"And then," resumed Rose, in a voice that was growing still fainter, "promise to appear to two other persons, that have been so kind to us--
good Mother Bunch--and the beautiful Lady Adrienne."
"We forget none whom we have loved," said Blanche, with a last effort.
"Now, God grant we may go to our mother, never to leave her more!"
"You promised it good angel--you know you did--in the dream.You said to us: `Poor children--come from so far--you will have traversed the earth--
to rest on the maternal bosom!'"
"Oh! it is dreadful--dreadful! So young--and no hope!" murmured Gabriel, as he buried his face in his hands."Almighty Father! Thy views are impenetrable.Alas! yet why should these children die this cruel death?"
Rose heaved a deep sigh and said in an expiring tone: "Let us be buried together!--united in life, in death not divided--"
And the two turned their dying looks upon Gabriel, and stretched out towards him their supplicating hands.
"Oh, blessed martyrs to a generous devotion!" cried the missionary, raising to heaven his eyes streaming with tears."Angelic souls!
treasures of innocence and truth! ascend, ascend to heaven--since God calls you to him, and the earth is not worthy to possess you!"
"Sister! father!" were the last words that the orphans pronounced with their dying voices.
And then the twins, by a last instinctive impulse, endeavored to clasp each other, and their eyes half-opened to exchange yet another glance.
They shuddered twice or thrice, their limbs stiffened, a deep sigh struggled from their violet-colored lips.Rose and Blanche were both dead! Gabriel and Sister Martha, after closing the eyes of the orphans, knelt down to pray by the side of that funeral couch.Suddenly a great tumult was heard in the room.Rapid footsteps, mingled with imprecations, sounded close at hand, the curtain was drawn aside from this mournful scene, and Dagobert entered precipitately, pale, haggard, his dress in disorder.At sight of Gabriel and the Sister of Charity kneeling beside the corpses of his children, the soldier uttered a terrible roar, and tried to advance--but in vain--for, before Gabriel could reach him, Dagobert fell flat on the ground, and his gray head struck violently on the floor.
It is night--a dark and stormy night.One o'clock in the morning has just sounded from the church of Montmartre.It is to the cemetery of Montmartre that is carried the coffin which, according to the last wishes of Rose and Blanche contains them both.Through the thick shadow, which rests upon that field of death, may be seen moving a pale light.It is the gravedigger.He advances with caution; a dark lantern is in his hand.A man wrapped in a cloak accompanies him.He holds down his head and weeps.It is Samuel.The old Jew--the keeper of the house in the Rue Saint-Francois.On the night of the funeral of Jacques Rennepont, the first who died of the seven heirs, and who was buried in another cemetery, Samuel had a similar mysterious interview with the gravedigger, to obtain a favor at the price of gold.A strange and awful favor!
After passing down several paths, bordered with cypress trees, by the side of many tombs, the Jew and the gravedigger arrived, at a little glade, situated near the western wall of the cemetery.The night was so dark, that scarcely anything could be seen.After moving his lantern up and down, and all about, the gravedigger showed Samuel, at the foot of a tall yew-tree, with long black branches, a little mound of newly-raised earth, and said: "It is here."
"You are sure of it?"
"Yes, yes--two bodies in one coffin! it is not such a common thing."
"Alas! two in the same coffin!" said the Jew, with a deep sigh.
"Now that you know the place, what do you want more?" asked the gravedigger.
Samuel did not answer.He fell on his knees, and piously kissed the little mound.Then rising, with his cheeks bathed in tears, he approached the gravedigger, and spoke to him for some moments in a whisper--though they were alone, and in the centre of that deserted place.Then began between those two men a mysterious dialogue, which the night enveloped in shade and silence.The gravedigger, alarmed at what Samuel asked him, at first refused his request.
But the Jew, employing persuasions, entreaties, tears, and at last the seduction of the jingling gold, succeeded in conquering the scruples of the gravedigger.Though the latter trembled at the thought of what he promised, he said to Samuel in an agitated tone: "To-morrow night, then, at two o'clock."
"I shall be behind the wall," answered Samuel, pointing out the place with the aid of a lantern."I will throw three stones into the cemetery, for a signal."
"Yes, three stones--as a signal," replied the gravedigger shuddering, and wiping the cold sweat from his forehead.
With considerable remains of vigor, notwithstanding his great age, Samuel availed himself of the broken surface of the low wall, and climbing over it, soon disappeared.The gravedigger returned home with hasty strides.
From time to time, he looked fearfully behind him, as though he had been pursued by some fatal vision.
On the evening after the funeral of Rose and Blanche, Rodin wrote two letters.The first, addressed to his mysterious correspondent at Rome, alluded to the deaths of Jacques Rennepont, and Rose and Blanche Simon, as well as to the cession of M.Hardy's property, and the donation of Gabriel--events which reduced the claimants of the inheritance to two-
-Mdlle.de Cardoville and Djalma.This first note written by Rodin for Rome, contained only the following words: "Five from seven leaves two.
Announce this result to the Cardinal-Prince.Let him go on.I advance-
advance-advance!" The second note, in a feigned hand, was addressed to Marshal Simon, to be delivered by a sure messenger, contained these few lines: "If there is yet time, make haste to return.Your daughters are both dead.You shall learn who killed them."
