” said the marquis; "and she is
actually
laying her
hand quite unceremoniously on her sultan's shoulder — to make
him share, no doubt, in her admiration of you ladies.
hand quite unceremoniously on her sultan's shoulder — to make
him share, no doubt, in her admiration of you ladies.
Warner - World's Best Literature - v24 - Sta to Tal
It seems to
have een lying there ever since her death. "
»
## p. 14179 (#369) ##########################################
HERMANN SUDERMANN
14179
Then they sat down together on the grave, laid the book
between them on their knees, and began to study it. Now he
remembered that Katie, at the time when he surprised her with
her lover, had spoken of a song-book which had belonged to
their mother; but he had never made up his mind to ask after
it, because he did not want to bring to life again the painful
remembrance of that hour.
All sorts of old songs were in it, copied out neatly; near
them others half scratched out and corrected. The latter she
seemed to have reproduced from memory, or perhaps composed
herself.
And directly after stood written, in big letters, this title:-
THE FAIRY TALE OF DAME CARE
THERE was once a mother, to whom the good God had given a
son; but she was so poor and lonely that she had nobody who could
stand godmother to him. And she sighed, and said, “Where shall I
get a godmother from ? »
Then one evening at dusk there came a woman to her house who
was dressed in gray and had a gray veil over her head. She said,
“I will be your son's godmother, and I will take care that he grows
up a good man, and does not let you starve; but you must give me
his soul. ”
Then his mother trembled, and said, “Who are you? ”
“I am Dame Care," answered the gray woman; and the mother
wept; but as she suffered much from hunger, she gave the woman
her son's soul, and she was his godmother.
And her son grew up and worked hard to procure her bread. But
as he had no soul, he had no joy and no youth; and often he looked
at his mother with reproachful eyes, as if he would ask:-
“Mother, where is my soul ? ”
Then the mother grew sad, and went out to find him a soul.
She asked the stars in the sky, “Will you give me a soul ? ” But
they said, “He is too low for that. ”
And she asked the flowers on the heath: they said, “He is too
ugly. ”
And she asked the birds in the trees: they said, “He is too sad. ”
And she asked the high trees: they said, “He is too humble. ”
And she asked the clever serpents; but they said, “He is too
stupid. ”
Then she went away weeping. And in the wood she met a young
and beautiful princess surrounded by her court.
(
## p. 14180 (#370) ##########################################
14180
HERMANN SUDERMANN
a
>
And because she saw the mother weeping, she descended from
her horse, and took her to the castle, which was all built of gold and
precious stones.
There she asked, “Tell me why you weep? ” And the mother
told the princess of her grief, that she could not procure her son
soul, nor joy and youth.
Then said the princess, “I cannot see anybody weep: I will tell
you something - I will give him my soul. ”
Then the mother fell down before her and kissed her hands.
“But,” said the princess, “I will not do it for nothing: he must
ask me for it. Then the mother went to her son; but Dame Care
had laid her gray veil over his head, so that he was blind and could
not see the princess.
And the mother pleaded, “Dear Dame Care, set him free. "
But Care smiled, - and whoever saw her smile was forced to
weep,- and she said, “He must free himself. ”
“How can he do that? ) asked the mother.
“He must sacrifice to me all that he loves,” said Dame Care.
Then the mother grieved very much, and lay down and died.
But the princess waits for her suitor to this very day.
>
Mother, mother! ” he cried; and sank down on the grave.
« Come,” said Elsbeth, struggling with her tears, as she laid
her hand on his shoulder; “let mother be, - she is at peace.
And she shall not harm
your wicked Dame
Care! »
us any
more
>
## p. 14181 (#371) ##########################################
14181
EUGÈNE SUE
(1804-1857)
a
a
HE fame of Eugène Sue as the author of two works, “The
Wandering Jew) and “The Mysteries of Paris,' has spread
far beyond his own country. He wrote upwards of forty
other novels; he was very much of a personage in the social and
intellectual life of his day, when romanticism was popular in the lit-
erature of several lands. But those two fictions are now his pass-
port to consideration. They were extravagantly lauded in their time;
their vogue was great. Judged critically they have faults enough;
but their conspicuous merits can be detected
almost as easily now as when they were
written, half a century ago. Detached from
their time, they have permanent qualities
for success. Sue was
man of cultiva-
tion and social position, of much and ciose
observation: he had seen many men and
many things. Moreover he was born
story-teller, who had the knack of vivid
presentation, the feeling for drama. Again,
in his middle life he became interested
in socialistic ideas, and gave attention to
the state of the Parisian working-folk,- of
the poor and outcast. He put them into his EUGÈNE SUE
fiction with lavish detail, with sympathy
and picturesque power. It was a novel thing in fiction. It gave
Sue's stories what would now be called a “purpose ” flavor. It lent
»
fascination and raison d'être to his work. Sue was, like Dumas, an
improviser, and possessed remarkable fecundity and invention.
these qualities add the instinct for portraying the weird and the
terrible, and it is not hard to understand why he was popular in his
day, and retains a good share of that popularity still.
Both his father and grandfather were distinguished surgeons in
the navy. Eugène — Marie Joseph was his baptismal name, but he
took that of Eugène because Prince Eugène Beauharnais and the
Empress Joséphine were his sponsors — was born in Paris on Decem-
ber roth, 1804, and was sent to a city school. As a lad he was full
of pranks and of a lively wit. He was educated to his father's
-
## p. 14182 (#372) ##########################################
14182
EUGÈNE SUE
profession, and when twenty-three went aboard ship as a surgeon.
Six years he spent in the navy, storing up impressions and experi-
ences. He retired upon the death of his father in 1830, which made
him heir to a large fortune. At this juncture Sue was a fashionable
young fellow, with every temptation to become an idle man-about-
town; but there was good stuff in him, and he had a desire to exer-
cise his talents.
His turning to literature seemed accidental. At the opera one
evening, a friend who edited a dramatic paper suggested to Sue a
plot for a nautical tale. The latter went home and wrote it out,
and the editor and his readers liked it. This furnished the neces-
sary impulse for a series of novels, in which Sue made use of his
naval life, introducing a good deal of exotic color - as Pierre Loti
was to do later. Plick and Plock' (1831) was the first; and (Ker-
nock the Pirate, Attar Gull,' and 'La Coucaratcha,' are other
representative works of the class. They have the negligences and
extravagances of the hasty writer of talent; and situations and heroes
have a tendency to be Byronic. Their reception was flattering. Sue
became a literary idol; not only read by the multitude, but praised
by the best critics. Sainte-Beuve declared of these earlier stories
that Sue had been the first French writer to venture on the sea
story, and to discover the Mediterranean for literature. He was
hailed as the French Cooper.
A tone of worldliness and skepticism characterized Sue at this
stage of his career,- a mood to be thrown off in subsequent and
more earnest fiction. A period was put to his use of the sea by a
five-volume History of the French Navy,' which appeared in 1837,
and would perhaps have been taken more seriously had the author's
reputation as a romancer been less firmly established. After trying
his hand at historical romances like Latréaumont' and 'Jean Cava-
lier,' Sue became imbued gradually with socialistic doctrine, and
under this influence wrote “The Mysteries of Paris (1842) and “The
Wandering Jew) (1844-5). There is no question about the boldness
and brilliancy of conception in these books, nor of their earnestness
of intention and varied attraction. The former is not so much a
close-knit novel as a great number of loosely connected episodes and
pictures. Sue is eminently episodical; his canvas is a vast one, and
he crowds it with figures. Yet such is his gift that this social kalei-
doscope leaves distinct impressions; his moving scenes enthrall the
He is facile rather than deep; but his representation of
social misery and depravity in France did good in arousing people's
minds to the facts, as did Dickens's representation of similar evils in
England. In “The Wandering Jew,' the central idea of the wretch
doomed to wander for centuries from land to land, leaving woe in his
## p. 14183 (#373) ##########################################
EUGÈNE SUE
14183
tracks, is handled allegorically to suggest the release of this symbolic
personage as typical of the future release of humanity from all its
social bondage. In this romance again Sue is rambling and diffuse,
and lacks unity of construction. But there is genuine grandeur at
times, and much that is strong and striking. Such a work must
always command a wide audience, — witness the many editions and
translations. When these two romances were given to the public, the
romanticism of Dumas the elder on the one hand, and of Hugo on
the other,— the body and soul of the romantic, — was in the air. Sue
in both manner and matter contributed to this school of writers. He
had something of the narrative gift of Dumas, and of the ethical
earnestness of Hugo.
Eugène Sue's sympathy with radicalism was illustrated in practical
life when he sat for Paris in the Assembly of 1850,— being elected
by a very large majority. The child whose sponsors were royalty,
and whose early works savored strongly of court life and intrigue,
had come a long journey. The Coup d'État of 1852 drove him into
exile at Annecy in Switzerland, where he spent the remaining years
to his death on July 3d, 1857. This final period was active so far as
the making of novels is concerned: some eight or ten stories were
published, one posthumously; but they added nothing to his reputa-
tion, though showing that the increase of years had little effect upon
his fertility. But it is Eugène Sue's production during his middle
period — the manner and motive of “The Mysteries of Paris) and
(The Wandering Jew) — that make him an attractive figure, a favor-
ite writer of romance.
THE LAND'S END OF TWO WORLDS
TE
From "The Wandering Jew)
HE Arctic Ocean encircles with a belt of eternal ice the desert
confines of Siberia and North America — the uttermost lim-
its of the Old and New Worlds, separated by the narrow
channel known as Bering's Straits.
The last days of September have arrived.
The equinox has brought with it darkness and northern
storms, and night will quickly close the short and dismal polar
day. The sky, of a dull and leaden blue, is faintly lighted by a
sun without warmth, whose white disk, scarcely seen above the
horizon, pales before the dazzling brilliancy of the snow that cov-
ers, as far as the eyes can reach, the boundless steppes.
## p. 14184 (#374) ##########################################
14184
EUGÈNE SUE
a
To the north, this desert is bounded by a ragged coast, bris.
tling with huge black rocks.
At the base of this Titanic mass lies enchained the petrified
ocean, whose spell-bound waves appear fixed as vast ranges of
ice mountains; their blue peaks fading away in the far-off frost
smoke, or snow vapor.
Between the twin peaks of Cape East, the termination of
Siberia, the sullen sea is seen to drive tall icebergs across
streak of dead green. There lies Bering's Straits.
Opposite, and towering over the channel, rise the granite
masses of Cape Prince of Wales, the headland of North America.
These lonely latitudes do not belong to the habitable world:
for the piercing cold shivers the stones, splits the trees, and
causes the earth to burst asunder; which, throwing forth showers
of icy spangles, seems capable of enduring this solitude of frost
and tempest, of famine and death.
And yet, strange to say, footprints may be traced on the
snow covering these headlands on either side of Bering's Straits.
On the American shore the footprints are small and light,
thus betraying the passage of a woman.
She has been hastening up the rocky peak, whence the drifts
of Siberia are visible.
On the latter ground, footprints larger and deeper betoken the
passing of a man. He also was on his way to the Straits.
It would seem that this man and woman had arrived here
from opposite directions, in hope of catching a glimpse of one
another across the arm of the sea dividing the two worlds — the
Old and the New.
More strange still! the man and the woman have crossed the
solitudes during a terrific storm. Black pines, the growth of
centuries, pointing their bent heads in different parts of the soli-
tude like crosses in a church-yard, have been uprooted, rent, and
hurled aside by the blasts!
Yet the two travelers face this furious tempest, which has
plucked up trees, and pounded the frozen masses into splinters,
with the roar of thunder,
They face it, without for one single instant deviating from
the straight line hitherto followed by them.
Who then are these two beings, who advance thus calmly
amidst the storms and convulsions of nature ?
## p. 14185 (#375) ##########################################
EUGÈNE SUE
14185
Is it by chance, or design, or destiny, that the seven nails in
the sole of the man's shoe form a cross — thus:
*
***
*
*
**
Everywhere he leaves this impress behind him.
On the smooth and polished snow, these footmarks seem im-
printed by a foot of brass on a marble floor.
Night without twilight has soon succeeded day — a night of
foreboding gloom.
The brilliant reflection of the snow renders the white steppes
still visible beneath the azure darkness of the sky; and the pale
stars glimmer on the obscure and frozen dome.
Solemn silence reigns.
But towards the Straits a faint light appears.
At first, a gentle, bluish light, such as precedes moonrise; it
increases in brightness, and assumes a ruddy hue.
Darkness thickens in every other direction: the white wilds of
the desert are now scarcely visible under the black vault of the
firmament.
Strange and confused noises are heard amidst this obscurity.
They sound like the fight of large night birds: now flapping
- now heavily skimming over the steppes - now descending.
But no cry is heard.
The silent terror heralds the approach of one of those impos-
ing phenomena that awe alike the most ferocious and the most
harmless of animated beings. An Aurora Borealis, (magnificent
sight! ) common in the polar regions, suddenly beams forth.
A half-circle of dazzling whiteness becomes visible in the
horizon. Immense columns of light stream forth from this daz-
zling centre, rising to a great height, illuminating earth, sea, and
sky. Then a brilliant reflection, like the blaze of a conflagration,
steals over the snow of the desert, purples the summits of the
mountains of ice, and imparts a dark-red hue to the black rocks
of both continents.
## p. 14186 (#376) ##########################################
14186
EUGÈNE SUE
After attaining this magnificent brilliancy, the Aurora faded
away gradually, and its vivid glow was lost in a luminous fog.
Just then, by a wondrous mirage, - an effect very common
in high latitudes, - the American coast, though separated from
Siberia by a broad arm of the sea, loomed so close that a bridge
might seemingly be thrown from one world to the other.
Then human forms appeared in the transparent azure haze
overspreading both forelands.
On the Siberian cape, a man
on his knees stretched his arms
towards America, with an expression of inconceivable despair.
On the American promontory, a young and handsome woman
replied to the man's despairing gesture by pointing to heaven.
For some seconds, these two tall figures stood out, pale and
shadowy, in the farewell gleams of the Aurora.
But the fog thickens, and all is lost in darkness.
Whence came the two beings, who met thus amidst polar gla-
ciers at the extremities of the Old and New Worlds ?
Who were the two creatures, brought near for a moment by a
deceitful mirage, but who seemed eternally separated ?
THE PANTHER FIGHT
From “The Wandering Jew)
T"
He pantomime opening, by which was introduced the combat
of Morok with the black panther, was so unmeaning that
the majority of the audience paid no attention to it, reserv-
ing all their interest for the scene in which the lion-tamer was
to make his appearance.
This indifference of the public explains the curiosity excited
in the theatre by the arrival of Faringhea and Djalma; a curios-
ity which expressed itself (as at this day, when uncommon foreign-
ers appear in public) by a slight murmur and general movement
amongst the crowd. The sprightly, pretty face of Rose-Pompon
— always charming, in spite of her singularly staring dress, in
style so ridiculous for such a theatre, and her light and familiar
manner towards the handsome Indian who accompanied her -
increased and animated the general surprise; for at this moment
Rose-Pompon, yielding without reserve to a movement of teas-
ing coquetry, had held up, as we have already stated, her large
## p. 14187 (#377) ##########################################
EUGÈNE SUE
14187
bunch of roses to Djalma. But the prince, at sight of the land-
scape which reminded him of his country, instead of appearing
sensible to this pretty provocation, remained for some minutes
as in a dream, with his eyes fixed upon the stage. Then Rose-
Pompon began to beat time on the front of the box with her
bouquet, whilst the somewhat too visible movement of her pretty
shoulders showed that this devoted dancer was thinking of fast-
life dances, as the orchestra struck up a more lively strain.
Placed directly opposite the box in which Faringhea, Djalma,
and Rose-Pompon had just taken their seats, Lady Morinval soon
perceived the arrival of these two personages, and particularly
the eccentric coquetries of Rose-Pompon. Immediately the young
marchioness, leaning over towards Mademoiselle de Cardoville,
who was still absorbed in memories ineffable, said to her, laugh-
ing, "My dear, the most amusing part of the performance is not
upon the stage. Look just opposite. ”
"Just opposite ? ” repeated Adrienne mechanically; and turn-
ing towards Lady Morinval with an air of surprise, she glanced
in the direction pointed out.
She looked -- what did she see ? - Djalma seated by the side
of a young woman, who was familiarly offering to his sense of
smell the perfume of her bouquet. Amazed — struck almost lit-
erally to the heart, as by an electric shock, swift, sharp, and pain-
ful— Adrienne became deadly pale. From instinct, she shut her
eyes for a second in order not to see — as men try to ward off
the dagger, which, having once dealt the blow, threatens to strike
again. Then suddenly, to this feeling of grief succeeded a reflec-
tion terrible both to her love and to her wounded pride.
“Djalma is present with this woman, though he must have
received my letter,” she said to herself, “wherein he was in-
formed of the happiness that awaited him. ”
At the idea of so cruel an insult, a blush of shame and indig-
nation displaced the paleness of Adrienne; who, overwhelmed by
this sad reality, said to herself, Rodin did not deceive me. ”
We abandon all idea of picturing the lightning-like rapidity of
certain emotions, which in a moment may torture — may kill you
in the space of a minute. Thus Adrienne was precipitated from
the most radiant happiness to the lowest depths of an abyss of
the most heart-rending grief, in less than a second; for a second
had hardly elapsed before she replied to Lady Morinval: “What
is there then so curious, opposite to us, my dear Julia ? ”
(
((
)
## p. 14188 (#378) ##########################################
14188
EUGÈNE SUE
(
This evasive question gave Adrienne time to recover her self-
possession. Fortunately, thanks to the thick folds of hair which
almost entirely concealed her cheeks, the rapid and sudden
changes from pallor to blush escaped the notice of Lady Morin-
val, who gayly replied, “What, my dear, do you not perceive
those East-Indians who have just entered the box immediately
opposite to ours? There, just before us! ”
“Yes, I see them; but what then? ” replied Adrienne in a
firm tone.
"And don't you observe anything remarkable ? ” said the mar-
chioness.
«Don't be too hard, ladies,” laughingly interposed the mar-
quis: "we ought to allow the poor foreigners some little indul.
:
gence. They are ignorant of our manners and customs: were it
not for that, they would never appear in the face of all Paris in
such dubious company. "
Indeed,” said Adrienne, with a bitter smile: «their simplicity
is touching; we must pity them. ”
"And unfortunately the girl is charming, spite of her low
dress and bare arms,” said the marchioness; "she cannot be more
than sixteen or seventeen at most. Look at her, my dear Adri-
enne; what a pity! ”
"It is one of your charitable days, my dear Julia,” answered
Adrienne: “we are to pity the Indians, to pity this creature, and
-pray, whom else are we to pity ? ”
“We will not pity that handsome Indian in his red-and-gold
turban,” said the marquis laughing; for if this goes on, the
girl with the cherry-colored ribbons will be giving him a kiss.
See how she leans towards her sultan. ”
« They are very amusing,” said the marchioness, sharing the
hilarity of her husband, and looking at Rose-Pompon through
her glass; then she resumed in about a minute, addressing herself
to Adrienne, “I am quite certain of one thing. Notwithstanding
her giddy airs, that girl is very fond of her Indian. I just saw
a look that expresses a great deal. ”
“Why so much penetration, my dear Julia ? ” said Adrienne
mildly: what interest have we in reading the heart of that
C
girl ? »
“Why, if she loves her sultan, she is quite in the right,” said
the marquis, looking through his opera-glass in turn; "for in my
whole life I never saw a more handsome fellow than that Indian.
(
## p. 14189 (#379) ##########################################
EUGÈNE SUE
14189
I can only catch his side-face, but the profile is pure and fine as
an antique cameo. Do you not think so ? ” added the marquis,
leaning towards Adrienne. “Of course it is only as a matter of
art that I permit myself to ask you the question. ”
"As a work of art,” answered Adrienne, it is certainly very
fine. ”
But see! ” said the marchioness: “how impertinent the little
creature is! She is actually staring at us. ”
“Well!
” said the marquis; "and she is actually laying her
hand quite unceremoniously on her sultan's shoulder — to make
him share, no doubt, in her admiration of you ladies. "
In fact, Djalma, until now occupied with the contemplation
of the scene which reminded him of his country, had remained
insensible to the enticements of Rose-Pompon, and had not yet
perceived Adrienne.
"Well now! ” said Rose-Pompon, bustling herself about in
front of the box, and continuing to stare at Mademoiselle de
Cardoville, — for it was she and not the marchioness who now
drew her attention: "that is something quite out of the common
way,- a pretty woman with red hair; but such a sweet red, it
must be owned. Look, Prince Charming! ”
And so saying, she tapped Djalma lightly on the shoulder: he
started at these words, turned round, and for the first time per-
ceived Mademoiselle de Cardoville.
Though he had been almost prepared for this meeting, the
prince was so violently affected by it that he was about involun-
tarily to rise, in a state of the utmost confusion; but he felt the
iron hand of Faringhea laid heavily on his shoulder, and heard
him whisper in Hindostanee, “Courage! and by to-morrow she
will be at your feet. ”
As Djalma still struggled to rise, the half-caste added, to re-
strain him, “Just now she grew pale and red with jealousy. No
weakness, or all is lost! ”
« So! there you are again, talking your dreadful gibberish,”
said Rose-Pompon, turning round toward Faringhea. "First of
all, it is not polite; and then the language is so odd, that one
might suppose you were cracking nuts. ”
"I spoke of you to my master,” said the half-caste: “he is
preparing a surprise for you. ”
"A surprise ? oh! that is different. Only make haste- do you
.
hear, Prince Charming! ” added she, looking tenderly at Djalma.
(
»
## p. 14190 (#380) ##########################################
14190
EUGÈNE SUE
(
"My heart is breaking,” said Djalma, in a hollow voice to
Faringhea, still using the language of India.
“But to-morrow it will bound with joy and love," answered
the half-caste. It is only by disdain that you can conquer a
proud woman. To-morrow, I tell you, she will be trembling, con-
fused, supplicating, at your feet! ”
« To-morrow she will hate me like death replied the prince
«?
mournfully.
“Yes, were she now to see you weak and cowardly. It is
now too late to draw back: look full at her, take the nosegay
from this girl, and raise it to your lips. Instantly you will see
yonder woman, proud as she is, grow pale and red, as just now.
Then will you believe me? ”
Reduced by despair to make almost any attempt, and fasci.
nated in spite of himself by the diabolical hints of Faringhea,
Djalma looked for a second full at Mademoiselle de Cardoville;
then with a trembling hand he took the bouquet from Rose-
Pompon, and again looking at Adrienne, pressed it to his lips.
Upon this insolent bravado, Mademoiselle de Cardoville could
not restrain so sudden and visible a pang that the prince was
struck by it.
"She is yours," said the half-caste to him.
my lord, how she trembled with jealousy? Only have courage,
and she is yours.
She would soon prefer you to that handsome
young man behind her— for it is he whom she has hitherto fan-
cied herself in love with. ”
As if the half-caste had guessed the movement of rage and
hatred which this revelation would excite in the heart of the
prince, he hastily added, “Calmness and disdain! Is it not his
turn now to hate you ? »
The prince restrained himself, and drew his hand across his
forehead, which glowed with anger.
“There now! what are you telling him that vexes him so ? ”
said Rose-Pompon to Faringhea, with pouting lip. Then address-
ing Djalma, she continued, “Come, Prince Charming, as they say
in the fairy tale,- give me back my flowers. ”
As she took the bouquet again, she added, “You have kissed it,
and I could almost eat it. ” Then with a sigh, and a passion-
ate glance at Djalma, she said softly to herself, “That monster
Ninny Moulin did not deceive me. All this is quite proper; I
have not even that to reproach myself with. ” And with her little
>
« Did you see,
»
## p. 14191 (#381) ##########################################
EUGÈNE SUE
14191
white teeth she bit at a rosy nail of her right hand, from which
she had just drawn the glove.
It is hardly necessary to say that Adrienne's letter had not
been delivered to the prince, and that he had not gone to pass
the day in the country with Marshal Simon. During the three
days in which Montbron had not seen Djalma, Faringhea had
persuaded him that by affecting another passion, he would bring
Mademoiselle de Cardoville to terms. With regard to Djalma's
presence at the theatre, Rodin had learned from her maid Flo-
rine that her mistress was to go in the evening to the Porte-Saint-
Martin. Before Djalma had recognized her, Adrienne, who felt
her strength failing her, was on the point of quitting the theatre:
the man whom she had hitherto placed so high, whom she had
regarded as a hero and a demigod, and whom she had imagined
plunged in such dreadful despair that, led by the most tender
pity, she had written to him with simple frankness, that a sweet
hope might calm his grief,— replied to a generous mark of sin-
cerity and love by making himself a ridiculous spectacle with a
creature unworthy of him.
What incurable wounds for Adrienne's pride! It mattered
little whether Djalma knew or not that she would be a spec-
tator of the indignity. But when she saw herself recognized by
the prince, when he carried the insult so far as to look full at
her, and at the same time raise to his lips the bouquet of the
creature who accompanied him, Adrienne was seized with noble
indignation, and felt sufficient courage to remain; instead of clos-
ing her eyes to evidence, she found a sort of barbarous pleas-
ure in assisting at the agony and death of her pure and divine
love. With head erect, proud and flashing eye, flushed cheek,
and curling lip, she looked in her turn at the prince with dis-
dafnful steadiness. It was with a sardonic smile that she said
to the marchioness, who, like many others of the spectators, was
occupied with what was passing in the stage-box, “This revolt-
ing exhibition of savage manners is at least in accordance with
the rest of the performance. ”
"Certainly,” said the marchioness; and my dear uncle will
have lost, perhaps, the most amusing part. ”
« Montbron ? ” said Adrienne hastily, with hardly repressed
bitterness: "yes, he will regret not having seen all. I am im-
I
patient for his arrival. Is it not to him that I am indebted for
I
this charming evening ? ”
»
## p. 14192 (#382) ##########################################
14192
EUGÈNE SUE
Perhaps Madame de Morinval would have remarked the ex-
pression of bitter irony that Adrienne could not altogether dis-
semble, if suddenly a hoarse and prolonged roar had not attracted
her attention, as well as that of the rest of the audience, who
had hitherto been quite indifferent to the scenes intended for an
introduction to the appearance of Morok. Every eye was now
turned instinctively towards the cavern, situated to the left of the
stage, just below Mademoiselle de Cardoville's box; a thrill of
curiosity ran through the house.
A second roar, deeper and more sonorous, and apparently ex.
pressive of more irritation, than the first, now rose from the cave;
the mouth of which was half hidden by artificial brambles, made
so as to be easily put on one side. At this sound the English-
man stood up in his little box, leaned half over the front, and
began to rub his hands with great energy; then remaining per-
fectly motionless, he fixed his large, green, glittering eyes on
the mouth of the cavern.
At these ferocious howlings, Djalma also had started, notwith-
standing the frenzy of love, hate, and jealousy to which he was
a prey. The sight of this forest, and the roarings of the panther,
filled him with deep emotion; for they recalled the remembrance
of his country, and of those great hunts which, like war, have
their own terrible excitement. Had he suddenly heard the horns
and gongs of his father's army sounding to the charge, he could
not have been transported with more savage ardor. And now
deep growls, like distant thunder, almost drowned the roar of
the panther. The lion and tiger, Judas and Cain, answered her
.
from their dens at the back of the stage. On this frightful con-
cert, with which his ears had been familiar in the midst of the
solitudes of India, when he lay encamped for the purposes of
the chase or of war, Djalma's blood boiled in his veins. His
eyes sparkled with a wild ardor. Leaning a little forward, with
both hands pressed on the front of the box, his whole body
trembled with a convulsive shudder. The audience, the theatre,
Adrienne herself, no longer existed for him: he was in a forest
of his own lands, tracking the tiger.
Then there mingled with his beauty so intrepid and ferocious
an expression, that Rose-Pompon looked at him with a sort of
terror and passionate admiration. For the first time in her life,
perhaps, her pretty blue eyes, generally so gay and mischiev-
ous, expressed a serious emotion. She could not explain what
## p. 14193 (#383) ##########################################
S EUGÈNE SUE
14193
ern.
»
she felt; but her heart seemed tightened, and beat violently, as
though some calamity were at hand.
Yielding to a movement of involuntary fear, she seized Djalma
by the arm, and said to him, “Do not stare so into that cavern;
you frighten me. ”
Djalma did not hear what she said.
“Here he is! here he is! ” murmured the crowd, almost with
one voice, as Morok appeared at the back of the stage.
Dressed as we have described, Morok now carried in addition
a bow and a long quiver full of arrows. He slowly descended
the line of painted rocks, which came sloping down towards the
centre of the stage. From time to time, he stopped as if to
listen, and appeared to advance with caution. Looking from one
side to the other, his eyes involuntarily encountered the large
green eyes of the Englishman, whose box was close to the cav-
Instantly the lion-tamer's countenance was contracted in so
frightful a manner that Lady Morinval, who was examining him
closely with the aid of an excellent glass, said hastily to Adrienne,
" “My dear, the man is afraid. Some misfortune will happen. ”
“How can accidents happen,” said Adrienne with a sardonic
smile, in the midst of this brilliant crowd, so well dressed and
full of animation! Misfortunes here this evening! why, dear
Julia, you do not think it. It is in darkness and solitude that
misfortunes come, - never in the midst of a joyous crowd, and in
all this blaze of light. ”
"Good gracious, Adrienne! take care! ” cried the marchioness,
unable to repress an exclamation of alarm, and seizing her arm
as if to draw her closer: “do you not see it ? » And with a
trembling hand she pointed to the cavern's mouth. Adrienne
hastily bent forward, and looked in that direction.
« Take care,
do not lean forward so! ” exclaimed Lady Morinval.
“Your terrors are nonsensical, my dear,” said the marquis to
his wife. “The panther is securely chained; and even were it to
break its chain, which is impossible, we are beyond its reach. ”
A long murmur of trembling curiosity here ran through the
house, and every eye was intently fixed on the cavern. From
amongst the artificial brambles, which she abruptly pushed aside
with her broad chest, the black panther suddenly appeared.
Twice she stretched forth her flat head, illumined by yellow,
flaming eyes; then, half opening her blood-red jaws, she uttered
XXIV-888
## p. 14194 (#384) ##########################################
14194
EUGÈNE SUE
>
another roar, and exhibited two rows of formidable fangs. A
double iron chain, and a collar also of iron, painted black, blended
with the ebon shades of her hide, and with the darkness of
the cavern. The illusion was complete, and the terrible animal
seemed to be at liberty in her den.
<<
"Ladies,” said the marquis suddenly, “look at those Indians.
Their emotion makes them superb! ”
In fact, the sight of the panther had raised the wild ardor
of Djalma to its utmost pitch. His eyes sparkled in their pearly
orbits like two black diamonds; his upper lip was curled convuls-
ively with an expression of animal ferocity, as if he were in a
violent paroxysm of rage.
Faringhea, now leaning on the front of the box, was also
greatly excited, by reason of a strange coincidence. «That black
panther of so rare a breed,” thought he, which I see here at
Paris upon a stage, must be the very one that the Malay”
(the Thug who had tattooed Djalma at Java during his sleep)
"took quite young from his den, and sold to a European cap-
tain. Bowanee's power is everywhere! ” added the Thug, in his
sanguinary superstition.
"Do you not think,” resumed the marquis, addressing Adri-
enne, “that those Indians are really splendid in their present atti-
tude ? »
Perhaps they may have seen such a hunt in their own coun-
try,” said Adrienne, as if she would recall and brave the most
cruel remembrances.
“Adrienne,” said the marchioness suddenly, in an agitated
voice, “the lion-tamer has now come nearer is not his coun-
tenance fearful to look at ? I tell you he is afraid. ”
«In truth,” observed the marquis, this time very seriously,
“he is dreadfully pale, and seems to grow worse every minute,
the nearer he approaches this side. It is said that were he to
lose his presence of mind for a single moment, he would run the
greatest danger. ”
«Oh! it would be horrible, cried the marchioness, addressing
Adrienne, “if he were wounded there - under our eyes! ”
" Every wound does not kill,” replied her friend, with an
accent of such cold indifference that the marchioness looked at
her with surprise, and said to her, “My dear girl, what you say
is cruel! ”
(
(
>
## p. 14195 (#385) ##########################################
EUGÈNE SUE
14195
>
“It is the air of the place that acts on me," answered Adri-
enne with an icy smile.
“Look! look! the lion-tamer is about to shoot his arrow at
the panther,” said the marquis suddenly. “No doubt he will
next perform the hand-to-hand grapple. ”
Morok was at this moment in front of the stage, but he had
yet to traverse its entire breadth to reach the cavern's mouth.
He stopped an instant, adjusted an arrow to the string, knelt
down behind a mass of rock, took deliberate aim — and then the
arrow hissed across the stage, and was lost in the depths of
the cavern, into which the panther had retired, after showing
for a moment her threatening head to the audience. Hardly had
the arrow disappeared, than Death, purposely irritated by Goliath
(who was invisible), sent forth a howl of rage, as if she had
been really wounded. Morok's actions became so expressive, he
evinced so naturally his joy at having hit the wild beast, that
a tempest of applause burst from every quarter of the house.
Then throwing away his bow, he drew a dagger from his girdle,
took it between his teeth, and began to crawl forward on hands
and knees, as though he meant to surprise the wounded panther
in his den. To render the illusion perfect, Death, again excited
by Goliath, who struck him with an iron bar, sent forth fright-
ful howlings from the depths of the cavern.
The gloomy aspect of the forest, only half lighted with a red-
dish glare, was so effective, the howlings of the panther were so
furious, the gestures, attitude, and countenance of Morok were
so expressive of terror, that the audience, attentive and trem-
bling, now maintained a profound silence. Every one held his
a
breath; and a kind of shudder came over the spectators, as
though they expected some horrible event. What gave such a
fearful air of truth to the pantomime of Morok was that, as he
approached the cavern step by step, he approached also the Eng-
lishman's box. In spite of himself, the lion-tamer, fascinated by
terror, could not take his eyes from the large green eyes of this
man; and it seemed as if every one of the abrupt movements
which he made in crawling along was produced by a species of
magnetic attraction, caused by the fixed gaze of the fatal wa-
gerer. Therefore the nearer Morok approached, the more ghastly
and livid he became. At sight of this pantomime, which was no
longer acting, but the real expression of intense fear, the deep
## p. 14196 (#386) ##########################################
14196
EUGÈNE SUE
upon her.
and trembling silence which had reigned in the theatre was once
more interrupted by cheers, with which were mingled the roar-
ings of the panther, and the distant growls of the lion and tiger.
The Englishman leaned almost out of his box, with a fright-
ful sardonic smile on his lip; and with his large eyes still fixed,
panted for breath. The perspiration ran down his bald red fore-
head, as if he had really expended an incredible amount of mag-
netic power in attracting Morok, whom he now saw close to the
cavern entrance. The moment was decisive. Crouching down
with his dagger in his hand, following with eye and gesture
every movement of Death,— who, roaring furiously, and open-
ing wide her enormous jaws, seemed determined to guard the
entrance of her den,- Morok waited for the moment to rush
There is such fascination in danger, that Adrienne
shared in spite of herself the feeling of painful curiosity, mixed
with terror, that thrilled through all the spectators. Leaning for-
ward like the marchioness, and gazing upon this scene of fearful
interest, the lady still held mechanically in her hand the Indian
bouquet preserved since the morning. Suddenly Morok raised
a wild shout, as he rushed towards Death; who answered this
exclamation by a dreadful roar, and threw herself upon her
master with so much fury that Adrienne, in alarm, believing
the man lost, drew herself back, and covered her face with her
hands. Her Aowers slipped from her grasp, and falling upon
the stage, rolled into the cavern in which Morok was struggling
with the panther.
Quick as lightning, supple and agile as a tiger, yielding to
,
the intoxication of his love, and to the wild ardor excited in
him by the roaring of the panther, Djalma sprang at one bound
upon the stage, drew his dagger, and rushed into the cavern
to recover Adrienne's nosegay. At that instant Morok, being
wounded, uttered a dreadful cry for help; the panther, rendered
still more furious at sight of Djalma, made the most desperate
efforts to break her chain. Unable to succeed in doing so, she
rose upon her hind legs, in order to seize Djalma, then within
reach of her sharp claws. It was only by bending down his
head, throwing himself on his knees, and twice plunging his
dagger into her belly with the rapidity of lightning, that Djalma
escaped certain death. The panther gave a howl, and fell with
her whole weight upon the prince. For a second, during which
1
## p. 14197 (#387) ##########################################
EUGÈNE SUE
14197
lasted her terrible agony, nothing was seen but a confused and
convulsive mass of black limbs, and white garments stained
with blood: and then Djalma rose, pale, bleeding – for he was
wounded; and standing erect, his eye flashing with savage pride,
his foot on the body of the panther, he held in his hand Adri-
enne's bouquet, and cast towards her a glance which told the
intensity of his love. Then only did Adrienne feel her strength
fail her; for only superhuman courage had enabled her to watch
all the terrible incidents of the struggle.
THE CHASTISEMENT
From «The Wandering Jew)
I
-
T is night. The moon shines and the stars glimmer in the
midst of a serene but cheerless sky; the sharp whistlings
of the north wind - that fatal dry and icy breeze-ever and
anon burst forth in violent gusts.
With its harsh and cutting
breath it sweeps the Heights of Montmartre. On the highest
point of the hills a man is standing. His long shadow is cast
upon the stony, moonlit ground. He gazes on the immense city
which lies outspread beneath his feet,- Paris, - with the dark
outline of its towers, cupolas, domes, and steeples, standing out
from the limpid blue of the horizon, while from the midst of the
ocean of masonry rises a luminous vapor, that reddens the starry
azure of the sky. It is the distant reflection of the thousand
fires which at night, the hour of pleasures, light up so joyously
the noisy capital.
“No,” said the wayfarer: “it is not to be. The Lord will not
exact it. Is not twice enough?
“Five centuſies ago, the avenging hand of the Almighty
drove me hither from the uttermost confines of Asia. A solitary
traveler, I had left behind me more grief, despair, disaster, and
death, than the innumerable armies of a hundred devastating
conquerors. I entered this town, and it too was decimated.
"Again, two centuries ago, the inexorable hand which leads
me through the world brought me once more hither; and then,
as the time before, the plague, which the Almighty attaches to
my steps, again ravaged this city, and fell first on my brethren,
already worn out with labor and misery.
(
## p. 14198 (#388) ##########################################
14198
EUGÈNE SUE
-
(
«My brethren - mine! - the cobbler of Jerusalem, the artisan
accursed by the Lord, who in my person condemned the whole
race of workmen, ever suffering, ever disinherited, ever in slav-
ery, toiling on like me, without rest or pause, without recompense
or hope, till men, women, and children, young and old, all die
beneath the same iron yoke, - that murderous yoke, which others
take in their turn, thus to be borne from age to age on the sub-
missive and bruised shoulders of the masses.
"And now, for the third time in five centuries, I reach the
summit of one of the hills that overlook the city. And perhaps
I again bring with me fear, desolation, and death.
« Yet this city, intoxicated with the sounds of its joys and its
nocturnal revelries, does not know — oh! does not know that I
am at its gates.
“But no, no! my presence will not be a new calamity. The
Lord, in his impenetrable views, has hitherto led me through
France so as to avoid the humblest hamlet; and the sound of
the funeral knell has not accompanied my passage.
"And moreover, the spectre has left me the green, livid
spectre, with its hollow bloodshot eyes. When I touched the soil
I
of France, its damp and icy hand was no longer clasped in mine
and it disappeared.
"And yet I feel that the atmosphere of death is around me.
“The sharp whistlings of that fatal wind cease not, which,
catching me in their whirl, seem to propagate blasting and mil.
dew as they blow.
“But perhaps the wrath of the Lord is appeased, and my pres.
ence here is only a threat — to be communicated in some way to
those whom it should intimidate.
Yes; for otherwise he would smite with a fearful blow, by
first scattering terror and death here in the heart of the country,
in the bosom of this immense city!
“Oh! no, no! the Lord will be merciful.
have een lying there ever since her death. "
»
## p. 14179 (#369) ##########################################
HERMANN SUDERMANN
14179
Then they sat down together on the grave, laid the book
between them on their knees, and began to study it. Now he
remembered that Katie, at the time when he surprised her with
her lover, had spoken of a song-book which had belonged to
their mother; but he had never made up his mind to ask after
it, because he did not want to bring to life again the painful
remembrance of that hour.
All sorts of old songs were in it, copied out neatly; near
them others half scratched out and corrected. The latter she
seemed to have reproduced from memory, or perhaps composed
herself.
And directly after stood written, in big letters, this title:-
THE FAIRY TALE OF DAME CARE
THERE was once a mother, to whom the good God had given a
son; but she was so poor and lonely that she had nobody who could
stand godmother to him. And she sighed, and said, “Where shall I
get a godmother from ? »
Then one evening at dusk there came a woman to her house who
was dressed in gray and had a gray veil over her head. She said,
“I will be your son's godmother, and I will take care that he grows
up a good man, and does not let you starve; but you must give me
his soul. ”
Then his mother trembled, and said, “Who are you? ”
“I am Dame Care," answered the gray woman; and the mother
wept; but as she suffered much from hunger, she gave the woman
her son's soul, and she was his godmother.
And her son grew up and worked hard to procure her bread. But
as he had no soul, he had no joy and no youth; and often he looked
at his mother with reproachful eyes, as if he would ask:-
“Mother, where is my soul ? ”
Then the mother grew sad, and went out to find him a soul.
She asked the stars in the sky, “Will you give me a soul ? ” But
they said, “He is too low for that. ”
And she asked the flowers on the heath: they said, “He is too
ugly. ”
And she asked the birds in the trees: they said, “He is too sad. ”
And she asked the high trees: they said, “He is too humble. ”
And she asked the clever serpents; but they said, “He is too
stupid. ”
Then she went away weeping. And in the wood she met a young
and beautiful princess surrounded by her court.
(
## p. 14180 (#370) ##########################################
14180
HERMANN SUDERMANN
a
>
And because she saw the mother weeping, she descended from
her horse, and took her to the castle, which was all built of gold and
precious stones.
There she asked, “Tell me why you weep? ” And the mother
told the princess of her grief, that she could not procure her son
soul, nor joy and youth.
Then said the princess, “I cannot see anybody weep: I will tell
you something - I will give him my soul. ”
Then the mother fell down before her and kissed her hands.
“But,” said the princess, “I will not do it for nothing: he must
ask me for it. Then the mother went to her son; but Dame Care
had laid her gray veil over his head, so that he was blind and could
not see the princess.
And the mother pleaded, “Dear Dame Care, set him free. "
But Care smiled, - and whoever saw her smile was forced to
weep,- and she said, “He must free himself. ”
“How can he do that? ) asked the mother.
“He must sacrifice to me all that he loves,” said Dame Care.
Then the mother grieved very much, and lay down and died.
But the princess waits for her suitor to this very day.
>
Mother, mother! ” he cried; and sank down on the grave.
« Come,” said Elsbeth, struggling with her tears, as she laid
her hand on his shoulder; “let mother be, - she is at peace.
And she shall not harm
your wicked Dame
Care! »
us any
more
>
## p. 14181 (#371) ##########################################
14181
EUGÈNE SUE
(1804-1857)
a
a
HE fame of Eugène Sue as the author of two works, “The
Wandering Jew) and “The Mysteries of Paris,' has spread
far beyond his own country. He wrote upwards of forty
other novels; he was very much of a personage in the social and
intellectual life of his day, when romanticism was popular in the lit-
erature of several lands. But those two fictions are now his pass-
port to consideration. They were extravagantly lauded in their time;
their vogue was great. Judged critically they have faults enough;
but their conspicuous merits can be detected
almost as easily now as when they were
written, half a century ago. Detached from
their time, they have permanent qualities
for success. Sue was
man of cultiva-
tion and social position, of much and ciose
observation: he had seen many men and
many things. Moreover he was born
story-teller, who had the knack of vivid
presentation, the feeling for drama. Again,
in his middle life he became interested
in socialistic ideas, and gave attention to
the state of the Parisian working-folk,- of
the poor and outcast. He put them into his EUGÈNE SUE
fiction with lavish detail, with sympathy
and picturesque power. It was a novel thing in fiction. It gave
Sue's stories what would now be called a “purpose ” flavor. It lent
»
fascination and raison d'être to his work. Sue was, like Dumas, an
improviser, and possessed remarkable fecundity and invention.
these qualities add the instinct for portraying the weird and the
terrible, and it is not hard to understand why he was popular in his
day, and retains a good share of that popularity still.
Both his father and grandfather were distinguished surgeons in
the navy. Eugène — Marie Joseph was his baptismal name, but he
took that of Eugène because Prince Eugène Beauharnais and the
Empress Joséphine were his sponsors — was born in Paris on Decem-
ber roth, 1804, and was sent to a city school. As a lad he was full
of pranks and of a lively wit. He was educated to his father's
-
## p. 14182 (#372) ##########################################
14182
EUGÈNE SUE
profession, and when twenty-three went aboard ship as a surgeon.
Six years he spent in the navy, storing up impressions and experi-
ences. He retired upon the death of his father in 1830, which made
him heir to a large fortune. At this juncture Sue was a fashionable
young fellow, with every temptation to become an idle man-about-
town; but there was good stuff in him, and he had a desire to exer-
cise his talents.
His turning to literature seemed accidental. At the opera one
evening, a friend who edited a dramatic paper suggested to Sue a
plot for a nautical tale. The latter went home and wrote it out,
and the editor and his readers liked it. This furnished the neces-
sary impulse for a series of novels, in which Sue made use of his
naval life, introducing a good deal of exotic color - as Pierre Loti
was to do later. Plick and Plock' (1831) was the first; and (Ker-
nock the Pirate, Attar Gull,' and 'La Coucaratcha,' are other
representative works of the class. They have the negligences and
extravagances of the hasty writer of talent; and situations and heroes
have a tendency to be Byronic. Their reception was flattering. Sue
became a literary idol; not only read by the multitude, but praised
by the best critics. Sainte-Beuve declared of these earlier stories
that Sue had been the first French writer to venture on the sea
story, and to discover the Mediterranean for literature. He was
hailed as the French Cooper.
A tone of worldliness and skepticism characterized Sue at this
stage of his career,- a mood to be thrown off in subsequent and
more earnest fiction. A period was put to his use of the sea by a
five-volume History of the French Navy,' which appeared in 1837,
and would perhaps have been taken more seriously had the author's
reputation as a romancer been less firmly established. After trying
his hand at historical romances like Latréaumont' and 'Jean Cava-
lier,' Sue became imbued gradually with socialistic doctrine, and
under this influence wrote “The Mysteries of Paris (1842) and “The
Wandering Jew) (1844-5). There is no question about the boldness
and brilliancy of conception in these books, nor of their earnestness
of intention and varied attraction. The former is not so much a
close-knit novel as a great number of loosely connected episodes and
pictures. Sue is eminently episodical; his canvas is a vast one, and
he crowds it with figures. Yet such is his gift that this social kalei-
doscope leaves distinct impressions; his moving scenes enthrall the
He is facile rather than deep; but his representation of
social misery and depravity in France did good in arousing people's
minds to the facts, as did Dickens's representation of similar evils in
England. In “The Wandering Jew,' the central idea of the wretch
doomed to wander for centuries from land to land, leaving woe in his
## p. 14183 (#373) ##########################################
EUGÈNE SUE
14183
tracks, is handled allegorically to suggest the release of this symbolic
personage as typical of the future release of humanity from all its
social bondage. In this romance again Sue is rambling and diffuse,
and lacks unity of construction. But there is genuine grandeur at
times, and much that is strong and striking. Such a work must
always command a wide audience, — witness the many editions and
translations. When these two romances were given to the public, the
romanticism of Dumas the elder on the one hand, and of Hugo on
the other,— the body and soul of the romantic, — was in the air. Sue
in both manner and matter contributed to this school of writers. He
had something of the narrative gift of Dumas, and of the ethical
earnestness of Hugo.
Eugène Sue's sympathy with radicalism was illustrated in practical
life when he sat for Paris in the Assembly of 1850,— being elected
by a very large majority. The child whose sponsors were royalty,
and whose early works savored strongly of court life and intrigue,
had come a long journey. The Coup d'État of 1852 drove him into
exile at Annecy in Switzerland, where he spent the remaining years
to his death on July 3d, 1857. This final period was active so far as
the making of novels is concerned: some eight or ten stories were
published, one posthumously; but they added nothing to his reputa-
tion, though showing that the increase of years had little effect upon
his fertility. But it is Eugène Sue's production during his middle
period — the manner and motive of “The Mysteries of Paris) and
(The Wandering Jew) — that make him an attractive figure, a favor-
ite writer of romance.
THE LAND'S END OF TWO WORLDS
TE
From "The Wandering Jew)
HE Arctic Ocean encircles with a belt of eternal ice the desert
confines of Siberia and North America — the uttermost lim-
its of the Old and New Worlds, separated by the narrow
channel known as Bering's Straits.
The last days of September have arrived.
The equinox has brought with it darkness and northern
storms, and night will quickly close the short and dismal polar
day. The sky, of a dull and leaden blue, is faintly lighted by a
sun without warmth, whose white disk, scarcely seen above the
horizon, pales before the dazzling brilliancy of the snow that cov-
ers, as far as the eyes can reach, the boundless steppes.
## p. 14184 (#374) ##########################################
14184
EUGÈNE SUE
a
To the north, this desert is bounded by a ragged coast, bris.
tling with huge black rocks.
At the base of this Titanic mass lies enchained the petrified
ocean, whose spell-bound waves appear fixed as vast ranges of
ice mountains; their blue peaks fading away in the far-off frost
smoke, or snow vapor.
Between the twin peaks of Cape East, the termination of
Siberia, the sullen sea is seen to drive tall icebergs across
streak of dead green. There lies Bering's Straits.
Opposite, and towering over the channel, rise the granite
masses of Cape Prince of Wales, the headland of North America.
These lonely latitudes do not belong to the habitable world:
for the piercing cold shivers the stones, splits the trees, and
causes the earth to burst asunder; which, throwing forth showers
of icy spangles, seems capable of enduring this solitude of frost
and tempest, of famine and death.
And yet, strange to say, footprints may be traced on the
snow covering these headlands on either side of Bering's Straits.
On the American shore the footprints are small and light,
thus betraying the passage of a woman.
She has been hastening up the rocky peak, whence the drifts
of Siberia are visible.
On the latter ground, footprints larger and deeper betoken the
passing of a man. He also was on his way to the Straits.
It would seem that this man and woman had arrived here
from opposite directions, in hope of catching a glimpse of one
another across the arm of the sea dividing the two worlds — the
Old and the New.
More strange still! the man and the woman have crossed the
solitudes during a terrific storm. Black pines, the growth of
centuries, pointing their bent heads in different parts of the soli-
tude like crosses in a church-yard, have been uprooted, rent, and
hurled aside by the blasts!
Yet the two travelers face this furious tempest, which has
plucked up trees, and pounded the frozen masses into splinters,
with the roar of thunder,
They face it, without for one single instant deviating from
the straight line hitherto followed by them.
Who then are these two beings, who advance thus calmly
amidst the storms and convulsions of nature ?
## p. 14185 (#375) ##########################################
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Is it by chance, or design, or destiny, that the seven nails in
the sole of the man's shoe form a cross — thus:
*
***
*
*
**
Everywhere he leaves this impress behind him.
On the smooth and polished snow, these footmarks seem im-
printed by a foot of brass on a marble floor.
Night without twilight has soon succeeded day — a night of
foreboding gloom.
The brilliant reflection of the snow renders the white steppes
still visible beneath the azure darkness of the sky; and the pale
stars glimmer on the obscure and frozen dome.
Solemn silence reigns.
But towards the Straits a faint light appears.
At first, a gentle, bluish light, such as precedes moonrise; it
increases in brightness, and assumes a ruddy hue.
Darkness thickens in every other direction: the white wilds of
the desert are now scarcely visible under the black vault of the
firmament.
Strange and confused noises are heard amidst this obscurity.
They sound like the fight of large night birds: now flapping
- now heavily skimming over the steppes - now descending.
But no cry is heard.
The silent terror heralds the approach of one of those impos-
ing phenomena that awe alike the most ferocious and the most
harmless of animated beings. An Aurora Borealis, (magnificent
sight! ) common in the polar regions, suddenly beams forth.
A half-circle of dazzling whiteness becomes visible in the
horizon. Immense columns of light stream forth from this daz-
zling centre, rising to a great height, illuminating earth, sea, and
sky. Then a brilliant reflection, like the blaze of a conflagration,
steals over the snow of the desert, purples the summits of the
mountains of ice, and imparts a dark-red hue to the black rocks
of both continents.
## p. 14186 (#376) ##########################################
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EUGÈNE SUE
After attaining this magnificent brilliancy, the Aurora faded
away gradually, and its vivid glow was lost in a luminous fog.
Just then, by a wondrous mirage, - an effect very common
in high latitudes, - the American coast, though separated from
Siberia by a broad arm of the sea, loomed so close that a bridge
might seemingly be thrown from one world to the other.
Then human forms appeared in the transparent azure haze
overspreading both forelands.
On the Siberian cape, a man
on his knees stretched his arms
towards America, with an expression of inconceivable despair.
On the American promontory, a young and handsome woman
replied to the man's despairing gesture by pointing to heaven.
For some seconds, these two tall figures stood out, pale and
shadowy, in the farewell gleams of the Aurora.
But the fog thickens, and all is lost in darkness.
Whence came the two beings, who met thus amidst polar gla-
ciers at the extremities of the Old and New Worlds ?
Who were the two creatures, brought near for a moment by a
deceitful mirage, but who seemed eternally separated ?
THE PANTHER FIGHT
From “The Wandering Jew)
T"
He pantomime opening, by which was introduced the combat
of Morok with the black panther, was so unmeaning that
the majority of the audience paid no attention to it, reserv-
ing all their interest for the scene in which the lion-tamer was
to make his appearance.
This indifference of the public explains the curiosity excited
in the theatre by the arrival of Faringhea and Djalma; a curios-
ity which expressed itself (as at this day, when uncommon foreign-
ers appear in public) by a slight murmur and general movement
amongst the crowd. The sprightly, pretty face of Rose-Pompon
— always charming, in spite of her singularly staring dress, in
style so ridiculous for such a theatre, and her light and familiar
manner towards the handsome Indian who accompanied her -
increased and animated the general surprise; for at this moment
Rose-Pompon, yielding without reserve to a movement of teas-
ing coquetry, had held up, as we have already stated, her large
## p. 14187 (#377) ##########################################
EUGÈNE SUE
14187
bunch of roses to Djalma. But the prince, at sight of the land-
scape which reminded him of his country, instead of appearing
sensible to this pretty provocation, remained for some minutes
as in a dream, with his eyes fixed upon the stage. Then Rose-
Pompon began to beat time on the front of the box with her
bouquet, whilst the somewhat too visible movement of her pretty
shoulders showed that this devoted dancer was thinking of fast-
life dances, as the orchestra struck up a more lively strain.
Placed directly opposite the box in which Faringhea, Djalma,
and Rose-Pompon had just taken their seats, Lady Morinval soon
perceived the arrival of these two personages, and particularly
the eccentric coquetries of Rose-Pompon. Immediately the young
marchioness, leaning over towards Mademoiselle de Cardoville,
who was still absorbed in memories ineffable, said to her, laugh-
ing, "My dear, the most amusing part of the performance is not
upon the stage. Look just opposite. ”
"Just opposite ? ” repeated Adrienne mechanically; and turn-
ing towards Lady Morinval with an air of surprise, she glanced
in the direction pointed out.
She looked -- what did she see ? - Djalma seated by the side
of a young woman, who was familiarly offering to his sense of
smell the perfume of her bouquet. Amazed — struck almost lit-
erally to the heart, as by an electric shock, swift, sharp, and pain-
ful— Adrienne became deadly pale. From instinct, she shut her
eyes for a second in order not to see — as men try to ward off
the dagger, which, having once dealt the blow, threatens to strike
again. Then suddenly, to this feeling of grief succeeded a reflec-
tion terrible both to her love and to her wounded pride.
“Djalma is present with this woman, though he must have
received my letter,” she said to herself, “wherein he was in-
formed of the happiness that awaited him. ”
At the idea of so cruel an insult, a blush of shame and indig-
nation displaced the paleness of Adrienne; who, overwhelmed by
this sad reality, said to herself, Rodin did not deceive me. ”
We abandon all idea of picturing the lightning-like rapidity of
certain emotions, which in a moment may torture — may kill you
in the space of a minute. Thus Adrienne was precipitated from
the most radiant happiness to the lowest depths of an abyss of
the most heart-rending grief, in less than a second; for a second
had hardly elapsed before she replied to Lady Morinval: “What
is there then so curious, opposite to us, my dear Julia ? ”
(
((
)
## p. 14188 (#378) ##########################################
14188
EUGÈNE SUE
(
This evasive question gave Adrienne time to recover her self-
possession. Fortunately, thanks to the thick folds of hair which
almost entirely concealed her cheeks, the rapid and sudden
changes from pallor to blush escaped the notice of Lady Morin-
val, who gayly replied, “What, my dear, do you not perceive
those East-Indians who have just entered the box immediately
opposite to ours? There, just before us! ”
“Yes, I see them; but what then? ” replied Adrienne in a
firm tone.
"And don't you observe anything remarkable ? ” said the mar-
chioness.
«Don't be too hard, ladies,” laughingly interposed the mar-
quis: "we ought to allow the poor foreigners some little indul.
:
gence. They are ignorant of our manners and customs: were it
not for that, they would never appear in the face of all Paris in
such dubious company. "
Indeed,” said Adrienne, with a bitter smile: «their simplicity
is touching; we must pity them. ”
"And unfortunately the girl is charming, spite of her low
dress and bare arms,” said the marchioness; "she cannot be more
than sixteen or seventeen at most. Look at her, my dear Adri-
enne; what a pity! ”
"It is one of your charitable days, my dear Julia,” answered
Adrienne: “we are to pity the Indians, to pity this creature, and
-pray, whom else are we to pity ? ”
“We will not pity that handsome Indian in his red-and-gold
turban,” said the marquis laughing; for if this goes on, the
girl with the cherry-colored ribbons will be giving him a kiss.
See how she leans towards her sultan. ”
« They are very amusing,” said the marchioness, sharing the
hilarity of her husband, and looking at Rose-Pompon through
her glass; then she resumed in about a minute, addressing herself
to Adrienne, “I am quite certain of one thing. Notwithstanding
her giddy airs, that girl is very fond of her Indian. I just saw
a look that expresses a great deal. ”
“Why so much penetration, my dear Julia ? ” said Adrienne
mildly: what interest have we in reading the heart of that
C
girl ? »
“Why, if she loves her sultan, she is quite in the right,” said
the marquis, looking through his opera-glass in turn; "for in my
whole life I never saw a more handsome fellow than that Indian.
(
## p. 14189 (#379) ##########################################
EUGÈNE SUE
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I can only catch his side-face, but the profile is pure and fine as
an antique cameo. Do you not think so ? ” added the marquis,
leaning towards Adrienne. “Of course it is only as a matter of
art that I permit myself to ask you the question. ”
"As a work of art,” answered Adrienne, it is certainly very
fine. ”
But see! ” said the marchioness: “how impertinent the little
creature is! She is actually staring at us. ”
“Well!
” said the marquis; "and she is actually laying her
hand quite unceremoniously on her sultan's shoulder — to make
him share, no doubt, in her admiration of you ladies. "
In fact, Djalma, until now occupied with the contemplation
of the scene which reminded him of his country, had remained
insensible to the enticements of Rose-Pompon, and had not yet
perceived Adrienne.
"Well now! ” said Rose-Pompon, bustling herself about in
front of the box, and continuing to stare at Mademoiselle de
Cardoville, — for it was she and not the marchioness who now
drew her attention: "that is something quite out of the common
way,- a pretty woman with red hair; but such a sweet red, it
must be owned. Look, Prince Charming! ”
And so saying, she tapped Djalma lightly on the shoulder: he
started at these words, turned round, and for the first time per-
ceived Mademoiselle de Cardoville.
Though he had been almost prepared for this meeting, the
prince was so violently affected by it that he was about involun-
tarily to rise, in a state of the utmost confusion; but he felt the
iron hand of Faringhea laid heavily on his shoulder, and heard
him whisper in Hindostanee, “Courage! and by to-morrow she
will be at your feet. ”
As Djalma still struggled to rise, the half-caste added, to re-
strain him, “Just now she grew pale and red with jealousy. No
weakness, or all is lost! ”
« So! there you are again, talking your dreadful gibberish,”
said Rose-Pompon, turning round toward Faringhea. "First of
all, it is not polite; and then the language is so odd, that one
might suppose you were cracking nuts. ”
"I spoke of you to my master,” said the half-caste: “he is
preparing a surprise for you. ”
"A surprise ? oh! that is different. Only make haste- do you
.
hear, Prince Charming! ” added she, looking tenderly at Djalma.
(
»
## p. 14190 (#380) ##########################################
14190
EUGÈNE SUE
(
"My heart is breaking,” said Djalma, in a hollow voice to
Faringhea, still using the language of India.
“But to-morrow it will bound with joy and love," answered
the half-caste. It is only by disdain that you can conquer a
proud woman. To-morrow, I tell you, she will be trembling, con-
fused, supplicating, at your feet! ”
« To-morrow she will hate me like death replied the prince
«?
mournfully.
“Yes, were she now to see you weak and cowardly. It is
now too late to draw back: look full at her, take the nosegay
from this girl, and raise it to your lips. Instantly you will see
yonder woman, proud as she is, grow pale and red, as just now.
Then will you believe me? ”
Reduced by despair to make almost any attempt, and fasci.
nated in spite of himself by the diabolical hints of Faringhea,
Djalma looked for a second full at Mademoiselle de Cardoville;
then with a trembling hand he took the bouquet from Rose-
Pompon, and again looking at Adrienne, pressed it to his lips.
Upon this insolent bravado, Mademoiselle de Cardoville could
not restrain so sudden and visible a pang that the prince was
struck by it.
"She is yours," said the half-caste to him.
my lord, how she trembled with jealousy? Only have courage,
and she is yours.
She would soon prefer you to that handsome
young man behind her— for it is he whom she has hitherto fan-
cied herself in love with. ”
As if the half-caste had guessed the movement of rage and
hatred which this revelation would excite in the heart of the
prince, he hastily added, “Calmness and disdain! Is it not his
turn now to hate you ? »
The prince restrained himself, and drew his hand across his
forehead, which glowed with anger.
“There now! what are you telling him that vexes him so ? ”
said Rose-Pompon to Faringhea, with pouting lip. Then address-
ing Djalma, she continued, “Come, Prince Charming, as they say
in the fairy tale,- give me back my flowers. ”
As she took the bouquet again, she added, “You have kissed it,
and I could almost eat it. ” Then with a sigh, and a passion-
ate glance at Djalma, she said softly to herself, “That monster
Ninny Moulin did not deceive me. All this is quite proper; I
have not even that to reproach myself with. ” And with her little
>
« Did you see,
»
## p. 14191 (#381) ##########################################
EUGÈNE SUE
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white teeth she bit at a rosy nail of her right hand, from which
she had just drawn the glove.
It is hardly necessary to say that Adrienne's letter had not
been delivered to the prince, and that he had not gone to pass
the day in the country with Marshal Simon. During the three
days in which Montbron had not seen Djalma, Faringhea had
persuaded him that by affecting another passion, he would bring
Mademoiselle de Cardoville to terms. With regard to Djalma's
presence at the theatre, Rodin had learned from her maid Flo-
rine that her mistress was to go in the evening to the Porte-Saint-
Martin. Before Djalma had recognized her, Adrienne, who felt
her strength failing her, was on the point of quitting the theatre:
the man whom she had hitherto placed so high, whom she had
regarded as a hero and a demigod, and whom she had imagined
plunged in such dreadful despair that, led by the most tender
pity, she had written to him with simple frankness, that a sweet
hope might calm his grief,— replied to a generous mark of sin-
cerity and love by making himself a ridiculous spectacle with a
creature unworthy of him.
What incurable wounds for Adrienne's pride! It mattered
little whether Djalma knew or not that she would be a spec-
tator of the indignity. But when she saw herself recognized by
the prince, when he carried the insult so far as to look full at
her, and at the same time raise to his lips the bouquet of the
creature who accompanied him, Adrienne was seized with noble
indignation, and felt sufficient courage to remain; instead of clos-
ing her eyes to evidence, she found a sort of barbarous pleas-
ure in assisting at the agony and death of her pure and divine
love. With head erect, proud and flashing eye, flushed cheek,
and curling lip, she looked in her turn at the prince with dis-
dafnful steadiness. It was with a sardonic smile that she said
to the marchioness, who, like many others of the spectators, was
occupied with what was passing in the stage-box, “This revolt-
ing exhibition of savage manners is at least in accordance with
the rest of the performance. ”
"Certainly,” said the marchioness; and my dear uncle will
have lost, perhaps, the most amusing part. ”
« Montbron ? ” said Adrienne hastily, with hardly repressed
bitterness: "yes, he will regret not having seen all. I am im-
I
patient for his arrival. Is it not to him that I am indebted for
I
this charming evening ? ”
»
## p. 14192 (#382) ##########################################
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EUGÈNE SUE
Perhaps Madame de Morinval would have remarked the ex-
pression of bitter irony that Adrienne could not altogether dis-
semble, if suddenly a hoarse and prolonged roar had not attracted
her attention, as well as that of the rest of the audience, who
had hitherto been quite indifferent to the scenes intended for an
introduction to the appearance of Morok. Every eye was now
turned instinctively towards the cavern, situated to the left of the
stage, just below Mademoiselle de Cardoville's box; a thrill of
curiosity ran through the house.
A second roar, deeper and more sonorous, and apparently ex.
pressive of more irritation, than the first, now rose from the cave;
the mouth of which was half hidden by artificial brambles, made
so as to be easily put on one side. At this sound the English-
man stood up in his little box, leaned half over the front, and
began to rub his hands with great energy; then remaining per-
fectly motionless, he fixed his large, green, glittering eyes on
the mouth of the cavern.
At these ferocious howlings, Djalma also had started, notwith-
standing the frenzy of love, hate, and jealousy to which he was
a prey. The sight of this forest, and the roarings of the panther,
filled him with deep emotion; for they recalled the remembrance
of his country, and of those great hunts which, like war, have
their own terrible excitement. Had he suddenly heard the horns
and gongs of his father's army sounding to the charge, he could
not have been transported with more savage ardor. And now
deep growls, like distant thunder, almost drowned the roar of
the panther. The lion and tiger, Judas and Cain, answered her
.
from their dens at the back of the stage. On this frightful con-
cert, with which his ears had been familiar in the midst of the
solitudes of India, when he lay encamped for the purposes of
the chase or of war, Djalma's blood boiled in his veins. His
eyes sparkled with a wild ardor. Leaning a little forward, with
both hands pressed on the front of the box, his whole body
trembled with a convulsive shudder. The audience, the theatre,
Adrienne herself, no longer existed for him: he was in a forest
of his own lands, tracking the tiger.
Then there mingled with his beauty so intrepid and ferocious
an expression, that Rose-Pompon looked at him with a sort of
terror and passionate admiration. For the first time in her life,
perhaps, her pretty blue eyes, generally so gay and mischiev-
ous, expressed a serious emotion. She could not explain what
## p. 14193 (#383) ##########################################
S EUGÈNE SUE
14193
ern.
»
she felt; but her heart seemed tightened, and beat violently, as
though some calamity were at hand.
Yielding to a movement of involuntary fear, she seized Djalma
by the arm, and said to him, “Do not stare so into that cavern;
you frighten me. ”
Djalma did not hear what she said.
“Here he is! here he is! ” murmured the crowd, almost with
one voice, as Morok appeared at the back of the stage.
Dressed as we have described, Morok now carried in addition
a bow and a long quiver full of arrows. He slowly descended
the line of painted rocks, which came sloping down towards the
centre of the stage. From time to time, he stopped as if to
listen, and appeared to advance with caution. Looking from one
side to the other, his eyes involuntarily encountered the large
green eyes of the Englishman, whose box was close to the cav-
Instantly the lion-tamer's countenance was contracted in so
frightful a manner that Lady Morinval, who was examining him
closely with the aid of an excellent glass, said hastily to Adrienne,
" “My dear, the man is afraid. Some misfortune will happen. ”
“How can accidents happen,” said Adrienne with a sardonic
smile, in the midst of this brilliant crowd, so well dressed and
full of animation! Misfortunes here this evening! why, dear
Julia, you do not think it. It is in darkness and solitude that
misfortunes come, - never in the midst of a joyous crowd, and in
all this blaze of light. ”
"Good gracious, Adrienne! take care! ” cried the marchioness,
unable to repress an exclamation of alarm, and seizing her arm
as if to draw her closer: “do you not see it ? » And with a
trembling hand she pointed to the cavern's mouth. Adrienne
hastily bent forward, and looked in that direction.
« Take care,
do not lean forward so! ” exclaimed Lady Morinval.
“Your terrors are nonsensical, my dear,” said the marquis to
his wife. “The panther is securely chained; and even were it to
break its chain, which is impossible, we are beyond its reach. ”
A long murmur of trembling curiosity here ran through the
house, and every eye was intently fixed on the cavern. From
amongst the artificial brambles, which she abruptly pushed aside
with her broad chest, the black panther suddenly appeared.
Twice she stretched forth her flat head, illumined by yellow,
flaming eyes; then, half opening her blood-red jaws, she uttered
XXIV-888
## p. 14194 (#384) ##########################################
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EUGÈNE SUE
>
another roar, and exhibited two rows of formidable fangs. A
double iron chain, and a collar also of iron, painted black, blended
with the ebon shades of her hide, and with the darkness of
the cavern. The illusion was complete, and the terrible animal
seemed to be at liberty in her den.
<<
"Ladies,” said the marquis suddenly, “look at those Indians.
Their emotion makes them superb! ”
In fact, the sight of the panther had raised the wild ardor
of Djalma to its utmost pitch. His eyes sparkled in their pearly
orbits like two black diamonds; his upper lip was curled convuls-
ively with an expression of animal ferocity, as if he were in a
violent paroxysm of rage.
Faringhea, now leaning on the front of the box, was also
greatly excited, by reason of a strange coincidence. «That black
panther of so rare a breed,” thought he, which I see here at
Paris upon a stage, must be the very one that the Malay”
(the Thug who had tattooed Djalma at Java during his sleep)
"took quite young from his den, and sold to a European cap-
tain. Bowanee's power is everywhere! ” added the Thug, in his
sanguinary superstition.
"Do you not think,” resumed the marquis, addressing Adri-
enne, “that those Indians are really splendid in their present atti-
tude ? »
Perhaps they may have seen such a hunt in their own coun-
try,” said Adrienne, as if she would recall and brave the most
cruel remembrances.
“Adrienne,” said the marchioness suddenly, in an agitated
voice, “the lion-tamer has now come nearer is not his coun-
tenance fearful to look at ? I tell you he is afraid. ”
«In truth,” observed the marquis, this time very seriously,
“he is dreadfully pale, and seems to grow worse every minute,
the nearer he approaches this side. It is said that were he to
lose his presence of mind for a single moment, he would run the
greatest danger. ”
«Oh! it would be horrible, cried the marchioness, addressing
Adrienne, “if he were wounded there - under our eyes! ”
" Every wound does not kill,” replied her friend, with an
accent of such cold indifference that the marchioness looked at
her with surprise, and said to her, “My dear girl, what you say
is cruel! ”
(
(
>
## p. 14195 (#385) ##########################################
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14195
>
“It is the air of the place that acts on me," answered Adri-
enne with an icy smile.
“Look! look! the lion-tamer is about to shoot his arrow at
the panther,” said the marquis suddenly. “No doubt he will
next perform the hand-to-hand grapple. ”
Morok was at this moment in front of the stage, but he had
yet to traverse its entire breadth to reach the cavern's mouth.
He stopped an instant, adjusted an arrow to the string, knelt
down behind a mass of rock, took deliberate aim — and then the
arrow hissed across the stage, and was lost in the depths of
the cavern, into which the panther had retired, after showing
for a moment her threatening head to the audience. Hardly had
the arrow disappeared, than Death, purposely irritated by Goliath
(who was invisible), sent forth a howl of rage, as if she had
been really wounded. Morok's actions became so expressive, he
evinced so naturally his joy at having hit the wild beast, that
a tempest of applause burst from every quarter of the house.
Then throwing away his bow, he drew a dagger from his girdle,
took it between his teeth, and began to crawl forward on hands
and knees, as though he meant to surprise the wounded panther
in his den. To render the illusion perfect, Death, again excited
by Goliath, who struck him with an iron bar, sent forth fright-
ful howlings from the depths of the cavern.
The gloomy aspect of the forest, only half lighted with a red-
dish glare, was so effective, the howlings of the panther were so
furious, the gestures, attitude, and countenance of Morok were
so expressive of terror, that the audience, attentive and trem-
bling, now maintained a profound silence. Every one held his
a
breath; and a kind of shudder came over the spectators, as
though they expected some horrible event. What gave such a
fearful air of truth to the pantomime of Morok was that, as he
approached the cavern step by step, he approached also the Eng-
lishman's box. In spite of himself, the lion-tamer, fascinated by
terror, could not take his eyes from the large green eyes of this
man; and it seemed as if every one of the abrupt movements
which he made in crawling along was produced by a species of
magnetic attraction, caused by the fixed gaze of the fatal wa-
gerer. Therefore the nearer Morok approached, the more ghastly
and livid he became. At sight of this pantomime, which was no
longer acting, but the real expression of intense fear, the deep
## p. 14196 (#386) ##########################################
14196
EUGÈNE SUE
upon her.
and trembling silence which had reigned in the theatre was once
more interrupted by cheers, with which were mingled the roar-
ings of the panther, and the distant growls of the lion and tiger.
The Englishman leaned almost out of his box, with a fright-
ful sardonic smile on his lip; and with his large eyes still fixed,
panted for breath. The perspiration ran down his bald red fore-
head, as if he had really expended an incredible amount of mag-
netic power in attracting Morok, whom he now saw close to the
cavern entrance. The moment was decisive. Crouching down
with his dagger in his hand, following with eye and gesture
every movement of Death,— who, roaring furiously, and open-
ing wide her enormous jaws, seemed determined to guard the
entrance of her den,- Morok waited for the moment to rush
There is such fascination in danger, that Adrienne
shared in spite of herself the feeling of painful curiosity, mixed
with terror, that thrilled through all the spectators. Leaning for-
ward like the marchioness, and gazing upon this scene of fearful
interest, the lady still held mechanically in her hand the Indian
bouquet preserved since the morning. Suddenly Morok raised
a wild shout, as he rushed towards Death; who answered this
exclamation by a dreadful roar, and threw herself upon her
master with so much fury that Adrienne, in alarm, believing
the man lost, drew herself back, and covered her face with her
hands. Her Aowers slipped from her grasp, and falling upon
the stage, rolled into the cavern in which Morok was struggling
with the panther.
Quick as lightning, supple and agile as a tiger, yielding to
,
the intoxication of his love, and to the wild ardor excited in
him by the roaring of the panther, Djalma sprang at one bound
upon the stage, drew his dagger, and rushed into the cavern
to recover Adrienne's nosegay. At that instant Morok, being
wounded, uttered a dreadful cry for help; the panther, rendered
still more furious at sight of Djalma, made the most desperate
efforts to break her chain. Unable to succeed in doing so, she
rose upon her hind legs, in order to seize Djalma, then within
reach of her sharp claws. It was only by bending down his
head, throwing himself on his knees, and twice plunging his
dagger into her belly with the rapidity of lightning, that Djalma
escaped certain death. The panther gave a howl, and fell with
her whole weight upon the prince. For a second, during which
1
## p. 14197 (#387) ##########################################
EUGÈNE SUE
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lasted her terrible agony, nothing was seen but a confused and
convulsive mass of black limbs, and white garments stained
with blood: and then Djalma rose, pale, bleeding – for he was
wounded; and standing erect, his eye flashing with savage pride,
his foot on the body of the panther, he held in his hand Adri-
enne's bouquet, and cast towards her a glance which told the
intensity of his love. Then only did Adrienne feel her strength
fail her; for only superhuman courage had enabled her to watch
all the terrible incidents of the struggle.
THE CHASTISEMENT
From «The Wandering Jew)
I
-
T is night. The moon shines and the stars glimmer in the
midst of a serene but cheerless sky; the sharp whistlings
of the north wind - that fatal dry and icy breeze-ever and
anon burst forth in violent gusts.
With its harsh and cutting
breath it sweeps the Heights of Montmartre. On the highest
point of the hills a man is standing. His long shadow is cast
upon the stony, moonlit ground. He gazes on the immense city
which lies outspread beneath his feet,- Paris, - with the dark
outline of its towers, cupolas, domes, and steeples, standing out
from the limpid blue of the horizon, while from the midst of the
ocean of masonry rises a luminous vapor, that reddens the starry
azure of the sky. It is the distant reflection of the thousand
fires which at night, the hour of pleasures, light up so joyously
the noisy capital.
“No,” said the wayfarer: “it is not to be. The Lord will not
exact it. Is not twice enough?
“Five centuſies ago, the avenging hand of the Almighty
drove me hither from the uttermost confines of Asia. A solitary
traveler, I had left behind me more grief, despair, disaster, and
death, than the innumerable armies of a hundred devastating
conquerors. I entered this town, and it too was decimated.
"Again, two centuries ago, the inexorable hand which leads
me through the world brought me once more hither; and then,
as the time before, the plague, which the Almighty attaches to
my steps, again ravaged this city, and fell first on my brethren,
already worn out with labor and misery.
(
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EUGÈNE SUE
-
(
«My brethren - mine! - the cobbler of Jerusalem, the artisan
accursed by the Lord, who in my person condemned the whole
race of workmen, ever suffering, ever disinherited, ever in slav-
ery, toiling on like me, without rest or pause, without recompense
or hope, till men, women, and children, young and old, all die
beneath the same iron yoke, - that murderous yoke, which others
take in their turn, thus to be borne from age to age on the sub-
missive and bruised shoulders of the masses.
"And now, for the third time in five centuries, I reach the
summit of one of the hills that overlook the city. And perhaps
I again bring with me fear, desolation, and death.
« Yet this city, intoxicated with the sounds of its joys and its
nocturnal revelries, does not know — oh! does not know that I
am at its gates.
“But no, no! my presence will not be a new calamity. The
Lord, in his impenetrable views, has hitherto led me through
France so as to avoid the humblest hamlet; and the sound of
the funeral knell has not accompanied my passage.
"And moreover, the spectre has left me the green, livid
spectre, with its hollow bloodshot eyes. When I touched the soil
I
of France, its damp and icy hand was no longer clasped in mine
and it disappeared.
"And yet I feel that the atmosphere of death is around me.
“The sharp whistlings of that fatal wind cease not, which,
catching me in their whirl, seem to propagate blasting and mil.
dew as they blow.
“But perhaps the wrath of the Lord is appeased, and my pres.
ence here is only a threat — to be communicated in some way to
those whom it should intimidate.
Yes; for otherwise he would smite with a fearful blow, by
first scattering terror and death here in the heart of the country,
in the bosom of this immense city!
“Oh! no, no! the Lord will be merciful.
