by Eugène Sue
CHAPTER XLVI. PRESENTIMENTS.
Whilst the preceding events took place in Dr. Baleinier's asylum, otherscenes were passing about the same hour, at Frances Baudoin's, in theRue Brise-Miche.
Seven o'clock in the morning had just struck at St. Mary church; the daywas dark and gloomy, and the sleet rattled against the windows of thejoyless chamber of Dagobert's wife.
As yet ignorant of her son's arrest, Frances had waited for him thewhole of the preceding evening, and a good part of the night, with themost anxious uneasiness; yielding at length to fatigue and sleep, aboutthree o'clock in the morning, she had thrown herself on a mattressbeside the bed of Rose and Blanche. But she rose with the first dawnof day, to ascend to Agricola's garret, in the very faint hope that hemight have returned home some hours before.
Rose and Blanche had just risen, and dressed themselves. They were alonein the sad, chilly apartment. Spoil-sport, whom Dagobert had left inParis, was stretched at full length near the cold stove; with his longmuzzle resting on his forepaws, he kept his eye fixed on the sisters.
Having slept but little during the night, they had perceived theagitation and anguish of Dagobert's wife. They had seen her walk up anddown, now talking to herself, now listening to the least noise that cameup the staircase, and now kneeling before the crucifix placed at oneextremity of the room. The orphans were not aware, that, whilst shebrayed with fervor on behalf of her son, this excellent woman waspraying for them also. For the state of their souls filled her withanxiety and alarm.
The day before, when Dagobert had set out for Chartres, Frances, havingassisted Rose and Blanche to rise, had invited them to say their morningprayer: they answered with the utmost simplicity, that they did not knowany, and that they never more than addressed their mother, who was inheaven. When Frances, struck with painful surprise, spoke to them ofcatechism, confirmation, communion, the sisters opened widely theirlarge eyes with astonishment, understanding nothing of such talk.
According to her simple faith, terrified at the ignorance of the younggirls in matters of religion, Dagobert's wife believed their souls tobe in the greatest peril, the more so as, having asked them if they hadever been baptized (at the same time explaining to them the nature ofthat sacrament), the orphans answered they did not think they had, sincethere was neither church nor priest in the village where they were born,during their mother's exile in Siberia.
Placing one's self in the position of Frances, you understand how muchshe was grieved and alarmed; for, in her eyes, these young girls,whom she already loved tenderly, so charmed was she with their sweetdisposition, were nothing but poor heathens, innocently doomed toeternal damnation. So, unable to restrain her tears, or conceal herhorrors, she had clasped them in her arms, promising immediately toattend to their salvation, and regretting that Dagobert had not thoughtof having them baptized by the way. Now, it must be confessed, that thisnotion had never once occurred to the ex-grenadier.
When she went to her usual Sunday devotions, Frances had not dared totake Rose and Blanche with her, as their complete ignorance of sacredthings would have rendered their presence at church, if not useless,scandalous; but, in her own fervent prayers she implored celestial mercyfor these orphans, who did not themselves know the desperate position oftheir souls.
Rose and Blanche were now left alone, in the absence of Dagobert's wife.They were still dressed in mourning, their charming faces seemingeven more pensive than usual. Though they were accustomed to a life ofmisfortune, they had been struck, since their arrival in the Rue BriseMiche, with the painful contrast between the poor dwelling which theyhad come to inhabit, and the wonders which their young imagination hadconceived of Paris, that golden city of their dreams. But, soon thisnatural astonishment was replaced by thoughts of singular gravity fortheir age. The contemplation of such honest and laborious poverty madethe orphans have reflections no longer those of children, but of youngwomen. Assisted by their admirable spirit of justice and of sympathy forall that is good, by their noble heart, by a character at once delicateand courageous, they had observed and meditated much during the lasttwenty-four hours.
"Sister," said Rose to Blanche, when Frances had quitted the room,"Dagobert's poor wife is very uneasy. Did you remark in the night, howagitated she was? how she wept and prayed?"
"I was grieved to see it, sister, and wondered what could be the cause."
"I am almost afraid to guess. Perhaps we may be the cause of heruneasiness?"
"Why so, sister? Because we cannot say prayers, nor tell if we have everbeen baptized?"
"That seemed to give her a good deal of pain, it is true. I was quitetouched by it, for it proves that she loves us tenderly. But I could notunderstand how we ran such terrible danger as she said we did."
"Nor I either, sister. We have always tried not to displease our mother,who sees and hears us."
"We love those who love us; we are resigned to whatever may happen tous. So, who can reproach us with any harm?"
"No one. But, perhaps, we may do some without meaning it."
"We?"
"Yes, and therefore I thought: We may perhaps be the cause of heruneasiness."
"How so?"
"Listen, sister! yesterday Madame Baudoin tried to work at those sacksof coarse cloth there on the table."
"Yes; but in about an half-hour, she told us sorrowfully, that she couldnot go on, because her eyes failed her, and she could not see clearly."
"So that she is not able to earn her living."
"No--but her son, M. Agricola, works for her. He looks so good, so gay,so frank, and so happy to devote himself for his mother. Oh, indeed! heis the worthy brother of our angel Gabriel!"
"You will see my reason for speaking of this. Our good old Dagobert toldus, that, when we arrived here, he had only a few pieces of money left."
"That is true."
"Now both he and his wife are unable to earn their living; what can apoor old soldier like him do?"
"You are right; he only knows how to love us, and take care of us, likehis children."
"It must then be M. Agricola who will have to support his father; forGabriel is a poor priest, who possesses nothing, and can render noassistance to those who have brought him up. So M. Agricola will have tosupport the whole family by himself."
"Doubtless--he owes it to father and mother--it is his duty, and he willdo it with a good will."
"Yes, sister--but he owes us nothing."
"What do you say, Blanche?"
"He is obliged to work for us also, as we possess nothing in the world."
"I had not thought of that. True."
"It is all very well, sister, for our father to be Duke and Marshal ofFrance, as Dagobert tells us, it is all very well for us to hope greatthings from this medal, but as long as father is not here, and our hopesare not realized, we shall be merely poor orphans, obliged to remain aburden to this honest family, to whom we already owe so much, and whofind it so hard to live, that--"
"Why do you pause, sister?"
"What I am about to say would make other people laugh; but you willunderstand it. Yesterday, when Dagobert's wife saw poor Spoil-sport athis dinner, she said, sorrowfully: 'Alas! he eats as much as a man!'--sothat I could almost have cried to hear her. They must be very poor, andyet we have come to increase their poverty."
The sisters looked sadly at each other, while Spoil-sport pretended notto know they were talking of his voracity.
"Sister, I understand," said Rose, after a moment's silence. "Well, wemust not be at the charge of any one. We are young, and have courage.Till our fate is decided, let us fancy ourselves daughters ofworkmen. After all, is not our grandfather a workman? Let us find someemployment, and earn our own living. It must be so proud and happy toearn one's living!"
"Good little sister," said Blanche, kissing Rose. "What happiness! Youhave forestalled my thought; kiss me!"
"How so?"
"Your project is mine exactly. Yesterday, when I heard Dagobert's wifecomplain
so sadly that she had lost her sight. I looked into your largeeyes, which reminded me of my own, and said to myself: 'Well! this poorold woman may have lost her sight, but Rose and Blanche Simon can seepretty clearly'--which is a compensation," added Blanche, with a smile.
"And, after all," resumed Rose, smiling in her turn, "the young ladiesin question are not so very awkward, as not to be able to sew up greatsacks of coarse cloth--though it may chafe their fingers a little."
"So we had both the same thought, as usual; only I wished to surpriseyou, and waited till we were alone, to tell you my plan."
"Yes, but there is something teases me."
"What is that?"
"First of all, Dagobert and his wife will be sure to say to us: 'Youngladies, you are not fitted for such work. What, daughters of a Marshalof France sewing up great ugly bags!' And then, if we insist upon it,they will add: 'Well, we have no work to give you. If you want any, youmust hunt for it.' What would Misses Simon do then?"
"The fact is, that when Dagobert has made up his mind to anything--"
"Oh! even then, if we coax him well--"
"Yes, in certain things; but in others he is immovable. It is just aswhen upon the journey, we wished to prevent his doing so much for us."
"Sister, an idea strikes me," cried Rose, "an excellent idea!"
"What is it? quick!"
"You know the young woman they call Mother Bunch, who appears to be soserviceable and persevering?"
"Oh yes! and so timid and discreet. She seems always to be afraidof giving offence, even if she looks at one. Yesterday, she did notperceive that I saw her; but her eyes were fixed on you with so good andsweet an expression, that tears came into mine at the very sight of it."
"Well, we must ask her how she gets work, for certainly she lives by herlabor."
"You are right. She will tell us all about it; and when we know,Dagobert may scold us, or try to make great ladies of us, but we will beas obstinate as he is."
"That is it; we must show some spirit! We will prove to him, as he sayshimself, that we have soldier's blood in our veins."
"We will say to him: 'Suppose, as you say, we should one day be rich, mygood Dagobert, we shall only remember this time with the more pleasure."
"It is agreed then, is it not, Rose? The first time we are alonewith Mother Bunch, we must make her our confidant, and ask her forinformation. She is so good a person, that she will not refuse us."
"And when father comes home, he will be pleased, I am sure, with ourcourage."
"And will approve our wish to support ourselves, as if we were alone inthe world."
On these words of her sister, Rose started. A cloud of sadness, almostof alarm, passed over her charming countenance, as she exclaimed: "Oh,sister, what a horrible idea!"
"What is the matter? your look frightens me."
"At the moment I heard you say, that our father would approve our wishto support ourselves, as if we were alone in the world--a frightfulthought struck me--I know not why--but feel how my heart beats--just asif some misfortune were about to happen us."
"It is true; your poor heart beats violently. But what was this thought?You alarm me."
"When we were prisoners, they did not at least separate us, and,besides, the prison was a kind of shelter--"
"A sad one, though shared with you."
"But if, when arrived here, any accident had parted us from Dagobert--ifwe had been left alone, without help, in this great town?"
"Oh, sister! do not speak of that. It would indeed be terrible. Whatwould become of us, kind heaven?"
This cruel thought made the girls remain for a moment speechless withemotion. Their sweet faces, which had just before glowed with a noblehope, grew pale and sad. After a pretty long silence, Rose upliftedher eyes, now filled with tears, "Why does this thought," she said,trembling, "affect us so deeply, sister? My heart sinks within me, as ifit were really to happen to us."
"I feel as frightened as you yourself. Alas! were we both to be lost inthis immense city, what would become of us?"
"Do not let us give way to such ideas, Blanche! Are we not here inDagobert's house, in the midst of good people?"
"And yet, sister," said Rose, with a pensive air, "it is perhaps goodfor us to have had this thought."
"Why so?"
"Because we shall now find this poor lodging all the better, as itaffords a shelter from all our fears. And when, thanks to our labor,we are no longer a burden to any one, what more can we need until thearrival of our father?"
"We shall want for nothing--there you are right--but still, why did thisthought occur to us, and why does it weigh so heavily on our minds?"
"Yes, indeed--why? Are we not here in the midst of friends that love us?How could we suppose that we should ever be left alone in Paris? It isimpossible that such a misfortune should happen to us--is it not, mydear sister?"
"Impossible!" said Rose, shuddering. "If the day before we reached thatvillage in Germany, where poor Jovial was killed, any one had said tous: 'To-morrow, you will be in prison'--we should have answered as now:'It is impossible. Is not Dagobert here to protect us; what have we tofear?' And yet, sister, the day after we were in prison at Leipsic."
"Oh! do not speak thus, my dear sister! It frightens me."
By a sympathetic impulse, the orphans took one another by the hand,while they pressed close together, and looked around with involuntaryfear. The sensation they felt was in fact deep, strange, inexplicable,and yet lowering--one of those dark presentiments which come over us,in spite of ourselves--those fatal gleams of prescience, which throw alurid light on the mysterious profundities of the future.
Unaccountable glimpses of divination! often no sooner perceived thanforgotten--but, when justified by the event, appearing with all theattributes of an awful fatality!
The daughters of Marshal Simon were still absorbed in the mournfulreverie which these singular thoughts had awakened, when Dagobert'swife, returning from her son's chamber, entered the room with apainfully agitated countenance.
