The Wandering Jew — Volume 01

  CHAPTER XI.

  JOVIAL and DEATH.

  Morok had led Jovial into the middle of the menagerie, and then removedthe cloth which prevented him from seeing and smelling. Scarcely had thetiger, lion, and panther caught a glimpse of him than they threwthemselves, half famished, against the bars of their dens.

  The horse struck with stupor, his neck stretched out, his eye fixed, andtrembling through all his limbs, appeared as if nailed to the ground; anabundant icy sweat rolled suddenly down his flanks. The lion and thetiger uttered fearful roarings, and struggled violently in their dens.The panther did not roar, but her mute rage was terrific.

  With a tremendous bound, at the risk of breaking her skull, she sprangfrom the back of the cage against the bars; then, still mute, stillfurious, she crawled back to the extreme corner of the den, and with anew spring, as impetuous as it was blind, she again strove to force outthe iron grating. Three times had she thus bounded--silent,appalling--when the horse, passing from the immobility of stupor to thewild agony of fear, neighed long and loud, and rushed in desperation atthe door by which he had entered. Finding it closed he hung his head,bent his knees a little, and rubbed his nostrils against the opening leftbetween the ground and the bottom of the door, as if he wished to inhalethe air from the outside; then, more and more affrighted, he began toneigh with redoubled force, and struck out violently with his fore-feet.

  At the moment when Death was about once more to make her spring, theProphet approached her cage. The heavy bolt which secured the grating waspushed from its staple by the pike of the brute-tamer, and, in anothersecond, Morok was half way up the ladder that communicated with the loft.

  The roaring of the lion and tiger, mingled with the neighing of Jovial,now resounded through all parts of the inn. The panther had again thrownherself furiously on the grating, and this time yielding with one spring,she was in the middle of the shed.

  The light of the lantern was reflected from the glossy ebon of her hide,spotted with stains of a duller black. For an instant she remainedmotionless, crouching upon her thick-set limbs, with her head close tothe floor, as if calculating the distance of the leap by which she was toreach the horse; then suddenly she darted upon him.

  On seeing her break from her cage Jovial had thrown himself violentlyagainst the door, which was made to open inwards, and leaned against itwith all his might, as though he would force it down. Then, at the momentwhen Death took her leap, he reared up in almost an erect position; butshe, rapid as lightning, had fastened upon his throat and hung there,whilst at the same time she buried the sharp claws of her fore-feet inhis chest. The jugular vein of the horse opened; a torrent of bright redblood spouted forth beneath the tooth of the panther, who, now supportingherself on her hind legs, squeezed her victim up against the door, whilstshe dug into his flank with her claws, and laid bare the palpitatingflesh. Then his half-strangled neighing became awful.

  Suddenly these words resounded: "Courage, Jovial!--I am at hand!Courage!"

  It was the voice of Dagobert, who was exhausting himself in desperateexertions to force open the door that concealed this sanguinary struggle."Jovial!" cried the soldier, "I am here. Help! Help!"

  At the sound of that friendly and well-known voice, the poor animal,almost at its last gasp, strove to turn its head in the direction whencecame the accents of his master, answered him with a plaintive neigh, and,sinking beneath the efforts of the panther, fell prostrate, first on itsknees, then upon its flank, so that its backbone lay right across thedoor, and still prevented its being opened. And now all was finished. Thepanther, squatting down upon the horse, crushed him with all her paws,and, in spite of some last faint kicks, buried her bloody snout in hisbody.

  "Help! help! my horse!" cried Dagobert, as he vainly shook the door. "Andno arms!" he added with rage; "no arms!"

  "Take care!" exclaimed the brute-tamer, who appeared at the window of theloft; "do not attempt to enter it might cost you your life. My panther isfurious."

  "But my horse! my horse!" cried Dagobert, in a voice of agony.

  "He must have strayed from his stable during the night, and pushed openthe door of the shed. At sight of him the panther must have broken out ofher cage and seized him. You are answerable for all the mischief that mayensue," added the brute-tamer, with a menacing air; "for I shall have torun the greatest danger, to make Death return to her den."

  "But my horse! only save my horse!" cried Dagobert, in a tone of hopelesssupplication.

  The Prophet disappeared from the window.

  The roaring of the animals and the shouts of Dagobert, had roused fromsleep every one in the White Falcon. Here and there lights were seenmoving and windows were thrown open hurriedly. The servants of the innsoon appeared in the yard with lanterns, and surrounding Dagobert,inquired of him what had happened.

  "My horse is there," cried the soldier, continuing to shake the door,"and one of that scoundrel's animals has escaped from its cage."

  At these words the people of the inn, already terrified by the frightfulroaring, fled from the spot and ran to inform the host. The soldier'sanguish may be conceived, as pale, breathless, with his ear close to thechink of the door, he stood listening. By degrees the roaring had ceased,and nothing was heard but low growls, accompanied by the stern voice ofthe Prophet, repeating in harsh, abrupt accents: "Death! come here!Death!"

  The night was profoundly dark, and Dagobert did not perceive Goliath,who, crawling carefully along the tiled roof entered the loft by theattic window.

  And now the gate of the court-yard was again opened, and the landlord ofthe inn appeared, followed by a number of men. Armed with a carbine, headvanced with precaution; his people carried staves and pitchforks.

  "What is the row here?" said he, as he approached Dagobert. "What ahubbub in my house! The devil take wild beast showmen, and negligentfellows who don't know how to tie a horse to the manger! If your beast ishurt, so much the worse for you; you should have taken more care of it."

  Instead of replying to these reproaches, the soldier, who still listenedattentively to what was going on in the shed, made a sign to entreatsilence. Suddenly a ferocious roar was heard, followed by a loud screamfrom the Prophet; and, almost immediately after, the panther howledpiteously.

  "You are no doubt the cause of some great accident," said the frightenedhost to the soldier; "did you not hear that cry? Morok is, perhaps,dangerously wounded."

  Dagobert was about to answer, when the door opened, and Goliath appearedon the threshold.

  "You may enter now," said he; "the danger is over."

  The interior of the menagerie presented a singular spectacle. TheProphet, pale, and scarcely able to conceal his agitation beneath anapparent air of calmness, was kneeling some paces from the cage of thepanther, in the attitude of one absorbed in himself; the motion of hislips indicating that he was praying. At sight of the host and the peopleof the inn, he rose, and said in a solemn voice: "I thank thee, myPreserver, that I have been able to conquer, by the strength which Thouhast given me."

  Then folding his arms, with haughty brow and imperious glance, he seemedto enjoy the triumph he had achieved over Death, who, stretched on thebottom of her den, continued to utter plaintive howlings. The spectatorsof this scene, ignorant that the pelisse of the brute-tamer covered acomplete suit of armor, and attributing the cries of the panther solelyto fear, were struck with astonishment and admiration at the intrepidityand almost supernatural power of this man. A few steps behind him stoodGoliath, leaning upon the ashen pikestaff. Finally, not far from thecage, in the midst of a pool of blood, lay the dead body of Jovial.

  At sight of the blood-stained and torn remains, Dagobert stoodmotionless, and his rough countenance assumed an expression of thedeepest grief: then, throwing himself on his knees, he lifted the head ofJovial; and when he saw those dull, glassy, and half-closed eyes, once sobright and intelligent, as they turned towards a much-loved master, thesoldier could not suppress an exclamation of bitter anguish. Forgetti
nghis anger, forgetting the deplorable consequences of this accident, sofatal to the interests of the two maidens, who would thus be preventedfrom continuing their journey--he thought only of the horrible death ofhis poor old horse, the ancient companion of his fatigues and wars, thefaithful animal, twice wounded like himself, and from whom for so manyyears he had never been separated. This poignant emotion was so cruelly,so affectingly visible in the soldier's countenance, that the landlordand his people felt themselves for a moment touched with pity, as theygazed on the tall veteran kneeling beside his dead horse.

  But, when following the course of his regrets, he thought how Jovial hadalso been the companion of his exile, how the mother of the orphans hadformerly (like her daughters) undertaken a toilsome journey with the aidof this unfortunate animal, the fatal consequences of his loss presentedthemselves on a sudden to his mind. Then, fury succeeding to grief, herose, with anger flashing from his eyes, and threw himself on theProphet; with one hand he seized him by the throat, and with the otheradministered five or six heavy blows, which fell harmlessly on the coatof mail.

  "Rascal! you shall answer to me for my horse's death!" said the soldier,as he continued his correction. Morok, light and sinewy, could notstruggle with advantage against Dagobert, who, aided by his tall stature,still displayed extraordinary vigor. It needed the intervention ofGoliath and the landlord to rescue the Prophet from the hands of the oldgrenadier. After some moments, they succeeded in separating the twochampions. Morok was white with rage. It needed new efforts to preventhis seizing the pike to attack Dagobert.

  "It is abominable!" cried the host, addressing the soldier, who pressedhis clinched fists in despair against his bald forehead. "You expose thisgood man to be devoured by his beasts, and then you wish to beat him intothe bargain. Is this fitting conduct for a graybeard? Shall we have tofetch the police? You showed yourself more reasonable in the early partof the evening."

  These words recalled the soldier to himself. He regretted his impetuositythe more, as the fact of his being a stranger might augment thedifficulty of his position. It was necessary above all to obtain theprice of his horse, so as to be enabled to continue his journey, thesuccess of which might be compromised by a single day's delay. With aviolent effort, therefore, he succeeded in restraining his wrath.

  "You are right--I was too hasty," said he to the host, in an agitatedvoice, which he tried to make as calm as possible. "I had not the samepatience as before. But ought not this man be responsible for the loss ofmy horse? I make you judge in the matter."

  "Well, then, as judge, I am not of your opinion. All this has been yourown fault. You tied up your horse badly, and he strayed by chance intothis shed, of which no doubt the door was half-open," said the host,evidently taking the part of the brute-tamer.

  "It was just as you say," answered Goliath. "I can remember it. I leftthe door ajar, that the beasts might have some air in the night. Thecages were well shut, and there was no danger."

  "Very true," said one of the standers-by.

  "It was only the sight of the horse," added another, "that made thepanther furious, so as to break out of its cage."

  "It is the Prophet who has the most right to complain," observed a third.

  "No matter what this or that person says," returned Dagobert, whosepatience was beginning to fail him, "I say, that I must have either moneyor a horse on the instant--yes, on the instant--for I wish to quit thisunlucky house."

  "And I say, it is you that must indemnify me," cried Morok, who had keptthis stage-trick for the last, and who now exhibited his left hand allbloody, having hitherto concealed it beneath the sleeve of his pelisse."I shall perhaps be disabled for life," he added; "see what a wound thepanther has made here!"

  Without having the serious character that the Prophet ascribed to it, thewound was a pretty deep one. This last argument gained for him thegeneral sympathy. Reckoning no doubt upon this incident, to secure thewinning of a cause that he now regarded as his own, the host said to thehostler: "There is only one way to make a finish. It is to call up theburgomaster, and beg him to step here. He will decide who is right orwrong."

  "I was just going to propose it to you," said the soldier, "for, afterall, I cannot take the law into my own hands."

  "Fritz, run to the burgomaster's!"--and the hustler started in all haste.His master, fearing to be compromised by the examination of the soldier,whose papers he had neglected to ask for on his arrival, said to him:"The burgomaster will be in a very bad humor, to be disturbed so late. Ihave no wish to suffer by it, and I must therefore beg you to go andfetch me your papers, to see if they are in rule. I ought to have madeyou show them, when you arrived here in the evening."

  "They are upstairs in my knapsack; you shall have them," answered thesoldier--and turning away his head, and putting his hand before his eyes,as he passed the dead body of Jovial, he went out to rejoin the sisters.

  The Prophet followed him with a glance of triumph, and said to himself:"There he goes!--without horse, without money, without papers. I couldnot do more--for I was forbidden to do more--I was to act with as muchcunning as possible and preserve appearances. Now every one will thinkthis soldier in the wrong. I can at least answer for it, that he will notcontinue his journey for some days--since such great interests appear todepend on his arrest, and that of the young girls."

  A quarter of an hour after this reflection of the brute-tamer, Karl,Goliath's comrade, left the hiding-place where his master had concealedhim during the evening, and set out for Leipsic, with a letter whichMorok had written in haste, and which Karl, on his arrival, was to putimmediately into the post.

  The address of this letter was as follows:

  "A Monsieur Rodin, Rue du Milieu-des-Ursins, No, 11, A Paris, France."