Le Juif errant. English

  CHAPTER XXX. THE RETURN.

  In five minutes Agricola returned; his face was pale and agitated--hiseyes glistened with tears, and his hands trembled; but his countenanceexpressed extraordinary happiness and emotion. He stood at the door fora moment, as if too much affected to accost his mother.

  Frances's sight was so bad that she did not immediately perceive thechange her son's countenance had undergone.

  "Well, my child--what is it?" she inquired.

  Before the blacksmith could reply, Mother Bunch, who had morediscernment, exclaimed: "Goodness, Agricola--how pale you are! Whateveris the matter?"

  "Mother," said the artisan, hastening to Frances, without replyingto the sempstress,--"mother, expect news that will astonish you; butpromise me you will be calm."

  "What do you mean? How you tremble! Look at me! Mother Bunch wasright--you are quite pale."

  "My kind mother!" and Agricola, kneeling before Frances, took both herhands in his--"you must--you do not know,--but--"

  The blacksmith could not go on. Tears of joy interrupted his speech.

  "You weep, my dear child! Your tears alarm me. 'What is the matter?--youterrify me!"

  "Oh, no, I would not terrify you; on the contrary," said Agricola,drying his eyes--"you will be so happy. But, again, you must try andcommand your feelings, for too much joy is as hurtful as too muchgrief."

  "What?"

  "Did I not say true, when I said he would come?"

  "Father!" cried Frances. She rose from her seat; but her surprise andemotion were so great that she put one hand to her heart to still itsbeating, and then she felt her strength fail. Her son sustained her, andassisted her to sit down.

  Mother Bunch, till now, had stood discreetly apart, witnessing from adistance the scene which completely engrossed Agricola and his mother.But she now drew near timidly, thinking she might be useful; for Franceschanged color more and more.

  "Come, courage, mother," said the blacksmith; "now the shock is over,you have only to enjoy the pleasure of seeing my father."

  "My poor man! after eighteen years' absence. Oh, I cannot believe it,"said Frances, bursting into tears. "Is it true? Is it, indeed, true?"

  "So true, that if you will promise me to keep as calm as you can, I willtell you when you may see him."

  "Soon--may I not?"

  "Yes; soon."

  "But when will he arrive?"

  "He may arrive any minute--to-morrow--perhaps to-day."

  "To-day!"

  "Yes, mother! Well, I must tell you all--he has arrived."

  "He--he is--" Frances could not articulate the word.

  "He was downstairs just now. Before coming up, he sent the dyer toapprise me that I might prepare you; for my brave father feared thesurprise might hurt you."

  "Oh, heaven!"

  "And now," cried the blacksmith, in an accent of indescribable joy--"heis there, waiting! Oh, mother! for the last ten minutes I have scarcelybeen able to contain myself--my heart is bursting with joy." And runningto the door, he threw it open.

  Dagobert, holding Rose and Blanche by the hand, stood on the threshold.Instead of rushing to her husband's arms, Frances fell on her kneesin prayer. She thanked heaven with profound gratitude for hearing herprayers, and thus accepting her offerings. During a second, the actorsof this scene stood silent and motionless. Agricola, by a sentiment ofrespect and delicacy, which struggled violently with his affection,did not dare to fall on his father's neck. He waited with constrainedimpatience till his mother had finished her prayer.

  The soldier experienced the same feeling as the blacksmith; theyunderstood each other. The first glance exchanged by father and sonexpressed their affection--their veneration for that excellent woman,who in the fulness of her religious fervor, forgot, perhaps, too muchthe creature for the Creator.

  Rose and Blanche, confused and affected, looked with interest on thekneeling woman; while Mother Bunch, shedding in silence tears of joyat the thought of Agricola's happiness, withdrew into the most obscurecorner of the room, feeling that she was a stranger, and necessarily outof place in that family meeting. Frances rose, and took a step towardsher husband, who received her in his arms. There was a moment of solemnsilence. Dagobert and Frances said not a word. Nothing could be heardbut a few sighs, mingled with sighs of joy. And, when the aged couplelooked up, their expression was calm, radiant, serene; for the full andcomplete enjoyment of simple and pure sentiments never leaves behind afeverish and violent agitation.

  "My children," said the soldier, in tones of emotion, presenting theorphans to Frances, who, after her first agitation, had surveyed themwith astonishment, "this is my good and worthy wife; she will be to thedaughters of General Simon what I have been to them."

  "Then, madame, you will treat us as your children," said Rose,approaching Frances with her sister.

  "The daughters of General Simon!" cried Dagobert's wife, more and moreastonished.

  "Yes, my dear Frances; I have brought them from afar not without somedifficulty; but I will tell you that by and by."

  "Poor little things! One would take them for two angels, exactlyalike!" said Frances, contemplating the orphans with as much interest asadmiration.

  "Now--for us," cried Dagobert, turning to his son.

  "At last," rejoined the latter.

  We must renounce all attempts to describe the wild joy of Dagobertand his son, and the crushing grip of their hands, which Dagobertinterrupted only to look in Agricola's face; while he rested his handson the young blacksmith's broad shoulders that he might see to moreadvantage his frank masculine countenance, and robust frame. Then heshook his hand again, exclaiming, "He's a fine fellow--well built--whata good-hearted look he has!"

  From a corner of the room Mother Bunch enjoyed Agricola's happiness; butshe feared that her presence, till then unheeded, would be an intrusion.She wished to withdraw unnoticed, but could not do so. Dagobert and hisson were between her and the door; and she stood unable to take her eyesfrom the charming faces of Rose and Blanche. She had never seen anythingso winsome; and the extraordinary resemblance of the sisters increasedher surprise. Then, their humble mourning revealing that they were poor,Mother Bunch involuntarily felt more sympathy towards them.

  "Dear children! They are cold; their little hands are frozen, and,unfortunately, the fire is out," said Frances, She tried to warm theorphans' hands in hers, while Dagobert and his son gave themselves up tothe feelings of affection, so long restrained.

  As soon as Frances said that the fire was out, Mother Bunch hastened tomake herself useful, as an excuse for her presence; and, going to thecupboard, where the charcoal and wood were kept, she took some smallpieces, and, kneeling before the stove, succeeded, by the aid of a fewembers that remained, in relighting the fire, which soon began to drawand blaze. Filling a coffee-pot with water, she placed it on the stove,presuming that the orphans required some warm drink. The sempstress didall this with so much dexterity and so little noise--she was naturallyso forgotten amidst the emotions of the scene--that Frances, entirelyoccupied with Rose and Blanche, only perceived the fire when she feltits warmth diffusing round, and heard the boiling water singing in thecoffee-pot. This phenomenon--fire rekindling of itself--did not astonishDagobert's wife then, so wholly was she taken up in devising how shecould lodge the maidens; for Dagobert as we have seen, had not given hernotice of their arrival.

  Suddenly a loud bark was heard three or four times at the door.

  "Hallo! there's Spoil-sport," said Dagobert, letting in his dog; "hewants to come in to brush acquaintance with the family too."

  The dog came in with a bound, and in a second was quite at home. Afterhaving rubbed Dagobert's hand with his muzzle, he went in turns to greetRose and Blanche, and also Frances and Agricola; but seeing that theytook but little notice of him, he perceived Mother Bunch, who stoodapart, in an obscure corner of the room, and carrying out the popularsaying, "the friends of our friends are our friends," he went and lickedthe hands of the young workwoma
n, who was just then forgotten by all. Bya singular impulse, this action affected the girl to tears; she pattedher long, thin, white hand several times on the head of the intelligentdog. Then, finding that she could be no longer useful (for she had doneall the little services she deemed in her power), she took the handsomeflower Agricola had given her, opened the door gently, and went awayso discreetly that no one noticed her departure. After this exchangeof mutual affection, Dagobert, his wife, and son, began to think of therealities of life.

  "Poor Frances," said the soldier, glancing at Rose and Blanche, "you didnot expect such a pretty surprise!"

  "I am only sorry, my friend," replied Frances, "that the daughters ofGeneral Simon will not have a better lodging than this poor room; forwith Agricola's garret--"

  "It composes our mansion," interrupted Dagobert; "there are handsomer,it must be confessed. But be at ease; these young ladies are drilledinto not being hard to suit on that score. To-morrow, I and my boy willgo arm and arm, and I'll answer for it he won't walk the more uprightand straight of the two, and find out General Simon's father, at M.Hardy's factory, to talk about business."

  "To-morrow," said Agricola to Dagobert, "you will not find at thefactory either M. Hardy or Marshall Simon's father."

  "What is that you say, my lad?" cried Dagobert, hastily, "the Marshal!"

  "To be sure; since 1830, General Simon's friends have secured him thetitle and rank which the emperor gave him at the battle of Ligny."

  "Indeed!" cried Dagobert, with emotion, "but that ought not to surpriseme; for, after all, it is just; and when the emperor said a thing, theleast they can do is to let it abide. But it goes all the same to myheart; it makes me jump again."

  Addressing the sisters, he said: "Do you hear that, my children? Youarrive in Paris the daughters of a Duke and Marshal of France. Onewould hardly think it, indeed, to see you in this room, my poor littleduchesses! But patience; all will go well. Ah, father Simon must havebeen very glad to hear that his son was restored to his rank! eh, mylad?"

  "He told us he would renounce all kinds of ranks and titles to see hisson again; for it was during the general's absence that his friendsobtained this act of justice. But they expect Marshal Simon everymoment, for the last letter from India announced his departure."

  At these words Rose and Blanche looked at each other; and their eyesfilled with tears.

  "Heaven be praised! These children rely on his return; but why shall wenot find M. Hardy and father Simon at the factory to-morrow?"

  "Ten days ago, they went to examine and study an English millestablished in the south; but we expect them back every day."

  "The deuce! that's vexing; I relied on seeing the general's father, totalk over some important matters with him. At any rate, they know whereto write to him. So to-morrow you will let him know, my lad, that hisgranddaughters are arrived. In the mean time, children," added thesoldier, to Rose and Blanche, "my good wife will give you her bed andyou must put up with the chances of war. Poor things! they will not beworse off here than they were on the journey."

  "You know we shall always be well off with you and madame," said Rose.

  "Besides, we only think of the pleasure of being at length in Paris,since here we are to find our father," added Blanche.

  "That hope gives you patience, I know," said Dagobert, "but no matter!After all you have heard about it, you ought to be finely surprised, mychildren. As yet, you have not found it the golden city of your dreams,by any means. But, patience, patience; you'll find Paris not so bad asit looks."

  "Besides," said Agricola, "I am sure the arrival of Marshal Simon inParis will change it for you into a golden city."

  "You are right, Agricola," said Rose, with a smile, "you have, indeed,guessed us."

  "What! do you know my name?"

  "Certainly, Agricola, we often talked about you with Dagobert; andlatterly, too, with Gabriel," added Blanche.

  "Gabriel!" cried Agricola and his mother, at the same time.

  "Yes," replied Dagobert, making a sign of intelligence to the orphans,"we have lots to tell you for a fortnight to come; and among otherthings, how we chanced to meet with Gabriel. All I can now say is that,in his way, he is quite as good as my boy (I shall never be tired ofsaying 'my boy'); and they ought to love each other like brothers. Oh,my brave, brave wife!" said Dagobert, with emotion, "you did a goodthing, poor as you were, taking the unfortunate child--and bringing himup with your own."

  "Don't talk so much about it, my dear; it was such a simple thing."

  "You are right; but I'll make you amends for it by and by. 'Tis down toyour account; in the mean time, you will be sure to see him to-morrowmorning."

  "My dear brother arrived too!" cried the blacksmith; "who'll say, afterthis, that there are not days set apart for happiness? How came you tomeet him, father?"

  "I'll tell you all, by and by, about when and how we met Gabriel; forif you expect to sleep, you are mistaken. You'll give me half your room,and a fine chat we'll have. Spoil-sport will stay outside of this door;he is accustomed to sleep at the children's door."

  "Dear me, love, I think of nothing. But, at such a moment, if you andthe young ladies wish to sup, Agricola will fetch something from thecook-shop."

  "What do you say, children?"

  "No, thank you, Dagobert, we are not hungry; we are too happy."

  "You will take a little wine and water, sweetened, nice and hot, to warmyou a little, my dear young ladies," said Frances; "unfortunately, Ihave nothing else to offer you."

  "You are right, Frances; the dear children are tired, and want to go tobed; while they do so, I'll go to my boy's room, and, before Rose andBlanche are awake, I will come down and converse with you, just to giveAgricola a respite."

  A knock was now heard at the door.

  "It is good Mother Bunch come to see if we want her," said Agricola.

  "But I think she was here when my husband came in," added Frances.

  "Right, mother; and the good girl left lest she should be an intruder:she is so thoughtful. But no--no--it is not she who knocks so loud."

  "Go and see who it is, then, Agricola."

  Before the blacksmith could reach the door, a man decently dressed, witha respectable air, entered the room, and glanced rapidly round, lookingfor a moment at Rose and Blanche.

  "Allow me to observe, sir," said Agricola, "that after knocking, youmight have waited till the door was opened, before you entered. Pray,what is your business?"

  "Pray excuse me, sir," said the man, very politely, and speaking slowly,perhaps to prolong his stay in the room: "I beg a thousand pardons--Iregret my intrusion--I am ashamed--"

  "Well, you ought to be, sir," said Agricola, with impatience, "what doyou want?"

  "Pray, sir, does not Miss Soliveau, a deformed needlewoman, live here?"

  "No, sir; upstairs," said Agricola.

  "Really, sir," cried the polite man, with low bows, "I am quite abroadat my blunder: I thought this was the room of that young person. Ibrought her proposals for work from a very respectable party."

  "It is very late, sir," said Agricola, with surprise. "But that youngperson is as one of our family. Call to-morrow; you cannot see her tonight; she is gone to bed."

  "Then, sir, I again beg you to excuse--"

  "Enough, sir," said Agricola, taking a step towards the door.

  "I hope, madame and the young ladies, as well as this gent, will beassured that--"

  "If you go on much longer making excuses, sir, you will have to excusethe length of your excuses; and it is time this came to an end!"

  Rose and Blanche smiled at these words of Agricola; while Dagobertrubbed his moustache with pride.

  "What wit the boy has!" said he aside to his wife. "But that does notastonish you--you are used to it."

  During this speech, the ceremonious person withdrew, having againdirected a long inquiring glance to the sisters, and to Agricola andDagobert.

  In a few minutes after, Frances having spread a mattr
ess on the groundfor herself, and put the whitest sheets on her bed for the orphans,assisted them to undress with maternal solicitude, Dagobert and Agricolahaving previously withdrawn to their garret. Just as the blacksmith,who preceded his father with a light, passed before the door of MotherBunch's room, the latter, half concealed in the shade, said to himrapidly, in a low tone:

  "Agricola, great danger threatens you: I must speak to you."

  These words were uttered in so hasty and low a voice that Dagobert didnot hear them; but as Agricola stopped suddenly, with a start, the oldsoldier said to him,

  "Well, boy, what is it?"

  "Nothing, father," said the blacksmith, turning round; "I feared I didnot light you well."

  "Oh, stand at ease about that; I have the legs and eyes of fifteen tonight;" and the soldier, not noticing his son's surprise, went into thelittle room where they were both to pass the night.

  On leaving the house, after his inquiries about Mother Bunch, theover polite Paul Pry slunk along to the end of Brise-Miche Street. Headvanced towards a hackney-coach drawn up on the Cloitre Saint-MerrySquare.

  In this carriage lounged Rodin, wrapped in a cloak.

  "Well?" said he, in an inquiring tone.

  "The two girls and the man with gray moustache went directly to FrancesBaudoin's; by listening at the door, I learnt that the sisters willsleep with her, in that room, to-night; the old man with gray moustachewill share the young blacksmith's room."

  "Very well," said Rodin.

  "I did not dare insist on seeing the deformed workwoman this eveningon the subject of the Bacchanal Queen; I intend returning to-morrow, tolearn the effect of the letter she must have received this evening bythe post about the young blacksmith."

  "Do not fail! And now you will call, for me, on Frances Baudoin'sconfessor, late as it is; you will tell him that I am waiting for himat Rue du Milieu des Ursins--he must not lose a moment. Do you come withhim. Should I not be returned, he will wait for me. You will tell him itis on a matter of great moment."

  "All shall be faithfully executed," said the ceremonious man, cringingto Rodin, as the coach drove quickly away.