The Jew Part 11

"While the girl was growing up in this poisonous moral atmosphere, in the midst of every luxury, a young man came to the house."

"I have waited for him a long time with impatience," cried Lucie Coloni. "Behold, at last he is here!"

"Do not ask me to describe his character," said Jacob. "The heroes of true romances like this all resemble each other in general. They have external fascinations, all the virtues, all the grand and n.o.ble qualities, an affectionate heart and an exalted head, and so forth. But my hero, nevertheless, differs a little from the ordinary. He had some distinctive traits; he had been poor, and was little accustomed to _salons_. He had drawn all the forces of his success and energy from the school of humility; he was modest, peaceable, and little expansive, like all those to whom a premature sadness has proved that to ask sympathy provokes only raillery in this world. The father of Mathilde was a distant relative of this young man, and had taken him to his house to finish his education, having recognized in him a certain capacity. He intended to push his fortunes owing to a n.o.ble sentiment of relations.h.i.+p which remained in his heart, and was almost the only trace of old Judaism. He also felt some pride in protecting a young man who promised to do himself honour in the world. This promise was only partly fulfilled, for too precocious talents do not always produce the fruits that are expected of them.

"The young man, who had finished his studies and was preparing himself for business, lived in the house of his protector, who intended to send him to foreign parts to oversee his business. You may give to my hero any name you wish."

"Call him Jacob," said Ivas.

"No, no! let us call him Ja.n.u.s, the Polish equivalent for Jonas. I do not know, madame, if it is hardly worth while to relate the rest to you, for it is easy to divine. Two orphaned souls, aspiring to the poetry of life, could not meet without loving. Mathilde found in him a n.o.bleness which responded to her ideal of a man's character, and he recognized in her his ideal of melancholy beauty.

"In his protector's house it was necessary to be on guard, lest he should suspect an inclination which would cause them to be separated, and should chase Ja.n.u.s from his Paradise. The young people well understood that they must feign indifference for fear of such a catastrophe. A few words exchanged in a room full of people, on the street, or near the piano, some furtive glances,--behold the relations of the young man with Mathilde!

"The father had not the least idea that this unfortunate youth could dare to throw his eyes on an inheritance worthy of a Rothschild. If such a thought had by chance entered his head, he would have put it away as a thing impossible.

"The English governess, mature but romantic still, was very fond of these Platonic friends.h.i.+ps, and had herself even such a weakness for the young man that she hoped to fascinate him by the multiplicity of her talents. She put no restraint upon her pupil, and she even took it upon herself to a.s.sist them. His host, seeing the man[oe]uvres of Miss Burnet, for he had for these things much perspicuity, laughed in his sleeve, thinking it quite natural for Ja.n.u.s thus to commence his virile career, and never dreaming that it was his daughter to whom the youth aspired."

Jacob paused, as if short of breath, and Lucie gave him some sherbet.

There was a moment of silence, then he resumed his narrative in a weaker voice:--

"Recall, each one of you, kind listeners, your youth and the earliest flower of the springtime of your first love. Consider that angel of candour, chained unhappily to the earth, this most prosaic earth, while her wings unfold and open to carry her to heaven. The youth adored her as a divinity, and she saw in him a celestial messenger sent to her from the ethereal world. That is the romance which they held in their hearts, and which they would not manifest visibly. Two words sufficed to make them happy for a long time. A look, when they met during the day, gave them new strength to live.

"The word 'love' was never mentioned between them. The same chaste sentiment beat in unison in their hearts without inflaming their brains or their senses. For them silence even was a poem of happiness; the smile, a joy divine; and a flower was an avowal.

"These felicities, which appeared afterward like child's play, and which reason turned to raillery, pa.s.sed unperceived.

"Neither Mathilde's father nor her governess had the least suspicion of anything serious. The father even thought that, at times, his daughter was too timid and too cold toward Ja.n.u.s, and Miss Burnet reproached her for the same thing. The want of theory or of practice, I know not which, deceived her, and she supposed that it was to herself that Ja.n.u.s aspired.

"Alas! this dream of the heart, this love without hope, vanished like a dream at the gate of Paradise. One morning, or rather one afternoon, the father ordered his daughter, with a very indifferent air, to dress herself with much care, as he expected a visitor. A short time before dinner there entered a young man, distinguished, well-bred, a perfect man of the world, and whom the father presented under the name of Henri Segel.

"There are presentiments! This black-eyed Antinous, with a perpetual smile on his lips, with an amiability so spiritual and so courteous, frightened the girl. She felt for him a violent repulsion, a strange sentiment which is explained by psychology only; she detested him, although she had nothing with which to reproach him.

"He loved music, and was himself a good musician, and he was said to be enormously rich.

"Three days after, the father said quietly to his daughter, without asking her opinion, that Henri Segel was her betrothed. In announcing this he said that she was to be congratulated on having pleased Monsieur Segel, and that he had fallen desperately in love with her.

All this was in a tone which did not permit the slightest contradiction. The thing was settled; she had nothing to say about it.

"The marriage seemed to him so suitable that all hesitation or opposition would have appeared an unpardonable childishness. She ought to consider herself a very lucky girl.

"Mathilde did not reply, but she grew frightfully pale. She was congratulated on all sides, while she suffered in her heart. Her sad glance seemed to say to Jacob"--

"Pardon me," cried Ivas, "but you called him Ja.n.u.s."

Jacob blushed, drank a gla.s.s of water, wiped his brow, and seemed unable to continue his story.

"You are right," said he at last. "I was mistaken."

"Continue, monsieur,--continue, I beg of you," cried Lucie.

"It was," said the Jew, "a pleasant evening in springtime. The perfume of flowers was spread abroad, and on the leaves glistened drops of dew.

Mathilde and Miss Burnet walked in the garden. Seated on a bench, Ja.n.u.s held a book which he did not read. The Englishwoman saw him and directed their steps toward him. Happily, or perhaps unfortunately, just then there came a friend of Miss Burnet. Chance willed that the lovers were left alone together. They were both glad and frightened at this unexpected circ.u.mstance. They walked together for some time in silence, trembling and hardly breathing. The two Englishwomen had a thousand secrets to relate, and left them alone a long time. The governess had even whispered to her pupil on leaving, 'Go as far as you please.'

"They strolled along in silence. She gathered flowers, among the leaves of which her tears mingled with the dew-drops. He, pensive, looked at her and man-like held back the tears that rose to his eyes. Suddenly Mathilde stopped. She raised her head proudly, as if she had gained a victory over herself. She put her hand to her side, and threw on her kinsman a strange look in which she gave herself to him for eternity.

"'Very soon,' murmured she, 'we must separate. You know what awaits me.

It will be sweet for me to recall this evening's walk. And you, will you remember?'

"She spoke to him for the first time in a sad and solemn voice. Her expressive words went to Ja.n.u.s' heart, and he thought he should go mad.

His heart beat violently, his hands were clenched on his breast.

"'Forget you, Mathilde!' cried he. 'Forget the happiness I have tasted with you! Oh, no, never! Never! I swear to you that I will never marry another woman, for I have loved you, and I love you still, as one loves but once in life. Why need I tell you all my love when you know it already!'

"'I have believed it, and I still believe it, but life is long and memory unfaithful. For you men, it is said that love is a pastime, for us it is existence. I have loved you, and I will never cease to love you!'

"Stifled sobs interrupted her words.

"'Love could never be a plaything to me,' said Ja.n.u.s. 'In my eyes it is the most sacred thing in life. It is the marriage of two souls for eternity.'

"'I believe it,' cried Mathilde, 'and that is why I love you. I feel that you are honest and sincere; you know what awaits me. They have sold me to a man for whom I have an invincible aversion. But I will not suffer long, for I shall soon die. May your soul be the tomb where my memory will not peris.h.!.+ My father will raise for me a monument, my husband will give me a fine funeral, but my grave before long will be covered with weeds; may a memory of me remain, at least, in your heart!'

"The Englishwomen were so absorbed in their conversation that they prolonged their farewells for some time.

"'To-day,' continued Mathilde, 'I have seen you so sad that I have wished, under pretence of saying adieu, to give you some words of consolation. Who knows if we shall ever meet alone again; let me then repeat that I love you; that I love and will love you until death.'

"'Mathilde,' cried he, rebelling against their destiny, 'if you have confidence in me, leave this house. Behold two arms which can procure you bread. Your father will forgive us, and you will be mine forever.'

"'No!' she answered firmly, after an instant of reflection; 'I love you like a child, but I can reason like a mature woman. I do not believe in a future; for me the future is a lure. I should bring you, perhaps, some moments of happiness, but afterward I should be a cause of weariness and remorse. You have no right to show yourself so ungrateful to your protector, who has done much for you. Who knows whether you would not be disappointed in me. I am already fading, having been poisoned from my cradle. My unbelief awakens. I hear a mocking laugh vibrate in my ears, even when tears are in my eyes. No, no! a hundred times no! It will be better for you to love the dead, for who knows if living, you would love me long.'

"She dismissed him with a sigh, and withdrew from him as if she feared that she might be persuaded.

"After a little, she returned to Ja.n.u.s, who was lost in bitter thoughts. He had remained where she had left him, with bowed head and clasped hands.

"'What do you think of my future husband?' asked she.

"'I detest him.'

"'Is it because he is to be my husband?'

"'No. He produced this impression at first sight.'

"'And why?'

"'I know not. He is odious to me, although I know nothing against him.

He is rich, fas.h.i.+onable, very amiable. And with all that I cannot like him.'

"'I even fear,' added Mathilde, 'that he has nothing human in him. He is a being which appears to me to be utterly without heart, a sort of automaton fabricated by the nineteenth century. With all his knowledge, I am sure that he does not know how to weep, nor suffer, nor to have pity or compa.s.sion on the sorrows of others. If he gives alms, it is for ostentation or calculation; but he will not grieve for an unfortunate; he will never sympathize with him nor mingle his tears with his. Our epoch of iron has fas.h.i.+oned men worthy of herself. She has made them of iron, and the blood that courses in their veins is no longer pure, but has grown rusty.'

"'Perhaps you are a little too severe,' said Ja.n.u.s. 'However, it is the same impression that I have formed of him. But love and a wife often transform a man.'