THE DEPARTURE FOR PARIS.
The most profound silence reigns throughout Cardoville House.The tempest has lulled by degrees, and nothing is heard from afar but the hoarse murmur of the waves, as they wash heavily the shore.
Dagobert and the orphans have been lodged in warm and comfortable apartments on the first-floor of the chateau.Djalma, too severely hurt to be carried upstairs, has remained in a room below.At the moment of the shipwreck, a weeping mother had placed her child in his arms.He had failed in the attempt to snatch this unfortunate infant from certain death, but his generous devotion had hampered his movements, and when thrown upon the rocks, he was almost dashed to pieces.Faringhea, who has been able to convince him of his affection, remains to watch over him.
Gabriel, after administering consolation to Djalma, has rescinded to the chamber allotted to him; faithful to the promise he made to Rodin, to be ready to set out in two hours, he has not gone to bed; but, having dried his clothes, he has fallen asleep in a large, high-backed arm-chair, placed in front of a bright coal-fire.His apartment is situated near those occupied by Dagobert and the two sisters.
Spoil-sport, probably quite at his ease in so respectable a dwelling, has quitted the door of Rose and Blanche's chamber, to lie down and warm himself at the hearth, by the side of which the missionary is sleeping.
There, with his nose resting on his outstretched paws, he enjoys a feeling of perfect comfort and repose, after so many perils by land and sea.We will not venture to affirm, that he thinks habitually of poor old Jovial; unless we recognize as a token of remembrance on his part, his irresistible propensity to bite all the white horses he has met with, ever since the death of his venerable companion, though before, he was the most inoffensive of dogs with regard to horses of every color.
Presently one of the doors of the chamber opened, and the two sisters entered timidly.Awake for some minutes, they had risen and dressed themselves, feeling still some uneasiness with respect to Dagobert;
though the bailiff's wife, after showing them to their room, had returned again to tell them that the village doctor found nothing serious in the hurt of the old soldier, still they hoped to meet some one belonging to the chateau, of whom they could make further inquiries about him.
The high back of the old-fashioned arm-chair, in which Gabriel was sleeping, completely screened him from view; but the orphans, seeing their canine friend lying quietly at his feet, thought it was Dagobert reposing there, and hastened towards him on tip-toe.To their great astonishment, they saw Gabriel fast asleep, and stood still in confusion, not daring to advance or recede, for fear of waking him.
The long, light hair of the missionary was no longer wet, and now curled naturally round his neck and shoulders; the paleness of his complexion was the more striking, from the contrast afforded by the deep purple of the damask covering of the arm-chair.His beautiful countenance expressed a profound melancholy, either caused by the influence of some painful dream, or else that he was in the habit of keeping down, when awake, some sad regrets, which revealed themselves without his knowledge when he was sleeping.Notwithstanding this appearance of bitter grief, his features preserved their character of angelic sweetness, and seemed endowed with an inexpressible charm, for nothing is more touching than suffering goodness.The two young girls cast down their eyes, blushed simultaneously, and exchanged anxious glances, as if to point out to each other the slumbering missionary.
"He sleeps, sister," said Rose in a low voice.
"So much the better," replied Blanche, also in a whisper, ****** a sign of caution; "we shall now be able to observe him well."
"Yes, for we durst not do so, in coming from the sea hither."
"Look! what a sweet countenance!"
"He is just the same as we saw him in our dreams."
"When he promised he would protect us."
"And he has not failed us."
"But here, at least, he is visible."
"Not as it was in the prison at Leipsic, during that dark night."
"And so--he has again rescued us."
"Without him, we should have perished this morning."
"And yet, sister, it seems to me, that in our dreams his countenance shone with light."
"Yes, you know it dazzled us to look at him."
"And then he had not so sad a mien."
"That was because he came then from heaven; now he is upon earth."
"But, sister, had he then that bright red scar round his forehead?"
"Oh, no! we should have certainly perceived it."
"And these other marks on his hands?"
"If he has been wounded, how can he be an archangel?"
"Why not, sister? If he received those wounds in preventing evil, or in helping the unfortunate, who, like us, were about to perish?"
"You are right.If he did not run any danger for those he protects, it would be less noble."
"What a pity that he does not open his eye!"
"Their expression is so good, so tender!"
"Why did he not speak of our mother, by the way?"
"We were not alone with him; he did not like to do so."
"But now we are alone."
"If we were to pray to him to speak to us?"
The orphans looked doubtingly at each other, with charming simplicity; a bright glow suffused their cheeks, and their young bosoms heaved gently beneath their black dresses.
"You are right.Let us kneel down to him."
"Oh, sister! our hearts beat so!" said Blanche, believing rightly, that Rose felt exactly as she did."And yet it seems to do us good.It is as if some happiness were going to befall us."
The sisters, having approached the arm-chair on tip-toe, knelt down with clasped hands, one to the right the other to the left of the young priest.It was a charming picture.Turning their lovely faces towards him, they said in a low whisper, with a soft, sweet voice, well suited to their youthful appearance: "Gabriel! speak to us of our mother!"
