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diff --git a/22086-h/22086-h.htm b/22086-h/22086-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..5e7bff3 --- /dev/null +++ b/22086-h/22086-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,12728 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> +<html> +<head> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=ISO-8859-1" /> +<title>The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Son of Monte-Cristo, Volume II (of 2), by Alexandre Dumas père</title> + <style type="text/css"> +/*<![CDATA[ XML blockout */ +<!-- + p { margin-top: .75em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .75em; + } + h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 { + text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ + clear: both; + } + hr { width: 33%; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + clear: both; + } + + body{margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; + } + + hr.smler { width: 10%; } + + .pagenum { /* uncomment the next line for invisible page numbers */ + /* visibility: hidden; */ + position: absolute; + left: 92%; + font-size: smaller; + text-align: right; + text-indent: 0px; + } /* page numbers */ + + .center {text-align: center;} + .smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + + .right {text-align: right;} + .tbrk { margin-top: 2.75em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .75em;} + + .mynote { background-color: #DDE; color: black; padding: .5em; margin-left: 5%; + margin-right: 5%; } /* colored box for notes at beginning of file */ + + /* index */ + + div.index ul { list-style: none; } + div.index ul li span.mono {font-family: monospace;} + hr.full { width: 100%; + margin-top: 3em; + margin-bottom: 0em; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + height: 4px; + border-width: 4px 0 0 0; /* remove all borders except the top one */ + border-style: solid; + border-color: #000000; + clear: both; } + pre {font-size: 75%;} + // --> + /* XML end ]]>*/ + </style> +</head> +<body> +<h1>The Project Gutenberg eBook, The Son of Monte-Cristo, Volume II (of 2), by +Alexandre Dumas père</h1> +<pre> +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at <a href = "http://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a></pre> +<p>Title: The Son of Monte-Cristo, Volume II (of 2)</p> +<p>Author: Alexandre Dumas père</p> +<p>Release Date: July 16, 2007 [eBook #22086]</p> +<p>Language: English</p> +<p>Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1</p> +<p>***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE SON OF MONTE-CRISTO, VOLUME II (OF 2)***</p> +<p> </p> +<h3>E-text prepared by Juergen Lohnert, Martin Pettit,<br /> + and the Project Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team<br /> + (http://www.pgdp.net)</h3> +<p> </p> +<div class="mynote"><p class="center">Transcriber's Note:</p> + <p> Obvious typographical errors have been corrected, and + inconsistent spelling has been made consistent.<br /> + <br /> + This volume does not have any illustrations. +</p></div> +<p> </p> +<hr class="full" /> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> + +<p class="tbrk"> </p> + +<h3>THE WORKS OF</h3> + +<h2>ALEXANDRE DUMAS</h2> + +<h3>IN THIRTY VOLUMES</h3> + +<p class="tbrk"> </p> + +<p class="center"><img src="images/002-1.png" width='31' height='40' alt="logo" /></p> + +<p class="tbrk"> </p> + +<h1>THE SON OF MONTE-CRISTO</h1> + +<h3>VOLUME TWO</h3> + +<p class="tbrk"> </p> + +<p class="center"><img src="images/002-1.png" width='31' height='40' alt="logo" /></p> + +<p class="tbrk"> </p> + +<h3>ILLUSTRATED WITH DRAWINGS ON WOOD<br />BY EMINENT FRENCH AND AMERICAN ARTISTS</h3> + +<p class="tbrk"> </p> + +<p class="center"><img src="images/002-2.png" width='139' height='150' alt="publishers logo" /></p> + +<p class="tbrk"> </p> + +<h2>NEW YORK<br />P. F. COLLIER AND SON<br />MCMIV</h2> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1">[Pg 1]</a></span></p> + +<h2>CONTENTS</h2> + +<div class="index"> +<ul> +<li><span class="mono"> <a href="#CHAPTER_I">I.</a></span> FANFARO'S ADVENTURES</li> +<li><span class="mono"> <a href="#CHAPTER_II">II.</a></span> THE GOLDEN SUN</li> +<li><span class="mono"> <a href="#CHAPTER_III">III.</a></span> OLD AND NEW ACQUAINTANCES</li> +<li><span class="mono"> <a href="#CHAPTER_IV">IV.</a></span> BROTHER AND SISTER</li> +<li><span class="mono"> <a href="#CHAPTER_V">V.</a></span> MASTER AND SERVANT</li> +<li><span class="mono"> <a href="#CHAPTER_VI">VI.</a></span> THE PERFORMANCE</li> +<li><span class="mono"> <a href="#CHAPTER_VII">VII.</a></span> PIERRE LABARRE</li> +<li><span class="mono"> <a href="#CHAPTER_VIII">VIII.</a></span> A MEETING</li> +<li><span class="mono"> <a href="#CHAPTER_IX">IX.</a></span> THE GRATITUDE OF A NOBLEMAN</li> +<li><span class="mono"> <a href="#CHAPTER_X">X.</a></span> ESCAPED</li> +<li><span class="mono"> <a href="#CHAPTER_XI">XI.</a></span> IN PARIS</li> +<li><span class="mono"> <a href="#CHAPTER_XII">XII.</a></span> THE "MARQUIS"</li> +<li><span class="mono"> <a href="#CHAPTER_XIII">XIII.</a></span> THE PURSUIT</li> +<li><span class="mono"> <a href="#CHAPTER_XIV">XIV.</a></span> LOUISE</li> +<li><span class="mono"> <a href="#CHAPTER_XV">XV.</a></span> SWINDLED</li> +<li><span class="mono"> <a href="#CHAPTER_XVI">XVI.</a></span> MACHIAVELLI AND COMPANY</li> +<li><span class="mono"> <a href="#CHAPTER_XVII">XVII.</a></span> LOUISON</li> +<li><span class="mono"> <a href="#CHAPTER_XVIII">XVIII.</a></span> THE CANAL</li> +<li><span class="mono"> <a href="#CHAPTER_XIX">XIX.</a></span> SPLENDOR</li> +<li><span class="mono"> <a href="#CHAPTER_XX">XX.</a></span> IN LEIGOUTTE</li> +<li><span class="mono"> <a href="#CHAPTER_XXI">XXI.</a></span> EXCITED</li> +<li><span class="mono"> <a href="#CHAPTER_XXII">XXII.</a></span> THE TRIAL</li> +<li><span class="mono"> <a href="#CHAPTER_XXIII">XXIII.</a></span> THE CRISIS</li> +<li><span class="mono"> <a href="#CHAPTER_XXIV">XXIV.</a></span> THE AUTOPSY</li> +<li><span class="mono"> <a href="#CHAPTER_XXV">XXV.</a></span> FROM SCYLLA TO CHARYBDIS</li> +<li><span class="mono"> <a href="#CHAPTER_XXVI">XXVI.</a></span> MISTAKEN</li> +<li><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_2" id="Page_2">[Pg 2]</a></span><span class="mono"> <a href="#CHAPTER_XXVII">XXVII.</a></span> FREEDOM—BENEDETTO'S REVENGE</li> +<li><span class="mono"> <a href="#CHAPTER_XXVIII">XXVIII.</a></span> SPERO</li> +<li><span class="mono"> <a href="#CHAPTER_XXIX">XXIX.</a></span> FORWARD, MARCH</li> +<li><span class="mono"> <a href="#CHAPTER_XXX">XXX.</a></span> JANE ZILD</li> +<li><span class="mono"> <a href="#CHAPTER_XXXI">XXXI.</a></span> A THUNDERBOLT</li> +<li><span class="mono"> <a href="#CHAPTER_XXXII">XXXII.</a></span> OLD ACQUAINTANCES</li> +<li><span class="mono"> <a href="#CHAPTER_XXXIII">XXXIII.</a></span> THE CATASTROPHE</li> +<li><span class="mono"> <a href="#CHAPTER_XXXIV">XXXIV.</a></span> A SHOT</li> +<li><span class="mono"> <a href="#CHAPTER_XXXV">XXXV.</a></span> WILL SHE LIVE?</li> +<li><span class="mono"> <a href="#CHAPTER_XXXVI">XXXVI.</a></span> MELOSAN'S SECRET</li> +<li><span class="mono"> <a href="#CHAPTER_XXXVII">XXXVII.</a></span> CARMEN</li> +<li><span class="mono"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXXVIII">XXXVIII.</a></span> RECOLLECTIONS</li> +<li><span class="mono"> <a href="#CHAPTER_XXXIX">XXXIX.</a></span> DISAPPEARED</li> +<li><span class="mono"> <a href="#CHAPTER_XL">XL.</a></span> A CONFESSION</li> +<li><span class="mono"> <a href="#CHAPTER_XLI">XLI.</a></span> ON THE TRAIL</li> +<li><span class="mono"> <a href="#CHAPTER_XLII">XLII.</a></span> THE TRAP</li> +<li><span class="mono"> <a href="#CHAPTER_XLIII">XLIII.</a></span> THE PATH OF THORNS</li> +<li><span class="mono"> <a href="#CHAPTER_XLIV">XLIV.</a></span> THE PASHA</li> +<li><span class="mono"> <a href="#CHAPTER_XLV">XLV.</a></span> HOW CARMEN KEEPS HER WORD</li> +<li><span class="mono"> <a href="#CHAPTER_XLVI">XLVI.</a></span> IN COURBEVOIE</li> +<li><span class="mono"> <a href="#CHAPTER_XLVII">XLVII.</a></span> THE DEVOTED</li> +<li><span class="mono"> <a href="#CHAPTER_XLVIII">XLVIII.</a></span> UNITED IN DEATH</li> +<li><span class="mono"> <a href="#CHAPTER_XLIX">XLIX.</a></span> THE SPECTRE</li> +<li><span class="mono"> <a href="#CHAPTER_L">L.</a></span></li> +<li><span class="mono"><a href="#EPILOGUE">EPILOGUE.</a></span>—THE ABBE DANTES</li> +</ul> +</div> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[Pg 3]</a></span></p> + +<h1>THE SON OF MONTE-CRISTO</h1> + +<hr class="smler" /> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_I" id="CHAPTER_I"></a>CHAPTER I</h2> + +<h3>FANFARO'S ADVENTURES</h3> + +<p>Spero, the son of Monte-Cristo, was peacefully sleeping in another room, +while, gathered around the table in the dining-room of Fanfaro's house, +were Monte-Cristo, Miss Clary, Madame Caraman, Coucou, and Albert de +Morcerf, ready to listen to the story of Fanfaro's adventures, which, as +narrated at the close of the preceding volume, he was about to begin.</p> + +<p>The following is Fanfaro's narrative:</p> + +<p>It was about the middle of December, 1813, that a solitary horseman was +pursuing the road which leads through the Black Forest from Breisach to +Freiburg. The rider was a man in the prime of life. He wore a long brown +overcoat, reaching to his knees, and shoes fastened with steel buckles. +His powdered hair was combed back and tied with a black band, while his +head was covered with a cap that had a projecting peak. The evening +came, and darkness spread over the valley: the Black Forest had not +received its name in vain. A few miles from Freiburg there stands a +lonely hill, named the Emperor's Chair. Dark masses of basalt form the +steps of this natural throne; tall evergreens<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[Pg 4]</a></span> stretch their branches +protectingly over the hill. A fresh mountain air is cast about by the +big trees, and the north wind is in eternal battle with this giant, +which it bends but can never break.</p> + +<p>Pierre Labarre, the solitary horseman, was the confidential servant of +the Marquis de Fougereuse, and the darker the road became the more +uncomfortable he felt. He continually spurred on his horse, but the +tired animal at every stride struck against tree roots which lined the +narrow path.</p> + +<p>"Quick, Margotte," said Pierre to the animal, "you know how anxiously we +are awaited, and besides we are the bearers of good news."</p> + +<p>The animal appeared to understand the words, began to trot again at a +smart pace, and for a time all went well.</p> + +<p>Darker and darker grew the night, the storm raged fiercer and fiercer, +and the roar of the distant river sounded like the tolling of +church-bells.</p> + +<p>Pierre had now reached a hill, upon which century-old lindens stretched +their leafless branches toward heaven; the road parted at this point, +and the rider suddenly reined in his horse. One of the paths led to +Breisach, the other to Gundebfingen. Pierre rose in the stirrups and +cautiously glanced about, but then he shook his head and muttered:</p> + +<p>"Curious, I can discover nothing, and yet I thought I heard the clatter +of a horse's hoofs."</p> + +<p>He mechanically put his hand in his breast-pocket and nodded his head in +a satisfied way.</p> + +<p>"The portfolio is still in the right place," he whispered. "Forward, +Margotte—we must get under shelter."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[Pg 5]</a></span></p><p>But just as the steed was about to start, the rider again heard the +sound of a horse's hoofs on the frozen ground, and in a twinkling a +horse bounded past Pierre like the wind. It was the second rider who had +rushed past the servant at such a rapid gait.</p> + +<p>Pierre was not superstitious, yet he felt his heart move quickly when +the horseman galloped past him, and old legends about spectres rose up +in his mind. Perhaps the rider was the wild huntsman of whom he had +heard so much, or what was more likely, it was no spectre, but a robber. +This last possibility frightened Pierre very much. He bent down and took +a pistol out of the saddle-bag. He cocked the trigger and continued on +his way, while he muttered to himself:</p> + +<p>"Courage, old boy; if it should come to the worst you will kill your +man."</p> + +<p>Pierre rode on unembarrassed, and had reached a road which would bring +him to Freiburg in less than half an hour. Suddenly a report was heard, +and Pierre uttered a hollow groan. A bullet had struck his breast.</p> + +<p>Bending with pain over his horse's neck he looked about. The bushes +parted and a man enveloped in a long cloak sprung forth and rushed upon +the servant. The moment he put his hand on the horse's rein, Pierre +raised himself and in an angry voice exclaimed:</p> + +<p>"Not so quickly, bandits!"</p> + +<p>At the same moment he aimed his pistol and fired. The bandit uttered a +moan and recoiled. But he did not sink to the ground as Pierre had +expected. He disappeared in the darkness. A second shot fired after him +struck in the nearest tree, and Pierre swore roundly.</p> + +<p>"Confound the Black Forest," he growled as he rode<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[Pg 6]</a></span> along; "if I had not +fortunately had my leather portfolio in my breast-pocket, I would be a +dead man now! The scoundrel must have eyes like an owl: he aimed as well +as if he had been on a rifle range. Hurry along, Margotte, or else a +second highwayman may come and conclude what the other began."</p> + +<p>The horse trotted along, and Pierre heard anew the gallop of a second +animal. The bandit evidently desired to keep his identity unknown.</p> + +<p>"Curious," muttered Pierre, "I did not see his face, but his voice +seemed familiar."</p> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[Pg 7]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_II" id="CHAPTER_II"></a>CHAPTER II</h2> + +<h3>THE GOLDEN SUN</h3> + +<p>Mr. Schwan, the host of the Golden Sun at Sainte-Ame, a market town in +the Vosges, was very busy. Although the month of February was not an +inviting one, three travellers had arrived that morning at the Golden +Sun, and six more were expected.</p> + +<p>Schwan had that morning made an onslaught on his chicken coop, and, +while his servants were robbing the murdered hens of their feathers, the +host walked to the door of the inn and looked at the sky.</p> + +<p>A loud laugh, which shook the windows of the inn, made Schwan turn round +hurriedly: at the same moment two muscular arms were placed upon his +shoulders, and a resounding kiss was pressed upon his brown cheek.</p> + +<p>"What is the meaning of this?" stammered the host, trying in vain to +shake off the arms which held him. "The devil take me, but these arms +must belong to my old friend Firejaws," exclaimed Schwan, now laughing; +and hardly had he spoken the words than the possessor of the arms, a +giant seven feet tall, cheerfully said:</p> + +<p>"Well guessed, Father Schwan. Firejaws in <i>propria persona</i>."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[Pg 8]</a></span></p><p>While the host was cordially welcoming the new arrival, several +servants hurried from the kitchen, and soon a bottle of wine and two +glasses stood upon the cleanly scoured inn table.</p> + +<p>"Make yourself at home, my boy," said Schwan, gayly, as he filled the +glasses.</p> + +<p>The giant, whose figure was draped in a fantastical costume, grinned +broadly, and did justice to the host's invitation. The sharply curved +nose and the large mouth with dazzling teeth, the full blond hair, and +the broad, muscular shoulders, were on a colossal scale. The +tight-fitting coat of the athlete was dark red, the trousers were of +black velvet, and richly embroidered shirt-sleeves made up the wonderful +appearance of the man.</p> + +<p>"Father Schwan, I must embrace you once more," said the giant after a +pause, as he stretched out his arms.</p> + +<p>"Go ahead, but do not crush me," laughed the host.</p> + +<p>"Are you glad to see me again?"</p> + +<p>"I should say so. How are you getting along?"</p> + +<p>"Splendidly, as usual; my breast is as firm still as if it were made of +iron," replied the giant, striking a powerful blow upon his breast.</p> + +<p>"Has business been good?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, I am satisfied."</p> + +<p>"Where are your people?"</p> + +<p>"On their way here. The coach was too slow for me, so I left them behind +and went on in advance."</p> + +<p>"Well, and—your wife?" asked the host, hesitatingly.</p> + +<p>The giant closed his eyes and was silent; Schwan looked down at his +feet, and after a pause continued:</p> + +<p>"Things don't go as they should, I suppose?"</p> + +<p>"Let me tell you something," replied the giant, firmly;<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[Pg 9]</a></span> "if it is just +the same to you, I would rather not talk on that subject."</p> + +<p>"Ah, really? Poor fellow! Yes, these women!"</p> + +<p>"Not so quickly, cousin—my deceased wife was a model of a woman."</p> + +<p>"True; when she died I knew you would never find another one to equal +her."</p> + +<p>"My little Caillette is just like her."</p> + +<p>"Undoubtedly. When I saw the little one last, about six years ago, she +was as pretty as a picture."</p> + +<p>"She is seventeen now, and still very handsome."</p> + +<p>"What are the relations between your wife and you?"</p> + +<p>"They couldn't be better; Rolla cannot bear the little one."</p> + +<p>The host nodded.</p> + +<p>"Girdel," he said, softly, "when you told me that day that you were +going to marry the 'Cannon Queen,' I was frightened. The woman's look +displeased me. Does she treat Caillette badly?"</p> + +<p>"She dare not touch a hair of the child's head," hissed the giant, +"or—"</p> + +<p>"Do not get angry; but tell me rather whether Bobichel is still with +you?"</p> + +<p>"Of course."</p> + +<p>"And Robeckal?"</p> + +<p>"His time is about up."</p> + +<p>"That would be no harm; and the little one?"</p> + +<p>"The little one?" laughed Girdel. "Well, he is about six feet."</p> + +<p>"You do not say so! Is he still so useful?"</p> + +<p>"Cousin," said the giant, slowly, "Fanfaro is a <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[Pg 10]</a></span>treasure! Do you know, +he is of a different breed from us; no, do not contradict me, I know +what I am speaking about. I am an athlete; I have arms like logs and +hands like claws, therefore it is no wonder that I perform difficult +exercises; but Fanfaro is tender and fine; he has arms and hands like a +girl, and skin like velvet, yet he can stand more than I can. He can +down two of me, yet he is soft and shrewd, and has a heart of gold."</p> + +<p>"Then you love him as much as you used to do?" laughed the host, in a +satisfied way.</p> + +<p>"Much more if it is possible; I—"</p> + +<p>The giant stopped short, and when Schwan followed the direction of his +eye, he saw that the wagon which carried the fortune of Cesar Girdel had +rolled into the courtyard.</p> + +<p>Upon four high wheels a large open box swung to and fro; on its four +sides were various colored posts, which served to carry the curtains, +which shut out the interior of the box from the eyes of the curious +world. The red and white curtains were now cast aside, and one could see +a mass of iron poles, rags, weights, empty barrels, hoops with and +without purple silk paper, the use of which was not clear to profane +eyes.</p> + +<p>The driver was dressed in yellow woollen cloth, and could at once be +seen to be a clown; he wore a high pasteboard cap adorned with bells, +and while he swung the whip with his right hand he held a trumpet in his +left, which he occasionally put to his lips and blew a blast loud enough +to wake the very stones. The man's face was terribly thin, his nose was +long and straight, and small dark eyes sparkled maliciously from under +his bushy eyebrows.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[Pg 11]</a></span></p><p>Behind Bobichel, for this was the clown's name, Caillette, the giant's +daughter, was seated. Her father had not overpraised his daughter: the +tender, rosy face of the young girl had wonderfully refined features; +deep blue soulful eyes lay half hidden under long, dark eyelashes, and +gold-blond locks fell over her white neck. Caillette appeared to be +enjoying herself, for her silvery laugh sounded continually, while she +was conversing with Bobichel.</p> + +<p>At the rear of the wagon upon a heap of bedding sat a woman whose +dimensions were fabulous. She was about forty-five years of age; her +face looked as if it had been chopped with an axe; the small eyes almost +disappeared beneath the puffed cheeks, and the broad breast as well as +the thick, red arms and claw-like hands were repulsive in the extreme. +Bushy hair of a dirty yellow color hung in a confused mass over the +shoulders of the virago, and her blue cloth jacket and woollen dress +were full of grease spots.</p> + +<p>Robeckal walked beside the wagon. He was of small stature, but nervous +and muscular. The small face lighted up by shrewd eyes had a yellowish +color; the long, thin arms would have done honor to a gorilla, and the +elasticity of his bones was monkeyish in the extreme. He wore a suit of +faded blue velvet, reddish brown hair only half covered his head, and a +mocking laugh lurked about the corners of his lips while he was softly +speaking to Rolla.</p> + +<p>Bobichel now jumped from the wagon. Girdel hurried from the house and +cordially exclaimed:</p> + +<p>"Welcome, children; you have remained out long and are not hungry, are +you?"</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[Pg 12]</a></span></p><p>"I could eat pebblestones," replied Bobichel, laughing. "Ah, there is +Schwan too. Well, old boy, how have you been getting along?"</p> + +<p>While the host and the clown were holding a conversation, Girdel went to +the wagon and stretched out his arms.</p> + +<p>"Jump, daughter," he laughingly said.</p> + +<p>Caillette did not hesitate long; she rose on her pretty toes and swung +herself over the edge of the wagon into her father's arms. The latter +kissed her heartily on both cheeks, and then placed her on the ground. +He then glanced around, and anxiously asked:</p> + +<p>"Where is Fanfaro?"</p> + +<p>"Here, Papa Firejaws," came cheerfully from the interior of the wagon, +and at the same moment a dark head appeared in sight above a large box. +The head was followed by a beautifully formed body, and placing his hand +lightly on the edge of the wagon, Fanfaro swung gracefully to the +ground.</p> + +<p>"Madcap, can't you stop turning?" scolded Girdel, laughingly; "go into +the house and get your breakfast!"</p> + +<p>Caillette, Fanfaro, and Bobichel went away; Girdel turned to his wife +and pleasantly said:</p> + +<p>"Rolla, I will now help you down."</p> + +<p>Rolla looked at him sharply, and then said in a rough, rasping voice:</p> + +<p>"Didn't I call you, Robeckal? Come and help me down!"</p> + +<p>Robeckal, who had been observing the chickens in the courtyard, slowly +approached the wagon.</p> + +<p>"What do you want?" he asked.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[Pg 13]</a></span></p><p>"Help me down," repeated Rolla.</p> + +<p>Girdel remained perfectly calm, but a careful observer might have +noticed the veins on his forehead swell. He measured Rolla and Robeckal +with a peculiar look, and before his look Rolla's eyes fell.</p> + +<p>"Robeckal, are you coming?" cried the virago, impatiently.</p> + +<p>"What do you wish here?" asked Girdel, coolly, as Robeckal turned to +Rolla.</p> + +<p>"What do I wish here?" replied Robeckal; "Madame Girdel has done me the +honor to call me, and—"</p> + +<p>"And you are thinking rather long about it," interrupted Rolla, gruffly.</p> + +<p>"I am here," growled Robeckal, laying his hand upon the edge of the +wagon.</p> + +<p>"No further!" commanded Girdel, in a threatening voice.</p> + +<p>"Ha! who is going to prevent me?"</p> + +<p>"I, wretch!" thundered Firejaws, in whose eyes a warning glance shone.</p> + +<p>"Bah! you are getting angry about nothing," said Robeckal, mockingly, +placing his other hand on the edge of the wagon.</p> + +<p>"Strike him, Robeckal!" cried Rolla, urgingly.</p> + +<p>Robeckal raised his right hand, but at the same moment the athlete +stretched him on the ground with a blow of his fist; he could thank his +stars that Girdel had not struck him with his full force, or else +Robeckal would never have got up again. With a cry of rage he sprung up +and threw himself upon the giant, who waited calmly for him with his +arms quietly folded over his breast; a sword shone in Robeckal's hand, +and how it<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[Pg 14]</a></span> happened neither he nor Rolla knew, but immediately after he +lay on top of the wagon, close to the Cannon Queen.</p> + +<p>"Enough of your rascality, Robeckal," said the voice of him who had +thrown the angry man upon the wagon.</p> + +<p>"I thought the wretched boy would come between us again," hissed Rolla; +and without waiting for any further help she sprung from the wagon and +rushed upon Fanfaro, for he it was who had come to Girdel's assistance.</p> + +<p>"Back, Rolla!" exclaimed Firejaws, hoarsely, as he laid his iron fist +upon his wife's shoulder. Schwan came to the door and cordially said:</p> + +<p>"Where are your comrades? The soup is waiting."</p> + +<p>Robeckal hurriedly glided from the wagon, and approaching close to +Rolla, he whispered a few words in her ear.</p> + +<p>"Let me go, Girdel," said the giantess. "Who would take such a stupid +joke in earnest? Come, I am hungry."</p> + +<p>Firejaws looked at his wife in amazement. Her face, which had been +purple with anger, was now overspread by a broad grin, and shrugging his +shoulders, Girdel walked toward the house. Fanfaro followed, and +Robeckal and Rolla remained alone.</p> + +<p>"We must make an end of it, Rolla," grumbled Robeckal.</p> + +<p>"I am satisfied. The sooner the better!"</p> + +<p>"Good. I shall do it to-night. See that you take a little walk afterward +on the country road. I will meet you there and tell you my plan."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[Pg 15]</a></span></p><p>"Do so. Let us go to dinner now, I am hungry."</p> + +<p>When Rolla and Robeckal entered the dining-room, Girdel, Caillette, +Bobichel, and Fanfaro were already sitting at table, and Schwan was just +bringing in a hot, steaming dish.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[Pg 16]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_III" id="CHAPTER_III"></a>CHAPTER III</h2> + +<h3>OLD AND NEW ACQUAINTANCES</h3> + +<p>While the hungry guests were eating, the door at the back of the large +dining-room was very softly opened. None of the strangers observed this, +but the host, whose eyes were all over, went toward the door, at the +threshold of which stood a man about forty years of age. The man was +small and lean, and wore a brown overcoat trimmed with fur; the coat was +cut out at the bosom and allowed a yellow vest and sky-blue tie to be +seen. Trousers of dark-blue cloth reached to the knee, and his +riding-boots, with spurs, completed the wonderfully made toilet.</p> + +<p>The man's face had a disagreeable expression. He had deep squinting +eyes, a large mouth, a broad nose, and long, bony fingers.</p> + +<p>When the host approached the stranger he bowed and respectfully asked:</p> + +<p>"How can I serve you, sir?"</p> + +<p>The stranger did not reply; his gaze was directed toward the table and +the guests, and the host, who had observed his look, again repeated the +question.</p> + +<p>The stranger walked into the middle of the room, and, seating himself at +a table, said:</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[Pg 17]</a></span></p><p>"Bring me a glass of brandy."</p> + +<p>"I thought—I believed—" began the host.</p> + +<p>"Do as I told you. I am expecting some one. Get a good dinner ready, and +as soon as—the other one arrives, you can serve it."</p> + +<p>"It shall be attended to," nodded Schwan, who thought the man was the +steward of some big lord.</p> + +<p>Just as the host was about to leave the room, the door was opened again +and two more travellers entered. The first comer threw a look at the new +arrivals, and a frown crossed his ugly face.</p> + +<p>The last two who entered were entirely dissimilar. One of them, to judge +from his upright bearing, must have formerly been a soldier. He was +dressed plainly in civilian's clothes, and his bushy white mustache gave +his face a threatening look; the deep blue eyes, however, served to +soften the features. The other man was evidently a carman; he wore a +blue linen blouse, leathern shoes, knee-breeches and a large round hat. +When the host praised his kitchen to the new-comers, his words fell on +fertile ground, for when he asked the first guest whether he would like +to have some ham and eggs, the proposition was at once accepted.</p> + +<p>"Where shall I serve the gentlemen?"</p> + +<p>For a moment there was deep silence. The guests had just perceived the +first comer and did not seem to be impressed by his appearance. +Nevertheless, the man who looked like a soldier decided that they should +be served at one of the side tables. When he said this Girdel looked up, +and his features showed that the new-comers were not strangers to him. +The man in the brown overcoat laughed mockingly when he perceived that +the two strangers chose<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[Pg 18]</a></span> a table as far away from his as possible. He +looked fixedly at them, and when Schwan brought him the brandy he had +ordered, he filled his glass and emptied it at one gulp. He then took +some newspapers out of his pocket and began to read, holding the pages +in such a way as to conceal his face.</p> + +<p>The host now brought the ham and eggs. As he placed them on the table, +the carman hastily asked:</p> + +<p>"How far is it, sir, from here to Remiremont?"</p> + +<p>"To Remiremont? Ah, I see the gentlemen do not belong to the vicinity. +To Remiremont is about two hours."</p> + +<p>"So much the better; we can get there then in the course of the +afternoon."</p> + +<p>"That is a question," remarked Schwan.</p> + +<p>"How so? What do you mean?"</p> + +<p>"The road is very bad," he replied.</p> + +<p>"That won't be so very dangerous."</p> + +<p>"Oh, but the floods!"</p> + +<p>"What's the matter with the floods?" said the old soldier.</p> + +<p>"The enormous rainfall of the last few weeks has swollen all the +mountain lakes," said the host, vivaciously, "and the road to Remiremont +is under water, so that it would be impossible for you to pass."</p> + +<p>"That would be bad," exclaimed the carman, excitedly.</p> + +<p>"It would be dangerous," remarked the old soldier.</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes, sir; last year two travellers were drowned between Sainte-Ame +and Remiremont; to tell the truth, the gentlemen looked like you!"</p> + +<p>"Thanks for the compliment!"</p> + +<p>"The gentlemen probably had no guide," said the carman.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[Pg 19]</a></span></p><p>"No."</p> + +<p>"Well, we shall take a guide along; can you get one for us?"</p> + +<p>"To-morrow, but not to-day."</p> + +<p>"Why not?"</p> + +<p>"Because my people are busy; but to-morrow it can be done."</p> + +<p>In the meantime, the acrobats had finished their meal. Girdel arose, +and, drawing close to the travellers, said:</p> + +<p>"If the gentlemen desire, they can go with us to-morrow to Remiremont."</p> + +<p>"Oh, that is a good idea," said the host gleefully; "accept, gentlemen. +If Girdel conducts you, you can risk it without any fear."</p> + +<p>In spite of the uncommon appearance of the athlete, the strangers did +not hesitate to accept Girdel's offer; they exchanged glances, and the +soldier said:</p> + +<p>"Accepted, sir. We are strangers here, and would have surely lost +ourselves. When do you expect to go?"</p> + +<p>"To-morrow morning. To-night we give a performance here, and with the +dawn of day we start for Remiremont."</p> + +<p>"Good. Can I invite you now to join us in a glass of wine?"</p> + +<p>Girdel protested more politely than earnestly; Schwan brought a bottle +and glasses, and the giant sat down by the strangers.</p> + +<p>While this was going on, the first comer appeared to be deeply immersed +in the paper, though he had not lost a word of the conversation, and as +Firejaws took a seat near the strangers, he began again to laugh +mockingly.</p> + +<p>Robeckal and Rolla now left the dining-room, while Fanfaro, Caillette +and Bobichel still remained seated; a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[Pg 20]</a></span> minute later Robeckal returned, +and drawing near to Girdel, softly said to him:</p> + +<p>"Master."</p> + +<p>"Well?"</p> + +<p>"Do you need me?"</p> + +<p>"What for?"</p> + +<p>"To erect the booth?"</p> + +<p>"No, Fanfaro and Bobichel will attend to it."</p> + +<p>"Then good-by for the present."</p> + +<p>Robeckal left. Hardly had the door closed behind him than the man in the +brown overcoat stopped reading his paper and left the room too.</p> + +<p>"One word, friend," he said to Robeckal.</p> + +<p>"Quick, what does it concern?"</p> + +<p>"Twenty francs for you, if you answer me properly."</p> + +<p>"Go ahead."</p> + +<p>"What is this Firejaws?"</p> + +<p>"Athlete, acrobat, wrestler—anything you please."</p> + +<p>"What is his right name?"</p> + +<p>"Girdel, Cesar Girdel."</p> + +<p>"Do you know the men with whom he just spoke?"</p> + +<p>"No."</p> + +<p>"You hate Girdel?"</p> + +<p>"Who told you so, and what is it your business?"</p> + +<p>"Ah, a great deal. If you hate him we can make a common thing of it. You +belong to his troupe?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, for the present."</p> + +<p>"Bah, long enough to earn a few gold pieces."</p> + +<p>"What is asked of me for that?"</p> + +<p>"You? Not much. You shall have an opportunity to pay back the athlete +everything you owe him in the way of hate, and besides you will be well +rewarded."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[Pg 21]</a></span></p><p>Robeckal shrugged his shoulders.</p> + +<p>"Humbug," he said, indifferently.</p> + +<p>"No, I mean it seriously."</p> + +<p>"I should like it to be done," replied Robeckal, dryly.</p> + +<p>"Here are twenty francs in advance."</p> + +<p>Robeckal stretched out his hand for the gold piece, let it fall into his +pocket, and disappeared without a word.</p> + +<p>"You have come too late, my friend," he laughed to himself. "Girdel will +be a dead man before the morrow comes, as sure as my name is Robeckal."</p> + +<p>In the meantime Girdel continued to converse with the two gentlemen; +Schwan went here and there, and Fanfaro, Caillette and Bobichel were +waiting for the athlete's orders for the evening performance.</p> + +<p>"How goes it?" asked the carman, now softly.</p> + +<p>"Good," replied Girdel, in the same tone.</p> + +<p>"The peasants are prepared?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. The seed is ripe. They are only waiting for the order to begin to +sow.</p> + +<p>"We must speak about this matter at greater length, but not here. Did +you notice the man who was reading the paper over there a little while +ago?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; he did not look as if he could instil confidence into any one; I +think he must be a lackey."</p> + +<p>"He could be a spy too; when can we speak to one another undisturbed?"</p> + +<p>"This evening after the performance, either in your room or in mine."</p> + +<p>"Let it be in yours; we can wait until the others sleep; let your door +remain open, Girdel."</p> + +<p>"I will not fail to do so."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[Pg 22]</a></span></p><p>"Then it is settled; keep mum. No one must know of our presence here."</p> + +<p>"Not even Fanfaro?"</p> + +<p>"No, not for any price."</p> + +<p>"But you do not distrust him? He is a splendid fellow—"</p> + +<p>"So much the better for him; nevertheless, he must not know anything. I +can tell you the reason; we wish to speak about him; we desire to +intrust certain things with him."</p> + +<p>"You couldn't find a better person."</p> + +<p>"I believe it. Good-by, now, until to-night."</p> + +<p>"<i>Au revoir!</i>"</p> + +<p>"Sir," said the carman, now aloud, "we accept your proposal with thanks, +and hope to reach Remiremont to-morrow with your help."</p> + +<p>"You shall."</p> + +<p>Girdel turned now to Fanfaro, and gayly cried:</p> + +<p>"To work, my son; we must dazzle the inhabitants of Sainte-Ame! Cousin +Schwan, have we got permission to give our performance? You are the +acting mayor."</p> + +<p>"I am," replied Schwan; "hand in your petition; here is some stamped +paper."</p> + +<p>"Fanfaro, write what is necessary," ordered Girdel; "you know I'm not +much in that line."</p> + +<p>"If you are not a man of the pen, you are a man of the heart," laughed +Fanfaro, as he quickly wrote a few lines on the paper.</p> + +<p>"Flatterer," scolded Girdel. "Forward, Bobichel; bring me the work-box; +the people will find out to-night that they will see something."</p> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[Pg 23]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IV" id="CHAPTER_IV"></a>CHAPTER IV</h2> + +<h3>BROTHER AND SISTER</h3> + +<p>Half an hour later the inhabitants of Sainte-Ame crowded about the open +place in front of the Golden Sun. They seldom had an opportunity of +seeing anything like this, for very few travelling shows ever visited +the small Lorraine village; and with almost childish joy the spectators +gazed at Bobichel, Fanfaro, and Girdel, who were engaged in erecting the +booth. The work went on briskly. The posts which had been run into the +ground were covered with many-colored cloths, and a hurriedly arranged +wooden roof protected the interior of the tent from the weather. Four +wooden stairs led to the right of the entrance, where the box-office +was; this latter was made of a primitive wooden table, on which was a +faded velvet cover embroidered with golden arabesques and cabalistic +signs. All the outer walls of the booth were covered with yellow bills, +upon which could be read that "Signor Firejaws" would lift with his +teeth red-hot irons of fabulous weight, swallow burning lead, and +perform the most startling acrobatic tricks. Rolla, the Cannon Queen, +would catch cannon balls shot from a gun, and do other tricks; at the +same time the bill said she would eat pigeons alive, and with their +feathers on. Caillette, the "daughter of the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[Pg 24]</a></span> air," as she was called, +would send the spectators into ecstasies by her performance on the tight +rope, and sing songs. Robeckal, the "descendant of the old Moorish +kings," would swallow swords, eat glass, shave kegs with his teeth; and +Fanfaro would perform on the trapeze, give his magic acts, and daze the +public with his extraordinary productions. A pyramid, formed of all the +members of the troupe, at the top of which Caillette shone with a rose +in her hand, stood at the bottom of the bills in red colors, and was +gazed upon by the peasants in open-mouthed wonder. The hammering which +went on in the interior of the booth sounded to them like music, and +they could hardly await the night, which was to bring them so many +magnificent things.</p> + +<p>Girdel walked up and down in a dignified way and the crowd respectfully +made way for him, while the giant, in stentorian tones, gave the orders +to Fanfaro and Bobichel.</p> + +<p>Bobichel's name was not on the bills; he was to surprise the public as a +clown, and therefore his name was never mentioned. He generally amused +the spectators in a comical way, and always made them laugh; even now, +when he had finished his work, he mingled with the peasants and +delighted them with his jokes.</p> + +<p>Fanfaro and Caillette were still engaged constructing the booth. The +young man arranged the wooden seats and the giant's daughter hung the +colored curtains, which covered the bare walls, putting here and there +artificial flowers on them. Sometimes Caillette would pause in her work, +to look at Fanfaro with her deep blue eyes.</p> + +<p>Fanfaro was now done with the seats and began to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[Pg 25]</a></span> fasten two trapezes. +They hung to a centre log by iron hooks, and were about twelve feet from +the ground and about as far distant from each other.</p> + +<p>Fanfaro lightly swung upon the centre log and hammered in the iron hooks +with powerful blows.</p> + +<p>The wonderfully fine-shaped body was seen to advantage in this position, +and a sculptor would have enthusiastically observed the classical +outlines of the young man, whose dark tights fitted him like a glove.</p> + +<p>Fanfaro's hands and feet were as small as those of a woman, but, as +Girdel had said, his muscles and veins were as hard as iron.</p> + +<p>The iron hooks were fast now, and the young man swung himself upon a +plank; he then glided down one trapeze, and with a quick movement +grasped the other.</p> + +<p>Like an arrow the slim body shot through the air, and then Fanfaro +sprung lightly to the ground, while the trapeze flew back.</p> + +<p>At the very moment the young man let go of the trapeze a faint scream +was heard, and Caillette, deadly pale, stood next to Fanfaro.</p> + +<p>"How you frightened me, you wicked fellow," said the young girl, drawing +a deep breath.</p> + +<p>"Were you really frightened, Caillette? I thought you would have got +used to my exercises long ago."</p> + +<p>"I ought to be so," pouted Caillette, pressing her hands to her +fast-beating heart, "but every time I see you fly, fear seizes hold of +me and I unconsciously cry aloud. Oh, Fanfaro, if an accident should +happen to you—I would not survive it."</p> + +<p>"Little sister, you are needlessly alarming yourself."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[Pg 26]</a></span></p><p>Caillette held down her pretty little head and the hot blood rushed to +her velvety cheeks, while her hands nervously clutched each other.</p> + +<p>"Caillette, what ails you?" asked Fanfaro.</p> + +<p>"Oh—tell me, Fanfaro, why do you always call me 'little sister'?"</p> + +<p>"Does the expression displease you, mademoiselle?" laughingly said the +young man; "is it the word 'little,' or the word 'sister'?"</p> + +<p>"I did not say the expression displeased me."</p> + +<p>"Should I call you my big sister?"</p> + +<p>"Why do you call me sister at all?"</p> + +<p>A cloud spread over the young man's face.</p> + +<p>"Did we not grow up together like brother and sister?" he asked; "you +were six years old when your father took the deserted boy to his home."</p> + +<p>"But you are not my brother," persisted Caillette.</p> + +<p>"Perhaps not in the sense commonly associated with the term, but yet I +love you like a brother. Doesn't this explanation please you?"</p> + +<p>"Yes and no. I wished—"</p> + +<p>"What would you wish?"</p> + +<p>"I had rather not say it," whispered Caillette, and hastily throwing her +arms about Fanfaro she kissed him heartily.</p> + +<p>Fanfaro did not return the kiss; on the contrary he turned away and +worked at the trapeze cord. He divined what was going on in Caillette, +as many words hastily spoken had told the young man that the young girl +loved him not as the sister loves the brother, but with a more +passionate love. Caillette was still unaware of it, but every day, every +hour could explain her <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[Pg 27]</a></span>feelings to her, and Fanfaro feared that moment, +for he—did not love her.</p> + +<p>How was this possible? He could hardly account for it himself. Caillette +was so charming, and yet he could not think of the lovely creature as +his wife; and as an honest man it did not enter his mind to deceive the +young girl as to his feelings.</p> + +<p>"Caillette," he said, now trying to appear cheerful, "we must hurry up +with our preparations, or the performance will begin before we are +done."</p> + +<p>Caillette nodded, and taking her artificial flowers again in her hand, +she began to separate them. At the same time the door opened and +Firejaws appeared in company with two ladies. Fanfaro and Caillette +glanced at the unexpected guests and heard the elderly lady say:</p> + +<p>"Irene, what new caprice is it that brings you here, and what will the +countess say if she hears of it?"</p> + +<p>"Madame Ursula, spare your curtain lectures," laughed the young lady; +"and if you cannot do so, you are free to return to the castle."</p> + +<p>"God forbid," exclaimed Madame Ursula in affright.</p> + +<p>She was a perfect type of the governess, with long thin features, +pointed nose, small lips, gray locks, and spectacles. She wore a hat +which fell to her neck, and a long colored shawl hung over her +shoulders.</p> + +<p>The appearance of the young lady compared very favorably with that of +the duenna. A dark-blue riding costume sat tightly on a magnificent +form; a brown velvet hat with a long white feather sat coquettishly on +her dark locks; fresh red lips, sparkling black eyes, a classically +formed nose, and finely curved lips completed<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[Pg 28]</a></span> her charming appearance. +The young lady appeared to be about eighteen or nineteen years old; a +proud smile hovered about her lips and the dark eyes looked curiously +about.</p> + +<p>Fanfaro and Caillette paused at their work, and now the young girl +exclaimed in a clear bell-like voice:</p> + +<p>"Monsieur Girdel, would it be possible for me to secure a few places for +this evening, that is, some that are hid from the rest of the +spectators?"</p> + +<p>"H'm—that would be difficult," said Girdel, looking about.</p> + +<p>"Of course I shall pay extra for the seats," continued the young lady.</p> + +<p>"We have only one price for the front rows," said Firejaws, simply; +"they cost twenty sous and the rear seats ten sous."</p> + +<p>The governess sighed sorrowfully; Irene took an elegant purse from her +pocket and pressed it in Girdel's hand.</p> + +<p>"Take the money," she said, "and do what I say."</p> + +<p>"I will try to get you the seats you desire, mademoiselle," he said +politely, "but only for the usual price. Fanfaro," he said, turning to +the young man, "can't we possibly fix up a box?"</p> + +<p>Fanfaro drew near, and the young lady with open wonder gazed at the +beautiful youth.</p> + +<p>"What's the trouble, Papa Girdel?" he said.</p> + +<p>Before the giant could speak Irene said:</p> + +<p>"I do not ask very much. I would like to look at the performance, but +naturally would not like to sit with the crowd. You know, peasants and +such common people—"</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[Pg 29]</a></span></p><p>"H'm!" growled Girdel.</p> + +<p>"It is impossible," said Fanfaro, coolly.</p> + +<p>"Impossible?" repeated the young lady in amazement.</p> + +<p>"But, Fanfaro," interrupted Girdel, "I should think we could do it. A +few boards, a carpet, and the thing is done."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps, but I shall not touch a finger to it."</p> + +<p>"You refuse?" exclaimed Irene. "Why, if I may ask?"</p> + +<p>"Bravo, Fanfaro!" whispered Caillette, softly.</p> + +<p>"Will you answer my question, monsieur—— I do not know your name?" +said Irene, impatiently.</p> + +<p>"I am called Fanfaro," remarked the young man.</p> + +<p>"Well then, Monsieur Fanfaro," began Irene, with a mocking laugh, "why +do you refuse to lend your master a helping hand?"</p> + +<p>"His master?" replied Girdel, with flaming eyes; "excuse me, +mademoiselle, but you have been incorrectly informed."</p> + +<p>"Come, Papa Girdel," laughed Fanfaro, "I will tell the young lady my +reasons, and I think you will approve of them. The public of 'peasants,' +and such 'common people,' who are so repulsive to you, mademoiselle, +that you do not desire to touch them with the seam of your dress, admire +us and provide us with our sustenance. The hands which applaud us are +coarse, I cannot deny it; but in spite of this, we regard their applause +just as highly as that given to us by people whose hands are incased in +fine kid gloves. To give you an especial box, mademoiselle, would be an +insult to the peasants, and why should we do such a thing? Am I right or +not?"</p> + +<p>While Fanfaro was speaking, Irene looked steadily at<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[Pg 30]</a></span> his handsome face. +The governess muttered something about impertinence. When the young man +looked up, Irene softly said:</p> + +<p>"That was a sharp lesson."</p> + +<p>"No; I merely told you my opinion."</p> + +<p>"Good. Now let me give you my answer; I will come this evening!"</p> + +<p>"I thought so," replied Fanfaro simply.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[Pg 31]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_V" id="CHAPTER_V"></a>CHAPTER V</h2> + +<h3>MASTER AND SERVANT</h3> + +<p>When the young lady and her governess left the booth and wended their +way along the country road, the peasants respectfully made way for them +and even Bobichel paused in his tricks. Irene held her little head +sidewise as she walked through the crowd, while the governess marched +with proudly uplifted head.</p> + +<p>"Thank God," said Madame Ursula, "there is the carriage."</p> + +<p>An elegant equipage came in sight, and a groom led a beautiful racer by +the bridle.</p> + +<p>"Step in, Madame Ursula," said Irene, laughing, as she vaulted into the +saddle.</p> + +<p>"But you promised me—"</p> + +<p>"To be at the castle the same time as you," added the young lady. "And I +shall keep my promise. Forward, Almanser!"</p> + +<p>The horse flew along like an arrow, and Madame Ursula, sighing, got into +the carriage, which started off in the same direction.</p> + +<p>"Who is the handsome lady?" asked Bobichel.</p> + +<p>"The richest heiress in Alsace and Lorraine, Mademoiselle de Salves," +was the answer.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[Pg 32]</a></span></p><p>"Ah, she suits me," said the clown.</p> + +<p>"Bah, she is as proud as a peacock," growled an old peasant.</p> + +<p>"It is all the same to me," said a second peasant; "she is going to be +married to a gentleman in Paris, and there she fits better."</p> + +<p>A heavy mail-coach, which halted at the Golden Sun, interrupted the +conversation. Mr. Schwan ran to the door to receive the travellers, and +at the same moment the man in the brown overcoat appeared at the +threshold of the door. Hardly had he seen the mail-coach than he hurried +to open the door, and in a cringing voice said:</p> + +<p>"Welcome, Monsieur le Marquis; my letter arrived, then, opportunely?"</p> + +<p>The occupant of the coach nodded, and leaning on the other's arm, he got +out. It was the Marquis of Fougereuse. He looked like a man prematurely +old, whose bent back and wrinkled features made him look like a man of +seventy, while in reality he was hardly fifty.</p> + +<p>In the marquis's company was a servant named Simon, who, in the course +of years, had advanced from the post of valet to that of steward.</p> + +<p>"What does the gentleman desire?" asked the host, politely.</p> + +<p>"Let the dinner be served in my room," ordered Simon; and, giving the +marquis a nod, he strode to the upper story in advance of him.</p> + +<p>The door which Simon opened showed an elegantly furnished room according +to Schwan's ideas, yet the marquis appeared to pay no attention to his +surroundings, for he<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[Pg 33]</a></span> hardly gazed around, and in a state of exhaustion +sank into a chair. Simon stood at the window and looked out, while the +host hurriedly set the table; when this was finished, Simon winked to +Schwan and softly said:</p> + +<p>"Leave the room now, and do not enter it until I call for you."</p> + +<p>"If the gentlemen wish anything—"</p> + +<p>"I know, I know," interrupted Simon, impatiently. "Listen to what I say. +You would do well to keep silent about the purpose of my master's visit +here. In case any one asks you, simply say you know nothing."</p> + +<p>"Neither I do," remarked Schwan.</p> + +<p>"So much the better, then you do not need to tell a lie; I advise you in +your own interest not to say anything."</p> + +<p>The host went away and growled on the stairs:</p> + +<p>"Confound big people and their servants. I prefer guests like Girdel and +his troupe."</p> + +<p>As soon as the door had closed behind Schwan, Simon approached the +marquis.</p> + +<p>"We are alone, master," he said timidly.</p> + +<p>"Then speak; have you discovered Pierre Labarre's residence?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, master."</p> + +<p>"But you have not gone to see him yet?"</p> + +<p>"No, I kept within your orders."</p> + +<p>"You were right. I must daze the old scoundrel through my sudden +appearance; I hope to get the secret from him."</p> + +<p>"Is everything better now, master?" asked Simon, after a pause.</p> + +<p>"Better? What are you thinking of?" exclaimed the marquis, angrily. +"Every one has conspired against me, and ruin is near at hand."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[Pg 34]</a></span></p><p>"But the protection of his majesty—"</p> + +<p>"Bah! the protection of the king is useless, if the cabinet hate me. +Besides, I have had the misfortune to anger Madame de Foucheres, and +since then everything has gone wrong."</p> + +<p>"The king cannot have forgotten what you did for him," said Simon.</p> + +<p>"A few weeks ago I was driven to the wall by my creditors, and I went to +the king and stated my case to him. Do you know what his answer was? +'Monsieur,' he said, earnestly, 'a Fougereuse should not demean himself +by begging,' and with that he gave me a draft for eighty thousand +francs! What are eighty thousand francs for a man in my position? A drop +of water on a hot stove."</p> + +<p>Simon nodded.</p> + +<p>"But the vicomte," he observed; "his majesty showers favors upon him—"</p> + +<p>"I am much obliged for the favors! Yes, my son is spoken of, but in what +a way! The vicomte gambles, the vicomte is always in a scrape, the +vicomte is the hero of the worst adventures—and kind friends never fail +to tell me all about it! I hope his marriage will put a stop to all this +business. Have you heard anything further of the De Salves ladies?"</p> + +<p>"Not much, but enough. The estate of the young heiress is the largest +for miles about, and she herself is a beauty of the first class."</p> + +<p>"So much the better. Think of it, four millions! Oh, if this should be +lost to us!"</p> + +<p>"That will hardly be the case, Monsieur le Marquis; the marriage has +been decided upon."</p> + +<p>"Certainly, certainly, but then—if the old countess<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[Pg 35]</a></span> should find out +about our pecuniary embarrassments all would be lost. But no, I will not +despair; Pierre Labarre must talk, and then—"</p> + +<p>"Suppose he won't? Old people are sometimes obstinate."</p> + +<p>"Have no fear, Simon, my methods have subdued many wills."</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes, you are right, sir," laughed Simon.</p> + +<p>"I can rely on you, then?"</p> + +<p>"Perfectly so, sir. If it were necessary I would pick it up with ten +Pierres!"</p> + +<p>"You will find me grateful," said the marquis. "If Pierre Labarre gives +the fortune to the Fougereuse and the vicomte becomes the husband of the +countess, we will be saved."</p> + +<p>"I know that you have brilliant prospects, my lord," replied Simon, "and +I hope to win your confidence. The last few weeks I had an opportunity +to do a favor to the family of my honored master."</p> + +<p>"Really? You arouse my curiosity."</p> + +<p>"My lord, Monsieur Franchet honored me with his confidence."</p> + +<p>The marquis looked in amazement at his steward; Franchet was the +superintendent of police. Recommended by the Duke of Montmorency, he was +an especial favorite of the Society of Jesus. The Jesuits had spun their +nets over the whole of France, and the secret orders emanated from the +Rue de Vaugirard. Franchet had the reins of the police department in his +hands, and used his power for the furtherance of the Jesuits' plans. The +amazement which seized the marquis when he heard that his steward was +the confidant of Franchet, was only natural; that<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[Pg 36]</a></span> Simon would make a +good spy, Fougereuse knew very well.</p> + +<p>"Go on," he softly said, when Simon paused.</p> + +<p>"Thanks to the superintendent's confidence in me," said Simon, "I am +able to secure a much more influential position at court for Monsieur le +Marquis than he has at present."</p> + +<p>"And how are you going to perform the miracle?" asked the marquis, +sceptically.</p> + +<p>"By allowing Monsieur le Marquis to take part in my projects for the +good of the monarchy."</p> + +<p>"Speak more clearly," ordered the marquis, briefly.</p> + +<p>"Directly."</p> + +<p>Simon went close to his master, and whispered:</p> + +<p>"There exists a dangerous conspiracy against the state. People wish to +overturn the government and depose the king."</p> + +<p>"Folly! that has been often desired."</p> + +<p>"But this time it is serious. A republican society—"</p> + +<p>"Do not speak to me about republicans!" exclaimed Fougereuse, angrily.</p> + +<p>"Let me finish, Monsieur le Marquis. My news is authentic. The attempt +will perhaps be made in a few weeks, and then it will be a question of +<i>sauve qui peut</i>! Through a wonderful chain of circumstances the plans +of the secret society came into my hands. I could go to the king now and +name him all the conspirators who threaten his life, but what would be +my reward? With a servant little ado is made. His information is taken, +its truth secretly looked into and he is given a small sum of money with +a letter saying that he must have been deceived. If the Marquis of +Fougereuse, on the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[Pg 37]</a></span> other hand, should come, he is immediately master of +the situation. The matter is investigated, the king calls him his +savior, and his fortune is made."</p> + +<p>The marquis sprung up in excitement.</p> + +<p>"And you are in a position to give me the plans of this society? You +know who the conspirators are?" he exclaimed, with sparkling eyes.</p> + +<p>"Yes, my lord."</p> + +<p>"You would allow me to reap the profit of your discovery?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, my lord; I am in the first place a faithful servant."</p> + +<p>"Simon, let us stop this talk with turned down cards. What do you wish +in return?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing, my lord; I depend upon your generosity."</p> + +<p>"You shall not have cause to regret it," said the marquis, drawing a +deep breath. "Should I succeed in securing an influential position at +court, you shall be the first to profit by it."</p> + +<p>"Thanks, my lord. I know I can count on your word. To come back to +Pierre Labarre, I think we should hunt him up as soon as possible."</p> + +<p>"I am ready; where does he live?"</p> + +<p>"At Vagney, about three hours distant."</p> + +<p>"It is now three o'clock," said the marquis, pulling out his watch. "If +we start now, we will be able to return to-night."</p> + +<p>"Then I shall order horses at once!"</p> + +<p>Simon went away, and the marquis remained behind thinking. No matter +where he looked, the past, present and future were alike blue to him.</p> + +<p>The old marquis had died in 1817, and the vicomte<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[Pg 38]</a></span> had immediately set +about to have the death of his brother, which had taken place at +Leigoutte in 1814, confirmed. Both the wife and the children of Jules +Fougere had disappeared since that catastrophe, and so the Vicomte of +Talizac, now Marquis of Fougereuse, claimed possession of his father's +estate.</p> + +<p>But, strange to say, the legacy was far less than the vicomte and +Madeleine had expected, and, as they both had contracted big debts on +the strength of it, nothing was left to them but to sell a portion of +the grounds.</p> + +<p>Had the marquis and his wife not lived so extravagantly they would not +have tumbled from one difficulty into the other, but the desire to cut a +figure in the Faubourg St. Germain consumed vast sums, and what the +parents left over, the son gambled away and dissipated.</p> + +<p>Petted and spoiled by his mother, the Vicomte de Talizac was a fast +youth before he had attained his fifteenth year. No greater pleasure +could be given his mother than to tell her, that her son was the leader +of the <i>jeunesse dorée</i>. He understood how to let the money fly, and +when the marquis, alarmed at his son's extravagance, reproached his +wife, the latter cut him short by saying:</p> + +<p>"Once for all, Jean, my son was not made to save; he is the heir of the +Fougereuse, and must keep up his position."</p> + +<p>"But in this way we shall soon be beggars," complained the marquis.</p> + +<p>"Is that my fault?" asked Madame Madeleine, sharply. "What good is it +that you—put your brother out of the way? His portion of the fortune is +kept<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[Pg 39]</a></span> from you, and if you do not force Pierre Labarre to speak you will +have to go without it."</p> + +<p>"Then you think Pierre Labarre knows where the major part of my father's +fortune is?" asked the marquis.</p> + +<p>"Certainly. He and no one else has it in safe keeping, and if you do not +hurry up, the old man might die, and we can look on."</p> + +<p>The marquis sighed. This was not the first time Madeleine provoked him +against Pierre Labarre, but the old man had disappeared since the death +of his master, and it required a long time before Simon, the worthy +assistant of the marquis, found out his residence.</p> + +<p>In the meantime the position of the Fougereuses was getting worse and +worse. At court murmurs were heard about swindling speculations with +which the marquis's name was connected, and the vicomte did his best to +drag the proud old name in the dust. A rescue was at hand, in a marriage +of the vicomte with the young Countess of Salves, but this rescue rested +on a weak footing, as a new escapade of "The Talizac Buckle," as the +heir of the Fougereuse was mockingly called, might destroy the planned +union.</p> + +<p>Talizac was the hero of all the scandals of Paris; he sought and found +his companions in very peculiar regions, and several duels he had fought +had made his name, if not celebrated, at least disreputable.</p> + +<p>This was the position of the marquis's affairs when Simon found Pierre +Labarre; the marquis was determined not to return to Paris without first +having settled the affair, and as Simon now returned to the room with +the host, his master exclaimed:</p> + +<p>"Are the horses ready?"</p> + +<p>"No, my lord; the Cure has overflowed in consequence<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[Pg 40]</a></span> of the heavy +rains, and the road from here to Vagney is impassable."</p> + +<p>"Can we not reach Vagney by any other way?"</p> + +<p>"No, my lord."</p> + +<p>"Bah! the peasants exaggerate the danger so as to get increased prices +for their services. Have you tried to get horses?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, my lord; but unfortunately no one in the village except the host +owns any."</p> + +<p>"Then buy the host's horses."</p> + +<p>"He refuses to give me the animals. An acrobat who came here this +morning, and who owns two horses, refused to sell them to me."</p> + +<p>"That looks almost like a conspiracy!" exclaimed the marquis.</p> + +<p>"I think so too, and if I am permitted an advice—"</p> + +<p>"Speak freely; what do you mean?"</p> + +<p>"That the best thing we can do is to start at once on foot. If we hurry, +we can reach Vagney this evening, and the rest will take care of +itself."</p> + +<p>"You are right," replied the marquis; "let us go."</p> + +<p>Schwan was frightened when he heard of their intention, but the marquis +remained determined, and the two were soon on the road.</p> + +<p>"If no accident happens," growled the host to himself, "the Cure is a +treacherous sheet of water; I wish they were already back again."</p> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[Pg 41]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VI" id="CHAPTER_VI"></a>CHAPTER VI</h2> + +<h3>THE PERFORMANCE</h3> + +<p>While the marquis and Simon were starting on their journey, Robeckal and +Rolla had met on the country road as appointed, and in a long whispered +conversation had made their plans. They both hated Girdel, Caillette, +Fanfaro and Bobichel, and their idea was to kill both Girdel and Fanfaro +that very evening. Caillette could be attended to afterward, and +Bobichel was of no importance. Rolla loved Robeckal, as far as it was +possible for a person like her to love any one, and desired to possess +him. Robeckal, on his side, thought it would not be a bad idea to +possess Girdel's business along with its stock, with which he +ungallantly reckoned Rolla and Caillette. Caillette especially he +admired, but he was smart enough not to say a word to Rolla.</p> + +<p>"Enter, ladies and gentlemen, enter," exclaimed Bobichel, as he stood at +the box-office and cordially greeted the crowds of people.</p> + +<p>"I wonder whether she will come?" muttered Caillette to herself.</p> + +<p>"Everything is ready," whispered Robeckal to Rolla; the Cannon Queen +nodded and threw dark scowls at Girdel and Fanfaro.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[Pg 42]</a></span></p><p>The quick gallop of a horse was now heard, and the next minute Irene de +Salves stepped into the booth.</p> + +<p>"Really, she has come," muttered Caillette in a daze, as she pressed her +hand to her heart and looked searchingly at Fanfaro.</p> + +<p>The latter looked neither to the right nor left. He was busy arranging +Girdel's weights and iron poles, and Caillette, calmed by the sight, +turned around.</p> + +<p>When Irene took her seat a murmur ran through the crowded house. The +Salves had always occupied an influential position in the country; the +great estate of the family insured them power and influence at court, +and they were closely attached to the monarchy.</p> + +<p>Irene's grandfather, the old Count of Salves, had been guillotined in +1793; his son had served under Napoleon, and was killed in Russia when +his daughter had hardly reached her third year. The count's loss struck +the countess to the heart; she retired to her castle in the neighborhood +of Remiremont and attended to the education of her child.</p> + +<p>Irene grew up, and when she often showed an obstinacy and wildness +strange in a girl, her mother would say, with tears in her eyes:</p> + +<p>"Thank God, she is the picture of her father."</p> + +<p>That nothing was done under the circumstances to curb Irene's +impetuosity is easily understood. Every caprice of the young heiress was +satisfied, and so it came about that the precocious child ruled the +castle. She thought with money anything could be done, and more than +once it happened that the young girl while hunting trod down the +peasants' fields, consoling herself with the thought:</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[Pg 43]</a></span></p><p>"Mamma gives these people money, and therefore it is all right."</p> + +<p>When Irene was about fifteen years old her mother became dangerously +ill, and remained several months in bed. She never recovered the use of +her limbs, and day after day she remained in her arm-chair, only living +in the sight of her daughter. When Irene entered the room the poor +mother thought the sun was rising, and she never grew tired of looking +in her daughter's clear eyes and listening to her silvery voice. The +most singular contradictions reigned in Irene's soul; she could have +cried bitterly one minute, and laughed aloud the next; for hours at a +time she would sit dreaming at the window, and look out at the autumnal +forest scenery, then spring up, hurry out, jump into the saddle and +bound over hill and valley. Sometimes she would chase a beggar from the +door, the next day overload him with presents; she spent nights at the +bedside of a sick village child, and carried an old woman at the risk of +her life, from a burning house; in short, she was an original.</p> + +<p>A few months before, the lawyer who administered the countess's fortune +had appeared at the castle and had locked himself up with her mother. +When he left the castle the next day, the young lady was informed that +she was to be married off, and received the news with the greatest +unconcern. She did not know her future husband, the Vicomte de Talizac, +but thought she would be able to get along with him. That she would have +to leave her castle and her woods displeased her; she had never had the +slightest longing for Paris, and the crowded streets of the capital were +intolerable to her; but seeing that it must be she did not complain.</p> + +<p>It was a wild caprice which had induced the young girl<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[Pg 44]</a></span> to attend +Girdel's performance; Fanfaro's lecture had angered her at first, but +later on, when she thought about it, she had to confess that he was +right. She was now looking expectantly at the young man, who was engaged +with Bobichel in lighting the few lamps, and when he drew near to her, +she whispered to him:</p> + +<p>"Monsieur Fanfaro, are you satisfied with me?"</p> + +<p>Fanfaro looked at her in amazement, but a cordial smile flew over his +lips, and Irene felt that she could stand many more insults if she could +see him smile oftener.</p> + +<p>Madame Ursula, who sat next to her pupil, moved up and down uneasily in +her chair. Irene did not possess the least <i>savoir vivre</i>. How could she +think of addressing the young acrobat? and now—no, it surpassed +everything—he bent over her and whispered a few words in her ear. The +governess saw Irene blush, then let her head fall and nod. What could he +have said to her?</p> + +<p>Caillette, too, had noticed the young lady address Fanfaro, and she +became violently jealous.</p> + +<p>What business had the rich heiress with the young man, whom she was +accustomed to look upon as her own property?</p> + +<p>For Caillette, as well as Madame Ursula, it was fortunate that they had +not heard Fanfaro's words, and yet it was only good advice which the +young man had given Irene.</p> + +<p>"Mademoiselle, try to secure the love of those who surround you," he had +earnestly said. And Irene had, at first impatiently and with +astonishment, finally guiltily, listened to him. Really, when she +thought with what indifference her coming and going in the village was +looked upon, and with what hesitation she was greeted, she began to +think<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[Pg 45]</a></span> Fanfaro was right; the young man had been gone long, and yet his +words still sounded in her ears. Yes, she would try to secure love.</p> + +<p>In the meantime the performance had begun. Girdel played with his +weights, Rolla swallowed stones and pigeons, Robeckal knives and swords, +and Caillette danced charmingly on the tight-rope. During all these +different productions, Fanfaro was continually assisting the performers; +he handed Girdel the weights and took them from him; he accompanied +Robeckal's sword exercise with hollow beats on a tambourine; he played +the violin while Caillette danced on the rope, and acted as Bobichel's +foil in his comic acts. Fanfaro himself was not to appear before the +second part; for the conclusion of the first part a climax was to be +given in which Girdel would perform a piece in which he had everywhere +appeared with thunders of applause; the necessary apparatus was being +prepared.</p> + +<p>This apparatus consisted of a plank supported by two logs which stood +upright in the centre of the circus. In the centre of the plank was a +windlass, from which hung an iron chain with a large hook.</p> + +<p>Fanfaro rolled an empty barrel under the plank and filled it with irons +and stones weighing about three thousand pounds. Thereupon the barrel +was nailed up and the chain wound about it; strong iron rings, through +which the chain was pulled, prevented it from slipping off.</p> + +<p>Girdel now walked up. He wore a costume made of black tights, and a +chin-band from which an iron hook hung. He bowed to the spectators, +seized the barrel with his chin hook and laid himself upon his back. +Fanfaro stood next to his foster-father, and from time to time<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[Pg 46]</a></span> blew a +blast with his trumpet. At every tone the heavy cask rose a few inches +in the air, and breathlessly the crowd looked at Girdel's performance. +The cask had now reached a height on a level with Girdel; the spectators +cheered, but suddenly an ominous breaking was heard, and while a cry of +horror ran through the crowd, Fanfaro, quick as thought, sprung upon the +cask and caught it in his arms.</p> + +<p>What had happened? Girdel lay motionless on the ground. Fanfaro let the +heavy cask glide gently to the floor and then stood pale as death near +the athlete. The chain had broken, and had it not been for Fanfaro's +timely assistance Girdel would have been crushed to pieces by the heavy +barrel.</p> + +<p>The violent shock had thrown Girdel some distance away. For a moment all +were too frightened to stir, but soon spectators from all parts of the +house came running up and loud cries were heard.</p> + +<p>Caillette had thrown herself sobbing at her father's feet; Bobichel and +Fanfaro busied themselves trying to raise the fallen man from the +ground, and Rolla uttered loud, roaring cries which no doubt were +intended to express her grief. Robeckal alone was not to be seen.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Fanfaro, is he dead?" sobbed Caillette.</p> + +<p>Fanfaro was silent and bent anxiously over Girdel; Rolla, on the other +hand, looked angrily at the young man and hissed in his ear:</p> + +<p>"Do not touch him. I will restore him myself."</p> + +<p>Instead of giving the virago an answer, Fanfaro looked sharply at her. +The wretched woman trembled and recoiled, while the young man, putting +his ear to Girdel's breast, exclaimed:</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[Pg 47]</a></span></p><p>"Thank God, he lives!"</p> + +<p>Caillette uttered a low moan and became unconscious; two soft hands were +laid tenderly on her shoulders, and when the tight-rope dancer opened +her eyes, she looked in Irene's face, who was bending anxiously over +her.</p> + +<p>Girdel still remained motionless; the young countess handed Fanfaro an +elegantly carved bottle filled with smelling-salts, but even this was of +no avail.</p> + +<p>"Wait, I know what will help him!" exclaimed Bobichel, suddenly, and +hurrying out he returned with a bottle of strong brandy.</p> + +<p>With the point of a knife Fanfaro opened Girdel's tightly compressed +lips; the clown poured a few drops of the liquid down his throat, and in +a few moments Girdel slowly opened his eyes and a deep sigh came from +his breast. When Bobichel put the bottle to his mouth again, he drank a +deep draught.</p> + +<p>"Hurrah, he is rescued!" exclaimed the clown, as he wiped the tears from +his eyes. He then walked to Rolla and mockingly whispered: "This time +you reckoned without your host."</p> + +<p>Rolla shuddered, and a look flew from Bobichel to Fanfaro.</p> + +<p>Robeckal now thought it proper to appear and come from behind a post. He +said in a whining voice:</p> + +<p>"Thank God that our brave master lives. I dreaded the worst."</p> + +<p>Schwan, who was crying like a child, threw a sharp look at Robeckal, and +Fanfaro now said:</p> + +<p>"Is there no physician in the neighborhood?"</p> + +<p>"No, there is no physician in Sainte-Ame, and Vagney is several miles +distant."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[Pg 48]</a></span></p><p>"No matter, I shall go to Vagney."</p> + +<p>"Impossible, the floods have destroyed all the roads; you risk your +life, Fanfaro," said Schwan.</p> + +<p>"And if that is so, I am only doing my duty," replied the young man. "I +owe it to my foster-father that I did not die of cold and starvation."</p> + +<p>"You are an honest fellow. Take one of my horses and ride around the +hill. It is certainly an out-of-the-way road, but it is safe. Do not +spare the horse; it is old, but when driven hard it still does its +duty."</p> + +<p>"Monsieur Fanfaro," said Irene, advancing, "take my riding horse; it +flies like the wind, and will carry you to Vagney in a short time."</p> + +<p>"She is foolish," complained Madame Ursula, while Fanfaro accepted +Irene's offer without hesitating; "the riding horse is an English +thoroughbred and cost two thousand francs."</p> + +<p>No one paid any attention to her. Fanfaro swung himself into the saddle, +and, throwing a cloak over his shoulders, he cordially said:</p> + +<p>"Mademoiselle, I thank you."</p> + +<p>"Don't mention it; I am following your advice," laughed Irene.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[Pg 49]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VII" id="CHAPTER_VII"></a>CHAPTER VII</h2> + +<h3>PIERRE LABARRE</h3> + +<p>The marquis and his steward had likewise hurried along the road to +Vagney. They were often forced to halt to find the right direction, as +the overflowing Cure had flooded the road at different points, but yet +they reached the hill on which the city rests before night.</p> + +<p>"The danger is behind us now," said Simon.</p> + +<p>A quarter of an hour later they stopped before a small solitary house. +Simon shook the knocker, and then they both waited impatiently to get +in.</p> + +<p>For a short time all was still, and Simon was about to strike again, +when a window was opened and a voice asked:</p> + +<p>"Who is there?"</p> + +<p>The two men exchanged quick glances; Pierre Labarre was at home, and, as +it seemed, alone.</p> + +<p>"I am the Marquis of Fougereuse," said the marquis, finally.</p> + +<p>No sooner had the words been spoken than the window was closed. The bolt +of the house door was shoved back in a few moments and a lean old man +appeared on the threshold.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[Pg 50]</a></span></p><p>Ten years had passed since Pierre Labarre rode alone through the Black +Forest, and saved himself from the bullet of the then Vicomte de Talizac +by his portfolio. Pierre's hair had grown gray now, but his eyes looked +as fearlessly on the world as if he had been thirty.</p> + +<p>"Come in, vicomte," said the old man, earnestly.</p> + +<p>The marquis and Simon followed Pierre into a small, plainly furnished +room; the only decoration was a black piece of mourning almost covering +one of the walls. While the old man turned up the small lamp, Simon, +without being noticed, closed the door. Pierre pointed to a straw chair +and calmly said:</p> + +<p>"Monsieur le Vicomte, will you please take a seat?"</p> + +<p>The marquis angrily said:</p> + +<p>"Pierre Labarre, it surprises me that in the nine years which have +passed since the death of my father, the Marquis of Fougereuse, you +should have forgotten what a servant's duties are! Since seven years I +bear the title of my father; why do you persist in calling me Monsieur +le Vicomte?"</p> + +<p>Pierre Labarre stroked the white hair from his forehead with his long +bony hand and slowly said:</p> + +<p>"I know only one Marquis of Fougereuse."</p> + +<p>"And who should bear this title if not I?" cried the marquis, angrily.</p> + +<p>"The son of the man who was murdered at Leigoutte in the year 1805," +replied Pierre.</p> + +<p>"Murdered?" exclaimed the marquis, mockingly: "that man fell fighting +against the legitimate masters of the country."</p> + +<p>"Your brother, Monsieur le Vicomte, was the victim<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[Pg 51]</a></span> of a well-laid plan; +those persons who were interested in his death made their preparations +with wonderful foresight."</p> + +<p>The marquis frothed with anger, and it did not require very much more +until he would have had the old man by the throat. He restrained +himself, though; what good would it do him if he strangled Pierre before +he knew the secret?</p> + +<p>"Let us not discuss that matter," he hastily said; "other matters have +brought me here—"</p> + +<p>As Pierre remained silent, the marquis continued:</p> + +<p>"I know perfectly well that that affair disturbed you. As the old +servitor of my father you naturally were attached to the dead man. Yet, +who could avert the catastrophe? The father, the mother and the two +children were all slain at the same hour by the Cossacks, and—"</p> + +<p>"You are mistaken, vicomte," interrupted Pierre, sharply; "the father +fell in a struggle with paid assassins, the mother was burned to death, +but the children escaped."</p> + +<p>"You are fooling, old man," exclaimed the marquis, growing pale; +"Jules's two children are dead."</p> + +<p>The old man crossed his arms over his breast, and, looking steadily at +the marquis, he firmly said:</p> + +<p>"Monsieur le Vicomte, the children live."</p> + +<p>The marquis could no longer restrain himself.</p> + +<p>"You know where they are?" he excitedly exclaimed.</p> + +<p>"No, vicomte, but it cheers me to hear from your words that you yourself +do not believe the children are dead."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[Pg 52]</a></span></p><p>The marquis bit his lips. He had betrayed himself. Simon shrugged his +shoulders and thought in his heart that the marquis was not the proper +person to intrust with diplomatic missions for the Society of Jesus.</p> + +<p>"Monsieur le Marquis," he hurriedly said, "what is the use of these long +discussions? Put the question which concerns you most to the obstinate +old man, and if he does not answer, I will make him speak."</p> + +<p>"You are right," nodded the marquis; and turning to Pierre again he +threateningly said:</p> + +<p>"Listen, Pierre Labarre; I will tell you the object of my visit. It is a +question of the honor of the Fougereuse."</p> + +<p>A sarcastic laugh played about the old man's lips, and half muttering to +himself, he repeated:</p> + +<p>"The honor of the Fougereuse—I am really curious to know what I shall +hear."</p> + +<p>The marquis trembled, and, casting a timid look at Simon, he said:</p> + +<p>"Simon, leave us to ourselves."</p> + +<p>"What, Monsieur le Marquis?" asked Simon in amazement.</p> + +<p>"You should leave us alone," repeated the marquis, adding in a whisper: +"Go, I have my reasons."</p> + +<p>"But, Monsieur le Marquis!"</p> + +<p>"Do not say anything; go!"</p> + +<p>Simon went growlingly away, and opening the door he had so carefully +locked, he strode into the hall; taking care, however, to overhear the +conversation.</p> + +<p>As soon as the nobleman was alone with Pierre, his demeanor changed. He +approached close to the old man, took his hand and cordially shook it. +Pierre looked at<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[Pg 53]</a></span> the marquis in amazement, and quickly withdrawing his +hand, he dryly said:</p> + +<p>"To business, vicomte."</p> + +<p>"Pierre," the marquis began, in a voice he tried to render as soft and +moving as possible, "you were the confidant of my father; you knew all +his secrets, and were aware that he did not love me. Do not interrupt +me—I know my conduct was not such as he had a right to expect from a +son. Pierre, I was not wicked, I was weak and could not withstand any +temptation, and my father often had cause to be dissatisfied with me. +Pierre, what I am telling you no human ear has ever heard; I look upon +you as my father confessor and implore you not to judge too harshly."</p> + +<p>Pierre held his eyes down, and even the marquis paused—he did not look +up.</p> + +<p>"Pierre, have you no mercy?" exclaimed the nobleman, in a trembling +voice.</p> + +<p>"Speak further, my lord," said Pierre; "I am listening."</p> + +<p>The marquis felt like stamping with his foot. He saw, however, that he +had to control himself.</p> + +<p>"If you let me implore hopelessly to-day, Pierre," he whispered, +gritting his teeth, "the name of Fougereuse will be eternally +dishonored."</p> + +<p>"The name of Fougereuse?" asked Pierre, with faint malice; "thank God, +my lord, that it is not in your power to stain it; you are only the +Vicomte de Talizac."</p> + +<p>The marquis stamped his foot angrily when he heard the old man's cutting +words; it almost surpassed his strength to continue the conversation to +an end, and yet it must be if he wished to gain his point.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[Pg 54]</a></span></p><p>"I see, I must explain myself more clearly," he said after a pause. +"Pierre, I am standing on the brink of a precipice. My fortune and my +influence are gone; neither my wife nor my son imagines how I am +situated, but if help does not come soon—"</p> + +<p>"Well, what will happen?" asked Pierre, indifferently.</p> + +<p>"Then I will not be able to keep my coat of arms, which dates from the +Crusades, clean and spotless."</p> + +<p>"I do not understand you, vicomte. Is it only a question of your +fortune?"</p> + +<p>"No, Pierre, it is a question of the honor of the Fougereuse. Oh, God! +You do not desire to understand me; you want me to disclose my shame. +Listen then," continued the marquis, placing his lips to the old man's +ears: "to rescue myself from going under, I committed an act of despair, +and if assistance does not come to me, the name of the Fougereuse will +be exposed to the world, with the brand of the forger upon it."</p> + +<p>The old man's face showed no traces of surprise. He kept silent for a +moment, and then asked in cold tones:</p> + +<p>"Monsieur le Vicomte, what do you wish of me?"</p> + +<p>"I will tell you," said the marquis, hastily, while a gleam of hope +strayed over his pale face; "I know that my father, to have the major +part of his fortune go to his eldest son, made a will and gave it to +you—"</p> + +<p>"Go on," said Pierre, as the marquis paused.</p> + +<p>"The will contains many clauses," continued the nobleman. "My father hid +a portion of his wealth, and in his last will named the spot where it +lies buried, providing that it should be given to his eldest son or<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[Pg 55]</a></span> his +descendants! Pierre, Jules is dead, his children have disappeared, and +therefore nothing hinders you from giving up this wealth. It must be at +least two millions. Can you hesitate to give me the money which will +save the name of Fougereuse from shame and exposure?"</p> + +<p>The marquis hesitated; Pierre rose slowly and, turning to a side wall, +grasped the mourning cloth and shoved it aside.</p> + +<p>The nobleman wonderingly observed the old man, who now took a lamp and +solemnly said:</p> + +<p>"Vicomte, look here!"</p> + +<p>The marquis approached the wall, and in the dim light of the lamp he saw +a tavern sign, upon which a few letters could be seen. The sign had +evidently been burned.</p> + +<p>"Monsieur le Vicomte, do you know what that is?" asked Pierre, +threateningly.</p> + +<p>"No," replied the marquis.</p> + +<p>"Then I will tell you, vicomte," replied Pierre. "The inscription on +this sign once read, 'To the Welfare of France.' Do you still wish me to +give you the will and the fortune?"</p> + +<p>"I do not understand you," stammered the nobleman, in a trembling voice.</p> + +<p>"Really, vicomte, you have a short memory, but I, the old servant of +your father, am able to refresh it! This sign hung over the door of the +tavern at Leigoutte; your brother, the rightful heir of Fougereuse, was +the landlord and the bravest man for miles around. In the year 1805 +Jules Fougere, as he called himself, fell. The world said Cossacks had +murdered him. I, though, vicomte, I cry it aloud in your ear—his +murderer was—you!"</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[Pg 56]</a></span></p><p>"Silence, miserable lackey!" exclaimed the marquis, enraged, "you lie!"</p> + +<p>"No, Cain, the miserable lackey does not lie," replied Pierre, calmly; +"he even knows more! In the year 1807 the old Marquis of Fougereuse +died; in his last hours his son, the Vicomte of Talizac, sneaked into +the chamber of death and, sinking on his knees beside the bedside of the +dying man, implored his father to make him his sole heir. The marquis +hardly had strength enough to breathe, but his eyes looked threateningly +at the scoundrel who dared to imbitter his last hours, and with his last +gasp he hurled at the kneeling man these words: 'May you be eternally +damned, miserable fratricide!'</p> + +<p>"The vicomte, as if pursued by the furies, escaped; the dying man gave +one more gasp and then passed away, and I, who was behind the curtains, +a witness of this terrible scene—I shall so far forget myself as to +deliver to the man who did not spare his father the inheritance of his +brother? No, vicomte, Pierre Labarre knows his duty, and if to-morrow +the name of the Fougereuse should be trampled in the dust and the +present bearer of the name be placed in the pillory as a forger and +swindler, then I will stand up and say:</p> + +<p>"'He is not a Fougereuse, he is only a Talizac. He murdered the heir, +and let no honest man ever touch his blood-stained hand!' Get out of +here, Vicomte Talizac, my house has no room for murderers!"</p> + +<p>Pale as death, with quaking knees, the marquis leaned against the wall. +When Pierre was silent he hissed in a low voice:</p> + +<p>"Then you refuse to help me?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, a thousand times, yes."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[Pg 57]</a></span></p><p>"You persist in keeping the fortune of the Fougereuse for Jules's son, +who has been dead a long time?"</p> + +<p>"I keep the fortune for the living."</p> + +<p>"And if he were dead, nevertheless?"</p> + +<p>Pierre suddenly looked up—suppose the murderer were to prove his +assertion?</p> + +<p>"Would you, if Jules's son were really dead, acknowledge me as the +heir?"</p> + +<p>"I cannot tell."</p> + +<p>"For the last time, will you speak?"</p> + +<p>"No; the will and fortune belong to the Marquis of Fougereuse, Jules's +son."</p> + +<p>"Enough; the will is here in your house; the rest will take care of +itself."</p> + +<p>Hereupon the marquis gave a penetrating whistle, and when Simon appeared +his master said to him:</p> + +<p>"Take hold of this scoundrel!"</p> + +<p>"Bravo! force is the only thing," cried Simon, as he rushed upon the old +man. But he had reckoned without his host; with a shove Pierre Labarre +threw the audacious rascal to the ground, and the next minute the heavy +old table lay between him and his enemies. Thereupon the old man took a +pistol from the wall, and, cocking the trigger, cried:</p> + +<p>"Vicomte Talizac, we still have an old score to settle! Years ago you +attempted to kill me in the Black Forest; take care you do not arouse my +anger again."</p> + +<p>The vicomte, who had no weapon, recoiled: Simon, however, seized a +pocket-pistol from his breast, and mockingly replied: "Oh, two can play +at that game!"</p> + +<p>He pressed his hand to the trigger, but Pierre Labarre put his pistol +down, and contemptuously said:</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[Pg 58]</a></span></p><p>"Bah! for the lackey the dog will do. Catch him, Sultan!"</p> + +<p>As he said these words he opened a side door; a large Vosges dog, whose +glowing eyes and crispy hair made him look like a wolf, sprang upon +Simon, and, clutching him by the throat, threw him to the ground.</p> + +<p>"Help, my lord marquis!" cried the steward.</p> + +<p>"Let go, Sultan," commanded Pierre.</p> + +<p>The dog shook his opponent once more and then let him loose.</p> + +<p>"Get out of here, miscreants!" exclaimed Pierre now, with threatening +voice, as he opened the door, "and never dare to come into my house +again."</p> + +<p>The wretches ran as if pursued by the Furies. Pierre caressed the dog +and then laughed softly; he was rid of his guests.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[Pg 59]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VIII" id="CHAPTER_VIII"></a>CHAPTER VIII</h2> + +<h3>A MEETING</h3> + +<p>Fanfaro had urged Irene's horse on at great speed, and while it flew +along like a bird, the most stormy feelings raged in his heart.</p> + +<p>The gaze of the pretty girl haunted him; he heard her gentle voice and +tried in vain to shake off these thoughts. What was he, that he should +indulge in such wild fancies? A foundling, the adopted son of an +acrobat, who had picked him up upon the way, and yet—</p> + +<p>Further and further horse and rider flew; before Fanfaro's eyes stood +Girdel's pale, motionless face, and he thought he could hear Caillette's +bitter sobs. No, he must bring help or else go under, and ceaselessly, +like lightning, he pushed on toward the city.</p> + +<p>The marquis and Simon ran breathlessly along. Their only thought was to +get far from the neighborhood of the old man and his wolf-hound. Neither +of the two spoke a word. The stormy, roaring Cure was forgotten, the +danger to life was forgotten; on, on they went, like deer pursued by a +pack of bloodthirsty hounds, and neither of them paid any attention to +the ominous noise of the overflowing mountain streams.</p> + +<p>Suddenly Simon paused and seized the marquis's arm.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[Pg 60]</a></span></p><p>"Listen," he whispered, tremblingly, "what is that?"</p> + +<p>A thunderous noise, ceaseless, rolling, and crashing, reached their ears +from all sides; from all sides frothy, bubbling masses of water dashed +themselves against the rocks, and now—now an immense rock fell crashing +in the flood, which overflowed into the wide plain like a storm-whipped +sea.</p> + +<p>Despair seized the men; before, behind, and around them roared and +foamed the turbulent waters; they turned to the right, where a huge +rock, which still projected above the waves, assured them safety, but +just then the marquis struck his foot against a stone—he tumbled and +fell with a half-smothered cry for help, "Help—I am sinking!" into the +dark depths.</p> + +<p>Simon did not think of lending his master a helping hand; he sprang from +rock to rock, from stone to stone, and soon reached a high point which +protected him from the oncoming waters.</p> + +<p>The marquis had been borne a short distance along by the raging waters, +until he succeeded in clambering upon a branch of an evergreen tree. The +flood still rolled along above his body, but with superhuman strength he +managed to keep his head above water and despairingly cry, "Help, Simon! +Rescue me!"</p> + +<p>Suddenly it seemed to the half-unconscious man as if he heard a human +voice calling to him from above:</p> + +<p>"Courage—keep up."</p> + +<p>With the remainder of his strength the marquis gazed in the direction +from which it came, and recognized a human form which seemed to be +hanging in the air.</p> + +<p>"Attention, I will soon be with you," cried the voice, now coming +nearer.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[Pg 61]</a></span></p><p>The marquis saw the form spring, climb, and then the water spurted up +and the marquis lost consciousness.</p> + +<p>Fanfaro, for naturally he was the rescuer, who appeared at the hour of +the greatest need, now stood up to his knees in water, and had just +stretched his hand out toward the marquis, when the latter, with a +groan, let go of the tree branch, and the next minute he was borne along +by the turbulent waters.</p> + +<p>Fanfaro uttered a slight cry, but he did not hesitate a moment. Plunging +into the seething waves, he parted them with muscular strokes, and +succeeded in grasping the drowning man. Throwing his left arm about him, +he swam to the rocky projection upon which the evergreen tree stood. +Inch by inch he climbed toward the pathway which was upon the top of the +hill. Perspiration dripped from his forehead, and his wind threatened to +give out, but Fanfaro went on, and finally stood on top. Putting the +marquis softly on the ground, Fanfaro took out a small pocket-lantern +which he always carried with him. With great trouble he lighted the wet +wick, and then let the rays fall full on the pale face of the motionless +man. Seized by an indescribable emotion, the young man leaned over the +marquis. Did he suspect that the man whom he had rescued from the stormy +waters, at the risk of his life, was the brother of the man who had +taken mercy on the helpless orphan, and was at the same time his father? +The marquis now opened his eyes, heaved a deep sigh, and looked wildly +around him.</p> + +<p>"Where am I?" he faintly stammered. "The water—ah!"</p> + +<p>"You are saved," said Fanfaro, gently.</p> + +<p>The sound of the voice caused all the blood to rush to the marquis's +heart.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[Pg 62]</a></span></p><p>"Did you save me?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"Who are you?"</p> + +<p>"My name is Fanfaro, and I am a member of Girdel's troupe, which is at +present in Sainte-Ame. Can you raise yourself?"</p> + +<p>With the young man's assistance, the marquis raised himself up, but +uttered a cry of pain when he put his feet on the ground.</p> + +<p>"Are you wounded?" asked Fanfaro, anxiously.</p> + +<p>"No, I do not think so; the water knocked me against trees and stones, +and my limbs hurt me from that."</p> + +<p>"That will soon pass away. Now put your arm about my neck and trust +yourself to me; I will bring you to a place of safety."</p> + +<p>The marquis put his arms tightly about the young man's neck, and the +latter strode along the narrow pathway which led to the heights.</p> + +<p>Soon the road became broader, the neighing of a horse was heard, and +drawing a deep breath the young man stood still.</p> + +<p>"Now we are safe," he said, consolingly; "I will take you on the back of +my horse, and in less than a quarter of an hour we will be in +Sainte-Ame. I rode from there to Vagney, to get a physician for my +foster-father, Girdel, who injured himself, but unfortunately he was not +at home, and so I had to return alone. Get up, the road is straight +ahead, and the mountains now lie between us and the water."</p> + +<p>In the meantime Fanfaro had helped the marquis on the back of the horse, +and now he raised his lantern to untie the knot of the rope with which +he had bound the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[Pg 63]</a></span> animal to a tree. The light of the lamp fell full upon +his face, and the marquis uttered a slight cry; his rescuer resembled in +a startling way the old Marquis of Fougereuse.</p> + +<p>Had he Jules's son before him?</p> + +<p>A satanic idea flashed through the brain of the noble rogue, and when +Fanfaro, after putting out his lantern, attempted to get on the horse's +back, the marquis pressed heavily against the horse's flank and they +were both off like the wind in the direction of the village.</p> + +<p>Fanfaro, who only thought that the horse had run away with the marquis, +cried in vain to the rider, and so he had to foot the distance, +muttering as he went:</p> + +<p>"If the poor fellow only doesn't get hurt; he is still feeble, and the +horse needs a competent rider."</p> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[Pg 64]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IX" id="CHAPTER_IX"></a>CHAPTER IX</h2> + +<h3>THE GRATITUDE OF A NOBLEMAN</h3> + +<p>Fanfaro was hardly a hundred feet away from Sainte-Ame, when Girdel +opened his eyes and looked about him.</p> + +<p>"What, my little Caillette is weeping!" he muttered, half-laughing. +"Child, you probably thought I was dead?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, God be praised and thanked!" cried Caillette, springing up and +falling upon her father's neck.</p> + +<p>Bobichel almost sprung to the ceiling, and Schwan, between laughing and +crying, exclaimed:</p> + +<p>"What a fright you gave us, old boy. The poor fellow rode away in the +night to get a physician, and—"</p> + +<p>"A physician? For me?" laughed Girdel. "Thank God, we are not so far +gone."</p> + +<p>"But you were unconscious more than half an hour; we became frightened, +and Fanfaro rode to Vagney."</p> + +<p>"He rode? On our old mare, perhaps? If he only returns," said Girdel, +anxiously. "The water must be dangerous about Vagney."</p> + +<p>"He has a good horse; the Countess of Salves gave Fanfaro her +thoroughbred," said Bobichel.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[Pg 65]</a></span></p><p>"Ah! that is different. Now, children, let me alone. Cousin Schwan, +send me the two men whom I am to bring to Remiremont to-morrow; I must +speak to them."</p> + +<p>Caillette, Bobichel, Schwan and Rolla went away. In the dark corridor a +figure passed by Rolla, and a hoarse voice said:</p> + +<p>"Well?"</p> + +<p>"All for nothing," growled Rolla; "he lives, and is as healthy as a fish +in the water."</p> + +<p>"You don't say so," hissed Robeckal.</p> + +<p>"It was your own fault," continued the virago. "A good stab in the right +place, and all is over; but you have no courage."</p> + +<p>"Silence, woman!" growled Robeckal. "I have attended to that in another +way; he shall not trouble us long. Tell me, does he ever receive any +letters?"</p> + +<p>"A great pile," said Rolla.</p> + +<p>"And you cannot tell me their contents?"</p> + +<p>"No; I never read them."</p> + +<p>This discretion had good grounds. Rolla could not read, but she did not +wish to admit it to him. Whether Robeckal suspected how things were, we +do not know; anyhow, he did not pursue the subject any further, but +said:</p> + +<p>"Schwan brought two men to Girdel a little while ago; come with me to +the upper story; we can listen at the door there and find out what they +say."</p> + +<p>When Robeckal and Rolla, after listening nearly two hours, slipped +downstairs they had heard all that Girdel and the two gentlemen had +said. They knew Fanfaro had been deputed to take important papers to +Paris and give them to a certain person who had been designated;<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[Pg 66]</a></span> Girdel +had guaranteed that Fanfaro would fill the mission promptly.</p> + +<p>When Robeckal returned to the inn, Simon rushed in pale and trembling. +He could hardly reply to the landlord's hurried questions; the words, +"In the water—the flood—dead—my poor master!" came from his trembling +lips, and immediately afterward he sank to the floor unconscious.</p> + +<p>While Schwan was busy with him, the sound of a horse's hoofs was heard.</p> + +<p>"Thank God, here comes Fanfaro!" exclaimed Bobichel and Caillette, +simultaneously, and they both rushed to the door.</p> + +<p>Who can describe their astonishment when they saw the marquis, dripping +with water and half frozen, get down from the horse and enter the room?</p> + +<p>"Where is Fanfaro?" asked Bobichel, anxiously.</p> + +<p>"He will soon be here," replied the marquis; "the horse ran away with +me, and I could not hold him."</p> + +<p>"Then the brave fellow is not injured?" asked Schwan, vivaciously.</p> + +<p>"God forbid; quick, give me a glass of brandy and lead me to Girdel; I +must speak to him at once."</p> + +<p>While the host went to get the brandy, Simon and the marquis exchanged +looks; the next minute Schwan returned and the nobleman drank a large +glass of brandy at a gulp.</p> + +<p>"Ah, that warms," he said, smacking his lips, "and now let us look for +Girdel."</p> + +<p>As soon as the marquis left the room, Robeckal drew near to the steward +and whispered:</p> + +<p>"Follow me, I must speak to you."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[Pg 67]</a></span></p><p>They both went into the hall and held a conversation in low tones.</p> + +<p>Suddenly a cry of joy reached their ears, and the next minute they saw +Bobichel, who, in his anxiety about Fanfaro, had hurried along the road, +enter the house with the young man.</p> + +<p>"There he is," whispered Robeckal, "God knows how it is, but neither +fire nor water seems to have the slightest effect on him."</p> + +<p>"We will get rid of him, never fear," said Simon, wickedly.</p> + +<p>From the upper story loud cries were heard. Rolla danced with a brandy +bottle in her hand, and Girdel was asking himself how he ever could have +made such a low woman his wife.</p> + +<p>A knock was now heard on his door; Girdel cried, "Come in," in powerful +tones, and a man, a stranger to him, crossed the threshold.</p> + +<p>"Have I the honor of addressing Monsieur Girdel?" the stranger politely +asked.</p> + +<p>"At your service; that is my name."</p> + +<p>"I am the Marquis of Fougereuse, and would like to have an interview +with you."</p> + +<p>"Take a seat, my lord marquis, and speak," said Girdel, looking +expectantly at his visitor.</p> + +<p>"I will not delay you long, Monsieur Girdel," the marquis began; "I know +you have met with a misfortune—"</p> + +<p>"Oh, it was not serious," said the athlete.</p> + +<p>"Monsieur Girdel," continued the nobleman, "about one hour ago I was in +peril of my life, and one of your men rescued me at the risk of his."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[Pg 68]</a></span></p><p>"You don't say so? How did it happen?" cried Girdel.</p> + +<p>"I was in danger of drowning in the Cure; a young man seized me from out +of the turbulent waters and carried me in his arms to a place of +safety."</p> + +<p>"Ah, I understand, the young man of whom you spoke—"</p> + +<p>"Was your son, Fanfaro!"</p> + +<p>"I thought so," said the athlete; "if Fanfaro is alone only one second, +he generally finds time to save somebody. Where is the boy now?"</p> + +<p>"He will be here soon. He asked me to get on the back of the horse with +him. I got up first, and hardly had the fiery steed felt some one on his +back than he flew away like an arrow. I was too feeble to check the +horse, and so my rescuer was forced to follow on foot."</p> + +<p>"Fanfaro doesn't care for that; he walks miles at a time without getting +tired, and in less than fifteen minutes he will be here."</p> + +<p>"Then it is the right time for me to ask you a few questions which I do +not wish him to hear. You are probably aware what my position at court +is?"</p> + +<p>"Candidly, no; the atmosphere of the court has never agreed with me."</p> + +<p>"Then let me tell you that my position is a very influential one, and +consequently it would be easy for me to do something for you and +your—son."</p> + +<p>The marquis pronounced the word "son" in a peculiar way, but Girdel +shook his head.</p> + +<p>"I wish Fanfaro was my son," he sighed; "I know of no better luck."</p> + +<p>"If the young man is not your son," said the marquis,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[Pg 69]</a></span> "then he would +need my assistance the more. His parents are, perhaps, poor people, and +my fortune—"</p> + +<p>"Fanfaro has no parents any more, my lord marquis."</p> + +<p>"Poor young man!" said the nobleman, pityingly; "but what am I saying?" +he interrupted himself with well-played anger. "Fanfaro has no doubt +found a second father in you; I would like to wager that you were a +friend of his parents, and have bestowed your friendship upon the son."</p> + +<p>"You are mistaken, my lord; I found Fanfaro on the road."</p> + +<p>"Impossible! What singular things one hears! Where did you find the +boy?"</p> + +<p>"Ah! that is an old story, but if it interests you I will relate it to +you: One cold winter day, I rode with my wagon—in which was, besides my +stock, my family and some members of my troupe—over a snow-covered +plain in the Vosges, when I suddenly heard loud trumpet tones. At first +I did not pay any attention to them. It was in the year 1814, and such +things were not uncommon then. However, the tones were repeated, and I +hurried in the direction from whence they proceeded. I shall never +forget the sight which met me. A boy about ten years of age lay +unconscious over a dead trumpeter, and his small hands were nervously +clutched about the trumpet. It was plain that he had blown the notes I +had heard and then fallen to the ground in a faint. I took the poor +little fellow in my arms; all around lay the bodies of many French +soldiers, and the terrors of the neighborhood had no doubt been too much +for the little rogue. We covered him in the wagon with warm cloaks,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[Pg 70]</a></span> and +because the poor fellow had blown such fanfares upon the trumpet, we had +called him Fanfaro."</p> + +<p>"Didn't he have any name?" asked the marquis, nervously.</p> + +<p>"That, my dear sir, wasn't so easy to find out. Hardly had we taken the +boy to us than he got the brain-fever, and for weeks lay on the brink of +the grave. When he at length recovered, he had lost his memory entirely, +and only after months did he regain it. At last he could remember the +name of the village where he had formerly lived—"</p> + +<p>"What was the name of this village?" interrupted the marquis, hurriedly.</p> + +<p>"Leigoutte, my lord."</p> + +<p>The nobleman had almost uttered a cry, but he restrained himself in +time, and Girdel did not notice his guest's terrible excitement.</p> + +<p>"His name, too, and those of his parents and sister, we found out after +a time," continued Girdel; "his father's name was Jules, his mother's +Louise, his sister's Louison, and his own Jacques. On the strength of +his information I went to Leigoutte, but found out very little. The +village had been set on fire by the Cossacks and destroyed. Of the +inhabitants only a few women and children had been rescued, and the only +positive thing I heard was that Jacques's mother had been burned to +death in a neighboring farmhouse. The men of Leigoutte had made a stand +against the Cossacks, but had been fairly blown into the air by them. I +returned home dissatisfied. Fanfaro remained with us; he learned our +tricks, and we love him very much. Where he managed to procure the +knowledge he has is a riddle to me; he never went<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[Pg 71]</a></span> to a regular school, +and yet he knows a great deal. He is a genius, my lord marquis, and a +treasure for our troupe."</p> + +<p>Cold drops of perspiration stood on the nobleman's forehead. No, there +was no longer any doubt: Fanfaro was his brother's son!</p> + +<p>"Have you never been able to find out his family name?" he asked, after +a pause.</p> + +<p>"No; the Cossacks set fire to the City Hall at Weissenbach and all the +records there were destroyed. An old shepherd said he had once been told +that Jules was the scion of an old noble family. Anything positive on +this point, I could not find out—I—"</p> + +<p>At this point the door was hastily opened and Fanfaro entered. He rushed +upon Girdel and enthusiastically cried:</p> + +<p>"Thank God, Papa Girdel, that you are well again."</p> + +<p>"You rascal, you," laughed Girdel, looking proudly at the young man. +"You have found time again to rescue some one."</p> + +<p>"Monsieur Fanfaro," said the marquis now, "permit me once more to thank +you for what you have done for me. I can never repay you."</p> + +<p>"Don't mention it, sir," replied Fanfaro, modestly, "I have only done my +duty."</p> + +<p>"Well I hope if you should ever need me you will let me know. The +Marquis of Fougereuse is grateful."</p> + +<p>When the marquis went downstairs shortly afterward, he found Simon +awaiting him.</p> + +<p>"Simon," he said, hurriedly, "do you know who Fanfaro is?"</p> + +<p>"No, my lord."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[Pg 72]</a></span></p><p>"He is the son of my brother, Jules de Fougereuse."</p> + +<p>"Really?" exclaimed Simon, joyfully, "that would be splendid."</p> + +<p>"Listen to my plan; the young man must die, but under such circumstances +as to have his identity proved, so that Pierre Labarre can be forced to +break his silence. You understand me, Simon?"</p> + +<p>"Perfectly so, my lord; and I can tell you now that I already know the +means and way to do the job. A little while ago a man, whom I can trust, +informed me that Fanfaro is going to play a part in the conspiracy +against the government which I have already spoken to you about."</p> + +<p>"So much the better; but can he be captured in such a way that there +will be no outlet for him?"</p> + +<p>"I hope so."</p> + +<p>"Who gave you this information?" asked the marquis, after Simon had told +him all that Robeckal had overheard.</p> + +<p>"A man called Robeckal; he is a member of Girdel's troupe."</p> + +<p>"Good."</p> + +<p>The marquis took out a note-book, wrote a few lines, and then said:</p> + +<p>"Here, take this note, Simon, and accompany Robeckal at once to +Remiremont. There you will go to the Count of Vernac, the police +superintendent, and give him the note. The count is a faithful supporter +of the monarchy, and will no doubt accede to my request to send some +policemen here this very night to arrest Girdel and Fanfaro. The rest I +shall see to."</p> + +<p>"My lord, I congratulate you," said Simon, respectfully.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[Pg 73]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_X" id="CHAPTER_X"></a>CHAPTER X</h2> + +<h3>ESCAPED</h3> + +<p>Before Robeckal had gone with Simon, he had hurried to Rolla and told +her that he was going to Remiremont now to get some policemen.</p> + +<p>"Our score will be settled now on one board," he said, with a wink.</p> + +<p>The fat woman had looked at him with swimming eyes, and in a maudlin +voice replied:</p> + +<p>"That—is—right—all—must—suffer—Caillette—also!"</p> + +<p>"Certainly, Caillette, too," replied Robeckal, inwardly vowing to follow +his own ideas with respect to this last, and then he hurried after the +steward.</p> + +<p>Caillette and Rolla slept in the same room; when the young girl entered +it she saw the Cannon Queen sitting in an intoxicated condition at the +table surrounded by empty bottles. The horrible woman greeted the young +girl with a coarse laugh, and as Caillette paid no attention to her, +Rolla placed her arms upon the table, and threateningly exclaimed:</p> + +<p>"Don't put on such airs, you tight-rope princess; what will you do when +they take your Fanfaro away?"</p> + +<p>"Take Fanfaro away? What do you mean?" asked Caillette, frightened, +overcoming her repulsion, and looking at Rolla.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[Pg 74]</a></span></p><p>"Ha! ha! ha! Now the pigeon thaws—yes, there is nothing like love," +mocked the drunken woman. "Ah, the policemen won't let themselves be +waited for; Robeckal and the others will look out for that."</p> + +<p>Caillette, horror-stricken, listened to the virago's words. Was she +right, and were her father and Fanfaro in danger?</p> + +<p>"I am going to sleep now," said Rolla, "and when I wake up Fanfaro and +Girdel will have been taken care of."</p> + +<p>Leaning back heavily in the chair, the woman closed her eyes. Caillette +waited until loud snoring told her Rolla was fast asleep, and then she +silently slipped out of the room, locked it from the outside, and +tremblingly hurried to wake her father.</p> + +<p>As she reached Girdel's door, a dark form, which had been crouching near +the threshold, arose.</p> + +<p>"Who's there?" asked Caillette softly.</p> + +<p>"I, little Caillette," replied Bobichel's voice. "I am watching, because +I do not trust Robeckal."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Bobichel, there is danger. I must waken father at once."</p> + +<p>"What is the matter?"</p> + +<p>"Go, wake father and tell him I must speak to him; do not lose a +minute," urged Caillette.</p> + +<p>The clown did not ask any more questions. He hurried to wake Girdel and +Fanfaro, and then called Caillette. The young girl hastily told what she +had heard. At first Girdel shook his head doubtingly, but he soon became +pensive, and when Caillette finally said Rolla even muttered in her +sleep about an important conspiracy and papers, he could no longer +doubt.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[Pg 75]</a></span></p><p>"What shall we do?" he asked, turning to Fanfaro.</p> + +<p>"Fly," said the young man quickly. "We owe our lives and our strength to +the fatherland and the good cause; to stay here would be to put them +both rashly at stake. Let us pray to God that it even now may not be too +late."</p> + +<p>"So be it, let us fly. We can leave the wagon go, and take only the +horses. Is Robeckal at home?" asked Girdel, suddenly turning to +Bobichel.</p> + +<p>"No, master, he has gone."</p> + +<p>"Then forward," said the athlete firmly. "I will take Caillette on my +horse and you two, Fanfaro and Bobichel, mount the second animal."</p> + +<p>"No, master, that won't do," remarked the clown, "you alone are almost +too heavy for a horse; Fanfaro must take Caillette upon his and I shall +go on foot. Do not say otherwise. My limbs can stand a great deal, and I +won't lose sight of you. Where are we going?"</p> + +<p>"We must reach Paris as soon as possible," said Fanfaro. "Shall we wake +the landlord?"</p> + +<p>"Not for any money," said Girdel; "we would only bring him into +trouble."</p> + +<p>"You are right," replied Fanfaro; "we must not open the house door +either, we must go by way of the window."</p> + +<p>"That won't be very difficult for such veterans as we are," laughed +Girdel. "Bobichel, get down at once and saddle the horses. You will find +the saddles in the large box in the wagon. But one minute—what will +become of my wife?"</p> + +<p>The others remained silent, only Fanfaro said:</p> + +<p>"Her present condition is such that we cannot take<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[Pg 76]</a></span> her along; and, +besides, there is no danger in store for her."</p> + +<p>Girdel scratched his head in embarrassment.</p> + +<p>"I will look after her," he finally said, and hurried out.</p> + +<p>In about two minutes he returned.</p> + +<p>"She is sleeping like a log," he said; "we must leave her here. Schwan +will take care of her."</p> + +<p>In the meantime Bobichel had tied the bedclothes, opened the window, and +fastened the clothes to the window hinges. He then whispered jovially: +"Good-evening, ladies and gentlemen," and let himself slide down the +improvised rope. Caillette followed the clown, then came Girdel, and +finally Fanfaro.</p> + +<p>"Let the clothes hang," ordered Girdel.</p> + +<p>They all crept softly to the stable and in about five minutes were on +the street.</p> + +<p>Bobichel ran alongside Girdel. Suddenly he stopped and hurriedly said:</p> + +<p>"I hear the sound of horses' hoofs; we escaped just in time."</p> + +<p>The noise Bobichel heard really came from the policemen, who had hurried +from Remiremont to Sainte-Ame and were now surrounding the Golden Sun. +Robeckal and Simon were smart enough to keep in the background. The +brigadier, a veteran soldier, knocked loudly at the house-door, and soon +the host appeared and asked what was the matter.</p> + +<p>"Open in the name of the king," cried the brigadier impatiently.</p> + +<p>"Policemen, oh my God!" groaned Schwan, more dead than alive. "There +must be a mistake here."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[Pg 77]</a></span></p><p>"Haven't arrested any one yet who didn't say the same thing," growled +the brigadier. "Quick, open the door and deliver up the malefactors."</p> + +<p>"Whom shall I deliver?" asked Schwan, terror-stricken.</p> + +<p>"Two acrobats, named Girdel and Fanfaro," was the answer.</p> + +<p>"Girdel and Fanfaro? Oh, Mr. Brigadier, you are mistaken. What are they +accused of?"</p> + +<p>"Treason! They are members of a secret organization, which is directed +against the monarchy."</p> + +<p>"Impossible; it cannot be!" groaned Schwan.</p> + +<p>"I will conduct the gentlemen," said Robeckal, coming forward.</p> + +<p>"Scoundrel!" muttered the host, while Robeckal preceded the policemen up +the stairs, and pointed to Girdel's room.</p> + +<p>"Open!" cried the brigadier, knocking at the door with the hilt of his +sword.</p> + +<p>As no answer came, he burst open the door, and then uttered an oath.</p> + +<p>"Confound them—they have fled!" exclaimed Robeckal.</p> + +<p>"Yes, the nest is empty," said the brigadier; "look, there at the +window, the bed-sheets are still hanging with which they made their +escape."</p> + +<p>"You are right," growled Robeckal; "but they cannot be very far off +yet."</p> + +<p>"No; quick—to horse!" cried the brigadier to his men; and while they +got into the saddle, Robeckal looked in the stables and discovered the +loss of the two horses. The tracks were soon found, and the pursuers, +with Robeckal at the head, quickly gained the forest. But<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[Pg 78]</a></span> here +something singular happened. The brigadier's horse stumbled and fell, +the horse of the second policeman met with the same accident, and before +the end of two seconds two more horses, together with their riders, lay +on the ground. All four raged and cried in a horrible manner; one of +them had broken a leg, the brigadier's sword had run into his left side, +and two horses were so badly hurt that they had to be killed on the +spot.</p> + +<p>"The devil take them!" cried Robeckal, who was looking about with his +lantern to discover the cause of these accidents, "the scoundrels have +drawn a net of thin cords from one tree to the other."</p> + +<p>"Yes, the scoundrels happened to be smarter than other people," came a +mocking voice from the branch of an oak-tree, and looking up, Robeckal +saw the clown, who, with the quickness of an ape, had now slid down the +tree and disappeared in the bush.</p> + +<p>"Villain!" exclaimed Robeckal, angrily, and taking a gun from one of the +policemen he fired a shot at Bobichel.</p> + +<p>Did the shot take effect?</p> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[Pg 79]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XI" id="CHAPTER_XI"></a>CHAPTER XI</h2> + +<h3>IN PARIS</h3> + +<p>On the 29th of February, 1824, a great crowd of laughing, noisy people +wandered up and down the streets of the French capital, for it was the +last Sunday of the carnival; the boulevards in the neighborhood of the +Palais-Royal especially being packed with promenaders of both sexes.</p> + +<p>An elegant carriage drawn by two thoroughbreds halted at the edge of the +pavement, and three young men got out. They had cigars in their mouths, +which at that time was something extraordinary; white satin masks hid +their faces, and dark (so-called) Venetian mantles, with many colored +bands on their shoulders, covered their forms.</p> + +<p>The young men answered the jokes and guys of the crowd in a jolly +manner, and then took seats in the Cafe de la Rotonde. Darkness came on, +the lights gleamed, and one of the young men said, sorrowfully:</p> + +<p>"The carnival is coming to an end; it's a great pity—we had such fun."</p> + +<p>"Fernando, are you getting melancholy?" laughed the second young man.</p> + +<p>"Fernando is right," remarked the third; "the last day of the carnival +is so dull and spiritless that one can<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[Pg 80]</a></span> plainly see it is nearing the +end. For more than two hours we have been strolling about the +boulevards, but have not met with one adventure. Everywhere the +stereotyped faces and masks; the same jokes as last year; even the +coffee and the cake look stale to me. Arthur, don't you agree with me?"</p> + +<p>"You demand too much," cried Arthur, indifferently; "we still have the +night before us, and it would not be good if we could not find something +to make the hours fly. As a last resort we could get up a scandal."</p> + +<p>"Hush! that smells of treason. The dear mob nowadays is not so easy to +lead, and the police might take a hand in the fight," warned Fernando.</p> + +<p>"So much the better; the scandal would be complete then. The police are +naturally on our side, and our motto—'after us the deluge'—has always +brought us luck."</p> + +<p>The young men laughed loudly. They were evidently in good humor. The one +whom his companions called Arthur was the son of the Count of +Montferrand, who made a name for himself in the House of Deputies on +account of his great speech in favor of the murderers of Marshal Brune; +the second, Gaston de Ferrette, was related to the first families of the +kingdom; he had accompanied the Duke of Angoulême to Spain, and was +known as an expert fencer. He was hardly twenty years of age, but had +already come out victorious in several duels.</p> + +<p>The third young man was a foreigner, but having the very best +recommendations he was soon at home in the capital. His name was +Fernando de Velletri, and he was by birth an Italian of the old +nobility; he was received in all the palaces of the Faubourg St. +Germain, and was<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[Pg 81]</a></span> acquainted with everything that went on in the great +world.</p> + +<p>"Where is Frederic?" asked Arthur now.</p> + +<p>"Really, he seems to have forgotten us," replied Fernando, "I cannot +understand what delays him so long."</p> + +<p>"Stop!" exclaimed Gaston de Ferrette. "Come to think of it, I understand +that he was going to accompany the Countess of Salves to some ceremony +at Notre Dame."</p> + +<p>"Poor fellow!"</p> + +<p>"He is not to be pitied. The Countess of Salves is a charming girl."</p> + +<p>"Bah, she is going to become his wife."</p> + +<p>"So much the more reason that he should love her before the marriage; +afterward, it isn't considered good form to have such feelings."</p> + +<p>"He loves her, then?"</p> + +<p>"I am very grateful to you, gentlemen; even in my absence you occupy +yourselves with my affairs," said a clear, sharp voice now.</p> + +<p>"Frederic, at last; where have you been?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, I have been standing over five minutes behind you, and heard your +conversation."</p> + +<p>"Has it insulted you?" asked Gaston, laughing.</p> + +<p>Frederic did not answer immediately; he let his gaze fall pityingly over +his companion, and Gaston hastily said:</p> + +<p>"Really, Frederic, your splendor throws us in the shade; look at him, he +has no mask, and is dressed after the latest fashion."</p> + +<p>The costume of the last comer was, indeed, much more elegant than those +of the other young men. A<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[Pg 82]</a></span> long overcoat, made of fine brown cloth, sat +tightly about the body and reached to the knees; the sleeves, wide at +the shoulder, narrowed down toward the wrists and formed cuffs, which +fell over the gloved hand. A white satin handkerchief peeped out +coquettishly from the left breast pocket. White trousers, of the finest +cloth, reached to the soles of his shoes, which were pointed and +spurred. A tall, silk hat, with an almost invisible brim, covered his +head.</p> + +<p>Frederic allowed himself to be admired by his friends, and then said:</p> + +<p>"Take my advice and put off your masks at once, and dress yourselves as +becomes young noblemen; let the mob run around with masks on."</p> + +<p>"Frederic is right," said Gaston, "let us hurry to do so."</p> + +<p>"I shall await you here and bring you then to Robert; or better still, +you can meet me at the Cafe Valois."</p> + +<p>The three masks left, and the Vicomte Talizac, for he was the last +comer, remained alone.</p> + +<p>His external appearance was very unsympathetic. The sharply-cut face had +a disagreeable expression, the squinting eyes and rolling look were +likewise repulsive, and if his back was not as much bent as usual, it +was due to the art of Bernard, the tailor of the dandies.</p> + +<p>The Cafe de Valois, toward which the vicomte was now going, was +generally the meeting-place of old soldiers, and the dandies called it +mockingly the cafe of the grayheads. Rumor had it that it was really the +meeting-place of republicans, and it was a matter of surprise why +Delevan, the head of the police department, never took any notice of +these rumors.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[Pg 83]</a></span></p><p>When the vicomte entered the gallery of the cafe, he looked observingly +about him, and then approached a group of young men who all wore plain +black clothing and whose manners were somewhat military.</p> + +<p>The young men moved backward at both sides when the vicomte approached +them. Not one of them gazed at the dandy. The latter, however, stepped +up to one of them, and laying his hand lightly upon his shoulder, said:</p> + +<p>"Sir, can I see you for a moment?"</p> + +<p>The person addressed, a man about twenty-five years of age with +classically formed features, turned hurriedly around; seeing the +vicomte, he said in a cold voice:</p> + +<p>"I am at your service, sir."</p> + +<p>The vicomte walked toward the street and the man followed. On a deserted +corner they both stopped, and the vicomte began:</p> + +<p>"Monsieur, first I must ask you to tell me your name; I am the Vicomte +de Talizac."</p> + +<p>"I know it," replied the young man coldly.</p> + +<p>"So much the better; as soon as I know who you are I will be able to +tell whether I should speak to you as an equal or punish you as a +lackey."</p> + +<p>The young man grew pale but he replied with indomitable courage:</p> + +<p>"I don't know what we two could ever have in common."</p> + +<p>"Sir!" exclaimed Talizac angrily, "in a month I shall lead the Countess +de Salves to the altar; therefore it will not surprise you if I +stigmatize your conduct as outrageous. You rode to-day at noon past the +De Salves palace, and threw a bouquet over the wall and into the +garden."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[Pg 84]</a></span></p><p>"Well, what else?"</p> + +<p>"You have probably good reasons not to give your name, the name of an +adventurer, but in spite of all I must inform you that in case you +repeat the scene I shall be obliged to punish you. I—"</p> + +<p>The vicomte was unable to proceed; the iron fist of the young man was +laid upon his shoulder, and so powerful was the pressure of his hand +that the vicomte was hardly able to keep himself on his feet. The young +man gave a whistle, upon which signal the friends who had followed him +hurried up. When they were near by, Talizac's opponent said:</p> + +<p>"Vicomte, before I provoke a scene, I wish to lay the matter before my +friends; have patience for a moment. Gentlemen," he said, turning to his +companions, "this man insulted me. Shall I fight a duel with him? It is +the Vicomte de Talizac."</p> + +<p>"The Vicomte de Talizac?" replied one of the men addressed, who wore the +cross of the Legion of Honor. "With a Talizac one does not fight duels."</p> + +<p>The vicomte uttered a hoarse cry of rage, and turned under the iron fist +which was still pressed on his shoulder and held him tight; the young +man gave him a look which made his cowardly heart quake, and earnestly +said:</p> + +<p>"Vicomte, we only fight with people we honor. If you do not understand +my words, ask your father the meaning of them; he can give you the +necessary explanations. Perhaps a day may come when I myself may not +refuse to oppose you, and then you may kill me if you are able to do so! +I have told you now what you ought to know, and now go and look up your +dissipated<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[Pg 85]</a></span> companions, and take your presence out of the society of +respectable people."</p> + +<p>Wild with rage, his features horribly distorted, unable to utter a word, +the Vicomte de Talizac put his hand in his pocket, and threw a pack of +cards at his opponent's face. The young man was about to rush upon the +nobleman, but one of his companions seized his arm and whispered:</p> + +<p>"Don't be too hasty, you must not put your life and liberty at stake +just now—you are not your own master;" saying which, he pointed to +three masked faces who had just approached the group.</p> + +<p>The young man shook his head affirmatively, and Talizac took advantage +of this to disappear. He had hardly gone a few steps, when an arm was +thrown under his own and a laughing voice exclaimed:</p> + +<p>"You are punctual, vicomte; your friends can vouch for that."</p> + +<p>The vicomte kept silent, and Fernando, lowering his voice, continued:</p> + +<p>"What was the difficulty between you and the young man? You wanted to +kill him. Are you acquainted with him?"</p> + +<p>"No, I hardly know him; you overheard us?"</p> + +<p>"Excuse me, my dear fellow; your opponent spoke so loudly that we were +not obliged to exert ourselves to hear his estimate of you. Anyhow I +only heard the conclusion of the affair; you will no doubt take pleasure +in relating the commencement to me!"</p> + +<p>The words, and the tone in which they had been said, wounded Talizac's +self-love, and he sharply replied:</p> + +<p>"If it pleases me, Signor Velletri!"</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[Pg 86]</a></span></p><p>The Italian laughed, and then said, in an indifferent tone:</p> + +<p>"My dear vicomte, in the position in which you find yourself, it would +be madness for me to imagine that you intend to insult me, and therefore +I do not consider your words as spoken."</p> + +<p>"What do you mean, signor?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, nothing, except that yesterday was the day of presentation for a +certain paper, which you, in a fit of abstraction, no doubt, signed with +another name than your own!"</p> + +<p>The vicomte grew pale, and he mechanically clinched his fist.</p> + +<p>"How—do—you—know—this?" he finally stammered.</p> + +<p>The Italian drew an elegant portfolio from his pocket, and took a piece +of stamped paper from it.</p> + +<p>"Here is the <i>corpus delicti</i>," he said, laughing.</p> + +<p>"But how did it get into your hands?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, in a very simple way: I bought and paid for it."</p> + +<p>"You, signor? For what purpose?"</p> + +<p>"Could it not be for the purpose of doing you a service?"</p> + +<p>The vicomte shrugged his shoulders; he had no faith in his fellow-men.</p> + +<p>"You are right," said Fernando, replying to the dumb protest, "I will be +truthful with you. I would not want the Vicomte de Talizac to go under, +because my fate is closely attached to his, and because the vicomte's +father, the Marquis de Fougereuse, has done great service for the cause +I serve. Therefore if I earnestly ask you not to commit such follies any +more, you will thank me for it<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[Pg 87]</a></span> and acknowledge that this small +reciprocation is worth the favor I am showing you."</p> + +<p>"Then you will return the paper to me?" cried the vicomte, stretching +out his hand for it.</p> + +<p>"No, the paper does not belong to me."</p> + +<p>"But you just said—"</p> + +<p>"That I bought it, certainly. I paid the price for it only because I +received the amount from several friends."</p> + +<p>"And these friends—"</p> + +<p>"Are the defenders and supporters of the monarchy; they will not harm +you."</p> + +<p>Talizac became pensive.</p> + +<p>"Let us not speak about the matter," continued Fernando; "I only wished +to show you that I have a right to ask your confidence, and I believe +you will no longer look upon it as idle curiosity if I ask you what +business you had with that man."</p> + +<p>The Italian's words confirmed to Talizac the opinion of the world that +Velletri was a tool of the Jesuits. However, he had done him a great +service, and he no longer hesitated to inform Velletri of the +occurrence.</p> + +<p>"I accompanied the Countess de Salves and her daughter to a party at +Tivoli," he began, as he walked slowly along with his companion, "and we +were enjoying ourselves, when suddenly loud cries were heard and the +crowd rushed wildly toward the exits. The platform where dancing was +indulged in gave way, and the young countess, in affright, let go of my +arm and ran into the middle of the crowd. I hurried after her, but could +not catch up with her; she was now in the neighborhood of the scene of +the accident, and, horror-stricken, I saw a huge plank which hung +directly over her head get loose<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[Pg 88]</a></span> and tumble down. I cried aloud; the +plank would crush her to death. At the right minute I saw a man grasp +the plank and hold it in the air. How he did it I have never been able +to tell; the plank weighed at least several hundred pounds, but he +balanced it as if it had been a feather. The young countess had fainted +away. When I finally reached her, the young man held her in his arms, +and from the way in which she looked at him when she opened her eyes, I +at once concluded that that wasn't the first time she had seen him. The +old countess thanked him with tears in her eyes; I asked him for his +name, for I had to find out first if it were proper for me to speak with +him. He gave me no answer, but disappeared in the crowd. The only reward +he took was a ribbon which the lady wore on her bosom and which he +captured. The ribbon had no intrinsic value, but yet I thought it my +duty to inform Irene about it. Do you know what answer she gave me?"</p> + +<p>"No," replied Velletri, calmly.</p> + +<p>"None at all. She turned her back to me."</p> + +<p>"Impossible," observed the Italian, laughing; "well, I suspect that the +knight without fear or reproach followed up the thing?"</p> + +<p>"He did; he permits himself to ride past the Salves's palace every day, +throws flowers over the wall, and I really believe the young countess +picks up the flowers and waits at the window until he appears. Should I +stand this?"</p> + +<p>"No," replied Velletri, laughing; "you must, under all circumstances, +get rid of this gallant. For your consolation, I can tell you it is not +a difficult job."</p> + +<p>"Then you know the man? I sent my servant after<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[Pg 89]</a></span> him, but could not find +out anything further than that he visits the Cafe Valois every day at +this hour, and that is the reason I went there to-day."</p> + +<p>"Without having been able to accomplish your object. My dear vicomte, I +place my experience at your service. The man is no rival, cannot be any; +and if the young countess has built any air-castles in her romantic +brain, I can give you the means to crumble them to pieces."</p> + +<p>"And the means?"</p> + +<p>"Simply tell her the name of her admirer."</p> + +<p>"Yes; but he didn't mention his name to me."</p> + +<p>"That does not surprise me. He was formerly an acrobat, and his name is +Fanfaro."</p> + +<p>The vicomte laughed boisterously. Fanfaro, a former acrobat, ran after +young, noble ladies—it was too comical!</p> + +<p>"So that is why the young man did not wish to fight me," he finally +cried; "it doesn't surprise me any more, and is cowardly too."</p> + +<p>The Italian, who had witnessed the scene in which Fanfaro had refused to +cross weapons with a Talizac, laughed maliciously.</p> + +<p>"The companions of the former acrobat are, no doubt, ignorant of whom +they are dealing with?" asked Talizac.</p> + +<p>"On the contrary, they know him well."</p> + +<p>"I don't understand it! They speak to him, shake hands with him; it is +extraordinary."</p> + +<p>The vicomte's stupidity excited the Italian's pity, but he did not allow +his feelings to be perceived, and said:</p> + +<p>"I think we have discussed this Fanfaro long enough. Let us not forget +that we are still in the Carnival, and that we must hurry if we still +wish to seek some distraction; forget the fatal scene of a short while +ago."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[Pg 90]</a></span></p><p>The vicomte had forgotten long ago that he and his father had been +stigmatized as dishonorable rogues, and in great good humor he +accompanied his companion toward the Rue Vivienne.</p> + +<p>They had not gone far when the vicomte paused and nudged his friend.</p> + +<p>Leaning against the balustrade of a house, a young girl, whose features +were illuminated by the rays of a street lamp, sang in a clear voice to +the accompaniment of a guitar. A large crowd of passers-by had assembled +around the singer, who was a perfect vision of beauty.</p> + +<p>Chestnut brown hair framed a finely cut face, and deep black eyes looked +innocently from underneath long eyelashes. The fingers which played on +the instrument were long and tapering, and every movement of the body +was the personification of grace.</p> + +<p>When the song was finished loud applause was heard. The young songstress +bowed at all sides, and a flush of pleasure lighted up the charming +face. Every one put a penny on the instrument. When the vicomte's turn +came, he threw forty francs on the guitar, and approached close to the +songstress.</p> + +<p>"You are alone to-day?" he boldly asked.</p> + +<p>The young girl trembled from head to foot and walked on. The vicomte +gazed after her, and the Italian laughingly observed:</p> + +<p>"The 'Marquise' is very strict to-day."</p> + +<p>Thereupon he bent down and picked something up from the ground.</p> + +<p>"Here, vicomte, is your money; the little one threw it away."</p> + +<p>The vicomte uttered a cry of rage.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[Pg 91]</a></span></p><p>"The impertinent hussy!" he hissed.</p> + +<p>"The affair has been going on in this way for the last two months," said +the Italian, dryly; "and you could have known long ago, vicomte, that +the 'Marquise' spurns your attentions."</p> + +<p>"Fernando, I really believe you play the spy upon me!" exclaimed +Talizac; "have a care, my patience has its limits."</p> + +<p>"You are too tragical," replied Velletri, shrugging his shoulders; +"instead of pursuing the little one with platonic declarations, you +ought to try to break her spirit."</p> + +<p>"Velletri, you are right," replied Talizac; "yes, I will revenge myself +upon Fanfaro and possess this girl. What am I peer of France for?"</p> + +<p>"Bravo, vicomte, you please me now—let us go to dinner, and then—"</p> + +<p>"But the 'Marquise'?"</p> + +<p>"Have patience. You will be satisfied with me."</p> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[Pg 92]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XII" id="CHAPTER_XII"></a>CHAPTER XII</h2> + +<h3>THE "MARQUISE."</h3> + +<p>Mardi-Gras had come and folly reigned supreme at Paris. Opposite the +Café Turque, which had already at that time a European reputation, stood +a small poverty-stricken house. It was No. 48 Boulevard du Temple, and +was inhabited by poor people.</p> + +<p>In a small but cleanly room on the fifth story a young girl stood before +a mirror arranging her toilet. The "Marquise," for it was she, looked +curiously out of place in her humble surroundings.</p> + +<p>A dark, tightly fitting dress showed her form to perfection, and the +dark rose in her hair was no redder than the fresh lips of the young +girl. The little singer gave a last glance in the mirror, smoothed back +a rebellious curl, and seized her guitar to tune it.</p> + +<p>A low moan came from a neighboring room. The street-singer immediately +opened the curtained door and slipped into the room from which a cry now +came.</p> + +<p>"Louison—little Louison!"</p> + +<p>"The poor thing—she has woke up," sighed the girl as she approached the +small bed which stood in the equally small space.</p> + +<p>"Mamma, how goes it?" she asked.</p> + +<p>The form which lay on the bed looked almost <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[Pg 93]</a></span>inhuman. The cadaverous +face was half burned and the bloodshot eyes, destitute of eyebrows, +could not stand the least ray of light. The hands were horribly burned, +and her laugh exposed her toothless gums.</p> + +<p>"Thirst, Louison," stammered the woman, pulling her long gray hair over +her eyes.</p> + +<p>"There, mamma, drink," said Louison, bending tenderly over the poor +woman.</p> + +<p>The woman drank eagerly the glass of milk offered, and then muttered +softly to herself.</p> + +<p>"It is so warm, I am burning, everywhere there are flames."</p> + +<p>The poor woman was crazy, and no one would have ever recognized in her, +Louise, the wife of the landlord Jules Fougeres.</p> + +<p>The reader will have guessed long since that Louison, the street-singer, +was none other than Fanfaro's lost sister. The young girl, however, did +not know that the poor woman she so tenderly nursed was her mother.</p> + +<p>Louison had once lost herself in the woods, and in her blind fear had +run farther and farther until she finally reached an exit. As she stood +in a field sobbing bitterly, a man approached her and asked her who she +was and where she had come from. The child, exhausted by the excitement +of the last few days, could not give a clear answer, and so the man took +her on his arm and brought her to his wife, who was waiting for him in a +thicket. The man and his wife carried on a terrible trade; they hovered +about battlefields to seek prey, and more than one wounded man had been +despatched by them if his purse or his watch attracted the robbers' +attention. Nevertheless, these "Hyenas of the battlefield" were good<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[Pg 94]</a></span> +and kind to the lost child; they treated her just like their own +children, of whom they had three, and at the end of the war, in +consequence of the good crop they had secured on the battlefield, they +were possessed of sufficient competence to buy a little place in +Normandy.</p> + +<p>Louison grew up. An old musician, who discovered that she had a +magnificent voice, took pride in teaching the child how to sing, and +when on Sundays she would sing in the choir, he would enthusiastically +exclaim, "Little Louison will be a good songstress some day, her voice +sounds far above the others."</p> + +<p>An epidemic came to the village soon after, and at the end of two days +her foster-parents were carried away, and Louison was once more alone in +the world.</p> + +<p>The nuns of the neighboring convent took the child, taught it what they +knew themselves, and a few years passed peacefully for Louison.</p> + +<p>A thirst to see the world took hold of her; the convent walls stifled +her, and she implored the nuns to let her wander again. Naturally her +request was refused, and so Louison tried to help herself.</p> + +<p>One dark, stormy night she clambered over the garden wall, and when the +nuns came to wake her next morning for early mass, they found her bed +empty and the room vacant.</p> + +<p>Singing and begging, the child wandered through Normandy. In many +farmhouses she was kept a week as a guest, and one old woman even +presented her with a guitar, which a stranger had left behind.</p> + +<p>The proverb "all roads lead to Rome" would be more true in many cases if +it said they lead to Paris; and thus it was with Louison. After a long +and difficult journey<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[Pg 95]</a></span> she reached the capital, the El Dorado of street +singers from Savoy; and, with the sanguine temperament of youth, the +fifteen-year-old girl no longer doubted that she would support herself +honestly.</p> + +<p>In a miserable quarter of the great city, in the midst of people as poor +as herself, Louison found a habitation. The wondrous beauty of the girl +soon attracted attention, and when she sang songs on some street-corner +she never failed to reap a harvest. At the end of four weeks she had her +special public, and could now carry out a project she had long thought +of. She went to the inspector of the quarter and begged him to name her +some poor, sickly old woman whom she could provide for.</p> + +<p>"I do not wish to be alone," she said, as the inspector looked at her in +amazement, "and it seems to me that my life would have an aim if I could +care for some one."</p> + +<p>Petitions of this kind are quickly disposed of, and on the next day +Louison received an order to go to another house in the same quarter and +visit an old mad woman whose face had been terribly disfigured by fire.</p> + +<p>Louison did not hesitate a moment to take the woman, whose appearance +was so repulsive, to her home. When she asked the crazy woman, who gazed +at her, "Mother, do you wish to go with me?" the deserted woman nodded, +and from that day on she was sheltered.</p> + +<p>Who could tell but that Louison's voice recalled to that clouded memory +the recollection of happier days? Anyhow the maniac was tender and +obedient to the young girl, and a daughter could not have nursed and +cared for the poor old woman better than Louison did.</p> + +<p>The sobriquet of the "Marquise" had been given to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[Pg 96]</a></span> Louison by the people +of the quarter. She was so different from her companions; she looked +refined and aristocratic, although her clothes were of the cheapest +material, and no one would have dared to say an unkind or bold word to +the young girl.</p> + +<p>As the old woman handed the empty glass back to the girl, Louison +cheerfully said:</p> + +<p>"Mother, I must go out; promise me that you will be good during my +absence."</p> + +<p>"Good," repeated the maniac.</p> + +<p>"Then you can put on your new cap to-morrow."</p> + +<p>"The one with the ribbons?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"Oh, then I will be good."</p> + +<p>The poor thing clapped her hands, but suddenly she uttered a cry of +pain.</p> + +<p>"Ah!—my head—it is burning!"</p> + +<p>Louison, with heavenly patience, caressed her gray hair and calmed her.</p> + +<p>"Ah! where is the box?" the maniac complained after a while.</p> + +<p>"To-morrow I will bring it to you," said the songstress, who knew the +whims of the sick woman.</p> + +<p>"Do not forget it," said the old woman; "in that box is luck. Oh, where +did I put it?"</p> + +<p>She continued to mutter softly to herself. Louison allowed her to do so, +and slipped into the other room. It was time for her to go about her +business. This being Mardi-Gras, she expected to reap a rich harvest. As +she was about to open the door, she suddenly paused; she thought she +heard a voice, and listened. A knock now sounded at the door, and +Louison asked:</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[Pg 97]</a></span></p><p>"Who is there?"</p> + +<p>"A friend," came back in a loud voice.</p> + +<p>"Your name?"</p> + +<p>"You do not know me."</p> + +<p>"Tell me your name."</p> + +<p>"Robeckal; please admit me."</p> + +<p>The young girl did not open at once; an indefinable fear seized her. +Suppose the vicomte, who had followed her all over, had at last found +out where she lived?</p> + +<p>"Well, are you going to open?" cried Robeckal, becoming impatient.</p> + +<p>Hesitatingly Louison pushed back the bolt, and with a sigh of relief she +saw Robeckal's face; no, that was not the vicomte.</p> + +<p>"H'm, mademoiselle, you thought perhaps that I was a beggar?" asked +Robeckal, mockingly.</p> + +<p>"Please tell me quickly what you want," cried Louison, hurriedly. "I +must go out, and have no time to lose."</p> + +<p>"You might offer me a chair, anyway," growled Robeckal, looking steadily +at the handsome girl.</p> + +<p>"I told you before I am in a hurry," replied Louison, coldly; "therefore +please do not delay me unnecessarily."</p> + +<p>Robeckal saw that the best thing he could do would be to come to the +point at once, and grinning maliciously, he said:</p> + +<p>"Mademoiselle, would you like to earn some money?"</p> + +<p>"That depends—go on."</p> + +<p>"Let me first speak about myself. I am an extra waiter. Do you know what +that is?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, you assist in saloons on Sundays and holidays."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[Pg 98]</a></span></p><p>"Right. For the past three days I have been at The Golden Calf, just in +the street above."</p> + +<p>"Ah, by Monsieur Aube?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. The landlord would like to treat his guests to-day to some special +amusement, and so he said to me last night, 'Robeckal, do you know of +anything new and piquant!'</p> + +<p>"'The "Marquise," master,' I replied.</p> + +<p>"'But will she come?'</p> + +<p>"'H'm, we must ask her. How much do you intend to spend?'</p> + +<p>"'Twenty francs.'</p> + +<p>"'Good,' I said, 'I will ask her,' and here I am."</p> + +<p>Louison had allowed Robeckal to finish. The man displeased her, but his +offer was worth considering. Twenty francs! For the young girl the sum +was a small fortune, and her heart ceased to beat when she thought of +the many little comforts she could provide her <i>protégée</i> with it.</p> + +<p>"Did not Monsieur Aube give you a letter for me?" she asked, still +hesitating.</p> + +<p>"No, mademoiselle. Do you mistrust me?"</p> + +<p>"I did not say that, but I cannot decide so hastily. I will be at the +Golden Calf in a little while, and give the gentleman my answer."</p> + +<p>"Mademoiselle, tell me at once that you don't care to go, and I will get +the man without arms, who will do just as well. He won't refuse, I +warrant you."</p> + +<p>With these words, Robeckal took out a card and pointed to two addresses +thereon. The first was Louison's address, the second that of a +street-singer who was well known to the young girl. Louison no longer +doubted.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[Pg 99]</a></span></p><p>"I shall come," she said firmly; "when shall I make my appearance?"</p> + +<p>"At eight o'clock."</p> + +<p>"And when will I be done?"</p> + +<p>A peculiar smile, unnoticed by Louison, played about Robeckal's lips.</p> + +<p>"I really do not know," he finally replied, "but it will be between ten +and eleven. With such good pay a minute more or less won't make much +difference."</p> + +<p>"No, but it must not be later than midnight."</p> + +<p>"On no account, mademoiselle; if you are afraid, why, I will see you +home," Robeckal gallantly cried.</p> + +<p>"Good—tell Monsieur Aube I shall be punctual."</p> + +<p>"Done. I suppose, mademoiselle, you will not forget to give me a portion +of the twenty francs? I was the one, you know, who brought it about."</p> + +<p>"With pleasure."</p> + +<p>"Then good-by until this evening."</p> + +<p>Robeckal hurried down the five flights of stairs. In front of the house +a man enveloped in a wide mantle walked up and down.</p> + +<p>When he saw Robeckal, he anxiously asked:</p> + +<p>"Well?"</p> + +<p>"It is settled."</p> + +<p>"Really? Will she come?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly."</p> + +<p>The man in the cloak, who was no other than Fernando de Velletri, let +some gold pieces slip into Robeckal's hand.</p> + +<p>"If everything goes all right, you will get five hundred francs more," +he cried.</p> + +<p>"It is as good as if I had the money already in my<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[Pg 100]</a></span> pocket. Besides, the +racket is rather cheap, for the little one is a picture."</p> + +<p>"So much the better," laughed the Italian.</p> + +<p>While the worthy pair were discussing their plans, Louison went as usual +to the boulevards and sang her pretty songs.</p> + +<p>In the Golden Calf, Monsieur Aube's restaurant, things were very lively. +The guests fairly swarmed in. The landlord ran busily to and fro, now in +the kitchen turning over the roast, then again giving orders to the +waiters, pulling a tablecloth here, uncorking a bottle there, and then +again greeting new guests. On days like this the place was too narrow, +and it always made Aube angry that he could not use the first story. The +house belonged to an old man, who had until recently lived on the first +floor, but since then new tenants had moved in, who were a thorn in the +saloon-keeper's side. He had tried his best to get rid of them, advanced +the rent, implored, chicaned, but all in vain. They stayed.</p> + +<p>If they had only been tenants one could be proud of; but no! The family +consisted of an athlete who called himself Firejaws; his daughter +Caillette, a tight-rope dancer, a clown called Mario, and a young +acrobat, Fanfaro. Every day the troupe performed on the Place du Chateau +d'Eau, and, besides this, people visited the house under the pretence of +taking lessons from Fanfaro in parlor magic.</p> + +<p>These visitors, strange to say, looked very respectable; most of them +appeared to be old soldiers. They certainly had no need to learn magic.</p> + +<p>The large hall was filled to the last seat, and the waiters ran here and +there with dishes, when an elegant<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[Pg 101]</a></span> equipage drove up and immediately +afterward the stentorian voice of the landlord cried:</p> + +<p>"Jean, the gentlemen who have ordered room No. 11 have arrived. Conduct +them upstairs."</p> + +<p>The gentlemen were the Vicomte de Talizac, Arthur de Montferrand and +Fernando de Velletri. Jean led them to the room, and began to set the +table.</p> + +<p>"Tell me, Frederic," began Arthur, as he threw himself lazily in a +chair, "how you got the idea of inviting us to this hole for dinner?"</p> + +<p>The waiter threw an angry look at Arthur, who had dared to call the +Golden Calf a hole.</p> + +<p>"My dear Arthur," said the vicomte, coldly, "have patience yet a while. +It is not my fashion to speak about my affairs in the presence of +servants."</p> + +<p>Jean hastily drew back, and only the thought of losing his tip prevailed +upon him to serve his customers.</p> + +<p>"Now we are alone," said Arthur, "and we'll finally find out all about +it—"</p> + +<p>"I must beg your pardon once more," interrupted the vicomte, "but before +dessert I never bother about serious affairs."</p> + +<p>"Ah, it is serious then," remarked Arthur. He knew that Talizac was +often short and feared that he was about to ask for a loan. The young +men dined with good appetite, and as the waiter placed the dessert upon +the table, the vicomte threw a glass filled with red wine against the +wall and exclaimed:</p> + +<p>"Champagne, bring champagne!"</p> + +<p>"Well, I must say that you end the Carnival in a worthy way," laughed +Velletri.</p> + +<p>"Bah! I must drown my troubles in champagne," <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[Pg 102]</a></span>replied the vicomte, +shrugging his shoulders. "I tell you, my friends, I had a conversation +with my father to-day which made me wild."</p> + +<p>"Ah, it was about your marriage, no doubt!" said the Italian.</p> + +<p>"Yes. The marquis wants me to go to the altar in fourteen days. That +would be a fine thing."</p> + +<p>"But I thought the marriage was a good one for both sides; the fortune +of the Salves—"</p> + +<p>"Oh, bother with the fortune!" interrupted the vicomte.</p> + +<p>"And, besides, the young countess is very beautiful," continued Arthur.</p> + +<p>"Beautiful?" repeated the vicomte, mockingly; "not that I can see. She +puts on airs, as if the whole world lay at her feet, and poses as such a +virtuous being. And yet I really believe she is no better than other +people; I—"</p> + +<p>"Frederic," interrupted Velletri, warningly; he feared that the vicomte +would inform young Montferrand what had occurred between his bride and +the acrobat.</p> + +<p>"Well," said Arthur, hastily, "I hope that when Irene de Salves becomes +your bride you will be more pleasant to her."</p> + +<p>"Really, Arthur, you have such antediluvian notions," laughed the +vicomte; "formerly we said that marriage was the grave of love; but if +there has been no love beforehand, it follows that the grave will remain +empty. No, my friends, if I am bound by marriage ties, I authorize you +both to hunt on my ground, and it will give me pleasure if you score a +success. Who knows? The countess is, perhaps, less prudish than she +seems."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[Pg 103]</a></span></p><p>"Perhaps I shall make use of the permission," laughed Arthur, +carelessly.</p> + +<p>"I wish you joy. I haven't the stuff of a jealous husband in me, and the +freedom I ask for myself I grant to others!"</p> + +<p>"That is unselfish," said the Italian; "not every one is so liberal with +his wife."</p> + +<p>"Bah! the wife of a friend is decidedly more piquant than one's own, and +who knows but that I may revenge myself later on. I—"</p> + +<p>At this moment a clear, fresh girlish voice was heard coming from +downstairs, and the first verse of a ballad by Romagnesi was +delightfully phrased. The young men listened attentively to the simple +song, and when at the end of the same a storm of applause followed, +Arthur clapped his hands too.</p> + +<p>"What a pity," he said, "that one cannot hear this nightingale nearer."</p> + +<p>"Why should not that be possible?" cried the vicomte, springing up as if +electrified.</p> + +<p>Fernando grew frightened. This idea might disturb his plan.</p> + +<p>"What is there in a street-singer?" he contemptuously asked.</p> + +<p>Talizac, however, who was under the influence of the champagne he had +drunk, did not understand the hint, and angrily exclaimed:</p> + +<p>"Now she shall just come upstairs; first she must sing to us, and +then—"</p> + +<p>"And then?" repeated Arthur curiously.</p> + +<p>"Ah, it is merely a little surprise we arranged for the little one," +observed Velletri, with a cynical laugh.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[Pg 104]</a></span></p><p>"What! a surprise?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"And she does not suspect anything?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing."</p> + +<p>"Well, I am curious to see the little one; let us call Aube, he can show +his singer to us."</p> + +<p>"Gentlemen, no folly," warned Velletri, "we are not in the Palais Royal +here, and in some things the mob does not see any fun."</p> + +<p>"I will attend to the people downstairs," said Arthur, while the vicomte +rang loudly.</p> + +<p>When the waiter came he received the order to send the landlord up, and +in less than five minutes the latter came and bowed respectfully to the +guests who had drunk so much champagne.</p> + +<p>"Monsieur Aube," began the vicomte, "who is the little bird that sings +so beautifully downstairs?"</p> + +<p>"A young, modest, and very respectable girl, gentlemen."</p> + +<p>The young men burst into loud laughter.</p> + +<p>"A saint, then?" exclaimed Arthur.</p> + +<p>"Really, gentlemen, she is very virtuous and respectable."</p> + +<p>"So much the better," said the young men to Aube. "We would like to take +a good look at the little one. Send her up to us so that she can sing a +few songs for us, and at the same time put a few more bottles on the +ice."</p> + +<p>Monsieur Aube did not know what to do.</p> + +<p>"What are you waiting for?" asked the vicomte, in a maudlin voice.</p> + +<p>"Gentlemen, the little one is so pure," said the landlord, earnestly.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[Pg 105]</a></span></p><p>"Are we going to ruin her?" exclaimed Talizac, with a laugh. "She shall +sing, and we will pay her well for it. She shall get a hundred francs; +is that enough?"</p> + +<p>The landlord considered. He knew Louison was poor, and he said to +himself he had no right to prevent the pretty girl from earning so much +money. Moreover, she was not called "The Marquise" for nothing, and +Velletri's mien reassured the host. So he came to the conclusion that +there was no danger to be feared for his <i>protégée</i>. Even if the other +two were drunk, the Italian was sober; and so the host finally said:</p> + +<p>"I will send the little one."</p> + +<p>As the landlord entered the hall, Louison was just going about and +collecting. The crop was a rich one, and with sparkling eyes the +songstress returned to her place, to give a few more songs, when Aube +drew her into a corner.</p> + +<p>"Louison," he softly said, "I have got a good business to propose to +you."</p> + +<p>"What is it, Father Aube?"</p> + +<p>The landlord, somewhat embarrassed, stammeringly answered:</p> + +<p>"If you desire you can make one hundred francs in fifteen minutes."</p> + +<p>"So much? You are joking?"</p> + +<p>"Not at all; you sing two or three songs, and the money is earned."</p> + +<p>"Where shall I sing?"</p> + +<p>"Here in my house, on the first story."</p> + +<p>At this minute the hall-door opened and loud laughter came from above. +Louison looked anxiously at the host and asked:</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[Pg 106]</a></span></p><p>"Who wants to hear me?"</p> + +<p>"Some guests, Louison; high-toned guests."</p> + +<p>"Are they ladies and gentlemen, or only gentlemen?"</p> + +<p>"Gentlemen, jolly young gentlemen."</p> + +<p>"And if I go up will you stay in the neighborhood?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly; this house is my house, and you are under my protection."</p> + +<p>Louison considered. One hundred francs was a treasure with which she +could do wonders. A comfortable chair could be bought for the invalid, +wine and other strengthening things kept in the house, and—</p> + +<p>"I agree," she said, picking up her guitar; "when shall I go up?"</p> + +<p>"Directly, Louison, I will accompany you."</p> + +<p>"H'm, what does that mean?" exclaimed a solid-looking citizen as he saw +Louison go up the stairs; "is the performance over?"</p> + +<p>"No," said Aube to his guests, "Louison will sing more later on. Have a +little patience."</p> + +<p>When the landlord and the young girl entered the room of the young men, +Aube was agreeably surprised at seeing that the vicomte had disappeared. +He was perfectly calm now. It had been the vicomte of whom Aube had been +afraid, and with a light heart he left the apartment.</p> + +<p>"'Marquise,' will you be so kind as to sing us a song?" asked Arthur, +politely.</p> + +<p>Louison's modesty began to have a good influence on him, and he already +regretted having assisted Talizac in his plan.</p> + +<p>Louison tuned her instrument and then began to sing a pretty little air. +Montferrand and Velletri listened <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[Pg 107]</a></span>attentively, and when she had ended +they both asked her in the most polite way imaginable to sing another +song. Louison did not wait to be coaxed; she began a simple ballad and +sang it with melting sweetness. Suddenly she uttered a loud scream and +let her guitar fall. Frederic de Talizac stood before her.</p> + +<p>"Continue your song, my pretty child," giggled the vicomte; "I hope I +have not frightened you?"</p> + +<p>As he said this he tried to put his arm around Louison's waist.</p> + +<p>She recoiled as if stung by a rattlesnake.</p> + +<p>"I will not sing any more," she said firmly; "let me go."</p> + +<p>"Nonsense, my little pigeon, you remain here," said the vicomte huskily, +placing himself in front of the door, "and for each note you sing I will +give you a kiss."</p> + +<p>The poor child was paralyzed with fear. She threw an agonizing look upon +the drunken man's companions, and when she saw them both sit there so +calm and indifferent, her eyes sparkled with anger.</p> + +<p>"Miserable cowards!" she contemptuously exclaimed. "Will you permit a +drunken scoundrel to insult a defenceless girl?"</p> + +<p>Arthur sprang up. A flash of shame was on his classically formed +features, and turning to Talizac he hastily said:</p> + +<p>"She is right, vicomte; are you not ashamed?"</p> + +<p>"Are you speaking to me?" laughed Talizac, mockingly. "I really believe +you wish to be the Don Quixote of this virtuous Dulcinea del Toboso! No, +my friend, we did not bet that way; the girl must be mine, and I should +like to see the man who will oppose me."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[Pg 108]</a></span></p><p>He grasped Louison's arm; the young girl cried aloud for help, and the +next minute the vicomte tumbled back struck by a powerful blow of the +fist. Montferrand had come to the street-singer's rescue.</p> + +<p>The vicomte roared like a wild bull, and, seizing a knife from the +table, rushed upon Arthur. The two men struggled with one another. The +table fell over; and while Louison unsuccessfully tried to separate the +combatants, Velletri looked coolly at the fray.</p> + +<p>"Help! murder!" cried Louison in desperation. She did not think of +escape. She hoped Aube would make his appearance.</p> + +<p>The landlord had really hastened up at the first cry, but at the head of +the stairs Robeckal had held him tight and uttered a peculiar whistle. +Two powerful men came in answer to the signal, and seizing the host in +their arms, they bore him to a small room where the brooms were kept. +Aube imagined his house had been entered by burglars. He threw himself +with all his force against the door, he cried for help, and soon a few +guests who had been sitting in the restaurant came to his assistance and +rescued him.</p> + +<p>"Follow me, gentlemen," cried the landlord, angrily. "It is a dastardly +conspiracy! Upstairs there they are driving a poor, innocent girl to +despair. Help me to rescue her. It's the 'Marquise.' Oh, heavens! her +cries have ceased, she must be dead!"</p> + +<p>Twenty men, in company with the landlord, rushed into the young men's +rooms. Louison was no longer there, and in the centre Montferrand and +the vicomte were still fighting with one another. Montferrand had +already taken the knife away from the drunken man,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[Pg 109]</a></span> when the vicomte +angrily rushed at Arthur and hit him in the neck. A stream of blood +gushed from the wound, and with a low moan the wounded man sank to the +ground.</p> + +<p>Before he could rise to his feet again, Velletri had seized the vicomte +by the arm, and in spite of his resistance dragged him down the stairs. +When Aube looked around for them, they had already left and not a trace +of Louison could be found.</p> + +<p>"Merciful God!" he despairingly cried, "where is the poor child? I +promised her I would protect her, and now—"</p> + +<p>"The scoundrels have abducted her!" exclaimed Arthur, who had in the +meantime recovered. "It was a shrewdly planned piece of business."</p> + +<p>"Abducted her? Impossible!" cried the landlord, looking at Arthur in +amazement. "Who are the men?"</p> + +<p>A crowd of guests had gathered about Arthur and the landlord, and while +a barber tried to stanch the still bleeding wound, Montferrand bitterly +said:</p> + +<p>"One of the scoundrels bears a noble old name. Shame over the nobility +of France that it tolerates a Talizac and Fougereuse in its ranks."</p> + +<p>"Who speaks of Talizac and Fougereuse?" cried a fresh voice, and a very +handsome man approached Monsieur Aube.</p> + +<p>"Ah, Monsieur Fanfaro," said the landlord vivaciously, "Heaven sends you +at the right time. Forget all the troubles and the cares I have caused +you; I will never say another word against athletes and acrobats, but +help us!"</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[Pg 110]</a></span></p><p>"What has happened?" asked Fanfaro in astonishment. "I just came home +and found every one in the restaurant excited. I asked, but no one knew +anything, so I hurried here. Tell me what I can do for you; I am ready."</p> + +<p>"May God reward you, Monsieur Fanfaro; oh, if it is only not too late."</p> + +<p>"Monsieur Aube," asked Fanfaro, politely, "what is the matter?"</p> + +<p>"A young girl—it will bring me to my grave when I think that such a +thing should happen in my house—I—"</p> + +<p>"Landlord," interrupted Arthur, "let me tell the story to the gentleman.</p> + +<p>"Unfortunately," continued Montferrand, turning to Fanfaro, "I am mixed +up in the affair myself. I let myself be persuaded by the Vicomte de +Talizac—"</p> + +<p>"I thought so," growled Fanfaro.</p> + +<p>"And his friend Velletri to accompany them here—"</p> + +<p>"Velletri? The Italian spy? The tool of the Jesuits, who treacherously +betrayed his own countrymen, the Carbonari?" asked Fanfaro, +contemptuously.</p> + +<p>"Really, you are telling me something new," replied Arthur, "but it +served me right. Why wasn't I more particular in the choice of my +companions! Well, this worthy pair have abducted a young girl, a +street-singer."</p> + +<p>"The scoundrels! Where have they carried the poor child to?"</p> + +<p>"God alone knows! I only heard here about the plan, but the scoundrels +did not inform me where they intended to bring the poor child," replied +Arthur, feeling ashamed at having had even the slightest connection +with<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[Pg 111]</a></span> the affair, and inwardly vowing never again to have anything to do +with the scoundrels who bear noble names.</p> + +<p>"But the girl, no doubt, has relatives, parents or friends, who will +follow her traces?"</p> + +<p>"No," replied Aube, "she is an orphan, and is called the 'Marquise.'"</p> + +<p>"Why has she received that sobriquet?"</p> + +<p>"I do not know. She is a very respectable girl."</p> + +<p>"Where does she live?"</p> + +<p>"Not far from here, No. 42 Boulevard du Temple, fifth story. Robeckal, +an extra waiter, who, as I have since found out, is a cunning scoundrel, +had engaged her for to-night."</p> + +<p>"If Robeckal had a hand in the affair then it can only be a scoundrelly +one!" exclaimed Fanfaro, with a frown.</p> + +<p>"Do you know him?"</p> + +<p>"Unfortunately, yes; tell me what more do you know?"</p> + +<p>"Not much. The 'Marquise' lives with an old, poor crazy woman, who lost +her reason and the use of her limbs at a fire. The young girl, whose +name is Louison—"</p> + +<p>"Louison?" cried Fanfaro, in affright.</p> + +<p>"Yes; why, what is the matter with you?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing; tell me how old is the girl?"</p> + +<p>"About sixteen."</p> + +<p>"My God, that would just be right; but no, it cannot be."</p> + +<p>"Monsieur Fanfaro," said Montferrand, gently, "can I do anything for +you, you seem to be in trouble?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, I have a horrible suspicion, I cannot explain it to you now, but +the age and the name agree. Ah, that<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[Pg 112]</a></span> infamous Talizac! again and again +he crosses my path; but if I catch him now, I will stamp upon him like a +worm!"</p> + +<p>"Do you intend to follow the robbers?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly, I must rescue the girl."</p> + +<p>"Monsieur Fanfaro," said Montferrand, "do with me what you will, I will +help you!"</p> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[Pg 113]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIII" id="CHAPTER_XIII"></a>CHAPTER XIII</h2> + +<h3>THE PURSUIT</h3> + +<p>Fanfaro looked gratefully at the young nobleman and then said:</p> + +<p>"Please tell me your name, so that I may know whom I am under +obligations to?"</p> + +<p>"My name is Arthur de Montferrand," said the nobleman, handing his card +to the young man, whose profession he knew, with the same politeness as +if he were a peer of France.</p> + +<p>Fanfaro bowed and then hurriedly said:</p> + +<p>"Let us not lose any more time; I—"</p> + +<p>Loud knocking at the house-door and the murmur of several voices, which +came from below, made the young man pause. The planting of muskets on +the pavement was now heard and a coarse voice cried:</p> + +<p>"Open in the name of the law!"</p> + +<p>Fanfaro trembled.</p> + +<p>"The police!" exclaimed Aube, breathing more freely; "perhaps the +robbers have already been captured."</p> + +<p>Fanfaro laid his hand upon Aube's shoulder.</p> + +<p>"Monsieur Aube," he said bitterly, "the police to-day do not bother +about such trivial affairs. The minions of Louis XVIII. hunt different +game."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[Pg 114]</a></span></p><p>"Open," came louder than before, "or we shall burst in the door."</p> + +<p>"My God! my God! what a day this is," complained Aube, sinking +helplessly on a chair; "what do the police want in my house?"</p> + +<p>"Monsieur Aube, they seek conspirators, heroes of freedom and justice," +said Fanfaro earnestly.</p> + +<p>"How so? What do you mean?" asked Aube, opening wide his eyes and +looking at the young man.</p> + +<p>"I am one of the men the police are looking for," exclaimed Fanfaro +coolly.</p> + +<p>"You!" exclaimed Montferrand in terror, "then you are lost."</p> + +<p>"Not yet," laughed Fanfaro. "Monsieur Aube, hurry and open the door and +try to detain the people. That is all that is necessary. Good-by for the +present, and do not forget to hunt for the girl; with the aid of God we +will find her."</p> + +<p>He ran out, and the nobleman and the landlord heard him bound up the +stairs. Aube now began to push back the iron bolt of the street door, +and when it opened several policemen and an inspector entered.</p> + +<p>"I must say, Monsieur Aube," cried the inspector angrily, "you took a +long time to obey his majesty's order."</p> + +<p>"But at this time of night," stammered Aube. "What are you looking for, +inspector?"</p> + +<p>"Ask rather whom I am looking for?" retorted the inspector.</p> + +<p>His gaze fell on Arthur, who did not look very attractive with his +bloody clothes and torn shirt.</p> + +<p>"Who is this tramp?" asked the inspector roughly.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[Pg 115]</a></span></p><p>"The tramp will have you thrown out if you are impertinent. My name is +Arthur de Montferrand, and I am the son of the Marquis of Montferrand."</p> + +<p>The inspector opened his eyes wide with astonishment. How could such a +mistake happen to him? The son of the Marquis of Montferrand. The +inspector would have preferred just now to hide himself in a corner. He +stammered apology upon apology, and then in an embarrassed way muttered:</p> + +<p>"I have got a painful mission. I am to look for a 'suspect' in this +house."</p> + +<p>"A 'suspect'?" whispered Aube, anxiously.</p> + +<p>"Yes; conspirators who threaten the sacred person of the king."</p> + +<p>"And you are looking for these people in my house?" asked Aube, +apparently overwhelmed at the intelligence.</p> + +<p>"Yes, they are said to live here; two acrobats, named Girdel and +Fanfaro."</p> + +<p>"Inspector, I am inconsolable; but I will not oppose you; do your duty," +said Aube, with the mien of a man who gives a kingdom away.</p> + +<p>Arthur and the landlord exchanged knowing looks as the inspector strode +toward the door. Fanfaro must be in safety by this time.</p> + +<p>"The house is surrounded," said the inspector, as he went away, "and I +think we shall have little to do."</p> + +<p>Montferrand trembled. Suppose Fanfaro had been captured! The policemen +went to the upper story, which had been pointed out to them by the +landlord as the residence of Girdel and Fanfaro.</p> + +<p>"Open, in the name of the law!" thundered a voice,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[Pg 116]</a></span> which shook the +house; and then followed, hardly less loud, the angry exclamation:</p> + +<p>"By Jupiter, the nest is empty; the birds have flown!"</p> + +<p>At this moment a voice cried from the street:</p> + +<p>"Inspector, they are escaping over the roofs."</p> + +<p>It was Simon, the worthy steward of the Marquis of Fougereuse, who +assisted the police to-day. He had stationed himself, with several +officers, in front of the house, and had noticed two shadows gliding +over the roofs.</p> + +<p>"Forward, men," cried the inspector. "We must catch them, dead or +alive."</p> + +<p>In a moment, Simon had bounded up the stairs and now stood near the +official at the skylight.</p> + +<p>"How slanting that roof is!" growled the inspector. "One misstep and you +lie in the street."</p> + +<p>He carefully climbed out; Simon followed, and then they both looked +around for the escaped conspirators.</p> + +<p>"There they are!" exclaimed the steward, hastily. "Look, they have +reached the edge of the roof and are going to swing themselves over to +the neighboring roof! They are fools; the distance must be at least ten +feet. They will either fall down and smash their heads on the pavement, +or else fall into our hands."</p> + +<p>Simon had seen aright. Girdel and Fanfaro were at the edge of the roof, +and now the young man bent down and swung something his pursuers could +not make out.</p> + +<p>"Surrender!" cried the inspector, holding himself on a chimney.</p> + +<p>Fanfaro now rose upright. He made a jump and the next minute he was on +the neighboring roof.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[Pg 117]</a></span></p><p>The inspector and Simon uttered a cry of rage, and redoubled it when +they saw Fanfaro busying himself tying a stout rope to an iron hook +which he connected with another hook on the roof he had just left.</p> + +<p>Girdel now clambered to the edge of the roof, grasped the rope with both +hands, and began to work his way across to Fanfaro.</p> + +<p>"Quick, a knife!" cried the inspector.</p> + +<p>Simon handed him his pocket-knife and the policeman began to saw the +rope through. Luckily for Girdel, the work went very slow, for the knife +was as dull as the rope was thick, and Simon, who only now began to +remember that Girdel must not be killed at any price, loudly exclaimed:</p> + +<p>"Stop, inspector, are you out of your senses?"</p> + +<p>The policeman was no longer able to heed the warning. The knife had done +its duty, the rope was cut!</p> + +<p>Girdel did not fall to the pavement though. At the decisive moment +Fanfaro bent far over the roof, and with superhuman strength held on to +the rope on which Girdel was, at the same time crying to him:</p> + +<p>"Attention, the rope is cut, take your teeth."</p> + +<p>Girdel understood at once, and his mighty jaws held the rope firmly.</p> + +<p>Fanfaro had bent far forward to hinder Girdel from being dashed against +the wall, and kept in that position, until the athlete could work +himself with his hands and teeth to the edge of the roof.</p> + +<p>The roof was at length reached. Fanfaro swung his arms about Girdel, and +the next minute they both disappeared behind a tall chimney!</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[Pg 118]</a></span></p><p>"Papa Girdel, we have nothing to fear now," said Fanfaro, laughing; but +soon he thought of Louison, and he sighed heavily.</p> + +<p>"What is the matter with you, my boy?" asked Girdel, in amazement.</p> + +<p>"I will tell you some other time. Let us try to reach the street first, +for our pursuers will surely try to get into the house and begin the +hunt anew."</p> + +<p>The athlete saw he was right, and they both began their perilous flight +over the roofs. For a time everything went right, but suddenly Fanfaro +paused and said:</p> + +<p>"We are at a street corner."</p> + +<p>"That is a fatal surprise," growled Girdel; "what shall we do now?"</p> + +<p>"We must try to reach a roof-pipe and glide down."</p> + +<p>"That is easier said than done. Where will you find a roof-pipe able to +sustain my weight?"</p> + +<p>Fanfaro looked at Girdel in amazement. He had not thought of that.</p> + +<p>"Then let us try to find a skylight and get into some house," he said, +after a pause.</p> + +<p>"Suppose the window leads to an inhabited room?" observed Girdel.</p> + +<p>"Then we can explain our perilous position. We will not be likely to +tumble into a policeman's house."</p> + +<p>"Let us hope for the best," replied Girdel.</p> + +<p>At the same moment a terrific crash was heard and Fanfaro saw his +foster-father sink away. Girdel had unconsciously trodden on a +window-pane and fallen through!</p> + +<p>"That is a new way of paying visits," cried a voice which Fanfaro +thought he recognized, and while Girdel made desperate attempts to swing +himself again on the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[Pg 119]</a></span> roof, a hand armed with a tallow candle appeared +in the opening.</p> + +<p>"I will light the gentlemen," continued the voice.</p> + +<p>"Bobichel, is it you?" cried Fanfaro, joyously.</p> + +<p>"Certainly, and I ought to know you," was the reply; "really, the master +and Fanfaro."</p> + +<p>"Bobichel," said Girdel, greatly astonished, "is it really you? We +thought you were dead!"</p> + +<p>"Bah! a clown can stand a scratch; but come quickly into my room, it is +cold outside."</p> + +<p>Girdel and Fanfaro entered the small attic and Bobichel received his old +comrades cordially.</p> + +<p>"The ball did not hit you, then?" asked Girdel; "we thought you were +gone."</p> + +<p>"Almost," replied the clown; "I dragged myself a few steps further, with +the bullet in my side, and then sank down unconscious. When I awoke I +found myself in the hospital at Remiremont, where I remained until a +week ago. Later on I will give you all the details. For to-day I will +only say that I arrived in Paris yesterday and rented this room here. I +expected to find you here, and I intended to look about to-morrow +morning. What happy accident brought you here?"</p> + +<p>"In the first place, the police," replied Fanfaro; "they hunted us like +a pack of dogs a wild animal, and if we had not escaped over the roofs +we would now be behind lock and key."</p> + +<p>"But why are you pursued?" asked Bobichel, anxiously. "Do you belong to +the conspiracy of which there is so much talk?"</p> + +<p>"Probably," replied Girdel.</p> + +<p>"Is there a place for me in the conspiracy?" asked<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[Pg 120]</a></span> the clown, +vivaciously, "I am without employment just now, and if you wish to take +me in tow, I—"</p> + +<p>"We shall attend to it," said Fanfaro, cordially.</p> + +<p>"How is little Caillette getting on?" asked Bobichel, after a pause.</p> + +<p>"Very well, thank you. We shall let her know to-morrow morning that we +are safe."</p> + +<p>"Then she is in Paris, too?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly. We lived up till now in the Golden Calf. However, we must +look for other rooms now. We can speak about that to-morrow. Let us go +to sleep now, it must be very late," said Girdel; and looking at his +watch, he added: "Really it is two o'clock."</p> + +<p>"Bobichel's eyes knew that long ago," laughed Fanfaro. "Go to bed, old +friend, you are tired."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I am not tired," said the clown, yawning in spite of himself. "I +will not go to bed after I have found you again."</p> + +<p>"You must do so, Bobichel," said Fanfaro, earnestly. "You are still weak +and must husband your strength. Go calmly to bed. Girdel and I have +still a great deal to consider, and we are both glad that we need not +camp in the street."</p> + +<p>Bobichel hesitated no longer; he threw himself on his hard couch and in +less than five minutes he was fast asleep.</p> + +<p>As soon as Girdel found himself alone with Fanfaro, he said, in an +anxious voice:</p> + +<p>"Fanfaro, tell me what ails you. I know you too well not to be aware +that something extraordinary has happened. Place confidence in me; +perhaps I can help you."</p> + +<p>"If you only could," sighed Fanfaro; "but you are<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[Pg 121]</a></span> right, I will tell +you all. First, Papa Girdel, I must ask you a few questions about my +past—"</p> + +<p>"Speak; what do you wish to know?"</p> + +<p>"What did you find out about my mother?"</p> + +<p>"That she was the victim of a conflagration. She was in a farmhouse +which had been set fire to by Cossacks."</p> + +<p>"And my father?"</p> + +<p>"He died the death of a hero, fighting for his country."</p> + +<p>"As far as my memory goes," said Fanfaro, pensively, "I was in a large, +dark room. It must have been a subterranean chamber. My parents had +intrusted my little sister to my care. I held her by the hand, but +suddenly I lost her and could never find her again."</p> + +<p>"I know, I know," said Girdel, sorrowfully.</p> + +<p>"Since this evening," continued the young man, "I have been thinking of +my poor little Louison. I have not been able to tell you yet that a +respectable young girl, who earns her living by singing, was forcibly +abducted from the Golden Calf this evening."</p> + +<p>"Impossible! Monsieur Aube is a brave man," exclaimed Girdel, +impatiently.</p> + +<p>"Ah! Aube knows nothing of the matter. He is innocent. The villain who +did it is a bad man, who has already crossed our path."</p> + +<p>"And his name?"</p> + +<p>"Vicomte de Talizac."</p> + +<p>"Talizac? Has this family got a thousand devils in its service? It was +the vicomte's father, the Marquis of Fougereuse, who wished to kill us +at Sainte-Ame; his steward ran to Remiremont to get the police."</p> + +<p>"Like father like son. The proverb says that the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[Pg 122]</a></span> apple doesn't fall far +from the tree. The young girl whom Talizac abducted is named Louison, +and I—"</p> + +<p>"My poor boy, you do not really think—"</p> + +<p>"That this Louison is my poor lost sister? Yes, I fear so, Papa Girdel. +When I heard the name, I trembled in every limb, and since then the +thought haunts me. If I knew that Louison were dead I would thank God on +my knees, but it is terrible to think that she is in the power of that +scoundrel. The fact that Robeckal has a hand in the affair stamps it at +once as a piece of villany."</p> + +<p>"Robeckal is the vicomte's accomplice?" cried Girdel, springing up. "Oh, +Fanfaro, why did you not say so at once? We must not lose a minute! Ah, +now I understand all! Robeckal abducted the poor child and brought it to +Rolla. I know they are both in Paris, and I will move heaven and earth +to find them!"</p> + +<p>"May God reward you, Papa Girdel," said Fanfaro, with deep emotion. "I +will in the meantime try to find the invalid with whom the street-singer +lives, and—"</p> + +<p>"Is there nothing for Bobichel to do?" asked the clown, sitting up in +his bed.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Bobichel!" exclaimed Fanfaro, gratefully, "if you want to help us?"</p> + +<p>"Of course I do. I will accompany master to Robeckal, for I also have a +bone to pick with the scoundrel."</p> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[Pg 123]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIV" id="CHAPTER_XIV"></a>CHAPTER XIV</h2> + +<h3>LOUISE</h3> + +<p>Louison's crazy mother had passed a miserable night. Accustomed to see +Louison before going to sleep and hear her gentle voice, and not having +her cries answered on this particular evening, the poor woman, who had +not been able to move a step for years, dragged herself on her hands and +feet into the next room and shoved the white curtains aside.</p> + +<p>The painful cry of the invalid as she saw the bed empty, drowned a loud +knock at the door, and only when the knocking was repeated and a voice +imploringly cried: "Open, for God's sake, open quick!" did the burned +woman listen. Where had she heard the voice?</p> + +<p>"Quick, open—it is on account of Louison," came again from the outside. +It was Fanfaro who demanded entrance.</p> + +<p>A cry which was no longer human came from the breast of the burned +woman, and, collecting all her strength, she crawled to the door and +tore so long at the curtains which covered the pane of glass that they +came down and Fanfaro could see into the room. As soon as he saw the +position of the poor woman, he understood at once that she could not +open the door, and making up<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[Pg 124]</a></span> his mind quickly, he pressed in the +window, and the next minute he was in the room.</p> + +<p>"Where is Louison, madame?" he exclaimed.</p> + +<p>The woman did not answer; she looked steadily at him and plunged her +fingers in her gray hair.</p> + +<p>"Madame, listen to me. Louison has been abducted. Don't you know +anything?"</p> + +<p>The poor thing still remained silent, even though her lips trembled +convulsively, and the deep-set eyes gazed steadily at the young man.</p> + +<p>"Madame," began Fanfaro, desperately, "listen to my words. Can you not +remember where Louison told you she was going? You know who Louison is; +she nurses and cares for you. Can you not tell me anything?"</p> + +<p>At length a word came from the burned woman's breast.</p> + +<p>"Jacques, Jacques!" she stammered, clutching the young man's knees and +looking at him.</p> + +<p>Fanfaro trembled. Who was this horrible woman who called him by the name +of his childhood?</p> + +<p>"Louison! Jacques!" uttered the toothless lips, and hot, scalding tears +rolled over the scarred cheeks.</p> + +<p>A flood of never-before-felt emotions rushed over Fanfaro; he tenderly +bent over the poor woman, and gently said:</p> + +<p>"You called me Jacques. I was called that once. What do you know of me?"</p> + +<p>The burned woman looked hopelessly at him; she tried hard to understand +him, but her clouded mind could not at first grasp what he meant.</p> + +<p>"I will tell you what I know of the past," continued Fanfaro, slowly. "I +formerly lived at Leigoutte<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[Pg 125]</a></span> in the Vosges. My father's name was Jules, +my mother's Louise, and my little sister Louison—where is Louison?"</p> + +<p>At last a ray of reason broke from the disfigured eyes, and she +whispered:</p> + +<p>"Jacques, my dear Jacques! I am Louise, your mother, and the wife of +Jules Fougeres!"</p> + +<p>"My mother!" stammered Fanfaro with emotion, and taking the broken woman +in his arms, he fervently kissed her disfigured face. The poor woman +clung to him. The veil of madness was torn aside and stroking the +handsome face of the young man with her broken fingers, she softly +murmured:</p> + +<p>"I have you again. God be thanked!"</p> + +<p>"But where is Louison?" broke in Fanfaro, anxiously.</p> + +<p>Still the brain of the sick woman could not grasp all the new +impressions she had received, and although she looked again and again at +Fanfaro, she left the question unanswered.</p> + +<p>At any other time Fanfaro would have left the sick woman alone, but his +anxiety about Louison gave him no peace. He did not doubt a minute but +that his mother had recognized Louison long ago as her daughter, and so +he asked more urgently:</p> + +<p>"Mother, where is Louison? Your little Louison, my sister?"</p> + +<p>"Louison?" repeated the sick woman, with flaming eyes. "Oh, she is good; +she brings me fruit and flowers."</p> + +<p>"But where is she now?"</p> + +<p>"Gone," moaned the invalid.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[Pg 126]</a></span></p><p>"Gone? Where to?"</p> + +<p>"I do not know. Her bed is empty."</p> + +<p>"Then I was not deceived. She has been abducted by that scoundrel, +Talizac!"</p> + +<p>"Talizac?" repeated the maniac, with a foolish laugh. "Oh, I know him, +do not let him in; he brings unhappiness—unhappiness!"</p> + +<p>"Then he has been here?" cried Fanfaro, terror-stricken.</p> + +<p>"No, not here—in—Sachemont—I—oh! my poor head."</p> + +<p>With a heart-rending cry the poor woman sank to the ground unconscious. +The excitement of the last hour had been too much for her. Fanfaro +looked at the fainting woman, not knowing what to do. He took her in his +arms and was about to place her on the bed when the door was softly +opened and three forms glided in.</p> + +<p>"Girdel, thank Heaven!" cried Fanfaro, recognizing the athlete, "have +you found Robeckal?"</p> + +<p>"No, the wretches moved out of their former residence in the Rue +Vinaigrier, yesterday, and no one could tell us where they went."</p> + +<p>"I thought so," groaned Fanfaro, and then he hastily added: "Girdel, the +unhappy woman I hold in my arms is my mother. No, do not think I am +crazy, it is the truth; and the girl who was abducted is my sister +Louison."</p> + +<p>"Impossible!" stammered Girdel.</p> + +<p>"His mother!" came a whisper behind Fanfaro, and turning hastily round +he saw Caillette—who stood at the door with tears in her eyes—with +Bobichel, who said:</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[Pg 127]</a></span></p><p>"Caillette will take care of the invalid until we have found Louison; I +say that we move heaven and earth so that we find her."</p> + +<p>"You are right, Bobichel," said Fanfaro, and, pressing a kiss upon his +mother's forehead, he ran off with Girdel and the clown.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[Pg 128]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XV" id="CHAPTER_XV"></a>CHAPTER XV</h2> + +<h3>SWINDLED</h3> + +<p>While Montferrand and Talizac were struggling, Robeckal slipped up to +the door and winked to Louison. She hurried out and implored Robeckal to +bring her out of this miserable house. This was just what the wretch had +been waiting for, and hardly five minutes later he was in a small street +with the betrayed girl. In this street a carriage stood. Robeckal seized +the unsuspecting girl by the waist, lifted her into the carriage, and +sprang in himself. The driver whipped up the horses and away they went +at a rapid gait.</p> + +<p>"Where are you bringing me to?" cried Louison in terror, as she saw the +carriage take a wrong direction.</p> + +<p>"Keep still, my little pigeon," laughed Robeckal, "I am bringing you to +a place where it will please you."</p> + +<p>Louison for a moment was speechless; she soon recovered herself, +however, comprehended her position at a glance, hastily pulled down the +carriage window, and cried aloud for help.</p> + +<p>"Silence, minx!" exclaimed Robeckal roughly, and pulling a cloth out of +his pocket he held it in front of Louison's face.</p> + +<p>"Ah, now you are getting tame," he mockingly<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[Pg 129]</a></span> laughed, as the young +girl, moaning softly, fell back in the cushions. The carriage hurried +along and finally stopped in an obscure street of the Belleville +Quarter.</p> + +<p>Robeckal sprang out, and taking the unconscious Louison in his arms, he +carried her up the stairs of a small house, and pulled the bell, while +the carriage rolled on.</p> + +<p>"Ah, here you are; let me see the chicken!"</p> + +<p>With these words Rolla received her comrade.</p> + +<p>She put the lamp close to Louison's face, and then said:</p> + +<p>"Your Talizac hasn't got bad taste; the little one is handsome."</p> + +<p>"Is everything in order?" asked Robeckal, going up the stairs after the +"Cannon Queen."</p> + +<p>"Certainly, look for yourself."</p> + +<p>Robeckal entered an elegantly furnished room, and, placing Louison on a +sofa, he said in a commendatory tone:</p> + +<p>"It's pretty fair."</p> + +<p>"Don't you think so? Leave the rest to me; I have a grand idea."</p> + +<p>"An idea?" repeated Robeckal, doubtingly.</p> + +<p>"Yes, an idea that will bring us in a nice sum of money."</p> + +<p>"Then I am satisfied. If the little one only does not cause us any +embarrassment."</p> + +<p>"No fear of that. In the first place she should sleep."</p> + +<p>The virago poured a few drops of a watery liquid in a spoon and +approached Louison. The latter had her lips parted, but her teeth were +tightly drawn together. Robeckal carefully put the blade of his knife +between<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[Pg 130]</a></span> them, and Rolla poured the liquid down Louison's throat.</p> + +<p>"Now come downstairs with me," she said, turning to Robeckal, "and if +your vicomte comes you will praise me."</p> + +<p>The worthy pair now left Louison, who was sleeping; and after Rolla had +tightly locked the door and put the key in her pocket, they both strode +to the basement. Here they entered a small, dirty room, and Rolla had +just filled two glasses with rum when a carriage stopped in front of the +door.</p> + +<p>"Here they are," said Robeckal, hastily emptying his glass and going to +the street door, from whence came the sound of loud knocks.</p> + +<p>Shortly afterward he returned in company with Talizac and Velletri. The +vicomte's face was flushed with the wine he had been drinking; spots of +blood were on his clothes, and his walk was uneven and unsteady. +Velletri, on the other hand, showed not a trace of excitement, and his +dress was neat and select.</p> + +<p>"A glass of water!" commanded the vicomte, in a rough voice, turning to +Rolla.</p> + +<p>The fat woman looked angrily at him, and while she brought the water she +muttered to herself:</p> + +<p>"Wait now. You shall pay dearly for your coarseness."</p> + +<p>Talizac drank, and then said:</p> + +<p>"Is the little one here?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"You haven't done anything to her, have you?"</p> + +<p>"What do you take me for?" growled Rolla.</p> + +<p>"Bring me some wash water," said the vicomte, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[Pg 131]</a></span>without noticing Rolla's +sensitiveness, and turning to Velletri, he added: "Montferrand handled +me roughly; I look as if I had been torn from the gallows."</p> + +<p>"As if you won't get there one of these days," growled Rolla; and, +lighting a candle, she said aloud, "If the gentlemen wish I will conduct +them to the 'Marquise.'"</p> + +<p>"Go on; where is she?"</p> + +<p>"In the upper story—she is sleeping."</p> + +<p>"So much the better. I will lavish my affection on her, and see if she +is still as prudish."</p> + +<p>Rolla preceded the vicomte up the stairs. As she went past she exchanged +a quick glance with Robeckal, and the latter growled to himself:</p> + +<p>"There is something up with her; I will watch and help her should it be +necessary."</p> + +<p>Rolla and Talizac were now in front of the door which led to Louison's +room. The vicomte looked inquiringly at his companion and said:</p> + +<p>"Open it."</p> + +<p>"One moment, we are not as far as that yet. Just look at the little one +first."</p> + +<p>With these words Rolla opened a sliding window in the door and stepped +back, while the vicomte bent down and looked into the partly lighted +room.</p> + +<p>Louison lay fast asleep on the sofa. The pretty head rested on the left +arm, while the right hung carelessly down, and the long eyelashes lay +tightly on the slightly flushed cheeks. The small, delicate mouth was +slightly compressed, and the mass of silky hair fell in natural curls +about the white forehead.</p> + +<p>"Isn't she charming?" giggled Rolla.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[Pg 132]</a></span></p><p>Talizac was a libertine, a dissipated man, and yet when he saw the +sleeping girl, a feeling he could not account for overcame him. He +forgot where he was, that the miserable woman at his side had helped to +carry out his dastardly plans, and all his longing now was to throw +himself at Louison's feet, and say to her:</p> + +<p>"I love you dearly!"</p> + +<p>"Open," he hastily ordered.</p> + +<p>Rolla let the window fall again and looked impertinently at him.</p> + +<p>"My lord," she said, with a courtesy, "before I open this door you will +pay me twenty thousand francs."</p> + +<p>"Woman, are you mad?"</p> + +<p>"Bah! you would shout so! I said twenty thousand francs, and I mean it. +Here is my hand. Count in the money and I will get the key."</p> + +<p>"Enough of this foolish talk," cried the vicomte, in a rage. "I paid +your comrade the sum he demanded, and that settles it."</p> + +<p>"You are more stupid than I thought," laughed Rolla. "If you do not pay, +nothing will come of the affair."</p> + +<p>"But this is a swindle," said the vicomte.</p> + +<p>"Do not shout such language through the whole house," growled Rolla. "Do +you think it is a pleasure to abduct girls? Robeckal had enough trouble +with the little one and—"</p> + +<p>What Rolla said further was drowned by the noise Talizac made as he +threw himself against the door. It did not move an inch though; and +before the vicomte could try again, Robeckal hurried up with a long +knife in his hand.</p> + +<p>"What is the matter?" he angrily cried.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[Pg 133]</a></span></p><p>"Your friend the vicomte forgot his purse and thinks he can get the +girl on credit," mockingly replied Rolla.</p> + +<p>The noise brought Velletri up too; but as soon as he saw Robeckal's long +knife, he turned about again. The vicomte too became pacified.</p> + +<p>"I will give you all the money I have with me," he said, as he turned +the contents of his purse into Rolla's big hand. "Count and see how much +it is."</p> + +<p>"Ten, twenty, eight hundred francs," counted the Cannon Queen; "we shall +keep the money on account, and when you bring the rest, you can get the +key."</p> + +<p>"This is miserable," hissed Talizac, as he turned to go; "who will vouch +to me that you won't ask me again for the money?"</p> + +<p>"Our honor, vicomte," replied Rolla, grinning. "We think as much of our +reputation as high-toned people."</p> + +<p>"Scoundrels," muttered Talizac, as he went away with Velletri. "If we +could only do without them!"</p> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[Pg 134]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVI" id="CHAPTER_XVI"></a>CHAPTER XVI</h2> + +<h3>MACHIAVELLI AND COMPANY</h3> + +<p>The Marquis of Fougereuse was sitting in his study, and Simon stood +beside him.</p> + +<p>"So he has escaped from us again?" remarked the marquis frowning.</p> + +<p>"God knows how it happened, my lord; my plans were all so well laid that +I cannot understand how the affair fell through?"</p> + +<p>"Postponed is not given up," observed the nobleman; "and as Fanfaro does +not yet suspect who he really is, he can go on compromising himself. +Have you any further details with regard to the conspiracy?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, my lord, we have trustworthy witnesses, who can swear, in case of +need, that Fanfaro planned an attempt upon the sacred person of the +king."</p> + +<p>"Very good; but still the attempt must be really made, so that Fanfaro +could be convicted."</p> + +<p>"I have attended to that. One of our agents will set the harmless +attempt in motion, and the individual selected—who, by the way, has +escaped the gallows more than once—will swear in court that Fanfaro is +the intellectual head of the assassination and chief conspirator."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[Pg 135]</a></span></p><p>Before the marquis could express his satisfaction, the Marquis of +Montferrand was announced.</p> + +<p>"A visit at this hour!" cried Fougereuse, in amazement; "it is hardly +seven o'clock."</p> + +<p>"The gentleman comes on important business, as he informed me," said the +servant.</p> + +<p>"Bring the marquis in," ordered the nobleman; and as the servant went +away he hastily said to Simon: "Hide behind the curtain, and remain +there until the interview is over; perhaps you might hear something that +will further our plans." Simon nodded and disappeared, while the marquis +was led in.</p> + +<p>Arthur's father was a man of imposing presence. He looked down upon the +beggar nobility which fawned about the court, to receive money or +favors.</p> + +<p>The old man looked pale. He hastily approached the marquis and said:</p> + +<p>"Marquis, you imagine you are a faithful adherent of the monarchy, but +scandals such as take place to-day are not calculated to raise the +Fougereuse and Talizacs in the estimation of the court."</p> + +<p>"You are speaking in riddles, marquis!" exclaimed Fougereuse, in +amazement.</p> + +<p>"So much the worse for you, if your son's conduct must be told you by +another party," said the old man, sternly.</p> + +<p>"What is the matter with my son?"</p> + +<p>"The Vicomte de Talizac has dishonored himself and the cause you serve."</p> + +<p>"My son is young and wild. Has he again committed one of his stupid +follies?" asked the marquis, uneasily.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[Pg 136]</a></span></p><p>"If it only were a stupid folly! The vicomte had a quarrel last night +with my son, because my son wished to hinder him from committing a +dastardly act. My son boxed the vicomte's ears, upon which the latter +tried to stab him with a knife."</p> + +<p>"Impossible!" cried Fougereuse, in a rage.</p> + +<p>"I am speaking the truth," declared the old gentleman, calmly.</p> + +<p>"What was the nature of this dastardly act?"</p> + +<p>"The vicomte was drunk and employed people to abduct a respectable young +girl, a street-singer. My son was in the society of yours, in a +restaurant of a low order. When he heard what the affair was, he +energetically protested and tried to hinder the vicomte and his friend +Velletri from carrying out their plot. They quarrelled, the vicomte was +boxed on the ears and my son was stabbed. They both received what they +deserved. What brought me here is another matter. You are aware that I +consented to speak to my cousin the Comtesse of Salves in relation to +the marriage of her daughter with your son. From what happened last +night, I should regard it as a misfortune for Irene if she becomes the +vicomte's wife. I came here to tell you this."</p> + +<p>Fougereuse became pale and clutched the back of a chair to keep from +falling. At this moment the rustle of a silk dress was heard, and +Madeleine, the marquis's wife, entered the room.</p> + +<p>The marquis excitedly approached her.</p> + +<p>"The vicomte is a scoundrel!" he cried, in a rage; "he has dragged the +old noble name in the mud, thanks to his mother's bringing up. You have +never refused him a wish."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[Pg 137]</a></span></p><p>Madeleine's blue eyes shot gleams of fire; she looked above her husband +as if he had been empty air, and turned to the Marquis of Montferrand.</p> + +<p>"Monsieur le Marquis," she politely said, "my son desired me to offer +you his apologies."</p> + +<p>"Apology?" repeated Montferrand, coldly, "for the box on the ear he +got?"</p> + +<p>"No, my lord, but because he was so intoxicated as to raise the ire of +your son. He would not have gone so far if he had been sober. As to the +affair with the street-singer, it is not so serious as you imagine. My +son regrets very much that such a trivial affair has been the means of +causing a rupture between him and your son. He has already taken steps +to indemnify the girl for the wrong he did her, and I am positive the +little one will have her liberty restored to her before many hours have +passed. Is the word of the Marquise de Fougereuse sufficient for you, my +lord?"</p> + +<p>"Perfectly sufficient," said Montferrand, gallantly kissing the +marquise's hand.</p> + +<p>"Then we can count on seeing you to-night at our house?" asked +Madeleine. "I have a surprise in store for my friends."</p> + +<p>"Can one find out in advance the nature of it?" asked Montferrand, while +Fougereuse looked anxiously at Madeleine.</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes; his majesty has condescended to appoint the vicomte a captain +in the Life Guards with the decoration of St. Louis," said the marquise +proudly.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I call that a surprise," cried Fougereuse, more freely, and +Montferrand hastened to extend his congratulations.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[Pg 138]</a></span></p><p>"The Countess of Salves and her daughter have signified their intention +of being present," continued Madeleine, "and as soon as my son receives +his commission, the engagement of the young couple will be announced."</p> + +<p>"It is only what one might expect from the Marquise of Fougereuse," said +Montferrand politely, as he rose. "Good-by then, until this evening."</p> + +<p>The marquis accompanied the old man to the door, then returned to his +wife and excitedly asked:</p> + +<p>"Madeleine, is all this true?"</p> + +<p>Instead of answering, the marquise contemptuously shrugged her shoulders +and left the room to hunt up her son.</p> + +<p>"It is all settled," she said; "here are the twenty thousand francs you +need to silence the girl; and now try to bring honor to your new +position."</p> + +<p>Madeleine placed a pocket-book on the table and went away. Talizac +laughed in his sleeve. He did not think he could obtain the money so +easily.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[Pg 139]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVII" id="CHAPTER_XVII"></a>CHAPTER XVII</h2> + +<h3>LOUISON</h3> + +<p>Toward noon Louison awoke from the lethargic sleep in which Rolla's +liquid had thrown her, and her first look fell upon the virago, who was +sitting in a half-drunken condition near the window. The young girl +unconsciously uttered a cry when she saw the repulsive woman, and this +cry aroused Rolla from out of her dreams about well-filled brandy +bottles into reality.</p> + +<p>"Well, my pigeon, how goes it?" she asked, grinning.</p> + +<p>"My head hurts," replied Louison faintly, and throwing an anxious look +about the strange apartment, she timidly added: "Where am I?"</p> + +<p>"Where are you? Among good people certainly, who have become interested +in you and will do what's right."</p> + +<p>Louison was silent and tried to collect her thoughts. But it was no use, +she had to close her eyes again from exhaustion.</p> + +<p>"Ah, you are sensible I see; that pleases me," said Rolla, giggling. +"Robeckal thought you would stamp and cry, but I said right away: 'The +little one is smart, she will not throw her fortune away.' What is the +use of virtue, anyway? It hardly brings one dry bread, so<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[Pg 140]</a></span> the sooner +you throw it overboard the better it is. Oh, you will make your way, +never fear. Your face is handsome, and who knows but that you will have +your own elegant house and carriage one of these days? The little +vicomte is certainly no Adonis, with his high shoulder, but one cannot +have everything and—"</p> + +<p>Louison had listened to Rolla's words with increasing loathing, and when +she heard the name of the vicomte pronounced, her memory returned to +her. Hastily springing up, she uttered a loud cry, and clutching Rolla +tightly about the shoulder she exclaimed:</p> + +<p>"Let me go or you shall be sorry for it!"</p> + +<p>Rolla looked at the street-singer with a foolish laugh, and, shaking her +thick head, she laconically said:</p> + +<p>"Stay here."</p> + +<p>"But I will not stay here," declared Louison firmly. "I will go away! +Either you let me go or I shall cry for help. I am a respectable girl, +and you ought to be ashamed to treat me in this way."</p> + +<p>"So you—are a respectable girl," said the woman, in a maudlin voice. +"What conceit—you have! You might have been so yesterday, but +to-day—try it—tell the people that you spent a few hours in the Cannon +Queen's house in Belleville and are still a respectable girl. Ha! ha! +They will laugh at you, or spit in your face. No, no, my pretty dear, no +one will believe that fairy story, and if an angel from heaven came down +and took rooms in my house, it would be ruined. Give in, my chicken, and +don't show the white feather! No one will believe that you are +respectable and virtuous, and I think you ought to save yourself the +trouble. It is too late now."</p> + +<p>"You lie!" cried Louison, in desperation.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[Pg 141]</a></span></p><p>"So—I lie—it is about time that I shut your bold mouth," growled the +virago, and raising her voice, she cried: "Robeckal, bring me the +bottle."</p> + +<p>The next minute hurried steps were heard coming up the stairs, and Rolla +hastened to open the locked door. It was Robeckal, who entered with a +small bottle in his hand. When Louison saw him she turned deathly pale, +and running to the window she burst the panes with her clinched fist and +called loudly for help.</p> + +<p>"Minx!" hissed Robeckal, forcibly holding her back and throwing her to +the ground.</p> + +<p>With Rolla's assistance he now poured the contents of the bottle down +her throat. When he tried to open the tightly compressed lips, Louison +bit him in the finger. He uttered an oath, put a piece of wood between +her teeth, and triumphantly exclaimed:</p> + +<p>"For the next few hours you are done for, you little hussy."</p> + +<p>"If it were only not too much," said Rolla, as Louison, groaning loudly, +sank backward and closed her eyes.</p> + +<p>"Have no fear; I know my methods," laughed Robeckal. "I am not so +foolish as to kill the little one before we have the vicomte's money in +our hands. She will sleep a few hours, and wake up tamed. Come, let us +put her on the sofa and leave her alone."</p> + +<p>The worthy pair laid the unconscious girl on the sofa and went away. +Rolla, on closing the door, put the key in her pocket. They began to +play cards in the basement, a pursuit which agreed with them, and at the +same time swallowed deep draughts of brandy.</p> + +<p>Toward six o'clock the vicomte entered. He threw<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[Pg 142]</a></span> a well-filled +pocket-book on the table, and in a tone of command said: "The key!"</p> + +<p>"First we will count," growled Rolla; and opening the pocket-book with +her fat hands she passed the contents in review.</p> + +<p>"It is correct," she finally said; and taking the key out of her pocket +she handed it to the vicomte.</p> + +<p>As soon as the latter had left the room, Rolla shoved the pocket-book in +her dirty dress, and hastily said:</p> + +<p>"Come, Robeckal, the little one might make a noise. Let him see how he +will get through with her."</p> + +<p>Robeckal acquiesced, and they both quickly left the house, leaving all +the doors open behind them.</p> + +<p>They had hardly been gone, when a cry of rage rang through the house, +and immediately afterward the vicomte burst into the room.</p> + +<p>"You have deceived me," he cried, in a rage; "the window is open and the +girl is gone!"</p> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[Pg 143]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVIII" id="CHAPTER_XVIII"></a>CHAPTER XVIII</h2> + +<h3>THE CANAL</h3> + +<p>By what miracle had Louison escaped? In his anxiety to make the young +girl harmless, Robeckal had given her such a strong dose that the +narcotic had just the opposite effect, and before an hour had passed, a +hammering and beating of her temples awakened her again. The excited +state in which she was made her unable to grasp a clear thought; but one +thing stood plainly before her—she must leave this horrible house at +any price.</p> + +<p>Slowly rising, she felt for the door; it was locked. She then walked +softly to the window and looked at the street. It was deserted and empty +of pedestrians, a fog hung over it, and if Louison could only reach the +street she would be safe.</p> + +<p>Through the broken pane the fresh air entered, and she tried then to +collect her thoughts. The horrible woman had spoken about Belleville; if +she were only in the street she would soon reach the Boulevard du +Temple, and then—further than this she did not get with her plans. +Away, only away, the rest would take care of itself.</p> + +<p>What had the virago said? "Too late, too late, too<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[Pg 144]</a></span> late!" The horrible +words rang in her ears like a death-knell; every pulse-beat repeated, +"Too late!"</p> + +<p>Pressing her hand to her temples, Louison began to sob. Just then the +coarse laughter of her torturers sounded from the basement and her tears +immediately dried.</p> + +<p>Softly, very softly, she opened the window, stood on the sill and swung +herself to the outer sill. A pole which served to support a grapevine +gave her a hold. She carefully climbed down its side, reached the street +and ran as if pursued by the Furies.</p> + +<p>The fog grew denser, and more than once Louison knocked against a wall +or ran against passers-by, but these obstacles did not hinder her from +running on.</p> + +<p>How long she had been going in this way she did not know, but suddenly a +blast of cold air grazed her burning face, and looking up she perceived +that she had reached the Canal St. Martin. She had only to cross the +bridge to reach those quarters of the great city which were known to +her, but still she did not do it. A short while she stood there not +knowing what to do. Then she strode on, timidly looking around her and +walked down the damp stone steps leading to the water.</p> + +<p>For a long time she stood on the last step. All around everything was +still, and only the monotonous ripple of the waves reached the deserted +girl's ears. With her arms folded across her bosom, she gazed at the +black waters; the murmuring waves played about her feet and then she +paused so long—long—</p> + +<p class="tbrk"> </p> + +<p>Robeckal and Rolla hurried through the streets with feverish haste. The +ground burned under their feet, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[Pg 145]</a></span> they did not dare to breathe before +they had turned their back upon the capital. They were just turning into +the Rue St. Denis, when an iron fist was laid upon Robeckal's shoulder, +and forced the frightened man to stand still.</p> + +<p>"What does this mean?" he angrily cried, as he turned around, "a—"</p> + +<p>He paused, for he had recognized Fanfaro. Bobichel had clutched Rolla at +the same time, and shaking her roughly, he cried:</p> + +<p>"Monster, where is the street-singer?"</p> + +<p>"What do I know of a street-singer?" cried Rolla, boldly. "Let me go or +I shall cry out."</p> + +<p>"Cry away," replied Bobichel. "You must know best yourself whether you +desire the interference of the police or not."</p> + +<p>Rolla thought of the well-filled pocket-book and kept silent. Robeckal, +in the meantime, had almost died of strangulation, for Fanfaro's fingers +pressed his throat together; and when he was asked if he intended to +answer, he could only nod with his head.</p> + +<p>"Where is Louison?" asked Fanfaro, in a voice of thunder.</p> + +<p>"No. 16 Rue de Belleville."</p> + +<p>"Alone?"</p> + +<p>"I do not know."</p> + +<p>"Scoundrels, God help you, if all is not right," hissed Fanfaro, "bring +us quickly to the house named."</p> + +<p>"Oh, it is very easy to find," began Rolla, but Bobichel threatened her +with his fist and cried:</p> + +<p>"So much the better for you, forward march!"</p> + +<p>Robeckal and the Cannon Queen, held in the grips of Fanfaro and the +clown, proceeded on the way to <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[Pg 146]</a></span>Belleville. They stopped in front of No. +16, and it required the application of force to get them to enter.</p> + +<p>Rolla, in advance of the others, went to the top story. The door was +wide open and the room empty.</p> + +<p>"Really, he has taken her along?" she exclaimed in amazement.</p> + +<p>"Of whom are you speaking?" asked Fanfaro, trembling with fear.</p> + +<p>"Of whom else but the little vicomte."</p> + +<p>"His name?"</p> + +<p>"Talizac."</p> + +<p>"The villain!" muttered Fanfaro to himself.</p> + +<p>Bobichel was still holding Rolla by the arm. His gaze, roving about the +room, had espied a note on the table. Rolla saw it, too, but before she +could take it the clown had called Fanfaro's attention to it.</p> + +<p>"You have swindled me," the young man read; "you have helped her to +escape, confound you!"</p> + +<p>"Thank God all is not lost yet," whispered Fanfaro, handing Bobichel the +paper.</p> + +<p>"One moment," said the clown; "I have an idea which I would like to +carry out."</p> + +<p>With a quick movement Bobichel threw Robeckal to the ground, bound him +with a thick rope and threw him into a closet. He locked it and putting +the key in his pocket, he turned to Rolla.</p> + +<p>"March, away with you," he said, roughly, "and do not attempt to free +him; he can ponder over his sins."</p> + +<p>Rolla hurried to leave the house. If Robeckal died she would be the sole +possessor of the twenty thousand francs. Bobichel and Fanfaro left the +house likewise, and Robeckal remained crying behind.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[Pg 147]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIX" id="CHAPTER_XIX"></a>CHAPTER XIX</h2> + +<h3>SPLENDOR</h3> + +<p>The Fougereuse mansion was resplendent with light. Madeleine intended to +celebrate the vicomte's appointment to a captaincy in a fitting way, and +hundreds of invitations had been issued and accepted.</p> + +<p>One fine carriage after another rolled up; the marquise, dressed in +princely style, received her guests in the fairy-like parlors, and soon +a brilliant assembly crowded the rooms.</p> + +<p>The marquis and his wife looked proudly at the vicomte, who, however, +could hardly restrain his disappointment. He did not know what hurt him +most, the loss of Louison or the twenty thousand francs, and he railed +against himself for being so foolish as to imagine that Robeckal and +Rolla would keep their word.</p> + +<p>"Do not frown so," whispered Madeleine to her son, "here comes Irene."</p> + +<p>The vicomte bit his lips until they bled, and then approached Irene de +Salves, who had just entered, accompanied by her mother and the Marquis +de Montferrand.</p> + +<p>Irene was dazzlingly beautiful, and her rich dress enhanced her charming +appearance. There was, however,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[Pg 148]</a></span> a melancholy look in her dark eyes, but +her voice sounded clear and strong as she replied to the vicomte's +greeting.</p> + +<p>Brought up in the traditions of the nobility, Irene did not think of +resisting her mother when the latter told her that her engagement with +the Vicomte de Talizac would be announced that evening. Irene loved +Fanfaro with all the fervor of her soul, but she would never have dared +to tell her mother of her attachment for the acrobat.</p> + +<p>When the vicomte pressed her hand upon his arm, she trembled violently, +and a gleam of rage shot out of the dark eyes, while Talizac thought to +himself that the young girl had every reason to be proud of him. Captain +in the Life Guards and Knight of St. Louis. The more he considered it +the more he came to the conclusion that he could demand more, and only +the circumstance that the young countess possessed several millions +caused him to submit to the match.</p> + +<p>The first notes of a polonaise were heard now, and the guests, grouping +themselves in pairs, strode through the wide halls. A quadrille followed +the polonaise, and it was a charming sight to see all these graceful +women and young girls dance. Irene kept up a cross-fire of words with +the vicomte and Velletri. Talizac had just whispered some gallant +sentence to her, when a high officer of the Royal Life Guards appeared +and handed the vicomte his commission.</p> + +<p>Great enthusiasm arose. The vicomte and his parents were congratulated +from all sides, and the young girls envied Irene, for it was an open +secret that she would be the future Vicomtesse de Talizac.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[Pg 149]</a></span></p><p>Arthur de Montferrand was the only one who could not force himself to +congratulate the vicomte. It was only on his father's account that he +came at all, and while Talizac was being surrounded on all sides, +Arthur's thoughts went back to the scene of the previous evening. He saw +Louison's pleading looks, he heard her contemptuous words, and could +never forgive himself for having given her good reason to believe that +he was one of Talizac's accomplices.</p> + +<p>The vicomte's voice aroused him from his dreams.</p> + +<p>"Well, Arthur," said Talizac laughing, "have you no congratulation for +me?"</p> + +<p>Arthur looked penetratingly at the vicomte, and in a low voice replied:</p> + +<p>"Vicomte, if I cannot discover any traces of the punishment you received +yesterday on your cheeks, I hope to be able to pay up for what I have +lost. For to-day you must excuse me."</p> + +<p>Deathly pale, Talizac looked at Montferrand, but before he had a chance +to reply, a commotion was heard in the corridor, followed by a war of +words.</p> + +<p>The marquis looked uneasily at the door, and was about to give an order +to a servant to inquire after the cause of the disturbance, when the +folding doors were thrown open and a man who carried the lifeless, +dripping form of a young girl in his arms rushed into the ballroom.</p> + +<p>"Fanfaro!" cried Montferrand in amazement.</p> + +<p>Fanfaro, for it was really he, laid the young girl's body tenderly upon +the ground, and, turning to the assembled guests, cried with threatening +voice:</p> + +<p>"Ladies and gentlemen, here is the corpse of a young girl whom the +Vicomte de Talizac murdered."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[Pg 150]</a></span></p><p>The women uttered cries of terror and the men looked threateningly at +Talizac, who was trembling and trying hard to appear indifferent.</p> + +<p>The Marquis of Fougereuse was as white as a spectre. Was this Fanfaro +going to pursue him forever?</p> + +<p>"Who is the bold fellow?" he audaciously said. "Throw him out."</p> + +<p>"Don't be so quick, marquis," said Fanfaro earnestly; "it is a question +of a terrible crime, and your son the Vicomte de Talizac is the +criminal! Oh, the shame of it! Does he think that because he is a +nobleman he can do what he pleases? This young girl lived modestly and +plainly; she was pure and innocent. The Vicomte de Talizac regarded her +as his prey. He bribed a couple of scoundrels and had the poor child +abducted.</p> + +<p>"Half crazed with horror and despairing of humanity, the victim sought +peace and forgetfulness in suicide. Marquis, do you know of any infamy +equal to this?"</p> + +<p>Proud, with head erect like an avenger of innocence, Fanfaro stood in +the centre of the room and his eyes shot forth rays of contempt.</p> + +<p>Montferrand hurried toward him and cordially shook him by the hand.</p> + +<p>"Is she dead—is she really dead?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"I fear so," replied the young man, slowly, "yet I do not like to give +up all hope. Is there no lady here who will take care of the poor child +and try to soften the vicomte's crime?" continued Fanfaro, raising his +voice. "Does not a heart beat under these silks and satins?"</p> + +<p>From the group of timid ladies came a tall figure clad in a white silk +dress, and kneeling next to Louison she softly said:</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[Pg 151]</a></span></p><p>"Here I am."</p> + +<p>"The farce is becoming uproarious," cried the Marquis of Fougereuse, +nervously laughing.</p> + +<p>"Do not call it a farce; it is a drama, a terrible drama, my lord," +replied Fanfaro, earnestly. "Ask your son, who is leaning pale and +trembling against the wall, whether I am telling you the truth or not?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, it is a lie!" exclaimed Talizac, hoarsely.</p> + +<p>"It is no lie," declared Arthur de Montferrand, stepping in front of +Talizac. "Vicomte, you have a bad memory, and if my hand had not +fortunately stamped your face you might have even denied it to my face. +Look at the vicomte, gentlemen; the traces which burn on his pale cheeks +he owes to me, for I was present when he made the first attempt to +scandalize this poor girl. I chastised him, and he stabbed me."</p> + +<p>"He lies! He is crazy!" cried the vicomte, in despair.</p> + +<p>But none of those who had a quarter of an hour before overwhelmed him +with congratulations condescended to look at the wretch, and with a moan +Talizac sank back in a chair.</p> + +<p>In the meantime Irene had busied herself with Louison, and now +triumphantly exclaimed:</p> + +<p>"She lives, she breathes, she can still be saved! Mamma," she said, +turning quickly to her mother, "we will take the poor child home with us +and nurse her."</p> + +<p>The countess assented with tears in her eyes; she was proud of her +daughter.</p> + +<p>"The poor thing is my sister," said Fanfaro in a low voice to Irene.</p> + +<p>Irene bent over Louison and kissed her pale forehead. This was her +answer to Fanfaro's information.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[Pg 152]</a></span></p><p>Talizac had now recovered his senses. He tore open the door and angrily +cried:</p> + +<p>"Is there no one here who will show this impudent fellow out? Come in, +lackeys and servants; lay hands on him!"</p> + +<p>"I would advise no one to touch me," said Fanfaro, coldly.</p> + +<p>At this moment a hand was laid on Fanfaro's shoulder, and a deep voice +said:</p> + +<p>"In the name of the king, you are my prisoner!"</p> + +<p>As if struck by lightning, the young man gazed upon an old man who wore +a dark uniform with a white and gold scarf. All the entrances to the +ballroom were occupied by soldiers, and Fanfaro saw at once that he was +lost.</p> + +<p>"My lord marquis," said the officer, turning to the master of the house, +"I regret very much to disturb you, but I must obey my order. Less than +an hour ago a man with a knife in his hand entered the apartments of his +majesty and said that he intended to kill the king."</p> + +<p>A cry of horror followed these words, and, pale and trembling, the +guests crowded about the officer, who continued after a short pause:</p> + +<p>"Asked about his accomplice, the would-be murderer declared that he was +an agent for a secret society whose chief the prisoner Fanfaro is."</p> + +<p>"Oh, what a monstrous lie!" exclaimed Fanfaro, beside himself with rage, +while Irene de Salves rose upright and with flaming eyes said:</p> + +<p>"He a murderer? Impossible!"</p> + +<p>"Prudence," whispered Arthur to the young woman, "what I can do for him +I will."</p> + +<p>"Save my sister, Irene," said Fanfaro softly, and <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[Pg 153]</a></span>sorrowfully turning +to the official, he declared with a loud voice: "Sir, I must deny the +accusation that I am a murderer. I have openly fought against the +present government, but have never employed any assassin! Do your duty, +I will follow you without resistance and calmly await the judge's +sentence."</p> + +<p>With head erect Fanfaro strode toward the door and disappeared in +company with the soldiers. Montferrand approached Talizac and hissed in +his ear:</p> + +<p>"It might be doing you an honor, but if there is no other remedy I will +fight a duel with you to rid the world of a scoundrel—I await your +seconds."</p> + +<p>"You shall pay for this," said the vicomte, "I will kill you."</p> + +<p>Half an hour later the splendid halls of the Fougereuse mansion were +deserted; the guests hurried to leave a house where such things had +occurred.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[Pg 154]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XX" id="CHAPTER_XX"></a>CHAPTER XX</h2> + +<h3>IN LEIGOUTTE</h3> + +<p>Like so many other places, Leigoutte had risen from the ashes after the +war was over. A great sensation was caused one day by the appearance in +the village of an old gray-headed man. He said he intended to erect a +new building on the spot where the school and tavern house formerly +stood. The old man paid without any haggling the price asked for the +ground, and shortly afterward workmen were seen busily carting the ruins +away and digging a foundation.</p> + +<p>The villagers thought a new and elegant house would replace the old one +now, but they deceived themselves. Strange to say, the new building +resembled the old one even to the smallest details. In the basement was +the kitchen from which a door led to the low narrow tavern-room, and in +the upper story were two bedrooms and the large schoolroom.</p> + +<p>When the house was finished, a sign half destroyed by fire was fastened +to one end, and the peasants swore it was the sign of the former +innkeeper, Jules Fougeres. In the right corner the words "To the welfare +of France" could be clearly seen.</p> + +<p>The new owner did not live in the house himself. He<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[Pg 155]</a></span> gave it free of +charge to the poorest family in the village, with the condition that he +be allowed to live there a few weeks each year. A schoolmaster was soon +found in the person of a former sergeant, and as Pierre Labarre—such +was the name of the new owner—undertook to look out for the teacher's +salary, the inhabitants of Leigoutte had every reason to be thankful to +him. When Pierre came to the village, which was generally in spring, the +big and little ones surrounded him, and the old man would smile at the +children, play with them, and assemble the parents at evening in the +large tavern-room, and relate stories of the Revolution.</p> + +<p>He had come this spring to Leigoutte and the children gleefully greeted +him. On the evening of a March day he was sitting pensively at the +window of the tavern, when he suddenly saw two curious figures coming up +the road. One of the figures, apparently a young, strong girl, had her +arm about a bent old woman, who could hardly walk along, and had to be +supported by her companion.</p> + +<p>Pierre felt his heart painfully moved when he saw the two women, and +following an indefinable impulse he left the room and seated himself on +a bench in front of the house.</p> + +<p>The wanderers did not notice him. When they were opposite the house the +old woman raised her head, and Pierre now saw a fearfully disfigured +face. The woman whispered a few words to her companion; the young girl +nodded and began to walk in the direction of the school-house. The +paralyzed woman climbed the few steps which led into the house, and +walking along the corridor she entered the parlor.</p> + +<p>Pierre could not sit still any more. He noiselessly arose<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[Pg 156]</a></span> and entered +the corridor. The parlor door was wide open, and he saw the gray-haired +woman sitting at a table and looking all around her. Her small, +fleshless lips parted, and half aloud she muttered:</p> + +<p>"Where can Jules be? The dinner has been ready a long time, the children +are getting impatient, and still he does not come! Come here, Jacques; +father will be here soon. Louison, do not cry or I shall scold! Ah, +little fool, I did not mean it: be quiet, he will soon be here!"</p> + +<p>Pierre Labarre felt his heart stand still. The crippled, disfigured +woman who sat there could be none other than Louise, Jules's wife! But +who could her companion be?</p> + +<p>No longer able to control himself, he softly entered the room. The young +girl immediately perceived him, and folding her hands, she said, in a +pleading tone:</p> + +<p>"Do not get angry, sir! We shall not trouble you long."</p> + +<p>"Make yourselves at home," replied Pierre, cordially; "but tell me," he +continued, "who is this woman?"</p> + +<p>Caillette, for she was the young woman, put her finger to her forehead, +and looked significantly at the old woman.</p> + +<p>"She is crazy," she whispered.</p> + +<p>Pierre Labarre laid his hand over his eyes to hide his tears, but he +could not prevent a nervous sob from shaking his broad frame.</p> + +<p>"Tell me," he repeated softly, "who is the woman?"</p> + +<p>"Ah! the poor woman has gone through a great deal of trouble," replied +Caillette, sorrowfully. "She has lost her husband and her children, and +was badly injured at a fire. Only a few weeks ago she could hardly move +a limb, but since a short time her condition has wonderfully improved, +and she can now walk, though not without assistance."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[Pg 157]</a></span></p><p>"But her name—what is she called?"</p> + +<p>"Ah, my dear sir, I do not know her real name; the people who live in +her neighborhood in Paris call her the 'Burned Woman,' and Louison calls +her mamma or mother."</p> + +<p>"Louison? Who is that?"</p> + +<p>"A young girl who has taken care of her. She earns her living through +singing, and is a charming girl. Her brother is named Fanfaro. Ah! it is +a curious story, full of misfortune and crime."</p> + +<p>Pierre was silent for a moment, and then asked:</p> + +<p>"Who is this Fanfaro whom you just spoke about?"</p> + +<p>Caillette did not answer immediately. Fanfaro was to her the incarnation +of all that was good and noble in the world, but of course she could not +tell the old man this.</p> + +<p>"Fanfaro is a foundling," she finally said; "of course he is a man now, +and just as energetic and brave as any one."</p> + +<p>"Fanfaro, Fanfaro," repeated the old man, pensively; "where have I heard +the name before?"</p> + +<p>The maniac now raised her eyes, and, seeing Pierre, she politely said:</p> + +<p>"Excuse the plain service, sir; it is very little, but comes from our +hearts."</p> + +<p>Pierre Labarre uttered a cry of astonishment.</p> + +<p>"Louise—Louise Fougeres!" he cried, beside himself.</p> + +<p>The invalid looked sharply at Pierre, and tremblingly said:</p> + +<p>"Who called me? Who pronounced my name just now?"</p> + +<p>"I, Louise," replied Pierre. "Louise Fougeres, do you<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[Pg 158]</a></span> not recollect +your husband, Jules, and your children, Jacques and Louison?"</p> + +<p>"Of course I remember them. Ah, how glad I would be if I could see them +again! Where can Jules be? and Jacques—Jacques—"</p> + +<p>The maniac was silent, and ran her crippled fingers through her gray +hair, as if she were trying to recollect something.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I know," she murmured pensively, "Louison is here, she sleeps in a +neat white bed, but she is away now—and—and—"</p> + +<p>Expectantly Pierre gazed at the poor woman, who was palpably confounding +imagination with reality, and after a pause she continued:</p> + +<p>"Oh, the door opens now, and Jacques enters! Welcome, my dear child. How +handsome you have become. Thank God, I have you again!"</p> + +<p>"Has she really found Jacques again?" asked Labarre, tremblingly, and +turning to Caillette. "Is he living?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, he is the same person as Fanfaro."</p> + +<p>"God be praised. And Louison?"</p> + +<p>"Louison has been abducted and—"</p> + +<p>"Abducted? By whom?"</p> + +<p>"By the Vicomte of Talizac."</p> + +<p>"By Talizac? O my God!" stammered Labarre, in horror.</p> + +<p>Louise, too, had heard the name, and raising herself with difficulty, +she whispered:</p> + +<p>"Talizac? He must know it! Jacques—the box, O God! where is the box?"</p> + +<p class="center"> * * * * *</p> + +<p>How did these two women get to Leigoutte?</p> + +<p>When Fanfaro went to search for Louison, his mother<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[Pg 159]</a></span> had remained behind +under the protection of Caillette. The day passed, night came, but +neither Fanfaro, Girdel nor Bobichel returned. The maniac screamed and +cried. She wanted to see Jacques, and Caillette could hardly calm her. +Finally long past midnight she fell into a slumber, and Caillette, too, +exhausted by the excitement of the last few hours, closed her eyes.</p> + +<p>When she awoke it was daylight. She glanced at the maniac's bed. +Merciful Heaven, it was empty!</p> + +<p>Trembling with fear, Caillette hurried downstairs and asked the +janitress whether she had seen anything of the "Burned Woman." The +janitress looked at her in amazement and said she had thought at once +when she saw the old crippled woman creeping down the stairs two hours +before that all was not right in her head.</p> + +<p>"But she cannot walk at all, how could she get out?" groaned Caillette. +"Suppose Fanfaro came now and found that his mother was gone?"</p> + +<p>"A milk-wagon stopped in front of the door," said the janitress, "and +the driver let the old woman get in. I thought it had been arranged +beforehand and was all right."</p> + +<p>Caillette wrung her hands and then hurried to the station house and +announced the disappearance of the "Burned Woman."</p> + +<p>If her father and Bobichel, even Fanfaro, had come, she would have felt +at ease. But no one showed himself, and Caillette, who knew that Girdel +and Fanfaro were wanted, did not dare to make any inquiries.</p> + +<p>She ran about in desperation. The only clew was the milkman, but where +could she find him? Caillette passed hours of dreadful anxiety, and when +a ragpicker told her<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[Pg 160]</a></span> that he saw a woman who answered her description +pass the Barriere d'Italie on a milk-wagon, she thought him a messenger +of God.</p> + +<p>As quick as she could go, she ran to the place designated; a hundred +times on the way, she said to herself that the wagon must have gone on; +and yet it struck like a clap of thunder when she found it was really +so. What now? Caillette asked from house to house; every one had seen +the woman, but she had gone in a different direction; and so the poor +child wandered onward, right and left, forward and backward, always +hoping to discover them. Finally, after she had been thirty-six hours on +the way, she found the maniac in a little tavern by the roadside. She +was crouching near the threshold, and smiled when she saw Caillette.</p> + +<p>"God be praised! I have found you," cried the young girl, sobbing; and +when the hostess, who had been standing in the background, heard these +words, she joyfully said:</p> + +<p>"I am glad I did not leave the poor woman go; she spoke so funny, I +thought at once that she had run away from her family."</p> + +<p>"What did she say?" asked Caillette, while the "Burned Woman" clung to +her.</p> + +<p>"Oh, she asked for bread, and then inquired the way to the Vosges."</p> + +<p>"Yes, to the Vosges," said the maniac, hastily.</p> + +<p>"But, mother, what should we do in the Vosges?" asked Caillette, in +surprise.</p> + +<p>"To Leigoutte—Leigoutte," repeated the maniac, urgently.</p> + +<p>"Leigoutte—that is Fanfaro's home!" exclaimed the young girl, hastily.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[Pg 161]</a></span></p><p>"Not Fanfaro—Jacques," corrected the old woman.</p> + +<p>"But what should we do in Leigoutte, mother?"</p> + +<p>"The box—Jacques—Talizac—the papers," the woman replied.</p> + +<p>And so we find Caillette and her patient, after weary wanderings, in +Leigoutte. The young girl had sold, on the way, a gold cross, the only +jewel she possessed, to pay the expenses of the journey. Charitable +peasants had given the women short rides at times; kind-hearted farmers' +wives had offered them food and drink, or else a night's lodging. Yet +Caillette thanked God when she arrived at Leigoutte. What would happen +now, she did not know. Nothing could induce the maniac to return, and +the young girl thought it best not to oppose her wish. Little by little, +she began to suspect herself that the journey might be important for +Fanfaro; who could tell what thoughts were agitating the mad woman's +brain; and, perhaps, the unexpected recovery of her son might have +awakened recollections of the past.</p> + +<p>"I must speak to old Laison," said the "Burned Woman," suddenly; "he +must help me."</p> + +<p>She arose, shoved Caillette and Pierre aside, and hobbled toward the +back door. Opening it, she reached the open field, and without looking +around, she walked on and on. Pierre and Caillette followed her +unnoticed. She had now reached the spot on which the old farmhouse of +Laison stood, and, looking timidly around her, she turned to the right.</p> + +<p>Suddenly she uttered a loud scream, and when Caillette and Pierre +hurried in affright to her, they found the maniac deathly pale, leaning +against a hollow tree, while her crippled fingers held a box, which she +had apparently<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[Pg 162]</a></span> dug out of the earth; for close to the hollow tree was a +deep hole, and the box was covered with dirt and earth.</p> + +<p>"There it is!" she cried to Pierre, and from the eyes in which madness +had shone before, reason now sparkled. "Jacques is not my son, but +Vicomte de Talizac, and Louison is the Marquise of Fougereuse—here are +the proofs."</p> + +<p>She clutched a number of papers from the box and held them triumphantly +uplifted; but then nature demanded her right, and, exhausted by the +great excitement, she sank senseless into Caillette's arms.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[Pg 163]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXI" id="CHAPTER_XXI"></a>CHAPTER XXI</h2> + +<h3>EXCITED</h3> + +<p>The street-singer was resting in the beautiful boudoir of the young +countess, Irene de Salves. The poor child lay under lace covers, and +Irene's tenderness and attachment had banished her melancholy.</p> + +<p>After the terrible scene in the Fougereuse mansion, the young countess, +with the help of Arthur, brought Louison to a carriage, and, to Madame +Ursula's horror, she gave the young girl her own room and bed. For +Fanfaro's sister nothing could be good enough, and the young countess +made Louison as comfortable as possible.</p> + +<p>After the young girl had rested a few hours, she felt much stronger, but +with this feeling the recollection of what she had gone through +returned, and in a trembling voice she asked Irene:</p> + +<p>"Who saved me?"</p> + +<p>"Don't you know?" asked the countess, blushing. "It was Fanfaro."</p> + +<p>"Fanfaro? Who is that?"</p> + +<p>Irene looked at her in astonishment. Was it possible that Louison did +not know her own brother, or had the excitement of the last days crazed +her mind?</p> + +<p>"Won't you tell me who Fanfaro is?" asked Louison, urgently.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[Pg 164]</a></span></p><p>"Don't you really know your own brother?" asked Irene in surprise.</p> + +<p>"My brother?"</p> + +<p>Louison laid her hand on her head and became thoughtful.</p> + +<p>"I had a brother once," she said, pensively; "he was a few years older +than I, and did everything to please me, but it is long ago since I saw +Jacques—many, many years."</p> + +<p>"Jacques and Fanfaro are identical," replied Irene, softly.</p> + +<p>She had been told this by her cousin Arthur, who took a great interest +in the brother and sister.</p> + +<p>"Fanfaro," repeated Louison, pensively. "Ah! now I know who this man is. +He belongs to a company of acrobats who give performances in the Place +du Chateau d'Eau. They have all such peculiar names. One of them is +named Firejaws—"</p> + +<p>"Perfectly right; he is Fanfaro's foster-father, and Fanfaro is your +brother."</p> + +<p>"Who told you so?"</p> + +<p>"He, himself; he begged me to care for his sister."</p> + +<p>"But why does he not come? I long to see him."</p> + +<p>Irene, too, longed to see Fanfaro.</p> + +<p>"Let me speak a little about him," said Louison, vivaciously; "perhaps +Fanfaro is identical with Jacques; he must be twenty years of age."</p> + +<p>"That may be so."</p> + +<p>"And then he must be very handsome. Jacques was a very pretty boy."</p> + +<p>"That is correct, too," replied Irene, blushing.</p> + +<p>"Has he black eyes and dark, curly hair?"</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[Pg 165]</a></span></p><p>"I think so," stammered Irene, who knew all these details, yet did not +wish to confess it.</p> + +<p>"You think so," repeated Louison; "you haven't looked carefully at him?"</p> + +<p>"I—I—" stammered the countess, in confusion; "what do you look at me +for?"</p> + +<p>A smile flitted across Louison's lips, but she kept silent, and Irene +thanked God, as Madame Ursula now came in and softly said:</p> + +<p>"Irene, a word."</p> + +<p>"What is the matter?" asked the countess, hastily.</p> + +<p>"There is a man outside who would like to speak to you."</p> + +<p>"His name?"</p> + +<p>"Bobichel—"</p> + +<p>"Bobichel? Ah! bring him in the next room directly!"</p> + +<p>Madame Ursula nodded and disappeared, while Irene turned to Louison and +said in explanation:</p> + +<p>"Excuse me a moment; I will not leave you long alone."</p> + +<p>She went to the next room, where Bobichel was already awaiting her. He +did not look as jolly as usual, and, twirling his cap between his +fingers in an embarrassed way, he began:</p> + +<p>"Mademoiselle, excuse me for disturbing you, but—"</p> + +<p>"You come from him—from Fanfaro?" said Irene, blushing.</p> + +<p>"Unfortunately no," replied Bobichel, sorrowfully; "I was not allowed to +see him."</p> + +<p>"Who sent you here?"</p> + +<p>"His foster-father—Girdel."</p> + +<p>"Why does he not come personally?"</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[Pg 166]</a></span></p><p>"I do not know. I have something to give you."</p> + +<p>"What is it?"</p> + +<p>"Here it is," said Bobichel, pulling a small package out of his pocket +and handing it to Irene.</p> + +<p>The young countess hastily unfolded the package. It contained two +letters, one of which was addressed to "Mademoiselle Irene," while the +other bore, in clear, firm letters, her full name, "Countess Irene de +Salves."</p> + +<p>Without accounting for her feelings, Irene feverishly broke the last +letter. Did she suspect from whom it came?</p> + +<blockquote><p>"Countess, you are brave and noble!" wrote Fanfaro, "and therefore +I dare to ask you to take care of my sister, whom I barely rescued +from death. The hour is near at hand in which my sentence will be +pronounced. You have never doubted me, and I thank you from the +bottom of my heart! I have fought for the rights of humanity, and I +hope at some future time to be enrolled among those to whom right +is preferable to material things. One thing, however, I know now: a +powerful enemy pursues me with his hatred, and if the sentence +should turn out differently from what this enemy expects, he will +find the means to make me harmless. I therefore say farewell to +you—if forever, who can say? Irene, do not despair, eternal +heavenly justice stands above human passions. But if I should +succumb, I will die peacefully, knowing that my mother and my +sister will not be deserted."</p></blockquote> + +<p>The letter bore no signature. Irene read again and again the words of +her beloved, and hot tears fell on the paper.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[Pg 167]</a></span></p><p>Bobichel, deeply affected, observed the young girl, and to console her +he said:</p> + +<p>"Who knows, he might not be found guilty anyhow?"</p> + +<p>"Whom are you talking of? Who will be found guilty?" came from a +frightened voice behind Irene, and as the latter hastily turned round, +she saw Louison, who, enveloped in a soft shawl and pale as a spectre, +stood in the doorway.</p> + +<p>"Louison, how did you get here?" cried Irene, beside herself. "O God! I +am neglecting you. Quick, go to your room again, you shall know all +to-morrow."</p> + +<p>"Sister," whispered Louison, softly, "why do you wish to conceal +something from me which I already know? Tell me what has happened to +Fanfaro? I know danger threatens him, and two can bear the heaviest +burden easier than one."</p> + +<p>"Yes, you are right," replied Irene, embracing Louison, and, gently +leading her to her room, she sat down beside her and hastily told her +what she knew about the conspiracy and the part Fanfaro took in it. +Bobichel put in a word here and there, and when Irene had finished he +said with a smile:</p> + +<p>"Mademoiselle, in your eagerness to read one of the letters you forgot +to open the other."</p> + +<p>"That's so!" exclaimed Irene blushing, and unfolding Girdel's letter she +read the following words, written in an original orthographical style:</p> + +<blockquote><p>"We must reskue Fanfaro and this is only posibel in one way. You +have great inflooence; try to make the thing which Popichel will +give you all right, but not<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[Pg 168]</a></span> until after the trial, which will take +place in two days. I trust in you.</p> + +<p class="right"><span class="smcap">Girdel.</span>"</p></blockquote> + +<p>"What answer shall I bring master!" asked the clown after Irene had read +the letter.</p> + +<p>"That I will do as he says," replied Irene. "Where is the thing Girdel +intrusted to you?"</p> + +<p>"Here," said Bobichel, handing the young lady a pin with a pretty large +head; and as Irene, amazed, looked inquiringly at him, he quickly tore +off the head and showed her a small hollow in which a note lay.</p> + +<p>"You see, mademoiselle," he laughingly said, "prestidigitation is +sometimes of use. And now good-by. I will tell master that he struck the +right person."</p> + +<p>He disappeared, and the two young girls looked after him filled with new +hope.</p> + +<p>From the time that the old Countess of Salves had informed the Marquise +of Fougereuse that under existing circumstances a marriage between her +daughter and the Vicomte de Talizac was out of the question, violent +scenes had taken place in the Fougereuse mansion.</p> + +<p>Financial ruin could now hardly be averted, and, far from accusing her +son of being the cause of this shipwreck of her plans, Madeleine placed +the blame entirely on her husband. It was already whispered in court +circles that the newly appointed captain in the Life Guards and Knight +of St. Louis would lose his position, and though the other young +noblemen were no better than the vicomte, they had the advantage that +this was not universally known.</p> + +<p>The marquis and Madeleine had just been having a quarrel, and the +marquis, pale and exhausted, lay back<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[Pg 169]</a></span> in his chair, when Count Fernando +de Velletri was announced. The marquis bathed his face and forehead in +cold water, and ordered the Italian to be sent up. He attached great +importance to this visit, for Simon had told him that Velletri was a +member of the Society of Jesus, and a man of great influence.</p> + +<p>Velletri entered and his appearance was so different from what it +ordinarily was that the marquis looked at him in amazement. He wore a +long black coat, a black cravat, and a round hat of the same color. +These things marked Velletri at once as a member of an ecclesiastical +society. The dark cropped hair lay thick at the temples, and his eyes +were cast down. The Italian was inch by inch a typical Jesuit, and his +sharp look made the marquis tremble. He knew Loyola's pupils and their +"energy."</p> + +<p>Velletri bowed slightly to the marquis, and then said in a cold voice:</p> + +<p>"Marquis, I begged for an interview with you which I desire principally +for your own good. Are we undisturbed here?"</p> + +<p>"Entirely so," replied the marquis, coldly.</p> + +<p>The Italian sat down in a chair which the marquis had shoved toward him, +and began in a business tone:</p> + +<p>"Marquis, it is probably not unknown to you that the conduct of your +son, the Vicomte de Talizac, compromises his own position and that of +his family. I—"</p> + +<p>"But, count," interrupted the marquis vivaciously, "you were the chum of +my son, and you even encouraged his dissipations."</p> + +<p>Velletri laughed maliciously.</p> + +<p>"The Vicomte of Talizac," he said, weighing each<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[Pg 170]</a></span> word, "is no child any +more, and not influenced either in a bad or good way by any of his +companions. If I have apparently taken part in his dissipations, it was +in the first place to prevent something worse and to shield the honor of +the Fougereuse, which was often at stake."</p> + +<p>"You, count—but I really do not understand," stammered the marquis.</p> + +<p>"It seems to me," interrupted the Italian, sharply, "that we are +swerving from the real object of our interview. Let me speak, marquis. A +powerful society, with which I have the honor of being associated, has +had its eye on you for a long time. Your influence, your opinions and +your family connections are such that the society hopes to have in you a +useful auxiliary, and I have therefore received the order to make +arrangements with you. The society—"</p> + +<p>"You are no doubt speaking of the Society of Jesus?" interrupted the +marquis.</p> + +<p>Velletri bowed and continued:</p> + +<p>"Thanks to the assistance of the pious fathers, his majesty has foregone +his original intention of stripping the Vicomte de Talizac of all his +honors—"</p> + +<p>The marquis made a gesture of astonishment, and Velletri went on:</p> + +<p>"The society is even ready to give you the means to put your shattered +fortune on a firm basis again."</p> + +<p>"And the conditions?" stammered Fougereuse hoarsely.</p> + +<p>"I will tell them to you directly; they are not very difficult to +fulfil."</p> + +<p>"And should I refuse them?"</p> + +<p>"Do you really intend to refuse them?" asked the Jesuit, softly.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[Pg 171]</a></span></p><p>Fougereuse bit his lips; he had already said too much. The Jesuit was a +worthy pupil of his master, and the marquis felt that should he oppose +him he would be the loser.</p> + +<p>"What does the society ask of me?" he said, after a pause.</p> + +<p>"Two things—an important service and a guarantee."</p> + +<p>"And what does it offer?"</p> + +<p>"The position of his majesty the king's prime minister."</p> + +<p>The marquis sprang up as if electrified.</p> + +<p>"I have misunderstood you," he said.</p> + +<p>"Not at all; it is a question of the premiership."</p> + +<p>Cold drops of perspiration stood on the marquis's forehead; he knew the +society had the power to keep its promises. Prime minister! Never in his +dreams had he even thought so high. The position guaranteed to him +riches, influence and power.</p> + +<p>"You spoke of an important service and a guarantee," he said, breathing +heavily; "please explain yourself more clearly."</p> + +<p>"I will first speak of the service," replied Velletri, calmly; "it is of +such a nature that the one intrusted with it can be thankful, for he +will be able to do a great deal of good to His Holiness the Pope and the +Catholic world."</p> + +<p>Fougereuse closed his eyes—this outlook was dazzling.</p> + +<p>Fernando de Velletri continued with:</p> + +<p>"Marquis, you are no doubt aware that the Jesuits have been expelled +from France under the law of 1764. About two years ago, in January, +1822, his majesty the king allowed them to stay temporarily in his +kingdom.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[Pg 172]</a></span> The good prince did not dare at that time to do more for us. +The time has now come to put an end to the oppression under which the +Jesuits have so long suffered. What we desire is the solemn restoration +of all their rights to the fathers. They should hold up their heads +under their true names and enjoy anew all their former privileges. To +secure this end we must have a law—not a royal edict, a sound +constitutional law—which must be passed by the Chamber of Peers. It is +a bold undertaking, and we do not deceive ourselves with regard to the +difficulties to be encountered, and the man who does it must be quick +and energetic, but the reward is a magnificent one. The man we shall +elevate to the prime ministership will be in possession of great power. +Marquis, do you think you have the necessary strength to be this man?"</p> + +<p>Fougereuse had arisen. Excited, flushed with enthusiasm, he looked at +Velletri.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I am the man!" he firmly exclaimed, "I will easily overcome every +obstacle, conquer every opposition—"</p> + +<p>"With our assistance," added the Jesuit. "We are already in possession +of a respectable minority, and it will be easy for you, with the aid of +promises and shrewd insinuations, to win over those who are on the +fence. Marquis, the work intrusted to you is a sublime one—"</p> + +<p>"I am yours body and soul," interrupted the marquis impatiently. "And +to-day—"</p> + +<p>"One moment," said the Jesuit, placing his hand lightly on the marquis's +shoulder; "I also spoke about a guarantee."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[Pg 173]</a></span></p><p>"Really," cried Fougereuse sincerely, "I forgot all about that, but I +should think my word of honor would be sufficient."</p> + +<p>Velletri did not reply to his last observation, but coolly said:</p> + +<p>"The man in whom the society places such entire confidence as to give +him the weapons which must lead to victory must be bound to us by ties +which cannot be torn asunder."</p> + +<p>The marquis's face expressed naïve astonishment.</p> + +<p>"The strongest chains," continued the Jesuit, "are, as is well known, +the golden ones, and the guarantee we desire is based on this fact. +Marquis, I am the secretary of the general of the order, and it is my +mission to ask you whether you are ready to assist the society +financially by founding new colonies such as the Montrouge and +Saint-Acheul houses in Parma and Tuscany?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly," stammered Fougereuse, "I am ready to help the Society of +Jesus to the extent of my means, and should like to know beforehand how +high the sum is that is required. My finances are at present exhausted +and—"</p> + +<p>"Have no fear," interrupted Velletri dryly; "the sum in question is not +so immense that you need be frightened about it."</p> + +<p>Fougereuse breathed more freely.</p> + +<p>"To found the houses named only a very modest sum is necessary, not more +than a million!"</p> + +<p>"A million!" stammered the marquis, "a million!"</p> + +<p>"The sum is very small in comparison to the office you buy with it, and +only the particular friendship our order had for you caused it to give +you the preference, to the exclusion of numerous applicants."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[Pg 174]</a></span></p><p>"But a million!" groaned Fougereuse, "the sum is impossible to secure! +If I were to sell or pawn everything, I would not succeed in raising a +quarter of this sum."</p> + +<p>"Then you refuse?" asked Velletri.</p> + +<p>"God forbid, only I do not know how I shall satisfy the demand of the +society. A million is, under the circumstances, a terrible sum!"</p> + +<p>"Marquis, the house of Fougereuse possesses a fortune which is fabulous +in comparison to the demands of the society."</p> + +<p>"If it were only so," groaned Fougereuse, "but unfortunately you are +mistaken; I am ruined, totally ruined!"</p> + +<p>"Impossible! The fortune your father left behind him was too immense to +have been spent in a few years! No matter what your embarrassments +previously were, the fortune must have been sufficient to cover them and +enrich you enormously besides!" replied Velletri.</p> + +<p>"Count, I was robbed of my legacy—dastardly robbed," whined Fougereuse.</p> + +<p>The Italian rose up angrily.</p> + +<p>"Marquis," said he, "I am not used to bargaining and haggling. I ask you +for the last time, what is your decision? I offer you peace or war. +Peace means for you power and influence, while war—"</p> + +<p>"War?" repeated Fougereuse, confused. "I—do not understand you!"</p> + +<p>"Then I will express myself more clearly. When the society reposes its +confidence in a man like you and discloses its most secret plans, it +always has a weapon in the background, to be used in case of necessity. +A comrade sometimes becomes an opponent—"</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[Pg 175]</a></span></p><p>"I—should I ever become an enemy of the fathers? Oh, you do not +believe that yourself!"</p> + +<p>"Our measures are such that it cannot be done very easily, anyhow," +replied Velletri, with faint malice; "this is our ultimatum: Either you +accept my proposition and hand over the sum named within five days, or +one of our emissaries will place certain papers in the hands of the +district-attorney!"</p> + +<p>Fougereuse trembled with fear and his teeth chattered as he stammeringly +said:</p> + +<p>"I—do not—understand—you."</p> + +<p>"Then listen. The papers are drafts whose signatures have been forged by +the Vicomte de Talizac, and which are in our hands."</p> + +<p>"Drafts? Forged drafts? Impossible—my son is not a criminal!" cried the +marquis, desperately.</p> + +<p>"Ask the vicomte," replied Velletri, coldly, and rising, he added: +"Marquis, I give you time to consider. As soon as you have made up your +mind, please be so kind as to let me know."</p> + +<p>"One moment, count. Are your conditions unchangeable?"</p> + +<p>"Perfectly so. Inside of the next five days the preliminary steps must +be taken in the Chamber of Peers—"</p> + +<p>"I will do them to-morrow," cried the marquis, hastily.</p> + +<p>"But only in case you are able to give the necessary guarantee. Marquis, +adieu!"</p> + +<p>The Italian went away, and Fougereuse, entirely broken down, remained +behind.</p> + +<p>He was still sitting thinking deeply, when Simon, who had remained +behind the curtain and overheard the interview, softly stepped forth, +and said:</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[Pg 176]</a></span></p><p>"Courage, marquis; there is no reason for despair. Write to the pious +fathers that you will satisfy their demands within the required five +days."</p> + +<p>"But I do not understand—"</p> + +<p>"And yet it is very clear. Fanfaro is in prison—"</p> + +<p>"Even so—he will not be condemned to death."</p> + +<p>"If the judges do not kill him, there are other means."</p> + +<p>"Other means?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, my lord; the legacy of the Fougereuse will fall into your hands, +and then the cabinet position is sure."</p> + +<p>"Simon, are you mad?"</p> + +<p>"No, my lord. I will kill Fanfaro!"</p> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[Pg 177]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXII" id="CHAPTER_XXII"></a>CHAPTER XXII</h2> + +<h3>THE TRIAL</h3> + +<p>Political trials are in all ages similar; and then, as now, the verdict +is decided upon long before the proceedings have begun.</p> + +<p>It was only after Fanfaro had been brought to the courtroom that he +caught a glimpse of the man who had allowed himself to be used as a tool +to set the assassination of the king in motion. A contemptuous smile +played about the young man's lips when he saw it was Robeckal. The +wretch looked like the personification of fear; his knees quaked +together, his face was covered with cold perspiration, and his teeth +chattered audibly.</p> + +<p>Robeckal had been still half intoxicated when he undertook to carry out +Simon's proposition to play the regicide. Not until now, when he found +himself in the presence of his judges, had he comprehended that it might +cost him his head, and his bold assurance gave way to cowardly despair.</p> + +<p>Fanfaro answered the questions put to him briefly and clearly. He +described Robeckal's actions during the time he had been a member of +Girdel's troupe. He declared that the wretch had cut the chain in +Sainte-Ame for the purpose of killing the athlete, and said everything +in such a passionless way that the judges became convinced that<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[Pg 178]</a></span> he was +speaking the truth. As soon as the indictment had been read, the +proceedings began. Robeckal whiningly declared that he bitterly +regretted what he had done. He had been seduced by Fanfaro, and would +give his right hand if he could blot out the recollection of the +attempted assassination.</p> + +<p>"Thanks be to God that Providence protected our king!" he concluded, +bursting into tears, the presence of which were a surprise even to +himself, while a murmur of sympathy ran through the courtroom. He +certainly deserved a light punishment, poor fellow, and—</p> + +<p>Now came Fanfaro's turn.</p> + +<p>"You are a member of a secret society which bears the proud title of +'Heroes of Justice'?" asked the presiding judge.</p> + +<p>"I am a Frenchman," replied Fanfaro, "and as such I joined with the men +who desire to free their country."</p> + +<p>"And to do this you attempted assassination?" asked the judge, sharply.</p> + +<p>"I am not an assassin," replied the young man, coldly; "these men who +negotiated with foreign powers to cut France in pieces for the sake of +conquering a crown sunk in mud have more right to the title."</p> + +<p>"Bravo!" came from the rear of the hall, and then a terrible tumult +arose. With the help of the policemen, several dozen men were hustled +out of the room, while the man who had uttered the cry was let alone. It +was Girdel, who wore the dress of a lackey and consequently aroused no +suspicion.</p> + +<p>Irene de Salves was also one of the spectators. Her sparkling eyes were +directed at Fanfaro, and whenever he spoke, a look of pride shone in +them.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[Pg 179]</a></span></p><p>When quiet had been restored, the judge turned once more to Fanfaro. He +asked him to tell everything he knew about the attempt, and shook his +head when the young man declared on his honor that he was the victim of +a conspiracy.</p> + +<p>"My father," Fanfaro concluded, "fell in defence of his country, and it +would be a bad way of honoring his memory were I to stain his name with +the shame of regicide."</p> + +<p>Fanfaro's defender was a very able lawyer, but he was stopped in the +middle of his speech, and when he protested he was forced to leave the +courtroom.</p> + +<p>Fifteen minutes later the verdict was given. Robeckal was condemned to +death by strangulation, and Fanfaro to the galleys for life.</p> + +<p>But at the moment the sentence was pronounced a terrible thing occurred.</p> + +<p>Fanfaro arose, opened his mouth as if he wished to speak, stretched out +his arms, turned around in a circle, and then fell heavily to the floor!</p> + +<p>Loud cries broke forth.</p> + +<p>"He has committed suicide," some cried.</p> + +<p>"He has been poisoned," came from others, and all rushed toward the +unconscious man.</p> + +<p>Irene de Salves had hurried toward Girdel, she wished to ask him a +question; but when she finally reached the place where she had seen the +athlete he had disappeared. All attempts at recovery remained fruitless, +and Fanfaro was carried off. Robeckal, too, was almost dead from fright. +The sentence came upon him like a stroke of lightning.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[Pg 180]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXIII" id="CHAPTER_XXIII"></a>CHAPTER XXIII</h2> + +<h3>THE CRISIS</h3> + +<p>"At last," cried the Marquis of Fougereuse, when he heard of Fanfaro's +sudden death, and in great good humor he went in search of his wife.</p> + +<p>"Madeleine!" he exclaimed, "all our troubles are at an end now; he who +stood between us and fortune is dead."</p> + +<p>"Of whom are you speaking?"</p> + +<p>"Of whom else but that common regicide."</p> + +<p>"What, of that Fanfaro who lately had the audacity to come into our +parlor and create that terrible scene?"</p> + +<p>"Of him—he is dead."</p> + +<p>"Heaven be praised. We shall now receive the legacy."</p> + +<p>"Without a doubt. All that is now necessary is to get Girdel to speak, +and that can be easily arranged. He has only to repeat before witnesses +what he has told me already."</p> + +<p>"I had hardly dared to hope any more that this dream would be realized," +said Madeleine. "The cabinet position is now sure, and our son has a +brilliant future before him. Where is Frederic staying? He has been gone +already several hours."</p> + +<p>The marquis paid no attention to Madeleine's last words.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[Pg 181]</a></span> He was +thinking about Simon and the great service the latter had done for him.</p> + +<p>"Where can Simon be?" he uneasily remarked, "I have not seen him in two +days."</p> + +<p>"Bah! he will turn up, let us rather speak about our son. I—"</p> + +<p>A knock was heard at the door.</p> + +<p>"Come in," said the marquis expectantly; but instead of Simon, as he +thought, a servant entered.</p> + +<p>"My lord," he stammered, "the vicomte—"</p> + +<p>"Ah, he is outside!" cried the marquise eagerly; "tell the vicomte we +are awaiting him."</p> + +<p>Saying which she advanced toward the door. The servant, however, +prevented her from opening it, and placing his hand on the knob, he +hesitatingly said:</p> + +<p>"Madame—I—"</p> + +<p>"What do you mean?" cried the marquise, angrily. "You announce the +vicomte and lock the door instead of opening it?"</p> + +<p>"My lord," said the servant, turning to the marquis.</p> + +<p>The expression of the man's face was such that the nobleman felt his +heart stand still with terror, and in a faint voice he stammered:</p> + +<p>"Madeleine, let Baptiste speak."</p> + +<p>"The—vicomte—is dead," stammered Baptiste.</p> + +<p>A cry of despair came from the marquise's lips, while the unfortunate +father looked at the messenger in a daze. He did not seem to know what +was the matter.</p> + +<p>But soon the terrible significance of the words was made clear to him. +Heavy steps were heard in the corridor. They ceased at the door, and +now—now four men entered the parlor and laid gently on the floor the +burden<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[Pg 182]</a></span> they had been carrying. The burden was a bier, covered with a +cloth, under which could be seen the outlines of a human form.</p> + +<p>Neither the marquis nor Madeleine had the courage to raise the cover. In +a daze they both stared at the bier and the pallbearers, and only when +Gaston de Ferrette, Talizac's friend, stepped on the threshold of the +door did life return to the unhappy parents.</p> + +<p>"Gaston, what has happened?" cried the marquis in despair, as he +imploringly held his hand toward the young man.</p> + +<p>"He is dead," replied Gaston, in a hollow voice.</p> + +<p>"Who is dead? For Heaven's sake speak!" moaned Madeleine.</p> + +<p>"Your son, the Vicomte de Talizac, fell in a duel," said Gaston, +earnestly.</p> + +<p>Madeleine uttered a loud cry and sank unconscious to the floor. While +Baptiste and the marquise's maid hurried to her assistance, Fougereuse +gazed vacantly before him, and then raising his head, he passionately +exclaimed:</p> + +<p>"You lie—my son had no duel!"</p> + +<p>"Would to God you were right, marquis," replied Gaston, sorrowfully; +"unfortunately it is the truth. The vicomte and Arthur de Montferrand +fought a duel, and the sword of the latter ran through Talizac's heart!"</p> + +<p>The marquis still remained unconvinced, and carefully gliding toward the +bier, he shoved the cloth aside with a trembling hand.</p> + +<p>Yes, it was his son who lay on the bier. The pale face was stiff and +cold. The eyes were glassy and on the breast was a deep red wound.</p> + +<p>The marquis uttered a hoarse cry and his hand <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[Pg 183]</a></span>nervously grasped the +cloth. His eyes shone feverishly and he stammered forth disconnected +sentences.</p> + +<p>Gaston de Ferrette consoled the unhappy father, but his words made no +impression, and as Madeleine had in the meantime been brought back to +consciousness by her maid, Gaston thought it best to go away for the +present.</p> + +<p>He softly strode to the door, but had hardly reached it when the marquis +sprang up, and, laying his hand heavily on the young man's shoulder, +said:</p> + +<p>"Do not leave this room. I must know how he died."</p> + +<p>A wink from Gaston sent the servants away, and as soon as he was alone +with the parents he began his story.</p> + +<p>"The vicomte sent his seconds to Arthur de Montferrand," he said; "the +motive for the duel was to be kept secret by both combatants, and I of +course had nothing to say to this. The meeting was agreed upon for this +morning and took place in the Bois de Boulogne. When the vicomte arrived +on the spot, he was so terribly excited that the seconds thought it +their duty to ask for a postponement of the affair. This proposition was +agreed to by Monsieur de Montferrand, but the vicomte firmly opposed it. +We tried in vain to change his determination. He became angry, accused +his seconds of cowardice, and threatened to horsewhip them. Under such +circumstances nothing could be done. The distance was measured off and +the duel began. The vicomte was already lost after the first tourney. In +his passion he ran upon his opponent's sword, the blade of which +penetrated his heart, and death immediately followed."</p> + +<p>Pale, with eyes wide open, the marquis and Madeleine listened to +Gaston's story. The marquise clinched her fist and angrily exclaimed:</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[Pg 184]</a></span></p><p>"My son has been murdered, and I will avenge him!"</p> + +<p>The marquis remained silent, but his silence made a deeper impression on +the young man than Madeleine's anger.</p> + +<p>"Did my son leave any letter?" asked the marquise, suddenly.</p> + +<p>"Yes, my lady. Before we rode to the Bois de Boulogne the vicomte gave +me a sealed letter, which I was to give to his parents in case of his +death."</p> + +<p>The young man thereupon handed the marquise the letter. Madeleine tore +the envelope with a trembling hand. There were only a few lines:</p> + +<blockquote><p>"You have brought me up badly. You are the cause of my death. I +hate you!"</p></blockquote> + +<p>A terrible laugh, the laugh of madness, came from the marquise's breast, +and, rushing upon her husband, she held the paper before his eyes.</p> + +<p>"Read," she cried, "read these words, which our only child sends us from +his grave. He hates us—ha, ha, ha!—hates—hates!"</p> + +<p>The cup of sorrow caused the marquise to become unconscious again, and +this time Gaston ordered the servants to take her away. Madeleine was +carried to her bedroom, and Gaston, who saw the marquis kneeling at his +son's bier, noiselessly went away.</p> + +<p>Hardly had he left the room, when the door was slowly opened and a +gray-haired man entered. He saw the grief-stricken father beside his +son's corpse, and an expression of deep sympathy crossed his stony face. +Softly walking behind the marquis, he laid his hand upon his shoulder. +Fougereuse looked up and an <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[Pg 185]</a></span>expression of dumb terror appeared on his +features, while he tremblingly murmured: "Pierre Labarre!"</p> + +<p>Yes, it was really Pierre Labarre who had accompanied Caillette and +Louise to Paris, and had heard there that Fanfaro's trial had begun. As +soon as he could he hurried to the court house and heard there what had +happened. Several physicians stood about the so suddenly deceased young +man, and they declared that death was brought about by the bursting of a +vein.</p> + +<p>Crushed and annihilated, Pierre Labarre hurried to the Fougereuse +mansion, and the marquis trembled at sight of him, as if he were a +spectre.</p> + +<p>"Pierre Labarre," he cried in a hollow voice, "you come to gloat over my +grief. Ah, you can triumph now. I know you are glad at my misfortune. +Get out!" he suddenly exclaimed in angry tones, "get out, I have nothing +to do with you!"</p> + +<p>"But I have with you, marquis," replied Pierre calmly. "I have something +to tell you, and you will listen to me!"</p> + +<p>"Aha! have you finally become reasonable?" mockingly laughed the +marquis. "Now you will no longer dare to prevent me from claiming my +rights or dispute my legal title."</p> + +<p>"No," replied Pierre, sorrowfully; "the real Vicomte de Talizac is dead, +and from to-day on you are for me the Marquis of Fougereuse."</p> + +<p>"I do not understand you," said the marquis, confused. "What has the +death of my son got to do with my title?"</p> + +<p>"I do not speak of the son who lies here a corpse, but of the other—"</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[Pg 186]</a></span></p><p>"Which other?" asked the nobleman, more and more surprised.</p> + +<p>"You will soon understand me—it is about Fanfaro—"</p> + +<p>"Ah, I could have thought so; to his death I owe the fact that Pierre +Labarre calls me the Marquis of Fougereuse, and that now that no one is +living to whom he can give the hidden millions he must necessarily +deliver them up to me!"</p> + +<p>With a mixture of surprise and horror Pierre looked at the man, who +could still think of money and money matters in the presence of his dead +son.</p> + +<p>"Why do you not speak?" continued the marquis, mockingly. "You are, no +doubt, sorrowful at the death of Fanfaro, whom you imagine to be the +legitimate heir of the Fougereuse? Yes, I cannot help you; gone is gone; +and if it interests you, you can learn how Fanfaro came to his death. I +killed him!"</p> + +<p>"Impossible—do not say that!" cried Pierre Labarre in terror. "Say that +it was a joke, my lord, or a misunderstanding. You did not kill him!"</p> + +<p>"And why not?" asked the nobleman. "Yes, I got rid of him; I hired the +murderer, who freed me of him! Ha! ha! ha! I knew who Fanfaro was—I +recognized him immediately on account of his resemblance to my father +and my brother, and as he stood in my way I got rid of him by means of +poison! What are you staring at? I really believe you are getting +childish in your old age!"</p> + +<p>Pale as a ghost, Pierre leaned against the wall, and his hand was +clasped over his eyes, as if he wished to shut the marquis out of his +sight.</p> + +<p>"Unhappy father," he murmured, in a broken voice;<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[Pg 187]</a></span> "would to God +somebody took the duty off my hands of telling you what you have done."</p> + +<p>"Spare your pity," said Fougereuse, proudly; "if anything can console me +for the death of my son, it is the knowledge that my brother Jules's +son, who was always a thorn in my side, is at last out of the way."</p> + +<p>"For Heaven's sake be silent: this Fanfaro was not your brother's son!"</p> + +<p>"So much the worse!"</p> + +<p>"My lord, in the presence of this corpse which lies before us, I beseech +you do not blaspheme, and listen to what I have to say. Do you recollect +the village of Sachemont?"</p> + +<p>"Sachemont?" repeated Fougereuse, pensively.</p> + +<p>"Yes—Sachemont. On the 16th of May, 1804, you and another officer took +lodgings in the cottage of a peasant in Sachemont. You were running away +from France. You had taken part in Cadoudal's conspiracy, and barely +escaped from the hands of the officers of the law. The peasant received +you hospitably, and, in return, the wretches insulted their host's +daughters. One of the officers, a German, was repulsed by the young girl +he had impudently approached, but the other one, a Frenchman, took +advantage of the other sister, and after committing the dastardly +outrage, he ran away with his companion. Marquis, shall I name you the +man who acted so meanly? It was the then Vicomte de Talizac!"</p> + +<p>Fougereuse looked at the old servant in amazement. Where had Pierre +Labarre found all this out?</p> + +<p>"The nobleman left the cottage like a thief in the night, and left +behind him despair and shame," continued Pierre; "and this despair +increased when the unhappy<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[Pg 188]</a></span> victim of the Vicomte de Talizac gave birth +to a son, about the commencement of the year 1805—"</p> + +<p>"Go on! What else?" asked Fougereuse, mockingly, as Pierre paused.</p> + +<p>"The unhappy girl died, and the child, which had neither father nor +mother, stood alone in the world," said the old man softly; "it would +have died wretchedly if a brave and noble man had not made good the +misfortune another caused. Jules de Fougereuse, the brother of the +Vicomte de Talizac, married, under the name of Jules Fougeres, the +sister of the dead woman, and both of them took care of the child. They +brought the boy up as if he had been their own, and in the village of +Leigoutte no one suspected that little Jacques was only an adopted +child. In the year 1814 you induced the Cossacks to destroy Leigoutte. +Jules Fougeres, your only brother, died the death of a hero, and if the +wife and children of the victim did not get burned to death, as was +intended, it was not the fault of the instigator of the bloody drama."</p> + +<p>This time the nobleman did not reply mockingly; pale and trembling he +gazed at Pierre Labarre, and cold drops of perspiration stood on his +forehead.</p> + +<p>"My information is at an end," said the old man now, as he advanced a +step nearer to the nobleman. "Fanfaro and Jacques Fougeres are identical +with the Vicomte de Talizac's son."</p> + +<p>"It is a lie," hissed Fougereuse, "this Fanfaro was my brother's son; +tell your fables to others."</p> + +<p>Instead of answering, Pierre Labarre searched in his breast-pocket and +handed the marquis a package of papers. With trembling hands Fougereuse +opened the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[Pg 189]</a></span> ones on top and tried to read, but a veil was before his +eyes and he tremblingly said:</p> + +<p>"Read them, Pierre, I cannot see anything."</p> + +<p>Pierre read the following aloud:</p> + +<blockquote><p>"I, Jules de Fougereuse, elder son of the marquis of the same name, +swear that the child, Jacques Fougeres, which is supposed to be my +own and bears the name of Fougeres, which I at present answer to, +is not my son, but the son of my sister-in-law Therese Lemaire, and +my brother, the Vicomte de Talizac.</p> + +<p class="right">"<span class="smcap">Jules Fougeres.</span>"</p></blockquote> + +<p>"Those words have been written by some unmitigated liar!" cried the +marquis. "Pierre Labarre, say that it is not true, or else—I must have +poisoned my own son!"</p> + +<p>"Would to God I could say no," replied Pierre, shuddering, "but I +cannot! Fanfaro was your son—his blood lies on your head!"</p> + +<p>"No! no!" cried the marquis, pale as death; "his blood will not fall +upon me, but upon the devil who led me to do the dastardly deed."</p> + +<p>"His name?" asked Pierre.</p> + +<p>"Is Simon—my steward! He advised me to poison Fanfaro, so that I could +force you to give up the legacy. I acceded to his proposition, and he +committed the deed."</p> + +<p>Pierre looked contemptuously at the coward who did not hesitate to throw +the responsibility of the terrible deed on his servant.</p> + +<p>"I am going now," he said, coldly; "I have nothing more to do here."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[Pg 190]</a></span></p><p>"No, remain. Do not leave me alone with the dead—I am frightened!" +whined the marquis.</p> + +<p>"I must go. I want to look after your other dead son," replied Pierre.</p> + +<p>"Ah, take me along! Let me see him, let me beg forgiveness of the corpse +against which I have sinned so," implored the broken-down man.</p> + +<p>Pierre thought for a while, and then said earnestly:</p> + +<p>"Come then—you are right."</p> + +<p>"Thanks, a thousand thanks! But tell me, Pierre, what will become of the +fortune you have in safe keeping. It exists yet, I hope?"</p> + +<p>Labarre trembled with contemptuous rage; the man before him was more +mercenary and wicked than he thought could be possible. He buried both +his sons almost at the same hour, but he still found time and +opportunity to inquire about the legacy for which he had made so many +sacrifices.</p> + +<p>"Well," exclaimed Fougereuse impatiently, "tell me, where are the +millions of my father?"</p> + +<p>"In a safe place," replied Pierre dryly.</p> + +<p>"God be praised! I could draw a million then this evening?"</p> + +<p>"My God, marquis! do you need a million to confess your sins?"</p> + +<p>"Later! Later! Now answer me, when can I get the million?"</p> + +<p>"To-morrow; the documents and bonds are deposited with a lawyer here."</p> + +<p>"So much the better."</p> + +<p>The marquis hurried to his writing-table, wrote a few lines and rang.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[Pg 191]</a></span></p><p>"Here, this note must be brought at once to Count Fernando de +Velletri," he said to Baptiste. "Wait for an answer and bring it at once +to me; you will find me in the court-house."</p> + +<p>While the servant was hurrying away, the marquis hastily put on a cloak, +and left the house with Labarre.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[Pg 192]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXIV" id="CHAPTER_XXIV"></a>CHAPTER XXIV</h2> + +<h3>THE AUTOPSY</h3> + +<p>In a House opposite the court-house, which stood at the corner of a +street which has long since disappeared, were two men who were earnestly +conversing.</p> + +<p>"Doctor," said one of them, "you guarantee a success?"</p> + +<p>"Have no fear; I have often made such experiments, and always with +success. I haven't grown gray in the service of science for nothing. I +know what I am speaking about."</p> + +<p>"But the long time," said the other anxiously. "You know we can operate +only at night, and forty hours are sometimes an eternity."</p> + +<p>"Before I entered upon the plan I weighed everything carefully," said +the physician earnestly, "otherwise I should not have taken the +responsibility. Have confidence in me; what my knowledge and care can do +will be done to bring everything to a good end."</p> + +<p>The other man shook the physician's hand heartily.</p> + +<p>"Thank you, faithful friend," he cordially said. "I wish I could stop +the uneasy beating of my heart, but I suppose it is only natural that I +am anxious."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[Pg 193]</a></span></p><p>"That's it exactly," replied the doctor; "and to quiet you I will stay +here from now on until the decisive hour. Good-by, I must go. You know +where I am to be found."</p> + +<p>The doctor went, while the other man struck his face with his hands and +softly murmured:</p> + +<p>"God grant that he be right. I would rather die a thousand deaths than +lose the dear boy in this way."</p> + +<p>Hot tears ran over the man's brown cheeks, and his broad breast rose and +fell, torn by convulsive sobs.</p> + +<p>"Shame yourself, Firejaws!" he murmured, "if any one saw you now! Let us +hope everything will be all right, and then—"</p> + +<p>A loud knock at the door interrupted Girdel's self-conversation, and +upon a hasty "Come in," Bobichel entered the room.</p> + +<p>"Well, Bobi, how goes it?" asked the athlete.</p> + +<p>"She is downstairs," said the clown, with a significant gesture.</p> + +<p>Without asking another question, Girdel hurried out, while Bobichel +looked observantly around the room, and soon found a well-filled bottle +of wine and a glass; he filled the glass and emptied it with one +swallow.</p> + +<p>In the meantime Girdel had met Irene de Salves in the corridor of the +house.</p> + +<p>The young lady wore a black dress, and when she saw the athlete she ran +to meet him and sobbingly cried:</p> + +<p>"He's not dead, is he?"</p> + +<p>"No, he is not dead," confirmed Girdel; and seeing Irene's pale face, he +said, more to himself: "I knew how the news would work, and yet it could +not be helped—as God pleases, it will all be right again."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[Pg 194]</a></span></p><p>"But where is he?" asked Irene anxiously.</p> + +<p>"Countess," began the athlete, somewhat embarrassed, "at present he is a +corpse on a bier and whoever sees him thinks he is dead; but to-morrow +at this time he will be well and at liberty."</p> + +<p>"Ah, if I could only believe it—"</p> + +<p>"You can do so," cried Girdel, hastily; "if I had not thought you were +more courageous than women in general, I would have kept silent; but I +thought to myself you were in despair, and I therefore concluded to +speak."</p> + +<p>"A thousand thanks for your confidence, but tell me everything that has +happened—I can hardly understand the whole thing."</p> + +<p>"I believe you. If you were to accompany me to the cellar now you would +see one of the chief actors in the drama. Downstairs in a cage lies a +wild beast which we have captured. I just want to call Bobichel and give +him a message, then I will accompany you downstairs."</p> + +<p>A low whistle from the athlete brought the clown directly to him, and +Girdel ordered him to slip into the court-house and watch what occurred +there. He then accompanied Irene into the damp cellar. Lighting a pocket +lantern and holding it aloft, he said:</p> + +<p>"Follow me, countess; we will soon be there."</p> + +<p>The countess followed her guide without hesitation; she had perfect +confidence in Girdel, and after a short journey they both stood in front +of a heavy iron door.</p> + +<p>"Here we are," said the athlete, triumphantly; and taking an iron bar +which stood in a corner in his hand, he cried in stentorian tones:</p> + +<p>"Get up, scoundrel, let us look at you!"</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[Pg 195]</a></span></p><p>Low moans answered the gruff command, and Irene uttered a cry of +terror, for in the cell a human form moved.</p> + +<p>"Step nearer, mademoiselle," said Girdel, putting on the manners of a +circus proprietor; "the wild beast is pretty tame now—we have taken out +its teeth and chained it."</p> + +<p>"But I do not understand—" stammered Irene.</p> + +<p>"Who this beast is? You shall know it at once; the magnificent personage +is Simon, the factotum of the Marquis Fougereuse. In his leisure hours +the miserable wretch occupies himself with poisoning experiments, and it +would not be a loss to humanity if he should never see daylight again. +Come, boy, play your tricks; the performance begins."</p> + +<p>"Mercy," whispered Simon, for he was really the prisoner, "let me free."</p> + +<p>"Really? Perhaps later on, but now you must obey. Quick, tell us what +brought you here."</p> + +<p>"I am hungry," growled Simon.</p> + +<p>"Really? Well, if you answer my questions probably you shall have food +and drink. Why did you want to poison Fanfaro?"</p> + +<p>"I do not know," stammered the steward.</p> + +<p>"How bad your memory is. What interest did your master, the Marquis of +Fougereuse, have in Fanfaro's death?"</p> + +<p>Simon was silent. Girdel nudged him gently in the ribs with the iron +bar, and turning to Irene, said:</p> + +<p>"Would you believe, mademoiselle, that this fellow was very talkative a +few days ago when he tried to bribe Fanfaro's jailer. Growl away, it is +true, anyway!<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[Pg 196]</a></span> You promised fabulous sums to the jailer if he would mix +a small white powder in Fanfaro's food. Fortunately I have eyes and ears +everywhere, so I immediately took my measures. With Bobichel's +assistance I captured this monster here, and then I went to the bribed +jailer and gave him, in the name of his employer, the white powder. He +took it without any objection. That I had changed the powder in the +meantime for another he was unaware of. If I only knew," he concluded +with a frown, "what object this marquis has to injure Fanfaro. This +beast won't talk, and—"</p> + +<p>"Let me speak to him," said the countess, softly. And turning to the +grating, she urged Simon to confess his master's motives and thereby +free himself. At first Simon looked uneasily at the young girl; he made +an attempt to speak, but reconsidered it and closed his lips.</p> + +<p>"Let us leave him alone, mademoiselle," said Girdel; "solitude will do +him good."</p> + +<p>When Simon saw that Girdel and Irene were about to depart, he groaned +loudly, but the athlete ordered him to keep still if he did not wish to +be gagged, and this warning had the desired effect.</p> + +<p>When Girdel and Irene reached the room, the latter sank, sobbing, upon a +chair, and "the brave athlete" tried his best to console her.</p> + +<p>"It will be all right," he assured her; "Fanfaro has swallowed a strong +narcotic which makes him appear as if dead. To-morrow he will be buried; +we shall dig him up again, and then bring him away as soon as possible."</p> + +<p>At this moment Bobichel breathlessly rushed into the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[Pg 197]</a></span> room, and Irene +uttered a cry of terror when she saw his pale face.</p> + +<p>"What has happened?" she cried, filled with gloomy forebodings.</p> + +<p>"O God—he is lost!" stammered the clown.</p> + +<p>"Who is lost?"</p> + +<p>"Fanfaro."</p> + +<p>"Speak clearly," cried Girdel, beside himself.</p> + +<p>"They have brought—Fanfaro—to the—Hotel Dieu," said Bobichel, +sobbing.</p> + +<p>"Well, that isn't such a misfortune," said the athlete, breathing more +freely. "You need not have frightened us."</p> + +<p>"But the worst is to come—they want to hold an autopsy over him to find +out the cause of death."</p> + +<p>"Merciful God! that must not be," cried Irene, wringing her hands. "We +must run to the hospital and tell all."</p> + +<p>"Who is the physician that is going to undertake the autopsy?" asked +Girdel.</p> + +<p>"Doctor Albaret, as I was informed."</p> + +<p>"Then rely on me, countess," cried the athlete, rushing away; "either I +rescue Fanfaro or else I die with him."</p> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[Pg 198]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXV" id="CHAPTER_XXV"></a>CHAPTER XXV</h2> + +<h3>FROM SCYLLA TO CHARYBDIS</h3> + +<p>Bobichel unfortunately had not said too much. The fact that Fanfaro had +dropped dead so suddenly had caused great excitement in the scientific +world, and Dr. Albaret, the king's private physician, was the first to +propose the autopsy. His colleagues immediately consented, and Fanfaro +was at once brought to the Hotel Dieu and placed upon the marble table +in the anatomy room. The attendants busily rushed here and there, and +while they brought in the necessary instruments—lances, needles, +knives, saws and bandages,—numerous disciples of Esculapius stood about +the dead man and admired his beautiful proportions and strong muscles.</p> + +<p>"He could have lived to a hundred years," said the physician, as he beat +Fanfaro's breast, and his colleagues agreed with him. Fanfaro lay like a +marble statue upon the table; the dark locks covered the pale forehead, +and a painful expression lay over the firmly closed lips. Did the poor +fellow suspect that he would become a victim of science and be delivered +over to the knife?</p> + +<p>In the meantime the hall had become crowded, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[Pg 199]</a></span> when Dr. Albaret +appeared a murmur of expectation ran through the ranks of the students +and physicians.</p> + +<p>Dr. Albaret, a sturdy old man, bowed to all sides, and hastily taking +off his coat he took the dissecting knife in his hand and began to +speak: "Gentlemen! a death so sudden as this in a person apparently in +the best of health demands the attention of all physicians, and I hope +that we will be able to discover the cause of this surprising +phenomenon. There are different ways of beginning an autopsy such as +this. The German professors, for instance, make a cut from the chin to +the pit of the stomach, the Italians from the underlip to the +breast-bone, while the French—"</p> + +<p>"Dr. Albaret," cried a stentorian voice at this moment—"where is Dr. +Albaret?"</p> + +<p>The physician frowned, he did not like such interruptions, but when he +saw that the man who was hurriedly pressing through the rows of +listeners wore the livery of a royal lackey, his face became clear +again.</p> + +<p>"A message from his majesty the king," said the man breathlessly.</p> + +<p>"A message from his majesty?" repeated the physician eagerly, as he +grasped the note the messenger gave him.</p> + +<p>Hurriedly running over the few lines, Albaret nodded, and quickly +putting his coat on again, he said, in a tone of importance:</p> + +<p>"Gentlemen, much to my regret I must leave you; an urgent matter +requires my immediate attendance at the Tuileries, and I shall go there +directly."</p> + +<p>"But the autopsy?" remarked an elderly colleague.</p> + +<p>"It isn't worth the trouble to postpone it," replied<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[Pg 200]</a></span> Albaret, +indifferently; "let the poor fellow, who is stone-dead, be buried. Death +undoubtedly was produced by the bursting of a blood vessel in the brain, +and the excitement under which the deceased was laboring proves this +very clearly. Adieu, gentlemen, next time we shall make up for what we +have lost now."</p> + +<p>He hurried out. In the corridor he was stopped by the superintendent of +the hospital, who asked him to put his signature under the burial +certificate. Albaret signed it standing, got into the carriage which was +waiting at the door, and rode rapidly away, while the royal servant, who +was no other than Girdel, ran in an opposite direction, and took off his +livery in a little house where Bobichel was awaiting him.</p> + +<p>"Bobi, just in time," he breathlessly cried, "five minutes more and +Fanfaro would have been done for."</p> + +<p>Girdel's further arrangements were made with the utmost prudence. Irene +de Salves had given him unlimited credit, and the well-known proverb +that a golden key opens all doors was conclusively proved in this +particular case. The man whose duty it was to bury those who died in the +Hotel Dieu had, for a good round sum, consented to allow Girdel to do +his work, and so the athlete had nothing else to do than to clothe +himself appropriately and hurry back to the hospital.</p> + +<p>The superintendent had just ordered the hearse to be put in readiness, +when the Marquis of Fougereuse was announced. On the upper corner of the +visiting card was a peculiar mark, and hardly had he seen it than he +hurried to meet the marquis.</p> + +<p>The nobleman leaned on Pierre Labarre's arm, and returning the +superintendent's greeting, he tried to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[Pg 201]</a></span> speak, but his voice was broken +by sobs, and so he handed the official a folded paper and looked +inquiringly at him.</p> + +<p>Hardly had the official read the paper, than he respectfully observed +that the marquis's wish should be complied with, and that he would give +the necessary orders at once.</p> + +<p>The note contained an order from the Minister of Justice to hand over to +the Marquis of Fougereuse the body of Fanfaro; thus it will be seen that +the marquis's present of a million to the Society of Jesus had already +borne fruit, and Pierre Labarre felt his anger diminish when he saw for +what purpose the marquis had demanded the money. He no longer thought of +the cabinet position, he had bought the right with his million to have +the son who had never stood near to him in life buried in the Fougereuse +family vault.</p> + +<p>"I should like—to see—the deceased," stammered the broken-down father.</p> + +<p>The official bowed, and accompanied his guide up to the operating room +where Fanfaro's body still lay.</p> + +<p>The marquis sank on his knees beside the dead man, and murmured a silent +prayer; how different was the son who had fallen in a duel to the +brother whom the father had sacrificed for him.</p> + +<p>"Marquis, shall I call the carriers?" asked Pierre, gently.</p> + +<p>The nobleman nodded, and soon Fanfaro's body was laid upon a bier, which +was carried to the Fougereuse mansion by four men. The marquis and +Pierre followed the procession with uncovered heads. When they arrived +at the Fougereuse mansion, Fanfaro was laid beside his brother, and the +marquis then said:</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[Pg 202]</a></span></p><p>"There is only one thing left for me—I must bury my sons and then die +myself."</p> + +<p>"But Madame la Marquise," said Pierre, anxiously.</p> + +<p>"The marquise will have the same wish as I have to suffer for our sins," +said the marquis, frowning; "and—"</p> + +<p>At this moment Baptiste rushed into the room, and with a frightened look +exclaimed:</p> + +<p>"Madame la Marquise is nowhere to be seen, and her maid fears she has +done herself an injury—she was talking so strangely."</p> + +<p>Pierre and the marquis exchanged a silent look, and then the nobleman +gently said:</p> + +<p>"She did right. Of what further use was she in the world? Oh, I envy +her!"</p> + +<p class="center"> * * * * *</p> + +<p>Girdel and Bobichel waited almost a full hour at the rear entrance of +the Hotel Dieu. The athlete finally became impatient. He went inside of +the house and asked if the body wasn't going to be put in the hearse.</p> + +<p>"I really forgot all about it," cried the superintendent to whom Girdel +had gone for information. "The body has been taken away long ago."</p> + +<p>"Taken away?" repeated the athlete, astonished.</p> + +<p>"Yes; the Marquis of Fougereuse claimed him and took him along. I +believe he intends to bury him in his family vault."</p> + +<p>"Almighty God! Is that true?" asked Girdel, horror-stricken.</p> + +<p>"Yes, certainly; he brought carriers along, and that settled the +matter."</p> + +<p>"Where is the family vault of the Fougereuse?" asked Girdel.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[Pg 203]</a></span></p><p>"Oh, far from Paris; somewhere in Alsace, if I remember aright."</p> + +<p>"God have mercy on me!" muttered Girdel to himself.</p> + +<p>The official looked at him with amazement. What was the matter with the +man?</p> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[Pg 204]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXVI" id="CHAPTER_XXVI"></a>CHAPTER XXVI</h2> + +<h3>MISTAKEN</h3> + +<p>Before Robeckal had consented to play the part of a regicide, he had +made his conditions, and not before they were accepted had he undertaken +the job. He had been told that he would be condemned to death <i>pro +forma</i>, and set free at the right moment. He would then be given an +amount necessary for him to go to England or America and live there.</p> + +<p>Notwithstanding these promises, Robeckal felt a cold shudder run down +his back when he heard the death sentence, and when he was taken back to +jail again he impatiently awaited further developments. He thought it +very strange that he should be left to his fate, and when hour after +hour had passed and neither Simon nor any one else came to his cell, he +began to feel seriously uneasy.</p> + +<p>Suppose they no longer remembered the compact?</p> + +<p>Cold drops of perspiration stood on the wretch's forehead, and his hands +clinched nervously as these thoughts ran through his mind, and he tried +to banish them. No, that must not be done to him. The rescue must +come—he had not committed the fatal act for nothing. At last, the heavy +iron door swung open, and Vidocq, the great <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[Pg 205]</a></span>detective, entered his +cell. Robeckal knew him, and breathed more freely. Vidocq, no doubt, +came to release him.</p> + +<p>"Thank God you have come, Monsieur Vidocq," cried Robeckal to the +official; "the time was becoming rather long for me."</p> + +<p>"I am sorry that I have kept you waiting," replied Vidocq, quietly; "but +there were certain formalities to be settled, and I—"</p> + +<p>"Ah! no doubt in regard to the money?" said Robeckal, laughing. "Have +you brought the yellow birds along?"</p> + +<p>"Slowly, slowly—first let me inform you that the death sentence has +been torn up."</p> + +<p>"Really? I did not expect anything else."</p> + +<p>"You do not say so," observed the official, ironically. "Then you +already know your fate?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I am going to England and from there to America."</p> + +<p>"I don't know anything about that; my information is that you will not +leave France."</p> + +<p>Robeckal's face became a shade paler, still he did not lose courage.</p> + +<p>"Where am I to be sent?" he hastily asked.</p> + +<p>"For the present to the south of France."</p> + +<p>"To—the—south—of—France," repeated Robeckal.</p> + +<p>"To Toulon."</p> + +<p>"To Toulon?" cried the wretch, in terror. "That is impossible!"</p> + +<p>"And why should it be impossible?" asked Vidocq, smiling maliciously.</p> + +<p>"Because—because," stammered Robeckal, faintly, "the sentence—"</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[Pg 206]</a></span></p><p>"Was death by strangulation. Thanks to the efforts of your friends, it +has been commuted to the galleys for life, and I think you ought to be +satisfied with the change."</p> + +<p>"But—the—promise?" whined the criminal. "But, come, now, you are only +joking?"</p> + +<p>"I never joke," said the detective, earnestly; "besides, you must have +been very innocent to imagine any one would make a compact with a +scoundrel like you. It would be a crime against society to allow you to +continue your bad course. No, thank God, the judges in France know their +duty."</p> + +<p>With these words, Vidocq beckoned to four muscular men to enter the +cell. They seized Robeckal and put handcuffs and chains on him, in spite +of his cries and entreaties. As the wretch continued to shout louder, a +gag was put in his mouth, and in less than a quarter of an hour he was +on the way to Toulon, which place he never left alive.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[Pg 207]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXVII" id="CHAPTER_XXVII"></a>CHAPTER XXVII</h2> + +<h3>FREEDOM</h3> + +<p>In a poor fisherman's cottage in Havre a young man was walking up and +down in feverish uneasiness. From time to time he looked through the +window which opened on to the sea. The waves ran high, the wind +whistled, while dark clouds rolled over the starless sky.</p> + +<p>A slight knock was now heard at the door of the cottage.</p> + +<p>"Who is there?" asked the young man, anxiously.</p> + +<p>"We are looking for Fanfaro," came from the outside; and, when the man +hastily shoved back the bolt, two slim female forms, enveloped in dark +cloaks, crossed the threshold.</p> + +<p>Before the young man had time to greet the strangers, another knock was +heard, and upon the question, "Who is there?" the answer came this time, +in a soft, trembling voice:</p> + +<p>"We have been sent here to find Fanfaro."</p> + +<p>"Come in," cried the young man, eagerly; and two more female forms +entered the cottage. One of them was young and strong; the other, old, +gray-haired and broken-down, clung to her companion, who almost carried +her.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[Pg 208]</a></span></p><p>They all looked silently at each other; finally, one of those who had +first entered let her cloak, the hood of which she wore over her head, +sink down, and, turning to the young man, she vivaciously said:</p> + +<p>"Arthur, have you sent me this invitation?"</p> + +<p>With these words, she handed Arthur de Montferrand, for he was the young +man, the following note:</p> + +<blockquote><p>"Whoever wants to see Fanfaro once more should come to the +fisherman's cottage of Antoine Michel, in Havre, on the 18th day of +March."</p></blockquote> + +<p>"I received a similar invitation," said Arthur. "I was told, at the same +time, to come in the afternoon; to answer any inquiries that might be +made; and to see that no stranger be admitted. Who invited us here, I do +not know; but I think we shall not be kept waiting long for an +explanation."</p> + +<p>"As God pleases, this hope may be confirmed," replied Irene de Salves, +and turning to her companion, who was softly sobbing, she whispered +consolingly to her: "Courage, Louison, you will soon embrace your +brother."</p> + +<p>The two other women were Caillette and Louise; the latter looked +vacantly before her, and all of Louison's caresses were of no avail to +cheer her.</p> + +<p>"Jacques—where is Jacques?" she incessantly repeated, and the fact that +Louison was really her daughter seemed to have entirely escaped her.</p> + +<p>Arthur de Montferrand never turned his eyes from the girl for whose +honor he had fought so bravely, and every time Louison looked up she met +the eyes of the young nobleman.</p> + +<p>A skyrocket now shot up in the dark sky; it exploded<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[Pg 209]</a></span> aloft with a loud +noise, and a golden rain lighted up the horizon for a while.</p> + +<p>"That was undoubtedly a good sign," thought Arthur, hastily opening the +cottage door.</p> + +<p>Loud oar-sounds were now heard, and a light boat struck for the shore +with the rapidity of an arrow.</p> + +<p>The keel now struck the sand and a slim form sprang quickly out of the +bark and hurried toward the cottage.</p> + +<p>"Fanfaro!" joyously exclaimed the inmates of the cottage, and the young +man who had been rescued from the grave was soon surrounded on all +sides. He, however, had eyes alone for the broken-down old woman who +clung to Caillette in great excitement and gently implored:</p> + +<p>"Jacques—where is Jacques? I do not see him!"</p> + +<p>"Here I am, my poor dear mother," sobbed Fanfaro, sinking on his knees +in front of the old lady.</p> + +<p>With trembling hands she caressed his hair, pressed her lips upon her +son's forehead, and then sank, with a smile, to the floor. Death had +released her from her sufferings after she had been permitted to enjoy +the last, and, to her, highest earthly joy.</p> + +<p class="center"> * * * * *</p> + +<p>Here Fanfaro's story ended. Girdel knew something to add to it after +Fanfaro had closed. He and Bobichel had succeeded in overtaking the +funeral cortege which the marquis and Pierre Labarre conducted to the +family vault. In a few words Pierre was informed of the condition of +things, and as the marquis had become thoroughly exhausted, the faithful +old servant had undertaken to bring Fanfaro's body to a place of safety. +Girdel had been prudent enough to take along the physician who had given +him the narcotic, and soon Fanfaro opened his eyes.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[Pg 210]</a></span></p><p>As soon as he had sufficiently recovered, Pierre told him, in short +outlines, who he was. The young man listened with deep emotion to the +story, and then he swore a sacred oath that he would never call another +man father than the one who had taken pity on him, the helpless child; +the Marquis of Fougereuse had no right to him, and he would rather have +died than touch a penny of his money. No power on earth could induce him +to have anything to do with the marquis. He would leave France, and try +to forget, in a foreign country, what he had suffered.</p> + +<p>That very night Fanfaro travelled, in company with his sister, Girdel, +Bobichel, and Caillette, to Algiers. Before the ship lifted anchor, +Fanfaro had received from Irene's lips the promise that she would become +his wife. Her mother's life hung on a thread, and as long as she +remained on earth the daughter could not think of leaving her.</p> + +<p>The old countess died about six months afterward, and as soon as Irene +had arranged her affairs, she prepared herself for the journey to +Africa.</p> + +<p>She was not surprised when Arthur offered to accompany her. She was +aware that a powerful magnet in the person of Louison attracted him +across the ocean, and when the young nobleman landed in France again, +after the lapse of a few months, he was accompanied by a handsome young +wife, whom the old Marquis of Montferrand warmly welcomed to the home of +his fathers—for was she not a scion of the house of Fougereuse, and the +sole heiress of all the property of that family? Louison's uncle, the +Marquis Jean de Fougereuse, had ended his dreary life shortly after the +Vicomte de Talizac's death, and it was not difficult for Arthur, with +Pierre Labarre's assistance, to maintain Louison's claims as the +daughter of Jules de Fougereuse and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[Pg 211]</a></span> sole heiress of the legacy. Of +course, the Society of Jesus was much put out by the sudden apparition +of an heiress, for it had hoped to come into possession of the millions +some day.</p> + +<p>Bobichel had become Caillette's husband; and though the handsome wife +did not conceal the fact from him that not he, but Fanfaro, had been her +first love, the supremely happy clown was satisfied. He knew Caillette +was good to him and that he had no ground any more to be jealous of +Irene's husband.</p> + +<p>The life which the colonists led in Africa was full of dangers, but had +also its pleasures and joys, and through Louison and her husband they +remained in connection with their fatherland, whose children they +remained in spite of everything.</p> + +<p class="center"> * * * * *</p> + +<p>At the end of a week Spero had entirely recovered, and the count +prepared to depart for France. Before he parted from his kind host, he +turned to Fanfaro and begged him in a solemn tone to stand by his son +with his assistance and advice, should he ever need them, and Fanfaro +cheerfully complied with his request.</p> + +<p>"Rely on my word," he said, as the little caravan was about to start. +"The son of the Count of Monte-Cristo is under the protection of all of +us, and if he should ever call us to his assistance, whether by day or +night, we shall obey the call!"</p> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[Pg 212]</a></span></p> + +<h2>CHAPTER XXVII</h2> + +<h3>BENEDETTO'S REVENGE</h3> + +<blockquote><p class="center"><i>A Letter of the Count of Monte-Cristo to his son, Vicomte Spero</i></p> + +<p>"<span class="smcap">My Dearly Beloved Son</span>—To-day is the anniversary of your rescue +from the hands of that terrible Maldar, and although twelve years +have passed since then, I still feel the effects of the fright I +sustained. Thanks to faithful friends, you were saved to us; God +bless them for it, and give you and me an opportunity to repay them +for what they have done for us.</p> + +<p>"In regard to myself this opportunity must come soon, for I have +passed my sixtieth year, and my strength is failing.</p> + +<p>"Yes, my dear Spero, your father, who was to you the incarnation of +energy, is now only a broken-down man; since my poor wife died, all +is over with the Count of Monte-Cristo. Five years, five long +years, have passed since your dear mother breathed her last in my +arms, and I, who never wept before, have cried like a child. How +insignificant, how feeble I thought myself when I saw the cheeks of +my dear wife become paler day by day and her beautiful eyes lose +their sparkle. What good was all the art and science I had learned +from the Abbé Faria to me if I could not rescue her? Like avenging +spirits, the shades of all those upon whom I had taken revenge +rose<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[Pg 213]</a></span> up before me: Villefort, Danglars, Morcerf, Benedetto, +Maldar, had all been overcome by me, but death was stronger than I +am—it took her from me!</p> + +<p>"My blood, my life, I would have given for that of your mother, but +it was all of no use, death would not give up its prey. At that +time, my dear son, you were sixteen years old. Your tears mingled +with mine and you cried out in deep grief: 'Ah, mother, if I could +only die for you!'</p> + +<p>"Spero, do you know what it is to feel that a person has deceived +himself? I spent my life to carry out what I thought to be right, +the punishment of wrong-doers and the rewarding of those who do +good. I was all-powerful as long as it was a question of punishing +the guilty, but as weak and feeble as a child when I attempted to +make good the wrong I did in an excess of zeal, and all my tears +and entreaties were of no avail.</p> + +<p>"What good did it do that I rescued Albert, the son of the Countess +Mercedes, from the murderous flames of Uargla? Two years later he +was shot in the <i>coup d'état</i> of December, and his mother died of a +broken heart.</p> + +<p>"Maximilian Morrel and Valentine de Villefort met an early and a +fearful death—they fell victims to the insurrection of the Sepoys +in India, in the year 1859.</p> + +<p>"You inherited from your mother everything that is good, noble, and +sublime; from me a thirst for knowledge, energy, and activity. +Would to God I could say that you did not also inherit my +arrogance, my venomous arrogance. Spero, by the time you receive +this letter, I shall be far away; yes, I am going away, and +voluntarily place upon myself the heaviest burden, but it must be.</p> + +<p>"Will you be able to understand me and my motives?<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">[Pg 214]</a></span> Ah, Spero, I +cannot help domineering over those about me, and that is why I am +going.</p> + +<p>"So long as you are at my side, you are not yourself. You look at +life with my eyes, you judge according to my ideas, and my opinion +is decisive for you in everything you do and think.</p> + +<p>"You do not regard me as a man, but as a supernatural being. Far +from me you will learn the meaning of responsibility for one's +acts, and if not now, later on, you will be grateful to me for this +temporary separation.</p> + +<p>"Spero, I have furnished you with the best weapons for the struggle +of life, and it is about time that you take up your arms and begin +your first battle with life.</p> + +<p>"You are now twenty-one years of age. You are brave and courageous, +and will not shrink from any obstacle. You are rich, you have +knowledge—now it must be seen whether you possess the will which +guarantees success.</p> + +<p>"Your path is smooth—no enemy threatens you, and a crowd of +friends stand at your side. I have never had a real friend. Those +who acted as such were either servants or poor people, and only +those who are situated similarly and think alike can understand the +blessings of friendship.</p> + +<p>"My son! give generously, believe in humanity, and do not distrust +any one; real experience is gained only by mistakes.</p> + +<p>"Murder is the worst crime, for it can never be made good again. Of +the old servants, I shall leave only Coucou with you. He is devoted +to you and loves you enthusiastically. The brave Zouave will yearn +for me, but console him by telling him I have gone for your good +and tell yourself the same thing, should you feel likewise. With +best love,</p> + +<p class="right"><span class="smcap">Your Father.</span>"</p></blockquote> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">[Pg 215]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXVIII" id="CHAPTER_XXVIII"></a>CHAPTER XXVIII</h2> + +<h3>SPERO</h3> + +<p>The Vicomte of Monte-Cristo was a wonderfully handsome man. The grace of +his mother and the stalwart build of his father were united in him. His +dark hair fell in wavy locks over his high white forehead, and the long +eyelashes lay like veils upon his cheeks.</p> + +<p>The young man's surroundings were in every particular arranged with +consummate taste. The vicomte had inherited from his parents a taste for +Oriental things, and his study looked like a costly tent, while his +bedroom was furnished with the simplicity of a convent cell. The Count +of Monte-Cristo had taught his son to be strict to himself and not +become effeminate in any way. Nice pictures and statues were in the +parlors, the bookcase was filled with selected volumes and he spent many +hours each day in serious studies. Spero was a master in all physical +accomplishments. His father's iron muscles were his legacy, and the +count often proudly thought that his son, in case of need, would also +have found the means and the way to escape from the Chateau d'If.</p> + +<p>The vicomte sat at his writing-desk and was reading<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">[Pg 216]</a></span> his father's letter +when Coucou entered. The Zouave had changed somewhat. He no longer wore +a uniform or the little cap of a Jackal, but had changed them for a dark +brown overcoat. His eyes, however, still sparkled as merrily as ever, +and Coucou could laugh as heartily as ever.</p> + +<p>"When did the count leave the house?" asked Spero, whose voice reminded +one of his father's.</p> + +<p>"This evening, vicomte," replied Coucou, with military briefness.</p> + +<p>"Why was I not called?"</p> + +<p>"The count forbade it. He ordered me to place the letter which you found +on the writing-table and—"</p> + +<p>"Did the count go alone?"</p> + +<p>"No, Ali accompanied him."</p> + +<p>"In what direction did he go?"</p> + +<p>"I do not know. I was called to the count at two o'clock this morning, +and after I had received the letter, I went away."</p> + +<p>"Without asking any questions?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, vicomte, no one asks the Count of Monte-Cristo for a reason," cried +Coucou, vivaciously. "I am not a coward, but—"</p> + +<p>"I know you possess courage," replied the young man.</p> + +<p>"<i>Sapristi</i>—there, now, I have allowed myself to go again. I know that +my way of speaking displeases you, vicomte, and I will try next time to +do better."</p> + +<p>"What makes you think that your language displeases me?" asked Spero, +laughing.</p> + +<p>"Because—excuse me, vicomte, but sometimes you look so stern—"</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">[Pg 217]</a></span></p><p>"Nonsense," interrupted Spero; "I may sometimes look troubled, but +certainly not stern, and I beg you not to speak differently from what +you were taught—speak to me as you do to my father."</p> + +<p>"Ah, it is easy to speak to the count," said Coucou, unthinkingly; "he +has such a cheering smile—"</p> + +<p>A frown passed over Spero's face, and he gently said:</p> + +<p>"My father is good—he is much better than I am—I knew it long ago."</p> + +<p>"Vicomte, I did not say that," cried the Zouave, embarrassed.</p> + +<p>"No, but you thought so, and were perfectly right, my dear Auguste; if +you wish to have me for a friend, always tell the truth."</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir," replied Coucou, "and now I have a special favor to ask you, +vicomte."</p> + +<p>"Speak, it is already granted."</p> + +<p>"Vicomte, the count never calls me Auguste, which is my baptismal name, +but Coucou. If you would call me Coucou, I—"</p> + +<p>"With pleasure. Well, then, Coucou, you know nothing further?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing."</p> + +<p>"It is good. You can go."</p> + +<p>The Zouave turned toward the door. When he had nearly reached it, Spero +cried:</p> + +<p>"Coucou, stay a moment."</p> + +<p>"Just as you say, vicomte."</p> + +<p>"I only wished to beg you again," said Spero, in a low, trembling voice, +"not to think me stern or ungrateful. I shall never forget that it was +you who <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">[Pg 218]</a></span>accompanied my father and me to Africa, and that you placed +your own life in danger to rescue mine."</p> + +<p>"Ah, vicomte," stammered the Zouave, deeply moved, "that was only my +duty."</p> + +<p>"That a good many would have shirked this duty, and that you did not, is +why I thank you still to-day. Give me your hand in token of our +friendship. Now we are good friends again, are we not?"</p> + +<p>With tears in his laughing eyes, Coucou laid his big brown hand in the +delicate hand of the vicomte. The latter cordially shook it, and was +almost frightened, when the Zouave uttered a faint cry and hastily +withdrew his fingers.</p> + +<p>"What is the matter with you?" asked Spero, in amazement.</p> + +<p>"Oh, nothing, but—"</p> + +<p>"Well, but—"</p> + +<p>"You see, vicomte, my hand is almost crushed, and because I was not +prepared for it, I gave a slight cry. Who would have thought that such a +fine, white, delicate hand could give you a squeeze like a piston-rod?"</p> + +<p>Spero looked wonderingly at his hands, and then dreamily said:</p> + +<p>"I am stronger than I thought."</p> + +<p>"I think so, too," said Coucou. "Only the count understands how to +squeeze one's hand in that way. I almost forgot to ask you, vicomte, +where you intend to take breakfast?"</p> + +<p>"Downstairs in the dining-room."</p> + +<p>"Are you going to breakfast alone?"</p> + +<p>"That depends. Perhaps one of my friends may drop in, though I haven't +invited any one."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">[Pg 219]</a></span></p><p>"Please ring the bell in case you want to be served," said Coucou, as +he left the room.</p> + +<p>Spero stood at the writing-desk for a time, and his dark eyes were +humid. He shoved a brown velvet curtain aside and entered a small, dark +room which opened from his study. A pressure of the finger upon the +blinds caused them to spring open, and the broad daylight streamed +through the high windows. The walls, which were hung with brown velvet, +formed an octagon, and opposite the broad windows were two pictures in +gold frames. The vicomte's look rested on these pictures. They were the +features of his parents which had been placed upon the canvas by the +hand of an artist. In all her goodness, Haydee, Ali Tebelen's daughter, +looked down upon her son, and the bold, proud face of Edmond Dantes +greeted his heir with a speaking look.</p> + +<p>"Ah, my mother," whispered Spero, softly, "if you were only with me now +that father has left me. How shall I get along in life without him? The +future looks blank and dark to me, the present sad, and only the past is +worth having lived for! What a present the proud name is that was laid +in my cradle. Others see bright light where the shadow threatens to +suffocate me, and my heart trembles when I think that I am standing in +the labyrinth of life without a guide!"</p> + +<p>From this it can be seen that the count had not exaggerated in his +letter to his son. He domineered, consciously or unconsciously, over his +surroundings, and so it happened that Spero hardly dared to express a +thought of his own.</p> + +<p>Spero was never heard to praise or admire this or that, before he had +first inquired whether such an <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">[Pg 220]</a></span>opinion would be proper to express. The +father recognized too late that his son lacked independence of thought. +He had, as he thought, schooled his son for the battle of life. He had +taught him how to carry the weapons, but in his anxiety about exterior +and trivial things he had forgotten to make allowance for the inward +yearning. The form was more to him than the contents, and this was +revenging itself now in a telling way. The demands of ordinary life were +unknown to Spero. He had put his arm in the burning flame with the +courage of a Mucius Scævola, and quailed before the prick of a needle.</p> + +<p>Suddenly the door-bell rang, and breathing more freely the vicomte left +the little room. When he returned to his study he found Coucou awaiting +him. The Zouave presented a visiting card to the vicomte on a silver +salver, and hardly had Spero thrown a look at it, when he joyfully +cried:</p> + +<p>"Bring the gentleman to the dining-room, Coucou, and put two covers on; +we shall dine together."</p> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">[Pg 221]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXIX" id="CHAPTER_XXIX"></a>CHAPTER XXIX</h2> + +<h3>FORWARD, MARCH</h3> + +<p>When Spero entered the dining-room, a handsome young man about +twenty-five years of age hurried toward him with outstretched arms.</p> + +<p>"How are you, my dear Spero?" he vivaciously cried.</p> + +<p>"Oh, thank you, very well. Do you know, Gontram, that you couldn't have +come at a more appropriate hour?"</p> + +<p>"Really? That pleases me," said the new-comer, a painter who in spite of +his youth enjoyed a great reputation. Laying his hand on Spero's +shoulder, he looked steadily at him and earnestly asked: "Has anything +disagreeable happened to you?"</p> + +<p>"No; what makes you think so?" replied Spero, confused.</p> + +<p>"Your appearance is different from usual. Your eyes sparkle, and you are +feverishly excited. Perhaps you have some secret to intrust to me?"</p> + +<p>In the meantime the young men had seated themselves at table, and while +they were eating they indulged in general conversation.</p> + +<p>"Do you know that my father has left Paris suddenly?" asked Spero in the +course of the conversation.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">[Pg 222]</a></span></p><p>"No. Where has the count gone to?"</p> + +<p>"I do not know," said the vicomte.</p> + +<p>Gontram Sabran had been acquainted with Spero for two years.</p> + +<p>He had attracted the vicomte's attention through a picture he had +exhibited, and as Spero admired painting, he paid a visit to the creator +of the wonderfully natural painting.</p> + +<p>The picture represented a young gypsy who was playing the violin. The +vicomte sent his father's steward to the artist with an order to buy the +canvas at any price. Gontram Sabran had refused to sell the painting, +and the vicomte went personally to the painter.</p> + +<p>"Sir," said Gontram, politely, "you offered me twenty thousand francs +for a picture which is worth far less; that I have nevertheless refused +to sell the picture needs an explanation, and if you are willing, I +shall be happy to give it to you."</p> + +<p>Spero had become curious, and upon his acquiescence Gontram told him the +following.</p> + +<p>"I had a girl once who suffered from an incurable disease. We were very +happy together, enjoyed the present, and thought very little of the +future. One day, as was customary with us, we undertook a little +promenade. It led us however further than we intended to go, and before +we knew it we were in the woods of Meudon. Curious and wonderful sounds +awoke us from our reveries, and going to an opening, we saw a young +gypsy who was playing the violin and moving her body to and fro to the +time of the instrument. Aimee listened attentively to the heavenly +playing of the almost childish girl, but suddenly I felt her head lean +heavily on my shoulder—she<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">[Pg 223]</a></span> had fainted, and I brought a very sick girl +back to Paris.</p> + +<p>"One week later death knocked at her door. Aimee knew she was going to +die, and with tears in her eyes she begged me to hunt up the gypsy girl +and have her play a song to her before she died.</p> + +<p>"What was I to do? I could not find the gypsy, and was almost in +despair. On the morning of the fourth day, the invalid suddenly rose in +her bed and cried aloud:</p> + +<p>"'There she is, I hear the gypsy's violin—oh, now I can die peacefully! +Open the window, Gontram, so that I can hear the music better.'</p> + +<p>"I did as she said, and now the tones of the violin reached my ears. The +dying girl listened breathlessly to the sweet sounds. When the song was +over, Aimee took my hand and whispered:</p> + +<p>"'Bring her up and beg her to play at my bedside.'</p> + +<p>"I hurried into the street and asked the gypsy to fulfil the wish of the +dying girl. She did so at once, and sitting beside Aimee she played upon +her instrument. How long she played I do not know, but I was thrilled by +the sudden cessation of the music, and when I looked in terror at Aimee, +I saw she had drawn her last breath—she had gone to her eternal slumber +to the music of the violin.</p> + +<p>"The gypsy disappeared, and I have never seen her since. But I have put +her features on canvas as they are engraved in my memory, and you can +understand now why I do not wish to sell the picture."</p> + +<p>"Monsieur Sabran," said Spero when the painter had<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">[Pg 224]</a></span> finished, "your +little romance is interesting, and I am now ready to pay fifty thousand +francs for the picture."</p> + +<p>Gontram looked pityingly at the vicomte and dryly replied:</p> + +<p>"I stick to my refusal."</p> + +<p>Spero went away disappointed. Two days later he hurried to the painter's +studio and hesitatingly said:</p> + +<p>"Monsieur Sabran, I treated you the other day in a mean way. Please +excuse me."</p> + +<p>Gontram was surprised. Taking the vicomte's hand, he cordially said:</p> + +<p>"I am glad I was mistaken in you; if features such as yours are +deceitful, then it is bad for humanity."</p> + +<p>From that day on they became firm friends. When the painter saw Spero's +disturbed features on this particular day, and heard that the count had +departed, he had an idea that it would do him good.</p> + +<p>"Where did your father go to?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"I do not know," replied Spero, uneasily.</p> + +<p>"What? Your father did not inform you?" asked Gontram.</p> + +<p>"No," replied Spero; "he departed this evening and left a letter for me +behind him."</p> + +<p>"Ah, really, every one does as he pleases," said Gontram. "Do you know I +came here to-day to ask a favor of you?"</p> + +<p>"You couldn't do me a greater pleasure," replied Spero, cheerfully; +"everything I possess is at your disposal."</p> + +<p>"I thought so; the next time you will offer me your millions," cried +Gontram, laughing.</p> + +<p>"I hope you will ask me for something besides<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">[Pg 225]</a></span> wretched money," said +Spero, warmly. "I could gladly fight for you, or do some other important +service for you."</p> + +<p>"And suppose I was to keep you at your word?" asked Gontram, seriously; +"suppose I came here only to demand a sacrifice of you?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, speak!" cried the vicomte, eagerly.</p> + +<p>"H'm, would you for my sake get on top of a stage?" asked Gontram, +earnestly. "No, do not look so curiously at me. I know you never did +such a thing before, and knew what I was talking about when I said I +would ask a sacrifice of you."</p> + +<p>"I—would—do it—to please you," replied Spero, hesitatingly.</p> + +<p>"I thought so," cried the painter, laughing; "yet I made you the +proposition, because I thought you were boring yourself to death here."</p> + +<p>"But—"</p> + +<p>"No, do not protest. You are not happy because you are the slave of +propriety, and if you were to get in a stage with me it would be a +heroic act on your part. If you want to go out, a carriage is at the +door, the horses already harnessed. You have your own box at the +theatre, and so on. Nowhere do you come in contact with the great world; +your life is no life."</p> + +<p>Spero gazed at the painter in astonishment.</p> + +<p>"Why have you not told me all that long ago?" he slowly asked.</p> + +<p>"Because a great deal depends on time and opportunity. If I had told you +this at the commencement of our friendship you would have thought me +impertinent, and I did not come here to-day either to give you a +lecture.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226">[Pg 226]</a></span> The words came unconsciously to my lips. Your life is that of +a drop of oil which when put in a bottle of water feels itself in a +strange element and decidedly uncomfortable."</p> + +<p>Spero bit his lip.</p> + +<p>"Am I ever going to hear what service I can do for you?" he asked with a +calmness which reflected honor on his powers of self-control.</p> + +<p>"Bravo, you have already learned something. First fill your wine-glass, +otherwise I shall drink all your fine sherry alone."</p> + +<p>The habit of drinking moderately Spero had also learned from his father.</p> + +<p>Upon the remark of the painter, he filled his glass and impatiently +said:</p> + +<p>"Well?"</p> + +<p>"I would like to make a loan. Don't laugh, but hear what I have to say. +I intend to give a little party in my studio—"</p> + +<p>"In your studio?" said Spero in surprise.</p> + +<p>"Yes, it is certainly not as large as the Place Vendome, but that +doesn't matter. Diogenes lived in a hogshead, and a dozen good friends +will find plenty of room in my house. Let me tell you what gave me the +idea. While I was studying in Rome, an aristocratic Italian, Count +Vellini, took an interest in me. He was my friend, my Macænas, and I owe +a great deal to him. The day before yesterday he arrived in Paris, and I +should like to revenge myself for his kindness. As he is a +millionnaire—not a millionnaire like you, for he has, at the utmost, +five or six millions—I must offer him certain pleasures which cannot be +obtained with money. I am going to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227">[Pg 227]</a></span> turn my studio into a picture +gallery and exhibit the best works of my numerous friends and my own. He +shall see that I have become something in the meantime, and from what I +know of him he will be delighted with my idea. I want to furnish my +house properly, and for this I need some costly tapestries. You have +real treasures of this description. Would you loan me a few pieces?"</p> + +<p>"Is that all?" said Spero, cordially. "You give me joy, and I hope you +will allow me to attend to it."</p> + +<p>"That depends. What do you intend to do?"</p> + +<p>"I would like to ask you to let my decorator take charge of the +furnishing of your studio. To-morrow morning he can select from my +storehouse whatever he thinks best—"</p> + +<p>"And spoil my fun?" interrupted Gontram, frowning. "No, no, I cannot +consent to that. Your decorator may be a very able man, but that isn't +the question. I know of no greater pleasure than to do everything +according to my own taste. But I had almost forgotten the principal +thing; I count on your appearance."</p> + +<p>"I generally work at night," replied Spero, hesitating.</p> + +<p>"No rule without an exception," declared the painter; "I have invited +ladies too, and I hope you will enjoy yourself."</p> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228">[Pg 228]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXX" id="CHAPTER_XXX"></a>CHAPTER XXX</h2> + +<h3>JANE ZILD</h3> + +<p>On the night of the party, Gontram's room looked lovely, and when the +guests arrived they could not refrain from expressing their admiration. +The Oriental hangings gave the whole a piquant appearance, and Gontram +knew where to stop, an art which few understand. The society which +assembled in the painter's studio was a very exceptional one. Many a +rich banker would have given a great deal if he could have won some of +the artists who assembled here for his private <i>soirées</i>, for the first +stars of the opera, the drama and literature had accepted the +invitation. Rachel had offered to do the honors; Emma Bouges, a +sculptress, assisted her, and Gontram was satisfied.</p> + +<p>The painter had told the vicomte that he desired to revenge himself upon +Count Vellini. The other reason he had for giving this party he said +nothing of, and yet it was the one which did honor to his heart. Under +the pretence of surprising the count, he had asked his numerous friends +to loan him their pictures, and had hung them in splendid style. Of his +own works he only exhibited the gypsy, and when the guests strode up and +down the studio to the music of a small orchestra, it was natural that +they criticised or admired this and that painting.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">[Pg 229]</a></span></p><p>Count Vellini, a splendid old gentleman, was enthusiastic over the +cause of the party. He gave the secretary who accompanied him directions +to buy several of the exhibited paintings, and the secretary carefully +noted everything.</p> + +<p>Signor Fagiano, the secretary, was not a very agreeable-looking +gentleman. A blood-red scar ran clear across his face, his deep black +eyes had a sharp, restless look, and one of the young partners jokingly +said:</p> + +<p>"If I did not know that Signor Fagiano had charge of the count's +finances, I would suspect him of robbing his employer—he has a bad +look."</p> + +<p>While the young man uttered these joking remarks, new guests were +announced, and their names, "Monsieur de Larsagny and Mademoiselle de +Larsagny," created surprise among the guests. Monsieur de Larsagny was +the manager of the new credit-bank, and every one was astonished at +Gontram's acquaintance with him. However, as soon as Mademoiselle de +Larsagny was seen to enter the room leaning on her father's arm, the +riddle was solved. The classical head of the young girl graced the last +<i>salon</i>, and as Gontram had painted the picture, no one wondered any +longer at seeing the handsome Carmen and her father in the studio.</p> + +<p>The young girl appeared to be somewhat eccentric, a thing which was not +looked upon as strange in the daughter of a millionnaire. Nevertheless, +the pranks of the young heiress never overstepped the bounds of +propriety, and the numerous admirers of the beautiful Carmen thought her +on this account all the more piquant. Her ash-blond hair fell in a +thousand locks over a <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230">[Pg 230]</a></span>dazzling white forehead, and the small, finely +formed mouth understood how to talk.</p> + +<p>Hanging to Gontram's arm, Carmen walked up and down the studio. She +sometimes directed her dark-blue eyes at the young painter, and who +could scold Gontram if he loved to look in those magnificent stars?</p> + +<p>"I am thankful to you, mademoiselle, for having come here," said +Gontram, sparkling with joy, as he walked by the young girl's side.</p> + +<p>"How could I have refused your cordial invitation?" replied Carmen, +laughing; "even princesses have visited the studios of their court +painters."</p> + +<p>"The Duchess of Ferrara, for instance," said a young sculptor who had +overheard the remark.</p> + +<p>Gontram frowned, and whispered softly to the young artist:</p> + +<p>"You ought to be ashamed of yourself, Raoul."</p> + +<p>Carmen, however, laughed, and carelessly said:</p> + +<p>"Let him alone; I knew the story long ago."</p> + +<p>To make this little scene understood, we must observe that the young +sculptor's words referred to that Duchess of Ferrara whom Titian painted +in the primitive costume of Mother Eve, and it stung the young painter +to the heart when he heard Carmen confess that she had heard the story +before—who could have told it to the nineteen-year-old girl?</p> + +<p>"What about the surprise you were going to give your guests?" asked +Carmen, after an uncomfortable pause.</p> + +<p>"I will keep my word," replied the painter, laughing. "Have you ever +heard the name of Jane Zild, mademoiselle?"</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">[Pg 231]</a></span></p><p>"Jane Zild? That wonderful songstress who comes from the north, either +Lapland or Finland? What is the matter with her?"</p> + +<p>"Well, this songstress, who, by the way, comes from Russia, has promised +to be here to-night," declared Gontram, triumphantly.</p> + +<p>"Ah, really?" replied Carmen, breathing heavily, while her eyes shot +forth threatening gleams.</p> + +<p>"What ails you, mademoiselle?" asked Gontram uneasily, "have I hurt you +in any way?"</p> + +<p>"No; what makes you think so? But let us go to the parlor; my father is +already looking for me, and you know he can't be long without me."</p> + +<p>A curious laugh issued from the pale lips, and it seemed to Gontram as +if she had accented the words "my father" in a peculiar way.</p> + +<p>Just as Gontram and his companion re-entered the parlor, a short but +unpleasant scene was being acted there. An accident had brought Signor +Fagiano and Monsieur de Larsagny together. Hardly had the secretary +caught a glimpse of the banker than he recoiled in affright and nearly +fell to the ground. Larsagny sprang to his rescue, but Fagiano muttered +an excuse and hastily left the parlor.</p> + +<p>Carmen and her companion were witnesses of the meeting, and Gontram felt +the young girl's arm tremble. Before he could ask for the cause of this, +she laughed aloud and mockingly said:</p> + +<p>"A good host has generally several surprises <i>in petto</i> for his guests; +are you an exception to the general rule?"</p> + +<p>Gontram was about to reply when the door was opened and the servant +announced:</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232">[Pg 232]</a></span></p><p>"Mademoiselle Jane Zild, the Vicomte of Monte-Cristo!"</p> + +<p>"There you have my second surprise," said the painter, laughing; "are +you satisfied now?"</p> + +<p>Gontram did not find out whether this was the case, for the broker +uttered a cry at the same moment and stretched his hands out as if to +ward off a spectre.</p> + +<p>"What has happened to you, Monsieur de Larsagny?" asked Gontram in +amazement. "You are so pale and you tremble. Can I do anything for you?"</p> + +<p>"No, thank you—it is the heat," stammered Larsagny. "Will you permit me +to go on the terrace? I will recover in the fresh air."</p> + +<p>Without deigning to notice Carmen, the banker turned toward the glass +door which led to the terrace and disappeared. The young girl bit her +lips, and the next minute she was the centre of a gay crowd of admirers.</p> + +<p>Gontram in the meantime had gone to meet the young lady who had just +entered. She was a wonderfully handsome girl, and taking the painter's +arm she slowly walked through the decorated rooms.</p> + +<p>Who Jane Zild was no one knew. Two months previously she had made her +appearance in Paris society, and since then it was considered good form +to patronize Jane Zild.</p> + +<p>The members of the Opera and other theatres had arranged a performance +for the relief of the inhabitants of a village which had been destroyed +by fire, and the elegant world of the capital fairly grew wild with +enthusiasm over the coming event.</p> + +<p>The climax of the performance was to be a duet, to be sung by the great +Roger and a diva who was past her<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">[Pg 233]</a></span> youth. Half an hour before the number +was to be sung a messenger arrived who announced the sickness of the +diva. Roger immediately declared his willingness to sing alone, and loud +applause ran through the crowded auditorium when he sang the charming +song from the "White Lady," "Ah, what a joy it is to be a soldier!"</p> + +<p>The success of the first part of the concert was assured. Before the +second part began a strange young lady went to the celebrated singer and +offered to take the part of Madame X——, and sing several songs.</p> + +<p>"What is your name, mademoiselle?" asked Roger.</p> + +<p>"My name will be unknown to you, as I have only been two days in Paris," +replied the stranger, laughing. "I am Jane Zild. Perhaps you will allow +me to sing something to you first. Will the beggar aria from the +'Prophet' be agreeable to you?"</p> + +<p>Without waiting for answer Jane Zild went to the piano.</p> + +<p>The accompanist struck the first notes of the well-known aria, and +hardly had Roger heard the magnificent contralto of the stranger than he +enthusiastically exclaimed:</p> + +<p>"Thank God, Madame X—— is sick!"</p> + +<p>"That is treason!" scolded the young lady; but the public seemed to be +of the same opinion as Roger, and rewarded the young songstress, when +she had finished, with round after round of applause. Encouraged by the +applause, she sang the aria from "Orpheus"—"Ah, I have lost her, all my +happiness is gone." This set the audience wild.</p> + +<p>For two days nothing else was talked of in Paris but the young +songstress. Jane Zild lived in a house in the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">[Pg 234]</a></span> Champs-Elysées. She had +arrived, as she said, but a few days before from Russia, in company with +an elderly man, who was looked upon as her steward, and whom she called +Melosan.</p> + +<p>The reporters had seized upon these meagre details and magnified them. +According to them, Jane Zild was the daughter of a rich Russian +nobleman. An unconquerable yearning for the stage brought her in +conflict with her father, and, burdened with his curse, she ran away +from home. If in spite of this she did not go on the stage it was not +the reporters' fault.</p> + +<p>The young lady was very capricious, and had refused the most tempting +offers from the management of the Opera. She also refused to sing for +the Emperor at Compiegne, and it therefore caused a sensation among +Gontram's guests when Jane Zild suddenly appeared.</p> + +<p>"Gontram's luck is really extraordinary," said a colleague of the young +painter laughingly, as he saw the majestic figure of the diva enter the +room. What would he have said if he had heard in what way Gontram had +secured Jane Zild as one of his guests?</p> + +<p>While the young painter was breakfasting with Spero, a perfumed note was +sent up to his residence in the Rue Montaigne, wherein Jane Zild +declared her willingness to appear in the painter's parlors and sing a +few songs.</p> + +<p>Gontram did not say no, and immediately hurried to the diva's house to +thank her.</p> + +<p>Spero had entered just behind the songstress, and Gontram smiled when he +saw the vicomte. Spero's carriage had driven up in front of the house +almost simultaneously with that of the diva, and Spero assisted the +young lady to alight.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235">[Pg 235]</a></span></p><p>When the vicomte entered the parlor, he felt humiliated when he saw all +eyes turned in the direction of the diva. No one seemed to care to +notice the heir of the Count of Monte-Cristo.</p> + +<p>Jane Zild strode the rooms with the dignity of a queen.</p> + +<p>"Heavenly! Admirable! Beautiful!" Such were the epithets which were +murmured half aloud, and later when she sat down at the piano and sang a +simple ballad, loud applause ran through the room. The ballad was +followed by an aria; Jane then sang a Russian melody, and closed with a +magnificent tarantella.</p> + +<p>"Monsieur Sabran," said a low voice to Gontram, "I must confess that you +are an obliging host! You are forgetting all your other guests on +account of the beautiful songstress, and I will reflect upon a suitable +punishment."</p> + +<p>The one who spoke was Carmen de Larsagny. Gontram blushed and made +excuses, but it took some time to appease the young lady's wrath.</p> + +<p>"Well," she finally said, "I will forgive you, but only upon one +condition. Have you a moment's time?"</p> + +<p>"For you always," replied the painter, warmly.</p> + +<p>"Good; then conduct me to the terrace."</p> + +<p>"To the terrace?" repeated Gontram in surprise. "How do you know I have +a terrace?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, I heard my father mention it a little while ago."</p> + +<p>"That's so," replied the painter. "Will you please accompany me?"</p> + +<p>They both walked through the studio and turned into the gallery.</p> + +<p>Suddenly Gontram paused, and uttered a low cry of astonishment.</p> + +<p>Spero was leaning against a door sunk in thought.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236">[Pg 236]</a></span></p><p>"Can I introduce the young man to you?" asked Gontram softly of his +companion.</p> + +<p>"Who is he?" replied Carmen.</p> + +<p>"The Vicomte of Monte-Cristo!"</p> + +<p>"What? The son of the celebrated count?" asked the young lady, looking +at Spero with increased interest.</p> + +<p>"Yes. I have a high regard for the vicomte."</p> + +<p>"I could have thought so," said Carmen, laughing.</p> + +<p>"What do you mean by that, mademoiselle?" asked Gontram in surprise.</p> + +<p>"Oh, you see you have the habit of caring very little for those whom you +pretend to honor," replied the young girl, looking at the painter in +such a way as made his heart beat fast.</p> + +<p>"I hope to be able soon to prove my esteem for you," whispered the young +man.</p> + +<p>Carmen was for a moment silent, and then vivaciously said:</p> + +<p>"Introduce me; I am curious to know your little vicomte."</p> + +<p>Just then Spero raised his head, and, seeing Gontram, he cordially said:</p> + +<p>"Gontram, am I not deserving of praise? You see I have accepted your +invitation."</p> + +<p>"I am very grateful to you," replied the painter warmly, and turning to +Carmen he said:</p> + +<p>"Mademoiselle de Larsagny, permit me to introduce the Vicomte of +Monte-Cristo to you."</p> + +<p>Spero bowed deeply. The young lady gazed steadily at the handsome +cavalier, and admiration shone in her eyes.</p> + +<p>"I really have not had the pleasure of seeing the vicomte. I should not +have forgotten him."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237">[Pg 237]</a></span></p><p>"I believe you," said the painter; "the vicomte is, by the way, a man +of serious ideas, an ascetic, who does not care for worldly pleasures."</p> + +<p>Spero protested with a shake of the head, and muttered some disconnected +words. Carmen, however, noticed that his thoughts were elsewhere.</p> + +<p>"Mademoiselle de Larsagny," said Gontram, laughing now, "I hope that you +and the other ladies here will succeed in converting the hermit."</p> + +<p>Carmen was dissatisfied with the vicomte's indifference, and, bowing +coldly, she went away, drawing the painter with her.</p> + +<p>"Well, how does my eccentric please you?" asked Gontram.</p> + +<p>"H'm, he is very handsome; whether he is intellectual, I cannot tell. Is +the father of the little vicomte really the knight without fear and +reproach, the hero of Dumas' novel?"</p> + +<p>"The same."</p> + +<p>"And has this man—Edmond Dantes was his right name—really had all the +adventurous wanderings imputed to him?"</p> + +<p>"I am sure of it."</p> + +<p>"One more question. It might appear strange to you, but I must ask it +nevertheless. Do you know whether Monsieur de Larsagny ever had any +relations with the count?"</p> + +<p>"I do not know, in fact I hardly think so. Your father has been living +in Paris but a few years, and the count has not been in Paris for any +great length of time during the past ten years. He is almost always +travelling. I believe there is no country on earth which he has not<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238">[Pg 238]</a></span> +visited, and he is again absent. However, if it interests you, I will +make inquiries and—"</p> + +<p>"Not for any price," interrupted Carmen, laughing; "let us drop the +subject and hurry to the terrace before others get there ahead of us."</p> + +<p>"We are there already," said Gontram, laughing, as he shoved a Japanese +drapery aside and stepped upon a small balcony with his companion. A +beautiful view of the Champs-Elysées was had from here.</p> + +<p>At that time the many mansions which now fill the Champs-Elysées were +not yet built, and the eye reached far down the beautiful lanes to the +Place de la Concorde.</p> + +<p>The two young persons stood upon the little terrace, and the spring wind +played with Carmen's golden locks and fanned Gontram's cheeks.</p> + +<p>The young girl now leaned over the railing, and, breathing the balsamic +air, she sighed:</p> + +<p>"Ah, how beautiful and peaceful it is here."</p> + +<p>Gontram had his arm about the young girl's slim waist, and carried away +by his feelings he pressed a kiss upon Carmen's coral-red lips. The +young girl returned the kiss, and who knows but that they would have +continued their osculatory exercise had not a voice close to the terrace +said:</p> + +<p>"Take care, Monsieur de Larsagny, that you do not try to find out my +name. You will know it sooner than will be agreeable to you."</p> + +<p>Carmen shuddered, and leaning far over, she tried to espy the speakers. +However, she could not see any one, though some passionate words reached +her from below; Gontram, on the other hand, felt like strangling the +disturbers.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239">[Pg 239]</a></span></p><p>"Let us go back to the parlor," said the young girl, and it seemed to +Gontram that her voice had changed in tone.</p> + +<p>He silently opened the drapery and brought his companion back to the +studio; when they entered it, the vicomte hurried to the painter, and +said in a low tone:</p> + +<p>"Gontram, have you a minute for me? I must speak to you."</p> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240">[Pg 240]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXI" id="CHAPTER_XXXI"></a>CHAPTER XXXI</h2> + +<h3>A THUNDERBOLT</h3> + +<p>The vicomte's disturbed features and the tone of his voice caused +Gontram to become anxious, and leading Carmen into the music-room, he +stammered an excuse, and then returned to Spero.</p> + +<p>"What has happened to you?" he asked, as he saw the young man was still +excited. "I am afraid I am a very inattentive host."</p> + +<p>"Oh, that is not it," said Spero, hesitating; "but—"</p> + +<p>"Well, speak. You frighten me," said Gontram, uneasily.</p> + +<p>"Gontram," began the vicomte, "you have confidence in me?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly; but what have we to do with that now? You know that I esteem +you—"</p> + +<p>"And you do not think me capable of deceiving or lying to you?"</p> + +<p>"Spero, I do not know you any more," cried Gontram, more and more +confused.</p> + +<p>"Have patience, you will soon learn to understand me," said the vicomte, +smiling curiously; "let me now tell you what has happened to me."</p> + +<p>Spero took a long breath, and then continued:</p> + +<p>"About ten minutes ago I was standing here, listening<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_241" id="Page_241">[Pg 241]</a></span> to the wonderful +singing of that beautiful creature whom you call Jane Zild. The melody +transported me to another world, and I saw and heard very little of what +was going on about me. Suddenly I heard a slight noise behind the +drapery, and these words reached my ears: 'Vicomte of Monte-Cristo, take +care of yourself. A trap has been set for you, and woe to you if you are +foolish enough not to notice it.'"</p> + +<p>"A trap laid? What does that mean, and who was it that gave you this +warning?" asked Gontram, in amazement.</p> + +<p>"I do not know. Springing up I ran in the direction whence the words +came. I shoved the drapery aside, but could see no one."</p> + +<p>"No one?" repeated the painter, breathing more freely. "That looks like +magic! Are you sure, Spero, that you didn't deceive yourself?"</p> + +<p>"You do not believe me," said the vicomte, smiling sorrowfully.</p> + +<p>"Spero, you misunderstand me. Let us proceed to work thoroughly, and, if +possible, find out what has occurred. You yourself confessed that you +were plunged in thought. In such half-dreamy conditions it often happens +that we imagine we see things which have no foundation in fact. We +believe we see persons, hear voices—"</p> + +<p>"You speak of imagination," interrupted Spero, "while I told you of +something that I actually have experienced. I heard the words clearly +and legibly; the voice was strange to me, and yet there was something +sincere in it which struck me."</p> + +<p>"Curious! Perhaps some one has played a joke upon you."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_242" id="Page_242">[Pg 242]</a></span></p><p>"That would not be improbable, yet I do not believe it. The words were +spoken seriously."</p> + +<p>"But you are mad! A trap, if laid for you, could only be done by me. I +must now ask you the same question you put to me: Have you confidence in +me?"</p> + +<p>"Perfect confidence," said the vicomte, warmly.</p> + +<p>"God be praised! Now follow me to the parlor, and forget your black +thoughts," and, shoving his arm under the vicomte's, he led him into the +music-room.</p> + +<p>"And where should the trap be?" asked Gontram, as they walked on; "not +in Jane Zild's heavenly tones? Just look how the dark eyes are looking +at you—really you are in luck."</p> + +<p>Jane Zild had risen after the song was ended, and while the applause +sounded about her, she looked steadily at the vicomte.</p> + +<p>"Banish the black thoughts," whispered Gontram to the young man, "come +and talk a little to the diva; she appears to expect it."</p> + +<p>"Mademoiselle," he said, turning to Jane, "here is one of your most +enthusiastic admirers, who would consider himself happy if you would +make a tour of the gallery with him."</p> + +<p>Gontram turned to other guests, and Spero timidly drew near to the young +girl and offered her his arm. Jane hesitated for a moment to take it, +and looked expectantly at the vicomte. She waited, no doubt, for a +compliment or some word from him. As Spero remained silent, a satisfied +smile crossed the classical features of the diva, and placing her hand +on his arm she carelessly said: "Let us go."</p> + +<p>Just then something unexpected happened. A <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_243" id="Page_243">[Pg 243]</a></span>burning candle fell down +from the chandelier, and a flame licked the black lace dress of the diva +and enveloped her.</p> + +<p>A cry of horror came from the lips of the bystanders, and they all +rushed away. Spero was the only one who showed self-possession. Quick as +thought, he tore one of the draperies from the wall, and placing the +thick cloth around the shoulders of the diva, he pressed her tightly to +his bosom.</p> + +<p>The next minute Jane stood with pale face, but otherwise uninjured, +before her rescuer, and holding her little hand to him, she whispered +cordially:</p> + +<p>"Thanks, a thousand thanks!"</p> + +<p>Spero took the long fingers and pressed his lips as respectfully upon +them as if Jane Zild were a queen and he her subject. The diva, with the +drapery still about her shoulders, looked really like a queen, and all +eyes were turned admiringly toward her.</p> + +<p>A man dressed in plain dark clothes hurried through the crowd, and +looking anxiously at Jane he cried in a vibrating voice:</p> + +<p>"Are you injured?"</p> + +<p>The diva trembled when she heard the voice, and blushing deeply, she +hastily replied:</p> + +<p>"No, thank God, I am not hurt. The coolness of the Vicomte of +Monte-Cristo prevented a misfortune."</p> + +<p>The vicomte, too, trembled when he heard the unknown's words, for he +felt certain that the voice was the same as that which had given him the +mysterious warning.</p> + +<p>The man bowed respectfully to the vicomte, and Jane, turning to Spero, +said in cordial tones:</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_244" id="Page_244">[Pg 244]</a></span></p><p>"Complete your good work, vicomte, and conduct me to my carriage."</p> + +<p>Spero laid her little hand upon his arm and led her out. As Spero +assisted her in the carriage she bowed again to him and whispered:</p> + +<p>"I hope we shall see each other again."</p> + +<p>Jane's companion looked at the vicomte in an embarrassed way; he +evidently wished to say something to him, but had not the courage to do +so. The next minute the horses started and the carriage rolled away.</p> + +<p>Spero looked after the equipage as long as it could be seen and then +called for his coachman, as he wished to go home too. Just as he was +about to enter the carriage, the coachman, in surprise, exclaimed:</p> + +<p>"You have forgotten your hat, vicomte. Jean, quick, go and get it."</p> + +<p>Spero, in astonishment, felt his head; it was true, the coachman was +right.</p> + +<p>"Stay, Jean, I shall go myself," he briefly said, as he hurried back to +the house.</p> + +<p>Just as he reached the stairs, Monsieur de Larsagny and his daughter, +whom Gontram escorted, and Count Vellini and his secretary came down.</p> + +<p>"Vicomte," said Carmen, vivaciously, "you are a hero, and the rest of +the gentlemen can take you for an example."</p> + +<p>Monsieur de Larsagny coughed slightly, while Fagiano loudly cried:</p> + +<p>"The vicomte is the worthy son of his father, the great count."</p> + +<p>These words, although spoken in a respectful tone, displeased Spero, yet +he kept silent and the guests departed.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_245" id="Page_245">[Pg 245]</a></span></p><p>"Stay a minute longer," begged Gontram, "I will take a walk with you, +if it is agreeable; I am too much excited yet to go to bed."</p> + +<p>"That is my position, too," replied the vicomte.</p> + +<p>The servant brought them their hats and cloaks, and they both walked in +the direction of the Champs-Elysées. Neither of them noticed a dark form +which stood at a street corner and looked after them.</p> + +<p>"Have a care," hissed Fagiano's voice, "you shall suffer for being his +son."</p> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_246" id="Page_246">[Pg 246]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXII" id="CHAPTER_XXXII"></a>CHAPTER XXXII</h2> + +<h3>OLD ACQUAINTANCES</h3> + +<p>Jane Zild lived in a modest room in a small house on the Champs-Elysées.</p> + +<p>The interior was furnished in the ordinary style of a private house. In +the basement was the reception-room, the sitting-room and dining-room. +The owner of the house was Madame Vollard, the widow of an officer. One +of her principles was, that it was better to have her rooms empty than +to let them out to people whose reputation was not of the best.</p> + +<p>She did not care much either for artists or actresses, but made some +exceptions, and when Melosan, Jane Zild's secretary, offered her a +considerable sum for a room on the first floor, she immediately +accepted.</p> + +<p>The bells of Notre-Dame struck one o'clock, when a carriage, which +contained Jane and her companion, stopped in front of Madame Vollard's +house.</p> + +<p>In spite of the late hour, the landlady hurried to the street door to +greet the young girl. When she saw the latter's disordered toilet, she +uttered a cry of horror. Jane had thrown off the cloak, and the burned +dress with the withered and crushed roses could be seen.</p> + +<p>"What is the matter, my dear?" asked the worthy lady.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_247" id="Page_247">[Pg 247]</a></span></p><p>"Oh, nothing," replied Jane; "I am only tired."</p> + +<p>"Then you tell me, at least, what has occurred," said Madame Vollard, +turning to Melosan.</p> + +<p>"Later on, later on. The young lady is excited and needs rest."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I will give her some drops," said the good-hearted lady, "I—"</p> + +<p>"Good-night, Madame Vollard," said the secretary, and taking a light +from the lady's hands, he hurried up the stairs with Jane.</p> + +<p>The young girl sank back in a chair exhausted. Melosan, a man about +sixty years of age, with white hair and sunburned face, stood with +folded hands before his mistress, and his dark eyes looked anxiously at +Jane's pale face.</p> + +<p>"You are suffering?" he said, after a pause.</p> + +<p>Jane shuddered. "Ah, no," she said, "I am feeling perfectly well."</p> + +<p>"But the fright?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, that is nothing," replied Jane, sorrowfully; and, rising up wildly, +she passionately added: "Why am I forced to enter a world which is not +my own, and never can be! And it shall not be either," she sobbingly +concluded, "never—never!"</p> + +<p>Melosan held down his head.</p> + +<p>"A queen would have been proud at the reception you had to-night."</p> + +<p>"Why do you tell me this?" she exclaimed. "A queen? I? Oh, what bitter +mockery!"</p> + +<p>"But your eminent talent—your voice?"</p> + +<p>"Would to God I had none! I—but go now, I want to be alone."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_248" id="Page_248">[Pg 248]</a></span></p><p>The man sorrowfully approached the door; on the threshold he paused and +imploringly murmured:</p> + +<p>"Pardon me, Jane, I did not wish to hurt you."</p> + +<p>"I know it. I am sometimes hard and cruel, but my unhappy situation is +the cause of it. Why did not the wretched fire consume me? Then all +grief would have been at an end. O my God! my God!"</p> + +<p>She sobbed as if her heart would break, and Melosan wrung his hands in +despair.</p> + +<p>"Jane, tell me what has happened," he said, in despair. "I have never +seen you this way before. Has any one insulted you?"</p> + +<p>"No one," said Jane, softly, "no one."</p> + +<p>"Your fate is dreary and burdensome, but you are young and strong. You +have life before you, and in time you'll forget the past and be happy."</p> + +<p>Melosan's words caused the young girl to dry her tears.</p> + +<p>"You are right," she said, half ashamed, "I was foolish and ungrateful. +I will forget the past. Forgive me—grief overwhelmed me."</p> + +<p>"You are an angel," cried Melosan, enthusiastically; "but now you must +really go to bed. Good-night, Jane."</p> + +<p>"Good-night," said the young girl, cordially, and then the door closed +behind Melosan.</p> + +<p>As the secretary was about to go to his room, Madame Vollard intercepted +him on the stairs.</p> + +<p>"Well, how goes it?" she asked; "has the poor child recovered?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, thank you."</p> + +<p>"What occurred?"</p> + +<p>"She was almost burned to death; her dress had already caught fire."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_249" id="Page_249">[Pg 249]</a></span></p><p>"What a lucky accident—"</p> + +<p>"Lucky accident?" repeated Melosan, not understanding.</p> + +<p>"I do not mean the fire, but the fact that I just possess a walking +suit, such as Mademoiselle Zild needs, and which I can let her have at a +very moderate price. A silk dress with pomegranate leaves—"</p> + +<p>"To-morrow, Madame Vollard, to-morrow," Melosan interrupted her. "I +really feel fatigued, and should like to go to my room."</p> + +<p>"You are right. I ought to have known it."</p> + +<p>She disappeared, and Melosan walked up the stairs. On entering his room +he locked the door, threw himself into a chair, and burying his face in +his hands he sobbed bitterly.</p> + +<p>"What is going to happen now," he muttered to himself; "my money is +nearly all gone, and—"</p> + +<p>Hastily springing up, he opened the bureau and took a torn portfolio out +of it. Opening it, he sorrowfully counted its contents and shook his +gray head.</p> + +<p>"It is useless," he muttered in a hollow voice, "the day after to-morrow +the rent is due, and what then remains to us is not worth speaking +about. If I only could begin something, but everywhere my horrible past +stares me in the face. I dare not go out in the broad daylight. I myself +would be satisfied with dry bread, but Jane, the poor, poor thing! With +her talent she could have had a brilliant life, and reign everywhere +like a queen if it were not for the terrible past. Like a spectre, it +stands in our path, and while she is innocent, the curse of being the +cause of both our wretchedness strikes me. I—"</p> + +<p>A slight noise caused Melosan to pause and listen. For a while all was +silent, and then the noise recommenced.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_250" id="Page_250">[Pg 250]</a></span> He hurried to the door, but +could not see any one, and returning to the room he shook his head and +resumed his seat.</p> + +<p>"I must have been deceived," he murmured uneasily, "and yet I thought—"</p> + +<p>The knock was repeated, and this time so loudly that Melosan discovered +from whence it came. Hastily going to the attic window he threw the +curtain aside and peered out. A dark shadow moved here and there on the +roof, and Melosan reached for his pistol.</p> + +<p>"Who's there?" he cried.</p> + +<p>"Some one who desires to speak to you," came back in firm tones.</p> + +<p>"To me? At this hour?" asked the secretary in a daze.</p> + +<p>"Yes, to you—open quickly or I shall burst in the window."</p> + +<p>Melosan saw that it could not be a thief, and so he hesitatingly shoved +back the bolt.</p> + +<p>A powerful hand raised the window from the outside, and Melosan raised +his weapon threateningly; but at this moment the light from the room +fell full on the man's face, and the secretary let the pistol fall, and +cried in a faint, trembling voice:</p> + +<p>"You! You! O God! how did you get here?"</p> + +<p>"Ha! ha! ha! Don't you see I came from the roof?" cried the man, +mockingly.</p> + +<p>"But you shall not come in," cried Melosan, angrily, as he cocked his +pistol. "Get out of here, or I shall blow your brains out."</p> + +<p>"You won't do any such thing," said the other, coolly. "Do you think +because you are posing as an honest man<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_251" id="Page_251">[Pg 251]</a></span> that other people will imagine +you are one? Ha! is the situation clear to you? A good memory is a good +thing to have, and if one does not like to hear names it is better to +acquiesce. Well, what do you say? Shall we talk over matters peacefully, +or do you persist in firing off your pistol and attracting the attention +of the police?"</p> + +<p>A shudder ran through Melosan, and he looked at the floor in despair.</p> + +<p>"Can I offer you a cigar?" continued the man. "No? Then permit me to +light my own;" and turning himself in his chair, and reclining +comfortably against the back of the fauteuil, the speaker lighted a +cigar, and with the utmost calm of mind puffed blue clouds of smoke in +the air.</p> + +<p>Melosan was evidently struggling with himself. At last he had made up +his mind, and, angrily approaching the other, said:</p> + +<p>"Listen to me. The sooner we get rid of each other the better it will be +for both of us. Why did you hunt me up? You ought to have known long ago +that I did not wish to have anything to do with you. You go your way and +I will go mine; let neither of us bother the other, and as I am called +Melosan, I shall forget that you ever bore any other name than Fagiano."</p> + +<p>"You have become proud!" exclaimed the man who called himself Fagiano, +laughing mockingly; "upon my word, Anselmo, if I did not know that you +were a former galley-slave, I would think you were a prince!"</p> + +<p>"And I would hold you now and always for the incarnation of everything +that is bad," replied Anselmo (for it was he). "You ought to be called +Lucifer instead of Benedetto!"</p> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_252" id="Page_252">[Pg 252]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXIII" id="CHAPTER_XXXIII"></a>CHAPTER XXXIII</h2> + +<h3>THE CATASTROPHE</h3> + +<p>The two men looked at each other with flaming eyes. In Toulon they were +chained together, and now—</p> + +<p>Anselmo had reversed the letters of his name and called himself Melosan. +In Toulon they were both on the same moral plane, but since then their +ways as well as their characters had changed. Benedetto sank lower and +lower day by day, while Anselmo worked hard to obliterate the stigma of +a galley-slave.</p> + +<p>Benedetto, bold and impudent, looked at his former chain-companion, and +a mocking smile played about his lips. Anselmo, however, lost little by +little his assurance, and finally implored Benedetto to leave, saying:</p> + +<p>"We two have nothing in common any more."</p> + +<p>"That is a question. Sit down and listen to me."</p> + +<p>"No, Benedetto, we are done with each other."</p> + +<p>"Nonsense—you have become virtuous all of a sudden," mocked Count +Vellini's secretary.</p> + +<p>"Would to God it were so. When we were in Toulon an unfortunate accident +brought us together; a far more unfortunate one separated us. Since then +it has been my endeavor to have the sins which led me to the Bagnio +atoned for by an honest life. I do not care to know what<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_253" id="Page_253">[Pg 253]</a></span> kind of a life +you have led. All I ask is that in the future we meet as strangers, and +I hope you will consent to my wish!"</p> + +<p>"And if I do not do so?" asked Benedetto, laying his hand upon his +former comrade's shoulder. "Suppose I will not forget you nor want to be +forgotten by you?"</p> + +<p>Anselmo moaned aloud.</p> + +<p>"Moan away," continued Benedetto. "I know all the details of your past +life, and if you have forgotten anything I am in a position to refresh +your memory."</p> + +<p>"I—do not—understand you," stammered Anselmo.</p> + +<p>"Think of the past," replied Benedetto, frowning.</p> + +<p>"Of the time when the smith fastened us to the same chain?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, think again."</p> + +<p>Anselmo trembled.</p> + +<p>"Do you speak of the moment when we jumped into the sea and escaped from +the galleys?" he softly asked.</p> + +<p>"No; your memory seems to be weak."</p> + +<p>"I do not know what you mean."</p> + +<p>"Really? You seem to have drunk from the spring of Lethe," said +Benedetto, contemptuously. "Anselmo, have you forgotten our meeting at +Beaussuet?"</p> + +<p>"Scoundrel! miserable wretch! Do you really dare to remind me of that?" +cried Anselmo, beside himself.</p> + +<p>"Why not?"</p> + +<p>"If you can do so—no power on earth can induce me to say another word +about that horrible affair," said Anselmo, shuddering.</p> + +<p>"My nerves are better than yours," laughed Benedetto. "It was only to +speak to you about that particular night<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_254" id="Page_254">[Pg 254]</a></span> that I braved the danger of +hunting you up. I need you as a witness, and that is why you see me +here."</p> + +<p>"As a witness?" exclaimed Anselmo, in surprise. "Either you are crazy or +else I shall become so. Benedetto, if I open my mouth the gallows will +be your fate!"</p> + +<p>"That is my business and need not worry you at all. Do you remember the +night of the 24th of February, 1839? Yes or no?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," groaned Anselmo.</p> + +<p>"No jeremiads! Do you also remember the vicarage at Beaussuet?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"Well, a certain person came expressly from Toulon to see about a sum of +money, a million—"</p> + +<p>"I have not touched a penny of the money," interrupted Anselmo, +shuddering.</p> + +<p>"No, certainly not, you were always unselfish. Well, do not interrupt +me. The person who came from Toulon (<i>recte</i> Benedetto) was just about +to put the sum of money in his pocket, when the devil sent a stranger +who—"</p> + +<p>"Benedetto, if you are a human being and not a devil, keep silent," +cried Anselmo, beside himself.</p> + +<p>Benedetto shrugged his shoulders.</p> + +<p>"You are a fool," he said, contemptuously. "I heard two persons on the +stairs. I hid behind the door, with a knife in my right hand. The door +opened. The shadow of a form appeared in the door, and I struck. I felt +the knife sink deep into a human breast."</p> + +<p>"Wretch! It was the breast of your mother!" stammered Anselmo.</p> + +<p>"Ah, your memory is returning to you," mocked<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_255" id="Page_255">[Pg 255]</a></span> Benedetto, with a cynical +smile. "Yes, it was my mother. But how did you know it?"</p> + +<p>"I met the unfortunate woman on the way in the gorges of Oliolles—"</p> + +<p>"Ah! and there she told you the story of her life."</p> + +<p>"She begged me to help her save her son, and I promised to do so; I knew +that you were that wretched son."</p> + +<p>"Did she tell you her name?" said Benedetto, uneasily.</p> + +<p>"She hid nothing from me. I found out that the son she wished to save +intended to murder her—"</p> + +<p>"Facts," said Benedetto, roughly, "and less talk."</p> + +<p>"And that this son was a child of sin."</p> + +<p>"Ah, really; and her name?"</p> + +<p>"She made me swear to keep it secret."</p> + +<p>"So much the better! She really thought, then, that a galley-slave was a +man of his word?"</p> + +<p>"Galley-slave or not, I have kept silent, and will do so further."</p> + +<p>"You are a hero! Nevertheless, you can tell me the name."</p> + +<p>"No!"</p> + +<p>"And if I demand it?"</p> + +<p>"I won't tell you, either."</p> + +<p>"Anselmo, have a care!" hissed Benedetto, angrily. "Tell me the name, +or—"</p> + +<p>"I am silent," declared Anselmo; "you do not know the name, and you will +never learn it from me."</p> + +<p>Benedetto broke into a coarse laugh.</p> + +<p>"You are either very naïve," he said, "or think I am. I only wished to +see if you had not forgotten the name. The lady was Madame Danglars."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_256" id="Page_256">[Pg 256]</a></span></p><p>Anselmo uttered a cry of rage.</p> + +<p>"Well, preacher of words, what do you say now?" asked Benedetto, +politely.</p> + +<p>"Since you know the name, we are done with each other," said Anselmo, +"and I think you will now leave me in peace."</p> + +<p>"You are wrong, my dear Anselmo; do you know that you are very +disrespectful?"</p> + +<p>Anselmo began to ponder whether it would not be better to appear more +friendly to the hated comrade.</p> + +<p>"Benedetto," he said, in a gentle voice, "why should we be enemies? I +know you had reason to be angry a little while ago, but the recollection +of that fearful night unmanned me, and I did not know what I was +speaking about. At that time, too, I was terribly excited—"</p> + +<p>"As I had reason to notice," interrupted Benedetto. "You were ready to +kill me."</p> + +<p>"Let us forget all that," said Anselmo, hastily. "You came here to ask a +favor of me and I was a fool to refuse. We have both the same interests +in keeping our past history from the world. Therefore speak. If what you +desire is within the limits of reason, it shall be done."</p> + +<p>"Bravo! you please me now, Anselmo," cried Benedetto, laughing. "At +length you have become sensible. But tell me, is the little one +handsome? For it is natural that your reform has been brought about by a +woman; you always were an admirer and connoisseur of the fair sex."</p> + +<p>Anselmo sprang upon Benedetto and, holding his clinched fist in his +face, he said:</p> + +<p>"Benedetto, if you care to live, don't say another word!"</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_257" id="Page_257">[Pg 257]</a></span></p><p>"And why?" asked the wretch, with silent contempt.</p> + +<p>"Because I shall not stand it," replied Anselmo, coldly. "You have me in +your power, Benedetto. With an anonymous letter you could denounce me +to-morrow as an escaped galley-slave and have me sent back to the +galleys. I would not care a snap for that, but I most emphatically +forbid you to throw a slur upon the reputation of the woman who lives +with me under this roof."</p> + +<p>"You forbid me? Come now, Anselmo, you speak in a peculiar tone," hissed +Benedetto.</p> + +<p>"I speak exactly in the tone the matter demands. You know my opinion; +conduct yourself accordingly."</p> + +<p>"And if I did not care to obey you?"</p> + +<p>"Then I would denounce you, even though I put my own neck in danger."</p> + +<p>"Ha! ha! I tell you you won't do anything of the kind."</p> + +<p>"Listen," said Anselmo, "you do not know me. Yes, I was a wretch, a +perjurer, worse than any highwayman. But I have suffered, suffered +terribly for my sins, and since years it has been my only ambition to +lead a blameless life as repentance for my crimes. I have taken care of +a poor helpless being, and to defend her I will sacrifice my life. I +bear everything to shield her from grief and misery; in fact, if it were +necessary, I would accept her contempt, for if she ever found out who I +am, she would despise me."</p> + +<p>"Have you pen, ink and paper?" asked Benedetto, after Anselmo had +concluded.</p> + +<p>"Yes. What do you want to do with them?"</p> + +<p>"You shall soon find out."</p> + +<p>Anselmo silently pointed to a table upon which <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_258" id="Page_258">[Pg 258]</a></span>writing materials lay. +Benedetto dipped the pen in the ink, and, grinning, said:</p> + +<p>"My friend, have the kindness to take this pen and write what I +dictate."</p> + +<p>"I?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, you. I only want you to write a few lines."</p> + +<p>"What shall I write?"</p> + +<p>"The truth."</p> + +<p>"I do not understand you."</p> + +<p>"It is very simple; you will write down what you have just said."</p> + +<p>"Explain yourself more clearly."</p> + +<p>"With pleasure; better still, write what I dictate."</p> + +<p>Anselmo looked uneasily at the wretch; Benedetto quietly walked behind +the ex-priest's chair, and began:</p> + +<p>"On the 24th of February, 1839, Benedetto, an escaped convict from the +galleys of Toulon, murdered Madame Danglars, his mother."</p> + +<p>"That is horrible!" cried Anselmo, throwing the pen down; "I shall not +write that."</p> + +<p>"You will write; you know I can force you; therefore—"</p> + +<p>Anselmo sighed, and took up the pen again.</p> + +<p>"So, I am done now," he said, after a pause; "must it be signed, too?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly; though the name has nothing to do with it. You can put any +one you please under it."</p> + +<p>It sounded very simple, and yet Anselmo hesitated.</p> + +<p>"No," he firmly said, "I will not do it. I know you are up to some +trick, and I do not intend to assist you."</p> + +<p>Benedetto laughed in a peculiar way.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_259" id="Page_259">[Pg 259]</a></span></p><p>"I know you are not rich," said the pretended secretary, "and—"</p> + +<p>Anselmo made a threatening gesture, but Benedetto continued:</p> + +<p>"I was at this window for some time. Count Vellini's house is next door +to this, and I had no difficulty in getting here. I saw you counting +your secret treasure, and consequently—"</p> + +<p>Unconsciously Anselmo glanced at the portfolio which lay on the table. +Benedetto noticed it and laughed maliciously.</p> + +<p>"Yes, there lies your fortune," he said contemptuously. "The lean +bank-notes you counted a little while ago will not keep you long above +board."</p> + +<p>"But I have not asked for anything," murmured Anselmo.</p> + +<p>"I offer you a price."</p> + +<p>Benedetto drew an elegant portfolio from his pocket, and took ten +thousand-franc notes out of it which he laid upon the table. "Finish and +sign the paper I dictated," he coldly said, "and the money is yours."</p> + +<p>Anselmo grew pale. Did Benedetto know of his troubles? Had he read his +thoughts?</p> + +<p>"I will not do it," he said, rising up. "Keep your money, Benedetto; it +would bring me misfortune."</p> + +<p>Benedetto uttered a cry of rage, and, grasping the pen, he seated +himself at the table and wrote a few words.</p> + +<p>"So," he said, with a satanic gleam in his eyes as he held the paper +under Anselmo's nose, "either you do what I say or else these lines +which I have just written will be sent to the papers to-morrow."</p> + +<p>Anselmo read, and the blood rushed to his head. He<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_260" id="Page_260">[Pg 260]</a></span> felt his brain +whirl, and, beating his face with his hands, he groaned aloud. What had +Benedetto written? Only a few words: "The lady who is known as Jane Zild +is—"</p> + +<p>"You will not send these lines off," cried Anselmo, springing up +suddenly and clutching Benedetto by the throat. The latter, however, was +too strong for him; in a minute he had thrown the ex-priest upon the +bed.</p> + +<p>"No nonsense," he sternly said, "either you write or I will send the +notice to the papers to-morrow."</p> + +<p>The ex-priest took the pen and with a trembling hand wrote what +Benedetto had asked of him.</p> + +<p>"Here," he said, in a choking voice, "swear to me—but no—you do not +believe in anything—I—"</p> + +<p>"My dear friend," interrupted Benedetto, "do not take the thing so +seriously. I have no intention of disturbing your peace."</p> + +<p>Anselmo sank upon a chair, and his eyes filled with hot tears.</p> + +<p>Benedetto hastily ran over the paper and his lips curled contemptuously +when he saw the signature.</p> + +<p>"The fool wrote his own name," he murmured as he rubbed his hands, "may +it do him good."</p> + +<p>The next minute the secretary of Count Vellini disappeared, and Anselmo +breathed more freely.</p> + +<p>Suddenly an idea flew through his brain as his gaze fell upon the +bank-notes.</p> + +<p>"We will fly," he muttered to himself, "now, this very hour! This demon +knows everything; we are not safe from him, and if an accident happens +to Jane—"</p> + +<p>In desperation he walked up and down the room and disconnected words +came from his lips.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_261" id="Page_261">[Pg 261]</a></span></p><p>"Who will guarantee me that he will keep silent? Oh, he was always a +wretch—to-morrow at four o'clock we can take the train—we will go to +England and from there to America."</p> + +<p>He paused, and, going to the window, listened. Everything was quiet and +Anselmo noticed that a rain shed connected the count's house with that +of Madame Vollard. Benedetto's visit was probably undiscovered, and a +great deal depended on that.</p> + +<p>"I will wake Jane," said Anselmo after a short pause, "I will tell her +an excuse, and since she believes in me, she will be ready at once to +follow me! I will tell her I am in danger and must leave France."</p> + +<p>Anselmo carefully opened the door and listened. All was still in the +house, and, going on tiptoe, he glided up to the next story and into +Jane's room. Merciful God, it was empty!</p> + +<p>Uttering a cry he rushed out of the room and down the stairs, and, a +prey to despair, hurried out into the dark night.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_262" id="Page_262">[Pg 262]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXIV" id="CHAPTER_XXXIV"></a>CHAPTER XXXIV</h2> + +<h3>A SHOT</h3> + +<p>In deep silence Gontram and Spero walked along the Champs-Elysées, which +at this time of the day was deserted. They were both indulging in +day-dreams and permitted the magical spring air to affect them.</p> + +<p>"Confound the slow pokes," cried the painter at length, after the two +young men had been walking up and down for over an hour; "I will go +directly to the point."</p> + +<p>Spero looked up in amazement. Buried in thought, he believed his friend +had spoken to him, and so he said confusedly:</p> + +<p>"Excuse me, Gontram, I was thinking of something else and didn't catch +your meaning."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I was only thinking aloud," replied the painter, laughing, "but it +is best if I talk the matter over with you. I will sooner reach a +decision."</p> + +<p>"I do not understand," stammered Spero.</p> + +<p>"I believe you; but do you know that we are both in the same boat?"</p> + +<p>"How so?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, I do not wish to pry into your secrets, but hope that you will +listen quietly to my confession and then give me your opinion."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_263" id="Page_263">[Pg 263]</a></span></p><p>"A confession? Have you any debts? You know very well—"</p> + +<p>"That your purse is open to me I know, but I want to make a loan with +your heart."</p> + +<p>"Speak quickly; what is the matter?"</p> + +<p>"It is about the solution of a problem which has already brought many a +man to the brink of despair."</p> + +<p>"Gontram!"</p> + +<p>"Yes, look at me; it is unfortunately true. One of the most interesting +chapters in Rabelais's 'Pantagruel' is devoted to the theme."</p> + +<p>Spero was not in the humor for any literary discussion, and so he firmly +said:</p> + +<p>"If Rabelais handled this theme, he did it undoubtedly in a more worthy +way than I could possibly have done."</p> + +<p>"H'm, Rabelais merely gives the question, but does not answer it."</p> + +<p>"You are speaking in riddles," said the vicomte, laughing, "and, as you +know, I have very little acquaintance with practical life."</p> + +<p>"But you know 'Pantagruel'?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, but—"</p> + +<p>"Panurge asks his master, 'Shall I marry or shall I not marry?' and +Pantagruel replies, 'Marry or do not marry, just as you feel inclined.'"</p> + +<p>"Ah, so that is the question you wish to place before me?" said Spero.</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"But why do you come to me for my advice in such a delicate matter?"</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_264" id="Page_264">[Pg 264]</a></span></p><p>"Because I have confidence in you," replied the painter, warmly.</p> + +<p>"Thank you," said the vicomte, cordially; "in questions of ordinary life +I know as little as a child. I think it is a misfortune to always live +alone."</p> + +<p>"Then you advise me to marry?"</p> + +<p>"If the woman you have selected is worthy to be your wife."</p> + +<p>For a time they were both silent, and then Spero continued:</p> + +<p>"I think marriage must be based upon unlimited mutual esteem."</p> + +<p>"You are right. You have, no doubt, observed that the young lady whom I +conducted through the parlor this evening—"</p> + +<p>Spero trembled and uttered a low cry. The painter looked suspiciously at +him, but the vicomte laughingly said that he had knocked against a +stone, and so the painter continued:</p> + +<p>"The young lady has captivated me—"</p> + +<p>"Of which lady are you speaking?" asked the vicomte, uneasily.</p> + +<p>"Of the pretty blonde, Mademoiselle de Larsagny!"</p> + +<p>"Ah! she is certainly very handsome," cried Spero, breathing more +freely.</p> + +<p>"Don't you think so?" exclaimed Gontram, enthusiastically. "That is the +young lady I mean."</p> + +<p>"In that case I can only congratulate you on the choice you have made."</p> + +<p>"Thank you. Then you think Carmen de Larsagny charming?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. From what I have seen of the young lady<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_265" id="Page_265">[Pg 265]</a></span> she deserves the love of +such a splendid fellow as you are."</p> + +<p>"If I were to obey the voice of love," said Gontram, "I would go to her +now and say: 'I love you—be mine!'"</p> + +<p>"And why do you hesitate? You love her, do you not?"</p> + +<p>"I suppose so; Carmen is charming. This evening I was at the point of +proposing—"</p> + +<p>"Well? and—"</p> + +<p>"That is just the point. Spero, have you never had a feeling which +caused you to leave undone something which your heart prompted you to +do? Several times this evening a feeling of coming misfortune overcame +me, so that I had great trouble to retain my cheerfulness."</p> + +<p>"Such things are sometimes deceiving," said Spero.</p> + +<p>"That may be, but every time I think of a marriage with Carmen a feeling +of uneasiness overcomes me."</p> + +<p>"That is merely nervous excitement."</p> + +<p>"I am in love and—"</p> + +<p>"Well, you hesitate?"</p> + +<p>"I have not told you everything yet. I committed an indiscretion."</p> + +<p>"Of what nature?"</p> + +<p>"I embraced Mademoiselle de Larsagny and kissed her."</p> + +<p>"Ah! and the young girl?"</p> + +<p>"Did not repulse me. Now shall I marry or not?"</p> + +<p>"What does your heart tell you?"</p> + +<p>"My heart is like Pantagruel. It knows no decided answer."</p> + +<p>"Good. If you follow my advice, marry the girl. A<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_266" id="Page_266">[Pg 266]</a></span> kiss between two good +young people is as binding as an engagement."</p> + +<p>"You are right, a hundred times right, and yet the moment I pressed my +lips to hers I felt a pain in my heart. If I only knew the cause of this +fright which seizes me every time I think of Carmen."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps it is her father, Monsieur de Larsagny, who does not inspire +you with confidence?" said Spero after a pause.</p> + +<p>In the meantime the two friends reached the Arc de Triomphe and walked +up and down the woods.</p> + +<p>"Perhaps you are right," said Gontram, answering the vicomte's last +question. "I know very little of Monsieur de Larsagny, and yet I could +swear that there are some dark spots in his past."</p> + +<p>At this moment a shot sounded in the still night, and the friends stood +still and looked at each other in surprise.</p> + +<p>"What was that?" cried Spero.</p> + +<p>"A shot, and, as I fear, a crime," said Gontram, softly.</p> + +<p>The young men hurried in the direction from which the shot came, and +were soon in a small pathway which was lighted up by the faint gleam of +the moon. On the ground a motionless form lay. Spero bent over it, and, +uttering a hollow cry, he took it in his arms and clasped the head with +its long, black, streaming hair to his bosom. It was Jane Zild whom the +vicomte held in his arms. Near her lay a revolver.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_267" id="Page_267">[Pg 267]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXV" id="CHAPTER_XXXV"></a>CHAPTER XXXV</h2> + +<h3>WILL SHE LIVE?</h3> + +<p>Spero hurried with his burden to the street, and Gontram could hardly +keep up with him. Finally he overtook him, and, placing his hand on the +vicomte's shoulder, he urgently cried:</p> + +<p>"Spero, where are you going with this corpse?"</p> + +<p>"She is not dead," replied the vicomte, tremblingly. "She lives; she +must live—she dare not die!"</p> + +<p>"And who is she?" asked Gontram, as he tried to get a glimpse of the +face. Yes, he recognized her now as she lay in Spero's arms.</p> + +<p>"Jane! Jane Zild?" stammered the painter, terror-stricken. "O my God!"</p> + +<p>They had now reached the Place de l'Etoile, and Gontram looked around +for a carriage.</p> + +<p>"What shall we do?" he asked, turning in desperation to Spero. "Are you +going to bring the poor thing to your house? I shall go and arouse the +servants."</p> + +<p>"Do so, Gontram, and hurry—every minute counts."</p> + +<p>Soon the Monte-Cristo mansion was reached. Spero carried the unconscious +girl up the stairs and gently laid her on the divan. He then got on his +knees beside<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_268" id="Page_268">[Pg 268]</a></span> Jane, and, hiding his face in his hands, he sobbed +bitterly.</p> + +<p>Gontram now approached his friend.</p> + +<p>"Spero," he said, "calm yourself; we must rescue the poor child."</p> + +<p>The vicomte sprang up.</p> + +<p>"You are right, Gontram," he replied; "but if she is dead, I shall die, +too, for I love her—I love her more than my life."</p> + +<p>"She is no doubt wounded," said Gontram softly.</p> + +<p>"Yes, just hold a light here," cried the vicomte. "I will examine her. I +have not studied medicine for nothing."</p> + +<p>The vicomte laid his ear to her bosom, and then said:</p> + +<p>"She lives, but to tell whether there is any hope I must examine her +more closely. Gontram, go to my study and bring me the cedar box which +stands on my writing-desk."</p> + +<p>Gontram left the room, and Spero was alone with the unconscious girl. +Placing his hand upon her white forehead, he bent over the young girl +and tenderly murmured:</p> + +<p>"Poor dear child! Why did you wish to die? Oh, Jane, Jane! you must +live—live for me, and no power on earth shall tear you from me!"</p> + +<p>He pressed his lips upon her pale mouth, and with this kiss his soul was +bound to that of the young girl.</p> + +<p>Gontram now returned; Spero opened the box and took an instrument from +it.</p> + +<p>"Feel if my hand trembles," he said, turning to the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_269" id="Page_269">[Pg 269]</a></span> painter; "only if +that is not the case can I dare to probe for the bullet."</p> + +<p>Gontram took hold of the white hand. It did not tremble, and Spero began +to probe for the bullet.</p> + +<p>"The ball has not touched a vital part," whispered the vicomte at +length; "it lies in the muscles. I touched it with the instrument."</p> + +<p>"Do you think you can remove the bullet?" asked the painter.</p> + +<p>"I hope so."</p> + +<p>The vicomte motioned to Gontram to hand him the box again, and taking a +bistoury and a pincette he bent over the unconscious girl again.</p> + +<p>An anxious moment passed and then Spero triumphantly exclaimed:</p> + +<p>"Saved!"</p> + +<p>"Saved," repeated Gontram as he took the murderous lead from the +vicomte's hand.</p> + +<p>"Then we can call the housekeeper," said Spero, after he had poured a +liquid down the young girl's throat.</p> + +<p>He hurried out, and returned in less than five minutes with Madame +Caraman.</p> + +<p>The last time we saw the worthy governess she was in Africa, in company +with Miss Clary. The latter fell in love with Captain Joliette and +married him in spite of Lord Ellis's opposition. The young couple were +very happy until the <i>coup d'état</i> of the 2d of December, 1851, when +Albert de Morcerf was killed by a murderous ball. Six months later Miss +Clary died of grief. Four weeks after her death Madame Caraman became +the housekeeper of the Monte-Cristo mansion. Thus it came about that +Spero hurried to her for aid for the sick girl. She asked<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_270" id="Page_270">[Pg 270]</a></span> no questions, +but, with the vicomte's assistance, placed a bandage upon the young +girl's wound and wished to discreetly retire.</p> + +<p>"Mamma Caraman," said Spero, imploringly, "stay here and watch over the +young girl whom I place under your protection. Let no one know that she +is in this house."</p> + +<p>Spero thereupon withdrew, while Jane Zild remained under the care of the +good-hearted woman.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_271" id="Page_271">[Pg 271]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXVI" id="CHAPTER_XXXVI"></a>CHAPTER XXXVI</h2> + +<h3>MELOSAN'S SECRET</h3> + +<p>We left Melosan as he ran into the street in despair, hoping to find the +missing girl. Had Jane run away? Had she been abducted?</p> + +<p>Two policemen were patrolling the Champs-Elysées, and Anselmo went up to +them and politely asked them whether they had not seen his mistress, a +young lady?</p> + +<p>The officials looked suspiciously at him, and remarked that the young +lady would have something else to do than wander in the streets at this +time of night. Anselmo sorrowfully bowed his head, and, after thanking +them, continued on his way.</p> + +<p>He had reached the polygon and listened attentively. He heard steps, but +not the right ones. Suppose Jane had committed suicide?</p> + +<p>She had been so painfully excited this evening, and Anselmo, who knew +her past, shuddered when he thought that the Seine was not far away.</p> + +<p>Without a pause he ran to the edge of the water; the dawning day was raw +and chilly, and Anselmo shuddered as he looked in the dark waves. Were +they taking his dearest treasure on earth along in their course?</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_272" id="Page_272">[Pg 272]</a></span></p><p>What mysterious tie bound him to Jane Zild? the former galley-slave to +the beautiful, talented creature?</p> + +<p class="center"> * * * * *</p> + +<p>Twenty-one years had passed since Anselmo had witnessed the killing of +Madame Danglars by her son Benedetto and the latter's flight with the +treasure. Anselmo was, of course, a scoundrel, too; but his whole being +rose up in anger at such inhuman cruelty, and, grasping the knife, he +had threatened to kill the parricide if he did not depart at once.</p> + +<p>Benedetto was thrown into the sea, and was rescued upon the island of +Monte-Cristo.</p> + +<p>Anselmo had remained behind, half dazed, and only little by little did +he recover his senses sufficiently to think over his own situation. It +was a desperate one; yet he would not have exchanged with Benedetto for +any price.</p> + +<p>Suddenly, a faint glimmer of daylight shone through the open window, and +Anselmo trembled when his gaze fell on the pale face of the murdered +woman. Suppose she was not dead? Anselmo bent over her and listened; not +the slightest sign of breathing was visible, and yet the convict thought +he felt an almost imperceptible beating of the heart.</p> + +<p>Should he call for help? That would be equivalent to delivering himself +over to the hangman. If he hesitated, the woman would die, under all +circumstances. Who would believe him, if he said that the woman's own +son was the murderer? Appearances were against him, and, if the murdered +woman really recovered consciousness again, and she should be asked who +raised the knife against her, she would much sooner accuse him than the +son whom she madly loved.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_273" id="Page_273">[Pg 273]</a></span></p><p>While Anselmo was still debating the question in his mind, he heard a +noise in front of the house, and, hurrying to the window, he perceived +the priest, who had just returned home from his journey. The convict +uttered a cry of relief. He could now leave without having a murder upon +his soul; for the clergyman would, no doubt, immediately discover what +had happened, and take care of the victim. He waited until he had heard +the priest's steps on the stairs, and then swung himself through the +window on to the tree which had helped Benedetto to enter the room, and +disappeared at the very moment that the horrified clergyman entered the +room. Anselmo determined to leave France in an easterly direction. After +great trials and difficulties he reached Switzerland, and from there he +journeyed to Germany. Intelligent and active, he soon found a means of +earning an honest living; he settled in Munich, and, under the name of +Melosan, gave lessons in French.</p> + +<p>Fifteen years passed in this way. Anselmo worked hard, and was satisfied +with the reward of his activity. His scholars esteemed him. During this +time an entire change had taken place in the former convict. But then a +yearning to see France once more seized him, and he resolved to return +to the fatherland.</p> + +<p>He first went to Lyons, where he gave lessons in German and Italian. He +lived in a modest apartment in the Faubourg St. Antoine. One evening +Anselmo was walking along the quay when he heard quarrelling voices. A +woman's voice cried aloud:</p> + +<p>"Let me go! I want to go for my daughter. I have nothing to do with you. +Help, help!"</p> + +<p>Anselmo stood still. A woman was no doubt <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_274" id="Page_274">[Pg 274]</a></span>struggling with some men, and +when her cries redoubled, he forgot his prudence and hurried toward the +group.</p> + +<p>As he suspected, he found three drunken workmen trying to force a +sixteen-year-old girl from the grasp of an elderly woman.</p> + +<p>The woman cried loudly for help and struck angrily around her. The young +girl, however, silently defended herself.</p> + +<p>"Don't be so prudish, Zilda," said one of the men. "You make as much +noise as if we were going to hang the little one."</p> + +<p>The speaker, as he said this, threw his arms around the slim waist of +the young girl and tried to draw her to him. At this moment Anselmo +appeared, and with a terrible blow he struck the fellow to the ground.</p> + +<p>The young girl sobbed, and taking the hand of her rescuer she pressed a +kiss upon it. Then turning to the old lady, who was leaning against the +wall moaning, she cried, beside herself:</p> + +<p>"Oh, mother, mother! What is the matter with you? My God, she is dying!"</p> + +<p>This really seemed to be the case; the poor woman had become deathly +pale, and sank to the ground.</p> + +<p>"Let me help you," said Anselmo to the young girl. He bent down and took +the unconscious woman in his arms. "Where do you live?"</p> + +<p>As simple as the question was, the girl appeared to be embarrassed by +it.</p> + +<p>"Won't you tell me where you live?" said Anselmo, as the girl remained +silent.</p> + +<p>"We do not live far from here, in the Rue Franchefoin."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_275" id="Page_275">[Pg 275]</a></span></p><p>"I do not know that street."</p> + +<p>"Ah, I believe you," stammered the poor child, shuddering; "I shall +proceed in advance."</p> + +<p>"Do so," said Anselmo.</p> + +<p>The ex-priest followed her, bearing the unconscious woman in his +muscular arms, and only gradually did he perceive that his companion was +leading him into one of the most disreputable streets in the city.</p> + +<p>The young girl stopped in front of a small house. A robust woman stood +in the doorway, and when she saw the young girl she venomously said:</p> + +<p>"Zilda has taken time. She stayed away a good two hours to get her +daughter."</p> + +<p>"My mother is dangerously ill, perhaps dying," said the young girl in a +sharp voice.</p> + +<p>"It won't be so serious," replied the woman, with a coarse laugh.</p> + +<p>"Have you not heard that the woman is dangerously ill?" said the +ex-priest.</p> + +<p>"Is she sick?" asked the woman, coldly. "Well, if she dies, it won't be +a great misfortune. I—"</p> + +<p>"Madame, for God's sake!" implored the young girl.</p> + +<p>"Show me to a room where I can lay the invalid down," said Anselmo +roughly.</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes, directly. Follow me if you are in such a hurry," growled the +woman.</p> + +<p>Just then two men who were intoxicated staggered into the hallway.</p> + +<p>"Ah, there is Zilda," cried one of them; "quick, old woman; come in and +sing us a song."</p> + +<p>The woman opened a door and winked to the ex-priest to enter. The room +was small and dirty. In the corner<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_276" id="Page_276">[Pg 276]</a></span> stood a slovenly bed upon which +Anselmo deposited the invalid.</p> + +<p>"Is there a physician in the neighborhood?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"A physician? That is hardly worth the trouble," mocked the virago, "she +is only drunk."</p> + +<p>The ex-priest took a five-franc piece from his pocket and said:</p> + +<p>"Get a physician, I insist upon it."</p> + +<p>The next minute the virago was on the way.</p> + +<p>Anselmo remained alone with the two women. The young girl sobbed +silently, and the invalid remained motionless.</p> + +<p>"Mademoiselle," he began, "I think you might loosen your mother's dress; +the fainting fit lasts rather long."</p> + +<p>The young girl looked at him, seeming not to understand.</p> + +<p>"She is your mother, is she not?"</p> + +<p>The young girl nodded, and, rising, pressed her lips upon the woman's +forehead. Thereupon she loosened her mother's dress and held a glass of +water to her lips. The invalid mechanically drank a few drops, but soon +waved it back and whispered:</p> + +<p>"No more, no water, leave me!"</p> + +<p>"Mother," said the young girl, "mother, it is I; do you not know me?"</p> + +<p>"No, I do not know who you are!" cried the invalid. "Away, I cannot sing +to-day—my breast pains me. Oh—"</p> + +<p>"Oh, mother," sobbed the poor child.</p> + +<p>"Yes—I am cold—why do you put ice on my feet?" complained the invalid, +and with a quick movement she raised herself up in bed.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_277" id="Page_277">[Pg 277]</a></span></p><p>Suddenly the delirious woman caught sight of Anselmo, and with a +terrible cry she sprung at him with clinched fists.</p> + +<p>"There you are, you wretch," she hissed; "where have you put your black +coat?"</p> + +<p>Just then the virago returned with the doctor.</p> + +<p>The latter looked contemptuously at her, and in a gruff voice said:</p> + +<p>"Lie down!"</p> + +<p>He then beat her bosom, counted her pulse, and shook his head.</p> + +<p>"Nothing can be done," he dryly declared; "her strength has been +impaired by a fast and dissipated life, and—"</p> + +<p>"But, doctor," interrupted Anselmo, "have some compunction for the poor +woman. You see she is conscious and understands every word."</p> + +<p>"Ah, you are probably a relative of hers, or has your warm interest in +her some other ground?"</p> + +<p>"Doctor, I only speak as a human being," replied Anselmo, sternly, "and +if you do not do your duty as a physician I will notify the proper +authorities."</p> + +<p>This threat had the desired effect. The doctor drew his note-book from +his pocket, rapidly wrote a prescription, and went away.</p> + +<p>Anselmo took the prescription and hurried to the nearest drug-store. As +he walked along the snow-covered streets, he muttered to himself:</p> + +<p>"Merciful God, do not punish me so hard!"</p> + +<p>When he returned he found the virago awaiting him at the door.</p> + +<p>"Monsieur," she said, "it seems that Zilda interests you."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_278" id="Page_278">[Pg 278]</a></span></p><p>"Yes, like any other unhappy creature."</p> + +<p>"Well, I have her papers. Her name is Zild—Jane Zild."</p> + +<p>"Give them to me," said Anselmo, firmly; "I will take care of her."</p> + +<p>"May God reward you; the sooner you get her out of my house the happier +I shall be."</p> + +<p>The woman hurried into the house, and Anselmo handed the invalid's +daughter the medicine he had bought and waited for the return of the +virago. In less than five minutes she returned and handed the ex-priest +a package of papers.</p> + +<p>"Where can I look through them?" he asked, uneasily.</p> + +<p>"Oh, come into the kitchen."</p> + +<p>Anselmo accepted her invitation, and by the flickering light of a tallow +candle he unfolded the yellow and withered papers.</p> + +<p>One of the papers contained a passport for the work-man, Jean Zild, and +his daughter Jane, made out by the commune of Sitzheim in Alsace. When +Anselmo read this he grew pale and nearly fell to the floor in a faint.</p> + +<p>"The reading seems to overtax your strength," said the woman giggling. +"Zilda has travelled a great deal, and maybe you have met her before."</p> + +<p>"I hardly think so," stammered Anselmo.</p> + +<p>In company with the virago, Anselmo re-entered the sick-room, and, +laying his hand on the young girl's shoulder, he said:</p> + +<p>"My dear child, your mother is much better now, and if you follow my +advice you will go to bed and take a rest. I shall stay with the +invalid. The housekeeper here has kindly consented to give you a room."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_279" id="Page_279">[Pg 279]</a></span></p><p>"Not for any price," cried the little one in terror. "I cannot stay in +this house overnight."</p> + +<p>Little by little he managed to calm the poor child and make her +understand his aim. She hesitatingly consented to stay overnight in the +house, and the housekeeper conducted her to a little room. With inward +terror the little one gazed at the unclean walls, and only her love for +her mother induced her to stay and not return even now.</p> + +<p>"Good-night, mother," she said, sobbing.</p> + +<p>The woman looked vacantly at her and gave no sign of recognition of her +daughter.</p> + +<p>"Do not wake your mother up," said Anselmo, hastily. "Sleep is necessary +to her and I will call you if she asks for you."</p> + +<p>"Then you really intend to stay here?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"Do you know us?"</p> + +<p>"No," stammered Anselmo; "but go to bed now, it is late."</p> + +<p>"You will surely call me?" asked the little one.</p> + +<p>"Certainly; go now and rely on me."</p> + +<p>She went, and Anselmo was alone with the invalid—the dying woman, as he +shudderingly said to himself.</p> + +<p>From time to time the sick woman would wake up in her sleep and utter a +low moan.</p> + +<p>Anselmo looked in terror at the face, which showed traces of former +beauty. Whose fault was it that her life ended so early and so sadly?</p> + +<p>Suddenly the invalid opened her big black eyes, and gazed at the +ex-convict who was sitting by her bedside with folded hands.</p> + +<p>"How did you get here?" she asked, timidly.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_280" id="Page_280">[Pg 280]</a></span></p><p>"You are sick, keep quiet; later on you shall learn everything," +replied Anselmo.</p> + +<p>"I am sick! Ha! ha! ha! I am cursed—cursed!" she cried.</p> + +<p>"Keep still; go to sleep," begged Anselmo, frightened. "No one has +cursed you."</p> + +<p>"But he—my father—oh, I have brought shame and sorrow upon him; but it +was not my fault—no, not my fault! Oh, I was so young and innocent. +Father said, pray earnestly and often, and so I prayed. Oh, how nice it +was in Sitzheim; the church lay upon a hill, hid in ivy, from which a +view of the peaceful village could be had. A well was also in the +village. Evenings we young girls used to go there to get water, and +then—then he went past. How he frowned. He wore a black coat, and the +bald spot on his shaved head shone like ivory. When he came near, we +made the sign of the cross. We must honor the embassadors of God!"</p> + +<p>The dying woman with trembling hands made the sign of the cross, and +Anselmo groaned and moaned.</p> + +<p>"I had not yet gone to confession," continued the delirious woman; "my +father used to laugh at me and say: 'Stay at home, little Jane, you +haven't any sins to confess yet.' I stayed. I was only sixteen. But one +day as I was sitting in front of our door the man addressed me.</p> + +<p>"'Why do you not come to confession?' he asked sternly.</p> + +<p>"'Because my father said I was too young, and have no sins to confess.'</p> + +<p>"'We are all sinners in God,' he earnestly replied. 'Do not forget that +you will be eternally damned if you do not confess.'</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_281" id="Page_281">[Pg 281]</a></span></p><p>"I got frightened; no, I did not wish to be damned, and so I went +secretly to confession. He always gave me absolution and I was happy. He +sometimes met me when I went walking, and was always very friendly to +me."</p> + +<p>Anselmo leaned his head against the hard bed-post and sobbed—they were +the bitterest tears he had ever wept.</p> + +<p>"He told me I was so pretty," continued the woman. "He promised me +dresses, books and sweetmeats—my father must not know that I saw his +reverence almost every day, and then—then he suddenly disappeared from +the village—his superiors had transferred him, and I—I wept until my +eyes were red. And then—then came a terrible time. The girls at the +well pointed their fingers in scorn at me—my father threw me out of the +house! I ran as far as my feet would carry me—I suffered from hunger +and thirst—I froze, for it was a bitter cold winter; and when I could +no longer sustain my misery, I sprang into the water.</p> + +<p>"I was rescued," she laughingly continued, "and then my child, my little +Jane, was born, and to nurse her I had to keep on living. Yes, I lived, +but how? The fault was not mine, but that of the hypocrite and scoundrel +in clergyman's dress!"</p> + +<p>"Mercy," implored Anselmo. "Mercy, Jane!"</p> + +<p>"Ha! who—is it that—calls me?" stammered the dying woman, faintly. "I +should know—that—voice!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, Jane, it is I—the wretched priest!" whispered Anselmo; "forgive me +for my crimes against you and tell me if that girl there is," he pointed +to the other room—"my—our daughter?"</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_282" id="Page_282">[Pg 282]</a></span></p><p>But the invalid could not speak any more; she only nodded, and then +closed her eyes forever.</p> + +<p>When day dawned a broken-down man rose from the bedside of the deceased. +He had spent the night in torture, and now went to wake the daughter of +the dead woman—wake his daughter! He must take care of her without +letting her know that he was her father.</p> + +<p>When he told the girl her mother was dead, she threw herself upon the +corpse, covered the pale face with tears and kisses, and yet—curious +phase of this girl's soul—when she thought she was not observed, she +whispered faintly:</p> + +<p>"God be thanked that your troubles are over, poor mother—now I can love +you without blushing for you."</p> + +<p>Anselmo ordered a respectable funeral, and when he returned from the +cemetery with the young girl he said with deep emotion:</p> + +<p>"Jane, I knew your mother—I promised her that I would look out for you. +Will you stay with me?"</p> + +<p>Jane Zild sorrowfully said "Yes." Anselmo left Lyons in company with the +lonely child. He worked hard to place Jane above want, and tenderly +loved her. Gradually he tried to win the young girl's confidence; he +comprehended that Jane was on the brink of despair, and to distract her +he began to educate her.</p> + +<p>The result was well worth the work. Jane learned with the greatest +facility, and took pleasure in study. Yet she remained pale and +melancholy, and Anselmo knew what troubled her—the memory of the +horrible past. It seemed as if she were branded—as if every one could +read on her forehead whose daughter she was.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_283" id="Page_283">[Pg 283]</a></span></p><p>An accident revealed to Anselmo that Jane possessed eminent musical +talents, and a magnificent contralto voice. He worked, saved and +economized to be able to give Jane the best teachers. He removed with +the young girl to a German city which possessed a celebrated +conservatory; there Jane studied music and singing.</p> + +<p>Three years father and daughter remained in Leipsic, and then Jane felt +homesick—homesick for France. Anselmo selected Paris as their place of +residence, and hoped that she would succeed in conquering a position at +the Opera.</p> + +<p>But Jane refused all offers from the managers, and when Anselmo +reproached her she said, in bitter tones:</p> + +<p>"If I were not my mother's daughter the matter would be different. Shame +would kill me if some one were to discover in me the daughter of Jane +Zild. No, I must remain in seclusion until God sees fit to end my +miserable existence!"</p> + +<p>It therefore surprised him when the young girl told him she thought of +visiting the young painter's soiree and singing there. Was she in love +with the painter, or did she expect to meet some one in his parlor?</p> + +<p>Anselmo declared that he would not go to any party in Paris, and would +only bring her to the Rue Montaigne and then call for her again. He was, +however, not prepared for the surprise which awaited him in Gontram +Sabran's parlor. He recognized in Count Vellini's secretary the demon +Benedetto, and his heart ceased beating when he saw the wretch. He hoped +Benedetto would not recognize him, but he was destined to be deceived, +as we have seen.</p> + +<p>When Anselmo heard the name of the Vicomte of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_284" id="Page_284">[Pg 284]</a></span> Monte-Cristo, he +recollected the oath which the convict Benedetto had sworn against the +Count of Monte-Cristo.</p> + +<p>Hidden by the drapery, he had given Spero the mysterious warning. After +the soiree was over he was surprised at the excited condition of Jane. +He attributed it to a recurrence of her thoughts to her horrible past.</p> + +<p>And while he was promising to assist the former galley-slave in carrying +out some deviltry to save himself from being unmasked, Jane disappeared. +Anselmo regarded it as a new evidence of the wrath of God.</p> + +<p>How long he lay crouched in a corner of the quay, buried in thought, he +knew not; all he knew was that the sound of hurried footsteps, which +were coming toward him, had aroused him.</p> + +<p>Suppose it was Jane who wished to seek oblivion in the waters of the +Seine? Anselmo listened. The footsteps drew near now—the spectral +apparition of a woman went past him and swung itself on the bridge +railing.</p> + +<p>"Jane—my child!" cried the despairing father; but when he reached the +spot where he had seen the apparition it was empty.</p> + +<p>He bent over the railing. Something dark swam about. Anselmo thought he +recognized Jane's black dress, and only filled with a desire to rescue +his child, he plunged into the turbulent waters.</p> + +<p>With a few powerful strokes he had reached the place where he had last +seen the figure. Thank God! it was in front of him. He stretched out his +arm—clutched the hand of the drowning person, and tried to swim back to +shore with his dear burden.</p> + +<p>But the shore was still far away, the body lay heavy as lead on his left +arm, and much as he tried to cleave<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_285" id="Page_285">[Pg 285]</a></span> the ice-cold water with his right +he could not succeed in doing it. He felt his strength grow feeble—was +he going to be overcome at the last moment?</p> + +<p>"Help! help! we are sinking!" he cried aloud, and as he felt himself +seized at that moment by a huge wave, whose power he could not +resist—the water entered his mouth—he cried again:</p> + +<p>"Help! help!"</p> + +<p>"Patience! Keep up a moment longer! I am coming!" came back in a loud +voice.</p> + +<p>The water was parted with powerful strokes, four arms were stretched +toward the drowning persons, and Anselmo and his burden were brought to +the shore by two men.</p> + +<p>"Confound the cold," said one of the men, shaking himself as if he were +a poodle. "I should like to know what reason induced these two people to +take a cold bath so early in the morning?"</p> + +<p>"Bring them to my house, Bobichel," said the other, a strong, handsome +man, "and everything will be explained there."</p> + +<p>"Yes, if they are still alive," replied Bobichel. "I think, Fanfaro, +that we came just at the right moment. What will Madame Irene say when +we arrive home?"</p> + +<p>"She will at once prepare for everything," said Fanfaro, laughing.</p> + +<p>After they had both walked along with their burdens in their arms for +about a quarter of an hour, they stopped in front of a small house which +lay back of a pretty garden.</p> + +<p>Five minutes later both the unfortunates lay in a <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_286" id="Page_286">[Pg 286]</a></span>comfortably warmed +room, and Fanfaro, his wife, and Bobichel busily attended to them.</p> + +<p>"Who can they be?" asked Irene, gently, of her husband.</p> + +<p>"God knows," replied Fanfaro; "anyhow, I am glad that they both still +live."</p> + +<p>But the woman Anselmo had rescued at the risk of his life was not Jane, +but a gray-haired old lady.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_287" id="Page_287">[Pg 287]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXVII" id="CHAPTER_XXXVII"></a>CHAPTER XXXVII</h2> + +<h3>CARMEN</h3> + +<p>In a magnificently furnished house in the Rue de Rivoli sat Carmen, the +handsome daughter of the bank director Larsagny. She was pensively +gazing at the carpet, and from time to time uttered a low sigh.</p> + +<p>"Aha, bah!" she muttered; "he shall tell me all."</p> + +<p>She rang a silver bell, and immediately after a maid appeared.</p> + +<p>"Where is Monsieur de Larsagny?"</p> + +<p>"In his office."</p> + +<p>"Since when?"</p> + +<p>"Since eight o'clock."</p> + +<p>"And what time is it now?"</p> + +<p>"Ten."</p> + +<p>"Good. Tell Jean to serve breakfast here in my boudoir, and then go and +tell Monsieur de Larsagny that I await him."</p> + +<p>A quarter of an hour later the banker appeared in the boudoir.</p> + +<p>He ate so greedily that Carmen impatiently exclaimed:</p> + +<p>"Are you not yet satisfied?"</p> + +<p>"Really, I have a good appetite this morning," nodded Larsagny.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_288" id="Page_288">[Pg 288]</a></span></p><p>"Do you know how your phenomenal appetite appears to me?" asked Carmen, +laughing.</p> + +<p>"No. What do you mean?"</p> + +<p>"Well, I mean that you must have been starving at one time, and since +then you always feel greedy."</p> + +<p>Larsagny shuddered and his brow contracted.</p> + +<p>"Do not speak of such things; I cannot bear it," he said, with a frown.</p> + +<p>"Why not? Not every one comes to the world as a millionnaire. I, for +instance, as a child, have suffered more than once from hunger, and—"</p> + +<p>"Carmen, be silent," said the banker, sternly; "you'll spoil my appetite +if you talk so."</p> + +<p>"I should think your appetite would be stilled by this time. What you +have already eaten would have fed an army."</p> + +<p>Larsagny did not answer. He was busy eating an Edam cheese, and not +until all the plates were empty did lie lay his knife and fork on the +table, and, breathing more freely, say:</p> + +<p>"So, now I can stand it for a little while."</p> + +<p>Carmen rang the bell. The table was cleared off, and as soon as the +servant had brought the cigarettes and cigars, the girl motioned to him +to leave.</p> + +<p>Carmen lighted a cigarette, and, leaning back in her chair, said:</p> + +<p>"I have something important to say to you."</p> + +<p>"What is it?" asked Larsagny.</p> + +<p>"Oh! different things," replied Carmen.</p> + +<p>"About money? Do not be timid."</p> + +<p>"It is not about money, but about an information."</p> + +<p>"An information?" asked the banker.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_289" id="Page_289">[Pg 289]</a></span></p><p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"Really, Carmen, you are speaking in riddles to-day—"</p> + +<p>"Which you will, I hope, solve for me," interrupted the young lady, +dryly. "In the first place, what is the meaning of your gigantic +appetite?"</p> + +<p>"Ah! that's very simple; I am hungry."</p> + +<p>"That isn't it. I have seen a great many hungry people. In fact, I have +often suffered from hunger when mother had no money to buy bread."</p> + +<p>"Carmen, how often have I told you that I do not like these +reminiscences?"</p> + +<p>"Why not? Take an example from me, and tell me a little of your past."</p> + +<p>"Enough—enough!" cried Larsagny, growing pale.</p> + +<p>"Answer my questions, and then you shall have quiet."</p> + +<p>"Carmen, you are bothering yourself and me unnecessarily. I give you the +assurance—"</p> + +<p>"As if your assurances had the slightest value for me," interrupted +Carmen.</p> + +<p>Larsagny smiled in a sickly fashion.</p> + +<p>"Carmen, you are childish," he said. "I should think you ought to have +known enough of me by this time to—"</p> + +<p>"To be able to hate you thoroughly. You have cheated me of my youth and +innocence."</p> + +<p>"Carmen, for God's sake, not so loud! Suppose some one heard you?" cried +the banker, anxiously.</p> + +<p>"What do I care? You are a baron, live in Florence, and have a good +housekeeper, whose only joy is her eighteen-year-old daughter. One night +the mother is away. The baron uses the opportunity to take <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_290" id="Page_290">[Pg 290]</a></span>advantage of +the young girl. When the mother returns the next day and learns the +truth, she becomes so frightened that she falls dead on the spot. The +unhappy girl tries to throw herself into the river, but is prevented +from doing so, and finally becomes the mistress of the villain."</p> + +<p>"Carmen!"</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes, I know I am no better than you. Monsieur de Larsagny, tell me +why you do not make me your wife?"</p> + +<p>"My God, because—"</p> + +<p>"Well? Why do you pause? Do you know what I believe? You are a married +man with a dreadful past!"</p> + +<p>"Carmen, you are doing me an injury."</p> + +<p>"Ha! ha! If I do you a wrong, I am at the most too easy with you."</p> + +<p>"Carmen, what is the matter with you?" exclaimed Larsagny, in despair. +"Only yesterday you were so affectionate, and now—"</p> + +<p>"Bah! Yesterday is yesterday, and to-day is to-day. Either I find out +from you who you really are, or—"</p> + +<p>"Or?"</p> + +<p>"Or I shall find out myself, and should I discover that you have +committed some unpunished crime, I shall denounce you, even though you +take revenge upon me for it."</p> + +<p>Larsagny had sprung up, and looking at Carmen in amazement, he +stammered:</p> + +<p>"You—would—dare—to do—that?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. And if you look at yourself in the glass, you will see that my +wildest declarations are far behind the reality. Your answer shines in +every color."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_291" id="Page_291">[Pg 291]</a></span></p><p>"Listen to me, Carmen," said the banker, in a tender voice. "It is time +you dropped the subject. I am not an Adonis, and as you have rightly +suspected, I have seen a great deal and gone through many troubles, but +in spite of all that—"</p> + +<p>"Well, in spite of all that?"</p> + +<p>"I do not deserve your unjust accusations. Can you, for instance, +reproach me for the hunger which bothers me continually?"</p> + +<p>"No, only I should like to learn the cause."</p> + +<p>"The cause?" repeated Larsagny.</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"Then listen. I will tell you everything, even though you should laugh +at me. Years ago I was travelling in Italy, and as I had a large sum of +money in my pocket, I was attacked by robbers. The wretches locked me in +a cell and let me starve. One day I asked for food, and to mock me they +made the bandit who guarded me eat his meal in my presence.</p> + +<p>"'Can I get a meal here?' I asked of the bandit, who was swallowing some +peas.</p> + +<p>"'Is your excellency hungry?' asked the fellow (his name was Peppino) in +surprise.</p> + +<p>"I was angry.</p> + +<p>"'What!' I exclaimed in a rage, 'since twenty-four hours I have not +eaten a thing, and you ask me if I am hungry.'</p> + +<p>"'Then you wish to eat?'</p> + +<p>"'Yes, at once, if it is possible.'</p> + +<p>"'If you pay for it.'</p> + +<p>"'I will pay what you ask,' I cried.</p> + +<p>"'What do you wish?'</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_292" id="Page_292">[Pg 292]</a></span></p><p>"'Anything, a chicken or a partridge.'</p> + +<p>"'Good. Let us say a chicken.'</p> + +<p>"'But have you a cook here?'</p> + +<p>"'Certainly,' nodded the bandit, and, raising his voice, he cried: 'A +chicken for the gentleman.'</p> + +<p>"Ten minutes later a chicken was brought in by a waiter in a frock suit. +For a moment I thought I was in the Café de Paris.</p> + +<p>"I ate the chicken with my eyes, and asked for a knife and fork. Peppino +gave them to me, but just as I was about to attack the chicken, he held +my hand and said:</p> + +<p>"'Pardon me, your excellency, but we get paid here before things are +eaten.'</p> + +<p>"I looked at him in astonishment.</p> + +<p>"'What does the chicken cost?' I asked.</p> + +<p>"'Five thousand louis d'ors, or one hundred thousand francs.'</p> + +<p>"'Are you crazy? One hundred thousand francs for a chicken?'</p> + +<p>"'Your excellency is not aware how hard it is to get chickens in this +neighborhood.'"</p> + +<p>"Well, and how did the matter end?" asked Carmen.</p> + +<p>"I sent the chicken back, and asked for a piece of bread. It was brought +to me by Battista, another bandit, on a silver salver.</p> + +<p>"'How dear is the bread?' I asked, trembling.</p> + +<p>"'One hundred thousand francs.'</p> + +<p>"'What! A piece of bread one hundred thousand francs?' I cried in +amazement.</p> + +<p>"'One hundred thousand francs.'</p> + +<p>"'But you asked no more for the chicken?'</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_293" id="Page_293">[Pg 293]</a></span></p><p>"'Prices here are fixed,' replied Peppino; 'pay and you can eat.'</p> + +<p>"'But with what should I pay?' I cried in desperation; 'the money I have +with me—'</p> + +<p>"'Is your whole fortune,' interrupted Peppino. 'You have five million +and fifty thousand francs in your portfolio in drafts, and you can get +fifty chickens and a half for it.'</p> + +<p>"I was astounded. The robbers knew exactly how much money I had, and I +saw I had either to pay or to starve.</p> + +<p>"'Will I be able to eat in silence?' I asked, 'if I pay?'</p> + +<p>"'Certainly.'</p> + +<p>"'Good, then bring me some writing materials.'</p> + +<p>"I wrote out a draft on Rome for one hundred thousand francs, and +received the chicken."</p> + +<p>"What was their motive?" asked Carmen.</p> + +<p>"Merely to plunder and blackmail me."</p> + +<p>"Then they demanded more?" asked Carmen.</p> + +<p>"Oh, no. After I had eaten the chicken, I felt thirsty. I called Peppina +and told him.</p> + +<p>"'You wish to drink something?' he asked.</p> + +<p>"'Yes. I am dying with thirst.'</p> + +<p>"'I am very sorry to hear it. The wine this year is very bad and very +dear.'</p> + +<p>"'Then bring me water,' I cried.</p> + +<p>"'Oh, water is still dearer.'</p> + +<p>"'Then give me a glass of wine.'</p> + +<p>"'We only sell by the bottle.'</p> + +<p>"'Then bring me a bottle of Orreto.'</p> + +<p>"'Directly.'</p> + +<p>"'And the wine costs?'</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_294" id="Page_294">[Pg 294]</a></span></p><p>"'Twenty-five thousand francs per bottle.'</p> + +<p>"'Swindler! Robber!' I cried, beside myself.</p> + +<p>"'Do not talk so loud, master might hear you.'</p> + +<p>"'I don't care. Who is your master?'</p> + +<p>"'Luigi Vampa.'</p> + +<p>"'Can I speak to him?'</p> + +<p>"'Yes.'</p> + +<p>"Peppino went away, and two minutes later a slimly built, fine-looking +man, with dark hair and eyes, stood before me!</p> + +<p>"'You want to speak to me?' he asked, politely.</p> + +<p>"'Are you the chief of the people who brought me here?' I said.</p> + +<p>"'Yes.'</p> + +<p>"'What ransom do you wish of me?'</p> + +<p>"'Only the five million francs you possess.'</p> + +<p>"'Take my life,' I cried, 'but leave me my money.'</p> + +<p>"'Your death wouldn't do us any good,' replied the bandit, 'but your +money would.'</p> + +<p>"'Take a million then?'</p> + +<p>"'No.'</p> + +<p>"'Two?'</p> + +<p>"'No.'</p> + +<p>"'Three?'</p> + +<p>"'No.'</p> + +<p>"'Four?'</p> + +<p>"'We leave haggling to usurers.'</p> + +<p>"'Then take everything from me and kill me!' I cried in despair.</p> + +<p>"'We do not wish to do that.'</p> + +<p>"'And suppose I die of hunger?'</p> + +<p>"'Then we are not responsible for that.'</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_295" id="Page_295">[Pg 295]</a></span></p><p>"'Keep your wine and I will keep my money.'</p> + +<p>"'Just as you please,' laughed Vampa, and went away.</p> + +<p>"Two days later I asked for food. A fine dinner was served. I paid a +million and stilled my hunger. This continued three days longer, and +when I finally counted the contents of my portfolio, I found I had only +fifty thousand francs left. I considered what I should do with this sum, +and fell asleep over my plans. When I awoke, I was on the road to Rome. +When I suddenly looked at myself in a mirror I found to my horror that +my hair had turned gray. Since that time I have always feared that I +would never have sufficient to eat; and now you know the cause of my +ravenous appetite."</p> + +<p>"Yet I cannot understand why they should have wanted to torture you so. +It must have been an act of revenge," said Carmen.</p> + +<p>"You are mistaken," replied Larsagny, "I fear no one and every one +esteems me; I—"</p> + +<p>"One moment," interrupted Carmen, as she looked fixedly at the banker. +"Why did you get frightened at the <i>soiree</i> recently, when the servant +announced the Vicomte of Monte-Cristo? I thought you feared no one, +baron?"</p> + +<p>Larsagny stared at the young girl as if she had been a spectre. Carmen +continued:</p> + +<p>"I have not finished yet. In the evening I stood on the terrace and +heard these words:</p> + +<p>"'Monsieur de Larsagny, take care you do not learn my name too soon.'"</p> + +<p>"Ah, you are spying on me," cried Larsagny angrily; "have a care or—"</p> + +<p>"I do not fear you," said Carmen, calmly; "I will be<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_296" id="Page_296">[Pg 296]</a></span> the first to urge +your punishment, if some suspicious circumstance should arise and—"</p> + +<p>"Be silent, wretched creature!" cried Larsagny angrily, "be silent, +or—"</p> + +<p>He grasped a knife and rushed upon Carmen. The latter stared at him in +such a way that he dropped the weapon and stammered:</p> + +<p>"Carmen, you will drive me crazy!"</p> + +<p>At this moment the door opened, and the servant brought in a card which +he handed to Larsagny.</p> + +<p>"The gentleman is waiting in the parlor," he said; "will the baron +receive him?"</p> + +<p>Before Larsagny could throw a look at the card, Carmen had grasped it.</p> + +<p>"Signor Fagiano," she read aloud, and as the banker with trembling voice +said he would be down, she nodded to the servant to go away, and then +mockingly said:</p> + +<p>"Signor Fagiano has no doubt come to tell the baron his name. Good luck +to him!"</p> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_297" id="Page_297">[Pg 297]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXVIII" id="CHAPTER_XXXVIII"></a>CHAPTER XXXVIII</h2> + +<h3>RECOLLECTIONS</h3> + +<p>Signor Fagiano stood in the beautiful parlor, and a malicious smile +played about his lips.</p> + +<p>The banker entered now. The scene in the painter's garden would not +vanish from his mind. Fagiano had approached him then and triumphantly +whispered:</p> + +<p>"Monsieur de Larsagny, I know your past."</p> + +<p>Larsagny had uttered a cry of terror.</p> + +<p>"If I am to remain silent," Fagiano had added, "I must have money."</p> + +<p>"But who are you?"</p> + +<p>Whereupon the answer had come:</p> + +<p>"Take care that you do not find out my name too soon."</p> + +<p>With inward fear the banker approached the Italian to-day.</p> + +<p>"Signor Fagiano, what brings you here to-day? This is the second time +that you have crossed my path, and I hope it will be the last. I do not +know you, you do not know me, and I cannot understand to what I am +indebted for the honor of your visit. I am very patient, but everything +has its limits, and only the position I occupy prevents me from throwing +you out."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_298" id="Page_298">[Pg 298]</a></span></p><p>"Call your servants, Monsieur de Larsagny. I have no fear of +publicity," said Fagiano, boldly.</p> + +<p>The banker grasped the bell-rope, but let his hand fall again, and +Fagiano, who noticed this, mockingly observed:</p> + +<p>"Why do you hesitate? Would you prefer to finish our interview without +witnesses?"</p> + +<p>"Impudent puppy!" hissed Larsagny.</p> + +<p>"Do not get excited! Let us come to the point."</p> + +<p>"I have been waiting for that a long time," growled Larsagny; "tell me, +first of all, who are you?"</p> + +<p>Fagiano drew nearer to the banker, and, grinning, said:</p> + +<p>"You really do not recognize me?"</p> + +<p>"No."</p> + +<p>The Italian laughed loudly.</p> + +<p>"Then give me two hundred thousand francs," said Fagiano, "and I will +disappear forever."</p> + +<p>"I would be a fool to give an unknown person a single sou."</p> + +<p>"You really do not know my name, then?"</p> + +<p>"No."</p> + +<p>"H'm; but I know yours."</p> + +<p>"That isn't a great thing. My name is known on the street and at Court."</p> + +<p>"Yes, the name of Larsagny; as Monsieur Danglars you are also known, +though in a different way."</p> + +<p>Larsagny trembled and was about to fall.</p> + +<p>"You lie!" he hissed.</p> + +<p>"What would you say if I told your sovereign that the man he put at the +head of the syndicate is only one of that crowd of unhanged thieves who +roam about in the world?"</p> + +<p>"Wretch, you will say nothing of the kind," cried <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_299" id="Page_299">[Pg 299]</a></span>Danglars (for it was +really he); and putting his hand in his breast-pocket he drew forth a +revolver and held it at the Italian's breast.</p> + +<p>"Softly, softly," said Fagiano, as he took the weapon away from the +banker and put it in his pocket. "A little while ago I asked for two +hundred thousand francs; now I must increase my demand to half a +million."</p> + +<p>"You are a fool," said Danglars, pale with rage. "You will never get a +sou from me."</p> + +<p>"Have no fear about that; as soon as I threaten to expose you, you will +submit; I have some piquant details <i>in petto</i>."</p> + +<p>"What do you mean by that?"</p> + +<p>"Well, I will announce your name at the same time as mine."</p> + +<p>"What has that got to do with me?"</p> + +<p>"More than you think. Don't you really know me?"</p> + +<p>"No."</p> + +<p>"So much the worse. But tell me, baron, is Carmen really your daughter?"</p> + +<p>"But—who—gives—you—the right—" said Danglars, stammering.</p> + +<p>"Next you will deny that you ever had a wife?"</p> + +<p>"Leave my wife's name alone."</p> + +<p>"Good. Then let us talk of your daughter who is much older and does not +bear the name of Carmen."</p> + +<p>Danglars hid his face in his hands.</p> + +<p>"Baron, you are the friend of the emperor and are very rich, and no one +suspects that Baron Larsagny is the former forger and swindler Danglars. +One word from me and you sink deep in the mud. It depends on you whether +I am to be your friend or your enemy."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_300" id="Page_300">[Pg 300]</a></span></p><p>"Ah, now I know who you are," said the banker, springing up. "You are +Andrea Cavalcanti."</p> + +<p>"Right," laughed Fagiano.</p> + +<p>"Now I remember. You put a title to your name, played the heir of a +great fortune, and entered into near relations with my family. An +impudence which the avenging arm of the law punished."</p> + +<p>"Yes, I am Benedetto the murderer—Benedetto the criminal. But do you +know who my father was?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I heard about the scandalous trial; I was not in France at the +time, but—Go on, you," urged Danglars.</p> + +<p>"And do you also know the name of my mother, baron?"</p> + +<p>"No."</p> + +<p>"Well, then, my mother was—the Baroness Danglars."</p> + +<p>"The miserable creature—the wretch!" cried Danglars, hoarsely. "But +no—you lie, it cannot be so."</p> + +<p>"She was my mother," said Benedetto, accenting the word <i>was</i>.</p> + +<p>"She was? Is she dead?" asked Danglars, softly.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I killed her."</p> + +<p>"Horrible," groaned Danglars, wringing his hands.</p> + +<p>"If you want proofs," continued Benedetto, coldly, "here they are."</p> + +<p>He took Anselmo's writing out of his pocket and handed it to the banker.</p> + +<p>"Read," he said, indifferently.</p> + +<p>"What do you want from me?" murmured Danglars, hoarsely.</p> + +<p>"First, money, and then let us talk further."</p> + +<p>"You shall have what you want," replied Danglars.</p> + +<p>"Good; now comes the second point."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_301" id="Page_301">[Pg 301]</a></span></p><p>"Do not torture me any longer," said Danglars.</p> + +<p>"Have you forgotten who it was that humiliated you, trod you in the +dust?" said Benedetto, laying his hand on the banker's shoulder. "That +man is your bad genius as well as mine. It was the Count of Monte-Cristo +who taught me the pleasures of life only to throw me back to the Bagnio +again. Since I have been free I dream of revenge against him. I know the +spot where he is mortal. Can I count on your support?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; but I fear our attempts will be fruitless."</p> + +<p>"Fruitless? I swear to you that we shall be successful."</p> + +<p>"But he is a supernatural man. You might as well attack God."</p> + +<p>"And yet he has an Achilles heel! Once more, will you help me?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; but I do not understand you."</p> + +<p>"The whole of the Count of Monte-Cristo's affection is centred in his +son, and through this son we must strike him. He shall suffer all the +tortures of hell, and in his son, whom he idolizes, we shall punish +him."</p> + +<p>"Now I understand you," said Danglars.</p> + +<p>"In the first place, you must give me money, and then wait until I call +you."</p> + +<p>"And you guarantee that the grief will kill him?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I guarantee it."</p> + +<p>"Then I am yours."</p> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_302" id="Page_302">[Pg 302]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXIX" id="CHAPTER_XXXIX"></a>CHAPTER XXXIX</h2> + +<h3>DISAPPEARED</h3> + +<p>Let us return to the Vicomte Spero.</p> + +<p>Three days had passed since Jane Zild had been taken to the elegant +house. She still lay motionless and pale, and Madame Caraman never left +her bedside.</p> + +<p>A slight moan from the invalid caused Mamma Caraman to bend over her.</p> + +<p>"Poor child," she sorrowfully murmured, "she looks as if she were going +to die. God knows what way she got the wound—I always fear that she +herself fired the shot."</p> + +<p>Jane moaned louder and felt her heart with her hand.</p> + +<p>"Be still, my dear," whispered Mamma Caraman. She poured a few drops of +liquor into a cup and told the girl to drink it.</p> + +<p>"No, I will not drink!" said Jane, passionately. "Leave me, I do not +want to live," she suddenly cried. "Oh, why did you take the weapon from +me? I cannot live with this pressure on the breast. The horrible secret +pulls me to the ground—I am sinking—I am sinking! Ah, and she was +nevertheless my mother—I loved her so—I love her yet."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_303" id="Page_303">[Pg 303]</a></span></p><p>With tears in her eyes Mamma Caraman tried to quiet the excited girl, +but she could not do so. She pressed lightly on a silver bell which +stood near the bed.</p> + +<p>In less than five minutes the vicomte appeared.</p> + +<p>"Is she worse?" he anxiously asked.</p> + +<p>"Yes, she is feverish again, and I thought it might be better to send +for a physician."</p> + +<p>Spero drew near to the invalid's couch and took her arm to feel her +pulse. Strange to say, Jane became calmer as soon as he touched her. The +wild-looking eyes lost their frightened look; the lips which had +muttered disconnected words closed, and the small hands lay quietly on +the silk cover.</p> + +<p>"She is sleeping," said Mamma Caraman, "I am sorry now that I called +you."</p> + +<p>"On the contrary I am glad I came. I will take your place and you can +sleep a little."</p> + +<p>"Not for the world," cried Mamma Caraman. "I am not tired at all."</p> + +<p>"That is very funny; for three days you haven't closed an eye," said the +vicomte. "Lie down for an hour, Mamma Caraman. I promise to call you as +soon as the invalid stirs."</p> + +<p>Mamma Caraman thereupon laid herself upon a sofa, and the next minute +she was fast asleep.</p> + +<p>An hour later the young girl opened her eyes and looked about her.</p> + +<p>"Where am I?" she murmured.</p> + +<p>"With me—under my protection," replied Spero, and pressing Jane's hand +to his lips he added, "Ah, Jane, why did you wish to die? Did you not +know that your soul would take mine along?"</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_304" id="Page_304">[Pg 304]</a></span></p><p>The young girl listened as if in a dream, and unconsciously looked at +the vicomte with sparkling eyes.</p> + +<p>"Jane, before I saw you I hadn't lived," continued Spero, "but now I +know that life is worth living for, and I thank God that he allowed me +to find you."</p> + +<p>A smile of pleasure flitted across Jane's lips. She did not speak, but +Spero felt a warm pressure of the hand, and enthusiastically cried:</p> + +<p>"Jane, I love you—love you dearly; Jane, my darling, tell me only once +that you love me!"</p> + +<p>Jane looked silently at him and then buried her face in her hands, +faintly murmuring:</p> + +<p>"Yes, Spero, I love you."</p> + +<p>"Thanks, my darling, for that word, and now I will leave you. +Good-night, Jane—my Jane—oh, how I love you!"</p> + +<p>The vicomte left the room and Jane closed her tired eyes.</p> + +<p>Suddenly the heavy drapery which covered the door leading to the +corridor was thrown aside, a man's form issued therefrom, and his +sparkling eyes gazed at the two women.</p> + +<p>The man took a vial out of his pocket, and, dropping the contents on a +piece of white cloth, he held it to Jane's lips. Jane breathed fainter +and fainter—then her breathing ceased—her arms sank by her side—her +cheeks became pale as death.</p> + +<p>The man watched these terrible changes without the slightest sign of +anxiety. Bending down he wrapped her tightly in the silk cover and +carried her out of the room in his muscular arms, while Mamma Caraman +slept tightly and Spero was dreaming.</p> + +<p class="center"> * * * * *</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_305" id="Page_305">[Pg 305]</a></span></p><p>The reader will remember that Firejaws, who has died in the meantime, +once jokingly compared Fanfaro to a Newfoundland dog, as he found means +everywhere to rescue some one.</p> + +<p>Fanfaro's presence in Paris is soon explained. His wife and his two +children could not stand the Algerian climate long, and so they all came +to Paris. Monte-Cristo had begged him to keep an eye on Spero. Since the +count's departure not a day had passed but that either Fanfaro or his +faithful Bobichel watched every movement of the vicomte, and the night +the young man and the painter were walking in the Champs-Elysées, the +former clown had followed them as far as the Rue Montaigne. Bobichel +then went home.</p> + +<p>It was three o'clock when he silently opened the street door. To his +surprise Fanfaro met him as he entered, and told him that as he could +not work he thought he would take a walk. Bobichel immediately declared +that he would accompany him. It was in this way that they had rescued +Anselmo and the old woman. Fanfaro very soon found out that the old lady +was crazy. Fanfaro believed that there was some connection between the +two persons he had saved from a watery grave, and Bobichel thought so +too.</p> + +<p>The crazy woman sometimes became terribly excited. In such moments she +sprang out of the bed, and hiding behind the door silently whined:</p> + +<p>"Spare me—I am your mother!"</p> + +<p>Irene in such moments tried in vain to quiet her. When the physician +examined her, he found a blood-red scar on her bosom, which, no doubt, +came from a knife stab.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_306" id="Page_306">[Pg 306]</a></span></p><p>On the night of the third day after the rescue, Fanfaro sat at +Anselmo's bedside. Bobichel had disappeared since forty-eight hours to +make inquiries about Spero. Fanfaro heard through him that Spero had not +left the Monte-Cristo palace for three days, and could not imagine what +was the cause of it.</p> + +<p>Anselmo now began to groan. Fanfaro bent over the invalid, and thought +he heard the words:</p> + +<p>"My daughter—my poor child—ah, is she dead?"</p> + +<p>"Who is dead?" asked Fanfaro.</p> + +<p>"Ah, she plunged into the water—she is drowned," groaned Anselmo.</p> + +<p>Fanfaro could not believe his ears. Did the sick man imagine that the +gray-haired woman was his daughter?</p> + +<p>"Have you a daughter?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"Yes, my Jane—my darling."</p> + +<p>Just then the door opened, and Bobichel entered.</p> + +<p>"Well?" cried Fanfaro expectantly.</p> + +<p>"Ah, Fanfaro, a great misfortune!"</p> + +<p>"A misfortune? Does it concern the vicomte?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; he has disappeared."</p> + +<p>"But, Bobichel, why should that be a misfortune? Perhaps he went on a +short journey."</p> + +<p>"No, both Coucou and Madame Caraman maintain that his disappearance is a +misfortune."</p> + +<p>"Tell me all that has happened."</p> + +<p>"Then listen. On the evening that the vicomte came back from the +<i>soiree</i>, he did not go home directly, but first took an opportunity to +rescue a wounded girl."</p> + +<p>"A wounded girl?" repeated Fanfaro.</p> + +<p>"Yes, a young girl who had been shot in the breast. She was brought by +the vicomte to his house."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_307" id="Page_307">[Pg 307]</a></span></p><p>"I can hardly believe it," muttered Fanfaro.</p> + +<p>"Madame Caraman and Coucou are in the corridor; they will confirm my +statement."</p> + +<p>"Bring them in."</p> + +<p>The next minute the Zouave and Caraman were in the room.</p> + +<p>"The fault is mine! Ah, I will never forgive myself," cried Mamma +Caraman, wringing her hands; and then she went on and told how Spero and +Gontram had brought the wounded girl into the house, the care that had +been taken of her, and how, at the suggestion of the vicomte, she had +lain down on the sofa to rest for an hour.</p> + +<p>"When I awoke," she continued, "it was broad daylight. On going over to +the bed where the young girl lay, I found, to my surprise, that it was +empty. I went to the vicomte's room and told him the girl had +disappeared. The vicomte, without saying a word, hurried out of the +house in a state of great excitement. Twenty-four hours have passed +since then, and he has not been back since, and—"</p> + +<p>"What bothers me most," interrupted Coucou, "is the fact that the +vicomte took his pistols along."</p> + +<p>Fanfaro became pensive.</p> + +<p>"Have you any idea how the young girl was wounded?" he asked after a +pause, turning to Madame Caraman.</p> + +<p>"No, but Monsieur Sabran knows."</p> + +<p>"The painter? I shall go to him directly."</p> + +<p>"We have been to his house already, but he has not been home since this +morning."</p> + +<p>"That is bad," murmured Fanfaro. "Do you know the lady's name?"</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_308" id="Page_308">[Pg 308]</a></span></p><p>"No, but I found this note in her pocket. If it is addressed to the +young girl, then her name is Jane," said Mamma Caraman, handing Fanfaro +an elegant little note.</p> + +<p>"Dear Mademoiselle Jane," Fanfaro read, and, penetrated by a +recollection, he repeated aloud:</p> + +<p>"Jane—Mademoiselle Jane—if it is—but no—it can't be possible—"</p> + +<p>A loud cry from the invalid's couch made him pause. Anselmo had gotten +up, and, gazing at Fanfaro, stammeringly repeated:</p> + +<p>"Jane—my Jane."</p> + +<p>"Do you know the young lady?" cried Fanfaro.</p> + +<p>"Certainly. Then it wasn't she whom I rescued from the river?"</p> + +<p>"No; but for God's sake calm yourself," said Fanfaro, as he saw Anselmo +make a motion to spring out of bed.</p> + +<p>"I could have imagined that the return of that scoundrel, Benedetto, +would bring me misfortune!" cried Anselmo, with flaming eyes.</p> + +<p>"Benedetto—who speaks of Benedetto?" asked a hoarse voice.</p> + +<p>All turned in the direction from whence the words came. At the door +stood the crazy woman. When Anselmo caught sight of her, he uttered a +terrible cry.</p> + +<p>"Merciful God, where does she come from?" he groaned in terror. "Has the +grave given up its dead?"</p> + +<p>The crazy woman drew near to him, and grazed his forehead with her bony +hand. She laughed aloud, and in a heart-rending voice exclaimed:</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_309" id="Page_309">[Pg 309]</a></span></p><p>"The galley-slave—he—Toulon—the Bagnio—oh! 'tis he!"</p> + +<p>Anselmo trembled, and could not turn his eyes away from the old lady, +who now wildly called:</p> + +<p>"Benedetto! Who mentioned his name? I want to know it!"</p> + +<p>"What can this mean?" whispered Fanfaro, shuddering.</p> + +<p>"I will acknowledge everything," stammered Anselmo, and hanging his head +down he told how he had been a galley-slave at Toulon.</p> + +<p>"Who wounded you?" he then asked, turning to the crazy woman.</p> + +<p>"My son. He was called Benedetto! Ha! ha! ha! Who could have given him +that name? I do not know, for I thought the child was dead, and his +father buried him alive in the garden. Benedetto—Benedetto," she +suddenly cried, "come and kill me. I cannot live with this bleeding +wound in my heart!"</p> + +<p>Fanfaro hurried out of the room in search of his wife, and Irene's +entreaties had the effect of causing the invalid to follow her. They had +already reached the threshhold when the old lady paused, and, turning to +Fanfaro, hastily said:</p> + +<p>"He has forgiven me long ago, and will not punish me any more. God sent +him to the earth to reward and punish, and he has punished them all—all +with their own sins. Do you know him? It is the Count of Monte-Cristo!"</p> + +<p>She left the room and those who had remained behind looked confusedly at +one another.</p> + +<p>"I do not understand everything," said Anselmo,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_310" id="Page_310">[Pg 310]</a></span> faintly; "but what I +know I shall confess. Benedetto is a scoundrel and a murderer, and it +was he who stabbed his own mother, this poor crazy woman. He is at +present in Paris, where he came expressly to revenge himself upon the +Count of Monte-Cristo."</p> + +<p>"Do you know it positively?" asked Fanfaro uneasily.</p> + +<p>Anselmo then related all he knew, and only kept silent with regard to +the fact of his being Jane's father.</p> + +<p>Fanfaro listened attentively to his words, and then said:</p> + +<p>"I shall inform the Count of Monte-Cristo of this. In three days he will +be here. You, Anselmo," he added, turning to the ex-convict, "are too +weak and sick to take part in our work, but we shall keep you informed +if anything important turns up, and—"</p> + +<p>"For Heaven's sake," interrupted Anselmo, "do not leave me behind. Let +us go at once, every minute is precious! O God, if she lives no more!"</p> + +<p>"Let us hope for the best," said Fanfaro, earnestly; "forward then with +God for Monte-Cristo and his son!"</p> + +<p>"And for my Jane," muttered Anselmo to himself. "God in heaven take my +life, but save hers!"</p> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_311" id="Page_311">[Pg 311]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XL" id="CHAPTER_XL"></a>CHAPTER XL</h2> + +<h3>A CONFESSION</h3> + +<p>Gontram was in love; night and day he only thought of Carmen.</p> + +<p>"Either she or no one," he said to himself.</p> + +<p>One morning, as he was returning home from a visit, the janitor +addressed him.</p> + +<p>"Monsieur Sabran," he said, "I have something to tell you."</p> + +<p>"Well, what is it?" asked Gontram, expectantly.</p> + +<p>"H'm, Monsieur Sabran, it is about a lady," murmured the man.</p> + +<p>"A lady? Which lady?"</p> + +<p>"I do not know her, and my discretion did not permit me to ask her."</p> + +<p>Gontram, in spite of his impatience, laughed. He knew the janitor to be +the most inquisitive person in the world, and judged his discretion +accordingly.</p> + +<p>"Monsieur Alain, won't you tell me what the lady wanted of me?" asked +the painter.</p> + +<p>"The lady was elegantly dressed, and asked me whether you were at home. +When I told her you were not, she took a letter from her pocket and told +me to give it to you at once."</p> + +<p>"Where is the letter?"</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_312" id="Page_312">[Pg 312]</a></span></p><p>"Here, Monsieur Sabran," said the janitor, taking a perfumed note from +his pocket and handing it to the painter.</p> + +<p>The latter hastily tore it from his hand and went back to his residence. +In his study he threw his gloves and hat on the table, and looked at the +note from all sides. It was signed "Carmen," and ran as follows:</p> + +<blockquote><p>"<span class="smcap">Monsieur Gontram</span>—Or may I say, my dear friend—I would like to +speak to you about a matter of some importance, and beg you to +visit me this evening. I expect you at seven o'clock. Ring the +garden bell. Be punctual. It concerns the fate of those you love.</p> + +<p class="right">"<span class="smcap">Carmen</span>."</p></blockquote> + +<p>What did Carmen mean by the expression, "The fate of those you love?" +What did she know of his connections? Why should he have to go to the +back door? How came it that Carmen asked him to meet her in this +peculiar manner?</p> + +<p>Punctually at seven o'clock the painter was at the garden gate, and with +a trembling hand Gontram pulled the bell-rope and was immediately let in +by a maid.</p> + +<p>"The lady is waiting," she said.</p> + +<p>The maid opened the door of a charming boudoir and allowed Gontram to +enter. With his hat in his hand the painter stood still in the centre of +the room. The door was now opened, and Carmen, simply attired in black +silk, entered. She was pale, but extremely handsome, and Gontram looked +admiringly at her.</p> + +<p>"Thank you," she said, offering her hand to the painter. "I hardly dared +to hope you would come."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_313" id="Page_313">[Pg 313]</a></span></p><p>"You sent for me, and I have come," replied Gontram.</p> + +<p>"Please sit down and listen to me."</p> + +<p>Gontram took a seat next to Carmen.</p> + +<p>"Monsieur Gontram, do you love me?" she suddenly asked.</p> + +<p>Gontram trembled.</p> + +<p>"Mademoiselle Carmen," he earnestly said, "I will answer your question +candidly. Yes, I love you, love you warmly and tenderly, and if I have +hesitated to tell you so, it was because I did not think myself worthy +of you. I—"</p> + +<p>"Oh, keep still—keep still!"</p> + +<p>"But, Mademoiselle Carmen," said Gontram, "you know you can rely on me!"</p> + +<p>For a time they were both silent.</p> + +<p>"Listen to me," she finally said; "I hope you will not misunderstand me. +Monsieur Gontram, I know that you are a brave, honest man. When you +kissed me on the little balcony three days ago, I felt that you regarded +it as a—silent engagement?"</p> + +<p>"Yes!" cried Gontram.</p> + +<p>"And yet," said Carmen, slowly, "you postponed asking Monsieur de +Larsagny for my hand."</p> + +<p>"I did not dare—"</p> + +<p>"Thank God that you did not do it," cried Carmen, breathing more freely. +"No, Gontram, I can never—never be your wife!"</p> + +<p>Gontram sprang up.</p> + +<p>"Impossible, Carmen!" he cried, passionately. "Tell me that you are +joking!"</p> + +<p>"No, Gontram, I am not joking," said Carmen, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_314" id="Page_314">[Pg 314]</a></span>earnestly. "I can never +become your wife. Only an honest girl has the right to put her hand in +yours."</p> + +<p>"Explain yourself more clearly," said Gontram, deadly pale.</p> + +<p>"Gontram, I love you, love you tenderly, and if ever there was a pure +love, it is mine for you. Before I made your acquaintance I went +carelessly through life. Good and bad were unknown meanings to me, and I +did not know what blushing was."</p> + +<p>Carmen sank exhausted in a chair and burst into tears.</p> + +<p>"Carmen, why do you cry?"</p> + +<p>"Gontram, these tears are for me—for my lost youth—my tainted soul," +whispered Carmen. "Oh, Gontram, I am not what I appear to be. I am not +the daughter but the friend of Monsieur de Larsagny!"</p> + +<p>Gontram uttered a wild cry, and, beating his face with his hands, he +gasped for air; the shot had struck him to the heart.</p> + +<p>"Yes, it is the truth," continued Carmen; "I am the friend of an old +man. Ah, Gontram, how have I struggled with myself before I found +courage enough to inform you of this."</p> + +<p>Carmen had fallen to the floor. Clutching Gontram's knee she wept +bitterly.</p> + +<p>Gontram felt deep pity for her. He placed his hand on her hair, and +gently said:</p> + +<p>"Carmen, the confession I have just heard has shocked me very much; but, +at the same time, it has also pleased me. That you did not wish to hear +me, before you told me your story, raises you in my estimation, and let +him who is without sin cast the first stone!"</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_315" id="Page_315">[Pg 315]</a></span></p><p>"You do not curse me? Do not cast me off?" asked Carmen, in surprise.</p> + +<p>"Carmen, God knows your confession tore my heart; but, the more painful +the blow was, the more I comprehended the great extent of my love for +you."</p> + +<p>Carmen's tears still poured down. Gontram bent over her and tenderly +raised her up.</p> + +<p>"Carmen," he earnestly said, "tell me, what can I do for you?"</p> + +<p>Carmen raised her eyes, which were still full of tears, and tenderly +whispered to the young man:</p> + +<p>"How good you are! Do you love the Vicomte of Monte-Cristo?" she +suddenly asked.</p> + +<p>"I love and esteem him. But what makes you speak of the vicomte?"</p> + +<p>"Because danger threatens him, and I want you to warn him."</p> + +<p>"What is the nature of the danger?" asked Gontram.</p> + +<p>"Powerful enemies are united against him, and if we are not more prudent +they will crush both him and us."</p> + +<p>"Enemies! Who could be an enemy of Spero?"</p> + +<p>"One of the enemies is Monsieur de Larsagny!"</p> + +<p>"And the other?"</p> + +<p>"Have you noticed the Count of Vellini's secretary?"</p> + +<p>"Signor Fagiano? Yes, I know him."</p> + +<p>"Fagiano is not his real name."</p> + +<p>"Do you know it?"</p> + +<p>"Not yet, but I hope to very soon. Signor Fagiano and Monsieur Larsagny +have met before. When the Vicomte of Monte-Cristo was announced at your +<i>soiree</i> the other evening, Monsieur de Larsagny became pale as death, +his eyes stared at the young man as if he had been a <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_316" id="Page_316">[Pg 316]</a></span>spectre, and, +under pretence of seeking a cooler spot, he hurriedly left the room."</p> + +<p>"Yes, I remember," said Gontram.</p> + +<p>"As you know, shortly afterward we went out on the balcony and heard two +voices quarrelling. One of the voices said: 'Monsieur de Larsagny, take +care that you do not know my name too soon.' The next day I asked +Monsieur de Larsagny about it, but he gave me evasive replies. Just then +the visit of Signor Fagiano was announced and our conversation ended. +That day I learned nothing; but two days later, when Signor Fagiano came +again, I hid behind the drapery and listened. Don't think bad of me that +I did such a thing, but there was no other choice. As soon as the two +exchanged their first words, I saw at once they were partners in crime. +I heard the Italian say:</p> + +<p>"'I have taken the preliminary steps, and guarantee the success of the +plan. Revenge is assured for us, but I must have some more money.'</p> + +<p>"'Here is what I promised you,' replied Larsagny.</p> + +<p>"I heard the crumpling of bank-notes. For a while all was still, and +then Monsieur de Larsagny said:</p> + +<p>"'What do you intend to do now?'</p> + +<p>"'Oh, I have already struck the young fool a blow,' replied the Italian. +'She is in my power, and it will be easy for me to entrap him.'</p> + +<p>"'But be careful, the slightest haste might ruin us.'</p> + +<p>"'The Vicomte of Monte-Cristo shall suffer; he shall crawl and bend in +tortures I shall prepare for him, and my plans are so made that the law +cannot reach us.'</p> + +<p>"'Then I am satisfied. Ah, if he only suffers for one hour the tortures +his father made me undergo,' hissed Larsagny.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_317" id="Page_317">[Pg 317]</a></span></p><p>"'You shall be satisfied. I have also a debt to settle with him.'</p> + +<p>"The conversation was now carried on in such a low tone that I could not +understand what was being said. I hurried to my room and made up my mind +to draw you into my confidence."</p> + +<p>"I thank you, Carmen," cried Gontram; "Spero is a friend, a brother, and +I would gladly offer up my life to save his."</p> + +<p>"Of whom could Fagiano have spoken when he said: 'She is in my power?'" +asked Carmen.</p> + +<p>"I hardly know. God help the scoundrels if they touch a hair of his +head!" Gontram had risen. He put his arm about the young girl's waist +and gently drew her toward him.</p> + +<p>"Carmen," he whispered, tenderly, "your confession was a bitter pill for +me, but my love for you is the same as ever. Tell me once more that you +love me, too!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, Gontram, I do not deserve so much kindness," sobbed Carmen.</p> + +<p>"Now good-by," said Gontram. "You shall soon hear from me."</p> + +<p>A last kiss and they separated.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_318" id="Page_318">[Pg 318]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XLI" id="CHAPTER_XLI"></a>CHAPTER XLI</h2> + +<h3>ON THE TRAIL</h3> + +<p>Half dreaming, Gontram strode through the streets. It was ten o'clock +when the painter reached the Monte-Cristo palace. To his surprise all +was dark, and hesitatingly Gontram pulled the bell.</p> + +<p>The footman opened it. When asked if the vicomte was at home, he said he +had gone out.</p> + +<p>"Gone out? Will he soon return?" asked Gontram.</p> + +<p>"We do not know."</p> + +<p>"H'm! Can I speak to Madame Caraman?"</p> + +<p>"She is also out."</p> + +<p>"And the Zouave Coucou?"</p> + +<p>"He has gone out, too; and none of them has yet returned."</p> + +<p>Just then a carriage rolled up, and Madame Caraman and Coucou got out, +followed by Fanfaro and Anselmo.</p> + +<p>"Ah, here is Monsieur Gontram," cried Madame Caraman, joyfully, as she +caught sight of the painter.</p> + +<p>"That is what I call luck," said Fanfaro. "Monsieur Gontram, allow me to +introduce myself. My name is Fanfaro. I am an honest man, and devoted to +the Count of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_319" id="Page_319">[Pg 319]</a></span> Monte-Cristo and his son. I fear all is not right with our +friends."</p> + +<p>"Why not? What has happened?" asked Gontram.</p> + +<p>"You shall soon find out, but first let us go inside."</p> + +<p>With these words Fanfaro preceded the others and entered the vestibule. +The footman ran to him and anxiously cried:</p> + +<p>"Monsieur Fanfaro, the vicomte is not at home."</p> + +<p>"I know it."</p> + +<p>Turning to Coucou, he said:</p> + +<p>"Can you remember when the vicomte left the house?"</p> + +<p>"Last night."</p> + +<p>"About what time?"</p> + +<p>"I do not know, I was asleep."</p> + +<p>"And I too," sobbed Madame Caraman.</p> + +<p>"Coucou, please tell the footman to come here."</p> + +<p>The footman came immediately.</p> + +<p>"When did Vicomte Spero leave the house?" asked Fanfaro, turning to the +man.</p> + +<p>"I—I—do not know," stammered the footman.</p> + +<p>"You do not know when the vicomte went out?"</p> + +<p>"I—that is—well, the vicomte did leave the house, but he returned +within an hour."</p> + +<p>"Then he must be in the house?" they all repeated.</p> + +<p>"I do not know. He has not left it."</p> + +<p>"How do you know?" asked Coucou. "The vicomte might have gone out by way +of the garden."</p> + +<p>"That is not possible," declared the footman. "I locked the gate myself +yesterday while the vicomte was in his study."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_320" id="Page_320">[Pg 320]</a></span></p><p>"We must search every nook and corner," said Gontram.</p> + +<p>"We shall do so," said Fanfaro. "Anselmo can remain under Madame +Caraman's care, while Coucou can look in the garden and yard, and we in +the house."</p> + +<p>Coucou disappeared, but soon returned, accompanied by Bobichel.</p> + +<p>"I am glad you've come, Bobichel," exclaimed Fanfaro. "We have some fine +detective work to do here, and that was always your hobby."</p> + +<p>"What is it?" asked Bobichel.</p> + +<p>Fanfaro told him the whole story in a few words.</p> + +<p>In the meantime Gontram had learned from Mamma Caraman that Jane Zild +had disappeared, and the thought flashed through his mind like lightning +that Signor Fagiano's remark, which Carmen had overheard, related to +her. He told Fanfaro about it, and they both resolved to examine Jane's +room.</p> + +<p>"There must be a third exit," said Fanfaro; "both the vicomte and Jane +have disappeared without the footman's knowing anything about it. We can +begin our work now, and may God grant that we find some trail."</p> + +<p>Thereupon Fanfaro, Gontram, and Bobichel went to the room Jane had +occupied. Gontram walked in advance, and soon all three stood in the +beautifully furnished apartment. Bobichel crawled into every corner, and +raised the heavy carpet which covered the floor, to see if there were +any secret stairs. Then he got on top of Fanfaro's shoulders and knocked +at the ceiling. But all was in vain. Nothing could be discovered.</p> + +<p>Suddenly Fanfaro's eye rested on a small white spot in the blue, +decorated wall. Drawing near to the spot, he saw<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_321" id="Page_321">[Pg 321]</a></span> that a small piece of +white silk had been pressed in an almost imperceptible crack.</p> + +<p>"Bobichel, your knife," cried Fanfaro, breathlessly.</p> + +<p>"Master," said Bobichel, modestly, "there is a secret door there, and +they generally have a spring attached to them."</p> + +<p>"You are right," replied Fanfaro, "but how discover the spring?"</p> + +<p>"I think," remarked Gontram, "that the spring is under one of the small +blue buttons with which the wall is decorated. Let us search."</p> + +<p>All three began to finger the numerous buttons, and finally Bobichel +uttered a cry of triumph. He had turned a button aside and a little iron +door noiselessly swung itself on its hinges.</p> + +<p>"There is the secret way in which Jane and Spero have disappeared," +cried Gontram; "Jane has, no doubt, been abducted. The piece of white +satin in the crack must have belonged to the bed-cover, for Madame +Caraman told me the cover had disappeared at the same time as the girl. +Spero knew of this exit and probably had reasons for leaving the house +secretly. Let us go the same way, and perhaps we may find out where the +vicomte is."</p> + +<p>"So be it," cried Fanfaro, "and then, in Heaven's name, forward!"</p> + +<p>Gontram had in the meanwhile sent a note with Coucou to Carmen.</p> + +<p>Each one of the three carried a three-armed bronze lamp, and the light +they gave forth illuminated the marble steps of a staircase.</p> + +<p>Gontram was the first to reach the top stair. At the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_322" id="Page_322">[Pg 322]</a></span> same moment a +hollow noise was heard, and when the comrades turned around to find out +the cause of it, they saw that the iron door had closed behind them. +They tried in vain to open it again. It did not budge.</p> + +<p>"We cannot return," said Fanfaro finally, "therefore forward with God's +help."</p> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_323" id="Page_323">[Pg 323]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XLII" id="CHAPTER_XLII"></a>CHAPTER XLII</h2> + +<h3>THE TRAP</h3> + +<p>Madame Caraman and Coucou had not exaggerated when they said that the +vicomte's condition after Jane's disappearance was terrible. He rushed +about madly, and when he could not find the young girl a deep despair +took hold of him.</p> + +<p>The young man's love for Jane was very great, and when he saw the young +girl lying wounded, almost dying, in his arms the world faded from the +sight of his intoxicated eyes. Either he must rescue her or go under +himself. There was no third road for him.</p> + +<p>Madame Caraman's information that Jane had disappeared paralyzed him. +She must be sought for and found at any price, even though the world be +torn in pieces for it.</p> + +<p>But the world did not tear, not an atom moved on his account; and deep +night settled about Spero. One night as the vicomte was sitting in the +room Jane had occupied, buried in thought, he saw the drapery move +slowly and a part of the wall glide slowly back.</p> + +<p>In a moment he had sprung up and gone to the spot. A dark opening yawned +before him, and as he knew not what fear was, he walked into the +corridor which opened<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_324" id="Page_324">[Pg 324]</a></span> before him. Without hesitating, he walked down +the marble staircase; the door closed behind him, and he found himself +on strange ground.</p> + +<p>After Spero had gone down twenty steps he found himself on level ground. +He went further and further, and finally stood at the foot of a +staircase which led toward the left. Without taking time to consider he +ascended it and soon stood before a door—he put his hand on the knob +and it opened.</p> + +<p>A room furnished in dark red silk lay before the vicomte.</p> + +<p>On a black marble table Spero espied an open letter.</p> + +<p>The Count of Monte-Cristo had always seen to it that his house was +connected in a mysterious way with other buildings. It was only in this +way that he was enabled to play the part of a <i>deus ex machina</i>—as +Edmond Dantes, Count of Monte-Cristo and Lord Wilmore.</p> + +<p>Spero had never heard of this secret passage. Like a man in a dream he +strode toward the table, and seizing the note read the following:</p> + +<blockquote><p>"If the son of the Count of Monte-Cristo is not a coward, and +wishes to find her whom he has lost, let him go at once to +Courberode and hunt up a man named Malvernet, who lives at the +so-called Path of Thorns. Here he will find out what he wants to +know, and perhaps a little more."</p></blockquote> + +<p>There was no signature to the letter, and Spero cared very little for +that. Suddenly his glance happened to fall on a large mirror and he gave +a cry of alarm.</p> + +<p>Was the pale man with the deep blue rings about his eyes the +twenty-one-year-old son of the great count?</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_325" id="Page_325">[Pg 325]</a></span></p><p>"One would think that the few days I have been away from my father had +aged me many years," he bitterly muttered. "But no," he added, flaming +up; "the enemies of the great count shall not say that his son is not a +worthy scion! I will crush them if they touch a hair of Jane's head. My +father did not name me Spero for nothing. So long as I breathe I can +hope. I will not despair, I will conquer!"</p> + +<p>He pulled out his two pistols and examined them, and with a soft, tender +"Father, help me," he left the secret chamber.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_326" id="Page_326">[Pg 326]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XLIII" id="CHAPTER_XLIII"></a>CHAPTER XLIII</h2> + +<h3>THE PATH OF THORNS</h3> + +<p>Twenty years ago the village of Courberode looked different from what it +does to-day. It consisted of a few miserable fishermen's cabins. One +hundred feet from the beach a path filled with thorns led far into the +country. The thorns in the course of time had become impenetrable walls, +and this gave rise to the name, "The Path of Thorns."</p> + +<p>Just behind it stood an old tumble-down house. The basement of this +house consisted of a smoky room furnished with one table, two chairs and +a flickering oil lamp. A man was walking up and down the low apartment.</p> + +<p>"I wonder whether he will come," he muttered to himself.</p> + +<p>At this moment a slight noise was heard outside. A knock came at the +door.</p> + +<p>"Who's there?" asked the man roughly.</p> + +<p>"Does a man named Malvernet live here?" came back in reply.</p> + +<p>"Yes. Come right in."</p> + +<p>Spero entered, his clothes dripping wet, and blue-black hair hanging +over his forehead.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_327" id="Page_327">[Pg 327]</a></span></p><p>"My name is Malvernet," said the other sharply; "what do you wish?"</p> + +<p>"Do you know me?" he asked in a firm tone.</p> + +<p>"No, I was told to come here and await a man. I was to do as he said and +ask no questions. So I came and await your orders."</p> + +<p>"Then listen to me. My father is the Count of Monte-Cristo. I am rich, +very rich, and I can reward every service rendered me in a princely +manner."</p> + +<p>A mocking laugh came from the man's lips.</p> + +<p>"What do you mean by offering me money?" he gruffly asked. "I have not +asked you for payment yet, and perhaps it will not be in cash. Tell me +now what you want of me."</p> + +<p>"Robbers entered my house last night and robbed me of the dearest jewel +I possess—a young girl whom I love."</p> + +<p>"What's her name?"</p> + +<p>"Jane! You promised to obey my orders, and I only ask you to lead me to +Jane."</p> + +<p>"And if I refuse?"</p> + +<p>"Then I will kill you."</p> + +<p>"Ha! ha! ha!" laughed the man, "that is well said."</p> + +<p>"Do you refuse to obey me?"</p> + +<p>"I did not say that. You need me, while I can get along without you. The +game is therefore unequal."</p> + +<p>"You are right, and I beg you to forgive me."</p> + +<p>"Well then, vicomte, what do you command?"</p> + +<p>"Then you really wish to help me?"</p> + +<p>"Follow me," said Benedetto (for he was the man), as he opened a door.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_328" id="Page_328">[Pg 328]</a></span></p><p>"Anywhere," cried Spero, "if I can only find Jane again."</p> + +<p>"I will go on in advance, and follow me closely, for the night is pitch +dark and we might lose each other."</p> + +<p>Spero nodded, and they both walked out into the pouring rain. Oh, why +was the Count of Monte-Cristo far away? Why had he spared the wretch, +when the sea cast him up? Why had he prevented Bertuccio from crushing +the head of the poisonous reptile?</p> + +<p>For a time the criminal and his company walked on in silence.</p> + +<p>Suddenly it appeared to Spero as if the end of the way had been reached, +and, pausing, he asked:</p> + +<p>"Where are we?"</p> + +<p>"On the banks of the Seine; in a few minutes we will be at the place."</p> + +<p>"My poor Jane," murmured Spero, "how terrible it is to look for you in +this deserted quarter."</p> + +<p>"Are you afraid?" asked Benedetto mockingly.</p> + +<p>Spero did not answer the impudent question.</p> + +<p>"Go on," he coldly said.</p> + +<p>Benedetto turned into a narrow path. Suddenly he stopped short and said:</p> + +<p>"Here we are!"</p> + +<p>Spero looked about him! In front of him rose a tall, gloomy building, +and it appeared to him as if rough singing were going on within.</p> + +<p>"Is this really the house?" asked the vicomte, unconsciously shuddering.</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"It looks like a low den, and who guarantees me that I am not being led +into a trap?"</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_329" id="Page_329">[Pg 329]</a></span></p><p>"Vicomte of Monte-Cristo," replied Benedetto, "if I desired to murder +you I could have done so long ago."</p> + +<p>"You are right."</p> + +<p>Just then coarse laughter and the noise of a falling body came from the +inside of the house.</p> + +<p>"Let us go into the house," cried Spero excitedly. "God knows what may +be going on there."</p> + +<p>Benedetto shoved his arm under the vicomte's and opening the door said:</p> + +<p>"You will find more here than will please you."</p> + +<p>They both entered a dark corridor now, the door fell back in the lock +and Spero asked:</p> + +<p>"Where are we?"</p> + +<p>"On the spot," mockingly said Benedetto.</p> + +<p>At the same time Spero felt the arm of his companion slip from under +his, and he was alone. The room in which he was had neither windows nor +doors, and gritting his teeth the young man said:</p> + +<p>"The wretch has ensnared me in a trap."</p> + +<p>Something extraordinary happened now. The wall before him opened, and an +open space came to view. The room lighted up, and Spero saw—Jane, but, +merciful God, in what company!</p> + +<p>She formed the centre of a wild orgy; glasses rang, coarse songs and +oaths were heard from the lips of a crowd of shameless men and women who +surrounded Jane, and uttering a loud cry Spero buried his face in his +hands.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_330" id="Page_330">[Pg 330]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XLIV" id="CHAPTER_XLIV"></a>CHAPTER XLIV</h2> + +<h3>THE PASHA</h3> + +<p>As we have stated, Gontram had given a note to Coucou to deliver to +Carmen. When the Jackal reached the palace in the Rue Rivoli he stopped +in amazement. The doors were wide open and the whole front of the house +swam in light.</p> + +<p>The Zouave entered a restaurant opposite, ordered a bottle of wine, and +began a conversation with the waiter.</p> + +<p>"What is going on to-day in the Larsagny palace?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"Oh, the banker is giving a great ball," said the waiter.</p> + +<p>"He is very rich, I suppose."</p> + +<p>"Enormously so."</p> + +<p>At this moment a soldier entered the restaurant and, approaching the +waiter, asked:</p> + +<p>"Can you not tell me, good friend, where Monsieur de Larsagny lives?"</p> + +<p>"About a hundred feet away in that brilliantly illuminated house—you +cannot miss it."</p> + +<p>"Thanks," said the soldier. As he was about to turn away, a well-known +voice cried to him:</p> + +<p>"Well, Galoret, what do the dear Bedouins do now?"</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_331" id="Page_331">[Pg 331]</a></span></p><p>"Hello, Coucou—where do you hail from?" cried the soldier, joyously.</p> + +<p>"Rather tell me where you come from?"</p> + +<p>"Ah, I have been only three days in Paris."</p> + +<p>"What business have you in the Larsagny palace?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I must deliver a letter."</p> + +<p>"So must I; from whom, if I may ask?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, it is no secret. I have a Bedouin prince for a friend who +accompanied me to Paris. About two hours ago my pasha fell down the +stairs of his hotel and broke his right leg. The doctor says that it +will take six weeks for the leg to be cured. As he was invited to a ball +at the Larsagny palace to-night—"</p> + +<p>"Does he know the banker?" interrupted Coucou.</p> + +<p>"No—Mohammed Ben Omar is in Paris for the first time. As the pasha is +unable to attend the ball, I have to bring his letter of excuse, and now +I must really go on my way."</p> + +<p>Coucou pretended not to hear these last words. He gazed at a group of +men who sat at a side table, and whispered to Galoret:</p> + +<p>"Look at those fools. How they stare at you. One would think they had +never seen a Chasseur d'Afrique."</p> + +<p>"Impertinent scoundrels," growled Galoret, and, turning to the +gentlemen, he cried in an angry tone of voice:</p> + +<p>"You boobies, have you looked at my uniform long enough?"</p> + +<p>The gentlemen answered in not very polite tones. Galoret couldn't stand +this. One word led to another, and finally chairs were taken up to +settle the discussion.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_332" id="Page_332">[Pg 332]</a></span></p><p>Policemen now interfered. Galoret and two others with bloody heads were +locked up, and then only did the chasseur remember his errand.</p> + +<p>Coucou was waiting for this moment. He introduced himself to the +policemen and offered to carry the letter himself. The policemen offered +no opposition, Galoret thanked him, and Coucou satisfied his conscience +with the maxim of Loyola, that "the end justifies the means."</p> + +<p>"Now I can enter the Larsagny palace," he said to himself; "as the pasha +they will admit me."</p> + +<p>Coucou jumped into a carriage and told the coachman to drive to the Rue +de Pelletier.</p> + +<p>A quarter of an hour later a Bedouin clad all in white, whose brown +complexion and coal-black eyes betrayed his Oriental origin, left the +store of an elegant place in the Rue de Pelletier and, stepping into the +coach which stood at the door, he cried to the coachman:</p> + +<p>"Rue de Rivoli, Palais Larsagny!"</p> + +<p>The horses started off, the carriage rolled along, and the Bedouin, in +whose turban a ruby glittered, muttered to himself:</p> + +<p>"One can get through the world with cheek!"</p> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_333" id="Page_333">[Pg 333]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XLV" id="CHAPTER_XLV"></a>CHAPTER XLV</h2> + +<h3>HOW CARMEN KEEPS HER WORD</h3> + +<p>If Carmen had not hoped to serve Gontram and his friends she would have +left the Larsagny palace at once, but under existing circumstances +prudence prompted her to stay and not to repulse the banker entirely; +for she suspected that Larsagny held in his hand the threads of the +mystery which threatened the Vicomte of Monte-Cristo. Carmen did not +have much time to think, for hardly an hour after Gontram had gone, the +banker appeared in the boudoir, and looking with astonishment at her, he +said:</p> + +<p>"What does this mean, Carmen? Our guests will soon be here, and you are +not yet dressed."</p> + +<p>"Our guests?" repeated Carmen, in amazement.</p> + +<p>"Yes. Have you forgotten that the ball for which you yourself sent out +invitations ten days ago, takes place to-night?"</p> + +<p>"Really, I had forgotten all about it," stammered Carmen. "It is all the +same, though; I have a headache and shall remain in my room."</p> + +<p>"But, Carmen, what shall we do if you do not appear?"</p> + +<p>"That is not my affair," replied Carmen, laconically.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_334" id="Page_334">[Pg 334]</a></span></p><p>The banker ran his hands through his hair in despair.</p> + +<p>"Carmen, be reasonable," he implored, as he tried to take her hand.</p> + +<p>"Don't touch me," said Carmen.</p> + +<p>Larsagny bit his lips.</p> + +<p>"What have I done to you?" he groaned. "Think of the shame if the ladies +appear and find out that my daughter has retired to her room."</p> + +<p>Carmen became pensive. Perhaps it might be better if she took part in +the ball; she might hear something of interest to Gontram.</p> + +<p>"Well, if you desire it, I will appear, but under one condition," she +said, coldly.</p> + +<p>"Name it."</p> + +<p>"I demand that you shall not present me to any one as your daughter."</p> + +<p>"But what shall I say?"</p> + +<p>"Anything else. And now go, I must make my toilet."</p> + +<p>"Carmen, I have one more favor to ask of you."</p> + +<p>"Well?"</p> + +<p>"I must leave the house about twelve o'clock for one or more hours—"</p> + +<p>"He lies," thought Carmen to herself.</p> + +<p>"To do this," continued Larsagny, "I must pretend some sudden sickness. +You will have me brought to my room, and then—"</p> + +<p>"Since when are the bankers and the money-brokers at night in their +offices?" asked Carmen.</p> + +<p>"But—"</p> + +<p>"Do you mean to tell me that you have business on the Bourse at +midnight?"</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_335" id="Page_335">[Pg 335]</a></span></p><p>"Carmen, I swear to you that—"</p> + +<p>"If you imagine that you can make me your accomplice in some crime that +you are planning, you are mistaken. I will be the first one to deliver +you over to the law."</p> + +<p>Larsagny trembled, but he tried to smile, and with a hasty <i>au revoir</i> +he went away.</p> + +<p>Carmen hastily dressed herself; she didn't pay much attention to her +toilet, and went down to the parlors, where a number of guests were +already assembled.</p> + +<p class="center"> * * * * *</p> + +<p>The greatest names of the empire had been announced by the lackeys.</p> + +<p>Suddenly a murmur ran through the assembly. "Mohammed Ben Omar," the +lackey had called, and all crowded about the reception-room to see the +pasha.</p> + +<p>With genuine Oriental grandeur the pasha slowly walked toward the host. +Larsagny bowed deeply; the Bedouin answered the greeting by placing his +right hand over his heart. That ended the conversation for the present, +for Mohammed made a sign that he did not understand a word of French. +Only when he saw a remarkably handsome woman he would say:</p> + +<p>"Pretty woman."</p> + +<p>Carmen had been distinguished in this way, and Larsagny, who felt +flattered by it, tried to make the pasha comprehend that she was his +daughter.</p> + +<p>"Ah, pretty, pretty," repeated the Mussulman, and the banker, his face +lighted up with joy, said:</p> + +<p>"May I introduce her?"</p> + +<p>Mohammed nodded.</p> + +<p>Carmen bowed politely when the introduction was<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_336" id="Page_336">[Pg 336]</a></span> made, and said nothing. +Omar offered her his arm, and murmured as he pointed to some pictures.</p> + +<p>"Allah il Allah. I come from the painter Gontram. Mohammed resoul il +Allah."</p> + +<p>"The pasha evidently wishes you to show him the picture-gallery," said +Larsagny.</p> + +<p>"Then come," said the young girl to the Oriental.</p> + +<p>As soon as Omar was alone with his companion, he whispered:</p> + +<p>"Pardon me, I have to speak to you."</p> + +<p>"Who are you?" asked Carmen.</p> + +<p>"A friend, a former Zouave in the service of the Count of Monte-Cristo."</p> + +<p>"Well, what have you?"</p> + +<p>"A note from the painter Gontram."</p> + +<p>"Give it to me—quickly."</p> + +<p>Coucou drew the letter from the folds of his bernouse and gave it to the +young girl. It read as follows:</p> + +<blockquote><p>"Carmen, my friends are in danger; Jane Zild has been abducted and +Spero has disappeared. If every sign does not deceive, the banker +must know something about it. Perhaps you may be able to find out +the secret.</p> + +<p class="right">"In great haste, <br /> +<br /> +"G. S."</p></blockquote> + +<p>Carmen breathed more freely after she had read the lines.</p> + +<p>"Well?" said the Zouave, expectantly.</p> + +<p>"Go back to Monsieur Sabran and tell him I will move heaven and earth to +find out the secret. Gontram is still in the Monte-Cristo palace, is he +not?"</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_337" id="Page_337">[Pg 337]</a></span></p><p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"If I have occasion to go there will I be admitted?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>At this moment a servant rushed into the parlor and exclaimed:</p> + +<p>"Mademoiselle, Monsieur de Larsagny has suddenly become ill."</p> + +<p>"I shall come soon," said Carmen, coldly, and nodding to Coucou, she +went away.</p> + +<p>In the banker's room great confusion reigned. The master of the house +lay motionless, with closed eyes, on a divan. A physician who happened +to be present, suggested opening a vein, and Carmen stood at the +bedside, not knowing what to do.</p> + +<p>At length she consented, and while the operation was being performed, +Carmen searched all of Monsieur de Larsagny's pockets. She soon +discovered a letter, and hurried with it to her room. The note read as +follows:</p> + +<blockquote><p>"Our revenge is assured. Fanfaro, Gontram, and a former clown +determined to discover the vic.'s whereabout, and thanks to their +curiosity they have fallen into a trap in the M. C. palace. The +little one is in the house in Courb., and the son of the man +against whom we have sworn eternal hate will come too late.</p> + +<p class="right">"C."</p></blockquote> + +<p>Carmen at once understood the meaning of these lines. She knew the house +in Courbevoie spoken about, and throwing a long black cloak over her +shoulders she left the palace by the rear door.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_338" id="Page_338">[Pg 338]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XLVI" id="CHAPTER_XLVI"></a>CHAPTER XLVI</h2> + +<h3>IN COURBEVOIE</h3> + +<p>We left Spero at the moment when the walls of the room he was in opened +and presented the horrible spectacle which met his eyes. In what way had +the poor child got in such company? Benedetto, of course, had done this +dastardly act. He had drugged her after he had abducted her from +Monte-Cristo's house, and the poor girl was unable to give utterance to +a cry. She saw everything that went on about her, but was unable to say +a word. And Spero had to gaze at these terrible scenes; he could not +keep his eyes away. He tried in vain to find a means of entering the +hall. The whole scene had been arranged by Benedetto and Larsagny in a +satanic spirit. Larsagny owned the house in Courbevoie, and had often +presided at its bacchanalian revels. Carmen had not called him a master +of immorality for nothing. While Spero was beating the iron railing in +despair, the light suddenly went out and all was still. The vicomte +strained his eyes to see what was going on in the hall, and not seeing +anything, waited in the agony of fear for what was coming.</p> + +<p>In about ten minutes it became light again in the hall, and now the +young man saw Jane again, but this time she was alone.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_339" id="Page_339">[Pg 339]</a></span></p><p>Spero breathed more freely, and, beside himself, he called:</p> + +<p>"Jane! Jane! come to me!"</p> + +<p>At the rear of the hall a door opened, and Spero recognized in a man who +crossed the threshold—Monsieur de Larsagny.</p> + +<p>Larsagny drew near to Jane, and, sinking upon his knees, he pressed his +lips to the young girl's hand. Spero breathlessly followed Larsagny's +movements, and when he saw that Jane made no resistance, he became +violent. With all his strength, he threw himself against the iron +railing; it gave way, and with a cry Spero rushed upon Monsieur de +Larsagny. In a second the banker lay on the floor. Throwing his arms +about Jane, Spero cried:</p> + +<p>"Jane, my darling, do you not know me? I am—Monte-Cristo."</p> + +<p>"Monte-Cristo!" cried Larsagny, in terror, and with a gasp he fell back +dead—a stroke of apoplexy had put an end to his life.</p> + +<p>Spero did not know that he was the living picture of his father. Edmond +Dantes had just looked like that when he was arrested at Marseilles +through the intrigues of Danglars, Fernand and Villefort, and +Danglars-Larsagny had thought it was Monte-Cristo who stood before him.</p> + +<p>Jane still lay motionless in Spero's arms. The vicomte called +despairingly for help, but none came.</p> + +<p>Suddenly it occurred to him that Jane's condition was due to some +narcotic, and with a cry of joy he pulled a small crystal vial from his +breast pocket. It contained a liquid the Abbé Faria had taught Edmond +Dantes how to make. Putting the vial to Jane's lips, he poured a few +drops down her throat.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_340" id="Page_340">[Pg 340]</a></span></p><p>The effect was instantaneous. Jane uttered a deep sigh, and looked at +the young man with returning consciousness.</p> + +<p>"Spero!" she cried. "You here in this terrible place? Oh, go—go away; +you must not stay here."</p> + +<p>"Jane, I have come to take you with me."</p> + +<p>"No!—oh, no! I am accursed! I must not accompany you!" sobbed the young +girl.</p> + +<p>"What nonsense, child. You have been abducted from my house and brought +here against your will. Come with me; I will bring you away, or else die +with you!"</p> + +<p>"Not for any price," groaned Jane. "Go—leave this place, and let me +die! I cannot live any longer—the shame kills me."</p> + +<p>"Jane, do not speak so. Jane, my Jane, do you really refuse to accompany +me?"</p> + +<p>"God forgive me if I do wrong; I cannot leave you," she murmured, as she +threw herself into the young man's arms.</p> + +<p>But at this moment the coarse songs sounded again, and a man entered the +hall. It was Benedetto!</p> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_341" id="Page_341">[Pg 341]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XLVII" id="CHAPTER_XLVII"></a>CHAPTER XLVII</h2> + +<h3>THE DEVOTED</h3> + +<p>Coucou had not taken time to change his clothes when he presented +himself to Madame Caraman on his return home, and the worthy woman +uttered a cry of astonishment.</p> + +<p>"What is the meaning of this?" she asked. "I think that we have more +serious things to think of than masquerading."</p> + +<p>"Come, do not speak before you know everything," replied the Zouave; and +in a few words he told her the story of his disguise.</p> + +<p>"Where can Monsieur Sabran be?" asked Madame Caraman.</p> + +<p>"What!" exclaimed Coucou, "where is he then?"</p> + +<p>"I haven't seen him, nor Fanfaro, nor Bobichel since."</p> + +<p>"Impossible! Are they still in Jane's room?"</p> + +<p>"Perhaps."</p> + +<p>"I cannot understand it, and—"</p> + +<p>A hollow noise caused Coucou to keep silent. He and Madame Caraman +looked at each other in terror.</p> + +<p>"What can that be?" asked Madame Caraman.</p> + +<p>Before Coucou could answer the question, the noise was repeated.</p> + +<p>"The noise comes from the right side," said Coucou,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_342" id="Page_342">[Pg 342]</a></span> who had been +listening; "let us hurry to Gontram and Fanfaro, and call their +attention to it."</p> + +<p>Mamma Caraman nodded, and they both went to Jane's room.</p> + +<p>It was empty!</p> + +<p>"This is getting worse and worse," cried Coucou, anxiously. "Do you know +what I think? This room has a secret exit, and through it Jane, the +vicomte, and Gontram and his comrades have disappeared."</p> + +<p>"What are you going to do?"</p> + +<p>"Break down the house if necessary," said Coucou, beginning to trample +upon the floor.</p> + +<p>"But you are ruining the carpet!" cried Mamma Caraman.</p> + +<p>The sound of the door-bell at this minute prevented Coucou from +replying. In front of the door stood Carmen.</p> + +<p>"Thank Heaven you have come, mademoiselle."</p> + +<p>"You haven't found Gontram yet?"</p> + +<p>"No."</p> + +<p>"Monsieur Gontram and his comrades are in subterranean chambers in this +house."</p> + +<p>"Knock at the walls, Coucou," said Madame Caraman, "and then we can wait +for an answer."</p> + +<p>Coucou knocked three times with a hammer against the wall. At the end of +the second knock came back in answer twenty-five.</p> + +<p>"What does that mean?" asked Coucou, in affright.</p> + +<p>"I know," cried Carmen; "twenty-five knocks signify the letters of the +alphabet!"</p> + +<p>"Then we must answer to show that we understand the language," said +Madame Caraman. "Coucou—quick—twenty-five knocks."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_343" id="Page_343">[Pg 343]</a></span></p><p>The Zouave did as he was told, and the answer came back in one knock +which meant "yes."</p> + +<p>Nine further knocks followed.</p> + +<p>"I," said Carmen.</p> + +<p>Nineteen knocks.</p> + +<p>"S," whispered Carmen.</p> + +<p>Seven knocks.</p> + +<p>"G."</p> + +<p>Ten knocks.</p> + +<p>"J."</p> + +<p>Two knocks.</p> + +<p>"B."</p> + +<p>Twenty knocks.</p> + +<p>"T."</p> + +<p>Carmen now read the meaning of this:</p> + +<p>"There is an iron door under the wall decoration."</p> + +<p>Coucou soon found the secret door.</p> + +<p>At the end of five minutes Fanfaro, Bobichel and Gontram were again with +their friends. In a few words Carmen related what had brought her there, +and showed the letter she had taken from Larsagny.</p> + +<p>"In Courbevoie!" cried Gontram. "How shall we find Spero there?"</p> + +<p>"I know the house," said Carmen; "it belongs to the banker, and I +believe we shall find the vicomte there."</p> + +<p>"May God grant it."</p> + +<p>Ten minutes later they were all on the road to Courbevoie.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_344" id="Page_344">[Pg 344]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XLVIII" id="CHAPTER_XLVIII"></a>CHAPTER XLVIII</h2> + +<h3>UNITED IN DEATH</h3> + +<p>When Benedetto entered the hall he was neither Malvernet, Cavalcanti or +Fagiano. He was simply Benedetto.</p> + +<p>"Whoever you are," cried the vicomte, "I implore you to help me bring +this poor child out of here."</p> + +<p>"Vicomte," replied Benedetto, coldly, "I will not help you, and you'll +not bring this woman away from here."</p> + +<p>"I will shoot you down like a dog," said Spero, contemptuously.</p> + +<p>With these words he pulled out a pistol and held it toward Benedetto.</p> + +<p>"You wish to commit murder, vicomte!"</p> + +<p>"Do not speak of murder, wretch? You robbed me of my freedom, and this +poor child, whose innocence ought to be sacred to you, you—"</p> + +<p>"The poor innocent child," interrupted the ex-convict. "You told me it +was brought here against its will!"</p> + +<p>"Scoundrel, you lie!" cried Spero, angrily.</p> + +<p>Benedetto laughed coarsely.</p> + +<p>"Jane Zild," he then said, drawing back a step, "tell the Vicomte of +Monte-Cristo that you are worthy of him. Don't you remember who your +mother was, what your mother was, and where she died?"</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_345" id="Page_345">[Pg 345]</a></span></p><p>"Mercy," cried Jane, throwing herself at Benedetto's feet. "Mercy!"</p> + +<p>"Jane Zild, shall I tell the vicomte who your father was?"</p> + +<p>"My father?" stammered Jane, confused.</p> + +<p>"Yes, your father. Do you not remember a man who took care of you after +your mother died? The man was formerly a galley-slave named Anselmo. +Before that he wore the dress of a priest. Jane Zild is the daughter of +the convict of Toulon and the woman of Lyons."</p> + +<p>"Miserable scoundrel," cried Spero, "you lie! If you have weapons, let +us fight. Only one of us dare leave this room alive."</p> + +<p>"Just my idea," said Benedetto, as he took two swords from under his +cloak. "Choose, and now <i>vogue ma galere</i>."</p> + +<p>"The motto is no doubt derived from your past," said Spero.</p> + +<p>"You shall pay for that, boy," hissed Benedetto as he placed himself in +position.</p> + +<p>A hot struggle ensued, and Benedetto was finally driven against the +wall.</p> + +<p>"Wretch!" exclaimed Spero, "your life is in my hands; beg for mercy, or +I shall stab you through the heart."</p> + +<p>"I beg for mercy? Fool, you do not know what you are speaking of! I hate +you—I hate your father—take my life, or, as true as I stand here, I +shall take yours!"</p> + +<p>"Then die," replied Spero, and with a quick movement he knocked +Benedetto's sword out of his hand and made a lunge at him!</p> + +<p>But the lunge did not reach Benedetto's heart, but that of the young +girl! At the same moment a shot rang through the hall, and Jane and +Spero sank lifeless to the floor.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_346" id="Page_346">[Pg 346]</a></span></p><p>How had this horrible thing happened?</p> + +<p>At the moment Benedetto saw Spero's sword turned toward his heart, he +seized the pistol the vicomte had carelessly laid aside, and fired at +his opponent. Jane saw the wretch seize the pistol. She threw herself +into Spero's arms to save her lover, and received the death-blow from +his hand!</p> + +<p class="center"> * * * * *</p> + +<p>The moment Spero breathed his last, loud cries were heard throughout the +house, and many voices called Spero's name.</p> + +<p>Benedetto grew pale. How could he save himself? Only one way was left to +him, and he hesitated to carry it out.</p> + +<p>Hasty steps were now heard coming along the corridor. Tearing the window +open, Benedetto swung himself on the sill. He looked into the dark +waters of the Seine, and firmly muttered: "Forward! Down there is hope; +here, death!"</p> + +<p>Fanfaro, Gontram, Carmen, Bobichel and Coucou now hurried into the hall. +Benedetto looked at them with flaming eye, and mockingly cried:</p> + +<p>"You are too late! I have killed Monte-Cristo's son!"</p> + +<p>The next minute he had disappeared, and, while the waves rushed over +him, Fanfaro and Gontram rushed toward Spero's body, and Fanfaro +sobbingly exclaimed:</p> + +<p>"Too late! Too late! Oh, poor, poor father!"</p> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_347" id="Page_347">[Pg 347]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XLIX" id="CHAPTER_XLIX"></a>CHAPTER XLIX</h2> + +<h3>THE SPECTRE</h3> + +<p>Just as Benedetto had uttered the mocking words to the friends of Spero, +the form of a man appeared in the doorway. He threw one horror-stricken +look at the bodies, a second one at the ex-convict, swung himself also +on the window-sill, and plunged in after Benedetto. It was Anselmo.</p> + +<p>The water was ice-cold, but neither of them paid any attention to it. +Benedetto only thought of saving himself, and Anselmo of his revenge. +Benedetto did not know he was being pursued. Who would risk his own life +to follow him? No, it was madness to imagine so. But now he heard some +one swimming behind him. If he could reach the bushes of Nemilly he +would be safe. He did not dare turn about—he felt frightened and his +teeth chattered.</p> + +<p>At length the long-looked-for bank was seen—a few more strokes and he +would be saved. Now—now he pressed upon the sand. Dripping, trembling +with cold, he swung himself upon dry land and looked back at the dark +waters. He could see nothing: his pursuer had evidently given up the +project.</p> + +<p>Anselmo had really lost courage. He had the greatest<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_348" id="Page_348">[Pg 348]</a></span> difficulty to keep +himself afloat. Suddenly his almost paralyzed hand grasped a plank; he +clambered on it, and reached the shore with its aid. He landed about one +hundred feet away from Benedetto. Now he saw the hated wretch. But was +it a vision, a play of his excited fancy? It seemed to him as if +Benedetto were hurrying toward the water again! Behind him moved a white +shadow; it seemed to be pursuing the scoundrel, and they were both +flying toward the shore.</p> + +<p>Benedetto did not turn around. Did he fear to see the white form? Both +came toward Anselmo. Benedetto looked neither to the right nor to the +left. Now his foot touched the water. Then came a soft, trembling voice +on the still night air:</p> + +<p>"Benedetto—my son! Benedetto—wait for me!"</p> + +<p>With a cry of terror, Benedetto turned around. There stood his mother +whom he had murdered. She pressed her hand to the breast her son's steel +had penetrated. Now she stretched out her long, bony fingers toward +him—she threw her lean arm around his neck, and he could not cry out. +Slowly they both walked toward the river. They set foot on the dark +space—they sank deeper and deeper, and now—now the waves rushed over +them! Outraged nature was done penance to. The mother, whom Benedetto +had stabbed in the breast, had drawn her son with her into a watery +grave.</p> + +<p class="center"> * * * * *</p> + +<p>The next morning fishermen found the body of an unknown man in the +bushes—it was Anselmo. He had breathed his last as the sun just began +to rise—his last word was:</p> + +<p>"Jane!"</p> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_349" id="Page_349">[Pg 349]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_L" id="CHAPTER_L"></a>CHAPTER L</h2> + +<p>Deep silence reigned in the Monte-Cristo palace—the silence of death. +Everything was draped in mourning, and on a catafalque rested the bodies +of Spero and Jane.</p> + +<p>They were all dead—Danglars, Villefort, Mondego, Caderousse and +Benedetto—but Monte-Cristo was alive to close the eyes of his dearly +beloved son.</p> + +<p>Mockery of fate! The two men who watched the corpses waited with anxiety +for the moment when the Count of Monte-Cristo should enter.</p> + +<p>Before the vision of the older man rose the atrocious scenes at Uargla. +He saw Spero, a bold, brave boy, scaling the towers—he heard his firm +words, "Papa, let us die"—and felt the soft, childish arms wind about +his neck. This was Fanfaro.</p> + +<p>The other watcher was Gontram. Coucou, Bobichel and Madame Caraman were +paralyzed with grief. The Zouave would willingly have died a thousand +deaths if he only could have saved the life of his young master.</p> + +<p>The third day dawned, and Gontram and Fanfaro looked anxiously at each +other. To-day the count must come.</p> + +<p>Toward evening the door was suddenly opened.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_350" id="Page_350">[Pg 350]</a></span> Slowly, with a heavy +tread, a tall man approached the catafalque, and, sinking on his knees +beside it, hid his pale face in the folds of the burial cloth. The count +looked neither to the right nor to the left; he saw only his son. Not a +sound issued from his troubled breast; but with a cold shiver Fanfaro +and Gontram noticed that the count's black hair was slowly becoming +snow-white, and with profound pity the friends gazed upon the +grief-stricken man, who had become old in an hour.</p> + +<p>Monte-Cristo now bent over his son and clasped the dear corpse in his +powerful arms. He went slowly and noiselessly to the door. Fanfaro and +Gontram stood as if in a daze; and not until the door had closed behind +the count did they recover their self-possession. They hurried after +him, they tried to follow his track; but it was useless. The count had +disappeared together with his son's body.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_351" id="Page_351">[Pg 351]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="EPILOGUE" id="EPILOGUE"></a>EPILOGUE</h2> + +<h3>THE ABBE DANTES</h3> + +<p>Fifty years ago a solitary man stood on a lonely rock.</p> + +<p>The night was horrible! The storm drove the snow and rain into the face +of the solitary man and whipped the black hair around his temples; but +he paid no attention to this—he dug into the hard, rocky soil with +pickaxe and spade.</p> + +<p>Suddenly he uttered an ejaculation of joy. The brittle rock had revealed +its secret to him. Unexpected treasures, incalculable fortunes, lay +before his eager gaze.</p> + +<p>Then the man stood erect; he glanced wildly around him toward all the +four quarters of the globe, and cried aloud:</p> + +<p>"All you, who have kept me imprisoned for fourteen long years in a +subterranean vault into which neither sun nor moon could penetrate, who +would have condemned my body to eternal decline, and enshrouded my mind +with the night of insanity—you whose names I do not yet know, beware! I +swear to be revenged—revenged! Edmond Dantes has risen from his grave, +he has risen to chastise his torturers, and as sure as there is a God in +heaven you shall learn to know me."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_352" id="Page_352">[Pg 352]</a></span></p><p>About whom was this solitary man speaking? He did not yet know, but he +was soon to discover it.</p> + +<p>Fourteen years before, Edmond Dantes, the young sailor, was joyously +returning to the harbor of Marseilles on board the Pharaon, belonging to +Monsieur Morrel. His captain had died on the trip and he was promised +the vacant place. As soon as he had landed he hastened to his bride, the +Catalan Mercedes, to announce to her that he could now lead her to the +altar.</p> + +<p>Then he was suddenly arrested. He was accused of transmitting letters to +the Emperor Napoleon, then a prisoner on the Island of Elba.</p> + +<p>He did not deny the fact. It was his captain's dying wish. He was +ignorant of the contents of the missive, and of the one he had in his +possession given him by the captive emperor to deliver to a Monsieur +Noirtier in Paris.</p> + +<p>Monsieur Noirtier's full name was Noirtier de Villefort, and his son +Monsieur de Villefort was the deputy procureur du roi to whom Edmond +Dantes handed the letter to prove his innocence.</p> + +<p>The son suppressed the letter, in order not to be compromised by the +acts of his father, and had the young man torn from the arms of his +betrothed and incarcerated in the subterranean dungeon of the Chateau +d'If.</p> + +<p>Here he remained fourteen long years, his only companion the Abbé Faria, +who was deemed to be insane. The abbé on his deathbed intrusted to him +the secret that an enormous fortune was concealed in a grotto on the +island of Monte-Cristo in the Mediterranean Sea. Edmond Dantes escaped +from his dungeon and discovered the buried treasure.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_353" id="Page_353">[Pg 353]</a></span></p><p>He then left the island to accomplish the revenge he had sworn.</p> + +<p>He found that his father had died of starvation and that Mercedes had +married another. Who was this other one?</p> + +<p>Fernand Mondego, now the Count de Morcerf, had become the husband of the +beautiful Catalan. Formerly a simple fisherman, he had risen to become a +member of the French Chamber of Deputies.</p> + +<p>The second in whose way Edmond Dantes had stood was a man named +Danglars. An officer on board the Pharaon, he had hoped to obtain the +position of captain. Now he had become one of the principal bankers of +the capital.</p> + +<p>The third, Caderousse, an envious tailor, had allowed himself to be made +a tool of to bring to the notice of the authorities the denunciation +against the young sailor which Danglars had dictated and Mondego written +down.</p> + +<p>His worst enemy was Villefort, who had now become the procureur du roi +at Paris.</p> + +<p>Was Edmond Dantes to be blamed if he, after he had discovered all this, +took the law in his own hands and began to execute his vengeance?</p> + +<p>Danglars was his first victim. He ruined him and made him suffer the +pangs of hunger which Edmond's father had suffered.</p> + +<p>Fernand Mondego, Count de Morcerf, was the second. At first Dantes, who +now called himself the Count of Monte-Cristo, wanted to kill Fernand's +son, Albert de Morcerf, but he spared the young man for Mercedes' sake.</p> + +<p>He looked up Mondego's past history. The latter had<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_354" id="Page_354">[Pg 354]</a></span> risen to power +through crime and treachery. He had betrayed Ali Tebelen, Pasha of +Yanina, and sold the latter's wife Vassiliki and daughter Haydee into +slavery. Haydee herself denounced De Morcerf's infamy in the Chamber of +Deputies. De Morcerf, forever dishonored, and knowing the blow came from +Monte-Cristo, sought to pick a quarrel with the latter. But the count, +glancing him full in the face, said:</p> + +<p>"Look at me well, Fernand, and you will understand it all. I am Edmond +Dantes."</p> + +<p>Then De Morcerf fled, and an hour afterward blew out his brains.</p> + +<p>De Villefort's turn was next. Monte-Cristo discovered that he had buried +alive a child of Madame Danglars and himself. Bertuccio the Corsican had +saved the child and reared it to manhood. The boy had become the bandit +Benedetto.</p> + +<p>Monte-Cristo found him in the galleys at Toulon. He aided in his escape, +and Benedetto assassinated Caderousse. Tried for this murder, Benedetto +found himself confronted with his father, the procureur du roi. He +boldly announced his relationship, and de Villefort fled from the +courtroom only to find on reaching home that his wife had poisoned +herself and her son. In that moment of agony Monte-Cristo appeared +before him and told him that he was Edmond Dantes. The blow struck home. +De Villefort went mad.</p> + +<p>His work of vengeance was now accomplished. Monte-Cristo was rich and +all-powerful. He married Haydee, and they had a son, Spero. Now, alas! +Haydee was dead! Spero was dead!</p> + +<p class="center"> * * * * *</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_355" id="Page_355">[Pg 355]</a></span></p><p>It was ten years since Monte-Cristo, on that fearful night, bore off +the corpse of his only son.</p> + +<p>Again he stood alone on the rock on the island of Monte-Cristo. He had +lived on this rock for ten years. He saw no one, heard no one, except +when occasionally men came ashore for water. Then he concealed himself, +watching them and hearing their gay laughter.</p> + +<p>But the rumor that the island was haunted spread around, and the +superstitious Italians claimed that it was inhabited by a spirit whom +they called the Abbé of Monte-Cristo.</p> + +<p>All these years Monte-Cristo had lived on herbs and roots. He had sworn +never to touch money again while he lived.</p> + +<p>One night Monte-Cristo entered the subterranean cave where the marble +sarcophagus of his son was:</p> + +<p>"Spero," he earnestly said, "is it time?"</p> + +<p>A long silence ensued. Then—was it a reality?—Spero's lips appeared to +move and utter the word:</p> + +<p>"Come."</p> + +<p>"I thought so," muttered the Count. "I shall come, my child, as soon as +my affairs are settled."</p> + +<p>He took a package from his pocket, and unfolding it read it aloud:</p> + +<blockquote><p class="center">"<span class="smcap">My Last Will and Testament</span></p> + +<p>"The person who signed this paper, and who is about to die, has +been more powerful than the greatest ruler on earth. He has loved +and hated strongly. All is forgotten, all is dead to him except the +souvenir of the son who was dear to him. This man possessed +millions, but dies of hunger. He desired to domineer over every +one,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_356" id="Page_356">[Pg 356]</a></span> made a judge of himself and rewarded the just and punished +the guilty. He has no heir, but he thinks it would be wrong for him +to destroy the wealth he possesses. It is in existence, though hid +away. He bequeaths it to Providence. It will bear this paper +together with these mysterious signs.</p> + +<p>"Will the money be found?</p> + +<p>"Whoever reads this paper will do a wise act if he annihilates it. +May he who finds this paper listen and heed to the words of a dying +man.</p> + +<p class="right">"<span class="smcap">The Abbé Dantes.</span>"</p> + +<p>"February 25th, 1865."</p></blockquote> + +<p>Below this signature was a curious design. Monte-Cristo examined it.</p> + +<p>"Ah, Faria!" he exclaimed, "may your money fall into better hands than +mine!"</p> + +<p>He felt singularly feeble and laid his hand on his heart. He entered the +tomb of Spero and reclined beside him. His arms were crossed on his +breast. His eyes shut. He was dead.</p> + +<p class="center"> * * * * *</p> + +<p>All those who ever knew him never speak of him or hear his name uttered +without being deeply affected. One thing has remained a secret for them +up to this day. Where did Edmond Dantes, Count of Monte-Cristo, perish?</p> + +<p class="tbrk"> </p> + +<p class="center">THE END</p> + +<p> </p> +<hr class="full" /> +<p>***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE SON OF MONTE-CRISTO, VOLUME II (OF 2)***</p> +<p>******* This file should be named 22086-h.txt or 22086-h.zip *******</p> +<p>This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:<br /> +<a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/2/2/0/8/22086">http://www.gutenberg.org/2/2/0/8/22086</a></p> +<p>Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed.</p> + +<p>Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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