Le Juif errant. English

  CHAPTER XLVII. THE GOLDEN CITY.

  While Marshal Simon was crossing the little court with so agitatedan air, reading the anonymous letter, which he had received bySpoil-sport's unexpected medium, Rose and Blanche were alone together,in the sitting room they usually occupied, which had been entered for amoment by Loony during their absence. The poor children seemed destinedto a succession of sorrows. At the moment their mourning for theirmother drew near its close, the tragical death of their grandfather hadagain dressed them in funereal weeds. They were seated together upon acouch, in front of their work-table. Grief often produces the effect ofyears. Hence, in a few months, Rose and Blanche had become quite youngwomen. To the infantine grace of their charming faces, formerly so plumpand rosy, but now pale and thin, had succeeded an expression of graveand touching sadness. Their large, mild eyes of limpid azure, whichalways had a dreamy character, were now never bathed in those joyoustears, with which a burst of frank and hearty laughter used of old toadorn their silky lashes, when the comic coolness of Dagobert, or somefunny trick of Spoil-sport, cheered them in the course of their long andweary pilgrimage.

  In a word, those delightful faces, which the flowery pencil of Greuzecould alone have painted in all their velvet freshness, were now worthyof inspiring the melancholy ideal of the immortal Ary Scheffer, who gaveus Mignon aspiring to Paradise, and Margaret dreaming of Faust. Rose,leaning back on the couch, held her head somewhat bowed upon herbosom, over which was crossed a handkerchief of black crape. The lightstreaming from a window opposite, shone softly on her pure, whiteforehead, crowned by two thick bands of chestnut hair. Her look wasfixed, and the open arch of her eyebrows, now somewhat contracted,announced a mind occupied with painful thoughts. Her thin, white littlehands had fallen upon her knees, but still held the embroidery, on whichshe had been engaged. The profile of Blanche was visible, leaning alittle towards her sister, with an expression of tender and anxioussolicitude, whilst her needle remained in the canvas, as if she had justceased to work.

  "Sister," said Blanche, in a low voice, after some moments of silence,during which the tears seemed to mount to her eyes, "tell me what youare thinking of. You look so sad."

  "I think of the Golden City of our dreams," replied Rose, almost in awhisper, after another short silence.

  Blanche understood the bitterness of these words. Without speaking, shethrew herself on her sister's neck, and wept. Poor girls! the GoldenCity of their dreams was Paris, with their father in it--Paris, themarvellous city of joys and festivals, through all of which the orphanshad beheld the radiant and smiling countenance of their sire! But, alas!the Beautiful City had been changed into a place of tears, and death,and mourning. The same terrible pestilence which had struck down theirmother in the heart of Siberia, seemed to have followed them like a darkand fatal cloud, which, always hovering above them, hid the mild blue ofthe sky, and the joyous light of the sun.

  The Golden City of their dreams! It was the place, where perhaps one daytheir father would present to them two young lovers, good and fair asthemselves. "They love you," he was to say; "they are worthy of you.Let each of you have a brother, and me two sons." Then what chaste,enchanting confusion for those two orphans, whose hearts, pure ascrystal, had never reflected any image but that of Gabriel, thecelestial messenger sent by their mother to protect them!

  We can therefore understand the painful emotion of Blanche, when sheheard her sister repeat, with bitter melancholy, those words whichdescribed their whole situation: "I think of the Golden City of ourdreams!"

  "Who knows?" proceeded Blanche, drying her sister's tears; "perhaps,happiness may yet be in store for us."

  "Alas! if we are not happy with our father by us--shall we ever be so?"

  "Yes, when we rejoin our mother," said Blanche, lifting her eyes toheaven.

  "Then, sister, this dream may be a warning--it is so like that we had inGermany."

  "The difference being that then the Angel Gabriel came down from heavento us, and that this time he takes us from earth, to our mother."

  "And this dream will perhaps come true, like the other, my sister. Wedreamt that the Angel Gabriel would protect us, and he came to save usfrom the shipwreck."

  "And, this time, we dream that he will lead us to heaven. Why should notthat happen also?"

  "But to bring that about, sister, our Gabriel, who saved us from theshipwreck, must die also. No, no; that must not happen. Let us pray thatit may not happen."

  "No, it will not happen--for it is only Gabriel's good angel, who is solike him, that we saw in our dreams."

  "Sister, dear, how singular is this dream!--Here, as in Germany, we haveboth dreamt the same--three times, the very same!"

  "It is true. The Angel Gabriel bent over us, and looked at us with somild and sad an air, saying: 'Come, my children! come, my sisters! Yourmother waits for you. Poor children, arrived from so far!' added he inhis tender voice: 'You have passed over the earth, gentle and innocentas two doves, to repose forever in the maternal nest.'"

  "Yes, those were the words of the archangel," said the other orphan,with a pensive air; "we have done no harm to any one, and we have lovedthose who loved us--why should we fear to die?"

  "Therefore, dear sister, we rather smiled than wept, when he took usby the hand, and, spreading wide his beautiful white wings, carried usalong with him to the blue depths of the sky."

  "To heaven, where our dear mother waited for us with open arms, her faceall bathed in tears."

  "Oh, sweet sister! one has not dreams like ours for nothing. And then,"added she, looking at Rose, with a sad smile that went to the heart,"our death might perhaps end the sorrow, of which we have been thecause."

  "Alas! it is not our fault. We love him so much. But we are so timid andsorrowful before him, that he may perhaps think we love him not."

  So saying, Rose took her handkerchief from her workbasket, to dry herfears; a paper, folded in the form of a letter, fell out.

  At this sight, the two shuddered, and pressed close to one mother,and Rose said to Blanche, in a trembling voice: "Another of theseletters!--Oh, I am afraid! It will doubtless be like the last."

  "We must pick it up quickly, that it may not be seen," said Blanche,hastily stooping to seize the letter; "the people who take interest inus might otherwise be exposed to great danger."

  "But how could this letter come to us?"

  "How did the others come to be placed right under our hand, and alwaysin the absence of our duenna?"

  "It is true. Why seek to explain the mystery? We should never be able todo so. Let us read the letter. It will perhaps be more favorable to usthan the last." And the two sisters read as follows:-"Continue to loveyour father, dear children, for he is very miserable, and you are theinvoluntary cause of his distress. You will never know the terriblesacrifices that your presence imposes on him; but, alas! he is thevictim of his paternal duties. His sufferings are more cruel than ever;spare him at least those marks of tenderness, which occasion him so muchmore pain than pleasure. Each caress is a dagger-stroke, for he sees inyou the innocent cause of his misfortunes. Dear children, you must nottherefore despair. If you have enough command over yourselves, not totorture him by the display of too warm a tenderness, if you can minglesome reserve with your affection, you will greatly alleviate his sorrow.Keep these letters a secret from every one, even from good Dagobert,who loves you so much; otherwise, both he and you, your father, andthe unknown friend who is writing to you, will be exposed to the utmostperil, for your enemies are indeed formidable. Courage and hope! Mayyour father's tenderness be once more free from sorrow and regret!--Thathappy day is perhaps not so far distant. Burn this letter like all theothers!"

  The above note was written with so much cunning that, even supposing theorphans had communicated it to their father or Dagobert, it would at theworst have been considered a strange, intrusive proceeding, but almostexcusable from the spirit in which it was conceived. Nothing couldhave been contrived with more perfidious art, if
we consider the cruelperplexity in which Marshal Simon was struggling between the fearof again leaving his children and the shame of neglecting what heconsidered a sacred duty. All the tenderness, all the susceptibilityof heart which distinguished the orphans, had been called into play bythese diabolical counsels, and the sisters soon perceived that theirpresence was in fact both sweet and painful to their father; forsometimes he felt himself incapable of leaving them, and sometimes thethought of a neglected duty spread a cloud of sadness over his brow.Hence the poor twins could not fail to value the fatal meaning of theanonymous letters they received. They were persuaded that, from somemysterious motive, which they were unable to penetrate, their presencewas often importunate and even painful to their father. Hence thegrowing sadness of Rose and Blanche--hence the sort of fear and reservewhich restrained the expression of their filial tenderness. A mostpainful situation for the marshal, who deceived by inexplicableappearances, mistook, in his turn, their manner of indifference tohim--and so, with breaking heart, and bitter grief upon his face, oftenabruptly quitted his children to conceal his tears!

  And the desponding orphans said to each other: "We are the cause of ourfather's grief. It is our presence which makes him so unhappy."

  The reader may new judge what ravages such a thought, when fixed andincessant, must have made on these young, loving, timid, and simplehearts. Haw could the orphans be on their guard against such anonymouscommunications, which spoke with reverence of all they loved, and seemedevery day justified by the conduct of their father? Already victims ofnumerous plots, and hearing that they were surrounded by enemies, wecan understand, how faithful to the advice of their unknown friend, theyforbore to confide to Dagobert these letters, in which he was so justlyappreciated. The object of the proceeding was very plain. By continuallyharassing the marshal on all sides, and persuading him of the coldnessof his children, the conspirators might naturally hope to conquer thehesitation which had hitherto prevented his again quitting his daughtersto embark in a dangerous enterprise. To render the marshal's life soburdensome that he would desire to seek relief from his torments in airyproject of daring and generous chivalry, was one of the ends proposed byRodin--and, as we have seen, it wanted neither logic nor possibility.

  After having read the letter, the two remained for a moment silentand dejected. Then Rose, who held the paper in her hand, started upsuddenly, approached the chimneypiece, and threw the letter into thefire, saying, with a timid air: "We must burn it quickly, or perhapssome great danger will ensue."

  "What greater misfortune can happen to us," said Blanche, despondingly,"than to cause such sorrow to our father? What can be the reason of it?"

  "Perhaps," said Rose, whose tears were slowly trickling down her cheek,"he does not find us what he could have desired. He may love us wellas the children of our poor mother, but we are not the daughters he haddreamed of. Do you understand me, sister?"

  "Yes, yes--that is perhaps what occasioned all his sorrow. We are sobadly informed, so wild, so awkward, that he is no doubt ashamed of us;and, as he loves us in spite of all, it makes him suffer."

  "Alas! it is not our fault. Our dear mother brought us up in the desertsof Siberia as well as she could."

  "Oh! father himself does not reproach us with it; only it gives himpain."

  "Particularly if he has friends whose daughters are very beautiful, andpossessed of all sorts of talents. Then he must bitterly regret that weare not the same."

  "Dost remember when he took us to see our cousin, Mdlle. Adrienne, whowas so affectionate and kind to us, that he said to us, with admiration:'Did you notice her, my children? How beautiful she is, and what talent,what a noble heart, and therewith such grace and elegance!'"

  "Oh, it is very true! Mdlle. de Cardoville is so beautiful, her voiceis so sweet and gentle, that, when we saw and heard her, we fancied thatall our troubles were at an end."

  "And it is because of such beauty, no doubt, that our father, comparingus with our cousin and so many other handsome young ladies, cannot bevery proud of us. And he, who is so loved and honored, would have likedto have been proud of his daughters."

  Suddenly Rose laid her hand on her sister's arm, and said to her,with anxiety: "Listen! listen! they are talking very loud in father'sbedroom."

  "Yes," said Blanche, listening in her turn; "and I can hear him walking.That is his step."

  "Good heaven! how he raises his voice; he seems to be in a greatpassion; he will perhaps come this way."

  And at the thought of their father's coming--that father who reallyadored them--the unhappy children looked in terror at each other. Thesound of a loud and angry voice became more and more distinct; and Rose,trembling through all her frame, said to her sister: "Do not let usremain here! Come into our room."

  "Why?"

  "We should hear, without designing it, the words of our father--and hedoes not perhaps know that we are so near."

  "You are right. Come, come!" answered Blanche, as she rose hastily fromher seat.

  "Oh! I am afraid. I have never heard him speak in so angry a tone."

  "Oh! kind heaven!" said Blanche, growing pale, as she stoppedinvoluntarily. "It is to Dagobert that he is talking so loud."

  "What can be the matter--to make our father speak to him in that way?"

  "Alas! some great misfortune must have happened."

  "Oh, sister! do not let us remain here! It pains me too much to hearDagobert thus spoken to."

  The crash of some article, hurled with violence and broken to pieces inthe next room, so frightened the orphans, that, pale and trembling withemotion, they rushed into their own apartment, and fastened the door. Wemust now explain the cause of Marshal Simon's violent anger.