CHAPTER XXXVIII. THE TWO CARRIAGES.
It is the evening of the day on which Mdlle. de Cardoville prevented thesewing-girl's suicide. It strikes eleven; the night is dark; thewind blows with violence, and drives along great black clouds, whichcompletely hide the pale lustre of the moon. A hackney-coach, drawn bytwo broken-winded horses, ascends slowly and with difficulty the slopeof the Rue Blanche, which is pretty steep near the barrier, in the partwhere is situated the house occupied by Djalma.
The coach stops. The coachman, cursing the length of an interminabledrive "within the circuit," leading at last to this difficult ascent,turns round on his box, leans over towards the front window of thevehicle, and says in a gruff tone to the person he is driving: "Come!are we almost there? From the Rue de Vaugirard to the Barriere Blanche,is a pretty good stretch, I think, without reckoning that the nightis so dark, that one can hardly see two steps before one--and thestreet-lamps not lighted because of the moon, which doesn't shine, afterall!"
"Look out for a little door with a portico-drive on about twenty yardsbeyond--and then stop close to the wall," answered a squeaking voice,impatiently, and with an Italian accent.
"Here is a beggarly Dutchman, that will make me as savage as a bear?"muttered the angry Jehu to himself. Then he added: "Thousand thunders!I tell you that I can't see. How the devil can I find out your littledoor?"
"Have you no sense? Follow the wall to the right, brush against it, andyou will easily find the little door. It is next to No. 50. If you donot find it, you must be drunk," answered the Italian, with increasedbitterness.
The coachman only replied by swearing like a trooper, and whipping uphis jaded horses. Then, keeping close to the wall, he strained his eyesin trying to read the numbers of the houses, by the aid of his carriagelamps.
After some moments, the coach again stopped. "I have passed No. 50, andhere is a little door with a portico," said the coachman. "Is that theone?"
"Yes," said the voice. "Now go forward some twenty yards, and thenstop."
"Well! I never--"
"Then get down from your box, and give twice three knocks at the littledoor we have just passed--you understand me?--twice three knocks."
"Is that all you give me to drink?" cried the exasperated coachman.
"When you have taken me back to the Faubourg Saint-Germain, where Ilive, you shall have something handsome, if you do but manage matterswell."
"Ha! now the Faubourg Saint-Germain! Only that little bit of distance!"said the driver, with repressed rage. "And I who have winded my horses,wanted to be on the boulevard by the time the play was out. Well,I'm blowed!" Then, putting a good face on his bad luck, and consolinghimself with the thought of the promised drink-money, he resumed: "I amto give twice three knocks at the little door?"
"Yes; three knocks first--then pause--then three other knocks. Do youunderstand?"
"What next?"
"Tell the person who comes, that he is waited for, and bring him here tothe coach."
"The devil burn you!" said the coachman to himself, as he turned roundon the box, and whipped up his horses, adding: "this crusty old Dutchmanhas something to do with Free-masons, or, perhaps, smugglers, seeing weare so near the gates. He deserves my giving him in charge, for bringingme all the way from the Rue de Vaugirard."
At twenty steps beyond the little door, the coach again stopped, and thecoachman descended from the box to execute the orders he had received.Going to the little door, he knocked three times; then paused, as he hadbeen desired, and then knocked three times more. The clouds, which hadhitherto been so thick as entirely to conceal the disk of the moon, justthen withdrew sufficiently to afford a glimmering light, so that whenthe door opened at the signal, the coachman saw a middle-sized personissue from it, wrapped in a cloak, and wearing a colored cap.
This man carefully locked the door, and then advanced two steps into thestreet. "They are waiting for you," said the coachman; "I am to take youalong with me to the coach."
Preceding the man with the cloak, who only answered him by a nod, he ledhim to the coach-door, which he was about to open, and to let down thestep, when the voice exclaimed from the inside: "It is not necessary.The gentleman may talk to me through the window. I will call you when itis time to start."
"Which means that I shall be kept here long enough to send you to allthe devils!" murmured the driver. "However, I may as well walk about,just to stretch my legs."
So saying, he began to walk up and down, by the side of the wall inwhich was the little door. Presently he heard the distant sound ofwheels, which soon came nearer and nearer, and a carriage, rapidlyascending the slope, stopped on the other side of the littlegarden-door.
"Come, I say! a private carriage!" said the coachman. "Good horsesthose, to come up the Rue Blanche at a trot."
The coachman was just making this observation, when, by favor of amomentary gleam of light, he saw a man step from the carriage, advancerapidly to the little door, open it, and go in, closing it after him.
"It gets thicker and thicker!" said the coachman. "One comes out, andthe other goes in."
So saying, he walked up to the carriage. It was splendidly harnessed,and drawn by two handsome and vigorous horses. The driver satmotionless, in his great box-coat, with the handle of his whip restingon his right knee.
"Here's weather to drive about in, with such tidy dukes as yours,comrade!" said the humble hackney-coachman to this automaton, whoremained mute and impassible, without even appearing to know that he wasspoken to.
"He doesn't understand French--he's an Englishman. One could tell thatby his horses," said the coachman, putting this interpretation on thesilence of his brother whip. Then, perceiving a tall footman at a littledistance, dressed in a long gray livery coat, with blue collar andsilver buttons, the coachman addressed himself to him, by way ofcompensation, but without much varying his phrase: "Here's nice weatherto stand about in, comrade!" On the part of the footman, he was met withthe same imperturbable silence.
"They're both Englishmen," resumed the coachman, philosophically;and, though somewhat astonished at the incident of the little door, herecommenced his walk in the direction of his own vehicle.
While these facts were passing, the man in the cloak, and the man withthe Italian accent continued their conversation, the one still in thecoach, and the other leaning with his hand on the door. It had alreadylasted for some time, and was carried on in Italian. They were evidentlytalking of some absent person, as will appear from the following.
"So," said the voice from the coach, "that is agreed to?"
"Yes, my lord," answered the man in the cloak; "but only in case theeagle should become a serpent."
"And, in the contrary event, you will receive the other half of theivory crucifix I gave you."
"I shall know what it means, my lord."
"Continue to merit and preserve his confidence."
"I will merit and preserve it, my lord, because I admire and respectthis man, who is stronger than the strongest, by craft, and courage, andwill. I have knelt before him with humility, as I would kneel before oneof the three black idols that stand between Bowanee and her worshippers;for his religion, like mine, teaches to change life into nothingness."
"Humph!" said the voice, in a tone of some embarrassment; "thesecomparisons are useless and inaccurate. Only think of obeying him,without explaining your obedience."
"Let him speak, and I perform his will! I am in his hands like a corpse,as he himself expresses it. He has seen, he sees every day, my devotionto his interests with regard to Prince Djalma. He has only to say: 'Killhim!'and this son of a king--"
"For heaven's salve, do not have such ideas!" cried the voice,interrupting the man in the cloak. "Thank heaven, you will never beasked for such proofs of your submission."
"What I am ordered I do. Bowanee sees me."
"I do not doubt your zeal. I know that you are a loving and intelligentbarrier, placed between the prince and many guilty interests; and it i
sbecause I have heard of that zeal, of your skill in circumventing thisyoung Indian, and, above all, of the motives of your blind devotion,that I have wished to inform you of everything. You are the fanaticalworshipper of him you serve. That is well; man should be the obedientslave of the god he chooses for himself."
"Yes, my lord; so long as the god remains a god."
"We understand each other perfectly. As for your recompense, you knowwhat I have promised."
"My lord, I have my reward already."
"How so?"
"I know what I know."
"Very well. Then as for secrecy--"
"You have securities, my lord."
"Yes--and sufficient ones."
"The interest of the cause I serve, my lord, would alone be enough tosecure my zeal and discretion."
"True; you are a man of firm and ardent convictions."
"I strive to be so, my lord."
"And, after all, a very religious man in your way. It is verypraiseworthy, in these irreligious times, to have any views at all onsuch matters--particularly when those views will just enable me to countupon your aid."
"You may count upon it, my lord, for the same reason that the intrepidhunter prefers a jackal to ten foxes, a tiger to ten jackals, a lion toten tigers, and the welmiss to ten lions."
"What is the welmiss?"
"It is what spirit is to matter, the blade to the scabbard, the perfumeto the flower, the head to the body."
"I understand. There never was a more just comparison. You are a man ofsound judgment. Always recollect what you have just told me, and makeyourself more and more worthy of the confidence of--your idol."
"Will he soon be in a state to hear me, my lord?"
"In two or three days, at most. Yesterday a providential crisis savedhis life; and he is endowed with so energetic a will, that his cure willbe very rapid."
"Shall you see him again to-morrow, my lord?"
"Yes, before my departure, to bid him farewell."
"Then tell him a strange circumstance, of which I have not been able toinform him, but which happened yesterday."
"What was it?"
"I had gone to the garden of the dead. I saw funerals everywhere, andlighted torches, in the midst of the black night, shining upon tombs.Bowanee smiled in her ebon sky. As I thought of that divinity ofdestruction, I beheld with joy the dead-cart emptied of its coffins.The immense pit yawned like the mouth of hell; corpses were heapedupon corpses, and still it yawned the same. Suddenly, by the light of atorch, I saw an old man beside me. He wept. I had seen him before. He isa Jew--the keeper of the house in the Rue Saint-Francois--you know whatI mean." Here the man in the cloak started.
"Yes, I know; but what is the matter? why do you stop short?"
"Because in that house there has been for a hundred and fifty years theportrait of a man whom I once met in the centre of India, on the banksof the Ganges." And the man in the cloak again paused and shuddered.
"A singular resemblance, no doubt."
"Yes, my lord, a singular resemblance--nothing more."
"But the Jew--the old Jew?"
"I am coming to that, my lord. Still weeping, he said to a gravedigger,'Well! and the coffin?' 'You were right,' answered the man; 'I found itin the second row of the other grave. It had the figure of a cross onit, formed by seven black nails. But how could you know the place andthe mark?' 'Alas! it is no matter,' replied the old Jew, with bittermelancholy. 'You see that I was but too well informed on the subject.But where is the coffin?' 'Behind the great tomb of black marble; I havehidden it there. So make haste; for, in the confusion, nothing will benoticed. You have paid me well, and I wish you to succeed in what yourequire.'"
"And what did the old Jew do with the coffin marked with the seven blacknails?"
"Two men accompanied him, my lord, bearing a covered litter, withcurtains drawn round it. He lighted a lantern, and, followed by thesetwo men, went towards the place pointed out by the gravedigger. Astoppage, occasioned by the dead-carts, made me lose sight of the oldJew, whom I was following amongst the tombs. Afterwards I was unable tofind him."
"It is indeed a strange affair. What could this old Jew want with thecoffin?"
"It is said, my lord, that they use dead bodies in preparing their magiccharms."
"Those unbelievers are capable of anything--even of holdingcommunication with the Enemy of mankind. However, we will look afterthis: the discovery may be of importance."
At this instant a clock struck twelve in the distance.
"Midnight! already?"
"Yes, my lord."
"I must be gone. Good-bye--but for the last time swear to me that,should matters so turn out, as soon as you receive the other half of theivory crucifix I have just given you, you will keep your promise."
"I have sworn it by Bowanee, my lord."
"Don't forget that, to make all sure, the person who will deliver to youthe other half of the crucifix is to say--come, what is he to say?"
"He is to say, my lord: 'There is many a slip 'twixt the cup and thelip.'"
"Very well. Adieu! secrecy and fidelity!"
"Secrecy and fidelity, my lord," answered the man in the cloak.
Some seconds after the hackney-coach started, carrying with it CardinalMalipieri, one of the speakers in the above dialogue. The other, whomthe reader has no doubt recognized as Faringhea, returned to the littlegarden-door of the house occupied by Djalma. At the moment hewas putting the key into the lock, the door opened, to his greatastonishment, and a man came forth. Faringhea rushed upon the unknown,seized him violently by the collar, and exclaimed: "Who are you? whencecame you?"
The stranger evidently found the tone of this question anything butsatisfactory; for, instead of answering, he struggled to disengagehimself from Faringhea's hold, and cried out, in a loud voice: "Help!Peter!"
Instantly the carriage, which had been standing a few yards off, dashedup at full speed, and Peter, the tall footman, seizing the half-breed bythe shoulders, flung him back several paces, and thus made a seasonablediversion in favor of the unknown.
"Now, sir," said the latter to Faringhea, shaking himself, and stillprotected by the gigantic footman, "I am in a state to answer yourquestions, though you certainly have a very rough way of receiving anold acquaintance. I am Dupont, ex-bailiff of the estate of Cardoville,and it was I who helped to fish you out of the water, when the ship waswrecked in which you had embarked."
By the light of the carriage-lamps, indeed, the half-casterecognized the good, honest face of Dupont, formerly bailiff, and nowhouse-steward, to Mdlle. de Cardoville. It must not be forgotten thatDupont had been the first to write to Mdlle. de Cardoville, to ask herto interest herself for Djalma, who was then detained at CardovilleCastle by the injuries he had received during the shipwreck.
"But, sir, what is your business here? Why do you introduce yourselfclandestinely into this house?" said Faringhea, in an abrupt andsuspicious tone.
"I will--just observe to you that there is nothing clandestine in thematter. I came here in a carriage, with servants in the livery of myexcellent mistress, Mdlle. de Cardoville, charged by her, without anydisguise or mystery, to deliver a letter to Prince Djalma, her cousin,"replied Dupont, with dignity.
On these words, Faringhea trembled with mute rage, as he answered: "Andwhy, sir, come at this late hour, and introduce yourself by this littledoor?"
"I came at this hour, my dear sir, because such was Mdlle. deCardoville's command, and I entered by this little gate because there isevery reason to believe that if I had gone around to the other I shouldnot have been permitted to see the prince."
"You are mistaken, sir," replied the half-caste.
"It is possible: but as we knew that the prince usually passed a goodportion of the night in the little saloon, which communicates with thegreenhouse, and as Mdlle. de Cardoville had kept a duplicate key of thisdoor, I was pretty certain, by taking this course, to be able to deliverinto the prince's own hands the letter from Mdlle.
de Cardoville, hiscousin, which I have now had the honor of doing, my dear sir; and I havebeen deeply touched by the kindness with which the prince deigned toreceive me and to remember our last interview."
"And who kept you so well informed, sir, of the prince's habits?" saidFaringhea, unable to control his vexation.
"If I have been well informed as to his habits, my dear sir, I have hadno such correct knowledge of yours," answered Dupont, with a mockingair; "for I assure you that I had no more notion of seeing you than youhad of seeing me."
So saying, M. Dupont bowed with something like mock politeness to thehalf-caste, and got into the carriage, which drove off rapidly, leavingFaringhea in a state of the utmost surprise and anger.