Some day I will tell you the name of your
father, and the unheard-of fatality of which your mother and
yourself have been the victims.
father, and the unheard-of fatality of which your mother and
yourself have been the victims.
Warner - World's Best Literature - v08 - Dah to Dra
And during this time down by the stables
can hear a long plaintive neighing. It is the Dauphin's
little sorrel pony, whom the grooms are neglecting, and who
calls sadly from his empty manger. And the King - where is his
Majesty the King?
The King has shut himself up in a room
remote part of the castle. Their Majesties do not like to
be seen weeping. But the Queen-that is different. Seated by
the little prince's pillow, her beautiful face bathed in tears, she
sobs bitterly before every one, just as a peasant mother would.
one
in a
In his lace crib is the little Dauphin, whiter than the cushions
on which he reposes, with closed eyelids. They think he is
sleeping; but no, the little Dauphin does not sleep. He turns
toward
his mother, and seeing that she weeps, he says to her,
"Madame my Queen, why do you weep? Do you think truly
that I
am going to die? " The Queen wishes to reply, but sobs
prevent her speaking.
"Pray do not cry, Madame my Queen.
## p. 4448 (#222) ###########################################
4448
ALPHONSE DAUDET
You forget that I am the Dauphin, and Dauphins cannot die
thus. " The Queen sobs more bitterly still, and the little Dauphin
begins to be frightened. "Hola! " he says, "I do not wish to
have Death come and take me; and I shall know how to prevent
his coming here. Bring forth forty lancers, our strongest, to
mount guard around our bed; a hundred cannon night and day;
torches lighted beneath our windows. And unhappy Death if he
dares to approach us then! " The Queen gives a sign to please
the royal child. Forthwith, one can hear heavy cannon being
rolled across the courtyard; and forty soldiers, halberds in hand,
come and range themselves around the room: they are veterans,
with gray moustaches. The little Dauphin claps his hands feebly
as he sees them, and recognizing one he calls him by name,
"Lorrain! Lorrain! " The old soldier takes a step towards the
bed. "I love you well, my good Lorrain. Let me see your big
sword. If Death comes to take me, we must kill him, must we
not? " Lorrain replies, "Yes, Monseigneur," as the big tears
run down his bronzed cheeks.
At this moment the chaplain approaches the little Dauphin,
and talks to him for some time in a low tone, showing him a
crucifix. The little Dauphin listens with an astonished air; then
suddenly interrupting, "I understand well what you say, Mon-
sieur l'Abbé; but after all, could not my little friend Beppo die
in my place, if we should give him a great deal of money? »
The chaplain continues talking to him in a low voice, and
the little Dauphin looks more and more astonished. When the
chaplain has finished, the little Dauphin resumes, with a heavy
sigh, "All that you tell me is very sad, Monsieur l'Abbé, but
one thing consoles me: up there, in the paradise of stars, I shall
still be the Dauphin. I know that our good God is my cousin,
and would not fail to treat me according to my rank. " Then he
adds, turning to his mother, "Have my finest garments brought
-my ermine cloak and velvet slippers. I wish to array myself
for the angels, and enter paradise dressed as a Dauphin. "
A third time the chaplain bends over the little prince, and
talks a long time in whispering tones. The royal child inter-
rupts him in anger, in the midst of his discourse, and cries,
Then it is no use to be Dauphin,- it is nothing at all; >> and
not wishing to hear more, he turns toward the wall weeping.
<<
Translation of Mary Corey.
1
## p. 4449 (#223) ###########################################
ALPHONSE DAUDET
JACK IS INVITED TO TAKE UP A "PROFESSION »
From 'Jack'
4449
"D°
o you hear, Jack? " resumed D'Argenton, with flashing eyes
and outstretched arm. "In four years you will be a
good workman; that is to say, the noblest, grandest thing
that can exist in this world of slavery and servitude. In four
years you will be that sacred, venerated thing, a good work-
man! "
VIII-279
Yes, indeed he heard it! "a good workman. " Only he was
bewildered and was trying to understand.
The child had seen workmen in Paris. There were some
who lived in the Passage des Douze Maisons, and not far from
the Gymnase there was a factory, from which he often watched
them as they left work at about six o'clock; a crowd of dirty-
looking men with their blouses all stained with oil, and their
rough hands blackened and deformed by work.
The idea that he would have to wear a blouse struck him at
once. He remembered the tone of contempt with which his
mother would say: "Those are workmen, men in blouses, "— the
care she took in the streets to avoid the contact of their soiled
garments. Labassindre's fine speeches on the duties and in-
fluence of the workingman in the nineteenth century attenuated
and contradicted, it is true, these vague impressions. But what
he did understand, and that most clearly and bitterly, was that
he must go away, leave the forest whose tree-tops he saw from
the window, leave the Rivalses, leave his mother, his mother
whom he had recovered at the cost of so much pain, and whom
he loved so tenderly.
What on earth was she doing at that window all this time,
seeming so indifferent to all that was going on around her?
Within the last few minutes, however, she had lost her immov-
able indifference. A convulsive shudder seemed to shake her
from head to foot, and the hand she held over her eyes closed
over them as if she were hiding tears. Was it then so sad a
sight that she beheld yonder in the country, on the far horizon
where the sun sets, and where so many dreams, so many illu-
sions, so many loves and passions sink and disappear, never to
return?
## p. 4450 (#224) ###########################################
ALPHONSE DAUDET
4450
"Then I shall have to go away? " inquired the child in a
smothered voice, and the automatic air of one who lets his
thought speak, the one thought that absorbed him.
At this artless question all the members of the tribunal
looked at each other with a smile of pity; but over there at the
window a great sob was heard.
"We shall start in a week, my lad," answered Labassindre
briskly. "I have not seen my brother for a long time. I shall
avail myself of this opportunity to renew my acquaintance with
the fire of my old forge, by Jove! "
As he spoke, he turned back his sleeve, distending the mus-
cles of his brawny, hairy, tattooed arm, till they looked ready to
burst.
"He is superb," said Dr. Hirsch.
D'Argenton, however, who did not lose sight of the sobbing
woman standing at the window, had an absent air, and a terrible
frown gathering on his brow.
"You can go, Jack," he said to the child, "and prepare to
start in a week. "
Jack went down-stairs, dazed and stupefied, repeating to him-
self, "In a week! in a week! " The street door was open; he
rushed out, bare-headed, just as he was, dashed through the
village to the house of his friends, and meeting the Doctor, who
was just going out, informed him in a few words of what had
taken place.
Monsieur Rivals was indignant.
"A workman! They want to make a workman of you? Is
that what they call looking after your prospects in life? Wait a
moment. I am going to speak myself to monsieur your step-
father. "
The villagers who saw them pass by, the worthy Doctor
gesticulating and talking out loud, and little Jack, bare-headed
and breathless from running, said, "There is certainly some one
very ill at Les Aulnettes. "
No one was ill, most assuredly. When the Doctor arrived
they were sitting down to table; for on account of the capricious
appetite of the master of the house, and as in all places where
ennui reigns supreme, the hours for the meals were constantly
being changed.
The faces around were cheerful; Charlotte could even be
heard humming on the stairs as she came down from her room.
## p. 4451 (#225) ###########################################
ALPHONSE DAUDET
E
e
0
e
1
4451
"I should like to say a word to you, M. d'Argenton," said
old Rivals with quivering lips.
The poet twirled his moustache:
_______
"Well, Doctor, sit down there. They shall give you a plate
and you can say your word while you eat your breakfast.
>>>
"No, thank you, I am not hungry; besides, what I have to
say to you as well as to Madame "- he bowed to Charlotte, who
had just come in "is strictly private. "
"I think I can guess your errand," said D'Argenton, who did
not care for a tête-à-tête conversation with the Doctor.
about the child, is it not? "
"It is
"You are right; it is about the child. "
"In that case you can speak. These gentlemen know the cir-
cumstances, and my actions are always too loyal and too dis-
interested for me to fear the light of day. "
«< But, my dear! " Charlotte ventured to say, shocked for
many reasons at the idea of this discussion before strangers.
"You can speak, Doctor," said D'Argenton coldly.
Standing upright in front of the table, the Doctor began:—
"Jack has just told me that you intend to send him as an
apprentice to the iron works at Indret. Is this serious? Come! "
"Quite serious, my dear Doctor. "
"Take care," pursued M. Rivals, restraining his anger; "that
child has not been brought up for so hard a life. At a growing
age you are going to throw him out of his element into new sur-
roundings, a new atmosphere. His health, his life are involved.
He has none of the requisites needed to bear this. He is not
strong enough. "
"Oh! allow me, my dear colleague," put in Dr. Hirsch sol-
emnly.
M. Rivals shrugged his shoulders, and without even looking
at him, went on:
"It is I who tell you so, Madame. ”
He pointedly addressed himself to Charlotte, who was singu-
larly embarrassed by this appeal to her repressed feelings.
"Your child cannot possibly endure a life of this sort. You
surely know him, you who are his mother. You know that his
nature is a refined and delicate one, and that it will be unable
to resist fatigue. And here I only speak of the physical pain.
But do you not know what terrible sufferings a child so well
gifted, with a mind so capable and ready to receive all kinds of
## p. 4452 (#226) ###########################################
4452
ALPHONSE DAUDET
knowledge, will feel in the forced inaction, the death of intel-
lectual faculties to which you are about to condemn him? ”
"You are mistaken, Doctor," said D'Argenton, who was get-
ting very angry. "I know the fellow better than any one. I
have tried him. He is only fit for manual labor. His aptitudes
lie there, and there only. And it is when I furnish him with
the means of developing his aptitudes, when I put into his hands
a magnificent profession, that instead of thanking me, my fine
gentleman goes off complaining to strangers, seeking protectors
outside of his own home. "
Jack was going to protest. His friend however saved him the
trouble.
"He did not come to complain. He only informed me of
your decision, and I said to him what I now repeat to him before
you all:- 'Jack, my child, do not let them do it.
Throw your-
self into the arms of your parents, of your mother who loves
you, of your mother's husband, who for her sake must love
you. Entreat them, implore them. Ask them what you have
done to deserve to be thus degraded, to be made lower than
themselves! >»
"Doctor," exclaimed Labassindre, bringing his fist heavily
down upon the table, making it tremble and shake, "the tool
does not degrade the man, it ennobles him. The tool is the
regenerator of mankind. Christ handled a plane when he was
ten years of age.
"That is indeed true," said Charlotte, who at once conjured
up the vision of her little Jack dressed for the procession of the
Fête-Dieu as the child Jesus, armed with a little plane.
"Don't be taken in by such balderdash, Madame," said the
exasperated doctor. "To make a workman of your son is to
separate him from you forever. If you were to send him to the
other end of the world, he could not be further from your mind,
from your heart; for you would have, in this case, means of
drawing together again, whereas social distances are irremediable.
You will see. The day will come when you will be ashamed of
your child, when you will find his hands rough, his language
coarse, his sentiments totally different from yours. He will stand
one day before you, before his mother, as before a stranger of
higher rank than himself,-not only humbled, but degraded. "
Jack, who had hitherto not uttered a word, but had listened
attentively from a corner near the sideboard, was suddenly
## p. 4453 (#227) ###########################################
ALPHONSE DAUDET
4453
alarmed at the idea of any possible disaffection springing up
between his mother and himself.
He advanced into the middle of the room, and steadying his
voice:
"I will not be a workman," he said in a determined manner.
"O Jack! " murmured Charlotte, faltering.
This time it was D'Argenton who spoke.
"Oh, really! you will not be a workman? Look at this fine
gentleman who will or who will not accept a thing that I have
decided. You will not be a workman, eh? But you are quite
willing to be clothed, fed, and amused. Well, I solemnly declare
that I have had enough of you, you horrid little parasite; and
that if you do not choose to work, I for my part refuse to be
any longer your victim. "
-
He stopped abruptly, and passing from his mad rage to the
chilly manner which was habitual to him: —
"Go up to your room," he said; "I will consider what
remains to be done. "
"What remains to be done, my dear D'Argenton, I will soon
tell you. "
But Jack did not hear the end of Monsieur Rivals's phrase,
D'Argenton with a shove having thrust him out.
The noise of the discussion reached him in his room, like the
various parts in a great orchestra. He distinguished and recog-
nized all the voices, but they melted one into the other, united
by their resonance, and made a discordant uproar through which
some bits of phrases were alone intelligible.
"It is an infamous lie. "
"Messieurs! Messieurs! "
"Life is not a romance.
"Sacred blouse, beûh! beûh ! »
w
>>
At last old Rivals's voice could be heard thundering as he
crossed the threshold:
"May I be hanged if ever I put my foot in your house again! "
Then the door was violently slammed, and a great silence
fell on the dining-room, broken only by the clatter of knives and
forks.
They were breakfasting.
"You wish to degrade him, to make him something lower
than yourself. " The child remembered that phrase, and he felt.
that this was indeed his enemy's intention.
## p. 4454 (#228) ###########################################
ALPHONSE DAUDET
4454
Well, no; a thousand times no-he would not be a workman.
The door opened, and his mother came in.
She had cried a great deal, had shed real tears, tears such as
furrow the cheek. For the first time, a mother showed herself
in that pretty woman's face, an afflicted and sorrowing mother.
"Listen to me, Jack," she said, striving to appear severe; "I
must speak very seriously to you. You have made me very
unhappy by putting yourself in open rebellion against your real
friends, and by refusing to accept the situation they offer you.
I am well aware that there is in the new existence
While she spoke, she carefully avoided meeting the child's
eyes, for they had such an expression of desperate grief and
heartfelt reproach that she would not have been able to resist
their appeal.
«< - That there is, in the new existence we have chosen for
you, an apparent inconsistency with the life you have hitherto
been leading. I confess that I was myself at first rather startled
by it, but you heard, did you not, what was said to you? The
position of a workman is no longer what it used to be; oh no!
not at all the same thing, not at all. You must know that the
time of the working-man has now come. The middle classes
have had their day, the aristocracy likewise. Although, I must
say, the aristocracy - Moreover, is it not more natural at your
age, to allow yourself to be guided by those who love you, and
who are experienced? "
A sob from the child interrupted her.
"Then you too send me away; you too send me away. "
This time the mother could no longer resist. She took him
in her arms, clasped him passionately to her heart:-
"I send you away? How can you imagine such a thing?
Is it possible? Come, be calm; don't tremble and give way like
that. You know how I love you, and how, if it only depended
on me, we would never leave each other. But we must be rea-
sonable, and think a little of the future. Alas! the future is
already dark enough for us. "
And in one of those outbursts of words that she still had
sometimes when freed from the presence of the master, she en-
deavored to explain to Jack, with all kinds of hesitations and
reticences, the irregularity of their position.
"You see, my darling, you are still very young; there are
many things you cannot understand. Some day, when you are
## p. 4455 (#229) ###########################################
ALPHONSE DAUDET
4455
older, I will reveal to you the secret of your birth; quite a
romance, my dear!
Some day I will tell you the name of your
father, and the unheard-of fatality of which your mother and
yourself have been the victims. But for the present, what you
must know and thoroughly comprehend, is that nothing here
belongs to us, my poor child, and that we are absolutely depend-
ent on him. How can I therefore oppose your departure, espe-
cially when I know that he wants you to leave for your good?
I cannot ask him for anything more. He has already done so
much for us. Besides, he is not rich, and this terrible artistic
career is so expensive! He could not undertake the expense of
your education. What will become of me between you two?
We must come to a decision. Remember that it was a profes-
sion you were being given. Would you not be proud of being
independent, of gaining your own livelihood, of being your own
master? »
She saw at once by the flash in the child's eye that she had
struck home; and in a low tone, in the caressing, coaxing voice
of a mother, she murmured: -
"Do it for my sake, Jack; will you? Put yourself in a posi-
tion that will enable you soon to gain your livelihood. Who
knows if some day I may not be obliged myself to have recourse
to you as my only protector, my only friend? "
Did she really think what she said? Was it a presentiment,
one of those sudden glimpses into the future which unfold to
us our destiny and reveal the failure and disappointments of our
existence? Or had she been merely carried away in the whirl-
wind words of her impulsive sentimentality?
In any case she could not have found a better argument to
convince that little generous spirit. The effect was instantaneous.
The idea that his mother might want him, that he could help
her by his work, suddenly decided him.
He looked her straight in the face.
"Swear that you will always love me, that you will never be
ashamed of me when my hands are blackened! »
"If I shall love you, my Jack! "
Her only answer was to cover him with kisses, hiding her
agitation and her remorse under her passionate embraces; but
from that moment the wretched woman knew remorse, knew it
for the rest of her life; and could never think of her child
without feeling a stab in her heart.
## p. 4456 (#230) ###########################################
4456
ALPHONSE DAUDET
He however, as though he understood all the shame, un-
certainty, and terror concealed under these caresses, dashed
towards the stairs, to avoid dwelling on it.
"Come, mamma, let us go down. I am going to tell him I
accept his offer. "
Down-stairs the "Failures » were still at table. They were all
struck by the grave and determined look on Jack's face.
"I beg your pardon," he said to D'Argenton. "I did wrong
in refusing your proposal. I now accept it, and thank you. "
THE CITY OF IRON AND FIRE
From 'Jack'
THE
HE singer rose and stood upright in the boat, in which he
and the child were crossing the Loire a little above
Paim-
bœuf, and with a wide sweeping gesture of the arms, as if
he would have clasped the river within them, exclaimed:-
"Look at that, old boy; is not that grand? »
Notwithstanding the touch of grotesqueness and commonplace
in the actor's admiration, it was well justified by the splendid
landscape unrolling before their eyes.
river,
of a
It was about four o'clock in the afternoon. A July Sun, a
sun of melting silver, spread a long luminous pathway of rays
upon the waters. In the air was a tremulous reverberation, a mist
of light, through which appeared the gleaming light of the
active and silent, flashing upon the sight with the rapidity
mirage. Dimly seen sails high in the air, which in this dazzling
hour seem pale as flax, pass in the distance as if in flight.
They were great barges coming from Noirmoutiers, laden to the
very edge with white salt sparkling all over with shining
gles, and worked by picturesque crews; men with the
three-cornered hat of the Breton salt-worker, and women
great cushioned caps with butterfly wings were as white
glittering as the salt. Then there were coasting vessels
floating drays, their decks piled with sacks of flour and esks;
tugs dragging interminable lines of barges, or perhaps =
three-master of Nantes arriving from the other side of the w
orld,
returning to the native land after two years' absence, and 110V-
ing up the river with a slow, almost solemn motion, as if ear-
ing within it a silent contemplation of the old country, and
ome
I
the
Span-
great
hose
and
like
2
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ས་! ་
## p. 4457 (#231) ###########################################
ALPHONSE DAUDET
4457
mysterious poetry belonging to all things that come from afar.
Notwithstanding the July heat, a strong breeze blew freshly over
the lovely scene, for the wind came up from the coast with the
cheerful freshness of the open sea, and let it be guessed that a
little further away, beyond those hurrying waves already aban-
doned by the calm tranquillity of still waters, lay the deep green.
of the limitless ocean, with its billows, its fogs, and its tempests.
"And Indret? where is it? " asks Jack.
"There, that island in front of us. "
In the silvery mist which enveloped the island, Jack saw con-
fusedly lines of great poplars and tall chimneys, whence issued a
thick filthy smoke, spreading over all, blackening even the sky
above it. At the same time he heard a clamorous and resound-
ing din, hammers falling on wrought and sheet iron, dull sounds,
ringing sounds, variously re-echoed by the sonority of the water;
and over everything a continuous and perpetual droning, as if
the island had been a great steamer, stopped, and murmuring,
moving its paddles while at anchor, and its machinery while yet
motionless.
As the boat approached the shore, slowly and yet more slowly,
-for the tide ran strongly and was hard to fight against,- the
child began to distinguish long buildings with low roofs, black-
ened walls extending on all sides with uniform dreariness; then,
on the banks of the river as far as the eye could reach, long
lines of enormous boilers painted with red lead, the startling color
giving a wildly fantastic effect. Government transports, steam
launches, ranged alongside the quay, lay waiting till these boilers
should be put on board by means of a great crane near at hand,
which viewed from a distance looked like a gigantic gibbet.
At the foot of this gallows stood a man watching the ap-
proach of the boat.
"It is Roudic," said the singer; and from the deepest depths
he brought forth a formidable "hurrah! " which made itself
heard even in the midst of all the din of forging and hammering.
"Is that you, young 'un? "
"Yes, by Jove, it is I; are there two such notes as mine in
the whole world? "
The boat touched the shore, and the two brothers sprang into
each other's arms with a mighty greeting.
They were alike; but Roudic was much older, and wanting in
that embonpoint so quickly acquired by singers in the exercise
of trills and sustained notes. Instead of the pointed beard of
## p. 4458 (#232) ###########################################
4458
ALPHONSE DAUDET
his brother, he was shaven, sunburnt; and his sailor's cap, a blue
wool knitted cap, shaded a true Breton face, tanned by the sea,
cut in granite, with small eyes, and a keen glance sharpened by
the minute work of a fitter and adjuster.
"And how are all at home? " asked Labassindre.
Zénaïde, every one? "
"Every one is quite well, thank Heaven. Ah, ah! this is our
new apprentice. He looks like a nice little chap; only he doesn't
look over strong. "
"Strong as a horse, my dear fellow, and warranted by the
Paris doctors. "
"So much the better, then, for ours is a roughish trade. And
now, if you are ready, let us go and see the manager. "
They followed a long alley of fine trees that soon changed
into a street, such as is found in small towns, bordered by white
houses, clean and all alike. Here lived a certain number of the
factory workmen, the foremen, and first hands. The others were
located on the opposite bank, at Montagne or at Basse Indre.
At this hour all was silent, life and movement being concen-
trated within the iron works; and had it not been for the linen
drying at the windows, the flower-pots ranged near the panes,
the occasional cry of a child, or the rhythmical rocking of a
cradle heard through some half-opened door, the place might
have been deemed uninhabited.
"Clarisse,
"Oh! the flag's down," said the singer, as they reached the
gate leading to the workshops. "What frights that confounded
flag has given me before now.
>>
And he explained to his "old Jack," that five minutes after
the arrival of the workmen for the opening hour, the flag over
the gate was lowered, and thus it was announced that the doors
were closed. So much the worse for those who were late; they
were marked down as absent, and at the third offense dismissed.
While he was giving these explanations, his brother conferred
with the gate-keeper, and they were admitted within the doors
of the establishment. The din was frightful; whistlings, groan-
ings, grindings, varying but never diminishing, were re-echoed
from many vast triangular-roofed sheds, standing at intervals on
a sloping ground intersected by numerous railways.
An iron city!
Their footsteps rang upon plates of metal incrusted in the
earth. They picked their way amid heaps of bar iron, pig iron,
ingots of copper; between rows of worn-out guns brought hither
## p. 4459 (#233) ###########################################
ALPHONSE DAUDET
4459
to be melted down, rusty outside, all black within and almost
smoking still, venerable masters of fire about to perish by fire.
Roudic, as they passed along, pointed out the various quar-
ters of the establishment: "This is the setting-up room, these
the workshops of the great lathe and little lathe, the braziery,
the forges, the foundry. " He had to shout, so deafening was the
noise.
Jack, half dazed, looked with surprise through the workshop
doors, nearly all open on account of the heat, at a swarming of
upraised arms, of blackened faces, of machinery in motion in a
cave-like darkness, dull and deep, lit up by brief flashes of red
light.
Out poured the hot air, with mingled odors of coal, burned
clay, molten iron and the impalpable black dust, sharp and burn-
ing, which in the sunlight had a metallic sparkle, the glitter of
coal that may become diamond.
But what gave a special character to these formidable works
was the perpetual commotion of both earth and air, a continual
trepidation, something like the striving of a huge beast impris-
oned beneath the foundry, whose groans and burning breath
burst hissing out through the yawning chimneys. Jack, fearful
of appearing too much of a novice, dared not ask what it was
made this noise, which even at a distance had so impressed
him.
.
As they talked, they passed along the streets of the iron-
works laid with rails, crowded at this hour, the working day just
at an end, with a concourse of men of all kinds and sizes and
trades; a motley of blouses, pilot jackets, the coats of the design-
ers mixing with the uniforms of the overseers.
The gravity with which this deliverance from toil was effected
struck Jack forcibly. He compared this scene with the cries, the
jostling on the pavements which in Paris enliven the exit from
the workshops, and make it as noisy as that of a school. Here,
rule and discipline were sensibly felt, just as on board a man-of-
war.
A warm mist of steam floated over this mass of human be-
ings, a steam that the sea breeze had not yet dispersed, and
which hung like a heavy cloud in the stillness of this July even-
ing. From the now silent workshops evaporated the odors of
the forge. Steam whistled forth in the gutters, sweat stood on
all the foreheads, and the panting that had puzzled Jack a little
## p. 4460 (#234) ###########################################
4460
ALPHONSE DAUDET
while ago had given place to a breath of relief from these two
thousand chests wearied with the day's labor.
As he passed through the crowd, Labassindre was soon recog-
nized.
"Hullo! young 'un, how are you? "
He was surrounded, his hand eagerly shaken, and from one
to another passed the words: -
"Here, look at Roudic's brother, the fellow who makes four
thousand pounds a year just by singing. "
Every one wished to see him, for one of the legends of the
workshops was this supposed fortune of the quondam blacksmith,
and since his departure more than one young fellow-worker had
searched to the very bottom of his larynx, to try if the famous
note, the note worth millions, were not by some happy chance to
be found there.
In the midst of this cortège of admirers, whom his theatrical
costume impressed still more, the singer walked along with his
head in the air, talking and laughing, casting "Good morning,
Father So-and-so! Good morning, Mother What-'s-your-name! "
towards the little houses enlivened by women's faces looking out,
towards the public-houses and cook-shops which were frequent in
this part of Indret; where also hawkers of all kinds held sway,
exposing their merchandise in the open air: blouses, shoes, hats,
kerchiefs, all the ambulating trumpery to be found in the neigh-
borhood of camps, barracks, and factories.
As they made their way through this display of wares, Jack
imagined he saw a familiar face, a smile, parting the various
groups to reach him; but it was only a lightning flash, a mere
vision swept away at once by the ever changing tide of the mass
flowing away and dispersing through the great industrial city,
and spreading itself over to the other side of the river in long
ferry-boats, active, numerous, heavily laden, as if it were the
passage of an army.
Evening was closing in over the dispersing crowd. The sun
went down. The wind freshened, moving the poplars like palms;
and the spectacle was imposing of the toiling island in its turn
sinking to repose, restored to nature for the night. As the
smoke cleared, masses of verdure became visible between the
workshops. The river could be heard lapping the banks; and
the swallows, skimming the water with tiny twitter, fluttered
around the great boilers ranged along the quay.
## p. 4461 (#235) ###########################################
ALPHONSE DAUDET
4461
THE WRATH OF A QUEEN
From Kings in Exile'
Α'
LL the magic beauty of that June night poured in through
the wide-open casement in the great hall. A single lighted
candelabrum scarcely disturbed the mystery of the moonlight,
which streamed in like a "milky way. " On the table, across some
dusty old papers, lay a crucifix of oxydized silver. By the side of
the crucifix was a thick broad sheet of parchment, covered with
a big and tremulous writing. It was the death-warrant of roy-
alty, wanting nothing but the signature, one stroke of the pen,
and a strong and violent effort of will to give this; and that was
the reason why this weak King hesitated, sitting motionless, his
elbows resting on the table, by the lighted candles prepared for
the royal seal.
―
Near him, anxious, prying, yet soft and smooth, like a night-
moth or the black bat that haunts ruins, Lebeau, the confidential
valet, watched him and silently encouraged him; for they had
arrived at the decisive moment that the gang had for months
expected, with alternate hopes and fears, with all the trepidation,
all the uncertainty attending a business dependent upon such a
puppet as this King. Notwithstanding the magnetism of this
overpowering desire, Christian, pen in hand, could not bring
himself to sign. Sunk down in his arm-chair, he gazed at the
parchment, and was lost in thought. It was not that he cared
for that crown, which he had neither wished for nor loved,
which as a child he had found too heavy, and that later in life
had bowed him down and crushed him by its terrible responsi-
bilities. He had felt no scruple in laying it aside, leaving it in
the corner of a room which he never entered, forgetting it as
much as possible when he was out; but he was scared at the
sudden determination, the irrevocable step he was about to take.
However, there was no other way of procuring money for his
new existence, no other means of meeting the hundred and
twenty thousand pounds' worth of bills he had signed, on which
payment would soon be due, and which the usurer, a certain
Pichery, picture-dealer, refused to renew. Could he allow an
execution to be put in at Saint-Mandé? And the Queen, the
royal child; what would become of them in that case? If he
must have a scene for he foresaw the terrible clamor his
## p. 4462 (#236) ###########################################
4462
ALPHONSE DAUDET
cowardice must rouse. was it not better to have it now, and
brave once fo all anger and recriminations? And then- all this
was not really the determining reason.
He had promised the Comtesse to sign this renunciation; and
on the faith of this promise, Séphora had consented to let her
husband start alone for London, and had accepted the mansion
Avenue de Messine, and the title and name that published her
to the world as the king's mistress, reserving, however, anything
further till the day when Christian himself would bring her the
deed, signed by his own hand. She assigned for this conduct
the reasons of a woman in love: he might, later on, return to
Illyria, abandon her for the throne and power; she would not be
the first person whom these terrible State reasons have made
tremble and weep. D'Axel, Wattelet, all the gommeux of the
Grand Club little guessed when the king, quitting the Avenue de
Messine, rejoined them at the club with heavy fevered eyes, that
he had spent the evening on a divan, by turns repulsed or
encouraged, his feelings played upon, his nerves unstrung by the
constant resistance; rolling himself at the feet of an immovable,
determined woman, who with a supple opposition abandoned to
his impassioned embrace only the cold little Parisian hands, so
skillful in defense and evasion, while she imprinted on his lips.
the scorching flame of the enrapturing words: -"Oh! when you
have ceased to be king, I shall be all yours-all yours! She
made him pass through all the dangerous phases of passion and
coldness; and often at the theatre, after an icy greeting and a
rapid smile, would slowly draw off her gloves and cast him a
tender glance; then, putting her bare hand in his, she would
seem to offer it up to his ardent kiss.
"Then you say, Lebeau, that Pichery will not renew? "
"He will not, sire. If the bills are not paid, the bailiffs will
be put in. "
-―――――
How well he emphasized with a despairing moan the word
"bailiffs," so as to convey the feeling of all the sinister formali-
ties that would follow: bills protested, an execution, the royal
hearth desecrated, the family turned out of doors. Christian
saw nothing of all this. His imagination carried him far away
to the Avenue de Messine: he saw himself arriving there in
the middle of the night, eager and quivering; ascending with
stealthy and hurried step the heavily carpeted stairs, entering the
room where the night-light burned, mysteriously veiled under
## p. 4463 (#237) ###########################################
ALPHONSE DAUDET
4463
lace:"It is done-I am no longer king. You are mine, mine. "
And the loved one held out her hand.
"Come," he exclaimed, starting out of his fleeting dream.
And he signed.
The door opened and the Queen appeared. Her presence in
Christian's rooms at such an hour was so unforeseen, so unex-
pected, they had lived so long apart, that neither the King in
the act of signing his infamy, nor Lebeau, who stood watching
him, turned round at the slight noise she made. They thought
it was Boscovich coming up from the garden. Gliding lightly
like a shadow, she was already near the table, and had reached
the two accomplices, when Lebeau saw her. With her finger on
her lips she motioned him to be silent, and continued to advance,
wishing to convict the king in the very act of his treachery, and
avoid all evasion, subterfuge, or useless dissimulation; but the
valet set her order at defiance and gave the alarm, "The Queen,
sire! "
The Dalmatian, furious, struck straight in the face of this
malevolent caitiff with the powerful hand of a woman accustomed
to handle the reins; and drawing herself up erect, waited till the
wretch had disappeared before she addressed the king.
"What has happened, my dear Frédérique ? and to what am I
indebted for-? "
Standing bent over the table that he strove to hide, in a
graceful attitude that showed off his silk jacket embroidered in
pink, he smiled, and although his lips were rather pale, his voice
remained calm, his speech easy, with that polished elegance
which never left him when addressing his wife, and which placed.
a barrier between them like a hard lacquer screen adorned with
flowery and intricate arabesques. With one word, one gesture,
she put aside the barrier behind which he would fain have shel-
tered himself.
"Oh! no phrases, no grimacing- if you please. I know what
you were writing there. Do not try to give me the lie. ”
Then drawing nearer, overwhelming his timorous objection by
her haughty bearing:-
"Listen to me, Christian," and there was something in her
tone that gave an impression of solemnity to her words; "listen
to me: you have made me suffer cruelly since I became your
wife. I have never said anything but once the first time, you
remember. After that, when I saw that you had ceased to love
--
## p. 4464 (#238) ###########################################
4464
ALPHONSE DAUDET
me, I left you to yourself. Not that I was ignorant of anything
you did —not one of your infidelities, not one of your follies
remained unknown to me. For you must indeed be mad, mad
like your father, who died of exhaustion, mad with love for Lola;
mad like your grandfather John, who died in a shameful delirium,
foaming and framing kisses with the death-rattle in his throat,
and uttering words that made the Sisters of Charity grow pale.
Yes, it is the same fevered blood, the same hellish passion that
devours you.
At Ragusa, on the nights of the sortie, it was at
Fodora's that they sought you. I knew it, I knew that she had
left her theatre to follow you. I never uttered a single reproach.
The honor of your name was saved. And when the King was
absent from the ramparts, I took care his place should not be
empty. But here in Paris-"
Till now she had spoken slowly, coldly, in a tone of pity and
maternal reproof, as though inspired thereto by the downcast
eyes and pouting mouth of the King, who looked like a vicious
child receiving a scolding. But the name of Paris exasperated
her. A city without faith, a city cynical and accursed, its blood-
stained stones ever ready for sedition and barricades! What pos-
sessed these poor fallen kings, that they came to take refuge in
this Sodom! It was Paris, it was its atmosphere tainted by car-
nage and vice that completed the ruin of the historical houses;
it was this that had made Christian lose what the maddest of his
ancestors had always known how to preserve the respect and
pride of their race. Oh! When on the very day of their arrival,
the first night of their exile, she had seen him so excited, so gay,
while all around him were secretly weeping, Frédérique had
guessed the humiliation and shame she would have to undergo.
Then in one breath, without pausing, with cutting words that
lashed the pallid face of the royal rake, and striped it red as
with a whip, she recalled one after the other all his follies, his
rapid descent from pleasure to vice, and vice to crime.
"You have deceived me under my very eyes, in my own
house; adultery has sat at my table, it has brushed against my
dress.
When you were tired of that dollish little face who had
not even the grace to conceal her tears, you went to the gutter,
wallowing shamelessly in the slime and mud of the streets, and
bringing back the dregs of your orgies, of your sickly remorse,
all the pollution of the mire. Remember how I saw you totter
and stammer on that morning, when for the second time you lost
――――
## p. 4465 (#239) ###########################################
ALPHONSE DAUDET
4465
your throne. What have you not done! Holy Mother of angels!
What have you not done! You have traded with the royal seal,
you have sold crosses and titles. "
And in a lower tone, as though she feared lest the stillness
and silence of the night might hear, she added:-
"You have stolen, yes, stolen! Those diamonds, those stones
torn from the crown-it was you who did it, and I allowed my
faithful Greb to be suspected and dismissed. The theft being
known, it was necessary to find a sham culprit to prevent the
real one ever being discovered. For this has been my one, my
constant preoccupation: to uphold the King, to keep him un-
touched; to accept everything for that purpose, even the shame
which in the eyes of the world will end by sullying me. I had
adopted a watchword that sustained me, and encouraged me in
my hours of trial: All for the crown! ' And now you want to
sell it that crown that has cost me such anguish and such
tears; you want to barter it for gold, for the lifeless mask of that
Jewess, whom you had the indecency to bring face to face with
me to-day. "
Crushed, bending low his head, he had hitherto listened with-
out a word, but the insult directed against the woman he loved
roused him.
can hear a long plaintive neighing. It is the Dauphin's
little sorrel pony, whom the grooms are neglecting, and who
calls sadly from his empty manger. And the King - where is his
Majesty the King?
The King has shut himself up in a room
remote part of the castle. Their Majesties do not like to
be seen weeping. But the Queen-that is different. Seated by
the little prince's pillow, her beautiful face bathed in tears, she
sobs bitterly before every one, just as a peasant mother would.
one
in a
In his lace crib is the little Dauphin, whiter than the cushions
on which he reposes, with closed eyelids. They think he is
sleeping; but no, the little Dauphin does not sleep. He turns
toward
his mother, and seeing that she weeps, he says to her,
"Madame my Queen, why do you weep? Do you think truly
that I
am going to die? " The Queen wishes to reply, but sobs
prevent her speaking.
"Pray do not cry, Madame my Queen.
## p. 4448 (#222) ###########################################
4448
ALPHONSE DAUDET
You forget that I am the Dauphin, and Dauphins cannot die
thus. " The Queen sobs more bitterly still, and the little Dauphin
begins to be frightened. "Hola! " he says, "I do not wish to
have Death come and take me; and I shall know how to prevent
his coming here. Bring forth forty lancers, our strongest, to
mount guard around our bed; a hundred cannon night and day;
torches lighted beneath our windows. And unhappy Death if he
dares to approach us then! " The Queen gives a sign to please
the royal child. Forthwith, one can hear heavy cannon being
rolled across the courtyard; and forty soldiers, halberds in hand,
come and range themselves around the room: they are veterans,
with gray moustaches. The little Dauphin claps his hands feebly
as he sees them, and recognizing one he calls him by name,
"Lorrain! Lorrain! " The old soldier takes a step towards the
bed. "I love you well, my good Lorrain. Let me see your big
sword. If Death comes to take me, we must kill him, must we
not? " Lorrain replies, "Yes, Monseigneur," as the big tears
run down his bronzed cheeks.
At this moment the chaplain approaches the little Dauphin,
and talks to him for some time in a low tone, showing him a
crucifix. The little Dauphin listens with an astonished air; then
suddenly interrupting, "I understand well what you say, Mon-
sieur l'Abbé; but after all, could not my little friend Beppo die
in my place, if we should give him a great deal of money? »
The chaplain continues talking to him in a low voice, and
the little Dauphin looks more and more astonished. When the
chaplain has finished, the little Dauphin resumes, with a heavy
sigh, "All that you tell me is very sad, Monsieur l'Abbé, but
one thing consoles me: up there, in the paradise of stars, I shall
still be the Dauphin. I know that our good God is my cousin,
and would not fail to treat me according to my rank. " Then he
adds, turning to his mother, "Have my finest garments brought
-my ermine cloak and velvet slippers. I wish to array myself
for the angels, and enter paradise dressed as a Dauphin. "
A third time the chaplain bends over the little prince, and
talks a long time in whispering tones. The royal child inter-
rupts him in anger, in the midst of his discourse, and cries,
Then it is no use to be Dauphin,- it is nothing at all; >> and
not wishing to hear more, he turns toward the wall weeping.
<<
Translation of Mary Corey.
1
## p. 4449 (#223) ###########################################
ALPHONSE DAUDET
JACK IS INVITED TO TAKE UP A "PROFESSION »
From 'Jack'
4449
"D°
o you hear, Jack? " resumed D'Argenton, with flashing eyes
and outstretched arm. "In four years you will be a
good workman; that is to say, the noblest, grandest thing
that can exist in this world of slavery and servitude. In four
years you will be that sacred, venerated thing, a good work-
man! "
VIII-279
Yes, indeed he heard it! "a good workman. " Only he was
bewildered and was trying to understand.
The child had seen workmen in Paris. There were some
who lived in the Passage des Douze Maisons, and not far from
the Gymnase there was a factory, from which he often watched
them as they left work at about six o'clock; a crowd of dirty-
looking men with their blouses all stained with oil, and their
rough hands blackened and deformed by work.
The idea that he would have to wear a blouse struck him at
once. He remembered the tone of contempt with which his
mother would say: "Those are workmen, men in blouses, "— the
care she took in the streets to avoid the contact of their soiled
garments. Labassindre's fine speeches on the duties and in-
fluence of the workingman in the nineteenth century attenuated
and contradicted, it is true, these vague impressions. But what
he did understand, and that most clearly and bitterly, was that
he must go away, leave the forest whose tree-tops he saw from
the window, leave the Rivalses, leave his mother, his mother
whom he had recovered at the cost of so much pain, and whom
he loved so tenderly.
What on earth was she doing at that window all this time,
seeming so indifferent to all that was going on around her?
Within the last few minutes, however, she had lost her immov-
able indifference. A convulsive shudder seemed to shake her
from head to foot, and the hand she held over her eyes closed
over them as if she were hiding tears. Was it then so sad a
sight that she beheld yonder in the country, on the far horizon
where the sun sets, and where so many dreams, so many illu-
sions, so many loves and passions sink and disappear, never to
return?
## p. 4450 (#224) ###########################################
ALPHONSE DAUDET
4450
"Then I shall have to go away? " inquired the child in a
smothered voice, and the automatic air of one who lets his
thought speak, the one thought that absorbed him.
At this artless question all the members of the tribunal
looked at each other with a smile of pity; but over there at the
window a great sob was heard.
"We shall start in a week, my lad," answered Labassindre
briskly. "I have not seen my brother for a long time. I shall
avail myself of this opportunity to renew my acquaintance with
the fire of my old forge, by Jove! "
As he spoke, he turned back his sleeve, distending the mus-
cles of his brawny, hairy, tattooed arm, till they looked ready to
burst.
"He is superb," said Dr. Hirsch.
D'Argenton, however, who did not lose sight of the sobbing
woman standing at the window, had an absent air, and a terrible
frown gathering on his brow.
"You can go, Jack," he said to the child, "and prepare to
start in a week. "
Jack went down-stairs, dazed and stupefied, repeating to him-
self, "In a week! in a week! " The street door was open; he
rushed out, bare-headed, just as he was, dashed through the
village to the house of his friends, and meeting the Doctor, who
was just going out, informed him in a few words of what had
taken place.
Monsieur Rivals was indignant.
"A workman! They want to make a workman of you? Is
that what they call looking after your prospects in life? Wait a
moment. I am going to speak myself to monsieur your step-
father. "
The villagers who saw them pass by, the worthy Doctor
gesticulating and talking out loud, and little Jack, bare-headed
and breathless from running, said, "There is certainly some one
very ill at Les Aulnettes. "
No one was ill, most assuredly. When the Doctor arrived
they were sitting down to table; for on account of the capricious
appetite of the master of the house, and as in all places where
ennui reigns supreme, the hours for the meals were constantly
being changed.
The faces around were cheerful; Charlotte could even be
heard humming on the stairs as she came down from her room.
## p. 4451 (#225) ###########################################
ALPHONSE DAUDET
E
e
0
e
1
4451
"I should like to say a word to you, M. d'Argenton," said
old Rivals with quivering lips.
The poet twirled his moustache:
_______
"Well, Doctor, sit down there. They shall give you a plate
and you can say your word while you eat your breakfast.
>>>
"No, thank you, I am not hungry; besides, what I have to
say to you as well as to Madame "- he bowed to Charlotte, who
had just come in "is strictly private. "
"I think I can guess your errand," said D'Argenton, who did
not care for a tête-à-tête conversation with the Doctor.
about the child, is it not? "
"It is
"You are right; it is about the child. "
"In that case you can speak. These gentlemen know the cir-
cumstances, and my actions are always too loyal and too dis-
interested for me to fear the light of day. "
«< But, my dear! " Charlotte ventured to say, shocked for
many reasons at the idea of this discussion before strangers.
"You can speak, Doctor," said D'Argenton coldly.
Standing upright in front of the table, the Doctor began:—
"Jack has just told me that you intend to send him as an
apprentice to the iron works at Indret. Is this serious? Come! "
"Quite serious, my dear Doctor. "
"Take care," pursued M. Rivals, restraining his anger; "that
child has not been brought up for so hard a life. At a growing
age you are going to throw him out of his element into new sur-
roundings, a new atmosphere. His health, his life are involved.
He has none of the requisites needed to bear this. He is not
strong enough. "
"Oh! allow me, my dear colleague," put in Dr. Hirsch sol-
emnly.
M. Rivals shrugged his shoulders, and without even looking
at him, went on:
"It is I who tell you so, Madame. ”
He pointedly addressed himself to Charlotte, who was singu-
larly embarrassed by this appeal to her repressed feelings.
"Your child cannot possibly endure a life of this sort. You
surely know him, you who are his mother. You know that his
nature is a refined and delicate one, and that it will be unable
to resist fatigue. And here I only speak of the physical pain.
But do you not know what terrible sufferings a child so well
gifted, with a mind so capable and ready to receive all kinds of
## p. 4452 (#226) ###########################################
4452
ALPHONSE DAUDET
knowledge, will feel in the forced inaction, the death of intel-
lectual faculties to which you are about to condemn him? ”
"You are mistaken, Doctor," said D'Argenton, who was get-
ting very angry. "I know the fellow better than any one. I
have tried him. He is only fit for manual labor. His aptitudes
lie there, and there only. And it is when I furnish him with
the means of developing his aptitudes, when I put into his hands
a magnificent profession, that instead of thanking me, my fine
gentleman goes off complaining to strangers, seeking protectors
outside of his own home. "
Jack was going to protest. His friend however saved him the
trouble.
"He did not come to complain. He only informed me of
your decision, and I said to him what I now repeat to him before
you all:- 'Jack, my child, do not let them do it.
Throw your-
self into the arms of your parents, of your mother who loves
you, of your mother's husband, who for her sake must love
you. Entreat them, implore them. Ask them what you have
done to deserve to be thus degraded, to be made lower than
themselves! >»
"Doctor," exclaimed Labassindre, bringing his fist heavily
down upon the table, making it tremble and shake, "the tool
does not degrade the man, it ennobles him. The tool is the
regenerator of mankind. Christ handled a plane when he was
ten years of age.
"That is indeed true," said Charlotte, who at once conjured
up the vision of her little Jack dressed for the procession of the
Fête-Dieu as the child Jesus, armed with a little plane.
"Don't be taken in by such balderdash, Madame," said the
exasperated doctor. "To make a workman of your son is to
separate him from you forever. If you were to send him to the
other end of the world, he could not be further from your mind,
from your heart; for you would have, in this case, means of
drawing together again, whereas social distances are irremediable.
You will see. The day will come when you will be ashamed of
your child, when you will find his hands rough, his language
coarse, his sentiments totally different from yours. He will stand
one day before you, before his mother, as before a stranger of
higher rank than himself,-not only humbled, but degraded. "
Jack, who had hitherto not uttered a word, but had listened
attentively from a corner near the sideboard, was suddenly
## p. 4453 (#227) ###########################################
ALPHONSE DAUDET
4453
alarmed at the idea of any possible disaffection springing up
between his mother and himself.
He advanced into the middle of the room, and steadying his
voice:
"I will not be a workman," he said in a determined manner.
"O Jack! " murmured Charlotte, faltering.
This time it was D'Argenton who spoke.
"Oh, really! you will not be a workman? Look at this fine
gentleman who will or who will not accept a thing that I have
decided. You will not be a workman, eh? But you are quite
willing to be clothed, fed, and amused. Well, I solemnly declare
that I have had enough of you, you horrid little parasite; and
that if you do not choose to work, I for my part refuse to be
any longer your victim. "
-
He stopped abruptly, and passing from his mad rage to the
chilly manner which was habitual to him: —
"Go up to your room," he said; "I will consider what
remains to be done. "
"What remains to be done, my dear D'Argenton, I will soon
tell you. "
But Jack did not hear the end of Monsieur Rivals's phrase,
D'Argenton with a shove having thrust him out.
The noise of the discussion reached him in his room, like the
various parts in a great orchestra. He distinguished and recog-
nized all the voices, but they melted one into the other, united
by their resonance, and made a discordant uproar through which
some bits of phrases were alone intelligible.
"It is an infamous lie. "
"Messieurs! Messieurs! "
"Life is not a romance.
"Sacred blouse, beûh! beûh ! »
w
>>
At last old Rivals's voice could be heard thundering as he
crossed the threshold:
"May I be hanged if ever I put my foot in your house again! "
Then the door was violently slammed, and a great silence
fell on the dining-room, broken only by the clatter of knives and
forks.
They were breakfasting.
"You wish to degrade him, to make him something lower
than yourself. " The child remembered that phrase, and he felt.
that this was indeed his enemy's intention.
## p. 4454 (#228) ###########################################
ALPHONSE DAUDET
4454
Well, no; a thousand times no-he would not be a workman.
The door opened, and his mother came in.
She had cried a great deal, had shed real tears, tears such as
furrow the cheek. For the first time, a mother showed herself
in that pretty woman's face, an afflicted and sorrowing mother.
"Listen to me, Jack," she said, striving to appear severe; "I
must speak very seriously to you. You have made me very
unhappy by putting yourself in open rebellion against your real
friends, and by refusing to accept the situation they offer you.
I am well aware that there is in the new existence
While she spoke, she carefully avoided meeting the child's
eyes, for they had such an expression of desperate grief and
heartfelt reproach that she would not have been able to resist
their appeal.
«< - That there is, in the new existence we have chosen for
you, an apparent inconsistency with the life you have hitherto
been leading. I confess that I was myself at first rather startled
by it, but you heard, did you not, what was said to you? The
position of a workman is no longer what it used to be; oh no!
not at all the same thing, not at all. You must know that the
time of the working-man has now come. The middle classes
have had their day, the aristocracy likewise. Although, I must
say, the aristocracy - Moreover, is it not more natural at your
age, to allow yourself to be guided by those who love you, and
who are experienced? "
A sob from the child interrupted her.
"Then you too send me away; you too send me away. "
This time the mother could no longer resist. She took him
in her arms, clasped him passionately to her heart:-
"I send you away? How can you imagine such a thing?
Is it possible? Come, be calm; don't tremble and give way like
that. You know how I love you, and how, if it only depended
on me, we would never leave each other. But we must be rea-
sonable, and think a little of the future. Alas! the future is
already dark enough for us. "
And in one of those outbursts of words that she still had
sometimes when freed from the presence of the master, she en-
deavored to explain to Jack, with all kinds of hesitations and
reticences, the irregularity of their position.
"You see, my darling, you are still very young; there are
many things you cannot understand. Some day, when you are
## p. 4455 (#229) ###########################################
ALPHONSE DAUDET
4455
older, I will reveal to you the secret of your birth; quite a
romance, my dear!
Some day I will tell you the name of your
father, and the unheard-of fatality of which your mother and
yourself have been the victims. But for the present, what you
must know and thoroughly comprehend, is that nothing here
belongs to us, my poor child, and that we are absolutely depend-
ent on him. How can I therefore oppose your departure, espe-
cially when I know that he wants you to leave for your good?
I cannot ask him for anything more. He has already done so
much for us. Besides, he is not rich, and this terrible artistic
career is so expensive! He could not undertake the expense of
your education. What will become of me between you two?
We must come to a decision. Remember that it was a profes-
sion you were being given. Would you not be proud of being
independent, of gaining your own livelihood, of being your own
master? »
She saw at once by the flash in the child's eye that she had
struck home; and in a low tone, in the caressing, coaxing voice
of a mother, she murmured: -
"Do it for my sake, Jack; will you? Put yourself in a posi-
tion that will enable you soon to gain your livelihood. Who
knows if some day I may not be obliged myself to have recourse
to you as my only protector, my only friend? "
Did she really think what she said? Was it a presentiment,
one of those sudden glimpses into the future which unfold to
us our destiny and reveal the failure and disappointments of our
existence? Or had she been merely carried away in the whirl-
wind words of her impulsive sentimentality?
In any case she could not have found a better argument to
convince that little generous spirit. The effect was instantaneous.
The idea that his mother might want him, that he could help
her by his work, suddenly decided him.
He looked her straight in the face.
"Swear that you will always love me, that you will never be
ashamed of me when my hands are blackened! »
"If I shall love you, my Jack! "
Her only answer was to cover him with kisses, hiding her
agitation and her remorse under her passionate embraces; but
from that moment the wretched woman knew remorse, knew it
for the rest of her life; and could never think of her child
without feeling a stab in her heart.
## p. 4456 (#230) ###########################################
4456
ALPHONSE DAUDET
He however, as though he understood all the shame, un-
certainty, and terror concealed under these caresses, dashed
towards the stairs, to avoid dwelling on it.
"Come, mamma, let us go down. I am going to tell him I
accept his offer. "
Down-stairs the "Failures » were still at table. They were all
struck by the grave and determined look on Jack's face.
"I beg your pardon," he said to D'Argenton. "I did wrong
in refusing your proposal. I now accept it, and thank you. "
THE CITY OF IRON AND FIRE
From 'Jack'
THE
HE singer rose and stood upright in the boat, in which he
and the child were crossing the Loire a little above
Paim-
bœuf, and with a wide sweeping gesture of the arms, as if
he would have clasped the river within them, exclaimed:-
"Look at that, old boy; is not that grand? »
Notwithstanding the touch of grotesqueness and commonplace
in the actor's admiration, it was well justified by the splendid
landscape unrolling before their eyes.
river,
of a
It was about four o'clock in the afternoon. A July Sun, a
sun of melting silver, spread a long luminous pathway of rays
upon the waters. In the air was a tremulous reverberation, a mist
of light, through which appeared the gleaming light of the
active and silent, flashing upon the sight with the rapidity
mirage. Dimly seen sails high in the air, which in this dazzling
hour seem pale as flax, pass in the distance as if in flight.
They were great barges coming from Noirmoutiers, laden to the
very edge with white salt sparkling all over with shining
gles, and worked by picturesque crews; men with the
three-cornered hat of the Breton salt-worker, and women
great cushioned caps with butterfly wings were as white
glittering as the salt. Then there were coasting vessels
floating drays, their decks piled with sacks of flour and esks;
tugs dragging interminable lines of barges, or perhaps =
three-master of Nantes arriving from the other side of the w
orld,
returning to the native land after two years' absence, and 110V-
ing up the river with a slow, almost solemn motion, as if ear-
ing within it a silent contemplation of the old country, and
ome
I
the
Span-
great
hose
and
like
2
L
ས་! ་
## p. 4457 (#231) ###########################################
ALPHONSE DAUDET
4457
mysterious poetry belonging to all things that come from afar.
Notwithstanding the July heat, a strong breeze blew freshly over
the lovely scene, for the wind came up from the coast with the
cheerful freshness of the open sea, and let it be guessed that a
little further away, beyond those hurrying waves already aban-
doned by the calm tranquillity of still waters, lay the deep green.
of the limitless ocean, with its billows, its fogs, and its tempests.
"And Indret? where is it? " asks Jack.
"There, that island in front of us. "
In the silvery mist which enveloped the island, Jack saw con-
fusedly lines of great poplars and tall chimneys, whence issued a
thick filthy smoke, spreading over all, blackening even the sky
above it. At the same time he heard a clamorous and resound-
ing din, hammers falling on wrought and sheet iron, dull sounds,
ringing sounds, variously re-echoed by the sonority of the water;
and over everything a continuous and perpetual droning, as if
the island had been a great steamer, stopped, and murmuring,
moving its paddles while at anchor, and its machinery while yet
motionless.
As the boat approached the shore, slowly and yet more slowly,
-for the tide ran strongly and was hard to fight against,- the
child began to distinguish long buildings with low roofs, black-
ened walls extending on all sides with uniform dreariness; then,
on the banks of the river as far as the eye could reach, long
lines of enormous boilers painted with red lead, the startling color
giving a wildly fantastic effect. Government transports, steam
launches, ranged alongside the quay, lay waiting till these boilers
should be put on board by means of a great crane near at hand,
which viewed from a distance looked like a gigantic gibbet.
At the foot of this gallows stood a man watching the ap-
proach of the boat.
"It is Roudic," said the singer; and from the deepest depths
he brought forth a formidable "hurrah! " which made itself
heard even in the midst of all the din of forging and hammering.
"Is that you, young 'un? "
"Yes, by Jove, it is I; are there two such notes as mine in
the whole world? "
The boat touched the shore, and the two brothers sprang into
each other's arms with a mighty greeting.
They were alike; but Roudic was much older, and wanting in
that embonpoint so quickly acquired by singers in the exercise
of trills and sustained notes. Instead of the pointed beard of
## p. 4458 (#232) ###########################################
4458
ALPHONSE DAUDET
his brother, he was shaven, sunburnt; and his sailor's cap, a blue
wool knitted cap, shaded a true Breton face, tanned by the sea,
cut in granite, with small eyes, and a keen glance sharpened by
the minute work of a fitter and adjuster.
"And how are all at home? " asked Labassindre.
Zénaïde, every one? "
"Every one is quite well, thank Heaven. Ah, ah! this is our
new apprentice. He looks like a nice little chap; only he doesn't
look over strong. "
"Strong as a horse, my dear fellow, and warranted by the
Paris doctors. "
"So much the better, then, for ours is a roughish trade. And
now, if you are ready, let us go and see the manager. "
They followed a long alley of fine trees that soon changed
into a street, such as is found in small towns, bordered by white
houses, clean and all alike. Here lived a certain number of the
factory workmen, the foremen, and first hands. The others were
located on the opposite bank, at Montagne or at Basse Indre.
At this hour all was silent, life and movement being concen-
trated within the iron works; and had it not been for the linen
drying at the windows, the flower-pots ranged near the panes,
the occasional cry of a child, or the rhythmical rocking of a
cradle heard through some half-opened door, the place might
have been deemed uninhabited.
"Clarisse,
"Oh! the flag's down," said the singer, as they reached the
gate leading to the workshops. "What frights that confounded
flag has given me before now.
>>
And he explained to his "old Jack," that five minutes after
the arrival of the workmen for the opening hour, the flag over
the gate was lowered, and thus it was announced that the doors
were closed. So much the worse for those who were late; they
were marked down as absent, and at the third offense dismissed.
While he was giving these explanations, his brother conferred
with the gate-keeper, and they were admitted within the doors
of the establishment. The din was frightful; whistlings, groan-
ings, grindings, varying but never diminishing, were re-echoed
from many vast triangular-roofed sheds, standing at intervals on
a sloping ground intersected by numerous railways.
An iron city!
Their footsteps rang upon plates of metal incrusted in the
earth. They picked their way amid heaps of bar iron, pig iron,
ingots of copper; between rows of worn-out guns brought hither
## p. 4459 (#233) ###########################################
ALPHONSE DAUDET
4459
to be melted down, rusty outside, all black within and almost
smoking still, venerable masters of fire about to perish by fire.
Roudic, as they passed along, pointed out the various quar-
ters of the establishment: "This is the setting-up room, these
the workshops of the great lathe and little lathe, the braziery,
the forges, the foundry. " He had to shout, so deafening was the
noise.
Jack, half dazed, looked with surprise through the workshop
doors, nearly all open on account of the heat, at a swarming of
upraised arms, of blackened faces, of machinery in motion in a
cave-like darkness, dull and deep, lit up by brief flashes of red
light.
Out poured the hot air, with mingled odors of coal, burned
clay, molten iron and the impalpable black dust, sharp and burn-
ing, which in the sunlight had a metallic sparkle, the glitter of
coal that may become diamond.
But what gave a special character to these formidable works
was the perpetual commotion of both earth and air, a continual
trepidation, something like the striving of a huge beast impris-
oned beneath the foundry, whose groans and burning breath
burst hissing out through the yawning chimneys. Jack, fearful
of appearing too much of a novice, dared not ask what it was
made this noise, which even at a distance had so impressed
him.
.
As they talked, they passed along the streets of the iron-
works laid with rails, crowded at this hour, the working day just
at an end, with a concourse of men of all kinds and sizes and
trades; a motley of blouses, pilot jackets, the coats of the design-
ers mixing with the uniforms of the overseers.
The gravity with which this deliverance from toil was effected
struck Jack forcibly. He compared this scene with the cries, the
jostling on the pavements which in Paris enliven the exit from
the workshops, and make it as noisy as that of a school. Here,
rule and discipline were sensibly felt, just as on board a man-of-
war.
A warm mist of steam floated over this mass of human be-
ings, a steam that the sea breeze had not yet dispersed, and
which hung like a heavy cloud in the stillness of this July even-
ing. From the now silent workshops evaporated the odors of
the forge. Steam whistled forth in the gutters, sweat stood on
all the foreheads, and the panting that had puzzled Jack a little
## p. 4460 (#234) ###########################################
4460
ALPHONSE DAUDET
while ago had given place to a breath of relief from these two
thousand chests wearied with the day's labor.
As he passed through the crowd, Labassindre was soon recog-
nized.
"Hullo! young 'un, how are you? "
He was surrounded, his hand eagerly shaken, and from one
to another passed the words: -
"Here, look at Roudic's brother, the fellow who makes four
thousand pounds a year just by singing. "
Every one wished to see him, for one of the legends of the
workshops was this supposed fortune of the quondam blacksmith,
and since his departure more than one young fellow-worker had
searched to the very bottom of his larynx, to try if the famous
note, the note worth millions, were not by some happy chance to
be found there.
In the midst of this cortège of admirers, whom his theatrical
costume impressed still more, the singer walked along with his
head in the air, talking and laughing, casting "Good morning,
Father So-and-so! Good morning, Mother What-'s-your-name! "
towards the little houses enlivened by women's faces looking out,
towards the public-houses and cook-shops which were frequent in
this part of Indret; where also hawkers of all kinds held sway,
exposing their merchandise in the open air: blouses, shoes, hats,
kerchiefs, all the ambulating trumpery to be found in the neigh-
borhood of camps, barracks, and factories.
As they made their way through this display of wares, Jack
imagined he saw a familiar face, a smile, parting the various
groups to reach him; but it was only a lightning flash, a mere
vision swept away at once by the ever changing tide of the mass
flowing away and dispersing through the great industrial city,
and spreading itself over to the other side of the river in long
ferry-boats, active, numerous, heavily laden, as if it were the
passage of an army.
Evening was closing in over the dispersing crowd. The sun
went down. The wind freshened, moving the poplars like palms;
and the spectacle was imposing of the toiling island in its turn
sinking to repose, restored to nature for the night. As the
smoke cleared, masses of verdure became visible between the
workshops. The river could be heard lapping the banks; and
the swallows, skimming the water with tiny twitter, fluttered
around the great boilers ranged along the quay.
## p. 4461 (#235) ###########################################
ALPHONSE DAUDET
4461
THE WRATH OF A QUEEN
From Kings in Exile'
Α'
LL the magic beauty of that June night poured in through
the wide-open casement in the great hall. A single lighted
candelabrum scarcely disturbed the mystery of the moonlight,
which streamed in like a "milky way. " On the table, across some
dusty old papers, lay a crucifix of oxydized silver. By the side of
the crucifix was a thick broad sheet of parchment, covered with
a big and tremulous writing. It was the death-warrant of roy-
alty, wanting nothing but the signature, one stroke of the pen,
and a strong and violent effort of will to give this; and that was
the reason why this weak King hesitated, sitting motionless, his
elbows resting on the table, by the lighted candles prepared for
the royal seal.
―
Near him, anxious, prying, yet soft and smooth, like a night-
moth or the black bat that haunts ruins, Lebeau, the confidential
valet, watched him and silently encouraged him; for they had
arrived at the decisive moment that the gang had for months
expected, with alternate hopes and fears, with all the trepidation,
all the uncertainty attending a business dependent upon such a
puppet as this King. Notwithstanding the magnetism of this
overpowering desire, Christian, pen in hand, could not bring
himself to sign. Sunk down in his arm-chair, he gazed at the
parchment, and was lost in thought. It was not that he cared
for that crown, which he had neither wished for nor loved,
which as a child he had found too heavy, and that later in life
had bowed him down and crushed him by its terrible responsi-
bilities. He had felt no scruple in laying it aside, leaving it in
the corner of a room which he never entered, forgetting it as
much as possible when he was out; but he was scared at the
sudden determination, the irrevocable step he was about to take.
However, there was no other way of procuring money for his
new existence, no other means of meeting the hundred and
twenty thousand pounds' worth of bills he had signed, on which
payment would soon be due, and which the usurer, a certain
Pichery, picture-dealer, refused to renew. Could he allow an
execution to be put in at Saint-Mandé? And the Queen, the
royal child; what would become of them in that case? If he
must have a scene for he foresaw the terrible clamor his
## p. 4462 (#236) ###########################################
4462
ALPHONSE DAUDET
cowardice must rouse. was it not better to have it now, and
brave once fo all anger and recriminations? And then- all this
was not really the determining reason.
He had promised the Comtesse to sign this renunciation; and
on the faith of this promise, Séphora had consented to let her
husband start alone for London, and had accepted the mansion
Avenue de Messine, and the title and name that published her
to the world as the king's mistress, reserving, however, anything
further till the day when Christian himself would bring her the
deed, signed by his own hand. She assigned for this conduct
the reasons of a woman in love: he might, later on, return to
Illyria, abandon her for the throne and power; she would not be
the first person whom these terrible State reasons have made
tremble and weep. D'Axel, Wattelet, all the gommeux of the
Grand Club little guessed when the king, quitting the Avenue de
Messine, rejoined them at the club with heavy fevered eyes, that
he had spent the evening on a divan, by turns repulsed or
encouraged, his feelings played upon, his nerves unstrung by the
constant resistance; rolling himself at the feet of an immovable,
determined woman, who with a supple opposition abandoned to
his impassioned embrace only the cold little Parisian hands, so
skillful in defense and evasion, while she imprinted on his lips.
the scorching flame of the enrapturing words: -"Oh! when you
have ceased to be king, I shall be all yours-all yours! She
made him pass through all the dangerous phases of passion and
coldness; and often at the theatre, after an icy greeting and a
rapid smile, would slowly draw off her gloves and cast him a
tender glance; then, putting her bare hand in his, she would
seem to offer it up to his ardent kiss.
"Then you say, Lebeau, that Pichery will not renew? "
"He will not, sire. If the bills are not paid, the bailiffs will
be put in. "
-―――――
How well he emphasized with a despairing moan the word
"bailiffs," so as to convey the feeling of all the sinister formali-
ties that would follow: bills protested, an execution, the royal
hearth desecrated, the family turned out of doors. Christian
saw nothing of all this. His imagination carried him far away
to the Avenue de Messine: he saw himself arriving there in
the middle of the night, eager and quivering; ascending with
stealthy and hurried step the heavily carpeted stairs, entering the
room where the night-light burned, mysteriously veiled under
## p. 4463 (#237) ###########################################
ALPHONSE DAUDET
4463
lace:"It is done-I am no longer king. You are mine, mine. "
And the loved one held out her hand.
"Come," he exclaimed, starting out of his fleeting dream.
And he signed.
The door opened and the Queen appeared. Her presence in
Christian's rooms at such an hour was so unforeseen, so unex-
pected, they had lived so long apart, that neither the King in
the act of signing his infamy, nor Lebeau, who stood watching
him, turned round at the slight noise she made. They thought
it was Boscovich coming up from the garden. Gliding lightly
like a shadow, she was already near the table, and had reached
the two accomplices, when Lebeau saw her. With her finger on
her lips she motioned him to be silent, and continued to advance,
wishing to convict the king in the very act of his treachery, and
avoid all evasion, subterfuge, or useless dissimulation; but the
valet set her order at defiance and gave the alarm, "The Queen,
sire! "
The Dalmatian, furious, struck straight in the face of this
malevolent caitiff with the powerful hand of a woman accustomed
to handle the reins; and drawing herself up erect, waited till the
wretch had disappeared before she addressed the king.
"What has happened, my dear Frédérique ? and to what am I
indebted for-? "
Standing bent over the table that he strove to hide, in a
graceful attitude that showed off his silk jacket embroidered in
pink, he smiled, and although his lips were rather pale, his voice
remained calm, his speech easy, with that polished elegance
which never left him when addressing his wife, and which placed.
a barrier between them like a hard lacquer screen adorned with
flowery and intricate arabesques. With one word, one gesture,
she put aside the barrier behind which he would fain have shel-
tered himself.
"Oh! no phrases, no grimacing- if you please. I know what
you were writing there. Do not try to give me the lie. ”
Then drawing nearer, overwhelming his timorous objection by
her haughty bearing:-
"Listen to me, Christian," and there was something in her
tone that gave an impression of solemnity to her words; "listen
to me: you have made me suffer cruelly since I became your
wife. I have never said anything but once the first time, you
remember. After that, when I saw that you had ceased to love
--
## p. 4464 (#238) ###########################################
4464
ALPHONSE DAUDET
me, I left you to yourself. Not that I was ignorant of anything
you did —not one of your infidelities, not one of your follies
remained unknown to me. For you must indeed be mad, mad
like your father, who died of exhaustion, mad with love for Lola;
mad like your grandfather John, who died in a shameful delirium,
foaming and framing kisses with the death-rattle in his throat,
and uttering words that made the Sisters of Charity grow pale.
Yes, it is the same fevered blood, the same hellish passion that
devours you.
At Ragusa, on the nights of the sortie, it was at
Fodora's that they sought you. I knew it, I knew that she had
left her theatre to follow you. I never uttered a single reproach.
The honor of your name was saved. And when the King was
absent from the ramparts, I took care his place should not be
empty. But here in Paris-"
Till now she had spoken slowly, coldly, in a tone of pity and
maternal reproof, as though inspired thereto by the downcast
eyes and pouting mouth of the King, who looked like a vicious
child receiving a scolding. But the name of Paris exasperated
her. A city without faith, a city cynical and accursed, its blood-
stained stones ever ready for sedition and barricades! What pos-
sessed these poor fallen kings, that they came to take refuge in
this Sodom! It was Paris, it was its atmosphere tainted by car-
nage and vice that completed the ruin of the historical houses;
it was this that had made Christian lose what the maddest of his
ancestors had always known how to preserve the respect and
pride of their race. Oh! When on the very day of their arrival,
the first night of their exile, she had seen him so excited, so gay,
while all around him were secretly weeping, Frédérique had
guessed the humiliation and shame she would have to undergo.
Then in one breath, without pausing, with cutting words that
lashed the pallid face of the royal rake, and striped it red as
with a whip, she recalled one after the other all his follies, his
rapid descent from pleasure to vice, and vice to crime.
"You have deceived me under my very eyes, in my own
house; adultery has sat at my table, it has brushed against my
dress.
When you were tired of that dollish little face who had
not even the grace to conceal her tears, you went to the gutter,
wallowing shamelessly in the slime and mud of the streets, and
bringing back the dregs of your orgies, of your sickly remorse,
all the pollution of the mire. Remember how I saw you totter
and stammer on that morning, when for the second time you lost
――――
## p. 4465 (#239) ###########################################
ALPHONSE DAUDET
4465
your throne. What have you not done! Holy Mother of angels!
What have you not done! You have traded with the royal seal,
you have sold crosses and titles. "
And in a lower tone, as though she feared lest the stillness
and silence of the night might hear, she added:-
"You have stolen, yes, stolen! Those diamonds, those stones
torn from the crown-it was you who did it, and I allowed my
faithful Greb to be suspected and dismissed. The theft being
known, it was necessary to find a sham culprit to prevent the
real one ever being discovered. For this has been my one, my
constant preoccupation: to uphold the King, to keep him un-
touched; to accept everything for that purpose, even the shame
which in the eyes of the world will end by sullying me. I had
adopted a watchword that sustained me, and encouraged me in
my hours of trial: All for the crown! ' And now you want to
sell it that crown that has cost me such anguish and such
tears; you want to barter it for gold, for the lifeless mask of that
Jewess, whom you had the indecency to bring face to face with
me to-day. "
Crushed, bending low his head, he had hitherto listened with-
out a word, but the insult directed against the woman he loved
roused him.
