The Wandering Jew. Эжен Сю
Goliath began to mount the ladder; half-way up he stopped. "Master," said he, "may I not bring down a bit of meat for Death?—you will see that she'll bear me malice; she puts it all down to my account; she never forgets, and on the first occasion—"
"The pike and the cloth!" repeated the Prophet, in an imperious tone. And whilst Goliath, swearing to himself, proceeded to execute his instructions, Morok opened the great door of the shed, looked out into the yard, and listened.
"Here's the pike and the cloth," said the giant, as he descended the ladder with the articles. "Now what must I do next?"
"Return to the cellar, mount once more by the window, and when the old man leaves the room—"
"Who will make him leave the room?"
"Never mind! he will leave it."
"What next?"
"You say the lamp is near the window?"
"Quite near—on the table next to the knapsack."
"Well, then, as soon as the old man leaves the room, push open the window, throw down the lamp, and if you accomplish cleverly what remains to do—the ten florins are yours—you remember it all?"
"Yes, yes."
"The girls will be so frightened by the noise and darkness, that they will remain dumb with terror."
"Make yourself easy! The wolf turned into a fox; why not a serpent?"
"There is yet something."
"Well, what now?"
"The roof of this shed is not very high, the window of the loft is easy of access, the night is dark—instead of returning by the door—"
"I will come in at the window."
"Ay, and without noise."
"Like a regular snake!" and the giant departed.
"Yes!" said the Prophet to himself, after a long silence, "these means are sure. It was not for me to hesitate. A blind and obscure instrument, I know not the motives of the orders I have received: but from the recommendations which accompany them—but from the position of him who sends them—immense interests must be involved—interests connected with all that is highest and greatest upon earth!—And yet how can these two girls, almost beggars, how can this wretched soldier represent such interests?—No matter," added he, with humility; "I am the arm which acts—it is for the head, which thinks and orders, to answer for its work."
Soon after the Prophet left the shed, carrying with him the red cloth, and directed his steps towards the little stable that contained Jovial. The crazy door, imperfectly secured by a latch, was easily opened. At sight of a stranger Spoil-sport threw himself upon him; but his teeth encountered the iron leggings of the Prophet, who, in spite of the efforts of the dog took Jovial by his halter, threw the blanket over his head to prevent his either seeing or smelling, and led him from the stable into the interior of the menagerie, of which he closed the door.
CHAPTER X.
THE SURPRISE.
The orphans, after reading the journal of their father, remained for some moments silent, sad, and pensive, contemplating the leaves yellowed by time. Dagobert, also plunged in a reverie, thought of his wife and son, from whom he had been so long separated, and hoped soon to see again.
The soldier was the first to break the silence, which had lasted for several minutes. Taking the leaves from the hand of Blanche, he folded them carefully, put them into his pocket, and thus addressed the orphans:
"Courage, my children! you see what a brave father you have. Think only of the pleasure of greeting him, and remember always the name of the gallant youth, to whom you will owe that pleasure—for without him your father would have been killed in India."
"Djalma! we shall never forget him," said Rose.
"And if our guardian angel Gabriel should return," added Blanche, "we will ask him to watch over Djalma as over ourselves."
"Very well, my children; I am sure that you will forget nothing that concerns good feeling. But to return to the traveller, who came to visit your poor mother in Siberia, he had seen the general a month after the events of which you have read, and at a moment when he was about to enter on a new campaign against the English. It was then that your father entrusted him with the papers and medal."
"But of what use will this medal be to us, Dagobert?"
"And what is the meaning of these words engraved upon it?" added Rose, as she drew it from her bosom.
"Why it means, my children, that on the 13th of February, 1832, we must be at No. 3, Rue Saint Francois, Paris."
"But what are we to do there?"
"Your poor mother was seized so quickly with her last illness, that she was unable to tell me. All I know is, that this medal came to her from her parents, and that it had been a relic preserved in her family for more than a century."
"And how did our father get it?"
"Among the articles which had been hastily thrown into the coach, when he was removed by force from Warsaw, was a dressing-case of your mother's, in which was contained this medal. Since that time the general had been unable to send it back, having no means of communicating with us, and not even knowing where we were."
"This medal is, then, of great importance to us?"
"Unquestionably; for never, during fifteen years, had I seen your mother so happy, as on the day the traveller brought it back to her. 'Now,' said she to me, in the presence of the stranger, and with tears of joy in her eyes, 'now may my children's future be brilliant as their life has hitherto been miserable. I will entreat of the governor of Siberia permission to go to France with my daughters; it will perhaps be thought I have been sufficiently punished, by fifteen years of exile, and the confiscation of my property. Should they refuse, I will remain here; but they will at least allow me to send my children to France, and you must accompany them, Dagobert. You shall set out immediately, for much time has been already lost; and, if you were not to arrive before the 13th of next February, this cruel separation and toilsome journey would have been all in vain.'"
"Suppose we were one day after?"
"Your mother told me that if we arrived the 14th instead of the 13th, it would be too late. She also gave me a thick letter, to put into the post for France, in the first town we should pass through—which I have done."
"And do you think we shall be at Paris in time?"
"I hope so; still, if you are strong enough, we must sometimes make forced marches—for, if we only travel our five leagues a day, and that without accident, we shall scarcely reach Paris until the beginning of February, and it is better to be a little beforehand."
"But as father is in—India, and condemned to death if he return to
France, when shall we see him?"
"And where shall we see him?"
"Poor children! there are so many things you have yet to learn. When the traveller quitted him, the general could not return to France, but now he can do so."
"And why is that?"
"Because the Bourbons, who had banished him, were themselves turned out last year. The news must reach India, and your father will certainly come to meet you at Paris, because he expects that you and your mother will be there on the 13th of next February."
"Ah! now I understand how we may hope to see him," said Rose with a sigh.
"Do you know the name of this traveller, Dagobert?"
"No, my children; but whether called Jack or John, he is a good sort. When he left your mother, she thanked him with