The Wandering Jew. Эжен Сю

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      "Zounds! they might be as long as that," said the veteran, indicating the whole length of his term from the elbow, "they might be as long as that, and it would have nothing to do with it. Fair, and with blue eyes. Pray what may this mean, young ladies?" and Dagobert rose from his seat with a severe and painfully unquiet look.

      "There now, Dagobert, you have begun to scold us already."

      "Just at the very commencement," added Blanche.

      "Commencement!—what, is there to be a sequel? a finish?"

      "A finish? we hope not," said Rose, laughing like mad.

      "All we ask is, that it should last forever," added Blanche, sharing in the hilarity of her sister.

      Dagobert looked gravely from one to the other of the two maidens, as if trying to guess this enigma; but when he saw their sweet, innocent faces gracefully animated by a frank, ingenuous laugh, he reflected that they would not be so gay if they had any serious matter for self-reproach, and he felt pleased at seeing them so merry in the midst of their precarious position.

      "Laugh on, my children!" he said. "I like so much to see you laugh."

      Then, thinking that was not precisely the way in which he ought to treat the singular confession of the young girls, he added in a gruff voice: "Yes, I like to see you laugh—but not when you receive fair visitors with blue eyes, young ladies!—Come, acknowledge that I'm an old fool to listen to such nonsense—you are only making game of me."

      "Nay, what we tell you is quite true."

      "You know we never tell stories," added Rose.

      "They are right—they never fib," said the soldier, in renewed perplexity.

      "But how the devil is such a visit possible? I sleep before your door—Spoil-sport sleeps under your window—and all the blue eyes and fair locks in the world must come in by one of those two ways—and, if they had tried it, the dog and I, who have both of us quick ears, would have received their visits after our fashion. But come, children! pray, speak to the purpose. Explain yourselves!"

      The two sisters, who saw, by the expression of Dagobert's countenance, that he felt really uneasy, determined no longer to trifle with his kindness. They exchanged a glance, and Rose, taking in her little hand the coarse, broad palm of the veteran, said to him: "Come, do not plague yourself! We will tell you all about the visits of our friend, Gabriel."

      "There you are again!—He has a name, then?"

      "Certainly, he has a name. It is Gabriel."

      "Is it not a pretty name, Dagobert? Oh, you will see and love, as we do, our beautiful Gabriel!"

      "I'll love your beautiful Gabriel, will I?" said the veteran, shaking his head—"Love your beautiful Gabriel?—that's as it may be. I must first know—" Then, interrupting himself, he added: "It is queer. That reminds me of something."

      "Of what, Dagobert?"

      "Fifteen years ago, in the last letter that your father, on his return from France, brought me from my wife: she told me that, poor as she was, and with our little growing Agricola on her hands, she had taken in a poor deserted child, with the face of a cherub, and the name of Gabriel—and only a short time since I heard of him again."

      "And from whom, then?"

      "You shall know that by and by."

      "Well, then—since you have a Gabriel of your own—there is the more reason that you should love ours."

      "Yours! but who is yours? I am on thorns till you tell me."

      "You know, Dagobert," resumed Rose, "that Blanche and I are accustomed to fall asleep, holding each other by the hand."

      "Yes, yes, I have often seen you in your cradle. I was never tired of looking at you; it was so pretty."

      "Well, then—two nights ago, we had just fallen asleep, when we beheld—"

      "Oh, it was in a dream!" cried Dagobert. "Since you were asleep, it was in a dream!"

      "Certainly, in a dream—how else would you have it?"

      "Pray let my sister go on with her tale!"

      "All, well and good!" said the soldier with a sigh of satisfaction; "well and good! To be sure, I was tranquil enough in any case—because—but still—I like it better to be a dream. Continue, my little Rose."

      "Once asleep, we both dreamt the same thing."

      "What! both the same?"

      "Yes, Dagobert; for the next morning when we awoke we related our two dreams to each other."

      "And they were exactly alike."

      "That's odd enough, my children; and what was this dream all about?"

      "In our dream, Blanche and I were seated together, when we saw enter a beautiful angel, with a long white robe, fair locks, blue eyes, and so handsome and benign a countenance, that we elapsed our hands as if to pray to him. Then he told us, in a soft voice, that he was called Gabriel; that our mother had sent him to be our guardian angel, and that he would never abandon us."

      "And, then," added Blanche, "he took us each by the hand, and, bending his fair face over us, looked at us for a long time in silence, with so much goodness—with so much goodness, that we could not withdraw our eyes from his."

      "Yes," resumed Rose, "and his look seemed, by turns, to attract us, or to go to our hearts. At length, to our great sorrow, Gabriel quitted us, having told us that we should see him again the following night."

      "And did he make his appearance?"

      "Certainly. Judge with what impatience we waited the moment of sleep, to see if our friend would return, and visit us in our slumbers."

      "Humph!" said Dagobert, scratching his forehead; "this reminds me, young ladies, that you kept on rubbing your eyes last evening, and pretending to be half asleep. I wager, it was all to send me away the sooner, and to get to your dream as fast as possible."

      "Yes, Dagobert."

      "The reason being, you could not say to me, as you would to Spoil-sport:

       Lie down, Dagobert! Well—so your friend Gabriel came back?"

      "Yes, and this time he talked to us a great deal, and gave us, in the name of our mother, such touching, such noble counsels, that the next day, Rose and I spent our whole time in recalling every word of our guardian angel—and his face, and his look—"

      "This reminds me again, young ladies, that you were whispering all along the road this morning; and that when I spoke of white, you answered black."

      "Yes, Dagobert, we were thinking of Gabriel."

      "And, ever since, we love him as well as he loves us."

      "But he is only one between both of you!"

      "Was not our mother one between us?"

      "And СКАЧАТЬ