Le Juif errant. English

by Eugène Sue

  CHAPTER XXXIII. CONFESSIONS.

  During the painful scene that we have just described, a lively emotionglowed in the countenance of Mdlle. de Cardoville, grown pale and thinwith sorrow. Her cheeks, once so full, were now slightly hollowed,whilst a faint line of transparent azure encircled those large blackeyes, no longer so bright as formerly. But the charming lips, thoughcontracted by painful anxiety, had retained their rich and velvetmoisture. To attend more easily to Mother Bunch, Adrienne had thrownaside her bonnet, and the silky waves of her beautiful golden hairalmost concealed her face as she bent over the mattress, rubbing thethin, ivory hands of the poor sempstress, completely called to life bythe salubrious freshness of the air, and by the strong action of thesalts which Adrienne carried in her smelling-bottle. Luckily, MotherBunch had fainted, rather from emotion and weakness than from theeffects of suffocation, the senses of the unfortunate girl havingfailed her before the deleterious gas had attained its highest degree ofintensity.

  Before continuing the recital of the scene between the sempstress andthe patrician, a few retrospective words will be necessary. Sincethe strange adventure at the theatre of the Porte-Saint-Martin, whereDjalma, at peril of his life, rushed upon the black panther in sight ofMdlle. de Cardoville, the young lady had been deeply affected in variousways. Forgetting her jealousy, and the humiliation she had suffered inpresence of Djalma--of Djalma exhibiting himself before every one with awoman so little worthy of him--Adrienne was for a moment dazzled by thechivalrous and heroic action of the prince, and said to herself: "Inspite of odious appearances, Djalma loves me enough to brave death inorder to pick up my nosegay."

  But with a soul so delicate as that of this young lady, a character sogenerous, and a mind so true, reflection was certain soon to demonstratethe vanity of such consolations, powerless to cure the cruel wounds ofoffended dignity an love.

  "How many times," said Adrienne to herself, and with reason, "has theprince encountered, in hunting, from pure caprice and with no gain, suchdanger as he braved in picking up my bouquet! and then, who tells me hedid not mean to offer it to the woman who accompanied him?"

  Singular (it may be) in the eyes of the world, but just and great inthose of heaven, the ideas which Adrienne cherished with regard to love,joined to her natural pride, presented an invincible obstacle to thethought of her succeeding this woman (whoever she might be), thuspublicly displayed by the prince as his mistress. And yet Adriennehardly dared avow to herself, that she experienced a feeling ofjealousy, only the more painful and humiliating, the less her rivalappeared worthy to be compared to her.

  At other times, on the contrary, in spite of a conscious sense of herown value, Mdlle. de Cardoville, remembering the charming countenance ofRose-Pompon, asked herself if the bad taste and improper manners of thispretty creature resulted from precocious and depraved effrontery, orfrom a complete ignorance of the usages of society. In the latter case,such ignorance, arising from a simple and ingenuous nature, might initself have a great charm; and if to this attraction, combined with thatof incontestable beauty, were added sincere love and a pure soul, theobscure birth, or neglected education of the girl might be of littleconsequence, and she might be capable of inspiring Djalma with aprofound passion. If Adrienne hesitated to see a lost creature inRose-Pompon, notwithstanding unfavorable appearances, it was because,remembering what so many travellers had related of Djalma's greatness ofsoul, and recalling the conversation she had overheard between himand Rodin, she could not bring herself to believe that a man ofsuch remarkable intelligence, with so tender a heart, so poetical,imaginative and enthusiastic a mind could be capable of loving adepraved and vulgar creature, and of openly exhibiting himself in publicalong with her. There was a mystery in the transaction, which Adriennesought in vain to penetrate. These trying doubts, this cruel curiosity,only served to nourish Adrienne's fatal love; and we may imagine herincurable despair, when she found that the indifference, or even disdainof Djalma, was unable to stifle a passion that now burned more fiercelythan ever. Sometimes, having recourse to notions of fatality, shefancied that she was destined to feel this love; that Djalma musttherefore deserve it, and that one day whatever was incomprehensible inthe conduct of the prince would be explained to his advantage. At othertimes, on the contrary, she felt ashamed of excusing Djalma, and theconsciousness of this weakness was for Adrienne a constant occasionfor remorse and torture. The victim of all these agonies, she lived inperfect solitude.

  The cholera soon broke out, startling as a clap of thunder. Too unhappyto fear the pestilence on her own account, Adrienne was only moved bythe sorrows of others. She was amongst the first to contribute to thosecharitable donations, which were now flowing in from all sides in theadmirable spirit of benevolence. Florine was suddenly attacked by theepidemic. In spite of the danger, her mistress insisted on seeing her,and endeavored to revive her failing courage. Conquered by this new markof kindness, Florine could no longer conceal the treachery in which shehad borne a part. Death was about to deliver her from the odious tyrannyof the people whose yoke weighed upon her, and she was at length in aposition to reveal everything to Adrienne. The latter thus learned howshe had been continually betrayed by Florine, and also the cause of thesewing-girl's abrupt departure. At these revelations, Adrienne felt heraffection and tender pity for the poor sempstress greatly increase. Byher command, the most active steps were taken to discover traces of thehunchback; but Florine's confession had a still more important result.Justly alarmed at this new evidence of Rodin's machinations, Adrienneremembered the projects formed, when, believing herself beloved, theinstinct of affection had revealed to her the perils to which Djalma andother members of the Rennepont family were exposed. To assemble therace around her, and bid them rally against the common enemy, such wasAdrienne's first thought, when she heard the confession of Florine. Sheregarded it as a duty to accomplish this project. In a struggle withsuch dangerous and powerful adversaries as Rodin, Father d'Aigrigny, andthe Princess de Saint-Dizier, and their allies, Adrienne saw not onlythe praiseworthy and perilous task of unmasking hypocrisy and cupidity,but also, if not a consolation, at least a generous diversion in themidst of terrible sorrows.

  From this moment, a restless, feverish activity took the place of themournful apathy in which the young lady had languished. She called roundher all the members of her family capable of answering the appeal, and,as had been mentioned in the secret note delivered to Father d'Aigrigny,Cardoville House soon became the centre of the most active and unceasingoperations, and also a place of meeting, in which the modes of attackand defence were fully discussed. Perfectly correct in all points, thesecret note of which we have spoken stated, as a mere conjecture, thatMdlle. de Cardoville had granted an interview to Djalma. This fact wasuntrue, but the cause which led to the supposition will be explainedhereafter. Far from such being the case, Mdlle. de Cardoville scarcelyfound, in attending to the great family interests now at stake, amomentary diversion from the fatal love, which was slowly underminingher health, and with which she so bitterly reproached herself.

  The morning of the day on which Adrienne, at length discovering MotherBunch's residence, came so miraculously to rescue her from death,Agricola Baudoin had been to Cardoville House to confer on the subjectof Francis Hardy, and had begged Adrienne to permit him to accompany herto the Rue Clovis, whither they repaired in haste.

  Thus, once again, there was a noble spectacle, a touching symbol! Mdlle.de Cardoville and Mother Bunch, the two extremities of the social chain,were united on equal terms--for the sempstress and the fair patricianwere equal in intelligence and heart--and equal also, because the onewas the ideal of riches, grace, and beauty, and the other the idealof resignation and unmerited misfortune--and does not a halo rest onmisfortune borne with courage and dignity? Stretched on her mattress,the hunchback appeared so weak, that even if Agricola had not beendetained on the ground floor with Cephyse, now dying a dreadful death,Mdlle. de Cardoville would have waited some time, before inducing MotherBu
nch to rise and accompany her to her carriage. Thanks to the presenceof mind and pious fraud of Adrienne, the sewing-girl was persuadedthat Cephyse had been carried to a neighboring hospital, to receivethe necessary succors, which promised to be crowned with success. Thehunchback's faculties recovering slowly from their stupor, she at firstreceived this fable without the least suspicion--for she did not evenknow that Agricola had accompanied Mdlle. de Cardoville.

  "And it is to you, lady, that Cephyse and I owe our lives," said she,turning her mild and melancholy face towards Adrienne, "you, kneeling inthis garret, near this couch of misery, where I and my sister meant todie--for you assure me, lady, that Cephyse was succored in time."

  "Be satisfied! I was told just now that she was recovering her senses."

  "And they told her I was living, did they not, lady? Otherwise, shewould perhaps regret having survived me."

  "Be quite easy, my dear girl!" said Adrienne, pressing the poor hands inher own, and gazing on her with eyes full of tears; "they have told herall that was proper. Do not trouble yourself about anything; only thinkof recovering--and I hope you will yet enjoy that happiness of which youhave known so little, my poor child."

  "How kind you are, lady! After flying from your house--and when you mustthink me so ungrateful!"

  "Presently, when you are not so weak, I have a great deal to tell you.Just now, it would fatigue you too much. But how do you feel?"

  "Better, lady. This fresh air--and then the thought, that, since you arecome--my poor sister will no more be reduced to despair; for I willtell you all, and I am sure you will have pity on Cephyse--will you not,lady?"

  "Rely upon me, my child," answered Adrienne, forced to dissemble herpainful embarrassment; "you know I am interested in all that interestsyou. But tell me," added Mdlle. de Cardoville, in a voice of emotion,"before taking this desperate resolution, did you not write to me?"

  "Yes, lady."

  "Alas!" resumed Adrienne, sorrowfully; "and when you received noanswer--how cruel, how ungrateful you must have thought me!"

  "Oh! never, lady, did I accuse you of such feelings; my poor sister willtell you so. You had my gratitude to the last."

  "I believe you--for I knew your heart. But how then did you explain mysilence?"

  "I had justly offended you by my sudden departure, lady."

  "Offended!--Alas! I never received your letter."

  "And yet you know that I wrote to you, lady."

  "Yes, my poor girl; I know, also, that you wrote to me at my porter'slodge. Unfortunately, he delivered your letter to one of my women, namedFlorine, telling her it came from you."

  "Florine! the young woman that was so kind to me!"

  "Florine deceived me shamefully; she was sold to my enemies, and actedas a spy on my actions."

  "She!--Good Heavens!" cried Mother Bunch. "Is it possible?"

  "She herself," answered Adrienne, bitterly; "but, after all, wemust pity as well as blame her. She was forced to obey by a terriblenecessity, and her confession and repentance secured my pardon beforeher death."

  "Then she is dead--so young! so fair!"

  "In spite of her faults, I was greatly moved by her end. She confessedwhat she had done, with such heart-rending regrets. Amongst her avowals,she told me she had intercepted a letter, in which you asked for aninterview that might save your sister's life."

  "It is true, lady; such were the terms of my letter. What interest hadthey to keep it from you?"

  "They feared to see you return to me, my good guardian angel. You lovedme so tenderly, and my enemies dreaded your faithful affection, sowonderfully aided by the admirable instinct of your heart. Ah! I shallnever forget how well-deserved was the horror with which you wereinspired by a wretch whom I defended against your suspicions."

  "M. Rodin?" said Mother Bunch, with a shudder.

  "Yes," replied Adrienne; "but we will not talk of these people now.Their odious remembrance would spoil the joy I feel in seeing yourestored to life--for your voice is less feeble, your cheeks arebeginning to regain a little color. Thank God! I am so happy to havefound you once more;--if you knew all that I hope, all that I expectfrom our reunion--for we will not part again--promise me that, in thename of our friendship."

  "I--your friend!" said Mother Bunch, timidly casting down her eyes.

  "A few days before your departure from my house, did I not call youmy friend, my sister? What is there changed? Nothing, nothing,"added Mdlle. de Cardoville, with deep emotion. "One might say, onthe contrary, that a fatal resemblance in our positions renders yourfriendship even dearer to me. And I shall have it, shall I not. Oh, donot refuse it me--I am so much in want of a friend!"

  "You, lady? you in want of the friendship of a poor creature like me?"

  "Yes," answered Adrienne, as she gazed on the other with an expressionof intense grief; "nay, more, you are perhaps the only person, to whomI could venture to confide my bitter sorrows." So saying, Mdlle. deCardoville colored deeply.

  "And how do I deserve such marks of confidence?" asked Mother Bunch,more and more surprised.

  "You deserve it by the delicacy of your heart, by the steadiness of yourcharacter," answered Adrienne, with some hesitation; "then--you are awoman--and I am certain you will understand what I suffer, and pity me."

  "Pity you, lady?" said the other, whose astonishment continued toincrease. "You, a great lady, and so much envied--I, so humble anddespised, pity you?"

  "Tell me, my poor friend," resumed Adrienne, after some moments ofsilence, "are not the worst griefs those which we dare not avow toany one, for fear of raillery and contempt? How can we venture to askinterest or pity, for sufferings that we hardly dare avow to ourselves,because they make us blush?"

  The sewing-girl could hardly believe what she heard. Had herbenefactress felt, like her, the effects of an unfortunate passion, shecould not have held any other language. But the sempstress could notadmit such a supposition; so, attributing to some other cause thesorrows of Adrienne, she answered mournfully, whilst she thought of herown fatal love for Agricola, "Oh! yes, lady. A secret grief, of which weare ashamed, must be frightful--very frightful!"

  "But then what happiness to meet, not only a heart noble enough toinspire complete confidence, but one which has itself been tried bya thousand sorrows, and is capable of affording you pity, support andcounsel!--Tell me, my dear child," added Mdlle. de Cardoville, as shelooked attentively at Mother Bunch, "if you were weighed down by one ofthose sorrows, at which one blushes, would you not be happy, very happy,to find a kindred soul, to whom you might entrust your griefs, and halfrelieve them by entire and merited confidence?"

  For the first time in her life, Mother Bunch regarded Mdlle. deCardoville with a feeling of suspicion and sadness.

  The last words of the young lady seemed to her full of meaning"Doubtless, she knows my secret," said Mother Bunch to herself;"doubtless, my journal has fallen into her hands.--She knows my lovefor Agricola, or at least suspects it. What she has been saying to me isintended to provoke my confidence, and to assure herself if she has beenrightly informed."

  These thoughts excited in the workgirl's mind no bitter or ungratefulfeeling towards her benefactress; but the heart of the unfortunate girlwas so delicately susceptible on the subject of her fatal passion, that,in spite of her deep and tender affection for Mdlle. de Cardoville,she suffered cruelly at the thought of Adrienne's being mistress of hersecret.