Le Juif errant. English

  CHAPTER LXII. TO A SOCIUS, A SOCIUS AND A HALF.

  The Reverend Father Caboccini, the Roman Jesuit who now came to visitRodin, was a short man of about thirty years of age, plump, in goodcondition, and with an abdomen that swelled out his black cassock. Thegood little father was blind with one eye, but his remaining organ ofvision sparkled with vivacity. His rosy countenance was gay, smiling,joyous, splendidly crowned with thick chestnut hair, which curled likea wax doll's. His address was cordial to familiarity, and his expansiveand petulant manners harmonized well with his general appearance. In asecond, Rodin had taken his measure of the Italian emissary; and as heknew the practice of his Company, and the ways of Rome, he felt byno means comfortable at sight of this jolly little father, with suchaffable manners. He would have less feared some tall, bony priest, withaustere and sepulchral countenance, for he knew that the Company lovesto deceive by the outward appearance of its agents; and if Rodin guessedrightly, the cordial address of this personage would rather tend to showthat he was charged with some fatal mission.

  Suspicious, attentive, with eye and mind on the watch, like an old wolf,expecting an attack, Rodin advanced as usual, slowly and tortuouslytowards the little man, so as to have time to examine him thoroughly,and penetrate beneath his jovial outside. But the Roman left him nospace for that purpose. In his impetuous affection he threw himselfright on the neck of Rodin, pressed him in his arms with an effusionof tenderness, and kissed him over and over again upon both cheeks, soloudly and plentifully that the echo resounded through the apartment.In his life Rodin had never been so treated. More and more uneasy at thetreachery which must needs lurk under such warm embraces, and irritatedby his own evil presentiments, the French Jesuit did, all he could toextricate himself from the Roman's exaggerated tokens of tenderness.But the latter kept his hold; his arms, though short, were vigorous, andRodin was kissed over and over again, till the little one-eyed man wasquite out of breath. It is hardly necessary to state that these embraceswere accompanied by the most friendly, affectionate, and fraternalexclamations--all in tolerably good French, but with a strong Italianaccent, which we muss beg the reader to supply for himself, after wehave given a single specimen. It will perhaps be remembered that,fully aware of the danger he might possibly incur by his ambitiousmachinations, and knowing from history that the use of poison had oftenbeen considered at Rome as a state necessity, Rodin, on being suddenlyattacked with the cholera, had exclaimed, with a furious glance atCardinal Malipieri, "I am poisoned!"

  The same apprehensions occurred involuntarily to the Jesuit's mind ashe tried, by useless efforts, to escape from the embraces of the Italianemissary; and he could not help muttering to himself, "This one-eyedfellow is a great deal too fond. I hope there is no poison under hisJudas-kisses." At last, little Father Caboccini, being quite outof breath, was obliged to relinquish his hold on Rodin's neck, who,readjusting his dirty collar, and his old cravat and waistcoat, somewhatin disorder in consequence of this hurricane of caresses, said in agruff tone, "Your humble servant, father, but you need not kiss quite sohard."

  Without making any answer to this reproach, the little father rivetedhis one eye upon Rodin with an expression of enthusiasm, and exclaimed,whilst he accompanied his words with petulant gestures, "At lazt Izee te zuperb light of our zacred Company, and can zalute him from myheart--vonse more, vonse more."

  As the little father had already recovered his breath, and was about torush once again into Rodin's arms, the latter stepped back hastily, andheld out his arm to keep him off, saying, in allusion to the illogicalmetaphor employed by Father Caboccini, "First of all, father, onedoes not embrace a light--and then I am not a light--I am a humble andobscure laborer in the Lord's vineyard."

  The Roman replied with enthusiasm (we shall henceforth translate hisgibberish), "You are right, father, we cannot embrace a light, but wecan prostrate ourselves before it, and admire its dazzling brightness."

  So saying, Caboccini was about to suit the action to the word, and toprostrate himself before Rodin, had not the latter prevented this modeof adulation by seizing the Roman by the arm and exclaiming, "This ismere idolatry, father. Pass over my qualities, and tell me what is theobject of your journey."

  "The object, my dear father, fills me with joy and happiness. I haveendeavored to show you my affection by my caresses, for my heart isoverflowing. I have hardly been able to restrain myself during myjourney hither, for my heart rushed to meet you. The object transports,delights, enchants me--"

  "But what enchants you?" cried Rodin, exasperated by these Italianexaggerations. "What is the object?"

  "This rescript of our very reverend and excellent General will informyou, my clear father."

  Caboccini drew from his pocket-book a folded paper, with three seals,which he kissed respectfully, and delivered to Rodin, who himself kissedit in his turn, and opened it with visible anxiety. While he read it thecountenance of the Jesuit remained impassible, but the pulsation of thearteries on his temples announced his internal agitation. Yet he put theletter coolly into his pocket, and looking at the Roman, said to him,"Be it as our excellent General has commanded!"

  "Then, father," cried Caboccini, with a new effusion of tenderness andadmiration, "I shall be the shadow of your light, and, in fact, yoursecond self. I shall have the happiness of being always with you, dayand night, and of acting as your socius, since, after having allowedyou to be without one for some time, according to your wish, and for theinterest of our blessed Company, our excellent General now thinks fit tosend me from Rome, to fill that post about your person--an unexpected,an immense favor, which fills me with gratitude to our General, and withlove to you, my dear, my excellent father!"

  "It is well played," thought Rodin; "but I am not so soft, and 'tis onlyamong the blind that your Cyclops are kings!"

  The evening of the day in which this scene took place between theJesuit and his new socius, Ninny Moulin, after receiving in presenceof Caboccini the instructions of Rodin, went straight to Madame de laSainte-Colombe's.

  This woman had made her fortune, at the time of the allies taking Paris,by keeping one of those "pretty milliner's shops," whose "pink bonnets"have run into a proverb not extinct in these days when bonnets are notknown. Ninny Moulin had no better well to draw inspiration from when,as now, he had to find out, as per Rodin's order, a girl of an age andappearance which, singularly enough, were closely resembling those ofMdlle. de Cardoville.

  No doubt of Ninny Moulin's success in this mission, for the next morningRodin, whose countenance wore a triumphant expression, put with his ownhand a letter into the post.

  This letter was addressed:

  "To M. Agricola Baudoin, "No. 2, Rue Brise-Miche, "Paris."