Le Juif errant. English

by Eugène Sue

  CHAPTER LXIII. FARINGHEA'S AFFECTION.

  It will, perhaps, be remembered that Djalma, when he heard for the firsttime that he was beloved by Adrienne, had, in the fulness of his joy,spoken thus to Faringhea, whose treachery he had just discovered, "Youleagued with my enemies, and I had done you no harm. You are wicked,because you are no doubt unhappy. I will strive to make you happy, sothat you may be good. Would you have gold?--you shall have it. Wouldyou have a friend?--though you are a slave, a king's son offers you hisfriendship."

  Faringhea had refused the gold, and appeared to accept the friendshipof the son of Kadja-sing. Endowed with remarkable intelligence, andextraordinary power of dissimulation the half-breed had easily persuadedthe prince of the sincerity of his repentance, and obtained credit forhis gratitude and attachment from so confiding and generous a character.Besides, what motives could Djalma have to suspect the slave, now becomehis friend? Certain of the love of Mdlle. de Cardoville, with whom hepassed a portion of every day, her salutary influence would have guardedhim against any dangerous counsels or calumnies of the half-caste, afaithful and secret instrument of Rodin, and attached by him to theCompany. But Faringhea, whose tact was amazing, did not act so lightly;he never spoke to the prince of Mdlle. de Cardoville, and waitedunobtrusively for the confidential communications into which Djalma wassometimes hurried by his excessive joy. A few days after the interviewlast described between Adrienne and Djalma, and on the morrow of the daywhen Rodin, certain of the success of Ninny Moulin's mission to SainteColombe, had himself put a letter in the post to the address of AgricolaBaudoin, the half-caste, who for some time had appeared oppressed with aviolent grief, seemed to get so much worse, that the prince, struck withthe desponding air of the man, asked him kindly and repeatedly the causeof his sorrow. But Faringhea, while he gratefully thanked the prince forthe interest he took in him, maintained the most absolute silence andreserve on the subject of his grief.

  These preliminaries will enable the reader to understand the followingscene, which took place about noon in the house in the Rue de Clichyoccupied by the Hindoo. Contrary to his habit, Djalma had not passedthat morning with Adrienne. He had been informed the evening before,by the young lady, that she must ask of him the sacrifice of this wholeday, to take the necessary measures to make their marriage sacred andacceptable in the eyes of the world, and yet free from the restrictionswhich she and Djalma disapproved. As for the means to be employed byMdlle. de Cardoville to attain this end, and the name of the pure andhonorable person who was to consecrate their union, these were secretswhich, not belonging exclusively to the young lady, could not yet becommunicated to Djalma. To the Indian, so long accustomed to devoteevery instant to Adrienne, this day seemed interminable. By turns aprey to the most burning agitation, and to a kind of stupor, in whichhe plunged himself to escape from the thoughts that caused his tortures,Djalma lay stretched upon a divan, with his face buried in his hands,as if to shut out the view of a too enchanting vision. Suddenly,without knocking at the door, as usual, Faringhea entered the prince'sapartment.

  At the noise the half-caste made in entering Djalma started, raisedhis head, and looked round him with surprise; but, on seeing the paleagitated countenance of the slave, he rose hastily, and advancingtowards him, exclaimed, "What is the matter, Faringhea!"

  After a moment's silence, and as if struggling with a painful feeling ofhesitation, Faringhea threw himself at the feet of Djalma, and murmuredin a weak, despairing, almost supplicating voice: "I am very miserable.Pity me, my good lord!"

  The tone was so touching, the grief under which the half-breed sufferedseemed to give to his features, generally fixed and hard as bronze,such a heart-rending expression, that Djalma was deeply affected, and,bending to raise him from the ground, said to him, in a kindly voice:"Speak to me! Confidence appeases the torments of the heart. Trust me,friend--for my angel herself said to me, that happy love cannot bear tosee tears about him."

  "But unhappy love, miserable love, betrayed love--weeps tears of blood,"replied Faringhea, with painful dejection.

  "Of what love dost thou speak?" asked Djalma, in surprise.

  "I speak of my love," answered the half-caste, with a gloomy air.

  "Of your love?" said Djalma, more and more astonished; not that the halfcaste, still young, and with a countenance of sombre beauty, appearedto him incapable of inspiring or feeling the tender passion, but that,until now, he had never imagined him capable of conceiving so deep asorrow.

  "My lord," resumed the half-caste, "you told me, that misfortune hadmade me wicked, and that happiness would make me good. In those words,I saw a presentiment, and a noble love entered my heart, at the momentwhen hatred and treachery departed from it. I, the half-savage, found awoman, beautiful and young, to respond to my passion. At least I thoughtso. But I had betrayed you, my lord, and there is no happiness fora traitor, even though he repent. In my turn, I have been shamefullybetrayed."

  Then, seeing the surprise of the prince, the half-caste added, as ifoverwhelmed with confusion: "Do not mock me, my lord! The most frightfultortures would not have wrung this confession from me; but you, the sonof a king, deigned to call the poor slave your friend!"

  "And your friend thanks you for the confidence," answered Djalma. "Farfrom mocking, he will console you. Mock you! do you think it possible?"

  "Betrayed love merits contempt and insult," said Faringhea, bitterly."Even cowards may point at one with scorn--for, in this country, thesight of the man deceived in what is dearest to his soul, the very lifeblood of his life, only makes people shrug their shoulders and laugh."

  "But are you certain of this treachery?" said Djalma, mildly. Then headded, with visible hesitation, that proved the goodness of his heart:"Listen to me, and forgive me for speaking of the past! It will only beanother proof, that I cherish no evil memories, and that I fully believein your repentance and affection. Remember, that I also once thought,that she, who is the angel of my life, did not love me--and yet itwas false. Who tells you, that you are not, like me, deceived by falseappearances?"

  "Alas, my lord! could I only believe so! But I dare not hope it. Mybrain wanders uncertain, I cannot come to any resolution, and thereforeI have recourse to you."

  "But what causes your suspicions?"

  "Her coldness, which sometimes succeeds to apparent tenderness. Therefusals she gives me in the name of duty. Yes," added the half-caste,after a moment's silence, "she reasons about her love--a proof, that shehas never loved me, or that she loves me no more."

  "On the contrary, she perhaps loves you all the more, that she takesinto consideration the interest and the dignity of her love."

  "That is what they all say," replied the half-caste, with bitter irony,as he fixed a penetrating look on Djalma; "thus speak all those who loveweakly, coldly; but those who love valiantly, never show these insultingsuspicions. For them, a word from the man they adore is a command;they do not haggle and bargain, for the cruel pleasure of exciting thepassion of their lover to madness, and so ruling him more surely. No,what their lover asks of them, were it to cost life and honor, theywould grant it without hesitation--because, with them, the will of theman they love is above every other consideration, divine and human. Butthose crafty women, whose pride it is to tame and conquer man--who takedelight in irritating his passion, and sometimes appear on the point ofyielding to it--are demons, who rejoice in the tears and torments of thewretch, that loves them with the miserable weakness of a child. While weexpire with love at their feet, the perfidious creatures are calculatingthe effects of their refusals, and seeing how far they can go, withoutquite driving their victim to despair. Oh! how cold and cowardly arethey, compared to the valiant, true-hearted women, who say to the menof their choice: 'Let me be thine to-day-and to-morrow, come shame,despair, and death--it matters little! Be happy! my life is not worthone tear of thine!"

  Djalma's brow had darkened, as he listened. Having kept inviolable thesecret of the various incidents of his passion for Mdlle.
de Cardoville,he could not but see in these words a quite involuntary allusion to thedelays and refusals of Adrienne. And yet Djalma suffered a moment in hispride, at the thought of considerations and duties, that a woman holdsdearer than her love. But this bitter and painful thought was sooneffaced from the oriental's mind, thanks to the beneficent influence ofthe remembrance of Adrienne. His brow again cleared, and he answeredthe half-caste, who was watching him attentively with a sidelong glance:"You are deluded by grief. If you have no other reason to doubt her youlove, than these refusals and vague suspicions, be satisfied! You areperhaps loved better than you can imagine."

  "Alas! would it were so, my lord!" replied the half-caste, dejectedly,as if he had been deeply touched by the words of Djalma. "Yet I sayto myself: There is for this woman something stronger than herlove--delicacy, dignity, honor, what you will--but she does not love meenough to sacrifice for me this something!"

  "Friend, you are deceived," answered Djalma, mildly, though the wordsaffected him with a painful impression. "The greater the love of awoman, the more it should be chaste and noble. It is love itself thatawakens this delicacy and these scruples. He rules, instead of beingruled."

  "That is true," replied the half-caste, with bitter irony, "Love sorules me, that this woman bids me love in her own fashion, and I haveonly to submit."

  Pausing suddenly, Faringhea hid his face in his hands, and heaved a deepdrawn sigh. His features expressed a mixture of hate, rage, and despair,at once so terrible and so painful, that Djalma, more and more affected,exclaimed, as he seized the other's hand: "Calm this fury, and listen tothe voice of friendship! It will disperse this evil influence. Speak tome!"

  "No, no! it is too dreadful!"

  "Speak, I bid thee."

  "No! leave the wretch to his despair!"

  "Do you think me capable of that?" said Djalma, with a mixture ofmildness and dignity, which seemed to make an impression on the halfcaste.

  "Alas!" replied he, hesitating; "do you wish to hear more, my lord?"

  "I wish to hear all."

  "Well, then! I have not told you all--for, at the moment of making thisconfession, shame and the fear of ridicule kept me back. You asked mewhat reason I had to believe myself betrayed. I spoke to you of vaguesuspicions, refusals, coldness. That is not all--this evening--"

  "Go on!"

  "This evening--she made an appointment--with a man that she prefers tome."

  "Who told you so?"

  "A stranger who pitied my blindness."

  "And suppose the man deceived you--or deceives himself?"

  "He has offered me proofs of what he advances."

  "What proofs?"

  "He will enable me this evening to witness the interview. 'It may be,'said he, 'that this appointment may have no guilt in it, notwithstandingappearances to the contrary. Judge for yourself, have courage, and yourcruel indecision will be at an end.'"

  "And what did you answer?"

  "Nothing, my lord. My head wandered as it does now and I came to you foradvice."

  Then, making a gesture of despair, he proceeded with a savage laugh:"Advice? It is from the blade of my kand-jiar that I should ask counsel!It would answer: 'Blood! blood!'"

  Faringhea grasped convulsively the long dagger attached to his girdle.There is a sort of contagion in certain forms of passion. At sight ofFaringhea's countenance, agitated by jealous fury, Djalma shuddered--forhe remembered the fit of insane rage, with which he had been possessed,when the Princess de Saint-Dizier had defied Adrienne to contradict her,as to the discovery of Agricola Baudoin in her bed-chamber. But then,reassured by the lady's proud and noble bearing, Djalma had soon learnedto despise the horrible calumny, which Adrienne had not even thoughtworthy of an answer. Still, two or three times, as the lightning willflash suddenly across the clearest sky, the remembrance of that shamefulaccusation had crossed the prince's mind, like a streak of fire, buthad almost instantly vanished, in the serenity and happiness of hisineffable confidence in Adrienne's heart. These memories, however,whilst they saddened the mind of Djalma, only made him morecompassionate with regard to Faringhea, than he might have been withoutthis strange coincidence between the position of the half-caste and hisown. Knowing, by his own experience, to what madness a blind fury maybe carried, and wishing to tame the half-caste by affectionatekindness, Djalma said to him in a grave and mild tone: "I offered you myfriendship. I will now act towards you a friend."

  But Faringhea, seemingly a prey to a dull and mute frenzy, stood withfixed and haggard eyes, as though he did not hear Djalma.

  The latter laid his hand on his shoulder, and resumed: "Faringhea,listen to me!"

  "My lord," said the half-caste, starting abruptly, as from a dream,"forgive me--but--"

  "In the anguish occasioned by these cruel suspicions, it is not of yourkandjiar that you must take counsel--but of your friend."

  "My lord--"

  "To this interview, which will prove the innocence or the treachery ofyour beloved, you will do well to go."

  "Oh, yes!" said the half-caste, in a hollow voice, and with a bittersmile: "I shall be there."

  "But you must not go alone."

  "What do you mean, my lord?" cried the half-caste. "Who will accompanyme?"

  "I will."

  "You, my lord?"

  "Yes--perhaps, to save you from a crime--for I know how blind and unjustis the earliest outburst of rage."

  "But that transport gives us revenge!" cried the half-caste, with acruel smile.

  "Faringhea, this day is all my own. I shall not leave you," said theprince, resolutely. "Either you shall not go to this interview, or Iwill accompany you."

  The half-caste appeared conquered by this generous perseverance. He fellat the feet of Djalma, pressed the prince's hand respectfully to hisforehead and to his lips, and said: "My lord, be generous to the end!forgive me!"

  "For what should I forgive you?"

  "Before I spoke to you, I had the audacity to think of asking for whatyou have just freely offered. Not knowing to what extent my fury mightcarry me, I had thought of asking you this favor, which you would notperhaps grant to an equal, but I did not dare to do it. I shrunk evenfrom the avowal of the treachery I have cause to fear, and I came onlyto tell you of my misery--because to you alone in all the world I couldtell it."

  It is impossible to describe the almost candid simplicity, with whichthe half-breed pronounced these words, and the soft tones, mingled withtears, which had succeeded his savage fury. Deeply affected, Djalmaraised him from the ground, and said: "You were entitled to ask of me amark of friendship. I am happy in having forestalled you. Courage! be ofgood cheer! I will accompany you to this interview, and if my hopesdo not deceive me, you will find you have been deluded by falseappearances."

  When the night was come, the half-breed and Djalma, wrapped in theircloaks, got into a hackney-coach. Faringhea ordered the coachman todrive to the house inhabited by Sainte-Colombe.