List Of Contents | Contents of The Wandering Jew v2, by Eugene Sue
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particular, named Faringhea, whose extraordinary energy and eminent
qualities make him every way redoubtable.  He is of the mixed race, half-
white and Hindoo, has long inhabited towns in which are European
factories and speaks English and French very well.  The other two chiefs
are a Negro and a Hindoo; the adept is a Malay.

"The smuggler, Mahal, considering that he could obtain a large reward by
giving up these three chiefs and their adept, came to me, knowing, as all
the world knows, my intimate relations with a person who has great
influence with our governor.  Two days ago, he offered me, on certain
conditions, to deliver up the Negro, the half-caste, the Hindoo, and the
Malay.  These conditions are--a considerable sum of money, and a free
passage on board a vessel sailing for Europe or America, in order to
escape the implacable vengeance of the Thugs.

"I joyfully seized the occasion to hand over three such murderers to
human justice, and I promised Mahal to arrange matters for him with the
governor, but also on certain conditions, innocent in themselves, and
which concerned Djalma.  Should my project succeed, I will explain myself
more at length; I shall soon know the result, for I expect Mahal every

"But before I close these despatches, which are to go tomorrow by the
'Ruyter'--in which vessel I have also engaged a passage for Mahal the
Smuggler, in the event of the success of my plans--I must include in
parentheses a subject of some importance.

"In my last letter, in which I announced to you the death of Djalma's
father, and his own imprisonment by the English, I asked for some
information as to the solvency of Baron Tripeaud, banker and manufacturer
at Paris, who has also an agency at Calcutta.  This information will now
be useless, if what I have just learned should, unfortunately, turn out
to be correct, and it will be for you to act according to circumstances.

"This house at Calcutta owes considerable sums both to me and our
colleague at Pondicherry, and it is said that M. Tripeaud has involved
himself to a dangerous extent in attempting to ruin, by opposition, a
very flourishing establishment, founded some time ago by M. Francois
Hardy, an eminent manufacturer.  I am assured that M. Tripeaud has
already sunk and lost a large capital in this enterprise: he has no doubt
done a great deal of harm to M. Francois Hardy; but he has also, they
say, seriously compromised his own fortune--and, were he to fail, the
effects of his disaster would be very fatal to us, seeing that he owes a
large sum of money to me and to us.

"In this state of things it would be very desirable if, by the employment
of the powerful means of every kind at our disposal, we could completely
discredit and break down the house of M. Francois Hardy, already shaken
by M. Tripeaud's violent opposition.  In that case, the latter would soon
regain all he has lost; the ruin of his rival would insure his
prosperity, and our demands would be securely covered.

"Doubtless, it is painful, it is sad, to be obliged to have recourse to
these extreme measures, only to get back our own; but, in these days, are
we not surely justified in sometimes using the arms that are incessantly
turned against us?  If we are reduced to such steps by the injustice and
wickedness of men, we may console ourselves with the reflection that we
only seek to preserve our worldly possessions, in order to devote them to
the greater glory of God; whilst, in the hands of our enemies, those very
goods are the dangerous instruments of perdition and scandal.

"After all it is merely a humble proposition that I submit to you.  Were
it in my power to take an active part in the matter, I should do nothing
of myself.  My will is not my own.  It belongs, with all I possess, to
those whom I have sworn absolute obedience."

Here a slight noise interrupted M. Joshua, and drew his attention from
his work.  He rose abruptly, and went straight to the window.  Three
gentle taps were given on the outside of one of the slats of the blind.

"Is it you, Mahal?" asked M. Joshua, in a low voice.

"It is I," was answered from without, also in a low tone.

"And the Malay?"

"He has succeeded."

"Really!"  cried M. Joshua, with an expression of great satisfaction;
"are you sure of it?"

"Quite sure: there is no devil more clever and intrepid."

"And Djalma?"

"The parts of the letter, which I quoted, convinced him that I came from
General Simon, and that he would find him at the ruins of Tchandi."

"Therefore, at this moment--"

"Djalma goes to the ruins, where he will encounter the black, the half-
blood, and the Indian.  It is there they have appointed to meet the
Malay, who tattooed the prince during his sleep."

"Have you been to examine the subterraneous passage?"

"I went there yesterday.  One of the stones of the pedestal of the statue
turns upon itself; the stairs are large; it will do."

"And the three chiefs have no suspicion?"

"None--I saw them in the morning--and this evening the Malay came to tell
me all, before he went to join them at the ruins of Tchandi--for he had
remained hidden amongst the bushes, not daring to go there in the

"Mahal--if you have told the truth, and if all succeed--your pardon and
ample reward are assured to you.  Your berth has been taken on board the
'Ruyter;' you will sail to-morrow; you will thus be safe from the malice
of the Stranglers, who would follow you hither to revenge the death of
their chiefs, Providence having chosen you to deliver those three great
criminals to justice.  Heaven will bless you!--Go and wait for me at the
door of the governor's house; I will introduce you.  The matter is so
important that I do not hesitate to disturb him thus late in the night.
Go quickly!--I will follow on my side."

The steps of Mahal were distinctly audible, as he withdrew precipitately,
and then silence reigned once more in the house.  Joshua returned to his
desk, and hastily added these words to the despatch, which he had before

"Whatever may now happen, it will be impossible for Djalma to leave
Batavia at present.  You may rest quite satisfied; he will not be at
Paris by the 13th of next February.  As I foresaw, I shall have to be up
all night.--I am just going to the governor's.  To-morrow I will add a
few lines to this long statement, which the steamship 'Ruyter' will
convey to Europe."

Having locked up his papers, Joshua rang the bell loudly, and, to the
great astonishment of his servants, not accustomed to see him leave home
in the middle of the night, went in all haste to the residence of the
governor of the island.

We now conduct the reader to the ruins of Tchandi.

[5] This report is extracted from Count Edward de Warren's excellent
work, "British India in 1831."--E. S.



To the storm in the middle of the day, the approach of which so well
served the Strangler's designs upon Djalma, has succeeded a calm and
serene night.  The disk of the moon rises slowly behind a mass of lofty
ruins, situated on a hill, in the midst of a thick wood, about three
leagues from Batavia.

Long ranges of stone, high walls of brick, fretted away by time,
porticoes covered with parasitical vegetation, stand out boldly from the
sheet of silver light which blends the horizon with the limpid blue of
the heavens.  Some rays of the moon, gliding through the opening on one
of these porticoes, fall upon two colossal statues at the foot of an
immense staircase, the loose stones of which are almost entirely
concealed by grass, moss, and brambles.

The fragments of one of these statues, broken in the middle, lie strewed
upon the ground; the other, which remains whole and standing, is
frightful to behold.  It represents a man of gigantic proportions, with a
head three feet high; the expression of the countenance is ferocious,
eyes of brilliant slaty black are set beneath gray brows, the large, deep
mouth gapes immoderately, and reptiles have made their nest between the
lips of stone; by the light of the moon, a hideous swarm is there dimly
visible.  A broad girdle, adorned with symbolic ornaments, encircles the
body of this statue, and fastens a long sword to its right side.  The
giant has four extended arms, and, in his great hands, he bears an
elephant's head, a twisted serpent, a human skull, and a bird resembling
a heron.  The moon, shedding her light on the profile of this statue,
serves to augment the weirdness of its aspect.

Here and there, enclosed in the half-crumbling walls of brick, are
fragments of stone bas-reliefs, very boldly cut; one of those in the best
preservation represents a man with the head of an elephant, and the wings
of a bat, devouring a child.  Nothing can be more gloomy than these
ruins, buried among thick trees of a dark green, covered with frightful
emblems, and seen by the moonlight, in the midst of the deep silence of

Against one of the walls of this ancient temple, dedicated to some
mysterious and bloody Javanese divinity, leans a kind of hut, rudely
constructed of fragments of brick and stone; the door, made of woven
rushes, is open, and a red light streams from it, which throws its rays
on the tall grass that covers the ground.  Three men are assembled in
this hovel, around a clay-lamp, with a wick of cocoanut fibre
steeped in palm-oil.

The first of these three, about forty years of age, is poorly clad in the
European fashion; his pale, almost white, complexion, announces that he
belongs to the mixed race, being offspring of a white father and Indian

The second is a robust African negro, with thick lips, vigorous
shoulders, and lank legs; his woolly hair is beginning to turn gray; he
is covered with rags, and stands close beside the Indian.  The third
personage is asleep, and stretched on a mat in the corner of the hovel.

These three men are the three Thuggee chiefs, who, obliged to fly from
the continent of India, have taken refuge in Java, under the guidance of
Mahal the Smuggler.

"The Malay does not return," said the half-blood, named Faringhea, the
most redoubtable chief of this homicidal sect: "in executing our orders,
he has perhaps been killed by Djalma."

"The storm of this morning brought every reptile out of the earth," said
the negro; "the Malay must have been bitten, and his body ere now a nest
of serpents."

"To serve the good work," proceeded Faringhea, with a gloomy air, "one
must know how to brave death."

"And to inflict it," added the negro.

A stifled cry, followed by some inarticulate words, here drew the
attention of these two men, who hastily turned their heads in the
direction of the sleeper.  This latter was thirty years old at most.  His
beardless face, of a bright copper color, his robe of coarse stuff, his
turban striped brown and yellow, showed that he belonged to the pure
Hindoo race.  His sleep appeared agitated by some painful vision; an
abundant sweat streamed over his countenance, contracted by terror; he
spoke in his dream, but his words were brief and broken, and accompanied
with convulsive starts.

"Again that dream!" said Faringhea to the negro. "Always the remembrance
of that man."

"What man?"

"Do you not remember, how, five years ago, that savage, Colonel Kennedy,
butcher of the Indians, came to the banks of the Ganges, to hunt the
tiger, with twenty horses, four elephants, and fifty servants?"

"Yes, yes," said the negro; "and we three, hunters of men, made a better
day's sport than he did.  Kennedy, his horses, his elephants, and his
numerous servants did not get their tiger--but we got ours," he added,
with grim irony.  "Yes; Kennedy, that tiger with a human face, fell into
our ambush, and the brothers of the good work offered up their fine prey
to our goddess Bowanee."

"If you remember, it was just at the moment when we gave the last tug to
the cord round Kennedy's neck, that we perceived on a sudden a traveller
close at hand.  He had seen us, and it was necessary to make away with
him.  Now, since that time," added Faringhea, "the remembrance of the
murder of that man pursues our brother in his dreams," and he pointed to
the sleeping Indian.

"And even when he is awake," said the negro, looking at Faringhea with a
significant air.

"Listen!" said the other, again pointing to the Indian, who, in the
agitation of his dream, recommenced talking in abrupt sentences; "listen!
he is repeating the answers of the traveller, when we told him he must
die, or serve with us on Thuggee.  His mind is still impressed--deeply
impressed--with those words."

And, in fact, the Indian repeated aloud in his sleep, a sort of
mysterious dialogue, of which he himself supplied both questions and

"'Traveller,' said he, in a voice broken by sudden pauses, 'why that
black mark on your forehead, stretching from one temple to the other?  It
is a mark of doom and your look is sad as death.  Have you been a victim?
Come with us; Kallee will avenge you.  You have suffered?'--'Yes, I have
greatly suffered.'--'For a long time?'--'Yes, for a very long time.'--
'You suffer even now?'--'Yes, even now.'--What do you reserve for those
who injure you?'--'My pity.'--'Will you not render blow for blow?'--'I
will return love for hate.'--'Who are you, then, that render good for
evil?'--'I am one who loves, and suffers, and forgives.'"

"Brother, do you hear?" said the negro to Faringhea; "he has not
forgotten the words of the traveller before his death."

"The vision follows him.  Listen! he will speak again.  How pale he is!"
Still under the influence of his dream, the Indian continued:

"'Traveller, we are three; we are brave; we have your life in our hands--
you have seen us sacrifice to the good work.  Be one of us, or die--die--
die!  Oh, that look!  Not thus--do not look at me thus!'"  As he uttered
these last words, the Indian made a sudden movement, as if to keep off
some approaching object, and awoke with a start.  Then, passing his hand
over his moist forehead, he looked round him with a bewildered eye.

"What! again this dream, brother?" said Faringhea.  "For a bold hunter of
men, you have a weak head.  Luckily, you have a strong heart and arm."

The other remained a moment silent, his face buried in his hands; then he
replied: "It is long since I last dreamed of that traveller."

"Is he not dead?" said Faringhea, shrugging his shoulders.  "Did you not
yourself throw the cord around his neck?"

"Yes," replied the Indian shuddering.

"Did we not dig his grave by the side of Colonel Kennedy's?  Did we not
bury him with the English butcher, under the sand and the rushes?" said
the negro.

"Yes, we dug his grave," said the Indian, trembling; "and yet, only a
year ago, I was seated one evening at the gate of Bombay, waiting for one
of our brothers--the sun was setting behind the pagoda, to the right of
the little hill--the scene is all before me now--I was seated under a
figtree--when I heard a slow, firm, even step, and, as I turned round my
head--I saw him--coming out of the town."

"A vision," said the negro; "always the same vision!"

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