The Wandering Jew — Volume 01

  CHAPTER XIII.

  THE JUDGEMENT.

  The worthy burgomaster of Mockern wore a cloth cap, and was enveloped ina cloak. He sat down heavily on the bench. He was a corpulent man, aboutsixty, with an arrogant, morose countenance; and he frequently rubbedwith his red, fat fist, eyes that were still swollen and blood shot, fromhis having been suddenly roused from sleep.

  Dagobert stood bareheaded before him, with a submissive, respectful air,holding his old foraging cap in his hands, and trying to read in thesullen physiognomy of his judge what chance there might be to interesthim in his favor--that is, in favor of the orphans.

  In this critical juncture, the poor soldier summoned to his aid all hispresence of mind, reason, eloquence and resolution. He, who had twentytimes braved death with the utmost coolness--who, calm and serene,because sincere and tried, had never quailed before the eagle-glance ofthe Emperor, his hero and idol--now felt himself disconcerted andtrembling before the ill-humored face of a village burgomaster. Even so,a few hours before, he had submitted, impassive and resigned, to theinsults of the Prophet--that he might not compromise the sacred missionwith which a dying mother had entrusted him--thus showing to what aheight of heroic abnegation it is possible for a simple and honest heartto attain.

  "What have you to say in your justification? Come, be quick!" said thejudge roughly, with a yawn of impatience.

  "I have not got to justify myself--I have to make a complaint, Mr.Burgomaster," replied Dagobert in a firm voice.

  "Do you think you are to teach me in what terms I am to put myquestions?" exclaimed the magistrate, in so sharp a tone that the soldierreproached himself with having begun the interview so badly. Wishing topacify his judge, he made haste to answer with submission:

  "Pardon me, Mr. Burgomaster, I have ill-explained my meaning. I onlywished to say that I was not wrong in this affair."

  "The Prophet says the contrary."

  "The Prophet?" repeated the soldier, with an air of doubt.

  "The Prophet is a pious and honest man," resumed the judge, "incapable offalsehood."

  "I cannot say anything upon that subject; but you are too just, and havetoo good a heart, Mr. Burgomaster, to condemn without hearing me. It isnot a man like you that would do an injustice; oh, one can see that at aglance!"

  In resigning himself thus to play the part of a courtier, Dagobertsoftened as much as possible his gruff voice, and strove to give to hisaustere countenance a smiling, agreeable, and flattering expression. "Aman like you," he added, with redoubled suavity of manner, "a respectablejudge like you, never shuts his ears to one side or the other."

  "Ears are not in question, but eyes; and, though mine smart as if I hadrubbed them with nettles, I have seen the hand of the brute-tamer, with afrightful wound on it."

  "Yes, Mr. Burgomaster, it is very true; but consider, if he had shut hiscages and his door, all this would not have happened."

  "Not so; it is your fault. You should have fastened your horse securelyto the manger."

  "You are right, Mr. Burgomaster, certainly, you are right," said thesoldier, in a still more affable and conciliating voice. "It is not for apoor devil like me to contradict you. But supposing my horse was letloose out of pure malice, in order that he might stray into themenagerie--you will then acknowledge that it was not my fault. That is,you will acknowledge it if you think fit," hastily added the soldier "Ihave no right to dictate to you in anything."

  "And why the devil should any one do you this ill-turn?"

  "I do not know, Mr. Burgomaster--but--"

  "You do not know--well, nor I either," said the burgomaster impatiently."Zounds! what a many words about the carcass of an old horse!"

  The countenance of the soldier, losing on a sudden its expression offorced suavity, became once more severe; he answered in a grave voice,full of emotion: "My horse is dead--he is no more than a carcass--that istrue; but an hour ago, though very old, he was full of life andintelligence. He neighed joyously at my voice--and, every evening, helicked the hands of the two poor children, whom he had carried all theday--as formerly he had carried their mother. Now he will never carry anyone again; they will throw him to the dogs, and all will be finished. Youneed not have reminded me harshly of it, Mr. Burgomaster--for I loved myhorse!"

  By these words, pronounced with noble and touching simplicity, theburgomaster was moved in spite of himself, and regretted his hastyspeech. "It is natural that you should be sorry for your horse," said he,in a less impatient tone; "but what is to be done?--It is a misfortune."

  "A misfortune?--Yes, Mr. Burgomaster, a very great misfortune. The girls,who accompany me, were too weak to undertake a long journey on foot, toopoor to travel in a carriage--and yet we have to arrive in Paris beforethe month of February. When their mother died, I promised her to takethem to France, for these children have only me to take care of them."

  "You are then their--"

  "I am their faithful servant, Mr. Burgomaster; and now that my horse hasbeen killed, what can I do for them? Come, you are good, you have perhapschildren of your own; if, one day, they should find themselves in theposition of my two little orphans--with no wealth, no resources in theworld, but an old soldier who loves them, and an old horse to carry themalong--if, after being very unfortunate from their birth--yes, veryunfortunate, for my orphans are the daughters of exiles--they should seehappiness before them at the end of a journey, and then, by the death oftheir horse, that journey become impossible--tell me, Mr. Burgomaster, ifthis would not touch your heart? Would you not find, as I do, that theloss of my horse is irreparable?"

  "Certainly," answered the burgomaster, who was not ill natured at bottom,and who could not help taking part in Dagobert's emotion; "I nowunderstand the importance of the loss you have suffered. And then yourorphans interest me: how old are they?"

  "Fifteen years and two months. They are twins."

  "Fifteen years and two months--that is about the age of my Frederica."

  "You have a young lady of that age?" cried Dagobert, once more awaking tohope; "ah, Mr. Burgomaster! I am really no longer uneasy about my poorchildren. You will do us justice."

  "To do justice is my duty. After all, in this affair, the faults areabout equal on both sides. You tied up your horse badly, and the brutetamer left his door open. He says: 'I am wounded in the hand.' Youanswer: 'My horse has been killed--and, for a thousand reasons, the lossof my horse is irreparable.'"

  "You make me speak better than I could ever speak on my own account, Mr.Burgomaster," said the soldier, with a humble, insinuating smile; "but'tis what I meant to express--and, as you say yourself, Mr. Burgomaster,my horse being my whole fortune, it is only fair--"

  "Exactly so," resumed the magistrate, interrupting the soldier; "yourreasons are excellent. The Prophet--who is a good and pious man with allhas related the facts to me in his own way; and then, you see, he is anold acquaintance. We are nearly all zealous Catholics here, and he sellsto our wives such cheap and edifying little books, with chaplets andamulets of the best manufacture, at less than the prime cost. All this,you will say, has nothing to do with the affair; and you will be right insaying so: still I must needs confess that I came here with theintention--"

  "Of deciding against me, eh, Mr. Burgomaster?" said Dagobert, gainingmore and more confidence. "You see, you were not quite awake, and yourjustice had only one eye open."

  "Really, master soldier," answered the judge with good humor, "it is notunlikely; for I did not conceal from Morok that I gave it in his favor.Then he said to me (very generously, by the way): 'Since you condemn myadversary, I will not aggravate his position by telling you certainthings--'"

  "What! against me?"

  "Apparently so; but, like a generous enemy, when I told him that I shouldmost likely condemn you to pay him damages, he said no more about it. ForI will not hide from you, that, before I heard your reasons, I fullyintended that you should make compensation for the Prophet's wound."

  "See, Mr. Burgomaster, how
the most just and able persons are subject tobe deceived," said Dagobert, becoming once more the courtier; then,trying to assume a prodigiously knowing look, he added: "But such personsfind out the truth at last, and are not to be made dupes of, whateverprophets may say."

  This poor attempt at a jest--the first and only one, perhaps, thatDagobert had ever been guilty of--will show the extremity to which he wasreduced, and the desperate efforts of all kinds he was making toconciliate the good graces of his judge. The burgomaster did not at firstsee the pleasantry; he was only led to perceive it by the self satisfiedmien of Dagobert, and by his inquiring glance, which seemed to say: "Isit not good, eh?--I am astonished at it myself."

  The magistrate began, therefore, to smile with a patronizing air, and,nodding his head, replied in the same jocular spirit: "Ha! Ha! Ha! Youare right; the Prophet is out in his prophecy. You shall not pay him anydamages. The faults on both sides are equal, and the injuries balance oneanother. He has been wounded, your horse has been killed; so you may cryquits, and have done with it."

  "But how much then, do you think he owes me?" asked the soldier, withsingular simplicity.

  "How much?"

  "Yes, Mr. Burgomaster, what sum will he have to pay me? Yes--but, beforeyou decide, I must tell you one thing, Mr. Burgomaster. I think I shallbe entitled to spend only part of the money in buying a horse. I am sure,that, in the environs of Leipsic, I could get a beast very cheap fromsome of the peasants; and, between ourselves, I will own to you, that, ifI could meet with only a nice little donkey--I should not be overparticular--I should even like it just as well; for, after my poorJovial, the company of another horse would be painful to me. I must alsotell you--"

  "Hey-day!" cried the burgomaster, interrupting Dagobert, "of what money,what donkey, and what other horse are you talking? I tell you, that youowe nothing to the Prophet, and that he owes you nothing!"

  "He owes me nothing?"

  "You are very dull of comprehension, my good man. I repeat, that, if theProphet's animals have killed your horse, the Prophet himself has beenbadly wounded; so you may cry quits. In other words, you owe him nothing,and he owes you nothing. Now do you understand?"

  Dagobert, confounded, remained for some moments without answering, whilsthe looked at the burgomaster with an expression of deep anguish. He sawthat his judgment would again destroy all his hopes.

  "But, Mr. Burgomaster," resumed he, in an agitated voice, "you are toojust not to pay attention to one thing: the wound of the brute-tamer doesnot prevent him from continuing his trade; the death of my horse preventsme from continuing my journey; therefore, he ought to indemnify me."

  The judge considered he had already done a good deal for Dagobert, in notmaking him responsible for the wound of the Prophet, who, as we havealready said, exercised a certain influence over the Catholics of thecountry by the sale of his devotional treasures, and also from its beingknown that he was supported by some persons of eminence. The soldier'spertinacity, therefore, offended the magistrate, who, reassuming hislofty air, replied, in a chilling tone: "You will make me repent myimpartiality. How is this? Instead of thanking me, you ask for more."

  "But, Mr. Burgomaster, I ask only for what is just. I wish I were woundedin the hand, like the Prophet, so that I could but continue my journey."

  "We are not talking of what you wish. I have pronounced sentence--thereis no more to say."

  "But, Mr. Burgomaster--"

  "Enough, enough. Let us go to the next subject. Your papers?"

  "Yes, we will speak about my papers; but I beg of you, Mr. Burgomaster,to have pity on those two children. Let us have the means to continue ourjourney, and--"

  "I have done all I could for you--perhaps, more than I ought. Once again,your papers!"

  "I must first explain to you--"

  "No! No explanation--your papers!--Or would you like me to have youarrested as a vagabond?"

  "Me---arrested!"

  "I tell you that, if you refuse to show me your papers, it will be as ifyou had none. Now, those people who have no papers we take into custodytill the authorities can dispose of them. Let me see your papers, andmake haste!--I am in a hurry to get home."

  Dagobert's position was the more distressing, as for a moment he hadindulged in sanguine hope. The last blow was now added to all the veteranhad suffered since the commencement of this scene, which was a cruel aswell as dangerous trial, for a man of his character--upright, butobstinate--faithful, but rough and absolute--a man who, for a long time asoldier, and a victorious one, had acquired a certain despotic mariner oftreating with civilians.

  At these words--"your papers," Dagobert became very pale; but he tried toconceal his anguish beneath an air of assurance, which he thought bestcalculated to gain the magistrate's good opinion. "I will tell you allabout it, Mr. Burgomaster," said he. "Nothing can be clearer. Such athing might happen to any one. I do not look like a beggar and avagabond, do I? And yet--you will understand, that an honest man whotravels with two young girls--"

  "No more words! Your papers!"

  At this juncture two powerful auxiliaries arrived to the soldier's aid.The orphans, growing more and more uneasy, and hearing Dagobert stilltalking upon the landing-place, had risen and dressed themselves; so thatjust at the instant, when the magistrate said in a rough voice--"No morewords! Your papers!"--Rose and Blanche holding each other by the hand,came forth from the chamber.

  At sight of those charming faces, which their poor mourning vestmentsonly rendered more interesting, the burgomaster rose from his seat,struck with surprise and admiration. By a spontaneous movement, eachsister took a hand of Dagobert, and pressed close to him, whilst theyregarded the magistrate with looks of mingled anxiety and candor.

  It was so touching a picture, this of the old soldier presenting as itwere to his judge the graceful children, with countenances full ofinnocence and beauty, that the burgomaster, by a sudden reaction, foundhimself once more disposed to sentiments of pity. Dagobert perceived it;and, still holding the orphans by the hand, he advanced towards him, andsaid in a feeling voice: "Look at these poor children, Mr. Burgomaster!Could I show you a better passport?" And, overcome by so many painfulsensations--restrained, yet following each other in quicksuccession--Dagobert felt, in spite of himself, that the tears werestarting to his eyes.

  Though naturally rough, and rendered still more testy by the interruptionof his sleep, the burgomaster was not quite deficient in sense offeeling. He perceived at once, that a man thus accompanied, ought not toinspire any great distrust. "Poor dear children!" said he, as he examinedthem with growing interest; "orphans so young, and they come from far--"

  "From the heart of Siberia, Mr. Burgomaster, where their mother was anexile before their birth. It is now more than five months that we havebeen travelling on by short stages--hard enough, you will say, forchildren of their age. It is for them that I ask your favor and supportfor them against whom everything seems to combine to-day for, only justnow, when I went to look for my papers, I could not find in my knapsackthe portfolio in which they were, along with my purse and cross--for youmust know, Mr. Burgomaster--pardon me, if I say it--'tis not from vainglory--but I was decorated by the hand of the Emperor; and a man whom hedecorated with his own hand, you see, could not be so bad a fellow,though he may have had the misfortune to lose his papers--and his purse.That's what has happened to me, and made me so pressing about thedamages."

  "How and where did you suffer this loss?"

  "I do not know, Mr. Burgomaster; I am sure that the evening before last,at bed-time, I took a little money out of the purse, and saw theportfolio in its place; yesterday I had small change sufficient, and didnot undo the knapsack."

  "And where then has the knapsack been kept?"

  "In the room occupied by the children: but this night--"

  Dagobert was here interrupted by the tread of some one mounting thestairs: it was the Prophet. Concealed in the shadow of the staircase, hehad listened to this conversation, and he dreaded lest
the weakness ofthe burgomaster should mar the complete success of his projects.