The Wandering Jew, Book VIII.. by Eugene Sue (feel good novels txt) 📕

CHAPTER X. (THE EXECUTION.)

 

Rodin entered. A rapid glance at Mdlle. de Cardoville and M. de Montbron

told him at once that he was in a dilemma. In fact, nothing could be less

encouraging than the faces of Adrienne and the count. The latter, when he

disliked people, exhibited his antipathy, as we have already said, by an

impertinently aggressive manner, which had before now occasioned a good

number of duels. At sight of Rodin, his countenance at once assumed a

harsh and insolent expression; resting his elbow on the chimney-piece,

and conversing with Adrienne, he looked disdainfully over his shoulder,

without taking the least notice of the Jesuit's low bow. On the other

hand, at sight of this man, Mdlle. de Cardoville almost felt surprise,

that she should experience no movement of anger or hatred. The brilliant

flame which burned in her heart, purified it from every vindictive

sentiment. She smiled, on the contrary; for, glancing with gentle pride

at the Indian Bacchus, and then at herself, she asked herself what two

beings, so young, and fair, and free, and loving, could have to fear from

this old, sordid man, with his ignoble and base countenance, now

advancing towards her with the writhing of a reptile. In a word, far from

feeling anger or aversion with regard to Rodin, the young lady seemed

full of the spirit of mocking gayety, and her large eyes, already lighted

up with happiness, now sparkled with irony and mischief. Rodin felt

himself ill at ease. People of his stamp greatly prefer violent to

mocking enemies. They can encounter bursts of rage--sometimes by falling

on their knees, weeping, groaning, and beating their breasts--sometimes

by turning on their adversary, armed and implacable. But they are easily

disconcerted by biting raillery; and thus it was with Rodin. He saw that

between Adrienne de Cardoville and M. de Montbron, he was about to be

placed in what is vulgarly termed a "regular fix."

 

The count opened the fire; still glancing over his shoulder, he said to

Rodin: 'Ah! you are here, my benevolent gentleman!"

 

"Pray, sir, draw a little nearer," said Adrienne, with a mocking smile.

"Best of friends and model of philosophers--as well as declared enemy of

all fraud and falsehood--I have to pay you a thousand compliments."

 

"I accent anything from you, my dear young lady, even though undeserved,"

said the Jesuit, trying to smile, and thus exposing his vile yellow

teeth; "but may I be informed how I have earned these compliments?"

 

"Your penetration, sir, which is rare--" replied Adrienne.

 

"And your veracity, sir," said the count, "which is perhaps no less

rare--"

 

"In what have I exhibited my penetration, my dear young lady?" said

Rodin, coldly. "In what my veracity?" added he, turning towards M. de

Montbron.

 

"In what, sir?" said Adrienne. "Why, you have guessed a secret surrounded

by difficulties and mystery. In a word, you have known how to read the

depths of a woman's heart."

 

"I, my dear young lady?"

 

"You, sir! rejoice at it, for your penetration has had the most fortunate

results."

 

"And your veracity has worked wonders," added the count.

 

"It is pleasant to do good, even without knowing it," said Rodin, still

acting on the defensive, and throwing side glances by turns on the count

and Adrienne; "but will you inform me what it is that deserves this

praise--"

 

"Gratitude obliges me to inform you of it," said Adrienne, maliciously;

"you have discovered, and told Prince Djalma, that I was passionately in

love. Well! I admire your penetration; it was true."

 

"You have also discovered, and told this lady, that Prince Djalma was

passionately in love," resumed the count. "Well! I admire your

penetration, my dear sir; it was true."

 

Rodin looked confused, and at a loss for a reply.

 

"The person that I loved so passionately," said Adrienne, "was the

prince."

 

"The person that the prince loved so passionately," resumed the count,

"was this lady."

 

These revelations, so sudden and alarming, almost stunned Rodin; he

remained mute and terrified, thinking of the future.

 

"Do you understand now, sir, the extent of our gratitude towards you?"

resumed Adrienne, in a still more mocking tone. "Thanks to your sagacity,

thanks to the touching interest you take in us, the prince and I are

indebted to you for the knowledge of our mutual sentiments."

 

The Jesuit had now gradually recovered his presence of mind, and his

apparent calmness greatly irritated M. de Montbron, who, but for

Adrienne's presence, would have assumed another tone than jests.

 

"There is some mistake," said Rodin, "in what you have done me the honor

to tell me, my dear young lady. I have never in my life spoken of the

sentiments, however worthy and respectable, that you may entertain for

Prince Djalma--"

 

"That is true," replied Adrienne; "with scrupulous and exquisite

discretion, whenever you spoke to me of the deep love felt by Prince

Djalma, you carried your reserve and delicacy so far as to inform me that

it was not I whom he loved."

 

"And the same scruple induced you to tell the prince that Mdlle. de

Cardoville loved some one passionately--but that he was not the person,"

added the count.

 

"Sir," answered Rodin, dryly, "I need hardly tell you that I have no

desire to mix myself up with amorous intrigues."

 

"Come! this is either pride or modesty," said the count, insolently. "For

your own interest, pray do not advance such things; for, if we took you

at your word, and it became known, it might injure some of the nice

little trades that you carry on."

 

"There is one at least," said Rodin, drawing himself up as proudly as M.

de Montbron, "whose rude apprenticeship I shall owe to you. It is the

wearisome one of listening to your discourse."

 

"I tell you what, my good sir!" replied the count, disdainfully: "you

force me to remind you that there are more ways than one of chastising

impudent rogues."

 

"My dear count!" said Adrienne to M. de Montbron, with an air of

reproach.

 

With perfect coolness, Rodin replied: "I do not exactly see, sir, first,

what courage is shown by threatening a poor old man like myself, and,

secondly--"

 

"M. Rodin," said the count, interrupting the Jesuit, "first, a poor old

man like you, who does evil under the shelter of the age he dishonors, is

both cowardly and wicked, and deserves a double chastisement; secondly,

with regard to this question of age, I am not aware that gamekeepers and

policemen bow down respectfully to the gray coats of old wolves, and the

gray hairs of old thieves. What do you think, my good sir?"

 

Still impassible, Rodin raised his flabby eyelids, fixed for hardly a

second his little reptile eye upon the count, and darted at him one of

his rapid, cold, and piercing glances--and then the livid eyelid again

covered the dull eye of that corpse-like face.

 

"Not having the disadvantage of being an old wolf, and still less an old

thief," said Rodin, quietly, "you will permit me, sir, to take no account

of the pursuit of hunters and police. As for the reproaches made me, I

have a very simple method of answering--I do not say of justifying

myself--I never justify myself--"

 

"You don't say!" said the count.

 

"Never," resumed Rodin coolly; "my acts are sufficient for that. I will

then simply answer that seeing the deep, violent, almost fearful

impression made by this lady on the prince--"

 

"Let this assurance which you give me of the prince's love," said

Adrienne interrupting Rodin with an enchanting smile, "absolve you of all

the evil you wished to do me. The sight of our happiness be your only

punishment!"

 

"It may be that I need neither absolution nor punishment, for, as I have

already had the honor to observe to the count, my dear young lady, the

future will justify my acts. Yes; it was my duty to tell the prince that

you loved another than himself, and to tell you that he loved another

than yourself--all in your mutual interest. That my attachment for you

may have misled me, is possible--I am not infallible; but, after my past

conduct towards you, my dear young lady, I have, perhaps, some right to

be astonished at seeing myself thus treated. This is not a complaint. If

I never justify myself, I never complain either."

 

"Now really, there is something heroic in all this, my good sir," said

the count. "You do not condescend to complain or justify yourself, with

regard to the evil you have done."

 

"The evil I have done?" said Rodin, looking fixedly at the count. "Are we

playing at enigmas?"

 

"What, sir!" cried the count, with indignation: "is it nothing, by your

falsehoods, to have plunged the prince into so frightful a state of

despair, that he has twice attempted his life? Is it nothing, by similar

falsehoods, to have induced this lady to believe so cruel and complete an

error, that but for the resolution I have to-day taken, it might have led

to the most fatal consequences?"

 

"And will you do me the honor to tell me, sir, what interest I could have

in all this despair and error, admitting even that I had wished to

produce them?"

 

"Some great interest no doubt," said the count, bluntly; "the more

dangerous that it is concealed. You are one of those, I see, to whom the

woes of others are pleasure and profit."

 

"That is really too much, sir," said Rodin, bowing; "I should be quite

contented with the profit."

 

"Your impudent coolness will not deceive me; this is a serious matter,"

said the count. "It is impossible that so perfidious a piece of roguery

can be an isolated act. Who knows but this may still be one of the fruits

of Madame de Saint-Dizier's hatred for Mdlle. de Cardoville?"

 

Adrienne had listened to the preceding discussion with deep attention.

Suddenly she started, as if struck by a sudden revelation.

 

After a moment's silence, she said to Rodin, without anger, without

bitterness, but with an expression of gentle and serene calmness: "We are

told, sir, that happy love works miracles. I should be tempted to believe

it; for, after some minutes' reflection, and when I recall certain

circumstances, your conduct appears to me in quite a new light."

 

"And what may this new perspective be, my dear young lady?"

 

"That you may see it from my point of view, sir, allow me to remind you

of a few facts. That sewing-girl was generously devoted to me; she had

given me unquestionable proofs of her attachment. Her mind was equal to

her noble heart; but she had an invincible dislike to you. All on a

sudden she disappears mysteriously from my house, and you do your best to

cast upon her odious suspicions. M. de Montbron has a paternal affection

for me; but, as I must confess, little sympathy for you; and you have

always tried to produce a coldness between us. Finally, Prince Djalma has

a deep affection for me, and you employ the most perfidious treachery to

kill that sentiment within him. For what end do you act thus? I do not

know; but certainly with some hostile design."

 

"It appears to me, madame," said Rodin, severely, "that you have

forgotten services performed."

 

"I do not deny, sir, that you took me from the house of Dr. Baleinier;

but, a few days sooner or later, I must infallibly have been released by

de Montbron."

 

"You are right, my dear child," said the count; "it may be that your

enemies wished to claim the merit of what must necessarily have happened

through the exertions of your friends."

 

"You are drowning, and I save you--it is all a mistake to feel grateful,"

said Rodin, bitterly; "some one else would no doubt have saved you a

little later."

 

"The comparison is wanting in exactness," said Adrienne, with a smile; "a

lunatic asylum is not a river, and though, from what I see, I think you

quite capable of diving, you have had no occasion to swim on this

occasion. You merely opened a door for me, which would have opened of

itself a little later."

 

"Very good, my dear child!" said the count, laughing heartily at

Adrienne's reply.

 

"I know, sir, that your care did not extend to me only. The daughters of

Marshal Simon were brought back by you; but we may imagine that the claim

of the Duke de Ligny to the possession of his daughters would not have

been in vain. You returned to an old soldier his imperial cross, which he

held to be a sacred relic; it is a very touching incident. Finally, you

unmasked the Abbe d'Aigrigny and Dr. Baleinier: but I had already made up

my