The Wandering Jew
Chapter 105 : "I perceive it, my dear girl. Remember, then, the name of the Count de Montbron.&

"I perceive it, my dear girl. Remember, then, the name of the Count de Montbron."

"The Count de Montbron--I shall not forget."

"He is one of my good old friends, and lives on the Place Vendome, No.

7."

"Place Vendome, No. 7--I shall remember."

"M. Agricola's father must go to him this evening, and, if he is not at home, wait for his coming in. He must ask to speak to him, as if from me, and send him this ring as a proof of what he says. Once with him, he must tell him all--the abduction of the girls, the name of the convent where they are confined, and my own detention as a lunatic in the asylum of Dr. Baleinier. Truth has an accent of its own, which M. de Montbron will recognize. He is a man of much experience and judgment, and possessed of great influence. He will immediately take the necessary steps, and to-morrow, or the day after, these poor orphans and myself will be restored to liberty--all thanks to you! But moments are precious; we might be discovered; make haste, dear child!"

At the moment of drawing back, Adrienne said to Mother Bunch, with so sweet a smile and affectionate a tone, that it was impossible not to believe her sincere: "M. Agricola told me that I had a heart like yours.

I now understand how honorable, how flattering those words were for me.

Pray, give me your hand!" added Mdlle. de Cardoville, whose eyes were filling with tears; and, pa.s.sing her beautiful hand through an opening in the fence, she offered it to the other. The words and the gesture of the fair patrician were full of so much real cordiality, that the sempstress, with no false shame, placed tremblingly her own poor thin hand in Adrienne's, while the latter, with a feeling of pious respect, lifted it spontaneously to her lips, and said: "Since I cannot embrace you as my sister, let me at least kiss this hand, enn.o.bled by labor!"

Suddenly, footsteps were heard in the garden of Dr. Baleinier; Adrienne withdrew abruptly, and disappeared behind some trees, saying: "Courage, memory, and hope!"

All this had pa.s.sed so rapidly that the young workwoman had no time to speak or move; tears, sweet tears, flowed abundantly down her pale cheeks. For a young lady, like Adrienne de Cardoville, to treat her as a sister, to kiss her hand, to tell her that she was proud to resemble her in heart--her, a poor creature, vegetating in the lowest abyss of misery--was to show a spirit of fraternal equality, divine, as the gospel words.

There are words and impressions which make a n.o.ble soul forget years of suffering, and which, as by a sudden flash, reveal to it something of its own worth and grandeur. Thus it was with the hunchback. Thanks to this generous speech, she was for a moment conscious of her own value.

And though this feeling was rapid as it was ineffable, she clasped her hands and raised her eyes to heaven with an expression of fervent grat.i.tude; for, if the poor sempstress did not practise, to use the jargon of ultramontane cant, no one was more richly endowed with that deep religious sentiment, which is to mere dogmas what the immensity of the starry heaven is to the vaulted roof of a church.

Five minutes after quitting Mdlle. de Cardoville, Mother Bunch, having left the garden without being perceived, reascended to the first story, and knocked gently at the door of the press-room. A sister came to open the door to her.

"Is not Mdlle. Florine, with whom I came, still here, sister?" asked the needlewoman.

"She could not wait for you any longer. No doubt, you have come from our mother the superior?"

"Yes, yes, sister," answered the sempstress, casting down her eyes; "would you have the goodness to show me the way out?"

"Come with me."

The sewing-girl followed the nun, trembling at every step lest she should meet the superior, who would naturally have inquired the cause of her long stay in the convent.

At length the inner gate closed upon Mother Bunch. Pa.s.sing rapidly across the vast court-yard and approaching the porter's lodge, to ask him to let her out, she heard these words p.r.o.nounced in a gruff voice: "It seems, old Jerome, that we are to be doubly on our guard to-night.

Well, I shall put two extra b.a.l.l.s in my gun. The superior says we are to make two rounds instead of one."

"I want no gun, Nicholas," said the other voice; "I have my sharp scythe, a true gardener's weapon--and none the worse for that."

Feeling an involuntary uneasiness at these words, which she had heard by mere chance, Mother Bunch approached the porter's lodge, and asked him to open the outer gate.

"Where do you come from?" challenged the porter, leaning half way out of his lodge, with a double barrelled gun, which he was occupied in loading, in his hand, and at the same time examining the sempstress with a suspicious air.

"I come from speaking to the superior," answered Mother Bunch timidly.

"Is that true?" said Nicholas roughly. "You look like a sanctified scarecrow. Never mind. Make haste and cut!"

The gate opened, and Mother Bunch went out. Hardly had she gone a few steps in the sweet, when, to her great surprise, she saw the dog Spoil sport run up to her, and his master, Dagobert, a little way behind him, arriving also with precipitation. She was hastening to meet the soldier, when a full, sonorous voice exclaimed from a little distance: "Oh my good sister!" which caused the girl to turn round. From the opposite side to that whence Dagobert was coming, she saw Agricola hurrying towards the spot.

CHAPTER IX. THE ENCOUNTERS.

At the sight of Dagobert and Agricola, Mother Bunch remained motionless with surprise, a few steps from the convent-gate. The soldier had not yet perceived the sempstress. He advanced rapidly, following the dog, who though lean, half-starved, rough-coated, and dirty, seemed to frisk with pleasure, as he turned his intelligent face towards his master, to whom he had gone back, after caressing Mother Bunch.

"Yes, yes; I understand you, old fellow!" said the soldier, with emotion. "You are more faithful than I was; you did not leave the dear children for a minute. Yes, you followed them, and watched day and night, without food, at the door of the house to which they were taken--and, at length, weary of waiting to see them come forth, ran home to fetch me. Yes; whilst I was giving way to despair, like a furious madman, you were doing what I ought to have done--discovering their retreat. What does it all prove? Why, that beasts are better than men--which is well known. Well, at length I shall see them again. When I think that tomorrow is the 13th, and that without you, my did Spoil-sport, all would be lost--it makes me shudder. But I say, shall we soon be there? What a deserted quarter! and night coming on!"

Dagobert had held this discourse to Spoil-sport, as he walked along following the good dog, who kept on at a rapid pace. Suddenly, seeing the faithful animal start aside with a bound, he raised his eyes, and perceived the dog frisking about the hunchback and Agricola, who had just met at a little distance from the convent-gate.

"Mother Bunch?" exclaimed both father and son, as they approached the young workwoman, and looked at her with extreme surprise.

"There is good hope, M. Dagobert," said she with inexpressible joy.

"Rose and Blanche are found!" Then, turning towards the smith, she added, "There is good hope, Agricola: Mdlle. de Cardoville is not mad. I have just seen her."

"She is not mad? what happiness!" exclaimed the smith.

"The children!" cried Dagobert, trembling with emotion, as he took the work-girl's hands in his own. "You have seen them?"

"Yes; just now--very sad--very unhappy--but I was not able to speak to them."

"Oh!" said Dagobert, stopping as if suffocated by the news, and pressing his hands on his bosom; "I never thought that my old heart could beat so!--And yet, thanks to my dog, I almost expected what has taken place.

Anyhow, I am quite dizzy with joy."

"Well, father, it's a good day," said Agricola, looking gratefully at the girl.

"Kiss me, my dear child!" added the soldier, as he pressed Mother Bunch affectionately in his arms; then, full of impatience, he added: "Come, let us go and fetch the children."

"Ah, my good sister!" said Agricola, deeply moved; "you will restore peace, perhaps life, to my father--and Mdlle. de Cardoville--but how do you know?"

"A mere chance. And how did you come here?"

"Spoil-sport stops and barks," cried Dagobert, who had already made several steps in advance.

Indeed the dog, who was as impatient as his master to see the orphans, and far better informed as to the place of their retreat, had posted himself at the convent gate, and was beginning to bark, to attract the attention of Dagobert. Understanding his dog, the latter said to the hunchback, as he pointed in that direction with his finger: "The children are there?"

"Yes, M. Dagobert."

"I was sure of it. Good dog!--Oh, yes! beasts are better than men--except you, my dear girl, who are better than either man or beast.

But my poor children! I shall see them, I shall have them once more!"

So saying, Dagobert, in spite of his age, began to run very fast towards Spoil-sport. "Agricola," cried Mother Bunch, "prevent thy father from knocking at that door. He would ruin all."

In two strides, the smith had reached his father, just as the latter was raising his hand to the knocker. "Stop, father!" cried the smith, as he seized Dagobert by the arm.

"What the devil is it now?"

"Mother Bunch says that to knock would ruin all."