THE APPOINTMENT.
The morning after--Dupont's mission to Prince Djalma, the latter was
walking with hasty and impatient step up and down the little saloon,
which communicated, as we already know, with the greenhouse from which
Adrienne had entered when she first appeared to him. In remembrance of
that day, he had chosen to dress himself as on the occasion in question;
he wore the same tunic of white cashmere, with a cherry-colored turban,
to match with his girdle; his gaiters, of scarlet velvet, embroidered
with silver, displayed the fine form of his leg, and terminated in small
white morocco slippers, with red heels. Happiness has so instantaneous,
and, as it were, material an influence upon young, lively, and ardent
natures, that Djalma, dejected and despairing only the day before, was no
longer like the same person. The pale, transparent gold of his complexion
was no longer tarnished by a livid hue. His large eyes, of late obscured
like black diamonds by a humid vapor, now shone with mild radiance in the
centre of their pearly setting; his lips, long pale, had recovered their
natural color, which was rich and soft as the fine purple flowers of his
country.
Ever and anon, pausing in his hasty walk, he stopped suddenly, and drew
from his bosom a little piece of paper, carefully folded, which he
pressed to his lips with enthusiastic ardor. Then, unable to restrain the
expression of his full happiness, he uttered a full and sonorous cry of
joy, and with a bound he was in front of the plate-glass which separated
the saloon from the conservatory, in which he had first seen Mdlle. de
Cardoville. By a singular power of remembrance, or marvellous
hallucination of a mind possessed by a fixed idea, Djalma had often seen,
or fancied he saw, the adored semblance of Adrienne appear to him through
this sheet of crystal. The illusion had been so complete, that, with his
eyes ardently fixed on the vision he invoked, he had been able, with the
aid of a pencil dipped in carmine, to trace with astonishing exactness,
the profile of the ideal countenance which the delirium of his
imagination had presented to his view.[42] It was before these delicate
lines of bright carmine that Djalma now stood in deep contemplation,
after perusing and reperusing, and raising twenty times to his lips, the
letter he had received the night before from the hands of Dupont. Djalma
was not alone. Faringhea watched all the movements of the prince, with a
subtle, attentive, and gloomy aspect. Standing respectfully in a corner
of the saloon, the half-caste appeared to be occupied in unfolding and
spreading out Djalma's sash, light, silky Indian web, the brown ground of
which was almost entirely concealed by the exquisite gold and silver
embroidery with which it was overlaid.
The countenance of the half-caste wore a dark and gloomy expression. He
could not deceive himself. The letter from Mdlle. de Cardoville,
delivered by Dupont to Djalma, must have been the cause of the delight he
now experienced, for, without doubt, he knew himself beloved. In that
event, his obstinate silence towards Faringhea, ever since the latter had
entered the saloon, greatly alarmed the half-caste, who could not tell
what interpretation to put upon it. The night before, after parting with
Dupont, he had hastened, in a state of anxiety easily understood, to look
for the prince, in the hope of ascertaining the effect produced by Mdlle.
de Cardoville's letter. But he found the parlor door closed, and when he
knocked, he received no answer from within. Then, though the night was
far advanced, he had dispatched a note to Rodin, in which he informed him
of Dupont's visit and its probable intention. Djalma had indeed passed
the night in a tumult of happiness and hope, and a fever of impatience
quite impossible to describe. Repairing to his bed-chamber only towards
the morning, he had taken a few moments of repose, and had then dressed
himself without assistance.
Many times, but in vain, the half-caste had discreetly knocked at the
door of Djalma's apartment. It was only in the early part of the
afternoon that the prince had rung the bell to order his carriage to be
ready by half-past two. Faringhea having presented himself, the prince
had given him the order without looking at him, as he might have done to
any other of his servants. Was this suspicion, aversion, or mere absence
of mind on the part of Djalma? Such were the questions which the half
caste put to himself with growing anguish; for the designs of which he
was the most active and immediate instrument might all be ruined by the
least suspicion in the prince.
"Oh! the hours--the hours--how slow they are!" cried the young Indian,
suddenly, in a low and trembling voice.
"The day before yesterday, my lord, you said the hours were very long,"
observed Faringhea, as he drew near Djalma in order to attract his
attention. Seeing that he did not succeed in this he advanced a few steps
nearer, and resumed: "Your joy seems very great, my lord; tell the cause
of it to your poor and faithful servant, that he also may rejoice with
you."
If he heard the words, Djalma did not pay any attention to them. He made
no answer, and his large black eyes gazed upon vacancy. He seemed to
smile admiringly upon some enchanting vision, and he folded his two hands
upon his bosom, in the attitude which his countrymen assume at the hour
of prayer. After some instants of contemplation, he said: "What o'clock
is it?"--but he asked this question of himself, rather than of any third
person.
"It will soon be two o'clock, my lord," said Faringhea.
Having heard this answer, Djalma seated himself, and hid his face in his
hands, as if completely absorbed in some ineffable meditation. Urged on
by his growing anxiety, and wishing at any cost to attract the attention
of Djalma, Faringhea approached still nearer to him, and, almost certain
of the effect of the words he was about to utter, said to him in a slow
and emphatic voice: "My lord, I am sure that you owe the happiness which
now transports you to Mdlle. de Cardoville."
Hardly had this name been pronounced, than Djalma started from his chair,
looked the half-breed full in the face, and exclaimed, as if only just
aware of his presence, "Faringhea! you here!--what is the matter?"
"Your faithful servant shares in your joy, my lord."
"What joy?"
"That which the letter of Mdlle. de Cardoville has occasioned, my lord."
Djalma returned no answer, but his eye shone with so much serene
happiness, that the half-caste recovered from his apprehensions. No cloud
of doubt or suspicion obscured the radiant features of the prince. After
a few moments of silence, Djalma fixed upon the half-caste a look
half-veiled with a tear of joy, and said to him, with the expression of
one whose heart overflows with love and happiness: "Oh! such delight is
good--great--like heaven!--for it is heaven which--"
"You deserve this happiness, my lord, after so many sufferings."
"What sufferings?--Oh! yes. I formerly suffered at Java; but that was
years ago."
"My lord, this great good fortune does not astonish me. What have I
always told you? Do not despair; feign a violent passion for some other
woman, and then this proud young lady--"
At these words Djalma looked at the half-caste with so piercing a glance,
that the latter stopped short; but the prince said to him with
affectionate goodness, "Go on! I listen."
Then, leaning his chin upon his hand, and his elbow on his knee, he gazed
so intently on Faringhea, and yet with such unutterable mildness, that
even that iron soul was touched for a moment with a slight feeling of
remorse.
"I was saying, my lord," he resumed, "that by following the counsels of
your faithful slave, who persuaded you to feign a passionate love for
another woman, you have brought the proud Mdlle. de Cardoville to come to
you. Did I not tell you it would be so?"
"Yes, you did tell me so," answered Djalma, still maintaining the same
position, and examining the half-caste with the same fixed and mild
attention.
The surprise of Faringhea increased; generally, the prince, without
treating him with the least harshness, preserved the somewhat distant and
imperious manners of their common country, and he had never before spoken
to him with such extreme mildness. Knowing all the evil he had done the
prince, and suspicious as the wicked must ever be, the half-caste thought
for a moment, that his master's apparent kindness might conceal a snare.
He continued, therefore, with less assurance, "Believe me, my lord, this
day, if you do but know how to profit by your advantages, will console
you for all your troubles, which have indeed been great--for only
yesterday, though you were generous enough to forget it, only yesterday
you suffered cruelly--but you were not alone in your sufferings. This
proud young lady suffered also!"
"Do you think so?" said Djalma.
"Oh! it is quite sure, my lord. What must she not have felt, when she saw
you at the theatre with another woman!--If she loved you only a little,
she must have been deeply wounded in her self-esteem; if she loved you
with passion, she must have been struck to the heart. At length, you see,
wearied out with suffering, she has come to you."
"So that, any way, she must have suffered--and that does not move your
pity?" said Djalma, in a constrained, but still very mild voice.
"Before thinking of others, my lord, I think of your distresses; and they
touch me too nearly to leave me any pity for other woes," added Faringhea
hypocritically, so greatly had the influence of Rodin already modified
the character of the Phansegar.
"It is strange!" said Djalma, speaking to himself, as he viewed the half
caste with a glance still kind but piercing.
"What is strange, my lord?"
"Nothing. But tell me, since your advice has hitherto prospered so well,
what think you of the future?"
"Of the future, my lord?"
"Yes; in an hour I shall be with Mdlle. de Cardoville."
"That is a serious matter, my lord. The whole future will depend upon
this interview."
"That is what I was just thinking."
"Believe me, my lord, women never love any so well, as the bold man who
spares them the embarrassment of a refusal."
"Explain more fully."
"Well, my lord, they despise the timid and languishing lover, who asks
humbly for what he might take by force."
"But to-day I shall meet Mdlle. de Cardoville for the first time."
"You have met her a thousand times in your dreams, my lord; and depend
upon it, she has seen you also in her dreams, since she loves you. Every
one of your amorous thoughts has found an echo in her heart. All your
ardent adorations have been responded to by her. Love has not two
languages, and, without meeting, you have said all that you had to say to
each other. Now, it is for you to act as her master, and she will be
yours entirely."
"It is strange--very strange!" said Djalma, a second time, without
removing his eyes from Faringhea's face.
Mistaking the sense which the prince attached to these words, the half
caste resumed: "Believe me, my lord, however strange it may appear, this
is the wisest course. Remember the past. Was it by playing the part of a
timid lover that you have brought to your feet this proud young lady, my
lord? No, it was by pretending to despise her, in favor of another woman.
Therefore, let us have no weakness. The lion does not woo like the poor
turtle-dove. What cares the sultan of the desert for a few plaintive
howls from the lioness, who is more pleased than angry at his rude and
wild caresses? Soon submissive, fearful and happy, she follows in the
track of her master. Believe me, my lord--try everything--dare
everything--and to-day you will become the adored sultan of this young
lady, whose beauty all Paris admires."
After some minutes' silence, Djalma, shaking his head with an expression
of tender pity, said to the half-caste, in his mild, sonorous voice: "Why
betray me thus? Why advise me thus wickedly to use violence, terror, and
surprise, towards an angel of purity, whom I respect as my mother? Is it
not enough for you to have been so long devoted to my enemies, whose
hatred has followed me from Java?"
Had Djalma sprung upon the half-caste with bloodshot eye, menacing brow,
and lifted poniard, the latter would have been less surprised, and
perhaps less frightened, than when he heard the prince speak of his
treachery in this tone of mild reproach.
He drew back hastily, as if about to stand on his guard. But Djalma
resumed, with the same gentleness, "Fear nothing. Yesterday I should have
killed you! But to-day happy love renders me too just, too merciful for
that. I pity you, without any feeling of bitterness--for you must have
been very unhappy, or you could not have become so wicked."
"My lord!" said the half-caste, with growing amazement.
"Yes, you must have suffered much, and met with little mercy, poor
creature, to have become so merciless, in your hate, and proof against
the sight of a happiness like mine. When I listened to you just now, and
saw the sad perseverance of your hatred, I felt the deepest commiseration
for you."
"I do not know, my lord--but--" stammered the half-caste, and was unable
to find words to proceed.
"Come, now--what harm have I ever done you?"
"None, my lord," answered Faringhea.
"Then why do you hate me thus? why pursue me with so much animosity? Was
it not enough to give me the perfidious counsel to feign a shameful love
for the young girl that was brought hither, and who quitted the house
disgusted at the miserable part she was to play?"
"Your feigned love for that young girl, my lord," replied Faringhea,
gradually recovering his presence of mind, "conquered the coldness of--"
"Do not say that," resumed the prince, interrupting him with the same
mildness. "If I enjoy this happiness, which makes me compassionate
towards you, and raises me above myself, it is because Mdlle de
Cardoville now knows that I have never for a moment ceased to love her as
she ought to be loved, with adoration and reverence. It was your
intention to have parted us forever, and you had nearly succeeded."
"If you think this of me, my lord, you must look upon me as your most
mortal enemy."
"Fear nothing, I tell you. I have no right to blame you. In the madness
of my grief, I listened to you and followed your advice. I was not only
your dupe, but your accomplice. Only confess that, when you saw me at
your mercy, dejected, crushed, despairing, it was cruel in you to advise
the course that might have been most fatal to me."
"The ardor of my zeal may have deceived me, my lord."
"I am willing to believe it. And yet again to-day there were the same
evil counsels. You had no more pity for my happiness than for my sorrow.
The rapture of my heart inspires you with only one desire--that of
changing this rapture into despair."
"I, my lord!"
"Yes, you. It was your intention to ruin me--to dishonor me forever in
the eyes of Mdlle. de Cardoville. Now, tell me--why this furious hate?
what have I done to you?"
"You misjudge me, my lord--and--"
"Listen to me. I do not wish you to be any longer wicked and treacherous.
I wish to make you good. In our country, they charm serpents, and tame
the wildest tigers. You are a man, with a mind to reason, a heart to
love, and I will tame you too by gentleness. This day has bestowed on me
divine happiness; you shall have good cause to bless this day. What can I
do for you? what would you have--gold? You shall have it. Do you desire
more than gold? Do you desire a friend, to console you for the sorrows
that made you wicked, and to teach you to be good? Though a king's son, I
will be that friend--in spite of the evil--ay, because of the evil you
have done me. Yes; I will be your sincere friend, and it shall be my
delight to say to myself: 'The day on which I learned that my angel loved
me, my happiness was great indeed--for, in the morning, I had an
implacable enemy, and, ere night, his hatred was changed to friendship.'
Believe me, Faringhea, misery makes crime, but happiness produces virtue.
Be happy!"
At this moment the clock struck two. The prince started. It was time to
go on his visit to Adrienne. The handsome countenance of Djalma, doubly
embellished by the mild, ineffable expression with which it had been
animated whilst he was talking to the half-caste, now seemed illumined
with almost divine radiance.
Approaching Faringhea, he extended his hand with the utmost, grace and
courtesy, saying to him, "Your hand!"
The half-caste, whose brow was bathed with a cold sweat, whose
countenance was pale and agitated, seemed to hesitate for an instant;
then, overawed, conquered, fascinated, he offered his trembling hand to
the prince, who pressed it, and said to him, in their country's fashion,
"You have laid your hand honestly in a friend's; this hand shall never be
closed against you. Faringhea, farewell! I now feel myself more worthy to
kneel before my angel."
And Djalma went out, on his way to the appointment with Adrienne. In
spite of his ferocity, in spite of the pitiless hate he bore to the whole
human race, the dark sectary of Bowanee was staggered by the noble and
clement words of Djalma, and said to himself, with terror, "I have taken
his hand. He is now sacred for me."
Then, after a moment's silence, a thought occurred to him, and he
exclaimed, "Yes--but he will not be sacred for him who, according to the
answer of last night, waits for him at the door of the house."
So saying, the half-caste hastened into the next room, which looked upon
the street, and, raising a corner of the curtain, muttered anxiously to
himself, "The carriage moves off--the man approaches. Perdition! it is
gone and I see no more."