Part 18 (2/2)
”Be cursed, hound! Anathema, swine!”
Looking from whence the voice came, we could see Mosaide on the threshold of his house, standing erect, his arms raised, his hands in the form of fangs, with nails crooked, appearing inflamed by the fiery light of the sun. His head was covered with his dirty tiara, and he was enveloped in his gorgeous gown, showing when flying open his meagre bow-legs in ragged breeches. He looked like some begging magician, immortal, and very old. His eyes glared, and he said:
”Be cursed in the name of all globes, be cursed in the name of all wheels, be cursed in the name of the mysterious beasts Ezekiel saw.”
Out he stretched his long arms, ending in claws, and continued:
”In the name of the globes, in the name of the wheels, in the name of the mysterious beasts, descend among those who are no more.”
We advanced a few paces between the half-grown trees to see the object over which Mosaide extended his arms and his anger, and discovered, to our great surprise, M. Jerome Coignard, hanging by a lapel of his gown on an evergreen thorn bush. The night's disorder was visible all over his body; his collar and his shoes torn, his stockings smeared with mud, his s.h.i.+rt open, all reminded me of our common misadventures, and, worse than all, the swelling of his nose spoilt entirely the n.o.ble and smiling expression which never left his features.
I ran up to him and unhooked him so luckily off the thorns that only a small piece of his breeches stuck to them. Mosaide, having had his say, re-entered the cottage. As he wore only slippers I could observe that his legs fitted right into the middle of his feet, so that the heel stuck out behind pretty nearly as much as the forefoot in front, a singular deformation, rendering his walking uncouth, which otherwise would have been n.o.ble and full of dignity.
”Jacques Tournebroche! my dear boy,” said my tutor, with a sigh, ”that Jew must be Isaac Laquedem in person, so to blaspheme in all languages.
He vowed me to a death near and violent with an enormous abundance of metaphors, and he called me a pig in fourteen distinct languages, if I counted them correctly. I could believe him to be the Antichrist, and he does not want some of the signs by which that enemy of G.o.d is to be recognised. Under any circ.u.mstances he is a dirty Jew, and never has the wheel as a brand of infamy been exposed on the vestments of a worse or more rabid miscreant. As for himself, he not only deserves the wheel formerly attached to the garments of Jews, but also that other wheel on which scoundrels have their bones broken.”
And my good master, mightily angry in his turn, shook his fist in the direction where Mosaide had disappeared, and accused him of crucifying children and devouring the flesh of new-born babes.
M. d'Asterac went up to him and touched his breast with the ruby he used to wear on his finger.
”It is useful,” said the great cabalist, ”to know the peculiar qualities of precious stones. Rubies soothe resentments, and you'll soon see the Abbe Coignard regain his natural suavity.”
My dear tutor smiled already, less by virtue of the stone than by the influence of a philosophy which raised this admirable man above all human pa.s.sions, for I feel it my duty to say, at the very moment my narrative becomes clouded and sad, that M. Jerome Coignard has given me examples of wisdom under circ.u.mstances in which it is but rarely met with.
We inquired the cause of the quarrel, but easily understood by the vagueness of his embarra.s.sed replies that he did not intend to satisfy our curiosity. I surmised at once that Jahel was mixed up with it in some way, when I heard with the gnas.h.i.+ng of Mosaide's voice the grating of locks and bolts, and later on the noise, in the lodge, of a violent dispute between uncle and niece. When we tried again to bring my tutor to some explanation, he said:
”Hate for Christians is deeply rooted in every Jew's heart, and yonder Mosaide is an execrable example of it. I fancy I discovered in his horrible yelpings some parts of the imprecations the Amsterdam synagogue vomited in the last century on a little Dutch Jew called Baruch or Benedict, but better known under the name of Spinoza, for having framed a philosophy which has been perfectly refuted, as soon as it was brought to public knowledge, by excellent theologians. But this old Mordecai has added to it, so it seems to me, many and much more horrible imprecations, and I confess to having somewhat resented them. For a moment I thought of escaping by flight this torrent of abuse, when to my dismay I found myself entangled in yonder thorn, and sticking to it by different parts of my clothes and skin so fast that I really expected to have to leave the one or the other behind me. I should still be there, in smarting agony, if Tournebroche, my dear pupil, had not freed me.”
”The thorns count for nothing,” said M. d'Asterac, ”but I'm afraid, Monsieur l'Abbe, that you have trodden on a mandrake.”
”Mandrakes,” replied the abbe, ”are certainly the least of my cares.”
”You're wrong,” said M. d'Asterac. ”It suffices to tread on a mandrake to become involved in a love crime, and perish by it miserably.”
”Ah! sir,” my dear tutor replied, ”here are all sorts of dangers, and I become aware that it was necessary to be closely shut in between the eloquent walls of the 'Asteracian,' which is the queen of libraries. For having left it for a moment only, I get the beasts of Ezekiel thrown at my head, not to speak of anything else.”
”Would you kindly give me news of Zosimus the Panopolitan?” inquired M.
d'Asterac.
”He goes on,” replied my master; ”goes on nicely, though slowly at the moment.”
”Do not forget, abbe,” said the cabalist, ”that possession of the greatest secrets is attached to the knowledge of those ancient texts.”
”I think of it, sir, with solicitude,” said the abbe.
M. d'Asterac, after this a.s.surance, left us standing at the statue of the faun, who continued to play the flute without taking any notice of his head, fallen into the gra.s.s. He disappeared rapidly between the trees, looking for Salamanders.
My tutor linked his arm in mine with the air of one who can at last speak freely.
<script>