came as high as the commencement of her shoulders, and just markingher lithe and tall figure, reached down to her feet, which were almostentirely concealed by the folds of this garment.
The attitude was full of nobleness and simplicity. The head looked whiteand luminous, standing out from a dark gray sky, marbled at the horizonby purple clouds, upon which were visible the bluish summits of distanthills, in deep shadow. The arrangement of the picture, as well as thewarm tints of the foreground, contrasting strongly with these distantobjects, showed that the woman was placed upon an eminence, from whichshe could view the whole horizon. The countenance was deeply pensive anddesponding. There was an expression of supplicating and resigned grief,particularly in her look, half raised to heaven, which one would havethought impossible to picture. On the left side of the fireplace was theother portrait, painted with like vigor. It represented a man, betweenthirty and thirty-five years of age, of tall stature. A large browncloak, which hung round him in graceful folds, did not quite conceal ablack doublet, buttoned up to the neck, over which fell a square whitecollar. The handsome and expressive head was marked with stern powerfullines, which did not exclude an admirable air of suffering, resignation,and ineffable goodness. The hair, as well as the beard and eyebrows, wasblack; and the latter, by some singular caprice of nature, insteadof being separated and forming two distinct arches, extended from onetemple to the other, in a single bow, and seemed to mark the forehead ofthis man with a black line.
The background of this picture also represented a stormy sky; but,beyond some rocks in the distance, the sea was visible, and appeared tomingle with the dark clouds. The sun, just now shining upon these tworemarkable figures (which it appeared impossible to forget, after onceseeing them), augmented their brilliancy.
Starting from his reverie, and casting his eyes by chance upon theseportraits, Samuel was greatly struck with them. They appeared almostalive. "What noble and handsome faces!" he exclaimed, as he approachedto examine them more closely. "Whose are these portraits? They are notthose of any of the Rennepont family, for my father told me that theyare all in the Hall of Mourning. Alas!" added the old man, "one mightthink, from the great sorrow expressed in their countenances, that theyought to have a place in that mourning-chamber."
After a moment's silence, Samuel resumed: "Let me prepare everything forthis solemn assembly, for it has struck ten." So saying, he placed thegilded arm-chairs round the table, and then continued, with a pensiveair: "The hour approaches, and of the descendants of my grandfather'sbenefactor, we have seen only this young priest, with the angeliccountenance. Can he be the sole representative of the Rennepont family?He is a priest, and this family will finish with him! Well! the momentis come when I must open this door, that the will may be read. Bathshebais bringing hither the notary. They knock at the door; it is time!" AndSamuel, after casting a last glance towards the place where the clockhad struck ten, hastened to the outer door, behind which voices were nowaudible.
He turned the key twice in the lock, and threw the portals open. To hisgreat regret, he saw only Gabriel on the steps, between Rodin and Fatherd'Aigrigny. The notary, and Bathsheba, who had served them as a guide,waited a little behind the principal group.
Samuel could not repress a sigh, as he stood bowing on the threshold,and said to them: "All is ready, gentlemen. You may walk in."