by Eugène Sue
CHAPTER XXXV. SYMPATHY.
If it had been possible for Mdlle. de Cardoville to harbor any suspicionof the sincerity of Rodin's devotion, it must have given way before thisreasoning, unfortunately so simple and undeniable. How could she supposethe faintest complicity between the Abbe d'Aigrigny and his secretary,when it was the latter who completely unveiled the machinations of hismaster, and exposed them to the tribunals? when in this, Rodin wenteven further than Mdlle. de Cardoville would herself have gone? Of whatsecret design could she suspect the Jesuit? At worst, of a desire toearn by his services the profitable patronage of the young lady.
And then, had he not just now protested against this supposition, bydeclaring his devotion, not to Mdlle. de Cardoville--not to the fair,rich, noble lady--but to the high-souled and generous girl? Finally,as Rodin had said himself, could any but a miserable wretch fail to beinterested in Adrienne's fate? A strange mixture of curiosity, surprise,and interest, was joined with Mdlle. de Cardoville's feelings ofgratitude towards Rodin. Yet, as she recognized the superior mind underthat humble exterior, she was suddenly struck with a grave suspicion."Sir," said she to Rodin, "I always confess to the persons I esteem thedoubts they may have inspired, so that they may justify themselves, andexcuse me, if I am wrong."
Rodin looked at Mdlle. de Cardoville with surprise, as if mentallycalculating the suspicions than she might entertain, and replied,after a moment's silence: "You are perhaps thinking of my journey toCardoville, of my base proposals to your good and worthy bailiff? Oh! ifyou--"
"No, no, sir," said Adrienne, interrupting him; "you made thatconfession spontaneously, and I quite understand, that, blinded withregard to M. d'Aigrigny, you passively executed instructions repugnantto your delicacy. But how comes it, that, with your incontestablemerits, you have so long; occupied so mean a position in his service?"
"It is true," said Rodin, with a smile; "that must impress youunfavorably, my dear young lady; for a man of any capacity, who remainslong in an inferior condition, has evidently some radical vice, some bador base passion--"
"It is generally true, sir."
"And personally true--with regard to myself."
"What, sir! do you make this avowal?"
"Alas! I confess that I have a bad passion, to which, for forty years, Ihave sacrificed all chances of attaining to a better position."
"And this passion, sir?"
"Since I must make the unpleasant avowal, this passion isindolence--yes, indolence--the horror of all activity of mind, of allmoral responsibility, of taking the lead in anything. With the twelvehundred francs that Abbe d'Aigrigny gave me, I was the happiest man inthe world; I trusted to the nobleness of his views; his thoughts becamemine, his wishes mine. My work once finished, I returned to my poorlittle chamber, I lighted my fire, I dined on vegetables--then, takingup some book of philosophy, little known, and dreaming over it, I gavefree course to my imagination, which, restrained all the day long,carried me through numberless theories to a delicious Utopia. Then, fromthe eminences of my intelligence, lifted up Lord knows whither, by theaudacity of my thoughts, I seemed to look down upon my master, and uponthe great men of the earth. This fever lasted for three or four hours,after which I had a good sleep; and, the next morning, I went lightly tomy work, secure of my daily bread, without cares for the future, livingcontent with little, waiting with impatience for the delights of mysolitary evening, and saying to myself as I went on writing like astupid machine: 'And yet--and yet--if I chose!'--"
"Doubtless, you could, like others, surer than others, have reached ahigher position," said Adrienne, greatly struck with Rodin's practicalphilosophy.
"Yes, I think I could have done so; but for what purpose?--You see, mydear young lady, what often renders people of some merit puzzles to thevulgar, is that they are frequently content to say: 'If I chose!'"
"But, sir, without attaching much importance to the luxuries oflife, there is a certain degree of comfort, which age renders almostindispensable, and which you seem to have utterly renounced."
"Undeceive yourself, if you please, my dear young lady," said Rodin,with a playful smile. "I am a true Sybarite; I require absolutely warmclothes, a good stove, a soft mattress, a good piece of bread, a freshradish, flavored with good cheap salt, and some good, clear water; and,notwithstanding this complication of wants, my twelve hundred francshave always more than sufficed, for I have been able to make some littlesavings."
"But now that you are without employment, how will you manage to live,sir?" said Adrienne, more and more interested by the singularities ofthis man, and wishing to put his disinterestedness to the proof.
"I have laid by a little, which will serve me till I have unravelledthe last thread of Father d'Aigrigny's dark designs. I owe myself thisreparation, for having been his dupe; three or four days, I hope, willcomplete the work. After that, I have the certainty of meeting with asituation, in my native province, under a collector of taxes: sometime ago, the offer was made me by a friend; but then I would not leaveFather d'Aigrigny, notwithstanding the advantages proposed. Fancy, mydear young lady--eight hundred francs, with board and lodging! As I ama little of the roughest, I should have preferred lodging apart; but, asthey give me so much, I must submit to this little inconvenience."
Nothing could exceed Rodin's ingenuity, in making these little householdconfidences (so abominably false) to Mdlle. de Cardoville, who felt herlast suspicions give way.
"What, sir?" said she to the Jesuit, with interest; "in three or fourdays, you mean to quit Paris?"
"I hope to do so, my dear young lady; and that," added he, in amysterious tone, "and that for many reasons. But what would be veryprecious to me," he resumed, in a serious voice, as he looked atAdrienne with emotion, "would be to carry with me the conviction,that you did me the justice to believe, that, on merely reading yourinterview with the Princess de Saint-Dizier, I recognized at oncequalities quite unexampled in our day, in a young person of your age andcondition."
"Ah, sir!" said Adrienne, with a smile, "do not think yourselfobliged to return so soon the sincere praises that I bestowed on yoursuperiority of mind. I should be better pleased with ingratitude."
"Oh, no! I do not flatter you, my dear young lady. Why should I? Wemay probably never meet again. I do not flatter you; I understandyou--that's all--and what will seem strange to you, is, that yourappearance complete, the idea which I had already formed of you, my dearyoung lady, in reading your interview with your aunt: and some parts ofyour character, hitherto obscure to me, are now fully displayed."
"Really, sir, you astonish me more and more."
"I can't help it! I merely describe my impressions. I can now explainperfectly, for example, your passionate love of the beautiful, youreager worship of the refinements of the senses, your ardent aspirationsfor a better state of things, your courageous contempt of many degradingand servile customs, to which woman is condemned; yes, now Iunderstand the noble pride with which you contemplate the mob of vain,self-sufficient, ridiculous men, who look upon woman as a creaturedestined for their service, according to the laws made after their ownnot very handsome image. In the eyes of these hedge-tyrants, woman, akind of inferior being to whom a council of cardinals deigned to grant asoul by a majority of two voices, ought to think herself supremely happyin being the servant of these petty pachas, old at thirty, worn-out,used up, weary with excesses, wishing only for repose, and seeking, asthey say, to make an end of it, which they set about by marrying somepoor girl, who is on her side desirous to make a beginning."
Mdlle. de Cardoville would certainly have smiled at these satiricalremarks, if she had not been greatly struck by hearing Rodin express insuch appropriate terms her own ideas, though it was the first time inher life that she saw this dangerous man. Adrienne forgot, orrather, she was not aware, that she had to deal with a Jesuit of rareintelligence, uniting the information and the mysterious resources ofthe police-spy with the profound sagacity of the confessor; one of thosediabolic priests, who, by t
he help of a few hints, avowals, letters,reconstruct a character, as Cuvier could reconstruct a body fromzoological fragments. Far from interrupting Rodin, Adrienne listenedto him with growing curiosity. Sure of the effect he produced, hecontinued, in a tone of indignation: "And your aunt and the Abbed'Aigrigny treated you as mad, because you revolted against the yoke ofsuch tyrants! because, hating the shameful vices of slavery, you choseto be independent with the suitable qualities of independence, free withthe proud virtues of liberty!"
"But, sir," said Adrienne, more and more surprised, "how can my thoughtsbe so familiar to you?"
"First, I know you perfectly, thanks to your interview with the Princessde Saint-Dizier: and next, if it should happen that we both pursue thesame end, though by different means," resumed Rodin, artfully, as helooked at Mdlle. de Cardoville with an air of intelligence, "why shouldnot our convictions be the same?"
"I do not understand you, sir. Of what end do you speak?"
"The end pursued incessantly by all lofty, generous, independentspirits--some acting, like you, my dear young lady, from passion, frominstinct, without perhaps explaining to themselves the high mission theyare called on to ful, fil. Thus, for example, when you take pleasurein the most refined delights, when you surround yourself with all thatcharms the senses, do you think that you only yield to the attractionsof the beautiful, to the desire of exquisite enjoyments? No! ah, no! forthen you would be incomplete, odiously selfish, a dry egotist, with afine taste--nothing more--and at your age, it would be hideous, my dearyoung lady, it would be hideous!"
"And do you really think thus severely of me?" said Adrienne, withuneasiness, so much influence had this man irresistibly attained overher.
"Certainly, I should think thus of you, if you loved luxury for luxury'ssake; but, no--quite another sentiment animates you," resumed theJesuit. "Let us reason a little. Feeling a passionate desire for allthese enjoyments, you know their value and their need more than anyone--is it not so?"
"It is so," replied Adrienne, deeply interested.
"Your gratitude and favor are then necessarily acquired by those who,poor, laborious, and unknown, have procured for you these marvels ofluxury, which you could not do without?"
"This feeling of gratitude is so strong in me, sir," replied Adrienne,more and more pleased to find herself so well understood, "that I oncehad inscribed on a masterpiece of goldsmith's work, instead of the nameof the seller, that of the poor unknown artist who designed it, and whohas since risen to his true place."
"There you see, I was not deceived," went on Rodin; "the taste forenjoyment renders you grateful to those who procure it for you; andthat is not all; here am I, an example, neither better nor worse than myneighbors, but accustomed to privations, which cause me no suffering--sothat the privations of others necessarily touch me less nearly than theydo you, my dear young lady; for your habits of comfort must needs renderyou more compassionate towards misfortune. You would yourself suffer toomuch from poverty, not to pity and succor those who are its victims."
"Really, sir," said Adrienne, who began to feel herself under the fatalcharm of Rodin, "the more I listen to you, the more I am convinced thatyou would defend a thousand times better than I could those ideas forwhich I was so harshly reproached by Madame de Saint-Dizier andAbbe d'Aigrigny. Oh! speak, speak, sir! I cannot tell you with whathappiness, with what pride I listen."
Attentive and moved, her eyes fixed on the Jesuit with as much interestas sympathy and curiosity, Adrienne, by a graceful toss of the head thatwas habitual to her, threw hack her long, golden curls, the better tocontemplate Rodin, who thus resumed: "You are astonished, my dear younglady, that you were not understood by your aunt or by Abbe d'Aigrigny!What point of contact had you with these hypocritical, jealous, craftyminds, such as I can judge them to be now? Do you wish a new proof oftheir hateful blindness? Among what they called your monstrous follies,which was the worst, the most damnable? Why, your resolution to livealone and in your own way, to dispose freely of the present and thefuture. They declared this to be odious, detestable, immoral. Andyet--was this resolution dictated by a mad love of liberty? no!--bya disordered aversion to all restraint? no!--by the desire ofsingularity?--no!--for then I, too, should have blamed you severely."
"Other reasons have indeed guided me, sir, I assure you," said Adrienneeagerly, for she had become very eager for the esteem with which hercharacter might inspire Rodin.
"Oh! I know it well; your motives could only be excellent ones," repliedthe Jesuit. "Why then did you take this resolution, so much called inquestion? Was it to brave established etiquette? no! for you respectedthem until the hate of Mme. de Saint-Dizier forced you to withdrawyourself from her unbearable guardianship. Was it to live alone, toescape the eyes of the world? no! you would be a hundred times more opento observation in this than any other condition. Was it to make a baduse of your liberty? no, ah, no! those who design evil seek for darknessand solitude; while you place yourself right before the jealousanal envious eyes of the vulgar crowd. Why then do you take thisdetermination, so courageous and rare, unexampled in a young person ofyour age? Shall I tell you, my dear young lady? It is, that you wish toprove, by your example, that a woman of pure heart and honest mind, witha firm character and independence of soul, may nobly and proudly throwoff the humiliating guardianship that custom has imposed upon her. Yes,instead of accepting the fate of a revolted slave, a life only destinedto hypocrisy or vice, you wish to live freely in presence of all theworld, independent, honorable, and respected. You wish to have, likeman, the exercise of your own free will, the entire responsibilityof all your actions, so as to establish the fact, that a woman leftcompletely to herself, may equal man in reason, wisdom, uprightness, andsurpass him indelicacy and dignity. That is your design, my dear younglady. It is noble and great. Will your example be imitated? I hope itmay; but whether it be so or not, your generous attempt, believe me,will place you in a high and worthy position."
Mdlle. de Cardoville's eyes shone with a proud and gentle brightness,her cheeks were slightly colored, her bosom heaved, she raised hercharming head with a movement of involuntary pride; at length completelyunder the charm of that diabolical man she exclaimed: "But, sir, who areyou that can thus know and analyze my most secret thoughts, and readmy soul more clearly than myself, so as to give new life and action tothose ideas of independence which have long stirred within me? Who areyou, that can thus elevate me in my own eyes, for now I am conscious ofaccomplishing a mission, honorable to myself, and perhaps useful to mysisters immersed in slavery? Once again, sir, who are you?"
"Who am I, madame?" answered Rodin, with a smile of the greatest goodnature; "I have already told you that I am a poor old man, who for thelast forty years, having served in the day time as a writing machine torecord the ideas of others, went home every evening to work out ideas ofhis own--a good kind of man who, from his garret, watches and even takessome little share in the movement of generous spirits, advancing towardsan end that is nearer than is commonly thought. And thus, my dear younglady, as I told you just now, you and I are both tending towards thesame objects, though you may do the same without reflection, and merelyin obedience to your rare and divine instincts. So continue so to live,fair, free, and happy!--it is your mission--more providential than youmay think it. Yes; continue to surround yourself with all the marvels ofluxury and art; refine your senses, purify your tastes, by the exquisitechoice of your enjoyments; by genius, grace, and purity raise yourselfabove the stupid and ill-favored mob of men, that will instantlysurround you, when they behold you alone and free; they will consideryou an easy prey, destined to please their cupidity, their egotism,their folly.
"Laugh at them, and mock these idiotic and sordid pretensions. Bethe queen of your own world, and make yourself respected as a queen.Love--shine--enjoy--it is your part upon earth. All the flowers, withwhich you are whelmed in profusion, will one day bear fruit. You thinkthat you have lived only for pleasure; in reality, you will have livedfor the nobles
t aims that could tempt a great and lofty soul. Andso--some years hence--we may meet again, perhaps; you, fairer and morefollowed than ever; I, older and more obscure. But, no matter--a secretvoice, I am sure, says to you at this moment, that between us two,however different, there exists an invisible bond, a mysteriouscommunion, which nothing hereafter will ever be able to destroy!"
He uttered these final words in a tone of such profound emotion, thatAdrienne started. Rodin had approached without her perceiving it, andwithout, as it were, walking at all, for he dragged his steps along thefloor, with a sort of serpent motion; and he had spoken with so muchwarmth and enthusiasm, that his pale face had become slightly tinged,and his repulsive ugliness had almost disappeared before the brilliancyof his small sharp eyes, now wide open, and fixed full upon Adrienne.The latter leaned forward, with half-open lips and deep-drawn breath,nor could she take her eyes from the Jesuit's; he had ceased to speak,and yet she was still listening. The feelings of the fair young lady,in presence of this little old man, dirty, ugly, and poor, wereinexplicable. That comparison so common, and yet so true, of thefrightful fascination of the bird by the serpent, might give some ideaof the singular impression made upon her. Rodin's tactics were skillfuland sure. Until now, Mdlle. de Cardoville had never analyzed her tastesor instincts. She had followed them, because they were inoffensive andcharming. How happy and proud she then was sure to be to hear a man ofsuperior mind not only praise these tendencies, for which she had beenheretofore so severely blamed, but congratulate her upon them, as uponsomething great, noble, and divine! If Rodin had only addressed himselfto Adrienne's self-conceit, he would have failed in his perfidiousdesigns, for she had not the least spark of vanity. But he addressedhimself to all that was enthusiastic and generous in her heart; thatwhich he appeared to encourage and admire in her was really worthy ofencouragement and admiration. How could she fail to be the dupe of suchlanguage, concealing though it did such dark and fatal projects?
Struck with the Jesuit's rare intelligence, feeling her curiositygreatly excited by some mysterious words that he had purposely uttered,hardly explaining to herself the strange influence which this perniciouscounsellor already exercised over her, and animated by respectfulcompassion for a man of his age and talents placed in so precarious aposition, Adrienne said to him, with all her natural cordiality, "A manof your merit and character, sir, ought not to be at the mercy of thecaprice of circumstances. Some of your words have opened a new horizonbefore me; I feel that, on many points, your counsels may be of thegreatest use to me. Moreover, in coming to fetch me from this house, andin devoting yourself to the service of other persons of my family,you have shown me marks of interest which I cannot forget withoutingratitude. You have lost a humble but secure situation. Permit me--"
"Not a word more, my dear young lady," said Rodin, interrupting Mdlle.de Cardoville, with an air of chagrin. "I feel for you the deepestsympathy; I am honored by having ideas in common with you; I believefirmly that some day you will have to ask advice of the poor oldphilosopher; and, precisely because of all that, I must and ought tomaintain towards you the most complete independence."
"But, sir, it is I that would be the obliged party, if you deigned toaccept what I offer."
"Oh, my dear young lady," said Rodin, with a smile: "I know that yourgenerosity would always know how to make gratitude light and easy; but,once more, I cannot accept anything from you. One day, perhaps, you willknow why."
"One day?"
"It is impossible for me to tell you more. And then, supposing I wereunder an obligation to you, how could I tell you all that was good andbeautiful in your actions? Hereafter, if you are somewhat indebted tome for my advice, so much the better; I shall be the more ready to blameyou, if I find anything to blame."
"In this way, sir, you would forbid me to be grateful to you."
"No, no," said Rodin, with apparent emotion. "Oh, believe me! there willcome a solemn moment, in which you may repay all, in a manner worthy ofyourself and me."
This conversation was here interrupted by the nurse, who said toAdrienne as she entered: "Madame, there is a little humpback workwomandownstairs, who wishes to speak to you. As, according to the doctor'snew orders, you are to do as you like, I have come to ask, if I am tobring her up to you. She is so badly dressed, that I did not venture."
"Bring her up, by all means," said Adrienne, hastily, for she hadrecognized Mother Bunch by the nurse's description. "Bring her updirectly."
"The doctor has also left word, that his carriage is to be at yourorders, madame; are the horses to be put to?"
"Yes, in a quarter of an hour," answered Adrienne to the nurse, whowent out; then, addressing Rodin, she continued: "I do not think themagistrate can now be long, before he returns with Marshal Simon'sdaughters?"
"I think not, my dear young lady; but who is this deformed workwoman?"asked Rodin, with an air of indifference.
"The adopted sister of a gallant fellow, who risked all in endeavoringto rescue me from this house. And, sir," said Adrienne, with emotion,"this young workwoman is a rare and excellent creature. Never wasa nobler mind, a more generous heart, concealed beneath an exteriorless--"
But reflecting, that Rodin seemed to unite in his own person the samemoral and physical contrasts as the sewing-girl, Adrienne stopped short,and then added, with inimitable grace, as she looked at the Jesuit, whowas somewhat astonished at the sudden pause: "No; this noble girl isnot the only person who proves how loftiness of soul, and superiority ofmind, can make us indifferent to the vain advantages which belongonly to the accidents of birth or fortune." At the moment of Adriennespeaking these last words, Mother Bunch entered the room.