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This eBook from the Gutenberg Project consists of approximately 1,533 pages of information about The Wandering Jew Complete.

“’If you want to keep your own bones unbroken, bide where you are, beside the scaffold, and, as the victims pass, hoot at them!’”

[24] See Pope Gregory XVI.’s Encyclical Letter to the Bishops in France, 1832.

[25] Hardly had the Sixteenth Gregory ascended the pontifical throne, than news came of the rising in Bologna.  His first idea was to call the Austrians, and incite the Sanfedist volunteer bands of fanatics.  Cardinal Albini defeated the liberals at Cesena, where his followers pillaged churches, sacked the town, and ill-treated women.  At Forli, cold-blooded murders were committed.  In 1832 the Sanfedists (Holy Faithites) openly paraded their medals, bearing the heads of the Duke of Modena and the Pope; letters issued by the apostolic confederation; privileges and indulgences.  They took the following oath:  “I.  A. B., vow to rear the throne and altar over the bones of infamous freedom shriekers, and exterminate these latter without pity for children’s cries and women’s tears.”  The disorders perpetrated by these marauders went beyond all bounds; the Romish Court regularized anarchy and organized the Sanfedists into volunteer corps, to which fresh privileges were granted. [Revue deux Mondes, Nov. 15th, 1844.—­“La Revolution en Italie.”]

CHAPTER XXXI.

Friendly services.

Notwithstanding his surprise and uneasiness, Rodin did not frown.  He began by locking his door after him, as he noticed the young girl’s inquisitive glance.  Then he said to her good-naturedly, “Who do you want, my dear?”

“M.  Rodin,” repeated Rose-Pompon, stoutly, opening her bright blue eyes to their full extent, and looking Rodin full in the face.

“It’s not here,” said he, moving towards the stairs.  “I do not know him.  Inquire above or below.”

“No, you don’t! giving yourself airs at your age!” said Rose-Pompon, shrugging her shoulders.  “As if we did not know that you are M. Rodin.”

“Charlemagne,” said the socius, bowing; “Charlemagne, to serve you—­if I am able.”

“You are not able,” answered Rose-Pompon, majestically; then she added with a mocking air, “So, we have our little pussy-cat hiding-places; we change our name; we are afraid Mamma Rodin will find us out.”

“Come, my dear child,” said the socius, with a paternal smile; “you have come to the right quarter.  I am an old man, but I love youth—­happy, joyous youth!  Amuse yourself, pray, at my expense.  Only let me pass, for I am in a hurry.”  And Rodin again advanced towards the stairs.

“M.  Rodin,” said Rose-Pompon, in a solemn voice, “I have very important things to say to you, and advice to ask about a love affair.”

“Why, little madcap that you are! have you nobody to tease in your own house, that you must come here?”

“I lodge in this house, M. Rodin,” answered Rose-Pompon, laying a malicious stress on the name of her victim.

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