tigers, will make them adore, my lord."

"You lie!"

"I tell you, my lord, on seeing your hand, as delicate as theirs, but
which has been so often bathed in hostile blood, they will wish to caress
it; and they will kiss it again, when they think that, in our forests,
with loaded rifle, and a poniard between your teeth, you smiled at the
roaring of a lion or panther for whom you lay in wait."

"But I am a savage--a barbarian."

"And for that very reason you will have them at your feet.  They will
feel themselves both terrified and charmed by all the violence and fury,
the rage of jealousy, the passion and the love, to which a man of your
blood, your youth, your ardor must be subject.  To-day mild and tender,
to-morrow fierce and suspicious, another time ardent and passionate, such
you will be--and such you ought to be, if you wish to win them.  Yes; let
a kiss of rage be heard between two kisses: let a dagger glitter in the
midst of caresses, and they will fall before you, palpitating with
pleasure, love, and fear--and you will be to them, not a man, but a god."

"Dost think so?" cried Djalma, carried away in spite of himself by the
Thug's wild eloquence.

"You know, you feel, that I speak the truth," cried the latter, extending
his arm towards the young Indian.

"Why, yes!" exclaimed Djalma, his eyes sparkling, his nostrils swelling,
as he moved about the apartment with savage bounds.  "I know not if I
possess my reason, or if I am intoxicated, but it seems to me that you
speak truth.  Yes, I feel that they will love me with madness and fury,
because my love will be mad and furious they will tremble with pleasure
and fear, because the very thought of it makes me tremble with delight
and terror.  Slave, it is true; there is something exciting and fearful
in such a love!"  As he spoke forth these words, Djalma was superb in his
impetuous sensuality.  It is a rare thing to see a young man arrive in
his native purity, at the age in which are developed, in all their
powerful energy, those admirable instincts of love, which God has
implanted in the heart of his creatures, and which, repressed, disguised,
or perverted, may unseat the reason, or generate mad excesses and
frightful crimes--but which, directed towards a great and noble passion,
may and must, by their very violence, elevate man, through devotion and
tenderness, to the limits of the ideal.

"Oh! this woman--this woman, before whom I am to tremble--and who, in
turn, must tremble before me--where is she?" cried Djalma, with redoubled
excitement.  "Shall I ever find her?"

"One is a good deal, my lord," replied Faringhea, with his sardonic
coolness; "he who looks for one woman, will rarely succeed in this
country; he who seeks women, is only at a loss to choose."

As the half-caste made this impertinent answer to Djalma, a very elegant
blue-and-white carriage stopped before the garden-gate of the house,
which opened upon a deserted street.  It was drawn by a pair of beautiful
blood-horses, of a cream color, with black manes and tails.  The
scutcheons on the harness were of silver, as were also the buttons of the
servants' livery, which was blue with white collars.  On the blue
hammercloth, also laced with white, as well as on the panels of the
doors, were lozenge-shaped coats of arms, without crest or coronet, as
usually borne by unmarried daughters of noble families.  Two women were
in this carriage--Mdlle. de Cardoville and Florine.




CHAPTER XLI.

RISING.

To explain the arrival of Mdlle. de Cardoville at the garden-door of the
house occupied by Djalma, we must cast a retrospective glance at previous
events.  On leaving Doctor Baleinier's, Mdlle. de Cardoville had gone to
take up her residence in the Rue d'Anjou.  During the last few months of
her stay with her aunt, Adrienne had secretly caused this handsome
dwelling to be repaired and furnished, and its luxury and elegance were
now increased by all the wonders of the lodge of Saint-Dizier House.  The
world found it very strange, that a lady of the age and condition of
Mdlle. de Cardoville should take the resolution of living completely
alone and free, and, in fact, of keeping house exactly like a bachelor, a
young widow, or an emancipated minor.  The world pretended not to know
that Mdlle. de Cardoville possessed what is often wanting in men, whether
of age or twice of age--a firm character, a lofty mind, a generous heart,
strong and vigorous good sense.

Judging that she would require faithful assistance in the internal
management of her house, Adrienne had written to the bailiff of
Cardoville, and his wife, old family servants, to come immediately to
Paris: M. Dupont thus filled the office of steward, and Mme. Dupont that
of housekeeper.  An old friend of Adrienne's father, the Count de
Montbron, an accomplished old man, once very much in fashion, and still a
connoisseur in all sorts of elegances, had advised Adrienne to act like a
princess, and take an equerry; recommended for this office a man of good
rearing and ripe age, who, himself an amateur in horses, had been ruined
in England, at Newmarket, the Derby, and Tattersall's, and reduced, as
sometimes happened to gentlemen in that country, to drive the stage-
coaches, thus finding an honest method of earning his bread, and at the
same time gratifying his taste for horses.  Such was M. de Bonneville, M.
de Montbron's choice.  Both from age and habits, this equerry could
accompany Mdlle. de Cardoville on horseback, and better than any one
else, superintend the stable.  He accepted, therefore, the employment
with gratitude, and, thanks to his skill and attention, the equipages of
Mdlle. de Cardoville were not eclipsed in style by anything of the kind
in Paris.  Mdlle. de Cardoville had taken back her women, Hebe,
Georgette, and Florine.  The latter was at first to have re-entered the
service of the Princess de Saint-Dizier, to continue her part of spy for
the superior of St. Mary's Convent; but, in consequence of the new
direction given by Rodin to the Rennepont affair, it was decided that
Florine, if possible, should return to the service of Mdlle. de
Cardoville.  This confidential place, enabling this unfortunate creature
to render important and mysterious services to the people who held her
fate in their hands, forced her to infamous treachery.  Unfortunately,
all things favored this machination.  We know that Florine, in her
interview with Mother Bunch, a few days after Mdlle. de Cardoville was
imprisoned at Dr. Baleinier's, had yielded to a twinge of remorse, and
given to the sempstress advice likely to be of use to Adrienne's
interests--sending word to Agricola not to deliver to Madame de Saint-
Dizier the papers found in the hiding-place of the pavilion, but only to
entrust them to Mdlle. de Cardoville herself.  The latter, afterwards
informed of these details by Mother Bunch, felt a double degree of
confidence and interest in Florine, took her back into her service with
gratitude, and almost immediately charged her with a confidential
mission--that of superintending the arrangements of the house hired for
Djalma's habitation.  As for Mother Bunch (yielding to the solicitations
of Mdlle. de Cardoville, and finding she was no longer of use to
Dagobert's wife, of whom we shall speak hereafter), she had consented to
take up her abode in the hotel on the Rue d'Anjou, along with Adrienne,
who with that rare sagacity of the heart peculiar to her, entrusted the
young sempstress, who served her also as a secretary, with the department
of alms-giving.

Mdlle. de Cardoville had at first thought of entertaining her merely as a
friend, wishing to pay homage in her person to probity with labor,
resignation in sorrow, and intelligence in poverty; but knowing the
workgirl's natural dignity, she feared, with reason that, notwithstanding
the delicate circumspection with which the hospitality would be offered,
Mother Bunch might perceive in it alms in disguise.   Adrienne preferred,
therefore, whilst she treated her as a friend, to give her a confidential
employment.  In this manner the great delicacy of the needlewoman would
be spared, since she could earn her livelihood by performing duties which
would at the same time satisfy her praiseworthy instincts of charity.  In
fact, she could fulfil, better than any one, the sacred mission confided
to her by Adrienne.  Her cruel experience in misfortune, the goodness of
her angelic soul, the elevation of her mind, her rare activity, her
penetration with regard to the painful secrets of poverty, her perfect
knowledge of the industrial classes, were sufficient security for the
tact and intelligence with which the excellent creature would second the
generous intentions of Mdlle. de Cardoville.

Let us now speak of the divers events which, on that day, preceded the
coming of Mdlle. de Cardoville to the garden-gate of the house in the Rue
Blanche.  About ten o'clock in the morning, the blinds of Adrienne's
bedchamber, closely shut, admitted no ray of daylight to this apartment,
which was only lighted by a spherical lamp of oriental alabaster,
suspended from the ceiling by three long silver chains.  This apartment,
terminating in a dome, was in the form of a tent with eight sides.  From
the ceiling to the floor, it was hung with white silk, covered with long
draperies of muslin, fastened in large puffs to the wall, by bands caught
in at regular distances by plates of ivory.  Two doors, also of ivory,
admirably encrusted with mother-of-pearl, led, one to the bath-room, the
other to the toilet-chamber, a sort of little temple dedicated to the
worship of beauty, and furnished as it had been at the pavilion of Saint-
Dizier House.  Two other compartments of the wall were occupied by
windows, completely veiled with drapery.  Opposite the bed, enclosing
splendid fire-dogs of chased silver, was a chimney-piece of white marble,
like crystallized snow, on which were sculptured two magnificent
caryatides, and a frieze representing birds and flowers.  Above this
frieze, carved in openwork with extreme delicacy, was a marble basket,
filled with red camellias.  Their leaves of shining green their flowers
of a delicate rosy hue, were the only colors that disturbed the
harmonious whiteness of this virgin retreat.  Finally, half surrounded by
waves of white muslin, which poured down from the dome like a mass of
light clouds, the bed was visible--very low, and resting on feet of
carved ivory, which stood upon the ermine carpet that covered the floor.
With the exception of a plinth, also in ivory, admirably inlaid with
mother-of-pearl, the bed was entirely covered with white satin, wadded
and quilted like an immense scent-bag.  The cambric sheets, trimmed with
lace, being a little disturbed on one side, discovered the corner of a
white taffety mattress, and a light counterpane of watered stuff--for an
equal temperature always reigned in this apartment, warm as a fine spring
day.

From a singular scruple, arising from the same sentiment which had caused
Adrienne to have inscribed on a masterpiece of goldsmith's work the name
of the maker instead of that of the seller, she had wished all these
articles, so costly and sumptuous, to be manufactured by workmen chosen
amongst the most intelligent, honest, and industrious of their class,
whom she had supplied with the necessary materials.  In this manner she
had been able to add to the price of the work the profit usually gained
by the middle man, who speculates in such labor; this notable
augmentation of wages had spread happiness and comfort through a hundred
necessitous families, who, blessing the munificence of Adrienne, gave
her, as she said, the right to enjoy her luxury as a good action.
Nothing could be fresher or more charming than the interior of this
bedchamber.  Mdlle. de Cardoville had just awoke; she reposed in the
middle of this flood of muslin, lace, cambric, and white silk, in a
position full of sweet grace.  Never during the night did she cover that
beautiful golden hair (a certain recipe, said the Greeks, for preserving
it for a long while in magnificence).  Every evening, her women arranged
her long silky curls in flat tresses, forming two broad bands, which,
descending sufficiently low almost entirely to conceal the small ear, the
rosy lobe of which was alone visible, were joined to the large plait
behind the head.

This head-dress, borrowed from Greek antiquity, set off to admiration the
pure, fine features of Mdlle. de Cardoville, and made her look so much
younger, that, instead of eighteen, one would hardly have given her
fifteen years of age.  Gathered thus closely about the temples, the hair
lost its transparent and brilliant hues, and would have appeared almost
brown, but for the golden tints which played here and there, amid the
undulations of the tresses.  Lulled in that morning torpor, the warm
languor of which is so favorable to soft reveries, Adrienne leaned with
her elbow on the pillow, and her head a little on one side, which
displayed to advantage the ideal contour of her bared neck and shoulders;
her smiling lips, moist and rosy, were, like her cheeks, cold as if they
had just been bathed in ice-water; her snow-white lids half veiled the
large, dark, soft eyes, which now gazed languidly upon vacancy, and now
fixed themselves with pleasure upon the rosy flowers and green leaves in
the basket of camellias.  Who can paint the matchless serenity of
Adrienne's awaking--when the fair and chaste soul roused itself in the
fair and chaste body?  It was the awakening of a heart as pure as the
fresh and balmy breath of youth, that made her bosom rise and fall in its
white, immaculate purity.  What creed, what dogma, what formula, what
religious symbol, oh! paternal and divine Creator! can ever give a more
complete idea of Thy harmonious and ineffable power, than the image of a
young maiden awaking in the bloom of her beauty, and in all the grace of
that modesty with which Thou hast endowed her, seeking, in her dreamy
innocence, for the secret of that celestial instinct of love, which Thou
hast placed in the bosom of all Thy creatures--oh! Thou whose love is
eternal, and goodness infinite!

The confused thoughts which, since her sleep, had appeared gently to
agitate Adrienne, absorbed her more and more; her head resting on her
bosom, her beautiful arm upon the couch, her features without becoming
precisely sad, assumed an expression of touching melancholy.  Her dearest
desire was accomplished; she was about to live independent and alone.
But this affectionate, delicate, expansive, and marvellously complete
nature, felt that God had not given her such rare treasures, to bury them
in a cold and selfish solitude.  She felt how much that was great and
beautiful might be inspired by love, both in herself, and in him that
should be worthy of her.  Confiding in her courage, and the nobleness of
her character, proud of the example that she wished to give to other
women, knowing that all eyes would be fixed enviously upon her, she felt,
as it were, only too sure of herself; far from fearing that she should

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