Le Juif errant. English

by Eugène Sue

  CHAPTER XI. THE CHAMPS-ELYSEES

  It was about two hours after the interview of Rodin with Mdlle. deCardoville. Numerous loungers, attracted to the Champs-Elysees by theserenity of a fine spring day (it was towards the end of the month ofMarch) stopped to admire a very handsome equipage. A bright-blue opencarriage, with white-and-blue wheels, drawn by four superb horses,of cream color, with black manes, and harness glittering with silverornaments, mounted by two boy postilions of equal size, with blackvelvet caps, light-blue cassimere jackets with white collars, buckskinbreeches, and top-boots; two tall, powdered footmen, also in light-bluelivery, with white collars and facings, being seated in the rumblebehind.

  No equipage could have been turned out in better style. The horses, fullof blood, spirit, and vigor, were skillfully managed by the postilions,and stepped with singular regularity, gracefully keeping time in theirmovements, champing their bits covered with foam, and ever and anonshaking 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 theother side of the avenue, contemplated with proud satisfactionthis equipage which he had, as it were, created. It was M. deBonneville--Adrienne's equerry, as M. de Montbron called him--for thecarriage belonged to that young lady. A change had taken place in theplan for this magic day's amusement. M. de Montbron had not been able todeliver Mdlle. de Cardoville's note to Prince Djalma. Faringhea had toldhim that the prince had gone that morning into the country with MarshalSimon, and would not be back before evening. The letter should be givenhim on his arrival. Completely satisfied as to Djalma, knowing thathe could find these few lines, which, without informing him of thehappiness that awaited him, would at least give him some idea of it,Adrienne had followed the advice of M. de Montbron, and gone to thedrive in her own carriage, to show all the world that she had quitemade up her mind, in spite of the perfidious reports circulated by thePrincess de Saint Dizier, to keep to her resolution of living by herselfin her own way. Adrienne wore a small white bonnet, with a fall ofblonde, which well became her rosy face and golden hair; her highdress of garnet-colored velvet was almost hidden beneath a large greencashmere shawl. The young Marchioness de Morinval, who was also verypretty and elegant, was seated at her right. M. de Montbron occupied thefront seat of the carriage.

  Those who know the Parisian world, or rather, that imperceptiblefraction of the world of Paris which goes every fine, sunny day to theChamps Elysees, to see and be seen, will understand that the presenceof Mdlle. de Cardoville on that brilliant promenade was an extraordinaryand interesting event.

  The world (as it is called) could hardly believe its eyes, on seeingthis lady of eighteen, possessed of princely wealth, and belonging tothe highest nobility, thus prove to every one, by this appearance inpublic, that she was living completely free and independent, contrary toall custom and received notions of propriety. This kind of emancipationappeared something monstrous, and people were almost astonished thatthe graceful and dignified bearing of the young lady should belie socompletely the calumnies circulated by Madame de Saint-Dizier and herfriends, 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 fewminutes by the side of the carriage, so as to have an opportunityof seeing, admiring, and perhaps hearing, Mdlle. de Cardoville; shesurpassed their expectations, by talking with her usual grace andspirit. Then surprise and enthusiasm knew no bounds. What had at firstbeen blamed as an almost insane caprice, was now voted a charmingoriginality, and it only depended on Mdlle. de Cardoville herself, to bedeclared from that day the queen of elegance and fashion. The young ladyunderstood very well the impression she had made; she felt proud andhappy, for she thought of Djalma; when she compared him to all thesemen of fashion, her happiness was the more increased. And, verily, theseyoung men, most of whom had never quitted Paris, or had ventured at mostas far as Naples or Baden, looked insignificant enough by the side ofDjalma, who, at his age, had so many times commanded and combated inbloody wars, and whose reputation far courage and generosity, mentionedby travellers with admiration, had already reached from India to Paris.And then, how could these charming exquisites, with their small hats,their scanty frock-coats, and their huge cravats, compare with theIndian prince, whose graceful and manly beauty was still heightened bythe splendor of a costume, at once so rich and so picturesque?

  On this happy day, all was joy and love for Adrienne. The sun, settingin a splendidly serene sky, flooded the promenade with its golden light.The air was warm. Carriages and horsemen passed and repassed in rapidsuccession; a light breeze played with the scarfs of the women, andthe plumes in their bonnets; all around was noise, movement, sunshine.Adrienne, leaning back in her carriage, amused herself with watchingthis busy scene, sparkling with Parisian luxury; but, in the vortexof this brilliant chaos, she saw in thought the mild, melancholycountenance of Djalma--when suddenly something fell into her lap, andshe started. It was a bunch of half-faded violets. At the same instantshe heard a child's voice following the carriage, and saying: "For thelove of heaven, my good lady, one little sou!" Adrienne turned her head,and saw a poor little girl, pale and wan, with mild, sorrowful features,scarcely covered with rags, holding out her hand, and raising her eyesin supplication. Though the striking contrast of extreme misery, sideby side with extreme luxury, is so common, that it no longer excitesattention, Adrienne was deeply affected by it. She thought of MotherBunch, now, perhaps, the victim of frightful destitution.

  "Ah! at least," thought the young lady, "let not this day be one ofhappiness for me alone!"

  She leaned from the carriage-window, and said to the poor child: "Haveyou a mother, my dear?"

  "No, my lady, I have neither father nor mother."

  "Who takes care of you?"

  "No one, my lady. They give me nosegays to sell, and I must bring homemoney--or they beat me."

  "Poor little thing!"

  "A sou, my good lady--a sou, for the love of heaven!" said the child,continuing to follow the carriage, which was then moving slowly.

  "My dear count," said Adrienne, smiling, and addressing M. de Montbron,"you are, unfortunately, no novice at an elopement. Please to stretchforth your arms, take up that child with both hands, and lift her intothe carriage. We can hide her between Lady de Morinval and myself; andwe can drive away before any one perceives this audacious abduction."

  "What!" said the count, in surprise. "You wish--"

  "Yes; I beg you to do it."

  "What a folly!"

  "Yesterday, you might, perhaps, have treated this caprice as a folly;but to-day," said Adrienne, laying great stress upon the word, andglancing at M. de Montbron with a significant air, "to-day, you shouldunderstand that it is almost a duty."

  "Yes, I understand you, good and noble heart!" said the count,with emotion; while Lady de Morinval, who knew nothing of Mdlle. deCardoville's love for Djalma, looked with as much surprise as curiosityat the count and the young lady.

  M. de Montbron, leaning from the carriage, stretched out his armstowards the child, and said to her: "Give me your hands, little girl."

  Though much astonished, the child obeyed mechanically, and held out bothher little arms; then the count took her by the wrists, and lifted herlightly from the ground, which he did the more easily, as the carnagewas very low, and its progress by no means rapid. More stupefied thanfrightened, the child said not a word. Adrienne and Lady de Morinvalmade room for her to crouch down between them, and the little girl wassoon hidden beneath the shawls of the two young women. All this wasexecuted so quickly, that it was hardly perceived by a few personspassing in the side-avenues.

  "Now, my dear count," said Adrienne, radiant with pleasure, "let us makeoff at once with our prey."

  M. de Montbron half rose, and called to the postilions. "Home!" and thefour horses started at once into a rapid and regular trot.r />
  "This day of happiness now seems consecrated, and my luxury is excused,"thought Adrienne; "till I can again meet with that poor Mother Bunch,and from this day I will make every exertion to find her out, her placewill at least not be quite empty."

  There are often strange coincidences in life. At the moment when thisthought of the hunchback crossed the mind of Adrienne, a crowd hadcollected in one of the side-avenues, and other persons soon ran to jointhe group.

  "Look, uncle!" said Lady de Morinval; "how many people are assembledyonder. What can it be? Shall we stop, and send to inquire?"

  "I am sorry, my dear, but your curiosity cannot be satisfied," saidthe count, drawing out his watch; "it will soon be six o'clock, and theexhibition of the wild beasts begin at eight. We shall only just havetime to go home and dine. Is not that your opinion, my dear child?" saidhe to Adrienne.

  "And yours, Julia?" said Mdlle. de Cardoville to the marchioness.

  "Oh, certainly!" answered her friend.

  "I am the less inclined to delay," resumed the count, "as when I havetaken you to the Porte-Saint-Martin, I shall be obliged to go for halfan-hour to my club, to ballot for Lord Campbell, whom I propose."

  "Then, Adrienne and I will be left alone at the play, uncle?"

  "Your husband will go with you, I suppose."

  "True, dear uncle; but do not quite leave us, because of that."

  "Be sure I shall not: for I am curious as you are to see these terribleanimals, and the famous Morok, the incomparable lion-tamer."

  A few minutes after, Mdlle. de Cardoville's carriage had left the ChampsElysees, carrying with it the little girl, and directing its coursetowards the Rue d'Anjou. As the brilliant equipage disappeared fromthe scene, the crowd, of which we before have spoken, greatly increasedabout one of the large trees in the Champs-Elysees, and expressions ofpity were heard here and there amongst the groups. A lounger approacheda young man on the skirts of the crowd, and said to him: "What is thematter, sir?"

  "I hear it is a poor young girl, a hunchback, that has fallen fromexhaustion."

  "A hunchback! is that all? There will always be enough hunchbacks," saidthe lounger, brutally, with a coarse laugh.

  "Hunchback or not, if she dies of hunger," answered the young man,scarcely able to restrain his indignation, "it will be no less sad--andthere is really nothing to laugh at, sir."

  "Die of hunger! pooh!" said the lounger, shrugging his shoulders. "Itis only lazy scoundrels, that will not work, who die of hunger. And itserves them right."

  "I wager, sir, there is one death you will never die of," cried theyoung man, incensed at the cruel insolence of the lounger.

  "What do you mean?" answered the other, haughtily.

  "I mean, sir, that your heart is not likely to kill you."

  "Sir!" cried the lounger in an angry tone.

  "Well! what, sir?" replied the young man, looking full in his face.

  "Nothing," said the lounger, turning abruptly on his heel, and grumblingas he sauntered towards an orange-colored cabriolet, on which wasemblazoned an enormous coat-of-arms, surmounted by a baron's crest.A servant in green livery, ridiculously laced with gold, was standingbeside the horse, and did not perceive his master.

  "Are you catching flies, fool?" said the latter, pushing him with hiscane. The servant turned round in confusion. "Sir," said he.

  "Will you never learn to call me Monsieur le Baron, rascal?" cried hismaster, in a rage--"Open the door directly!"

  The lounger was Baron Tripeaud, the manufacturing baron thestock-jobber. The poor hunchback was Mother Bunch, who had, indeedfallen with hunger and fatigue, whilst on her way to Mdlle. deCardoville's. The unfortunate creature had found courage to brave theshame of the ridicule she so much feared, by returning to that housefrom which she was a voluntary exile; but this time, it was not forherself, but for her sister Cephyse--the Bacchanal Queen, who hadreturned to Paris the previous day, and whom Mother Bunch now sought,through the means of Adrienne, to rescue from a most dreadful fate.

  Two hours after these different scenes, an enormous crowd pressed roundthe doors of the Porte-Saint-Martin, to witness the exercises of Morok,who was about to perform a mock combat with the famous black panther ofJava, named Death. Adrienne, accompanied by Lord and Lady de Morinval,now stepped from a carriage at the entrance of the theatre. They were tobe joined in the course of the evening by M. de Montbron, whom they haddropped, in passing, at his club.