The Wandering Jew (Vol.1-11). Эжен Сю
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you have not found it the golden city of your dreams, by any means. But, patience, patience; you'll find Paris not so bad as it looks."
"Besides," said Agricola, "I am sure the arrival of Marshal Simon in
Paris 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; and latterly, 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 other things, 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 of saying 'my boy'); and they ought to love each other like brothers. Oh, my brave, brave wife!" said Dagobert, with emotion, "you did a good thing, poor as you were, taking the unfortunate child—and bringing him up 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 to your account; in the mean time, you will be sure to see him to-morrow morning."
"My dear brother arrived too!" cried the blacksmith; "who'll say, after this, that there are not days set apart for happiness? How came you to meet him, father?"
"I'll tell you all, by and by, about when and how we met Gabriel; for if 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 and the young ladies wish to sup, Agricola will fetch something from the cook-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 warm you a little, my dear young ladies," said Frances; "unfortunately, I have nothing else to offer you."
"You are right, Frances; the dear children are tired, and want to go to
bed; while they do so, I'll go to my boy's room, and, before Rose and
Blanche are awake, I will come down and converse with you, just to give
Agricola 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, with a respectable air, entered the room, and glanced rapidly round, looking for a moment at Rose and Blanche.
"Allow me to observe, sir," said Agricola, "that after knocking, you might 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—I regret my intrusion—I am ashamed—"
"Well, you ought to be, sir," said Agricola, with impatience, "what do you 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 abroad at my blunder: I thought this was the room of that young person. I brought her proposals for work from a very respectable party."
"It is very late, sir," said Agricola, with surprise. "But that young person is as one of our family. Call to-morrow; you cannot see her to night; 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 be assured that—"
"If you go on much longer making excuses, sir, you will have to excuse the length of your excuses; and it is time this came to an end!"
Rose and Blanche smiled at these words of Agricola; while Dagobert rubbed his moustache with pride.
"What wit the boy has!" said he aside to his wife. "But that does not astonish you—you are used to it."
During this speech, the ceremonious person withdrew, having again directed a long inquiring glance to the sisters, and to Agricola and Dagobert.
In a few minutes after, Frances having spread a mattress on the ground for herself, and put the whitest sheets on her bed for the orphans, assisted them to undress with maternal solicitude, Dagobert and Agricola having previously withdrawn to their garret. Just as the blacksmith, who preceded his father with a light, passed before the door of Mother Bunch's room, the latter, half concealed in the shade, said to him rapidly, 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 did not hear them; but as Agricola stopped suddenly, with a start, the old soldier said to him,
"Well, boy, what is it?"
"Nothing, father," said the blacksmith, turning round; "I feared I did not light you well."
"Oh, stand at ease about that; I have the legs and eyes of fifteen to night;" and the soldier, not noticing his son's surprise, went into the little room where they were both to pass the night.
On leaving the house, after his inquiries about Mother Bunch, the over polite Paul Pry slunk along to the end of Brise-Miche Street. He advanced towards a hackney-coach drawn up on the Cloitre Saint-Merry Square.
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 Frances Baudoin's; by listening at the door, I learnt that the sisters will sleep with her, in that room, to-night; the old man with gray moustache will share the young blacksmith's room."
"Very well," said Rodin.
"I did not dare insist on seeing the deformed workwoman this evening on the subject of the Bacchanal Queen; I intend returning to-morrow, to learn the effect of the letter she must have received this evening by the post about the young blacksmith."
"Do not fail! And now you will call, for me, on Frances Baudoin's confessor, late as it is; you will tell him that I am waiting for him at Rue du Milieu des Ursins—he must not lose a moment. Do you come with him. Should I not be returned, he will wait for me. You will tell him it is on a matter of great moment."
"All shall be faithfully executed," said the ceremonious man, cringing to Rodin, as the coach drove quickly away.
CHAPTER XXXI.
AGRICOLA AND MOTHER BUNCH.
Within one hour after the different scenes which have just been described the most profound silence reigned in the soldier's humble dwelling. A flickering light, which played through two panes of glass in a door, betrayed that Mother Bunch had not yet gone to sleep; for her gloomy recess, without air or light, was impenetrable to the rays of day, except