Produced by David Widger and Pat Castevens
By Eugene Sue
XL. The East Indian in Paris
XLI. Rising
XLII. Doubts
XLIII. The Letter
XLIV. Adrienne and Djalma
XLV. The Consultation
XLVI. Mother Bunch's Diary
XLVII. The Diary Continued
XLVIII. The Discovery
XLIX. The Trysting-Place of the Wolves
L. The Common Dwelling-House
LI. The Secret
LII. Revelations
Since three days, Mdlle. de Cardoville had left Dr. Baleinier's. Thefollowing scene took place in a little dwelling in the Rue Blanche, towhich Djalma had been conducted in the name of his unknown protector.Fancy to yourself a pretty, circular apartment, hung with Indian drapery,with purple figures on a gray ground, just relieved by a few threads ofgold. The ceiling, towards the centre, is concealed by similar hangings,tied together by a thick, silken cord; the two ends of this cord, unequalin length, terminated, instead of tassels, in two tiny Indian lamps ofgold filigreed-work, marvellously finished. By one of those ingeniouscombinations, so common in barbarous countries, these lamps served alsoto burn perfumes. Plates of blue crystal, let in between the openings ofthe arabesque, and illumined by the interior light, shone with so limpidan azure, that the golden lamps seemed starred with transparentsapphires. Light clouds, of whitish vapor rose incessantly from theselamps, and spread all around their balmy odor.
Daylight was only admitted to this room (it was about two o'clock in theafternoon) through a little greenhouse, on the other side of a door ofplate-glass, made to slide into the thickness of the wall, by means of agroove. A Chinese shade was arranged so as to hide or replace this glassat pleasure. Some dwarf palm tress, plantains, and other Indianproductions, with thick leaves of a metallic green, arranged in clustersin this conservatory, formed, as it were, the background to two largevariegated bushes of exotic flowers, which were separated by a narrowpath, paved with yellow and blue Japanese tiles, running to the foot ofthe glass. The daylight, already much dimmed by the leaves through whichit passed, took a hue of singular mildness as it mingled with the azurelustre of the perfumed lamps, and the crimson brightness of the fire inthe tall chimney of oriental porphyry. In the obscurity of thisapartment, impregnated with sweet odors and the aromatic vapor of Persiantobacco, a man with brown, hanging locks, dressed in a long robe of darkgreen, fastened round the waist by a parti-colored sash, was kneelingupon a magnificent Turkey carpet, filling the golden bowl of a hookah;the long, flexible tube of this pipe, after rolling its folds upon thecarpet, like a scarlet serpent with silver scales, rested between theslender fingers of Djalma, who was reclining negligently on a divan. Theyoung prince was bareheaded; his jet-black hair, parted on the middle ofhis forehead, streamed waving about his face and neck of antiquebeauty—their warm transparent colors resembling amber or topaz. Leaninghis elbow on a cushion, he supported his chin with the palm of his righthand. The flowing sleeve of his robe, falling back from his arm, whichwas round as that of a woman, revealed mysterious signs formerly tattooedthere in India by a Thug's needle. The son of Radja-sing held in his lefthand the amber mouthpiece of his pipe. His robe of magnificent cashmere,with a border of a thousand hues, reaching to h