The Jew Part 60

"Ah, yes! I remember. We were concealed in the forest. Beaten! Wounded!

How dark it is here! Is it a hospital or a tomb? Can they not at least bury me decently?"

"Have you any wish to have carried out, anything to confide in me?"

asked Jacob.

"The Cossack told me that I would be hanged to-morrow. No matter! I will return to the world in the form of a mad dog to murder them.

Towianski teaches the transmigration of souls. He is right. If there is a G.o.d, where is he? Is he afraid of the Russians?"

"Ivas," repeated Jacob, "rouse yourself, and tell me if you have any last instructions to give me."

"Liberty or death! Have they all perished? The scaffold awaits me. A cord of hemp. After that, nothing! It will hurt my throat, like strong tobacco. Were you ever hanged, my Jacob? No? Who knows; perhaps you were, under another form, according to Towianski. It will, I think, be the first time for me. I haven't the least idea of the thing, but I will be calm; I am no coward."

"Ivas, have you any relations, any friends? tell me."

"None! My mother died a long time ago. There is no cross over her grave. She was too poor; I was a little boy. With pebbles I designed a cross. My father? I have never seen him. Other relations? They turned the cold shoulder to me because I was poor. My will? Behold it. To arms!"

"Nothing more?"

"Nothing," replied Ivas, who had somewhat regained his mind. "Nothing.

I have no one in the world. Ah, yes! there is some one. You remember that old house that I showed you one day in Warsaw? On the fourth floor lives Marion, sad and thoughtful. She is a laundress, but in her former life she was, I am sure, a queen. But she has forgotten it. I think she loves me. Tell her that I thought of her when dying. She made me two shirts for the journey. Her hands are large and red, but she has the heart of an angel. Or, rather, tell her nothing. That will be better.

She will forget me, and console herself with a Russian officer. The poor girl!"

"Ivas," said Jacob, "my time here is short, we shall never meet again.

Be calm, and think if there is anything you wish me to do."

"I ask you to avenge me. How hot I am! Ah! Ah! An immense cemetery.

They dance. The earth is freshly broken up at the sound of a violin.

Some bears are dancing. The good G.o.d is looking at them from heaven through a little skylight. He strokes his mustache, and marks the measure."

"Ivas," cried Jacob, "be calm, I beg of you."

"Yes, I remember there were millions. We were a handful, and they attacked us, but we fought them. We did our duty! All dead!

_Requiescant!_ Is this death? Provided my soul does not enter into the body of a Muscovite, I do not care."

Jacob tried, without success, to make Ivas realize his situation. As soon as the dying man became more conscious, the pain of his wound was so extreme that, to prevent himself from crying aloud, he buried his head in the straw; then the delirium returned. It was a heartrending spectacle.

"Do you wish a priest?" asked the Jew.

"A priest? There was one in our band. Brave frater! A ball in his head, he is dead. A priest for me? What good? I have not confessed since my mother was no longer here to make me kneel and pray. A priest! I want none. It would do no good, for G.o.d has gone on a visit to St.

Petersburg, and no one knows when he will return. They do not confess the dead, and I am already dead, although I can still speak."

Then he continued his raving.

"Do you think they could have taken me alive? Never! Tell Marion that I had one of the shirts on, and the handkerchief around my neck, and also the medal of Notre Dame de Czestokowa, but the mother of G.o.d did not aid me! They have killed me!"

Jacob tried to revive him with some cologne that he had in a little flask. He bathed his forehead and temples, and poured several drops in his mouth; but it was useless.

"You perfume me," said the poor boy. "I smell it. I cannot go to the ball, I cannot dance."

He grew worse and his ravings continued. s.n.a.t.c.hes of songs, military commands, fragments of prayers and oaths, were all mingled together in an unintelligible manner.

Jacob was kneeling, holding the burning head of his friend, when suddenly some one struck his shoulder. It was the officer.

"Enough of this! Get up and come away!" said he.

"Dear Ivas," cried Jacob, without paying attention to the man; "one word more, dear Ivas, your last word!"

The condemned raised himself, threw his arms around his friend's neck, and with an expression full of love and enthusiasm, cried:--

"My country!"

Then he fell back weeping and laughing at the same time. The delirium had returned. The officer took Jacob by the shoulder and forced him out of the room.

Madre awaited him, and before he let them depart the officer extorted a present.

Before retiring, Jacob knocked at Jankiel's door.

"Have you seen the poor man?" asked his host.

"Yes."

Then he detailed the interview with Ivas which terminated with the thrilling words, "My country!"

During this sad recital, in the silence of the night they could hear, on the square below, the blows of a hammer. It was the gibbet of the young patriot which they were finishing in the centre of the marketplace. They pa.s.sed the rest of the night in prayer.

Ivas died before daybreak, and as they were unable to execute him living, they hanged his dead body. The Russians having thus proclaimed their victory quitted the village, leaving their souvenir of terrorism.

CHAPTER XXIX.

THE GORDIAN KNOT.

The same morning that Jacob left his house for fear of arrest, Henri Segel returned to breakfast. It was only at meal-times that he saw his wife, and then for but a few moments. He usually went away so early in the morning that Mathilde rarely saw him until evening.

This day the poor woman, consoled by her explanation with Jacob, had more colour than usual, and appeared to have recovered her health.

"I am really distressed," said Henri, seating himself at table, "and you will share my anxiety when you hear that Mann's prophecy has been realized. They have tried to arrest Jacob."

Mathilde grew very pale, and cried:--

"Arrested? Did you say arrested?"

"Why this emotion?" replied her husband smiling.

"Answer me! I beg of you!"