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+The Project Gutenberg eBook, The Son of Monte-Cristo, Volume II (of 2), by
+Alexandre Dumas père
+
+
+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 www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+
+
+
+Title: The Son of Monte-Cristo, Volume II (of 2)
+
+
+Author: Alexandre Dumas père
+
+
+
+Release Date: July 16, 2007  [eBook #22086]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+
+***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE SON OF MONTE-CRISTO, VOLUME II
+(OF 2)***
+
+
+E-text prepared by Juergen Lohnert, Martin Pettit, and the Project
+Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team (http://www.pgdp.net)
+
+
+
+Transcriber's Note:
+
+   Obvious typographical errors have been corrected, and
+   inconsistent spelling has been made consistent.
+
+   This volume does not have any illustrations.
+
+
+
+
+
+The Works of Alexandre Dumas in Thirty Volumes
+
+THE SON OF MONTE-CRISTO
+
+VOLUME TWO
+
+Illustrated with Drawings on Wood by
+Eminent French and American Artists
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration: Publisher's logo]
+
+New York
+P. F. Collier and Son
+MCMIV
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS
+
+
+      I. FANFARO'S ADVENTURES               3
+
+     II. THE GOLDEN SUN                     7
+
+    III. OLD AND NEW ACQUAINTANCES         16
+
+     IV. BROTHER AND SISTER                23
+
+      V. MASTER AND SERVANT                31
+
+     VI. THE PERFORMANCE                   41
+
+    VII. PIERRE LABARRE                    49
+
+   VIII. A MEETING                         59
+
+     IX. THE GRATITUDE OF A NOBLEMAN       64
+
+      X. ESCAPED                           73
+
+     XI. IN PARIS                          79
+
+    XII. THE "MARQUIS"                     92
+
+   XIII. THE PURSUIT                      113
+
+    XIV. LOUISE                           123
+
+     XV. SWINDLED                         128
+
+    XVI. MACHIAVELLI AND COMPANY          134
+
+   XVII. LOUISON                          139
+
+  XVIII. THE CANAL                        143
+
+    XIX. SPLENDOR                         147
+
+     XX. IN LEIGOUTTE                     154
+
+    XXI. EXCITED                          163
+
+   XXII. THE TRIAL                        177
+
+  XXIII. THE CRISIS                       180
+
+   XXIV. THE AUTOPSY                      192
+
+    XXV. FROM SCYLLA TO CHARYBDIS         198
+
+   XXVI. MISTAKEN                         204
+
+  XXVII. FREEDOM--BENEDETTO'S REVENGE     207
+
+ XXVIII. SPERO                            215
+
+   XXIX. FORWARD, MARCH                   221
+
+    XXX. JANE ZILD                        228
+
+   XXXI. A THUNDERBOLT                    240
+
+  XXXII. OLD ACQUAINTANCES                246
+
+ XXXIII. THE CATASTROPHE                  252
+
+  XXXIV. A SHOT                           262
+
+   XXXV. WILL SHE LIVE?                   267
+
+  XXXVI. MELOSAN'S SECRET                 271
+
+ XXXVII. CARMEN                           287
+
+XXXVIII. RECOLLECTIONS                    297
+
+  XXXIX. DISAPPEARED                      302
+
+     XL. A CONFESSION                     311
+
+    XLI. ON THE TRAIL                     318
+
+   XLII. THE TRAP                         323
+
+  XLIII. THE PATH OF THORNS               326
+
+   XLIV. THE PASHA                        330
+
+    XLV. HOW CARMEN KEEPS HER WORD        333
+
+   XLVI. IN COURBEVOIE                    338
+
+  XLVII. THE DEVOTED                      341
+
+ XLVIII. UNITED IN DEATH                  344
+
+   XLIX. THE SPECTRE                      347
+
+      L.                                  349
+
+EPILOGUE--THE ABBE DANTES                 351
+
+
+
+
+THE SON OF MONTE-CRISTO
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+FANFARO'S ADVENTURES
+
+
+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.
+
+The following is Fanfaro's narrative:
+
+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 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.
+
+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.
+
+"Quick, Margotte," said Pierre to the animal, "you know how anxiously we
+are awaited, and besides we are the bearers of good news."
+
+The animal appeared to understand the words, began to trot again at a
+smart pace, and for a time all went well.
+
+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.
+
+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:
+
+"Curious, I can discover nothing, and yet I thought I heard the clatter
+of a horse's hoofs."
+
+He mechanically put his hand in his breast-pocket and nodded his head in
+a satisfied way.
+
+"The portfolio is still in the right place," he whispered. "Forward,
+Margotte--we must get under shelter."
+
+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.
+
+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:
+
+"Courage, old boy; if it should come to the worst you will kill your
+man."
+
+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.
+
+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:
+
+"Not so quickly, bandits!"
+
+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.
+
+"Confound the Black Forest," he growled as he rode 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."
+
+The horse trotted along, and Pierre heard anew the gallop of a second
+animal. The bandit evidently desired to keep his identity unknown.
+
+"Curious," muttered Pierre, "I did not see his face, but his voice
+seemed familiar."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+THE GOLDEN SUN
+
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"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:
+
+"Well guessed, Father Schwan. Firejaws in _propria persona_."
+
+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.
+
+"Make yourself at home, my boy," said Schwan, gayly, as he filled the
+glasses.
+
+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.
+
+"Father Schwan, I must embrace you once more," said the giant after a
+pause, as he stretched out his arms.
+
+"Go ahead, but do not crush me," laughed the host.
+
+"Are you glad to see me again?"
+
+"I should say so. How are you getting along?"
+
+"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.
+
+"Has business been good?"
+
+"Oh, I am satisfied."
+
+"Where are your people?"
+
+"On their way here. The coach was too slow for me, so I left them behind
+and went on in advance."
+
+"Well, and--your wife?" asked the host, hesitatingly.
+
+The giant closed his eyes and was silent; Schwan looked down at his
+feet, and after a pause continued:
+
+"Things don't go as they should, I suppose?"
+
+"Let me tell you something," replied the giant, firmly; "if it is just
+the same to you, I would rather not talk on that subject."
+
+"Ah, really? Poor fellow! Yes, these women!"
+
+"Not so quickly, cousin--my deceased wife was a model of a woman."
+
+"True; when she died I knew you would never find another one to equal
+her."
+
+"My little Caillette is just like her."
+
+"Undoubtedly. When I saw the little one last, about six years ago, she
+was as pretty as a picture."
+
+"She is seventeen now, and still very handsome."
+
+"What are the relations between your wife and you?"
+
+"They couldn't be better; Rolla cannot bear the little one."
+
+The host nodded.
+
+"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?"
+
+"She dare not touch a hair of the child's head," hissed the giant,
+"or--"
+
+"Do not get angry; but tell me rather whether Bobichel is still with
+you?"
+
+"Of course."
+
+"And Robeckal?"
+
+"His time is about up."
+
+"That would be no harm; and the little one?"
+
+"The little one?" laughed Girdel. "Well, he is about six feet."
+
+"You do not say so! Is he still so useful?"
+
+"Cousin," said the giant, slowly, "Fanfaro is a 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."
+
+"Then you love him as much as you used to do?" laughed the host, in a
+satisfied way.
+
+"Much more if it is possible; I--"
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+Bobichel now jumped from the wagon. Girdel hurried from the house and
+cordially exclaimed:
+
+"Welcome, children; you have remained out long and are not hungry, are
+you?"
+
+"I could eat pebblestones," replied Bobichel, laughing. "Ah, there is
+Schwan too. Well, old boy, how have you been getting along?"
+
+While the host and the clown were holding a conversation, Girdel went to
+the wagon and stretched out his arms.
+
+"Jump, daughter," he laughingly said.
+
+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:
+
+"Where is Fanfaro?"
+
+"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.
+
+"Madcap, can't you stop turning?" scolded Girdel, laughingly; "go into
+the house and get your breakfast!"
+
+Caillette, Fanfaro, and Bobichel went away; Girdel turned to his wife
+and pleasantly said:
+
+"Rolla, I will now help you down."
+
+Rolla looked at him sharply, and then said in a rough, rasping voice:
+
+"Didn't I call you, Robeckal? Come and help me down!"
+
+Robeckal, who had been observing the chickens in the courtyard, slowly
+approached the wagon.
+
+"What do you want?" he asked.
+
+"Help me down," repeated Rolla.
+
+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.
+
+"Robeckal, are you coming?" cried the virago, impatiently.
+
+"What do you wish here?" asked Girdel, coolly, as Robeckal turned to
+Rolla.
+
+"What do I wish here?" replied Robeckal; "Madame Girdel has done me the
+honor to call me, and--"
+
+"And you are thinking rather long about it," interrupted Rolla, gruffly.
+
+"I am here," growled Robeckal, laying his hand upon the edge of the
+wagon.
+
+"No further!" commanded Girdel, in a threatening voice.
+
+"Ha! who is going to prevent me?"
+
+"I, wretch!" thundered Firejaws, in whose eyes a warning glance shone.
+
+"Bah! you are getting angry about nothing," said Robeckal, mockingly,
+placing his other hand on the edge of the wagon.
+
+"Strike him, Robeckal!" cried Rolla, urgingly.
+
+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 happened neither he nor Rolla knew, but immediately after he
+lay on top of the wagon, close to the Cannon Queen.
+
+"Enough of your rascality, Robeckal," said the voice of him who had
+thrown the angry man upon the wagon.
+
+"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.
+
+"Back, Rolla!" exclaimed Firejaws, hoarsely, as he laid his iron fist
+upon his wife's shoulder. Schwan came to the door and cordially said:
+
+"Where are your comrades? The soup is waiting."
+
+Robeckal hurriedly glided from the wagon, and approaching close to
+Rolla, he whispered a few words in her ear.
+
+"Let me go, Girdel," said the giantess. "Who would take such a stupid
+joke in earnest? Come, I am hungry."
+
+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.
+
+"We must make an end of it, Rolla," grumbled Robeckal.
+
+"I am satisfied. The sooner the better!"
+
+"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."
+
+"Do so. Let us go to dinner now, I am hungry."
+
+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.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+OLD AND NEW ACQUAINTANCES
+
+
+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.
+
+The man's face had a disagreeable expression. He had deep squinting
+eyes, a large mouth, a broad nose, and long, bony fingers.
+
+When the host approached the stranger he bowed and respectfully asked:
+
+"How can I serve you, sir?"
+
+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.
+
+The stranger walked into the middle of the room, and, seating himself at
+a table, said:
+
+"Bring me a glass of brandy."
+
+"I thought--I believed--" began the host.
+
+"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."
+
+"It shall be attended to," nodded Schwan, who thought the man was the
+steward of some big lord.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"Where shall I serve the gentlemen?"
+
+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 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.
+
+The host now brought the ham and eggs. As he placed them on the table,
+the carman hastily asked:
+
+"How far is it, sir, from here to Remiremont?"
+
+"To Remiremont? Ah, I see the gentlemen do not belong to the vicinity.
+To Remiremont is about two hours."
+
+"So much the better; we can get there then in the course of the
+afternoon."
+
+"That is a question," remarked Schwan.
+
+"How so? What do you mean?"
+
+"The road is very bad," he replied.
+
+"That won't be so very dangerous."
+
+"Oh, but the floods!"
+
+"What's the matter with the floods?" said the old soldier.
+
+"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."
+
+"That would be bad," exclaimed the carman, excitedly.
+
+"It would be dangerous," remarked the old soldier.
+
+"Oh, yes, sir; last year two travellers were drowned between Sainte-Ame
+and Remiremont; to tell the truth, the gentlemen looked like you!"
+
+"Thanks for the compliment!"
+
+"The gentlemen probably had no guide," said the carman.
+
+"No."
+
+"Well, we shall take a guide along; can you get one for us?"
+
+"To-morrow, but not to-day."
+
+"Why not?"
+
+"Because my people are busy; but to-morrow it can be done."
+
+In the meantime, the acrobats had finished their meal. Girdel arose,
+and, drawing close to the travellers, said:
+
+"If the gentlemen desire, they can go with us to-morrow to Remiremont."
+
+"Oh, that is a good idea," said the host gleefully; "accept, gentlemen.
+If Girdel conducts you, you can risk it without any fear."
+
+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:
+
+"Accepted, sir. We are strangers here, and would have surely lost
+ourselves. When do you expect to go?"
+
+"To-morrow morning. To-night we give a performance here, and with the
+dawn of day we start for Remiremont."
+
+"Good. Can I invite you now to join us in a glass of wine?"
+
+Girdel protested more politely than earnestly; Schwan brought a bottle
+and glasses, and the giant sat down by the strangers.
+
+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.
+
+Robeckal and Rolla now left the dining-room, while Fanfaro, Caillette
+and Bobichel still remained seated; a minute later Robeckal returned,
+and drawing near to Girdel, softly said to him:
+
+"Master."
+
+"Well?"
+
+"Do you need me?"
+
+"What for?"
+
+"To erect the booth?"
+
+"No, Fanfaro and Bobichel will attend to it."
+
+"Then good-by for the present."
+
+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.
+
+"One word, friend," he said to Robeckal.
+
+"Quick, what does it concern?"
+
+"Twenty francs for you, if you answer me properly."
+
+"Go ahead."
+
+"What is this Firejaws?"
+
+"Athlete, acrobat, wrestler--anything you please."
+
+"What is his right name?"
+
+"Girdel, Cesar Girdel."
+
+"Do you know the men with whom he just spoke?"
+
+"No."
+
+"You hate Girdel?"
+
+"Who told you so, and what is it your business?"
+
+"Ah, a great deal. If you hate him we can make a common thing of it. You
+belong to his troupe?"
+
+"Yes, for the present."
+
+"Bah, long enough to earn a few gold pieces."
+
+"What is asked of me for that?"
+
+"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."
+
+Robeckal shrugged his shoulders.
+
+"Humbug," he said, indifferently.
+
+"No, I mean it seriously."
+
+"I should like it to be done," replied Robeckal, dryly.
+
+"Here are twenty francs in advance."
+
+Robeckal stretched out his hand for the gold piece, let it fall into his
+pocket, and disappeared without a word.
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+"How goes it?" asked the carman, now softly.
+
+"Good," replied Girdel, in the same tone.
+
+"The peasants are prepared?"
+
+"Yes. The seed is ripe. They are only waiting for the order to begin to
+sow.
+
+"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?"
+
+"Yes; he did not look as if he could instil confidence into any one; I
+think he must be a lackey."
+
+"He could be a spy too; when can we speak to one another undisturbed?"
+
+"This evening after the performance, either in your room or in mine."
+
+"Let it be in yours; we can wait until the others sleep; let your door
+remain open, Girdel."
+
+"I will not fail to do so."
+
+"Then it is settled; keep mum. No one must know of our presence here."
+
+"Not even Fanfaro?"
+
+"No, not for any price."
+
+"But you do not distrust him? He is a splendid fellow--"
+
+"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."
+
+"You couldn't find a better person."
+
+"I believe it. Good-by, now, until to-night."
+
+"_Au revoir!_"
+
+"Sir," said the carman, now aloud, "we accept your proposal with thanks,
+and hope to reach Remiremont to-morrow with your help."
+
+"You shall."
+
+Girdel turned now to Fanfaro, and gayly cried:
+
+"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."
+
+"I am," replied Schwan; "hand in your petition; here is some stamped
+paper."
+
+"Fanfaro, write what is necessary," ordered Girdel; "you know I'm not
+much in that line."
+
+"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.
+
+"Flatterer," scolded Girdel. "Forward, Bobichel; bring me the work-box;
+the people will find out to-night that they will see something."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+BROTHER AND SISTER
+
+
+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 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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+Fanfaro was now done with the seats and began to 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.
+
+Fanfaro lightly swung upon the centre log and hammered in the iron hooks
+with powerful blows.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+Like an arrow the slim body shot through the air, and then Fanfaro
+sprung lightly to the ground, while the trapeze flew back.
+
+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.
+
+"How you frightened me, you wicked fellow," said the young girl, drawing
+a deep breath.
+
+"Were you really frightened, Caillette? I thought you would have got
+used to my exercises long ago."
+
+"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."
+
+"Little sister, you are needlessly alarming yourself."
+
+Caillette held down her pretty little head and the hot blood rushed to
+her velvety cheeks, while her hands nervously clutched each other.
+
+"Caillette, what ails you?" asked Fanfaro.
+
+"Oh--tell me, Fanfaro, why do you always call me 'little sister'?"
+
+"Does the expression displease you, mademoiselle?" laughingly said the
+young man; "is it the word 'little,' or the word 'sister'?"
+
+"I did not say the expression displeased me."
+
+"Should I call you my big sister?"
+
+"Why do you call me sister at all?"
+
+A cloud spread over the young man's face.
+
+"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."
+
+"But you are not my brother," persisted Caillette.
+
+"Perhaps not in the sense commonly associated with the term, but yet I
+love you like a brother. Doesn't this explanation please you?"
+
+"Yes and no. I wished--"
+
+"What would you wish?"
+
+"I had rather not say it," whispered Caillette, and hastily throwing her
+arms about Fanfaro she kissed him heartily.
+
+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 feelings to her, and Fanfaro feared that moment,
+for he--did not love her.
+
+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.
+
+"Caillette," he said, now trying to appear cheerful, "we must hurry up
+with our preparations, or the performance will begin before we are
+done."
+
+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:
+
+"Irene, what new caprice is it that brings you here, and what will the
+countess say if she hears of it?"
+
+"Madame Ursula, spare your curtain lectures," laughed the young lady;
+"and if you cannot do so, you are free to return to the castle."
+
+"God forbid," exclaimed Madame Ursula in affright.
+
+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.
+
+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 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.
+
+Fanfaro and Caillette paused at their work, and now the young girl
+exclaimed in a clear bell-like voice:
+
+"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?"
+
+"H'm--that would be difficult," said Girdel, looking about.
+
+"Of course I shall pay extra for the seats," continued the young lady.
+
+"We have only one price for the front rows," said Firejaws, simply;
+"they cost twenty sous and the rear seats ten sous."
+
+The governess sighed sorrowfully; Irene took an elegant purse from her
+pocket and pressed it in Girdel's hand.
+
+"Take the money," she said, "and do what I say."
+
+"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?"
+
+Fanfaro drew near, and the young lady with open wonder gazed at the
+beautiful youth.
+
+"What's the trouble, Papa Girdel?" he said.
+
+Before the giant could speak Irene said:
+
+"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--"
+
+"H'm!" growled Girdel.
+
+"It is impossible," said Fanfaro, coolly.
+
+"Impossible?" repeated the young lady in amazement.
+
+"But, Fanfaro," interrupted Girdel, "I should think we could do it. A
+few boards, a carpet, and the thing is done."
+
+"Perhaps, but I shall not touch a finger to it."
+
+"You refuse?" exclaimed Irene. "Why, if I may ask?"
+
+"Bravo, Fanfaro!" whispered Caillette, softly.
+
+"Will you answer my question, monsieur---- I do not know your name?"
+said Irene, impatiently.
+
+"I am called Fanfaro," remarked the young man.
+
+"Well then, Monsieur Fanfaro," began Irene, with a mocking laugh, "why
+do you refuse to lend your master a helping hand?"
+
+"His master?" replied Girdel, with flaming eyes; "excuse me,
+mademoiselle, but you have been incorrectly informed."
+
+"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?"
+
+While Fanfaro was speaking, Irene looked steadily at his handsome face.
+The governess muttered something about impertinence. When the young man
+looked up, Irene softly said:
+
+"That was a sharp lesson."
+
+"No; I merely told you my opinion."
+
+"Good. Now let me give you my answer; I will come this evening!"
+
+"I thought so," replied Fanfaro simply.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V
+
+MASTER AND SERVANT
+
+
+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.
+
+"Thank God," said Madame Ursula, "there is the carriage."
+
+An elegant equipage came in sight, and a groom led a beautiful racer by
+the bridle.
+
+"Step in, Madame Ursula," said Irene, laughing, as she vaulted into the
+saddle.
+
+"But you promised me--"
+
+"To be at the castle the same time as you," added the young lady. "And I
+shall keep my promise. Forward, Almanser!"
+
+The horse flew along like an arrow, and Madame Ursula, sighing, got into
+the carriage, which started off in the same direction.
+
+"Who is the handsome lady?" asked Bobichel.
+
+"The richest heiress in Alsace and Lorraine, Mademoiselle de Salves,"
+was the answer.
+
+"Ah, she suits me," said the clown.
+
+"Bah, she is as proud as a peacock," growled an old peasant.
+
+"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."
+
+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:
+
+"Welcome, Monsieur le Marquis; my letter arrived, then, opportunely?"
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"What does the gentleman desire?" asked the host, politely.
+
+"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.
+
+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 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:
+
+"Leave the room now, and do not enter it until I call for you."
+
+"If the gentlemen wish anything--"
+
+"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."
+
+"Neither I do," remarked Schwan.
+
+"So much the better, then you do not need to tell a lie; I advise you in
+your own interest not to say anything."
+
+The host went away and growled on the stairs:
+
+"Confound big people and their servants. I prefer guests like Girdel and
+his troupe."
+
+As soon as the door had closed behind Schwan, Simon approached the
+marquis.
+
+"We are alone, master," he said timidly.
+
+"Then speak; have you discovered Pierre Labarre's residence?"
+
+"Yes, master."
+
+"But you have not gone to see him yet?"
+
+"No, I kept within your orders."
+
+"You were right. I must daze the old scoundrel through my sudden
+appearance; I hope to get the secret from him."
+
+"Is everything better now, master?" asked Simon, after a pause.
+
+"Better? What are you thinking of?" exclaimed the marquis, angrily.
+"Every one has conspired against me, and ruin is near at hand."
+
+"But the protection of his majesty--"
+
+"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."
+
+"The king cannot have forgotten what you did for him," said Simon.
+
+"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."
+
+Simon nodded.
+
+"But the vicomte," he observed; "his majesty showers favors upon him--"
+
+"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?"
+
+"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."
+
+"So much the better. Think of it, four millions! Oh, if this should be
+lost to us!"
+
+"That will hardly be the case, Monsieur le Marquis; the marriage has
+been decided upon."
+
+"Certainly, certainly, but then--if the old countess should find out
+about our pecuniary embarrassments all would be lost. But no, I will not
+despair; Pierre Labarre must talk, and then--"
+
+"Suppose he won't? Old people are sometimes obstinate."
+
+"Have no fear, Simon, my methods have subdued many wills."
+
+"Yes, yes, you are right, sir," laughed Simon.
+
+"I can rely on you, then?"
+
+"Perfectly so, sir. If it were necessary I would pick it up with ten
+Pierres!"
+
+"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."
+
+"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."
+
+"Really? You arouse my curiosity."
+
+"My lord, Monsieur Franchet honored me with his confidence."
+
+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 Simon would make a
+good spy, Fougereuse knew very well.
+
+"Go on," he softly said, when Simon paused.
+
+"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."
+
+"And how are you going to perform the miracle?" asked the marquis,
+sceptically.
+
+"By allowing Monsieur le Marquis to take part in my projects for the
+good of the monarchy."
+
+"Speak more clearly," ordered the marquis, briefly.
+
+"Directly."
+
+Simon went close to his master, and whispered:
+
+"There exists a dangerous conspiracy against the state. People wish to
+overturn the government and depose the king."
+
+"Folly! that has been often desired."
+
+"But this time it is serious. A republican society--"
+
+"Do not speak to me about republicans!" exclaimed Fougereuse, angrily.
+
+"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
+_sauve qui peut_! 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 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."
+
+The marquis sprung up in excitement.
+
+"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.
+
+"Yes, my lord."
+
+"You would allow me to reap the profit of your discovery?"
+
+"Yes, my lord; I am in the first place a faithful servant."
+
+"Simon, let us stop this talk with turned down cards. What do you wish
+in return?"
+
+"Nothing, my lord; I depend upon your generosity."
+
+"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."
+
+"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."
+
+"I am ready; where does he live?"
+
+"At Vagney, about three hours distant."
+
+"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."
+
+"Then I shall order horses at once!"
+
+Simon went away, and the marquis remained behind thinking. No matter
+where he looked, the past, present and future were alike blue to him.
+
+The old marquis had died in 1817, and the vicomte 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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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 _jeunesse dorée_. 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:
+
+"Once for all, Jean, my son was not made to save; he is the heir of the
+Fougereuse, and must keep up his position."
+
+"But in this way we shall soon be beggars," complained the marquis.
+
+"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 from you, and if you do not force Pierre Labarre to speak you will
+have to go without it."
+
+"Then you think Pierre Labarre knows where the major part of my father's
+fortune is?" asked the marquis.
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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:
+
+"Are the horses ready?"
+
+"No, my lord; the Cure has overflowed in consequence of the heavy
+rains, and the road from here to Vagney is impassable."
+
+"Can we not reach Vagney by any other way?"
+
+"No, my lord."
+
+"Bah! the peasants exaggerate the danger so as to get increased prices
+for their services. Have you tried to get horses?"
+
+"Yes, my lord; but unfortunately no one in the village except the host
+owns any."
+
+"Then buy the host's horses."
+
+"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."
+
+"That looks almost like a conspiracy!" exclaimed the marquis.
+
+"I think so too, and if I am permitted an advice--"
+
+"Speak freely; what do you mean?"
+
+"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."
+
+"You are right," replied the marquis; "let us go."
+
+Schwan was frightened when he heard of their intention, but the marquis
+remained determined, and the two were soon on the road.
+
+"If no accident happens," growled the host to himself, "the Cure is a
+treacherous sheet of water; I wish they were already back again."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI
+
+THE PERFORMANCE
+
+
+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.
+
+"Enter, ladies and gentlemen, enter," exclaimed Bobichel, as he stood at
+the box-office and cordially greeted the crowds of people.
+
+"I wonder whether she will come?" muttered Caillette to herself.
+
+"Everything is ready," whispered Robeckal to Rolla; the Cannon Queen
+nodded and threw dark scowls at Girdel and Fanfaro.
+
+The quick gallop of a horse was now heard, and the next minute Irene de
+Salves stepped into the booth.
+
+"Really, she has come," muttered Caillette in a daze, as she pressed her
+hand to her heart and looked searchingly at Fanfaro.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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:
+
+"Thank God, she is the picture of her father."
+
+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:
+
+"Mamma gives these people money, and therefore it is all right."
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+It was a wild caprice which had induced the young girl 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:
+
+"Monsieur Fanfaro, are you satisfied with me?"
+
+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.
+
+Madame Ursula, who sat next to her pupil, moved up and down uneasily in
+her chair. Irene did not possess the least _savoir vivre_. 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?
+
+Caillette, too, had noticed the young lady address Fanfaro, and she
+became violently jealous.
+
+What business had the rich heiress with the young man, whom she was
+accustomed to look upon as her own property?
+
+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.
+
+"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 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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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 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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"Oh, Fanfaro, is he dead?" sobbed Caillette.
+
+Fanfaro was silent and bent anxiously over Girdel; Rolla, on the other
+hand, looked angrily at the young man and hissed in his ear:
+
+"Do not touch him. I will restore him myself."
+
+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:
+
+"Thank God, he lives!"
+
+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.
+
+Girdel still remained motionless; the young countess handed Fanfaro an
+elegantly carved bottle filled with smelling-salts, but even this was of
+no avail.
+
+"Wait, I know what will help him!" exclaimed Bobichel, suddenly, and
+hurrying out he returned with a bottle of strong brandy.
+
+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.
+
+"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."
+
+Rolla shuddered, and a look flew from Bobichel to Fanfaro.
+
+Robeckal now thought it proper to appear and come from behind a post. He
+said in a whining voice:
+
+"Thank God that our brave master lives. I dreaded the worst."
+
+Schwan, who was crying like a child, threw a sharp look at Robeckal, and
+Fanfaro now said:
+
+"Is there no physician in the neighborhood?"
+
+"No, there is no physician in Sainte-Ame, and Vagney is several miles
+distant."
+
+"No matter, I shall go to Vagney."
+
+"Impossible, the floods have destroyed all the roads; you risk your
+life, Fanfaro," said Schwan.
+
+"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."
+
+"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."
+
+"Monsieur Fanfaro," said Irene, advancing, "take my riding horse; it
+flies like the wind, and will carry you to Vagney in a short time."
+
+"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."
+
+No one paid any attention to her. Fanfaro swung himself into the saddle,
+and, throwing a cloak over his shoulders, he cordially said:
+
+"Mademoiselle, I thank you."
+
+"Don't mention it; I am following your advice," laughed Irene.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII
+
+PIERRE LABARRE
+
+
+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.
+
+"The danger is behind us now," said Simon.
+
+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.
+
+For a short time all was still, and Simon was about to strike again,
+when a window was opened and a voice asked:
+
+"Who is there?"
+
+The two men exchanged quick glances; Pierre Labarre was at home, and, as
+it seemed, alone.
+
+"I am the Marquis of Fougereuse," said the marquis, finally.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"Come in, vicomte," said the old man, earnestly.
+
+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:
+
+"Monsieur le Vicomte, will you please take a seat?"
+
+The marquis angrily said:
+
+"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?"
+
+Pierre Labarre stroked the white hair from his forehead with his long
+bony hand and slowly said:
+
+"I know only one Marquis of Fougereuse."
+
+"And who should bear this title if not I?" cried the marquis, angrily.
+
+"The son of the man who was murdered at Leigoutte in the year 1805,"
+replied Pierre.
+
+"Murdered?" exclaimed the marquis, mockingly: "that man fell fighting
+against the legitimate masters of the country."
+
+"Your brother, Monsieur le Vicomte, was the victim of a well-laid plan;
+those persons who were interested in his death made their preparations
+with wonderful foresight."
+
+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?
+
+"Let us not discuss that matter," he hastily said; "other matters have
+brought me here--"
+
+As Pierre remained silent, the marquis continued:
+
+"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--"
+
+"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."
+
+"You are fooling, old man," exclaimed the marquis, growing pale;
+"Jules's two children are dead."
+
+The old man crossed his arms over his breast, and, looking steadily at
+the marquis, he firmly said:
+
+"Monsieur le Vicomte, the children live."
+
+The marquis could no longer restrain himself.
+
+"You know where they are?" he excitedly exclaimed.
+
+"No, vicomte, but it cheers me to hear from your words that you yourself
+do not believe the children are dead."
+
+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.
+
+"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."
+
+"You are right," nodded the marquis; and turning to Pierre again he
+threateningly said:
+
+"Listen, Pierre Labarre; I will tell you the object of my visit. It is a
+question of the honor of the Fougereuse."
+
+A sarcastic laugh played about the old man's lips, and half muttering to
+himself, he repeated:
+
+"The honor of the Fougereuse--I am really curious to know what I shall
+hear."
+
+The marquis trembled, and, casting a timid look at Simon, he said:
+
+"Simon, leave us to ourselves."
+
+"What, Monsieur le Marquis?" asked Simon in amazement.
+
+"You should leave us alone," repeated the marquis, adding in a whisper:
+"Go, I have my reasons."
+
+"But, Monsieur le Marquis!"
+
+"Do not say anything; go!"
+
+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.
+
+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 the marquis in amazement, and quickly withdrawing his
+hand, he dryly said:
+
+"To business, vicomte."
+
+"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."
+
+Pierre held his eyes down, and even the marquis paused--he did not look
+up.
+
+"Pierre, have you no mercy?" exclaimed the nobleman, in a trembling
+voice.
+
+"Speak further, my lord," said Pierre; "I am listening."
+
+The marquis felt like stamping with his foot. He saw, however, that he
+had to control himself.
+
+"If you let me implore hopelessly to-day, Pierre," he whispered,
+gritting his teeth, "the name of Fougereuse will be eternally
+dishonored."
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+"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--"
+
+"Well, what will happen?" asked Pierre, indifferently.
+
+"Then I will not be able to keep my coat of arms, which dates from the
+Crusades, clean and spotless."
+
+"I do not understand you, vicomte. Is it only a question of your
+fortune?"
+
+"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."
+
+The old man's face showed no traces of surprise. He kept silent for a
+moment, and then asked in cold tones:
+
+"Monsieur le Vicomte, what do you wish of me?"
+
+"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--"
+
+"Go on," said Pierre, as the marquis paused.
+
+"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 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?"
+
+The marquis hesitated; Pierre rose slowly and, turning to a side wall,
+grasped the mourning cloth and shoved it aside.
+
+The nobleman wonderingly observed the old man, who now took a lamp and
+solemnly said:
+
+"Vicomte, look here!"
+
+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.
+
+"Monsieur le Vicomte, do you know what that is?" asked Pierre,
+threateningly.
+
+"No," replied the marquis.
+
+"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?"
+
+"I do not understand you," stammered the nobleman, in a trembling voice.
+
+"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!"
+
+"Silence, miserable lackey!" exclaimed the marquis, enraged, "you lie!"
+
+"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!'
+
+"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:
+
+"'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!"
+
+Pale as death, with quaking knees, the marquis leaned against the wall.
+When Pierre was silent he hissed in a low voice:
+
+"Then you refuse to help me?"
+
+"Yes, a thousand times, yes."
+
+"You persist in keeping the fortune of the Fougereuse for Jules's son,
+who has been dead a long time?"
+
+"I keep the fortune for the living."
+
+"And if he were dead, nevertheless?"
+
+Pierre suddenly looked up--suppose the murderer were to prove his
+assertion?
+
+"Would you, if Jules's son were really dead, acknowledge me as the
+heir?"
+
+"I cannot tell."
+
+"For the last time, will you speak?"
+
+"No; the will and fortune belong to the Marquis of Fougereuse, Jules's
+son."
+
+"Enough; the will is here in your house; the rest will take care of
+itself."
+
+Hereupon the marquis gave a penetrating whistle, and when Simon appeared
+his master said to him:
+
+"Take hold of this scoundrel!"
+
+"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:
+
+"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."
+
+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!"
+
+He pressed his hand to the trigger, but Pierre Labarre put his pistol
+down, and contemptuously said:
+
+"Bah! for the lackey the dog will do. Catch him, Sultan!"
+
+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.
+
+"Help, my lord marquis!" cried the steward.
+
+"Let go, Sultan," commanded Pierre.
+
+The dog shook his opponent once more and then let him loose.
+
+"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."
+
+The wretches ran as if pursued by the Furies. Pierre caressed the dog
+and then laughed softly; he was rid of his guests.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII
+
+A MEETING
+
+
+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.
+
+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--
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+Suddenly Simon paused and seized the marquis's arm.
+
+"Listen," he whispered, tremblingly, "what is that?"
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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!"
+
+Suddenly it seemed to the half-unconscious man as if he heard a human
+voice calling to him from above:
+
+"Courage--keep up."
+
+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.
+
+"Attention, I will soon be with you," cried the voice, now coming
+nearer.
+
+The marquis saw the form spring, climb, and then the water spurted up
+and the marquis lost consciousness.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"Where am I?" he faintly stammered. "The water--ah!"
+
+"You are saved," said Fanfaro, gently.
+
+The sound of the voice caused all the blood to rush to the marquis's
+heart.
+
+"Did you save me?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Who are you?"
+
+"My name is Fanfaro, and I am a member of Girdel's troupe, which is at
+present in Sainte-Ame. Can you raise yourself?"
+
+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.
+
+"Are you wounded?" asked Fanfaro, anxiously.
+
+"No, I do not think so; the water knocked me against trees and stones,
+and my limbs hurt me from that."
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+Soon the road became broader, the neighing of a horse was heard, and
+drawing a deep breath the young man stood still.
+
+"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."
+
+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 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.
+
+Had he Jules's son before him?
+
+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.
+
+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:
+
+"If the poor fellow only doesn't get hurt; he is still feeble, and the
+horse needs a competent rider."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX
+
+THE GRATITUDE OF A NOBLEMAN
+
+
+Fanfaro was hardly a hundred feet away from Sainte-Ame, when Girdel
+opened his eyes and looked about him.
+
+"What, my little Caillette is weeping!" he muttered, half-laughing.
+"Child, you probably thought I was dead?"
+
+"Oh, God be praised and thanked!" cried Caillette, springing up and
+falling upon her father's neck.
+
+Bobichel almost sprung to the ceiling, and Schwan, between laughing and
+crying, exclaimed:
+
+"What a fright you gave us, old boy. The poor fellow rode away in the
+night to get a physician, and--"
+
+"A physician? For me?" laughed Girdel. "Thank God, we are not so far
+gone."
+
+"But you were unconscious more than half an hour; we became frightened,
+and Fanfaro rode to Vagney."
+
+"He rode? On our old mare, perhaps? If he only returns," said Girdel,
+anxiously. "The water must be dangerous about Vagney."
+
+"He has a good horse; the Countess of Salves gave Fanfaro her
+thoroughbred," said Bobichel.
+
+"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."
+
+Caillette, Bobichel, Schwan and Rolla went away. In the dark corridor a
+figure passed by Rolla, and a hoarse voice said:
+
+"Well?"
+
+"All for nothing," growled Rolla; "he lives, and is as healthy as a fish
+in the water."
+
+"You don't say so," hissed Robeckal.
+
+"It was your own fault," continued the virago. "A good stab in the right
+place, and all is over; but you have no courage."
+
+"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?"
+
+"A great pile," said Rolla.
+
+"And you cannot tell me their contents?"
+
+"No; I never read them."
+
+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:
+
+"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."
+
+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; Girdel
+had guaranteed that Fanfaro would fill the mission promptly.
+
+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.
+
+While Schwan was busy with him, the sound of a horse's hoofs was heard.
+
+"Thank God, here comes Fanfaro!" exclaimed Bobichel and Caillette,
+simultaneously, and they both rushed to the door.
+
+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?
+
+"Where is Fanfaro?" asked Bobichel, anxiously.
+
+"He will soon be here," replied the marquis; "the horse ran away with
+me, and I could not hold him."
+
+"Then the brave fellow is not injured?" asked Schwan, vivaciously.
+
+"God forbid; quick, give me a glass of brandy and lead me to Girdel; I
+must speak to him at once."
+
+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.
+
+"Ah, that warms," he said, smacking his lips, "and now let us look for
+Girdel."
+
+As soon as the marquis left the room, Robeckal drew near to the steward
+and whispered:
+
+"Follow me, I must speak to you."
+
+They both went into the hall and held a conversation in low tones.
+
+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.
+
+"There he is," whispered Robeckal, "God knows how it is, but neither
+fire nor water seems to have the slightest effect on him."
+
+"We will get rid of him, never fear," said Simon, wickedly.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"Have I the honor of addressing Monsieur Girdel?" the stranger politely
+asked.
+
+"At your service; that is my name."
+
+"I am the Marquis of Fougereuse, and would like to have an interview
+with you."
+
+"Take a seat, my lord marquis, and speak," said Girdel, looking
+expectantly at his visitor.
+
+"I will not delay you long, Monsieur Girdel," the marquis began; "I know
+you have met with a misfortune--"
+
+"Oh, it was not serious," said the athlete.
+
+"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."
+
+"You don't say so? How did it happen?" cried Girdel.
+
+"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."
+
+"Ah, I understand, the young man of whom you spoke--"
+
+"Was your son, Fanfaro!"
+
+"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?"
+
+"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."
+
+"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."
+
+"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?"
+
+"Candidly, no; the atmosphere of the court has never agreed with me."
+
+"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."
+
+The marquis pronounced the word "son" in a peculiar way, but Girdel
+shook his head.
+
+"I wish Fanfaro was my son," he sighed; "I know of no better luck."
+
+"If the young man is not your son," said the marquis, "then he would
+need my assistance the more. His parents are, perhaps, poor people, and
+my fortune--"
+
+"Fanfaro has no parents any more, my lord marquis."
+
+"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."
+
+"You are mistaken, my lord; I found Fanfaro on the road."
+
+"Impossible! What singular things one hears! Where did you find the
+boy?"
+
+"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, and
+because the poor fellow had blown such fanfares upon the trumpet, we had
+called him Fanfaro."
+
+"Didn't he have any name?" asked the marquis, nervously.
+
+"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--"
+
+"What was the name of this village?" interrupted the marquis, hurriedly.
+
+"Leigoutte, my lord."
+
+The nobleman had almost uttered a cry, but he restrained himself in
+time, and Girdel did not notice his guest's terrible excitement.
+
+"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 to a regular school,
+and yet he knows a great deal. He is a genius, my lord marquis, and a
+treasure for our troupe."
+
+Cold drops of perspiration stood on the nobleman's forehead. No, there
+was no longer any doubt: Fanfaro was his brother's son!
+
+"Have you never been able to find out his family name?" he asked, after
+a pause.
+
+"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--"
+
+At this point the door was hastily opened and Fanfaro entered. He rushed
+upon Girdel and enthusiastically cried:
+
+"Thank God, Papa Girdel, that you are well again."
+
+"You rascal, you," laughed Girdel, looking proudly at the young man.
+"You have found time again to rescue some one."
+
+"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."
+
+"Don't mention it, sir," replied Fanfaro, modestly, "I have only done my
+duty."
+
+"Well I hope if you should ever need me you will let me know. The
+Marquis of Fougereuse is grateful."
+
+When the marquis went downstairs shortly afterward, he found Simon
+awaiting him.
+
+"Simon," he said, hurriedly, "do you know who Fanfaro is?"
+
+"No, my lord."
+
+"He is the son of my brother, Jules de Fougereuse."
+
+"Really?" exclaimed Simon, joyfully, "that would be splendid."
+
+"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?"
+
+"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."
+
+"So much the better; but can he be captured in such a way that there
+will be no outlet for him?"
+
+"I hope so."
+
+"Who gave you this information?" asked the marquis, after Simon had told
+him all that Robeckal had overheard.
+
+"A man called Robeckal; he is a member of Girdel's troupe."
+
+"Good."
+
+The marquis took out a note-book, wrote a few lines, and then said:
+
+"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."
+
+"My lord, I congratulate you," said Simon, respectfully.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X
+
+ESCAPED
+
+
+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.
+
+"Our score will be settled now on one board," he said, with a wink.
+
+The fat woman had looked at him with swimming eyes, and in a maudlin
+voice replied:
+
+"That--is--right--all--must--suffer--Caillette--also!"
+
+"Certainly, Caillette, too," replied Robeckal, inwardly vowing to follow
+his own ideas with respect to this last, and then he hurried after the
+steward.
+
+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:
+
+"Don't put on such airs, you tight-rope princess; what will you do when
+they take your Fanfaro away?"
+
+"Take Fanfaro away? What do you mean?" asked Caillette, frightened,
+overcoming her repulsion, and looking at Rolla.
+
+"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."
+
+Caillette, horror-stricken, listened to the virago's words. Was she
+right, and were her father and Fanfaro in danger?
+
+"I am going to sleep now," said Rolla, "and when I wake up Fanfaro and
+Girdel will have been taken care of."
+
+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.
+
+As she reached Girdel's door, a dark form, which had been crouching near
+the threshold, arose.
+
+"Who's there?" asked Caillette softly.
+
+"I, little Caillette," replied Bobichel's voice. "I am watching, because
+I do not trust Robeckal."
+
+"Oh, Bobichel, there is danger. I must waken father at once."
+
+"What is the matter?"
+
+"Go, wake father and tell him I must speak to him; do not lose a
+minute," urged Caillette.
+
+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.
+
+"What shall we do?" he asked, turning to Fanfaro.
+
+"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."
+
+"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.
+
+"No, master, he has gone."
+
+"Then forward," said the athlete firmly. "I will take Caillette on my
+horse and you two, Fanfaro and Bobichel, mount the second animal."
+
+"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?"
+
+"We must reach Paris as soon as possible," said Fanfaro. "Shall we wake
+the landlord?"
+
+"Not for any money," said Girdel; "we would only bring him into
+trouble."
+
+"You are right," replied Fanfaro; "we must not open the house door
+either, we must go by way of the window."
+
+"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?"
+
+The others remained silent, only Fanfaro said:
+
+"Her present condition is such that we cannot take her along; and,
+besides, there is no danger in store for her."
+
+Girdel scratched his head in embarrassment.
+
+"I will look after her," he finally said, and hurried out.
+
+In about two minutes he returned.
+
+"She is sleeping like a log," he said; "we must leave her here. Schwan
+will take care of her."
+
+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.
+
+"Let the clothes hang," ordered Girdel.
+
+They all crept softly to the stable and in about five minutes were on
+the street.
+
+Bobichel ran alongside Girdel. Suddenly he stopped and hurriedly said:
+
+"I hear the sound of horses' hoofs; we escaped just in time."
+
+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.
+
+"Open in the name of the king," cried the brigadier impatiently.
+
+"Policemen, oh my God!" groaned Schwan, more dead than alive. "There
+must be a mistake here."
+
+"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."
+
+"Whom shall I deliver?" asked Schwan, terror-stricken.
+
+"Two acrobats, named Girdel and Fanfaro," was the answer.
+
+"Girdel and Fanfaro? Oh, Mr. Brigadier, you are mistaken. What are they
+accused of?"
+
+"Treason! They are members of a secret organization, which is directed
+against the monarchy."
+
+"Impossible; it cannot be!" groaned Schwan.
+
+"I will conduct the gentlemen," said Robeckal, coming forward.
+
+"Scoundrel!" muttered the host, while Robeckal preceded the policemen up
+the stairs, and pointed to Girdel's room.
+
+"Open!" cried the brigadier, knocking at the door with the hilt of his
+sword.
+
+As no answer came, he burst open the door, and then uttered an oath.
+
+"Confound them--they have fled!" exclaimed Robeckal.
+
+"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."
+
+"You are right," growled Robeckal; "but they cannot be very far off
+yet."
+
+"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 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.
+
+"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."
+
+"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.
+
+"Villain!" exclaimed Robeckal, angrily, and taking a gun from one of the
+policemen he fired a shot at Bobichel.
+
+Did the shot take effect?
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI
+
+IN PARIS
+
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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:
+
+"The carnival is coming to an end; it's a great pity--we had such fun."
+
+"Fernando, are you getting melancholy?" laughed the second young man.
+
+"Fernando is right," remarked the third; "the last day of the carnival
+is so dull and spiritless that one can 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?"
+
+"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."
+
+"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.
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+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 acquainted with everything that went on in the great
+world.
+
+"Where is Frederic?" asked Arthur now.
+
+"Really, he seems to have forgotten us," replied Fernando, "I cannot
+understand what delays him so long."
+
+"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."
+
+"Poor fellow!"
+
+"He is not to be pitied. The Countess of Salves is a charming girl."
+
+"Bah, she is going to become his wife."
+
+"So much the more reason that he should love her before the marriage;
+afterward, it isn't considered good form to have such feelings."
+
+"He loves her, then?"
+
+"I am very grateful to you, gentlemen; even in my absence you occupy
+yourselves with my affairs," said a clear, sharp voice now.
+
+"Frederic, at last; where have you been?"
+
+"Oh, I have been standing over five minutes behind you, and heard your
+conversation."
+
+"Has it insulted you?" asked Gaston, laughing.
+
+Frederic did not answer immediately; he let his gaze fall pityingly over
+his companion, and Gaston hastily said:
+
+"Really, Frederic, your splendor throws us in the shade; look at him, he
+has no mask, and is dressed after the latest fashion."
+
+The costume of the last comer was, indeed, much more elegant than those
+of the other young men. A 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.
+
+Frederic allowed himself to be admired by his friends, and then said:
+
+"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."
+
+"Frederic is right," said Gaston, "let us hurry to do so."
+
+"I shall await you here and bring you then to Robert; or better still,
+you can meet me at the Cafe Valois."
+
+The three masks left, and the Vicomte Talizac, for he was the last
+comer, remained alone.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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:
+
+"Sir, can I see you for a moment?"
+
+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:
+
+"I am at your service, sir."
+
+The vicomte walked toward the street and the man followed. On a deserted
+corner they both stopped, and the vicomte began:
+
+"Monsieur, first I must ask you to tell me your name; I am the Vicomte
+de Talizac."
+
+"I know it," replied the young man coldly.
+
+"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."
+
+The young man grew pale but he replied with indomitable courage:
+
+"I don't know what we two could ever have in common."
+
+"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."
+
+"Well, what else?"
+
+"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--"
+
+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:
+
+"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."
+
+"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."
+
+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:
+
+"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 companions, and take your presence out of the society of
+respectable people."
+
+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:
+
+"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.
+
+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:
+
+"You are punctual, vicomte; your friends can vouch for that."
+
+The vicomte kept silent, and Fernando, lowering his voice, continued:
+
+"What was the difficulty between you and the young man? You wanted to
+kill him. Are you acquainted with him?"
+
+"No, I hardly know him; you overheard us?"
+
+"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!"
+
+The words, and the tone in which they had been said, wounded Talizac's
+self-love, and he sharply replied:
+
+"If it pleases me, Signor Velletri!"
+
+The Italian laughed, and then said, in an indifferent tone:
+
+"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."
+
+"What do you mean, signor?"
+
+"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!"
+
+The vicomte grew pale, and he mechanically clinched his fist.
+
+"How--do--you--know--this?" he finally stammered.
+
+The Italian drew an elegant portfolio from his pocket, and took a piece
+of stamped paper from it.
+
+"Here is the _corpus delicti_," he said, laughing.
+
+"But how did it get into your hands?"
+
+"Oh, in a very simple way: I bought and paid for it."
+
+"You, signor? For what purpose?"
+
+"Could it not be for the purpose of doing you a service?"
+
+The vicomte shrugged his shoulders; he had no faith in his fellow-men.
+
+"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 and acknowledge that this small
+reciprocation is worth the favor I am showing you."
+
+"Then you will return the paper to me?" cried the vicomte, stretching
+out his hand for it.
+
+"No, the paper does not belong to me."
+
+"But you just said--"
+
+"That I bought it, certainly. I paid the price for it only because I
+received the amount from several friends."
+
+"And these friends--"
+
+"Are the defenders and supporters of the monarchy; they will not harm
+you."
+
+Talizac became pensive.
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+"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 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?"
+
+"No," replied Velletri, calmly.
+
+"None at all. She turned her back to me."
+
+"Impossible," observed the Italian, laughing; "well, I suspect that the
+knight without fear or reproach followed up the thing?"
+
+"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?"
+
+"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."
+
+"Then you know the man? I sent my servant after 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."
+
+"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."
+
+"And the means?"
+
+"Simply tell her the name of her admirer."
+
+"Yes; but he didn't mention his name to me."
+
+"That does not surprise me. He was formerly an acrobat, and his name is
+Fanfaro."
+
+The vicomte laughed boisterously. Fanfaro, a former acrobat, ran after
+young, noble ladies--it was too comical!
+
+"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."
+
+The Italian, who had witnessed the scene in which Fanfaro had refused to
+cross weapons with a Talizac, laughed maliciously.
+
+"The companions of the former acrobat are, no doubt, ignorant of whom
+they are dealing with?" asked Talizac.
+
+"On the contrary, they know him well."
+
+"I don't understand it! They speak to him, shake hands with him; it is
+extraordinary."
+
+The vicomte's stupidity excited the Italian's pity, but he did not allow
+his feelings to be perceived, and said:
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+They had not gone far when the vicomte paused and nudged his friend.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"You are alone to-day?" he boldly asked.
+
+The young girl trembled from head to foot and walked on. The vicomte
+gazed after her, and the Italian laughingly observed:
+
+"The 'Marquise' is very strict to-day."
+
+Thereupon he bent down and picked something up from the ground.
+
+"Here, vicomte, is your money; the little one threw it away."
+
+The vicomte uttered a cry of rage.
+
+"The impertinent hussy!" he hissed.
+
+"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."
+
+"Fernando, I really believe you play the spy upon me!" exclaimed
+Talizac; "have a care, my patience has its limits."
+
+"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."
+
+"Velletri, you are right," replied Talizac; "yes, I will revenge myself
+upon Fanfaro and possess this girl. What am I peer of France for?"
+
+"Bravo, vicomte, you please me now--let us go to dinner, and then--"
+
+"But the 'Marquise'?"
+
+"Have patience. You will be satisfied with me."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII
+
+THE "MARQUISE."
+
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"Louison--little Louison!"
+
+"The poor thing--she has woke up," sighed the girl as she approached the
+small bed which stood in the equally small space.
+
+"Mamma, how goes it?" she asked.
+
+The form which lay on the bed looked almost 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.
+
+"Thirst, Louison," stammered the woman, pulling her long gray hair over
+her eyes.
+
+"There, mamma, drink," said Louison, bending tenderly over the poor
+woman.
+
+The woman drank eagerly the glass of milk offered, and then muttered
+softly to herself.
+
+"It is so warm, I am burning, everywhere there are flames."
+
+The poor woman was crazy, and no one would have ever recognized in her,
+Louise, the wife of the landlord Jules Fougeres.
+
+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.
+
+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
+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.
+
+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."
+
+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.
+
+The nuns of the neighboring convent took the child, taught it what they
+knew themselves, and a few years passed peacefully for Louison.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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 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.
+
+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.
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+The sobriquet of the "Marquise" had been given to 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.
+
+As the old woman handed the empty glass back to the girl, Louison
+cheerfully said:
+
+"Mother, I must go out; promise me that you will be good during my
+absence."
+
+"Good," repeated the maniac.
+
+"Then you can put on your new cap to-morrow."
+
+"The one with the ribbons?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Oh, then I will be good."
+
+The poor thing clapped her hands, but suddenly she uttered a cry of
+pain.
+
+"Ah!--my head--it is burning!"
+
+Louison, with heavenly patience, caressed her gray hair and calmed her.
+
+"Ah! where is the box?" the maniac complained after a while.
+
+"To-morrow I will bring it to you," said the songstress, who knew the
+whims of the sick woman.
+
+"Do not forget it," said the old woman; "in that box is luck. Oh, where
+did I put it?"
+
+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:
+
+"Who is there?"
+
+"A friend," came back in a loud voice.
+
+"Your name?"
+
+"You do not know me."
+
+"Tell me your name."
+
+"Robeckal; please admit me."
+
+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?
+
+"Well, are you going to open?" cried Robeckal, becoming impatient.
+
+Hesitatingly Louison pushed back the bolt, and with a sigh of relief she
+saw Robeckal's face; no, that was not the vicomte.
+
+"H'm, mademoiselle, you thought perhaps that I was a beggar?" asked
+Robeckal, mockingly.
+
+"Please tell me quickly what you want," cried Louison, hurriedly. "I
+must go out, and have no time to lose."
+
+"You might offer me a chair, anyway," growled Robeckal, looking steadily
+at the handsome girl.
+
+"I told you before I am in a hurry," replied Louison, coldly; "therefore
+please do not delay me unnecessarily."
+
+Robeckal saw that the best thing he could do would be to come to the
+point at once, and grinning maliciously, he said:
+
+"Mademoiselle, would you like to earn some money?"
+
+"That depends--go on."
+
+"Let me first speak about myself. I am an extra waiter. Do you know what
+that is?"
+
+"Yes, you assist in saloons on Sundays and holidays."
+
+"Right. For the past three days I have been at The Golden Calf, just in
+the street above."
+
+"Ah, by Monsieur Aube?"
+
+"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!'
+
+"'The "Marquise," master,' I replied.
+
+"'But will she come?'
+
+"'H'm, we must ask her. How much do you intend to spend?'
+
+"'Twenty francs.'
+
+"'Good,' I said, 'I will ask her,' and here I am."
+
+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 _protégée_ with it.
+
+"Did not Monsieur Aube give you a letter for me?" she asked, still
+hesitating.
+
+"No, mademoiselle. Do you mistrust me?"
+
+"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."
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+"I shall come," she said firmly; "when shall I make my appearance?"
+
+"At eight o'clock."
+
+"And when will I be done?"
+
+A peculiar smile, unnoticed by Louison, played about Robeckal's lips.
+
+"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."
+
+"No, but it must not be later than midnight."
+
+"On no account, mademoiselle; if you are afraid, why, I will see you
+home," Robeckal gallantly cried.
+
+"Good--tell Monsieur Aube I shall be punctual."
+
+"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."
+
+"With pleasure."
+
+"Then good-by until this evening."
+
+Robeckal hurried down the five flights of stairs. In front of the house
+a man enveloped in a wide mantle walked up and down.
+
+When he saw Robeckal, he anxiously asked:
+
+"Well?"
+
+"It is settled."
+
+"Really? Will she come?"
+
+"Certainly."
+
+The man in the cloak, who was no other than Fernando de Velletri, let
+some gold pieces slip into Robeckal's hand.
+
+"If everything goes all right, you will get five hundred francs more,"
+he cried.
+
+"It is as good as if I had the money already in my pocket. Besides, the
+racket is rather cheap, for the little one is a picture."
+
+"So much the better," laughed the Italian.
+
+While the worthy pair were discussing their plans, Louison went as usual
+to the boulevards and sang her pretty songs.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+These visitors, strange to say, looked very respectable; most of them
+appeared to be old soldiers. They certainly had no need to learn magic.
+
+The large hall was filled to the last seat, and the waiters ran here and
+there with dishes, when an elegant equipage drove up and immediately
+afterward the stentorian voice of the landlord cried:
+
+"Jean, the gentlemen who have ordered room No. 11 have arrived. Conduct
+them upstairs."
+
+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.
+
+"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?"
+
+The waiter threw an angry look at Arthur, who had dared to call the
+Golden Calf a hole.
+
+"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."
+
+Jean hastily drew back, and only the thought of losing his tip prevailed
+upon him to serve his customers.
+
+"Now we are alone," said Arthur, "and we'll finally find out all about
+it--"
+
+"I must beg your pardon once more," interrupted the vicomte, "but before
+dessert I never bother about serious affairs."
+
+"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:
+
+"Champagne, bring champagne!"
+
+"Well, I must say that you end the Carnival in a worthy way," laughed
+Velletri.
+
+"Bah! I must drown my troubles in champagne," replied the vicomte,
+shrugging his shoulders. "I tell you, my friends, I had a conversation
+with my father to-day which made me wild."
+
+"Ah, it was about your marriage, no doubt!" said the Italian.
+
+"Yes. The marquis wants me to go to the altar in fourteen days. That
+would be a fine thing."
+
+"But I thought the marriage was a good one for both sides; the fortune
+of the Salves--"
+
+"Oh, bother with the fortune!" interrupted the vicomte.
+
+"And, besides, the young countess is very beautiful," continued Arthur.
+
+"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--"
+
+"Frederic," interrupted Velletri, warningly; he feared that the vicomte
+would inform young Montferrand what had occurred between his bride and
+the acrobat.
+
+"Well," said Arthur, hastily, "I hope that when Irene de Salves becomes
+your bride you will be more pleasant to her."
+
+"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."
+
+"Perhaps I shall make use of the permission," laughed Arthur,
+carelessly.
+
+"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!"
+
+"That is unselfish," said the Italian; "not every one is so liberal with
+his wife."
+
+"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--"
+
+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.
+
+"What a pity," he said, "that one cannot hear this nightingale nearer."
+
+"Why should not that be possible?" cried the vicomte, springing up as if
+electrified.
+
+Fernando grew frightened. This idea might disturb his plan.
+
+"What is there in a street-singer?" he contemptuously asked.
+
+Talizac, however, who was under the influence of the champagne he had
+drunk, did not understand the hint, and angrily exclaimed:
+
+"Now she shall just come upstairs; first she must sing to us, and
+then--"
+
+"And then?" repeated Arthur curiously.
+
+"Ah, it is merely a little surprise we arranged for the little one,"
+observed Velletri, with a cynical laugh.
+
+"What! a surprise?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"And she does not suspect anything?"
+
+"Nothing."
+
+"Well, I am curious to see the little one; let us call Aube, he can show
+his singer to us."
+
+"Gentlemen, no folly," warned Velletri, "we are not in the Palais Royal
+here, and in some things the mob does not see any fun."
+
+"I will attend to the people downstairs," said Arthur, while the vicomte
+rang loudly.
+
+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.
+
+"Monsieur Aube," began the vicomte, "who is the little bird that sings
+so beautifully downstairs?"
+
+"A young, modest, and very respectable girl, gentlemen."
+
+The young men burst into loud laughter.
+
+"A saint, then?" exclaimed Arthur.
+
+"Really, gentlemen, she is very virtuous and respectable."
+
+"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."
+
+Monsieur Aube did not know what to do.
+
+"What are you waiting for?" asked the vicomte, in a maudlin voice.
+
+"Gentlemen, the little one is so pure," said the landlord, earnestly.
+
+"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?"
+
+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 _protégée_. Even if the other
+two were drunk, the Italian was sober; and so the host finally said:
+
+"I will send the little one."
+
+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.
+
+"Louison," he softly said, "I have got a good business to propose to
+you."
+
+"What is it, Father Aube?"
+
+The landlord, somewhat embarrassed, stammeringly answered:
+
+"If you desire you can make one hundred francs in fifteen minutes."
+
+"So much? You are joking?"
+
+"Not at all; you sing two or three songs, and the money is earned."
+
+"Where shall I sing?"
+
+"Here in my house, on the first story."
+
+At this minute the hall-door opened and loud laughter came from above.
+Louison looked anxiously at the host and asked:
+
+"Who wants to hear me?"
+
+"Some guests, Louison; high-toned guests."
+
+"Are they ladies and gentlemen, or only gentlemen?"
+
+"Gentlemen, jolly young gentlemen."
+
+"And if I go up will you stay in the neighborhood?"
+
+"Certainly; this house is my house, and you are under my protection."
+
+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--
+
+"I agree," she said, picking up her guitar; "when shall I go up?"
+
+"Directly, Louison, I will accompany you."
+
+"H'm, what does that mean?" exclaimed a solid-looking citizen as he saw
+Louison go up the stairs; "is the performance over?"
+
+"No," said Aube to his guests, "Louison will sing more later on. Have a
+little patience."
+
+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.
+
+"'Marquise,' will you be so kind as to sing us a song?" asked Arthur,
+politely.
+
+Louison's modesty began to have a good influence on him, and he already
+regretted having assisted Talizac in his plan.
+
+Louison tuned her instrument and then began to sing a pretty little air.
+Montferrand and Velletri listened 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.
+
+"Continue your song, my pretty child," giggled the vicomte; "I hope I
+have not frightened you?"
+
+As he said this he tried to put his arm around Louison's waist.
+
+She recoiled as if stung by a rattlesnake.
+
+"I will not sing any more," she said firmly; "let me go."
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+"Miserable cowards!" she contemptuously exclaimed. "Will you permit a
+drunken scoundrel to insult a defenceless girl?"
+
+Arthur sprang up. A flash of shame was on his classically formed
+features, and turning to Talizac he hastily said:
+
+"She is right, vicomte; are you not ashamed?"
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"Help! murder!" cried Louison in desperation. She did not think of
+escape. She hoped Aube would make his appearance.
+
+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.
+
+"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!"
+
+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, 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.
+
+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.
+
+"Merciful God!" he despairingly cried, "where is the poor child? I
+promised her I would protect her, and now--"
+
+"The scoundrels have abducted her!" exclaimed Arthur, who had in the
+meantime recovered. "It was a shrewdly planned piece of business."
+
+"Abducted her? Impossible!" cried the landlord, looking at Arthur in
+amazement. "Who are the men?"
+
+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:
+
+"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."
+
+"Who speaks of Talizac and Fougereuse?" cried a fresh voice, and a very
+handsome man approached Monsieur Aube.
+
+"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!"
+
+"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."
+
+"May God reward you, Monsieur Fanfaro; oh, if it is only not too late."
+
+"Monsieur Aube," asked Fanfaro, politely, "what is the matter?"
+
+"A young girl--it will bring me to my grave when I think that such a
+thing should happen in my house--I--"
+
+"Landlord," interrupted Arthur, "let me tell the story to the gentleman.
+
+"Unfortunately," continued Montferrand, turning to Fanfaro, "I am mixed
+up in the affair myself. I let myself be persuaded by the Vicomte de
+Talizac--"
+
+"I thought so," growled Fanfaro.
+
+"And his friend Velletri to accompany them here--"
+
+"Velletri? The Italian spy? The tool of the Jesuits, who treacherously
+betrayed his own countrymen, the Carbonari?" asked Fanfaro,
+contemptuously.
+
+"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."
+
+"The scoundrels! Where have they carried the poor child to?"
+
+"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 the affair, and inwardly vowing never again to have anything to do
+with the scoundrels who bear noble names.
+
+"But the girl, no doubt, has relatives, parents or friends, who will
+follow her traces?"
+
+"No," replied Aube, "she is an orphan, and is called the 'Marquise.'"
+
+"Why has she received that sobriquet?"
+
+"I do not know. She is a very respectable girl."
+
+"Where does she live?"
+
+"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."
+
+"If Robeckal had a hand in the affair then it can only be a scoundrelly
+one!" exclaimed Fanfaro, with a frown.
+
+"Do you know him?"
+
+"Unfortunately, yes; tell me what more do you know?"
+
+"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--"
+
+"Louison?" cried Fanfaro, in affright.
+
+"Yes; why, what is the matter with you?"
+
+"Nothing; tell me how old is the girl?"
+
+"About sixteen."
+
+"My God, that would just be right; but no, it cannot be."
+
+"Monsieur Fanfaro," said Montferrand, gently, "can I do anything for
+you, you seem to be in trouble?"
+
+"Oh, I have a horrible suspicion, I cannot explain it to you now, but
+the age and the name agree. Ah, that infamous Talizac! again and again
+he crosses my path; but if I catch him now, I will stamp upon him like a
+worm!"
+
+"Do you intend to follow the robbers?"
+
+"Certainly, I must rescue the girl."
+
+"Monsieur Fanfaro," said Montferrand, "do with me what you will, I will
+help you!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII
+
+THE PURSUIT
+
+
+Fanfaro looked gratefully at the young nobleman and then said:
+
+"Please tell me your name, so that I may know whom I am under
+obligations to?"
+
+"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.
+
+Fanfaro bowed and then hurriedly said:
+
+"Let us not lose any more time; I--"
+
+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:
+
+"Open in the name of the law!"
+
+Fanfaro trembled.
+
+"The police!" exclaimed Aube, breathing more freely; "perhaps the
+robbers have already been captured."
+
+Fanfaro laid his hand upon Aube's shoulder.
+
+"Monsieur Aube," he said bitterly, "the police to-day do not bother
+about such trivial affairs. The minions of Louis XVIII. hunt different
+game."
+
+"Open," came louder than before, "or we shall burst in the door."
+
+"My God! my God! what a day this is," complained Aube, sinking
+helplessly on a chair; "what do the police want in my house?"
+
+"Monsieur Aube, they seek conspirators, heroes of freedom and justice,"
+said Fanfaro earnestly.
+
+"How so? What do you mean?" asked Aube, opening wide his eyes and
+looking at the young man.
+
+"I am one of the men the police are looking for," exclaimed Fanfaro
+coolly.
+
+"You!" exclaimed Montferrand in terror, "then you are lost."
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+"I must say, Monsieur Aube," cried the inspector angrily, "you took a
+long time to obey his majesty's order."
+
+"But at this time of night," stammered Aube. "What are you looking for,
+inspector?"
+
+"Ask rather whom I am looking for?" retorted the inspector.
+
+His gaze fell on Arthur, who did not look very attractive with his
+bloody clothes and torn shirt.
+
+"Who is this tramp?" asked the inspector roughly.
+
+"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."
+
+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:
+
+"I have got a painful mission. I am to look for a 'suspect' in this
+house."
+
+"A 'suspect'?" whispered Aube, anxiously.
+
+"Yes; conspirators who threaten the sacred person of the king."
+
+"And you are looking for these people in my house?" asked Aube,
+apparently overwhelmed at the intelligence.
+
+"Yes, they are said to live here; two acrobats, named Girdel and
+Fanfaro."
+
+"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.
+
+Arthur and the landlord exchanged knowing looks as the inspector strode
+toward the door. Fanfaro must be in safety by this time.
+
+"The house is surrounded," said the inspector, as he went away, "and I
+think we shall have little to do."
+
+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.
+
+"Open, in the name of the law!" thundered a voice, which shook the
+house; and then followed, hardly less loud, the angry exclamation:
+
+"By Jupiter, the nest is empty; the birds have flown!"
+
+At this moment a voice cried from the street:
+
+"Inspector, they are escaping over the roofs."
+
+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.
+
+"Forward, men," cried the inspector. "We must catch them, dead or
+alive."
+
+In a moment, Simon had bounded up the stairs and now stood near the
+official at the skylight.
+
+"How slanting that roof is!" growled the inspector. "One misstep and you
+lie in the street."
+
+He carefully climbed out; Simon followed, and then they both looked
+around for the escaped conspirators.
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+"Surrender!" cried the inspector, holding himself on a chimney.
+
+Fanfaro now rose upright. He made a jump and the next minute he was on
+the neighboring roof.
+
+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.
+
+Girdel now clambered to the edge of the roof, grasped the rope with both
+hands, and began to work his way across to Fanfaro.
+
+"Quick, a knife!" cried the inspector.
+
+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:
+
+"Stop, inspector, are you out of your senses?"
+
+The policeman was no longer able to heed the warning. The knife had done
+its duty, the rope was cut!
+
+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:
+
+"Attention, the rope is cut, take your teeth."
+
+Girdel understood at once, and his mighty jaws held the rope firmly.
+
+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.
+
+The roof was at length reached. Fanfaro swung his arms about Girdel, and
+the next minute they both disappeared behind a tall chimney!
+
+"Papa Girdel, we have nothing to fear now," said Fanfaro, laughing; but
+soon he thought of Louison, and he sighed heavily.
+
+"What is the matter with you, my boy?" asked Girdel, in amazement.
+
+"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."
+
+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:
+
+"We are at a street corner."
+
+"That is a fatal surprise," growled Girdel; "what shall we do now?"
+
+"We must try to reach a roof-pipe and glide down."
+
+"That is easier said than done. Where will you find a roof-pipe able to
+sustain my weight?"
+
+Fanfaro looked at Girdel in amazement. He had not thought of that.
+
+"Then let us try to find a skylight and get into some house," he said,
+after a pause.
+
+"Suppose the window leads to an inhabited room?" observed Girdel.
+
+"Then we can explain our perilous position. We will not be likely to
+tumble into a policeman's house."
+
+"Let us hope for the best," replied Girdel.
+
+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!
+
+"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 roof, a hand armed with a tallow candle appeared
+in the opening.
+
+"I will light the gentlemen," continued the voice.
+
+"Bobichel, is it you?" cried Fanfaro, joyously.
+
+"Certainly, and I ought to know you," was the reply; "really, the master
+and Fanfaro."
+
+"Bobichel," said Girdel, greatly astonished, "is it really you? We
+thought you were dead!"
+
+"Bah! a clown can stand a scratch; but come quickly into my room, it is
+cold outside."
+
+Girdel and Fanfaro entered the small attic and Bobichel received his old
+comrades cordially.
+
+"The ball did not hit you, then?" asked Girdel; "we thought you were
+gone."
+
+"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?"
+
+"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."
+
+"But why are you pursued?" asked Bobichel, anxiously. "Do you belong to
+the conspiracy of which there is so much talk?"
+
+"Probably," replied Girdel.
+
+"Is there a place for me in the conspiracy?" asked the clown,
+vivaciously, "I am without employment just now, and if you wish to take
+me in tow, I--"
+
+"We shall attend to it," said Fanfaro, cordially.
+
+"How is little Caillette getting on?" asked Bobichel, after a pause.
+
+"Very well, thank you. We shall let her know to-morrow morning that we
+are safe."
+
+"Then she is in Paris, too?"
+
+"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."
+
+"Bobichel's eyes knew that long ago," laughed Fanfaro. "Go to bed, old
+friend, you are tired."
+
+"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."
+
+"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."
+
+Bobichel hesitated no longer; he threw himself on his hard couch and in
+less than five minutes he was fast asleep.
+
+As soon as Girdel found himself alone with Fanfaro, he said, in an
+anxious voice:
+
+"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."
+
+"If you only could," sighed Fanfaro; "but you are right, I will tell
+you all. First, Papa Girdel, I must ask you a few questions about my
+past--"
+
+"Speak; what do you wish to know?"
+
+"What did you find out about my mother?"
+
+"That she was the victim of a conflagration. She was in a farmhouse
+which had been set fire to by Cossacks."
+
+"And my father?"
+
+"He died the death of a hero, fighting for his country."
+
+"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."
+
+"I know, I know," said Girdel, sorrowfully.
+
+"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."
+
+"Impossible! Monsieur Aube is a brave man," exclaimed Girdel,
+impatiently.
+
+"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."
+
+"And his name?"
+
+"Vicomte de Talizac."
+
+"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."
+
+"Like father like son. The proverb says that the apple doesn't fall far
+from the tree. The young girl whom Talizac abducted is named Louison,
+and I--"
+
+"My poor boy, you do not really think--"
+
+"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."
+
+"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!"
+
+"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--"
+
+"Is there nothing for Bobichel to do?" asked the clown, sitting up in
+his bed.
+
+"Oh, Bobichel!" exclaimed Fanfaro, gratefully, "if you want to help us?"
+
+"Of course I do. I will accompany master to Robeckal, for I also have a
+bone to pick with the scoundrel."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV
+
+LOUISE
+
+
+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.
+
+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?
+
+"Quick, open--it is on account of Louison," came again from the outside.
+It was Fanfaro who demanded entrance.
+
+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 his mind quickly, he pressed in the
+window, and the next minute he was in the room.
+
+"Where is Louison, madame?" he exclaimed.
+
+The woman did not answer; she looked steadily at him and plunged her
+fingers in her gray hair.
+
+"Madame, listen to me. Louison has been abducted. Don't you know
+anything?"
+
+The poor thing still remained silent, even though her lips trembled
+convulsively, and the deep-set eyes gazed steadily at the young man.
+
+"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?"
+
+At length a word came from the burned woman's breast.
+
+"Jacques, Jacques!" she stammered, clutching the young man's knees and
+looking at him.
+
+Fanfaro trembled. Who was this horrible woman who called him by the name
+of his childhood?
+
+"Louison! Jacques!" uttered the toothless lips, and hot, scalding tears
+rolled over the scarred cheeks.
+
+A flood of never-before-felt emotions rushed over Fanfaro; he tenderly
+bent over the poor woman, and gently said:
+
+"You called me Jacques. I was called that once. What do you know of me?"
+
+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.
+
+"I will tell you what I know of the past," continued Fanfaro, slowly. "I
+formerly lived at Leigoutte in the Vosges. My father's name was Jules,
+my mother's Louise, and my little sister Louison--where is Louison?"
+
+At last a ray of reason broke from the disfigured eyes, and she
+whispered:
+
+"Jacques, my dear Jacques! I am Louise, your mother, and the wife of
+Jules Fougeres!"
+
+"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:
+
+"I have you again. God be thanked!"
+
+"But where is Louison?" broke in Fanfaro, anxiously.
+
+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.
+
+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:
+
+"Mother, where is Louison? Your little Louison, my sister?"
+
+"Louison?" repeated the sick woman, with flaming eyes. "Oh, she is good;
+she brings me fruit and flowers."
+
+"But where is she now?"
+
+"Gone," moaned the invalid.
+
+"Gone? Where to?"
+
+"I do not know. Her bed is empty."
+
+"Then I was not deceived. She has been abducted by that scoundrel,
+Talizac!"
+
+"Talizac?" repeated the maniac, with a foolish laugh. "Oh, I know him,
+do not let him in; he brings unhappiness--unhappiness!"
+
+"Then he has been here?" cried Fanfaro, terror-stricken.
+
+"No, not here--in--Sachemont--I--oh! my poor head."
+
+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.
+
+"Girdel, thank Heaven!" cried Fanfaro, recognizing the athlete, "have
+you found Robeckal?"
+
+"No, the wretches moved out of their former residence in the Rue
+Vinaigrier, yesterday, and no one could tell us where they went."
+
+"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."
+
+"Impossible!" stammered Girdel.
+
+"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:
+
+"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."
+
+"You are right, Bobichel," said Fanfaro, and, pressing a kiss upon his
+mother's forehead, he ran off with Girdel and the clown.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV
+
+SWINDLED
+
+
+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.
+
+"Where are you bringing me to?" cried Louison in terror, as she saw the
+carriage take a wrong direction.
+
+"Keep still, my little pigeon," laughed Robeckal, "I am bringing you to
+a place where it will please you."
+
+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.
+
+"Silence, minx!" exclaimed Robeckal roughly, and pulling a cloth out of
+his pocket he held it in front of Louison's face.
+
+"Ah, now you are getting tame," he mockingly 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.
+
+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.
+
+"Ah, here you are; let me see the chicken!"
+
+With these words Rolla received her comrade.
+
+She put the lamp close to Louison's face, and then said:
+
+"Your Talizac hasn't got bad taste; the little one is handsome."
+
+"Is everything in order?" asked Robeckal, going up the stairs after the
+"Cannon Queen."
+
+"Certainly, look for yourself."
+
+Robeckal entered an elegantly furnished room, and, placing Louison on a
+sofa, he said in a commendatory tone:
+
+"It's pretty fair."
+
+"Don't you think so? Leave the rest to me; I have a grand idea."
+
+"An idea?" repeated Robeckal, doubtingly.
+
+"Yes, an idea that will bring us in a nice sum of money."
+
+"Then I am satisfied. If the little one only does not cause us any
+embarrassment."
+
+"No fear of that. In the first place she should sleep."
+
+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 them, and Rolla poured the liquid down Louison's throat.
+
+"Now come downstairs with me," she said, turning to Robeckal, "and if
+your vicomte comes you will praise me."
+
+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.
+
+"Here they are," said Robeckal, hastily emptying his glass and going to
+the street door, from whence came the sound of loud knocks.
+
+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.
+
+"A glass of water!" commanded the vicomte, in a rough voice, turning to
+Rolla.
+
+The fat woman looked angrily at him, and while she brought the water she
+muttered to herself:
+
+"Wait now. You shall pay dearly for your coarseness."
+
+Talizac drank, and then said:
+
+"Is the little one here?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"You haven't done anything to her, have you?"
+
+"What do you take me for?" growled Rolla.
+
+"Bring me some wash water," said the vicomte, 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."
+
+"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.'"
+
+"Go on; where is she?"
+
+"In the upper story--she is sleeping."
+
+"So much the better. I will lavish my affection on her, and see if she
+is still as prudish."
+
+Rolla preceded the vicomte up the stairs. As she went past she exchanged
+a quick glance with Robeckal, and the latter growled to himself:
+
+"There is something up with her; I will watch and help her should it be
+necessary."
+
+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:
+
+"Open it."
+
+"One moment, we are not as far as that yet. Just look at the little one
+first."
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"Isn't she charming?" giggled Rolla.
+
+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:
+
+"I love you dearly!"
+
+"Open," he hastily ordered.
+
+Rolla let the window fall again and looked impertinently at him.
+
+"My lord," she said, with a courtesy, "before I open this door you will
+pay me twenty thousand francs."
+
+"Woman, are you mad?"
+
+"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."
+
+"Enough of this foolish talk," cried the vicomte, in a rage. "I paid
+your comrade the sum he demanded, and that settles it."
+
+"You are more stupid than I thought," laughed Rolla. "If you do not pay,
+nothing will come of the affair."
+
+"But this is a swindle," said the vicomte.
+
+"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--"
+
+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.
+
+"What is the matter?" he angrily cried.
+
+"Your friend the vicomte forgot his purse and thinks he can get the
+girl on credit," mockingly replied Rolla.
+
+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.
+
+"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."
+
+"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."
+
+"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?"
+
+"Our honor, vicomte," replied Rolla, grinning. "We think as much of our
+reputation as high-toned people."
+
+"Scoundrels," muttered Talizac, as he went away with Velletri. "If we
+could only do without them!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI
+
+MACHIAVELLI AND COMPANY
+
+
+The Marquis of Fougereuse was sitting in his study, and Simon stood
+beside him.
+
+"So he has escaped from us again?" remarked the marquis frowning.
+
+"God knows how it happened, my lord; my plans were all so well laid that
+I cannot understand how the affair fell through?"
+
+"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?"
+
+"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."
+
+"Very good; but still the attempt must be really made, so that Fanfaro
+could be convicted."
+
+"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."
+
+Before the marquis could express his satisfaction, the Marquis of
+Montferrand was announced.
+
+"A visit at this hour!" cried Fougereuse, in amazement; "it is hardly
+seven o'clock."
+
+"The gentleman comes on important business, as he informed me," said the
+servant.
+
+"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.
+
+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.
+
+The old man looked pale. He hastily approached the marquis and said:
+
+"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."
+
+"You are speaking in riddles, marquis!" exclaimed Fougereuse, in
+amazement.
+
+"So much the worse for you, if your son's conduct must be told you by
+another party," said the old man, sternly.
+
+"What is the matter with my son?"
+
+"The Vicomte de Talizac has dishonored himself and the cause you serve."
+
+"My son is young and wild. Has he again committed one of his stupid
+follies?" asked the marquis, uneasily.
+
+"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."
+
+"Impossible!" cried Fougereuse, in a rage.
+
+"I am speaking the truth," declared the old gentleman, calmly.
+
+"What was the nature of this dastardly act?"
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+The marquis excitedly approached her.
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+"Monsieur le Marquis," she politely said, "my son desired me to offer
+you his apologies."
+
+"Apology?" repeated Montferrand, coldly, "for the box on the ear he
+got?"
+
+"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?"
+
+"Perfectly sufficient," said Montferrand, gallantly kissing the
+marquise's hand.
+
+"Then we can count on seeing you to-night at our house?" asked
+Madeleine. "I have a surprise in store for my friends."
+
+"Can one find out in advance the nature of it?" asked Montferrand, while
+Fougereuse looked anxiously at Madeleine.
+
+"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.
+
+"Oh, I call that a surprise," cried Fougereuse, more freely, and
+Montferrand hastened to extend his congratulations.
+
+"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."
+
+"It is only what one might expect from the Marquise of Fougereuse," said
+Montferrand politely, as he rose. "Good-by then, until this evening."
+
+The marquis accompanied the old man to the door, then returned to his
+wife and excitedly asked:
+
+"Madeleine, is all this true?"
+
+Instead of answering, the marquise contemptuously shrugged her shoulders
+and left the room to hunt up her son.
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII
+
+LOUISON
+
+
+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.
+
+"Well, my pigeon, how goes it?" she asked, grinning.
+
+"My head hurts," replied Louison faintly, and throwing an anxious look
+about the strange apartment, she timidly added: "Where am I?"
+
+"Where are you? Among good people certainly, who have become interested
+in you and will do what's right."
+
+Louison was silent and tried to collect her thoughts. But it was no use,
+she had to close her eyes again from exhaustion.
+
+"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 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--"
+
+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:
+
+"Let me go or you shall be sorry for it!"
+
+Rolla looked at the street-singer with a foolish laugh, and, shaking her
+thick head, she laconically said:
+
+"Stay here."
+
+"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."
+
+"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."
+
+"You lie!" cried Louison, in desperation.
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+"Minx!" hissed Robeckal, forcibly holding her back and throwing her to
+the ground.
+
+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:
+
+"For the next few hours you are done for, you little hussy."
+
+"If it were only not too much," said Rolla, as Louison, groaning loudly,
+sank backward and closed her eyes.
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+Toward six o'clock the vicomte entered. He threw a well-filled
+pocket-book on the table, and in a tone of command said: "The key!"
+
+"First we will count," growled Rolla; and opening the pocket-book with
+her fat hands she passed the contents in review.
+
+"It is correct," she finally said; and taking the key out of her pocket
+she handed it to the vicomte.
+
+As soon as the latter had left the room, Rolla shoved the pocket-book in
+her dirty dress, and hastily said:
+
+"Come, Robeckal, the little one might make a noise. Let him see how he
+will get through with her."
+
+Robeckal acquiesced, and they both quickly left the house, leaving all
+the doors open behind them.
+
+They had hardly been gone, when a cry of rage rang through the house,
+and immediately afterward the vicomte burst into the room.
+
+"You have deceived me," he cried, in a rage; "the window is open and the
+girl is gone!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII
+
+THE CANAL
+
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+What had the virago said? "Too late, too late, too late!" The horrible
+words rang in her ears like a death-knell; every pulse-beat repeated,
+"Too late!"
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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--
+
+
+Robeckal and Rolla hurried through the streets with feverish haste. The
+ground burned under their feet, and 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.
+
+"What does this mean?" he angrily cried, as he turned around, "a--"
+
+He paused, for he had recognized Fanfaro. Bobichel had clutched Rolla at
+the same time, and shaking her roughly, he cried:
+
+"Monster, where is the street-singer?"
+
+"What do I know of a street-singer?" cried Rolla, boldly. "Let me go or
+I shall cry out."
+
+"Cry away," replied Bobichel. "You must know best yourself whether you
+desire the interference of the police or not."
+
+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.
+
+"Where is Louison?" asked Fanfaro, in a voice of thunder.
+
+"No. 16 Rue de Belleville."
+
+"Alone?"
+
+"I do not know."
+
+"Scoundrels, God help you, if all is not right," hissed Fanfaro, "bring
+us quickly to the house named."
+
+"Oh, it is very easy to find," began Rolla, but Bobichel threatened her
+with his fist and cried:
+
+"So much the better for you, forward march!"
+
+Robeckal and the Cannon Queen, held in the grips of Fanfaro and the
+clown, proceeded on the way to Belleville. They stopped in front of No.
+16, and it required the application of force to get them to enter.
+
+Rolla, in advance of the others, went to the top story. The door was
+wide open and the room empty.
+
+"Really, he has taken her along?" she exclaimed in amazement.
+
+"Of whom are you speaking?" asked Fanfaro, trembling with fear.
+
+"Of whom else but the little vicomte."
+
+"His name?"
+
+"Talizac."
+
+"The villain!" muttered Fanfaro to himself.
+
+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.
+
+"You have swindled me," the young man read; "you have helped her to
+escape, confound you!"
+
+"Thank God all is not lost yet," whispered Fanfaro, handing Bobichel the
+paper.
+
+"One moment," said the clown; "I have an idea which I would like to
+carry out."
+
+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.
+
+"March, away with you," he said, roughly, "and do not attempt to free
+him; he can ponder over his sins."
+
+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.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIX
+
+SPLENDOR
+
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"Do not frown so," whispered Madeleine to her son, "here comes Irene."
+
+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.
+
+Irene was dazzlingly beautiful, and her rich dress enhanced her charming
+appearance. There was, however, a melancholy look in her dark eyes, but
+her voice sounded clear and strong as she replied to the vicomte's
+greeting.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+The vicomte's voice aroused him from his dreams.
+
+"Well, Arthur," said Talizac laughing, "have you no congratulation for
+me?"
+
+Arthur looked penetratingly at the vicomte, and in a low voice replied:
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"Fanfaro!" cried Montferrand in amazement.
+
+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:
+
+"Ladies and gentlemen, here is the corpse of a young girl whom the
+Vicomte de Talizac murdered."
+
+The women uttered cries of terror and the men looked threateningly at
+Talizac, who was trembling and trying hard to appear indifferent.
+
+The Marquis of Fougereuse was as white as a spectre. Was this Fanfaro
+going to pursue him forever?
+
+"Who is the bold fellow?" he audaciously said. "Throw him out."
+
+"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.
+
+"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?"
+
+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.
+
+Montferrand hurried toward him and cordially shook him by the hand.
+
+"Is she dead--is she really dead?" he asked.
+
+"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?"
+
+From the group of timid ladies came a tall figure clad in a white silk
+dress, and kneeling next to Louison she softly said:
+
+"Here I am."
+
+"The farce is becoming uproarious," cried the Marquis of Fougereuse,
+nervously laughing.
+
+"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?"
+
+"Yes, it is a lie!" exclaimed Talizac, hoarsely.
+
+"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."
+
+"He lies! He is crazy!" cried the vicomte, in despair.
+
+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.
+
+In the meantime Irene had busied herself with Louison, and now
+triumphantly exclaimed:
+
+"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."
+
+The countess assented with tears in her eyes; she was proud of her
+daughter.
+
+"The poor thing is my sister," said Fanfaro in a low voice to Irene.
+
+Irene bent over Louison and kissed her pale forehead. This was her
+answer to Fanfaro's information.
+
+Talizac had now recovered his senses. He tore open the door and angrily
+cried:
+
+"Is there no one here who will show this impudent fellow out? Come in,
+lackeys and servants; lay hands on him!"
+
+"I would advise no one to touch me," said Fanfaro, coldly.
+
+At this moment a hand was laid on Fanfaro's shoulder, and a deep voice
+said:
+
+"In the name of the king, you are my prisoner!"
+
+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.
+
+"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."
+
+A cry of horror followed these words, and, pale and trembling, the
+guests crowded about the officer, who continued after a short pause:
+
+"Asked about his accomplice, the would-be murderer declared that he was
+an agent for a secret society whose chief the prisoner Fanfaro is."
+
+"Oh, what a monstrous lie!" exclaimed Fanfaro, beside himself with rage,
+while Irene de Salves rose upright and with flaming eyes said:
+
+"He a murderer? Impossible!"
+
+"Prudence," whispered Arthur to the young woman, "what I can do for him
+I will."
+
+"Save my sister, Irene," said Fanfaro softly, and 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."
+
+With head erect Fanfaro strode toward the door and disappeared in
+company with the soldiers. Montferrand approached Talizac and hissed in
+his ear:
+
+"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."
+
+"You shall pay for this," said the vicomte, "I will kill you."
+
+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.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XX
+
+IN LEIGOUTTE
+
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+The new owner did not live in the house himself. He 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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+Pierre could not sit still any more. He noiselessly arose 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:
+
+"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!"
+
+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?
+
+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:
+
+"Do not get angry, sir! We shall not trouble you long."
+
+"Make yourselves at home," replied Pierre, cordially; "but tell me," he
+continued, "who is this woman?"
+
+Caillette, for she was the young woman, put her finger to her forehead,
+and looked significantly at the old woman.
+
+"She is crazy," she whispered.
+
+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.
+
+"Tell me," he repeated softly, "who is the woman?"
+
+"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."
+
+"But her name--what is she called?"
+
+"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."
+
+"Louison? Who is that?"
+
+"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."
+
+Pierre was silent for a moment, and then asked:
+
+"Who is this Fanfaro whom you just spoke about?"
+
+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.
+
+"Fanfaro is a foundling," she finally said; "of course he is a man now,
+and just as energetic and brave as any one."
+
+"Fanfaro, Fanfaro," repeated the old man, pensively; "where have I heard
+the name before?"
+
+The maniac now raised her eyes, and, seeing Pierre, she politely said:
+
+"Excuse the plain service, sir; it is very little, but comes from our
+hearts."
+
+Pierre Labarre uttered a cry of astonishment.
+
+"Louise--Louise Fougeres!" he cried, beside himself.
+
+The invalid looked sharply at Pierre, and tremblingly said:
+
+"Who called me? Who pronounced my name just now?"
+
+"I, Louise," replied Pierre. "Louise Fougeres, do you not recollect
+your husband, Jules, and your children, Jacques and Louison?"
+
+"Of course I remember them. Ah, how glad I would be if I could see them
+again! Where can Jules be? and Jacques--Jacques--"
+
+The maniac was silent, and ran her crippled fingers through her gray
+hair, as if she were trying to recollect something.
+
+"Yes, I know," she murmured pensively, "Louison is here, she sleeps in a
+neat white bed, but she is away now--and--and--"
+
+Expectantly Pierre gazed at the poor woman, who was palpably confounding
+imagination with reality, and after a pause she continued:
+
+"Oh, the door opens now, and Jacques enters! Welcome, my dear child. How
+handsome you have become. Thank God, I have you again!"
+
+"Has she really found Jacques again?" asked Labarre, tremblingly, and
+turning to Caillette. "Is he living?"
+
+"Yes, he is the same person as Fanfaro."
+
+"God be praised. And Louison?"
+
+"Louison has been abducted and--"
+
+"Abducted? By whom?"
+
+"By the Vicomte of Talizac."
+
+"By Talizac? O my God!" stammered Labarre, in horror.
+
+Louise, too, had heard the name, and raising herself with difficulty,
+she whispered:
+
+"Talizac? He must know it! Jacques--the box, O God! where is the box?"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+How did these two women get to Leigoutte?
+
+When Fanfaro went to search for Louison, his mother 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.
+
+When she awoke it was daylight. She glanced at the maniac's bed.
+Merciful Heaven, it was empty!
+
+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.
+
+"But she cannot walk at all, how could she get out?" groaned Caillette.
+"Suppose Fanfaro came now and found that his mother was gone?"
+
+"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."
+
+Caillette wrung her hands and then hurried to the station house and
+announced the disappearance of the "Burned Woman."
+
+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.
+
+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 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.
+
+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.
+
+"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:
+
+"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."
+
+"What did she say?" asked Caillette, while the "Burned Woman" clung to
+her.
+
+"Oh, she asked for bread, and then inquired the way to the Vosges."
+
+"Yes, to the Vosges," said the maniac, hastily.
+
+"But, mother, what should we do in the Vosges?" asked Caillette, in
+surprise.
+
+"To Leigoutte--Leigoutte," repeated the maniac, urgently.
+
+"Leigoutte--that is Fanfaro's home!" exclaimed the young girl, hastily.
+
+"Not Fanfaro--Jacques," corrected the old woman.
+
+"But what should we do in Leigoutte, mother?"
+
+"The box--Jacques--Talizac--the papers," the woman replied.
+
+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.
+
+"I must speak to old Laison," said the "Burned Woman," suddenly; "he
+must help me."
+
+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.
+
+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 dug out of the earth; for close to the hollow tree was a
+deep hole, and the box was covered with dirt and earth.
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXI
+
+EXCITED
+
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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:
+
+"Who saved me?"
+
+"Don't you know?" asked the countess, blushing. "It was Fanfaro."
+
+"Fanfaro? Who is that?"
+
+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?
+
+"Won't you tell me who Fanfaro is?" asked Louison, urgently.
+
+"Don't you really know your own brother?" asked Irene in surprise.
+
+"My brother?"
+
+Louison laid her hand on her head and became thoughtful.
+
+"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."
+
+"Jacques and Fanfaro are identical," replied Irene, softly.
+
+She had been told this by her cousin Arthur, who took a great interest
+in the brother and sister.
+
+"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--"
+
+"Perfectly right; he is Fanfaro's foster-father, and Fanfaro is your
+brother."
+
+"Who told you so?"
+
+"He, himself; he begged me to care for his sister."
+
+"But why does he not come? I long to see him."
+
+Irene, too, longed to see Fanfaro.
+
+"Let me speak a little about him," said Louison, vivaciously; "perhaps
+Fanfaro is identical with Jacques; he must be twenty years of age."
+
+"That may be so."
+
+"And then he must be very handsome. Jacques was a very pretty boy."
+
+"That is correct, too," replied Irene, blushing.
+
+"Has he black eyes and dark, curly hair?"
+
+"I think so," stammered Irene, who knew all these details, yet did not
+wish to confess it.
+
+"You think so," repeated Louison; "you haven't looked carefully at him?"
+
+"I--I--" stammered the countess, in confusion; "what do you look at me
+for?"
+
+A smile flitted across Louison's lips, but she kept silent, and Irene
+thanked God, as Madame Ursula now came in and softly said:
+
+"Irene, a word."
+
+"What is the matter?" asked the countess, hastily.
+
+"There is a man outside who would like to speak to you."
+
+"His name?"
+
+"Bobichel--"
+
+"Bobichel? Ah! bring him in the next room directly!"
+
+Madame Ursula nodded and disappeared, while Irene turned to Louison and
+said in explanation:
+
+"Excuse me a moment; I will not leave you long alone."
+
+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:
+
+"Mademoiselle, excuse me for disturbing you, but--"
+
+"You come from him--from Fanfaro?" said Irene, blushing.
+
+"Unfortunately no," replied Bobichel, sorrowfully; "I was not allowed to
+see him."
+
+"Who sent you here?"
+
+"His foster-father--Girdel."
+
+"Why does he not come personally?"
+
+"I do not know. I have something to give you."
+
+"What is it?"
+
+"Here it is," said Bobichel, pulling a small package out of his pocket
+and handing it to Irene.
+
+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."
+
+Without accounting for her feelings, Irene feverishly broke the last
+letter. Did she suspect from whom it came?
+
+
+     "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."
+
+
+The letter bore no signature. Irene read again and again the words of
+her beloved, and hot tears fell on the paper.
+
+Bobichel, deeply affected, observed the young girl, and to console her
+he said:
+
+"Who knows, he might not be found guilty anyhow?"
+
+"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.
+
+"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."
+
+"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."
+
+"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:
+
+"Mademoiselle, in your eagerness to read one of the letters you forgot
+to open the other."
+
+"That's so!" exclaimed Irene blushing, and unfolding Girdel's letter she
+read the following words, written in an original orthographical style:
+
+
+     "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 until after the trial, which will take
+     place in two days. I trust in you.
+                                                           GIRDEL."
+
+
+"What answer shall I bring master!" asked the clown after Irene had read
+the letter.
+
+"That I will do as he says," replied Irene. "Where is the thing Girdel
+intrusted to you?"
+
+"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.
+
+"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."
+
+He disappeared, and the two young girls looked after him filled with new
+hope.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+The marquis and Madeleine had just been having a quarrel, and the
+marquis, pale and exhausted, lay back 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.
+
+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."
+
+Velletri bowed slightly to the marquis, and then said in a cold voice:
+
+"Marquis, I begged for an interview with you which I desire principally
+for your own good. Are we undisturbed here?"
+
+"Entirely so," replied the marquis, coldly.
+
+The Italian sat down in a chair which the marquis had shoved toward him,
+and began in a business tone:
+
+"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--"
+
+"But, count," interrupted the marquis vivaciously, "you were the chum of
+my son, and you even encouraged his dissipations."
+
+Velletri laughed maliciously.
+
+"The Vicomte of Talizac," he said, weighing each 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."
+
+"You, count--but I really do not understand," stammered the marquis.
+
+"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--"
+
+"You are no doubt speaking of the Society of Jesus?" interrupted the
+marquis.
+
+Velletri bowed and continued:
+
+"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--"
+
+The marquis made a gesture of astonishment, and Velletri went on:
+
+"The society is even ready to give you the means to put your shattered
+fortune on a firm basis again."
+
+"And the conditions?" stammered Fougereuse hoarsely.
+
+"I will tell them to you directly; they are not very difficult to
+fulfil."
+
+"And should I refuse them?"
+
+"Do you really intend to refuse them?" asked the Jesuit, softly.
+
+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.
+
+"What does the society ask of me?" he said, after a pause.
+
+"Two things--an important service and a guarantee."
+
+"And what does it offer?"
+
+"The position of his majesty the king's prime minister."
+
+The marquis sprang up as if electrified.
+
+"I have misunderstood you," he said.
+
+"Not at all; it is a question of the premiership."
+
+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.
+
+"You spoke of an important service and a guarantee," he said, breathing
+heavily; "please explain yourself more clearly."
+
+"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."
+
+Fougereuse closed his eyes--this outlook was dazzling.
+
+Fernando de Velletri continued with:
+
+"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. 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?"
+
+Fougereuse had arisen. Excited, flushed with enthusiasm, he looked at
+Velletri.
+
+"Yes, I am the man!" he firmly exclaimed, "I will easily overcome every
+obstacle, conquer every opposition--"
+
+"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--"
+
+"I am yours body and soul," interrupted the marquis impatiently. "And
+to-day--"
+
+"One moment," said the Jesuit, placing his hand lightly on the marquis's
+shoulder; "I also spoke about a guarantee."
+
+"Really," cried Fougereuse sincerely, "I forgot all about that, but I
+should think my word of honor would be sufficient."
+
+Velletri did not reply to his last observation, but coolly said:
+
+"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."
+
+The marquis's face expressed naïve astonishment.
+
+"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?"
+
+"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--"
+
+"Have no fear," interrupted Velletri dryly; "the sum in question is not
+so immense that you need be frightened about it."
+
+Fougereuse breathed more freely.
+
+"To found the houses named only a very modest sum is necessary, not more
+than a million!"
+
+"A million!" stammered the marquis, "a million!"
+
+"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."
+
+"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."
+
+"Then you refuse?" asked Velletri.
+
+"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!"
+
+"Marquis, the house of Fougereuse possesses a fortune which is fabulous
+in comparison to the demands of the society."
+
+"If it were only so," groaned Fougereuse, "but unfortunately you are
+mistaken; I am ruined, totally ruined!"
+
+"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.
+
+"Count, I was robbed of my legacy--dastardly robbed," whined Fougereuse.
+
+The Italian rose up angrily.
+
+"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--"
+
+"War?" repeated Fougereuse, confused. "I--do not understand you!"
+
+"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--"
+
+"I--should I ever become an enemy of the fathers? Oh, you do not
+believe that yourself!"
+
+"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!"
+
+Fougereuse trembled with fear and his teeth chattered as he stammeringly
+said:
+
+"I--do not--understand--you."
+
+"Then listen. The papers are drafts whose signatures have been forged by
+the Vicomte de Talizac, and which are in our hands."
+
+"Drafts? Forged drafts? Impossible--my son is not a criminal!" cried the
+marquis, desperately.
+
+"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."
+
+"One moment, count. Are your conditions unchangeable?"
+
+"Perfectly so. Inside of the next five days the preliminary steps must
+be taken in the Chamber of Peers--"
+
+"I will do them to-morrow," cried the marquis, hastily.
+
+"But only in case you are able to give the necessary guarantee. Marquis,
+adieu!"
+
+The Italian went away, and Fougereuse, entirely broken down, remained
+behind.
+
+He was still sitting thinking deeply, when Simon, who had remained
+behind the curtain and overheard the interview, softly stepped forth,
+and said:
+
+"Courage, marquis; there is no reason for despair. Write to the pious
+fathers that you will satisfy their demands within the required five
+days."
+
+"But I do not understand--"
+
+"And yet it is very clear. Fanfaro is in prison--"
+
+"Even so--he will not be condemned to death."
+
+"If the judges do not kill him, there are other means."
+
+"Other means?"
+
+"Yes, my lord; the legacy of the Fougereuse will fall into your hands,
+and then the cabinet position is sure."
+
+"Simon, are you mad?"
+
+"No, my lord. I will kill Fanfaro!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXII
+
+THE TRIAL
+
+
+Political trials are in all ages similar; and then, as now, the verdict
+is decided upon long before the proceedings have begun.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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 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.
+
+"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--
+
+Now came Fanfaro's turn.
+
+"You are a member of a secret society which bears the proud title of
+'Heroes of Justice'?" asked the presiding judge.
+
+"I am a Frenchman," replied Fanfaro, "and as such I joined with the men
+who desire to free their country."
+
+"And to do this you attempted assassination?" asked the judge, sharply.
+
+"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."
+
+"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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+Fifteen minutes later the verdict was given. Robeckal was condemned to
+death by strangulation, and Fanfaro to the galleys for life.
+
+But at the moment the sentence was pronounced a terrible thing occurred.
+
+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!
+
+Loud cries broke forth.
+
+"He has committed suicide," some cried.
+
+"He has been poisoned," came from others, and all rushed toward the
+unconscious man.
+
+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.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIII
+
+THE CRISIS
+
+
+"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.
+
+"Madeleine!" he exclaimed, "all our troubles are at an end now; he who
+stood between us and fortune is dead."
+
+"Of whom are you speaking?"
+
+"Of whom else but that common regicide."
+
+"What, of that Fanfaro who lately had the audacity to come into our
+parlor and create that terrible scene?"
+
+"Of him--he is dead."
+
+"Heaven be praised. We shall now receive the legacy."
+
+"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."
+
+"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."
+
+The marquis paid no attention to Madeleine's last words. He was
+thinking about Simon and the great service the latter had done for him.
+
+"Where can Simon be?" he uneasily remarked, "I have not seen him in two
+days."
+
+"Bah! he will turn up, let us rather speak about our son. I--"
+
+A knock was heard at the door.
+
+"Come in," said the marquis expectantly; but instead of Simon, as he
+thought, a servant entered.
+
+"My lord," he stammered, "the vicomte--"
+
+"Ah, he is outside!" cried the marquise eagerly; "tell the vicomte we
+are awaiting him."
+
+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:
+
+"Madame--I--"
+
+"What do you mean?" cried the marquise, angrily. "You announce the
+vicomte and lock the door instead of opening it?"
+
+"My lord," said the servant, turning to the marquis.
+
+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:
+
+"Madeleine, let Baptiste speak."
+
+"The--vicomte--is dead," stammered Baptiste.
+
+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.
+
+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 they had been carrying. The burden was a bier, covered with a
+cloth, under which could be seen the outlines of a human form.
+
+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.
+
+"Gaston, what has happened?" cried the marquis in despair, as he
+imploringly held his hand toward the young man.
+
+"He is dead," replied Gaston, in a hollow voice.
+
+"Who is dead? For Heaven's sake speak!" moaned Madeleine.
+
+"Your son, the Vicomte de Talizac, fell in a duel," said Gaston,
+earnestly.
+
+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:
+
+"You lie--my son had no duel!"
+
+"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!"
+
+The marquis still remained unconvinced, and carefully gliding toward the
+bier, he shoved the cloth aside with a trembling hand.
+
+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.
+
+The marquis uttered a hoarse cry and his hand nervously grasped the
+cloth. His eyes shone feverishly and he stammered forth disconnected
+sentences.
+
+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.
+
+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:
+
+"Do not leave this room. I must know how he died."
+
+A wink from Gaston sent the servants away, and as soon as he was alone
+with the parents he began his story.
+
+"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."
+
+Pale, with eyes wide open, the marquis and Madeleine listened to
+Gaston's story. The marquise clinched her fist and angrily exclaimed:
+
+"My son has been murdered, and I will avenge him!"
+
+The marquis remained silent, but his silence made a deeper impression on
+the young man than Madeleine's anger.
+
+"Did my son leave any letter?" asked the marquise, suddenly.
+
+"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."
+
+The young man thereupon handed the marquise the letter. Madeleine tore
+the envelope with a trembling hand. There were only a few lines:
+
+
+     "You have brought me up badly. You are the cause of my death. I
+     hate you!"
+
+
+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.
+
+"Read," she cried, "read these words, which our only child sends us from
+his grave. He hates us--ha, ha, ha!--hates--hates!"
+
+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.
+
+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 expression of dumb terror appeared on his
+features, while he tremblingly murmured: "Pierre Labarre!"
+
+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.
+
+Crushed and annihilated, Pierre Labarre hurried to the Fougereuse
+mansion, and the marquis trembled at sight of him, as if he were a
+spectre.
+
+"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!"
+
+"But I have with you, marquis," replied Pierre calmly. "I have something
+to tell you, and you will listen to me!"
+
+"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."
+
+"No," replied Pierre, sorrowfully; "the real Vicomte de Talizac is dead,
+and from to-day on you are for me the Marquis of Fougereuse."
+
+"I do not understand you," said the marquis, confused. "What has the
+death of my son got to do with my title?"
+
+"I do not speak of the son who lies here a corpse, but of the other--"
+
+"Which other?" asked the nobleman, more and more surprised.
+
+"You will soon understand me--it is about Fanfaro--"
+
+"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!"
+
+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.
+
+"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!"
+
+"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!"
+
+"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!"
+
+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.
+
+"Unhappy father," he murmured, in a broken voice; "would to God
+somebody took the duty off my hands of telling you what you have done."
+
+"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."
+
+"For Heaven's sake be silent: this Fanfaro was not your brother's son!"
+
+"So much the worse!"
+
+"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?"
+
+"Sachemont?" repeated Fougereuse, pensively.
+
+"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!"
+
+Fougereuse looked at the old servant in amazement. Where had Pierre
+Labarre found all this out?
+
+"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 victim of the Vicomte de Talizac gave birth
+to a son, about the commencement of the year 1805--"
+
+"Go on! What else?" asked Fougereuse, mockingly, as Pierre paused.
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+"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."
+
+"It is a lie," hissed Fougereuse, "this Fanfaro was my brother's son;
+tell your fables to others."
+
+Instead of answering, Pierre Labarre searched in his breast-pocket and
+handed the marquis a package of papers. With trembling hands Fougereuse
+opened the ones on top and tried to read, but a veil was before his
+eyes and he tremblingly said:
+
+"Read them, Pierre, I cannot see anything."
+
+Pierre read the following aloud:
+
+
+     "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.
+
+                                                "JULES FOUGERES."
+
+
+"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!"
+
+"Would to God I could say no," replied Pierre, shuddering, "but I
+cannot! Fanfaro was your son--his blood lies on your head!"
+
+"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."
+
+"His name?" asked Pierre.
+
+"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."
+
+Pierre looked contemptuously at the coward who did not hesitate to throw
+the responsibility of the terrible deed on his servant.
+
+"I am going now," he said, coldly; "I have nothing more to do here."
+
+"No, remain. Do not leave me alone with the dead--I am frightened!"
+whined the marquis.
+
+"I must go. I want to look after your other dead son," replied Pierre.
+
+"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.
+
+Pierre thought for a while, and then said earnestly:
+
+"Come then--you are right."
+
+"Thanks, a thousand thanks! But tell me, Pierre, what will become of the
+fortune you have in safe keeping. It exists yet, I hope?"
+
+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.
+
+"Well," exclaimed Fougereuse impatiently, "tell me, where are the
+millions of my father?"
+
+"In a safe place," replied Pierre dryly.
+
+"God be praised! I could draw a million then this evening?"
+
+"My God, marquis! do you need a million to confess your sins?"
+
+"Later! Later! Now answer me, when can I get the million?"
+
+"To-morrow; the documents and bonds are deposited with a lawyer here."
+
+"So much the better."
+
+The marquis hurried to his writing-table, wrote a few lines and rang.
+
+"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."
+
+While the servant was hurrying away, the marquis hastily put on a cloak,
+and left the house with Labarre.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIV
+
+THE AUTOPSY
+
+
+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.
+
+"Doctor," said one of them, "you guarantee a success?"
+
+"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."
+
+"But the long time," said the other anxiously. "You know we can operate
+only at night, and forty hours are sometimes an eternity."
+
+"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."
+
+The other man shook the physician's hand heartily.
+
+"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."
+
+"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."
+
+The doctor went, while the other man struck his face with his hands and
+softly murmured:
+
+"God grant that he be right. I would rather die a thousand deaths than
+lose the dear boy in this way."
+
+Hot tears ran over the man's brown cheeks, and his broad breast rose and
+fell, torn by convulsive sobs.
+
+"Shame yourself, Firejaws!" he murmured, "if any one saw you now! Let us
+hope everything will be all right, and then--"
+
+A loud knock at the door interrupted Girdel's self-conversation, and
+upon a hasty "Come in," Bobichel entered the room.
+
+"Well, Bobi, how goes it?" asked the athlete.
+
+"She is downstairs," said the clown, with a significant gesture.
+
+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.
+
+In the meantime Girdel had met Irene de Salves in the corridor of the
+house.
+
+The young lady wore a black dress, and when she saw the athlete she ran
+to meet him and sobbingly cried:
+
+"He's not dead, is he?"
+
+"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."
+
+"But where is he?" asked Irene anxiously.
+
+"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."
+
+"Ah, if I could only believe it--"
+
+"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."
+
+"A thousand thanks for your confidence, but tell me everything that has
+happened--I can hardly understand the whole thing."
+
+"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."
+
+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:
+
+"Follow me, countess; we will soon be there."
+
+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.
+
+"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:
+
+"Get up, scoundrel, let us look at you!"
+
+Low moans answered the gruff command, and Irene uttered a cry of
+terror, for in the cell a human form moved.
+
+"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."
+
+"But I do not understand--" stammered Irene.
+
+"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."
+
+"Mercy," whispered Simon, for he was really the prisoner, "let me free."
+
+"Really? Perhaps later on, but now you must obey. Quick, tell us what
+brought you here."
+
+"I am hungry," growled Simon.
+
+"Really? Well, if you answer my questions probably you shall have food
+and drink. Why did you want to poison Fanfaro?"
+
+"I do not know," stammered the steward.
+
+"How bad your memory is. What interest did your master, the Marquis of
+Fougereuse, have in Fanfaro's death?"
+
+Simon was silent. Girdel nudged him gently in the ribs with the iron
+bar, and turning to Irene, said:
+
+"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! 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--"
+
+"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.
+
+"Let us leave him alone, mademoiselle," said Girdel; "solitude will do
+him good."
+
+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.
+
+When Girdel and Irene reached the room, the latter sank, sobbing, upon a
+chair, and "the brave athlete" tried his best to console her.
+
+"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."
+
+At this moment Bobichel breathlessly rushed into the room, and Irene
+uttered a cry of terror when she saw his pale face.
+
+"What has happened?" she cried, filled with gloomy forebodings.
+
+"O God--he is lost!" stammered the clown.
+
+"Who is lost?"
+
+"Fanfaro."
+
+"Speak clearly," cried Girdel, beside himself.
+
+"They have brought--Fanfaro--to the--Hotel Dieu," said Bobichel,
+sobbing.
+
+"Well, that isn't such a misfortune," said the athlete, breathing more
+freely. "You need not have frightened us."
+
+"But the worst is to come--they want to hold an autopsy over him to find
+out the cause of death."
+
+"Merciful God! that must not be," cried Irene, wringing her hands. "We
+must run to the hospital and tell all."
+
+"Who is the physician that is going to undertake the autopsy?" asked
+Girdel.
+
+"Doctor Albaret, as I was informed."
+
+"Then rely on me, countess," cried the athlete, rushing away; "either I
+rescue Fanfaro or else I die with him."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXV
+
+FROM SCYLLA TO CHARYBDIS
+
+
+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.
+
+"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?
+
+In the meantime the hall had become crowded, and when Dr. Albaret
+appeared a murmur of expectation ran through the ranks of the students
+and physicians.
+
+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--"
+
+"Dr. Albaret," cried a stentorian voice at this moment--"where is Dr.
+Albaret?"
+
+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.
+
+"A message from his majesty the king," said the man breathlessly.
+
+"A message from his majesty?" repeated the physician eagerly, as he
+grasped the note the messenger gave him.
+
+Hurriedly running over the few lines, Albaret nodded, and quickly
+putting his coat on again, he said, in a tone of importance:
+
+"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."
+
+"But the autopsy?" remarked an elderly colleague.
+
+"It isn't worth the trouble to postpone it," replied 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."
+
+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.
+
+"Bobi, just in time," he breathlessly cried, "five minutes more and
+Fanfaro would have been done for."
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+The nobleman leaned on Pierre Labarre's arm, and returning the
+superintendent's greeting, he tried to speak, but his voice was broken
+by sobs, and so he handed the official a folded paper and looked
+inquiringly at him.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"I should like--to see--the deceased," stammered the broken-down father.
+
+The official bowed, and accompanied his guide up to the operating room
+where Fanfaro's body still lay.
+
+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.
+
+"Marquis, shall I call the carriers?" asked Pierre, gently.
+
+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:
+
+"There is only one thing left for me--I must bury my sons and then die
+myself."
+
+"But Madame la Marquise," said Pierre, anxiously.
+
+"The marquise will have the same wish as I have to suffer for our sins,"
+said the marquis, frowning; "and--"
+
+At this moment Baptiste rushed into the room, and with a frightened look
+exclaimed:
+
+"Madame la Marquise is nowhere to be seen, and her maid fears she has
+done herself an injury--she was talking so strangely."
+
+Pierre and the marquis exchanged a silent look, and then the nobleman
+gently said:
+
+"She did right. Of what further use was she in the world? Oh, I envy
+her!"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+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.
+
+"I really forgot all about it," cried the superintendent to whom Girdel
+had gone for information. "The body has been taken away long ago."
+
+"Taken away?" repeated the athlete, astonished.
+
+"Yes; the Marquis of Fougereuse claimed him and took him along. I
+believe he intends to bury him in his family vault."
+
+"Almighty God! Is that true?" asked Girdel, horror-stricken.
+
+"Yes, certainly; he brought carriers along, and that settled the
+matter."
+
+"Where is the family vault of the Fougereuse?" asked Girdel.
+
+"Oh, far from Paris; somewhere in Alsace, if I remember aright."
+
+"God have mercy on me!" muttered Girdel to himself.
+
+The official looked at him with amazement. What was the matter with the
+man?
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVI
+
+MISTAKEN
+
+
+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 _pro
+forma_, 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.
+
+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.
+
+Suppose they no longer remembered the compact?
+
+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 detective, entered his
+cell. Robeckal knew him, and breathed more freely. Vidocq, no doubt,
+came to release him.
+
+"Thank God you have come, Monsieur Vidocq," cried Robeckal to the
+official; "the time was becoming rather long for me."
+
+"I am sorry that I have kept you waiting," replied Vidocq, quietly; "but
+there were certain formalities to be settled, and I--"
+
+"Ah! no doubt in regard to the money?" said Robeckal, laughing. "Have
+you brought the yellow birds along?"
+
+"Slowly, slowly--first let me inform you that the death sentence has
+been torn up."
+
+"Really? I did not expect anything else."
+
+"You do not say so," observed the official, ironically. "Then you
+already know your fate?"
+
+"Yes, I am going to England and from there to America."
+
+"I don't know anything about that; my information is that you will not
+leave France."
+
+Robeckal's face became a shade paler, still he did not lose courage.
+
+"Where am I to be sent?" he hastily asked.
+
+"For the present to the south of France."
+
+"To--the--south--of--France," repeated Robeckal.
+
+"To Toulon."
+
+"To Toulon?" cried the wretch, in terror. "That is impossible!"
+
+"And why should it be impossible?" asked Vidocq, smiling maliciously.
+
+"Because--because," stammered Robeckal, faintly, "the sentence--"
+
+"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."
+
+"But--the--promise?" whined the criminal. "But, come, now, you are only
+joking?"
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVII
+
+FREEDOM
+
+
+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.
+
+A slight knock was now heard at the door of the cottage.
+
+"Who is there?" asked the young man, anxiously.
+
+"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.
+
+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:
+
+"We have been sent here to find Fanfaro."
+
+"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.
+
+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:
+
+"Arthur, have you sent me this invitation?"
+
+With these words, she handed Arthur de Montferrand, for he was the young
+man, the following note:
+
+
+     "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."
+
+
+"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."
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+"Jacques--where is Jacques?" she incessantly repeated, and the fact that
+Louison was really her daughter seemed to have entirely escaped her.
+
+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.
+
+A skyrocket now shot up in the dark sky; it exploded aloft with a loud
+noise, and a golden rain lighted up the horizon for a while.
+
+"That was undoubtedly a good sign," thought Arthur, hastily opening the
+cottage door.
+
+Loud oar-sounds were now heard, and a light boat struck for the shore
+with the rapidity of an arrow.
+
+The keel now struck the sand and a slim form sprang quickly out of the
+bark and hurried toward the cottage.
+
+"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:
+
+"Jacques--where is Jacques? I do not see him!"
+
+"Here I am, my poor dear mother," sobbed Fanfaro, sinking on his knees
+in front of the old lady.
+
+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.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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 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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+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.
+
+"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!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVII
+
+BENEDETTO'S REVENGE
+
+
+     _A Letter of the Count of Monte-Cristo to his son, Vicomte Spero_
+
+     "MY DEARLY BELOVED SON--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.
+
+     "In regard to myself this opportunity must come soon, for I have
+     passed my sixtieth year, and my strength is failing.
+
+     "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 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!
+
+     "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!'
+
+     "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.
+
+     "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 _coup d'état_ of December, and his mother died of a
+     broken heart.
+
+     "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.
+
+     "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.
+
+     "Will you be able to understand me and my motives? Ah, Spero, I
+     cannot help domineering over those about me, and that is why I am
+     going.
+
+     "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.
+
+     "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.
+
+     "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.
+
+     "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.
+
+     "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.
+
+     "My son! give generously, believe in humanity, and do not distrust
+     any one; real experience is gained only by mistakes.
+
+     "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,
+                                                     YOUR FATHER."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVIII
+
+SPERO
+
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+The vicomte sat at his writing-desk and was reading 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.
+
+"When did the count leave the house?" asked Spero, whose voice reminded
+one of his father's.
+
+"This evening, vicomte," replied Coucou, with military briefness.
+
+"Why was I not called?"
+
+"The count forbade it. He ordered me to place the letter which you found
+on the writing-table and--"
+
+"Did the count go alone?"
+
+"No, Ali accompanied him."
+
+"In what direction did he go?"
+
+"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."
+
+"Without asking any questions?"
+
+"Oh, vicomte, no one asks the Count of Monte-Cristo for a reason," cried
+Coucou, vivaciously. "I am not a coward, but--"
+
+"I know you possess courage," replied the young man.
+
+"_Sapristi_--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."
+
+"What makes you think that your language displeases me?" asked Spero,
+laughing.
+
+"Because--excuse me, vicomte, but sometimes you look so stern--"
+
+"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."
+
+"Ah, it is easy to speak to the count," said Coucou, unthinkingly; "he
+has such a cheering smile--"
+
+A frown passed over Spero's face, and he gently said:
+
+"My father is good--he is much better than I am--I knew it long ago."
+
+"Vicomte, I did not say that," cried the Zouave, embarrassed.
+
+"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."
+
+"Yes, sir," replied Coucou, "and now I have a special favor to ask you,
+vicomte."
+
+"Speak, it is already granted."
+
+"Vicomte, the count never calls me Auguste, which is my baptismal name,
+but Coucou. If you would call me Coucou, I--"
+
+"With pleasure. Well, then, Coucou, you know nothing further?"
+
+"Nothing."
+
+"It is good. You can go."
+
+The Zouave turned toward the door. When he had nearly reached it, Spero
+cried:
+
+"Coucou, stay a moment."
+
+"Just as you say, vicomte."
+
+"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 accompanied my father and me to Africa, and that you placed
+your own life in danger to rescue mine."
+
+"Ah, vicomte," stammered the Zouave, deeply moved, "that was only my
+duty."
+
+"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?"
+
+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.
+
+"What is the matter with you?" asked Spero, in amazement.
+
+"Oh, nothing, but--"
+
+"Well, but--"
+
+"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?"
+
+Spero looked wonderingly at his hands, and then dreamily said:
+
+"I am stronger than I thought."
+
+"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?"
+
+"Downstairs in the dining-room."
+
+"Are you going to breakfast alone?"
+
+"That depends. Perhaps one of my friends may drop in, though I haven't
+invited any one."
+
+"Please ring the bell in case you want to be served," said Coucou, as
+he left the room.
+
+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.
+
+"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!"
+
+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.
+
+Spero was never heard to praise or admire this or that, before he had
+first inquired whether such an 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.
+
+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:
+
+"Bring the gentleman to the dining-room, Coucou, and put two covers on;
+we shall dine together."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIX
+
+FORWARD, MARCH
+
+
+When Spero entered the dining-room, a handsome young man about
+twenty-five years of age hurried toward him with outstretched arms.
+
+"How are you, my dear Spero?" he vivaciously cried.
+
+"Oh, thank you, very well. Do you know, Gontram, that you couldn't have
+come at a more appropriate hour?"
+
+"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?"
+
+"No; what makes you think so?" replied Spero, confused.
+
+"Your appearance is different from usual. Your eyes sparkle, and you are
+feverishly excited. Perhaps you have some secret to intrust to me?"
+
+In the meantime the young men had seated themselves at table, and while
+they were eating they indulged in general conversation.
+
+"Do you know that my father has left Paris suddenly?" asked Spero in the
+course of the conversation.
+
+"No. Where has the count gone to?"
+
+"I do not know," said the vicomte.
+
+Gontram Sabran had been acquainted with Spero for two years.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"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."
+
+Spero had become curious, and upon his acquiescence Gontram told him the
+following.
+
+"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 had fainted, and I brought a very sick girl
+back to Paris.
+
+"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.
+
+"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:
+
+"'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.'
+
+"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:
+
+"'Bring her up and beg her to play at my bedside.'
+
+"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.
+
+"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."
+
+"Monsieur Sabran," said Spero when the painter had finished, "your
+little romance is interesting, and I am now ready to pay fifty thousand
+francs for the picture."
+
+Gontram looked pityingly at the vicomte and dryly replied:
+
+"I stick to my refusal."
+
+Spero went away disappointed. Two days later he hurried to the painter's
+studio and hesitatingly said:
+
+"Monsieur Sabran, I treated you the other day in a mean way. Please
+excuse me."
+
+Gontram was surprised. Taking the vicomte's hand, he cordially said:
+
+"I am glad I was mistaken in you; if features such as yours are
+deceitful, then it is bad for humanity."
+
+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.
+
+"Where did your father go to?" he asked.
+
+"I do not know," replied Spero, uneasily.
+
+"What? Your father did not inform you?" asked Gontram.
+
+"No," replied Spero; "he departed this evening and left a letter for me
+behind him."
+
+"Ah, really, every one does as he pleases," said Gontram. "Do you know I
+came here to-day to ask a favor of you?"
+
+"You couldn't do me a greater pleasure," replied Spero, cheerfully;
+"everything I possess is at your disposal."
+
+"I thought so; the next time you will offer me your millions," cried
+Gontram, laughing.
+
+"I hope you will ask me for something besides wretched money," said
+Spero, warmly. "I could gladly fight for you, or do some other important
+service for you."
+
+"And suppose I was to keep you at your word?" asked Gontram, seriously;
+"suppose I came here only to demand a sacrifice of you?"
+
+"Oh, speak!" cried the vicomte, eagerly.
+
+"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."
+
+"I--would--do it--to please you," replied Spero, hesitatingly.
+
+"I thought so," cried the painter, laughing; "yet I made you the
+proposition, because I thought you were boring yourself to death here."
+
+"But--"
+
+"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."
+
+Spero gazed at the painter in astonishment.
+
+"Why have you not told me all that long ago?" he slowly asked.
+
+"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. 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."
+
+Spero bit his lip.
+
+"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.
+
+"Bravo, you have already learned something. First fill your wine-glass,
+otherwise I shall drink all your fine sherry alone."
+
+The habit of drinking moderately Spero had also learned from his father.
+
+Upon the remark of the painter, he filled his glass and impatiently
+said:
+
+"Well?"
+
+"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--"
+
+"In your studio?" said Spero in surprise.
+
+"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 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?"
+
+"Is that all?" said Spero, cordially. "You give me joy, and I hope you
+will allow me to attend to it."
+
+"That depends. What do you intend to do?"
+
+"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--"
+
+"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."
+
+"I generally work at night," replied Spero, hesitating.
+
+"No rule without an exception," declared the painter; "I have invited
+ladies too, and I hope you will enjoy yourself."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXX
+
+JANE ZILD
+
+
+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 _soirées_, 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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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:
+
+"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."
+
+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
+_salon_, and as Gontram had painted the picture, no one wondered any
+longer at seeing the handsome Carmen and her father in the studio.
+
+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 dazzling white forehead, and the small, finely
+formed mouth understood how to talk.
+
+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?
+
+"I am thankful to you, mademoiselle, for having come here," said
+Gontram, sparkling with joy, as he walked by the young girl's side.
+
+"How could I have refused your cordial invitation?" replied Carmen,
+laughing; "even princesses have visited the studios of their court
+painters."
+
+"The Duchess of Ferrara, for instance," said a young sculptor who had
+overheard the remark.
+
+Gontram frowned, and whispered softly to the young artist:
+
+"You ought to be ashamed of yourself, Raoul."
+
+Carmen, however, laughed, and carelessly said:
+
+"Let him alone; I knew the story long ago."
+
+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?
+
+"What about the surprise you were going to give your guests?" asked
+Carmen, after an uncomfortable pause.
+
+"I will keep my word," replied the painter, laughing. "Have you ever
+heard the name of Jane Zild, mademoiselle?"
+
+"Jane Zild? That wonderful songstress who comes from the north, either
+Lapland or Finland? What is the matter with her?"
+
+"Well, this songstress, who, by the way, comes from Russia, has promised
+to be here to-night," declared Gontram, triumphantly.
+
+"Ah, really?" replied Carmen, breathing heavily, while her eyes shot
+forth threatening gleams.
+
+"What ails you, mademoiselle?" asked Gontram uneasily, "have I hurt you
+in any way?"
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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:
+
+"A good host has generally several surprises _in petto_ for his guests;
+are you an exception to the general rule?"
+
+Gontram was about to reply when the door was opened and the servant
+announced:
+
+"Mademoiselle Jane Zild, the Vicomte of Monte-Cristo!"
+
+"There you have my second surprise," said the painter, laughing; "are
+you satisfied now?"
+
+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.
+
+"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?"
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+The climax of the performance was to be a duet, to be sung by the great
+Roger and a diva who was past her 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!"
+
+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.
+
+"What is your name, mademoiselle?" asked Roger.
+
+"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?"
+
+Without waiting for answer Jane Zild went to the piano.
+
+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:
+
+"Thank God, Madame X---- is sick!"
+
+"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.
+
+For two days nothing else was talked of in Paris but the young
+songstress. Jane Zild lived in a house in the 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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"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?
+
+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.
+
+Gontram did not say no, and immediately hurried to the diva's house to
+thank her.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+Jane Zild strode the rooms with the dignity of a queen.
+
+"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.
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+"Well," she finally said, "I will forgive you, but only upon one
+condition. Have you a moment's time?"
+
+"For you always," replied the painter, warmly.
+
+"Good; then conduct me to the terrace."
+
+"To the terrace?" repeated Gontram in surprise. "How do you know I have
+a terrace?"
+
+"Oh, I heard my father mention it a little while ago."
+
+"That's so," replied the painter. "Will you please accompany me?"
+
+They both walked through the studio and turned into the gallery.
+
+Suddenly Gontram paused, and uttered a low cry of astonishment.
+
+Spero was leaning against a door sunk in thought.
+
+"Can I introduce the young man to you?" asked Gontram softly of his
+companion.
+
+"Who is he?" replied Carmen.
+
+"The Vicomte of Monte-Cristo!"
+
+"What? The son of the celebrated count?" asked the young lady, looking
+at Spero with increased interest.
+
+"Yes. I have a high regard for the vicomte."
+
+"I could have thought so," said Carmen, laughing.
+
+"What do you mean by that, mademoiselle?" asked Gontram in surprise.
+
+"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.
+
+"I hope to be able soon to prove my esteem for you," whispered the young
+man.
+
+Carmen was for a moment silent, and then vivaciously said:
+
+"Introduce me; I am curious to know your little vicomte."
+
+Just then Spero raised his head, and, seeing Gontram, he cordially said:
+
+"Gontram, am I not deserving of praise? You see I have accepted your
+invitation."
+
+"I am very grateful to you," replied the painter warmly, and turning to
+Carmen he said:
+
+"Mademoiselle de Larsagny, permit me to introduce the Vicomte of
+Monte-Cristo to you."
+
+Spero bowed deeply. The young lady gazed steadily at the handsome
+cavalier, and admiration shone in her eyes.
+
+"I really have not had the pleasure of seeing the vicomte. I should not
+have forgotten him."
+
+"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."
+
+Spero protested with a shake of the head, and muttered some disconnected
+words. Carmen, however, noticed that his thoughts were elsewhere.
+
+"Mademoiselle de Larsagny," said Gontram, laughing now, "I hope that you
+and the other ladies here will succeed in converting the hermit."
+
+Carmen was dissatisfied with the vicomte's indifference, and, bowing
+coldly, she went away, drawing the painter with her.
+
+"Well, how does my eccentric please you?" asked Gontram.
+
+"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?"
+
+"The same."
+
+"And has this man--Edmond Dantes was his right name--really had all the
+adventurous wanderings imputed to him?"
+
+"I am sure of it."
+
+"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?"
+
+"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
+visited, and he is again absent. However, if it interests you, I will
+make inquiries and--"
+
+"Not for any price," interrupted Carmen, laughing; "let us drop the
+subject and hurry to the terrace before others get there ahead of us."
+
+"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.
+
+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.
+
+The two young persons stood upon the little terrace, and the spring wind
+played with Carmen's golden locks and fanned Gontram's cheeks.
+
+The young girl now leaned over the railing, and, breathing the balsamic
+air, she sighed:
+
+"Ah, how beautiful and peaceful it is here."
+
+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:
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+"Let us go back to the parlor," said the young girl, and it seemed to
+Gontram that her voice had changed in tone.
+
+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:
+
+"Gontram, have you a minute for me? I must speak to you."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXI
+
+A THUNDERBOLT
+
+
+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.
+
+"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."
+
+"Oh, that is not it," said Spero, hesitating; "but--"
+
+"Well, speak. You frighten me," said Gontram, uneasily.
+
+"Gontram," began the vicomte, "you have confidence in me?"
+
+"Certainly; but what have we to do with that now? You know that I esteem
+you--"
+
+"And you do not think me capable of deceiving or lying to you?"
+
+"Spero, I do not know you any more," cried Gontram, more and more
+confused.
+
+"Have patience, you will soon learn to understand me," said the vicomte,
+smiling curiously; "let me now tell you what has happened to me."
+
+Spero took a long breath, and then continued:
+
+"About ten minutes ago I was standing here, listening 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.'"
+
+"A trap laid? What does that mean, and who was it that gave you this
+warning?" asked Gontram, in amazement.
+
+"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."
+
+"No one?" repeated the painter, breathing more freely. "That looks like
+magic! Are you sure, Spero, that you didn't deceive yourself?"
+
+"You do not believe me," said the vicomte, smiling sorrowfully.
+
+"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--"
+
+"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."
+
+"Curious! Perhaps some one has played a joke upon you."
+
+"That would not be improbable, yet I do not believe it. The words were
+spoken seriously."
+
+"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?"
+
+"Perfect confidence," said the vicomte, warmly.
+
+"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.
+
+"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."
+
+Jane Zild had risen after the song was ended, and while the applause
+sounded about her, she looked steadily at the vicomte.
+
+"Banish the black thoughts," whispered Gontram to the young man, "come
+and talk a little to the diva; she appears to expect it."
+
+"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."
+
+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."
+
+Just then something unexpected happened. A burning candle fell down
+from the chandelier, and a flame licked the black lace dress of the diva
+and enveloped her.
+
+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.
+
+The next minute Jane stood with pale face, but otherwise uninjured,
+before her rescuer, and holding her little hand to him, she whispered
+cordially:
+
+"Thanks, a thousand thanks!"
+
+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.
+
+A man dressed in plain dark clothes hurried through the crowd, and
+looking anxiously at Jane he cried in a vibrating voice:
+
+"Are you injured?"
+
+The diva trembled when she heard the voice, and blushing deeply, she
+hastily replied:
+
+"No, thank God, I am not hurt. The coolness of the Vicomte of
+Monte-Cristo prevented a misfortune."
+
+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.
+
+The man bowed respectfully to the vicomte, and Jane, turning to Spero,
+said in cordial tones:
+
+"Complete your good work, vicomte, and conduct me to my carriage."
+
+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:
+
+"I hope we shall see each other again."
+
+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.
+
+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:
+
+"You have forgotten your hat, vicomte. Jean, quick, go and get it."
+
+Spero, in astonishment, felt his head; it was true, the coachman was
+right.
+
+"Stay, Jean, I shall go myself," he briefly said, as he hurried back to
+the house.
+
+Just as he reached the stairs, Monsieur de Larsagny and his daughter,
+whom Gontram escorted, and Count Vellini and his secretary came down.
+
+"Vicomte," said Carmen, vivaciously, "you are a hero, and the rest of
+the gentlemen can take you for an example."
+
+Monsieur de Larsagny coughed slightly, while Fagiano loudly cried:
+
+"The vicomte is the worthy son of his father, the great count."
+
+These words, although spoken in a respectful tone, displeased Spero, yet
+he kept silent and the guests departed.
+
+"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."
+
+"That is my position, too," replied the vicomte.
+
+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.
+
+"Have a care," hissed Fagiano's voice, "you shall suffer for being his
+son."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXII
+
+OLD ACQUAINTANCES
+
+
+Jane Zild lived in a modest room in a small house on the Champs-Elysées.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"What is the matter, my dear?" asked the worthy lady.
+
+"Oh, nothing," replied Jane; "I am only tired."
+
+"Then you tell me, at least, what has occurred," said Madame Vollard,
+turning to Melosan.
+
+"Later on, later on. The young lady is excited and needs rest."
+
+"Oh, I will give her some drops," said the good-hearted lady, "I--"
+
+"Good-night, Madame Vollard," said the secretary, and taking a light
+from the lady's hands, he hurried up the stairs with Jane.
+
+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.
+
+"You are suffering?" he said, after a pause.
+
+Jane shuddered. "Ah, no," she said, "I am feeling perfectly well."
+
+"But the fright?"
+
+"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!"
+
+Melosan held down his head.
+
+"A queen would have been proud at the reception you had to-night."
+
+"Why do you tell me this?" she exclaimed. "A queen? I? Oh, what bitter
+mockery!"
+
+"But your eminent talent--your voice?"
+
+"Would to God I had none! I--but go now, I want to be alone."
+
+The man sorrowfully approached the door; on the threshold he paused and
+imploringly murmured:
+
+"Pardon me, Jane, I did not wish to hurt you."
+
+"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!"
+
+She sobbed as if her heart would break, and Melosan wrung his hands in
+despair.
+
+"Jane, tell me what has happened," he said, in despair. "I have never
+seen you this way before. Has any one insulted you?"
+
+"No one," said Jane, softly, "no one."
+
+"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."
+
+Melosan's words caused the young girl to dry her tears.
+
+"You are right," she said, half ashamed, "I was foolish and ungrateful.
+I will forget the past. Forgive me--grief overwhelmed me."
+
+"You are an angel," cried Melosan, enthusiastically; "but now you must
+really go to bed. Good-night, Jane."
+
+"Good-night," said the young girl, cordially, and then the door closed
+behind Melosan.
+
+As the secretary was about to go to his room, Madame Vollard intercepted
+him on the stairs.
+
+"Well, how goes it?" she asked; "has the poor child recovered?"
+
+"Yes, thank you."
+
+"What occurred?"
+
+"She was almost burned to death; her dress had already caught fire."
+
+"What a lucky accident--"
+
+"Lucky accident?" repeated Melosan, not understanding.
+
+"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--"
+
+"To-morrow, Madame Vollard, to-morrow," Melosan interrupted her. "I
+really feel fatigued, and should like to go to my room."
+
+"You are right. I ought to have known it."
+
+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.
+
+"What is going to happen now," he muttered to himself; "my money is
+nearly all gone, and--"
+
+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.
+
+"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--"
+
+A slight noise caused Melosan to pause and listen. For a while all was
+silent, and then the noise recommenced. He hurried to the door, but
+could not see any one, and returning to the room he shook his head and
+resumed his seat.
+
+"I must have been deceived," he murmured uneasily, "and yet I thought--"
+
+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.
+
+"Who's there?" he cried.
+
+"Some one who desires to speak to you," came back in firm tones.
+
+"To me? At this hour?" asked the secretary in a daze.
+
+"Yes, to you--open quickly or I shall burst in the window."
+
+Melosan saw that it could not be a thief, and so he hesitatingly shoved
+back the bolt.
+
+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:
+
+"You! You! O God! how did you get here?"
+
+"Ha! ha! ha! Don't you see I came from the roof?" cried the man,
+mockingly.
+
+"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."
+
+"You won't do any such thing," said the other, coolly. "Do you think
+because you are posing as an honest man 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?"
+
+A shudder ran through Melosan, and he looked at the floor in despair.
+
+"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.
+
+Melosan was evidently struggling with himself. At last he had made up
+his mind, and, angrily approaching the other, said:
+
+"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."
+
+"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!"
+
+"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!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXIII
+
+THE CATASTROPHE
+
+
+The two men looked at each other with flaming eyes. In Toulon they were
+chained together, and now--
+
+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.
+
+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:
+
+"We two have nothing in common any more."
+
+"That is a question. Sit down and listen to me."
+
+"No, Benedetto, we are done with each other."
+
+"Nonsense--you have become virtuous all of a sudden," mocked Count
+Vellini's secretary.
+
+"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 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!"
+
+"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?"
+
+Anselmo moaned aloud.
+
+"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."
+
+"I--do not--understand you," stammered Anselmo.
+
+"Think of the past," replied Benedetto, frowning.
+
+"Of the time when the smith fastened us to the same chain?"
+
+"Oh, think again."
+
+Anselmo trembled.
+
+"Do you speak of the moment when we jumped into the sea and escaped from
+the galleys?" he softly asked.
+
+"No; your memory seems to be weak."
+
+"I do not know what you mean."
+
+"Really? You seem to have drunk from the spring of Lethe," said
+Benedetto, contemptuously. "Anselmo, have you forgotten our meeting at
+Beaussuet?"
+
+"Scoundrel! miserable wretch! Do you really dare to remind me of that?"
+cried Anselmo, beside himself.
+
+"Why not?"
+
+"If you can do so--no power on earth can induce me to say another word
+about that horrible affair," said Anselmo, shuddering.
+
+"My nerves are better than yours," laughed Benedetto. "It was only to
+speak to you about that particular night that I braved the danger of
+hunting you up. I need you as a witness, and that is why you see me
+here."
+
+"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!"
+
+"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?"
+
+"Yes," groaned Anselmo.
+
+"No jeremiads! Do you also remember the vicarage at Beaussuet?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Well, a certain person came expressly from Toulon to see about a sum of
+money, a million--"
+
+"I have not touched a penny of the money," interrupted Anselmo,
+shuddering.
+
+"No, certainly not, you were always unselfish. Well, do not interrupt
+me. The person who came from Toulon (_recte_ Benedetto) was just about
+to put the sum of money in his pocket, when the devil sent a stranger
+who--"
+
+"Benedetto, if you are a human being and not a devil, keep silent,"
+cried Anselmo, beside himself.
+
+Benedetto shrugged his shoulders.
+
+"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."
+
+"Wretch! It was the breast of your mother!" stammered Anselmo.
+
+"Ah, your memory is returning to you," mocked Benedetto, with a cynical
+smile. "Yes, it was my mother. But how did you know it?"
+
+"I met the unfortunate woman on the way in the gorges of Oliolles--"
+
+"Ah! and there she told you the story of her life."
+
+"She begged me to help her save her son, and I promised to do so; I knew
+that you were that wretched son."
+
+"Did she tell you her name?" said Benedetto, uneasily.
+
+"She hid nothing from me. I found out that the son she wished to save
+intended to murder her--"
+
+"Facts," said Benedetto, roughly, "and less talk."
+
+"And that this son was a child of sin."
+
+"Ah, really; and her name?"
+
+"She made me swear to keep it secret."
+
+"So much the better! She really thought, then, that a galley-slave was a
+man of his word?"
+
+"Galley-slave or not, I have kept silent, and will do so further."
+
+"You are a hero! Nevertheless, you can tell me the name."
+
+"No!"
+
+"And if I demand it?"
+
+"I won't tell you, either."
+
+"Anselmo, have a care!" hissed Benedetto, angrily. "Tell me the name,
+or--"
+
+"I am silent," declared Anselmo; "you do not know the name, and you will
+never learn it from me."
+
+Benedetto broke into a coarse laugh.
+
+"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."
+
+Anselmo uttered a cry of rage.
+
+"Well, preacher of words, what do you say now?" asked Benedetto,
+politely.
+
+"Since you know the name, we are done with each other," said Anselmo,
+"and I think you will now leave me in peace."
+
+"You are wrong, my dear Anselmo; do you know that you are very
+disrespectful?"
+
+Anselmo began to ponder whether it would not be better to appear more
+friendly to the hated comrade.
+
+"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--"
+
+"As I had reason to notice," interrupted Benedetto. "You were ready to
+kill me."
+
+"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."
+
+"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."
+
+Anselmo sprang upon Benedetto and, holding his clinched fist in his
+face, he said:
+
+"Benedetto, if you care to live, don't say another word!"
+
+"And why?" asked the wretch, with silent contempt.
+
+"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."
+
+"You forbid me? Come now, Anselmo, you speak in a peculiar tone," hissed
+Benedetto.
+
+"I speak exactly in the tone the matter demands. You know my opinion;
+conduct yourself accordingly."
+
+"And if I did not care to obey you?"
+
+"Then I would denounce you, even though I put my own neck in danger."
+
+"Ha! ha! I tell you you won't do anything of the kind."
+
+"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."
+
+"Have you pen, ink and paper?" asked Benedetto, after Anselmo had
+concluded.
+
+"Yes. What do you want to do with them?"
+
+"You shall soon find out."
+
+Anselmo silently pointed to a table upon which writing materials lay.
+Benedetto dipped the pen in the ink, and, grinning, said:
+
+"My friend, have the kindness to take this pen and write what I
+dictate."
+
+"I?"
+
+"Yes, you. I only want you to write a few lines."
+
+"What shall I write?"
+
+"The truth."
+
+"I do not understand you."
+
+"It is very simple; you will write down what you have just said."
+
+"Explain yourself more clearly."
+
+"With pleasure; better still, write what I dictate."
+
+Anselmo looked uneasily at the wretch; Benedetto quietly walked behind
+the ex-priest's chair, and began:
+
+"On the 24th of February, 1839, Benedetto, an escaped convict from the
+galleys of Toulon, murdered Madame Danglars, his mother."
+
+"That is horrible!" cried Anselmo, throwing the pen down; "I shall not
+write that."
+
+"You will write; you know I can force you; therefore--"
+
+Anselmo sighed, and took up the pen again.
+
+"So, I am done now," he said, after a pause; "must it be signed, too?"
+
+"Certainly; though the name has nothing to do with it. You can put any
+one you please under it."
+
+It sounded very simple, and yet Anselmo hesitated.
+
+"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."
+
+Benedetto laughed in a peculiar way.
+
+"I know you are not rich," said the pretended secretary, "and--"
+
+Anselmo made a threatening gesture, but Benedetto continued:
+
+"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--"
+
+Unconsciously Anselmo glanced at the portfolio which lay on the table.
+Benedetto noticed it and laughed maliciously.
+
+"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."
+
+"But I have not asked for anything," murmured Anselmo.
+
+"I offer you a price."
+
+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."
+
+Anselmo grew pale. Did Benedetto know of his troubles? Had he read his
+thoughts?
+
+"I will not do it," he said, rising up. "Keep your money, Benedetto; it
+would bring me misfortune."
+
+Benedetto uttered a cry of rage, and, grasping the pen, he seated
+himself at the table and wrote a few words.
+
+"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."
+
+Anselmo read, and the blood rushed to his head. He 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--"
+
+"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.
+
+"No nonsense," he sternly said, "either you write or I will send the
+notice to the papers to-morrow."
+
+The ex-priest took the pen and with a trembling hand wrote what
+Benedetto had asked of him.
+
+"Here," he said, in a choking voice, "swear to me--but no--you do not
+believe in anything--I--"
+
+"My dear friend," interrupted Benedetto, "do not take the thing so
+seriously. I have no intention of disturbing your peace."
+
+Anselmo sank upon a chair, and his eyes filled with hot tears.
+
+Benedetto hastily ran over the paper and his lips curled contemptuously
+when he saw the signature.
+
+"The fool wrote his own name," he murmured as he rubbed his hands, "may
+it do him good."
+
+The next minute the secretary of Count Vellini disappeared, and Anselmo
+breathed more freely.
+
+Suddenly an idea flew through his brain as his gaze fell upon the
+bank-notes.
+
+"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--"
+
+In desperation he walked up and down the room and disconnected words
+came from his lips.
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+"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."
+
+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!
+
+Uttering a cry he rushed out of the room and down the stairs, and, a
+prey to despair, hurried out into the dark night.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXIV
+
+A SHOT
+
+
+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.
+
+"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."
+
+Spero looked up in amazement. Buried in thought, he believed his friend
+had spoken to him, and so he said confusedly:
+
+"Excuse me, Gontram, I was thinking of something else and didn't catch
+your meaning."
+
+"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."
+
+"I do not understand," stammered Spero.
+
+"I believe you; but do you know that we are both in the same boat?"
+
+"How so?"
+
+"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."
+
+"A confession? Have you any debts? You know very well--"
+
+"That your purse is open to me I know, but I want to make a loan with
+your heart."
+
+"Speak quickly; what is the matter?"
+
+"It is about the solution of a problem which has already brought many a
+man to the brink of despair."
+
+"Gontram!"
+
+"Yes, look at me; it is unfortunately true. One of the most interesting
+chapters in Rabelais's 'Pantagruel' is devoted to the theme."
+
+Spero was not in the humor for any literary discussion, and so he firmly
+said:
+
+"If Rabelais handled this theme, he did it undoubtedly in a more worthy
+way than I could possibly have done."
+
+"H'm, Rabelais merely gives the question, but does not answer it."
+
+"You are speaking in riddles," said the vicomte, laughing, "and, as you
+know, I have very little acquaintance with practical life."
+
+"But you know 'Pantagruel'?"
+
+"Yes, but--"
+
+"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.'"
+
+"Ah, so that is the question you wish to place before me?" said Spero.
+
+"Yes."
+
+"But why do you come to me for my advice in such a delicate matter?"
+
+"Because I have confidence in you," replied the painter, warmly.
+
+"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."
+
+"Then you advise me to marry?"
+
+"If the woman you have selected is worthy to be your wife."
+
+For a time they were both silent, and then Spero continued:
+
+"I think marriage must be based upon unlimited mutual esteem."
+
+"You are right. You have, no doubt, observed that the young lady whom I
+conducted through the parlor this evening--"
+
+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:
+
+"The young lady has captivated me--"
+
+"Of which lady are you speaking?" asked the vicomte, uneasily.
+
+"Of the pretty blonde, Mademoiselle de Larsagny!"
+
+"Ah! she is certainly very handsome," cried Spero, breathing more
+freely.
+
+"Don't you think so?" exclaimed Gontram, enthusiastically. "That is the
+young lady I mean."
+
+"In that case I can only congratulate you on the choice you have made."
+
+"Thank you. Then you think Carmen de Larsagny charming?"
+
+"Yes. From what I have seen of the young lady she deserves the love of
+such a splendid fellow as you are."
+
+"If I were to obey the voice of love," said Gontram, "I would go to her
+now and say: 'I love you--be mine!'"
+
+"And why do you hesitate? You love her, do you not?"
+
+"I suppose so; Carmen is charming. This evening I was at the point of
+proposing--"
+
+"Well? and--"
+
+"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."
+
+"Such things are sometimes deceiving," said Spero.
+
+"That may be, but every time I think of a marriage with Carmen a feeling
+of uneasiness overcomes me."
+
+"That is merely nervous excitement."
+
+"I am in love and--"
+
+"Well, you hesitate?"
+
+"I have not told you everything yet. I committed an indiscretion."
+
+"Of what nature?"
+
+"I embraced Mademoiselle de Larsagny and kissed her."
+
+"Ah! and the young girl?"
+
+"Did not repulse me. Now shall I marry or not?"
+
+"What does your heart tell you?"
+
+"My heart is like Pantagruel. It knows no decided answer."
+
+"Good. If you follow my advice, marry the girl. A kiss between two good
+young people is as binding as an engagement."
+
+"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."
+
+"Perhaps it is her father, Monsieur de Larsagny, who does not inspire
+you with confidence?" said Spero after a pause.
+
+In the meantime the two friends reached the Arc de Triomphe and walked
+up and down the woods.
+
+"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."
+
+At this moment a shot sounded in the still night, and the friends stood
+still and looked at each other in surprise.
+
+"What was that?" cried Spero.
+
+"A shot, and, as I fear, a crime," said Gontram, softly.
+
+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.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXV
+
+WILL SHE LIVE?
+
+
+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:
+
+"Spero, where are you going with this corpse?"
+
+"She is not dead," replied the vicomte, tremblingly. "She lives; she
+must live--she dare not die!"
+
+"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.
+
+"Jane! Jane Zild?" stammered the painter, terror-stricken. "O my God!"
+
+They had now reached the Place de l'Etoile, and Gontram looked around
+for a carriage.
+
+"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."
+
+"Do so, Gontram, and hurry--every minute counts."
+
+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 Jane, and, hiding his face in his hands, he sobbed
+bitterly.
+
+Gontram now approached his friend.
+
+"Spero," he said, "calm yourself; we must rescue the poor child."
+
+The vicomte sprang up.
+
+"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."
+
+"She is no doubt wounded," said Gontram softly.
+
+"Yes, just hold a light here," cried the vicomte. "I will examine her. I
+have not studied medicine for nothing."
+
+The vicomte laid his ear to her bosom, and then said:
+
+"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."
+
+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:
+
+"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!"
+
+He pressed his lips upon her pale mouth, and with this kiss his soul was
+bound to that of the young girl.
+
+Gontram now returned; Spero opened the box and took an instrument from
+it.
+
+"Feel if my hand trembles," he said, turning to the painter; "only if
+that is not the case can I dare to probe for the bullet."
+
+Gontram took hold of the white hand. It did not tremble, and Spero began
+to probe for the bullet.
+
+"The ball has not touched a vital part," whispered the vicomte at
+length; "it lies in the muscles. I touched it with the instrument."
+
+"Do you think you can remove the bullet?" asked the painter.
+
+"I hope so."
+
+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.
+
+An anxious moment passed and then Spero triumphantly exclaimed:
+
+"Saved!"
+
+"Saved," repeated Gontram as he took the murderous lead from the
+vicomte's hand.
+
+"Then we can call the housekeeper," said Spero, after he had poured a
+liquid down the young girl's throat.
+
+He hurried out, and returned in less than five minutes with Madame
+Caraman.
+
+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 _coup d'état_ 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 no questions,
+but, with the vicomte's assistance, placed a bandage upon the young
+girl's wound and wished to discreetly retire.
+
+"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."
+
+Spero thereupon withdrew, while Jane Zild remained under the care of the
+good-hearted woman.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXVI
+
+MELOSAN'S SECRET
+
+
+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?
+
+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?
+
+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.
+
+He had reached the polygon and listened attentively. He heard steps, but
+not the right ones. Suppose Jane had committed suicide?
+
+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.
+
+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?
+
+What mysterious tie bound him to Jane Zild? the former galley-slave to
+the beautiful, talented creature?
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+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.
+
+Benedetto was thrown into the sea, and was rescued upon the island of
+Monte-Cristo.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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:
+
+"Let me go! I want to go for my daughter. I have nothing to do with you.
+Help, help!"
+
+Anselmo stood still. A woman was no doubt struggling with some men, and
+when her cries redoubled, he forgot his prudence and hurried toward the
+group.
+
+As he suspected, he found three drunken workmen trying to force a
+sixteen-year-old girl from the grasp of an elderly woman.
+
+The woman cried loudly for help and struck angrily around her. The young
+girl, however, silently defended herself.
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+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:
+
+"Oh, mother, mother! What is the matter with you? My God, she is dying!"
+
+This really seemed to be the case; the poor woman had become deathly
+pale, and sank to the ground.
+
+"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?"
+
+As simple as the question was, the girl appeared to be embarrassed by
+it.
+
+"Won't you tell me where you live?" said Anselmo, as the girl remained
+silent.
+
+"We do not live far from here, in the Rue Franchefoin."
+
+"I do not know that street."
+
+"Ah, I believe you," stammered the poor child, shuddering; "I shall
+proceed in advance."
+
+"Do so," said Anselmo.
+
+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.
+
+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:
+
+"Zilda has taken time. She stayed away a good two hours to get her
+daughter."
+
+"My mother is dangerously ill, perhaps dying," said the young girl in a
+sharp voice.
+
+"It won't be so serious," replied the woman, with a coarse laugh.
+
+"Have you not heard that the woman is dangerously ill?" said the
+ex-priest.
+
+"Is she sick?" asked the woman, coldly. "Well, if she dies, it won't be
+a great misfortune. I--"
+
+"Madame, for God's sake!" implored the young girl.
+
+"Show me to a room where I can lay the invalid down," said Anselmo
+roughly.
+
+"Yes, yes, directly. Follow me if you are in such a hurry," growled the
+woman.
+
+Just then two men who were intoxicated staggered into the hallway.
+
+"Ah, there is Zilda," cried one of them; "quick, old woman; come in and
+sing us a song."
+
+The woman opened a door and winked to the ex-priest to enter. The room
+was small and dirty. In the corner stood a slovenly bed upon which
+Anselmo deposited the invalid.
+
+"Is there a physician in the neighborhood?" he asked.
+
+"A physician? That is hardly worth the trouble," mocked the virago, "she
+is only drunk."
+
+The ex-priest took a five-franc piece from his pocket and said:
+
+"Get a physician, I insist upon it."
+
+The next minute the virago was on the way.
+
+Anselmo remained alone with the two women. The young girl sobbed
+silently, and the invalid remained motionless.
+
+"Mademoiselle," he began, "I think you might loosen your mother's dress;
+the fainting fit lasts rather long."
+
+The young girl looked at him, seeming not to understand.
+
+"She is your mother, is she not?"
+
+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:
+
+"No more, no water, leave me!"
+
+"Mother," said the young girl, "mother, it is I; do you not know me?"
+
+"No, I do not know who you are!" cried the invalid. "Away, I cannot sing
+to-day--my breast pains me. Oh--"
+
+"Oh, mother," sobbed the poor child.
+
+"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.
+
+Suddenly the delirious woman caught sight of Anselmo, and with a
+terrible cry she sprung at him with clinched fists.
+
+"There you are, you wretch," she hissed; "where have you put your black
+coat?"
+
+Just then the virago returned with the doctor.
+
+The latter looked contemptuously at her, and in a gruff voice said:
+
+"Lie down!"
+
+He then beat her bosom, counted her pulse, and shook his head.
+
+"Nothing can be done," he dryly declared; "her strength has been
+impaired by a fast and dissipated life, and--"
+
+"But, doctor," interrupted Anselmo, "have some compunction for the poor
+woman. You see she is conscious and understands every word."
+
+"Ah, you are probably a relative of hers, or has your warm interest in
+her some other ground?"
+
+"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."
+
+This threat had the desired effect. The doctor drew his note-book from
+his pocket, rapidly wrote a prescription, and went away.
+
+Anselmo took the prescription and hurried to the nearest drug-store. As
+he walked along the snow-covered streets, he muttered to himself:
+
+"Merciful God, do not punish me so hard!"
+
+When he returned he found the virago awaiting him at the door.
+
+"Monsieur," she said, "it seems that Zilda interests you."
+
+"Yes, like any other unhappy creature."
+
+"Well, I have her papers. Her name is Zild--Jane Zild."
+
+"Give them to me," said Anselmo, firmly; "I will take care of her."
+
+"May God reward you; the sooner you get her out of my house the happier
+I shall be."
+
+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.
+
+"Where can I look through them?" he asked, uneasily.
+
+"Oh, come into the kitchen."
+
+Anselmo accepted her invitation, and by the flickering light of a tallow
+candle he unfolded the yellow and withered papers.
+
+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.
+
+"The reading seems to overtax your strength," said the woman giggling.
+"Zilda has travelled a great deal, and maybe you have met her before."
+
+"I hardly think so," stammered Anselmo.
+
+In company with the virago, Anselmo re-entered the sick-room, and,
+laying his hand on the young girl's shoulder, he said:
+
+"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."
+
+"Not for any price," cried the little one in terror. "I cannot stay in
+this house overnight."
+
+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.
+
+"Good-night, mother," she said, sobbing.
+
+The woman looked vacantly at her and gave no sign of recognition of her
+daughter.
+
+"Do not wake your mother up," said Anselmo, hastily. "Sleep is necessary
+to her and I will call you if she asks for you."
+
+"Then you really intend to stay here?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Do you know us?"
+
+"No," stammered Anselmo; "but go to bed now, it is late."
+
+"You will surely call me?" asked the little one.
+
+"Certainly; go now and rely on me."
+
+She went, and Anselmo was alone with the invalid--the dying woman, as he
+shudderingly said to himself.
+
+From time to time the sick woman would wake up in her sleep and utter a
+low moan.
+
+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?
+
+Suddenly the invalid opened her big black eyes, and gazed at the
+ex-convict who was sitting by her bedside with folded hands.
+
+"How did you get here?" she asked, timidly.
+
+"You are sick, keep quiet; later on you shall learn everything,"
+replied Anselmo.
+
+"I am sick! Ha! ha! ha! I am cursed--cursed!" she cried.
+
+"Keep still; go to sleep," begged Anselmo, frightened. "No one has
+cursed you."
+
+"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!"
+
+The dying woman with trembling hands made the sign of the cross, and
+Anselmo groaned and moaned.
+
+"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.
+
+"'Why do you not come to confession?' he asked sternly.
+
+"'Because my father said I was too young, and have no sins to confess.'
+
+"'We are all sinners in God,' he earnestly replied. 'Do not forget that
+you will be eternally damned if you do not confess.'
+
+"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."
+
+Anselmo leaned his head against the hard bed-post and sobbed--they were
+the bitterest tears he had ever wept.
+
+"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.
+
+"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!"
+
+"Mercy," implored Anselmo. "Mercy, Jane!"
+
+"Ha! who--is it that--calls me?" stammered the dying woman, faintly. "I
+should know--that--voice!"
+
+"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?"
+
+But the invalid could not speak any more; she only nodded, and then
+closed her eyes forever.
+
+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.
+
+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:
+
+"God be thanked that your troubles are over, poor mother--now I can love
+you without blushing for you."
+
+Anselmo ordered a respectable funeral, and when he returned from the
+cemetery with the young girl he said with deep emotion:
+
+"Jane, I knew your mother--I promised her that I would look out for you.
+Will you stay with me?"
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+But Jane refused all offers from the managers, and when Anselmo
+reproached her she said, in bitter tones:
+
+"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!"
+
+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?
+
+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.
+
+When Anselmo heard the name of the Vicomte of Monte-Cristo, he
+recollected the oath which the convict Benedetto had sworn against the
+Count of Monte-Cristo.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"Jane--my child!" cried the despairing father; but when he reached the
+spot where he had seen the apparition it was empty.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+But the shore was still far away, the body lay heavy as lead on his left
+arm, and much as he tried to cleave 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?
+
+"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:
+
+"Help! help!"
+
+"Patience! Keep up a moment longer! I am coming!" came back in a loud
+voice.
+
+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.
+
+"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?"
+
+"Bring them to my house, Bobichel," said the other, a strong, handsome
+man, "and everything will be explained there."
+
+"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?"
+
+"She will at once prepare for everything," said Fanfaro, laughing.
+
+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.
+
+Five minutes later both the unfortunates lay in a comfortably warmed
+room, and Fanfaro, his wife, and Bobichel busily attended to them.
+
+"Who can they be?" asked Irene, gently, of her husband.
+
+"God knows," replied Fanfaro; "anyhow, I am glad that they both still
+live."
+
+But the woman Anselmo had rescued at the risk of his life was not Jane,
+but a gray-haired old lady.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXVII
+
+CARMEN
+
+
+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.
+
+"Aha, bah!" she muttered; "he shall tell me all."
+
+She rang a silver bell, and immediately after a maid appeared.
+
+"Where is Monsieur de Larsagny?"
+
+"In his office."
+
+"Since when?"
+
+"Since eight o'clock."
+
+"And what time is it now?"
+
+"Ten."
+
+"Good. Tell Jean to serve breakfast here in my boudoir, and then go and
+tell Monsieur de Larsagny that I await him."
+
+A quarter of an hour later the banker appeared in the boudoir.
+
+He ate so greedily that Carmen impatiently exclaimed:
+
+"Are you not yet satisfied?"
+
+"Really, I have a good appetite this morning," nodded Larsagny.
+
+"Do you know how your phenomenal appetite appears to me?" asked Carmen,
+laughing.
+
+"No. What do you mean?"
+
+"Well, I mean that you must have been starving at one time, and since
+then you always feel greedy."
+
+Larsagny shuddered and his brow contracted.
+
+"Do not speak of such things; I cannot bear it," he said, with a frown.
+
+"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--"
+
+"Carmen, be silent," said the banker, sternly; "you'll spoil my appetite
+if you talk so."
+
+"I should think your appetite would be stilled by this time. What you
+have already eaten would have fed an army."
+
+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:
+
+"So, now I can stand it for a little while."
+
+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.
+
+Carmen lighted a cigarette, and, leaning back in her chair, said:
+
+"I have something important to say to you."
+
+"What is it?" asked Larsagny.
+
+"Oh! different things," replied Carmen.
+
+"About money? Do not be timid."
+
+"It is not about money, but about an information."
+
+"An information?" asked the banker.
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Really, Carmen, you are speaking in riddles to-day--"
+
+"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?"
+
+"Ah! that's very simple; I am hungry."
+
+"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."
+
+"Carmen, how often have I told you that I do not like these
+reminiscences?"
+
+"Why not? Take an example from me, and tell me a little of your past."
+
+"Enough--enough!" cried Larsagny, growing pale.
+
+"Answer my questions, and then you shall have quiet."
+
+"Carmen, you are bothering yourself and me unnecessarily. I give you the
+assurance--"
+
+"As if your assurances had the slightest value for me," interrupted
+Carmen.
+
+Larsagny smiled in a sickly fashion.
+
+"Carmen, you are childish," he said. "I should think you ought to have
+known enough of me by this time to--"
+
+"To be able to hate you thoroughly. You have cheated me of my youth and
+innocence."
+
+"Carmen, for God's sake, not so loud! Suppose some one heard you?" cried
+the banker, anxiously.
+
+"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 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."
+
+"Carmen!"
+
+"Yes, yes, I know I am no better than you. Monsieur de Larsagny, tell me
+why you do not make me your wife?"
+
+"My God, because--"
+
+"Well? Why do you pause? Do you know what I believe? You are a married
+man with a dreadful past!"
+
+"Carmen, you are doing me an injury."
+
+"Ha! ha! If I do you a wrong, I am at the most too easy with you."
+
+"Carmen, what is the matter with you?" exclaimed Larsagny, in despair.
+"Only yesterday you were so affectionate, and now--"
+
+"Bah! Yesterday is yesterday, and to-day is to-day. Either I find out
+from you who you really are, or--"
+
+"Or?"
+
+"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."
+
+Larsagny had sprung up, and looking at Carmen in amazement, he
+stammered:
+
+"You--would--dare--to do--that?"
+
+"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."
+
+"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--"
+
+"Well, in spite of all that?"
+
+"I do not deserve your unjust accusations. Can you, for instance,
+reproach me for the hunger which bothers me continually?"
+
+"No, only I should like to learn the cause."
+
+"The cause?" repeated Larsagny.
+
+"Yes."
+
+"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.
+
+"'Can I get a meal here?' I asked of the bandit, who was swallowing some
+peas.
+
+"'Is your excellency hungry?' asked the fellow (his name was Peppino) in
+surprise.
+
+"I was angry.
+
+"'What!' I exclaimed in a rage, 'since twenty-four hours I have not
+eaten a thing, and you ask me if I am hungry.'
+
+"'Then you wish to eat?'
+
+"'Yes, at once, if it is possible.'
+
+"'If you pay for it.'
+
+"'I will pay what you ask,' I cried.
+
+"'What do you wish?'
+
+"'Anything, a chicken or a partridge.'
+
+"'Good. Let us say a chicken.'
+
+"'But have you a cook here?'
+
+"'Certainly,' nodded the bandit, and, raising his voice, he cried: 'A
+chicken for the gentleman.'
+
+"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.
+
+"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:
+
+"'Pardon me, your excellency, but we get paid here before things are
+eaten.'
+
+"I looked at him in astonishment.
+
+"'What does the chicken cost?' I asked.
+
+"'Five thousand louis d'ors, or one hundred thousand francs.'
+
+"'Are you crazy? One hundred thousand francs for a chicken?'
+
+"'Your excellency is not aware how hard it is to get chickens in this
+neighborhood.'"
+
+"Well, and how did the matter end?" asked Carmen.
+
+"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.
+
+"'How dear is the bread?' I asked, trembling.
+
+"'One hundred thousand francs.'
+
+"'What! A piece of bread one hundred thousand francs?' I cried in
+amazement.
+
+"'One hundred thousand francs.'
+
+"'But you asked no more for the chicken?'
+
+"'Prices here are fixed,' replied Peppino; 'pay and you can eat.'
+
+"'But with what should I pay?' I cried in desperation; 'the money I have
+with me--'
+
+"'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.'
+
+"I was astounded. The robbers knew exactly how much money I had, and I
+saw I had either to pay or to starve.
+
+"'Will I be able to eat in silence?' I asked, 'if I pay?'
+
+"'Certainly.'
+
+"'Good, then bring me some writing materials.'
+
+"I wrote out a draft on Rome for one hundred thousand francs, and
+received the chicken."
+
+"What was their motive?" asked Carmen.
+
+"Merely to plunder and blackmail me."
+
+"Then they demanded more?" asked Carmen.
+
+"Oh, no. After I had eaten the chicken, I felt thirsty. I called Peppina
+and told him.
+
+"'You wish to drink something?' he asked.
+
+"'Yes. I am dying with thirst.'
+
+"'I am very sorry to hear it. The wine this year is very bad and very
+dear.'
+
+"'Then bring me water,' I cried.
+
+"'Oh, water is still dearer.'
+
+"'Then give me a glass of wine.'
+
+"'We only sell by the bottle.'
+
+"'Then bring me a bottle of Orreto.'
+
+"'Directly.'
+
+"'And the wine costs?'
+
+"'Twenty-five thousand francs per bottle.'
+
+"'Swindler! Robber!' I cried, beside myself.
+
+"'Do not talk so loud, master might hear you.'
+
+"'I don't care. Who is your master?'
+
+"'Luigi Vampa.'
+
+"'Can I speak to him?'
+
+"'Yes.'
+
+"Peppino went away, and two minutes later a slimly built, fine-looking
+man, with dark hair and eyes, stood before me!
+
+"'You want to speak to me?' he asked, politely.
+
+"'Are you the chief of the people who brought me here?' I said.
+
+"'Yes.'
+
+"'What ransom do you wish of me?'
+
+"'Only the five million francs you possess.'
+
+"'Take my life,' I cried, 'but leave me my money.'
+
+"'Your death wouldn't do us any good,' replied the bandit, 'but your
+money would.'
+
+"'Take a million then?'
+
+"'No.'
+
+"'Two?'
+
+"'No.'
+
+"'Three?'
+
+"'No.'
+
+"'Four?'
+
+"'We leave haggling to usurers.'
+
+"'Then take everything from me and kill me!' I cried in despair.
+
+"'We do not wish to do that.'
+
+"'And suppose I die of hunger?'
+
+"'Then we are not responsible for that.'
+
+"'Keep your wine and I will keep my money.'
+
+"'Just as you please,' laughed Vampa, and went away.
+
+"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."
+
+"Yet I cannot understand why they should have wanted to torture you so.
+It must have been an act of revenge," said Carmen.
+
+"You are mistaken," replied Larsagny, "I fear no one and every one
+esteems me; I--"
+
+"One moment," interrupted Carmen, as she looked fixedly at the banker.
+"Why did you get frightened at the _soiree_ recently, when the servant
+announced the Vicomte of Monte-Cristo? I thought you feared no one,
+baron?"
+
+Larsagny stared at the young girl as if she had been a spectre. Carmen
+continued:
+
+"I have not finished yet. In the evening I stood on the terrace and
+heard these words:
+
+"'Monsieur de Larsagny, take care you do not learn my name too soon.'"
+
+"Ah, you are spying on me," cried Larsagny angrily; "have a care or--"
+
+"I do not fear you," said Carmen, calmly; "I will be the first to urge
+your punishment, if some suspicious circumstance should arise and--"
+
+"Be silent, wretched creature!" cried Larsagny angrily, "be silent,
+or--"
+
+He grasped a knife and rushed upon Carmen. The latter stared at him in
+such a way that he dropped the weapon and stammered:
+
+"Carmen, you will drive me crazy!"
+
+At this moment the door opened, and the servant brought in a card which
+he handed to Larsagny.
+
+"The gentleman is waiting in the parlor," he said; "will the baron
+receive him?"
+
+Before Larsagny could throw a look at the card, Carmen had grasped it.
+
+"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:
+
+"Signor Fagiano has no doubt come to tell the baron his name. Good luck
+to him!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXVIII
+
+RECOLLECTIONS
+
+
+Signor Fagiano stood in the beautiful parlor, and a malicious smile
+played about his lips.
+
+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:
+
+"Monsieur de Larsagny, I know your past."
+
+Larsagny had uttered a cry of terror.
+
+"If I am to remain silent," Fagiano had added, "I must have money."
+
+"But who are you?"
+
+Whereupon the answer had come:
+
+"Take care that you do not find out my name too soon."
+
+With inward fear the banker approached the Italian to-day.
+
+"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."
+
+"Call your servants, Monsieur de Larsagny. I have no fear of
+publicity," said Fagiano, boldly.
+
+The banker grasped the bell-rope, but let his hand fall again, and
+Fagiano, who noticed this, mockingly observed:
+
+"Why do you hesitate? Would you prefer to finish our interview without
+witnesses?"
+
+"Impudent puppy!" hissed Larsagny.
+
+"Do not get excited! Let us come to the point."
+
+"I have been waiting for that a long time," growled Larsagny; "tell me,
+first of all, who are you?"
+
+Fagiano drew nearer to the banker, and, grinning, said:
+
+"You really do not recognize me?"
+
+"No."
+
+The Italian laughed loudly.
+
+"Then give me two hundred thousand francs," said Fagiano, "and I will
+disappear forever."
+
+"I would be a fool to give an unknown person a single sou."
+
+"You really do not know my name, then?"
+
+"No."
+
+"H'm; but I know yours."
+
+"That isn't a great thing. My name is known on the street and at Court."
+
+"Yes, the name of Larsagny; as Monsieur Danglars you are also known,
+though in a different way."
+
+Larsagny trembled and was about to fall.
+
+"You lie!" he hissed.
+
+"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?"
+
+"Wretch, you will say nothing of the kind," cried 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.
+
+"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."
+
+"You are a fool," said Danglars, pale with rage. "You will never get a
+sou from me."
+
+"Have no fear about that; as soon as I threaten to expose you, you will
+submit; I have some piquant details _in petto_."
+
+"What do you mean by that?"
+
+"Well, I will announce your name at the same time as mine."
+
+"What has that got to do with me?"
+
+"More than you think. Don't you really know me?"
+
+"No."
+
+"So much the worse. But tell me, baron, is Carmen really your daughter?"
+
+"But--who--gives--you--the right--" said Danglars, stammering.
+
+"Next you will deny that you ever had a wife?"
+
+"Leave my wife's name alone."
+
+"Good. Then let us talk of your daughter who is much older and does not
+bear the name of Carmen."
+
+Danglars hid his face in his hands.
+
+"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."
+
+"Ah, now I know who you are," said the banker, springing up. "You are
+Andrea Cavalcanti."
+
+"Right," laughed Fagiano.
+
+"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."
+
+"Yes, I am Benedetto the murderer--Benedetto the criminal. But do you
+know who my father was?"
+
+"Yes, I heard about the scandalous trial; I was not in France at the
+time, but--Go on, you," urged Danglars.
+
+"And do you also know the name of my mother, baron?"
+
+"No."
+
+"Well, then, my mother was--the Baroness Danglars."
+
+"The miserable creature--the wretch!" cried Danglars, hoarsely. "But
+no--you lie, it cannot be so."
+
+"She was my mother," said Benedetto, accenting the word _was_.
+
+"She was? Is she dead?" asked Danglars, softly.
+
+"Yes, I killed her."
+
+"Horrible," groaned Danglars, wringing his hands.
+
+"If you want proofs," continued Benedetto, coldly, "here they are."
+
+He took Anselmo's writing out of his pocket and handed it to the banker.
+
+"Read," he said, indifferently.
+
+"What do you want from me?" murmured Danglars, hoarsely.
+
+"First, money, and then let us talk further."
+
+"You shall have what you want," replied Danglars.
+
+"Good; now comes the second point."
+
+"Do not torture me any longer," said Danglars.
+
+"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?"
+
+"Yes; but I fear our attempts will be fruitless."
+
+"Fruitless? I swear to you that we shall be successful."
+
+"But he is a supernatural man. You might as well attack God."
+
+"And yet he has an Achilles heel! Once more, will you help me?"
+
+"Yes; but I do not understand you."
+
+"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."
+
+"Now I understand you," said Danglars.
+
+"In the first place, you must give me money, and then wait until I call
+you."
+
+"And you guarantee that the grief will kill him?"
+
+"Yes, I guarantee it."
+
+"Then I am yours."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXIX
+
+DISAPPEARED
+
+
+Let us return to the Vicomte Spero.
+
+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.
+
+A slight moan from the invalid caused Mamma Caraman to bend over her.
+
+"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."
+
+Jane moaned louder and felt her heart with her hand.
+
+"Be still, my dear," whispered Mamma Caraman. She poured a few drops of
+liquor into a cup and told the girl to drink it.
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+In less than five minutes the vicomte appeared.
+
+"Is she worse?" he anxiously asked.
+
+"Yes, she is feverish again, and I thought it might be better to send
+for a physician."
+
+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.
+
+"She is sleeping," said Mamma Caraman, "I am sorry now that I called
+you."
+
+"On the contrary I am glad I came. I will take your place and you can
+sleep a little."
+
+"Not for the world," cried Mamma Caraman. "I am not tired at all."
+
+"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."
+
+Mamma Caraman thereupon laid herself upon a sofa, and the next minute
+she was fast asleep.
+
+An hour later the young girl opened her eyes and looked about her.
+
+"Where am I?" she murmured.
+
+"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?"
+
+The young girl listened as if in a dream, and unconsciously looked at
+the vicomte with sparkling eyes.
+
+"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."
+
+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:
+
+"Jane, I love you--love you dearly; Jane, my darling, tell me only once
+that you love me!"
+
+Jane looked silently at him and then buried her face in her hands,
+faintly murmuring:
+
+"Yes, Spero, I love you."
+
+"Thanks, my darling, for that word, and now I will leave you.
+Good-night, Jane--my Jane--oh, how I love you!"
+
+The vicomte left the room and Jane closed her tired eyes.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+The crazy woman sometimes became terribly excited. In such moments she
+sprang out of the bed, and hiding behind the door silently whined:
+
+"Spare me--I am your mother!"
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+Anselmo now began to groan. Fanfaro bent over the invalid, and thought
+he heard the words:
+
+"My daughter--my poor child--ah, is she dead?"
+
+"Who is dead?" asked Fanfaro.
+
+"Ah, she plunged into the water--she is drowned," groaned Anselmo.
+
+Fanfaro could not believe his ears. Did the sick man imagine that the
+gray-haired woman was his daughter?
+
+"Have you a daughter?" he asked.
+
+"Yes, my Jane--my darling."
+
+Just then the door opened, and Bobichel entered.
+
+"Well?" cried Fanfaro expectantly.
+
+"Ah, Fanfaro, a great misfortune!"
+
+"A misfortune? Does it concern the vicomte?"
+
+"Yes; he has disappeared."
+
+"But, Bobichel, why should that be a misfortune? Perhaps he went on a
+short journey."
+
+"No, both Coucou and Madame Caraman maintain that his disappearance is a
+misfortune."
+
+"Tell me all that has happened."
+
+"Then listen. On the evening that the vicomte came back from the
+_soiree_, he did not go home directly, but first took an opportunity to
+rescue a wounded girl."
+
+"A wounded girl?" repeated Fanfaro.
+
+"Yes, a young girl who had been shot in the breast. She was brought by
+the vicomte to his house."
+
+"I can hardly believe it," muttered Fanfaro.
+
+"Madame Caraman and Coucou are in the corridor; they will confirm my
+statement."
+
+"Bring them in."
+
+The next minute the Zouave and Caraman were in the room.
+
+"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.
+
+"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--"
+
+"What bothers me most," interrupted Coucou, "is the fact that the
+vicomte took his pistols along."
+
+Fanfaro became pensive.
+
+"Have you any idea how the young girl was wounded?" he asked after a
+pause, turning to Madame Caraman.
+
+"No, but Monsieur Sabran knows."
+
+"The painter? I shall go to him directly."
+
+"We have been to his house already, but he has not been home since this
+morning."
+
+"That is bad," murmured Fanfaro. "Do you know the lady's name?"
+
+"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.
+
+"Dear Mademoiselle Jane," Fanfaro read, and, penetrated by a
+recollection, he repeated aloud:
+
+"Jane--Mademoiselle Jane--if it is--but no--it can't be possible--"
+
+A loud cry from the invalid's couch made him pause. Anselmo had gotten
+up, and, gazing at Fanfaro, stammeringly repeated:
+
+"Jane--my Jane."
+
+"Do you know the young lady?" cried Fanfaro.
+
+"Certainly. Then it wasn't she whom I rescued from the river?"
+
+"No; but for God's sake calm yourself," said Fanfaro, as he saw Anselmo
+make a motion to spring out of bed.
+
+"I could have imagined that the return of that scoundrel, Benedetto,
+would bring me misfortune!" cried Anselmo, with flaming eyes.
+
+"Benedetto--who speaks of Benedetto?" asked a hoarse voice.
+
+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.
+
+"Merciful God, where does she come from?" he groaned in terror. "Has the
+grave given up its dead?"
+
+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:
+
+"The galley-slave--he--Toulon--the Bagnio--oh! 'tis he!"
+
+Anselmo trembled, and could not turn his eyes away from the old lady,
+who now wildly called:
+
+"Benedetto! Who mentioned his name? I want to know it!"
+
+"What can this mean?" whispered Fanfaro, shuddering.
+
+"I will acknowledge everything," stammered Anselmo, and hanging his head
+down he told how he had been a galley-slave at Toulon.
+
+"Who wounded you?" he then asked, turning to the crazy woman.
+
+"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!"
+
+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:
+
+"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!"
+
+She left the room and those who had remained behind looked confusedly at
+one another.
+
+"I do not understand everything," said Anselmo, 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."
+
+"Do you know it positively?" asked Fanfaro uneasily.
+
+Anselmo then related all he knew, and only kept silent with regard to
+the fact of his being Jane's father.
+
+Fanfaro listened attentively to his words, and then said:
+
+"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--"
+
+"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!"
+
+"Let us hope for the best," said Fanfaro, earnestly; "forward then with
+God for Monte-Cristo and his son!"
+
+"And for my Jane," muttered Anselmo to himself. "God in heaven take my
+life, but save hers!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XL
+
+A CONFESSION
+
+
+Gontram was in love; night and day he only thought of Carmen.
+
+"Either she or no one," he said to himself.
+
+One morning, as he was returning home from a visit, the janitor
+addressed him.
+
+"Monsieur Sabran," he said, "I have something to tell you."
+
+"Well, what is it?" asked Gontram, expectantly.
+
+"H'm, Monsieur Sabran, it is about a lady," murmured the man.
+
+"A lady? Which lady?"
+
+"I do not know her, and my discretion did not permit me to ask her."
+
+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.
+
+"Monsieur Alain, won't you tell me what the lady wanted of me?" asked
+the painter.
+
+"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."
+
+"Where is the letter?"
+
+"Here, Monsieur Sabran," said the janitor, taking a perfumed note from
+his pocket and handing it to the painter.
+
+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:
+
+
+     "MONSIEUR GONTRAM--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.
+
+                                                        "CARMEN."
+
+
+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?
+
+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.
+
+"The lady is waiting," she said.
+
+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.
+
+"Thank you," she said, offering her hand to the painter. "I hardly dared
+to hope you would come."
+
+"You sent for me, and I have come," replied Gontram.
+
+"Please sit down and listen to me."
+
+Gontram took a seat next to Carmen.
+
+"Monsieur Gontram, do you love me?" she suddenly asked.
+
+Gontram trembled.
+
+"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--"
+
+"Oh, keep still--keep still!"
+
+"But, Mademoiselle Carmen," said Gontram, "you know you can rely on me!"
+
+For a time they were both silent.
+
+"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?"
+
+"Yes!" cried Gontram.
+
+"And yet," said Carmen, slowly, "you postponed asking Monsieur de
+Larsagny for my hand."
+
+"I did not dare--"
+
+"Thank God that you did not do it," cried Carmen, breathing more freely.
+"No, Gontram, I can never--never be your wife!"
+
+Gontram sprang up.
+
+"Impossible, Carmen!" he cried, passionately. "Tell me that you are
+joking!"
+
+"No, Gontram, I am not joking," said Carmen, earnestly. "I can never
+become your wife. Only an honest girl has the right to put her hand in
+yours."
+
+"Explain yourself more clearly," said Gontram, deadly pale.
+
+"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."
+
+Carmen sank exhausted in a chair and burst into tears.
+
+"Carmen, why do you cry?"
+
+"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!"
+
+Gontram uttered a wild cry, and, beating his face with his hands, he
+gasped for air; the shot had struck him to the heart.
+
+"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."
+
+Carmen had fallen to the floor. Clutching Gontram's knee she wept
+bitterly.
+
+Gontram felt deep pity for her. He placed his hand on her hair, and
+gently said:
+
+"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!"
+
+"You do not curse me? Do not cast me off?" asked Carmen, in surprise.
+
+"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."
+
+Carmen's tears still poured down. Gontram bent over her and tenderly
+raised her up.
+
+"Carmen," he earnestly said, "tell me, what can I do for you?"
+
+Carmen raised her eyes, which were still full of tears, and tenderly
+whispered to the young man:
+
+"How good you are! Do you love the Vicomte of Monte-Cristo?" she
+suddenly asked.
+
+"I love and esteem him. But what makes you speak of the vicomte?"
+
+"Because danger threatens him, and I want you to warn him."
+
+"What is the nature of the danger?" asked Gontram.
+
+"Powerful enemies are united against him, and if we are not more prudent
+they will crush both him and us."
+
+"Enemies! Who could be an enemy of Spero?"
+
+"One of the enemies is Monsieur de Larsagny!"
+
+"And the other?"
+
+"Have you noticed the Count of Vellini's secretary?"
+
+"Signor Fagiano? Yes, I know him."
+
+"Fagiano is not his real name."
+
+"Do you know it?"
+
+"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
+_soiree_ the other evening, Monsieur de Larsagny became pale as death,
+his eyes stared at the young man as if he had been a spectre, and,
+under pretence of seeking a cooler spot, he hurriedly left the room."
+
+"Yes, I remember," said Gontram.
+
+"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:
+
+"'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.'
+
+"'Here is what I promised you,' replied Larsagny.
+
+"I heard the crumpling of bank-notes. For a while all was still, and
+then Monsieur de Larsagny said:
+
+"'What do you intend to do now?'
+
+"'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.'
+
+"'But be careful, the slightest haste might ruin us.'
+
+"'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.'
+
+"'Then I am satisfied. Ah, if he only suffers for one hour the tortures
+his father made me undergo,' hissed Larsagny.
+
+"'You shall be satisfied. I have also a debt to settle with him.'
+
+"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."
+
+"I thank you, Carmen," cried Gontram; "Spero is a friend, a brother, and
+I would gladly offer up my life to save his."
+
+"Of whom could Fagiano have spoken when he said: 'She is in my power?'"
+asked Carmen.
+
+"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.
+
+"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!"
+
+"Oh, Gontram, I do not deserve so much kindness," sobbed Carmen.
+
+"Now good-by," said Gontram. "You shall soon hear from me."
+
+A last kiss and they separated.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLI
+
+ON THE TRAIL
+
+
+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.
+
+The footman opened it. When asked if the vicomte was at home, he said he
+had gone out.
+
+"Gone out? Will he soon return?" asked Gontram.
+
+"We do not know."
+
+"H'm! Can I speak to Madame Caraman?"
+
+"She is also out."
+
+"And the Zouave Coucou?"
+
+"He has gone out, too; and none of them has yet returned."
+
+Just then a carriage rolled up, and Madame Caraman and Coucou got out,
+followed by Fanfaro and Anselmo.
+
+"Ah, here is Monsieur Gontram," cried Madame Caraman, joyfully, as she
+caught sight of the painter.
+
+"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 Monte-Cristo and his son. I fear all is not right with our
+friends."
+
+"Why not? What has happened?" asked Gontram.
+
+"You shall soon find out, but first let us go inside."
+
+With these words Fanfaro preceded the others and entered the vestibule.
+The footman ran to him and anxiously cried:
+
+"Monsieur Fanfaro, the vicomte is not at home."
+
+"I know it."
+
+Turning to Coucou, he said:
+
+"Can you remember when the vicomte left the house?"
+
+"Last night."
+
+"About what time?"
+
+"I do not know, I was asleep."
+
+"And I too," sobbed Madame Caraman.
+
+"Coucou, please tell the footman to come here."
+
+The footman came immediately.
+
+"When did Vicomte Spero leave the house?" asked Fanfaro, turning to the
+man.
+
+"I--I--do not know," stammered the footman.
+
+"You do not know when the vicomte went out?"
+
+"I--that is--well, the vicomte did leave the house, but he returned
+within an hour."
+
+"Then he must be in the house?" they all repeated.
+
+"I do not know. He has not left it."
+
+"How do you know?" asked Coucou. "The vicomte might have gone out by way
+of the garden."
+
+"That is not possible," declared the footman. "I locked the gate myself
+yesterday while the vicomte was in his study."
+
+"We must search every nook and corner," said Gontram.
+
+"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."
+
+Coucou disappeared, but soon returned, accompanied by Bobichel.
+
+"I am glad you've come, Bobichel," exclaimed Fanfaro. "We have some fine
+detective work to do here, and that was always your hobby."
+
+"What is it?" asked Bobichel.
+
+Fanfaro told him the whole story in a few words.
+
+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.
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+Suddenly Fanfaro's eye rested on a small white spot in the blue,
+decorated wall. Drawing near to the spot, he saw that a small piece of
+white silk had been pressed in an almost imperceptible crack.
+
+"Bobichel, your knife," cried Fanfaro, breathlessly.
+
+"Master," said Bobichel, modestly, "there is a secret door there, and
+they generally have a spring attached to them."
+
+"You are right," replied Fanfaro, "but how discover the spring?"
+
+"I think," remarked Gontram, "that the spring is under one of the small
+blue buttons with which the wall is decorated. Let us search."
+
+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.
+
+"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."
+
+"So be it," cried Fanfaro, "and then, in Heaven's name, forward!"
+
+Gontram had in the meanwhile sent a note with Coucou to Carmen.
+
+Each one of the three carried a three-armed bronze lamp, and the light
+they gave forth illuminated the marble steps of a staircase.
+
+Gontram was the first to reach the top stair. At the 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.
+
+"We cannot return," said Fanfaro finally, "therefore forward with God's
+help."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLII
+
+THE TRAP
+
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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 before him. Without hesitating, he walked down
+the marble staircase; the door closed behind him, and he found himself
+on strange ground.
+
+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.
+
+A room furnished in dark red silk lay before the vicomte.
+
+On a black marble table Spero espied an open letter.
+
+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 _deus ex machina_--as
+Edmond Dantes, Count of Monte-Cristo and Lord Wilmore.
+
+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:
+
+
+     "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."
+
+
+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.
+
+Was the pale man with the deep blue rings about his eyes the
+twenty-one-year-old son of the great count?
+
+"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!"
+
+He pulled out his two pistols and examined them, and with a soft, tender
+"Father, help me," he left the secret chamber.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLIII
+
+THE PATH OF THORNS
+
+
+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."
+
+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.
+
+"I wonder whether he will come," he muttered to himself.
+
+At this moment a slight noise was heard outside. A knock came at the
+door.
+
+"Who's there?" asked the man roughly.
+
+"Does a man named Malvernet live here?" came back in reply.
+
+"Yes. Come right in."
+
+Spero entered, his clothes dripping wet, and blue-black hair hanging
+over his forehead.
+
+"My name is Malvernet," said the other sharply; "what do you wish?"
+
+"Do you know me?" he asked in a firm tone.
+
+"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."
+
+"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."
+
+A mocking laugh came from the man's lips.
+
+"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."
+
+"Robbers entered my house last night and robbed me of the dearest jewel
+I possess--a young girl whom I love."
+
+"What's her name?"
+
+"Jane! You promised to obey my orders, and I only ask you to lead me to
+Jane."
+
+"And if I refuse?"
+
+"Then I will kill you."
+
+"Ha! ha! ha!" laughed the man, "that is well said."
+
+"Do you refuse to obey me?"
+
+"I did not say that. You need me, while I can get along without you. The
+game is therefore unequal."
+
+"You are right, and I beg you to forgive me."
+
+"Well then, vicomte, what do you command?"
+
+"Then you really wish to help me?"
+
+"Follow me," said Benedetto (for he was the man), as he opened a door.
+
+"Anywhere," cried Spero, "if I can only find Jane again."
+
+"I will go on in advance, and follow me closely, for the night is pitch
+dark and we might lose each other."
+
+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?
+
+For a time the criminal and his company walked on in silence.
+
+Suddenly it appeared to Spero as if the end of the way had been reached,
+and, pausing, he asked:
+
+"Where are we?"
+
+"On the banks of the Seine; in a few minutes we will be at the place."
+
+"My poor Jane," murmured Spero, "how terrible it is to look for you in
+this deserted quarter."
+
+"Are you afraid?" asked Benedetto mockingly.
+
+Spero did not answer the impudent question.
+
+"Go on," he coldly said.
+
+Benedetto turned into a narrow path. Suddenly he stopped short and said:
+
+"Here we are!"
+
+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.
+
+"Is this really the house?" asked the vicomte, unconsciously shuddering.
+
+"Yes."
+
+"It looks like a low den, and who guarantees me that I am not being led
+into a trap?"
+
+"Vicomte of Monte-Cristo," replied Benedetto, "if I desired to murder
+you I could have done so long ago."
+
+"You are right."
+
+Just then coarse laughter and the noise of a falling body came from the
+inside of the house.
+
+"Let us go into the house," cried Spero excitedly. "God knows what may
+be going on there."
+
+Benedetto shoved his arm under the vicomte's and opening the door said:
+
+"You will find more here than will please you."
+
+They both entered a dark corridor now, the door fell back in the lock
+and Spero asked:
+
+"Where are we?"
+
+"On the spot," mockingly said Benedetto.
+
+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:
+
+"The wretch has ensnared me in a trap."
+
+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!
+
+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.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLIV
+
+THE PASHA
+
+
+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.
+
+The Zouave entered a restaurant opposite, ordered a bottle of wine, and
+began a conversation with the waiter.
+
+"What is going on to-day in the Larsagny palace?" he asked.
+
+"Oh, the banker is giving a great ball," said the waiter.
+
+"He is very rich, I suppose."
+
+"Enormously so."
+
+At this moment a soldier entered the restaurant and, approaching the
+waiter, asked:
+
+"Can you not tell me, good friend, where Monsieur de Larsagny lives?"
+
+"About a hundred feet away in that brilliantly illuminated house--you
+cannot miss it."
+
+"Thanks," said the soldier. As he was about to turn away, a well-known
+voice cried to him:
+
+"Well, Galoret, what do the dear Bedouins do now?"
+
+"Hello, Coucou--where do you hail from?" cried the soldier, joyously.
+
+"Rather tell me where you come from?"
+
+"Ah, I have been only three days in Paris."
+
+"What business have you in the Larsagny palace?" he asked.
+
+"Oh, I must deliver a letter."
+
+"So must I; from whom, if I may ask?"
+
+"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--"
+
+"Does he know the banker?" interrupted Coucou.
+
+"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."
+
+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:
+
+"Look at those fools. How they stare at you. One would think they had
+never seen a Chasseur d'Afrique."
+
+"Impertinent scoundrels," growled Galoret, and, turning to the
+gentlemen, he cried in an angry tone of voice:
+
+"You boobies, have you looked at my uniform long enough?"
+
+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.
+
+Policemen now interfered. Galoret and two others with bloody heads were
+locked up, and then only did the chasseur remember his errand.
+
+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."
+
+"Now I can enter the Larsagny palace," he said to himself; "as the pasha
+they will admit me."
+
+Coucou jumped into a carriage and told the coachman to drive to the Rue
+de Pelletier.
+
+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:
+
+"Rue de Rivoli, Palais Larsagny!"
+
+The horses started off, the carriage rolled along, and the Bedouin, in
+whose turban a ruby glittered, muttered to himself:
+
+"One can get through the world with cheek!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLV
+
+HOW CARMEN KEEPS HER WORD
+
+
+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:
+
+"What does this mean, Carmen? Our guests will soon be here, and you are
+not yet dressed."
+
+"Our guests?" repeated Carmen, in amazement.
+
+"Yes. Have you forgotten that the ball for which you yourself sent out
+invitations ten days ago, takes place to-night?"
+
+"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."
+
+"But, Carmen, what shall we do if you do not appear?"
+
+"That is not my affair," replied Carmen, laconically.
+
+The banker ran his hands through his hair in despair.
+
+"Carmen, be reasonable," he implored, as he tried to take her hand.
+
+"Don't touch me," said Carmen.
+
+Larsagny bit his lips.
+
+"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."
+
+Carmen became pensive. Perhaps it might be better if she took part in
+the ball; she might hear something of interest to Gontram.
+
+"Well, if you desire it, I will appear, but under one condition," she
+said, coldly.
+
+"Name it."
+
+"I demand that you shall not present me to any one as your daughter."
+
+"But what shall I say?"
+
+"Anything else. And now go, I must make my toilet."
+
+"Carmen, I have one more favor to ask of you."
+
+"Well?"
+
+"I must leave the house about twelve o'clock for one or more hours--"
+
+"He lies," thought Carmen to herself.
+
+"To do this," continued Larsagny, "I must pretend some sudden sickness.
+You will have me brought to my room, and then--"
+
+"Since when are the bankers and the money-brokers at night in their
+offices?" asked Carmen.
+
+"But--"
+
+"Do you mean to tell me that you have business on the Bourse at
+midnight?"
+
+"Carmen, I swear to you that--"
+
+"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."
+
+Larsagny trembled, but he tried to smile, and with a hasty _au revoir_
+he went away.
+
+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.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The greatest names of the empire had been announced by the lackeys.
+
+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.
+
+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:
+
+"Pretty woman."
+
+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.
+
+"Ah, pretty, pretty," repeated the Mussulman, and the banker, his face
+lighted up with joy, said:
+
+"May I introduce her?"
+
+Mohammed nodded.
+
+Carmen bowed politely when the introduction was made, and said nothing.
+Omar offered her his arm, and murmured as he pointed to some pictures.
+
+"Allah il Allah. I come from the painter Gontram. Mohammed resoul il
+Allah."
+
+"The pasha evidently wishes you to show him the picture-gallery," said
+Larsagny.
+
+"Then come," said the young girl to the Oriental.
+
+As soon as Omar was alone with his companion, he whispered:
+
+"Pardon me, I have to speak to you."
+
+"Who are you?" asked Carmen.
+
+"A friend, a former Zouave in the service of the Count of Monte-Cristo."
+
+"Well, what have you?"
+
+"A note from the painter Gontram."
+
+"Give it to me--quickly."
+
+Coucou drew the letter from the folds of his bernouse and gave it to the
+young girl. It read as follows:
+
+
+     "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.
+
+                                           "In great haste,
+
+                                                     "G. S."
+
+
+Carmen breathed more freely after she had read the lines.
+
+"Well?" said the Zouave, expectantly.
+
+"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?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"If I have occasion to go there will I be admitted?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+At this moment a servant rushed into the parlor and exclaimed:
+
+"Mademoiselle, Monsieur de Larsagny has suddenly become ill."
+
+"I shall come soon," said Carmen, coldly, and nodding to Coucou, she
+went away.
+
+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.
+
+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:
+
+
+     "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.
+
+                                                              "C."
+
+
+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.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLVI
+
+IN COURBEVOIE
+
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+Spero breathed more freely, and, beside himself, he called:
+
+"Jane! Jane! come to me!"
+
+At the rear of the hall a door opened, and Spero recognized in a man who
+crossed the threshold--Monsieur de Larsagny.
+
+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:
+
+"Jane, my darling, do you not know me? I am--Monte-Cristo."
+
+"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.
+
+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.
+
+Jane still lay motionless in Spero's arms. The vicomte called
+despairingly for help, but none came.
+
+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.
+
+The effect was instantaneous. Jane uttered a deep sigh, and looked at
+the young man with returning consciousness.
+
+"Spero!" she cried. "You here in this terrible place? Oh, go--go away;
+you must not stay here."
+
+"Jane, I have come to take you with me."
+
+"No!--oh, no! I am accursed! I must not accompany you!" sobbed the young
+girl.
+
+"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!"
+
+"Not for any price," groaned Jane. "Go--leave this place, and let me
+die! I cannot live any longer--the shame kills me."
+
+"Jane, do not speak so. Jane, my Jane, do you really refuse to accompany
+me?"
+
+"God forgive me if I do wrong; I cannot leave you," she murmured, as she
+threw herself into the young man's arms.
+
+But at this moment the coarse songs sounded again, and a man entered the
+hall. It was Benedetto!
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLVII
+
+THE DEVOTED
+
+
+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.
+
+"What is the meaning of this?" she asked. "I think that we have more
+serious things to think of than masquerading."
+
+"Come, do not speak before you know everything," replied the Zouave; and
+in a few words he told her the story of his disguise.
+
+"Where can Monsieur Sabran be?" asked Madame Caraman.
+
+"What!" exclaimed Coucou, "where is he then?"
+
+"I haven't seen him, nor Fanfaro, nor Bobichel since."
+
+"Impossible! Are they still in Jane's room?"
+
+"Perhaps."
+
+"I cannot understand it, and--"
+
+A hollow noise caused Coucou to keep silent. He and Madame Caraman
+looked at each other in terror.
+
+"What can that be?" asked Madame Caraman.
+
+Before Coucou could answer the question, the noise was repeated.
+
+"The noise comes from the right side," said Coucou, who had been
+listening; "let us hurry to Gontram and Fanfaro, and call their
+attention to it."
+
+Mamma Caraman nodded, and they both went to Jane's room.
+
+It was empty!
+
+"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."
+
+"What are you going to do?"
+
+"Break down the house if necessary," said Coucou, beginning to trample
+upon the floor.
+
+"But you are ruining the carpet!" cried Mamma Caraman.
+
+The sound of the door-bell at this minute prevented Coucou from
+replying. In front of the door stood Carmen.
+
+"Thank Heaven you have come, mademoiselle."
+
+"You haven't found Gontram yet?"
+
+"No."
+
+"Monsieur Gontram and his comrades are in subterranean chambers in this
+house."
+
+"Knock at the walls, Coucou," said Madame Caraman, "and then we can wait
+for an answer."
+
+Coucou knocked three times with a hammer against the wall. At the end of
+the second knock came back in answer twenty-five.
+
+"What does that mean?" asked Coucou, in affright.
+
+"I know," cried Carmen; "twenty-five knocks signify the letters of the
+alphabet!"
+
+"Then we must answer to show that we understand the language," said
+Madame Caraman. "Coucou--quick--twenty-five knocks."
+
+The Zouave did as he was told, and the answer came back in one knock
+which meant "yes."
+
+Nine further knocks followed.
+
+"I," said Carmen.
+
+Nineteen knocks.
+
+"S," whispered Carmen.
+
+Seven knocks.
+
+"G."
+
+Ten knocks.
+
+"J."
+
+Two knocks.
+
+"B."
+
+Twenty knocks.
+
+"T."
+
+Carmen now read the meaning of this:
+
+"There is an iron door under the wall decoration."
+
+Coucou soon found the secret door.
+
+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.
+
+"In Courbevoie!" cried Gontram. "How shall we find Spero there?"
+
+"I know the house," said Carmen; "it belongs to the banker, and I
+believe we shall find the vicomte there."
+
+"May God grant it."
+
+Ten minutes later they were all on the road to Courbevoie.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLVIII
+
+UNITED IN DEATH
+
+
+When Benedetto entered the hall he was neither Malvernet, Cavalcanti or
+Fagiano. He was simply Benedetto.
+
+"Whoever you are," cried the vicomte, "I implore you to help me bring
+this poor child out of here."
+
+"Vicomte," replied Benedetto, coldly, "I will not help you, and you'll
+not bring this woman away from here."
+
+"I will shoot you down like a dog," said Spero, contemptuously.
+
+With these words he pulled out a pistol and held it toward Benedetto.
+
+"You wish to commit murder, vicomte!"
+
+"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--"
+
+"The poor innocent child," interrupted the ex-convict. "You told me it
+was brought here against its will!"
+
+"Scoundrel, you lie!" cried Spero, angrily.
+
+Benedetto laughed coarsely.
+
+"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?"
+
+"Mercy," cried Jane, throwing herself at Benedetto's feet. "Mercy!"
+
+"Jane Zild, shall I tell the vicomte who your father was?"
+
+"My father?" stammered Jane, confused.
+
+"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."
+
+"Miserable scoundrel," cried Spero, "you lie! If you have weapons, let
+us fight. Only one of us dare leave this room alive."
+
+"Just my idea," said Benedetto, as he took two swords from under his
+cloak. "Choose, and now _vogue ma galere_."
+
+"The motto is no doubt derived from your past," said Spero.
+
+"You shall pay for that, boy," hissed Benedetto as he placed himself in
+position.
+
+A hot struggle ensued, and Benedetto was finally driven against the
+wall.
+
+"Wretch!" exclaimed Spero, "your life is in my hands; beg for mercy, or
+I shall stab you through the heart."
+
+"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!"
+
+"Then die," replied Spero, and with a quick movement he knocked
+Benedetto's sword out of his hand and made a lunge at him!
+
+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.
+
+How had this horrible thing happened?
+
+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!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The moment Spero breathed his last, loud cries were heard throughout the
+house, and many voices called Spero's name.
+
+Benedetto grew pale. How could he save himself? Only one way was left to
+him, and he hesitated to carry it out.
+
+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!"
+
+Fanfaro, Gontram, Carmen, Bobichel and Coucou now hurried into the hall.
+Benedetto looked at them with flaming eye, and mockingly cried:
+
+"You are too late! I have killed Monte-Cristo's son!"
+
+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:
+
+"Too late! Too late! Oh, poor, poor father!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLIX
+
+THE SPECTRE
+
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+Anselmo had really lost courage. He had the greatest 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.
+
+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:
+
+"Benedetto--my son! Benedetto--wait for me!"
+
+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.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+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:
+
+"Jane!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER L
+
+
+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.
+
+They were all dead--Danglars, Villefort, Mondego, Caderousse and
+Benedetto--but Monte-Cristo was alive to close the eyes of his dearly
+beloved son.
+
+Mockery of fate! The two men who watched the corpses waited with anxiety
+for the moment when the Count of Monte-Cristo should enter.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+The third day dawned, and Gontram and Fanfaro looked anxiously at each
+other. To-day the count must come.
+
+Toward evening the door was suddenly opened. 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.
+
+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.
+
+
+
+
+EPILOGUE
+
+THE ABBE DANTES
+
+
+Fifty years ago a solitary man stood on a lonely rock.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+Then the man stood erect; he glanced wildly around him toward all the
+four quarters of the globe, and cried aloud:
+
+"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."
+
+About whom was this solitary man speaking? He did not yet know, but he
+was soon to discover it.
+
+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.
+
+Then he was suddenly arrested. He was accused of transmitting letters to
+the Emperor Napoleon, then a prisoner on the Island of Elba.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+He then left the island to accomplish the revenge he had sworn.
+
+He found that his father had died of starvation and that Mercedes had
+married another. Who was this other one?
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+His worst enemy was Villefort, who had now become the procureur du roi
+at Paris.
+
+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?
+
+Danglars was his first victim. He ruined him and made him suffer the
+pangs of hunger which Edmond's father had suffered.
+
+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.
+
+He looked up Mondego's past history. The latter had 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:
+
+"Look at me well, Fernand, and you will understand it all. I am Edmond
+Dantes."
+
+Then De Morcerf fled, and an hour afterward blew out his brains.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+It was ten years since Monte-Cristo, on that fearful night, bore off
+the corpse of his only son.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+All these years Monte-Cristo had lived on herbs and roots. He had sworn
+never to touch money again while he lived.
+
+One night Monte-Cristo entered the subterranean cave where the marble
+sarcophagus of his son was:
+
+"Spero," he earnestly said, "is it time?"
+
+A long silence ensued. Then--was it a reality?--Spero's lips appeared to
+move and utter the word:
+
+"Come."
+
+"I thought so," muttered the Count. "I shall come, my child, as soon as
+my affairs are settled."
+
+He took a package from his pocket, and unfolding it read it aloud:
+
+
+                        "MY LAST WILL AND TESTAMENT
+
+     "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, 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.
+
+     "Will the money be found?
+
+     "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.
+
+                                              "THE ABBÉ DANTES."
+
+        "February 25th, 1865."
+
+
+Below this signature was a curious design. Monte-Cristo examined it.
+
+"Ah, Faria!" he exclaimed, "may your money fall into better hands than
+mine!"
+
+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.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+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?
+
+
+THE END
+
+
+
+***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE SON OF MONTE-CRISTO, VOLUME II
+(OF 2)***
+
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+<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>&nbsp;</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>&nbsp;</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>&nbsp;</p>
+<hr class="full" />
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+
+<p class="tbrk">&nbsp;</p>
+
+<h3>THE WORKS OF</h3>
+
+<h2>ALEXANDRE DUMAS</h2>
+
+<h3>IN THIRTY VOLUMES</h3>
+
+<p class="tbrk">&nbsp;</p>
+
+<p class="center"><img src="images/002-1.png" width='31' height='40' alt="logo" /></p>
+
+<p class="tbrk">&nbsp;</p>
+
+<h1>THE SON OF MONTE-CRISTO</h1>
+
+<h3>VOLUME TWO</h3>
+
+<p class="tbrk">&nbsp;</p>
+
+<p class="center"><img src="images/002-1.png" width='31' height='40' alt="logo" /></p>
+
+<p class="tbrk">&nbsp;</p>
+
+<h3>ILLUSTRATED WITH DRAWINGS ON WOOD<br />BY EMINENT FRENCH AND AMERICAN ARTISTS</h3>
+
+<p class="tbrk">&nbsp;</p>
+
+<p class="center"><img src="images/002-2.png" width='139' height='150' alt="publishers logo" /></p>
+
+<p class="tbrk">&nbsp;</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">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;<a href="#CHAPTER_I">I.</a></span>&nbsp;&nbsp;FANFARO'S ADVENTURES</li>
+<li><span class="mono">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;<a href="#CHAPTER_II">II.</a></span>&nbsp;&nbsp;THE GOLDEN SUN</li>
+<li><span class="mono">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;<a href="#CHAPTER_III">III.</a></span>&nbsp;&nbsp;OLD AND NEW ACQUAINTANCES</li>
+<li><span class="mono">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;<a href="#CHAPTER_IV">IV.</a></span>&nbsp;&nbsp;BROTHER AND SISTER</li>
+<li><span class="mono">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;<a href="#CHAPTER_V">V.</a></span>&nbsp;&nbsp;MASTER AND SERVANT</li>
+<li><span class="mono">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;<a href="#CHAPTER_VI">VI.</a></span>&nbsp;&nbsp;THE PERFORMANCE</li>
+<li><span class="mono">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;<a href="#CHAPTER_VII">VII.</a></span>&nbsp;&nbsp;PIERRE LABARRE</li>
+<li><span class="mono">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;<a href="#CHAPTER_VIII">VIII.</a></span>&nbsp;&nbsp;A MEETING</li>
+<li><span class="mono">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;<a href="#CHAPTER_IX">IX.</a></span>&nbsp;&nbsp;THE GRATITUDE OF A NOBLEMAN</li>
+<li><span class="mono">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;<a href="#CHAPTER_X">X.</a></span>&nbsp;&nbsp;ESCAPED</li>
+<li><span class="mono">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;<a href="#CHAPTER_XI">XI.</a></span>&nbsp;&nbsp;IN PARIS</li>
+<li><span class="mono">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;<a href="#CHAPTER_XII">XII.</a></span>&nbsp;&nbsp;THE "MARQUIS"</li>
+<li><span class="mono">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;<a href="#CHAPTER_XIII">XIII.</a></span>&nbsp;&nbsp;THE PURSUIT</li>
+<li><span class="mono">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;<a href="#CHAPTER_XIV">XIV.</a></span>&nbsp;&nbsp;LOUISE</li>
+<li><span class="mono">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;<a href="#CHAPTER_XV">XV.</a></span>&nbsp;&nbsp;SWINDLED</li>
+<li><span class="mono">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;<a href="#CHAPTER_XVI">XVI.</a></span>&nbsp;&nbsp;MACHIAVELLI AND COMPANY</li>
+<li><span class="mono">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;<a href="#CHAPTER_XVII">XVII.</a></span>&nbsp;&nbsp;LOUISON</li>
+<li><span class="mono">&nbsp;&nbsp;<a href="#CHAPTER_XVIII">XVIII.</a></span>&nbsp;&nbsp;THE CANAL</li>
+<li><span class="mono">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;<a href="#CHAPTER_XIX">XIX.</a></span>&nbsp;&nbsp;SPLENDOR</li>
+<li><span class="mono">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;<a href="#CHAPTER_XX">XX.</a></span>&nbsp;&nbsp;IN LEIGOUTTE</li>
+<li><span class="mono">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;<a href="#CHAPTER_XXI">XXI.</a></span>&nbsp;&nbsp;EXCITED</li>
+<li><span class="mono">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;<a href="#CHAPTER_XXII">XXII.</a></span>&nbsp;&nbsp;THE TRIAL</li>
+<li><span class="mono">&nbsp;&nbsp;<a href="#CHAPTER_XXIII">XXIII.</a></span>&nbsp;&nbsp;THE CRISIS</li>
+<li><span class="mono">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;<a href="#CHAPTER_XXIV">XXIV.</a></span>&nbsp;&nbsp;THE AUTOPSY</li>
+<li><span class="mono">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;<a href="#CHAPTER_XXV">XXV.</a></span>&nbsp;&nbsp;FROM SCYLLA TO CHARYBDIS</li>
+<li><span class="mono">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;<a href="#CHAPTER_XXVI">XXVI.</a></span>&nbsp;&nbsp;MISTAKEN</li>
+<li><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_2" id="Page_2">[Pg 2]</a></span><span class="mono">&nbsp;&nbsp;<a href="#CHAPTER_XXVII">XXVII.</a></span>&nbsp;&nbsp;FREEDOM&mdash;BENEDETTO'S REVENGE</li>
+<li><span class="mono">&nbsp;<a href="#CHAPTER_XXVIII">XXVIII.</a></span>&nbsp;&nbsp;SPERO</li>
+<li><span class="mono">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;<a href="#CHAPTER_XXIX">XXIX.</a></span>&nbsp;&nbsp;FORWARD, MARCH</li>
+<li><span class="mono">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;<a href="#CHAPTER_XXX">XXX.</a></span>&nbsp;&nbsp;JANE ZILD</li>
+<li><span class="mono">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;<a href="#CHAPTER_XXXI">XXXI.</a></span>&nbsp;&nbsp;A THUNDERBOLT</li>
+<li><span class="mono">&nbsp;&nbsp;<a href="#CHAPTER_XXXII">XXXII.</a></span>&nbsp;&nbsp;OLD ACQUAINTANCES</li>
+<li><span class="mono">&nbsp;<a href="#CHAPTER_XXXIII">XXXIII.</a></span>&nbsp;&nbsp;THE CATASTROPHE</li>
+<li><span class="mono">&nbsp;&nbsp;<a href="#CHAPTER_XXXIV">XXXIV.</a></span>&nbsp;&nbsp;A SHOT</li>
+<li><span class="mono">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;<a href="#CHAPTER_XXXV">XXXV.</a></span>&nbsp;&nbsp;WILL SHE LIVE?</li>
+<li><span class="mono">&nbsp;&nbsp;<a href="#CHAPTER_XXXVI">XXXVI.</a></span>&nbsp;&nbsp;MELOSAN'S SECRET</li>
+<li><span class="mono">&nbsp;<a href="#CHAPTER_XXXVII">XXXVII.</a></span>&nbsp;&nbsp;CARMEN</li>
+<li><span class="mono"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXXVIII">XXXVIII.</a></span>&nbsp;&nbsp;RECOLLECTIONS</li>
+<li><span class="mono">&nbsp;&nbsp;<a href="#CHAPTER_XXXIX">XXXIX.</a></span>&nbsp;&nbsp;DISAPPEARED</li>
+<li><span class="mono">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;<a href="#CHAPTER_XL">XL.</a></span>&nbsp;&nbsp;A CONFESSION</li>
+<li><span class="mono">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;<a href="#CHAPTER_XLI">XLI.</a></span>&nbsp;&nbsp;ON THE TRAIL</li>
+<li><span class="mono">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;<a href="#CHAPTER_XLII">XLII.</a></span>&nbsp;&nbsp;THE TRAP</li>
+<li><span class="mono">&nbsp;&nbsp;<a href="#CHAPTER_XLIII">XLIII.</a></span>&nbsp;&nbsp;THE PATH OF THORNS</li>
+<li><span class="mono">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;<a href="#CHAPTER_XLIV">XLIV.</a></span>&nbsp;&nbsp;THE PASHA</li>
+<li><span class="mono">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;<a href="#CHAPTER_XLV">XLV.</a></span>&nbsp;&nbsp;HOW CARMEN KEEPS HER WORD</li>
+<li><span class="mono">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;<a href="#CHAPTER_XLVI">XLVI.</a></span>&nbsp;&nbsp;IN COURBEVOIE</li>
+<li><span class="mono">&nbsp;&nbsp;<a href="#CHAPTER_XLVII">XLVII.</a></span>&nbsp;&nbsp;THE DEVOTED</li>
+<li><span class="mono">&nbsp;<a href="#CHAPTER_XLVIII">XLVIII.</a></span>&nbsp;&nbsp;UNITED IN DEATH</li>
+<li><span class="mono">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;<a href="#CHAPTER_XLIX">XLIX.</a></span>&nbsp;&nbsp;THE SPECTRE</li>
+<li><span class="mono">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;<a href="#CHAPTER_L">L.</a></span></li>
+<li><span class="mono"><a href="#EPILOGUE">EPILOGUE.</a></span>&mdash;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&mdash;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&mdash;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&mdash;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&mdash;"</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&mdash;"</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&mdash;"</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&mdash;I believed&mdash;" began the host.</p>
+
+<p>"Do as I told you. I am expecting some one. Get a good dinner ready, and
+as soon as&mdash;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&mdash;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&mdash;"</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&mdash;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&mdash;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&mdash;"</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&mdash;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&mdash;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&mdash;"</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&mdash;&mdash; 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&mdash;"</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&mdash;"</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&mdash;"</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&mdash;"</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&mdash;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&mdash;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&mdash;"</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&mdash;"</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 dor&eacute;e</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&mdash;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&mdash;"</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&mdash;no, it surpassed
+everything&mdash;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&mdash;"</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&mdash;"</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&mdash;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&mdash;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&mdash;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&mdash;"</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&mdash;"</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&mdash;his
+murderer was&mdash;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&mdash;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&mdash;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&mdash;</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&mdash;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&mdash;he tumbled and
+fell with a half-smothered cry for help, "Help&mdash;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&mdash;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&mdash;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&mdash;"</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&mdash;the flood&mdash;dead&mdash;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&mdash;"</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&mdash;"</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&mdash;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&mdash;"</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&mdash;in which was, besides my
+stock, my family and some members of my troupe&mdash;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&mdash;"</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&mdash;I&mdash;"</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&mdash;is&mdash;right&mdash;all&mdash;must&mdash;suffer&mdash;Caillette&mdash;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&mdash;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&mdash;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&mdash;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&mdash;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&mdash;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&mdash;'after us the deluge'&mdash;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 Angoul&ecirc;me 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&mdash;"</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&mdash;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&mdash;do&mdash;you&mdash;know&mdash;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&mdash;"</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&mdash;"</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&mdash;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&mdash;let us go to dinner, and then&mdash;"</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
+Caf&eacute; 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&mdash;little Louison!"</p>
+
+<p>"The poor thing&mdash;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!&mdash;my head&mdash;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&mdash;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>prot&eacute;g&eacute;e</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&mdash;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&mdash;"</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&mdash;"</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&mdash;"</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&mdash;"</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&mdash;"</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>prot&eacute;g&eacute;e</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&mdash;</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&mdash;"</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&mdash;it will bring me to my grave when I think that such a
+thing should happen in my house&mdash;I&mdash;"</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&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"I thought so," growled Fanfaro.</p>
+
+<p>"And his friend Velletri to accompany them here&mdash;"</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&mdash;"</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&mdash;"</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&mdash;"</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&mdash;"</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&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"My poor boy, you do not really think&mdash;"</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&mdash;"</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&mdash;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&mdash;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&mdash;unhappiness!"</p>
+
+<p>"Then he has been here?" cried Fanfaro, terror-stricken.</p>
+
+<p>"No, not here&mdash;in&mdash;Sachemont&mdash;I&mdash;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&mdash;who stood at the door with tears in her eyes&mdash;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&mdash;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&mdash;"</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&mdash;who, by the way, has
+escaped the gallows more than once&mdash;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&mdash;"</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&mdash;are a respectable girl," said the woman, in a maudlin voice.
+"What conceit&mdash;you have! You might have been so yesterday, but
+to-day&mdash;try it&mdash;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&mdash;I lie&mdash;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&mdash;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&mdash;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&mdash;long&mdash;</p>
+
+<p class="tbrk">&nbsp;</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&mdash;"</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&mdash;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&mdash;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&mdash;such
+was the name of the new owner&mdash;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&mdash;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&mdash;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&mdash;Jacques&mdash;"</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&mdash;and&mdash;and&mdash;"</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&mdash;"</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&mdash;the box, O God! where is the box?"</p>
+
+<p class="center">&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;*&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;*&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;*&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;*&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;*</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&mdash;Leigoutte," repeated the maniac, urgently.</p>
+
+<p>"Leigoutte&mdash;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&mdash;Jacques," corrected the old woman.</p>
+
+<p>"But what should we do in Leigoutte, mother?"</p>
+
+<p>"The box&mdash;Jacques&mdash;Talizac&mdash;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&mdash;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&mdash;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&mdash;"</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&mdash;I&mdash;" 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&mdash;"</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&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"You come from him&mdash;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&mdash;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&mdash;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&mdash;"</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&mdash;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&mdash;"</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&mdash;"</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&mdash;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&mdash;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&mdash;not a royal edict, a sound
+constitutional law&mdash;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&mdash;"</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&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"I am yours body and soul," interrupted the marquis impatiently. "And
+to-day&mdash;"</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 na&iuml;ve 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&mdash;"</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&mdash;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&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"War?" repeated Fougereuse, confused. "I&mdash;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&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[Pg 175]</a></span></p><p>"I&mdash;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&mdash;do not&mdash;understand&mdash;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&mdash;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&mdash;"</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&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"And yet it is very clear. Fanfaro is in prison&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Even so&mdash;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&mdash;</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&mdash;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&mdash;"</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&mdash;"</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&mdash;I&mdash;"</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&mdash;vicomte&mdash;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&mdash;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&mdash;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&mdash;ha, ha, ha!&mdash;hates&mdash;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&mdash;"</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&mdash;it is about Fanfaro&mdash;"</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&mdash;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&mdash;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&mdash;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&mdash;"</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&mdash;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&mdash;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&mdash;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&mdash;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&mdash;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&mdash;"</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&mdash;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&mdash;"</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&mdash;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&mdash;we have taken out
+its teeth and chained it."</p>
+
+<p>"But I do not understand&mdash;" 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&mdash;"</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&mdash;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&mdash;Fanfaro&mdash;to the&mdash;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&mdash;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&mdash;lances, needles,
+knives, saws and bandages,&mdash;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&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Dr. Albaret," cried a stentorian voice at this moment&mdash;"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&mdash;to see&mdash;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&mdash;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&mdash;"</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&mdash;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">&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;*&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;*&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;*&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;*&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;*</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&mdash;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&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Ah! no doubt in regard to the money?" said Robeckal, laughing. "Have
+you brought the yellow birds along?"</p>
+
+<p>"Slowly, slowly&mdash;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&mdash;the&mdash;south&mdash;of&mdash;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&mdash;because," stammered Robeckal, faintly, "the sentence&mdash;"</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&mdash;the&mdash;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&mdash;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&mdash;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">&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;*&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;*&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;*&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;*&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;*</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&mdash;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">&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;*&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;*&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;*&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;*&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;*</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>&mdash;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 Abb&eacute; 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&mdash;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'&eacute;tat</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&mdash;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&mdash;now it must be seen whether you possess the will which
+guarantees success.</p>
+
+<p>"Your path is smooth&mdash;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&mdash;"</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&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"I know you possess courage," replied the young man.</p>
+
+<p>"<i>Sapristi</i>&mdash;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&mdash;excuse me, vicomte, but sometimes you look so stern&mdash;"</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&mdash;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&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>A frown passed over Spero's face, and he gently said:</p>
+
+<p>"My father is good&mdash;he is much better than I am&mdash;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&mdash;"</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&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, but&mdash;"</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 Sc&aelig;vola, 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&mdash;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&mdash;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&mdash;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&mdash;would&mdash;do it&mdash;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&mdash;"</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&mdash;"</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 Mac&aelig;nas, 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&mdash;not a millionnaire like you, for he has, at the utmost,
+five or six millions&mdash;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&mdash;"</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>soir&eacute;es</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&mdash;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&mdash;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&mdash;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&mdash;&mdash;, 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&mdash;&mdash; 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"&mdash;"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-Elys&eacute;es. 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&mdash;Edmond Dantes was his right name&mdash;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&mdash;"</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-Elys&eacute;es was had from here.</p>
+
+<p>At that time the many mansions which now fill the Champs-Elys&eacute;es 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&mdash;"</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&mdash;"</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&mdash;"</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&mdash;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-Elys&eacute;es. 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-Elys&eacute;es.</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&mdash;"</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&mdash;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&mdash;your voice?"</p>
+
+<p>"Would to God I had none! I&mdash;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&mdash;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&mdash;"</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&mdash;"</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&mdash;"</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&mdash;"</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&mdash;"</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&mdash;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&mdash;</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&mdash;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&mdash;do not&mdash;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&mdash;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&mdash;"</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&mdash;"</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&mdash;"</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&mdash;"</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&mdash;"</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 na&iuml;ve," 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&mdash;"</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&mdash;"</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&mdash;"</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&mdash;"</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&mdash;"</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&mdash;but no&mdash;you do not
+believe in anything&mdash;I&mdash;"</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&mdash;"</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&mdash;to-morrow at four o'clock we can take the train&mdash;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-Elys&eacute;es, 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&mdash;"</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&mdash;"</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&mdash;"</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&mdash;"</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&mdash;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&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Well? and&mdash;"</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&mdash;"</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&mdash;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&mdash;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&mdash;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&mdash;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'&eacute;tat</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-Elys&eacute;es, 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">&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;*&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;*&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;*&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;*&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;*</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&mdash;"</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&mdash;my breast pains me. Oh&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, mother," sobbed the poor child.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes&mdash;I am cold&mdash;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&mdash;"</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&mdash;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&mdash;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&mdash;cursed!" she cried.</p>
+
+<p>"Keep still; go to sleep," begged Anselmo, frightened. "No one has
+cursed you."</p>
+
+<p>"But he&mdash;my father&mdash;oh, I have brought shame and sorrow upon him; but it
+was not my fault&mdash;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&mdash;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&mdash;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&mdash;my father must not know that I saw his
+reverence almost every day, and then&mdash;then he suddenly disappeared from
+the village&mdash;his superiors had transferred him, and I&mdash;I wept until my
+eyes were red. And then&mdash;then came a terrible time. The girls at the
+well pointed their fingers in scorn at me&mdash;my father threw me out of the
+house! I ran as far as my feet would carry me&mdash;I suffered from hunger
+and thirst&mdash;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&mdash;is it that&mdash;calls me?" stammered the dying woman, faintly. "I
+should know&mdash;that&mdash;voice!"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, Jane, it is I&mdash;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&mdash;"my&mdash;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&mdash;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&mdash;curious
+phase of this girl's soul&mdash;when she thought she was not observed, she
+whispered faintly:</p>
+
+<p>"God be thanked that your troubles are over, poor mother&mdash;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&mdash;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&mdash;the memory of the
+horrible past. It seemed as if she were branded&mdash;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&mdash;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&mdash;the spectral
+apparition of a woman went past him and swung itself on the bridge
+railing.</p>
+
+<p>"Jane&mdash;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&mdash;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&mdash;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&mdash;the water entered his mouth&mdash;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&mdash;"</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&mdash;"</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&mdash;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&mdash;"</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&mdash;"</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&mdash;"</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&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Bah! Yesterday is yesterday, and to-day is to-day. Either I find out
+from you who you really are, or&mdash;"</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&mdash;would&mdash;dare&mdash;to do&mdash;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&mdash;"</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 Caf&eacute; 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&mdash;'</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&mdash;"</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&mdash;"</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&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Be silent, wretched creature!" cried Larsagny angrily, "be silent,
+or&mdash;"</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&mdash;who&mdash;gives&mdash;you&mdash;the right&mdash;" 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&mdash;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&mdash;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&mdash;the Baroness Danglars."</p>
+
+<p>"The miserable creature&mdash;the wretch!" cried Danglars, hoarsely. "But
+no&mdash;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&mdash;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&mdash;I am sinking&mdash;I am sinking! Ah, and she was
+nevertheless my mother&mdash;I loved her so&mdash;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&mdash;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&mdash;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&mdash;my Jane&mdash;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&mdash;then her breathing ceased&mdash;her arms sank by her side&mdash;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">&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;*&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;*&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;*&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;*&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;*</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-Elys&eacute;es, 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&mdash;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&mdash;my poor child&mdash;ah, is she dead?"</p>
+
+<p>"Who is dead?" asked Fanfaro.</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, she plunged into the water&mdash;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&mdash;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&mdash;"</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&mdash;Mademoiselle Jane&mdash;if it is&mdash;but no&mdash;it can't be possible&mdash;"</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&mdash;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&mdash;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&mdash;he&mdash;Toulon&mdash;the Bagnio&mdash;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&mdash;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&mdash;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&mdash;"</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>&mdash;Or may I say, my dear friend&mdash;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&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, keep still&mdash;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&mdash;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&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Thank God that you did not do it," cried Carmen, breathing more freely.
+"No, Gontram, I can never&mdash;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&mdash;for my lost youth&mdash;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&mdash;I&mdash;do not know," stammered the footman.</p>
+
+<p>"You do not know when the vicomte went out?"</p>
+
+<p>"I&mdash;that is&mdash;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&mdash;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>&mdash;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&mdash;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&mdash;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&mdash;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&mdash;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&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Does he know the banker?" interrupted Coucou.</p>
+
+<p>"No&mdash;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&mdash;"</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&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Since when are the bankers and the money-brokers at night in their
+offices?" asked Carmen.</p>
+
+<p>"But&mdash;"</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&mdash;"</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">&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;*&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;*&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;*&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;*&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;*</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&mdash;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, &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; <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&mdash;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&mdash;Monte-Cristo."</p>
+
+<p>"Monte-Cristo!" cried Larsagny, in terror, and with a gasp he fell back
+dead&mdash;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 Abb&eacute; 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&mdash;go away;
+you must not stay here."</p>
+
+<p>"Jane, I have come to take you with me."</p>
+
+<p>"No!&mdash;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&mdash;leave this place, and let me
+die! I cannot live any longer&mdash;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&mdash;"</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&mdash;quick&mdash;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&mdash;"</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&mdash;I hate your father&mdash;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">&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;*&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;*&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;*&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;*&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;*</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&mdash;he felt frightened and his
+teeth chattered.</p>
+
+<p>At length the long-looked-for bank was seen&mdash;a few more strokes and he
+would be saved. Now&mdash;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&mdash;my son! Benedetto&mdash;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&mdash;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&mdash;they sank deeper and deeper, and now&mdash;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">&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;*&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;*&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;*&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;*&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;*</p>
+
+<p>The next morning fishermen found the body of an unknown man in the
+bushes&mdash;it was Anselmo. He had breathed his last as the sun just began
+to rise&mdash;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&mdash;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&mdash;Danglars, Villefort, Mondego, Caderousse and
+Benedetto&mdash;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&mdash;he heard his firm
+words, "Papa, let us die"&mdash;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&mdash;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&mdash;you whose names I do not yet know, beware! I
+swear to be revenged&mdash;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 Abb&eacute; Faria,
+who was deemed to be insane. The abb&eacute; 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">&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;*&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;*&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;*&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;*&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;*</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 Abb&eacute; 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&mdash;was it a reality?&mdash;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 Abb&eacute; 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">&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;*&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;*&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;*&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;*&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;*</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">&nbsp;</p>
+
+<p class="center">THE END</p>
+
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<hr class="full" />
+<p>***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE SON OF MONTE-CRISTO, VOLUME II (OF 2)***</p>
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@@ -0,0 +1,12693 @@
+The Project Gutenberg eBook, The Son of Monte-Cristo, Volume II (of 2), by
+Alexandre Dumas père
+
+
+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 www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+
+
+
+Title: The Son of Monte-Cristo, Volume II (of 2)
+
+
+Author: Alexandre Dumas père
+
+
+
+Release Date: July 16, 2007  [eBook #22086]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII)
+
+
+***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE SON OF MONTE-CRISTO, VOLUME II
+(OF 2)***
+
+
+E-text prepared by Juergen Lohnert, Martin Pettit, and the Project
+Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team (http://www.pgdp.net)
+
+
+
+Transcriber's Note:
+
+   Obvious typographical errors have been corrected, and
+   inconsistent spelling has been made consistent.
+
+   This volume does not have any illustrations.
+
+
+
+
+
+The Works of Alexandre Dumas in Thirty Volumes
+
+THE SON OF MONTE-CRISTO
+
+VOLUME TWO
+
+Illustrated with Drawings on Wood by
+Eminent French and American Artists
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration: Publisher's logo]
+
+New York
+P. F. Collier and Son
+MCMIV
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS
+
+
+      I. FANFARO'S ADVENTURES               3
+
+     II. THE GOLDEN SUN                     7
+
+    III. OLD AND NEW ACQUAINTANCES         16
+
+     IV. BROTHER AND SISTER                23
+
+      V. MASTER AND SERVANT                31
+
+     VI. THE PERFORMANCE                   41
+
+    VII. PIERRE LABARRE                    49
+
+   VIII. A MEETING                         59
+
+     IX. THE GRATITUDE OF A NOBLEMAN       64
+
+      X. ESCAPED                           73
+
+     XI. IN PARIS                          79
+
+    XII. THE "MARQUIS"                     92
+
+   XIII. THE PURSUIT                      113
+
+    XIV. LOUISE                           123
+
+     XV. SWINDLED                         128
+
+    XVI. MACHIAVELLI AND COMPANY          134
+
+   XVII. LOUISON                          139
+
+  XVIII. THE CANAL                        143
+
+    XIX. SPLENDOR                         147
+
+     XX. IN LEIGOUTTE                     154
+
+    XXI. EXCITED                          163
+
+   XXII. THE TRIAL                        177
+
+  XXIII. THE CRISIS                       180
+
+   XXIV. THE AUTOPSY                      192
+
+    XXV. FROM SCYLLA TO CHARYBDIS         198
+
+   XXVI. MISTAKEN                         204
+
+  XXVII. FREEDOM--BENEDETTO'S REVENGE     207
+
+ XXVIII. SPERO                            215
+
+   XXIX. FORWARD, MARCH                   221
+
+    XXX. JANE ZILD                        228
+
+   XXXI. A THUNDERBOLT                    240
+
+  XXXII. OLD ACQUAINTANCES                246
+
+ XXXIII. THE CATASTROPHE                  252
+
+  XXXIV. A SHOT                           262
+
+   XXXV. WILL SHE LIVE?                   267
+
+  XXXVI. MELOSAN'S SECRET                 271
+
+ XXXVII. CARMEN                           287
+
+XXXVIII. RECOLLECTIONS                    297
+
+  XXXIX. DISAPPEARED                      302
+
+     XL. A CONFESSION                     311
+
+    XLI. ON THE TRAIL                     318
+
+   XLII. THE TRAP                         323
+
+  XLIII. THE PATH OF THORNS               326
+
+   XLIV. THE PASHA                        330
+
+    XLV. HOW CARMEN KEEPS HER WORD        333
+
+   XLVI. IN COURBEVOIE                    338
+
+  XLVII. THE DEVOTED                      341
+
+ XLVIII. UNITED IN DEATH                  344
+
+   XLIX. THE SPECTRE                      347
+
+      L.                                  349
+
+EPILOGUE--THE ABBE DANTES                 351
+
+
+
+
+THE SON OF MONTE-CRISTO
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+FANFARO'S ADVENTURES
+
+
+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.
+
+The following is Fanfaro's narrative:
+
+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 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.
+
+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.
+
+"Quick, Margotte," said Pierre to the animal, "you know how anxiously we
+are awaited, and besides we are the bearers of good news."
+
+The animal appeared to understand the words, began to trot again at a
+smart pace, and for a time all went well.
+
+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.
+
+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:
+
+"Curious, I can discover nothing, and yet I thought I heard the clatter
+of a horse's hoofs."
+
+He mechanically put his hand in his breast-pocket and nodded his head in
+a satisfied way.
+
+"The portfolio is still in the right place," he whispered. "Forward,
+Margotte--we must get under shelter."
+
+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.
+
+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:
+
+"Courage, old boy; if it should come to the worst you will kill your
+man."
+
+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.
+
+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:
+
+"Not so quickly, bandits!"
+
+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.
+
+"Confound the Black Forest," he growled as he rode 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."
+
+The horse trotted along, and Pierre heard anew the gallop of a second
+animal. The bandit evidently desired to keep his identity unknown.
+
+"Curious," muttered Pierre, "I did not see his face, but his voice
+seemed familiar."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+THE GOLDEN SUN
+
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"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:
+
+"Well guessed, Father Schwan. Firejaws in _propria persona_."
+
+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.
+
+"Make yourself at home, my boy," said Schwan, gayly, as he filled the
+glasses.
+
+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.
+
+"Father Schwan, I must embrace you once more," said the giant after a
+pause, as he stretched out his arms.
+
+"Go ahead, but do not crush me," laughed the host.
+
+"Are you glad to see me again?"
+
+"I should say so. How are you getting along?"
+
+"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.
+
+"Has business been good?"
+
+"Oh, I am satisfied."
+
+"Where are your people?"
+
+"On their way here. The coach was too slow for me, so I left them behind
+and went on in advance."
+
+"Well, and--your wife?" asked the host, hesitatingly.
+
+The giant closed his eyes and was silent; Schwan looked down at his
+feet, and after a pause continued:
+
+"Things don't go as they should, I suppose?"
+
+"Let me tell you something," replied the giant, firmly; "if it is just
+the same to you, I would rather not talk on that subject."
+
+"Ah, really? Poor fellow! Yes, these women!"
+
+"Not so quickly, cousin--my deceased wife was a model of a woman."
+
+"True; when she died I knew you would never find another one to equal
+her."
+
+"My little Caillette is just like her."
+
+"Undoubtedly. When I saw the little one last, about six years ago, she
+was as pretty as a picture."
+
+"She is seventeen now, and still very handsome."
+
+"What are the relations between your wife and you?"
+
+"They couldn't be better; Rolla cannot bear the little one."
+
+The host nodded.
+
+"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?"
+
+"She dare not touch a hair of the child's head," hissed the giant,
+"or--"
+
+"Do not get angry; but tell me rather whether Bobichel is still with
+you?"
+
+"Of course."
+
+"And Robeckal?"
+
+"His time is about up."
+
+"That would be no harm; and the little one?"
+
+"The little one?" laughed Girdel. "Well, he is about six feet."
+
+"You do not say so! Is he still so useful?"
+
+"Cousin," said the giant, slowly, "Fanfaro is a 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."
+
+"Then you love him as much as you used to do?" laughed the host, in a
+satisfied way.
+
+"Much more if it is possible; I--"
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+Bobichel now jumped from the wagon. Girdel hurried from the house and
+cordially exclaimed:
+
+"Welcome, children; you have remained out long and are not hungry, are
+you?"
+
+"I could eat pebblestones," replied Bobichel, laughing. "Ah, there is
+Schwan too. Well, old boy, how have you been getting along?"
+
+While the host and the clown were holding a conversation, Girdel went to
+the wagon and stretched out his arms.
+
+"Jump, daughter," he laughingly said.
+
+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:
+
+"Where is Fanfaro?"
+
+"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.
+
+"Madcap, can't you stop turning?" scolded Girdel, laughingly; "go into
+the house and get your breakfast!"
+
+Caillette, Fanfaro, and Bobichel went away; Girdel turned to his wife
+and pleasantly said:
+
+"Rolla, I will now help you down."
+
+Rolla looked at him sharply, and then said in a rough, rasping voice:
+
+"Didn't I call you, Robeckal? Come and help me down!"
+
+Robeckal, who had been observing the chickens in the courtyard, slowly
+approached the wagon.
+
+"What do you want?" he asked.
+
+"Help me down," repeated Rolla.
+
+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.
+
+"Robeckal, are you coming?" cried the virago, impatiently.
+
+"What do you wish here?" asked Girdel, coolly, as Robeckal turned to
+Rolla.
+
+"What do I wish here?" replied Robeckal; "Madame Girdel has done me the
+honor to call me, and--"
+
+"And you are thinking rather long about it," interrupted Rolla, gruffly.
+
+"I am here," growled Robeckal, laying his hand upon the edge of the
+wagon.
+
+"No further!" commanded Girdel, in a threatening voice.
+
+"Ha! who is going to prevent me?"
+
+"I, wretch!" thundered Firejaws, in whose eyes a warning glance shone.
+
+"Bah! you are getting angry about nothing," said Robeckal, mockingly,
+placing his other hand on the edge of the wagon.
+
+"Strike him, Robeckal!" cried Rolla, urgingly.
+
+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 happened neither he nor Rolla knew, but immediately after he
+lay on top of the wagon, close to the Cannon Queen.
+
+"Enough of your rascality, Robeckal," said the voice of him who had
+thrown the angry man upon the wagon.
+
+"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.
+
+"Back, Rolla!" exclaimed Firejaws, hoarsely, as he laid his iron fist
+upon his wife's shoulder. Schwan came to the door and cordially said:
+
+"Where are your comrades? The soup is waiting."
+
+Robeckal hurriedly glided from the wagon, and approaching close to
+Rolla, he whispered a few words in her ear.
+
+"Let me go, Girdel," said the giantess. "Who would take such a stupid
+joke in earnest? Come, I am hungry."
+
+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.
+
+"We must make an end of it, Rolla," grumbled Robeckal.
+
+"I am satisfied. The sooner the better!"
+
+"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."
+
+"Do so. Let us go to dinner now, I am hungry."
+
+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.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+OLD AND NEW ACQUAINTANCES
+
+
+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.
+
+The man's face had a disagreeable expression. He had deep squinting
+eyes, a large mouth, a broad nose, and long, bony fingers.
+
+When the host approached the stranger he bowed and respectfully asked:
+
+"How can I serve you, sir?"
+
+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.
+
+The stranger walked into the middle of the room, and, seating himself at
+a table, said:
+
+"Bring me a glass of brandy."
+
+"I thought--I believed--" began the host.
+
+"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."
+
+"It shall be attended to," nodded Schwan, who thought the man was the
+steward of some big lord.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"Where shall I serve the gentlemen?"
+
+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 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.
+
+The host now brought the ham and eggs. As he placed them on the table,
+the carman hastily asked:
+
+"How far is it, sir, from here to Remiremont?"
+
+"To Remiremont? Ah, I see the gentlemen do not belong to the vicinity.
+To Remiremont is about two hours."
+
+"So much the better; we can get there then in the course of the
+afternoon."
+
+"That is a question," remarked Schwan.
+
+"How so? What do you mean?"
+
+"The road is very bad," he replied.
+
+"That won't be so very dangerous."
+
+"Oh, but the floods!"
+
+"What's the matter with the floods?" said the old soldier.
+
+"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."
+
+"That would be bad," exclaimed the carman, excitedly.
+
+"It would be dangerous," remarked the old soldier.
+
+"Oh, yes, sir; last year two travellers were drowned between Sainte-Ame
+and Remiremont; to tell the truth, the gentlemen looked like you!"
+
+"Thanks for the compliment!"
+
+"The gentlemen probably had no guide," said the carman.
+
+"No."
+
+"Well, we shall take a guide along; can you get one for us?"
+
+"To-morrow, but not to-day."
+
+"Why not?"
+
+"Because my people are busy; but to-morrow it can be done."
+
+In the meantime, the acrobats had finished their meal. Girdel arose,
+and, drawing close to the travellers, said:
+
+"If the gentlemen desire, they can go with us to-morrow to Remiremont."
+
+"Oh, that is a good idea," said the host gleefully; "accept, gentlemen.
+If Girdel conducts you, you can risk it without any fear."
+
+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:
+
+"Accepted, sir. We are strangers here, and would have surely lost
+ourselves. When do you expect to go?"
+
+"To-morrow morning. To-night we give a performance here, and with the
+dawn of day we start for Remiremont."
+
+"Good. Can I invite you now to join us in a glass of wine?"
+
+Girdel protested more politely than earnestly; Schwan brought a bottle
+and glasses, and the giant sat down by the strangers.
+
+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.
+
+Robeckal and Rolla now left the dining-room, while Fanfaro, Caillette
+and Bobichel still remained seated; a minute later Robeckal returned,
+and drawing near to Girdel, softly said to him:
+
+"Master."
+
+"Well?"
+
+"Do you need me?"
+
+"What for?"
+
+"To erect the booth?"
+
+"No, Fanfaro and Bobichel will attend to it."
+
+"Then good-by for the present."
+
+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.
+
+"One word, friend," he said to Robeckal.
+
+"Quick, what does it concern?"
+
+"Twenty francs for you, if you answer me properly."
+
+"Go ahead."
+
+"What is this Firejaws?"
+
+"Athlete, acrobat, wrestler--anything you please."
+
+"What is his right name?"
+
+"Girdel, Cesar Girdel."
+
+"Do you know the men with whom he just spoke?"
+
+"No."
+
+"You hate Girdel?"
+
+"Who told you so, and what is it your business?"
+
+"Ah, a great deal. If you hate him we can make a common thing of it. You
+belong to his troupe?"
+
+"Yes, for the present."
+
+"Bah, long enough to earn a few gold pieces."
+
+"What is asked of me for that?"
+
+"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."
+
+Robeckal shrugged his shoulders.
+
+"Humbug," he said, indifferently.
+
+"No, I mean it seriously."
+
+"I should like it to be done," replied Robeckal, dryly.
+
+"Here are twenty francs in advance."
+
+Robeckal stretched out his hand for the gold piece, let it fall into his
+pocket, and disappeared without a word.
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+"How goes it?" asked the carman, now softly.
+
+"Good," replied Girdel, in the same tone.
+
+"The peasants are prepared?"
+
+"Yes. The seed is ripe. They are only waiting for the order to begin to
+sow.
+
+"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?"
+
+"Yes; he did not look as if he could instil confidence into any one; I
+think he must be a lackey."
+
+"He could be a spy too; when can we speak to one another undisturbed?"
+
+"This evening after the performance, either in your room or in mine."
+
+"Let it be in yours; we can wait until the others sleep; let your door
+remain open, Girdel."
+
+"I will not fail to do so."
+
+"Then it is settled; keep mum. No one must know of our presence here."
+
+"Not even Fanfaro?"
+
+"No, not for any price."
+
+"But you do not distrust him? He is a splendid fellow--"
+
+"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."
+
+"You couldn't find a better person."
+
+"I believe it. Good-by, now, until to-night."
+
+"_Au revoir!_"
+
+"Sir," said the carman, now aloud, "we accept your proposal with thanks,
+and hope to reach Remiremont to-morrow with your help."
+
+"You shall."
+
+Girdel turned now to Fanfaro, and gayly cried:
+
+"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."
+
+"I am," replied Schwan; "hand in your petition; here is some stamped
+paper."
+
+"Fanfaro, write what is necessary," ordered Girdel; "you know I'm not
+much in that line."
+
+"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.
+
+"Flatterer," scolded Girdel. "Forward, Bobichel; bring me the work-box;
+the people will find out to-night that they will see something."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+BROTHER AND SISTER
+
+
+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 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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+Fanfaro was now done with the seats and began to 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.
+
+Fanfaro lightly swung upon the centre log and hammered in the iron hooks
+with powerful blows.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+Like an arrow the slim body shot through the air, and then Fanfaro
+sprung lightly to the ground, while the trapeze flew back.
+
+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.
+
+"How you frightened me, you wicked fellow," said the young girl, drawing
+a deep breath.
+
+"Were you really frightened, Caillette? I thought you would have got
+used to my exercises long ago."
+
+"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."
+
+"Little sister, you are needlessly alarming yourself."
+
+Caillette held down her pretty little head and the hot blood rushed to
+her velvety cheeks, while her hands nervously clutched each other.
+
+"Caillette, what ails you?" asked Fanfaro.
+
+"Oh--tell me, Fanfaro, why do you always call me 'little sister'?"
+
+"Does the expression displease you, mademoiselle?" laughingly said the
+young man; "is it the word 'little,' or the word 'sister'?"
+
+"I did not say the expression displeased me."
+
+"Should I call you my big sister?"
+
+"Why do you call me sister at all?"
+
+A cloud spread over the young man's face.
+
+"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."
+
+"But you are not my brother," persisted Caillette.
+
+"Perhaps not in the sense commonly associated with the term, but yet I
+love you like a brother. Doesn't this explanation please you?"
+
+"Yes and no. I wished--"
+
+"What would you wish?"
+
+"I had rather not say it," whispered Caillette, and hastily throwing her
+arms about Fanfaro she kissed him heartily.
+
+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 feelings to her, and Fanfaro feared that moment,
+for he--did not love her.
+
+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.
+
+"Caillette," he said, now trying to appear cheerful, "we must hurry up
+with our preparations, or the performance will begin before we are
+done."
+
+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:
+
+"Irene, what new caprice is it that brings you here, and what will the
+countess say if she hears of it?"
+
+"Madame Ursula, spare your curtain lectures," laughed the young lady;
+"and if you cannot do so, you are free to return to the castle."
+
+"God forbid," exclaimed Madame Ursula in affright.
+
+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.
+
+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 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.
+
+Fanfaro and Caillette paused at their work, and now the young girl
+exclaimed in a clear bell-like voice:
+
+"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?"
+
+"H'm--that would be difficult," said Girdel, looking about.
+
+"Of course I shall pay extra for the seats," continued the young lady.
+
+"We have only one price for the front rows," said Firejaws, simply;
+"they cost twenty sous and the rear seats ten sous."
+
+The governess sighed sorrowfully; Irene took an elegant purse from her
+pocket and pressed it in Girdel's hand.
+
+"Take the money," she said, "and do what I say."
+
+"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?"
+
+Fanfaro drew near, and the young lady with open wonder gazed at the
+beautiful youth.
+
+"What's the trouble, Papa Girdel?" he said.
+
+Before the giant could speak Irene said:
+
+"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--"
+
+"H'm!" growled Girdel.
+
+"It is impossible," said Fanfaro, coolly.
+
+"Impossible?" repeated the young lady in amazement.
+
+"But, Fanfaro," interrupted Girdel, "I should think we could do it. A
+few boards, a carpet, and the thing is done."
+
+"Perhaps, but I shall not touch a finger to it."
+
+"You refuse?" exclaimed Irene. "Why, if I may ask?"
+
+"Bravo, Fanfaro!" whispered Caillette, softly.
+
+"Will you answer my question, monsieur---- I do not know your name?"
+said Irene, impatiently.
+
+"I am called Fanfaro," remarked the young man.
+
+"Well then, Monsieur Fanfaro," began Irene, with a mocking laugh, "why
+do you refuse to lend your master a helping hand?"
+
+"His master?" replied Girdel, with flaming eyes; "excuse me,
+mademoiselle, but you have been incorrectly informed."
+
+"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?"
+
+While Fanfaro was speaking, Irene looked steadily at his handsome face.
+The governess muttered something about impertinence. When the young man
+looked up, Irene softly said:
+
+"That was a sharp lesson."
+
+"No; I merely told you my opinion."
+
+"Good. Now let me give you my answer; I will come this evening!"
+
+"I thought so," replied Fanfaro simply.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V
+
+MASTER AND SERVANT
+
+
+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.
+
+"Thank God," said Madame Ursula, "there is the carriage."
+
+An elegant equipage came in sight, and a groom led a beautiful racer by
+the bridle.
+
+"Step in, Madame Ursula," said Irene, laughing, as she vaulted into the
+saddle.
+
+"But you promised me--"
+
+"To be at the castle the same time as you," added the young lady. "And I
+shall keep my promise. Forward, Almanser!"
+
+The horse flew along like an arrow, and Madame Ursula, sighing, got into
+the carriage, which started off in the same direction.
+
+"Who is the handsome lady?" asked Bobichel.
+
+"The richest heiress in Alsace and Lorraine, Mademoiselle de Salves,"
+was the answer.
+
+"Ah, she suits me," said the clown.
+
+"Bah, she is as proud as a peacock," growled an old peasant.
+
+"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."
+
+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:
+
+"Welcome, Monsieur le Marquis; my letter arrived, then, opportunely?"
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"What does the gentleman desire?" asked the host, politely.
+
+"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.
+
+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 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:
+
+"Leave the room now, and do not enter it until I call for you."
+
+"If the gentlemen wish anything--"
+
+"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."
+
+"Neither I do," remarked Schwan.
+
+"So much the better, then you do not need to tell a lie; I advise you in
+your own interest not to say anything."
+
+The host went away and growled on the stairs:
+
+"Confound big people and their servants. I prefer guests like Girdel and
+his troupe."
+
+As soon as the door had closed behind Schwan, Simon approached the
+marquis.
+
+"We are alone, master," he said timidly.
+
+"Then speak; have you discovered Pierre Labarre's residence?"
+
+"Yes, master."
+
+"But you have not gone to see him yet?"
+
+"No, I kept within your orders."
+
+"You were right. I must daze the old scoundrel through my sudden
+appearance; I hope to get the secret from him."
+
+"Is everything better now, master?" asked Simon, after a pause.
+
+"Better? What are you thinking of?" exclaimed the marquis, angrily.
+"Every one has conspired against me, and ruin is near at hand."
+
+"But the protection of his majesty--"
+
+"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."
+
+"The king cannot have forgotten what you did for him," said Simon.
+
+"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."
+
+Simon nodded.
+
+"But the vicomte," he observed; "his majesty showers favors upon him--"
+
+"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?"
+
+"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."
+
+"So much the better. Think of it, four millions! Oh, if this should be
+lost to us!"
+
+"That will hardly be the case, Monsieur le Marquis; the marriage has
+been decided upon."
+
+"Certainly, certainly, but then--if the old countess should find out
+about our pecuniary embarrassments all would be lost. But no, I will not
+despair; Pierre Labarre must talk, and then--"
+
+"Suppose he won't? Old people are sometimes obstinate."
+
+"Have no fear, Simon, my methods have subdued many wills."
+
+"Yes, yes, you are right, sir," laughed Simon.
+
+"I can rely on you, then?"
+
+"Perfectly so, sir. If it were necessary I would pick it up with ten
+Pierres!"
+
+"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."
+
+"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."
+
+"Really? You arouse my curiosity."
+
+"My lord, Monsieur Franchet honored me with his confidence."
+
+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 Simon would make a
+good spy, Fougereuse knew very well.
+
+"Go on," he softly said, when Simon paused.
+
+"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."
+
+"And how are you going to perform the miracle?" asked the marquis,
+sceptically.
+
+"By allowing Monsieur le Marquis to take part in my projects for the
+good of the monarchy."
+
+"Speak more clearly," ordered the marquis, briefly.
+
+"Directly."
+
+Simon went close to his master, and whispered:
+
+"There exists a dangerous conspiracy against the state. People wish to
+overturn the government and depose the king."
+
+"Folly! that has been often desired."
+
+"But this time it is serious. A republican society--"
+
+"Do not speak to me about republicans!" exclaimed Fougereuse, angrily.
+
+"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
+_sauve qui peut_! 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 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."
+
+The marquis sprung up in excitement.
+
+"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.
+
+"Yes, my lord."
+
+"You would allow me to reap the profit of your discovery?"
+
+"Yes, my lord; I am in the first place a faithful servant."
+
+"Simon, let us stop this talk with turned down cards. What do you wish
+in return?"
+
+"Nothing, my lord; I depend upon your generosity."
+
+"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."
+
+"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."
+
+"I am ready; where does he live?"
+
+"At Vagney, about three hours distant."
+
+"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."
+
+"Then I shall order horses at once!"
+
+Simon went away, and the marquis remained behind thinking. No matter
+where he looked, the past, present and future were alike blue to him.
+
+The old marquis had died in 1817, and the vicomte 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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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 _jeunesse doree_. 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:
+
+"Once for all, Jean, my son was not made to save; he is the heir of the
+Fougereuse, and must keep up his position."
+
+"But in this way we shall soon be beggars," complained the marquis.
+
+"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 from you, and if you do not force Pierre Labarre to speak you will
+have to go without it."
+
+"Then you think Pierre Labarre knows where the major part of my father's
+fortune is?" asked the marquis.
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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:
+
+"Are the horses ready?"
+
+"No, my lord; the Cure has overflowed in consequence of the heavy
+rains, and the road from here to Vagney is impassable."
+
+"Can we not reach Vagney by any other way?"
+
+"No, my lord."
+
+"Bah! the peasants exaggerate the danger so as to get increased prices
+for their services. Have you tried to get horses?"
+
+"Yes, my lord; but unfortunately no one in the village except the host
+owns any."
+
+"Then buy the host's horses."
+
+"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."
+
+"That looks almost like a conspiracy!" exclaimed the marquis.
+
+"I think so too, and if I am permitted an advice--"
+
+"Speak freely; what do you mean?"
+
+"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."
+
+"You are right," replied the marquis; "let us go."
+
+Schwan was frightened when he heard of their intention, but the marquis
+remained determined, and the two were soon on the road.
+
+"If no accident happens," growled the host to himself, "the Cure is a
+treacherous sheet of water; I wish they were already back again."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI
+
+THE PERFORMANCE
+
+
+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.
+
+"Enter, ladies and gentlemen, enter," exclaimed Bobichel, as he stood at
+the box-office and cordially greeted the crowds of people.
+
+"I wonder whether she will come?" muttered Caillette to herself.
+
+"Everything is ready," whispered Robeckal to Rolla; the Cannon Queen
+nodded and threw dark scowls at Girdel and Fanfaro.
+
+The quick gallop of a horse was now heard, and the next minute Irene de
+Salves stepped into the booth.
+
+"Really, she has come," muttered Caillette in a daze, as she pressed her
+hand to her heart and looked searchingly at Fanfaro.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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:
+
+"Thank God, she is the picture of her father."
+
+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:
+
+"Mamma gives these people money, and therefore it is all right."
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+It was a wild caprice which had induced the young girl 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:
+
+"Monsieur Fanfaro, are you satisfied with me?"
+
+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.
+
+Madame Ursula, who sat next to her pupil, moved up and down uneasily in
+her chair. Irene did not possess the least _savoir vivre_. 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?
+
+Caillette, too, had noticed the young lady address Fanfaro, and she
+became violently jealous.
+
+What business had the rich heiress with the young man, whom she was
+accustomed to look upon as her own property?
+
+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.
+
+"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 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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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 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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"Oh, Fanfaro, is he dead?" sobbed Caillette.
+
+Fanfaro was silent and bent anxiously over Girdel; Rolla, on the other
+hand, looked angrily at the young man and hissed in his ear:
+
+"Do not touch him. I will restore him myself."
+
+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:
+
+"Thank God, he lives!"
+
+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.
+
+Girdel still remained motionless; the young countess handed Fanfaro an
+elegantly carved bottle filled with smelling-salts, but even this was of
+no avail.
+
+"Wait, I know what will help him!" exclaimed Bobichel, suddenly, and
+hurrying out he returned with a bottle of strong brandy.
+
+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.
+
+"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."
+
+Rolla shuddered, and a look flew from Bobichel to Fanfaro.
+
+Robeckal now thought it proper to appear and come from behind a post. He
+said in a whining voice:
+
+"Thank God that our brave master lives. I dreaded the worst."
+
+Schwan, who was crying like a child, threw a sharp look at Robeckal, and
+Fanfaro now said:
+
+"Is there no physician in the neighborhood?"
+
+"No, there is no physician in Sainte-Ame, and Vagney is several miles
+distant."
+
+"No matter, I shall go to Vagney."
+
+"Impossible, the floods have destroyed all the roads; you risk your
+life, Fanfaro," said Schwan.
+
+"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."
+
+"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."
+
+"Monsieur Fanfaro," said Irene, advancing, "take my riding horse; it
+flies like the wind, and will carry you to Vagney in a short time."
+
+"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."
+
+No one paid any attention to her. Fanfaro swung himself into the saddle,
+and, throwing a cloak over his shoulders, he cordially said:
+
+"Mademoiselle, I thank you."
+
+"Don't mention it; I am following your advice," laughed Irene.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII
+
+PIERRE LABARRE
+
+
+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.
+
+"The danger is behind us now," said Simon.
+
+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.
+
+For a short time all was still, and Simon was about to strike again,
+when a window was opened and a voice asked:
+
+"Who is there?"
+
+The two men exchanged quick glances; Pierre Labarre was at home, and, as
+it seemed, alone.
+
+"I am the Marquis of Fougereuse," said the marquis, finally.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"Come in, vicomte," said the old man, earnestly.
+
+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:
+
+"Monsieur le Vicomte, will you please take a seat?"
+
+The marquis angrily said:
+
+"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?"
+
+Pierre Labarre stroked the white hair from his forehead with his long
+bony hand and slowly said:
+
+"I know only one Marquis of Fougereuse."
+
+"And who should bear this title if not I?" cried the marquis, angrily.
+
+"The son of the man who was murdered at Leigoutte in the year 1805,"
+replied Pierre.
+
+"Murdered?" exclaimed the marquis, mockingly: "that man fell fighting
+against the legitimate masters of the country."
+
+"Your brother, Monsieur le Vicomte, was the victim of a well-laid plan;
+those persons who were interested in his death made their preparations
+with wonderful foresight."
+
+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?
+
+"Let us not discuss that matter," he hastily said; "other matters have
+brought me here--"
+
+As Pierre remained silent, the marquis continued:
+
+"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--"
+
+"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."
+
+"You are fooling, old man," exclaimed the marquis, growing pale;
+"Jules's two children are dead."
+
+The old man crossed his arms over his breast, and, looking steadily at
+the marquis, he firmly said:
+
+"Monsieur le Vicomte, the children live."
+
+The marquis could no longer restrain himself.
+
+"You know where they are?" he excitedly exclaimed.
+
+"No, vicomte, but it cheers me to hear from your words that you yourself
+do not believe the children are dead."
+
+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.
+
+"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."
+
+"You are right," nodded the marquis; and turning to Pierre again he
+threateningly said:
+
+"Listen, Pierre Labarre; I will tell you the object of my visit. It is a
+question of the honor of the Fougereuse."
+
+A sarcastic laugh played about the old man's lips, and half muttering to
+himself, he repeated:
+
+"The honor of the Fougereuse--I am really curious to know what I shall
+hear."
+
+The marquis trembled, and, casting a timid look at Simon, he said:
+
+"Simon, leave us to ourselves."
+
+"What, Monsieur le Marquis?" asked Simon in amazement.
+
+"You should leave us alone," repeated the marquis, adding in a whisper:
+"Go, I have my reasons."
+
+"But, Monsieur le Marquis!"
+
+"Do not say anything; go!"
+
+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.
+
+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 the marquis in amazement, and quickly withdrawing his
+hand, he dryly said:
+
+"To business, vicomte."
+
+"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."
+
+Pierre held his eyes down, and even the marquis paused--he did not look
+up.
+
+"Pierre, have you no mercy?" exclaimed the nobleman, in a trembling
+voice.
+
+"Speak further, my lord," said Pierre; "I am listening."
+
+The marquis felt like stamping with his foot. He saw, however, that he
+had to control himself.
+
+"If you let me implore hopelessly to-day, Pierre," he whispered,
+gritting his teeth, "the name of Fougereuse will be eternally
+dishonored."
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+"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--"
+
+"Well, what will happen?" asked Pierre, indifferently.
+
+"Then I will not be able to keep my coat of arms, which dates from the
+Crusades, clean and spotless."
+
+"I do not understand you, vicomte. Is it only a question of your
+fortune?"
+
+"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."
+
+The old man's face showed no traces of surprise. He kept silent for a
+moment, and then asked in cold tones:
+
+"Monsieur le Vicomte, what do you wish of me?"
+
+"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--"
+
+"Go on," said Pierre, as the marquis paused.
+
+"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 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?"
+
+The marquis hesitated; Pierre rose slowly and, turning to a side wall,
+grasped the mourning cloth and shoved it aside.
+
+The nobleman wonderingly observed the old man, who now took a lamp and
+solemnly said:
+
+"Vicomte, look here!"
+
+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.
+
+"Monsieur le Vicomte, do you know what that is?" asked Pierre,
+threateningly.
+
+"No," replied the marquis.
+
+"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?"
+
+"I do not understand you," stammered the nobleman, in a trembling voice.
+
+"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!"
+
+"Silence, miserable lackey!" exclaimed the marquis, enraged, "you lie!"
+
+"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!'
+
+"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:
+
+"'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!"
+
+Pale as death, with quaking knees, the marquis leaned against the wall.
+When Pierre was silent he hissed in a low voice:
+
+"Then you refuse to help me?"
+
+"Yes, a thousand times, yes."
+
+"You persist in keeping the fortune of the Fougereuse for Jules's son,
+who has been dead a long time?"
+
+"I keep the fortune for the living."
+
+"And if he were dead, nevertheless?"
+
+Pierre suddenly looked up--suppose the murderer were to prove his
+assertion?
+
+"Would you, if Jules's son were really dead, acknowledge me as the
+heir?"
+
+"I cannot tell."
+
+"For the last time, will you speak?"
+
+"No; the will and fortune belong to the Marquis of Fougereuse, Jules's
+son."
+
+"Enough; the will is here in your house; the rest will take care of
+itself."
+
+Hereupon the marquis gave a penetrating whistle, and when Simon appeared
+his master said to him:
+
+"Take hold of this scoundrel!"
+
+"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:
+
+"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."
+
+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!"
+
+He pressed his hand to the trigger, but Pierre Labarre put his pistol
+down, and contemptuously said:
+
+"Bah! for the lackey the dog will do. Catch him, Sultan!"
+
+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.
+
+"Help, my lord marquis!" cried the steward.
+
+"Let go, Sultan," commanded Pierre.
+
+The dog shook his opponent once more and then let him loose.
+
+"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."
+
+The wretches ran as if pursued by the Furies. Pierre caressed the dog
+and then laughed softly; he was rid of his guests.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII
+
+A MEETING
+
+
+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.
+
+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--
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+Suddenly Simon paused and seized the marquis's arm.
+
+"Listen," he whispered, tremblingly, "what is that?"
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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!"
+
+Suddenly it seemed to the half-unconscious man as if he heard a human
+voice calling to him from above:
+
+"Courage--keep up."
+
+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.
+
+"Attention, I will soon be with you," cried the voice, now coming
+nearer.
+
+The marquis saw the form spring, climb, and then the water spurted up
+and the marquis lost consciousness.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"Where am I?" he faintly stammered. "The water--ah!"
+
+"You are saved," said Fanfaro, gently.
+
+The sound of the voice caused all the blood to rush to the marquis's
+heart.
+
+"Did you save me?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Who are you?"
+
+"My name is Fanfaro, and I am a member of Girdel's troupe, which is at
+present in Sainte-Ame. Can you raise yourself?"
+
+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.
+
+"Are you wounded?" asked Fanfaro, anxiously.
+
+"No, I do not think so; the water knocked me against trees and stones,
+and my limbs hurt me from that."
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+Soon the road became broader, the neighing of a horse was heard, and
+drawing a deep breath the young man stood still.
+
+"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."
+
+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 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.
+
+Had he Jules's son before him?
+
+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.
+
+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:
+
+"If the poor fellow only doesn't get hurt; he is still feeble, and the
+horse needs a competent rider."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX
+
+THE GRATITUDE OF A NOBLEMAN
+
+
+Fanfaro was hardly a hundred feet away from Sainte-Ame, when Girdel
+opened his eyes and looked about him.
+
+"What, my little Caillette is weeping!" he muttered, half-laughing.
+"Child, you probably thought I was dead?"
+
+"Oh, God be praised and thanked!" cried Caillette, springing up and
+falling upon her father's neck.
+
+Bobichel almost sprung to the ceiling, and Schwan, between laughing and
+crying, exclaimed:
+
+"What a fright you gave us, old boy. The poor fellow rode away in the
+night to get a physician, and--"
+
+"A physician? For me?" laughed Girdel. "Thank God, we are not so far
+gone."
+
+"But you were unconscious more than half an hour; we became frightened,
+and Fanfaro rode to Vagney."
+
+"He rode? On our old mare, perhaps? If he only returns," said Girdel,
+anxiously. "The water must be dangerous about Vagney."
+
+"He has a good horse; the Countess of Salves gave Fanfaro her
+thoroughbred," said Bobichel.
+
+"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."
+
+Caillette, Bobichel, Schwan and Rolla went away. In the dark corridor a
+figure passed by Rolla, and a hoarse voice said:
+
+"Well?"
+
+"All for nothing," growled Rolla; "he lives, and is as healthy as a fish
+in the water."
+
+"You don't say so," hissed Robeckal.
+
+"It was your own fault," continued the virago. "A good stab in the right
+place, and all is over; but you have no courage."
+
+"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?"
+
+"A great pile," said Rolla.
+
+"And you cannot tell me their contents?"
+
+"No; I never read them."
+
+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:
+
+"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."
+
+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; Girdel
+had guaranteed that Fanfaro would fill the mission promptly.
+
+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.
+
+While Schwan was busy with him, the sound of a horse's hoofs was heard.
+
+"Thank God, here comes Fanfaro!" exclaimed Bobichel and Caillette,
+simultaneously, and they both rushed to the door.
+
+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?
+
+"Where is Fanfaro?" asked Bobichel, anxiously.
+
+"He will soon be here," replied the marquis; "the horse ran away with
+me, and I could not hold him."
+
+"Then the brave fellow is not injured?" asked Schwan, vivaciously.
+
+"God forbid; quick, give me a glass of brandy and lead me to Girdel; I
+must speak to him at once."
+
+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.
+
+"Ah, that warms," he said, smacking his lips, "and now let us look for
+Girdel."
+
+As soon as the marquis left the room, Robeckal drew near to the steward
+and whispered:
+
+"Follow me, I must speak to you."
+
+They both went into the hall and held a conversation in low tones.
+
+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.
+
+"There he is," whispered Robeckal, "God knows how it is, but neither
+fire nor water seems to have the slightest effect on him."
+
+"We will get rid of him, never fear," said Simon, wickedly.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"Have I the honor of addressing Monsieur Girdel?" the stranger politely
+asked.
+
+"At your service; that is my name."
+
+"I am the Marquis of Fougereuse, and would like to have an interview
+with you."
+
+"Take a seat, my lord marquis, and speak," said Girdel, looking
+expectantly at his visitor.
+
+"I will not delay you long, Monsieur Girdel," the marquis began; "I know
+you have met with a misfortune--"
+
+"Oh, it was not serious," said the athlete.
+
+"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."
+
+"You don't say so? How did it happen?" cried Girdel.
+
+"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."
+
+"Ah, I understand, the young man of whom you spoke--"
+
+"Was your son, Fanfaro!"
+
+"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?"
+
+"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."
+
+"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."
+
+"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?"
+
+"Candidly, no; the atmosphere of the court has never agreed with me."
+
+"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."
+
+The marquis pronounced the word "son" in a peculiar way, but Girdel
+shook his head.
+
+"I wish Fanfaro was my son," he sighed; "I know of no better luck."
+
+"If the young man is not your son," said the marquis, "then he would
+need my assistance the more. His parents are, perhaps, poor people, and
+my fortune--"
+
+"Fanfaro has no parents any more, my lord marquis."
+
+"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."
+
+"You are mistaken, my lord; I found Fanfaro on the road."
+
+"Impossible! What singular things one hears! Where did you find the
+boy?"
+
+"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, and
+because the poor fellow had blown such fanfares upon the trumpet, we had
+called him Fanfaro."
+
+"Didn't he have any name?" asked the marquis, nervously.
+
+"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--"
+
+"What was the name of this village?" interrupted the marquis, hurriedly.
+
+"Leigoutte, my lord."
+
+The nobleman had almost uttered a cry, but he restrained himself in
+time, and Girdel did not notice his guest's terrible excitement.
+
+"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 to a regular school,
+and yet he knows a great deal. He is a genius, my lord marquis, and a
+treasure for our troupe."
+
+Cold drops of perspiration stood on the nobleman's forehead. No, there
+was no longer any doubt: Fanfaro was his brother's son!
+
+"Have you never been able to find out his family name?" he asked, after
+a pause.
+
+"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--"
+
+At this point the door was hastily opened and Fanfaro entered. He rushed
+upon Girdel and enthusiastically cried:
+
+"Thank God, Papa Girdel, that you are well again."
+
+"You rascal, you," laughed Girdel, looking proudly at the young man.
+"You have found time again to rescue some one."
+
+"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."
+
+"Don't mention it, sir," replied Fanfaro, modestly, "I have only done my
+duty."
+
+"Well I hope if you should ever need me you will let me know. The
+Marquis of Fougereuse is grateful."
+
+When the marquis went downstairs shortly afterward, he found Simon
+awaiting him.
+
+"Simon," he said, hurriedly, "do you know who Fanfaro is?"
+
+"No, my lord."
+
+"He is the son of my brother, Jules de Fougereuse."
+
+"Really?" exclaimed Simon, joyfully, "that would be splendid."
+
+"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?"
+
+"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."
+
+"So much the better; but can he be captured in such a way that there
+will be no outlet for him?"
+
+"I hope so."
+
+"Who gave you this information?" asked the marquis, after Simon had told
+him all that Robeckal had overheard.
+
+"A man called Robeckal; he is a member of Girdel's troupe."
+
+"Good."
+
+The marquis took out a note-book, wrote a few lines, and then said:
+
+"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."
+
+"My lord, I congratulate you," said Simon, respectfully.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X
+
+ESCAPED
+
+
+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.
+
+"Our score will be settled now on one board," he said, with a wink.
+
+The fat woman had looked at him with swimming eyes, and in a maudlin
+voice replied:
+
+"That--is--right--all--must--suffer--Caillette--also!"
+
+"Certainly, Caillette, too," replied Robeckal, inwardly vowing to follow
+his own ideas with respect to this last, and then he hurried after the
+steward.
+
+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:
+
+"Don't put on such airs, you tight-rope princess; what will you do when
+they take your Fanfaro away?"
+
+"Take Fanfaro away? What do you mean?" asked Caillette, frightened,
+overcoming her repulsion, and looking at Rolla.
+
+"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."
+
+Caillette, horror-stricken, listened to the virago's words. Was she
+right, and were her father and Fanfaro in danger?
+
+"I am going to sleep now," said Rolla, "and when I wake up Fanfaro and
+Girdel will have been taken care of."
+
+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.
+
+As she reached Girdel's door, a dark form, which had been crouching near
+the threshold, arose.
+
+"Who's there?" asked Caillette softly.
+
+"I, little Caillette," replied Bobichel's voice. "I am watching, because
+I do not trust Robeckal."
+
+"Oh, Bobichel, there is danger. I must waken father at once."
+
+"What is the matter?"
+
+"Go, wake father and tell him I must speak to him; do not lose a
+minute," urged Caillette.
+
+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.
+
+"What shall we do?" he asked, turning to Fanfaro.
+
+"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."
+
+"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.
+
+"No, master, he has gone."
+
+"Then forward," said the athlete firmly. "I will take Caillette on my
+horse and you two, Fanfaro and Bobichel, mount the second animal."
+
+"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?"
+
+"We must reach Paris as soon as possible," said Fanfaro. "Shall we wake
+the landlord?"
+
+"Not for any money," said Girdel; "we would only bring him into
+trouble."
+
+"You are right," replied Fanfaro; "we must not open the house door
+either, we must go by way of the window."
+
+"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?"
+
+The others remained silent, only Fanfaro said:
+
+"Her present condition is such that we cannot take her along; and,
+besides, there is no danger in store for her."
+
+Girdel scratched his head in embarrassment.
+
+"I will look after her," he finally said, and hurried out.
+
+In about two minutes he returned.
+
+"She is sleeping like a log," he said; "we must leave her here. Schwan
+will take care of her."
+
+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.
+
+"Let the clothes hang," ordered Girdel.
+
+They all crept softly to the stable and in about five minutes were on
+the street.
+
+Bobichel ran alongside Girdel. Suddenly he stopped and hurriedly said:
+
+"I hear the sound of horses' hoofs; we escaped just in time."
+
+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.
+
+"Open in the name of the king," cried the brigadier impatiently.
+
+"Policemen, oh my God!" groaned Schwan, more dead than alive. "There
+must be a mistake here."
+
+"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."
+
+"Whom shall I deliver?" asked Schwan, terror-stricken.
+
+"Two acrobats, named Girdel and Fanfaro," was the answer.
+
+"Girdel and Fanfaro? Oh, Mr. Brigadier, you are mistaken. What are they
+accused of?"
+
+"Treason! They are members of a secret organization, which is directed
+against the monarchy."
+
+"Impossible; it cannot be!" groaned Schwan.
+
+"I will conduct the gentlemen," said Robeckal, coming forward.
+
+"Scoundrel!" muttered the host, while Robeckal preceded the policemen up
+the stairs, and pointed to Girdel's room.
+
+"Open!" cried the brigadier, knocking at the door with the hilt of his
+sword.
+
+As no answer came, he burst open the door, and then uttered an oath.
+
+"Confound them--they have fled!" exclaimed Robeckal.
+
+"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."
+
+"You are right," growled Robeckal; "but they cannot be very far off
+yet."
+
+"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 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.
+
+"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."
+
+"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.
+
+"Villain!" exclaimed Robeckal, angrily, and taking a gun from one of the
+policemen he fired a shot at Bobichel.
+
+Did the shot take effect?
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI
+
+IN PARIS
+
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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:
+
+"The carnival is coming to an end; it's a great pity--we had such fun."
+
+"Fernando, are you getting melancholy?" laughed the second young man.
+
+"Fernando is right," remarked the third; "the last day of the carnival
+is so dull and spiritless that one can 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?"
+
+"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."
+
+"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.
+
+"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."
+
+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 Angouleme 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.
+
+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 acquainted with everything that went on in the great
+world.
+
+"Where is Frederic?" asked Arthur now.
+
+"Really, he seems to have forgotten us," replied Fernando, "I cannot
+understand what delays him so long."
+
+"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."
+
+"Poor fellow!"
+
+"He is not to be pitied. The Countess of Salves is a charming girl."
+
+"Bah, she is going to become his wife."
+
+"So much the more reason that he should love her before the marriage;
+afterward, it isn't considered good form to have such feelings."
+
+"He loves her, then?"
+
+"I am very grateful to you, gentlemen; even in my absence you occupy
+yourselves with my affairs," said a clear, sharp voice now.
+
+"Frederic, at last; where have you been?"
+
+"Oh, I have been standing over five minutes behind you, and heard your
+conversation."
+
+"Has it insulted you?" asked Gaston, laughing.
+
+Frederic did not answer immediately; he let his gaze fall pityingly over
+his companion, and Gaston hastily said:
+
+"Really, Frederic, your splendor throws us in the shade; look at him, he
+has no mask, and is dressed after the latest fashion."
+
+The costume of the last comer was, indeed, much more elegant than those
+of the other young men. A 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.
+
+Frederic allowed himself to be admired by his friends, and then said:
+
+"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."
+
+"Frederic is right," said Gaston, "let us hurry to do so."
+
+"I shall await you here and bring you then to Robert; or better still,
+you can meet me at the Cafe Valois."
+
+The three masks left, and the Vicomte Talizac, for he was the last
+comer, remained alone.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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:
+
+"Sir, can I see you for a moment?"
+
+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:
+
+"I am at your service, sir."
+
+The vicomte walked toward the street and the man followed. On a deserted
+corner they both stopped, and the vicomte began:
+
+"Monsieur, first I must ask you to tell me your name; I am the Vicomte
+de Talizac."
+
+"I know it," replied the young man coldly.
+
+"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."
+
+The young man grew pale but he replied with indomitable courage:
+
+"I don't know what we two could ever have in common."
+
+"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."
+
+"Well, what else?"
+
+"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--"
+
+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:
+
+"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."
+
+"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."
+
+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:
+
+"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 companions, and take your presence out of the society of
+respectable people."
+
+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:
+
+"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.
+
+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:
+
+"You are punctual, vicomte; your friends can vouch for that."
+
+The vicomte kept silent, and Fernando, lowering his voice, continued:
+
+"What was the difficulty between you and the young man? You wanted to
+kill him. Are you acquainted with him?"
+
+"No, I hardly know him; you overheard us?"
+
+"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!"
+
+The words, and the tone in which they had been said, wounded Talizac's
+self-love, and he sharply replied:
+
+"If it pleases me, Signor Velletri!"
+
+The Italian laughed, and then said, in an indifferent tone:
+
+"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."
+
+"What do you mean, signor?"
+
+"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!"
+
+The vicomte grew pale, and he mechanically clinched his fist.
+
+"How--do--you--know--this?" he finally stammered.
+
+The Italian drew an elegant portfolio from his pocket, and took a piece
+of stamped paper from it.
+
+"Here is the _corpus delicti_," he said, laughing.
+
+"But how did it get into your hands?"
+
+"Oh, in a very simple way: I bought and paid for it."
+
+"You, signor? For what purpose?"
+
+"Could it not be for the purpose of doing you a service?"
+
+The vicomte shrugged his shoulders; he had no faith in his fellow-men.
+
+"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 and acknowledge that this small
+reciprocation is worth the favor I am showing you."
+
+"Then you will return the paper to me?" cried the vicomte, stretching
+out his hand for it.
+
+"No, the paper does not belong to me."
+
+"But you just said--"
+
+"That I bought it, certainly. I paid the price for it only because I
+received the amount from several friends."
+
+"And these friends--"
+
+"Are the defenders and supporters of the monarchy; they will not harm
+you."
+
+Talizac became pensive.
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+"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 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?"
+
+"No," replied Velletri, calmly.
+
+"None at all. She turned her back to me."
+
+"Impossible," observed the Italian, laughing; "well, I suspect that the
+knight without fear or reproach followed up the thing?"
+
+"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?"
+
+"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."
+
+"Then you know the man? I sent my servant after 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."
+
+"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."
+
+"And the means?"
+
+"Simply tell her the name of her admirer."
+
+"Yes; but he didn't mention his name to me."
+
+"That does not surprise me. He was formerly an acrobat, and his name is
+Fanfaro."
+
+The vicomte laughed boisterously. Fanfaro, a former acrobat, ran after
+young, noble ladies--it was too comical!
+
+"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."
+
+The Italian, who had witnessed the scene in which Fanfaro had refused to
+cross weapons with a Talizac, laughed maliciously.
+
+"The companions of the former acrobat are, no doubt, ignorant of whom
+they are dealing with?" asked Talizac.
+
+"On the contrary, they know him well."
+
+"I don't understand it! They speak to him, shake hands with him; it is
+extraordinary."
+
+The vicomte's stupidity excited the Italian's pity, but he did not allow
+his feelings to be perceived, and said:
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+They had not gone far when the vicomte paused and nudged his friend.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"You are alone to-day?" he boldly asked.
+
+The young girl trembled from head to foot and walked on. The vicomte
+gazed after her, and the Italian laughingly observed:
+
+"The 'Marquise' is very strict to-day."
+
+Thereupon he bent down and picked something up from the ground.
+
+"Here, vicomte, is your money; the little one threw it away."
+
+The vicomte uttered a cry of rage.
+
+"The impertinent hussy!" he hissed.
+
+"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."
+
+"Fernando, I really believe you play the spy upon me!" exclaimed
+Talizac; "have a care, my patience has its limits."
+
+"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."
+
+"Velletri, you are right," replied Talizac; "yes, I will revenge myself
+upon Fanfaro and possess this girl. What am I peer of France for?"
+
+"Bravo, vicomte, you please me now--let us go to dinner, and then--"
+
+"But the 'Marquise'?"
+
+"Have patience. You will be satisfied with me."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII
+
+THE "MARQUISE."
+
+
+Mardi-Gras had come and folly reigned supreme at Paris. Opposite the
+Cafe 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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"Louison--little Louison!"
+
+"The poor thing--she has woke up," sighed the girl as she approached the
+small bed which stood in the equally small space.
+
+"Mamma, how goes it?" she asked.
+
+The form which lay on the bed looked almost 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.
+
+"Thirst, Louison," stammered the woman, pulling her long gray hair over
+her eyes.
+
+"There, mamma, drink," said Louison, bending tenderly over the poor
+woman.
+
+The woman drank eagerly the glass of milk offered, and then muttered
+softly to herself.
+
+"It is so warm, I am burning, everywhere there are flames."
+
+The poor woman was crazy, and no one would have ever recognized in her,
+Louise, the wife of the landlord Jules Fougeres.
+
+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.
+
+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
+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.
+
+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."
+
+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.
+
+The nuns of the neighboring convent took the child, taught it what they
+knew themselves, and a few years passed peacefully for Louison.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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 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.
+
+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.
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+The sobriquet of the "Marquise" had been given to 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.
+
+As the old woman handed the empty glass back to the girl, Louison
+cheerfully said:
+
+"Mother, I must go out; promise me that you will be good during my
+absence."
+
+"Good," repeated the maniac.
+
+"Then you can put on your new cap to-morrow."
+
+"The one with the ribbons?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Oh, then I will be good."
+
+The poor thing clapped her hands, but suddenly she uttered a cry of
+pain.
+
+"Ah!--my head--it is burning!"
+
+Louison, with heavenly patience, caressed her gray hair and calmed her.
+
+"Ah! where is the box?" the maniac complained after a while.
+
+"To-morrow I will bring it to you," said the songstress, who knew the
+whims of the sick woman.
+
+"Do not forget it," said the old woman; "in that box is luck. Oh, where
+did I put it?"
+
+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:
+
+"Who is there?"
+
+"A friend," came back in a loud voice.
+
+"Your name?"
+
+"You do not know me."
+
+"Tell me your name."
+
+"Robeckal; please admit me."
+
+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?
+
+"Well, are you going to open?" cried Robeckal, becoming impatient.
+
+Hesitatingly Louison pushed back the bolt, and with a sigh of relief she
+saw Robeckal's face; no, that was not the vicomte.
+
+"H'm, mademoiselle, you thought perhaps that I was a beggar?" asked
+Robeckal, mockingly.
+
+"Please tell me quickly what you want," cried Louison, hurriedly. "I
+must go out, and have no time to lose."
+
+"You might offer me a chair, anyway," growled Robeckal, looking steadily
+at the handsome girl.
+
+"I told you before I am in a hurry," replied Louison, coldly; "therefore
+please do not delay me unnecessarily."
+
+Robeckal saw that the best thing he could do would be to come to the
+point at once, and grinning maliciously, he said:
+
+"Mademoiselle, would you like to earn some money?"
+
+"That depends--go on."
+
+"Let me first speak about myself. I am an extra waiter. Do you know what
+that is?"
+
+"Yes, you assist in saloons on Sundays and holidays."
+
+"Right. For the past three days I have been at The Golden Calf, just in
+the street above."
+
+"Ah, by Monsieur Aube?"
+
+"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!'
+
+"'The "Marquise," master,' I replied.
+
+"'But will she come?'
+
+"'H'm, we must ask her. How much do you intend to spend?'
+
+"'Twenty francs.'
+
+"'Good,' I said, 'I will ask her,' and here I am."
+
+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 _protegee_ with it.
+
+"Did not Monsieur Aube give you a letter for me?" she asked, still
+hesitating.
+
+"No, mademoiselle. Do you mistrust me?"
+
+"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."
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+"I shall come," she said firmly; "when shall I make my appearance?"
+
+"At eight o'clock."
+
+"And when will I be done?"
+
+A peculiar smile, unnoticed by Louison, played about Robeckal's lips.
+
+"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."
+
+"No, but it must not be later than midnight."
+
+"On no account, mademoiselle; if you are afraid, why, I will see you
+home," Robeckal gallantly cried.
+
+"Good--tell Monsieur Aube I shall be punctual."
+
+"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."
+
+"With pleasure."
+
+"Then good-by until this evening."
+
+Robeckal hurried down the five flights of stairs. In front of the house
+a man enveloped in a wide mantle walked up and down.
+
+When he saw Robeckal, he anxiously asked:
+
+"Well?"
+
+"It is settled."
+
+"Really? Will she come?"
+
+"Certainly."
+
+The man in the cloak, who was no other than Fernando de Velletri, let
+some gold pieces slip into Robeckal's hand.
+
+"If everything goes all right, you will get five hundred francs more,"
+he cried.
+
+"It is as good as if I had the money already in my pocket. Besides, the
+racket is rather cheap, for the little one is a picture."
+
+"So much the better," laughed the Italian.
+
+While the worthy pair were discussing their plans, Louison went as usual
+to the boulevards and sang her pretty songs.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+These visitors, strange to say, looked very respectable; most of them
+appeared to be old soldiers. They certainly had no need to learn magic.
+
+The large hall was filled to the last seat, and the waiters ran here and
+there with dishes, when an elegant equipage drove up and immediately
+afterward the stentorian voice of the landlord cried:
+
+"Jean, the gentlemen who have ordered room No. 11 have arrived. Conduct
+them upstairs."
+
+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.
+
+"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?"
+
+The waiter threw an angry look at Arthur, who had dared to call the
+Golden Calf a hole.
+
+"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."
+
+Jean hastily drew back, and only the thought of losing his tip prevailed
+upon him to serve his customers.
+
+"Now we are alone," said Arthur, "and we'll finally find out all about
+it--"
+
+"I must beg your pardon once more," interrupted the vicomte, "but before
+dessert I never bother about serious affairs."
+
+"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:
+
+"Champagne, bring champagne!"
+
+"Well, I must say that you end the Carnival in a worthy way," laughed
+Velletri.
+
+"Bah! I must drown my troubles in champagne," replied the vicomte,
+shrugging his shoulders. "I tell you, my friends, I had a conversation
+with my father to-day which made me wild."
+
+"Ah, it was about your marriage, no doubt!" said the Italian.
+
+"Yes. The marquis wants me to go to the altar in fourteen days. That
+would be a fine thing."
+
+"But I thought the marriage was a good one for both sides; the fortune
+of the Salves--"
+
+"Oh, bother with the fortune!" interrupted the vicomte.
+
+"And, besides, the young countess is very beautiful," continued Arthur.
+
+"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--"
+
+"Frederic," interrupted Velletri, warningly; he feared that the vicomte
+would inform young Montferrand what had occurred between his bride and
+the acrobat.
+
+"Well," said Arthur, hastily, "I hope that when Irene de Salves becomes
+your bride you will be more pleasant to her."
+
+"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."
+
+"Perhaps I shall make use of the permission," laughed Arthur,
+carelessly.
+
+"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!"
+
+"That is unselfish," said the Italian; "not every one is so liberal with
+his wife."
+
+"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--"
+
+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.
+
+"What a pity," he said, "that one cannot hear this nightingale nearer."
+
+"Why should not that be possible?" cried the vicomte, springing up as if
+electrified.
+
+Fernando grew frightened. This idea might disturb his plan.
+
+"What is there in a street-singer?" he contemptuously asked.
+
+Talizac, however, who was under the influence of the champagne he had
+drunk, did not understand the hint, and angrily exclaimed:
+
+"Now she shall just come upstairs; first she must sing to us, and
+then--"
+
+"And then?" repeated Arthur curiously.
+
+"Ah, it is merely a little surprise we arranged for the little one,"
+observed Velletri, with a cynical laugh.
+
+"What! a surprise?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"And she does not suspect anything?"
+
+"Nothing."
+
+"Well, I am curious to see the little one; let us call Aube, he can show
+his singer to us."
+
+"Gentlemen, no folly," warned Velletri, "we are not in the Palais Royal
+here, and in some things the mob does not see any fun."
+
+"I will attend to the people downstairs," said Arthur, while the vicomte
+rang loudly.
+
+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.
+
+"Monsieur Aube," began the vicomte, "who is the little bird that sings
+so beautifully downstairs?"
+
+"A young, modest, and very respectable girl, gentlemen."
+
+The young men burst into loud laughter.
+
+"A saint, then?" exclaimed Arthur.
+
+"Really, gentlemen, she is very virtuous and respectable."
+
+"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."
+
+Monsieur Aube did not know what to do.
+
+"What are you waiting for?" asked the vicomte, in a maudlin voice.
+
+"Gentlemen, the little one is so pure," said the landlord, earnestly.
+
+"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?"
+
+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 _protegee_. Even if the other
+two were drunk, the Italian was sober; and so the host finally said:
+
+"I will send the little one."
+
+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.
+
+"Louison," he softly said, "I have got a good business to propose to
+you."
+
+"What is it, Father Aube?"
+
+The landlord, somewhat embarrassed, stammeringly answered:
+
+"If you desire you can make one hundred francs in fifteen minutes."
+
+"So much? You are joking?"
+
+"Not at all; you sing two or three songs, and the money is earned."
+
+"Where shall I sing?"
+
+"Here in my house, on the first story."
+
+At this minute the hall-door opened and loud laughter came from above.
+Louison looked anxiously at the host and asked:
+
+"Who wants to hear me?"
+
+"Some guests, Louison; high-toned guests."
+
+"Are they ladies and gentlemen, or only gentlemen?"
+
+"Gentlemen, jolly young gentlemen."
+
+"And if I go up will you stay in the neighborhood?"
+
+"Certainly; this house is my house, and you are under my protection."
+
+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--
+
+"I agree," she said, picking up her guitar; "when shall I go up?"
+
+"Directly, Louison, I will accompany you."
+
+"H'm, what does that mean?" exclaimed a solid-looking citizen as he saw
+Louison go up the stairs; "is the performance over?"
+
+"No," said Aube to his guests, "Louison will sing more later on. Have a
+little patience."
+
+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.
+
+"'Marquise,' will you be so kind as to sing us a song?" asked Arthur,
+politely.
+
+Louison's modesty began to have a good influence on him, and he already
+regretted having assisted Talizac in his plan.
+
+Louison tuned her instrument and then began to sing a pretty little air.
+Montferrand and Velletri listened 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.
+
+"Continue your song, my pretty child," giggled the vicomte; "I hope I
+have not frightened you?"
+
+As he said this he tried to put his arm around Louison's waist.
+
+She recoiled as if stung by a rattlesnake.
+
+"I will not sing any more," she said firmly; "let me go."
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+"Miserable cowards!" she contemptuously exclaimed. "Will you permit a
+drunken scoundrel to insult a defenceless girl?"
+
+Arthur sprang up. A flash of shame was on his classically formed
+features, and turning to Talizac he hastily said:
+
+"She is right, vicomte; are you not ashamed?"
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"Help! murder!" cried Louison in desperation. She did not think of
+escape. She hoped Aube would make his appearance.
+
+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.
+
+"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!"
+
+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, 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.
+
+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.
+
+"Merciful God!" he despairingly cried, "where is the poor child? I
+promised her I would protect her, and now--"
+
+"The scoundrels have abducted her!" exclaimed Arthur, who had in the
+meantime recovered. "It was a shrewdly planned piece of business."
+
+"Abducted her? Impossible!" cried the landlord, looking at Arthur in
+amazement. "Who are the men?"
+
+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:
+
+"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."
+
+"Who speaks of Talizac and Fougereuse?" cried a fresh voice, and a very
+handsome man approached Monsieur Aube.
+
+"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!"
+
+"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."
+
+"May God reward you, Monsieur Fanfaro; oh, if it is only not too late."
+
+"Monsieur Aube," asked Fanfaro, politely, "what is the matter?"
+
+"A young girl--it will bring me to my grave when I think that such a
+thing should happen in my house--I--"
+
+"Landlord," interrupted Arthur, "let me tell the story to the gentleman.
+
+"Unfortunately," continued Montferrand, turning to Fanfaro, "I am mixed
+up in the affair myself. I let myself be persuaded by the Vicomte de
+Talizac--"
+
+"I thought so," growled Fanfaro.
+
+"And his friend Velletri to accompany them here--"
+
+"Velletri? The Italian spy? The tool of the Jesuits, who treacherously
+betrayed his own countrymen, the Carbonari?" asked Fanfaro,
+contemptuously.
+
+"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."
+
+"The scoundrels! Where have they carried the poor child to?"
+
+"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 the affair, and inwardly vowing never again to have anything to do
+with the scoundrels who bear noble names.
+
+"But the girl, no doubt, has relatives, parents or friends, who will
+follow her traces?"
+
+"No," replied Aube, "she is an orphan, and is called the 'Marquise.'"
+
+"Why has she received that sobriquet?"
+
+"I do not know. She is a very respectable girl."
+
+"Where does she live?"
+
+"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."
+
+"If Robeckal had a hand in the affair then it can only be a scoundrelly
+one!" exclaimed Fanfaro, with a frown.
+
+"Do you know him?"
+
+"Unfortunately, yes; tell me what more do you know?"
+
+"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--"
+
+"Louison?" cried Fanfaro, in affright.
+
+"Yes; why, what is the matter with you?"
+
+"Nothing; tell me how old is the girl?"
+
+"About sixteen."
+
+"My God, that would just be right; but no, it cannot be."
+
+"Monsieur Fanfaro," said Montferrand, gently, "can I do anything for
+you, you seem to be in trouble?"
+
+"Oh, I have a horrible suspicion, I cannot explain it to you now, but
+the age and the name agree. Ah, that infamous Talizac! again and again
+he crosses my path; but if I catch him now, I will stamp upon him like a
+worm!"
+
+"Do you intend to follow the robbers?"
+
+"Certainly, I must rescue the girl."
+
+"Monsieur Fanfaro," said Montferrand, "do with me what you will, I will
+help you!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII
+
+THE PURSUIT
+
+
+Fanfaro looked gratefully at the young nobleman and then said:
+
+"Please tell me your name, so that I may know whom I am under
+obligations to?"
+
+"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.
+
+Fanfaro bowed and then hurriedly said:
+
+"Let us not lose any more time; I--"
+
+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:
+
+"Open in the name of the law!"
+
+Fanfaro trembled.
+
+"The police!" exclaimed Aube, breathing more freely; "perhaps the
+robbers have already been captured."
+
+Fanfaro laid his hand upon Aube's shoulder.
+
+"Monsieur Aube," he said bitterly, "the police to-day do not bother
+about such trivial affairs. The minions of Louis XVIII. hunt different
+game."
+
+"Open," came louder than before, "or we shall burst in the door."
+
+"My God! my God! what a day this is," complained Aube, sinking
+helplessly on a chair; "what do the police want in my house?"
+
+"Monsieur Aube, they seek conspirators, heroes of freedom and justice,"
+said Fanfaro earnestly.
+
+"How so? What do you mean?" asked Aube, opening wide his eyes and
+looking at the young man.
+
+"I am one of the men the police are looking for," exclaimed Fanfaro
+coolly.
+
+"You!" exclaimed Montferrand in terror, "then you are lost."
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+"I must say, Monsieur Aube," cried the inspector angrily, "you took a
+long time to obey his majesty's order."
+
+"But at this time of night," stammered Aube. "What are you looking for,
+inspector?"
+
+"Ask rather whom I am looking for?" retorted the inspector.
+
+His gaze fell on Arthur, who did not look very attractive with his
+bloody clothes and torn shirt.
+
+"Who is this tramp?" asked the inspector roughly.
+
+"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."
+
+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:
+
+"I have got a painful mission. I am to look for a 'suspect' in this
+house."
+
+"A 'suspect'?" whispered Aube, anxiously.
+
+"Yes; conspirators who threaten the sacred person of the king."
+
+"And you are looking for these people in my house?" asked Aube,
+apparently overwhelmed at the intelligence.
+
+"Yes, they are said to live here; two acrobats, named Girdel and
+Fanfaro."
+
+"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.
+
+Arthur and the landlord exchanged knowing looks as the inspector strode
+toward the door. Fanfaro must be in safety by this time.
+
+"The house is surrounded," said the inspector, as he went away, "and I
+think we shall have little to do."
+
+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.
+
+"Open, in the name of the law!" thundered a voice, which shook the
+house; and then followed, hardly less loud, the angry exclamation:
+
+"By Jupiter, the nest is empty; the birds have flown!"
+
+At this moment a voice cried from the street:
+
+"Inspector, they are escaping over the roofs."
+
+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.
+
+"Forward, men," cried the inspector. "We must catch them, dead or
+alive."
+
+In a moment, Simon had bounded up the stairs and now stood near the
+official at the skylight.
+
+"How slanting that roof is!" growled the inspector. "One misstep and you
+lie in the street."
+
+He carefully climbed out; Simon followed, and then they both looked
+around for the escaped conspirators.
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+"Surrender!" cried the inspector, holding himself on a chimney.
+
+Fanfaro now rose upright. He made a jump and the next minute he was on
+the neighboring roof.
+
+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.
+
+Girdel now clambered to the edge of the roof, grasped the rope with both
+hands, and began to work his way across to Fanfaro.
+
+"Quick, a knife!" cried the inspector.
+
+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:
+
+"Stop, inspector, are you out of your senses?"
+
+The policeman was no longer able to heed the warning. The knife had done
+its duty, the rope was cut!
+
+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:
+
+"Attention, the rope is cut, take your teeth."
+
+Girdel understood at once, and his mighty jaws held the rope firmly.
+
+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.
+
+The roof was at length reached. Fanfaro swung his arms about Girdel, and
+the next minute they both disappeared behind a tall chimney!
+
+"Papa Girdel, we have nothing to fear now," said Fanfaro, laughing; but
+soon he thought of Louison, and he sighed heavily.
+
+"What is the matter with you, my boy?" asked Girdel, in amazement.
+
+"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."
+
+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:
+
+"We are at a street corner."
+
+"That is a fatal surprise," growled Girdel; "what shall we do now?"
+
+"We must try to reach a roof-pipe and glide down."
+
+"That is easier said than done. Where will you find a roof-pipe able to
+sustain my weight?"
+
+Fanfaro looked at Girdel in amazement. He had not thought of that.
+
+"Then let us try to find a skylight and get into some house," he said,
+after a pause.
+
+"Suppose the window leads to an inhabited room?" observed Girdel.
+
+"Then we can explain our perilous position. We will not be likely to
+tumble into a policeman's house."
+
+"Let us hope for the best," replied Girdel.
+
+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!
+
+"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 roof, a hand armed with a tallow candle appeared
+in the opening.
+
+"I will light the gentlemen," continued the voice.
+
+"Bobichel, is it you?" cried Fanfaro, joyously.
+
+"Certainly, and I ought to know you," was the reply; "really, the master
+and Fanfaro."
+
+"Bobichel," said Girdel, greatly astonished, "is it really you? We
+thought you were dead!"
+
+"Bah! a clown can stand a scratch; but come quickly into my room, it is
+cold outside."
+
+Girdel and Fanfaro entered the small attic and Bobichel received his old
+comrades cordially.
+
+"The ball did not hit you, then?" asked Girdel; "we thought you were
+gone."
+
+"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?"
+
+"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."
+
+"But why are you pursued?" asked Bobichel, anxiously. "Do you belong to
+the conspiracy of which there is so much talk?"
+
+"Probably," replied Girdel.
+
+"Is there a place for me in the conspiracy?" asked the clown,
+vivaciously, "I am without employment just now, and if you wish to take
+me in tow, I--"
+
+"We shall attend to it," said Fanfaro, cordially.
+
+"How is little Caillette getting on?" asked Bobichel, after a pause.
+
+"Very well, thank you. We shall let her know to-morrow morning that we
+are safe."
+
+"Then she is in Paris, too?"
+
+"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."
+
+"Bobichel's eyes knew that long ago," laughed Fanfaro. "Go to bed, old
+friend, you are tired."
+
+"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."
+
+"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."
+
+Bobichel hesitated no longer; he threw himself on his hard couch and in
+less than five minutes he was fast asleep.
+
+As soon as Girdel found himself alone with Fanfaro, he said, in an
+anxious voice:
+
+"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."
+
+"If you only could," sighed Fanfaro; "but you are right, I will tell
+you all. First, Papa Girdel, I must ask you a few questions about my
+past--"
+
+"Speak; what do you wish to know?"
+
+"What did you find out about my mother?"
+
+"That she was the victim of a conflagration. She was in a farmhouse
+which had been set fire to by Cossacks."
+
+"And my father?"
+
+"He died the death of a hero, fighting for his country."
+
+"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."
+
+"I know, I know," said Girdel, sorrowfully.
+
+"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."
+
+"Impossible! Monsieur Aube is a brave man," exclaimed Girdel,
+impatiently.
+
+"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."
+
+"And his name?"
+
+"Vicomte de Talizac."
+
+"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."
+
+"Like father like son. The proverb says that the apple doesn't fall far
+from the tree. The young girl whom Talizac abducted is named Louison,
+and I--"
+
+"My poor boy, you do not really think--"
+
+"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."
+
+"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!"
+
+"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--"
+
+"Is there nothing for Bobichel to do?" asked the clown, sitting up in
+his bed.
+
+"Oh, Bobichel!" exclaimed Fanfaro, gratefully, "if you want to help us?"
+
+"Of course I do. I will accompany master to Robeckal, for I also have a
+bone to pick with the scoundrel."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV
+
+LOUISE
+
+
+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.
+
+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?
+
+"Quick, open--it is on account of Louison," came again from the outside.
+It was Fanfaro who demanded entrance.
+
+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 his mind quickly, he pressed in the
+window, and the next minute he was in the room.
+
+"Where is Louison, madame?" he exclaimed.
+
+The woman did not answer; she looked steadily at him and plunged her
+fingers in her gray hair.
+
+"Madame, listen to me. Louison has been abducted. Don't you know
+anything?"
+
+The poor thing still remained silent, even though her lips trembled
+convulsively, and the deep-set eyes gazed steadily at the young man.
+
+"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?"
+
+At length a word came from the burned woman's breast.
+
+"Jacques, Jacques!" she stammered, clutching the young man's knees and
+looking at him.
+
+Fanfaro trembled. Who was this horrible woman who called him by the name
+of his childhood?
+
+"Louison! Jacques!" uttered the toothless lips, and hot, scalding tears
+rolled over the scarred cheeks.
+
+A flood of never-before-felt emotions rushed over Fanfaro; he tenderly
+bent over the poor woman, and gently said:
+
+"You called me Jacques. I was called that once. What do you know of me?"
+
+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.
+
+"I will tell you what I know of the past," continued Fanfaro, slowly. "I
+formerly lived at Leigoutte in the Vosges. My father's name was Jules,
+my mother's Louise, and my little sister Louison--where is Louison?"
+
+At last a ray of reason broke from the disfigured eyes, and she
+whispered:
+
+"Jacques, my dear Jacques! I am Louise, your mother, and the wife of
+Jules Fougeres!"
+
+"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:
+
+"I have you again. God be thanked!"
+
+"But where is Louison?" broke in Fanfaro, anxiously.
+
+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.
+
+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:
+
+"Mother, where is Louison? Your little Louison, my sister?"
+
+"Louison?" repeated the sick woman, with flaming eyes. "Oh, she is good;
+she brings me fruit and flowers."
+
+"But where is she now?"
+
+"Gone," moaned the invalid.
+
+"Gone? Where to?"
+
+"I do not know. Her bed is empty."
+
+"Then I was not deceived. She has been abducted by that scoundrel,
+Talizac!"
+
+"Talizac?" repeated the maniac, with a foolish laugh. "Oh, I know him,
+do not let him in; he brings unhappiness--unhappiness!"
+
+"Then he has been here?" cried Fanfaro, terror-stricken.
+
+"No, not here--in--Sachemont--I--oh! my poor head."
+
+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.
+
+"Girdel, thank Heaven!" cried Fanfaro, recognizing the athlete, "have
+you found Robeckal?"
+
+"No, the wretches moved out of their former residence in the Rue
+Vinaigrier, yesterday, and no one could tell us where they went."
+
+"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."
+
+"Impossible!" stammered Girdel.
+
+"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:
+
+"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."
+
+"You are right, Bobichel," said Fanfaro, and, pressing a kiss upon his
+mother's forehead, he ran off with Girdel and the clown.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV
+
+SWINDLED
+
+
+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.
+
+"Where are you bringing me to?" cried Louison in terror, as she saw the
+carriage take a wrong direction.
+
+"Keep still, my little pigeon," laughed Robeckal, "I am bringing you to
+a place where it will please you."
+
+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.
+
+"Silence, minx!" exclaimed Robeckal roughly, and pulling a cloth out of
+his pocket he held it in front of Louison's face.
+
+"Ah, now you are getting tame," he mockingly 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.
+
+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.
+
+"Ah, here you are; let me see the chicken!"
+
+With these words Rolla received her comrade.
+
+She put the lamp close to Louison's face, and then said:
+
+"Your Talizac hasn't got bad taste; the little one is handsome."
+
+"Is everything in order?" asked Robeckal, going up the stairs after the
+"Cannon Queen."
+
+"Certainly, look for yourself."
+
+Robeckal entered an elegantly furnished room, and, placing Louison on a
+sofa, he said in a commendatory tone:
+
+"It's pretty fair."
+
+"Don't you think so? Leave the rest to me; I have a grand idea."
+
+"An idea?" repeated Robeckal, doubtingly.
+
+"Yes, an idea that will bring us in a nice sum of money."
+
+"Then I am satisfied. If the little one only does not cause us any
+embarrassment."
+
+"No fear of that. In the first place she should sleep."
+
+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 them, and Rolla poured the liquid down Louison's throat.
+
+"Now come downstairs with me," she said, turning to Robeckal, "and if
+your vicomte comes you will praise me."
+
+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.
+
+"Here they are," said Robeckal, hastily emptying his glass and going to
+the street door, from whence came the sound of loud knocks.
+
+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.
+
+"A glass of water!" commanded the vicomte, in a rough voice, turning to
+Rolla.
+
+The fat woman looked angrily at him, and while she brought the water she
+muttered to herself:
+
+"Wait now. You shall pay dearly for your coarseness."
+
+Talizac drank, and then said:
+
+"Is the little one here?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"You haven't done anything to her, have you?"
+
+"What do you take me for?" growled Rolla.
+
+"Bring me some wash water," said the vicomte, 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."
+
+"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.'"
+
+"Go on; where is she?"
+
+"In the upper story--she is sleeping."
+
+"So much the better. I will lavish my affection on her, and see if she
+is still as prudish."
+
+Rolla preceded the vicomte up the stairs. As she went past she exchanged
+a quick glance with Robeckal, and the latter growled to himself:
+
+"There is something up with her; I will watch and help her should it be
+necessary."
+
+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:
+
+"Open it."
+
+"One moment, we are not as far as that yet. Just look at the little one
+first."
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"Isn't she charming?" giggled Rolla.
+
+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:
+
+"I love you dearly!"
+
+"Open," he hastily ordered.
+
+Rolla let the window fall again and looked impertinently at him.
+
+"My lord," she said, with a courtesy, "before I open this door you will
+pay me twenty thousand francs."
+
+"Woman, are you mad?"
+
+"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."
+
+"Enough of this foolish talk," cried the vicomte, in a rage. "I paid
+your comrade the sum he demanded, and that settles it."
+
+"You are more stupid than I thought," laughed Rolla. "If you do not pay,
+nothing will come of the affair."
+
+"But this is a swindle," said the vicomte.
+
+"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--"
+
+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.
+
+"What is the matter?" he angrily cried.
+
+"Your friend the vicomte forgot his purse and thinks he can get the
+girl on credit," mockingly replied Rolla.
+
+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.
+
+"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."
+
+"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."
+
+"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?"
+
+"Our honor, vicomte," replied Rolla, grinning. "We think as much of our
+reputation as high-toned people."
+
+"Scoundrels," muttered Talizac, as he went away with Velletri. "If we
+could only do without them!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI
+
+MACHIAVELLI AND COMPANY
+
+
+The Marquis of Fougereuse was sitting in his study, and Simon stood
+beside him.
+
+"So he has escaped from us again?" remarked the marquis frowning.
+
+"God knows how it happened, my lord; my plans were all so well laid that
+I cannot understand how the affair fell through?"
+
+"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?"
+
+"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."
+
+"Very good; but still the attempt must be really made, so that Fanfaro
+could be convicted."
+
+"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."
+
+Before the marquis could express his satisfaction, the Marquis of
+Montferrand was announced.
+
+"A visit at this hour!" cried Fougereuse, in amazement; "it is hardly
+seven o'clock."
+
+"The gentleman comes on important business, as he informed me," said the
+servant.
+
+"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.
+
+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.
+
+The old man looked pale. He hastily approached the marquis and said:
+
+"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."
+
+"You are speaking in riddles, marquis!" exclaimed Fougereuse, in
+amazement.
+
+"So much the worse for you, if your son's conduct must be told you by
+another party," said the old man, sternly.
+
+"What is the matter with my son?"
+
+"The Vicomte de Talizac has dishonored himself and the cause you serve."
+
+"My son is young and wild. Has he again committed one of his stupid
+follies?" asked the marquis, uneasily.
+
+"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."
+
+"Impossible!" cried Fougereuse, in a rage.
+
+"I am speaking the truth," declared the old gentleman, calmly.
+
+"What was the nature of this dastardly act?"
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+The marquis excitedly approached her.
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+"Monsieur le Marquis," she politely said, "my son desired me to offer
+you his apologies."
+
+"Apology?" repeated Montferrand, coldly, "for the box on the ear he
+got?"
+
+"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?"
+
+"Perfectly sufficient," said Montferrand, gallantly kissing the
+marquise's hand.
+
+"Then we can count on seeing you to-night at our house?" asked
+Madeleine. "I have a surprise in store for my friends."
+
+"Can one find out in advance the nature of it?" asked Montferrand, while
+Fougereuse looked anxiously at Madeleine.
+
+"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.
+
+"Oh, I call that a surprise," cried Fougereuse, more freely, and
+Montferrand hastened to extend his congratulations.
+
+"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."
+
+"It is only what one might expect from the Marquise of Fougereuse," said
+Montferrand politely, as he rose. "Good-by then, until this evening."
+
+The marquis accompanied the old man to the door, then returned to his
+wife and excitedly asked:
+
+"Madeleine, is all this true?"
+
+Instead of answering, the marquise contemptuously shrugged her shoulders
+and left the room to hunt up her son.
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII
+
+LOUISON
+
+
+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.
+
+"Well, my pigeon, how goes it?" she asked, grinning.
+
+"My head hurts," replied Louison faintly, and throwing an anxious look
+about the strange apartment, she timidly added: "Where am I?"
+
+"Where are you? Among good people certainly, who have become interested
+in you and will do what's right."
+
+Louison was silent and tried to collect her thoughts. But it was no use,
+she had to close her eyes again from exhaustion.
+
+"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 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--"
+
+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:
+
+"Let me go or you shall be sorry for it!"
+
+Rolla looked at the street-singer with a foolish laugh, and, shaking her
+thick head, she laconically said:
+
+"Stay here."
+
+"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."
+
+"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."
+
+"You lie!" cried Louison, in desperation.
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+"Minx!" hissed Robeckal, forcibly holding her back and throwing her to
+the ground.
+
+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:
+
+"For the next few hours you are done for, you little hussy."
+
+"If it were only not too much," said Rolla, as Louison, groaning loudly,
+sank backward and closed her eyes.
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+Toward six o'clock the vicomte entered. He threw a well-filled
+pocket-book on the table, and in a tone of command said: "The key!"
+
+"First we will count," growled Rolla; and opening the pocket-book with
+her fat hands she passed the contents in review.
+
+"It is correct," she finally said; and taking the key out of her pocket
+she handed it to the vicomte.
+
+As soon as the latter had left the room, Rolla shoved the pocket-book in
+her dirty dress, and hastily said:
+
+"Come, Robeckal, the little one might make a noise. Let him see how he
+will get through with her."
+
+Robeckal acquiesced, and they both quickly left the house, leaving all
+the doors open behind them.
+
+They had hardly been gone, when a cry of rage rang through the house,
+and immediately afterward the vicomte burst into the room.
+
+"You have deceived me," he cried, in a rage; "the window is open and the
+girl is gone!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII
+
+THE CANAL
+
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+What had the virago said? "Too late, too late, too late!" The horrible
+words rang in her ears like a death-knell; every pulse-beat repeated,
+"Too late!"
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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--
+
+
+Robeckal and Rolla hurried through the streets with feverish haste. The
+ground burned under their feet, and 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.
+
+"What does this mean?" he angrily cried, as he turned around, "a--"
+
+He paused, for he had recognized Fanfaro. Bobichel had clutched Rolla at
+the same time, and shaking her roughly, he cried:
+
+"Monster, where is the street-singer?"
+
+"What do I know of a street-singer?" cried Rolla, boldly. "Let me go or
+I shall cry out."
+
+"Cry away," replied Bobichel. "You must know best yourself whether you
+desire the interference of the police or not."
+
+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.
+
+"Where is Louison?" asked Fanfaro, in a voice of thunder.
+
+"No. 16 Rue de Belleville."
+
+"Alone?"
+
+"I do not know."
+
+"Scoundrels, God help you, if all is not right," hissed Fanfaro, "bring
+us quickly to the house named."
+
+"Oh, it is very easy to find," began Rolla, but Bobichel threatened her
+with his fist and cried:
+
+"So much the better for you, forward march!"
+
+Robeckal and the Cannon Queen, held in the grips of Fanfaro and the
+clown, proceeded on the way to Belleville. They stopped in front of No.
+16, and it required the application of force to get them to enter.
+
+Rolla, in advance of the others, went to the top story. The door was
+wide open and the room empty.
+
+"Really, he has taken her along?" she exclaimed in amazement.
+
+"Of whom are you speaking?" asked Fanfaro, trembling with fear.
+
+"Of whom else but the little vicomte."
+
+"His name?"
+
+"Talizac."
+
+"The villain!" muttered Fanfaro to himself.
+
+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.
+
+"You have swindled me," the young man read; "you have helped her to
+escape, confound you!"
+
+"Thank God all is not lost yet," whispered Fanfaro, handing Bobichel the
+paper.
+
+"One moment," said the clown; "I have an idea which I would like to
+carry out."
+
+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.
+
+"March, away with you," he said, roughly, "and do not attempt to free
+him; he can ponder over his sins."
+
+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.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIX
+
+SPLENDOR
+
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"Do not frown so," whispered Madeleine to her son, "here comes Irene."
+
+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.
+
+Irene was dazzlingly beautiful, and her rich dress enhanced her charming
+appearance. There was, however, a melancholy look in her dark eyes, but
+her voice sounded clear and strong as she replied to the vicomte's
+greeting.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+The vicomte's voice aroused him from his dreams.
+
+"Well, Arthur," said Talizac laughing, "have you no congratulation for
+me?"
+
+Arthur looked penetratingly at the vicomte, and in a low voice replied:
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"Fanfaro!" cried Montferrand in amazement.
+
+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:
+
+"Ladies and gentlemen, here is the corpse of a young girl whom the
+Vicomte de Talizac murdered."
+
+The women uttered cries of terror and the men looked threateningly at
+Talizac, who was trembling and trying hard to appear indifferent.
+
+The Marquis of Fougereuse was as white as a spectre. Was this Fanfaro
+going to pursue him forever?
+
+"Who is the bold fellow?" he audaciously said. "Throw him out."
+
+"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.
+
+"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?"
+
+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.
+
+Montferrand hurried toward him and cordially shook him by the hand.
+
+"Is she dead--is she really dead?" he asked.
+
+"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?"
+
+From the group of timid ladies came a tall figure clad in a white silk
+dress, and kneeling next to Louison she softly said:
+
+"Here I am."
+
+"The farce is becoming uproarious," cried the Marquis of Fougereuse,
+nervously laughing.
+
+"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?"
+
+"Yes, it is a lie!" exclaimed Talizac, hoarsely.
+
+"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."
+
+"He lies! He is crazy!" cried the vicomte, in despair.
+
+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.
+
+In the meantime Irene had busied herself with Louison, and now
+triumphantly exclaimed:
+
+"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."
+
+The countess assented with tears in her eyes; she was proud of her
+daughter.
+
+"The poor thing is my sister," said Fanfaro in a low voice to Irene.
+
+Irene bent over Louison and kissed her pale forehead. This was her
+answer to Fanfaro's information.
+
+Talizac had now recovered his senses. He tore open the door and angrily
+cried:
+
+"Is there no one here who will show this impudent fellow out? Come in,
+lackeys and servants; lay hands on him!"
+
+"I would advise no one to touch me," said Fanfaro, coldly.
+
+At this moment a hand was laid on Fanfaro's shoulder, and a deep voice
+said:
+
+"In the name of the king, you are my prisoner!"
+
+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.
+
+"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."
+
+A cry of horror followed these words, and, pale and trembling, the
+guests crowded about the officer, who continued after a short pause:
+
+"Asked about his accomplice, the would-be murderer declared that he was
+an agent for a secret society whose chief the prisoner Fanfaro is."
+
+"Oh, what a monstrous lie!" exclaimed Fanfaro, beside himself with rage,
+while Irene de Salves rose upright and with flaming eyes said:
+
+"He a murderer? Impossible!"
+
+"Prudence," whispered Arthur to the young woman, "what I can do for him
+I will."
+
+"Save my sister, Irene," said Fanfaro softly, and 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."
+
+With head erect Fanfaro strode toward the door and disappeared in
+company with the soldiers. Montferrand approached Talizac and hissed in
+his ear:
+
+"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."
+
+"You shall pay for this," said the vicomte, "I will kill you."
+
+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.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XX
+
+IN LEIGOUTTE
+
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+The new owner did not live in the house himself. He 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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+Pierre could not sit still any more. He noiselessly arose 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:
+
+"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!"
+
+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?
+
+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:
+
+"Do not get angry, sir! We shall not trouble you long."
+
+"Make yourselves at home," replied Pierre, cordially; "but tell me," he
+continued, "who is this woman?"
+
+Caillette, for she was the young woman, put her finger to her forehead,
+and looked significantly at the old woman.
+
+"She is crazy," she whispered.
+
+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.
+
+"Tell me," he repeated softly, "who is the woman?"
+
+"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."
+
+"But her name--what is she called?"
+
+"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."
+
+"Louison? Who is that?"
+
+"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."
+
+Pierre was silent for a moment, and then asked:
+
+"Who is this Fanfaro whom you just spoke about?"
+
+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.
+
+"Fanfaro is a foundling," she finally said; "of course he is a man now,
+and just as energetic and brave as any one."
+
+"Fanfaro, Fanfaro," repeated the old man, pensively; "where have I heard
+the name before?"
+
+The maniac now raised her eyes, and, seeing Pierre, she politely said:
+
+"Excuse the plain service, sir; it is very little, but comes from our
+hearts."
+
+Pierre Labarre uttered a cry of astonishment.
+
+"Louise--Louise Fougeres!" he cried, beside himself.
+
+The invalid looked sharply at Pierre, and tremblingly said:
+
+"Who called me? Who pronounced my name just now?"
+
+"I, Louise," replied Pierre. "Louise Fougeres, do you not recollect
+your husband, Jules, and your children, Jacques and Louison?"
+
+"Of course I remember them. Ah, how glad I would be if I could see them
+again! Where can Jules be? and Jacques--Jacques--"
+
+The maniac was silent, and ran her crippled fingers through her gray
+hair, as if she were trying to recollect something.
+
+"Yes, I know," she murmured pensively, "Louison is here, she sleeps in a
+neat white bed, but she is away now--and--and--"
+
+Expectantly Pierre gazed at the poor woman, who was palpably confounding
+imagination with reality, and after a pause she continued:
+
+"Oh, the door opens now, and Jacques enters! Welcome, my dear child. How
+handsome you have become. Thank God, I have you again!"
+
+"Has she really found Jacques again?" asked Labarre, tremblingly, and
+turning to Caillette. "Is he living?"
+
+"Yes, he is the same person as Fanfaro."
+
+"God be praised. And Louison?"
+
+"Louison has been abducted and--"
+
+"Abducted? By whom?"
+
+"By the Vicomte of Talizac."
+
+"By Talizac? O my God!" stammered Labarre, in horror.
+
+Louise, too, had heard the name, and raising herself with difficulty,
+she whispered:
+
+"Talizac? He must know it! Jacques--the box, O God! where is the box?"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+How did these two women get to Leigoutte?
+
+When Fanfaro went to search for Louison, his mother 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.
+
+When she awoke it was daylight. She glanced at the maniac's bed.
+Merciful Heaven, it was empty!
+
+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.
+
+"But she cannot walk at all, how could she get out?" groaned Caillette.
+"Suppose Fanfaro came now and found that his mother was gone?"
+
+"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."
+
+Caillette wrung her hands and then hurried to the station house and
+announced the disappearance of the "Burned Woman."
+
+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.
+
+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 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.
+
+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.
+
+"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:
+
+"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."
+
+"What did she say?" asked Caillette, while the "Burned Woman" clung to
+her.
+
+"Oh, she asked for bread, and then inquired the way to the Vosges."
+
+"Yes, to the Vosges," said the maniac, hastily.
+
+"But, mother, what should we do in the Vosges?" asked Caillette, in
+surprise.
+
+"To Leigoutte--Leigoutte," repeated the maniac, urgently.
+
+"Leigoutte--that is Fanfaro's home!" exclaimed the young girl, hastily.
+
+"Not Fanfaro--Jacques," corrected the old woman.
+
+"But what should we do in Leigoutte, mother?"
+
+"The box--Jacques--Talizac--the papers," the woman replied.
+
+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.
+
+"I must speak to old Laison," said the "Burned Woman," suddenly; "he
+must help me."
+
+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.
+
+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 dug out of the earth; for close to the hollow tree was a
+deep hole, and the box was covered with dirt and earth.
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXI
+
+EXCITED
+
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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:
+
+"Who saved me?"
+
+"Don't you know?" asked the countess, blushing. "It was Fanfaro."
+
+"Fanfaro? Who is that?"
+
+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?
+
+"Won't you tell me who Fanfaro is?" asked Louison, urgently.
+
+"Don't you really know your own brother?" asked Irene in surprise.
+
+"My brother?"
+
+Louison laid her hand on her head and became thoughtful.
+
+"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."
+
+"Jacques and Fanfaro are identical," replied Irene, softly.
+
+She had been told this by her cousin Arthur, who took a great interest
+in the brother and sister.
+
+"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--"
+
+"Perfectly right; he is Fanfaro's foster-father, and Fanfaro is your
+brother."
+
+"Who told you so?"
+
+"He, himself; he begged me to care for his sister."
+
+"But why does he not come? I long to see him."
+
+Irene, too, longed to see Fanfaro.
+
+"Let me speak a little about him," said Louison, vivaciously; "perhaps
+Fanfaro is identical with Jacques; he must be twenty years of age."
+
+"That may be so."
+
+"And then he must be very handsome. Jacques was a very pretty boy."
+
+"That is correct, too," replied Irene, blushing.
+
+"Has he black eyes and dark, curly hair?"
+
+"I think so," stammered Irene, who knew all these details, yet did not
+wish to confess it.
+
+"You think so," repeated Louison; "you haven't looked carefully at him?"
+
+"I--I--" stammered the countess, in confusion; "what do you look at me
+for?"
+
+A smile flitted across Louison's lips, but she kept silent, and Irene
+thanked God, as Madame Ursula now came in and softly said:
+
+"Irene, a word."
+
+"What is the matter?" asked the countess, hastily.
+
+"There is a man outside who would like to speak to you."
+
+"His name?"
+
+"Bobichel--"
+
+"Bobichel? Ah! bring him in the next room directly!"
+
+Madame Ursula nodded and disappeared, while Irene turned to Louison and
+said in explanation:
+
+"Excuse me a moment; I will not leave you long alone."
+
+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:
+
+"Mademoiselle, excuse me for disturbing you, but--"
+
+"You come from him--from Fanfaro?" said Irene, blushing.
+
+"Unfortunately no," replied Bobichel, sorrowfully; "I was not allowed to
+see him."
+
+"Who sent you here?"
+
+"His foster-father--Girdel."
+
+"Why does he not come personally?"
+
+"I do not know. I have something to give you."
+
+"What is it?"
+
+"Here it is," said Bobichel, pulling a small package out of his pocket
+and handing it to Irene.
+
+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."
+
+Without accounting for her feelings, Irene feverishly broke the last
+letter. Did she suspect from whom it came?
+
+
+     "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."
+
+
+The letter bore no signature. Irene read again and again the words of
+her beloved, and hot tears fell on the paper.
+
+Bobichel, deeply affected, observed the young girl, and to console her
+he said:
+
+"Who knows, he might not be found guilty anyhow?"
+
+"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.
+
+"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."
+
+"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."
+
+"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:
+
+"Mademoiselle, in your eagerness to read one of the letters you forgot
+to open the other."
+
+"That's so!" exclaimed Irene blushing, and unfolding Girdel's letter she
+read the following words, written in an original orthographical style:
+
+
+     "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 until after the trial, which will take
+     place in two days. I trust in you.
+                                                           GIRDEL."
+
+
+"What answer shall I bring master!" asked the clown after Irene had read
+the letter.
+
+"That I will do as he says," replied Irene. "Where is the thing Girdel
+intrusted to you?"
+
+"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.
+
+"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."
+
+He disappeared, and the two young girls looked after him filled with new
+hope.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+The marquis and Madeleine had just been having a quarrel, and the
+marquis, pale and exhausted, lay back 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.
+
+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."
+
+Velletri bowed slightly to the marquis, and then said in a cold voice:
+
+"Marquis, I begged for an interview with you which I desire principally
+for your own good. Are we undisturbed here?"
+
+"Entirely so," replied the marquis, coldly.
+
+The Italian sat down in a chair which the marquis had shoved toward him,
+and began in a business tone:
+
+"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--"
+
+"But, count," interrupted the marquis vivaciously, "you were the chum of
+my son, and you even encouraged his dissipations."
+
+Velletri laughed maliciously.
+
+"The Vicomte of Talizac," he said, weighing each 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."
+
+"You, count--but I really do not understand," stammered the marquis.
+
+"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--"
+
+"You are no doubt speaking of the Society of Jesus?" interrupted the
+marquis.
+
+Velletri bowed and continued:
+
+"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--"
+
+The marquis made a gesture of astonishment, and Velletri went on:
+
+"The society is even ready to give you the means to put your shattered
+fortune on a firm basis again."
+
+"And the conditions?" stammered Fougereuse hoarsely.
+
+"I will tell them to you directly; they are not very difficult to
+fulfil."
+
+"And should I refuse them?"
+
+"Do you really intend to refuse them?" asked the Jesuit, softly.
+
+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.
+
+"What does the society ask of me?" he said, after a pause.
+
+"Two things--an important service and a guarantee."
+
+"And what does it offer?"
+
+"The position of his majesty the king's prime minister."
+
+The marquis sprang up as if electrified.
+
+"I have misunderstood you," he said.
+
+"Not at all; it is a question of the premiership."
+
+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.
+
+"You spoke of an important service and a guarantee," he said, breathing
+heavily; "please explain yourself more clearly."
+
+"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."
+
+Fougereuse closed his eyes--this outlook was dazzling.
+
+Fernando de Velletri continued with:
+
+"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. 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?"
+
+Fougereuse had arisen. Excited, flushed with enthusiasm, he looked at
+Velletri.
+
+"Yes, I am the man!" he firmly exclaimed, "I will easily overcome every
+obstacle, conquer every opposition--"
+
+"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--"
+
+"I am yours body and soul," interrupted the marquis impatiently. "And
+to-day--"
+
+"One moment," said the Jesuit, placing his hand lightly on the marquis's
+shoulder; "I also spoke about a guarantee."
+
+"Really," cried Fougereuse sincerely, "I forgot all about that, but I
+should think my word of honor would be sufficient."
+
+Velletri did not reply to his last observation, but coolly said:
+
+"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."
+
+The marquis's face expressed naive astonishment.
+
+"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?"
+
+"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--"
+
+"Have no fear," interrupted Velletri dryly; "the sum in question is not
+so immense that you need be frightened about it."
+
+Fougereuse breathed more freely.
+
+"To found the houses named only a very modest sum is necessary, not more
+than a million!"
+
+"A million!" stammered the marquis, "a million!"
+
+"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."
+
+"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."
+
+"Then you refuse?" asked Velletri.
+
+"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!"
+
+"Marquis, the house of Fougereuse possesses a fortune which is fabulous
+in comparison to the demands of the society."
+
+"If it were only so," groaned Fougereuse, "but unfortunately you are
+mistaken; I am ruined, totally ruined!"
+
+"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.
+
+"Count, I was robbed of my legacy--dastardly robbed," whined Fougereuse.
+
+The Italian rose up angrily.
+
+"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--"
+
+"War?" repeated Fougereuse, confused. "I--do not understand you!"
+
+"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--"
+
+"I--should I ever become an enemy of the fathers? Oh, you do not
+believe that yourself!"
+
+"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!"
+
+Fougereuse trembled with fear and his teeth chattered as he stammeringly
+said:
+
+"I--do not--understand--you."
+
+"Then listen. The papers are drafts whose signatures have been forged by
+the Vicomte de Talizac, and which are in our hands."
+
+"Drafts? Forged drafts? Impossible--my son is not a criminal!" cried the
+marquis, desperately.
+
+"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."
+
+"One moment, count. Are your conditions unchangeable?"
+
+"Perfectly so. Inside of the next five days the preliminary steps must
+be taken in the Chamber of Peers--"
+
+"I will do them to-morrow," cried the marquis, hastily.
+
+"But only in case you are able to give the necessary guarantee. Marquis,
+adieu!"
+
+The Italian went away, and Fougereuse, entirely broken down, remained
+behind.
+
+He was still sitting thinking deeply, when Simon, who had remained
+behind the curtain and overheard the interview, softly stepped forth,
+and said:
+
+"Courage, marquis; there is no reason for despair. Write to the pious
+fathers that you will satisfy their demands within the required five
+days."
+
+"But I do not understand--"
+
+"And yet it is very clear. Fanfaro is in prison--"
+
+"Even so--he will not be condemned to death."
+
+"If the judges do not kill him, there are other means."
+
+"Other means?"
+
+"Yes, my lord; the legacy of the Fougereuse will fall into your hands,
+and then the cabinet position is sure."
+
+"Simon, are you mad?"
+
+"No, my lord. I will kill Fanfaro!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXII
+
+THE TRIAL
+
+
+Political trials are in all ages similar; and then, as now, the verdict
+is decided upon long before the proceedings have begun.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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 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.
+
+"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--
+
+Now came Fanfaro's turn.
+
+"You are a member of a secret society which bears the proud title of
+'Heroes of Justice'?" asked the presiding judge.
+
+"I am a Frenchman," replied Fanfaro, "and as such I joined with the men
+who desire to free their country."
+
+"And to do this you attempted assassination?" asked the judge, sharply.
+
+"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."
+
+"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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+Fifteen minutes later the verdict was given. Robeckal was condemned to
+death by strangulation, and Fanfaro to the galleys for life.
+
+But at the moment the sentence was pronounced a terrible thing occurred.
+
+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!
+
+Loud cries broke forth.
+
+"He has committed suicide," some cried.
+
+"He has been poisoned," came from others, and all rushed toward the
+unconscious man.
+
+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.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIII
+
+THE CRISIS
+
+
+"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.
+
+"Madeleine!" he exclaimed, "all our troubles are at an end now; he who
+stood between us and fortune is dead."
+
+"Of whom are you speaking?"
+
+"Of whom else but that common regicide."
+
+"What, of that Fanfaro who lately had the audacity to come into our
+parlor and create that terrible scene?"
+
+"Of him--he is dead."
+
+"Heaven be praised. We shall now receive the legacy."
+
+"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."
+
+"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."
+
+The marquis paid no attention to Madeleine's last words. He was
+thinking about Simon and the great service the latter had done for him.
+
+"Where can Simon be?" he uneasily remarked, "I have not seen him in two
+days."
+
+"Bah! he will turn up, let us rather speak about our son. I--"
+
+A knock was heard at the door.
+
+"Come in," said the marquis expectantly; but instead of Simon, as he
+thought, a servant entered.
+
+"My lord," he stammered, "the vicomte--"
+
+"Ah, he is outside!" cried the marquise eagerly; "tell the vicomte we
+are awaiting him."
+
+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:
+
+"Madame--I--"
+
+"What do you mean?" cried the marquise, angrily. "You announce the
+vicomte and lock the door instead of opening it?"
+
+"My lord," said the servant, turning to the marquis.
+
+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:
+
+"Madeleine, let Baptiste speak."
+
+"The--vicomte--is dead," stammered Baptiste.
+
+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.
+
+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 they had been carrying. The burden was a bier, covered with a
+cloth, under which could be seen the outlines of a human form.
+
+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.
+
+"Gaston, what has happened?" cried the marquis in despair, as he
+imploringly held his hand toward the young man.
+
+"He is dead," replied Gaston, in a hollow voice.
+
+"Who is dead? For Heaven's sake speak!" moaned Madeleine.
+
+"Your son, the Vicomte de Talizac, fell in a duel," said Gaston,
+earnestly.
+
+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:
+
+"You lie--my son had no duel!"
+
+"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!"
+
+The marquis still remained unconvinced, and carefully gliding toward the
+bier, he shoved the cloth aside with a trembling hand.
+
+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.
+
+The marquis uttered a hoarse cry and his hand nervously grasped the
+cloth. His eyes shone feverishly and he stammered forth disconnected
+sentences.
+
+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.
+
+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:
+
+"Do not leave this room. I must know how he died."
+
+A wink from Gaston sent the servants away, and as soon as he was alone
+with the parents he began his story.
+
+"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."
+
+Pale, with eyes wide open, the marquis and Madeleine listened to
+Gaston's story. The marquise clinched her fist and angrily exclaimed:
+
+"My son has been murdered, and I will avenge him!"
+
+The marquis remained silent, but his silence made a deeper impression on
+the young man than Madeleine's anger.
+
+"Did my son leave any letter?" asked the marquise, suddenly.
+
+"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."
+
+The young man thereupon handed the marquise the letter. Madeleine tore
+the envelope with a trembling hand. There were only a few lines:
+
+
+     "You have brought me up badly. You are the cause of my death. I
+     hate you!"
+
+
+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.
+
+"Read," she cried, "read these words, which our only child sends us from
+his grave. He hates us--ha, ha, ha!--hates--hates!"
+
+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.
+
+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 expression of dumb terror appeared on his
+features, while he tremblingly murmured: "Pierre Labarre!"
+
+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.
+
+Crushed and annihilated, Pierre Labarre hurried to the Fougereuse
+mansion, and the marquis trembled at sight of him, as if he were a
+spectre.
+
+"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!"
+
+"But I have with you, marquis," replied Pierre calmly. "I have something
+to tell you, and you will listen to me!"
+
+"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."
+
+"No," replied Pierre, sorrowfully; "the real Vicomte de Talizac is dead,
+and from to-day on you are for me the Marquis of Fougereuse."
+
+"I do not understand you," said the marquis, confused. "What has the
+death of my son got to do with my title?"
+
+"I do not speak of the son who lies here a corpse, but of the other--"
+
+"Which other?" asked the nobleman, more and more surprised.
+
+"You will soon understand me--it is about Fanfaro--"
+
+"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!"
+
+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.
+
+"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!"
+
+"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!"
+
+"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!"
+
+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.
+
+"Unhappy father," he murmured, in a broken voice; "would to God
+somebody took the duty off my hands of telling you what you have done."
+
+"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."
+
+"For Heaven's sake be silent: this Fanfaro was not your brother's son!"
+
+"So much the worse!"
+
+"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?"
+
+"Sachemont?" repeated Fougereuse, pensively.
+
+"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!"
+
+Fougereuse looked at the old servant in amazement. Where had Pierre
+Labarre found all this out?
+
+"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 victim of the Vicomte de Talizac gave birth
+to a son, about the commencement of the year 1805--"
+
+"Go on! What else?" asked Fougereuse, mockingly, as Pierre paused.
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+"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."
+
+"It is a lie," hissed Fougereuse, "this Fanfaro was my brother's son;
+tell your fables to others."
+
+Instead of answering, Pierre Labarre searched in his breast-pocket and
+handed the marquis a package of papers. With trembling hands Fougereuse
+opened the ones on top and tried to read, but a veil was before his
+eyes and he tremblingly said:
+
+"Read them, Pierre, I cannot see anything."
+
+Pierre read the following aloud:
+
+
+     "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.
+
+                                                "JULES FOUGERES."
+
+
+"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!"
+
+"Would to God I could say no," replied Pierre, shuddering, "but I
+cannot! Fanfaro was your son--his blood lies on your head!"
+
+"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."
+
+"His name?" asked Pierre.
+
+"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."
+
+Pierre looked contemptuously at the coward who did not hesitate to throw
+the responsibility of the terrible deed on his servant.
+
+"I am going now," he said, coldly; "I have nothing more to do here."
+
+"No, remain. Do not leave me alone with the dead--I am frightened!"
+whined the marquis.
+
+"I must go. I want to look after your other dead son," replied Pierre.
+
+"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.
+
+Pierre thought for a while, and then said earnestly:
+
+"Come then--you are right."
+
+"Thanks, a thousand thanks! But tell me, Pierre, what will become of the
+fortune you have in safe keeping. It exists yet, I hope?"
+
+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.
+
+"Well," exclaimed Fougereuse impatiently, "tell me, where are the
+millions of my father?"
+
+"In a safe place," replied Pierre dryly.
+
+"God be praised! I could draw a million then this evening?"
+
+"My God, marquis! do you need a million to confess your sins?"
+
+"Later! Later! Now answer me, when can I get the million?"
+
+"To-morrow; the documents and bonds are deposited with a lawyer here."
+
+"So much the better."
+
+The marquis hurried to his writing-table, wrote a few lines and rang.
+
+"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."
+
+While the servant was hurrying away, the marquis hastily put on a cloak,
+and left the house with Labarre.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIV
+
+THE AUTOPSY
+
+
+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.
+
+"Doctor," said one of them, "you guarantee a success?"
+
+"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."
+
+"But the long time," said the other anxiously. "You know we can operate
+only at night, and forty hours are sometimes an eternity."
+
+"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."
+
+The other man shook the physician's hand heartily.
+
+"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."
+
+"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."
+
+The doctor went, while the other man struck his face with his hands and
+softly murmured:
+
+"God grant that he be right. I would rather die a thousand deaths than
+lose the dear boy in this way."
+
+Hot tears ran over the man's brown cheeks, and his broad breast rose and
+fell, torn by convulsive sobs.
+
+"Shame yourself, Firejaws!" he murmured, "if any one saw you now! Let us
+hope everything will be all right, and then--"
+
+A loud knock at the door interrupted Girdel's self-conversation, and
+upon a hasty "Come in," Bobichel entered the room.
+
+"Well, Bobi, how goes it?" asked the athlete.
+
+"She is downstairs," said the clown, with a significant gesture.
+
+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.
+
+In the meantime Girdel had met Irene de Salves in the corridor of the
+house.
+
+The young lady wore a black dress, and when she saw the athlete she ran
+to meet him and sobbingly cried:
+
+"He's not dead, is he?"
+
+"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."
+
+"But where is he?" asked Irene anxiously.
+
+"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."
+
+"Ah, if I could only believe it--"
+
+"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."
+
+"A thousand thanks for your confidence, but tell me everything that has
+happened--I can hardly understand the whole thing."
+
+"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."
+
+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:
+
+"Follow me, countess; we will soon be there."
+
+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.
+
+"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:
+
+"Get up, scoundrel, let us look at you!"
+
+Low moans answered the gruff command, and Irene uttered a cry of
+terror, for in the cell a human form moved.
+
+"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."
+
+"But I do not understand--" stammered Irene.
+
+"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."
+
+"Mercy," whispered Simon, for he was really the prisoner, "let me free."
+
+"Really? Perhaps later on, but now you must obey. Quick, tell us what
+brought you here."
+
+"I am hungry," growled Simon.
+
+"Really? Well, if you answer my questions probably you shall have food
+and drink. Why did you want to poison Fanfaro?"
+
+"I do not know," stammered the steward.
+
+"How bad your memory is. What interest did your master, the Marquis of
+Fougereuse, have in Fanfaro's death?"
+
+Simon was silent. Girdel nudged him gently in the ribs with the iron
+bar, and turning to Irene, said:
+
+"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! 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--"
+
+"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.
+
+"Let us leave him alone, mademoiselle," said Girdel; "solitude will do
+him good."
+
+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.
+
+When Girdel and Irene reached the room, the latter sank, sobbing, upon a
+chair, and "the brave athlete" tried his best to console her.
+
+"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."
+
+At this moment Bobichel breathlessly rushed into the room, and Irene
+uttered a cry of terror when she saw his pale face.
+
+"What has happened?" she cried, filled with gloomy forebodings.
+
+"O God--he is lost!" stammered the clown.
+
+"Who is lost?"
+
+"Fanfaro."
+
+"Speak clearly," cried Girdel, beside himself.
+
+"They have brought--Fanfaro--to the--Hotel Dieu," said Bobichel,
+sobbing.
+
+"Well, that isn't such a misfortune," said the athlete, breathing more
+freely. "You need not have frightened us."
+
+"But the worst is to come--they want to hold an autopsy over him to find
+out the cause of death."
+
+"Merciful God! that must not be," cried Irene, wringing her hands. "We
+must run to the hospital and tell all."
+
+"Who is the physician that is going to undertake the autopsy?" asked
+Girdel.
+
+"Doctor Albaret, as I was informed."
+
+"Then rely on me, countess," cried the athlete, rushing away; "either I
+rescue Fanfaro or else I die with him."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXV
+
+FROM SCYLLA TO CHARYBDIS
+
+
+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.
+
+"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?
+
+In the meantime the hall had become crowded, and when Dr. Albaret
+appeared a murmur of expectation ran through the ranks of the students
+and physicians.
+
+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--"
+
+"Dr. Albaret," cried a stentorian voice at this moment--"where is Dr.
+Albaret?"
+
+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.
+
+"A message from his majesty the king," said the man breathlessly.
+
+"A message from his majesty?" repeated the physician eagerly, as he
+grasped the note the messenger gave him.
+
+Hurriedly running over the few lines, Albaret nodded, and quickly
+putting his coat on again, he said, in a tone of importance:
+
+"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."
+
+"But the autopsy?" remarked an elderly colleague.
+
+"It isn't worth the trouble to postpone it," replied 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."
+
+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.
+
+"Bobi, just in time," he breathlessly cried, "five minutes more and
+Fanfaro would have been done for."
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+The nobleman leaned on Pierre Labarre's arm, and returning the
+superintendent's greeting, he tried to speak, but his voice was broken
+by sobs, and so he handed the official a folded paper and looked
+inquiringly at him.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"I should like--to see--the deceased," stammered the broken-down father.
+
+The official bowed, and accompanied his guide up to the operating room
+where Fanfaro's body still lay.
+
+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.
+
+"Marquis, shall I call the carriers?" asked Pierre, gently.
+
+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:
+
+"There is only one thing left for me--I must bury my sons and then die
+myself."
+
+"But Madame la Marquise," said Pierre, anxiously.
+
+"The marquise will have the same wish as I have to suffer for our sins,"
+said the marquis, frowning; "and--"
+
+At this moment Baptiste rushed into the room, and with a frightened look
+exclaimed:
+
+"Madame la Marquise is nowhere to be seen, and her maid fears she has
+done herself an injury--she was talking so strangely."
+
+Pierre and the marquis exchanged a silent look, and then the nobleman
+gently said:
+
+"She did right. Of what further use was she in the world? Oh, I envy
+her!"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+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.
+
+"I really forgot all about it," cried the superintendent to whom Girdel
+had gone for information. "The body has been taken away long ago."
+
+"Taken away?" repeated the athlete, astonished.
+
+"Yes; the Marquis of Fougereuse claimed him and took him along. I
+believe he intends to bury him in his family vault."
+
+"Almighty God! Is that true?" asked Girdel, horror-stricken.
+
+"Yes, certainly; he brought carriers along, and that settled the
+matter."
+
+"Where is the family vault of the Fougereuse?" asked Girdel.
+
+"Oh, far from Paris; somewhere in Alsace, if I remember aright."
+
+"God have mercy on me!" muttered Girdel to himself.
+
+The official looked at him with amazement. What was the matter with the
+man?
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVI
+
+MISTAKEN
+
+
+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 _pro
+forma_, 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.
+
+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.
+
+Suppose they no longer remembered the compact?
+
+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 detective, entered his
+cell. Robeckal knew him, and breathed more freely. Vidocq, no doubt,
+came to release him.
+
+"Thank God you have come, Monsieur Vidocq," cried Robeckal to the
+official; "the time was becoming rather long for me."
+
+"I am sorry that I have kept you waiting," replied Vidocq, quietly; "but
+there were certain formalities to be settled, and I--"
+
+"Ah! no doubt in regard to the money?" said Robeckal, laughing. "Have
+you brought the yellow birds along?"
+
+"Slowly, slowly--first let me inform you that the death sentence has
+been torn up."
+
+"Really? I did not expect anything else."
+
+"You do not say so," observed the official, ironically. "Then you
+already know your fate?"
+
+"Yes, I am going to England and from there to America."
+
+"I don't know anything about that; my information is that you will not
+leave France."
+
+Robeckal's face became a shade paler, still he did not lose courage.
+
+"Where am I to be sent?" he hastily asked.
+
+"For the present to the south of France."
+
+"To--the--south--of--France," repeated Robeckal.
+
+"To Toulon."
+
+"To Toulon?" cried the wretch, in terror. "That is impossible!"
+
+"And why should it be impossible?" asked Vidocq, smiling maliciously.
+
+"Because--because," stammered Robeckal, faintly, "the sentence--"
+
+"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."
+
+"But--the--promise?" whined the criminal. "But, come, now, you are only
+joking?"
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVII
+
+FREEDOM
+
+
+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.
+
+A slight knock was now heard at the door of the cottage.
+
+"Who is there?" asked the young man, anxiously.
+
+"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.
+
+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:
+
+"We have been sent here to find Fanfaro."
+
+"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.
+
+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:
+
+"Arthur, have you sent me this invitation?"
+
+With these words, she handed Arthur de Montferrand, for he was the young
+man, the following note:
+
+
+     "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."
+
+
+"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."
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+"Jacques--where is Jacques?" she incessantly repeated, and the fact that
+Louison was really her daughter seemed to have entirely escaped her.
+
+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.
+
+A skyrocket now shot up in the dark sky; it exploded aloft with a loud
+noise, and a golden rain lighted up the horizon for a while.
+
+"That was undoubtedly a good sign," thought Arthur, hastily opening the
+cottage door.
+
+Loud oar-sounds were now heard, and a light boat struck for the shore
+with the rapidity of an arrow.
+
+The keel now struck the sand and a slim form sprang quickly out of the
+bark and hurried toward the cottage.
+
+"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:
+
+"Jacques--where is Jacques? I do not see him!"
+
+"Here I am, my poor dear mother," sobbed Fanfaro, sinking on his knees
+in front of the old lady.
+
+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.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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 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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+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.
+
+"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!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVII
+
+BENEDETTO'S REVENGE
+
+
+     _A Letter of the Count of Monte-Cristo to his son, Vicomte Spero_
+
+     "MY DEARLY BELOVED SON--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.
+
+     "In regard to myself this opportunity must come soon, for I have
+     passed my sixtieth year, and my strength is failing.
+
+     "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 Abbe Faria to me if I could not rescue her? Like avenging
+     spirits, the shades of all those upon whom I had taken revenge
+     rose 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!
+
+     "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!'
+
+     "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.
+
+     "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 _coup d'etat_ of December, and his mother died of a
+     broken heart.
+
+     "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.
+
+     "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.
+
+     "Will you be able to understand me and my motives? Ah, Spero, I
+     cannot help domineering over those about me, and that is why I am
+     going.
+
+     "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.
+
+     "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.
+
+     "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.
+
+     "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.
+
+     "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.
+
+     "My son! give generously, believe in humanity, and do not distrust
+     any one; real experience is gained only by mistakes.
+
+     "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,
+                                                     YOUR FATHER."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVIII
+
+SPERO
+
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+The vicomte sat at his writing-desk and was reading 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.
+
+"When did the count leave the house?" asked Spero, whose voice reminded
+one of his father's.
+
+"This evening, vicomte," replied Coucou, with military briefness.
+
+"Why was I not called?"
+
+"The count forbade it. He ordered me to place the letter which you found
+on the writing-table and--"
+
+"Did the count go alone?"
+
+"No, Ali accompanied him."
+
+"In what direction did he go?"
+
+"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."
+
+"Without asking any questions?"
+
+"Oh, vicomte, no one asks the Count of Monte-Cristo for a reason," cried
+Coucou, vivaciously. "I am not a coward, but--"
+
+"I know you possess courage," replied the young man.
+
+"_Sapristi_--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."
+
+"What makes you think that your language displeases me?" asked Spero,
+laughing.
+
+"Because--excuse me, vicomte, but sometimes you look so stern--"
+
+"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."
+
+"Ah, it is easy to speak to the count," said Coucou, unthinkingly; "he
+has such a cheering smile--"
+
+A frown passed over Spero's face, and he gently said:
+
+"My father is good--he is much better than I am--I knew it long ago."
+
+"Vicomte, I did not say that," cried the Zouave, embarrassed.
+
+"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."
+
+"Yes, sir," replied Coucou, "and now I have a special favor to ask you,
+vicomte."
+
+"Speak, it is already granted."
+
+"Vicomte, the count never calls me Auguste, which is my baptismal name,
+but Coucou. If you would call me Coucou, I--"
+
+"With pleasure. Well, then, Coucou, you know nothing further?"
+
+"Nothing."
+
+"It is good. You can go."
+
+The Zouave turned toward the door. When he had nearly reached it, Spero
+cried:
+
+"Coucou, stay a moment."
+
+"Just as you say, vicomte."
+
+"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 accompanied my father and me to Africa, and that you placed
+your own life in danger to rescue mine."
+
+"Ah, vicomte," stammered the Zouave, deeply moved, "that was only my
+duty."
+
+"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?"
+
+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.
+
+"What is the matter with you?" asked Spero, in amazement.
+
+"Oh, nothing, but--"
+
+"Well, but--"
+
+"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?"
+
+Spero looked wonderingly at his hands, and then dreamily said:
+
+"I am stronger than I thought."
+
+"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?"
+
+"Downstairs in the dining-room."
+
+"Are you going to breakfast alone?"
+
+"That depends. Perhaps one of my friends may drop in, though I haven't
+invited any one."
+
+"Please ring the bell in case you want to be served," said Coucou, as
+he left the room.
+
+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.
+
+"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!"
+
+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.
+
+Spero was never heard to praise or admire this or that, before he had
+first inquired whether such an 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 Scaevola, and quailed before the prick of a needle.
+
+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:
+
+"Bring the gentleman to the dining-room, Coucou, and put two covers on;
+we shall dine together."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIX
+
+FORWARD, MARCH
+
+
+When Spero entered the dining-room, a handsome young man about
+twenty-five years of age hurried toward him with outstretched arms.
+
+"How are you, my dear Spero?" he vivaciously cried.
+
+"Oh, thank you, very well. Do you know, Gontram, that you couldn't have
+come at a more appropriate hour?"
+
+"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?"
+
+"No; what makes you think so?" replied Spero, confused.
+
+"Your appearance is different from usual. Your eyes sparkle, and you are
+feverishly excited. Perhaps you have some secret to intrust to me?"
+
+In the meantime the young men had seated themselves at table, and while
+they were eating they indulged in general conversation.
+
+"Do you know that my father has left Paris suddenly?" asked Spero in the
+course of the conversation.
+
+"No. Where has the count gone to?"
+
+"I do not know," said the vicomte.
+
+Gontram Sabran had been acquainted with Spero for two years.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"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."
+
+Spero had become curious, and upon his acquiescence Gontram told him the
+following.
+
+"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 had fainted, and I brought a very sick girl
+back to Paris.
+
+"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.
+
+"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:
+
+"'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.'
+
+"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:
+
+"'Bring her up and beg her to play at my bedside.'
+
+"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.
+
+"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."
+
+"Monsieur Sabran," said Spero when the painter had finished, "your
+little romance is interesting, and I am now ready to pay fifty thousand
+francs for the picture."
+
+Gontram looked pityingly at the vicomte and dryly replied:
+
+"I stick to my refusal."
+
+Spero went away disappointed. Two days later he hurried to the painter's
+studio and hesitatingly said:
+
+"Monsieur Sabran, I treated you the other day in a mean way. Please
+excuse me."
+
+Gontram was surprised. Taking the vicomte's hand, he cordially said:
+
+"I am glad I was mistaken in you; if features such as yours are
+deceitful, then it is bad for humanity."
+
+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.
+
+"Where did your father go to?" he asked.
+
+"I do not know," replied Spero, uneasily.
+
+"What? Your father did not inform you?" asked Gontram.
+
+"No," replied Spero; "he departed this evening and left a letter for me
+behind him."
+
+"Ah, really, every one does as he pleases," said Gontram. "Do you know I
+came here to-day to ask a favor of you?"
+
+"You couldn't do me a greater pleasure," replied Spero, cheerfully;
+"everything I possess is at your disposal."
+
+"I thought so; the next time you will offer me your millions," cried
+Gontram, laughing.
+
+"I hope you will ask me for something besides wretched money," said
+Spero, warmly. "I could gladly fight for you, or do some other important
+service for you."
+
+"And suppose I was to keep you at your word?" asked Gontram, seriously;
+"suppose I came here only to demand a sacrifice of you?"
+
+"Oh, speak!" cried the vicomte, eagerly.
+
+"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."
+
+"I--would--do it--to please you," replied Spero, hesitatingly.
+
+"I thought so," cried the painter, laughing; "yet I made you the
+proposition, because I thought you were boring yourself to death here."
+
+"But--"
+
+"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."
+
+Spero gazed at the painter in astonishment.
+
+"Why have you not told me all that long ago?" he slowly asked.
+
+"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. 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."
+
+Spero bit his lip.
+
+"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.
+
+"Bravo, you have already learned something. First fill your wine-glass,
+otherwise I shall drink all your fine sherry alone."
+
+The habit of drinking moderately Spero had also learned from his father.
+
+Upon the remark of the painter, he filled his glass and impatiently
+said:
+
+"Well?"
+
+"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--"
+
+"In your studio?" said Spero in surprise.
+
+"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 Macaenas, 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 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?"
+
+"Is that all?" said Spero, cordially. "You give me joy, and I hope you
+will allow me to attend to it."
+
+"That depends. What do you intend to do?"
+
+"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--"
+
+"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."
+
+"I generally work at night," replied Spero, hesitating.
+
+"No rule without an exception," declared the painter; "I have invited
+ladies too, and I hope you will enjoy yourself."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXX
+
+JANE ZILD
+
+
+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 _soirees_, 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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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:
+
+"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."
+
+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
+_salon_, and as Gontram had painted the picture, no one wondered any
+longer at seeing the handsome Carmen and her father in the studio.
+
+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 dazzling white forehead, and the small, finely
+formed mouth understood how to talk.
+
+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?
+
+"I am thankful to you, mademoiselle, for having come here," said
+Gontram, sparkling with joy, as he walked by the young girl's side.
+
+"How could I have refused your cordial invitation?" replied Carmen,
+laughing; "even princesses have visited the studios of their court
+painters."
+
+"The Duchess of Ferrara, for instance," said a young sculptor who had
+overheard the remark.
+
+Gontram frowned, and whispered softly to the young artist:
+
+"You ought to be ashamed of yourself, Raoul."
+
+Carmen, however, laughed, and carelessly said:
+
+"Let him alone; I knew the story long ago."
+
+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?
+
+"What about the surprise you were going to give your guests?" asked
+Carmen, after an uncomfortable pause.
+
+"I will keep my word," replied the painter, laughing. "Have you ever
+heard the name of Jane Zild, mademoiselle?"
+
+"Jane Zild? That wonderful songstress who comes from the north, either
+Lapland or Finland? What is the matter with her?"
+
+"Well, this songstress, who, by the way, comes from Russia, has promised
+to be here to-night," declared Gontram, triumphantly.
+
+"Ah, really?" replied Carmen, breathing heavily, while her eyes shot
+forth threatening gleams.
+
+"What ails you, mademoiselle?" asked Gontram uneasily, "have I hurt you
+in any way?"
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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:
+
+"A good host has generally several surprises _in petto_ for his guests;
+are you an exception to the general rule?"
+
+Gontram was about to reply when the door was opened and the servant
+announced:
+
+"Mademoiselle Jane Zild, the Vicomte of Monte-Cristo!"
+
+"There you have my second surprise," said the painter, laughing; "are
+you satisfied now?"
+
+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.
+
+"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?"
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+The climax of the performance was to be a duet, to be sung by the great
+Roger and a diva who was past her 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!"
+
+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.
+
+"What is your name, mademoiselle?" asked Roger.
+
+"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?"
+
+Without waiting for answer Jane Zild went to the piano.
+
+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:
+
+"Thank God, Madame X---- is sick!"
+
+"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.
+
+For two days nothing else was talked of in Paris but the young
+songstress. Jane Zild lived in a house in the Champs-Elysees. 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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"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?
+
+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.
+
+Gontram did not say no, and immediately hurried to the diva's house to
+thank her.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+Jane Zild strode the rooms with the dignity of a queen.
+
+"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.
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+"Well," she finally said, "I will forgive you, but only upon one
+condition. Have you a moment's time?"
+
+"For you always," replied the painter, warmly.
+
+"Good; then conduct me to the terrace."
+
+"To the terrace?" repeated Gontram in surprise. "How do you know I have
+a terrace?"
+
+"Oh, I heard my father mention it a little while ago."
+
+"That's so," replied the painter. "Will you please accompany me?"
+
+They both walked through the studio and turned into the gallery.
+
+Suddenly Gontram paused, and uttered a low cry of astonishment.
+
+Spero was leaning against a door sunk in thought.
+
+"Can I introduce the young man to you?" asked Gontram softly of his
+companion.
+
+"Who is he?" replied Carmen.
+
+"The Vicomte of Monte-Cristo!"
+
+"What? The son of the celebrated count?" asked the young lady, looking
+at Spero with increased interest.
+
+"Yes. I have a high regard for the vicomte."
+
+"I could have thought so," said Carmen, laughing.
+
+"What do you mean by that, mademoiselle?" asked Gontram in surprise.
+
+"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.
+
+"I hope to be able soon to prove my esteem for you," whispered the young
+man.
+
+Carmen was for a moment silent, and then vivaciously said:
+
+"Introduce me; I am curious to know your little vicomte."
+
+Just then Spero raised his head, and, seeing Gontram, he cordially said:
+
+"Gontram, am I not deserving of praise? You see I have accepted your
+invitation."
+
+"I am very grateful to you," replied the painter warmly, and turning to
+Carmen he said:
+
+"Mademoiselle de Larsagny, permit me to introduce the Vicomte of
+Monte-Cristo to you."
+
+Spero bowed deeply. The young lady gazed steadily at the handsome
+cavalier, and admiration shone in her eyes.
+
+"I really have not had the pleasure of seeing the vicomte. I should not
+have forgotten him."
+
+"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."
+
+Spero protested with a shake of the head, and muttered some disconnected
+words. Carmen, however, noticed that his thoughts were elsewhere.
+
+"Mademoiselle de Larsagny," said Gontram, laughing now, "I hope that you
+and the other ladies here will succeed in converting the hermit."
+
+Carmen was dissatisfied with the vicomte's indifference, and, bowing
+coldly, she went away, drawing the painter with her.
+
+"Well, how does my eccentric please you?" asked Gontram.
+
+"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?"
+
+"The same."
+
+"And has this man--Edmond Dantes was his right name--really had all the
+adventurous wanderings imputed to him?"
+
+"I am sure of it."
+
+"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?"
+
+"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
+visited, and he is again absent. However, if it interests you, I will
+make inquiries and--"
+
+"Not for any price," interrupted Carmen, laughing; "let us drop the
+subject and hurry to the terrace before others get there ahead of us."
+
+"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-Elysees was had from here.
+
+At that time the many mansions which now fill the Champs-Elysees were
+not yet built, and the eye reached far down the beautiful lanes to the
+Place de la Concorde.
+
+The two young persons stood upon the little terrace, and the spring wind
+played with Carmen's golden locks and fanned Gontram's cheeks.
+
+The young girl now leaned over the railing, and, breathing the balsamic
+air, she sighed:
+
+"Ah, how beautiful and peaceful it is here."
+
+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:
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+"Let us go back to the parlor," said the young girl, and it seemed to
+Gontram that her voice had changed in tone.
+
+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:
+
+"Gontram, have you a minute for me? I must speak to you."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXI
+
+A THUNDERBOLT
+
+
+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.
+
+"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."
+
+"Oh, that is not it," said Spero, hesitating; "but--"
+
+"Well, speak. You frighten me," said Gontram, uneasily.
+
+"Gontram," began the vicomte, "you have confidence in me?"
+
+"Certainly; but what have we to do with that now? You know that I esteem
+you--"
+
+"And you do not think me capable of deceiving or lying to you?"
+
+"Spero, I do not know you any more," cried Gontram, more and more
+confused.
+
+"Have patience, you will soon learn to understand me," said the vicomte,
+smiling curiously; "let me now tell you what has happened to me."
+
+Spero took a long breath, and then continued:
+
+"About ten minutes ago I was standing here, listening 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.'"
+
+"A trap laid? What does that mean, and who was it that gave you this
+warning?" asked Gontram, in amazement.
+
+"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."
+
+"No one?" repeated the painter, breathing more freely. "That looks like
+magic! Are you sure, Spero, that you didn't deceive yourself?"
+
+"You do not believe me," said the vicomte, smiling sorrowfully.
+
+"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--"
+
+"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."
+
+"Curious! Perhaps some one has played a joke upon you."
+
+"That would not be improbable, yet I do not believe it. The words were
+spoken seriously."
+
+"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?"
+
+"Perfect confidence," said the vicomte, warmly.
+
+"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.
+
+"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."
+
+Jane Zild had risen after the song was ended, and while the applause
+sounded about her, she looked steadily at the vicomte.
+
+"Banish the black thoughts," whispered Gontram to the young man, "come
+and talk a little to the diva; she appears to expect it."
+
+"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."
+
+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."
+
+Just then something unexpected happened. A burning candle fell down
+from the chandelier, and a flame licked the black lace dress of the diva
+and enveloped her.
+
+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.
+
+The next minute Jane stood with pale face, but otherwise uninjured,
+before her rescuer, and holding her little hand to him, she whispered
+cordially:
+
+"Thanks, a thousand thanks!"
+
+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.
+
+A man dressed in plain dark clothes hurried through the crowd, and
+looking anxiously at Jane he cried in a vibrating voice:
+
+"Are you injured?"
+
+The diva trembled when she heard the voice, and blushing deeply, she
+hastily replied:
+
+"No, thank God, I am not hurt. The coolness of the Vicomte of
+Monte-Cristo prevented a misfortune."
+
+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.
+
+The man bowed respectfully to the vicomte, and Jane, turning to Spero,
+said in cordial tones:
+
+"Complete your good work, vicomte, and conduct me to my carriage."
+
+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:
+
+"I hope we shall see each other again."
+
+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.
+
+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:
+
+"You have forgotten your hat, vicomte. Jean, quick, go and get it."
+
+Spero, in astonishment, felt his head; it was true, the coachman was
+right.
+
+"Stay, Jean, I shall go myself," he briefly said, as he hurried back to
+the house.
+
+Just as he reached the stairs, Monsieur de Larsagny and his daughter,
+whom Gontram escorted, and Count Vellini and his secretary came down.
+
+"Vicomte," said Carmen, vivaciously, "you are a hero, and the rest of
+the gentlemen can take you for an example."
+
+Monsieur de Larsagny coughed slightly, while Fagiano loudly cried:
+
+"The vicomte is the worthy son of his father, the great count."
+
+These words, although spoken in a respectful tone, displeased Spero, yet
+he kept silent and the guests departed.
+
+"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."
+
+"That is my position, too," replied the vicomte.
+
+The servant brought them their hats and cloaks, and they both walked in
+the direction of the Champs-Elysees. Neither of them noticed a dark form
+which stood at a street corner and looked after them.
+
+"Have a care," hissed Fagiano's voice, "you shall suffer for being his
+son."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXII
+
+OLD ACQUAINTANCES
+
+
+Jane Zild lived in a modest room in a small house on the Champs-Elysees.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"What is the matter, my dear?" asked the worthy lady.
+
+"Oh, nothing," replied Jane; "I am only tired."
+
+"Then you tell me, at least, what has occurred," said Madame Vollard,
+turning to Melosan.
+
+"Later on, later on. The young lady is excited and needs rest."
+
+"Oh, I will give her some drops," said the good-hearted lady, "I--"
+
+"Good-night, Madame Vollard," said the secretary, and taking a light
+from the lady's hands, he hurried up the stairs with Jane.
+
+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.
+
+"You are suffering?" he said, after a pause.
+
+Jane shuddered. "Ah, no," she said, "I am feeling perfectly well."
+
+"But the fright?"
+
+"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!"
+
+Melosan held down his head.
+
+"A queen would have been proud at the reception you had to-night."
+
+"Why do you tell me this?" she exclaimed. "A queen? I? Oh, what bitter
+mockery!"
+
+"But your eminent talent--your voice?"
+
+"Would to God I had none! I--but go now, I want to be alone."
+
+The man sorrowfully approached the door; on the threshold he paused and
+imploringly murmured:
+
+"Pardon me, Jane, I did not wish to hurt you."
+
+"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!"
+
+She sobbed as if her heart would break, and Melosan wrung his hands in
+despair.
+
+"Jane, tell me what has happened," he said, in despair. "I have never
+seen you this way before. Has any one insulted you?"
+
+"No one," said Jane, softly, "no one."
+
+"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."
+
+Melosan's words caused the young girl to dry her tears.
+
+"You are right," she said, half ashamed, "I was foolish and ungrateful.
+I will forget the past. Forgive me--grief overwhelmed me."
+
+"You are an angel," cried Melosan, enthusiastically; "but now you must
+really go to bed. Good-night, Jane."
+
+"Good-night," said the young girl, cordially, and then the door closed
+behind Melosan.
+
+As the secretary was about to go to his room, Madame Vollard intercepted
+him on the stairs.
+
+"Well, how goes it?" she asked; "has the poor child recovered?"
+
+"Yes, thank you."
+
+"What occurred?"
+
+"She was almost burned to death; her dress had already caught fire."
+
+"What a lucky accident--"
+
+"Lucky accident?" repeated Melosan, not understanding.
+
+"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--"
+
+"To-morrow, Madame Vollard, to-morrow," Melosan interrupted her. "I
+really feel fatigued, and should like to go to my room."
+
+"You are right. I ought to have known it."
+
+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.
+
+"What is going to happen now," he muttered to himself; "my money is
+nearly all gone, and--"
+
+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.
+
+"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--"
+
+A slight noise caused Melosan to pause and listen. For a while all was
+silent, and then the noise recommenced. He hurried to the door, but
+could not see any one, and returning to the room he shook his head and
+resumed his seat.
+
+"I must have been deceived," he murmured uneasily, "and yet I thought--"
+
+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.
+
+"Who's there?" he cried.
+
+"Some one who desires to speak to you," came back in firm tones.
+
+"To me? At this hour?" asked the secretary in a daze.
+
+"Yes, to you--open quickly or I shall burst in the window."
+
+Melosan saw that it could not be a thief, and so he hesitatingly shoved
+back the bolt.
+
+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:
+
+"You! You! O God! how did you get here?"
+
+"Ha! ha! ha! Don't you see I came from the roof?" cried the man,
+mockingly.
+
+"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."
+
+"You won't do any such thing," said the other, coolly. "Do you think
+because you are posing as an honest man 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?"
+
+A shudder ran through Melosan, and he looked at the floor in despair.
+
+"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.
+
+Melosan was evidently struggling with himself. At last he had made up
+his mind, and, angrily approaching the other, said:
+
+"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."
+
+"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!"
+
+"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!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXIII
+
+THE CATASTROPHE
+
+
+The two men looked at each other with flaming eyes. In Toulon they were
+chained together, and now--
+
+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.
+
+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:
+
+"We two have nothing in common any more."
+
+"That is a question. Sit down and listen to me."
+
+"No, Benedetto, we are done with each other."
+
+"Nonsense--you have become virtuous all of a sudden," mocked Count
+Vellini's secretary.
+
+"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 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!"
+
+"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?"
+
+Anselmo moaned aloud.
+
+"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."
+
+"I--do not--understand you," stammered Anselmo.
+
+"Think of the past," replied Benedetto, frowning.
+
+"Of the time when the smith fastened us to the same chain?"
+
+"Oh, think again."
+
+Anselmo trembled.
+
+"Do you speak of the moment when we jumped into the sea and escaped from
+the galleys?" he softly asked.
+
+"No; your memory seems to be weak."
+
+"I do not know what you mean."
+
+"Really? You seem to have drunk from the spring of Lethe," said
+Benedetto, contemptuously. "Anselmo, have you forgotten our meeting at
+Beaussuet?"
+
+"Scoundrel! miserable wretch! Do you really dare to remind me of that?"
+cried Anselmo, beside himself.
+
+"Why not?"
+
+"If you can do so--no power on earth can induce me to say another word
+about that horrible affair," said Anselmo, shuddering.
+
+"My nerves are better than yours," laughed Benedetto. "It was only to
+speak to you about that particular night that I braved the danger of
+hunting you up. I need you as a witness, and that is why you see me
+here."
+
+"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!"
+
+"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?"
+
+"Yes," groaned Anselmo.
+
+"No jeremiads! Do you also remember the vicarage at Beaussuet?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Well, a certain person came expressly from Toulon to see about a sum of
+money, a million--"
+
+"I have not touched a penny of the money," interrupted Anselmo,
+shuddering.
+
+"No, certainly not, you were always unselfish. Well, do not interrupt
+me. The person who came from Toulon (_recte_ Benedetto) was just about
+to put the sum of money in his pocket, when the devil sent a stranger
+who--"
+
+"Benedetto, if you are a human being and not a devil, keep silent,"
+cried Anselmo, beside himself.
+
+Benedetto shrugged his shoulders.
+
+"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."
+
+"Wretch! It was the breast of your mother!" stammered Anselmo.
+
+"Ah, your memory is returning to you," mocked Benedetto, with a cynical
+smile. "Yes, it was my mother. But how did you know it?"
+
+"I met the unfortunate woman on the way in the gorges of Oliolles--"
+
+"Ah! and there she told you the story of her life."
+
+"She begged me to help her save her son, and I promised to do so; I knew
+that you were that wretched son."
+
+"Did she tell you her name?" said Benedetto, uneasily.
+
+"She hid nothing from me. I found out that the son she wished to save
+intended to murder her--"
+
+"Facts," said Benedetto, roughly, "and less talk."
+
+"And that this son was a child of sin."
+
+"Ah, really; and her name?"
+
+"She made me swear to keep it secret."
+
+"So much the better! She really thought, then, that a galley-slave was a
+man of his word?"
+
+"Galley-slave or not, I have kept silent, and will do so further."
+
+"You are a hero! Nevertheless, you can tell me the name."
+
+"No!"
+
+"And if I demand it?"
+
+"I won't tell you, either."
+
+"Anselmo, have a care!" hissed Benedetto, angrily. "Tell me the name,
+or--"
+
+"I am silent," declared Anselmo; "you do not know the name, and you will
+never learn it from me."
+
+Benedetto broke into a coarse laugh.
+
+"You are either very naive," he said, "or think I am. I only wished to
+see if you had not forgotten the name. The lady was Madame Danglars."
+
+Anselmo uttered a cry of rage.
+
+"Well, preacher of words, what do you say now?" asked Benedetto,
+politely.
+
+"Since you know the name, we are done with each other," said Anselmo,
+"and I think you will now leave me in peace."
+
+"You are wrong, my dear Anselmo; do you know that you are very
+disrespectful?"
+
+Anselmo began to ponder whether it would not be better to appear more
+friendly to the hated comrade.
+
+"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--"
+
+"As I had reason to notice," interrupted Benedetto. "You were ready to
+kill me."
+
+"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."
+
+"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."
+
+Anselmo sprang upon Benedetto and, holding his clinched fist in his
+face, he said:
+
+"Benedetto, if you care to live, don't say another word!"
+
+"And why?" asked the wretch, with silent contempt.
+
+"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."
+
+"You forbid me? Come now, Anselmo, you speak in a peculiar tone," hissed
+Benedetto.
+
+"I speak exactly in the tone the matter demands. You know my opinion;
+conduct yourself accordingly."
+
+"And if I did not care to obey you?"
+
+"Then I would denounce you, even though I put my own neck in danger."
+
+"Ha! ha! I tell you you won't do anything of the kind."
+
+"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."
+
+"Have you pen, ink and paper?" asked Benedetto, after Anselmo had
+concluded.
+
+"Yes. What do you want to do with them?"
+
+"You shall soon find out."
+
+Anselmo silently pointed to a table upon which writing materials lay.
+Benedetto dipped the pen in the ink, and, grinning, said:
+
+"My friend, have the kindness to take this pen and write what I
+dictate."
+
+"I?"
+
+"Yes, you. I only want you to write a few lines."
+
+"What shall I write?"
+
+"The truth."
+
+"I do not understand you."
+
+"It is very simple; you will write down what you have just said."
+
+"Explain yourself more clearly."
+
+"With pleasure; better still, write what I dictate."
+
+Anselmo looked uneasily at the wretch; Benedetto quietly walked behind
+the ex-priest's chair, and began:
+
+"On the 24th of February, 1839, Benedetto, an escaped convict from the
+galleys of Toulon, murdered Madame Danglars, his mother."
+
+"That is horrible!" cried Anselmo, throwing the pen down; "I shall not
+write that."
+
+"You will write; you know I can force you; therefore--"
+
+Anselmo sighed, and took up the pen again.
+
+"So, I am done now," he said, after a pause; "must it be signed, too?"
+
+"Certainly; though the name has nothing to do with it. You can put any
+one you please under it."
+
+It sounded very simple, and yet Anselmo hesitated.
+
+"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."
+
+Benedetto laughed in a peculiar way.
+
+"I know you are not rich," said the pretended secretary, "and--"
+
+Anselmo made a threatening gesture, but Benedetto continued:
+
+"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--"
+
+Unconsciously Anselmo glanced at the portfolio which lay on the table.
+Benedetto noticed it and laughed maliciously.
+
+"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."
+
+"But I have not asked for anything," murmured Anselmo.
+
+"I offer you a price."
+
+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."
+
+Anselmo grew pale. Did Benedetto know of his troubles? Had he read his
+thoughts?
+
+"I will not do it," he said, rising up. "Keep your money, Benedetto; it
+would bring me misfortune."
+
+Benedetto uttered a cry of rage, and, grasping the pen, he seated
+himself at the table and wrote a few words.
+
+"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."
+
+Anselmo read, and the blood rushed to his head. He 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--"
+
+"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.
+
+"No nonsense," he sternly said, "either you write or I will send the
+notice to the papers to-morrow."
+
+The ex-priest took the pen and with a trembling hand wrote what
+Benedetto had asked of him.
+
+"Here," he said, in a choking voice, "swear to me--but no--you do not
+believe in anything--I--"
+
+"My dear friend," interrupted Benedetto, "do not take the thing so
+seriously. I have no intention of disturbing your peace."
+
+Anselmo sank upon a chair, and his eyes filled with hot tears.
+
+Benedetto hastily ran over the paper and his lips curled contemptuously
+when he saw the signature.
+
+"The fool wrote his own name," he murmured as he rubbed his hands, "may
+it do him good."
+
+The next minute the secretary of Count Vellini disappeared, and Anselmo
+breathed more freely.
+
+Suddenly an idea flew through his brain as his gaze fell upon the
+bank-notes.
+
+"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--"
+
+In desperation he walked up and down the room and disconnected words
+came from his lips.
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+"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."
+
+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!
+
+Uttering a cry he rushed out of the room and down the stairs, and, a
+prey to despair, hurried out into the dark night.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXIV
+
+A SHOT
+
+
+In deep silence Gontram and Spero walked along the Champs-Elysees, 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.
+
+"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."
+
+Spero looked up in amazement. Buried in thought, he believed his friend
+had spoken to him, and so he said confusedly:
+
+"Excuse me, Gontram, I was thinking of something else and didn't catch
+your meaning."
+
+"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."
+
+"I do not understand," stammered Spero.
+
+"I believe you; but do you know that we are both in the same boat?"
+
+"How so?"
+
+"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."
+
+"A confession? Have you any debts? You know very well--"
+
+"That your purse is open to me I know, but I want to make a loan with
+your heart."
+
+"Speak quickly; what is the matter?"
+
+"It is about the solution of a problem which has already brought many a
+man to the brink of despair."
+
+"Gontram!"
+
+"Yes, look at me; it is unfortunately true. One of the most interesting
+chapters in Rabelais's 'Pantagruel' is devoted to the theme."
+
+Spero was not in the humor for any literary discussion, and so he firmly
+said:
+
+"If Rabelais handled this theme, he did it undoubtedly in a more worthy
+way than I could possibly have done."
+
+"H'm, Rabelais merely gives the question, but does not answer it."
+
+"You are speaking in riddles," said the vicomte, laughing, "and, as you
+know, I have very little acquaintance with practical life."
+
+"But you know 'Pantagruel'?"
+
+"Yes, but--"
+
+"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.'"
+
+"Ah, so that is the question you wish to place before me?" said Spero.
+
+"Yes."
+
+"But why do you come to me for my advice in such a delicate matter?"
+
+"Because I have confidence in you," replied the painter, warmly.
+
+"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."
+
+"Then you advise me to marry?"
+
+"If the woman you have selected is worthy to be your wife."
+
+For a time they were both silent, and then Spero continued:
+
+"I think marriage must be based upon unlimited mutual esteem."
+
+"You are right. You have, no doubt, observed that the young lady whom I
+conducted through the parlor this evening--"
+
+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:
+
+"The young lady has captivated me--"
+
+"Of which lady are you speaking?" asked the vicomte, uneasily.
+
+"Of the pretty blonde, Mademoiselle de Larsagny!"
+
+"Ah! she is certainly very handsome," cried Spero, breathing more
+freely.
+
+"Don't you think so?" exclaimed Gontram, enthusiastically. "That is the
+young lady I mean."
+
+"In that case I can only congratulate you on the choice you have made."
+
+"Thank you. Then you think Carmen de Larsagny charming?"
+
+"Yes. From what I have seen of the young lady she deserves the love of
+such a splendid fellow as you are."
+
+"If I were to obey the voice of love," said Gontram, "I would go to her
+now and say: 'I love you--be mine!'"
+
+"And why do you hesitate? You love her, do you not?"
+
+"I suppose so; Carmen is charming. This evening I was at the point of
+proposing--"
+
+"Well? and--"
+
+"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."
+
+"Such things are sometimes deceiving," said Spero.
+
+"That may be, but every time I think of a marriage with Carmen a feeling
+of uneasiness overcomes me."
+
+"That is merely nervous excitement."
+
+"I am in love and--"
+
+"Well, you hesitate?"
+
+"I have not told you everything yet. I committed an indiscretion."
+
+"Of what nature?"
+
+"I embraced Mademoiselle de Larsagny and kissed her."
+
+"Ah! and the young girl?"
+
+"Did not repulse me. Now shall I marry or not?"
+
+"What does your heart tell you?"
+
+"My heart is like Pantagruel. It knows no decided answer."
+
+"Good. If you follow my advice, marry the girl. A kiss between two good
+young people is as binding as an engagement."
+
+"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."
+
+"Perhaps it is her father, Monsieur de Larsagny, who does not inspire
+you with confidence?" said Spero after a pause.
+
+In the meantime the two friends reached the Arc de Triomphe and walked
+up and down the woods.
+
+"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."
+
+At this moment a shot sounded in the still night, and the friends stood
+still and looked at each other in surprise.
+
+"What was that?" cried Spero.
+
+"A shot, and, as I fear, a crime," said Gontram, softly.
+
+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.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXV
+
+WILL SHE LIVE?
+
+
+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:
+
+"Spero, where are you going with this corpse?"
+
+"She is not dead," replied the vicomte, tremblingly. "She lives; she
+must live--she dare not die!"
+
+"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.
+
+"Jane! Jane Zild?" stammered the painter, terror-stricken. "O my God!"
+
+They had now reached the Place de l'Etoile, and Gontram looked around
+for a carriage.
+
+"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."
+
+"Do so, Gontram, and hurry--every minute counts."
+
+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 Jane, and, hiding his face in his hands, he sobbed
+bitterly.
+
+Gontram now approached his friend.
+
+"Spero," he said, "calm yourself; we must rescue the poor child."
+
+The vicomte sprang up.
+
+"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."
+
+"She is no doubt wounded," said Gontram softly.
+
+"Yes, just hold a light here," cried the vicomte. "I will examine her. I
+have not studied medicine for nothing."
+
+The vicomte laid his ear to her bosom, and then said:
+
+"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."
+
+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:
+
+"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!"
+
+He pressed his lips upon her pale mouth, and with this kiss his soul was
+bound to that of the young girl.
+
+Gontram now returned; Spero opened the box and took an instrument from
+it.
+
+"Feel if my hand trembles," he said, turning to the painter; "only if
+that is not the case can I dare to probe for the bullet."
+
+Gontram took hold of the white hand. It did not tremble, and Spero began
+to probe for the bullet.
+
+"The ball has not touched a vital part," whispered the vicomte at
+length; "it lies in the muscles. I touched it with the instrument."
+
+"Do you think you can remove the bullet?" asked the painter.
+
+"I hope so."
+
+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.
+
+An anxious moment passed and then Spero triumphantly exclaimed:
+
+"Saved!"
+
+"Saved," repeated Gontram as he took the murderous lead from the
+vicomte's hand.
+
+"Then we can call the housekeeper," said Spero, after he had poured a
+liquid down the young girl's throat.
+
+He hurried out, and returned in less than five minutes with Madame
+Caraman.
+
+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 _coup d'etat_ 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 no questions,
+but, with the vicomte's assistance, placed a bandage upon the young
+girl's wound and wished to discreetly retire.
+
+"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."
+
+Spero thereupon withdrew, while Jane Zild remained under the care of the
+good-hearted woman.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXVI
+
+MELOSAN'S SECRET
+
+
+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?
+
+Two policemen were patrolling the Champs-Elysees, and Anselmo went up to
+them and politely asked them whether they had not seen his mistress, a
+young lady?
+
+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.
+
+He had reached the polygon and listened attentively. He heard steps, but
+not the right ones. Suppose Jane had committed suicide?
+
+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.
+
+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?
+
+What mysterious tie bound him to Jane Zild? the former galley-slave to
+the beautiful, talented creature?
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+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.
+
+Benedetto was thrown into the sea, and was rescued upon the island of
+Monte-Cristo.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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:
+
+"Let me go! I want to go for my daughter. I have nothing to do with you.
+Help, help!"
+
+Anselmo stood still. A woman was no doubt struggling with some men, and
+when her cries redoubled, he forgot his prudence and hurried toward the
+group.
+
+As he suspected, he found three drunken workmen trying to force a
+sixteen-year-old girl from the grasp of an elderly woman.
+
+The woman cried loudly for help and struck angrily around her. The young
+girl, however, silently defended herself.
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+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:
+
+"Oh, mother, mother! What is the matter with you? My God, she is dying!"
+
+This really seemed to be the case; the poor woman had become deathly
+pale, and sank to the ground.
+
+"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?"
+
+As simple as the question was, the girl appeared to be embarrassed by
+it.
+
+"Won't you tell me where you live?" said Anselmo, as the girl remained
+silent.
+
+"We do not live far from here, in the Rue Franchefoin."
+
+"I do not know that street."
+
+"Ah, I believe you," stammered the poor child, shuddering; "I shall
+proceed in advance."
+
+"Do so," said Anselmo.
+
+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.
+
+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:
+
+"Zilda has taken time. She stayed away a good two hours to get her
+daughter."
+
+"My mother is dangerously ill, perhaps dying," said the young girl in a
+sharp voice.
+
+"It won't be so serious," replied the woman, with a coarse laugh.
+
+"Have you not heard that the woman is dangerously ill?" said the
+ex-priest.
+
+"Is she sick?" asked the woman, coldly. "Well, if she dies, it won't be
+a great misfortune. I--"
+
+"Madame, for God's sake!" implored the young girl.
+
+"Show me to a room where I can lay the invalid down," said Anselmo
+roughly.
+
+"Yes, yes, directly. Follow me if you are in such a hurry," growled the
+woman.
+
+Just then two men who were intoxicated staggered into the hallway.
+
+"Ah, there is Zilda," cried one of them; "quick, old woman; come in and
+sing us a song."
+
+The woman opened a door and winked to the ex-priest to enter. The room
+was small and dirty. In the corner stood a slovenly bed upon which
+Anselmo deposited the invalid.
+
+"Is there a physician in the neighborhood?" he asked.
+
+"A physician? That is hardly worth the trouble," mocked the virago, "she
+is only drunk."
+
+The ex-priest took a five-franc piece from his pocket and said:
+
+"Get a physician, I insist upon it."
+
+The next minute the virago was on the way.
+
+Anselmo remained alone with the two women. The young girl sobbed
+silently, and the invalid remained motionless.
+
+"Mademoiselle," he began, "I think you might loosen your mother's dress;
+the fainting fit lasts rather long."
+
+The young girl looked at him, seeming not to understand.
+
+"She is your mother, is she not?"
+
+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:
+
+"No more, no water, leave me!"
+
+"Mother," said the young girl, "mother, it is I; do you not know me?"
+
+"No, I do not know who you are!" cried the invalid. "Away, I cannot sing
+to-day--my breast pains me. Oh--"
+
+"Oh, mother," sobbed the poor child.
+
+"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.
+
+Suddenly the delirious woman caught sight of Anselmo, and with a
+terrible cry she sprung at him with clinched fists.
+
+"There you are, you wretch," she hissed; "where have you put your black
+coat?"
+
+Just then the virago returned with the doctor.
+
+The latter looked contemptuously at her, and in a gruff voice said:
+
+"Lie down!"
+
+He then beat her bosom, counted her pulse, and shook his head.
+
+"Nothing can be done," he dryly declared; "her strength has been
+impaired by a fast and dissipated life, and--"
+
+"But, doctor," interrupted Anselmo, "have some compunction for the poor
+woman. You see she is conscious and understands every word."
+
+"Ah, you are probably a relative of hers, or has your warm interest in
+her some other ground?"
+
+"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."
+
+This threat had the desired effect. The doctor drew his note-book from
+his pocket, rapidly wrote a prescription, and went away.
+
+Anselmo took the prescription and hurried to the nearest drug-store. As
+he walked along the snow-covered streets, he muttered to himself:
+
+"Merciful God, do not punish me so hard!"
+
+When he returned he found the virago awaiting him at the door.
+
+"Monsieur," she said, "it seems that Zilda interests you."
+
+"Yes, like any other unhappy creature."
+
+"Well, I have her papers. Her name is Zild--Jane Zild."
+
+"Give them to me," said Anselmo, firmly; "I will take care of her."
+
+"May God reward you; the sooner you get her out of my house the happier
+I shall be."
+
+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.
+
+"Where can I look through them?" he asked, uneasily.
+
+"Oh, come into the kitchen."
+
+Anselmo accepted her invitation, and by the flickering light of a tallow
+candle he unfolded the yellow and withered papers.
+
+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.
+
+"The reading seems to overtax your strength," said the woman giggling.
+"Zilda has travelled a great deal, and maybe you have met her before."
+
+"I hardly think so," stammered Anselmo.
+
+In company with the virago, Anselmo re-entered the sick-room, and,
+laying his hand on the young girl's shoulder, he said:
+
+"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."
+
+"Not for any price," cried the little one in terror. "I cannot stay in
+this house overnight."
+
+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.
+
+"Good-night, mother," she said, sobbing.
+
+The woman looked vacantly at her and gave no sign of recognition of her
+daughter.
+
+"Do not wake your mother up," said Anselmo, hastily. "Sleep is necessary
+to her and I will call you if she asks for you."
+
+"Then you really intend to stay here?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Do you know us?"
+
+"No," stammered Anselmo; "but go to bed now, it is late."
+
+"You will surely call me?" asked the little one.
+
+"Certainly; go now and rely on me."
+
+She went, and Anselmo was alone with the invalid--the dying woman, as he
+shudderingly said to himself.
+
+From time to time the sick woman would wake up in her sleep and utter a
+low moan.
+
+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?
+
+Suddenly the invalid opened her big black eyes, and gazed at the
+ex-convict who was sitting by her bedside with folded hands.
+
+"How did you get here?" she asked, timidly.
+
+"You are sick, keep quiet; later on you shall learn everything,"
+replied Anselmo.
+
+"I am sick! Ha! ha! ha! I am cursed--cursed!" she cried.
+
+"Keep still; go to sleep," begged Anselmo, frightened. "No one has
+cursed you."
+
+"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!"
+
+The dying woman with trembling hands made the sign of the cross, and
+Anselmo groaned and moaned.
+
+"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.
+
+"'Why do you not come to confession?' he asked sternly.
+
+"'Because my father said I was too young, and have no sins to confess.'
+
+"'We are all sinners in God,' he earnestly replied. 'Do not forget that
+you will be eternally damned if you do not confess.'
+
+"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."
+
+Anselmo leaned his head against the hard bed-post and sobbed--they were
+the bitterest tears he had ever wept.
+
+"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.
+
+"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!"
+
+"Mercy," implored Anselmo. "Mercy, Jane!"
+
+"Ha! who--is it that--calls me?" stammered the dying woman, faintly. "I
+should know--that--voice!"
+
+"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?"
+
+But the invalid could not speak any more; she only nodded, and then
+closed her eyes forever.
+
+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.
+
+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:
+
+"God be thanked that your troubles are over, poor mother--now I can love
+you without blushing for you."
+
+Anselmo ordered a respectable funeral, and when he returned from the
+cemetery with the young girl he said with deep emotion:
+
+"Jane, I knew your mother--I promised her that I would look out for you.
+Will you stay with me?"
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+But Jane refused all offers from the managers, and when Anselmo
+reproached her she said, in bitter tones:
+
+"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!"
+
+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?
+
+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.
+
+When Anselmo heard the name of the Vicomte of Monte-Cristo, he
+recollected the oath which the convict Benedetto had sworn against the
+Count of Monte-Cristo.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"Jane--my child!" cried the despairing father; but when he reached the
+spot where he had seen the apparition it was empty.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+But the shore was still far away, the body lay heavy as lead on his left
+arm, and much as he tried to cleave 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?
+
+"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:
+
+"Help! help!"
+
+"Patience! Keep up a moment longer! I am coming!" came back in a loud
+voice.
+
+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.
+
+"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?"
+
+"Bring them to my house, Bobichel," said the other, a strong, handsome
+man, "and everything will be explained there."
+
+"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?"
+
+"She will at once prepare for everything," said Fanfaro, laughing.
+
+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.
+
+Five minutes later both the unfortunates lay in a comfortably warmed
+room, and Fanfaro, his wife, and Bobichel busily attended to them.
+
+"Who can they be?" asked Irene, gently, of her husband.
+
+"God knows," replied Fanfaro; "anyhow, I am glad that they both still
+live."
+
+But the woman Anselmo had rescued at the risk of his life was not Jane,
+but a gray-haired old lady.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXVII
+
+CARMEN
+
+
+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.
+
+"Aha, bah!" she muttered; "he shall tell me all."
+
+She rang a silver bell, and immediately after a maid appeared.
+
+"Where is Monsieur de Larsagny?"
+
+"In his office."
+
+"Since when?"
+
+"Since eight o'clock."
+
+"And what time is it now?"
+
+"Ten."
+
+"Good. Tell Jean to serve breakfast here in my boudoir, and then go and
+tell Monsieur de Larsagny that I await him."
+
+A quarter of an hour later the banker appeared in the boudoir.
+
+He ate so greedily that Carmen impatiently exclaimed:
+
+"Are you not yet satisfied?"
+
+"Really, I have a good appetite this morning," nodded Larsagny.
+
+"Do you know how your phenomenal appetite appears to me?" asked Carmen,
+laughing.
+
+"No. What do you mean?"
+
+"Well, I mean that you must have been starving at one time, and since
+then you always feel greedy."
+
+Larsagny shuddered and his brow contracted.
+
+"Do not speak of such things; I cannot bear it," he said, with a frown.
+
+"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--"
+
+"Carmen, be silent," said the banker, sternly; "you'll spoil my appetite
+if you talk so."
+
+"I should think your appetite would be stilled by this time. What you
+have already eaten would have fed an army."
+
+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:
+
+"So, now I can stand it for a little while."
+
+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.
+
+Carmen lighted a cigarette, and, leaning back in her chair, said:
+
+"I have something important to say to you."
+
+"What is it?" asked Larsagny.
+
+"Oh! different things," replied Carmen.
+
+"About money? Do not be timid."
+
+"It is not about money, but about an information."
+
+"An information?" asked the banker.
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Really, Carmen, you are speaking in riddles to-day--"
+
+"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?"
+
+"Ah! that's very simple; I am hungry."
+
+"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."
+
+"Carmen, how often have I told you that I do not like these
+reminiscences?"
+
+"Why not? Take an example from me, and tell me a little of your past."
+
+"Enough--enough!" cried Larsagny, growing pale.
+
+"Answer my questions, and then you shall have quiet."
+
+"Carmen, you are bothering yourself and me unnecessarily. I give you the
+assurance--"
+
+"As if your assurances had the slightest value for me," interrupted
+Carmen.
+
+Larsagny smiled in a sickly fashion.
+
+"Carmen, you are childish," he said. "I should think you ought to have
+known enough of me by this time to--"
+
+"To be able to hate you thoroughly. You have cheated me of my youth and
+innocence."
+
+"Carmen, for God's sake, not so loud! Suppose some one heard you?" cried
+the banker, anxiously.
+
+"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 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."
+
+"Carmen!"
+
+"Yes, yes, I know I am no better than you. Monsieur de Larsagny, tell me
+why you do not make me your wife?"
+
+"My God, because--"
+
+"Well? Why do you pause? Do you know what I believe? You are a married
+man with a dreadful past!"
+
+"Carmen, you are doing me an injury."
+
+"Ha! ha! If I do you a wrong, I am at the most too easy with you."
+
+"Carmen, what is the matter with you?" exclaimed Larsagny, in despair.
+"Only yesterday you were so affectionate, and now--"
+
+"Bah! Yesterday is yesterday, and to-day is to-day. Either I find out
+from you who you really are, or--"
+
+"Or?"
+
+"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."
+
+Larsagny had sprung up, and looking at Carmen in amazement, he
+stammered:
+
+"You--would--dare--to do--that?"
+
+"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."
+
+"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--"
+
+"Well, in spite of all that?"
+
+"I do not deserve your unjust accusations. Can you, for instance,
+reproach me for the hunger which bothers me continually?"
+
+"No, only I should like to learn the cause."
+
+"The cause?" repeated Larsagny.
+
+"Yes."
+
+"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.
+
+"'Can I get a meal here?' I asked of the bandit, who was swallowing some
+peas.
+
+"'Is your excellency hungry?' asked the fellow (his name was Peppino) in
+surprise.
+
+"I was angry.
+
+"'What!' I exclaimed in a rage, 'since twenty-four hours I have not
+eaten a thing, and you ask me if I am hungry.'
+
+"'Then you wish to eat?'
+
+"'Yes, at once, if it is possible.'
+
+"'If you pay for it.'
+
+"'I will pay what you ask,' I cried.
+
+"'What do you wish?'
+
+"'Anything, a chicken or a partridge.'
+
+"'Good. Let us say a chicken.'
+
+"'But have you a cook here?'
+
+"'Certainly,' nodded the bandit, and, raising his voice, he cried: 'A
+chicken for the gentleman.'
+
+"Ten minutes later a chicken was brought in by a waiter in a frock suit.
+For a moment I thought I was in the Cafe de Paris.
+
+"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:
+
+"'Pardon me, your excellency, but we get paid here before things are
+eaten.'
+
+"I looked at him in astonishment.
+
+"'What does the chicken cost?' I asked.
+
+"'Five thousand louis d'ors, or one hundred thousand francs.'
+
+"'Are you crazy? One hundred thousand francs for a chicken?'
+
+"'Your excellency is not aware how hard it is to get chickens in this
+neighborhood.'"
+
+"Well, and how did the matter end?" asked Carmen.
+
+"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.
+
+"'How dear is the bread?' I asked, trembling.
+
+"'One hundred thousand francs.'
+
+"'What! A piece of bread one hundred thousand francs?' I cried in
+amazement.
+
+"'One hundred thousand francs.'
+
+"'But you asked no more for the chicken?'
+
+"'Prices here are fixed,' replied Peppino; 'pay and you can eat.'
+
+"'But with what should I pay?' I cried in desperation; 'the money I have
+with me--'
+
+"'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.'
+
+"I was astounded. The robbers knew exactly how much money I had, and I
+saw I had either to pay or to starve.
+
+"'Will I be able to eat in silence?' I asked, 'if I pay?'
+
+"'Certainly.'
+
+"'Good, then bring me some writing materials.'
+
+"I wrote out a draft on Rome for one hundred thousand francs, and
+received the chicken."
+
+"What was their motive?" asked Carmen.
+
+"Merely to plunder and blackmail me."
+
+"Then they demanded more?" asked Carmen.
+
+"Oh, no. After I had eaten the chicken, I felt thirsty. I called Peppina
+and told him.
+
+"'You wish to drink something?' he asked.
+
+"'Yes. I am dying with thirst.'
+
+"'I am very sorry to hear it. The wine this year is very bad and very
+dear.'
+
+"'Then bring me water,' I cried.
+
+"'Oh, water is still dearer.'
+
+"'Then give me a glass of wine.'
+
+"'We only sell by the bottle.'
+
+"'Then bring me a bottle of Orreto.'
+
+"'Directly.'
+
+"'And the wine costs?'
+
+"'Twenty-five thousand francs per bottle.'
+
+"'Swindler! Robber!' I cried, beside myself.
+
+"'Do not talk so loud, master might hear you.'
+
+"'I don't care. Who is your master?'
+
+"'Luigi Vampa.'
+
+"'Can I speak to him?'
+
+"'Yes.'
+
+"Peppino went away, and two minutes later a slimly built, fine-looking
+man, with dark hair and eyes, stood before me!
+
+"'You want to speak to me?' he asked, politely.
+
+"'Are you the chief of the people who brought me here?' I said.
+
+"'Yes.'
+
+"'What ransom do you wish of me?'
+
+"'Only the five million francs you possess.'
+
+"'Take my life,' I cried, 'but leave me my money.'
+
+"'Your death wouldn't do us any good,' replied the bandit, 'but your
+money would.'
+
+"'Take a million then?'
+
+"'No.'
+
+"'Two?'
+
+"'No.'
+
+"'Three?'
+
+"'No.'
+
+"'Four?'
+
+"'We leave haggling to usurers.'
+
+"'Then take everything from me and kill me!' I cried in despair.
+
+"'We do not wish to do that.'
+
+"'And suppose I die of hunger?'
+
+"'Then we are not responsible for that.'
+
+"'Keep your wine and I will keep my money.'
+
+"'Just as you please,' laughed Vampa, and went away.
+
+"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."
+
+"Yet I cannot understand why they should have wanted to torture you so.
+It must have been an act of revenge," said Carmen.
+
+"You are mistaken," replied Larsagny, "I fear no one and every one
+esteems me; I--"
+
+"One moment," interrupted Carmen, as she looked fixedly at the banker.
+"Why did you get frightened at the _soiree_ recently, when the servant
+announced the Vicomte of Monte-Cristo? I thought you feared no one,
+baron?"
+
+Larsagny stared at the young girl as if she had been a spectre. Carmen
+continued:
+
+"I have not finished yet. In the evening I stood on the terrace and
+heard these words:
+
+"'Monsieur de Larsagny, take care you do not learn my name too soon.'"
+
+"Ah, you are spying on me," cried Larsagny angrily; "have a care or--"
+
+"I do not fear you," said Carmen, calmly; "I will be the first to urge
+your punishment, if some suspicious circumstance should arise and--"
+
+"Be silent, wretched creature!" cried Larsagny angrily, "be silent,
+or--"
+
+He grasped a knife and rushed upon Carmen. The latter stared at him in
+such a way that he dropped the weapon and stammered:
+
+"Carmen, you will drive me crazy!"
+
+At this moment the door opened, and the servant brought in a card which
+he handed to Larsagny.
+
+"The gentleman is waiting in the parlor," he said; "will the baron
+receive him?"
+
+Before Larsagny could throw a look at the card, Carmen had grasped it.
+
+"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:
+
+"Signor Fagiano has no doubt come to tell the baron his name. Good luck
+to him!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXVIII
+
+RECOLLECTIONS
+
+
+Signor Fagiano stood in the beautiful parlor, and a malicious smile
+played about his lips.
+
+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:
+
+"Monsieur de Larsagny, I know your past."
+
+Larsagny had uttered a cry of terror.
+
+"If I am to remain silent," Fagiano had added, "I must have money."
+
+"But who are you?"
+
+Whereupon the answer had come:
+
+"Take care that you do not find out my name too soon."
+
+With inward fear the banker approached the Italian to-day.
+
+"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."
+
+"Call your servants, Monsieur de Larsagny. I have no fear of
+publicity," said Fagiano, boldly.
+
+The banker grasped the bell-rope, but let his hand fall again, and
+Fagiano, who noticed this, mockingly observed:
+
+"Why do you hesitate? Would you prefer to finish our interview without
+witnesses?"
+
+"Impudent puppy!" hissed Larsagny.
+
+"Do not get excited! Let us come to the point."
+
+"I have been waiting for that a long time," growled Larsagny; "tell me,
+first of all, who are you?"
+
+Fagiano drew nearer to the banker, and, grinning, said:
+
+"You really do not recognize me?"
+
+"No."
+
+The Italian laughed loudly.
+
+"Then give me two hundred thousand francs," said Fagiano, "and I will
+disappear forever."
+
+"I would be a fool to give an unknown person a single sou."
+
+"You really do not know my name, then?"
+
+"No."
+
+"H'm; but I know yours."
+
+"That isn't a great thing. My name is known on the street and at Court."
+
+"Yes, the name of Larsagny; as Monsieur Danglars you are also known,
+though in a different way."
+
+Larsagny trembled and was about to fall.
+
+"You lie!" he hissed.
+
+"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?"
+
+"Wretch, you will say nothing of the kind," cried 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.
+
+"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."
+
+"You are a fool," said Danglars, pale with rage. "You will never get a
+sou from me."
+
+"Have no fear about that; as soon as I threaten to expose you, you will
+submit; I have some piquant details _in petto_."
+
+"What do you mean by that?"
+
+"Well, I will announce your name at the same time as mine."
+
+"What has that got to do with me?"
+
+"More than you think. Don't you really know me?"
+
+"No."
+
+"So much the worse. But tell me, baron, is Carmen really your daughter?"
+
+"But--who--gives--you--the right--" said Danglars, stammering.
+
+"Next you will deny that you ever had a wife?"
+
+"Leave my wife's name alone."
+
+"Good. Then let us talk of your daughter who is much older and does not
+bear the name of Carmen."
+
+Danglars hid his face in his hands.
+
+"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."
+
+"Ah, now I know who you are," said the banker, springing up. "You are
+Andrea Cavalcanti."
+
+"Right," laughed Fagiano.
+
+"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."
+
+"Yes, I am Benedetto the murderer--Benedetto the criminal. But do you
+know who my father was?"
+
+"Yes, I heard about the scandalous trial; I was not in France at the
+time, but--Go on, you," urged Danglars.
+
+"And do you also know the name of my mother, baron?"
+
+"No."
+
+"Well, then, my mother was--the Baroness Danglars."
+
+"The miserable creature--the wretch!" cried Danglars, hoarsely. "But
+no--you lie, it cannot be so."
+
+"She was my mother," said Benedetto, accenting the word _was_.
+
+"She was? Is she dead?" asked Danglars, softly.
+
+"Yes, I killed her."
+
+"Horrible," groaned Danglars, wringing his hands.
+
+"If you want proofs," continued Benedetto, coldly, "here they are."
+
+He took Anselmo's writing out of his pocket and handed it to the banker.
+
+"Read," he said, indifferently.
+
+"What do you want from me?" murmured Danglars, hoarsely.
+
+"First, money, and then let us talk further."
+
+"You shall have what you want," replied Danglars.
+
+"Good; now comes the second point."
+
+"Do not torture me any longer," said Danglars.
+
+"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?"
+
+"Yes; but I fear our attempts will be fruitless."
+
+"Fruitless? I swear to you that we shall be successful."
+
+"But he is a supernatural man. You might as well attack God."
+
+"And yet he has an Achilles heel! Once more, will you help me?"
+
+"Yes; but I do not understand you."
+
+"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."
+
+"Now I understand you," said Danglars.
+
+"In the first place, you must give me money, and then wait until I call
+you."
+
+"And you guarantee that the grief will kill him?"
+
+"Yes, I guarantee it."
+
+"Then I am yours."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXIX
+
+DISAPPEARED
+
+
+Let us return to the Vicomte Spero.
+
+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.
+
+A slight moan from the invalid caused Mamma Caraman to bend over her.
+
+"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."
+
+Jane moaned louder and felt her heart with her hand.
+
+"Be still, my dear," whispered Mamma Caraman. She poured a few drops of
+liquor into a cup and told the girl to drink it.
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+In less than five minutes the vicomte appeared.
+
+"Is she worse?" he anxiously asked.
+
+"Yes, she is feverish again, and I thought it might be better to send
+for a physician."
+
+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.
+
+"She is sleeping," said Mamma Caraman, "I am sorry now that I called
+you."
+
+"On the contrary I am glad I came. I will take your place and you can
+sleep a little."
+
+"Not for the world," cried Mamma Caraman. "I am not tired at all."
+
+"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."
+
+Mamma Caraman thereupon laid herself upon a sofa, and the next minute
+she was fast asleep.
+
+An hour later the young girl opened her eyes and looked about her.
+
+"Where am I?" she murmured.
+
+"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?"
+
+The young girl listened as if in a dream, and unconsciously looked at
+the vicomte with sparkling eyes.
+
+"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."
+
+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:
+
+"Jane, I love you--love you dearly; Jane, my darling, tell me only once
+that you love me!"
+
+Jane looked silently at him and then buried her face in her hands,
+faintly murmuring:
+
+"Yes, Spero, I love you."
+
+"Thanks, my darling, for that word, and now I will leave you.
+Good-night, Jane--my Jane--oh, how I love you!"
+
+The vicomte left the room and Jane closed her tired eyes.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+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.
+
+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-Elysees, the
+former clown had followed them as far as the Rue Montaigne. Bobichel
+then went home.
+
+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.
+
+The crazy woman sometimes became terribly excited. In such moments she
+sprang out of the bed, and hiding behind the door silently whined:
+
+"Spare me--I am your mother!"
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+Anselmo now began to groan. Fanfaro bent over the invalid, and thought
+he heard the words:
+
+"My daughter--my poor child--ah, is she dead?"
+
+"Who is dead?" asked Fanfaro.
+
+"Ah, she plunged into the water--she is drowned," groaned Anselmo.
+
+Fanfaro could not believe his ears. Did the sick man imagine that the
+gray-haired woman was his daughter?
+
+"Have you a daughter?" he asked.
+
+"Yes, my Jane--my darling."
+
+Just then the door opened, and Bobichel entered.
+
+"Well?" cried Fanfaro expectantly.
+
+"Ah, Fanfaro, a great misfortune!"
+
+"A misfortune? Does it concern the vicomte?"
+
+"Yes; he has disappeared."
+
+"But, Bobichel, why should that be a misfortune? Perhaps he went on a
+short journey."
+
+"No, both Coucou and Madame Caraman maintain that his disappearance is a
+misfortune."
+
+"Tell me all that has happened."
+
+"Then listen. On the evening that the vicomte came back from the
+_soiree_, he did not go home directly, but first took an opportunity to
+rescue a wounded girl."
+
+"A wounded girl?" repeated Fanfaro.
+
+"Yes, a young girl who had been shot in the breast. She was brought by
+the vicomte to his house."
+
+"I can hardly believe it," muttered Fanfaro.
+
+"Madame Caraman and Coucou are in the corridor; they will confirm my
+statement."
+
+"Bring them in."
+
+The next minute the Zouave and Caraman were in the room.
+
+"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.
+
+"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--"
+
+"What bothers me most," interrupted Coucou, "is the fact that the
+vicomte took his pistols along."
+
+Fanfaro became pensive.
+
+"Have you any idea how the young girl was wounded?" he asked after a
+pause, turning to Madame Caraman.
+
+"No, but Monsieur Sabran knows."
+
+"The painter? I shall go to him directly."
+
+"We have been to his house already, but he has not been home since this
+morning."
+
+"That is bad," murmured Fanfaro. "Do you know the lady's name?"
+
+"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.
+
+"Dear Mademoiselle Jane," Fanfaro read, and, penetrated by a
+recollection, he repeated aloud:
+
+"Jane--Mademoiselle Jane--if it is--but no--it can't be possible--"
+
+A loud cry from the invalid's couch made him pause. Anselmo had gotten
+up, and, gazing at Fanfaro, stammeringly repeated:
+
+"Jane--my Jane."
+
+"Do you know the young lady?" cried Fanfaro.
+
+"Certainly. Then it wasn't she whom I rescued from the river?"
+
+"No; but for God's sake calm yourself," said Fanfaro, as he saw Anselmo
+make a motion to spring out of bed.
+
+"I could have imagined that the return of that scoundrel, Benedetto,
+would bring me misfortune!" cried Anselmo, with flaming eyes.
+
+"Benedetto--who speaks of Benedetto?" asked a hoarse voice.
+
+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.
+
+"Merciful God, where does she come from?" he groaned in terror. "Has the
+grave given up its dead?"
+
+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:
+
+"The galley-slave--he--Toulon--the Bagnio--oh! 'tis he!"
+
+Anselmo trembled, and could not turn his eyes away from the old lady,
+who now wildly called:
+
+"Benedetto! Who mentioned his name? I want to know it!"
+
+"What can this mean?" whispered Fanfaro, shuddering.
+
+"I will acknowledge everything," stammered Anselmo, and hanging his head
+down he told how he had been a galley-slave at Toulon.
+
+"Who wounded you?" he then asked, turning to the crazy woman.
+
+"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!"
+
+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:
+
+"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!"
+
+She left the room and those who had remained behind looked confusedly at
+one another.
+
+"I do not understand everything," said Anselmo, 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."
+
+"Do you know it positively?" asked Fanfaro uneasily.
+
+Anselmo then related all he knew, and only kept silent with regard to
+the fact of his being Jane's father.
+
+Fanfaro listened attentively to his words, and then said:
+
+"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--"
+
+"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!"
+
+"Let us hope for the best," said Fanfaro, earnestly; "forward then with
+God for Monte-Cristo and his son!"
+
+"And for my Jane," muttered Anselmo to himself. "God in heaven take my
+life, but save hers!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XL
+
+A CONFESSION
+
+
+Gontram was in love; night and day he only thought of Carmen.
+
+"Either she or no one," he said to himself.
+
+One morning, as he was returning home from a visit, the janitor
+addressed him.
+
+"Monsieur Sabran," he said, "I have something to tell you."
+
+"Well, what is it?" asked Gontram, expectantly.
+
+"H'm, Monsieur Sabran, it is about a lady," murmured the man.
+
+"A lady? Which lady?"
+
+"I do not know her, and my discretion did not permit me to ask her."
+
+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.
+
+"Monsieur Alain, won't you tell me what the lady wanted of me?" asked
+the painter.
+
+"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."
+
+"Where is the letter?"
+
+"Here, Monsieur Sabran," said the janitor, taking a perfumed note from
+his pocket and handing it to the painter.
+
+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:
+
+
+     "MONSIEUR GONTRAM--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.
+
+                                                        "CARMEN."
+
+
+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?
+
+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.
+
+"The lady is waiting," she said.
+
+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.
+
+"Thank you," she said, offering her hand to the painter. "I hardly dared
+to hope you would come."
+
+"You sent for me, and I have come," replied Gontram.
+
+"Please sit down and listen to me."
+
+Gontram took a seat next to Carmen.
+
+"Monsieur Gontram, do you love me?" she suddenly asked.
+
+Gontram trembled.
+
+"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--"
+
+"Oh, keep still--keep still!"
+
+"But, Mademoiselle Carmen," said Gontram, "you know you can rely on me!"
+
+For a time they were both silent.
+
+"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?"
+
+"Yes!" cried Gontram.
+
+"And yet," said Carmen, slowly, "you postponed asking Monsieur de
+Larsagny for my hand."
+
+"I did not dare--"
+
+"Thank God that you did not do it," cried Carmen, breathing more freely.
+"No, Gontram, I can never--never be your wife!"
+
+Gontram sprang up.
+
+"Impossible, Carmen!" he cried, passionately. "Tell me that you are
+joking!"
+
+"No, Gontram, I am not joking," said Carmen, earnestly. "I can never
+become your wife. Only an honest girl has the right to put her hand in
+yours."
+
+"Explain yourself more clearly," said Gontram, deadly pale.
+
+"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."
+
+Carmen sank exhausted in a chair and burst into tears.
+
+"Carmen, why do you cry?"
+
+"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!"
+
+Gontram uttered a wild cry, and, beating his face with his hands, he
+gasped for air; the shot had struck him to the heart.
+
+"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."
+
+Carmen had fallen to the floor. Clutching Gontram's knee she wept
+bitterly.
+
+Gontram felt deep pity for her. He placed his hand on her hair, and
+gently said:
+
+"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!"
+
+"You do not curse me? Do not cast me off?" asked Carmen, in surprise.
+
+"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."
+
+Carmen's tears still poured down. Gontram bent over her and tenderly
+raised her up.
+
+"Carmen," he earnestly said, "tell me, what can I do for you?"
+
+Carmen raised her eyes, which were still full of tears, and tenderly
+whispered to the young man:
+
+"How good you are! Do you love the Vicomte of Monte-Cristo?" she
+suddenly asked.
+
+"I love and esteem him. But what makes you speak of the vicomte?"
+
+"Because danger threatens him, and I want you to warn him."
+
+"What is the nature of the danger?" asked Gontram.
+
+"Powerful enemies are united against him, and if we are not more prudent
+they will crush both him and us."
+
+"Enemies! Who could be an enemy of Spero?"
+
+"One of the enemies is Monsieur de Larsagny!"
+
+"And the other?"
+
+"Have you noticed the Count of Vellini's secretary?"
+
+"Signor Fagiano? Yes, I know him."
+
+"Fagiano is not his real name."
+
+"Do you know it?"
+
+"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
+_soiree_ the other evening, Monsieur de Larsagny became pale as death,
+his eyes stared at the young man as if he had been a spectre, and,
+under pretence of seeking a cooler spot, he hurriedly left the room."
+
+"Yes, I remember," said Gontram.
+
+"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:
+
+"'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.'
+
+"'Here is what I promised you,' replied Larsagny.
+
+"I heard the crumpling of bank-notes. For a while all was still, and
+then Monsieur de Larsagny said:
+
+"'What do you intend to do now?'
+
+"'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.'
+
+"'But be careful, the slightest haste might ruin us.'
+
+"'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.'
+
+"'Then I am satisfied. Ah, if he only suffers for one hour the tortures
+his father made me undergo,' hissed Larsagny.
+
+"'You shall be satisfied. I have also a debt to settle with him.'
+
+"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."
+
+"I thank you, Carmen," cried Gontram; "Spero is a friend, a brother, and
+I would gladly offer up my life to save his."
+
+"Of whom could Fagiano have spoken when he said: 'She is in my power?'"
+asked Carmen.
+
+"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.
+
+"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!"
+
+"Oh, Gontram, I do not deserve so much kindness," sobbed Carmen.
+
+"Now good-by," said Gontram. "You shall soon hear from me."
+
+A last kiss and they separated.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLI
+
+ON THE TRAIL
+
+
+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.
+
+The footman opened it. When asked if the vicomte was at home, he said he
+had gone out.
+
+"Gone out? Will he soon return?" asked Gontram.
+
+"We do not know."
+
+"H'm! Can I speak to Madame Caraman?"
+
+"She is also out."
+
+"And the Zouave Coucou?"
+
+"He has gone out, too; and none of them has yet returned."
+
+Just then a carriage rolled up, and Madame Caraman and Coucou got out,
+followed by Fanfaro and Anselmo.
+
+"Ah, here is Monsieur Gontram," cried Madame Caraman, joyfully, as she
+caught sight of the painter.
+
+"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 Monte-Cristo and his son. I fear all is not right with our
+friends."
+
+"Why not? What has happened?" asked Gontram.
+
+"You shall soon find out, but first let us go inside."
+
+With these words Fanfaro preceded the others and entered the vestibule.
+The footman ran to him and anxiously cried:
+
+"Monsieur Fanfaro, the vicomte is not at home."
+
+"I know it."
+
+Turning to Coucou, he said:
+
+"Can you remember when the vicomte left the house?"
+
+"Last night."
+
+"About what time?"
+
+"I do not know, I was asleep."
+
+"And I too," sobbed Madame Caraman.
+
+"Coucou, please tell the footman to come here."
+
+The footman came immediately.
+
+"When did Vicomte Spero leave the house?" asked Fanfaro, turning to the
+man.
+
+"I--I--do not know," stammered the footman.
+
+"You do not know when the vicomte went out?"
+
+"I--that is--well, the vicomte did leave the house, but he returned
+within an hour."
+
+"Then he must be in the house?" they all repeated.
+
+"I do not know. He has not left it."
+
+"How do you know?" asked Coucou. "The vicomte might have gone out by way
+of the garden."
+
+"That is not possible," declared the footman. "I locked the gate myself
+yesterday while the vicomte was in his study."
+
+"We must search every nook and corner," said Gontram.
+
+"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."
+
+Coucou disappeared, but soon returned, accompanied by Bobichel.
+
+"I am glad you've come, Bobichel," exclaimed Fanfaro. "We have some fine
+detective work to do here, and that was always your hobby."
+
+"What is it?" asked Bobichel.
+
+Fanfaro told him the whole story in a few words.
+
+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.
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+Suddenly Fanfaro's eye rested on a small white spot in the blue,
+decorated wall. Drawing near to the spot, he saw that a small piece of
+white silk had been pressed in an almost imperceptible crack.
+
+"Bobichel, your knife," cried Fanfaro, breathlessly.
+
+"Master," said Bobichel, modestly, "there is a secret door there, and
+they generally have a spring attached to them."
+
+"You are right," replied Fanfaro, "but how discover the spring?"
+
+"I think," remarked Gontram, "that the spring is under one of the small
+blue buttons with which the wall is decorated. Let us search."
+
+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.
+
+"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."
+
+"So be it," cried Fanfaro, "and then, in Heaven's name, forward!"
+
+Gontram had in the meanwhile sent a note with Coucou to Carmen.
+
+Each one of the three carried a three-armed bronze lamp, and the light
+they gave forth illuminated the marble steps of a staircase.
+
+Gontram was the first to reach the top stair. At the 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.
+
+"We cannot return," said Fanfaro finally, "therefore forward with God's
+help."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLII
+
+THE TRAP
+
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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 before him. Without hesitating, he walked down
+the marble staircase; the door closed behind him, and he found himself
+on strange ground.
+
+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.
+
+A room furnished in dark red silk lay before the vicomte.
+
+On a black marble table Spero espied an open letter.
+
+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 _deus ex machina_--as
+Edmond Dantes, Count of Monte-Cristo and Lord Wilmore.
+
+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:
+
+
+     "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."
+
+
+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.
+
+Was the pale man with the deep blue rings about his eyes the
+twenty-one-year-old son of the great count?
+
+"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!"
+
+He pulled out his two pistols and examined them, and with a soft, tender
+"Father, help me," he left the secret chamber.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLIII
+
+THE PATH OF THORNS
+
+
+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."
+
+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.
+
+"I wonder whether he will come," he muttered to himself.
+
+At this moment a slight noise was heard outside. A knock came at the
+door.
+
+"Who's there?" asked the man roughly.
+
+"Does a man named Malvernet live here?" came back in reply.
+
+"Yes. Come right in."
+
+Spero entered, his clothes dripping wet, and blue-black hair hanging
+over his forehead.
+
+"My name is Malvernet," said the other sharply; "what do you wish?"
+
+"Do you know me?" he asked in a firm tone.
+
+"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."
+
+"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."
+
+A mocking laugh came from the man's lips.
+
+"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."
+
+"Robbers entered my house last night and robbed me of the dearest jewel
+I possess--a young girl whom I love."
+
+"What's her name?"
+
+"Jane! You promised to obey my orders, and I only ask you to lead me to
+Jane."
+
+"And if I refuse?"
+
+"Then I will kill you."
+
+"Ha! ha! ha!" laughed the man, "that is well said."
+
+"Do you refuse to obey me?"
+
+"I did not say that. You need me, while I can get along without you. The
+game is therefore unequal."
+
+"You are right, and I beg you to forgive me."
+
+"Well then, vicomte, what do you command?"
+
+"Then you really wish to help me?"
+
+"Follow me," said Benedetto (for he was the man), as he opened a door.
+
+"Anywhere," cried Spero, "if I can only find Jane again."
+
+"I will go on in advance, and follow me closely, for the night is pitch
+dark and we might lose each other."
+
+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?
+
+For a time the criminal and his company walked on in silence.
+
+Suddenly it appeared to Spero as if the end of the way had been reached,
+and, pausing, he asked:
+
+"Where are we?"
+
+"On the banks of the Seine; in a few minutes we will be at the place."
+
+"My poor Jane," murmured Spero, "how terrible it is to look for you in
+this deserted quarter."
+
+"Are you afraid?" asked Benedetto mockingly.
+
+Spero did not answer the impudent question.
+
+"Go on," he coldly said.
+
+Benedetto turned into a narrow path. Suddenly he stopped short and said:
+
+"Here we are!"
+
+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.
+
+"Is this really the house?" asked the vicomte, unconsciously shuddering.
+
+"Yes."
+
+"It looks like a low den, and who guarantees me that I am not being led
+into a trap?"
+
+"Vicomte of Monte-Cristo," replied Benedetto, "if I desired to murder
+you I could have done so long ago."
+
+"You are right."
+
+Just then coarse laughter and the noise of a falling body came from the
+inside of the house.
+
+"Let us go into the house," cried Spero excitedly. "God knows what may
+be going on there."
+
+Benedetto shoved his arm under the vicomte's and opening the door said:
+
+"You will find more here than will please you."
+
+They both entered a dark corridor now, the door fell back in the lock
+and Spero asked:
+
+"Where are we?"
+
+"On the spot," mockingly said Benedetto.
+
+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:
+
+"The wretch has ensnared me in a trap."
+
+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!
+
+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.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLIV
+
+THE PASHA
+
+
+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.
+
+The Zouave entered a restaurant opposite, ordered a bottle of wine, and
+began a conversation with the waiter.
+
+"What is going on to-day in the Larsagny palace?" he asked.
+
+"Oh, the banker is giving a great ball," said the waiter.
+
+"He is very rich, I suppose."
+
+"Enormously so."
+
+At this moment a soldier entered the restaurant and, approaching the
+waiter, asked:
+
+"Can you not tell me, good friend, where Monsieur de Larsagny lives?"
+
+"About a hundred feet away in that brilliantly illuminated house--you
+cannot miss it."
+
+"Thanks," said the soldier. As he was about to turn away, a well-known
+voice cried to him:
+
+"Well, Galoret, what do the dear Bedouins do now?"
+
+"Hello, Coucou--where do you hail from?" cried the soldier, joyously.
+
+"Rather tell me where you come from?"
+
+"Ah, I have been only three days in Paris."
+
+"What business have you in the Larsagny palace?" he asked.
+
+"Oh, I must deliver a letter."
+
+"So must I; from whom, if I may ask?"
+
+"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--"
+
+"Does he know the banker?" interrupted Coucou.
+
+"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."
+
+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:
+
+"Look at those fools. How they stare at you. One would think they had
+never seen a Chasseur d'Afrique."
+
+"Impertinent scoundrels," growled Galoret, and, turning to the
+gentlemen, he cried in an angry tone of voice:
+
+"You boobies, have you looked at my uniform long enough?"
+
+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.
+
+Policemen now interfered. Galoret and two others with bloody heads were
+locked up, and then only did the chasseur remember his errand.
+
+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."
+
+"Now I can enter the Larsagny palace," he said to himself; "as the pasha
+they will admit me."
+
+Coucou jumped into a carriage and told the coachman to drive to the Rue
+de Pelletier.
+
+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:
+
+"Rue de Rivoli, Palais Larsagny!"
+
+The horses started off, the carriage rolled along, and the Bedouin, in
+whose turban a ruby glittered, muttered to himself:
+
+"One can get through the world with cheek!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLV
+
+HOW CARMEN KEEPS HER WORD
+
+
+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:
+
+"What does this mean, Carmen? Our guests will soon be here, and you are
+not yet dressed."
+
+"Our guests?" repeated Carmen, in amazement.
+
+"Yes. Have you forgotten that the ball for which you yourself sent out
+invitations ten days ago, takes place to-night?"
+
+"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."
+
+"But, Carmen, what shall we do if you do not appear?"
+
+"That is not my affair," replied Carmen, laconically.
+
+The banker ran his hands through his hair in despair.
+
+"Carmen, be reasonable," he implored, as he tried to take her hand.
+
+"Don't touch me," said Carmen.
+
+Larsagny bit his lips.
+
+"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."
+
+Carmen became pensive. Perhaps it might be better if she took part in
+the ball; she might hear something of interest to Gontram.
+
+"Well, if you desire it, I will appear, but under one condition," she
+said, coldly.
+
+"Name it."
+
+"I demand that you shall not present me to any one as your daughter."
+
+"But what shall I say?"
+
+"Anything else. And now go, I must make my toilet."
+
+"Carmen, I have one more favor to ask of you."
+
+"Well?"
+
+"I must leave the house about twelve o'clock for one or more hours--"
+
+"He lies," thought Carmen to herself.
+
+"To do this," continued Larsagny, "I must pretend some sudden sickness.
+You will have me brought to my room, and then--"
+
+"Since when are the bankers and the money-brokers at night in their
+offices?" asked Carmen.
+
+"But--"
+
+"Do you mean to tell me that you have business on the Bourse at
+midnight?"
+
+"Carmen, I swear to you that--"
+
+"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."
+
+Larsagny trembled, but he tried to smile, and with a hasty _au revoir_
+he went away.
+
+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.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The greatest names of the empire had been announced by the lackeys.
+
+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.
+
+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:
+
+"Pretty woman."
+
+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.
+
+"Ah, pretty, pretty," repeated the Mussulman, and the banker, his face
+lighted up with joy, said:
+
+"May I introduce her?"
+
+Mohammed nodded.
+
+Carmen bowed politely when the introduction was made, and said nothing.
+Omar offered her his arm, and murmured as he pointed to some pictures.
+
+"Allah il Allah. I come from the painter Gontram. Mohammed resoul il
+Allah."
+
+"The pasha evidently wishes you to show him the picture-gallery," said
+Larsagny.
+
+"Then come," said the young girl to the Oriental.
+
+As soon as Omar was alone with his companion, he whispered:
+
+"Pardon me, I have to speak to you."
+
+"Who are you?" asked Carmen.
+
+"A friend, a former Zouave in the service of the Count of Monte-Cristo."
+
+"Well, what have you?"
+
+"A note from the painter Gontram."
+
+"Give it to me--quickly."
+
+Coucou drew the letter from the folds of his bernouse and gave it to the
+young girl. It read as follows:
+
+
+     "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.
+
+                                           "In great haste,
+
+                                                     "G. S."
+
+
+Carmen breathed more freely after she had read the lines.
+
+"Well?" said the Zouave, expectantly.
+
+"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?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"If I have occasion to go there will I be admitted?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+At this moment a servant rushed into the parlor and exclaimed:
+
+"Mademoiselle, Monsieur de Larsagny has suddenly become ill."
+
+"I shall come soon," said Carmen, coldly, and nodding to Coucou, she
+went away.
+
+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.
+
+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:
+
+
+     "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.
+
+                                                              "C."
+
+
+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.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLVI
+
+IN COURBEVOIE
+
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+Spero breathed more freely, and, beside himself, he called:
+
+"Jane! Jane! come to me!"
+
+At the rear of the hall a door opened, and Spero recognized in a man who
+crossed the threshold--Monsieur de Larsagny.
+
+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:
+
+"Jane, my darling, do you not know me? I am--Monte-Cristo."
+
+"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.
+
+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.
+
+Jane still lay motionless in Spero's arms. The vicomte called
+despairingly for help, but none came.
+
+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 Abbe Faria had taught Edmond
+Dantes how to make. Putting the vial to Jane's lips, he poured a few
+drops down her throat.
+
+The effect was instantaneous. Jane uttered a deep sigh, and looked at
+the young man with returning consciousness.
+
+"Spero!" she cried. "You here in this terrible place? Oh, go--go away;
+you must not stay here."
+
+"Jane, I have come to take you with me."
+
+"No!--oh, no! I am accursed! I must not accompany you!" sobbed the young
+girl.
+
+"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!"
+
+"Not for any price," groaned Jane. "Go--leave this place, and let me
+die! I cannot live any longer--the shame kills me."
+
+"Jane, do not speak so. Jane, my Jane, do you really refuse to accompany
+me?"
+
+"God forgive me if I do wrong; I cannot leave you," she murmured, as she
+threw herself into the young man's arms.
+
+But at this moment the coarse songs sounded again, and a man entered the
+hall. It was Benedetto!
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLVII
+
+THE DEVOTED
+
+
+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.
+
+"What is the meaning of this?" she asked. "I think that we have more
+serious things to think of than masquerading."
+
+"Come, do not speak before you know everything," replied the Zouave; and
+in a few words he told her the story of his disguise.
+
+"Where can Monsieur Sabran be?" asked Madame Caraman.
+
+"What!" exclaimed Coucou, "where is he then?"
+
+"I haven't seen him, nor Fanfaro, nor Bobichel since."
+
+"Impossible! Are they still in Jane's room?"
+
+"Perhaps."
+
+"I cannot understand it, and--"
+
+A hollow noise caused Coucou to keep silent. He and Madame Caraman
+looked at each other in terror.
+
+"What can that be?" asked Madame Caraman.
+
+Before Coucou could answer the question, the noise was repeated.
+
+"The noise comes from the right side," said Coucou, who had been
+listening; "let us hurry to Gontram and Fanfaro, and call their
+attention to it."
+
+Mamma Caraman nodded, and they both went to Jane's room.
+
+It was empty!
+
+"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."
+
+"What are you going to do?"
+
+"Break down the house if necessary," said Coucou, beginning to trample
+upon the floor.
+
+"But you are ruining the carpet!" cried Mamma Caraman.
+
+The sound of the door-bell at this minute prevented Coucou from
+replying. In front of the door stood Carmen.
+
+"Thank Heaven you have come, mademoiselle."
+
+"You haven't found Gontram yet?"
+
+"No."
+
+"Monsieur Gontram and his comrades are in subterranean chambers in this
+house."
+
+"Knock at the walls, Coucou," said Madame Caraman, "and then we can wait
+for an answer."
+
+Coucou knocked three times with a hammer against the wall. At the end of
+the second knock came back in answer twenty-five.
+
+"What does that mean?" asked Coucou, in affright.
+
+"I know," cried Carmen; "twenty-five knocks signify the letters of the
+alphabet!"
+
+"Then we must answer to show that we understand the language," said
+Madame Caraman. "Coucou--quick--twenty-five knocks."
+
+The Zouave did as he was told, and the answer came back in one knock
+which meant "yes."
+
+Nine further knocks followed.
+
+"I," said Carmen.
+
+Nineteen knocks.
+
+"S," whispered Carmen.
+
+Seven knocks.
+
+"G."
+
+Ten knocks.
+
+"J."
+
+Two knocks.
+
+"B."
+
+Twenty knocks.
+
+"T."
+
+Carmen now read the meaning of this:
+
+"There is an iron door under the wall decoration."
+
+Coucou soon found the secret door.
+
+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.
+
+"In Courbevoie!" cried Gontram. "How shall we find Spero there?"
+
+"I know the house," said Carmen; "it belongs to the banker, and I
+believe we shall find the vicomte there."
+
+"May God grant it."
+
+Ten minutes later they were all on the road to Courbevoie.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLVIII
+
+UNITED IN DEATH
+
+
+When Benedetto entered the hall he was neither Malvernet, Cavalcanti or
+Fagiano. He was simply Benedetto.
+
+"Whoever you are," cried the vicomte, "I implore you to help me bring
+this poor child out of here."
+
+"Vicomte," replied Benedetto, coldly, "I will not help you, and you'll
+not bring this woman away from here."
+
+"I will shoot you down like a dog," said Spero, contemptuously.
+
+With these words he pulled out a pistol and held it toward Benedetto.
+
+"You wish to commit murder, vicomte!"
+
+"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--"
+
+"The poor innocent child," interrupted the ex-convict. "You told me it
+was brought here against its will!"
+
+"Scoundrel, you lie!" cried Spero, angrily.
+
+Benedetto laughed coarsely.
+
+"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?"
+
+"Mercy," cried Jane, throwing herself at Benedetto's feet. "Mercy!"
+
+"Jane Zild, shall I tell the vicomte who your father was?"
+
+"My father?" stammered Jane, confused.
+
+"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."
+
+"Miserable scoundrel," cried Spero, "you lie! If you have weapons, let
+us fight. Only one of us dare leave this room alive."
+
+"Just my idea," said Benedetto, as he took two swords from under his
+cloak. "Choose, and now _vogue ma galere_."
+
+"The motto is no doubt derived from your past," said Spero.
+
+"You shall pay for that, boy," hissed Benedetto as he placed himself in
+position.
+
+A hot struggle ensued, and Benedetto was finally driven against the
+wall.
+
+"Wretch!" exclaimed Spero, "your life is in my hands; beg for mercy, or
+I shall stab you through the heart."
+
+"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!"
+
+"Then die," replied Spero, and with a quick movement he knocked
+Benedetto's sword out of his hand and made a lunge at him!
+
+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.
+
+How had this horrible thing happened?
+
+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!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The moment Spero breathed his last, loud cries were heard throughout the
+house, and many voices called Spero's name.
+
+Benedetto grew pale. How could he save himself? Only one way was left to
+him, and he hesitated to carry it out.
+
+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!"
+
+Fanfaro, Gontram, Carmen, Bobichel and Coucou now hurried into the hall.
+Benedetto looked at them with flaming eye, and mockingly cried:
+
+"You are too late! I have killed Monte-Cristo's son!"
+
+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:
+
+"Too late! Too late! Oh, poor, poor father!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLIX
+
+THE SPECTRE
+
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+Anselmo had really lost courage. He had the greatest 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.
+
+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:
+
+"Benedetto--my son! Benedetto--wait for me!"
+
+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.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+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:
+
+"Jane!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER L
+
+
+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.
+
+They were all dead--Danglars, Villefort, Mondego, Caderousse and
+Benedetto--but Monte-Cristo was alive to close the eyes of his dearly
+beloved son.
+
+Mockery of fate! The two men who watched the corpses waited with anxiety
+for the moment when the Count of Monte-Cristo should enter.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+The third day dawned, and Gontram and Fanfaro looked anxiously at each
+other. To-day the count must come.
+
+Toward evening the door was suddenly opened. 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.
+
+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.
+
+
+
+
+EPILOGUE
+
+THE ABBE DANTES
+
+
+Fifty years ago a solitary man stood on a lonely rock.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+Then the man stood erect; he glanced wildly around him toward all the
+four quarters of the globe, and cried aloud:
+
+"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."
+
+About whom was this solitary man speaking? He did not yet know, but he
+was soon to discover it.
+
+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.
+
+Then he was suddenly arrested. He was accused of transmitting letters to
+the Emperor Napoleon, then a prisoner on the Island of Elba.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+Here he remained fourteen long years, his only companion the Abbe Faria,
+who was deemed to be insane. The abbe 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.
+
+He then left the island to accomplish the revenge he had sworn.
+
+He found that his father had died of starvation and that Mercedes had
+married another. Who was this other one?
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+His worst enemy was Villefort, who had now become the procureur du roi
+at Paris.
+
+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?
+
+Danglars was his first victim. He ruined him and made him suffer the
+pangs of hunger which Edmond's father had suffered.
+
+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.
+
+He looked up Mondego's past history. The latter had 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:
+
+"Look at me well, Fernand, and you will understand it all. I am Edmond
+Dantes."
+
+Then De Morcerf fled, and an hour afterward blew out his brains.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+It was ten years since Monte-Cristo, on that fearful night, bore off
+the corpse of his only son.
+
+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.
+
+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 Abbe of Monte-Cristo.
+
+All these years Monte-Cristo had lived on herbs and roots. He had sworn
+never to touch money again while he lived.
+
+One night Monte-Cristo entered the subterranean cave where the marble
+sarcophagus of his son was:
+
+"Spero," he earnestly said, "is it time?"
+
+A long silence ensued. Then--was it a reality?--Spero's lips appeared to
+move and utter the word:
+
+"Come."
+
+"I thought so," muttered the Count. "I shall come, my child, as soon as
+my affairs are settled."
+
+He took a package from his pocket, and unfolding it read it aloud:
+
+
+                        "MY LAST WILL AND TESTAMENT
+
+     "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, 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.
+
+     "Will the money be found?
+
+     "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.
+
+                                              "THE ABBE DANTES."
+
+        "February 25th, 1865."
+
+
+Below this signature was a curious design. Monte-Cristo examined it.
+
+"Ah, Faria!" he exclaimed, "may your money fall into better hands than
+mine!"
+
+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.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+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?
+
+
+THE END
+
+
+
+***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE SON OF MONTE-CRISTO, VOLUME II
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