The Wandering Jew Part 146

"Great G.o.d!" cried the young girl, clasping her hands in horror. "It is fearful. That young prince, who was said to have so n.o.ble and generous a character! But I had sent to Cardoville Castle--"

"A confidential person, to fetch the prince to Paris--I know it, my dear young lady; but, by means of a trick, your friend was got out of the way, and the young Oriental delivered to his enemies."

"And where is he now?"

"I have only vague information on the subject. I know that he is in Paris, and do not despair of finding him. I shall pursue my researches with an almost paternal ardor, for we cannot too much love the rare qualities of that poor king's son. What a heart, my dear young lady!

what a heart! Oh, it is a heart of gold, pure and bright as the gold of his country!"

"We must find the prince, sir," said Adrienne with emotion; "let me entreat you to neglect nothing for that end. He is my relation--alone here--without support--without a.s.sistance."

"Certainly," replied Rodin, with commiseration. "Poor boy!--for he is almost a boy--eighteen or nineteen years of age--thrown into the heart of Paris, of this h.e.l.l--with his fresh, ardent, half-savage pa.s.sions--with his simplicity and confidence--to what perils may he not be exposed?"

"Well, we must first find him, sir," said Adrienne, hastily; "and then we will save him from these dangers. Before I was confined here, I learned his arrival in France, and sent a confidential person to offer him the services of an unknown friend. I now see that this mad idea, with which I have been so much reproached, was a very sensible one. I am more convinced of it than ever. The prince belongs to my family, and I owe him a generous hospitality. I had destined for him the lodge I occupied at my aunt's."

"And you, my dear young lady?"

"To-day, I shall remove to a house, which I had prepared some time ago, with the determination of quitting Madame de Saint-Dizier, and living alone as I pleased. Then, sir, as you seem bent upon being the good genius of our family, be as generous with regard to Prince Djalma, as you have been to me and Marshal Simon's daughters. I entreat you to discover the hiding-place of this poor king's son, as you call him; keep my secret for me, and conduct him to the house offered by the unknown friend. Let him not disquiet himself about anything; all his wants shall be provided for; he shall live--like a prince."

"Yes; he will indeed live like a prince, thanks to your royal munificence. But never was such kind interest better deserved. It is enough to see (as I have seen) his fine, melancholy countenance--"

"You have seen him, then, sir?" said Adrienne, interrupting Rodin.

"Yes, my dear young lady; I was with him for about two hours. It was quite enough to judge of him. His charming features are the mirror of his soul."

"And where did you see him, sir?"

"At your old Chateau de Cardoville, my dear young lady, near which he had been shipwrecked in a storm, and whither I had gone to--" Rodin hesitated for a moment, and then, as if yielding to the frankness of his disposition, added: "Whither I had gone to commit a bad action--a shameful, miserable action, I must confess!"

"You, sir?--at Cardoville House--to commit a bad action?" cried Adrienne, much surprised.

"Alas! yes, my dear young lady," answered Rodin with simplicity. "In one word, I had orders from Abbe d'Aigrigny, to place your former bailiff in the alternative either of losing his situation or lending himself to a mean action--something, in fact, that resembled spying and calumny; but the honest, worthy man refused."

"Why, who are you, sir?" said Mdlle. de Cardoville, more and more astonished.

"I am Rodin, lately secretary of the Abbe d'Aigrigny--a person of very little importance, as you see."

It is impossible to describe the accent, at once humble and ingenuous, of the Jesuit, as he p.r.o.nounced these words, which he accompanied with a respectful bow. On this revelation, Mdlle. de Cardoville drew back abruptly. We have said that Adrienne had sometimes heard talk of Rodin, the humble secretary of the Abbe d'Aigrigny, as a sort of obedient and pa.s.sive machine. That was not all; the bailiff of Cardoville Manor, writing to Adrienne on the subject of Prince Djalma, had complained of the perfidious and dishonest propositions of Rodin. She felt, therefore, a vague suspicion, when she heard that her liberator was the man who had played so odious a part. Yet this unfavorable feeling was balanced by the sense of what she owed to Rodin, and by his frank denunciation of Abbe d'Aigrigny before the magistrate. And then the Jesuit, by his own confession, had antic.i.p.ated, as it were, the reproaches that might have been addressed to him. Still, it was with a kind of cold reserve that Mdlle. de Cardoville resumed this dialogue, which she had commenced with as much frankness as warmth and sympathy.

Rodin perceived the impression he had made. He expected it. He was not the least disconcerted when Mdlle. de Cardoville said to him, as she fixed upon him a piercing glance, "Ah! you are M. Rodin--secretary to the Abbe d'Aigrigny?"

"Say ex-secretary, if you please, my dear young lady," answered the Jesuit; "for you see clearly that I can never again enter the house of the Abbe d'Aigrigny. I have made of him an implacable enemy, and I am now without employment--but no matter--nay, so much the better--since, at this price, the wicked are unmasked, and honest people rescued."

These words, spoken with much simplicity, and dignity, revived a feeling of pity in Adrienne's heart. She thought within herself that, after all, the poor old man spoke the truth. Abbe d'Aigrigny's hate, after this exposure, would be inexorable, and Rodin had braved it for the sake of a generous action.

Still Mdlle. de Cardoville answered coldly, "Since you knew, sir, that the propositions you were charged to make to the bailiff of Cardoville were shameful and perfidious, how could you undertake the mission?"

"How?" replied Rodin, with a sort of painful impatience; "why, because I was completely under Abbe d'Aigrigny's charm, one of the most prodigiously clever men I have ever known, and, as I only discovered the day before yesterday, one of the most prodigiously dangerous men there is in the world. He had conquered my scruples, by persuading me that the End justifies the Means. I must confess that the end he seemed to propose to himself was great and beautiful; but the day before yesterday I was cruelly undeceived. I was awakened, as it were, by a thunder-peal.

Oh, my dear young lady!" added Rodin, with a sort of embarra.s.sment and confusion, "let us talk no more of my fatal journey to Cardoville.

Though I was only an ignorant and blind instrument, I feel as ashamed and grieved at it as if I had acted for myself. It weighs upon me, it oppresses me. I entreat you, let us speak rather of yourself, and of what interests you--for the soul expands with generous thoughts, even as the breast is dilated in pure and healthful air."

Rodin had confessed his fault so spontaneously, he explained it so naturally, he appeared to regret it so sincerely, that Adrienne, whose suspicions had no other grounds, felt her distrust a good deal diminished.

"So," she resumed, still looking attentively at Rodin, "it was at Cardoville that you saw Prince Djalma?"

"Yes, madame; and my affection for him dates from that interview.

Therefore I will accomplish my task. Be satisfied, my dear young lady; like you, like Marshal Simon's daughters, the prince shall avoid being the victim of this detestable plot, which unhappily does not stop there."

"And who besides, then, is threatened?"

"M. Hardy, a man full of honor and probity, who is also your relation, and interested in this inheritance, but kept away from Paris by infamous treachery. And another heir, an unfortunate artisan, who falling into a trap cleverly baited, has been thrown into a prison for debt."

"But, sir," said Adrienne, suddenly, "for whose advantage was this abominable plot, which really alarms me, first devised?"

"For the advantage of Abbe d'Aigrigny," answered Rodin.

"How, and by what right! Was he also an heir?"

"It would take too long to explain it to you, my dear young lady. You will know all one day. Only be convinced that your family has no more bitter enemy that Abbe d'Aigrigny."

"Sir," said Adrienne, giving way to one last suspicion, "I will speak frankly to you. How can I have deserved the interest that you seem to take in me, and that you even extend to all the members of my family?"

"My dear young lady," answered Rodin, with a smile, "were I to tell you the cause, you would only laugh at, or misapprehend me."

"Speak, I beg of you, sir. Do not mistrust me or yourself."

"Well, then, I became interested in you--devoted to you--because your heart is generous, your mind lofty, your character independent and proud. Once attached to you, those of your race, who are indeed themselves worthy of interest, were no longer indifferent to me. To serve them was to serve you also."

"But, sir--admitting that you suppose me worthy of the too flattering praises you bestow upon me--how could you judge of my heart, my mind, my character?"

"I will tell you, my dear young lady; but first I must make another confession, that fills me with shame. If you were not even so wonderfully endowed, what you have suffered in this house should suffice to command the interest of every honest man--don't you think so?"

"I do think it should, sir."

"I might thus explain the interest I feel in you. But no--I confess it--that would not have sufficed with me. Had you been only Mdlle. de Cardoville--a rich, n.o.ble, beautiful young lady--I should doubtless have pitied your misfortune; but I should have said to myself, 'This poor young lady is certainly much to be pitied; but what can I, poor man, do in it? My only resource is my post of secretary to the Abbe d'Aigrigny, and he would be the first that must be attacked. He is all-powerful, and I am nothing. To engage in a struggle with him would be to ruin myself, without the hope of saving this unfortunate person.' But when I learnt what you were, my dear young lady, I revolted, in spite of my inferiority. 'No,' I said, 'a thousand times, no! So fine an intellect, so great a heart, shall not be the victims of an abominable plot. I may perish in the struggle, but I will at least make the attempt.'"

No words can paint the mixture of delicacy, energy, and sensibility with which Rodin uttered these sentiments. As it often happens with people singularly repulsive and ill-favored, if they can once bring you to forget their ugliness, their very deformity becomes a source of interest and commiseration, and you say to yourself, "What a pity that such a mind, such a soul, should inhabit so poor a body!"--and you are touched and softened by the contrast.

It was thus that Mdlle. de Cardoville began to look upon Rodin. He had shown himself as simple and affectionate towards her as he had been brutal and insolent to Dr. Baleinier. One thing only excited the lively curiosity of Mdlle. de Cardoville--she wished to know how Rodin had conceived the devotion and admiration which she seemed to inspire.

"Forgive my indiscreet and obstinate curiosity, sir, but I wish to know--"

"How you were morally revealed to me--is it not so? Oh, my dear young lady! nothing is more simple. I will explain it to you in two words.

The Abbe d'Aigrigny saw in me nothing but a writing-machine, an obtuse, mute, blind instrument--"

"I thought M. d'Aigrigny had more penetration."

"And you are right, my dear young lady; he is a man of unparalleled sagacity; but I deceived him by affecting more than simplicity. Do not, therefore, think me false. No; I am proud in my manner--and my pride consists in never appearing above my position, however subaltern it may be! Do you know why? It is that, however haughty may be my superiors, I can say to myself, 'They do not know my value. It is the inferiority of my condition, not me, that they humiliate.' By this I gain doubly--my self-love is spared, and I hate no one."

"Yes, I understand that sort of pride," said Adrienne, more and more struck with Rodin's original turn of mind.