HYDROPHOBIA.
When the sick people, assembled in the courtyard, saw the desperate
efforts of Morok to force the door of the room which contained Sister
Martha and the orphans, their fright redoubled. "It is all over, Sister
Martha!" cried they.
"The door will give way."
"And the closet has no other entrance."
"There are two young girls in mourning with her."
"Come! we must not leave these poor women to encounter the madman. Follow
me, friends!" cried generously one of the spectators, who was still
blessed with health, and he rushed towards the steps to return to the
ante-chamber.
"It's too late! it's only exposing yourself in vain," cried many persons,
holding him back by force.
At this moment, voices were heard, exclaiming: "Here is the Abbe
Gabriel."
"He is coming downstairs. He has heard the noise."
"He is asking what is the matter."
"What will he do?"
Gabriel, occupied with a dying person in a neighboring room, had, indeed,
just learned that Morok, having broken his bonds, had succeeded in
escaping from the chamber in which he had been temporarily confined.
Foreseeing the terrible dangers which might result from the escape of the
lion-tamer, the missionary consulted only his courage, and hastened down,
in the hope of preventing greater misfortunes. In obedience to his
orders, an attendant followed him, bearing a brazier full of hot cinders,
on which lay several irons, at a white heat, used by the doctors for
cauterizing, in desperate cases of cholera.
The angelic countenance of Gabriel was very pale; but calm intrepidity
shone upon his noble brow. Hastily crossing the passage, and making his
way through the crowd, he went straight to the ante-chamber door. As he
approached it, one of the sick people said to him, in a lamentable voice;
"Ah, sir! it is all over. Those who can see through the window say that
Sister Martha is lost."
Gabriel made no answer, but grasped the key of the door. Before entering
the room, however, he turned to the attendant, and said to him in a firm
voice: "Are the irons of a white heat?"
"Yes, sir."
"Then wait here, and be ready. As for you, my friends," he added, turning
to some of the sick, who shuddered with terror, "as soon as I enter shut
the door after me. I will answer for the rest. And you; friend, only
bring your irons when I call."
And the young missionary turned the key in the lock. At this juncture, a
cry of alarm, pity, and admiration rose from every lip, and the
spectators drew back from the door, with an involuntary feeling of fear.
Raising his eyes to heaven, as if to invoke its assistance at this
terrible moment, Gabriel pushed open the door, and immediately closed it
behind him. He was alone with Morok.
The lion-tamer, by a last furious effort, had almost succeeded in opening
the door, to which Sister Martha and the orphans were clinging, in a fit
of terror, uttering piercing cries. At the sound of Gabriel's footsteps,
Morok turned round suddenly. Then, instead of continuing his attack on
the closet, he sprang, with a roar and a bound, upon the new-comer.
During this time, Sister Martha and the orphans, not knowing the cause of
the sudden retreat of their assailant, took advantage of the opportunity
to close and bolt the door, and thus placed themselves in security from a
new attack. Morok, with haggard eye, and teeth convulsively clinched, had
rushed upon Gabriel, his hands extended to seize him by the throat. The
missionary stood the shock valiantly. Guessing, at a glance, the
intention of his adversary, he seized him by the wrists as he advanced,
and, holding him back, bent him down violently with a vigorous hand. For
a second, Morok and Gabriel remained mute, breathless, motionless, gazing
on each other; then the missionary strove to conquer the efforts of the
madman, who, with violent jerks, attempted to throw himself upon him, and
to seize and tear him with his teeth.
Suddenly the lion-tamer's strength seemed to fail, his knees quivered,
his livid head sank upon his shoulder, his eyes closed. The missionary,
supposing that a momentary weakness had succeeded to the fit of rage, and
that the wretch was about to fall, relaxed his hold in order to lend him
assistance. But no sooner did he feel himself at liberty, thanks to his
crafty device, than Morok flung himself furiously upon Gabriel. Surprised
by this sudden attack, the latter stumbled, and at once felt himself
clasped into the iron arms of the madman. Yet, with redoubled strength
and energy, struggling breast to breast, foot to foot, the missionary in
his turn succeeded in tripping up his adversary, and, throwing him with a
vigorous effort, again seized his hands, and now held him down beneath
his knee. Having thus completely mastered him, Gabriel turned his head to
call for assistance, when Morok, by a desperate strain, succeeded in
raising himself a little, and seized with his teeth the left arm of the
missionary. At this sharp, deep, horrible bite, which penetrated to the
very bone, Gabriel could not restrain a scream of anguish and horror. He
strove in vain to disengage himself, for his arm was held fast, as in a
vice, between the firm-set jaws of Morok.
This frightful scene had lasted less time than it has taken in the
description, when suddenly the door leading to the passage was violently
opened, and several courageous men, who had learned from the patients to
what danger the young priest was exposed, came rushing to his assistance,
in spite of his recommendation not to enter till he should call. The
attendant was amongst the number, with the brazier and the hot irons.
Gabriel, as soon as he perceived him, said to him in an agitated voice:
"Quick, friend! your iron. Thank God I had thought of that."
One of the men who had entered the room was luckily provided with a
blanket; and the moment the missionary succeeded in wresting his arm from
the clinched teeth of Morok, whom he still held down with his knee, this
blanket was thrown over the madman's head, so that he could now be held
and bound without danger, notwithstanding his desperate resistance. Then
Gabriel rose, tore open the sleeve of his cassock, and laying bare his
left arm, on which a deep bite was visible, bleeding, of a bluish color,
he beckoned the attendant to draw near, seized one of the hot irons, and,
with a firm and sure hand, twice applied the burning metal to the wound,
with a calm heroism which struck all the spectators, with admiration. But
soon so many various emotions, intrepidly sustained, were followed by a
natural reaction. Large drops of sweat stood upon Gabriel's brow; his
long light hair clung to his temples; he grew deadly pale, reeled, lost
his senses, and was carried into the next room to receive immediate
attention.
An accidental circumstance, likely enough to occur, had converted one of
the Princess de Saint-Dizier's falsehoods into a truth. To induce the
orphans to go to the hospital, she had told them Gabriel was there, which
at the time she was far from believing. On the contrary, she would have
wished to prevent a meeting, which, from the attachment of the missionary
to the girls, might interfere with her projects. A little while after the
terrible scene we have just related, Rose and Blanche, accompanied by
Sister Martha, entered a vast room, of a strange and fatal aspect,
containing a number of women who had suddenly been seized with cholera.
These immense apartments, generously supplied for the purpose of a
temporary hospital, had been furnished with excessive luxury. The room
now occupied by the sick women, of whom we speak, had been used for a
ball-room. The white panels glittered with sumptuous gilding, and
magnificent pier-glasses occupied the spaces between the windows, through
which could be seen the fresh verdure of a pleasant garden, smiling
beneath the influence of budding May. In the midst of all this gilded
luxury, on a rich, inlaid floor of costly woods, were seen arranged in
regular order four rows of beds, of every shape and kind, from the humble
truckle-bed to the handsome couch in carved mahogany.
This long room was divided into two compartments by a temporary
partition, four or five feet in height. They had thus been able to manage
the four rows of beds. This partition finished at some little distance
from either end of the room, so as to leave an open space without beds,
for the volunteer attendants, when the sick did not require their aid. At
one of these extremities of the room was a lofty and magnificent marble
chimney piece, ornamented with gilt bronze. On the fire beneath, various
drinks were brewing for the patients. To complete the singular picture,
women of every class took their turns in attending upon the sick, to
whose sighs and groans they always responded with consoling words of hope
and pity. Such was the place, strange and mournful, that Rose and Blanche
entered together, hand in hand, a short time after Gabriel had displayed
such heroic courage in the struggle against Morok. Sister Martha
accompanied Marshal Simon's daughters. After speaking a few words to them
in a whisper, she pointed out to them the two divisions in which the beds
were arranged, and herself went to the other end of the room to give some
orders.
The orphans, still under the impression of the terrible danger from which
Gabriel had rescued them without their knowing it, were both excessively
pale; yet their eyes were expressive of firm resolution. They had
determined not only to perform what they considered an imperative duty,
but to prove themselves worthy of their valiant father; they were acting
too for their mother's sake, since they had been told that, dying in
Siberia without receiving the sacrament, her eternal felicity might
depend on the proofs they gave of Christian devotion. Need we add that
the Princess de Saint-Dizier, following the advice of Rodin, had, in a
second interview, skillfully brought about without the knowledge of
Dagobert, taken advantage of the excitable qualities of these poor,
confiding, simple, and generous souls, by a fatal exaggeration of the
most noble and courageous sentiments. The orphans having asked Sister
Martha if Madame Augustine du Tremblay had been brought to this asylum
within the last three days, that person had answered, that she really did
not know, but, if they would go through the women's wards, it would be
easy for them to ascertain. For the abominable hypocrite, who, in
conjunction with Rodin, had sent these two children to encounter a mortal
peril, had told an impudent falsehood when she affirmed that their
governess had been removed to this hospital. During their exile, and
their toilsome journey with Dagobert, the sisters had been exposed to
many hard trials. But never had they witnessed so sad a spectacle as that
which now offered itself to their view.
The long row of beds, on which so many poor creatures writhed in agony,
some uttering deep groans, some only a dull rattle in the throat, some
raving in the delirium of fever, or calling on those from whom they were
about to part forever--these frightful sights and sounds, which are too
much even for brave men, would inevitably, (such was the execrable design
of Rodin and his accomplices) make a fatal impression on these young
girls, urged by the most generous motives to undertake this perilous
visit. And then--sad memory! which awoke, in all its deep and poignant
bitterness, by the side of the first beds they came to--it was of this
very malady, the Cholera, that their mother had died a painful death.
Fancy the twins entering this vast room, of so fearful an aspect, and,
already much shaken by the terror which Morok had inspired, pursuing
their search in the midst of these unfortunate creatures, whose dying
pangs reminded them every instant of the dying agony of their mother! For
a moment, at sight of the funeral hall, Rose and Blanche had felt their
resolution fail them. A black presentiment made them regret their heroic
imprudence; and, moreover, since several minutes they had begun to feel
an icy shudder, and painful shootings across the temples; but,
attributing these symptoms to the fright occasioned by Morok, their good
and valiant natures soon stifled all these fears. They exchanged glances
of affection, their courage revived, and both of them--Rose on one side
of the partition, and Blanche on the other--proceeded with their painful
task. Gabriel, carried to the doctors' private room, had soon recovered
his senses. Thanks to his courage and presence of mind, his wound,
cauterized in time, could have no dangerous consequences. As soon as it
was dressed he insisted on returning to the women's ward, where he had be
offering pious consolations to a dying person at the moment they had come
to inform him of the frightful danger caused by the escape of Morok.
A few minutes before the missionary entered the room, Rose and Blanche
arrived almost together at the term of their mournful search, one from
the left, the other from the right-hand row of beds, separated by the
partition which divided the hall into compartments. The sisters had not
yet seen each other. Their steps tottered as they advanced, and they were
forced, from time to time, to lean against the beds as they passed along.
Their strength was--rapidly failing them. Giddy with fear and pain, they
appeared to act almost mechanically. Alas! the orphans had been seized
almost at the same moment with the terrible symptoms of cholera. In
consequence of that species of physiological phenomenon, of which we have
already spoken--a phenomenon by no means rare in twins, which had already
been displayed on one or two occasions of their sickness--their
organizations seemed liable to the same sensations, the same simultaneous
accidents, like two flowers on one stem, which bloom and fade together.
The sight of so much suffering, and so many deaths, had accelerated the
development of this dreadful disease. Already, on their agitated and
altered countenances, they bore the mortal tokens of the contagion, as
they came forth, each on her own side, from the two subdivisions of the
room in which they had vainly sought their governess. Until now separated
by the partition, Rose and Blanche had not yet seen each other; but, when
at length their eyes met, there ensued a heart rending scene.