The Wandering Jew, Book VIII.. - Eugene Sue (trending books to read TXT) 📗

mind to unmask then. However, all this proves that you are a very

clever man--"

 

"Oh, madame!" said Rodin, humbly.

 

"Full of resources and invention--"

 

"Oh, madame!"

 

"It is not my fault if, in our long interview at Dr. Baleinier's, you

betrayed that superiority of mind which struck me so forcibly, and which

seems to embarrass you so much at present. What would you have,

sir?--great minds like yours find it difficult to maintain their

incognito. Yet, as by different ways--oh! very different," added the

young lady, maliciously, "we are tending to the same end (still keeping

in view our conversation at Dr. Baleinier's), I wish, for the sake of our

future communion, as you call it, to give you a piece of advice, and

speak frankly to you."

 

Rodin had listened to Mdlle. de Cardoville with apparent impassibility,

holding his hat under his arm, and twirling his thumbs, whilst his hands

were crossed upon his waistcoat. The only external mark of the intense

agitation into which he was thrown by the calm words of Adrienne, was

that the livid eyelids of the Jesuit, which had been hypocritically

closed, became gradually red, as the blood flowed into them.

Nevertheless, he answered Mdlle. de Cardoville in a firm voice, and with

a low bow: "Good advice and frankness are always excellent things."

 

"You see, sir," resumed Adrienne, with some excitement, "happy love

bestows such penetration, such energy, such courage, as enables one to

laugh at perils, to detect stratagems, and to defy hatred. Believe me,

the divine light which surrounds two loving hearts will be sufficient to

disperse all darkness, and reveal every snare. You see, in India--excuse

my weakness, but I like to talk of India," added the young girl, with a

smile of indescribable grace and meaning--"in India, when travellers

sleep at night, they kindle great fires round their ajoupa (excuse this

touch of local coloring), and far as extends the luminous circle, it puts

to flight by its mere brilliancy, all the impure and venomous reptiles

that shun the day and live only in darkness."

 

"The meaning of this comparison has quite escaped me," said Rodin,

continuing to twirl his thumbs, and half raising his eyelids, which were

getting redder and redder.

 

"I will speak more plainly," said Adrienne, with a smile. "Suppose, sir,

that the last is a service which you have rendered me and the prince--for

you only proceed by way of services--that, I acknowledge, is novel and

ingenious."

 

"Bravo, my dear child!" said the count, joyfully. "The execution will be

complete."

 

"Oh! this is meant for an execution?" said Rodin, still impassible.

 

"No, sir," answered Adrienne, with a smile; "it is a simple conversation

between a poor young girl and an old philosopher, the friend of humanity.

Suppose, then, that these frequent services that you have rendered to me

and mine have suddenly opened my eyes; or, rather," added the young girl,

in a serious tone, "suppose that heaven, who gives to the mother the

instinct to defend her child, has given me, along with happiness, the

instinct to preserve my happiness, and that a vague presentiment, by

throwing light on a thousand circumstances until now obscure, has

suddenly revealed to me that, instead of being the friend, you are

perhaps, the most dangerous enemy of myself and family."

 

"So we pass from the execution to suppositions," said Rodin, still

immovable.

 

"And from suppositions, sir, if you must have it, to certainty," resumed

Adrienne, with dignified firmness; "yes, now I believe that I was for

awhile your dupe, and I tell you, without hate, without anger, but with

regret--that it is painful to see a man of your sense and intelligence

stoop to such machinations, and, after having recourse to so many

diabolical manoeuvres, finish at last by being ridiculous; for, believe

me, there is nothing more ridiculous for a man like you, than to be

vanquished by a young girl, who has no weapon, no defence, no instructor,

but her love. In a word, sir, I look upon you from to-day as an

implacable and dangerous enemy; for I half perceive your aim, without

guessing by what means you will seek to accomplish it, No doubt your

future means will be worthy of the past. Well! in spite of all this, I do

not fear you. From tomorrow, my family will be informed of everything,

and an active, intelligent, resolute union will keep us all upon our

guard, for it doubtless concerns this enormous inheritance, of which they

wish to deprive us. Now, what connection can there be between the wrongs

I reproach you with and the pecuniary end proposed? I do not at all

know--but you have told me yourself that our enemies are so dangerously

skillful, and their craft so far-reaching, that we must expect all, be

prepared for all. I will remember the lesson. I have promised you

frankness, sir, and now I suppose you have it."

 

"It would be an imprudent frankness if I were your enemy," said Rodin,

still impassible; "but you also promised me some advice, my dear young

lady."

 

"My advice will be short; do not attempt to continue the struggle,

because, you see, there is something stronger than you and yours--it is a

woman's resolve, defending her happiness."

 

Adrienne pronounced these last words with so sovereign a confidence; her

beautiful countenance shone, as is it were, with such intrepid joy, that

Rodin, notwithstanding his phlegmatic audacity, was for a moment

frightened. Yet he did not appear in the least disconcerted; and, after a

moment's silence, he resumed, with an air of almost contemptuous

compassion: "My dear young lady, we may perhaps never meet again; it is

probable. Only remember one thing, which I now repeat to you: I never

justify myself. The future will provide for that. Notwithstanding which,

my dear young lady, I am your humble servant;" and he made her a low bow.

 

"Count, I beg to salute you most respectfully," he added, bowing still

more humbly to M. de Montbron; and he went out.

 

Hardly had Rodin left the room than Adrienne ran to her desk, and writing

a few hasty lines, sealed the note, and said to M. de Montbron: "I shall

not see the prince before to-morrow--as much from superstition of the

heart as because it is necessary for my plans that this interview should

be attended with some little solemnity. You shall know all; but I write

to him on the instant, for, with an enemy like M. Rodin, one must be

prepared for all."

 

"You are right, my dear child; quick! the letter." Adrienne gave it to

him.

 

"I tell him enough," said she, "to calm his grief; and not enough to

deprive me of the delicious happiness of the surprise I reserve for to

morrow."

 

"All this has as much sense as heart in it: I will hasten to the prince's

abode, to deliver your letter. I shall not see him, for I could not

answer for myself. But come! our proposed drive, our evening's amusement,

are still to hold good."

 

"Certainly. I have more need than ever to divert my thoughts till to

morrow. I feel, too, that the fresh air will do me good, for this

interview with M. Rodin has warmed me a little."

 

"The old wretch! but we will talk further of him. I will hasten to the

prince's and return with Madame de Morinval, to fetch you to the Champs

Elysees."

 

The Count de Montbron withdrew precipitately, as joyful at his departure

as he had been sad on his arrival.

CHAPTER XI. (THE CHAMPS-ELYSEES)

 

It was about two hours after the interview of Rodin with Mdlle. de

Cardoville. Numerous loungers, attracted to the Champs-Elysees by the

serenity of a fine spring day (it was towards the end of the month of

March) stopped to admire a very handsome equipage. A bright-blue open

carriage, with white-and-blue wheels, drawn by four superb horses, of

cream color, with black manes, and harness glittering with silver

ornaments, mounted by two boy postilions of equal size, with black velvet

caps, light-blue cassimere jackets with white collars, buckskin breeches,

and top-boots; two tall, powdered footmen, also in light-blue livery,

with white collars and facings, being seated in the rumble behind.

 

No equipage could have been turned out in better style. The horses, full

of blood, spirit, and vigor, were skillfully managed by the postilions,

and stepped with singular regularity, gracefully keeping time in their

movements, champing their bits covered with foam, and ever and anon

shaking 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 the other

side of the avenue, contemplated with proud satisfaction this equipage

which he had, as it were, created. It was M. de Bonneville--Adrienne's

equerry, as M. de Montbron called him--for the carriage belonged to that

young lady. A change had taken place in the plan for this magic day's

amusement. M. de Montbron had not been able to deliver Mdlle. de

Cardoville's note to Prince Djalma. Faringhea had told him that the

prince had gone that morning into the country with Marshal Simon, and

would not be back before evening. The letter should be given him on his

arrival. Completely satisfied as to Djalma, knowing that he could find

these few lines, which, without informing him of the happiness that

awaited him, would at least give him some idea of it, Adrienne had

followed the advice of M. de Montbron, and gone to the drive in her own

carriage, to show all the world that she had quite made up her mind, in

spite of the perfidious reports circulated by the Princess de Saint

Dizier, to keep to her resolution of living by herself in her own way.

Adrienne wore a small white bonnet, with a fall of blonde, which well

became her rosy face and golden hair; her high dress of garnet-colored

velvet was almost hidden beneath a large green cashmere shawl. The young

Marchioness de Morinval, who was also very pretty and elegant, was seated

at her right. M. de Montbron occupied the front seat of the carriage.

 

Those who know the Parisian world, or rather, that imperceptible fraction

of the world of Paris which goes every fine, sunny day to the Champs

Elysees, to see and be seen, will understand that the presence of Mdlle.

de Cardoville on that brilliant promenade was an extraordinary and

interesting event.

 

The world (as it is called) could hardly believe its eyes, on seeing this

lady of eighteen, possessed of princely wealth, and belonging to the

highest nobility, thus prove to every one, by this appearance in public,

that she was living completely free and independent, contrary to all

custom and received notions of propriety. This kind of emancipation

appeared something monstrous, and people were almost astonished that the

graceful and dignified bearing of the young lady should belie so

completely the calumnies circulated by Madame de Saint-Dizier and her

friends, 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 few minutes

by the side of the carriage, so as to have an opportunity of seeing,

admiring, and perhaps hearing, Mdlle. de Cardoville; she surpassed their

expectations, by talking with her usual grace and spirit. Then surprise

and enthusiasm knew no bounds. What had at first been blamed as an almost

insane caprice, was now voted a charming originality, and it only

depended on Mdlle. de Cardoville herself, to be declared from that day

the queen of elegance and fashion. The young lady understood very well

the impression she had made; she felt proud and happy, for she thought of

Djalma; when she compared him to all these men of fashion, her happiness

was the more increased. And, verily, these young men, most of whom had

never quitted Paris, or had ventured at most as far as Naples or Baden,

looked insignificant enough by the side of Djalma, who, at his age, had

so many times commanded and combated in bloody wars, and whose reputation

far courage and generosity, mentioned by travellers with admiration, had

already reached from