CHAPTER IV.
LITTLE RODIN.
While Anacharsis Clootz, the rich Dutch banker, later to be known as the"Orator of the Human Race," was thus presiding at the initiation ofVictoria Lebrenn into the sect of the Voyants, Samuel, left alone withhis wife by the departure of Franz of Gerolstein and his companion, hadbeen just preparing to continue his dictation to Bathsheba, when heheard the street-outlook rapping discreetly at the gate. Samuel,hastening at the call, found the watcher holding by the hand a young boywho cried bitterly.
"The poor little fellow has lost his way," said the lookout, passing theboy in to Samuel. "I found him sitting down there by the buttress of thegate, sobbing. You would better keep him with you for the night, andto-morrow, in the daylight, he can be taken back to his folks--if youcan find out from him where he lives."
Touched by the child's grief, Samuel took him into the lower room andboth he and Bathsheba bent all their energies toward quieting him. Theboy seemed to be about nine or ten years old. He was poorly clad, and ofa wan and ailing appearance. His face presented none of the smilingprettiness usual with children of his age. His peaked features, hissickly and cadaverous pallor, his thin, pale lips, his sly and shifty,yet keen and observing glance--revealing a precocious cleverness--infine, something low, mean and crafty in the look of the boy would, nodoubt, have inspired aversion rather than sympathy in the breasts of thecouple were it not for the cruel desertion of which he seemed thevictim. Hardly had he entered the room when he dropped to his knees,crossed himself, and clasping his hands exclaimed through his tears:
"Blessed be You, Lord God, for having pitied Your little servant and ledhim to this good sir and this good lady. Save them a place in Yourparadise!"
Dragging himself on his knees toward the Jew and his wife, the urchinkissed their hands effusively and with far too great a flood ofgratitude for sincerity. Bathsheba took him on her knees, and said tohim as she wiped his tear-stained face, "Don't cry, poor little one.We'll take care of you to-night, and to-morrow we'll take you home. Butwhere do you live, and what is your name?"
"My name is Claude Rodin," answered the child; and he added, with amonstrous sigh, "The good God has been merciful to my parents, and tookthem to His holy paradise."
"Poor dear creature," answered Samuel, "you are, then, an orphan?"
"Alas, yes, good sir! My dear dead father used to be holy waterdispenser at the Church of St. Medard. My dear dead mother used to rentout chairs in the same parish. They are now both with the angels; theyare walking with the blessed saints."
"And where do you live, my poor child?"
"With Monsieur the Abbot Morlet, my good lady; a holy man of God, and mykind god-father."
"But how did it happen, my child, that you went astray at this late hourof the night?" asked Samuel. "You must have left home all alone?"
"Just after benediction," answered little Rodin, crossing himselfdevoutly, "Monsieur the Abbot, my good god-father, took me to walk withhim in the Place Royale. There were a lot of people gathered around somemountebanks. I sinned!" cried the boy, beating his chest in contrition,"the Lord God punished me. It is my fault--my fault--my very greatfault! Will God ever forgive me my sin?"
"But what great sin did you commit?" questioned Bathsheba.
"Mountebanks are heretics, fallen, and destined for hell," answeredlittle Rodin, pressing his lips together with a wicked air, and strikinghis breast again. "I sinned, hideously sinned, in watching the games ofthose reprobates. The Lord God punished me by separating me from my goodgod-father. The swaying of the crowd carried him away from me. No use tolook for him! No use to call him! It was impossible to find him. It wasmy very great fault!"
"And how did you get here from the Place Royale? The two points are farapart."
"Having said my prayers, both mental and oral, several times, in orderto call to my aid the divine pity," replied Rodin emphatically and withan air of beatitude, "I started out to find my way home, away down atthe end of the Roule suburb, near the Folie-Beaujon."
"Poor child," interrupted Bathsheba. "More than a league to travel! HowI pity the dear child. Go on with your story," she said to him.
"It is a long way, true enough," added Samuel, "but all he had to do wasto follow the boulevards. How did you come to lose the road?"
"A worthy gentleman, of whom I inquired the way, told me I would reachhome quicker by taking another street. I walked all evening, but all Idid was to get lost. The wrath of the Lord pursued me!" After sighingand beating his breast again, little Rodin continued: "Then, at last,passing your house, I felt so tired, so tired, that I fell on yourdoor-step from weariness, and prayed the good God to come to my help. Hedeigned to hear the prayer of His little servant, and so you came topity me, my good sir and lady. May God receive you in heaven!"
"You shall spend the night here, dear child, and to-morrow we will takeyou back to your god-father--so don't weep any more."
"Alas, good sir, the holy man will be so anxious! He will think melost!"
"It is impossible now to calm his anxiety. But are you hungry orthirsty? Will you have something to eat or drink?"
"No, good mistress; only I'm terribly sleepy, and wish I could liedown."
"I can well believe it," said Bathsheba, addressing her spouse; "aftersuch fatigue and worry, the little fellow must be worn out. It is onlynatural that he should be dying to go to sleep."
"But where shall we put him? We are in a tight fix. We have but onebed."
"Oh, good sir," eagerly broke in little Rodin, "don't put yourself outfor me. I shall sleep very well right there, if you will let me;" andthe boy indicated a re-enforced and brass-bound chest which his keen eyehad spied, and which formed a seat at the further end of the room. "Thatwill do me, very well."
"I never thought of the chest," remarked Samuel. "The boy is right. Athis age one sleeps anywhere. With plenty of warm covering he will passthe night there almost as comfortably as in his own bed. It all comesout for the best."
"I'll go fetch a cushion and a cloak, and fix him up as well aspossible," added Bathsheba, leaving the room.
The boy sat down and huddled himself together as if unable to resist thelassitude and sleep which weighed upon him. His head sank upon hischest, and his eyes closed. But immediately peeping under his lids hesaw on the table close beside him pens, ink, and several sheets offreshly written paper. It was Samuel's unfinished letter to Levi.
"I surely was inspired in asking to sleep here," murmured the boy,aside; "let me recall without forgetting anything the orders of my goodgod-father," he thought, as the Jew's wife returned with the makeshiftbedding she had gone in search of.
"Here, dear boy," she said, "I'll put you to bed and tuck you in wellfrom the cold."
Simulating a heavy sleep, the urchin did not stir.
"Poor creature--asleep already," said Bathsheba. "I'll have to carryhim." Lifting little Rodin in her arms she placed him on the chest,while Samuel arranged the cushion under his head and covered him upwith the cloak. These cares completed, Samuel and his wife turned againto the completion of the note to their cousin Levi; but his thoughtshaving been disarranged by the frequent interruptions, Samuel asked hiswife to re-read the letter from the beginning, after which he finishedit, while the young boy was seemingly sound asleep.
Bathsheba had just taken down the last of her husband's dictation whensuddenly another rap resounded at the gate.
"Samuel," cried the Jewess, pale and trembling, "that time the watchergave the alarm signal."
Samuel went to the gate, opened the wicket and asked the lookout:
"What is up?"
"For nearly quarter of an hour I have remarked two men, closely wrappedin their cloaks, who came in from St. Gervais Street, and halted at thecorner of the garden wall. They examined the house minutely. ImmediatelyI fell on one of the stone benches in the dark passageway and pretendedto be asleep. Two or three times they passed by without noticing me;they kept walking up and down, now examining the exter
ior of thebuilding, now conversing in low tones. Finally they saw me, and saidaloud--'There is a wine-bibber sleeping himself sober.' They walked oncemore to some distance; then returning towards me, I heard them utterthese words: 'And now, let us report to the sergeant.' They quickenedtheir steps and vanished around the corner of St. Francois Street. Nowyou are warned, Master Samuel."
"When you first observed them, was anyone within?" asked Samuel. "Areyou sure of that, lookout?"
"No one--except the child I brought to you, and whom you took inyourself."
"These two men must be attached to the police, since they intended to gostraight to the sergeant; could their suspicions as to what went on herehave been awakened by their observations to-night?"
"There was no one in the street while our brothers were arriving. I amsure of it; I kept good and sure guard."
"The suspicions of these fellows must, then, date from further back thanthis evening. But, in that case, at the first suspicion of one of hisagents, the Lieutenant of Police would have had the house turnedtopsy-turvy by his searchers. There is something inexplicable in theconduct of these men. However, if they guessed that you were not reallyasleep, but could hear, I believe they would have enjoyed giving you afalse scare. But then, to what purpose? No matter, forewarned isforearmed. Maintain your watch, and the instant you get sight or soundof the police sergeant, notify me with the usual signal."
Samuel thereupon ran to the green-house and gave the alarm, which,repeated by the Voyant on guard at the door of the temple, was thesignal for the dispersal of the meeting. Then the Jew returned to theroom where his wife awaited him.
"Well, my friend," asked Bathsheba hurriedly in an undertone, and unableto control her anxiety, "what is going on?"
"The danger is not imminent. Nevertheless, I have just warned ourbrothers to leave the temple by the two secret issues. The flag-stonewhich masks the descent under the hot-house will be replaced, for thepolice spies were watching the house. They will cause it to be searched,they must be able to discover nothing, and our friends must have time toescape. Reassure yourself, my dear wife; we run not the slightestdanger."
"Lower, my friend, lower, lest you wake the child," cautioned Bathsheba,indicating little Rodin, who seemed to be still sound asleep, althoughhis eyelids were imperceptibly winking. "Oh, may the alarms of thisnight be vain, and may all danger escape you!"
"Dear wife, let us trust to Providence. It inspired me to write thatletter to our cousin Levi, and now, whatever may come, I am prepared.The sacred mission bequeathed to us by my grandfather will be fulfilled,and I shall have saved the heritage of Monsieur Marius Rennepont."
"First--a movable flag conceals the descent under the green-house.Second--this renegade of a Jew is going to safeguard the fortune of acertain Marius Rennepont," recited little Rodin to himself, not havinglost a word of the conversation between Samuel and his wife. "Oh, now, Imustn't forget that name, nor the two secret exits of the _temple_, northe movable flag-stone of the green-house--nor a lot of other things!"
The alarm given by the lookout proved premature, for neither thesergeant of police nor his men appeared on the scene that night toransack the house in St. Francois Street.