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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Son of Monte Cristo, by Jules Lermina
+
+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
+
+Author: Jules Lermina
+
+Release Date: August 8, 2008 [EBook #26216]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE SON OF MONTE CRISTO ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Sigal Alon, Hanna Burdon, Fox in the Stars and
+the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at
+https://www.pgdp.net
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+      THE
+
+      SON OF MONTE-CRISTO.
+
+      SEQUEL TO
+
+      THE WIFE OF MONTE-CRISTO,
+
+      AND END OF THE CONTINUATION TO
+
+      ALEXANDER DUMAS' CELEBRATED NOVEL OF
+
+      "THE COUNT OF MONTE-CRISTO."
+
+
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"The Son of Monte-Cristo" stands at the head of all exciting and
+absorbing novels. It is the sequel to "The Wife of Monte-Cristo," and
+the end of the continuation of Alexander Dumas' phenomenal romance of
+"The Count of Monte-Cristo." Like its renowned predecessors, it
+absolutely swarms with thrilling and dramatic incidents and adventures,
+everything being fresh, original and delightful. The spell of
+fascination is cast over the reader in the opening chapter and remains
+unbroken to the end. It deals chiefly with the astounding career of
+Esperance, Monte-Cristo's son, whose heroic devotion to Jane Zeld is one
+of the most touching and romantic love stories ever written. The scenes
+in Algeria have a wild charm, especially the abduction of Esperance and
+his struggle with the Sultan on the oasis in the desert. Haydée's
+experience in the slave mart at Constantinople is particularly stirring
+and realistic, while the episodes in which the Count of Monte-Cristo
+figures are exceedingly graphic. The entire novel is powerful and
+interesting in the extreme. That it will be read by all who have read
+"The Count of Monte-Cristo" and will delight them is certain.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+NEW YORK:
+
+WM. L. ALLISON COMPANY,
+
+PUBLISHERS.
+
+
+COPYRIGHT.--1884.
+
+T. B. PETERSON & BROTHERS.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+_"The Son of Monte-Cristo," the sequel to "The Wife of Monte-Cristo,"
+and end of the continuation of Dumas' masterwork, "The Count of
+Monte-Cristo," is in all respects a great novel. Romantic in the highest
+degree, powerful in the widest sense of the term and absorbingly
+interesting, it is a work absolutely without parallel at the present
+day. Every chapter has a strong and stirring feature of its own, while
+all the legions of intensely thrilling incidents are as original and
+surprising as they are strong. The hero is Esperance, the son of the
+Count of Monte-Cristo, who is followed from boyhood to the close of his
+wonderful and unprecedented career. His varied and remarkable adventures
+form a succession of amazing episodes never equalled in fiction, while
+his love for the unfortunate Jane Zeld and the strange complications to
+which it gives rise are depicted in the most fascinating fashion. The
+Count of Monte-Cristo and Haydée also have thrilling adventures, and
+Mercédès, Benedetto, Sanselme and Danglars, together with Fanfar, again
+appear. The hosts of admirers of "The Count of Monte-Cristo" should read
+"The Son of Monte-Cristo," as well as all who relish a novel of rare
+merit. They will certainly be delighted with it._
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+_"The Son of Monte-Cristo" stands at the head of all exciting and
+absorbing novels. It is the sequel to "The Wife of Monte-Cristo," and
+the end of the continuation of that phenomenal romance, Alexander Dumas'
+"Count of Monte-Cristo." Like its renowned predecessors, it absolutely
+swarms with thrilling and dramatic incidents and adventures, everything
+being fresh, original and delightful. The spell of fascination is cast
+over the reader in the opening chapter and remains unbroken to the end.
+It deals chiefly with the astounding career of Esperance, Monte-Cristo's
+son, whose heroic devotion to Jane Zeld is one of the most touching and
+romantic love stories ever written. The scenes in Algeria have a wild
+charm, especially the abduction of Esperance and his struggle with the
+Sultan on the oasis in the desert. Haydée's experience in the slave mart
+at Constantinople is particularly stirring and realistic, while the
+episodes in which the Count of Monte-Cristo figures are exceedingly
+graphic. The entire novel is powerful and interesting in the extreme.
+That it will be read by all who have read "The Count of Monte-Cristo"
+and will delight them is certain._
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS.
+
+
+Chapter.                                      Page.
+
+      I. ESPERANCE, THE SON OF MONTE-CRISTO      15
+
+     II. HAYDÉE, THE WIFE OF MONTE-CRISTO        23
+
+    III. THE COUNT OF MONTE-CRISTO               32
+
+     IV. FANFAR'S ADVENTURES.--CAIN              38
+
+      V. WHAT PIERRE KNEW                        40
+
+     VI. FRATERNAL THOUGHTS                      57
+
+    VII. THE VILLAGE                             61
+
+   VIII. THE PAST OF FRANÇOISE                   71
+
+     IX. WHERE THE INVASION PASSES               76
+
+      X. THE HUT AT OUTREMONT                    82
+
+     XI. CHILDREN IN DARKNESS                    87
+
+    XII. THE RISING SUN                          90
+
+   XIII. MISCHIEF                                96
+
+    XIV. TWO PLACES, S. V. P.                   102
+
+     XV. MASTER AND SERVANT                     107
+
+    XVI. WALK IN, GENTLEMEN!                    118
+
+   XVII. ROBECCAL'S IDEA                        125
+
+  XVIII. PIERRE LABARRE                         133
+
+    XIX. A FIRST MEETING                        142
+
+     XX. THIN PARTITIONS                        147
+
+    XXI. THE GRATITUDE OF A MARQUIS             154
+
+   XXII. POOR BOBICHEL                          161
+
+  XXIII. FRANCE--1824                           170
+
+   XXIV. THE MARQUISE                           180
+
+    XXV. THE VEAU SAUTÉ                         188
+
+   XXVI. A MAN CHASE                            197
+
+  XXVII. A GHOST                                204
+
+ XXVIII. CINETTE! CINETTE!                      212
+
+   XXIX. A CONSPIRACY                           217
+
+    XXX. MACHIAVELLI & CO.                      224
+
+   XXXI. TRIUMPH                                229
+
+  XXXII. SURPRISES                              233
+
+ XXXIII. FACE TO FACE                           237
+
+  XXXIV. LEIGOUTTE                              246
+
+   XXXV. THE NEST                               258
+
+  XXXVI. SUPREME EFFORT                         266
+
+ XXXVII. THE TRIAL                              275
+
+XXXVIII. THE CRISIS                             278
+
+  XXXIX. THE AUTOPSY                            286
+
+     XL. BETWEEN CHARYBDIS AND SCYLLA           291
+
+    XLI. VIDOCQ, THE CHIEF OF POLICE            296
+
+   XLII. TO THOSE WHO LOVE FANFAR               298
+
+  XLIII. A LETTER FROM MONTE-CRISTO             304
+
+   XLIV. ESPERANCE                              307
+
+    XLV. "WHAT WILL HE DO?"                     310
+
+   XLVI. FORWARD!                               313
+
+  XLVII. JANE ZELD                              320
+
+ XLVIII. A THUNDER CLAP                         332
+
+   XLIX. HOW AND WHERE                          338
+
+      L. CATASTROPHES                           345
+
+     LI. A SHOT FROM A REVOLVER                 353
+
+    LII. "WILL JANE ZELD LIVE?"                 357
+
+   LIII. JANE ZELD'S SECRET                     361
+
+    LIV. CARMEN                                 382
+
+     LV. THE BANKER                             390
+
+    LVI. ESPERANCE, MONTE-CRISTO'S SON          397
+
+   LVII. THEY MUST BE SAVED                     402
+
+  LVIII. GOUTRAN AND CARMEN                     412
+
+    LIX. UPON THE TRACK                         422
+
+     LX. ESPERANCE IN DESPAIR                   428
+
+    LXI. ESPERANCE GOES TO COURBERRIE           430
+
+   LXII. COUCON                                 435
+
+  LXIII. CARMEN KEEPS HER WORD                  438
+
+   LXIV. THE PLOT                               447
+
+    LXV. THE MYSTERIOUS SIGNALS                 451
+
+   LXVI. UNITED IN DEATH                        456
+
+  LXVII. THE SPECTRE                            462
+
+ LXVIII. MONTE-CRISTO, THE MARTYR               468
+
+   LXIX. EPILOGUE                               471
+
+
+
+
+      THE
+
+      SON OF MONTE-CRISTO.
+
+      SEQUEL TO
+
+      THE WIFE OF MONTE-CRISTO.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I.
+
+ESPERANCE, THE SON OF MONTE-CRISTO.
+
+
+Esperance, the son of Monte-Cristo, lay sleeping in the comfortable bed
+provided for him in the house of Fanfar, the French colonist, as related
+at the close of the preceding volume, "The Wife of Monte-Cristo." The
+prostration and exhaustion brought on by the excitement and fatigue of
+his terrible adventure with the remorseless Khouans rendered his sleep
+as leaden as the sleep of death; indeed, had it not been for his heavy
+respiration, he might have been mistaken for a corpse. But ordinary
+difficulties were not to conquer the heroic son of Monte-Cristo, who
+seemed to have inherited all the marvelous power and energy of his noble
+father, and as he lay there in the hot Algerian night, amid the balmy
+perfume of the luxuriant tropical flowers, a mysterious smile hovered
+about the corners of his sharply cut lips that told unmistakably of a
+fearless nature and a firm desire to promote the success of the good and
+the true. Esperance slept, and the lion in him was dormant; it was,
+however, destined soon to be aroused.
+
+In another room, around the family table, Fanfar and his guests were
+seated, the Count of Monte-Cristo occupying the place of honor. The
+colonist, at the urgent solicitation of those with whom he had so
+strangely been brought in contact, was about to relate the story of his
+life, when suddenly Monte-Cristo's quick ear caught a sound.
+
+"What was that?" he said in a startled whisper, instantly springing to
+his feet.
+
+"I heard nothing," said Fanfar.
+
+"It was, perhaps, the cry of some wild beast," suggested Captain
+Joliette.
+
+Monte-Cristo hastened to his son's apartment, followed by Fanfar,
+Captain Joliette and Coucon, the Zouave.
+
+The boy was still sleeping soundly, and the apartment was altogether
+undisturbed.
+
+Monte-Cristo uttered a sigh of relief; he bent over the beautiful child
+and gently kissed him on the forehead.
+
+The party returned to the adjoining room and resumed their seats.
+Scarcely had they done so when a dark form, shrouded in a green
+bournous, appeared stealthily at the open window of Esperance's
+chamber, and, gazing furtively around, lightly sprang into the room.
+
+"Dog of a Frenchman!" hissed the intruder in a low tone between his
+teeth. "When you flung me over the battlements of Ouargla, you fancied
+you had killed me; but Maldar bears a charmed life and will have a
+bitter revenge!"
+
+The intruder was indeed Maldar, the Sultan, who by some miracle had
+escaped Monte-Cristo's vengeance.
+
+As he spoke he shook his fist in the direction of the Count, who was
+sitting at the table with the rest of Fanfar's guests, though his sombre
+air and clouded brow told that, while preserving his outward calmness,
+he yet suspected the presence of a deadly foe.
+
+Maldar had removed his sandals, and his footsteps were noiseless. He
+went to the bed and stood for an instant gloating over the slumbering
+boy.
+
+"I failed before, but I shall not fail again. Allah is great! I will
+strike this giaour of a Frenchman in his tenderest spot--his heart! The
+son shall pay the father's debt!"
+
+Half-crouching and gathering his green bournous closely about him, he
+crept cautiously back to the window and made the sign of the crescent in
+the air. There was a slight flash, a pale phosphorescent glow, and in
+the midst of it the emblem of Islam appeared for an instant like a
+semi-circle of fire and then vanished.
+
+Immediately a Khouan showed himself at the window; he leaped into the
+apartment, followed by three others of his fanatical and pitiless tribe.
+The new-comers instantly knelt at Maldar's feet and kissed the hem of
+his bournous.
+
+"Son of the Prophet," said one of them, "we are here to do your
+bidding!"
+
+"Rise," said Maldar, "and seize yonder lad, first gagging him with this
+sacred scarf made from Mohammed's own sainted vestment. Be quick and
+bear him to the desert!"
+
+The Khouan who had acted as spokesman took the scarf from Maldar's hand
+and skilfully executed his command. Esperance was in such a deep slumber
+that he did not make a movement, even when the Arab lifted him from the
+bed and held him in his arms.
+
+"Away!" cried Maldar in an undertone, adding, as the Khouan sprang from
+the window and disappeared in the darkness without: "Now, Count of
+Monte-Cristo, you are once more at my mercy, and this time you will not
+escape my vengeance!"
+
+He darted through the window, motioning to the remaining Khouans to do
+likewise. In an instant the room was empty; the Arabs had vanished like
+a vision of the night.
+
+Ten, fifteen minutes passed, and still not a sound to break the torpor
+of the Algerian night, save the hum of conversation around the table of
+Fanfar, the colonist. Monte-Cristo's sombre air had not passed away. He
+was a prey to a species of uneasiness he had never experienced before.
+Fanfar, noticing that the Count was disturbed, that some mysterious
+influence was working upon him, hesitated to commence his narration.
+Finally he said to him:
+
+"Count, are you anxious concerning your son? If so, you can dismiss your
+anxiety. The lad is in perfect safety beneath my roof; his slumber will
+refresh him, and he will awake entirely restored. As for the Khouans,
+they never deign to visit my humble habitation, and they will hardly
+break their rule to come here now. Still, to satisfy you and put all
+your apprehensions at rest, I will go and take a look at the lad."
+
+He arose and went to Esperance's room. In an instant he returned. His
+face had the pallor of wax.
+
+Monte-Cristo leaped nervously to his feet and stood staring at him, his
+countenance wearing an expression of intense anguish.
+
+"Well?" said he, in an unsteady voice.
+
+Fanfar was breathless with excitement and terror. When he could find
+words, he said:
+
+"The lad is gone!"
+
+"My God!" cried Monte-Cristo, putting his hand to his forehead and
+staggering beneath the overwhelming blow, "I felt it! I had a
+premonition of some impending disaster, I knew not what! Oh! Esperance!
+Esperance!"
+
+He hurried into the adjoining room and stood beside the empty bed. The
+moon was now shining in unclouded splendor and the apartment was almost
+as light as day. The slight covering had been torn from the couch and
+lay in a heap on the floor. Near it a small object sparkled; the
+agonized father stooped and picked it up: it was a miniature dagger of
+oriental workmanship, and upon its jeweled handle was an inscription in
+the Arabic tongue. Monte-Cristo took the weapon to the window and the
+full light of the silvery moonbeams fell upon it. The inscription was
+from the Koran, and was a maxim adopted by the Khouan tribe. The Count
+read it and trembled.
+
+"I recognize this weapon," said he; "it is Maldar's. The Sultan is
+living and has been here! It is to him I owe this terrible
+misfortune--he has carried away my son!"
+
+Miss Elphys approached the Count and touched his arm.
+
+"We must start in pursuit at once!" said she, with a look of courage and
+determination.
+
+"We?" cried Madame Caraman, aghast. "You, surely, do not mean again to
+face the dangers of this barbarous country, to go upon another Quixotic
+expedition, and drag me with you? Remember you are a woman! Besides,
+there are plenty of men here for the task!"
+
+Clary glanced at the governess with indignation, but vouchsafed no reply
+to her selfish speech.
+
+"Mademoiselle," said Captain Joliette, addressing the heroic girl, "your
+feelings do you honor; but I for one cannot consent for you to imperil
+your life in a night hunt for the dastardly Khouans, who have certainly
+made their way to the desert with the abducted lad. Madame Caraman is
+right; you must not again face the dangers of this barbarous country.
+Remain here with Madame Irène and Madame Caraman. I will organize and
+lead the pursuit."
+
+Monte-Cristo, who, in the face of the new dangers that threatened his
+son, had recovered somewhat of his accustomed calmness, came to them and
+said:
+
+"I thank you, Miss Elphys, for your generosity and bravery, but you must
+take the Captain's advice. Captain Joliette, I fully appreciate your
+motives in wishing to take command in this pursuit, but, at the same
+time, I must claim the precedence. Remember I am a father, and have a
+father's duty to perform. I will lead the pursuit."
+
+Captain Joliette bowed.
+
+"So be it," said he, "it is your right."
+
+Coucon, Fanfar, Gratillet and Iron Jaws eagerly offered their services,
+and even Bobichel forgot his merry pranks and demanded to accompany the
+expedition. The Count of Monte-Cristo desired the former clown to remain
+for the protection of the ladies, but Miss Elphys protested against
+this.
+
+"Take Bobichel with you," she said. "We can protect ourselves."
+
+Bobichel, overjoyed, ran for the horses, and the little army instantly
+mounted, riding away toward the desert at the top of their animals'
+speed, with Monte-Cristo at their head.
+
+Meanwhile Maldar and his Khouan followers were dashing along at a rapid
+pace on the fleet Arab coursers with which they were provided. One of
+the party bore Esperance before him on his saddle. The boy had not been
+aroused from his lethargic sleep by the abduction and subsequent flight.
+He slept peacefully and profoundly.
+
+The fanatical Arabs maintained unbroken silence, and the sound of their
+horses' hoofs was deadened by the sand.
+
+Maldar rode a trifle in advance. Now that the excitement of the
+abduction had worn off, he was as stoical as the rest, but occasionally,
+as he thought of his triumph over Monte-Cristo and the vengeance he was
+about to take upon his hated enemy, for he had decided to put Esperance
+to a lingering and terrible death and send the lad's gory head to the
+agonized father, a grim smile stole over his otherwise impassible
+countenance, and a demoniac gleam shot from his eyes.
+
+But suddenly a faint sound was heard in the far distance. It came from
+the direction of Fanfar's farm. Maldar listened attentively; then he
+said to the Khouans, whose quick ears had also detected the sound:
+
+"Ride like the wind, sons of the Prophet! We are pursued! The Count of
+Monte-Cristo and his unbelieving French hounds are on our track! But if
+they would overtake us and recover the boy, they must have the cunning
+of serpents and horses as fleet as the lightning's flash!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II.
+
+HAYDÉE, THE WIFE OF MONTE-CRISTO.
+
+
+It was in Monte-Cristo's luxurious mansion in Marseilles, one bright
+morning in April. Since the Count's departure for Algeria in search of
+her son, Mercédès, faithful to her oath never to leave Haydée, had taken
+up her residence there. The two women who had filled such important
+places in the life of Monte-Cristo were sitting together in the large
+drawing-room, the windows of which looked out upon the calm blue waters
+of the Mediterranean. These windows were open and through them floated
+the delightful perfume of the flowers from the garden beyond, mingled
+with the saline odors of the sea. It was about ten o'clock and the sun,
+high in the heavens, inundated the vast apartment with its golden light
+and filled it with a generous warmth.
+
+Haydée, the wife of Monte-Cristo, reclined upon an oriental rug, her
+head pillowed in the lap of Mercédès, who sat on a divan elegantly
+upholstered in the eastern fashion. Mercédès was lightly toying with
+Haydée's glossy hair that fell like a cloud about her shapely shoulders.
+Her eyes were beaming with affection, while those of Haydée had in them
+a dreamy, faraway look.
+
+"Sister," said Mercédès at last, "why are you so sad and silent?"
+
+"I know not," replied the wife of Monte-Cristo, languidly.
+
+"You are thinking of your husband, the noblest of men, who is even now,
+perhaps, risking his life in the Algerian desert to save and recover my
+son."
+
+"You speak truly," returned Haydée with a shudder; "I am thinking of
+him, and my heart is strangely oppressed."
+
+"Have confidence in Monte-Cristo," said her companion, earnestly. "His
+lion courage, wonderful mental resources and mysterious power will
+render him more than a match for the untutored Arabs with whom it is his
+mission to contend."
+
+"Yes, Mercédès; but my son, my Esperance? He is so young to be exposed
+to the dangers of the desert!"
+
+"But Monte-Cristo is with him, and the father's love will shield him
+from all harm."
+
+Haydée made no reply, but continued to gaze dreamily into space.
+Mercédès, still toying with her hair, strove to rouse her.
+
+"Sister," said she, abruptly, "yesterday you promised to tell me how
+Monte-Cristo rescued you from the hands of the Turkish slave-dealer, Ali
+Pasha. Will you not fulfil that promise now?"
+
+Haydée turned her eyes full on her companion's countenance and a look of
+gratitude passed over her pale visage. She saw that Mercédès wished to
+draw her mind from the contemplation of her husband's present peril by
+inducing her to revert to his heroism of the past.
+
+"I will tell you," said she, "here in this apartment where everything,
+even to the very air, is vital with souvenirs of my beloved husband."
+And, without altering her position, Haydée at once commenced the
+following thrilling narration:
+
+"We were cruising off the coast of Egypt in the Alcyon, when the idea of
+visiting Constantinople suddenly occurred to Monte-Cristo. He gave his
+orders without an instant's delay and the yacht was immediately headed
+for the Sultan's dominions.
+
+"We reached Constantinople in due time, after an exceedingly pleasant
+voyage, for though it was toward the close of spring the weather was
+mild and for weeks the sea had been as calm and unruffled as a mirror.
+
+"As we entered the Bosporus, we noticed a strange craft hovering near
+us. It was a small, rakish-looking vessel bearing the Turkish flag.
+Monte-Cristo had run up his private ensign on the Alcyon, an ensign that
+was recognized by all nations and gave the yacht free entrance into
+every port.
+
+"The strange craft seemed to be following us, but as it made no attempt
+to approach the yacht, we soon became used to its presence and ceased to
+give it attention.
+
+"When the Alcyon anchored, a gorgeously decorated caique, manned by a
+score of stalwart oarsmen, shot from shore and was soon alongside of the
+yacht. A magnificently-appareled old man with a long, snowy beard,
+attended by four solemn and stately eunuchs, came on board and was
+ceremoniously received by the Count. It was the Grand Vizier, who,
+having recognized Monte-Cristo's ensign, had hastened to welcome the
+illustrious hero to Constantinople in the name of his august master, the
+Sultan.
+
+"Such an honor merited prompt and becoming recognition, and Monte-Cristo
+was too much of a Frenchman not to return compliment for compliment.
+Leaving the Alcyon in charge of his first officer, and bidding me a
+hasty and tender farewell, the Count entered the caique with the Grand
+Vizier and departed to pay his respects in person to the ruler of the
+Turkish nation.
+
+"No sooner was the caique lost to sight among the shipping than the
+strange craft we had previously observed suddenly ran up to the yacht
+and made fast to her with grappling-irons. Before Monte-Cristo's men
+could recover from their surprise at this manoeuvre they were made
+prisoners and securely bound by twenty Turkish buccaneers, who had
+leaped over the bulwarks of the Alcyon, headed by a villainous-looking
+wretch, furiously brandishing a jeweled yataghan. This was Ali Pasha,
+the slave-dealer, as I soon learned to my cost.
+
+"When the ruffians boarded the yacht, I had rushed below and hidden
+myself in Monte-Cristo's cabin, first securing a keen-bladed dagger for
+my defence.
+
+"I had locked the door, but it was almost instantly burst open and Ali
+Pasha leaped in, followed by several of his crew.
+
+"Holding my weapon uplifted in my hand, I cried out, in a tone of
+desperate determination:
+
+"'The first scoundrel who dares to lay a finger on me shall die like a
+dog!'
+
+"This speech was greeted with a loud burst of contemptuous laughter, and
+Ali Pasha himself, springing forward, whirled the dagger from my grasp
+with his yataghan. This done, he sternly fixed his glance upon me and
+said:
+
+"'Haydée, wife of Monte-Cristo, Haydée, the Greek slave, you are my
+captive! Sons of Islam, seize her and conduct her to the slave mart of
+Stamboul!'
+
+"Three Turks advanced to obey this command. They seized me and in vain
+did I struggle in their ruffianly grasp. In a moment I was securely
+bound and gagged. A mantle was thrown over my head. I felt myself thrust
+into a sack and swooned just as one of the buccaneers was lifting me
+upon his shoulder.
+
+"When I recovered consciousness, I found myself, with a number of
+half-clad Georgian and Circassian girls, in the dreaded slave bazaar of
+Constantinople. Old memories, fraught with terror, rushed upon me. I
+recalled the time when I was before exposed for sale and Monte-Cristo
+had bought me. Would he come to my rescue once more? I scarcely dared to
+hope for such a thing. I pictured to myself the Count's desolation and
+distress on discovering that I had been stolen from him. But what could
+he do? How could he find me again? And even should he discover me, how
+could he snatch me from the grasp of Ali Pasha, whose favor with the
+Sultan was notorious? Monte-Cristo, with all his prestige, was but one
+man, and no match for the mendaciousness, duplicity and power of the
+entire Turkish court! I was lost, and nothing could save me!
+
+"How shall I describe my feelings when I realized that I was even then,
+at that very moment, exposed for sale, that from being the free and
+honored wife of Monte-Cristo I had suddenly become a mere article of
+human merchandise, valued simply at so many miserable piastres! My fate
+hung upon a thread. Would I be purchased by some grandee as a new
+ornament for his harem, or was I destined to fall into the hands of a
+brutal master, to be used as a household drudge for the execution of
+bitter and revolting tasks?
+
+"When each new purchaser entered the bazaar I trembled from head to
+foot, I quivered in every limb. One by one I saw the unfortunate
+Georgian and Circassian girls inspected and disposed of, until at last I
+was the only slave unsold in the entire mart. I thought my turn must
+speedily come, that the next Mussulman who entered would surely buy me,
+and I had firmly resolved upon suicide at the first opportunity,
+choosing death rather than slavery.
+
+"Ali Pasha had personally conducted all the visitors about the bazaar,
+dilating in the extravagant oriental fashion upon the extraordinary
+merits of the captives he wished to turn into money. Many times he had
+paused before me where I stood cowering in a corner, volubly expatiating
+on my value and attractiveness, but hitherto not a single Turk had
+evinced the slightest inclination to relieve him of me.
+
+"At last two men made their appearance and eagerly glanced around the
+mart. Both wore turbans and full Turkish dress. Their faces were
+shrouded with heavy beards, and there was an indescribable something
+about them that stamped them as personages of exalted rank.
+
+"They paused a short distance from me, and one of them said, addressing
+Ali Pasha:
+
+"'What is the name of yonder slave?'
+
+"'Zuleika,' answered the obsequious and unscrupulous slave-dealer.
+
+"'From what country is she and how did you obtain possession of her?'
+asked the second visitor, who had not yet spoken. His voice was subdued
+and evidently disguised; nevertheless there was something familiar in
+its tone that strangely stirred me and filled me with hope.
+
+"Ali Pasha replied to his inquiry with unblushing effrontery:
+
+"'The slave is from Circassia, and was sold to me by her parents.'
+
+"I know not how I obtained the courage to do so, but instantly I cried
+out:
+
+"'All that vile wretch has said is false! My name is Haydée, and I am
+the wife of the Count of Monte-Cristo! Ali Pasha forcibly abducted me
+from my husband's yacht that now lies in the harbor of Constantinople!'
+
+"'Ali Pasha,' said the first speaker, 'this is a grave accusation! It is
+true that the illustrious Monte-Cristo's yacht now lies in the harbor of
+Stamboul, and such an abduction as this slave has mentioned did,
+indeed, take place.'
+
+"The slave-dealer winced slightly, but, instantly recovering himself,
+calmly answered:
+
+"'I know nothing of Monte-Cristo, his yacht or his wife. As for this
+lying slave, I will punish her on the spot!'
+
+"With these words he advanced toward me and lifted his clenched fist to
+strike. I shrank tremblingly against the wall, but the next instant a
+blow that would have felled an ox had hurled Ali Pasha to the stone
+floor of the bazaar. It was delivered by the man whose voice had seemed
+familiar to me, and, tearing off his beard, my husband, the undaunted
+Count of Monte-Cristo himself, caught me in his arms and folded me to
+his breast!
+
+"Ali Pasha had now arisen to his feet. Livid with rage he rushed at
+Monte-Cristo with a dagger in his hand, swearing by the Prophet that he
+would have his heart's blood. But the other visitor caught his arm and
+held him back.
+
+"'Who are you and why do you stand between me and my just revenge?'
+cried the slave-dealer, furiously.
+
+"The stranger threw open his robe, and on his breast gleamed a
+diamond-studded crescent.
+
+"'The Grand Vizier!' exclaimed Ali Pasha, prostrating himself before the
+high official. The latter clapped his hands, whereupon six soldiers
+marched into the bazaar.
+
+"'Seize that wretch!' he cried, pointing to the slave-dealer, 'and
+inflict upon him the punishment of the bastinado!'
+
+"When this order had been executed, the Grand Vizier, placing himself at
+the head of the soldiers, escorted Monte-Cristo and myself to the harbor
+and saw us safely on board the royal caique.
+
+"In due time we reached the yacht, where the officers and crew were at
+their posts as usual.
+
+"After his interview with the Sultan, Monte-Cristo, accompanied by the
+Grand Vizier, had returned to the Alcyon in the caique. To his
+astonishment he found his men lying on the deck tightly bound. On
+releasing them he learned what had happened, and his influence was
+sufficient to induce the Grand Vizier, who was greatly affected by the
+Count's despair when he discovered the terrible fate that had befallen
+me, to risk the Sultan's displeasure by aiding him to recover me from
+the clutches of Ali Pasha.
+
+"Such," concluded Haydée, "was the manner in which Monte-Cristo rescued
+me from the hands of the villainous Turkish slave-dealer and a fate
+worse than death."
+
+"Sister," said Mercédès, "no wonder you love Monte-Cristo so devotedly,
+for he is one of the noblest and most heroic men upon this earth!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III.
+
+THE COUNT OF MONTE-CRISTO.
+
+
+Maldar and his Khouan followers had reached the desert with their
+captive. For a long time they heard Monte-Cristo and his men in hot
+pursuit of them, but the sound, growing fainter and fainter, had finally
+ceased. The Sultan concluded that the Count had been misled by some
+fancied indication and had taken a wrong direction. He therefore gave
+himself no further concern in regard to him. Once in the desert he
+slackened the pace of his Arab steed and the Khouans imitated his
+example. The party rode on for several miles when they arrived at a
+small oasis, covered with tall palm trees, that resembled an island of
+verdure amid the far-reaching waste of arid sand. There Maldar gave the
+order to dismount. The Khouans sprang lightly from their weary horses,
+both men and animals going directly to the wells, where they took long
+draughts of the cool, refreshing water. The night was now far spent, and
+as the abductors of Esperance threw themselves upon the grass
+surrounding the wells, the first rosy streaks of dawn appeared in the
+eastern heavens. The horses stood cropping the verdure for a brief
+period, then they also lay down for rest and recuperation. Soon slumber
+reigned supreme, for Maldar, fearing neither pursuit nor attack, had
+not taken the precaution to post sentinels. The scarf had been removed
+from Esperance's mouth, and the son of Monte-Cristo, still wrapped in
+his lethargic sleep, lay on the sod beside Maldar near one of the wells.
+It was a wild and picturesque group, such a group as would have filled
+the soul of a painter with delight and inspiration.
+
+As the light increased, but while it was yet vague and uncertain, giving
+a demoniac and supernatural cast to the group and its tropical
+surroundings, Esperance suddenly awoke and raised himself upon his
+elbow. For an instant he gazed around him in bewilderment and terror.
+Was he dead, and were those swarthy-visaged forms extended motionless on
+the grass of the oasis the forms of fiends? This thought shot through
+his mind and augmented his consternation. When he fell asleep he was
+with his father, with the dauntless Monte-Cristo, and the last faces he
+had seen were the faces of French people and friends. Now he was in the
+midst of beings of another race, in the midst of strangers. Strangers?
+No, for at that moment his eyes rested on Maldar, and he realized that
+he was again in the clutches of his remorseless foe, and that the men
+around him belonged to the dreaded Khouan tribe.
+
+He was unbound; nothing restrained his movements and not a single guard
+was watching over him. His fear vanished with his bewilderment and gave
+place to heroic resolution. Why should he not escape and make his way
+back to his beloved father and devoted countrymen? He arose cautiously
+to his feet, and peered into the distance. His heart throbbed with
+anguish, for beyond the narrow confines of the green oasis, as far as
+his eye could reach, stretched the trackless sands of the arid and
+inhospitable desert. Flight would be madness, nay, perhaps, death, but
+would it not also be death to remain? The son of Monte-Cristo, full of
+his father's unconquerable spirit, determined to take the chances of
+flight. Doubtless Monte-Cristo and his friends were even now scouring
+the desert in search of him. If he could mount one of the Khouans'
+horses and escape from the hands of his fanatical foes, he might meet
+them.
+
+Esperance stole cautiously toward an Arab courser, but he had not taken
+a dozen steps when Maldar awoke, leaped to his feet, ran to him and laid
+an iron hand upon his shoulder.
+
+"So you thought to escape me, did you, son of Monte-Cristo?" said the
+Sultan, with a mocking laugh and a fiendish light in big eyes. "By the
+beard of the Prophet, your presumption is unbounded! But you are mine,
+and no power on earth can save you now!"
+
+The heroic lad gazed full in Maldar's face and, without the quiver of a
+muscle, answered defiantly:
+
+"Wretch that you are to war on defenceless children, I do not fear you!
+Harm but a single hair of my head, and Monte-Cristo will grind you into
+dust!"
+
+Maldar replied with a sneer: "Monte-Cristo, the infidel charlatan, is
+miles away. With all his boasted power he can do nothing to aid you. I
+have you now, and you shall die!"
+
+With the quickness of lightning Esperance thrust out his hand, seizing
+the Sultan's jeweled yataghan and drawing it from its scabbard. At the
+same time he raised it above his head and brought it down, aiming it
+straight at Maldar's heart. The Sultan parried the thrust with his arm,
+receiving a gaping wound from which the blood gushed in a ruby stream.
+Smarting with pain and foaming with rage, he threw himself upon the
+daring boy, tore the yataghan from his grasp, and with its heavy handle
+struck him a blow on the head that stretched him senseless at his feet.
+
+The noise of the conflict awoke the Khouans, who sprang up and rushed to
+their chief.
+
+One of them drew a long-bladed knife and was about to stab the prostrate
+and unconscious boy, but the Sultan restrained him with an impatient
+gesture.
+
+"Not here," said he. "The sacrifice can only be made in the mosque of
+the Khouans, thrice dedicated to Mohammed and reserved for the holiest
+rite of Islam, the rite of vengeance!" Motioning to the Khouan to take
+the insensible boy from the ground, he added "Now to horse and for the
+mosque. Bear our captive in your arms."
+
+The Arabs mounted and were soon dashing across the desert, headed by the
+Sultan, who had hastily stanched the blood flowing from his arm and
+bound up the wound.
+
+Half an hour later, Monte-Cristo and his men reached the oasis. The
+Count and Captain Joliette rode to the wells and at once saw where the
+grass had been beaten down by the Khouans and their horses.
+
+"They have been here and recently, too," said Captain Joliette.
+
+"Thank God!" said Monte-Cristo, fervently. "We are on their track! But
+what is that?" he added. "Is it blood?"
+
+Coucon and Fanfar, who had been attentively examining the stain,
+simultaneously answered:
+
+"It is blood."
+
+"My God!" cried Monte-Cristo, with a convulsive start, "then they have
+slain my son!"
+
+"Not so, Count," said Captain Joliette. "Had they slain Esperance they
+would have left his body here. But see," resumed he, pointing to the
+spot where Esperance had made the attack on Maldar; "here are evidences
+of a struggle; they have fought among themselves and one of them has
+been wounded."
+
+"Heaven grant it may be so!" said Monte-Cristo.
+
+The party started off again, following the track of the Arabs' horses,
+and after an hour's ride came in sight of a long, low building with a
+gleaming minaret, standing alone in the midst of the desert.
+
+"The mosque of the Khouans!" cried Captain Joliette, triumphantly.
+"Maldar and his ruffians are there! Look! Yonder are their horses!"
+
+Monte-Cristo and his men reached the building and leaped to the ground;
+they left their panting animals in charge of Bobichel, and, drawing
+their revolvers, made their way into the mosque.
+
+There a sight met their eyes that almost froze the blood in their veins.
+
+Esperance, with his hands tied behind him and stripped to the waist,
+was kneeling upon a large, flat stone in the centre of the mosque. Over
+him stood Maldar, his yataghan uplifted to strike. The four Khouans
+stood at a short distance, chanting what was evidently a death-hymn.
+
+Instantly Monte-Cristo aimed his weapon at the Sultan and fired. Maldar
+fell dead beside his intended victim.
+
+The other Arabs leaped through the open windows and, mounting their
+horses, fled across the desert.
+
+Monte-Cristo caught his son in his arms.
+
+"Esperance, my beloved!" he cried.
+
+"Father!" exclaimed the rescued lad, clasping his arms about
+Monte-Cristo's neck.
+
+Esperance's garments were quickly restored to him by Fanfar, and when he
+was clad in them, the party again mounted and started on their return to
+the colonist's farm.
+
+There is no need to describe the toilsome journey, it was accomplished
+in due time, and once more Esperance was safe in his father's care.
+
+The ladies gave the heroes of the expedition a most enthusiastic
+welcome, Miss Elphys shedding tears of joy as Esperance told her how his
+heroic father had saved him from death at Maldar's hands.
+
+The next evening, when the excitement had somewhat subsided and
+Monte-Cristo and his men had fully recovered from their fatigue, Fanfar
+began the story of his life, which will be related in the succeeding
+chapters.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV.
+
+FANFAR'S ADVENTURES--CAIN.
+
+
+Toward the middle of December, 1813, a man was riding through the Black
+Forest.
+
+This man seemed to be still in the vigor of youth. He wore a long, brown
+surtout and leathern gaiters. His hair was worn in a queue, and
+powdered. Night was coming on, and Pierre Labarre, confidential servant
+of the Marquis de Fongereues, was somewhat weary and eager to get on.
+
+"Quick!" he said to his horse. "Quick! They are waiting for us, and we
+are the bearers of good news!"
+
+The animal seemed to understand, and accelerated his pace.
+
+Suddenly Pierre started. He had reached a group of nine trees, one of
+which had been struck by lightning, making the group a conspicuous one.
+The rider listened as he pulled up his steed.
+
+"Surely," he said to himself, "I heard the trot of a horse on the other
+side of the Nine Trees!"
+
+The road widened here and divided. He laid his hand on his breast by an
+involuntary movement.
+
+"The portfolio is safe, any way! Get on, Margotte." And he lifted his
+reins.
+
+But, as if this movement were a signal, he heard distinctly a horse
+coming toward him, this time at a full gallop, and then Pierre saw a
+shadow pass some thirty yards away.
+
+He drew out a pistol, and rode with it in his hand until he passed the
+cross-road, but he saw and heard nothing more. Perhaps he had been
+mistaken--it was only a messenger traveling the same road as himself. He
+had entered the path which in a half hour would take him into Fribourg,
+when suddenly there was a flash and a report. A ball struck Pierre in
+the breast--he fell forward on the neck of his horse. A man came out of
+the shadow on the side of the road. This man was wrapped in a cloak.
+Just as he laid his hand on the bridle of the horse, Pierre straightened
+himself in his saddle.
+
+"You are in too great a hurry, bandit!" he shouted, firing his pistol at
+the assassin at the same moment.
+
+The man uttered a terrible cry, and then, with a superhuman effort,
+sprang into the wood. Pierre fired again, but this time hit nothing.
+
+"It was a good idea of mine," he said, rubbing his chest, "to use this
+portfolio as a breastplate. And now, Margotte, carry me to Fribourg
+without further adventures!"
+
+As Margotte obeyed the spur, her master heard the gallop of another
+horse dying away in the distance.
+
+"Strange!" he said. "I could not see his face, but it seemed to me that
+I knew his voice when he cried out!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V.
+
+WHAT PIERRE KNEW.
+
+
+The Place Notre Dame at Fribourg was crowded with citizens and soldiers.
+The citizens wore troubled, and talked together in low voices, while the
+soldiers were noisy and abusive against France.
+
+The colossal spire of the Cathedral threw its shadow over this scene.
+
+Sovereigns and diplomats, ready for an invasion of France, had left
+Frankfort for Fribourg, there to complete their plans of vengeance and
+hate.
+
+Blucher, with Sachen and Laugeron, had concentrated their troops between
+Mayence and Coblentz. The Prince de Schwartzemberg was marching toward
+Bâle. The Swiss were irritated, believing that their neutrality would be
+violated.
+
+In the Chamber of Commerce the Emperor Alexander, with Metternich and
+Lord Castlereagh, were studying maps, eager for the fray and the
+dismemberment of France. Count Pozzo de Borga was on his way to England.
+
+On the Place de Ministre a tall mansion faces the Cathedral. Steps, with
+wrought iron railings, lead to the oaken door, well barred with steel.
+On the second floor, in a large, gloomy room, several persons are
+assembled. The last rays of the setting sun are coming from the high
+windows through the heavy panes of glass set in lead.
+
+Standing near a window is a lady in black, looking out on the Square;
+her hand caresses a child who clings to her skirts. The two corners of
+the chimney in which are burning resinous logs of wood are occupied. On
+one side sits an old man, on the other a lady wrapped in a cloak that
+covers her entirely.
+
+The Marquis de Fongereues is only sixty, but his white hair, his
+wrinkles, and the sad senility of his countenance gave him the
+appearance of an octogenarian. He sits motionless, his hands crossed on
+his knees. The lady opposite, whose head rests on the high oak back of
+her chair, is not yet forty. Her face is hard, and her eyes, fixed upon
+the Marquis, seem eager to read his thoughts. She is Pauline de
+Maillezais--Marquise de Fongereues--and the lady at the window is
+Magdalena, Vicomtesse de Talizac. Her husband, Jean de Talizac, is the
+son of the Marquis de Fongereues. Suddenly the old man said:
+
+"Where is Jean?"
+
+Magdalena started, as if this voice, breaking the silence of the room,
+had startled her.
+
+"He has been away since morning," she replied, in a voice that she
+endeavored to render careless.
+
+"Ah!" said the Marquis, relapsing into silence. Presently he inquired
+what time it was.
+
+"Let me see--I wish to tell him," cried the child, leaving his mother's
+side and running across the room to a console table, on which stood an
+elaborate clock.
+
+Frederic, the son of the Vicomte de Talizac, is deformed. One shoulder
+is higher than the other, and he limps, but he seems alert.
+
+"It is seven o'clock," he said, in a sharp voice.
+
+The door was thrown open at this moment, and a German officer appeared.
+Madame Fongereues rose hastily.
+
+"And what is the decision, Monsieur de Karlstein?" she asked.
+
+The officer bowed low to each of the three persons in the room, and then
+said, quietly:
+
+"To-morrow the allied armies will cross the French frontier."
+
+"At last!" exclaimed Madame de Fongereues, and Madame de Talizac uttered
+a cry of joy. The Marquis was unmoved.
+
+"The details--give us the details!" said the young Marquise.
+
+"We shall reach France through Switzerland," said the German, "and
+penetrate the heart of the empire. Lord Castlereagh approves of this
+plan and the Emperor Alexander gives it favorable consideration."
+
+"And in a month the king will be at the Tuileries!" said Madame de
+Talizac.
+
+The German did not notice this remark.
+
+"And now, ladies, will you kindly permit me to retire? In two hours I
+leave with my company."
+
+Madame de Fongereues extended her hand to him.
+
+"Go, sir," she said. "Go aid in this sacred work! Insolent France must
+learn that the most sacred rights cannot be trodden under foot with
+impunity. Let the chastisement be as terrible as has been the crime!"
+
+Monsieur de Karlstein bowed low and went out.
+
+"At last!" repeated the Marquise. "These French have insulted and
+despised us too long! Twenty-five years of exile! It is twenty-five
+years since my father the Comte de Maillezais took me in his arms and,
+pointing toward Paris, said, 'Child! remember that the day will come
+when these men will kill their king, as they have forced your father to
+fly for his life.' Monsieur Fongereues, do you hear? Are you not glad to
+return as master among these men who drove you away, and with you all
+that there was great and noble in France?"
+
+The old man turned his head.
+
+"God protect France!" he said, solemnly.
+
+A shout of laughter rang through the room. It was the son of Vicomte
+Jean, who was laughing at his grandfather.
+
+Madame de Talizac shrugged her shoulders impatiently. Madame de
+Fongereues made her a sign.
+
+"Come," she said, "the Marquis is sinking into his second childhood, and
+his follies irritate me."
+
+The child took his mother's hand.
+
+"We shall be the masters now, mamma, shall we not?"
+
+The Vicomtesse murmured, as she left the room,
+
+"Why has not Jean come? Can it be that he has not succeeded!"
+
+Hardly had they disappeared than a door, concealed behind a hanging,
+slowly opened.
+
+Pierre Labarre appeared and noiselessly approaching his master, knelt at
+his feet.
+
+"Master," he said, respectfully, "I have returned."
+
+The Marquis started. "You have come!" he exclaimed, then dropping his
+voice, he added, "Quick! Simon?"
+
+"Hush! not so loud!" said Pierre; then whispering in the old man's ear,
+"He is living!" he said.
+
+The Marquis half closed his eyes, and his lips moved in prayer, while
+large tears slowly ran down his withered cheeks.
+
+The Marquis belonged to one of the oldest families of Languedoc. His
+ancestors had served France faithfully and had held positions of trust
+near the persons of the kings. The present Marquis had committed a fault
+not easily forgiven by the _ancien régime_. He had married the daughter
+of a farmer, when he was twenty, in spite of the threats of his family.
+This union was of short duration, for his wife died in giving birth to a
+son. This blow was so sudden that the young man abandoned himself to
+despair. He shut himself up from the world on an estate he had among the
+Vosges mountains, and lived only for his child.
+
+The beloved dead, though of peasant blood, had been an extraordinary
+woman. She, young as she was, had thought much, and felt deeply the
+sufferings of her class. She pointed out to the Marquis how the people
+were weighed down by taxes, and how little their hard toil availed
+them.
+
+"Friend," said Simonne, "thou art wealthy, thou belongest to the
+privileged class, give and speak. Open thy hand, and raise thy voice!"
+
+She endeavored to awaken in his heart a noble ambition. He was twenty
+and he loved. Had she lived, Armand would, undoubtedly, have been one of
+the greatest actors in the crisis then preparing, but now that she was
+gone, he forgot the glorious legacy she had bequeathed to him. He
+detested the court, however, and determined that his son should grow up
+far away from its influences. Simon, therefore, passed his childhood
+among the mountains drinking in the delicious air, and growing as freely
+as a young tree.
+
+But Armand was weak. His friends and family, who had fallen away from
+him at the time of his marriage, now sought to bring him back. He
+resisted for a time, but at last went to Versailles. The king received
+him proudly and said, "Monsieur de Fongereues, it is not well in you to
+abandon us thus. The throne needs its faithful supporters."
+
+A few days later he was presented to Mademoiselle de Maillezais--her
+beauty was of that quality that dazzles rather than pleases. She made
+herself very attractive on this occasion, anxious to take back to the
+king this nobleman who had so nearly been lost.
+
+In 1779, Armand married this lady. Simon, the peasant's son, was then
+five years of age. When his father spoke of him to his wife some little
+time after their marriage, she replied:
+
+"You will, of course, do as you choose, but I should say that any
+change would be likely to injure his health."
+
+The Marquis was glad to seize any excuse for keeping Simonne's son away
+from that society which his mother had so strongly condemned. It was
+with the feeling, therefore, that he was obeying the wishes of his
+beloved dead, that he left Simon among the mountains.
+
+It was at this time that the war begun by the enemies of Nechar against
+his innovations reached its height. The nobles and the clergy, feeling
+their privileges attacked, organized against the Genoese banker a
+campaign in which he was to fall. The Maillezais family were Nechar's
+pitiless adversaries, and in spite of himself the Marquis was carried
+along with them. His wife had acquired a supremacy over him that daily
+increased. His weak nature was ever ready to be influenced by others,
+and his natural enthusiasm originally aroused by Simonne for another
+cause, was perverted to the profit of the _ancien régime_, and finally
+he was one of the first to applaud the words of Louis XVI., when he
+signed his name to an edict which inflicted on the country a new debt of
+four hundred and twenty million.
+
+"It is _legal_ because _I wish it_."
+
+Nevertheless, the Marquis often thought of Simonne when he was alone. He
+recalled her beautiful, energetic face, her pathetic, eloquent words.
+Then he longed to see her son, whom his present wife hated. She herself
+had become a mother; the Vicomte Jean Talizac had been held at the
+baptismal font by the Queen Marie Antoinette.
+
+The Marquise determined to oust Simon from his place in his father's
+heart. She but half succeeded in this, and was too wise to attack the
+memory of the dead.
+
+The Marquis wrote in secret to his son, and occasionally went to see him
+among the Vosges, and embraced the lad, who inherited all his mother's
+intelligence and goodness.
+
+Then the Vicomte returned like a truant schoolboy to Versailles, and the
+Marquise brought in her boy with an expression that seemed to say, "This
+is your boy! He is the one in whose veins runs only noble blood!"
+
+In 1787 the Marquis was dangerously ill. His wife was devoted to him,
+and one day when he was in a critical condition she said, gently:
+
+"Shall I send for the peasant's child?"
+
+He closed his eyes and did not reply. When, after long weeks of illness,
+he was restored to health, he belonged to the Marquise. He never spoke
+of his eldest child, and adored Jean.
+
+Then came the emigration. Monsieur de Fongereues, friend of Condé and of
+Polignac, yielded to his wife's entreaties and joined the Prince de
+Condé at Worms, where he was making an appeal to foreign powers against
+France. Although yielding to the wishes of the Marquise, De Fongereues
+was fully aware that it was a base act to desert his country, and excite
+against her the hatred of her most violent enemies. Young Simon, the
+son of the peasant, could not join in this parricidal act, although the
+Marquis sent Pierre Labarre, who was even then in his service, to his
+son, then fifteen years of age, to sound his views. If the youth would
+enter the army of Condé, the Marquis assured him a brilliant future. If
+he remained in France, however, he could no longer rely on his father,
+who, however, sent him a large sum of money. The youth refused the
+money, and replied:
+
+"Say to my father that I love him, and that if ever he requires a
+devoted heart and a courageous arm that he may summon me to his side;
+but now, if I am to choose between poverty in my own country and wealth
+in a foreign land, I remain here!"
+
+"It was Simonne's soul that spoke through his lips!" murmured the
+Marquis, when Pierre repeated the message sent by the young man.
+
+The father and son did not meet after 1790. We will now return to
+Fribourg, to that room where Pierre Labarre had just told the Marquis
+that Simon was living.
+
+Twenty-five years had elapsed--twenty-five years of anguish and sorrow
+for the Marquis. He had seen France fighting with heroic energy against
+all Europe. He had heard the enthusiastic shouts of 1792, and then the
+dull groans of the people crushed under the heel of the conqueror. And
+while his country bled and fought, the Marquis blushed with shame in
+London, Berlin and Vienna when his French ears heard the maledictions of
+the conquered.
+
+As soon as his son, the Vicomte Jean, reached the age of twenty, he had
+become one of the most active agents of the coalition, and, as if to
+indicate his hatred of France, married a German.
+
+From that time the Marquis heard nothing but abuse of France, nothing
+but exultation when her sons fell in Spain or in Russia. The old man's
+heart was sore within him, but it was then too late for him to make a
+stand, and he was obliged to live on amid this hatred.
+
+Once only did Jean go to France to lend his aid to Cadondal's
+conspiracy, but he was obliged to flee precipitately, and with
+difficulty succeeded in gaining the frontier. On his return he was in a
+state of sullen rage. Was it despair at his lack of success, or did the
+Vicomte feel any remorse? His father watched him with troubled eyes and
+many fears, but did not dare ask a question.
+
+What had become of Simon? The Marquis had read in a newspaper that a
+Simon Fougère carried the orders of the day at the battle of
+Hohenlinden. He leaped at once at the truth. Simonne's son was fighting
+for his country, while his other son, the Vicomte de Talizac, was
+fighting against it.
+
+Suddenly the Marquis beheld the fall of the Imperial idol. The allied
+armies were in France. Vengeance was near at hand!
+
+Three times the Marquis sent Pierre to France, but the faithful servant
+could learn nothing of Simon, but this last time he discovered that
+Simon was living. Pierre had been in the service of the Marquis for
+forty years. He had known Simonne, and felt for his master the deepest
+affection. He was of the people, and only this affection had induced him
+to leave France. By degrees he had become the confidant of his master,
+and read his half-broken heart like an open book, and realized that it
+was full of regrets, almost of remorse. Then he swore to himself that he
+would aid the Marquis to repair the injustice done to Simon. It is
+needless to say that Pierre's honest nature felt no sympathy for the
+Marquise. She, on the contrary, was the object of his deepest aversion,
+for he well knew that she had done her best to have him dismissed from
+the service of the Marquis.
+
+The Vicomte de Talizac, the Vicomtesse, and their son, detested Pierre
+and watched him closely, with what aim they alone knew.
+
+"I went to the Vosges, master," said Pierre. "I learned that the soldier
+known by the name of Simon Fougère had gone to Lorraine. I could learn
+nothing more. I went about everywhere--to Epinal, Nancy, Saint Dié--and
+I had begun to despair, when one evening I reached the foot of a
+mountain and saw a little cluster of houses. I asked a peasant who was
+passing if I could procure accommodations there for the night.
+
+"Of course," he answered. "Go straight ahead and you will come to friend
+Simon's inn."
+
+The Marquis listened breathlessly. Pierre continued:
+
+"The name was a common one in that part of the country, as I had good
+reason to know, but this time my heart began to beat. I thanked the
+peasant and I hurried on. And when I think that a Comte de
+Fongereues----"
+
+"It was he, then!" cried the Marquis, snatching his servant's hands.
+"And you saw him? Tell me everything!"
+
+"He is happy," answered Pierre. "But, master, let me tell my story in my
+own way, for then I shall forget nothing. I went into a little inn,
+which was as clean as possible and bore the sign, 'France!' A fire of
+vine branches was sparkling in the big chimney. A boy of about ten came
+to meet me. 'My friend,' I said, 'is this the inn of Monsieur Simon?'"
+
+"'Yes, sir,' he replied, looking at me with soft, dark eyes. I felt as
+if I had seen him before."
+
+"What! do you mean----" cried the Marquis.
+
+"Wait, master, wait. I told him that I wanted supper and a bed. The boy
+ran toward a little door and called: 'Mamma! Mamma!' A woman appeared in
+peasant dress, with dark hair and eyes. She carried a little girl on one
+arm. The mother looked about thirty, and the girl was some six years of
+age.
+
+"'Take a chair, sir,' said the mistress of the house. 'We will do the
+best we can for you.' Then she told the boy to take the horse to the
+stable and call his father. I took my seat by the fire and reflected
+that Simon would not be likely to know me, if it were he, as he had not
+seen me for thirty years. You had bidden me take care not to betray
+myself, but I knew that Time had done his work.
+
+"'The country about here looks very dreary,' I said to Madame Simon. She
+turned in surprise from her work. She was laying the table for my
+supper.
+
+"'Ah! you are a stranger here!' she answered with a smile. 'No, it is
+not dreary; it is much pleasanter here than in the cities.'
+
+"'But in winter?' I persisted.
+
+"'Oh! the mountains are magnificent then.'
+
+"'Have you been living here long, Madame?'
+
+"'Ten years,' she replied.
+
+"'And these beautiful children are yours?'
+
+"She hesitated a moment, or I thought so, but she said in a moment:
+
+"'Yes, they are mine, and you will see their father presently, the best
+man in this place!' She brought in a bowl of steaming soup. 'Excuse the
+simplicity of the service, sir.' The door opened, and, master, if it had
+been in Africa, or thousands of miles from France, I should have known
+Simonne's son. He had his great deep eyes, but, master----"
+
+Pierre stopped short.
+
+"Go on; you frighten me!" cried the Marquis.
+
+"Oh! master, Monsieur Simon has lost a leg. I saw it at once, and the
+tears came to my eyes. He lost it at Elchingen, in 1805--it was shot off
+by a cannon ball."
+
+The Marquis started.
+
+"And his brother was there, too!" he murmured. "Go on, Pierre."
+
+"I knew him at once, as I was saying. He is tall, he is strong; his hair
+is turning gray, and he wears a heavy moustache, and was dressed in
+peasant costume. He came to me, and said in a voice that was so like his
+mother's: 'You are welcome!' I extended my hand, he did not seem to be
+astonished, and received it cordially. I went to the table, and while I
+ate my soup I watched him closely. He took the little girl up in his
+arms, and began to talk to her in a low voice, and the child listened
+intently. I could not hear what was said, but presently the child came
+running to me.
+
+"'Monsieur,' she cried, 'will you do me a favor?'
+
+"'Certainly,' I replied.
+
+"'Will you drink with papa to the French army?'
+
+"'Most gladly!' I answered, wondering at the same time if Simon took me
+for a spy. The mere idea made me feel ill, and I wanted to tell him who
+I was, when he came to the table with a couple of glasses.
+
+"'To the success of our arms shall be our toast, sir!' he said. I
+answered, as I raised my glass to my lips: 'To France!' His eyes flashed
+with joy. These words had evidently conquered his distrust.
+
+"'Would it be indiscreet to ask, sir, by what strange chance you are in
+this wild place?'
+
+"I told him, for I had to lie, that I had lost my way. He looked at me a
+moment.
+
+"'You come from Germany, do you not?'
+
+"'Are you a sorcerer?' I exclaimed.
+
+"'No--it is plain to see that by the cut and the material of your
+clothing. But is it true,' he continued rapidly, 'that the allied armies
+are about to cross the frontier?'
+
+"'Alas! I fear so. But you do not know our last disaster, then?'
+
+"'Fortune has betrayed us, but patience--patience!'
+
+"'Do you think that further resistance is possible?' I asked.
+
+"'I am a soldier of France!' was his proud reply. 'I believe in my
+banner and my country!' He then asked me many questions, and finally one
+that made my heart leap to my throat.
+
+"'Is it true that the French emigrés have accepted positions in these
+foreign armies?' I protested my ignorance. He passed his hand over his
+brow, as if to chase away unfortunate doubts, and I changed the
+conversation.
+
+"'These lovely children are yours?' I asked.
+
+"'Yes--and this is my wife, Françoise Simon, the best of women, who has
+consoled me in many sorrows, and this is Jacques, my eldest, and you
+know Francinette. Perhaps you will give me your name now?'
+
+"'One moment--you have not introduced yourself.'
+
+"'I am called Simon,' he answered with a frown.
+
+"'Simon--and nothing else?'
+
+"'Nothing else. If I ever bore another name, I have forgotten it. I
+fought in 1791. I was wounded and compelled to leave the service.' He
+spoke with some nervousness.
+
+"'Are your parents living?' I asked. He looked at me intently, and
+pouring out a glass of wine, he carried it to his lips with a steady
+hand.
+
+"'I never knew them,' he replied.
+
+"We talked for some time, and he told me that after he recovered from
+his wound he entered the service of a rich farmer, and soon saved enough
+to lease a small farm for himself, where he carried on his small
+business as an inn and kept a school, 'for,' he said, 'I had received a
+good education, and wished to do something for the children about me.'
+
+"It was midnight before I went to my room, and I arose as soon as I
+heard a movement below, but, early as it was, Simon had already gone
+out. I felt that I must return to you without waiting to see him again.
+I had formed a plan which I trust you will approve of. I went to the
+Mayor and obtained a copy of Simon's papers. You know since the new code
+any one can get such papers, and I said something about a lawsuit."
+
+"And you have these papers?"
+
+"Yes--in a portfolio in my breast."
+
+He touched his breast as he spoke and uttered an exclamation of pain. "I
+had forgotten," he said, and then told his master of the attack made on
+him in the Black Forest.
+
+"That is very strange," said the Marquis, thoughtfully.
+
+"At all events, I wounded him," Pierre replied.
+
+At this moment there was a sound just outside the door. The Marquis
+threw it open quickly, but there was nothing to be seen.
+
+"I was sure I heard--"
+
+"This old, worm-eaten wood makes strange noises when the dampness gets
+into it," said Pierre.
+
+The Marquis read the papers carefully which Pierre now gave him.
+
+"But there were two children at the time?" he said to Pierre. "Where is
+the certificate of the birth of Jacques?"
+
+Pierre hesitated. "When Simon and Françoise were married," he answered,
+reluctantly, "Jacques was already born."
+
+"And now," said the Marquis, "I must make some change in my will. My
+poor boy, in these papers, does not give his real name, nor the place of
+his birth, but we will soon remedy that."
+
+"But why do you talk of your will! You must see your son, master, and
+then you can make all things right."
+
+"I have grown very old lately, and have little strength left, but I hope
+to embrace my son Simon before I die; but I am in the hands of God. I
+wish to incorporate these papers in my will and then there will be no
+difficulty in proving Simon's relationship."
+
+"But what do you fear?" asked Pierre.
+
+The Marquis looked at him.
+
+"Why this question? You know as well as I."
+
+"Do you think that the Vicomte would have the audacity--"
+
+The Marquis laid his hand on his servant's breast.
+
+"There is no peasant," he said, slowly and emphatically, "no peasant in
+these parts who is capable of such a crime."
+
+Pierre bowed his head; he understood.
+
+"And this is not all," continued his master, "a will may be lost, may be
+stolen. I wish to provide for everything, and wish that Simon and his
+children shall be rich."
+
+The Marquis went on speaking in so low a voice that no one but the
+servant could possibly hear.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI.
+
+FRATERNAL THOUGHTS.
+
+
+When the Marquise, her daughter-in-law, and grandson left the salon, a
+servant attached especially to the service of the Vicomte approached.
+
+"Madame la Vicomtesse," said Cyprien, "my master wishes to see you; he
+is in his chamber."
+
+"Go, my child," interposed the Marquise, "but leave the boy with me, for
+I hate to be alone in these rooms which are drearier than a cloister."
+
+The Vicomtesse de Talizac was of Austrian origin, and concealed under an
+air of languid indifference the most boundless ambition. Her large eyes
+were light and generally without expression, but on occasion they grew
+dark and flashed fire.
+
+She had married the Vicomte de Talizac with the idea that she would thus
+obtain a high position at the French Court, knowing well moreover that
+the immense fortune of the Fongereueses would ensure her princely
+luxury. The Vicomtesse was both proud and avaricious, and her nature
+rebelled at the smallest check to her secret aspirations. Her only son
+came into the world hopelessly deformed, but his mother adored him to
+whom Nature had given neither physical nor moral beauty. She labored to
+make him as selfish and indifferent as herself. She determined that as
+he grew to man's estate, he should be feared rather than pitied, and to
+do this it was necessary that he should be immensely rich. He was taught
+from his cradle to hate France. When his mother saw that the hour of
+triumph for the emigrés, the traitors, was near at hand, she was filled
+with bitter joy.
+
+None of these people realized the work that had been going on for twenty
+years, and had little idea of the changes that had taken place. They
+ignored them all, and were only anxious to restore everything to the old
+condition.
+
+The Vicomte de Talizac and his wife were especially eager for these
+results. There was but one shadow on their brilliant future. The fortune
+of the Vicomte had nearly gone--the fortune of the Fongereues family
+remained, but the Vicomte was well aware that his father had contracted
+an early marriage, and that of this union a son was born, with whom, to
+be sure, the old Marquis seemed to have broken entirely, but of late de
+Talizac began to realize that the father's love had outlived this
+separation; and, moreover, indulged in no possible delusion in regard to
+himself; he did not love his father, and knew that his father did not
+love him. Madame de Fongereues was also well aware of the tender
+reverence in which Simonne was held by the Marquis, and was convinced
+that the peasant's son was not forgotten.
+
+Where was Simon? Were he to appear it would be ruin for the Vicomte.
+When Magdalena fully realized this, she snatched her son in her arms,
+and said to his father:
+
+"If you are not weak and childish, this Simon will never despoil our
+son!"
+
+De Talizac understood her.
+
+We resume our recital at the moment when the Vicomtesse entered her
+husband's room, where he was lying on the couch. He signed to her to
+close the door. The Marquis was the living image of his mother, except
+that her beautiful regular features became in his face bony and
+repulsive.
+
+"Well?" said the Vicomtesse, going up to the couch.
+
+"I am wounded," he answered. "The man escaped me."
+
+His wife frowned.
+
+"Really!" she said, "one might think that the Vicomte de Talizac was
+strong enough to conquer a lacquey!"
+
+"Hush!" cried the Vicomte, his eyes flashing fire, "do you think that I
+require you to remind me of the shame of my defeat? I have been for
+days, as you well know, on the track of the hound. I hid by the wayside
+to-night, like a murderer, and I saw him press his hand to his breast as
+if to assure himself of the safety of some package which undoubtedly
+contained the secret so necessary to the safety of our future. By what
+miracle the fellow escaped, I can't divine. I saw him fall forward, but
+he suddenly fired at me--but I did at all events as I promised you to
+do--"
+
+"I can only say that our son is ruined!"
+
+"No, not yet; listen to me. Pierre is with my father at this moment;
+hasten and listen to the conversation."
+
+"But he is locked in his room!"
+
+"I know that, Magdalena. Raise that curtain; you will find a door which
+opens on a staircase in the wall; go down twenty steps, then stop, pass
+your hand over the wall until you feel a spring; press it, and it will
+open. You will find a small window concealed within the room by the
+carving, and you can hear every word that is spoken--"
+
+"Very good; but your wound--"
+
+"Is not of much consequence; but hasten, for your son's sake."
+
+The Vicomtesse disappeared.
+
+This explains the noise that had attracted the attention of the Marquis.
+
+An hour later Magdalena returned to her husband. "I know enough," she
+said. "Your brother Simon is married--he has two sons, and lives in the
+village of Leigoutte."
+
+A cruel smile wandered over the lips of the Vicomte.
+
+"Ah! the invasion will then take that direction!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII.
+
+THE VILLAGE.
+
+
+On the 1st of January, 1814, it was known that foreign forces had
+invaded France. It was a terrible surprise when fugitives passed through
+the villages crying, "Save yourselves, while there is yet time!"
+
+Mothers wept for their sons, wives for their husbands, sisters for their
+brothers!
+
+The winter was a severe one. The Vosges mountains and the villages in
+the valleys were alike wrapped in snow.
+
+The inn which our readers already know at Leigoutte, presented a most
+picturesque appearance. The snow had been so heavy for several days that
+the woodcutters had not been up the mountains to bring down the wood,
+but this morning they had determined to make an attempt, and had
+gathered before the inn with their long light sledges on their
+shoulders. They seemed to be waiting for some one. "Can Simon be sick?"
+asked one of these men, finally.
+
+"Not he!" answered another. "He is at the school-room with the children,
+and he never knows when to leave them."
+
+"Oh! that is very well," grumbled a third, "but I think we had better
+go in and get a glass of wine, than wait here all this time."
+
+"Have a little patience, friend; if Simon teaches our children, it is
+that they may be better off than their fathers, and not like them be
+compelled to die with cold and fatigue some day among the mountains!"
+
+"Well said, friend, well said!" called out a full rich voice.
+
+Every one turned. The door of the school-room was open, and he who had
+spoken was standing with arms outspread to prevent the children from
+rushing out too hastily on the slippery ice.
+
+"Not so quick, children," he cried. "You can't fly over the snow like
+lapwings."
+
+A boy of about ten repeated these words to the smaller children.
+
+"That is right, Jacques," said Simon, "begin early, for you may have
+this school some day yourself!"
+
+"Good morning, Master Simon," said one of the woodcutters, taking off
+his hat, "we were just saying that we should like something warm before
+we started."
+
+"And you are right. I beg your pardon for keeping you waiting. I was
+just telling the children about a battle of the Republic at Valmy."
+
+"Take my arm, sir," cried one of the woodcutters. "That wooden leg of
+yours is not very safe on the ice."
+
+"Am I not here?" asked Jacques, in a vexed voice, "can I not look out
+for my father?"
+
+Simon laughed.
+
+"But why," he asked, "have you not asked for wine at the inn?"
+
+"Because we heard that the little girl was ill, sir--"
+
+"Oh! it is nothing of any consequence--there she is, as rosy and smiling
+as ever."
+
+When Simon's voice was heard, the inn awoke from its silence. A woman
+appeared on the threshold holding in her arms a pretty little creature
+about six years old.
+
+The mother was a simple peasant woman, wearing a peasant's dress. She
+began to fill glasses for these woodcutters, who addressed her with a
+cordial good morning.
+
+At this moment the door was hastily opened, and a man appeared on the
+threshold. The woodcutters uttered a cry of surprise. The man was a
+soldier, who leaned against the wall and did not speak.
+
+Simon hurried forward. "You are welcome, comrade," he exclaimed.
+
+The man turned pale, and but for Simon's support, he would have fallen
+on the floor.
+
+"Françoise, a chair!" cried the innkeeper.
+
+The soldier had his head wrapped in a blue handkerchief, and drops of
+blood were upon his cheek. His uniform was in rags, and a linen bandage
+was wrapped around one leg.
+
+The men looked on with terrified respect while Simon tried to make him
+drink a glass of wine, and signed to Jacques to take off the soldier's
+shoes, now covered with snow.
+
+The soldier uttered a deep sigh of relief. He was a peasant of about
+forty, although his moustache was gray. His features bore the traces of
+suffering and privations.
+
+"Some brandy!" he gasped.
+
+Little Francinette carried the glass to him. He drank it, looking the
+while at the child with admiration and sad envy. Then taking her on his
+knee, he looked around him at the honest faces, and said:
+
+"My name is Michel--Michel Charmoze. There are thirty of us down on the
+road, all wounded, in a big wagon. The horses have fallen, one is dead,
+and we have come for help."
+
+The woodcutters looked from one to the other in amazement.
+
+"What!" cried the soldier, "do you know nothing in this land of snow? I
+have been fighting three months on the Rhine. The Emperor has deserted
+us. All is over!"
+
+The peasants listened in a stupefied sort of way. Only the vaguest
+rumors had as yet reached the peasants that Napoleon's star had begun to
+pale. Simon knew it, but he had held his peace.
+
+"Where are the wounded?" he asked, quietly.
+
+"A quarter of a league down the road."
+
+"My friends," said Simon, "we have no horses, but your arms are strong.
+You must save these Frenchmen!"
+
+"We are ready!" shouted twenty voices.
+
+"Father, may I go, too?" asked Jacques, eagerly.
+
+"Yes," said Simon, kindly. "You may go, and take some brandy with you."
+
+The woodcutters took also shovels, sticks and ropes.
+
+"When they come back," said Simon to his wife, "you must have a good
+meal ready. Carry straw into the school-room, tear up your old sheets
+into bandages, and send to Wisembach for the doctor."
+
+"But the child--what am I to do with her?" asked Françoise, timidly.
+
+"Oh! I will look out for her," cried the soldier. "I had a little girl
+of my own, but since I have been away, both mother and child have died!"
+
+Simon and Michel were alone for a few moments. The little girl still sat
+on the soldier's knee, gravely enlarging one of the holes in his uniform
+with her busy little fingers.
+
+"Then the invaders are in France?" said Simon.
+
+"They are, indeed, but they won't stay long--be sure of that!"
+
+"What army is it that is advancing in this direction?" asked Simon.
+
+"Schwartzemberg's, with Russians, Prussians and Austrians."
+
+"How far off are they?"
+
+"Not more than ten leagues. We were nearly overtaken by them. They would
+not have got thus far had we not been betrayed by everybody. Those dogs
+of Royalists have felt no shame to be seen with these enemies of
+France!"
+
+Simon started.
+
+"Do you mean," he asked sternly, "that the emigrés have dared----"
+
+"Yes, they have dared to do just that!" and Michel swore a frightful
+oath. "I believe that there are Frenchmen who would lead these savages
+on, to roast and kill their own mothers!"
+
+Simon had become deadly pale.
+
+"Yes," continued the soldier. "Let me tell you about this wound." And he
+tore off the handkerchief around his head. His eyes at that moment fell
+on Simon's wooden leg, which he had not before seen. "Ah! you are one of
+us, then?" exclaimed Michel.
+
+Simon nodded. "Go on with your story, my friend," he said.
+
+"Well, we had just crossed the Rhine, and were getting on famously when
+we saw the detachment that had attacked us. I knew by their caps that
+they were Russians. We sheltered ourselves behind a wall, and then we
+let fly. I tell you, that was a fight! In front of me was a tall fellow
+who fought like the very devil. I pricked him with a bayonet, and he
+opened his arms wide and yelled--good Lord! I hear that yell now--'I am
+killed! Here! help for Talizac!' He shot at me the same moment. Now,
+friend, was not that a French name? But what is the matter with you?"
+
+Simon had dropped into a chair. He was as white as a sheet, and his eyes
+were fixed on vacancy.
+
+The soldier looked at him for a moment. "Come!" he said, "give me
+another glass, and we will drink to our country!"
+
+At this moment Françoise came in hurriedly.
+
+"Simon!" she cried, "the peasants are coming here from every direction.
+They say that the foreigners are coming this way, and they bid us fly!"
+
+Simon went to the door. Françoise had spoken the truth. On all the roads
+and on all the mountain paths crowds were seen of men, women and
+children.
+
+If the rout of an army is terrible, that of a people is infinitely more
+so. This flight from home and fireside is sad beyond expression. These
+peasants were running, carrying on their shoulders all that they held
+most precious. Their houses had been searched, for these peasants had
+served in the rising of '92, and they probably had arms. An old man was
+shot for concealing a pistol. At another place brutes had insulted the
+women, and burned the cottages deserted by the fugitives. This was the
+day that Napoleon Bonaparte had replied to the _corps legislatif_, who
+supplicated him to return to the people their lost liberty: "France is a
+man!--I am that man--with my will, my fame, and my power!"
+
+The woodcutters now returned, dragging the huge wagon they had dug out
+of the snow-drifts. Simon rapidly explained to several peasants the
+preparations he had made, and under his instructions they hastened to
+remove the wounded from the wagon. It was a terrible sight--eleven out
+of the twenty-eight were dead. But in fifteen minutes the living were
+lying on the fresh straw spread in the school-room, and Simon and his
+wife were going from one to another of these poor sufferers, alleviating
+their sufferings as far as possible. Suddenly a great noise was heard
+without, followed by the most profound silence. Simon started.
+
+"What was that!" he asked, quickly.
+
+The door opened, and Michel appeared.
+
+"The Cossacks!" he cried. "Come, Master Simon, come!"
+
+Simon obeyed, signing to his wife to take his place. He went outside,
+and beheld some twenty men mounted on thin but vigorous-looking horses.
+The men were of medium height, bearded like goats and ugly as monkeys.
+They wore loose robes fastened into the waists with red scarfs. On their
+heads were high cylindrical caps. Some wore over their shoulders cloaks
+of bear skins. Their high saddles formed boxes in which they could pack
+away their booty. They looked down on the crowd with small, twinkling
+eyes set far in under bushy brows and low foreheads. At their head was
+an officer in the Austrian uniform.
+
+The crowd fled to the further end of the open space, and the women
+clasped their crying children to their breasts. Simon walked directly
+toward the officer.
+
+"Who are you, and what do you want?" he asked, politely but firmly.
+
+The officer did not seem to hear him--he was looking intently at the
+inn. Simon repeated his question, this time in German. The Austrian then
+concluded to look at him.
+
+"Is this village Leigoutte?" he asked. "And is that your inn?" And the
+soldier pointed to the inn.
+
+"What business is that of yours?" asked Simon, who by this time had
+become excessively angry.
+
+"Give my men something to drink."
+
+Simon clenched his hands as he replied:
+
+"I never give anything to the enemies of my country!"
+
+The Cossacks understood him and uttered a groan.
+
+"We shall take it by force, then!" said the officer, spurring his horse
+toward Simon, but the latter pulled out a pistol and pointed it at the
+Austrian.
+
+"One step further!" he shouted, "and I will blow out your brains!"
+
+The Austrian pulled up his steed, and saying a few words to his men,
+they turned their horses and departed.
+
+"We shall see you again!" shouted the Austrian, over his shoulder.
+
+The peasants uttered a shout of joy, but Simon was very thoughtful.
+
+"Why," said he, to himself, "should there be a reconnoissance expressly
+for this village?"
+
+The men now crowded around Simon.
+
+"You frightened them well!" they said. "How ugly they are!" They
+laughed, and seemed to think all danger was past.
+
+Simon and Michel exchanged a look, then the former raised his hand to
+command silence.
+
+"My friends," he said, "they will return, and bring many more with them.
+Those among you who are not afraid to fight, may remain with me. But we
+must see at once about a place of safety for the women and children. It
+will be easy for twenty or thirty of us to keep these invaders from
+coming to this point again, for we know each mountain path. We have
+arms, for I long since concealed one hundred guns in my house, and
+these mountains--the ramparts of France, shall become inaccessible
+citadels. The enemy will approach in a compact column; we must send out
+scouts who will keep us informed. It is too late to-day for the attack
+to take place. Two of you will go to the neighboring villages and give
+the alarm. We will meet to-morrow at the Iron Cross. And remember,
+children, that in '92, as to-day, the invaders threatened France, and
+your fathers drove them out. May the children of those men be worthy of
+them!"
+
+"But about the women and children?" asked Michel.
+
+"They must be hidden in the farm-houses up the mountains. The wounded
+are protected by the code of war. Courage, then, and shout with me Vive
+la France!"
+
+These words aroused immense enthusiasm for a few minutes.
+
+Simon felt a hand on his; it was Françoise, with her little girl in her
+arms, and Jacques at her side.
+
+"We shall not leave you, Simon," said his wife. "But I wish to speak to
+you a moment."
+
+Simon looked at her in surprise. Then turning to Michel, "You will
+complete the arrangements. Jacques will show you where the arms are
+stored."
+
+"Rely on us, Simon!" shouted the peasants. "We will do our duty!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII.
+
+THE PAST OF FRANÇOISE.
+
+
+Simon followed his wife into the house. She closed the door behind her.
+Simon was struck by the strange expression in her face. Was it anxiety
+for him that had clouded that placid brow?
+
+"Friend," said Françoise, "you must know all. I saw that Austrian
+officer from the window, and recognized him--"
+
+"Recognized him!"
+
+"Yes, for the man who dishonored my sister that fatal night of the 16th
+of May, 1804, at Sachemont, was not alone. He was accompanied by the
+Count of Karlstein, the man whom you have just seen. I cannot dwell upon
+the terrors of that night. I escaped--but my poor sister! Nor did I ever
+speak of that man to you. I felt that Talizac was enough for us to
+hate."
+
+"Yes, dear, I see; and I, too, have something to tell, for, when after
+long months in the hospital at Dresden, I was permitted to leave it, I
+wandered, I know not where; but I reached a hut--it was in February,
+1805--I saw a light and knocked. There was no answer, and I opened the
+door and went in. To my horror, I beheld a woman dead, and heard an
+infant screaming its heart out."
+
+"Poor little Jacques!" said Françoise, weeping.
+
+"I saw a cup of milk on the table; I gave some to the infant. Presently
+you came in, and did not seem astonished to find the child in my arms.
+The physician you had gone to seek looked at the poor woman, said she
+was dead, and that he could do nothing. We were left alone together. It
+seemed as if you trusted me at once. Your hands trembled, and it was I
+who closed the eyes of the dead. The next day we followed the poor girl
+to the grave, and when one of the rough peasants who bore the bier on
+which she lay, asked you who I was, you answered simply, 'A friend!'
+
+"After we returned to the hut, I asked you who the dead girl was, and
+then you pronounced the name of Talizac, and heard that a gentleman of
+France had conducted himself like a base coward--"
+
+"But an honorable man said to me, 'Shall we repair the crime of another?
+Shall we not give this little one a home and a family?' I became your
+wife, your happy, honored companion, and poor Jacques will never know
+that he owes his life to a base profligate."
+
+Simon laid his hand on his wife's head.
+
+"Do you know why Simon Fougère wished to make reparation for the crime
+of the Vicomte de Talizac?"
+
+"Because Simon Fougère had a loyal and generous heart!"
+
+"Because," said Simon, in solemn tones, "because the Vicomte de Talizac
+is my brother!"
+
+"Your brother! But who, then, are you?"
+
+"The son of the Marquis de Fongereues," and in a few words Simon
+explained to his wife the situation already known to our readers.
+
+"I reproach myself," concluded Simon, "for having so long concealed my
+name from you. I have not seen my father since I was a boy. I am
+indebted to him for a few years of happiness, but he was under the
+influence of others who awakened in him the pride of race. He has
+forgotten the Republican soldier, and has never cared to know whether I
+lived or died, since the day that he offered me a princely fortune, rank
+and title, to fight against France. But to return to this man, you are
+sure he is the friend and accomplice of Talizac?"
+
+"I am sure."
+
+"I have never seen my brother, but I know him to be one of the bitterest
+enemies France has. He has fought against us, and I have heard that he
+is nearly ruined. Painful as such suspicions are, I am tempted to
+believe that the appearance of this Karlstein in this out of the way
+place, is due to the fact that this renegade brother of mine has hunted
+me up, knowing that at my father's death I can claim my inheritance. I
+feel as if we were the cause of this attack on Leigoutte, which is
+really directed on the heir of the Fongereueses."
+
+"Horrible!" murmured Françoise.
+
+"Yes, this officer asked me if this inn belonged to me. Dear wife, it is
+now doubly our duty to take every measure for the protection of these
+people. You must take the children away. I must remain with these
+peasants. I wish you to go to the farm of old Father Lasvène--"
+
+"Yes, I know, a league away, in the Outremont gorge."
+
+"I will take you there. Lasvène is a man of sense, and will not be
+guilty of any imprudence."
+
+Suddenly Francinette, who was looking out of a window, uttered a shrill
+cry, and ran to her mother.
+
+"What is it?" exclaimed Simon, rushing to the window, which he threw
+open, but could see nothing.
+
+Françoise soothed the little girl and questioned her.
+
+The child, still wild with fear, pointed to the window. "A man! a bad
+man!"
+
+The father lifted her in his arms.
+
+"No, no," he said, "little Francinette was dreaming. There was no one
+there!"
+
+"Yes, I saw him; he climbed over the wall!"
+
+Simon took his gun and went out. Presently he returned, and with a look
+towards his wife that contradicted his words, he said, "No, it is
+nothing."
+
+At the same time he wrote a few words on a bit of paper, and laid it on
+the table near his wife. This is what she read:
+
+"The child is right; there are footprints on the wall--a spy
+undoubtedly." He said aloud: "And now, wife, make haste; there is no
+time to lose. Francinette, go to the other window and see if your
+brother is anywhere about. And Françoise," Simon continued rapidly, "I
+do not think that our separation will last long, yet it is well to be
+prepared for everything. All my secret and family papers are in this
+portfolio. Take every care of it. And now, kiss me--let no one see you
+weep!"
+
+Michel and Jacques now entered.
+
+"Well, Michel, what think you of our recruits?" asked Simon, cheerfully.
+
+"Oh, they are born soldiers, and your boy Jacques is as bright as a
+button!"
+
+Simon drew his child toward him.
+
+"My boy, I meant to take your mother and sister to some place of safety,
+but I am needed here. You must go in my stead."
+
+"Am I not to remain with you, father?" asked the boy, greatly
+disappointed.
+
+"No--you are to take care of all that is most precious to me in the
+world. God bless you all!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX.
+
+WHERE THE INVASION PASSES.
+
+
+Never was there solitude more complete and more magnificent than at five
+o'clock that January morning among the Vosges mountains. The snow was
+piled up, softening the rugged outlines of the mountain peaks and
+through the pale darkness dim shadows were silently moving. These
+shadows are the brave mountaineers, who have come to defend France at
+the summons of Simon, who, in spite of his wooden leg, displayed immense
+activity. Among these there were no youths. The conscription had long
+since swallowed them up. They were elderly men and boys. Two of them
+were but fourteen, but they were vigorous and determined.
+
+"We have arrived in time," said Simon, "but you are sure that there is
+no other road by which they can reach the village?"
+
+"Only the one by which the wagon came with the wounded, but that, too,
+is well guarded."
+
+"Yes," answered Simon, "a few brave fellows could keep an army back
+there, and you know we are continually receiving reinforcements. As soon
+as they understand that the gorge is impracticable, they will give up
+the point, and we shall feel that we have rendered effectual aid to
+France."
+
+In the souls of these patriots there was a singular instinct of
+discipline. They listened in silence to Simon's words, and obeyed him
+whom they had taken for their leader without question or argument.
+
+Simon called two men and bade them climb the high rocks on one side of
+the gorge. From thence they could look down the whole valley. The mists
+of the night had slowly drifted away, and the wind had died out. A gleam
+of sunshine, as pale as moonlight, rested on the mountain top.
+
+The mountaineers waited long on the rocks, whither they had been sent,
+but returned to say that there was not a sound nor a movement.
+
+"Let us go on," said Simon.
+
+The gorge now became so narrow that only three men could move abreast.
+On each side rose high walls.
+
+"Now, then," said Simon, "hide here. Keep your eyes open, and waste no
+ammunition. And you others will pass through that cleft which commands
+the lower road. Conceal yourselves well, and as soon as a Cossack
+appears, fire. Hans!"
+
+A peasant ran at the sound of his name.
+
+"If you hear firing from either of these posts, you are to advance at
+once with twenty men. Select them now, so that there will be no
+confusion."
+
+Michel listened to these orders in silence.
+
+"Well, comrade," said Simon, "what do you think of my arrangements?"
+
+"They are excellent, and you ought to be a general."
+
+"I could serve only the Republic," answered Simon, "I resigned in
+1804."
+
+Michel looked at him as if he did not more than half understand, then he
+muttered, reluctantly:
+
+"Well, every man is entitled to his opinions."
+
+"Now that our arrangements are made, we two will go on," said Simon.
+
+They walked for some five minutes and reached the entrance of the gorge.
+There the road suddenly widened, and gently descended to the valley. On
+the left there was an enormous rock forty feet high. It was shaped like
+a pyramid standing on its apex. Simon went round it, feeling with his
+hands, tearing off bits of moss from time to time.
+
+"Ah! we have it. Here, Michel, dig out this place with your bayonet!"
+
+Michel obeyed, though without the smallest idea of what was to be done,
+and soon a hole of about a square foot was discovered.
+
+"Now," said Simon, triumphantly, "I defy the Cossacks to pass this
+point!"
+
+He laid on the ground a box that he had been carrying over his shoulder
+with great care.
+
+"I have ten pounds of powder here!"
+
+He proceeded to place this box in the hole, which it entirely filled.
+Then he produced a long wick, one end of which he inserted in the box.
+Then he nearly closed the box, leaving it only sufficiently open for the
+wick to burn easily.
+
+"If our guns fail us," said Simon, grimly, "this will soon settle the
+matter!"
+
+At this moment, from out of the woods on the side of the road sprang a
+man, shouting:
+
+"Save me! Save me!"
+
+Simon saw that the fellow was a gipsy, and that he had been wounded.
+
+"Save me!" repeated the gipsy, "they will kill me!"
+
+"Zounds! fellow," cried Michel, "who are you afraid of? I believe you
+are a spy!"
+
+Simon motioned to Michel to be silent, and questioned the man who
+proceeded to say that he and his companions had been seized to act as
+guides through the forest.
+
+"We refused," he said, "because you French had always been good to us.
+Then the soldiers killed one after the other of us as fast as we
+refused, and I ran away. They fired at me, and wounded me in the head.
+Oh! save me!"
+
+Neither Simon nor Michel noticed the almost theatrical exaggeration of
+this fellow's gestures.
+
+"The Cossacks are near?" asked Simon. "How many?"
+
+"About five hundred."
+
+"On this road?"
+
+"Yes. Hark!"
+
+The three men listened, and distinctly heard the smothered footfall of
+horses in the snow.
+
+"They are coming!" said Simon.
+
+The Bohemian crouched against the rock, and hiding his face, shivered
+with fear.
+
+Simon entered the gorge, and carrying his fingers to his lips made a
+noise that sounded like the hoarse caw of a crow. Other signals answered
+this, showing that all were ready.
+
+Simon stood listening. The sounds came nearer and nearer, and,
+presently, some fifty yards away, appeared the Cossacks. They came
+slowly, uneasy at the profound silence. Simon aimed at the leader, fired
+and the Cossack fell. Frightful yells filled the air, but they continued
+to advance.
+
+Then from every rock and tree came a rain of balls, the echoes from the
+granite walls making the invaders suppose that the opposing force was a
+hundred times what it really was.
+
+The Cossacks were ready enough to return the fire, but they saw no
+enemy; not a human being. Still they moved on, closing up their ranks,
+and their horses trampling on the dead bodies of their comrades. They
+reached the gorge. The peasants, sure of their prey, now forgot all
+prudence, and showed themselves. The Cossacks, with cries of rage,
+answered their fusillade. The scene was an absolute butchery.
+
+Suddenly, a man in the uniform of the Helmans waved his sword, and the
+Cossacks pulled up their horses and turned them with inconceivable
+dexterity. This movement showed the length of their column. The gipsy
+was right, there were hundreds.
+
+Simon, at this moment, uttered the exclamation:
+
+"Back with you!" he cried. "To your places among the rocks!"
+
+The mountaineers had seen the Cossacks fall, and all the old hatred that
+had sent their fathers to the Rhine in '92, again sprang to life in
+their veins. They rushed from out their shelter, regardless of danger.
+They heard Simon's voice, but did not understand his order, their rage
+deafened them. They had hitherto been amenable to discipline, but they
+were intoxicated by victory. It seemed to them that they could crush the
+invasion then and there. In vain did Simon shout "Halt!" They went on,
+and reached the rock.
+
+"I don't like this," said Simon. "This retreat of the Cossacks looks
+like a ruse. Our men must go no further."
+
+Then took place a horrible thing. The peasants were trying to crowd
+through the narrow passage by the rock. They were in such haste that
+they formed a struggling mass. Then from the dark corner rose the gipsy
+with the Judas face, and glided to the corner where hung the torch
+arranged by Simon. Presently, there was a little flash of light, and the
+gipsy threw himself far down the slope, just as a fearful explosion was
+heard. The rock split and fell upon the peasants. Of these valiant
+patriots only five remained--seven with Michel and Simon. They all stood
+nailed to the ground with horror.
+
+And back came the Cossacks at full gallop. The rock had cut off all
+retreat. These seven men were between the barred-up gorge and the
+Cossacks.
+
+Michel was the first to fall pierced by a lance. Simon realized that
+these men will reach his home, his wife and children, before he was
+nailed to the trunk of an oak by a Cossack's sword, and now Simon is
+dead!
+
+Over this body of this hero, rolls the horrible flood that is to engulf
+France.
+
+Talizac, Simon's brother, had said that the invasion should take this
+direction!
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X.
+
+THE HUT AT OUTREMONT.
+
+
+How did the Cossacks ever discover that poor little hut sheltered among
+the rocks?
+
+Simon's wife and children reached this place, and said to old Lasvène:
+
+"Simon is fighting for France. Will you give us shelter?"
+
+Lasvène took them in with a simple "yes." They were all very weary.
+Jacques had done all in his power to protect his little sister, who was
+not in the least frightened, only curious.
+
+The old man shook out some fresh straw, gave them each a great bowl of
+smoking soup, and said:
+
+"Everything here is yours, eat and sleep."
+
+And when all was quiet the old man brought out two guns, which he had
+kept in spite of Napoleon's edict. He sat down by the fire, and began to
+clean them.
+
+Suddenly, he felt a hand--a small one--laid on his arm, and a voice
+said,
+
+"What are you doing with your guns? Do you think there is any danger
+here?"
+
+The old man hesitated for a reply, and the boy said,
+
+"Show me how to manage them, it may be useful."
+
+Lasvène hesitated a moment, but finally decided to teach little Jacques
+how to fire these long guns. The boy quickly grasped the movement. When
+he bit his first cartridge he made a wry face. When one is inexperienced
+the powder gets between the teeth.
+
+"Once more," he said, "I am not quite sure yet."
+
+When the clock struck three, Jacques could load the gun like any old
+grenadier, but he had not been permitted to fire it.
+
+"Your mother is asleep and little sister too," the old man said.
+
+Jacques did not persist.
+
+"Now lie down, my boy, and get a little sleep."
+
+At six o'clock in the morning--it was at that hour that Simon died--a
+pistol shot scattered the straw on the roof of the hut.
+
+Lasvène rushed to the door and half opening it, cried:
+
+"The Cossacks!"
+
+He knew them well, for he had been in the campaign of 1805.
+
+Jacques started to his feet, and Françoise, pale as death, clutched her
+little girl to her breast.
+
+"They are only going by," said Lasvène. "They know there is nothing to
+pillage here."
+
+Lasvène believed himself and his guests under his roof to be safe. He,
+therefore, threw open the door wide.
+
+He saw about fifty Cossacks.
+
+"I am not making any defence," he said, "what do you want?"
+
+The old soldier said this reluctantly, for the blood leaped hot in his
+veins, but he had a woman and two children there.
+
+The Cossacks sat still on their horses, and seemed to be waiting. For
+what were they waiting?
+
+Suddenly and most incomprehensibly, from behind old Lasvène came two
+shots. Two Cossacks fell. Who had fired? He ran back into the hut.
+Jacques stood near the chimney, looking at the guns which he had not
+fired. Who had?
+
+These shots were answered by a furious clamor. A volley was fired into
+the cottage. Lasvène ran to the other side of the hut, and saw two men
+running away. It was these men who fired. Both were dressed like
+gipsies, but one was Cyprien, the lacquey of Monsieur de Talizac.
+
+"We are lost!" thought Lasvène.
+
+Instantly he pulled across the door his old oaken chest, and piled
+chairs and tables upon it, the bed, everything that was movable in the
+hut. Then, snatching one gun, he said:
+
+"We must fight. Take the other!"
+
+The Cossacks were amazed, but they fired through the window.
+
+"Now!" cried Lasvène, and an officer fell. Jacques handed him the other
+gun, and loaded the first.
+
+Again a Cossack fell.
+
+Françoise rushed to the old man's side.
+
+"Save the children!" she cried.
+
+"At the peril of your life?" he asked.
+
+"Yes," was the reply of the devoted mother.
+
+"Then take the other gun!"
+
+Françoise obeyed.
+
+"Come!" said the old man to Jacques.
+
+"No," answered the boy, "they will kill mamma!"
+
+"For Simon's sake!" cried Françoise.
+
+Then Lasvène stooped to the ground, and with the aid of an iron ring
+lifted a trap door.
+
+"Down with you!" said the old man. "It is a subterranean passage, and
+leads to the Fongereues estate. You have a league to go. God guard you!"
+
+Another deafening discharge of musketry. The mother sank on her knees.
+
+"Save Francinette!" she moaned.
+
+"They have killed my mother!" sobbed the boy.
+
+"Go!" cried Lasvène, "they are coming in!"
+
+He seized the little girl and put her in her brother's arms, and
+thrusting a pistol into the hands of the little fellow, he pushed him
+toward the trap door.
+
+"Mother! Mother!" cried the boy.
+
+There was no time to lose. Lasvène lifted him by the collar and dropped
+him into the dark hole, and closed the cover. Françoise extended her
+arms to the old man. "Thanks!" she said.
+
+"We are caught like rats in a hole!" he growled.
+
+The Cossacks began to tear down the walls.
+
+"Can you walk?" said the old soldier to Françoise.
+
+"No!"
+
+"Then you must die!"
+
+"Will the children be saved?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Then do what you will!"
+
+Lasvène snatched a burning log from the fire and threw it into the
+middle of a pile of brushwood.
+
+"Fan it!" he whispered hoarsely.
+
+And Françoise dragged herself forward and fanned the flames with her
+dying breath.
+
+"Brave woman!" cried Lasvène. "And now, welcome death! Vive la France!"
+
+He poured his flask of powder on the floor. There was a terrible
+explosion.
+
+Françoise and old Lasvène have done their duty ere they died. The walls
+of the hut fall, and hide the trap door.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI.
+
+CHILDREN IN DARKNESS.
+
+
+The trap door closed on the two children, leaving them in total
+darkness. Lasvène had not thought of that.
+
+The boy hesitated. His mother had bidden him save Francinette--here was
+safety, even if there were also darkness. He kissed his little sister
+tenderly.
+
+"Can you walk, dear?" he said.
+
+"No--I am afraid!"
+
+Jacques remembered that he was ten, and that Francinette, who was only
+six, had a right to be afraid.
+
+"Afraid!" he repeated, "what is there to fear? I am not afraid!"
+
+He was not speaking the truth, but he had a vague idea that it was not
+wrong to tell a falsehood on this occasion. He placed Francinette on the
+ground, and she clung to his legs. He passed his hand over the wall, and
+they slowly crept on. The ground was slippery and the air foul. Suddenly
+Jacques tripped and fell. The little girl began to cry. Her brother had
+lost his hold on the wall, and when he gathered himself up, he missed
+the touch of those little hands.
+
+"Cinette! Cinette!" he cried.
+
+She replied with sobs, and he suddenly realized that these sobs were
+becoming fainter and fainter. Where was she?
+
+"Cinette! stand still."
+
+The voice replied:
+
+"Jacques! Oh! mamma! I want mamma!"
+
+It was plain that the child was lost, and that several paths ran from
+the point where he stood. He called to his sister again--no reply. He
+began to run, and came up against the wall. He started again, then
+stopped. He saw a red light at the end of a long gallery. This light
+came from the funeral pyre of Françoise and the old man.
+
+The boy smiled--he fancied that aid was coming. He called: "Mamma!
+Mamma!" Suddenly his hurrying feet encountered an obstacle, and he fell
+from a height. His head struck a rock, and he felt the blood stream over
+his face. Then he fainted.
+
+How long he lay there he never knew. After a while he struggled to his
+feet, and then hurried on, always away from the red light, not toward
+it. Suddenly he felt the air strike his face, and he saw the sunshine.
+The subterranean passage ended. He emerged upon a plain. An old château
+stood on the brow of a hill opposite.
+
+"If I go there," he said to himself, "I can find people who will look
+for Francinette with me."
+
+He tried to run; his foot slipped. He looked down and beheld a pool of
+blood. A dead body lay near, and then another, and another--death and
+slaughter everywhere!
+
+These were French soldiers who had been surprised and shot. Three guns
+were fastened together, holding a pot over a fire not yet entirely gone
+out.
+
+Jacques was now wild with terror; he wished he were back in the darkness
+of the subterranean passage, but still he struggled on for his little
+sister's sake. Suddenly he started. Around the neck of a soldier he saw
+a cord to which hung a bugle. Jacques made his way to the body. He
+extended his arm, then pulled it back, but impelled by the hope of
+safety, he at last succeeded in reaching the bugle without touching the
+body, but he could not take it away because of the cord. Then Jacques
+closed his eyes, and supporting himself on one hand, he placed his lips
+to the mouth of the bugle. His face was very near that of the dead
+soldier. He remembered the lessons he had received from Simon.
+
+"Tarara! Tarara!"
+
+The sound came rich and full, but the exertion had been too great.
+
+Jacques fainted, and his pale face lay on the stiff, outstretched arm of
+the dead soldier.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII.
+
+THE RISING SUN.
+
+
+That morning the worthy Schwann, whose ancestors had kept the inn known
+as the Rising Sun for one hundred and fifty years, said that in all his
+experience he had never been so busy. Three travelers, three guests in
+February! It was most amazing. And the worthy innkeeper knew that this
+was not all. Six more strangers might arrive at any moment; but when he
+was asked who these strangers were, he winked mysteriously, but looked
+highly pleased. At the hour when this chapter opens, Master Schwann had
+just witnessed a veritable slaughter in his poultry yard; pots and
+saucepans were smoking on the fire, and vigorous preparations were made
+in the kitchen.
+
+The door was suddenly thrown open, and loud laughter made the windows
+rattle. The innkeeper started, but before he could speak, he was lifted
+off his feet by the long arms of a vigorous looking young man, with a
+most enormous mouth. His costume was something wonderful; a startling
+combination of colors; a red coat, a yellow vest trimmed with huge black
+buttons, green breeches and long black hose.
+
+"Iron Jaws!" cried the innkeeper, struggling in the grasp of the
+Colossus.
+
+"Yes, my best beloved cousin, Iron Jaws it is; let me give you a good
+shake of the hand."
+
+"Not too hard!" said Schwann, plaintively.
+
+"You are not glad to see your old friend, then?"
+
+"Not so; but you are so strong that you hurt people without knowing it.
+But where are all the rest of you?"
+
+"Oh! they are coming on. I did not want to hurry Brelion and Bechette."
+
+"What! Have you those two animals yet?"
+
+"To be sure. Why not? They don't look their age."
+
+"And your wife?"
+
+Gudel, or Iron Jaws, as he was called, hesitated a moment.
+
+"Things are going smoothly there, I hope," said the innkeeper, with a
+wink.
+
+"Well! We will talk of something else, if you please!"
+
+"Oh! women, women! you have much to answer for!" sighed the innkeeper.
+
+"I was happy enough with my first wife, though, and Caillette is her
+very image."
+
+"She must be a big girl, now, it is five years since I saw her."
+
+"And she is nearly sixteen. An angel without wings!"
+
+"How does she get on with your wife?"
+
+"Oh! Roulante can't endure her!"
+
+Schwann shook his head.
+
+"Ah! my lad, you made a great mistake. I felt it when you told me that
+you were about to marry the giantess. She had something about her eyes I
+didn't like. She doesn't ill-treat Caillette, I hope?"
+
+"Not if I know it!" answered Gudel, clenching his enormous fist. "Just
+let her lay a finger on the girl, that is all!"
+
+"You need not get so excited. And now about Bobichel--how is he?"
+
+"Just the same as ever, honest and stupid."
+
+"And Robeccal?"
+
+"I mean to get rid of him for reasons of my own."
+
+"And the little boy?"
+
+Gudel shouted with laughter.
+
+"The little boy! Just wait until you see him. He is six feet, and a
+treasure. I am strong, but Fanfar is different from me. He has wrists
+and ankles like a woman, with the hands of a Duchess, but his back and
+shoulders are iron and his fingers steel. He is, moreover, as good and
+gentle as possible."
+
+"You love him as much as ever, I see."
+
+The excellent Gudel opened his mouth to speak, when with loud fife and
+horn, the wagon that held all his worldly possessions rattled up to the
+door.
+
+We will call the vehicle a chariot, as it is more complimentary than the
+title of wagon. Four huge wheels held the body of this vehicle, from
+which rose posts striped like barbers' poles, decorated with
+parti-colored curtains.
+
+Underneath the chariot hung all sorts of queer looking things--kegs of
+wine, rope, ladders, baskets, and hoops with torn covers of rose colored
+tissue paper.
+
+Bobichel must be mentioned first, as he stands on one of the shafts and
+blows a long horn. The clown is dressed all in yellow with a gray hat.
+His legs looked like matches in their striped hose. His head was small
+and pointed, his nose very long and very sharp.
+
+Behind Bobichel sits Caillette, Gudel's daughter, a pretty, dainty
+creature with light hair. She turned with a merry laugh to say something
+to a third person, who lay on a pile of bundles of all shapes and sizes,
+and smiled back upon the young girl. Still further back was a huge mass
+which might be supposed to be a woman, from the tawny locks that floated
+over the shoulders, and if out of curiosity one examined more closely, a
+large face with pendant cheeks was discovered, a retreating forehead, a
+pair of small, half closed eyes. A double, or rather a triple chin,
+rested on an enormous bosom, which seemed to have torn half the buttons
+from a much spotted cloth waist. This charming being was known as La
+Roulante, in which sobriquet was lost her real name of Charlotte Magnan.
+She was also the lawful wife of Gudel.
+
+And finally, to complete this hurried description, we must mention a
+person who followed the chariot on foot. He was short, slender and bow
+legged, very pale, and had light eyes without lashes. His scanty hair,
+as white as an albino's, escaped from a vizorless hat. His costume was
+much like his appearance; a well worn velvet coat, much too short in the
+sleeves, and long fingered hands, with one peculiarity, that the thumbs
+were as long as the fore fingers.
+
+"Ah! you have come, children, have you?" cried Gudel. "And I am
+thankful, for hunger gnaws my vitals."
+
+"And mine, too," Bobichel replied, throwing a somersault as he spoke;
+which he ended with a sudden leap on the shoulders of the good Schwann,
+who stood the shock with wonderful philosophy.
+
+But at the third shout he decided to go outside. When the giantess saw
+him, she called out, angrily:
+
+"Are you coming to help me?"
+
+Gudel looked on with concentrated rage, and as Robeccal went toward the
+chariot, he said to him:
+
+"Not another step!"
+
+"Indeed! And who will prevent me?"
+
+Gudel's eyes flashed.
+
+"Scoundrel!" he muttered under his breath.
+
+"Well! are you coming?" called La Roulante. "Give him a push and come
+on!"
+
+These words encouraged the fellow, but as he moved toward the chariot
+Iron Jaws struck him a tremendous blow in the chest. Robeccal pulled out
+a knife and leaped on Gudel, but was caught by Fanfar and tossed in the
+air as if he had been a ball. The fellow landed nearly at the side of
+the giantess, who tumbled herself off the chariot and rushed upon
+Fanfar. Schwann appeared at the door at this moment.
+
+"Dinner is ready, good people," he said, soothingly.
+
+Robeccal said a few words in a whisper to the giantess, who shrugged her
+huge shoulders and made at once to the dining-room. Gudel held out his
+arms to his daughter.
+
+"Jump, child!" he said.
+
+And the girl obeyed. The father kissed her tenderly, for the two loved
+each other very much.
+
+"Do you mean to stay there forever, Fanfar?" was Gudel's next remark.
+
+Fanfar was the person to whom Caillette had addressed her smiles. With a
+laugh he swung himself down, and hung by his wrists a moment.
+
+"Good boy!" said Gudel. "You mean to keep yourself in practice, I see."
+
+Robeccal, with his hands in his pockets, lounged into the kitchen, and
+stood watching the preparations for dinner. La Roulante sat as
+motionless as the Sphynx in the Desert. Gudel said to her, respectfully:
+
+"Are you coming?"
+
+The woman turned her eyes slowly upon him, and then, with a sniff of
+disdain, called for Robeccal, who heard the stentorian shout, but did
+not care to be disturbed in his contemplation of the spit on which the
+fowls were roasting.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII.
+
+MISCHIEF.
+
+
+While these people were repairing the fatigues of their journey, a door
+opened very softly at the end of the room. But Schwann heard it. This
+door had access to the stairs which led to the upper floor. He instantly
+hastened toward the person, who stood half concealed.
+
+This man was about forty, small, and wearing a brown cloth coat, braided
+and trimmed with Astrachan. His vest was blue, as was a neckerchief. He
+wore straps and spurs--a costume, in fact, in the last mode of 1825--and
+yet, no human being looked less like a dandy. His feet were huge, his
+hands ugly and bony. His face expressed timidity and hypocrisy. He took
+off his hat as Schwann approached. The stranger's eyes were half closed,
+as if the light from the long windows pained them--in reality, he was
+examining each face at the table.
+
+"You want breakfast, sir, I presume?" asked the innkeeper.
+
+"Yes," said the other, "yes, yes," but he did not seem to have
+understood the question, although he took a seat at one of the tables.
+
+"Give me some brandy!" he said. "I am expecting some one, and when he
+comes you will serve our breakfast up-stairs."
+
+"Very good, sir!" And Schwann walked away. "He is the intendant of some
+great lord, I fancy," he said to himself.
+
+Again the door opened, and two more customers appeared. One looked like
+a horse jockey, the other, though in citizen's dress, was without doubt
+an old soldier. His heavy gray moustache imparted a certain harshness to
+his expression, though his eyes were frank and honest.
+
+"Where shall I serve your breakfast, gentlemen?" asked the innkeeper.
+
+There was a little hesitation. The last arrivals noticed the man in the
+brown braided coat, and did not seem to like his appearance. It was
+plain that some mysterious tie existed among these travelers, however,
+for Iron Jaws, hearing the voices of the new-comers, looked up and
+exchanged a rapid glance with them.
+
+"We will eat there," said one of the two men, pointing to a table at
+some distance from the man in brown, who smiled slightly as he saw the
+gesture. He himself had been in the meantime supplied with a decanter of
+brandy, and now took some newspapers from his pocket, one of which he
+began to read, holding it in such a way that he was concealed from the
+observation of every one in the room.
+
+When Schwann brought in a delicious-looking omelette, the horse jockey
+said, in a loud voice:
+
+"Is Rémisemont far from here?"
+
+"Rémisemont! Ah! gentlemen, it is plain that you do not belong in these
+parts. It is not more than two leagues away."
+
+"Then we can easily get there this afternoon?"
+
+Schwann saw that he had made a blunder, and endeavored to retrieve it.
+
+"We had better call it three leagues, and the road is a bad one, and you
+have to ford the river. There has been a great deal of rain, and two men
+were drowned there last year; and, by the way, they looked much like
+you."
+
+"Many thanks!" And the old soldier laughed.
+
+"They didn't know the road, you see----"
+
+"But you can furnish us with a guide?"
+
+"Yes, but not to-day."
+
+"And why not?"
+
+"Because I am alone in the house."
+
+The mountebanks had by this time finished their meal. Gudel came toward
+the two men.
+
+"If these gentlemen desire it," he said, politely, "I will take them on
+early to-morrow morning in my wagon."
+
+"That is an excellent idea!" cried the innkeeper. "With Iron Jaws there
+is no danger."
+
+The strange costume worn by Gudel, and the equally strange name by which
+Schwann called him, did not seem to amaze the two strangers. They
+consulted each other with a look, and then courteously accepted the
+offer.
+
+"I give a little representation here to-night," Gudel continued, "and
+start at an early hour for Rémisemont."
+
+Nothing could have been more natural than this scene, nor that Gudel
+should have accepted the brandy and water offered him, and it would have
+been a very distrustful nature that would have suspected any secret
+understanding between Gudel and the two men with whom he was now
+drinking. Nevertheless, the man behind the newspaper, who had not lost a
+word of this dialogue, smiled until he showed every tooth in his head.
+
+The giantess and Robeccal left the room together. After a few words
+together, Robeccal returned, and asked Gudel if he wanted him again, and
+when his employer said no, that he was at liberty, he once more left the
+room. The man behind the newspaper did the same, and the two met in the
+passage.
+
+"One word, if you please," said the man in the brown coat. "Answer me
+frankly, and you shall have twenty francs. Who is Iron Jaws?"
+
+"A mountebank."
+
+"He has another name?"
+
+"Yes--Gudel."
+
+"Do you know the two men with whom he is talking?"
+
+"No."
+
+"You hate him?"
+
+"What is that to you?"
+
+"A good deal, and to you, too, if you wish him any harm. You are a
+member of his troupe?"
+
+"Not for long, you had better believe!"
+
+"Long enough to earn a few louis?"
+
+"What do you want done?"
+
+"I will tell you. If you hate this Gudel I will give you an opportunity
+to pay off your score, and I will pay you at the same time."
+
+"That is nonsense!"
+
+"All right. I am in no hurry. I can wait an hour or two."
+
+The man took a louis from his pocket and dropped it on the ground.
+Robeccal put his foot upon it. During this brief colloquy the two men
+had not looked at each other. The stranger lounged away, indifferent to
+all appearance, and Robeccal picked up the gold and disappeared in a
+different direction.
+
+Meanwhile, Gudel was talking in a low voice to his apparently new
+acquaintances. Schwann had returned to his saucepans.
+
+"Well?" said the soldier, leaning over his glass as if to smell the
+wine.
+
+"All goes well," answered Gudel. "The grain was well sown--the harvest
+waits."
+
+"We will talk elsewhere. Did you notice that fellow who sat reading over
+there in the corner?"
+
+"Yes--a bad face. A lacquey, I think."
+
+"A lacquey or a spy. Look out for him! Now, when and where can I see you
+quietly?"
+
+"To-night, after the representation, in my room or yours."
+
+"In yours, then. We will wait until the house is quiet. Leave your door
+open. And now, be careful that no one suspects our presence here!"
+
+"What! not even Fanfar? You need not distrust him. He is good, brave,
+and devoted to you."
+
+"We will talk of that later on." In a louder voice he said: "Then,
+comrade, we will accept your offer, and go with you to Rémisemont
+to-morrow."
+
+Gudel nodded, then called Fanfar.
+
+"To work, my lad," he cried. "We must stir up these excellent people in
+this village. Schwann, where is my permit from the mayor?"
+
+Schwann hurried in wiping his hands, and from under a pile of plates he
+drew out a paper.
+
+"Fanfar, sign it for me, your hand is better than mine, for the truth is
+I never learned to write. And now this is done, we must go forth and
+warn the people of the great pleasure in store for them."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV.
+
+TWO PLACES, S. V. P.
+
+
+In five minutes all the population of Saint Amé was on the Square, for
+in these Lorraine villages amusements are rare. They were watching the
+erection of an enormous shed covered with canvas and strange pictures.
+An enormous handbill with letters that could be read a hundred feet off,
+bore most astonishing inscriptions. At the top was Iron Jaws, who held
+enormous weights with his teeth. The Giantess, who ate raw pigeons, or
+any other fowl that was most convenient. The wonderful Almanzor (that
+was Robeccal,) a descendant of the Moors of Spain, crushed glass with
+his teeth and swallowed swords. Then there was Caillette, the
+rope-dancer, who charmed the world with her voice, as well as with her
+aerial lightness. And lastly, in letters of the same length as those
+which Gudel used for himself, came Fanfar's name.
+
+  "FANFAR! FANFAR! FANFAR!
+
+  "STRENGTH, SKILL, DEXTERITY.
+
+  "He knows everything. He can do everything!"
+
+And finally, there was a representation of a human pyramid, at the top
+of which was Caillette, all smiles, and a flower in her hand.
+
+The good peasants were naturally delighted with all this.
+
+Iron Jaws, with his hands in his pockets, was marching up and down,
+giving his orders like a general at the head of an army. Suddenly he
+called,
+
+"Bobichel!"
+
+Between two pictures, one of which was a lion devouring a crocodile,
+appeared the clown's head, grinning from ear to ear. He was so utterly
+grotesque that the crowd shrieked with laughter.
+
+Bobichel's name did not appear on the handbill. It had been omitted to
+leave more room for that of his friend Fanfar, and Gudel had called him
+to introduce him, so to speak, to the crowd.
+
+Fanfar and Caillette were alone. He was trying the ropes of the trapeze,
+while she was giving some finishing touches to the interior decoration.
+Suddenly, she stopped and looked up at Fanfar, who was swinging from a
+wooden bar. An artist would have been struck with the beauty of his
+figure.
+
+Caillette watched him breathlessly as he went through his exercises, and
+as he dropped at last on the floor, so lightly that his feet scarcely
+left their imprint, she threw both arms around his neck.
+
+"How bad you are!" she cried, "you frighten me half out of my wits."
+
+"Frighten you, child! Are you not yet accustomed to my exercises, little
+sister?"
+
+Caillette colored, and half turned away.
+
+"Why do you call me little sister?" she said.
+
+Fanfar dropped her hands, which he had taken from his neck. A cloud
+passed swiftly over his brow.
+
+"Because we have been brought up together," he answered, slowly. "You
+were not more than six years old when your father took me into his
+service. But does it vex you for me to call you sister?"
+
+"No, it does not vex me, but I would rather you did not."
+
+Fanfar understood her, and was disturbed. He had long since seen in the
+girl a growing passion for himself. Her innocence and purity were
+exquisite, but at the same time she loved Fanfar. He did not love her.
+He would have given his life for her, but he did not wish to spend it
+with her, and at the thought of Caillette as his wife he drew back. He
+now disengaged himself gently from her clinging arms.
+
+"To work!" he said, "it is growing late."
+
+Caillette took up her needle, as the door opened to admit Gudel. He was
+not alone, two ladies of aristocratic bearing were with him.
+
+"But, my dear Irène, this is a strange caprice," said the elder of the
+two. "What will the Countess say?"
+
+"My dear Madame Ursula, it would oblige me if you would cease your
+moans, that is, unless you should prefer to return to the château
+alone!"
+
+The dear Madame Ursula was a tall, thin woman, wearing blue glasses. She
+was evidently a companion or governess.
+
+Irène, in her riding-habit, looked about twenty. Her hair was jet black,
+and curled over a marble white brow. Her hat, Louis XIII. in shape, with
+curling plumes, gave a haughty expression to her dainty features. She
+looked as if she might have stepped from out the frame of one of the
+pictures of Velasquez. Her beauty was striking. Fanfar grasped it,
+Caillette studied it.
+
+"Pray tell me," said the young lady to Gudel, "if you have no seats
+where I can avoid contact with the crowd? I am ready to pay any sum you
+ask."
+
+"Oh! we have but one price, ten sous."
+
+The governess uttered a small gasp, and the young girl shrugged her
+shoulders impatiently.
+
+She drew out a handful of gold pieces from her bag.
+
+"Take these," she said, "and do the best you can for me."
+
+Gudel was puzzled and troubled.
+
+"Fanfar!" he called, "have you time to construct a sort of private box
+for these ladies?"
+
+Fanfar advanced, and when Caillette saw the admiring gaze he riveted on
+the stranger, she clenched her little hands.
+
+"I don't think I quite understand," he said.
+
+Irène replied:
+
+"It is a very simple matter. I desire to be present at your exhibition,
+and I do not care to mingle with the vulgar herd."
+
+Fanfar listened to these words very coldly, and then said:
+
+"What you ask is impossible."
+
+"I don't know about that," interposed Gudel, quickly. "I think a private
+box could be quickly made with a few boards--"
+
+"Only I refuse to make it," said Fanfar.
+
+"You refuse?"
+
+Irène started. Caillette smiled and blushed.
+
+"And may I know why?" asked the stranger, with a disdainful smile. "Why
+does----" She hesitated for the name. Fanfar supplied it. "Why does
+Monsieur Fanfar refuse to gain a few louis for his master?"
+
+"Not his master," said Gudel, hastily.
+
+"Let me speak," interrupted Fanfar. "I will explain to the lady. Our
+public are bourgeois and common folk who support us, and bring us
+success. Their hands are large, but they applaud well. They are good
+people, and I do not wish to humiliate them. To do what you ask would
+wound them deeply."
+
+Irène listened, with a frown.
+
+Gudel retreated to the background where he indulged in a silent laugh.
+
+Fanfar waited, calmly.
+
+"This is a lesson you read me?" she said, at last.
+
+"No, Mademoiselle, it is only advice. Make yourself beloved by these
+peasants. I have much to do, and pray that you will excuse me."
+
+He bowed, and was about to retire.
+
+"Monsieur Fanfar," said Irène, "you are right, and I thank you."
+
+Then, turning to Gudel, she asked him with bewitching grace to retain
+two seats for her.
+
+"Certainly, and the best. Will we not, Fanfar?"
+
+The young man met Irène's eyes, and started.
+
+"Will you give these few louis to the poor?" added Irène, "and I will
+accept two seats gratefully."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV.
+
+MASTER AND SERVANT.
+
+
+When the young girl, followed by Madame Ursula, who was choking with
+rage, emerged upon the Square, all the peasants lifted their hats.
+
+"There is the carriage!" said Ursula.
+
+A lacquey in livery approached, leading a fine English horse. Irène
+arrested the animal.
+
+"Do you intend to mount again? I thought," said Madame Ursula, "that you
+had promised to return in the carriage with me."
+
+But Irène was already in her saddle.
+
+The governess continued:
+
+"The Comtesse expected--"
+
+"Never mind that! And now, John, to the Château at once," said Irène,
+galloping off.
+
+"Who is that lady?" asked Bobichel.
+
+"Mademoiselle de Salves," a peasant replied, "the wealthiest heiress in
+the neighborhood."
+
+"A handsome girl!" muttered Bobichel.
+
+"She is too haughty to those beneath her," said some one.
+
+"She is made of Paris stuff," said another. "She's not calculated for
+our village."
+
+A new incident now occurred.
+
+A post-chaise, drawn by vigorous horses, now dashed into the Square,
+and drew up before Master Schwann's inn.
+
+Before the worthy innkeeper could come down the steps to welcome the new
+arrival, another person had dashed past him. This was the man, who,
+sheltered by his newspaper, had so closely watched all that was going on
+around him.
+
+"Monsieur le Marquis," he said, presenting his arm to the gentleman in
+the post-chaise, "I see my letter reached you in time."
+
+The new arrival is not unknown to our readers; it was he who, earlier in
+our tale, was known as the Vicomte de Talizac, and who to-day, by the
+death of the old Marquis, had been invested with all the titles of the
+Fongereues family.
+
+Ten years had elapsed since we last saw him, and though hardly forty, he
+seems an old man--his figure is bent and his stern face covered with
+wrinkles.
+
+The man who was waiting for him had long been his accomplice; together
+they had concocted the criminal plan to which Simon fell a victim, and
+as a reward for his villainy, Cyprien had been made intendant instead of
+valet.
+
+The Marquis entered the inn and looked around suspiciously, but saw no
+one but Schwann, who stood hat in hand; he did not advance, as the frown
+of the Marquis was far from encouraging.
+
+"Serve dinner in my room," said Cyprien, and he showed the silent
+Marquis up-stairs.
+
+When Schwann had laid the table and placed the dinner upon it, Cyprien
+took him aside.
+
+"You need not come up again, unless I call you."
+
+"Very good, sir."
+
+"And this is not all; please do not gossip about my master. If any one
+questions you, make no reply."
+
+"What could I say?" asked Schwann. "I know nothing!"
+
+"You might indulge in suppositions, which I advise you to avoid."
+
+"Zounds!" muttered Schwann, as he descended the stairs, "all these airs
+displease me! I very much prefer my rope dancers to this great lord!"
+
+Cyprien looked up and down the corridor, and listened at the doors of
+the next rooms, to ascertain that they were empty.
+
+The Marquis, in the meantime, had thrown his hat and cloak on the bed.
+
+"We are alone?" he asked impatiently.
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+"Speak, then. Your letter told me that you have found traces of that
+miserable Labarre."
+
+"Yes, sir, and I trust you will be satisfied with what I have done."
+
+"Did you see the man?"
+
+"No, sir. Your instructions were to avoid all contact with him. I know,
+however, where to lay my hands on him."
+
+"You have done well. I wish my presence here to be like a thunderclap to
+him. And then I expect that in his terror he will make the avowal which
+will be my salvation."
+
+"May I ask, sir, if your affairs have in any way ameliorated since my
+departure?"
+
+"Ameliorated!" Fongereues repeated with an angry gesture, "no, quite the
+contrary. Ruin is approaching with rapid strides, and in a few months I
+shall be lost!"
+
+"But the favor of His Majesty--"
+
+Fongereues laughed bitterly. "His Majesty cares little for me. Ever
+since I was unfortunate enough to displease his fair friend, the tide
+has turned."
+
+"But can nothing be done?"
+
+Fongereues shrugged his shoulders. "What is the use? I am sick of
+manoeuvering and intriguing. I have told the king that his faithful
+emigrés should be his best counsellors, and that it was his duty as well
+as his interest to rely on me. But it was of no use.
+
+"They think they have paid us," the Marquis continued, "because they
+have thrown us, as food to the dogs, a few louis of indemnity. As if
+France were not ours, as if we had no rights over these people who have
+assassinated their king and kissed the feet of an adventurer; but they
+are afraid, and talk of patience. I told His Majesty, one day, of my
+embarrassments. 'Sir,' he said to me, 'a Fongereues never begs!' and the
+next day I received four thousand louis. Confound the nonsense!"
+
+Cyprien could not refrain from a smile. Four thousand louis did not seem
+to him a trifle, nor nonsense.
+
+"But His Majesty is interested in your son."
+
+"My son! These Puritans have much to say about my son. He gambles and he
+does other shocking things. One would think, to hear them talk, that
+they were themselves paragons of virtue. As soon as the Vicomte marries
+and settles down--by the way, what about Mademoiselle de Salves?"
+
+"I only arrived last night, and have simply learned that their château
+is not more than two leagues away, and that they must soon leave it to
+return to Paris."
+
+"Four millions!" cried the Marquis. "And to think that this fortune may
+escape us!"
+
+"The marriage is not yet decided, then?"
+
+"Not precisely; and the smallest incident may ruin my plans. This
+Labarre must be made to speak, even if violence be necessary."
+
+"He is an incorruptible old fellow, and these honest people are
+sometimes very hard to deal with."
+
+The Marquis looked at him intently for a minute or two in silence, and
+then, with an indescribable smile, said:
+
+"I think we can manage him, nevertheless!"
+
+Cyprien smiled.
+
+"You know, beside," continued the Marquis, "that I am not ungrateful.
+Let this Labarre surrender this secret and my son become the husband of
+young Irène de Salves, and my position becomes stronger than ever. And
+you may be certain that I shall not forget you!"
+
+"I hope, sir, that it may be soon in my power to render you a most
+important service."
+
+"What may that be?"
+
+"You are aware, I presume, that I take great interest in the
+preservation of the present _régime_?"
+
+"I was not aware of that," the Marquis said, with a slight elevation of
+the eyebrows. It seemed to him that the opinions of Monsieur Cyprien
+were of little importance, and that the government was not likely to
+benefit by his sympathy and protection.
+
+"The fact is, sir, your future and that of the monarchy are too nearly
+allied for me to separate the two questions."
+
+"You are right."
+
+"And, in addition, I hold relations with persons who condescend to
+recognize in me a certain ability in the management of confidential
+matters."
+
+"Pshaw! Who are these persons!"
+
+"I will give you the name of one, sir--Monsieur Franchet."
+
+And Cyprien stole a glance at his master, who started in spite of all
+his self-control. This Franchet was at the climax of his celebrity, and
+exercised the mysterious function of Director-General of the Police. He
+owed his elevation solely to the Society of Jesus. This occult power,
+whose ramifications extended all over France, was mysterious and
+tremendous in its workings. No one could expect any favor if he did not
+first render this society most abject homage.
+
+Cyprien now became invested with immense importance in the eyes of the
+Marquis. He was now not only an accomplice, but a protector, who might
+become a formidable adversary.
+
+A brief silence followed this revelation, and then the Marquis bade
+Cyprien go on with what he was saying.
+
+"I was saying, sir, that I have employed all the resources of my weak
+mind in the defence of the sacred interests of the society, and that I
+had the power to replace you in the position which your imprudence has
+forfeited!"
+
+The lacquey was becoming insolent.
+
+"And how will you perform this miracle?" asked the Marquis.
+
+"By including you in the great plan which will prove our zeal for the
+monarchy."
+
+The Marquis frowned. He was not pleased at the association!
+
+Cyprien dropped his voice.
+
+"A vast conspiracy," he said, "is forming to overthrow the king!"
+
+The Marquis started.
+
+"Not so--the monarchy is strong."
+
+"There is no chariot so strong that it is not at the mercy of a grain of
+sand. I assure you, sir, that the danger is real. A Republican
+party----"
+
+Fongereues shrugged his shoulders.
+
+"A _Republican_ party," repeated Cyprien, emphasizing the word, "is
+covering the country with its net. In a few months--in a few weeks,
+perhaps--a movement will burst out simultaneously all over France, and
+it may come to pass that the throne will fall quicker than we think.
+Royalty is unpopular in these days. Strength is the only sustaining
+force. And is the throne strong enough to resist a general uprising? I
+doubt it. And I, poor servant that I am, can arrest this movement, even
+now! I can betray the chiefs of this association. But I am an
+insignificant person. No matter how great the services may be that I
+render, a bone or two will be thrown to me to gnaw, and that will be
+deemed sufficient. But let the Marquis de Fongereues, peer of France,
+denounce at the Tuileries the formidable association that threatens the
+throne and the altar--let him present himself in the cabinet of the king
+with his hands full of proofs--let him show the documents and the lists
+of the conspirators, and the Marquis de Fongereues will become master of
+France. He may exact any recompense he pleases for saving the throne and
+the altar!"
+
+The Marquis rose hastily. His eyes flashed.
+
+"And you say that this formidable secret is yours Cyprien?"
+
+"I hold the threads of the plot in my hand!"
+
+"And yet, you are ready to abandon the benefits which would assuredly be
+yours should you decide to make the revelation?"
+
+"I am, first of all, your servant, sir!"
+
+"Throw your cards on the table, Cyprien! What do you want me to do in
+exchange for this great service?"
+
+"I impose no condition. I have faith in the generosity of my master."
+
+"And you are right!" the Marquis replied. "If I succeed, I will make you
+rich, and place you so high on the social ladder that the greatest names
+in France will bow before you!"
+
+"Thank you, honored sir. When the hour arrives, I will remind you of
+your words. But now we must think of Pierre Labarre. Time presses!"
+
+"I am ready. Where are we to find him?"
+
+"Two leagues from here, near the little town of Vagney."
+
+"It is now three o'clock," said the Marquis. "We can surely return here
+to-night. You had best order the horses at once."
+
+When the Marquis was alone, he bowed his face in his hands.
+
+"If I could believe him!" he murmured. "But I am afraid!"
+
+A few brief words of explanation are here necessary. The Fongereues
+family re-entered France with the allied armies, and immediately
+obtained the favor of the king. The old Marquis was elevated to the
+peerage, and Magdalena felt that her ambitious projects were on the eve
+of fulfilment. The Vicomte de Talizac easily obtained proof of the death
+of Simon Fougère; his wife and children had disappeared, and probably
+perished. The Vicomte, therefore, did not hesitate to claim as sole heir
+the estate on the death of the Marquis in 1817. But this estate, though
+considerable, was far less important than he and Magdalena had hoped.
+The Vicomte was deeply in debt, and his creditors became impatient. If
+he and the Vicomtesse had not been madly extravagant, all the more so
+from the restrictions they had so long endured, their revenues would
+have been more than sufficient. But these two persons, who had not
+recoiled from a terrible crime to ensure their undisputed possession of
+the Fongereues fortune, were now carried away by a wild thirst for
+excitement and gayety. The hôtel they occupied became the scene of
+perpetual fêtes and the rendezvous of the aristocracy.
+
+Magdalena's son, who now bore the title of the Vicomte de Talizac,
+brought up amid this mad prodigality, developed early the faults of his
+nature, which were increased by the foolish indulgence of his mother.
+
+His father read his character at a glance, and cautioned Magdalena, who
+at the first syllable he uttered silenced him in the most peremptory
+manner.
+
+"Do you think," said Magdalena, "that my son is to conduct himself as if
+he were to earn his bread by the sweat of his brow? I am happy to say
+that he knows nothing of your petty economies."
+
+As her husband protested, she lowered her voice and looked him full in
+the face. "Do you think," she said, "that it was to make a beggar of my
+son, that I told you to kill the other?"
+
+The two guilty creatures gazed at each other; the Marquis was the first
+to turn his uneasy eyes away. From this moment the struggle began, and
+the Marquis led a most terrible life.
+
+Before long the alliance with Mademoiselle de Salves was projected. This
+marriage was to the Marquis de Fongereues the last plank between himself
+and destruction. Unless this plan was carried to a happy termination, he
+was ruined. Already there were rumors floating about the court of spots
+on the hitherto untarnished shield of the Marquis de Fongereues. People
+were beginning to desert the hôtel as rats fly from a falling house. The
+haughty manners of the Marquis and of Magdalena had conciliated no one.
+The insolence of Talizac had become proverbial; he had fought several
+duels from which he had come off unharmed. The approaching fall of this
+detested family was hailed with delight. It is therefore easy to
+understand why the Marquis was so eager to find Pierre Labarre.
+
+He was interrupted in his reflections by Cyprien, who now returned with
+the innkeeper.
+
+"I am sorry, sir," said the latter, "to be the bearer of annoyances. You
+know that we at this season are liable to inundations, and we have just
+learned that the torrent that crosses the road at Vagney is rising
+rapidly, and makes it dangerous to travel."
+
+"But is there no other road?"
+
+"None which is not equally flooded. Every where the danger would be just
+as great."
+
+"I am willing to pay any price to get on this afternoon."
+
+The innkeeper did everything to place obstacles in the path of the
+Marquis, who, however, insisted on going.
+
+"Well!" said Schwann, to himself, "I shall not be easy until they
+return, for I fear that the inundation has only just begun."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI.
+
+WALK IN, GENTLEMEN!
+
+
+While Gudel and Fanfar were making arrangements for the representation
+of the evening, while Fongereues and Cyprien exchanged their honest
+confidences, Robeccal went forth to meet La Roulante.
+
+It was this amiable giantess whom Gudel had been foolish enough to
+marry, although what charms he had discovered in this mountain of flesh
+it would be difficult to say. But he was alone; he was very unhappy over
+his wife's death, and La Roulante had consoled him. When once in
+possession of Gudel's name, this woman frankly threw aside the mask and
+displayed her real qualities and disposition. She was covetous and
+intemperate, presenting, in fact, an extraordinary specimen of human
+depravity. She hated Caillette for her youth and her beauty; she hated
+Fanfar for his goodness, and hated Gudel for his patience and for his
+good spirits.
+
+Robeccal joined the troop. Gudel had found him dying of hunger, and had
+rescued him. Soon he and Roulante were on excellent terms; both were
+thoroughly vicious. This liaison was furthermore cemented by a common
+hatred, and now they wanted to kill Gudel and Fanfar. They wished to
+keep Caillette that they might torture her as children torture young
+birds.
+
+These two excellent persons, Robeccal and the giantess, sat down by the
+roadside and talked over their plans.
+
+At this time the peasants had long been deprived of all amusements, and
+the circus company had been welcomed with enthusiasm which would
+certainly result in heavy receipts. If Iron Jaws should disappear by
+accident, or in any other way, La Roulante would remain mistress of this
+money, of the chariot and the horses--a snug little fortune, if properly
+managed.
+
+The giantess only wished to get rid of Gudel, whom she now hated, and
+marry this man whom she loved. It was clear that Gudel's suspicions were
+excited--in fact, his wife and Robeccal were doing their best to arouse
+him.
+
+If Gudel were dead, La Roulante would look out for his daughter, of
+course, and the giantess saw opening before her a vista of delightful
+cruelties she could practice on the girl. But Fanfar would certainly be
+in the way, for he never would allow the child to suffer, and therefore
+it was plain that Fanfar should disappear with Gudel.
+
+Such steps as these required serious consideration, and it was growing
+dark when these two conspirators returned to Saint Amé.
+
+In the meantime, two of our friends were taking a walk. Though the
+justice of this phraseology may be questioned, my readers shall judge.
+Bobichel placed his hat carefully on the side of the road, and then
+gravely began the charming exercise which is called the "frog." Bobichel
+did this with the most remarkable ease, and his wittiest sallies were
+uttered in this attitude.
+
+Caillette laughed, and at once began to dance, standing on the points of
+her toes and whirling round and round.
+
+But they were not so absorbed in their practice that they refrained from
+talking.
+
+"You are sad," said Bobichel.
+
+"No," answered Caillette, suddenly throwing out her left leg.
+
+Bobichel picked up a sou with his teeth.
+
+"Has anybody been worrying you, dear?" he asked, as soon as he had
+disposed of the coin.
+
+"Nobody," answered the girl, dancing on. "If I am sad, it is about
+nothing, at all events. Everybody has dark hours--"
+
+"Indeed they have. And Caillette, listen. There are, indeed, people
+about us,"--and the frog drew up his legs and jumped at least a
+foot--"this Robeccal will play us a trick some fine day, and your
+father's wife--well! we will see, we will see. But here they come, and I
+am sure they have been plotting together."
+
+"Come, Bobichel, do not let us wait until they overtake us," cried
+Caillette.
+
+"Do you think I shall run away? Now you go on, little girl; after a
+while I will overtake you. I want to have a little talk with this
+villain!"
+
+"Don't get into any trouble, papa would be offended."
+
+"Good-bye, then."
+
+Robeccal saw the girl run off toward the village, and a wicked smile
+gleamed over his face.
+
+"Good," he said, between his teeth, "we shall make you pay for that!"
+
+When he reached Bobichel, who was still in his frog attitude, the clown
+gave a flourish with his leg and his foot, quite by accident of course,
+knocking off Robeccal's hat.
+
+"Look out!" cried Robeccal.
+
+"Oh! a thousand pardons," answered Bobichel, "I did not see you!"
+
+"Didn't you! Well! little Caillette saw me, and ran away, as if the
+devil were coming."
+
+"A girl's nonsense. Never mind her. I am glad she has gone. The truth
+is, these people are putting on airs, and I don't like it."
+
+Robeccal was no fool, and these words inspired him with suspicion. "Does
+he want me to talk?" he said to himself. And he was right in this idea.
+
+"And as for Fanfar!" continued Bobichel, now standing on his feet.
+
+"And what of him? You are as intimate as possible with Fanfar?"
+
+Bobichel, with a sagacious nod, replied, "Of course I am, he is the
+master's favorite, but all the same I am not pleased with him. He eats
+our bread, and what does he do?"
+
+"He adds to the success of the entertainments."
+
+"I think, Robeccal, you are trying to provoke me. Because he is strong,
+because he has learned a lot of things, and can play on a lot of
+instruments, does not prove that he is worth more than either of us."
+
+"Oh! if I only knew whether you were to be trusted!" cried Robeccal.
+
+Bobichel in vain tried to preserve utter impassibility. Robeccal
+surprised a look in his eyes, which he translated at once as meaning,
+"He is going to speak. I have him."
+
+"I am to be trusted," said Bobichel, "particularly if there is a dirty
+piece of business on hand!"
+
+This was enough. Robeccal was warned.
+
+"Well then," he said, in a whisper, "I am about to leave Gudel."
+
+"No, not really!"
+
+"And if you desire, we can start together. I know of a place where we
+shall be received with open arms. What will Iron Jaws do without us! I
+laugh when we think of it!"
+
+"It is a good idea," said Bobichel. "When shall we go?"
+
+"One of these nights, when it is not cold."
+
+"Have we far to go?"
+
+"What! Already afraid of fatigue? We will make that all easy, but I must
+go now!"
+
+"Where are you going?"
+
+"Come now, Bobichel, none of that! I don't like questions, and I don't
+choose to be watched!"
+
+And Robeccal walked off.
+
+The clown looked after him, and then began to pound his own head until
+tears came to his eyes.
+
+"Idiot! Fool!" he muttered. "Will you never learn any sense. Why did you
+let that rascal see your game? You must warn Fanfar without delay."
+
+And as he saw some boys looking at him, they thinking that his despair
+heightened his comic appearance, he began to run toward the inn.
+
+Gudel met him at the door.
+
+"Well, Bob, what is the matter? You look disturbed. Come in, and take a
+glass of wine. And Schwann, join us."
+
+An hour later, the Square of Saint Amé was bright with lights, to the
+great joy of the peasants, who uttered many ohs! and ahs! as they
+entered the shed. Bobichel stood at the door.
+
+"Come in, gentlemen and ladies, come in!" And then he continued his
+shouts. "Wonderful Spectacle. The amazing Iron Jaws! The Wild Woman! And
+Fanfar! Come in, gentlemen, come in!"
+
+Caillette, behind the curtain, was looking through a hole, with beating
+heart, murmuring, "She is not coming."
+
+And Robeccal, passing La Roulante, whispered in her ear, "It is done!"
+
+A horse, covered with sweat, was pulled up before the door.
+
+"You have not forgotten me?" said Irène de Salves to Bobichel.
+
+Gudel came forward.
+
+"We were waiting for you before we began. But you are alone!"
+
+"My governess will be here in a moment."
+
+"She has come!" said Caillette, turning pale and looking up at Fanfar,
+who was arranging an iron chain, and did not seem to have heard.
+
+And the clown continued to say;
+
+"Come in, gentlemen, come in!"
+
+And the peasants, elbowing each other, said, "Oh! we must see this; it
+won't kill us for once."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII.
+
+ROBECCAL'S IDEA.
+
+
+The frequenters of the theatres and circuses of the present day would
+consider this establishment of Gudel's very modest, with its single
+gallery, a little red serge, and its shabby velvet curtain. There was an
+orchestra, but what an orchestra! All the actors when not occupied on
+the stage assisted in it. Gudel at intervals played the trombone. The
+gallery was crowded; so crowded that, from time to time, there were
+ominous crackings, but the people in their excitement did not notice
+this.
+
+But a great silence fell on the spectators, when Irène de Salves
+entered. Erect and haughty, she moved through the crowd, with the
+slightest possible inclination of the head in apology for disturbing
+them.
+
+A word here in regard to this young lady. She was looked upon as a very
+eccentric person. Her father had followed Bonaparte's fortunes, and had
+fallen in Russia, leaving his widow sole guardian of this girl, then
+only four years of age.
+
+The Countess, broken-hearted at her loss, shut herself up in the
+château, and devoted herself to her daughter. Irène seemed to have
+inherited her father's adventurous spirit, and her mother encouraged
+rather than restrained it, so great was her joy in the resemblance. She
+had his exuberant vitality, his contempt for danger, and his pride of
+race. Irène, possessing an enormous fortune and accustomed to the
+indulgence of every caprice, soon began to look upon herself as of
+superior clay to these peasants who doffed their hats to her as she
+passed. She believed in the great power of money, and the Countess
+encouraged this belief. But illness came, and the Countess was confined
+to her sofa by paralysis. She lived now only for her daughter, and it
+was the one bright spot in her day when Irène rushed in, bringing with
+her fresh air and the sweet scents of the woods.
+
+The child had become a woman, a woman full of contradictions. She was by
+turns charitable or pitiless, benevolent or disdainful. Sometimes, gay
+as a child, she rode all over the country--other days she hid herself in
+the woods or climbed to some inaccessible height, and there, with ardent
+eyes, indifferent to the wind that tossed her dark hair, she dreamed
+those dreams in which girls delight. She had moods of motiveless
+irritation, and of unreasonable indulgence. One day a village boy threw
+a stone at her horse. She pursued him with uplifted whip. Suddenly he
+turned, and folding his arms, defied her. She laughed aloud, and tossed
+him her purse.
+
+Another time she was told that a fire had destroyed a village. She
+hardly seemed to hear. It was winter. In the middle of the night she
+arose and saddled her horse with her own hands, and rode off to the
+sufferers, working over them for hours.
+
+She was not liked--none could tell why. Suddenly she learned, after a
+visit made by the Notary to her sick mother, that she was to marry the
+Vicomte Talizac. She cared nothing about it one way or the other. If her
+mother's heart was set upon it she was perfectly willing. The only thing
+she disliked in the plan was that she must leave her beautiful
+mountains. She had never been attracted by Paris, the streets and the
+people frightened her, but she was consoled by the thought that it would
+be a new world to conquer. On her return to the château, the daring
+words uttered by Fanfar dwelt in her memory: "Make yourself beloved."
+She had entered the booth where the exhibition had taken place, in a
+moment of idle curiosity, and was surprised at the impression made on
+her by the place and the people. She was greatly irritated withal. This
+mountebank, this rope-dancer, had taken a great deal upon himself,
+certainly. Why had she not answered him as he deserved? What did he
+mean--"Make yourself beloved"--as if she were not already beloved! She
+remembered the eyes which the peasants riveted on her. Could it be that
+they did not love her? And now she was seated on a wooden bench, Madame
+Ursula, who had at last arrived, on one side, and on the other a pretty
+but dirty child, who was playing with the fringe of her dress.
+
+Meanwhile the entertainment was going on. Gudel gave more than he
+promised in his handbill. Before the curtain went up, he called together
+the members of his troupe, and encouraged them to do their best. La
+Roulante went up to him, and to his great amazement said a few
+conciliatory words. As Gudel was by no means ill-natured, he shook
+hands with her. The giantess turned her face toward Robeccal and winked
+at him.
+
+Poor Gudel was very happy in this reconciliation. After all, things
+would go smoothly if he once got rid of Robeccal. Then Caillette kissed
+him, in her lace and spangles. Light as a bird, she skipped up to him
+and whispered in his ear:
+
+"Am I not lovely to-night, papa?"
+
+"Adorable!" he answered. He did not know that his darling was comparing
+herself with Irène.
+
+Fanfar had his hands full, and seemed so little interested in the
+audience that Caillette was enchanted, for in her heart lurked a fear
+that some one would love her Fanfar. But after all it did not matter,
+for he cared little for all the beauties in the world. He handed La
+Roulante the stones which were to form her apparent nutriment. He
+whispered a new witticism to Bobichel, and gave Robeccal some advice as
+to the manner in which he should hold his sword. Then he took a position
+where he could see without being seen.
+
+"Now, Fanfar," said Iron Jaws, "it is your turn! Look out for
+Caillette!"
+
+The girl was to execute a new step on the tight-rope, and when she
+appeared, led forward by Fanfar, and made the three deep "reverences,"
+there was a hum of admiration. She was charming--her delicacy was
+fairy-like. She lightly placed her foot on Fanfar's hand and sprang upon
+the rope. Standing there, she looked at Irène, who was leaning back with
+an air of indifference.
+
+Fanfar now took up a violin, and raising the instrument to his shoulder,
+he began. He played at first very slowly. Caillette, with her arms
+folded--she had long before renounced the balancing pole--advanced up
+the rope. She knelt, and remained absolutely motionless. Then there came
+a peremptory summons from the violin. She arose and extended her arms
+above her head, and began to dance. Fanfar was an artist, his playing
+was wonderful. The music became faster and faster, and Caillette's
+little feet seemed hardly to touch the rope, they twinkled like stars,
+while Fanfar's bow looked only like a silver thread. He dropped the
+violin, and Caillette leaped into his arms. As she touched the ground,
+she threw at Irène a glance of laughing triumph.
+
+Then came Robeccal's turn. He was a horrible object when he swallowed
+the swords. It was not admiration, it was horror, that he inspired. He
+seemed to enjoy this, and had imitated drops of blood on the sabres that
+he put down his throat. A few delicate persons shouted "Enough!" and
+Gudel appeared, not as Gudel, be it understood, but as Iron Jaws, the
+athlete. His enormous shoulders, his bull neck, contrasted with Fanfar's
+delicate form. Gudel tossed heavy weights and bent iron bars, and did
+all sorts of wonderful things. No one noticed the agility with which
+Fanfar, in his subordinate _rôle_, passed these weights to his employer.
+And now, the principal feat was to be performed. Fanfar rolled a barrel
+upon the stage, on which already stood a curious apparatus of bars and
+chains. Over this was a platform. The barrel was placed under this
+platform, and filled with stones. A rim was fitted to this barrel, and
+it was hoisted a little distance from the ground by a chain. It was this
+enormous weight that Gudel was to lift with his teeth.
+
+Iron Jaws placed himself on this platform.
+
+Fanfar blew a blast from his trumpet, and Iron Jaws grasped the chain in
+his teeth. The barrel moved up and up. The crowd was absolutely silent,
+this excess of strength inspired them with terror. Suddenly, a strange
+sound was heard.
+
+What was it? No one knew. No one had time to see. Gudel lay insensible
+on the ground. And Fanfar had caught this barrel in his iron arms. Had
+it absolutely fallen, for the chain had broken, nothing could have saved
+Gudel. As it was, the shock deprived him of consciousness. Fanfar
+himself could hardly stand.
+
+Caillette and Bobichel ran to Gudel. La Roulante knelt at his side, and
+uttered shriek after shriek. Robeccal did not appear.
+
+The peasants gathered around the injured man. They thought him dead.
+
+Fanfar drew Caillette away, and then leaned over his friend.
+
+La Roulante pushed him aside.
+
+"Don't interfere," she said, "he is my husband."
+
+Fanfar looked her in the face, and continued his examination. He opened
+Gudel's vest and shirt, and laid his hand on his heart. There was a
+moment of silence.
+
+"He is living," said Fanfar.
+
+Caillette uttered a little cry, and would have fallen had not a hand
+caught her. She turned, and saw it was Irène.
+
+"Will you give these salts to Monsieur Fanfar?" said Irène.
+
+"Ah! thanks!" cried Fanfar, without waiting for Caillette to give it to
+him, and took it, as he spoke, from the young lady's hand.
+
+"Pshaw! I have something better than that," said Bobichel, and dashing
+to the inn he returned with a bottle of brandy.
+
+"Two drops of this," he said, "will do more than all the salts in the
+world."
+
+Fanfar administered a few drops to Gudel, who presently uttered a long
+sigh.
+
+"Living!" cried Fanfar.
+
+"Heaven be praised!" shouted Bobichel. Then, turning swiftly toward La
+Roulante, he added,
+
+"Made a mistake, eh?"
+
+The giantess started.
+
+"Ah! he is better," said a treacherous voice. It was Robeccal who spoke.
+He feared lest his absence would look badly, and he had come back.
+
+"A physician is wanted," exclaimed Fanfar, turning to Schwann, who was
+weeping like a child.
+
+"There is none in the village, none nearer than Vagney, a league away."
+
+"Then I will go for him."
+
+"But the inundation. Fanfar, you can't do it."
+
+"I must try it, at all events."
+
+"Monsieur Fanfar," said Irène, "I beg you to take my horse. She is a
+splendid animal, and goes like the wind!"
+
+Madame Ursula raised her hands to heaven. "A splendid animal indeed!"
+she thought, "it cost two thousand francs."
+
+Caillette wrung her hands in despair.
+
+"I accept your kindness," answered Fanfar, simply. "You are very good,
+Mademoiselle, and I thank you."
+
+"I remembered your words of advice," she replied.
+
+Fanfar looked at her a moment. Then, passing his hand over his brow, he
+seemed to try to shake himself together.
+
+"Let him be carried to the inn, and the doctor shall see him as quickly
+as possible," he said.
+
+The peasants slowly raised the injured man, and as they crossed the
+Square, they beheld a singular scene. Bobichel had Robeccal by the
+throat, and pressed his knees on his adversary's chest.
+
+"Ah! Bobichel," cried Schwann, "is this the time to fight?"
+
+Bobichel rose, and seemed to hesitate, then he flung the scoundrel from
+him, with contempt and loathing.
+
+Fanfar leaped upon Irène's horse, and dashed off in the direction of
+Vagney.
+
+"My father, and he," murmured Caillette, "all that I love and have in
+the world."
+
+And with her handkerchief to her eyes, she followed the sad procession.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII.
+
+PIERRE LABARRE.
+
+
+We have left the Marquis and his most excellent servant Cyprien going
+toward Vagney, but it was not without anxiety that they ventured on this
+expedition. Both these men valued their lives highly, and felt no fears
+of ordinary foes, but with an inundation no cunning would prevail.
+Cyprien was extremely uncomfortable, and held his breath to listen to
+the rush of waters. He heard it soon enough, and saw it too. The water
+looked brown and had a silver foam upon it, but high as was the torrent
+it was still confined to its rocky bed. The intendant's courage
+returned. The Marquis stopped short to look at the cataract in
+admiration, but Cyprien urged him on, for it was growing late.
+
+Suddenly, Cyprien laid his hand on the arm of the Marquis, who started.
+Criminals are subject to these involuntary starts.
+
+"We are here," said Cyprien.
+
+"Ah!" answered the Marquis.
+
+"Do you see on that side hill a tiny house, which seems to hold its
+equilibrium almost by a miracle? It is there that we shall find Pierre
+Labarre."
+
+"But he may not be at home?"
+
+"He never goes out, this hermit." And Cyprien laughed.
+
+The house that Cyprien pointed out was much more like a hut--it
+consisted of one story. Before the door were two or three worn stone
+steps. The door was of oak, and looked strong. On each side of the door
+was a window, which had heavy shutters that could be bolted at night.
+These were now open.
+
+There was not a sound nor a movement about the house, at the back of
+which was an enclosure of moderate dimensions most carefully cultivated.
+
+The Marquis hastened on, impatiently. He struck two or three blows with
+his cane on the door.
+
+A voice within called out, "Who is there?"
+
+The two accomplices exchanged a glance. Their expedition promised well.
+
+"The Marquis de Fongereues."
+
+Instantly the door opened, and an old man appeared. It was the man whom
+we saw in the Black Forest in the beginning of our narrative, the man
+who then escaped from the assassin, and who told the old Marquis of
+Simon's retreat. But the ten years that had since elapsed had left their
+traces on his brow; and perhaps it was not years alone that had lined
+his brow, faded his eyes, and bent his form. His face was sad--a shadow
+rested upon it.
+
+"Enter, sir," said the former servant of the Fongereues family.
+
+The room into which the Marquis stepped was simply furnished--one corner
+was curtained off.
+
+"Please be seated, Monsieur le Vicomte," said Pierre.
+
+"I am forced to believe, Pierre," answered the Marquis, "that in the
+nine years that have elapsed since my father's death you have forgotten
+your good breeding. Will you kindly remember that my title is the
+Marquis de Fongereues?"
+
+Pierre held himself more erect. His face was like one of Rembrandt's
+pictures, where each wrinkle hides a thought.
+
+"I know but one Marquis de Fongereues!" he said, slowly.
+
+"And who may that be?" asked the Marquis, bringing his closed hand down
+upon the table.
+
+"The son of the man who was murdered in 1815, in the village of
+Leigoutte!" answered Labarre, with perfect calmness.
+
+"Murdered! That man fell when fighting against the true masters of
+France!"
+
+"Your brother, Monsieur le Vicomte, was killed by those who had sworn
+his death, and who struck him down, when, in defending his country, he
+was doing his duty!"
+
+The Marquis could hardly contain himself, his rage was so great. Cyprien
+feared an explosion. He had no objection to the man being killed, but
+not until he had been made to speak.
+
+"Let that pass!" said the Marquis, at last. "It is needless to awaken
+these memories." Then lowering his voice he added, with an affectation
+of pity:
+
+"It was a terrible affair, Pierre, and I understand that an old and
+faithful servant must have felt it deeply--the father, mother, and two
+children to die at the same time!"
+
+"You are mistaken," answered Labarre. "The father was shot, the mother
+perished in the flames, but the two children escaped."
+
+"It is strange that you can persist in this illusion, Pierre. Simon's
+two children are dead."
+
+The old man answered.
+
+"No--they are living!"
+
+The Marquis forgot himself:
+
+"Ah! you know, then, where they are?"
+
+"No; but your exclamation proves that you yourself do not believe in
+their death."
+
+Fongereues bit his lips.
+
+Cyprien shrugged his shoulders. He felt a little contempt for his master
+and doubted. The Society of Jesus would never trust him with a mission
+of diplomacy. He thought it was time for him to interfere.
+
+"It seems to me, sir," he said to the Marquis, "that absolute certainty
+in this matter is impossible. I have made the most careful search
+without the smallest success, though I had no difficulty in finding this
+house."
+
+"Ah! it was you, then, who discovered my retreat?" And Labarre shook his
+head.
+
+"That is enough!" interposed the Marquis. "Labarre, all this is useless.
+Give me your attention. I am about to speak of the honor of the
+Fongereues family."
+
+Labarre's pale face was lighted by a smile as he repeated the words:
+"The honor of the Fongereues family!"
+
+The Marquis shrugged his shoulders impatiently.
+
+"Cyprien," he said to his intendant, "you can leave us!"
+
+Cyprien was astonished. This was no part of the programme, but he
+remembered that he could return, and also that he could listen.
+
+As soon as the Marquis was alone with Labarre, an entire transformation
+took place in his manner. He seemed to throw aside a mask. He seized
+Labarre's hand, who shrank from the contact.
+
+"Listen to me, Pierre, and for God's sake throw aside this distrust,
+which is an insult to me. You were the friend and the confidant of my
+father, you knew his secret thoughts, and you know that he did not love
+me. I am ready to admit that my father had reason to be offended at many
+of my acts and many of my words. I was young, and very reckless. You
+see, Pierre, that I am speaking to you with entire frankness. God
+forgives the penitent. Are you harsher than He?" He felt the hand he
+held tremble in his grasp. "Guilty though I be," continued the Marquis,
+"great as have been my faults and my errors, I bear to-day the name of
+my father, and that name, Pierre Labarre, will be forever dishonored
+unless you come to my assistance!"
+
+"I do not understand," said Labarre. "I am an old man and poor. What can
+I do for you?"
+
+"I will tell you. I am ruined, my influence is lost. This is not all--I
+am crushed under the weight of engagements so heavy that were I to give
+up every sou I have in the world, and reduce my wife and my son to
+beggary, I could not release myself and save my honor!"
+
+Labarre did not speak.
+
+"I have tried every plan," continued the Marquis, "and--hear me,
+Pierre--I have gone too far. What would you say, Pierre, if the name of
+your old master should be borne by a forger?"
+
+Pierre did not evince the smallest emotion.
+
+"Well?" said the Marquis, breathlessly.
+
+"What do you want of me?" asked Pierre.
+
+"I will tell you. I know that my father, in order to reserve for Simon a
+portion of his fortune, and fearing, with the suspicion of an old man,
+that in some way he would lose it, made a will, which he gave to
+you----"
+
+"Go on, sir."
+
+"This will contains a secret--it tells where this money reserved for
+Simon is concealed. This will gives direction that only Simon, or his
+heirs, shall receive this will. Simon is dead, his children have
+disappeared. Your duty is plain. This money now amounts to two millions,
+at least. What was always my father's first wish? Was it not to preserve
+his family name without a spot or blemish? Give me this will. Without
+this money I am dishonored!"
+
+The old man released his hand and crossed the room. He stopped before
+the dark curtain, and then, with a solemn gesture, lifted it. The
+Marquis leaned forward. This was what he saw: A sheet of iron was
+fastened to the wall. It was twisted and out of shape. Strange lines
+were upon it, as if flames had licked it.
+
+"Do you know what that is?" said Labarre.
+
+"No," answered the Marquis, surprised and uneasy.
+
+"I will tell you. Among the Vosges mountains there lived a man, honest
+and kindly. He was loved by all. He kept an inn, and taught the children
+of the peasants, to whom he sold wine. Yes, and this man bore one of the
+noblest names in France. One day cowards killed him, and at the same
+time other scoundrels and cowards, in obedience to fratricidal commands,
+attacked the house where he had so long struggled against poverty; other
+villains again attacked his wife and tried to kill his children. This,
+Monsieur de Talizac, is the sign that hung on the front of the inn kept
+by Simon, Marquis de Fongereues, and I defy you, his brother and his
+murderer, to repeat to me what you have already said in the face of this
+witness. Pray and entreat, if you will, if you dare--I, the lacquey of
+your father, reply: Cain! you are stained with the blood of your
+brother--begone!"
+
+The Marquis uttered a yell of rage.
+
+"Your memory is short, Monsieur de Talizac, and I will remind you that
+in 1817, one night the good man whom you killed with your infamy lay
+dying. You had the cruel courage to enter his room, and knelt at the
+side of his bed----"
+
+"Be silent!" cried the Marquis.
+
+"My master cursed you, cursed you as a murderer! It was a horrible
+scene--I saw and heard it all. You implored this dying man to have mercy
+on you and tell you where this money was placed. But my master did not
+yield, nor will I!"
+
+Deadly pale, and with compressed lips, the Marquis murmured:
+
+"Then you refuse?"
+
+"I refuse--the son of Simon de Fongereues is living!"
+
+"And if he be dead--am I not the sole heir?"
+
+"I do not know."
+
+"You have no right to keep back a will. Once more I ask--will you
+speak?"
+
+"I will not!"
+
+"Very well. The will is here; we will take it!"
+
+The Marquis whistled, and Cyprien appeared.
+
+"We must help ourselves," said the Marquis.
+
+"All right!" answered the lacquey.
+
+Strangely enough, this man who looked so infirm now bounded back and
+placed himself behind a table. He drew from his pockets two pistols,
+which he pointed toward his adversaries.
+
+"Monsieur de Talizac," he said, "you tried to kill me once before, in
+the Black Forest--take care!"
+
+Fongereues had no arms. Cyprien had been wiser. He, too, drew a pistol,
+but before he could touch the trigger, Pierre had opened the door behind
+him.
+
+"For a valet," he said, "a dog is all that is required."
+
+A dog of the Vosges, as large as a wolf, with bloodshot eyes and
+bristling hair, flew at Cyprien's throat, who fell on the floor.
+
+"Help! Help!" cried the scoundrel.
+
+The Marquis, livid with terror, had succeeded in opening the door.
+
+"Here, Cliepé! Here!" shouted Pierre.
+
+The dog gave Cyprien another furious shake, and dropped him. He rolled
+himself out of the door. Pierre flung it to and bolted it.
+
+"Farewell!" he cried. "You will get your punishment in another world!"
+
+And from his window he watched two black shadows fleeing toward
+Saint-Amé.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIX.
+
+A FIRST MEETING.
+
+
+Just as Fanfar mounted his horse, an incident occurred which passed
+unperceived by the others.
+
+Irène went up to the groom who held her horse, and with the air of
+giving him some directions, she said to Fanfar, in a low voice:
+
+"Are you not wounded? Are you not risking your life to save that of your
+father?" She emphasized the word father, as if to make amends for having
+previously called him master.
+
+"I am always ready to die for those I love!" answered Fanfar, as he
+examined the animal with attention.
+
+Irène was silent for a moment. She admired the courage and the devotion
+of this man, but was at the same time irritated at the attraction she
+felt toward him. Obeying her sarcastic impulse, she said, quickly:
+
+"I have christened my horse since I saw you. His name is Fanfar!"
+
+Fanfar smiled.
+
+"Very good!" he answered, as he patted the animal's glossy side. "We two
+Fanfars must not shrink from any danger!"
+
+Irène remembered the inundation, but before she could speak the animal
+and rider were away.
+
+"The carriage is waiting for you," said Madame Ursula, approaching.
+
+"Yes, let us go," answered the girl, with feverish haste, and as she
+took her seat in the carriage, she said to herself: "Yes, I see what he
+means--make myself beloved, is what he said!"
+
+Fanfar, directed by some peasants, was now far on the road. He tore off
+his hat and flung it away. His brow was burning. Was it his violent
+exertions that had given him this fever? Or was it the anxiety he felt
+for his adopted father? But Gudel's pale face was obscured by a mocking
+though sweet face, which flitted between him and all else. How beautiful
+she was!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The two men, when they fled from the cottage of old Labarre, were
+entirely routed and discomfited. It was not the Marquis who was afraid
+of the pistol--he fled from the echo of his father's words, which the
+old servant had repeated.
+
+Cyprien could hardly draw a breath without pain, for the dog had wounded
+him on the throat.
+
+The Marquis was enraged with himself that he had taken no arms with him.
+He had supposed that he would not have the smallest difficulty in
+bending the old man to his will. Why had he not leaped at the fellow's
+throat when he opened the door?
+
+They had reached the rocks near the cataract, when Cyprien, seizing the
+arm of the Marquis, cried:
+
+"Listen!"
+
+The cataract roared through the narrow passage, but this was not all.
+What was that sound of crashing rocks? They soon discovered. Huge
+blocks of granite had rolled down from above, diverting the course of
+the water, which now tumbled down on the highway like a sheet of foam.
+And what was this behind them? Another great sheet of water coming on.
+The flood was pursuing them. The two men began to run. Suddenly the
+Marquis stumbled and fell. The water swept over him and carried him
+toward the abyss.
+
+"Help! Help!" cried Fongereues.
+
+Cyprien gathered together all his strength for one mighty effort--he was
+saved!
+
+The Marquis clung to the trunk of a pine tree that grew close to the
+precipice. The water rolled over his head and blinded him, but did not
+succeed in washing him away. Suddenly, from the summit of the rocks,
+came a voice.
+
+"Courage!" it cried, "courage!"
+
+The voice came from a man, but how did any man maintain a foothold
+there? He descended the rock, crying all the time: "Courage! Courage!"
+Suddenly his hands ceased to clutch the rocks, and he dropped. The water
+rose to his knees, but tempestuous as was the rush, he maintained his
+footing.
+
+The voice that had shouted for assistance was growing weaker. But
+Fanfar, for he it was, soon found the Marquis, but just as he had
+succeeded in reaching him he slipped, and believed himself lost.
+
+No, a strong hand grasped his arm and drew him up, but the burthen was
+heavy, for the Marquis was unconscious. Slowly, very slowly, Fanfar
+raised his load and himself, and finally sank upon the turf above,
+nearly as unconscious as the Marquis.
+
+Fortunately, a small lantern, which Fanfar wore at his belt, was not
+broken; he lighted it and examined the face of the man he had rescued.
+
+Yes, Fanfar, the resemblance is great. This is the brother of the man
+who died at Leigoutte. This is the man who outraged a woman one terrible
+night, and that woman was the sister of Simon's wife, and this man, who
+was then the Vicomte de Talizac, is to-day the Marquis de Fongereues.
+This man is your father! Does Fanfar know all this? Not he!
+
+The Marquis opens his eyes, he sees Fanfar in the darkness.
+
+"You have saved me!" he murmured.
+
+"Can you stand? Can you walk?" asked Fanfar.
+
+The Marquis struggled to his feet, but uttered a cry of pain.
+
+"Are you hurt?"
+
+"I think not, but I seem to have no strength left."
+
+"Wait!" said Fanfar.
+
+He went to the side of the rock, and examined it with his lantern. He
+uttered a joyous exclamation.
+
+"Most men," he said to himself, "would find this rock impracticable, but
+Fanfar can do it."
+
+He returned to the Marquis.
+
+"Put your arms about my neck," he said, "and trust to me."
+
+The Marquis obeyed, and Fanfar, weighed down again by this burthen,
+climbed the path heretofore trodden only by goats. They reached the top
+in safety, there they found Irène's horse.
+
+"I am going to take you on the saddle with me," he said to the Marquis.
+"I had been to a neighboring village for a physician, and returning I am
+only too thankful that accident brought me in this direction."
+
+He assisted the Marquis to the saddle, and that his hands might be free
+requested the Marquis to hold the lantern.
+
+He did so, and, with instinctive curiosity, flashed the light into the
+face of his preserver. He started back, for he saw before him the living
+image of the old Marquis de Fongereues. He must know the truth at any
+price. He fought against his fatigue, and just as Fanfar was about to
+leap into the saddle, the Marquis pressed the animal with his knee, and
+the animal was off like the wind. Fanfar believed that the horse had ran
+away.
+
+"I hope he will get to the inn in safety," said Fanfar, anxiously. "I
+must get back on foot, it seems!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XX.
+
+THIN PARTITIONS.
+
+
+Gudel had been carried to his room, the innkeeper moaning over and over
+again, "How could this have happened?"
+
+La Roulante established herself by the sick bed. She was livid with
+fear. The attempt had been a failure, and Bobichel had guessed it!
+
+The persistent questions of Schwann made her very uneasy. Caillette said
+the same thing. She hardly knew what had happened; she only knew that
+her father had been injured.
+
+Bobichel came in.
+
+"The chain has been examined," he said, looking in La Roulante's face.
+
+"What of that!" she cried. "Why do you meddle in what does not concern
+you? Do you mean to say that any one meddled with the chain?"
+
+"That is precisely what I mean!" answered Bobichel, forgetting all
+caution.
+
+La Roulante rushed at him. Caillette threw herself between them, and
+Schwann dragged her back.
+
+La Roulante caught Caillette by the arm and swung her off, then the girl
+picked herself up and ran to Gudel's bed. "Help! father!" she cried,
+"help!"
+
+The girl's voice seemed to produce a magical effect. He half rose in his
+bed, and looked about.
+
+Every one was amazed and delighted.
+
+"I knew he would get well!" cried Schwann, as he rushed to Gudel, and
+took his hands.
+
+Bobichel immediately poured out some brandy and gave it to Gudel, whose
+eyes almost at once regained a natural appearance. He saw Caillette
+first, and kissed her tenderly.
+
+"Where is Fanfar?" he said. "Was he hurt?"
+
+"He has gone to Vagney for a doctor for you, dear father."
+
+Iron Jaws laughed aloud.
+
+"I want none of your poisoners here, let me tell you." He caught sight
+of Bobichel, as he spoke. The clown was crying like a baby. "What is the
+matter with you, Bob?" he asked.
+
+"Nothing, master, nothing at all; I am so happy."
+
+"You have been fighting, sir?" said Gudel.
+
+La Roulante bustled forward.
+
+"No, he was impertinent to me," she said, "and I gave him such a shaking
+as he deserved, that was all. But have not you a word for your wife?"
+
+Gudel turned his head away. Bobichel took advantage of this movement to
+shake his fist in the face of the giantess.
+
+"Now let me see if I can stand," said Gudel. "One! two! three!"
+
+He was on his feet.
+
+"I must look at that chain," he said, "when Fanfar comes. And where is
+he? It seems to me that he is gone a long time."
+
+"He will be here soon," answered the innkeeper, "unless the inundation
+has increased."
+
+"Is he on foot?" asked Gudel.
+
+"No, the lady lent him her horse," said Bobichel, but he stopped short
+when he saw Caillette turn pale.
+
+Gudel could not see his daughter.
+
+"The young lady is kind-hearted, in spite of all her affectations," he
+said. "And now, good people, I must ask you to leave me. While I am
+waiting for Fanfar, I must see these men that I am to take to-morrow to
+Rémisemont."
+
+"You do not really mean to go to-morrow?"
+
+"I can't say yet. Caillette, my dear, you must go to bed and get some
+rest at once."
+
+Gudel was not in the least hurt; he had received a great shock, that was
+all.
+
+When La Roulante left the room, she was met at the door by Robeccal.
+
+"You see," he said, in a fierce whisper, "that if I had done as I
+wished, and used a knife, the whole thing would have been settled by
+this time."
+
+The two accomplices stood talking in the large room which the men of the
+company shared.
+
+"Who the devil could have supposed," the one said to the other, "that
+Fanfar would have been able to save Gudel. Such a tremendous weight!"
+
+While they were talking, Robeccal and La Roulante heard heavy steps on
+the stairs, and then a knock at Gudel's door.
+
+Robeccal started. He suddenly remembered the brief colloquy which he had
+had with the unknown--who was in fact, Cyprien. Might it not be if he
+did what this man desired that in it he would also find his revenge?
+
+"If you hate Gudel," this man had said, "I will give you an opportunity
+of paying off old scores."
+
+Robeccal opened the door and looked out.
+
+Yes, these were the men. Turning to the giantess,
+
+"Listen!" he said, "it is by no means certain that all is lost."
+
+"I don't understand."
+
+"No, but tell me quick. Does he seem to have any secrets?"
+
+"He is always reading the newspapers. He goes himself for his letters
+always, and brings back a quantity."
+
+"Have you never read any of them?"
+
+"I can't read."
+
+"Wait a little. I think we have him now."
+
+The two persons whom we saw in the dining-room now stood at the foot of
+Gudel's bed.
+
+"You have had a narrow escape," said one.
+
+"Yes, thanks to Fanfar. His brains, his arms and his muscles saved me."
+
+"It was of him that we came to speak," replied the man who was dressed
+like a horse jockey.
+
+"If it is time to act," said Gudel, "you may rely on him."
+
+"Are you sure? We do not doubt you nor him, but for such work as
+ours--of which the aim is to return to France that liberty which has
+been stifled by the iron hand of Bonaparte and by the Bourbons--we need
+men who are ready to sacrifice their lives--to walk straight on, even if
+the scaffold stands at the termination of their road. Is Fanfar such a
+man?"
+
+"I am not much of a speaker," answered Gudel. "My father was a soldier
+of the Republic. I myself was condemned to death in 1815. My father gave
+his life for France, and I lived through accident. It was about that
+time that little Fanfar fell into my hands, and I have always taught him
+to feel the greatest respect for the Revolution. You know, too, that his
+father was murdered by the allies, his mother was burned by the
+Cossacks, and his sister, poor little soul, died of starvation. Do you
+wonder that Fanfar hates the Bourbons? And you ask if you may trust
+him!"
+
+There was a brief silence, and then the man who looked like an old
+soldier spoke.
+
+"Gudel," he said, "we believe you. For ten years, over and over again,
+you have proved to us your devotion and your honesty."
+
+Iron Jaws blushed with pleasure.
+
+"Fanfar will be here presently. You will find him ready to do your
+bidding, and to risk his life in the performance of his duty."
+
+"You know the situation," resumed one of the men; "our enemies are
+already quarreling among themselves, our friends are redoubling their
+efforts. General Foy has stigmatized the purchasers of votes and
+rendered their names infamous. Roger Collard has distinctly asked a
+terrible question--'where will you be in seven years?' The excitement
+is general, and we must send a man of activity to Paris--a man who is
+young and active, who is willing to make any sacrifice. Can Fanfar be
+this man?"
+
+Gudel contented himself with a simple affirmative.
+
+"Then," said the old soldier, drawing out a pocketbook, "here are papers
+so important that were they to fall into the hands of our adversaries,
+our heads would be in danger and our plans ruined. These papers Fanfar
+must carry to Paris; he will give them to the committee, who in their
+turn will give him orders, which he is to execute without hesitation or
+curiosity. Can you answer for Fanfar?"
+
+"Upon my honor, I can."
+
+The two men continued to talk in a low voice with Gudel, and then they
+went out. Absorbed in thought, they did not notice a man who started
+back when they appeared. Robeccal had heard every syllable.
+
+Cyprien now arrived at the inn. White, trembling and breathless, he
+could scarcely reply to the questions addressed to him. He believed the
+Marquis to be dead, and was finally able to tell his story.
+
+Schwann began to be very anxious. Where was Fanfar? Suddenly a horse was
+heard coming at full speed. Schwann and Caillette rushed to the door.
+They uttered a simultaneous cry of surprise. It was the Marquis.
+
+"And Fanfar? Where is he?"
+
+"He is coming. But I have not a moment to lose. Take me to Gudel's
+chamber."
+
+The tone was too peremptory for Schwann to hesitate; being reassured,
+too, in regard to Fanfar, he was ready to obey without stopping to ask
+the meaning of this extreme haste. Cyprien started forward, but the
+Marquis gave him a look that commanded silence, and as he passed, said
+in a low voice:
+
+"Patience!"
+
+The door closed. Then Cyprien felt a hand on his shoulder and recognized
+the man whose assistance he had endeavored to buy.
+
+"Come out with me," said this man.
+
+"You have learned something?"
+
+"Come out with me, I tell you. Do you think I am fool enough to talk
+under these walls?"
+
+As they stepped out on the square they saw Fanfar, but Fanfar did not
+notice these two shadows. He entered the inn and Caillette threw herself
+into his arms, sobbing with joy.
+
+"I am glad to see you," muttered Schwann, half ashamed of his own
+emotion.
+
+In the silence that followed, the voice of La Roulante was heard singing
+while drowning her sorrows in a bottle of brandy.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXI.
+
+THE GRATITUDE OF A MARQUIS.
+
+
+After the departure of the two strangers, who, it will be understood,
+now renounced their trip for Rémisemont, Gudel remained very pensive. He
+said to himself that after all he had no right to imperil the future of
+Fanfar and to have made that promise for him. He began to feel very
+uneasy at the long absence of the young man. There was a knock at the
+door.
+
+"Come in," called Iron Jaws.
+
+His surprise was great when he beheld a stranger walk in.
+
+"I am," said this stranger, "the Marquis de Fongereues, and I wish to
+talk with you."
+
+"I am entirely at your service," answered Iron Jaws, bringing forward a
+chair.
+
+"You are probably astonished, Monsieur Gudel," said the Marquis, "at my
+coming here at this time. I know of your accident, and I trust you will
+excuse my indiscretion when you hear my reasons."
+
+Iron Jaws bowed.
+
+"I was, a half hour since, in great danger, and one of your people saved
+my life. You will hear about that later on, I can not now delay to tell
+you."
+
+"But who was this person?"
+
+"His name was Fanfar."
+
+"I might have known it!" shouted Gudel, "he is always doing such things.
+But where is he? Is he hurt?"
+
+"Not in the least. He assisted me upon his horse, and the animal was
+uncontrollable; he, however, brought me here in safety, but my preserver
+was obliged to walk back."
+
+"He does not mind that, let me tell you. He will be here in ten
+minutes."
+
+"And the more reason why I should make haste in what I have to say. My
+name tells you the position I hold at court--"
+
+"I know very little of such matters."
+
+"Then I will tell you that my name is well known, and that my credit is
+great. I am ready to serve your--son--"
+
+"My son! Alas, sir, I wish Fanfar were my son, but, unfortunately, he is
+no relation of mine."
+
+"But this young man has parents? I can serve them, undoubtedly."
+
+"Fanfar has no parents."
+
+The Marquis bit his lips. With difficulty he curbed his impatience; it
+showed in his voice and his eyes. Gudel suspected nothing.
+
+"A poor orphan, then?" asked the Marquis, in the most honeyed tones,
+"entrusted to your care by a dying father?"
+
+"No, sir, I found Fanfar."
+
+"Pray tell me how and where? I am greatly interested in this young man."
+
+"It is a simple story, sir. My father and I were mountebanks, and there
+are worse trades, let me assure you. I have served my time under the
+Republic, and was easy in my mind when there came the trouble of 1812. I
+with the rest was called out again. I had left my wife and my little
+girl at home in a village which the allies would have gobbled up at a
+mouthful, so I asked for a short leave and started off. I tumbled my
+family and their goods into my chariot, where were already packed the
+things I used in my profession. I must not omit to mention that Bobichel
+had kept up the business for me. We travelled along not very rapidly,
+for there was already fighting going on in France, and we were obliged
+to turn off the highway many times. One morning, passing through a
+field, I heard the sound of a bugle. It was the French bugle call. It
+sounded a little queer, but I said to myself, 'Hullo! there are comrades
+near.' I ran round a hillock, and saw something that I shall never
+forget in my life."
+
+"Go on!" cried the Marquis.
+
+Gudel opened his eyes in amazement, but he could not well see the face
+of his companion, and was flattered by the evident curiosity of the
+Marquis.
+
+"I saw soldiers, several of them, lying dead, butchered by the Cossacks.
+I looked around to see who had sounded the bugle. You won't believe me
+when I tell you that it was a boy, certainly not over ten, who had
+discovered this bugle and blown it. I ran to him, but I don't know that
+he even saw me, for he fell back fainting at that very moment."
+
+"And you picked him up?"
+
+"Of course I did! And this was Fanfar."
+
+"Did you make any search for his parents?"
+
+"How could I! The Cossacks were at my heels, and there was fire and
+blood everywhere."
+
+"But later on?"
+
+"The child was sick for a long time, entirely out of his head, and when
+he began to recover we feared that his brain was hopelessly affected. It
+was not until eighteen months had elapsed that he was able to tell me he
+came from Leigoutte, among the Vosges mountains."
+
+"Ah!" The Marquis drew his breath with pain. "Go on! go on!" he muttered
+in a hoarse voice.
+
+"He said his father's name was Simon, his mother's name Françoise, and a
+little sister was called Francinette, but he gave me no family name. I
+did my best and found that the father had been killed in an engagement
+among the mountains, the mother was burned in a fire set by the
+Cossacks, the sister had disappeared; my little Fanfar was all alone. I
+kept him, and did what I could for him. I taught him my profession. This
+is the whole story. On one side good, brave people, on the other cowards
+and assassins."
+
+The Marquis was livid. There was now no doubt. It was Simon's son who
+had been thus thrown in his path. He asked one more question.
+
+"But could you not learn the father's name?"
+
+"No, the village was burned, almost all the inhabitants had perished,
+the Cossacks had done their work well. One of the peasants did tell me
+that he always thought this Master Simon--he taught a school--was a
+great lord in disguise, but there are always just such foolish stories,
+and you know in those days great lords were not often killed in
+defending France."
+
+Fanfar entered somewhat abruptly.
+
+"This is the lad, sir," said Gudel, drawing him to his side. "He is
+good, he is honest, he is strong!"
+
+"I wish to thank you, young man," said the Marquis, turning to Fanfar,
+"for saving my life."
+
+Fanfar answered courteously.
+
+"You were in peril. I only did my duty."
+
+"Do not forget that if I can ever serve you, you are to apply to me
+without hesitation," said the Marquis, and bowing he left the room.
+
+Fanfar and Gudel were now alone.
+
+Cyprien waited for his master, who seized him by the arm and dragged him
+into the room where they had talked together in the morning.
+
+"Cyprien," he whispered, fiercely, "hell has come to our aid; this young
+man who saved my life, this Fanfar--"
+
+"Well?"
+
+"Is the son of Simon Fougère--the son of my brother!"
+
+My readers will please remember that only Françoise knew the secret of
+the birth of little Jacques, who was supposed to be the son of Simon.
+And of Françoise, the fire had destroyed every trace.
+
+"At last!" exclaimed Cyprien.
+
+"Hush! I have reflected. This young man must die, but his identity must
+be perfectly clear. We require Gudel's testimony, and then, when all
+this is plain, we can control Labarre."
+
+Cyprien assented to the wisdom of the plan, but he wished a little
+delay. He saw evidences of great impatience on the part of the Marquis.
+
+"I am not so simple, sir, as you think. This Gudel is one of the leaders
+of the conspiracy of which I have told you, and Fanfar is the man on
+whom these bandits rely to arouse the populace in Paris."
+
+Then in a low voice he told the Marquis how Iron Jaws had then in his
+possession papers which would prove the whole plot, and give the names
+of the conspirators.
+
+"Let him fall into the hands of the law," concluded Cyprien, "and the
+end is certain. We can contrive to give to the plot enormous
+proportions, and he will be condemned."
+
+The Marquis shrugged his shoulders.
+
+"No, that won't do. We can't rely on these judges. One never knows what
+whims they may take into their heads."
+
+"But what do you propose?"
+
+Fongereues hesitated.
+
+"Who is this man," he asked, "who has revealed to you the conversation
+of Gudel and his accomplices?"
+
+"He is a scoundrel named Robeccal, who belongs to their troupe."
+
+The Marquis tore a leaf from his note book, and wrote a few words in
+haste.
+
+"Take this man with you, and go to Rémisemont," he said. "Go to the
+Comte de Vernac, who is a rabid monarchist. He has vast influence, and
+this very night the police will be here, these two men will be made
+prisoners, and I have no doubt they will resist. Then I will attend to
+the rest; a criminal who resists may be silenced."
+
+Cyprien smiled meaningly.
+
+"Now go, at once, there is no time to be lost. Fanfar must be killed;
+Gudel must be taken alive. Gudel will tell his story in the court-room.
+The Comte de Vernac can never say that the information on which he acted
+came from me, and without any trouble we shall get rid of the heir of
+Simon Fougère. Before these same judges, moreover, Labarre shall deliver
+the will, and tell the secret. Let no one see you and this Robeccal go
+away together."
+
+"Rely on me."
+
+Before many minutes, Robeccal and Cyprien started off together.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXII.
+
+POOR BOBICHEL.
+
+
+More than two hours had elapsed since the departure of the two spies.
+The little town of Saint Amé was plunged in profound obscurity. The wind
+raged down the narrow street, and the roar and rush of the torrent was
+heard in the distance.
+
+One of the rooms in the inn presented a singular aspect. Caillette lay
+exhausted on her bed, but she was not asleep; she lay with her eyes wide
+open thinking of Fanfar. The poor little creature's heart was very sore,
+but she was too innocent to know why. She felt a vague terror
+complicated by a certain bitterness. She felt without understanding.
+
+Suddenly, she heard a strange noise. She looked around the room, dimly
+lighted by a night-lamp. On the floor lay the giantess, who had drank
+too much brandy. Robeccal had said a few words to her before he went
+away with the lacquey. She did not seem to understand him, but fell into
+a doze while he was talking. When she awoke, though by no means herself,
+she determined to rise from her bed. She did so, and staggered half
+across the room, then fell on the floor. Half laughing she looked about,
+and met the surprised, half frightened eyes of Caillette. This was not
+the first time that the young girl had surprised her in this degraded
+condition but this time she was more than ever shocked, and shuddered
+perceptibly.
+
+All at once, the giantess seemed to recognize in Caillette an enemy. She
+uttered a sound that was almost a growl, and, unable to stand, crawled
+across the room to the girl's bed.
+
+Caillette recoiled until she could go no further. She wanted to scream,
+but her tongue clove to the roof of her mouth.
+
+La Roulante saw her terror, and laughed. Determined to torture the
+child, she began to talk.
+
+"You want your Fanfar, don't you? Let me tell you that he cares not a
+sou whether you live or die."
+
+She stopped talking for a few minutes, and seemed to be reflecting.
+
+"No, I won't kill you--it is not worth while. What was it that my little
+Bob said to me? Where has he gone, I should like to know!"
+
+She repeated these words over and over again. Presently she vaguely
+recalled what Robeccal had last said to her.
+
+"'He will not be long,' he said, 'he was going--' Where was he going?
+Oh! for the police--Gudel and Fanfar had better look out!"
+
+She now crawled away from the bed until she found the brandy bottle,
+which she drained, all the time saying over and over confused words
+about the police and papers which would cost two persons their lives.
+
+Although Caillette did not understand, she saw that there was danger,
+pressing and immediate, for both Gudel and Fanfar. She waited until La
+Roulante's heavy breathing showed that she was asleep, and then the
+young girl cautiously crept from her bed and to the door, which,
+fortunately, was not locked. She hurried to her father's room. Some one
+lay before the door. She stooped and recognized the faithful clown, who
+had thus mounted guard.
+
+"Bobichel! I must speak to my father," she whispered.
+
+"What! is it you, little Caillette? Is there trouble?"
+
+"Yes--and not one moment to lose!"
+
+Bobichel was wide awake and on his feet. He opened the door for
+Caillette. Her father was on the bed asleep. Fanfar was asleep, too,
+sitting in his chair.
+
+Fanfar started up. "Caillette!" he exclaimed.
+
+"Yes--wake my father at once!"
+
+"He is so weary, and needs rest."
+
+"It is a question of your liberty--his liberty and your lives!"
+
+Gudel now opened his eyes.
+
+"What is the matter, child?" he asked.
+
+"The police are coming to arrest you!"
+
+"What nonsense!"
+
+Caillette instantly repeated the disconnected words uttered by La
+Roulante.
+
+"She can't know anything!" said Gudel, uneasily. "Bobichel!" he called.
+
+"I am here, master!" answered the clown.
+
+"Where is Robeccal?"
+
+"I don't know--he went away three hours ago."
+
+"Where was he going?"
+
+"I don't know--I was too sleepy to ask."
+
+Gudel questioned Caillette again. "Had La Roulante distinctly spoken of
+papers?"
+
+It was only too clear that there had been spies in their camp.
+
+"Fanfar," said Gudel, "when one accepts a mission like ours his life no
+longer belongs to himself. We must fly, and at once!"
+
+"But how?"
+
+"We will take the horses that belong to the chariot."
+
+"And do you forget me, father?" asked Caillette.
+
+"No--I confide you to Bobichel."
+
+"Oh! Fanfar, do not leave me!" sobbed the young girl.
+
+"Dear child, there are great dangers to run!"
+
+"Yes, but with you I should not be afraid."
+
+"And master--am I to be left behind?" asked the clown.
+
+"Very well, we four will go, then," answered Gudel. "But you forget that
+we have not horses enough," he added.
+
+"But I have legs," interposed Bobichel, "and I can overtake you wherever
+you go. You can take Caillette on behind."
+
+"Yes, that would do very well, would it not, Fanfar?" asked the girl,
+eagerly.
+
+"Where shall we go?" said Fanfar to Gudel.
+
+"We had best take the road to Paris. If we are pursued, we shall find a
+hiding-place there as well as anywhere else."
+
+"Shall we wake Schwann?" asked the clown.
+
+"No, no--what is the use? I do not wish him to be compromised, either,
+and when they question him they will find that he really knows nothing.
+You, Bobichel, bring out the horses--the saddles are in the wagon. Go,
+and make haste!"
+
+Gudel here stopped short.
+
+"My wife!" he said.
+
+"But, master, it is she who has betrayed you!" cried Bobichel.
+
+"It is she who has saved us!" Gudel replied.
+
+"Yes, but without meaning to do so."
+
+"I must see her, at all events."
+
+And Gudel hurried to her room, and beheld her lying in a drunken stupor
+on the floor. He shook his head sadly.
+
+"After all, she has nothing to fear, and we may as well part in this way
+as in any other--the end was coming!"
+
+And he returned to his daughter and his friends, who in the meantime had
+been making a rope of the sheets and blankets on the bed. With their aid
+Bobichel dropped from the window.
+
+"Now it is my turn!" said Caillette, and, light as a bird, she seized
+the rope.
+
+"Take care, child! Take care!" cried Fanfar.
+
+"Would it pain you," she asked quickly, "if I came to grief?"
+
+"Hush! child."
+
+Little Caillette was very gay, and it was with a pretty, childish laugh
+that she swung herself to the ground, where in two minutes her father
+and Fanfar also stood.
+
+The two horses, all saddled, stood ready.
+
+"You have the papers, Fanfar?" asked Gudel, in a whisper.
+
+"Yes--I have them."
+
+"Then let us start at once."
+
+Caillette, without the smallest hesitation, sprang on Fanfar's horse.
+
+"And you, Bobichel?"
+
+"Don't be troubled about me!"
+
+"Hark!" cried Fanfar.
+
+They listened, and heard distinctly the tread of horses in the distance.
+
+"The police!" said Bobichel.
+
+"They have lost no time, at all events!" And Gudel laughed. "But we have
+the advantage, and I know a cross-road which will cut off a good bit."
+
+The two horses stepped gingerly out of Schwann's premises, and when once
+on the high road dashed madly forward. The inn was wrapped in silence
+and almost in darkness--only one room was lighted, the one where the
+Marquis sat, impatient and anxious. He, too, heard the horses galloping.
+His plan had succeeded, then. In a few minutes the house would be
+surrounded.
+
+A group of horsemen suddenly appeared on the Square. Robeccal and
+Cyprien were with them.
+
+When Robeccal went away, he had taken the precaution to leave a window
+open on the lower floor, which Schwann had not discovered in making his
+rounds for the night.
+
+Robeccal entered through this window and opened the door.
+
+Schwann was aroused by footsteps below, and rushed down the stairs.
+Seeing the police in uniform, he uttered an exclamation.
+
+"The police in my house!" he cried.
+
+"I ask your pardon, sir," answered the Brigadier of police, "but there
+was urgent need. In the name of the king!"
+
+Schwann repeated the words with a sigh.
+
+"You have conspirators lodging here--enemies of the monarchy!"
+
+"You are greatly mistaken, Brigadier--"
+
+"Not so. Their names are Gudel and Fanfar."
+
+Schwann laughed. "That is ridiculous!" he said.
+
+"That may be, but I have orders to arrest these men! Where are they?"
+
+"I will show you!" said Robeccal, quickly. The door of the chamber was
+locked.
+
+"Break it in!" cried Robeccal.
+
+"Wait! Law before all else." And standing in a military attitude, the
+Brigadier shouted: "In the name of the king, open!"
+
+As may be supposed, there was no reply. Then, with his shoulder, the
+Brigadier burst it open.
+
+"Gone!" roared Robeccal, and looking round he quickly espied the
+improvised rope at the window, and flew down the stairs.
+
+Cyprien drew the Brigadier aside. "Spare no exertion. The fate of France
+depends on you, now!" he said.
+
+The Brigadier became immensely important on hearing these words. He took
+a lantern and hunted for traces of the fugitives.
+
+"This way!" cried Robeccal, "they have made their escape toward the
+forest."
+
+"I know every inch of the forest," answered the Brigadier, waving his
+sword, as if he were about to attack an enemy.
+
+Cyprien stood biting his lips. Could it be that Fanfar was to escape him
+now? The police rode off at a rapid pace, and Cyprien felt that they
+must overtake the fugitives.
+
+About two miles from the village the road wound round a hill, on one
+side of which was a deep precipice. Day was breaking, and Robeccal, who
+of course had joined in the pursuit, rose in his stirrups in hopes to
+see some sign of the men they were pursuing.
+
+Suddenly one of the horses fell, then the one behind meeting with the
+same obstacle, fell also, until five out of the seven were on the
+ground.
+
+"It is a rope!" cried the Brigadier, "a rope stretched across the
+road--the rascals!"
+
+The men who were in their saddles leaped to the ground and endeavored to
+assist their comrades, one of whom had a leg broken.
+
+Robeccal stamped with rage.
+
+"Halloo!" cried a voice, "you had best meddle with honest people
+again!" And Bobichel, standing on the side of the road, danced with
+glee.
+
+"You shall pay for that!" shouted Robeccal, and snatching a pistol from
+the belt of one of the police, he fired at Bobichel.
+
+The clown flung out his arms. "They are saved, at all events!" he
+shouted, as he disappeared, falling into the abyss at his feet.
+
+Fanfar and Gudel were far away. Poor Bobichel!
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIII.
+
+FRANCE--1824.
+
+
+The 29th of February, 1824, was a Sunday, and a fête day. At that time
+the Carnival was in full blast, and the streets were crowded with
+curious spectators. A carriage drew up before a fashionable restaurant
+in the Palais Royal. The carriage was driven by a coachman wearing a
+powdered wig, and the horses were magnificent. Three young men with
+cigars in their mouths descended from the carriage, and took the path
+that led to the garden.
+
+They were wrapped in Venetian cloaks and each wore on his shoulder knots
+of ribbon, different in hue, and each concealed his face under a white
+satin mask, to which mask the police made no objection, as it was a sign
+of high birth and nobility.
+
+These young men laughed when they found they were to pass through a
+double row of spectators, to whose jokes they replied in kind.
+
+Lights were beginning to twinkle among the trees when they established
+themselves at a table in the café.
+
+"I am thankful to say," exclaimed one of the young men, "that the
+Carnival is nearly over."
+
+"Fernando is right," said one of the two others. "We have been out now
+for two hours, and we have not had the smallest adventure."
+
+"Pshaw!" answered the third youth, who was called Arthur by his friends,
+"we have a long evening before us, and it would be odd if we did not
+find some excitement and could not create a little scandal!"
+
+Of these three young men one was named Arthur de Montferrand; his father
+had made himself a name in the Chamber of Peers by defending the
+assassins of Marshal Brune; the other, Gaston de Ferrette, was a great
+duelist, although not more than twenty-four, and belonged to the best
+blood in France.
+
+The third was less known in Paris. He was an Italian who was traveling
+in France. His name was Fernando de Vellebri. He came with letters from
+princes and ambassadors, which opened to him the first hôtels in the
+Faubourg. This was the time when the word "dandy" began to be used, and
+these three aspired to the title.
+
+"Where is Frederic?" said one. "Would he fail us now?"
+
+"Of course not. Besides, he wrote to me to say that he was to go with
+Mademoiselle de Salves to witness some ceremony at Notre Dame!"
+
+"Poor Frederic!"
+
+"He is not so much to be pitied, if you please, for Mademoiselle de
+Salves is a most charming person."
+
+"But does he love her? That is the question."
+
+"It seems to me that you take a great deal of interest in my private
+affairs, gentlemen!" said a clear voice behind them.
+
+"Frederic! Frederic, at last!"
+
+"Yes, Frederic, who has been listening to you for some minutes, and who
+thinks you a little venturesome in your remarks."
+
+He whom these young men greeted as Frederic wore no mask. His costume
+was what in 1824 was regarded as the height of elegance. His friends
+looked at him with admiration and envy, audibly regretting that they had
+appeared in mask and costume.
+
+"Then go and take them off," said Frederic. "I will wait for you here,
+or, better still, you may stop for me an hour later at the _Mille
+Colonnes_."
+
+Frederic was left alone. He was a youth of about twenty, but looked
+older. Heavy brows shaded deep-set eyes, his shoulders were square, with
+a slight deformity of the spine. His name was Frederic de Talizac.
+
+Ten years had elapsed since the son of Magdalena scorned and insulted
+France. We shall soon discover if the man fulfilled the promise of his
+childhood.
+
+The Vicomte left the rotunda, and putting up his eyeglasses, began to
+examine the crowd in the garden.
+
+The Palais Royal was at that time the central point of Paris, and served
+as a rendezvous for everybody. Each café had its special customers. The
+Bonapartists went to one, foreigners to another--the _Mille
+Colonnes_--speculators to the _Café de Fois_, and so on. The _Café de
+Valois_ was frequented by military men, the survivors of the great
+Revolution, and it was also believed that it was a resort of the
+Republicans. Wonder was frequently expressed that the police had not
+suppressed this scandal. It was toward this café that the Vicomte now
+took his way. Hardly had he passed the gallery than he was attracted by
+a group of young men earnestly conversing together. Frederic watched
+them a moment, and then went up to them. He touched one of the men on
+his shoulder, saying:
+
+"Will you grant me a few minutes' conversation, sir?"
+
+The young man to whom this question was addressed was about twenty-five.
+His regular features indicated great determination. He looked at Talizac
+for a moment, and then replied, very coldly:
+
+"I am at your service, sir."
+
+The two men then walked into an almost deserted street.
+
+"I first wish to know your name," said the Vicomte. "I am Frederic de
+Talizac."
+
+"As I am well aware."
+
+"And I wish to know your name that I may know also, if I am to speak to
+you as to a gentleman, or strike you as I would a lacquey."
+
+The young man turned very pale, but with a calmness that was absolutely
+terrifying under the circumstances, he replied:
+
+"There can be nothing in common between us two."
+
+"I am to marry Mademoiselle de Salves in a month," said Talizac, between
+his close shut teeth. "Yesterday, at noon, you had the impertinence,
+when riding past her mother's hôtel, to throw a bouquet over the garden
+wall."
+
+"Well?"
+
+"You probably have excellent reasons for concealing your name, but I
+give you fair warning that if you are again guilty of similar conduct,
+that your chastisement will be swift and sure!"
+
+The Vicomte stopped short, for the young man grasped him by the wrist
+with such strength that Frederic caught his breath in pain.
+
+The stranger spoke in a low, calm voice.
+
+"You have insulted me--wait!"
+
+He turned and called to his friends.
+
+"Gentlemen," he said, "this man has insulted me. Shall I fight him? He
+is the Vicomte de Talizac."
+
+One of the friends, who wore the ribbon of the Legion of Honor, replied:
+
+"You cannot fight with a Talizac!"
+
+The Vicomte uttered a cry of rage, but the other still held him firmly.
+
+"You see," he said, "we do not fight with people whom we do not respect.
+If you do not understand me, apply to your father for an explanation--he
+will give it to you. The day may come when you may have an opportunity
+of killing me--if you can. Now go--return to your shameful pleasures!"
+
+With features convulsed with rage the Vicomte, unable to speak, drew
+from his pocket a handful of cards, and flung them into the face of the
+unknown, who started forward, but one of his friends laid a restraining
+hand on his arm.
+
+"You do not belong to yourself!" he said, warningly.
+
+Talizac disappeared. As he was hurrying on, blind with anger, a voice
+cried:
+
+"Is this the way you keep your appointments?"
+
+It was the Italian, Fernando de Vellebri. He added, with a wink:
+
+"You ought to have killed that fellow. You know him?"
+
+"Very little."
+
+"He was concerned in that affair at Tivoli. You will tell me about it."
+
+The tone which the Italian employed was not pleasing to Frederic, who,
+glad to have found a new adversary, answered quickly:
+
+"I suppose you mean that I can tell you, if I choose. You seem to give
+me orders."
+
+"Suppose we sit down." And the Italian pointed to two chairs which were
+unoccupied. He seated himself at once.
+
+"My dear Vicomte," he said, serenely, "it seems to me that, situated as
+we are, there should be no misunderstanding or quarrel between us."
+
+"How do you mean?"
+
+"I mean what you seem to have forgotten, that yesterday, in a moment of
+absent-mindedness, you signed a certain paper with a name that was not
+your own."
+
+The Vicomte turned very pale.
+
+"How did you know this?" he stammered.
+
+The Italian took out an elegant little pocketbook.
+
+"Here it is," he said, opening a paper bearing the royal mark.
+
+"But how did it come into your hands?"
+
+"In a very simple way--I bought it."
+
+"You--and for what reason?"
+
+"Can you not suppose that my only motive was to render you a service?"
+
+The Vicomte shrugged his shoulders.
+
+"You are right," answered Fernando, in reply to this mute protest. "I
+have another reason. I do not wish the Vicomte de Talizac to come to
+grief because my fortune is intimately connected with his--because his
+father, the Marquis de Fongereues, has rendered and will render great
+services to a cause that is mine. You must promise me to be guilty of no
+more imprudences like this."
+
+"Do you mean to give me that paper?"
+
+"No, it is not altogether mine; those who retain an interest in it can
+alone surrender it to you."
+
+"And who are those persons?"
+
+"Friends, defenders of the Monarchy and of Religion. But we will say no
+more on this trifle now. I merely wished to prove to you that I had a
+right to your confidence. Resume your story, and tell me why you hate
+this man whom you just now provoked."
+
+This trifle, as the Italian called it, could place the Vicomte at the
+criminals' bar, as both men well knew, but Frederic deemed it advisable
+not to insist. He suspected the truth, and had long since decided that
+the Italian belonged to the mysterious association. It was enough for
+him that the danger was momentarily averted.
+
+"Very well," said Talizac, "you were speaking of Tivoli. The crowd was
+very great at the fête, the fireworks were going on, at that moment the
+king's arms were exhibited. Suddenly there was a grand excitement; part
+of the scaffolding gave way. Mademoiselle de Salves in her fright
+dropped my arm and began to run. I saw a great timber falling and
+believed she was lost. I could not reach her. A man emerged from the
+crowd, and with incredible strength seized this timber and eased it to
+the ground. She fainted, and when the crowd permitted me to reach her
+side, this young man was holding her in his arms. She opened her eyes,
+and I am certain that this man was no stranger to her. When, however, we
+all gathered about her, the unknown bowed respectfully and vanished. I
+noticed, however, that this romantic cavalier carried away with him a
+ribbon from the dress of the young lady--only a ribbon. I told Irène of
+this impertinence; she did not even condescend to answer me."
+
+"But the Paladin did not long content himself with this silent homage, I
+presume?"
+
+"Women are idiots, you know, and this man now passes Irène's windows
+daily, and even throws flowers over the garden wall; and this woman, who
+is to be my wife, stands behind the curtain and watches for his coming.
+This my own eyes have seen, and I have come to the conclusion that it
+has gone on long enough--"
+
+"Ah! and you wish to get rid of this gallant. The matter ought to be
+easy enough."
+
+"Yes, one would think so. I have kept my valet on the watch, and
+discovered that he came every day to the _Café de Valois_ at this
+hour--"
+
+"My dear Talizac, I can put an end to all your difficulties. If
+Mademoiselle de Salves has built up a pretty romance, I can banish her
+dreams by telling her the name of her lover. Your rival, my dear fellow,
+is or was rather, a mountebank, and his name is Fanfar."
+
+The Vicomte laughed long and loud.
+
+"Upon my word!" he exclaimed, as soon as he could speak, "I should have
+made a fool of myself, had I fought a duel with the fellow! But do the
+men who are with him know who he is?"
+
+"Certainly. They know perfectly well. And yet shake hands with him! They
+call him their friend."
+
+The Italian could stand no more of this. He rose from his chair. "Come,"
+he said, "this is the Carnival, let us end the day merrily."
+
+"I should be only too glad to do so," was the Vicomte's reply, "anything
+to make me forget the disagreeable scene with that man!"
+
+The Vicomte called the contumely heaped on his father's name and his
+own, "a disagreeable scene."
+
+The two young men sauntered across the garden. Just as they reached the
+fountain, Frederic stopped.
+
+"What is it?" asked the Italian.
+
+A young girl was singing to a guitar. A curious crowd had gathered about
+her. She was a pretty creature; her brown curls were covered by a
+handkerchief of white wool, her face was perfect in shape and in
+coloring, her eyes were dark--gay, but at the same time innocent.
+
+She accompanied herself on a guitar as she sang, and her voice was so
+delicious that the crowd clamored for more. The girl bowed her thanks,
+and extended the back of her guitar for money. She colored deeply as she
+did so. When she reached Frederic, he said, in a whisper, as he laid a
+gold piece on the instrument, "You are alone to-day."
+
+She started, looked up quickly, and passed on.
+
+"The 'Marquise' is in a lofty mood," said the Italian, stooping as he
+spoke, and picking the gold piece from the ground. "Take it, Vicomte, it
+is yours, since she would have none of it."
+
+Frederic uttered a sullen oath.
+
+"And this has been going on for two months!" Fernando laughed, as he
+stated this as a fact, "and every day the Marquise--by the way, why is
+she called by that name!--repels the homage of the Vicomte!"
+
+"Do you spend all your time watching me, Fernando? Take care, patience
+has its limits!"
+
+"I am glad to hear it. You bear too much from this girl!"
+
+Frederic caught his arm. "Listen to me, Fernando, my brain reels with
+mad projects. Help me to avenge myself on Fanfar--help me to carry off
+this girl, and I belong to you, body and soul!"
+
+"Well said!" answered the Italian, "as the bargain is concluded, suppose
+we go to dinner?"
+
+"But this girl?"
+
+"We will talk of her to-night, and I am quite sure you will have no
+reason to complain of me!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIV.
+
+THE MARQUISE.
+
+
+Forty-eight hours have elapsed since the scenes we have described in the
+last chapter, and the day is Mardi Gras. Opposite the Café Turc, which
+in 1824 had a European reputation, stood a house of squalid appearance,
+inhabited, because of the low rent at which rooms could be obtained, by
+a number of modest tradespeople, who for the greater part of the year
+carried on the numerous booths on the Square.
+
+Before describing this picturesque corner of old Paris, unknown to the
+present generation, we will enter this house to which we have alluded,
+and which bore the number 42 of the Boulevard du Temple. In a room on
+the fifth floor, the girl who was called the Marquise was finishing her
+toilette before the mirror. A poor little room enough, with its faded
+wall paper, its narrow bed pushed into the corner, its two chairs and
+pine table. The window closed but imperfectly, and the wind blew out the
+curtain like a sail. Colored prints were fastened against the wall, and
+everything was exquisitely clean. A white napkin was spread upon the
+table, and the bed had snowy curtains. The mirror at this moment was
+worth more than any from Venice, for it reflected a charming Greuze-like
+face.
+
+The singer was twisting up her rebellious curls, and endeavoring to
+bring her hair into some kind of order. Her complexion was exquisite,
+her big dark eyes were full of sunshine, and her lips were beautiful and
+fresh. She fastened on her muslin cap, and then the graceful hands
+fluttered about her dress arranging that also.
+
+Suddenly a deep sigh, apparently from the next room, reached her ear.
+She ran to the communicating door, and, opening it cautiously, looked
+in.
+
+"Poor woman!" she said to herself, "she is awake. I wonder if she
+suffers still."
+
+Then a voice called, "Cinette! little Cinette!"
+
+"How strange!" said the girl, "when I hear her speak that name, it seems
+to me the voice is familiar."
+
+"Come, Cinette!"
+
+This time the girl entered the room. She beheld a woman vainly seeking
+to raise herself in her bed.
+
+Her face was hideously scarred and seared, while the bloodshot eyes
+could not endure the light. It was clear that the poor creature had been
+the victim of a horrible accident.
+
+"I am thirsty," she faintly articulated.
+
+"Yes, mamma," answered the girl who was called Cinette.
+
+And the woman smiled. She was mad in addition to her helplessness. No
+one knew who she was, nor whence she came.
+
+The reader has recognized in the girl who ministered to her needs,
+little Cinette, the child of Simon Fougère and Françoise. She had run
+distractedly through those subterranean vaults when she lost Jacques,
+and finally escaped from the labyrinth to fall into the hands of those
+people whom Hugo has immortalized.
+
+These people--a husband, wife and children--were pillaging the dead on a
+battle-field, but when Cinette appeared they smiled upon her.
+
+The little girl could give no explanation as to why she was thus alone
+and deserted. To all questions she could only reply by the words "papa
+Simon," and "mamma Françoise." Of course this was too indefinite for
+these people to act upon; besides, at that time they had much to do--the
+invasion promised them much spoil. They took Cinette away, and after the
+peace they continued to keep her. They had amassed quite a little
+property, and bought a farm in Blaisois. Cinette was happy in these
+days, for she was too young to remember her woes.
+
+In the village there was an old soldier whose violin and songs had often
+enlivened the bivouac. He soon discovered that Cinette, for she still
+went by that name, possessed a wonderful voice. He took it into his head
+to start a musical school; he had three pupils, only two of which paid a
+sou; on the third, Cinette, he built many projects. He was making
+arrangements to transport his pupil to a wider stage, when an epidemic
+broke out in the village, and the girl was left alone in the world.
+
+The "Good Sisters" offered her a home in the convent, but she had always
+been accustomed to the open air, to flowers that nodded a welcome to her
+as she passed, and to sunshine, and was afraid of the cloister, of its
+dimness, and of watchful eyes.
+
+She finally took her departure, and begged her way to Paris. Some one
+gave her an old guitar that had been left behind by some wanderer, which
+the child had gazed at with longing eyes. She escaped the many snares
+that were laid for her, and finally found shelter in a house where only
+the very poor lived, but they were all honest, industrious people. She
+obtained the necessary permission to sing on the street, and then had
+another idea. In the part of the city where she lived there was a great
+deal of poverty, and she undertook the care of a poor woman, she was so
+confident in her ability to make money.
+
+"But the person you propose to take care of has been dreadfully
+disfigured, and is unpleasant to look upon," said one of the neighbors.
+
+The child asked to be told all that was known of the unfortunate
+creature.
+
+She had been found among the mountains long before, and the people who
+had found her were dead, but she was still taken care of by these kind,
+good creatures who, however, found the burthen a heavy one.
+
+Francine went to see this poor creature. There was a long silence, the
+girl seemed to hesitate, then, suddenly, she stooped and kissed her.
+
+"Will you go with me, mamma?" she said.
+
+Why did she use the word mamma? She could not have told herself, and yet
+this woman was really her mother. Yes, this unfortunate, this mad woman
+was Françoise, the wife of Simon. After the agony of that fearful night,
+she lost her memory and her reason. She did not know how she had
+escaped, and yet she was here and restored to her child. Fate had
+brought the two together. Mother and daughter were alike victims of the
+Talizacs.
+
+Francine took this woman, whom she had volunteered to support, and
+installed her next her own room. Day and night she watched over her with
+a solicitude that was absolutely filial.
+
+The elder woman was happy only when Cinette was with her, and when the
+girl was away, she repeated the name over and over.
+
+Francine worked hard. She now had her regular audiences, and could be
+heard at certain places at certain hours. Her programmes were regularly
+made out. The name that had been given her of the Marquise was not given
+unkindly. She was neither vain nor proud, but she wore her simple woolen
+gown in such a dainty fashion, and put the little kerchief on her head
+in such a way, that the people called her the Marquise. But to return to
+our tale.
+
+"I am going out, mamma," said Francine, "and you will be very good while
+I am away, will you not?"
+
+"Yes, Cinette--yes."
+
+"You will not try to get up?"
+
+"No, Cinette."
+
+"And to-morrow you shall have a pretty new cap--"
+
+"With ribbons?"
+
+"Yes, with ribbons."
+
+The woman laughed with delight, but presently she uttered a cry of
+distress.
+
+"The box! the box!--where is the box?"
+
+Francine had heard this same exclamation over and over again, and
+attached no significance to it, but to humor the invalid, she answered:
+
+"Oh! you shall have the box."
+
+"Yes, I must have it. Everything is in it--fortune, money, titles. Where
+have I put it?"
+
+Her voice dropped so low that Francine could hardly hear her.
+
+It was time for the girl to go out, and, as it was Mardi Gras, she hoped
+for large receipts. She returned to her chamber and took her guitar.
+Just as she was going out, she heard a knock on her door. She started,
+and called out:
+
+"Who is it?"
+
+"A friend?"
+
+"Your name?"
+
+"You do not know me."
+
+"Tell me your name."
+
+A stifled oath was the reply.
+
+"Open the door, I say. My name is Robeccal."
+
+The young girl drew a breath of relief, for she was becoming sorely
+frightened by the pursuit of the Vicomte, and an unusual knock made her
+feel that it was he. But the voice and the name of Robeccal
+tranquillized her fears. She opened the door--our old friend of the
+circus stood before her. He began to grumble and scold.
+
+"I beg your pardon," said the girl, gently, "but I am in haste, and
+if--"
+
+"Suppose you offer me a chair, young lady! What manners!"
+
+Francine repeated that she was in haste, and would be glad to know the
+occasion of his visit. Her manner was so decided that Robeccal saw that
+he must speak.
+
+"I have come," he said, "to put you in the way of earning a little
+money."
+
+"Go on."
+
+"I assist in restaurants on fête days. I am an 'extra,' you understand,
+and am now at the _Veau Sauté_, at the corner. You know--"
+
+"I know the establishment, certainly."
+
+"Well, the master wishes to give a little entertainment to his customers
+to-night, and I thought of you. He will give you twenty francs."
+
+Twenty francs! It was quite a fortune to the child, and yet she
+hesitated.
+
+"Did the master give you no note for me?" she asked, at length.
+
+"How suspicious you are! What are you afraid of!"
+
+"Nothing. I will call at the restaurant now, when I go out."
+
+"You must decide now, for if you decline I am to go for the man who has
+no arms, but who sings so well."
+
+Robeccal showed her a card on which was written the girl's address and
+that of the armless singer.
+
+Francine's hesitation vanished--she accepted the proposition.
+
+"I will go," she said, "and at what hour?"
+
+"At eight o'clock, sharp," Robeccal replied.
+
+"And how long shall I be wanted?"
+
+A wicked light came into the man's eyes.
+
+"I don't know exactly--until ten or eleven, I suppose."
+
+"But I must be home before midnight."
+
+"Oh! of course; and if you are afraid to come alone, I am at your
+service. And now, good-bye."
+
+He ran lightly down the stairs. When he reached the street he looked
+around. A man wrapped in a large cloak, a disguise much employed at that
+time, and wearing a broad-brimmed hat, approached him.
+
+"Well?" he said, quickly.
+
+"It is all right!" answered Robeccal. "She will come."
+
+This man, who was none other than Fernando, the worthy friend of the
+Vicomte de Talizac, now slipped a gold piece into the scoundrel's hand.
+
+"Twenty louis more," he said, "when the affair is accomplished!"
+
+"Very good, sir. When I undertake anything, it is sure, let me tell you.
+La Roulante will see to everything."
+
+The two men separated.
+
+While these two accomplices were talking, Francine had reached the
+Square where she was to sing.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXV.
+
+THE VEAU SAUTÉ.
+
+
+"Hurry up, Perrette! How about that sauce? Have you forgotten the
+parsley?"
+
+And the proprietor of the _Veau Sauté_ tore about in the most distracted
+manner. Aubé had dreamed of vast rooms and huge kitchens, but the
+obstinacy of the people already living in the same building could not be
+conquered, and as yet he had not obtained the space he desired. They
+resisted every offer and every threat he made. He could have borne it
+better had these refractory persons been tenants whose vicinity added
+_éclat_ to his establishment. But it was not so. These tenants were a
+man known as Iron Jaws, a rope dancer called Fanfar, a girl named
+Caillette, and a clown with an odd name.
+
+This Fanfar gave lessons in prestigiation, but the people who went up
+his private stairs were well dressed, and most of them looked like old
+soldiers.
+
+While Aubé was worrying about these matters and many more, a carriage
+drove up to the door of the restaurant, and three gentlemen got out.
+These were Frederic de Talizac, Fernando de Vellebri, and Arthur de
+Montferrand, the duelist, all strangely alike in their lack of moral
+sense and in their cynicism, neither of them hesitating to do anything,
+however evil, to gratify their passions. Room No. 11 was ready for
+these gentlemen. The waiter took their cloaks and hats. Arthur threw
+himself on a sofa, and announced that there was to be no heavy talk
+until the dessert came on.
+
+"Bravo!" said Fernando. "But perhaps you would kindly define what you
+mean by heavy talk? As for you, Frederic, I think you had an interview
+with your father to-day?"
+
+"Champagne!" shouted Frederic, flinging his glass at the door, an
+original manner of summoning a waiter, which he had invented.
+
+"Yes," he replied, "and the Marquis is resolved that the marriage shall
+take place in a fortnight--as if I had not other fish to fry!"
+
+"But it seems to me," said Arthur, "that a union so desirable in every
+respect, a fortune so large--"
+
+"Do you mean to insinuate, sir, that a fortune is essential?" asked
+Frederic, haughtily.
+
+Here the Italian interfered, and smoothed down the Vicomte's asperities.
+
+At this moment a fresh, young voice rose from the lower room, which was
+crowded, and when the voice ceased there came loud applause.
+
+"That is a charming voice!" said Arthur. "I would like to see this
+nightingale a little nearer."
+
+"And why not?" asked Talizac.
+
+Fernando wished to oppose this idea, which might disarrange his
+carefully prepared plans, but the champagne had by this time affected
+the Vicomte.
+
+"I say," he persisted, angrily, "I do not see any objection. I for one
+should like to hear the girl sing up here before the adventure."
+
+"The adventure?" repeated Montferrand.
+
+"A little surprise we have arranged for her--that is all."
+
+Arthur looked bewildered, and then exclaimed:
+
+"Ah! I see. Bravo!--call the proprietor, and bid him send the singer to
+us."
+
+"Gentlemen! gentlemen!" said Fernando, "be careful what you do. No
+imprudences! Remember that you are not in the Palais Royal. The people
+down stairs won't stand any nonsense!"
+
+Frederic rang the bell furiously, and the waiter was sent for the
+proprietor. Aubé presently appeared. He was very obsequious in his
+manner, for the party had ordered bottle after bottle of champagne.
+
+"Who is that girl singing to the people in the café?" asked Frederic,
+abruptly.
+
+"She is called the Marquise, sir--a pretty little creature, and as good
+as she is pretty!"
+
+"I dare say! Now send her up here, and tell the waiter to bring up three
+more bottles of your best champagne."
+
+Aubé stood still, twisting his cap in his hands.
+
+"Well?" said Frederic, "why don't you go?"
+
+"I wish to say, sir, that the girl is very respectable."
+
+"We don't doubt it. We will pay her for her song--three louis, five--is
+that enough?"
+
+Aubé felt that he had no right to deprive the girl of this money, and it
+was more than probable that these young fellows were not as wild as they
+seemed. Fernando's calm superciliousness reassured him in some degree.
+
+"Are you going?" asked Frederic, somewhat rudely.
+
+Aubé reluctantly left the room.
+
+The restaurant was filled with customers, all respectable people with
+the exception of those seated around a table in the further corner of
+the room--they were doubtful in appearance. When Robeccal, in the
+discharge of his duties as "extra," came to this table he lingered
+there, even drinking a glass of wine, first taking care that his
+employer could not see him.
+
+Aubé, greatly disturbed by the orders he had received, returned to the
+dining-room just as the Marquise was making her rounds to collect the
+money that was laid on the back of her guitar. Aubé touched her
+shoulder.
+
+"I want to speak to you, petite," he said, as he drew her into a corner.
+"You are not rich, I fancy?"
+
+"I should say not!" And Francine laughed. "What a queer thing to say!"
+
+"I have a proposal to make."
+
+"And what may that be?"
+
+Aubé's kindly face inspired the girl with no distrust. He hesitated.
+
+"You know," he said, "that I have no advice to give, but if you choose,
+you can make five louis."
+
+"A hundred francs! You are jesting!"
+
+"And only by singing two or three songs."
+
+"But that would be better pay than the opera singers receive!"
+
+"That may be!"
+
+"But where am I to sing?"
+
+"Here--on the next floor."
+
+"Hallo! ambassador, are you never coming?" shouted Montferrand from the
+top of the stairs.
+
+Francine started.
+
+"They are young men, are they not?"
+
+"Yes, but you need not be alarmed--they are only a little gay."
+
+A hundred francs was a good deal of money. She could buy an easy chair
+for the poor invalid, and give her a little treat.
+
+"Well?" asked Aubé, who would have been glad had she refused.
+
+"I accept," she answered, "but you must not go far away. You must be
+near in case I should call."
+
+"All right. No harm shall come to you in my house, let me tell you."
+
+The girl went toward the stairs.
+
+"What does that mean?" said one of the men at the table at the end of
+the room. "The linnet seems to be going of her own free will!"
+
+"Silence!" said Robeccal, passing the table. "Watch and be ready!"
+
+Meanwhile the people in the restaurant began to grumble at Francine's
+departure. She looked back from the stairs.
+
+"Have a little patience," she said, with her lovely smile, "when I come
+back very shortly, I will sing you my best songs."
+
+She followed Aubé to No. 11. The proprietor was astonished to see that
+the door was open, and that one of the gentlemen had vanished.
+
+Arthur and Fernando were there. Francine had seen the Italian before in
+the street, but Arthur was entirely unknown to her.
+
+"I hope, Mademoiselle, you will sing us something," said Montferrand,
+politely.
+
+Our readers will notice that this young man's instincts were not bad,
+and when removed from Frederic's influence, they resumed their
+ascendancy. The girl's gentle manner, her refined, pure face commended
+his respect.
+
+Aubé, now quite reassured, hastened back to his duties below.
+
+Francine began a prelude to a simple song, when suddenly she stopped,
+her guitar slipped from her hands. She saw Frederic de Talizac gliding
+into the room.
+
+"Go on, _ma belle_" he said, "surely you are not afraid of me!" And he
+tried to take her by the waist.
+
+"No," she replied, "I shall sing no more."
+
+Frederic, though very tipsy, threw himself in front of the door.
+
+"Yes, you will sing, and for each one of your sweet notes I will give
+you a kiss."
+
+The girl drew back from his extended arms, and turning to the two men
+who stood looking on, she cried, with infinite contempt:
+
+"Cowards! will neither of you interfere to prevent a woman from being
+insulted?"
+
+Arthur's heart was stirred by this appeal.
+
+"You are right," he replied. "Come, Frederic, no more of this!"
+
+"Are you talking to me?" hiccoughed Frederic. "Take her from me if you
+dare!" And he put his arm around her.
+
+"Help!" cried Francine. "Help!"
+
+At the same moment, Frederic received a tremendous blow from
+Montferrand.
+
+The Vicomte snatched a knife from the table, and the two men engaged in
+a hand to hand contest.
+
+Francine was so terrified that she could not move.
+
+Why had not Aubé heard this noise? We will return to the lower floor.
+
+Robeccal was disgusted when he saw Francine go up-stairs. He felt that
+the ground was cut from under his feet, and that he was to lose the
+reward he had been promised. He stole partly up the stairs and listened.
+He went on, and when the quarrel burst out and he saw the knife in the
+hand of the Vicomte, he rushed down the stairs, and summoned the men at
+the table, who were on the watch for a signal from him.
+
+Aubé had heard Francine's cry and ran to her aid, but two of the men
+summoned by Robeccal stood before the door.
+
+"Let me pass!" cried Aubé.
+
+"Softly, good sir," was the reply. "Don't meddle in what does not
+concern you."
+
+Furious at being thus braved in his own establishment, Aubé thrust the
+men aside, but was driven back by repeated blows.
+
+He turned to his customers.
+
+"Gentlemen!" he cried, "they are insulting a poor girl up-stairs. Help
+me to save her; it is the Marquise--the singer!"
+
+A number of men started up at this appeal.
+
+The two bandits stood on the stairs with knives in their hands, and feet
+and hands ready to repel any one who attempted to ascend the stairs.
+
+"Help! Murder!" shouted Aubé.
+
+Women screamed, and clung to the arms of their husbands to prevent them
+from taking part in the contest. Others, less courageous, threw bottles
+and glasses at the scoundrels who promptly returned them.
+
+In the meantime, Arthur had thrown Frederic on the floor. Fernando
+endeavored to separate them, but they were no more amenable to reason
+than if they had been wild beasts.
+
+Pale and trembling, Francine leaned against the wall. Robeccal went to
+her.
+
+"Mademoiselle," he said, "this is not my fault. Why did you come up
+here?"
+
+"Why did I?" she repeated in agony.
+
+"I got you into this trouble unintentionally, and now I must get you
+out!"
+
+She did not distrust him, she was too good for that.
+
+"Follow me!" said Robeccal. "I know a way into the street. No one will
+see you."
+
+Arthur and Frederic were still fighting; the tumult below had not
+decreased.
+
+Robeccal took the girl's hand, and led her to the door which opened into
+the private apartments of Aubé. They passed through these until they
+reached another flight of stairs. Down these the girl ran, closely
+followed by Robeccal. They went out through a narrow alley. Suddenly,
+Francine heard a whistle, and she was seized, a handkerchief over her
+head stifled her cries, and she felt that she was being carried away by
+vigorous arms.
+
+"Well done!" said Robeccal, "and now for La Roulante!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVI.
+
+A MAN CHASE.
+
+
+When the men on the stairs heard the whistle blown by Robeccal, they
+rushed through the crowd brandishing their knives. They disappeared in
+the street.
+
+Aubé hurried up-stairs. Francine had disappeared. Fernando had finally
+succeeded in separating the combatants, and pushed Frederic out of the
+door.
+
+Arthur, foaming with rage, called out to Aubé:
+
+"Make haste, the girl has been carried off by the order of these people!
+I know what I say!"
+
+Aubé hastened to his private rooms; he found the door that led to the
+stairs unlocked and open.
+
+"What scoundrels they are!" cried Aubé.
+
+"Yes," answered Montferrand, "but scoundrels who bear the best names in
+France--one is the Vicomte de Talizac, son of the Marquis de
+Fongereues."
+
+A young man suddenly appeared on the stairs.
+
+"Who speaks of Talizac and de Fongereues?" he asked.
+
+"Ah! Monsieur Fanfar! heaven has sent you to my assistance. My
+establishment is ruined, but that is nothing to the ruin of this poor
+girl!"
+
+"What poor girl?" asked Fanfar. "Pray explain yourself, Monsieur Aubé."
+
+Montferrand had heard that this Fanfar was only a rope-dancer; but his
+air and manner, his dress, too, proclaimed him to hold a very different
+position, and he was greatly attracted by his appearance.
+
+"It is a disgraceful piece of business, sir," he answered, "in which, I
+am sorry to say, I am in a measure concerned;--the Vicomte de Talizac--"
+
+"I knew it!" murmured Fanfar.
+
+"And his friend, Fernando de Vellebri--"
+
+"The Italian spy, who betrayed his brothers, the Carbonari, and is now
+the slave of the Jesuits."
+
+"All of which I knew nothing of; but at all events these two men, whom I
+have called my friends, to my shame, have carried off a young girl, a
+street singer--
+
+"A most odious crime; but have you any idea where they have taken her?"
+
+"No, not the slightest."
+
+"And this girl, has she no father, no mother?"
+
+"She is an orphan, and is called the Marquise."
+
+"Ah! but her real name? Where does she live?"
+
+"Only a little way from here, but a man named Robeccal can tell you
+exactly."
+
+"Robeccal! A miserable scoundrel!"
+
+"You know him then?"
+
+"Only too well!"
+
+"I know that the Marquise boards with a woman who is bed-ridden, and I
+remember that she is sometimes spoken of as Cinette, or Francine."
+
+"Cinette!" cried Fanfar, "how old is she!"
+
+"Fifteen or sixteen, I should say."
+
+"Merciful Heavens! Can it be she! Am I going mad?"
+
+"What are you saying, sir?" and Montferrand seemed to feel a real
+interest.
+
+"You can't understand, but I shall save her. If I chance to meet that
+Talizac, I will crush him as I would a venomous reptile!"
+
+"You are going in pursuit of the girl?" asked Aubé.
+
+"Most certainly, nor will I rest until I have rescued her!"
+
+"Accept my services," said Montferrand.
+
+"Where am I to turn? What shall I do first? My head is dizzy." He held
+himself more erect. "But this is no time to give way. Thank you, sir,
+for your generous offer, of which I may avail myself later."
+
+"I regret to have seemed, even for a moment, the accomplice of these
+men. My name is Arthur, son of the Marquis de Montferrand. Here is my
+card."
+
+Fanfar took the bit of shining pasteboard.
+
+"And here is my hand!" added Arthur.
+
+"And now," said Fanfar, after a vigorous exchange of handshaking, "and
+now we have not a moment to lose!"
+
+There was another disturbance below. A great noise, and a voice
+shouting, "Open! in the name of the law!"
+
+Fanfar started.
+
+"At last!" cried Aubé. "It is the police; probably by this time the men
+are arrested."
+
+Fanfar laid his hand on his shoulder, and said rapidly, "No, no; the
+police of Louis XVIII. do not disturb themselves for such trifles; they
+are after other game than criminals--"
+
+"Open, in the name of the king! If not, we force the door!"
+
+"These officers are in pursuit of men who have sworn eternal war against
+oppression and corruption--who detest a despotic monarchy and demand a
+free and honest republic!"
+
+"Do you speak of yourself?" asked Montferrand, quickly.
+
+Aubé opened his eyes wide. Certainly, this was a most extraordinary
+evening!
+
+"You are lost!" cried Montferrand.
+
+"Not yet!" answered Fanfar. "Pray, Monsieur Aubé, hold them in
+conversation, a few minutes. Good-bye, but remember that I shall rescue
+Francine." As he spoke, he ran lightly up the upper stairs.
+
+Aubé, according to his instructions, slowly raised the bars of the door,
+at which the police were impatiently knocking. When at last the door was
+opened, a crowd poured in, headed by a Police Commissioner.
+
+"Keeping me waiting in this way will cost you dear, let me tell you!"
+foamed this important functionary.
+
+"But why are you here?" stammered the proprietor of the restaurant.
+
+"I don't suppose we are bound to tell you that, are we? But first, who
+is that man?" and he pointed to Arthur, who pale and covered with blood,
+was not especially reassuring in appearance.
+
+"That man, sir, of whom you speak so rudely," said Arthur, with some
+heat, "is the son of the Marquis de Montferrand."
+
+"I beg ten thousand pardons!" said the official, in the most obsequious
+tone, "but this house is a den--"
+
+"A den!" gasped Aubé.
+
+"Yes, a den where the enemies of our beloved king plot together."
+
+"And who are these enemies? What may their names be?"
+
+"Gudel, or Iron Jaws, and a scoundrel named Fanfar."
+
+"Indeed! Very good, sir, if you have come to arrest these men, do not
+let me detain you!"
+
+Arthur and Aubé exchanged a glance. Fanfar was by this time undoubtedly
+in safety.
+
+"The house is well watched," continued the Commissioner, "and they
+cannot escape our vigilance!"
+
+Montferrand started on hearing this. The Commissioner ran up-stairs,
+followed by his men. He reached the upper floor. An oath was heard.
+
+"The birds have flown!" he shouted.
+
+"They went by the roof!" some one called from below. This some one was
+Cyprien, who had been on guard in the street, and had seen forms against
+the sky.
+
+"To the roof, then! And remember your orders, take them alive or dead!"
+
+Cyprien, as agile as a tiger cat, now stood by the side of the
+Commissioner.
+
+"You must go out this way," he said, pointing to the window.
+
+"Zounds!" muttered the Commissioner, drawing back.
+
+"Take care!" sneered Cyprien, "the king has his eyes on you!"
+
+Thus cheered and encouraged, the Commissioner stepped out on the narrow
+cornice.
+
+"There they are!" cried Cyprien. "There they are! They wish to reach the
+next house. We shall have them! we shall have them!"
+
+Gudel and Fanfar had gone as far as they could. They found they must
+turn. Fanfar stopped short and seemed to be doing something to a
+chimney.
+
+"Surrender!" shouted the Commissioner, some distance off.
+
+"Surrender!" repeated Cyprien.
+
+At this moment a man was seen to vault into space; it was Fanfar, who
+had sprang across the gulf between the two houses. With him he had taken
+the end of the rope which he had fastened to the chimney. He held the
+rope so firmly that it made a bridge. Gudel began the perilous voyage.
+
+"At all events, we will have a dead body!" growled the Commissioner, who
+advanced to cut the rope.
+
+Cyprien did not at first understand.
+
+"Stop!" he shouted. "Stop!"
+
+To kill Gudel was ruin, for he was the only human being who could prove
+Fanfar's birth. But he was too late, the zealous Commissioner had cut
+the rope.
+
+"Fool!" shouted Cyprien, and then he listened to hear the dull thud of
+the body falling on the stones below.
+
+But he heard nothing, for Gudel had not fallen. By a movement more rapid
+than thought, Fanfar, divining what was to happen, had thrown himself
+flat on the roof with his arms extended beyond the gutter, and had
+shouted to Gudel:
+
+"Hold fast to the rope!"
+
+Iron Jaws snatched the rope between his formidable jaws, and when the
+rope was cut he simply hung and waited. Fanfar slowly drew him up. It
+was a magnificent display of energy and strength. And presently Fanfar
+and Gudel stood side by side.
+
+"Now, gentlemen, it is your turn," said Fanfar.
+
+"No! it is my turn!" shouted Cyprien, taking a pistol from his pocket
+and firing.
+
+The ball broke a slate which fell into the street. As to Gudel and
+Fanfar, they were far away and a high chimney hid them from view.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVII.
+
+A GHOST.
+
+
+Although our two friends had made their escape for the time being, they
+were by no means in an enviable position, for it must be confessed that
+midnight on the roof of an unknown house is not very delightful. Iron
+Jaws and Fanfar had accomplished a miracle of strength and audacity, but
+what were they to do next?
+
+"I must say that I should like a few hours of rest," said Gudel.
+
+"Yes, and we must have a little talk, but where I know not."
+
+Fanfar's tone struck his friend as being rather depressed.
+
+"What is it?" said Gudel. "You have had encounters with the police
+before, and will have again, I imagine."
+
+"It is not that; but first we will walk over these roofs, to the end."
+
+"Very good!"
+
+They started, Fanfar going a little in front. Suddenly he stopped.
+
+"Zounds!" he said, "here is a wide courtyard; it is impossible for us to
+cross it. We must get down now."
+
+"And how, for Heaven's sake!"
+
+"By taking hold of the gutters and the balconies."
+
+"One would suppose that we were gorillas," sighed Gudel.
+
+"We must do something!"
+
+"Yes, but I am a little heavy, as you have reason to acknowledge. How
+can we tell that guards are not below waiting for us. Let us see if we
+can't get into some window."
+
+"And find the room inhabited?"
+
+"Oh! I will explain that we don't mean to steal, but that we will give
+him money if he will aid us."
+
+"Very good. Now do you take the lead, I will follow."
+
+Fanfar was strangely preoccupied. While Gudel talked to him a voice was
+continually repeating in his ear:
+
+"Cinette! Cinette!"
+
+Gudel saw that there was something unusual going on in the mind of his
+friend. He had been long accustomed to unquestioning obedience to
+Fanfar. Ever since La Roulante left him after the attempt at
+assassination, Gudel had been a different man and subject to fits of
+great depression from which Fanfar alone could rouse him, and when
+Fanfar rushed into his room calling out, "The police! the police!" Gudel
+followed him without a question.
+
+Suddenly Gudel stumbled. Fanfar caught him, but it was too late. There
+was a crash of broken glass. Gudel had broken one of those small windows
+in the roof which landlords consider sufficient for tenants who pay only
+sixty francs per annum for their attics. And from this window emerged a
+long, strange, white object, which was probably a man, as it terminated
+in a white cotton nightcap. This strange form had two long arms. One
+hand held a candle and the other sheltered it from the wind. There was a
+yell of amazement from their throats.
+
+"Fanfar!"
+
+"Bobichel!"
+
+"I thought you were dead, Bobichel," said Iron Jaws, severely.
+
+"No, I am not dead; but I was asleep."
+
+"You are alone!"
+
+"Of course!"
+
+"Then you can take us in."
+
+Bobichel uttered an oath. "Of course I can!" he shouted.
+
+It was clear that he was not a ghost. Ghosts do not swear nor carry
+candles in their hands. Finally the three were seated in a small attic
+about four yards square. They all talked at once.
+
+How did Bobichel get there? Where had he been?
+
+He had been taken to the hospital and there detained on account of some
+peculiarities in his condition, which greatly excited the curiosity of
+the medical students. One day as Bobichel was recovering, he was in the
+garden and noticed a door in the wall, and saw that the gardener had
+left his key in it. He selected the moment judiciously, and finally
+found himself on the road to Paris, where he had arrived that very
+morning. He had not a sou, but he had rented this garret which the
+landlord had had on his hands for three months by reason of the rats,
+and therefore nobly refrained from asking money in advance. A bundle of
+straw had taken his remaining five sous, and on this the ex-clown
+extended himself, thinking of the past and resolutely closing his eyes
+to the future. His first care was to regain his strength, which had been
+sorely taxed by his journey. While half asleep, he had heard steps on
+the roof, and with a vague belief that the whole hospital force were in
+pursuit of him, he resolved to brave them. Fate had brought to him,
+however, his two best friends--Gudel and Fanfar.
+
+After they had heard this explanation, it became Bobichel's turn to
+question.
+
+"Let Fanfar tell you," said Gudel. "I really know nothing except that he
+bade me fly, that my neck has been nearly broken, and that he saved my
+life; but why I have been obliged to run about over roofs in this way, I
+really can't say."
+
+"Perhaps you are still conspiring?" asked Bobichel, innocently.
+
+Fanfar shouted with laughter. "Yes," he replied, "and more than ever!"
+
+"Tell me," asked the clown, "is it a difficult trade? I have nothing in
+the world to do, and I must have some occupation, of course."
+
+"We will see about that later."
+
+"You have said nothing about Mademoiselle Caillette."
+
+"She is in safety. She knew nothing of the pursuit of the police.
+To-morrow, before she begins to be uneasy, we will send her word where
+we are, and bid her come to us."
+
+The clock struck two.
+
+"Do you hear that, Bobichel?" said Fanfar. "You are far from strong, and
+must rest."
+
+"No, no. I have found you, and there is rest in that!"
+
+"My dear fellow, you must get yourself into the best possible condition
+if you join us. You will need your legs, I assure you. Sleep, Bobichel,
+sleep."
+
+The truth was that, in spite of his good intentions, Bobichel was dead
+with sleep, and presently he tumbled upon his mattress, and loud snores
+informed the two friends that he had succumbed to their entreaties.
+Then, and not until then, Fanfar leaned toward Gudel.
+
+"You will admit," he said, "that I do not easily become a prey to
+illusions, but the truth is, that I am greatly disturbed by something
+that has happened. Will you answer a few questions?"
+
+"Certainly, my boy--any questions."
+
+"You know, my second father, the strange accident by which I was thrown
+in your way. You have told me of the researches you made in the village
+of Leigoutte. You learned, did you not, that my mother perished in a
+fire?"
+
+"Yes--a fire set by the Cossacks."
+
+"And my father?"
+
+"Died on the field of battle, in the defence of France!"
+
+"I am haunted by a dim remembrance of a flight through the darkness,
+leading my little sister by my side, and then she seemed to vanish."
+
+"And you have never seen her since?"
+
+"No; but I have never forgotten her, and I am convinced that if she is
+living she has not forgotten her brother. Ah! when I think of all this,
+I hate more than ever the oppressors of France, who have opened a road
+to the throne over dead bodies!"
+
+"But why are you troubled with these thoughts to-day?"
+
+"I will tell you. My sister's name was Francine, but we called her
+Cinette, and this evening a girl was carried away by violence from the
+_Veau Sauté_."
+
+"And that Aubé has such a good face!"
+
+"Oh! he was not concerned in this villainy. The crime was committed by a
+man who has more than once crossed our path--the Vicomte de Talizac!"
+
+"Oh! what a family that is!" cried Gudel. "It was his lacquey, or his
+father's, who denounced us to-night!"
+
+"This is not all. The truth is, Gudel--you will probably think me
+mad--but I am convinced that the girl who was carried off--the one
+called Cinette--"
+
+"You mean that you believe her to be your--"
+
+"I can't reason," interrupted Fanfar. "It is the name of my little
+sister, and the conviction is unalterable that this girl is my sister.
+And now I can do nothing for her, and she in such deadly peril!" He
+stopped short. "Gudel," he exclaimed, "you have never seen me shrink
+from danger?"
+
+"Not I."
+
+"And yet, to-night I feel as weak as a child."
+
+Tears came into the eyes of Fanfar as he spoke. His nerves were
+thoroughly shaken by the exertions he had made to save Gudel and
+himself.
+
+Bobichel here lifted himself up.
+
+"Fanfar," he said, "let me help you!"
+
+At these kind words uttered by this honest, faithful voice, Fanfar
+started. He had no right to despair, he said to himself, when he had
+such friends.
+
+"You are right, Bobichel," he cried. "I have no right to talk of my
+energy, for I am trembling like a woman!"
+
+"I should like to tell you what I think, sir," the clown stammered,
+"though I do not wish to take a liberty, but didn't you say you thought
+you had found your sister?"
+
+"Oh! do not say that!"
+
+"Yes, I must say it, and I think it would be best if you made up your
+mind that it was she, and acted on that supposition."
+
+"I think you are right. I am told that this girl lives with a poor
+paralytic. I will go to her and question her. From her replies I shall
+be able to judge if chance has really put me on the track of her whom I
+lost so long ago. But we ought to follow these scoundrels at once!"
+
+"I will see to them!" said Iron Jaws.
+
+"Can you give me the smallest clue?"
+
+"Only that of Robeccal's name."
+
+"Robeccal's name!" exclaimed Bobichel. "If he has anything to do with
+this matter I will soon finish him up."
+
+Fanfar laid his hand on Gudel's shoulder.
+
+"My friend," he said, "I hesitate to touch an unhealed wound, but we
+must speak frankly to each other. La Roulante and this Robeccal went
+away together. This woman was thoroughly vicious; it is difficult to
+imagine the scale of vice to which she would not fall. I am sorry to
+pain you, but I feel sure if Robeccal has assisted in carrying away this
+girl that he has placed her with La Roulante. Therefore, while I go to
+see Cinette's sick friend, you will hunt up this woman and her
+accomplice. Will you do this, Gudel?"
+
+Gudel, whose face had been buried in his hands, now looked up.
+
+"Fanfar," he said, "were I to die of shame and grief, I will obey you,
+for I should be doing a good act."
+
+"This girl must be saved! I dare not indulge in the hope that she is
+Cinette, and, moreover, I need all my courage. Gudel, your hand.
+Bobichel, I rely on you!"
+
+These friends in a cordial grasp of their hands, exchanged a solemn oath
+which bound them to the sacred cause of justice.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVIII.
+
+CINETTE! CINETTE!
+
+
+Francine's chamber is dark. The little bed with its white curtains looks
+as if it were built of marble. There is not a sound. The room is empty.
+The hours pass on, and still Francine does not return. Her absence
+excites great wonder in the house, for she is always in very early.
+"Could anything have happened to her?" one person asked another, but not
+a voice breathed a word reflecting on the girl's purity. Had any one
+known where she had gone, some one would have started in search of her.
+The porter looked once more down the street; the clock had struck
+twelve. No one came.
+
+In the gray, chilly dawn, a hand slowly pushed open the door of
+Cinette's room. It is the mad woman. She instinctively knows that
+Francine never goes to sleep at night without kissing her. She has not
+felt those dewy lips touch her forehead this night. Restless and uneasy
+this sick woman, who for years has hardly left her bed, has crawled to
+Cinette's room. She is familiar with it, for she has many times implored
+Francine to take her there; and when the girl succeeded in doing so, the
+old woman laughed to see the curtains so white and the flowers so gay.
+
+She reaches the bed, and feels with her poor withered hands for the
+girl's head. Cinette is not there, and the poor creature realizes it and
+weeps in agony. She would have reminded one of an Hindoo idol had she
+been seen. An hour elapsed, but the poor deformed woman still lies
+there.
+
+Suddenly she raises her head. She hears rapid steps on the stairs. When
+Cinette went out she had locked the door of her room. The porter to be
+sure had another key. When some one knocked at the porter's lodge he was
+not yet up, and answered gruffly that the Marquise had not come in and
+the old woman could not move. There were several rapid knocks on the
+door.
+
+"Open! open!" a voice called.
+
+The voice had a strange, familiar tone. She listens. And Fanfar, for it
+is he, repeats his demand.
+
+"In the name of Francine, I beg you to open the door. It is for her
+sake."
+
+By what miracle did this paralyzed frame struggle to her feet? She takes
+a step--then another.
+
+"Make haste!" said Fanfar.
+
+The woman obeys. She turns the key in the lock, with many efforts, but
+it is done. Fanfar enters, and in the pale morning light is confronted
+by this horrible apparition. He contemplates her with horror and pity.
+
+"Madame," he said, "is not Francine here?"
+
+She did not reply. She is looking at him earnestly.
+
+"She has been carried off, by a man named Talizac."
+
+The sick woman tried to repeat this name.
+
+"Tell me," continued Fanfar, "the life of this girl, who cares for you,
+who loves you, may depend on what you tell me. Have you ever seen any
+man by the name of Talizac here? And a woman of great size known as La
+Roulante, has she never been here to propose an infamous bargain?"
+
+But he is interrupted. The paralytic falls upon her knees, and
+stretching out her arms, cries:
+
+"Jacques! Jacques!"
+
+"Who is this terrible creature," asks Jacques, "who calls me by the name
+of my boyhood?"
+
+Suddenly a strange idea flashes into his mind. He looks eagerly into the
+eyes of the poor woman. He recognizes her; he leans over her.
+
+"You called me Jacques, did you not? Yes, that was my name, when I was a
+boy in a village among the mountains. My father's name was Simon, Simon
+Fougère, and I had a little sister Cinette."
+
+The woman quivered from head to foot. She threw her arms around his
+neck.
+
+"Jacques! my child! My name is Françoise, and I am the widow of Simon
+Fougère."
+
+"Mother! dear mother!"
+
+This shock has been so great that the vail that obscured the poor
+woman's brain was rent in twain. She sees, she knows, she understands.
+It is he--it is the boy she held on her knees, in those days so long
+ago. He took her tenderly in his arms, and both weep.
+
+"Ah! dear mother," he said, "you braved death for the sake of your
+children. How did you escape?"
+
+But the momentary glimmer of reason had in a measure vanished, and when
+he spoke of Cinette she did not seem to be aware of who the girl was.
+
+"You must listen to me, mother," said Fanfar, rapidly. "Jacques was not
+alone in that inn. There was another child; she was small, she had light
+curls."
+
+His voice was so sympathetic and persuasive that Françoise saw it all,
+saw the little rosy face once more.
+
+What was to be done? Time was passing, and now Fanfar knew that she who
+was in the power of a scoundrel, was his little sister Francine. He sees
+a miniature hanging on the wall, he takes it down.
+
+"Yes, it is she--it is Cinette!" he cries.
+
+The sick woman snatches it from his hand. She looks at it.
+
+"Yes, it is my child."
+
+"And you never knew it before?"
+
+"No, she called me mamma, but I never called her daughter."
+
+"And, mother, your daughter is in danger."
+
+"Ah! I knew it, she did not kiss me to-night. Where is she?"
+
+"In the power of a scoundrel, of the Vicomte de Talizac."
+
+"Talizac!" The sick woman was troubled by the name, but she could not
+grasp the memories it had aroused.
+
+The door opened hastily, and Gudel appeared.
+
+"Gudel! Have you found Robeccal or La Roulante?"
+
+"They have vanished. They have been living in la Rue des Venaigrurs, but
+last night they announced that they were about to move."
+
+"And this is all you have discovered?"
+
+"All."
+
+"Then Gudel, I must tell you that this unfortunate creature I have in my
+arms is my mother, and Francine is my sister."
+
+Gudel looked utterly aghast. Before he could speak, Bobichel appeared.
+
+"I beg your pardon, sir," he said to Fanfar, "but knowing that the sick
+lady was alone, I went for some one."
+
+Caillette stepped forward.
+
+The girl said in a low voice to Fanfar:
+
+"Will you allow me to take care of your mother?"
+
+She then turned to Françoise, and kissed her as Cinette would have
+done.
+
+"Good, kind souls!" murmured Fanfar, "with the assistance of such people
+we ought to succeed."
+
+He kissed his mother again, then turning to Gudel and Bobichel, he
+cried:
+
+"Come with me! And may Eternal Justice be with us also!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIX.
+
+A CONSPIRACY.
+
+
+When Francine found herself in the power of these scoundrels she fainted
+away, and these men carried her over their shoulders as if she had been
+a bag of flour, perfectly indifferent to her beauty.
+
+Robeccal suddenly bade them halt. They had reached the vile place known
+as the Cour de Bretagne, a part of Paris known for its poverty and vice.
+
+"I think it is about time!" grumbled one of Robeccal's men in reply.
+
+"Oh! I suppose you thought you were to be paid for nothing, did you?"
+
+Without heeding the growling of these fellows, Robeccal stepped up to a
+door and knocked. It was opened by a person who stood back in the
+shadow, and a hurried conversation took place. Satisfied apparently with
+what he heard, Robeccal bade his men follow him. They went to
+Belleville, which at that time was an excessively pretty place, as
+almost all the houses of any pretension had gardens and grounds.
+Robeccal had been extremely adroit in diverting suspicion and the
+observation of the people they encountered. He now knocked at a door in
+a wall half hidden by overhanging ivy.
+
+"Who is there?" called a woman's voice.
+
+"Robec and the kid," was the reply.
+
+The door opened noiselessly on well-oiled hinges.
+
+"Come in, all of you." It was Roulante who spoke.
+
+Francine was at once carried to a little cottage at the foot of a long
+garden, where, still unconscious, she was laid on a couch.
+
+Then Robeccal paid his assistants the sum agreed upon. They were not
+altogether satisfied, but he managed to get rid of them.
+
+La Roulante was unchanged since the day when she and her lover discussed
+the assassination of Iron Jaws.
+
+"I have done well, have I not?" asked Robeccal, with a friendly tap on
+the massive shoulders of this monstrosity.
+
+"Her beauty is not marred, I hope?" she asked, anxiously.
+
+"I am not such a fool as that! But I am afraid that the handkerchief was
+too tight. She is confoundedly pretty, that is a fact!"
+
+"What is that to you?" asked the giantess, angrily. "Now give me that
+bottle."
+
+"What are you going to do?"
+
+"None of your business! Hand it here."
+
+The woman poured out something that looked like wine, and dropped a
+spoonful between the girl's lips. She had so much difficulty in doing
+so, that Robeccal took a knife from his pocket, and inserted it between
+Francine's close shut teeth. As soon as the liquid disappeared down the
+girl's throat she started.
+
+"You are not poisoning her?" asked Robeccal.
+
+"Am I a fool? Hark! I hear a carriage. Take this girl up-stairs."
+
+Robeccal snatched Francine from the sofa, and ran lightly up the stairs.
+
+The room above was elegantly furnished, and had long windows looking out
+upon the garden, which seemed to stretch out indefinitely. In reality it
+ended at no very great distance in a wall sixteen feet in height.
+
+As Robeccal laid the girl on the bed, he looked at her again with some
+anxiety. She was absolutely motionless.
+
+There came a knock at the door. Robeccal started.
+
+"That must be he!" said La Roulante.
+
+It was in fact Talizac, who had arrived. Fernando was with him, but the
+Vicomte had knocked with the handle of his cane. It was not the signal
+agreed upon, and the door was not opened. Suddenly Frederic uttered an
+oath.
+
+"Oh! it is he!" said Robeccal. "That is better than a visiting card!"
+
+But La Roulante insisted on a little argument through the door before
+she would consent to move the heavy bolts.
+
+"Damned sorceress!" cried Talizac, "you deserve that I should cut your
+face with my cane, for keeping me waiting so long."
+
+La Roulante made no reply to this gentle address, and Talizac, with
+blood-stained face and torn clothing, entered the house, followed by
+Fernando, who was as dignified and correct in costume as he always was.
+
+When Talizac reached the salon, he dropped into a chair. "Water! for the
+love of Heaven, give me some water!" he murmured. He felt almost ill,
+and would have been glad of a few hours of rest. "Is she here?" he
+asked.
+
+"Yes, she is here," answered La Roulante.
+
+Talizac rose. "I must repair the disorder of my toilette," he said.
+"Robeccal, come with me."
+
+On Talizac's return, he asked La Roulante where the Marquise was.
+
+"Oh! she is asleep," was the reply.
+
+"Show me where she is, and move a little faster!"
+
+"It strikes me, sir, that you are not over polite," muttered Robeccal.
+
+"Let him have his own way," sneered the giantess; "he is in a hurry to
+see his darling, and has no time to be civil!" She made a grotesque
+reverence as she spoke. She preceded the Vicomte to show him the way.
+"Do you know," she cried, stopping on the stairs, "that the girl is as
+pretty as a pink."
+
+"That is none of your affairs," answered Talizac, roughly, "I pay you to
+serve me, not to talk!"
+
+"You are a little hard on us, I think," said La Roulante, with a sneer,
+"but I suppose when people are rich they can say and do as they please!"
+
+"Is that the room?" Talizac asked, as he reached the top of the stairs,
+"if so, open the door at once, or I will force it!"
+
+"No, you won't injure my house like that! But you want to see her, do
+you? Very well, I will show her to you, then."
+
+She quickly slid back a narrow panel in the door, which permitted him to
+look into the room.
+
+"Look in, gentlemen and ladies," said La Roulante, in the sing-song tone
+of a showman at the circus, "look in, it won't cost you anything!" And
+then the creature laughed.
+
+Talizac did not heed her, but leaning toward the open panel looked at
+Francine, who lay with her arms folded on her breast like a child. Her
+hair was loosened, and nothing could have been lovelier than this face
+with its delicate features, reminding one of Raphael's pictures. Talizac
+looked, and forgot that this child was the victim of a miserable
+conspiracy. He was so impressed by her beauty and her innocence that he
+was ready to kneel before her. But La Roulante touched his arm with a
+cynical laugh.
+
+"Open the door, I say!"
+
+La Roulante closed the panel with a snap, and slowly drew a key from her
+pocket and stood with it in her fingers, and then said quietly and
+firmly:
+
+"If I unlock that door, it will cost you twenty thousand francs!"
+
+Talizac started back. "What do you mean?" he exclaimed.
+
+"Just what I say, twenty thousand francs!"
+
+"But this is abominable. Have I not paid the sum agreed upon?"
+
+"A trifle, yes; but that won't do!"
+
+"It is robbery, bare-faced robbery--"
+
+"None of that, sir, you are not so honest yourself, that you can afford
+to taunt others!"
+
+He looked at her in astonishment, and then rushed at the door as if to
+force it open. She called for Robeccal, who hurried to obey her summons.
+Talizac called Fernando, and Robeccal turned back. Drawing an enormous
+knife, he said, fiercely:
+
+"Don't you interfere! My wife will settle her own matters with this
+gentleman!"
+
+Fernando's attitude during the fight between Frederic and Montferrand
+has already informed us as to the courage of this man. Perhaps he was
+wise in not risking his life to defend Talizac, whom he estimated at his
+proper value. He was interested in the Fongereues family only as an
+emissary of that Society which at that time labored to strangle
+Liberalism at its birth.
+
+"Very good!" answered Fernando, shrugging his shoulders indifferently,
+but as he did not propose to be mixed up in any disagreeable affair in
+this house, he determined to take himself off.
+
+The giantess was not alarmed by Talizac's mad attempt. She calmly lifted
+him by the collar and landed him on the stairs, half way down.
+
+"Robbers! Murderers!" shouted the Vicomte.
+
+"Confound you! hold your tongue!" said Robeccal, flourishing the knife
+which had such an effect on Fernando.
+
+"Why do you not keep your word?" angrily asked the Vicomte; "you
+promised--"
+
+"People like us do not keep our promises," answered La Roulante,
+cynically. "You paid us for carrying off the girl, you paid us for
+giving her a shelter; we have done both. But if you wish to enter that
+room it will cost you twenty thousand francs!"
+
+"But that is an enormous sum!" moaned Talizac.
+
+"Not to a man like you, who has a grandee for a father, and a mother
+rolling in wealth. She has diamonds, plenty of them!"
+
+"Wretches that you are!"
+
+"Thank you! I don't care for any more of these hard names, if it is all
+the same to you! And now let me tell you, if you don't hand over this
+money that the police will be at your heels."
+
+At the word police, Fernando went to the Vicomte. "Come," he said, "we
+had better not remain in this cut-throat place. You must give the matter
+up, that is all there is to be said."
+
+"No, I tell you, no!" Feeling in his pocket, Talizac drew out a handful
+of gold and flung it at the woman.
+
+"Take this," he cried, "and unlock that door!"
+
+La Roulante counted the money. "No," she replied, "this is but
+thirty-two louis."
+
+"Come," persisted Fernando, dragging Talizac away.
+
+"Call again!" shouted the woman. "You need not be in a hurry, but call
+again!"
+
+And the door closed.
+
+"My idea is a good one," said La Roulante to Robeccal. "He will come
+back, and will bring the twenty thousand francs!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXX.
+
+MACHIAVELLI & CO.
+
+
+Day was breaking. The Marquis de Fongereues was standing in his
+dressing-room, listening with frowning brow to Cyprien, who was
+narrating the events of the night.
+
+"I assure you, sir," said the valet, obsequiously, "that every precaution
+was taken, and yet we failed."
+
+"There is one comfort--that Fanfar is every day compromising himself
+more deeply with these conspirators."
+
+"Yes, and when the hour comes, Fanfar's condemnation is certain."
+
+"But if he escapes us?"
+
+"Impossible! We shall have him, even if we are forced to put the entire
+police on his track!"
+
+A lacquey knocked at the door and entered.
+
+"The Marquis de Montferrand desires to see you, sir, on a matter of
+great importance."
+
+"Show him up at once!" said his master, who added to Cyprien: "Do not go
+away. I do not like this visit--I may need your services. Take your
+position behind that portière."
+
+The heavy folds had scarcely fallen over him when the Marquis appeared.
+He was a noble-looking, white haired old man. He was excessively pale.
+
+"Monsieur de Fongereues," he said, "we are morally responsible for the
+crimes our children commit, are we not?"
+
+"How do you mean?"
+
+"I speak of the Vicomte de Talizac, who is dishonoring himself,
+dishonors you, and compromises the cause to which you belong!"
+
+"My son is young--if he has committed some peccadillo----"
+
+"Peccadillo is hardly the word to use. Are you thus lenient toward one
+who is some day to bear your name?"
+
+Fongereues writhed under this severe language, and yet he tried to
+contain himself, for De Montferrand was a precious ally. It was he who
+had induced Monsieur de Salves to accept the overtures of marriage made
+by the De Fongereues family.
+
+"Speak," he said, "speak frankly. Your age and the long intimacy
+existing between our families give you the right to do so."
+
+"The Vicomte de Talizac has this night endeavored to murder my son!"
+
+"Impossible, sir!"
+
+"My son never lies. He endeavored to prevent an infamous act, and
+Talizac attacked him with a knife. Arthur in return slapped the
+Vicomte's face."
+
+Fongereues started forward.
+
+"Wait!" said the old gentleman. "Hear my tale. Talizac paid scoundrels
+to abduct a girl, a street singer. My son became disgusted with the
+adventure, and it was then that the Vicomte attacked him. To-morrow the
+journals will all have this tale. I shall lay the facts before Monsieur
+de Salves, as it was I who acted as intermediary in the proposed
+marriage."
+
+Fongereues became livid. He staggered, and caught at a table for
+support.
+
+At this moment a portière was lifted, and Magdalena, Talizac's mother,
+appeared. Fongereues exclaimed:
+
+"Madame! your son is a scoundrel. He is ruined, as are we all! This is
+the result of the education you have given him!"
+
+Magdalena looked perfectly unmoved.
+
+"Monsieur de Montferrand," she said, "I am aware that my son has been
+unfortunate enough to quarrel with yours. I come with his apologies."
+
+"Apologies!" repeated both gentlemen, in amazement.
+
+"You are astonished, I see, but remember that I am a mother, though I
+bear the name of de Fongereues. I know that my son has been greatly in
+the wrong. I know the whole story, and I cannot see why there should be
+so much said because the Vicomte de Talizac chanced to admire a daughter
+of the people. You talk of crime, of infamy. These are large words for a
+small matter. But the quarrel between the young men is of more
+importance. They had both been drinking, and I sincerely trust that such
+folly will be forgotten in view of the old friendship between the
+families. And I authorize you to kiss my hand as a token of forgiveness
+and reconciliation."
+
+This little speech had been delivered with such assurance and ease that
+the old Marquis was nearly taken off his feet. The fair Magdalena was
+still beautiful.
+
+Monsieur de Montferrand bowed over the fair hand, and Fongereues
+wondered and admired.
+
+"And now let us talk a little," the lady said, as she seated herself. "I
+must not omit to say that my son promises not to see this girl again--it
+was but a passing fever. I realize that, and I promise to use all my
+influence with my son to induce him to forget this affair. But what are
+we to do to silence the scandal which will certainly be on every tongue
+to-morrow? Yes, that is the first consideration. The girl will be free
+in a few hours, and her silence can be bought. I am particularly anxious
+that there shall be no talk, as it would interfere greatly with my
+plans."
+
+Fongereues ventured to ask to what plans his wife referred.
+
+"You are aware," she said, "that for some time I have been anxious to
+obtain for my son a captaincy in His Majesty's Guards."
+
+"Well?" asked her husband, breathlessly.
+
+"I have received the royal promise, and to-day Talizac will have his
+commission, and also the order of Saint-Louis."
+
+This was an immense joy to Fongereues, and from that moment the
+monarchist--the Marquis de Montferrand--felt that Talizac, a captain in
+the King's Guard, could do no evil.
+
+"Forgive a mother's vanity," continued Magdalena. "I have sent out a
+large number of invitations for this evening, and as soon as the officer
+of His Majesty's household hands to my son the commission which he has
+won by his merits and the badge of the Legion of Honor, Monsieur de
+Fongereues will officially announce the marriage of his son to
+Mademoiselle Salves. I rely on your aid, Monsieur de Montferrand."
+
+"Ah! Madame," cried the old Marquis, "you are excessively clever, and
+you are an angel!"
+
+She smiled.
+
+"Arthur will come with you, I am sure, so that no cloud shall remain in
+our sky."
+
+"Certainly, Madame, my son will come. Captain of the Guards--Chevalier
+de Saint-Louis. Zounds! that is a good deal for one day!"
+
+"To-night, then, I shall see you, Marquis!" said Magdalena, as she rose
+from her chair.
+
+Montferrand raised her hands to his lips once more, and took his leave.
+
+Instantly Fongereues turned to his wife.
+
+"Is this true?" he asked.
+
+She shrugged her shoulders disdainfully, and left the room in silence.
+She went to her son's chamber.
+
+"It is all settled," she said to him. "In a few hours you will have the
+twenty thousand francs you need to silence this scandal, and you will
+try to make yourself worthy of the favor of your king."
+
+As soon as his mother left the room, Frederic sent to the house at
+Belleville, by a trusty messenger, the following note:
+
+"I will be with you at four o'clock--shall bring the sum required. I
+desire that you shall leave me alone in the house with----you know."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXI.
+
+TRIUMPH.
+
+
+A triumph like this was, of course, to be celebrated by La Roulante and
+Robeccal after their own fashion. They sat opposite each other at a
+table covered with bottles. In the centre lay the bag of gold. As they
+talked they played with it, making it up in little piles and arranging
+it in figures.
+
+"We will buy a little place in the country, now," said La Roulante, as
+she filled her glass.
+
+"Why does the girl sleep like this?" asked Robeccal.
+
+"Oh! it is a secret that I learned some time ago--to make little girls
+submissive."
+
+There was a sudden sound, a long, shivering sigh from above stairs.
+
+"Did you hear that?" asked Robeccal, in a startled tone.
+
+"It is nothing!" answered La Roulante, superciliously. "It is only the
+girl waking up at last!"
+
+"But she will scream, I am sure!"
+
+"Let her, if she dare!" and the giantess clenched her enormous fist. "I
+would crush her to jelly if she did!"
+
+"And then you would lose the twenty thousand francs!"
+
+The woman nodded in a tipsy manner.
+
+"That's so!" she answered. "I had best go and talk to the Princess,
+anyway."
+
+Another long sigh.
+
+"I am coming! I am coming!" grunted La Roulante, slowly feeling her way
+up the stairs that creaked under her weight. She drew the key from her
+pocket with considerable difficulty, and finally succeeded in opening
+the door.
+
+The young girl lay in the same position, but she seemed oppressed by a
+nightmare, for big tears rolled down her cheeks and sighs rent her
+breast.
+
+La Roulante went to the side of the bed.
+
+"Well, my child," she said, endeavoring to soften her harsh voice, "how
+are you to-night? Do you want anything?"
+
+Francine's eyelids fluttered, and then slowly opened. A look of terrible
+horror came on her face as she beheld this most repulsive creature.
+
+"Where am I?" faintly ejaculated the poor child.
+
+"You are with good friends, who are anxious to make you happy."
+
+Francine frowned. She was evidently trying to remember what had taken
+place.
+
+La Roulante grew bolder. She seated herself on the foot of the bed.
+
+"Virtue is a very good thing," she said, "but it neither feeds you nor
+clothes you. And it is rather a hard thing to starve and be cold when
+you are young, and then die in a hospital when you grow old. If a girl
+only realized this, she would never refuse what a nice young fellow
+offered!"
+
+Francine started up with a burning face.
+
+"What are you saying?" she cried. "But I do not wish to understand.
+Where am I?" She wrung her hands. "I remember now! I was gagged and
+carried away. I am not an ignorant child--I know too well the wickedness
+of this world, and I understand all. A villain, whose name my lips shall
+never pronounce, has placed me in this woman's house." Francine grasped
+La Roulante's arm. "Move aside," she said, "let me pass!"
+
+La Roulante now stood in front of the door.
+
+"Listen to me," said Francine. "I will forgive you if you let me go now.
+If you refuse, I will call for aid, and I will denounce you to the
+police!"
+
+"It is too late, little girl, too late! Your lover was here with you all
+night!"
+
+Francine uttered a terrific shriek and rushed to the window. She threw
+it open, and leaning out, cried:
+
+"Help! Help!"
+
+La Roulante immediately seized her and pulled her back. Robeccal ran in.
+The girl struggled until, breathless and exhausted, she was thrown on
+the floor.
+
+"Give me that bottle!" said La Roulante.
+
+Robeccal understood, as did poor Francine, who resolutely closed her
+lips. The man brutally pried them open with his fingers, while the woman
+poured a teaspoonful down the girl's throat, who in another moment lay
+unconscious.
+
+Then La Roulante and Robeccal put the room in order, and going out,
+closed the door and returned to their wine below. They began to play
+cards, while waiting for the arrival of Frederic, from whom they had
+received the note.
+
+The weather was still stormy, and about six o'clock Frederic, wrapped in
+a cloak, arrived. As soon as he rapped on the door the giantess opened
+it, but barred all passage.
+
+"Have you the money?" she asked.
+
+"Yes, yes--give me the key!"
+
+Talizac threw down a pocketbook, and the giantess, with most exaggerated
+respect, pointed to the stairs.
+
+As soon as Talizac had left the lower floor, she turned to Robeccal.
+
+"And now we will make ourselves scarce!"
+
+Hardly had the door closed on their retreating forms than an angry cry
+rang through the house. Talizac rushed from Francine's room. The girl
+had disappeared.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXII.
+
+SURPRISES.
+
+
+By what miracle had Francine vanished? How could she with her frail
+strength escape from that room, situated as we have said on the second
+floor of this house, and from the garden surrounded on all sides by
+walls which no man could climb.
+
+When these wretches gave Francine the narcotic, they in their eagerness
+gave her too much, and the girl was utterly prostrated. She lay for an
+hour motionless while her jailers played cards and drank; and then her
+pulse began to flutter and nervous contractions shook her frail form,
+still she did not open her eyes. Her brain was over-excited. Suddenly
+she started up with eyes wide open, but eyes that saw not. She moved
+slowly and noiselessly. Did she reason? Not in the least. Instinct was
+her only guide.
+
+Have you ever when half asleep heard the same words repeated over and
+over again? In Francine's brain the words "too late! too late!" were
+repeated with the regularity of a pendulum. The old woman had struck a
+cruel blow. The girl had believed for a few moments that she was
+dishonored and this thought now haunted her vaguely. She placed her feet
+on the floor, then glided toward the door. She tried it and found it
+locked. She turned to the window; she slowly and gently opened the
+blinds, and then stepped upon the cornice outside; then she feels her
+way down to another projection where she places one foot and then the
+other until she finds herself on the ground. She then glides on until
+she reaches the wall.
+
+Ah! child, it is useless for you to try! Not so! The clinging vines form
+a rope-ladder for her light weight. She reaches the top of the wall, and
+easily descends on the other side. She is saved! But she does not know
+this, and her pale lips murmur,
+
+"Too late! Too late!"
+
+Where is she going? Ah! she knows not. She feels no fatigue, but goes on
+and on. She has crossed the outer Boulevard, and moves swiftly on
+through the now crowded streets, where no one seems to notice her
+pallor. The fog is so thick that she is but dimly seen. She reaches the
+bridge over the Saint Martin Canal; here she stops, and leaning over the
+parapet seems to contemplate the dark water running below. While she
+stands there, we will see what is taking place in the house she has
+left.
+
+Robeccal and La Roulante when they left the house, went to take the
+diligence in the Rue Saint Denis. Their plans had been long made; they
+meant to return to Robeccal's former home. They were groping their way
+through the fog, when suddenly Robeccal was lifted from the ground, and
+then flung some distance, while a voice shouted:
+
+"Scoundrel! I have you at last!"
+
+At the same moment, an iron grasp nailed the giantess to the spot where
+she stood. The two wretches gasped out the names:
+
+"Fanfar! Bobichel!"
+
+"Where is Francine?" said Fanfar, sternly.
+
+La Roulante laughed, and would not reply.
+
+"Speak!" said Fanfar. "I know the whole story. Where is that girl?"
+
+La Roulante knew that Fanfar was not to be trifled with, and after all
+why should she not now tell? She wanted to be free, that she and
+Robeccal might go far away.
+
+"Take your hand away, and I will tell you."
+
+"The truth, you understand, and make haste."
+
+"Well, the girl is not far away."
+
+"Alone?"
+
+"I do not know."
+
+"Show me the house."
+
+"It is easy enough to find."
+
+"Show me the way."
+
+"No, it was not in the bargain."
+
+"Show me the way."
+
+Bobichel looked upon this delay as worthy of being celebrated, by
+lifting Robeccal by the skin of his neck as he would have lifted a cat.
+
+These people now took their way to the deserted house.
+
+La Roulante uttered a cry as they reached the house, for the door was
+open. She ran into the house, and flew toward the stairs. Fanfar was
+behind her. She beheld the window open.
+
+"Look!" she cried, "he has taken her away!"
+
+"Of whom do you speak?"
+
+"Of the Vicomte de Talizac."
+
+"Talizac!" exclaimed Fanfar, "would that I could kill that man!"
+
+The house was searched, and found entirely deserted.
+
+A folded paper lay on the table in the lower room. She snatched it up.
+It contained only these words from Talizac:
+
+"You have infamously swindled me. You have taken the girl away, but I
+shall find her and be even with you."
+
+"The man lies!" yelled the woman.
+
+Fanfar was nearly stunned. He now had not the smallest clue to Francine.
+
+"Bobichel," he said, sadly. "Fate is against us. Come with me."
+
+"But what am I to do with him?" asked Bobichel, pointing to Robeccal,
+"Ah! I have it."
+
+He seized a rope and bound Robeccal firmly, and then bundled him into a
+closet, which he locked and put the key into his pocket. They drove La
+Roulante out of the house, and locked that door also, and then hurried
+back to the city.
+
+La Roulante when she was thus left hesitated a moment.
+
+"No," she said, "if I let him out I shall have to divide the money."
+
+And without more thought of Robeccal she too went away.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXIII.
+
+FACE TO FACE.
+
+
+The hôtel of the Marquis de Fongereues was ablaze with lights. Magdalena
+having determined that her son's triumph should be dazzling, invitations
+had been sent to every one of distinction. For a long time rumors had
+been in circulation adverse to the Fongereues family, and the gay crowd,
+always ready to desert a falling house, had shown great coolness to them
+all. But as soon as the favors shown by the king became known at the
+clubs, the family were quickly reinstated in public opinion.
+
+About nine o'clock carriages began to roll through the streets near the
+hôtel, the doors of which were thrown wide open to welcome the coming
+guests, who bore the oldest and noblest names of France.
+
+Fongereues, under an air of great dignity, concealed the joy and pride
+that swelled his heart. Magdalena was superb in her matronly beauty and
+her diamonds. Talizac was excessively pale, his worn face telling the
+story of his excesses and the excitement of the previous night.
+Francine's flight, which he believed to have been arranged by the man
+and woman whom he had employed as his tools, had driven him nearly mad
+with rage, from which he had not yet recovered.
+
+Suddenly a murmur of admiration ran around the room. Mademoiselle de
+Salves had just come in. Her mother had with difficulty risen from her
+sick bed to witness the triumph of her child.
+
+Irène was certainly very beautiful, and her toilette was characterized
+by exquisite simplicity. But her face was sad, and the brilliancy of her
+eyes was due to fever. Why had she come? Why had she not resisted the
+wishes of her mother? A great change had come over the girl. All her
+former energy and innumerable caprices had given way to a charming
+timidity. She was all the time conscious that she concealed a secret in
+her heart, and that since a certain memorable day she thought of but one
+person. Her vanity, her patrician pride, all revolted against this
+truth. The name she repeated over and over again, was that of Fanfar.
+Whenever she closed her eyes she saw him, haughty and courageous,
+risking his life to save that of his adopted father. She heard his rich
+voice and the words he uttered:
+
+"Make yourself beloved."
+
+She struggled with all her power against this infatuation, and had come
+to Paris. There she saw him again, no longer in his theatrical costume,
+but dressed like the young men she met in society. He had saved her from
+being killed by the heavy timber. He had held her a minute in his arms,
+and she had felt his heart beat against her own. A hundred times since
+then she had seen him ride past the house, and over and over again she
+knew that he had thrown flowers over the wall. With trembling joy she
+had carried these flowers to the privacy of her own rooms. She
+questioned them, but they were mute and kept the secret that Fanfar had
+undoubtedly confided to them.
+
+Who was this Fanfar? Irène's imagination ran riot. She heard him called
+a conspirator whom the police watched. He belonged to the party who
+aimed at the overthrowal of the royal power. How did one so lowly
+venture to menace one so high? Irène meditated and studied; her youthful
+mind awoke to great truths, and she realized that men like Fanfar were
+working for a great cause, and her soul was filled with noble wrath
+against those persons who were ruining and dishonoring France. How
+solitary she felt herself! How ignorant! How she longed to interrogate
+Fanfar on these great subjects. But she well knew that this was an
+impossible dream. He was far away from her, and love had made her timid.
+She ceased to struggle, but all the time asked herself why he did not
+come to save her from the fate hourly drawing nearer. She knew that her
+mother had promised her hand to the Vicomte de Talizac, and she knew
+that if she made any resistance it would break her mother's heart; but
+as the hour drew near when her sacrifice was to be consummated, Irène
+felt herself very weak.
+
+She entered the Fongereues salon in a state of suppressed excitement,
+very pale but very beautiful. The Marquis met her and drew her arm
+through his. This marriage was his salvation. He, too, thought of Fanfar
+with a certain pity, for he knew that this mountebank, as he scornfully
+called him, was the only man who had the right to call himself the
+Marquis de Fongereues.
+
+Irène's arrival was the signal for the opening of the ball. The
+orchestra began to play a waltz. Then came a sudden silence. A
+magnificent person entered, an officer of the Royal Guard, in his white
+and gold uniform. He was received by the Marquis de Fongereues.
+
+"Marquis," he said, "I come in the name of the king."
+
+Every one listened with bated breath. Fongereues was radiant.
+
+"Desirous of recompensing services rendered to the holy cause of
+monarchy, His Majesty has condescended to lend a favorable ear to
+certain applications, and, Monsieur, I am the bearer of the commission
+which confers on your son the rank of lieutenant in the King's Guards."
+
+Magdalena laid her hand on Frederic's shoulder.
+
+"Talizac," she said, "remember that your life and the lives of the
+Fongereues belong to the king."
+
+Talizac bowed low, and as he turned he gave Irène a look of triumph.
+She, poor girl, knew that her fate was sealed.
+
+"How happy you will be!" whispered her mother, tenderly.
+
+"Happy!" repeated Irène, drearily.
+
+But this was not all. The Royal Envoy had not completed his mission. La
+Vicomte de Talizac was made a Chevalier de Saint-Louis.
+
+"_Vive le Roi!_" cried the women, gayly.
+
+Monsieur de Montferrand turned to his son Arthur. "You see, sir," he
+said, in a severe tone, "how our King, a worthy son of Henri IV.,
+rewards those whom he finds worthy of his protection."
+
+Arthur de Montferrand had, in obedience to his father's wishes,
+accompanied him to this entertainment. The two young men exchanged a few
+words of feigned cordiality, but Arthur felt the most profound contempt
+for the Vicomte; while the image of Francine in the power of those
+scoundrels haunted him perpetually.
+
+Fernando did not make his appearance, and Arthur dared not talk to any
+one else of this miserable affair in which he had been engaged. He
+listened with a shudder to the congratulations and compliments showered
+upon the Vicomte, who finally had the audacity to go up to Arthur and
+demand his felicitations.
+
+Arthur started, and said low in his ear, "I will congratulate you, sir,
+when the mark upon your cheek, which I imprinted there, is no longer to
+be seen."
+
+Talizac uttered an exclamation, but Monsieur de Montferrand, suspecting
+what was going on, stepped forward.
+
+"Arthur," he said sternly, "apologize to the Vicomte for your rash
+words, or leave this house!"
+
+Arthur looked reproachfully at his father, and moved toward the door. At
+the same moment a great tumult was heard in the hall.
+
+"What can it be?" said De Fongereues, nervously.
+
+A door was flung open, servants were thrust aside, and a man bearing the
+inanimate form of a young girl, entered the ball-room.
+
+"Fanfar!" cried Arthur de Montferrand. It was, indeed, Fanfar.
+
+Standing in the centre of the ball-room, for no man ventured to oppose
+his progress, he addressed himself to the crowd.
+
+"Gentlemen," he said, "behold the body of the unhappy girl whom the
+Vicomte de Talizac has murdered!"
+
+There was a moment of silence, then the women screamed and fled, while
+the men turned pale and looked at each other.
+
+Talizac caught at the mantel for support. Fongereues had heard Arthur
+utter the name of Fanfar, and shuddered at the ill-omen.
+
+From Francine's drenched garments water was dripping upon the floor, and
+the pale face rested on Fanfar's shoulder.
+
+The Marquis hastened forward. "Who is this man? What is he doing here?"
+he cried.
+
+"Monsieur," said Fanfar, "a crime has been committed, the guilty must be
+punished, and this guilt is upon your son's head. You, gentlemen, seem
+to think that to your rank everything is permitted. Behold a young girl
+who, pure and industrious, toiled for her daily bread. This Vicomte de
+Talizac abducted her with the assistance of his paid emissaries. The
+poor creature, driven to despair, committed suicide. This is what your
+son has done, Marquis! Can you conceive of a more cowardly or infamous
+act?"
+
+And Fanfar, with head erect and lightning in his eyes, looked with
+contempt on the people about him.
+
+Arthur rushed to his side. "Dead!" he cried, "is she dead?"
+
+Fanfar gently laid Francine upon the floor. "Is there no one among all
+these ladies who will see if this girl lives? Beats there not one heart
+under all this silk and velvet?"
+
+A woman advanced and knelt by the side of Francine. It was Irène de
+Salves.
+
+"What does this senseless comedy mean?" asked the Marquis de Fongereues,
+angrily.
+
+"It is no comedy, it is a horrible tragedy," answered Fanfar, coldly.
+"Ask what explanations you please from your son; he must answer you. See
+how he trembles; ask him if what I have said is not true?"
+
+Talizac made a violent effort, and turning to his father, said, "This
+man lies!"
+
+"And I, sir, swear that he speaks the truth!" cried Arthur de
+Montferrand. "Ah! Monsieur de Talizac, you forget too quickly; but my
+memory recalls the fact that the marks now on your face were imprinted
+yesterday by my hand, when you attacked me with a knife, because I
+endeavored to prevent you from committing this crime!"
+
+"Liar!" shouted Talizac. Then turning to the crowd of spectators:
+"Gentlemen," he said, "I am the victim of a most monstrous calumny, and
+I call on you to treat this scoundrel with his trumped-up tale as he
+deserves!"
+
+Not one moved. Fanfar, with folded arms, stood looking at them.
+
+"She lives!" cried Irène. "She breathes! Mother, dear mother, permit
+this girl to be carried to our home. I will bring her back to life; you
+will give me permission?" she asked, turning to Fanfar.
+
+"She is my sister!" said Fanfar.
+
+Irène imprinted a kiss on Francine's brow. This was her reply to
+Fanfar's words.
+
+Talizac ran to the door of the salon and summoned the lacqueys. "Here,
+take this man away!"
+
+And, as they crowded in, Fanfar said: "Who dares lay a hand on me?"
+
+"I do!" answered a voice behind him, as a hand was laid on his shoulder.
+"In the name of the king, I arrest you!"
+
+The man who uttered these words wore a white scarf, fringed with gold.
+Soldiers filled every doorway.
+
+"Monsieur," said the Magistrate, to Fongereues, "a man has just been
+found endeavoring to conceal himself in the apartments of His Majesty.
+He had arms concealed about his person, and did not hesitate to confess
+that he came with the intention of killing the king."
+
+A cry of horror ran around the room. Fongereues was overjoyed. Cyprien
+had kept his word.
+
+"And this man," continued the Magistrate, "when summoned to name his
+accomplices, said that he obeyed the instructions of a secret society,
+of which this Fanfar is the chief."
+
+"An infamous falsehood!" exclaimed Fanfar.
+
+"An assassin! never!" murmured Irène, as she rose from her knees,
+hastily.
+
+Arthur held her back. He had divined her secret. "Do not betray
+yourself," he whispered, "rely on me."
+
+Fanfar looked around. Escape was impossible. He turned to Irène. "Save
+my sister!" he said to her.
+
+She bowed assent. Then Fanfar spoke to the Magistrate. "This unfounded
+accusation will recoil on the heads of my calumniators. I have been
+against the monarchy, but I have had no hand in any plot with murder as
+its object. I am at your service, gentlemen!"
+
+Arthur whispered in the ear of de Talizac:
+
+"To-morrow, if you are not a coward, I shall expect you!"
+
+"And I will kill you!" answered the Vicomte.
+
+In another hour the guests had left the Hôtel de Fongereues.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXIV.
+
+LEIGOUTTE.
+
+
+The kind reader who has followed thus far, has not forgotten a certain
+little village among the Vosges mountains, where in January, 1814, brave
+peasants fought and died in the defence of their country.
+
+When Simon left Leigoutte with Sergeant Michel, he had no idea that the
+fury of the invaders would lead them to commit the crime of killing
+women and children, and to burn their homes. The Cossacks and the
+emigrés avenged themselves on French flesh and blood, and French homes
+and firesides.
+
+While the Russians burned the cottage where Françoise and the children
+had taken shelter, Talizac, in order to ensure his possession of the
+title and Fongereues estates, set fire to the inn which was Simon's
+home. The emigrés took fiendish delight in destroying the school-room.
+Was it not there that the Republicans talked of duty and their country
+to the children? And when this band of royal thieves had passed,
+desolation settled down upon the valley.
+
+The king was proclaimed at the Tuileries, and lying on his bed
+embroidered with purple _fleur de lis_, never condescended to think of
+the villages in the East that had welcomed the invaders with powder and
+shot.
+
+By degrees Leigoutte, like its neighbors, began to hold up its head
+once more, and the few survivors agreed to take care of the women and
+children who had been left without protectors. The oldest among them
+remembered Simon's teachings, and repeated them to their children.
+
+One day they experienced a great surprise. It became known that a
+stranger had purchased the land on which had formerly stood the inn and
+the school of Simon Fougère. Every one wondered what the old man, who
+seemed to be an intendant, meant to do with this place, about which hung
+so many sad legends. Then came an architect, who employed the workmen in
+the village. They were paid well and promptly. The older inhabitants
+were consulted as to the plan of the old inn and the school.
+
+When wonder had passed, the villagers were amazed to find the inn had
+been built exactly like the old one that had been burned by the emigrés.
+Yes, there was the large, well-lighted room where Françoise, with her
+little girl in her arms, had cordially welcomed the travelers, while
+little Jacques flew about with bright cheeks and brighter eyes. The
+sign, too, was just the same as the old one. The only difference was
+that the tri-colored flag did not wave in the morning breeze. The new
+proprietor was named Pierre Labarre. Who was he? No one knew. He had a
+benevolent face, and he liked to talk of Simon Fougère, and made the
+villagers tell him the story of his death over and over again. Sometimes
+he was seen to listen with tears in his eyes.
+
+"He knew him, that's sure!" said the peasants.
+
+He selected a man and his wife to keep the inn. They had two children, a
+boy and a girl. The girl was named Francine. This completed the
+resemblance to the past. As a schoolmaster, Pierre appointed an old
+soldier, who was intelligent and honest.
+
+Once more Leigoutte began to take heart. Pierre Labarre spent several
+days each year in the village, and yet the good people knew nothing of
+him more than his name. Pierre Labarre was not the real benefactor, who
+slept in his tomb, but when dying he had said to his old servant:
+
+"I have been unfaithful to my duty toward Simon. I have been cowardly
+toward him. I have a large amount for my grandchildren, where, you alone
+will know. Seek these children, and make them rich. If Fate be against
+us, if you cannot find these children, consecrate this fortune to making
+the name of Simon beloved. Go to the poor village of Leigoutte, and let
+those who loved him, that is, all who knew him, be the heirs of that son
+whom the Marquis de Fongereues adored in his heart."
+
+For many years he sought in vain for the smallest clue, but one day,
+after much discouragement, a new hope sprang to life in his heart. It
+was when the so-called Marquis de Fongereues came to demand at his hands
+the secret entrusted to the old man by his master. The very violence of
+the two men on that day proved that Simon's son was living. Had he been
+dead, the heirs of the Fongereues would have applied to the courts.
+
+Then Pierre Labarre resumed his search, and an old man was continually
+seen on all the highways and by-ways of France, entering the humblest
+cottages and asking, in tremulous tones:
+
+"Do you remember? It was in 1814."
+
+But this was ten years ago. No one had seen two children flying for
+their lives. How many hopes were based upon a word, and how many
+disappointments followed!
+
+Finally, he determined to act on the last words of his dying master, and
+he went to Leigoutte. It was an idea of his own to restore to Leigoutte
+its old look, the look it had one day long before when Simon Fougère
+gave him a seat at his fireside, and Jacques looked at the stranger with
+his big, earnest eyes, while Cinette ran around the room.
+
+The evening of which we write, this old servant of an emigré sat under
+the trees opposite the school-room. He had gathered the village children
+about him. Night was coming on, but the spring air was soft and sweet.
+He spoke in a low voice, for the authorities of the village might have
+considered his words as somewhat of an incendiary nature. He said,
+softly:
+
+"In other days, in Simon Fougère's school, all the children said, 'Vive
+la France! Vive la Republique!'"
+
+And the little children repeated these words: "Vive la France! Vive la
+Republique!"
+
+At this moment a strange scene took place on the Square. Two shadows,
+dimly seen in the twilight, were kneeling before the inn. No one had
+seen them approach. Pierre Labarre was the first to notice them, and he
+felt a quick contraction of the heart that heralded some unlooked-for
+event. He rose quickly, and signed to the children to keep perfectly
+still. He nearly reached the two unknown without their hearing him. He
+saw that one was endeavoring to raise the other, who seemed to be
+infirm. She extended her hand to the inn, and seemed to be saying
+something, and then the two slowly mounted the steps of the inn.
+
+Pierre, who was very near them, heard a sob. Who could they be? Pierre
+asked himself. The two strangers were now in the large room, where
+nothing seemed changed since the day that the wounded soldier leaned
+against the wall, exhausted by suffering and fatigue. There was the huge
+chimney, and there the shining tables.
+
+The infirm woman now walks unaided. She goes straight to the fireplace,
+and seats herself in a chair. She looks at the door eagerly and
+expectantly.
+
+Labarre again asked himself who this woman was, and what frightful
+accident had so injured her. Suddenly, while Labarre was watching her,
+the woman smiled.
+
+"Ah! you have come, Simon!" she said with a smile, as if speaking to
+some one who had just come in. "The children are waiting for you, and
+the soup is ready. Jacques has been good, but you must talk to
+Cinette--she is a perfect little fiend, sometimes!"
+
+Labarre, with his heart in his mouth, clutched at the wall to prevent
+himself from falling.
+
+"Come! Cinette--come; you must not be naughty!"
+
+It was plain to Labarre who this person was--he had heard her voice
+before. But this girl--who was she?
+
+The old man now entered the room. The girl saw him, and said,
+apologetically:
+
+"Pray, do not scold us--we mean no harm."
+
+"Whoever asks hospitality at this door receives it," answered Labarre.
+"But tell who you both are."
+
+Caillette, for it was she, laid her finger on her lips and whispered
+low:
+
+"She is mad!"
+
+Tears came to the old man's eyes.
+
+"I beg of you," he asked again, "to tell me who this woman is."
+
+"A poor, sick creature, who was once very happy. She has lost her
+husband and her children, and met with some terrible accident beside."
+
+"But her name?"
+
+"I have not the smallest idea. Cinette always calls her mamma."
+
+"Cinette! Who bears that name?"
+
+"A good little girl in Paris, who earns her bread by singing in the
+streets. It now seems that she is the sister of Fanfar. It is a very
+strange sorrow, one fall of sorrow!"
+
+"And Fanfar--whom do you call Fanfar?" asked the old man, with a
+troubled face.
+
+Caillette started. She remembered that her love had been disdained, but
+she was kind-hearted, of the stuff of which martyrs are made.
+
+"Fanfar was a foundling. He is now a young man both good and handsome."
+
+"Where have I heard that name?" Labarre said to himself.
+
+Suddenly the woman seated in the chair looked up.
+
+"Excuse the simplicity of the arrangements--the inn does as well as
+possible."
+
+"Françoise Fougère!" he cried.
+
+Françoise started up, as if sustained by supernatural strength.
+
+"Who calls me?" she cried. "Who is it that speaks my name?"
+
+"Françoise, do you remember Simon, Jacques, Cinette?"
+
+"My children? Yes, yes--I remember them. Where is it that I have just
+seen them? Oh! yes--I remember. I was all alone. Cinette's little bed
+was empty, and then the door opened and Jacques came!"
+
+"Is he alive?" cried Labarre.
+
+"Yes," answered Caillette. "They knew each other at once."
+
+"But where is Francine?"
+
+"She has been abducted by the Vicomte de Talizac."
+
+"Talizac!"
+
+Labarre caught at a chair for support. Françoise heard these words.
+
+"Talizac! Oh! the base, cruel man. Quick! we cannot stay here. I must
+save Francine and Jacques. Oh! my box--where is my box?"
+
+My readers must now learn how Françoise and Caillette found themselves
+at Leigoutte. They will remember that just as Fanfar recognized in the
+poor, sick woman the mother whose loss he had so deeply deplored, and
+in Francine the worshipped little sister whose agonized cries he had
+heard in the subterranean passages among the Vosges, all clue was lost,
+for Bobichel vanished, and with him Caillette.
+
+And Gudel's daughter, who loved Fanfar with a love that was without
+hope, said to him:
+
+"She is your mother. Will you allow me to take care of her?"
+
+Fanfar looked at Caillette with loving, grateful eyes, and then hastened
+away with Bobichel and Gudel.
+
+Then Caillette was left alone with the sick woman, who began to cry and
+sob. Her mind had been so long torpid that now this shock seemed to have
+swept away the last vestige of her intelligence. But Caillette was good
+and patient, and finally the sick woman slept. Caillette watched her and
+waited through the twilight, and at last, holding the hand of her charge
+in hers, she too fell asleep.
+
+When the girl opened her eyes it was daybreak, and the bed was empty.
+Yes, Fanfar's mother, whom she had promised to guard, had vanished. She
+ran into the next room. No one was there, and the door was open.
+
+Caillette ran to the concierge. "Where is she?" she cried.
+
+"Do you mean the old woman? Oh! she went away before light."
+
+"Impossible! She cannot walk."
+
+"I was astonished myself, but my wife said to me, who is that coming
+down stairs? I looked, and I saw a ghost--not a pretty one either,
+begging your pardon. It was the paralytic, the old woman who had never
+walked a step all the while that the Marquise took care of her.
+
+"'Where are you going?' I said to her.
+
+"'To save Jacques.'"
+
+"Jacques is her son, go on, quick," interrupted Caillette.
+
+"'But you can't save any one,' I then said. This was not kind, Miss, but
+I was so astonished. She did not seem to mind it though, for she began
+to talk about a box, and told me to open the door. I had no right to
+disobey, you know."
+
+"And she went away?" cried Caillette.
+
+"Yes, and quick enough, too."
+
+Caillette did not wait to hear more. She flew down the stairs also.
+
+It was seven o'clock in the morning. Caillette did not dare to find
+Jacques, and tell him she had been faithless to her trust. No, she must
+find Françoise herself. She asked questions of all she met, and at last
+she had a ray of light. An old rag picker told her that he had seen a
+woman answering to the description given by Caillette. She at once
+started in the direction he pointed out; it was the road to Germany she
+took. She sold a small gold locket, which held a bit of ribbon from a
+sash Fanfar had once given her. She kept the ribbon, and received
+several crowns for the locket. She walked all day, finally certain that
+Françoise was not far in advance. It was not until the morning of the
+second day that the girl was rewarded by seeing Françoise at the door
+of an inn. Caillette rushed forward.
+
+"Mother!" she cried.
+
+"Ah! you know her?" said the innkeeper. "She is very strange."
+
+"What did she say to you?"
+
+"She asked for bread, and ate it without a word. Then, just as she saw
+you, she asked me where some village was. I never heard the name
+before."
+
+The old woman now came to meet Caillette.
+
+"Leigoutte!" she said. "Leigoutte!"
+
+"Leigoutte!" repeated Caillette, "that is Fanfar's village."
+
+The old woman shook her head, she did not know the name.
+
+"I mean Leigoutte is where Jacques came from."
+
+"Yes--yes--Jacques. I must save Jacques and the box!"
+
+What was going on in the impaired mind of Françoise? Fanfar's sudden
+appearance had carried her memory back to the last interview she had
+with Simon, when, our readers will remember, he had given his wife the
+papers that proved his birth and that of Jacques. And now Françoise had
+but one idea, to return to Leigoutte. In vain did Caillette urge her to
+return to Paris, and the girl had promised Fanfar not to leave his
+mother. She therefore went on toward Germany with her. Fortunately, a
+wagoner took pity on these two women, and took them up. In this way they
+reached Leigoutte. Françoise was silent, except a few low words that she
+muttered under her breath at long intervals. Caillette thought with
+despair of Fanfar, and his agony at his mother's disappearance.
+
+Alas! poor girl, she did not know that the night when she and Françoise
+entered the inn at Leigoutte, Fanfar, alone in his prison, thought of
+his mother whom he had scarcely seen, and of the sister whom he had held
+in his arms. Ah! it was a bitter trial for the strong, faithful heart.
+
+Caillette and Pierre Labarre watched Françoise, when finally she arose
+from her chair, and went toward the door. On the threshold she seemed to
+hesitate. She thrust back her gray hair, and pressed her hand to her
+brow. Then, as if she suddenly remembered something, she turned and went
+toward the door in the back of the house, Caillette and Pierre following
+her every step she took. She went out into the garden, and up a winding
+path to the hill, which she began to climb with panting breath.
+
+"Ah! she is going to the little farm of Lasvène which was burned," said
+Pierre to himself.
+
+Then, all the time watching Françoise, he began to question Caillette.
+
+What motive had Françoise in these persistent wanderings? Was it merely
+the whim of a mad woman or had she some fixed design?
+
+Françoise walked on. Sometimes she stopped short, and called Jacques,
+then Cinette. Labarre asked himself if it were not his duty to stop this
+poor woman, but a secret instinct bade him watch her to the end.
+
+An hour elapsed, but Françoise seemed to feel no fatigue. At the
+cross-roads she did not hesitate. Finally they reached the Gorge
+d'Outremont. In the fast gathering darkness, the place was horrible and
+gloomy. As in a former description we have said, the mountain seemed at
+this gorge to have been cleft in twain by a gigantic hatchet.
+
+At this moment, the clouds parted, and a pale young moon looked down on
+the landscape.
+
+Françoise stopped short, Pierre well knew why. The little cottage of old
+Lasvène had vanished, and the poor woman was bewildered. Labarre went to
+her, and took her hand. He knew where the foundations of the cottage
+were, and convinced that this was why she had come, he led her to the
+ruins. She laughed in a childish way.
+
+"Burned? Ah! yes;" she repeated the cry of the Cossacks. "Death to the
+French!" And then she began to run.
+
+It was an outbreak of madness. Caillette and Pierre uttered cries of
+fright.
+
+The mystery of such a strange occurrence may never be solved, but
+Françoise threw herself on the ground in a corner where the little
+garden had stood, and began to dig furiously in the earth. Presently,
+she screamed:
+
+"The box! The box! Jacques is not my son; Cinette is the Marquise de
+Fongereues. Jacques--Fanfar is Vicomte de Talizac!" And she fell
+unconscious into the arms of Labarre.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXV.
+
+THE NEST.
+
+
+Two white beds stood near each other. Muslin curtains tied with blue
+ribbons covered the windows with billowy folds. Among the pillows of one
+of the beds lay a beautiful face, and a young girl at her side held her
+frail hands.
+
+This chamber was that of Irène de Salves, and very unlike it was to the
+chamber of the spoiled child in the Château des Vosges. There she had
+created a mixture of all colors--violent reds and yellows. Now
+everything was delicate and calm. The sweet face among the pillows was
+Francine's. The two young girls were like sisters. Irène felt that to
+love, protect, and care for Francine, was to love Fanfar. The shock
+Francine had experienced was terrible; she hardly knew what had taken
+place--whether she deliberately threw herself into the water, or whether
+faint and dizzy, she fell in; when Fanfar leaped to her rescue she clung
+to him convulsively. Then came the fever and delirium, and when she was
+at last conscious she beheld a sweet face bending over her, and Irène
+said, "Courage, sister, courage!"
+
+Francine, surprised and touched, extended her thin hands, but suddenly
+imagining that she was again in the house where she had suffered so
+much, she shrieked "Let me die! Let me die!"
+
+A relapse took place, and for several days her life hung on a thread.
+Irène was indefatigable in her care, and finally she began to recover
+very slowly.
+
+She questioned Irène as soon as she was able. What had become of the
+poor woman, the care of whom she had assumed? Hardly had she escaped
+from the jaws of death, than she began to think of others. Irène could
+tell her little. Ever since the violent scene of the ball, Arthur de
+Montferrand, without confessing his real motives, for he loved Francine,
+had placed himself at the disposal of Irène. He had divined her secret,
+and prevented her from betraying it to the curious crowd.
+
+Fanfar was in prison. His trial was soon coming on. It was believed that
+his condemnation was certain. The disturbance to the health of the king,
+consequent on the attempted assassination at the Tuileries, had, it was
+said, greatly embittered the monarchists. A report was in circulation
+that an infamous comedy had been enacted by this Fanfar and his sister
+in order to break off the marriage between Talizac and Mademoiselle de
+Salves, a money-making scheme, worthy of a street singer and a
+mountebank.
+
+The sick woman had disappeared. This intelligence drove Francine to
+despair. Who was this Caillette, who had pretended to take her place,
+and then disappeared, leaving no trace behind her?
+
+"But," said Francine, "who was it who saved me?"
+
+"Do you not know?" answered Irène, coloring deeply.
+
+"No, I heard you mention a name that I do not know."
+
+"Yes, that of Monsieur Fanfar."
+
+"Who is he?"
+
+Irène looked at her and wondered if in her fever the girl's reason had
+deserted her.
+
+"I do not understand. Do you not know your brother?"
+
+"My brother!"
+
+Irène passed her hand over her troubled brow.
+
+"My brother. Ah! what is it you say? I never had but one brother, dear
+little Jacques, who was always so good and kind to me!"
+
+"Jacques! but that is the name of--Monsieur Fanfar!"
+
+"I tell you," answered Francine, "that I never met any one of that name.
+Stop a moment, I remember a company of mountebanks on the Square; they
+were under the management of a man called Iron Jaws, and with him was
+this Fanfar, if I don't mistake."
+
+"Precisely, and this Fanfar is your brother, I heard him say so,
+himself, when I went to help you. He said to me, 'she is my sister--'"
+
+"Where is he? I must see him. He saved my life. Suppose that he is
+Jacques! But no, poor Jacques is dead!"
+
+Irène could not help the poor girl; although she fully believed in the
+truth of what Fanfar had said, she could offer no proof.
+
+Suddenly Francine exclaimed, "If he is my Jacques, he ought to be about
+twenty. He ought to be very handsome."
+
+Irène colored, as she said, "He is handsome!"
+
+"With black eyes, and brown curling hair?"
+
+Irène was unwilling to admit that she had studied Fanfar in all these
+details, but she stammered out, "Yes, that describes him."
+
+"For pity's sake, tell me all you know!"
+
+Irène asked herself why she should hesitate. After all there was nothing
+to be ashamed of in her sentiments towards Fanfar.
+
+"I will tell you all," she said, in a low voice.
+
+"Why are you so disturbed?" asked Francine. "When you mention the name
+of this Fanfar, you have tears in your eyes."
+
+Irène buried her face on her friend's shoulder: "I love him!" she
+whispered, "and I love you as if you were my sister!"
+
+The two young girls embraced each other tenderly.
+
+"But where is he?" said Francine, disengaging herself, "I wish to see
+him."
+
+Irène started. Alas! amid all these emotions she had forgotten the sad
+truth that the brother, whom Francine ardently desired to embrace, was
+in a narrow cell, crushed under the accusation of an attempt on the life
+of the king.
+
+"Why do you not tell me where I can find him?" asked Francine, her eyes
+bright with fever.
+
+At this moment the door opened, and a tall and stately individual, known
+as Madame Ursula, made a sign to Irène, who instantly obeyed the
+summons, glad to avoid the necessity of replying to Francine's
+questions.
+
+"What is it?" she said.
+
+Madame Ursula was unchanged. She was still in a constant state of horror
+at Irène's conduct and defiance of conventionalities.
+
+"A very strange looking man wishes to speak to the young lady."
+
+"She can not receive him," replied Irène, promptly.
+
+"So I supposed, but I delivered the message because I thought she knew
+this person, and I myself have seen him before." Madame Ursula looked
+down in some confusion. "He was pretending to be a frog, on a certain
+occasion--"
+
+"I do not understand you."
+
+"He is one of those clowns who amused the peasants at Saint Amé."
+
+"His name! his name!" cried Irène, impatiently.
+
+"I don't know his name. He wore a gray hat--"
+
+"Bobichel! It must be Bobichel!"
+
+Irène had forgotten none of these names.
+
+"Let him come in!" she cried. "Let him come in!"
+
+In another moment Bobichel appeared. Was this the poor clown? No; there
+were no smiles on his lips, no quips and cranks on his tongue. His
+thinness had become emaciation.
+
+Irène went forward.
+
+"You come from him?" she said, hastily.
+
+"From Fanfar? Oh! no--not directly, at least. They won't let me see him,
+you know."
+
+"Who sends you here, then?"
+
+"Gudel--Iron Jaws, you know."
+
+"Why did he not come himself?"
+
+"Ah! that I can't say. Gudel bade me give this note to you."
+
+Irène broke the seal. The envelope contained two letters. One was
+directed to "Miss _Irainne_," the other to "Mademoiselle de Salves." Why
+did she open the latter? Did she know from the defective orthography
+that the first could not come from Fanfar? The letter she opened was
+from Fanfar. This was it:
+
+
+  "You, who are so good and kind, be doubly so to the sister I found
+  when too late. The hour draws near when the so-called justice of man
+  will strike an innocent person. You do not doubt me, I know. I am not
+  one who would dishonor a sacred cause. Say to my sister that little
+  Jacques has endeavored to be worthy of his father--Simon Fougère.
+
+  "I beg my adopted father, Gudel, to explain to you in detail the
+  singular events of my life. I place entire confidence in you. I leave
+  to your care poor Françoise and little Cinette. Love them, and they
+  will return your affection. You have not forgotten the words addressed
+  to you so long ago: 'Make yourself beloved.'
+
+  "I do not know whether I should now bid you an eternal farewell. I
+  recognize the fact that I am the object of venomous hatred to some
+  one, but to whom? Let no one seek to solve this mystery. I forgive
+  this enemy, whomsoever he may be.
+
+  "In a few days--to-morrow, perhaps--my fate will be decided. Do not
+  despair."
+
+
+Tears filled Irène's eyes as she finished this letter.
+
+Bobichel watched her all the time, restraining his sobs with difficulty.
+
+"You love him!" he said softly, "and you are right, for he is the best
+man I ever knew!"
+
+Irène extended her hand, and the clown knelt to kiss it.
+
+"But we must save him!" cried Irène. "He shall not be condemned--"
+
+"Condemned?" said a voice. "Of whom do you speak?"
+
+Francine, obeying an impulse, had thrown on a peignoir of white
+cashmere, and appeared, white and trembling, at the door. Irène ran to
+her side.
+
+"Courage! sister," she cried, "courage!"
+
+Then Irène herself gave way, and burst into passionate weeping. Francine
+took her brother's letter and read it slowly, but when she came to the
+words "little Jacques" and "Cinette," her eyes closed, and she would
+have fallen had not Bobichel caught her.
+
+"You must not cry like that!" he said. "You must not weep. We will save
+Fanfar! Please, Mademoiselle Irène, read the letter Iron Jaws sends you.
+He has an idea, and he knows what he is about. He will save Fanfar!"
+
+Bobichel's confidence was so great, his honest affection was so
+apparent, that the two girls exchanged a hopeful glance.
+
+"Read!" said Francine.
+
+Iron Jaws' letter was not faultless in respect to orthography. Its
+errors we will not repeat:
+
+
+  "Fanfar must be saved! I know your attachment for him. You have great
+  influence with people in power. Try to see him, and give him something
+  that Bobichel will hand you. I rely on your doing this."
+
+
+"What am I to say to Iron Jaws?" asked Bobichel.
+
+"Tell him that I will do all he asks. But you have another note for me?"
+
+"No, not a note." And Bobichel, with infinite care, took from the flap
+of his coat a pin, an ordinary pin though of large size, not large
+enough, however, to excite the smallest suspicion.
+
+"Do you see that?" cried the clown, with much of his former gayety. "Do
+you see that, ladies and gentlemen? This pin does not look like much,
+does it, now? But you can screw off the head, and then you will find a
+tiny note--"
+
+"It is most ingenious," said Irène, with a smile "and it shall be
+delivered as you desire."
+
+"Ah! you are a brave creature, and if some day you want some one to
+amuse your children--that is, when you have any, you know--send for me,
+and I will be frogs for them all day long!"
+
+And with this somewhat startling promise, Bobichel departed.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXVI.
+
+SUPREME EFFORT.
+
+
+Monsieur de Fongereues was alone in his cabinet. Magdalena had left him
+only a few moments before. A violent scene had taken place between the
+husband and wife.
+
+The ruin that threatened the Fongereues mansion had been temporarily
+staved off by the marriage that had been arranged between Irène and the
+Vicomte, but as soon as the world knew that the marriage was broken off,
+the tongues of gossips began to wag.
+
+The Fongereues felt that their doom was sealed when they knew that
+Irène's millions were forever lost to them. Then this unhappy pair began
+to quarrel. To Magdalena's violent reproaches Fongereues answered by
+violent recriminations. Was it not her senseless indulgence that had
+caused the Vicomte to become the depraved and worthless person upon whom
+every one now turned a cold shoulder? If they were ruined, was it not
+because of the mad extravagance of mother and son?
+
+And Magdalena replied:
+
+"If I have been weak, was it not still more your duty to be strong? Who
+is the proper guide for a young man if not his father? You have been
+faithless to your duties, and, moreover, has he a vice which is not
+yours?"
+
+Fongereues foamed with rage, and before he could speak his wife had the
+audacity to say:
+
+"You are choked by the blood of your brother!"
+
+She thus reproached him for a crime that he had committed at her
+instigation. A moment more and this great lord would have demeaned
+himself to brutalities worthy of a lacquey, but with a look of contempt
+Magdalena swept past him and left the room. And now, crushed into a
+large arm-chair, the Marquis sat with his eyes fixed on the floor.
+
+"Count Fernando de Vellebri wishes to see you," a servant knocked at the
+door to say.
+
+"One moment!" answered the Marquis.
+
+He hurried to his dressing room, bathed his face in cold water and
+hastily brushed his fast whitening hair. He took his seat at his desk,
+which was covered with papers.
+
+"Show Monsieur de Vellebri up," he said.
+
+He shuddered as he spoke, for he had learned through Cyprien that this
+Fernando belonged to the society of the Jesuits. The young man entered.
+
+He was no longer the obsequious person with the stereotyped smile, who
+had done the will of the Vicomte de Talizac. Dressed in black, a long
+single-breasted coat, Fernando was the type of the Jesuits who pervaded
+French society. His dark hair rendered his pallor more remarkable. His
+half closed eyes were brilliant in spite of their heavy lids.
+
+Fongereues divined a contest. What new struggle would he be compelled
+to undergo? He pointed to a chair, but the Italian bowed and remained
+standing.
+
+"You wished to see me," said the Marquis, "and I am at your service. But
+what is this costume? I was not aware that you belonged to any religious
+society, officially, at least."
+
+"As to my claims to this dress," answered De Vellebri, coldly, "I am
+quite ready to explain them, if you will condescend to listen to me."
+
+His voice was monotonous, as he continued:
+
+"You are not ignorant, sir, of how greatly the conduct of the Vicomte de
+Talizac has compromised himself and his family."
+
+"I beg your pardon," interrupted the Marquis, "but may I ask if you were
+not the companion of my son in most of his excesses?"
+
+Fernando smiled satirically.
+
+"Perhaps you are not quite aware of the part I played in these excesses.
+Monsieur de Talizac is not a child, to be influenced for good or evil by
+his friends. Perhaps, instead of accusing me, you should thank me for
+having saved the honor of your house more than once."
+
+"Indeed, sir! I confess I do not understand."
+
+"It seems to me," said Fernando, still very calm, "that we are wandering
+from the real subject of this conversation. A powerful Society, sir,
+attached above all else to the practice of all virtues and to the
+triumph of God's cause, has for a long time been watching you. Your
+influence and your talents all give a guarantee that you may become a
+most useful auxiliary to the society to which I have the honor to
+belong."
+
+"The Society of Jesus?" interrupted the Marquis.
+
+Fernando did not reply to this direct question other than with a slight
+bow.
+
+"This society," he continued, "is disposed to come to your aid. It is
+they who have prevented His Majesty from revoking the favors shown to
+your son."
+
+Fongereues uttered an exclamation of surprise.
+
+"And they, too, will enable you to re-conquer the rank to which you
+belong."
+
+"On condition that I will be their slave!" said the Marquis, with a
+constrained smile.
+
+It was certain that in this terrible crisis the Marquis was ready to
+snatch at anything that would save him. But in spite of himself, he felt
+an invincible repugnance to giving himself up entirely to the control of
+these people and to have no will of his own. He hesitated. Fernando
+seemed to read his every thought.
+
+"I think, sir," he said, "that you exaggerate the consequences of the
+step I suggest."
+
+"And if I refuse?"
+
+"You will not refuse," said the Italian, quietly.
+
+Fongereues bit his lips.
+
+"What does the Society of Jesus require of me?"
+
+"Two things--a great service and a guarantee."
+
+"What do they offer me?"
+
+"The position of Prime Minister."
+
+The Marquis started.
+
+"I do not understand you," he said.
+
+"The position of Prime Minister."
+
+Beads of sweat broke out on the brow of the Marquis. He knew that the
+society was strong enough to keep its promises. He knew that as Prime
+Minister all his dreams of power and wealth would be realized.
+
+"You spoke also of a service and a guarantee," he said, quietly.
+
+"The service is the greatest that can be rendered by any man to the
+Catholic world and to his Holiness the Pope."
+
+Fernando lowered his voice.
+
+"You are aware, sir, that by a Royal Edict of 1764 the Jesuits were
+expelled from France. Two years since, in 1822, His Majesty, unable to
+elevate in its integrity the standard of Catholicism, contented himself
+with authorizing the sojourn in France of the Fathers of the Faith. The
+time has now come to arrest these persecutions entailed on the Society
+of Jesus. We are resolved that they shall be solemnly re-established
+under their own name, with all their rights and privileges, and this not
+by virtue of a royal edict, but by a legal measure emanating from the
+Chamber of Peers. This is a bold act and one full of danger. We are
+fully aware of it, and do not propose to deny it. To carry out this plan
+successfully would require great dexterity and astuteness, as well as
+profound faith in the justice of the cause you defend. The reward would
+be the dazzling recompense I have named. Monsieur de Fongereues, are
+you--can you be this man?"
+
+Fongereues started to his feet.
+
+"Yes--I can!" he cried.
+
+"We will assist you," said the Jesuit. "We are certain of the support of
+a respectable minority. It is for you to scatter rewards, and warm
+lukewarm consciences, and I repeat, sir--a work like this is
+magnificent."
+
+"I belong to you, heart and soul," said Fongereues, "and to-morrow--"
+
+"Wait," said Vellebri, laying his hand on the arm of the Marquis, thus
+forcing him back to his seat. "I spoke of a guarantee."
+
+"Ah! yes," answered Fongereues, "my word of honor, I presume, is
+enough?"
+
+Fernando did not seem to think a reply incumbent upon him. He continued:
+
+"The man in whom the Society places enough confidence to entrust him
+with arms which will ensure his victory, should be bound to them by
+strong ties."
+
+Fongereues listened with interest and curiosity.
+
+"And the strongest ties are those of gold," said the Jesuit, slowly and
+distinctly. "You questioned me as to my claim to my dress. I am the
+Secretary of the General of the Society, and I am required to ask, if
+you are willing to aid in the establishment of houses like those of
+Montrouge and Saint-Acheul in Parma and Tuscany?"
+
+"Most certainly," answered Fongereues, uneasily, for this allusion to
+money was most unwelcome. "I am ready to second all efforts of this
+Society, but still it would be necessary for me to know just what amount
+would be required of me. My resources are just now greatly restricted,
+and--"
+
+"Do not be concerned," said Vellebri, coldly, "the amount need not
+disturb you." Fongereues sighed with relief. "You will have to give but
+one million."
+
+"A million!" repeated the Marquis, in despair.
+
+"In fixing this sum our Superiors have merely carried out their plan of
+attaching you to their cause."
+
+"But a million!" repeated the Marquis, "it is impossible. Were I to sell
+all that I now have in the world, I should not realize the half of this
+sum!"
+
+"Is this, then, a refusal?"
+
+"By no means. But a million!--I haven't it," and he repeated these words
+over and over again.
+
+"But you have resources which should make such a sacrifice easy."
+
+"No, you are mistaken. I am ruined, entirely ruined!"
+
+His agitation was so great that he forgot to dissimulate.
+
+"But the fortune of your father was very large, and cannot be
+exhausted."
+
+"But I was robbed of that!"
+
+Fernando rose from his chair.
+
+"Permit me," he said, "to decline to enter into any affairs foreign to
+the matters we have under consideration. I came to offer you peace or
+war. Peace means fortune and power, and war--"
+
+"War!" repeated Fongereues, "I do not understand you."
+
+"When the Society proposes a compact, when, as I have just done to you,
+she unveils her secret designs, she holds in reserve a weapon which
+places at her mercy the man of whom she wished to make an ally, and whom
+she does not choose to have for an adversary."
+
+"I! I an adversary of the Society of Jesus! You cannot mean what you
+say."
+
+"Everything is possible, Marquis. This is our ultimatum--either you will
+accept the proposals I have made, and placing in my hands within five
+days the million I ask, you will at once begin the campaign whose
+success is certain, or within five days a certain person will place in
+the hands of the Procureur de Roi papers which will be your ruin."
+
+"What do you mean?"
+
+Fongereues was livid as he asked this question.
+
+"They are notes, forged by the Vicomte, your son!"
+
+"Talizac a forger! Impossible!"
+
+"I assure you that it is only too true. Once more, let me ask for your
+decision."
+
+"I beg you to remember that my devotion to the Society is unalterable.
+But a million--you know!"
+
+"You understand," repeated Vellebri, "it is a million that is demanded?"
+
+"Yes, I know. Grant me a little time."
+
+"We give you five days, as I said, at the end of which time the
+proposition I have named must be presented to the Chamber of Peers."
+
+"I will present it."
+
+"But the Society will not permit you to interfere until you have given
+the required guarantee. And now, good-morning, sir."
+
+In vain did Fongereues petition the Italian to remain, but Fernando
+bowed coldly and departed.
+
+Fongereues sank back in his chair, utterly crushed. For a few moments he
+had indulged in the hope of a proud future, and now, knowing that he
+could not raise a million, he felt that he was in deeper perplexity than
+ever.
+
+Cyprien now appeared.
+
+"You made a mistake, sir, in hesitating for a moment. Write to the
+Society that before five days have elapsed you will have fulfilled the
+conditions imposed."
+
+"That would be folly!"
+
+"Is not Fanfar in prison?"
+
+"What of that? He will not be condemned."
+
+"By the judges, possibly not--but by us."
+
+Fongereues held himself more erect.
+
+"Tell me what you mean, Cyprien?" he asked.
+
+The lacquey laughed.
+
+"I mean simply, that I will kill this Fanfar!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXVII.
+
+THE TRIAL.
+
+
+Political trials are all much alike, and this of Fanfar was no
+exception. On the day that it was to take place the pretended assassin
+and his pretended accomplice (that is to say Fanfar), were led to the
+court-room, where the magistrates, in their red robes and ermine, were
+seated. The newspapers, while attacking Fanfar furiously, had not
+omitted to mention that the accused was excessively handsome. This
+naturally brought a large number of women to the trial, and when the
+prisoner appeared, there was a low hum of admiration and surprise.
+Fanfar's companion, the man of whom Fanfar had made, it was said, a
+tool, excited neither admiration nor sympathy. Fanfar looked at him once
+and turned away in disgust.
+
+It is now the proper time to say that this man, whom Cyprien had chosen
+to play the part of regicide, was none other than Fanfar's former enemy,
+Robeccal himself, who had been found in the closet and liberated by
+Cyprien.
+
+This man had fallen so low that it mattered little to him what he did.
+The lacquey Cyprien profited by this mood, and in a short time obtained
+the result he desired.
+
+To the declaration of the accused, who had been found secreted in the
+Tuileries, Fanfar replied with contempt. He told who this man was, and
+the crimes of which he had been guilty. All this, however, by no means
+proved that he himself was innocent of participation in the crime.
+Fanfar had not mentioned the affair of the deserted house, for he did
+not wish his sister's name to appear. This was a great relief to
+Robeccal, who, in spite of the manner in which he had been treated by La
+Roulante, did not wish to get her into trouble.
+
+The trial took its course. Robeccal wept and expressed great penitence,
+said that he loved the king, etc. All this produced an excellent effect
+on the jury, who considered the fellow a little simple.
+
+Then came Fanfar's turn. He stood with arms folded on his breast, and
+once turned and looked toward the end of the court-room. He probably saw
+what he wished, for he smiled, and a light came into his eyes. Then he
+looked again at the President, and waited. In reality there was no other
+charge against him than the persistent declaration of Robeccal, but this
+was by the judges considered quite proof enough of his culpability.
+
+"You belong to a secret association, do you not?" asked the judge.
+
+"I am a Frenchman," answered Fanfar, "and like others of this heroic
+nation claim liberty of thought and action. Do you call France a secret
+society?"
+
+The President reproved Fanfar for this speech, and called him in his
+anger an assassin. The young man replied, in a voice of great feeling:
+
+"Only those," he said, "should be called assassins who have cut the
+throat of France and plucked a blood-stained crown from the men!"
+
+There was a great tumult. "Bravo! Fanfar," said a voice among the
+audience.
+
+Naturally a dozen innocent men were accused of uttering this incendiary
+exclamation, while Gudel, in a quiet livery, was not interfered with.
+Irène de Salves never moved her eyes from Fanfar. Finally, quiet was
+restored.
+
+"Mr. President," said Fanfar, "my father fell in the French frontier,
+fighting against the Cossacks and the emigrés. There are no assassins in
+our family!"
+
+From this moment the trial went on rapidly. The sentence was a foregone
+conclusion.
+
+Robeccal was condemned to death. Fanfar, under the name of Jacques
+Fougère, was sentenced to the galleys for life.
+
+But just as the sentenced was pronounced, a singular event occurred.
+Fanfar rose and opened his lips as if to speak, extended his arm, and
+fell full length on the floor. Cries of astonishment arose from the
+crowd.
+
+"He has killed himself!" cried some.
+
+"He has been poisoned!" said others.
+
+Irène hastened to find Gudel. She had seen him near the door, but he had
+vanished. The crowd departed, saying to each other, sadly:
+
+"He is dead!"
+
+Robeccal was carried off more dead than alive. His sentence had
+frightened him. Perhaps he had not unbounded confidence in the honest
+people who had employed him.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXVIII.
+
+THE CRISIS.
+
+
+"At last!" cried the Marquis, when the news of Fanfar's death reached
+him. He sent for Magdalena.
+
+"Madame!" he said, "rejoice with me. Let us forget our mutual wrongs,
+for a new horizon stretches before us. All our anxieties are over. The
+man who stood between us and the possession of a fortune is dead!"
+
+"Of whom do you speak?"
+
+"Of this Fanfar, who, after making an attempt on the life of our king,
+was struck dead in the court-room during his trial."
+
+"And this Fanfar was the son of Simon de Fongereues?"
+
+"Yes, Madame, of my brother. And our father, who hated us, as you know,
+left the larger part of his fortune in the care of a fanatical
+body-servant of his, who held it as in trust for Simon's son whenever he
+should find him. He refused to relinquish this trust until he had proof
+of the death of the youth. Now he must be made to speak, for the only
+heir of the Fongereues fortune is myself, and I shall appeal to the
+law."
+
+The Marquise talked with her husband for a long time. The next thing to
+do was to make Gudel speak frankly. This he had no hesitation in doing,
+and he again told the story he had told to the Marquis.
+
+As to Pierre Labarre, of course he could make no further resistance. So
+long as the Marquis knew that Fanfar was living he had been obliged to
+be cautious; now no such reason existed.
+
+The dreams of the Marquis were realized--a million for the Jesuits, and
+the gratification of his ambition and pride.
+
+"Our son will be rich and happy!" said Magdalena, in an ecstasy of joy.
+"But where is the boy? Write, Marquis, write to him at once. He must be
+suffering intolerably in this exile you have imposed upon him."
+
+But Fongereues did not heed her words. He was thinking of other things.
+
+"Cyprien has served me well!" he said. "How is it that I have not seen
+him for two days?"
+
+"I was speaking of our son!" answered Magdalena, angrily. "Do you not
+think of your son? Do you not love your son?"
+
+The Marquis took her hand. "It is time that we understood each other,"
+he said, sadly. "For twenty years I have lived a melancholy life. I have
+yielded to your caprices, I have followed your counsel, and to what end?
+Look at me--my hair is gray, my face is seamed and lined. I have never
+had one hour of repose. For whom have I carried this burthen? For
+myself? I despise mankind, I despise power, I despise you, and despise
+myself. I have but one real passion in life, and that is my love for
+this wretched boy who bears my name. What have you, his mother, done
+for him?"
+
+Magdalena turned away from her husband's melancholy eyes.
+
+"Why I love him," continued the Marquis, "I know not, except that
+criminals love their children as wild beasts their young. You have
+questioned me, and I have answered you. Are you satisfied?"
+
+There came at this moment a hurried knock at the door.
+
+"Come in!" cried the Marquis, angrily.
+
+A valet entered with a very pale face.
+
+"Monsieur! my young master--"
+
+"Ah! he has come!" cried the Marquise, rushing to the door.
+
+But the lacquey extended his arms, as if to stop her.
+
+"Madame!" he began.
+
+"Well! what is it?"
+
+"My young master is dead!" said the lacquey, with trembling lips.
+
+Then there went up the cry of two stricken hearts. The two criminals
+looked at each other. They must have misunderstood the servant, who now
+pointed to the stairs, up which were coming men bearing a bier. What was
+underneath the cloth? Was it their son? Impossible!
+
+A young man appeared. Magdalena rushed toward him, without a word. The
+youth bowed his head.
+
+"Yes, he is dead. Monsieur de Talizac has been killed in a duel!"
+
+Magdalena sank upon the floor, unconscious. Fongereues laughed
+hysterically.
+
+"Nonsense! My son has fought no duel," he said.
+
+"Yes--with Arthur de Montferrand, whose sword pierced his heart!"
+
+Fongereues tore the cloth from the bier. Yes, it was the Vicomte de
+Talizac. The wretched father tried to speak. Every muscle in his face
+quivered. The servants fell back, shocked by all this agony.
+
+"Tell me all!" he said at last.
+
+"There is little to tell, sir, beyond the bare fact. I have, however, a
+letter which the Vicomte gave me before he went on the ground."
+
+Magdalena snatched this letter and tore it open. It contained but one
+line:
+
+
+  "Faithless parents, I curse you with my dying breath!"
+
+
+These words, coming from beyond the tomb, were terrible.
+
+At this moment the door opened. An old man, with head uncovered and
+long, white hair, stood there.
+
+"The Vicomte de Talizac is dead!" whispered one of the servants.
+
+The stranger started, and, with a compassionate look, laid his hand on
+the shoulder of the Marquis, who was kneeling by the body of his son.
+The Marquis looked up and shrank back, saying:
+
+"Pierre Labarre!"
+
+It was, indeed, the old servant, sad eyed and hopeless. He had come to
+Paris as quickly as possible, leaving Françoise and Caillette to follow.
+He went at once to the court-room, and there heard that Fanfar had been
+carried to one of the lower rooms. Physicians had been sent for, who had
+attributed his death to an aneurism.
+
+"You are avenged, Pierre!" cried the Marquis. "Why are you here? Leave
+this house at once!"
+
+But the old man did not move.
+
+"No!" he said, "you must hear me. We have not done with each other." He
+extended his hand toward the dead body. "You may well weep for your son,
+Marquis, but you may also weep for Fanfar."
+
+"Yes, because this fellow, for whom you would have stolen my father's
+fortune, is dead. This Fanfar was my brother's son--I know it, and you
+know it, too, but you do not know that I killed him!"
+
+Labarre drew back in terror.
+
+"No, no--do not say that!"
+
+"Why should I not say it? It is true. I discovered the secret of his
+birth, and I removed him from my path--I poisoned him!"
+
+The old man staggered to the wall, where he leaned for support.
+
+"Now, denounce me!" cried the Marquis, "and I am ready to mount the
+scaffold. I killed this Fanfar, and this thought is all that gives me a
+ray of comfort!"
+
+"Hush! This Fanfar was not the Marquis de Fongereues, he was not Simon's
+son. Do you remember a night which you once spent in a humble cottage at
+Sachemont?"
+
+"Sachemont?" repeated Fongereues.
+
+"That night two men claimed the hospitality of an old man. One of these
+strangers was a Frenchman, but he was base enough to insult the daughter
+of the old man. He did worse--he committed a dastardly crime. That man,
+sir, was known as the Marquis de Talizac!"
+
+Fongereues sat with his eyes fixed on the old man.
+
+"The Vicomte fled like a scoundrel, leaving dishonor and despair on his
+track. But he never knew that the poor girl gave birth to a child--a
+son."
+
+"What of that!" cried Fongereues, who did not choose to understand.
+
+"Silence! I have not finished. Do you know who took that child and
+educated him? It was the brother whom you hated. Your victim was dead
+and he married her sister, and later, when you set the Cossacks on the
+village of Leigoutte and bade them to kill women and children, there was
+one child named Jacques and that child was your son."
+
+Fongereues was deadly pale; large drops stood on his brow.
+
+"You lie!" cried the Marquis, "Fanfar was my brother's son."
+
+"Here is the certificate of his birth," said Pierre. "You knew Simon's
+writing, for you intercepted his letters to your father. Look! these
+lines tell the story."
+
+
+  "I, eldest son of the Marquis de Fongereues, declare, on my sacred
+  word of honor, that the child who bears my name and passes for my son,
+  is the child of Jacqueline Lemaître and the Vicomte de Talizac."
+
+
+"The paper is signed with Simon's full name."
+
+The Marquis fell on his knees.
+
+"Ah! Monsieur, these are terrible days, but you will not say again that
+you poisoned Fanfar."
+
+Fongereues shuddered, and endeavored to hide his face.
+
+Labarre felt dizzy with horror. "Answer me," he repeated.
+
+Fongereues answered in a low voice:
+
+"Kill me! I have killed my son!"
+
+The old servant started forward as if to fell the Marquis to the earth,
+but suddenly he remembered his old master, the man whom he had loved so
+tenderly, and he could not harm his son. He half turned away.
+
+"Tell me the whole," he faltered, "I must know the whole."
+
+"Yes," stammered the Marquis. "Cyprien, who is my slave, poisoned him. I
+determined to have the fortune without longer delay. I bade him do this
+deed, and he obeyed me. I am accursed!"
+
+Labarre went toward the door.
+
+"Farewell!" he said.
+
+"No," cried the Marquis, "you must not leave me alone with this dead
+man. I am afraid! You must take me too to see the other."
+
+Labarre stopped short. "Where was Cyprien?" he asked hastily.
+
+The Marquis understood him. He rang his bell furiously. It might be
+after all that he was not guilty of Fanfar's death.
+
+A servant entered. The Marquis asked for Cyprien; he had not been seen
+in the hôtel for two days, the lacquey replied.
+
+The Marquis turned to his father's servant.
+
+"I have grave duties to perform," he said, quietly, "first I must see my
+son. You must go with me."
+
+Labarre shook his head.
+
+"In the name of my brother!" said Fongereues. Then stopping, he said,
+suddenly, "Does this fortune left by my father really exist?"
+
+Labarre started. Could it be that this man at this time could be
+thinking of money?
+
+"You misunderstand me!" cried the Marquis, "but never mind, answer me!"
+
+"The money is safe," said Pierre.
+
+"And you can give me a million to-morrow?"
+
+"What do you want of a million?"
+
+"Can you give it to me, that is the question?"
+
+"I can."
+
+Fongereues wrote a few words, and rang the bell.
+
+"Take this letter to Monsieur Fernando de Vellebri, and see that there
+is no delay. And now, Pierre, come with me."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXIX.
+
+THE AUTOPSY.
+
+
+In a house opposite the Palais de Justice, two men were talking together
+in an attic room. One of these men was seated, the other was standing.
+The one who was seated, robust and vigorous, was anxiously questioning a
+person, who answered slowly and coldly.
+
+"Then Doctor, you are sure?"
+
+"Have no uneasiness. I know what I am doing."
+
+"You understand that it is for to-morrow, and nothing can be done during
+the night. It means, in short, forty hours."
+
+"When I accepted the terrible responsibility which you proposed to me, I
+weighed every detail. And once more I bid you have entire confidence in
+me and in science, and in the devotion of those who are brothers in a
+common cause."
+
+"Forgive me!" repeated the other. "Forgive my anxiety and apparent
+distrust."
+
+"I am at your disposal at all times and seasons; if the important moment
+be advanced or retarded, be sure that I shall be in readiness."
+
+The two men shook hands cordially, and the Doctor went out. The other
+threw himself on a chair, and covering his face with his huge hands,
+wept bitterly--wept like a child, did this poor Iron Jaws. Suddenly he
+started up, and cried:
+
+"This must succeed! This must succeed!"
+
+He heard hurried steps coming up the stairs, and then a knock at the
+door.
+
+"Who is it?"
+
+"Bobichel!"
+
+It was indeed Bobichel, red and much out of breath.
+
+"Well?" asked Gudel.
+
+"Oh! she is an angel! she had been crying when I got there. She brought
+me here in her carriage, and she wants to see you."
+
+Gudel strode from the room. On the lower floor he found Irène waiting;
+she was pale and dressed in black.
+
+"Ah! sir," she said, anxiety sharpening her voice, "tell me what all
+this means!"
+
+"Fanfar is not dead."
+
+The girl swayed to and fro. Gudel caught her, and went on.
+
+"No, he is not dead. I thought you ought to know it."
+
+"Where is he?"
+
+"Ah! dear lady, he lies at this moment in a dark room, and looks as if
+he could never again rise."
+
+"Horrible!"
+
+"Yes, in a way, but not so bad when you come to think about it, for
+to-morrow Fanfar will be alive and free."
+
+"Alive and free! Ah! I dare not hope. But tell me the whole."
+
+"You remember that I sent you a note to give to Fanfar?"
+
+"Yes--I have it still."
+
+"Now, if you are not afraid of a little dampness, I will show you
+something."
+
+Irène looked at Gudel in amazement.
+
+"Very good, but first about Fanfar?"
+
+"I assure you, dear lady, that he is safe. Now, Bobichel, go; see and
+hear all you can, and if you find out anything new, come to me at once."
+
+"All right, master," and with a double somersault Bobichel vanished.
+
+Gudel lighted a lantern, and then said to Irène that he was ready. They
+went out into a corridor, and Gudel, taking a key from his pocket,
+opened a small door which showed stone steps going down.
+
+"Be careful," said Iron Jaws, "for the steps are very slippery."
+
+He held the lantern high and guided her steps. It was like a gnome
+guiding a fairy into some mine of wealth. But it was not toward any
+treasure that Gudel conducted Irène. He opened another door after
+pushing several bolts.
+
+"Up with you!" he cried, "you have company!"
+
+Notwithstanding all her courage, Irène started back.
+
+"Have no fear, Mademoiselle," said Iron Jaws, "he is a ferocious beast,
+but he is chained!"
+
+Irène beheld a man fastened to the wall with an iron chain. At first she
+did not recognize him.
+
+"This individual," said Gudel, "is Cyprien, the man who does all the
+dirty work of his excellency the Marquis de Fongereues, going so far as
+to do a little poisoning on occasion."
+
+"Undo my chain!" cried Cyprien.
+
+"Not if I know it! But if you answer my questions, you shall have
+something to eat."
+
+"I am hungry!" murmured the rascal.
+
+"Pshaw! one meal each day will certainly prevent your being miserable.
+Now, why did you poison Fanfar?"
+
+The fellow sighed.
+
+"Tell me what interest you had in poisoning Fanfar."
+
+"I don't know."
+
+"That is a lie!"
+
+"He can tell you nothing," whispered Irène, "let him go."
+
+"No, Mademoiselle. This scoundrel bribed one of the jailers to give
+Fanfar a drug that would have killed him in five minutes. Fortunately, I
+was on the watch. I captured Cyprien and I brought him here. But I
+confess I am greatly puzzled by one thing--it is that I can't make out
+what the Marquis had against Fanfar, and this animal will not tell me."
+
+"My friend," said Irène, "however guilty you may be, you are but the
+instrument of others. Why, then, do you not try to make amends for your
+errors by telling the truth?"
+
+Cyprien hesitated, but he said again:
+
+"I do not know."
+
+"Then good-night, my dear fellow!" said Gudel. "Here is a loaf of bread
+for you, rascal that you are!"
+
+Irène hastened from the dungeon, and when they had again ascended the
+stairs, Gudel said to her:
+
+"These fellows are all alike, after all!"
+
+"What are you trying to do?" asked Irène.
+
+"It is simple enough. Instead of poison, Fanfar took a narcotic, and
+lies as if dead. He will be buried, of course, but we will look out for
+that, and he will be taken care of."
+
+The shock to Irène was so great that she burst into passionate weeping.
+Gudel was doing his best to soothe her, when suddenly the door was
+thrown open and Bobichel rushed in, all pale and dishevelled.
+
+"Oh! master," he cried, "all is lost! There is to be an autopsy. One of
+the great physicians advises it."
+
+Irène uttered a shriek of agony and dropped on her knees.
+
+"Run!" she cried, "the truth must be made known at once. Oh! save him!"
+
+Gudel tore his hair. Suddenly a thought struck him.
+
+"Who is the physician?"
+
+"Dr. Albant, from the Tuileries."
+
+Iron Jaws reflected. He took Irène's hands in his.
+
+"I am but a poor fellow, dear lady, only a strolling player, but I swear
+to you that Fanfar shall be saved!"
+
+Irène was comforted.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XL.
+
+BETWEEN CHARYBDIS AND SCYLLA.
+
+
+The situation was indeed a terrible one. Bobichel's words were true.
+
+When Fanfar fell as if dead, it was supposed that it was an attack of
+apoplexy, and some good people ventured to call it a judgment from
+heaven for his crimes. Others again spoke of poison, and arraigned the
+governor of the prison for carelessness. There was one physician among
+those who were called in who could not agree with the others. He used a
+number of scientific expressions, but the fact remained the same--Fanfar
+was dead. But there was so much discussion that a post-mortem
+examination was deemed essential. The body, therefore, was carried on a
+litter to the hospital, where he was examined by a crowd of curious
+medical students, who declared that he was so splendidly developed that
+he ought to have lived to be a hundred years old.
+
+A messenger was sent to Dr. Albant, and the dissecting table was
+prepared.
+
+This time the plan of the heroes of the right had failed. Fanfar was
+alive, but he would certainly be killed now, as his torpidity was so
+great that he would not utter a cry or a groan until the instruments
+touched some vital organ.
+
+The door opened and Dr. Albant, a handsome old man, entered with smiles
+and nods. He removed his coat and tied on a large apron. Trying the edge
+of his scalpel on his nail, he turned to the students and physicians,
+and began to talk of the German method of conducting a post mortem.
+
+"We French, however, begin here," he said, lightly placing his scalpel
+on the tender flesh.
+
+"Dr. Albant!" cried a stentorian voice.
+
+The surgeon turned. A messenger in the king's livery stood in the
+doorway.
+
+"Gentlemen, excuse me--the king communicates with me!"
+
+A close observer would have thought it singular that the king should
+send a letter by an ordinary servant, like a simple bourgeois. But this
+did not seem to strike Dr. Albant, who, with a face beaming with smiles,
+turned to the students, saying:
+
+"Excuse me, gentlemen, but the king demands my presence."
+
+"But the autopsy?"
+
+"Oh! that may be given up. This man died from cerebral congestion--I see
+it as plain as day!"
+
+As he spoke he tore off his apron, and got himself into his coat again
+with all possible speed.
+
+"Bury the man at once!" he said as he left the room. A carriage awaited
+him at the door, and he drove off.
+
+The royal messenger waited a moment and then he, too, walked away, and
+going down a narrow alley he entered a little wineshop by a back door,
+and throwing himself on a bench, exclaimed:
+
+"I was just in time, Bobichel. A second later and Fanfar would have been
+no more!"
+
+The hospital was now anxious to get rid of this useless body, and orders
+were given that it should be buried without delay. Gudel and his friends
+had bribed the functionaries.
+
+All went smoothly, and in an hour the hearse was to take Fanfar away.
+But before this, a card was brought in to the governor of the hospital.
+On this card was the name of the Marquis de Fongereues, and in the
+corner of the glossy bit of pasteboard was a tiny sign, which signified
+that his visitor was especially recommended by the Society of which he
+was a member. He gave orders that the Marquis should be shown in at
+once.
+
+Fongereues appeared, leaning on the arm of Pierre Labarre. The Marquis
+had suddenly grown old, his strength was gone, and his feet were as
+uncertain as those of a drunken man.
+
+The governor rose to receive him. Fongereues tried to speak, but his
+voice died in his throat. He handed the governor an order from the
+minister, directing that the body of the man named Fanfar should be
+surrendered to the Marquis de Fongereues.
+
+Our readers will notice that the promised million had already borne
+fruit in the granting of the first request made by the Marquis, who had
+laid aside his ambition and thought only of recovering the body of his
+son in return for the million.
+
+"Can I see the body?" asked the Marquis.
+
+The governor bowed assent and led him to the room where Fanfar still
+lay. Fongereues looked down on the noble features and manly form. How
+entirely they differed from those of the son for whom the Marquis had
+sacrificed everything. The Marquis knelt in silence for some minutes,
+while Labarre shed bitter tears.
+
+"What does the Marquis propose to do?" asked the governor, who did not
+understand this scene, and was becoming impatient.
+
+Labarre said, in a low voice, "The men will come up with a bier."
+
+In a few minutes Fanfar's body was carried to the Hôtel de Fongereues
+and laid by the side of the Vicomte.
+
+Labarre made no attempt to resist this caprice of the Marquis. The old
+servant, now that De Fongereues showed such humility and grief, had
+become his devoted servant.
+
+The Marquis asked for his wife, and was told that she had left the hôtel
+alone and on foot.
+
+"Pierre," said the Marquis, "I must say a few words to you. With the
+exception of this million I have required at your hands, the fortune
+which should have been Simon's must be given to his daughter. Tell her
+the whole truth; it is only just. Watch over this girl, proclaim her
+right to the name and property of our house. When I am dead do not lay
+me in French soil--I am not worthy of France--but place me where I am
+unknown and unheard of. You will obey these wishes?"
+
+Labarre answered, solemnly, "I will obey them."
+
+"Very good; we will start to-night for the château, and there side by
+side we will bury the two sons whom I have murdered."
+
+While Fongereues, crushed under the weight of his remorse, was thus
+announcing his last wishes, another scene was taking place in the
+hospital. Gudel and Bobichel had applied for Fanfar's body.
+
+"Too late!" answered the concierge. And the two men heard with
+consternation that Fanfar had been taken away. And where? No one knew.
+
+Delay was inevitable. Gudel and the former clown went out into the
+street and there abandoned themselves to their distress.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLI.
+
+VIDOCQ, THE CHIEF OF POLICE.
+
+
+To be condemned to death cannot be a very pleasant feeling, and
+Robeccal, though assured that he should not suffer, was naturally very
+uneasy. He did his best to keep up his courage, hoping every minute that
+some one would appear and furnish him with the means of leaving France.
+Finally the door opened, and Vidocq himself, the Chief of Police,
+entered.
+
+Robeccal, in a state of suppressed delight, had the audacity to wink at
+him.
+
+"At last!" said the prisoner. "Really, sir, I think I have had about
+enough of this. When am I to leave France?"
+
+"I think, my dear sir," answered Vidocq, in a somewhat sarcastic voice,
+"that you will not leave France."
+
+"Ah! I am glad to hear that."
+
+"A residence has been assigned to you in a most delightful climate."
+
+"And where may that be? What is the name of the place?"
+
+"You will have no difficulty in remembering it, I fancy. Toulon is the
+name."
+
+"Toulon!" repeated Robeccal, his eyes fairly starting from his head.
+
+"Yes, your punishment has been changed. You are condemned, not to death,
+but to imprisonment for life."
+
+Robeccal tried to smile. It was a joke, of course, but he did not like
+it.
+
+"My dear sir," continued Vidocq, calmly and politely, "You are a
+scoundrel, and you accepted a base rôle. You think we have broken faith
+with you, but faith can not be kept with creatures like yourself."
+
+Robeccal protested and raved, all to no purpose.
+
+Vidocq went to the door and called; four men, each Hercules, appeared.
+
+"Take this fellow away," said Vidocq, "he is to go with the other
+prisoners to Toulon in the morning."
+
+Robeccal began to curse and swear.
+
+"You will gag him," added Vidocq, "it is better. Good-bye, Monsieur
+Robeccal, I don't think we are likely to meet again!"
+
+Vidocq looked on with a satirical smile while Robeccal was carried off.
+
+Some months later he endeavored to make his escape from Toulon, and was
+shot.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLII.
+
+TO THOSE WHO LOVE FANFAR.
+
+
+Night was coming on. The last rays of the setting sun shone on the water
+at Havre.
+
+Down on the shore among the rocks, was a fisherman's hut; in it was a
+man alone; he was restlessly pacing to and fro. Occasionally he stopped
+and seemed to listen, but he only heard the lapping of the water on the
+beach. Hour after hour elapsed; he seemed to be waiting for some one.
+
+Suddenly he started; he heard a stone fall. He went to the door and
+looked out. Two figures were to be seen dimly in the fog. He waited a
+minute, and then he said, "Whom do you seek?"
+
+A brief silence, and a sweet voice replied, "Fanfar."
+
+The two shadows were two women--Françoise and Caillette.
+
+The young man seized a lamp and went to meet them.
+
+"But Fanfar! where is Fanfar?" asked Caillette.
+
+Presently other steps were heard.
+
+"Whom do you seek?" asked the young man, once more.
+
+"Fanfar!" answered a trembling voice.
+
+And under the yellow rays of the lamp two more women were seen--Irène de
+Salves and Francine. When the latter beheld Arthur de Montferrand she
+started, while Irène impulsively pronounced his name.
+
+They all entered the cottage, and looked around the room anxiously. The
+same name was on every lip. Fanfar, where was he?
+
+The night after Fanfar had been carried to the hôtel Fongereues, a
+mysterious note had been sent to Irène, to Francine, and Caillette.
+
+
+  "_To all who love Fanfar:_
+
+  "Repair at once to Havre. Go to the cottage of the fisherman Pierre.
+  Wait! Hope!"
+
+
+Similar instructions had been sent to Arthur, but to the questions
+addressed to him by these four ladies, he could only say that he knew no
+more than they.
+
+"We must wait," he said.
+
+"But Gudel?" asked Caillette. "Where is he?"
+
+"I know not," Arthur replied, "and yet I am almost sure that these notes
+are from him."
+
+Caillette went to Irène's side. The poor girl loved Fanfar with all her
+heart, and she believed that he was lost to her, for if by a miracle she
+were to see him again it would be as Irène's lover. But she accepted the
+sacrifice. She said in a low voice to Irène:
+
+"I am glad you came, for you love him."
+
+Irène pressed her hand; she could not speak.
+
+Suddenly Irène started, her instinct had told her the truth.
+
+"And you," she exclaimed, "you also love him."
+
+The two girls embraced each other tenderly. All this time Françoise sat
+perfectly silent, she was content now that Cinette was near her, but
+still she thought of Jacques with longing.
+
+Where was old Labarre?
+
+Arthur leaned against the window looking out into the night, and
+listening to the voice of the waters. He had long since discovered that
+he loved Francine, and he said to himself:
+
+"If I restore her brother to her, she may learn to love me."
+
+And now he waited anxiously for a signal, which would give him the right
+to speak a word of hope to this little group of friends. He uttered a
+little exclamation.
+
+"Come here!" he cried, gayly, "come here, and look out!"
+
+From among the dark waters rose a brilliant rocket which, darting
+through the air, fell in a shower of brilliant sparks.
+
+The three girls ran to the window. How long were those last moments of
+waiting. Finally the measured beat of oars was heard, the prow of a boat
+struck against the pebbly beach, and shadows were seen coming toward the
+cottage. The door opened.
+
+Irène and Caillette burst into tears.
+
+Francine cried, "Fanfar! my brother!"
+
+"Zounds!" cried Gudel, "it was not such an easy matter getting here."
+
+Fanfar sank on his knees before Françoise. "My poor mother!" he
+exclaimed.
+
+And the invalid took Fanfar's head in her trembling hands, and kissed
+him tenderly.
+
+"And Bobichel! you here, too!" cried Caillette, overjoyed.
+
+Irène went to Fanfar's side. "I have come," she said, quietly.
+
+Without leaving his mother he took the girl's fair hand and pressed it
+to his lips.
+
+Arthur began to question Gudel, and from him learned the whole truth.
+
+The friends, after Fanfar's body was removed, decided on reflection that
+Cyprien was the sole person who could aid them. At first he refused to
+give them the smallest information, but finally he was made to speak.
+They went to the Hôtel de Fongereues, but the sad party had left for
+Alsace. Two leagues away they were overtaken however. Labarre was told
+the whole truth. Fanfar was liberated, and restored to life by the
+physician whom Gudel had brought with him. The Marquis de Fongereues
+went on to the château with the body of the Vicomte.
+
+"And Labarre, where is he?"
+
+"In the boat waiting for us, but I have not yet told you all. We should
+have made an end of Cyprien, for he threatened to denounce us. The only
+thing for Fanfar is to flee the country. A quarter of a league from
+shore a vessel awaits us. Come, Fanfar, there is no time to lose, you
+know that you start for America to-night."
+
+There was a long silence. Labarre entered.
+
+"Marquis," he said, "it is time."
+
+There was a startled exclamation. Whom did he salute by this title?
+
+Fanfar rose.
+
+"Do not call me by this name. I am Jacques, the adopted son of Simon
+Fougère."
+
+Irène went to him.
+
+"Jacques," she said, "you long since bade me seek to make myself loved.
+Have I followed your advice?"
+
+"I love you," answered Fanfar, simply.
+
+"Do you wish me to become your wife?"
+
+Caillette uttered a smothered exclamation.
+
+"Fanfar," she said, "the lady loves you truly."
+
+The young man pressed his hand upon his eyes.
+
+"Thanks," he said, "your hearts are all noble and good."
+
+"Come one and all!" cried Iron Jaws, gayly.
+
+"Are you going?" asked Arthur.
+
+Francine replied with downcast eyes: "Can I leave my brother?"
+
+"Then I too will go," Arthur exclaimed, "I too will begin to take life
+seriously, if you will aid me."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+After the Vicomte de Talizac was buried, the Marquis disappeared and was
+no more heard of. Magdalena committed suicide. Bobichel married
+Caillette, whom he adored as much as he adored Fanfar. Françoise and
+Labarre neither of them lived long. Cyprien continued to act as spy for
+the French government. And La Roulante was assassinated in a drunken
+frolic.
+
+This was the story of Fanfar, which we have completed, for Fanfar's
+modesty was too great to allow him to say what we have said for him.
+
+The party all went to Algeria, intending thence to start for America,
+but finally decided to remain where French activity finds such a wide
+field. They lived contented and happy, forgotten and forgetting.
+
+"And I am truly thankful," said Fanfar, in conclusion, extending his
+hand to Monte-Cristo, "that I have been permitted to utilize my former
+talents for your benefit."
+
+Monte-Cristo lingered a week or more that Esperance might recover from
+his fatigue of both body and mind, but the day finally came when the
+caravan started for France.
+
+"Monsieur Fanfar," said the Count, "are we never to meet again?"
+
+"Ah! who can say!" and Fanfar smiled. "I shall never forget my beloved
+France, and I am sometimes sick with longing to return."
+
+"Then, some day if I need you for the protection of my son, and send for
+you," said Monte-Cristo, "you will come?"
+
+"I swear that I will." And Fanfar laid his hand on the boy's head.
+
+"We will all swear!" cried Iron Jaws. "The son of Monte-Cristo is sacred
+to us. Who ever touches a hair of his head shall suffer."
+
+We have now to learn how Fanfar and his friends kept this promise.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLIII.
+
+A LETTER FROM MONTE-CRISTO.
+
+
+"MY DEAR CHILD:
+
+"Twelve years have elapsed since that terrible day when, with the
+assistance of our dear friends in Algeria, I was enabled to save you
+from a most awful death. Since then many events have swept over my head,
+which is to-day becoming very gray.
+
+"I am over sixty, and yet I hope to do a little more good in the world.
+But I must hasten.
+
+"I have borne up against many misfortunes and great catastrophes, and
+one, even alone, prostrated me and deprived me of courage, and that was
+the death of your beloved mother. I realized then that I was only a man.
+I said to myself: 'Monte-Cristo, the color has fled from your cheek, the
+fire from your eye. You are in possession of old Faria's secrets and
+science, but you are powerless against Death. You have triumphed over
+Villefort, Morcerf, Danglars, Benedetto and Maldar, but you cannot
+triumph over Death! Remember that you are only a man!'
+
+"You were just sixteen, Esperance, when your mother was taken from us,
+and your tears fell with mine, but you said to yourself: 'My father
+remains!' But, my beloved son, something in that father died at that
+time, or rather, I should say that something was born--his
+self-confidence vanished forever, and doubt took its place. For many
+long years, my son, your father deemed himself master of his own
+destiny, and with a certain simplicity at which I smile to-day, he
+fancied that he could make all wills bend to his. From that moment
+wrinkles came to my brow and my hair grew white, and I cannot smooth
+away those wrinkles, nor can my will, strong though it be, bring back
+the color to my lips nor fire to my eyes. I have punished the
+evil-doers, but when I sought to repair the evil I had committed, I have
+not always succeeded.
+
+"I released the son of Mercédès from the fanatics of Ouargla, but two
+years later, in December, 1851, he fell, on the day of that
+'_attentat_,' which is not yet avenged.
+
+"Where is Maximilian Morel, where is the daughter of Villefort, the
+gentle Valentine, whose happiness was dear to me? Did not they all
+perish in the frightful revolt of the Sepoys in India in 1859? It is
+clear to me that my love was powerless to protect.
+
+"If I write this to you, my son, it is not with a wish to sadden you.
+But you are not only my son but my confessor, as well as my one joy and
+my hope. From your mother you inherit generous instincts and a spirit of
+devotion. From me you have received vigor and energy, but I trust that
+you inherit none of my pride.
+
+"When this letter reaches you I shall be far away. Yes, and I wish you
+to know why. There is a suggestion of weakness in your nature which I
+wish to eradicate. When you are with me you do not do justice to
+yourself--you are content to walk in my shadow and see life through my
+eyes. But I desire to remind you that you have arrived at man's estate,
+and that you must live your own life and think your own thoughts. You
+are free, you are twenty-two, and you are wealthy. You have, therefore,
+no reason to fear that any obstacles will be thrown in your path. You
+have no enemies--I have scattered them from your path. Think only of
+making friends for yourself. I have had protégés rather than friends.
+
+"I know you to be sincere and generous. Believe and give. It is good
+sometimes for a man to make mistakes. True experience is made up of
+errors. Do not be afraid of their consequences. But, nevertheless, be
+cautious. Avoid the irreparable. To kiss is a crime, the only one,
+possibly, because it is the only one that cannot be repaired. If,
+however, you commit great faults, do not hesitate to acknowledge them.
+
+"Make your own way through life, my son. I have left you that you may do
+so. You have near you devoted hearts. Coucon will never forsake you. I
+have taken my old Bertuccio with me. I did not wish you to think that I
+had left any one to watch you and report to me. In case of danger,
+summon Fanfar.
+
+"Up to this time I feel that you have had no secrets from me. Your heart
+is free, let it be your guide. Remember that love, often great
+happiness, is more often great sorrow.
+
+"I love you, my son, though I leave you. I know not where I am going. I
+long to do good, and hope to find happiness.
+
+"Dear, dear child! Oh! how I love you!
+
+"MONTE-CRISTO."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLIV.
+
+ESPERANCE.
+
+
+The youthful son of Monte-Cristo was twenty-two years of age, and
+wonderfully handsome. His dark curls shaded a fair, white brow, and his
+eyes were haughty like his father's. His slender white hands were
+womanly in their delicacy. But we will examine his surroundings.
+
+Whenever Monte-Cristo established himself in a new home, the house
+became transformed as if a magician of the Arabian Nights had touched it
+with his wand. There was not a dark or gloomy corner to be seen. Lights
+blazed everywhere. The rarest pictures and choicest furniture were to be
+seen. Everything was magnificent and harmonious. The tall stature of the
+Count, his excessive pallor and the exaggerated attention he paid to his
+dress, added to this effect, as did the dark face of Ali, who,
+invariably draped in soft, white folds, stood like a bronze statue near
+the many colored portières. With the Vicomte, however, all colors were
+softer than with his father. The cabinet, for example, where we find
+him, was hung with gray and black velvet, and the rugs were fur, of the
+same soft gray.
+
+The Vicomte's dress was in no ways peculiar, though careful. He disliked
+anything that made him conspicuous. His face and his voice had a certain
+sadness that contrasted strangely with his name of Esperance.[A] Books
+lay open on the table before him; they were on philosophical subjects,
+heat and cold. Imagination had never touched him with her golden wand.
+
+      [A] Esperance means Hope.
+
+Esperance was very pale as he read his father's letter. He extended his
+hand and rang the bell.
+
+Coucon entered, looking very differently from those old days in Africa.
+Not that he wore a livery, but his brown suit was simple and well cut.
+In his eyes, however, was much of the old fire.
+
+"Has my father gone?" asked Esperance.
+
+"Yes, sir, while you were asleep."
+
+"Why was not I awakened?"
+
+"Because the Count forbade it. He simply said, as he went away, that a
+letter was to be given to you."
+
+"Was Bertuccio with my father?"
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+"In what direction did he go?"
+
+"I know not, and I assure you that no one in the hôtel knows more than
+I."
+
+Coucon was glad when this examination was over. Esperance was never
+harsh or severe with his people, but they never felt at ease with him as
+with his father. But in fact Bertuccio had given no hint of where the
+Count was going, and when Esperance was fully convinced of this he
+dismissed Coucon; but as the Zouave was leaving the room, the young
+master stopped him.
+
+"I want to say to you, Coucon, that I am fully aware of your fidelity,
+and that I trust you implicitly. You once assisted my father to save my
+life."
+
+"Never mind that, sir."
+
+"And if my manner is cold toward you, my heart is not. Shake hands with
+me."
+
+Coucon, greatly pleased, laid his huge hand into the delicate one of the
+Vicomte, who pressed it warmly.
+
+The Zouave uttered an exclamation.
+
+"What is the matter?"
+
+"Nothing--only--"
+
+"Only what?"
+
+"Well, sir, you have a tremendous squeeze, I must say. Your fingers felt
+as if they were made of steel."
+
+Esperance looked at his hands in some surprise.
+
+"Yes," he said, in a dreamy voice, "I am strong, I believe."
+
+"Strong! I should say you were."
+
+"I did not hurt you, I trust?" and Esperance still gazed at his hands in
+a troubled sort of way.
+
+"Where will you breakfast, sir?" asked Coucon.
+
+"In the gallery, I think."
+
+"And alone?"
+
+"I don't know; I do not remember inviting any one."
+
+Coucon departed, proud of the shake of the hand he had received,
+although he still rubbed his fingers to restore the circulation.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLV.
+
+"WHAT WILL HE DO?"
+
+
+Esperance was alone; his brow was thoughtful. He sank into a chair and
+buried his face in his hands. Suddenly he started up, and drawing aside
+the heavy portière over a door, entered a small, dark room that seemed
+to be an oratory.
+
+Stained glass windows admitted an uncertain light. Esperance threw open
+the sash and the daylight streamed in, and with it the delicious breeze
+of spring. Esperance turned to the wall, on which hung a fine picture of
+Monte-Cristo. Next this portrait hung one of his mother.
+
+The young man spoke aloud. "Father!" he said, "mother! listen to me,
+judge me and counsel me. Who and what am I? What is my future to be? Am
+I guilty or am I--mad?"
+
+Esperance shivered. Then throwing his head back proudly, he said, "No, I
+am not mad, and yet I cannot understand myself. Oh! father, why did I
+not have courage to speak to you frankly? You would have understood me
+and encouraged me. I am afraid of life, I am afraid of myself--afraid of
+the very name I bear, and of your greatness, the shadow of which falls
+on me."
+
+In the letter written by Monte-Cristo to his son, he had spoken the
+truth. He had not thought sufficiently of developing the especial
+characteristics of his son, and had made of him a philosopher.
+
+Esperance had been compelled to reason calmly on all subjects, and the
+inconsequence of youth had been frowned upon by his father.
+
+Edmond Dantès had been young, vivacious and full of illusions and hopes.
+Monte-Cristo forgot this, and forgot that Esperance was but twenty. He
+had been kind and loving to Esperance; he had, as he believed, armed him
+for the battle of life, but he had extinguished his boyishness and
+engrafted the seeds of distrust.
+
+Esperance never accused his father, but the result of this education was
+that he was afraid of himself and others. Monte-Cristo saw his son
+silent and sad at times, but he did not realize that it was because he
+had quenched the youth in him and made him prematurely old. He moreover
+suddenly became convinced that it was best for Esperance to leave him,
+and therefore departed silently and mysteriously.
+
+Esperance was armed against the tragedies of life, but not against its
+daily annoyances.
+
+Esperance had enormous muscular strength, and yet he was weak to resist
+sorrow. He could have held his hand on a brazier of burning coals, but
+he would have started at a pin-prick. And now that Monte-Cristo had
+gone, Esperance felt like a child deprived of its mother.
+
+A bell rang, announcing a visitor.
+
+He passed his hand over his brow. Then addressing the dear portraits
+once more, "Beloved mother!" he murmured, "give me your enthusiasm and
+your delicacy, and, my father, give me strength and courage. God grant
+that I may be worthy of you both!"
+
+He went to the window, and gazed up at the blue sky with an expression
+that was almost mystical. Then he closed the room, and returned to his
+chamber.
+
+Coucon appeared bearing two cards on a silver tray.
+
+Esperance looked at the cards, and uttered an exclamation of joy.
+
+"Lay two more covers," he said, "I will come down at once."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLVI.
+
+FORWARD!
+
+
+Esperance hurried down, and in the dining-room, a marvel of marqueterie
+and mosaic, was a young man.
+
+"My dear Goutran," he said, as the stranger advanced to meet him, "I
+cannot tell you how obliged I am for this visit."
+
+This Goutran, Goutran Sabrau, was a tall young fellow of about
+twenty-five, with blonde hair and a frank face. He was a painter, and
+had already attained some celebrity.
+
+"Upon my word, this is a welcome worth having," said Goutran. "But what
+is going on here, you do not look like yourself. Your eyes are much
+brighter than usual. Have you not some secret to confide to me?"
+
+The two young men took their seats at a table, laid with great elegance.
+
+"No. I have no secrets," answered Esperance, "and I am unaware of any
+change."
+
+"And yet the very tones of your voice are altered."
+
+Esperance interrupted his friend with some impatience.
+
+"Never mind that! I assure you that so far from having anything pleasant
+to communicate, I am out of spirits. My father has gone away."
+
+Goutran looked at him with some surprise.
+
+The intimacy between these young men had begun by Esperance wishing to
+buy a picture of Goutran's, which had obtained a great success at the
+Salon. The picture was of a gipsy girl playing a violin and dancing.
+Bertuccio went to the painter's studio, and offered an enormous sum for
+the picture, which was refused by Goutran. Accustomed to the
+gratification of all his caprices, he went himself to the studio. But
+the young man replied:
+
+"You offer me, sir, twenty thousand francs for a canvas for which a
+picture dealer would not give me fifty louis, and yet I refuse. At the
+same time I am immensely flattered, and feel that I owe you an
+explanation. The picture is dear to me for reasons which are neither a
+drama nor a poem. I had a friend whom I adored. She had an affection of
+the lungs and I often took her into the country. We were one day at
+Mendon when we heard strange music, wild barbarian music. We approached
+softly, and beheld through the trees a young gipsy girl playing a violin
+and lightly dancing as she played. We listened in astonishment, for the
+music was most singular. Suddenly I felt that my companion was clinging
+heavily to my arm. She had fainted. I seized her in my arms, and bore
+her away. In a week death was very near. Then she said to me:
+
+"'I must hear that gipsy again!'
+
+"I could not leave her, but I sent a friend to find this unknown girl.
+Each morning I discovered that the search had been fruitless. The sick
+girl said when I told her, 'Very well! I shall not die until she
+comes.' On the fourth day she half lifted herself from her bed
+exclaiming:
+
+"'There she is! I hear her!'
+
+"I ran to the window, and beheld the gipsy in the garden. How did the
+sick girl know she was there? The gipsy had not played a note. I could
+not refuse my poor Aimée anything, and sent for the gipsy to come at
+once to the room where the sick girl lay. The gipsy began to play such
+soft, mysterious melodies. Poor Aimée listened with a faint smile.
+Suddenly she drew me to her, kissed me, and died. This gipsy, sir, is
+the one I have painted. You see therefore that I could never part with
+this picture."
+
+At this time Esperance was doing his best to copy his father's manners.
+He was but twenty-one and he affected impassibility. He adopted his most
+phlegmatic English air, and replied to the painter:
+
+"Your story is most interesting, but I will give fifty thousand francs."
+
+Goutran was surprised and somewhat displeased. He repeated his refusal,
+and Esperance departed discontented with himself and with every one
+else.
+
+On thinking the whole affair over he was heartily ashamed of himself. On
+the third day he went to the studio, and, on entering, said simply:
+
+"For two days I have been uncomfortable. I beg you to accept my
+apologies for my ungentlemanly conduct."
+
+Goutran was an excellent person, he had early learned indulgence to
+others. He at once saw that this handsome young fellow was a boy in
+reality, with plenty of theories, but no experience of life. He
+therefore received this apology frankly, and talked for some time to him
+as to a younger brother.
+
+Esperance listened without a word. The distrust which was a part of his
+nature struggled against the cordiality shown by Goutran.
+
+Finally Esperance had a friend. To Goutran alone did he ever open his
+heart, and even when he had been with him for hours, laughing and
+talking with gayety, he appeared before Monte-Cristo as impassive as
+ever.
+
+Goutran did not attempt to penetrate the secrets of his life. He knew,
+however, that the day could not be far off when the butterfly would
+emerge from the chrysalis.
+
+"My father has gone away," Esperance had said.
+
+"Indeed! And where has he gone?"
+
+"I have no idea. He simply wrote me a few lines announcing his
+departure."
+
+Goutran did not think it worth while to be astonished, for this was a
+most singular household.
+
+"Then you are entirely your own master?"
+
+"Yes," answered Esperance, "I am free."
+
+"I have a favor to ask," said Goutran, after a minute's silence.
+
+"Ask it. You know every thing I have is yours."
+
+"Yes--another minute you would offer me millions."
+
+"No, I did not think of doing so. I am rich, I know, but it is not my
+fault. And I do not think it generous in you to reproach me with these
+millions."
+
+"I did not mean to offend you. If I needed money I would ask you for
+it."
+
+"Money! what is that? I should have only to fill out a check, you know.
+But ask me to fight for you, to be killed for you!"
+
+Goutran took the hand of the youth in his, and smilingly said:
+
+"Do you know, Esperance, the greatest sacrifice I can ask of you?"
+
+"Go on."
+
+"It would be to mount upon the imperial of an omnibus. Ah! you are
+astonished, and are asking yourself if I am not laughing at you, but I
+assure you that I am in solemn earnest. The truth is, Esperance, that
+you are not happy."
+
+"I assure you--"
+
+"No, you are not happy because you are hampered by conventionalities.
+You never were in an omnibus, I suppose?"
+
+"No, never."
+
+"When you wish to go out you ring the bell, and your carriage is brought
+round. If you go to the theatre a spacious _loge_ is in readiness for
+you. You go into society--you are received with smiles. Do you know that
+a life like that would be my death?"
+
+"Why do you talk thus to-day?" asked Esperance.
+
+"I can't tell you why. The words come of themselves, but they express my
+feelings precisely. You millionaires know nothing of life. You are like
+a drop of oil in a pitcher of water--you do not mingle with the rest of
+humanity, and you are bored!"
+
+Esperance was annoyed that his mood had been so readily divined.
+
+"But you have not told me what sacrifice you desired of me."
+
+"I did not say sacrifice--I said service."
+
+"Well, whichever it may be, I am ready."
+
+"Very good! You are certainly the best fellow in the world!"
+
+Here it must be mentioned that Esperance never drank wine. The table was
+supplied with several kinds, but, like his father, Esperance never
+touched them.
+
+Goutran poured some sherry into the glass of his friend.
+
+"I have come," he said, "to make a confession and ask a loan."
+
+He tossed off a glass of wine as he spoke. Esperance mechanically drank
+also.
+
+"This is my confession: I, Goutran, a painter, propose to give a
+_soirée_ to-morrow night."
+
+"You!"
+
+"Yes, neither more nor less, and I intend to add to this _soirée_ a
+ball."
+
+"In your atélier?"
+
+"Why not? It is not as large as the Square, to be sure, but it will be a
+success."
+
+"But what is the occasion of these festivities?"
+
+"Oh! thereby hangs a tale. A great Italian lord was, when I was in Rome,
+extremely kind to me. He treated me like a son. He has come to Paris,
+and I must do something for him and for other friends. He is immensely
+wealthy himself--not to be mentioned the same day with you, to be sure.
+I intend to kill two birds with one stone, and invite my friends to
+send their pictures on exhibition. I need your assistance, and I need
+some tapestries."
+
+Esperance listened attentively, and did not notice that Goutran had
+filled his glass with sherry again.
+
+"I want my studio to be magnificent on this occasion, and as we artists
+are not rich enough to buy oriental hangings, we are all going to our
+friends to borrow of them. You have treasures of this nature--will you
+lend them to me? And the great service was simply that you should lend
+me some of those marvelous Japanese hangings of yours."
+
+"I regret extremely that you ask such a trifle at my hands, and now beg
+that you will grant me one."
+
+"What is that?"
+
+"Will you give up the arrangement of the studio to me? I will send men
+and all my Smyrna and India stuff to-morrow morning, and they will do it
+all."
+
+"No, no! Do you think I would allow common upholsterers to touch your
+treasures! I wish to mount step-ladders in my shirt sleeves, with a big
+hammer in my hand, and put them up myself."
+
+And, as Esperance looked at him with troubled surprise, Goutran
+continued:
+
+"My dear friend, open your boxes for me, let me select what I want. We
+two will study the effects, and then I will carry off a bundle in my
+arms with joy and gratitude. By the way, I shall expect you at my
+_soirée_!"
+
+"Oh! you know that I always work in the evening."
+
+"What has that to do with it? You need not work unless you choose.
+Come--there will be ladies there!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLVII.
+
+JANE ZELD.
+
+
+A thoroughly artistic atmosphere was that of Sabrau's studio. There was
+not a picture nor a picture frame, a bronze nor a bit of china that did
+not attract attention. Uniformity had been carefully avoided--all tints,
+all forms, blended into one original whole.
+
+Goutran had arranged the place with his own hands for the fête, which,
+as Goutran said, had a double aim. He wished not only to return the
+princely hospitality he had received, but to make of the affair a
+private exhibition of the works of his young friends; he himself only
+hung his gipsy. Rachel Marstens, the great actress, assisted by Emma
+Bruges, consented to do the honors. Every artistic celebrity accepted
+his invitations. Even the critics came, and were amiable.
+
+Comte Velleni was among the earliest arrivals. He was a fine-looking old
+man, and extremely courteous to all the young artists, and as he was
+very wealthy, his compliments on their work excited many hopes. He was
+not alone. He was accompanied by his secretary, by whom the young
+painters were not favorably impressed. His eyes were deep-set under
+bushy eyebrows, his hair and beard were black as jet.
+
+"A bad looking fellow!" murmured one to another.
+
+The age of this individual was uncertain--he might have been fifty. A
+deep scar ran across one cheek. His expression was crafty, his eyes
+shifting, and he kept in the background.
+
+There was a little stir when Monsieur and Mademoiselle de Laisangy were
+announced, for that same morning the official journal of the empire had
+announced the opening of the Banque de Credit Imperial, with a capital
+of sixty million. Monsieur de Laisangy was the director of this new
+bank.
+
+Goutran advanced to meet this gentleman with an eagerness that would
+have marred the interest which we feel in him had it not been explained
+by the presence of the charming daughter of the banker, Carmen de
+Laisangy.
+
+Goutran had painted Carmen's portrait, which had excited much
+commendation at the Salon, to which fact was probably due the presence
+of the banker and his daughter at this _soirée_.
+
+Carmen had no mother, and she had been brought up somewhat in the
+American style, but as she was very beautiful and had committed none but
+the most trifling indiscretions, many things were overlooked in her
+which in other girls would not have been tolerated.
+
+The banker was an old man and excessively thin, he held himself with
+English stiffness; a muscular contraction affected his upper lip. He
+stood well at Court. He had, it was said, made large loans at the time
+of the _coup d'etat_ in '51, and Bonaparte's accomplices called him
+their friend.
+
+"I am deeply indebted to you, Mademoiselle," said Goutran, "for your
+acceptance of an invitation which I was almost afraid to send."
+
+Carmen was very pretty, as we have said. Her dress was cut very low, and
+revealed too much of an admirably modelled bust. Her manner was not that
+of a young girl, it was more assured. But she was charming.
+
+She laughed, and said, in reply, "You are my especial artist, you know,
+and history tells us that even queens visit their painters--"
+
+"For example, the Duchess of Ferrara!" said a young man to a friend, in
+a low voice. He had caught her words as he passed, and hazarded this
+allusion, somewhat too broad, perhaps, to the visit paid by the Duchess
+to Titian, when she was painted in the costume of mother Eve. He
+undoubtedly supposed that the young lady would not understand his
+remark, and yet it was plain that she with difficulty restrained a
+laugh.
+
+She led Goutran to the picture gallery. "I am told," she said, "that you
+have two great surprises for your guests, to-night."
+
+"Oh! no; only one. You have heard of Jane Zeld, that marvelous bird who
+has come to us from Finland, Lapland, or some other place--we will call
+it Russia?"
+
+"But I was told that she had refused to sing in Paris at
+present--declined even to go to Compiègne."
+
+"Yes, but for you," and Goutran bowed low, "I have obtained what was
+refused to an Emperor!"
+
+He pressed Carmen's arm against his own, as he spoke.
+
+The girl turned and looked him full in the face for a moment. "Take me
+to my father," she said.
+
+Was it fancy, or did she emphasize the two words, "my father," in an odd
+sort of way?
+
+As in silence he obeyed her request, which though brief, was by no means
+stern, a singular scene was taking place.
+
+Signor Fagiano, who talked little, was wandering about through the
+salons. Suddenly he found himself face to face with Monsieur de
+Laisangy.
+
+Signor Fagiano started back, and half covered his face with his hand,
+but in turning to make good his retreat, he half stumbled and fell.
+
+The banker instinctively extended his hand to assist him. Fagiano bowed
+low as he recovered himself, and went into another room.
+
+There was certainly nothing very remarkable in this incident, but Carmen
+started and instantly hastened to the side of the banker, who seemed
+calmly indifferent to what had taken place. Seeing this, her anxiety, if
+she felt any, was dissipated, and she began to talk to Goutran.
+
+At this moment the footman announced two names: "Mademoiselle Jane
+Zeld!" "The Vicomte de Monte-Cristo!"
+
+"You see, I did have two surprises for you," said Goutran.
+
+But suddenly he exclaimed, "My dear Monsieur de Laisangy, you are ill, I
+fear--"
+
+"No, no," stammered the banker, "but it is very warm here, and I will go
+out on the terrace a while, if you will permit me."
+
+He left his daughter, who seemed to attach little importance to this
+sudden indisposition of her father's.
+
+Goutran went forward to receive his new guests. A murmur of admiration
+greeted the lady--Jane Zeld, the cantatrice.
+
+She was tall and slender, and dressed in black tulle with crimson roses.
+She advanced with a smile on her lips. She was young, not more than
+twenty-two, with dark hair raised over her brow like a diadem and
+falling at the back of her head in loose braids. Her complexion was
+clear but pale, her eyes were almond-shaped with long lashes and had a
+singular fixity of expression.
+
+Who was she? No one knew. She had appeared on the stage of public life
+in a singular way. There had been a fire about two months before at one
+of the theatres, and a musical evening had been organized for the
+benefit of the victims.
+
+Society, which likes amusements and is willing to be benevolent at the
+same time, had responded to the appeal, and on the evening of the
+performance the hall was crowded. The principal attraction was the
+return to public life of a tenor, who had had a fit of the sulks and had
+deserted the stage. He had promised to sing with the Diva a celebrated
+duet. When the audience had assembled a message arrived at the theatre.
+The Diva was ill, or pretended to be so, and now, at the last moment,
+announced that it was impossible to appear.
+
+This was terrible. The tenor was implored to sing alone, but he
+positively refused, and the non-appearance of the two stars made the
+affair an utter fiasco. Artists and journalists, director and
+secretaries assembled in the _foyer_--all talked together in their
+excitement. The tenor, half lying on a couch, caressed his black beard,
+while he listened with nonchalance to the entreaties addressed to him.
+But the moment was rapidly approaching when the fatal announcement must
+be made to the audience.
+
+Presently a voice began to sing the jewel song from Faust. The singer
+was at the piano in the _foyer_, but was so enveloped in black lace that
+she could hardly be seen. Her voice was so good, her method so perfect,
+that every one listened in delight. Even the tenor, for he was a
+thorough musician, was completely carried away.
+
+The lady finished the song, then rising from her seat she stood leaning
+against the piano without the smallest embarrassment.
+
+The tenor went forward. "Madame," he said, "do you know the duet we were
+about to sing?"
+
+The singer reseated herself at the piano and playing a prelude, sang two
+or three bars with exquisite expression.
+
+"Madame," began the tenor.
+
+"Mademoiselle," corrected the lady, raising her vail.
+
+"You have a hundred times more talent than Mademoiselle X."
+
+"We will not talk of her, and she must always remain in ignorance of
+this defection of one of her greatest admirers."
+
+But the feeling against the prima donna was that day of excessive
+bitterness, and every one agreed with the tenor.
+
+"Will you sing with me?" asked the tenor.
+
+The lady answered, "As this fête is for charity, I cannot decline."
+
+The director then said:
+
+"We will express our thanks later, dear lady; please give me your name
+that I may make the announcement."
+
+The tenor lifted his head.
+
+"I will lead the lady on, and that is quite enough."
+
+When the public saw that the singer was not the celebrated X. they were
+for a moment confounded, but the tenor was the guaranty, he could not be
+mistaken. The duet began; never had the tenor sang so well.
+
+The unknown was a thorough artist. She looked like a statue of Passion,
+as she stood at the piano, and her triumph was so great that it was the
+talk of Paris for three days. But the strangest part of all was, that
+after receiving this ovation she disappeared. The reporters could not
+find her. Finally one of them, more indefatigable than the others,
+discovered her in a small hôtel on the Champs Elysées. Her name was
+inscribed as Jane Zeld, from Russia, and she was accompanied by an
+intendant named Maslenes.
+
+The reporter, armed with this information, proceeded to concoct a
+legend. She belonged, he said, to a great family in Russia. She had
+left her home "for reasons which the _Journal_ was not at liberty to
+reveal."
+
+For a fortnight, managers and directors were on the _qui vive_, but as a
+poetical personage of importance took this time to commit suicide, the
+name of Jane Zeld was gradually forgotten.
+
+When two days before his fête, Goutran received a perfumed note in which
+Jane offered to sing for him, he was charmed.
+
+The lady entered the room, followed at some little distance by
+Esperance, who had conquered his timidity and come. His father had
+bidden him "live," and the young man felt that he was in a measure
+obeying his order when he drove to Goutran's studio, where he arrived
+just in time to assist the fair stranger from her carriage.
+
+The horizon of Paris is so vast that there is always room for a new
+star. And Jane Zeld, even if she had not shrouded herself in so much
+mystery, and without a voice, would have been conspicuous for her
+beauty, which was of aristocratic delicacy. Her lips were like
+pomegranate flowers in their rich red. Her bust was discreetly vailed,
+her arms were beautifully rounded, firm and white, and terminated in
+exquisite hands.
+
+Goutran had begged Esperance to come to his fête. The Vicomte did so,
+and Goutran seemed to forget his presence. Only a few curious glances
+were turned upon him. All eyes were watching Jane who, too, seemed to
+forget the person who had so gallantly assisted her from her carriage.
+Every one was eager for an introduction to this queen of the evening,
+and when she went to the piano a great hush fell upon the room. She sang
+melodies, Slavonic airs, that had never before been heard in Paris, and
+then an aria of a great composer, and when she concluded there was
+immense applause.
+
+"Do you know," said a voice, in the ear of the host, "that you are a
+most eccentric person!"
+
+The painter colored deeply, for it was Carmen who spoke. Goutran had
+indeed behaved very strangely to her. He apologized in some confusion,
+his duties as host, his many interruptions, etc.
+
+"I forgive you," answered Carmen, "on one condition."
+
+"Any thing!"
+
+"Oh! I shall only ask a trifle. Can you spare me a few moments?"
+
+"Certainly."
+
+"Then give me your arm, and take me out on the terrace."
+
+"The terrace! How did you know that I had a terrace?" asked Goutran,
+astonished.
+
+"Pray do not be uneasy. I never visited your studio in your absence. I
+heard Monsieur Laisangy say, just now, that he would go to the terrace
+for a little fresh air."
+
+"Yes," said Goutran, "your father came one day to talk about your
+portrait, and I showed him the place which I dignify with the name of
+terrace. It is but a small square of zinc, on which a few sickly plants
+are withering. It was not worthy to be shown to my friends."
+
+"But you will make an exception in my favor?"
+
+"Most assuredly."
+
+They crossed the studio. Goutran started. He had seen Esperance leaning
+against a door, pale and absorbed in thought. The liquid strains of
+Jane's voice had reached him here, softer and sweeter than ever.
+
+"Will you allow me to present to you the Vicomte de Monte-Cristo?" asked
+Goutran.
+
+"Is he the son of the celebrated Count?" Carmen replied, looking at the
+young man with curiosity.
+
+"Precisely, and one of the best fellows in the world."
+
+"Is that the reason you let him stand there all by himself?" she asked
+with an _étourderie_ that did not seem quite natural.
+
+"It is my misfortune to-night," answered Goutran, "that I am forced to
+neglect all that is dear to me."
+
+Carmen did not reply, but again she turned and looked him full in the
+eyes.
+
+"Yes," she said presently, "introduce the young man, if you choose.
+Being both forgotten to-night, it is well that we should be together."
+
+Esperance looked up at this moment, and Goutran made him a signal.
+
+"Mademoiselle," said the host, "permit me to present to you the Vicomte
+de Monte-Cristo."
+
+Esperance bowed low.
+
+"I think I have never had the pleasure of meeting you before, Vicomte,"
+said Carmen.
+
+"Oh! Esperance is a workingman!" cried Goutran. "He disdains our worldly
+pleasures."
+
+Esperance protested with a gesture, but evidently his mind was
+elsewhere.
+
+"I rely on you, Mademoiselle, and on your charming friends," continued
+Goutran, "to cure this misanthrope of his bad habits!"
+
+Carmen, probably displeased at the indifference manifested by Esperance,
+now drew her host away.
+
+"What do you think of him?" asked Goutran.
+
+"He is good looking, certainly, but I cannot judge of his mind."
+
+"He is entirely upset of late. I have just taken his education in hand."
+
+Carmen seemed trying to recall something.
+
+"The Count of Monte-Cristo is the person who met with such a series of
+incredible adventures, and is named Edmond Dantès?" she asked.
+
+"Yes, you are right."
+
+"And tell me, if you can--excuse the question--if Monsieur de Laisangy
+had ever any relations with him?"
+
+"Ah! that I cannot say. Your father has not been in Paris for some
+years, and the Count has been here very little of late. But I can easily
+find out for you."
+
+"No, no--pray make no inquiries!" said Carmen, eagerly. "But the
+terrace--where is it?"
+
+"Here it is!" answered Goutran, raising a curtain.
+
+The apartment that Goutran occupied was on the second floor, and the
+terrace, of which he had spoken so slightingly, was draped with
+clematis, and commanded a beautiful view down the avenue to the Place de
+la Concorde.
+
+The evening was calm and the air delicious. Carmen certainly deserved to
+be called imprudent. She looked very lovely in the moonlight, and
+Goutran was young and passionately in love. Carmen still leaned on his
+arm. She murmured softly:
+
+"How delicious it is here!"
+
+He slipped his arm around her waist, and as she threw back her head to
+look up at the moon, Goutran leaned forward and kissed her. Let her who
+is without sin throw the first stone!
+
+At this precise moment a clear voice came from the garden below, and
+this voice said:
+
+"Do not be too anxious to learn my name, Monsieur de Laisangy."
+
+The two young people separated hastily. Carmen ran to the balustrade and
+looked over, but she could see nothing, and heard now only two angry
+voices disputing. Carmen went to the window, and opening it, said
+coldly:
+
+"We will go in, if you please!"
+
+As they entered the gallery, the Vicomte de Monte-Cristo hurried up to
+Goutran.
+
+"Come with me," he said, "I must see you at once!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLVIII.
+
+A THUNDER CLAP.
+
+
+Goutran was startled by the tone in which Esperance spoke. He hastened
+with Carmen to the music-room, and then returned to the Vicomte.
+
+"I have been very negligent," the artist said, penitently, "and I have a
+thousand apologies to make. And now, what may I do for you?"
+
+The Vicomte was very pale. He hesitated.
+
+"My friend," he said at last, "you have entire confidence in me, have
+you not?"
+
+"Most certainly. You have won both my esteem and affection."
+
+"And you think me incapable of falsehood?"
+
+"What a question!"
+
+"Then listen to me. I was standing in this spot just now--I had been
+listening to that girl's divine voice. You passed me and spoke to me,
+but I hardly knew what you said, when suddenly from behind that hanging
+came these words, distinctly pronounced:
+
+"Take care, son of Monte-Cristo, take care! You are walking into a snare
+laid for you. Take care!"
+
+"A snare! Who was it that spoke?"
+
+"I know not. I instantly drew aside the curtain, but there was no one
+there."
+
+"No one!" Goutran smiled. "But this is sorcery, my dear fellow. You
+must have been dreaming. It was, of course, some illusion."
+
+"Illusion!" repeated Esperance, impatiently, "I tell you that I heard
+the words distinctly."
+
+"Then it was some one who, seeing you buried in thought, played this
+wretched joke."
+
+"That may be, but there was a tone of sincerity in the voice that struck
+me."
+
+"But there is no sense in the words. A snare! Who could spread one for
+you in this house but myself? Now will you, in your turn, tell me if you
+have absolute faith in me? I have been anxious to coax you from your
+studies and your solitude, and I was glad when I saw you come in
+to-night. Now, my dear fellow, dismiss these fancies. Take my arm and
+make a plunge into the furnace!"
+
+Goutran laughed as he led the way toward the room where Jane Zeld had
+been singing.
+
+"Can the snare," continued Goutran, "be found in the delicious tones of
+that voice, which has moved you so deeply? Those eyes are wonderfully
+bright."
+
+Esperance found himself near the piano. Jane had risen, and was
+receiving the many compliments of her admirers. She saw Esperance, and
+as her eyes fell upon him, Goutran felt his companion start.
+
+"Suppose," he said, "that I present you to our star? Surely she will
+exorcise your dismal thoughts. Mademoiselle," he added, addressing Jane,
+"one of your most ardent admirers solicits the honor of being presented
+to you."
+
+The two--Jane and Esperance--were now face to face. Esperance, pale and
+silent, looked at Jane, while she stood waiting possibly for some words
+of praise.
+
+The crowd swept on, leaving these two persons almost alone, and at this
+moment a candle fell from one of the chandeliers upon the train of
+Jane's black tulle, and shrieks from all the women rent the air. Flames
+threatened to envelop Jane. With a rapidity that was quicker than
+thought, Esperance tore down one of the heavy Eastern portières, and
+wrapped it around the girl. He did this so skilfully that in a minute
+the flames were stifled, and Jane stood, pale but smiling, as if she
+hardly knew the danger she had been in. She was magnificent, enveloped
+in this mantle that looked like a royal robe.
+
+Having accomplished his work Esperance drew back, like a worshipper
+recoiling in terror after touching the goddess.
+
+At this moment a man made his way through the crowd. He was dressed in
+an old-fashioned livery. His face was large-featured and solemn, but now
+contracted with terror.
+
+"Are you hurt?" he cried, as he reached Jane. Two persons started on
+hearing this voice--one was Jane. She colored deeply, and in much
+agitation answered quickly:
+
+"No, my friend, I am not hurt. It was a slight accident, and this
+gentleman saved me."
+
+Esperance started, because he felt sure that this voice and the one that
+had addressed to him the strange words he had repeated to Goutran, was
+the same. The man turned and looked at the Count.
+
+"Who is this man who seems so interested in his friend?" asked some one.
+
+"Oh! he is the intendant--Master Jacques--who goes everywhere with Jane
+Zeld," answered the ever-present reporter, delighted to have an
+opportunity of displaying his erudition. "He is called Maslenes at the
+hôtel."
+
+Jane turned to Esperance:
+
+"Will you kindly add to your kindness by giving me your arm to my
+carriage?"
+
+While the crowd, who had by no means recovered from their agitation,
+complimented her on her courage, Jane moved slowly from the room.
+Goutran made no effort to detain her, though he knew very well that her
+departure would be the signal for a general move, as it was long after
+midnight.
+
+Esperance tried to speak, but he found it impossible to say a word to
+Jane. The intendant preceded them. It was plain to the most casual
+observer that he had by no means gotten over his terror. His feet were
+unsteady, and his hands trembled to that degree that he could hardly
+open the carriage door.
+
+"Once more let me thank you," said Jane, softly. "We shall meet again I
+trust."
+
+Esperance, almost as if in a dream, bowed over her extended hand, and
+pressed a kiss upon it. The hand trembled, but it was not withdrawn too
+hastily.
+
+Then Esperance saw nothing more--neither the intendant, who lingered as
+if to speak to him, nor the coachman as he gathered up the reins. He
+heard the rattle of wheels that bore Jane away, and laid his hand on
+his heart to quell the strange tumult there. He remained standing on the
+pavement, blind to the curious gaze of his servants.
+
+"Are you going home sir, now?" asked his own coachman.
+
+"Ah! what did you say?" Esperance aroused himself and looked around.
+"Yes, I wish to go home." He took a step to the carriage.
+
+"If you will wait a moment, sir, the footman will go for your hat."
+
+His hat! Esperance did not know that his head was uncovered. He was
+amazed at himself, he felt a certain sense of shame.
+
+"No," he replied, "I will go for it myself."
+
+He went back to Goutran's apartment. As he passed through the vestibule
+he heard a sarcastic laugh. He was of course mistaken, for only Goutran,
+with Carmen, were coming down the stairs--Monsieur de Laisangy, Comte
+Velleni, and his Secretary Fagiano.
+
+"You have behaved like a hero, Count!" cried Carmen, as soon as she saw
+him.
+
+Her father at this moment had a violent attack of coughing. Through it
+all he said:
+
+"You have done well, sir."
+
+Signor Fagiano said in clear, distinct tones:
+
+"The Vicomte is a worthy son of his father!"
+
+I know not why, but these words sounded disagreeably to Esperance, who
+turned quickly. But Fagiano was in the shadow, and Esperance saw only
+his eyes, which were very bright. The Vicomte began to think his nerves
+were sadly out of order.
+
+Goutran, when the door had closed on the last of his guests, turned to
+him and asked how he would like a little walk up the Champs-Elysées.
+
+"Very much," answered the Vicomte, "I need fresh air."
+
+He took his hat from the hands of a lacquey, and the two young men
+walked off together. Neither knew that Fagiano had not driven away with
+Comte Velleni, but that, standing in a dark doorway, he followed the
+Vicomte with his eyes. Hissing through his close shut teeth, he said:
+
+"Yes, worthy son of thy father, I swear that I will have my revenge!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLIX.
+
+HOW AND WHERE.
+
+
+As the reporter had discovered, Jane Zeld occupied an apartment on the
+first floor of a small hôtel, or rather, in one of those boarding-houses
+frequented by respectable people who come from the four quarters of the
+globe to enjoy the attractions of Paris. It was a most respectable
+establishment, with its iron gate _à l'Anglaise_, its well scrubbed
+steps, its parlor on the _rez de chaussée_, and its three floors above
+all occupied.
+
+The lady who managed this enterprise was the widow of a captain. She
+wore English curls, spoke a few words in various languages, and had a
+marvelous ability for making out long bills. Her prices were high, very
+high, but the situation of her house was at once elegant and retired. It
+was a wonder that these items were not entered on the bill. She had
+never admitted any artists into her sanctuary until the intendant
+Maslenes one day offered her five hundred francs for an apartment which
+she usually rented for three, and no single women. Now Jane Zeld seemed
+to be a single woman, but Madame closed her eyes to this, and now that
+she divined a star in the future, Madame Vollard redoubled her courtesy
+to her lodger. She felt that she was a mine of wealth in the future.
+That night Madame Vollard had insisted on dressing Jane herself, and
+she had excellent taste. She spent a number of hours dwelling on the
+undoubted success of "the dear child," and it was two o'clock when she
+heard the carriage. She ran down the stairs, and when she saw Jane and
+her remarkable costume, she raised her hands in astonishment.
+
+"You have had a pleasant time, I trust!" she exclaimed.
+
+Maslenes gently pushed her back.
+
+"Excuse me, Madame, but the young lady is fatigued, and somewhat ill, I
+fear."
+
+"Ill! What can I do for her? I have camphor, lavender water--what shall
+I get?"
+
+Maslenes led Jane hastily to her room, saying as he did so:
+
+"No, no, it is nothing. To-morrow will do. She only needs rest now."
+
+Jane sank into a chair on reaching her salon.
+
+Maslenes closed the door, and stood motionless and silent until she
+should see fit to speak.
+
+How old was this man? Sixty probably, and yet his face was unwrinkled
+although his hair was perfectly white. His eyes were gray. He inspired
+at first sight a certain repulsion. There were indications of vices, but
+they were of vices that had burned themselves out, of passions that had
+crumbled to ashes. Now, as he stood with his arms folded on his breast,
+his face expressed something more than the interest of a servant in his
+mistress. In his faded eyes there was great compassion. His pale lips
+trembled. Jane did not speak. He said gently:
+
+"You are suffering?"
+
+She started as if from sleep.
+
+"No," she replied, "no. I did not know." Then she looked up. "Ah!" she
+said, "why did you drag me among these people? I will never go anywhere
+again. No, never!"
+
+The man bit his lips. "And yet," he said, "you were received like a
+queen!"
+
+"Why do you say that?" she asked, in a tone of great irritation. "Why do
+you try to awaken in me thoughts which should never be mine? A queen!
+I!"
+
+"But your talent--your voice?"
+
+"What of them? Ah! leave me. I wish to be alone!"
+
+She spoke with some harshness.
+
+He answered sadly enough.
+
+"I am always willing to obey you, Jane. Do not speak in that tone."
+
+"Yes, I know that. Forgive me if I am cruel. Alas! You know what agony I
+hide within my breast." She rose to her feet as she spoke. "Why," she
+cried, "why did not that fire burn me to death? I should have suffered
+less than from this flame which devours my heart!"
+
+She leaned her head against the wall, and burst into passionate weeping.
+
+Maslenes, too, had tears in his eyes. It was plain that he cherished a
+mysterious affection for this beautiful woman, who was tortured by some
+secret sorrow.
+
+"Jane,--Miss Jane," he corrected himself quickly. "I have never seen
+you like this before. Some one must have insulted you!"
+
+His eyes flashed as he said this.
+
+"No," murmured Jane. "No, nothing of the kind."
+
+"Then you are over-excited by this accident. Pray, try and control
+yourself. I know that there are sad thoughts, which you cannot drive
+from your mind, but you are young; you have the future before you, you
+will forget the past. You must!"
+
+Jane dried her tears with her lace handkerchief, and her face became
+suddenly calm.
+
+"Yes, I will forget," she replied, firmly. "You are right, I must do so.
+Forgive me!"
+
+She extended her hand.
+
+He hesitated and, drawing back, replied:
+
+"We will talk together to-morrow. You know that you may rely on me."
+
+"Yes, and I am very weary."
+
+The intendant left the room. When outside the room, he caught at the
+railing, and with almost a sob, exclaimed: "How miserable I am!"
+
+"Well!" asked Madame, from the foot of the stairs, "is the poor child
+any better?"
+
+"Yes, thank you. There was an accident; her dress took fire."
+
+"What a pity! A new dress, too. But I can offer her another in its
+place--one that has just come into my hands."
+
+"You can talk with her about it to-morrow. At present I am worn out."
+
+He hurried to his room, which was in the attic under the eaves,
+furnished with the most excessive simplicity: an iron bedstead, a table,
+and one chair. A trunk with a large lock upon it was also in the room.
+
+Maslenes locked the door, and then dropped on the one chair the place
+contained. He sat for some minutes buried in thought.
+
+"What am I to do? What am I to do?"
+
+Then he rose, and opened the trunk of which we have spoken, with a key
+that he took from his pocket. He took out a bag, and a portfolio. He
+tried the weight of the bag and shrugged his shoulders. He then loosened
+the cord that held the bag together, and produced ten louis, at which he
+looked sadly. The portfolio contained three bank notes of one hundred
+francs each.
+
+"And in two days I have five hundred francs to pay, and afterward what
+is to become of us?"
+
+Then a long silence broken by the words once more, "Oh! how miserable I
+am!" He paced his room like a prisoner in his cell.
+
+"What am I to do? I am afraid to try anything. I might, to be sure, earn
+a crust of bread for myself, but what is to become of her? Poor Jane!
+and yet I would give my very life to spare her one pang. If she pleased
+she might, with her talent, be as rich as a queen, but she cannot forget
+the past, and that is my work!"
+
+He counted the louis over and over again. Suddenly he started. It seemed
+to him that he heard a sound without; he threw the bag and the
+portfolio into the trunk and locked it, then rushed to the door. On
+opening it there was no one to be seen.
+
+"Is there any one here?" he asked.
+
+There was no reply.
+
+"I was mistaken, of course."
+
+He returned to his room and there found that the sounds were repeated,
+and came from the window. He went to it, and looking out saw the
+outlines of a human being. No robber would have attracted attention
+thus. Nevertheless Maslenes took down a revolver before he opened the
+window.
+
+"Who is there?" he asked.
+
+"Some one who wishes to speak to you!" And with these words the person
+jumped into the room.
+
+Maslenes raised his revolver, but at this moment the light fell on the
+face of the unknown. He uttered a cry of horror.
+
+"You here! Ah! leave me, leave me at once, or I swear that I will blow
+out your brains."
+
+"No, sir, you will do nothing of the kind. It would be very inconvenient
+for you to find yourself with a dead body to get rid of. You would be
+obliged to give your name, and you certainly don't care for the police
+to put their nose into your affairs."
+
+And as the intendant did not reply, the new comer continued:
+
+"That is right! You are becoming reasonable, I see. It is really droll
+that we should meet again after all these years in this way!"
+
+He seated himself, and drawing out a cigar, lighted it at the candle.
+
+"Now listen to me," said Maslenes. "Why are you here? Go your way, and
+let me go mine. I am doing my best to repair the evil that I have
+committed in my life. I do not interfere with you, and I only ask that
+you shall leave me alone. You call yourself Fagiano, and my name is
+Maslenes. Now, go."
+
+The other sneered:
+
+"You have become very haughty, convict Sanselme."
+
+Sanselme, for he it was, uttered an angry exclamation:
+
+"And you, Benedetto, are still the same scoundrel that you were!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER L.
+
+CATASTROPHES.
+
+
+The two men started to their feet, looking at each other as they had
+looked when Fate and their crimes first brought them together. Yes, it
+was Sanselme, who had simply changed the letters in his name and become
+Maslenes, who now spoke to his former associate with such contempt.
+
+And it was Benedetto who sneered and laughed in the face of the man whom
+at Toulon he had almost hated. They neither of them spoke, but in their
+faces a strange transformation took place. Sanselme, first so bold,
+almost arrogant, by degrees began to hang his head, while Benedetto
+looked more and more triumphant.
+
+"Let us sit down and reason together," he said.
+
+"And why?" answered Sanselme, drearily. "You and I have nothing in
+common."
+
+"I don't know that!"
+
+"Listen to me for one moment. Our respective positions must be
+distinctly defined. Fate brought us together--Fate separated us. Neither
+you nor I desire to awaken all these terrible memories. I now bid you
+forget my very existence--"
+
+He stopped short. Benedetto had laid his hand on his shoulder.
+
+"And suppose I do not wish to be forgotten by you?" he said, slowly.
+
+Sanselme started and looked at him with a terrified expression.
+
+"I desire quite the contrary, in fact. I wish you to recall every
+circumstance of our former acquaintance, up to that night at Beausset--"
+
+"For Heaven's sake, say no more!"
+
+"I must, for I need a witness to authenticate certain facts. And that
+witness must be yourself."
+
+"You forget, I fancy, that were I to reveal the truth the scaffold would
+be your end!"
+
+"Ah! that is my affair, Sanselme. You have but to answer my questions
+truly. I rely on you, for really," sneered Benedetto, "you have quite
+the air of an honest man. You remember. Do you remember the night of the
+24th of February, 1839?"
+
+"Am I dreaming?" murmured Sanselme, hiding his face. "Can he really ask
+such a question?"
+
+"Do you remember the little house behind the church?"
+
+"Yes, yes, I remember."
+
+"A certain person of my acquaintance had a little business to attend to
+in that house. He was successful, and he carried off a million."
+
+"I know nothing about that!" cried Sanselme, eagerly. And then with a
+gesture of loathing, he added, "I never saw any of the money."
+
+"I dare say. You were extremely disinterested! I took the money and
+meant to get away with it quietly, but accident defeated this plan."
+
+"For God's sake, say no more! Have you a heart?"
+
+Benedetto shrugged his shoulders, and continued:
+
+"You know I heard two persons come up the stairs. I hid behind the door
+with my knife, and when the door opened, I struck at the first person I
+saw--"
+
+"And it was your mother!"
+
+"Ah! I see your memory is returning. Yes, it was my mother; but how did
+you know it?"
+
+"I had seen her in the gorge, and she had told me her story and implored
+me to save her son."
+
+"And did she tell you her name?" asked Benedetto, with some uneasiness.
+
+"She told me all, but I swore never to reveal it to any one."
+
+"And she believed in the oath of a convict?"
+
+"I have kept it, at all events."
+
+"You are a hero! But you can, at least, tell me the name."
+
+"No," answered Sanselme, with energy. "You are planning some new
+villainy. I shall not tell you!"
+
+Benedetto laughed.
+
+"You must think me very simple. I merely wished to test your memory. The
+name of this woman was Danglars."
+
+Sanselme uttered an exclamation. He had hoped that his refusal would
+frustrate some nefarious design.
+
+"Now go," he said, sadly. "You can have nothing more to say to me."
+
+"You are mistaken! One would think that you did not care to see me."
+
+"The truth is, Benedetto, that anything connected with the past is
+hideously painful to me. I wish to forget."
+
+"You wish to forget, too, that you once tried to kill me."
+
+"Let us say no more about that. Tell me frankly what you want me to do,
+and if possible I will do it."
+
+"You are becoming more reasonable, Sanselme. But what is that new life
+of which you speak so glibly and with a certain tenderness in your
+voice? Perhaps I can guess. She is pretty, that is a fact!"
+
+Sanselme started and took hold of Benedetto's arm.
+
+"Not another word like that, Benedetto! Not if you wish to live!"
+
+"Indeed! What would you do?"
+
+"My fate is in your hands," answered Sanselme. "You can at any moment
+denounce me as an escaped convict. Do what you please, but you shall not
+say one word of her who is in this house."
+
+"Upon my word, Sanselme, it seems to me that you carry matters with
+rather a high hand. Suppose I do not obey you?"
+
+"Then I will denounce you, with the certainty that my arrest will follow
+yours. You may laugh when I say that in spite of my shameful past I am
+to-day an honest man, devoting my whole life to a creature who has no
+one but myself in the world. If she knew who I was she would despise
+me."
+
+Benedetto listened with his maddening smile. Suddenly he said:
+
+"Have you pen, ink and paper?"
+
+"Yes, I have them. Why?"
+
+"Produce them. I will give my reasons later."
+
+Sanselme produced what was required.
+
+"Very good," said Benedetto. "And now take this pen and oblige me by
+writing a few lines."
+
+"What shall I write?"
+
+"I will dictate to you, that will be easier.
+
+"On the 24th of February, 1839, Benedetto, an escaped convict from
+Toulon, assassinated Madame Danglars, his mother."
+
+"But this is horrible! No, I will not write that!"
+
+"You had better do it without further objections. You can sign any name
+you please."
+
+Sanselme still hesitated.
+
+"No," he said, finally, "I refuse. I of course do not know what use you
+intend to make of this paper, but I know you. Some infamous machination
+is on foot which I will not aid."
+
+Benedetto smiled.
+
+"You are far from rich," he said, "for I was at the window some little
+time before I knocked. I must tell you that Comte Velleni's hôtel is
+next this, and I had not the smallest difficulty in coming here."
+
+Sanselme glanced at the trunk that contained his scanty means.
+
+"Precisely," said Benedetto, "a few louis and two or three bits of
+paper."
+
+"I ask nothing from you."
+
+"But I offer these." And Benedetto took from an elegant portfolio ten
+bank notes of one thousand francs each, and spread them out on the bed.
+"Write what I bid you and this money is yours."
+
+Sanselme turned very pale. It seemed as if Benedetto was his evil
+genius--his tempter. He instantly realized what this sum would do for
+her whose welfare was his perpetual anxiety.
+
+"Will you write?"
+
+Sanselme dipped his pen into the ink and began. Some instinct warned him
+that he was doing wrong. He acted without volition of his own, and
+simply in obedience to another, it is true, and it seemed to him that he
+himself risked nothing, for he simply told the truth, and yet he was
+troubled. Had Sanselme been alone in the world with no one but himself
+to care for he might not have been so strict, for he had run many risks
+in his life. But he felt that this was something wrong, and that evil
+consequences would alight on not only himself, but her. The money
+fascinated him, however. He wrote a few words, and then, dashing down
+the pen, started up.
+
+"No, I will not write. Take away your money, Benedetto, it will bring me
+misfortune."
+
+Benedetto uttered a furious oath. Then seizing a pen he himself wrote a
+couple of lines. Laying the paper before Sanselme, he said, "You will
+write just what I say, or I will send this!"
+
+The two lines commenced thus: "She who bears the name of Jane Zeld,
+is--"
+
+Sanselme read no more. With a cry of rage he sprang at Benedetto, who
+thrust him back fiercely.
+
+"No more of this nonsense!" he said. "Either you write, or I do, and my
+words shall appear in three of the most prominent Parisian journals."
+
+Sanselme, with haggard eyes, did not seem to hear. Then suddenly he
+seized the pen and wrote what Benedetto required.
+
+"If I give you this paper," he said, hoarsely, "will you swear by--good
+heavens! He believes in nothing! What will he swear by?"
+
+"My dear fellow, I have not the smallest interest in troubling your
+repose. This is better than any oath," said Benedetto.
+
+Sanselme made no further resistance.
+
+Benedetto looked at the paper. "The fool has signed his own name!" he
+said to himself. "But it may be better, after all!" And in another
+moment Benedetto vanished through the window.
+
+Sanselme sat motionless for some time, then his wandering eyes fell on
+the bank-notes. He snatched them up.
+
+"We must fly!" he said aloud. "He knows all, and there is not a moment
+to lose. Jane--my Jane! Yes, she will consent, I am sure. We will take
+the seven o'clock train to Havre, and then will go to America. There she
+will lead a new life!" He looked around the room.
+
+"My baggage," he said to himself, "will not be much of a hindrance; but
+Jane must be aroused at once. What shall I say to her? What reason shall
+I give? Pshaw! she will require none. Besides, there is nothing to keep
+us in Paris."
+
+With infinite caution he opened the door and stole down the stairs,
+feeling his way along the corridor in the darkness, until he reached
+Jane's door, which he found open.
+
+Sanselme was aghast. The chamber was empty.
+
+Sanselme, with a frightful imprecation, rushed down stairs; the street
+door was open. Half mad, Sanselme went out into the street.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LI.
+
+A SHOT FROM A REVOLVER.
+
+
+Goutran and Esperance went out together from the little hôtel in the
+avenue Montaugne. Slowly and without talking they walked on side by
+side. The moon had gone down; it was one of those soft, starry nights
+which are so delicious. The Champs Elysées was deserted.
+
+Suddenly Goutran exclaimed, "It is best to go on with it, I am sure!"
+
+Esperance looked at his friend in surprise. "What are you saying?" he
+asked.
+
+Goutran laughed. "I was only thinking aloud," he said. "The fact is, I
+am attempting to decide upon an important question. To marry, or not to
+marry. What do you say?"
+
+"I know so little of life that I can give no advice," answered
+Esperance, "and yet," he continued, "it seems to me that no happiness
+can be so great as to spend your life in the companionship of one who
+will share your joys and your sorrows."
+
+"Then you advise me to marry?"
+
+"If the woman is worthy of you."
+
+Goutran had begun this conversation in a gay, familiar tone, but the
+gravity of Esperance influenced him, and he continued more seriously, "I
+wished to consult you, because I knew you to be a man who weighed such
+matters seriously. You noticed a young lady, to-night--but what is the
+matter?"
+
+Esperance had started. "It is nothing, my foot slipped. And this young
+lady?"
+
+"The pretty blonde is the one I mean."
+
+"Oh!" answered Esperance, with a sigh of relief, "I congratulate you,
+most warmly. You love her?"
+
+"I hardly know. I am attracted by her, I admire her beauty, the
+brilliancy of her eyes, her figure and her manner. Is this love?"
+
+"I have no experience in such matters, you know."
+
+"But you have instinct, which is worth ten times as much as experience.
+Carmen is an adorable creature, and when I am with her I can think of no
+one else. Twenty times this evening the decisive words were on my lips."
+
+"And why did you not speak?"
+
+"Ah! that is as much of a mystery to me as to you. A strange reluctance
+kept me back--almost a presentiment of evil. Do you know what I mean?"
+
+"I understand that. I have felt the same thing at times."
+
+"But to return to Carmen. Whenever I think of asking her to marry me, I
+feel as if I were deliberately inviting misfortune."
+
+"You are not well, perhaps?"
+
+"Bless my soul! How reasonable you are! No, I am well, I am greatly in
+love, and yet--"
+
+"Upon my word!" said the Vicomte, "I can't see what you expect me to
+say."
+
+"I have not told you all, and I have an admission to make that is not
+altogether agreeable. The truth is, I was so carried away by Carmen's
+beauty, that--"
+
+"You became engaged to her?"
+
+"I kissed her, my friend, and I was not repulsed nor reproved. She
+considered the kiss given to her fiancé. And now, shall I marry her? I
+tell you, that even when my lips met hers, I felt more sharply than ever
+the presentiment of which I spoke. I know that after what has taken
+place I ought to apply to her father for her hand. Why do I hesitate? I
+cannot tell."
+
+"Does Monsieur de Laisangy inspire you with absolute confidence?" asked
+Esperance, after a long pause.
+
+The two friends had passed the Arc de Triomphe by this time, and entered
+the dark shadows of the Bois.
+
+"Monsieur de Laisangy seems to have an excellent reputation. Bankers are
+measured by a standard of their own, and public opinion is never very
+strict in regard to them. Monsieur de Laisangy is rich, but no one says
+he has made his money dishonestly. I know nothing of his past, but have
+never heard a whisper against him, and yet sometimes he inspires me with
+absolute repulsion."
+
+"My dear Goutran," said Esperance, in that grave, steady voice, which
+was so like his father's, "I am very young, I know nothing of life, I
+have never loved, but it seems to me that I could not speak as you have
+done, if I felt sincerely or deeply. I do not think I could analyze my
+ambitions so artistically." Esperance now began to speak more rapidly
+and with emotion. "To love is to give up one's entire being, to live in
+another. You say that you love, that your lips have touched those of
+whom you have chosen, and that your heart sank at that same moment. No,
+you do not love Carmen de Laisangy!"
+
+At this moment both men heard the report of a pistol.
+
+"What is that?" cried Goutran.
+
+"Some crime, I fear," answered his companion.
+
+The two friends forced their way through the underbrush, Esperance a
+little in advance. Suddenly he beheld in an open space a prostrate form.
+It was that of a woman. Esperance rushed forward and lifted her from the
+ground. He uttered a hoarse cry. It was she whose life he had so
+recently saved--it was Jane Zeld. A small revolver lay at her side.
+
+Esperance, bearing her in his vigorous arms, made his way into the
+road.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LII.
+
+"WILL JANE ZELD LIVE?"
+
+
+Goutran had not seen the face of the burthen borne by Esperance, who had
+uttered no name, and whose movements had been so rapid that Goutran had
+some difficulty in overtaking him.
+
+Where did Esperance propose to go? He had not asked himself this
+question. Goutran ran after him.
+
+"Where are you carrying that dead body?" he shouted.
+
+Esperance stopped short. "Was she dead?" he asked himself. "No, no," he
+cried, "she lives--she breathes! She must not die!"
+
+"Do you know this woman?" asked Goutran. Suddenly he started back.
+
+Jane was still wrapped in the oriental stuff. He remembered the
+material.
+
+"Good heavens!" he cried, "what does this mean? It is Jane!"
+
+They reached the avenue, and looked about for a carriage, but none was
+to be seen.
+
+"Where are we to take this poor thing?" said Goutran.
+
+"To my rooms," answered Esperance. "But I am afraid she will die in my
+arms!"
+
+"I will hasten on and arouse the servants, and have everything
+prepared."
+
+"Yes, by all means. I am strong, and shall be there almost as soon as
+yourself."
+
+In a very few minutes they reached the hôtel, which Goutran opened with
+a key given him by Esperance. They entered the corridor that led to the
+rooms formerly occupied by Haydée.
+
+Esperance, with infinite precautions, laid Jane on the bed.
+
+The girl's hair had fallen loose, and its darkness made an admirable
+background for her delicate features.
+
+When Esperance saw this frail form thus inert, and the blue-veined lids
+closing the eyes, he yielded to his emotion and sobbed like a child. He
+was very unlike his father, and in these few moments he probably
+suffered more than his father had ever done.
+
+Goutran, in the meantime, had lighted the room, then coming to the side
+of the bed, he leaned over the girl.
+
+"Esperance!" he said, "rouse yourself, if you wish to save her!"
+
+With a violent effort Esperance resumed his self-control.
+
+"Ah! you are right, my friend. But if Jane is dead, I shall die also,
+for I love her--I love her!"
+
+And he uttered these words in a tone of such sincerity that Goutran
+understood the whole.
+
+"We must see the wound," continued Esperance, "for I am something of a
+physician."
+
+Goutran gently removed the shawl, and on the left bosom there was a
+small, dark spot. Esperance listened for the beating of her heart. There
+was a moment of terrible suspense. At last Esperance rose from his
+knees.
+
+"She is living," he said, in a grave voice. "Goutran, go to my room and
+bring me a small sandal-wood case on the chimney-piece."
+
+Esperance spoke now with absolute calmness. He was himself once more.
+When alone with Jane he took her head in his hands.
+
+"Why," he said in his low, harmonious tone, "why did you wish to die?
+You shall live, Jane, and nothing shall ever separate us more!"
+
+He pressed his lips to Jane's. This kiss was an oath. Would Esperance
+keep it?
+
+Goutran returned with the case.
+
+"Shall I not call some one?" asked the young man.
+
+"No, not yet," Esperance replied.
+
+He opened the box and took out an instrument.
+
+"My hand does not tremble, does it?"
+
+"No," said the painter, "it is perfectly firm."
+
+Then, entirely master of himself though deadly pale, Esperance probed
+the wound.
+
+Goutran watched every movement and studied his face. It was a strange
+scene. Jane, with her fair bosom all uncovered, seemed to sleep.
+
+"Goutran," said Esperance in a whisper, "the ball has not gone far--I
+can touch it! Give me the case again," he said presently. He selected
+other instruments. "I have it!" exclaimed Esperance, and the ball was
+in his hand.
+
+As he spoke the kind face of Madame Caraman appeared at the door. For
+the last twenty minutes she had heard footsteps over her head in the
+room of the deceased Countess, which no one ever entered except the
+Count, and now she beheld a stranger on the bed in this sacred room.
+
+"Madame Caraman," said Esperance, "here is a lady accidentally wounded.
+I beg of you to take care of her--do all that her condition requires."
+
+"Poor soul!" cried the good woman. "What does it all mean?"
+
+"I am just about to dress the wound. Do not be frightened. One word,
+however--I do not wish any one to know that she is here. You will treat
+her as if she were my sister."
+
+"Of course, sir, of course, but am I to say nothing to the Count?"
+
+"He is away, I know not where. I desire the secret to be kept
+punctiliously."
+
+"Yes, sir, on one condition."
+
+"A condition? And what may that be?"
+
+"It is that, like your father, you will call me Mamma Caraman--not
+Madame!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LIII.
+
+JANE ZELD'S SECRET.
+
+
+Sanselme rushed from the Maison Vollard. He seemed half wild with grief
+and rage. Where was he going? He knew not. Jane had gone without a word
+of farewell, and this man, whom we have seen unmoved amid all the
+horrors of Toulon, now wept as he ran. Whom should he ask? Two policemen
+passed, and, great as was Sanselme's terror of the police, he went up to
+them at once. Having by this time recovered his composure, he questioned
+them calmly. He was waiting for a lady, he was her intendant. As she was
+a foreigner, he was afraid she had gone astray.
+
+One of the men replied, in a surly tone:
+
+"If the lady has servants, how is it that she is out alone and on foot?"
+
+To this natural remark Sanselme had no reply ready. He had been guilty
+of a great folly. He realized this now, and felt sure that he would be
+watched. Jane had no acquaintances in Paris. She had been out but twice,
+once to the charitable fête, when she sang and met with such success,
+and the second time was that same night.
+
+Sanselme asked if Jane's mind could be affected. Could insanity come on
+thus suddenly? There was a secret in Jane's life, and he himself had
+seen her only a few hours before overcome with grief.
+
+Sanselme went up and down the Champs Elysées for an hour. Suddenly he
+remembered that the Seine was not far off. Why had he not thought of
+this before? He hastened to the river side, but saw nothing to confirm
+his suspicions.
+
+We will now disclose the secret tie between this man and Jane Zeld.
+Fifteen years before, the convict Sanselme had witnessed a terrible
+scene in a cottage at Beausset, a village between Toulon and Marseilles.
+A son had killed his mother, and then departed, carrying with him a
+large sum of money. Bad as was Sanselme, he shuddered at this terrible
+crime. He had aided in Benedetto's escape with the hope of receiving
+part of the money, but he repulsed the blood-stained hand that offered
+it.
+
+"Be off with you or I will kill you!" he cried, and Benedetto fled. Our
+readers will remember how he was finally thrown up by the sea on the
+island of Monte-Cristo.
+
+Sanselme remained alone with the corpse. The sun rose, and finally a ray
+crept over the face of the dead woman. Sanselme started. Perhaps she is
+not dead after all. He stooped and lifted her from the floor. Should he
+call for assistance? To do so was to deliver himself up as an escaped
+convict. And this was not all. He would be suspected of the murder. He
+would be led not to the galleys but to the scaffold.
+
+"It would be useless for me to make any denial."
+
+Still his humanity was large enough to induce him to run the risk, and
+he would probably have called for assistance had he not at that moment
+heard the sound of wheels. It was the priest returning home. Sanselme
+breathed a sigh of relief. Now he would have the aid he required. He
+would wait until the priest came up. The outer door stood wide open. It
+was through this door that Benedetto had fled. Sanselme heard the priest
+utter an exclamation of surprise, and then he went to his servant's
+door, and knowing her deafness knocked and called loudly to her to
+awake. This was Sanselme's salvation. He leaned from the window and
+caught a branch from the tree by which Benedetto had clambered to the
+upper room. This done, it was easy for Sanselme then to drop to the
+ground. He ran around the house instantly. He was saved. He hastily
+decided that Benedetto had taken the shortest road to the sea, and that
+he himself would try to get out of France by the eastern frontier.
+
+We will not dwell on all he endured. But a month later, Sanselme,
+completely changed in appearance, entered Switzerland, going thence to
+Germany. Intelligent and active, he had no difficulty in obtaining
+employment. And Benedetto's crime seemed to have had a marvelous effect
+upon him. He seemed resolved upon repentance. For ten years, utilizing
+his acquaintance with foreign languages, Maslenes--he had taken this
+name--lived quietly in Munich. Not the smallest indiscretion on his part
+attracted the attention of the police. He was almost happy with these
+children about him, his pupils; but he was alone in his so-called home,
+and all at once a great longing came over him to see France once more.
+He was well aware that it would be a great imprudence on his part to
+return to his native land; he might be recognized, or some chance might
+reveal his past.
+
+Nevertheless, he went. Ten years had elapsed since he crossed the
+frontier. He went first to Lyons, not daring to attempt Paris, although
+he chose a large city, believing that there he would incur less risk of
+being recognized. He had saved some money, and thought he could teach
+again. He had not been six months in Lyons before he was known as the
+good Monsieur Maslenes, and was liked by every one. He led the most
+regular life that could be imagined, and no one would have suspected
+that this stout, placid-looking person could be an escaped convict. He
+fully intended to live and die thus in obscurity, and really enjoyed the
+torpor of this existence. In the evening he took long walks, and from
+motives of prudence went out but little by daylight. Alone in the
+darkness, he often felt intense remorse, and remorse is not a pleasing
+companion.
+
+One winter's night--the snow had been falling all day--Sanselme stayed
+out later than usual. The cold was sharp and there was no moon. Suddenly
+he heard an angry discussion across the street. Coarse voices and then a
+woman's tone of appeal. Sanselme did not linger, he had made it a rule
+never to interfere in quarrels. He feared any complication which should
+compromise him. But as he hurried on, he heard a wild cry for help.
+
+"Oh! leave my child!" the woman cried. "Help! Help!"
+
+Sanselme forgot all his prudence and ran in the direction of the cries.
+He found a woman struggling with three drunken men, trying to tear from
+them a young girl about thirteen, simply dressed. The girl was
+struggling, but oddly enough she did not utter a sound.
+
+"Don't put on these airs, Zelda," said one of the ruffians, "let the
+little girl have a fling too. You have had yours."
+
+In her struggle the girl dropped a box she carried. Tulles and laces
+were scattered over the ground. She saw Sanselme, and then for the first
+time she screamed for help. Then with one blow Sanselme felled the man
+who held the girl. He fell stunned to the ground. The child was free,
+and the two remaining scoundrels turned their attention to the defender.
+They were stout, strong fellows, with well-developed muscles, but they
+were no match for Sanselme. He hurled one against the wall and the other
+into the middle of the street.
+
+"Be off with you!" said Sanselme.
+
+"Oh! thank you, sir. But my mother, my poor mother!"
+
+The woman had sunk upon the snow exhausted. The girl endeavored to lift
+her.
+
+"Let me," said Sanselme. "Do you live far from here?"
+
+This question, though so simple, seemed to agitate the girl. Sanselme
+now held her mother in his arms.
+
+"Well! Where am I to go?"
+
+She answered slowly:
+
+"Two steps from there. The Rue Travehefoin."
+
+"I don't think I know the street."
+
+"Very possibly," stammered the girl. "I will show you the way."
+
+She had returned the laces to the box, and then with a determined step
+led the way. A few feet from the Quai, where this scene had taken place,
+there was at this time a network of narrow, dark and wretched streets.
+It was in fact regarded as the worst part of the town. Sanselme did not
+care for this. He was happy that he had done some good at last. The girl
+turned into a lane that was very dark, in spite of the street lamp
+burning at the further end. The girl finally stopped before a tall
+house, from which came shouts of laughter and singing. The door was not
+close shut and the girl pushed it open. A stout woman stood just within.
+
+"Upon my word!" she cried. "Did Zelda need two hours to--"
+
+"My mother is dying," said the child, as she held the door wide open.
+
+Sanselme appeared, carrying the inanimate form.
+
+"Drunk again!" cried the stout woman.
+
+"This woman is ill," answered Sanselme, roughly, who now understood the
+kind of a place he was in. "Get out of my way!" he added.
+
+"Ill! Oh! what stuff. Come on, though. I will see to this to-morrow!"
+
+And she took down a lantern from the wall and led the way up the
+creaking stairs. Two or three men came out of the lower room at the same
+moment.
+
+"Is that Zelda?" they shouted. "Send her here to sing for us."
+
+But the stout woman opened a door and Sanselme laid his burden on the
+bed. It was a sordid room in which he found himself. On the dirty walls
+hung some colored prints of doubtful propriety. On one was a dark stain,
+as if a glass of wine had been thrown upon it.
+
+"Let me take off the quilt," said the woman, extending her hand to
+remove the ragged covering on the bed.
+
+Sanselme, filled with disgust at her cupidity, answered:
+
+"Let everything alone. I will pay whatever is necessary."
+
+"Very good, sir; if you answer for it, that's all right."
+
+"And now I want a physician," he added.
+
+"A physician! Oh, that is nonsense. You must not be taken in in this
+way. She goes out every evening for her daughter, who is apprenticed to
+a milliner, and this time she took a drop too much, that is all!"
+
+A bitter sob was heard from the girl, who sat with her hands covering
+her face.
+
+Sanselme pitied the poor child. He took a twenty franc piece from his
+pocket.
+
+"I want a doctor," he said, "and pray make haste."
+
+"Very good, sir, since I see you are willing to pay him, and that it
+won't be left for me to do."
+
+Sanselme was left alone with these two women. He was greatly annoyed
+that accident had brought him to such a house, and was half tempted to
+fly. He had done his duty and had defended the two women from their
+assailants. What more had he to do here?
+
+The merest trifle would compromise his position, for Lyons, though a
+large city, is but a village; every trifle becomes known, and is
+commented upon and exaggerated.
+
+He stood twisting his hat in his hands. Presently, with an air of
+decision, he tossed it on a chair.
+
+"It won't do to be cowardly!" he said, half aloud.
+
+This man, who had been so vicious, was now eager to do good. He must see
+the physician. But could he do nothing while awaiting his arrival?
+Whatever were the errors of this poor creature, she was a woman, and
+suffering. He did not know what she required. He turned to the girl.
+
+"Mademoiselle!" he said, making his voice as gentle and paternal as
+possible.
+
+She looked up, and for the first time he saw her. She was absolutely
+adorable, with her glossy, dark hair carried back plainly from her fair
+brow. How old was she? Sixteen, perhaps, but so slender that she looked
+younger.
+
+"You must unfasten your mother's dress," said Sanselme, "that she may
+have air."
+
+The girl looked at him as if she did not understand him. Oh! what shame
+and humiliation were in that young heart!
+
+Sanselme understood, for he said:
+
+"She is your mother, I believe?"
+
+She rose quickly and went to the bed, and leaning over the woman, kissed
+her brow. This was her answer to Sanselme's question. She then loosened
+the sick woman's garments. Feeling her child's hands, and able to
+breathe better, the woman said:
+
+"Do not touch me; I am in agony!"
+
+That was the beginning of delirium.
+
+"I am cold!" she cried. "Why do you put ice on my feet?" and she started
+up so suddenly that her daughter could not hold her.
+
+"Help me, sir," the girl cried to Sanselme.
+
+He ran to her assistance. He was astonished to see that the woman was
+not more than thirty-five, but her eyes were haggard, and she bore the
+marks of precocious old age.
+
+She uttered a shriek so wild and despairing that it curdled the blood in
+Sanselme's veins, and as he looked her full in the face, he trembled
+from head to foot.
+
+The doors opened; it was the physician, who looked utterly disgusted
+that he should have been called to such a place. He entered noisily,
+without removing his hat, and as he caught sight of the sick woman,
+looking like an inspired Pythoness, he said roughly:
+
+"Come, now, lie down."
+
+She looked at him with evident terror, and then, docile as a child, she
+lay down on the bed.
+
+The physician made a rapid examination.
+
+"There is nothing to be done," he said; "this woman is at the end of her
+rope."
+
+"For Heaven's sake, sir, be quiet!" whispered Sanselme, angrily. "The
+woman hears you, and you will kill her!"
+
+The Doctor took off his spectacles and closed them with a snap; then
+looking at Sanselme from head to foot, he said:
+
+"You are much interested in Madame. A relative, I presume?"
+
+"That is none of your affairs, sir. I beg you to confine yourself to
+writing your prescriptions, and I will see that you are paid."
+
+The physician was impressed by the tone in which these words were
+uttered. He wrote the prescription and went away. Then Sanselme said he
+would go for the medicine. He was absolutely livid and could hardly
+stand. He returned in twenty minutes, and met the mistress of the house
+on the street, where she was waiting.
+
+"Look here!" she said; "I don't like all this in my house, and I am
+going to bundle Zelda off to the Hospital. I don't want her to die
+here."
+
+Sanselme hardly heard her.
+
+"Tell me," he said, hastily, "what this woman's name is."
+
+"That is easy enough; I have her papers. It is something like Zeld, and
+we have got to calling her Zelda--it is more taking, you know."
+
+"Yes, I see; but do you know anything of her past?"
+
+"Not much."
+
+"She has a daughter?"
+
+"Yes, which is not at all pleasant for us. Of course, the child can't
+live here; she stays across the street. Zelda goes every night to the
+shop for her. It is nonsense, of course, for she will go the same way as
+her mother in the end."
+
+"Will you show me the papers?" asked Sanselme, "and I will do all I can
+for this woman."
+
+"Help me to get rid of her! That is all I ask."
+
+"Rely on me."
+
+Sanselme presently had the papers in his hands. The sick woman's name
+was Jane Zeld. She came from a little village in Switzerland, near
+Zurich. There was also a paper dated many years since, signed by her
+father, authorizing her to reside in the Commune of Selzheim, in Alsace.
+Sanselme turned sick and dizzy; he caught at the wall for support.
+
+"What on earth is the matter?" asked the old woman.
+
+He stammered a few incoherent words. Then in a measure recovering
+himself, he said:
+
+"I give you my word that I will take her away in the morning."
+
+"But if she should die in the night! However, I am too kind-hearted for
+my own good. She may stay here to night. But who will take care of her?"
+
+"I will," answered Sanselme; "but I must beg that you will take her
+daughter out of the room."
+
+"I can give her a bed in the closet next her mother's room. But you know
+if it were known, I should get into trouble, because she's a minor."
+
+They returned to the sick room. Zelda seemed calmer. The daughter was
+crouched upon the floor at the side of the bed. Sanselme spoke to her
+gently.
+
+"My child," he said, "I will take care of your mother to-night. You are
+tired, and a room is ready for you."
+
+"No! no!" cried the child. "I cannot stay here to-night, unless I am in
+my mother's room."
+
+And she looked so horrified that Sanselme was silent. He realized what
+this young creature must feel at the terrible life led by her mother.
+When the girl understood that the room she was to have could be reached
+only through that occupied by her mother, she said no more, but she
+seemed to shrink from the very air she breathed.
+
+The unhappy Zelda had fallen into a state of prostration, that rendered
+her unconscious of all that was going on about her. Her daughter went to
+her side.
+
+"Do not disturb her," said Sanselme, "she is asleep."
+
+For the first time the girl looked him full in the face. "You are very
+kind," she said. "You knew my mother then?"
+
+"Oh! no," answered Sanselme, eagerly, "but you are very tired, and some
+one must stay with her to-night."
+
+He spoke with a certain hesitation, as if he were telling a falsehood.
+The girl was too innocent to notice this manner.
+
+"If my mother wakes you will call me. Poor mamma! she is so kind."
+
+"I will call you, I give you my word," Sanselme answered.
+
+And the girl left the room, and in some ten minutes Sanselme heard her
+regular breathing; tired Nature asserted herself.
+
+Then he turned to the bed. From the rooms below came shrill laughter and
+the rattle of glasses. They cared little down there whether this poor
+creature lived or died. She was dying, of this Sanselme felt sure. He
+began to walk up and down the room, occasionally stopping at the side of
+the bed, as if seeking to discover in this pale, drawn face some
+forgotten image.
+
+It was very cold, and the light was dim; by degrees the house became
+quiet. He sat in the one chair in the room buried in thought. Suddenly
+the sick woman began to toss on her bed. He went to her, and said,
+gently, "Are you in pain?"
+
+"No."
+
+"Then try to sleep."
+
+"Sleep!" repeated the poor creature, and then, without any apparent
+reason, she said to herself, over and over again, "Accursed! Accursed!"
+
+Then she began to whisper. She raised herself in her bed, and was
+terrible to look upon. "I was a good girl," she said, "more than that, I
+was an innocent one. I used to go to confession. I was told to do so."
+
+Sanselme listened with beads of sweat on his brow. He determined to
+drink the cup to the dregs. "Yes," he said, "go on. It was at Selzheim."
+
+"Selzheim! yes. Oh! how sweet it was there. There was a mountain, and a
+lovely brook where I bathed my feet when I was a little thing."
+
+"And a Square and a fountain," whispered Sanselme.
+
+"Yes, how gay it was there, when we all played together. And then he
+came, all in black. We thought him so kind and good. He was the curé,
+you know."
+
+Sanselme started back.
+
+"And when he said to me, 'Jane, why do you not come to confession?' I
+told him the truth, and said it was because I had nothing to confess."
+
+"Go on! go on!" said Sanselme.
+
+Further doubt was impossible, he was himself the infamous priest. He
+fell on his knees, and sobbed and wept.
+
+The dying woman continued: "I went to confession as the curé bade me,
+and--"
+
+But we will not dwell on this terrible story as told by these dying
+lips. The priest abused his trust. His superiors knew the truth, but
+with that _esprit de corps_, which is in fact complicity, simply removed
+him and avoided all open scandal. His victim remained in the village.
+And because of his crime, she was condemned and despised. She was driven
+away, and gave birth to her child. And then, to live and to give bread
+to this child, she had become what she was.
+
+Sanselme took the hand of the dying woman.
+
+"And the child?" he asked. "Where is she?"
+
+The woman looked at him with her big dark eyes. For the first time she
+seemed conscious of his presence. And suddenly, in spite of the lapse of
+years, she recognized him. She shrank away with a frenzied shrink.
+
+"Yes, it is I! pardon me!" and Sanselme sank on his knees; "and tell me,
+I implore you, where the child is?"
+
+She did not speak, she could not. She stretched out her hand, and
+pointed to the room where her daughter was.
+
+"And she is my child?" cried Sanselme.
+
+"Yes," answered the dying woman. And as if this simple word had snapped
+the mainspring of life, she fell dead on the floor.
+
+He lifted her and laid her on the bed, and then the wretched man,
+crushed under the weight of his shame, dared to pray.
+
+When morning broke he knocked on the door of the next room. The girl
+awoke with a start and ran out.
+
+"Your mother is dead," he said, gently.
+
+The next day Sanselme laid the poor woman in her grave. Then he said to
+the girl:
+
+"I knew your mother. Before she died she made me promise never to desert
+you. Will you come to me?"
+
+Jane Zeld was utterly crushed. She had no will of her own. Where else
+could she have gone? She felt herself surrounded by a circle of crime.
+As long as her mother lived, the affection she received from her made
+her forget sometimes the sinister truth. But when she was alone in the
+world, she felt absolutely crushed by this ignominy. Pure as she was it
+seemed to herself that her mind was smirched.
+
+Sanselme had come to a grave decision. He left Lyons and took Jane with
+him, she having no idea of the reason of his devotion. He called himself
+her intendant, and was anxious to perform the most menial offices, and
+in these felt as if he were in a measure making amends for the past. He
+had one aspiration, that of paternal martyrdom. Gently and with paternal
+affection Sanselme soothed the girl's shame and despair. He had
+preserved much of the persuasiveness of a priest, his language stirred
+and softened at one and the same time. But now every word that he
+uttered was sincere.
+
+Jane remained excessively sad.
+
+Sanselme had saved several thousand francs. What should he do with Jane?
+He had left Lyons, hoping that a change of scene would go far toward
+restoring cheerfulness to Jane. Vain hope. She never forgot her mother,
+nor that mother's life. She learned with marvelous rapidity. Study was
+her best distraction. From this Sanselme hoped much. He taught her
+himself all that he had formerly learned, and wondered at the progress
+she made.
+
+The merest accident revealed to him Jane's amazing talent for music. If
+Art should take hold of her and absorb her entirely, she would forget
+and enter a new life.
+
+She studied music thoroughly, and Sanselme took care, living as they
+were, in Germany at that time, that she should constantly hear good
+music.
+
+Her memory was prodigious, her voice exceptionally true, her taste
+perfect. Sanselme felt that here was safety for him.
+
+At the end of a few years Jane, now become a great artist, went with her
+benefactor to Paris.
+
+Their position toward each other was in no degree modified. He was very
+respectful in his manner, and always kept a certain distance between
+them. He did not wish her to know anything more about herself than that
+she was the daughter of the wretched Zelda.
+
+By degrees the recollection of Lyons seemed to fall from the mind of
+Jane. Never was there the most distant allusion ever made to her mother,
+and the girl never spoke of her.
+
+This silence astonished Sanselme, and troubled him as well. He had
+studied Jane so closely that he thoroughly understood her character, her
+goodness, unselfishness and passionate gratitude. He knew that she had
+not forgotten her mother, and would never do so, and that the reason she
+never mentioned her was because her pain and shame were quite as acute
+as ever. Jane's character was a singular mixture of audacity and
+timidity. It was her own proposition that she should offer her services
+at the concert, and when Sanselme proposed that she should go to
+Sabrau's, the artist, she had not hesitated in doing so.
+
+She sought to distract her mind, for she was haunted by a spectre. She
+had a ghastly fear that she might be tempted to lead the life her mother
+had led.
+
+The theatre, so often calumniated, would be her safeguard, and in her
+pride as a great artist she would forget the past. It was her
+salvation, her glory, and the path to fortune. She would be respected,
+honored and happy. These were the dreams in which Sanselme indulged.
+Perhaps, too, some honest man would give her his name, and that of Jane
+Zeld would be merged in a happy matron.
+
+It was with great joy that he took Jane to the reception at the
+artist's, and here basked in the admiration and respect she received. If
+she would but consent to go on the stage her fortune was secured--but
+hitherto she had refused even to listen to this plan.
+
+That evening Sanselme had been shocked to meet Benedetto. The spectre of
+his past again arose before him, but he thought it impossible that
+Benedetto should recognize him. He had been guilty of one imprudence.
+When he heard the name of the Vicomte of Monte-Cristo, he remembered the
+rage of Benedetto at Toulon, and how he had sworn to be avenged on him.
+
+A secret instinct warned Sanselme that Benedetto would wreak his
+vengeance on the son of his enemy, and concealed behind the curtain he
+had given Esperance the warning that had so startled him. Then he
+hurried away, aghast at what he had done. What was the young Vicomte to
+him? What did he care for Benedetto's hates?
+
+When the fire caught Jane's robe, he had been a witness of the energetic
+promptness shown by the young man, and then he said to himself that he
+was glad he gave the warning. And when they returned home that night,
+Sanselme had never been in better spirits; it seemed to him that a
+great Future was unfolding before him. To his surprise he found Jane
+weeping. For the first time she had spoken angrily, but Sanselme would
+have forgiven her if she had struck him.
+
+He saw that memory still haunted her, that there was no peace or rest
+for her. He wanted her to travel, but the money, where was he to get
+money? And it was while tortured by these thoughts that Benedetto
+appeared to him.
+
+And this was not all. Benedetto knew his secret, and now, as if all this
+were not enough, Jane herself had vanished. It was more than human
+energy could support.
+
+While Sanselme stood on the bridge absorbed in these wretched thoughts,
+he heard a quick, running step. His well-trained ear could not be
+deceived. It was a woman's step--if it were she? He started forward. It
+was dark, and he could see nothing, and the steps were dying away. He
+ran on toward the _Pont de Jena_, and presently he heard the steps
+again, and before him on the bridge was a dark shadow. Was it Jane?
+
+He called, "Jane, my child!"
+
+Then he saw the shadow spring to the parapet, and something black passed
+between him and the sky--the splash of water, and all was still.
+
+"Too late!" cried Sanselme, "but I will save her." And he in his turn
+leaped into the water. He was a vigorous swimmer, as will be remembered
+by our readers.
+
+When he rose to the surface after his plunge, he looked around, and at
+some distance beheld a dark spot. He swam toward it and seized the
+woman's arm. She was just sinking. And now this man was so overwhelmed
+with emotion, that the blood rushed to his brain and his limbs were
+almost paralyzed. Fortunately the shore was not far away, but the woman
+clung convulsively to him.
+
+He called for aid, but all was silent and dark. He knew that he was
+sinking, and that the end was near. Suddenly a voice shouted:
+
+"Courage! we are coming." And two men appeared swimming vigorously.
+
+"I have one, Bobichel!"
+
+"And I have another, Monsieur Fanfar."
+
+With their burthens our old friends reached the shore.
+
+"God grant that it is not too late!" said Fanfar, kneeling by the side
+of the two inanimate forms. "What had we best do?"
+
+"Take them up on our shoulders, sir, and carry them along. Fortunately,
+the house is not far off."
+
+And Bobichel threw Sanselme over his shoulder as easily as if he had
+been a bag of meal, while Fanfar took the woman. They stopped at a small
+house not far from the Quai; every blind was closed; Fanfar uttered a
+peculiar cry.
+
+"Is that you?" asked a woman's voice.
+
+"Myself," answered Fanfar.
+
+The door opened, and presently the two bodies were laid on the floor.
+
+Fanfar took a lamp and looked at them.
+
+"I saw this man at the door where we stood to-night," said Bobichel.
+
+"Yes, I saw him, too," answered Fanfar. "But who can this woman be?"
+
+She was an old woman, with white hair.
+
+"We must all go to work. Madame Fanfar, we want your help; hot linen and
+flannels, if you please!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LIV.
+
+CARMEN.
+
+
+Very stately and magnificent were the offices of the _Banque de Credit
+Imperial_. The prospectus made one's mouth water. It was a magnificent
+conception of the Emperor's. To interest small capitalists would
+naturally result in great popularity.
+
+Napoleon III. always felt a great interest in the money of other people,
+and also, to use a vulgar expression, liked to have his hand in
+everybody's pie.
+
+The governor elected was Monsieur de Laisangy, who was looked upon as a
+marvelous financier. Although an old man, his activity was immense, both
+of mind and body.
+
+It was about ten o'clock in the morning. In an exquisite room, where
+each detail was in the best of taste and very rich, Carmen, in a
+peignoir trimmed with lace, was half lying on a couch. Her beautiful
+hair was loosely tied, and fell over her shoulders in a golden cascade.
+
+She was a beautiful creature, and yet there was a certain refinement
+lacking. Her hands, though white, were not delicately made, and her
+foot, in its rose-colored slipper, was not as slender as those of
+Parisian women. She seemed to be wrapped in thought. Finally, as if
+weary of arguing with herself, she extended her hand and rang the bell.
+
+A pretty maid servant entered.
+
+"What o'clock is it?"
+
+"Half-past ten."
+
+"Send a footman to tell Monsieur de Laisangy that I am waiting for him
+to come to breakfast."
+
+"But are you not going to dress?" asked the woman in surprise.
+
+"What for? I am not going out until four o'clock."
+
+"Yes, but you will not care to go to the dining-room in your peignoir?"
+
+"No, I will breakfast here in my boudoir."
+
+"With Monsieur de Laisangy?"
+
+"Yes. You look astonished. I do not like such airs. Arrange that small
+table, and wait upon us yourself."
+
+"Very good, Mademoiselle."
+
+As the woman left the room, she said to herself:
+
+"They are certainly very queer people, but it is none of my business if
+a young lady chooses to breakfast half dressed with her father!"
+
+In less than fifteen minutes the banker knocked at the door of the
+boudoir. He took his daughter's hand and pressed a paternal kiss upon
+it. As they were alone, Carmen withdrew her hand, and said quickly:
+
+"None of that, if you please!"
+
+The old man looked strangely disturbed, and fearing that these words had
+been spoken in too audible a voice, he laid a warning finger on his lip.
+
+They presently seated themselves at the table. The breakfast was served
+_à la Russe_--that is, with every thing on the table at once.
+
+"You can leave us," said Carmen to her maid.
+
+Laisangy ate heartily, but Carmen merely nibbled. The banker did not
+speak until he had eaten so much he could eat no more. He drank only
+water.
+
+Carmen began to be impatient.
+
+"It seems to me that I was never so hungry in my life before!" said
+Laisangy.
+
+"Ah!" answered Carmen, "and yet there were times in your life when you
+were starving!"
+
+Laisangy was eating a bit of cheese. He stopped with his fork in the
+air.
+
+"We will not talk of that!" he replied.
+
+"And why not? Everybody is not born with a million in his cradle. I,
+too, have been near starvation!"
+
+"Carmen!"
+
+"It is true, but pray finish your breakfast. I want to talk to you."
+
+If Goutran, assisted by some magician, had been able to see and hear
+this interview, he would have been thunderstruck. What a tone! What an
+expression! Not that she was less pretty, but there was a something in
+her manner and appearance which would have offended his taste.
+
+Laisangy finally stopped eating. Any other person would have been
+crimson after such a meal, but he actually looked paler than ever.
+
+Carmen rang the bell for coffee, and then they were again alone.
+
+"My dear Carmen, I am ready to listen to you," said the banker. She had
+lighted a cigarette, and was smoking, with her eyes fixed on him.
+
+"You want money, I suppose?"
+
+"No--I want information."
+
+"Information!"
+
+"Ah! that makes you uneasy, does it not? I am well aware that you are
+not fond of questions."
+
+Laisangy, who was drinking his third cup of coffee, shivered a little at
+these words.
+
+"I do not understand you," he said.
+
+"You will, presently. But I never saw anybody with such an appetite.
+When I was sixteen and could hardly get a crust of bread, I could not
+eat like that."
+
+"Why dwell on these memories, Carmen?"
+
+"Because, if I remind you of what and who I am, I shall have a better
+chance, perhaps, to learn who you are."
+
+"Carmen! Carmen!" said the old man imploringly, and becoming even paler
+than before.
+
+"I tell you that I intend to know who you are. Now hold your tongue and
+let me speak. I have had a weight on my heart for a long time, and now I
+intend to make a clean breast of it."
+
+No words can describe the terror on the face of the banker. He stammered
+and choked.
+
+"But, Carmen, we are so comfortable and happy. What do you want more?"
+
+"I wish to have my curiosity satisfied," answered Carmen, coldly.
+"Everything about you is a mystery and a fraud. In fact, you terrify
+me!"
+
+"But----"
+
+"Yes--even your way of eating is not natural. There is something of the
+wild beast about you, and I tell you I am afraid!"
+
+"But this is childish. You have known me a long time."
+
+"Yes. I am twenty-two now, and I was fifteen when you took me, while
+Mamma Lousteau was your cook at Florence--"
+
+"Hush! Carmen, you will be heard!"
+
+"Who cares! Yes, the whole world may hear the story of a girl whose
+mother was cook in a banker's house. The banker entered the girl's room
+in the night, the mother discovered it. Her rage and distress brought on
+an attack of apoplexy. She died, and I remained with you! These are the
+bare facts."
+
+"Carmen!"
+
+"Oh! I am not complaining. You were rich, you gave me jewels and fine
+clothes. I was only sixteen, I forgot your brutality and I remained with
+you. When you came back to France you told me that a certain regard must
+be paid to appearances, that we must lie, in short, and I agreed to pass
+as your daughter. And now, I ask"--she folded her arms on her breast--"I
+ask why you did not marry me?"
+
+"Good heavens! because--"
+
+"Because what? You cannot give me a good reason. Not a word of truth can
+ever be torn from you. I am convinced that back of all these lies there
+is some horrible infamy which you dare not acknowledge even to me."
+
+"Carmen! no more of this, I implore you! What has gone wrong with you?"
+
+"Everything. I simply wish to know, and am resolved to know, who you
+are--if not--"
+
+"If not?"
+
+"I have not quite decided. There are some things, bad as I am, which I
+will not stand, and I will make it the business of my life to discover
+what crimes you have committed, and I will denounce you!"
+
+Laisangy started to his feet.
+
+"Look at yourself in the mirror," cried Carmen, "and tell me if you do
+not look like a murderer!"
+
+Laisangy bit his lips so fiercely that the blood started. Then suddenly,
+as if a thought had struck him, he cried:
+
+"Come now, Carmen, don't say any more nasty things to me. I am an old
+man and have had many troubles."
+
+"Indeed?"
+
+"You have never questioned me like this before. Even my appetite offends
+you. Surely, there is no crime in that! You want to know something about
+me. One thing I will tell you--it may strike you as rather a joke. Once
+in Italy, going from one city to another, I had a large sum of money
+with me, and I was taken by brigands. These villains took it into their
+heads to sell me every mouthful I ate at its weight in gold. For some
+time I would not yield, and was nearly starved. Since that time I have
+had paroxysms of violent hunger. Do you see?"
+
+Carmen did not see, and she said:
+
+"But why did not the brigands take your money without subjecting you to
+this torture?"
+
+Laisangy looked troubled as he replied:
+
+"I am sure I don't know."
+
+"It looks to me as if these men whom you call brigands were inflicting a
+chastisement upon you, perhaps."
+
+"Carmen!"
+
+"Come, throw down your cards. I tell you I will no longer submit to this
+miserable farce we are playing here. I will no longer call myself your
+daughter, nor will I be dragged into the maze of intrigues which I
+divine."
+
+"Carmen! once more I implore you--"
+
+"I will not be your accomplice and be dragged by you into an abyss of
+infamy!"
+
+"But why should you say such things? I am rich, and honored by the favor
+of the Emperor."
+
+"A fine recommendation, that!" cried Carmen, disdainfully.
+
+"I am respected and honored by every one."
+
+Carmen rose from her chair and looked the banker full in the face.
+
+"Then tell me why, when we were at the _soirée_ last evening, at a name
+pronounced by a lacquey you became ghastly pale."
+
+"You are mistaken--"
+
+"It is true; you fled as if you had seen a ghost, and the name was
+Monte-Cristo."
+
+Laisangy was terrible to look at.
+
+"Hold your tongue! Hold your tongue!" and the banker rushed toward her
+with uplifted hand.
+
+But Carmen, with her arms folded upon her breast, looked at him with
+such disdain that his arm fell at his side.
+
+"And this is not all," she continued. "You met many enemies last
+evening, it seems; for some one said in the garden, 'Take care that you
+do not learn my name too soon, Monsieur de Laisangy.' These may not be
+the precise words, but they are nearly so."
+
+"Ah! you are a spy, then! Look out!"
+
+"I am not in the least afraid of you; but let me tell you that your
+present conduct strengthens all my suspicions, and I, in my turn, bid
+you look out! I shall learn the truth, and then--"
+
+"And then--"
+
+"I shall leave you. But if, in self-defence, you raise a finger against
+one whom I esteem, I will denounce you!"
+
+Laisangy, exasperated beyond all self-control, seized a knife from the
+table. The door opened and the maid entered.
+
+"Here is a card which the gentleman wished me to hand you at once, sir."
+
+Carmen took the card and read the name.
+
+"Signor Fagiano!" she read aloud. "Ah! he has come to tell you his right
+name, I fancy!"
+
+Laisangy took the card from Carmen's hand and dashed from the room.
+Carmen said, half aloud:
+
+"Goutran is the friend of the Vicomte de Monte-Cristo. I will watch!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LV.
+
+THE BANKER.
+
+
+Signor Fagiano was standing, when Monsieur de Laisangy entered the room.
+He was a man of fifty, but extremely fine looking, with a little of the
+air of the Duc de Morny in his best days. He had, however, a scar across
+one cheek that disfigured him. No one would have recognized him as the
+convict Benedetto. Laisangy entered with a pale face of disdain.
+
+We must not omit to mention what took place in the garden the previous
+evening. When the banker, overcome by the heat of the rooms, took refuge
+in the fresh air, he had been followed by Fagiano, who said to him, when
+out of hearing of every one:
+
+"Monsieur de Laisangy, I know your past."
+
+Laisangy started, and even uttered an exclamation of surprise. The other
+continued--a threat in every word. He asked for money--much money.
+Laisangy knew that in his long career he had left many creditors in the
+lurch, and finally he said:
+
+"Who are you? Why should I give you money? What is your name?"
+
+To these questions the mysterious stranger replied:
+
+"Take care--you will know my name only too soon!"
+
+Since then Laisangy had been very uneasy. Possibly his conscience was
+not quite clear. He now came to see this Fagiano in a state of rage,
+exasperated by the scene with Carmen, and the favorite of the Emperor
+now came to measure weapons with this stranger.
+
+"Well, sir," said the banker, "this is the second time that you have
+seen fit to throw yourself in my path. Yesterday you addressed me in a
+fashion that savored of blackmail. What do you want? I do not know you,
+nor you me. I am a patient man, but even my patience has limits; and it
+may happen that I give my servants orders to throw you out of doors,
+neck and heels!"
+
+The other, leaning with one elbow on the mantel, laughed aloud as he
+said:
+
+"Ring, if you choose, my good fellow. There will then be a nice
+scandal!"
+
+The banker's hand, even then on the bell, dropped at his side.
+
+"Ah! I see you do not care for witnesses!"
+
+Laisangy opened his lips to speak.
+
+"And you are right, perhaps. Napoleon, who knew the world, said, 'It is
+always best to wash your dirty linen at home!' and we have--you and I--a
+tremendous wash on hand!"
+
+Laisangy did not move; his eyes were fixed on the face of this man, to
+whom he could not give a name. He finally managed to say:
+
+"I am not fond of mysteries. Who are you?"
+
+"You do not know me, then?"
+
+Fagiano laughed, and in this laugh was a certain ferocity.
+
+"Give me two hundred thousand francs and you will never see me again!"
+
+Laisangy answered with a certain dignity:
+
+"I never give alms to strangers."
+
+"Bless my soul!" cried Fagiano, "your manners are improving. You do not
+know my name, but I know yours, Monsieur Danglars!"
+
+At this name the banker started back.
+
+"You are mad!" he cried.
+
+"Very well; but what would you say if at the Tuileries you heard
+yourself announced by your real name, Monsieur Danglars?"
+
+Danglars, for it was he, drew a pistol from his pocket and presented it
+to Fagiano's breast. He with a quick blow struck it from the banker's
+hand. It fell on the floor and fortunately did not go off. Fagiano
+picked it up and drew the charge.
+
+"Dangerous playthings and sad interruptions in a conversation," he said.
+"We can understand each other without this. And now, having gotten
+through with this melodramatic scene, I tell you that I shall not be
+content with less than five hundred thousand francs."
+
+Danglars was utterly confounded. But presently, gathering himself
+together, he said:
+
+"I am not intimidated by your threats. You can make what use you please
+of your knowledge, you share it with many others. No one cares."
+
+"But I have more to say. I propose to reveal my own name to you. Can I
+so change that you do not recognize me?"
+
+"I never saw you before."
+
+"How does it happen, Monsieur Danglars, that you have a daughter of
+twenty when your wife was living fifteen years since? She had a daughter
+by you, and her name was not Carmen."
+
+Danglars was disconcerted. He threw himself upon a chair.
+
+"Go on," he said.
+
+"Ah! you are beginning to understand me, are you? I know what I say, and
+will prove it to you. You, as a banker, enriched yourself in
+speculations, each more dishonorable than the other, and you encountered
+a man who crushed you like a worm under his heel. You fell, but you are
+of the kind that bounds, and to-day you are once more upon a pinnacle.
+You vegetated for years, until the moment came when you could once more
+seize fortune in your grasp. You are no longer Danglars the bankrupt and
+thief--you are Laisangy, respected and trusted. Know then that I have it
+in my power to throw you back into the mire from which you have
+struggled. I am ready to be your enemy or your accomplice, the choice is
+in your hands."
+
+"Ah! I know you!" cried Danglars, throwing up his hands. "You are Andrea
+Cavalcanti. Yes, it is all coming back to me. You called yourself by a
+title to which you had no claim; you professed to have a fortune that
+had no existence, and you introduced yourself into my family. But the
+day came when the law interfered!"
+
+"Ah! your memory is an excellent one!" Then relinquishing his sneer and
+his smile, he leaned toward Danglars. "I am Benedetto, the assassin;
+Benedetto, the convict. But that is not all. Are you acquainted with my
+father's name?"
+
+"I heard of a scandalous suit, but I was not in France."
+
+"No, you had fled. You were not here when, in the court-room, I flung my
+hatred and my loathing at the head of the Procureur du Roi--at the head
+of my father, Monsieur de Villefort. And do you know the name of my
+mother?"
+
+"It was never given."
+
+"I will tell it to you, nevertheless. She was Madame Danglars."
+
+The banker started to his feet, his whole frame twitching nervously.
+
+"It is not true! It is not true!" he cried.
+
+"She was my mother, I tell you, and I punished her as she deserved, for
+I killed her!"
+
+"Horrible! Horrible!" And the wretched man who listened to these words
+wrung his hands.
+
+"Yes, and here is the proof."
+
+Benedetto drew from his pocketbook the paper on which Sanselme had
+written the lines he had dictated.
+
+"Read this," he said. "I was not alone; the witness is still living, and
+I can produce him if necessary."
+
+Danglars had fallen back in his chair.
+
+"Now then," continued Benedetto, "you know who I am, and you know, too,
+that I hesitate at nothing. Once more, will you obey me?"
+
+"But what do you wish me to do?"
+
+"In the first place, I want money. I am tired of poverty, and of the
+incessant perils which it forces me to run. You are rich. Make me rich."
+
+"You shall have money."
+
+"And much money. But this is not all."
+
+Benedetto laid his hand on the shoulder of his companion.
+
+"Have you forgotten," he said, in a stern voice, "the man who humiliated
+and tortured you? Do you feel no thirst for revenge?"
+
+Danglars looked up quickly.
+
+"That man," continued Benedetto, "was and is your evil genius, as well
+as mine. He tempted me. He launched me into a world where all my
+appetite for luxury was developed, then suddenly he sent me to a prison.
+You remember all the tortures he inflicted on you. Now it is in our
+power to heap on this man a vengeance so terrible that he will writhe at
+our feet. This vengeance I mean to have. Danglars, do you wish to see
+this man suffer? Then give me your hand, and we will work together."
+
+Danglars murmured:
+
+"It is impossible. Vengeance is sweet, but it can not be."
+
+"Impossible!" sneered Benedetto. "We two will succeed, I swear to you."
+
+"No, no, I am afraid of him!"
+
+"Are you a child? Once more, Danglars, do you wish to be revenged on
+Monte-Cristo, if I can prove to you that you personally run no risk? I
+too am afraid of him. I too have thought for a long time that he was
+all-powerful and not to be reached. To-day I have discovered a fault in
+his armor, and intend that this man shall weep tears of blood. Once
+more, will you assist me?"
+
+"Ah! if it were possible!" sighed Danglars.
+
+"Listen to me a moment. This man has one immense passion, his love for
+his son, and it is through this love that we shall reach him. The Count
+of Monte-Cristo is invincible, you say. You forget that he has a son."
+
+"The Vicomte Esperance!"
+
+"To strike the son is to kill the father!"
+
+"You are right--and I, like you, hate him!"
+
+"Then join me, and we shall have a terrible revenge. I must have money,
+though, and you must swear to obey me blindly."
+
+"And you say that we will crush Monte-Cristo?"
+
+"I swear it!"
+
+"Then," said Danglars, "I join you, for I hate him!"
+
+And the two men shook hands in ratification of their oath.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LVI.
+
+ESPERANCE, MONTE-CRISTO'S SON.
+
+
+Now let us go back to Esperance. Three days have elapsed since Jane was
+borne into the hôtel on the Champs-Elysées.
+
+We find Madame Caraman deep in a conference with the person on whom she
+has more reliance than on any one else in the world, none other than
+herself! The good woman was lying on a sofa, listening to every sound
+which came from the room where Jane lay utterly prostrated.
+
+"I don't know," said the old lady half aloud, "whether I am doing right
+or not. The Count begged me to look out for his son, and I have tried to
+do this. I have now accepted a new duty from the Vicomte, and for three
+days and nights I have been watching over this poor young girl. This is
+all very well. The Vicomte has requested me to keep the affair secret,
+even from his father, and I have consented. Here I am not sure that I
+have done wisely. The Count said: 'If you have any especial
+communication to make to me, you may go to Monsieur Fanfar.' That is
+clear enough. But if I obey the father I disobey the son!"
+
+All these arguments failed to satisfy the good woman of the excellence
+of her cause, for she shook her head several times. She heard a long
+sigh, and ran to Jane's bed. The girl's face looked like wax, her
+eyelids had a brownish tinge. Her lips were parted with the sigh that
+her nurse had heard.
+
+Poor Jane! Was she on the road to recovery? Alas! the physicians did not
+yet answer for her life. Goutran had, at the request of Esperance,
+brought two men of great science, but they agreed that the girl was in
+great danger.
+
+When Madame leaned over her to give her the medicine, Jane seemed to be
+terribly frightened. The color rushed to her cheeks, and she panted for
+breath.
+
+Suddenly her eyes opened wide, and she cried aloud:
+
+"Ah! let me die--let me die!"
+
+"My poor, dear child!" said Madame Caraman, kissing her tenderly on her
+brow, "you must not say that! Try to be calm and good."
+
+But Jane did not listen to her. She seemed to be haunted by some
+terrible spectre. Delirium has some astonishing resurrections. She
+struggled so fiercely in the arms of her nurse that Madame, who had been
+told to summon Esperance at any moment, leaned forward and touched a
+bell.
+
+In a moment the Vicomte appeared. Oh! how pale and hollow-eyed he was!
+As he entered, Jane fell back among her pillows, covering her face with
+her hands.
+
+"What is it?" asked Esperance.
+
+"Only a little more fever, sir, but I feared an accident, and called
+you."
+
+"You did right, and I thank you."
+
+He took the girl's hands gently in his. At his touch tears sprang to
+Jane's closed eyes, and a little shiver passed over her whole body.
+
+"She is calmer now," said Madame, "and I am almost sorry that I have
+disturbed you."
+
+"No--I am very glad you did. You must be very weary. Lie down, and I
+will stay here until dawn."
+
+"No--I am old, I do not require much sleep, while you----"
+
+Esperance sat on the foot of the bed, holding Jane's slender hands.
+
+"Do you think," he said gently, "that I can sleep while she is
+suffering? Go, I beg of you--I will call you soon."
+
+Madame still resisted a little, perhaps for form's sake, but finally
+obeyed his wishes. The young man then sank on his knees, still holding
+Jane's hands.
+
+They remained thus, silent and motionless. From the touch of the
+Vicomte's hand Jane seemed to experience profound relief. Is it not
+certain that between two persons a certain magnetic communication may
+take place--an electric fluid may pass from one to the other, making the
+two momentarily one?
+
+Esperance bowed his head and pressed his lips on Jane's hand. Then the
+young girl opened her eyes. The fever was gone. Her glorious eyes had
+regained all their softness, and her pulse beat more regularly.
+
+"Jane! Jane!" whispered the young man. It seemed to him that he felt a
+gentle pressure of her fingers. "You hear me?" he said. "Will you allow
+me to remain near you? If you only knew how much I suffer in seeing
+your sufferings, and how gladly I would spare you a pang!" Again the
+little quivering pressure.
+
+"When I saw you the other night it did not seem to me that it was the
+first time. I felt as if I had seen you in my dreams. Jane, why did you
+wish to die?"
+
+Was she listening? Did she hear him? A delicious torpor had taken
+possession of the girl. She thought she was dreaming, and was afraid to
+move lest she should awaken. The past seemed far away.
+
+He continued:
+
+"Jane, before I saw you I did not live. I was always sad. What did it
+matter to me the luxury with which I was surrounded? I have always felt
+singularly alone, my life was incomplete. But now I feel as if it were
+well rounded. You have suffered, but now all that is over. You will tell
+me all, because we are to have no secrets from each other. We will leave
+Paris, and find some quiet retreat together."
+
+She did not speak, but from under her half-closed eyes a tear stole down
+her cheek. Esperance kissed the tear away. She smiled faintly, and then
+fell into a sweet sleep. Seeing this, Esperance rose and softly left the
+room.
+
+In the ante-room Madame Caraman lay asleep on the sofa. Esperance
+smiled, but as he knew that Jane was safe, he did not arouse her nurse.
+
+He went to his room. Hardly had the sound of his footsteps died away
+than the portière is lifted in yonder corner, and a dark form appears.
+It was a man. His face was hidden by a black vail. In his hand was a
+white handkerchief and a glass bottle. He stole to the bed so softly
+that not a sound was heard.
+
+Who is this man? It was thus that Monte-Cristo once entered the room of
+Valentine de Villefort. But this was not Monte-Cristo. As he reached the
+bed he extended his arm and held to the girl's face the handkerchief,
+from which exhaled a blue vapor.
+
+Jane was breathing naturally. Suddenly her whole form quivered, then
+came immobility. Her limbs straighten, the rose fades from her cheek,
+her brow becomes like marble. The man lifted the inert form in his arms,
+and slowly, with infinite precautions, he moved toward the portière,
+which he pushes aside and disappears.
+
+Ah! Madame Caraman, ah! Esperance, you little know what is going on!
+
+This man is Benedetto. His revenge has begun!
+
+And in that empty room there is now no other sound than the ticking of
+the clock.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LVII.
+
+THEY MUST BE SAVED!
+
+
+My readers have not forgotten the romantic episode that followed Jane's
+suicide. How happened it that our old friends Fanfar and Bobichel were
+near and able to save the life of Sanselme?
+
+It is a very simple matter. Monte-Cristo had said to Fanfar, "I trust my
+son to you. You love me, love him, also. Be to him what you have been to
+me."
+
+"Rely on me," Fanfar said, and Monte-Cristo went away, confiding in
+himself, in everything, and still more in the strange fatality which had
+always served him.
+
+Fanfar kept his word. He watched everything that Esperance did. He had
+been told, also, not to permit this surveillance to be suspected unless
+some real danger made it necessary to disclose it.
+
+The evening that Esperance went to Goutran's, Fanfar, accompanied by the
+inseparable Bobichel, had seen the young man enter his friend's house,
+he had seen him place Jane in the carriage, and finally had watched him
+walk away with Goutran.
+
+Could there be anything more reassuring? Fanfar thought not, and in a
+state of perfect satisfaction they walked along the left shore of the
+Seine, where Fanfar had a little house in the Rue Bellechasse.
+
+They were talking earnestly, when they heard loud cries for aid. They
+instantly plunged into the river and swam in the direction of the cries.
+
+They were successful in their efforts, and saved the lives of both the
+man and the woman. Sanselme, however, had a brain fever, and the woman,
+Fanfar discovered, was insane. With her it was a passing delirium.
+Fanfar was greatly puzzled to know what to do with her. Who was she?
+Whence came she? There was nothing about her person which would
+elucidate the mystery. It was possible that she had escaped from some
+hospital, and Fanfar went to the Prefecture to make inquiries, but no
+such disappearance was registered there.
+
+Fanfar naturally felt that there must be some connection between these
+two persons. Some frightful tragedy had been enacted. But he also felt
+that absolute secrecy was due the two unfortunates, till at last it was
+plain that there was no danger in revealing the adventure.
+
+Days elapsed. Sanselme had terrible attacks of frenzy, and the woman,
+when she was able to move, had risen from her bed and gone to the door
+of her room, where she stood with terror and anguish imprinted on every
+feature, and if any one entered the room she would press both hands on
+her breast and utter a terrible shriek.
+
+Finally Fanfar's wife had called him to see a scar on the breast of the
+unfortunate creature. She had certainly received a terrible wound, but
+when and where? The scar was not a new one.
+
+Fanfar had sent Bobichel to the Vicomte's, for he had reproached himself
+that he had neglected Esperance in his interest for these two strangers.
+He sat near Sanselme's bed, and in the next room the mad woman was
+asleep, crouching on the floor near the door.
+
+Fanfar looked at the man before him, and his unerring instinct told him
+that this livid, worn face had known not only great sorrow, but terrible
+remorse.
+
+Sanselme said something. Fanfar leaned over him to hear more distinctly.
+
+"My daughter; dead! dead!"
+
+And these words were repeated over and over again. What did this mean?
+The woman Sanselme had saved was older than he; she could not be his
+daughter.
+
+Fanfar said in distinct but soothing tones, "You have a daughter? You
+have lost her?"
+
+"Yes, my Jane!"
+
+Sanselme flung himself from one side of the bed to the other in intense
+agony, and Fanfar asked question after question. He could not tear from
+the man the smallest information.
+
+Having taken a sedative the sick man fell asleep, but it was plain that
+his dreams were troubled. Fanfar took up a book, when he heard the
+door-bell, and Bobichel suddenly appeared all out of breath. He dropped
+on a chair, and seemed to be in great trouble.
+
+"What is the matter?" asked Fanfar.
+
+"Oh! such a dreadful thing has happened to Monte-Cristo's son!"
+
+"To the Vicomte!" cried Fanfar, leaping from his chair. He seized
+Bobichel's arm rather roughly, and shaking it, cried, "Will you speak?"
+
+"Yes, master, but I don't know how to tell you that the Vicomte has gone
+away."
+
+"Gone away, and what of that?"
+
+"But he has disappeared!"
+
+"Who says so?"
+
+"Old Madame Caraman and Coucon."
+
+Fanfar passed his hand over his troubled brow. "My dear old friend," he
+said, "take pity on me, and tell me all you know; do not compel me to
+ask so many questions."
+
+"Well, then, listen. You as well as I, became a little anxious because
+we had heard nothing of Monsieur Esperance for so long. I have found out
+that the night of the _soirée_, while we were saving those two old
+people in there, he was also doing something of the same kind."
+
+"Did he not go home then, as we supposed?"
+
+"Not he! He did not go home for over two hours, then he and Monsieur
+Goutran had a person with them who had been wounded--a young girl--she
+had been shot!"
+
+"What preposterous tale is this?"
+
+"It is true, sir. I did not believe it myself, at first, and as I felt
+sure you would doubt the story, I took the liberty of bringing the
+witnesses with me. Caraman and Coucon are here, sir."
+
+"Oh! Bobichel, why could you not have said this before? Let me see them
+at once, and I swear that I will get at the truth!"
+
+Fanfar, in addition to his impatience, felt a certain remorse. If any
+accident happened to Esperance he felt in a measure responsible.
+
+Caraman and Coucon came in. They were in great trouble.
+
+"My good friends," said Fanfar, taking Madame's hand. She was sobbing
+fit to break her heart, while Coucon was gnawing the ends of his
+moustache, in order not to imitate her example. "My good friends, I do
+not yet believe that what Bobichel tells me is true. He says that the
+Vicomte has disappeared."
+
+"Yes, sir," growled Coucon.
+
+"Then, Madame Caraman, this is no time for tears. Tears remedy nothing,
+and we must have all our wits about us."
+
+Madame held out her arms to Fanfar, as she fell on her knees before him.
+
+"I am the one in fault, and I shall never forgive myself."
+
+"Pray tell me the whole."
+
+"I have broken all my promises in not sending to you before, and yet all
+the time I had a presentiment of evil."
+
+She wept and sobbed to such a degree that Fanfar could scarcely
+understand her, but he finally managed to soothe her. She had little to
+explain, however. She told how Esperance and Goutran had come in late at
+night, and brought with them a young girl who had been wounded by a
+pistol shot, and who seemed to be dying. How she herself had watched
+over this girl night and day. She told how, in obedience to the
+Vicomte, she had gone to lie down, being very weary and sleepy.
+
+"I can't say how it happened," she sighed. "I had been greatly fatigued.
+I only meant to rest, not to sleep, but when I opened my eyes it was
+broad daylight. I jumped up, and ran to the door and listened, but all
+was silent; then I stole to the bed, I thought she was asleep, of
+course. Suddenly it occurred to me that the silence was too profound. I
+tore open the curtain, the bed was empty. At first I thought the girl
+might have been carried to some other room, she was too weak to walk,
+you understand, and perhaps Coucon had helped, so I went to him and he
+rubbed his eyes and yawned."
+
+"Madame Caraman!" exclaimed Coucon.
+
+"Yes, you did, and were as stupid as possible. At all events, he had
+heard nothing, seen nothing. Then I took it into my head that the
+Vicomte had taken her away. And--and--I can't tell you what I thought,
+but did not like to go to the Vicomte. I knew if she was in his room,
+that he would not like any one to know it. This was an infamous thought
+on my part, for she is a good girl, I am sure."
+
+"Pray, go on with your story, my dear lady," said Fanfar, with a shade
+of impatience. "We are losing a great deal of precious time."
+
+"You are right! Well, I finally decided to go to the Vicomte's door. He
+was sitting at the table studying some books on medicine, and I told
+him. Oh! how sorry I was for him. I had no idea that he would care, but
+he became deadly pale, and thrusting me aside, a little rudely I must
+confess, he ran to the room I had just left, and when he found I had
+told him the simple truth he went nearly crazy. Even if, as I first
+thought might be the case, the girl had an attack of delirium, she could
+not have opened the window, besides it was fastened inside. The doors
+were all bolted too. I did not know what to think. Monsieur Esperance
+was in such a rage that I don't like to think of him. But after all he
+was right, I had no business to sleep in that way."
+
+"Go on; tell me about Esperance. When did he go away?"
+
+"We have not seen him since last evening. He put his hat on his head,
+and went out without saying a word to us."
+
+Fanfar reflected.
+
+"You have no idea where he went?"
+
+"Not the slightest. Oh! what will the Count say to us!"
+
+"You have been very imprudent, but there is no use in recriminations. We
+must look for Esperance at once. Do you know how the girl was wounded?"
+
+"No, but Monsieur Goutran does."
+
+"I will go to him immediately."
+
+"Oh! we have been there, and he has gone away for the day. Here is a
+little bag which we found in the young lady's room, and it may tell you
+something."
+
+And Madame, as she spoke, handed Fanfar one of those little morocco bags
+so much in vogue to be hung at the belt. Fanfar opened the bag, and
+found a letter without address.
+
+"We must look at this," he said.
+
+The letter was only a few lines of thanks written to the young girl by
+Goutran, when she consented to sing at his _soirée_. The note began with
+the words "Miss Jane!"
+
+"Miss Jane!" cried Fanfar, a sudden recollection flashing over him.
+
+To this cry there was a response. The door opened, and Sanselme tottered
+in.
+
+"Jane! Jane! Did you say Jane?"
+
+Fanfar ran to his assistance.
+
+"Don't trouble yourself about me," cried Sanselme. "Tell me, did I hear
+you speak the name of Jane?"
+
+"That is certainly the name on this note," answered Fanfar, extending
+the paper in his hand, which Sanselme snatched from him.
+
+"Yes, it is hers. It is my dau--" He stopped even in his delirium he had
+strength to conceal his secret. "It is Jane's," he added.
+
+"Then you know this girl?" Fanfar asked, excitedly.
+
+"Do I know her? Was it not she who wished to die? Was it not she whom I
+rescued?"
+
+"No, calm yourself. You are mistaken. You must try and tell me what I
+wish to know. Terrible dangers threaten those whom perhaps we both
+love."
+
+"Is Jane in danger?" asked Sanselme, frantically. "Let me go! I must
+leave this place at once."
+
+He started from his chair, but his strength failed him, and if Fanfar
+had not caught him he would have fallen.
+
+"Ah!" he half sobbed, "I might have known it! That wretch Benedetto is
+always a signal of misfortune to me."
+
+"Who speaks of Benedetto!" said a hoarse voice.
+
+Every one started. Before them stood the mad woman in torn and shabby
+garments, with her white hair in disorder. And as Sanselme looked up he
+saw her. A terrible cry escaped from his lips, and he recoiled with
+staring eyes riveted on the spectre before him.
+
+"It is she!" he murmured. "The dead, it seems, are permitted to revisit
+the earth!"
+
+The woman slowly approached Sanselme, and looked at him closely. She
+came so near that she could touch him, and then with a wild laugh, she
+screamed:
+
+"The convict! Yes, it is he!"
+
+And then, shuddering from head to foot, she repeated, "Benedetto! Who
+speaks of Benedetto?"
+
+"What does all this mean?" asked Fanfar.
+
+"I will tell you," said Sanselme, averting his eyes. "Yes, it is true, I
+am an escaped convict. This woman is right, but I never did her any
+harm. Look at me, woman! Tell me, was it I who struck you?"
+
+The mad woman tore away the rags that covered the terrible scar on her
+breast.
+
+"Oh! how it hurts," she said, moaning, "and how hot my head is."
+
+"But who did it?"
+
+The woman in a frightened whisper, answered:
+
+"It was Benedetto--my son!"
+
+A cry of horror escaped from every heart.
+
+"Yes," exclaimed Sanselme, "and the wretch still lives. He assassinated
+his mother, and by what miracle she escaped, I know not. He--this
+Benedetto--is to-day in Paris. He has come to avenge himself on
+Monte-Cristo."
+
+Fanfar questioned Sanselme, who avowed everything except that Jane was
+his daughter. He would not have admitted this had he been threatened
+with the guillotine. Fanfar listened attentively.
+
+"It is as clear as day to me," he said, at last, "that all this is
+Benedetto's work. Therefore we will first find him, and of him we will
+demand an account of this new crime. Sanselme, you have been a great
+criminal. Are you ready to prove your repentance?"
+
+"I will obey you in whatsoever you order. Save Jane, no matter what
+becomes of me."
+
+"Then all of you will make ready for the fray. I will summon the Count
+of Monte-Cristo, as it was agreed I should do in case of danger. He will
+be here in three days, and we must be able to say to him that we have
+saved his son."
+
+"Yes, we must say that," cried the Zouave, "or Coucon will be dead."
+
+"To work then," said Fanfar, rising. "Sanselme, come into my cabinet,
+there are several questions I wish to ask. But first, who is this
+woman?"
+
+"Benedetto never told me," answered Sanselme.
+
+Fanfar went to the mad woman, who was crouching near the door.
+
+"Who are you?" he said. "What is your name?"
+
+She laughed in a stupid way.
+
+"I have no name, I am dead!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LVIII.
+
+GOUTRAN AND CARMEN.
+
+
+Goutran was really in love, although for a time his attention had been
+distracted by the strange affair of Jane Zeld. But now that calm was in
+a measure restored, Goutran thought of Carmen with quickened pulse. He
+no longer hesitated. He resolved to write to a millionaire uncle of his
+who spent his last days hunting wolves in the Ardennes, and beg him to
+come up and lay his proposal before the banker. He told Esperance what
+he meant to do, and the Vicomte encouraged the plan.
+
+When he had come to this conclusion, he was astonished to find that the
+same indecision again attacked him. Why did he hesitate? He would have
+been at a loss to say. He determined, however, on one of two things,
+either to ask Carmen's hand or never see her again. He had been with
+Esperance for forty-eight hours, encouraging him and ministering to
+Jane, and now he felt the need of fresh air. He walked toward Saint
+Cloud, softly saying to himself among the green trees:
+
+"I love her! I love her!"
+
+On his return the decision was made. He would write to his uncle the
+next day. As he entered the hôtel, the concierge said to him
+mysteriously:
+
+"There was a lady here, sir."
+
+"A lady! What lady?"
+
+"Ah! sir, that I can't say. My discretion was too great to permit me to
+ask her name. I think she is young and pretty, though she was heavily
+vailed. She asked for you, and when I told her you were out she looked
+embarrassed, and finally drew from her pocket a little note which she
+had prepared. She gave it to me, saying it was very urgent."
+
+"A note! Where is it? You should have given it to me at once."
+
+"Oh! it is safe, sir, in my davenport."
+
+A concierge with a davenport! What is the world coming to, thought
+Goutran.
+
+Finally the good man produced the paper in question, rose colored and
+perfumed. Goutran tore it open, but did not read it until he reached his
+own room. The address was in delicate, long letters, the result of
+lessons from an English master. Who could have sent it? He did not know
+the writing. But when he glanced at the signature he with difficulty
+refrained from a cry of surprise. The note was signed, "Carmen de
+L----." These were its contents:
+
+
+  "MONSIEUR GOUTRAN--or will you allow me to call you my friend--I must
+  see you at once on matters of vast importance. To-night, at eleven
+  o'clock, I shall expect you. Ring at the side door of the hôtel; my
+  maid will be in attendance. Do not fail, for you and those you love
+  are in danger."
+
+
+Goutran was amazed. What did these mysterious lines mean? And of whom
+did Carmen speak when she said "those you love"? He was greatly
+disturbed, but he was not the man to hesitate.
+
+At ten o'clock he was already walking up and down a street which
+commanded a view of the Hôtel Laisangy, but he felt none of the emotion
+natural to a lover going to a rendezvous. He had a feeling of strange
+oppression. Finally the clock struck eleven. The side door was on the
+Rue Saint Honoré. Goutran was about to ring the bell, when the door was
+opened and a hand was laid on his.
+
+"Come this way," said a woman's voice.
+
+It was the curious maid whom we have already seen. She was enchanted,
+feeling sure that it was a lover she admitted. The stairs were carpeted
+and dimly lighted. Presently he entered Carmen's boudoir, but she was
+not there.
+
+"I will notify the young lady," said the maid, with one of those knowing
+smiles that tell so much.
+
+Goutran was standing with his hat in his hand when Carmen entered. She
+was very simply dressed in black. Her beautiful face was very pale. Her
+blonde hair looked like burnished gold. She extended her hand as he
+advanced with a profound bow.
+
+"Many thanks," she said, "for having come. I hardly dared expect you."
+
+"Why did you doubt me? Did you suppose that I could be deaf to such a
+mark of confidence?"
+
+Carmen smiled sadly.
+
+"Yes," she said, "I do feel entire confidence in you, a confidence that
+is most real."
+
+She seated herself and motioned him to a chair, and with her large eyes
+fixed on her companion, was silent for a minute. At last she said,
+abruptly:
+
+"Monsieur Goutran, do you love me?"
+
+At this most unexpected question, Goutran started.
+
+"Yes," he answered, gravely. "I love you, and I feel a devotion for you
+which is, perhaps, better than love."
+
+Carmen's long lashes rested on her burning cheeks.
+
+"Your words are sweeter to me than you can well imagine. By and by you
+will understand me better. I need your affection, and I need your
+assistance, but I am about to put your interest in me to a very severe
+test."
+
+"You have but to express your wishes," said Goutran.
+
+Carmen waited. Evidently she had not strength to go on with her
+explanation.
+
+"Listen to me," she resumed. "I owe you a declaration which will remove
+every possibility of a misunderstanding between us. A few days ago, when
+on the terrace of your house my hands rested in yours, I fully realized
+that, so far as you were concerned, a tacit engagement from that moment
+existed between us."
+
+"From that moment," interrupted Goutran, "I felt that if you would
+accept my hand and name----"
+
+"And yet you did not apply to Monsieur Laisangy?" said Carmen, gently.
+
+"Did you doubt me? I did not dare."
+
+"And you were right, for, Monsieur Goutran, I can never be your wife!"
+
+Goutran rose quickly.
+
+"Was it to break my heart that you summoned me here to-night?" he cried.
+
+"I can never be your wife," repeated Carmen, "because only an unstained
+woman should bear your name!"
+
+Goutran turned deadly pale.
+
+"And I," she continued, "am not such a woman!"
+
+"Ah! Mademoiselle, I cannot understand you."
+
+"Listen to me. Every word I speak I have thoroughly weighed, and I
+understand my duty. I hope my frankness will at least win your esteem,
+and possibly your pity."
+
+"My pity! Ah! Carmen, for God's sake do not say such things!"
+
+"I have not finished. Goutran, I love you, deeply and sincerely. Your
+character, your talents, all inspire me, for the first time in my life,
+with those sentiments which tend to elevate us. Before knowing you I
+passed through life knowing little, and caring little, of what was right
+or what was wrong."
+
+Tears were now pouring down her cheeks.
+
+"I am not the daughter," she sobbed, "I am not the daughter, I am the
+friend, of Monsieur de Laisangy!"
+
+A pained exclamation broke from Goutran's breast, and he hid his face in
+his hands. He felt as if a dagger had struck him in the heart.
+
+"Yes," continued Carmen, with a smile of contempt, "this old man, for
+reasons of his own, insisted on my bearing his name. Do not condemn me
+too greatly," she continued, "I was not sixteen when I fell into the
+trap that this man laid for me. Think of it!"
+
+"The miserable scoundrel!"
+
+"Yes, he ruined me, body and soul! All the finer instincts of my nature
+he sneered at. He taught me to despise everything--himself, myself! For
+five long years I endured this martyrdom. When we reached Paris, he
+added another wrong to those he had already inflicted on me. He
+compelled me to profane the sacred name of father, and yet I did not
+realize my shame until the day I met you. I sat to you for my portrait,
+and as you talked I felt a whole new world opening before me. I knew
+then, for the first time, that I was unworthy of the love of an honest
+man. Ah! Goutran, how I have suffered in loving you!"
+
+And the poor girl sank on her knees, a very Magdalen.
+
+Goutran laid his hand on her head.
+
+"Carmen, these avowals prove to me that I was not wrong in thinking you
+the best and the most adorable woman in the world!"
+
+"You do not loathe me, then?"
+
+"Have I any right to be your judge? I have certainly received a sad
+shock."
+
+He lifted her to a chair.
+
+"If you have made me this terrible confidence it is because you wish to
+give me a proof of your great confidence in me. I shall be worthy of
+it, be sure of that. And now, tell me what you wish."
+
+Carmen lifted her sad eyes to his.
+
+"How good you are!" she said, quietly. "But you are right. Now you will
+not doubt my motives nor me?"
+
+"I swear that I will believe every syllable you utter!"
+
+Carmen, after a few moments' consideration, said:
+
+"You are very fond of this young Monte-Cristo?"
+
+"Certainly I am. He is one of the noblest fellows I ever met. But why do
+you speak of him?"
+
+"Because it was to speak of him that I summoned you here to-night. Your
+friend, Goutran, is in great danger, as are you--and myself, too."
+
+"Danger!"
+
+"We must find some means of avoiding it, but your enemies----"
+
+"I have no enemies!"
+
+"Yes, and Monsieur de Laisangy is one of them."
+
+"That scoundrel!"
+
+"Yes, and he is worse than I supposed, and the other foe is--but did you
+notice an Italian here, the secretary of the Italian Count?"
+
+"Yes--his name was Fagiano."
+
+"He calls himself Fagiano, but that is not his real name."
+
+"Who is he, then?"
+
+"I cannot say. But listen. For some time I have hated and loathed
+Laisangy. I felt that he was a greater criminal towards others than
+myself, and as my conscience began to stir, I felt my suspicions daily
+increase. At your _soirée_ I noticed that this man whom I called father
+started and turned pale when he heard the name of Monte-Cristo, and then
+he invented some pretext to leave the room."
+
+"I remember," said Goutran.
+
+"Then, when we were on the terrace--" Carmen hesitated. There were
+memories connected with that terrace which she did not care to approach.
+
+Goutran said, kindly:
+
+"Go on, dear child."
+
+"I do not know if you remember as well as myself a dispute which we, in
+a measure, overheard. I recognized Laisangy's voice, and the
+disconnected words confirmed my suspicions. Early the next morning I
+sent for him and questioned him very closely, and in a most peremptory
+manner. In the midst of our animated discussion a card was brought in.
+This Signor Fagiano had called to see Monsieur de Laisangy.
+
+"I heard no more of him, saw no more of him, until yesterday, when, as I
+entered the hôtel, I saw Fagiano coming in. I at once ran into
+Laisangy's private office, and reached it first, where I hid in a
+closet, ready to listen to every word. Do not reprove me. All means are
+lawful when dangers threaten those you love, and some instinct taught me
+that I should learn something of you and the Vicomte."
+
+Goutran kissed Carmen's hand as his sole reply.
+
+"The two men came in a moment or two, and I at once learned from the
+first words they uttered that they were associates in some crime. What
+it is I know not, but Fagiano said:
+
+"'I have done it, and now our vengeance is certain. But I need money.'
+
+"'I have already told you that I would give it to you. Here is what you
+want. And now, what do you mean to do?'
+
+"'She is in my power now, and I shall soon have him, too.'
+
+"'No imprudence! We must not be compromised.'
+
+"'I am hardly foolish enough for that. I will torture Monte-Cristo's
+son, but not in a way that the law can reach!'
+
+"'Let him be tortured! Let him pay for all the agony his father has
+inflicted on me!'
+
+"'You shall be satisfied!'
+
+"The two men then walked away still talking, but in such low voices that
+I could not hear. I rushed from my hiding-place and hastened to my room.
+I had learned little, it is true; but what I heard had opened wide and
+fearful possibilities. I knew Monsieur de Laisangy, and knew that he
+would stop at nothing. It would be useless for me to interfere openly,
+and then I thought of you."
+
+"And you we're right in sending for me. In your recital, however, there
+are many points that are obscure. Thank you for warning me. You asked
+me, a few moments since, if I loved Esperance. I look upon him as my
+brother, and I would give my life to spare him a pang."
+
+"But of whom did the man speak when he said, '_she_ is in my power'?"
+
+"I do not venture to say; but in an hour we shall know."
+
+The young man turned toward the door. Carmen came to his side and gave
+him her hand. He drew her to his breast.
+
+"You have hurt me, Carmen, but I respect you more than ever, and I love
+you!"
+
+"Ah!" she said, passionately, "those words from your lips have made me
+your slave. I belong to you from this moment! I will mount guard over
+the enemy, and we will work together!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LIX.
+
+UPON THE TRACK.
+
+
+Goutran left Carmen's room, his brain all in a whirl. It was late, but
+the young man knew not too late to go to the Vicomte's. Throwing himself
+into a carriage, he drove to the hôtel in the Champs Elysées. He was
+amazed to find it in total darkness, and when he asked for the Vicomte,
+was surprised at the embarrassed manner of the Swiss, as well as to hear
+that Esperance was out, without leaving word when he would return.
+
+"And Madame Caraman and Coucon?"
+
+"They are out too, sir."
+
+While Goutran was thus impatiently questioning the man, a carriage
+stopped, from which descended Fanfar, Sanselme, Coucon and Madame
+Caraman.
+
+"Ah! Monsieur Goutran!" exclaimed Fanfar, "I have just been to your
+rooms, and am thankful to meet you here. I am anxious to consult with
+you."
+
+"You know, then, what is going on?" cried Goutran.
+
+"I think I do; but let us go up-stairs; before we begin the fray, it is
+well to understand the battlefield, and to become familiar with it."
+
+As he said this, Fanfar entered the vestibule, but the Swiss hurried
+after him.
+
+"But, sir," he said, in some confusion, "in the absence of the Count and
+his son, I really cannot--"
+
+"Shut yourself up in your room, and pay no heed to what is going on
+here," Fanfar replied, sternly, showing, as he spoke, a ring that he
+wore on his finger.
+
+It belonged to Monte-Cristo, and had been entrusted to Fanfar by the
+Count when he went away. This ring was well known to every one of the
+Count's people. The man bowed low.
+
+"I beg your pardon, sir. Shall I call the footman?"
+
+"No; and on your life do not admit a living creature. You understand
+me?"
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+They ascended the stairs and entered the large rooms one after the
+other. When the Vicomte's cabinet was entered, it was found all in
+disorder.
+
+"The Vicomte, you see, has taken his pistols," said Coucon.
+
+"What time did the Vicomte go?" asked Fanfar.
+
+"I know not," answered Coucon, "and Madame was weeping so bitterly that
+she was of little use."
+
+Fanfar was annoyed that he could elicit so little, knowing well that if
+Monte-Cristo were there his eagle eye would have discovered something.
+
+"Send me the porter," he said.
+
+And when the man appeared, he asked at what hour the Vicomte went out
+last. The man, in some confusion, replied that he did not see him go
+out.
+
+"You were absent from your post, then?"
+
+"No, sir, I was not. I was not away for one moment yesterday."
+
+"And you saw every one who came in and went out?"
+
+"Yes, sir. The Vicomte did go out, but he came in again."
+
+"Came in!" cried Madame and Coucon, together.
+
+"Yes; it was about an hour after that, when you came and told me he had
+disappeared. I thought that he might have gone out, and I not heeded
+it."
+
+"And may not this have been so?" asked Fanfar. "If the Vicomte is not in
+the hôtel, he must have gone out, you know."
+
+"I beg to observe, sir, that the Vicomte might have gone out by the
+small door which communicates directly with his apartment; but every
+night when I shut up the house I bolt that door, and it is still bolted;
+so that my young master did not go that way. It is possible, of course,
+that he could have passed my door without my seeing him. I can't always
+answer for myself; but I have proof that he did not do this."
+
+"What is your proof?"
+
+"Every night I fasten the great door with a chain and padlock and take
+the key. If any one wishes to go out in the night he must call me. As
+soon as the Vicomte came in I put up this chain. I assure you, sir, that
+I am speaking the truth. At first I was troubled and afraid I had been
+careless, but since I have collected my ideas, I am sure that I have
+nothing to reproach myself with."
+
+"Do you mean to say, then," cried Coucon, "that the Vicomte walked
+through the wall?"
+
+"It is very strange," said Fanfar, thoughtfully. "And now, my friends,"
+he added, turning to Coucon and Madame, "you may leave me here with
+Monsieur Goutran."
+
+"And with me?" added Bobichel.
+
+"You can stay, if you will. I may need you."
+
+"But, Monsieur Fanfar," said poor Madame, "I think we, too, are good for
+something. You ought not to send us away."
+
+The poor woman was greatly distressed.
+
+"Oh! I have something for you to do. Examine the garden carefully, and
+if you see the smallest thing that is unusual, come to me instantly."
+
+"There won't be a corner in which I shall not put my nose, be sure of
+that!" cried Coucon.
+
+"Oh! if the Count were only here!" sighed Madame.
+
+Fanfar was alone with Bobichel and Goutran.
+
+"Have you anything to suggest?" he said, suddenly turning to Goutran.
+"Do you know of any secret egress from this hôtel?"
+
+"None whatever," answered the artist.
+
+"And yet you will observe that the girl was not carried away by either
+of the doors that are known, and she is gone!"
+
+"I did not think of that! There is unquestionably some issue known only
+to the Count."
+
+"Alas! the Count's enemies know it, also," answered Fanfar.
+
+"Let us go to the room that the girl was in--"
+
+"I was about to make that proposal. Now is the time, Bobichel," said
+Fanfar, turning to the former clown, "to see if we cannot regain a
+little of our cleverness."
+
+"I am ready, even to go through the eye of a needle, if it be
+necessary!" answered Bobichel.
+
+Goutran took a candle and led the way. When they reached Jane's room
+Fanfar took up a position in the centre of it, examined the ceiling, the
+floor and the walls. Then Bobichel explored every inch of the floor,
+which was covered with a thick carpet. But nothing could be found.
+
+"This is most extraordinary," murmured Fanfar, "and yet I am convinced
+that I am on the track."
+
+Suddenly Bobichel uttered an exclamation. "Here is something, master!"
+
+Fanfar and Goutran hastened to him. In one of the silk folds of the
+hanging on the wall there was a bit of white lace, evidently torn from
+something.
+
+"I recognize that," said Goutran. "I ordered the peignoirs she required,
+for we did not wish to admit any one into our secrets; and that lace
+trimmed one of the peignoirs."
+
+"And now we have it!" shouted Bobichel, inserting the blade of his knife
+in one of the plaits of the silk.
+
+Fanfar said hastily, "It is an iron door, and there must be a spring.
+Let us try, each of us, and feel over the whole wall, if it is
+necessary."
+
+They went to work, and presently Bobichel was lucky enough to press a
+little knob. A panel slowly opened, and a puff of warm air came full in
+the eager faces of the anxious men. With the light of their candles they
+saw a well-finished passage and two or three stairs; it was too dark to
+see more.
+
+"This is the way that Jane was abducted, and this is the way that
+Esperance went. Let us see where it goes." And Fanfar started first.
+
+Hardly had they reached the stairs than they heard the iron door close
+behind them. In spite of all their courage, they shuddered. Had the door
+shut of itself, or had it been closed by some invisible enemy? They
+turned back hastily, but there was not the smallest sign to be seen of
+door or spring.
+
+"What had we best do?" asked Goutran, uneasily.
+
+Fanfar reflected a moment. "As we cannot go back, let us hasten forward
+with all possible speed. We will find the way out."
+
+"Or we will make one!" cried Bobichel.
+
+The three friends started once more, Bobichel in front, holding a heavy
+bronze candelabra.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LX.
+
+ESPERANCE IN DESPAIR.
+
+
+It was indeed by this mysterious path that Esperance had gone. When he
+heard that Jane was not to be found, he at first could hardly comprehend
+what was said. He ran to Jane's room and looked about, then scarce
+knowing what he did, he left the house and then returned to it, after
+having wandered over Paris for two or three hours. No one noticed his
+pallor when he entered the hôtel. He went to Jane's room again, and
+there, lying back in a low chair, he looked about with sad eyes.
+
+Suddenly he saw a panel slowly open in the wall. He was not afraid.
+Esperance did not know the sensation, and now he simply expected some
+revelation. He instantly knew that this was the path by which Jane had
+been taken away. He rose and entered the dark corridor. He had no light,
+and the door at once closed behind him; but he had inherited his
+father's singular power of seeing in the dark.
+
+He discovered the stairs, and began to descend them. He went on and on,
+and then another corridor, and then more stairs. Finally he reached a
+door, which he opened, and entered a large room hung with silk. It was
+one of the houses which had been so useful to Monte-Cristo years before.
+The path by which Esperance had come crossed the Champs Elysées under
+ground, and communicated with this house.
+
+All was magnificent, but Esperance saw nothing. Nothing but a lacquer
+table on which lay a letter. This letter contained the words, "If the
+son of Monte-Cristo be not a coward, if he wishes to find her whom he
+has lost, he will go from here to a certain Malvernet, who lives at
+Courberrie. There he will learn what he wishes to know, and will act as
+he deems best."
+
+Esperance was delighted. He did not stop to think of the singularity of
+finding this note in this place. What did he care for this mystery that
+surrounded him? He had found Jane Zeld, or rather he had found traces of
+her. He went to the chimney to look at the clock, for he had lost all
+idea of time, and happening to see his own face in the mirror, he could
+not repress a start. He looked to himself at least ten years older than
+when he last stood before a mirror. He wondered at himself, when he
+remembered his father, whose youth seemed eternal, in spite of the
+trials through which he had passed. When he went out from the hôtel the
+first time he had mechanically put in his pocket a pair of revolvers--he
+had them now.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LXI.
+
+ESPERANCE GOES TO COURBERRIE.
+
+
+Twenty years since Courberrie was very far from what it is to-day. The
+houses were scattered and much fewer. Along the Seine extended deserted
+fields, against which the sullen tide rose and fell. In one of these
+fields stood an old wooden house which was not inhabited, for both wind
+and rain penetrated its roof and walls. On this especial night, however,
+any one familiar with the locality would have been astonished to see a
+light gleam through the worm-eaten shutters. In one room was a chair and
+a table. On the table was a lamp, but there was no other furniture.
+
+Pacing the room, and occasionally stopping to listen to the storm that
+shook the old house like the bones of a skeleton, was a man--a reddish
+beard covered half his face. He was dressed in black, and had thrown a
+cloak and broad-brimmed hat on the table.
+
+"Will he come?" he muttered, "will the long-expected hour ever strike?"
+
+A slight sound was heard without. The dry branches crackled; the man
+started, then snatched his hat and pulled it well down over his
+forehead. The hand that was hidden in the folds of the cloak which he
+threw over his shoulders, held a dagger.
+
+"I won't use it, though!" he said aloud, "his sufferings would be too
+brief!"
+
+There came a knock at the door.
+
+"Does a man named Malvernet live here?" asked a voice.
+
+"Yes, come in," and the door was thrown wide open.
+
+Esperance entered.
+
+"What do you want of me? I am Malvernet," said a gruff voice.
+
+Esperance looked about the room. The man was alone, and Esperance knew
+that he could defend himself.
+
+"Do you know who I am?" he asked.
+
+"No. I was told to wait for a man here, who would come. I have done as I
+was bidden, that is all."
+
+"I will tell you then. I am Esperance, the son of the Count of
+Monte-Cristo. I am rich, so rich that I do not myself know how much I
+have. Now if you obey me faithfully, I will make you so rich that every
+wish you have will be realized."
+
+A sneer was on Malvernet's lips.
+
+"You offer me money, do you, and why? Tell me what you want of me?"
+
+"Scoundrels entered my house in the night--"
+
+"And robbed you?"
+
+"Yes, they robbed me of a treasure--a treasure for which I would give
+all else I have in the world. They carried away a young girl whom I
+love."
+
+"And the girl's name?"
+
+"Jane. And now I wish you to take me to her."
+
+"And if I refuse?"
+
+"I will kill you!" answered Esperance, coldly.
+
+The other began to laugh noisily.
+
+"No," he said, "you will not kill me! You know that if you did that,
+with me would disappear every trace of her whom you love, and you would
+say to yourself, if he refuses to-day he may yield to-morrow. You see,
+son of Monte-Cristo, that your threats are preposterous and can't
+frighten me."
+
+"Then you refuse to do as I ask?"
+
+"By no means. Only I wish to prove to you that these grand airs are
+simply foolish. You need me, but I do not need you. The game is not
+equal!"
+
+"You are right," said Esperance, "and I ask your pardon."
+
+The eyes of Benedetto--for it was Benedetto--flashed with triumph to see
+the son of his enemy thus humble. He had him in his power now and could
+kill him if he pleased, but death would not have assuaged his thirst for
+vengeance.
+
+"All right," he said, "I was a little provoked with you, but I will
+help you now."
+
+Esperance uttered an exclamation of thankfulness.
+
+"Then let us hasten. When I have found Jane, ask me for my life if you
+choose."
+
+Benedetto opened the door.
+
+"Go on, sir, I will follow you."
+
+And as they went out, Benedetto muttered:
+
+"You little know what you say. Your life is indeed mine, and I mean to
+have it."
+
+The night was excessively dark, but Esperance felt neither rain nor
+wind; his fever was so great that he was not cold.
+
+Ah! Monte-Cristo, where are you? Here is your son rushing into the most
+terrible danger, and you far away!
+
+Through the darkness Esperance followed Benedetto the assassin. Suddenly
+it seemed to him that the obscurity was rent away like a vail.
+
+"Where are we?" he said to his guide.
+
+"On the bank of the Seine. We have not far to go. Are you afraid?"
+
+Esperance did not reply to this insulting question.
+
+"Go on!" he said.
+
+Presently they stopped before a dark building. Not a light was to be
+seen. Benedetto turned to the son of Monte-Cristo.
+
+"This is the place to which I agreed to bring you."
+
+"Do you mean that my beloved Jane is in this house?"
+
+"She is here."
+
+"I cannot believe it. The whole thing is a plot!"
+
+"Will you kindly tell me, sir," said Benedetto, "why I should take the
+trouble to come all this way? A half hour since we were together where
+no human eye could see us, nor human ear hear us. What would have
+prevented my attacking you then, had my intentions been sinister?"
+
+"That is true; but tell me that you are mistaken--that my poor Jane is
+not here!"
+
+At this moment shrill laughter and ribald songs came from the house near
+which Esperance stood.
+
+"Let us go in!" cried the Vicomte. "Jane must not stay here one other
+minute."
+
+"Come, then," answered Benedetto, "you shall be satisfied."
+
+He opened the door, but it was as dark within as without. Esperance
+heard the door close; he spoke, but there was no answer. He stretched
+out his arms and felt the wall, and instantly his eyes regained their
+peculiar facility of sight. He was alone in a small, square room without
+door or window. He uttered a cry of rage.
+
+"I have been deceived! The scoundrel!"
+
+But at the same moment the wall opened before him like two sliding
+panels, but in the place of the wall were iron bars. And through these
+bars Esperance beheld Jane, but what he saw was so terrible that he
+recoiled and uttered a cry of terror, which was drowned in shrieks of
+laughter, wild songs and the clatter of glasses.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LXII.
+
+COUCON.
+
+
+Goutran had entire faith in Carmen, and he was now anxious to
+communicate with her. He called the former Zouave.
+
+"Coucon," he said, "do you know where Monsieur Laisangy lives?"
+
+"The great banker? Oh! yes, sir, everybody knows that."
+
+"Then without losing one minute, I want you to go to his hôtel. This
+note must be given to his daughter at once."
+
+"To Miss Carmen, sir?"
+
+"Precisely; but understand me--no one else must see it. This note must
+be given into her hands."
+
+"I understand, sir; it shall be done. There is nothing I would not do,
+sir, to repair my own stupidity."
+
+Coucon started off. To go to the hôtel and ask for Miss Carmen was
+simple enough, but he took it into his head that it would be better if
+no one knew that he was there. He thought he would examine the premises
+before he decided on his course of action.
+
+When he reached the hôtel, to his great surprise he found the doors wide
+open and the courtyard blazing with lights. Carriage after carriage was
+driving up, and stopping at the vestibule.
+
+"Upon my life," said Coucon, "this is bad enough."
+
+He stepped into a wine-shop, and asked for a bottle of wine; as he drank
+it he said to himself: "How the deuce am I to see Miss Carmen? She is in
+the salon receiving her guests. Of course, she won't come into the
+anteroom to get a _billet doux_, but if the mountain won't come to
+Mohammed, Mohammed must go to the mountain, which means, that if Miss
+Carmen won't come to me in the anteroom, I must go to her!"
+
+At this moment a Chasseur d'Afrique entered the wine-shop.
+
+"Will you have the kindness to tell me," he asked, of the shop-keeper,
+"where I shall find the hôtel of a rich banker about here? Laisangy, I
+think, is the name."
+
+"Almost opposite--where all those carriages stand."
+
+"Ah! thanks!" And as the soldier turned round he saw Coucon.
+
+The recognition was mutual, and the two former companions fell into each
+other's arms.
+
+"Galaret!" cried Coucon.
+
+"Yes. And now let us have a glass."
+
+"Can't stop, have a commission to perform!"
+
+Nevertheless, Coucon did stop to drink a little, and to gossip. "When
+did you come to Paris?" he asked.
+
+"This very day, in the escort of Mohammed-Ben-Omar, a sort of Pasha, you
+know, and to-night he slipped on the stairs and wrenched his ankle. Take
+another glass, friend. Well, as I was saying, he was asked to this
+_soirée_ at the banker's and had to write a refusal. As he lies on his
+sofa, and is likely to lie there for some little time, this note I must
+deliver."
+
+Coucon did not seem to hear what his friend was saying, but suddenly
+exclaimed to an innocent looking bourgeois, at another table:
+
+"What are you staring at?"
+
+In vain did the man stammer that he was not even looking at them. One
+word led to another until a hot quarrel was in progress, the police were
+called in, and Galaret was arrested.
+
+"Give me your note," said Coucon, in the most obliging manner, "I will
+see that it is delivered."
+
+And he dashed out of the shop with suspicious alacrity. "You are a fool,
+Coucon," he said to himself, "if you don't manage to deliver your own
+note at the same time!"
+
+Our readers must not suppose that Coucon was so simple as to think of
+penetrating the Laisangy salons, even with the note he had obtained in
+so abominable a manner from his friend. The plan he had devised was more
+audacious and more sure. Ten minutes later the former Zouave entered the
+shop of a costumer in the Rue de Pélétere. And in five minutes more he
+sallied forth a magnificent Bedouin, draped in white and wearing an
+enormous turban. He called out to the astonished coachman:
+
+"Rue de Rivoli! and drive fast!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LXIII.
+
+CARMEN KEEPS HER WORD.
+
+
+"I will watch the enemy," Carmen had said to Goutran, when they parted.
+The enemy was the man who had taken advantage of her inexperience, and
+induced her to call him father. Why had she not realized what she was
+doing sooner? She had, however, shown her womanly courage by the
+confession she had made to Goutran, and now she found herself without
+shield or buckler in opposition to the man under whose roof she lived.
+She resolved to defend Goutran and all those he loved. Woe to whomsoever
+should attack them.
+
+That same morning, Laisangy asked to be received by her. She was quite
+ready for another quarrel, but Laisangy was amiable and smiling, for he
+had at that moment heard from Benedetto that his vengeance was near
+being accomplished.
+
+Strangely enough this man Laisangy was in deadly terror of Monte-Cristo,
+and fully estimated the almost superhuman power of this wonderful man.
+But when Benedetto appeared before him and he found that there was one
+villain greater than himself, he was encouraged and comforted. What joy
+it would be to torture, without danger to himself, the soul of him whom
+he had so feared.
+
+Danglars had given himself, soul and body, to Benedetto, as in legends a
+man abandons himself to a demon. He smiled as he entered Carmen's room.
+
+"What do you want of me?" she said, coldly.
+
+"You have not forgotten that we give a grand reception this evening."
+
+"This evening! Surely you mistake--"
+
+"No. This is your own list of invitations that I hold in my hand."
+
+Carmen had forgotten entirely that these invitations had been sent out a
+week before.
+
+Laisangy looked at her closely.
+
+"I fancied," he said, "that this entertainment had escaped your memory."
+
+"I certainly shall not appear!" answered Carmen.
+
+The banker bit his lips, this was precisely what he feared. He began to
+argue the matter gently. And she, in her turn, began to reflect. She saw
+on the list the name of Goutran, which she had written with a breaking
+heart. After all, had she the right to desert her post?
+
+"Very well," she said, "I will be present."
+
+Laisangy was astonished at his prompt success.
+
+"Yes," she repeated, "on condition that you do not once call me your
+daughter."
+
+"What shall I call you?" stammered Laisangy.
+
+"Whatever you choose, only take care that you do not disobey me!"
+
+In fact, the banker cared little upon this point. He had obtained what
+he wanted. His fête would be made brilliant by Carmen's presence. He did
+not retire, however, and the girl saw that he had something else to
+say.
+
+"What more do you want?" she asked, impatiently.
+
+"My dear child," began Laisangy, with some pomposity, "you have,
+doubtless, ere this discovered that matters of finance are composed of a
+thousand details more important than those of diplomacy."
+
+"I have certainly learned that swindling is a troublesome business," she
+said through her teeth, and with intense disdain.
+
+Laisangy pretended not to hear this.
+
+"To-night," he said, with perfect _sang froid_, "we leave the
+Tuileries."
+
+He had counted on the effect of these words. Carmen shrugged her
+shoulders, which certainly was not respectful to the Emperor.
+
+"And I am greatly disturbed," continued the banker. "It may be necessary
+for me to leave for an hour. I shall pretend indisposition, which may be
+attributed to the heat, and while I am supposed to be recovering in my
+own room, I can go out and attend to my affairs."
+
+"You may be obliged to go out, then?"
+
+"Certainly; did you not understand?"
+
+"Why do you not tell me that you wish to go to the Bourse?"
+
+Laisangy was annoyed. He saw that Carmen was on the _qui vive_, and
+Carmen said to herself: "What does this mean? He is lying, and some
+infernal machination is on foot. I must learn what it is."
+
+She replied more gently:
+
+"But I care little about these matters; the Bourse does not interest
+me. At what hour did you say you might be called away?"
+
+"About midnight."
+
+"Very good. Then you would like me, I suppose, to be very anxious about
+you, and urge you to withdraw?"
+
+"Precisely!" answered the banker, much pleased. "Ah, Carmen, how well
+you understand me. Had you chosen, we two would have governed France!"
+
+"Not I!" answered Carmen, abruptly. "We are companions, not accomplices.
+I do not understand you, and I do not propose to aid you in your
+infamy."
+
+At this word Laisangy started, and thus confirmed the suspicions of
+Carmen, who was watching him.
+
+He took her hand, and she withdrew it quickly. He had obtained what he
+desired, and was now ready to depart.
+
+"What is he planning?" said Carmen to herself. "Is it really some
+financial operation, which, of course, I care nothing about, or is
+it----?"
+
+Goutran's name rose to her lips. All day she watched him, but saw
+nothing to justify her in her belief, and yet she knew that her woman's
+instinct had not played her false. Over and over again she was tempted
+to retract her promise, for the idea of this fête was intolerable to
+her. She thought of Goutran, and remembered that she might save him.
+
+The evening came, and Carmen's maid could hardly believe it was she who
+replied:
+
+"What dress, did you say? I don't care in the least!"
+
+Nevertheless, when Carmen appeared in the salons there was an audible
+murmur of admiration. In her white dress, with a few flowers in her
+beautiful hair, Carmen had never been more beautiful. She moved slowly
+through the rooms, looking for Goutran, who was not there, as we know.
+
+Little did Carmen care for these men and women, who were the tools and
+slaves of the man of December. Laisangy was radiant, however. Carmen
+shivered whenever she looked at him. It seemed to her that he was in a
+state of unusual excitement.
+
+The orchestra was playing delightfully, and lacqueys were announcing the
+first names of the empire--counts, and barons, and princes. Suddenly a
+new name was heard:
+
+"Mohammed-Ben-Omar!"
+
+And a magnificent personage, wearing the Legion of Honor on his white
+bournous, entered the room. Every one turned to look at him. He was a
+magnificent looking Arab. With a gravity that was truly oriental, and
+with his face half concealed in the folds of his mantle, his brown hands
+folded on his breast, Mohammed-Ben-Omar advanced.
+
+Laisangy went forward to meet him. In fact, he could hardly believe in
+his good fortune. Mohammed-Ben-Omar belonged to that class of Algerians
+who, listening to the counsel of French financiers, always cherished the
+project of making Algeria into a veritable El Dorado, and had now come
+to France to lend the support of his name and authority to some one of
+the speculations built on the sands of the desert, of which the
+Tuileries people were so fond.
+
+Laisangy, learning of his arrival in Paris, had hastened to send him an
+invitation, but had hardly hoped to see him. He was, therefore, more
+than usually civil.
+
+Ben-Omar replied to his courtesies only by carrying his hand to his
+heart and then to his forehead, in the recognized Mussulman manner. He
+did not speak one word of French, and yet, when Carmen passed, he said
+"Beautiful!" with a guttural intonation.
+
+"My daughter, sir!" answered the banker, with pride.
+
+"Beautiful! beautiful!" repeated the Mohammedan.
+
+Laisangy signed to Omar to accompany him to the group where Carmen was
+talking. There he went through the ceremony of introduction. Then,
+leaning toward her, Omar said, under his breath:
+
+"I come from Goutran. Allah il Allah!" he added, aloud.
+
+Carmen started. Never was she so astonished. The name of Goutran from
+these lips was like lightning from a clear sky. She looked at the Arab's
+bronze face and his huge moustache.
+
+"Take His Excellency's arm," said Laisangy, "and show him the gallery
+and statuary."
+
+Carmen hesitated, but Omar at once threw his bournous aside and offered
+the young lady his arm.
+
+Laisangy whispered in Carmen's ear:
+
+"Do not delay too long. I have received the signal and must do what was
+agreed upon between us."
+
+Carmen paid little heed to these words, but moved through the crowd on
+Omar's arm, slowly and thoughtfully. Omar was very solemn, but under his
+moustache he whispered:
+
+"I come from Monsieur Goutran."
+
+"Who are you?" she asked, raising her fan to hide her lips as she spoke.
+
+Whenever the crowd came too near he raised his arm, and with a grand
+sweep of bournous, hand and arm, he said:
+
+"Allah il Allah! Rassoul il Allah!"
+
+Everybody drew back much impressed, for the incomprehensible has always
+great power.
+
+At last, Omar and Carmen were alone in a small salon.
+
+"Will you tell me who you are?" asked Carmen once again.
+
+"I am Coucon--devoted to Monsieur Goutran and to Esperance, the son of
+Monte-Cristo."
+
+"And you disguised yourself to see me?"
+
+"Yes, for I had a note to bring from Monsieur Goutran."
+
+"Give it to me!" Carmen cried.
+
+When at last Coucon succeeded in finding it among the folds of his
+bournous, she snatched it from him.
+
+This is what she read:
+
+
+  "Carmen, my friend and my ally, you have promised your assistance.
+  Gladly do I claim it. My friends are in great peril. Jane Zeld has
+  vanished in the most mysterious manner, as has Esperance. There must
+  be in the Hôtel de Monte-Cristo some secret issue which our enemies do
+  not know. The infamous L---- must possess this secret. Do your best to
+  discover it. You see that I place my reliance on you, for I love you.
+
+  "GOUTRAN."
+
+
+Carmen uttered a joyous exclamation. Goutran loved her! Coucon turned
+toward her.
+
+"Well," he asked, "what am I to tell him?"
+
+"Return to Monsieur Goutran and tell him that if it costs me my life I
+will discover what he wishes to know. And remember that you must open
+the door of the hôtel to me at whatever time I may come. Of course, you
+and Monsieur Goutran will be there all night. Now, go!"
+
+At this moment a terrified looking servant entered the room.
+
+"Mademoiselle," he said, "your father has just been taken ill."
+
+Omar respectfully saluted the young girl, and was lost in the crowd. No
+one noticed him, for there was much excitement over the illness of the
+great financier. Carmen followed the lacquey with rather too slow a step
+for the occasion. She was intensely irritated at this new comedy, and
+she was tempted to cry out to the crowd:
+
+"He lies! He has always lied!"
+
+Laisangy was lying back in his chair. There was no physician in the
+room, and yet the people about him talked knowingly of bleeding him.
+Fortunately for him, Carmen arrived.
+
+"I know what it is," she said; "he has had similar attacks before. He
+will be better after a little rest."
+
+And Carmen gave orders that the banker should be carried to his chamber.
+Then excusing herself to her guests, she followed.
+
+Laisangy, who was becoming greatly bored by the part he was playing,
+supposed that Carmen would dismiss the servants and remain with him
+herself; but she had quite other plans. She bade the men undress their
+master and put him in his bed. Laisangy was ready to swear at her, but,
+of course, he was too ill to dispute. If he suddenly revived and made a
+row, then the story would get about of the ridiculous comedy he had
+played. His patience was not long tried, however. Carmen only wanted to
+gain a little time, in which she might hope to discover the contents of
+a letter which she saw the banker receive and put in his pocket early in
+the evening. She found the letter and retired into the next room to read
+it.
+
+"Vengeance is assured. Fanfar and Goutran are prisoners in the house of
+Monte-Cristo. As to the girl, she is at the house at Courberrie, where
+Esperance will arrive too late."
+
+Hardly had Carmen grasped the sense of these words than she ran to her
+room, and wrapping herself in her long black cloak, left the hôtel by
+the private door.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LXIV.
+
+THE PLOT.
+
+
+We left Esperance in the house at Courberrie just when the panels had
+been thrown open. He uttered a cry of horror. What did he see? Around a
+table covered with glasses sat a number of women singing drunken songs,
+and among these women sat one pale as a ghost, and this one was Jane!
+
+Ah! poor child! Of what terrible machination was she the victim?
+
+Benedetto, who required her as a tool for his vengeance, had carried her
+through the subterranean passage, she all the time entirely unconscious.
+He laid her on a sofa, and stood with folded arms looking down upon her.
+Did he feel the smallest emotion of pity? No, not he! He was only asking
+himself if the girl was so attractive that Esperance would really feel
+her loss as much as his enemies wished. Suddenly she sighed--a long,
+strange, fluttering sigh. Benedetto leaned over her anxiously. What if
+she were to die now! He must hasten. Everything had been arranged. He
+opened her teeth with the blade of a knife, and poured down her throat a
+few drops of a clear white liquor. It was an anesthetic whose terrible
+properties he well understood. Jane would see, Jane would hear, and Jane
+would suffer, but as she could neither speak nor move--all resistance
+would be impossible. And, that night she was carried to the house at
+Courberrie, what terrible agony she suffered! She knew that she was in
+the power of an enemy, that she had been torn from him whom she loved
+better than life, and from whose lips she had just heard oaths of
+eternal fidelity. With a heart swelling with agony she could not utter a
+sound. Her soul was alive, but her body was motionless. Suddenly the
+room in which she lay was brilliantly illuminated. A crowd of women came
+pouring in--and such women! My readers who remember Jane's past can
+readily imagine that the girl regarded this scene as a hideous dream.
+She even fancied that she saw her mother.
+
+Esperance beheld all this. He rushed forward, only to be stopped by iron
+bars.
+
+This terrible scene had been most adroitly managed. The house at
+Courberrie belonged to Danglars, and had been the scene of many ignoble
+orgies. The opening through which Esperance looked was not more than
+thirty feet from Jane. He called, but she could not hear him. Then all
+was suddenly dark. The lights returned in a few minutes, and Jane was
+seen alone.
+
+"Jane! Jane!" cried Esperance. Suddenly a door opened. Esperance saw an
+old man enter the room. He went up to Jane with a hideous smile on his
+face. It was Laisangy.
+
+Of all the crimes that Benedetto had committed, this was the most
+infamous!
+
+Esperance caught the iron bars and shook them violently, and with such
+enormous strength that one of them was loosened. Esperance passed
+through them and stood in a corridor, but there was a sheet of plate
+glass still between him and Jane. This glass he broke with his clenched
+hands, and Esperance sprang at the throat of Danglars and threw him to
+the other end of the room. Then, taking Jane in his arms, he cried:
+
+"Jane! my beloved--do you not hear me? I am Monte-Cristo."
+
+"Monte-Cristo!" repeated a hoarse voice.
+
+Esperance half turned.
+
+Danglars had staggered up from the floor, and was gazing at Esperance
+with eyes fairly starting from his head. With his deadly pallor and a
+gash on his cheek from the glass through which he had passed, Esperance
+bore a striking resemblance to his father. He looked as Dantès looked
+the day his infamous companion betrayed him at Marseilles. Danglars was
+appalled.
+
+"Edmond Dantès!" he cried in agony, raising his arms high above his
+head, and wildly clutching the air for support. Then he fell forward on
+his face in an attack of apoplexy.
+
+Esperance laid Jane again on the sofa, and ran to his assistance. He
+lifted him from the floor. The banker was dead.
+
+Esperance was as if stunned. The strange events, coming one after the
+other, affected his reason. He believed himself the victim of a hideous
+nightmare. He heard a sigh and turned back to Jane, who seemed to be
+trying to throw off the stupor that had weighed her down. The effect of
+the narcotic was probably passing off. She raised her hands and pressed
+them to her forehead. Esperance forgot everything else, and falling at
+Jane's feet he cried, in an agony of entreaty.
+
+"Oh! Jane, awake! I must take you from this terrible place. Jane,
+awake!"
+
+The girl's eyes moved.
+
+"Who speaks my name?" she whispered.
+
+"It is I--I, who loves--Esperance!"
+
+Jane opened her eyes quickly.
+
+"Esperance! Oh! not here--it must not be!"
+
+She began to sob convulsively.
+
+"I know all, my beloved!" he answered, soothingly, "I know the snare
+that was laid for you. But why do you repel me, dearest?"
+
+"Ah! you do not know," she said, amid her sobs. "Those women--those
+songs. Ah! let me die!"
+
+"No, do not say that! We are surrounded by enemies, but I fear them not.
+Come, we must leave this place."
+
+But, with her brain still excited by opium, she continued to resist.
+
+"Jane, you know me?--I am Esperance. Let us fly, and find our happiness
+together. Jane--dear Jane!"
+
+His voice was so tender and so persuasive that suddenly the
+terror-stricken expression left the girl's face. She placed her hands on
+his shoulder, and contemplated him in a sort of ecstasy.
+
+"Yes, I remember. Esperance, how I love you!"
+
+At this instant, like a chorus behind the scenes, there came the shouts
+of ribald laughter. She fell on the floor, crying: "Alas! alas! I am
+accursed!"
+
+The door of the room was thrown open, and a man entered. This man was
+Benedetto.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LXV.
+
+THE MYSTERIOUS SIGNALS.
+
+
+Having played his little comedy with consummate skill, Coucon hastened
+to the carriage he had kept waiting, and drove to the Hôtel de
+Monte-Cristo. He was in such haste to inform Goutran that he had
+successfully fulfilled his mission, that he forgot to disembarrass
+himself of his fancy costume, so that when he appeared before Madame
+Caraman, the good woman uttered a cry of terror.
+
+"It is only I--Coucon."
+
+Madame protested against his selecting a time like this to indulge in a
+masquerade.
+
+"It is nothing of the kind," answered Coucon, impatiently. "Where is
+Monsieur Goutran?"
+
+"I have not seen the gentlemen since you went out."
+
+"Then they must be in Miss Jane's room still?"
+
+"I suppose so."
+
+"We will go there at once, then."
+
+But the Zouave was interrupted by a strange sound like that made by a
+heavy hammer at some distance.
+
+Madame turned pale.
+
+"You know, Coucon, that I am not a coward, but I tell you I can't make
+out that sound. I have heard it now for some time."
+
+"It seems to come from the cellar."
+
+"Yes, that is what I think. But let us tell the friends."
+
+They by this time had reached Jane's door, on which they knocked. No
+reply. Then, after knocking and listening, Madame said:
+
+"We must go in!"
+
+She opened the door, and both uttered a cry on finding the chamber
+empty. The iron panel had closed, and no one would have suspected its
+existence.
+
+Coucon could not believe his eyes. He ran through every room, but those
+they sought had vanished. They had not gone out of the hôtel, for Madame
+had guarded it.
+
+"Well!" cried Coucon, "vanished like Miss Jane, like the Vicomte
+Esperance!"
+
+Hark! Again they heard the strange noise.
+
+Coucon, born and bred in Paris, had read many novels and seen many
+plays. He at once announced that the house they were in had subterranean
+passages.
+
+"But there are no doors."
+
+"What of that!"
+
+He dashed from the room, and came back with hammer and chisel!
+
+"What are you going to do?"
+
+"Demolish the house, if necessary."
+
+Madame wrung her hands.
+
+"We shall be forgiven if we make mistakes," said Coucon. "We can do only
+our best."
+
+And Coucon began to tear up the carpet, and then to sound the boards.
+
+"Above," he said, looking up, "are the bath rooms, and I think we had
+best begin by pulling down the hangings on the wall."
+
+"Oh! that is wicked!"
+
+It was of no use to argue, the Zouave had made up his mind, and he
+ripped off the silk as if it had been old cotton. Madame, fired by his
+example, went to work also. While they were thus frantically busy, the
+door-bell rang.
+
+"It is Miss Carmen," cried Coucon. "She may be able to tell us
+something."
+
+He hastened to the door. It was Carmen, as he had supposed.
+
+"My friends," she said, "where is Goutran?"
+
+"I do not know," was the reply.
+
+"I will tell you, then. He, with Monsieur Fanfar are prisoners in this
+house."
+
+"What did I tell you!" shouted Coucon. "And now, listen--the noise has
+begun again."
+
+Seizing the hammer, Coucon struck three hard blows on the walls at
+regular intervals. He waited and listened. Three blows answered him. He
+struck again, varying the number, which were immediately repeated.
+
+"Yes, it is plain. Our friends hear us, and wish to communicate with us.
+But hark! they have begun." Twenty-five blows were struck, one after the
+other, in quick succession. The three looked at each other, greatly
+troubled.
+
+"The twenty-five letters of the alphabet!" cried Madame.
+
+"Yes," said Carmen, "repeat, to prove that you understand."
+
+After repeated experiments it was found that communication was easy, and
+Carmen spelled out:
+
+"There is an iron door under the silk."
+
+"I knew it!" Coucon exclaimed, "I had began to tear it off when you
+came."
+
+They pulled off the silk, and suddenly Coucon exclaimed:
+
+"Here is the door!" Without well knowing what he was doing, Coucon
+pressed the knob, and the panel flew open so quickly that Coucon was
+nearly knocked over. "Take the light and come!" he shouted.
+
+Carmen snatched the candelabra, and they passed through the door.
+
+It will be remembered what happened when Goutran and his friends entered
+the passage. When their feet touched the stairs the panel closed. In
+fact, a secret mechanism connected the first stair with the iron door.
+Those who did not know it became prisoners at once, while others simply
+stepped over this stair, and so left the iron panel open. But neither
+Coucon nor the others knew this. Down went Coucon's foot in the wrong
+place, and the panel swung to. At the same moment Fanfar, Goutran and
+Bobichel appeared. They had been guided by the light.
+
+"Goutran!" cried Carmen, running toward him.
+
+"What! is it you who has delivered us?"
+
+They went back all together, to find themselves prisoners? No, for
+Coucon had dropped the hammer, which accidentally fell in the aperture,
+thus preventing the door from closing entirely when the spring on the
+stair was touched. They were saved!
+
+In Jane's room they held a consultation. Carmen communicated what she
+had heard, and showed the note she had taken from Laisangy.
+
+"But where is the place he speaks of?" asked Fanfar.
+
+"I can show you," she said, quietly.
+
+Coucon ran to the stables, and in ten minutes the carriage stood at the
+door.
+
+"Heaven grant that we arrive in time!" said Fanfar.
+
+Alas! it was a vain hope. Much time had been lost while the three men
+had been shut up. Their candles had burned out. Fanfar tore a rail from
+the stairs and began to sound the wall, and suddenly they heard
+themselves answered, but all the time they were at a loss to understand
+how they had been able to establish such prompt communication. But this
+was no time for explanation. All they now thought of was Esperance. The
+carriage was driven at full speed toward Courberrie.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LXVI.
+
+UNITED IN DEATH.
+
+
+Benedetto entered. He was now the escaped convict, neither more nor
+less. On his lips was a hideous smile. He had attained his aim at
+last--he had in his power the son of the man whom he hated, and revenge
+was sweet.
+
+Esperance held Jane in his arms, and merely turned his head toward
+Benedetto.
+
+"Who are you?" he cried. "I know you not, but if you are not the basest
+of the base, you will aid me to make my escape from this terrible place,
+and enable me to take this poor child with me."
+
+"No, sir!" answered Benedetto, slowly. "I will not aid you to escape,
+and you will not save this woman."
+
+"Ah! I understand you. You are the accomplice of these scoundrels. Very
+well; I will make a way for myself."
+
+He drew his revolvers from his pocket, and pointed one at Benedetto.
+
+"Move!" he cried, "or I will kill you as I would a dog!"
+
+"You would commit murder then, would you?"
+
+"No--it would be simple self-protection. I am not your prisoner, and
+this woman ought to be sacred to you."
+
+"This woman," said Benedetto, "tells you she comes here not of her own
+free will. Do you believe her?"
+
+"Jane! answer him, my beloved! Tell him he lies!"
+
+Benedetto started back.
+
+"Jane Zeld," he said, "tell the absolute truth. Tell the Vicomte if you
+consider yourself worthy of him." Jane turned her weary eyes upon the
+Vicomte. "Tell him if the daughter of the Lyons outcast has any right to
+lean on the arm of the Vicomte de Monte-Cristo. Jane Zeld, think of the
+past. Tell this gentleman who your mother was. Tell him where she died."
+
+"No, no!" cried Jane. "Enough! enough!"
+
+"No, it is not enough. Lead the Vicomte to your mother's tomb and there
+place your hand in his, if you dare!"
+
+"Be silent!" cried Esperance, who felt himself growing mad.
+
+"But this is not all," continued Benedetto. "Jane Zeld, shall I tell the
+Vicomte the name of your father?"
+
+"I know it not!"
+
+"Have you forgotten the man who took you from a wretched house at the
+time of your mother's death? This man was Sanselme, the former
+priest--Sanselme, the former convict, and your father! And now, Vicomte,
+will you kill me? Do so, if you dare!"
+
+Jane fell back, fainting.
+
+"She is dead!" cried Esperance. "Ah! coward and assassin, I will have
+your life for this. Have you arms? I wish you to have some chance."
+
+Benedetto threw aside the mantle he wore and showed two swords, one of
+which he threw at the feet of Esperance.
+
+Yes, he had long craved this duel, and, sure of his ability, felt that
+he had to do with a mere boy.
+
+Esperance seized the sword, and went up to Benedetto.
+
+"You have insulted me," he said, gravely, "in insulting this woman who
+is dearer to me than life itself; it matters little who you are, prepare
+to die."
+
+This room was a singular duelling ground, but Esperance cared little for
+that. His pulse beat no more quickly than usual. He had greatly changed
+in the last few hours. He felt himself elevated to the dignity of
+chastisement.
+
+The two antagonists stood on guard. There was a moment of profound
+silence. In a mural painting on the walls of a German cathedral, two men
+stand like this, and a little distance off, half hidden behind a tree,
+is the figure of Death.
+
+Esperance was perfectly cool, but Benedetto saw after two or three
+passes that he had no boy antagonist. Calling together all his resources
+he made a lunge. His antagonist returned it, and grazed Benedetto's
+breast.
+
+At this moment Jane revived. "Courage, Esperance, courage!" she
+murmured.
+
+The young man heard her voice, and the contest was renewed. Ten times
+did the sword of Esperance menace the heart of Benedetto, ten times did
+the scoundrel escape death. But he began to feel afraid. The sword of
+the son of Monte-Cristo flashed and gleamed before his eyes like the
+fiery sword of the Bible. Esperance was gaining the advantage, and a cry
+of rage escaped the panting breast of Benedetto. Was it possible that
+after all, his vengeance was about to slip through his fingers? And was
+he to die instead of Monte-Cristo's son! He recoiled further and
+further, feeling that the sword of his opponent would pin him to the
+wall.
+
+Monte-Cristo's son said to him, "Scoundrel! your life is in my power.
+Repent of the evil you have done, and I will show you mercy."
+
+"Mercy!" sneered Benedetto. "You talk of mercy. Take care, I hate you! I
+hate your father. Hasten to take my life or I swear that I will take
+yours!"
+
+"Die then!" cried Esperance.
+
+And with a rapid movement of his sword he disarmed his adversary; his
+blade was about to enter Benedetto's breast when the report of a pistol
+was heard, and Esperance, shot through the heart, fell by Jane's side.
+She threw herself on his body with cries of despair. Benedetto, with an
+infernal smile, turned away with a pistol in his hand.
+
+It will be remembered that Esperance in his righteous anger had aimed
+his pistols at Benedetto, but the thought of a murder in this upright
+soul was but a passing one, and when he drew his sword he laid down his
+pistols upon a chair near him.
+
+At the moment when Benedetto felt that all was lost his eyes fell an the
+arms, and an infernal thought struck him. He gradually approached the
+chair, and finally, with a sudden movement, snatched one of the
+revolvers. The scoundrel had murdered his adversary. Esperance fell and
+Jane encircled him with her arms.
+
+Benedetto frowningly looked on. He had at last achieved his object.
+Unable to injure the man he hated, he had wounded him through his son,
+his only child!
+
+"Farewell," sighed Esperance, "I love thee, Jane, but I am dying!"
+
+"And I die with you!" answered Jane, with paling lips.
+
+And as if the angel of death touched them both at the same time, they
+slept in eternal night.
+
+Benedetto did not move. Suddenly he started. Loud noises were heard at
+the door of the deserted house.
+
+"We are here, Esperance! We bring you aid!" voices called in cheering
+tones.
+
+Benedetto looked about like a wild boar at bay. Every issue was cut off.
+He knew that he had no pity to expect, for when these men beheld him
+here with his two victims they would take his life without the smallest
+hesitation. He rushed to the window and opened it; the Seine ran dark at
+his feet.
+
+Benedetto waited until Fanfar and his friends entered the room, and
+then crying out to them, "You are too late! I have killed the son of
+Monte-Cristo!" leaped into the river.
+
+Goutran rushed to Esperance, and lifting him in his arms, said
+despairingly: "Dead! murdered!"
+
+And in the presence of these two young creatures so beautiful in death,
+the men uncovered their bowed heads and Carmen knelt in passionate
+weeping.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLVII.
+
+THE SPECTRE.
+
+
+Just as Benedetto leaped into the Seine, another man entered the room
+where the victims lay. This man was Sanselme.
+
+It will be remembered that the former convict had been present at the
+conversation in which Fanfar and his companions resolved to rescue
+Esperance. The sick man, unable to move, still down with fever, saw them
+go.
+
+The mad woman also remained in the room, saying over and over again:
+"Benedetto is my son, my son, and he killed me!" While Sanselme repeated
+Jane's name without cessation. By degrees his strength returned to him,
+his nerves were all in a quiver.
+
+Jane in danger and he lying there idle! No, no, that could not be! He
+rose from the bed, and supporting himself by the wall, got out of the
+house. Where was he going? He knew not. He endeavored to collect his
+thoughts, and suddenly a name stood out clear in his brain.
+Monte-Cristo, yes it was to the hôtel of Monte-Cristo that he must go.
+There, at all events, he should find Fanfar, and together they would
+look for Jane. At first Sanselme could hardly walk, but his tread became
+gradually firmer. Just as he reached the Hôtel de Monte-Cristo, he saw
+the carriage drive out of the court-yard.
+
+A strange phenomenon now took place. Sanselme drew a long breath and
+began to run after the carriage--he felt no more lassitude nor weakness.
+His entire vital strength was concentrated in his superhuman effort. And
+this man who just now could not hold himself erect, ran on swiftly
+without hesitation. With his eyes on the carriage lamps he followed them
+unerringly. Somnambulists and madmen alone do such things. And Sanselme
+ran as if he were in a dream. He saw the carriage stop at last, and he
+heard violent blows upon a door. And then he entered as well as the
+others, and appeared on the scene just as Benedetto leaped from the
+window.
+
+Sanselme beheld Jane, and in that moment of agony his broken, bleeding
+heart loosed its grasp upon his secret, for he cried out:
+
+"Jane! my daughter! My beloved daughter!"
+
+Fanfar instantly understood the truth and laid his hand compassionately
+on his shoulder.
+
+"Courage!" he said, gently.
+
+But Sanselme shook off the hand, and before any one knew what he meant
+to do, he climbed upon the window, crying:
+
+"Benedetto! You shall not escape!"
+
+And he, too, leaped into the water. Benedetto was scarce a minute in
+advance.
+
+Benedetto had made a mistake. He knew of a secret egress from this
+house, but he forgot it, so great was his fear.
+
+Fear? Yes. For the first time in his life he had made an attack on
+Monte-Cristo, and in spite of his audacity, knew perfectly well that
+the mere presence of the Count would cause him to tremble with fear. He
+did not wish to die, and therefore fled by the first path that presented
+itself. And after all, to swim the Seine was a trifle to the former
+_forçat_. He was strong and a good swimmer, but the height from which he
+sprang was so great that at first he was almost stunned. The water was
+icy cold. He first thought of climbing again to the same shore, but his
+adversaries might be watching and he might fall into their hands; while
+on the other bank the forest of Neuilly offered him a sure refuge. He
+therefore swam across. The current was strong, but he and Sanselme had
+known a worse and heavier sea when they escaped from Toulon. It was
+strange, the persistency with which this name returned to him. At this
+same moment he heard a dull noise behind him as if some one leaped into
+the water. Could it be that one of his enemies had started in pursuit?
+He found that he was making little progress and that his strength was
+going. He allowed himself to float for a few minutes, and in the silence
+felt convinced that some one was pursuing him. But what nonsense it was
+in such darkness to make such an attempt. Benedetto now allowed himself
+to be carried on by the current, crossing the river obliquely, and
+managed to make no noise whatever as he swam. And yet as he listened he
+heard the same sound behind him at about the same distance. And now
+Benedetto beheld the shore. In a few minutes he would be safe, and when
+on firm ground he could look out for himself. He sneered to himself.
+What nonsense all this talk was of punishment for crime. He had managed
+to escape so far! Finally he stood on the shore. He heard a cry from the
+water. He understood it. It came from his pursuer, who was now near
+enough to see that his prey had escaped him. He was right.
+
+Sanselme had not lost sight of Benedetto, and had felt sure of catching
+him; but he had been struck on the shoulder by a piece of floating wood.
+The pain was excessive, and he lost his power of swimming. In this
+moment Benedetto escaped him. He could dimly see his form on the shore,
+and then the man's shadow was lost in the shadow of the woods. Sanselme
+uttered a groan. This man had killed Jane, and would now go unpunished.
+Up to this moment the former convict had been sustained by unnatural
+strength, but now this strength was gone. He could do no more and
+believed himself to be dying. Suddenly he felt something within reach of
+the hands with which he was beating the water like a drowning dog. It
+was a rope. A schooner had been wrecked here and a rope was hanging from
+its broken hull. Sanselme clung to it with the energy of despair, and by
+it raised himself on board the schooner and fell on the deck utterly
+exhausted, morally and physically.
+
+Suddenly he uttered a wild cry. He had been looking intently at the spot
+where he had seen Benedetto disappear. He saw the man's shadow again,
+but it was not alone. With it was something white, that looked like a
+spectre. And the spectre was gliding over the ground in the direction of
+the wreck on which Sanselme was crouching.
+
+What was it? One form was certainly Benedetto's; but the spectre--was it
+anything more than the fog that rises at dawn along the riverside? Not
+so--it was a phantom; the terrible resurrection of the Past.
+
+Benedetto had run toward the wood, believing that there he would be
+safe. Suddenly his heart stood still, for before him rose a tall form
+draped in white, like a winding-sheet. This man was a coward at heart,
+and had been all his life afraid of ghosts. But he encouraged himself
+now, saying that it was mist from the river, which a breath of wind
+would dissipate. Summoning all his courage, he stopped and went toward
+this strange form. It was a form and not mist; but its height looked
+unnatural as it stood leaning against a tree. Why did not Benedetto turn
+aside, either to the right or the left? He could not; something stronger
+than his will drew him toward the nameless Thing. Finally Benedetto laid
+his hand on the shoulder of the Thing. It turned and lifted its head.
+Then an appalling shriek, which was like nothing human, came from
+Benedetto's lips. This spectre was that of his mother, whom he had
+stabbed in the breast at Beausset so many years before. And the ghost
+stood gazing at him with her large eyes, while her gray tresses floated
+in the wind.
+
+Benedetto did not seek to understand. He believed that the dead had
+risen from the tomb. She looked at him for a full minute. Then she said:
+
+"Come, Benedetto; come, my son."
+
+And the long, skeleton-like hand was laid on the parricide's wrist with
+such an icy pressure that Benedetto felt as if a steel ring were being
+riveted on his arm.
+
+"Come, my son," said the mad woman; "you will never leave me again, will
+you?"
+
+She drew him gently along as he walked. He did not attempt to disengage
+himself; he obeyed the summons as if it were from Death.
+
+The phantom--that is to say, Madame Danglars, the poor, insane
+creature--had escaped from Fanfar's house by the door which Sanselme
+left open, and having found her son thus strangely, lavished on him
+tender words, which in the ear of the dastard were like curses. Thus
+they reached the shore, and it was not until Benedetto saw the Seine
+once more before him that he realized what he was doing. He shook off
+the hand on his wrist and began to run. He saw the wreck a foot or two
+from the shore, and with one leap he reached it, having little idea of
+the danger that awaited him there. The mad woman followed him and tried
+to put her arms around him. "You shall never leave me again, Benedetto!"
+she murmured.
+
+Sanselme saw and heard it all. It seemed to him that it was some
+frightful nightmare. She advancing and Benedetto retreating, the two
+reached the other end of the wreck; their feet slipped, there was a dull
+sound as they fell, and the water opened to receive them. Sanselme
+leaned over. He could see nothing, and heard not another sound.
+
+In the morning a corpse was found leaning over the gunwale, with eyes
+open. One sailor said to another:
+
+"A drunken man the less in the world!"
+
+That was the only funeral sermon preached over Sanselme.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LXVIII.
+
+MONTE-CRISTO, THE MARTYR.
+
+
+In the Hôtel de Monte-Cristo all is sad and silent. The very walls and
+the furniture had a funereal air. In the large chamber lie the bodies of
+Jane and Esperance, the son of Monte-Cristo. How much beauty, youth and
+tenderness were to be swallowed up in Mother Earth! Jane, vailed in
+lace, had a tender smile upon her lips. Esperance, in his serene repose,
+was the image of Monte-Cristo in his early days.
+
+Near the bed were two men watching--Fanfar, the faithful friend of the
+Count, who had saved him and his son at Ouargla; Goutran, the companion
+of Esperance, who knew the greatness of that young soul. The two sat in
+silence, and hardly dared look at each other. They were both oppressed
+with remorse.
+
+Monte-Cristo had gone away, obeying a sentiment of delicacy, wishing to
+leave his son in entire liberty to develop in such direction as his
+nature demanded. But when he went he said to these men, "I confide to
+you the one treasure that I have in the world--watch over him."
+
+And they had made answer that they would protect him from harm with
+their lives. They were living and Esperance was dead. They heard in
+their ears like the tolling of a funeral bell, the words, "Too late!
+Too late!" If they had arrived in time they would certainly have
+prevented the catastrophe, but this was the result--this motionless form
+with hands crossed on his breast.
+
+Coucon and Madame Caraman, down stairs, were weeping and watching.
+
+Fanfar and Goutran were silent, as we have said, for the same question
+was upon the lips of both men, and both knew that there was no answer.
+Had not the Count said, "If any peril demands my presence summon me, and
+within three days I will be with you." And it would be precisely three
+days at midnight since Fanfar sent the summons.
+
+Would he come? The clock struck half-past eleven, and no Monte-Cristo.
+Must they then lay in the grave the mortal remains of the son of
+Monte-Cristo without a farewell kiss on the pale brow from his father?
+They felt as if it were another wrong of which they would be guilty
+toward this unhappy father.
+
+Fanfar was buried in thought. He saw Esperance, when almost a child he
+defied the Arabs. He saw him borne in his father's arms from Maldar's
+Tower. And Goutran, too, thought of the last words that the Vicomte had
+said to him: "To love is to give one's self entirely, in life and in
+death!"
+
+The lamps burned dimly. The clock struck twelve. The two men started,
+for the door opened noiselessly and a man of tall stature entered. It
+was the Count of Monte-Cristo. His eyes were dim, his shoulders bowed,
+and his steps awakened no echo. He was dressed in black.
+
+The two men did not move nor speak. They seemed to feel that no human
+voice should break this awful stillness.
+
+Monte-Cristo walked to the side of the bed and looked at his son, long
+and steadily. What thoughts were hidden in that active brain?
+
+And now Fanfar beheld a terrible, unheard-of thing. When Monte-Cristo
+entered, his hair was black as night, and as he stood there his hair
+began to whiten. What terrible torture that man must have undergone in
+those minutes. Age, which had made no mark on this organization of iron,
+suddenly took possession of it. First, his temples looked as if light
+snow was thrown upon it, and then by degrees the whole head became
+white. Those who saw this sight will never forget it.
+
+Monte-Cristo bent low over the bier on which Esperance lay. He took his
+son in his arms as a mother lifts her child from the cradle, and bearing
+the body Monte-Cristo left the room.
+
+Suddenly shaking off the torpor which had held them motionless, Fanfar
+and Goutran started in pursuit. But in vain did they search the hôtel,
+Monte-Cristo had vanished with the body of his son.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LXIX.
+
+EPILOGUE.
+
+
+A man stood on a solitary rock. Suddenly he uttered a shout of triumph.
+
+He had discovered the secret of immense wealth. And this man threw down
+the pickaxe in his hand and standing erect, cried aloud:
+
+"Oh! you whose infamy condemned me to fourteen years of imprisonment,
+and whose name I do not yet know, beware! Dantès is free."
+
+Young and with confidence in the future, Edmond Dantès, the lover of
+Mercédès, returned to Marseilles, with the promise of a captaincy. He
+was to marry Mercédès. It was at supper on the evening of the betrothal
+when soldiers came to arrest him. He was accused of having carried
+letters to Napoleon, at Elba. In vain did he assert and even prove his
+innocence before de Villefort, a magistrate. Edmond Dantès was torn from
+his betrothed, and imprisoned for fourteen years in the Château d'If.
+
+Another prisoner was there, the Abbé Faria. This prisoner was supposed
+to be mad, because he had offered to buy his liberty with millions. The
+Abbé imparted to Dantès the secret of the treasure concealed by the
+Spadas in the caverns of the island of Monte-Cristo, a desolate rock in
+the Mediterranean. And this was not all, the old man had also imparted
+other secrets to his young companion.
+
+And now Dantès was master of the treasure of the Spadas, and he started
+to find his old father and his fiancée. He swore to avenge himself on
+those who had betrayed him. He left the rock. He went to his father's
+house. His father had died of hunger. Mercédès, his fiancée, was married
+to another--to one of the three men who had woven the plot that had cost
+Dantès fourteen years of his youth. One was named Danglars, a rival
+claimant to the title of captain. The second was a drunken man, more
+weak than wicked. The third was Fernando Mondego, a fisherman, who loved
+Mercédès. And it was this Fernando who had married Mercédès, and was now
+known by the title of the Comte de Morcerf. Caderousse, still poor, kept
+a wine shop, and Danglars was one of the first bankers in Paris.
+
+Another enemy, and perhaps the most infamous of them all, was the
+magistrate, de Villefort, who, knowing the innocence of Dantès, had
+nevertheless sentenced him to prison. Because Dantès in his explanation
+used the name of Noirtier, who was the father of Villefort, and said
+that the letters he brought from the island of Elba were given to him by
+this man, de Villefort, lest his own position should be compromised, got
+rid of this person as soon as possible, and sent him to the Château d'If
+for fourteen years.
+
+These were the crimes that Dantès swore to punish. He did so. Danglars
+the banker he ruined. Fernando the fisherman, known when Dantès returned
+as the Comte de Morcerf, was accused in the Chamber of Peers of having
+betrayed Ali-Pacha of Jamna, and of selling his daughter Haydée to a
+Turkish merchant. His infamy was proved by Haydée herself, and Fernando
+Mondego was for ever dishonored. The wretched man, knowing that the blow
+came from Monte-Cristo, went to him to provoke a quarrel. Then
+Monte-Cristo said to him:
+
+"Look me full in the face, Fernando, and you will understand the whole.
+I am Edmond Dantès." And the man fled. Within an hour he blew out his
+brains.
+
+Then came the turn of de Villefort. His wife, a perverse creature, to
+ensure an inheritance to her son, committed several murders with
+poisons. De Villefort himself had buried a child alive, the child of
+Madame Danglars and himself. But the child was saved by a Corsican,
+Bertuccio. The child, born of crime, had the most criminal instincts.
+And one day Monte-Cristo found him in the prison at Toulon. He named him
+Benedetto. He assisted him to escape, and Benedetto assassinated
+Caderousse. And then Benedetto, tried for this murder, found himself
+face to face with his father Villefort, the Procureur de Roi. Benedetto
+loudly flung his father's crimes in his face, and Villefort fled from
+the court-room. When he reached home Villefort found that his wife had
+poisoned herself and his son, the only being he loved. And then
+Monte-Cristo appeared before him and told him his real name, Edmond
+Dantès! Villefort became insane.
+
+And the work of vengeance was complete. Monte-Cristo was so rich that he
+was all-powerful. And yet he was terribly sad, for he was alone. Then
+it was that the gentle Haydée consoled him. To their son they gave the
+name of Esperance. And Haydée was dead! Esperance was dead!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Ten years had elapsed since that awful night when Monte-Cristo, with
+blanched hair, carried away the body of his only son.
+
+A man stood alone on a rock on the island of Monte-Cristo. And this man
+was Edmond Dantès. For ten years he had lived on this rock. In all that
+time he had not seen a human face nor heard a human voice, except at
+rare intervals when some ship, driven from her course by contrary winds,
+sent her boats to this island for water. Then Monte-Cristo, concealing
+himself, watched these men and heard their joyous laughter.
+
+Once, when Monte-Cristo had been on the rock eight years, he saw a ship
+coming toward it at full sail. It was not driven there by contrary winds
+or by a storm, and Monte-Cristo saw a man on deck surveying the island
+through a glass. Concealing himself he saw several men, whom he did not
+know, land, and search the island.
+
+It will be remembered that long before, Ali and Bertuccio had, by their
+master's orders, blown up the grottos, the last vestiges of the Spada
+treasures.
+
+He saw these men sound the rocks and try them with pickaxes. They were
+adventurers, who knew something of what the island had contained, but
+yet they found nothing. Monte-Cristo contrived to get near them without
+their knowledge. They were disputing, one insisting that the treasure
+was "there," and he laid his finger on a plan he had drawn.
+
+"Have you not heard," said the other, "that the island was inhabited?"
+
+"Sailors say that they often see at sunset a tall form on these rocks."
+
+"An optical delusion."
+
+"No--these sailors know what they say, but Italians are inclined to
+carry their religion into everything, so they call this form the Abbé of
+Monte-Cristo."
+
+"We have not found him, and yet we have searched every corner."
+
+"He may be dead."
+
+"That may be, but surely this is a proof that no such treasures ever
+existed here, for if they had, he would not remain here to die of
+hunger!"
+
+"At all events we will make a sacrifice to the unknown God, as the
+ancients did."
+
+And they put together all the provisions they had--bread, fruit and
+wine--and with the point of a dagger they traced on the rock the words:
+
+"For the Abbé of Monte-Cristo!"
+
+Then they departed.
+
+"Poor fools!" said the Count, as he watched the fast lessening sails.
+"No, there is no treasure on this island save one, and that would be
+valueless to you!"
+
+Monte-Cristo had lived all these years on roots and bark, for he had
+sworn never to touch money again while he lived.
+
+On the night when we again find Monte-Cristo, he came down from the high
+rock by a narrow path which led to a platform. Here he stooped and
+turned over a flat stone, which left a dark cavity exposed. Into this
+place Monte-Cristo descended by steps cut in the rock. He reached a
+square room cut out of the granite. In the centre stood a marble
+sarcophagus, and there lay Esperance. The living was paler than the
+dead. Monte-Cristo laid his hand on that of his son.
+
+"Esperance," he said, solemnly, "has not the day arrived?"
+
+There was a long silence. Then--was it a reality? It seemed as if the
+lips moved and pronounced the word:
+
+"Come!"
+
+Monte-Cristo smiled.
+
+"I knew it!" he murmured.
+
+His face was transfigured, his white hair was like a halo about his
+head.
+
+"I am coming, my son!" he said. "I must first finish my task."
+
+He drew from his pocket a roll of parchment, and read it aloud:
+
+
+  "MY LAST WILL AND TESTAMENT.
+
+  "Let those who find this paper read it with coolness. Let them be on
+  their guard against the surprises of their imagination. The man who is
+  about to die, and whose name is signed to these lines, has been more
+  powerful than the most powerful on earth. He has suffered as never man
+  suffered. He has loved as never man loved! He has hated as well.
+
+  "Suffering, love and hatred have all passed away--all is forgotten,
+  all is dead within him except the memory of the child he adored and
+  lost.
+
+  "This man possessed wealth greater than any sovereign. And this man
+  dies in poverty. He so willed it that he might punish himself. He
+  chose the wrong. He wished to bend all wills to his. He elected
+  himself judge and meted out punishment. The wrongs he avenged were not
+  social evils, they were private and his own. He bows low in penitence,
+  that he did not employ his great fortune in doing good. He dies in
+  poverty, though possessed of untold millions. He designates no heir,
+  for he cannot feel that the most upright man may not become guilty
+  when he knows himself to be all-powerful. He has, however, no right to
+  destroy this wealth. It exists, though concealed. He bequeaths it to
+  that power which men call Providence. It will bear this paper, and
+  place in the hands of man these mysterious signs.
+
+  "Will the treasure be discovered?
+
+  "Whoever reads this paper will, if he be wise, destroy it. And yet it
+  may be that this colossal fortune will fall into the hands of a man
+  who will finish the work that I have begun better than I could have
+  done.
+
+  "May whoever finds this paper heed the last words of a dying man.
+
+  "THE ABBÉ DANTÈS.
+
+  "_February 25th, 1865._"
+
+
+Below this signature was a singular design. Monte-Cristo studied it.
+
+"Yes, it is right," he said. "Ah! Faria, may your treasure fall into
+worthier hands than mine!"
+
+He felt strangely faint. He laid his hand on his heart. "Yes,
+Esperance," he said, softly, "I come!"
+
+He took up a crystal cube, which was solid enough to resist a shock of
+any kind. He folded the paper, and placed it in the cube, sealing it
+carefully. Then once more he ascended the stairs, and stood under the
+starlit sky.
+
+Monte-Cristo went down to the shore. He raised the crystal cube above
+his head, and threw it with all his strength. He heard it drop into the
+water. Monte-Cristo's secret was given to the waves. Then he turned, and
+slowly retraced his steps.
+
+As he went down the stairs his strength seemed to leave him. He lay down
+next to Esperance. He crossed his arms on his breast. Upon his lips was
+a smile of ineffable peace. His eyes closed. He was at rest.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Those who loved him often utter his name, and wipe away a tear as they
+speak of him. But they never knew where he, who was known as Edmond
+Dantès, Count of Monte-Cristo, died.
+
+
+THE END
+
+
+
+
+Transcriber's Note: Spelling, accents and punctuation have been
+changed for consistency. Variations in the use of hyphens have
+been retained as in the original. The unexpected use of Nechar,
+perhaps instead of Necker, and Ali-Pacha of Jamna, perhaps
+instead of Ali Pasha of Janina, also have been retained.
+
+
+
+
+
+End of Project Gutenberg's The Son of Monte Cristo, by Jules Lermina
+
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+    <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=iso-8859-1" />
+    <title>
+      The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Son of Monte-Cristo, by Jules Lermina.
+    </title>
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+<pre>
+
+The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Son of Monte Christo, by Jules Lermina
+
+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 Christo
+
+Author: Jules Lermina
+
+Release Date: August 8, 2008 [EBook #26216]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE SON OF MONTE CHRISTO ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Sigal Alon, Hanna Burdon, Fox in the Stars and
+the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at
+https://www.pgdp.net
+
+
+
+
+
+
+</pre>
+
+
+<div class="mynote"><p>Transcriber's Note: Spelling, accents and punctuation have been
+changed for consistency. Variations in the use of hyphens have
+been retained as in the original. The unexpected use of Nechar,
+perhaps instead of Necker, and Ali-Pacha of Jamna, perhaps
+instead of Ali Pasha of Janina, also have been retained.</p></div>
+
+<hr style="width: 95%;" />
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9"></a></span></p>
+
+<h1><small>THE</small>
+<br />
+<span class="smcap">Son of Monte-Cristo</span>.</h1>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<h3><small>SEQUEL TO</small></h3>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<h2><span class="smcap">The Wife of Monte-Cristo</span>,</h2>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<h3><small>AND END OF THE CONTINUATION TO</small>
+<br />
+ALEXANDER DUMAS' CELEBRATED NOVEL OF</h3>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<h3>"THE COUNT OF MONTE-CRISTO."</h3>
+
+
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p>"<span class="smcap">The Son of Monte-Cristo</span>" stands at the head of all exciting and
+absorbing novels. It is the sequel to "The Wife of Monte-Cristo," and
+the end of the continuation of Alexander Dumas' phenomenal romance of
+"The Count of Monte-Cristo." Like its renowned predecessors, it
+absolutely swarms with thrilling and dramatic incidents and adventures,
+everything being fresh, original and delightful. The spell of
+fascination is cast over the reader in the opening chapter and remains
+unbroken to the end. It deals chiefly with the astounding career of
+Esperance, Monte-Cristo's son, whose heroic devotion to Jane Zeld is one
+of the most touching and romantic love stories ever written. The scenes
+in Algeria have a wild charm, especially the abduction of Esperance and
+his struggle with the Sultan on the oasis in the desert. Hayd&eacute;e's
+experience in the slave mart at Constantinople is particularly stirring
+and realistic, while the episodes in which the Count of Monte-Cristo
+figures are exceedingly graphic. The entire novel is powerful and
+interesting in the extreme. That it will be read by all who have read
+"The Count of Monte-Cristo" and will delight them is certain.</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p class="center"><span class="smcap">New York:</span></p>
+
+<p class="center"><span class="smcap">WM. L. ALLISON COMPANY,</span></p>
+
+<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Publishers.</span></p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10"></a></span></p><p class="center">COPYRIGHT.&mdash;1884.</p>
+
+<p class="center">T. B. PETERSON &amp; BROTHERS.</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><i>"The Son of Monte-Cristo," the sequel to "The Wife of Monte-Cristo,"
+and end of the continuation of Dumas' masterwork, "The Count of
+Monte-Cristo," is in all respects a great novel. Romantic in the highest
+degree, powerful in the widest sense of the term and absorbingly
+interesting, it is a work absolutely without parallel at the present
+day. Every chapter has a strong and stirring feature of its own, while
+all the legions of intensely thrilling incidents are as original and
+surprising as they are strong. The hero is Esperance, the son of the
+Count of Monte-Cristo, who is followed from boyhood to the close of his
+wonderful and unprecedented career. His varied and remarkable adventures
+form a succession of amazing episodes never equalled in fiction, while
+his love for the unfortunate Jane Zeld and the strange complications to
+which it gives rise are depicted in the most fascinating fashion. The
+Count of Monte-Cristo and Hayd&eacute;e also have thrilling adventures, and
+Merc&eacute;d&egrave;s, Benedetto, Sanselme and Danglars, together with Fanfar, again
+appear. The hosts of admirers of "The Count of Monte-Cristo" should read
+"The Son of Monte-Cristo," as well as all who relish a novel of rare
+merit. They will certainly be delighted with it.</i></p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><i>"The Son of Monte-Cristo" stands at the head of all exciting and
+absorbing novels. It is the sequel to "The Wife of Monte-Cristo," and
+the end of the continuation of that phenomenal romance, Alexander Dumas'
+"Count of Monte-Cristo." Like its renowned predecessors, it absolutely
+swarms with thrilling and dramatic incidents and adventures, everything
+being fresh, original and delightful. The spell of fascination is cast
+over the reader in the opening chapter and remains unbroken to the end.
+It deals chiefly with the astounding career of Esperance, Monte-Cristo's
+son, whose heroic devotion to Jane Zeld is one of the most touching and
+romantic love stories ever written. The scenes in Algeria have a wild
+charm, especially the abduction of Esperance and his struggle with the
+Sultan on the oasis in the desert. Hayd&eacute;e's experience in the slave mart
+at Constantinople is particularly stirring and realistic, while the
+episodes in which the Count of Monte-Cristo figures are exceedingly
+graphic. The entire novel is powerful and interesting in the extreme.
+That it will be read by all who have read "The Count of Monte-Cristo"
+and will delight them is certain.</i></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[Pg 11]</a></span></p>
+<h2>CONTENTS.</h2>
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="0" summary="Contents">
+<tr><td align='left'>Chapter.</td>
+<td align='left'></td>
+<td align='left'>Page.</td></tr>
+
+<tr><td align='right'>I.</td>
+<td align='left'>ESPERANCE, THE SON OF MONTE-CRISTO</td>
+<td align='right'><a href='#Page_15'>15</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td align='right'>II.</td>
+<td align='left'>HAYD&Eacute;E, THE WIFE OF MONTE-CRISTO</td>
+<td align='right'><a href='#Page_23'>23</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td align='right'>III.</td>
+<td align='left'>THE COUNT OF MONTE-CRISTO</td>
+<td align='right'><a href='#Page_32'>32</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td align='right'>IV.</td>
+<td align='left'>FANFAR'S ADVENTURES.&mdash;CAIN</td>
+<td align='right'><a href='#Page_38'>38</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td align='right'>V.</td>
+<td align='left'>WHAT PIERRE KNEW</td>
+<td align='right'><a href='#Page_40'>40</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td align='right'>VI.</td>
+<td align='left'>FRATERNAL THOUGHTS</td>
+<td align='right'><a href='#Page_57'>57</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td align='right'>VII.</td>
+<td align='left'>THE VILLAGE</td>
+<td align='right'><a href='#Page_61'>61</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td align='right'>VIII.</td>
+<td align='left'>THE PAST OF FRAN&Ccedil;OISE</td>
+<td align='right'><a href='#Page_71'>71</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td align='right'>IX.</td>
+<td align='left'>WHERE THE INVASION PASSES</td>
+<td align='right'><a href='#Page_76'>76</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td align='right'>X.</td>
+<td align='left'>THE HUT AT OUTREMONT</td>
+<td align='right'><a href='#Page_82'>82</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td align='right'>XI.</td>
+<td align='left'>CHILDREN IN DARKNESS</td>
+<td align='right'><a href='#Page_87'>87</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td align='right'>XII.</td>
+<td align='left'>THE RISING SUN</td>
+<td align='right'><a href='#Page_90'>90</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td align='right'>XIII.</td>
+<td align='left'>MISCHIEF</td>
+<td align='right'><a href='#Page_96'>96</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td align='right'>XIV.</td>
+<td align='left'>TWO PLACES, S. V. P.</td>
+<td align='right'><a href='#Page_102'>102</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td align='right'>XV.</td>
+<td align='left'>MASTER AND SERVANT</td>
+<td align='right'><a href='#Page_107'>107</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td align='right'>XVI.</td>
+<td align='left'>WALK IN, GENTLEMEN!</td>
+<td align='right'><a href='#Page_118'>118</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td align='right'>XVII.</td>
+<td align='left'>ROBECCAL'S IDEA</td>
+<td align='right'><a href='#Page_125'>125</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td align='right'>XVIII.</td>
+<td align='left'>PIERRE LABARRE</td>
+<td align='right'><a href='#Page_133'>133</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td align='right'>XIX.</td>
+<td align='left'>A FIRST MEETING</td>
+<td align='right'><a href='#Page_142'>142</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td align='right'>XX.</td>
+<td align='left'>THIN PARTITIONS</td>
+<td align='right'><a href='#Page_147'>147</a></td></tr>
+
+<!-- <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12"></a></span> -->
+<tr><td align='right'>XXI.</td>
+<td align='left'>THE GRATITUDE OF A MARQUIS</td>
+<td align='right'><a href='#Page_154'>154</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td align='right'>XXII.</td>
+<td align='left'>POOR BOBICHEL</td>
+<td align='right'><a href='#Page_161'>161</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td align='right'>XXIII.</td>
+<td align='left'>FRANCE&mdash;1824</td>
+<td align='right'><a href='#Page_170'>170</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td align='right'>XXIV.</td>
+<td align='left'>THE MARQUISE</td>
+<td align='right'><a href='#Page_180'>180</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td align='right'>XXV.</td>
+<td align='left'>THE VEAU SAUT&Eacute;</td>
+<td align='right'><a href='#Page_188'>188</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td align='right'>XXVI.</td>
+<td align='left'>A MAN CHASE</td>
+<td align='right'><a href='#Page_197'>197</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td align='right'>XXVII.</td>
+<td align='left'>A GHOST</td>
+<td align='right'><a href='#Page_204'>204</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td align='right'>XXVIII.</td>
+<td align='left'>CINETTE! CINETTE!</td>
+<td align='right'><a href='#Page_212'>212</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td align='right'>XXIX.</td>
+<td align='left'>A CONSPIRACY</td>
+<td align='right'><a href='#Page_217'>217</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td align='right'>XXX.</td>
+<td align='left'>MACHIAVELLI &amp; CO.</td>
+<td align='right'><a href='#Page_224'>224</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td align='right'>XXXI.</td>
+<td align='left'>TRIUMPH</td>
+<td align='right'><a href='#Page_229'>229</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td align='right'>XXXII.</td>
+<td align='left'>SURPRISES</td>
+<td align='right'><a href='#Page_233'>233</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td align='right'>XXXIII.</td>
+<td align='left'>FACE TO FACE</td>
+<td align='right'><a href='#Page_237'>237</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td align='right'>XXXIV.</td>
+<td align='left'>LEIGOUTTE</td>
+<td align='right'><a href='#Page_246'>246</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td align='right'>XXXV.</td>
+<td align='left'>THE NEST</td>
+<td align='right'><a href='#Page_258'>258</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td align='right'>XXXVI.</td>
+<td align='left'>SUPREME EFFORT</td>
+<td align='right'><a href='#Page_266'>266</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td align='right'>XXXVII.</td>
+<td align='left'>THE TRIAL</td>
+<td align='right'><a href='#Page_275'>275</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td align='right'>XXXVIII.</td>
+<td align='left'>THE CRISIS</td>
+<td align='right'><a href='#Page_278'>278</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td align='right'>XXXIX.</td>
+<td align='left'>THE AUTOPSY</td>
+<td align='right'><a href='#Page_286'>286</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td align='right'>XL.</td>
+<td align='left'>BETWEEN CHARYBDIS AND SCYLLA</td>
+<td align='right'><a href='#Page_291'>291</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td align='right'>XLI.</td>
+<td align='left'>VIDOCQ, THE CHIEF OF POLICE</td>
+<td align='right'><a href='#Page_296'>296</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td align='right'>XLII.</td>
+<td align='left'>TO THOSE WHO LOVE FANFAR</td>
+<td align='right'><a href='#Page_298'>298</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td align='right'>XLIII.</td>
+<td align='left'>A LETTER FROM MONTE-CRISTO</td>
+<td align='right'><a href='#Page_304'>304</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td align='right'>XLIV.</td>
+<td align='left'>ESPERANCE</td>
+<td align='right'><a href='#Page_307'>307</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td align='right'>XLV.</td>
+<td align='left'>"WHAT WILL HE DO?"</td>
+<td align='right'><a href='#Page_310'>310</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td align='right'>XLVI.</td>
+<td align='left'>FORWARD!</td>
+<td align='right'><a href='#Page_313'>313</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td align='right'>XLVII.</td>
+<td align='left'>JANE ZELD</td>
+<td align='right'><a href='#Page_320'>320</a></td></tr>
+
+<!-- <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13"></a></span> -->
+<tr><td align='right'>XLVIII.</td>
+<td align='left'>A THUNDER CLAP</td>
+<td align='right'><a href='#Page_332'>332</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td align='right'>XLIX.</td>
+<td align='left'>HOW AND WHERE</td>
+<td align='right'><a href='#Page_338'>338</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td align='right'>L.</td>
+<td align='left'>CATASTROPHES</td>
+<td align='right'><a href='#Page_345'>345</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td align='right'>LI.</td>
+<td align='left'>A SHOT FROM A REVOLVER</td>
+<td align='right'><a href='#Page_353'>353</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td align='right'>LII.</td>
+<td align='left'>"WILL JANE ZELD LIVE?"</td>
+<td align='right'><a href='#Page_357'>357</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td align='right'>LIII.</td>
+<td align='left'>JANE ZELD'S SECRET</td>
+<td align='right'><a href='#Page_361'>361</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td align='right'>LIV.</td>
+<td align='left'>CARMEN</td>
+<td align='right'><a href='#Page_382'>382</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td align='right'>LV.</td>
+<td align='left'>THE BANKER</td>
+<td align='right'><a href='#Page_390'>390</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td align='right'>LVI.</td>
+<td align='left'>ESPERANCE, MONTE-CRISTO'S SON</td>
+<td align='right'><a href='#Page_397'>397</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td align='right'>LVII.</td>
+<td align='left'>THEY MUST BE SAVED!</td>
+<td align='right'><a href='#Page_402'>402</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td align='right'>LVIII.</td>
+<td align='left'>GOUTRAN AND CARMEN</td>
+<td align='right'><a href='#Page_412'>412</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td align='right'>LIX.</td>
+<td align='left'>UPON THE TRACK</td>
+<td align='right'><a href='#Page_422'>422</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td align='right'>LX.</td>
+<td align='left'>ESPERANCE IN DESPAIR</td>
+<td align='right'><a href='#Page_428'>428</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td align='right'>LXI.</td>
+<td align='left'>ESPERANCE GOES TO COURBERRIE</td>
+<td align='right'><a href='#Page_430'>430</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td align='right'>LXII.</td>
+<td align='left'>COUCON</td>
+<td align='right'><a href='#Page_435'>435</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td align='right'>LXIII.</td>
+<td align='left'>CARMEN KEEPS HER WORD</td>
+<td align='right'><a href='#Page_438'>438</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td align='right'>LXIV.</td>
+<td align='left'>THE PLOT</td>
+<td align='right'><a href='#Page_447'>447</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td align='right'>LXV.</td>
+<td align='left'>THE MYSTERIOUS SIGNALS</td>
+<td align='right'><a href='#Page_451'>451</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td align='right'>LXVI.</td>
+<td align='left'>UNITED IN DEATH</td>
+<td align='right'><a href='#Page_456'>456</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td align='right'>LXVII.</td>
+<td align='left'>THE SPECTRE</td>
+<td align='right'><a href='#Page_462'>462</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td align='right'>LXVIII.</td>
+<td align='left'>MONTE-CRISTO, THE MARTYR</td>
+<td align='right'><a href='#Page_468'>468</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td align='right'>LXIX.</td>
+<td align='left'>EPILOGUE</td>
+<td align='right'><a href='#Page_471'>471</a></td></tr>
+
+</table></div>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<!-- <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[Pg 14]</a></span></p> -->
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[Pg 15]</a></span></p>
+
+<h1><small>THE</small><br />
+SON OF MONTE-CRISTO.</h1>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<h3>SEQUEL TO</h3>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<h2>THE WIFE OF MONTE-CRISTO.</h2>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_I" id="CHAPTER_I"></a>CHAPTER I.</h2>
+
+<h3>ESPERANCE, THE SON OF MONTE-CRISTO.</h3>
+
+
+<p>Esperance, the son of Monte-Cristo, lay sleeping in the comfortable bed
+provided for him in the house of Fanfar, the French colonist, as related
+at the close of the preceding volume, "The Wife of Monte-Cristo." The
+prostration and exhaustion brought on by the excitement and fatigue of
+his terrible adventure with the remorseless Khouans rendered his sleep
+as leaden as the sleep of death; indeed, had it not been for his heavy
+respiration, he might have been mistaken for a corpse. But ordinary
+difficulties were not to conquer the heroic son of Monte-Cristo, who
+seemed to have inherited all the marvelous power and energy of his noble
+father, and as he lay there in the hot <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[Pg 16]</a></span>Algerian night, amid the balmy
+perfume of the luxuriant tropical flowers, a mysterious smile hovered
+about the corners of his sharply cut lips that told unmistakably of a
+fearless nature and a firm desire to promote the success of the good and
+the true. Esperance slept, and the lion in him was dormant; it was,
+however, destined soon to be aroused.</p>
+
+<p>In another room, around the family table, Fanfar and his guests were
+seated, the Count of Monte-Cristo occupying the place of honor. The
+colonist, at the urgent solicitation of those with whom he had so
+strangely been brought in contact, was about to relate the story of his
+life, when suddenly Monte-Cristo's quick ear caught a sound.</p>
+
+<p>"What was that?" he said in a startled whisper, instantly springing to
+his feet.</p>
+
+<p>"I heard nothing," said Fanfar.</p>
+
+<p>"It was, perhaps, the cry of some wild beast," suggested Captain
+Joliette.</p>
+
+<p>Monte-Cristo hastened to his son's apartment, followed by Fanfar,
+Captain Joliette and Coucon, the Zouave.</p>
+
+<p>The boy was still sleeping soundly, and the apartment was altogether
+undisturbed.</p>
+
+<p>Monte-Cristo uttered a sigh of relief; he bent over the beautiful child
+and gently kissed him on the forehead.</p>
+
+<p>The party returned to the adjoining room and resumed their seats.
+Scarcely had they done so when a dark form, shrouded in a green
+bournous, appeared stealthily at the open window of Esperance's
+chamber, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[Pg 17]</a></span>and, gazing furtively around, lightly sprang into the room.</p>
+
+<p>"Dog of a Frenchman!" hissed the intruder in a low tone between his
+teeth. "When you flung me over the battlements of Ouargla, you fancied
+you had killed me; but Maldar bears a charmed life and will have a
+bitter revenge!"</p>
+
+<p>The intruder was indeed Maldar, the Sultan, who by some miracle had
+escaped Monte-Cristo's vengeance.</p>
+
+<p>As he spoke he shook his fist in the direction of the Count, who was
+sitting at the table with the rest of Fanfar's guests, though his sombre
+air and clouded brow told that, while preserving his outward calmness,
+he yet suspected the presence of a deadly foe.</p>
+
+<p>Maldar had removed his sandals, and his footsteps were noiseless. He
+went to the bed and stood for an instant gloating over the slumbering
+boy.</p>
+
+<p>"I failed before, but I shall not fail again. Allah is great! I will
+strike this giaour of a Frenchman in his tenderest spot&mdash;his heart! The
+son shall pay the father's debt!"</p>
+
+<p>Half-crouching and gathering his green bournous closely about him, he
+crept cautiously back to the window and made the sign of the crescent in
+the air. There was a slight flash, a pale phosphorescent glow, and in
+the midst of it the emblem of Islam appeared for an instant like a
+semi-circle of fire and then vanished.</p>
+
+<p>Immediately a Khouan showed himself at the window; he leaped into the
+apartment, followed by three others of his fanatical and pitiless tribe.
+The new-<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[Pg 18]</a></span>comers instantly knelt at Maldar's feet and kissed the hem of
+his bournous.</p>
+
+<p>"Son of the Prophet," said one of them, "we are here to do your
+bidding!"</p>
+
+<p>"Rise," said Maldar, "and seize yonder lad, first gagging him with this
+sacred scarf made from Mohammed's own sainted vestment. Be quick and
+bear him to the desert!"</p>
+
+<p>The Khouan who had acted as spokesman took the scarf from Maldar's hand
+and skilfully executed his command. Esperance was in such a deep slumber
+that he did not make a movement, even when the Arab lifted him from the
+bed and held him in his arms.</p>
+
+<p>"Away!" cried Maldar in an undertone, adding, as the Khouan sprang from
+the window and disappeared in the darkness without: "Now, Count of
+Monte-Cristo, you are once more at my mercy, and this time you will not
+escape my vengeance!"</p>
+
+<p>He darted through the window, motioning to the remaining Khouans to do
+likewise. In an instant the room was empty; the Arabs had vanished like
+a vision of the night.</p>
+
+<p>Ten, fifteen minutes passed, and still not a sound to break the torpor
+of the Algerian night, save the hum of conversation around the table of
+Fanfar, the colonist. Monte-Cristo's sombre air had not passed away. He
+was a prey to a species of uneasiness he had never experienced before.
+Fanfar, noticing that the Count was disturbed, that some mysterious
+influence was working upon him, hesitated to commence his narration.
+Finally he said to him:</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[Pg 19]</a></span></p><p>"Count, are you anxious concerning your son? If so, you can dismiss your
+anxiety. The lad is in perfect safety beneath my roof; his slumber will
+refresh him, and he will awake entirely restored. As for the Khouans,
+they never deign to visit my humble habitation, and they will hardly
+break their rule to come here now. Still, to satisfy you and put all
+your apprehensions at rest, I will go and take a look at the lad."</p>
+
+<p>He arose and went to Esperance's room. In an instant he returned. His
+face had the pallor of wax.</p>
+
+<p>Monte-Cristo leaped nervously to his feet and stood staring at him, his
+countenance wearing an expression of intense anguish.</p>
+
+<p>"Well?" said he, in an unsteady voice.</p>
+
+<p>Fanfar was breathless with excitement and terror. When he could find
+words, he said:</p>
+
+<p>"The lad is gone!"</p>
+
+<p>"My God!" cried Monte-Cristo, putting his hand to his forehead and
+staggering beneath the overwhelming blow, "I felt it! I had a
+premonition of some impending disaster, I knew not what! Oh! Esperance!
+Esperance!"</p>
+
+<p>He hurried into the adjoining room and stood beside the empty bed. The
+moon was now shining in unclouded splendor and the apartment was almost
+as light as day. The slight covering had been torn from the couch and
+lay in a heap on the floor. Near it a small object sparkled; the
+agonized father stooped and picked it up: it was a miniature dagger of
+oriental workmanship, and upon its jeweled handle was an inscription in
+the Arabic tongue. Monte-Cristo took <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[Pg 20]</a></span>the weapon to the window and the
+full light of the silvery moonbeams fell upon it. The inscription was
+from the Koran, and was a maxim adopted by the Khouan tribe. The Count
+read it and trembled.</p>
+
+<p>"I recognize this weapon," said he; "it is Maldar's. The Sultan is
+living and has been here! It is to him I owe this terrible
+misfortune&mdash;he has carried away my son!"</p>
+
+<p>Miss Elphys approached the Count and touched his arm.</p>
+
+<p>"We must start in pursuit at once!" said she, with a look of courage and
+determination.</p>
+
+<p>"We?" cried Madame Caraman, aghast. "You, surely, do not mean again to
+face the dangers of this barbarous country, to go upon another Quixotic
+expedition, and drag me with you? Remember you are a woman! Besides,
+there are plenty of men here for the task!"</p>
+
+<p>Clary glanced at the governess with indignation, but vouchsafed no reply
+to her selfish speech.</p>
+
+<p>"Mademoiselle," said Captain Joliette, addressing the heroic girl, "your
+feelings do you honor; but I for one cannot consent for you to imperil
+your life in a night hunt for the dastardly Khouans, who have certainly
+made their way to the desert with the abducted lad. Madame Caraman is
+right; you must not again face the dangers of this barbarous country.
+Remain here with Madame Ir&egrave;ne and Madame Caraman. I will organize and
+lead the pursuit."</p>
+
+<p>Monte-Cristo, who, in the face of the new dangers <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[Pg 21]</a></span>that threatened his
+son, had recovered somewhat of his accustomed calmness, came to them and
+said:</p>
+
+<p>"I thank you, Miss Elphys, for your generosity and bravery, but you must
+take the Captain's advice. Captain Joliette, I fully appreciate your
+motives in wishing to take command in this pursuit, but, at the same
+time, I must claim the precedence. Remember I am a father, and have a
+father's duty to perform. I will lead the pursuit."</p>
+
+<p>Captain Joliette bowed.</p>
+
+<p>"So be it," said he, "it is your right."</p>
+
+<p>Coucon, Fanfar, Gratillet and Iron Jaws eagerly offered their services,
+and even Bobichel forgot his merry pranks and demanded to accompany the
+expedition. The Count of Monte-Cristo desired the former clown to remain
+for the protection of the ladies, but Miss Elphys protested against
+this.</p>
+
+<p>"Take Bobichel with you," she said. "We can protect ourselves."</p>
+
+<p>Bobichel, overjoyed, ran for the horses, and the little army instantly
+mounted, riding away toward the desert at the top of their animals'
+speed, with Monte-Cristo at their head.</p>
+
+<p>Meanwhile Maldar and his Khouan followers were dashing along at a rapid
+pace on the fleet Arab coursers with which they were provided. One of
+the party bore Esperance before him on his saddle. The boy had not been
+aroused from his lethargic sleep by the abduction and subsequent flight.
+He slept peacefully and profoundly.</p>
+
+<p>The fanatical Arabs maintained unbroken silence, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[Pg 22]</a></span>and the sound of their
+horses' hoofs was deadened by the sand.</p>
+
+<p>Maldar rode a trifle in advance. Now that the excitement of the
+abduction had worn off, he was as stoical as the rest, but occasionally,
+as he thought of his triumph over Monte-Cristo and the vengeance he was
+about to take upon his hated enemy, for he had decided to put Esperance
+to a lingering and terrible death and send the lad's gory head to the
+agonized father, a grim smile stole over his otherwise impassible
+countenance, and a demoniac gleam shot from his eyes.</p>
+
+<p>But suddenly a faint sound was heard in the far distance. It came from
+the direction of Fanfar's farm. Maldar listened attentively; then he
+said to the Khouans, whose quick ears had also detected the sound:</p>
+
+<p>"Ride like the wind, sons of the Prophet! We are pursued! The Count of
+Monte-Cristo and his unbelieving French hounds are on our track! But if
+they would overtake us and recover the boy, they must have the cunning
+of serpents and horses as fleet as the lightning's flash!"</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[Pg 23]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_II" id="CHAPTER_II"></a>CHAPTER II.</h2>
+
+<h3>HAYD&Eacute;E, THE WIFE OF MONTE-CRISTO.</h3>
+
+
+<p>It was in Monte-Cristo's luxurious mansion in Marseilles, one bright
+morning in April. Since the Count's departure for Algeria in search of
+her son, Merc&eacute;d&egrave;s, faithful to her oath never to leave Hayd&eacute;e, had taken
+up her residence there. The two women who had filled such important
+places in the life of Monte-Cristo were sitting together in the large
+drawing-room, the windows of which looked out upon the calm blue waters
+of the Mediterranean. These windows were open and through them floated
+the delightful perfume of the flowers from the garden beyond, mingled
+with the saline odors of the sea. It was about ten o'clock and the sun,
+high in the heavens, inundated the vast apartment with its golden light
+and filled it with a generous warmth.</p>
+
+<p>Hayd&eacute;e, the wife of Monte-Cristo, reclined upon an oriental rug, her
+head pillowed in the lap of Merc&eacute;d&egrave;s, who sat on a divan elegantly
+upholstered in the eastern fashion. Merc&eacute;d&egrave;s was lightly toying with
+Hayd&eacute;e's glossy hair that fell like a cloud about her shapely shoulders.
+Her eyes were beaming with affection, while those of Hayd&eacute;e had in them
+a dreamy, faraway look.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[Pg 24]</a></span></p><p>"Sister," said Merc&eacute;d&egrave;s at last, "why are you so sad and silent?"</p>
+
+<p>"I know not," replied the wife of Monte-Cristo, languidly.</p>
+
+<p>"You are thinking of your husband, the noblest of men, who is even now,
+perhaps, risking his life in the Algerian desert to save and recover my
+son."</p>
+
+<p>"You speak truly," returned Hayd&eacute;e with a shudder; "I am thinking of
+him, and my heart is strangely oppressed."</p>
+
+<p>"Have confidence in Monte-Cristo," said her companion, earnestly. "His
+lion courage, wonderful mental resources and mysterious power will
+render him more than a match for the untutored Arabs with whom it is his
+mission to contend."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, Merc&eacute;d&egrave;s; but my son, my Esperance? He is so young to be exposed
+to the dangers of the desert!"</p>
+
+<p>"But Monte-Cristo is with him, and the father's love will shield him
+from all harm."</p>
+
+<p>Hayd&eacute;e made no reply, but continued to gaze dreamily into space.
+Merc&eacute;d&egrave;s, still toying with her hair, strove to rouse her.</p>
+
+<p>"Sister," said she, abruptly, "yesterday you promised to tell me how
+Monte-Cristo rescued you from the hands of the Turkish slave-dealer, Ali
+Pasha. Will you not fulfil that promise now?"</p>
+
+<p>Hayd&eacute;e turned her eyes full on her companion's countenance and a look of
+gratitude passed over her pale visage. She saw that Merc&eacute;d&egrave;s wished to
+draw her mind from the contemplation of her husband's <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[Pg 25]</a></span>present peril by
+inducing her to revert to his heroism of the past.</p>
+
+<p>"I will tell you," said she, "here in this apartment where everything,
+even to the very air, is vital with souvenirs of my beloved husband."
+And, without altering her position, Hayd&eacute;e at once commenced the
+following thrilling narration:</p>
+
+<p>"We were cruising off the coast of Egypt in the Alcyon, when the idea of
+visiting Constantinople suddenly occurred to Monte-Cristo. He gave his
+orders without an instant's delay and the yacht was immediately headed
+for the Sultan's dominions.</p>
+
+<p>"We reached Constantinople in due time, after an exceedingly pleasant
+voyage, for though it was toward the close of spring the weather was
+mild and for weeks the sea had been as calm and unruffled as a mirror.</p>
+
+<p>"As we entered the Bosporus, we noticed a strange craft hovering near
+us. It was a small, rakish-looking vessel bearing the Turkish flag.
+Monte-Cristo had run up his private ensign on the Alcyon, an ensign that
+was recognized by all nations and gave the yacht free entrance into
+every port.</p>
+
+<p>"The strange craft seemed to be following us, but as it made no attempt
+to approach the yacht, we soon became used to its presence and ceased to
+give it attention.</p>
+
+<p>"When the Alcyon anchored, a gorgeously decorated caique, manned by a
+score of stalwart oarsmen, shot from shore and was soon alongside of the
+yacht. A magnificently-appareled old man with a long, snowy <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[Pg 26]</a></span>beard,
+attended by four solemn and stately eunuchs, came on board and was
+ceremoniously received by the Count. It was the Grand Vizier, who,
+having recognized Monte-Cristo's ensign, had hastened to welcome the
+illustrious hero to Constantinople in the name of his august master, the
+Sultan.</p>
+
+<p>"Such an honor merited prompt and becoming recognition, and Monte-Cristo
+was too much of a Frenchman not to return compliment for compliment.
+Leaving the Alcyon in charge of his first officer, and bidding me a
+hasty and tender farewell, the Count entered the caique with the Grand
+Vizier and departed to pay his respects in person to the ruler of the
+Turkish nation.</p>
+
+<p>"No sooner was the caique lost to sight among the shipping than the
+strange craft we had previously observed suddenly ran up to the yacht
+and made fast to her with grappling-irons. Before Monte-Cristo's men
+could recover from their surprise at this man&oelig;uvre they were made
+prisoners and securely bound by twenty Turkish buccaneers, who had
+leaped over the bulwarks of the Alcyon, headed by a villainous-looking
+wretch, furiously brandishing a jeweled yataghan. This was Ali Pasha,
+the slave-dealer, as I soon learned to my cost.</p>
+
+<p>"When the ruffians boarded the yacht, I had rushed below and hidden
+myself in Monte-Cristo's cabin, first securing a keen-bladed dagger for
+my defence.</p>
+
+<p>"I had locked the door, but it was almost instantly burst open and Ali
+Pasha leaped in, followed by several of his crew.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[Pg 27]</a></span></p><p>"Holding my weapon uplifted in my hand, I cried out, in a tone of
+desperate determination:</p>
+
+<p>"'The first scoundrel who dares to lay a finger on me shall die like a
+dog!'</p>
+
+<p>"This speech was greeted with a loud burst of contemptuous laughter, and
+Ali Pasha himself, springing forward, whirled the dagger from my grasp
+with his yataghan. This done, he sternly fixed his glance upon me and
+said:</p>
+
+<p>"'Hayd&eacute;e, wife of Monte-Cristo, Hayd&eacute;e, the Greek slave, you are my
+captive! Sons of Islam, seize her and conduct her to the slave mart of
+Stamboul!'</p>
+
+<p>"Three Turks advanced to obey this command. They seized me and in vain
+did I struggle in their ruffianly grasp. In a moment I was securely
+bound and gagged. A mantle was thrown over my head. I felt myself thrust
+into a sack and swooned just as one of the buccaneers was lifting me
+upon his shoulder.</p>
+
+<p>"When I recovered consciousness, I found myself, with a number of
+half-clad Georgian and Circassian girls, in the dreaded slave bazaar of
+Constantinople. Old memories, fraught with terror, rushed upon me. I
+recalled the time when I was before exposed for sale and Monte-Cristo
+had bought me. Would he come to my rescue once more? I scarcely dared to
+hope for such a thing. I pictured to myself the Count's desolation and
+distress on discovering that I had been stolen from him. But what could
+he do? How could he find me again? And even should he discover me, how
+could he snatch me from the grasp of Ali Pasha, whose favor with the
+Sultan was notorious? Monte-<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[Pg 28]</a></span>Cristo, with all his prestige, was but one
+man, and no match for the mendaciousness, duplicity and power of the
+entire Turkish court! I was lost, and nothing could save me!</p>
+
+<p>"How shall I describe my feelings when I realized that I was even then,
+at that very moment, exposed for sale, that from being the free and
+honored wife of Monte-Cristo I had suddenly become a mere article of
+human merchandise, valued simply at so many miserable piastres! My fate
+hung upon a thread. Would I be purchased by some grandee as a new
+ornament for his harem, or was I destined to fall into the hands of a
+brutal master, to be used as a household drudge for the execution of
+bitter and revolting tasks?</p>
+
+<p>"When each new purchaser entered the bazaar I trembled from head to
+foot, I quivered in every limb. One by one I saw the unfortunate
+Georgian and Circassian girls inspected and disposed of, until at last I
+was the only slave unsold in the entire mart. I thought my turn must
+speedily come, that the next Mussulman who entered would surely buy me,
+and I had firmly resolved upon suicide at the first opportunity,
+choosing death rather than slavery.</p>
+
+<p>"Ali Pasha had personally conducted all the visitors about the bazaar,
+dilating in the extravagant oriental fashion upon the extraordinary
+merits of the captives he wished to turn into money. Many times he had
+paused before me where I stood cowering in a corner, volubly expatiating
+on my value and attractiveness, but hitherto not a single Turk had
+evinced the slightest inclination to relieve him of me.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[Pg 29]</a></span></p><p>"At last two men made their appearance and eagerly glanced around the
+mart. Both wore turbans and full Turkish dress. Their faces were
+shrouded with heavy beards, and there was an indescribable something
+about them that stamped them as personages of exalted rank.</p>
+
+<p>"They paused a short distance from me, and one of them said, addressing
+Ali Pasha:</p>
+
+<p>"'What is the name of yonder slave?'</p>
+
+<p>"'Zuleika,' answered the obsequious and unscrupulous slave-dealer.</p>
+
+<p>"'From what country is she and how did you obtain possession of her?'
+asked the second visitor, who had not yet spoken. His voice was subdued
+and evidently disguised; nevertheless there was something familiar in
+its tone that strangely stirred me and filled me with hope.</p>
+
+<p>"Ali Pasha replied to his inquiry with unblushing effrontery:</p>
+
+<p>"'The slave is from Circassia, and was sold to me by her parents.'</p>
+
+<p>"I know not how I obtained the courage to do so, but instantly I cried
+out:</p>
+
+<p>"'All that vile wretch has said is false! My name is Hayd&eacute;e, and I am
+the wife of the Count of Monte-Cristo! Ali Pasha forcibly abducted me
+from my husband's yacht that now lies in the harbor of Constantinople!'</p>
+
+<p>"'Ali Pasha,' said the first speaker, 'this is a grave accusation! It is
+true that the illustrious Monte-Cristo's yacht now lies in the harbor of
+Stamboul, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[Pg 30]</a></span>and such an abduction as this slave has mentioned did,
+indeed, take place.'</p>
+
+<p>"The slave-dealer winced slightly, but, instantly recovering himself,
+calmly answered:</p>
+
+<p>"'I know nothing of Monte-Cristo, his yacht or his wife. As for this
+lying slave, I will punish her on the spot!'</p>
+
+<p>"With these words he advanced toward me and lifted his clenched fist to
+strike. I shrank tremblingly against the wall, but the next instant a
+blow that would have felled an ox had hurled Ali Pasha to the stone
+floor of the bazaar. It was delivered by the man whose voice had seemed
+familiar to me, and, tearing off his beard, my husband, the undaunted
+Count of Monte-Cristo himself, caught me in his arms and folded me to
+his breast!</p>
+
+<p>"Ali Pasha had now arisen to his feet. Livid with rage he rushed at
+Monte-Cristo with a dagger in his hand, swearing by the Prophet that he
+would have his heart's blood. But the other visitor caught his arm and
+held him back.</p>
+
+<p>"'Who are you and why do you stand between me and my just revenge?'
+cried the slave-dealer, furiously.</p>
+
+<p>"The stranger threw open his robe, and on his breast gleamed a
+diamond-studded crescent.</p>
+
+<p>"'The Grand Vizier!' exclaimed Ali Pasha, prostrating himself before the
+high official. The latter clapped his hands, whereupon six soldiers
+marched into the bazaar.</p>
+
+<p>"'Seize that wretch!' he cried, pointing to the slave-<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[Pg 31]</a></span>dealer, 'and
+inflict upon him the punishment of the bastinado!'</p>
+
+<p>"When this order had been executed, the Grand Vizier, placing himself at
+the head of the soldiers, escorted Monte-Cristo and myself to the harbor
+and saw us safely on board the royal caique.</p>
+
+<p>"In due time we reached the yacht, where the officers and crew were at
+their posts as usual.</p>
+
+<p>"After his interview with the Sultan, Monte-Cristo, accompanied by the
+Grand Vizier, had returned to the Alcyon in the caique. To his
+astonishment he found his men lying on the deck tightly bound. On
+releasing them he learned what had happened, and his influence was
+sufficient to induce the Grand Vizier, who was greatly affected by the
+Count's despair when he discovered the terrible fate that had befallen
+me, to risk the Sultan's displeasure by aiding him to recover me from
+the clutches of Ali Pasha.</p>
+
+<p>"Such," concluded Hayd&eacute;e, "was the manner in which Monte-Cristo rescued
+me from the hands of the villainous Turkish slave-dealer and a fate
+worse than death."</p>
+
+<p>"Sister," said Merc&eacute;d&egrave;s, "no wonder you love Monte-Cristo so devotedly,
+for he is one of the noblest and most heroic men upon this earth!"</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[Pg 32]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_III" id="CHAPTER_III"></a>CHAPTER III.</h2>
+
+<h3>THE COUNT OF MONTE-CRISTO.</h3>
+
+
+<p>Maldar and his Khouan followers had reached the desert with their
+captive. For a long time they heard Monte-Cristo and his men in hot
+pursuit of them, but the sound, growing fainter and fainter, had finally
+ceased. The Sultan concluded that the Count had been misled by some
+fancied indication and had taken a wrong direction. He therefore gave
+himself no further concern in regard to him. Once in the desert he
+slackened the pace of his Arab steed and the Khouans imitated his
+example. The party rode on for several miles when they arrived at a
+small oasis, covered with tall palm trees, that resembled an island of
+verdure amid the far-reaching waste of arid sand. There Maldar gave the
+order to dismount. The Khouans sprang lightly from their weary horses,
+both men and animals going directly to the wells, where they took long
+draughts of the cool, refreshing water. The night was now far spent, and
+as the abductors of Esperance threw themselves upon the grass
+surrounding the wells, the first rosy streaks of dawn appeared in the
+eastern heavens. The horses stood cropping the verdure for a brief
+period, then they also lay down for rest and recuperation. Soon slumber
+reigned supreme, for Maldar, fearing neither pursuit nor attack, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[Pg 33]</a></span>had
+not taken the precaution to post sentinels. The scarf had been removed
+from Esperance's mouth, and the son of Monte-Cristo, still wrapped in
+his lethargic sleep, lay on the sod beside Maldar near one of the wells.
+It was a wild and picturesque group, such a group as would have filled
+the soul of a painter with delight and inspiration.</p>
+
+<p>As the light increased, but while it was yet vague and uncertain, giving
+a demoniac and supernatural cast to the group and its tropical
+surroundings, Esperance suddenly awoke and raised himself upon his
+elbow. For an instant he gazed around him in bewilderment and terror.
+Was he dead, and were those swarthy-visaged forms extended motionless on
+the grass of the oasis the forms of fiends? This thought shot through
+his mind and augmented his consternation. When he fell asleep he was
+with his father, with the dauntless Monte-Cristo, and the last faces he
+had seen were the faces of French people and friends. Now he was in the
+midst of beings of another race, in the midst of strangers. Strangers?
+No, for at that moment his eyes rested on Maldar, and he realized that
+he was again in the clutches of his remorseless foe, and that the men
+around him belonged to the dreaded Khouan tribe.</p>
+
+<p>He was unbound; nothing restrained his movements and not a single guard
+was watching over him. His fear vanished with his bewilderment and gave
+place to heroic resolution. Why should he not escape and make his way
+back to his beloved father and devoted countrymen? He arose cautiously
+to his feet, and <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[Pg 34]</a></span>peered into the distance. His heart throbbed with
+anguish, for beyond the narrow confines of the green oasis, as far as
+his eye could reach, stretched the trackless sands of the arid and
+inhospitable desert. Flight would be madness, nay, perhaps, death, but
+would it not also be death to remain? The son of Monte-Cristo, full of
+his father's unconquerable spirit, determined to take the chances of
+flight. Doubtless Monte-Cristo and his friends were even now scouring
+the desert in search of him. If he could mount one of the Khouans'
+horses and escape from the hands of his fanatical foes, he might meet
+them.</p>
+
+<p>Esperance stole cautiously toward an Arab courser, but he had not taken
+a dozen steps when Maldar awoke, leaped to his feet, ran to him and laid
+an iron hand upon his shoulder.</p>
+
+<p>"So you thought to escape me, did you, son of Monte-Cristo?" said the
+Sultan, with a mocking laugh and a fiendish light in big eyes. "By the
+beard of the Prophet, your presumption is unbounded! But you are mine,
+and no power on earth can save you now!"</p>
+
+<p>The heroic lad gazed full in Maldar's face and, without the quiver of a
+muscle, answered defiantly:</p>
+
+<p>"Wretch that you are to war on defenceless children, I do not fear you!
+Harm but a single hair of my head, and Monte-Cristo will grind you into
+dust!"</p>
+
+<p>Maldar replied with a sneer: "Monte-Cristo, the infidel charlatan, is
+miles away. With all his boasted power he can do nothing to aid you. I
+have you now, and you shall die!"</p>
+
+<p>With the quickness of lightning Esperance thrust <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[Pg 35]</a></span>out his hand, seizing
+the Sultan's jeweled yataghan and drawing it from its scabbard. At the
+same time he raised it above his head and brought it down, aiming it
+straight at Maldar's heart. The Sultan parried the thrust with his arm,
+receiving a gaping wound from which the blood gushed in a ruby stream.
+Smarting with pain and foaming with rage, he threw himself upon the
+daring boy, tore the yataghan from his grasp, and with its heavy handle
+struck him a blow on the head that stretched him senseless at his feet.</p>
+
+<p>The noise of the conflict awoke the Khouans, who sprang up and rushed to
+their chief.</p>
+
+<p>One of them drew a long-bladed knife and was about to stab the prostrate
+and unconscious boy, but the Sultan restrained him with an impatient
+gesture.</p>
+
+<p>"Not here," said he. "The sacrifice can only be made in the mosque of
+the Khouans, thrice dedicated to Mohammed and reserved for the holiest
+rite of Islam, the rite of vengeance!" Motioning to the Khouan to take
+the insensible boy from the ground, he added "Now to horse and for the
+mosque. Bear our captive in your arms."</p>
+
+<p>The Arabs mounted and were soon dashing across the desert, headed by the
+Sultan, who had hastily stanched the blood flowing from his arm and
+bound up the wound.</p>
+
+<p>Half an hour later, Monte-Cristo and his men reached the oasis. The
+Count and Captain Joliette rode to the wells and at once saw where the
+grass had been beaten down by the Khouans and their horses.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[Pg 36]</a></span></p><p>"They have been here and recently, too," said Captain Joliette.</p>
+
+<p>"Thank God!" said Monte-Cristo, fervently. "We are on their track! But
+what is that?" he added. "Is it blood?"</p>
+
+<p>Coucon and Fanfar, who had been attentively examining the stain,
+simultaneously answered:</p>
+
+<p>"It is blood."</p>
+
+<p>"My God!" cried Monte-Cristo, with a convulsive start, "then they have
+slain my son!"</p>
+
+<p>"Not so, Count," said Captain Joliette. "Had they slain Esperance they
+would have left his body here. But see," resumed he, pointing to the
+spot where Esperance had made the attack on Maldar; "here are evidences
+of a struggle; they have fought among themselves and one of them has
+been wounded."</p>
+
+<p>"Heaven grant it may be so!" said Monte-Cristo.</p>
+
+<p>The party started off again, following the track of the Arabs' horses,
+and after an hour's ride came in sight of a long, low building with a
+gleaming minaret, standing alone in the midst of the desert.</p>
+
+<p>"The mosque of the Khouans!" cried Captain Joliette, triumphantly.
+"Maldar and his ruffians are there! Look! Yonder are their horses!"</p>
+
+<p>Monte-Cristo and his men reached the building and leaped to the ground;
+they left their panting animals in charge of Bobichel, and, drawing
+their revolvers, made their way into the mosque.</p>
+
+<p>There a sight met their eyes that almost froze the blood in their veins.</p>
+
+<p>Esperance, with his hands tied behind him and <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[Pg 37]</a></span>stripped to the waist,
+was kneeling upon a large, flat stone in the centre of the mosque. Over
+him stood Maldar, his yataghan uplifted to strike. The four Khouans
+stood at a short distance, chanting what was evidently a death-hymn.</p>
+
+<p>Instantly Monte-Cristo aimed his weapon at the Sultan and fired. Maldar
+fell dead beside his intended victim.</p>
+
+<p>The other Arabs leaped through the open windows and, mounting their
+horses, fled across the desert.</p>
+
+<p>Monte-Cristo caught his son in his arms.</p>
+
+<p>"Esperance, my beloved!" he cried.</p>
+
+<p>"Father!" exclaimed the rescued lad, clasping his arms about
+Monte-Cristo's neck.</p>
+
+<p>Esperance's garments were quickly restored to him by Fanfar, and when he
+was clad in them, the party again mounted and started on their return to
+the colonist's farm.</p>
+
+<p>There is no need to describe the toilsome journey, it was accomplished
+in due time, and once more Esperance was safe in his father's care.</p>
+
+<p>The ladies gave the heroes of the expedition a most enthusiastic
+welcome, Miss Elphys shedding tears of joy as Esperance told her how his
+heroic father had saved him from death at Maldar's hands.</p>
+
+<p>The next evening, when the excitement had somewhat subsided and
+Monte-Cristo and his men had fully recovered from their fatigue, Fanfar
+began the story of his life, which will be related in the succeeding
+chapters.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[Pg 38]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IV" id="CHAPTER_IV"></a>CHAPTER IV.</h2>
+
+<h3>FANFAR'S ADVENTURES&mdash;CAIN.</h3>
+
+
+<p>Toward the middle of December, 1813, a man was riding through the Black
+Forest.</p>
+
+<p>This man seemed to be still in the vigor of youth. He wore a long, brown
+surtout and leathern gaiters. His hair was worn in a queue, and
+powdered. Night was coming on, and Pierre Labarre, confidential servant
+of the Marquis de Fongereues, was somewhat weary and eager to get on.</p>
+
+<p>"Quick!" he said to his horse. "Quick! They are waiting for us, and we
+are the bearers of good news!"</p>
+
+<p>The animal seemed to understand, and accelerated his pace.</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly Pierre started. He had reached a group of nine trees, one of
+which had been struck by lightning, making the group a conspicuous one.
+The rider listened as he pulled up his steed.</p>
+
+<p>"Surely," he said to himself, "I heard the trot of a horse on the other
+side of the Nine Trees!"</p>
+
+<p>The road widened here and divided. He laid his hand on his breast by an
+involuntary movement.</p>
+
+<p>"The portfolio is safe, any way! Get on, Margotte." And he lifted his
+reins.</p>
+
+<p>But, as if this movement were a signal, he heard <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[Pg 39]</a></span>distinctly a horse
+coming toward him, this time at a full gallop, and then Pierre saw a
+shadow pass some thirty yards away.</p>
+
+<p>He drew out a pistol, and rode with it in his hand until he passed the
+cross-road, but he saw and heard nothing more. Perhaps he had been
+mistaken&mdash;it was only a messenger traveling the same road as himself. He
+had entered the path which in a half hour would take him into Fribourg,
+when suddenly there was a flash and a report. A ball struck Pierre in
+the breast&mdash;he fell forward on the neck of his horse. A man came out of
+the shadow on the side of the road. This man was wrapped in a cloak.
+Just as he laid his hand on the bridle of the horse, Pierre straightened
+himself in his saddle.</p>
+
+<p>"You are in too great a hurry, bandit!" he shouted, firing his pistol at
+the assassin at the same moment.</p>
+
+<p>The man uttered a terrible cry, and then, with a superhuman effort,
+sprang into the wood. Pierre fired again, but this time hit nothing.</p>
+
+<p>"It was a good idea of mine," he said, rubbing his chest, "to use this
+portfolio as a breastplate. And now, Margotte, carry me to Fribourg
+without further adventures!"</p>
+
+<p>As Margotte obeyed the spur, her master heard the gallop of another
+horse dying away in the distance.</p>
+
+<p>"Strange!" he said. "I could not see his face, but it seemed to me that
+I knew his voice when he cried out!"</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[Pg 40]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_V" id="CHAPTER_V"></a>CHAPTER V.</h2>
+
+<h3>WHAT PIERRE KNEW.</h3>
+
+
+<p>The Place Notre Dame at Fribourg was crowded with citizens and soldiers.
+The citizens wore troubled, and talked together in low voices, while the
+soldiers were noisy and abusive against France.</p>
+
+<p>The colossal spire of the Cathedral threw its shadow over this scene.</p>
+
+<p>Sovereigns and diplomats, ready for an invasion of France, had left
+Frankfort for Fribourg, there to complete their plans of vengeance and
+hate.</p>
+
+<p>Blucher, with Sachen and Laugeron, had concentrated their troops between
+Mayence and Coblentz. The Prince de Schwartzemberg was marching toward
+B&acirc;le. The Swiss were irritated, believing that their neutrality would be
+violated.</p>
+
+<p>In the Chamber of Commerce the Emperor Alexander, with Metternich and
+Lord Castlereagh, were studying maps, eager for the fray and the
+dismemberment of France. Count Pozzo de Borga was on his way to England.</p>
+
+<p>On the Place de Ministre a tall mansion faces the Cathedral. Steps, with
+wrought iron railings, lead to the oaken door, well barred with steel.
+On the second floor, in a large, gloomy room, several persons are
+assembled. The last rays of the setting sun are <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[Pg 41]</a></span>coming from the high
+windows through the heavy panes of glass set in lead.</p>
+
+<p>Standing near a window is a lady in black, looking out on the Square;
+her hand caresses a child who clings to her skirts. The two corners of
+the chimney in which are burning resinous logs of wood are occupied. On
+one side sits an old man, on the other a lady wrapped in a cloak that
+covers her entirely.</p>
+
+<p>The Marquis de Fongereues is only sixty, but his white hair, his
+wrinkles, and the sad senility of his countenance gave him the
+appearance of an octogenarian. He sits motionless, his hands crossed on
+his knees. The lady opposite, whose head rests on the high oak back of
+her chair, is not yet forty. Her face is hard, and her eyes, fixed upon
+the Marquis, seem eager to read his thoughts. She is Pauline de
+Maillezais&mdash;Marquise de Fongereues&mdash;and the lady at the window is
+Magdalena, Vicomtesse de Talizac. Her husband, Jean de Talizac, is the
+son of the Marquis de Fongereues. Suddenly the old man said:</p>
+
+<p>"Where is Jean?"</p>
+
+<p>Magdalena started, as if this voice, breaking the silence of the room,
+had startled her.</p>
+
+<p>"He has been away since morning," she replied, in a voice that she
+endeavored to render careless.</p>
+
+<p>"Ah!" said the Marquis, relapsing into silence. Presently he inquired
+what time it was.</p>
+
+<p>"Let me see&mdash;I wish to tell him," cried the child, leaving his mother's
+side and running across the room to a console table, on which stood an
+elaborate clock.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[Pg 42]</a></span></p><p>Frederic, the son of the Vicomte de Talizac, is deformed. One shoulder
+is higher than the other, and he limps, but he seems alert.</p>
+
+<p>"It is seven o'clock," he said, in a sharp voice.</p>
+
+<p>The door was thrown open at this moment, and a German officer appeared.
+Madame Fongereues rose hastily.</p>
+
+<p>"And what is the decision, Monsieur de Karlstein?" she asked.</p>
+
+<p>The officer bowed low to each of the three persons in the room, and then
+said, quietly:</p>
+
+<p>"To-morrow the allied armies will cross the French frontier."</p>
+
+<p>"At last!" exclaimed Madame de Fongereues, and Madame de Talizac uttered
+a cry of joy. The Marquis was unmoved.</p>
+
+<p>"The details&mdash;give us the details!" said the young Marquise.</p>
+
+<p>"We shall reach France through Switzerland," said the German, "and
+penetrate the heart of the empire. Lord Castlereagh approves of this
+plan and the Emperor Alexander gives it favorable consideration."</p>
+
+<p>"And in a month the king will be at the Tuileries!" said Madame de
+Talizac.</p>
+
+<p>The German did not notice this remark.</p>
+
+<p>"And now, ladies, will you kindly permit me to retire? In two hours I
+leave with my company."</p>
+
+<p>Madame de Fongereues extended her hand to him.</p>
+
+<p>"Go, sir," she said. "Go aid in this sacred work! Insolent France must
+learn that the most sacred <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[Pg 43]</a></span>rights cannot be trodden under foot with
+impunity. Let the chastisement be as terrible as has been the crime!"</p>
+
+<p>Monsieur de Karlstein bowed low and went out.</p>
+
+<p>"At last!" repeated the Marquise. "These French have insulted and
+despised us too long! Twenty-five years of exile! It is twenty-five
+years since my father the Comte de Maillezais took me in his arms and,
+pointing toward Paris, said, 'Child! remember that the day will come
+when these men will kill their king, as they have forced your father to
+fly for his life.' Monsieur Fongereues, do you hear? Are you not glad to
+return as master among these men who drove you away, and with you all
+that there was great and noble in France?"</p>
+
+<p>The old man turned his head.</p>
+
+<p>"God protect France!" he said, solemnly.</p>
+
+<p>A shout of laughter rang through the room. It was the son of Vicomte
+Jean, who was laughing at his grandfather.</p>
+
+<p>Madame de Talizac shrugged her shoulders impatiently. Madame de
+Fongereues made her a sign.</p>
+
+<p>"Come," she said, "the Marquis is sinking into his second childhood, and
+his follies irritate me."</p>
+
+<p>The child took his mother's hand.</p>
+
+<p>"We shall be the masters now, mamma, shall we not?"</p>
+
+<p>The Vicomtesse murmured, as she left the room,</p>
+
+<p>"Why has not Jean come? Can it be that he has not succeeded!"</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[Pg 44]</a></span></p><p>Hardly had they disappeared than a door, concealed behind a hanging,
+slowly opened.</p>
+
+<p>Pierre Labarre appeared and noiselessly approaching his master, knelt at
+his feet.</p>
+
+<p>"Master," he said, respectfully, "I have returned."</p>
+
+<p>The Marquis started. "You have come!" he exclaimed, then dropping his
+voice, he added, "Quick! Simon?"</p>
+
+<p>"Hush! not so loud!" said Pierre; then whispering in the old man's ear,
+"He is living!" he said.</p>
+
+<p>The Marquis half closed his eyes, and his lips moved in prayer, while
+large tears slowly ran down his withered cheeks.</p>
+
+<p>The Marquis belonged to one of the oldest families of Languedoc. His
+ancestors had served France faithfully and had held positions of trust
+near the persons of the kings. The present Marquis had committed a fault
+not easily forgiven by the <i>ancien r&eacute;gime</i>. He had married the daughter
+of a farmer, when he was twenty, in spite of the threats of his family.
+This union was of short duration, for his wife died in giving birth to a
+son. This blow was so sudden that the young man abandoned himself to
+despair. He shut himself up from the world on an estate he had among the
+Vosges mountains, and lived only for his child.</p>
+
+<p>The beloved dead, though of peasant blood, had been an extraordinary
+woman. She, young as she was, had thought much, and felt deeply the
+sufferings of her class. She pointed out to the Marquis how the people
+were weighed down by taxes, and how little their hard toil availed
+them.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[Pg 45]</a></span></p><p>"Friend," said Simonne, "thou art wealthy, thou belongest to the
+privileged class, give and speak. Open thy hand, and raise thy voice!"</p>
+
+<p>She endeavored to awaken in his heart a noble ambition. He was twenty
+and he loved. Had she lived, Armand would, undoubtedly, have been one of
+the greatest actors in the crisis then preparing, but now that she was
+gone, he forgot the glorious legacy she had bequeathed to him. He
+detested the court, however, and determined that his son should grow up
+far away from its influences. Simon, therefore, passed his childhood
+among the mountains drinking in the delicious air, and growing as freely
+as a young tree.</p>
+
+<p>But Armand was weak. His friends and family, who had fallen away from
+him at the time of his marriage, now sought to bring him back. He
+resisted for a time, but at last went to Versailles. The king received
+him proudly and said, "Monsieur de Fongereues, it is not well in you to
+abandon us thus. The throne needs its faithful supporters."</p>
+
+<p>A few days later he was presented to Mademoiselle de Maillezais&mdash;her
+beauty was of that quality that dazzles rather than pleases. She made
+herself very attractive on this occasion, anxious to take back to the
+king this nobleman who had so nearly been lost.</p>
+
+<p>In 1779, Armand married this lady. Simon, the peasant's son, was then
+five years of age. When his father spoke of him to his wife some little
+time after their marriage, she replied:</p>
+
+<p>"You will, of course, do as you choose, but I should <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[Pg 46]</a></span>say that any
+change would be likely to injure his health."</p>
+
+<p>The Marquis was glad to seize any excuse for keeping Simonne's son away
+from that society which his mother had so strongly condemned. It was
+with the feeling, therefore, that he was obeying the wishes of his
+beloved dead, that he left Simon among the mountains.</p>
+
+<p>It was at this time that the war begun by the enemies of Nechar against
+his innovations reached its height. The nobles and the clergy, feeling
+their privileges attacked, organized against the Genoese banker a
+campaign in which he was to fall. The Maillezais family were Nechar's
+pitiless adversaries, and in spite of himself the Marquis was carried
+along with them. His wife had acquired a supremacy over him that daily
+increased. His weak nature was ever ready to be influenced by others,
+and his natural enthusiasm originally aroused by Simonne for another
+cause, was perverted to the profit of the <i>ancien r&eacute;gime</i>, and finally
+he was one of the first to applaud the words of Louis XVI., when he
+signed his name to an edict which inflicted on the country a new debt of
+four hundred and twenty million.</p>
+
+<p>"It is <i>legal</i> because <i>I wish it</i>."</p>
+
+<p>Nevertheless, the Marquis often thought of Simonne when he was alone. He
+recalled her beautiful, energetic face, her pathetic, eloquent words.
+Then he longed to see her son, whom his present wife hated. She herself
+had become a mother; the Vicomte <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[Pg 47]</a></span>Jean Talizac had been held at the
+baptismal font by the Queen Marie Antoinette.</p>
+
+<p>The Marquise determined to oust Simon from his place in his father's
+heart. She but half succeeded in this, and was too wise to attack the
+memory of the dead.</p>
+
+<p>The Marquis wrote in secret to his son, and occasionally went to see him
+among the Vosges, and embraced the lad, who inherited all his mother's
+intelligence and goodness.</p>
+
+<p>Then the Vicomte returned like a truant schoolboy to Versailles, and the
+Marquise brought in her boy with an expression that seemed to say, "This
+is your boy! He is the one in whose veins runs only noble blood!"</p>
+
+<p>In 1787 the Marquis was dangerously ill. His wife was devoted to him,
+and one day when he was in a critical condition she said, gently:</p>
+
+<p>"Shall I send for the peasant's child?"</p>
+
+<p>He closed his eyes and did not reply. When, after long weeks of illness,
+he was restored to health, he belonged to the Marquise. He never spoke
+of his eldest child, and adored Jean.</p>
+
+<p>Then came the emigration. Monsieur de Fongereues, friend of Cond&eacute; and of
+Polignac, yielded to his wife's entreaties and joined the Prince de
+Cond&eacute; at Worms, where he was making an appeal to foreign powers against
+France. Although yielding to the wishes of the Marquise, De Fongereues
+was fully aware that it was a base act to desert his country, and excite
+against her the hatred of her most violent <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[Pg 48]</a></span>enemies. Young Simon, the
+son of the peasant, could not join in this parricidal act, although the
+Marquis sent Pierre Labarre, who was even then in his service, to his
+son, then fifteen years of age, to sound his views. If the youth would
+enter the army of Cond&eacute;, the Marquis assured him a brilliant future. If
+he remained in France, however, he could no longer rely on his father,
+who, however, sent him a large sum of money. The youth refused the
+money, and replied:</p>
+
+<p>"Say to my father that I love him, and that if ever he requires a
+devoted heart and a courageous arm that he may summon me to his side;
+but now, if I am to choose between poverty in my own country and wealth
+in a foreign land, I remain here!"</p>
+
+<p>"It was Simonne's soul that spoke through his lips!" murmured the
+Marquis, when Pierre repeated the message sent by the young man.</p>
+
+<p>The father and son did not meet after 1790. We will now return to
+Fribourg, to that room where Pierre Labarre had just told the Marquis
+that Simon was living.</p>
+
+<p>Twenty-five years had elapsed&mdash;twenty-five years of anguish and sorrow
+for the Marquis. He had seen France fighting with heroic energy against
+all Europe. He had heard the enthusiastic shouts of 1792, and then the
+dull groans of the people crushed under the heel of the conqueror. And
+while his country bled and fought, the Marquis blushed with shame in
+London, Berlin and Vienna when his French ears heard the maledictions of
+the conquered.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[Pg 49]</a></span></p><p>As soon as his son, the Vicomte Jean, reached the age of twenty, he had
+become one of the most active agents of the coalition, and, as if to
+indicate his hatred of France, married a German.</p>
+
+<p>From that time the Marquis heard nothing but abuse of France, nothing
+but exultation when her sons fell in Spain or in Russia. The old man's
+heart was sore within him, but it was then too late for him to make a
+stand, and he was obliged to live on amid this hatred.</p>
+
+<p>Once only did Jean go to France to lend his aid to Cadondal's
+conspiracy, but he was obliged to flee precipitately, and with
+difficulty succeeded in gaining the frontier. On his return he was in a
+state of sullen rage. Was it despair at his lack of success, or did the
+Vicomte feel any remorse? His father watched him with troubled eyes and
+many fears, but did not dare ask a question.</p>
+
+<p>What had become of Simon? The Marquis had read in a newspaper that a
+Simon Foug&egrave;re carried the orders of the day at the battle of
+Hohenlinden. He leaped at once at the truth. Simonne's son was fighting
+for his country, while his other son, the Vicomte de Talizac, was
+fighting against it.</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly the Marquis beheld the fall of the Imperial idol. The allied
+armies were in France. Vengeance was near at hand!</p>
+
+<p>Three times the Marquis sent Pierre to France, but the faithful servant
+could learn nothing of Simon, but this last time he discovered that
+Simon was living. Pierre had been in the service of the Marquis for
+forty years. He had known Simonne, and felt for his master <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[Pg 50]</a></span>the deepest
+affection. He was of the people, and only this affection had induced him
+to leave France. By degrees he had become the confidant of his master,
+and read his half-broken heart like an open book, and realized that it
+was full of regrets, almost of remorse. Then he swore to himself that he
+would aid the Marquis to repair the injustice done to Simon. It is
+needless to say that Pierre's honest nature felt no sympathy for the
+Marquise. She, on the contrary, was the object of his deepest aversion,
+for he well knew that she had done her best to have him dismissed from
+the service of the Marquis.</p>
+
+<p>The Vicomte de Talizac, the Vicomtesse, and their son, detested Pierre
+and watched him closely, with what aim they alone knew.</p>
+
+<p>"I went to the Vosges, master," said Pierre. "I learned that the soldier
+known by the name of Simon Foug&egrave;re had gone to Lorraine. I could learn
+nothing more. I went about everywhere&mdash;to Epinal, Nancy, Saint Di&eacute;&mdash;and
+I had begun to despair, when one evening I reached the foot of a
+mountain and saw a little cluster of houses. I asked a peasant who was
+passing if I could procure accommodations there for the night.</p>
+
+<p>"Of course," he answered. "Go straight ahead and you will come to friend
+Simon's inn."</p>
+
+<p>The Marquis listened breathlessly. Pierre continued:</p>
+
+<p>"The name was a common one in that part of the country, as I had good
+reason to know, but this time my heart began to beat. I thanked the
+peasant and I hurried on. And when I think that a Comte de
+Fongereues&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[Pg 51]</a></span></p><p>"It was he, then!" cried the Marquis, snatching his servant's hands.
+"And you saw him? Tell me everything!"</p>
+
+<p>"He is happy," answered Pierre. "But, master, let me tell my story in my
+own way, for then I shall forget nothing. I went into a little inn,
+which was as clean as possible and bore the sign, 'France!' A fire of
+vine branches was sparkling in the big chimney. A boy of about ten came
+to meet me. 'My friend,' I said, 'is this the inn of Monsieur Simon?'"</p>
+
+<p>"'Yes, sir,' he replied, looking at me with soft, dark eyes. I felt as
+if I had seen him before."</p>
+
+<p>"What! do you mean&mdash;&mdash;" cried the Marquis.</p>
+
+<p>"Wait, master, wait. I told him that I wanted supper and a bed. The boy
+ran toward a little door and called: 'Mamma! Mamma!' A woman appeared in
+peasant dress, with dark hair and eyes. She carried a little girl on one
+arm. The mother looked about thirty, and the girl was some six years of
+age.</p>
+
+<p>"'Take a chair, sir,' said the mistress of the house. 'We will do the
+best we can for you.' Then she told the boy to take the horse to the
+stable and call his father. I took my seat by the fire and reflected
+that Simon would not be likely to know me, if it were he, as he had not
+seen me for thirty years. You had bidden me take care not to betray
+myself, but I knew that Time had done his work.</p>
+
+<p>"'The country about here looks very dreary,' I said to Madame Simon. She
+turned in surprise from her work. She was laying the table for my
+supper.</p>
+
+<p>"'Ah! you are a stranger here!' she answered with <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[Pg 52]</a></span>a smile. 'No, it is
+not dreary; it is much pleasanter here than in the cities.'</p>
+
+<p>"'But in winter?' I persisted.</p>
+
+<p>"'Oh! the mountains are magnificent then.'</p>
+
+<p>"'Have you been living here long, Madame?'</p>
+
+<p>"'Ten years,' she replied.</p>
+
+<p>"'And these beautiful children are yours?'</p>
+
+<p>"She hesitated a moment, or I thought so, but she said in a moment:</p>
+
+<p>"'Yes, they are mine, and you will see their father presently, the best
+man in this place!' She brought in a bowl of steaming soup. 'Excuse the
+simplicity of the service, sir.' The door opened, and, master, if it had
+been in Africa, or thousands of miles from France, I should have known
+Simonne's son. He had his great deep eyes, but, master&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>Pierre stopped short.</p>
+
+<p>"Go on; you frighten me!" cried the Marquis.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh! master, Monsieur Simon has lost a leg. I saw it at once, and the
+tears came to my eyes. He lost it at Elchingen, in 1805&mdash;it was shot off
+by a cannon ball."</p>
+
+<p>The Marquis started.</p>
+
+<p>"And his brother was there, too!" he murmured. "Go on, Pierre."</p>
+
+<p>"I knew him at once, as I was saying. He is tall, he is strong; his hair
+is turning gray, and he wears a heavy moustache, and was dressed in
+peasant costume. He came to me, and said in a voice that was so like his
+mother's: 'You are welcome!' I extended my hand, he did not seem to be
+astonished, and received it cordially. I went to the table, and while I
+ate my <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[Pg 53]</a></span>soup I watched him closely. He took the little girl up in his
+arms, and began to talk to her in a low voice, and the child listened
+intently. I could not hear what was said, but presently the child came
+running to me.</p>
+
+<p>"'Monsieur,' she cried, 'will you do me a favor?'</p>
+
+<p>"'Certainly,' I replied.</p>
+
+<p>"'Will you drink with papa to the French army?'</p>
+
+<p>"'Most gladly!' I answered, wondering at the same time if Simon took me
+for a spy. The mere idea made me feel ill, and I wanted to tell him who
+I was, when he came to the table with a couple of glasses.</p>
+
+<p>"'To the success of our arms shall be our toast, sir!' he said. I
+answered, as I raised my glass to my lips: 'To France!' His eyes flashed
+with joy. These words had evidently conquered his distrust.</p>
+
+<p>"'Would it be indiscreet to ask, sir, by what strange chance you are in
+this wild place?'</p>
+
+<p>"I told him, for I had to lie, that I had lost my way. He looked at me a
+moment.</p>
+
+<p>"'You come from Germany, do you not?'</p>
+
+<p>"'Are you a sorcerer?' I exclaimed.</p>
+
+<p>"'No&mdash;it is plain to see that by the cut and the material of your
+clothing. But is it true,' he continued rapidly, 'that the allied armies
+are about to cross the frontier?'</p>
+
+<p>"'Alas! I fear so. But you do not know our last disaster, then?'</p>
+
+<p>"'Fortune has betrayed us, but patience&mdash;patience!'</p>
+
+<p>"'Do you think that further resistance is possible?' I asked.</p>
+
+<p>"'I am a soldier of France!' was his proud reply. <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[Pg 54]</a></span>'I believe in my
+banner and my country!' He then asked me many questions, and finally one
+that made my heart leap to my throat.</p>
+
+<p>"'Is it true that the French emigr&eacute;s have accepted positions in these
+foreign armies?' I protested my ignorance. He passed his hand over his
+brow, as if to chase away unfortunate doubts, and I changed the
+conversation.</p>
+
+<p>"'These lovely children are yours?' I asked.</p>
+
+<p>"'Yes&mdash;and this is my wife, Fran&ccedil;oise Simon, the best of women, who has
+consoled me in many sorrows, and this is Jacques, my eldest, and you
+know Francinette. Perhaps you will give me your name now?'</p>
+
+<p>"'One moment&mdash;you have not introduced yourself.'</p>
+
+<p>"'I am called Simon,' he answered with a frown.</p>
+
+<p>"'Simon&mdash;and nothing else?'</p>
+
+<p>"'Nothing else. If I ever bore another name, I have forgotten it. I
+fought in 1791. I was wounded and compelled to leave the service.' He
+spoke with some nervousness.</p>
+
+<p>"'Are your parents living?' I asked. He looked at me intently, and
+pouring out a glass of wine, he carried it to his lips with a steady
+hand.</p>
+
+<p>"'I never knew them,' he replied.</p>
+
+<p>"We talked for some time, and he told me that after he recovered from
+his wound he entered the service of a rich farmer, and soon saved enough
+to lease a small farm for himself, where he carried on his small
+business as an inn and kept a school, 'for,' he said, 'I had received a
+good education, and wished to do something for the children about me.'</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[Pg 55]</a></span></p><p>"It was midnight before I went to my room, and I arose as soon as I
+heard a movement below, but, early as it was, Simon had already gone
+out. I felt that I must return to you without waiting to see him again.
+I had formed a plan which I trust you will approve of. I went to the
+Mayor and obtained a copy of Simon's papers. You know since the new code
+any one can get such papers, and I said something about a lawsuit."</p>
+
+<p>"And you have these papers?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes&mdash;in a portfolio in my breast."</p>
+
+<p>He touched his breast as he spoke and uttered an exclamation of pain. "I
+had forgotten," he said, and then told his master of the attack made on
+him in the Black Forest.</p>
+
+<p>"That is very strange," said the Marquis, thoughtfully.</p>
+
+<p>"At all events, I wounded him," Pierre replied.</p>
+
+<p>At this moment there was a sound just outside the door. The Marquis
+threw it open quickly, but there was nothing to be seen.</p>
+
+<p>"I was sure I heard&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"This old, worm-eaten wood makes strange noises when the dampness gets
+into it," said Pierre.</p>
+
+<p>The Marquis read the papers carefully which Pierre now gave him.</p>
+
+<p>"But there were two children at the time?" he said to Pierre. "Where is
+the certificate of the birth of Jacques?"</p>
+
+<p>Pierre hesitated. "When Simon and Fran&ccedil;oise were <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[Pg 56]</a></span>married," he answered,
+reluctantly, "Jacques was already born."</p>
+
+<p>"And now," said the Marquis, "I must make some change in my will. My
+poor boy, in these papers, does not give his real name, nor the place of
+his birth, but we will soon remedy that."</p>
+
+<p>"But why do you talk of your will! You must see your son, master, and
+then you can make all things right."</p>
+
+<p>"I have grown very old lately, and have little strength left, but I hope
+to embrace my son Simon before I die; but I am in the hands of God. I
+wish to incorporate these papers in my will and then there will be no
+difficulty in proving Simon's relationship."</p>
+
+<p>"But what do you fear?" asked Pierre.</p>
+
+<p>The Marquis looked at him.</p>
+
+<p>"Why this question? You know as well as I."</p>
+
+<p>"Do you think that the Vicomte would have the audacity&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>The Marquis laid his hand on his servant's breast.</p>
+
+<p>"There is no peasant," he said, slowly and emphatically, "no peasant in
+these parts who is capable of such a crime."</p>
+
+<p>Pierre bowed his head; he understood.</p>
+
+<p>"And this is not all," continued his master, "a will may be lost, may be
+stolen. I wish to provide for everything, and wish that Simon and his
+children shall be rich."</p>
+
+<p>The Marquis went on speaking in so low a voice that no one but the
+servant could possibly hear.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[Pg 57]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VI" id="CHAPTER_VI"></a>CHAPTER VI.</h2>
+
+<h3>FRATERNAL THOUGHTS.</h3>
+
+
+<p>When the Marquise, her daughter-in-law, and grandson left the salon, a
+servant attached especially to the service of the Vicomte approached.</p>
+
+<p>"Madame la Vicomtesse," said Cyprien, "my master wishes to see you; he
+is in his chamber."</p>
+
+<p>"Go, my child," interposed the Marquise, "but leave the boy with me, for
+I hate to be alone in these rooms which are drearier than a cloister."</p>
+
+<p>The Vicomtesse de Talizac was of Austrian origin, and concealed under an
+air of languid indifference the most boundless ambition. Her large eyes
+were light and generally without expression, but on occasion they grew
+dark and flashed fire.</p>
+
+<p>She had married the Vicomte de Talizac with the idea that she would thus
+obtain a high position at the French Court, knowing well moreover that
+the immense fortune of the Fongereueses would ensure her princely
+luxury. The Vicomtesse was both proud and avaricious, and her nature
+rebelled at the smallest check to her secret aspirations. Her only son
+came into the world hopelessly deformed, but his mother adored him to
+whom Nature had given neither physical nor moral beauty. She labored to
+make him as selfish <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[Pg 58]</a></span>and indifferent as herself. She determined that as
+he grew to man's estate, he should be feared rather than pitied, and to
+do this it was necessary that he should be immensely rich. He was taught
+from his cradle to hate France. When his mother saw that the hour of
+triumph for the emigr&eacute;s, the traitors, was near at hand, she was filled
+with bitter joy.</p>
+
+<p>None of these people realized the work that had been going on for twenty
+years, and had little idea of the changes that had taken place. They
+ignored them all, and were only anxious to restore everything to the old
+condition.</p>
+
+<p>The Vicomte de Talizac and his wife were especially eager for these
+results. There was but one shadow on their brilliant future. The fortune
+of the Vicomte had nearly gone&mdash;the fortune of the Fongereues family
+remained, but the Vicomte was well aware that his father had contracted
+an early marriage, and that of this union a son was born, with whom, to
+be sure, the old Marquis seemed to have broken entirely, but of late de
+Talizac began to realize that the father's love had outlived this
+separation; and, moreover, indulged in no possible delusion in regard to
+himself; he did not love his father, and knew that his father did not
+love him. Madame de Fongereues was also well aware of the tender
+reverence in which Simonne was held by the Marquis, and was convinced
+that the peasant's son was not forgotten.</p>
+
+<p>Where was Simon? Were he to appear it would be ruin for the Vicomte.
+When Magdalena fully <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[Pg 59]</a></span>realized this, she snatched her son in her arms,
+and said to his father:</p>
+
+<p>"If you are not weak and childish, this Simon will never despoil our
+son!"</p>
+
+<p>De Talizac understood her.</p>
+
+<p>We resume our recital at the moment when the Vicomtesse entered her
+husband's room, where he was lying on the couch. He signed to her to
+close the door. The Marquis was the living image of his mother, except
+that her beautiful regular features became in his face bony and
+repulsive.</p>
+
+<p>"Well?" said the Vicomtesse, going up to the couch.</p>
+
+<p>"I am wounded," he answered. "The man escaped me."</p>
+
+<p>His wife frowned.</p>
+
+<p>"Really!" she said, "one might think that the Vicomte de Talizac was
+strong enough to conquer a lacquey!"</p>
+
+<p>"Hush!" cried the Vicomte, his eyes flashing fire, "do you think that I
+require you to remind me of the shame of my defeat? I have been for
+days, as you well know, on the track of the hound. I hid by the wayside
+to-night, like a murderer, and I saw him press his hand to his breast as
+if to assure himself of the safety of some package which undoubtedly
+contained the secret so necessary to the safety of our future. By what
+miracle the fellow escaped, I can't divine. I saw him fall forward, but
+he suddenly fired at me&mdash;but I did at all events as I promised you to
+do&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"I can only say that our son is ruined!"</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[Pg 60]</a></span></p><p>"No, not yet; listen to me. Pierre is with my father at this moment;
+hasten and listen to the conversation."</p>
+
+<p>"But he is locked in his room!"</p>
+
+<p>"I know that, Magdalena. Raise that curtain; you will find a door which
+opens on a staircase in the wall; go down twenty steps, then stop, pass
+your hand over the wall until you feel a spring; press it, and it will
+open. You will find a small window concealed within the room by the
+carving, and you can hear every word that is spoken&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Very good; but your wound&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Is not of much consequence; but hasten, for your son's sake."</p>
+
+<p>The Vicomtesse disappeared.</p>
+
+<p>This explains the noise that had attracted the attention of the Marquis.</p>
+
+<p>An hour later Magdalena returned to her husband. "I know enough," she
+said. "Your brother Simon is married&mdash;he has two sons, and lives in the
+village of Leigoutte."</p>
+
+<p>A cruel smile wandered over the lips of the Vicomte.</p>
+
+<p>"Ah! the invasion will then take that direction!"</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[Pg 61]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VII" id="CHAPTER_VII"></a>CHAPTER VII.</h2>
+
+<h3>THE VILLAGE.</h3>
+
+
+<p>On the 1st of January, 1814, it was known that foreign forces had
+invaded France. It was a terrible surprise when fugitives passed through
+the villages crying, "Save yourselves, while there is yet time!"</p>
+
+<p>Mothers wept for their sons, wives for their husbands, sisters for their
+brothers!</p>
+
+<p>The winter was a severe one. The Vosges mountains and the villages in
+the valleys were alike wrapped in snow.</p>
+
+<p>The inn which our readers already know at Leigoutte, presented a most
+picturesque appearance. The snow had been so heavy for several days that
+the woodcutters had not been up the mountains to bring down the wood,
+but this morning they had determined to make an attempt, and had
+gathered before the inn with their long light sledges on their
+shoulders. They seemed to be waiting for some one. "Can Simon be sick?"
+asked one of these men, finally.</p>
+
+<p>"Not he!" answered another. "He is at the school-room with the children,
+and he never knows when to leave them."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh! that is very well," grumbled a third, "but I <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[Pg 62]</a></span>think we had better
+go in and get a glass of wine, than wait here all this time."</p>
+
+<p>"Have a little patience, friend; if Simon teaches our children, it is
+that they may be better off than their fathers, and not like them be
+compelled to die with cold and fatigue some day among the mountains!"</p>
+
+<p>"Well said, friend, well said!" called out a full rich voice.</p>
+
+<p>Every one turned. The door of the school-room was open, and he who had
+spoken was standing with arms outspread to prevent the children from
+rushing out too hastily on the slippery ice.</p>
+
+<p>"Not so quick, children," he cried. "You can't fly over the snow like
+lapwings."</p>
+
+<p>A boy of about ten repeated these words to the smaller children.</p>
+
+<p>"That is right, Jacques," said Simon, "begin early, for you may have
+this school some day yourself!"</p>
+
+<p>"Good morning, Master Simon," said one of the woodcutters, taking off
+his hat, "we were just saying that we should like something warm before
+we started."</p>
+
+<p>"And you are right. I beg your pardon for keeping you waiting. I was
+just telling the children about a battle of the Republic at Valmy."</p>
+
+<p>"Take my arm, sir," cried one of the woodcutters. "That wooden leg of
+yours is not very safe on the ice."</p>
+
+<p>"Am I not here?" asked Jacques, in a vexed voice, "can I not look out
+for my father?"</p>
+
+<p>Simon laughed.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[Pg 63]</a></span></p><p>"But why," he asked, "have you not asked for wine at the inn?"</p>
+
+<p>"Because we heard that the little girl was ill, sir&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh! it is nothing of any consequence&mdash;there she is, as rosy and smiling
+as ever."</p>
+
+<p>When Simon's voice was heard, the inn awoke from its silence. A woman
+appeared on the threshold holding in her arms a pretty little creature
+about six years old.</p>
+
+<p>The mother was a simple peasant woman, wearing a peasant's dress. She
+began to fill glasses for these woodcutters, who addressed her with a
+cordial good morning.</p>
+
+<p>At this moment the door was hastily opened, and a man appeared on the
+threshold. The woodcutters uttered a cry of surprise. The man was a
+soldier, who leaned against the wall and did not speak.</p>
+
+<p>Simon hurried forward. "You are welcome, comrade," he exclaimed.</p>
+
+<p>The man turned pale, and but for Simon's support, he would have fallen
+on the floor.</p>
+
+<p>"Fran&ccedil;oise, a chair!" cried the innkeeper.</p>
+
+<p>The soldier had his head wrapped in a blue handkerchief, and drops of
+blood were upon his cheek. His uniform was in rags, and a linen bandage
+was wrapped around one leg.</p>
+
+<p>The men looked on with terrified respect while Simon tried to make him
+drink a glass of wine, and signed to Jacques to take off the soldier's
+shoes, now covered with snow.</p>
+
+<p>The soldier uttered a deep sigh of relief. He was a <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[Pg 64]</a></span>peasant of about
+forty, although his moustache was gray. His features bore the traces of
+suffering and privations.</p>
+
+<p>"Some brandy!" he gasped.</p>
+
+<p>Little Francinette carried the glass to him. He drank it, looking the
+while at the child with admiration and sad envy. Then taking her on his
+knee, he looked around him at the honest faces, and said:</p>
+
+<p>"My name is Michel&mdash;Michel Charmoze. There are thirty of us down on the
+road, all wounded, in a big wagon. The horses have fallen, one is dead,
+and we have come for help."</p>
+
+<p>The woodcutters looked from one to the other in amazement.</p>
+
+<p>"What!" cried the soldier, "do you know nothing in this land of snow? I
+have been fighting three months on the Rhine. The Emperor has deserted
+us. All is over!"</p>
+
+<p>The peasants listened in a stupefied sort of way. Only the vaguest
+rumors had as yet reached the peasants that Napoleon's star had begun to
+pale. Simon knew it, but he had held his peace.</p>
+
+<p>"Where are the wounded?" he asked, quietly.</p>
+
+<p>"A quarter of a league down the road."</p>
+
+<p>"My friends," said Simon, "we have no horses, but your arms are strong.
+You must save these Frenchmen!"</p>
+
+<p>"We are ready!" shouted twenty voices.</p>
+
+<p>"Father, may I go, too?" asked Jacques, eagerly.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," said Simon, kindly. "You may go, and take some brandy with you."</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[Pg 65]</a></span></p><p>The woodcutters took also shovels, sticks and ropes.</p>
+
+<p>"When they come back," said Simon to his wife, "you must have a good
+meal ready. Carry straw into the school-room, tear up your old sheets
+into bandages, and send to Wisembach for the doctor."</p>
+
+<p>"But the child&mdash;what am I to do with her?" asked Fran&ccedil;oise, timidly.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh! I will look out for her," cried the soldier. "I had a little girl
+of my own, but since I have been away, both mother and child have died!"</p>
+
+<p>Simon and Michel were alone for a few moments. The little girl still sat
+on the soldier's knee, gravely enlarging one of the holes in his uniform
+with her busy little fingers.</p>
+
+<p>"Then the invaders are in France?" said Simon.</p>
+
+<p>"They are, indeed, but they won't stay long&mdash;be sure of that!"</p>
+
+<p>"What army is it that is advancing in this direction?" asked Simon.</p>
+
+<p>"Schwartzemberg's, with Russians, Prussians and Austrians."</p>
+
+<p>"How far off are they?"</p>
+
+<p>"Not more than ten leagues. We were nearly overtaken by them. They would
+not have got thus far had we not been betrayed by everybody. Those dogs
+of Royalists have felt no shame to be seen with these enemies of
+France!"</p>
+
+<p>Simon started.</p>
+
+<p>"Do you mean," he asked sternly, "that the emigr&eacute;s have dared&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, they have dared to do just that!" and Michel <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[Pg 66]</a></span>swore a frightful
+oath. "I believe that there are Frenchmen who would lead these savages
+on, to roast and kill their own mothers!"</p>
+
+<p>Simon had become deadly pale.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," continued the soldier. "Let me tell you about this wound." And he
+tore off the handkerchief around his head. His eyes at that moment fell
+on Simon's wooden leg, which he had not before seen. "Ah! you are one of
+us, then?" exclaimed Michel.</p>
+
+<p>Simon nodded. "Go on with your story, my friend," he said.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, we had just crossed the Rhine, and were getting on famously when
+we saw the detachment that had attacked us. I knew by their caps that
+they were Russians. We sheltered ourselves behind a wall, and then we
+let fly. I tell you, that was a fight! In front of me was a tall fellow
+who fought like the very devil. I pricked him with a bayonet, and he
+opened his arms wide and yelled&mdash;good Lord! I hear that yell now&mdash;'I am
+killed! Here! help for Talizac!' He shot at me the same moment. Now,
+friend, was not that a French name? But what is the matter with you?"</p>
+
+<p>Simon had dropped into a chair. He was as white as a sheet, and his eyes
+were fixed on vacancy.</p>
+
+<p>The soldier looked at him for a moment. "Come!" he said, "give me
+another glass, and we will drink to our country!"</p>
+
+<p>At this moment Fran&ccedil;oise came in hurriedly.</p>
+
+<p>"Simon!" she cried, "the peasants are coming here from every direction.
+They say that the foreigners are coming this way, and they bid us fly!"</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[Pg 67]</a></span></p><p>Simon went to the door. Fran&ccedil;oise had spoken the truth. On all the roads
+and on all the mountain paths crowds were seen of men, women and
+children.</p>
+
+<p>If the rout of an army is terrible, that of a people is infinitely more
+so. This flight from home and fireside is sad beyond expression. These
+peasants were running, carrying on their shoulders all that they held
+most precious. Their houses had been searched, for these peasants had
+served in the rising of '92, and they probably had arms. An old man was
+shot for concealing a pistol. At another place brutes had insulted the
+women, and burned the cottages deserted by the fugitives. This was the
+day that Napoleon Bonaparte had replied to the <i>corps legislatif</i>, who
+supplicated him to return to the people their lost liberty: "France is a
+man!&mdash;I am that man&mdash;with my will, my fame, and my power!"</p>
+
+<p>The woodcutters now returned, dragging the huge wagon they had dug out
+of the snow-drifts. Simon rapidly explained to several peasants the
+preparations he had made, and under his instructions they hastened to
+remove the wounded from the wagon. It was a terrible sight&mdash;eleven out
+of the twenty-eight were dead. But in fifteen minutes the living were
+lying on the fresh straw spread in the school-room, and Simon and his
+wife were going from one to another of these poor sufferers, alleviating
+their sufferings as far as possible. Suddenly a great noise was heard
+without, followed by the most profound silence. Simon started.</p>
+
+<p>"What was that!" he asked, quickly.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[Pg 68]</a></span></p><p>The door opened, and Michel appeared.</p>
+
+<p>"The Cossacks!" he cried. "Come, Master Simon, come!"</p>
+
+<p>Simon obeyed, signing to his wife to take his place. He went outside,
+and beheld some twenty men mounted on thin but vigorous-looking horses.
+The men were of medium height, bearded like goats and ugly as monkeys.
+They wore loose robes fastened into the waists with red scarfs. On their
+heads were high cylindrical caps. Some wore over their shoulders cloaks
+of bear skins. Their high saddles formed boxes in which they could pack
+away their booty. They looked down on the crowd with small, twinkling
+eyes set far in under bushy brows and low foreheads. At their head was
+an officer in the Austrian uniform.</p>
+
+<p>The crowd fled to the further end of the open space, and the women
+clasped their crying children to their breasts. Simon walked directly
+toward the officer.</p>
+
+<p>"Who are you, and what do you want?" he asked, politely but firmly.</p>
+
+<p>The officer did not seem to hear him&mdash;he was looking intently at the
+inn. Simon repeated his question, this time in German. The Austrian then
+concluded to look at him.</p>
+
+<p>"Is this village Leigoutte?" he asked. "And is that your inn?" And the
+soldier pointed to the inn.</p>
+
+<p>"What business is that of yours?" asked Simon, who by this time had
+become excessively angry.</p>
+
+<p>"Give my men something to drink."</p>
+
+<p>Simon clenched his hands as he replied:</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[Pg 69]</a></span></p><p>"I never give anything to the enemies of my country!"</p>
+
+<p>The Cossacks understood him and uttered a groan.</p>
+
+<p>"We shall take it by force, then!" said the officer, spurring his horse
+toward Simon, but the latter pulled out a pistol and pointed it at the
+Austrian.</p>
+
+<p>"One step further!" he shouted, "and I will blow out your brains!"</p>
+
+<p>The Austrian pulled up his steed, and saying a few words to his men,
+they turned their horses and departed.</p>
+
+<p>"We shall see you again!" shouted the Austrian, over his shoulder.</p>
+
+<p>The peasants uttered a shout of joy, but Simon was very thoughtful.</p>
+
+<p>"Why," said he, to himself, "should there be a reconnoissance expressly
+for this village?"</p>
+
+<p>The men now crowded around Simon.</p>
+
+<p>"You frightened them well!" they said. "How ugly they are!" They
+laughed, and seemed to think all danger was past.</p>
+
+<p>Simon and Michel exchanged a look, then the former raised his hand to
+command silence.</p>
+
+<p>"My friends," he said, "they will return, and bring many more with them.
+Those among you who are not afraid to fight, may remain with me. But we
+must see at once about a place of safety for the women and children. It
+will be easy for twenty or thirty of us to keep these invaders from
+coming to this point again, for we know each mountain path. We have
+arms, for I long since concealed one hundred <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[Pg 70]</a></span>guns in my house, and
+these mountains&mdash;the ramparts of France, shall become inaccessible
+citadels. The enemy will approach in a compact column; we must send out
+scouts who will keep us informed. It is too late to-day for the attack
+to take place. Two of you will go to the neighboring villages and give
+the alarm. We will meet to-morrow at the Iron Cross. And remember,
+children, that in '92, as to-day, the invaders threatened France, and
+your fathers drove them out. May the children of those men be worthy of
+them!"</p>
+
+<p>"But about the women and children?" asked Michel.</p>
+
+<p>"They must be hidden in the farm-houses up the mountains. The wounded
+are protected by the code of war. Courage, then, and shout with me Vive
+la France!"</p>
+
+<p>These words aroused immense enthusiasm for a few minutes.</p>
+
+<p>Simon felt a hand on his; it was Fran&ccedil;oise, with her little girl in her
+arms, and Jacques at her side.</p>
+
+<p>"We shall not leave you, Simon," said his wife. "But I wish to speak to
+you a moment."</p>
+
+<p>Simon looked at her in surprise. Then turning to Michel, "You will
+complete the arrangements. Jacques will show you where the arms are
+stored."</p>
+
+<p>"Rely on us, Simon!" shouted the peasants. "We will do our duty!"</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[Pg 71]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VIII" id="CHAPTER_VIII"></a>CHAPTER VIII.</h2>
+
+<h3>THE PAST OF FRAN&Ccedil;OISE.</h3>
+
+
+<p>Simon followed his wife into the house. She closed the door behind her.
+Simon was struck by the strange expression in her face. Was it anxiety
+for him that had clouded that placid brow?</p>
+
+<p>"Friend," said Fran&ccedil;oise, "you must know all. I saw that Austrian
+officer from the window, and recognized him&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Recognized him!"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, for the man who dishonored my sister that fatal night of the 16th
+of May, 1804, at Sachemont, was not alone. He was accompanied by the
+Count of Karlstein, the man whom you have just seen. I cannot dwell upon
+the terrors of that night. I escaped&mdash;but my poor sister! Nor did I ever
+speak of that man to you. I felt that Talizac was enough for us to
+hate."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, dear, I see; and I, too, have something to tell, for, when after
+long months in the hospital at Dresden, I was permitted to leave it, I
+wandered, I know not where; but I reached a hut&mdash;it was in February,
+1805&mdash;I saw a light and knocked. There was no answer, and I opened the
+door and went in. To my horror, I beheld a woman dead, and heard an
+infant screaming its heart out."</p>
+
+<p>"Poor little Jacques!" said Fran&ccedil;oise, weeping.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[Pg 72]</a></span></p><p>"I saw a cup of milk on the table; I gave some to the infant. Presently
+you came in, and did not seem astonished to find the child in my arms.
+The physician you had gone to seek looked at the poor woman, said she
+was dead, and that he could do nothing. We were left alone together. It
+seemed as if you trusted me at once. Your hands trembled, and it was I
+who closed the eyes of the dead. The next day we followed the poor girl
+to the grave, and when one of the rough peasants who bore the bier on
+which she lay, asked you who I was, you answered simply, 'A friend!'</p>
+
+<p>"After we returned to the hut, I asked you who the dead girl was, and
+then you pronounced the name of Talizac, and heard that a gentleman of
+France had conducted himself like a base coward&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"But an honorable man said to me, 'Shall we repair the crime of another?
+Shall we not give this little one a home and a family?' I became your
+wife, your happy, honored companion, and poor Jacques will never know
+that he owes his life to a base profligate."</p>
+
+<p>Simon laid his hand on his wife's head.</p>
+
+<p>"Do you know why Simon Foug&egrave;re wished to make reparation for the crime
+of the Vicomte de Talizac?"</p>
+
+<p>"Because Simon Foug&egrave;re had a loyal and generous heart!"</p>
+
+<p>"Because," said Simon, in solemn tones, "because the Vicomte de Talizac
+is my brother!"</p>
+
+<p>"Your brother! But who, then, are you?"</p>
+
+<p>"The son of the Marquis de Fongereues," and in a few words Simon
+explained to his wife the situation already known to our readers.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[Pg 73]</a></span></p><p>"I reproach myself," concluded Simon, "for having so long concealed my
+name from you. I have not seen my father since I was a boy. I am
+indebted to him for a few years of happiness, but he was under the
+influence of others who awakened in him the pride of race. He has
+forgotten the Republican soldier, and has never cared to know whether I
+lived or died, since the day that he offered me a princely fortune, rank
+and title, to fight against France. But to return to this man, you are
+sure he is the friend and accomplice of Talizac?"</p>
+
+<p>"I am sure."</p>
+
+<p>"I have never seen my brother, but I know him to be one of the bitterest
+enemies France has. He has fought against us, and I have heard that he
+is nearly ruined. Painful as such suspicions are, I am tempted to
+believe that the appearance of this Karlstein in this out of the way
+place, is due to the fact that this renegade brother of mine has hunted
+me up, knowing that at my father's death I can claim my inheritance. I
+feel as if we were the cause of this attack on Leigoutte, which is
+really directed on the heir of the Fongereueses."</p>
+
+<p>"Horrible!" murmured Fran&ccedil;oise.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, this officer asked me if this inn belonged to me. Dear wife, it is
+now doubly our duty to take every measure for the protection of these
+people. You must take the children away. I must remain with these
+peasants. I wish you to go to the farm of old Father Lasv&egrave;ne&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[Pg 74]</a></span></p><p>"Yes, I know, a league away, in the Outremont gorge."</p>
+
+<p>"I will take you there. Lasv&egrave;ne is a man of sense, and will not be
+guilty of any imprudence."</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly Francinette, who was looking out of a window, uttered a shrill
+cry, and ran to her mother.</p>
+
+<p>"What is it?" exclaimed Simon, rushing to the window, which he threw
+open, but could see nothing.</p>
+
+<p>Fran&ccedil;oise soothed the little girl and questioned her.</p>
+
+<p>The child, still wild with fear, pointed to the window. "A man! a bad
+man!"</p>
+
+<p>The father lifted her in his arms.</p>
+
+<p>"No, no," he said, "little Francinette was dreaming. There was no one
+there!"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, I saw him; he climbed over the wall!"</p>
+
+<p>Simon took his gun and went out. Presently he returned, and with a look
+towards his wife that contradicted his words, he said, "No, it is
+nothing."</p>
+
+<p>At the same time he wrote a few words on a bit of paper, and laid it on
+the table near his wife. This is what she read:</p>
+
+<p>"The child is right; there are footprints on the wall&mdash;a spy
+undoubtedly." He said aloud: "And now, wife, make haste; there is no
+time to lose. Francinette, go to the other window and see if your
+brother is anywhere about. And Fran&ccedil;oise," Simon continued rapidly, "I
+do not think that our separation will last long, yet it is well to be
+prepared for everything. All my secret and family papers are in this
+portfolio. Take every care of it. And now, kiss me&mdash;let no one see you
+weep!"</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[Pg 75]</a></span></p><p>Michel and Jacques now entered.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, Michel, what think you of our recruits?" asked Simon, cheerfully.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, they are born soldiers, and your boy Jacques is as bright as a
+button!"</p>
+
+<p>Simon drew his child toward him.</p>
+
+<p>"My boy, I meant to take your mother and sister to some place of safety,
+but I am needed here. You must go in my stead."</p>
+
+<p>"Am I not to remain with you, father?" asked the boy, greatly
+disappointed.</p>
+
+<p>"No&mdash;you are to take care of all that is most precious to me in the
+world. God bless you all!"</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[Pg 76]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IX" id="CHAPTER_IX"></a>CHAPTER IX.</h2>
+
+<h3>WHERE THE INVASION PASSES.</h3>
+
+
+<p>Never was there solitude more complete and more magnificent than at five
+o'clock that January morning among the Vosges mountains. The snow was
+piled up, softening the rugged outlines of the mountain peaks and
+through the pale darkness dim shadows were silently moving. These
+shadows are the brave mountaineers, who have come to defend France at
+the summons of Simon, who, in spite of his wooden leg, displayed immense
+activity. Among these there were no youths. The conscription had long
+since swallowed them up. They were elderly men and boys. Two of them
+were but fourteen, but they were vigorous and determined.</p>
+
+<p>"We have arrived in time," said Simon, "but you are sure that there is
+no other road by which they can reach the village?"</p>
+
+<p>"Only the one by which the wagon came with the wounded, but that, too,
+is well guarded."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," answered Simon, "a few brave fellows could keep an army back
+there, and you know we are continually receiving reinforcements. As soon
+as they understand that the gorge is impracticable, they will give up
+the point, and we shall feel that we have rendered effectual aid to
+France."</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[Pg 77]</a></span></p><p>In the souls of these patriots there was a singular instinct of
+discipline. They listened in silence to Simon's words, and obeyed him
+whom they had taken for their leader without question or argument.</p>
+
+<p>Simon called two men and bade them climb the high rocks on one side of
+the gorge. From thence they could look down the whole valley. The mists
+of the night had slowly drifted away, and the wind had died out. A gleam
+of sunshine, as pale as moonlight, rested on the mountain top.</p>
+
+<p>The mountaineers waited long on the rocks, whither they had been sent,
+but returned to say that there was not a sound nor a movement.</p>
+
+<p>"Let us go on," said Simon.</p>
+
+<p>The gorge now became so narrow that only three men could move abreast.
+On each side rose high walls.</p>
+
+<p>"Now, then," said Simon, "hide here. Keep your eyes open, and waste no
+ammunition. And you others will pass through that cleft which commands
+the lower road. Conceal yourselves well, and as soon as a Cossack
+appears, fire. Hans!"</p>
+
+<p>A peasant ran at the sound of his name.</p>
+
+<p>"If you hear firing from either of these posts, you are to advance at
+once with twenty men. Select them now, so that there will be no
+confusion."</p>
+
+<p>Michel listened to these orders in silence.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, comrade," said Simon, "what do you think of my arrangements?"</p>
+
+<p>"They are excellent, and you ought to be a general."</p>
+
+<p>"I could serve only the Republic," answered Simon, "I resigned in
+1804."</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[Pg 78]</a></span></p><p>Michel looked at him as if he did not more than half understand, then he
+muttered, reluctantly:</p>
+
+<p>"Well, every man is entitled to his opinions."</p>
+
+<p>"Now that our arrangements are made, we two will go on," said Simon.</p>
+
+<p>They walked for some five minutes and reached the entrance of the gorge.
+There the road suddenly widened, and gently descended to the valley. On
+the left there was an enormous rock forty feet high. It was shaped like
+a pyramid standing on its apex. Simon went round it, feeling with his
+hands, tearing off bits of moss from time to time.</p>
+
+<p>"Ah! we have it. Here, Michel, dig out this place with your bayonet!"</p>
+
+<p>Michel obeyed, though without the smallest idea of what was to be done,
+and soon a hole of about a square foot was discovered.</p>
+
+<p>"Now," said Simon, triumphantly, "I defy the Cossacks to pass this
+point!"</p>
+
+<p>He laid on the ground a box that he had been carrying over his shoulder
+with great care.</p>
+
+<p>"I have ten pounds of powder here!"</p>
+
+<p>He proceeded to place this box in the hole, which it entirely filled.
+Then he produced a long wick, one end of which he inserted in the box.
+Then he nearly closed the box, leaving it only sufficiently open for the
+wick to burn easily.</p>
+
+<p>"If our guns fail us," said Simon, grimly, "this will soon settle the
+matter!"</p>
+
+<p>At this moment, from out of the woods on the side of the road sprang a
+man, shouting:</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[Pg 79]</a></span></p><p>"Save me! Save me!"</p>
+
+<p>Simon saw that the fellow was a gipsy, and that he had been wounded.</p>
+
+<p>"Save me!" repeated the gipsy, "they will kill me!"</p>
+
+<p>"Zounds! fellow," cried Michel, "who are you afraid of? I believe you
+are a spy!"</p>
+
+<p>Simon motioned to Michel to be silent, and questioned the man who
+proceeded to say that he and his companions had been seized to act as
+guides through the forest.</p>
+
+<p>"We refused," he said, "because you French had always been good to us.
+Then the soldiers killed one after the other of us as fast as we
+refused, and I ran away. They fired at me, and wounded me in the head.
+Oh! save me!"</p>
+
+<p>Neither Simon nor Michel noticed the almost theatrical exaggeration of
+this fellow's gestures.</p>
+
+<p>"The Cossacks are near?" asked Simon. "How many?"</p>
+
+<p>"About five hundred."</p>
+
+<p>"On this road?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. Hark!"</p>
+
+<p>The three men listened, and distinctly heard the smothered footfall of
+horses in the snow.</p>
+
+<p>"They are coming!" said Simon.</p>
+
+<p>The Bohemian crouched against the rock, and hiding his face, shivered
+with fear.</p>
+
+<p>Simon entered the gorge, and carrying his fingers to his lips made a
+noise that sounded like the hoarse caw of a crow. Other signals answered
+this, showing that all were ready.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[Pg 80]</a></span></p><p>Simon stood listening. The sounds came nearer and nearer, and,
+presently, some fifty yards away, appeared the Cossacks. They came
+slowly, uneasy at the profound silence. Simon aimed at the leader, fired
+and the Cossack fell. Frightful yells filled the air, but they continued
+to advance.</p>
+
+<p>Then from every rock and tree came a rain of balls, the echoes from the
+granite walls making the invaders suppose that the opposing force was a
+hundred times what it really was.</p>
+
+<p>The Cossacks were ready enough to return the fire, but they saw no
+enemy; not a human being. Still they moved on, closing up their ranks,
+and their horses trampling on the dead bodies of their comrades. They
+reached the gorge. The peasants, sure of their prey, now forgot all
+prudence, and showed themselves. The Cossacks, with cries of rage,
+answered their fusillade. The scene was an absolute butchery.</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly, a man in the uniform of the Helmans waved his sword, and the
+Cossacks pulled up their horses and turned them with inconceivable
+dexterity. This movement showed the length of their column. The gipsy
+was right, there were hundreds.</p>
+
+<p>Simon, at this moment, uttered the exclamation:</p>
+
+<p>"Back with you!" he cried. "To your places among the rocks!"</p>
+
+<p>The mountaineers had seen the Cossacks fall, and all the old hatred that
+had sent their fathers to the Rhine in '92, again sprang to life in
+their veins. They rushed from out their shelter, regardless of danger.
+They heard Simon's voice, but did not understand his order, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[Pg 81]</a></span>their rage
+deafened them. They had hitherto been amenable to discipline, but they
+were intoxicated by victory. It seemed to them that they could crush the
+invasion then and there. In vain did Simon shout "Halt!" They went on,
+and reached the rock.</p>
+
+<p>"I don't like this," said Simon. "This retreat of the Cossacks looks
+like a ruse. Our men must go no further."</p>
+
+<p>Then took place a horrible thing. The peasants were trying to crowd
+through the narrow passage by the rock. They were in such haste that
+they formed a struggling mass. Then from the dark corner rose the gipsy
+with the Judas face, and glided to the corner where hung the torch
+arranged by Simon. Presently, there was a little flash of light, and the
+gipsy threw himself far down the slope, just as a fearful explosion was
+heard. The rock split and fell upon the peasants. Of these valiant
+patriots only five remained&mdash;seven with Michel and Simon. They all stood
+nailed to the ground with horror.</p>
+
+<p>And back came the Cossacks at full gallop. The rock had cut off all
+retreat. These seven men were between the barred-up gorge and the
+Cossacks.</p>
+
+<p>Michel was the first to fall pierced by a lance. Simon realized that
+these men will reach his home, his wife and children, before he was
+nailed to the trunk of an oak by a Cossack's sword, and now Simon is
+dead!</p>
+
+<p>Over this body of this hero, rolls the horrible flood that is to engulf
+France.</p>
+
+<p>Talizac, Simon's brother, had said that the invasion should take this
+direction!</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[Pg 82]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_X" id="CHAPTER_X"></a>CHAPTER X.</h2>
+
+<h3>THE HUT AT OUTREMONT.</h3>
+
+
+<p>How did the Cossacks ever discover that poor little hut sheltered among
+the rocks?</p>
+
+<p>Simon's wife and children reached this place, and said to old Lasv&egrave;ne:</p>
+
+<p>"Simon is fighting for France. Will you give us shelter?"</p>
+
+<p>Lasv&egrave;ne took them in with a simple "yes." They were all very weary.
+Jacques had done all in his power to protect his little sister, who was
+not in the least frightened, only curious.</p>
+
+<p>The old man shook out some fresh straw, gave them each a great bowl of
+smoking soup, and said:</p>
+
+<p>"Everything here is yours, eat and sleep."</p>
+
+<p>And when all was quiet the old man brought out two guns, which he had
+kept in spite of Napoleon's edict. He sat down by the fire, and began to
+clean them.</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly, he felt a hand&mdash;a small one&mdash;laid on his arm, and a voice
+said,</p>
+
+<p>"What are you doing with your guns? Do you think there is any danger
+here?"</p>
+
+<p>The old man hesitated for a reply, and the boy said,</p>
+
+<p>"Show me how to manage them, it may be useful."</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[Pg 83]</a></span></p><p>Lasv&egrave;ne hesitated a moment, but finally decided to teach little Jacques
+how to fire these long guns. The boy quickly grasped the movement. When
+he bit his first cartridge he made a wry face. When one is inexperienced
+the powder gets between the teeth.</p>
+
+<p>"Once more," he said, "I am not quite sure yet."</p>
+
+<p>When the clock struck three, Jacques could load the gun like any old
+grenadier, but he had not been permitted to fire it.</p>
+
+<p>"Your mother is asleep and little sister too," the old man said.</p>
+
+<p>Jacques did not persist.</p>
+
+<p>"Now lie down, my boy, and get a little sleep."</p>
+
+<p>At six o'clock in the morning&mdash;it was at that hour that Simon died&mdash;a
+pistol shot scattered the straw on the roof of the hut.</p>
+
+<p>Lasv&egrave;ne rushed to the door and half opening it, cried:</p>
+
+<p>"The Cossacks!"</p>
+
+<p>He knew them well, for he had been in the campaign of 1805.</p>
+
+<p>Jacques started to his feet, and Fran&ccedil;oise, pale as death, clutched her
+little girl to her breast.</p>
+
+<p>"They are only going by," said Lasv&egrave;ne. "They know there is nothing to
+pillage here."</p>
+
+<p>Lasv&egrave;ne believed himself and his guests under his roof to be safe. He,
+therefore, threw open the door wide.</p>
+
+<p>He saw about fifty Cossacks.</p>
+
+<p>"I am not making any defence," he said, "what do you want?"</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[Pg 84]</a></span></p><p>The old soldier said this reluctantly, for the blood leaped hot in his
+veins, but he had a woman and two children there.</p>
+
+<p>The Cossacks sat still on their horses, and seemed to be waiting. For
+what were they waiting?</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly and most incomprehensibly, from behind old Lasv&egrave;ne came two
+shots. Two Cossacks fell. Who had fired? He ran back into the hut.
+Jacques stood near the chimney, looking at the guns which he had not
+fired. Who had?</p>
+
+<p>These shots were answered by a furious clamor. A volley was fired into
+the cottage. Lasv&egrave;ne ran to the other side of the hut, and saw two men
+running away. It was these men who fired. Both were dressed like
+gipsies, but one was Cyprien, the lacquey of Monsieur de Talizac.</p>
+
+<p>"We are lost!" thought Lasv&egrave;ne.</p>
+
+<p>Instantly he pulled across the door his old oaken chest, and piled
+chairs and tables upon it, the bed, everything that was movable in the
+hut. Then, snatching one gun, he said:</p>
+
+<p>"We must fight. Take the other!"</p>
+
+<p>The Cossacks were amazed, but they fired through the window.</p>
+
+<p>"Now!" cried Lasv&egrave;ne, and an officer fell. Jacques handed him the other
+gun, and loaded the first.</p>
+
+<p>Again a Cossack fell.</p>
+
+<p>Fran&ccedil;oise rushed to the old man's side.</p>
+
+<p>"Save the children!" she cried.</p>
+
+<p>"At the peril of your life?" he asked.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," was the reply of the devoted mother.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[Pg 85]</a></span></p><p>"Then take the other gun!"</p>
+
+<p>Fran&ccedil;oise obeyed.</p>
+
+<p>"Come!" said the old man to Jacques.</p>
+
+<p>"No," answered the boy, "they will kill mamma!"</p>
+
+<p>"For Simon's sake!" cried Fran&ccedil;oise.</p>
+
+<p>Then Lasv&egrave;ne stooped to the ground, and with the aid of an iron ring
+lifted a trap door.</p>
+
+<p>"Down with you!" said the old man. "It is a subterranean passage, and
+leads to the Fongereues estate. You have a league to go. God guard you!"</p>
+
+<p>Another deafening discharge of musketry. The mother sank on her knees.</p>
+
+<p>"Save Francinette!" she moaned.</p>
+
+<p>"They have killed my mother!" sobbed the boy.</p>
+
+<p>"Go!" cried Lasv&egrave;ne, "they are coming in!"</p>
+
+<p>He seized the little girl and put her in her brother's arms, and
+thrusting a pistol into the hands of the little fellow, he pushed him
+toward the trap door.</p>
+
+<p>"Mother! Mother!" cried the boy.</p>
+
+<p>There was no time to lose. Lasv&egrave;ne lifted him by the collar and dropped
+him into the dark hole, and closed the cover. Fran&ccedil;oise extended her
+arms to the old man. "Thanks!" she said.</p>
+
+<p>"We are caught like rats in a hole!" he growled.</p>
+
+<p>The Cossacks began to tear down the walls.</p>
+
+<p>"Can you walk?" said the old soldier to Fran&ccedil;oise.</p>
+
+<p>"No!"</p>
+
+<p>"Then you must die!"</p>
+
+<p>"Will the children be saved?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes."</p>
+
+<p>"Then do what you will!"</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[Pg 86]</a></span></p><p>Lasv&egrave;ne snatched a burning log from the fire and threw it into the
+middle of a pile of brushwood.</p>
+
+<p>"Fan it!" he whispered hoarsely.</p>
+
+<p>And Fran&ccedil;oise dragged herself forward and fanned the flames with her
+dying breath.</p>
+
+<p>"Brave woman!" cried Lasv&egrave;ne. "And now, welcome death! Vive la France!"</p>
+
+<p>He poured his flask of powder on the floor. There was a terrible
+explosion.</p>
+
+<p>Fran&ccedil;oise and old Lasv&egrave;ne have done their duty ere they died. The walls
+of the hut fall, and hide the trap door.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[Pg 87]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XI" id="CHAPTER_XI"></a>CHAPTER XI.</h2>
+
+<h3>CHILDREN IN DARKNESS.</h3>
+
+
+<p>The trap door closed on the two children, leaving them in total
+darkness. Lasv&egrave;ne had not thought of that.</p>
+
+<p>The boy hesitated. His mother had bidden him save Francinette&mdash;here was
+safety, even if there were also darkness. He kissed his little sister
+tenderly.</p>
+
+<p>"Can you walk, dear?" he said.</p>
+
+<p>"No&mdash;I am afraid!"</p>
+
+<p>Jacques remembered that he was ten, and that Francinette, who was only
+six, had a right to be afraid.</p>
+
+<p>"Afraid!" he repeated, "what is there to fear? I am not afraid!"</p>
+
+<p>He was not speaking the truth, but he had a vague idea that it was not
+wrong to tell a falsehood on this occasion. He placed Francinette on the
+ground, and she clung to his legs. He passed his hand over the wall, and
+they slowly crept on. The ground was slippery and the air foul. Suddenly
+Jacques tripped and fell. The little girl began to cry. Her brother had
+lost his hold on the wall, and when he gathered himself up, he missed
+the touch of those little hands.</p>
+
+<p>"Cinette! Cinette!" he cried.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[Pg 88]</a></span></p><p>She replied with sobs, and he suddenly realized that these sobs were
+becoming fainter and fainter. Where was she?</p>
+
+<p>"Cinette! stand still."</p>
+
+<p>The voice replied:</p>
+
+<p>"Jacques! Oh! mamma! I want mamma!"</p>
+
+<p>It was plain that the child was lost, and that several paths ran from
+the point where he stood. He called to his sister again&mdash;no reply. He
+began to run, and came up against the wall. He started again, then
+stopped. He saw a red light at the end of a long gallery. This light
+came from the funeral pyre of Fran&ccedil;oise and the old man.</p>
+
+<p>The boy smiled&mdash;he fancied that aid was coming. He called: "Mamma!
+Mamma!" Suddenly his hurrying feet encountered an obstacle, and he fell
+from a height. His head struck a rock, and he felt the blood stream over
+his face. Then he fainted.</p>
+
+<p>How long he lay there he never knew. After a while he struggled to his
+feet, and then hurried on, always away from the red light, not toward
+it. Suddenly he felt the air strike his face, and he saw the sunshine.
+The subterranean passage ended. He emerged upon a plain. An old ch&acirc;teau
+stood on the brow of a hill opposite.</p>
+
+<p>"If I go there," he said to himself, "I can find people who will look
+for Francinette with me."</p>
+
+<p>He tried to run; his foot slipped. He looked down and beheld a pool of
+blood. A dead body lay near, and then another, and another&mdash;death and
+slaughter everywhere!</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[Pg 89]</a></span></p><p>These were French soldiers who had been surprised and shot. Three guns
+were fastened together, holding a pot over a fire not yet entirely gone
+out.</p>
+
+<p>Jacques was now wild with terror; he wished he were back in the darkness
+of the subterranean passage, but still he struggled on for his little
+sister's sake. Suddenly he started. Around the neck of a soldier he saw
+a cord to which hung a bugle. Jacques made his way to the body. He
+extended his arm, then pulled it back, but impelled by the hope of
+safety, he at last succeeded in reaching the bugle without touching the
+body, but he could not take it away because of the cord. Then Jacques
+closed his eyes, and supporting himself on one hand, he placed his lips
+to the mouth of the bugle. His face was very near that of the dead
+soldier. He remembered the lessons he had received from Simon.</p>
+
+<p>"Tarara! Tarara!"</p>
+
+<p>The sound came rich and full, but the exertion had been too great.</p>
+
+<p>Jacques fainted, and his pale face lay on the stiff, outstretched arm of
+the dead soldier.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[Pg 90]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XII" id="CHAPTER_XII"></a>CHAPTER XII.</h2>
+
+<h3>THE RISING SUN.</h3>
+
+
+<p>That morning the worthy Schwann, whose ancestors had kept the inn known
+as the Rising Sun for one hundred and fifty years, said that in all his
+experience he had never been so busy. Three travelers, three guests in
+February! It was most amazing. And the worthy innkeeper knew that this
+was not all. Six more strangers might arrive at any moment; but when he
+was asked who these strangers were, he winked mysteriously, but looked
+highly pleased. At the hour when this chapter opens, Master Schwann had
+just witnessed a veritable slaughter in his poultry yard; pots and
+saucepans were smoking on the fire, and vigorous preparations were made
+in the kitchen.</p>
+
+<p>The door was suddenly thrown open, and loud laughter made the windows
+rattle. The innkeeper started, but before he could speak, he was lifted
+off his feet by the long arms of a vigorous looking young man, with a
+most enormous mouth. His costume was something wonderful; a startling
+combination of colors; a red coat, a yellow vest trimmed with huge black
+buttons, green breeches and long black hose.</p>
+
+<p>"Iron Jaws!" cried the innkeeper, struggling in the grasp of the
+Colossus.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[Pg 91]</a></span></p><p>"Yes, my best beloved cousin, Iron Jaws it is; let me give you a good
+shake of the hand."</p>
+
+<p>"Not too hard!" said Schwann, plaintively.</p>
+
+<p>"You are not glad to see your old friend, then?"</p>
+
+<p>"Not so; but you are so strong that you hurt people without knowing it.
+But where are all the rest of you?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh! they are coming on. I did not want to hurry Brelion and Bechette."</p>
+
+<p>"What! Have you those two animals yet?"</p>
+
+<p>"To be sure. Why not? They don't look their age."</p>
+
+<p>"And your wife?"</p>
+
+<p>Gudel, or Iron Jaws, as he was called, hesitated a moment.</p>
+
+<p>"Things are going smoothly there, I hope," said the innkeeper, with a
+wink.</p>
+
+<p>"Well! We will talk of something else, if you please!"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh! women, women! you have much to answer for!" sighed the innkeeper.</p>
+
+<p>"I was happy enough with my first wife, though, and Caillette is her
+very image."</p>
+
+<p>"She must be a big girl, now, it is five years since I saw her."</p>
+
+<p>"And she is nearly sixteen. An angel without wings!"</p>
+
+<p>"How does she get on with your wife?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh! Roulante can't endure her!"</p>
+
+<p>Schwann shook his head.</p>
+
+<p>"Ah! my lad, you made a great mistake. I felt it <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[Pg 92]</a></span>when you told me that
+you were about to marry the giantess. She had something about her eyes I
+didn't like. She doesn't ill-treat Caillette, I hope?"</p>
+
+<p>"Not if I know it!" answered Gudel, clenching his enormous fist. "Just
+let her lay a finger on the girl, that is all!"</p>
+
+<p>"You need not get so excited. And now about Bobichel&mdash;how is he?"</p>
+
+<p>"Just the same as ever, honest and stupid."</p>
+
+<p>"And Robeccal?"</p>
+
+<p>"I mean to get rid of him for reasons of my own."</p>
+
+<p>"And the little boy?"</p>
+
+<p>Gudel shouted with laughter.</p>
+
+<p>"The little boy! Just wait until you see him. He is six feet, and a
+treasure. I am strong, but Fanfar is different from me. He has wrists
+and ankles like a woman, with the hands of a Duchess, but his back and
+shoulders are iron and his fingers steel. He is, moreover, as good and
+gentle as possible."</p>
+
+<p>"You love him as much as ever, I see."</p>
+
+<p>The excellent Gudel opened his mouth to speak, when with loud fife and
+horn, the wagon that held all his worldly possessions rattled up to the
+door.</p>
+
+<p>We will call the vehicle a chariot, as it is more complimentary than the
+title of wagon. Four huge wheels held the body of this vehicle, from
+which rose posts striped like barbers' poles, decorated with
+parti-colored curtains.</p>
+
+<p>Underneath the chariot hung all sorts of queer looking things&mdash;kegs of
+wine, rope, ladders, baskets, and hoops with torn covers of rose colored
+tissue paper.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[Pg 93]</a></span></p><p>Bobichel must be mentioned first, as he stands on one of the shafts and
+blows a long horn. The clown is dressed all in yellow with a gray hat.
+His legs looked like matches in their striped hose. His head was small
+and pointed, his nose very long and very sharp.</p>
+
+<p>Behind Bobichel sits Caillette, Gudel's daughter, a pretty, dainty
+creature with light hair. She turned with a merry laugh to say something
+to a third person, who lay on a pile of bundles of all shapes and sizes,
+and smiled back upon the young girl. Still further back was a huge mass
+which might be supposed to be a woman, from the tawny locks that floated
+over the shoulders, and if out of curiosity one examined more closely, a
+large face with pendant cheeks was discovered, a retreating forehead, a
+pair of small, half closed eyes. A double, or rather a triple chin,
+rested on an enormous bosom, which seemed to have torn half the buttons
+from a much spotted cloth waist. This charming being was known as La
+Roulante, in which sobriquet was lost her real name of Charlotte Magnan.
+She was also the lawful wife of Gudel.</p>
+
+<p>And finally, to complete this hurried description, we must mention a
+person who followed the chariot on foot. He was short, slender and bow
+legged, very pale, and had light eyes without lashes. His scanty hair,
+as white as an albino's, escaped from a vizorless hat. His costume was
+much like his appearance; a well worn velvet coat, much too short in the
+sleeves, and long fingered hands, with one peculiarity, that the thumbs
+were as long as the fore fingers.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[Pg 94]</a></span></p><p>"Ah! you have come, children, have you?" cried Gudel. "And I am
+thankful, for hunger gnaws my vitals."</p>
+
+<p>"And mine, too," Bobichel replied, throwing a somersault as he spoke;
+which he ended with a sudden leap on the shoulders of the good Schwann,
+who stood the shock with wonderful philosophy.</p>
+
+<p>But at the third shout he decided to go outside. When the giantess saw
+him, she called out, angrily:</p>
+
+<p>"Are you coming to help me?"</p>
+
+<p>Gudel looked on with concentrated rage, and as Robeccal went toward the
+chariot, he said to him:</p>
+
+<p>"Not another step!"</p>
+
+<p>"Indeed! And who will prevent me?"</p>
+
+<p>Gudel's eyes flashed.</p>
+
+<p>"Scoundrel!" he muttered under his breath.</p>
+
+<p>"Well! are you coming?" called La Roulante. "Give him a push and come
+on!"</p>
+
+<p>These words encouraged the fellow, but as he moved toward the chariot
+Iron Jaws struck him a tremendous blow in the chest. Robeccal pulled out
+a knife and leaped on Gudel, but was caught by Fanfar and tossed in the
+air as if he had been a ball. The fellow landed nearly at the side of
+the giantess, who tumbled herself off the chariot and rushed upon
+Fanfar. Schwann appeared at the door at this moment.</p>
+
+<p>"Dinner is ready, good people," he said, soothingly.</p>
+
+<p>Robeccal said a few words in a whisper to the giantess, who shrugged her
+huge shoulders and made at once to the dining-room. Gudel held out his
+arms to his daughter.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[Pg 95]</a></span></p><p>"Jump, child!" he said.</p>
+
+<p>And the girl obeyed. The father kissed her tenderly, for the two loved
+each other very much.</p>
+
+<p>"Do you mean to stay there forever, Fanfar?" was Gudel's next remark.</p>
+
+<p>Fanfar was the person to whom Caillette had addressed her smiles. With a
+laugh he swung himself down, and hung by his wrists a moment.</p>
+
+<p>"Good boy!" said Gudel. "You mean to keep yourself in practice, I see."</p>
+
+<p>Robeccal, with his hands in his pockets, lounged into the kitchen, and
+stood watching the preparations for dinner. La Roulante sat as
+motionless as the Sphynx in the Desert. Gudel said to her, respectfully:</p>
+
+<p>"Are you coming?"</p>
+
+<p>The woman turned her eyes slowly upon him, and then, with a sniff of
+disdain, called for Robeccal, who heard the stentorian shout, but did
+not care to be disturbed in his contemplation of the spit on which the
+fowls were roasting.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[Pg 96]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIII" id="CHAPTER_XIII"></a>CHAPTER XIII.</h2>
+
+<h3>MISCHIEF.</h3>
+
+
+<p>While these people were repairing the fatigues of their journey, a door
+opened very softly at the end of the room. But Schwann heard it. This
+door had access to the stairs which led to the upper floor. He instantly
+hastened toward the person, who stood half concealed.</p>
+
+<p>This man was about forty, small, and wearing a brown cloth coat, braided
+and trimmed with Astrachan. His vest was blue, as was a neckerchief. He
+wore straps and spurs&mdash;a costume, in fact, in the last mode of 1825&mdash;and
+yet, no human being looked less like a dandy. His feet were huge, his
+hands ugly and bony. His face expressed timidity and hypocrisy. He took
+off his hat as Schwann approached. The stranger's eyes were half closed,
+as if the light from the long windows pained them&mdash;in reality, he was
+examining each face at the table.</p>
+
+<p>"You want breakfast, sir, I presume?" asked the innkeeper.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," said the other, "yes, yes," but he did not seem to have
+understood the question, although he took a seat at one of the tables.</p>
+
+<p>"Give me some brandy!" he said. "I am expecting <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[Pg 97]</a></span>some one, and when he
+comes you will serve our breakfast up-stairs."</p>
+
+<p>"Very good, sir!" And Schwann walked away. "He is the intendant of some
+great lord, I fancy," he said to himself.</p>
+
+<p>Again the door opened, and two more customers appeared. One looked like
+a horse jockey, the other, though in citizen's dress, was without doubt
+an old soldier. His heavy gray moustache imparted a certain harshness to
+his expression, though his eyes were frank and honest.</p>
+
+<p>"Where shall I serve your breakfast, gentlemen?" asked the innkeeper.</p>
+
+<p>There was a little hesitation. The last arrivals noticed the man in the
+brown braided coat, and did not seem to like his appearance. It was
+plain that some mysterious tie existed among these travelers, however,
+for Iron Jaws, hearing the voices of the new-comers, looked up and
+exchanged a rapid glance with them.</p>
+
+<p>"We will eat there," said one of the two men, pointing to a table at
+some distance from the man in brown, who smiled slightly as he saw the
+gesture. He himself had been in the meantime supplied with a decanter of
+brandy, and now took some newspapers from his pocket, one of which he
+began to read, holding it in such a way that he was concealed from the
+observation of every one in the room.</p>
+
+<p>When Schwann brought in a delicious-looking omelette, the horse jockey
+said, in a loud voice:</p>
+
+<p>"Is R&eacute;misemont far from here?"</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[Pg 98]</a></span></p><p>"R&eacute;misemont! Ah! gentlemen, it is plain that you do not belong in these
+parts. It is not more than two leagues away."</p>
+
+<p>"Then we can easily get there this afternoon?"</p>
+
+<p>Schwann saw that he had made a blunder, and endeavored to retrieve it.</p>
+
+<p>"We had better call it three leagues, and the road is a bad one, and you
+have to ford the river. There has been a great deal of rain, and two men
+were drowned there last year; and, by the way, they looked much like
+you."</p>
+
+<p>"Many thanks!" And the old soldier laughed.</p>
+
+<p>"They didn't know the road, you see&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"But you can furnish us with a guide?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, but not to-day."</p>
+
+<p>"And why not?"</p>
+
+<p>"Because I am alone in the house."</p>
+
+<p>The mountebanks had by this time finished their meal. Gudel came toward
+the two men.</p>
+
+<p>"If these gentlemen desire it," he said, politely, "I will take them on
+early to-morrow morning in my wagon."</p>
+
+<p>"That is an excellent idea!" cried the innkeeper. "With Iron Jaws there
+is no danger."</p>
+
+<p>The strange costume worn by Gudel, and the equally strange name by which
+Schwann called him, did not seem to amaze the two strangers. They
+consulted each other with a look, and then courteously accepted the
+offer.</p>
+
+<p>"I give a little representation here to-night," Gudel <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[Pg 99]</a></span>continued, "and
+start at an early hour for R&eacute;misemont."</p>
+
+<p>Nothing could have been more natural than this scene, nor that Gudel
+should have accepted the brandy and water offered him, and it would have
+been a very distrustful nature that would have suspected any secret
+understanding between Gudel and the two men with whom he was now
+drinking. Nevertheless, the man behind the newspaper, who had not lost a
+word of this dialogue, smiled until he showed every tooth in his head.</p>
+
+<p>The giantess and Robeccal left the room together. After a few words
+together, Robeccal returned, and asked Gudel if he wanted him again, and
+when his employer said no, that he was at liberty, he once more left the
+room. The man behind the newspaper did the same, and the two met in the
+passage.</p>
+
+<p>"One word, if you please," said the man in the brown coat. "Answer me
+frankly, and you shall have twenty francs. Who is Iron Jaws?"</p>
+
+<p>"A mountebank."</p>
+
+<p>"He has another name?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes&mdash;Gudel."</p>
+
+<p>"Do you know the two men with whom he is talking?"</p>
+
+<p>"No."</p>
+
+<p>"You hate him?"</p>
+
+<p>"What is that to you?"</p>
+
+<p>"A good deal, and to you, too, if you wish him any harm. You are a
+member of his troupe?"</p>
+
+<p>"Not for long, you had better believe!"</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[Pg 100]</a></span></p><p>"Long enough to earn a few louis?"</p>
+
+<p>"What do you want done?"</p>
+
+<p>"I will tell you. If you hate this Gudel I will give you an opportunity
+to pay off your score, and I will pay you at the same time."</p>
+
+<p>"That is nonsense!"</p>
+
+<p>"All right. I am in no hurry. I can wait an hour or two."</p>
+
+<p>The man took a louis from his pocket and dropped it on the ground.
+Robeccal put his foot upon it. During this brief colloquy the two men
+had not looked at each other. The stranger lounged away, indifferent to
+all appearance, and Robeccal picked up the gold and disappeared in a
+different direction.</p>
+
+<p>Meanwhile, Gudel was talking in a low voice to his apparently new
+acquaintances. Schwann had returned to his saucepans.</p>
+
+<p>"Well?" said the soldier, leaning over his glass as if to smell the
+wine.</p>
+
+<p>"All goes well," answered Gudel. "The grain was well sown&mdash;the harvest
+waits."</p>
+
+<p>"We will talk elsewhere. Did you notice that fellow who sat reading over
+there in the corner?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes&mdash;a bad face. A lacquey, I think."</p>
+
+<p>"A lacquey or a spy. Look out for him! Now, when and where can I see you
+quietly?"</p>
+
+<p>"To-night, after the representation, in my room or yours."</p>
+
+<p>"In yours, then. We will wait until the house is quiet. Leave your door
+open. And now, be careful that no one suspects our presence here!"</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[Pg 101]</a></span></p><p>"What! not even Fanfar? You need not distrust him. He is good, brave,
+and devoted to you."</p>
+
+<p>"We will talk of that later on." In a louder voice he said: "Then,
+comrade, we will accept your offer, and go with you to R&eacute;misemont
+to-morrow."</p>
+
+<p>Gudel nodded, then called Fanfar.</p>
+
+<p>"To work, my lad," he cried. "We must stir up these excellent people in
+this village. Schwann, where is my permit from the mayor?"</p>
+
+<p>Schwann hurried in wiping his hands, and from under a pile of plates he
+drew out a paper.</p>
+
+<p>"Fanfar, sign it for me, your hand is better than mine, for the truth is
+I never learned to write. And now this is done, we must go forth and
+warn the people of the great pleasure in store for them."</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[Pg 102]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIV" id="CHAPTER_XIV"></a>CHAPTER XIV.</h2>
+
+<h3>TWO PLACES, S. V. P.</h3>
+
+
+<p>In five minutes all the population of Saint Am&eacute; was on the Square, for
+in these Lorraine villages amusements are rare. They were watching the
+erection of an enormous shed covered with canvas and strange pictures.
+An enormous handbill with letters that could be read a hundred feet off,
+bore most astonishing inscriptions. At the top was Iron Jaws, who held
+enormous weights with his teeth. The Giantess, who ate raw pigeons, or
+any other fowl that was most convenient. The wonderful Almanzor (that
+was Robeccal,) a descendant of the Moors of Spain, crushed glass with
+his teeth and swallowed swords. Then there was Caillette, the
+rope-dancer, who charmed the world with her voice, as well as with her
+aerial lightness. And lastly, in letters of the same length as those
+which Gudel used for himself, came Fanfar's name.</p>
+
+<blockquote><p>
+"FANFAR! FANFAR! FANFAR!<br />
+<br />
+"<span class="smcap">Strength, Skill, Dexterity</span>.<br />
+<br />
+"He knows everything. He can do everything!"<br />
+</p></blockquote>
+
+<p>And finally, there was a representation of a human pyramid, at the top
+of which was Caillette, all smiles, and a flower in her hand.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[Pg 103]</a></span></p>
+<p>The good peasants were naturally delighted with all this.</p>
+
+<p>Iron Jaws, with his hands in his pockets, was marching up and down,
+giving his orders like a general at the head of an army. Suddenly he
+called,</p>
+
+<p>"Bobichel!"</p>
+
+<p>Between two pictures, one of which was a lion devouring a crocodile,
+appeared the clown's head, grinning from ear to ear. He was so utterly
+grotesque that the crowd shrieked with laughter.</p>
+
+<p>Bobichel's name did not appear on the handbill. It had been omitted to
+leave more room for that of his friend Fanfar, and Gudel had called him
+to introduce him, so to speak, to the crowd.</p>
+
+<p>Fanfar and Caillette were alone. He was trying the ropes of the trapeze,
+while she was giving some finishing touches to the interior decoration.
+Suddenly, she stopped and looked up at Fanfar, who was swinging from a
+wooden bar. An artist would have been struck with the beauty of his
+figure.</p>
+
+<p>Caillette watched him breathlessly as he went through his exercises, and
+as he dropped at last on the floor, so lightly that his feet scarcely
+left their imprint, she threw both arms around his neck.</p>
+
+<p>"How bad you are!" she cried, "you frighten me half out of my wits."</p>
+
+<p>"Frighten you, child! Are you not yet accustomed to my exercises, little
+sister?"</p>
+
+<p>Caillette colored, and half turned away.</p>
+
+<p>"Why do you call me little sister?" she said.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[Pg 104]</a></span></p><p>Fanfar dropped her hands, which he had taken from his neck. A cloud
+passed swiftly over his brow.</p>
+
+<p>"Because we have been brought up together," he answered, slowly. "You
+were not more than six years old when your father took me into his
+service. But does it vex you for me to call you sister?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, it does not vex me, but I would rather you did not."</p>
+
+<p>Fanfar understood her, and was disturbed. He had long since seen in the
+girl a growing passion for himself. Her innocence and purity were
+exquisite, but at the same time she loved Fanfar. He did not love her.
+He would have given his life for her, but he did not wish to spend it
+with her, and at the thought of Caillette as his wife he drew back. He
+now disengaged himself gently from her clinging arms.</p>
+
+<p>"To work!" he said, "it is growing late."</p>
+
+<p>Caillette took up her needle, as the door opened to admit Gudel. He was
+not alone, two ladies of aristocratic bearing were with him.</p>
+
+<p>"But, my dear Ir&egrave;ne, this is a strange caprice," said the elder of the
+two. "What will the Countess say?"</p>
+
+<p>"My dear Madame Ursula, it would oblige me if you would cease your
+moans, that is, unless you should prefer to return to the ch&acirc;teau
+alone!"</p>
+
+<p>The dear Madame Ursula was a tall, thin woman, wearing blue glasses. She
+was evidently a companion or governess.</p>
+
+<p>Ir&egrave;ne, in her riding-habit, looked about twenty. Her hair was jet black,
+and curled over a marble white brow. Her hat, Louis XIII. in shape, with
+curling <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[Pg 105]</a></span>plumes, gave a haughty expression to her dainty features. She
+looked as if she might have stepped from out the frame of one of the
+pictures of Velasquez. Her beauty was striking. Fanfar grasped it,
+Caillette studied it.</p>
+
+<p>"Pray tell me," said the young lady to Gudel, "if you have no seats
+where I can avoid contact with the crowd? I am ready to pay any sum you
+ask."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh! we have but one price, ten sous."</p>
+
+<p>The governess uttered a small gasp, and the young girl shrugged her
+shoulders impatiently.</p>
+
+<p>She drew out a handful of gold pieces from her bag.</p>
+
+<p>"Take these," she said, "and do the best you can for me."</p>
+
+<p>Gudel was puzzled and troubled.</p>
+
+<p>"Fanfar!" he called, "have you time to construct a sort of private box
+for these ladies?"</p>
+
+<p>Fanfar advanced, and when Caillette saw the admiring gaze he riveted on
+the stranger, she clenched her little hands.</p>
+
+<p>"I don't think I quite understand," he said.</p>
+
+<p>Ir&egrave;ne replied:</p>
+
+<p>"It is a very simple matter. I desire to be present at your exhibition,
+and I do not care to mingle with the vulgar herd."</p>
+
+<p>Fanfar listened to these words very coldly, and then said:</p>
+
+<p>"What you ask is impossible."</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know about that," interposed Gudel, quickly. "I think a private
+box could be quickly made with a few boards&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[Pg 106]</a></span></p><p>"Only I refuse to make it," said Fanfar.</p>
+
+<p>"You refuse?"</p>
+
+<p>Ir&egrave;ne started. Caillette smiled and blushed.</p>
+
+<p>"And may I know why?" asked the stranger, with a disdainful smile. "Why
+does&mdash;&mdash;" She hesitated for the name. Fanfar supplied it. "Why does
+Monsieur Fanfar refuse to gain a few louis for his master?"</p>
+
+<p>"Not his master," said Gudel, hastily.</p>
+
+<p>"Let me speak," interrupted Fanfar. "I will explain to the lady. Our
+public are bourgeois and common folk who support us, and bring us
+success. Their hands are large, but they applaud well. They are good
+people, and I do not wish to humiliate them. To do what you ask would
+wound them deeply."</p>
+
+<p>Ir&egrave;ne listened, with a frown.</p>
+
+<p>Gudel retreated to the background where he indulged in a silent laugh.</p>
+
+<p>Fanfar waited, calmly.</p>
+
+<p>"This is a lesson you read me?" she said, at last.</p>
+
+<p>"No, Mademoiselle, it is only advice. Make yourself beloved by these
+peasants. I have much to do, and pray that you will excuse me."</p>
+
+<p>He bowed, and was about to retire.</p>
+
+<p>"Monsieur Fanfar," said Ir&egrave;ne, "you are right, and I thank you."</p>
+
+<p>Then, turning to Gudel, she asked him with bewitching grace to retain
+two seats for her.</p>
+
+<p>"Certainly, and the best. Will we not, Fanfar?"</p>
+
+<p>The young man met Ir&egrave;ne's eyes, and started.</p>
+
+<p>"Will you give these few louis to the poor?" added Ir&egrave;ne, "and I will
+accept two seats gratefully."</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[Pg 107]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XV" id="CHAPTER_XV"></a>CHAPTER XV.</h2>
+
+<h3>MASTER AND SERVANT.</h3>
+
+
+<p>When the young girl, followed by Madame Ursula, who was choking with
+rage, emerged upon the Square, all the peasants lifted their hats.</p>
+
+<p>"There is the carriage!" said Ursula.</p>
+
+<p>A lacquey in livery approached, leading a fine English horse. Ir&egrave;ne
+arrested the animal.</p>
+
+<p>"Do you intend to mount again? I thought," said Madame Ursula, "that you
+had promised to return in the carriage with me."</p>
+
+<p>But Ir&egrave;ne was already in her saddle.</p>
+
+<p>The governess continued:</p>
+
+<p>"The Comtesse expected&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Never mind that! And now, John, to the Ch&acirc;teau at once," said Ir&egrave;ne,
+galloping off.</p>
+
+<p>"Who is that lady?" asked Bobichel.</p>
+
+<p>"Mademoiselle de Salves," a peasant replied, "the wealthiest heiress in
+the neighborhood."</p>
+
+<p>"A handsome girl!" muttered Bobichel.</p>
+
+<p>"She is too haughty to those beneath her," said some one.</p>
+
+<p>"She is made of Paris stuff," said another. "She's not calculated for
+our village."</p>
+
+<p>A new incident now occurred.</p>
+
+<p>A post-chaise, drawn by vigorous horses, now <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[Pg 108]</a></span>dashed into the Square,
+and drew up before Master Schwann's inn.</p>
+
+<p>Before the worthy innkeeper could come down the steps to welcome the new
+arrival, another person had dashed past him. This was the man, who,
+sheltered by his newspaper, had so closely watched all that was going on
+around him.</p>
+
+<p>"Monsieur le Marquis," he said, presenting his arm to the gentleman in
+the post-chaise, "I see my letter reached you in time."</p>
+
+<p>The new arrival is not unknown to our readers; it was he who, earlier in
+our tale, was known as the Vicomte de Talizac, and who to-day, by the
+death of the old Marquis, had been invested with all the titles of the
+Fongereues family.</p>
+
+<p>Ten years had elapsed since we last saw him, and though hardly forty, he
+seems an old man&mdash;his figure is bent and his stern face covered with
+wrinkles.</p>
+
+<p>The man who was waiting for him had long been his accomplice; together
+they had concocted the criminal plan to which Simon fell a victim, and
+as a reward for his villainy, Cyprien had been made intendant instead of
+valet.</p>
+
+<p>The Marquis entered the inn and looked around suspiciously, but saw no
+one but Schwann, who stood hat in hand; he did not advance, as the frown
+of the Marquis was far from encouraging.</p>
+
+<p>"Serve dinner in my room," said Cyprien, and he showed the silent
+Marquis up-stairs.</p>
+
+<p>When Schwann had laid the table and placed the dinner upon it, Cyprien
+took him aside.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[Pg 109]</a></span></p><p>"You need not come up again, unless I call you."</p>
+
+<p>"Very good, sir."</p>
+
+<p>"And this is not all; please do not gossip about my master. If any one
+questions you, make no reply."</p>
+
+<p>"What could I say?" asked Schwann. "I know nothing!"</p>
+
+<p>"You might indulge in suppositions, which I advise you to avoid."</p>
+
+<p>"Zounds!" muttered Schwann, as he descended the stairs, "all these airs
+displease me! I very much prefer my rope dancers to this great lord!"</p>
+
+<p>Cyprien looked up and down the corridor, and listened at the doors of
+the next rooms, to ascertain that they were empty.</p>
+
+<p>The Marquis, in the meantime, had thrown his hat and cloak on the bed.</p>
+
+<p>"We are alone?" he asked impatiently.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, sir."</p>
+
+<p>"Speak, then. Your letter told me that you have found traces of that
+miserable Labarre."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, sir, and I trust you will be satisfied with what I have done."</p>
+
+<p>"Did you see the man?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, sir. Your instructions were to avoid all contact with him. I know,
+however, where to lay my hands on him."</p>
+
+<p>"You have done well. I wish my presence here to be like a thunderclap to
+him. And then I expect that in his terror he will make the avowal which
+will be my salvation."</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[Pg 110]</a></span></p><p>"May I ask, sir, if your affairs have in any way ameliorated since my
+departure?"</p>
+
+<p>"Ameliorated!" Fongereues repeated with an angry gesture, "no, quite the
+contrary. Ruin is approaching with rapid strides, and in a few months I
+shall be lost!"</p>
+
+<p>"But the favor of His Majesty&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>Fongereues laughed bitterly. "His Majesty cares little for me. Ever
+since I was unfortunate enough to displease his fair friend, the tide
+has turned."</p>
+
+<p>"But can nothing be done?"</p>
+
+<p>Fongereues shrugged his shoulders. "What is the use? I am sick of
+man&oelig;uvering and intriguing. I have told the king that his faithful
+emigr&eacute;s should be his best counsellors, and that it was his duty as well
+as his interest to rely on me. But it was of no use.</p>
+
+<p>"They think they have paid us," the Marquis continued, "because they
+have thrown us, as food to the dogs, a few louis of indemnity. As if
+France were not ours, as if we had no rights over these people who have
+assassinated their king and kissed the feet of an adventurer; but they
+are afraid, and talk of patience. I told His Majesty, one day, of my
+embarrassments. 'Sir,' he said to me, 'a Fongereues never begs!' and the
+next day I received four thousand louis. Confound the nonsense!"</p>
+
+<p>Cyprien could not refrain from a smile. Four thousand louis did not seem
+to him a trifle, nor nonsense.</p>
+
+<p>"But His Majesty is interested in your son."</p>
+
+<p>"My son! These Puritans have much to say about my son. He gambles and he
+does other shocking <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[Pg 111]</a></span>things. One would think, to hear them talk, that
+they were themselves paragons of virtue. As soon as the Vicomte marries
+and settles down&mdash;by the way, what about Mademoiselle de Salves?"</p>
+
+<p>"I only arrived last night, and have simply learned that their ch&acirc;teau
+is not more than two leagues away, and that they must soon leave it to
+return to Paris."</p>
+
+<p>"Four millions!" cried the Marquis. "And to think that this fortune may
+escape us!"</p>
+
+<p>"The marriage is not yet decided, then?"</p>
+
+<p>"Not precisely; and the smallest incident may ruin my plans. This
+Labarre must be made to speak, even if violence be necessary."</p>
+
+<p>"He is an incorruptible old fellow, and these honest people are
+sometimes very hard to deal with."</p>
+
+<p>The Marquis looked at him intently for a minute or two in silence, and
+then, with an indescribable smile, said:</p>
+
+<p>"I think we can manage him, nevertheless!"</p>
+
+<p>Cyprien smiled.</p>
+
+<p>"You know, beside," continued the Marquis, "that I am not ungrateful.
+Let this Labarre surrender this secret and my son become the husband of
+young Ir&egrave;ne de Salves, and my position becomes stronger than ever. And
+you may be certain that I shall not forget you!"</p>
+
+<p>"I hope, sir, that it may be soon in my power to render you a most
+important service."</p>
+
+<p>"What may that be?"</p>
+
+<p>"You are aware, I presume, that I take great interest in the
+preservation of the present <i>r&eacute;gime</i>?"</p>
+
+<p>"I was not aware of that," the Marquis said, with a <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[Pg 112]</a></span>slight elevation of
+the eyebrows. It seemed to him that the opinions of Monsieur Cyprien
+were of little importance, and that the government was not likely to
+benefit by his sympathy and protection.</p>
+
+<p>"The fact is, sir, your future and that of the monarchy are too nearly
+allied for me to separate the two questions."</p>
+
+<p>"You are right."</p>
+
+<p>"And, in addition, I hold relations with persons who condescend to
+recognize in me a certain ability in the management of confidential
+matters."</p>
+
+<p>"Pshaw! Who are these persons!"</p>
+
+<p>"I will give you the name of one, sir&mdash;Monsieur Franchet."</p>
+
+<p>And Cyprien stole a glance at his master, who started in spite of all
+his self-control. This Franchet was at the climax of his celebrity, and
+exercised the mysterious function of Director-General of the Police. He
+owed his elevation solely to the Society of Jesus. This occult power,
+whose ramifications extended all over France, was mysterious and
+tremendous in its workings. No one could expect any favor if he did not
+first render this society most abject homage.</p>
+
+<p>Cyprien now became invested with immense importance in the eyes of the
+Marquis. He was now not only an accomplice, but a protector, who might
+become a formidable adversary.</p>
+
+<p>A brief silence followed this revelation, and then the Marquis bade
+Cyprien go on with what he was saying.</p>
+
+<p>"I was saying, sir, that I have employed all the resources of my weak
+mind in the defence of the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[Pg 113]</a></span>sacred interests of the society, and that I
+had the power to replace you in the position which your imprudence has
+forfeited!"</p>
+
+<p>The lacquey was becoming insolent.</p>
+
+<p>"And how will you perform this miracle?" asked the Marquis.</p>
+
+<p>"By including you in the great plan which will prove our zeal for the
+monarchy."</p>
+
+<p>The Marquis frowned. He was not pleased at the association!</p>
+
+<p>Cyprien dropped his voice.</p>
+
+<p>"A vast conspiracy," he said, "is forming to overthrow the king!"</p>
+
+<p>The Marquis started.</p>
+
+<p>"Not so&mdash;the monarchy is strong."</p>
+
+<p>"There is no chariot so strong that it is not at the mercy of a grain of
+sand. I assure you, sir, that the danger is real. A Republican
+party&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>Fongereues shrugged his shoulders.</p>
+
+<p>"A <i>Republican</i> party," repeated Cyprien, emphasizing the word, "is
+covering the country with its net. In a few months&mdash;in a few weeks,
+perhaps&mdash;a movement will burst out simultaneously all over France, and
+it may come to pass that the throne will fall quicker than we think.
+Royalty is unpopular in these days. Strength is the only sustaining
+force. And is the throne strong enough to resist a general uprising? I
+doubt it. And I, poor servant that I am, can arrest this movement, even
+now! I can betray the chiefs of this association. But I am an
+insignificant person. No matter how great the services may be that I
+render, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[Pg 114]</a></span>a bone or two will be thrown to me to gnaw, and that will be
+deemed sufficient. But let the Marquis de Fongereues, peer of France,
+denounce at the Tuileries the formidable association that threatens the
+throne and the altar&mdash;let him present himself in the cabinet of the king
+with his hands full of proofs&mdash;let him show the documents and the lists
+of the conspirators, and the Marquis de Fongereues will become master of
+France. He may exact any recompense he pleases for saving the throne and
+the altar!"</p>
+
+<p>The Marquis rose hastily. His eyes flashed.</p>
+
+<p>"And you say that this formidable secret is yours Cyprien?"</p>
+
+<p>"I hold the threads of the plot in my hand!"</p>
+
+<p>"And yet, you are ready to abandon the benefits which would assuredly be
+yours should you decide to make the revelation?"</p>
+
+<p>"I am, first of all, your servant, sir!"</p>
+
+<p>"Throw your cards on the table, Cyprien! What do you want me to do in
+exchange for this great service?"</p>
+
+<p>"I impose no condition. I have faith in the generosity of my master."</p>
+
+<p>"And you are right!" the Marquis replied. "If I succeed, I will make you
+rich, and place you so high on the social ladder that the greatest names
+in France will bow before you!"</p>
+
+<p>"Thank you, honored sir. When the hour arrives, I will remind you of
+your words. But now we must think of Pierre Labarre. Time presses!"</p>
+
+<p>"I am ready. Where are we to find him?"</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[Pg 115]</a></span></p><p>"Two leagues from here, near the little town of Vagney."</p>
+
+<p>"It is now three o'clock," said the Marquis. "We can surely return here
+to-night. You had best order the horses at once."</p>
+
+<p>When the Marquis was alone, he bowed his face in his hands.</p>
+
+<p>"If I could believe him!" he murmured. "But I am afraid!"</p>
+
+<p>A few brief words of explanation are here necessary. The Fongereues
+family re-entered France with the allied armies, and immediately
+obtained the favor of the king. The old Marquis was elevated to the
+peerage, and Magdalena felt that her ambitious projects were on the eve
+of fulfilment. The Vicomte de Talizac easily obtained proof of the death
+of Simon Foug&egrave;re; his wife and children had disappeared, and probably
+perished. The Vicomte, therefore, did not hesitate to claim as sole heir
+the estate on the death of the Marquis in 1817. But this estate, though
+considerable, was far less important than he and Magdalena had hoped.
+The Vicomte was deeply in debt, and his creditors became impatient. If
+he and the Vicomtesse had not been madly extravagant, all the more so
+from the restrictions they had so long endured, their revenues would
+have been more than sufficient. But these two persons, who had not
+recoiled from a terrible crime to ensure their undisputed possession of
+the Fongereues fortune, were now carried away by a wild thirst for
+excitement and gayety. The h&ocirc;tel they <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[Pg 116]</a></span>occupied became the scene of
+perpetual f&ecirc;tes and the rendezvous of the aristocracy.</p>
+
+<p>Magdalena's son, who now bore the title of the Vicomte de Talizac,
+brought up amid this mad prodigality, developed early the faults of his
+nature, which were increased by the foolish indulgence of his mother.</p>
+
+<p>His father read his character at a glance, and cautioned Magdalena, who
+at the first syllable he uttered silenced him in the most peremptory
+manner.</p>
+
+<p>"Do you think," said Magdalena, "that my son is to conduct himself as if
+he were to earn his bread by the sweat of his brow? I am happy to say
+that he knows nothing of your petty economies."</p>
+
+<p>As her husband protested, she lowered her voice and looked him full in
+the face. "Do you think," she said, "that it was to make a beggar of my
+son, that I told you to kill the other?"</p>
+
+<p>The two guilty creatures gazed at each other; the Marquis was the first
+to turn his uneasy eyes away. From this moment the struggle began, and
+the Marquis led a most terrible life.</p>
+
+<p>Before long the alliance with Mademoiselle de Salves was projected. This
+marriage was to the Marquis de Fongereues the last plank between himself
+and destruction. Unless this plan was carried to a happy termination, he
+was ruined. Already there were rumors floating about the court of spots
+on the hitherto untarnished shield of the Marquis de Fongereues. People
+were beginning to desert the h&ocirc;tel as rats fly from a falling house. The
+haughty manners of the Marquis and of Magdalena had conciliated no one.
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[Pg 117]</a></span>The insolence of Talizac had become proverbial; he had fought several
+duels from which he had come off unharmed. The approaching fall of this
+detested family was hailed with delight. It is therefore easy to
+understand why the Marquis was so eager to find Pierre Labarre.</p>
+
+<p>He was interrupted in his reflections by Cyprien, who now returned with
+the innkeeper.</p>
+
+<p>"I am sorry, sir," said the latter, "to be the bearer of annoyances. You
+know that we at this season are liable to inundations, and we have just
+learned that the torrent that crosses the road at Vagney is rising
+rapidly, and makes it dangerous to travel."</p>
+
+<p>"But is there no other road?"</p>
+
+<p>"None which is not equally flooded. Every where the danger would be just
+as great."</p>
+
+<p>"I am willing to pay any price to get on this afternoon."</p>
+
+<p>The innkeeper did everything to place obstacles in the path of the
+Marquis, who, however, insisted on going.</p>
+
+<p>"Well!" said Schwann, to himself, "I shall not be easy until they
+return, for I fear that the inundation has only just begun."</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[Pg 118]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVI" id="CHAPTER_XVI"></a>CHAPTER XVI.</h2>
+
+<h3>WALK IN, GENTLEMEN!</h3>
+
+
+<p>While Gudel and Fanfar were making arrangements for the representation
+of the evening, while Fongereues and Cyprien exchanged their honest
+confidences, Robeccal went forth to meet La Roulante.</p>
+
+<p>It was this amiable giantess whom Gudel had been foolish enough to
+marry, although what charms he had discovered in this mountain of flesh
+it would be difficult to say. But he was alone; he was very unhappy over
+his wife's death, and La Roulante had consoled him. When once in
+possession of Gudel's name, this woman frankly threw aside the mask and
+displayed her real qualities and disposition. She was covetous and
+intemperate, presenting, in fact, an extraordinary specimen of human
+depravity. She hated Caillette for her youth and her beauty; she hated
+Fanfar for his goodness, and hated Gudel for his patience and for his
+good spirits.</p>
+
+<p>Robeccal joined the troop. Gudel had found him dying of hunger, and had
+rescued him. Soon he and Roulante were on excellent terms; both were
+thoroughly vicious. This liaison was furthermore cemented by a common
+hatred, and now they wanted to kill Gudel and Fanfar. They wished to
+keep Caillette <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[Pg 119]</a></span>that they might torture her as children torture young
+birds.</p>
+
+<p>These two excellent persons, Robeccal and the giantess, sat down by the
+roadside and talked over their plans.</p>
+
+<p>At this time the peasants had long been deprived of all amusements, and
+the circus company had been welcomed with enthusiasm which would
+certainly result in heavy receipts. If Iron Jaws should disappear by
+accident, or in any other way, La Roulante would remain mistress of this
+money, of the chariot and the horses&mdash;a snug little fortune, if properly
+managed.</p>
+
+<p>The giantess only wished to get rid of Gudel, whom she now hated, and
+marry this man whom she loved. It was clear that Gudel's suspicions were
+excited&mdash;in fact, his wife and Robeccal were doing their best to arouse
+him.</p>
+
+<p>If Gudel were dead, La Roulante would look out for his daughter, of
+course, and the giantess saw opening before her a vista of delightful
+cruelties she could practice on the girl. But Fanfar would certainly be
+in the way, for he never would allow the child to suffer, and therefore
+it was plain that Fanfar should disappear with Gudel.</p>
+
+<p>Such steps as these required serious consideration, and it was growing
+dark when these two conspirators returned to Saint Am&eacute;.</p>
+
+<p>In the meantime, two of our friends were taking a walk. Though the
+justice of this phraseology may be questioned, my readers shall judge.
+Bobichel placed <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[Pg 120]</a></span>his hat carefully on the side of the road, and then
+gravely began the charming exercise which is called the "frog." Bobichel
+did this with the most remarkable ease, and his wittiest sallies were
+uttered in this attitude.</p>
+
+<p>Caillette laughed, and at once began to dance, standing on the points of
+her toes and whirling round and round.</p>
+
+<p>But they were not so absorbed in their practice that they refrained from
+talking.</p>
+
+<p>"You are sad," said Bobichel.</p>
+
+<p>"No," answered Caillette, suddenly throwing out her left leg.</p>
+
+<p>Bobichel picked up a sou with his teeth.</p>
+
+<p>"Has anybody been worrying you, dear?" he asked, as soon as he had
+disposed of the coin.</p>
+
+<p>"Nobody," answered the girl, dancing on. "If I am sad, it is about
+nothing, at all events. Everybody has dark hours&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Indeed they have. And Caillette, listen. There are, indeed, people
+about us,"&mdash;and the frog drew up his legs and jumped at least a
+foot&mdash;"this Robeccal will play us a trick some fine day, and your
+father's wife&mdash;well! we will see, we will see. But here they come, and I
+am sure they have been plotting together."</p>
+
+<p>"Come, Bobichel, do not let us wait until they overtake us," cried
+Caillette.</p>
+
+<p>"Do you think I shall run away? Now you go on, little girl; after a
+while I will overtake you. I want to have a little talk with this
+villain!"</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[Pg 121]</a></span></p><p>"Don't get into any trouble, papa would be offended."</p>
+
+<p>"Good-bye, then."</p>
+
+<p>Robeccal saw the girl run off toward the village, and a wicked smile
+gleamed over his face.</p>
+
+<p>"Good," he said, between his teeth, "we shall make you pay for that!"</p>
+
+<p>When he reached Bobichel, who was still in his frog attitude, the clown
+gave a flourish with his leg and his foot, quite by accident of course,
+knocking off Robeccal's hat.</p>
+
+<p>"Look out!" cried Robeccal.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh! a thousand pardons," answered Bobichel, "I did not see you!"</p>
+
+<p>"Didn't you! Well! little Caillette saw me, and ran away, as if the
+devil were coming."</p>
+
+<p>"A girl's nonsense. Never mind her. I am glad she has gone. The truth
+is, these people are putting on airs, and I don't like it."</p>
+
+<p>Robeccal was no fool, and these words inspired him with suspicion. "Does
+he want me to talk?" he said to himself. And he was right in this idea.</p>
+
+<p>"And as for Fanfar!" continued Bobichel, now standing on his feet.</p>
+
+<p>"And what of him? You are as intimate as possible with Fanfar?"</p>
+
+<p>Bobichel, with a sagacious nod, replied, "Of course I am, he is the
+master's favorite, but all the same I am not pleased with him. He eats
+our bread, and what does he do?"</p>
+
+<p>"He adds to the success of the entertainments."</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[Pg 122]</a></span></p><p>"I think, Robeccal, you are trying to provoke me. Because he is strong,
+because he has learned a lot of things, and can play on a lot of
+instruments, does not prove that he is worth more than either of us."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh! if I only knew whether you were to be trusted!" cried Robeccal.</p>
+
+<p>Bobichel in vain tried to preserve utter impassibility. Robeccal
+surprised a look in his eyes, which he translated at once as meaning,
+"He is going to speak. I have him."</p>
+
+<p>"I am to be trusted," said Bobichel, "particularly if there is a dirty
+piece of business on hand!"</p>
+
+<p>This was enough. Robeccal was warned.</p>
+
+<p>"Well then," he said, in a whisper, "I am about to leave Gudel."</p>
+
+<p>"No, not really!"</p>
+
+<p>"And if you desire, we can start together. I know of a place where we
+shall be received with open arms. What will Iron Jaws do without us! I
+laugh when we think of it!"</p>
+
+<p>"It is a good idea," said Bobichel. "When shall we go?"</p>
+
+<p>"One of these nights, when it is not cold."</p>
+
+<p>"Have we far to go?"</p>
+
+<p>"What! Already afraid of fatigue? We will make that all easy, but I must
+go now!"</p>
+
+<p>"Where are you going?"</p>
+
+<p>"Come now, Bobichel, none of that! I don't like questions, and I don't
+choose to be watched!"</p>
+
+<p>And Robeccal walked off.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[Pg 123]</a></span></p><p>The clown looked after him, and then began to pound his own head until
+tears came to his eyes.</p>
+
+<p>"Idiot! Fool!" he muttered. "Will you never learn any sense. Why did you
+let that rascal see your game? You must warn Fanfar without delay."</p>
+
+<p>And as he saw some boys looking at him, they thinking that his despair
+heightened his comic appearance, he began to run toward the inn.</p>
+
+<p>Gudel met him at the door.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, Bob, what is the matter? You look disturbed. Come in, and take a
+glass of wine. And Schwann, join us."</p>
+
+<p>An hour later, the Square of Saint Am&eacute; was bright with lights, to the
+great joy of the peasants, who uttered many ohs! and ahs! as they
+entered the shed. Bobichel stood at the door.</p>
+
+<p>"Come in, gentlemen and ladies, come in!" And then he continued his
+shouts. "Wonderful Spectacle. The amazing Iron Jaws! The Wild Woman! And
+Fanfar! Come in, gentlemen, come in!"</p>
+
+<p>Caillette, behind the curtain, was looking through a hole, with beating
+heart, murmuring, "She is not coming."</p>
+
+<p>And Robeccal, passing La Roulante, whispered in her ear, "It is done!"</p>
+
+<p>A horse, covered with sweat, was pulled up before the door.</p>
+
+<p>"You have not forgotten me?" said Ir&egrave;ne de Salves to Bobichel.</p>
+
+<p>Gudel came forward.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[Pg 124]</a></span></p><p>"We were waiting for you before we began. But you are alone!"</p>
+
+<p>"My governess will be here in a moment."</p>
+
+<p>"She has come!" said Caillette, turning pale and looking up at Fanfar,
+who was arranging an iron chain, and did not seem to have heard.</p>
+
+<p>And the clown continued to say;</p>
+
+<p>"Come in, gentlemen, come in!"</p>
+
+<p>And the peasants, elbowing each other, said, "Oh! we must see this; it
+won't kill us for once."</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[Pg 125]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVII" id="CHAPTER_XVII"></a>CHAPTER XVII.</h2>
+
+<h3>ROBECCAL'S IDEA.</h3>
+
+
+<p>The frequenters of the theatres and circuses of the present day would
+consider this establishment of Gudel's very modest, with its single
+gallery, a little red serge, and its shabby velvet curtain. There was an
+orchestra, but what an orchestra! All the actors when not occupied on
+the stage assisted in it. Gudel at intervals played the trombone. The
+gallery was crowded; so crowded that, from time to time, there were
+ominous crackings, but the people in their excitement did not notice
+this.</p>
+
+<p>But a great silence fell on the spectators, when Ir&egrave;ne de Salves
+entered. Erect and haughty, she moved through the crowd, with the
+slightest possible inclination of the head in apology for disturbing
+them.</p>
+
+<p>A word here in regard to this young lady. She was looked upon as a very
+eccentric person. Her father had followed Bonaparte's fortunes, and had
+fallen in Russia, leaving his widow sole guardian of this girl, then
+only four years of age.</p>
+
+<p>The Countess, broken-hearted at her loss, shut herself up in the
+ch&acirc;teau, and devoted herself to her daughter. Ir&egrave;ne seemed to have
+inherited her father's adventurous spirit, and her mother encouraged
+rather than restrained it, so great was her joy in the resem<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[Pg 126]</a></span>blance. She
+had his exuberant vitality, his contempt for danger, and his pride of
+race. Ir&egrave;ne, possessing an enormous fortune and accustomed to the
+indulgence of every caprice, soon began to look upon herself as of
+superior clay to these peasants who doffed their hats to her as she
+passed. She believed in the great power of money, and the Countess
+encouraged this belief. But illness came, and the Countess was confined
+to her sofa by paralysis. She lived now only for her daughter, and it
+was the one bright spot in her day when Ir&egrave;ne rushed in, bringing with
+her fresh air and the sweet scents of the woods.</p>
+
+<p>The child had become a woman, a woman full of contradictions. She was by
+turns charitable or pitiless, benevolent or disdainful. Sometimes, gay
+as a child, she rode all over the country&mdash;other days she hid herself in
+the woods or climbed to some inaccessible height, and there, with ardent
+eyes, indifferent to the wind that tossed her dark hair, she dreamed
+those dreams in which girls delight. She had moods of motiveless
+irritation, and of unreasonable indulgence. One day a village boy threw
+a stone at her horse. She pursued him with uplifted whip. Suddenly he
+turned, and folding his arms, defied her. She laughed aloud, and tossed
+him her purse.</p>
+
+<p>Another time she was told that a fire had destroyed a village. She
+hardly seemed to hear. It was winter. In the middle of the night she
+arose and saddled her horse with her own hands, and rode off to the
+sufferers, working over them for hours.</p>
+
+<p>She was not liked&mdash;none could tell why. Suddenly <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[Pg 127]</a></span>she learned, after a
+visit made by the Notary to her sick mother, that she was to marry the
+Vicomte Talizac. She cared nothing about it one way or the other. If her
+mother's heart was set upon it she was perfectly willing. The only thing
+she disliked in the plan was that she must leave her beautiful
+mountains. She had never been attracted by Paris, the streets and the
+people frightened her, but she was consoled by the thought that it would
+be a new world to conquer. On her return to the ch&acirc;teau, the daring
+words uttered by Fanfar dwelt in her memory: "Make yourself beloved."
+She had entered the booth where the exhibition had taken place, in a
+moment of idle curiosity, and was surprised at the impression made on
+her by the place and the people. She was greatly irritated withal. This
+mountebank, this rope-dancer, had taken a great deal upon himself,
+certainly. Why had she not answered him as he deserved? What did he
+mean&mdash;"Make yourself beloved"&mdash;as if she were not already beloved! She
+remembered the eyes which the peasants riveted on her. Could it be that
+they did not love her? And now she was seated on a wooden bench, Madame
+Ursula, who had at last arrived, on one side, and on the other a pretty
+but dirty child, who was playing with the fringe of her dress.</p>
+
+<p>Meanwhile the entertainment was going on. Gudel gave more than he
+promised in his handbill. Before the curtain went up, he called together
+the members of his troupe, and encouraged them to do their best. La
+Roulante went up to him, and to his great amazement said a few
+conciliatory words. As Gudel was by <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[Pg 128]</a></span>no means ill-natured, he shook
+hands with her. The giantess turned her face toward Robeccal and winked
+at him.</p>
+
+<p>Poor Gudel was very happy in this reconciliation. After all, things
+would go smoothly if he once got rid of Robeccal. Then Caillette kissed
+him, in her lace and spangles. Light as a bird, she skipped up to him
+and whispered in his ear:</p>
+
+<p>"Am I not lovely to-night, papa?"</p>
+
+<p>"Adorable!" he answered. He did not know that his darling was comparing
+herself with Ir&egrave;ne.</p>
+
+<p>Fanfar had his hands full, and seemed so little interested in the
+audience that Caillette was enchanted, for in her heart lurked a fear
+that some one would love her Fanfar. But after all it did not matter,
+for he cared little for all the beauties in the world. He handed La
+Roulante the stones which were to form her apparent nutriment. He
+whispered a new witticism to Bobichel, and gave Robeccal some advice as
+to the manner in which he should hold his sword. Then he took a position
+where he could see without being seen.</p>
+
+<p>"Now, Fanfar," said Iron Jaws, "it is your turn! Look out for
+Caillette!"</p>
+
+<p>The girl was to execute a new step on the tight-rope, and when she
+appeared, led forward by Fanfar, and made the three deep "reverences,"
+there was a hum of admiration. She was charming&mdash;her delicacy was
+fairy-like. She lightly placed her foot on Fanfar's hand and sprang upon
+the rope. Standing there, she looked at Ir&egrave;ne, who was leaning back with
+an air of indifference.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[Pg 129]</a></span></p><p>Fanfar now took up a violin, and raising the instrument to his shoulder,
+he began. He played at first very slowly. Caillette, with her arms
+folded&mdash;she had long before renounced the balancing pole&mdash;advanced up
+the rope. She knelt, and remained absolutely motionless. Then there came
+a peremptory summons from the violin. She arose and extended her arms
+above her head, and began to dance. Fanfar was an artist, his playing
+was wonderful. The music became faster and faster, and Caillette's
+little feet seemed hardly to touch the rope, they twinkled like stars,
+while Fanfar's bow looked only like a silver thread. He dropped the
+violin, and Caillette leaped into his arms. As she touched the ground,
+she threw at Ir&egrave;ne a glance of laughing triumph.</p>
+
+<p>Then came Robeccal's turn. He was a horrible object when he swallowed
+the swords. It was not admiration, it was horror, that he inspired. He
+seemed to enjoy this, and had imitated drops of blood on the sabres that
+he put down his throat. A few delicate persons shouted "Enough!" and
+Gudel appeared, not as Gudel, be it understood, but as Iron Jaws, the
+athlete. His enormous shoulders, his bull neck, contrasted with Fanfar's
+delicate form. Gudel tossed heavy weights and bent iron bars, and did
+all sorts of wonderful things. No one noticed the agility with which
+Fanfar, in his subordinate <i>r&ocirc;le</i>, passed these weights to his employer.
+And now, the principal feat was to be performed. Fanfar rolled a barrel
+upon the stage, on which already stood a curious apparatus of bars and
+chains. Over this was a platform. The <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[Pg 130]</a></span>barrel was placed under this
+platform, and filled with stones. A rim was fitted to this barrel, and
+it was hoisted a little distance from the ground by a chain. It was this
+enormous weight that Gudel was to lift with his teeth.</p>
+
+<p>Iron Jaws placed himself on this platform.</p>
+
+<p>Fanfar blew a blast from his trumpet, and Iron Jaws grasped the chain in
+his teeth. The barrel moved up and up. The crowd was absolutely silent,
+this excess of strength inspired them with terror. Suddenly, a strange
+sound was heard.</p>
+
+<p>What was it? No one knew. No one had time to see. Gudel lay insensible
+on the ground. And Fanfar had caught this barrel in his iron arms. Had
+it absolutely fallen, for the chain had broken, nothing could have saved
+Gudel. As it was, the shock deprived him of consciousness. Fanfar
+himself could hardly stand.</p>
+
+<p>Caillette and Bobichel ran to Gudel. La Roulante knelt at his side, and
+uttered shriek after shriek. Robeccal did not appear.</p>
+
+<p>The peasants gathered around the injured man. They thought him dead.</p>
+
+<p>Fanfar drew Caillette away, and then leaned over his friend.</p>
+
+<p>La Roulante pushed him aside.</p>
+
+<p>"Don't interfere," she said, "he is my husband."</p>
+
+<p>Fanfar looked her in the face, and continued his examination. He opened
+Gudel's vest and shirt, and laid his hand on his heart. There was a
+moment of silence.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[Pg 131]</a></span></p><p>"He is living," said Fanfar.</p>
+
+<p>Caillette uttered a little cry, and would have fallen had not a hand
+caught her. She turned, and saw it was Ir&egrave;ne.</p>
+
+<p>"Will you give these salts to Monsieur Fanfar?" said Ir&egrave;ne.</p>
+
+<p>"Ah! thanks!" cried Fanfar, without waiting for Caillette to give it to
+him, and took it, as he spoke, from the young lady's hand.</p>
+
+<p>"Pshaw! I have something better than that," said Bobichel, and dashing
+to the inn he returned with a bottle of brandy.</p>
+
+<p>"Two drops of this," he said, "will do more than all the salts in the
+world."</p>
+
+<p>Fanfar administered a few drops to Gudel, who presently uttered a long
+sigh.</p>
+
+<p>"Living!" cried Fanfar.</p>
+
+<p>"Heaven be praised!" shouted Bobichel. Then, turning swiftly toward La
+Roulante, he added,</p>
+
+<p>"Made a mistake, eh?"</p>
+
+<p>The giantess started.</p>
+
+<p>"Ah! he is better," said a treacherous voice. It was Robeccal who spoke.
+He feared lest his absence would look badly, and he had come back.</p>
+
+<p>"A physician is wanted," exclaimed Fanfar, turning to Schwann, who was
+weeping like a child.</p>
+
+<p>"There is none in the village, none nearer than Vagney, a league away."</p>
+
+<p>"Then I will go for him."</p>
+
+<p>"But the inundation. Fanfar, you can't do it."</p>
+
+<p>"I must try it, at all events."</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[Pg 132]</a></span></p><p>"Monsieur Fanfar," said Ir&egrave;ne, "I beg you to take my horse. She is a
+splendid animal, and goes like the wind!"</p>
+
+<p>Madame Ursula raised her hands to heaven. "A splendid animal indeed!"
+she thought, "it cost two thousand francs."</p>
+
+<p>Caillette wrung her hands in despair.</p>
+
+<p>"I accept your kindness," answered Fanfar, simply. "You are very good,
+Mademoiselle, and I thank you."</p>
+
+<p>"I remembered your words of advice," she replied.</p>
+
+<p>Fanfar looked at her a moment. Then, passing his hand over his brow, he
+seemed to try to shake himself together.</p>
+
+<p>"Let him be carried to the inn, and the doctor shall see him as quickly
+as possible," he said.</p>
+
+<p>The peasants slowly raised the injured man, and as they crossed the
+Square, they beheld a singular scene. Bobichel had Robeccal by the
+throat, and pressed his knees on his adversary's chest.</p>
+
+<p>"Ah! Bobichel," cried Schwann, "is this the time to fight?"</p>
+
+<p>Bobichel rose, and seemed to hesitate, then he flung the scoundrel from
+him, with contempt and loathing.</p>
+
+<p>Fanfar leaped upon Ir&egrave;ne's horse, and dashed off in the direction of
+Vagney.</p>
+
+<p>"My father, and he," murmured Caillette, "all that I love and have in
+the world."</p>
+
+<p>And with her handkerchief to her eyes, she followed the sad procession.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[Pg 133]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVIII" id="CHAPTER_XVIII"></a>CHAPTER XVIII.</h2>
+
+<h3>PIERRE LABARRE.</h3>
+
+
+<p>We have left the Marquis and his most excellent servant Cyprien going
+toward Vagney, but it was not without anxiety that they ventured on this
+expedition. Both these men valued their lives highly, and felt no fears
+of ordinary foes, but with an inundation no cunning would prevail.
+Cyprien was extremely uncomfortable, and held his breath to listen to
+the rush of waters. He heard it soon enough, and saw it too. The water
+looked brown and had a silver foam upon it, but high as was the torrent
+it was still confined to its rocky bed. The intendant's courage
+returned. The Marquis stopped short to look at the cataract in
+admiration, but Cyprien urged him on, for it was growing late.</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly, Cyprien laid his hand on the arm of the Marquis, who started.
+Criminals are subject to these involuntary starts.</p>
+
+<p>"We are here," said Cyprien.</p>
+
+<p>"Ah!" answered the Marquis.</p>
+
+<p>"Do you see on that side hill a tiny house, which seems to hold its
+equilibrium almost by a miracle? It is there that we shall find Pierre
+Labarre."</p>
+
+<p>"But he may not be at home?"</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[Pg 134]</a></span></p><p>"He never goes out, this hermit." And Cyprien laughed.</p>
+
+<p>The house that Cyprien pointed out was much more like a hut&mdash;it
+consisted of one story. Before the door were two or three worn stone
+steps. The door was of oak, and looked strong. On each side of the door
+was a window, which had heavy shutters that could be bolted at night.
+These were now open.</p>
+
+<p>There was not a sound nor a movement about the house, at the back of
+which was an enclosure of moderate dimensions most carefully cultivated.</p>
+
+<p>The Marquis hastened on, impatiently. He struck two or three blows with
+his cane on the door.</p>
+
+<p>A voice within called out, "Who is there?"</p>
+
+<p>The two accomplices exchanged a glance. Their expedition promised well.</p>
+
+<p>"The Marquis de Fongereues."</p>
+
+<p>Instantly the door opened, and an old man appeared. It was the man whom
+we saw in the Black Forest in the beginning of our narrative, the man
+who then escaped from the assassin, and who told the old Marquis of
+Simon's retreat. But the ten years that had since elapsed had left their
+traces on his brow; and perhaps it was not years alone that had lined
+his brow, faded his eyes, and bent his form. His face was sad&mdash;a shadow
+rested upon it.</p>
+
+<p>"Enter, sir," said the former servant of the Fongereues family.</p>
+
+<p>The room into which the Marquis stepped was simply furnished&mdash;one corner
+was curtained off.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[Pg 135]</a></span></p><p>"Please be seated, Monsieur le Vicomte," said Pierre.</p>
+
+<p>"I am forced to believe, Pierre," answered the Marquis, "that in the
+nine years that have elapsed since my father's death you have forgotten
+your good breeding. Will you kindly remember that my title is the
+Marquis de Fongereues?"</p>
+
+<p>Pierre held himself more erect. His face was like one of Rembrandt's
+pictures, where each wrinkle hides a thought.</p>
+
+<p>"I know but one Marquis de Fongereues!" he said, slowly.</p>
+
+<p>"And who may that be?" asked the Marquis, bringing his closed hand down
+upon the table.</p>
+
+<p>"The son of the man who was murdered in 1815, in the village of
+Leigoutte!" answered Labarre, with perfect calmness.</p>
+
+<p>"Murdered! That man fell when fighting against the true masters of
+France!"</p>
+
+<p>"Your brother, Monsieur le Vicomte, was killed by those who had sworn
+his death, and who struck him down, when, in defending his country, he
+was doing his duty!"</p>
+
+<p>The Marquis could hardly contain himself, his rage was so great. Cyprien
+feared an explosion. He had no objection to the man being killed, but
+not until he had been made to speak.</p>
+
+<p>"Let that pass!" said the Marquis, at last. "It is needless to awaken
+these memories." Then lowering his voice he added, with an affectation
+of pity:</p>
+
+<p>"It was a terrible affair, Pierre, and I understand <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[Pg 136]</a></span>that an old and
+faithful servant must have felt it deeply&mdash;the father, mother, and two
+children to die at the same time!"</p>
+
+<p>"You are mistaken," answered Labarre. "The father was shot, the mother
+perished in the flames, but the two children escaped."</p>
+
+<p>"It is strange that you can persist in this illusion, Pierre. Simon's
+two children are dead."</p>
+
+<p>The old man answered.</p>
+
+<p>"No&mdash;they are living!"</p>
+
+<p>The Marquis forgot himself:</p>
+
+<p>"Ah! you know, then, where they are?"</p>
+
+<p>"No; but your exclamation proves that you yourself do not believe in
+their death."</p>
+
+<p>Fongereues bit his lips.</p>
+
+<p>Cyprien shrugged his shoulders. He felt a little contempt for his master
+and doubted. The Society of Jesus would never trust him with a mission
+of diplomacy. He thought it was time for him to interfere.</p>
+
+<p>"It seems to me, sir," he said to the Marquis, "that absolute certainty
+in this matter is impossible. I have made the most careful search
+without the smallest success, though I had no difficulty in finding this
+house."</p>
+
+<p>"Ah! it was you, then, who discovered my retreat?" And Labarre shook his
+head.</p>
+
+<p>"That is enough!" interposed the Marquis. "Labarre, all this is useless.
+Give me your attention. I am about to speak of the honor of the
+Fongereues family."</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[Pg 137]</a></span></p><p>Labarre's pale face was lighted by a smile as he repeated the words:
+"The honor of the Fongereues family!"</p>
+
+<p>The Marquis shrugged his shoulders impatiently.</p>
+
+<p>"Cyprien," he said to his intendant, "you can leave us!"</p>
+
+<p>Cyprien was astonished. This was no part of the programme, but he
+remembered that he could return, and also that he could listen.</p>
+
+<p>As soon as the Marquis was alone with Labarre, an entire transformation
+took place in his manner. He seemed to throw aside a mask. He seized
+Labarre's hand, who shrank from the contact.</p>
+
+<p>"Listen to me, Pierre, and for God's sake throw aside this distrust,
+which is an insult to me. You were the friend and the confidant of my
+father, you knew his secret thoughts, and you know that he did not love
+me. I am ready to admit that my father had reason to be offended at many
+of my acts and many of my words. I was young, and very reckless. You
+see, Pierre, that I am speaking to you with entire frankness. God
+forgives the penitent. Are you harsher than He?" He felt the hand he
+held tremble in his grasp. "Guilty though I be," continued the Marquis,
+"great as have been my faults and my errors, I bear to-day the name of
+my father, and that name, Pierre Labarre, will be forever dishonored
+unless you come to my assistance!"</p>
+
+<p>"I do not understand," said Labarre. "I am an old man and poor. What can
+I do for you?"</p>
+
+<p>"I will tell you. I am ruined, my influence is lost. <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[Pg 138]</a></span>This is not all&mdash;I
+am crushed under the weight of engagements so heavy that were I to give
+up every sou I have in the world, and reduce my wife and my son to
+beggary, I could not release myself and save my honor!"</p>
+
+<p>Labarre did not speak.</p>
+
+<p>"I have tried every plan," continued the Marquis, "and&mdash;hear me,
+Pierre&mdash;I have gone too far. What would you say, Pierre, if the name of
+your old master should be borne by a forger?"</p>
+
+<p>Pierre did not evince the smallest emotion.</p>
+
+<p>"Well?" said the Marquis, breathlessly.</p>
+
+<p>"What do you want of me?" asked Pierre.</p>
+
+<p>"I will tell you. I know that my father, in order to reserve for Simon a
+portion of his fortune, and fearing, with the suspicion of an old man,
+that in some way he would lose it, made a will, which he gave to
+you&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Go on, sir."</p>
+
+<p>"This will contains a secret&mdash;it tells where this money reserved for
+Simon is concealed. This will gives direction that only Simon, or his
+heirs, shall receive this will. Simon is dead, his children have
+disappeared. Your duty is plain. This money now amounts to two millions,
+at least. What was always my father's first wish? Was it not to preserve
+his family name without a spot or blemish? Give me this will. Without
+this money I am dishonored!"</p>
+
+<p>The old man released his hand and crossed the room. He stopped before
+the dark curtain, and then, with a solemn gesture, lifted it. The
+Marquis leaned forward. This was what he saw: A sheet of iron was
+fastened <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[Pg 139]</a></span>to the wall. It was twisted and out of shape. Strange lines
+were upon it, as if flames had licked it.</p>
+
+<p>"Do you know what that is?" said Labarre.</p>
+
+<p>"No," answered the Marquis, surprised and uneasy.</p>
+
+<p>"I will tell you. Among the Vosges mountains there lived a man, honest
+and kindly. He was loved by all. He kept an inn, and taught the children
+of the peasants, to whom he sold wine. Yes, and this man bore one of the
+noblest names in France. One day cowards killed him, and at the same
+time other scoundrels and cowards, in obedience to fratricidal commands,
+attacked the house where he had so long struggled against poverty; other
+villains again attacked his wife and tried to kill his children. This,
+Monsieur de Talizac, is the sign that hung on the front of the inn kept
+by Simon, Marquis de Fongereues, and I defy you, his brother and his
+murderer, to repeat to me what you have already said in the face of this
+witness. Pray and entreat, if you will, if you dare&mdash;I, the lacquey of
+your father, reply: Cain! you are stained with the blood of your
+brother&mdash;begone!"</p>
+
+<p>The Marquis uttered a yell of rage.</p>
+
+<p>"Your memory is short, Monsieur de Talizac, and I will remind you that
+in 1817, one night the good man whom you killed with your infamy lay
+dying. You had the cruel courage to enter his room, and knelt at the
+side of his bed&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Be silent!" cried the Marquis.</p>
+
+<p>"My master cursed you, cursed you as a murderer! It was a horrible
+scene&mdash;I saw and heard it all. You implored this dying man to have mercy
+on you and <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[Pg 140]</a></span>tell you where this money was placed. But my master did not
+yield, nor will I!"</p>
+
+<p>Deadly pale, and with compressed lips, the Marquis murmured:</p>
+
+<p>"Then you refuse?"</p>
+
+<p>"I refuse&mdash;the son of Simon de Fongereues is living!"</p>
+
+<p>"And if he be dead&mdash;am I not the sole heir?"</p>
+
+<p>"I do not know."</p>
+
+<p>"You have no right to keep back a will. Once more I ask&mdash;will you
+speak?"</p>
+
+<p>"I will not!"</p>
+
+<p>"Very well. The will is here; we will take it!"</p>
+
+<p>The Marquis whistled, and Cyprien appeared.</p>
+
+<p>"We must help ourselves," said the Marquis.</p>
+
+<p>"All right!" answered the lacquey.</p>
+
+<p>Strangely enough, this man who looked so infirm now bounded back and
+placed himself behind a table. He drew from his pockets two pistols,
+which he pointed toward his adversaries.</p>
+
+<p>"Monsieur de Talizac," he said, "you tried to kill me once before, in
+the Black Forest&mdash;take care!"</p>
+
+<p>Fongereues had no arms. Cyprien had been wiser. He, too, drew a pistol,
+but before he could touch the trigger, Pierre had opened the door behind
+him.</p>
+
+<p>"For a valet," he said, "a dog is all that is required."</p>
+
+<p>A dog of the Vosges, as large as a wolf, with bloodshot eyes and
+bristling hair, flew at Cyprien's throat, who fell on the floor.</p>
+
+<p>"Help! Help!" cried the scoundrel.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[Pg 141]</a></span></p><p>The Marquis, livid with terror, had succeeded in opening the door.</p>
+
+<p>"Here, Cliep&eacute;! Here!" shouted Pierre.</p>
+
+<p>The dog gave Cyprien another furious shake, and dropped him. He rolled
+himself out of the door. Pierre flung it to and bolted it.</p>
+
+<p>"Farewell!" he cried. "You will get your punishment in another world!"</p>
+
+<p>And from his window he watched two black shadows fleeing toward Saint-Am&eacute;.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[Pg 142]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIX" id="CHAPTER_XIX"></a>CHAPTER XIX.</h2>
+
+<h3>A FIRST MEETING.</h3>
+
+
+<p>Just as Fanfar mounted his horse, an incident occurred which passed
+unperceived by the others.</p>
+
+<p>Ir&egrave;ne went up to the groom who held her horse, and with the air of
+giving him some directions, she said to Fanfar, in a low voice:</p>
+
+<p>"Are you not wounded? Are you not risking your life to save that of your
+father?" She emphasized the word father, as if to make amends for having
+previously called him master.</p>
+
+<p>"I am always ready to die for those I love!" answered Fanfar, as he
+examined the animal with attention.</p>
+
+<p>Ir&egrave;ne was silent for a moment. She admired the courage and the devotion
+of this man, but was at the same time irritated at the attraction she
+felt toward him. Obeying her sarcastic impulse, she said, quickly:</p>
+
+<p>"I have christened my horse since I saw you. His name is Fanfar!"</p>
+
+<p>Fanfar smiled.</p>
+
+<p>"Very good!" he answered, as he patted the animal's glossy side. "We two
+Fanfars must not shrink from any danger!"</p>
+
+<p>Ir&egrave;ne remembered the inundation, but before she could speak the animal
+and rider were away.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[Pg 143]</a></span></p><p>"The carriage is waiting for you," said Madame Ursula, approaching.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, let us go," answered the girl, with feverish haste, and as she
+took her seat in the carriage, she said to herself: "Yes, I see what he
+means&mdash;make myself beloved, is what he said!"</p>
+
+<p>Fanfar, directed by some peasants, was now far on the road. He tore off
+his hat and flung it away. His brow was burning. Was it his violent
+exertions that had given him this fever? Or was it the anxiety he felt
+for his adopted father? But Gudel's pale face was obscured by a mocking
+though sweet face, which flitted between him and all else. How beautiful
+she was!</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p>The two men, when they fled from the cottage of old Labarre, were
+entirely routed and discomfited. It was not the Marquis who was afraid
+of the pistol&mdash;he fled from the echo of his father's words, which the
+old servant had repeated.</p>
+
+<p>Cyprien could hardly draw a breath without pain, for the dog had wounded
+him on the throat.</p>
+
+<p>The Marquis was enraged with himself that he had taken no arms with him.
+He had supposed that he would not have the smallest difficulty in
+bending the old man to his will. Why had he not leaped at the fellow's
+throat when he opened the door?</p>
+
+<p>They had reached the rocks near the cataract, when Cyprien, seizing the
+arm of the Marquis, cried:</p>
+
+<p>"Listen!"</p>
+
+<p>The cataract roared through the narrow passage, but this was not all.
+What was that sound of crashing <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[Pg 144]</a></span>rocks? They soon discovered. Huge
+blocks of granite had rolled down from above, diverting the course of
+the water, which now tumbled down on the highway like a sheet of foam.
+And what was this behind them? Another great sheet of water coming on.
+The flood was pursuing them. The two men began to run. Suddenly the
+Marquis stumbled and fell. The water swept over him and carried him
+toward the abyss.</p>
+
+<p>"Help! Help!" cried Fongereues.</p>
+
+<p>Cyprien gathered together all his strength for one mighty effort&mdash;he was
+saved!</p>
+
+<p>The Marquis clung to the trunk of a pine tree that grew close to the
+precipice. The water rolled over his head and blinded him, but did not
+succeed in washing him away. Suddenly, from the summit of the rocks,
+came a voice.</p>
+
+<p>"Courage!" it cried, "courage!"</p>
+
+<p>The voice came from a man, but how did any man maintain a foothold
+there? He descended the rock, crying all the time: "Courage! Courage!"
+Suddenly his hands ceased to clutch the rocks, and he dropped. The water
+rose to his knees, but tempestuous as was the rush, he maintained his
+footing.</p>
+
+<p>The voice that had shouted for assistance was growing weaker. But
+Fanfar, for he it was, soon found the Marquis, but just as he had
+succeeded in reaching him he slipped, and believed himself lost.</p>
+
+<p>No, a strong hand grasped his arm and drew him up, but the burthen was
+heavy, for the Marquis was unconscious. Slowly, very slowly, Fanfar
+raised his load <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[Pg 145]</a></span>and himself, and finally sank upon the turf above,
+nearly as unconscious as the Marquis.</p>
+
+<p>Fortunately, a small lantern, which Fanfar wore at his belt, was not
+broken; he lighted it and examined the face of the man he had rescued.</p>
+
+<p>Yes, Fanfar, the resemblance is great. This is the brother of the man
+who died at Leigoutte. This is the man who outraged a woman one terrible
+night, and that woman was the sister of Simon's wife, and this man, who
+was then the Vicomte de Talizac, is to-day the Marquis de Fongereues.
+This man is your father! Does Fanfar know all this? Not he!</p>
+
+<p>The Marquis opens his eyes, he sees Fanfar in the darkness.</p>
+
+<p>"You have saved me!" he murmured.</p>
+
+<p>"Can you stand? Can you walk?" asked Fanfar.</p>
+
+<p>The Marquis struggled to his feet, but uttered a cry of pain.</p>
+
+<p>"Are you hurt?"</p>
+
+<p>"I think not, but I seem to have no strength left."</p>
+
+<p>"Wait!" said Fanfar.</p>
+
+<p>He went to the side of the rock, and examined it with his lantern. He
+uttered a joyous exclamation.</p>
+
+<p>"Most men," he said to himself, "would find this rock impracticable, but
+Fanfar can do it."</p>
+
+<p>He returned to the Marquis.</p>
+
+<p>"Put your arms about my neck," he said, "and trust to me."</p>
+
+<p>The Marquis obeyed, and Fanfar, weighed down again by this burthen,
+climbed the path heretofore <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[Pg 146]</a></span>trodden only by goats. They reached the top
+in safety, there they found Ir&egrave;ne's horse.</p>
+
+<p>"I am going to take you on the saddle with me," he said to the Marquis.
+"I had been to a neighboring village for a physician, and returning I am
+only too thankful that accident brought me in this direction."</p>
+
+<p>He assisted the Marquis to the saddle, and that his hands might be free
+requested the Marquis to hold the lantern.</p>
+
+<p>He did so, and, with instinctive curiosity, flashed the light into the
+face of his preserver. He started back, for he saw before him the living
+image of the old Marquis de Fongereues. He must know the truth at any
+price. He fought against his fatigue, and just as Fanfar was about to
+leap into the saddle, the Marquis pressed the animal with his knee, and
+the animal was off like the wind. Fanfar believed that the horse had ran
+away.</p>
+
+<p>"I hope he will get to the inn in safety," said Fanfar, anxiously. "I
+must get back on foot, it seems!"</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[Pg 147]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XX" id="CHAPTER_XX"></a>CHAPTER XX.</h2>
+
+<h3>THIN PARTITIONS.</h3>
+
+
+<p>Gudel had been carried to his room, the innkeeper moaning over and over
+again, "How could this have happened?"</p>
+
+<p>La Roulante established herself by the sick bed. She was livid with
+fear. The attempt had been a failure, and Bobichel had guessed it!</p>
+
+<p>The persistent questions of Schwann made her very uneasy. Caillette said
+the same thing. She hardly knew what had happened; she only knew that
+her father had been injured.</p>
+
+<p>Bobichel came in.</p>
+
+<p>"The chain has been examined," he said, looking in La Roulante's face.</p>
+
+<p>"What of that!" she cried. "Why do you meddle in what does not concern
+you? Do you mean to say that any one meddled with the chain?"</p>
+
+<p>"That is precisely what I mean!" answered Bobichel, forgetting all
+caution.</p>
+
+<p>La Roulante rushed at him. Caillette threw herself between them, and
+Schwann dragged her back.</p>
+
+<p>La Roulante caught Caillette by the arm and swung her off, then the girl
+picked herself up and ran to Gudel's bed. "Help! father!" she cried,
+"help!"</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[Pg 148]</a></span></p><p>The girl's voice seemed to produce a magical effect. He half rose in his
+bed, and looked about.</p>
+
+<p>Every one was amazed and delighted.</p>
+
+<p>"I knew he would get well!" cried Schwann, as he rushed to Gudel, and
+took his hands.</p>
+
+<p>Bobichel immediately poured out some brandy and gave it to Gudel, whose
+eyes almost at once regained a natural appearance. He saw Caillette
+first, and kissed her tenderly.</p>
+
+<p>"Where is Fanfar?" he said. "Was he hurt?"</p>
+
+<p>"He has gone to Vagney for a doctor for you, dear father."</p>
+
+<p>Iron Jaws laughed aloud.</p>
+
+<p>"I want none of your poisoners here, let me tell you." He caught sight
+of Bobichel, as he spoke. The clown was crying like a baby. "What is the
+matter with you, Bob?" he asked.</p>
+
+<p>"Nothing, master, nothing at all; I am so happy."</p>
+
+<p>"You have been fighting, sir?" said Gudel.</p>
+
+<p>La Roulante bustled forward.</p>
+
+<p>"No, he was impertinent to me," she said, "and I gave him such a shaking
+as he deserved, that was all. But have not you a word for your wife?"</p>
+
+<p>Gudel turned his head away. Bobichel took advantage of this movement to
+shake his fist in the face of the giantess.</p>
+
+<p>"Now let me see if I can stand," said Gudel. "One! two! three!"</p>
+
+<p>He was on his feet.</p>
+
+<p>"I must look at that chain," he said, "when Fanfar <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[Pg 149]</a></span>comes. And where is
+he? It seems to me that he is gone a long time."</p>
+
+<p>"He will be here soon," answered the innkeeper, "unless the inundation
+has increased."</p>
+
+<p>"Is he on foot?" asked Gudel.</p>
+
+<p>"No, the lady lent him her horse," said Bobichel, but he stopped short
+when he saw Caillette turn pale.</p>
+
+<p>Gudel could not see his daughter.</p>
+
+<p>"The young lady is kind-hearted, in spite of all her affectations," he
+said. "And now, good people, I must ask you to leave me. While I am
+waiting for Fanfar, I must see these men that I am to take to-morrow to
+R&eacute;misemont."</p>
+
+<p>"You do not really mean to go to-morrow?"</p>
+
+<p>"I can't say yet. Caillette, my dear, you must go to bed and get some
+rest at once."</p>
+
+<p>Gudel was not in the least hurt; he had received a great shock, that was
+all.</p>
+
+<p>When La Roulante left the room, she was met at the door by Robeccal.</p>
+
+<p>"You see," he said, in a fierce whisper, "that if I had done as I
+wished, and used a knife, the whole thing would have been settled by
+this time."</p>
+
+<p>The two accomplices stood talking in the large room which the men of the
+company shared.</p>
+
+<p>"Who the devil could have supposed," the one said to the other, "that
+Fanfar would have been able to save Gudel. Such a tremendous weight!"</p>
+
+<p>While they were talking, Robeccal and La Roulante heard heavy steps on
+the stairs, and then a knock at Gudel's door.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[Pg 150]</a></span></p><p>Robeccal started. He suddenly remembered the brief colloquy which he had
+had with the unknown&mdash;who was in fact, Cyprien. Might it not be if he
+did what this man desired that in it he would also find his revenge?</p>
+
+<p>"If you hate Gudel," this man had said, "I will give you an opportunity
+of paying off old scores."</p>
+
+<p>Robeccal opened the door and looked out.</p>
+
+<p>Yes, these were the men. Turning to the giantess,</p>
+
+<p>"Listen!" he said, "it is by no means certain that all is lost."</p>
+
+<p>"I don't understand."</p>
+
+<p>"No, but tell me quick. Does he seem to have any secrets?"</p>
+
+<p>"He is always reading the newspapers. He goes himself for his letters
+always, and brings back a quantity."</p>
+
+<p>"Have you never read any of them?"</p>
+
+<p>"I can't read."</p>
+
+<p>"Wait a little. I think we have him now."</p>
+
+<p>The two persons whom we saw in the dining-room now stood at the foot of
+Gudel's bed.</p>
+
+<p>"You have had a narrow escape," said one.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, thanks to Fanfar. His brains, his arms and his muscles saved me."</p>
+
+<p>"It was of him that we came to speak," replied the man who was dressed
+like a horse jockey.</p>
+
+<p>"If it is time to act," said Gudel, "you may rely on him."</p>
+
+<p>"Are you sure? We do not doubt you nor him, but for such work as
+ours&mdash;of which the aim is to <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[Pg 151]</a></span>return to France that liberty which has
+been stifled by the iron hand of Bonaparte and by the Bourbons&mdash;we need
+men who are ready to sacrifice their lives&mdash;to walk straight on, even if
+the scaffold stands at the termination of their road. Is Fanfar such a
+man?"</p>
+
+<p>"I am not much of a speaker," answered Gudel. "My father was a soldier
+of the Republic. I myself was condemned to death in 1815. My father gave
+his life for France, and I lived through accident. It was about that
+time that little Fanfar fell into my hands, and I have always taught him
+to feel the greatest respect for the Revolution. You know, too, that his
+father was murdered by the allies, his mother was burned by the
+Cossacks, and his sister, poor little soul, died of starvation. Do you
+wonder that Fanfar hates the Bourbons? And you ask if you may trust
+him!"</p>
+
+<p>There was a brief silence, and then the man who looked like an old
+soldier spoke.</p>
+
+<p>"Gudel," he said, "we believe you. For ten years, over and over again,
+you have proved to us your devotion and your honesty."</p>
+
+<p>Iron Jaws blushed with pleasure.</p>
+
+<p>"Fanfar will be here presently. You will find him ready to do your
+bidding, and to risk his life in the performance of his duty."</p>
+
+<p>"You know the situation," resumed one of the men; "our enemies are
+already quarreling among themselves, our friends are redoubling their
+efforts. General Foy has stigmatized the purchasers of votes and
+rendered their names infamous. Roger Collard has distinctly asked a
+terrible question&mdash;'where will <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[Pg 152]</a></span>you be in seven years?' The excitement
+is general, and we must send a man of activity to Paris&mdash;a man who is
+young and active, who is willing to make any sacrifice. Can Fanfar be
+this man?"</p>
+
+<p>Gudel contented himself with a simple affirmative.</p>
+
+<p>"Then," said the old soldier, drawing out a pocketbook, "here are papers
+so important that were they to fall into the hands of our adversaries,
+our heads would be in danger and our plans ruined. These papers Fanfar
+must carry to Paris; he will give them to the committee, who in their
+turn will give him orders, which he is to execute without hesitation or
+curiosity. Can you answer for Fanfar?"</p>
+
+<p>"Upon my honor, I can."</p>
+
+<p>The two men continued to talk in a low voice with Gudel, and then they
+went out. Absorbed in thought, they did not notice a man who started
+back when they appeared. Robeccal had heard every syllable.</p>
+
+<p>Cyprien now arrived at the inn. White, trembling and breathless, he
+could scarcely reply to the questions addressed to him. He believed the
+Marquis to be dead, and was finally able to tell his story.</p>
+
+<p>Schwann began to be very anxious. Where was Fanfar? Suddenly a horse was
+heard coming at full speed. Schwann and Caillette rushed to the door.
+They uttered a simultaneous cry of surprise. It was the Marquis.</p>
+
+<p>"And Fanfar? Where is he?"</p>
+
+<p>"He is coming. But I have not a moment to lose. Take me to Gudel's
+chamber."</p>
+
+<p>The tone was too peremptory for Schwann to hesi<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[Pg 153]</a></span>tate; being reassured,
+too, in regard to Fanfar, he was ready to obey without stopping to ask
+the meaning of this extreme haste. Cyprien started forward, but the
+Marquis gave him a look that commanded silence, and as he passed, said
+in a low voice:</p>
+
+<p>"Patience!"</p>
+
+<p>The door closed. Then Cyprien felt a hand on his shoulder and recognized
+the man whose assistance he had endeavored to buy.</p>
+
+<p>"Come out with me," said this man.</p>
+
+<p>"You have learned something?"</p>
+
+<p>"Come out with me, I tell you. Do you think I am fool enough to talk
+under these walls?"</p>
+
+<p>As they stepped out on the square they saw Fanfar, but Fanfar did not
+notice these two shadows. He entered the inn and Caillette threw herself
+into his arms, sobbing with joy.</p>
+
+<p>"I am glad to see you," muttered Schwann, half ashamed of his own
+emotion.</p>
+
+<p>In the silence that followed, the voice of La Roulante was heard singing
+while drowning her sorrows in a bottle of brandy.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[Pg 154]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXI" id="CHAPTER_XXI"></a>CHAPTER XXI.</h2>
+
+<h3>THE GRATITUDE OF A MARQUIS.</h3>
+
+
+<p>After the departure of the two strangers, who, it will be understood,
+now renounced their trip for R&eacute;misemont, Gudel remained very pensive. He
+said to himself that after all he had no right to imperil the future of
+Fanfar and to have made that promise for him. He began to feel very
+uneasy at the long absence of the young man. There was a knock at the
+door.</p>
+
+<p>"Come in," called Iron Jaws.</p>
+
+<p>His surprise was great when he beheld a stranger walk in.</p>
+
+<p>"I am," said this stranger, "the Marquis de Fongereues, and I wish to
+talk with you."</p>
+
+<p>"I am entirely at your service," answered Iron Jaws, bringing forward a
+chair.</p>
+
+<p>"You are probably astonished, Monsieur Gudel," said the Marquis, "at my
+coming here at this time. I know of your accident, and I trust you will
+excuse my indiscretion when you hear my reasons."</p>
+
+<p>Iron Jaws bowed.</p>
+
+<p>"I was, a half hour since, in great danger, and one of your people saved
+my life. You will hear about that later on, I can not now delay to tell
+you."</p>
+
+<p>"But who was this person?"</p>
+
+<p>"His name was Fanfar."</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[Pg 155]</a></span></p><p>"I might have known it!" shouted Gudel, "he is always doing such things.
+But where is he? Is he hurt?"</p>
+
+<p>"Not in the least. He assisted me upon his horse, and the animal was
+uncontrollable; he, however, brought me here in safety, but my preserver
+was obliged to walk back."</p>
+
+<p>"He does not mind that, let me tell you. He will be here in ten
+minutes."</p>
+
+<p>"And the more reason why I should make haste in what I have to say. My
+name tells you the position I hold at court&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"I know very little of such matters."</p>
+
+<p>"Then I will tell you that my name is well known, and that my credit is
+great. I am ready to serve your&mdash;son&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"My son! Alas, sir, I wish Fanfar were my son, but, unfortunately, he is
+no relation of mine."</p>
+
+<p>"But this young man has parents? I can serve them, undoubtedly."</p>
+
+<p>"Fanfar has no parents."</p>
+
+<p>The Marquis bit his lips. With difficulty he curbed his impatience; it
+showed in his voice and his eyes. Gudel suspected nothing.</p>
+
+<p>"A poor orphan, then?" asked the Marquis, in the most honeyed tones,
+"entrusted to your care by a dying father?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, sir, I found Fanfar."</p>
+
+<p>"Pray tell me how and where? I am greatly interested in this young man."</p>
+
+<p>"It is a simple story, sir. My father and I were <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[Pg 156]</a></span>mountebanks, and there
+are worse trades, let me assure you. I have served my time under the
+Republic, and was easy in my mind when there came the trouble of 1812. I
+with the rest was called out again. I had left my wife and my little
+girl at home in a village which the allies would have gobbled up at a
+mouthful, so I asked for a short leave and started off. I tumbled my
+family and their goods into my chariot, where were already packed the
+things I used in my profession. I must not omit to mention that Bobichel
+had kept up the business for me. We travelled along not very rapidly,
+for there was already fighting going on in France, and we were obliged
+to turn off the highway many times. One morning, passing through a
+field, I heard the sound of a bugle. It was the French bugle call. It
+sounded a little queer, but I said to myself, 'Hullo! there are comrades
+near.' I ran round a hillock, and saw something that I shall never
+forget in my life."</p>
+
+<p>"Go on!" cried the Marquis.</p>
+
+<p>Gudel opened his eyes in amazement, but he could not well see the face
+of his companion, and was flattered by the evident curiosity of the
+Marquis.</p>
+
+<p>"I saw soldiers, several of them, lying dead, butchered by the Cossacks.
+I looked around to see who had sounded the bugle. You won't believe me
+when I tell you that it was a boy, certainly not over ten, who had
+discovered this bugle and blown it. I ran to him, but I don't know that
+he even saw me, for he fell back fainting at that very moment."</p>
+
+<p>"And you picked him up?"</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[Pg 157]</a></span></p><p>"Of course I did! And this was Fanfar."</p>
+
+<p>"Did you make any search for his parents?"</p>
+
+<p>"How could I! The Cossacks were at my heels, and there was fire and
+blood everywhere."</p>
+
+<p>"But later on?"</p>
+
+<p>"The child was sick for a long time, entirely out of his head, and when
+he began to recover we feared that his brain was hopelessly affected. It
+was not until eighteen months had elapsed that he was able to tell me he
+came from Leigoutte, among the Vosges mountains."</p>
+
+<p>"Ah!" The Marquis drew his breath with pain. "Go on! go on!" he muttered
+in a hoarse voice.</p>
+
+<p>"He said his father's name was Simon, his mother's name Fran&ccedil;oise, and a
+little sister was called Francinette, but he gave me no family name. I
+did my best and found that the father had been killed in an engagement
+among the mountains, the mother was burned in a fire set by the
+Cossacks, the sister had disappeared; my little Fanfar was all alone. I
+kept him, and did what I could for him. I taught him my profession. This
+is the whole story. On one side good, brave people, on the other cowards
+and assassins."</p>
+
+<p>The Marquis was livid. There was now no doubt. It was Simon's son who
+had been thus thrown in his path. He asked one more question.</p>
+
+<p>"But could you not learn the father's name?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, the village was burned, almost all the inhabitants had perished,
+the Cossacks had done their work well. One of the peasants did tell me
+that he always thought this Master Simon&mdash;he taught a school&mdash;was a
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[Pg 158]</a></span>great lord in disguise, but there are always just such foolish stories,
+and you know in those days great lords were not often killed in
+defending France."</p>
+
+<p>Fanfar entered somewhat abruptly.</p>
+
+<p>"This is the lad, sir," said Gudel, drawing him to his side. "He is
+good, he is honest, he is strong!"</p>
+
+<p>"I wish to thank you, young man," said the Marquis, turning to Fanfar,
+"for saving my life."</p>
+
+<p>Fanfar answered courteously.</p>
+
+<p>"You were in peril. I only did my duty."</p>
+
+<p>"Do not forget that if I can ever serve you, you are to apply to me
+without hesitation," said the Marquis, and bowing he left the room.</p>
+
+<p>Fanfar and Gudel were now alone.</p>
+
+<p>Cyprien waited for his master, who seized him by the arm and dragged him
+into the room where they had talked together in the morning.</p>
+
+<p>"Cyprien," he whispered, fiercely, "hell has come to our aid; this young
+man who saved my life, this Fanfar&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Well?"</p>
+
+<p>"Is the son of Simon Foug&egrave;re&mdash;the son of my brother!"</p>
+
+<p>My readers will please remember that only Fran&ccedil;oise knew the secret of
+the birth of little Jacques, who was supposed to be the son of Simon.
+And of Fran&ccedil;oise, the fire had destroyed every trace.</p>
+
+<p>"At last!" exclaimed Cyprien.</p>
+
+<p>"Hush! I have reflected. This young man must die, but his identity must
+be perfectly clear. We <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[Pg 159]</a></span>require Gudel's testimony, and then, when all
+this is plain, we can control Labarre."</p>
+
+<p>Cyprien assented to the wisdom of the plan, but he wished a little
+delay. He saw evidences of great impatience on the part of the Marquis.</p>
+
+<p>"I am not so simple, sir, as you think. This Gudel is one of the leaders
+of the conspiracy of which I have told you, and Fanfar is the man on
+whom these bandits rely to arouse the populace in Paris."</p>
+
+<p>Then in a low voice he told the Marquis how Iron Jaws had then in his
+possession papers which would prove the whole plot, and give the names
+of the conspirators.</p>
+
+<p>"Let him fall into the hands of the law," concluded Cyprien, "and the
+end is certain. We can contrive to give to the plot enormous
+proportions, and he will be condemned."</p>
+
+<p>The Marquis shrugged his shoulders.</p>
+
+<p>"No, that won't do. We can't rely on these judges. One never knows what
+whims they may take into their heads."</p>
+
+<p>"But what do you propose?"</p>
+
+<p>Fongereues hesitated.</p>
+
+<p>"Who is this man," he asked, "who has revealed to you the conversation
+of Gudel and his accomplices?"</p>
+
+<p>"He is a scoundrel named Robeccal, who belongs to their troupe."</p>
+
+<p>The Marquis tore a leaf from his note book, and wrote a few words in
+haste.</p>
+
+<p>"Take this man with you, and go to R&eacute;misemont," he said. "Go to the
+Comte de Vernac, who is a rabid <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[Pg 160]</a></span>monarchist. He has vast influence, and
+this very night the police will be here, these two men will be made
+prisoners, and I have no doubt they will resist. Then I will attend to
+the rest; a criminal who resists may be silenced."</p>
+
+<p>Cyprien smiled meaningly.</p>
+
+<p>"Now go, at once, there is no time to be lost. Fanfar must be killed;
+Gudel must be taken alive. Gudel will tell his story in the court-room.
+The Comte de Vernac can never say that the information on which he acted
+came from me, and without any trouble we shall get rid of the heir of
+Simon Foug&egrave;re. Before these same judges, moreover, Labarre shall deliver
+the will, and tell the secret. Let no one see you and this Robeccal go
+away together."</p>
+
+<p>"Rely on me."</p>
+
+<p>Before many minutes, Robeccal and Cyprien started off together.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[Pg 161]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXII" id="CHAPTER_XXII"></a>CHAPTER XXII.</h2>
+
+<h3>POOR BOBICHEL.</h3>
+
+
+<p>More than two hours had elapsed since the departure of the two spies.
+The little town of Saint Am&eacute; was plunged in profound obscurity. The wind
+raged down the narrow street, and the roar and rush of the torrent was
+heard in the distance.</p>
+
+<p>One of the rooms in the inn presented a singular aspect. Caillette lay
+exhausted on her bed, but she was not asleep; she lay with her eyes wide
+open thinking of Fanfar. The poor little creature's heart was very sore,
+but she was too innocent to know why. She felt a vague terror
+complicated by a certain bitterness. She felt without understanding.</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly, she heard a strange noise. She looked around the room, dimly
+lighted by a night-lamp. On the floor lay the giantess, who had drank
+too much brandy. Robeccal had said a few words to her before he went
+away with the lacquey. She did not seem to understand him, but fell into
+a doze while he was talking. When she awoke, though by no means herself,
+she determined to rise from her bed. She did so, and staggered half
+across the room, then fell on the floor. Half laughing she looked about,
+and met the surprised, half frightened eyes of Caillette. This was not
+the first time that the young girl had surprised her <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[Pg 162]</a></span>in this degraded
+condition but this time she was more than ever shocked, and shuddered
+perceptibly.</p>
+
+<p>All at once, the giantess seemed to recognize in Caillette an enemy. She
+uttered a sound that was almost a growl, and, unable to stand, crawled
+across the room to the girl's bed.</p>
+
+<p>Caillette recoiled until she could go no further. She wanted to scream,
+but her tongue clove to the roof of her mouth.</p>
+
+<p>La Roulante saw her terror, and laughed. Determined to torture the
+child, she began to talk.</p>
+
+<p>"You want your Fanfar, don't you? Let me tell you that he cares not a
+sou whether you live or die."</p>
+
+<p>She stopped talking for a few minutes, and seemed to be reflecting.</p>
+
+<p>"No, I won't kill you&mdash;it is not worth while. What was it that my little
+Bob said to me? Where has he gone, I should like to know!"</p>
+
+<p>She repeated these words over and over again. Presently she vaguely
+recalled what Robeccal had last said to her.</p>
+
+<p>"'He will not be long,' he said, 'he was going&mdash;' Where was he going?
+Oh! for the police&mdash;Gudel and Fanfar had better look out!"</p>
+
+<p>She now crawled away from the bed until she found the brandy bottle,
+which she drained, all the time saying over and over confused words
+about the police and papers which would cost two persons their lives.</p>
+
+<p>Although Caillette did not understand, she saw that there was danger,
+pressing and immediate, for both Gudel and Fanfar. She waited until La
+Roulante's <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[Pg 163]</a></span>heavy breathing showed that she was asleep, and then the
+young girl cautiously crept from her bed and to the door, which,
+fortunately, was not locked. She hurried to her father's room. Some one
+lay before the door. She stooped and recognized the faithful clown, who
+had thus mounted guard.</p>
+
+<p>"Bobichel! I must speak to my father," she whispered.</p>
+
+<p>"What! is it you, little Caillette? Is there trouble?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes&mdash;and not one moment to lose!"</p>
+
+<p>Bobichel was wide awake and on his feet. He opened the door for
+Caillette. Her father was on the bed asleep. Fanfar was asleep, too,
+sitting in his chair.</p>
+
+<p>Fanfar started up. "Caillette!" he exclaimed.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes&mdash;wake my father at once!"</p>
+
+<p>"He is so weary, and needs rest."</p>
+
+<p>"It is a question of your liberty&mdash;his liberty and your lives!"</p>
+
+<p>Gudel now opened his eyes.</p>
+
+<p>"What is the matter, child?" he asked.</p>
+
+<p>"The police are coming to arrest you!"</p>
+
+<p>"What nonsense!"</p>
+
+<p>Caillette instantly repeated the disconnected words uttered by La
+Roulante.</p>
+
+<p>"She can't know anything!" said Gudel, uneasily. "Bobichel!" he called.</p>
+
+<p>"I am here, master!" answered the clown.</p>
+
+<p>"Where is Robeccal?"</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know&mdash;he went away three hours ago."</p>
+
+<p>"Where was he going?"</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[Pg 164]</a></span></p><p>"I don't know&mdash;I was too sleepy to ask."</p>
+
+<p>Gudel questioned Caillette again. "Had La Roulante distinctly spoken of
+papers?"</p>
+
+<p>It was only too clear that there had been spies in their camp.</p>
+
+<p>"Fanfar," said Gudel, "when one accepts a mission like ours his life no
+longer belongs to himself. We must fly, and at once!"</p>
+
+<p>"But how?"</p>
+
+<p>"We will take the horses that belong to the chariot."</p>
+
+<p>"And do you forget me, father?" asked Caillette.</p>
+
+<p>"No&mdash;I confide you to Bobichel."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh! Fanfar, do not leave me!" sobbed the young girl.</p>
+
+<p>"Dear child, there are great dangers to run!"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, but with you I should not be afraid."</p>
+
+<p>"And master&mdash;am I to be left behind?" asked the clown.</p>
+
+<p>"Very well, we four will go, then," answered Gudel. "But you forget that
+we have not horses enough," he added.</p>
+
+<p>"But I have legs," interposed Bobichel, "and I can overtake you wherever
+you go. You can take Caillette on behind."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, that would do very well, would it not, Fanfar?" asked the girl,
+eagerly.</p>
+
+<p>"Where shall we go?" said Fanfar to Gudel.</p>
+
+<p>"We had best take the road to Paris. If we are pursued, we shall find a
+hiding-place there as well as anywhere else."</p>
+
+<p>"Shall we wake Schwann?" asked the clown.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[Pg 165]</a></span></p><p>"No, no&mdash;what is the use? I do not wish him to be compromised, either,
+and when they question him they will find that he really knows nothing.
+You, Bobichel, bring out the horses&mdash;the saddles are in the wagon. Go,
+and make haste!"</p>
+
+<p>Gudel here stopped short.</p>
+
+<p>"My wife!" he said.</p>
+
+<p>"But, master, it is she who has betrayed you!" cried Bobichel.</p>
+
+<p>"It is she who has saved us!" Gudel replied.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, but without meaning to do so."</p>
+
+<p>"I must see her, at all events."</p>
+
+<p>And Gudel hurried to her room, and beheld her lying in a drunken stupor
+on the floor. He shook his head sadly.</p>
+
+<p>"After all, she has nothing to fear, and we may as well part in this way
+as in any other&mdash;the end was coming!"</p>
+
+<p>And he returned to his daughter and his friends, who in the meantime had
+been making a rope of the sheets and blankets on the bed. With their aid
+Bobichel dropped from the window.</p>
+
+<p>"Now it is my turn!" said Caillette, and, light as a bird, she seized
+the rope.</p>
+
+<p>"Take care, child! Take care!" cried Fanfar.</p>
+
+<p>"Would it pain you," she asked quickly, "if I came to grief?"</p>
+
+<p>"Hush! child."</p>
+
+<p>Little Caillette was very gay, and it was with a pretty, childish laugh
+that she swung herself to the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[Pg 166]</a></span>ground, where in two minutes her father
+and Fanfar also stood.</p>
+
+<p>The two horses, all saddled, stood ready.</p>
+
+<p>"You have the papers, Fanfar?" asked Gudel, in a whisper.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes&mdash;I have them."</p>
+
+<p>"Then let us start at once."</p>
+
+<p>Caillette, without the smallest hesitation, sprang on Fanfar's horse.</p>
+
+<p>"And you, Bobichel?"</p>
+
+<p>"Don't be troubled about me!"</p>
+
+<p>"Hark!" cried Fanfar.</p>
+
+<p>They listened, and heard distinctly the tread of horses in the distance.</p>
+
+<p>"The police!" said Bobichel.</p>
+
+<p>"They have lost no time, at all events!" And Gudel laughed. "But we have
+the advantage, and I know a cross-road which will cut off a good bit."</p>
+
+<p>The two horses stepped gingerly out of Schwann's premises, and when once
+on the high road dashed madly forward. The inn was wrapped in silence
+and almost in darkness&mdash;only one room was lighted, the one where the
+Marquis sat, impatient and anxious. He, too, heard the horses galloping.
+His plan had succeeded, then. In a few minutes the house would be
+surrounded.</p>
+
+<p>A group of horsemen suddenly appeared on the Square. Robeccal and
+Cyprien were with them.</p>
+
+<p>When Robeccal went away, he had taken the precaution to leave a window
+open on the lower floor, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[Pg 167]</a></span>which Schwann had not discovered in making his
+rounds for the night.</p>
+
+<p>Robeccal entered through this window and opened the door.</p>
+
+<p>Schwann was aroused by footsteps below, and rushed down the stairs.
+Seeing the police in uniform, he uttered an exclamation.</p>
+
+<p>"The police in my house!" he cried.</p>
+
+<p>"I ask your pardon, sir," answered the Brigadier of police, "but there
+was urgent need. In the name of the king!"</p>
+
+<p>Schwann repeated the words with a sigh.</p>
+
+<p>"You have conspirators lodging here&mdash;enemies of the monarchy!"</p>
+
+<p>"You are greatly mistaken, Brigadier&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Not so. Their names are Gudel and Fanfar."</p>
+
+<p>Schwann laughed. "That is ridiculous!" he said.</p>
+
+<p>"That may be, but I have orders to arrest these men! Where are they?"</p>
+
+<p>"I will show you!" said Robeccal, quickly. The door of the chamber was
+locked.</p>
+
+<p>"Break it in!" cried Robeccal.</p>
+
+<p>"Wait! Law before all else." And standing in a military attitude, the
+Brigadier shouted: "In the name of the king, open!"</p>
+
+<p>As may be supposed, there was no reply. Then, with his shoulder, the
+Brigadier burst it open.</p>
+
+<p>"Gone!" roared Robeccal, and looking round he quickly espied the
+improvised rope at the window, and flew down the stairs.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[Pg 168]</a></span></p><p>Cyprien drew the Brigadier aside. "Spare no exertion. The fate of France
+depends on you, now!" he said.</p>
+
+<p>The Brigadier became immensely important on hearing these words. He took
+a lantern and hunted for traces of the fugitives.</p>
+
+<p>"This way!" cried Robeccal, "they have made their escape toward the
+forest."</p>
+
+<p>"I know every inch of the forest," answered the Brigadier, waving his
+sword, as if he were about to attack an enemy.</p>
+
+<p>Cyprien stood biting his lips. Could it be that Fanfar was to escape him
+now? The police rode off at a rapid pace, and Cyprien felt that they
+must overtake the fugitives.</p>
+
+<p>About two miles from the village the road wound round a hill, on one
+side of which was a deep precipice. Day was breaking, and Robeccal, who
+of course had joined in the pursuit, rose in his stirrups in hopes to
+see some sign of the men they were pursuing.</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly one of the horses fell, then the one behind meeting with the
+same obstacle, fell also, until five out of the seven were on the
+ground.</p>
+
+<p>"It is a rope!" cried the Brigadier, "a rope stretched across the
+road&mdash;the rascals!"</p>
+
+<p>The men who were in their saddles leaped to the ground and endeavored to
+assist their comrades, one of whom had a leg broken.</p>
+
+<p>Robeccal stamped with rage.</p>
+
+<p>"Halloo!" cried a voice, "you had best meddle with <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[Pg 169]</a></span>honest people
+again!" And Bobichel, standing on the side of the road, danced with
+glee.</p>
+
+<p>"You shall pay for that!" shouted Robeccal, and snatching a pistol from
+the belt of one of the police, he fired at Bobichel.</p>
+
+<p>The clown flung out his arms. "They are saved, at all events!" he
+shouted, as he disappeared, falling into the abyss at his feet.</p>
+
+<p>Fanfar and Gudel were far away. Poor Bobichel!</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[Pg 170]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXIII" id="CHAPTER_XXIII"></a>CHAPTER XXIII.</h2>
+
+<h3>FRANCE&mdash;1824.</h3>
+
+
+<p>The 29th of February, 1824, was a Sunday, and a f&ecirc;te day. At that time
+the Carnival was in full blast, and the streets were crowded with
+curious spectators. A carriage drew up before a fashionable restaurant
+in the Palais Royal. The carriage was driven by a coachman wearing a
+powdered wig, and the horses were magnificent. Three young men with
+cigars in their mouths descended from the carriage, and took the path
+that led to the garden.</p>
+
+<p>They were wrapped in Venetian cloaks and each wore on his shoulder knots
+of ribbon, different in hue, and each concealed his face under a white
+satin mask, to which mask the police made no objection, as it was a sign
+of high birth and nobility.</p>
+
+<p>These young men laughed when they found they were to pass through a
+double row of spectators, to whose jokes they replied in kind.</p>
+
+<p>Lights were beginning to twinkle among the trees when they established
+themselves at a table in the caf&eacute;.</p>
+
+<p>"I am thankful to say," exclaimed one of the young men, "that the
+Carnival is nearly over."</p>
+
+<p>"Fernando is right," said one of the two others. <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[Pg 171]</a></span>"We have been out now
+for two hours, and we have not had the smallest adventure."</p>
+
+<p>"Pshaw!" answered the third youth, who was called Arthur by his friends,
+"we have a long evening before us, and it would be odd if we did not
+find some excitement and could not create a little scandal!"</p>
+
+<p>Of these three young men one was named Arthur de Montferrand; his father
+had made himself a name in the Chamber of Peers by defending the
+assassins of Marshal Brune; the other, Gaston de Ferrette, was a great
+duelist, although not more than twenty-four, and belonged to the best
+blood in France.</p>
+
+<p>The third was less known in Paris. He was an Italian who was traveling
+in France. His name was Fernando de Vellebri. He came with letters from
+princes and ambassadors, which opened to him the first h&ocirc;tels in the
+Faubourg. This was the time when the word "dandy" began to be used, and
+these three aspired to the title.</p>
+
+<p>"Where is Frederic?" said one. "Would he fail us now?"</p>
+
+<p>"Of course not. Besides, he wrote to me to say that he was to go with
+Mademoiselle de Salves to witness some ceremony at Notre Dame!"</p>
+
+<p>"Poor Frederic!"</p>
+
+<p>"He is not so much to be pitied, if you please, for Mademoiselle de
+Salves is a most charming person."</p>
+
+<p>"But does he love her? That is the question."</p>
+
+<p>"It seems to me that you take a great deal of interest in my private
+affairs, gentlemen!" said a clear voice behind them.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[Pg 172]</a></span></p><p>"Frederic! Frederic, at last!"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, Frederic, who has been listening to you for some minutes, and who
+thinks you a little venturesome in your remarks."</p>
+
+<p>He whom these young men greeted as Frederic wore no mask. His costume
+was what in 1824 was regarded as the height of elegance. His friends
+looked at him with admiration and envy, audibly regretting that they had
+appeared in mask and costume.</p>
+
+<p>"Then go and take them off," said Frederic. "I will wait for you here,
+or, better still, you may stop for me an hour later at the <i>Mille
+Colonnes</i>."</p>
+
+<p>Frederic was left alone. He was a youth of about twenty, but looked
+older. Heavy brows shaded deep-set eyes, his shoulders were square, with
+a slight deformity of the spine. His name was Frederic de Talizac.</p>
+
+<p>Ten years had elapsed since the son of Magdalena scorned and insulted
+France. We shall soon discover if the man fulfilled the promise of his
+childhood.</p>
+
+<p>The Vicomte left the rotunda, and putting up his eyeglasses, began to
+examine the crowd in the garden.</p>
+
+<p>The Palais Royal was at that time the central point of Paris, and served
+as a rendezvous for everybody. Each caf&eacute; had its special customers. The
+Bonapartists went to one, foreigners to another&mdash;the <i>Mille
+Colonnes</i>&mdash;speculators to the <i>Caf&eacute; de Fois</i>, and so on. The <i>Caf&eacute; de
+Valois</i> was frequented by military men, the survivors of the great
+Revolution, and it was also believed that it was a resort of the
+Republicans. Wonder was frequently expressed that the police had <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[Pg 173]</a></span>not
+suppressed this scandal. It was toward this caf&eacute; that the Vicomte now
+took his way. Hardly had he passed the gallery than he was attracted by
+a group of young men earnestly conversing together. Frederic watched
+them a moment, and then went up to them. He touched one of the men on
+his shoulder, saying:</p>
+
+<p>"Will you grant me a few minutes' conversation, sir?"</p>
+
+<p>The young man to whom this question was addressed was about twenty-five.
+His regular features indicated great determination. He looked at Talizac
+for a moment, and then replied, very coldly:</p>
+
+<p>"I am at your service, sir."</p>
+
+<p>The two men then walked into an almost deserted street.</p>
+
+<p>"I first wish to know your name," said the Vicomte. "I am Frederic de
+Talizac."</p>
+
+<p>"As I am well aware."</p>
+
+<p>"And I wish to know your name that I may know also, if I am to speak to
+you as to a gentleman, or strike you as I would a lacquey."</p>
+
+<p>The young man turned very pale, but with a calmness that was absolutely
+terrifying under the circumstances, he replied:</p>
+
+<p>"There can be nothing in common between us two."</p>
+
+<p>"I am to marry Mademoiselle de Salves in a month," said Talizac, between
+his close shut teeth. "Yesterday, at noon, you had the impertinence,
+when riding past her mother's h&ocirc;tel, to throw a bouquet over the garden
+wall."</p>
+
+<p>"Well?"</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[Pg 174]</a></span></p><p>"You probably have excellent reasons for concealing your name, but I
+give you fair warning that if you are again guilty of similar conduct,
+that your chastisement will be swift and sure!"</p>
+
+<p>The Vicomte stopped short, for the young man grasped him by the wrist
+with such strength that Frederic caught his breath in pain.</p>
+
+<p>The stranger spoke in a low, calm voice.</p>
+
+<p>"You have insulted me&mdash;wait!"</p>
+
+<p>He turned and called to his friends.</p>
+
+<p>"Gentlemen," he said, "this man has insulted me. Shall I fight him? He
+is the Vicomte de Talizac."</p>
+
+<p>One of the friends, who wore the ribbon of the Legion of Honor, replied:</p>
+
+<p>"You cannot fight with a Talizac!"</p>
+
+<p>The Vicomte uttered a cry of rage, but the other still held him firmly.</p>
+
+<p>"You see," he said, "we do not fight with people whom we do not respect.
+If you do not understand me, apply to your father for an explanation&mdash;he
+will give it to you. The day may come when you may have an opportunity
+of killing me&mdash;if you can. Now go&mdash;return to your shameful pleasures!"</p>
+
+<p>With features convulsed with rage the Vicomte, unable to speak, drew
+from his pocket a handful of cards, and flung them into the face of the
+unknown, who started forward, but one of his friends laid a restraining
+hand on his arm.</p>
+
+<p>"You do not belong to yourself!" he said, warningly.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[Pg 175]</a></span></p><p>Talizac disappeared. As he was hurrying on, blind with anger, a voice
+cried:</p>
+
+<p>"Is this the way you keep your appointments?"</p>
+
+<p>It was the Italian, Fernando de Vellebri. He added, with a wink:</p>
+
+<p>"You ought to have killed that fellow. You know him?"</p>
+
+<p>"Very little."</p>
+
+<p>"He was concerned in that affair at Tivoli. You will tell me about it."</p>
+
+<p>The tone which the Italian employed was not pleasing to Frederic, who,
+glad to have found a new adversary, answered quickly:</p>
+
+<p>"I suppose you mean that I can tell you, if I choose. You seem to give
+me orders."</p>
+
+<p>"Suppose we sit down." And the Italian pointed to two chairs which were
+unoccupied. He seated himself at once.</p>
+
+<p>"My dear Vicomte," he said, serenely, "it seems to me that, situated as
+we are, there should be no misunderstanding or quarrel between us."</p>
+
+<p>"How do you mean?"</p>
+
+<p>"I mean what you seem to have forgotten, that yesterday, in a moment of
+absent-mindedness, you signed a certain paper with a name that was not
+your own."</p>
+
+<p>The Vicomte turned very pale.</p>
+
+<p>"How did you know this?" he stammered.</p>
+
+<p>The Italian took out an elegant little pocketbook.</p>
+
+<p>"Here it is," he said, opening a paper bearing the royal mark.</p>
+
+<p>"But how did it come into your hands?"</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[Pg 176]</a></span></p><p>"In a very simple way&mdash;I bought it."</p>
+
+<p>"You&mdash;and for what reason?"</p>
+
+<p>"Can you not suppose that my only motive was to render you a service?"</p>
+
+<p>The Vicomte shrugged his shoulders.</p>
+
+<p>"You are right," answered Fernando, in reply to this mute protest. "I
+have another reason. I do not wish the Vicomte de Talizac to come to
+grief because my fortune is intimately connected with his&mdash;because his
+father, the Marquis de Fongereues, has rendered and will render great
+services to a cause that is mine. You must promise me to be guilty of no
+more imprudences like this."</p>
+
+<p>"Do you mean to give me that paper?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, it is not altogether mine; those who retain an interest in it can
+alone surrender it to you."</p>
+
+<p>"And who are those persons?"</p>
+
+<p>"Friends, defenders of the Monarchy and of Religion. But we will say no
+more on this trifle now. I merely wished to prove to you that I had a
+right to your confidence. Resume your story, and tell me why you hate
+this man whom you just now provoked."</p>
+
+<p>This trifle, as the Italian called it, could place the Vicomte at the
+criminals' bar, as both men well knew, but Frederic deemed it advisable
+not to insist. He suspected the truth, and had long since decided that
+the Italian belonged to the mysterious association. It was enough for
+him that the danger was momentarily averted.</p>
+
+<p>"Very well," said Talizac, "you were speaking of Tivoli. The crowd was
+very great at the f&ecirc;te, the fire<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[Pg 177]</a></span>works were going on, at that moment the
+king's arms were exhibited. Suddenly there was a grand excitement; part
+of the scaffolding gave way. Mademoiselle de Salves in her fright
+dropped my arm and began to run. I saw a great timber falling and
+believed she was lost. I could not reach her. A man emerged from the
+crowd, and with incredible strength seized this timber and eased it to
+the ground. She fainted, and when the crowd permitted me to reach her
+side, this young man was holding her in his arms. She opened her eyes,
+and I am certain that this man was no stranger to her. When, however, we
+all gathered about her, the unknown bowed respectfully and vanished. I
+noticed, however, that this romantic cavalier carried away with him a
+ribbon from the dress of the young lady&mdash;only a ribbon. I told Ir&egrave;ne of
+this impertinence; she did not even condescend to answer me."</p>
+
+<p>"But the Paladin did not long content himself with this silent homage, I
+presume?"</p>
+
+<p>"Women are idiots, you know, and this man now passes Ir&egrave;ne's windows
+daily, and even throws flowers over the garden wall; and this woman, who
+is to be my wife, stands behind the curtain and watches for his coming.
+This my own eyes have seen, and I have come to the conclusion that it
+has gone on long enough&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Ah! and you wish to get rid of this gallant. The matter ought to be
+easy enough."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, one would think so. I have kept my valet <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[Pg 178]</a></span>on the watch, and
+discovered that he came every day to the <i>Caf&eacute; de Valois</i> at this
+hour&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"My dear Talizac, I can put an end to all your difficulties. If
+Mademoiselle de Salves has built up a pretty romance, I can banish her
+dreams by telling her the name of her lover. Your rival, my dear fellow,
+is or was rather, a mountebank, and his name is Fanfar."</p>
+
+<p>The Vicomte laughed long and loud.</p>
+
+<p>"Upon my word!" he exclaimed, as soon as he could speak, "I should have
+made a fool of myself, had I fought a duel with the fellow! But do the
+men who are with him know who he is?"</p>
+
+<p>"Certainly. They know perfectly well. And yet shake hands with him! They
+call him their friend."</p>
+
+<p>The Italian could stand no more of this. He rose from his chair. "Come,"
+he said, "this is the Carnival, let us end the day merrily."</p>
+
+<p>"I should be only too glad to do so," was the Vicomte's reply, "anything
+to make me forget the disagreeable scene with that man!"</p>
+
+<p>The Vicomte called the contumely heaped on his father's name and his
+own, "a disagreeable scene."</p>
+
+<p>The two young men sauntered across the garden. Just as they reached the
+fountain, Frederic stopped.</p>
+
+<p>"What is it?" asked the Italian.</p>
+
+<p>A young girl was singing to a guitar. A curious crowd had gathered about
+her. She was a pretty creature; her brown curls were covered by a
+handkerchief of white wool, her face was perfect in shape and in
+coloring, her eyes were dark&mdash;gay, but at the same time innocent.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[Pg 179]</a></span></p><p>She accompanied herself on a guitar as she sang, and her voice was so
+delicious that the crowd clamored for more. The girl bowed her thanks,
+and extended the back of her guitar for money. She colored deeply as she
+did so. When she reached Frederic, he said, in a whisper, as he laid a
+gold piece on the instrument, "You are alone to-day."</p>
+
+<p>She started, looked up quickly, and passed on.</p>
+
+<p>"The 'Marquise' is in a lofty mood," said the Italian, stooping as he
+spoke, and picking the gold piece from the ground. "Take it, Vicomte, it
+is yours, since she would have none of it."</p>
+
+<p>Frederic uttered a sullen oath.</p>
+
+<p>"And this has been going on for two months!" Fernando laughed, as he
+stated this as a fact, "and every day the Marquise&mdash;by the way, why is
+she called by that name!&mdash;repels the homage of the Vicomte!"</p>
+
+<p>"Do you spend all your time watching me, Fernando? Take care, patience
+has its limits!"</p>
+
+<p>"I am glad to hear it. You bear too much from this girl!"</p>
+
+<p>Frederic caught his arm. "Listen to me, Fernando, my brain reels with
+mad projects. Help me to avenge myself on Fanfar&mdash;help me to carry off
+this girl, and I belong to you, body and soul!"</p>
+
+<p>"Well said!" answered the Italian, "as the bargain is concluded, suppose
+we go to dinner?"</p>
+
+<p>"But this girl?"</p>
+
+<p>"We will talk of her to-night, and I am quite sure you will have no
+reason to complain of me!"</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[Pg 180]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXIV" id="CHAPTER_XXIV"></a>CHAPTER XXIV.</h2>
+
+<h3>THE MARQUISE.</h3>
+
+
+<p>Forty-eight hours have elapsed since the scenes we have described in the
+last chapter, and the day is Mardi Gras. Opposite the Caf&eacute; Turc, which
+in 1824 had a European reputation, stood a house of squalid appearance,
+inhabited, because of the low rent at which rooms could be obtained, by
+a number of modest tradespeople, who for the greater part of the year
+carried on the numerous booths on the Square.</p>
+
+<p>Before describing this picturesque corner of old Paris, unknown to the
+present generation, we will enter this house to which we have alluded,
+and which bore the number 42 of the Boulevard du Temple. In a room on
+the fifth floor, the girl who was called the Marquise was finishing her
+toilette before the mirror. A poor little room enough, with its faded
+wall paper, its narrow bed pushed into the corner, its two chairs and
+pine table. The window closed but imperfectly, and the wind blew out the
+curtain like a sail. Colored prints were fastened against the wall, and
+everything was exquisitely clean. A white napkin was spread upon the
+table, and the bed had snowy curtains. The mirror at this moment was
+worth more than any from Venice, for it reflected a charming Greuze-like
+face.</p>
+
+<p>The singer was twisting up her rebellious curls, and <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[Pg 181]</a></span>endeavoring to
+bring her hair into some kind of order. Her complexion was exquisite,
+her big dark eyes were full of sunshine, and her lips were beautiful and
+fresh. She fastened on her muslin cap, and then the graceful hands
+fluttered about her dress arranging that also.</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly a deep sigh, apparently from the next room, reached her ear.
+She ran to the communicating door, and, opening it cautiously, looked
+in.</p>
+
+<p>"Poor woman!" she said to herself, "she is awake. I wonder if she
+suffers still."</p>
+
+<p>Then a voice called, "Cinette! little Cinette!"</p>
+
+<p>"How strange!" said the girl, "when I hear her speak that name, it seems
+to me the voice is familiar."</p>
+
+<p>"Come, Cinette!"</p>
+
+<p>This time the girl entered the room. She beheld a woman vainly seeking
+to raise herself in her bed.</p>
+
+<p>Her face was hideously scarred and seared, while the bloodshot eyes
+could not endure the light. It was clear that the poor creature had been
+the victim of a horrible accident.</p>
+
+<p>"I am thirsty," she faintly articulated.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, mamma," answered the girl who was called Cinette.</p>
+
+<p>And the woman smiled. She was mad in addition to her helplessness. No
+one knew who she was, nor whence she came.</p>
+
+<p>The reader has recognized in the girl who ministered to her needs,
+little Cinette, the child of Simon Foug&egrave;re and Fran&ccedil;oise. She had run
+distractedly through those subterranean vaults when she lost Jacques,
+and finally escaped from the labyrinth to <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[Pg 182]</a></span>fall into the hands of those
+people whom Hugo has immortalized.</p>
+
+<p>These people&mdash;a husband, wife and children&mdash;were pillaging the dead on a
+battle-field, but when Cinette appeared they smiled upon her.</p>
+
+<p>The little girl could give no explanation as to why she was thus alone
+and deserted. To all questions she could only reply by the words "papa
+Simon," and "mamma Fran&ccedil;oise." Of course this was too indefinite for
+these people to act upon; besides, at that time they had much to do&mdash;the
+invasion promised them much spoil. They took Cinette away, and after the
+peace they continued to keep her. They had amassed quite a little
+property, and bought a farm in Blaisois. Cinette was happy in these
+days, for she was too young to remember her woes.</p>
+
+<p>In the village there was an old soldier whose violin and songs had often
+enlivened the bivouac. He soon discovered that Cinette, for she still
+went by that name, possessed a wonderful voice. He took it into his head
+to start a musical school; he had three pupils, only two of which paid a
+sou; on the third, Cinette, he built many projects. He was making
+arrangements to transport his pupil to a wider stage, when an epidemic
+broke out in the village, and the girl was left alone in the world.</p>
+
+<p>The "Good Sisters" offered her a home in the convent, but she had always
+been accustomed to the open air, to flowers that nodded a welcome to her
+as she passed, and to sunshine, and was afraid of the cloister, of its
+dimness, and of watchful eyes.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[Pg 183]</a></span></p><p>She finally took her departure, and begged her way to Paris. Some one
+gave her an old guitar that had been left behind by some wanderer, which
+the child had gazed at with longing eyes. She escaped the many snares
+that were laid for her, and finally found shelter in a house where only
+the very poor lived, but they were all honest, industrious people. She
+obtained the necessary permission to sing on the street, and then had
+another idea. In the part of the city where she lived there was a great
+deal of poverty, and she undertook the care of a poor woman, she was so
+confident in her ability to make money.</p>
+
+<p>"But the person you propose to take care of has been dreadfully
+disfigured, and is unpleasant to look upon," said one of the neighbors.</p>
+
+<p>The child asked to be told all that was known of the unfortunate
+creature.</p>
+
+<p>She had been found among the mountains long before, and the people who
+had found her were dead, but she was still taken care of by these kind,
+good creatures who, however, found the burthen a heavy one.</p>
+
+<p>Francine went to see this poor creature. There was a long silence, the
+girl seemed to hesitate, then, suddenly, she stooped and kissed her.</p>
+
+<p>"Will you go with me, mamma?" she said.</p>
+
+<p>Why did she use the word mamma? She could not have told herself, and yet
+this woman was really her mother. Yes, this unfortunate, this mad woman
+was Fran&ccedil;oise, the wife of Simon. After the agony of that fearful night,
+she lost her memory and her reason. <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[Pg 184]</a></span>She did not know how she had
+escaped, and yet she was here and restored to her child. Fate had
+brought the two together. Mother and daughter were alike victims of the
+Talizacs.</p>
+
+<p>Francine took this woman, whom she had volunteered to support, and
+installed her next her own room. Day and night she watched over her with
+a solicitude that was absolutely filial.</p>
+
+<p>The elder woman was happy only when Cinette was with her, and when the
+girl was away, she repeated the name over and over.</p>
+
+<p>Francine worked hard. She now had her regular audiences, and could be
+heard at certain places at certain hours. Her programmes were regularly
+made out. The name that had been given her of the Marquise was not given
+unkindly. She was neither vain nor proud, but she wore her simple woolen
+gown in such a dainty fashion, and put the little kerchief on her head
+in such a way, that the people called her the Marquise. But to return to
+our tale.</p>
+
+<p>"I am going out, mamma," said Francine, "and you will be very good while
+I am away, will you not?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, Cinette&mdash;yes."</p>
+
+<p>"You will not try to get up?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, Cinette."</p>
+
+<p>"And to-morrow you shall have a pretty new cap&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"With ribbons?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, with ribbons."</p>
+
+<p>The woman laughed with delight, but presently she uttered a cry of
+distress.</p>
+
+<p>"The box! the box!&mdash;where is the box?"</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[Pg 185]</a></span></p><p>Francine had heard this same exclamation over and over again, and
+attached no significance to it, but to humor the invalid, she answered:</p>
+
+<p>"Oh! you shall have the box."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, I must have it. Everything is in it&mdash;fortune, money, titles. Where
+have I put it?"</p>
+
+<p>Her voice dropped so low that Francine could hardly hear her.</p>
+
+<p>It was time for the girl to go out, and, as it was Mardi Gras, she hoped
+for large receipts. She returned to her chamber and took her guitar.
+Just as she was going out, she heard a knock on her door. She started,
+and called out:</p>
+
+<p>"Who is it?"</p>
+
+<p>"A friend?"</p>
+
+<p>"Your name?"</p>
+
+<p>"You do not know me."</p>
+
+<p>"Tell me your name."</p>
+
+<p>A stifled oath was the reply.</p>
+
+<p>"Open the door, I say. My name is Robeccal."</p>
+
+<p>The young girl drew a breath of relief, for she was becoming sorely
+frightened by the pursuit of the Vicomte, and an unusual knock made her
+feel that it was he. But the voice and the name of Robeccal
+tranquillized her fears. She opened the door&mdash;our old friend of the
+circus stood before her. He began to grumble and scold.</p>
+
+<p>"I beg your pardon," said the girl, gently, "but I am in haste, and
+if&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Suppose you offer me a chair, young lady! What manners!"</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[Pg 186]</a></span></p><p>Francine repeated that she was in haste, and would be glad to know the
+occasion of his visit. Her manner was so decided that Robeccal saw that
+he must speak.</p>
+
+<p>"I have come," he said, "to put you in the way of earning a little
+money."</p>
+
+<p>"Go on."</p>
+
+<p>"I assist in restaurants on f&ecirc;te days. I am an 'extra,' you understand,
+and am now at the <i>Veau Saut&eacute;</i>, at the corner. You know&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"I know the establishment, certainly."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, the master wishes to give a little entertainment to his customers
+to-night, and I thought of you. He will give you twenty francs."</p>
+
+<p>Twenty francs! It was quite a fortune to the child, and yet she
+hesitated.</p>
+
+<p>"Did the master give you no note for me?" she asked, at length.</p>
+
+<p>"How suspicious you are! What are you afraid of!"</p>
+
+<p>"Nothing. I will call at the restaurant now, when I go out."</p>
+
+<p>"You must decide now, for if you decline I am to go for the man who has
+no arms, but who sings so well."</p>
+
+<p>Robeccal showed her a card on which was written the girl's address and
+that of the armless singer.</p>
+
+<p>Francine's hesitation vanished&mdash;she accepted the proposition.</p>
+
+<p>"I will go," she said, "and at what hour?"</p>
+
+<p>"At eight o'clock, sharp," Robeccal replied.</p>
+
+<p>"And how long shall I be wanted?"</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[Pg 187]</a></span></p><p>A wicked light came into the man's eyes.</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know exactly&mdash;until ten or eleven, I suppose."</p>
+
+<p>"But I must be home before midnight."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh! of course; and if you are afraid to come alone, I am at your
+service. And now, good-bye."</p>
+
+<p>He ran lightly down the stairs. When he reached the street he looked
+around. A man wrapped in a large cloak, a disguise much employed at that
+time, and wearing a broad-brimmed hat, approached him.</p>
+
+<p>"Well?" he said, quickly.</p>
+
+<p>"It is all right!" answered Robeccal. "She will come."</p>
+
+<p>This man, who was none other than Fernando, the worthy friend of the
+Vicomte de Talizac, now slipped a gold piece into the scoundrel's hand.</p>
+
+<p>"Twenty louis more," he said, "when the affair is accomplished!"</p>
+
+<p>"Very good, sir. When I undertake anything, it is sure, let me tell you.
+La Roulante will see to everything."</p>
+
+<p>The two men separated.</p>
+
+<p>While these two accomplices were talking, Francine had reached the
+Square where she was to sing.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[Pg 188]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXV" id="CHAPTER_XXV"></a>CHAPTER XXV.</h2>
+
+<h3>THE VEAU SAUT&Eacute;.</h3>
+
+
+<p>"Hurry up, Perrette! How about that sauce? Have you forgotten the
+parsley?"</p>
+
+<p>And the proprietor of the <i>Veau Saut&eacute;</i> tore about in the most distracted
+manner. Aub&eacute; had dreamed of vast rooms and huge kitchens, but the
+obstinacy of the people already living in the same building could not be
+conquered, and as yet he had not obtained the space he desired. They
+resisted every offer and every threat he made. He could have borne it
+better had these refractory persons been tenants whose vicinity added
+<i>&eacute;clat</i> to his establishment. But it was not so. These tenants were a
+man known as Iron Jaws, a rope dancer called Fanfar, a girl named
+Caillette, and a clown with an odd name.</p>
+
+<p>This Fanfar gave lessons in prestigiation, but the people who went up
+his private stairs were well dressed, and most of them looked like old
+soldiers.</p>
+
+<p>While Aub&eacute; was worrying about these matters and many more, a carriage
+drove up to the door of the restaurant, and three gentlemen got out.
+These were Frederic de Talizac, Fernando de Vellebri, and Arthur de
+Montferrand, the duelist, all strangely alike in their lack of moral
+sense and in their cynicism, neither of them hesitating to do anything,
+however evil, to gratify <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[Pg 189]</a></span>their passions. Room No. 11 was ready for
+these gentlemen. The waiter took their cloaks and hats. Arthur threw
+himself on a sofa, and announced that there was to be no heavy talk
+until the dessert came on.</p>
+
+<p>"Bravo!" said Fernando. "But perhaps you would kindly define what you
+mean by heavy talk? As for you, Frederic, I think you had an interview
+with your father to-day?"</p>
+
+<p>"Champagne!" shouted Frederic, flinging his glass at the door, an
+original manner of summoning a waiter, which he had invented.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," he replied, "and the Marquis is resolved that the marriage shall
+take place in a fortnight&mdash;as if I had not other fish to fry!"</p>
+
+<p>"But it seems to me," said Arthur, "that a union so desirable in every
+respect, a fortune so large&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Do you mean to insinuate, sir, that a fortune is essential?" asked
+Frederic, haughtily.</p>
+
+<p>Here the Italian interfered, and smoothed down the Vicomte's asperities.</p>
+
+<p>At this moment a fresh, young voice rose from the lower room, which was
+crowded, and when the voice ceased there came loud applause.</p>
+
+<p>"That is a charming voice!" said Arthur. "I would like to see this
+nightingale a little nearer."</p>
+
+<p>"And why not?" asked Talizac.</p>
+
+<p>Fernando wished to oppose this idea, which might disarrange his
+carefully prepared plans, but the champagne had by this time affected
+the Vicomte.</p>
+
+<p>"I say," he persisted, angrily, "I do not see any <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[Pg 190]</a></span>objection. I for one
+should like to hear the girl sing up here before the adventure."</p>
+
+<p>"The adventure?" repeated Montferrand.</p>
+
+<p>"A little surprise we have arranged for her&mdash;that is all."</p>
+
+<p>Arthur looked bewildered, and then exclaimed:</p>
+
+<p>"Ah! I see. Bravo!&mdash;call the proprietor, and bid him send the singer to
+us."</p>
+
+<p>"Gentlemen! gentlemen!" said Fernando, "be careful what you do. No
+imprudences! Remember that you are not in the Palais Royal. The people
+down stairs won't stand any nonsense!"</p>
+
+<p>Frederic rang the bell furiously, and the waiter was sent for the
+proprietor. Aub&eacute; presently appeared. He was very obsequious in his
+manner, for the party had ordered bottle after bottle of champagne.</p>
+
+<p>"Who is that girl singing to the people in the caf&eacute;?" asked Frederic,
+abruptly.</p>
+
+<p>"She is called the Marquise, sir&mdash;a pretty little creature, and as good
+as she is pretty!"</p>
+
+<p>"I dare say! Now send her up here, and tell the waiter to bring up three
+more bottles of your best champagne."</p>
+
+<p>Aub&eacute; stood still, twisting his cap in his hands.</p>
+
+<p>"Well?" said Frederic, "why don't you go?"</p>
+
+<p>"I wish to say, sir, that the girl is very respectable."</p>
+
+<p>"We don't doubt it. We will pay her for her song&mdash;three louis, five&mdash;is
+that enough?"</p>
+
+<p>Aub&eacute; felt that he had no right to deprive the girl of this money, and it
+was more than probable that these young fellows were not as wild as they
+seemed. <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[Pg 191]</a></span>Fernando's calm superciliousness reassured him in some degree.</p>
+
+<p>"Are you going?" asked Frederic, somewhat rudely.</p>
+
+<p>Aub&eacute; reluctantly left the room.</p>
+
+<p>The restaurant was filled with customers, all respectable people with
+the exception of those seated around a table in the further corner of
+the room&mdash;they were doubtful in appearance. When Robeccal, in the
+discharge of his duties as "extra," came to this table he lingered
+there, even drinking a glass of wine, first taking care that his
+employer could not see him.</p>
+
+<p>Aub&eacute;, greatly disturbed by the orders he had received, returned to the
+dining-room just as the Marquise was making her rounds to collect the
+money that was laid on the back of her guitar. Aub&eacute; touched her
+shoulder.</p>
+
+<p>"I want to speak to you, petite," he said, as he drew her into a corner.
+"You are not rich, I fancy?"</p>
+
+<p>"I should say not!" And Francine laughed. "What a queer thing to say!"</p>
+
+<p>"I have a proposal to make."</p>
+
+<p>"And what may that be?"</p>
+
+<p>Aub&eacute;'s kindly face inspired the girl with no distrust. He hesitated.</p>
+
+<p>"You know," he said, "that I have no advice to give, but if you choose,
+you can make five louis."</p>
+
+<p>"A hundred francs! You are jesting!"</p>
+
+<p>"And only by singing two or three songs."</p>
+
+<p>"But that would be better pay than the opera singers receive!"</p>
+
+<p>"That may be!"</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[Pg 192]</a></span></p><p>"But where am I to sing?"</p>
+
+<p>"Here&mdash;on the next floor."</p>
+
+<p>"Hallo! ambassador, are you never coming?" shouted Montferrand from the
+top of the stairs.</p>
+
+<p>Francine started.</p>
+
+<p>"They are young men, are they not?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, but you need not be alarmed&mdash;they are only a little gay."</p>
+
+<p>A hundred francs was a good deal of money. She could buy an easy chair
+for the poor invalid, and give her a little treat.</p>
+
+<p>"Well?" asked Aub&eacute;, who would have been glad had she refused.</p>
+
+<p>"I accept," she answered, "but you must not go far away. You must be
+near in case I should call."</p>
+
+<p>"All right. No harm shall come to you in my house, let me tell you."</p>
+
+<p>The girl went toward the stairs.</p>
+
+<p>"What does that mean?" said one of the men at the table at the end of
+the room. "The linnet seems to be going of her own free will!"</p>
+
+<p>"Silence!" said Robeccal, passing the table. "Watch and be ready!"</p>
+
+<p>Meanwhile the people in the restaurant began to grumble at Francine's
+departure. She looked back from the stairs.</p>
+
+<p>"Have a little patience," she said, with her lovely smile, "when I come
+back very shortly, I will sing you my best songs."</p>
+
+<p>She followed Aub&eacute; to No. 11. The proprietor was <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[Pg 193]</a></span>astonished to see that
+the door was open, and that one of the gentlemen had vanished.</p>
+
+<p>Arthur and Fernando were there. Francine had seen the Italian before in
+the street, but Arthur was entirely unknown to her.</p>
+
+<p>"I hope, Mademoiselle, you will sing us something," said Montferrand,
+politely.</p>
+
+<p>Our readers will notice that this young man's instincts were not bad,
+and when removed from Frederic's influence, they resumed their
+ascendancy. The girl's gentle manner, her refined, pure face commended
+his respect.</p>
+
+<p>Aub&eacute;, now quite reassured, hastened back to his duties below.</p>
+
+<p>Francine began a prelude to a simple song, when suddenly she stopped,
+her guitar slipped from her hands. She saw Frederic de Talizac gliding
+into the room.</p>
+
+<p>"Go on, <i>ma belle</i>" he said, "surely you are not afraid of me!" And he
+tried to take her by the waist.</p>
+
+<p>"No," she replied, "I shall sing no more."</p>
+
+<p>Frederic, though very tipsy, threw himself in front of the door.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, you will sing, and for each one of your sweet notes I will give
+you a kiss."</p>
+
+<p>The girl drew back from his extended arms, and turning to the two men
+who stood looking on, she cried, with infinite contempt:</p>
+
+<p>"Cowards! will neither of you interfere to prevent a woman from being
+insulted?"</p>
+
+<p>Arthur's heart was stirred by this appeal.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[Pg 194]</a></span></p><p>"You are right," he replied. "Come, Frederic, no more of this!"</p>
+
+<p>"Are you talking to me?" hiccoughed Frederic. "Take her from me if you
+dare!" And he put his arm around her.</p>
+
+<p>"Help!" cried Francine. "Help!"</p>
+
+<p>At the same moment, Frederic received a tremendous blow from
+Montferrand.</p>
+
+<p>The Vicomte snatched a knife from the table, and the two men engaged in
+a hand to hand contest.</p>
+
+<p>Francine was so terrified that she could not move.</p>
+
+<p>Why had not Aub&eacute; heard this noise? We will return to the lower floor.</p>
+
+<p>Robeccal was disgusted when he saw Francine go up-stairs. He felt that
+the ground was cut from under his feet, and that he was to lose the
+reward he had been promised. He stole partly up the stairs and listened.
+He went on, and when the quarrel burst out and he saw the knife in the
+hand of the Vicomte, he rushed down the stairs, and summoned the men at
+the table, who were on the watch for a signal from him.</p>
+
+<p>Aub&eacute; had heard Francine's cry and ran to her aid, but two of the men
+summoned by Robeccal stood before the door.</p>
+
+<p>"Let me pass!" cried Aub&eacute;.</p>
+
+<p>"Softly, good sir," was the reply. "Don't meddle in what does not
+concern you."</p>
+
+<p>Furious at being thus braved in his own establishment, Aub&eacute; thrust the
+men aside, but was driven back by repeated blows.</p>
+
+<p>He turned to his customers.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[Pg 195]</a></span></p><p>"Gentlemen!" he cried, "they are insulting a poor girl up-stairs. Help
+me to save her; it is the Marquise&mdash;the singer!"</p>
+
+<p>A number of men started up at this appeal.</p>
+
+<p>The two bandits stood on the stairs with knives in their hands, and feet
+and hands ready to repel any one who attempted to ascend the stairs.</p>
+
+<p>"Help! Murder!" shouted Aub&eacute;.</p>
+
+<p>Women screamed, and clung to the arms of their husbands to prevent them
+from taking part in the contest. Others, less courageous, threw bottles
+and glasses at the scoundrels who promptly returned them.</p>
+
+<p>In the meantime, Arthur had thrown Frederic on the floor. Fernando
+endeavored to separate them, but they were no more amenable to reason
+than if they had been wild beasts.</p>
+
+<p>Pale and trembling, Francine leaned against the wall. Robeccal went to
+her.</p>
+
+<p>"Mademoiselle," he said, "this is not my fault. Why did you come up
+here?"</p>
+
+<p>"Why did I?" she repeated in agony.</p>
+
+<p>"I got you into this trouble unintentionally, and now I must get you
+out!"</p>
+
+<p>She did not distrust him, she was too good for that.</p>
+
+<p>"Follow me!" said Robeccal. "I know a way into the street. No one will
+see you."</p>
+
+<p>Arthur and Frederic were still fighting; the tumult below had not
+decreased.</p>
+
+<p>Robeccal took the girl's hand, and led her to the door which opened into
+the private apartments of Aub&eacute;. They passed through these until they
+reached <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[Pg 196]</a></span>another flight of stairs. Down these the girl ran, closely
+followed by Robeccal. They went out through a narrow alley. Suddenly,
+Francine heard a whistle, and she was seized, a handkerchief over her
+head stifled her cries, and she felt that she was being carried away by
+vigorous arms.</p>
+
+<p>"Well done!" said Robeccal, "and now for La Roulante!"</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[Pg 197]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXVI" id="CHAPTER_XXVI"></a>CHAPTER XXVI.</h2>
+
+<h3>A MAN CHASE.</h3>
+
+
+<p>When the men on the stairs heard the whistle blown by Robeccal, they
+rushed through the crowd brandishing their knives. They disappeared in
+the street.</p>
+
+<p>Aub&eacute; hurried up-stairs. Francine had disappeared. Fernando had finally
+succeeded in separating the combatants, and pushed Frederic out of the
+door.</p>
+
+<p>Arthur, foaming with rage, called out to Aub&eacute;:</p>
+
+<p>"Make haste, the girl has been carried off by the order of these people!
+I know what I say!"</p>
+
+<p>Aub&eacute; hastened to his private rooms; he found the door that led to the
+stairs unlocked and open.</p>
+
+<p>"What scoundrels they are!" cried Aub&eacute;.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," answered Montferrand, "but scoundrels who bear the best names in
+France&mdash;one is the Vicomte de Talizac, son of the Marquis de
+Fongereues."</p>
+
+<p>A young man suddenly appeared on the stairs.</p>
+
+<p>"Who speaks of Talizac and de Fongereues?" he asked.</p>
+
+<p>"Ah! Monsieur Fanfar! heaven has sent you to my assistance. My
+establishment is ruined, but that is nothing to the ruin of this poor
+girl!"</p>
+
+<p>"What poor girl?" asked Fanfar. "Pray explain yourself, Monsieur Aub&eacute;."</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[Pg 198]</a></span></p><p>Montferrand had heard that this Fanfar was only a rope-dancer; but his
+air and manner, his dress, too, proclaimed him to hold a very different
+position, and he was greatly attracted by his appearance.</p>
+
+<p>"It is a disgraceful piece of business, sir," he answered, "in which, I
+am sorry to say, I am in a measure concerned;&mdash;the Vicomte de Talizac&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"I knew it!" murmured Fanfar.</p>
+
+<p>"And his friend, Fernando de Vellebri&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"The Italian spy, who betrayed his brothers, the Carbonari, and is now
+the slave of the Jesuits."</p>
+
+<p>"All of which I knew nothing of; but at all events these two men, whom I
+have called my friends, to my shame, have carried off a young girl, a
+street singer&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"A most odious crime; but have you any idea where they have taken her?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, not the slightest."</p>
+
+<p>"And this girl, has she no father, no mother?"</p>
+
+<p>"She is an orphan, and is called the Marquise."</p>
+
+<p>"Ah! but her real name? Where does she live?"</p>
+
+<p>"Only a little way from here, but a man named Robeccal can tell you
+exactly."</p>
+
+<p>"Robeccal! A miserable scoundrel!"</p>
+
+<p>"You know him then?"</p>
+
+<p>"Only too well!"</p>
+
+<p>"I know that the Marquise boards with a woman who is bed-ridden, and I
+remember that she is sometimes spoken of as Cinette, or Francine."</p>
+
+<p>"Cinette!" cried Fanfar, "how old is she!"</p>
+
+<p>"Fifteen or sixteen, I should say."</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[Pg 199]</a></span></p><p>"Merciful Heavens! Can it be she! Am I going mad?"</p>
+
+<p>"What are you saying, sir?" and Montferrand seemed to feel a real
+interest.</p>
+
+<p>"You can't understand, but I shall save her. If I chance to meet that
+Talizac, I will crush him as I would a venomous reptile!"</p>
+
+<p>"You are going in pursuit of the girl?" asked Aub&eacute;.</p>
+
+<p>"Most certainly, nor will I rest until I have rescued her!"</p>
+
+<p>"Accept my services," said Montferrand.</p>
+
+<p>"Where am I to turn? What shall I do first? My head is dizzy." He held
+himself more erect. "But this is no time to give way. Thank you, sir,
+for your generous offer, of which I may avail myself later."</p>
+
+<p>"I regret to have seemed, even for a moment, the accomplice of these
+men. My name is Arthur, son of the Marquis de Montferrand. Here is my
+card."</p>
+
+<p>Fanfar took the bit of shining pasteboard.</p>
+
+<p>"And here is my hand!" added Arthur.</p>
+
+<p>"And now," said Fanfar, after a vigorous exchange of handshaking, "and
+now we have not a moment to lose!"</p>
+
+<p>There was another disturbance below. A great noise, and a voice
+shouting, "Open! in the name of the law!"</p>
+
+<p>Fanfar started.</p>
+
+<p>"At last!" cried Aub&eacute;. "It is the police; probably by this time the men
+are arrested."</p>
+
+<p>Fanfar laid his hand on his shoulder, and said <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[Pg 200]</a></span>rapidly, "No, no; the
+police of Louis XVIII. do not disturb themselves for such trifles; they
+are after other game than criminals&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Open, in the name of the king! If not, we force the door!"</p>
+
+<p>"These officers are in pursuit of men who have sworn eternal war against
+oppression and corruption&mdash;who detest a despotic monarchy and demand a
+free and honest republic!"</p>
+
+<p>"Do you speak of yourself?" asked Montferrand, quickly.</p>
+
+<p>Aub&eacute; opened his eyes wide. Certainly, this was a most extraordinary
+evening!</p>
+
+<p>"You are lost!" cried Montferrand.</p>
+
+<p>"Not yet!" answered Fanfar. "Pray, Monsieur Aub&eacute;, hold them in
+conversation, a few minutes. Good-bye, but remember that I shall rescue
+Francine." As he spoke, he ran lightly up the upper stairs.</p>
+
+<p>Aub&eacute;, according to his instructions, slowly raised the bars of the door,
+at which the police were impatiently knocking. When at last the door was
+opened, a crowd poured in, headed by a Police Commissioner.</p>
+
+<p>"Keeping me waiting in this way will cost you dear, let me tell you!"
+foamed this important functionary.</p>
+
+<p>"But why are you here?" stammered the proprietor of the restaurant.</p>
+
+<p>"I don't suppose we are bound to tell you that, are we? But first, who
+is that man?" and he pointed to Arthur, who pale and covered with blood,
+was not especially reassuring in appearance.</p>
+
+<p>"That man, sir, of whom you speak so rudely," said <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[Pg 201]</a></span>Arthur, with some
+heat, "is the son of the Marquis de Montferrand."</p>
+
+<p>"I beg ten thousand pardons!" said the official, in the most obsequious
+tone, "but this house is a den&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"A den!" gasped Aub&eacute;.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, a den where the enemies of our beloved king plot together."</p>
+
+<p>"And who are these enemies? What may their names be?"</p>
+
+<p>"Gudel, or Iron Jaws, and a scoundrel named Fanfar."</p>
+
+<p>"Indeed! Very good, sir, if you have come to arrest these men, do not
+let me detain you!"</p>
+
+<p>Arthur and Aub&eacute; exchanged a glance. Fanfar was by this time undoubtedly
+in safety.</p>
+
+<p>"The house is well watched," continued the Commissioner, "and they
+cannot escape our vigilance!"</p>
+
+<p>Montferrand started on hearing this. The Commissioner ran up-stairs,
+followed by his men. He reached the upper floor. An oath was heard.</p>
+
+<p>"The birds have flown!" he shouted.</p>
+
+<p>"They went by the roof!" some one called from below. This some one was
+Cyprien, who had been on guard in the street, and had seen forms against
+the sky.</p>
+
+<p>"To the roof, then! And remember your orders, take them alive or dead!"</p>
+
+<p>Cyprien, as agile as a tiger cat, now stood by the side of the
+Commissioner.</p>
+
+<p>"You must go out this way," he said, pointing to the window.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[Pg 202]</a></span></p><p>"Zounds!" muttered the Commissioner, drawing back.</p>
+
+<p>"Take care!" sneered Cyprien, "the king has his eyes on you!"</p>
+
+<p>Thus cheered and encouraged, the Commissioner stepped out on the narrow
+cornice.</p>
+
+<p>"There they are!" cried Cyprien. "There they are! They wish to reach the
+next house. We shall have them! we shall have them!"</p>
+
+<p>Gudel and Fanfar had gone as far as they could. They found they must
+turn. Fanfar stopped short and seemed to be doing something to a
+chimney.</p>
+
+<p>"Surrender!" shouted the Commissioner, some distance off.</p>
+
+<p>"Surrender!" repeated Cyprien.</p>
+
+<p>At this moment a man was seen to vault into space; it was Fanfar, who
+had sprang across the gulf between the two houses. With him he had taken
+the end of the rope which he had fastened to the chimney. He held the
+rope so firmly that it made a bridge. Gudel began the perilous voyage.</p>
+
+<p>"At all events, we will have a dead body!" growled the Commissioner, who
+advanced to cut the rope.</p>
+
+<p>Cyprien did not at first understand.</p>
+
+<p>"Stop!" he shouted. "Stop!"</p>
+
+<p>To kill Gudel was ruin, for he was the only human being who could prove
+Fanfar's birth. But he was too late, the zealous Commissioner had cut
+the rope.</p>
+
+<p>"Fool!" shouted Cyprien, and then he listened to hear the dull thud of
+the body falling on the stones below.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[Pg 203]</a></span></p><p>But he heard nothing, for Gudel had not fallen. By a movement more rapid
+than thought, Fanfar, divining what was to happen, had thrown himself
+flat on the roof with his arms extended beyond the gutter, and had
+shouted to Gudel:</p>
+
+<p>"Hold fast to the rope!"</p>
+
+<p>Iron Jaws snatched the rope between his formidable jaws, and when the
+rope was cut he simply hung and waited. Fanfar slowly drew him up. It
+was a magnificent display of energy and strength. And presently Fanfar
+and Gudel stood side by side.</p>
+
+<p>"Now, gentlemen, it is your turn," said Fanfar.</p>
+
+<p>"No! it is my turn!" shouted Cyprien, taking a pistol from his pocket
+and firing.</p>
+
+<p>The ball broke a slate which fell into the street. As to Gudel and
+Fanfar, they were far away and a high chimney hid them from view.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[Pg 204]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXVII" id="CHAPTER_XXVII"></a>CHAPTER XXVII.</h2>
+
+<h3>A GHOST.</h3>
+
+
+<p>Although our two friends had made their escape for the time being, they
+were by no means in an enviable position, for it must be confessed that
+midnight on the roof of an unknown house is not very delightful. Iron
+Jaws and Fanfar had accomplished a miracle of strength and audacity, but
+what were they to do next?</p>
+
+<p>"I must say that I should like a few hours of rest," said Gudel.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, and we must have a little talk, but where I know not."</p>
+
+<p>Fanfar's tone struck his friend as being rather depressed.</p>
+
+<p>"What is it?" said Gudel. "You have had encounters with the police
+before, and will have again, I imagine."</p>
+
+<p>"It is not that; but first we will walk over these roofs, to the end."</p>
+
+<p>"Very good!"</p>
+
+<p>They started, Fanfar going a little in front. Suddenly he stopped.</p>
+
+<p>"Zounds!" he said, "here is a wide courtyard; it is impossible for us to
+cross it. We must get down now."</p>
+
+<p>"And how, for Heaven's sake!"</p>
+
+<p>"By taking hold of the gutters and the balconies."</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[Pg 205]</a></span></p><p>"One would suppose that we were gorillas," sighed Gudel.</p>
+
+<p>"We must do something!"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, but I am a little heavy, as you have reason to acknowledge. How
+can we tell that guards are not below waiting for us. Let us see if we
+can't get into some window."</p>
+
+<p>"And find the room inhabited?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh! I will explain that we don't mean to steal, but that we will give
+him money if he will aid us."</p>
+
+<p>"Very good. Now do you take the lead, I will follow."</p>
+
+<p>Fanfar was strangely preoccupied. While Gudel talked to him a voice was
+continually repeating in his ear:</p>
+
+<p>"Cinette! Cinette!"</p>
+
+<p>Gudel saw that there was something unusual going on in the mind of his
+friend. He had been long accustomed to unquestioning obedience to
+Fanfar. Ever since La Roulante left him after the attempt at
+assassination, Gudel had been a different man and subject to fits of
+great depression from which Fanfar alone could rouse him, and when
+Fanfar rushed into his room calling out, "The police! the police!" Gudel
+followed him without a question.</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly Gudel stumbled. Fanfar caught him, but it was too late. There
+was a crash of broken glass. Gudel had broken one of those small windows
+in the roof which landlords consider sufficient for tenants who pay only
+sixty francs per annum for their attics. And from this window emerged a
+long, strange, white <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[Pg 206]</a></span>object, which was probably a man, as it terminated
+in a white cotton nightcap. This strange form had two long arms. One
+hand held a candle and the other sheltered it from the wind. There was a
+yell of amazement from their throats.</p>
+
+<p>"Fanfar!"</p>
+
+<p>"Bobichel!"</p>
+
+<p>"I thought you were dead, Bobichel," said Iron Jaws, severely.</p>
+
+<p>"No, I am not dead; but I was asleep."</p>
+
+<p>"You are alone!"</p>
+
+<p>"Of course!"</p>
+
+<p>"Then you can take us in."</p>
+
+<p>Bobichel uttered an oath. "Of course I can!" he shouted.</p>
+
+<p>It was clear that he was not a ghost. Ghosts do not swear nor carry
+candles in their hands. Finally the three were seated in a small attic
+about four yards square. They all talked at once.</p>
+
+<p>How did Bobichel get there? Where had he been?</p>
+
+<p>He had been taken to the hospital and there detained on account of some
+peculiarities in his condition, which greatly excited the curiosity of
+the medical students. One day as Bobichel was recovering, he was in the
+garden and noticed a door in the wall, and saw that the gardener had
+left his key in it. He selected the moment judiciously, and finally
+found himself on the road to Paris, where he had arrived that very
+morning. He had not a sou, but he had rented this garret which the
+landlord had had on his hands for three months by reason of the rats,
+and therefore nobly refrained from <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[Pg 207]</a></span>asking money in advance. A bundle of
+straw had taken his remaining five sous, and on this the ex-clown
+extended himself, thinking of the past and resolutely closing his eyes
+to the future. His first care was to regain his strength, which had been
+sorely taxed by his journey. While half asleep, he had heard steps on
+the roof, and with a vague belief that the whole hospital force were in
+pursuit of him, he resolved to brave them. Fate had brought to him,
+however, his two best friends&mdash;Gudel and Fanfar.</p>
+
+<p>After they had heard this explanation, it became Bobichel's turn to
+question.</p>
+
+<p>"Let Fanfar tell you," said Gudel. "I really know nothing except that he
+bade me fly, that my neck has been nearly broken, and that he saved my
+life; but why I have been obliged to run about over roofs in this way, I
+really can't say."</p>
+
+<p>"Perhaps you are still conspiring?" asked Bobichel, innocently.</p>
+
+<p>Fanfar shouted with laughter. "Yes," he replied, "and more than ever!"</p>
+
+<p>"Tell me," asked the clown, "is it a difficult trade? I have nothing in
+the world to do, and I must have some occupation, of course."</p>
+
+<p>"We will see about that later."</p>
+
+<p>"You have said nothing about Mademoiselle Caillette."</p>
+
+<p>"She is in safety. She knew nothing of the pursuit of the police.
+To-morrow, before she begins to be uneasy, we will send her word where
+we are, and bid her come to us."</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[Pg 208]</a></span></p><p>The clock struck two.</p>
+
+<p>"Do you hear that, Bobichel?" said Fanfar. "You are far from strong, and
+must rest."</p>
+
+<p>"No, no. I have found you, and there is rest in that!"</p>
+
+<p>"My dear fellow, you must get yourself into the best possible condition
+if you join us. You will need your legs, I assure you. Sleep, Bobichel,
+sleep."</p>
+
+<p>The truth was that, in spite of his good intentions, Bobichel was dead
+with sleep, and presently he tumbled upon his mattress, and loud snores
+informed the two friends that he had succumbed to their entreaties.
+Then, and not until then, Fanfar leaned toward Gudel.</p>
+
+<p>"You will admit," he said, "that I do not easily become a prey to
+illusions, but the truth is, that I am greatly disturbed by something
+that has happened. Will you answer a few questions?"</p>
+
+<p>"Certainly, my boy&mdash;any questions."</p>
+
+<p>"You know, my second father, the strange accident by which I was thrown
+in your way. You have told me of the researches you made in the village
+of Leigoutte. You learned, did you not, that my mother perished in a
+fire?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes&mdash;a fire set by the Cossacks."</p>
+
+<p>"And my father?"</p>
+
+<p>"Died on the field of battle, in the defence of France!"</p>
+
+<p>"I am haunted by a dim remembrance of a flight through the darkness,
+leading my little sister by my side, and then she seemed to vanish."</p>
+
+<p>"And you have never seen her since?"</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[Pg 209]</a></span></p><p>"No; but I have never forgotten her, and I am convinced that if she is
+living she has not forgotten her brother. Ah! when I think of all this,
+I hate more than ever the oppressors of France, who have opened a road
+to the throne over dead bodies!"</p>
+
+<p>"But why are you troubled with these thoughts to-day?"</p>
+
+<p>"I will tell you. My sister's name was Francine, but we called her
+Cinette, and this evening a girl was carried away by violence from the
+<i>Veau Saut&eacute;</i>."</p>
+
+<p>"And that Aub&eacute; has such a good face!"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh! he was not concerned in this villainy. The crime was committed by a
+man who has more than once crossed our path&mdash;the Vicomte de Talizac!"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh! what a family that is!" cried Gudel. "It was his lacquey, or his
+father's, who denounced us to-night!"</p>
+
+<p>"This is not all. The truth is, Gudel&mdash;you will probably think me
+mad&mdash;but I am convinced that the girl who was carried off&mdash;the one
+called Cinette&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"You mean that you believe her to be your&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"I can't reason," interrupted Fanfar. "It is the name of my little
+sister, and the conviction is unalterable that this girl is my sister.
+And now I can do nothing for her, and she in such deadly peril!" He
+stopped short. "Gudel," he exclaimed, "you have never seen me shrink
+from danger?"</p>
+
+<p>"Not I."</p>
+
+<p>"And yet, to-night I feel as weak as a child."</p>
+
+<p>Tears came into the eyes of Fanfar as he spoke. His <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[Pg 210]</a></span>nerves were
+thoroughly shaken by the exertions he had made to save Gudel and
+himself.</p>
+
+<p>Bobichel here lifted himself up.</p>
+
+<p>"Fanfar," he said, "let me help you!"</p>
+
+<p>At these kind words uttered by this honest, faithful voice, Fanfar
+started. He had no right to despair, he said to himself, when he had
+such friends.</p>
+
+<p>"You are right, Bobichel," he cried. "I have no right to talk of my
+energy, for I am trembling like a woman!"</p>
+
+<p>"I should like to tell you what I think, sir," the clown stammered,
+"though I do not wish to take a liberty, but didn't you say you thought
+you had found your sister?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh! do not say that!"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, I must say it, and I think it would be best if you made up your
+mind that it was she, and acted on that supposition."</p>
+
+<p>"I think you are right. I am told that this girl lives with a poor
+paralytic. I will go to her and question her. From her replies I shall
+be able to judge if chance has really put me on the track of her whom I
+lost so long ago. But we ought to follow these scoundrels at once!"</p>
+
+<p>"I will see to them!" said Iron Jaws.</p>
+
+<p>"Can you give me the smallest clue?"</p>
+
+<p>"Only that of Robeccal's name."</p>
+
+<p>"Robeccal's name!" exclaimed Bobichel. "If he has anything to do with
+this matter I will soon finish him up."</p>
+
+<p>Fanfar laid his hand on Gudel's shoulder.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[Pg 211]</a></span></p><p>"My friend," he said, "I hesitate to touch an unhealed wound, but we
+must speak frankly to each other. La Roulante and this Robeccal went
+away together. This woman was thoroughly vicious; it is difficult to
+imagine the scale of vice to which she would not fall. I am sorry to
+pain you, but I feel sure if Robeccal has assisted in carrying away this
+girl that he has placed her with La Roulante. Therefore, while I go to
+see Cinette's sick friend, you will hunt up this woman and her
+accomplice. Will you do this, Gudel?"</p>
+
+<p>Gudel, whose face had been buried in his hands, now looked up.</p>
+
+<p>"Fanfar," he said, "were I to die of shame and grief, I will obey you,
+for I should be doing a good act."</p>
+
+<p>"This girl must be saved! I dare not indulge in the hope that she is
+Cinette, and, moreover, I need all my courage. Gudel, your hand.
+Bobichel, I rely on you!"</p>
+
+<p>These friends in a cordial grasp of their hands, exchanged a solemn oath
+which bound them to the sacred cause of justice.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[Pg 212]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXVIII" id="CHAPTER_XXVIII"></a>CHAPTER XXVIII.</h2>
+
+<h3>CINETTE! CINETTE!</h3>
+
+
+<p>Francine's chamber is dark. The little bed with its white curtains looks
+as if it were built of marble. There is not a sound. The room is empty.
+The hours pass on, and still Francine does not return. Her absence
+excites great wonder in the house, for she is always in very early.
+"Could anything have happened to her?" one person asked another, but not
+a voice breathed a word reflecting on the girl's purity. Had any one
+known where she had gone, some one would have started in search of her.
+The porter looked once more down the street; the clock had struck
+twelve. No one came.</p>
+
+<p>In the gray, chilly dawn, a hand slowly pushed open the door of
+Cinette's room. It is the mad woman. She instinctively knows that
+Francine never goes to sleep at night without kissing her. She has not
+felt those dewy lips touch her forehead this night. Restless and uneasy
+this sick woman, who for years has hardly left her bed, has crawled to
+Cinette's room. She is familiar with it, for she has many times implored
+Francine to take her there; and when the girl succeeded in doing so, the
+old woman laughed to see the curtains so white and the flowers so gay.</p>
+
+<p>She reaches the bed, and feels with her poor withered <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[Pg 213]</a></span>hands for the
+girl's head. Cinette is not there, and the poor creature realizes it and
+weeps in agony. She would have reminded one of an Hindoo idol had she
+been seen. An hour elapsed, but the poor deformed woman still lies
+there.</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly she raises her head. She hears rapid steps on the stairs. When
+Cinette went out she had locked the door of her room. The porter to be
+sure had another key. When some one knocked at the porter's lodge he was
+not yet up, and answered gruffly that the Marquise had not come in and
+the old woman could not move. There were several rapid knocks on the
+door.</p>
+
+<p>"Open! open!" a voice called.</p>
+
+<p>The voice had a strange, familiar tone. She listens. And Fanfar, for it
+is he, repeats his demand.</p>
+
+<p>"In the name of Francine, I beg you to open the door. It is for her
+sake."</p>
+
+<p>By what miracle did this paralyzed frame struggle to her feet? She takes
+a step&mdash;then another.</p>
+
+<p>"Make haste!" said Fanfar.</p>
+
+<p>The woman obeys. She turns the key in the lock, with many efforts, but
+it is done. Fanfar enters, and in the pale morning light is confronted
+by this horrible apparition. He contemplates her with horror and pity.</p>
+
+<p>"Madame," he said, "is not Francine here?"</p>
+
+<p>She did not reply. She is looking at him earnestly.</p>
+
+<p>"She has been carried off, by a man named Talizac."</p>
+
+<p>The sick woman tried to repeat this name.</p>
+
+<p>"Tell me," continued Fanfar, "the life of this girl, who cares for you,
+who loves you, may depend on what you tell me. Have you ever seen any
+man by the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">[Pg 214]</a></span>name of Talizac here? And a woman of great size known as La
+Roulante, has she never been here to propose an infamous bargain?"</p>
+
+<p>But he is interrupted. The paralytic falls upon her knees, and
+stretching out her arms, cries:</p>
+
+<p>"Jacques! Jacques!"</p>
+
+<p>"Who is this terrible creature," asks Jacques, "who calls me by the name
+of my boyhood?"</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly a strange idea flashes into his mind. He looks eagerly into the
+eyes of the poor woman. He recognizes her; he leans over her.</p>
+
+<p>"You called me Jacques, did you not? Yes, that was my name, when I was a
+boy in a village among the mountains. My father's name was Simon, Simon
+Foug&egrave;re, and I had a little sister Cinette."</p>
+
+<p>The woman quivered from head to foot. She threw her arms around his
+neck.</p>
+
+<p>"Jacques! my child! My name is Fran&ccedil;oise, and I am the widow of Simon
+Foug&egrave;re."</p>
+
+<p>"Mother! dear mother!"</p>
+
+<p>This shock has been so great that the vail that obscured the poor
+woman's brain was rent in twain. She sees, she knows, she understands.
+It is he&mdash;it is the boy she held on her knees, in those days so long
+ago. He took her tenderly in his arms, and both weep.</p>
+
+<p>"Ah! dear mother," he said, "you braved death for the sake of your
+children. How did you escape?"</p>
+
+<p>But the momentary glimmer of reason had in a measure vanished, and when
+he spoke of Cinette she did not seem to be aware of who the girl was.</p>
+
+<p>"You must listen to me, mother," said Fanfar, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">[Pg 215]</a></span>rapidly. "Jacques was not
+alone in that inn. There was another child; she was small, she had light
+curls."</p>
+
+<p>His voice was so sympathetic and persuasive that Fran&ccedil;oise saw it all,
+saw the little rosy face once more.</p>
+
+<p>What was to be done? Time was passing, and now Fanfar knew that she who
+was in the power of a scoundrel, was his little sister Francine. He sees
+a miniature hanging on the wall, he takes it down.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, it is she&mdash;it is Cinette!" he cries.</p>
+
+<p>The sick woman snatches it from his hand. She looks at it.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, it is my child."</p>
+
+<p>"And you never knew it before?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, she called me mamma, but I never called her daughter."</p>
+
+<p>"And, mother, your daughter is in danger."</p>
+
+<p>"Ah! I knew it, she did not kiss me to-night. Where is she?"</p>
+
+<p>"In the power of a scoundrel, of the Vicomte de Talizac."</p>
+
+<p>"Talizac!" The sick woman was troubled by the name, but she could not
+grasp the memories it had aroused.</p>
+
+<p>The door opened hastily, and Gudel appeared.</p>
+
+<p>"Gudel! Have you found Robeccal or La Roulante?"</p>
+
+<p>"They have vanished. They have been living in la Rue des Venaigrurs, but
+last night they announced that they were about to move."</p>
+
+<p>"And this is all you have discovered?"</p>
+
+<p>"All."</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">[Pg 216]</a></span></p><p>"Then Gudel, I must tell you that this unfortunate creature I have in my
+arms is my mother, and Francine is my sister."</p>
+
+<p>Gudel looked utterly aghast. Before he could speak, Bobichel appeared.</p>
+
+<p>"I beg your pardon, sir," he said to Fanfar, "but knowing that the sick
+lady was alone, I went for some one."</p>
+
+<p>Caillette stepped forward.</p>
+
+<p>The girl said in a low voice to Fanfar:</p>
+
+<p>"Will you allow me to take care of your mother?"</p>
+
+<p>She then turned to Fran&ccedil;oise, and kissed her as Cinette would have
+done.</p>
+
+<p>"Good, kind souls!" murmured Fanfar, "with the assistance of such people
+we ought to succeed."</p>
+
+<p>He kissed his mother again, then turning to Gudel and Bobichel, he
+cried:</p>
+
+<p>"Come with me! And may Eternal Justice be with us also!"</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">[Pg 217]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXIX" id="CHAPTER_XXIX"></a>CHAPTER XXIX.</h2>
+
+<h3>A CONSPIRACY.</h3>
+
+
+<p>When Francine found herself in the power of these scoundrels she fainted
+away, and these men carried her over their shoulders as if she had been
+a bag of flour, perfectly indifferent to her beauty.</p>
+
+<p>Robeccal suddenly bade them halt. They had reached the vile place known
+as the Cour de Bretagne, a part of Paris known for its poverty and vice.</p>
+
+<p>"I think it is about time!" grumbled one of Robeccal's men in reply.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh! I suppose you thought you were to be paid for nothing, did you?"</p>
+
+<p>Without heeding the growling of these fellows, Robeccal stepped up to a
+door and knocked. It was opened by a person who stood back in the
+shadow, and a hurried conversation took place. Satisfied apparently with
+what he heard, Robeccal bade his men follow him. They went to
+Belleville, which at that time was an excessively pretty place, as
+almost all the houses of any pretension had gardens and grounds.
+Robeccal had been extremely adroit in diverting suspicion and the
+observation of the people they encountered. He now knocked at a door in
+a wall half hidden by overhanging ivy.</p>
+
+<p>"Who is there?" called a woman's voice.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">[Pg 218]</a></span></p><p>"Robec and the kid," was the reply.</p>
+
+<p>The door opened noiselessly on well-oiled hinges.</p>
+
+<p>"Come in, all of you." It was Roulante who spoke.</p>
+
+<p>Francine was at once carried to a little cottage at the foot of a long
+garden, where, still unconscious, she was laid on a couch.</p>
+
+<p>Then Robeccal paid his assistants the sum agreed upon. They were not
+altogether satisfied, but he managed to get rid of them.</p>
+
+<p>La Roulante was unchanged since the day when she and her lover discussed
+the assassination of Iron Jaws.</p>
+
+<p>"I have done well, have I not?" asked Robeccal, with a friendly tap on
+the massive shoulders of this monstrosity.</p>
+
+<p>"Her beauty is not marred, I hope?" she asked, anxiously.</p>
+
+<p>"I am not such a fool as that! But I am afraid that the handkerchief was
+too tight. She is confoundedly pretty, that is a fact!"</p>
+
+<p>"What is that to you?" asked the giantess, angrily. "Now give me that
+bottle."</p>
+
+<p>"What are you going to do?"</p>
+
+<p>"None of your business! Hand it here."</p>
+
+<p>The woman poured out something that looked like wine, and dropped a
+spoonful between the girl's lips. She had so much difficulty in doing
+so, that Robeccal took a knife from his pocket, and inserted it between
+Francine's close shut teeth. As soon as the liquid disappeared down the
+girl's throat she started.</p>
+
+<p>"You are not poisoning her?" asked Robeccal.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">[Pg 219]</a></span></p><p>"Am I a fool? Hark! I hear a carriage. Take this girl up-stairs."</p>
+
+<p>Robeccal snatched Francine from the sofa, and ran lightly up the stairs.</p>
+
+<p>The room above was elegantly furnished, and had long windows looking out
+upon the garden, which seemed to stretch out indefinitely. In reality it
+ended at no very great distance in a wall sixteen feet in height.</p>
+
+<p>As Robeccal laid the girl on the bed, he looked at her again with some
+anxiety. She was absolutely motionless.</p>
+
+<p>There came a knock at the door. Robeccal started.</p>
+
+<p>"That must be he!" said La Roulante.</p>
+
+<p>It was in fact Talizac, who had arrived. Fernando was with him, but the
+Vicomte had knocked with the handle of his cane. It was not the signal
+agreed upon, and the door was not opened. Suddenly Frederic uttered an
+oath.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh! it is he!" said Robeccal. "That is better than a visiting card!"</p>
+
+<p>But La Roulante insisted on a little argument through the door before
+she would consent to move the heavy bolts.</p>
+
+<p>"Damned sorceress!" cried Talizac, "you deserve that I should cut your
+face with my cane, for keeping me waiting so long."</p>
+
+<p>La Roulante made no reply to this gentle address, and Talizac, with
+blood-stained face and torn clothing, entered the house, followed by
+Fernando, who was as dignified and correct in costume as he always was.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">[Pg 220]</a></span></p><p>When Talizac reached the salon, he dropped into a chair. "Water! for the
+love of Heaven, give me some water!" he murmured. He felt almost ill,
+and would have been glad of a few hours of rest. "Is she here?" he
+asked.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, she is here," answered La Roulante.</p>
+
+<p>Talizac rose. "I must repair the disorder of my toilette," he said.
+"Robeccal, come with me."</p>
+
+<p>On Talizac's return, he asked La Roulante where the Marquise was.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh! she is asleep," was the reply.</p>
+
+<p>"Show me where she is, and move a little faster!"</p>
+
+<p>"It strikes me, sir, that you are not over polite," muttered Robeccal.</p>
+
+<p>"Let him have his own way," sneered the giantess; "he is in a hurry to
+see his darling, and has no time to be civil!" She made a grotesque
+reverence as she spoke. She preceded the Vicomte to show him the way.
+"Do you know," she cried, stopping on the stairs, "that the girl is as
+pretty as a pink."</p>
+
+<p>"That is none of your affairs," answered Talizac, roughly, "I pay you to
+serve me, not to talk!"</p>
+
+<p>"You are a little hard on us, I think," said La Roulante, with a sneer,
+"but I suppose when people are rich they can say and do as they please!"</p>
+
+<p>"Is that the room?" Talizac asked, as he reached the top of the stairs,
+"if so, open the door at once, or I will force it!"</p>
+
+<p>"No, you won't injure my house like that! But you want to see her, do
+you? Very well, I will show her to you, then."</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">[Pg 221]</a></span></p><p>She quickly slid back a narrow panel in the door, which permitted him to
+look into the room.</p>
+
+<p>"Look in, gentlemen and ladies," said La Roulante, in the sing-song tone
+of a showman at the circus, "look in, it won't cost you anything!" And
+then the creature laughed.</p>
+
+<p>Talizac did not heed her, but leaning toward the open panel looked at
+Francine, who lay with her arms folded on her breast like a child. Her
+hair was loosened, and nothing could have been lovelier than this face
+with its delicate features, reminding one of Raphael's pictures. Talizac
+looked, and forgot that this child was the victim of a miserable
+conspiracy. He was so impressed by her beauty and her innocence that he
+was ready to kneel before her. But La Roulante touched his arm with a
+cynical laugh.</p>
+
+<p>"Open the door, I say!"</p>
+
+<p>La Roulante closed the panel with a snap, and slowly drew a key from her
+pocket and stood with it in her fingers, and then said quietly and
+firmly:</p>
+
+<p>"If I unlock that door, it will cost you twenty thousand francs!"</p>
+
+<p>Talizac started back. "What do you mean?" he exclaimed.</p>
+
+<p>"Just what I say, twenty thousand francs!"</p>
+
+<p>"But this is abominable. Have I not paid the sum agreed upon?"</p>
+
+<p>"A trifle, yes; but that won't do!"</p>
+
+<p>"It is robbery, bare-faced robbery&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"None of that, sir, you are not so honest yourself, that you can afford
+to taunt others!"</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">[Pg 222]</a></span></p><p>He looked at her in astonishment, and then rushed at the door as if to
+force it open. She called for Robeccal, who hurried to obey her summons.
+Talizac called Fernando, and Robeccal turned back. Drawing an enormous
+knife, he said, fiercely:</p>
+
+<p>"Don't you interfere! My wife will settle her own matters with this
+gentleman!"</p>
+
+<p>Fernando's attitude during the fight between Frederic and Montferrand
+has already informed us as to the courage of this man. Perhaps he was
+wise in not risking his life to defend Talizac, whom he estimated at his
+proper value. He was interested in the Fongereues family only as an
+emissary of that Society which at that time labored to strangle
+Liberalism at its birth.</p>
+
+<p>"Very good!" answered Fernando, shrugging his shoulders indifferently,
+but as he did not propose to be mixed up in any disagreeable affair in
+this house, he determined to take himself off.</p>
+
+<p>The giantess was not alarmed by Talizac's mad attempt. She calmly lifted
+him by the collar and landed him on the stairs, half way down.</p>
+
+<p>"Robbers! Murderers!" shouted the Vicomte.</p>
+
+<p>"Confound you! hold your tongue!" said Robeccal, flourishing the knife
+which had such an effect on Fernando.</p>
+
+<p>"Why do you not keep your word?" angrily asked the Vicomte; "you
+promised&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"People like us do not keep our promises," answered La Roulante,
+cynically. "You paid us for carrying off the girl, you paid us for
+giving her a shelter; we have <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">[Pg 223]</a></span>done both. But if you wish to enter that
+room it will cost you twenty thousand francs!"</p>
+
+<p>"But that is an enormous sum!" moaned Talizac.</p>
+
+<p>"Not to a man like you, who has a grandee for a father, and a mother
+rolling in wealth. She has diamonds, plenty of them!"</p>
+
+<p>"Wretches that you are!"</p>
+
+<p>"Thank you! I don't care for any more of these hard names, if it is all
+the same to you! And now let me tell you, if you don't hand over this
+money that the police will be at your heels."</p>
+
+<p>At the word police, Fernando went to the Vicomte. "Come," he said, "we
+had better not remain in this cut-throat place. You must give the matter
+up, that is all there is to be said."</p>
+
+<p>"No, I tell you, no!" Feeling in his pocket, Talizac drew out a handful
+of gold and flung it at the woman.</p>
+
+<p>"Take this," he cried, "and unlock that door!"</p>
+
+<p>La Roulante counted the money. "No," she replied, "this is but
+thirty-two louis."</p>
+
+<p>"Come," persisted Fernando, dragging Talizac away.</p>
+
+<p>"Call again!" shouted the woman. "You need not be in a hurry, but call
+again!"</p>
+
+<p>And the door closed.</p>
+
+<p>"My idea is a good one," said La Roulante to Robeccal. "He will come
+back, and will bring the twenty thousand francs!"</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">[Pg 224]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXX" id="CHAPTER_XXX"></a>CHAPTER XXX.</h2>
+
+<h3>MACHIAVELLI &amp; CO.</h3>
+
+
+<p>Day was breaking. The Marquis de Fongereues was standing in his
+dressing-room, listening with frowning brow to Cyprien, who was
+narrating the events of the night.</p>
+
+<p>"I assure you, sir," said the valet, obsequiously, "that every precaution
+was taken, and yet we failed."</p>
+
+<p>"There is one comfort&mdash;that Fanfar is every day compromising himself
+more deeply with these conspirators."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, and when the hour comes, Fanfar's condemnation is certain."</p>
+
+<p>"But if he escapes us?"</p>
+
+<p>"Impossible! We shall have him, even if we are forced to put the entire
+police on his track!"</p>
+
+<p>A lacquey knocked at the door and entered.</p>
+
+<p>"The Marquis de Montferrand desires to see you, sir, on a matter of
+great importance."</p>
+
+<p>"Show him up at once!" said his master, who added to Cyprien: "Do not go
+away. I do not like this visit&mdash;I may need your services. Take your
+position behind that porti&egrave;re."</p>
+
+<p>The heavy folds had scarcely fallen over him when the Marquis appeared.
+He was a noble-looking, white haired old man. He was excessively pale.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">[Pg 225]</a></span></p><p>"Monsieur de Fongereues," he said, "we are morally responsible for the
+crimes our children commit, are we not?"</p>
+
+<p>"How do you mean?"</p>
+
+<p>"I speak of the Vicomte de Talizac, who is dishonoring himself,
+dishonors you, and compromises the cause to which you belong!"</p>
+
+<p>"My son is young&mdash;if he has committed some peccadillo&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Peccadillo is hardly the word to use. Are you thus lenient toward one
+who is some day to bear your name?"</p>
+
+<p>Fongereues writhed under this severe language, and yet he tried to
+contain himself, for De Montferrand was a precious ally. It was he who
+had induced Monsieur de Salves to accept the overtures of marriage made
+by the De Fongereues family.</p>
+
+<p>"Speak," he said, "speak frankly. Your age and the long intimacy
+existing between our families give you the right to do so."</p>
+
+<p>"The Vicomte de Talizac has this night endeavored to murder my son!"</p>
+
+<p>"Impossible, sir!"</p>
+
+<p>"My son never lies. He endeavored to prevent an infamous act, and
+Talizac attacked him with a knife. Arthur in return slapped the
+Vicomte's face."</p>
+
+<p>Fongereues started forward.</p>
+
+<p>"Wait!" said the old gentleman. "Hear my tale. Talizac paid scoundrels
+to abduct a girl, a street singer. My son became disgusted with the
+adventure, and it was then that the Vicomte attacked him. <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226">[Pg 226]</a></span>To-morrow the
+journals will all have this tale. I shall lay the facts before Monsieur
+de Salves, as it was I who acted as intermediary in the proposed
+marriage."</p>
+
+<p>Fongereues became livid. He staggered, and caught at a table for
+support.</p>
+
+<p>At this moment a porti&egrave;re was lifted, and Magdalena, Talizac's mother,
+appeared. Fongereues exclaimed:</p>
+
+<p>"Madame! your son is a scoundrel. He is ruined, as are we all! This is
+the result of the education you have given him!"</p>
+
+<p>Magdalena looked perfectly unmoved.</p>
+
+<p>"Monsieur de Montferrand," she said, "I am aware that my son has been
+unfortunate enough to quarrel with yours. I come with his apologies."</p>
+
+<p>"Apologies!" repeated both gentlemen, in amazement.</p>
+
+<p>"You are astonished, I see, but remember that I am a mother, though I
+bear the name of de Fongereues. I know that my son has been greatly in
+the wrong. I know the whole story, and I cannot see why there should be
+so much said because the Vicomte de Talizac chanced to admire a daughter
+of the people. You talk of crime, of infamy. These are large words for a
+small matter. But the quarrel between the young men is of more
+importance. They had both been drinking, and I sincerely trust that such
+folly will be forgotten in view of the old friendship between the
+families. And I authorize you to kiss my hand as a token of forgiveness
+and reconciliation."</p>
+
+<p>This little speech had been delivered with such assurance and ease that
+the old Marquis was nearly <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227">[Pg 227]</a></span>taken off his feet. The fair Magdalena was
+still beautiful.</p>
+
+<p>Monsieur de Montferrand bowed over the fair hand, and Fongereues
+wondered and admired.</p>
+
+<p>"And now let us talk a little," the lady said, as she seated herself. "I
+must not omit to say that my son promises not to see this girl again&mdash;it
+was but a passing fever. I realize that, and I promise to use all my
+influence with my son to induce him to forget this affair. But what are
+we to do to silence the scandal which will certainly be on every tongue
+to-morrow? Yes, that is the first consideration. The girl will be free
+in a few hours, and her silence can be bought. I am particularly anxious
+that there shall be no talk, as it would interfere greatly with my
+plans."</p>
+
+<p>Fongereues ventured to ask to what plans his wife referred.</p>
+
+<p>"You are aware," she said, "that for some time I have been anxious to
+obtain for my son a captaincy in His Majesty's Guards."</p>
+
+<p>"Well?" asked her husband, breathlessly.</p>
+
+<p>"I have received the royal promise, and to-day Talizac will have his
+commission, and also the order of Saint-Louis."</p>
+
+<p>This was an immense joy to Fongereues, and from that moment the
+monarchist&mdash;the Marquis de Montferrand&mdash;felt that Talizac, a captain in
+the King's Guard, could do no evil.</p>
+
+<p>"Forgive a mother's vanity," continued Magdalena. "I have sent out a
+large number of invitations for this evening, and as soon as the officer
+of His Majesty's <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228">[Pg 228]</a></span>household hands to my son the commission which he has
+won by his merits and the badge of the Legion of Honor, Monsieur de
+Fongereues will officially announce the marriage of his son to
+Mademoiselle Salves. I rely on your aid, Monsieur de Montferrand."</p>
+
+<p>"Ah! Madame," cried the old Marquis, "you are excessively clever, and
+you are an angel!"</p>
+
+<p>She smiled.</p>
+
+<p>"Arthur will come with you, I am sure, so that no cloud shall remain in
+our sky."</p>
+
+<p>"Certainly, Madame, my son will come. Captain of the Guards&mdash;Chevalier
+de Saint-Louis. Zounds! that is a good deal for one day!"</p>
+
+<p>"To-night, then, I shall see you, Marquis!" said Magdalena, as she rose
+from her chair.</p>
+
+<p>Montferrand raised her hands to his lips once more, and took his leave.</p>
+
+<p>Instantly Fongereues turned to his wife.</p>
+
+<p>"Is this true?" he asked.</p>
+
+<p>She shrugged her shoulders disdainfully, and left the room in silence.
+She went to her son's chamber.</p>
+
+<p>"It is all settled," she said to him. "In a few hours you will have the
+twenty thousand francs you need to silence this scandal, and you will
+try to make yourself worthy of the favor of your king."</p>
+
+<p>As soon as his mother left the room, Frederic sent to the house at
+Belleville, by a trusty messenger, the following note:</p>
+
+<p>"I will be with you at four o'clock&mdash;shall bring the sum required. I
+desire that you shall leave me alone in the house with&mdash;&mdash;you know."</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">[Pg 229]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXI" id="CHAPTER_XXXI"></a>CHAPTER XXXI.</h2>
+
+<h3>TRIUMPH.</h3>
+
+
+<p>A triumph like this was, of course, to be celebrated by La Roulante and
+Robeccal after their own fashion. They sat opposite each other at a
+table covered with bottles. In the centre lay the bag of gold. As they
+talked they played with it, making it up in little piles and arranging
+it in figures.</p>
+
+<p>"We will buy a little place in the country, now," said La Roulante, as
+she filled her glass.</p>
+
+<p>"Why does the girl sleep like this?" asked Robeccal.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh! it is a secret that I learned some time ago&mdash;to make little girls
+submissive."</p>
+
+<p>There was a sudden sound, a long, shivering sigh from above stairs.</p>
+
+<p>"Did you hear that?" asked Robeccal, in a startled tone.</p>
+
+<p>"It is nothing!" answered La Roulante, superciliously. "It is only the
+girl waking up at last!"</p>
+
+<p>"But she will scream, I am sure!"</p>
+
+<p>"Let her, if she dare!" and the giantess clenched her enormous fist. "I
+would crush her to jelly if she did!"</p>
+
+<p>"And then you would lose the twenty thousand francs!"</p>
+
+<p>The woman nodded in a tipsy manner.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230">[Pg 230]</a></span></p><p>"That's so!" she answered. "I had best go and talk to the Princess,
+anyway."</p>
+
+<p>Another long sigh.</p>
+
+<p>"I am coming! I am coming!" grunted La Roulante, slowly feeling her way
+up the stairs that creaked under her weight. She drew the key from her
+pocket with considerable difficulty, and finally succeeded in opening
+the door.</p>
+
+<p>The young girl lay in the same position, but she seemed oppressed by a
+nightmare, for big tears rolled down her cheeks and sighs rent her
+breast.</p>
+
+<p>La Roulante went to the side of the bed.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, my child," she said, endeavoring to soften her harsh voice, "how
+are you to-night? Do you want anything?"</p>
+
+<p>Francine's eyelids fluttered, and then slowly opened. A look of terrible
+horror came on her face as she beheld this most repulsive creature.</p>
+
+<p>"Where am I?" faintly ejaculated the poor child.</p>
+
+<p>"You are with good friends, who are anxious to make you happy."</p>
+
+<p>Francine frowned. She was evidently trying to remember what had taken
+place.</p>
+
+<p>La Roulante grew bolder. She seated herself on the foot of the bed.</p>
+
+<p>"Virtue is a very good thing," she said, "but it neither feeds you nor
+clothes you. And it is rather a hard thing to starve and be cold when
+you are young, and then die in a hospital when you grow old. If a girl
+only realized this, she would never refuse what a nice young fellow
+offered!"</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">[Pg 231]</a></span></p><p>Francine started up with a burning face.</p>
+
+<p>"What are you saying?" she cried. "But I do not wish to understand.
+Where am I?" She wrung her hands. "I remember now! I was gagged and
+carried away. I am not an ignorant child&mdash;I know too well the wickedness
+of this world, and I understand all. A villain, whose name my lips shall
+never pronounce, has placed me in this woman's house." Francine grasped
+La Roulante's arm. "Move aside," she said, "let me pass!"</p>
+
+<p>La Roulante now stood in front of the door.</p>
+
+<p>"Listen to me," said Francine. "I will forgive you if you let me go now.
+If you refuse, I will call for aid, and I will denounce you to the
+police!"</p>
+
+<p>"It is too late, little girl, too late! Your lover was here with you all
+night!"</p>
+
+<p>Francine uttered a terrific shriek and rushed to the window. She threw
+it open, and leaning out, cried:</p>
+
+<p>"Help! Help!"</p>
+
+<p>La Roulante immediately seized her and pulled her back. Robeccal ran in.
+The girl struggled until, breathless and exhausted, she was thrown on
+the floor.</p>
+
+<p>"Give me that bottle!" said La Roulante.</p>
+
+<p>Robeccal understood, as did poor Francine, who resolutely closed her
+lips. The man brutally pried them open with his fingers, while the woman
+poured a teaspoonful down the girl's throat, who in another moment lay
+unconscious.</p>
+
+<p>Then La Roulante and Robeccal put the room in order, and going out,
+closed the door and returned to their wine below. They began to play
+cards, while <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232">[Pg 232]</a></span>waiting for the arrival of Frederic, from whom they had
+received the note.</p>
+
+<p>The weather was still stormy, and about six o'clock Frederic, wrapped in
+a cloak, arrived. As soon as he rapped on the door the giantess opened
+it, but barred all passage.</p>
+
+<p>"Have you the money?" she asked.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, yes&mdash;give me the key!"</p>
+
+<p>Talizac threw down a pocketbook, and the giantess, with most exaggerated
+respect, pointed to the stairs.</p>
+
+<p>As soon as Talizac had left the lower floor, she turned to Robeccal.</p>
+
+<p>"And now we will make ourselves scarce!"</p>
+
+<p>Hardly had the door closed on their retreating forms than an angry cry
+rang through the house. Talizac rushed from Francine's room. The girl
+had disappeared.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">[Pg 233]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXII" id="CHAPTER_XXXII"></a>CHAPTER XXXII.</h2>
+
+<h3>SURPRISES.</h3>
+
+
+<p>By what miracle had Francine vanished? How could she with her frail
+strength escape from that room, situated as we have said on the second
+floor of this house, and from the garden surrounded on all sides by
+walls which no man could climb.</p>
+
+<p>When these wretches gave Francine the narcotic, they in their eagerness
+gave her too much, and the girl was utterly prostrated. She lay for an
+hour motionless while her jailers played cards and drank; and then her
+pulse began to flutter and nervous contractions shook her frail form,
+still she did not open her eyes. Her brain was over-excited. Suddenly
+she started up with eyes wide open, but eyes that saw not. She moved
+slowly and noiselessly. Did she reason? Not in the least. Instinct was
+her only guide.</p>
+
+<p>Have you ever when half asleep heard the same words repeated over and
+over again? In Francine's brain the words "too late! too late!" were
+repeated with the regularity of a pendulum. The old woman had struck a
+cruel blow. The girl had believed for a few moments that she was
+dishonored and this thought now haunted her vaguely. She placed her feet
+on the floor, then glided toward the door. She tried it and found it
+locked. She turned to the window; she <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">[Pg 234]</a></span>slowly and gently opened the
+blinds, and then stepped upon the cornice outside; then she feels her
+way down to another projection where she places one foot and then the
+other until she finds herself on the ground. She then glides on until
+she reaches the wall.</p>
+
+<p>Ah! child, it is useless for you to try! Not so! The clinging vines form
+a rope-ladder for her light weight. She reaches the top of the wall, and
+easily descends on the other side. She is saved! But she does not know
+this, and her pale lips murmur,</p>
+
+<p>"Too late! Too late!"</p>
+
+<p>Where is she going? Ah! she knows not. She feels no fatigue, but goes on
+and on. She has crossed the outer Boulevard, and moves swiftly on
+through the now crowded streets, where no one seems to notice her
+pallor. The fog is so thick that she is but dimly seen. She reaches the
+bridge over the Saint Martin Canal; here she stops, and leaning over the
+parapet seems to contemplate the dark water running below. While she
+stands there, we will see what is taking place in the house she has
+left.</p>
+
+<p>Robeccal and La Roulante when they left the house, went to take the
+diligence in the Rue Saint Denis. Their plans had been long made; they
+meant to return to Robeccal's former home. They were groping their way
+through the fog, when suddenly Robeccal was lifted from the ground, and
+then flung some distance, while a voice shouted:</p>
+
+<p>"Scoundrel! I have you at last!"</p>
+
+<p>At the same moment, an iron grasp nailed the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235">[Pg 235]</a></span>giantess to the spot where
+she stood. The two wretches gasped out the names:</p>
+
+<p>"Fanfar! Bobichel!"</p>
+
+<p>"Where is Francine?" said Fanfar, sternly.</p>
+
+<p>La Roulante laughed, and would not reply.</p>
+
+<p>"Speak!" said Fanfar. "I know the whole story. Where is that girl?"</p>
+
+<p>La Roulante knew that Fanfar was not to be trifled with, and after all
+why should she not now tell? She wanted to be free, that she and
+Robeccal might go far away.</p>
+
+<p>"Take your hand away, and I will tell you."</p>
+
+<p>"The truth, you understand, and make haste."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, the girl is not far away."</p>
+
+<p>"Alone?"</p>
+
+<p>"I do not know."</p>
+
+<p>"Show me the house."</p>
+
+<p>"It is easy enough to find."</p>
+
+<p>"Show me the way."</p>
+
+<p>"No, it was not in the bargain."</p>
+
+<p>"Show me the way."</p>
+
+<p>Bobichel looked upon this delay as worthy of being celebrated, by
+lifting Robeccal by the skin of his neck as he would have lifted a cat.</p>
+
+<p>These people now took their way to the deserted house.</p>
+
+<p>La Roulante uttered a cry as they reached the house, for the door was
+open. She ran into the house, and flew toward the stairs. Fanfar was
+behind her. She beheld the window open.</p>
+
+<p>"Look!" she cried, "he has taken her away!"</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236">[Pg 236]</a></span></p><p>"Of whom do you speak?"</p>
+
+<p>"Of the Vicomte de Talizac."</p>
+
+<p>"Talizac!" exclaimed Fanfar, "would that I could kill that man!"</p>
+
+<p>The house was searched, and found entirely deserted.</p>
+
+<p>A folded paper lay on the table in the lower room. She snatched it up.
+It contained only these words from Talizac:</p>
+
+<p>"You have infamously swindled me. You have taken the girl away, but I
+shall find her and be even with you."</p>
+
+<p>"The man lies!" yelled the woman.</p>
+
+<p>Fanfar was nearly stunned. He now had not the smallest clue to Francine.</p>
+
+<p>"Bobichel," he said, sadly. "Fate is against us. Come with me."</p>
+
+<p>"But what am I to do with him?" asked Bobichel, pointing to Robeccal,
+"Ah! I have it."</p>
+
+<p>He seized a rope and bound Robeccal firmly, and then bundled him into a
+closet, which he locked and put the key into his pocket. They drove La
+Roulante out of the house, and locked that door also, and then hurried
+back to the city.</p>
+
+<p>La Roulante when she was thus left hesitated a moment.</p>
+
+<p>"No," she said, "if I let him out I shall have to divide the money."</p>
+
+<p>And without more thought of Robeccal she too went away.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237">[Pg 237]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXIII" id="CHAPTER_XXXIII"></a>CHAPTER XXXIII.</h2>
+
+<h3>FACE TO FACE.</h3>
+
+
+<p>The h&ocirc;tel of the Marquis de Fongereues was ablaze with lights. Magdalena
+having determined that her son's triumph should be dazzling, invitations
+had been sent to every one of distinction. For a long time rumors had
+been in circulation adverse to the Fongereues family, and the gay crowd,
+always ready to desert a falling house, had shown great coolness to them
+all. But as soon as the favors shown by the king became known at the
+clubs, the family were quickly reinstated in public opinion.</p>
+
+<p>About nine o'clock carriages began to roll through the streets near the
+h&ocirc;tel, the doors of which were thrown wide open to welcome the coming
+guests, who bore the oldest and noblest names of France.</p>
+
+<p>Fongereues, under an air of great dignity, concealed the joy and pride
+that swelled his heart. Magdalena was superb in her matronly beauty and
+her diamonds. Talizac was excessively pale, his worn face telling the
+story of his excesses and the excitement of the previous night.
+Francine's flight, which he believed to have been arranged by the man
+and woman whom he had employed as his tools, had driven him nearly mad
+with rage, from which he had not yet recovered.</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly a murmur of admiration ran around the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238">[Pg 238]</a></span>room. Mademoiselle de
+Salves had just come in. Her mother had with difficulty risen from her
+sick bed to witness the triumph of her child.</p>
+
+<p>Ir&egrave;ne was certainly very beautiful, and her toilette was characterized
+by exquisite simplicity. But her face was sad, and the brilliancy of her
+eyes was due to fever. Why had she come? Why had she not resisted the
+wishes of her mother? A great change had come over the girl. All her
+former energy and innumerable caprices had given way to a charming
+timidity. She was all the time conscious that she concealed a secret in
+her heart, and that since a certain memorable day she thought of but one
+person. Her vanity, her patrician pride, all revolted against this
+truth. The name she repeated over and over again, was that of Fanfar.
+Whenever she closed her eyes she saw him, haughty and courageous,
+risking his life to save that of his adopted father. She heard his rich
+voice and the words he uttered:</p>
+
+<p>"Make yourself beloved."</p>
+
+<p>She struggled with all her power against this infatuation, and had come
+to Paris. There she saw him again, no longer in his theatrical costume,
+but dressed like the young men she met in society. He had saved her from
+being killed by the heavy timber. He had held her a minute in his arms,
+and she had felt his heart beat against her own. A hundred times since
+then she had seen him ride past the house, and over and over again she
+knew that he had thrown flowers over the wall. With trembling joy she
+had carried these flowers to the privacy of her own rooms. She
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239">[Pg 239]</a></span>questioned them, but they were mute and kept the secret that Fanfar had
+undoubtedly confided to them.</p>
+
+<p>Who was this Fanfar? Ir&egrave;ne's imagination ran riot. She heard him called
+a conspirator whom the police watched. He belonged to the party who
+aimed at the overthrowal of the royal power. How did one so lowly
+venture to menace one so high? Ir&egrave;ne meditated and studied; her youthful
+mind awoke to great truths, and she realized that men like Fanfar were
+working for a great cause, and her soul was filled with noble wrath
+against those persons who were ruining and dishonoring France. How
+solitary she felt herself! How ignorant! How she longed to interrogate
+Fanfar on these great subjects. But she well knew that this was an
+impossible dream. He was far away from her, and love had made her timid.
+She ceased to struggle, but all the time asked herself why he did not
+come to save her from the fate hourly drawing nearer. She knew that her
+mother had promised her hand to the Vicomte de Talizac, and she knew
+that if she made any resistance it would break her mother's heart; but
+as the hour drew near when her sacrifice was to be consummated, Ir&egrave;ne
+felt herself very weak.</p>
+
+<p>She entered the Fongereues salon in a state of suppressed excitement,
+very pale but very beautiful. The Marquis met her and drew her arm
+through his. This marriage was his salvation. He, too, thought of Fanfar
+with a certain pity, for he knew that this mountebank, as he scornfully
+called him, was the only man who had the right to call himself the
+Marquis de Fongereues.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240">[Pg 240]</a></span></p><p>Ir&egrave;ne's arrival was the signal for the opening of the ball. The
+orchestra began to play a waltz. Then came a sudden silence. A
+magnificent person entered, an officer of the Royal Guard, in his white
+and gold uniform. He was received by the Marquis de Fongereues.</p>
+
+<p>"Marquis," he said, "I come in the name of the king."</p>
+
+<p>Every one listened with bated breath. Fongereues was radiant.</p>
+
+<p>"Desirous of recompensing services rendered to the holy cause of
+monarchy, His Majesty has condescended to lend a favorable ear to
+certain applications, and, Monsieur, I am the bearer of the commission
+which confers on your son the rank of lieutenant in the King's Guards."</p>
+
+<p>Magdalena laid her hand on Frederic's shoulder.</p>
+
+<p>"Talizac," she said, "remember that your life and the lives of the
+Fongereues belong to the king."</p>
+
+<p>Talizac bowed low, and as he turned he gave Ir&egrave;ne a look of triumph.
+She, poor girl, knew that her fate was sealed.</p>
+
+<p>"How happy you will be!" whispered her mother, tenderly.</p>
+
+<p>"Happy!" repeated Ir&egrave;ne, drearily.</p>
+
+<p>But this was not all. The Royal Envoy had not completed his mission. La
+Vicomte de Talizac was made a Chevalier de Saint-Louis.</p>
+
+<p>"<i>Vive le Roi!</i>" cried the women, gayly.</p>
+
+<p>Monsieur de Montferrand turned to his son Arthur. "You see, sir," he
+said, in a severe tone, "how our <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_241" id="Page_241">[Pg 241]</a></span>King, a worthy son of Henri IV.,
+rewards those whom he finds worthy of his protection."</p>
+
+<p>Arthur de Montferrand had, in obedience to his father's wishes,
+accompanied him to this entertainment. The two young men exchanged a few
+words of feigned cordiality, but Arthur felt the most profound contempt
+for the Vicomte; while the image of Francine in the power of those
+scoundrels haunted him perpetually.</p>
+
+<p>Fernando did not make his appearance, and Arthur dared not talk to any
+one else of this miserable affair in which he had been engaged. He
+listened with a shudder to the congratulations and compliments showered
+upon the Vicomte, who finally had the audacity to go up to Arthur and
+demand his felicitations.</p>
+
+<p>Arthur started, and said low in his ear, "I will congratulate you, sir,
+when the mark upon your cheek, which I imprinted there, is no longer to
+be seen."</p>
+
+<p>Talizac uttered an exclamation, but Monsieur de Montferrand, suspecting
+what was going on, stepped forward.</p>
+
+<p>"Arthur," he said sternly, "apologize to the Vicomte for your rash
+words, or leave this house!"</p>
+
+<p>Arthur looked reproachfully at his father, and moved toward the door. At
+the same moment a great tumult was heard in the hall.</p>
+
+<p>"What can it be?" said De Fongereues, nervously.</p>
+
+<p>A door was flung open, servants were thrust aside, and a man bearing the
+inanimate form of a young girl, entered the ball-room.</p>
+
+<p>"Fanfar!" cried Arthur de Montferrand. It was, indeed, Fanfar.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_242" id="Page_242">[Pg 242]</a></span></p><p>Standing in the centre of the ball-room, for no man ventured to oppose
+his progress, he addressed himself to the crowd.</p>
+
+<p>"Gentlemen," he said, "behold the body of the unhappy girl whom the
+Vicomte de Talizac has murdered!"</p>
+
+<p>There was a moment of silence, then the women screamed and fled, while
+the men turned pale and looked at each other.</p>
+
+<p>Talizac caught at the mantel for support. Fongereues had heard Arthur
+utter the name of Fanfar, and shuddered at the ill-omen.</p>
+
+<p>From Francine's drenched garments water was dripping upon the floor, and
+the pale face rested on Fanfar's shoulder.</p>
+
+<p>The Marquis hastened forward. "Who is this man? What is he doing here?"
+he cried.</p>
+
+<p>"Monsieur," said Fanfar, "a crime has been committed, the guilty must be
+punished, and this guilt is upon your son's head. You, gentlemen, seem
+to think that to your rank everything is permitted. Behold a young girl
+who, pure and industrious, toiled for her daily bread. This Vicomte de
+Talizac abducted her with the assistance of his paid emissaries. The
+poor creature, driven to despair, committed suicide. This is what your
+son has done, Marquis! Can you conceive of a more cowardly or infamous
+act?"</p>
+
+<p>And Fanfar, with head erect and lightning in his eyes, looked with
+contempt on the people about him.</p>
+
+<p>Arthur rushed to his side. "Dead!" he cried, "is she dead?"</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_243" id="Page_243">[Pg 243]</a></span></p><p>Fanfar gently laid Francine upon the floor. "Is there no one among all
+these ladies who will see if this girl lives? Beats there not one heart
+under all this silk and velvet?"</p>
+
+<p>A woman advanced and knelt by the side of Francine. It was Ir&egrave;ne de
+Salves.</p>
+
+<p>"What does this senseless comedy mean?" asked the Marquis de Fongereues,
+angrily.</p>
+
+<p>"It is no comedy, it is a horrible tragedy," answered Fanfar, coldly.
+"Ask what explanations you please from your son; he must answer you. See
+how he trembles; ask him if what I have said is not true?"</p>
+
+<p>Talizac made a violent effort, and turning to his father, said, "This
+man lies!"</p>
+
+<p>"And I, sir, swear that he speaks the truth!" cried Arthur de
+Montferrand. "Ah! Monsieur de Talizac, you forget too quickly; but my
+memory recalls the fact that the marks now on your face were imprinted
+yesterday by my hand, when you attacked me with a knife, because I
+endeavored to prevent you from committing this crime!"</p>
+
+<p>"Liar!" shouted Talizac. Then turning to the crowd of spectators:
+"Gentlemen," he said, "I am the victim of a most monstrous calumny, and
+I call on you to treat this scoundrel with his trumped-up tale as he
+deserves!"</p>
+
+<p>Not one moved. Fanfar, with folded arms, stood looking at them.</p>
+
+<p>"She lives!" cried Ir&egrave;ne. "She breathes! Mother, dear mother, permit
+this girl to be carried to our home. <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_244" id="Page_244">[Pg 244]</a></span>I will bring her back to life; you
+will give me permission?" she asked, turning to Fanfar.</p>
+
+<p>"She is my sister!" said Fanfar.</p>
+
+<p>Ir&egrave;ne imprinted a kiss on Francine's brow. This was her reply to
+Fanfar's words.</p>
+
+<p>Talizac ran to the door of the salon and summoned the lacqueys. "Here,
+take this man away!"</p>
+
+<p>And, as they crowded in, Fanfar said: "Who dares lay a hand on me?"</p>
+
+<p>"I do!" answered a voice behind him, as a hand was laid on his shoulder.
+"In the name of the king, I arrest you!"</p>
+
+<p>The man who uttered these words wore a white scarf, fringed with gold.
+Soldiers filled every doorway.</p>
+
+<p>"Monsieur," said the Magistrate, to Fongereues, "a man has just been
+found endeavoring to conceal himself in the apartments of His Majesty.
+He had arms concealed about his person, and did not hesitate to confess
+that he came with the intention of killing the king."</p>
+
+<p>A cry of horror ran around the room. Fongereues was overjoyed. Cyprien
+had kept his word.</p>
+
+<p>"And this man," continued the Magistrate, "when summoned to name his
+accomplices, said that he obeyed the instructions of a secret society,
+of which this Fanfar is the chief."</p>
+
+<p>"An infamous falsehood!" exclaimed Fanfar.</p>
+
+<p>"An assassin! never!" murmured Ir&egrave;ne, as she rose from her knees,
+hastily.</p>
+
+<p>Arthur held her back. He had divined her secret. "Do not betray
+yourself," he whispered, "rely on me."</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_245" id="Page_245">[Pg 245]</a></span></p><p>Fanfar looked around. Escape was impossible. He turned to Ir&egrave;ne. "Save
+my sister!" he said to her.</p>
+
+<p>She bowed assent. Then Fanfar spoke to the Magistrate. "This unfounded
+accusation will recoil on the heads of my calumniators. I have been
+against the monarchy, but I have had no hand in any plot with murder as
+its object. I am at your service, gentlemen!"</p>
+
+<p>Arthur whispered in the ear of de Talizac:</p>
+
+<p>"To-morrow, if you are not a coward, I shall expect you!"</p>
+
+<p>"And I will kill you!" answered the Vicomte.</p>
+
+<p>In another hour the guests had left the H&ocirc;tel de Fongereues.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_246" id="Page_246">[Pg 246]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXIV" id="CHAPTER_XXXIV"></a>CHAPTER XXXIV.</h2>
+
+<h3>LEIGOUTTE.</h3>
+
+
+<p>The kind reader who has followed thus far, has not forgotten a certain
+little village among the Vosges mountains, where in January, 1814, brave
+peasants fought and died in the defence of their country.</p>
+
+<p>When Simon left Leigoutte with Sergeant Michel, he had no idea that the
+fury of the invaders would lead them to commit the crime of killing
+women and children, and to burn their homes. The Cossacks and the
+emigr&eacute;s avenged themselves on French flesh and blood, and French homes
+and firesides.</p>
+
+<p>While the Russians burned the cottage where Fran&ccedil;oise and the children
+had taken shelter, Talizac, in order to ensure his possession of the
+title and Fongereues estates, set fire to the inn which was Simon's
+home. The emigr&eacute;s took fiendish delight in destroying the school-room.
+Was it not there that the Republicans talked of duty and their country
+to the children? And when this band of royal thieves had passed,
+desolation settled down upon the valley.</p>
+
+<p>The king was proclaimed at the Tuileries, and lying on his bed
+embroidered with purple <i>fleur de lis</i>, never condescended to think of
+the villages in the East that had welcomed the invaders with powder and
+shot.</p>
+
+<p>By degrees Leigoutte, like its neighbors, began to <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_247" id="Page_247">[Pg 247]</a></span>hold up its head
+once more, and the few survivors agreed to take care of the women and
+children who had been left without protectors. The oldest among them
+remembered Simon's teachings, and repeated them to their children.</p>
+
+<p>One day they experienced a great surprise. It became known that a
+stranger had purchased the land on which had formerly stood the inn and
+the school of Simon Foug&egrave;re. Every one wondered what the old man, who
+seemed to be an intendant, meant to do with this place, about which hung
+so many sad legends. Then came an architect, who employed the workmen in
+the village. They were paid well and promptly. The older inhabitants
+were consulted as to the plan of the old inn and the school.</p>
+
+<p>When wonder had passed, the villagers were amazed to find the inn had
+been built exactly like the old one that had been burned by the emigr&eacute;s.
+Yes, there was the large, well-lighted room where Fran&ccedil;oise, with her
+little girl in her arms, had cordially welcomed the travelers, while
+little Jacques flew about with bright cheeks and brighter eyes. The
+sign, too, was just the same as the old one. The only difference was
+that the tri-colored flag did not wave in the morning breeze. The new
+proprietor was named Pierre Labarre. Who was he? No one knew. He had a
+benevolent face, and he liked to talk of Simon Foug&egrave;re, and made the
+villagers tell him the story of his death over and over again. Sometimes
+he was seen to listen with tears in his eyes.</p>
+
+<p>"He knew him, that's sure!" said the peasants.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_248" id="Page_248">[Pg 248]</a></span></p><p>He selected a man and his wife to keep the inn. They had two children, a
+boy and a girl. The girl was named Francine. This completed the
+resemblance to the past. As a schoolmaster, Pierre appointed an old
+soldier, who was intelligent and honest.</p>
+
+<p>Once more Leigoutte began to take heart. Pierre Labarre spent several
+days each year in the village, and yet the good people knew nothing of
+him more than his name. Pierre Labarre was not the real benefactor, who
+slept in his tomb, but when dying he had said to his old servant:</p>
+
+<p>"I have been unfaithful to my duty toward Simon. I have been cowardly
+toward him. I have a large amount for my grandchildren, where, you alone
+will know. Seek these children, and make them rich. If Fate be against
+us, if you cannot find these children, consecrate this fortune to making
+the name of Simon beloved. Go to the poor village of Leigoutte, and let
+those who loved him, that is, all who knew him, be the heirs of that son
+whom the Marquis de Fongereues adored in his heart."</p>
+
+<p>For many years he sought in vain for the smallest clue, but one day,
+after much discouragement, a new hope sprang to life in his heart. It
+was when the so-called Marquis de Fongereues came to demand at his hands
+the secret entrusted to the old man by his master. The very violence of
+the two men on that day proved that Simon's son was living. Had he been
+dead, the heirs of the Fongereues would have applied to the courts.</p>
+
+<p>Then Pierre Labarre resumed his search, and an old <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_249" id="Page_249">[Pg 249]</a></span>man was continually
+seen on all the highways and by-ways of France, entering the humblest
+cottages and asking, in tremulous tones:</p>
+
+<p>"Do you remember? It was in 1814."</p>
+
+<p>But this was ten years ago. No one had seen two children flying for
+their lives. How many hopes were based upon a word, and how many
+disappointments followed!</p>
+
+<p>Finally, he determined to act on the last words of his dying master, and
+he went to Leigoutte. It was an idea of his own to restore to Leigoutte
+its old look, the look it had one day long before when Simon Foug&egrave;re
+gave him a seat at his fireside, and Jacques looked at the stranger with
+his big, earnest eyes, while Cinette ran around the room.</p>
+
+<p>The evening of which we write, this old servant of an emigr&eacute; sat under
+the trees opposite the school-room. He had gathered the village children
+about him. Night was coming on, but the spring air was soft and sweet.
+He spoke in a low voice, for the authorities of the village might have
+considered his words as somewhat of an incendiary nature. He said,
+softly:</p>
+
+<p>"In other days, in Simon Foug&egrave;re's school, all the children said, 'Vive
+la France! Vive la Republique!'"</p>
+
+<p>And the little children repeated these words: "Vive la France! Vive la
+Republique!"</p>
+
+<p>At this moment a strange scene took place on the Square. Two shadows,
+dimly seen in the twilight, were kneeling before the inn. No one had
+seen them approach. Pierre Labarre was the first to notice them, and he
+felt a quick contraction of the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_250" id="Page_250">[Pg 250]</a></span>heart that heralded some unlooked-for
+event. He rose quickly, and signed to the children to keep perfectly
+still. He nearly reached the two unknown without their hearing him. He
+saw that one was endeavoring to raise the other, who seemed to be
+infirm. She extended her hand to the inn, and seemed to be saying
+something, and then the two slowly mounted the steps of the inn.</p>
+
+<p>Pierre, who was very near them, heard a sob. Who could they be? Pierre
+asked himself. The two strangers were now in the large room, where
+nothing seemed changed since the day that the wounded soldier leaned
+against the wall, exhausted by suffering and fatigue. There was the huge
+chimney, and there the shining tables.</p>
+
+<p>The infirm woman now walks unaided. She goes straight to the fireplace,
+and seats herself in a chair. She looks at the door eagerly and
+expectantly.</p>
+
+<p>Labarre again asked himself who this woman was, and what frightful
+accident had so injured her. Suddenly, while Labarre was watching her,
+the woman smiled.</p>
+
+<p>"Ah! you have come, Simon!" she said with a smile, as if speaking to
+some one who had just come in. "The children are waiting for you, and
+the soup is ready. Jacques has been good, but you must talk to
+Cinette&mdash;she is a perfect little fiend, sometimes!"</p>
+
+<p>Labarre, with his heart in his mouth, clutched at the wall to prevent
+himself from falling.</p>
+
+<p>"Come! Cinette&mdash;come; you must not be naughty!"</p>
+
+<p>It was plain to Labarre who this person was&mdash;he <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_251" id="Page_251">[Pg 251]</a></span>had heard her voice
+before. But this girl&mdash;who was she?</p>
+
+<p>The old man now entered the room. The girl saw him, and said,
+apologetically:</p>
+
+<p>"Pray, do not scold us&mdash;we mean no harm."</p>
+
+<p>"Whoever asks hospitality at this door receives it," answered Labarre.
+"But tell who you both are."</p>
+
+<p>Caillette, for it was she, laid her finger on her lips and whispered
+low:</p>
+
+<p>"She is mad!"</p>
+
+<p>Tears came to the old man's eyes.</p>
+
+<p>"I beg of you," he asked again, "to tell me who this woman is."</p>
+
+<p>"A poor, sick creature, who was once very happy. She has lost her
+husband and her children, and met with some terrible accident beside."</p>
+
+<p>"But her name?"</p>
+
+<p>"I have not the smallest idea. Cinette always calls her mamma."</p>
+
+<p>"Cinette! Who bears that name?"</p>
+
+<p>"A good little girl in Paris, who earns her bread by singing in the
+streets. It now seems that she is the sister of Fanfar. It is a very
+strange sorrow, one fall of sorrow!"</p>
+
+<p>"And Fanfar&mdash;whom do you call Fanfar?" asked the old man, with a
+troubled face.</p>
+
+<p>Caillette started. She remembered that her love had been disdained, but
+she was kind-hearted, of the stuff of which martyrs are made.</p>
+
+<p>"Fanfar was a foundling. He is now a young man both good and handsome."</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_252" id="Page_252">[Pg 252]</a></span></p><p>"Where have I heard that name?" Labarre said to himself.</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly the woman seated in the chair looked up.</p>
+
+<p>"Excuse the simplicity of the arrangements&mdash;the inn does as well as
+possible."</p>
+
+<p>"Fran&ccedil;oise Foug&egrave;re!" he cried.</p>
+
+<p>Fran&ccedil;oise started up, as if sustained by supernatural strength.</p>
+
+<p>"Who calls me?" she cried. "Who is it that speaks my name?"</p>
+
+<p>"Fran&ccedil;oise, do you remember Simon, Jacques, Cinette?"</p>
+
+<p>"My children? Yes, yes&mdash;I remember them. Where is it that I have just
+seen them? Oh! yes&mdash;I remember. I was all alone. Cinette's little bed
+was empty, and then the door opened and Jacques came!"</p>
+
+<p>"Is he alive?" cried Labarre.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," answered Caillette. "They knew each other at once."</p>
+
+<p>"But where is Francine?"</p>
+
+<p>"She has been abducted by the Vicomte de Talizac."</p>
+
+<p>"Talizac!"</p>
+
+<p>Labarre caught at a chair for support. Fran&ccedil;oise heard these words.</p>
+
+<p>"Talizac! Oh! the base, cruel man. Quick! we cannot stay here. I must
+save Francine and Jacques. Oh! my box&mdash;where is my box?"</p>
+
+<p>My readers must now learn how Fran&ccedil;oise and Caillette found themselves
+at Leigoutte. They will remember that just as Fanfar recognized in the
+poor, sick woman the mother whose loss he had so deeply <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_253" id="Page_253">[Pg 253]</a></span>deplored, and
+in Francine the worshipped little sister whose agonized cries he had
+heard in the subterranean passages among the Vosges, all clue was lost,
+for Bobichel vanished, and with him Caillette.</p>
+
+<p>And Gudel's daughter, who loved Fanfar with a love that was without
+hope, said to him:</p>
+
+<p>"She is your mother. Will you allow me to take care of her?"</p>
+
+<p>Fanfar looked at Caillette with loving, grateful eyes, and then hastened
+away with Bobichel and Gudel.</p>
+
+<p>Then Caillette was left alone with the sick woman, who began to cry and
+sob. Her mind had been so long torpid that now this shock seemed to have
+swept away the last vestige of her intelligence. But Caillette was good
+and patient, and finally the sick woman slept. Caillette watched her and
+waited through the twilight, and at last, holding the hand of her charge
+in hers, she too fell asleep.</p>
+
+<p>When the girl opened her eyes it was daybreak, and the bed was empty.
+Yes, Fanfar's mother, whom she had promised to guard, had vanished. She
+ran into the next room. No one was there, and the door was open.</p>
+
+<p>Caillette ran to the concierge. "Where is she?" she cried.</p>
+
+<p>"Do you mean the old woman? Oh! she went away before light."</p>
+
+<p>"Impossible! She cannot walk."</p>
+
+<p>"I was astonished myself, but my wife said to me, who is that coming
+down stairs? I looked, and I saw a ghost&mdash;not a pretty one either,
+begging your pardon. <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_254" id="Page_254">[Pg 254]</a></span>It was the paralytic, the old woman who had never
+walked a step all the while that the Marquise took care of her.</p>
+
+<p>"'Where are you going?' I said to her.</p>
+
+<p>"'To save Jacques.'"</p>
+
+<p>"Jacques is her son, go on, quick," interrupted Caillette.</p>
+
+<p>"'But you can't save any one,' I then said. This was not kind, Miss, but
+I was so astonished. She did not seem to mind it though, for she began
+to talk about a box, and told me to open the door. I had no right to
+disobey, you know."</p>
+
+<p>"And she went away?" cried Caillette.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, and quick enough, too."</p>
+
+<p>Caillette did not wait to hear more. She flew down the stairs also.</p>
+
+<p>It was seven o'clock in the morning. Caillette did not dare to find
+Jacques, and tell him she had been faithless to her trust. No, she must
+find Fran&ccedil;oise herself. She asked questions of all she met, and at last
+she had a ray of light. An old rag picker told her that he had seen a
+woman answering to the description given by Caillette. She at once
+started in the direction he pointed out; it was the road to Germany she
+took. She sold a small gold locket, which held a bit of ribbon from a
+sash Fanfar had once given her. She kept the ribbon, and received
+several crowns for the locket. She walked all day, finally certain that
+Fran&ccedil;oise was not far in advance. It was not until the morning of the
+second day that the girl was rewarded <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_255" id="Page_255">[Pg 255]</a></span>by seeing Fran&ccedil;oise at the door
+of an inn. Caillette rushed forward.</p>
+
+<p>"Mother!" she cried.</p>
+
+<p>"Ah! you know her?" said the innkeeper. "She is very strange."</p>
+
+<p>"What did she say to you?"</p>
+
+<p>"She asked for bread, and ate it without a word. Then, just as she saw
+you, she asked me where some village was. I never heard the name
+before."</p>
+
+<p>The old woman now came to meet Caillette.</p>
+
+<p>"Leigoutte!" she said. "Leigoutte!"</p>
+
+<p>"Leigoutte!" repeated Caillette, "that is Fanfar's village."</p>
+
+<p>The old woman shook her head, she did not know the name.</p>
+
+<p>"I mean Leigoutte is where Jacques came from."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes&mdash;yes&mdash;Jacques. I must save Jacques and the box!"</p>
+
+<p>What was going on in the impaired mind of Fran&ccedil;oise? Fanfar's sudden
+appearance had carried her memory back to the last interview she had
+with Simon, when, our readers will remember, he had given his wife the
+papers that proved his birth and that of Jacques. And now Fran&ccedil;oise had
+but one idea, to return to Leigoutte. In vain did Caillette urge her to
+return to Paris, and the girl had promised Fanfar not to leave his
+mother. She therefore went on toward Germany with her. Fortunately, a
+wagoner took pity on these two women, and took them up. In this way they
+reached Leigoutte. Fran&ccedil;oise was silent, except a few low words that she
+muttered under <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_256" id="Page_256">[Pg 256]</a></span>her breath at long intervals. Caillette thought with
+despair of Fanfar, and his agony at his mother's disappearance.</p>
+
+<p>Alas! poor girl, she did not know that the night when she and Fran&ccedil;oise
+entered the inn at Leigoutte, Fanfar, alone in his prison, thought of
+his mother whom he had scarcely seen, and of the sister whom he had held
+in his arms. Ah! it was a bitter trial for the strong, faithful heart.</p>
+
+<p>Caillette and Pierre Labarre watched Fran&ccedil;oise, when finally she arose
+from her chair, and went toward the door. On the threshold she seemed to
+hesitate. She thrust back her gray hair, and pressed her hand to her
+brow. Then, as if she suddenly remembered something, she turned and went
+toward the door in the back of the house, Caillette and Pierre following
+her every step she took. She went out into the garden, and up a winding
+path to the hill, which she began to climb with panting breath.</p>
+
+<p>"Ah! she is going to the little farm of Lasv&egrave;ne which was burned," said
+Pierre to himself.</p>
+
+<p>Then, all the time watching Fran&ccedil;oise, he began to question Caillette.</p>
+
+<p>What motive had Fran&ccedil;oise in these persistent wanderings? Was it merely
+the whim of a mad woman or had she some fixed design?</p>
+
+<p>Fran&ccedil;oise walked on. Sometimes she stopped short, and called Jacques,
+then Cinette. Labarre asked himself if it were not his duty to stop this
+poor woman, but a secret instinct bade him watch her to the end.</p>
+
+<p>An hour elapsed, but Fran&ccedil;oise seemed to feel no <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_257" id="Page_257">[Pg 257]</a></span>fatigue. At the
+cross-roads she did not hesitate. Finally they reached the Gorge
+d'Outremont. In the fast gathering darkness, the place was horrible and
+gloomy. As in a former description we have said, the mountain seemed at
+this gorge to have been cleft in twain by a gigantic hatchet.</p>
+
+<p>At this moment, the clouds parted, and a pale young moon looked down on
+the landscape.</p>
+
+<p>Fran&ccedil;oise stopped short, Pierre well knew why. The little cottage of old
+Lasv&egrave;ne had vanished, and the poor woman was bewildered. Labarre went to
+her, and took her hand. He knew where the foundations of the cottage
+were, and convinced that this was why she had come, he led her to the
+ruins. She laughed in a childish way.</p>
+
+<p>"Burned? Ah! yes;" she repeated the cry of the Cossacks. "Death to the
+French!" And then she began to run.</p>
+
+<p>It was an outbreak of madness. Caillette and Pierre uttered cries of
+fright.</p>
+
+<p>The mystery of such a strange occurrence may never be solved, but
+Fran&ccedil;oise threw herself on the ground in a corner where the little
+garden had stood, and began to dig furiously in the earth. Presently,
+she screamed:</p>
+
+<p>"The box! The box! Jacques is not my son; Cinette is the Marquise de
+Fongereues. Jacques&mdash;Fanfar is Vicomte de Talizac!" And she fell
+unconscious into the arms of Labarre.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_258" id="Page_258">[Pg 258]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXV" id="CHAPTER_XXXV"></a>CHAPTER XXXV.</h2>
+
+<h3>THE NEST.</h3>
+
+
+<p>Two white beds stood near each other. Muslin curtains tied with blue
+ribbons covered the windows with billowy folds. Among the pillows of one
+of the beds lay a beautiful face, and a young girl at her side held her
+frail hands.</p>
+
+<p>This chamber was that of Ir&egrave;ne de Salves, and very unlike it was to the
+chamber of the spoiled child in the Ch&acirc;teau des Vosges. There she had
+created a mixture of all colors&mdash;violent reds and yellows. Now
+everything was delicate and calm. The sweet face among the pillows was
+Francine's. The two young girls were like sisters. Ir&egrave;ne felt that to
+love, protect, and care for Francine, was to love Fanfar. The shock
+Francine had experienced was terrible; she hardly knew what had taken
+place&mdash;whether she deliberately threw herself into the water, or whether
+faint and dizzy, she fell in; when Fanfar leaped to her rescue she clung
+to him convulsively. Then came the fever and delirium, and when she was
+at last conscious she beheld a sweet face bending over her, and Ir&egrave;ne
+said, "Courage, sister, courage!"</p>
+
+<p>Francine, surprised and touched, extended her thin hands, but suddenly
+imagining that she was again in <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_259" id="Page_259">[Pg 259]</a></span>the house where she had suffered so
+much, she shrieked "Let me die! Let me die!"</p>
+
+<p>A relapse took place, and for several days her life hung on a thread.
+Ir&egrave;ne was indefatigable in her care, and finally she began to recover
+very slowly.</p>
+
+<p>She questioned Ir&egrave;ne as soon as she was able. What had become of the
+poor woman, the care of whom she had assumed? Hardly had she escaped
+from the jaws of death, than she began to think of others. Ir&egrave;ne could
+tell her little. Ever since the violent scene of the ball, Arthur de
+Montferrand, without confessing his real motives, for he loved Francine,
+had placed himself at the disposal of Ir&egrave;ne. He had divined her secret,
+and prevented her from betraying it to the curious crowd.</p>
+
+<p>Fanfar was in prison. His trial was soon coming on. It was believed that
+his condemnation was certain. The disturbance to the health of the king,
+consequent on the attempted assassination at the Tuileries, had, it was
+said, greatly embittered the monarchists. A report was in circulation
+that an infamous comedy had been enacted by this Fanfar and his sister
+in order to break off the marriage between Talizac and Mademoiselle de
+Salves, a money-making scheme, worthy of a street singer and a
+mountebank.</p>
+
+<p>The sick woman had disappeared. This intelligence drove Francine to
+despair. Who was this Caillette, who had pretended to take her place,
+and then disappeared, leaving no trace behind her?</p>
+
+<p>"But," said Francine, "who was it who saved me?"</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_260" id="Page_260">[Pg 260]</a></span></p><p>"Do you not know?" answered Ir&egrave;ne, coloring deeply.</p>
+
+<p>"No, I heard you mention a name that I do not know."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, that of Monsieur Fanfar."</p>
+
+<p>"Who is he?"</p>
+
+<p>Ir&egrave;ne looked at her and wondered if in her fever the girl's reason had
+deserted her.</p>
+
+<p>"I do not understand. Do you not know your brother?"</p>
+
+<p>"My brother!"</p>
+
+<p>Ir&egrave;ne passed her hand over her troubled brow.</p>
+
+<p>"My brother. Ah! what is it you say? I never had but one brother, dear
+little Jacques, who was always so good and kind to me!"</p>
+
+<p>"Jacques! but that is the name of&mdash;Monsieur Fanfar!"</p>
+
+<p>"I tell you," answered Francine, "that I never met any one of that name.
+Stop a moment, I remember a company of mountebanks on the Square; they
+were under the management of a man called Iron Jaws, and with him was
+this Fanfar, if I don't mistake."</p>
+
+<p>"Precisely, and this Fanfar is your brother, I heard him say so,
+himself, when I went to help you. He said to me, 'she is my sister&mdash;'"</p>
+
+<p>"Where is he? I must see him. He saved my life. Suppose that he is
+Jacques! But no, poor Jacques is dead!"</p>
+
+<p>Ir&egrave;ne could not help the poor girl; although she fully believed in the
+truth of what Fanfar had said, she could offer no proof.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_261" id="Page_261">[Pg 261]</a></span></p><p>Suddenly Francine exclaimed, "If he is my Jacques, he ought to be about
+twenty. He ought to be very handsome."</p>
+
+<p>Ir&egrave;ne colored, as she said, "He is handsome!"</p>
+
+<p>"With black eyes, and brown curling hair?"</p>
+
+<p>Ir&egrave;ne was unwilling to admit that she had studied Fanfar in all these
+details, but she stammered out, "Yes, that describes him."</p>
+
+<p>"For pity's sake, tell me all you know!"</p>
+
+<p>Ir&egrave;ne asked herself why she should hesitate. After all there was nothing
+to be ashamed of in her sentiments towards Fanfar.</p>
+
+<p>"I will tell you all," she said, in a low voice.</p>
+
+<p>"Why are you so disturbed?" asked Francine. "When you mention the name
+of this Fanfar, you have tears in your eyes."</p>
+
+<p>Ir&egrave;ne buried her face on her friend's shoulder: "I love him!" she
+whispered, "and I love you as if you were my sister!"</p>
+
+<p>The two young girls embraced each other tenderly.</p>
+
+<p>"But where is he?" said Francine, disengaging herself, "I wish to see
+him."</p>
+
+<p>Ir&egrave;ne started. Alas! amid all these emotions she had forgotten the sad
+truth that the brother, whom Francine ardently desired to embrace, was
+in a narrow cell, crushed under the accusation of an attempt on the life
+of the king.</p>
+
+<p>"Why do you not tell me where I can find him?" asked Francine, her eyes
+bright with fever.</p>
+
+<p>At this moment the door opened, and a tall and stately individual, known
+as Madame Ursula, made a <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_262" id="Page_262">[Pg 262]</a></span>sign to Ir&egrave;ne, who instantly obeyed the
+summons, glad to avoid the necessity of replying to Francine's
+questions.</p>
+
+<p>"What is it?" she said.</p>
+
+<p>Madame Ursula was unchanged. She was still in a constant state of horror
+at Ir&egrave;ne's conduct and defiance of conventionalities.</p>
+
+<p>"A very strange looking man wishes to speak to the young lady."</p>
+
+<p>"She can not receive him," replied Ir&egrave;ne, promptly.</p>
+
+<p>"So I supposed, but I delivered the message because I thought she knew
+this person, and I myself have seen him before." Madame Ursula looked
+down in some confusion. "He was pretending to be a frog, on a certain
+occasion&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"I do not understand you."</p>
+
+<p>"He is one of those clowns who amused the peasants at Saint Am&eacute;."</p>
+
+<p>"His name! his name!" cried Ir&egrave;ne, impatiently.</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know his name. He wore a gray hat&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Bobichel! It must be Bobichel!"</p>
+
+<p>Ir&egrave;ne had forgotten none of these names.</p>
+
+<p>"Let him come in!" she cried. "Let him come in!"</p>
+
+<p>In another moment Bobichel appeared. Was this the poor clown? No; there
+were no smiles on his lips, no quips and cranks on his tongue. His
+thinness had become emaciation.</p>
+
+<p>Ir&egrave;ne went forward.</p>
+
+<p>"You come from him?" she said, hastily.</p>
+
+<p>"From Fanfar? Oh! no&mdash;not directly, at least. They won't let me see him,
+you know."</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_263" id="Page_263">[Pg 263]</a></span></p><p>"Who sends you here, then?"</p>
+
+<p>"Gudel&mdash;Iron Jaws, you know."</p>
+
+<p>"Why did he not come himself?"</p>
+
+<p>"Ah! that I can't say. Gudel bade me give this note to you."</p>
+
+<p>Ir&egrave;ne broke the seal. The envelope contained two letters. One was
+directed to "Miss <i>Irainne</i>," the other to "Mademoiselle de Salves." Why
+did she open the latter? Did she know from the defective orthography
+that the first could not come from Fanfar? The letter she opened was
+from Fanfar. This was it:</p>
+
+
+<blockquote><p>"You, who are so good and kind, be doubly so to the sister I found when
+too late. The hour draws near when the so-called justice of man will
+strike an innocent person. You do not doubt me, I know. I am not one who
+would dishonor a sacred cause. Say to my sister that little Jacques has
+endeavored to be worthy of his father&mdash;Simon Foug&egrave;re.</p>
+
+<p>"I beg my adopted father, Gudel, to explain to you in detail the
+singular events of my life. I place entire confidence in you. I leave to
+your care poor Fran&ccedil;oise and little Cinette. Love them, and they will
+return your affection. You have not forgotten the words addressed to you
+so long ago: 'Make yourself beloved.'</p>
+
+<p>"I do not know whether I should now bid you an eternal farewell. I
+recognize the fact that I am the object of venomous hatred to some one,
+but to whom? Let no one seek to solve this mystery. I forgive this
+enemy, whomsoever he may be.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_264" id="Page_264">[Pg 264]</a></span></p>
+<p>"In a few days&mdash;to-morrow, perhaps&mdash;my fate will be decided. Do not
+despair."</p></blockquote>
+
+
+<p>Tears filled Ir&egrave;ne's eyes as she finished this letter.</p>
+
+<p>Bobichel watched her all the time, restraining his sobs with difficulty.</p>
+
+<p>"You love him!" he said softly, "and you are right, for he is the best
+man I ever knew!"</p>
+
+<p>Ir&egrave;ne extended her hand, and the clown knelt to kiss it.</p>
+
+<p>"But we must save him!" cried Ir&egrave;ne. "He shall not be condemned&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Condemned?" said a voice. "Of whom do you speak?"</p>
+
+<p>Francine, obeying an impulse, had thrown on a peignoir of white
+cashmere, and appeared, white and trembling, at the door. Ir&egrave;ne ran to
+her side.</p>
+
+<p>"Courage! sister," she cried, "courage!"</p>
+
+<p>Then Ir&egrave;ne herself gave way, and burst into passionate weeping. Francine
+took her brother's letter and read it slowly, but when she came to the
+words "little Jacques" and "Cinette," her eyes closed, and she would
+have fallen had not Bobichel caught her.</p>
+
+<p>"You must not cry like that!" he said. "You must not weep. We will save
+Fanfar! Please, Mademoiselle Ir&egrave;ne, read the letter Iron Jaws sends you.
+He has an idea, and he knows what he is about. He will save Fanfar!"</p>
+
+<p>Bobichel's confidence was so great, his honest affection was so
+apparent, that the two girls exchanged a hopeful glance.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_265" id="Page_265">[Pg 265]</a></span></p><p>"Read!" said Francine.</p>
+
+<p>Iron Jaws' letter was not faultless in respect to orthography. Its
+errors we will not repeat:</p>
+
+
+<blockquote><p>"Fanfar must be saved! I know your attachment for him. You have great
+influence with people in power. Try to see him, and give him something
+that Bobichel will hand you. I rely on your doing this."</p></blockquote>
+
+
+<p>"What am I to say to Iron Jaws?" asked Bobichel.</p>
+
+<p>"Tell him that I will do all he asks. But you have another note for me?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, not a note." And Bobichel, with infinite care, took from the flap
+of his coat a pin, an ordinary pin though of large size, not large
+enough, however, to excite the smallest suspicion.</p>
+
+<p>"Do you see that?" cried the clown, with much of his former gayety. "Do
+you see that, ladies and gentlemen? This pin does not look like much,
+does it, now? But you can screw off the head, and then you will find a
+tiny note&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"It is most ingenious," said Ir&egrave;ne, with a smile "and it shall be
+delivered as you desire."</p>
+
+<p>"Ah! you are a brave creature, and if some day you want some one to
+amuse your children&mdash;that is, when you have any, you know&mdash;send for me,
+and I will be frogs for them all day long!"</p>
+
+<p>And with this somewhat startling promise, Bobichel departed.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_266" id="Page_266">[Pg 266]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXVI" id="CHAPTER_XXXVI"></a>CHAPTER XXXVI.</h2>
+
+<h3>SUPREME EFFORT.</h3>
+
+
+<p>Monsieur de Fongereues was alone in his cabinet. Magdalena had left him
+only a few moments before. A violent scene had taken place between the
+husband and wife.</p>
+
+<p>The ruin that threatened the Fongereues mansion had been temporarily
+staved off by the marriage that had been arranged between Ir&egrave;ne and the
+Vicomte, but as soon as the world knew that the marriage was broken off,
+the tongues of gossips began to wag.</p>
+
+<p>The Fongereues felt that their doom was sealed when they knew that
+Ir&egrave;ne's millions were forever lost to them. Then this unhappy pair began
+to quarrel. To Magdalena's violent reproaches Fongereues answered by
+violent recriminations. Was it not her senseless indulgence that had
+caused the Vicomte to become the depraved and worthless person upon whom
+every one now turned a cold shoulder? If they were ruined, was it not
+because of the mad extravagance of mother and son?</p>
+
+<p>And Magdalena replied:</p>
+
+<p>"If I have been weak, was it not still more your duty to be strong? Who
+is the proper guide for a young man if not his father? You have been
+faithless <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_267" id="Page_267">[Pg 267]</a></span>to your duties, and, moreover, has he a vice which is not
+yours?"</p>
+
+<p>Fongereues foamed with rage, and before he could speak his wife had the
+audacity to say:</p>
+
+<p>"You are choked by the blood of your brother!"</p>
+
+<p>She thus reproached him for a crime that he had committed at her
+instigation. A moment more and this great lord would have demeaned
+himself to brutalities worthy of a lacquey, but with a look of contempt
+Magdalena swept past him and left the room. And now, crushed into a
+large arm-chair, the Marquis sat with his eyes fixed on the floor.</p>
+
+<p>"Count Fernando de Vellebri wishes to see you," a servant knocked at the
+door to say.</p>
+
+<p>"One moment!" answered the Marquis.</p>
+
+<p>He hurried to his dressing room, bathed his face in cold water and
+hastily brushed his fast whitening hair. He took his seat at his desk,
+which was covered with papers.</p>
+
+<p>"Show Monsieur de Vellebri up," he said.</p>
+
+<p>He shuddered as he spoke, for he had learned through Cyprien that this
+Fernando belonged to the society of the Jesuits. The young man entered.</p>
+
+<p>He was no longer the obsequious person with the stereotyped smile, who
+had done the will of the Vicomte de Talizac. Dressed in black, a long
+single-breasted coat, Fernando was the type of the Jesuits who pervaded
+French society. His dark hair rendered his pallor more remarkable. His
+half closed eyes were brilliant in spite of their heavy lids.</p>
+
+<p>Fongereues divined a contest. What new struggle <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_268" id="Page_268">[Pg 268]</a></span>would he be compelled
+to undergo? He pointed to a chair, but the Italian bowed and remained
+standing.</p>
+
+<p>"You wished to see me," said the Marquis, "and I am at your service. But
+what is this costume? I was not aware that you belonged to any religious
+society, officially, at least."</p>
+
+<p>"As to my claims to this dress," answered De Vellebri, coldly, "I am
+quite ready to explain them, if you will condescend to listen to me."</p>
+
+<p>His voice was monotonous, as he continued:</p>
+
+<p>"You are not ignorant, sir, of how greatly the conduct of the Vicomte de
+Talizac has compromised himself and his family."</p>
+
+<p>"I beg your pardon," interrupted the Marquis, "but may I ask if you were
+not the companion of my son in most of his excesses?"</p>
+
+<p>Fernando smiled satirically.</p>
+
+<p>"Perhaps you are not quite aware of the part I played in these excesses.
+Monsieur de Talizac is not a child, to be influenced for good or evil by
+his friends. Perhaps, instead of accusing me, you should thank me for
+having saved the honor of your house more than once."</p>
+
+<p>"Indeed, sir! I confess I do not understand."</p>
+
+<p>"It seems to me," said Fernando, still very calm, "that we are wandering
+from the real subject of this conversation. A powerful Society, sir,
+attached above all else to the practice of all virtues and to the
+triumph of God's cause, has for a long time been watching you. Your
+influence and your talents all give a guarantee <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_269" id="Page_269">[Pg 269]</a></span>that you may become a
+most useful auxiliary to the society to which I have the honor to
+belong."</p>
+
+<p>"The Society of Jesus?" interrupted the Marquis.</p>
+
+<p>Fernando did not reply to this direct question other than with a slight
+bow.</p>
+
+<p>"This society," he continued, "is disposed to come to your aid. It is
+they who have prevented His Majesty from revoking the favors shown to
+your son."</p>
+
+<p>Fongereues uttered an exclamation of surprise.</p>
+
+<p>"And they, too, will enable you to re-conquer the rank to which you
+belong."</p>
+
+<p>"On condition that I will be their slave!" said the Marquis, with a
+constrained smile.</p>
+
+<p>It was certain that in this terrible crisis the Marquis was ready to
+snatch at anything that would save him. But in spite of himself, he felt
+an invincible repugnance to giving himself up entirely to the control of
+these people and to have no will of his own. He hesitated. Fernando
+seemed to read his every thought.</p>
+
+<p>"I think, sir," he said, "that you exaggerate the consequences of the
+step I suggest."</p>
+
+<p>"And if I refuse?"</p>
+
+<p>"You will not refuse," said the Italian, quietly.</p>
+
+<p>Fongereues bit his lips.</p>
+
+<p>"What does the Society of Jesus require of me?"</p>
+
+<p>"Two things&mdash;a great service and a guarantee."</p>
+
+<p>"What do they offer me?"</p>
+
+<p>"The position of Prime Minister."</p>
+
+<p>The Marquis started.</p>
+
+<p>"I do not understand you," he said.</p>
+
+<p>"The position of Prime Minister."</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_270" id="Page_270">[Pg 270]</a></span></p><p>Beads of sweat broke out on the brow of the Marquis. He knew that the
+society was strong enough to keep its promises. He knew that as Prime
+Minister all his dreams of power and wealth would be realized.</p>
+
+<p>"You spoke also of a service and a guarantee," he said, quietly.</p>
+
+<p>"The service is the greatest that can be rendered by any man to the
+Catholic world and to his Holiness the Pope."</p>
+
+<p>Fernando lowered his voice.</p>
+
+<p>"You are aware, sir, that by a Royal Edict of 1764 the Jesuits were
+expelled from France. Two years since, in 1822, His Majesty, unable to
+elevate in its integrity the standard of Catholicism, contented himself
+with authorizing the sojourn in France of the Fathers of the Faith. The
+time has now come to arrest these persecutions entailed on the Society
+of Jesus. We are resolved that they shall be solemnly re-established
+under their own name, with all their rights and privileges, and this not
+by virtue of a royal edict, but by a legal measure emanating from the
+Chamber of Peers. This is a bold act and one full of danger. We are
+fully aware of it, and do not propose to deny it. To carry out this plan
+successfully would require great dexterity and astuteness, as well as
+profound faith in the justice of the cause you defend. The reward would
+be the dazzling recompense I have named. Monsieur de Fongereues, are
+you&mdash;can you be this man?"</p>
+
+<p>Fongereues started to his feet.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes&mdash;I can!" he cried.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_271" id="Page_271">[Pg 271]</a></span></p><p>"We will assist you," said the Jesuit. "We are certain of the support of
+a respectable minority. It is for you to scatter rewards, and warm
+lukewarm consciences, and I repeat, sir&mdash;a work like this is
+magnificent."</p>
+
+<p>"I belong to you, heart and soul," said Fongereues, "and to-morrow&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Wait," said Vellebri, laying his hand on the arm of the Marquis, thus
+forcing him back to his seat. "I spoke of a guarantee."</p>
+
+<p>"Ah! yes," answered Fongereues, "my word of honor, I presume, is
+enough?"</p>
+
+<p>Fernando did not seem to think a reply incumbent upon him. He continued:</p>
+
+<p>"The man in whom the Society places enough confidence to entrust him
+with arms which will ensure his victory, should be bound to them by
+strong ties."</p>
+
+<p>Fongereues listened with interest and curiosity.</p>
+
+<p>"And the strongest ties are those of gold," said the Jesuit, slowly and
+distinctly. "You questioned me as to my claim to my dress. I am the
+Secretary of the General of the Society, and I am required to ask, if
+you are willing to aid in the establishment of houses like those of
+Montrouge and Saint-Acheul in Parma and Tuscany?"</p>
+
+<p>"Most certainly," answered Fongereues, uneasily, for this allusion to
+money was most unwelcome. "I am ready to second all efforts of this
+Society, but still it would be necessary for me to know just what amount
+would be required of me. My resources are just now greatly restricted,
+and&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_272" id="Page_272">[Pg 272]</a></span></p><p>"Do not be concerned," said Vellebri, coldly, "the amount need not
+disturb you." Fongereues sighed with relief. "You will have to give but
+one million."</p>
+
+<p>"A million!" repeated the Marquis, in despair.</p>
+
+<p>"In fixing this sum our Superiors have merely carried out their plan of
+attaching you to their cause."</p>
+
+<p>"But a million!" repeated the Marquis, "it is impossible. Were I to sell
+all that I now have in the world, I should not realize the half of this
+sum!"</p>
+
+<p>"Is this, then, a refusal?"</p>
+
+<p>"By no means. But a million!&mdash;I haven't it," and he repeated these words
+over and over again.</p>
+
+<p>"But you have resources which should make such a sacrifice easy."</p>
+
+<p>"No, you are mistaken. I am ruined, entirely ruined!"</p>
+
+<p>His agitation was so great that he forgot to dissimulate.</p>
+
+<p>"But the fortune of your father was very large, and cannot be
+exhausted."</p>
+
+<p>"But I was robbed of that!"</p>
+
+<p>Fernando rose from his chair.</p>
+
+<p>"Permit me," he said, "to decline to enter into any affairs foreign to
+the matters we have under consideration. I came to offer you peace or
+war. Peace means fortune and power, and war&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"War!" repeated Fongereues, "I do not understand you."</p>
+
+<p>"When the Society proposes a compact, when, as I have just done to you,
+she unveils her secret designs, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_273" id="Page_273">[Pg 273]</a></span>she holds in reserve a weapon which
+places at her mercy the man of whom she wished to make an ally, and whom
+she does not choose to have for an adversary."</p>
+
+<p>"I! I an adversary of the Society of Jesus! You cannot mean what you
+say."</p>
+
+<p>"Everything is possible, Marquis. This is our ultimatum&mdash;either you will
+accept the proposals I have made, and placing in my hands within five
+days the million I ask, you will at once begin the campaign whose
+success is certain, or within five days a certain person will place in
+the hands of the Procureur de Roi papers which will be your ruin."</p>
+
+<p>"What do you mean?"</p>
+
+<p>Fongereues was livid as he asked this question.</p>
+
+<p>"They are notes, forged by the Vicomte, your son!"</p>
+
+<p>"Talizac a forger! Impossible!"</p>
+
+<p>"I assure you that it is only too true. Once more, let me ask for your
+decision."</p>
+
+<p>"I beg you to remember that my devotion to the Society is unalterable.
+But a million&mdash;you know!"</p>
+
+<p>"You understand," repeated Vellebri, "it is a million that is demanded?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, I know. Grant me a little time."</p>
+
+<p>"We give you five days, as I said, at the end of which time the
+proposition I have named must be presented to the Chamber of Peers."</p>
+
+<p>"I will present it."</p>
+
+<p>"But the Society will not permit you to interfere until you have given
+the required guarantee. And now, good-morning, sir."</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_274" id="Page_274">[Pg 274]</a></span></p><p>In vain did Fongereues petition the Italian to remain, but Fernando
+bowed coldly and departed.</p>
+
+<p>Fongereues sank back in his chair, utterly crushed. For a few moments he
+had indulged in the hope of a proud future, and now, knowing that he
+could not raise a million, he felt that he was in deeper perplexity than
+ever.</p>
+
+<p>Cyprien now appeared.</p>
+
+<p>"You made a mistake, sir, in hesitating for a moment. Write to the
+Society that before five days have elapsed you will have fulfilled the
+conditions imposed."</p>
+
+<p>"That would be folly!"</p>
+
+<p>"Is not Fanfar in prison?"</p>
+
+<p>"What of that? He will not be condemned."</p>
+
+<p>"By the judges, possibly not&mdash;but by us."</p>
+
+<p>Fongereues held himself more erect.</p>
+
+<p>"Tell me what you mean, Cyprien?" he asked.</p>
+
+<p>The lacquey laughed.</p>
+
+<p>"I mean simply, that I will kill this Fanfar!"</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_275" id="Page_275">[Pg 275]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXVII" id="CHAPTER_XXXVII"></a>CHAPTER XXXVII.</h2>
+
+<h3>THE TRIAL.</h3>
+
+
+<p>Political trials are all much alike, and this of Fanfar was no
+exception. On the day that it was to take place the pretended assassin
+and his pretended accomplice (that is to say Fanfar), were led to the
+court-room, where the magistrates, in their red robes and ermine, were
+seated. The newspapers, while attacking Fanfar furiously, had not
+omitted to mention that the accused was excessively handsome. This
+naturally brought a large number of women to the trial, and when the
+prisoner appeared, there was a low hum of admiration and surprise.
+Fanfar's companion, the man of whom Fanfar had made, it was said, a
+tool, excited neither admiration nor sympathy. Fanfar looked at him once
+and turned away in disgust.</p>
+
+<p>It is now the proper time to say that this man, whom Cyprien had chosen
+to play the part of regicide, was none other than Fanfar's former enemy,
+Robeccal himself, who had been found in the closet and liberated by
+Cyprien.</p>
+
+<p>This man had fallen so low that it mattered little to him what he did.
+The lacquey Cyprien profited by this mood, and in a short time obtained
+the result he desired.</p>
+
+<p>To the declaration of the accused, who had been found secreted in the
+Tuileries, Fanfar replied with <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_276" id="Page_276">[Pg 276]</a></span>contempt. He told who this man was, and
+the crimes of which he had been guilty. All this, however, by no means
+proved that he himself was innocent of participation in the crime.
+Fanfar had not mentioned the affair of the deserted house, for he did
+not wish his sister's name to appear. This was a great relief to
+Robeccal, who, in spite of the manner in which he had been treated by La
+Roulante, did not wish to get her into trouble.</p>
+
+<p>The trial took its course. Robeccal wept and expressed great penitence,
+said that he loved the king, etc. All this produced an excellent effect
+on the jury, who considered the fellow a little simple.</p>
+
+<p>Then came Fanfar's turn. He stood with arms folded on his breast, and
+once turned and looked toward the end of the court-room. He probably saw
+what he wished, for he smiled, and a light came into his eyes. Then he
+looked again at the President, and waited. In reality there was no other
+charge against him than the persistent declaration of Robeccal, but this
+was by the judges considered quite proof enough of his culpability.</p>
+
+<p>"You belong to a secret association, do you not?" asked the judge.</p>
+
+<p>"I am a Frenchman," answered Fanfar, "and like others of this heroic
+nation claim liberty of thought and action. Do you call France a secret
+society?"</p>
+
+<p>The President reproved Fanfar for this speech, and called him in his
+anger an assassin. The young man replied, in a voice of great feeling:</p>
+
+<p>"Only those," he said, "should be called assassins <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_277" id="Page_277">[Pg 277]</a></span>who have cut the
+throat of France and plucked a blood-stained crown from the men!"</p>
+
+<p>There was a great tumult. "Bravo! Fanfar," said a voice among the
+audience.</p>
+
+<p>Naturally a dozen innocent men were accused of uttering this incendiary
+exclamation, while Gudel, in a quiet livery, was not interfered with.
+Ir&egrave;ne de Salves never moved her eyes from Fanfar. Finally, quiet was
+restored.</p>
+
+<p>"Mr. President," said Fanfar, "my father fell in the French frontier,
+fighting against the Cossacks and the emigr&eacute;s. There are no assassins in
+our family!"</p>
+
+<p>From this moment the trial went on rapidly. The sentence was a foregone
+conclusion.</p>
+
+<p>Robeccal was condemned to death. Fanfar, under the name of Jacques
+Foug&egrave;re, was sentenced to the galleys for life.</p>
+
+<p>But just as the sentenced was pronounced, a singular event occurred.
+Fanfar rose and opened his lips as if to speak, extended his arm, and
+fell full length on the floor. Cries of astonishment arose from the
+crowd.</p>
+
+<p>"He has killed himself!" cried some.</p>
+
+<p>"He has been poisoned!" said others.</p>
+
+<p>Ir&egrave;ne hastened to find Gudel. She had seen him near the door, but he had
+vanished. The crowd departed, saying to each other, sadly:</p>
+
+<p>"He is dead!"</p>
+
+<p>Robeccal was carried off more dead than alive. His sentence had
+frightened him. Perhaps he had not unbounded confidence in the honest
+people who had employed him.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_278" id="Page_278">[Pg 278]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXVIII" id="CHAPTER_XXXVIII"></a>CHAPTER XXXVIII.</h2>
+
+<h3>THE CRISIS.</h3>
+
+
+<p>"At last!" cried the Marquis, when the news of Fanfar's death reached
+him. He sent for Magdalena.</p>
+
+<p>"Madame!" he said, "rejoice with me. Let us forget our mutual wrongs,
+for a new horizon stretches before us. All our anxieties are over. The
+man who stood between us and the possession of a fortune is dead!"</p>
+
+<p>"Of whom do you speak?"</p>
+
+<p>"Of this Fanfar, who, after making an attempt on the life of our king,
+was struck dead in the court-room during his trial."</p>
+
+<p>"And this Fanfar was the son of Simon de Fongereues?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, Madame, of my brother. And our father, who hated us, as you know,
+left the larger part of his fortune in the care of a fanatical
+body-servant of his, who held it as in trust for Simon's son whenever he
+should find him. He refused to relinquish this trust until he had proof
+of the death of the youth. Now he must be made to speak, for the only
+heir of the Fongereues fortune is myself, and I shall appeal to the
+law."</p>
+
+<p>The Marquise talked with her husband for a long <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_279" id="Page_279">[Pg 279]</a></span>time. The next thing to
+do was to make Gudel speak frankly. This he had no hesitation in doing,
+and he again told the story he had told to the Marquis.</p>
+
+<p>As to Pierre Labarre, of course he could make no further resistance. So
+long as the Marquis knew that Fanfar was living he had been obliged to
+be cautious; now no such reason existed.</p>
+
+<p>The dreams of the Marquis were realized&mdash;a million for the Jesuits, and
+the gratification of his ambition and pride.</p>
+
+<p>"Our son will be rich and happy!" said Magdalena, in an ecstasy of joy.
+"But where is the boy? Write, Marquis, write to him at once. He must be
+suffering intolerably in this exile you have imposed upon him."</p>
+
+<p>But Fongereues did not heed her words. He was thinking of other things.</p>
+
+<p>"Cyprien has served me well!" he said. "How is it that I have not seen
+him for two days?"</p>
+
+<p>"I was speaking of our son!" answered Magdalena, angrily. "Do you not
+think of your son? Do you not love your son?"</p>
+
+<p>The Marquis took her hand. "It is time that we understood each other,"
+he said, sadly. "For twenty years I have lived a melancholy life. I have
+yielded to your caprices, I have followed your counsel, and to what end?
+Look at me&mdash;my hair is gray, my face is seamed and lined. I have never
+had one hour of repose. For whom have I carried this burthen? For
+myself? I despise mankind, I despise power, I despise you, and despise
+myself. I have but one real passion in life, and that is my love for
+this wretched boy who <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_280" id="Page_280">[Pg 280]</a></span>bears my name. What have you, his mother, done
+for him?"</p>
+
+<p>Magdalena turned away from her husband's melancholy eyes.</p>
+
+<p>"Why I love him," continued the Marquis, "I know not, except that
+criminals love their children as wild beasts their young. You have
+questioned me, and I have answered you. Are you satisfied?"</p>
+
+<p>There came at this moment a hurried knock at the door.</p>
+
+<p>"Come in!" cried the Marquis, angrily.</p>
+
+<p>A valet entered with a very pale face.</p>
+
+<p>"Monsieur! my young master&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Ah! he has come!" cried the Marquise, rushing to the door.</p>
+
+<p>But the lacquey extended his arms, as if to stop her.</p>
+
+<p>"Madame!" he began.</p>
+
+<p>"Well! what is it?"</p>
+
+<p>"My young master is dead!" said the lacquey, with trembling lips.</p>
+
+<p>Then there went up the cry of two stricken hearts. The two criminals
+looked at each other. They must have misunderstood the servant, who now
+pointed to the stairs, up which were coming men bearing a bier. What was
+underneath the cloth? Was it their son? Impossible!</p>
+
+<p>A young man appeared. Magdalena rushed toward him, without a word. The
+youth bowed his head.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, he is dead. Monsieur de Talizac has been killed in a duel!"</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_281" id="Page_281">[Pg 281]</a></span></p><p>Magdalena sank upon the floor, unconscious. Fongereues laughed
+hysterically.</p>
+
+<p>"Nonsense! My son has fought no duel," he said.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes&mdash;with Arthur de Montferrand, whose sword pierced his heart!"</p>
+
+<p>Fongereues tore the cloth from the bier. Yes, it was the Vicomte de
+Talizac. The wretched father tried to speak. Every muscle in his face
+quivered. The servants fell back, shocked by all this agony.</p>
+
+<p>"Tell me all!" he said at last.</p>
+
+<p>"There is little to tell, sir, beyond the bare fact. I have, however, a
+letter which the Vicomte gave me before he went on the ground."</p>
+
+<p>Magdalena snatched this letter and tore it open. It contained but one
+line:</p>
+
+
+<blockquote><p>"Faithless parents, I curse you with my dying breath!"</p></blockquote>
+
+
+<p>These words, coming from beyond the tomb, were terrible.</p>
+
+<p>At this moment the door opened. An old man, with head uncovered and
+long, white hair, stood there.</p>
+
+<p>"The Vicomte de Talizac is dead!" whispered one of the servants.</p>
+
+<p>The stranger started, and, with a compassionate look, laid his hand on
+the shoulder of the Marquis, who was kneeling by the body of his son.
+The Marquis looked up and shrank back, saying:</p>
+
+<p>"Pierre Labarre!"</p>
+
+<p>It was, indeed, the old servant, sad eyed and hope<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_282" id="Page_282">[Pg 282]</a></span>less. He had come to
+Paris as quickly as possible, leaving Fran&ccedil;oise and Caillette to follow.
+He went at once to the court-room, and there heard that Fanfar had been
+carried to one of the lower rooms. Physicians had been sent for, who had
+attributed his death to an aneurism.</p>
+
+<p>"You are avenged, Pierre!" cried the Marquis. "Why are you here? Leave
+this house at once!"</p>
+
+<p>But the old man did not move.</p>
+
+<p>"No!" he said, "you must hear me. We have not done with each other." He
+extended his hand toward the dead body. "You may well weep for your son,
+Marquis, but you may also weep for Fanfar."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, because this fellow, for whom you would have stolen my father's
+fortune, is dead. This Fanfar was my brother's son&mdash;I know it, and you
+know it, too, but you do not know that I killed him!"</p>
+
+<p>Labarre drew back in terror.</p>
+
+<p>"No, no&mdash;do not say that!"</p>
+
+<p>"Why should I not say it? It is true. I discovered the secret of his
+birth, and I removed him from my path&mdash;I poisoned him!"</p>
+
+<p>The old man staggered to the wall, where he leaned for support.</p>
+
+<p>"Now, denounce me!" cried the Marquis, "and I am ready to mount the
+scaffold. I killed this Fanfar, and this thought is all that gives me a
+ray of comfort!"</p>
+
+<p>"Hush! This Fanfar was not the Marquis de Fongereues, he was not Simon's
+son. Do you remember a night which you once spent in a humble cottage at
+Sachemont?"</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_283" id="Page_283">[Pg 283]</a></span></p><p>"Sachemont?" repeated Fongereues.</p>
+
+<p>"That night two men claimed the hospitality of an old man. One of these
+strangers was a Frenchman, but he was base enough to insult the daughter
+of the old man. He did worse&mdash;he committed a dastardly crime. That man,
+sir, was known as the Marquis de Talizac!"</p>
+
+<p>Fongereues sat with his eyes fixed on the old man.</p>
+
+<p>"The Vicomte fled like a scoundrel, leaving dishonor and despair on his
+track. But he never knew that the poor girl gave birth to a child&mdash;a
+son."</p>
+
+<p>"What of that!" cried Fongereues, who did not choose to understand.</p>
+
+<p>"Silence! I have not finished. Do you know who took that child and
+educated him? It was the brother whom you hated. Your victim was dead
+and he married her sister, and later, when you set the Cossacks on the
+village of Leigoutte and bade them to kill women and children, there was
+one child named Jacques and that child was your son."</p>
+
+<p>Fongereues was deadly pale; large drops stood on his brow.</p>
+
+<p>"You lie!" cried the Marquis, "Fanfar was my brother's son."</p>
+
+<p>"Here is the certificate of his birth," said Pierre. "You knew Simon's
+writing, for you intercepted his letters to your father. Look! these
+lines tell the story."</p>
+
+
+<blockquote><p>"I, eldest son of the Marquis de Fongereues, declare, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_284" id="Page_284">[Pg 284]</a></span>on my sacred word
+of honor, that the child who bears my name and passes for my son, is the
+child of Jacqueline Lema&icirc;tre and the Vicomte de Talizac."</p></blockquote>
+
+
+<p>"The paper is signed with Simon's full name."</p>
+
+<p>The Marquis fell on his knees.</p>
+
+<p>"Ah! Monsieur, these are terrible days, but you will not say again that
+you poisoned Fanfar."</p>
+
+<p>Fongereues shuddered, and endeavored to hide his face.</p>
+
+<p>Labarre felt dizzy with horror. "Answer me," he repeated.</p>
+
+<p>Fongereues answered in a low voice:</p>
+
+<p>"Kill me! I have killed my son!"</p>
+
+<p>The old servant started forward as if to fell the Marquis to the earth,
+but suddenly he remembered his old master, the man whom he had loved so
+tenderly, and he could not harm his son. He half turned away.</p>
+
+<p>"Tell me the whole," he faltered, "I must know the whole."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," stammered the Marquis. "Cyprien, who is my slave, poisoned him. I
+determined to have the fortune without longer delay. I bade him do this
+deed, and he obeyed me. I am accursed!"</p>
+
+<p>Labarre went toward the door.</p>
+
+<p>"Farewell!" he said.</p>
+
+<p>"No," cried the Marquis, "you must not leave me alone with this dead
+man. I am afraid! You must take me too to see the other."</p>
+
+<p>Labarre stopped short. "Where was Cyprien?" he asked hastily.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_285" id="Page_285">[Pg 285]</a></span></p><p>The Marquis understood him. He rang his bell furiously. It might be
+after all that he was not guilty of Fanfar's death.</p>
+
+<p>A servant entered. The Marquis asked for Cyprien; he had not been seen
+in the h&ocirc;tel for two days, the lacquey replied.</p>
+
+<p>The Marquis turned to his father's servant.</p>
+
+<p>"I have grave duties to perform," he said, quietly, "first I must see my
+son. You must go with me."</p>
+
+<p>Labarre shook his head.</p>
+
+<p>"In the name of my brother!" said Fongereues. Then stopping, he said,
+suddenly, "Does this fortune left by my father really exist?"</p>
+
+<p>Labarre started. Could it be that this man at this time could be
+thinking of money?</p>
+
+<p>"You misunderstand me!" cried the Marquis, "but never mind, answer me!"</p>
+
+<p>"The money is safe," said Pierre.</p>
+
+<p>"And you can give me a million to-morrow?"</p>
+
+<p>"What do you want of a million?"</p>
+
+<p>"Can you give it to me, that is the question?"</p>
+
+<p>"I can."</p>
+
+<p>Fongereues wrote a few words, and rang the bell.</p>
+
+<p>"Take this letter to Monsieur Fernando de Vellebri, and see that there
+is no delay. And now, Pierre, come with me."</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_286" id="Page_286">[Pg 286]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXIX" id="CHAPTER_XXXIX"></a>CHAPTER XXXIX.</h2>
+
+<h3>THE AUTOPSY.</h3>
+
+
+<p>In a house opposite the Palais de Justice, two men were talking together
+in an attic room. One of these men was seated, the other was standing.
+The one who was seated, robust and vigorous, was anxiously questioning a
+person, who answered slowly and coldly.</p>
+
+<p>"Then Doctor, you are sure?"</p>
+
+<p>"Have no uneasiness. I know what I am doing."</p>
+
+<p>"You understand that it is for to-morrow, and nothing can be done during
+the night. It means, in short, forty hours."</p>
+
+<p>"When I accepted the terrible responsibility which you proposed to me, I
+weighed every detail. And once more I bid you have entire confidence in
+me and in science, and in the devotion of those who are brothers in a
+common cause."</p>
+
+<p>"Forgive me!" repeated the other. "Forgive my anxiety and apparent
+distrust."</p>
+
+<p>"I am at your disposal at all times and seasons; if the important moment
+be advanced or retarded, be sure that I shall be in readiness."</p>
+
+<p>The two men shook hands cordially, and the Doctor went out. The other
+threw himself on a chair, and covering his face with his huge hands,
+wept bitterly<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_287" id="Page_287">[Pg 287]</a></span>&mdash;wept like a child, did this poor Iron Jaws. Suddenly he
+started up, and cried:</p>
+
+<p>"This must succeed! This must succeed!"</p>
+
+<p>He heard hurried steps coming up the stairs, and then a knock at the
+door.</p>
+
+<p>"Who is it?"</p>
+
+<p>"Bobichel!"</p>
+
+<p>It was indeed Bobichel, red and much out of breath.</p>
+
+<p>"Well?" asked Gudel.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh! she is an angel! she had been crying when I got there. She brought
+me here in her carriage, and she wants to see you."</p>
+
+<p>Gudel strode from the room. On the lower floor he found Ir&egrave;ne waiting;
+she was pale and dressed in black.</p>
+
+<p>"Ah! sir," she said, anxiety sharpening her voice, "tell me what all
+this means!"</p>
+
+<p>"Fanfar is not dead."</p>
+
+<p>The girl swayed to and fro. Gudel caught her, and went on.</p>
+
+<p>"No, he is not dead. I thought you ought to know it."</p>
+
+<p>"Where is he?"</p>
+
+<p>"Ah! dear lady, he lies at this moment in a dark room, and looks as if
+he could never again rise."</p>
+
+<p>"Horrible!"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, in a way, but not so bad when you come to think about it, for
+to-morrow Fanfar will be alive and free."</p>
+
+<p>"Alive and free! Ah! I dare not hope. But tell me the whole."</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_288" id="Page_288">[Pg 288]</a></span></p><p>"You remember that I sent you a note to give to Fanfar?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes&mdash;I have it still."</p>
+
+<p>"Now, if you are not afraid of a little dampness, I will show you
+something."</p>
+
+<p>Ir&egrave;ne looked at Gudel in amazement.</p>
+
+<p>"Very good, but first about Fanfar?"</p>
+
+<p>"I assure you, dear lady, that he is safe. Now, Bobichel, go; see and
+hear all you can, and if you find out anything new, come to me at once."</p>
+
+<p>"All right, master," and with a double somersault Bobichel vanished.</p>
+
+<p>Gudel lighted a lantern, and then said to Ir&egrave;ne that he was ready. They
+went out into a corridor, and Gudel, taking a key from his pocket,
+opened a small door which showed stone steps going down.</p>
+
+<p>"Be careful," said Iron Jaws, "for the steps are very slippery."</p>
+
+<p>He held the lantern high and guided her steps. It was like a gnome
+guiding a fairy into some mine of wealth. But it was not toward any
+treasure that Gudel conducted Ir&egrave;ne. He opened another door after
+pushing several bolts.</p>
+
+<p>"Up with you!" he cried, "you have company!"</p>
+
+<p>Notwithstanding all her courage, Ir&egrave;ne started back.</p>
+
+<p>"Have no fear, Mademoiselle," said Iron Jaws, "he is a ferocious beast,
+but he is chained!"</p>
+
+<p>Ir&egrave;ne beheld a man fastened to the wall with an iron chain. At first she
+did not recognize him.</p>
+
+<p>"This individual," said Gudel, "is Cyprien, the man who does all the
+dirty work of his excellency <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_289" id="Page_289">[Pg 289]</a></span>the Marquis de Fongereues, going so far as
+to do a little poisoning on occasion."</p>
+
+<p>"Undo my chain!" cried Cyprien.</p>
+
+<p>"Not if I know it! But if you answer my questions, you shall have
+something to eat."</p>
+
+<p>"I am hungry!" murmured the rascal.</p>
+
+<p>"Pshaw! one meal each day will certainly prevent your being miserable.
+Now, why did you poison Fanfar?"</p>
+
+<p>The fellow sighed.</p>
+
+<p>"Tell me what interest you had in poisoning Fanfar."</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know."</p>
+
+<p>"That is a lie!"</p>
+
+<p>"He can tell you nothing," whispered Ir&egrave;ne, "let him go."</p>
+
+<p>"No, Mademoiselle. This scoundrel bribed one of the jailers to give
+Fanfar a drug that would have killed him in five minutes. Fortunately, I
+was on the watch. I captured Cyprien and I brought him here. But I
+confess I am greatly puzzled by one thing&mdash;it is that I can't make out
+what the Marquis had against Fanfar, and this animal will not tell me."</p>
+
+<p>"My friend," said Ir&egrave;ne, "however guilty you may be, you are but the
+instrument of others. Why, then, do you not try to make amends for your
+errors by telling the truth?"</p>
+
+<p>Cyprien hesitated, but he said again:</p>
+
+<p>"I do not know."</p>
+
+<p>"Then good-night, my dear fellow!" said Gudel. "Here is a loaf of bread
+for you, rascal that you are!"</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_290" id="Page_290">[Pg 290]</a></span></p><p>Ir&egrave;ne hastened from the dungeon, and when they had again ascended the
+stairs, Gudel said to her:</p>
+
+<p>"These fellows are all alike, after all!"</p>
+
+<p>"What are you trying to do?" asked Ir&egrave;ne.</p>
+
+<p>"It is simple enough. Instead of poison, Fanfar took a narcotic, and
+lies as if dead. He will be buried, of course, but we will look out for
+that, and he will be taken care of."</p>
+
+<p>The shock to Ir&egrave;ne was so great that she burst into passionate weeping.
+Gudel was doing his best to soothe her, when suddenly the door was
+thrown open and Bobichel rushed in, all pale and dishevelled.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh! master," he cried, "all is lost! There is to be an autopsy. One of
+the great physicians advises it."</p>
+
+<p>Ir&egrave;ne uttered a shriek of agony and dropped on her knees.</p>
+
+<p>"Run!" she cried, "the truth must be made known at once. Oh! save him!"</p>
+
+<p>Gudel tore his hair. Suddenly a thought struck him.</p>
+
+<p>"Who is the physician?"</p>
+
+<p>"Dr. Albant, from the Tuileries."</p>
+
+<p>Iron Jaws reflected. He took Ir&egrave;ne's hands in his.</p>
+
+<p>"I am but a poor fellow, dear lady, only a strolling player, but I swear
+to you that Fanfar shall be saved!"</p>
+
+<p>Ir&egrave;ne was comforted.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_291" id="Page_291">[Pg 291]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XL" id="CHAPTER_XL"></a>CHAPTER XL.</h2>
+
+<h3>BETWEEN CHARYBDIS AND SCYLLA.</h3>
+
+
+<p>The situation was indeed a terrible one. Bobichel's words were true.</p>
+
+<p>When Fanfar fell as if dead, it was supposed that it was an attack of
+apoplexy, and some good people ventured to call it a judgment from
+heaven for his crimes. Others again spoke of poison, and arraigned the
+governor of the prison for carelessness. There was one physician among
+those who were called in who could not agree with the others. He used a
+number of scientific expressions, but the fact remained the same&mdash;Fanfar
+was dead. But there was so much discussion that a post-mortem
+examination was deemed essential. The body, therefore, was carried on a
+litter to the hospital, where he was examined by a crowd of curious
+medical students, who declared that he was so splendidly developed that
+he ought to have lived to be a hundred years old.</p>
+
+<p>A messenger was sent to Dr. Albant, and the dissecting table was
+prepared.</p>
+
+<p>This time the plan of the heroes of the right had failed. Fanfar was
+alive, but he would certainly be killed now, as his torpidity was so
+great that he would not utter a cry or a groan until the instruments
+touched some vital organ.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_292" id="Page_292">[Pg 292]</a></span></p><p>The door opened and Dr. Albant, a handsome old man, entered with smiles
+and nods. He removed his coat and tied on a large apron. Trying the edge
+of his scalpel on his nail, he turned to the students and physicians,
+and began to talk of the German method of conducting a post mortem.</p>
+
+<p>"We French, however, begin here," he said, lightly placing his scalpel
+on the tender flesh.</p>
+
+<p>"Dr. Albant!" cried a stentorian voice.</p>
+
+<p>The surgeon turned. A messenger in the king's livery stood in the
+doorway.</p>
+
+<p>"Gentlemen, excuse me&mdash;the king communicates with me!"</p>
+
+<p>A close observer would have thought it singular that the king should
+send a letter by an ordinary servant, like a simple bourgeois. But this
+did not seem to strike Dr. Albant, who, with a face beaming with smiles,
+turned to the students, saying:</p>
+
+<p>"Excuse me, gentlemen, but the king demands my presence."</p>
+
+<p>"But the autopsy?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh! that may be given up. This man died from cerebral congestion&mdash;I see
+it as plain as day!"</p>
+
+<p>As he spoke he tore off his apron, and got himself into his coat again
+with all possible speed.</p>
+
+<p>"Bury the man at once!" he said as he left the room. A carriage awaited
+him at the door, and he drove off.</p>
+
+<p>The royal messenger waited a moment and then he, too, walked away, and
+going down a narrow alley he <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_293" id="Page_293">[Pg 293]</a></span>entered a little wineshop by a back door,
+and throwing himself on a bench, exclaimed:</p>
+
+<p>"I was just in time, Bobichel. A second later and Fanfar would have been
+no more!"</p>
+
+<p>The hospital was now anxious to get rid of this useless body, and orders
+were given that it should be buried without delay. Gudel and his friends
+had bribed the functionaries.</p>
+
+<p>All went smoothly, and in an hour the hearse was to take Fanfar away.
+But before this, a card was brought in to the governor of the hospital.
+On this card was the name of the Marquis de Fongereues, and in the
+corner of the glossy bit of pasteboard was a tiny sign, which signified
+that his visitor was especially recommended by the Society of which he
+was a member. He gave orders that the Marquis should be shown in at
+once.</p>
+
+<p>Fongereues appeared, leaning on the arm of Pierre Labarre. The Marquis
+had suddenly grown old, his strength was gone, and his feet were as
+uncertain as those of a drunken man.</p>
+
+<p>The governor rose to receive him. Fongereues tried to speak, but his
+voice died in his throat. He handed the governor an order from the
+minister, directing that the body of the man named Fanfar should be
+surrendered to the Marquis de Fongereues.</p>
+
+<p>Our readers will notice that the promised million had already borne
+fruit in the granting of the first request made by the Marquis, who had
+laid aside his ambition and thought only of recovering the body of his
+son in return for the million.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_294" id="Page_294">[Pg 294]</a></span></p><p>"Can I see the body?" asked the Marquis.</p>
+
+<p>The governor bowed assent and led him to the room where Fanfar still
+lay. Fongereues looked down on the noble features and manly form. How
+entirely they differed from those of the son for whom the Marquis had
+sacrificed everything. The Marquis knelt in silence for some minutes,
+while Labarre shed bitter tears.</p>
+
+<p>"What does the Marquis propose to do?" asked the governor, who did not
+understand this scene, and was becoming impatient.</p>
+
+<p>Labarre said, in a low voice, "The men will come up with a bier."</p>
+
+<p>In a few minutes Fanfar's body was carried to the H&ocirc;tel de Fongereues
+and laid by the side of the Vicomte.</p>
+
+<p>Labarre made no attempt to resist this caprice of the Marquis. The old
+servant, now that De Fongereues showed such humility and grief, had
+become his devoted servant.</p>
+
+<p>The Marquis asked for his wife, and was told that she had left the h&ocirc;tel
+alone and on foot.</p>
+
+<p>"Pierre," said the Marquis, "I must say a few words to you. With the
+exception of this million I have required at your hands, the fortune
+which should have been Simon's must be given to his daughter. Tell her
+the whole truth; it is only just. Watch over this girl, proclaim her
+right to the name and property of our house. When I am dead do not lay
+me in French soil&mdash;I am not worthy of France&mdash;but place <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_295" id="Page_295">[Pg 295]</a></span>me where I am
+unknown and unheard of. You will obey these wishes?"</p>
+
+<p>Labarre answered, solemnly, "I will obey them."</p>
+
+<p>"Very good; we will start to-night for the ch&acirc;teau, and there side by
+side we will bury the two sons whom I have murdered."</p>
+
+<p>While Fongereues, crushed under the weight of his remorse, was thus
+announcing his last wishes, another scene was taking place in the
+hospital. Gudel and Bobichel had applied for Fanfar's body.</p>
+
+<p>"Too late!" answered the concierge. And the two men heard with
+consternation that Fanfar had been taken away. And where? No one knew.</p>
+
+<p>Delay was inevitable. Gudel and the former clown went out into the
+street and there abandoned themselves to their distress.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_296" id="Page_296">[Pg 296]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XLI" id="CHAPTER_XLI"></a>CHAPTER XLI.</h2>
+
+<h3>VIDOCQ, THE CHIEF OF POLICE.</h3>
+
+
+<p>To be condemned to death cannot be a very pleasant feeling, and
+Robeccal, though assured that he should not suffer, was naturally very
+uneasy. He did his best to keep up his courage, hoping every minute that
+some one would appear and furnish him with the means of leaving France.
+Finally the door opened, and Vidocq himself, the Chief of Police,
+entered.</p>
+
+<p>Robeccal, in a state of suppressed delight, had the audacity to wink at
+him.</p>
+
+<p>"At last!" said the prisoner. "Really, sir, I think I have had about
+enough of this. When am I to leave France?"</p>
+
+<p>"I think, my dear sir," answered Vidocq, in a somewhat sarcastic voice,
+"that you will not leave France."</p>
+
+<p>"Ah! I am glad to hear that."</p>
+
+<p>"A residence has been assigned to you in a most delightful climate."</p>
+
+<p>"And where may that be? What is the name of the place?"</p>
+
+<p>"You will have no difficulty in remembering it, I fancy. Toulon is the
+name."</p>
+
+<p>"Toulon!" repeated Robeccal, his eyes fairly starting from his head.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_297" id="Page_297">[Pg 297]</a></span></p><p>"Yes, your punishment has been changed. You are condemned, not to death,
+but to imprisonment for life."</p>
+
+<p>Robeccal tried to smile. It was a joke, of course, but he did not like
+it.</p>
+
+<p>"My dear sir," continued Vidocq, calmly and politely, "You are a
+scoundrel, and you accepted a base r&ocirc;le. You think we have broken faith
+with you, but faith can not be kept with creatures like yourself."</p>
+
+<p>Robeccal protested and raved, all to no purpose.</p>
+
+<p>Vidocq went to the door and called; four men, each Hercules, appeared.</p>
+
+<p>"Take this fellow away," said Vidocq, "he is to go with the other
+prisoners to Toulon in the morning."</p>
+
+<p>Robeccal began to curse and swear.</p>
+
+<p>"You will gag him," added Vidocq, "it is better. Good-bye, Monsieur
+Robeccal, I don't think we are likely to meet again!"</p>
+
+<p>Vidocq looked on with a satirical smile while Robeccal was carried off.</p>
+
+<p>Some months later he endeavored to make his escape from Toulon, and was
+shot.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_298" id="Page_298">[Pg 298]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XLII" id="CHAPTER_XLII"></a>CHAPTER XLII.</h2>
+
+<h3>TO THOSE WHO LOVE FANFAR.</h3>
+
+
+<p>Night was coming on. The last rays of the setting sun shone on the water
+at Havre.</p>
+
+<p>Down on the shore among the rocks, was a fisherman's hut; in it was a
+man alone; he was restlessly pacing to and fro. Occasionally he stopped
+and seemed to listen, but he only heard the lapping of the water on the
+beach. Hour after hour elapsed; he seemed to be waiting for some one.</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly he started; he heard a stone fall. He went to the door and
+looked out. Two figures were to be seen dimly in the fog. He waited a
+minute, and then he said, "Whom do you seek?"</p>
+
+<p>A brief silence, and a sweet voice replied, "Fanfar."</p>
+
+<p>The two shadows were two women&mdash;Fran&ccedil;oise and Caillette.</p>
+
+<p>The young man seized a lamp and went to meet them.</p>
+
+<p>"But Fanfar! where is Fanfar?" asked Caillette.</p>
+
+<p>Presently other steps were heard.</p>
+
+<p>"Whom do you seek?" asked the young man, once more.</p>
+
+<p>"Fanfar!" answered a trembling voice.</p>
+
+<p>And under the yellow rays of the lamp two more women were seen&mdash;Ir&egrave;ne de
+Salves and Francine. <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_299" id="Page_299">[Pg 299]</a></span>When the latter beheld Arthur de Montferrand she
+started, while Ir&egrave;ne impulsively pronounced his name.</p>
+
+<p>They all entered the cottage, and looked around the room anxiously. The
+same name was on every lip. Fanfar, where was he?</p>
+
+<p>The night after Fanfar had been carried to the h&ocirc;tel Fongereues, a
+mysterious note had been sent to Ir&egrave;ne, to Francine, and Caillette.</p>
+
+
+<blockquote><p>"<i>To all who love Fanfar:</i></p>
+
+<p>"Repair at once to Havre. Go to the cottage of the fisherman Pierre.
+Wait! Hope!"</p></blockquote>
+
+
+<p>Similar instructions had been sent to Arthur, but to the questions
+addressed to him by these four ladies, he could only say that he knew no
+more than they.</p>
+
+<p>"We must wait," he said.</p>
+
+<p>"But Gudel?" asked Caillette. "Where is he?"</p>
+
+<p>"I know not," Arthur replied, "and yet I am almost sure that these notes
+are from him."</p>
+
+<p>Caillette went to Ir&egrave;ne's side. The poor girl loved Fanfar with all her
+heart, and she believed that he was lost to her, for if by a miracle she
+were to see him again it would be as Ir&egrave;ne's lover. But she accepted the
+sacrifice. She said in a low voice to Ir&egrave;ne:</p>
+
+<p>"I am glad you came, for you love him."</p>
+
+<p>Ir&egrave;ne pressed her hand; she could not speak.</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly Ir&egrave;ne started, her instinct had told her the truth.</p>
+
+<p>"And you," she exclaimed, "you also love him."</p>
+
+<p>The two girls embraced each other tenderly. All <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_300" id="Page_300">[Pg 300]</a></span>this time Fran&ccedil;oise sat
+perfectly silent, she was content now that Cinette was near her, but
+still she thought of Jacques with longing.</p>
+
+<p>Where was old Labarre?</p>
+
+<p>Arthur leaned against the window looking out into the night, and
+listening to the voice of the waters. He had long since discovered that
+he loved Francine, and he said to himself:</p>
+
+<p>"If I restore her brother to her, she may learn to love me."</p>
+
+<p>And now he waited anxiously for a signal, which would give him the right
+to speak a word of hope to this little group of friends. He uttered a
+little exclamation.</p>
+
+<p>"Come here!" he cried, gayly, "come here, and look out!"</p>
+
+<p>From among the dark waters rose a brilliant rocket which, darting
+through the air, fell in a shower of brilliant sparks.</p>
+
+<p>The three girls ran to the window. How long were those last moments of
+waiting. Finally the measured beat of oars was heard, the prow of a boat
+struck against the pebbly beach, and shadows were seen coming toward the
+cottage. The door opened.</p>
+
+<p>Ir&egrave;ne and Caillette burst into tears.</p>
+
+<p>Francine cried, "Fanfar! my brother!"</p>
+
+<p>"Zounds!" cried Gudel, "it was not such an easy matter getting here."</p>
+
+<p>Fanfar sank on his knees before Fran&ccedil;oise. "My poor mother!" he
+exclaimed.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_301" id="Page_301">[Pg 301]</a></span></p><p>And the invalid took Fanfar's head in her trembling hands, and kissed
+him tenderly.</p>
+
+<p>"And Bobichel! you here, too!" cried Caillette, overjoyed.</p>
+
+<p>Ir&egrave;ne went to Fanfar's side. "I have come," she said, quietly.</p>
+
+<p>Without leaving his mother he took the girl's fair hand and pressed it
+to his lips.</p>
+
+<p>Arthur began to question Gudel, and from him learned the whole truth.</p>
+
+<p>The friends, after Fanfar's body was removed, decided on reflection that
+Cyprien was the sole person who could aid them. At first he refused to
+give them the smallest information, but finally he was made to speak.
+They went to the H&ocirc;tel de Fongereues, but the sad party had left for
+Alsace. Two leagues away they were overtaken however. Labarre was told
+the whole truth. Fanfar was liberated, and restored to life by the
+physician whom Gudel had brought with him. The Marquis de Fongereues
+went on to the ch&acirc;teau with the body of the Vicomte.</p>
+
+<p>"And Labarre, where is he?"</p>
+
+<p>"In the boat waiting for us, but I have not yet told you all. We should
+have made an end of Cyprien, for he threatened to denounce us. The only
+thing for Fanfar is to flee the country. A quarter of a league from
+shore a vessel awaits us. Come, Fanfar, there is no time to lose, you
+know that you start for America to-night."</p>
+
+<p>There was a long silence. Labarre entered.</p>
+
+<p>"Marquis," he said, "it is time."</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_302" id="Page_302">[Pg 302]</a></span></p><p>There was a startled exclamation. Whom did he salute by this title?</p>
+
+<p>Fanfar rose.</p>
+
+<p>"Do not call me by this name. I am Jacques, the adopted son of Simon
+Foug&egrave;re."</p>
+
+<p>Ir&egrave;ne went to him.</p>
+
+<p>"Jacques," she said, "you long since bade me seek to make myself loved.
+Have I followed your advice?"</p>
+
+<p>"I love you," answered Fanfar, simply.</p>
+
+<p>"Do you wish me to become your wife?"</p>
+
+<p>Caillette uttered a smothered exclamation.</p>
+
+<p>"Fanfar," she said, "the lady loves you truly."</p>
+
+<p>The young man pressed his hand upon his eyes.</p>
+
+<p>"Thanks," he said, "your hearts are all noble and good."</p>
+
+<p>"Come one and all!" cried Iron Jaws, gayly.</p>
+
+<p>"Are you going?" asked Arthur.</p>
+
+<p>Francine replied with downcast eyes: "Can I leave my brother?"</p>
+
+<p>"Then I too will go," Arthur exclaimed, "I too will begin to take life
+seriously, if you will aid me."</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p>After the Vicomte de Talizac was buried, the Marquis disappeared and was
+no more heard of. Magdalena committed suicide. Bobichel married
+Caillette, whom he adored as much as he adored Fanfar. Fran&ccedil;oise and
+Labarre neither of them lived long. Cyprien continued to act as spy for
+the French government. And La Roulante was assassinated in a drunken
+frolic.</p>
+
+<p>This was the story of Fanfar, which we have com<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_303" id="Page_303">[Pg 303]</a></span>pleted, for Fanfar's
+modesty was too great to allow him to say what we have said for him.</p>
+
+<p>The party all went to Algeria, intending thence to start for America,
+but finally decided to remain where French activity finds such a wide
+field. They lived contented and happy, forgotten and forgetting.</p>
+
+<p>"And I am truly thankful," said Fanfar, in conclusion, extending his
+hand to Monte-Cristo, "that I have been permitted to utilize my former
+talents for your benefit."</p>
+
+<p>Monte-Cristo lingered a week or more that Esperance might recover from
+his fatigue of both body and mind, but the day finally came when the
+caravan started for France.</p>
+
+<p>"Monsieur Fanfar," said the Count, "are we never to meet again?"</p>
+
+<p>"Ah! who can say!" and Fanfar smiled. "I shall never forget my beloved
+France, and I am sometimes sick with longing to return."</p>
+
+<p>"Then, some day if I need you for the protection of my son, and send for
+you," said Monte-Cristo, "you will come?"</p>
+
+<p>"I swear that I will." And Fanfar laid his hand on the boy's head.</p>
+
+<p>"We will all swear!" cried Iron Jaws. "The son of Monte-Cristo is sacred
+to us. Who ever touches a hair of his head shall suffer."</p>
+
+<p>We have now to learn how Fanfar and his friends kept this promise.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_304" id="Page_304">[Pg 304]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XLIII" id="CHAPTER_XLIII"></a>CHAPTER XLIII.</h2>
+
+<h3>A LETTER FROM MONTE-CRISTO.</h3>
+
+
+<p>"<span class="smcap">My Dear Child</span>:</p>
+
+<p>"Twelve years have elapsed since that terrible day when, with the
+assistance of our dear friends in Algeria, I was enabled to save you
+from a most awful death. Since then many events have swept over my head,
+which is to-day becoming very gray.</p>
+
+<p>"I am over sixty, and yet I hope to do a little more good in the world.
+But I must hasten.</p>
+
+<p>"I have borne up against many misfortunes and great catastrophes, and
+one, even alone, prostrated me and deprived me of courage, and that was
+the death of your beloved mother. I realized then that I was only a man.
+I said to myself: 'Monte-Cristo, the color has fled from your cheek, the
+fire from your eye. You are in possession of old Faria's secrets and
+science, but you are powerless against Death. You have triumphed over
+Villefort, Morcerf, Danglars, Benedetto and Maldar, but you cannot
+triumph over Death! Remember that you are only a man!'</p>
+
+<p>"You were just sixteen, Esperance, when your mother was taken from us,
+and your tears fell with mine, but you said to yourself: 'My father
+remains!' But, my beloved son, something in that father died at that
+time, or rather, I should say that something was <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_305" id="Page_305">[Pg 305]</a></span>born&mdash;his
+self-confidence vanished forever, and doubt took its place. For many
+long years, my son, your father deemed himself master of his own
+destiny, and with a certain simplicity at which I smile to-day, he
+fancied that he could make all wills bend to his. From that moment
+wrinkles came to my brow and my hair grew white, and I cannot smooth
+away those wrinkles, nor can my will, strong though it be, bring back
+the color to my lips nor fire to my eyes. I have punished the
+evil-doers, but when I sought to repair the evil I had committed, I have
+not always succeeded.</p>
+
+<p>"I released the son of Merc&eacute;d&egrave;s from the fanatics of Ouargla, but two
+years later, in December, 1851, he fell, on the day of that
+'<i>attentat</i>,' which is not yet avenged.</p>
+
+<p>"Where is Maximilian Morel, where is the daughter of Villefort, the
+gentle Valentine, whose happiness was dear to me? Did not they all
+perish in the frightful revolt of the Sepoys in India in 1859? It is
+clear to me that my love was powerless to protect.</p>
+
+<p>"If I write this to you, my son, it is not with a wish to sadden you.
+But you are not only my son but my confessor, as well as my one joy and
+my hope. From your mother you inherit generous instincts and a spirit of
+devotion. From me you have received vigor and energy, but I trust that
+you inherit none of my pride.</p>
+
+<p>"When this letter reaches you I shall be far away. Yes, and I wish you
+to know why. There is a suggestion of weakness in your nature which I
+wish to eradicate. When you are with me you do not do justice to
+yourself&mdash;you are content to walk in my shadow and see life through my
+eyes. But I desire to remind you <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_306" id="Page_306">[Pg 306]</a></span>that you have arrived at man's estate,
+and that you must live your own life and think your own thoughts. You
+are free, you are twenty-two, and you are wealthy. You have, therefore,
+no reason to fear that any obstacles will be thrown in your path. You
+have no enemies&mdash;I have scattered them from your path. Think only of
+making friends for yourself. I have had prot&eacute;g&eacute;s rather than friends.</p>
+
+<p>"I know you to be sincere and generous. Believe and give. It is good
+sometimes for a man to make mistakes. True experience is made up of
+errors. Do not be afraid of their consequences. But, nevertheless, be
+cautious. Avoid the irreparable. To kiss is a crime, the only one,
+possibly, because it is the only one that cannot be repaired. If,
+however, you commit great faults, do not hesitate to acknowledge them.</p>
+
+<p>"Make your own way through life, my son. I have left you that you may do
+so. You have near you devoted hearts. Coucon will never forsake you. I
+have taken my old Bertuccio with me. I did not wish you to think that I
+had left any one to watch you and report to me. In case of danger,
+summon Fanfar.</p>
+
+<p>"Up to this time I feel that you have had no secrets from me. Your heart
+is free, let it be your guide. Remember that love, often great
+happiness, is more often great sorrow.</p>
+
+<p>"I love you, my son, though I leave you. I know not where I am going. I
+long to do good, and hope to find happiness.</p>
+
+<p>"Dear, dear child! Oh! how I love you!</p>
+
+<p>"<span class="smcap">Monte-Cristo</span>."</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_307" id="Page_307">[Pg 307]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XLIV" id="CHAPTER_XLIV"></a>CHAPTER XLIV.</h2>
+
+<h3>ESPERANCE.</h3>
+
+
+<p>The youthful son of Monte-Cristo was twenty-two years of age, and
+wonderfully handsome. His dark curls shaded a fair, white brow, and his
+eyes were haughty like his father's. His slender white hands were
+womanly in their delicacy. But we will examine his surroundings.</p>
+
+<p>Whenever Monte-Cristo established himself in a new home, the house
+became transformed as if a magician of the Arabian Nights had touched it
+with his wand. There was not a dark or gloomy corner to be seen. Lights
+blazed everywhere. The rarest pictures and choicest furniture were to be
+seen. Everything was magnificent and harmonious. The tall stature of the
+Count, his excessive pallor and the exaggerated attention he paid to his
+dress, added to this effect, as did the dark face of Ali, who,
+invariably draped in soft, white folds, stood like a bronze statue near
+the many colored porti&egrave;res. With the Vicomte, however, all colors were
+softer than with his father. The cabinet, for example, where we find
+him, was hung with gray and black velvet, and the rugs were fur, of the
+same soft gray.</p>
+
+<p>The Vicomte's dress was in no ways peculiar, though careful. He disliked
+anything that made him conspicuous. His face and his voice had a certain
+sadness <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_308" id="Page_308">[Pg 308]</a></span>
+that contrasted strangely with his name of Esperance.<a name="FNanchor_A_1" id="FNanchor_A_1"></a>
+<a href="#Footnote_A_1" class="fnanchor">[A]</a> Books
+lay open on the table before him; they were on philosophical subjects,
+heat and cold. Imagination had never touched him with her golden wand.</p>
+
+<div class="footnote"><a name="Footnote_A_1" id="Footnote_A_1"></a>
+<a href="#FNanchor_A_1"><span class="label">[A]</span></a> Esperance means Hope.</div>
+
+<p>Esperance was very pale as he read his father's letter. He extended his
+hand and rang the bell.</p>
+
+<p>Coucon entered, looking very differently from those old days in Africa.
+Not that he wore a livery, but his brown suit was simple and well cut.
+In his eyes, however, was much of the old fire.</p>
+
+<p>"Has my father gone?" asked Esperance.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, sir, while you were asleep."</p>
+
+<p>"Why was not I awakened?"</p>
+
+<p>"Because the Count forbade it. He simply said, as he went away, that a
+letter was to be given to you."</p>
+
+<p>"Was Bertuccio with my father?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, sir."</p>
+
+<p>"In what direction did he go?"</p>
+
+<p>"I know not, and I assure you that no one in the h&ocirc;tel knows more than
+I."</p>
+
+<p>Coucon was glad when this examination was over. Esperance was never
+harsh or severe with his people, but they never felt at ease with him as
+with his father. But in fact Bertuccio had given no hint of where the
+Count was going, and when Esperance was fully convinced of this he
+dismissed Coucon; but as the Zouave was leaving the room, the young
+master stopped him.</p>
+
+<p>"I want to say to you, Coucon, that I am fully aware of your fidelity,
+and that I trust you implicitly. You once assisted my father to save my
+life."</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_309" id="Page_309">[Pg 309]</a></span></p><p>"Never mind that, sir."</p>
+
+<p>"And if my manner is cold toward you, my heart is not. Shake hands with
+me."</p>
+
+<p>Coucon, greatly pleased, laid his huge hand into the delicate one of the
+Vicomte, who pressed it warmly.</p>
+
+<p>The Zouave uttered an exclamation.</p>
+
+<p>"What is the matter?"</p>
+
+<p>"Nothing&mdash;only&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Only what?"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, sir, you have a tremendous squeeze, I must say. Your fingers felt
+as if they were made of steel."</p>
+
+<p>Esperance looked at his hands in some surprise.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," he said, in a dreamy voice, "I am strong, I believe."</p>
+
+<p>"Strong! I should say you were."</p>
+
+<p>"I did not hurt you, I trust?" and Esperance still gazed at his hands in
+a troubled sort of way.</p>
+
+<p>"Where will you breakfast, sir?" asked Coucon.</p>
+
+<p>"In the gallery, I think."</p>
+
+<p>"And alone?"</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know; I do not remember inviting any one."</p>
+
+<p>Coucon departed, proud of the shake of the hand he had received,
+although he still rubbed his fingers to restore the circulation.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_310" id="Page_310">[Pg 310]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XLV" id="CHAPTER_XLV"></a>CHAPTER XLV.</h2>
+
+<h3>"WHAT WILL HE DO?"</h3>
+
+
+<p>Esperance was alone; his brow was thoughtful. He sank into a chair and
+buried his face in his hands. Suddenly he started up, and drawing aside
+the heavy porti&egrave;re over a door, entered a small, dark room that seemed
+to be an oratory.</p>
+
+<p>Stained glass windows admitted an uncertain light. Esperance threw open
+the sash and the daylight streamed in, and with it the delicious breeze
+of spring. Esperance turned to the wall, on which hung a fine picture of
+Monte-Cristo. Next this portrait hung one of his mother.</p>
+
+<p>The young man spoke aloud. "Father!" he said, "mother! listen to me,
+judge me and counsel me. Who and what am I? What is my future to be? Am
+I guilty or am I&mdash;mad?"</p>
+
+<p>Esperance shivered. Then throwing his head back proudly, he said, "No, I
+am not mad, and yet I cannot understand myself. Oh! father, why did I
+not have courage to speak to you frankly? You would have understood me
+and encouraged me. I am afraid of life, I am afraid of myself&mdash;afraid of
+the very name I bear, and of your greatness, the shadow of which falls
+on me."</p>
+
+<p>In the letter written by Monte-Cristo to his son, he <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_311" id="Page_311">[Pg 311]</a></span>had spoken the
+truth. He had not thought sufficiently of developing the especial
+characteristics of his son, and had made of him a philosopher.</p>
+
+<p>Esperance had been compelled to reason calmly on all subjects, and the
+inconsequence of youth had been frowned upon by his father.</p>
+
+<p>Edmond Dant&egrave;s had been young, vivacious and full of illusions and hopes.
+Monte-Cristo forgot this, and forgot that Esperance was but twenty. He
+had been kind and loving to Esperance; he had, as he believed, armed him
+for the battle of life, but he had extinguished his boyishness and
+engrafted the seeds of distrust.</p>
+
+<p>Esperance never accused his father, but the result of this education was
+that he was afraid of himself and others. Monte-Cristo saw his son
+silent and sad at times, but he did not realize that it was because he
+had quenched the youth in him and made him prematurely old. He moreover
+suddenly became convinced that it was best for Esperance to leave him,
+and therefore departed silently and mysteriously.</p>
+
+<p>Esperance was armed against the tragedies of life, but not against its
+daily annoyances.</p>
+
+<p>Esperance had enormous muscular strength, and yet he was weak to resist
+sorrow. He could have held his hand on a brazier of burning coals, but
+he would have started at a pin-prick. And now that Monte-Cristo had
+gone, Esperance felt like a child deprived of its mother.</p>
+
+<p>A bell rang, announcing a visitor.</p>
+
+<p>He passed his hand over his brow. Then addressing <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_312" id="Page_312">[Pg 312]</a></span>the dear portraits
+once more, "Beloved mother!" he murmured, "give me your enthusiasm and
+your delicacy, and, my father, give me strength and courage. God grant
+that I may be worthy of you both!"</p>
+
+<p>He went to the window, and gazed up at the blue sky with an expression
+that was almost mystical. Then he closed the room, and returned to his
+chamber.</p>
+
+<p>Coucon appeared bearing two cards on a silver tray.</p>
+
+<p>Esperance looked at the cards, and uttered an exclamation of joy.</p>
+
+<p>"Lay two more covers," he said, "I will come down at once."</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_313" id="Page_313">[Pg 313]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XLVI" id="CHAPTER_XLVI"></a>CHAPTER XLVI.</h2>
+
+<h3>FORWARD!</h3>
+
+
+<p>Esperance hurried down, and in the dining-room, a marvel of marqueterie
+and mosaic, was a young man.</p>
+
+<p>"My dear Goutran," he said, as the stranger advanced to meet him, "I
+cannot tell you how obliged I am for this visit."</p>
+
+<p>This Goutran, Goutran Sabrau, was a tall young fellow of about
+twenty-five, with blonde hair and a frank face. He was a painter, and
+had already attained some celebrity.</p>
+
+<p>"Upon my word, this is a welcome worth having," said Goutran. "But what
+is going on here, you do not look like yourself. Your eyes are much
+brighter than usual. Have you not some secret to confide to me?"</p>
+
+<p>The two young men took their seats at a table, laid with great elegance.</p>
+
+<p>"No. I have no secrets," answered Esperance, "and I am unaware of any
+change."</p>
+
+<p>"And yet the very tones of your voice are altered."</p>
+
+<p>Esperance interrupted his friend with some impatience.</p>
+
+<p>"Never mind that! I assure you that so far from having anything pleasant
+to communicate, I am out of spirits. My father has gone away."</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_314" id="Page_314">[Pg 314]</a></span></p><p>Goutran looked at him with some surprise.</p>
+
+<p>The intimacy between these young men had begun by Esperance wishing to
+buy a picture of Goutran's, which had obtained a great success at the
+Salon. The picture was of a gipsy girl playing a violin and dancing.
+Bertuccio went to the painter's studio, and offered an enormous sum for
+the picture, which was refused by Goutran. Accustomed to the
+gratification of all his caprices, he went himself to the studio. But
+the young man replied:</p>
+
+<p>"You offer me, sir, twenty thousand francs for a canvas for which a
+picture dealer would not give me fifty louis, and yet I refuse. At the
+same time I am immensely flattered, and feel that I owe you an
+explanation. The picture is dear to me for reasons which are neither a
+drama nor a poem. I had a friend whom I adored. She had an affection of
+the lungs and I often took her into the country. We were one day at
+Mendon when we heard strange music, wild barbarian music. We approached
+softly, and beheld through the trees a young gipsy girl playing a violin
+and lightly dancing as she played. We listened in astonishment, for the
+music was most singular. Suddenly I felt that my companion was clinging
+heavily to my arm. She had fainted. I seized her in my arms, and bore
+her away. In a week death was very near. Then she said to me:</p>
+
+<p>"'I must hear that gipsy again!'</p>
+
+<p>"I could not leave her, but I sent a friend to find this unknown girl.
+Each morning I discovered that the search had been fruitless. The sick
+girl said when <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_315" id="Page_315">[Pg 315]</a></span>I told her, 'Very well! I shall not die until she
+comes.' On the fourth day she half lifted herself from her bed
+exclaiming:</p>
+
+<p>"'There she is! I hear her!'</p>
+
+<p>"I ran to the window, and beheld the gipsy in the garden. How did the
+sick girl know she was there? The gipsy had not played a note. I could
+not refuse my poor Aim&eacute;e anything, and sent for the gipsy to come at
+once to the room where the sick girl lay. The gipsy began to play such
+soft, mysterious melodies. Poor Aim&eacute;e listened with a faint smile.
+Suddenly she drew me to her, kissed me, and died. This gipsy, sir, is
+the one I have painted. You see therefore that I could never part with
+this picture."</p>
+
+<p>At this time Esperance was doing his best to copy his father's manners.
+He was but twenty-one and he affected impassibility. He adopted his most
+phlegmatic English air, and replied to the painter:</p>
+
+<p>"Your story is most interesting, but I will give fifty thousand francs."</p>
+
+<p>Goutran was surprised and somewhat displeased. He repeated his refusal,
+and Esperance departed discontented with himself and with every one
+else.</p>
+
+<p>On thinking the whole affair over he was heartily ashamed of himself. On
+the third day he went to the studio, and, on entering, said simply:</p>
+
+<p>"For two days I have been uncomfortable. I beg you to accept my
+apologies for my ungentlemanly conduct."</p>
+
+<p>Goutran was an excellent person, he had early learned indulgence to
+others. He at once saw that <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_316" id="Page_316">[Pg 316]</a></span>this handsome young fellow was a boy in
+reality, with plenty of theories, but no experience of life. He
+therefore received this apology frankly, and talked for some time to him
+as to a younger brother.</p>
+
+<p>Esperance listened without a word. The distrust which was a part of his
+nature struggled against the cordiality shown by Goutran.</p>
+
+<p>Finally Esperance had a friend. To Goutran alone did he ever open his
+heart, and even when he had been with him for hours, laughing and
+talking with gayety, he appeared before Monte-Cristo as impassive as
+ever.</p>
+
+<p>Goutran did not attempt to penetrate the secrets of his life. He knew,
+however, that the day could not be far off when the butterfly would
+emerge from the chrysalis.</p>
+
+<p>"My father has gone away," Esperance had said.</p>
+
+<p>"Indeed! And where has he gone?"</p>
+
+<p>"I have no idea. He simply wrote me a few lines announcing his
+departure."</p>
+
+<p>Goutran did not think it worth while to be astonished, for this was a
+most singular household.</p>
+
+<p>"Then you are entirely your own master?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," answered Esperance, "I am free."</p>
+
+<p>"I have a favor to ask," said Goutran, after a minute's silence.</p>
+
+<p>"Ask it. You know every thing I have is yours."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes&mdash;another minute you would offer me millions."</p>
+
+<p>"No, I did not think of doing so. I am rich, I know, but it is not my
+fault. And I do not think it generous in you to reproach me with these
+millions."</p>
+
+<p>"I did not mean to offend you. If I needed money I would ask you for
+it."</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_317" id="Page_317">[Pg 317]</a></span></p><p>"Money! what is that? I should have only to fill out a check, you know.
+But ask me to fight for you, to be killed for you!"</p>
+
+<p>Goutran took the hand of the youth in his, and smilingly said:</p>
+
+<p>"Do you know, Esperance, the greatest sacrifice I can ask of you?"</p>
+
+<p>"Go on."</p>
+
+<p>"It would be to mount upon the imperial of an omnibus. Ah! you are
+astonished, and are asking yourself if I am not laughing at you, but I
+assure you that I am in solemn earnest. The truth is, Esperance, that
+you are not happy."</p>
+
+<p>"I assure you&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"No, you are not happy because you are hampered by conventionalities.
+You never were in an omnibus, I suppose?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, never."</p>
+
+<p>"When you wish to go out you ring the bell, and your carriage is brought
+round. If you go to the theatre a spacious <i>loge</i> is in readiness for
+you. You go into society&mdash;you are received with smiles. Do you know that
+a life like that would be my death?"</p>
+
+<p>"Why do you talk thus to-day?" asked Esperance.</p>
+
+<p>"I can't tell you why. The words come of themselves, but they express my
+feelings precisely. You millionaires know nothing of life. You are like
+a drop of oil in a pitcher of water&mdash;you do not mingle with the rest of
+humanity, and you are bored!"</p>
+
+<p>Esperance was annoyed that his mood had been so readily divined.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_318" id="Page_318">[Pg 318]</a></span></p><p>"But you have not told me what sacrifice you desired of me."</p>
+
+<p>"I did not say sacrifice&mdash;I said service."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, whichever it may be, I am ready."</p>
+
+<p>"Very good! You are certainly the best fellow in the world!"</p>
+
+<p>Here it must be mentioned that Esperance never drank wine. The table was
+supplied with several kinds, but, like his father, Esperance never
+touched them.</p>
+
+<p>Goutran poured some sherry into the glass of his friend.</p>
+
+<p>"I have come," he said, "to make a confession and ask a loan."</p>
+
+<p>He tossed off a glass of wine as he spoke. Esperance mechanically drank
+also.</p>
+
+<p>"This is my confession: I, Goutran, a painter, propose to give a
+<i>soir&eacute;e</i> to-morrow night."</p>
+
+<p>"You!"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, neither more nor less, and I intend to add to this <i>soir&eacute;e</i> a
+ball."</p>
+
+<p>"In your at&eacute;lier?"</p>
+
+<p>"Why not? It is not as large as the Square, to be sure, but it will be a
+success."</p>
+
+<p>"But what is the occasion of these festivities?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh! thereby hangs a tale. A great Italian lord was, when I was in Rome,
+extremely kind to me. He treated me like a son. He has come to Paris,
+and I must do something for him and for other friends. He is immensely
+wealthy himself&mdash;not to be mentioned the same day with you, to be sure.
+I intend to kill two birds with one stone, and invite my friends to
+send <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_319" id="Page_319">[Pg 319]</a></span>their pictures on exhibition. I need your assistance, and I need
+some tapestries."</p>
+
+<p>Esperance listened attentively, and did not notice that Goutran had
+filled his glass with sherry again.</p>
+
+<p>"I want my studio to be magnificent on this occasion, and as we artists
+are not rich enough to buy oriental hangings, we are all going to our
+friends to borrow of them. You have treasures of this nature&mdash;will you
+lend them to me? And the great service was simply that you should lend
+me some of those marvelous Japanese hangings of yours."</p>
+
+<p>"I regret extremely that you ask such a trifle at my hands, and now beg
+that you will grant me one."</p>
+
+<p>"What is that?"</p>
+
+<p>"Will you give up the arrangement of the studio to me? I will send men
+and all my Smyrna and India stuff to-morrow morning, and they will do it
+all."</p>
+
+<p>"No, no! Do you think I would allow common upholsterers to touch your
+treasures! I wish to mount step-ladders in my shirt sleeves, with a big
+hammer in my hand, and put them up myself."</p>
+
+<p>And, as Esperance looked at him with troubled surprise, Goutran
+continued:</p>
+
+<p>"My dear friend, open your boxes for me, let me select what I want. We
+two will study the effects, and then I will carry off a bundle in my
+arms with joy and gratitude. By the way, I shall expect you at my
+<i>soir&eacute;e</i>!"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh! you know that I always work in the evening."</p>
+
+<p>"What has that to do with it? You need not work unless you choose.
+Come&mdash;there will be ladies there!"</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_320" id="Page_320">[Pg 320]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XLVII" id="CHAPTER_XLVII"></a>CHAPTER XLVII.</h2>
+
+<h3>JANE ZELD.</h3>
+
+
+<p>A thoroughly artistic atmosphere was that of Sabrau's studio. There was
+not a picture nor a picture frame, a bronze nor a bit of china that did
+not attract attention. Uniformity had been carefully avoided&mdash;all tints,
+all forms, blended into one original whole.</p>
+
+<p>Goutran had arranged the place with his own hands for the f&ecirc;te, which,
+as Goutran said, had a double aim. He wished not only to return the
+princely hospitality he had received, but to make of the affair a
+private exhibition of the works of his young friends; he himself only
+hung his gipsy. Rachel Marstens, the great actress, assisted by Emma
+Bruges, consented to do the honors. Every artistic celebrity accepted
+his invitations. Even the critics came, and were amiable.</p>
+
+<p>Comte Velleni was among the earliest arrivals. He was a fine-looking old
+man, and extremely courteous to all the young artists, and as he was
+very wealthy, his compliments on their work excited many hopes. He was
+not alone. He was accompanied by his secretary, by whom the young
+painters were not favorably impressed. His eyes were deep-set under
+bushy eyebrows, his hair and beard were black as jet.</p>
+
+<p>"A bad looking fellow!" murmured one to another.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_321" id="Page_321">[Pg 321]</a></span></p><p>The age of this individual was uncertain&mdash;he might have been fifty. A
+deep scar ran across one cheek. His expression was crafty, his eyes
+shifting, and he kept in the background.</p>
+
+<p>There was a little stir when Monsieur and Mademoiselle de Laisangy were
+announced, for that same morning the official journal of the empire had
+announced the opening of the Banque de Credit Imperial, with a capital
+of sixty million. Monsieur de Laisangy was the director of this new
+bank.</p>
+
+<p>Goutran advanced to meet this gentleman with an eagerness that would
+have marred the interest which we feel in him had it not been explained
+by the presence of the charming daughter of the banker, Carmen de
+Laisangy.</p>
+
+<p>Goutran had painted Carmen's portrait, which had excited much
+commendation at the Salon, to which fact was probably due the presence
+of the banker and his daughter at this <i>soir&eacute;e</i>.</p>
+
+<p>Carmen had no mother, and she had been brought up somewhat in the
+American style, but as she was very beautiful and had committed none but
+the most trifling indiscretions, many things were overlooked in her
+which in other girls would not have been tolerated.</p>
+
+<p>The banker was an old man and excessively thin, he held himself with
+English stiffness; a muscular contraction affected his upper lip. He
+stood well at Court. He had, it was said, made large loans at the time
+of the <i>coup d'etat</i> in '51, and Bonaparte's accomplices called him
+their friend.</p>
+
+<p>"I am deeply indebted to you, Mademoiselle," said <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_322" id="Page_322">[Pg 322]</a></span>Goutran, "for your
+acceptance of an invitation which I was almost afraid to send."</p>
+
+<p>Carmen was very pretty, as we have said. Her dress was cut very low, and
+revealed too much of an admirably modelled bust. Her manner was not that
+of a young girl, it was more assured. But she was charming.</p>
+
+<p>She laughed, and said, in reply, "You are my especial artist, you know,
+and history tells us that even queens visit their painters&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"For example, the Duchess of Ferrara!" said a young man to a friend, in
+a low voice. He had caught her words as he passed, and hazarded this
+allusion, somewhat too broad, perhaps, to the visit paid by the Duchess
+to Titian, when she was painted in the costume of mother Eve. He
+undoubtedly supposed that the young lady would not understand his
+remark, and yet it was plain that she with difficulty restrained a
+laugh.</p>
+
+<p>She led Goutran to the picture gallery. "I am told," she said, "that you
+have two great surprises for your guests, to-night."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh! no; only one. You have heard of Jane Zeld, that marvelous bird who
+has come to us from Finland, Lapland, or some other place&mdash;we will call
+it Russia?"</p>
+
+<p>"But I was told that she had refused to sing in Paris at
+present&mdash;declined even to go to Compi&egrave;gne."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, but for you," and Goutran bowed low, "I have obtained what was
+refused to an Emperor!"</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_323" id="Page_323">[Pg 323]</a></span></p><p>He pressed Carmen's arm against his own, as he spoke.</p>
+
+<p>The girl turned and looked him full in the face for a moment. "Take me
+to my father," she said.</p>
+
+<p>Was it fancy, or did she emphasize the two words, "my father," in an odd
+sort of way?</p>
+
+<p>As in silence he obeyed her request, which though brief, was by no means
+stern, a singular scene was taking place.</p>
+
+<p>Signor Fagiano, who talked little, was wandering about through the
+salons. Suddenly he found himself face to face with Monsieur de
+Laisangy.</p>
+
+<p>Signor Fagiano started back, and half covered his face with his hand,
+but in turning to make good his retreat, he half stumbled and fell.</p>
+
+<p>The banker instinctively extended his hand to assist him. Fagiano bowed
+low as he recovered himself, and went into another room.</p>
+
+<p>There was certainly nothing very remarkable in this incident, but Carmen
+started and instantly hastened to the side of the banker, who seemed
+calmly indifferent to what had taken place. Seeing this, her anxiety, if
+she felt any, was dissipated, and she began to talk to Goutran.</p>
+
+<p>At this moment the footman announced two names: "Mademoiselle Jane
+Zeld!" "The Vicomte de Monte-Cristo!"</p>
+
+<p>"You see, I did have two surprises for you," said Goutran.</p>
+
+<p>But suddenly he exclaimed, "My dear Monsieur de Laisangy, you are ill, I
+fear&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_324" id="Page_324">[Pg 324]</a></span></p><p>"No, no," stammered the banker, "but it is very warm here, and I will go
+out on the terrace a while, if you will permit me."</p>
+
+<p>He left his daughter, who seemed to attach little importance to this
+sudden indisposition of her father's.</p>
+
+<p>Goutran went forward to receive his new guests. A murmur of admiration
+greeted the lady&mdash;Jane Zeld, the cantatrice.</p>
+
+<p>She was tall and slender, and dressed in black tulle with crimson roses.
+She advanced with a smile on her lips. She was young, not more than
+twenty-two, with dark hair raised over her brow like a diadem and
+falling at the back of her head in loose braids. Her complexion was
+clear but pale, her eyes were almond-shaped with long lashes and had a
+singular fixity of expression.</p>
+
+<p>Who was she? No one knew. She had appeared on the stage of public life
+in a singular way. There had been a fire about two months before at one
+of the theatres, and a musical evening had been organized for the
+benefit of the victims.</p>
+
+<p>Society, which likes amusements and is willing to be benevolent at the
+same time, had responded to the appeal, and on the evening of the
+performance the hall was crowded. The principal attraction was the
+return to public life of a tenor, who had had a fit of the sulks and had
+deserted the stage. He had promised to sing with the Diva a celebrated
+duet. When the audience had assembled a message arrived at the theatre.
+The Diva was ill, or pretended to be so, and <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_325" id="Page_325">[Pg 325]</a></span>now, at the last moment,
+announced that it was impossible to appear.</p>
+
+<p>This was terrible. The tenor was implored to sing alone, but he
+positively refused, and the non-appearance of the two stars made the
+affair an utter fiasco. Artists and journalists, director and
+secretaries assembled in the <i>foyer</i>&mdash;all talked together in their
+excitement. The tenor, half lying on a couch, caressed his black beard,
+while he listened with nonchalance to the entreaties addressed to him.
+But the moment was rapidly approaching when the fatal announcement must
+be made to the audience.</p>
+
+<p>Presently a voice began to sing the jewel song from Faust. The singer
+was at the piano in the <i>foyer</i>, but was so enveloped in black lace that
+she could hardly be seen. Her voice was so good, her method so perfect,
+that every one listened in delight. Even the tenor, for he was a
+thorough musician, was completely carried away.</p>
+
+<p>The lady finished the song, then rising from her seat she stood leaning
+against the piano without the smallest embarrassment.</p>
+
+<p>The tenor went forward. "Madame," he said, "do you know the duet we were
+about to sing?"</p>
+
+<p>The singer reseated herself at the piano and playing a prelude, sang two
+or three bars with exquisite expression.</p>
+
+<p>"Madame," began the tenor.</p>
+
+<p>"Mademoiselle," corrected the lady, raising her vail.</p>
+
+<p>"You have a hundred times more talent than Mademoiselle X."</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_326" id="Page_326">[Pg 326]</a></span></p><p>"We will not talk of her, and she must always remain in ignorance of
+this defection of one of her greatest admirers."</p>
+
+<p>But the feeling against the prima donna was that day of excessive
+bitterness, and every one agreed with the tenor.</p>
+
+<p>"Will you sing with me?" asked the tenor.</p>
+
+<p>The lady answered, "As this f&ecirc;te is for charity, I cannot decline."</p>
+
+<p>The director then said:</p>
+
+<p>"We will express our thanks later, dear lady; please give me your name
+that I may make the announcement."</p>
+
+<p>The tenor lifted his head.</p>
+
+<p>"I will lead the lady on, and that is quite enough."</p>
+
+<p>When the public saw that the singer was not the celebrated X. they were
+for a moment confounded, but the tenor was the guaranty, he could not be
+mistaken. The duet began; never had the tenor sang so well.</p>
+
+<p>The unknown was a thorough artist. She looked like a statue of Passion,
+as she stood at the piano, and her triumph was so great that it was the
+talk of Paris for three days. But the strangest part of all was, that
+after receiving this ovation she disappeared. The reporters could not
+find her. Finally one of them, more indefatigable than the others,
+discovered her in a small h&ocirc;tel on the Champs Elys&eacute;es. Her name was
+inscribed as Jane Zeld, from Russia, and she was accompanied by an
+intendant named Maslenes.</p>
+
+<p>The reporter, armed with this information, proceeded to concoct a
+legend. She belonged, he said, to <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_327" id="Page_327">[Pg 327]</a></span>a great family in Russia. She had
+left her home "for reasons which the <i>Journal</i> was not at liberty to
+reveal."</p>
+
+<p>For a fortnight, managers and directors were on the <i>qui vive</i>, but as a
+poetical personage of importance took this time to commit suicide, the
+name of Jane Zeld was gradually forgotten.</p>
+
+<p>When two days before his f&ecirc;te, Goutran received a perfumed note in which
+Jane offered to sing for him, he was charmed.</p>
+
+<p>The lady entered the room, followed at some little distance by
+Esperance, who had conquered his timidity and come. His father had
+bidden him "live," and the young man felt that he was in a measure
+obeying his order when he drove to Goutran's studio, where he arrived
+just in time to assist the fair stranger from her carriage.</p>
+
+<p>The horizon of Paris is so vast that there is always room for a new
+star. And Jane Zeld, even if she had not shrouded herself in so much
+mystery, and without a voice, would have been conspicuous for her
+beauty, which was of aristocratic delicacy. Her lips were like
+pomegranate flowers in their rich red. Her bust was discreetly vailed,
+her arms were beautifully rounded, firm and white, and terminated in
+exquisite hands.</p>
+
+<p>Goutran had begged Esperance to come to his f&ecirc;te. The Vicomte did so,
+and Goutran seemed to forget his presence. Only a few curious glances
+were turned upon him. All eyes were watching Jane who, too, seemed to
+forget the person who had so gallantly assisted her from her carriage.
+Every one was eager <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_328" id="Page_328">[Pg 328]</a></span>for an introduction to this queen of the evening,
+and when she went to the piano a great hush fell upon the room. She sang
+melodies, Slavonic airs, that had never before been heard in Paris, and
+then an aria of a great composer, and when she concluded there was
+immense applause.</p>
+
+<p>"Do you know," said a voice, in the ear of the host, "that you are a
+most eccentric person!"</p>
+
+<p>The painter colored deeply, for it was Carmen who spoke. Goutran had
+indeed behaved very strangely to her. He apologized in some confusion,
+his duties as host, his many interruptions, etc.</p>
+
+<p>"I forgive you," answered Carmen, "on one condition."</p>
+
+<p>"Any thing!"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh! I shall only ask a trifle. Can you spare me a few moments?"</p>
+
+<p>"Certainly."</p>
+
+<p>"Then give me your arm, and take me out on the terrace."</p>
+
+<p>"The terrace! How did you know that I had a terrace?" asked Goutran,
+astonished.</p>
+
+<p>"Pray do not be uneasy. I never visited your studio in your absence. I
+heard Monsieur Laisangy say, just now, that he would go to the terrace
+for a little fresh air."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," said Goutran, "your father came one day to talk about your
+portrait, and I showed him the place which I dignify with the name of
+terrace. It is but a small square of zinc, on which a few sickly plants
+are <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_329" id="Page_329">[Pg 329]</a></span>withering. It was not worthy to be shown to my friends."</p>
+
+<p>"But you will make an exception in my favor?"</p>
+
+<p>"Most assuredly."</p>
+
+<p>They crossed the studio. Goutran started. He had seen Esperance leaning
+against a door, pale and absorbed in thought. The liquid strains of
+Jane's voice had reached him here, softer and sweeter than ever.</p>
+
+<p>"Will you allow me to present to you the Vicomte de Monte-Cristo?" asked
+Goutran.</p>
+
+<p>"Is he the son of the celebrated Count?" Carmen replied, looking at the
+young man with curiosity.</p>
+
+<p>"Precisely, and one of the best fellows in the world."</p>
+
+<p>"Is that the reason you let him stand there all by himself?" she asked
+with an <i>&eacute;tourderie</i> that did not seem quite natural.</p>
+
+<p>"It is my misfortune to-night," answered Goutran, "that I am forced to
+neglect all that is dear to me."</p>
+
+<p>Carmen did not reply, but again she turned and looked him full in the
+eyes.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," she said presently, "introduce the young man, if you choose.
+Being both forgotten to-night, it is well that we should be together."</p>
+
+<p>Esperance looked up at this moment, and Goutran made him a signal.</p>
+
+<p>"Mademoiselle," said the host, "permit me to present to you the Vicomte
+de Monte-Cristo."</p>
+
+<p>Esperance bowed low.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_330" id="Page_330">[Pg 330]</a></span></p><p>"I think I have never had the pleasure of meeting you before, Vicomte,"
+said Carmen.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh! Esperance is a workingman!" cried Goutran. "He disdains our worldly
+pleasures."</p>
+
+<p>Esperance protested with a gesture, but evidently his mind was
+elsewhere.</p>
+
+<p>"I rely on you, Mademoiselle, and on your charming friends," continued
+Goutran, "to cure this misanthrope of his bad habits!"</p>
+
+<p>Carmen, probably displeased at the indifference manifested by Esperance,
+now drew her host away.</p>
+
+<p>"What do you think of him?" asked Goutran.</p>
+
+<p>"He is good looking, certainly, but I cannot judge of his mind."</p>
+
+<p>"He is entirely upset of late. I have just taken his education in hand."</p>
+
+<p>Carmen seemed trying to recall something.</p>
+
+<p>"The Count of Monte-Cristo is the person who met with such a series of
+incredible adventures, and is named Edmond Dant&egrave;s?" she asked.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, you are right."</p>
+
+<p>"And tell me, if you can&mdash;excuse the question&mdash;if Monsieur de Laisangy
+had ever any relations with him?"</p>
+
+<p>"Ah! that I cannot say. Your father has not been in Paris for some
+years, and the Count has been here very little of late. But I can easily
+find out for you."</p>
+
+<p>"No, no&mdash;pray make no inquiries!" said Carmen, eagerly. "But the
+terrace&mdash;where is it?"</p>
+
+<p>"Here it is!" answered Goutran, raising a curtain.</p>
+
+<p>The apartment that Goutran occupied was on the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_331" id="Page_331">[Pg 331]</a></span>second floor, and the
+terrace, of which he had spoken so slightingly, was draped with
+clematis, and commanded a beautiful view down the avenue to the Place de
+la Concorde.</p>
+
+<p>The evening was calm and the air delicious. Carmen certainly deserved to
+be called imprudent. She looked very lovely in the moonlight, and
+Goutran was young and passionately in love. Carmen still leaned on his
+arm. She murmured softly:</p>
+
+<p>"How delicious it is here!"</p>
+
+<p>He slipped his arm around her waist, and as she threw back her head to
+look up at the moon, Goutran leaned forward and kissed her. Let her who
+is without sin throw the first stone!</p>
+
+<p>At this precise moment a clear voice came from the garden below, and
+this voice said:</p>
+
+<p>"Do not be too anxious to learn my name, Monsieur de Laisangy."</p>
+
+<p>The two young people separated hastily. Carmen ran to the balustrade and
+looked over, but she could see nothing, and heard now only two angry
+voices disputing. Carmen went to the window, and opening it, said
+coldly:</p>
+
+<p>"We will go in, if you please!"</p>
+
+<p>As they entered the gallery, the Vicomte de Monte-Cristo hurried up to
+Goutran.</p>
+
+<p>"Come with me," he said, "I must see you at once!"</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_332" id="Page_332">[Pg 332]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XLVIII" id="CHAPTER_XLVIII"></a>CHAPTER XLVIII.</h2>
+
+<h3>A THUNDER CLAP.</h3>
+
+
+<p>Goutran was startled by the tone in which Esperance spoke. He hastened
+with Carmen to the music-room, and then returned to the Vicomte.</p>
+
+<p>"I have been very negligent," the artist said, penitently, "and I have a
+thousand apologies to make. And now, what may I do for you?"</p>
+
+<p>The Vicomte was very pale. He hesitated.</p>
+
+<p>"My friend," he said at last, "you have entire confidence in me, have
+you not?"</p>
+
+<p>"Most certainly. You have won both my esteem and affection."</p>
+
+<p>"And you think me incapable of falsehood?"</p>
+
+<p>"What a question!"</p>
+
+<p>"Then listen to me. I was standing in this spot just now&mdash;I had been
+listening to that girl's divine voice. You passed me and spoke to me,
+but I hardly knew what you said, when suddenly from behind that hanging
+came these words, distinctly pronounced:</p>
+
+<p>"Take care, son of Monte-Cristo, take care! You are walking into a snare
+laid for you. Take care!"</p>
+
+<p>"A snare! Who was it that spoke?"</p>
+
+<p>"I know not. I instantly drew aside the curtain, but there was no one
+there."</p>
+
+<p>"No one!" Goutran smiled. "But this is sorcery, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_333" id="Page_333">[Pg 333]</a></span>my dear fellow. You
+must have been dreaming. It was, of course, some illusion."</p>
+
+<p>"Illusion!" repeated Esperance, impatiently, "I tell you that I heard
+the words distinctly."</p>
+
+<p>"Then it was some one who, seeing you buried in thought, played this
+wretched joke."</p>
+
+<p>"That may be, but there was a tone of sincerity in the voice that struck
+me."</p>
+
+<p>"But there is no sense in the words. A snare! Who could spread one for
+you in this house but myself? Now will you, in your turn, tell me if you
+have absolute faith in me? I have been anxious to coax you from your
+studies and your solitude, and I was glad when I saw you come in
+to-night. Now, my dear fellow, dismiss these fancies. Take my arm and
+make a plunge into the furnace!"</p>
+
+<p>Goutran laughed as he led the way toward the room where Jane Zeld had
+been singing.</p>
+
+<p>"Can the snare," continued Goutran, "be found in the delicious tones of
+that voice, which has moved you so deeply? Those eyes are wonderfully
+bright."</p>
+
+<p>Esperance found himself near the piano. Jane had risen, and was
+receiving the many compliments of her admirers. She saw Esperance, and
+as her eyes fell upon him, Goutran felt his companion start.</p>
+
+<p>"Suppose," he said, "that I present you to our star? Surely she will
+exorcise your dismal thoughts. Mademoiselle," he added, addressing Jane,
+"one of your most ardent admirers solicits the honor of being presented
+to you."</p>
+
+<p>The two&mdash;Jane and Esperance&mdash;were now face to <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_334" id="Page_334">[Pg 334]</a></span>face. Esperance, pale and
+silent, looked at Jane, while she stood waiting possibly for some words
+of praise.</p>
+
+<p>The crowd swept on, leaving these two persons almost alone, and at this
+moment a candle fell from one of the chandeliers upon the train of
+Jane's black tulle, and shrieks from all the women rent the air. Flames
+threatened to envelop Jane. With a rapidity that was quicker than
+thought, Esperance tore down one of the heavy Eastern porti&egrave;res, and
+wrapped it around the girl. He did this so skilfully that in a minute
+the flames were stifled, and Jane stood, pale but smiling, as if she
+hardly knew the danger she had been in. She was magnificent, enveloped
+in this mantle that looked like a royal robe.</p>
+
+<p>Having accomplished his work Esperance drew back, like a worshipper
+recoiling in terror after touching the goddess.</p>
+
+<p>At this moment a man made his way through the crowd. He was dressed in
+an old-fashioned livery. His face was large-featured and solemn, but now
+contracted with terror.</p>
+
+<p>"Are you hurt?" he cried, as he reached Jane. Two persons started on
+hearing this voice&mdash;one was Jane. She colored deeply, and in much
+agitation answered quickly:</p>
+
+<p>"No, my friend, I am not hurt. It was a slight accident, and this
+gentleman saved me."</p>
+
+<p>Esperance started, because he felt sure that this voice and the one that
+had addressed to him the strange words he had repeated to Goutran, was
+the same. The man turned and looked at the Count.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_335" id="Page_335">[Pg 335]</a></span></p><p>"Who is this man who seems so interested in his friend?" asked some one.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh! he is the intendant&mdash;Master Jacques&mdash;who goes everywhere with Jane
+Zeld," answered the ever-present reporter, delighted to have an
+opportunity of displaying his erudition. "He is called Maslenes at the
+h&ocirc;tel."</p>
+
+<p>Jane turned to Esperance:</p>
+
+<p>"Will you kindly add to your kindness by giving me your arm to my
+carriage?"</p>
+
+<p>While the crowd, who had by no means recovered from their agitation,
+complimented her on her courage, Jane moved slowly from the room.
+Goutran made no effort to detain her, though he knew very well that her
+departure would be the signal for a general move, as it was long after
+midnight.</p>
+
+<p>Esperance tried to speak, but he found it impossible to say a word to
+Jane. The intendant preceded them. It was plain to the most casual
+observer that he had by no means gotten over his terror. His feet were
+unsteady, and his hands trembled to that degree that he could hardly
+open the carriage door.</p>
+
+<p>"Once more let me thank you," said Jane, softly. "We shall meet again I
+trust."</p>
+
+<p>Esperance, almost as if in a dream, bowed over her extended hand, and
+pressed a kiss upon it. The hand trembled, but it was not withdrawn too
+hastily.</p>
+
+<p>Then Esperance saw nothing more&mdash;neither the intendant, who lingered as
+if to speak to him, nor the coachman as he gathered up the reins. He
+heard the rattle of wheels that bore Jane away, and laid his hand <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_336" id="Page_336">[Pg 336]</a></span>on
+his heart to quell the strange tumult there. He remained standing on the
+pavement, blind to the curious gaze of his servants.</p>
+
+<p>"Are you going home sir, now?" asked his own coachman.</p>
+
+<p>"Ah! what did you say?" Esperance aroused himself and looked around.
+"Yes, I wish to go home." He took a step to the carriage.</p>
+
+<p>"If you will wait a moment, sir, the footman will go for your hat."</p>
+
+<p>His hat! Esperance did not know that his head was uncovered. He was
+amazed at himself, he felt a certain sense of shame.</p>
+
+<p>"No," he replied, "I will go for it myself."</p>
+
+<p>He went back to Goutran's apartment. As he passed through the vestibule
+he heard a sarcastic laugh. He was of course mistaken, for only Goutran,
+with Carmen, were coming down the stairs&mdash;Monsieur de Laisangy, Comte
+Velleni, and his Secretary Fagiano.</p>
+
+<p>"You have behaved like a hero, Count!" cried Carmen, as soon as she saw
+him.</p>
+
+<p>Her father at this moment had a violent attack of coughing. Through it
+all he said:</p>
+
+<p>"You have done well, sir."</p>
+
+<p>Signor Fagiano said in clear, distinct tones:</p>
+
+<p>"The Vicomte is a worthy son of his father!"</p>
+
+<p>I know not why, but these words sounded disagreeably to Esperance, who
+turned quickly. But Fagiano was in the shadow, and Esperance saw only
+his eyes, which were very bright. The Vicomte began to think his nerves
+were sadly out of order.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_337" id="Page_337">[Pg 337]</a></span></p><p>Goutran, when the door had closed on the last of his guests, turned to
+him and asked how he would like a little walk up the Champs-Elys&eacute;es.</p>
+
+<p>"Very much," answered the Vicomte, "I need fresh air."</p>
+
+<p>He took his hat from the hands of a lacquey, and the two young men
+walked off together. Neither knew that Fagiano had not driven away with
+Comte Velleni, but that, standing in a dark doorway, he followed the
+Vicomte with his eyes. Hissing through his close shut teeth, he said:</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, worthy son of thy father, I swear that I will have my revenge!"</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_338" id="Page_338">[Pg 338]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XLIX" id="CHAPTER_XLIX"></a>CHAPTER XLIX.</h2>
+
+<h3>HOW AND WHERE.</h3>
+
+
+<p>As the reporter had discovered, Jane Zeld occupied an apartment on the
+first floor of a small h&ocirc;tel, or rather, in one of those boarding-houses
+frequented by respectable people who come from the four quarters of the
+globe to enjoy the attractions of Paris. It was a most respectable
+establishment, with its iron gate <i>&agrave; l'Anglaise</i>, its well scrubbed
+steps, its parlor on the <i>rez de chauss&eacute;e</i>, and its three floors above
+all occupied.</p>
+
+<p>The lady who managed this enterprise was the widow of a captain. She
+wore English curls, spoke a few words in various languages, and had a
+marvelous ability for making out long bills. Her prices were high, very
+high, but the situation of her house was at once elegant and retired. It
+was a wonder that these items were not entered on the bill. She had
+never admitted any artists into her sanctuary until the intendant
+Maslenes one day offered her five hundred francs for an apartment which
+she usually rented for three, and no single women. Now Jane Zeld seemed
+to be a single woman, but Madame closed her eyes to this, and now that
+she divined a star in the future, Madame Vollard redoubled her courtesy
+to her lodger. She felt that she was a mine of wealth in the future.
+That night Madame Vollard had insisted on dressing Jane <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_339" id="Page_339">[Pg 339]</a></span>herself, and
+she had excellent taste. She spent a number of hours dwelling on the
+undoubted success of "the dear child," and it was two o'clock when she
+heard the carriage. She ran down the stairs, and when she saw Jane and
+her remarkable costume, she raised her hands in astonishment.</p>
+
+<p>"You have had a pleasant time, I trust!" she exclaimed.</p>
+
+<p>Maslenes gently pushed her back.</p>
+
+<p>"Excuse me, Madame, but the young lady is fatigued, and somewhat ill, I
+fear."</p>
+
+<p>"Ill! What can I do for her? I have camphor, lavender water&mdash;what shall
+I get?"</p>
+
+<p>Maslenes led Jane hastily to her room, saying as he did so:</p>
+
+<p>"No, no, it is nothing. To-morrow will do. She only needs rest now."</p>
+
+<p>Jane sank into a chair on reaching her salon.</p>
+
+<p>Maslenes closed the door, and stood motionless and silent until she
+should see fit to speak.</p>
+
+<p>How old was this man? Sixty probably, and yet his face was unwrinkled
+although his hair was perfectly white. His eyes were gray. He inspired
+at first sight a certain repulsion. There were indications of vices, but
+they were of vices that had burned themselves out, of passions that had
+crumbled to ashes. Now, as he stood with his arms folded on his breast,
+his face expressed something more than the interest of a servant in his
+mistress. In his faded eyes there was great compassion. His pale lips
+trembled. Jane did not speak. He said gently:</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_340" id="Page_340">[Pg 340]</a></span></p><p>"You are suffering?"</p>
+
+<p>She started as if from sleep.</p>
+
+<p>"No," she replied, "no. I did not know." Then she looked up. "Ah!" she
+said, "why did you drag me among these people? I will never go anywhere
+again. No, never!"</p>
+
+<p>The man bit his lips. "And yet," he said, "you were received like a
+queen!"</p>
+
+<p>"Why do you say that?" she asked, in a tone of great irritation. "Why do
+you try to awaken in me thoughts which should never be mine? A queen!
+I!"</p>
+
+<p>"But your talent&mdash;your voice?"</p>
+
+<p>"What of them? Ah! leave me. I wish to be alone!"</p>
+
+<p>She spoke with some harshness.</p>
+
+<p>He answered sadly enough.</p>
+
+<p>"I am always willing to obey you, Jane. Do not speak in that tone."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, I know that. Forgive me if I am cruel. Alas! You know what agony I
+hide within my breast." She rose to her feet as she spoke. "Why," she
+cried, "why did not that fire burn me to death? I should have suffered
+less than from this flame which devours my heart!"</p>
+
+<p>She leaned her head against the wall, and burst into passionate weeping.</p>
+
+<p>Maslenes, too, had tears in his eyes. It was plain that he cherished a
+mysterious affection for this beautiful woman, who was tortured by some
+secret sorrow.</p>
+
+<p>"Jane,&mdash;Miss Jane," he corrected himself quickly. <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_341" id="Page_341">[Pg 341]</a></span>"I have never seen
+you like this before. Some one must have insulted you!"</p>
+
+<p>His eyes flashed as he said this.</p>
+
+<p>"No," murmured Jane. "No, nothing of the kind."</p>
+
+<p>"Then you are over-excited by this accident. Pray, try and control
+yourself. I know that there are sad thoughts, which you cannot drive
+from your mind, but you are young; you have the future before you, you
+will forget the past. You must!"</p>
+
+<p>Jane dried her tears with her lace handkerchief, and her face became
+suddenly calm.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, I will forget," she replied, firmly. "You are right, I must do so.
+Forgive me!"</p>
+
+<p>She extended her hand.</p>
+
+<p>He hesitated and, drawing back, replied:</p>
+
+<p>"We will talk together to-morrow. You know that you may rely on me."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, and I am very weary."</p>
+
+<p>The intendant left the room. When outside the room, he caught at the
+railing, and with almost a sob, exclaimed: "How miserable I am!"</p>
+
+<p>"Well!" asked Madame, from the foot of the stairs, "is the poor child
+any better?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, thank you. There was an accident; her dress took fire."</p>
+
+<p>"What a pity! A new dress, too. But I can offer her another in its
+place&mdash;one that has just come into my hands."</p>
+
+<p>"You can talk with her about it to-morrow. At present I am worn out."</p>
+
+<p>He hurried to his room, which was in the attic under <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_342" id="Page_342">[Pg 342]</a></span>the eaves,
+furnished with the most excessive simplicity: an iron bedstead, a table,
+and one chair. A trunk with a large lock upon it was also in the room.</p>
+
+<p>Maslenes locked the door, and then dropped on the one chair the place
+contained. He sat for some minutes buried in thought.</p>
+
+<p>"What am I to do? What am I to do?"</p>
+
+<p>Then he rose, and opened the trunk of which we have spoken, with a key
+that he took from his pocket. He took out a bag, and a portfolio. He
+tried the weight of the bag and shrugged his shoulders. He then loosened
+the cord that held the bag together, and produced ten louis, at which he
+looked sadly. The portfolio contained three bank notes of one hundred
+francs each.</p>
+
+<p>"And in two days I have five hundred francs to pay, and afterward what
+is to become of us?"</p>
+
+<p>Then a long silence broken by the words once more, "Oh! how miserable I
+am!" He paced his room like a prisoner in his cell.</p>
+
+<p>"What am I to do? I am afraid to try anything. I might, to be sure, earn
+a crust of bread for myself, but what is to become of her? Poor Jane!
+and yet I would give my very life to spare her one pang. If she pleased
+she might, with her talent, be as rich as a queen, but she cannot forget
+the past, and that is my work!"</p>
+
+<p>He counted the louis over and over again. Suddenly he started. It seemed
+to him that he heard a sound without; he threw the bag and the
+portfolio <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_343" id="Page_343">[Pg 343]</a></span>into the trunk and locked it, then rushed to the door. On
+opening it there was no one to be seen.</p>
+
+<p>"Is there any one here?" he asked.</p>
+
+<p>There was no reply.</p>
+
+<p>"I was mistaken, of course."</p>
+
+<p>He returned to his room and there found that the sounds were repeated,
+and came from the window. He went to it, and looking out saw the
+outlines of a human being. No robber would have attracted attention
+thus. Nevertheless Maslenes took down a revolver before he opened the
+window.</p>
+
+<p>"Who is there?" he asked.</p>
+
+<p>"Some one who wishes to speak to you!" And with these words the person
+jumped into the room.</p>
+
+<p>Maslenes raised his revolver, but at this moment the light fell on the
+face of the unknown. He uttered a cry of horror.</p>
+
+<p>"You here! Ah! leave me, leave me at once, or I swear that I will blow
+out your brains."</p>
+
+<p>"No, sir, you will do nothing of the kind. It would be very inconvenient
+for you to find yourself with a dead body to get rid of. You would be
+obliged to give your name, and you certainly don't care for the police
+to put their nose into your affairs."</p>
+
+<p>And as the intendant did not reply, the new comer continued:</p>
+
+<p>"That is right! You are becoming reasonable, I see. It is really droll
+that we should meet again after all these years in this way!"</p>
+
+<p>He seated himself, and drawing out a cigar, lighted it at the candle.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_344" id="Page_344">[Pg 344]</a></span></p><p>"Now listen to me," said Maslenes. "Why are you here? Go your way, and
+let me go mine. I am doing my best to repair the evil that I have
+committed in my life. I do not interfere with you, and I only ask that
+you shall leave me alone. You call yourself Fagiano, and my name is
+Maslenes. Now, go."</p>
+
+<p>The other sneered:</p>
+
+<p>"You have become very haughty, convict Sanselme."</p>
+
+<p>Sanselme, for he it was, uttered an angry exclamation:</p>
+
+<p>"And you, Benedetto, are still the same scoundrel that you were!"</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_345" id="Page_345">[Pg 345]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_L" id="CHAPTER_L"></a>CHAPTER L.</h2>
+
+<h3>CATASTROPHES.</h3>
+
+
+<p>The two men started to their feet, looking at each other as they had
+looked when Fate and their crimes first brought them together. Yes, it
+was Sanselme, who had simply changed the letters in his name and become
+Maslenes, who now spoke to his former associate with such contempt.</p>
+
+<p>And it was Benedetto who sneered and laughed in the face of the man whom
+at Toulon he had almost hated. They neither of them spoke, but in their
+faces a strange transformation took place. Sanselme, first so bold,
+almost arrogant, by degrees began to hang his head, while Benedetto
+looked more and more triumphant.</p>
+
+<p>"Let us sit down and reason together," he said.</p>
+
+<p>"And why?" answered Sanselme, drearily. "You and I have nothing in
+common."</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know that!"</p>
+
+<p>"Listen to me for one moment. Our respective positions must be
+distinctly defined. Fate brought us together&mdash;Fate separated us. Neither
+you nor I desire to awaken all these terrible memories. I now bid you
+forget my very existence&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>He stopped short. Benedetto had laid his hand on his shoulder.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_346" id="Page_346">[Pg 346]</a></span></p><p>"And suppose I do not wish to be forgotten by you?" he said, slowly.</p>
+
+<p>Sanselme started and looked at him with a terrified expression.</p>
+
+<p>"I desire quite the contrary, in fact. I wish you to recall every
+circumstance of our former acquaintance, up to that night at Beausset&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"For Heaven's sake, say no more!"</p>
+
+<p>"I must, for I need a witness to authenticate certain facts. And that
+witness must be yourself."</p>
+
+<p>"You forget, I fancy, that were I to reveal the truth the scaffold would
+be your end!"</p>
+
+<p>"Ah! that is my affair, Sanselme. You have but to answer my questions
+truly. I rely on you, for really," sneered Benedetto, "you have quite
+the air of an honest man. You remember. Do you remember the night of the
+24th of February, 1839?"</p>
+
+<p>"Am I dreaming?" murmured Sanselme, hiding his face. "Can he really ask
+such a question?"</p>
+
+<p>"Do you remember the little house behind the church?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, yes, I remember."</p>
+
+<p>"A certain person of my acquaintance had a little business to attend to
+in that house. He was successful, and he carried off a million."</p>
+
+<p>"I know nothing about that!" cried Sanselme, eagerly. And then with a
+gesture of loathing, he added, "I never saw any of the money."</p>
+
+<p>"I dare say. You were extremely disinterested! I took the money and
+meant to get away with it quietly, but accident defeated this plan."</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_347" id="Page_347">[Pg 347]</a></span></p><p>"For God's sake, say no more! Have you a heart?"</p>
+
+<p>Benedetto shrugged his shoulders, and continued:</p>
+
+<p>"You know I heard two persons come up the stairs. I hid behind the door
+with my knife, and when the door opened, I struck at the first person I
+saw&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"And it was your mother!"</p>
+
+<p>"Ah! I see your memory is returning. Yes, it was my mother; but how did
+you know it?"</p>
+
+<p>"I had seen her in the gorge, and she had told me her story and implored
+me to save her son."</p>
+
+<p>"And did she tell you her name?" asked Benedetto, with some uneasiness.</p>
+
+<p>"She told me all, but I swore never to reveal it to any one."</p>
+
+<p>"And she believed in the oath of a convict?"</p>
+
+<p>"I have kept it, at all events."</p>
+
+<p>"You are a hero! But you can, at least, tell me the name."</p>
+
+<p>"No," answered Sanselme, with energy. "You are planning some new
+villainy. I shall not tell you!"</p>
+
+<p>Benedetto laughed.</p>
+
+<p>"You must think me very simple. I merely wished to test your memory. The
+name of this woman was Danglars."</p>
+
+<p>Sanselme uttered an exclamation. He had hoped that his refusal would
+frustrate some nefarious design.</p>
+
+<p>"Now go," he said, sadly. "You can have nothing more to say to me."</p>
+
+<p>"You are mistaken! One would think that you did not care to see me."</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_348" id="Page_348">[Pg 348]</a></span></p><p>"The truth is, Benedetto, that anything connected with the past is
+hideously painful to me. I wish to forget."</p>
+
+<p>"You wish to forget, too, that you once tried to kill me."</p>
+
+<p>"Let us say no more about that. Tell me frankly what you want me to do,
+and if possible I will do it."</p>
+
+<p>"You are becoming more reasonable, Sanselme. But what is that new life
+of which you speak so glibly and with a certain tenderness in your
+voice? Perhaps I can guess. She is pretty, that is a fact!"</p>
+
+<p>Sanselme started and took hold of Benedetto's arm.</p>
+
+<p>"Not another word like that, Benedetto! Not if you wish to live!"</p>
+
+<p>"Indeed! What would you do?"</p>
+
+<p>"My fate is in your hands," answered Sanselme. "You can at any moment
+denounce me as an escaped convict. Do what you please, but you shall not
+say one word of her who is in this house."</p>
+
+<p>"Upon my word, Sanselme, it seems to me that you carry matters with
+rather a high hand. Suppose I do not obey you?"</p>
+
+<p>"Then I will denounce you, with the certainty that my arrest will follow
+yours. You may laugh when I say that in spite of my shameful past I am
+to-day an honest man, devoting my whole life to a creature who has no
+one but myself in the world. If she knew who I was she would despise
+me."</p>
+
+<p>Benedetto listened with his maddening smile. Suddenly he said:</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_349" id="Page_349">[Pg 349]</a></span></p><p>"Have you pen, ink and paper?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, I have them. Why?"</p>
+
+<p>"Produce them. I will give my reasons later."</p>
+
+<p>Sanselme produced what was required.</p>
+
+<p>"Very good," said Benedetto. "And now take this pen and oblige me by
+writing a few lines."</p>
+
+<p>"What shall I write?"</p>
+
+<p>"I will dictate to you, that will be easier.</p>
+
+<p>"On the 24th of February, 1839, Benedetto, an escaped convict from
+Toulon, assassinated Madame Danglars, his mother."</p>
+
+<p>"But this is horrible! No, I will not write that!"</p>
+
+<p>"You had better do it without further objections. You can sign any name
+you please."</p>
+
+<p>Sanselme still hesitated.</p>
+
+<p>"No," he said, finally, "I refuse. I of course do not know what use you
+intend to make of this paper, but I know you. Some infamous machination
+is on foot which I will not aid."</p>
+
+<p>Benedetto smiled.</p>
+
+<p>"You are far from rich," he said, "for I was at the window some little
+time before I knocked. I must tell you that Comte Velleni's h&ocirc;tel is
+next this, and I had not the smallest difficulty in coming here."</p>
+
+<p>Sanselme glanced at the trunk that contained his scanty means.</p>
+
+<p>"Precisely," said Benedetto, "a few louis and two or three bits of
+paper."</p>
+
+<p>"I ask nothing from you."</p>
+
+<p>"But I offer these." And Benedetto took from an <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_350" id="Page_350">[Pg 350]</a></span>elegant portfolio ten
+bank notes of one thousand francs each, and spread them out on the bed.
+"Write what I bid you and this money is yours."</p>
+
+<p>Sanselme turned very pale. It seemed as if Benedetto was his evil
+genius&mdash;his tempter. He instantly realized what this sum would do for
+her whose welfare was his perpetual anxiety.</p>
+
+<p>"Will you write?"</p>
+
+<p>Sanselme dipped his pen into the ink and began. Some instinct warned him
+that he was doing wrong. He acted without volition of his own, and
+simply in obedience to another, it is true, and it seemed to him that he
+himself risked nothing, for he simply told the truth, and yet he was
+troubled. Had Sanselme been alone in the world with no one but himself
+to care for he might not have been so strict, for he had run many risks
+in his life. But he felt that this was something wrong, and that evil
+consequences would alight on not only himself, but her. The money
+fascinated him, however. He wrote a few words, and then, dashing down
+the pen, started up.</p>
+
+<p>"No, I will not write. Take away your money, Benedetto, it will bring me
+misfortune."</p>
+
+<p>Benedetto uttered a furious oath. Then seizing a pen he himself wrote a
+couple of lines. Laying the paper before Sanselme, he said, "You will
+write just what I say, or I will send this!"</p>
+
+<p>The two lines commenced thus: "She who bears the name of Jane Zeld,
+is&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>Sanselme read no more. With a cry of rage he sprang at Benedetto, who
+thrust him back fiercely.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_351" id="Page_351">[Pg 351]</a></span></p><p>"No more of this nonsense!" he said. "Either you write, or I do, and my
+words shall appear in three of the most prominent Parisian journals."</p>
+
+<p>Sanselme, with haggard eyes, did not seem to hear. Then suddenly he
+seized the pen and wrote what Benedetto required.</p>
+
+<p>"If I give you this paper," he said, hoarsely, "will you swear by&mdash;good
+heavens! He believes in nothing! What will he swear by?"</p>
+
+<p>"My dear fellow, I have not the smallest interest in troubling your
+repose. This is better than any oath," said Benedetto.</p>
+
+<p>Sanselme made no further resistance.</p>
+
+<p>Benedetto looked at the paper. "The fool has signed his own name!" he
+said to himself. "But it may be better, after all!" And in another
+moment Benedetto vanished through the window.</p>
+
+<p>Sanselme sat motionless for some time, then his wandering eyes fell on
+the bank-notes. He snatched them up.</p>
+
+<p>"We must fly!" he said aloud. "He knows all, and there is not a moment
+to lose. Jane&mdash;my Jane! Yes, she will consent, I am sure. We will take
+the seven o'clock train to Havre, and then will go to America. There she
+will lead a new life!" He looked around the room.</p>
+
+<p>"My baggage," he said to himself, "will not be much of a hindrance; but
+Jane must be aroused at once. What shall I say to her? What reason shall
+I give? Pshaw! she will require none. Besides, there is nothing to keep
+us in Paris."</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_352" id="Page_352">[Pg 352]</a></span></p><p>With infinite caution he opened the door and stole down the stairs,
+feeling his way along the corridor in the darkness, until he reached
+Jane's door, which he found open.</p>
+
+<p>Sanselme was aghast. The chamber was empty.</p>
+
+<p>Sanselme, with a frightful imprecation, rushed down stairs; the street
+door was open. Half mad, Sanselme went out into the street.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_353" id="Page_353">[Pg 353]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_LI" id="CHAPTER_LI"></a>CHAPTER LI.</h2>
+
+<h3>A SHOT FROM A REVOLVER.</h3>
+
+
+<p>Goutran and Esperance went out together from the little h&ocirc;tel in the
+avenue Montaugne. Slowly and without talking they walked on side by
+side. The moon had gone down; it was one of those soft, starry nights
+which are so delicious. The Champs Elys&eacute;es was deserted.</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly Goutran exclaimed, "It is best to go on with it, I am sure!"</p>
+
+<p>Esperance looked at his friend in surprise. "What are you saying?" he
+asked.</p>
+
+<p>Goutran laughed. "I was only thinking aloud," he said. "The fact is, I
+am attempting to decide upon an important question. To marry, or not to
+marry. What do you say?"</p>
+
+<p>"I know so little of life that I can give no advice," answered
+Esperance, "and yet," he continued, "it seems to me that no happiness
+can be so great as to spend your life in the companionship of one who
+will share your joys and your sorrows."</p>
+
+<p>"Then you advise me to marry?"</p>
+
+<p>"If the woman is worthy of you."</p>
+
+<p>Goutran had begun this conversation in a gay, familiar tone, but the
+gravity of Esperance influenced him, and he continued more seriously, "I
+wished to <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_354" id="Page_354">[Pg 354]</a></span>consult you, because I knew you to be a man who weighed such
+matters seriously. You noticed a young lady, to-night&mdash;but what is the
+matter?"</p>
+
+<p>Esperance had started. "It is nothing, my foot slipped. And this young
+lady?"</p>
+
+<p>"The pretty blonde is the one I mean."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh!" answered Esperance, with a sigh of relief, "I congratulate you,
+most warmly. You love her?"</p>
+
+<p>"I hardly know. I am attracted by her, I admire her beauty, the
+brilliancy of her eyes, her figure and her manner. Is this love?"</p>
+
+<p>"I have no experience in such matters, you know."</p>
+
+<p>"But you have instinct, which is worth ten times as much as experience.
+Carmen is an adorable creature, and when I am with her I can think of no
+one else. Twenty times this evening the decisive words were on my lips."</p>
+
+<p>"And why did you not speak?"</p>
+
+<p>"Ah! that is as much of a mystery to me as to you. A strange reluctance
+kept me back&mdash;almost a presentiment of evil. Do you know what I mean?"</p>
+
+<p>"I understand that. I have felt the same thing at times."</p>
+
+<p>"But to return to Carmen. Whenever I think of asking her to marry me, I
+feel as if I were deliberately inviting misfortune."</p>
+
+<p>"You are not well, perhaps?"</p>
+
+<p>"Bless my soul! How reasonable you are! No, I am well, I am greatly in
+love, and yet&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Upon my word!" said the Vicomte, "I can't see what you expect me to
+say."</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_355" id="Page_355">[Pg 355]</a></span></p><p>"I have not told you all, and I have an admission to make that is not
+altogether agreeable. The truth is, I was so carried away by Carmen's
+beauty, that&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"You became engaged to her?"</p>
+
+<p>"I kissed her, my friend, and I was not repulsed nor reproved. She
+considered the kiss given to her fianc&eacute;. And now, shall I marry her? I
+tell you, that even when my lips met hers, I felt more sharply than ever
+the presentiment of which I spoke. I know that after what has taken
+place I ought to apply to her father for her hand. Why do I hesitate? I
+cannot tell."</p>
+
+<p>"Does Monsieur de Laisangy inspire you with absolute confidence?" asked
+Esperance, after a long pause.</p>
+
+<p>The two friends had passed the Arc de Triomphe by this time, and entered
+the dark shadows of the Bois.</p>
+
+<p>"Monsieur de Laisangy seems to have an excellent reputation. Bankers are
+measured by a standard of their own, and public opinion is never very
+strict in regard to them. Monsieur de Laisangy is rich, but no one says
+he has made his money dishonestly. I know nothing of his past, but have
+never heard a whisper against him, and yet sometimes he inspires me with
+absolute repulsion."</p>
+
+<p>"My dear Goutran," said Esperance, in that grave, steady voice, which
+was so like his father's, "I am very young, I know nothing of life, I
+have never loved, but it seems to me that I could not speak as you have
+done, if I felt sincerely or deeply. I do not think I could analyze my
+ambitions so artistically." Esperance now began to speak more rapidly
+and with emotion. "To love is to give up one's entire being, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_356" id="Page_356">[Pg 356]</a></span>to live in
+another. You say that you love, that your lips have touched those of
+whom you have chosen, and that your heart sank at that same moment. No,
+you do not love Carmen de Laisangy!"</p>
+
+<p>At this moment both men heard the report of a pistol.</p>
+
+<p>"What is that?" cried Goutran.</p>
+
+<p>"Some crime, I fear," answered his companion.</p>
+
+<p>The two friends forced their way through the underbrush, Esperance a
+little in advance. Suddenly he beheld in an open space a prostrate form.
+It was that of a woman. Esperance rushed forward and lifted her from the
+ground. He uttered a hoarse cry. It was she whose life he had so
+recently saved&mdash;it was Jane Zeld. A small revolver lay at her side.</p>
+
+<p>Esperance, bearing her in his vigorous arms, made his way into the
+road.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_357" id="Page_357">[Pg 357]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_LII" id="CHAPTER_LII"></a>CHAPTER LII.</h2>
+
+<h3>"WILL JANE ZELD LIVE?"</h3>
+
+
+<p>Goutran had not seen the face of the burthen borne by Esperance, who had
+uttered no name, and whose movements had been so rapid that Goutran had
+some difficulty in overtaking him.</p>
+
+<p>Where did Esperance propose to go? He had not asked himself this
+question. Goutran ran after him.</p>
+
+<p>"Where are you carrying that dead body?" he shouted.</p>
+
+<p>Esperance stopped short. "Was she dead?" he asked himself. "No, no," he
+cried, "she lives&mdash;she breathes! She must not die!"</p>
+
+<p>"Do you know this woman?" asked Goutran. Suddenly he started back.</p>
+
+<p>Jane was still wrapped in the oriental stuff. He remembered the
+material.</p>
+
+<p>"Good heavens!" he cried, "what does this mean? It is Jane!"</p>
+
+<p>They reached the avenue, and looked about for a carriage, but none was
+to be seen.</p>
+
+<p>"Where are we to take this poor thing?" said Goutran.</p>
+
+<p>"To my rooms," answered Esperance. "But I am afraid she will die in my
+arms!"</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_358" id="Page_358">[Pg 358]</a></span></p><p>"I will hasten on and arouse the servants, and have everything
+prepared."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, by all means. I am strong, and shall be there almost as soon as
+yourself."</p>
+
+<p>In a very few minutes they reached the h&ocirc;tel, which Goutran opened with
+a key given him by Esperance. They entered the corridor that led to the
+rooms formerly occupied by Hayd&eacute;e.</p>
+
+<p>Esperance, with infinite precautions, laid Jane on the bed.</p>
+
+<p>The girl's hair had fallen loose, and its darkness made an admirable
+background for her delicate features.</p>
+
+<p>When Esperance saw this frail form thus inert, and the blue-veined lids
+closing the eyes, he yielded to his emotion and sobbed like a child. He
+was very unlike his father, and in these few moments he probably
+suffered more than his father had ever done.</p>
+
+<p>Goutran, in the meantime, had lighted the room, then coming to the side
+of the bed, he leaned over the girl.</p>
+
+<p>"Esperance!" he said, "rouse yourself, if you wish to save her!"</p>
+
+<p>With a violent effort Esperance resumed his self-control.</p>
+
+<p>"Ah! you are right, my friend. But if Jane is dead, I shall die also,
+for I love her&mdash;I love her!"</p>
+
+<p>And he uttered these words in a tone of such sincerity that Goutran
+understood the whole.</p>
+
+<p>"We must see the wound," continued Esperance, "for I am something of a
+physician."</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_359" id="Page_359">[Pg 359]</a></span></p><p>Goutran gently removed the shawl, and on the left bosom there was a
+small, dark spot. Esperance listened for the beating of her heart. There
+was a moment of terrible suspense. At last Esperance rose from his
+knees.</p>
+
+<p>"She is living," he said, in a grave voice. "Goutran, go to my room and
+bring me a small sandal-wood case on the chimney-piece."</p>
+
+<p>Esperance spoke now with absolute calmness. He was himself once more.
+When alone with Jane he took her head in his hands.</p>
+
+<p>"Why," he said in his low, harmonious tone, "why did you wish to die?
+You shall live, Jane, and nothing shall ever separate us more!"</p>
+
+<p>He pressed his lips to Jane's. This kiss was an oath. Would Esperance
+keep it?</p>
+
+<p>Goutran returned with the case.</p>
+
+<p>"Shall I not call some one?" asked the young man.</p>
+
+<p>"No, not yet," Esperance replied.</p>
+
+<p>He opened the box and took out an instrument.</p>
+
+<p>"My hand does not tremble, does it?"</p>
+
+<p>"No," said the painter, "it is perfectly firm."</p>
+
+<p>Then, entirely master of himself though deadly pale, Esperance probed
+the wound.</p>
+
+<p>Goutran watched every movement and studied his face. It was a strange
+scene. Jane, with her fair bosom all uncovered, seemed to sleep.</p>
+
+<p>"Goutran," said Esperance in a whisper, "the ball has not gone far&mdash;I
+can touch it! Give me the case again," he said presently. He selected
+other instru<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_360" id="Page_360">[Pg 360]</a></span>ments. "I have it!" exclaimed Esperance, and the ball was
+in his hand.</p>
+
+<p>As he spoke the kind face of Madame Caraman appeared at the door. For
+the last twenty minutes she had heard footsteps over her head in the
+room of the deceased Countess, which no one ever entered except the
+Count, and now she beheld a stranger on the bed in this sacred room.</p>
+
+<p>"Madame Caraman," said Esperance, "here is a lady accidentally wounded.
+I beg of you to take care of her&mdash;do all that her condition requires."</p>
+
+<p>"Poor soul!" cried the good woman. "What does it all mean?"</p>
+
+<p>"I am just about to dress the wound. Do not be frightened. One word,
+however&mdash;I do not wish any one to know that she is here. You will treat
+her as if she were my sister."</p>
+
+<p>"Of course, sir, of course, but am I to say nothing to the Count?"</p>
+
+<p>"He is away, I know not where. I desire the secret to be kept
+punctiliously."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, sir, on one condition."</p>
+
+<p>"A condition? And what may that be?"</p>
+
+<p>"It is that, like your father, you will call me Mamma Caraman&mdash;not
+Madame!"</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_361" id="Page_361">[Pg 361]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_LIII" id="CHAPTER_LIII"></a>CHAPTER LIII.</h2>
+
+<h3>JANE ZELD'S SECRET.</h3>
+
+
+<p>Sanselme rushed from the Maison Vollard. He seemed half wild with grief
+and rage. Where was he going? He knew not. Jane had gone without a word
+of farewell, and this man, whom we have seen unmoved amid all the
+horrors of Toulon, now wept as he ran. Whom should he ask? Two policemen
+passed, and, great as was Sanselme's terror of the police, he went up to
+them at once. Having by this time recovered his composure, he questioned
+them calmly. He was waiting for a lady, he was her intendant. As she was
+a foreigner, he was afraid she had gone astray.</p>
+
+<p>One of the men replied, in a surly tone:</p>
+
+<p>"If the lady has servants, how is it that she is out alone and on foot?"</p>
+
+<p>To this natural remark Sanselme had no reply ready. He had been guilty
+of a great folly. He realized this now, and felt sure that he would be
+watched. Jane had no acquaintances in Paris. She had been out but twice,
+once to the charitable f&ecirc;te, when she sang and met with such success,
+and the second time was that same night.</p>
+
+<p>Sanselme asked if Jane's mind could be affected. Could insanity come on
+thus suddenly? There was a <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_362" id="Page_362">[Pg 362]</a></span>secret in Jane's life, and he himself had
+seen her only a few hours before overcome with grief.</p>
+
+<p>Sanselme went up and down the Champs Elys&eacute;es for an hour. Suddenly he
+remembered that the Seine was not far off. Why had he not thought of
+this before? He hastened to the river side, but saw nothing to confirm
+his suspicions.</p>
+
+<p>We will now disclose the secret tie between this man and Jane Zeld.
+Fifteen years before, the convict Sanselme had witnessed a terrible
+scene in a cottage at Beausset, a village between Toulon and Marseilles.
+A son had killed his mother, and then departed, carrying with him a
+large sum of money. Bad as was Sanselme, he shuddered at this terrible
+crime. He had aided in Benedetto's escape with the hope of receiving
+part of the money, but he repulsed the blood-stained hand that offered
+it.</p>
+
+<p>"Be off with you or I will kill you!" he cried, and Benedetto fled. Our
+readers will remember how he was finally thrown up by the sea on the
+island of Monte-Cristo.</p>
+
+<p>Sanselme remained alone with the corpse. The sun rose, and finally a ray
+crept over the face of the dead woman. Sanselme started. Perhaps she is
+not dead after all. He stooped and lifted her from the floor. Should he
+call for assistance? To do so was to deliver himself up as an escaped
+convict. And this was not all. He would be suspected of the murder. He
+would be led not to the galleys but to the scaffold.</p>
+
+<p>"It would be useless for me to make any denial."</p>
+
+<p>Still his humanity was large enough to induce him <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_363" id="Page_363">[Pg 363]</a></span>to run the risk, and
+he would probably have called for assistance had he not at that moment
+heard the sound of wheels. It was the priest returning home. Sanselme
+breathed a sigh of relief. Now he would have the aid he required. He
+would wait until the priest came up. The outer door stood wide open. It
+was through this door that Benedetto had fled. Sanselme heard the priest
+utter an exclamation of surprise, and then he went to his servant's
+door, and knowing her deafness knocked and called loudly to her to
+awake. This was Sanselme's salvation. He leaned from the window and
+caught a branch from the tree by which Benedetto had clambered to the
+upper room. This done, it was easy for Sanselme then to drop to the
+ground. He ran around the house instantly. He was saved. He hastily
+decided that Benedetto had taken the shortest road to the sea, and that
+he himself would try to get out of France by the eastern frontier.</p>
+
+<p>We will not dwell on all he endured. But a month later, Sanselme,
+completely changed in appearance, entered Switzerland, going thence to
+Germany. Intelligent and active, he had no difficulty in obtaining
+employment. And Benedetto's crime seemed to have had a marvelous effect
+upon him. He seemed resolved upon repentance. For ten years, utilizing
+his acquaintance with foreign languages, Maslenes&mdash;he had taken this
+name&mdash;lived quietly in Munich. Not the smallest indiscretion on his part
+attracted the attention of the police. He was almost happy with these
+children about him, his pupils; but he was alone in his so-called home,
+and all at once a great longing came over him to <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_364" id="Page_364">[Pg 364]</a></span>see France once more.
+He was well aware that it would be a great imprudence on his part to
+return to his native land; he might be recognized, or some chance might
+reveal his past.</p>
+
+<p>Nevertheless, he went. Ten years had elapsed since he crossed the
+frontier. He went first to Lyons, not daring to attempt Paris, although
+he chose a large city, believing that there he would incur less risk of
+being recognized. He had saved some money, and thought he could teach
+again. He had not been six months in Lyons before he was known as the
+good Monsieur Maslenes, and was liked by every one. He led the most
+regular life that could be imagined, and no one would have suspected
+that this stout, placid-looking person could be an escaped convict. He
+fully intended to live and die thus in obscurity, and really enjoyed the
+torpor of this existence. In the evening he took long walks, and from
+motives of prudence went out but little by daylight. Alone in the
+darkness, he often felt intense remorse, and remorse is not a pleasing
+companion.</p>
+
+<p>One winter's night&mdash;the snow had been falling all day&mdash;Sanselme stayed
+out later than usual. The cold was sharp and there was no moon. Suddenly
+he heard an angry discussion across the street. Coarse voices and then a
+woman's tone of appeal. Sanselme did not linger, he had made it a rule
+never to interfere in quarrels. He feared any complication which should
+compromise him. But as he hurried on, he heard a wild cry for help.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_365" id="Page_365">[Pg 365]</a></span></p><p>"Oh! leave my child!" the woman cried. "Help! Help!"</p>
+
+<p>Sanselme forgot all his prudence and ran in the direction of the cries.
+He found a woman struggling with three drunken men, trying to tear from
+them a young girl about thirteen, simply dressed. The girl was
+struggling, but oddly enough she did not utter a sound.</p>
+
+<p>"Don't put on these airs, Zelda," said one of the ruffians, "let the
+little girl have a fling too. You have had yours."</p>
+
+<p>In her struggle the girl dropped a box she carried. Tulles and laces
+were scattered over the ground. She saw Sanselme, and then for the first
+time she screamed for help. Then with one blow Sanselme felled the man
+who held the girl. He fell stunned to the ground. The child was free,
+and the two remaining scoundrels turned their attention to the defender.
+They were stout, strong fellows, with well-developed muscles, but they
+were no match for Sanselme. He hurled one against the wall and the other
+into the middle of the street.</p>
+
+<p>"Be off with you!" said Sanselme.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh! thank you, sir. But my mother, my poor mother!"</p>
+
+<p>The woman had sunk upon the snow exhausted. The girl endeavored to lift
+her.</p>
+
+<p>"Let me," said Sanselme. "Do you live far from here?"</p>
+
+<p>This question, though so simple, seemed to agitate the girl. Sanselme
+now held her mother in his arms.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_366" id="Page_366">[Pg 366]</a></span></p><p>"Well! Where am I to go?"</p>
+
+<p>She answered slowly:</p>
+
+<p>"Two steps from there. The Rue Travehefoin."</p>
+
+<p>"I don't think I know the street."</p>
+
+<p>"Very possibly," stammered the girl. "I will show you the way."</p>
+
+<p>She had returned the laces to the box, and then with a determined step
+led the way. A few feet from the Quai, where this scene had taken place,
+there was at this time a network of narrow, dark and wretched streets.
+It was in fact regarded as the worst part of the town. Sanselme did not
+care for this. He was happy that he had done some good at last. The girl
+turned into a lane that was very dark, in spite of the street lamp
+burning at the further end. The girl finally stopped before a tall
+house, from which came shouts of laughter and singing. The door was not
+close shut and the girl pushed it open. A stout woman stood just within.</p>
+
+<p>"Upon my word!" she cried. "Did Zelda need two hours to&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"My mother is dying," said the child, as she held the door wide open.</p>
+
+<p>Sanselme appeared, carrying the inanimate form.</p>
+
+<p>"Drunk again!" cried the stout woman.</p>
+
+<p>"This woman is ill," answered Sanselme, roughly, who now understood the
+kind of a place he was in. "Get out of my way!" he added.</p>
+
+<p>"Ill! Oh! what stuff. Come on, though. I will see to this to-morrow!"</p>
+
+<p>And she took down a lantern from the wall and led <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_367" id="Page_367">[Pg 367]</a></span>the way up the
+creaking stairs. Two or three men came out of the lower room at the same
+moment.</p>
+
+<p>"Is that Zelda?" they shouted. "Send her here to sing for us."</p>
+
+<p>But the stout woman opened a door and Sanselme laid his burden on the
+bed. It was a sordid room in which he found himself. On the dirty walls
+hung some colored prints of doubtful propriety. On one was a dark stain,
+as if a glass of wine had been thrown upon it.</p>
+
+<p>"Let me take off the quilt," said the woman, extending her hand to
+remove the ragged covering on the bed.</p>
+
+<p>Sanselme, filled with disgust at her cupidity, answered:</p>
+
+<p>"Let everything alone. I will pay whatever is necessary."</p>
+
+<p>"Very good, sir; if you answer for it, that's all right."</p>
+
+<p>"And now I want a physician," he added.</p>
+
+<p>"A physician! Oh, that is nonsense. You must not be taken in in this
+way. She goes out every evening for her daughter, who is apprenticed to
+a milliner, and this time she took a drop too much, that is all!"</p>
+
+<p>A bitter sob was heard from the girl, who sat with her hands covering
+her face.</p>
+
+<p>Sanselme pitied the poor child. He took a twenty franc piece from his
+pocket.</p>
+
+<p>"I want a doctor," he said, "and pray make haste."</p>
+
+<p>"Very good, sir, since I see you are willing to pay him, and that it
+won't be left for me to do."</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_368" id="Page_368">[Pg 368]</a></span></p><p>Sanselme was left alone with these two women. He was greatly annoyed
+that accident had brought him to such a house, and was half tempted to
+fly. He had done his duty and had defended the two women from their
+assailants. What more had he to do here?</p>
+
+<p>The merest trifle would compromise his position, for Lyons, though a
+large city, is but a village; every trifle becomes known, and is
+commented upon and exaggerated.</p>
+
+<p>He stood twisting his hat in his hands. Presently, with an air of
+decision, he tossed it on a chair.</p>
+
+<p>"It won't do to be cowardly!" he said, half aloud.</p>
+
+<p>This man, who had been so vicious, was now eager to do good. He must see
+the physician. But could he do nothing while awaiting his arrival?
+Whatever were the errors of this poor creature, she was a woman, and
+suffering. He did not know what she required. He turned to the girl.</p>
+
+<p>"Mademoiselle!" he said, making his voice as gentle and paternal as
+possible.</p>
+
+<p>She looked up, and for the first time he saw her. She was absolutely
+adorable, with her glossy, dark hair carried back plainly from her fair
+brow. How old was she? Sixteen, perhaps, but so slender that she looked
+younger.</p>
+
+<p>"You must unfasten your mother's dress," said Sanselme, "that she may
+have air."</p>
+
+<p>The girl looked at him as if she did not understand him. Oh! what shame
+and humiliation were in that young heart!</p>
+
+<p>Sanselme understood, for he said:</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_369" id="Page_369">[Pg 369]</a></span></p><p>"She is your mother, I believe?"</p>
+
+<p>She rose quickly and went to the bed, and leaning over the woman, kissed
+her brow. This was her answer to Sanselme's question. She then loosened
+the sick woman's garments. Feeling her child's hands, and able to
+breathe better, the woman said:</p>
+
+<p>"Do not touch me; I am in agony!"</p>
+
+<p>That was the beginning of delirium.</p>
+
+<p>"I am cold!" she cried. "Why do you put ice on my feet?" and she started
+up so suddenly that her daughter could not hold her.</p>
+
+<p>"Help me, sir," the girl cried to Sanselme.</p>
+
+<p>He ran to her assistance. He was astonished to see that the woman was
+not more than thirty-five, but her eyes were haggard, and she bore the
+marks of precocious old age.</p>
+
+<p>She uttered a shriek so wild and despairing that it curdled the blood in
+Sanselme's veins, and as he looked her full in the face, he trembled
+from head to foot.</p>
+
+<p>The doors opened; it was the physician, who looked utterly disgusted
+that he should have been called to such a place. He entered noisily,
+without removing his hat, and as he caught sight of the sick woman,
+looking like an inspired Pythoness, he said roughly:</p>
+
+<p>"Come, now, lie down."</p>
+
+<p>She looked at him with evident terror, and then, docile as a child, she
+lay down on the bed.</p>
+
+<p>The physician made a rapid examination.</p>
+
+<p>"There is nothing to be done," he said; "this woman is at the end of her
+rope."</p>
+
+<p>"For Heaven's sake, sir, be quiet!" whispered <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_370" id="Page_370">[Pg 370]</a></span>Sanselme, angrily. "The
+woman hears you, and you will kill her!"</p>
+
+<p>The Doctor took off his spectacles and closed them with a snap; then
+looking at Sanselme from head to foot, he said:</p>
+
+<p>"You are much interested in Madame. A relative, I presume?"</p>
+
+<p>"That is none of your affairs, sir. I beg you to confine yourself to
+writing your prescriptions, and I will see that you are paid."</p>
+
+<p>The physician was impressed by the tone in which these words were
+uttered. He wrote the prescription and went away. Then Sanselme said he
+would go for the medicine. He was absolutely livid and could hardly
+stand. He returned in twenty minutes, and met the mistress of the house
+on the street, where she was waiting.</p>
+
+<p>"Look here!" she said; "I don't like all this in my house, and I am
+going to bundle Zelda off to the Hospital. I don't want her to die
+here."</p>
+
+<p>Sanselme hardly heard her.</p>
+
+<p>"Tell me," he said, hastily, "what this woman's name is."</p>
+
+<p>"That is easy enough; I have her papers. It is something like Zeld, and
+we have got to calling her Zelda&mdash;it is more taking, you know."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, I see; but do you know anything of her past?"</p>
+
+<p>"Not much."</p>
+
+<p>"She has a daughter?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, which is not at all pleasant for us. Of course, the child can't
+live here; she stays across the street. <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_371" id="Page_371">[Pg 371]</a></span>Zelda goes every night to the
+shop for her. It is nonsense, of course, for she will go the same way as
+her mother in the end."</p>
+
+<p>"Will you show me the papers?" asked Sanselme, "and I will do all I can
+for this woman."</p>
+
+<p>"Help me to get rid of her! That is all I ask."</p>
+
+<p>"Rely on me."</p>
+
+<p>Sanselme presently had the papers in his hands. The sick woman's name
+was Jane Zeld. She came from a little village in Switzerland, near
+Zurich. There was also a paper dated many years since, signed by her
+father, authorizing her to reside in the Commune of Selzheim, in Alsace.
+Sanselme turned sick and dizzy; he caught at the wall for support.</p>
+
+<p>"What on earth is the matter?" asked the old woman.</p>
+
+<p>He stammered a few incoherent words. Then in a measure recovering
+himself, he said:</p>
+
+<p>"I give you my word that I will take her away in the morning."</p>
+
+<p>"But if she should die in the night! However, I am too kind-hearted for
+my own good. She may stay here to night. But who will take care of her?"</p>
+
+<p>"I will," answered Sanselme; "but I must beg that you will take her
+daughter out of the room."</p>
+
+<p>"I can give her a bed in the closet next her mother's room. But you know
+if it were known, I should get into trouble, because she's a minor."</p>
+
+<p>They returned to the sick room. Zelda seemed calmer. The daughter was
+crouched upon the floor at the side of the bed. Sanselme spoke to her
+gently.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_372" id="Page_372">[Pg 372]</a></span></p><p>"My child," he said, "I will take care of your mother to-night. You are
+tired, and a room is ready for you."</p>
+
+<p>"No! no!" cried the child. "I cannot stay here to-night, unless I am in
+my mother's room."</p>
+
+<p>And she looked so horrified that Sanselme was silent. He realized what
+this young creature must feel at the terrible life led by her mother.
+When the girl understood that the room she was to have could be reached
+only through that occupied by her mother, she said no more, but she
+seemed to shrink from the very air she breathed.</p>
+
+<p>The unhappy Zelda had fallen into a state of prostration, that rendered
+her unconscious of all that was going on about her. Her daughter went to
+her side.</p>
+
+<p>"Do not disturb her," said Sanselme, "she is asleep."</p>
+
+<p>For the first time the girl looked him full in the face. "You are very
+kind," she said. "You knew my mother then?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh! no," answered Sanselme, eagerly, "but you are very tired, and some
+one must stay with her to-night."</p>
+
+<p>He spoke with a certain hesitation, as if he were telling a falsehood.
+The girl was too innocent to notice this manner.</p>
+
+<p>"If my mother wakes you will call me. Poor mamma! she is so kind."</p>
+
+<p>"I will call you, I give you my word," Sanselme answered.</p>
+
+<p>And the girl left the room, and in some ten minutes <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_373" id="Page_373">[Pg 373]</a></span>Sanselme heard her
+regular breathing; tired Nature asserted herself.</p>
+
+<p>Then he turned to the bed. From the rooms below came shrill laughter and
+the rattle of glasses. They cared little down there whether this poor
+creature lived or died. She was dying, of this Sanselme felt sure. He
+began to walk up and down the room, occasionally stopping at the side of
+the bed, as if seeking to discover in this pale, drawn face some
+forgotten image.</p>
+
+<p>It was very cold, and the light was dim; by degrees the house became
+quiet. He sat in the one chair in the room buried in thought. Suddenly
+the sick woman began to toss on her bed. He went to her, and said,
+gently, "Are you in pain?"</p>
+
+<p>"No."</p>
+
+<p>"Then try to sleep."</p>
+
+<p>"Sleep!" repeated the poor creature, and then, without any apparent
+reason, she said to herself, over and over again, "Accursed! Accursed!"</p>
+
+<p>Then she began to whisper. She raised herself in her bed, and was
+terrible to look upon. "I was a good girl," she said, "more than that, I
+was an innocent one. I used to go to confession. I was told to do so."</p>
+
+<p>Sanselme listened with beads of sweat on his brow. He determined to
+drink the cup to the dregs. "Yes," he said, "go on. It was at Selzheim."</p>
+
+<p>"Selzheim! yes. Oh! how sweet it was there. There was a mountain, and a
+lovely brook where I bathed my feet when I was a little thing."</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_374" id="Page_374">[Pg 374]</a></span></p><p>"And a Square and a fountain," whispered Sanselme.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, how gay it was there, when we all played together. And then he
+came, all in black. We thought him so kind and good. He was the cur&eacute;,
+you know."</p>
+
+<p>Sanselme started back.</p>
+
+<p>"And when he said to me, 'Jane, why do you not come to confession?' I
+told him the truth, and said it was because I had nothing to confess."</p>
+
+<p>"Go on! go on!" said Sanselme.</p>
+
+<p>Further doubt was impossible, he was himself the infamous priest. He
+fell on his knees, and sobbed and wept.</p>
+
+<p>The dying woman continued: "I went to confession as the cur&eacute; bade me,
+and&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>But we will not dwell on this terrible story as told by these dying
+lips. The priest abused his trust. His superiors knew the truth, but
+with that <i>esprit de corps</i>, which is in fact complicity, simply removed
+him and avoided all open scandal. His victim remained in the village.
+And because of his crime, she was condemned and despised. She was driven
+away, and gave birth to her child. And then, to live and to give bread
+to this child, she had become what she was.</p>
+
+<p>Sanselme took the hand of the dying woman.</p>
+
+<p>"And the child?" he asked. "Where is she?"</p>
+
+<p>The woman looked at him with her big dark eyes. For the first time she
+seemed conscious of his presence. And suddenly, in spite of the lapse of
+years, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_375" id="Page_375">[Pg 375]</a></span>she recognized him. She shrank away with a frenzied shrink.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, it is I! pardon me!" and Sanselme sank on his knees; "and tell me,
+I implore you, where the child is?"</p>
+
+<p>She did not speak, she could not. She stretched out her hand, and
+pointed to the room where her daughter was.</p>
+
+<p>"And she is my child?" cried Sanselme.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," answered the dying woman. And as if this simple word had snapped
+the mainspring of life, she fell dead on the floor.</p>
+
+<p>He lifted her and laid her on the bed, and then the wretched man,
+crushed under the weight of his shame, dared to pray.</p>
+
+<p>When morning broke he knocked on the door of the next room. The girl
+awoke with a start and ran out.</p>
+
+<p>"Your mother is dead," he said, gently.</p>
+
+<p>The next day Sanselme laid the poor woman in her grave. Then he said to
+the girl:</p>
+
+<p>"I knew your mother. Before she died she made me promise never to desert
+you. Will you come to me?"</p>
+
+<p>Jane Zeld was utterly crushed. She had no will of her own. Where else
+could she have gone? She felt herself surrounded by a circle of crime.
+As long as her mother lived, the affection she received from her made
+her forget sometimes the sinister truth. But when she was alone in the
+world, she felt abso<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_376" id="Page_376">[Pg 376]</a></span>lutely crushed by this ignominy. Pure as she was it
+seemed to herself that her mind was smirched.</p>
+
+<p>Sanselme had come to a grave decision. He left Lyons and took Jane with
+him, she having no idea of the reason of his devotion. He called himself
+her intendant, and was anxious to perform the most menial offices, and
+in these felt as if he were in a measure making amends for the past. He
+had one aspiration, that of paternal martyrdom. Gently and with paternal
+affection Sanselme soothed the girl's shame and despair. He had
+preserved much of the persuasiveness of a priest, his language stirred
+and softened at one and the same time. But now every word that he
+uttered was sincere.</p>
+
+<p>Jane remained excessively sad.</p>
+
+<p>Sanselme had saved several thousand francs. What should he do with Jane?
+He had left Lyons, hoping that a change of scene would go far toward
+restoring cheerfulness to Jane. Vain hope. She never forgot her mother,
+nor that mother's life. She learned with marvelous rapidity. Study was
+her best distraction. From this Sanselme hoped much. He taught her
+himself all that he had formerly learned, and wondered at the progress
+she made.</p>
+
+<p>The merest accident revealed to him Jane's amazing talent for music. If
+Art should take hold of her and absorb her entirely, she would forget
+and enter a new life.</p>
+
+<p>She studied music thoroughly, and Sanselme took care, living as they
+were, in Germany at that time, that she should constantly hear good
+music.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_377" id="Page_377">[Pg 377]</a></span></p><p>Her memory was prodigious, her voice exceptionally true, her taste
+perfect. Sanselme felt that here was safety for him.</p>
+
+<p>At the end of a few years Jane, now become a great artist, went with her
+benefactor to Paris.</p>
+
+<p>Their position toward each other was in no degree modified. He was very
+respectful in his manner, and always kept a certain distance between
+them. He did not wish her to know anything more about herself than that
+she was the daughter of the wretched Zelda.</p>
+
+<p>By degrees the recollection of Lyons seemed to fall from the mind of
+Jane. Never was there the most distant allusion ever made to her mother,
+and the girl never spoke of her.</p>
+
+<p>This silence astonished Sanselme, and troubled him as well. He had
+studied Jane so closely that he thoroughly understood her character, her
+goodness, unselfishness and passionate gratitude. He knew that she had
+not forgotten her mother, and would never do so, and that the reason she
+never mentioned her was because her pain and shame were quite as acute
+as ever. Jane's character was a singular mixture of audacity and
+timidity. It was her own proposition that she should offer her services
+at the concert, and when Sanselme proposed that she should go to
+Sabrau's, the artist, she had not hesitated in doing so.</p>
+
+<p>She sought to distract her mind, for she was haunted by a spectre. She
+had a ghastly fear that she might be tempted to lead the life her mother
+had led.</p>
+
+<p>The theatre, so often calumniated, would be her safeguard, and in her
+pride as a great artist she would <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_378" id="Page_378">[Pg 378]</a></span>forget the past. It was her
+salvation, her glory, and the path to fortune. She would be respected,
+honored and happy. These were the dreams in which Sanselme indulged.
+Perhaps, too, some honest man would give her his name, and that of Jane
+Zeld would be merged in a happy matron.</p>
+
+<p>It was with great joy that he took Jane to the reception at the
+artist's, and here basked in the admiration and respect she received. If
+she would but consent to go on the stage her fortune was secured&mdash;but
+hitherto she had refused even to listen to this plan.</p>
+
+<p>That evening Sanselme had been shocked to meet Benedetto. The spectre of
+his past again arose before him, but he thought it impossible that
+Benedetto should recognize him. He had been guilty of one imprudence.
+When he heard the name of the Vicomte of Monte-Cristo, he remembered the
+rage of Benedetto at Toulon, and how he had sworn to be avenged on him.</p>
+
+<p>A secret instinct warned Sanselme that Benedetto would wreak his
+vengeance on the son of his enemy, and concealed behind the curtain he
+had given Esperance the warning that had so startled him. Then he
+hurried away, aghast at what he had done. What was the young Vicomte to
+him? What did he care for Benedetto's hates?</p>
+
+<p>When the fire caught Jane's robe, he had been a witness of the energetic
+promptness shown by the young man, and then he said to himself that he
+was glad he gave the warning. And when they returned home that night,
+Sanselme had never been in better <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_379" id="Page_379">[Pg 379]</a></span>spirits; it seemed to him that a
+great Future was unfolding before him. To his surprise he found Jane
+weeping. For the first time she had spoken angrily, but Sanselme would
+have forgiven her if she had struck him.</p>
+
+<p>He saw that memory still haunted her, that there was no peace or rest
+for her. He wanted her to travel, but the money, where was he to get
+money? And it was while tortured by these thoughts that Benedetto
+appeared to him.</p>
+
+<p>And this was not all. Benedetto knew his secret, and now, as if all this
+were not enough, Jane herself had vanished. It was more than human
+energy could support.</p>
+
+<p>While Sanselme stood on the bridge absorbed in these wretched thoughts,
+he heard a quick, running step. His well-trained ear could not be
+deceived. It was a woman's step&mdash;if it were she? He started forward. It
+was dark, and he could see nothing, and the steps were dying away. He
+ran on toward the <i>Pont de Jena</i>, and presently he heard the steps
+again, and before him on the bridge was a dark shadow. Was it Jane?</p>
+
+<p>He called, "Jane, my child!"</p>
+
+<p>Then he saw the shadow spring to the parapet, and something black passed
+between him and the sky&mdash;the splash of water, and all was still.</p>
+
+<p>"Too late!" cried Sanselme, "but I will save her." And he in his turn
+leaped into the water. He was a vigorous swimmer, as will be remembered
+by our readers.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_380" id="Page_380">[Pg 380]</a></span></p><p>When he rose to the surface after his plunge, he looked around, and at
+some distance beheld a dark spot. He swam toward it and seized the
+woman's arm. She was just sinking. And now this man was so overwhelmed
+with emotion, that the blood rushed to his brain and his limbs were
+almost paralyzed. Fortunately the shore was not far away, but the woman
+clung convulsively to him.</p>
+
+<p>He called for aid, but all was silent and dark. He knew that he was
+sinking, and that the end was near. Suddenly a voice shouted:</p>
+
+<p>"Courage! we are coming." And two men appeared swimming vigorously.</p>
+
+<p>"I have one, Bobichel!"</p>
+
+<p>"And I have another, Monsieur Fanfar."</p>
+
+<p>With their burthens our old friends reached the shore.</p>
+
+<p>"God grant that it is not too late!" said Fanfar, kneeling by the side
+of the two inanimate forms. "What had we best do?"</p>
+
+<p>"Take them up on our shoulders, sir, and carry them along. Fortunately,
+the house is not far off."</p>
+
+<p>And Bobichel threw Sanselme over his shoulder as easily as if he had
+been a bag of meal, while Fanfar took the woman. They stopped at a small
+house not far from the Quai; every blind was closed; Fanfar uttered a
+peculiar cry.</p>
+
+<p>"Is that you?" asked a woman's voice.</p>
+
+<p>"Myself," answered Fanfar.</p>
+
+<p>The door opened, and presently the two bodies were laid on the floor.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_381" id="Page_381">[Pg 381]</a></span></p><p>Fanfar took a lamp and looked at them.</p>
+
+<p>"I saw this man at the door where we stood to-night," said Bobichel.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, I saw him, too," answered Fanfar. "But who can this woman be?"</p>
+
+<p>She was an old woman, with white hair.</p>
+
+<p>"We must all go to work. Madame Fanfar, we want your help; hot linen and
+flannels, if you please!"</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_382" id="Page_382">[Pg 382]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_LIV" id="CHAPTER_LIV"></a>CHAPTER LIV.</h2>
+
+<h3>CARMEN.</h3>
+
+
+<p>Very stately and magnificent were the offices of the <i>Banque de Credit
+Imperial</i>. The prospectus made one's mouth water. It was a magnificent
+conception of the Emperor's. To interest small capitalists would
+naturally result in great popularity.</p>
+
+<p>Napoleon III. always felt a great interest in the money of other people,
+and also, to use a vulgar expression, liked to have his hand in
+everybody's pie.</p>
+
+<p>The governor elected was Monsieur de Laisangy, who was looked upon as a
+marvelous financier. Although an old man, his activity was immense, both
+of mind and body.</p>
+
+<p>It was about ten o'clock in the morning. In an exquisite room, where
+each detail was in the best of taste and very rich, Carmen, in a
+peignoir trimmed with lace, was half lying on a couch. Her beautiful
+hair was loosely tied, and fell over her shoulders in a golden cascade.</p>
+
+<p>She was a beautiful creature, and yet there was a certain refinement
+lacking. Her hands, though white, were not delicately made, and her
+foot, in its rose-colored slipper, was not as slender as those of
+Parisian women. She seemed to be wrapped in thought. <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_383" id="Page_383">[Pg 383]</a></span>Finally, as if
+weary of arguing with herself, she extended her hand and rang the bell.</p>
+
+<p>A pretty maid servant entered.</p>
+
+<p>"What o'clock is it?"</p>
+
+<p>"Half-past ten."</p>
+
+<p>"Send a footman to tell Monsieur de Laisangy that I am waiting for him
+to come to breakfast."</p>
+
+<p>"But are you not going to dress?" asked the woman in surprise.</p>
+
+<p>"What for? I am not going out until four o'clock."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, but you will not care to go to the dining-room in your peignoir?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, I will breakfast here in my boudoir."</p>
+
+<p>"With Monsieur de Laisangy?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. You look astonished. I do not like such airs. Arrange that small
+table, and wait upon us yourself."</p>
+
+<p>"Very good, Mademoiselle."</p>
+
+<p>As the woman left the room, she said to herself:</p>
+
+<p>"They are certainly very queer people, but it is none of my business if
+a young lady chooses to breakfast half dressed with her father!"</p>
+
+<p>In less than fifteen minutes the banker knocked at the door of the
+boudoir. He took his daughter's hand and pressed a paternal kiss upon
+it. As they were alone, Carmen withdrew her hand, and said quickly:</p>
+
+<p>"None of that, if you please!"</p>
+
+<p>The old man looked strangely disturbed, and fearing that these words had
+been spoken in too audible a voice, he laid a warning finger on his lip.</p>
+
+<p>They presently seated themselves at the table. The <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_384" id="Page_384">[Pg 384]</a></span>breakfast was served
+<i>&agrave; la Russe</i>&mdash;that is, with every thing on the table at once.</p>
+
+<p>"You can leave us," said Carmen to her maid.</p>
+
+<p>Laisangy ate heartily, but Carmen merely nibbled. The banker did not
+speak until he had eaten so much he could eat no more. He drank only
+water.</p>
+
+<p>Carmen began to be impatient.</p>
+
+<p>"It seems to me that I was never so hungry in my life before!" said
+Laisangy.</p>
+
+<p>"Ah!" answered Carmen, "and yet there were times in your life when you
+were starving!"</p>
+
+<p>Laisangy was eating a bit of cheese. He stopped with his fork in the
+air.</p>
+
+<p>"We will not talk of that!" he replied.</p>
+
+<p>"And why not? Everybody is not born with a million in his cradle. I,
+too, have been near starvation!"</p>
+
+<p>"Carmen!"</p>
+
+<p>"It is true, but pray finish your breakfast. I want to talk to you."</p>
+
+<p>If Goutran, assisted by some magician, had been able to see and hear
+this interview, he would have been thunderstruck. What a tone! What an
+expression! Not that she was less pretty, but there was a something in
+her manner and appearance which would have offended his taste.</p>
+
+<p>Laisangy finally stopped eating. Any other person would have been
+crimson after such a meal, but he actually looked paler than ever.</p>
+
+<p>Carmen rang the bell for coffee, and then they were again alone.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_385" id="Page_385">[Pg 385]</a></span></p><p>"My dear Carmen, I am ready to listen to you," said the banker. She had
+lighted a cigarette, and was smoking, with her eyes fixed on him.</p>
+
+<p>"You want money, I suppose?"</p>
+
+<p>"No&mdash;I want information."</p>
+
+<p>"Information!"</p>
+
+<p>"Ah! that makes you uneasy, does it not? I am well aware that you are
+not fond of questions."</p>
+
+<p>Laisangy, who was drinking his third cup of coffee, shivered a little at
+these words.</p>
+
+<p>"I do not understand you," he said.</p>
+
+<p>"You will, presently. But I never saw anybody with such an appetite.
+When I was sixteen and could hardly get a crust of bread, I could not
+eat like that."</p>
+
+<p>"Why dwell on these memories, Carmen?"</p>
+
+<p>"Because, if I remind you of what and who I am, I shall have a better
+chance, perhaps, to learn who you are."</p>
+
+<p>"Carmen! Carmen!" said the old man imploringly, and becoming even paler
+than before.</p>
+
+<p>"I tell you that I intend to know who you are. Now hold your tongue and
+let me speak. I have had a weight on my heart for a long time, and now I
+intend to make a clean breast of it."</p>
+
+<p>No words can describe the terror on the face of the banker. He stammered
+and choked.</p>
+
+<p>"But, Carmen, we are so comfortable and happy. What do you want more?"</p>
+
+<p>"I wish to have my curiosity satisfied," answered Carmen, coldly.
+"Everything about you is a mystery and a fraud. In fact, you terrify
+me!"</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_386" id="Page_386">[Pg 386]</a></span></p><p>"But&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes&mdash;even your way of eating is not natural. There is something of the
+wild beast about you, and I tell you I am afraid!"</p>
+
+<p>"But this is childish. You have known me a long time."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. I am twenty-two now, and I was fifteen when you took me, while
+Mamma Lousteau was your cook at Florence&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Hush! Carmen, you will be heard!"</p>
+
+<p>"Who cares! Yes, the whole world may hear the story of a girl whose
+mother was cook in a banker's house. The banker entered the girl's room
+in the night, the mother discovered it. Her rage and distress brought on
+an attack of apoplexy. She died, and I remained with you! These are the
+bare facts."</p>
+
+<p>"Carmen!"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh! I am not complaining. You were rich, you gave me jewels and fine
+clothes. I was only sixteen, I forgot your brutality and I remained with
+you. When you came back to France you told me that a certain regard must
+be paid to appearances, that we must lie, in short, and I agreed to pass
+as your daughter. And now, I ask"&mdash;she folded her arms on her breast&mdash;"I
+ask why you did not marry me?"</p>
+
+<p>"Good heavens! because&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Because what? You cannot give me a good reason. Not a word of truth can
+ever be torn from you. I am convinced that back of all these lies there
+is some horrible infamy which you dare not acknowledge even to me."</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_387" id="Page_387">[Pg 387]</a></span></p><p>"Carmen! no more of this, I implore you! What has gone wrong with you?"</p>
+
+<p>"Everything. I simply wish to know, and am resolved to know, who you
+are&mdash;if not&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"If not?"</p>
+
+<p>"I have not quite decided. There are some things, bad as I am, which I
+will not stand, and I will make it the business of my life to discover
+what crimes you have committed, and I will denounce you!"</p>
+
+<p>Laisangy started to his feet.</p>
+
+<p>"Look at yourself in the mirror," cried Carmen, "and tell me if you do
+not look like a murderer!"</p>
+
+<p>Laisangy bit his lips so fiercely that the blood started. Then suddenly,
+as if a thought had struck him, he cried:</p>
+
+<p>"Come now, Carmen, don't say any more nasty things to me. I am an old
+man and have had many troubles."</p>
+
+<p>"Indeed?"</p>
+
+<p>"You have never questioned me like this before. Even my appetite offends
+you. Surely, there is no crime in that! You want to know something about
+me. One thing I will tell you&mdash;it may strike you as rather a joke. Once
+in Italy, going from one city to another, I had a large sum of money
+with me, and I was taken by brigands. These villains took it into their
+heads to sell me every mouthful I ate at its weight in gold. For some
+time I would not yield, and was nearly starved. Since that time I have
+had paroxysms of violent hunger. Do you see?"</p>
+
+<p>Carmen did not see, and she said:</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_388" id="Page_388">[Pg 388]</a></span></p><p>"But why did not the brigands take your money without subjecting you to
+this torture?"</p>
+
+<p>Laisangy looked troubled as he replied:</p>
+
+<p>"I am sure I don't know."</p>
+
+<p>"It looks to me as if these men whom you call brigands were inflicting a
+chastisement upon you, perhaps."</p>
+
+<p>"Carmen!"</p>
+
+<p>"Come, throw down your cards. I tell you I will no longer submit to this
+miserable farce we are playing here. I will no longer call myself your
+daughter, nor will I be dragged into the maze of intrigues which I
+divine."</p>
+
+<p>"Carmen! once more I implore you&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"I will not be your accomplice and be dragged by you into an abyss of
+infamy!"</p>
+
+<p>"But why should you say such things? I am rich, and honored by the favor
+of the Emperor."</p>
+
+<p>"A fine recommendation, that!" cried Carmen, disdainfully.</p>
+
+<p>"I am respected and honored by every one."</p>
+
+<p>Carmen rose from her chair and looked the banker full in the face.</p>
+
+<p>"Then tell me why, when we were at the <i>soir&eacute;e</i> last evening, at a name
+pronounced by a lacquey you became ghastly pale."</p>
+
+<p>"You are mistaken&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"It is true; you fled as if you had seen a ghost, and the name was
+Monte-Cristo."</p>
+
+<p>Laisangy was terrible to look at.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_389" id="Page_389">[Pg 389]</a></span></p><p>"Hold your tongue! Hold your tongue!" and the banker rushed toward her
+with uplifted hand.</p>
+
+<p>But Carmen, with her arms folded upon her breast, looked at him with
+such disdain that his arm fell at his side.</p>
+
+<p>"And this is not all," she continued. "You met many enemies last
+evening, it seems; for some one said in the garden, 'Take care that you
+do not learn my name too soon, Monsieur de Laisangy.' These may not be
+the precise words, but they are nearly so."</p>
+
+<p>"Ah! you are a spy, then! Look out!"</p>
+
+<p>"I am not in the least afraid of you; but let me tell you that your
+present conduct strengthens all my suspicions, and I, in my turn, bid
+you look out! I shall learn the truth, and then&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"And then&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"I shall leave you. But if, in self-defence, you raise a finger against
+one whom I esteem, I will denounce you!"</p>
+
+<p>Laisangy, exasperated beyond all self-control, seized a knife from the
+table. The door opened and the maid entered.</p>
+
+<p>"Here is a card which the gentleman wished me to hand you at once, sir."</p>
+
+<p>Carmen took the card and read the name.</p>
+
+<p>"Signor Fagiano!" she read aloud. "Ah! he has come to tell you his right
+name, I fancy!"</p>
+
+<p>Laisangy took the card from Carmen's hand and dashed from the room.
+Carmen said, half aloud:</p>
+
+<p>"Goutran is the friend of the Vicomte de Monte-Cristo. I will watch!"</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_390" id="Page_390">[Pg 390]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_LV" id="CHAPTER_LV"></a>CHAPTER LV.</h2>
+
+<h3>THE BANKER.</h3>
+
+
+<p>Signor Fagiano was standing, when Monsieur de Laisangy entered the room.
+He was a man of fifty, but extremely fine looking, with a little of the
+air of the Duc de Morny in his best days. He had, however, a scar across
+one cheek that disfigured him. No one would have recognized him as the
+convict Benedetto. Laisangy entered with a pale face of disdain.</p>
+
+<p>We must not omit to mention what took place in the garden the previous
+evening. When the banker, overcome by the heat of the rooms, took refuge
+in the fresh air, he had been followed by Fagiano, who said to him, when
+out of hearing of every one:</p>
+
+<p>"Monsieur de Laisangy, I know your past."</p>
+
+<p>Laisangy started, and even uttered an exclamation of surprise. The other
+continued&mdash;a threat in every word. He asked for money&mdash;much money.
+Laisangy knew that in his long career he had left many creditors in the
+lurch, and finally he said:</p>
+
+<p>"Who are you? Why should I give you money? What is your name?"</p>
+
+<p>To these questions the mysterious stranger replied:</p>
+
+<p>"Take care&mdash;you will know my name only too soon!"</p>
+
+<p>Since then Laisangy had been very uneasy. Possibly <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_391" id="Page_391">[Pg 391]</a></span>his conscience was
+not quite clear. He now came to see this Fagiano in a state of rage,
+exasperated by the scene with Carmen, and the favorite of the Emperor
+now came to measure weapons with this stranger.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, sir," said the banker, "this is the second time that you have
+seen fit to throw yourself in my path. Yesterday you addressed me in a
+fashion that savored of blackmail. What do you want? I do not know you,
+nor you me. I am a patient man, but even my patience has limits; and it
+may happen that I give my servants orders to throw you out of doors,
+neck and heels!"</p>
+
+<p>The other, leaning with one elbow on the mantel, laughed aloud as he
+said:</p>
+
+<p>"Ring, if you choose, my good fellow. There will then be a nice
+scandal!"</p>
+
+<p>The banker's hand, even then on the bell, dropped at his side.</p>
+
+<p>"Ah! I see you do not care for witnesses!"</p>
+
+<p>Laisangy opened his lips to speak.</p>
+
+<p>"And you are right, perhaps. Napoleon, who knew the world, said, 'It is
+always best to wash your dirty linen at home!' and we have&mdash;you and I&mdash;a
+tremendous wash on hand!"</p>
+
+<p>Laisangy did not move; his eyes were fixed on the face of this man, to
+whom he could not give a name. He finally managed to say:</p>
+
+<p>"I am not fond of mysteries. Who are you?"</p>
+
+<p>"You do not know me, then?"</p>
+
+<p>Fagiano laughed, and in this laugh was a certain ferocity.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_392" id="Page_392">[Pg 392]</a></span></p><p>"Give me two hundred thousand francs and you will never see me again!"</p>
+
+<p>Laisangy answered with a certain dignity:</p>
+
+<p>"I never give alms to strangers."</p>
+
+<p>"Bless my soul!" cried Fagiano, "your manners are improving. You do not
+know my name, but I know yours, Monsieur Danglars!"</p>
+
+<p>At this name the banker started back.</p>
+
+<p>"You are mad!" he cried.</p>
+
+<p>"Very well; but what would you say if at the Tuileries you heard
+yourself announced by your real name, Monsieur Danglars?"</p>
+
+<p>Danglars, for it was he, drew a pistol from his pocket and presented it
+to Fagiano's breast. He with a quick blow struck it from the banker's
+hand. It fell on the floor and fortunately did not go off. Fagiano
+picked it up and drew the charge.</p>
+
+<p>"Dangerous playthings and sad interruptions in a conversation," he said.
+"We can understand each other without this. And now, having gotten
+through with this melodramatic scene, I tell you that I shall not be
+content with less than five hundred thousand francs."</p>
+
+<p>Danglars was utterly confounded. But presently, gathering himself
+together, he said:</p>
+
+<p>"I am not intimidated by your threats. You can make what use you please
+of your knowledge, you share it with many others. No one cares."</p>
+
+<p>"But I have more to say. I propose to reveal my own name to you. Can I
+so change that you do not recognize me?"</p>
+
+<p>"I never saw you before."</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_393" id="Page_393">[Pg 393]</a></span></p><p>"How does it happen, Monsieur Danglars, that you have a daughter of
+twenty when your wife was living fifteen years since? She had a daughter
+by you, and her name was not Carmen."</p>
+
+<p>Danglars was disconcerted. He threw himself upon a chair.</p>
+
+<p>"Go on," he said.</p>
+
+<p>"Ah! you are beginning to understand me, are you? I know what I say, and
+will prove it to you. You, as a banker, enriched yourself in
+speculations, each more dishonorable than the other, and you encountered
+a man who crushed you like a worm under his heel. You fell, but you are
+of the kind that bounds, and to-day you are once more upon a pinnacle.
+You vegetated for years, until the moment came when you could once more
+seize fortune in your grasp. You are no longer Danglars the bankrupt and
+thief&mdash;you are Laisangy, respected and trusted. Know then that I have it
+in my power to throw you back into the mire from which you have
+struggled. I am ready to be your enemy or your accomplice, the choice is
+in your hands."</p>
+
+<p>"Ah! I know you!" cried Danglars, throwing up his hands. "You are Andrea
+Cavalcanti. Yes, it is all coming back to me. You called yourself by a
+title to which you had no claim; you professed to have a fortune that
+had no existence, and you introduced yourself into my family. But the
+day came when the law interfered!"</p>
+
+<p>"Ah! your memory is an excellent one!" Then relinquishing his sneer and
+his smile, he leaned toward Danglars. "I am Benedetto, the assassin;
+Benedetto, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_394" id="Page_394">[Pg 394]</a></span>the convict. But that is not all. Are you acquainted with my
+father's name?"</p>
+
+<p>"I heard of a scandalous suit, but I was not in France."</p>
+
+<p>"No, you had fled. You were not here when, in the court-room, I flung my
+hatred and my loathing at the head of the Procureur du Roi&mdash;at the head
+of my father, Monsieur de Villefort. And do you know the name of my
+mother?"</p>
+
+<p>"It was never given."</p>
+
+<p>"I will tell it to you, nevertheless. She was Madame Danglars."</p>
+
+<p>The banker started to his feet, his whole frame twitching nervously.</p>
+
+<p>"It is not true! It is not true!" he cried.</p>
+
+<p>"She was my mother, I tell you, and I punished her as she deserved, for
+I killed her!"</p>
+
+<p>"Horrible! Horrible!" And the wretched man who listened to these words
+wrung his hands.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, and here is the proof."</p>
+
+<p>Benedetto drew from his pocketbook the paper on which Sanselme had
+written the lines he had dictated.</p>
+
+<p>"Read this," he said. "I was not alone; the witness is still living, and
+I can produce him if necessary."</p>
+
+<p>Danglars had fallen back in his chair.</p>
+
+<p>"Now then," continued Benedetto, "you know who I am, and you know, too,
+that I hesitate at nothing. Once more, will you obey me?"</p>
+
+<p>"But what do you wish me to do?"</p>
+
+<p>"In the first place, I want money. I am tired of <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_395" id="Page_395">[Pg 395]</a></span>poverty, and of the
+incessant perils which it forces me to run. You are rich. Make me rich."</p>
+
+<p>"You shall have money."</p>
+
+<p>"And much money. But this is not all."</p>
+
+<p>Benedetto laid his hand on the shoulder of his companion.</p>
+
+<p>"Have you forgotten," he said, in a stern voice, "the man who humiliated
+and tortured you? Do you feel no thirst for revenge?"</p>
+
+<p>Danglars looked up quickly.</p>
+
+<p>"That man," continued Benedetto, "was and is your evil genius, as well
+as mine. He tempted me. He launched me into a world where all my
+appetite for luxury was developed, then suddenly he sent me to a prison.
+You remember all the tortures he inflicted on you. Now it is in our
+power to heap on this man a vengeance so terrible that he will writhe at
+our feet. This vengeance I mean to have. Danglars, do you wish to see
+this man suffer? Then give me your hand, and we will work together."</p>
+
+<p>Danglars murmured:</p>
+
+<p>"It is impossible. Vengeance is sweet, but it can not be."</p>
+
+<p>"Impossible!" sneered Benedetto. "We two will succeed, I swear to you."</p>
+
+<p>"No, no, I am afraid of him!"</p>
+
+<p>"Are you a child? Once more, Danglars, do you wish to be revenged on
+Monte-Cristo, if I can prove to you that you personally run no risk? I
+too am afraid of him. I too have thought for a long time that he was
+all-powerful and not to be reached. To-day I <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_396" id="Page_396">[Pg 396]</a></span>have discovered a fault in
+his armor, and intend that this man shall weep tears of blood. Once
+more, will you assist me?"</p>
+
+<p>"Ah! if it were possible!" sighed Danglars.</p>
+
+<p>"Listen to me a moment. This man has one immense passion, his love for
+his son, and it is through this love that we shall reach him. The Count
+of Monte-Cristo is invincible, you say. You forget that he has a son."</p>
+
+<p>"The Vicomte Esperance!"</p>
+
+<p>"To strike the son is to kill the father!"</p>
+
+<p>"You are right&mdash;and I, like you, hate him!"</p>
+
+<p>"Then join me, and we shall have a terrible revenge. I must have money,
+though, and you must swear to obey me blindly."</p>
+
+<p>"And you say that we will crush Monte-Cristo?"</p>
+
+<p>"I swear it!"</p>
+
+<p>"Then," said Danglars, "I join you, for I hate him!"</p>
+
+<p>And the two men shook hands in ratification of their oath.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_397" id="Page_397">[Pg 397]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_LVI" id="CHAPTER_LVI"></a>CHAPTER LVI.</h2>
+
+<h3>ESPERANCE, MONTE-CRISTO'S SON.</h3>
+
+
+<p>Now let us go back to Esperance. Three days have elapsed since Jane was
+borne into the h&ocirc;tel on the Champs-Elys&eacute;es.</p>
+
+<p>We find Madame Caraman deep in a conference with the person on whom she
+has more reliance than on any one else in the world, none other than
+herself! The good woman was lying on a sofa, listening to every sound
+which came from the room where Jane lay utterly prostrated.</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know," said the old lady half aloud, "whether I am doing right
+or not. The Count begged me to look out for his son, and I have tried to
+do this. I have now accepted a new duty from the Vicomte, and for three
+days and nights I have been watching over this poor young girl. This is
+all very well. The Vicomte has requested me to keep the affair secret,
+even from his father, and I have consented. Here I am not sure that I
+have done wisely. The Count said: 'If you have any especial
+communication to make to me, you may go to Monsieur Fanfar.' That is
+clear enough. But if I obey the father I disobey the son!"</p>
+
+<p>All these arguments failed to satisfy the good woman of the excellence
+of her cause, for she shook her head <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_398" id="Page_398">[Pg 398]</a></span>several times. She heard a long
+sigh, and ran to Jane's bed. The girl's face looked like wax, her
+eyelids had a brownish tinge. Her lips were parted with the sigh that
+her nurse had heard.</p>
+
+<p>Poor Jane! Was she on the road to recovery? Alas! the physicians did not
+yet answer for her life. Goutran had, at the request of Esperance,
+brought two men of great science, but they agreed that the girl was in
+great danger.</p>
+
+<p>When Madame leaned over her to give her the medicine, Jane seemed to be
+terribly frightened. The color rushed to her cheeks, and she panted for
+breath.</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly her eyes opened wide, and she cried aloud:</p>
+
+<p>"Ah! let me die&mdash;let me die!"</p>
+
+<p>"My poor, dear child!" said Madame Caraman, kissing her tenderly on her
+brow, "you must not say that! Try to be calm and good."</p>
+
+<p>But Jane did not listen to her. She seemed to be haunted by some
+terrible spectre. Delirium has some astonishing resurrections. She
+struggled so fiercely in the arms of her nurse that Madame, who had been
+told to summon Esperance at any moment, leaned forward and touched a
+bell.</p>
+
+<p>In a moment the Vicomte appeared. Oh! how pale and hollow-eyed he was!
+As he entered, Jane fell back among her pillows, covering her face with
+her hands.</p>
+
+<p>"What is it?" asked Esperance.</p>
+
+<p>"Only a little more fever, sir, but I feared an accident, and called
+you."</p>
+
+<p>"You did right, and I thank you."</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_399" id="Page_399">[Pg 399]</a></span></p><p>He took the girl's hands gently in his. At his touch tears sprang to
+Jane's closed eyes, and a little shiver passed over her whole body.</p>
+
+<p>"She is calmer now," said Madame, "and I am almost sorry that I have
+disturbed you."</p>
+
+<p>"No&mdash;I am very glad you did. You must be very weary. Lie down, and I
+will stay here until dawn."</p>
+
+<p>"No&mdash;I am old, I do not require much sleep, while you&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>Esperance sat on the foot of the bed, holding Jane's slender hands.</p>
+
+<p>"Do you think," he said gently, "that I can sleep while she is
+suffering? Go, I beg of you&mdash;I will call you soon."</p>
+
+<p>Madame still resisted a little, perhaps for form's sake, but finally
+obeyed his wishes. The young man then sank on his knees, still holding
+Jane's hands.</p>
+
+<p>They remained thus, silent and motionless. From the touch of the
+Vicomte's hand Jane seemed to experience profound relief. Is it not
+certain that between two persons a certain magnetic communication may
+take place&mdash;an electric fluid may pass from one to the other, making the
+two momentarily one?</p>
+
+<p>Esperance bowed his head and pressed his lips on Jane's hand. Then the
+young girl opened her eyes. The fever was gone. Her glorious eyes had
+regained all their softness, and her pulse beat more regularly.</p>
+
+<p>"Jane! Jane!" whispered the young man. It seemed to him that he felt a
+gentle pressure of her fingers. "You hear me?" he said. "Will you allow
+me to remain near you? If you only knew how much <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_400" id="Page_400">[Pg 400]</a></span>I suffer in seeing
+your sufferings, and how gladly I would spare you a pang!" Again the
+little quivering pressure.</p>
+
+<p>"When I saw you the other night it did not seem to me that it was the
+first time. I felt as if I had seen you in my dreams. Jane, why did you
+wish to die?"</p>
+
+<p>Was she listening? Did she hear him? A delicious torpor had taken
+possession of the girl. She thought she was dreaming, and was afraid to
+move lest she should awaken. The past seemed far away.</p>
+
+<p>He continued:</p>
+
+<p>"Jane, before I saw you I did not live. I was always sad. What did it
+matter to me the luxury with which I was surrounded? I have always felt
+singularly alone, my life was incomplete. But now I feel as if it were
+well rounded. You have suffered, but now all that is over. You will tell
+me all, because we are to have no secrets from each other. We will leave
+Paris, and find some quiet retreat together."</p>
+
+<p>She did not speak, but from under her half-closed eyes a tear stole down
+her cheek. Esperance kissed the tear away. She smiled faintly, and then
+fell into a sweet sleep. Seeing this, Esperance rose and softly left the
+room.</p>
+
+<p>In the ante-room Madame Caraman lay asleep on the sofa. Esperance
+smiled, but as he knew that Jane was safe, he did not arouse her nurse.</p>
+
+<p>He went to his room. Hardly had the sound of his footsteps died away
+than the porti&egrave;re is lifted in yonder corner, and a dark form appears.
+It was a man. His face was hidden by a black vail. In his hand was <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_401" id="Page_401">[Pg 401]</a></span>a
+white handkerchief and a glass bottle. He stole to the bed so softly
+that not a sound was heard.</p>
+
+<p>Who is this man? It was thus that Monte-Cristo once entered the room of
+Valentine de Villefort. But this was not Monte-Cristo. As he reached the
+bed he extended his arm and held to the girl's face the handkerchief,
+from which exhaled a blue vapor.</p>
+
+<p>Jane was breathing naturally. Suddenly her whole form quivered, then
+came immobility. Her limbs straighten, the rose fades from her cheek,
+her brow becomes like marble. The man lifted the inert form in his arms,
+and slowly, with infinite precautions, he moved toward the porti&egrave;re,
+which he pushes aside and disappears.</p>
+
+<p>Ah! Madame Caraman, ah! Esperance, you little know what is going on!</p>
+
+<p>This man is Benedetto. His revenge has begun!</p>
+
+<p>And in that empty room there is now no other sound than the ticking of
+the clock.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_402" id="Page_402">[Pg 402]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_LVII" id="CHAPTER_LVII"></a>CHAPTER LVII.</h2>
+
+<h3>THEY MUST BE SAVED!</h3>
+
+
+<p>My readers have not forgotten the romantic episode that followed Jane's
+suicide. How happened it that our old friends Fanfar and Bobichel were
+near and able to save the life of Sanselme?</p>
+
+<p>It is a very simple matter. Monte-Cristo had said to Fanfar, "I trust my
+son to you. You love me, love him, also. Be to him what you have been to
+me."</p>
+
+<p>"Rely on me," Fanfar said, and Monte-Cristo went away, confiding in
+himself, in everything, and still more in the strange fatality which had
+always served him.</p>
+
+<p>Fanfar kept his word. He watched everything that Esperance did. He had
+been told, also, not to permit this surveillance to be suspected unless
+some real danger made it necessary to disclose it.</p>
+
+<p>The evening that Esperance went to Goutran's, Fanfar, accompanied by the
+inseparable Bobichel, had seen the young man enter his friend's house,
+he had seen him place Jane in the carriage, and finally had watched him
+walk away with Goutran.</p>
+
+<p>Could there be anything more reassuring? Fanfar thought not, and in a
+state of perfect satisfaction they walked along the left shore of the
+Seine, where Fanfar had a little house in the Rue Bellechasse.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_403" id="Page_403">[Pg 403]</a></span></p><p>They were talking earnestly, when they heard loud cries for aid. They
+instantly plunged into the river and swam in the direction of the cries.</p>
+
+<p>They were successful in their efforts, and saved the lives of both the
+man and the woman. Sanselme, however, had a brain fever, and the woman,
+Fanfar discovered, was insane. With her it was a passing delirium.
+Fanfar was greatly puzzled to know what to do with her. Who was she?
+Whence came she? There was nothing about her person which would
+elucidate the mystery. It was possible that she had escaped from some
+hospital, and Fanfar went to the Prefecture to make inquiries, but no
+such disappearance was registered there.</p>
+
+<p>Fanfar naturally felt that there must be some connection between these
+two persons. Some frightful tragedy had been enacted. But he also felt
+that absolute secrecy was due the two unfortunates, till at last it was
+plain that there was no danger in revealing the adventure.</p>
+
+<p>Days elapsed. Sanselme had terrible attacks of frenzy, and the woman,
+when she was able to move, had risen from her bed and gone to the door
+of her room, where she stood with terror and anguish imprinted on every
+feature, and if any one entered the room she would press both hands on
+her breast and utter a terrible shriek.</p>
+
+<p>Finally Fanfar's wife had called him to see a scar on the breast of the
+unfortunate creature. She had certainly received a terrible wound, but
+when and where? The scar was not a new one.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_404" id="Page_404">[Pg 404]</a></span></p><p>Fanfar had sent Bobichel to the Vicomte's, for he had reproached himself
+that he had neglected Esperance in his interest for these two strangers.
+He sat near Sanselme's bed, and in the next room the mad woman was
+asleep, crouching on the floor near the door.</p>
+
+<p>Fanfar looked at the man before him, and his unerring instinct told him
+that this livid, worn face had known not only great sorrow, but terrible
+remorse.</p>
+
+<p>Sanselme said something. Fanfar leaned over him to hear more distinctly.</p>
+
+<p>"My daughter; dead! dead!"</p>
+
+<p>And these words were repeated over and over again. What did this mean?
+The woman Sanselme had saved was older than he; she could not be his
+daughter.</p>
+
+<p>Fanfar said in distinct but soothing tones, "You have a daughter? You
+have lost her?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, my Jane!"</p>
+
+<p>Sanselme flung himself from one side of the bed to the other in intense
+agony, and Fanfar asked question after question. He could not tear from
+the man the smallest information.</p>
+
+<p>Having taken a sedative the sick man fell asleep, but it was plain that
+his dreams were troubled. Fanfar took up a book, when he heard the
+door-bell, and Bobichel suddenly appeared all out of breath. He dropped
+on a chair, and seemed to be in great trouble.</p>
+
+<p>"What is the matter?" asked Fanfar.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh! such a dreadful thing has happened to Monte-Cristo's son!"</p>
+
+<p>"To the Vicomte!" cried Fanfar, leaping from his <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_405" id="Page_405">[Pg 405]</a></span>chair. He seized
+Bobichel's arm rather roughly, and shaking it, cried, "Will you speak?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, master, but I don't know how to tell you that the Vicomte has gone
+away."</p>
+
+<p>"Gone away, and what of that?"</p>
+
+<p>"But he has disappeared!"</p>
+
+<p>"Who says so?"</p>
+
+<p>"Old Madame Caraman and Coucon."</p>
+
+<p>Fanfar passed his hand over his troubled brow. "My dear old friend," he
+said, "take pity on me, and tell me all you know; do not compel me to
+ask so many questions."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, then, listen. You as well as I, became a little anxious because
+we had heard nothing of Monsieur Esperance for so long. I have found out
+that the night of the <i>soir&eacute;e</i>, while we were saving those two old
+people in there, he was also doing something of the same kind."</p>
+
+<p>"Did he not go home then, as we supposed?"</p>
+
+<p>"Not he! He did not go home for over two hours, then he and Monsieur
+Goutran had a person with them who had been wounded&mdash;a young girl&mdash;she
+had been shot!"</p>
+
+<p>"What preposterous tale is this?"</p>
+
+<p>"It is true, sir. I did not believe it myself, at first, and as I felt
+sure you would doubt the story, I took the liberty of bringing the
+witnesses with me. Caraman and Coucon are here, sir."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh! Bobichel, why could you not have said this before? Let me see them
+at once, and I swear that I will get at the truth!"</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_406" id="Page_406">[Pg 406]</a></span></p><p>Fanfar, in addition to his impatience, felt a certain remorse. If any
+accident happened to Esperance he felt in a measure responsible.</p>
+
+<p>Caraman and Coucon came in. They were in great trouble.</p>
+
+<p>"My good friends," said Fanfar, taking Madame's hand. She was sobbing
+fit to break her heart, while Coucon was gnawing the ends of his
+moustache, in order not to imitate her example. "My good friends, I do
+not yet believe that what Bobichel tells me is true. He says that the
+Vicomte has disappeared."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, sir," growled Coucon.</p>
+
+<p>"Then, Madame Caraman, this is no time for tears. Tears remedy nothing,
+and we must have all our wits about us."</p>
+
+<p>Madame held out her arms to Fanfar, as she fell on her knees before him.</p>
+
+<p>"I am the one in fault, and I shall never forgive myself."</p>
+
+<p>"Pray tell me the whole."</p>
+
+<p>"I have broken all my promises in not sending to you before, and yet all
+the time I had a presentiment of evil."</p>
+
+<p>She wept and sobbed to such a degree that Fanfar could scarcely
+understand her, but he finally managed to soothe her. She had little to
+explain, however. She told how Esperance and Goutran had come in late at
+night, and brought with them a young girl who had been wounded by a
+pistol shot, and who seemed to be dying. How she herself had watched
+over this girl night and day. She told how, in obedience to the
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_407" id="Page_407">[Pg 407]</a></span>Vicomte, she had gone to lie down, being very weary and sleepy.</p>
+
+<p>"I can't say how it happened," she sighed. "I had been greatly fatigued.
+I only meant to rest, not to sleep, but when I opened my eyes it was
+broad daylight. I jumped up, and ran to the door and listened, but all
+was silent; then I stole to the bed, I thought she was asleep, of
+course. Suddenly it occurred to me that the silence was too profound. I
+tore open the curtain, the bed was empty. At first I thought the girl
+might have been carried to some other room, she was too weak to walk,
+you understand, and perhaps Coucon had helped, so I went to him and he
+rubbed his eyes and yawned."</p>
+
+<p>"Madame Caraman!" exclaimed Coucon.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, you did, and were as stupid as possible. At all events, he had
+heard nothing, seen nothing. Then I took it into my head that the
+Vicomte had taken her away. And&mdash;and&mdash;I can't tell you what I thought,
+but did not like to go to the Vicomte. I knew if she was in his room,
+that he would not like any one to know it. This was an infamous thought
+on my part, for she is a good girl, I am sure."</p>
+
+<p>"Pray, go on with your story, my dear lady," said Fanfar, with a shade
+of impatience. "We are losing a great deal of precious time."</p>
+
+<p>"You are right! Well, I finally decided to go to the Vicomte's door. He
+was sitting at the table studying some books on medicine, and I told
+him. Oh! how sorry I was for him. I had no idea that he would care, but
+he became deadly pale, and thrusting me <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_408" id="Page_408">[Pg 408]</a></span>aside, a little rudely I must
+confess, he ran to the room I had just left, and when he found I had
+told him the simple truth he went nearly crazy. Even if, as I first
+thought might be the case, the girl had an attack of delirium, she could
+not have opened the window, besides it was fastened inside. The doors
+were all bolted too. I did not know what to think. Monsieur Esperance
+was in such a rage that I don't like to think of him. But after all he
+was right, I had no business to sleep in that way."</p>
+
+<p>"Go on; tell me about Esperance. When did he go away?"</p>
+
+<p>"We have not seen him since last evening. He put his hat on his head,
+and went out without saying a word to us."</p>
+
+<p>Fanfar reflected.</p>
+
+<p>"You have no idea where he went?"</p>
+
+<p>"Not the slightest. Oh! what will the Count say to us!"</p>
+
+<p>"You have been very imprudent, but there is no use in recriminations. We
+must look for Esperance at once. Do you know how the girl was wounded?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, but Monsieur Goutran does."</p>
+
+<p>"I will go to him immediately."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh! we have been there, and he has gone away for the day. Here is a
+little bag which we found in the young lady's room, and it may tell you
+something."</p>
+
+<p>And Madame, as she spoke, handed Fanfar one of those little morocco bags
+so much in vogue to be hung at the belt. Fanfar opened the bag, and
+found a letter without address.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_409" id="Page_409">[Pg 409]</a></span></p><p>"We must look at this," he said.</p>
+
+<p>The letter was only a few lines of thanks written to the young girl by
+Goutran, when she consented to sing at his <i>soir&eacute;e</i>. The note began with
+the words "Miss Jane!"</p>
+
+<p>"Miss Jane!" cried Fanfar, a sudden recollection flashing over him.</p>
+
+<p>To this cry there was a response. The door opened, and Sanselme tottered
+in.</p>
+
+<p>"Jane! Jane! Did you say Jane?"</p>
+
+<p>Fanfar ran to his assistance.</p>
+
+<p>"Don't trouble yourself about me," cried Sanselme. "Tell me, did I hear
+you speak the name of Jane?"</p>
+
+<p>"That is certainly the name on this note," answered Fanfar, extending
+the paper in his hand, which Sanselme snatched from him.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, it is hers. It is my dau&mdash;" He stopped even in his delirium he had
+strength to conceal his secret. "It is Jane's," he added.</p>
+
+<p>"Then you know this girl?" Fanfar asked, excitedly.</p>
+
+<p>"Do I know her? Was it not she who wished to die? Was it not she whom I
+rescued?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, calm yourself. You are mistaken. You must try and tell me what I
+wish to know. Terrible dangers threaten those whom perhaps we both
+love."</p>
+
+<p>"Is Jane in danger?" asked Sanselme, frantically. "Let me go! I must
+leave this place at once."</p>
+
+<p>He started from his chair, but his strength failed him, and if Fanfar
+had not caught him he would have fallen.</p>
+
+<p>"Ah!" he half sobbed, "I might have known it! <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_410" id="Page_410">[Pg 410]</a></span>That wretch Benedetto is
+always a signal of misfortune to me."</p>
+
+<p>"Who speaks of Benedetto!" said a hoarse voice.</p>
+
+<p>Every one started. Before them stood the mad woman in torn and shabby
+garments, with her white hair in disorder. And as Sanselme looked up he
+saw her. A terrible cry escaped from his lips, and he recoiled with
+staring eyes riveted on the spectre before him.</p>
+
+<p>"It is she!" he murmured. "The dead, it seems, are permitted to revisit
+the earth!"</p>
+
+<p>The woman slowly approached Sanselme, and looked at him closely. She
+came so near that she could touch him, and then with a wild laugh, she
+screamed:</p>
+
+<p>"The convict! Yes, it is he!"</p>
+
+<p>And then, shuddering from head to foot, she repeated, "Benedetto! Who
+speaks of Benedetto?"</p>
+
+<p>"What does all this mean?" asked Fanfar.</p>
+
+<p>"I will tell you," said Sanselme, averting his eyes. "Yes, it is true, I
+am an escaped convict. This woman is right, but I never did her any
+harm. Look at me, woman! Tell me, was it I who struck you?"</p>
+
+<p>The mad woman tore away the rags that covered the terrible scar on her
+breast.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh! how it hurts," she said, moaning, "and how hot my head is."</p>
+
+<p>"But who did it?"</p>
+
+<p>The woman in a frightened whisper, answered:</p>
+
+<p>"It was Benedetto&mdash;my son!"</p>
+
+<p>A cry of horror escaped from every heart.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," exclaimed Sanselme, "and the wretch still <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_411" id="Page_411">[Pg 411]</a></span>lives. He assassinated
+his mother, and by what miracle she escaped, I know not. He&mdash;this
+Benedetto&mdash;is to-day in Paris. He has come to avenge himself on
+Monte-Cristo."</p>
+
+<p>Fanfar questioned Sanselme, who avowed everything except that Jane was
+his daughter. He would not have admitted this had he been threatened
+with the guillotine. Fanfar listened attentively.</p>
+
+<p>"It is as clear as day to me," he said, at last, "that all this is
+Benedetto's work. Therefore we will first find him, and of him we will
+demand an account of this new crime. Sanselme, you have been a great
+criminal. Are you ready to prove your repentance?"</p>
+
+<p>"I will obey you in whatsoever you order. Save Jane, no matter what
+becomes of me."</p>
+
+<p>"Then all of you will make ready for the fray. I will summon the Count
+of Monte-Cristo, as it was agreed I should do in case of danger. He will
+be here in three days, and we must be able to say to him that we have
+saved his son."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, we must say that," cried the Zouave, "or Coucon will be dead."</p>
+
+<p>"To work then," said Fanfar, rising. "Sanselme, come into my cabinet,
+there are several questions I wish to ask. But first, who is this
+woman?"</p>
+
+<p>"Benedetto never told me," answered Sanselme.</p>
+
+<p>Fanfar went to the mad woman, who was crouching near the door.</p>
+
+<p>"Who are you?" he said. "What is your name?"</p>
+
+<p>She laughed in a stupid way.</p>
+
+<p>"I have no name, I am dead!"</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_412" id="Page_412">[Pg 412]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_LVIII" id="CHAPTER_LVIII"></a>CHAPTER LVIII.</h2>
+
+<h3>GOUTRAN AND CARMEN.</h3>
+
+
+<p>Goutran was really in love, although for a time his attention had been
+distracted by the strange affair of Jane Zeld. But now that calm was in
+a measure restored, Goutran thought of Carmen with quickened pulse. He
+no longer hesitated. He resolved to write to a millionaire uncle of his
+who spent his last days hunting wolves in the Ardennes, and beg him to
+come up and lay his proposal before the banker. He told Esperance what
+he meant to do, and the Vicomte encouraged the plan.</p>
+
+<p>When he had come to this conclusion, he was astonished to find that the
+same indecision again attacked him. Why did he hesitate? He would have
+been at a loss to say. He determined, however, on one of two things,
+either to ask Carmen's hand or never see her again. He had been with
+Esperance for forty-eight hours, encouraging him and ministering to
+Jane, and now he felt the need of fresh air. He walked toward Saint
+Cloud, softly saying to himself among the green trees:</p>
+
+<p>"I love her! I love her!"</p>
+
+<p>On his return the decision was made. He would write to his uncle the
+next day. As he entered the h&ocirc;tel, the concierge said to him
+mysteriously:</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_413" id="Page_413">[Pg 413]</a></span></p><p>"There was a lady here, sir."</p>
+
+<p>"A lady! What lady?"</p>
+
+<p>"Ah! sir, that I can't say. My discretion was too great to permit me to
+ask her name. I think she is young and pretty, though she was heavily
+vailed. She asked for you, and when I told her you were out she looked
+embarrassed, and finally drew from her pocket a little note which she
+had prepared. She gave it to me, saying it was very urgent."</p>
+
+<p>"A note! Where is it? You should have given it to me at once."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh! it is safe, sir, in my davenport."</p>
+
+<p>A concierge with a davenport! What is the world coming to, thought
+Goutran.</p>
+
+<p>Finally the good man produced the paper in question, rose colored and
+perfumed. Goutran tore it open, but did not read it until he reached his
+own room. The address was in delicate, long letters, the result of
+lessons from an English master. Who could have sent it? He did not know
+the writing. But when he glanced at the signature he with difficulty
+refrained from a cry of surprise. The note was signed, "Carmen de
+L&mdash;&mdash;." These were its contents:</p>
+
+
+<blockquote><p>"<span class="smcap">Monsieur Goutran</span>&mdash;or will you allow me to call you my friend&mdash;I must
+see you at once on matters of vast importance. To-night, at eleven
+o'clock, I shall expect you. Ring at the side door of the h&ocirc;tel; my maid
+will be in attendance. Do not fail, for you and those you love are in
+danger."</p></blockquote>
+
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_414" id="Page_414">[Pg 414]</a></span></p><p>Goutran was amazed. What did these mysterious lines mean? And of whom
+did Carmen speak when she said "those you love"? He was greatly
+disturbed, but he was not the man to hesitate.</p>
+
+<p>At ten o'clock he was already walking up and down a street which
+commanded a view of the H&ocirc;tel Laisangy, but he felt none of the emotion
+natural to a lover going to a rendezvous. He had a feeling of strange
+oppression. Finally the clock struck eleven. The side door was on the
+Rue Saint Honor&eacute;. Goutran was about to ring the bell, when the door was
+opened and a hand was laid on his.</p>
+
+<p>"Come this way," said a woman's voice.</p>
+
+<p>It was the curious maid whom we have already seen. She was enchanted,
+feeling sure that it was a lover she admitted. The stairs were carpeted
+and dimly lighted. Presently he entered Carmen's boudoir, but she was
+not there.</p>
+
+<p>"I will notify the young lady," said the maid, with one of those knowing
+smiles that tell so much.</p>
+
+<p>Goutran was standing with his hat in his hand when Carmen entered. She
+was very simply dressed in black. Her beautiful face was very pale. Her
+blonde hair looked like burnished gold. She extended her hand as he
+advanced with a profound bow.</p>
+
+<p>"Many thanks," she said, "for having come. I hardly dared expect you."</p>
+
+<p>"Why did you doubt me? Did you suppose that I could be deaf to such a
+mark of confidence?"</p>
+
+<p>Carmen smiled sadly.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_415" id="Page_415">[Pg 415]</a></span></p><p>"Yes," she said, "I do feel entire confidence in you, a confidence that
+is most real."</p>
+
+<p>She seated herself and motioned him to a chair, and with her large eyes
+fixed on her companion, was silent for a minute. At last she said,
+abruptly:</p>
+
+<p>"Monsieur Goutran, do you love me?"</p>
+
+<p>At this most unexpected question, Goutran started.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," he answered, gravely. "I love you, and I feel a devotion for you
+which is, perhaps, better than love."</p>
+
+<p>Carmen's long lashes rested on her burning cheeks.</p>
+
+<p>"Your words are sweeter to me than you can well imagine. By and by you
+will understand me better. I need your affection, and I need your
+assistance, but I am about to put your interest in me to a very severe
+test."</p>
+
+<p>"You have but to express your wishes," said Goutran.</p>
+
+<p>Carmen waited. Evidently she had not strength to go on with her
+explanation.</p>
+
+<p>"Listen to me," she resumed. "I owe you a declaration which will remove
+every possibility of a misunderstanding between us. A few days ago, when
+on the terrace of your house my hands rested in yours, I fully realized
+that, so far as you were concerned, a tacit engagement from that moment
+existed between us."</p>
+
+<p>"From that moment," interrupted Goutran, "I felt that if you would
+accept my hand and name&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"And yet you did not apply to Monsieur Laisangy?" said Carmen, gently.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_416" id="Page_416">[Pg 416]</a></span></p><p>"Did you doubt me? I did not dare."</p>
+
+<p>"And you were right, for, Monsieur Goutran, I can never be your wife!"</p>
+
+<p>Goutran rose quickly.</p>
+
+<p>"Was it to break my heart that you summoned me here to-night?" he cried.</p>
+
+<p>"I can never be your wife," repeated Carmen, "because only an unstained
+woman should bear your name!"</p>
+
+<p>Goutran turned deadly pale.</p>
+
+<p>"And I," she continued, "am not such a woman!"</p>
+
+<p>"Ah! Mademoiselle, I cannot understand you."</p>
+
+<p>"Listen to me. Every word I speak I have thoroughly weighed, and I
+understand my duty. I hope my frankness will at least win your esteem,
+and possibly your pity."</p>
+
+<p>"My pity! Ah! Carmen, for God's sake do not say such things!"</p>
+
+<p>"I have not finished. Goutran, I love you, deeply and sincerely. Your
+character, your talents, all inspire me, for the first time in my life,
+with those sentiments which tend to elevate us. Before knowing you I
+passed through life knowing little, and caring little, of what was right
+or what was wrong."</p>
+
+<p>Tears were now pouring down her cheeks.</p>
+
+<p>"I am not the daughter," she sobbed, "I am not the daughter, I am the
+friend, of Monsieur de Laisangy!"</p>
+
+<p>A pained exclamation broke from Goutran's breast, and he hid his face in
+his hands. He felt as if a dagger had struck him in the heart.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_417" id="Page_417">[Pg 417]</a></span></p><p>"Yes," continued Carmen, with a smile of contempt, "this old man, for
+reasons of his own, insisted on my bearing his name. Do not condemn me
+too greatly," she continued, "I was not sixteen when I fell into the
+trap that this man laid for me. Think of it!"</p>
+
+<p>"The miserable scoundrel!"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, he ruined me, body and soul! All the finer instincts of my nature
+he sneered at. He taught me to despise everything&mdash;himself, myself! For
+five long years I endured this martyrdom. When we reached Paris, he
+added another wrong to those he had already inflicted on me. He
+compelled me to profane the sacred name of father, and yet I did not
+realize my shame until the day I met you. I sat to you for my portrait,
+and as you talked I felt a whole new world opening before me. I knew
+then, for the first time, that I was unworthy of the love of an honest
+man. Ah! Goutran, how I have suffered in loving you!"</p>
+
+<p>And the poor girl sank on her knees, a very Magdalen.</p>
+
+<p>Goutran laid his hand on her head.</p>
+
+<p>"Carmen, these avowals prove to me that I was not wrong in thinking you
+the best and the most adorable woman in the world!"</p>
+
+<p>"You do not loathe me, then?"</p>
+
+<p>"Have I any right to be your judge? I have certainly received a sad
+shock."</p>
+
+<p>He lifted her to a chair.</p>
+
+<p>"If you have made me this terrible confidence it is because you wish to
+give me a proof of your great <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_418" id="Page_418">[Pg 418]</a></span>confidence in me. I shall be worthy of
+it, be sure of that. And now, tell me what you wish."</p>
+
+<p>Carmen lifted her sad eyes to his.</p>
+
+<p>"How good you are!" she said, quietly. "But you are right. Now you will
+not doubt my motives nor me?"</p>
+
+<p>"I swear that I will believe every syllable you utter!"</p>
+
+<p>Carmen, after a few moments' consideration, said:</p>
+
+<p>"You are very fond of this young Monte-Cristo?"</p>
+
+<p>"Certainly I am. He is one of the noblest fellows I ever met. But why do
+you speak of him?"</p>
+
+<p>"Because it was to speak of him that I summoned you here to-night. Your
+friend, Goutran, is in great danger, as are you&mdash;and myself, too."</p>
+
+<p>"Danger!"</p>
+
+<p>"We must find some means of avoiding it, but your enemies&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"I have no enemies!"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, and Monsieur de Laisangy is one of them."</p>
+
+<p>"That scoundrel!"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, and he is worse than I supposed, and the other foe is&mdash;but did you
+notice an Italian here, the secretary of the Italian Count?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes&mdash;his name was Fagiano."</p>
+
+<p>"He calls himself Fagiano, but that is not his real name."</p>
+
+<p>"Who is he, then?"</p>
+
+<p>"I cannot say. But listen. For some time I have hated and loathed
+Laisangy. I felt that he was a greater criminal towards others than
+myself, and as my <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_419" id="Page_419">[Pg 419]</a></span>conscience began to stir, I felt my suspicions daily
+increase. At your <i>soir&eacute;e</i> I noticed that this man whom I called father
+started and turned pale when he heard the name of Monte-Cristo, and then
+he invented some pretext to leave the room."</p>
+
+<p>"I remember," said Goutran.</p>
+
+<p>"Then, when we were on the terrace&mdash;" Carmen hesitated. There were
+memories connected with that terrace which she did not care to approach.</p>
+
+<p>Goutran said, kindly:</p>
+
+<p>"Go on, dear child."</p>
+
+<p>"I do not know if you remember as well as myself a dispute which we, in
+a measure, overheard. I recognized Laisangy's voice, and the
+disconnected words confirmed my suspicions. Early the next morning I
+sent for him and questioned him very closely, and in a most peremptory
+manner. In the midst of our animated discussion a card was brought in.
+This Signor Fagiano had called to see Monsieur de Laisangy.</p>
+
+<p>"I heard no more of him, saw no more of him, until yesterday, when, as I
+entered the h&ocirc;tel, I saw Fagiano coming in. I at once ran into
+Laisangy's private office, and reached it first, where I hid in a
+closet, ready to listen to every word. Do not reprove me. All means are
+lawful when dangers threaten those you love, and some instinct taught me
+that I should learn something of you and the Vicomte."</p>
+
+<p>Goutran kissed Carmen's hand as his sole reply.</p>
+
+<p>"The two men came in a moment or two, and I at once learned from the
+first words they uttered that <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_420" id="Page_420">[Pg 420]</a></span>they were associates in some crime. What
+it is I know not, but Fagiano said:</p>
+
+<p>"'I have done it, and now our vengeance is certain. But I need money.'</p>
+
+<p>"'I have already told you that I would give it to you. Here is what you
+want. And now, what do you mean to do?'</p>
+
+<p>"'She is in my power now, and I shall soon have him, too.'</p>
+
+<p>"'No imprudence! We must not be compromised.'</p>
+
+<p>"'I am hardly foolish enough for that. I will torture Monte-Cristo's
+son, but not in a way that the law can reach!'</p>
+
+<p>"'Let him be tortured! Let him pay for all the agony his father has
+inflicted on me!'</p>
+
+<p>"'You shall be satisfied!'</p>
+
+<p>"The two men then walked away still talking, but in such low voices that
+I could not hear. I rushed from my hiding-place and hastened to my room.
+I had learned little, it is true; but what I heard had opened wide and
+fearful possibilities. I knew Monsieur de Laisangy, and knew that he
+would stop at nothing. It would be useless for me to interfere openly,
+and then I thought of you."</p>
+
+<p>"And you we're right in sending for me. In your recital, however, there
+are many points that are obscure. Thank you for warning me. You asked
+me, a few moments since, if I loved Esperance. I look upon him as my
+brother, and I would give my life to spare him a pang."</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_421" id="Page_421">[Pg 421]</a></span></p><p>"But of whom did the man speak when he said, '<i>she</i> is in my power'?"</p>
+
+<p>"I do not venture to say; but in an hour we shall know."</p>
+
+<p>The young man turned toward the door. Carmen came to his side and gave
+him her hand. He drew her to his breast.</p>
+
+<p>"You have hurt me, Carmen, but I respect you more than ever, and I love
+you!"</p>
+
+<p>"Ah!" she said, passionately, "those words from your lips have made me
+your slave. I belong to you from this moment! I will mount guard over
+the enemy, and we will work together!"</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_422" id="Page_422">[Pg 422]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_LIX" id="CHAPTER_LIX"></a>CHAPTER LIX.</h2>
+
+<h3>UPON THE TRACK.</h3>
+
+
+<p>Goutran left Carmen's room, his brain all in a whirl. It was late, but
+the young man knew not too late to go to the Vicomte's. Throwing himself
+into a carriage, he drove to the h&ocirc;tel in the Champs Elys&eacute;es. He was
+amazed to find it in total darkness, and when he asked for the Vicomte,
+was surprised at the embarrassed manner of the Swiss, as well as to hear
+that Esperance was out, without leaving word when he would return.</p>
+
+<p>"And Madame Caraman and Coucon?"</p>
+
+<p>"They are out too, sir."</p>
+
+<p>While Goutran was thus impatiently questioning the man, a carriage
+stopped, from which descended Fanfar, Sanselme, Coucon and Madame
+Caraman.</p>
+
+<p>"Ah! Monsieur Goutran!" exclaimed Fanfar, "I have just been to your
+rooms, and am thankful to meet you here. I am anxious to consult with
+you."</p>
+
+<p>"You know, then, what is going on?" cried Goutran.</p>
+
+<p>"I think I do; but let us go up-stairs; before we begin the fray, it is
+well to understand the battlefield, and to become familiar with it."</p>
+
+<p>As he said this, Fanfar entered the vestibule, but the Swiss hurried
+after him.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_423" id="Page_423">[Pg 423]</a></span></p><p>"But, sir," he said, in some confusion, "in the absence of the Count and
+his son, I really cannot&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Shut yourself up in your room, and pay no heed to what is going on
+here," Fanfar replied, sternly, showing, as he spoke, a ring that he
+wore on his finger.</p>
+
+<p>It belonged to Monte-Cristo, and had been entrusted to Fanfar by the
+Count when he went away. This ring was well known to every one of the
+Count's people. The man bowed low.</p>
+
+<p>"I beg your pardon, sir. Shall I call the footman?"</p>
+
+<p>"No; and on your life do not admit a living creature. You understand
+me?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, sir."</p>
+
+<p>They ascended the stairs and entered the large rooms one after the
+other. When the Vicomte's cabinet was entered, it was found all in
+disorder.</p>
+
+<p>"The Vicomte, you see, has taken his pistols," said Coucon.</p>
+
+<p>"What time did the Vicomte go?" asked Fanfar.</p>
+
+<p>"I know not," answered Coucon, "and Madame was weeping so bitterly that
+she was of little use."</p>
+
+<p>Fanfar was annoyed that he could elicit so little, knowing well that if
+Monte-Cristo were there his eagle eye would have discovered something.</p>
+
+<p>"Send me the porter," he said.</p>
+
+<p>And when the man appeared, he asked at what hour the Vicomte went out
+last. The man, in some confusion, replied that he did not see him go
+out.</p>
+
+<p>"You were absent from your post, then?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, sir, I was not. I was not away for one moment yesterday."</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_424" id="Page_424">[Pg 424]</a></span></p><p>"And you saw every one who came in and went out?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, sir. The Vicomte did go out, but he came in again."</p>
+
+<p>"Came in!" cried Madame and Coucon, together.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes; it was about an hour after that, when you came and told me he had
+disappeared. I thought that he might have gone out, and I not heeded
+it."</p>
+
+<p>"And may not this have been so?" asked Fanfar. "If the Vicomte is not in
+the h&ocirc;tel, he must have gone out, you know."</p>
+
+<p>"I beg to observe, sir, that the Vicomte might have gone out by the
+small door which communicates directly with his apartment; but every
+night when I shut up the house I bolt that door, and it is still bolted;
+so that my young master did not go that way. It is possible, of course,
+that he could have passed my door without my seeing him. I can't always
+answer for myself; but I have proof that he did not do this."</p>
+
+<p>"What is your proof?"</p>
+
+<p>"Every night I fasten the great door with a chain and padlock and take
+the key. If any one wishes to go out in the night he must call me. As
+soon as the Vicomte came in I put up this chain. I assure you, sir, that
+I am speaking the truth. At first I was troubled and afraid I had been
+careless, but since I have collected my ideas, I am sure that I have
+nothing to reproach myself with."</p>
+
+<p>"Do you mean to say, then," cried Coucon, "that the Vicomte walked
+through the wall?"</p>
+
+<p>"It is very strange," said Fanfar, thoughtfully. "And now, my friends,"
+he added, turning to Coucon and <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_425" id="Page_425">[Pg 425]</a></span>Madame, "you may leave me here with
+Monsieur Goutran."</p>
+
+<p>"And with me?" added Bobichel.</p>
+
+<p>"You can stay, if you will. I may need you."</p>
+
+<p>"But, Monsieur Fanfar," said poor Madame, "I think we, too, are good for
+something. You ought not to send us away."</p>
+
+<p>The poor woman was greatly distressed.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh! I have something for you to do. Examine the garden carefully, and
+if you see the smallest thing that is unusual, come to me instantly."</p>
+
+<p>"There won't be a corner in which I shall not put my nose, be sure of
+that!" cried Coucon.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh! if the Count were only here!" sighed Madame.</p>
+
+<p>Fanfar was alone with Bobichel and Goutran.</p>
+
+<p>"Have you anything to suggest?" he said, suddenly turning to Goutran.
+"Do you know of any secret egress from this h&ocirc;tel?"</p>
+
+<p>"None whatever," answered the artist.</p>
+
+<p>"And yet you will observe that the girl was not carried away by either
+of the doors that are known, and she is gone!"</p>
+
+<p>"I did not think of that! There is unquestionably some issue known only
+to the Count."</p>
+
+<p>"Alas! the Count's enemies know it, also," answered Fanfar.</p>
+
+<p>"Let us go to the room that the girl was in&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"I was about to make that proposal. Now is the time, Bobichel," said
+Fanfar, turning to the former clown, "to see if we cannot regain a
+little of our cleverness."</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_426" id="Page_426">[Pg 426]</a></span></p><p>"I am ready, even to go through the eye of a needle, if it be
+necessary!" answered Bobichel.</p>
+
+<p>Goutran took a candle and led the way. When they reached Jane's room
+Fanfar took up a position in the centre of it, examined the ceiling, the
+floor and the walls. Then Bobichel explored every inch of the floor,
+which was covered with a thick carpet. But nothing could be found.</p>
+
+<p>"This is most extraordinary," murmured Fanfar, "and yet I am convinced
+that I am on the track."</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly Bobichel uttered an exclamation. "Here is something, master!"</p>
+
+<p>Fanfar and Goutran hastened to him. In one of the silk folds of the
+hanging on the wall there was a bit of white lace, evidently torn from
+something.</p>
+
+<p>"I recognize that," said Goutran. "I ordered the peignoirs she required,
+for we did not wish to admit any one into our secrets; and that lace
+trimmed one of the peignoirs."</p>
+
+<p>"And now we have it!" shouted Bobichel, inserting the blade of his knife
+in one of the plaits of the silk.</p>
+
+<p>Fanfar said hastily, "It is an iron door, and there must be a spring.
+Let us try, each of us, and feel over the whole wall, if it is
+necessary."</p>
+
+<p>They went to work, and presently Bobichel was lucky enough to press a
+little knob. A panel slowly opened, and a puff of warm air came full in
+the eager faces of the anxious men. With the light of their candles they
+saw a well-finished passage and two or three stairs; it was too dark to
+see more.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_427" id="Page_427">[Pg 427]</a></span></p><p>"This is the way that Jane was abducted, and this is the way that
+Esperance went. Let us see where it goes." And Fanfar started first.</p>
+
+<p>Hardly had they reached the stairs than they heard the iron door close
+behind them. In spite of all their courage, they shuddered. Had the door
+shut of itself, or had it been closed by some invisible enemy? They
+turned back hastily, but there was not the smallest sign to be seen of
+door or spring.</p>
+
+<p>"What had we best do?" asked Goutran, uneasily.</p>
+
+<p>Fanfar reflected a moment. "As we cannot go back, let us hasten forward
+with all possible speed. We will find the way out."</p>
+
+<p>"Or we will make one!" cried Bobichel.</p>
+
+<p>The three friends started once more, Bobichel in front, holding a heavy
+bronze candelabra.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_428" id="Page_428">[Pg 428]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_LX" id="CHAPTER_LX"></a>CHAPTER LX.</h2>
+
+<h3>ESPERANCE IN DESPAIR.</h3>
+
+
+<p>It was indeed by this mysterious path that Esperance had gone. When he
+heard that Jane was not to be found, he at first could hardly comprehend
+what was said. He ran to Jane's room and looked about, then scarce
+knowing what he did, he left the house and then returned to it, after
+having wandered over Paris for two or three hours. No one noticed his
+pallor when he entered the h&ocirc;tel. He went to Jane's room again, and
+there, lying back in a low chair, he looked about with sad eyes.</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly he saw a panel slowly open in the wall. He was not afraid.
+Esperance did not know the sensation, and now he simply expected some
+revelation. He instantly knew that this was the path by which Jane had
+been taken away. He rose and entered the dark corridor. He had no light,
+and the door at once closed behind him; but he had inherited his
+father's singular power of seeing in the dark.</p>
+
+<p>He discovered the stairs, and began to descend them. He went on and on,
+and then another corridor, and then more stairs. Finally he reached a
+door, which he opened, and entered a large room hung with silk. It was
+one of the houses which had been so useful to Monte-Cristo years before.
+The path by which Espe<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_429" id="Page_429">[Pg 429]</a></span>rance had come crossed the Champs Elys&eacute;es under
+ground, and communicated with this house.</p>
+
+<p>All was magnificent, but Esperance saw nothing. Nothing but a lacquer
+table on which lay a letter. This letter contained the words, "If the
+son of Monte-Cristo be not a coward, if he wishes to find her whom he
+has lost, he will go from here to a certain Malvernet, who lives at
+Courberrie. There he will learn what he wishes to know, and will act as
+he deems best."</p>
+
+<p>Esperance was delighted. He did not stop to think of the singularity of
+finding this note in this place. What did he care for this mystery that
+surrounded him? He had found Jane Zeld, or rather he had found traces of
+her. He went to the chimney to look at the clock, for he had lost all
+idea of time, and happening to see his own face in the mirror, he could
+not repress a start. He looked to himself at least ten years older than
+when he last stood before a mirror. He wondered at himself, when he
+remembered his father, whose youth seemed eternal, in spite of the
+trials through which he had passed. When he went out from the h&ocirc;tel the
+first time he had mechanically put in his pocket a pair of revolvers&mdash;he
+had them now.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_430" id="Page_430">[Pg 430]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_LXI" id="CHAPTER_LXI"></a>CHAPTER LXI.</h2>
+
+<h3>ESPERANCE GOES TO COURBERRIE.</h3>
+
+
+<p>Twenty years since Courberrie was very far from what it is to-day. The
+houses were scattered and much fewer. Along the Seine extended deserted
+fields, against which the sullen tide rose and fell. In one of these
+fields stood an old wooden house which was not inhabited, for both wind
+and rain penetrated its roof and walls. On this especial night, however,
+any one familiar with the locality would have been astonished to see a
+light gleam through the worm-eaten shutters. In one room was a chair and
+a table. On the table was a lamp, but there was no other furniture.</p>
+
+<p>Pacing the room, and occasionally stopping to listen to the storm that
+shook the old house like the bones of a skeleton, was a man&mdash;a reddish
+beard covered half his face. He was dressed in black, and had thrown a
+cloak and broad-brimmed hat on the table.</p>
+
+<p>"Will he come?" he muttered, "will the long-expected hour ever strike?"</p>
+
+<p>A slight sound was heard without. The dry branches crackled; the man
+started, then snatched his hat and pulled it well down over his
+forehead. The hand that was hidden in the folds of the cloak which he
+threw over his shoulders, held a dagger.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_431" id="Page_431">[Pg 431]</a></span></p><p>"I won't use it, though!" he said aloud, "his sufferings would be too
+brief!"</p>
+
+<p>There came a knock at the door.</p>
+
+<p>"Does a man named Malvernet live here?" asked a voice.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, come in," and the door was thrown wide open.</p>
+
+<p>Esperance entered.</p>
+
+<p>"What do you want of me? I am Malvernet," said a gruff voice.</p>
+
+<p>Esperance looked about the room. The man was alone, and Esperance knew
+that he could defend himself.</p>
+
+<p>"Do you know who I am?" he asked.</p>
+
+<p>"No. I was told to wait for a man here, who would come. I have done as I
+was bidden, that is all."</p>
+
+<p>"I will tell you then. I am Esperance, the son of the Count of
+Monte-Cristo. I am rich, so rich that I do not myself know how much I
+have. Now if you obey me faithfully, I will make you so rich that every
+wish you have will be realized."</p>
+
+<p>A sneer was on Malvernet's lips.</p>
+
+<p>"You offer me money, do you, and why? Tell me what you want of me?"</p>
+
+<p>"Scoundrels entered my house in the night&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"And robbed you?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, they robbed me of a treasure&mdash;a treasure for which I would give
+all else I have in the world. They carried away a young girl whom I
+love."</p>
+
+<p>"And the girl's name?"</p>
+
+<p>"Jane. And now I wish you to take me to her."</p>
+
+<p>"And if I refuse?"</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_432" id="Page_432">[Pg 432]</a></span></p><p>"I will kill you!" answered Esperance, coldly.</p>
+
+<p>The other began to laugh noisily.</p>
+
+<p>"No," he said, "you will not kill me! You know that if you did that,
+with me would disappear every trace of her whom you love, and you would
+say to yourself, if he refuses to-day he may yield to-morrow. You see,
+son of Monte-Cristo, that your threats are preposterous and can't
+frighten me."</p>
+
+<p>"Then you refuse to do as I ask?"</p>
+
+<p>"By no means. Only I wish to prove to you that these grand airs are
+simply foolish. You need me, but I do not need you. The game is not
+equal!"</p>
+
+<p>"You are right," said Esperance, "and I ask your pardon."</p>
+
+<p>The eyes of Benedetto&mdash;for it was Benedetto&mdash;flashed with triumph to see
+the son of his enemy thus humble. He had him in his power now and could
+kill him if he pleased, but death would not have assuaged his thirst for
+vengeance.</p>
+
+<p>"All right," he said, "I was a little provoked with you, but I will
+help you now."</p>
+
+<p>Esperance uttered an exclamation of thankfulness.</p>
+
+<p>"Then let us hasten. When I have found Jane, ask me for my life if you
+choose."</p>
+
+<p>Benedetto opened the door.</p>
+
+<p>"Go on, sir, I will follow you."</p>
+
+<p>And as they went out, Benedetto muttered:</p>
+
+<p>"You little know what you say. Your life is indeed mine, and I mean to
+have it."</p>
+
+<p>The night was excessively dark, but Esperance felt <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_433" id="Page_433">[Pg 433]</a></span>neither rain nor
+wind; his fever was so great that he was not cold.</p>
+
+<p>Ah! Monte-Cristo, where are you? Here is your son rushing into the most
+terrible danger, and you far away!</p>
+
+<p>Through the darkness Esperance followed Benedetto the assassin. Suddenly
+it seemed to him that the obscurity was rent away like a vail.</p>
+
+<p>"Where are we?" he said to his guide.</p>
+
+<p>"On the bank of the Seine. We have not far to go. Are you afraid?"</p>
+
+<p>Esperance did not reply to this insulting question.</p>
+
+<p>"Go on!" he said.</p>
+
+<p>Presently they stopped before a dark building. Not a light was to be
+seen. Benedetto turned to the son of Monte-Cristo.</p>
+
+<p>"This is the place to which I agreed to bring you."</p>
+
+<p>"Do you mean that my beloved Jane is in this house?"</p>
+
+<p>"She is here."</p>
+
+<p>"I cannot believe it. The whole thing is a plot!"</p>
+
+<p>"Will you kindly tell me, sir," said Benedetto, "why I should take the
+trouble to come all this way? A half hour since we were together where
+no human eye could see us, nor human ear hear us. What would have
+prevented my attacking you then, had my intentions been sinister?"</p>
+
+<p>"That is true; but tell me that you are mistaken&mdash;that my poor Jane is
+not here!"</p>
+
+<p>At this moment shrill laughter and ribald songs came from the house near
+which Esperance stood.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_434" id="Page_434">[Pg 434]</a></span></p><p>"Let us go in!" cried the Vicomte. "Jane must not stay here one other
+minute."</p>
+
+<p>"Come, then," answered Benedetto, "you shall be satisfied."</p>
+
+<p>He opened the door, but it was as dark within as without. Esperance
+heard the door close; he spoke, but there was no answer. He stretched
+out his arms and felt the wall, and instantly his eyes regained their
+peculiar facility of sight. He was alone in a small, square room without
+door or window. He uttered a cry of rage.</p>
+
+<p>"I have been deceived! The scoundrel!"</p>
+
+<p>But at the same moment the wall opened before him like two sliding
+panels, but in the place of the wall were iron bars. And through these
+bars Esperance beheld Jane, but what he saw was so terrible that he
+recoiled and uttered a cry of terror, which was drowned in shrieks of
+laughter, wild songs and the clatter of glasses.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_435" id="Page_435">[Pg 435]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_LXII" id="CHAPTER_LXII"></a>CHAPTER LXII.</h2>
+
+<h3>COUCON.</h3>
+
+
+<p>Goutran had entire faith in Carmen, and he was now anxious to
+communicate with her. He called the former Zouave.</p>
+
+<p>"Coucon," he said, "do you know where Monsieur Laisangy lives?"</p>
+
+<p>"The great banker? Oh! yes, sir, everybody knows that."</p>
+
+<p>"Then without losing one minute, I want you to go to his h&ocirc;tel. This
+note must be given to his daughter at once."</p>
+
+<p>"To Miss Carmen, sir?"</p>
+
+<p>"Precisely; but understand me&mdash;no one else must see it. This note must
+be given into her hands."</p>
+
+<p>"I understand, sir; it shall be done. There is nothing I would not do,
+sir, to repair my own stupidity."</p>
+
+<p>Coucon started off. To go to the h&ocirc;tel and ask for Miss Carmen was
+simple enough, but he took it into his head that it would be better if
+no one knew that he was there. He thought he would examine the premises
+before he decided on his course of action.</p>
+
+<p>When he reached the h&ocirc;tel, to his great surprise he found the doors wide
+open and the courtyard blazing with lights. Carriage after carriage was
+driving up, and stopping at the vestibule.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_436" id="Page_436">[Pg 436]</a></span></p><p>"Upon my life," said Coucon, "this is bad enough."</p>
+
+<p>He stepped into a wine-shop, and asked for a bottle of wine; as he drank
+it he said to himself: "How the deuce am I to see Miss Carmen? She is in
+the salon receiving her guests. Of course, she won't come into the
+anteroom to get a <i>billet doux</i>, but if the mountain won't come to
+Mohammed, Mohammed must go to the mountain, which means, that if Miss
+Carmen won't come to me in the anteroom, I must go to her!"</p>
+
+<p>At this moment a Chasseur d'Afrique entered the wine-shop.</p>
+
+<p>"Will you have the kindness to tell me," he asked, of the shop-keeper,
+"where I shall find the h&ocirc;tel of a rich banker about here? Laisangy, I
+think, is the name."</p>
+
+<p>"Almost opposite&mdash;where all those carriages stand."</p>
+
+<p>"Ah! thanks!" And as the soldier turned round he saw Coucon.</p>
+
+<p>The recognition was mutual, and the two former companions fell into each
+other's arms.</p>
+
+<p>"Galaret!" cried Coucon.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. And now let us have a glass."</p>
+
+<p>"Can't stop, have a commission to perform!"</p>
+
+<p>Nevertheless, Coucon did stop to drink a little, and to gossip. "When
+did you come to Paris?" he asked.</p>
+
+<p>"This very day, in the escort of Mohammed-Ben-Omar, a sort of Pasha, you
+know, and to-night he slipped on the stairs and wrenched his ankle. Take
+another glass, friend. Well, as I was saying, he was asked to this
+<i>soir&eacute;e</i> at the banker's and had to write <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_437" id="Page_437">[Pg 437]</a></span>a refusal. As he lies on his
+sofa, and is likely to lie there for some little time, this note I must
+deliver."</p>
+
+<p>Coucon did not seem to hear what his friend was saying, but suddenly
+exclaimed to an innocent looking bourgeois, at another table:</p>
+
+<p>"What are you staring at?"</p>
+
+<p>In vain did the man stammer that he was not even looking at them. One
+word led to another until a hot quarrel was in progress, the police were
+called in, and Galaret was arrested.</p>
+
+<p>"Give me your note," said Coucon, in the most obliging manner, "I will
+see that it is delivered."</p>
+
+<p>And he dashed out of the shop with suspicious alacrity. "You are a fool,
+Coucon," he said to himself, "if you don't manage to deliver your own
+note at the same time!"</p>
+
+<p>Our readers must not suppose that Coucon was so simple as to think of
+penetrating the Laisangy salons, even with the note he had obtained in
+so abominable a manner from his friend. The plan he had devised was more
+audacious and more sure. Ten minutes later the former Zouave entered the
+shop of a costumer in the Rue de P&eacute;l&eacute;tere. And in five minutes more he
+sallied forth a magnificent Bedouin, draped in white and wearing an
+enormous turban. He called out to the astonished coachman:</p>
+
+<p>"Rue de Rivoli! and drive fast!"</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_438" id="Page_438">[Pg 438]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_LXIII" id="CHAPTER_LXIII"></a>CHAPTER LXIII.</h2>
+
+<h3>CARMEN KEEPS HER WORD.</h3>
+
+
+<p>"I will watch the enemy," Carmen had said to Goutran, when they parted.
+The enemy was the man who had taken advantage of her inexperience, and
+induced her to call him father. Why had she not realized what she was
+doing sooner? She had, however, shown her womanly courage by the
+confession she had made to Goutran, and now she found herself without
+shield or buckler in opposition to the man under whose roof she lived.
+She resolved to defend Goutran and all those he loved. Woe to whomsoever
+should attack them.</p>
+
+<p>That same morning, Laisangy asked to be received by her. She was quite
+ready for another quarrel, but Laisangy was amiable and smiling, for he
+had at that moment heard from Benedetto that his vengeance was near
+being accomplished.</p>
+
+<p>Strangely enough this man Laisangy was in deadly terror of Monte-Cristo,
+and fully estimated the almost superhuman power of this wonderful man.
+But when Benedetto appeared before him and he found that there was one
+villain greater than himself, he was encouraged and comforted. What joy
+it would be to torture, without danger to himself, the soul of him whom
+he had so feared.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_439" id="Page_439">[Pg 439]</a></span></p><p>Danglars had given himself, soul and body, to Benedetto, as in legends a
+man abandons himself to a demon. He smiled as he entered Carmen's room.</p>
+
+<p>"What do you want of me?" she said, coldly.</p>
+
+<p>"You have not forgotten that we give a grand reception this evening."</p>
+
+<p>"This evening! Surely you mistake&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"No. This is your own list of invitations that I hold in my hand."</p>
+
+<p>Carmen had forgotten entirely that these invitations had been sent out a
+week before.</p>
+
+<p>Laisangy looked at her closely.</p>
+
+<p>"I fancied," he said, "that this entertainment had escaped your memory."</p>
+
+<p>"I certainly shall not appear!" answered Carmen.</p>
+
+<p>The banker bit his lips, this was precisely what he feared. He began to
+argue the matter gently. And she, in her turn, began to reflect. She saw
+on the list the name of Goutran, which she had written with a breaking
+heart. After all, had she the right to desert her post?</p>
+
+<p>"Very well," she said, "I will be present."</p>
+
+<p>Laisangy was astonished at his prompt success.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," she repeated, "on condition that you do not once call me your
+daughter."</p>
+
+<p>"What shall I call you?" stammered Laisangy.</p>
+
+<p>"Whatever you choose, only take care that you do not disobey me!"</p>
+
+<p>In fact, the banker cared little upon this point. He had obtained what
+he wanted. His f&ecirc;te would be made brilliant by Carmen's presence. He did
+not <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_440" id="Page_440">[Pg 440]</a></span>retire, however, and the girl saw that he had something else to
+say.</p>
+
+<p>"What more do you want?" she asked, impatiently.</p>
+
+<p>"My dear child," began Laisangy, with some pomposity, "you have,
+doubtless, ere this discovered that matters of finance are composed of a
+thousand details more important than those of diplomacy."</p>
+
+<p>"I have certainly learned that swindling is a troublesome business," she
+said through her teeth, and with intense disdain.</p>
+
+<p>Laisangy pretended not to hear this.</p>
+
+<p>"To-night," he said, with perfect <i>sang froid</i>, "we leave the
+Tuileries."</p>
+
+<p>He had counted on the effect of these words. Carmen shrugged her
+shoulders, which certainly was not respectful to the Emperor.</p>
+
+<p>"And I am greatly disturbed," continued the banker. "It may be necessary
+for me to leave for an hour. I shall pretend indisposition, which may be
+attributed to the heat, and while I am supposed to be recovering in my
+own room, I can go out and attend to my affairs."</p>
+
+<p>"You may be obliged to go out, then?"</p>
+
+<p>"Certainly; did you not understand?"</p>
+
+<p>"Why do you not tell me that you wish to go to the Bourse?"</p>
+
+<p>Laisangy was annoyed. He saw that Carmen was on the <i>qui vive</i>, and
+Carmen said to herself: "What does this mean? He is lying, and some
+infernal machination is on foot. I must learn what it is."</p>
+
+<p>She replied more gently:</p>
+
+<p>"But I care little about these matters; the Bourse <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_441" id="Page_441">[Pg 441]</a></span>does not interest
+me. At what hour did you say you might be called away?"</p>
+
+<p>"About midnight."</p>
+
+<p>"Very good. Then you would like me, I suppose, to be very anxious about
+you, and urge you to withdraw?"</p>
+
+<p>"Precisely!" answered the banker, much pleased. "Ah, Carmen, how well
+you understand me. Had you chosen, we two would have governed France!"</p>
+
+<p>"Not I!" answered Carmen, abruptly. "We are companions, not accomplices.
+I do not understand you, and I do not propose to aid you in your
+infamy."</p>
+
+<p>At this word Laisangy started, and thus confirmed the suspicions of
+Carmen, who was watching him.</p>
+
+<p>He took her hand, and she withdrew it quickly. He had obtained what he
+desired, and was now ready to depart.</p>
+
+<p>"What is he planning?" said Carmen to herself. "Is it really some
+financial operation, which, of course, I care nothing about, or is
+it&mdash;&mdash;?"</p>
+
+<p>Goutran's name rose to her lips. All day she watched him, but saw
+nothing to justify her in her belief, and yet she knew that her woman's
+instinct had not played her false. Over and over again she was tempted
+to retract her promise, for the idea of this f&ecirc;te was intolerable to
+her. She thought of Goutran, and remembered that she might save him.</p>
+
+<p>The evening came, and Carmen's maid could hardly believe it was she who
+replied:</p>
+
+<p>"What dress, did you say? I don't care in the least!"</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_442" id="Page_442">[Pg 442]</a></span></p><p>Nevertheless, when Carmen appeared in the salons there was an audible
+murmur of admiration. In her white dress, with a few flowers in her
+beautiful hair, Carmen had never been more beautiful. She moved slowly
+through the rooms, looking for Goutran, who was not there, as we know.</p>
+
+<p>Little did Carmen care for these men and women, who were the tools and
+slaves of the man of December. Laisangy was radiant, however. Carmen
+shivered whenever she looked at him. It seemed to her that he was in a
+state of unusual excitement.</p>
+
+<p>The orchestra was playing delightfully, and lacqueys were announcing the
+first names of the empire&mdash;counts, and barons, and princes. Suddenly a
+new name was heard:</p>
+
+<p>"Mohammed-Ben-Omar!"</p>
+
+<p>And a magnificent personage, wearing the Legion of Honor on his white
+bournous, entered the room. Every one turned to look at him. He was a
+magnificent looking Arab. With a gravity that was truly oriental, and
+with his face half concealed in the folds of his mantle, his brown hands
+folded on his breast, Mohammed-Ben-Omar advanced.</p>
+
+<p>Laisangy went forward to meet him. In fact, he could hardly believe in
+his good fortune. Mohammed-Ben-Omar belonged to that class of Algerians
+who, listening to the counsel of French financiers, always cherished the
+project of making Algeria into a veritable El Dorado, and had now come
+to France to lend the support of his name and authority to some one of
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_443" id="Page_443">[Pg 443]</a></span>the speculations built on the sands of the desert, of which the
+Tuileries people were so fond.</p>
+
+<p>Laisangy, learning of his arrival in Paris, had hastened to send him an
+invitation, but had hardly hoped to see him. He was, therefore, more
+than usually civil.</p>
+
+<p>Ben-Omar replied to his courtesies only by carrying his hand to his
+heart and then to his forehead, in the recognized Mussulman manner. He
+did not speak one word of French, and yet, when Carmen passed, he said
+"Beautiful!" with a guttural intonation.</p>
+
+<p>"My daughter, sir!" answered the banker, with pride.</p>
+
+<p>"Beautiful! beautiful!" repeated the Mohammedan.</p>
+
+<p>Laisangy signed to Omar to accompany him to the group where Carmen was
+talking. There he went through the ceremony of introduction. Then,
+leaning toward her, Omar said, under his breath:</p>
+
+<p>"I come from Goutran. Allah il Allah!" he added, aloud.</p>
+
+<p>Carmen started. Never was she so astonished. The name of Goutran from
+these lips was like lightning from a clear sky. She looked at the Arab's
+bronze face and his huge moustache.</p>
+
+<p>"Take His Excellency's arm," said Laisangy, "and show him the gallery
+and statuary."</p>
+
+<p>Carmen hesitated, but Omar at once threw his bournous aside and offered
+the young lady his arm.</p>
+
+<p>Laisangy whispered in Carmen's ear:</p>
+
+<p>"Do not delay too long. I have received the signal and must do what was
+agreed upon between us."</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_444" id="Page_444">[Pg 444]</a></span></p><p>Carmen paid little heed to these words, but moved through the crowd on
+Omar's arm, slowly and thoughtfully. Omar was very solemn, but under his
+moustache he whispered:</p>
+
+<p>"I come from Monsieur Goutran."</p>
+
+<p>"Who are you?" she asked, raising her fan to hide her lips as she spoke.</p>
+
+<p>Whenever the crowd came too near he raised his arm, and with a grand
+sweep of bournous, hand and arm, he said:</p>
+
+<p>"Allah il Allah! Rassoul il Allah!"</p>
+
+<p>Everybody drew back much impressed, for the incomprehensible has always
+great power.</p>
+
+<p>At last, Omar and Carmen were alone in a small salon.</p>
+
+<p>"Will you tell me who you are?" asked Carmen once again.</p>
+
+<p>"I am Coucon&mdash;devoted to Monsieur Goutran and to Esperance, the son of
+Monte-Cristo."</p>
+
+<p>"And you disguised yourself to see me?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, for I had a note to bring from Monsieur Goutran."</p>
+
+<p>"Give it to me!" Carmen cried.</p>
+
+<p>When at last Coucon succeeded in finding it among the folds of his
+bournous, she snatched it from him.</p>
+
+<p>This is what she read:</p>
+
+
+<blockquote><p>"Carmen, my friend and my ally, you have promised your assistance.
+Gladly do I claim it. My friends are in great peril. Jane Zeld has
+vanished in the most mysterious manner, as has Esperance. There must be
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_445" id="Page_445">[Pg 445]</a></span>in the H&ocirc;tel de Monte-Cristo some secret issue which our enemies do not
+know. The infamous L&mdash;&mdash; must possess this secret. Do your best to
+discover it. You see that I place my reliance on you, for I love you.</p>
+
+<p>"<span class="smcap">Goutran</span>."</p></blockquote>
+
+
+<p>Carmen uttered a joyous exclamation. Goutran loved her! Coucon turned
+toward her.</p>
+
+<p>"Well," he asked, "what am I to tell him?"</p>
+
+<p>"Return to Monsieur Goutran and tell him that if it costs me my life I
+will discover what he wishes to know. And remember that you must open
+the door of the h&ocirc;tel to me at whatever time I may come. Of course, you
+and Monsieur Goutran will be there all night. Now, go!"</p>
+
+<p>At this moment a terrified looking servant entered the room.</p>
+
+<p>"Mademoiselle," he said, "your father has just been taken ill."</p>
+
+<p>Omar respectfully saluted the young girl, and was lost in the crowd. No
+one noticed him, for there was much excitement over the illness of the
+great financier. Carmen followed the lacquey with rather too slow a step
+for the occasion. She was intensely irritated at this new comedy, and
+she was tempted to cry out to the crowd:</p>
+
+<p>"He lies! He has always lied!"</p>
+
+<p>Laisangy was lying back in his chair. There was no physician in the
+room, and yet the people about him talked knowingly of bleeding him.
+Fortunately for him, Carmen arrived.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_446" id="Page_446">[Pg 446]</a></span></p><p>"I know what it is," she said; "he has had similar attacks before. He
+will be better after a little rest."</p>
+
+<p>And Carmen gave orders that the banker should be carried to his chamber.
+Then excusing herself to her guests, she followed.</p>
+
+<p>Laisangy, who was becoming greatly bored by the part he was playing,
+supposed that Carmen would dismiss the servants and remain with him
+herself; but she had quite other plans. She bade the men undress their
+master and put him in his bed. Laisangy was ready to swear at her, but,
+of course, he was too ill to dispute. If he suddenly revived and made a
+row, then the story would get about of the ridiculous comedy he had
+played. His patience was not long tried, however. Carmen only wanted to
+gain a little time, in which she might hope to discover the contents of
+a letter which she saw the banker receive and put in his pocket early in
+the evening. She found the letter and retired into the next room to read
+it.</p>
+
+<p>"Vengeance is assured. Fanfar and Goutran are prisoners in the house of
+Monte-Cristo. As to the girl, she is at the house at Courberrie, where
+Esperance will arrive too late."</p>
+
+<p>Hardly had Carmen grasped the sense of these words than she ran to her
+room, and wrapping herself in her long black cloak, left the h&ocirc;tel by
+the private door.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_447" id="Page_447">[Pg 447]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_LXIV" id="CHAPTER_LXIV"></a>CHAPTER LXIV.</h2>
+
+<h3>THE PLOT.</h3>
+
+
+<p>We left Esperance in the house at Courberrie just when the panels had
+been thrown open. He uttered a cry of horror. What did he see? Around a
+table covered with glasses sat a number of women singing drunken songs,
+and among these women sat one pale as a ghost, and this one was Jane!</p>
+
+<p>Ah! poor child! Of what terrible machination was she the victim?</p>
+
+<p>Benedetto, who required her as a tool for his vengeance, had carried her
+through the subterranean passage, she all the time entirely unconscious.
+He laid her on a sofa, and stood with folded arms looking down upon her.
+Did he feel the smallest emotion of pity? No, not he! He was only asking
+himself if the girl was so attractive that Esperance would really feel
+her loss as much as his enemies wished. Suddenly she sighed&mdash;a long,
+strange, fluttering sigh. Benedetto leaned over her anxiously. What if
+she were to die now! He must hasten. Everything had been arranged. He
+opened her teeth with the blade of a knife, and poured down her throat a
+few drops of a clear white liquor. It was an anesthetic whose terrible
+properties he well understood. Jane would see, Jane would hear, and Jane
+would suffer, but as she could neither speak <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_448" id="Page_448">[Pg 448]</a></span>nor move&mdash;all resistance
+would be impossible. And, that night she was carried to the house at
+Courberrie, what terrible agony she suffered! She knew that she was in
+the power of an enemy, that she had been torn from him whom she loved
+better than life, and from whose lips she had just heard oaths of
+eternal fidelity. With a heart swelling with agony she could not utter a
+sound. Her soul was alive, but her body was motionless. Suddenly the
+room in which she lay was brilliantly illuminated. A crowd of women came
+pouring in&mdash;and such women! My readers who remember Jane's past can
+readily imagine that the girl regarded this scene as a hideous dream.
+She even fancied that she saw her mother.</p>
+
+<p>Esperance beheld all this. He rushed forward, only to be stopped by iron
+bars.</p>
+
+<p>This terrible scene had been most adroitly managed. The house at
+Courberrie belonged to Danglars, and had been the scene of many ignoble
+orgies. The opening through which Esperance looked was not more than
+thirty feet from Jane. He called, but she could not hear him. Then all
+was suddenly dark. The lights returned in a few minutes, and Jane was
+seen alone.</p>
+
+<p>"Jane! Jane!" cried Esperance. Suddenly a door opened. Esperance saw an
+old man enter the room. He went up to Jane with a hideous smile on his
+face. It was Laisangy.</p>
+
+<p>Of all the crimes that Benedetto had committed, this was the most
+infamous!</p>
+
+<p>Esperance caught the iron bars and shook them violently, and with such
+enormous strength that one of <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_449" id="Page_449">[Pg 449]</a></span>them was loosened. Esperance passed
+through them and stood in a corridor, but there was a sheet of plate
+glass still between him and Jane. This glass he broke with his clenched
+hands, and Esperance sprang at the throat of Danglars and threw him to
+the other end of the room. Then, taking Jane in his arms, he cried:</p>
+
+<p>"Jane! my beloved&mdash;do you not hear me? I am Monte-Cristo."</p>
+
+<p>"Monte-Cristo!" repeated a hoarse voice.</p>
+
+<p>Esperance half turned.</p>
+
+<p>Danglars had staggered up from the floor, and was gazing at Esperance
+with eyes fairly starting from his head. With his deadly pallor and a
+gash on his cheek from the glass through which he had passed, Esperance
+bore a striking resemblance to his father. He looked as Dant&egrave;s looked
+the day his infamous companion betrayed him at Marseilles. Danglars was
+appalled.</p>
+
+<p>"Edmond Dant&egrave;s!" he cried in agony, raising his arms high above his
+head, and wildly clutching the air for support. Then he fell forward on
+his face in an attack of apoplexy.</p>
+
+<p>Esperance laid Jane again on the sofa, and ran to his assistance. He
+lifted him from the floor. The banker was dead.</p>
+
+<p>Esperance was as if stunned. The strange events, coming one after the
+other, affected his reason. He believed himself the victim of a hideous
+nightmare. He heard a sigh and turned back to Jane, who seemed to be
+trying to throw off the stupor that had weighed her down. The effect of
+the narcotic was probably passing off. She raised her hands and pressed
+them to <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_450" id="Page_450">[Pg 450]</a></span>her forehead. Esperance forgot everything else, and falling at
+Jane's feet he cried, in an agony of entreaty.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh! Jane, awake! I must take you from this terrible place. Jane,
+awake!"</p>
+
+<p>The girl's eyes moved.</p>
+
+<p>"Who speaks my name?" she whispered.</p>
+
+<p>"It is I&mdash;I, who loves&mdash;Esperance!"</p>
+
+<p>Jane opened her eyes quickly.</p>
+
+<p>"Esperance! Oh! not here&mdash;it must not be!"</p>
+
+<p>She began to sob convulsively.</p>
+
+<p>"I know all, my beloved!" he answered, soothingly, "I know the snare
+that was laid for you. But why do you repel me, dearest?"</p>
+
+<p>"Ah! you do not know," she said, amid her sobs. "Those women&mdash;those
+songs. Ah! let me die!"</p>
+
+<p>"No, do not say that! We are surrounded by enemies, but I fear them not.
+Come, we must leave this place."</p>
+
+<p>But, with her brain still excited by opium, she continued to resist.</p>
+
+<p>"Jane, you know me?&mdash;I am Esperance. Let us fly, and find our happiness
+together. Jane&mdash;dear Jane!"</p>
+
+<p>His voice was so tender and so persuasive that suddenly the
+terror-stricken expression left the girl's face. She placed her hands on
+his shoulder, and contemplated him in a sort of ecstasy.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, I remember. Esperance, how I love you!"</p>
+
+<p>At this instant, like a chorus behind the scenes, there came the shouts
+of ribald laughter. She fell on the floor, crying: "Alas! alas! I am
+accursed!"</p>
+
+<p>The door of the room was thrown open, and a man entered. This man was
+Benedetto.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_451" id="Page_451">[Pg 451]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_LXV" id="CHAPTER_LXV"></a>CHAPTER LXV.</h2>
+
+<h3>THE MYSTERIOUS SIGNALS.</h3>
+
+
+<p>Having played his little comedy with consummate skill, Coucon hastened
+to the carriage he had kept waiting, and drove to the H&ocirc;tel de
+Monte-Cristo. He was in such haste to inform Goutran that he had
+successfully fulfilled his mission, that he forgot to disembarrass
+himself of his fancy costume, so that when he appeared before Madame
+Caraman, the good woman uttered a cry of terror.</p>
+
+<p>"It is only I&mdash;Coucon."</p>
+
+<p>Madame protested against his selecting a time like this to indulge in a
+masquerade.</p>
+
+<p>"It is nothing of the kind," answered Coucon, impatiently. "Where is
+Monsieur Goutran?"</p>
+
+<p>"I have not seen the gentlemen since you went out."</p>
+
+<p>"Then they must be in Miss Jane's room still?"</p>
+
+<p>"I suppose so."</p>
+
+<p>"We will go there at once, then."</p>
+
+<p>But the Zouave was interrupted by a strange sound like that made by a
+heavy hammer at some distance.</p>
+
+<p>Madame turned pale.</p>
+
+<p>"You know, Coucon, that I am not a coward, but I tell you I can't make
+out that sound. I have heard it now for some time."</p>
+
+<p>"It seems to come from the cellar."</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_452" id="Page_452">[Pg 452]</a></span></p><p>"Yes, that is what I think. But let us tell the friends."</p>
+
+<p>They by this time had reached Jane's door, on which they knocked. No
+reply. Then, after knocking and listening, Madame said:</p>
+
+<p>"We must go in!"</p>
+
+<p>She opened the door, and both uttered a cry on finding the chamber
+empty. The iron panel had closed, and no one would have suspected its
+existence.</p>
+
+<p>Coucon could not believe his eyes. He ran through every room, but those
+they sought had vanished. They had not gone out of the h&ocirc;tel, for Madame
+had guarded it.</p>
+
+<p>"Well!" cried Coucon, "vanished like Miss Jane, like the Vicomte
+Esperance!"</p>
+
+<p>Hark! Again they heard the strange noise.</p>
+
+<p>Coucon, born and bred in Paris, had read many novels and seen many
+plays. He at once announced that the house they were in had subterranean
+passages.</p>
+
+<p>"But there are no doors."</p>
+
+<p>"What of that!"</p>
+
+<p>He dashed from the room, and came back with hammer and chisel!</p>
+
+<p>"What are you going to do?"</p>
+
+<p>"Demolish the house, if necessary."</p>
+
+<p>Madame wrung her hands.</p>
+
+<p>"We shall be forgiven if we make mistakes," said Coucon. "We can do only
+our best."</p>
+
+<p>And Coucon began to tear up the carpet, and then to sound the boards.</p>
+
+<p>"Above," he said, looking up, "are the bath rooms, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_453" id="Page_453">[Pg 453]</a></span>and I think we had
+best begin by pulling down the hangings on the wall."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh! that is wicked!"</p>
+
+<p>It was of no use to argue, the Zouave had made up his mind, and he
+ripped off the silk as if it had been old cotton. Madame, fired by his
+example, went to work also. While they were thus frantically busy, the
+door-bell rang.</p>
+
+<p>"It is Miss Carmen," cried Coucon. "She may be able to tell us
+something."</p>
+
+<p>He hastened to the door. It was Carmen, as he had supposed.</p>
+
+<p>"My friends," she said, "where is Goutran?"</p>
+
+<p>"I do not know," was the reply.</p>
+
+<p>"I will tell you, then. He, with Monsieur Fanfar are prisoners in this
+house."</p>
+
+<p>"What did I tell you!" shouted Coucon. "And now, listen&mdash;the noise has
+begun again."</p>
+
+<p>Seizing the hammer, Coucon struck three hard blows on the walls at
+regular intervals. He waited and listened. Three blows answered him. He
+struck again, varying the number, which were immediately repeated.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, it is plain. Our friends hear us, and wish to communicate with us.
+But hark! they have begun." Twenty-five blows were struck, one after the
+other, in quick succession. The three looked at each other, greatly
+troubled.</p>
+
+<p>"The twenty-five letters of the alphabet!" cried Madame.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_454" id="Page_454">[Pg 454]</a></span></p><p>"Yes," said Carmen, "repeat, to prove that you understand."</p>
+
+<p>After repeated experiments it was found that communication was easy, and
+Carmen spelled out:</p>
+
+<p>"There is an iron door under the silk."</p>
+
+<p>"I knew it!" Coucon exclaimed, "I had began to tear it off when you
+came."</p>
+
+<p>They pulled off the silk, and suddenly Coucon exclaimed:</p>
+
+<p>"Here is the door!" Without well knowing what he was doing, Coucon
+pressed the knob, and the panel flew open so quickly that Coucon was
+nearly knocked over. "Take the light and come!" he shouted.</p>
+
+<p>Carmen snatched the candelabra, and they passed through the door.</p>
+
+<p>It will be remembered what happened when Goutran and his friends entered
+the passage. When their feet touched the stairs the panel closed. In
+fact, a secret mechanism connected the first stair with the iron door.
+Those who did not know it became prisoners at once, while others simply
+stepped over this stair, and so left the iron panel open. But neither
+Coucon nor the others knew this. Down went Coucon's foot in the wrong
+place, and the panel swung to. At the same moment Fanfar, Goutran and
+Bobichel appeared. They had been guided by the light.</p>
+
+<p>"Goutran!" cried Carmen, running toward him.</p>
+
+<p>"What! is it you who has delivered us?"</p>
+
+<p>They went back all together, to find themselves prisoners? No, for
+Coucon had dropped the hammer, which accidentally fell in the aperture,
+thus preventing <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_455" id="Page_455">[Pg 455]</a></span>the door from closing entirely when the spring on the
+stair was touched. They were saved!</p>
+
+<p>In Jane's room they held a consultation. Carmen communicated what she
+had heard, and showed the note she had taken from Laisangy.</p>
+
+<p>"But where is the place he speaks of?" asked Fanfar.</p>
+
+<p>"I can show you," she said, quietly.</p>
+
+<p>Coucon ran to the stables, and in ten minutes the carriage stood at the
+door.</p>
+
+<p>"Heaven grant that we arrive in time!" said Fanfar.</p>
+
+<p>Alas! it was a vain hope. Much time had been lost while the three men
+had been shut up. Their candles had burned out. Fanfar tore a rail from
+the stairs and began to sound the wall, and suddenly they heard
+themselves answered, but all the time they were at a loss to understand
+how they had been able to establish such prompt communication. But this
+was no time for explanation. All they now thought of was Esperance. The
+carriage was driven at full speed toward Courberrie.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_456" id="Page_456">[Pg 456]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_LXVI" id="CHAPTER_LXVI"></a>CHAPTER LXVI.</h2>
+
+<h3>UNITED IN DEATH.</h3>
+
+
+<p>Benedetto entered. He was now the escaped convict, neither more nor
+less. On his lips was a hideous smile. He had attained his aim at
+last&mdash;he had in his power the son of the man whom he hated, and revenge
+was sweet.</p>
+
+<p>Esperance held Jane in his arms, and merely turned his head toward
+Benedetto.</p>
+
+<p>"Who are you?" he cried. "I know you not, but if you are not the basest
+of the base, you will aid me to make my escape from this terrible place,
+and enable me to take this poor child with me."</p>
+
+<p>"No, sir!" answered Benedetto, slowly. "I will not aid you to escape,
+and you will not save this woman."</p>
+
+<p>"Ah! I understand you. You are the accomplice of these scoundrels. Very
+well; I will make a way for myself."</p>
+
+<p>He drew his revolvers from his pocket, and pointed one at Benedetto.</p>
+
+<p>"Move!" he cried, "or I will kill you as I would a dog!"</p>
+
+<p>"You would commit murder then, would you?"</p>
+
+<p>"No&mdash;it would be simple self-protection. I am not <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_457" id="Page_457">[Pg 457]</a></span>your prisoner, and
+this woman ought to be sacred to you."</p>
+
+<p>"This woman," said Benedetto, "tells you she comes here not of her own
+free will. Do you believe her?"</p>
+
+<p>"Jane! answer him, my beloved! Tell him he lies!"</p>
+
+<p>Benedetto started back.</p>
+
+<p>"Jane Zeld," he said, "tell the absolute truth. Tell the Vicomte if you
+consider yourself worthy of him." Jane turned her weary eyes upon the
+Vicomte. "Tell him if the daughter of the Lyons outcast has any right to
+lean on the arm of the Vicomte de Monte-Cristo. Jane Zeld, think of the
+past. Tell this gentleman who your mother was. Tell him where she died."</p>
+
+<p>"No, no!" cried Jane. "Enough! enough!"</p>
+
+<p>"No, it is not enough. Lead the Vicomte to your mother's tomb and there
+place your hand in his, if you dare!"</p>
+
+<p>"Be silent!" cried Esperance, who felt himself growing mad.</p>
+
+<p>"But this is not all," continued Benedetto. "Jane Zeld, shall I tell the
+Vicomte the name of your father?"</p>
+
+<p>"I know it not!"</p>
+
+<p>"Have you forgotten the man who took you from a wretched house at the
+time of your mother's death? This man was Sanselme, the former
+priest&mdash;Sanselme, the former convict, and your father! And now, Vicomte,
+will you kill me? Do so, if you dare!"</p>
+
+<p>Jane fell back, fainting.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_458" id="Page_458">[Pg 458]</a></span></p><p>"She is dead!" cried Esperance. "Ah! coward and assassin, I will have
+your life for this. Have you arms? I wish you to have some chance."</p>
+
+<p>Benedetto threw aside the mantle he wore and showed two swords, one of
+which he threw at the feet of Esperance.</p>
+
+<p>Yes, he had long craved this duel, and, sure of his ability, felt that
+he had to do with a mere boy.</p>
+
+<p>Esperance seized the sword, and went up to Benedetto.</p>
+
+<p>"You have insulted me," he said, gravely, "in insulting this woman who
+is dearer to me than life itself; it matters little who you are, prepare
+to die."</p>
+
+<p>This room was a singular duelling ground, but Esperance cared little for
+that. His pulse beat no more quickly than usual. He had greatly changed
+in the last few hours. He felt himself elevated to the dignity of
+chastisement.</p>
+
+<p>The two antagonists stood on guard. There was a moment of profound
+silence. In a mural painting on the walls of a German cathedral, two men
+stand like this, and a little distance off, half hidden behind a tree,
+is the figure of Death.</p>
+
+<p>Esperance was perfectly cool, but Benedetto saw after two or three
+passes that he had no boy antagonist. Calling together all his resources
+he made a lunge. His antagonist returned it, and grazed Benedetto's
+breast.</p>
+
+<p>At this moment Jane revived. "Courage, Esperance, courage!" she
+murmured.</p>
+
+<p>The young man heard her voice, and the contest <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_459" id="Page_459">[Pg 459]</a></span>was renewed. Ten times
+did the sword of Esperance menace the heart of Benedetto, ten times did
+the scoundrel escape death. But he began to feel afraid. The sword of
+the son of Monte-Cristo flashed and gleamed before his eyes like the
+fiery sword of the Bible. Esperance was gaining the advantage, and a cry
+of rage escaped the panting breast of Benedetto. Was it possible that
+after all, his vengeance was about to slip through his fingers? And was
+he to die instead of Monte-Cristo's son! He recoiled further and
+further, feeling that the sword of his opponent would pin him to the
+wall.</p>
+
+<p>Monte-Cristo's son said to him, "Scoundrel! your life is in my power.
+Repent of the evil you have done, and I will show you mercy."</p>
+
+<p>"Mercy!" sneered Benedetto. "You talk of mercy. Take care, I hate you! I
+hate your father. Hasten to take my life or I swear that I will take
+yours!"</p>
+
+<p>"Die then!" cried Esperance.</p>
+
+<p>And with a rapid movement of his sword he disarmed his adversary; his
+blade was about to enter Benedetto's breast when the report of a pistol
+was heard, and Esperance, shot through the heart, fell by Jane's side.
+She threw herself on his body with cries of despair. Benedetto, with an
+infernal smile, turned away with a pistol in his hand.</p>
+
+<p>It will be remembered that Esperance in his righteous anger had aimed
+his pistols at Benedetto, but the thought of a murder in this upright
+soul was but a <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_460" id="Page_460">[Pg 460]</a></span>passing one, and when he drew his sword he laid down his
+pistols upon a chair near him.</p>
+
+<p>At the moment when Benedetto felt that all was lost his eyes fell an the
+arms, and an infernal thought struck him. He gradually approached the
+chair, and finally, with a sudden movement, snatched one of the
+revolvers. The scoundrel had murdered his adversary. Esperance fell and
+Jane encircled him with her arms.</p>
+
+<p>Benedetto frowningly looked on. He had at last achieved his object.
+Unable to injure the man he hated, he had wounded him through his son,
+his only child!</p>
+
+<p>"Farewell," sighed Esperance, "I love thee, Jane, but I am dying!"</p>
+
+<p>"And I die with you!" answered Jane, with paling lips.</p>
+
+<p>And as if the angel of death touched them both at the same time, they
+slept in eternal night.</p>
+
+<p>Benedetto did not move. Suddenly he started. Loud noises were heard at
+the door of the deserted house.</p>
+
+<p>"We are here, Esperance! We bring you aid!" voices called in cheering
+tones.</p>
+
+<p>Benedetto looked about like a wild boar at bay. Every issue was cut off.
+He knew that he had no pity to expect, for when these men beheld him
+here with his two victims they would take his life without the smallest
+hesitation. He rushed to the window and opened it; the Seine ran dark at
+his feet.</p>
+
+<p>Benedetto waited until Fanfar and his friends <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_461" id="Page_461">[Pg 461]</a></span>entered the room, and
+then crying out to them, "You are too late! I have killed the son of
+Monte-Cristo!" leaped into the river.</p>
+
+<p>Goutran rushed to Esperance, and lifting him in his arms, said
+despairingly: "Dead! murdered!"</p>
+
+<p>And in the presence of these two young creatures so beautiful in death,
+the men uncovered their bowed heads and Carmen knelt in passionate
+weeping.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_462" id="Page_462">[Pg 462]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_LXVII" id="CHAPTER_LXVII"></a>CHAPTER LXVII.</h2>
+
+<h3>THE SPECTRE.</h3>
+
+
+<p>Just as Benedetto leaped into the Seine, another man entered the room
+where the victims lay. This man was Sanselme.</p>
+
+<p>It will be remembered that the former convict had been present at the
+conversation in which Fanfar and his companions resolved to rescue
+Esperance. The sick man, unable to move, still down with fever, saw them
+go.</p>
+
+<p>The mad woman also remained in the room, saying over and over again:
+"Benedetto is my son, my son, and he killed me!" While Sanselme repeated
+Jane's name without cessation. By degrees his strength returned to him,
+his nerves were all in a quiver.</p>
+
+<p>Jane in danger and he lying there idle! No, no, that could not be! He
+rose from the bed, and supporting himself by the wall, got out of the
+house. Where was he going? He knew not. He endeavored to collect his
+thoughts, and suddenly a name stood out clear in his brain.
+Monte-Cristo, yes it was to the h&ocirc;tel of Monte-Cristo that he must go.
+There, at all events, he should find Fanfar, and together they would
+look for Jane. At first Sanselme could hardly walk, but his tread became
+gradually firmer. Just as he reached the H&ocirc;tel de Monte-Cristo, he saw
+the carriage drive out of the court-yard.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_463" id="Page_463">[Pg 463]</a></span></p><p>A strange phenomenon now took place. Sanselme drew a long breath and
+began to run after the carriage&mdash;he felt no more lassitude nor weakness.
+His entire vital strength was concentrated in his superhuman effort. And
+this man who just now could not hold himself erect, ran on swiftly
+without hesitation. With his eyes on the carriage lamps he followed them
+unerringly. Somnambulists and madmen alone do such things. And Sanselme
+ran as if he were in a dream. He saw the carriage stop at last, and he
+heard violent blows upon a door. And then he entered as well as the
+others, and appeared on the scene just as Benedetto leaped from the
+window.</p>
+
+<p>Sanselme beheld Jane, and in that moment of agony his broken, bleeding
+heart loosed its grasp upon his secret, for he cried out:</p>
+
+<p>"Jane! my daughter! My beloved daughter!"</p>
+
+<p>Fanfar instantly understood the truth and laid his hand compassionately
+on his shoulder.</p>
+
+<p>"Courage!" he said, gently.</p>
+
+<p>But Sanselme shook off the hand, and before any one knew what he meant
+to do, he climbed upon the window, crying:</p>
+
+<p>"Benedetto! You shall not escape!"</p>
+
+<p>And he, too, leaped into the water. Benedetto was scarce a minute in
+advance.</p>
+
+<p>Benedetto had made a mistake. He knew of a secret egress from this
+house, but he forgot it, so great was his fear.</p>
+
+<p>Fear? Yes. For the first time in his life he had made an attack on
+Monte-Cristo, and in spite of his <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_464" id="Page_464">[Pg 464]</a></span>audacity, knew perfectly well that
+the mere presence of the Count would cause him to tremble with fear. He
+did not wish to die, and therefore fled by the first path that presented
+itself. And after all, to swim the Seine was a trifle to the former
+<i>for&ccedil;at</i>. He was strong and a good swimmer, but the height from which he
+sprang was so great that at first he was almost stunned. The water was
+icy cold. He first thought of climbing again to the same shore, but his
+adversaries might be watching and he might fall into their hands; while
+on the other bank the forest of Neuilly offered him a sure refuge. He
+therefore swam across. The current was strong, but he and Sanselme had
+known a worse and heavier sea when they escaped from Toulon. It was
+strange, the persistency with which this name returned to him. At this
+same moment he heard a dull noise behind him as if some one leaped into
+the water. Could it be that one of his enemies had started in pursuit?
+He found that he was making little progress and that his strength was
+going. He allowed himself to float for a few minutes, and in the silence
+felt convinced that some one was pursuing him. But what nonsense it was
+in such darkness to make such an attempt. Benedetto now allowed himself
+to be carried on by the current, crossing the river obliquely, and
+managed to make no noise whatever as he swam. And yet as he listened he
+heard the same sound behind him at about the same distance. And now
+Benedetto beheld the shore. In a few minutes he would be safe, and when
+on firm ground he could look out for himself. He sneered to himself.
+What nonsense all this talk <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_465" id="Page_465">[Pg 465]</a></span>was of punishment for crime. He had managed
+to escape so far! Finally he stood on the shore. He heard a cry from the
+water. He understood it. It came from his pursuer, who was now near
+enough to see that his prey had escaped him. He was right.</p>
+
+<p>Sanselme had not lost sight of Benedetto, and had felt sure of catching
+him; but he had been struck on the shoulder by a piece of floating wood.
+The pain was excessive, and he lost his power of swimming. In this
+moment Benedetto escaped him. He could dimly see his form on the shore,
+and then the man's shadow was lost in the shadow of the woods. Sanselme
+uttered a groan. This man had killed Jane, and would now go unpunished.
+Up to this moment the former convict had been sustained by unnatural
+strength, but now this strength was gone. He could do no more and
+believed himself to be dying. Suddenly he felt something within reach of
+the hands with which he was beating the water like a drowning dog. It
+was a rope. A schooner had been wrecked here and a rope was hanging from
+its broken hull. Sanselme clung to it with the energy of despair, and by
+it raised himself on board the schooner and fell on the deck utterly
+exhausted, morally and physically.</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly he uttered a wild cry. He had been looking intently at the spot
+where he had seen Benedetto disappear. He saw the man's shadow again,
+but it was not alone. With it was something white, that looked like a
+spectre. And the spectre was gliding over the ground in the direction of
+the wreck on which Sanselme was crouching.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_466" id="Page_466">[Pg 466]</a></span></p><p>What was it? One form was certainly Benedetto's; but the spectre&mdash;was it
+anything more than the fog that rises at dawn along the riverside? Not
+so&mdash;it was a phantom; the terrible resurrection of the Past.</p>
+
+<p>Benedetto had run toward the wood, believing that there he would be
+safe. Suddenly his heart stood still, for before him rose a tall form
+draped in white, like a winding-sheet. This man was a coward at heart,
+and had been all his life afraid of ghosts. But he encouraged himself
+now, saying that it was mist from the river, which a breath of wind
+would dissipate. Summoning all his courage, he stopped and went toward
+this strange form. It was a form and not mist; but its height looked
+unnatural as it stood leaning against a tree. Why did not Benedetto turn
+aside, either to the right or the left? He could not; something stronger
+than his will drew him toward the nameless Thing. Finally Benedetto laid
+his hand on the shoulder of the Thing. It turned and lifted its head.
+Then an appalling shriek, which was like nothing human, came from
+Benedetto's lips. This spectre was that of his mother, whom he had
+stabbed in the breast at Beausset so many years before. And the ghost
+stood gazing at him with her large eyes, while her gray tresses floated
+in the wind.</p>
+
+<p>Benedetto did not seek to understand. He believed that the dead had
+risen from the tomb. She looked at him for a full minute. Then she said:</p>
+
+<p>"Come, Benedetto; come, my son."</p>
+
+<p>And the long, skeleton-like hand was laid on the parricide's wrist with
+such an icy pressure that Benedetto felt as if a steel ring were being
+riveted on his arm.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_467" id="Page_467">[Pg 467]</a></span></p><p>"Come, my son," said the mad woman; "you will never leave me again, will
+you?"</p>
+
+<p>She drew him gently along as he walked. He did not attempt to disengage
+himself; he obeyed the summons as if it were from Death.</p>
+
+<p>The phantom&mdash;that is to say, Madame Danglars, the poor, insane
+creature&mdash;had escaped from Fanfar's house by the door which Sanselme
+left open, and having found her son thus strangely, lavished on him
+tender words, which in the ear of the dastard were like curses. Thus
+they reached the shore, and it was not until Benedetto saw the Seine
+once more before him that he realized what he was doing. He shook off
+the hand on his wrist and began to run. He saw the wreck a foot or two
+from the shore, and with one leap he reached it, having little idea of
+the danger that awaited him there. The mad woman followed him and tried
+to put her arms around him. "You shall never leave me again, Benedetto!"
+she murmured.</p>
+
+<p>Sanselme saw and heard it all. It seemed to him that it was some
+frightful nightmare. She advancing and Benedetto retreating, the two
+reached the other end of the wreck; their feet slipped, there was a dull
+sound as they fell, and the water opened to receive them. Sanselme
+leaned over. He could see nothing, and heard not another sound.</p>
+
+<p>In the morning a corpse was found leaning over the gunwale, with eyes
+open. One sailor said to another:</p>
+
+<p>"A drunken man the less in the world!"</p>
+
+<p>That was the only funeral sermon preached over Sanselme.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_468" id="Page_468">[Pg 468]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_LXVIII" id="CHAPTER_LXVIII"></a>CHAPTER LXVIII.</h2>
+
+<h3>MONTE-CRISTO, THE MARTYR.</h3>
+
+
+<p>In the H&ocirc;tel de Monte-Cristo all is sad and silent. The very walls and
+the furniture had a funereal air. In the large chamber lie the bodies of
+Jane and Esperance, the son of Monte-Cristo. How much beauty, youth and
+tenderness were to be swallowed up in Mother Earth! Jane, vailed in
+lace, had a tender smile upon her lips. Esperance, in his serene repose,
+was the image of Monte-Cristo in his early days.</p>
+
+<p>Near the bed were two men watching&mdash;Fanfar, the faithful friend of the
+Count, who had saved him and his son at Ouargla; Goutran, the companion
+of Esperance, who knew the greatness of that young soul. The two sat in
+silence, and hardly dared look at each other. They were both oppressed
+with remorse.</p>
+
+<p>Monte-Cristo had gone away, obeying a sentiment of delicacy, wishing to
+leave his son in entire liberty to develop in such direction as his
+nature demanded. But when he went he said to these men, "I confide to
+you the one treasure that I have in the world&mdash;watch over him."</p>
+
+<p>And they had made answer that they would protect him from harm with
+their lives. They were living and Esperance was dead. They heard in
+their ears <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_469" id="Page_469">[Pg 469]</a></span>like the tolling of a funeral bell, the words, "Too late!
+Too late!" If they had arrived in time they would certainly have
+prevented the catastrophe, but this was the result&mdash;this motionless form
+with hands crossed on his breast.</p>
+
+<p>Coucon and Madame Caraman, down stairs, were weeping and watching.</p>
+
+<p>Fanfar and Goutran were silent, as we have said, for the same question
+was upon the lips of both men, and both knew that there was no answer.
+Had not the Count said, "If any peril demands my presence summon me, and
+within three days I will be with you." And it would be precisely three
+days at midnight since Fanfar sent the summons.</p>
+
+<p>Would he come? The clock struck half-past eleven, and no Monte-Cristo.
+Must they then lay in the grave the mortal remains of the son of
+Monte-Cristo without a farewell kiss on the pale brow from his father?
+They felt as if it were another wrong of which they would be guilty
+toward this unhappy father.</p>
+
+<p>Fanfar was buried in thought. He saw Esperance, when almost a child he
+defied the Arabs. He saw him borne in his father's arms from Maldar's
+Tower. And Goutran, too, thought of the last words that the Vicomte had
+said to him: "To love is to give one's self entirely, in life and in
+death!"</p>
+
+<p>The lamps burned dimly. The clock struck twelve. The two men started,
+for the door opened noiselessly and a man of tall stature entered. It
+was the Count of Monte-Cristo. His eyes were dim, his shoulders <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_470" id="Page_470">[Pg 470]</a></span>bowed,
+and his steps awakened no echo. He was dressed in black.</p>
+
+<p>The two men did not move nor speak. They seemed to feel that no human
+voice should break this awful stillness.</p>
+
+<p>Monte-Cristo walked to the side of the bed and looked at his son, long
+and steadily. What thoughts were hidden in that active brain?</p>
+
+<p>And now Fanfar beheld a terrible, unheard-of thing. When Monte-Cristo
+entered, his hair was black as night, and as he stood there his hair
+began to whiten. What terrible torture that man must have undergone in
+those minutes. Age, which had made no mark on this organization of iron,
+suddenly took possession of it. First, his temples looked as if light
+snow was thrown upon it, and then by degrees the whole head became
+white. Those who saw this sight will never forget it.</p>
+
+<p>Monte-Cristo bent low over the bier on which Esperance lay. He took his
+son in his arms as a mother lifts her child from the cradle, and bearing
+the body Monte-Cristo left the room.</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly shaking off the torpor which had held them motionless, Fanfar
+and Goutran started in pursuit. But in vain did they search the h&ocirc;tel,
+Monte-Cristo had vanished with the body of his son.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_471" id="Page_471">[Pg 471]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_LXIX" id="CHAPTER_LXIX"></a>CHAPTER LXIX.</h2>
+
+<h3>EPILOGUE.</h3>
+
+
+<p>A man stood on a solitary rock. Suddenly he uttered a shout of triumph.</p>
+
+<p>He had discovered the secret of immense wealth. And this man threw down
+the pickaxe in his hand and standing erect, cried aloud:</p>
+
+<p>"Oh! you whose infamy condemned me to fourteen years of imprisonment,
+and whose name I do not yet know, beware! Dant&egrave;s is free."</p>
+
+<p>Young and with confidence in the future, Edmond Dant&egrave;s, the lover of
+Merc&eacute;d&egrave;s, returned to Marseilles, with the promise of a captaincy. He
+was to marry Merc&eacute;d&egrave;s. It was at supper on the evening of the betrothal
+when soldiers came to arrest him. He was accused of having carried
+letters to Napoleon, at Elba. In vain did he assert and even prove his
+innocence before de Villefort, a magistrate. Edmond Dant&egrave;s was torn from
+his betrothed, and imprisoned for fourteen years in the Ch&acirc;teau d'If.</p>
+
+<p>Another prisoner was there, the Abb&eacute; Faria. This prisoner was supposed
+to be mad, because he had offered to buy his liberty with millions. The
+Abb&eacute; imparted to Dant&egrave;s the secret of the treasure concealed by the
+Spadas in the caverns of the island of Monte-Cristo, a desolate rock in
+the Mediterranean. And <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_472" id="Page_472">[Pg 472]</a></span>this was not all, the old man had also imparted
+other secrets to his young companion.</p>
+
+<p>And now Dant&egrave;s was master of the treasure of the Spadas, and he started
+to find his old father and his fianc&eacute;e. He swore to avenge himself on
+those who had betrayed him. He left the rock. He went to his father's
+house. His father had died of hunger. Merc&eacute;d&egrave;s, his fianc&eacute;e, was married
+to another&mdash;to one of the three men who had woven the plot that had cost
+Dant&egrave;s fourteen years of his youth. One was named Danglars, a rival
+claimant to the title of captain. The second was a drunken man, more
+weak than wicked. The third was Fernando Mondego, a fisherman, who loved
+Merc&eacute;d&egrave;s. And it was this Fernando who had married Merc&eacute;d&egrave;s, and was now
+known by the title of the Comte de Morcerf. Caderousse, still poor, kept
+a wine shop, and Danglars was one of the first bankers in Paris.</p>
+
+<p>Another enemy, and perhaps the most infamous of them all, was the
+magistrate, de Villefort, who, knowing the innocence of Dant&egrave;s, had
+nevertheless sentenced him to prison. Because Dant&egrave;s in his explanation
+used the name of Noirtier, who was the father of Villefort, and said
+that the letters he brought from the island of Elba were given to him by
+this man, de Villefort, lest his own position should be compromised, got
+rid of this person as soon as possible, and sent him to the Ch&acirc;teau d'If
+for fourteen years.</p>
+
+<p>These were the crimes that Dant&egrave;s swore to punish. He did so. Danglars
+the banker he ruined. Fernando the fisherman, known when Dant&egrave;s returned
+as the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_473" id="Page_473">[Pg 473]</a></span>Comte de Morcerf, was accused in the Chamber of Peers of having
+betrayed Ali-Pacha of Jamna, and of selling his daughter Hayd&eacute;e to a
+Turkish merchant. His infamy was proved by Hayd&eacute;e herself, and Fernando
+Mondego was for ever dishonored. The wretched man, knowing that the blow
+came from Monte-Cristo, went to him to provoke a quarrel. Then
+Monte-Cristo said to him:</p>
+
+<p>"Look me full in the face, Fernando, and you will understand the whole.
+I am Edmond Dant&egrave;s." And the man fled. Within an hour he blew out his
+brains.</p>
+
+<p>Then came the turn of de Villefort. His wife, a perverse creature, to
+ensure an inheritance to her son, committed several murders with
+poisons. De Villefort himself had buried a child alive, the child of
+Madame Danglars and himself. But the child was saved by a Corsican,
+Bertuccio. The child, born of crime, had the most criminal instincts.
+And one day Monte-Cristo found him in the prison at Toulon. He named him
+Benedetto. He assisted him to escape, and Benedetto assassinated
+Caderousse. And then Benedetto, tried for this murder, found himself
+face to face with his father Villefort, the Procureur de Roi. Benedetto
+loudly flung his father's crimes in his face, and Villefort fled from
+the court-room. When he reached home Villefort found that his wife had
+poisoned herself and his son, the only being he loved. And then
+Monte-Cristo appeared before him and told him his real name, Edmond
+Dant&egrave;s! Villefort became insane.</p>
+
+<p>And the work of vengeance was complete. Monte-Cristo was so rich that he
+was all-powerful. And yet <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_474" id="Page_474">[Pg 474]</a></span>he was terribly sad, for he was alone. Then
+it was that the gentle Hayd&eacute;e consoled him. To their son they gave the
+name of Esperance. And Hayd&eacute;e was dead! Esperance was dead!</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p>Ten years had elapsed since that awful night when Monte-Cristo, with
+blanched hair, carried away the body of his only son.</p>
+
+<p>A man stood alone on a rock on the island of Monte-Cristo. And this man
+was Edmond Dant&egrave;s. For ten years he had lived on this rock. In all that
+time he had not seen a human face nor heard a human voice, except at
+rare intervals when some ship, driven from her course by contrary winds,
+sent her boats to this island for water. Then Monte-Cristo, concealing
+himself, watched these men and heard their joyous laughter.</p>
+
+<p>Once, when Monte-Cristo had been on the rock eight years, he saw a ship
+coming toward it at full sail. It was not driven there by contrary winds
+or by a storm, and Monte-Cristo saw a man on deck surveying the island
+through a glass. Concealing himself he saw several men, whom he did not
+know, land, and search the island.</p>
+
+<p>It will be remembered that long before, Ali and Bertuccio had, by their
+master's orders, blown up the grottos, the last vestiges of the Spada
+treasures.</p>
+
+<p>He saw these men sound the rocks and try them with pickaxes. They were
+adventurers, who knew something of what the island had contained, but
+yet they found nothing. Monte-Cristo contrived to get near them without
+their knowledge. They were <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_475" id="Page_475">[Pg 475]</a></span>disputing, one insisting that the treasure
+was "there," and he laid his finger on a plan he had drawn.</p>
+
+<p>"Have you not heard," said the other, "that the island was inhabited?"</p>
+
+<p>"Sailors say that they often see at sunset a tall form on these rocks."</p>
+
+<p>"An optical delusion."</p>
+
+<p>"No&mdash;these sailors know what they say, but Italians are inclined to
+carry their religion into everything, so they call this form the Abb&eacute; of
+Monte-Cristo."</p>
+
+<p>"We have not found him, and yet we have searched every corner."</p>
+
+<p>"He may be dead."</p>
+
+<p>"That may be, but surely this is a proof that no such treasures ever
+existed here, for if they had, he would not remain here to die of
+hunger!"</p>
+
+<p>"At all events we will make a sacrifice to the unknown God, as the
+ancients did."</p>
+
+<p>And they put together all the provisions they had&mdash;bread, fruit and
+wine&mdash;and with the point of a dagger they traced on the rock the words:</p>
+
+<p>"For the Abb&eacute; of Monte-Cristo!"</p>
+
+<p>Then they departed.</p>
+
+<p>"Poor fools!" said the Count, as he watched the fast lessening sails.
+"No, there is no treasure on this island save one, and that would be
+valueless to you!"</p>
+
+<p>Monte-Cristo had lived all these years on roots and bark, for he had
+sworn never to touch money again while he lived.</p>
+
+<p>On the night when we again find Monte-Cristo, he came down from the high
+rock by a narrow path which <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_476" id="Page_476">[Pg 476]</a></span>led to a platform. Here he stooped and
+turned over a flat stone, which left a dark cavity exposed. Into this
+place Monte-Cristo descended by steps cut in the rock. He reached a
+square room cut out of the granite. In the centre stood a marble
+sarcophagus, and there lay Esperance. The living was paler than the
+dead. Monte-Cristo laid his hand on that of his son.</p>
+
+<p>"Esperance," he said, solemnly, "has not the day arrived?"</p>
+
+<p>There was a long silence. Then&mdash;was it a reality? It seemed as if the
+lips moved and pronounced the word:</p>
+
+<p>"Come!"</p>
+
+<p>Monte-Cristo smiled.</p>
+
+<p>"I knew it!" he murmured.</p>
+
+<p>His face was transfigured, his white hair was like a halo about his
+head.</p>
+
+<p>"I am coming, my son!" he said. "I must first finish my task."</p>
+
+<p>He drew from his pocket a roll of parchment, and read it aloud:</p>
+
+
+<blockquote><p>"<span class="smcap">My Last Will and Testament</span>.</p>
+
+<p>"Let those who find this paper read it with coolness. Let them be on
+their guard against the surprises of their imagination. The man who is
+about to die, and whose name is signed to these lines, has been more
+powerful than the most powerful on earth. He has suffered as never man
+suffered. He has loved as never man loved! He has hated as well.</p>
+
+<p>"Suffering, love and hatred have all passed away<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_477" id="Page_477">[Pg 477]</a></span>&mdash;all is forgotten, all
+is dead within him except the memory of the child he adored and lost.</p>
+
+<p>"This man possessed wealth greater than any sovereign. And this man dies
+in poverty. He so willed it that he might punish himself. He chose the
+wrong. He wished to bend all wills to his. He elected himself judge and
+meted out punishment. The wrongs he avenged were not social evils, they
+were private and his own. He bows low in penitence, that he did not
+employ his great fortune in doing good. He dies in poverty, though
+possessed of untold millions. He designates no heir, for he cannot feel
+that the most upright man may not become guilty when he knows himself to
+be all-powerful. He has, however, no right to destroy this wealth. It
+exists, though concealed. He bequeaths it to that power which men call
+Providence. It will bear this paper, and place in the hands of man these
+mysterious signs.</p>
+
+<p>"Will the treasure be discovered?</p>
+
+<p>"Whoever reads this paper will, if he be wise, destroy it. And yet it
+may be that this colossal fortune will fall into the hands of a man who
+will finish the work that I have begun better than I could have done.</p>
+
+<p>"May whoever finds this paper heed the last words of a dying man.</p>
+
+<p>"<span class="smcap">The Abb&eacute; Dant&egrave;s</span>.</p>
+
+<p>"<i>February 25th, 1865.</i>"</p></blockquote>
+
+
+<p>Below this signature was a singular design. Monte-Cristo studied it.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, it is right," he said. "Ah! Faria, may your treasure fall into
+worthier hands than mine!"</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_478" id="Page_478">[Pg 478]</a></span></p><p>He felt strangely faint. He laid his hand on his heart. "Yes,
+Esperance," he said, softly, "I come!"</p>
+
+<p>He took up a crystal cube, which was solid enough to resist a shock of
+any kind. He folded the paper, and placed it in the cube, sealing it
+carefully. Then once more he ascended the stairs, and stood under the
+starlit sky.</p>
+
+<p>Monte-Cristo went down to the shore. He raised the crystal cube above
+his head, and threw it with all his strength. He heard it drop into the
+water. Monte-Cristo's secret was given to the waves. Then he turned, and
+slowly retraced his steps.</p>
+
+<p>As he went down the stairs his strength seemed to leave him. He lay down
+next to Esperance. He crossed his arms on his breast. Upon his lips was
+a smile of ineffable peace. His eyes closed. He was at rest.</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p>Those who loved him often utter his name, and wipe away a tear as they
+speak of him. But they never knew where he, who was known as Edmond
+Dant&egrave;s, Count of Monte-Cristo, died.</p>
+
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+
+<h3>THE END</h3>
+
+<hr style='width: 95%;' />
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+<pre>
+
+
+
+
+
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+</body>
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@@ -0,0 +1,15775 @@
+The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Son of Monte Cristo, by Jules Lermina
+
+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
+
+Author: Jules Lermina
+
+Release Date: August 8, 2008 [EBook #26216]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE SON OF MONTE CRISTO ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Sigal Alon, Hanna Burdon, Fox in the Stars and
+the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at
+https://www.pgdp.net
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+      THE
+
+      SON OF MONTE-CRISTO.
+
+      SEQUEL TO
+
+      THE WIFE OF MONTE-CRISTO,
+
+      AND END OF THE CONTINUATION TO
+
+      ALEXANDER DUMAS' CELEBRATED NOVEL OF
+
+      "THE COUNT OF MONTE-CRISTO."
+
+
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"The Son of Monte-Cristo" stands at the head of all exciting and
+absorbing novels. It is the sequel to "The Wife of Monte-Cristo," and
+the end of the continuation of Alexander Dumas' phenomenal romance of
+"The Count of Monte-Cristo." Like its renowned predecessors, it
+absolutely swarms with thrilling and dramatic incidents and adventures,
+everything being fresh, original and delightful. The spell of
+fascination is cast over the reader in the opening chapter and remains
+unbroken to the end. It deals chiefly with the astounding career of
+Esperance, Monte-Cristo's son, whose heroic devotion to Jane Zeld is one
+of the most touching and romantic love stories ever written. The scenes
+in Algeria have a wild charm, especially the abduction of Esperance and
+his struggle with the Sultan on the oasis in the desert. Haydee's
+experience in the slave mart at Constantinople is particularly stirring
+and realistic, while the episodes in which the Count of Monte-Cristo
+figures are exceedingly graphic. The entire novel is powerful and
+interesting in the extreme. That it will be read by all who have read
+"The Count of Monte-Cristo" and will delight them is certain.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+NEW YORK:
+
+WM. L. ALLISON COMPANY,
+
+PUBLISHERS.
+
+
+COPYRIGHT.--1884.
+
+T. B. PETERSON & BROTHERS.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+_"The Son of Monte-Cristo," the sequel to "The Wife of Monte-Cristo,"
+and end of the continuation of Dumas' masterwork, "The Count of
+Monte-Cristo," is in all respects a great novel. Romantic in the highest
+degree, powerful in the widest sense of the term and absorbingly
+interesting, it is a work absolutely without parallel at the present
+day. Every chapter has a strong and stirring feature of its own, while
+all the legions of intensely thrilling incidents are as original and
+surprising as they are strong. The hero is Esperance, the son of the
+Count of Monte-Cristo, who is followed from boyhood to the close of his
+wonderful and unprecedented career. His varied and remarkable adventures
+form a succession of amazing episodes never equalled in fiction, while
+his love for the unfortunate Jane Zeld and the strange complications to
+which it gives rise are depicted in the most fascinating fashion. The
+Count of Monte-Cristo and Haydee also have thrilling adventures, and
+Mercedes, Benedetto, Sanselme and Danglars, together with Fanfar, again
+appear. The hosts of admirers of "The Count of Monte-Cristo" should read
+"The Son of Monte-Cristo," as well as all who relish a novel of rare
+merit. They will certainly be delighted with it._
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+_"The Son of Monte-Cristo" stands at the head of all exciting and
+absorbing novels. It is the sequel to "The Wife of Monte-Cristo," and
+the end of the continuation of that phenomenal romance, Alexander Dumas'
+"Count of Monte-Cristo." Like its renowned predecessors, it absolutely
+swarms with thrilling and dramatic incidents and adventures, everything
+being fresh, original and delightful. The spell of fascination is cast
+over the reader in the opening chapter and remains unbroken to the end.
+It deals chiefly with the astounding career of Esperance, Monte-Cristo's
+son, whose heroic devotion to Jane Zeld is one of the most touching and
+romantic love stories ever written. The scenes in Algeria have a wild
+charm, especially the abduction of Esperance and his struggle with the
+Sultan on the oasis in the desert. Haydee's experience in the slave mart
+at Constantinople is particularly stirring and realistic, while the
+episodes in which the Count of Monte-Cristo figures are exceedingly
+graphic. The entire novel is powerful and interesting in the extreme.
+That it will be read by all who have read "The Count of Monte-Cristo"
+and will delight them is certain._
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS.
+
+
+Chapter.                                      Page.
+
+      I. ESPERANCE, THE SON OF MONTE-CRISTO      15
+
+     II. HAYDEE, THE WIFE OF MONTE-CRISTO        23
+
+    III. THE COUNT OF MONTE-CRISTO               32
+
+     IV. FANFAR'S ADVENTURES.--CAIN              38
+
+      V. WHAT PIERRE KNEW                        40
+
+     VI. FRATERNAL THOUGHTS                      57
+
+    VII. THE VILLAGE                             61
+
+   VIII. THE PAST OF FRANCOISE                   71
+
+     IX. WHERE THE INVASION PASSES               76
+
+      X. THE HUT AT OUTREMONT                    82
+
+     XI. CHILDREN IN DARKNESS                    87
+
+    XII. THE RISING SUN                          90
+
+   XIII. MISCHIEF                                96
+
+    XIV. TWO PLACES, S. V. P.                   102
+
+     XV. MASTER AND SERVANT                     107
+
+    XVI. WALK IN, GENTLEMEN!                    118
+
+   XVII. ROBECCAL'S IDEA                        125
+
+  XVIII. PIERRE LABARRE                         133
+
+    XIX. A FIRST MEETING                        142
+
+     XX. THIN PARTITIONS                        147
+
+    XXI. THE GRATITUDE OF A MARQUIS             154
+
+   XXII. POOR BOBICHEL                          161
+
+  XXIII. FRANCE--1824                           170
+
+   XXIV. THE MARQUISE                           180
+
+    XXV. THE VEAU SAUTE                         188
+
+   XXVI. A MAN CHASE                            197
+
+  XXVII. A GHOST                                204
+
+ XXVIII. CINETTE! CINETTE!                      212
+
+   XXIX. A CONSPIRACY                           217
+
+    XXX. MACHIAVELLI & CO.                      224
+
+   XXXI. TRIUMPH                                229
+
+  XXXII. SURPRISES                              233
+
+ XXXIII. FACE TO FACE                           237
+
+  XXXIV. LEIGOUTTE                              246
+
+   XXXV. THE NEST                               258
+
+  XXXVI. SUPREME EFFORT                         266
+
+ XXXVII. THE TRIAL                              275
+
+XXXVIII. THE CRISIS                             278
+
+  XXXIX. THE AUTOPSY                            286
+
+     XL. BETWEEN CHARYBDIS AND SCYLLA           291
+
+    XLI. VIDOCQ, THE CHIEF OF POLICE            296
+
+   XLII. TO THOSE WHO LOVE FANFAR               298
+
+  XLIII. A LETTER FROM MONTE-CRISTO             304
+
+   XLIV. ESPERANCE                              307
+
+    XLV. "WHAT WILL HE DO?"                     310
+
+   XLVI. FORWARD!                               313
+
+  XLVII. JANE ZELD                              320
+
+ XLVIII. A THUNDER CLAP                         332
+
+   XLIX. HOW AND WHERE                          338
+
+      L. CATASTROPHES                           345
+
+     LI. A SHOT FROM A REVOLVER                 353
+
+    LII. "WILL JANE ZELD LIVE?"                 357
+
+   LIII. JANE ZELD'S SECRET                     361
+
+    LIV. CARMEN                                 382
+
+     LV. THE BANKER                             390
+
+    LVI. ESPERANCE, MONTE-CRISTO'S SON          397
+
+   LVII. THEY MUST BE SAVED                     402
+
+  LVIII. GOUTRAN AND CARMEN                     412
+
+    LIX. UPON THE TRACK                         422
+
+     LX. ESPERANCE IN DESPAIR                   428
+
+    LXI. ESPERANCE GOES TO COURBERRIE           430
+
+   LXII. COUCON                                 435
+
+  LXIII. CARMEN KEEPS HER WORD                  438
+
+   LXIV. THE PLOT                               447
+
+    LXV. THE MYSTERIOUS SIGNALS                 451
+
+   LXVI. UNITED IN DEATH                        456
+
+  LXVII. THE SPECTRE                            462
+
+ LXVIII. MONTE-CRISTO, THE MARTYR               468
+
+   LXIX. EPILOGUE                               471
+
+
+
+
+      THE
+
+      SON OF MONTE-CRISTO.
+
+      SEQUEL TO
+
+      THE WIFE OF MONTE-CRISTO.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I.
+
+ESPERANCE, THE SON OF MONTE-CRISTO.
+
+
+Esperance, the son of Monte-Cristo, lay sleeping in the comfortable bed
+provided for him in the house of Fanfar, the French colonist, as related
+at the close of the preceding volume, "The Wife of Monte-Cristo." The
+prostration and exhaustion brought on by the excitement and fatigue of
+his terrible adventure with the remorseless Khouans rendered his sleep
+as leaden as the sleep of death; indeed, had it not been for his heavy
+respiration, he might have been mistaken for a corpse. But ordinary
+difficulties were not to conquer the heroic son of Monte-Cristo, who
+seemed to have inherited all the marvelous power and energy of his noble
+father, and as he lay there in the hot Algerian night, amid the balmy
+perfume of the luxuriant tropical flowers, a mysterious smile hovered
+about the corners of his sharply cut lips that told unmistakably of a
+fearless nature and a firm desire to promote the success of the good and
+the true. Esperance slept, and the lion in him was dormant; it was,
+however, destined soon to be aroused.
+
+In another room, around the family table, Fanfar and his guests were
+seated, the Count of Monte-Cristo occupying the place of honor. The
+colonist, at the urgent solicitation of those with whom he had so
+strangely been brought in contact, was about to relate the story of his
+life, when suddenly Monte-Cristo's quick ear caught a sound.
+
+"What was that?" he said in a startled whisper, instantly springing to
+his feet.
+
+"I heard nothing," said Fanfar.
+
+"It was, perhaps, the cry of some wild beast," suggested Captain
+Joliette.
+
+Monte-Cristo hastened to his son's apartment, followed by Fanfar,
+Captain Joliette and Coucon, the Zouave.
+
+The boy was still sleeping soundly, and the apartment was altogether
+undisturbed.
+
+Monte-Cristo uttered a sigh of relief; he bent over the beautiful child
+and gently kissed him on the forehead.
+
+The party returned to the adjoining room and resumed their seats.
+Scarcely had they done so when a dark form, shrouded in a green
+bournous, appeared stealthily at the open window of Esperance's
+chamber, and, gazing furtively around, lightly sprang into the room.
+
+"Dog of a Frenchman!" hissed the intruder in a low tone between his
+teeth. "When you flung me over the battlements of Ouargla, you fancied
+you had killed me; but Maldar bears a charmed life and will have a
+bitter revenge!"
+
+The intruder was indeed Maldar, the Sultan, who by some miracle had
+escaped Monte-Cristo's vengeance.
+
+As he spoke he shook his fist in the direction of the Count, who was
+sitting at the table with the rest of Fanfar's guests, though his sombre
+air and clouded brow told that, while preserving his outward calmness,
+he yet suspected the presence of a deadly foe.
+
+Maldar had removed his sandals, and his footsteps were noiseless. He
+went to the bed and stood for an instant gloating over the slumbering
+boy.
+
+"I failed before, but I shall not fail again. Allah is great! I will
+strike this giaour of a Frenchman in his tenderest spot--his heart! The
+son shall pay the father's debt!"
+
+Half-crouching and gathering his green bournous closely about him, he
+crept cautiously back to the window and made the sign of the crescent in
+the air. There was a slight flash, a pale phosphorescent glow, and in
+the midst of it the emblem of Islam appeared for an instant like a
+semi-circle of fire and then vanished.
+
+Immediately a Khouan showed himself at the window; he leaped into the
+apartment, followed by three others of his fanatical and pitiless tribe.
+The new-comers instantly knelt at Maldar's feet and kissed the hem of
+his bournous.
+
+"Son of the Prophet," said one of them, "we are here to do your
+bidding!"
+
+"Rise," said Maldar, "and seize yonder lad, first gagging him with this
+sacred scarf made from Mohammed's own sainted vestment. Be quick and
+bear him to the desert!"
+
+The Khouan who had acted as spokesman took the scarf from Maldar's hand
+and skilfully executed his command. Esperance was in such a deep slumber
+that he did not make a movement, even when the Arab lifted him from the
+bed and held him in his arms.
+
+"Away!" cried Maldar in an undertone, adding, as the Khouan sprang from
+the window and disappeared in the darkness without: "Now, Count of
+Monte-Cristo, you are once more at my mercy, and this time you will not
+escape my vengeance!"
+
+He darted through the window, motioning to the remaining Khouans to do
+likewise. In an instant the room was empty; the Arabs had vanished like
+a vision of the night.
+
+Ten, fifteen minutes passed, and still not a sound to break the torpor
+of the Algerian night, save the hum of conversation around the table of
+Fanfar, the colonist. Monte-Cristo's sombre air had not passed away. He
+was a prey to a species of uneasiness he had never experienced before.
+Fanfar, noticing that the Count was disturbed, that some mysterious
+influence was working upon him, hesitated to commence his narration.
+Finally he said to him:
+
+"Count, are you anxious concerning your son? If so, you can dismiss your
+anxiety. The lad is in perfect safety beneath my roof; his slumber will
+refresh him, and he will awake entirely restored. As for the Khouans,
+they never deign to visit my humble habitation, and they will hardly
+break their rule to come here now. Still, to satisfy you and put all
+your apprehensions at rest, I will go and take a look at the lad."
+
+He arose and went to Esperance's room. In an instant he returned. His
+face had the pallor of wax.
+
+Monte-Cristo leaped nervously to his feet and stood staring at him, his
+countenance wearing an expression of intense anguish.
+
+"Well?" said he, in an unsteady voice.
+
+Fanfar was breathless with excitement and terror. When he could find
+words, he said:
+
+"The lad is gone!"
+
+"My God!" cried Monte-Cristo, putting his hand to his forehead and
+staggering beneath the overwhelming blow, "I felt it! I had a
+premonition of some impending disaster, I knew not what! Oh! Esperance!
+Esperance!"
+
+He hurried into the adjoining room and stood beside the empty bed. The
+moon was now shining in unclouded splendor and the apartment was almost
+as light as day. The slight covering had been torn from the couch and
+lay in a heap on the floor. Near it a small object sparkled; the
+agonized father stooped and picked it up: it was a miniature dagger of
+oriental workmanship, and upon its jeweled handle was an inscription in
+the Arabic tongue. Monte-Cristo took the weapon to the window and the
+full light of the silvery moonbeams fell upon it. The inscription was
+from the Koran, and was a maxim adopted by the Khouan tribe. The Count
+read it and trembled.
+
+"I recognize this weapon," said he; "it is Maldar's. The Sultan is
+living and has been here! It is to him I owe this terrible
+misfortune--he has carried away my son!"
+
+Miss Elphys approached the Count and touched his arm.
+
+"We must start in pursuit at once!" said she, with a look of courage and
+determination.
+
+"We?" cried Madame Caraman, aghast. "You, surely, do not mean again to
+face the dangers of this barbarous country, to go upon another Quixotic
+expedition, and drag me with you? Remember you are a woman! Besides,
+there are plenty of men here for the task!"
+
+Clary glanced at the governess with indignation, but vouchsafed no reply
+to her selfish speech.
+
+"Mademoiselle," said Captain Joliette, addressing the heroic girl, "your
+feelings do you honor; but I for one cannot consent for you to imperil
+your life in a night hunt for the dastardly Khouans, who have certainly
+made their way to the desert with the abducted lad. Madame Caraman is
+right; you must not again face the dangers of this barbarous country.
+Remain here with Madame Irene and Madame Caraman. I will organize and
+lead the pursuit."
+
+Monte-Cristo, who, in the face of the new dangers that threatened his
+son, had recovered somewhat of his accustomed calmness, came to them and
+said:
+
+"I thank you, Miss Elphys, for your generosity and bravery, but you must
+take the Captain's advice. Captain Joliette, I fully appreciate your
+motives in wishing to take command in this pursuit, but, at the same
+time, I must claim the precedence. Remember I am a father, and have a
+father's duty to perform. I will lead the pursuit."
+
+Captain Joliette bowed.
+
+"So be it," said he, "it is your right."
+
+Coucon, Fanfar, Gratillet and Iron Jaws eagerly offered their services,
+and even Bobichel forgot his merry pranks and demanded to accompany the
+expedition. The Count of Monte-Cristo desired the former clown to remain
+for the protection of the ladies, but Miss Elphys protested against
+this.
+
+"Take Bobichel with you," she said. "We can protect ourselves."
+
+Bobichel, overjoyed, ran for the horses, and the little army instantly
+mounted, riding away toward the desert at the top of their animals'
+speed, with Monte-Cristo at their head.
+
+Meanwhile Maldar and his Khouan followers were dashing along at a rapid
+pace on the fleet Arab coursers with which they were provided. One of
+the party bore Esperance before him on his saddle. The boy had not been
+aroused from his lethargic sleep by the abduction and subsequent flight.
+He slept peacefully and profoundly.
+
+The fanatical Arabs maintained unbroken silence, and the sound of their
+horses' hoofs was deadened by the sand.
+
+Maldar rode a trifle in advance. Now that the excitement of the
+abduction had worn off, he was as stoical as the rest, but occasionally,
+as he thought of his triumph over Monte-Cristo and the vengeance he was
+about to take upon his hated enemy, for he had decided to put Esperance
+to a lingering and terrible death and send the lad's gory head to the
+agonized father, a grim smile stole over his otherwise impassible
+countenance, and a demoniac gleam shot from his eyes.
+
+But suddenly a faint sound was heard in the far distance. It came from
+the direction of Fanfar's farm. Maldar listened attentively; then he
+said to the Khouans, whose quick ears had also detected the sound:
+
+"Ride like the wind, sons of the Prophet! We are pursued! The Count of
+Monte-Cristo and his unbelieving French hounds are on our track! But if
+they would overtake us and recover the boy, they must have the cunning
+of serpents and horses as fleet as the lightning's flash!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II.
+
+HAYDEE, THE WIFE OF MONTE-CRISTO.
+
+
+It was in Monte-Cristo's luxurious mansion in Marseilles, one bright
+morning in April. Since the Count's departure for Algeria in search of
+her son, Mercedes, faithful to her oath never to leave Haydee, had taken
+up her residence there. The two women who had filled such important
+places in the life of Monte-Cristo were sitting together in the large
+drawing-room, the windows of which looked out upon the calm blue waters
+of the Mediterranean. These windows were open and through them floated
+the delightful perfume of the flowers from the garden beyond, mingled
+with the saline odors of the sea. It was about ten o'clock and the sun,
+high in the heavens, inundated the vast apartment with its golden light
+and filled it with a generous warmth.
+
+Haydee, the wife of Monte-Cristo, reclined upon an oriental rug, her
+head pillowed in the lap of Mercedes, who sat on a divan elegantly
+upholstered in the eastern fashion. Mercedes was lightly toying with
+Haydee's glossy hair that fell like a cloud about her shapely shoulders.
+Her eyes were beaming with affection, while those of Haydee had in them
+a dreamy, faraway look.
+
+"Sister," said Mercedes at last, "why are you so sad and silent?"
+
+"I know not," replied the wife of Monte-Cristo, languidly.
+
+"You are thinking of your husband, the noblest of men, who is even now,
+perhaps, risking his life in the Algerian desert to save and recover my
+son."
+
+"You speak truly," returned Haydee with a shudder; "I am thinking of
+him, and my heart is strangely oppressed."
+
+"Have confidence in Monte-Cristo," said her companion, earnestly. "His
+lion courage, wonderful mental resources and mysterious power will
+render him more than a match for the untutored Arabs with whom it is his
+mission to contend."
+
+"Yes, Mercedes; but my son, my Esperance? He is so young to be exposed
+to the dangers of the desert!"
+
+"But Monte-Cristo is with him, and the father's love will shield him
+from all harm."
+
+Haydee made no reply, but continued to gaze dreamily into space.
+Mercedes, still toying with her hair, strove to rouse her.
+
+"Sister," said she, abruptly, "yesterday you promised to tell me how
+Monte-Cristo rescued you from the hands of the Turkish slave-dealer, Ali
+Pasha. Will you not fulfil that promise now?"
+
+Haydee turned her eyes full on her companion's countenance and a look of
+gratitude passed over her pale visage. She saw that Mercedes wished to
+draw her mind from the contemplation of her husband's present peril by
+inducing her to revert to his heroism of the past.
+
+"I will tell you," said she, "here in this apartment where everything,
+even to the very air, is vital with souvenirs of my beloved husband."
+And, without altering her position, Haydee at once commenced the
+following thrilling narration:
+
+"We were cruising off the coast of Egypt in the Alcyon, when the idea of
+visiting Constantinople suddenly occurred to Monte-Cristo. He gave his
+orders without an instant's delay and the yacht was immediately headed
+for the Sultan's dominions.
+
+"We reached Constantinople in due time, after an exceedingly pleasant
+voyage, for though it was toward the close of spring the weather was
+mild and for weeks the sea had been as calm and unruffled as a mirror.
+
+"As we entered the Bosporus, we noticed a strange craft hovering near
+us. It was a small, rakish-looking vessel bearing the Turkish flag.
+Monte-Cristo had run up his private ensign on the Alcyon, an ensign that
+was recognized by all nations and gave the yacht free entrance into
+every port.
+
+"The strange craft seemed to be following us, but as it made no attempt
+to approach the yacht, we soon became used to its presence and ceased to
+give it attention.
+
+"When the Alcyon anchored, a gorgeously decorated caique, manned by a
+score of stalwart oarsmen, shot from shore and was soon alongside of the
+yacht. A magnificently-appareled old man with a long, snowy beard,
+attended by four solemn and stately eunuchs, came on board and was
+ceremoniously received by the Count. It was the Grand Vizier, who,
+having recognized Monte-Cristo's ensign, had hastened to welcome the
+illustrious hero to Constantinople in the name of his august master, the
+Sultan.
+
+"Such an honor merited prompt and becoming recognition, and Monte-Cristo
+was too much of a Frenchman not to return compliment for compliment.
+Leaving the Alcyon in charge of his first officer, and bidding me a
+hasty and tender farewell, the Count entered the caique with the Grand
+Vizier and departed to pay his respects in person to the ruler of the
+Turkish nation.
+
+"No sooner was the caique lost to sight among the shipping than the
+strange craft we had previously observed suddenly ran up to the yacht
+and made fast to her with grappling-irons. Before Monte-Cristo's men
+could recover from their surprise at this manoeuvre they were made
+prisoners and securely bound by twenty Turkish buccaneers, who had
+leaped over the bulwarks of the Alcyon, headed by a villainous-looking
+wretch, furiously brandishing a jeweled yataghan. This was Ali Pasha,
+the slave-dealer, as I soon learned to my cost.
+
+"When the ruffians boarded the yacht, I had rushed below and hidden
+myself in Monte-Cristo's cabin, first securing a keen-bladed dagger for
+my defence.
+
+"I had locked the door, but it was almost instantly burst open and Ali
+Pasha leaped in, followed by several of his crew.
+
+"Holding my weapon uplifted in my hand, I cried out, in a tone of
+desperate determination:
+
+"'The first scoundrel who dares to lay a finger on me shall die like a
+dog!'
+
+"This speech was greeted with a loud burst of contemptuous laughter, and
+Ali Pasha himself, springing forward, whirled the dagger from my grasp
+with his yataghan. This done, he sternly fixed his glance upon me and
+said:
+
+"'Haydee, wife of Monte-Cristo, Haydee, the Greek slave, you are my
+captive! Sons of Islam, seize her and conduct her to the slave mart of
+Stamboul!'
+
+"Three Turks advanced to obey this command. They seized me and in vain
+did I struggle in their ruffianly grasp. In a moment I was securely
+bound and gagged. A mantle was thrown over my head. I felt myself thrust
+into a sack and swooned just as one of the buccaneers was lifting me
+upon his shoulder.
+
+"When I recovered consciousness, I found myself, with a number of
+half-clad Georgian and Circassian girls, in the dreaded slave bazaar of
+Constantinople. Old memories, fraught with terror, rushed upon me. I
+recalled the time when I was before exposed for sale and Monte-Cristo
+had bought me. Would he come to my rescue once more? I scarcely dared to
+hope for such a thing. I pictured to myself the Count's desolation and
+distress on discovering that I had been stolen from him. But what could
+he do? How could he find me again? And even should he discover me, how
+could he snatch me from the grasp of Ali Pasha, whose favor with the
+Sultan was notorious? Monte-Cristo, with all his prestige, was but one
+man, and no match for the mendaciousness, duplicity and power of the
+entire Turkish court! I was lost, and nothing could save me!
+
+"How shall I describe my feelings when I realized that I was even then,
+at that very moment, exposed for sale, that from being the free and
+honored wife of Monte-Cristo I had suddenly become a mere article of
+human merchandise, valued simply at so many miserable piastres! My fate
+hung upon a thread. Would I be purchased by some grandee as a new
+ornament for his harem, or was I destined to fall into the hands of a
+brutal master, to be used as a household drudge for the execution of
+bitter and revolting tasks?
+
+"When each new purchaser entered the bazaar I trembled from head to
+foot, I quivered in every limb. One by one I saw the unfortunate
+Georgian and Circassian girls inspected and disposed of, until at last I
+was the only slave unsold in the entire mart. I thought my turn must
+speedily come, that the next Mussulman who entered would surely buy me,
+and I had firmly resolved upon suicide at the first opportunity,
+choosing death rather than slavery.
+
+"Ali Pasha had personally conducted all the visitors about the bazaar,
+dilating in the extravagant oriental fashion upon the extraordinary
+merits of the captives he wished to turn into money. Many times he had
+paused before me where I stood cowering in a corner, volubly expatiating
+on my value and attractiveness, but hitherto not a single Turk had
+evinced the slightest inclination to relieve him of me.
+
+"At last two men made their appearance and eagerly glanced around the
+mart. Both wore turbans and full Turkish dress. Their faces were
+shrouded with heavy beards, and there was an indescribable something
+about them that stamped them as personages of exalted rank.
+
+"They paused a short distance from me, and one of them said, addressing
+Ali Pasha:
+
+"'What is the name of yonder slave?'
+
+"'Zuleika,' answered the obsequious and unscrupulous slave-dealer.
+
+"'From what country is she and how did you obtain possession of her?'
+asked the second visitor, who had not yet spoken. His voice was subdued
+and evidently disguised; nevertheless there was something familiar in
+its tone that strangely stirred me and filled me with hope.
+
+"Ali Pasha replied to his inquiry with unblushing effrontery:
+
+"'The slave is from Circassia, and was sold to me by her parents.'
+
+"I know not how I obtained the courage to do so, but instantly I cried
+out:
+
+"'All that vile wretch has said is false! My name is Haydee, and I am
+the wife of the Count of Monte-Cristo! Ali Pasha forcibly abducted me
+from my husband's yacht that now lies in the harbor of Constantinople!'
+
+"'Ali Pasha,' said the first speaker, 'this is a grave accusation! It is
+true that the illustrious Monte-Cristo's yacht now lies in the harbor of
+Stamboul, and such an abduction as this slave has mentioned did,
+indeed, take place.'
+
+"The slave-dealer winced slightly, but, instantly recovering himself,
+calmly answered:
+
+"'I know nothing of Monte-Cristo, his yacht or his wife. As for this
+lying slave, I will punish her on the spot!'
+
+"With these words he advanced toward me and lifted his clenched fist to
+strike. I shrank tremblingly against the wall, but the next instant a
+blow that would have felled an ox had hurled Ali Pasha to the stone
+floor of the bazaar. It was delivered by the man whose voice had seemed
+familiar to me, and, tearing off his beard, my husband, the undaunted
+Count of Monte-Cristo himself, caught me in his arms and folded me to
+his breast!
+
+"Ali Pasha had now arisen to his feet. Livid with rage he rushed at
+Monte-Cristo with a dagger in his hand, swearing by the Prophet that he
+would have his heart's blood. But the other visitor caught his arm and
+held him back.
+
+"'Who are you and why do you stand between me and my just revenge?'
+cried the slave-dealer, furiously.
+
+"The stranger threw open his robe, and on his breast gleamed a
+diamond-studded crescent.
+
+"'The Grand Vizier!' exclaimed Ali Pasha, prostrating himself before the
+high official. The latter clapped his hands, whereupon six soldiers
+marched into the bazaar.
+
+"'Seize that wretch!' he cried, pointing to the slave-dealer, 'and
+inflict upon him the punishment of the bastinado!'
+
+"When this order had been executed, the Grand Vizier, placing himself at
+the head of the soldiers, escorted Monte-Cristo and myself to the harbor
+and saw us safely on board the royal caique.
+
+"In due time we reached the yacht, where the officers and crew were at
+their posts as usual.
+
+"After his interview with the Sultan, Monte-Cristo, accompanied by the
+Grand Vizier, had returned to the Alcyon in the caique. To his
+astonishment he found his men lying on the deck tightly bound. On
+releasing them he learned what had happened, and his influence was
+sufficient to induce the Grand Vizier, who was greatly affected by the
+Count's despair when he discovered the terrible fate that had befallen
+me, to risk the Sultan's displeasure by aiding him to recover me from
+the clutches of Ali Pasha.
+
+"Such," concluded Haydee, "was the manner in which Monte-Cristo rescued
+me from the hands of the villainous Turkish slave-dealer and a fate
+worse than death."
+
+"Sister," said Mercedes, "no wonder you love Monte-Cristo so devotedly,
+for he is one of the noblest and most heroic men upon this earth!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III.
+
+THE COUNT OF MONTE-CRISTO.
+
+
+Maldar and his Khouan followers had reached the desert with their
+captive. For a long time they heard Monte-Cristo and his men in hot
+pursuit of them, but the sound, growing fainter and fainter, had finally
+ceased. The Sultan concluded that the Count had been misled by some
+fancied indication and had taken a wrong direction. He therefore gave
+himself no further concern in regard to him. Once in the desert he
+slackened the pace of his Arab steed and the Khouans imitated his
+example. The party rode on for several miles when they arrived at a
+small oasis, covered with tall palm trees, that resembled an island of
+verdure amid the far-reaching waste of arid sand. There Maldar gave the
+order to dismount. The Khouans sprang lightly from their weary horses,
+both men and animals going directly to the wells, where they took long
+draughts of the cool, refreshing water. The night was now far spent, and
+as the abductors of Esperance threw themselves upon the grass
+surrounding the wells, the first rosy streaks of dawn appeared in the
+eastern heavens. The horses stood cropping the verdure for a brief
+period, then they also lay down for rest and recuperation. Soon slumber
+reigned supreme, for Maldar, fearing neither pursuit nor attack, had
+not taken the precaution to post sentinels. The scarf had been removed
+from Esperance's mouth, and the son of Monte-Cristo, still wrapped in
+his lethargic sleep, lay on the sod beside Maldar near one of the wells.
+It was a wild and picturesque group, such a group as would have filled
+the soul of a painter with delight and inspiration.
+
+As the light increased, but while it was yet vague and uncertain, giving
+a demoniac and supernatural cast to the group and its tropical
+surroundings, Esperance suddenly awoke and raised himself upon his
+elbow. For an instant he gazed around him in bewilderment and terror.
+Was he dead, and were those swarthy-visaged forms extended motionless on
+the grass of the oasis the forms of fiends? This thought shot through
+his mind and augmented his consternation. When he fell asleep he was
+with his father, with the dauntless Monte-Cristo, and the last faces he
+had seen were the faces of French people and friends. Now he was in the
+midst of beings of another race, in the midst of strangers. Strangers?
+No, for at that moment his eyes rested on Maldar, and he realized that
+he was again in the clutches of his remorseless foe, and that the men
+around him belonged to the dreaded Khouan tribe.
+
+He was unbound; nothing restrained his movements and not a single guard
+was watching over him. His fear vanished with his bewilderment and gave
+place to heroic resolution. Why should he not escape and make his way
+back to his beloved father and devoted countrymen? He arose cautiously
+to his feet, and peered into the distance. His heart throbbed with
+anguish, for beyond the narrow confines of the green oasis, as far as
+his eye could reach, stretched the trackless sands of the arid and
+inhospitable desert. Flight would be madness, nay, perhaps, death, but
+would it not also be death to remain? The son of Monte-Cristo, full of
+his father's unconquerable spirit, determined to take the chances of
+flight. Doubtless Monte-Cristo and his friends were even now scouring
+the desert in search of him. If he could mount one of the Khouans'
+horses and escape from the hands of his fanatical foes, he might meet
+them.
+
+Esperance stole cautiously toward an Arab courser, but he had not taken
+a dozen steps when Maldar awoke, leaped to his feet, ran to him and laid
+an iron hand upon his shoulder.
+
+"So you thought to escape me, did you, son of Monte-Cristo?" said the
+Sultan, with a mocking laugh and a fiendish light in big eyes. "By the
+beard of the Prophet, your presumption is unbounded! But you are mine,
+and no power on earth can save you now!"
+
+The heroic lad gazed full in Maldar's face and, without the quiver of a
+muscle, answered defiantly:
+
+"Wretch that you are to war on defenceless children, I do not fear you!
+Harm but a single hair of my head, and Monte-Cristo will grind you into
+dust!"
+
+Maldar replied with a sneer: "Monte-Cristo, the infidel charlatan, is
+miles away. With all his boasted power he can do nothing to aid you. I
+have you now, and you shall die!"
+
+With the quickness of lightning Esperance thrust out his hand, seizing
+the Sultan's jeweled yataghan and drawing it from its scabbard. At the
+same time he raised it above his head and brought it down, aiming it
+straight at Maldar's heart. The Sultan parried the thrust with his arm,
+receiving a gaping wound from which the blood gushed in a ruby stream.
+Smarting with pain and foaming with rage, he threw himself upon the
+daring boy, tore the yataghan from his grasp, and with its heavy handle
+struck him a blow on the head that stretched him senseless at his feet.
+
+The noise of the conflict awoke the Khouans, who sprang up and rushed to
+their chief.
+
+One of them drew a long-bladed knife and was about to stab the prostrate
+and unconscious boy, but the Sultan restrained him with an impatient
+gesture.
+
+"Not here," said he. "The sacrifice can only be made in the mosque of
+the Khouans, thrice dedicated to Mohammed and reserved for the holiest
+rite of Islam, the rite of vengeance!" Motioning to the Khouan to take
+the insensible boy from the ground, he added "Now to horse and for the
+mosque. Bear our captive in your arms."
+
+The Arabs mounted and were soon dashing across the desert, headed by the
+Sultan, who had hastily stanched the blood flowing from his arm and
+bound up the wound.
+
+Half an hour later, Monte-Cristo and his men reached the oasis. The
+Count and Captain Joliette rode to the wells and at once saw where the
+grass had been beaten down by the Khouans and their horses.
+
+"They have been here and recently, too," said Captain Joliette.
+
+"Thank God!" said Monte-Cristo, fervently. "We are on their track! But
+what is that?" he added. "Is it blood?"
+
+Coucon and Fanfar, who had been attentively examining the stain,
+simultaneously answered:
+
+"It is blood."
+
+"My God!" cried Monte-Cristo, with a convulsive start, "then they have
+slain my son!"
+
+"Not so, Count," said Captain Joliette. "Had they slain Esperance they
+would have left his body here. But see," resumed he, pointing to the
+spot where Esperance had made the attack on Maldar; "here are evidences
+of a struggle; they have fought among themselves and one of them has
+been wounded."
+
+"Heaven grant it may be so!" said Monte-Cristo.
+
+The party started off again, following the track of the Arabs' horses,
+and after an hour's ride came in sight of a long, low building with a
+gleaming minaret, standing alone in the midst of the desert.
+
+"The mosque of the Khouans!" cried Captain Joliette, triumphantly.
+"Maldar and his ruffians are there! Look! Yonder are their horses!"
+
+Monte-Cristo and his men reached the building and leaped to the ground;
+they left their panting animals in charge of Bobichel, and, drawing
+their revolvers, made their way into the mosque.
+
+There a sight met their eyes that almost froze the blood in their veins.
+
+Esperance, with his hands tied behind him and stripped to the waist,
+was kneeling upon a large, flat stone in the centre of the mosque. Over
+him stood Maldar, his yataghan uplifted to strike. The four Khouans
+stood at a short distance, chanting what was evidently a death-hymn.
+
+Instantly Monte-Cristo aimed his weapon at the Sultan and fired. Maldar
+fell dead beside his intended victim.
+
+The other Arabs leaped through the open windows and, mounting their
+horses, fled across the desert.
+
+Monte-Cristo caught his son in his arms.
+
+"Esperance, my beloved!" he cried.
+
+"Father!" exclaimed the rescued lad, clasping his arms about
+Monte-Cristo's neck.
+
+Esperance's garments were quickly restored to him by Fanfar, and when he
+was clad in them, the party again mounted and started on their return to
+the colonist's farm.
+
+There is no need to describe the toilsome journey, it was accomplished
+in due time, and once more Esperance was safe in his father's care.
+
+The ladies gave the heroes of the expedition a most enthusiastic
+welcome, Miss Elphys shedding tears of joy as Esperance told her how his
+heroic father had saved him from death at Maldar's hands.
+
+The next evening, when the excitement had somewhat subsided and
+Monte-Cristo and his men had fully recovered from their fatigue, Fanfar
+began the story of his life, which will be related in the succeeding
+chapters.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV.
+
+FANFAR'S ADVENTURES--CAIN.
+
+
+Toward the middle of December, 1813, a man was riding through the Black
+Forest.
+
+This man seemed to be still in the vigor of youth. He wore a long, brown
+surtout and leathern gaiters. His hair was worn in a queue, and
+powdered. Night was coming on, and Pierre Labarre, confidential servant
+of the Marquis de Fongereues, was somewhat weary and eager to get on.
+
+"Quick!" he said to his horse. "Quick! They are waiting for us, and we
+are the bearers of good news!"
+
+The animal seemed to understand, and accelerated his pace.
+
+Suddenly Pierre started. He had reached a group of nine trees, one of
+which had been struck by lightning, making the group a conspicuous one.
+The rider listened as he pulled up his steed.
+
+"Surely," he said to himself, "I heard the trot of a horse on the other
+side of the Nine Trees!"
+
+The road widened here and divided. He laid his hand on his breast by an
+involuntary movement.
+
+"The portfolio is safe, any way! Get on, Margotte." And he lifted his
+reins.
+
+But, as if this movement were a signal, he heard distinctly a horse
+coming toward him, this time at a full gallop, and then Pierre saw a
+shadow pass some thirty yards away.
+
+He drew out a pistol, and rode with it in his hand until he passed the
+cross-road, but he saw and heard nothing more. Perhaps he had been
+mistaken--it was only a messenger traveling the same road as himself. He
+had entered the path which in a half hour would take him into Fribourg,
+when suddenly there was a flash and a report. A ball struck Pierre in
+the breast--he fell forward on the neck of his horse. A man came out of
+the shadow on the side of the road. This man was wrapped in a cloak.
+Just as he laid his hand on the bridle of the horse, Pierre straightened
+himself in his saddle.
+
+"You are in too great a hurry, bandit!" he shouted, firing his pistol at
+the assassin at the same moment.
+
+The man uttered a terrible cry, and then, with a superhuman effort,
+sprang into the wood. Pierre fired again, but this time hit nothing.
+
+"It was a good idea of mine," he said, rubbing his chest, "to use this
+portfolio as a breastplate. And now, Margotte, carry me to Fribourg
+without further adventures!"
+
+As Margotte obeyed the spur, her master heard the gallop of another
+horse dying away in the distance.
+
+"Strange!" he said. "I could not see his face, but it seemed to me that
+I knew his voice when he cried out!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V.
+
+WHAT PIERRE KNEW.
+
+
+The Place Notre Dame at Fribourg was crowded with citizens and soldiers.
+The citizens wore troubled, and talked together in low voices, while the
+soldiers were noisy and abusive against France.
+
+The colossal spire of the Cathedral threw its shadow over this scene.
+
+Sovereigns and diplomats, ready for an invasion of France, had left
+Frankfort for Fribourg, there to complete their plans of vengeance and
+hate.
+
+Blucher, with Sachen and Laugeron, had concentrated their troops between
+Mayence and Coblentz. The Prince de Schwartzemberg was marching toward
+Bale. The Swiss were irritated, believing that their neutrality would be
+violated.
+
+In the Chamber of Commerce the Emperor Alexander, with Metternich and
+Lord Castlereagh, were studying maps, eager for the fray and the
+dismemberment of France. Count Pozzo de Borga was on his way to England.
+
+On the Place de Ministre a tall mansion faces the Cathedral. Steps, with
+wrought iron railings, lead to the oaken door, well barred with steel.
+On the second floor, in a large, gloomy room, several persons are
+assembled. The last rays of the setting sun are coming from the high
+windows through the heavy panes of glass set in lead.
+
+Standing near a window is a lady in black, looking out on the Square;
+her hand caresses a child who clings to her skirts. The two corners of
+the chimney in which are burning resinous logs of wood are occupied. On
+one side sits an old man, on the other a lady wrapped in a cloak that
+covers her entirely.
+
+The Marquis de Fongereues is only sixty, but his white hair, his
+wrinkles, and the sad senility of his countenance gave him the
+appearance of an octogenarian. He sits motionless, his hands crossed on
+his knees. The lady opposite, whose head rests on the high oak back of
+her chair, is not yet forty. Her face is hard, and her eyes, fixed upon
+the Marquis, seem eager to read his thoughts. She is Pauline de
+Maillezais--Marquise de Fongereues--and the lady at the window is
+Magdalena, Vicomtesse de Talizac. Her husband, Jean de Talizac, is the
+son of the Marquis de Fongereues. Suddenly the old man said:
+
+"Where is Jean?"
+
+Magdalena started, as if this voice, breaking the silence of the room,
+had startled her.
+
+"He has been away since morning," she replied, in a voice that she
+endeavored to render careless.
+
+"Ah!" said the Marquis, relapsing into silence. Presently he inquired
+what time it was.
+
+"Let me see--I wish to tell him," cried the child, leaving his mother's
+side and running across the room to a console table, on which stood an
+elaborate clock.
+
+Frederic, the son of the Vicomte de Talizac, is deformed. One shoulder
+is higher than the other, and he limps, but he seems alert.
+
+"It is seven o'clock," he said, in a sharp voice.
+
+The door was thrown open at this moment, and a German officer appeared.
+Madame Fongereues rose hastily.
+
+"And what is the decision, Monsieur de Karlstein?" she asked.
+
+The officer bowed low to each of the three persons in the room, and then
+said, quietly:
+
+"To-morrow the allied armies will cross the French frontier."
+
+"At last!" exclaimed Madame de Fongereues, and Madame de Talizac uttered
+a cry of joy. The Marquis was unmoved.
+
+"The details--give us the details!" said the young Marquise.
+
+"We shall reach France through Switzerland," said the German, "and
+penetrate the heart of the empire. Lord Castlereagh approves of this
+plan and the Emperor Alexander gives it favorable consideration."
+
+"And in a month the king will be at the Tuileries!" said Madame de
+Talizac.
+
+The German did not notice this remark.
+
+"And now, ladies, will you kindly permit me to retire? In two hours I
+leave with my company."
+
+Madame de Fongereues extended her hand to him.
+
+"Go, sir," she said. "Go aid in this sacred work! Insolent France must
+learn that the most sacred rights cannot be trodden under foot with
+impunity. Let the chastisement be as terrible as has been the crime!"
+
+Monsieur de Karlstein bowed low and went out.
+
+"At last!" repeated the Marquise. "These French have insulted and
+despised us too long! Twenty-five years of exile! It is twenty-five
+years since my father the Comte de Maillezais took me in his arms and,
+pointing toward Paris, said, 'Child! remember that the day will come
+when these men will kill their king, as they have forced your father to
+fly for his life.' Monsieur Fongereues, do you hear? Are you not glad to
+return as master among these men who drove you away, and with you all
+that there was great and noble in France?"
+
+The old man turned his head.
+
+"God protect France!" he said, solemnly.
+
+A shout of laughter rang through the room. It was the son of Vicomte
+Jean, who was laughing at his grandfather.
+
+Madame de Talizac shrugged her shoulders impatiently. Madame de
+Fongereues made her a sign.
+
+"Come," she said, "the Marquis is sinking into his second childhood, and
+his follies irritate me."
+
+The child took his mother's hand.
+
+"We shall be the masters now, mamma, shall we not?"
+
+The Vicomtesse murmured, as she left the room,
+
+"Why has not Jean come? Can it be that he has not succeeded!"
+
+Hardly had they disappeared than a door, concealed behind a hanging,
+slowly opened.
+
+Pierre Labarre appeared and noiselessly approaching his master, knelt at
+his feet.
+
+"Master," he said, respectfully, "I have returned."
+
+The Marquis started. "You have come!" he exclaimed, then dropping his
+voice, he added, "Quick! Simon?"
+
+"Hush! not so loud!" said Pierre; then whispering in the old man's ear,
+"He is living!" he said.
+
+The Marquis half closed his eyes, and his lips moved in prayer, while
+large tears slowly ran down his withered cheeks.
+
+The Marquis belonged to one of the oldest families of Languedoc. His
+ancestors had served France faithfully and had held positions of trust
+near the persons of the kings. The present Marquis had committed a fault
+not easily forgiven by the _ancien regime_. He had married the daughter
+of a farmer, when he was twenty, in spite of the threats of his family.
+This union was of short duration, for his wife died in giving birth to a
+son. This blow was so sudden that the young man abandoned himself to
+despair. He shut himself up from the world on an estate he had among the
+Vosges mountains, and lived only for his child.
+
+The beloved dead, though of peasant blood, had been an extraordinary
+woman. She, young as she was, had thought much, and felt deeply the
+sufferings of her class. She pointed out to the Marquis how the people
+were weighed down by taxes, and how little their hard toil availed
+them.
+
+"Friend," said Simonne, "thou art wealthy, thou belongest to the
+privileged class, give and speak. Open thy hand, and raise thy voice!"
+
+She endeavored to awaken in his heart a noble ambition. He was twenty
+and he loved. Had she lived, Armand would, undoubtedly, have been one of
+the greatest actors in the crisis then preparing, but now that she was
+gone, he forgot the glorious legacy she had bequeathed to him. He
+detested the court, however, and determined that his son should grow up
+far away from its influences. Simon, therefore, passed his childhood
+among the mountains drinking in the delicious air, and growing as freely
+as a young tree.
+
+But Armand was weak. His friends and family, who had fallen away from
+him at the time of his marriage, now sought to bring him back. He
+resisted for a time, but at last went to Versailles. The king received
+him proudly and said, "Monsieur de Fongereues, it is not well in you to
+abandon us thus. The throne needs its faithful supporters."
+
+A few days later he was presented to Mademoiselle de Maillezais--her
+beauty was of that quality that dazzles rather than pleases. She made
+herself very attractive on this occasion, anxious to take back to the
+king this nobleman who had so nearly been lost.
+
+In 1779, Armand married this lady. Simon, the peasant's son, was then
+five years of age. When his father spoke of him to his wife some little
+time after their marriage, she replied:
+
+"You will, of course, do as you choose, but I should say that any
+change would be likely to injure his health."
+
+The Marquis was glad to seize any excuse for keeping Simonne's son away
+from that society which his mother had so strongly condemned. It was
+with the feeling, therefore, that he was obeying the wishes of his
+beloved dead, that he left Simon among the mountains.
+
+It was at this time that the war begun by the enemies of Nechar against
+his innovations reached its height. The nobles and the clergy, feeling
+their privileges attacked, organized against the Genoese banker a
+campaign in which he was to fall. The Maillezais family were Nechar's
+pitiless adversaries, and in spite of himself the Marquis was carried
+along with them. His wife had acquired a supremacy over him that daily
+increased. His weak nature was ever ready to be influenced by others,
+and his natural enthusiasm originally aroused by Simonne for another
+cause, was perverted to the profit of the _ancien regime_, and finally
+he was one of the first to applaud the words of Louis XVI., when he
+signed his name to an edict which inflicted on the country a new debt of
+four hundred and twenty million.
+
+"It is _legal_ because _I wish it_."
+
+Nevertheless, the Marquis often thought of Simonne when he was alone. He
+recalled her beautiful, energetic face, her pathetic, eloquent words.
+Then he longed to see her son, whom his present wife hated. She herself
+had become a mother; the Vicomte Jean Talizac had been held at the
+baptismal font by the Queen Marie Antoinette.
+
+The Marquise determined to oust Simon from his place in his father's
+heart. She but half succeeded in this, and was too wise to attack the
+memory of the dead.
+
+The Marquis wrote in secret to his son, and occasionally went to see him
+among the Vosges, and embraced the lad, who inherited all his mother's
+intelligence and goodness.
+
+Then the Vicomte returned like a truant schoolboy to Versailles, and the
+Marquise brought in her boy with an expression that seemed to say, "This
+is your boy! He is the one in whose veins runs only noble blood!"
+
+In 1787 the Marquis was dangerously ill. His wife was devoted to him,
+and one day when he was in a critical condition she said, gently:
+
+"Shall I send for the peasant's child?"
+
+He closed his eyes and did not reply. When, after long weeks of illness,
+he was restored to health, he belonged to the Marquise. He never spoke
+of his eldest child, and adored Jean.
+
+Then came the emigration. Monsieur de Fongereues, friend of Conde and of
+Polignac, yielded to his wife's entreaties and joined the Prince de
+Conde at Worms, where he was making an appeal to foreign powers against
+France. Although yielding to the wishes of the Marquise, De Fongereues
+was fully aware that it was a base act to desert his country, and excite
+against her the hatred of her most violent enemies. Young Simon, the
+son of the peasant, could not join in this parricidal act, although the
+Marquis sent Pierre Labarre, who was even then in his service, to his
+son, then fifteen years of age, to sound his views. If the youth would
+enter the army of Conde, the Marquis assured him a brilliant future. If
+he remained in France, however, he could no longer rely on his father,
+who, however, sent him a large sum of money. The youth refused the
+money, and replied:
+
+"Say to my father that I love him, and that if ever he requires a
+devoted heart and a courageous arm that he may summon me to his side;
+but now, if I am to choose between poverty in my own country and wealth
+in a foreign land, I remain here!"
+
+"It was Simonne's soul that spoke through his lips!" murmured the
+Marquis, when Pierre repeated the message sent by the young man.
+
+The father and son did not meet after 1790. We will now return to
+Fribourg, to that room where Pierre Labarre had just told the Marquis
+that Simon was living.
+
+Twenty-five years had elapsed--twenty-five years of anguish and sorrow
+for the Marquis. He had seen France fighting with heroic energy against
+all Europe. He had heard the enthusiastic shouts of 1792, and then the
+dull groans of the people crushed under the heel of the conqueror. And
+while his country bled and fought, the Marquis blushed with shame in
+London, Berlin and Vienna when his French ears heard the maledictions of
+the conquered.
+
+As soon as his son, the Vicomte Jean, reached the age of twenty, he had
+become one of the most active agents of the coalition, and, as if to
+indicate his hatred of France, married a German.
+
+From that time the Marquis heard nothing but abuse of France, nothing
+but exultation when her sons fell in Spain or in Russia. The old man's
+heart was sore within him, but it was then too late for him to make a
+stand, and he was obliged to live on amid this hatred.
+
+Once only did Jean go to France to lend his aid to Cadondal's
+conspiracy, but he was obliged to flee precipitately, and with
+difficulty succeeded in gaining the frontier. On his return he was in a
+state of sullen rage. Was it despair at his lack of success, or did the
+Vicomte feel any remorse? His father watched him with troubled eyes and
+many fears, but did not dare ask a question.
+
+What had become of Simon? The Marquis had read in a newspaper that a
+Simon Fougere carried the orders of the day at the battle of
+Hohenlinden. He leaped at once at the truth. Simonne's son was fighting
+for his country, while his other son, the Vicomte de Talizac, was
+fighting against it.
+
+Suddenly the Marquis beheld the fall of the Imperial idol. The allied
+armies were in France. Vengeance was near at hand!
+
+Three times the Marquis sent Pierre to France, but the faithful servant
+could learn nothing of Simon, but this last time he discovered that
+Simon was living. Pierre had been in the service of the Marquis for
+forty years. He had known Simonne, and felt for his master the deepest
+affection. He was of the people, and only this affection had induced him
+to leave France. By degrees he had become the confidant of his master,
+and read his half-broken heart like an open book, and realized that it
+was full of regrets, almost of remorse. Then he swore to himself that he
+would aid the Marquis to repair the injustice done to Simon. It is
+needless to say that Pierre's honest nature felt no sympathy for the
+Marquise. She, on the contrary, was the object of his deepest aversion,
+for he well knew that she had done her best to have him dismissed from
+the service of the Marquis.
+
+The Vicomte de Talizac, the Vicomtesse, and their son, detested Pierre
+and watched him closely, with what aim they alone knew.
+
+"I went to the Vosges, master," said Pierre. "I learned that the soldier
+known by the name of Simon Fougere had gone to Lorraine. I could learn
+nothing more. I went about everywhere--to Epinal, Nancy, Saint Die--and
+I had begun to despair, when one evening I reached the foot of a
+mountain and saw a little cluster of houses. I asked a peasant who was
+passing if I could procure accommodations there for the night.
+
+"Of course," he answered. "Go straight ahead and you will come to friend
+Simon's inn."
+
+The Marquis listened breathlessly. Pierre continued:
+
+"The name was a common one in that part of the country, as I had good
+reason to know, but this time my heart began to beat. I thanked the
+peasant and I hurried on. And when I think that a Comte de
+Fongereues----"
+
+"It was he, then!" cried the Marquis, snatching his servant's hands.
+"And you saw him? Tell me everything!"
+
+"He is happy," answered Pierre. "But, master, let me tell my story in my
+own way, for then I shall forget nothing. I went into a little inn,
+which was as clean as possible and bore the sign, 'France!' A fire of
+vine branches was sparkling in the big chimney. A boy of about ten came
+to meet me. 'My friend,' I said, 'is this the inn of Monsieur Simon?'"
+
+"'Yes, sir,' he replied, looking at me with soft, dark eyes. I felt as
+if I had seen him before."
+
+"What! do you mean----" cried the Marquis.
+
+"Wait, master, wait. I told him that I wanted supper and a bed. The boy
+ran toward a little door and called: 'Mamma! Mamma!' A woman appeared in
+peasant dress, with dark hair and eyes. She carried a little girl on one
+arm. The mother looked about thirty, and the girl was some six years of
+age.
+
+"'Take a chair, sir,' said the mistress of the house. 'We will do the
+best we can for you.' Then she told the boy to take the horse to the
+stable and call his father. I took my seat by the fire and reflected
+that Simon would not be likely to know me, if it were he, as he had not
+seen me for thirty years. You had bidden me take care not to betray
+myself, but I knew that Time had done his work.
+
+"'The country about here looks very dreary,' I said to Madame Simon. She
+turned in surprise from her work. She was laying the table for my
+supper.
+
+"'Ah! you are a stranger here!' she answered with a smile. 'No, it is
+not dreary; it is much pleasanter here than in the cities.'
+
+"'But in winter?' I persisted.
+
+"'Oh! the mountains are magnificent then.'
+
+"'Have you been living here long, Madame?'
+
+"'Ten years,' she replied.
+
+"'And these beautiful children are yours?'
+
+"She hesitated a moment, or I thought so, but she said in a moment:
+
+"'Yes, they are mine, and you will see their father presently, the best
+man in this place!' She brought in a bowl of steaming soup. 'Excuse the
+simplicity of the service, sir.' The door opened, and, master, if it had
+been in Africa, or thousands of miles from France, I should have known
+Simonne's son. He had his great deep eyes, but, master----"
+
+Pierre stopped short.
+
+"Go on; you frighten me!" cried the Marquis.
+
+"Oh! master, Monsieur Simon has lost a leg. I saw it at once, and the
+tears came to my eyes. He lost it at Elchingen, in 1805--it was shot off
+by a cannon ball."
+
+The Marquis started.
+
+"And his brother was there, too!" he murmured. "Go on, Pierre."
+
+"I knew him at once, as I was saying. He is tall, he is strong; his hair
+is turning gray, and he wears a heavy moustache, and was dressed in
+peasant costume. He came to me, and said in a voice that was so like his
+mother's: 'You are welcome!' I extended my hand, he did not seem to be
+astonished, and received it cordially. I went to the table, and while I
+ate my soup I watched him closely. He took the little girl up in his
+arms, and began to talk to her in a low voice, and the child listened
+intently. I could not hear what was said, but presently the child came
+running to me.
+
+"'Monsieur,' she cried, 'will you do me a favor?'
+
+"'Certainly,' I replied.
+
+"'Will you drink with papa to the French army?'
+
+"'Most gladly!' I answered, wondering at the same time if Simon took me
+for a spy. The mere idea made me feel ill, and I wanted to tell him who
+I was, when he came to the table with a couple of glasses.
+
+"'To the success of our arms shall be our toast, sir!' he said. I
+answered, as I raised my glass to my lips: 'To France!' His eyes flashed
+with joy. These words had evidently conquered his distrust.
+
+"'Would it be indiscreet to ask, sir, by what strange chance you are in
+this wild place?'
+
+"I told him, for I had to lie, that I had lost my way. He looked at me a
+moment.
+
+"'You come from Germany, do you not?'
+
+"'Are you a sorcerer?' I exclaimed.
+
+"'No--it is plain to see that by the cut and the material of your
+clothing. But is it true,' he continued rapidly, 'that the allied armies
+are about to cross the frontier?'
+
+"'Alas! I fear so. But you do not know our last disaster, then?'
+
+"'Fortune has betrayed us, but patience--patience!'
+
+"'Do you think that further resistance is possible?' I asked.
+
+"'I am a soldier of France!' was his proud reply. 'I believe in my
+banner and my country!' He then asked me many questions, and finally one
+that made my heart leap to my throat.
+
+"'Is it true that the French emigres have accepted positions in these
+foreign armies?' I protested my ignorance. He passed his hand over his
+brow, as if to chase away unfortunate doubts, and I changed the
+conversation.
+
+"'These lovely children are yours?' I asked.
+
+"'Yes--and this is my wife, Francoise Simon, the best of women, who has
+consoled me in many sorrows, and this is Jacques, my eldest, and you
+know Francinette. Perhaps you will give me your name now?'
+
+"'One moment--you have not introduced yourself.'
+
+"'I am called Simon,' he answered with a frown.
+
+"'Simon--and nothing else?'
+
+"'Nothing else. If I ever bore another name, I have forgotten it. I
+fought in 1791. I was wounded and compelled to leave the service.' He
+spoke with some nervousness.
+
+"'Are your parents living?' I asked. He looked at me intently, and
+pouring out a glass of wine, he carried it to his lips with a steady
+hand.
+
+"'I never knew them,' he replied.
+
+"We talked for some time, and he told me that after he recovered from
+his wound he entered the service of a rich farmer, and soon saved enough
+to lease a small farm for himself, where he carried on his small
+business as an inn and kept a school, 'for,' he said, 'I had received a
+good education, and wished to do something for the children about me.'
+
+"It was midnight before I went to my room, and I arose as soon as I
+heard a movement below, but, early as it was, Simon had already gone
+out. I felt that I must return to you without waiting to see him again.
+I had formed a plan which I trust you will approve of. I went to the
+Mayor and obtained a copy of Simon's papers. You know since the new code
+any one can get such papers, and I said something about a lawsuit."
+
+"And you have these papers?"
+
+"Yes--in a portfolio in my breast."
+
+He touched his breast as he spoke and uttered an exclamation of pain. "I
+had forgotten," he said, and then told his master of the attack made on
+him in the Black Forest.
+
+"That is very strange," said the Marquis, thoughtfully.
+
+"At all events, I wounded him," Pierre replied.
+
+At this moment there was a sound just outside the door. The Marquis
+threw it open quickly, but there was nothing to be seen.
+
+"I was sure I heard--"
+
+"This old, worm-eaten wood makes strange noises when the dampness gets
+into it," said Pierre.
+
+The Marquis read the papers carefully which Pierre now gave him.
+
+"But there were two children at the time?" he said to Pierre. "Where is
+the certificate of the birth of Jacques?"
+
+Pierre hesitated. "When Simon and Francoise were married," he answered,
+reluctantly, "Jacques was already born."
+
+"And now," said the Marquis, "I must make some change in my will. My
+poor boy, in these papers, does not give his real name, nor the place of
+his birth, but we will soon remedy that."
+
+"But why do you talk of your will! You must see your son, master, and
+then you can make all things right."
+
+"I have grown very old lately, and have little strength left, but I hope
+to embrace my son Simon before I die; but I am in the hands of God. I
+wish to incorporate these papers in my will and then there will be no
+difficulty in proving Simon's relationship."
+
+"But what do you fear?" asked Pierre.
+
+The Marquis looked at him.
+
+"Why this question? You know as well as I."
+
+"Do you think that the Vicomte would have the audacity--"
+
+The Marquis laid his hand on his servant's breast.
+
+"There is no peasant," he said, slowly and emphatically, "no peasant in
+these parts who is capable of such a crime."
+
+Pierre bowed his head; he understood.
+
+"And this is not all," continued his master, "a will may be lost, may be
+stolen. I wish to provide for everything, and wish that Simon and his
+children shall be rich."
+
+The Marquis went on speaking in so low a voice that no one but the
+servant could possibly hear.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI.
+
+FRATERNAL THOUGHTS.
+
+
+When the Marquise, her daughter-in-law, and grandson left the salon, a
+servant attached especially to the service of the Vicomte approached.
+
+"Madame la Vicomtesse," said Cyprien, "my master wishes to see you; he
+is in his chamber."
+
+"Go, my child," interposed the Marquise, "but leave the boy with me, for
+I hate to be alone in these rooms which are drearier than a cloister."
+
+The Vicomtesse de Talizac was of Austrian origin, and concealed under an
+air of languid indifference the most boundless ambition. Her large eyes
+were light and generally without expression, but on occasion they grew
+dark and flashed fire.
+
+She had married the Vicomte de Talizac with the idea that she would thus
+obtain a high position at the French Court, knowing well moreover that
+the immense fortune of the Fongereueses would ensure her princely
+luxury. The Vicomtesse was both proud and avaricious, and her nature
+rebelled at the smallest check to her secret aspirations. Her only son
+came into the world hopelessly deformed, but his mother adored him to
+whom Nature had given neither physical nor moral beauty. She labored to
+make him as selfish and indifferent as herself. She determined that as
+he grew to man's estate, he should be feared rather than pitied, and to
+do this it was necessary that he should be immensely rich. He was taught
+from his cradle to hate France. When his mother saw that the hour of
+triumph for the emigres, the traitors, was near at hand, she was filled
+with bitter joy.
+
+None of these people realized the work that had been going on for twenty
+years, and had little idea of the changes that had taken place. They
+ignored them all, and were only anxious to restore everything to the old
+condition.
+
+The Vicomte de Talizac and his wife were especially eager for these
+results. There was but one shadow on their brilliant future. The fortune
+of the Vicomte had nearly gone--the fortune of the Fongereues family
+remained, but the Vicomte was well aware that his father had contracted
+an early marriage, and that of this union a son was born, with whom, to
+be sure, the old Marquis seemed to have broken entirely, but of late de
+Talizac began to realize that the father's love had outlived this
+separation; and, moreover, indulged in no possible delusion in regard to
+himself; he did not love his father, and knew that his father did not
+love him. Madame de Fongereues was also well aware of the tender
+reverence in which Simonne was held by the Marquis, and was convinced
+that the peasant's son was not forgotten.
+
+Where was Simon? Were he to appear it would be ruin for the Vicomte.
+When Magdalena fully realized this, she snatched her son in her arms,
+and said to his father:
+
+"If you are not weak and childish, this Simon will never despoil our
+son!"
+
+De Talizac understood her.
+
+We resume our recital at the moment when the Vicomtesse entered her
+husband's room, where he was lying on the couch. He signed to her to
+close the door. The Marquis was the living image of his mother, except
+that her beautiful regular features became in his face bony and
+repulsive.
+
+"Well?" said the Vicomtesse, going up to the couch.
+
+"I am wounded," he answered. "The man escaped me."
+
+His wife frowned.
+
+"Really!" she said, "one might think that the Vicomte de Talizac was
+strong enough to conquer a lacquey!"
+
+"Hush!" cried the Vicomte, his eyes flashing fire, "do you think that I
+require you to remind me of the shame of my defeat? I have been for
+days, as you well know, on the track of the hound. I hid by the wayside
+to-night, like a murderer, and I saw him press his hand to his breast as
+if to assure himself of the safety of some package which undoubtedly
+contained the secret so necessary to the safety of our future. By what
+miracle the fellow escaped, I can't divine. I saw him fall forward, but
+he suddenly fired at me--but I did at all events as I promised you to
+do--"
+
+"I can only say that our son is ruined!"
+
+"No, not yet; listen to me. Pierre is with my father at this moment;
+hasten and listen to the conversation."
+
+"But he is locked in his room!"
+
+"I know that, Magdalena. Raise that curtain; you will find a door which
+opens on a staircase in the wall; go down twenty steps, then stop, pass
+your hand over the wall until you feel a spring; press it, and it will
+open. You will find a small window concealed within the room by the
+carving, and you can hear every word that is spoken--"
+
+"Very good; but your wound--"
+
+"Is not of much consequence; but hasten, for your son's sake."
+
+The Vicomtesse disappeared.
+
+This explains the noise that had attracted the attention of the Marquis.
+
+An hour later Magdalena returned to her husband. "I know enough," she
+said. "Your brother Simon is married--he has two sons, and lives in the
+village of Leigoutte."
+
+A cruel smile wandered over the lips of the Vicomte.
+
+"Ah! the invasion will then take that direction!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII.
+
+THE VILLAGE.
+
+
+On the 1st of January, 1814, it was known that foreign forces had
+invaded France. It was a terrible surprise when fugitives passed through
+the villages crying, "Save yourselves, while there is yet time!"
+
+Mothers wept for their sons, wives for their husbands, sisters for their
+brothers!
+
+The winter was a severe one. The Vosges mountains and the villages in
+the valleys were alike wrapped in snow.
+
+The inn which our readers already know at Leigoutte, presented a most
+picturesque appearance. The snow had been so heavy for several days that
+the woodcutters had not been up the mountains to bring down the wood,
+but this morning they had determined to make an attempt, and had
+gathered before the inn with their long light sledges on their
+shoulders. They seemed to be waiting for some one. "Can Simon be sick?"
+asked one of these men, finally.
+
+"Not he!" answered another. "He is at the school-room with the children,
+and he never knows when to leave them."
+
+"Oh! that is very well," grumbled a third, "but I think we had better
+go in and get a glass of wine, than wait here all this time."
+
+"Have a little patience, friend; if Simon teaches our children, it is
+that they may be better off than their fathers, and not like them be
+compelled to die with cold and fatigue some day among the mountains!"
+
+"Well said, friend, well said!" called out a full rich voice.
+
+Every one turned. The door of the school-room was open, and he who had
+spoken was standing with arms outspread to prevent the children from
+rushing out too hastily on the slippery ice.
+
+"Not so quick, children," he cried. "You can't fly over the snow like
+lapwings."
+
+A boy of about ten repeated these words to the smaller children.
+
+"That is right, Jacques," said Simon, "begin early, for you may have
+this school some day yourself!"
+
+"Good morning, Master Simon," said one of the woodcutters, taking off
+his hat, "we were just saying that we should like something warm before
+we started."
+
+"And you are right. I beg your pardon for keeping you waiting. I was
+just telling the children about a battle of the Republic at Valmy."
+
+"Take my arm, sir," cried one of the woodcutters. "That wooden leg of
+yours is not very safe on the ice."
+
+"Am I not here?" asked Jacques, in a vexed voice, "can I not look out
+for my father?"
+
+Simon laughed.
+
+"But why," he asked, "have you not asked for wine at the inn?"
+
+"Because we heard that the little girl was ill, sir--"
+
+"Oh! it is nothing of any consequence--there she is, as rosy and smiling
+as ever."
+
+When Simon's voice was heard, the inn awoke from its silence. A woman
+appeared on the threshold holding in her arms a pretty little creature
+about six years old.
+
+The mother was a simple peasant woman, wearing a peasant's dress. She
+began to fill glasses for these woodcutters, who addressed her with a
+cordial good morning.
+
+At this moment the door was hastily opened, and a man appeared on the
+threshold. The woodcutters uttered a cry of surprise. The man was a
+soldier, who leaned against the wall and did not speak.
+
+Simon hurried forward. "You are welcome, comrade," he exclaimed.
+
+The man turned pale, and but for Simon's support, he would have fallen
+on the floor.
+
+"Francoise, a chair!" cried the innkeeper.
+
+The soldier had his head wrapped in a blue handkerchief, and drops of
+blood were upon his cheek. His uniform was in rags, and a linen bandage
+was wrapped around one leg.
+
+The men looked on with terrified respect while Simon tried to make him
+drink a glass of wine, and signed to Jacques to take off the soldier's
+shoes, now covered with snow.
+
+The soldier uttered a deep sigh of relief. He was a peasant of about
+forty, although his moustache was gray. His features bore the traces of
+suffering and privations.
+
+"Some brandy!" he gasped.
+
+Little Francinette carried the glass to him. He drank it, looking the
+while at the child with admiration and sad envy. Then taking her on his
+knee, he looked around him at the honest faces, and said:
+
+"My name is Michel--Michel Charmoze. There are thirty of us down on the
+road, all wounded, in a big wagon. The horses have fallen, one is dead,
+and we have come for help."
+
+The woodcutters looked from one to the other in amazement.
+
+"What!" cried the soldier, "do you know nothing in this land of snow? I
+have been fighting three months on the Rhine. The Emperor has deserted
+us. All is over!"
+
+The peasants listened in a stupefied sort of way. Only the vaguest
+rumors had as yet reached the peasants that Napoleon's star had begun to
+pale. Simon knew it, but he had held his peace.
+
+"Where are the wounded?" he asked, quietly.
+
+"A quarter of a league down the road."
+
+"My friends," said Simon, "we have no horses, but your arms are strong.
+You must save these Frenchmen!"
+
+"We are ready!" shouted twenty voices.
+
+"Father, may I go, too?" asked Jacques, eagerly.
+
+"Yes," said Simon, kindly. "You may go, and take some brandy with you."
+
+The woodcutters took also shovels, sticks and ropes.
+
+"When they come back," said Simon to his wife, "you must have a good
+meal ready. Carry straw into the school-room, tear up your old sheets
+into bandages, and send to Wisembach for the doctor."
+
+"But the child--what am I to do with her?" asked Francoise, timidly.
+
+"Oh! I will look out for her," cried the soldier. "I had a little girl
+of my own, but since I have been away, both mother and child have died!"
+
+Simon and Michel were alone for a few moments. The little girl still sat
+on the soldier's knee, gravely enlarging one of the holes in his uniform
+with her busy little fingers.
+
+"Then the invaders are in France?" said Simon.
+
+"They are, indeed, but they won't stay long--be sure of that!"
+
+"What army is it that is advancing in this direction?" asked Simon.
+
+"Schwartzemberg's, with Russians, Prussians and Austrians."
+
+"How far off are they?"
+
+"Not more than ten leagues. We were nearly overtaken by them. They would
+not have got thus far had we not been betrayed by everybody. Those dogs
+of Royalists have felt no shame to be seen with these enemies of
+France!"
+
+Simon started.
+
+"Do you mean," he asked sternly, "that the emigres have dared----"
+
+"Yes, they have dared to do just that!" and Michel swore a frightful
+oath. "I believe that there are Frenchmen who would lead these savages
+on, to roast and kill their own mothers!"
+
+Simon had become deadly pale.
+
+"Yes," continued the soldier. "Let me tell you about this wound." And he
+tore off the handkerchief around his head. His eyes at that moment fell
+on Simon's wooden leg, which he had not before seen. "Ah! you are one of
+us, then?" exclaimed Michel.
+
+Simon nodded. "Go on with your story, my friend," he said.
+
+"Well, we had just crossed the Rhine, and were getting on famously when
+we saw the detachment that had attacked us. I knew by their caps that
+they were Russians. We sheltered ourselves behind a wall, and then we
+let fly. I tell you, that was a fight! In front of me was a tall fellow
+who fought like the very devil. I pricked him with a bayonet, and he
+opened his arms wide and yelled--good Lord! I hear that yell now--'I am
+killed! Here! help for Talizac!' He shot at me the same moment. Now,
+friend, was not that a French name? But what is the matter with you?"
+
+Simon had dropped into a chair. He was as white as a sheet, and his eyes
+were fixed on vacancy.
+
+The soldier looked at him for a moment. "Come!" he said, "give me
+another glass, and we will drink to our country!"
+
+At this moment Francoise came in hurriedly.
+
+"Simon!" she cried, "the peasants are coming here from every direction.
+They say that the foreigners are coming this way, and they bid us fly!"
+
+Simon went to the door. Francoise had spoken the truth. On all the roads
+and on all the mountain paths crowds were seen of men, women and
+children.
+
+If the rout of an army is terrible, that of a people is infinitely more
+so. This flight from home and fireside is sad beyond expression. These
+peasants were running, carrying on their shoulders all that they held
+most precious. Their houses had been searched, for these peasants had
+served in the rising of '92, and they probably had arms. An old man was
+shot for concealing a pistol. At another place brutes had insulted the
+women, and burned the cottages deserted by the fugitives. This was the
+day that Napoleon Bonaparte had replied to the _corps legislatif_, who
+supplicated him to return to the people their lost liberty: "France is a
+man!--I am that man--with my will, my fame, and my power!"
+
+The woodcutters now returned, dragging the huge wagon they had dug out
+of the snow-drifts. Simon rapidly explained to several peasants the
+preparations he had made, and under his instructions they hastened to
+remove the wounded from the wagon. It was a terrible sight--eleven out
+of the twenty-eight were dead. But in fifteen minutes the living were
+lying on the fresh straw spread in the school-room, and Simon and his
+wife were going from one to another of these poor sufferers, alleviating
+their sufferings as far as possible. Suddenly a great noise was heard
+without, followed by the most profound silence. Simon started.
+
+"What was that!" he asked, quickly.
+
+The door opened, and Michel appeared.
+
+"The Cossacks!" he cried. "Come, Master Simon, come!"
+
+Simon obeyed, signing to his wife to take his place. He went outside,
+and beheld some twenty men mounted on thin but vigorous-looking horses.
+The men were of medium height, bearded like goats and ugly as monkeys.
+They wore loose robes fastened into the waists with red scarfs. On their
+heads were high cylindrical caps. Some wore over their shoulders cloaks
+of bear skins. Their high saddles formed boxes in which they could pack
+away their booty. They looked down on the crowd with small, twinkling
+eyes set far in under bushy brows and low foreheads. At their head was
+an officer in the Austrian uniform.
+
+The crowd fled to the further end of the open space, and the women
+clasped their crying children to their breasts. Simon walked directly
+toward the officer.
+
+"Who are you, and what do you want?" he asked, politely but firmly.
+
+The officer did not seem to hear him--he was looking intently at the
+inn. Simon repeated his question, this time in German. The Austrian then
+concluded to look at him.
+
+"Is this village Leigoutte?" he asked. "And is that your inn?" And the
+soldier pointed to the inn.
+
+"What business is that of yours?" asked Simon, who by this time had
+become excessively angry.
+
+"Give my men something to drink."
+
+Simon clenched his hands as he replied:
+
+"I never give anything to the enemies of my country!"
+
+The Cossacks understood him and uttered a groan.
+
+"We shall take it by force, then!" said the officer, spurring his horse
+toward Simon, but the latter pulled out a pistol and pointed it at the
+Austrian.
+
+"One step further!" he shouted, "and I will blow out your brains!"
+
+The Austrian pulled up his steed, and saying a few words to his men,
+they turned their horses and departed.
+
+"We shall see you again!" shouted the Austrian, over his shoulder.
+
+The peasants uttered a shout of joy, but Simon was very thoughtful.
+
+"Why," said he, to himself, "should there be a reconnoissance expressly
+for this village?"
+
+The men now crowded around Simon.
+
+"You frightened them well!" they said. "How ugly they are!" They
+laughed, and seemed to think all danger was past.
+
+Simon and Michel exchanged a look, then the former raised his hand to
+command silence.
+
+"My friends," he said, "they will return, and bring many more with them.
+Those among you who are not afraid to fight, may remain with me. But we
+must see at once about a place of safety for the women and children. It
+will be easy for twenty or thirty of us to keep these invaders from
+coming to this point again, for we know each mountain path. We have
+arms, for I long since concealed one hundred guns in my house, and
+these mountains--the ramparts of France, shall become inaccessible
+citadels. The enemy will approach in a compact column; we must send out
+scouts who will keep us informed. It is too late to-day for the attack
+to take place. Two of you will go to the neighboring villages and give
+the alarm. We will meet to-morrow at the Iron Cross. And remember,
+children, that in '92, as to-day, the invaders threatened France, and
+your fathers drove them out. May the children of those men be worthy of
+them!"
+
+"But about the women and children?" asked Michel.
+
+"They must be hidden in the farm-houses up the mountains. The wounded
+are protected by the code of war. Courage, then, and shout with me Vive
+la France!"
+
+These words aroused immense enthusiasm for a few minutes.
+
+Simon felt a hand on his; it was Francoise, with her little girl in her
+arms, and Jacques at her side.
+
+"We shall not leave you, Simon," said his wife. "But I wish to speak to
+you a moment."
+
+Simon looked at her in surprise. Then turning to Michel, "You will
+complete the arrangements. Jacques will show you where the arms are
+stored."
+
+"Rely on us, Simon!" shouted the peasants. "We will do our duty!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII.
+
+THE PAST OF FRANCOISE.
+
+
+Simon followed his wife into the house. She closed the door behind her.
+Simon was struck by the strange expression in her face. Was it anxiety
+for him that had clouded that placid brow?
+
+"Friend," said Francoise, "you must know all. I saw that Austrian
+officer from the window, and recognized him--"
+
+"Recognized him!"
+
+"Yes, for the man who dishonored my sister that fatal night of the 16th
+of May, 1804, at Sachemont, was not alone. He was accompanied by the
+Count of Karlstein, the man whom you have just seen. I cannot dwell upon
+the terrors of that night. I escaped--but my poor sister! Nor did I ever
+speak of that man to you. I felt that Talizac was enough for us to
+hate."
+
+"Yes, dear, I see; and I, too, have something to tell, for, when after
+long months in the hospital at Dresden, I was permitted to leave it, I
+wandered, I know not where; but I reached a hut--it was in February,
+1805--I saw a light and knocked. There was no answer, and I opened the
+door and went in. To my horror, I beheld a woman dead, and heard an
+infant screaming its heart out."
+
+"Poor little Jacques!" said Francoise, weeping.
+
+"I saw a cup of milk on the table; I gave some to the infant. Presently
+you came in, and did not seem astonished to find the child in my arms.
+The physician you had gone to seek looked at the poor woman, said she
+was dead, and that he could do nothing. We were left alone together. It
+seemed as if you trusted me at once. Your hands trembled, and it was I
+who closed the eyes of the dead. The next day we followed the poor girl
+to the grave, and when one of the rough peasants who bore the bier on
+which she lay, asked you who I was, you answered simply, 'A friend!'
+
+"After we returned to the hut, I asked you who the dead girl was, and
+then you pronounced the name of Talizac, and heard that a gentleman of
+France had conducted himself like a base coward--"
+
+"But an honorable man said to me, 'Shall we repair the crime of another?
+Shall we not give this little one a home and a family?' I became your
+wife, your happy, honored companion, and poor Jacques will never know
+that he owes his life to a base profligate."
+
+Simon laid his hand on his wife's head.
+
+"Do you know why Simon Fougere wished to make reparation for the crime
+of the Vicomte de Talizac?"
+
+"Because Simon Fougere had a loyal and generous heart!"
+
+"Because," said Simon, in solemn tones, "because the Vicomte de Talizac
+is my brother!"
+
+"Your brother! But who, then, are you?"
+
+"The son of the Marquis de Fongereues," and in a few words Simon
+explained to his wife the situation already known to our readers.
+
+"I reproach myself," concluded Simon, "for having so long concealed my
+name from you. I have not seen my father since I was a boy. I am
+indebted to him for a few years of happiness, but he was under the
+influence of others who awakened in him the pride of race. He has
+forgotten the Republican soldier, and has never cared to know whether I
+lived or died, since the day that he offered me a princely fortune, rank
+and title, to fight against France. But to return to this man, you are
+sure he is the friend and accomplice of Talizac?"
+
+"I am sure."
+
+"I have never seen my brother, but I know him to be one of the bitterest
+enemies France has. He has fought against us, and I have heard that he
+is nearly ruined. Painful as such suspicions are, I am tempted to
+believe that the appearance of this Karlstein in this out of the way
+place, is due to the fact that this renegade brother of mine has hunted
+me up, knowing that at my father's death I can claim my inheritance. I
+feel as if we were the cause of this attack on Leigoutte, which is
+really directed on the heir of the Fongereueses."
+
+"Horrible!" murmured Francoise.
+
+"Yes, this officer asked me if this inn belonged to me. Dear wife, it is
+now doubly our duty to take every measure for the protection of these
+people. You must take the children away. I must remain with these
+peasants. I wish you to go to the farm of old Father Lasvene--"
+
+"Yes, I know, a league away, in the Outremont gorge."
+
+"I will take you there. Lasvene is a man of sense, and will not be
+guilty of any imprudence."
+
+Suddenly Francinette, who was looking out of a window, uttered a shrill
+cry, and ran to her mother.
+
+"What is it?" exclaimed Simon, rushing to the window, which he threw
+open, but could see nothing.
+
+Francoise soothed the little girl and questioned her.
+
+The child, still wild with fear, pointed to the window. "A man! a bad
+man!"
+
+The father lifted her in his arms.
+
+"No, no," he said, "little Francinette was dreaming. There was no one
+there!"
+
+"Yes, I saw him; he climbed over the wall!"
+
+Simon took his gun and went out. Presently he returned, and with a look
+towards his wife that contradicted his words, he said, "No, it is
+nothing."
+
+At the same time he wrote a few words on a bit of paper, and laid it on
+the table near his wife. This is what she read:
+
+"The child is right; there are footprints on the wall--a spy
+undoubtedly." He said aloud: "And now, wife, make haste; there is no
+time to lose. Francinette, go to the other window and see if your
+brother is anywhere about. And Francoise," Simon continued rapidly, "I
+do not think that our separation will last long, yet it is well to be
+prepared for everything. All my secret and family papers are in this
+portfolio. Take every care of it. And now, kiss me--let no one see you
+weep!"
+
+Michel and Jacques now entered.
+
+"Well, Michel, what think you of our recruits?" asked Simon, cheerfully.
+
+"Oh, they are born soldiers, and your boy Jacques is as bright as a
+button!"
+
+Simon drew his child toward him.
+
+"My boy, I meant to take your mother and sister to some place of safety,
+but I am needed here. You must go in my stead."
+
+"Am I not to remain with you, father?" asked the boy, greatly
+disappointed.
+
+"No--you are to take care of all that is most precious to me in the
+world. God bless you all!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX.
+
+WHERE THE INVASION PASSES.
+
+
+Never was there solitude more complete and more magnificent than at five
+o'clock that January morning among the Vosges mountains. The snow was
+piled up, softening the rugged outlines of the mountain peaks and
+through the pale darkness dim shadows were silently moving. These
+shadows are the brave mountaineers, who have come to defend France at
+the summons of Simon, who, in spite of his wooden leg, displayed immense
+activity. Among these there were no youths. The conscription had long
+since swallowed them up. They were elderly men and boys. Two of them
+were but fourteen, but they were vigorous and determined.
+
+"We have arrived in time," said Simon, "but you are sure that there is
+no other road by which they can reach the village?"
+
+"Only the one by which the wagon came with the wounded, but that, too,
+is well guarded."
+
+"Yes," answered Simon, "a few brave fellows could keep an army back
+there, and you know we are continually receiving reinforcements. As soon
+as they understand that the gorge is impracticable, they will give up
+the point, and we shall feel that we have rendered effectual aid to
+France."
+
+In the souls of these patriots there was a singular instinct of
+discipline. They listened in silence to Simon's words, and obeyed him
+whom they had taken for their leader without question or argument.
+
+Simon called two men and bade them climb the high rocks on one side of
+the gorge. From thence they could look down the whole valley. The mists
+of the night had slowly drifted away, and the wind had died out. A gleam
+of sunshine, as pale as moonlight, rested on the mountain top.
+
+The mountaineers waited long on the rocks, whither they had been sent,
+but returned to say that there was not a sound nor a movement.
+
+"Let us go on," said Simon.
+
+The gorge now became so narrow that only three men could move abreast.
+On each side rose high walls.
+
+"Now, then," said Simon, "hide here. Keep your eyes open, and waste no
+ammunition. And you others will pass through that cleft which commands
+the lower road. Conceal yourselves well, and as soon as a Cossack
+appears, fire. Hans!"
+
+A peasant ran at the sound of his name.
+
+"If you hear firing from either of these posts, you are to advance at
+once with twenty men. Select them now, so that there will be no
+confusion."
+
+Michel listened to these orders in silence.
+
+"Well, comrade," said Simon, "what do you think of my arrangements?"
+
+"They are excellent, and you ought to be a general."
+
+"I could serve only the Republic," answered Simon, "I resigned in
+1804."
+
+Michel looked at him as if he did not more than half understand, then he
+muttered, reluctantly:
+
+"Well, every man is entitled to his opinions."
+
+"Now that our arrangements are made, we two will go on," said Simon.
+
+They walked for some five minutes and reached the entrance of the gorge.
+There the road suddenly widened, and gently descended to the valley. On
+the left there was an enormous rock forty feet high. It was shaped like
+a pyramid standing on its apex. Simon went round it, feeling with his
+hands, tearing off bits of moss from time to time.
+
+"Ah! we have it. Here, Michel, dig out this place with your bayonet!"
+
+Michel obeyed, though without the smallest idea of what was to be done,
+and soon a hole of about a square foot was discovered.
+
+"Now," said Simon, triumphantly, "I defy the Cossacks to pass this
+point!"
+
+He laid on the ground a box that he had been carrying over his shoulder
+with great care.
+
+"I have ten pounds of powder here!"
+
+He proceeded to place this box in the hole, which it entirely filled.
+Then he produced a long wick, one end of which he inserted in the box.
+Then he nearly closed the box, leaving it only sufficiently open for the
+wick to burn easily.
+
+"If our guns fail us," said Simon, grimly, "this will soon settle the
+matter!"
+
+At this moment, from out of the woods on the side of the road sprang a
+man, shouting:
+
+"Save me! Save me!"
+
+Simon saw that the fellow was a gipsy, and that he had been wounded.
+
+"Save me!" repeated the gipsy, "they will kill me!"
+
+"Zounds! fellow," cried Michel, "who are you afraid of? I believe you
+are a spy!"
+
+Simon motioned to Michel to be silent, and questioned the man who
+proceeded to say that he and his companions had been seized to act as
+guides through the forest.
+
+"We refused," he said, "because you French had always been good to us.
+Then the soldiers killed one after the other of us as fast as we
+refused, and I ran away. They fired at me, and wounded me in the head.
+Oh! save me!"
+
+Neither Simon nor Michel noticed the almost theatrical exaggeration of
+this fellow's gestures.
+
+"The Cossacks are near?" asked Simon. "How many?"
+
+"About five hundred."
+
+"On this road?"
+
+"Yes. Hark!"
+
+The three men listened, and distinctly heard the smothered footfall of
+horses in the snow.
+
+"They are coming!" said Simon.
+
+The Bohemian crouched against the rock, and hiding his face, shivered
+with fear.
+
+Simon entered the gorge, and carrying his fingers to his lips made a
+noise that sounded like the hoarse caw of a crow. Other signals answered
+this, showing that all were ready.
+
+Simon stood listening. The sounds came nearer and nearer, and,
+presently, some fifty yards away, appeared the Cossacks. They came
+slowly, uneasy at the profound silence. Simon aimed at the leader, fired
+and the Cossack fell. Frightful yells filled the air, but they continued
+to advance.
+
+Then from every rock and tree came a rain of balls, the echoes from the
+granite walls making the invaders suppose that the opposing force was a
+hundred times what it really was.
+
+The Cossacks were ready enough to return the fire, but they saw no
+enemy; not a human being. Still they moved on, closing up their ranks,
+and their horses trampling on the dead bodies of their comrades. They
+reached the gorge. The peasants, sure of their prey, now forgot all
+prudence, and showed themselves. The Cossacks, with cries of rage,
+answered their fusillade. The scene was an absolute butchery.
+
+Suddenly, a man in the uniform of the Helmans waved his sword, and the
+Cossacks pulled up their horses and turned them with inconceivable
+dexterity. This movement showed the length of their column. The gipsy
+was right, there were hundreds.
+
+Simon, at this moment, uttered the exclamation:
+
+"Back with you!" he cried. "To your places among the rocks!"
+
+The mountaineers had seen the Cossacks fall, and all the old hatred that
+had sent their fathers to the Rhine in '92, again sprang to life in
+their veins. They rushed from out their shelter, regardless of danger.
+They heard Simon's voice, but did not understand his order, their rage
+deafened them. They had hitherto been amenable to discipline, but they
+were intoxicated by victory. It seemed to them that they could crush the
+invasion then and there. In vain did Simon shout "Halt!" They went on,
+and reached the rock.
+
+"I don't like this," said Simon. "This retreat of the Cossacks looks
+like a ruse. Our men must go no further."
+
+Then took place a horrible thing. The peasants were trying to crowd
+through the narrow passage by the rock. They were in such haste that
+they formed a struggling mass. Then from the dark corner rose the gipsy
+with the Judas face, and glided to the corner where hung the torch
+arranged by Simon. Presently, there was a little flash of light, and the
+gipsy threw himself far down the slope, just as a fearful explosion was
+heard. The rock split and fell upon the peasants. Of these valiant
+patriots only five remained--seven with Michel and Simon. They all stood
+nailed to the ground with horror.
+
+And back came the Cossacks at full gallop. The rock had cut off all
+retreat. These seven men were between the barred-up gorge and the
+Cossacks.
+
+Michel was the first to fall pierced by a lance. Simon realized that
+these men will reach his home, his wife and children, before he was
+nailed to the trunk of an oak by a Cossack's sword, and now Simon is
+dead!
+
+Over this body of this hero, rolls the horrible flood that is to engulf
+France.
+
+Talizac, Simon's brother, had said that the invasion should take this
+direction!
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X.
+
+THE HUT AT OUTREMONT.
+
+
+How did the Cossacks ever discover that poor little hut sheltered among
+the rocks?
+
+Simon's wife and children reached this place, and said to old Lasvene:
+
+"Simon is fighting for France. Will you give us shelter?"
+
+Lasvene took them in with a simple "yes." They were all very weary.
+Jacques had done all in his power to protect his little sister, who was
+not in the least frightened, only curious.
+
+The old man shook out some fresh straw, gave them each a great bowl of
+smoking soup, and said:
+
+"Everything here is yours, eat and sleep."
+
+And when all was quiet the old man brought out two guns, which he had
+kept in spite of Napoleon's edict. He sat down by the fire, and began to
+clean them.
+
+Suddenly, he felt a hand--a small one--laid on his arm, and a voice
+said,
+
+"What are you doing with your guns? Do you think there is any danger
+here?"
+
+The old man hesitated for a reply, and the boy said,
+
+"Show me how to manage them, it may be useful."
+
+Lasvene hesitated a moment, but finally decided to teach little Jacques
+how to fire these long guns. The boy quickly grasped the movement. When
+he bit his first cartridge he made a wry face. When one is inexperienced
+the powder gets between the teeth.
+
+"Once more," he said, "I am not quite sure yet."
+
+When the clock struck three, Jacques could load the gun like any old
+grenadier, but he had not been permitted to fire it.
+
+"Your mother is asleep and little sister too," the old man said.
+
+Jacques did not persist.
+
+"Now lie down, my boy, and get a little sleep."
+
+At six o'clock in the morning--it was at that hour that Simon died--a
+pistol shot scattered the straw on the roof of the hut.
+
+Lasvene rushed to the door and half opening it, cried:
+
+"The Cossacks!"
+
+He knew them well, for he had been in the campaign of 1805.
+
+Jacques started to his feet, and Francoise, pale as death, clutched her
+little girl to her breast.
+
+"They are only going by," said Lasvene. "They know there is nothing to
+pillage here."
+
+Lasvene believed himself and his guests under his roof to be safe. He,
+therefore, threw open the door wide.
+
+He saw about fifty Cossacks.
+
+"I am not making any defence," he said, "what do you want?"
+
+The old soldier said this reluctantly, for the blood leaped hot in his
+veins, but he had a woman and two children there.
+
+The Cossacks sat still on their horses, and seemed to be waiting. For
+what were they waiting?
+
+Suddenly and most incomprehensibly, from behind old Lasvene came two
+shots. Two Cossacks fell. Who had fired? He ran back into the hut.
+Jacques stood near the chimney, looking at the guns which he had not
+fired. Who had?
+
+These shots were answered by a furious clamor. A volley was fired into
+the cottage. Lasvene ran to the other side of the hut, and saw two men
+running away. It was these men who fired. Both were dressed like
+gipsies, but one was Cyprien, the lacquey of Monsieur de Talizac.
+
+"We are lost!" thought Lasvene.
+
+Instantly he pulled across the door his old oaken chest, and piled
+chairs and tables upon it, the bed, everything that was movable in the
+hut. Then, snatching one gun, he said:
+
+"We must fight. Take the other!"
+
+The Cossacks were amazed, but they fired through the window.
+
+"Now!" cried Lasvene, and an officer fell. Jacques handed him the other
+gun, and loaded the first.
+
+Again a Cossack fell.
+
+Francoise rushed to the old man's side.
+
+"Save the children!" she cried.
+
+"At the peril of your life?" he asked.
+
+"Yes," was the reply of the devoted mother.
+
+"Then take the other gun!"
+
+Francoise obeyed.
+
+"Come!" said the old man to Jacques.
+
+"No," answered the boy, "they will kill mamma!"
+
+"For Simon's sake!" cried Francoise.
+
+Then Lasvene stooped to the ground, and with the aid of an iron ring
+lifted a trap door.
+
+"Down with you!" said the old man. "It is a subterranean passage, and
+leads to the Fongereues estate. You have a league to go. God guard you!"
+
+Another deafening discharge of musketry. The mother sank on her knees.
+
+"Save Francinette!" she moaned.
+
+"They have killed my mother!" sobbed the boy.
+
+"Go!" cried Lasvene, "they are coming in!"
+
+He seized the little girl and put her in her brother's arms, and
+thrusting a pistol into the hands of the little fellow, he pushed him
+toward the trap door.
+
+"Mother! Mother!" cried the boy.
+
+There was no time to lose. Lasvene lifted him by the collar and dropped
+him into the dark hole, and closed the cover. Francoise extended her
+arms to the old man. "Thanks!" she said.
+
+"We are caught like rats in a hole!" he growled.
+
+The Cossacks began to tear down the walls.
+
+"Can you walk?" said the old soldier to Francoise.
+
+"No!"
+
+"Then you must die!"
+
+"Will the children be saved?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Then do what you will!"
+
+Lasvene snatched a burning log from the fire and threw it into the
+middle of a pile of brushwood.
+
+"Fan it!" he whispered hoarsely.
+
+And Francoise dragged herself forward and fanned the flames with her
+dying breath.
+
+"Brave woman!" cried Lasvene. "And now, welcome death! Vive la France!"
+
+He poured his flask of powder on the floor. There was a terrible
+explosion.
+
+Francoise and old Lasvene have done their duty ere they died. The walls
+of the hut fall, and hide the trap door.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI.
+
+CHILDREN IN DARKNESS.
+
+
+The trap door closed on the two children, leaving them in total
+darkness. Lasvene had not thought of that.
+
+The boy hesitated. His mother had bidden him save Francinette--here was
+safety, even if there were also darkness. He kissed his little sister
+tenderly.
+
+"Can you walk, dear?" he said.
+
+"No--I am afraid!"
+
+Jacques remembered that he was ten, and that Francinette, who was only
+six, had a right to be afraid.
+
+"Afraid!" he repeated, "what is there to fear? I am not afraid!"
+
+He was not speaking the truth, but he had a vague idea that it was not
+wrong to tell a falsehood on this occasion. He placed Francinette on the
+ground, and she clung to his legs. He passed his hand over the wall, and
+they slowly crept on. The ground was slippery and the air foul. Suddenly
+Jacques tripped and fell. The little girl began to cry. Her brother had
+lost his hold on the wall, and when he gathered himself up, he missed
+the touch of those little hands.
+
+"Cinette! Cinette!" he cried.
+
+She replied with sobs, and he suddenly realized that these sobs were
+becoming fainter and fainter. Where was she?
+
+"Cinette! stand still."
+
+The voice replied:
+
+"Jacques! Oh! mamma! I want mamma!"
+
+It was plain that the child was lost, and that several paths ran from
+the point where he stood. He called to his sister again--no reply. He
+began to run, and came up against the wall. He started again, then
+stopped. He saw a red light at the end of a long gallery. This light
+came from the funeral pyre of Francoise and the old man.
+
+The boy smiled--he fancied that aid was coming. He called: "Mamma!
+Mamma!" Suddenly his hurrying feet encountered an obstacle, and he fell
+from a height. His head struck a rock, and he felt the blood stream over
+his face. Then he fainted.
+
+How long he lay there he never knew. After a while he struggled to his
+feet, and then hurried on, always away from the red light, not toward
+it. Suddenly he felt the air strike his face, and he saw the sunshine.
+The subterranean passage ended. He emerged upon a plain. An old chateau
+stood on the brow of a hill opposite.
+
+"If I go there," he said to himself, "I can find people who will look
+for Francinette with me."
+
+He tried to run; his foot slipped. He looked down and beheld a pool of
+blood. A dead body lay near, and then another, and another--death and
+slaughter everywhere!
+
+These were French soldiers who had been surprised and shot. Three guns
+were fastened together, holding a pot over a fire not yet entirely gone
+out.
+
+Jacques was now wild with terror; he wished he were back in the darkness
+of the subterranean passage, but still he struggled on for his little
+sister's sake. Suddenly he started. Around the neck of a soldier he saw
+a cord to which hung a bugle. Jacques made his way to the body. He
+extended his arm, then pulled it back, but impelled by the hope of
+safety, he at last succeeded in reaching the bugle without touching the
+body, but he could not take it away because of the cord. Then Jacques
+closed his eyes, and supporting himself on one hand, he placed his lips
+to the mouth of the bugle. His face was very near that of the dead
+soldier. He remembered the lessons he had received from Simon.
+
+"Tarara! Tarara!"
+
+The sound came rich and full, but the exertion had been too great.
+
+Jacques fainted, and his pale face lay on the stiff, outstretched arm of
+the dead soldier.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII.
+
+THE RISING SUN.
+
+
+That morning the worthy Schwann, whose ancestors had kept the inn known
+as the Rising Sun for one hundred and fifty years, said that in all his
+experience he had never been so busy. Three travelers, three guests in
+February! It was most amazing. And the worthy innkeeper knew that this
+was not all. Six more strangers might arrive at any moment; but when he
+was asked who these strangers were, he winked mysteriously, but looked
+highly pleased. At the hour when this chapter opens, Master Schwann had
+just witnessed a veritable slaughter in his poultry yard; pots and
+saucepans were smoking on the fire, and vigorous preparations were made
+in the kitchen.
+
+The door was suddenly thrown open, and loud laughter made the windows
+rattle. The innkeeper started, but before he could speak, he was lifted
+off his feet by the long arms of a vigorous looking young man, with a
+most enormous mouth. His costume was something wonderful; a startling
+combination of colors; a red coat, a yellow vest trimmed with huge black
+buttons, green breeches and long black hose.
+
+"Iron Jaws!" cried the innkeeper, struggling in the grasp of the
+Colossus.
+
+"Yes, my best beloved cousin, Iron Jaws it is; let me give you a good
+shake of the hand."
+
+"Not too hard!" said Schwann, plaintively.
+
+"You are not glad to see your old friend, then?"
+
+"Not so; but you are so strong that you hurt people without knowing it.
+But where are all the rest of you?"
+
+"Oh! they are coming on. I did not want to hurry Brelion and Bechette."
+
+"What! Have you those two animals yet?"
+
+"To be sure. Why not? They don't look their age."
+
+"And your wife?"
+
+Gudel, or Iron Jaws, as he was called, hesitated a moment.
+
+"Things are going smoothly there, I hope," said the innkeeper, with a
+wink.
+
+"Well! We will talk of something else, if you please!"
+
+"Oh! women, women! you have much to answer for!" sighed the innkeeper.
+
+"I was happy enough with my first wife, though, and Caillette is her
+very image."
+
+"She must be a big girl, now, it is five years since I saw her."
+
+"And she is nearly sixteen. An angel without wings!"
+
+"How does she get on with your wife?"
+
+"Oh! Roulante can't endure her!"
+
+Schwann shook his head.
+
+"Ah! my lad, you made a great mistake. I felt it when you told me that
+you were about to marry the giantess. She had something about her eyes I
+didn't like. She doesn't ill-treat Caillette, I hope?"
+
+"Not if I know it!" answered Gudel, clenching his enormous fist. "Just
+let her lay a finger on the girl, that is all!"
+
+"You need not get so excited. And now about Bobichel--how is he?"
+
+"Just the same as ever, honest and stupid."
+
+"And Robeccal?"
+
+"I mean to get rid of him for reasons of my own."
+
+"And the little boy?"
+
+Gudel shouted with laughter.
+
+"The little boy! Just wait until you see him. He is six feet, and a
+treasure. I am strong, but Fanfar is different from me. He has wrists
+and ankles like a woman, with the hands of a Duchess, but his back and
+shoulders are iron and his fingers steel. He is, moreover, as good and
+gentle as possible."
+
+"You love him as much as ever, I see."
+
+The excellent Gudel opened his mouth to speak, when with loud fife and
+horn, the wagon that held all his worldly possessions rattled up to the
+door.
+
+We will call the vehicle a chariot, as it is more complimentary than the
+title of wagon. Four huge wheels held the body of this vehicle, from
+which rose posts striped like barbers' poles, decorated with
+parti-colored curtains.
+
+Underneath the chariot hung all sorts of queer looking things--kegs of
+wine, rope, ladders, baskets, and hoops with torn covers of rose colored
+tissue paper.
+
+Bobichel must be mentioned first, as he stands on one of the shafts and
+blows a long horn. The clown is dressed all in yellow with a gray hat.
+His legs looked like matches in their striped hose. His head was small
+and pointed, his nose very long and very sharp.
+
+Behind Bobichel sits Caillette, Gudel's daughter, a pretty, dainty
+creature with light hair. She turned with a merry laugh to say something
+to a third person, who lay on a pile of bundles of all shapes and sizes,
+and smiled back upon the young girl. Still further back was a huge mass
+which might be supposed to be a woman, from the tawny locks that floated
+over the shoulders, and if out of curiosity one examined more closely, a
+large face with pendant cheeks was discovered, a retreating forehead, a
+pair of small, half closed eyes. A double, or rather a triple chin,
+rested on an enormous bosom, which seemed to have torn half the buttons
+from a much spotted cloth waist. This charming being was known as La
+Roulante, in which sobriquet was lost her real name of Charlotte Magnan.
+She was also the lawful wife of Gudel.
+
+And finally, to complete this hurried description, we must mention a
+person who followed the chariot on foot. He was short, slender and bow
+legged, very pale, and had light eyes without lashes. His scanty hair,
+as white as an albino's, escaped from a vizorless hat. His costume was
+much like his appearance; a well worn velvet coat, much too short in the
+sleeves, and long fingered hands, with one peculiarity, that the thumbs
+were as long as the fore fingers.
+
+"Ah! you have come, children, have you?" cried Gudel. "And I am
+thankful, for hunger gnaws my vitals."
+
+"And mine, too," Bobichel replied, throwing a somersault as he spoke;
+which he ended with a sudden leap on the shoulders of the good Schwann,
+who stood the shock with wonderful philosophy.
+
+But at the third shout he decided to go outside. When the giantess saw
+him, she called out, angrily:
+
+"Are you coming to help me?"
+
+Gudel looked on with concentrated rage, and as Robeccal went toward the
+chariot, he said to him:
+
+"Not another step!"
+
+"Indeed! And who will prevent me?"
+
+Gudel's eyes flashed.
+
+"Scoundrel!" he muttered under his breath.
+
+"Well! are you coming?" called La Roulante. "Give him a push and come
+on!"
+
+These words encouraged the fellow, but as he moved toward the chariot
+Iron Jaws struck him a tremendous blow in the chest. Robeccal pulled out
+a knife and leaped on Gudel, but was caught by Fanfar and tossed in the
+air as if he had been a ball. The fellow landed nearly at the side of
+the giantess, who tumbled herself off the chariot and rushed upon
+Fanfar. Schwann appeared at the door at this moment.
+
+"Dinner is ready, good people," he said, soothingly.
+
+Robeccal said a few words in a whisper to the giantess, who shrugged her
+huge shoulders and made at once to the dining-room. Gudel held out his
+arms to his daughter.
+
+"Jump, child!" he said.
+
+And the girl obeyed. The father kissed her tenderly, for the two loved
+each other very much.
+
+"Do you mean to stay there forever, Fanfar?" was Gudel's next remark.
+
+Fanfar was the person to whom Caillette had addressed her smiles. With a
+laugh he swung himself down, and hung by his wrists a moment.
+
+"Good boy!" said Gudel. "You mean to keep yourself in practice, I see."
+
+Robeccal, with his hands in his pockets, lounged into the kitchen, and
+stood watching the preparations for dinner. La Roulante sat as
+motionless as the Sphynx in the Desert. Gudel said to her, respectfully:
+
+"Are you coming?"
+
+The woman turned her eyes slowly upon him, and then, with a sniff of
+disdain, called for Robeccal, who heard the stentorian shout, but did
+not care to be disturbed in his contemplation of the spit on which the
+fowls were roasting.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII.
+
+MISCHIEF.
+
+
+While these people were repairing the fatigues of their journey, a door
+opened very softly at the end of the room. But Schwann heard it. This
+door had access to the stairs which led to the upper floor. He instantly
+hastened toward the person, who stood half concealed.
+
+This man was about forty, small, and wearing a brown cloth coat, braided
+and trimmed with Astrachan. His vest was blue, as was a neckerchief. He
+wore straps and spurs--a costume, in fact, in the last mode of 1825--and
+yet, no human being looked less like a dandy. His feet were huge, his
+hands ugly and bony. His face expressed timidity and hypocrisy. He took
+off his hat as Schwann approached. The stranger's eyes were half closed,
+as if the light from the long windows pained them--in reality, he was
+examining each face at the table.
+
+"You want breakfast, sir, I presume?" asked the innkeeper.
+
+"Yes," said the other, "yes, yes," but he did not seem to have
+understood the question, although he took a seat at one of the tables.
+
+"Give me some brandy!" he said. "I am expecting some one, and when he
+comes you will serve our breakfast up-stairs."
+
+"Very good, sir!" And Schwann walked away. "He is the intendant of some
+great lord, I fancy," he said to himself.
+
+Again the door opened, and two more customers appeared. One looked like
+a horse jockey, the other, though in citizen's dress, was without doubt
+an old soldier. His heavy gray moustache imparted a certain harshness to
+his expression, though his eyes were frank and honest.
+
+"Where shall I serve your breakfast, gentlemen?" asked the innkeeper.
+
+There was a little hesitation. The last arrivals noticed the man in the
+brown braided coat, and did not seem to like his appearance. It was
+plain that some mysterious tie existed among these travelers, however,
+for Iron Jaws, hearing the voices of the new-comers, looked up and
+exchanged a rapid glance with them.
+
+"We will eat there," said one of the two men, pointing to a table at
+some distance from the man in brown, who smiled slightly as he saw the
+gesture. He himself had been in the meantime supplied with a decanter of
+brandy, and now took some newspapers from his pocket, one of which he
+began to read, holding it in such a way that he was concealed from the
+observation of every one in the room.
+
+When Schwann brought in a delicious-looking omelette, the horse jockey
+said, in a loud voice:
+
+"Is Remisemont far from here?"
+
+"Remisemont! Ah! gentlemen, it is plain that you do not belong in these
+parts. It is not more than two leagues away."
+
+"Then we can easily get there this afternoon?"
+
+Schwann saw that he had made a blunder, and endeavored to retrieve it.
+
+"We had better call it three leagues, and the road is a bad one, and you
+have to ford the river. There has been a great deal of rain, and two men
+were drowned there last year; and, by the way, they looked much like
+you."
+
+"Many thanks!" And the old soldier laughed.
+
+"They didn't know the road, you see----"
+
+"But you can furnish us with a guide?"
+
+"Yes, but not to-day."
+
+"And why not?"
+
+"Because I am alone in the house."
+
+The mountebanks had by this time finished their meal. Gudel came toward
+the two men.
+
+"If these gentlemen desire it," he said, politely, "I will take them on
+early to-morrow morning in my wagon."
+
+"That is an excellent idea!" cried the innkeeper. "With Iron Jaws there
+is no danger."
+
+The strange costume worn by Gudel, and the equally strange name by which
+Schwann called him, did not seem to amaze the two strangers. They
+consulted each other with a look, and then courteously accepted the
+offer.
+
+"I give a little representation here to-night," Gudel continued, "and
+start at an early hour for Remisemont."
+
+Nothing could have been more natural than this scene, nor that Gudel
+should have accepted the brandy and water offered him, and it would have
+been a very distrustful nature that would have suspected any secret
+understanding between Gudel and the two men with whom he was now
+drinking. Nevertheless, the man behind the newspaper, who had not lost a
+word of this dialogue, smiled until he showed every tooth in his head.
+
+The giantess and Robeccal left the room together. After a few words
+together, Robeccal returned, and asked Gudel if he wanted him again, and
+when his employer said no, that he was at liberty, he once more left the
+room. The man behind the newspaper did the same, and the two met in the
+passage.
+
+"One word, if you please," said the man in the brown coat. "Answer me
+frankly, and you shall have twenty francs. Who is Iron Jaws?"
+
+"A mountebank."
+
+"He has another name?"
+
+"Yes--Gudel."
+
+"Do you know the two men with whom he is talking?"
+
+"No."
+
+"You hate him?"
+
+"What is that to you?"
+
+"A good deal, and to you, too, if you wish him any harm. You are a
+member of his troupe?"
+
+"Not for long, you had better believe!"
+
+"Long enough to earn a few louis?"
+
+"What do you want done?"
+
+"I will tell you. If you hate this Gudel I will give you an opportunity
+to pay off your score, and I will pay you at the same time."
+
+"That is nonsense!"
+
+"All right. I am in no hurry. I can wait an hour or two."
+
+The man took a louis from his pocket and dropped it on the ground.
+Robeccal put his foot upon it. During this brief colloquy the two men
+had not looked at each other. The stranger lounged away, indifferent to
+all appearance, and Robeccal picked up the gold and disappeared in a
+different direction.
+
+Meanwhile, Gudel was talking in a low voice to his apparently new
+acquaintances. Schwann had returned to his saucepans.
+
+"Well?" said the soldier, leaning over his glass as if to smell the
+wine.
+
+"All goes well," answered Gudel. "The grain was well sown--the harvest
+waits."
+
+"We will talk elsewhere. Did you notice that fellow who sat reading over
+there in the corner?"
+
+"Yes--a bad face. A lacquey, I think."
+
+"A lacquey or a spy. Look out for him! Now, when and where can I see you
+quietly?"
+
+"To-night, after the representation, in my room or yours."
+
+"In yours, then. We will wait until the house is quiet. Leave your door
+open. And now, be careful that no one suspects our presence here!"
+
+"What! not even Fanfar? You need not distrust him. He is good, brave,
+and devoted to you."
+
+"We will talk of that later on." In a louder voice he said: "Then,
+comrade, we will accept your offer, and go with you to Remisemont
+to-morrow."
+
+Gudel nodded, then called Fanfar.
+
+"To work, my lad," he cried. "We must stir up these excellent people in
+this village. Schwann, where is my permit from the mayor?"
+
+Schwann hurried in wiping his hands, and from under a pile of plates he
+drew out a paper.
+
+"Fanfar, sign it for me, your hand is better than mine, for the truth is
+I never learned to write. And now this is done, we must go forth and
+warn the people of the great pleasure in store for them."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV.
+
+TWO PLACES, S. V. P.
+
+
+In five minutes all the population of Saint Ame was on the Square, for
+in these Lorraine villages amusements are rare. They were watching the
+erection of an enormous shed covered with canvas and strange pictures.
+An enormous handbill with letters that could be read a hundred feet off,
+bore most astonishing inscriptions. At the top was Iron Jaws, who held
+enormous weights with his teeth. The Giantess, who ate raw pigeons, or
+any other fowl that was most convenient. The wonderful Almanzor (that
+was Robeccal,) a descendant of the Moors of Spain, crushed glass with
+his teeth and swallowed swords. Then there was Caillette, the
+rope-dancer, who charmed the world with her voice, as well as with her
+aerial lightness. And lastly, in letters of the same length as those
+which Gudel used for himself, came Fanfar's name.
+
+  "FANFAR! FANFAR! FANFAR!
+
+  "STRENGTH, SKILL, DEXTERITY.
+
+  "He knows everything. He can do everything!"
+
+And finally, there was a representation of a human pyramid, at the top
+of which was Caillette, all smiles, and a flower in her hand.
+
+The good peasants were naturally delighted with all this.
+
+Iron Jaws, with his hands in his pockets, was marching up and down,
+giving his orders like a general at the head of an army. Suddenly he
+called,
+
+"Bobichel!"
+
+Between two pictures, one of which was a lion devouring a crocodile,
+appeared the clown's head, grinning from ear to ear. He was so utterly
+grotesque that the crowd shrieked with laughter.
+
+Bobichel's name did not appear on the handbill. It had been omitted to
+leave more room for that of his friend Fanfar, and Gudel had called him
+to introduce him, so to speak, to the crowd.
+
+Fanfar and Caillette were alone. He was trying the ropes of the trapeze,
+while she was giving some finishing touches to the interior decoration.
+Suddenly, she stopped and looked up at Fanfar, who was swinging from a
+wooden bar. An artist would have been struck with the beauty of his
+figure.
+
+Caillette watched him breathlessly as he went through his exercises, and
+as he dropped at last on the floor, so lightly that his feet scarcely
+left their imprint, she threw both arms around his neck.
+
+"How bad you are!" she cried, "you frighten me half out of my wits."
+
+"Frighten you, child! Are you not yet accustomed to my exercises, little
+sister?"
+
+Caillette colored, and half turned away.
+
+"Why do you call me little sister?" she said.
+
+Fanfar dropped her hands, which he had taken from his neck. A cloud
+passed swiftly over his brow.
+
+"Because we have been brought up together," he answered, slowly. "You
+were not more than six years old when your father took me into his
+service. But does it vex you for me to call you sister?"
+
+"No, it does not vex me, but I would rather you did not."
+
+Fanfar understood her, and was disturbed. He had long since seen in the
+girl a growing passion for himself. Her innocence and purity were
+exquisite, but at the same time she loved Fanfar. He did not love her.
+He would have given his life for her, but he did not wish to spend it
+with her, and at the thought of Caillette as his wife he drew back. He
+now disengaged himself gently from her clinging arms.
+
+"To work!" he said, "it is growing late."
+
+Caillette took up her needle, as the door opened to admit Gudel. He was
+not alone, two ladies of aristocratic bearing were with him.
+
+"But, my dear Irene, this is a strange caprice," said the elder of the
+two. "What will the Countess say?"
+
+"My dear Madame Ursula, it would oblige me if you would cease your
+moans, that is, unless you should prefer to return to the chateau
+alone!"
+
+The dear Madame Ursula was a tall, thin woman, wearing blue glasses. She
+was evidently a companion or governess.
+
+Irene, in her riding-habit, looked about twenty. Her hair was jet black,
+and curled over a marble white brow. Her hat, Louis XIII. in shape, with
+curling plumes, gave a haughty expression to her dainty features. She
+looked as if she might have stepped from out the frame of one of the
+pictures of Velasquez. Her beauty was striking. Fanfar grasped it,
+Caillette studied it.
+
+"Pray tell me," said the young lady to Gudel, "if you have no seats
+where I can avoid contact with the crowd? I am ready to pay any sum you
+ask."
+
+"Oh! we have but one price, ten sous."
+
+The governess uttered a small gasp, and the young girl shrugged her
+shoulders impatiently.
+
+She drew out a handful of gold pieces from her bag.
+
+"Take these," she said, "and do the best you can for me."
+
+Gudel was puzzled and troubled.
+
+"Fanfar!" he called, "have you time to construct a sort of private box
+for these ladies?"
+
+Fanfar advanced, and when Caillette saw the admiring gaze he riveted on
+the stranger, she clenched her little hands.
+
+"I don't think I quite understand," he said.
+
+Irene replied:
+
+"It is a very simple matter. I desire to be present at your exhibition,
+and I do not care to mingle with the vulgar herd."
+
+Fanfar listened to these words very coldly, and then said:
+
+"What you ask is impossible."
+
+"I don't know about that," interposed Gudel, quickly. "I think a private
+box could be quickly made with a few boards--"
+
+"Only I refuse to make it," said Fanfar.
+
+"You refuse?"
+
+Irene started. Caillette smiled and blushed.
+
+"And may I know why?" asked the stranger, with a disdainful smile. "Why
+does----" She hesitated for the name. Fanfar supplied it. "Why does
+Monsieur Fanfar refuse to gain a few louis for his master?"
+
+"Not his master," said Gudel, hastily.
+
+"Let me speak," interrupted Fanfar. "I will explain to the lady. Our
+public are bourgeois and common folk who support us, and bring us
+success. Their hands are large, but they applaud well. They are good
+people, and I do not wish to humiliate them. To do what you ask would
+wound them deeply."
+
+Irene listened, with a frown.
+
+Gudel retreated to the background where he indulged in a silent laugh.
+
+Fanfar waited, calmly.
+
+"This is a lesson you read me?" she said, at last.
+
+"No, Mademoiselle, it is only advice. Make yourself beloved by these
+peasants. I have much to do, and pray that you will excuse me."
+
+He bowed, and was about to retire.
+
+"Monsieur Fanfar," said Irene, "you are right, and I thank you."
+
+Then, turning to Gudel, she asked him with bewitching grace to retain
+two seats for her.
+
+"Certainly, and the best. Will we not, Fanfar?"
+
+The young man met Irene's eyes, and started.
+
+"Will you give these few louis to the poor?" added Irene, "and I will
+accept two seats gratefully."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV.
+
+MASTER AND SERVANT.
+
+
+When the young girl, followed by Madame Ursula, who was choking with
+rage, emerged upon the Square, all the peasants lifted their hats.
+
+"There is the carriage!" said Ursula.
+
+A lacquey in livery approached, leading a fine English horse. Irene
+arrested the animal.
+
+"Do you intend to mount again? I thought," said Madame Ursula, "that you
+had promised to return in the carriage with me."
+
+But Irene was already in her saddle.
+
+The governess continued:
+
+"The Comtesse expected--"
+
+"Never mind that! And now, John, to the Chateau at once," said Irene,
+galloping off.
+
+"Who is that lady?" asked Bobichel.
+
+"Mademoiselle de Salves," a peasant replied, "the wealthiest heiress in
+the neighborhood."
+
+"A handsome girl!" muttered Bobichel.
+
+"She is too haughty to those beneath her," said some one.
+
+"She is made of Paris stuff," said another. "She's not calculated for
+our village."
+
+A new incident now occurred.
+
+A post-chaise, drawn by vigorous horses, now dashed into the Square,
+and drew up before Master Schwann's inn.
+
+Before the worthy innkeeper could come down the steps to welcome the new
+arrival, another person had dashed past him. This was the man, who,
+sheltered by his newspaper, had so closely watched all that was going on
+around him.
+
+"Monsieur le Marquis," he said, presenting his arm to the gentleman in
+the post-chaise, "I see my letter reached you in time."
+
+The new arrival is not unknown to our readers; it was he who, earlier in
+our tale, was known as the Vicomte de Talizac, and who to-day, by the
+death of the old Marquis, had been invested with all the titles of the
+Fongereues family.
+
+Ten years had elapsed since we last saw him, and though hardly forty, he
+seems an old man--his figure is bent and his stern face covered with
+wrinkles.
+
+The man who was waiting for him had long been his accomplice; together
+they had concocted the criminal plan to which Simon fell a victim, and
+as a reward for his villainy, Cyprien had been made intendant instead of
+valet.
+
+The Marquis entered the inn and looked around suspiciously, but saw no
+one but Schwann, who stood hat in hand; he did not advance, as the frown
+of the Marquis was far from encouraging.
+
+"Serve dinner in my room," said Cyprien, and he showed the silent
+Marquis up-stairs.
+
+When Schwann had laid the table and placed the dinner upon it, Cyprien
+took him aside.
+
+"You need not come up again, unless I call you."
+
+"Very good, sir."
+
+"And this is not all; please do not gossip about my master. If any one
+questions you, make no reply."
+
+"What could I say?" asked Schwann. "I know nothing!"
+
+"You might indulge in suppositions, which I advise you to avoid."
+
+"Zounds!" muttered Schwann, as he descended the stairs, "all these airs
+displease me! I very much prefer my rope dancers to this great lord!"
+
+Cyprien looked up and down the corridor, and listened at the doors of
+the next rooms, to ascertain that they were empty.
+
+The Marquis, in the meantime, had thrown his hat and cloak on the bed.
+
+"We are alone?" he asked impatiently.
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+"Speak, then. Your letter told me that you have found traces of that
+miserable Labarre."
+
+"Yes, sir, and I trust you will be satisfied with what I have done."
+
+"Did you see the man?"
+
+"No, sir. Your instructions were to avoid all contact with him. I know,
+however, where to lay my hands on him."
+
+"You have done well. I wish my presence here to be like a thunderclap to
+him. And then I expect that in his terror he will make the avowal which
+will be my salvation."
+
+"May I ask, sir, if your affairs have in any way ameliorated since my
+departure?"
+
+"Ameliorated!" Fongereues repeated with an angry gesture, "no, quite the
+contrary. Ruin is approaching with rapid strides, and in a few months I
+shall be lost!"
+
+"But the favor of His Majesty--"
+
+Fongereues laughed bitterly. "His Majesty cares little for me. Ever
+since I was unfortunate enough to displease his fair friend, the tide
+has turned."
+
+"But can nothing be done?"
+
+Fongereues shrugged his shoulders. "What is the use? I am sick of
+manoeuvering and intriguing. I have told the king that his faithful
+emigres should be his best counsellors, and that it was his duty as well
+as his interest to rely on me. But it was of no use.
+
+"They think they have paid us," the Marquis continued, "because they
+have thrown us, as food to the dogs, a few louis of indemnity. As if
+France were not ours, as if we had no rights over these people who have
+assassinated their king and kissed the feet of an adventurer; but they
+are afraid, and talk of patience. I told His Majesty, one day, of my
+embarrassments. 'Sir,' he said to me, 'a Fongereues never begs!' and the
+next day I received four thousand louis. Confound the nonsense!"
+
+Cyprien could not refrain from a smile. Four thousand louis did not seem
+to him a trifle, nor nonsense.
+
+"But His Majesty is interested in your son."
+
+"My son! These Puritans have much to say about my son. He gambles and he
+does other shocking things. One would think, to hear them talk, that
+they were themselves paragons of virtue. As soon as the Vicomte marries
+and settles down--by the way, what about Mademoiselle de Salves?"
+
+"I only arrived last night, and have simply learned that their chateau
+is not more than two leagues away, and that they must soon leave it to
+return to Paris."
+
+"Four millions!" cried the Marquis. "And to think that this fortune may
+escape us!"
+
+"The marriage is not yet decided, then?"
+
+"Not precisely; and the smallest incident may ruin my plans. This
+Labarre must be made to speak, even if violence be necessary."
+
+"He is an incorruptible old fellow, and these honest people are
+sometimes very hard to deal with."
+
+The Marquis looked at him intently for a minute or two in silence, and
+then, with an indescribable smile, said:
+
+"I think we can manage him, nevertheless!"
+
+Cyprien smiled.
+
+"You know, beside," continued the Marquis, "that I am not ungrateful.
+Let this Labarre surrender this secret and my son become the husband of
+young Irene de Salves, and my position becomes stronger than ever. And
+you may be certain that I shall not forget you!"
+
+"I hope, sir, that it may be soon in my power to render you a most
+important service."
+
+"What may that be?"
+
+"You are aware, I presume, that I take great interest in the
+preservation of the present _regime_?"
+
+"I was not aware of that," the Marquis said, with a slight elevation of
+the eyebrows. It seemed to him that the opinions of Monsieur Cyprien
+were of little importance, and that the government was not likely to
+benefit by his sympathy and protection.
+
+"The fact is, sir, your future and that of the monarchy are too nearly
+allied for me to separate the two questions."
+
+"You are right."
+
+"And, in addition, I hold relations with persons who condescend to
+recognize in me a certain ability in the management of confidential
+matters."
+
+"Pshaw! Who are these persons!"
+
+"I will give you the name of one, sir--Monsieur Franchet."
+
+And Cyprien stole a glance at his master, who started in spite of all
+his self-control. This Franchet was at the climax of his celebrity, and
+exercised the mysterious function of Director-General of the Police. He
+owed his elevation solely to the Society of Jesus. This occult power,
+whose ramifications extended all over France, was mysterious and
+tremendous in its workings. No one could expect any favor if he did not
+first render this society most abject homage.
+
+Cyprien now became invested with immense importance in the eyes of the
+Marquis. He was now not only an accomplice, but a protector, who might
+become a formidable adversary.
+
+A brief silence followed this revelation, and then the Marquis bade
+Cyprien go on with what he was saying.
+
+"I was saying, sir, that I have employed all the resources of my weak
+mind in the defence of the sacred interests of the society, and that I
+had the power to replace you in the position which your imprudence has
+forfeited!"
+
+The lacquey was becoming insolent.
+
+"And how will you perform this miracle?" asked the Marquis.
+
+"By including you in the great plan which will prove our zeal for the
+monarchy."
+
+The Marquis frowned. He was not pleased at the association!
+
+Cyprien dropped his voice.
+
+"A vast conspiracy," he said, "is forming to overthrow the king!"
+
+The Marquis started.
+
+"Not so--the monarchy is strong."
+
+"There is no chariot so strong that it is not at the mercy of a grain of
+sand. I assure you, sir, that the danger is real. A Republican
+party----"
+
+Fongereues shrugged his shoulders.
+
+"A _Republican_ party," repeated Cyprien, emphasizing the word, "is
+covering the country with its net. In a few months--in a few weeks,
+perhaps--a movement will burst out simultaneously all over France, and
+it may come to pass that the throne will fall quicker than we think.
+Royalty is unpopular in these days. Strength is the only sustaining
+force. And is the throne strong enough to resist a general uprising? I
+doubt it. And I, poor servant that I am, can arrest this movement, even
+now! I can betray the chiefs of this association. But I am an
+insignificant person. No matter how great the services may be that I
+render, a bone or two will be thrown to me to gnaw, and that will be
+deemed sufficient. But let the Marquis de Fongereues, peer of France,
+denounce at the Tuileries the formidable association that threatens the
+throne and the altar--let him present himself in the cabinet of the king
+with his hands full of proofs--let him show the documents and the lists
+of the conspirators, and the Marquis de Fongereues will become master of
+France. He may exact any recompense he pleases for saving the throne and
+the altar!"
+
+The Marquis rose hastily. His eyes flashed.
+
+"And you say that this formidable secret is yours Cyprien?"
+
+"I hold the threads of the plot in my hand!"
+
+"And yet, you are ready to abandon the benefits which would assuredly be
+yours should you decide to make the revelation?"
+
+"I am, first of all, your servant, sir!"
+
+"Throw your cards on the table, Cyprien! What do you want me to do in
+exchange for this great service?"
+
+"I impose no condition. I have faith in the generosity of my master."
+
+"And you are right!" the Marquis replied. "If I succeed, I will make you
+rich, and place you so high on the social ladder that the greatest names
+in France will bow before you!"
+
+"Thank you, honored sir. When the hour arrives, I will remind you of
+your words. But now we must think of Pierre Labarre. Time presses!"
+
+"I am ready. Where are we to find him?"
+
+"Two leagues from here, near the little town of Vagney."
+
+"It is now three o'clock," said the Marquis. "We can surely return here
+to-night. You had best order the horses at once."
+
+When the Marquis was alone, he bowed his face in his hands.
+
+"If I could believe him!" he murmured. "But I am afraid!"
+
+A few brief words of explanation are here necessary. The Fongereues
+family re-entered France with the allied armies, and immediately
+obtained the favor of the king. The old Marquis was elevated to the
+peerage, and Magdalena felt that her ambitious projects were on the eve
+of fulfilment. The Vicomte de Talizac easily obtained proof of the death
+of Simon Fougere; his wife and children had disappeared, and probably
+perished. The Vicomte, therefore, did not hesitate to claim as sole heir
+the estate on the death of the Marquis in 1817. But this estate, though
+considerable, was far less important than he and Magdalena had hoped.
+The Vicomte was deeply in debt, and his creditors became impatient. If
+he and the Vicomtesse had not been madly extravagant, all the more so
+from the restrictions they had so long endured, their revenues would
+have been more than sufficient. But these two persons, who had not
+recoiled from a terrible crime to ensure their undisputed possession of
+the Fongereues fortune, were now carried away by a wild thirst for
+excitement and gayety. The hotel they occupied became the scene of
+perpetual fetes and the rendezvous of the aristocracy.
+
+Magdalena's son, who now bore the title of the Vicomte de Talizac,
+brought up amid this mad prodigality, developed early the faults of his
+nature, which were increased by the foolish indulgence of his mother.
+
+His father read his character at a glance, and cautioned Magdalena, who
+at the first syllable he uttered silenced him in the most peremptory
+manner.
+
+"Do you think," said Magdalena, "that my son is to conduct himself as if
+he were to earn his bread by the sweat of his brow? I am happy to say
+that he knows nothing of your petty economies."
+
+As her husband protested, she lowered her voice and looked him full in
+the face. "Do you think," she said, "that it was to make a beggar of my
+son, that I told you to kill the other?"
+
+The two guilty creatures gazed at each other; the Marquis was the first
+to turn his uneasy eyes away. From this moment the struggle began, and
+the Marquis led a most terrible life.
+
+Before long the alliance with Mademoiselle de Salves was projected. This
+marriage was to the Marquis de Fongereues the last plank between himself
+and destruction. Unless this plan was carried to a happy termination, he
+was ruined. Already there were rumors floating about the court of spots
+on the hitherto untarnished shield of the Marquis de Fongereues. People
+were beginning to desert the hotel as rats fly from a falling house. The
+haughty manners of the Marquis and of Magdalena had conciliated no one.
+The insolence of Talizac had become proverbial; he had fought several
+duels from which he had come off unharmed. The approaching fall of this
+detested family was hailed with delight. It is therefore easy to
+understand why the Marquis was so eager to find Pierre Labarre.
+
+He was interrupted in his reflections by Cyprien, who now returned with
+the innkeeper.
+
+"I am sorry, sir," said the latter, "to be the bearer of annoyances. You
+know that we at this season are liable to inundations, and we have just
+learned that the torrent that crosses the road at Vagney is rising
+rapidly, and makes it dangerous to travel."
+
+"But is there no other road?"
+
+"None which is not equally flooded. Every where the danger would be just
+as great."
+
+"I am willing to pay any price to get on this afternoon."
+
+The innkeeper did everything to place obstacles in the path of the
+Marquis, who, however, insisted on going.
+
+"Well!" said Schwann, to himself, "I shall not be easy until they
+return, for I fear that the inundation has only just begun."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI.
+
+WALK IN, GENTLEMEN!
+
+
+While Gudel and Fanfar were making arrangements for the representation
+of the evening, while Fongereues and Cyprien exchanged their honest
+confidences, Robeccal went forth to meet La Roulante.
+
+It was this amiable giantess whom Gudel had been foolish enough to
+marry, although what charms he had discovered in this mountain of flesh
+it would be difficult to say. But he was alone; he was very unhappy over
+his wife's death, and La Roulante had consoled him. When once in
+possession of Gudel's name, this woman frankly threw aside the mask and
+displayed her real qualities and disposition. She was covetous and
+intemperate, presenting, in fact, an extraordinary specimen of human
+depravity. She hated Caillette for her youth and her beauty; she hated
+Fanfar for his goodness, and hated Gudel for his patience and for his
+good spirits.
+
+Robeccal joined the troop. Gudel had found him dying of hunger, and had
+rescued him. Soon he and Roulante were on excellent terms; both were
+thoroughly vicious. This liaison was furthermore cemented by a common
+hatred, and now they wanted to kill Gudel and Fanfar. They wished to
+keep Caillette that they might torture her as children torture young
+birds.
+
+These two excellent persons, Robeccal and the giantess, sat down by the
+roadside and talked over their plans.
+
+At this time the peasants had long been deprived of all amusements, and
+the circus company had been welcomed with enthusiasm which would
+certainly result in heavy receipts. If Iron Jaws should disappear by
+accident, or in any other way, La Roulante would remain mistress of this
+money, of the chariot and the horses--a snug little fortune, if properly
+managed.
+
+The giantess only wished to get rid of Gudel, whom she now hated, and
+marry this man whom she loved. It was clear that Gudel's suspicions were
+excited--in fact, his wife and Robeccal were doing their best to arouse
+him.
+
+If Gudel were dead, La Roulante would look out for his daughter, of
+course, and the giantess saw opening before her a vista of delightful
+cruelties she could practice on the girl. But Fanfar would certainly be
+in the way, for he never would allow the child to suffer, and therefore
+it was plain that Fanfar should disappear with Gudel.
+
+Such steps as these required serious consideration, and it was growing
+dark when these two conspirators returned to Saint Ame.
+
+In the meantime, two of our friends were taking a walk. Though the
+justice of this phraseology may be questioned, my readers shall judge.
+Bobichel placed his hat carefully on the side of the road, and then
+gravely began the charming exercise which is called the "frog." Bobichel
+did this with the most remarkable ease, and his wittiest sallies were
+uttered in this attitude.
+
+Caillette laughed, and at once began to dance, standing on the points of
+her toes and whirling round and round.
+
+But they were not so absorbed in their practice that they refrained from
+talking.
+
+"You are sad," said Bobichel.
+
+"No," answered Caillette, suddenly throwing out her left leg.
+
+Bobichel picked up a sou with his teeth.
+
+"Has anybody been worrying you, dear?" he asked, as soon as he had
+disposed of the coin.
+
+"Nobody," answered the girl, dancing on. "If I am sad, it is about
+nothing, at all events. Everybody has dark hours--"
+
+"Indeed they have. And Caillette, listen. There are, indeed, people
+about us,"--and the frog drew up his legs and jumped at least a
+foot--"this Robeccal will play us a trick some fine day, and your
+father's wife--well! we will see, we will see. But here they come, and I
+am sure they have been plotting together."
+
+"Come, Bobichel, do not let us wait until they overtake us," cried
+Caillette.
+
+"Do you think I shall run away? Now you go on, little girl; after a
+while I will overtake you. I want to have a little talk with this
+villain!"
+
+"Don't get into any trouble, papa would be offended."
+
+"Good-bye, then."
+
+Robeccal saw the girl run off toward the village, and a wicked smile
+gleamed over his face.
+
+"Good," he said, between his teeth, "we shall make you pay for that!"
+
+When he reached Bobichel, who was still in his frog attitude, the clown
+gave a flourish with his leg and his foot, quite by accident of course,
+knocking off Robeccal's hat.
+
+"Look out!" cried Robeccal.
+
+"Oh! a thousand pardons," answered Bobichel, "I did not see you!"
+
+"Didn't you! Well! little Caillette saw me, and ran away, as if the
+devil were coming."
+
+"A girl's nonsense. Never mind her. I am glad she has gone. The truth
+is, these people are putting on airs, and I don't like it."
+
+Robeccal was no fool, and these words inspired him with suspicion. "Does
+he want me to talk?" he said to himself. And he was right in this idea.
+
+"And as for Fanfar!" continued Bobichel, now standing on his feet.
+
+"And what of him? You are as intimate as possible with Fanfar?"
+
+Bobichel, with a sagacious nod, replied, "Of course I am, he is the
+master's favorite, but all the same I am not pleased with him. He eats
+our bread, and what does he do?"
+
+"He adds to the success of the entertainments."
+
+"I think, Robeccal, you are trying to provoke me. Because he is strong,
+because he has learned a lot of things, and can play on a lot of
+instruments, does not prove that he is worth more than either of us."
+
+"Oh! if I only knew whether you were to be trusted!" cried Robeccal.
+
+Bobichel in vain tried to preserve utter impassibility. Robeccal
+surprised a look in his eyes, which he translated at once as meaning,
+"He is going to speak. I have him."
+
+"I am to be trusted," said Bobichel, "particularly if there is a dirty
+piece of business on hand!"
+
+This was enough. Robeccal was warned.
+
+"Well then," he said, in a whisper, "I am about to leave Gudel."
+
+"No, not really!"
+
+"And if you desire, we can start together. I know of a place where we
+shall be received with open arms. What will Iron Jaws do without us! I
+laugh when we think of it!"
+
+"It is a good idea," said Bobichel. "When shall we go?"
+
+"One of these nights, when it is not cold."
+
+"Have we far to go?"
+
+"What! Already afraid of fatigue? We will make that all easy, but I must
+go now!"
+
+"Where are you going?"
+
+"Come now, Bobichel, none of that! I don't like questions, and I don't
+choose to be watched!"
+
+And Robeccal walked off.
+
+The clown looked after him, and then began to pound his own head until
+tears came to his eyes.
+
+"Idiot! Fool!" he muttered. "Will you never learn any sense. Why did you
+let that rascal see your game? You must warn Fanfar without delay."
+
+And as he saw some boys looking at him, they thinking that his despair
+heightened his comic appearance, he began to run toward the inn.
+
+Gudel met him at the door.
+
+"Well, Bob, what is the matter? You look disturbed. Come in, and take a
+glass of wine. And Schwann, join us."
+
+An hour later, the Square of Saint Ame was bright with lights, to the
+great joy of the peasants, who uttered many ohs! and ahs! as they
+entered the shed. Bobichel stood at the door.
+
+"Come in, gentlemen and ladies, come in!" And then he continued his
+shouts. "Wonderful Spectacle. The amazing Iron Jaws! The Wild Woman! And
+Fanfar! Come in, gentlemen, come in!"
+
+Caillette, behind the curtain, was looking through a hole, with beating
+heart, murmuring, "She is not coming."
+
+And Robeccal, passing La Roulante, whispered in her ear, "It is done!"
+
+A horse, covered with sweat, was pulled up before the door.
+
+"You have not forgotten me?" said Irene de Salves to Bobichel.
+
+Gudel came forward.
+
+"We were waiting for you before we began. But you are alone!"
+
+"My governess will be here in a moment."
+
+"She has come!" said Caillette, turning pale and looking up at Fanfar,
+who was arranging an iron chain, and did not seem to have heard.
+
+And the clown continued to say;
+
+"Come in, gentlemen, come in!"
+
+And the peasants, elbowing each other, said, "Oh! we must see this; it
+won't kill us for once."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII.
+
+ROBECCAL'S IDEA.
+
+
+The frequenters of the theatres and circuses of the present day would
+consider this establishment of Gudel's very modest, with its single
+gallery, a little red serge, and its shabby velvet curtain. There was an
+orchestra, but what an orchestra! All the actors when not occupied on
+the stage assisted in it. Gudel at intervals played the trombone. The
+gallery was crowded; so crowded that, from time to time, there were
+ominous crackings, but the people in their excitement did not notice
+this.
+
+But a great silence fell on the spectators, when Irene de Salves
+entered. Erect and haughty, she moved through the crowd, with the
+slightest possible inclination of the head in apology for disturbing
+them.
+
+A word here in regard to this young lady. She was looked upon as a very
+eccentric person. Her father had followed Bonaparte's fortunes, and had
+fallen in Russia, leaving his widow sole guardian of this girl, then
+only four years of age.
+
+The Countess, broken-hearted at her loss, shut herself up in the
+chateau, and devoted herself to her daughter. Irene seemed to have
+inherited her father's adventurous spirit, and her mother encouraged
+rather than restrained it, so great was her joy in the resemblance. She
+had his exuberant vitality, his contempt for danger, and his pride of
+race. Irene, possessing an enormous fortune and accustomed to the
+indulgence of every caprice, soon began to look upon herself as of
+superior clay to these peasants who doffed their hats to her as she
+passed. She believed in the great power of money, and the Countess
+encouraged this belief. But illness came, and the Countess was confined
+to her sofa by paralysis. She lived now only for her daughter, and it
+was the one bright spot in her day when Irene rushed in, bringing with
+her fresh air and the sweet scents of the woods.
+
+The child had become a woman, a woman full of contradictions. She was by
+turns charitable or pitiless, benevolent or disdainful. Sometimes, gay
+as a child, she rode all over the country--other days she hid herself in
+the woods or climbed to some inaccessible height, and there, with ardent
+eyes, indifferent to the wind that tossed her dark hair, she dreamed
+those dreams in which girls delight. She had moods of motiveless
+irritation, and of unreasonable indulgence. One day a village boy threw
+a stone at her horse. She pursued him with uplifted whip. Suddenly he
+turned, and folding his arms, defied her. She laughed aloud, and tossed
+him her purse.
+
+Another time she was told that a fire had destroyed a village. She
+hardly seemed to hear. It was winter. In the middle of the night she
+arose and saddled her horse with her own hands, and rode off to the
+sufferers, working over them for hours.
+
+She was not liked--none could tell why. Suddenly she learned, after a
+visit made by the Notary to her sick mother, that she was to marry the
+Vicomte Talizac. She cared nothing about it one way or the other. If her
+mother's heart was set upon it she was perfectly willing. The only thing
+she disliked in the plan was that she must leave her beautiful
+mountains. She had never been attracted by Paris, the streets and the
+people frightened her, but she was consoled by the thought that it would
+be a new world to conquer. On her return to the chateau, the daring
+words uttered by Fanfar dwelt in her memory: "Make yourself beloved."
+She had entered the booth where the exhibition had taken place, in a
+moment of idle curiosity, and was surprised at the impression made on
+her by the place and the people. She was greatly irritated withal. This
+mountebank, this rope-dancer, had taken a great deal upon himself,
+certainly. Why had she not answered him as he deserved? What did he
+mean--"Make yourself beloved"--as if she were not already beloved! She
+remembered the eyes which the peasants riveted on her. Could it be that
+they did not love her? And now she was seated on a wooden bench, Madame
+Ursula, who had at last arrived, on one side, and on the other a pretty
+but dirty child, who was playing with the fringe of her dress.
+
+Meanwhile the entertainment was going on. Gudel gave more than he
+promised in his handbill. Before the curtain went up, he called together
+the members of his troupe, and encouraged them to do their best. La
+Roulante went up to him, and to his great amazement said a few
+conciliatory words. As Gudel was by no means ill-natured, he shook
+hands with her. The giantess turned her face toward Robeccal and winked
+at him.
+
+Poor Gudel was very happy in this reconciliation. After all, things
+would go smoothly if he once got rid of Robeccal. Then Caillette kissed
+him, in her lace and spangles. Light as a bird, she skipped up to him
+and whispered in his ear:
+
+"Am I not lovely to-night, papa?"
+
+"Adorable!" he answered. He did not know that his darling was comparing
+herself with Irene.
+
+Fanfar had his hands full, and seemed so little interested in the
+audience that Caillette was enchanted, for in her heart lurked a fear
+that some one would love her Fanfar. But after all it did not matter,
+for he cared little for all the beauties in the world. He handed La
+Roulante the stones which were to form her apparent nutriment. He
+whispered a new witticism to Bobichel, and gave Robeccal some advice as
+to the manner in which he should hold his sword. Then he took a position
+where he could see without being seen.
+
+"Now, Fanfar," said Iron Jaws, "it is your turn! Look out for
+Caillette!"
+
+The girl was to execute a new step on the tight-rope, and when she
+appeared, led forward by Fanfar, and made the three deep "reverences,"
+there was a hum of admiration. She was charming--her delicacy was
+fairy-like. She lightly placed her foot on Fanfar's hand and sprang upon
+the rope. Standing there, she looked at Irene, who was leaning back with
+an air of indifference.
+
+Fanfar now took up a violin, and raising the instrument to his shoulder,
+he began. He played at first very slowly. Caillette, with her arms
+folded--she had long before renounced the balancing pole--advanced up
+the rope. She knelt, and remained absolutely motionless. Then there came
+a peremptory summons from the violin. She arose and extended her arms
+above her head, and began to dance. Fanfar was an artist, his playing
+was wonderful. The music became faster and faster, and Caillette's
+little feet seemed hardly to touch the rope, they twinkled like stars,
+while Fanfar's bow looked only like a silver thread. He dropped the
+violin, and Caillette leaped into his arms. As she touched the ground,
+she threw at Irene a glance of laughing triumph.
+
+Then came Robeccal's turn. He was a horrible object when he swallowed
+the swords. It was not admiration, it was horror, that he inspired. He
+seemed to enjoy this, and had imitated drops of blood on the sabres that
+he put down his throat. A few delicate persons shouted "Enough!" and
+Gudel appeared, not as Gudel, be it understood, but as Iron Jaws, the
+athlete. His enormous shoulders, his bull neck, contrasted with Fanfar's
+delicate form. Gudel tossed heavy weights and bent iron bars, and did
+all sorts of wonderful things. No one noticed the agility with which
+Fanfar, in his subordinate _role_, passed these weights to his employer.
+And now, the principal feat was to be performed. Fanfar rolled a barrel
+upon the stage, on which already stood a curious apparatus of bars and
+chains. Over this was a platform. The barrel was placed under this
+platform, and filled with stones. A rim was fitted to this barrel, and
+it was hoisted a little distance from the ground by a chain. It was this
+enormous weight that Gudel was to lift with his teeth.
+
+Iron Jaws placed himself on this platform.
+
+Fanfar blew a blast from his trumpet, and Iron Jaws grasped the chain in
+his teeth. The barrel moved up and up. The crowd was absolutely silent,
+this excess of strength inspired them with terror. Suddenly, a strange
+sound was heard.
+
+What was it? No one knew. No one had time to see. Gudel lay insensible
+on the ground. And Fanfar had caught this barrel in his iron arms. Had
+it absolutely fallen, for the chain had broken, nothing could have saved
+Gudel. As it was, the shock deprived him of consciousness. Fanfar
+himself could hardly stand.
+
+Caillette and Bobichel ran to Gudel. La Roulante knelt at his side, and
+uttered shriek after shriek. Robeccal did not appear.
+
+The peasants gathered around the injured man. They thought him dead.
+
+Fanfar drew Caillette away, and then leaned over his friend.
+
+La Roulante pushed him aside.
+
+"Don't interfere," she said, "he is my husband."
+
+Fanfar looked her in the face, and continued his examination. He opened
+Gudel's vest and shirt, and laid his hand on his heart. There was a
+moment of silence.
+
+"He is living," said Fanfar.
+
+Caillette uttered a little cry, and would have fallen had not a hand
+caught her. She turned, and saw it was Irene.
+
+"Will you give these salts to Monsieur Fanfar?" said Irene.
+
+"Ah! thanks!" cried Fanfar, without waiting for Caillette to give it to
+him, and took it, as he spoke, from the young lady's hand.
+
+"Pshaw! I have something better than that," said Bobichel, and dashing
+to the inn he returned with a bottle of brandy.
+
+"Two drops of this," he said, "will do more than all the salts in the
+world."
+
+Fanfar administered a few drops to Gudel, who presently uttered a long
+sigh.
+
+"Living!" cried Fanfar.
+
+"Heaven be praised!" shouted Bobichel. Then, turning swiftly toward La
+Roulante, he added,
+
+"Made a mistake, eh?"
+
+The giantess started.
+
+"Ah! he is better," said a treacherous voice. It was Robeccal who spoke.
+He feared lest his absence would look badly, and he had come back.
+
+"A physician is wanted," exclaimed Fanfar, turning to Schwann, who was
+weeping like a child.
+
+"There is none in the village, none nearer than Vagney, a league away."
+
+"Then I will go for him."
+
+"But the inundation. Fanfar, you can't do it."
+
+"I must try it, at all events."
+
+"Monsieur Fanfar," said Irene, "I beg you to take my horse. She is a
+splendid animal, and goes like the wind!"
+
+Madame Ursula raised her hands to heaven. "A splendid animal indeed!"
+she thought, "it cost two thousand francs."
+
+Caillette wrung her hands in despair.
+
+"I accept your kindness," answered Fanfar, simply. "You are very good,
+Mademoiselle, and I thank you."
+
+"I remembered your words of advice," she replied.
+
+Fanfar looked at her a moment. Then, passing his hand over his brow, he
+seemed to try to shake himself together.
+
+"Let him be carried to the inn, and the doctor shall see him as quickly
+as possible," he said.
+
+The peasants slowly raised the injured man, and as they crossed the
+Square, they beheld a singular scene. Bobichel had Robeccal by the
+throat, and pressed his knees on his adversary's chest.
+
+"Ah! Bobichel," cried Schwann, "is this the time to fight?"
+
+Bobichel rose, and seemed to hesitate, then he flung the scoundrel from
+him, with contempt and loathing.
+
+Fanfar leaped upon Irene's horse, and dashed off in the direction of
+Vagney.
+
+"My father, and he," murmured Caillette, "all that I love and have in
+the world."
+
+And with her handkerchief to her eyes, she followed the sad procession.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII.
+
+PIERRE LABARRE.
+
+
+We have left the Marquis and his most excellent servant Cyprien going
+toward Vagney, but it was not without anxiety that they ventured on this
+expedition. Both these men valued their lives highly, and felt no fears
+of ordinary foes, but with an inundation no cunning would prevail.
+Cyprien was extremely uncomfortable, and held his breath to listen to
+the rush of waters. He heard it soon enough, and saw it too. The water
+looked brown and had a silver foam upon it, but high as was the torrent
+it was still confined to its rocky bed. The intendant's courage
+returned. The Marquis stopped short to look at the cataract in
+admiration, but Cyprien urged him on, for it was growing late.
+
+Suddenly, Cyprien laid his hand on the arm of the Marquis, who started.
+Criminals are subject to these involuntary starts.
+
+"We are here," said Cyprien.
+
+"Ah!" answered the Marquis.
+
+"Do you see on that side hill a tiny house, which seems to hold its
+equilibrium almost by a miracle? It is there that we shall find Pierre
+Labarre."
+
+"But he may not be at home?"
+
+"He never goes out, this hermit." And Cyprien laughed.
+
+The house that Cyprien pointed out was much more like a hut--it
+consisted of one story. Before the door were two or three worn stone
+steps. The door was of oak, and looked strong. On each side of the door
+was a window, which had heavy shutters that could be bolted at night.
+These were now open.
+
+There was not a sound nor a movement about the house, at the back of
+which was an enclosure of moderate dimensions most carefully cultivated.
+
+The Marquis hastened on, impatiently. He struck two or three blows with
+his cane on the door.
+
+A voice within called out, "Who is there?"
+
+The two accomplices exchanged a glance. Their expedition promised well.
+
+"The Marquis de Fongereues."
+
+Instantly the door opened, and an old man appeared. It was the man whom
+we saw in the Black Forest in the beginning of our narrative, the man
+who then escaped from the assassin, and who told the old Marquis of
+Simon's retreat. But the ten years that had since elapsed had left their
+traces on his brow; and perhaps it was not years alone that had lined
+his brow, faded his eyes, and bent his form. His face was sad--a shadow
+rested upon it.
+
+"Enter, sir," said the former servant of the Fongereues family.
+
+The room into which the Marquis stepped was simply furnished--one corner
+was curtained off.
+
+"Please be seated, Monsieur le Vicomte," said Pierre.
+
+"I am forced to believe, Pierre," answered the Marquis, "that in the
+nine years that have elapsed since my father's death you have forgotten
+your good breeding. Will you kindly remember that my title is the
+Marquis de Fongereues?"
+
+Pierre held himself more erect. His face was like one of Rembrandt's
+pictures, where each wrinkle hides a thought.
+
+"I know but one Marquis de Fongereues!" he said, slowly.
+
+"And who may that be?" asked the Marquis, bringing his closed hand down
+upon the table.
+
+"The son of the man who was murdered in 1815, in the village of
+Leigoutte!" answered Labarre, with perfect calmness.
+
+"Murdered! That man fell when fighting against the true masters of
+France!"
+
+"Your brother, Monsieur le Vicomte, was killed by those who had sworn
+his death, and who struck him down, when, in defending his country, he
+was doing his duty!"
+
+The Marquis could hardly contain himself, his rage was so great. Cyprien
+feared an explosion. He had no objection to the man being killed, but
+not until he had been made to speak.
+
+"Let that pass!" said the Marquis, at last. "It is needless to awaken
+these memories." Then lowering his voice he added, with an affectation
+of pity:
+
+"It was a terrible affair, Pierre, and I understand that an old and
+faithful servant must have felt it deeply--the father, mother, and two
+children to die at the same time!"
+
+"You are mistaken," answered Labarre. "The father was shot, the mother
+perished in the flames, but the two children escaped."
+
+"It is strange that you can persist in this illusion, Pierre. Simon's
+two children are dead."
+
+The old man answered.
+
+"No--they are living!"
+
+The Marquis forgot himself:
+
+"Ah! you know, then, where they are?"
+
+"No; but your exclamation proves that you yourself do not believe in
+their death."
+
+Fongereues bit his lips.
+
+Cyprien shrugged his shoulders. He felt a little contempt for his master
+and doubted. The Society of Jesus would never trust him with a mission
+of diplomacy. He thought it was time for him to interfere.
+
+"It seems to me, sir," he said to the Marquis, "that absolute certainty
+in this matter is impossible. I have made the most careful search
+without the smallest success, though I had no difficulty in finding this
+house."
+
+"Ah! it was you, then, who discovered my retreat?" And Labarre shook his
+head.
+
+"That is enough!" interposed the Marquis. "Labarre, all this is useless.
+Give me your attention. I am about to speak of the honor of the
+Fongereues family."
+
+Labarre's pale face was lighted by a smile as he repeated the words:
+"The honor of the Fongereues family!"
+
+The Marquis shrugged his shoulders impatiently.
+
+"Cyprien," he said to his intendant, "you can leave us!"
+
+Cyprien was astonished. This was no part of the programme, but he
+remembered that he could return, and also that he could listen.
+
+As soon as the Marquis was alone with Labarre, an entire transformation
+took place in his manner. He seemed to throw aside a mask. He seized
+Labarre's hand, who shrank from the contact.
+
+"Listen to me, Pierre, and for God's sake throw aside this distrust,
+which is an insult to me. You were the friend and the confidant of my
+father, you knew his secret thoughts, and you know that he did not love
+me. I am ready to admit that my father had reason to be offended at many
+of my acts and many of my words. I was young, and very reckless. You
+see, Pierre, that I am speaking to you with entire frankness. God
+forgives the penitent. Are you harsher than He?" He felt the hand he
+held tremble in his grasp. "Guilty though I be," continued the Marquis,
+"great as have been my faults and my errors, I bear to-day the name of
+my father, and that name, Pierre Labarre, will be forever dishonored
+unless you come to my assistance!"
+
+"I do not understand," said Labarre. "I am an old man and poor. What can
+I do for you?"
+
+"I will tell you. I am ruined, my influence is lost. This is not all--I
+am crushed under the weight of engagements so heavy that were I to give
+up every sou I have in the world, and reduce my wife and my son to
+beggary, I could not release myself and save my honor!"
+
+Labarre did not speak.
+
+"I have tried every plan," continued the Marquis, "and--hear me,
+Pierre--I have gone too far. What would you say, Pierre, if the name of
+your old master should be borne by a forger?"
+
+Pierre did not evince the smallest emotion.
+
+"Well?" said the Marquis, breathlessly.
+
+"What do you want of me?" asked Pierre.
+
+"I will tell you. I know that my father, in order to reserve for Simon a
+portion of his fortune, and fearing, with the suspicion of an old man,
+that in some way he would lose it, made a will, which he gave to
+you----"
+
+"Go on, sir."
+
+"This will contains a secret--it tells where this money reserved for
+Simon is concealed. This will gives direction that only Simon, or his
+heirs, shall receive this will. Simon is dead, his children have
+disappeared. Your duty is plain. This money now amounts to two millions,
+at least. What was always my father's first wish? Was it not to preserve
+his family name without a spot or blemish? Give me this will. Without
+this money I am dishonored!"
+
+The old man released his hand and crossed the room. He stopped before
+the dark curtain, and then, with a solemn gesture, lifted it. The
+Marquis leaned forward. This was what he saw: A sheet of iron was
+fastened to the wall. It was twisted and out of shape. Strange lines
+were upon it, as if flames had licked it.
+
+"Do you know what that is?" said Labarre.
+
+"No," answered the Marquis, surprised and uneasy.
+
+"I will tell you. Among the Vosges mountains there lived a man, honest
+and kindly. He was loved by all. He kept an inn, and taught the children
+of the peasants, to whom he sold wine. Yes, and this man bore one of the
+noblest names in France. One day cowards killed him, and at the same
+time other scoundrels and cowards, in obedience to fratricidal commands,
+attacked the house where he had so long struggled against poverty; other
+villains again attacked his wife and tried to kill his children. This,
+Monsieur de Talizac, is the sign that hung on the front of the inn kept
+by Simon, Marquis de Fongereues, and I defy you, his brother and his
+murderer, to repeat to me what you have already said in the face of this
+witness. Pray and entreat, if you will, if you dare--I, the lacquey of
+your father, reply: Cain! you are stained with the blood of your
+brother--begone!"
+
+The Marquis uttered a yell of rage.
+
+"Your memory is short, Monsieur de Talizac, and I will remind you that
+in 1817, one night the good man whom you killed with your infamy lay
+dying. You had the cruel courage to enter his room, and knelt at the
+side of his bed----"
+
+"Be silent!" cried the Marquis.
+
+"My master cursed you, cursed you as a murderer! It was a horrible
+scene--I saw and heard it all. You implored this dying man to have mercy
+on you and tell you where this money was placed. But my master did not
+yield, nor will I!"
+
+Deadly pale, and with compressed lips, the Marquis murmured:
+
+"Then you refuse?"
+
+"I refuse--the son of Simon de Fongereues is living!"
+
+"And if he be dead--am I not the sole heir?"
+
+"I do not know."
+
+"You have no right to keep back a will. Once more I ask--will you
+speak?"
+
+"I will not!"
+
+"Very well. The will is here; we will take it!"
+
+The Marquis whistled, and Cyprien appeared.
+
+"We must help ourselves," said the Marquis.
+
+"All right!" answered the lacquey.
+
+Strangely enough, this man who looked so infirm now bounded back and
+placed himself behind a table. He drew from his pockets two pistols,
+which he pointed toward his adversaries.
+
+"Monsieur de Talizac," he said, "you tried to kill me once before, in
+the Black Forest--take care!"
+
+Fongereues had no arms. Cyprien had been wiser. He, too, drew a pistol,
+but before he could touch the trigger, Pierre had opened the door behind
+him.
+
+"For a valet," he said, "a dog is all that is required."
+
+A dog of the Vosges, as large as a wolf, with bloodshot eyes and
+bristling hair, flew at Cyprien's throat, who fell on the floor.
+
+"Help! Help!" cried the scoundrel.
+
+The Marquis, livid with terror, had succeeded in opening the door.
+
+"Here, Cliepe! Here!" shouted Pierre.
+
+The dog gave Cyprien another furious shake, and dropped him. He rolled
+himself out of the door. Pierre flung it to and bolted it.
+
+"Farewell!" he cried. "You will get your punishment in another world!"
+
+And from his window he watched two black shadows fleeing toward
+Saint-Ame.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIX.
+
+A FIRST MEETING.
+
+
+Just as Fanfar mounted his horse, an incident occurred which passed
+unperceived by the others.
+
+Irene went up to the groom who held her horse, and with the air of
+giving him some directions, she said to Fanfar, in a low voice:
+
+"Are you not wounded? Are you not risking your life to save that of your
+father?" She emphasized the word father, as if to make amends for having
+previously called him master.
+
+"I am always ready to die for those I love!" answered Fanfar, as he
+examined the animal with attention.
+
+Irene was silent for a moment. She admired the courage and the devotion
+of this man, but was at the same time irritated at the attraction she
+felt toward him. Obeying her sarcastic impulse, she said, quickly:
+
+"I have christened my horse since I saw you. His name is Fanfar!"
+
+Fanfar smiled.
+
+"Very good!" he answered, as he patted the animal's glossy side. "We two
+Fanfars must not shrink from any danger!"
+
+Irene remembered the inundation, but before she could speak the animal
+and rider were away.
+
+"The carriage is waiting for you," said Madame Ursula, approaching.
+
+"Yes, let us go," answered the girl, with feverish haste, and as she
+took her seat in the carriage, she said to herself: "Yes, I see what he
+means--make myself beloved, is what he said!"
+
+Fanfar, directed by some peasants, was now far on the road. He tore off
+his hat and flung it away. His brow was burning. Was it his violent
+exertions that had given him this fever? Or was it the anxiety he felt
+for his adopted father? But Gudel's pale face was obscured by a mocking
+though sweet face, which flitted between him and all else. How beautiful
+she was!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The two men, when they fled from the cottage of old Labarre, were
+entirely routed and discomfited. It was not the Marquis who was afraid
+of the pistol--he fled from the echo of his father's words, which the
+old servant had repeated.
+
+Cyprien could hardly draw a breath without pain, for the dog had wounded
+him on the throat.
+
+The Marquis was enraged with himself that he had taken no arms with him.
+He had supposed that he would not have the smallest difficulty in
+bending the old man to his will. Why had he not leaped at the fellow's
+throat when he opened the door?
+
+They had reached the rocks near the cataract, when Cyprien, seizing the
+arm of the Marquis, cried:
+
+"Listen!"
+
+The cataract roared through the narrow passage, but this was not all.
+What was that sound of crashing rocks? They soon discovered. Huge
+blocks of granite had rolled down from above, diverting the course of
+the water, which now tumbled down on the highway like a sheet of foam.
+And what was this behind them? Another great sheet of water coming on.
+The flood was pursuing them. The two men began to run. Suddenly the
+Marquis stumbled and fell. The water swept over him and carried him
+toward the abyss.
+
+"Help! Help!" cried Fongereues.
+
+Cyprien gathered together all his strength for one mighty effort--he was
+saved!
+
+The Marquis clung to the trunk of a pine tree that grew close to the
+precipice. The water rolled over his head and blinded him, but did not
+succeed in washing him away. Suddenly, from the summit of the rocks,
+came a voice.
+
+"Courage!" it cried, "courage!"
+
+The voice came from a man, but how did any man maintain a foothold
+there? He descended the rock, crying all the time: "Courage! Courage!"
+Suddenly his hands ceased to clutch the rocks, and he dropped. The water
+rose to his knees, but tempestuous as was the rush, he maintained his
+footing.
+
+The voice that had shouted for assistance was growing weaker. But
+Fanfar, for he it was, soon found the Marquis, but just as he had
+succeeded in reaching him he slipped, and believed himself lost.
+
+No, a strong hand grasped his arm and drew him up, but the burthen was
+heavy, for the Marquis was unconscious. Slowly, very slowly, Fanfar
+raised his load and himself, and finally sank upon the turf above,
+nearly as unconscious as the Marquis.
+
+Fortunately, a small lantern, which Fanfar wore at his belt, was not
+broken; he lighted it and examined the face of the man he had rescued.
+
+Yes, Fanfar, the resemblance is great. This is the brother of the man
+who died at Leigoutte. This is the man who outraged a woman one terrible
+night, and that woman was the sister of Simon's wife, and this man, who
+was then the Vicomte de Talizac, is to-day the Marquis de Fongereues.
+This man is your father! Does Fanfar know all this? Not he!
+
+The Marquis opens his eyes, he sees Fanfar in the darkness.
+
+"You have saved me!" he murmured.
+
+"Can you stand? Can you walk?" asked Fanfar.
+
+The Marquis struggled to his feet, but uttered a cry of pain.
+
+"Are you hurt?"
+
+"I think not, but I seem to have no strength left."
+
+"Wait!" said Fanfar.
+
+He went to the side of the rock, and examined it with his lantern. He
+uttered a joyous exclamation.
+
+"Most men," he said to himself, "would find this rock impracticable, but
+Fanfar can do it."
+
+He returned to the Marquis.
+
+"Put your arms about my neck," he said, "and trust to me."
+
+The Marquis obeyed, and Fanfar, weighed down again by this burthen,
+climbed the path heretofore trodden only by goats. They reached the top
+in safety, there they found Irene's horse.
+
+"I am going to take you on the saddle with me," he said to the Marquis.
+"I had been to a neighboring village for a physician, and returning I am
+only too thankful that accident brought me in this direction."
+
+He assisted the Marquis to the saddle, and that his hands might be free
+requested the Marquis to hold the lantern.
+
+He did so, and, with instinctive curiosity, flashed the light into the
+face of his preserver. He started back, for he saw before him the living
+image of the old Marquis de Fongereues. He must know the truth at any
+price. He fought against his fatigue, and just as Fanfar was about to
+leap into the saddle, the Marquis pressed the animal with his knee, and
+the animal was off like the wind. Fanfar believed that the horse had ran
+away.
+
+"I hope he will get to the inn in safety," said Fanfar, anxiously. "I
+must get back on foot, it seems!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XX.
+
+THIN PARTITIONS.
+
+
+Gudel had been carried to his room, the innkeeper moaning over and over
+again, "How could this have happened?"
+
+La Roulante established herself by the sick bed. She was livid with
+fear. The attempt had been a failure, and Bobichel had guessed it!
+
+The persistent questions of Schwann made her very uneasy. Caillette said
+the same thing. She hardly knew what had happened; she only knew that
+her father had been injured.
+
+Bobichel came in.
+
+"The chain has been examined," he said, looking in La Roulante's face.
+
+"What of that!" she cried. "Why do you meddle in what does not concern
+you? Do you mean to say that any one meddled with the chain?"
+
+"That is precisely what I mean!" answered Bobichel, forgetting all
+caution.
+
+La Roulante rushed at him. Caillette threw herself between them, and
+Schwann dragged her back.
+
+La Roulante caught Caillette by the arm and swung her off, then the girl
+picked herself up and ran to Gudel's bed. "Help! father!" she cried,
+"help!"
+
+The girl's voice seemed to produce a magical effect. He half rose in his
+bed, and looked about.
+
+Every one was amazed and delighted.
+
+"I knew he would get well!" cried Schwann, as he rushed to Gudel, and
+took his hands.
+
+Bobichel immediately poured out some brandy and gave it to Gudel, whose
+eyes almost at once regained a natural appearance. He saw Caillette
+first, and kissed her tenderly.
+
+"Where is Fanfar?" he said. "Was he hurt?"
+
+"He has gone to Vagney for a doctor for you, dear father."
+
+Iron Jaws laughed aloud.
+
+"I want none of your poisoners here, let me tell you." He caught sight
+of Bobichel, as he spoke. The clown was crying like a baby. "What is the
+matter with you, Bob?" he asked.
+
+"Nothing, master, nothing at all; I am so happy."
+
+"You have been fighting, sir?" said Gudel.
+
+La Roulante bustled forward.
+
+"No, he was impertinent to me," she said, "and I gave him such a shaking
+as he deserved, that was all. But have not you a word for your wife?"
+
+Gudel turned his head away. Bobichel took advantage of this movement to
+shake his fist in the face of the giantess.
+
+"Now let me see if I can stand," said Gudel. "One! two! three!"
+
+He was on his feet.
+
+"I must look at that chain," he said, "when Fanfar comes. And where is
+he? It seems to me that he is gone a long time."
+
+"He will be here soon," answered the innkeeper, "unless the inundation
+has increased."
+
+"Is he on foot?" asked Gudel.
+
+"No, the lady lent him her horse," said Bobichel, but he stopped short
+when he saw Caillette turn pale.
+
+Gudel could not see his daughter.
+
+"The young lady is kind-hearted, in spite of all her affectations," he
+said. "And now, good people, I must ask you to leave me. While I am
+waiting for Fanfar, I must see these men that I am to take to-morrow to
+Remisemont."
+
+"You do not really mean to go to-morrow?"
+
+"I can't say yet. Caillette, my dear, you must go to bed and get some
+rest at once."
+
+Gudel was not in the least hurt; he had received a great shock, that was
+all.
+
+When La Roulante left the room, she was met at the door by Robeccal.
+
+"You see," he said, in a fierce whisper, "that if I had done as I
+wished, and used a knife, the whole thing would have been settled by
+this time."
+
+The two accomplices stood talking in the large room which the men of the
+company shared.
+
+"Who the devil could have supposed," the one said to the other, "that
+Fanfar would have been able to save Gudel. Such a tremendous weight!"
+
+While they were talking, Robeccal and La Roulante heard heavy steps on
+the stairs, and then a knock at Gudel's door.
+
+Robeccal started. He suddenly remembered the brief colloquy which he had
+had with the unknown--who was in fact, Cyprien. Might it not be if he
+did what this man desired that in it he would also find his revenge?
+
+"If you hate Gudel," this man had said, "I will give you an opportunity
+of paying off old scores."
+
+Robeccal opened the door and looked out.
+
+Yes, these were the men. Turning to the giantess,
+
+"Listen!" he said, "it is by no means certain that all is lost."
+
+"I don't understand."
+
+"No, but tell me quick. Does he seem to have any secrets?"
+
+"He is always reading the newspapers. He goes himself for his letters
+always, and brings back a quantity."
+
+"Have you never read any of them?"
+
+"I can't read."
+
+"Wait a little. I think we have him now."
+
+The two persons whom we saw in the dining-room now stood at the foot of
+Gudel's bed.
+
+"You have had a narrow escape," said one.
+
+"Yes, thanks to Fanfar. His brains, his arms and his muscles saved me."
+
+"It was of him that we came to speak," replied the man who was dressed
+like a horse jockey.
+
+"If it is time to act," said Gudel, "you may rely on him."
+
+"Are you sure? We do not doubt you nor him, but for such work as
+ours--of which the aim is to return to France that liberty which has
+been stifled by the iron hand of Bonaparte and by the Bourbons--we need
+men who are ready to sacrifice their lives--to walk straight on, even if
+the scaffold stands at the termination of their road. Is Fanfar such a
+man?"
+
+"I am not much of a speaker," answered Gudel. "My father was a soldier
+of the Republic. I myself was condemned to death in 1815. My father gave
+his life for France, and I lived through accident. It was about that
+time that little Fanfar fell into my hands, and I have always taught him
+to feel the greatest respect for the Revolution. You know, too, that his
+father was murdered by the allies, his mother was burned by the
+Cossacks, and his sister, poor little soul, died of starvation. Do you
+wonder that Fanfar hates the Bourbons? And you ask if you may trust
+him!"
+
+There was a brief silence, and then the man who looked like an old
+soldier spoke.
+
+"Gudel," he said, "we believe you. For ten years, over and over again,
+you have proved to us your devotion and your honesty."
+
+Iron Jaws blushed with pleasure.
+
+"Fanfar will be here presently. You will find him ready to do your
+bidding, and to risk his life in the performance of his duty."
+
+"You know the situation," resumed one of the men; "our enemies are
+already quarreling among themselves, our friends are redoubling their
+efforts. General Foy has stigmatized the purchasers of votes and
+rendered their names infamous. Roger Collard has distinctly asked a
+terrible question--'where will you be in seven years?' The excitement
+is general, and we must send a man of activity to Paris--a man who is
+young and active, who is willing to make any sacrifice. Can Fanfar be
+this man?"
+
+Gudel contented himself with a simple affirmative.
+
+"Then," said the old soldier, drawing out a pocketbook, "here are papers
+so important that were they to fall into the hands of our adversaries,
+our heads would be in danger and our plans ruined. These papers Fanfar
+must carry to Paris; he will give them to the committee, who in their
+turn will give him orders, which he is to execute without hesitation or
+curiosity. Can you answer for Fanfar?"
+
+"Upon my honor, I can."
+
+The two men continued to talk in a low voice with Gudel, and then they
+went out. Absorbed in thought, they did not notice a man who started
+back when they appeared. Robeccal had heard every syllable.
+
+Cyprien now arrived at the inn. White, trembling and breathless, he
+could scarcely reply to the questions addressed to him. He believed the
+Marquis to be dead, and was finally able to tell his story.
+
+Schwann began to be very anxious. Where was Fanfar? Suddenly a horse was
+heard coming at full speed. Schwann and Caillette rushed to the door.
+They uttered a simultaneous cry of surprise. It was the Marquis.
+
+"And Fanfar? Where is he?"
+
+"He is coming. But I have not a moment to lose. Take me to Gudel's
+chamber."
+
+The tone was too peremptory for Schwann to hesitate; being reassured,
+too, in regard to Fanfar, he was ready to obey without stopping to ask
+the meaning of this extreme haste. Cyprien started forward, but the
+Marquis gave him a look that commanded silence, and as he passed, said
+in a low voice:
+
+"Patience!"
+
+The door closed. Then Cyprien felt a hand on his shoulder and recognized
+the man whose assistance he had endeavored to buy.
+
+"Come out with me," said this man.
+
+"You have learned something?"
+
+"Come out with me, I tell you. Do you think I am fool enough to talk
+under these walls?"
+
+As they stepped out on the square they saw Fanfar, but Fanfar did not
+notice these two shadows. He entered the inn and Caillette threw herself
+into his arms, sobbing with joy.
+
+"I am glad to see you," muttered Schwann, half ashamed of his own
+emotion.
+
+In the silence that followed, the voice of La Roulante was heard singing
+while drowning her sorrows in a bottle of brandy.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXI.
+
+THE GRATITUDE OF A MARQUIS.
+
+
+After the departure of the two strangers, who, it will be understood,
+now renounced their trip for Remisemont, Gudel remained very pensive. He
+said to himself that after all he had no right to imperil the future of
+Fanfar and to have made that promise for him. He began to feel very
+uneasy at the long absence of the young man. There was a knock at the
+door.
+
+"Come in," called Iron Jaws.
+
+His surprise was great when he beheld a stranger walk in.
+
+"I am," said this stranger, "the Marquis de Fongereues, and I wish to
+talk with you."
+
+"I am entirely at your service," answered Iron Jaws, bringing forward a
+chair.
+
+"You are probably astonished, Monsieur Gudel," said the Marquis, "at my
+coming here at this time. I know of your accident, and I trust you will
+excuse my indiscretion when you hear my reasons."
+
+Iron Jaws bowed.
+
+"I was, a half hour since, in great danger, and one of your people saved
+my life. You will hear about that later on, I can not now delay to tell
+you."
+
+"But who was this person?"
+
+"His name was Fanfar."
+
+"I might have known it!" shouted Gudel, "he is always doing such things.
+But where is he? Is he hurt?"
+
+"Not in the least. He assisted me upon his horse, and the animal was
+uncontrollable; he, however, brought me here in safety, but my preserver
+was obliged to walk back."
+
+"He does not mind that, let me tell you. He will be here in ten
+minutes."
+
+"And the more reason why I should make haste in what I have to say. My
+name tells you the position I hold at court--"
+
+"I know very little of such matters."
+
+"Then I will tell you that my name is well known, and that my credit is
+great. I am ready to serve your--son--"
+
+"My son! Alas, sir, I wish Fanfar were my son, but, unfortunately, he is
+no relation of mine."
+
+"But this young man has parents? I can serve them, undoubtedly."
+
+"Fanfar has no parents."
+
+The Marquis bit his lips. With difficulty he curbed his impatience; it
+showed in his voice and his eyes. Gudel suspected nothing.
+
+"A poor orphan, then?" asked the Marquis, in the most honeyed tones,
+"entrusted to your care by a dying father?"
+
+"No, sir, I found Fanfar."
+
+"Pray tell me how and where? I am greatly interested in this young man."
+
+"It is a simple story, sir. My father and I were mountebanks, and there
+are worse trades, let me assure you. I have served my time under the
+Republic, and was easy in my mind when there came the trouble of 1812. I
+with the rest was called out again. I had left my wife and my little
+girl at home in a village which the allies would have gobbled up at a
+mouthful, so I asked for a short leave and started off. I tumbled my
+family and their goods into my chariot, where were already packed the
+things I used in my profession. I must not omit to mention that Bobichel
+had kept up the business for me. We travelled along not very rapidly,
+for there was already fighting going on in France, and we were obliged
+to turn off the highway many times. One morning, passing through a
+field, I heard the sound of a bugle. It was the French bugle call. It
+sounded a little queer, but I said to myself, 'Hullo! there are comrades
+near.' I ran round a hillock, and saw something that I shall never
+forget in my life."
+
+"Go on!" cried the Marquis.
+
+Gudel opened his eyes in amazement, but he could not well see the face
+of his companion, and was flattered by the evident curiosity of the
+Marquis.
+
+"I saw soldiers, several of them, lying dead, butchered by the Cossacks.
+I looked around to see who had sounded the bugle. You won't believe me
+when I tell you that it was a boy, certainly not over ten, who had
+discovered this bugle and blown it. I ran to him, but I don't know that
+he even saw me, for he fell back fainting at that very moment."
+
+"And you picked him up?"
+
+"Of course I did! And this was Fanfar."
+
+"Did you make any search for his parents?"
+
+"How could I! The Cossacks were at my heels, and there was fire and
+blood everywhere."
+
+"But later on?"
+
+"The child was sick for a long time, entirely out of his head, and when
+he began to recover we feared that his brain was hopelessly affected. It
+was not until eighteen months had elapsed that he was able to tell me he
+came from Leigoutte, among the Vosges mountains."
+
+"Ah!" The Marquis drew his breath with pain. "Go on! go on!" he muttered
+in a hoarse voice.
+
+"He said his father's name was Simon, his mother's name Francoise, and a
+little sister was called Francinette, but he gave me no family name. I
+did my best and found that the father had been killed in an engagement
+among the mountains, the mother was burned in a fire set by the
+Cossacks, the sister had disappeared; my little Fanfar was all alone. I
+kept him, and did what I could for him. I taught him my profession. This
+is the whole story. On one side good, brave people, on the other cowards
+and assassins."
+
+The Marquis was livid. There was now no doubt. It was Simon's son who
+had been thus thrown in his path. He asked one more question.
+
+"But could you not learn the father's name?"
+
+"No, the village was burned, almost all the inhabitants had perished,
+the Cossacks had done their work well. One of the peasants did tell me
+that he always thought this Master Simon--he taught a school--was a
+great lord in disguise, but there are always just such foolish stories,
+and you know in those days great lords were not often killed in
+defending France."
+
+Fanfar entered somewhat abruptly.
+
+"This is the lad, sir," said Gudel, drawing him to his side. "He is
+good, he is honest, he is strong!"
+
+"I wish to thank you, young man," said the Marquis, turning to Fanfar,
+"for saving my life."
+
+Fanfar answered courteously.
+
+"You were in peril. I only did my duty."
+
+"Do not forget that if I can ever serve you, you are to apply to me
+without hesitation," said the Marquis, and bowing he left the room.
+
+Fanfar and Gudel were now alone.
+
+Cyprien waited for his master, who seized him by the arm and dragged him
+into the room where they had talked together in the morning.
+
+"Cyprien," he whispered, fiercely, "hell has come to our aid; this young
+man who saved my life, this Fanfar--"
+
+"Well?"
+
+"Is the son of Simon Fougere--the son of my brother!"
+
+My readers will please remember that only Francoise knew the secret of
+the birth of little Jacques, who was supposed to be the son of Simon.
+And of Francoise, the fire had destroyed every trace.
+
+"At last!" exclaimed Cyprien.
+
+"Hush! I have reflected. This young man must die, but his identity must
+be perfectly clear. We require Gudel's testimony, and then, when all
+this is plain, we can control Labarre."
+
+Cyprien assented to the wisdom of the plan, but he wished a little
+delay. He saw evidences of great impatience on the part of the Marquis.
+
+"I am not so simple, sir, as you think. This Gudel is one of the leaders
+of the conspiracy of which I have told you, and Fanfar is the man on
+whom these bandits rely to arouse the populace in Paris."
+
+Then in a low voice he told the Marquis how Iron Jaws had then in his
+possession papers which would prove the whole plot, and give the names
+of the conspirators.
+
+"Let him fall into the hands of the law," concluded Cyprien, "and the
+end is certain. We can contrive to give to the plot enormous
+proportions, and he will be condemned."
+
+The Marquis shrugged his shoulders.
+
+"No, that won't do. We can't rely on these judges. One never knows what
+whims they may take into their heads."
+
+"But what do you propose?"
+
+Fongereues hesitated.
+
+"Who is this man," he asked, "who has revealed to you the conversation
+of Gudel and his accomplices?"
+
+"He is a scoundrel named Robeccal, who belongs to their troupe."
+
+The Marquis tore a leaf from his note book, and wrote a few words in
+haste.
+
+"Take this man with you, and go to Remisemont," he said. "Go to the
+Comte de Vernac, who is a rabid monarchist. He has vast influence, and
+this very night the police will be here, these two men will be made
+prisoners, and I have no doubt they will resist. Then I will attend to
+the rest; a criminal who resists may be silenced."
+
+Cyprien smiled meaningly.
+
+"Now go, at once, there is no time to be lost. Fanfar must be killed;
+Gudel must be taken alive. Gudel will tell his story in the court-room.
+The Comte de Vernac can never say that the information on which he acted
+came from me, and without any trouble we shall get rid of the heir of
+Simon Fougere. Before these same judges, moreover, Labarre shall deliver
+the will, and tell the secret. Let no one see you and this Robeccal go
+away together."
+
+"Rely on me."
+
+Before many minutes, Robeccal and Cyprien started off together.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXII.
+
+POOR BOBICHEL.
+
+
+More than two hours had elapsed since the departure of the two spies.
+The little town of Saint Ame was plunged in profound obscurity. The wind
+raged down the narrow street, and the roar and rush of the torrent was
+heard in the distance.
+
+One of the rooms in the inn presented a singular aspect. Caillette lay
+exhausted on her bed, but she was not asleep; she lay with her eyes wide
+open thinking of Fanfar. The poor little creature's heart was very sore,
+but she was too innocent to know why. She felt a vague terror
+complicated by a certain bitterness. She felt without understanding.
+
+Suddenly, she heard a strange noise. She looked around the room, dimly
+lighted by a night-lamp. On the floor lay the giantess, who had drank
+too much brandy. Robeccal had said a few words to her before he went
+away with the lacquey. She did not seem to understand him, but fell into
+a doze while he was talking. When she awoke, though by no means herself,
+she determined to rise from her bed. She did so, and staggered half
+across the room, then fell on the floor. Half laughing she looked about,
+and met the surprised, half frightened eyes of Caillette. This was not
+the first time that the young girl had surprised her in this degraded
+condition but this time she was more than ever shocked, and shuddered
+perceptibly.
+
+All at once, the giantess seemed to recognize in Caillette an enemy. She
+uttered a sound that was almost a growl, and, unable to stand, crawled
+across the room to the girl's bed.
+
+Caillette recoiled until she could go no further. She wanted to scream,
+but her tongue clove to the roof of her mouth.
+
+La Roulante saw her terror, and laughed. Determined to torture the
+child, she began to talk.
+
+"You want your Fanfar, don't you? Let me tell you that he cares not a
+sou whether you live or die."
+
+She stopped talking for a few minutes, and seemed to be reflecting.
+
+"No, I won't kill you--it is not worth while. What was it that my little
+Bob said to me? Where has he gone, I should like to know!"
+
+She repeated these words over and over again. Presently she vaguely
+recalled what Robeccal had last said to her.
+
+"'He will not be long,' he said, 'he was going--' Where was he going?
+Oh! for the police--Gudel and Fanfar had better look out!"
+
+She now crawled away from the bed until she found the brandy bottle,
+which she drained, all the time saying over and over confused words
+about the police and papers which would cost two persons their lives.
+
+Although Caillette did not understand, she saw that there was danger,
+pressing and immediate, for both Gudel and Fanfar. She waited until La
+Roulante's heavy breathing showed that she was asleep, and then the
+young girl cautiously crept from her bed and to the door, which,
+fortunately, was not locked. She hurried to her father's room. Some one
+lay before the door. She stooped and recognized the faithful clown, who
+had thus mounted guard.
+
+"Bobichel! I must speak to my father," she whispered.
+
+"What! is it you, little Caillette? Is there trouble?"
+
+"Yes--and not one moment to lose!"
+
+Bobichel was wide awake and on his feet. He opened the door for
+Caillette. Her father was on the bed asleep. Fanfar was asleep, too,
+sitting in his chair.
+
+Fanfar started up. "Caillette!" he exclaimed.
+
+"Yes--wake my father at once!"
+
+"He is so weary, and needs rest."
+
+"It is a question of your liberty--his liberty and your lives!"
+
+Gudel now opened his eyes.
+
+"What is the matter, child?" he asked.
+
+"The police are coming to arrest you!"
+
+"What nonsense!"
+
+Caillette instantly repeated the disconnected words uttered by La
+Roulante.
+
+"She can't know anything!" said Gudel, uneasily. "Bobichel!" he called.
+
+"I am here, master!" answered the clown.
+
+"Where is Robeccal?"
+
+"I don't know--he went away three hours ago."
+
+"Where was he going?"
+
+"I don't know--I was too sleepy to ask."
+
+Gudel questioned Caillette again. "Had La Roulante distinctly spoken of
+papers?"
+
+It was only too clear that there had been spies in their camp.
+
+"Fanfar," said Gudel, "when one accepts a mission like ours his life no
+longer belongs to himself. We must fly, and at once!"
+
+"But how?"
+
+"We will take the horses that belong to the chariot."
+
+"And do you forget me, father?" asked Caillette.
+
+"No--I confide you to Bobichel."
+
+"Oh! Fanfar, do not leave me!" sobbed the young girl.
+
+"Dear child, there are great dangers to run!"
+
+"Yes, but with you I should not be afraid."
+
+"And master--am I to be left behind?" asked the clown.
+
+"Very well, we four will go, then," answered Gudel. "But you forget that
+we have not horses enough," he added.
+
+"But I have legs," interposed Bobichel, "and I can overtake you wherever
+you go. You can take Caillette on behind."
+
+"Yes, that would do very well, would it not, Fanfar?" asked the girl,
+eagerly.
+
+"Where shall we go?" said Fanfar to Gudel.
+
+"We had best take the road to Paris. If we are pursued, we shall find a
+hiding-place there as well as anywhere else."
+
+"Shall we wake Schwann?" asked the clown.
+
+"No, no--what is the use? I do not wish him to be compromised, either,
+and when they question him they will find that he really knows nothing.
+You, Bobichel, bring out the horses--the saddles are in the wagon. Go,
+and make haste!"
+
+Gudel here stopped short.
+
+"My wife!" he said.
+
+"But, master, it is she who has betrayed you!" cried Bobichel.
+
+"It is she who has saved us!" Gudel replied.
+
+"Yes, but without meaning to do so."
+
+"I must see her, at all events."
+
+And Gudel hurried to her room, and beheld her lying in a drunken stupor
+on the floor. He shook his head sadly.
+
+"After all, she has nothing to fear, and we may as well part in this way
+as in any other--the end was coming!"
+
+And he returned to his daughter and his friends, who in the meantime had
+been making a rope of the sheets and blankets on the bed. With their aid
+Bobichel dropped from the window.
+
+"Now it is my turn!" said Caillette, and, light as a bird, she seized
+the rope.
+
+"Take care, child! Take care!" cried Fanfar.
+
+"Would it pain you," she asked quickly, "if I came to grief?"
+
+"Hush! child."
+
+Little Caillette was very gay, and it was with a pretty, childish laugh
+that she swung herself to the ground, where in two minutes her father
+and Fanfar also stood.
+
+The two horses, all saddled, stood ready.
+
+"You have the papers, Fanfar?" asked Gudel, in a whisper.
+
+"Yes--I have them."
+
+"Then let us start at once."
+
+Caillette, without the smallest hesitation, sprang on Fanfar's horse.
+
+"And you, Bobichel?"
+
+"Don't be troubled about me!"
+
+"Hark!" cried Fanfar.
+
+They listened, and heard distinctly the tread of horses in the distance.
+
+"The police!" said Bobichel.
+
+"They have lost no time, at all events!" And Gudel laughed. "But we have
+the advantage, and I know a cross-road which will cut off a good bit."
+
+The two horses stepped gingerly out of Schwann's premises, and when once
+on the high road dashed madly forward. The inn was wrapped in silence
+and almost in darkness--only one room was lighted, the one where the
+Marquis sat, impatient and anxious. He, too, heard the horses galloping.
+His plan had succeeded, then. In a few minutes the house would be
+surrounded.
+
+A group of horsemen suddenly appeared on the Square. Robeccal and
+Cyprien were with them.
+
+When Robeccal went away, he had taken the precaution to leave a window
+open on the lower floor, which Schwann had not discovered in making his
+rounds for the night.
+
+Robeccal entered through this window and opened the door.
+
+Schwann was aroused by footsteps below, and rushed down the stairs.
+Seeing the police in uniform, he uttered an exclamation.
+
+"The police in my house!" he cried.
+
+"I ask your pardon, sir," answered the Brigadier of police, "but there
+was urgent need. In the name of the king!"
+
+Schwann repeated the words with a sigh.
+
+"You have conspirators lodging here--enemies of the monarchy!"
+
+"You are greatly mistaken, Brigadier--"
+
+"Not so. Their names are Gudel and Fanfar."
+
+Schwann laughed. "That is ridiculous!" he said.
+
+"That may be, but I have orders to arrest these men! Where are they?"
+
+"I will show you!" said Robeccal, quickly. The door of the chamber was
+locked.
+
+"Break it in!" cried Robeccal.
+
+"Wait! Law before all else." And standing in a military attitude, the
+Brigadier shouted: "In the name of the king, open!"
+
+As may be supposed, there was no reply. Then, with his shoulder, the
+Brigadier burst it open.
+
+"Gone!" roared Robeccal, and looking round he quickly espied the
+improvised rope at the window, and flew down the stairs.
+
+Cyprien drew the Brigadier aside. "Spare no exertion. The fate of France
+depends on you, now!" he said.
+
+The Brigadier became immensely important on hearing these words. He took
+a lantern and hunted for traces of the fugitives.
+
+"This way!" cried Robeccal, "they have made their escape toward the
+forest."
+
+"I know every inch of the forest," answered the Brigadier, waving his
+sword, as if he were about to attack an enemy.
+
+Cyprien stood biting his lips. Could it be that Fanfar was to escape him
+now? The police rode off at a rapid pace, and Cyprien felt that they
+must overtake the fugitives.
+
+About two miles from the village the road wound round a hill, on one
+side of which was a deep precipice. Day was breaking, and Robeccal, who
+of course had joined in the pursuit, rose in his stirrups in hopes to
+see some sign of the men they were pursuing.
+
+Suddenly one of the horses fell, then the one behind meeting with the
+same obstacle, fell also, until five out of the seven were on the
+ground.
+
+"It is a rope!" cried the Brigadier, "a rope stretched across the
+road--the rascals!"
+
+The men who were in their saddles leaped to the ground and endeavored to
+assist their comrades, one of whom had a leg broken.
+
+Robeccal stamped with rage.
+
+"Halloo!" cried a voice, "you had best meddle with honest people
+again!" And Bobichel, standing on the side of the road, danced with
+glee.
+
+"You shall pay for that!" shouted Robeccal, and snatching a pistol from
+the belt of one of the police, he fired at Bobichel.
+
+The clown flung out his arms. "They are saved, at all events!" he
+shouted, as he disappeared, falling into the abyss at his feet.
+
+Fanfar and Gudel were far away. Poor Bobichel!
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIII.
+
+FRANCE--1824.
+
+
+The 29th of February, 1824, was a Sunday, and a fete day. At that time
+the Carnival was in full blast, and the streets were crowded with
+curious spectators. A carriage drew up before a fashionable restaurant
+in the Palais Royal. The carriage was driven by a coachman wearing a
+powdered wig, and the horses were magnificent. Three young men with
+cigars in their mouths descended from the carriage, and took the path
+that led to the garden.
+
+They were wrapped in Venetian cloaks and each wore on his shoulder knots
+of ribbon, different in hue, and each concealed his face under a white
+satin mask, to which mask the police made no objection, as it was a sign
+of high birth and nobility.
+
+These young men laughed when they found they were to pass through a
+double row of spectators, to whose jokes they replied in kind.
+
+Lights were beginning to twinkle among the trees when they established
+themselves at a table in the cafe.
+
+"I am thankful to say," exclaimed one of the young men, "that the
+Carnival is nearly over."
+
+"Fernando is right," said one of the two others. "We have been out now
+for two hours, and we have not had the smallest adventure."
+
+"Pshaw!" answered the third youth, who was called Arthur by his friends,
+"we have a long evening before us, and it would be odd if we did not
+find some excitement and could not create a little scandal!"
+
+Of these three young men one was named Arthur de Montferrand; his father
+had made himself a name in the Chamber of Peers by defending the
+assassins of Marshal Brune; the other, Gaston de Ferrette, was a great
+duelist, although not more than twenty-four, and belonged to the best
+blood in France.
+
+The third was less known in Paris. He was an Italian who was traveling
+in France. His name was Fernando de Vellebri. He came with letters from
+princes and ambassadors, which opened to him the first hotels in the
+Faubourg. This was the time when the word "dandy" began to be used, and
+these three aspired to the title.
+
+"Where is Frederic?" said one. "Would he fail us now?"
+
+"Of course not. Besides, he wrote to me to say that he was to go with
+Mademoiselle de Salves to witness some ceremony at Notre Dame!"
+
+"Poor Frederic!"
+
+"He is not so much to be pitied, if you please, for Mademoiselle de
+Salves is a most charming person."
+
+"But does he love her? That is the question."
+
+"It seems to me that you take a great deal of interest in my private
+affairs, gentlemen!" said a clear voice behind them.
+
+"Frederic! Frederic, at last!"
+
+"Yes, Frederic, who has been listening to you for some minutes, and who
+thinks you a little venturesome in your remarks."
+
+He whom these young men greeted as Frederic wore no mask. His costume
+was what in 1824 was regarded as the height of elegance. His friends
+looked at him with admiration and envy, audibly regretting that they had
+appeared in mask and costume.
+
+"Then go and take them off," said Frederic. "I will wait for you here,
+or, better still, you may stop for me an hour later at the _Mille
+Colonnes_."
+
+Frederic was left alone. He was a youth of about twenty, but looked
+older. Heavy brows shaded deep-set eyes, his shoulders were square, with
+a slight deformity of the spine. His name was Frederic de Talizac.
+
+Ten years had elapsed since the son of Magdalena scorned and insulted
+France. We shall soon discover if the man fulfilled the promise of his
+childhood.
+
+The Vicomte left the rotunda, and putting up his eyeglasses, began to
+examine the crowd in the garden.
+
+The Palais Royal was at that time the central point of Paris, and served
+as a rendezvous for everybody. Each cafe had its special customers. The
+Bonapartists went to one, foreigners to another--the _Mille
+Colonnes_--speculators to the _Cafe de Fois_, and so on. The _Cafe de
+Valois_ was frequented by military men, the survivors of the great
+Revolution, and it was also believed that it was a resort of the
+Republicans. Wonder was frequently expressed that the police had not
+suppressed this scandal. It was toward this cafe that the Vicomte now
+took his way. Hardly had he passed the gallery than he was attracted by
+a group of young men earnestly conversing together. Frederic watched
+them a moment, and then went up to them. He touched one of the men on
+his shoulder, saying:
+
+"Will you grant me a few minutes' conversation, sir?"
+
+The young man to whom this question was addressed was about twenty-five.
+His regular features indicated great determination. He looked at Talizac
+for a moment, and then replied, very coldly:
+
+"I am at your service, sir."
+
+The two men then walked into an almost deserted street.
+
+"I first wish to know your name," said the Vicomte. "I am Frederic de
+Talizac."
+
+"As I am well aware."
+
+"And I wish to know your name that I may know also, if I am to speak to
+you as to a gentleman, or strike you as I would a lacquey."
+
+The young man turned very pale, but with a calmness that was absolutely
+terrifying under the circumstances, he replied:
+
+"There can be nothing in common between us two."
+
+"I am to marry Mademoiselle de Salves in a month," said Talizac, between
+his close shut teeth. "Yesterday, at noon, you had the impertinence,
+when riding past her mother's hotel, to throw a bouquet over the garden
+wall."
+
+"Well?"
+
+"You probably have excellent reasons for concealing your name, but I
+give you fair warning that if you are again guilty of similar conduct,
+that your chastisement will be swift and sure!"
+
+The Vicomte stopped short, for the young man grasped him by the wrist
+with such strength that Frederic caught his breath in pain.
+
+The stranger spoke in a low, calm voice.
+
+"You have insulted me--wait!"
+
+He turned and called to his friends.
+
+"Gentlemen," he said, "this man has insulted me. Shall I fight him? He
+is the Vicomte de Talizac."
+
+One of the friends, who wore the ribbon of the Legion of Honor, replied:
+
+"You cannot fight with a Talizac!"
+
+The Vicomte uttered a cry of rage, but the other still held him firmly.
+
+"You see," he said, "we do not fight with people whom we do not respect.
+If you do not understand me, apply to your father for an explanation--he
+will give it to you. The day may come when you may have an opportunity
+of killing me--if you can. Now go--return to your shameful pleasures!"
+
+With features convulsed with rage the Vicomte, unable to speak, drew
+from his pocket a handful of cards, and flung them into the face of the
+unknown, who started forward, but one of his friends laid a restraining
+hand on his arm.
+
+"You do not belong to yourself!" he said, warningly.
+
+Talizac disappeared. As he was hurrying on, blind with anger, a voice
+cried:
+
+"Is this the way you keep your appointments?"
+
+It was the Italian, Fernando de Vellebri. He added, with a wink:
+
+"You ought to have killed that fellow. You know him?"
+
+"Very little."
+
+"He was concerned in that affair at Tivoli. You will tell me about it."
+
+The tone which the Italian employed was not pleasing to Frederic, who,
+glad to have found a new adversary, answered quickly:
+
+"I suppose you mean that I can tell you, if I choose. You seem to give
+me orders."
+
+"Suppose we sit down." And the Italian pointed to two chairs which were
+unoccupied. He seated himself at once.
+
+"My dear Vicomte," he said, serenely, "it seems to me that, situated as
+we are, there should be no misunderstanding or quarrel between us."
+
+"How do you mean?"
+
+"I mean what you seem to have forgotten, that yesterday, in a moment of
+absent-mindedness, you signed a certain paper with a name that was not
+your own."
+
+The Vicomte turned very pale.
+
+"How did you know this?" he stammered.
+
+The Italian took out an elegant little pocketbook.
+
+"Here it is," he said, opening a paper bearing the royal mark.
+
+"But how did it come into your hands?"
+
+"In a very simple way--I bought it."
+
+"You--and for what reason?"
+
+"Can you not suppose that my only motive was to render you a service?"
+
+The Vicomte shrugged his shoulders.
+
+"You are right," answered Fernando, in reply to this mute protest. "I
+have another reason. I do not wish the Vicomte de Talizac to come to
+grief because my fortune is intimately connected with his--because his
+father, the Marquis de Fongereues, has rendered and will render great
+services to a cause that is mine. You must promise me to be guilty of no
+more imprudences like this."
+
+"Do you mean to give me that paper?"
+
+"No, it is not altogether mine; those who retain an interest in it can
+alone surrender it to you."
+
+"And who are those persons?"
+
+"Friends, defenders of the Monarchy and of Religion. But we will say no
+more on this trifle now. I merely wished to prove to you that I had a
+right to your confidence. Resume your story, and tell me why you hate
+this man whom you just now provoked."
+
+This trifle, as the Italian called it, could place the Vicomte at the
+criminals' bar, as both men well knew, but Frederic deemed it advisable
+not to insist. He suspected the truth, and had long since decided that
+the Italian belonged to the mysterious association. It was enough for
+him that the danger was momentarily averted.
+
+"Very well," said Talizac, "you were speaking of Tivoli. The crowd was
+very great at the fete, the fireworks were going on, at that moment the
+king's arms were exhibited. Suddenly there was a grand excitement; part
+of the scaffolding gave way. Mademoiselle de Salves in her fright
+dropped my arm and began to run. I saw a great timber falling and
+believed she was lost. I could not reach her. A man emerged from the
+crowd, and with incredible strength seized this timber and eased it to
+the ground. She fainted, and when the crowd permitted me to reach her
+side, this young man was holding her in his arms. She opened her eyes,
+and I am certain that this man was no stranger to her. When, however, we
+all gathered about her, the unknown bowed respectfully and vanished. I
+noticed, however, that this romantic cavalier carried away with him a
+ribbon from the dress of the young lady--only a ribbon. I told Irene of
+this impertinence; she did not even condescend to answer me."
+
+"But the Paladin did not long content himself with this silent homage, I
+presume?"
+
+"Women are idiots, you know, and this man now passes Irene's windows
+daily, and even throws flowers over the garden wall; and this woman, who
+is to be my wife, stands behind the curtain and watches for his coming.
+This my own eyes have seen, and I have come to the conclusion that it
+has gone on long enough--"
+
+"Ah! and you wish to get rid of this gallant. The matter ought to be
+easy enough."
+
+"Yes, one would think so. I have kept my valet on the watch, and
+discovered that he came every day to the _Cafe de Valois_ at this
+hour--"
+
+"My dear Talizac, I can put an end to all your difficulties. If
+Mademoiselle de Salves has built up a pretty romance, I can banish her
+dreams by telling her the name of her lover. Your rival, my dear fellow,
+is or was rather, a mountebank, and his name is Fanfar."
+
+The Vicomte laughed long and loud.
+
+"Upon my word!" he exclaimed, as soon as he could speak, "I should have
+made a fool of myself, had I fought a duel with the fellow! But do the
+men who are with him know who he is?"
+
+"Certainly. They know perfectly well. And yet shake hands with him! They
+call him their friend."
+
+The Italian could stand no more of this. He rose from his chair. "Come,"
+he said, "this is the Carnival, let us end the day merrily."
+
+"I should be only too glad to do so," was the Vicomte's reply, "anything
+to make me forget the disagreeable scene with that man!"
+
+The Vicomte called the contumely heaped on his father's name and his
+own, "a disagreeable scene."
+
+The two young men sauntered across the garden. Just as they reached the
+fountain, Frederic stopped.
+
+"What is it?" asked the Italian.
+
+A young girl was singing to a guitar. A curious crowd had gathered about
+her. She was a pretty creature; her brown curls were covered by a
+handkerchief of white wool, her face was perfect in shape and in
+coloring, her eyes were dark--gay, but at the same time innocent.
+
+She accompanied herself on a guitar as she sang, and her voice was so
+delicious that the crowd clamored for more. The girl bowed her thanks,
+and extended the back of her guitar for money. She colored deeply as she
+did so. When she reached Frederic, he said, in a whisper, as he laid a
+gold piece on the instrument, "You are alone to-day."
+
+She started, looked up quickly, and passed on.
+
+"The 'Marquise' is in a lofty mood," said the Italian, stooping as he
+spoke, and picking the gold piece from the ground. "Take it, Vicomte, it
+is yours, since she would have none of it."
+
+Frederic uttered a sullen oath.
+
+"And this has been going on for two months!" Fernando laughed, as he
+stated this as a fact, "and every day the Marquise--by the way, why is
+she called by that name!--repels the homage of the Vicomte!"
+
+"Do you spend all your time watching me, Fernando? Take care, patience
+has its limits!"
+
+"I am glad to hear it. You bear too much from this girl!"
+
+Frederic caught his arm. "Listen to me, Fernando, my brain reels with
+mad projects. Help me to avenge myself on Fanfar--help me to carry off
+this girl, and I belong to you, body and soul!"
+
+"Well said!" answered the Italian, "as the bargain is concluded, suppose
+we go to dinner?"
+
+"But this girl?"
+
+"We will talk of her to-night, and I am quite sure you will have no
+reason to complain of me!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIV.
+
+THE MARQUISE.
+
+
+Forty-eight hours have elapsed since the scenes we have described in the
+last chapter, and the day is Mardi Gras. Opposite the Cafe Turc, which
+in 1824 had a European reputation, stood a house of squalid appearance,
+inhabited, because of the low rent at which rooms could be obtained, by
+a number of modest tradespeople, who for the greater part of the year
+carried on the numerous booths on the Square.
+
+Before describing this picturesque corner of old Paris, unknown to the
+present generation, we will enter this house to which we have alluded,
+and which bore the number 42 of the Boulevard du Temple. In a room on
+the fifth floor, the girl who was called the Marquise was finishing her
+toilette before the mirror. A poor little room enough, with its faded
+wall paper, its narrow bed pushed into the corner, its two chairs and
+pine table. The window closed but imperfectly, and the wind blew out the
+curtain like a sail. Colored prints were fastened against the wall, and
+everything was exquisitely clean. A white napkin was spread upon the
+table, and the bed had snowy curtains. The mirror at this moment was
+worth more than any from Venice, for it reflected a charming Greuze-like
+face.
+
+The singer was twisting up her rebellious curls, and endeavoring to
+bring her hair into some kind of order. Her complexion was exquisite,
+her big dark eyes were full of sunshine, and her lips were beautiful and
+fresh. She fastened on her muslin cap, and then the graceful hands
+fluttered about her dress arranging that also.
+
+Suddenly a deep sigh, apparently from the next room, reached her ear.
+She ran to the communicating door, and, opening it cautiously, looked
+in.
+
+"Poor woman!" she said to herself, "she is awake. I wonder if she
+suffers still."
+
+Then a voice called, "Cinette! little Cinette!"
+
+"How strange!" said the girl, "when I hear her speak that name, it seems
+to me the voice is familiar."
+
+"Come, Cinette!"
+
+This time the girl entered the room. She beheld a woman vainly seeking
+to raise herself in her bed.
+
+Her face was hideously scarred and seared, while the bloodshot eyes
+could not endure the light. It was clear that the poor creature had been
+the victim of a horrible accident.
+
+"I am thirsty," she faintly articulated.
+
+"Yes, mamma," answered the girl who was called Cinette.
+
+And the woman smiled. She was mad in addition to her helplessness. No
+one knew who she was, nor whence she came.
+
+The reader has recognized in the girl who ministered to her needs,
+little Cinette, the child of Simon Fougere and Francoise. She had run
+distractedly through those subterranean vaults when she lost Jacques,
+and finally escaped from the labyrinth to fall into the hands of those
+people whom Hugo has immortalized.
+
+These people--a husband, wife and children--were pillaging the dead on a
+battle-field, but when Cinette appeared they smiled upon her.
+
+The little girl could give no explanation as to why she was thus alone
+and deserted. To all questions she could only reply by the words "papa
+Simon," and "mamma Francoise." Of course this was too indefinite for
+these people to act upon; besides, at that time they had much to do--the
+invasion promised them much spoil. They took Cinette away, and after the
+peace they continued to keep her. They had amassed quite a little
+property, and bought a farm in Blaisois. Cinette was happy in these
+days, for she was too young to remember her woes.
+
+In the village there was an old soldier whose violin and songs had often
+enlivened the bivouac. He soon discovered that Cinette, for she still
+went by that name, possessed a wonderful voice. He took it into his head
+to start a musical school; he had three pupils, only two of which paid a
+sou; on the third, Cinette, he built many projects. He was making
+arrangements to transport his pupil to a wider stage, when an epidemic
+broke out in the village, and the girl was left alone in the world.
+
+The "Good Sisters" offered her a home in the convent, but she had always
+been accustomed to the open air, to flowers that nodded a welcome to her
+as she passed, and to sunshine, and was afraid of the cloister, of its
+dimness, and of watchful eyes.
+
+She finally took her departure, and begged her way to Paris. Some one
+gave her an old guitar that had been left behind by some wanderer, which
+the child had gazed at with longing eyes. She escaped the many snares
+that were laid for her, and finally found shelter in a house where only
+the very poor lived, but they were all honest, industrious people. She
+obtained the necessary permission to sing on the street, and then had
+another idea. In the part of the city where she lived there was a great
+deal of poverty, and she undertook the care of a poor woman, she was so
+confident in her ability to make money.
+
+"But the person you propose to take care of has been dreadfully
+disfigured, and is unpleasant to look upon," said one of the neighbors.
+
+The child asked to be told all that was known of the unfortunate
+creature.
+
+She had been found among the mountains long before, and the people who
+had found her were dead, but she was still taken care of by these kind,
+good creatures who, however, found the burthen a heavy one.
+
+Francine went to see this poor creature. There was a long silence, the
+girl seemed to hesitate, then, suddenly, she stooped and kissed her.
+
+"Will you go with me, mamma?" she said.
+
+Why did she use the word mamma? She could not have told herself, and yet
+this woman was really her mother. Yes, this unfortunate, this mad woman
+was Francoise, the wife of Simon. After the agony of that fearful night,
+she lost her memory and her reason. She did not know how she had
+escaped, and yet she was here and restored to her child. Fate had
+brought the two together. Mother and daughter were alike victims of the
+Talizacs.
+
+Francine took this woman, whom she had volunteered to support, and
+installed her next her own room. Day and night she watched over her with
+a solicitude that was absolutely filial.
+
+The elder woman was happy only when Cinette was with her, and when the
+girl was away, she repeated the name over and over.
+
+Francine worked hard. She now had her regular audiences, and could be
+heard at certain places at certain hours. Her programmes were regularly
+made out. The name that had been given her of the Marquise was not given
+unkindly. She was neither vain nor proud, but she wore her simple woolen
+gown in such a dainty fashion, and put the little kerchief on her head
+in such a way, that the people called her the Marquise. But to return to
+our tale.
+
+"I am going out, mamma," said Francine, "and you will be very good while
+I am away, will you not?"
+
+"Yes, Cinette--yes."
+
+"You will not try to get up?"
+
+"No, Cinette."
+
+"And to-morrow you shall have a pretty new cap--"
+
+"With ribbons?"
+
+"Yes, with ribbons."
+
+The woman laughed with delight, but presently she uttered a cry of
+distress.
+
+"The box! the box!--where is the box?"
+
+Francine had heard this same exclamation over and over again, and
+attached no significance to it, but to humor the invalid, she answered:
+
+"Oh! you shall have the box."
+
+"Yes, I must have it. Everything is in it--fortune, money, titles. Where
+have I put it?"
+
+Her voice dropped so low that Francine could hardly hear her.
+
+It was time for the girl to go out, and, as it was Mardi Gras, she hoped
+for large receipts. She returned to her chamber and took her guitar.
+Just as she was going out, she heard a knock on her door. She started,
+and called out:
+
+"Who is it?"
+
+"A friend?"
+
+"Your name?"
+
+"You do not know me."
+
+"Tell me your name."
+
+A stifled oath was the reply.
+
+"Open the door, I say. My name is Robeccal."
+
+The young girl drew a breath of relief, for she was becoming sorely
+frightened by the pursuit of the Vicomte, and an unusual knock made her
+feel that it was he. But the voice and the name of Robeccal
+tranquillized her fears. She opened the door--our old friend of the
+circus stood before her. He began to grumble and scold.
+
+"I beg your pardon," said the girl, gently, "but I am in haste, and
+if--"
+
+"Suppose you offer me a chair, young lady! What manners!"
+
+Francine repeated that she was in haste, and would be glad to know the
+occasion of his visit. Her manner was so decided that Robeccal saw that
+he must speak.
+
+"I have come," he said, "to put you in the way of earning a little
+money."
+
+"Go on."
+
+"I assist in restaurants on fete days. I am an 'extra,' you understand,
+and am now at the _Veau Saute_, at the corner. You know--"
+
+"I know the establishment, certainly."
+
+"Well, the master wishes to give a little entertainment to his customers
+to-night, and I thought of you. He will give you twenty francs."
+
+Twenty francs! It was quite a fortune to the child, and yet she
+hesitated.
+
+"Did the master give you no note for me?" she asked, at length.
+
+"How suspicious you are! What are you afraid of!"
+
+"Nothing. I will call at the restaurant now, when I go out."
+
+"You must decide now, for if you decline I am to go for the man who has
+no arms, but who sings so well."
+
+Robeccal showed her a card on which was written the girl's address and
+that of the armless singer.
+
+Francine's hesitation vanished--she accepted the proposition.
+
+"I will go," she said, "and at what hour?"
+
+"At eight o'clock, sharp," Robeccal replied.
+
+"And how long shall I be wanted?"
+
+A wicked light came into the man's eyes.
+
+"I don't know exactly--until ten or eleven, I suppose."
+
+"But I must be home before midnight."
+
+"Oh! of course; and if you are afraid to come alone, I am at your
+service. And now, good-bye."
+
+He ran lightly down the stairs. When he reached the street he looked
+around. A man wrapped in a large cloak, a disguise much employed at that
+time, and wearing a broad-brimmed hat, approached him.
+
+"Well?" he said, quickly.
+
+"It is all right!" answered Robeccal. "She will come."
+
+This man, who was none other than Fernando, the worthy friend of the
+Vicomte de Talizac, now slipped a gold piece into the scoundrel's hand.
+
+"Twenty louis more," he said, "when the affair is accomplished!"
+
+"Very good, sir. When I undertake anything, it is sure, let me tell you.
+La Roulante will see to everything."
+
+The two men separated.
+
+While these two accomplices were talking, Francine had reached the
+Square where she was to sing.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXV.
+
+THE VEAU SAUTE.
+
+
+"Hurry up, Perrette! How about that sauce? Have you forgotten the
+parsley?"
+
+And the proprietor of the _Veau Saute_ tore about in the most distracted
+manner. Aube had dreamed of vast rooms and huge kitchens, but the
+obstinacy of the people already living in the same building could not be
+conquered, and as yet he had not obtained the space he desired. They
+resisted every offer and every threat he made. He could have borne it
+better had these refractory persons been tenants whose vicinity added
+_eclat_ to his establishment. But it was not so. These tenants were a
+man known as Iron Jaws, a rope dancer called Fanfar, a girl named
+Caillette, and a clown with an odd name.
+
+This Fanfar gave lessons in prestigiation, but the people who went up
+his private stairs were well dressed, and most of them looked like old
+soldiers.
+
+While Aube was worrying about these matters and many more, a carriage
+drove up to the door of the restaurant, and three gentlemen got out.
+These were Frederic de Talizac, Fernando de Vellebri, and Arthur de
+Montferrand, the duelist, all strangely alike in their lack of moral
+sense and in their cynicism, neither of them hesitating to do anything,
+however evil, to gratify their passions. Room No. 11 was ready for
+these gentlemen. The waiter took their cloaks and hats. Arthur threw
+himself on a sofa, and announced that there was to be no heavy talk
+until the dessert came on.
+
+"Bravo!" said Fernando. "But perhaps you would kindly define what you
+mean by heavy talk? As for you, Frederic, I think you had an interview
+with your father to-day?"
+
+"Champagne!" shouted Frederic, flinging his glass at the door, an
+original manner of summoning a waiter, which he had invented.
+
+"Yes," he replied, "and the Marquis is resolved that the marriage shall
+take place in a fortnight--as if I had not other fish to fry!"
+
+"But it seems to me," said Arthur, "that a union so desirable in every
+respect, a fortune so large--"
+
+"Do you mean to insinuate, sir, that a fortune is essential?" asked
+Frederic, haughtily.
+
+Here the Italian interfered, and smoothed down the Vicomte's asperities.
+
+At this moment a fresh, young voice rose from the lower room, which was
+crowded, and when the voice ceased there came loud applause.
+
+"That is a charming voice!" said Arthur. "I would like to see this
+nightingale a little nearer."
+
+"And why not?" asked Talizac.
+
+Fernando wished to oppose this idea, which might disarrange his
+carefully prepared plans, but the champagne had by this time affected
+the Vicomte.
+
+"I say," he persisted, angrily, "I do not see any objection. I for one
+should like to hear the girl sing up here before the adventure."
+
+"The adventure?" repeated Montferrand.
+
+"A little surprise we have arranged for her--that is all."
+
+Arthur looked bewildered, and then exclaimed:
+
+"Ah! I see. Bravo!--call the proprietor, and bid him send the singer to
+us."
+
+"Gentlemen! gentlemen!" said Fernando, "be careful what you do. No
+imprudences! Remember that you are not in the Palais Royal. The people
+down stairs won't stand any nonsense!"
+
+Frederic rang the bell furiously, and the waiter was sent for the
+proprietor. Aube presently appeared. He was very obsequious in his
+manner, for the party had ordered bottle after bottle of champagne.
+
+"Who is that girl singing to the people in the cafe?" asked Frederic,
+abruptly.
+
+"She is called the Marquise, sir--a pretty little creature, and as good
+as she is pretty!"
+
+"I dare say! Now send her up here, and tell the waiter to bring up three
+more bottles of your best champagne."
+
+Aube stood still, twisting his cap in his hands.
+
+"Well?" said Frederic, "why don't you go?"
+
+"I wish to say, sir, that the girl is very respectable."
+
+"We don't doubt it. We will pay her for her song--three louis, five--is
+that enough?"
+
+Aube felt that he had no right to deprive the girl of this money, and it
+was more than probable that these young fellows were not as wild as they
+seemed. Fernando's calm superciliousness reassured him in some degree.
+
+"Are you going?" asked Frederic, somewhat rudely.
+
+Aube reluctantly left the room.
+
+The restaurant was filled with customers, all respectable people with
+the exception of those seated around a table in the further corner of
+the room--they were doubtful in appearance. When Robeccal, in the
+discharge of his duties as "extra," came to this table he lingered
+there, even drinking a glass of wine, first taking care that his
+employer could not see him.
+
+Aube, greatly disturbed by the orders he had received, returned to the
+dining-room just as the Marquise was making her rounds to collect the
+money that was laid on the back of her guitar. Aube touched her
+shoulder.
+
+"I want to speak to you, petite," he said, as he drew her into a corner.
+"You are not rich, I fancy?"
+
+"I should say not!" And Francine laughed. "What a queer thing to say!"
+
+"I have a proposal to make."
+
+"And what may that be?"
+
+Aube's kindly face inspired the girl with no distrust. He hesitated.
+
+"You know," he said, "that I have no advice to give, but if you choose,
+you can make five louis."
+
+"A hundred francs! You are jesting!"
+
+"And only by singing two or three songs."
+
+"But that would be better pay than the opera singers receive!"
+
+"That may be!"
+
+"But where am I to sing?"
+
+"Here--on the next floor."
+
+"Hallo! ambassador, are you never coming?" shouted Montferrand from the
+top of the stairs.
+
+Francine started.
+
+"They are young men, are they not?"
+
+"Yes, but you need not be alarmed--they are only a little gay."
+
+A hundred francs was a good deal of money. She could buy an easy chair
+for the poor invalid, and give her a little treat.
+
+"Well?" asked Aube, who would have been glad had she refused.
+
+"I accept," she answered, "but you must not go far away. You must be
+near in case I should call."
+
+"All right. No harm shall come to you in my house, let me tell you."
+
+The girl went toward the stairs.
+
+"What does that mean?" said one of the men at the table at the end of
+the room. "The linnet seems to be going of her own free will!"
+
+"Silence!" said Robeccal, passing the table. "Watch and be ready!"
+
+Meanwhile the people in the restaurant began to grumble at Francine's
+departure. She looked back from the stairs.
+
+"Have a little patience," she said, with her lovely smile, "when I come
+back very shortly, I will sing you my best songs."
+
+She followed Aube to No. 11. The proprietor was astonished to see that
+the door was open, and that one of the gentlemen had vanished.
+
+Arthur and Fernando were there. Francine had seen the Italian before in
+the street, but Arthur was entirely unknown to her.
+
+"I hope, Mademoiselle, you will sing us something," said Montferrand,
+politely.
+
+Our readers will notice that this young man's instincts were not bad,
+and when removed from Frederic's influence, they resumed their
+ascendancy. The girl's gentle manner, her refined, pure face commended
+his respect.
+
+Aube, now quite reassured, hastened back to his duties below.
+
+Francine began a prelude to a simple song, when suddenly she stopped,
+her guitar slipped from her hands. She saw Frederic de Talizac gliding
+into the room.
+
+"Go on, _ma belle_" he said, "surely you are not afraid of me!" And he
+tried to take her by the waist.
+
+"No," she replied, "I shall sing no more."
+
+Frederic, though very tipsy, threw himself in front of the door.
+
+"Yes, you will sing, and for each one of your sweet notes I will give
+you a kiss."
+
+The girl drew back from his extended arms, and turning to the two men
+who stood looking on, she cried, with infinite contempt:
+
+"Cowards! will neither of you interfere to prevent a woman from being
+insulted?"
+
+Arthur's heart was stirred by this appeal.
+
+"You are right," he replied. "Come, Frederic, no more of this!"
+
+"Are you talking to me?" hiccoughed Frederic. "Take her from me if you
+dare!" And he put his arm around her.
+
+"Help!" cried Francine. "Help!"
+
+At the same moment, Frederic received a tremendous blow from
+Montferrand.
+
+The Vicomte snatched a knife from the table, and the two men engaged in
+a hand to hand contest.
+
+Francine was so terrified that she could not move.
+
+Why had not Aube heard this noise? We will return to the lower floor.
+
+Robeccal was disgusted when he saw Francine go up-stairs. He felt that
+the ground was cut from under his feet, and that he was to lose the
+reward he had been promised. He stole partly up the stairs and listened.
+He went on, and when the quarrel burst out and he saw the knife in the
+hand of the Vicomte, he rushed down the stairs, and summoned the men at
+the table, who were on the watch for a signal from him.
+
+Aube had heard Francine's cry and ran to her aid, but two of the men
+summoned by Robeccal stood before the door.
+
+"Let me pass!" cried Aube.
+
+"Softly, good sir," was the reply. "Don't meddle in what does not
+concern you."
+
+Furious at being thus braved in his own establishment, Aube thrust the
+men aside, but was driven back by repeated blows.
+
+He turned to his customers.
+
+"Gentlemen!" he cried, "they are insulting a poor girl up-stairs. Help
+me to save her; it is the Marquise--the singer!"
+
+A number of men started up at this appeal.
+
+The two bandits stood on the stairs with knives in their hands, and feet
+and hands ready to repel any one who attempted to ascend the stairs.
+
+"Help! Murder!" shouted Aube.
+
+Women screamed, and clung to the arms of their husbands to prevent them
+from taking part in the contest. Others, less courageous, threw bottles
+and glasses at the scoundrels who promptly returned them.
+
+In the meantime, Arthur had thrown Frederic on the floor. Fernando
+endeavored to separate them, but they were no more amenable to reason
+than if they had been wild beasts.
+
+Pale and trembling, Francine leaned against the wall. Robeccal went to
+her.
+
+"Mademoiselle," he said, "this is not my fault. Why did you come up
+here?"
+
+"Why did I?" she repeated in agony.
+
+"I got you into this trouble unintentionally, and now I must get you
+out!"
+
+She did not distrust him, she was too good for that.
+
+"Follow me!" said Robeccal. "I know a way into the street. No one will
+see you."
+
+Arthur and Frederic were still fighting; the tumult below had not
+decreased.
+
+Robeccal took the girl's hand, and led her to the door which opened into
+the private apartments of Aube. They passed through these until they
+reached another flight of stairs. Down these the girl ran, closely
+followed by Robeccal. They went out through a narrow alley. Suddenly,
+Francine heard a whistle, and she was seized, a handkerchief over her
+head stifled her cries, and she felt that she was being carried away by
+vigorous arms.
+
+"Well done!" said Robeccal, "and now for La Roulante!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVI.
+
+A MAN CHASE.
+
+
+When the men on the stairs heard the whistle blown by Robeccal, they
+rushed through the crowd brandishing their knives. They disappeared in
+the street.
+
+Aube hurried up-stairs. Francine had disappeared. Fernando had finally
+succeeded in separating the combatants, and pushed Frederic out of the
+door.
+
+Arthur, foaming with rage, called out to Aube:
+
+"Make haste, the girl has been carried off by the order of these people!
+I know what I say!"
+
+Aube hastened to his private rooms; he found the door that led to the
+stairs unlocked and open.
+
+"What scoundrels they are!" cried Aube.
+
+"Yes," answered Montferrand, "but scoundrels who bear the best names in
+France--one is the Vicomte de Talizac, son of the Marquis de
+Fongereues."
+
+A young man suddenly appeared on the stairs.
+
+"Who speaks of Talizac and de Fongereues?" he asked.
+
+"Ah! Monsieur Fanfar! heaven has sent you to my assistance. My
+establishment is ruined, but that is nothing to the ruin of this poor
+girl!"
+
+"What poor girl?" asked Fanfar. "Pray explain yourself, Monsieur Aube."
+
+Montferrand had heard that this Fanfar was only a rope-dancer; but his
+air and manner, his dress, too, proclaimed him to hold a very different
+position, and he was greatly attracted by his appearance.
+
+"It is a disgraceful piece of business, sir," he answered, "in which, I
+am sorry to say, I am in a measure concerned;--the Vicomte de Talizac--"
+
+"I knew it!" murmured Fanfar.
+
+"And his friend, Fernando de Vellebri--"
+
+"The Italian spy, who betrayed his brothers, the Carbonari, and is now
+the slave of the Jesuits."
+
+"All of which I knew nothing of; but at all events these two men, whom I
+have called my friends, to my shame, have carried off a young girl, a
+street singer--
+
+"A most odious crime; but have you any idea where they have taken her?"
+
+"No, not the slightest."
+
+"And this girl, has she no father, no mother?"
+
+"She is an orphan, and is called the Marquise."
+
+"Ah! but her real name? Where does she live?"
+
+"Only a little way from here, but a man named Robeccal can tell you
+exactly."
+
+"Robeccal! A miserable scoundrel!"
+
+"You know him then?"
+
+"Only too well!"
+
+"I know that the Marquise boards with a woman who is bed-ridden, and I
+remember that she is sometimes spoken of as Cinette, or Francine."
+
+"Cinette!" cried Fanfar, "how old is she!"
+
+"Fifteen or sixteen, I should say."
+
+"Merciful Heavens! Can it be she! Am I going mad?"
+
+"What are you saying, sir?" and Montferrand seemed to feel a real
+interest.
+
+"You can't understand, but I shall save her. If I chance to meet that
+Talizac, I will crush him as I would a venomous reptile!"
+
+"You are going in pursuit of the girl?" asked Aube.
+
+"Most certainly, nor will I rest until I have rescued her!"
+
+"Accept my services," said Montferrand.
+
+"Where am I to turn? What shall I do first? My head is dizzy." He held
+himself more erect. "But this is no time to give way. Thank you, sir,
+for your generous offer, of which I may avail myself later."
+
+"I regret to have seemed, even for a moment, the accomplice of these
+men. My name is Arthur, son of the Marquis de Montferrand. Here is my
+card."
+
+Fanfar took the bit of shining pasteboard.
+
+"And here is my hand!" added Arthur.
+
+"And now," said Fanfar, after a vigorous exchange of handshaking, "and
+now we have not a moment to lose!"
+
+There was another disturbance below. A great noise, and a voice
+shouting, "Open! in the name of the law!"
+
+Fanfar started.
+
+"At last!" cried Aube. "It is the police; probably by this time the men
+are arrested."
+
+Fanfar laid his hand on his shoulder, and said rapidly, "No, no; the
+police of Louis XVIII. do not disturb themselves for such trifles; they
+are after other game than criminals--"
+
+"Open, in the name of the king! If not, we force the door!"
+
+"These officers are in pursuit of men who have sworn eternal war against
+oppression and corruption--who detest a despotic monarchy and demand a
+free and honest republic!"
+
+"Do you speak of yourself?" asked Montferrand, quickly.
+
+Aube opened his eyes wide. Certainly, this was a most extraordinary
+evening!
+
+"You are lost!" cried Montferrand.
+
+"Not yet!" answered Fanfar. "Pray, Monsieur Aube, hold them in
+conversation, a few minutes. Good-bye, but remember that I shall rescue
+Francine." As he spoke, he ran lightly up the upper stairs.
+
+Aube, according to his instructions, slowly raised the bars of the door,
+at which the police were impatiently knocking. When at last the door was
+opened, a crowd poured in, headed by a Police Commissioner.
+
+"Keeping me waiting in this way will cost you dear, let me tell you!"
+foamed this important functionary.
+
+"But why are you here?" stammered the proprietor of the restaurant.
+
+"I don't suppose we are bound to tell you that, are we? But first, who
+is that man?" and he pointed to Arthur, who pale and covered with blood,
+was not especially reassuring in appearance.
+
+"That man, sir, of whom you speak so rudely," said Arthur, with some
+heat, "is the son of the Marquis de Montferrand."
+
+"I beg ten thousand pardons!" said the official, in the most obsequious
+tone, "but this house is a den--"
+
+"A den!" gasped Aube.
+
+"Yes, a den where the enemies of our beloved king plot together."
+
+"And who are these enemies? What may their names be?"
+
+"Gudel, or Iron Jaws, and a scoundrel named Fanfar."
+
+"Indeed! Very good, sir, if you have come to arrest these men, do not
+let me detain you!"
+
+Arthur and Aube exchanged a glance. Fanfar was by this time undoubtedly
+in safety.
+
+"The house is well watched," continued the Commissioner, "and they
+cannot escape our vigilance!"
+
+Montferrand started on hearing this. The Commissioner ran up-stairs,
+followed by his men. He reached the upper floor. An oath was heard.
+
+"The birds have flown!" he shouted.
+
+"They went by the roof!" some one called from below. This some one was
+Cyprien, who had been on guard in the street, and had seen forms against
+the sky.
+
+"To the roof, then! And remember your orders, take them alive or dead!"
+
+Cyprien, as agile as a tiger cat, now stood by the side of the
+Commissioner.
+
+"You must go out this way," he said, pointing to the window.
+
+"Zounds!" muttered the Commissioner, drawing back.
+
+"Take care!" sneered Cyprien, "the king has his eyes on you!"
+
+Thus cheered and encouraged, the Commissioner stepped out on the narrow
+cornice.
+
+"There they are!" cried Cyprien. "There they are! They wish to reach the
+next house. We shall have them! we shall have them!"
+
+Gudel and Fanfar had gone as far as they could. They found they must
+turn. Fanfar stopped short and seemed to be doing something to a
+chimney.
+
+"Surrender!" shouted the Commissioner, some distance off.
+
+"Surrender!" repeated Cyprien.
+
+At this moment a man was seen to vault into space; it was Fanfar, who
+had sprang across the gulf between the two houses. With him he had taken
+the end of the rope which he had fastened to the chimney. He held the
+rope so firmly that it made a bridge. Gudel began the perilous voyage.
+
+"At all events, we will have a dead body!" growled the Commissioner, who
+advanced to cut the rope.
+
+Cyprien did not at first understand.
+
+"Stop!" he shouted. "Stop!"
+
+To kill Gudel was ruin, for he was the only human being who could prove
+Fanfar's birth. But he was too late, the zealous Commissioner had cut
+the rope.
+
+"Fool!" shouted Cyprien, and then he listened to hear the dull thud of
+the body falling on the stones below.
+
+But he heard nothing, for Gudel had not fallen. By a movement more rapid
+than thought, Fanfar, divining what was to happen, had thrown himself
+flat on the roof with his arms extended beyond the gutter, and had
+shouted to Gudel:
+
+"Hold fast to the rope!"
+
+Iron Jaws snatched the rope between his formidable jaws, and when the
+rope was cut he simply hung and waited. Fanfar slowly drew him up. It
+was a magnificent display of energy and strength. And presently Fanfar
+and Gudel stood side by side.
+
+"Now, gentlemen, it is your turn," said Fanfar.
+
+"No! it is my turn!" shouted Cyprien, taking a pistol from his pocket
+and firing.
+
+The ball broke a slate which fell into the street. As to Gudel and
+Fanfar, they were far away and a high chimney hid them from view.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVII.
+
+A GHOST.
+
+
+Although our two friends had made their escape for the time being, they
+were by no means in an enviable position, for it must be confessed that
+midnight on the roof of an unknown house is not very delightful. Iron
+Jaws and Fanfar had accomplished a miracle of strength and audacity, but
+what were they to do next?
+
+"I must say that I should like a few hours of rest," said Gudel.
+
+"Yes, and we must have a little talk, but where I know not."
+
+Fanfar's tone struck his friend as being rather depressed.
+
+"What is it?" said Gudel. "You have had encounters with the police
+before, and will have again, I imagine."
+
+"It is not that; but first we will walk over these roofs, to the end."
+
+"Very good!"
+
+They started, Fanfar going a little in front. Suddenly he stopped.
+
+"Zounds!" he said, "here is a wide courtyard; it is impossible for us to
+cross it. We must get down now."
+
+"And how, for Heaven's sake!"
+
+"By taking hold of the gutters and the balconies."
+
+"One would suppose that we were gorillas," sighed Gudel.
+
+"We must do something!"
+
+"Yes, but I am a little heavy, as you have reason to acknowledge. How
+can we tell that guards are not below waiting for us. Let us see if we
+can't get into some window."
+
+"And find the room inhabited?"
+
+"Oh! I will explain that we don't mean to steal, but that we will give
+him money if he will aid us."
+
+"Very good. Now do you take the lead, I will follow."
+
+Fanfar was strangely preoccupied. While Gudel talked to him a voice was
+continually repeating in his ear:
+
+"Cinette! Cinette!"
+
+Gudel saw that there was something unusual going on in the mind of his
+friend. He had been long accustomed to unquestioning obedience to
+Fanfar. Ever since La Roulante left him after the attempt at
+assassination, Gudel had been a different man and subject to fits of
+great depression from which Fanfar alone could rouse him, and when
+Fanfar rushed into his room calling out, "The police! the police!" Gudel
+followed him without a question.
+
+Suddenly Gudel stumbled. Fanfar caught him, but it was too late. There
+was a crash of broken glass. Gudel had broken one of those small windows
+in the roof which landlords consider sufficient for tenants who pay only
+sixty francs per annum for their attics. And from this window emerged a
+long, strange, white object, which was probably a man, as it terminated
+in a white cotton nightcap. This strange form had two long arms. One
+hand held a candle and the other sheltered it from the wind. There was a
+yell of amazement from their throats.
+
+"Fanfar!"
+
+"Bobichel!"
+
+"I thought you were dead, Bobichel," said Iron Jaws, severely.
+
+"No, I am not dead; but I was asleep."
+
+"You are alone!"
+
+"Of course!"
+
+"Then you can take us in."
+
+Bobichel uttered an oath. "Of course I can!" he shouted.
+
+It was clear that he was not a ghost. Ghosts do not swear nor carry
+candles in their hands. Finally the three were seated in a small attic
+about four yards square. They all talked at once.
+
+How did Bobichel get there? Where had he been?
+
+He had been taken to the hospital and there detained on account of some
+peculiarities in his condition, which greatly excited the curiosity of
+the medical students. One day as Bobichel was recovering, he was in the
+garden and noticed a door in the wall, and saw that the gardener had
+left his key in it. He selected the moment judiciously, and finally
+found himself on the road to Paris, where he had arrived that very
+morning. He had not a sou, but he had rented this garret which the
+landlord had had on his hands for three months by reason of the rats,
+and therefore nobly refrained from asking money in advance. A bundle of
+straw had taken his remaining five sous, and on this the ex-clown
+extended himself, thinking of the past and resolutely closing his eyes
+to the future. His first care was to regain his strength, which had been
+sorely taxed by his journey. While half asleep, he had heard steps on
+the roof, and with a vague belief that the whole hospital force were in
+pursuit of him, he resolved to brave them. Fate had brought to him,
+however, his two best friends--Gudel and Fanfar.
+
+After they had heard this explanation, it became Bobichel's turn to
+question.
+
+"Let Fanfar tell you," said Gudel. "I really know nothing except that he
+bade me fly, that my neck has been nearly broken, and that he saved my
+life; but why I have been obliged to run about over roofs in this way, I
+really can't say."
+
+"Perhaps you are still conspiring?" asked Bobichel, innocently.
+
+Fanfar shouted with laughter. "Yes," he replied, "and more than ever!"
+
+"Tell me," asked the clown, "is it a difficult trade? I have nothing in
+the world to do, and I must have some occupation, of course."
+
+"We will see about that later."
+
+"You have said nothing about Mademoiselle Caillette."
+
+"She is in safety. She knew nothing of the pursuit of the police.
+To-morrow, before she begins to be uneasy, we will send her word where
+we are, and bid her come to us."
+
+The clock struck two.
+
+"Do you hear that, Bobichel?" said Fanfar. "You are far from strong, and
+must rest."
+
+"No, no. I have found you, and there is rest in that!"
+
+"My dear fellow, you must get yourself into the best possible condition
+if you join us. You will need your legs, I assure you. Sleep, Bobichel,
+sleep."
+
+The truth was that, in spite of his good intentions, Bobichel was dead
+with sleep, and presently he tumbled upon his mattress, and loud snores
+informed the two friends that he had succumbed to their entreaties.
+Then, and not until then, Fanfar leaned toward Gudel.
+
+"You will admit," he said, "that I do not easily become a prey to
+illusions, but the truth is, that I am greatly disturbed by something
+that has happened. Will you answer a few questions?"
+
+"Certainly, my boy--any questions."
+
+"You know, my second father, the strange accident by which I was thrown
+in your way. You have told me of the researches you made in the village
+of Leigoutte. You learned, did you not, that my mother perished in a
+fire?"
+
+"Yes--a fire set by the Cossacks."
+
+"And my father?"
+
+"Died on the field of battle, in the defence of France!"
+
+"I am haunted by a dim remembrance of a flight through the darkness,
+leading my little sister by my side, and then she seemed to vanish."
+
+"And you have never seen her since?"
+
+"No; but I have never forgotten her, and I am convinced that if she is
+living she has not forgotten her brother. Ah! when I think of all this,
+I hate more than ever the oppressors of France, who have opened a road
+to the throne over dead bodies!"
+
+"But why are you troubled with these thoughts to-day?"
+
+"I will tell you. My sister's name was Francine, but we called her
+Cinette, and this evening a girl was carried away by violence from the
+_Veau Saute_."
+
+"And that Aube has such a good face!"
+
+"Oh! he was not concerned in this villainy. The crime was committed by a
+man who has more than once crossed our path--the Vicomte de Talizac!"
+
+"Oh! what a family that is!" cried Gudel. "It was his lacquey, or his
+father's, who denounced us to-night!"
+
+"This is not all. The truth is, Gudel--you will probably think me
+mad--but I am convinced that the girl who was carried off--the one
+called Cinette--"
+
+"You mean that you believe her to be your--"
+
+"I can't reason," interrupted Fanfar. "It is the name of my little
+sister, and the conviction is unalterable that this girl is my sister.
+And now I can do nothing for her, and she in such deadly peril!" He
+stopped short. "Gudel," he exclaimed, "you have never seen me shrink
+from danger?"
+
+"Not I."
+
+"And yet, to-night I feel as weak as a child."
+
+Tears came into the eyes of Fanfar as he spoke. His nerves were
+thoroughly shaken by the exertions he had made to save Gudel and
+himself.
+
+Bobichel here lifted himself up.
+
+"Fanfar," he said, "let me help you!"
+
+At these kind words uttered by this honest, faithful voice, Fanfar
+started. He had no right to despair, he said to himself, when he had
+such friends.
+
+"You are right, Bobichel," he cried. "I have no right to talk of my
+energy, for I am trembling like a woman!"
+
+"I should like to tell you what I think, sir," the clown stammered,
+"though I do not wish to take a liberty, but didn't you say you thought
+you had found your sister?"
+
+"Oh! do not say that!"
+
+"Yes, I must say it, and I think it would be best if you made up your
+mind that it was she, and acted on that supposition."
+
+"I think you are right. I am told that this girl lives with a poor
+paralytic. I will go to her and question her. From her replies I shall
+be able to judge if chance has really put me on the track of her whom I
+lost so long ago. But we ought to follow these scoundrels at once!"
+
+"I will see to them!" said Iron Jaws.
+
+"Can you give me the smallest clue?"
+
+"Only that of Robeccal's name."
+
+"Robeccal's name!" exclaimed Bobichel. "If he has anything to do with
+this matter I will soon finish him up."
+
+Fanfar laid his hand on Gudel's shoulder.
+
+"My friend," he said, "I hesitate to touch an unhealed wound, but we
+must speak frankly to each other. La Roulante and this Robeccal went
+away together. This woman was thoroughly vicious; it is difficult to
+imagine the scale of vice to which she would not fall. I am sorry to
+pain you, but I feel sure if Robeccal has assisted in carrying away this
+girl that he has placed her with La Roulante. Therefore, while I go to
+see Cinette's sick friend, you will hunt up this woman and her
+accomplice. Will you do this, Gudel?"
+
+Gudel, whose face had been buried in his hands, now looked up.
+
+"Fanfar," he said, "were I to die of shame and grief, I will obey you,
+for I should be doing a good act."
+
+"This girl must be saved! I dare not indulge in the hope that she is
+Cinette, and, moreover, I need all my courage. Gudel, your hand.
+Bobichel, I rely on you!"
+
+These friends in a cordial grasp of their hands, exchanged a solemn oath
+which bound them to the sacred cause of justice.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVIII.
+
+CINETTE! CINETTE!
+
+
+Francine's chamber is dark. The little bed with its white curtains looks
+as if it were built of marble. There is not a sound. The room is empty.
+The hours pass on, and still Francine does not return. Her absence
+excites great wonder in the house, for she is always in very early.
+"Could anything have happened to her?" one person asked another, but not
+a voice breathed a word reflecting on the girl's purity. Had any one
+known where she had gone, some one would have started in search of her.
+The porter looked once more down the street; the clock had struck
+twelve. No one came.
+
+In the gray, chilly dawn, a hand slowly pushed open the door of
+Cinette's room. It is the mad woman. She instinctively knows that
+Francine never goes to sleep at night without kissing her. She has not
+felt those dewy lips touch her forehead this night. Restless and uneasy
+this sick woman, who for years has hardly left her bed, has crawled to
+Cinette's room. She is familiar with it, for she has many times implored
+Francine to take her there; and when the girl succeeded in doing so, the
+old woman laughed to see the curtains so white and the flowers so gay.
+
+She reaches the bed, and feels with her poor withered hands for the
+girl's head. Cinette is not there, and the poor creature realizes it and
+weeps in agony. She would have reminded one of an Hindoo idol had she
+been seen. An hour elapsed, but the poor deformed woman still lies
+there.
+
+Suddenly she raises her head. She hears rapid steps on the stairs. When
+Cinette went out she had locked the door of her room. The porter to be
+sure had another key. When some one knocked at the porter's lodge he was
+not yet up, and answered gruffly that the Marquise had not come in and
+the old woman could not move. There were several rapid knocks on the
+door.
+
+"Open! open!" a voice called.
+
+The voice had a strange, familiar tone. She listens. And Fanfar, for it
+is he, repeats his demand.
+
+"In the name of Francine, I beg you to open the door. It is for her
+sake."
+
+By what miracle did this paralyzed frame struggle to her feet? She takes
+a step--then another.
+
+"Make haste!" said Fanfar.
+
+The woman obeys. She turns the key in the lock, with many efforts, but
+it is done. Fanfar enters, and in the pale morning light is confronted
+by this horrible apparition. He contemplates her with horror and pity.
+
+"Madame," he said, "is not Francine here?"
+
+She did not reply. She is looking at him earnestly.
+
+"She has been carried off, by a man named Talizac."
+
+The sick woman tried to repeat this name.
+
+"Tell me," continued Fanfar, "the life of this girl, who cares for you,
+who loves you, may depend on what you tell me. Have you ever seen any
+man by the name of Talizac here? And a woman of great size known as La
+Roulante, has she never been here to propose an infamous bargain?"
+
+But he is interrupted. The paralytic falls upon her knees, and
+stretching out her arms, cries:
+
+"Jacques! Jacques!"
+
+"Who is this terrible creature," asks Jacques, "who calls me by the name
+of my boyhood?"
+
+Suddenly a strange idea flashes into his mind. He looks eagerly into the
+eyes of the poor woman. He recognizes her; he leans over her.
+
+"You called me Jacques, did you not? Yes, that was my name, when I was a
+boy in a village among the mountains. My father's name was Simon, Simon
+Fougere, and I had a little sister Cinette."
+
+The woman quivered from head to foot. She threw her arms around his
+neck.
+
+"Jacques! my child! My name is Francoise, and I am the widow of Simon
+Fougere."
+
+"Mother! dear mother!"
+
+This shock has been so great that the vail that obscured the poor
+woman's brain was rent in twain. She sees, she knows, she understands.
+It is he--it is the boy she held on her knees, in those days so long
+ago. He took her tenderly in his arms, and both weep.
+
+"Ah! dear mother," he said, "you braved death for the sake of your
+children. How did you escape?"
+
+But the momentary glimmer of reason had in a measure vanished, and when
+he spoke of Cinette she did not seem to be aware of who the girl was.
+
+"You must listen to me, mother," said Fanfar, rapidly. "Jacques was not
+alone in that inn. There was another child; she was small, she had light
+curls."
+
+His voice was so sympathetic and persuasive that Francoise saw it all,
+saw the little rosy face once more.
+
+What was to be done? Time was passing, and now Fanfar knew that she who
+was in the power of a scoundrel, was his little sister Francine. He sees
+a miniature hanging on the wall, he takes it down.
+
+"Yes, it is she--it is Cinette!" he cries.
+
+The sick woman snatches it from his hand. She looks at it.
+
+"Yes, it is my child."
+
+"And you never knew it before?"
+
+"No, she called me mamma, but I never called her daughter."
+
+"And, mother, your daughter is in danger."
+
+"Ah! I knew it, she did not kiss me to-night. Where is she?"
+
+"In the power of a scoundrel, of the Vicomte de Talizac."
+
+"Talizac!" The sick woman was troubled by the name, but she could not
+grasp the memories it had aroused.
+
+The door opened hastily, and Gudel appeared.
+
+"Gudel! Have you found Robeccal or La Roulante?"
+
+"They have vanished. They have been living in la Rue des Venaigrurs, but
+last night they announced that they were about to move."
+
+"And this is all you have discovered?"
+
+"All."
+
+"Then Gudel, I must tell you that this unfortunate creature I have in my
+arms is my mother, and Francine is my sister."
+
+Gudel looked utterly aghast. Before he could speak, Bobichel appeared.
+
+"I beg your pardon, sir," he said to Fanfar, "but knowing that the sick
+lady was alone, I went for some one."
+
+Caillette stepped forward.
+
+The girl said in a low voice to Fanfar:
+
+"Will you allow me to take care of your mother?"
+
+She then turned to Francoise, and kissed her as Cinette would have
+done.
+
+"Good, kind souls!" murmured Fanfar, "with the assistance of such people
+we ought to succeed."
+
+He kissed his mother again, then turning to Gudel and Bobichel, he
+cried:
+
+"Come with me! And may Eternal Justice be with us also!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIX.
+
+A CONSPIRACY.
+
+
+When Francine found herself in the power of these scoundrels she fainted
+away, and these men carried her over their shoulders as if she had been
+a bag of flour, perfectly indifferent to her beauty.
+
+Robeccal suddenly bade them halt. They had reached the vile place known
+as the Cour de Bretagne, a part of Paris known for its poverty and vice.
+
+"I think it is about time!" grumbled one of Robeccal's men in reply.
+
+"Oh! I suppose you thought you were to be paid for nothing, did you?"
+
+Without heeding the growling of these fellows, Robeccal stepped up to a
+door and knocked. It was opened by a person who stood back in the
+shadow, and a hurried conversation took place. Satisfied apparently with
+what he heard, Robeccal bade his men follow him. They went to
+Belleville, which at that time was an excessively pretty place, as
+almost all the houses of any pretension had gardens and grounds.
+Robeccal had been extremely adroit in diverting suspicion and the
+observation of the people they encountered. He now knocked at a door in
+a wall half hidden by overhanging ivy.
+
+"Who is there?" called a woman's voice.
+
+"Robec and the kid," was the reply.
+
+The door opened noiselessly on well-oiled hinges.
+
+"Come in, all of you." It was Roulante who spoke.
+
+Francine was at once carried to a little cottage at the foot of a long
+garden, where, still unconscious, she was laid on a couch.
+
+Then Robeccal paid his assistants the sum agreed upon. They were not
+altogether satisfied, but he managed to get rid of them.
+
+La Roulante was unchanged since the day when she and her lover discussed
+the assassination of Iron Jaws.
+
+"I have done well, have I not?" asked Robeccal, with a friendly tap on
+the massive shoulders of this monstrosity.
+
+"Her beauty is not marred, I hope?" she asked, anxiously.
+
+"I am not such a fool as that! But I am afraid that the handkerchief was
+too tight. She is confoundedly pretty, that is a fact!"
+
+"What is that to you?" asked the giantess, angrily. "Now give me that
+bottle."
+
+"What are you going to do?"
+
+"None of your business! Hand it here."
+
+The woman poured out something that looked like wine, and dropped a
+spoonful between the girl's lips. She had so much difficulty in doing
+so, that Robeccal took a knife from his pocket, and inserted it between
+Francine's close shut teeth. As soon as the liquid disappeared down the
+girl's throat she started.
+
+"You are not poisoning her?" asked Robeccal.
+
+"Am I a fool? Hark! I hear a carriage. Take this girl up-stairs."
+
+Robeccal snatched Francine from the sofa, and ran lightly up the stairs.
+
+The room above was elegantly furnished, and had long windows looking out
+upon the garden, which seemed to stretch out indefinitely. In reality it
+ended at no very great distance in a wall sixteen feet in height.
+
+As Robeccal laid the girl on the bed, he looked at her again with some
+anxiety. She was absolutely motionless.
+
+There came a knock at the door. Robeccal started.
+
+"That must be he!" said La Roulante.
+
+It was in fact Talizac, who had arrived. Fernando was with him, but the
+Vicomte had knocked with the handle of his cane. It was not the signal
+agreed upon, and the door was not opened. Suddenly Frederic uttered an
+oath.
+
+"Oh! it is he!" said Robeccal. "That is better than a visiting card!"
+
+But La Roulante insisted on a little argument through the door before
+she would consent to move the heavy bolts.
+
+"Damned sorceress!" cried Talizac, "you deserve that I should cut your
+face with my cane, for keeping me waiting so long."
+
+La Roulante made no reply to this gentle address, and Talizac, with
+blood-stained face and torn clothing, entered the house, followed by
+Fernando, who was as dignified and correct in costume as he always was.
+
+When Talizac reached the salon, he dropped into a chair. "Water! for the
+love of Heaven, give me some water!" he murmured. He felt almost ill,
+and would have been glad of a few hours of rest. "Is she here?" he
+asked.
+
+"Yes, she is here," answered La Roulante.
+
+Talizac rose. "I must repair the disorder of my toilette," he said.
+"Robeccal, come with me."
+
+On Talizac's return, he asked La Roulante where the Marquise was.
+
+"Oh! she is asleep," was the reply.
+
+"Show me where she is, and move a little faster!"
+
+"It strikes me, sir, that you are not over polite," muttered Robeccal.
+
+"Let him have his own way," sneered the giantess; "he is in a hurry to
+see his darling, and has no time to be civil!" She made a grotesque
+reverence as she spoke. She preceded the Vicomte to show him the way.
+"Do you know," she cried, stopping on the stairs, "that the girl is as
+pretty as a pink."
+
+"That is none of your affairs," answered Talizac, roughly, "I pay you to
+serve me, not to talk!"
+
+"You are a little hard on us, I think," said La Roulante, with a sneer,
+"but I suppose when people are rich they can say and do as they please!"
+
+"Is that the room?" Talizac asked, as he reached the top of the stairs,
+"if so, open the door at once, or I will force it!"
+
+"No, you won't injure my house like that! But you want to see her, do
+you? Very well, I will show her to you, then."
+
+She quickly slid back a narrow panel in the door, which permitted him to
+look into the room.
+
+"Look in, gentlemen and ladies," said La Roulante, in the sing-song tone
+of a showman at the circus, "look in, it won't cost you anything!" And
+then the creature laughed.
+
+Talizac did not heed her, but leaning toward the open panel looked at
+Francine, who lay with her arms folded on her breast like a child. Her
+hair was loosened, and nothing could have been lovelier than this face
+with its delicate features, reminding one of Raphael's pictures. Talizac
+looked, and forgot that this child was the victim of a miserable
+conspiracy. He was so impressed by her beauty and her innocence that he
+was ready to kneel before her. But La Roulante touched his arm with a
+cynical laugh.
+
+"Open the door, I say!"
+
+La Roulante closed the panel with a snap, and slowly drew a key from her
+pocket and stood with it in her fingers, and then said quietly and
+firmly:
+
+"If I unlock that door, it will cost you twenty thousand francs!"
+
+Talizac started back. "What do you mean?" he exclaimed.
+
+"Just what I say, twenty thousand francs!"
+
+"But this is abominable. Have I not paid the sum agreed upon?"
+
+"A trifle, yes; but that won't do!"
+
+"It is robbery, bare-faced robbery--"
+
+"None of that, sir, you are not so honest yourself, that you can afford
+to taunt others!"
+
+He looked at her in astonishment, and then rushed at the door as if to
+force it open. She called for Robeccal, who hurried to obey her summons.
+Talizac called Fernando, and Robeccal turned back. Drawing an enormous
+knife, he said, fiercely:
+
+"Don't you interfere! My wife will settle her own matters with this
+gentleman!"
+
+Fernando's attitude during the fight between Frederic and Montferrand
+has already informed us as to the courage of this man. Perhaps he was
+wise in not risking his life to defend Talizac, whom he estimated at his
+proper value. He was interested in the Fongereues family only as an
+emissary of that Society which at that time labored to strangle
+Liberalism at its birth.
+
+"Very good!" answered Fernando, shrugging his shoulders indifferently,
+but as he did not propose to be mixed up in any disagreeable affair in
+this house, he determined to take himself off.
+
+The giantess was not alarmed by Talizac's mad attempt. She calmly lifted
+him by the collar and landed him on the stairs, half way down.
+
+"Robbers! Murderers!" shouted the Vicomte.
+
+"Confound you! hold your tongue!" said Robeccal, flourishing the knife
+which had such an effect on Fernando.
+
+"Why do you not keep your word?" angrily asked the Vicomte; "you
+promised--"
+
+"People like us do not keep our promises," answered La Roulante,
+cynically. "You paid us for carrying off the girl, you paid us for
+giving her a shelter; we have done both. But if you wish to enter that
+room it will cost you twenty thousand francs!"
+
+"But that is an enormous sum!" moaned Talizac.
+
+"Not to a man like you, who has a grandee for a father, and a mother
+rolling in wealth. She has diamonds, plenty of them!"
+
+"Wretches that you are!"
+
+"Thank you! I don't care for any more of these hard names, if it is all
+the same to you! And now let me tell you, if you don't hand over this
+money that the police will be at your heels."
+
+At the word police, Fernando went to the Vicomte. "Come," he said, "we
+had better not remain in this cut-throat place. You must give the matter
+up, that is all there is to be said."
+
+"No, I tell you, no!" Feeling in his pocket, Talizac drew out a handful
+of gold and flung it at the woman.
+
+"Take this," he cried, "and unlock that door!"
+
+La Roulante counted the money. "No," she replied, "this is but
+thirty-two louis."
+
+"Come," persisted Fernando, dragging Talizac away.
+
+"Call again!" shouted the woman. "You need not be in a hurry, but call
+again!"
+
+And the door closed.
+
+"My idea is a good one," said La Roulante to Robeccal. "He will come
+back, and will bring the twenty thousand francs!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXX.
+
+MACHIAVELLI & CO.
+
+
+Day was breaking. The Marquis de Fongereues was standing in his
+dressing-room, listening with frowning brow to Cyprien, who was
+narrating the events of the night.
+
+"I assure you, sir," said the valet, obsequiously, "that every precaution
+was taken, and yet we failed."
+
+"There is one comfort--that Fanfar is every day compromising himself
+more deeply with these conspirators."
+
+"Yes, and when the hour comes, Fanfar's condemnation is certain."
+
+"But if he escapes us?"
+
+"Impossible! We shall have him, even if we are forced to put the entire
+police on his track!"
+
+A lacquey knocked at the door and entered.
+
+"The Marquis de Montferrand desires to see you, sir, on a matter of
+great importance."
+
+"Show him up at once!" said his master, who added to Cyprien: "Do not go
+away. I do not like this visit--I may need your services. Take your
+position behind that portiere."
+
+The heavy folds had scarcely fallen over him when the Marquis appeared.
+He was a noble-looking, white haired old man. He was excessively pale.
+
+"Monsieur de Fongereues," he said, "we are morally responsible for the
+crimes our children commit, are we not?"
+
+"How do you mean?"
+
+"I speak of the Vicomte de Talizac, who is dishonoring himself,
+dishonors you, and compromises the cause to which you belong!"
+
+"My son is young--if he has committed some peccadillo----"
+
+"Peccadillo is hardly the word to use. Are you thus lenient toward one
+who is some day to bear your name?"
+
+Fongereues writhed under this severe language, and yet he tried to
+contain himself, for De Montferrand was a precious ally. It was he who
+had induced Monsieur de Salves to accept the overtures of marriage made
+by the De Fongereues family.
+
+"Speak," he said, "speak frankly. Your age and the long intimacy
+existing between our families give you the right to do so."
+
+"The Vicomte de Talizac has this night endeavored to murder my son!"
+
+"Impossible, sir!"
+
+"My son never lies. He endeavored to prevent an infamous act, and
+Talizac attacked him with a knife. Arthur in return slapped the
+Vicomte's face."
+
+Fongereues started forward.
+
+"Wait!" said the old gentleman. "Hear my tale. Talizac paid scoundrels
+to abduct a girl, a street singer. My son became disgusted with the
+adventure, and it was then that the Vicomte attacked him. To-morrow the
+journals will all have this tale. I shall lay the facts before Monsieur
+de Salves, as it was I who acted as intermediary in the proposed
+marriage."
+
+Fongereues became livid. He staggered, and caught at a table for
+support.
+
+At this moment a portiere was lifted, and Magdalena, Talizac's mother,
+appeared. Fongereues exclaimed:
+
+"Madame! your son is a scoundrel. He is ruined, as are we all! This is
+the result of the education you have given him!"
+
+Magdalena looked perfectly unmoved.
+
+"Monsieur de Montferrand," she said, "I am aware that my son has been
+unfortunate enough to quarrel with yours. I come with his apologies."
+
+"Apologies!" repeated both gentlemen, in amazement.
+
+"You are astonished, I see, but remember that I am a mother, though I
+bear the name of de Fongereues. I know that my son has been greatly in
+the wrong. I know the whole story, and I cannot see why there should be
+so much said because the Vicomte de Talizac chanced to admire a daughter
+of the people. You talk of crime, of infamy. These are large words for a
+small matter. But the quarrel between the young men is of more
+importance. They had both been drinking, and I sincerely trust that such
+folly will be forgotten in view of the old friendship between the
+families. And I authorize you to kiss my hand as a token of forgiveness
+and reconciliation."
+
+This little speech had been delivered with such assurance and ease that
+the old Marquis was nearly taken off his feet. The fair Magdalena was
+still beautiful.
+
+Monsieur de Montferrand bowed over the fair hand, and Fongereues
+wondered and admired.
+
+"And now let us talk a little," the lady said, as she seated herself. "I
+must not omit to say that my son promises not to see this girl again--it
+was but a passing fever. I realize that, and I promise to use all my
+influence with my son to induce him to forget this affair. But what are
+we to do to silence the scandal which will certainly be on every tongue
+to-morrow? Yes, that is the first consideration. The girl will be free
+in a few hours, and her silence can be bought. I am particularly anxious
+that there shall be no talk, as it would interfere greatly with my
+plans."
+
+Fongereues ventured to ask to what plans his wife referred.
+
+"You are aware," she said, "that for some time I have been anxious to
+obtain for my son a captaincy in His Majesty's Guards."
+
+"Well?" asked her husband, breathlessly.
+
+"I have received the royal promise, and to-day Talizac will have his
+commission, and also the order of Saint-Louis."
+
+This was an immense joy to Fongereues, and from that moment the
+monarchist--the Marquis de Montferrand--felt that Talizac, a captain in
+the King's Guard, could do no evil.
+
+"Forgive a mother's vanity," continued Magdalena. "I have sent out a
+large number of invitations for this evening, and as soon as the officer
+of His Majesty's household hands to my son the commission which he has
+won by his merits and the badge of the Legion of Honor, Monsieur de
+Fongereues will officially announce the marriage of his son to
+Mademoiselle Salves. I rely on your aid, Monsieur de Montferrand."
+
+"Ah! Madame," cried the old Marquis, "you are excessively clever, and
+you are an angel!"
+
+She smiled.
+
+"Arthur will come with you, I am sure, so that no cloud shall remain in
+our sky."
+
+"Certainly, Madame, my son will come. Captain of the Guards--Chevalier
+de Saint-Louis. Zounds! that is a good deal for one day!"
+
+"To-night, then, I shall see you, Marquis!" said Magdalena, as she rose
+from her chair.
+
+Montferrand raised her hands to his lips once more, and took his leave.
+
+Instantly Fongereues turned to his wife.
+
+"Is this true?" he asked.
+
+She shrugged her shoulders disdainfully, and left the room in silence.
+She went to her son's chamber.
+
+"It is all settled," she said to him. "In a few hours you will have the
+twenty thousand francs you need to silence this scandal, and you will
+try to make yourself worthy of the favor of your king."
+
+As soon as his mother left the room, Frederic sent to the house at
+Belleville, by a trusty messenger, the following note:
+
+"I will be with you at four o'clock--shall bring the sum required. I
+desire that you shall leave me alone in the house with----you know."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXI.
+
+TRIUMPH.
+
+
+A triumph like this was, of course, to be celebrated by La Roulante and
+Robeccal after their own fashion. They sat opposite each other at a
+table covered with bottles. In the centre lay the bag of gold. As they
+talked they played with it, making it up in little piles and arranging
+it in figures.
+
+"We will buy a little place in the country, now," said La Roulante, as
+she filled her glass.
+
+"Why does the girl sleep like this?" asked Robeccal.
+
+"Oh! it is a secret that I learned some time ago--to make little girls
+submissive."
+
+There was a sudden sound, a long, shivering sigh from above stairs.
+
+"Did you hear that?" asked Robeccal, in a startled tone.
+
+"It is nothing!" answered La Roulante, superciliously. "It is only the
+girl waking up at last!"
+
+"But she will scream, I am sure!"
+
+"Let her, if she dare!" and the giantess clenched her enormous fist. "I
+would crush her to jelly if she did!"
+
+"And then you would lose the twenty thousand francs!"
+
+The woman nodded in a tipsy manner.
+
+"That's so!" she answered. "I had best go and talk to the Princess,
+anyway."
+
+Another long sigh.
+
+"I am coming! I am coming!" grunted La Roulante, slowly feeling her way
+up the stairs that creaked under her weight. She drew the key from her
+pocket with considerable difficulty, and finally succeeded in opening
+the door.
+
+The young girl lay in the same position, but she seemed oppressed by a
+nightmare, for big tears rolled down her cheeks and sighs rent her
+breast.
+
+La Roulante went to the side of the bed.
+
+"Well, my child," she said, endeavoring to soften her harsh voice, "how
+are you to-night? Do you want anything?"
+
+Francine's eyelids fluttered, and then slowly opened. A look of terrible
+horror came on her face as she beheld this most repulsive creature.
+
+"Where am I?" faintly ejaculated the poor child.
+
+"You are with good friends, who are anxious to make you happy."
+
+Francine frowned. She was evidently trying to remember what had taken
+place.
+
+La Roulante grew bolder. She seated herself on the foot of the bed.
+
+"Virtue is a very good thing," she said, "but it neither feeds you nor
+clothes you. And it is rather a hard thing to starve and be cold when
+you are young, and then die in a hospital when you grow old. If a girl
+only realized this, she would never refuse what a nice young fellow
+offered!"
+
+Francine started up with a burning face.
+
+"What are you saying?" she cried. "But I do not wish to understand.
+Where am I?" She wrung her hands. "I remember now! I was gagged and
+carried away. I am not an ignorant child--I know too well the wickedness
+of this world, and I understand all. A villain, whose name my lips shall
+never pronounce, has placed me in this woman's house." Francine grasped
+La Roulante's arm. "Move aside," she said, "let me pass!"
+
+La Roulante now stood in front of the door.
+
+"Listen to me," said Francine. "I will forgive you if you let me go now.
+If you refuse, I will call for aid, and I will denounce you to the
+police!"
+
+"It is too late, little girl, too late! Your lover was here with you all
+night!"
+
+Francine uttered a terrific shriek and rushed to the window. She threw
+it open, and leaning out, cried:
+
+"Help! Help!"
+
+La Roulante immediately seized her and pulled her back. Robeccal ran in.
+The girl struggled until, breathless and exhausted, she was thrown on
+the floor.
+
+"Give me that bottle!" said La Roulante.
+
+Robeccal understood, as did poor Francine, who resolutely closed her
+lips. The man brutally pried them open with his fingers, while the woman
+poured a teaspoonful down the girl's throat, who in another moment lay
+unconscious.
+
+Then La Roulante and Robeccal put the room in order, and going out,
+closed the door and returned to their wine below. They began to play
+cards, while waiting for the arrival of Frederic, from whom they had
+received the note.
+
+The weather was still stormy, and about six o'clock Frederic, wrapped in
+a cloak, arrived. As soon as he rapped on the door the giantess opened
+it, but barred all passage.
+
+"Have you the money?" she asked.
+
+"Yes, yes--give me the key!"
+
+Talizac threw down a pocketbook, and the giantess, with most exaggerated
+respect, pointed to the stairs.
+
+As soon as Talizac had left the lower floor, she turned to Robeccal.
+
+"And now we will make ourselves scarce!"
+
+Hardly had the door closed on their retreating forms than an angry cry
+rang through the house. Talizac rushed from Francine's room. The girl
+had disappeared.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXII.
+
+SURPRISES.
+
+
+By what miracle had Francine vanished? How could she with her frail
+strength escape from that room, situated as we have said on the second
+floor of this house, and from the garden surrounded on all sides by
+walls which no man could climb.
+
+When these wretches gave Francine the narcotic, they in their eagerness
+gave her too much, and the girl was utterly prostrated. She lay for an
+hour motionless while her jailers played cards and drank; and then her
+pulse began to flutter and nervous contractions shook her frail form,
+still she did not open her eyes. Her brain was over-excited. Suddenly
+she started up with eyes wide open, but eyes that saw not. She moved
+slowly and noiselessly. Did she reason? Not in the least. Instinct was
+her only guide.
+
+Have you ever when half asleep heard the same words repeated over and
+over again? In Francine's brain the words "too late! too late!" were
+repeated with the regularity of a pendulum. The old woman had struck a
+cruel blow. The girl had believed for a few moments that she was
+dishonored and this thought now haunted her vaguely. She placed her feet
+on the floor, then glided toward the door. She tried it and found it
+locked. She turned to the window; she slowly and gently opened the
+blinds, and then stepped upon the cornice outside; then she feels her
+way down to another projection where she places one foot and then the
+other until she finds herself on the ground. She then glides on until
+she reaches the wall.
+
+Ah! child, it is useless for you to try! Not so! The clinging vines form
+a rope-ladder for her light weight. She reaches the top of the wall, and
+easily descends on the other side. She is saved! But she does not know
+this, and her pale lips murmur,
+
+"Too late! Too late!"
+
+Where is she going? Ah! she knows not. She feels no fatigue, but goes on
+and on. She has crossed the outer Boulevard, and moves swiftly on
+through the now crowded streets, where no one seems to notice her
+pallor. The fog is so thick that she is but dimly seen. She reaches the
+bridge over the Saint Martin Canal; here she stops, and leaning over the
+parapet seems to contemplate the dark water running below. While she
+stands there, we will see what is taking place in the house she has
+left.
+
+Robeccal and La Roulante when they left the house, went to take the
+diligence in the Rue Saint Denis. Their plans had been long made; they
+meant to return to Robeccal's former home. They were groping their way
+through the fog, when suddenly Robeccal was lifted from the ground, and
+then flung some distance, while a voice shouted:
+
+"Scoundrel! I have you at last!"
+
+At the same moment, an iron grasp nailed the giantess to the spot where
+she stood. The two wretches gasped out the names:
+
+"Fanfar! Bobichel!"
+
+"Where is Francine?" said Fanfar, sternly.
+
+La Roulante laughed, and would not reply.
+
+"Speak!" said Fanfar. "I know the whole story. Where is that girl?"
+
+La Roulante knew that Fanfar was not to be trifled with, and after all
+why should she not now tell? She wanted to be free, that she and
+Robeccal might go far away.
+
+"Take your hand away, and I will tell you."
+
+"The truth, you understand, and make haste."
+
+"Well, the girl is not far away."
+
+"Alone?"
+
+"I do not know."
+
+"Show me the house."
+
+"It is easy enough to find."
+
+"Show me the way."
+
+"No, it was not in the bargain."
+
+"Show me the way."
+
+Bobichel looked upon this delay as worthy of being celebrated, by
+lifting Robeccal by the skin of his neck as he would have lifted a cat.
+
+These people now took their way to the deserted house.
+
+La Roulante uttered a cry as they reached the house, for the door was
+open. She ran into the house, and flew toward the stairs. Fanfar was
+behind her. She beheld the window open.
+
+"Look!" she cried, "he has taken her away!"
+
+"Of whom do you speak?"
+
+"Of the Vicomte de Talizac."
+
+"Talizac!" exclaimed Fanfar, "would that I could kill that man!"
+
+The house was searched, and found entirely deserted.
+
+A folded paper lay on the table in the lower room. She snatched it up.
+It contained only these words from Talizac:
+
+"You have infamously swindled me. You have taken the girl away, but I
+shall find her and be even with you."
+
+"The man lies!" yelled the woman.
+
+Fanfar was nearly stunned. He now had not the smallest clue to Francine.
+
+"Bobichel," he said, sadly. "Fate is against us. Come with me."
+
+"But what am I to do with him?" asked Bobichel, pointing to Robeccal,
+"Ah! I have it."
+
+He seized a rope and bound Robeccal firmly, and then bundled him into a
+closet, which he locked and put the key into his pocket. They drove La
+Roulante out of the house, and locked that door also, and then hurried
+back to the city.
+
+La Roulante when she was thus left hesitated a moment.
+
+"No," she said, "if I let him out I shall have to divide the money."
+
+And without more thought of Robeccal she too went away.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXIII.
+
+FACE TO FACE.
+
+
+The hotel of the Marquis de Fongereues was ablaze with lights. Magdalena
+having determined that her son's triumph should be dazzling, invitations
+had been sent to every one of distinction. For a long time rumors had
+been in circulation adverse to the Fongereues family, and the gay crowd,
+always ready to desert a falling house, had shown great coolness to them
+all. But as soon as the favors shown by the king became known at the
+clubs, the family were quickly reinstated in public opinion.
+
+About nine o'clock carriages began to roll through the streets near the
+hotel, the doors of which were thrown wide open to welcome the coming
+guests, who bore the oldest and noblest names of France.
+
+Fongereues, under an air of great dignity, concealed the joy and pride
+that swelled his heart. Magdalena was superb in her matronly beauty and
+her diamonds. Talizac was excessively pale, his worn face telling the
+story of his excesses and the excitement of the previous night.
+Francine's flight, which he believed to have been arranged by the man
+and woman whom he had employed as his tools, had driven him nearly mad
+with rage, from which he had not yet recovered.
+
+Suddenly a murmur of admiration ran around the room. Mademoiselle de
+Salves had just come in. Her mother had with difficulty risen from her
+sick bed to witness the triumph of her child.
+
+Irene was certainly very beautiful, and her toilette was characterized
+by exquisite simplicity. But her face was sad, and the brilliancy of her
+eyes was due to fever. Why had she come? Why had she not resisted the
+wishes of her mother? A great change had come over the girl. All her
+former energy and innumerable caprices had given way to a charming
+timidity. She was all the time conscious that she concealed a secret in
+her heart, and that since a certain memorable day she thought of but one
+person. Her vanity, her patrician pride, all revolted against this
+truth. The name she repeated over and over again, was that of Fanfar.
+Whenever she closed her eyes she saw him, haughty and courageous,
+risking his life to save that of his adopted father. She heard his rich
+voice and the words he uttered:
+
+"Make yourself beloved."
+
+She struggled with all her power against this infatuation, and had come
+to Paris. There she saw him again, no longer in his theatrical costume,
+but dressed like the young men she met in society. He had saved her from
+being killed by the heavy timber. He had held her a minute in his arms,
+and she had felt his heart beat against her own. A hundred times since
+then she had seen him ride past the house, and over and over again she
+knew that he had thrown flowers over the wall. With trembling joy she
+had carried these flowers to the privacy of her own rooms. She
+questioned them, but they were mute and kept the secret that Fanfar had
+undoubtedly confided to them.
+
+Who was this Fanfar? Irene's imagination ran riot. She heard him called
+a conspirator whom the police watched. He belonged to the party who
+aimed at the overthrowal of the royal power. How did one so lowly
+venture to menace one so high? Irene meditated and studied; her youthful
+mind awoke to great truths, and she realized that men like Fanfar were
+working for a great cause, and her soul was filled with noble wrath
+against those persons who were ruining and dishonoring France. How
+solitary she felt herself! How ignorant! How she longed to interrogate
+Fanfar on these great subjects. But she well knew that this was an
+impossible dream. He was far away from her, and love had made her timid.
+She ceased to struggle, but all the time asked herself why he did not
+come to save her from the fate hourly drawing nearer. She knew that her
+mother had promised her hand to the Vicomte de Talizac, and she knew
+that if she made any resistance it would break her mother's heart; but
+as the hour drew near when her sacrifice was to be consummated, Irene
+felt herself very weak.
+
+She entered the Fongereues salon in a state of suppressed excitement,
+very pale but very beautiful. The Marquis met her and drew her arm
+through his. This marriage was his salvation. He, too, thought of Fanfar
+with a certain pity, for he knew that this mountebank, as he scornfully
+called him, was the only man who had the right to call himself the
+Marquis de Fongereues.
+
+Irene's arrival was the signal for the opening of the ball. The
+orchestra began to play a waltz. Then came a sudden silence. A
+magnificent person entered, an officer of the Royal Guard, in his white
+and gold uniform. He was received by the Marquis de Fongereues.
+
+"Marquis," he said, "I come in the name of the king."
+
+Every one listened with bated breath. Fongereues was radiant.
+
+"Desirous of recompensing services rendered to the holy cause of
+monarchy, His Majesty has condescended to lend a favorable ear to
+certain applications, and, Monsieur, I am the bearer of the commission
+which confers on your son the rank of lieutenant in the King's Guards."
+
+Magdalena laid her hand on Frederic's shoulder.
+
+"Talizac," she said, "remember that your life and the lives of the
+Fongereues belong to the king."
+
+Talizac bowed low, and as he turned he gave Irene a look of triumph.
+She, poor girl, knew that her fate was sealed.
+
+"How happy you will be!" whispered her mother, tenderly.
+
+"Happy!" repeated Irene, drearily.
+
+But this was not all. The Royal Envoy had not completed his mission. La
+Vicomte de Talizac was made a Chevalier de Saint-Louis.
+
+"_Vive le Roi!_" cried the women, gayly.
+
+Monsieur de Montferrand turned to his son Arthur. "You see, sir," he
+said, in a severe tone, "how our King, a worthy son of Henri IV.,
+rewards those whom he finds worthy of his protection."
+
+Arthur de Montferrand had, in obedience to his father's wishes,
+accompanied him to this entertainment. The two young men exchanged a few
+words of feigned cordiality, but Arthur felt the most profound contempt
+for the Vicomte; while the image of Francine in the power of those
+scoundrels haunted him perpetually.
+
+Fernando did not make his appearance, and Arthur dared not talk to any
+one else of this miserable affair in which he had been engaged. He
+listened with a shudder to the congratulations and compliments showered
+upon the Vicomte, who finally had the audacity to go up to Arthur and
+demand his felicitations.
+
+Arthur started, and said low in his ear, "I will congratulate you, sir,
+when the mark upon your cheek, which I imprinted there, is no longer to
+be seen."
+
+Talizac uttered an exclamation, but Monsieur de Montferrand, suspecting
+what was going on, stepped forward.
+
+"Arthur," he said sternly, "apologize to the Vicomte for your rash
+words, or leave this house!"
+
+Arthur looked reproachfully at his father, and moved toward the door. At
+the same moment a great tumult was heard in the hall.
+
+"What can it be?" said De Fongereues, nervously.
+
+A door was flung open, servants were thrust aside, and a man bearing the
+inanimate form of a young girl, entered the ball-room.
+
+"Fanfar!" cried Arthur de Montferrand. It was, indeed, Fanfar.
+
+Standing in the centre of the ball-room, for no man ventured to oppose
+his progress, he addressed himself to the crowd.
+
+"Gentlemen," he said, "behold the body of the unhappy girl whom the
+Vicomte de Talizac has murdered!"
+
+There was a moment of silence, then the women screamed and fled, while
+the men turned pale and looked at each other.
+
+Talizac caught at the mantel for support. Fongereues had heard Arthur
+utter the name of Fanfar, and shuddered at the ill-omen.
+
+From Francine's drenched garments water was dripping upon the floor, and
+the pale face rested on Fanfar's shoulder.
+
+The Marquis hastened forward. "Who is this man? What is he doing here?"
+he cried.
+
+"Monsieur," said Fanfar, "a crime has been committed, the guilty must be
+punished, and this guilt is upon your son's head. You, gentlemen, seem
+to think that to your rank everything is permitted. Behold a young girl
+who, pure and industrious, toiled for her daily bread. This Vicomte de
+Talizac abducted her with the assistance of his paid emissaries. The
+poor creature, driven to despair, committed suicide. This is what your
+son has done, Marquis! Can you conceive of a more cowardly or infamous
+act?"
+
+And Fanfar, with head erect and lightning in his eyes, looked with
+contempt on the people about him.
+
+Arthur rushed to his side. "Dead!" he cried, "is she dead?"
+
+Fanfar gently laid Francine upon the floor. "Is there no one among all
+these ladies who will see if this girl lives? Beats there not one heart
+under all this silk and velvet?"
+
+A woman advanced and knelt by the side of Francine. It was Irene de
+Salves.
+
+"What does this senseless comedy mean?" asked the Marquis de Fongereues,
+angrily.
+
+"It is no comedy, it is a horrible tragedy," answered Fanfar, coldly.
+"Ask what explanations you please from your son; he must answer you. See
+how he trembles; ask him if what I have said is not true?"
+
+Talizac made a violent effort, and turning to his father, said, "This
+man lies!"
+
+"And I, sir, swear that he speaks the truth!" cried Arthur de
+Montferrand. "Ah! Monsieur de Talizac, you forget too quickly; but my
+memory recalls the fact that the marks now on your face were imprinted
+yesterday by my hand, when you attacked me with a knife, because I
+endeavored to prevent you from committing this crime!"
+
+"Liar!" shouted Talizac. Then turning to the crowd of spectators:
+"Gentlemen," he said, "I am the victim of a most monstrous calumny, and
+I call on you to treat this scoundrel with his trumped-up tale as he
+deserves!"
+
+Not one moved. Fanfar, with folded arms, stood looking at them.
+
+"She lives!" cried Irene. "She breathes! Mother, dear mother, permit
+this girl to be carried to our home. I will bring her back to life; you
+will give me permission?" she asked, turning to Fanfar.
+
+"She is my sister!" said Fanfar.
+
+Irene imprinted a kiss on Francine's brow. This was her reply to
+Fanfar's words.
+
+Talizac ran to the door of the salon and summoned the lacqueys. "Here,
+take this man away!"
+
+And, as they crowded in, Fanfar said: "Who dares lay a hand on me?"
+
+"I do!" answered a voice behind him, as a hand was laid on his shoulder.
+"In the name of the king, I arrest you!"
+
+The man who uttered these words wore a white scarf, fringed with gold.
+Soldiers filled every doorway.
+
+"Monsieur," said the Magistrate, to Fongereues, "a man has just been
+found endeavoring to conceal himself in the apartments of His Majesty.
+He had arms concealed about his person, and did not hesitate to confess
+that he came with the intention of killing the king."
+
+A cry of horror ran around the room. Fongereues was overjoyed. Cyprien
+had kept his word.
+
+"And this man," continued the Magistrate, "when summoned to name his
+accomplices, said that he obeyed the instructions of a secret society,
+of which this Fanfar is the chief."
+
+"An infamous falsehood!" exclaimed Fanfar.
+
+"An assassin! never!" murmured Irene, as she rose from her knees,
+hastily.
+
+Arthur held her back. He had divined her secret. "Do not betray
+yourself," he whispered, "rely on me."
+
+Fanfar looked around. Escape was impossible. He turned to Irene. "Save
+my sister!" he said to her.
+
+She bowed assent. Then Fanfar spoke to the Magistrate. "This unfounded
+accusation will recoil on the heads of my calumniators. I have been
+against the monarchy, but I have had no hand in any plot with murder as
+its object. I am at your service, gentlemen!"
+
+Arthur whispered in the ear of de Talizac:
+
+"To-morrow, if you are not a coward, I shall expect you!"
+
+"And I will kill you!" answered the Vicomte.
+
+In another hour the guests had left the Hotel de Fongereues.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXIV.
+
+LEIGOUTTE.
+
+
+The kind reader who has followed thus far, has not forgotten a certain
+little village among the Vosges mountains, where in January, 1814, brave
+peasants fought and died in the defence of their country.
+
+When Simon left Leigoutte with Sergeant Michel, he had no idea that the
+fury of the invaders would lead them to commit the crime of killing
+women and children, and to burn their homes. The Cossacks and the
+emigres avenged themselves on French flesh and blood, and French homes
+and firesides.
+
+While the Russians burned the cottage where Francoise and the children
+had taken shelter, Talizac, in order to ensure his possession of the
+title and Fongereues estates, set fire to the inn which was Simon's
+home. The emigres took fiendish delight in destroying the school-room.
+Was it not there that the Republicans talked of duty and their country
+to the children? And when this band of royal thieves had passed,
+desolation settled down upon the valley.
+
+The king was proclaimed at the Tuileries, and lying on his bed
+embroidered with purple _fleur de lis_, never condescended to think of
+the villages in the East that had welcomed the invaders with powder and
+shot.
+
+By degrees Leigoutte, like its neighbors, began to hold up its head
+once more, and the few survivors agreed to take care of the women and
+children who had been left without protectors. The oldest among them
+remembered Simon's teachings, and repeated them to their children.
+
+One day they experienced a great surprise. It became known that a
+stranger had purchased the land on which had formerly stood the inn and
+the school of Simon Fougere. Every one wondered what the old man, who
+seemed to be an intendant, meant to do with this place, about which hung
+so many sad legends. Then came an architect, who employed the workmen in
+the village. They were paid well and promptly. The older inhabitants
+were consulted as to the plan of the old inn and the school.
+
+When wonder had passed, the villagers were amazed to find the inn had
+been built exactly like the old one that had been burned by the emigres.
+Yes, there was the large, well-lighted room where Francoise, with her
+little girl in her arms, had cordially welcomed the travelers, while
+little Jacques flew about with bright cheeks and brighter eyes. The
+sign, too, was just the same as the old one. The only difference was
+that the tri-colored flag did not wave in the morning breeze. The new
+proprietor was named Pierre Labarre. Who was he? No one knew. He had a
+benevolent face, and he liked to talk of Simon Fougere, and made the
+villagers tell him the story of his death over and over again. Sometimes
+he was seen to listen with tears in his eyes.
+
+"He knew him, that's sure!" said the peasants.
+
+He selected a man and his wife to keep the inn. They had two children, a
+boy and a girl. The girl was named Francine. This completed the
+resemblance to the past. As a schoolmaster, Pierre appointed an old
+soldier, who was intelligent and honest.
+
+Once more Leigoutte began to take heart. Pierre Labarre spent several
+days each year in the village, and yet the good people knew nothing of
+him more than his name. Pierre Labarre was not the real benefactor, who
+slept in his tomb, but when dying he had said to his old servant:
+
+"I have been unfaithful to my duty toward Simon. I have been cowardly
+toward him. I have a large amount for my grandchildren, where, you alone
+will know. Seek these children, and make them rich. If Fate be against
+us, if you cannot find these children, consecrate this fortune to making
+the name of Simon beloved. Go to the poor village of Leigoutte, and let
+those who loved him, that is, all who knew him, be the heirs of that son
+whom the Marquis de Fongereues adored in his heart."
+
+For many years he sought in vain for the smallest clue, but one day,
+after much discouragement, a new hope sprang to life in his heart. It
+was when the so-called Marquis de Fongereues came to demand at his hands
+the secret entrusted to the old man by his master. The very violence of
+the two men on that day proved that Simon's son was living. Had he been
+dead, the heirs of the Fongereues would have applied to the courts.
+
+Then Pierre Labarre resumed his search, and an old man was continually
+seen on all the highways and by-ways of France, entering the humblest
+cottages and asking, in tremulous tones:
+
+"Do you remember? It was in 1814."
+
+But this was ten years ago. No one had seen two children flying for
+their lives. How many hopes were based upon a word, and how many
+disappointments followed!
+
+Finally, he determined to act on the last words of his dying master, and
+he went to Leigoutte. It was an idea of his own to restore to Leigoutte
+its old look, the look it had one day long before when Simon Fougere
+gave him a seat at his fireside, and Jacques looked at the stranger with
+his big, earnest eyes, while Cinette ran around the room.
+
+The evening of which we write, this old servant of an emigre sat under
+the trees opposite the school-room. He had gathered the village children
+about him. Night was coming on, but the spring air was soft and sweet.
+He spoke in a low voice, for the authorities of the village might have
+considered his words as somewhat of an incendiary nature. He said,
+softly:
+
+"In other days, in Simon Fougere's school, all the children said, 'Vive
+la France! Vive la Republique!'"
+
+And the little children repeated these words: "Vive la France! Vive la
+Republique!"
+
+At this moment a strange scene took place on the Square. Two shadows,
+dimly seen in the twilight, were kneeling before the inn. No one had
+seen them approach. Pierre Labarre was the first to notice them, and he
+felt a quick contraction of the heart that heralded some unlooked-for
+event. He rose quickly, and signed to the children to keep perfectly
+still. He nearly reached the two unknown without their hearing him. He
+saw that one was endeavoring to raise the other, who seemed to be
+infirm. She extended her hand to the inn, and seemed to be saying
+something, and then the two slowly mounted the steps of the inn.
+
+Pierre, who was very near them, heard a sob. Who could they be? Pierre
+asked himself. The two strangers were now in the large room, where
+nothing seemed changed since the day that the wounded soldier leaned
+against the wall, exhausted by suffering and fatigue. There was the huge
+chimney, and there the shining tables.
+
+The infirm woman now walks unaided. She goes straight to the fireplace,
+and seats herself in a chair. She looks at the door eagerly and
+expectantly.
+
+Labarre again asked himself who this woman was, and what frightful
+accident had so injured her. Suddenly, while Labarre was watching her,
+the woman smiled.
+
+"Ah! you have come, Simon!" she said with a smile, as if speaking to
+some one who had just come in. "The children are waiting for you, and
+the soup is ready. Jacques has been good, but you must talk to
+Cinette--she is a perfect little fiend, sometimes!"
+
+Labarre, with his heart in his mouth, clutched at the wall to prevent
+himself from falling.
+
+"Come! Cinette--come; you must not be naughty!"
+
+It was plain to Labarre who this person was--he had heard her voice
+before. But this girl--who was she?
+
+The old man now entered the room. The girl saw him, and said,
+apologetically:
+
+"Pray, do not scold us--we mean no harm."
+
+"Whoever asks hospitality at this door receives it," answered Labarre.
+"But tell who you both are."
+
+Caillette, for it was she, laid her finger on her lips and whispered
+low:
+
+"She is mad!"
+
+Tears came to the old man's eyes.
+
+"I beg of you," he asked again, "to tell me who this woman is."
+
+"A poor, sick creature, who was once very happy. She has lost her
+husband and her children, and met with some terrible accident beside."
+
+"But her name?"
+
+"I have not the smallest idea. Cinette always calls her mamma."
+
+"Cinette! Who bears that name?"
+
+"A good little girl in Paris, who earns her bread by singing in the
+streets. It now seems that she is the sister of Fanfar. It is a very
+strange sorrow, one fall of sorrow!"
+
+"And Fanfar--whom do you call Fanfar?" asked the old man, with a
+troubled face.
+
+Caillette started. She remembered that her love had been disdained, but
+she was kind-hearted, of the stuff of which martyrs are made.
+
+"Fanfar was a foundling. He is now a young man both good and handsome."
+
+"Where have I heard that name?" Labarre said to himself.
+
+Suddenly the woman seated in the chair looked up.
+
+"Excuse the simplicity of the arrangements--the inn does as well as
+possible."
+
+"Francoise Fougere!" he cried.
+
+Francoise started up, as if sustained by supernatural strength.
+
+"Who calls me?" she cried. "Who is it that speaks my name?"
+
+"Francoise, do you remember Simon, Jacques, Cinette?"
+
+"My children? Yes, yes--I remember them. Where is it that I have just
+seen them? Oh! yes--I remember. I was all alone. Cinette's little bed
+was empty, and then the door opened and Jacques came!"
+
+"Is he alive?" cried Labarre.
+
+"Yes," answered Caillette. "They knew each other at once."
+
+"But where is Francine?"
+
+"She has been abducted by the Vicomte de Talizac."
+
+"Talizac!"
+
+Labarre caught at a chair for support. Francoise heard these words.
+
+"Talizac! Oh! the base, cruel man. Quick! we cannot stay here. I must
+save Francine and Jacques. Oh! my box--where is my box?"
+
+My readers must now learn how Francoise and Caillette found themselves
+at Leigoutte. They will remember that just as Fanfar recognized in the
+poor, sick woman the mother whose loss he had so deeply deplored, and
+in Francine the worshipped little sister whose agonized cries he had
+heard in the subterranean passages among the Vosges, all clue was lost,
+for Bobichel vanished, and with him Caillette.
+
+And Gudel's daughter, who loved Fanfar with a love that was without
+hope, said to him:
+
+"She is your mother. Will you allow me to take care of her?"
+
+Fanfar looked at Caillette with loving, grateful eyes, and then hastened
+away with Bobichel and Gudel.
+
+Then Caillette was left alone with the sick woman, who began to cry and
+sob. Her mind had been so long torpid that now this shock seemed to have
+swept away the last vestige of her intelligence. But Caillette was good
+and patient, and finally the sick woman slept. Caillette watched her and
+waited through the twilight, and at last, holding the hand of her charge
+in hers, she too fell asleep.
+
+When the girl opened her eyes it was daybreak, and the bed was empty.
+Yes, Fanfar's mother, whom she had promised to guard, had vanished. She
+ran into the next room. No one was there, and the door was open.
+
+Caillette ran to the concierge. "Where is she?" she cried.
+
+"Do you mean the old woman? Oh! she went away before light."
+
+"Impossible! She cannot walk."
+
+"I was astonished myself, but my wife said to me, who is that coming
+down stairs? I looked, and I saw a ghost--not a pretty one either,
+begging your pardon. It was the paralytic, the old woman who had never
+walked a step all the while that the Marquise took care of her.
+
+"'Where are you going?' I said to her.
+
+"'To save Jacques.'"
+
+"Jacques is her son, go on, quick," interrupted Caillette.
+
+"'But you can't save any one,' I then said. This was not kind, Miss, but
+I was so astonished. She did not seem to mind it though, for she began
+to talk about a box, and told me to open the door. I had no right to
+disobey, you know."
+
+"And she went away?" cried Caillette.
+
+"Yes, and quick enough, too."
+
+Caillette did not wait to hear more. She flew down the stairs also.
+
+It was seven o'clock in the morning. Caillette did not dare to find
+Jacques, and tell him she had been faithless to her trust. No, she must
+find Francoise herself. She asked questions of all she met, and at last
+she had a ray of light. An old rag picker told her that he had seen a
+woman answering to the description given by Caillette. She at once
+started in the direction he pointed out; it was the road to Germany she
+took. She sold a small gold locket, which held a bit of ribbon from a
+sash Fanfar had once given her. She kept the ribbon, and received
+several crowns for the locket. She walked all day, finally certain that
+Francoise was not far in advance. It was not until the morning of the
+second day that the girl was rewarded by seeing Francoise at the door
+of an inn. Caillette rushed forward.
+
+"Mother!" she cried.
+
+"Ah! you know her?" said the innkeeper. "She is very strange."
+
+"What did she say to you?"
+
+"She asked for bread, and ate it without a word. Then, just as she saw
+you, she asked me where some village was. I never heard the name
+before."
+
+The old woman now came to meet Caillette.
+
+"Leigoutte!" she said. "Leigoutte!"
+
+"Leigoutte!" repeated Caillette, "that is Fanfar's village."
+
+The old woman shook her head, she did not know the name.
+
+"I mean Leigoutte is where Jacques came from."
+
+"Yes--yes--Jacques. I must save Jacques and the box!"
+
+What was going on in the impaired mind of Francoise? Fanfar's sudden
+appearance had carried her memory back to the last interview she had
+with Simon, when, our readers will remember, he had given his wife the
+papers that proved his birth and that of Jacques. And now Francoise had
+but one idea, to return to Leigoutte. In vain did Caillette urge her to
+return to Paris, and the girl had promised Fanfar not to leave his
+mother. She therefore went on toward Germany with her. Fortunately, a
+wagoner took pity on these two women, and took them up. In this way they
+reached Leigoutte. Francoise was silent, except a few low words that she
+muttered under her breath at long intervals. Caillette thought with
+despair of Fanfar, and his agony at his mother's disappearance.
+
+Alas! poor girl, she did not know that the night when she and Francoise
+entered the inn at Leigoutte, Fanfar, alone in his prison, thought of
+his mother whom he had scarcely seen, and of the sister whom he had held
+in his arms. Ah! it was a bitter trial for the strong, faithful heart.
+
+Caillette and Pierre Labarre watched Francoise, when finally she arose
+from her chair, and went toward the door. On the threshold she seemed to
+hesitate. She thrust back her gray hair, and pressed her hand to her
+brow. Then, as if she suddenly remembered something, she turned and went
+toward the door in the back of the house, Caillette and Pierre following
+her every step she took. She went out into the garden, and up a winding
+path to the hill, which she began to climb with panting breath.
+
+"Ah! she is going to the little farm of Lasvene which was burned," said
+Pierre to himself.
+
+Then, all the time watching Francoise, he began to question Caillette.
+
+What motive had Francoise in these persistent wanderings? Was it merely
+the whim of a mad woman or had she some fixed design?
+
+Francoise walked on. Sometimes she stopped short, and called Jacques,
+then Cinette. Labarre asked himself if it were not his duty to stop this
+poor woman, but a secret instinct bade him watch her to the end.
+
+An hour elapsed, but Francoise seemed to feel no fatigue. At the
+cross-roads she did not hesitate. Finally they reached the Gorge
+d'Outremont. In the fast gathering darkness, the place was horrible and
+gloomy. As in a former description we have said, the mountain seemed at
+this gorge to have been cleft in twain by a gigantic hatchet.
+
+At this moment, the clouds parted, and a pale young moon looked down on
+the landscape.
+
+Francoise stopped short, Pierre well knew why. The little cottage of old
+Lasvene had vanished, and the poor woman was bewildered. Labarre went to
+her, and took her hand. He knew where the foundations of the cottage
+were, and convinced that this was why she had come, he led her to the
+ruins. She laughed in a childish way.
+
+"Burned? Ah! yes;" she repeated the cry of the Cossacks. "Death to the
+French!" And then she began to run.
+
+It was an outbreak of madness. Caillette and Pierre uttered cries of
+fright.
+
+The mystery of such a strange occurrence may never be solved, but
+Francoise threw herself on the ground in a corner where the little
+garden had stood, and began to dig furiously in the earth. Presently,
+she screamed:
+
+"The box! The box! Jacques is not my son; Cinette is the Marquise de
+Fongereues. Jacques--Fanfar is Vicomte de Talizac!" And she fell
+unconscious into the arms of Labarre.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXV.
+
+THE NEST.
+
+
+Two white beds stood near each other. Muslin curtains tied with blue
+ribbons covered the windows with billowy folds. Among the pillows of one
+of the beds lay a beautiful face, and a young girl at her side held her
+frail hands.
+
+This chamber was that of Irene de Salves, and very unlike it was to the
+chamber of the spoiled child in the Chateau des Vosges. There she had
+created a mixture of all colors--violent reds and yellows. Now
+everything was delicate and calm. The sweet face among the pillows was
+Francine's. The two young girls were like sisters. Irene felt that to
+love, protect, and care for Francine, was to love Fanfar. The shock
+Francine had experienced was terrible; she hardly knew what had taken
+place--whether she deliberately threw herself into the water, or whether
+faint and dizzy, she fell in; when Fanfar leaped to her rescue she clung
+to him convulsively. Then came the fever and delirium, and when she was
+at last conscious she beheld a sweet face bending over her, and Irene
+said, "Courage, sister, courage!"
+
+Francine, surprised and touched, extended her thin hands, but suddenly
+imagining that she was again in the house where she had suffered so
+much, she shrieked "Let me die! Let me die!"
+
+A relapse took place, and for several days her life hung on a thread.
+Irene was indefatigable in her care, and finally she began to recover
+very slowly.
+
+She questioned Irene as soon as she was able. What had become of the
+poor woman, the care of whom she had assumed? Hardly had she escaped
+from the jaws of death, than she began to think of others. Irene could
+tell her little. Ever since the violent scene of the ball, Arthur de
+Montferrand, without confessing his real motives, for he loved Francine,
+had placed himself at the disposal of Irene. He had divined her secret,
+and prevented her from betraying it to the curious crowd.
+
+Fanfar was in prison. His trial was soon coming on. It was believed that
+his condemnation was certain. The disturbance to the health of the king,
+consequent on the attempted assassination at the Tuileries, had, it was
+said, greatly embittered the monarchists. A report was in circulation
+that an infamous comedy had been enacted by this Fanfar and his sister
+in order to break off the marriage between Talizac and Mademoiselle de
+Salves, a money-making scheme, worthy of a street singer and a
+mountebank.
+
+The sick woman had disappeared. This intelligence drove Francine to
+despair. Who was this Caillette, who had pretended to take her place,
+and then disappeared, leaving no trace behind her?
+
+"But," said Francine, "who was it who saved me?"
+
+"Do you not know?" answered Irene, coloring deeply.
+
+"No, I heard you mention a name that I do not know."
+
+"Yes, that of Monsieur Fanfar."
+
+"Who is he?"
+
+Irene looked at her and wondered if in her fever the girl's reason had
+deserted her.
+
+"I do not understand. Do you not know your brother?"
+
+"My brother!"
+
+Irene passed her hand over her troubled brow.
+
+"My brother. Ah! what is it you say? I never had but one brother, dear
+little Jacques, who was always so good and kind to me!"
+
+"Jacques! but that is the name of--Monsieur Fanfar!"
+
+"I tell you," answered Francine, "that I never met any one of that name.
+Stop a moment, I remember a company of mountebanks on the Square; they
+were under the management of a man called Iron Jaws, and with him was
+this Fanfar, if I don't mistake."
+
+"Precisely, and this Fanfar is your brother, I heard him say so,
+himself, when I went to help you. He said to me, 'she is my sister--'"
+
+"Where is he? I must see him. He saved my life. Suppose that he is
+Jacques! But no, poor Jacques is dead!"
+
+Irene could not help the poor girl; although she fully believed in the
+truth of what Fanfar had said, she could offer no proof.
+
+Suddenly Francine exclaimed, "If he is my Jacques, he ought to be about
+twenty. He ought to be very handsome."
+
+Irene colored, as she said, "He is handsome!"
+
+"With black eyes, and brown curling hair?"
+
+Irene was unwilling to admit that she had studied Fanfar in all these
+details, but she stammered out, "Yes, that describes him."
+
+"For pity's sake, tell me all you know!"
+
+Irene asked herself why she should hesitate. After all there was nothing
+to be ashamed of in her sentiments towards Fanfar.
+
+"I will tell you all," she said, in a low voice.
+
+"Why are you so disturbed?" asked Francine. "When you mention the name
+of this Fanfar, you have tears in your eyes."
+
+Irene buried her face on her friend's shoulder: "I love him!" she
+whispered, "and I love you as if you were my sister!"
+
+The two young girls embraced each other tenderly.
+
+"But where is he?" said Francine, disengaging herself, "I wish to see
+him."
+
+Irene started. Alas! amid all these emotions she had forgotten the sad
+truth that the brother, whom Francine ardently desired to embrace, was
+in a narrow cell, crushed under the accusation of an attempt on the life
+of the king.
+
+"Why do you not tell me where I can find him?" asked Francine, her eyes
+bright with fever.
+
+At this moment the door opened, and a tall and stately individual, known
+as Madame Ursula, made a sign to Irene, who instantly obeyed the
+summons, glad to avoid the necessity of replying to Francine's
+questions.
+
+"What is it?" she said.
+
+Madame Ursula was unchanged. She was still in a constant state of horror
+at Irene's conduct and defiance of conventionalities.
+
+"A very strange looking man wishes to speak to the young lady."
+
+"She can not receive him," replied Irene, promptly.
+
+"So I supposed, but I delivered the message because I thought she knew
+this person, and I myself have seen him before." Madame Ursula looked
+down in some confusion. "He was pretending to be a frog, on a certain
+occasion--"
+
+"I do not understand you."
+
+"He is one of those clowns who amused the peasants at Saint Ame."
+
+"His name! his name!" cried Irene, impatiently.
+
+"I don't know his name. He wore a gray hat--"
+
+"Bobichel! It must be Bobichel!"
+
+Irene had forgotten none of these names.
+
+"Let him come in!" she cried. "Let him come in!"
+
+In another moment Bobichel appeared. Was this the poor clown? No; there
+were no smiles on his lips, no quips and cranks on his tongue. His
+thinness had become emaciation.
+
+Irene went forward.
+
+"You come from him?" she said, hastily.
+
+"From Fanfar? Oh! no--not directly, at least. They won't let me see him,
+you know."
+
+"Who sends you here, then?"
+
+"Gudel--Iron Jaws, you know."
+
+"Why did he not come himself?"
+
+"Ah! that I can't say. Gudel bade me give this note to you."
+
+Irene broke the seal. The envelope contained two letters. One was
+directed to "Miss _Irainne_," the other to "Mademoiselle de Salves." Why
+did she open the latter? Did she know from the defective orthography
+that the first could not come from Fanfar? The letter she opened was
+from Fanfar. This was it:
+
+
+  "You, who are so good and kind, be doubly so to the sister I found
+  when too late. The hour draws near when the so-called justice of man
+  will strike an innocent person. You do not doubt me, I know. I am not
+  one who would dishonor a sacred cause. Say to my sister that little
+  Jacques has endeavored to be worthy of his father--Simon Fougere.
+
+  "I beg my adopted father, Gudel, to explain to you in detail the
+  singular events of my life. I place entire confidence in you. I leave
+  to your care poor Francoise and little Cinette. Love them, and they
+  will return your affection. You have not forgotten the words addressed
+  to you so long ago: 'Make yourself beloved.'
+
+  "I do not know whether I should now bid you an eternal farewell. I
+  recognize the fact that I am the object of venomous hatred to some
+  one, but to whom? Let no one seek to solve this mystery. I forgive
+  this enemy, whomsoever he may be.
+
+  "In a few days--to-morrow, perhaps--my fate will be decided. Do not
+  despair."
+
+
+Tears filled Irene's eyes as she finished this letter.
+
+Bobichel watched her all the time, restraining his sobs with difficulty.
+
+"You love him!" he said softly, "and you are right, for he is the best
+man I ever knew!"
+
+Irene extended her hand, and the clown knelt to kiss it.
+
+"But we must save him!" cried Irene. "He shall not be condemned--"
+
+"Condemned?" said a voice. "Of whom do you speak?"
+
+Francine, obeying an impulse, had thrown on a peignoir of white
+cashmere, and appeared, white and trembling, at the door. Irene ran to
+her side.
+
+"Courage! sister," she cried, "courage!"
+
+Then Irene herself gave way, and burst into passionate weeping. Francine
+took her brother's letter and read it slowly, but when she came to the
+words "little Jacques" and "Cinette," her eyes closed, and she would
+have fallen had not Bobichel caught her.
+
+"You must not cry like that!" he said. "You must not weep. We will save
+Fanfar! Please, Mademoiselle Irene, read the letter Iron Jaws sends you.
+He has an idea, and he knows what he is about. He will save Fanfar!"
+
+Bobichel's confidence was so great, his honest affection was so
+apparent, that the two girls exchanged a hopeful glance.
+
+"Read!" said Francine.
+
+Iron Jaws' letter was not faultless in respect to orthography. Its
+errors we will not repeat:
+
+
+  "Fanfar must be saved! I know your attachment for him. You have great
+  influence with people in power. Try to see him, and give him something
+  that Bobichel will hand you. I rely on your doing this."
+
+
+"What am I to say to Iron Jaws?" asked Bobichel.
+
+"Tell him that I will do all he asks. But you have another note for me?"
+
+"No, not a note." And Bobichel, with infinite care, took from the flap
+of his coat a pin, an ordinary pin though of large size, not large
+enough, however, to excite the smallest suspicion.
+
+"Do you see that?" cried the clown, with much of his former gayety. "Do
+you see that, ladies and gentlemen? This pin does not look like much,
+does it, now? But you can screw off the head, and then you will find a
+tiny note--"
+
+"It is most ingenious," said Irene, with a smile "and it shall be
+delivered as you desire."
+
+"Ah! you are a brave creature, and if some day you want some one to
+amuse your children--that is, when you have any, you know--send for me,
+and I will be frogs for them all day long!"
+
+And with this somewhat startling promise, Bobichel departed.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXVI.
+
+SUPREME EFFORT.
+
+
+Monsieur de Fongereues was alone in his cabinet. Magdalena had left him
+only a few moments before. A violent scene had taken place between the
+husband and wife.
+
+The ruin that threatened the Fongereues mansion had been temporarily
+staved off by the marriage that had been arranged between Irene and the
+Vicomte, but as soon as the world knew that the marriage was broken off,
+the tongues of gossips began to wag.
+
+The Fongereues felt that their doom was sealed when they knew that
+Irene's millions were forever lost to them. Then this unhappy pair began
+to quarrel. To Magdalena's violent reproaches Fongereues answered by
+violent recriminations. Was it not her senseless indulgence that had
+caused the Vicomte to become the depraved and worthless person upon whom
+every one now turned a cold shoulder? If they were ruined, was it not
+because of the mad extravagance of mother and son?
+
+And Magdalena replied:
+
+"If I have been weak, was it not still more your duty to be strong? Who
+is the proper guide for a young man if not his father? You have been
+faithless to your duties, and, moreover, has he a vice which is not
+yours?"
+
+Fongereues foamed with rage, and before he could speak his wife had the
+audacity to say:
+
+"You are choked by the blood of your brother!"
+
+She thus reproached him for a crime that he had committed at her
+instigation. A moment more and this great lord would have demeaned
+himself to brutalities worthy of a lacquey, but with a look of contempt
+Magdalena swept past him and left the room. And now, crushed into a
+large arm-chair, the Marquis sat with his eyes fixed on the floor.
+
+"Count Fernando de Vellebri wishes to see you," a servant knocked at the
+door to say.
+
+"One moment!" answered the Marquis.
+
+He hurried to his dressing room, bathed his face in cold water and
+hastily brushed his fast whitening hair. He took his seat at his desk,
+which was covered with papers.
+
+"Show Monsieur de Vellebri up," he said.
+
+He shuddered as he spoke, for he had learned through Cyprien that this
+Fernando belonged to the society of the Jesuits. The young man entered.
+
+He was no longer the obsequious person with the stereotyped smile, who
+had done the will of the Vicomte de Talizac. Dressed in black, a long
+single-breasted coat, Fernando was the type of the Jesuits who pervaded
+French society. His dark hair rendered his pallor more remarkable. His
+half closed eyes were brilliant in spite of their heavy lids.
+
+Fongereues divined a contest. What new struggle would he be compelled
+to undergo? He pointed to a chair, but the Italian bowed and remained
+standing.
+
+"You wished to see me," said the Marquis, "and I am at your service. But
+what is this costume? I was not aware that you belonged to any religious
+society, officially, at least."
+
+"As to my claims to this dress," answered De Vellebri, coldly, "I am
+quite ready to explain them, if you will condescend to listen to me."
+
+His voice was monotonous, as he continued:
+
+"You are not ignorant, sir, of how greatly the conduct of the Vicomte de
+Talizac has compromised himself and his family."
+
+"I beg your pardon," interrupted the Marquis, "but may I ask if you were
+not the companion of my son in most of his excesses?"
+
+Fernando smiled satirically.
+
+"Perhaps you are not quite aware of the part I played in these excesses.
+Monsieur de Talizac is not a child, to be influenced for good or evil by
+his friends. Perhaps, instead of accusing me, you should thank me for
+having saved the honor of your house more than once."
+
+"Indeed, sir! I confess I do not understand."
+
+"It seems to me," said Fernando, still very calm, "that we are wandering
+from the real subject of this conversation. A powerful Society, sir,
+attached above all else to the practice of all virtues and to the
+triumph of God's cause, has for a long time been watching you. Your
+influence and your talents all give a guarantee that you may become a
+most useful auxiliary to the society to which I have the honor to
+belong."
+
+"The Society of Jesus?" interrupted the Marquis.
+
+Fernando did not reply to this direct question other than with a slight
+bow.
+
+"This society," he continued, "is disposed to come to your aid. It is
+they who have prevented His Majesty from revoking the favors shown to
+your son."
+
+Fongereues uttered an exclamation of surprise.
+
+"And they, too, will enable you to re-conquer the rank to which you
+belong."
+
+"On condition that I will be their slave!" said the Marquis, with a
+constrained smile.
+
+It was certain that in this terrible crisis the Marquis was ready to
+snatch at anything that would save him. But in spite of himself, he felt
+an invincible repugnance to giving himself up entirely to the control of
+these people and to have no will of his own. He hesitated. Fernando
+seemed to read his every thought.
+
+"I think, sir," he said, "that you exaggerate the consequences of the
+step I suggest."
+
+"And if I refuse?"
+
+"You will not refuse," said the Italian, quietly.
+
+Fongereues bit his lips.
+
+"What does the Society of Jesus require of me?"
+
+"Two things--a great service and a guarantee."
+
+"What do they offer me?"
+
+"The position of Prime Minister."
+
+The Marquis started.
+
+"I do not understand you," he said.
+
+"The position of Prime Minister."
+
+Beads of sweat broke out on the brow of the Marquis. He knew that the
+society was strong enough to keep its promises. He knew that as Prime
+Minister all his dreams of power and wealth would be realized.
+
+"You spoke also of a service and a guarantee," he said, quietly.
+
+"The service is the greatest that can be rendered by any man to the
+Catholic world and to his Holiness the Pope."
+
+Fernando lowered his voice.
+
+"You are aware, sir, that by a Royal Edict of 1764 the Jesuits were
+expelled from France. Two years since, in 1822, His Majesty, unable to
+elevate in its integrity the standard of Catholicism, contented himself
+with authorizing the sojourn in France of the Fathers of the Faith. The
+time has now come to arrest these persecutions entailed on the Society
+of Jesus. We are resolved that they shall be solemnly re-established
+under their own name, with all their rights and privileges, and this not
+by virtue of a royal edict, but by a legal measure emanating from the
+Chamber of Peers. This is a bold act and one full of danger. We are
+fully aware of it, and do not propose to deny it. To carry out this plan
+successfully would require great dexterity and astuteness, as well as
+profound faith in the justice of the cause you defend. The reward would
+be the dazzling recompense I have named. Monsieur de Fongereues, are
+you--can you be this man?"
+
+Fongereues started to his feet.
+
+"Yes--I can!" he cried.
+
+"We will assist you," said the Jesuit. "We are certain of the support of
+a respectable minority. It is for you to scatter rewards, and warm
+lukewarm consciences, and I repeat, sir--a work like this is
+magnificent."
+
+"I belong to you, heart and soul," said Fongereues, "and to-morrow--"
+
+"Wait," said Vellebri, laying his hand on the arm of the Marquis, thus
+forcing him back to his seat. "I spoke of a guarantee."
+
+"Ah! yes," answered Fongereues, "my word of honor, I presume, is
+enough?"
+
+Fernando did not seem to think a reply incumbent upon him. He continued:
+
+"The man in whom the Society places enough confidence to entrust him
+with arms which will ensure his victory, should be bound to them by
+strong ties."
+
+Fongereues listened with interest and curiosity.
+
+"And the strongest ties are those of gold," said the Jesuit, slowly and
+distinctly. "You questioned me as to my claim to my dress. I am the
+Secretary of the General of the Society, and I am required to ask, if
+you are willing to aid in the establishment of houses like those of
+Montrouge and Saint-Acheul in Parma and Tuscany?"
+
+"Most certainly," answered Fongereues, uneasily, for this allusion to
+money was most unwelcome. "I am ready to second all efforts of this
+Society, but still it would be necessary for me to know just what amount
+would be required of me. My resources are just now greatly restricted,
+and--"
+
+"Do not be concerned," said Vellebri, coldly, "the amount need not
+disturb you." Fongereues sighed with relief. "You will have to give but
+one million."
+
+"A million!" repeated the Marquis, in despair.
+
+"In fixing this sum our Superiors have merely carried out their plan of
+attaching you to their cause."
+
+"But a million!" repeated the Marquis, "it is impossible. Were I to sell
+all that I now have in the world, I should not realize the half of this
+sum!"
+
+"Is this, then, a refusal?"
+
+"By no means. But a million!--I haven't it," and he repeated these words
+over and over again.
+
+"But you have resources which should make such a sacrifice easy."
+
+"No, you are mistaken. I am ruined, entirely ruined!"
+
+His agitation was so great that he forgot to dissimulate.
+
+"But the fortune of your father was very large, and cannot be
+exhausted."
+
+"But I was robbed of that!"
+
+Fernando rose from his chair.
+
+"Permit me," he said, "to decline to enter into any affairs foreign to
+the matters we have under consideration. I came to offer you peace or
+war. Peace means fortune and power, and war--"
+
+"War!" repeated Fongereues, "I do not understand you."
+
+"When the Society proposes a compact, when, as I have just done to you,
+she unveils her secret designs, she holds in reserve a weapon which
+places at her mercy the man of whom she wished to make an ally, and whom
+she does not choose to have for an adversary."
+
+"I! I an adversary of the Society of Jesus! You cannot mean what you
+say."
+
+"Everything is possible, Marquis. This is our ultimatum--either you will
+accept the proposals I have made, and placing in my hands within five
+days the million I ask, you will at once begin the campaign whose
+success is certain, or within five days a certain person will place in
+the hands of the Procureur de Roi papers which will be your ruin."
+
+"What do you mean?"
+
+Fongereues was livid as he asked this question.
+
+"They are notes, forged by the Vicomte, your son!"
+
+"Talizac a forger! Impossible!"
+
+"I assure you that it is only too true. Once more, let me ask for your
+decision."
+
+"I beg you to remember that my devotion to the Society is unalterable.
+But a million--you know!"
+
+"You understand," repeated Vellebri, "it is a million that is demanded?"
+
+"Yes, I know. Grant me a little time."
+
+"We give you five days, as I said, at the end of which time the
+proposition I have named must be presented to the Chamber of Peers."
+
+"I will present it."
+
+"But the Society will not permit you to interfere until you have given
+the required guarantee. And now, good-morning, sir."
+
+In vain did Fongereues petition the Italian to remain, but Fernando
+bowed coldly and departed.
+
+Fongereues sank back in his chair, utterly crushed. For a few moments he
+had indulged in the hope of a proud future, and now, knowing that he
+could not raise a million, he felt that he was in deeper perplexity than
+ever.
+
+Cyprien now appeared.
+
+"You made a mistake, sir, in hesitating for a moment. Write to the
+Society that before five days have elapsed you will have fulfilled the
+conditions imposed."
+
+"That would be folly!"
+
+"Is not Fanfar in prison?"
+
+"What of that? He will not be condemned."
+
+"By the judges, possibly not--but by us."
+
+Fongereues held himself more erect.
+
+"Tell me what you mean, Cyprien?" he asked.
+
+The lacquey laughed.
+
+"I mean simply, that I will kill this Fanfar!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXVII.
+
+THE TRIAL.
+
+
+Political trials are all much alike, and this of Fanfar was no
+exception. On the day that it was to take place the pretended assassin
+and his pretended accomplice (that is to say Fanfar), were led to the
+court-room, where the magistrates, in their red robes and ermine, were
+seated. The newspapers, while attacking Fanfar furiously, had not
+omitted to mention that the accused was excessively handsome. This
+naturally brought a large number of women to the trial, and when the
+prisoner appeared, there was a low hum of admiration and surprise.
+Fanfar's companion, the man of whom Fanfar had made, it was said, a
+tool, excited neither admiration nor sympathy. Fanfar looked at him once
+and turned away in disgust.
+
+It is now the proper time to say that this man, whom Cyprien had chosen
+to play the part of regicide, was none other than Fanfar's former enemy,
+Robeccal himself, who had been found in the closet and liberated by
+Cyprien.
+
+This man had fallen so low that it mattered little to him what he did.
+The lacquey Cyprien profited by this mood, and in a short time obtained
+the result he desired.
+
+To the declaration of the accused, who had been found secreted in the
+Tuileries, Fanfar replied with contempt. He told who this man was, and
+the crimes of which he had been guilty. All this, however, by no means
+proved that he himself was innocent of participation in the crime.
+Fanfar had not mentioned the affair of the deserted house, for he did
+not wish his sister's name to appear. This was a great relief to
+Robeccal, who, in spite of the manner in which he had been treated by La
+Roulante, did not wish to get her into trouble.
+
+The trial took its course. Robeccal wept and expressed great penitence,
+said that he loved the king, etc. All this produced an excellent effect
+on the jury, who considered the fellow a little simple.
+
+Then came Fanfar's turn. He stood with arms folded on his breast, and
+once turned and looked toward the end of the court-room. He probably saw
+what he wished, for he smiled, and a light came into his eyes. Then he
+looked again at the President, and waited. In reality there was no other
+charge against him than the persistent declaration of Robeccal, but this
+was by the judges considered quite proof enough of his culpability.
+
+"You belong to a secret association, do you not?" asked the judge.
+
+"I am a Frenchman," answered Fanfar, "and like others of this heroic
+nation claim liberty of thought and action. Do you call France a secret
+society?"
+
+The President reproved Fanfar for this speech, and called him in his
+anger an assassin. The young man replied, in a voice of great feeling:
+
+"Only those," he said, "should be called assassins who have cut the
+throat of France and plucked a blood-stained crown from the men!"
+
+There was a great tumult. "Bravo! Fanfar," said a voice among the
+audience.
+
+Naturally a dozen innocent men were accused of uttering this incendiary
+exclamation, while Gudel, in a quiet livery, was not interfered with.
+Irene de Salves never moved her eyes from Fanfar. Finally, quiet was
+restored.
+
+"Mr. President," said Fanfar, "my father fell in the French frontier,
+fighting against the Cossacks and the emigres. There are no assassins in
+our family!"
+
+From this moment the trial went on rapidly. The sentence was a foregone
+conclusion.
+
+Robeccal was condemned to death. Fanfar, under the name of Jacques
+Fougere, was sentenced to the galleys for life.
+
+But just as the sentenced was pronounced, a singular event occurred.
+Fanfar rose and opened his lips as if to speak, extended his arm, and
+fell full length on the floor. Cries of astonishment arose from the
+crowd.
+
+"He has killed himself!" cried some.
+
+"He has been poisoned!" said others.
+
+Irene hastened to find Gudel. She had seen him near the door, but he had
+vanished. The crowd departed, saying to each other, sadly:
+
+"He is dead!"
+
+Robeccal was carried off more dead than alive. His sentence had
+frightened him. Perhaps he had not unbounded confidence in the honest
+people who had employed him.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXVIII.
+
+THE CRISIS.
+
+
+"At last!" cried the Marquis, when the news of Fanfar's death reached
+him. He sent for Magdalena.
+
+"Madame!" he said, "rejoice with me. Let us forget our mutual wrongs,
+for a new horizon stretches before us. All our anxieties are over. The
+man who stood between us and the possession of a fortune is dead!"
+
+"Of whom do you speak?"
+
+"Of this Fanfar, who, after making an attempt on the life of our king,
+was struck dead in the court-room during his trial."
+
+"And this Fanfar was the son of Simon de Fongereues?"
+
+"Yes, Madame, of my brother. And our father, who hated us, as you know,
+left the larger part of his fortune in the care of a fanatical
+body-servant of his, who held it as in trust for Simon's son whenever he
+should find him. He refused to relinquish this trust until he had proof
+of the death of the youth. Now he must be made to speak, for the only
+heir of the Fongereues fortune is myself, and I shall appeal to the
+law."
+
+The Marquise talked with her husband for a long time. The next thing to
+do was to make Gudel speak frankly. This he had no hesitation in doing,
+and he again told the story he had told to the Marquis.
+
+As to Pierre Labarre, of course he could make no further resistance. So
+long as the Marquis knew that Fanfar was living he had been obliged to
+be cautious; now no such reason existed.
+
+The dreams of the Marquis were realized--a million for the Jesuits, and
+the gratification of his ambition and pride.
+
+"Our son will be rich and happy!" said Magdalena, in an ecstasy of joy.
+"But where is the boy? Write, Marquis, write to him at once. He must be
+suffering intolerably in this exile you have imposed upon him."
+
+But Fongereues did not heed her words. He was thinking of other things.
+
+"Cyprien has served me well!" he said. "How is it that I have not seen
+him for two days?"
+
+"I was speaking of our son!" answered Magdalena, angrily. "Do you not
+think of your son? Do you not love your son?"
+
+The Marquis took her hand. "It is time that we understood each other,"
+he said, sadly. "For twenty years I have lived a melancholy life. I have
+yielded to your caprices, I have followed your counsel, and to what end?
+Look at me--my hair is gray, my face is seamed and lined. I have never
+had one hour of repose. For whom have I carried this burthen? For
+myself? I despise mankind, I despise power, I despise you, and despise
+myself. I have but one real passion in life, and that is my love for
+this wretched boy who bears my name. What have you, his mother, done
+for him?"
+
+Magdalena turned away from her husband's melancholy eyes.
+
+"Why I love him," continued the Marquis, "I know not, except that
+criminals love their children as wild beasts their young. You have
+questioned me, and I have answered you. Are you satisfied?"
+
+There came at this moment a hurried knock at the door.
+
+"Come in!" cried the Marquis, angrily.
+
+A valet entered with a very pale face.
+
+"Monsieur! my young master--"
+
+"Ah! he has come!" cried the Marquise, rushing to the door.
+
+But the lacquey extended his arms, as if to stop her.
+
+"Madame!" he began.
+
+"Well! what is it?"
+
+"My young master is dead!" said the lacquey, with trembling lips.
+
+Then there went up the cry of two stricken hearts. The two criminals
+looked at each other. They must have misunderstood the servant, who now
+pointed to the stairs, up which were coming men bearing a bier. What was
+underneath the cloth? Was it their son? Impossible!
+
+A young man appeared. Magdalena rushed toward him, without a word. The
+youth bowed his head.
+
+"Yes, he is dead. Monsieur de Talizac has been killed in a duel!"
+
+Magdalena sank upon the floor, unconscious. Fongereues laughed
+hysterically.
+
+"Nonsense! My son has fought no duel," he said.
+
+"Yes--with Arthur de Montferrand, whose sword pierced his heart!"
+
+Fongereues tore the cloth from the bier. Yes, it was the Vicomte de
+Talizac. The wretched father tried to speak. Every muscle in his face
+quivered. The servants fell back, shocked by all this agony.
+
+"Tell me all!" he said at last.
+
+"There is little to tell, sir, beyond the bare fact. I have, however, a
+letter which the Vicomte gave me before he went on the ground."
+
+Magdalena snatched this letter and tore it open. It contained but one
+line:
+
+
+  "Faithless parents, I curse you with my dying breath!"
+
+
+These words, coming from beyond the tomb, were terrible.
+
+At this moment the door opened. An old man, with head uncovered and
+long, white hair, stood there.
+
+"The Vicomte de Talizac is dead!" whispered one of the servants.
+
+The stranger started, and, with a compassionate look, laid his hand on
+the shoulder of the Marquis, who was kneeling by the body of his son.
+The Marquis looked up and shrank back, saying:
+
+"Pierre Labarre!"
+
+It was, indeed, the old servant, sad eyed and hopeless. He had come to
+Paris as quickly as possible, leaving Francoise and Caillette to follow.
+He went at once to the court-room, and there heard that Fanfar had been
+carried to one of the lower rooms. Physicians had been sent for, who had
+attributed his death to an aneurism.
+
+"You are avenged, Pierre!" cried the Marquis. "Why are you here? Leave
+this house at once!"
+
+But the old man did not move.
+
+"No!" he said, "you must hear me. We have not done with each other." He
+extended his hand toward the dead body. "You may well weep for your son,
+Marquis, but you may also weep for Fanfar."
+
+"Yes, because this fellow, for whom you would have stolen my father's
+fortune, is dead. This Fanfar was my brother's son--I know it, and you
+know it, too, but you do not know that I killed him!"
+
+Labarre drew back in terror.
+
+"No, no--do not say that!"
+
+"Why should I not say it? It is true. I discovered the secret of his
+birth, and I removed him from my path--I poisoned him!"
+
+The old man staggered to the wall, where he leaned for support.
+
+"Now, denounce me!" cried the Marquis, "and I am ready to mount the
+scaffold. I killed this Fanfar, and this thought is all that gives me a
+ray of comfort!"
+
+"Hush! This Fanfar was not the Marquis de Fongereues, he was not Simon's
+son. Do you remember a night which you once spent in a humble cottage at
+Sachemont?"
+
+"Sachemont?" repeated Fongereues.
+
+"That night two men claimed the hospitality of an old man. One of these
+strangers was a Frenchman, but he was base enough to insult the daughter
+of the old man. He did worse--he committed a dastardly crime. That man,
+sir, was known as the Marquis de Talizac!"
+
+Fongereues sat with his eyes fixed on the old man.
+
+"The Vicomte fled like a scoundrel, leaving dishonor and despair on his
+track. But he never knew that the poor girl gave birth to a child--a
+son."
+
+"What of that!" cried Fongereues, who did not choose to understand.
+
+"Silence! I have not finished. Do you know who took that child and
+educated him? It was the brother whom you hated. Your victim was dead
+and he married her sister, and later, when you set the Cossacks on the
+village of Leigoutte and bade them to kill women and children, there was
+one child named Jacques and that child was your son."
+
+Fongereues was deadly pale; large drops stood on his brow.
+
+"You lie!" cried the Marquis, "Fanfar was my brother's son."
+
+"Here is the certificate of his birth," said Pierre. "You knew Simon's
+writing, for you intercepted his letters to your father. Look! these
+lines tell the story."
+
+
+  "I, eldest son of the Marquis de Fongereues, declare, on my sacred
+  word of honor, that the child who bears my name and passes for my son,
+  is the child of Jacqueline Lemaitre and the Vicomte de Talizac."
+
+
+"The paper is signed with Simon's full name."
+
+The Marquis fell on his knees.
+
+"Ah! Monsieur, these are terrible days, but you will not say again that
+you poisoned Fanfar."
+
+Fongereues shuddered, and endeavored to hide his face.
+
+Labarre felt dizzy with horror. "Answer me," he repeated.
+
+Fongereues answered in a low voice:
+
+"Kill me! I have killed my son!"
+
+The old servant started forward as if to fell the Marquis to the earth,
+but suddenly he remembered his old master, the man whom he had loved so
+tenderly, and he could not harm his son. He half turned away.
+
+"Tell me the whole," he faltered, "I must know the whole."
+
+"Yes," stammered the Marquis. "Cyprien, who is my slave, poisoned him. I
+determined to have the fortune without longer delay. I bade him do this
+deed, and he obeyed me. I am accursed!"
+
+Labarre went toward the door.
+
+"Farewell!" he said.
+
+"No," cried the Marquis, "you must not leave me alone with this dead
+man. I am afraid! You must take me too to see the other."
+
+Labarre stopped short. "Where was Cyprien?" he asked hastily.
+
+The Marquis understood him. He rang his bell furiously. It might be
+after all that he was not guilty of Fanfar's death.
+
+A servant entered. The Marquis asked for Cyprien; he had not been seen
+in the hotel for two days, the lacquey replied.
+
+The Marquis turned to his father's servant.
+
+"I have grave duties to perform," he said, quietly, "first I must see my
+son. You must go with me."
+
+Labarre shook his head.
+
+"In the name of my brother!" said Fongereues. Then stopping, he said,
+suddenly, "Does this fortune left by my father really exist?"
+
+Labarre started. Could it be that this man at this time could be
+thinking of money?
+
+"You misunderstand me!" cried the Marquis, "but never mind, answer me!"
+
+"The money is safe," said Pierre.
+
+"And you can give me a million to-morrow?"
+
+"What do you want of a million?"
+
+"Can you give it to me, that is the question?"
+
+"I can."
+
+Fongereues wrote a few words, and rang the bell.
+
+"Take this letter to Monsieur Fernando de Vellebri, and see that there
+is no delay. And now, Pierre, come with me."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXIX.
+
+THE AUTOPSY.
+
+
+In a house opposite the Palais de Justice, two men were talking together
+in an attic room. One of these men was seated, the other was standing.
+The one who was seated, robust and vigorous, was anxiously questioning a
+person, who answered slowly and coldly.
+
+"Then Doctor, you are sure?"
+
+"Have no uneasiness. I know what I am doing."
+
+"You understand that it is for to-morrow, and nothing can be done during
+the night. It means, in short, forty hours."
+
+"When I accepted the terrible responsibility which you proposed to me, I
+weighed every detail. And once more I bid you have entire confidence in
+me and in science, and in the devotion of those who are brothers in a
+common cause."
+
+"Forgive me!" repeated the other. "Forgive my anxiety and apparent
+distrust."
+
+"I am at your disposal at all times and seasons; if the important moment
+be advanced or retarded, be sure that I shall be in readiness."
+
+The two men shook hands cordially, and the Doctor went out. The other
+threw himself on a chair, and covering his face with his huge hands,
+wept bitterly--wept like a child, did this poor Iron Jaws. Suddenly he
+started up, and cried:
+
+"This must succeed! This must succeed!"
+
+He heard hurried steps coming up the stairs, and then a knock at the
+door.
+
+"Who is it?"
+
+"Bobichel!"
+
+It was indeed Bobichel, red and much out of breath.
+
+"Well?" asked Gudel.
+
+"Oh! she is an angel! she had been crying when I got there. She brought
+me here in her carriage, and she wants to see you."
+
+Gudel strode from the room. On the lower floor he found Irene waiting;
+she was pale and dressed in black.
+
+"Ah! sir," she said, anxiety sharpening her voice, "tell me what all
+this means!"
+
+"Fanfar is not dead."
+
+The girl swayed to and fro. Gudel caught her, and went on.
+
+"No, he is not dead. I thought you ought to know it."
+
+"Where is he?"
+
+"Ah! dear lady, he lies at this moment in a dark room, and looks as if
+he could never again rise."
+
+"Horrible!"
+
+"Yes, in a way, but not so bad when you come to think about it, for
+to-morrow Fanfar will be alive and free."
+
+"Alive and free! Ah! I dare not hope. But tell me the whole."
+
+"You remember that I sent you a note to give to Fanfar?"
+
+"Yes--I have it still."
+
+"Now, if you are not afraid of a little dampness, I will show you
+something."
+
+Irene looked at Gudel in amazement.
+
+"Very good, but first about Fanfar?"
+
+"I assure you, dear lady, that he is safe. Now, Bobichel, go; see and
+hear all you can, and if you find out anything new, come to me at once."
+
+"All right, master," and with a double somersault Bobichel vanished.
+
+Gudel lighted a lantern, and then said to Irene that he was ready. They
+went out into a corridor, and Gudel, taking a key from his pocket,
+opened a small door which showed stone steps going down.
+
+"Be careful," said Iron Jaws, "for the steps are very slippery."
+
+He held the lantern high and guided her steps. It was like a gnome
+guiding a fairy into some mine of wealth. But it was not toward any
+treasure that Gudel conducted Irene. He opened another door after
+pushing several bolts.
+
+"Up with you!" he cried, "you have company!"
+
+Notwithstanding all her courage, Irene started back.
+
+"Have no fear, Mademoiselle," said Iron Jaws, "he is a ferocious beast,
+but he is chained!"
+
+Irene beheld a man fastened to the wall with an iron chain. At first she
+did not recognize him.
+
+"This individual," said Gudel, "is Cyprien, the man who does all the
+dirty work of his excellency the Marquis de Fongereues, going so far as
+to do a little poisoning on occasion."
+
+"Undo my chain!" cried Cyprien.
+
+"Not if I know it! But if you answer my questions, you shall have
+something to eat."
+
+"I am hungry!" murmured the rascal.
+
+"Pshaw! one meal each day will certainly prevent your being miserable.
+Now, why did you poison Fanfar?"
+
+The fellow sighed.
+
+"Tell me what interest you had in poisoning Fanfar."
+
+"I don't know."
+
+"That is a lie!"
+
+"He can tell you nothing," whispered Irene, "let him go."
+
+"No, Mademoiselle. This scoundrel bribed one of the jailers to give
+Fanfar a drug that would have killed him in five minutes. Fortunately, I
+was on the watch. I captured Cyprien and I brought him here. But I
+confess I am greatly puzzled by one thing--it is that I can't make out
+what the Marquis had against Fanfar, and this animal will not tell me."
+
+"My friend," said Irene, "however guilty you may be, you are but the
+instrument of others. Why, then, do you not try to make amends for your
+errors by telling the truth?"
+
+Cyprien hesitated, but he said again:
+
+"I do not know."
+
+"Then good-night, my dear fellow!" said Gudel. "Here is a loaf of bread
+for you, rascal that you are!"
+
+Irene hastened from the dungeon, and when they had again ascended the
+stairs, Gudel said to her:
+
+"These fellows are all alike, after all!"
+
+"What are you trying to do?" asked Irene.
+
+"It is simple enough. Instead of poison, Fanfar took a narcotic, and
+lies as if dead. He will be buried, of course, but we will look out for
+that, and he will be taken care of."
+
+The shock to Irene was so great that she burst into passionate weeping.
+Gudel was doing his best to soothe her, when suddenly the door was
+thrown open and Bobichel rushed in, all pale and dishevelled.
+
+"Oh! master," he cried, "all is lost! There is to be an autopsy. One of
+the great physicians advises it."
+
+Irene uttered a shriek of agony and dropped on her knees.
+
+"Run!" she cried, "the truth must be made known at once. Oh! save him!"
+
+Gudel tore his hair. Suddenly a thought struck him.
+
+"Who is the physician?"
+
+"Dr. Albant, from the Tuileries."
+
+Iron Jaws reflected. He took Irene's hands in his.
+
+"I am but a poor fellow, dear lady, only a strolling player, but I swear
+to you that Fanfar shall be saved!"
+
+Irene was comforted.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XL.
+
+BETWEEN CHARYBDIS AND SCYLLA.
+
+
+The situation was indeed a terrible one. Bobichel's words were true.
+
+When Fanfar fell as if dead, it was supposed that it was an attack of
+apoplexy, and some good people ventured to call it a judgment from
+heaven for his crimes. Others again spoke of poison, and arraigned the
+governor of the prison for carelessness. There was one physician among
+those who were called in who could not agree with the others. He used a
+number of scientific expressions, but the fact remained the same--Fanfar
+was dead. But there was so much discussion that a post-mortem
+examination was deemed essential. The body, therefore, was carried on a
+litter to the hospital, where he was examined by a crowd of curious
+medical students, who declared that he was so splendidly developed that
+he ought to have lived to be a hundred years old.
+
+A messenger was sent to Dr. Albant, and the dissecting table was
+prepared.
+
+This time the plan of the heroes of the right had failed. Fanfar was
+alive, but he would certainly be killed now, as his torpidity was so
+great that he would not utter a cry or a groan until the instruments
+touched some vital organ.
+
+The door opened and Dr. Albant, a handsome old man, entered with smiles
+and nods. He removed his coat and tied on a large apron. Trying the edge
+of his scalpel on his nail, he turned to the students and physicians,
+and began to talk of the German method of conducting a post mortem.
+
+"We French, however, begin here," he said, lightly placing his scalpel
+on the tender flesh.
+
+"Dr. Albant!" cried a stentorian voice.
+
+The surgeon turned. A messenger in the king's livery stood in the
+doorway.
+
+"Gentlemen, excuse me--the king communicates with me!"
+
+A close observer would have thought it singular that the king should
+send a letter by an ordinary servant, like a simple bourgeois. But this
+did not seem to strike Dr. Albant, who, with a face beaming with smiles,
+turned to the students, saying:
+
+"Excuse me, gentlemen, but the king demands my presence."
+
+"But the autopsy?"
+
+"Oh! that may be given up. This man died from cerebral congestion--I see
+it as plain as day!"
+
+As he spoke he tore off his apron, and got himself into his coat again
+with all possible speed.
+
+"Bury the man at once!" he said as he left the room. A carriage awaited
+him at the door, and he drove off.
+
+The royal messenger waited a moment and then he, too, walked away, and
+going down a narrow alley he entered a little wineshop by a back door,
+and throwing himself on a bench, exclaimed:
+
+"I was just in time, Bobichel. A second later and Fanfar would have been
+no more!"
+
+The hospital was now anxious to get rid of this useless body, and orders
+were given that it should be buried without delay. Gudel and his friends
+had bribed the functionaries.
+
+All went smoothly, and in an hour the hearse was to take Fanfar away.
+But before this, a card was brought in to the governor of the hospital.
+On this card was the name of the Marquis de Fongereues, and in the
+corner of the glossy bit of pasteboard was a tiny sign, which signified
+that his visitor was especially recommended by the Society of which he
+was a member. He gave orders that the Marquis should be shown in at
+once.
+
+Fongereues appeared, leaning on the arm of Pierre Labarre. The Marquis
+had suddenly grown old, his strength was gone, and his feet were as
+uncertain as those of a drunken man.
+
+The governor rose to receive him. Fongereues tried to speak, but his
+voice died in his throat. He handed the governor an order from the
+minister, directing that the body of the man named Fanfar should be
+surrendered to the Marquis de Fongereues.
+
+Our readers will notice that the promised million had already borne
+fruit in the granting of the first request made by the Marquis, who had
+laid aside his ambition and thought only of recovering the body of his
+son in return for the million.
+
+"Can I see the body?" asked the Marquis.
+
+The governor bowed assent and led him to the room where Fanfar still
+lay. Fongereues looked down on the noble features and manly form. How
+entirely they differed from those of the son for whom the Marquis had
+sacrificed everything. The Marquis knelt in silence for some minutes,
+while Labarre shed bitter tears.
+
+"What does the Marquis propose to do?" asked the governor, who did not
+understand this scene, and was becoming impatient.
+
+Labarre said, in a low voice, "The men will come up with a bier."
+
+In a few minutes Fanfar's body was carried to the Hotel de Fongereues
+and laid by the side of the Vicomte.
+
+Labarre made no attempt to resist this caprice of the Marquis. The old
+servant, now that De Fongereues showed such humility and grief, had
+become his devoted servant.
+
+The Marquis asked for his wife, and was told that she had left the hotel
+alone and on foot.
+
+"Pierre," said the Marquis, "I must say a few words to you. With the
+exception of this million I have required at your hands, the fortune
+which should have been Simon's must be given to his daughter. Tell her
+the whole truth; it is only just. Watch over this girl, proclaim her
+right to the name and property of our house. When I am dead do not lay
+me in French soil--I am not worthy of France--but place me where I am
+unknown and unheard of. You will obey these wishes?"
+
+Labarre answered, solemnly, "I will obey them."
+
+"Very good; we will start to-night for the chateau, and there side by
+side we will bury the two sons whom I have murdered."
+
+While Fongereues, crushed under the weight of his remorse, was thus
+announcing his last wishes, another scene was taking place in the
+hospital. Gudel and Bobichel had applied for Fanfar's body.
+
+"Too late!" answered the concierge. And the two men heard with
+consternation that Fanfar had been taken away. And where? No one knew.
+
+Delay was inevitable. Gudel and the former clown went out into the
+street and there abandoned themselves to their distress.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLI.
+
+VIDOCQ, THE CHIEF OF POLICE.
+
+
+To be condemned to death cannot be a very pleasant feeling, and
+Robeccal, though assured that he should not suffer, was naturally very
+uneasy. He did his best to keep up his courage, hoping every minute that
+some one would appear and furnish him with the means of leaving France.
+Finally the door opened, and Vidocq himself, the Chief of Police,
+entered.
+
+Robeccal, in a state of suppressed delight, had the audacity to wink at
+him.
+
+"At last!" said the prisoner. "Really, sir, I think I have had about
+enough of this. When am I to leave France?"
+
+"I think, my dear sir," answered Vidocq, in a somewhat sarcastic voice,
+"that you will not leave France."
+
+"Ah! I am glad to hear that."
+
+"A residence has been assigned to you in a most delightful climate."
+
+"And where may that be? What is the name of the place?"
+
+"You will have no difficulty in remembering it, I fancy. Toulon is the
+name."
+
+"Toulon!" repeated Robeccal, his eyes fairly starting from his head.
+
+"Yes, your punishment has been changed. You are condemned, not to death,
+but to imprisonment for life."
+
+Robeccal tried to smile. It was a joke, of course, but he did not like
+it.
+
+"My dear sir," continued Vidocq, calmly and politely, "You are a
+scoundrel, and you accepted a base role. You think we have broken faith
+with you, but faith can not be kept with creatures like yourself."
+
+Robeccal protested and raved, all to no purpose.
+
+Vidocq went to the door and called; four men, each Hercules, appeared.
+
+"Take this fellow away," said Vidocq, "he is to go with the other
+prisoners to Toulon in the morning."
+
+Robeccal began to curse and swear.
+
+"You will gag him," added Vidocq, "it is better. Good-bye, Monsieur
+Robeccal, I don't think we are likely to meet again!"
+
+Vidocq looked on with a satirical smile while Robeccal was carried off.
+
+Some months later he endeavored to make his escape from Toulon, and was
+shot.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLII.
+
+TO THOSE WHO LOVE FANFAR.
+
+
+Night was coming on. The last rays of the setting sun shone on the water
+at Havre.
+
+Down on the shore among the rocks, was a fisherman's hut; in it was a
+man alone; he was restlessly pacing to and fro. Occasionally he stopped
+and seemed to listen, but he only heard the lapping of the water on the
+beach. Hour after hour elapsed; he seemed to be waiting for some one.
+
+Suddenly he started; he heard a stone fall. He went to the door and
+looked out. Two figures were to be seen dimly in the fog. He waited a
+minute, and then he said, "Whom do you seek?"
+
+A brief silence, and a sweet voice replied, "Fanfar."
+
+The two shadows were two women--Francoise and Caillette.
+
+The young man seized a lamp and went to meet them.
+
+"But Fanfar! where is Fanfar?" asked Caillette.
+
+Presently other steps were heard.
+
+"Whom do you seek?" asked the young man, once more.
+
+"Fanfar!" answered a trembling voice.
+
+And under the yellow rays of the lamp two more women were seen--Irene de
+Salves and Francine. When the latter beheld Arthur de Montferrand she
+started, while Irene impulsively pronounced his name.
+
+They all entered the cottage, and looked around the room anxiously. The
+same name was on every lip. Fanfar, where was he?
+
+The night after Fanfar had been carried to the hotel Fongereues, a
+mysterious note had been sent to Irene, to Francine, and Caillette.
+
+
+  "_To all who love Fanfar:_
+
+  "Repair at once to Havre. Go to the cottage of the fisherman Pierre.
+  Wait! Hope!"
+
+
+Similar instructions had been sent to Arthur, but to the questions
+addressed to him by these four ladies, he could only say that he knew no
+more than they.
+
+"We must wait," he said.
+
+"But Gudel?" asked Caillette. "Where is he?"
+
+"I know not," Arthur replied, "and yet I am almost sure that these notes
+are from him."
+
+Caillette went to Irene's side. The poor girl loved Fanfar with all her
+heart, and she believed that he was lost to her, for if by a miracle she
+were to see him again it would be as Irene's lover. But she accepted the
+sacrifice. She said in a low voice to Irene:
+
+"I am glad you came, for you love him."
+
+Irene pressed her hand; she could not speak.
+
+Suddenly Irene started, her instinct had told her the truth.
+
+"And you," she exclaimed, "you also love him."
+
+The two girls embraced each other tenderly. All this time Francoise sat
+perfectly silent, she was content now that Cinette was near her, but
+still she thought of Jacques with longing.
+
+Where was old Labarre?
+
+Arthur leaned against the window looking out into the night, and
+listening to the voice of the waters. He had long since discovered that
+he loved Francine, and he said to himself:
+
+"If I restore her brother to her, she may learn to love me."
+
+And now he waited anxiously for a signal, which would give him the right
+to speak a word of hope to this little group of friends. He uttered a
+little exclamation.
+
+"Come here!" he cried, gayly, "come here, and look out!"
+
+From among the dark waters rose a brilliant rocket which, darting
+through the air, fell in a shower of brilliant sparks.
+
+The three girls ran to the window. How long were those last moments of
+waiting. Finally the measured beat of oars was heard, the prow of a boat
+struck against the pebbly beach, and shadows were seen coming toward the
+cottage. The door opened.
+
+Irene and Caillette burst into tears.
+
+Francine cried, "Fanfar! my brother!"
+
+"Zounds!" cried Gudel, "it was not such an easy matter getting here."
+
+Fanfar sank on his knees before Francoise. "My poor mother!" he
+exclaimed.
+
+And the invalid took Fanfar's head in her trembling hands, and kissed
+him tenderly.
+
+"And Bobichel! you here, too!" cried Caillette, overjoyed.
+
+Irene went to Fanfar's side. "I have come," she said, quietly.
+
+Without leaving his mother he took the girl's fair hand and pressed it
+to his lips.
+
+Arthur began to question Gudel, and from him learned the whole truth.
+
+The friends, after Fanfar's body was removed, decided on reflection that
+Cyprien was the sole person who could aid them. At first he refused to
+give them the smallest information, but finally he was made to speak.
+They went to the Hotel de Fongereues, but the sad party had left for
+Alsace. Two leagues away they were overtaken however. Labarre was told
+the whole truth. Fanfar was liberated, and restored to life by the
+physician whom Gudel had brought with him. The Marquis de Fongereues
+went on to the chateau with the body of the Vicomte.
+
+"And Labarre, where is he?"
+
+"In the boat waiting for us, but I have not yet told you all. We should
+have made an end of Cyprien, for he threatened to denounce us. The only
+thing for Fanfar is to flee the country. A quarter of a league from
+shore a vessel awaits us. Come, Fanfar, there is no time to lose, you
+know that you start for America to-night."
+
+There was a long silence. Labarre entered.
+
+"Marquis," he said, "it is time."
+
+There was a startled exclamation. Whom did he salute by this title?
+
+Fanfar rose.
+
+"Do not call me by this name. I am Jacques, the adopted son of Simon
+Fougere."
+
+Irene went to him.
+
+"Jacques," she said, "you long since bade me seek to make myself loved.
+Have I followed your advice?"
+
+"I love you," answered Fanfar, simply.
+
+"Do you wish me to become your wife?"
+
+Caillette uttered a smothered exclamation.
+
+"Fanfar," she said, "the lady loves you truly."
+
+The young man pressed his hand upon his eyes.
+
+"Thanks," he said, "your hearts are all noble and good."
+
+"Come one and all!" cried Iron Jaws, gayly.
+
+"Are you going?" asked Arthur.
+
+Francine replied with downcast eyes: "Can I leave my brother?"
+
+"Then I too will go," Arthur exclaimed, "I too will begin to take life
+seriously, if you will aid me."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+After the Vicomte de Talizac was buried, the Marquis disappeared and was
+no more heard of. Magdalena committed suicide. Bobichel married
+Caillette, whom he adored as much as he adored Fanfar. Francoise and
+Labarre neither of them lived long. Cyprien continued to act as spy for
+the French government. And La Roulante was assassinated in a drunken
+frolic.
+
+This was the story of Fanfar, which we have completed, for Fanfar's
+modesty was too great to allow him to say what we have said for him.
+
+The party all went to Algeria, intending thence to start for America,
+but finally decided to remain where French activity finds such a wide
+field. They lived contented and happy, forgotten and forgetting.
+
+"And I am truly thankful," said Fanfar, in conclusion, extending his
+hand to Monte-Cristo, "that I have been permitted to utilize my former
+talents for your benefit."
+
+Monte-Cristo lingered a week or more that Esperance might recover from
+his fatigue of both body and mind, but the day finally came when the
+caravan started for France.
+
+"Monsieur Fanfar," said the Count, "are we never to meet again?"
+
+"Ah! who can say!" and Fanfar smiled. "I shall never forget my beloved
+France, and I am sometimes sick with longing to return."
+
+"Then, some day if I need you for the protection of my son, and send for
+you," said Monte-Cristo, "you will come?"
+
+"I swear that I will." And Fanfar laid his hand on the boy's head.
+
+"We will all swear!" cried Iron Jaws. "The son of Monte-Cristo is sacred
+to us. Who ever touches a hair of his head shall suffer."
+
+We have now to learn how Fanfar and his friends kept this promise.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLIII.
+
+A LETTER FROM MONTE-CRISTO.
+
+
+"MY DEAR CHILD:
+
+"Twelve years have elapsed since that terrible day when, with the
+assistance of our dear friends in Algeria, I was enabled to save you
+from a most awful death. Since then many events have swept over my head,
+which is to-day becoming very gray.
+
+"I am over sixty, and yet I hope to do a little more good in the world.
+But I must hasten.
+
+"I have borne up against many misfortunes and great catastrophes, and
+one, even alone, prostrated me and deprived me of courage, and that was
+the death of your beloved mother. I realized then that I was only a man.
+I said to myself: 'Monte-Cristo, the color has fled from your cheek, the
+fire from your eye. You are in possession of old Faria's secrets and
+science, but you are powerless against Death. You have triumphed over
+Villefort, Morcerf, Danglars, Benedetto and Maldar, but you cannot
+triumph over Death! Remember that you are only a man!'
+
+"You were just sixteen, Esperance, when your mother was taken from us,
+and your tears fell with mine, but you said to yourself: 'My father
+remains!' But, my beloved son, something in that father died at that
+time, or rather, I should say that something was born--his
+self-confidence vanished forever, and doubt took its place. For many
+long years, my son, your father deemed himself master of his own
+destiny, and with a certain simplicity at which I smile to-day, he
+fancied that he could make all wills bend to his. From that moment
+wrinkles came to my brow and my hair grew white, and I cannot smooth
+away those wrinkles, nor can my will, strong though it be, bring back
+the color to my lips nor fire to my eyes. I have punished the
+evil-doers, but when I sought to repair the evil I had committed, I have
+not always succeeded.
+
+"I released the son of Mercedes from the fanatics of Ouargla, but two
+years later, in December, 1851, he fell, on the day of that
+'_attentat_,' which is not yet avenged.
+
+"Where is Maximilian Morel, where is the daughter of Villefort, the
+gentle Valentine, whose happiness was dear to me? Did not they all
+perish in the frightful revolt of the Sepoys in India in 1859? It is
+clear to me that my love was powerless to protect.
+
+"If I write this to you, my son, it is not with a wish to sadden you.
+But you are not only my son but my confessor, as well as my one joy and
+my hope. From your mother you inherit generous instincts and a spirit of
+devotion. From me you have received vigor and energy, but I trust that
+you inherit none of my pride.
+
+"When this letter reaches you I shall be far away. Yes, and I wish you
+to know why. There is a suggestion of weakness in your nature which I
+wish to eradicate. When you are with me you do not do justice to
+yourself--you are content to walk in my shadow and see life through my
+eyes. But I desire to remind you that you have arrived at man's estate,
+and that you must live your own life and think your own thoughts. You
+are free, you are twenty-two, and you are wealthy. You have, therefore,
+no reason to fear that any obstacles will be thrown in your path. You
+have no enemies--I have scattered them from your path. Think only of
+making friends for yourself. I have had proteges rather than friends.
+
+"I know you to be sincere and generous. Believe and give. It is good
+sometimes for a man to make mistakes. True experience is made up of
+errors. Do not be afraid of their consequences. But, nevertheless, be
+cautious. Avoid the irreparable. To kiss is a crime, the only one,
+possibly, because it is the only one that cannot be repaired. If,
+however, you commit great faults, do not hesitate to acknowledge them.
+
+"Make your own way through life, my son. I have left you that you may do
+so. You have near you devoted hearts. Coucon will never forsake you. I
+have taken my old Bertuccio with me. I did not wish you to think that I
+had left any one to watch you and report to me. In case of danger,
+summon Fanfar.
+
+"Up to this time I feel that you have had no secrets from me. Your heart
+is free, let it be your guide. Remember that love, often great
+happiness, is more often great sorrow.
+
+"I love you, my son, though I leave you. I know not where I am going. I
+long to do good, and hope to find happiness.
+
+"Dear, dear child! Oh! how I love you!
+
+"MONTE-CRISTO."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLIV.
+
+ESPERANCE.
+
+
+The youthful son of Monte-Cristo was twenty-two years of age, and
+wonderfully handsome. His dark curls shaded a fair, white brow, and his
+eyes were haughty like his father's. His slender white hands were
+womanly in their delicacy. But we will examine his surroundings.
+
+Whenever Monte-Cristo established himself in a new home, the house
+became transformed as if a magician of the Arabian Nights had touched it
+with his wand. There was not a dark or gloomy corner to be seen. Lights
+blazed everywhere. The rarest pictures and choicest furniture were to be
+seen. Everything was magnificent and harmonious. The tall stature of the
+Count, his excessive pallor and the exaggerated attention he paid to his
+dress, added to this effect, as did the dark face of Ali, who,
+invariably draped in soft, white folds, stood like a bronze statue near
+the many colored portieres. With the Vicomte, however, all colors were
+softer than with his father. The cabinet, for example, where we find
+him, was hung with gray and black velvet, and the rugs were fur, of the
+same soft gray.
+
+The Vicomte's dress was in no ways peculiar, though careful. He disliked
+anything that made him conspicuous. His face and his voice had a certain
+sadness that contrasted strangely with his name of Esperance.[A] Books
+lay open on the table before him; they were on philosophical subjects,
+heat and cold. Imagination had never touched him with her golden wand.
+
+      [A] Esperance means Hope.
+
+Esperance was very pale as he read his father's letter. He extended his
+hand and rang the bell.
+
+Coucon entered, looking very differently from those old days in Africa.
+Not that he wore a livery, but his brown suit was simple and well cut.
+In his eyes, however, was much of the old fire.
+
+"Has my father gone?" asked Esperance.
+
+"Yes, sir, while you were asleep."
+
+"Why was not I awakened?"
+
+"Because the Count forbade it. He simply said, as he went away, that a
+letter was to be given to you."
+
+"Was Bertuccio with my father?"
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+"In what direction did he go?"
+
+"I know not, and I assure you that no one in the hotel knows more than
+I."
+
+Coucon was glad when this examination was over. Esperance was never
+harsh or severe with his people, but they never felt at ease with him as
+with his father. But in fact Bertuccio had given no hint of where the
+Count was going, and when Esperance was fully convinced of this he
+dismissed Coucon; but as the Zouave was leaving the room, the young
+master stopped him.
+
+"I want to say to you, Coucon, that I am fully aware of your fidelity,
+and that I trust you implicitly. You once assisted my father to save my
+life."
+
+"Never mind that, sir."
+
+"And if my manner is cold toward you, my heart is not. Shake hands with
+me."
+
+Coucon, greatly pleased, laid his huge hand into the delicate one of the
+Vicomte, who pressed it warmly.
+
+The Zouave uttered an exclamation.
+
+"What is the matter?"
+
+"Nothing--only--"
+
+"Only what?"
+
+"Well, sir, you have a tremendous squeeze, I must say. Your fingers felt
+as if they were made of steel."
+
+Esperance looked at his hands in some surprise.
+
+"Yes," he said, in a dreamy voice, "I am strong, I believe."
+
+"Strong! I should say you were."
+
+"I did not hurt you, I trust?" and Esperance still gazed at his hands in
+a troubled sort of way.
+
+"Where will you breakfast, sir?" asked Coucon.
+
+"In the gallery, I think."
+
+"And alone?"
+
+"I don't know; I do not remember inviting any one."
+
+Coucon departed, proud of the shake of the hand he had received,
+although he still rubbed his fingers to restore the circulation.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLV.
+
+"WHAT WILL HE DO?"
+
+
+Esperance was alone; his brow was thoughtful. He sank into a chair and
+buried his face in his hands. Suddenly he started up, and drawing aside
+the heavy portiere over a door, entered a small, dark room that seemed
+to be an oratory.
+
+Stained glass windows admitted an uncertain light. Esperance threw open
+the sash and the daylight streamed in, and with it the delicious breeze
+of spring. Esperance turned to the wall, on which hung a fine picture of
+Monte-Cristo. Next this portrait hung one of his mother.
+
+The young man spoke aloud. "Father!" he said, "mother! listen to me,
+judge me and counsel me. Who and what am I? What is my future to be? Am
+I guilty or am I--mad?"
+
+Esperance shivered. Then throwing his head back proudly, he said, "No, I
+am not mad, and yet I cannot understand myself. Oh! father, why did I
+not have courage to speak to you frankly? You would have understood me
+and encouraged me. I am afraid of life, I am afraid of myself--afraid of
+the very name I bear, and of your greatness, the shadow of which falls
+on me."
+
+In the letter written by Monte-Cristo to his son, he had spoken the
+truth. He had not thought sufficiently of developing the especial
+characteristics of his son, and had made of him a philosopher.
+
+Esperance had been compelled to reason calmly on all subjects, and the
+inconsequence of youth had been frowned upon by his father.
+
+Edmond Dantes had been young, vivacious and full of illusions and hopes.
+Monte-Cristo forgot this, and forgot that Esperance was but twenty. He
+had been kind and loving to Esperance; he had, as he believed, armed him
+for the battle of life, but he had extinguished his boyishness and
+engrafted the seeds of distrust.
+
+Esperance never accused his father, but the result of this education was
+that he was afraid of himself and others. Monte-Cristo saw his son
+silent and sad at times, but he did not realize that it was because he
+had quenched the youth in him and made him prematurely old. He moreover
+suddenly became convinced that it was best for Esperance to leave him,
+and therefore departed silently and mysteriously.
+
+Esperance was armed against the tragedies of life, but not against its
+daily annoyances.
+
+Esperance had enormous muscular strength, and yet he was weak to resist
+sorrow. He could have held his hand on a brazier of burning coals, but
+he would have started at a pin-prick. And now that Monte-Cristo had
+gone, Esperance felt like a child deprived of its mother.
+
+A bell rang, announcing a visitor.
+
+He passed his hand over his brow. Then addressing the dear portraits
+once more, "Beloved mother!" he murmured, "give me your enthusiasm and
+your delicacy, and, my father, give me strength and courage. God grant
+that I may be worthy of you both!"
+
+He went to the window, and gazed up at the blue sky with an expression
+that was almost mystical. Then he closed the room, and returned to his
+chamber.
+
+Coucon appeared bearing two cards on a silver tray.
+
+Esperance looked at the cards, and uttered an exclamation of joy.
+
+"Lay two more covers," he said, "I will come down at once."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLVI.
+
+FORWARD!
+
+
+Esperance hurried down, and in the dining-room, a marvel of marqueterie
+and mosaic, was a young man.
+
+"My dear Goutran," he said, as the stranger advanced to meet him, "I
+cannot tell you how obliged I am for this visit."
+
+This Goutran, Goutran Sabrau, was a tall young fellow of about
+twenty-five, with blonde hair and a frank face. He was a painter, and
+had already attained some celebrity.
+
+"Upon my word, this is a welcome worth having," said Goutran. "But what
+is going on here, you do not look like yourself. Your eyes are much
+brighter than usual. Have you not some secret to confide to me?"
+
+The two young men took their seats at a table, laid with great elegance.
+
+"No. I have no secrets," answered Esperance, "and I am unaware of any
+change."
+
+"And yet the very tones of your voice are altered."
+
+Esperance interrupted his friend with some impatience.
+
+"Never mind that! I assure you that so far from having anything pleasant
+to communicate, I am out of spirits. My father has gone away."
+
+Goutran looked at him with some surprise.
+
+The intimacy between these young men had begun by Esperance wishing to
+buy a picture of Goutran's, which had obtained a great success at the
+Salon. The picture was of a gipsy girl playing a violin and dancing.
+Bertuccio went to the painter's studio, and offered an enormous sum for
+the picture, which was refused by Goutran. Accustomed to the
+gratification of all his caprices, he went himself to the studio. But
+the young man replied:
+
+"You offer me, sir, twenty thousand francs for a canvas for which a
+picture dealer would not give me fifty louis, and yet I refuse. At the
+same time I am immensely flattered, and feel that I owe you an
+explanation. The picture is dear to me for reasons which are neither a
+drama nor a poem. I had a friend whom I adored. She had an affection of
+the lungs and I often took her into the country. We were one day at
+Mendon when we heard strange music, wild barbarian music. We approached
+softly, and beheld through the trees a young gipsy girl playing a violin
+and lightly dancing as she played. We listened in astonishment, for the
+music was most singular. Suddenly I felt that my companion was clinging
+heavily to my arm. She had fainted. I seized her in my arms, and bore
+her away. In a week death was very near. Then she said to me:
+
+"'I must hear that gipsy again!'
+
+"I could not leave her, but I sent a friend to find this unknown girl.
+Each morning I discovered that the search had been fruitless. The sick
+girl said when I told her, 'Very well! I shall not die until she
+comes.' On the fourth day she half lifted herself from her bed
+exclaiming:
+
+"'There she is! I hear her!'
+
+"I ran to the window, and beheld the gipsy in the garden. How did the
+sick girl know she was there? The gipsy had not played a note. I could
+not refuse my poor Aimee anything, and sent for the gipsy to come at
+once to the room where the sick girl lay. The gipsy began to play such
+soft, mysterious melodies. Poor Aimee listened with a faint smile.
+Suddenly she drew me to her, kissed me, and died. This gipsy, sir, is
+the one I have painted. You see therefore that I could never part with
+this picture."
+
+At this time Esperance was doing his best to copy his father's manners.
+He was but twenty-one and he affected impassibility. He adopted his most
+phlegmatic English air, and replied to the painter:
+
+"Your story is most interesting, but I will give fifty thousand francs."
+
+Goutran was surprised and somewhat displeased. He repeated his refusal,
+and Esperance departed discontented with himself and with every one
+else.
+
+On thinking the whole affair over he was heartily ashamed of himself. On
+the third day he went to the studio, and, on entering, said simply:
+
+"For two days I have been uncomfortable. I beg you to accept my
+apologies for my ungentlemanly conduct."
+
+Goutran was an excellent person, he had early learned indulgence to
+others. He at once saw that this handsome young fellow was a boy in
+reality, with plenty of theories, but no experience of life. He
+therefore received this apology frankly, and talked for some time to him
+as to a younger brother.
+
+Esperance listened without a word. The distrust which was a part of his
+nature struggled against the cordiality shown by Goutran.
+
+Finally Esperance had a friend. To Goutran alone did he ever open his
+heart, and even when he had been with him for hours, laughing and
+talking with gayety, he appeared before Monte-Cristo as impassive as
+ever.
+
+Goutran did not attempt to penetrate the secrets of his life. He knew,
+however, that the day could not be far off when the butterfly would
+emerge from the chrysalis.
+
+"My father has gone away," Esperance had said.
+
+"Indeed! And where has he gone?"
+
+"I have no idea. He simply wrote me a few lines announcing his
+departure."
+
+Goutran did not think it worth while to be astonished, for this was a
+most singular household.
+
+"Then you are entirely your own master?"
+
+"Yes," answered Esperance, "I am free."
+
+"I have a favor to ask," said Goutran, after a minute's silence.
+
+"Ask it. You know every thing I have is yours."
+
+"Yes--another minute you would offer me millions."
+
+"No, I did not think of doing so. I am rich, I know, but it is not my
+fault. And I do not think it generous in you to reproach me with these
+millions."
+
+"I did not mean to offend you. If I needed money I would ask you for
+it."
+
+"Money! what is that? I should have only to fill out a check, you know.
+But ask me to fight for you, to be killed for you!"
+
+Goutran took the hand of the youth in his, and smilingly said:
+
+"Do you know, Esperance, the greatest sacrifice I can ask of you?"
+
+"Go on."
+
+"It would be to mount upon the imperial of an omnibus. Ah! you are
+astonished, and are asking yourself if I am not laughing at you, but I
+assure you that I am in solemn earnest. The truth is, Esperance, that
+you are not happy."
+
+"I assure you--"
+
+"No, you are not happy because you are hampered by conventionalities.
+You never were in an omnibus, I suppose?"
+
+"No, never."
+
+"When you wish to go out you ring the bell, and your carriage is brought
+round. If you go to the theatre a spacious _loge_ is in readiness for
+you. You go into society--you are received with smiles. Do you know that
+a life like that would be my death?"
+
+"Why do you talk thus to-day?" asked Esperance.
+
+"I can't tell you why. The words come of themselves, but they express my
+feelings precisely. You millionaires know nothing of life. You are like
+a drop of oil in a pitcher of water--you do not mingle with the rest of
+humanity, and you are bored!"
+
+Esperance was annoyed that his mood had been so readily divined.
+
+"But you have not told me what sacrifice you desired of me."
+
+"I did not say sacrifice--I said service."
+
+"Well, whichever it may be, I am ready."
+
+"Very good! You are certainly the best fellow in the world!"
+
+Here it must be mentioned that Esperance never drank wine. The table was
+supplied with several kinds, but, like his father, Esperance never
+touched them.
+
+Goutran poured some sherry into the glass of his friend.
+
+"I have come," he said, "to make a confession and ask a loan."
+
+He tossed off a glass of wine as he spoke. Esperance mechanically drank
+also.
+
+"This is my confession: I, Goutran, a painter, propose to give a
+_soiree_ to-morrow night."
+
+"You!"
+
+"Yes, neither more nor less, and I intend to add to this _soiree_ a
+ball."
+
+"In your atelier?"
+
+"Why not? It is not as large as the Square, to be sure, but it will be a
+success."
+
+"But what is the occasion of these festivities?"
+
+"Oh! thereby hangs a tale. A great Italian lord was, when I was in Rome,
+extremely kind to me. He treated me like a son. He has come to Paris,
+and I must do something for him and for other friends. He is immensely
+wealthy himself--not to be mentioned the same day with you, to be sure.
+I intend to kill two birds with one stone, and invite my friends to
+send their pictures on exhibition. I need your assistance, and I need
+some tapestries."
+
+Esperance listened attentively, and did not notice that Goutran had
+filled his glass with sherry again.
+
+"I want my studio to be magnificent on this occasion, and as we artists
+are not rich enough to buy oriental hangings, we are all going to our
+friends to borrow of them. You have treasures of this nature--will you
+lend them to me? And the great service was simply that you should lend
+me some of those marvelous Japanese hangings of yours."
+
+"I regret extremely that you ask such a trifle at my hands, and now beg
+that you will grant me one."
+
+"What is that?"
+
+"Will you give up the arrangement of the studio to me? I will send men
+and all my Smyrna and India stuff to-morrow morning, and they will do it
+all."
+
+"No, no! Do you think I would allow common upholsterers to touch your
+treasures! I wish to mount step-ladders in my shirt sleeves, with a big
+hammer in my hand, and put them up myself."
+
+And, as Esperance looked at him with troubled surprise, Goutran
+continued:
+
+"My dear friend, open your boxes for me, let me select what I want. We
+two will study the effects, and then I will carry off a bundle in my
+arms with joy and gratitude. By the way, I shall expect you at my
+_soiree_!"
+
+"Oh! you know that I always work in the evening."
+
+"What has that to do with it? You need not work unless you choose.
+Come--there will be ladies there!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLVII.
+
+JANE ZELD.
+
+
+A thoroughly artistic atmosphere was that of Sabrau's studio. There was
+not a picture nor a picture frame, a bronze nor a bit of china that did
+not attract attention. Uniformity had been carefully avoided--all tints,
+all forms, blended into one original whole.
+
+Goutran had arranged the place with his own hands for the fete, which,
+as Goutran said, had a double aim. He wished not only to return the
+princely hospitality he had received, but to make of the affair a
+private exhibition of the works of his young friends; he himself only
+hung his gipsy. Rachel Marstens, the great actress, assisted by Emma
+Bruges, consented to do the honors. Every artistic celebrity accepted
+his invitations. Even the critics came, and were amiable.
+
+Comte Velleni was among the earliest arrivals. He was a fine-looking old
+man, and extremely courteous to all the young artists, and as he was
+very wealthy, his compliments on their work excited many hopes. He was
+not alone. He was accompanied by his secretary, by whom the young
+painters were not favorably impressed. His eyes were deep-set under
+bushy eyebrows, his hair and beard were black as jet.
+
+"A bad looking fellow!" murmured one to another.
+
+The age of this individual was uncertain--he might have been fifty. A
+deep scar ran across one cheek. His expression was crafty, his eyes
+shifting, and he kept in the background.
+
+There was a little stir when Monsieur and Mademoiselle de Laisangy were
+announced, for that same morning the official journal of the empire had
+announced the opening of the Banque de Credit Imperial, with a capital
+of sixty million. Monsieur de Laisangy was the director of this new
+bank.
+
+Goutran advanced to meet this gentleman with an eagerness that would
+have marred the interest which we feel in him had it not been explained
+by the presence of the charming daughter of the banker, Carmen de
+Laisangy.
+
+Goutran had painted Carmen's portrait, which had excited much
+commendation at the Salon, to which fact was probably due the presence
+of the banker and his daughter at this _soiree_.
+
+Carmen had no mother, and she had been brought up somewhat in the
+American style, but as she was very beautiful and had committed none but
+the most trifling indiscretions, many things were overlooked in her
+which in other girls would not have been tolerated.
+
+The banker was an old man and excessively thin, he held himself with
+English stiffness; a muscular contraction affected his upper lip. He
+stood well at Court. He had, it was said, made large loans at the time
+of the _coup d'etat_ in '51, and Bonaparte's accomplices called him
+their friend.
+
+"I am deeply indebted to you, Mademoiselle," said Goutran, "for your
+acceptance of an invitation which I was almost afraid to send."
+
+Carmen was very pretty, as we have said. Her dress was cut very low, and
+revealed too much of an admirably modelled bust. Her manner was not that
+of a young girl, it was more assured. But she was charming.
+
+She laughed, and said, in reply, "You are my especial artist, you know,
+and history tells us that even queens visit their painters--"
+
+"For example, the Duchess of Ferrara!" said a young man to a friend, in
+a low voice. He had caught her words as he passed, and hazarded this
+allusion, somewhat too broad, perhaps, to the visit paid by the Duchess
+to Titian, when she was painted in the costume of mother Eve. He
+undoubtedly supposed that the young lady would not understand his
+remark, and yet it was plain that she with difficulty restrained a
+laugh.
+
+She led Goutran to the picture gallery. "I am told," she said, "that you
+have two great surprises for your guests, to-night."
+
+"Oh! no; only one. You have heard of Jane Zeld, that marvelous bird who
+has come to us from Finland, Lapland, or some other place--we will call
+it Russia?"
+
+"But I was told that she had refused to sing in Paris at
+present--declined even to go to Compiegne."
+
+"Yes, but for you," and Goutran bowed low, "I have obtained what was
+refused to an Emperor!"
+
+He pressed Carmen's arm against his own, as he spoke.
+
+The girl turned and looked him full in the face for a moment. "Take me
+to my father," she said.
+
+Was it fancy, or did she emphasize the two words, "my father," in an odd
+sort of way?
+
+As in silence he obeyed her request, which though brief, was by no means
+stern, a singular scene was taking place.
+
+Signor Fagiano, who talked little, was wandering about through the
+salons. Suddenly he found himself face to face with Monsieur de
+Laisangy.
+
+Signor Fagiano started back, and half covered his face with his hand,
+but in turning to make good his retreat, he half stumbled and fell.
+
+The banker instinctively extended his hand to assist him. Fagiano bowed
+low as he recovered himself, and went into another room.
+
+There was certainly nothing very remarkable in this incident, but Carmen
+started and instantly hastened to the side of the banker, who seemed
+calmly indifferent to what had taken place. Seeing this, her anxiety, if
+she felt any, was dissipated, and she began to talk to Goutran.
+
+At this moment the footman announced two names: "Mademoiselle Jane
+Zeld!" "The Vicomte de Monte-Cristo!"
+
+"You see, I did have two surprises for you," said Goutran.
+
+But suddenly he exclaimed, "My dear Monsieur de Laisangy, you are ill, I
+fear--"
+
+"No, no," stammered the banker, "but it is very warm here, and I will go
+out on the terrace a while, if you will permit me."
+
+He left his daughter, who seemed to attach little importance to this
+sudden indisposition of her father's.
+
+Goutran went forward to receive his new guests. A murmur of admiration
+greeted the lady--Jane Zeld, the cantatrice.
+
+She was tall and slender, and dressed in black tulle with crimson roses.
+She advanced with a smile on her lips. She was young, not more than
+twenty-two, with dark hair raised over her brow like a diadem and
+falling at the back of her head in loose braids. Her complexion was
+clear but pale, her eyes were almond-shaped with long lashes and had a
+singular fixity of expression.
+
+Who was she? No one knew. She had appeared on the stage of public life
+in a singular way. There had been a fire about two months before at one
+of the theatres, and a musical evening had been organized for the
+benefit of the victims.
+
+Society, which likes amusements and is willing to be benevolent at the
+same time, had responded to the appeal, and on the evening of the
+performance the hall was crowded. The principal attraction was the
+return to public life of a tenor, who had had a fit of the sulks and had
+deserted the stage. He had promised to sing with the Diva a celebrated
+duet. When the audience had assembled a message arrived at the theatre.
+The Diva was ill, or pretended to be so, and now, at the last moment,
+announced that it was impossible to appear.
+
+This was terrible. The tenor was implored to sing alone, but he
+positively refused, and the non-appearance of the two stars made the
+affair an utter fiasco. Artists and journalists, director and
+secretaries assembled in the _foyer_--all talked together in their
+excitement. The tenor, half lying on a couch, caressed his black beard,
+while he listened with nonchalance to the entreaties addressed to him.
+But the moment was rapidly approaching when the fatal announcement must
+be made to the audience.
+
+Presently a voice began to sing the jewel song from Faust. The singer
+was at the piano in the _foyer_, but was so enveloped in black lace that
+she could hardly be seen. Her voice was so good, her method so perfect,
+that every one listened in delight. Even the tenor, for he was a
+thorough musician, was completely carried away.
+
+The lady finished the song, then rising from her seat she stood leaning
+against the piano without the smallest embarrassment.
+
+The tenor went forward. "Madame," he said, "do you know the duet we were
+about to sing?"
+
+The singer reseated herself at the piano and playing a prelude, sang two
+or three bars with exquisite expression.
+
+"Madame," began the tenor.
+
+"Mademoiselle," corrected the lady, raising her vail.
+
+"You have a hundred times more talent than Mademoiselle X."
+
+"We will not talk of her, and she must always remain in ignorance of
+this defection of one of her greatest admirers."
+
+But the feeling against the prima donna was that day of excessive
+bitterness, and every one agreed with the tenor.
+
+"Will you sing with me?" asked the tenor.
+
+The lady answered, "As this fete is for charity, I cannot decline."
+
+The director then said:
+
+"We will express our thanks later, dear lady; please give me your name
+that I may make the announcement."
+
+The tenor lifted his head.
+
+"I will lead the lady on, and that is quite enough."
+
+When the public saw that the singer was not the celebrated X. they were
+for a moment confounded, but the tenor was the guaranty, he could not be
+mistaken. The duet began; never had the tenor sang so well.
+
+The unknown was a thorough artist. She looked like a statue of Passion,
+as she stood at the piano, and her triumph was so great that it was the
+talk of Paris for three days. But the strangest part of all was, that
+after receiving this ovation she disappeared. The reporters could not
+find her. Finally one of them, more indefatigable than the others,
+discovered her in a small hotel on the Champs Elysees. Her name was
+inscribed as Jane Zeld, from Russia, and she was accompanied by an
+intendant named Maslenes.
+
+The reporter, armed with this information, proceeded to concoct a
+legend. She belonged, he said, to a great family in Russia. She had
+left her home "for reasons which the _Journal_ was not at liberty to
+reveal."
+
+For a fortnight, managers and directors were on the _qui vive_, but as a
+poetical personage of importance took this time to commit suicide, the
+name of Jane Zeld was gradually forgotten.
+
+When two days before his fete, Goutran received a perfumed note in which
+Jane offered to sing for him, he was charmed.
+
+The lady entered the room, followed at some little distance by
+Esperance, who had conquered his timidity and come. His father had
+bidden him "live," and the young man felt that he was in a measure
+obeying his order when he drove to Goutran's studio, where he arrived
+just in time to assist the fair stranger from her carriage.
+
+The horizon of Paris is so vast that there is always room for a new
+star. And Jane Zeld, even if she had not shrouded herself in so much
+mystery, and without a voice, would have been conspicuous for her
+beauty, which was of aristocratic delicacy. Her lips were like
+pomegranate flowers in their rich red. Her bust was discreetly vailed,
+her arms were beautifully rounded, firm and white, and terminated in
+exquisite hands.
+
+Goutran had begged Esperance to come to his fete. The Vicomte did so,
+and Goutran seemed to forget his presence. Only a few curious glances
+were turned upon him. All eyes were watching Jane who, too, seemed to
+forget the person who had so gallantly assisted her from her carriage.
+Every one was eager for an introduction to this queen of the evening,
+and when she went to the piano a great hush fell upon the room. She sang
+melodies, Slavonic airs, that had never before been heard in Paris, and
+then an aria of a great composer, and when she concluded there was
+immense applause.
+
+"Do you know," said a voice, in the ear of the host, "that you are a
+most eccentric person!"
+
+The painter colored deeply, for it was Carmen who spoke. Goutran had
+indeed behaved very strangely to her. He apologized in some confusion,
+his duties as host, his many interruptions, etc.
+
+"I forgive you," answered Carmen, "on one condition."
+
+"Any thing!"
+
+"Oh! I shall only ask a trifle. Can you spare me a few moments?"
+
+"Certainly."
+
+"Then give me your arm, and take me out on the terrace."
+
+"The terrace! How did you know that I had a terrace?" asked Goutran,
+astonished.
+
+"Pray do not be uneasy. I never visited your studio in your absence. I
+heard Monsieur Laisangy say, just now, that he would go to the terrace
+for a little fresh air."
+
+"Yes," said Goutran, "your father came one day to talk about your
+portrait, and I showed him the place which I dignify with the name of
+terrace. It is but a small square of zinc, on which a few sickly plants
+are withering. It was not worthy to be shown to my friends."
+
+"But you will make an exception in my favor?"
+
+"Most assuredly."
+
+They crossed the studio. Goutran started. He had seen Esperance leaning
+against a door, pale and absorbed in thought. The liquid strains of
+Jane's voice had reached him here, softer and sweeter than ever.
+
+"Will you allow me to present to you the Vicomte de Monte-Cristo?" asked
+Goutran.
+
+"Is he the son of the celebrated Count?" Carmen replied, looking at the
+young man with curiosity.
+
+"Precisely, and one of the best fellows in the world."
+
+"Is that the reason you let him stand there all by himself?" she asked
+with an _etourderie_ that did not seem quite natural.
+
+"It is my misfortune to-night," answered Goutran, "that I am forced to
+neglect all that is dear to me."
+
+Carmen did not reply, but again she turned and looked him full in the
+eyes.
+
+"Yes," she said presently, "introduce the young man, if you choose.
+Being both forgotten to-night, it is well that we should be together."
+
+Esperance looked up at this moment, and Goutran made him a signal.
+
+"Mademoiselle," said the host, "permit me to present to you the Vicomte
+de Monte-Cristo."
+
+Esperance bowed low.
+
+"I think I have never had the pleasure of meeting you before, Vicomte,"
+said Carmen.
+
+"Oh! Esperance is a workingman!" cried Goutran. "He disdains our worldly
+pleasures."
+
+Esperance protested with a gesture, but evidently his mind was
+elsewhere.
+
+"I rely on you, Mademoiselle, and on your charming friends," continued
+Goutran, "to cure this misanthrope of his bad habits!"
+
+Carmen, probably displeased at the indifference manifested by Esperance,
+now drew her host away.
+
+"What do you think of him?" asked Goutran.
+
+"He is good looking, certainly, but I cannot judge of his mind."
+
+"He is entirely upset of late. I have just taken his education in hand."
+
+Carmen seemed trying to recall something.
+
+"The Count of Monte-Cristo is the person who met with such a series of
+incredible adventures, and is named Edmond Dantes?" she asked.
+
+"Yes, you are right."
+
+"And tell me, if you can--excuse the question--if Monsieur de Laisangy
+had ever any relations with him?"
+
+"Ah! that I cannot say. Your father has not been in Paris for some
+years, and the Count has been here very little of late. But I can easily
+find out for you."
+
+"No, no--pray make no inquiries!" said Carmen, eagerly. "But the
+terrace--where is it?"
+
+"Here it is!" answered Goutran, raising a curtain.
+
+The apartment that Goutran occupied was on the second floor, and the
+terrace, of which he had spoken so slightingly, was draped with
+clematis, and commanded a beautiful view down the avenue to the Place de
+la Concorde.
+
+The evening was calm and the air delicious. Carmen certainly deserved to
+be called imprudent. She looked very lovely in the moonlight, and
+Goutran was young and passionately in love. Carmen still leaned on his
+arm. She murmured softly:
+
+"How delicious it is here!"
+
+He slipped his arm around her waist, and as she threw back her head to
+look up at the moon, Goutran leaned forward and kissed her. Let her who
+is without sin throw the first stone!
+
+At this precise moment a clear voice came from the garden below, and
+this voice said:
+
+"Do not be too anxious to learn my name, Monsieur de Laisangy."
+
+The two young people separated hastily. Carmen ran to the balustrade and
+looked over, but she could see nothing, and heard now only two angry
+voices disputing. Carmen went to the window, and opening it, said
+coldly:
+
+"We will go in, if you please!"
+
+As they entered the gallery, the Vicomte de Monte-Cristo hurried up to
+Goutran.
+
+"Come with me," he said, "I must see you at once!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLVIII.
+
+A THUNDER CLAP.
+
+
+Goutran was startled by the tone in which Esperance spoke. He hastened
+with Carmen to the music-room, and then returned to the Vicomte.
+
+"I have been very negligent," the artist said, penitently, "and I have a
+thousand apologies to make. And now, what may I do for you?"
+
+The Vicomte was very pale. He hesitated.
+
+"My friend," he said at last, "you have entire confidence in me, have
+you not?"
+
+"Most certainly. You have won both my esteem and affection."
+
+"And you think me incapable of falsehood?"
+
+"What a question!"
+
+"Then listen to me. I was standing in this spot just now--I had been
+listening to that girl's divine voice. You passed me and spoke to me,
+but I hardly knew what you said, when suddenly from behind that hanging
+came these words, distinctly pronounced:
+
+"Take care, son of Monte-Cristo, take care! You are walking into a snare
+laid for you. Take care!"
+
+"A snare! Who was it that spoke?"
+
+"I know not. I instantly drew aside the curtain, but there was no one
+there."
+
+"No one!" Goutran smiled. "But this is sorcery, my dear fellow. You
+must have been dreaming. It was, of course, some illusion."
+
+"Illusion!" repeated Esperance, impatiently, "I tell you that I heard
+the words distinctly."
+
+"Then it was some one who, seeing you buried in thought, played this
+wretched joke."
+
+"That may be, but there was a tone of sincerity in the voice that struck
+me."
+
+"But there is no sense in the words. A snare! Who could spread one for
+you in this house but myself? Now will you, in your turn, tell me if you
+have absolute faith in me? I have been anxious to coax you from your
+studies and your solitude, and I was glad when I saw you come in
+to-night. Now, my dear fellow, dismiss these fancies. Take my arm and
+make a plunge into the furnace!"
+
+Goutran laughed as he led the way toward the room where Jane Zeld had
+been singing.
+
+"Can the snare," continued Goutran, "be found in the delicious tones of
+that voice, which has moved you so deeply? Those eyes are wonderfully
+bright."
+
+Esperance found himself near the piano. Jane had risen, and was
+receiving the many compliments of her admirers. She saw Esperance, and
+as her eyes fell upon him, Goutran felt his companion start.
+
+"Suppose," he said, "that I present you to our star? Surely she will
+exorcise your dismal thoughts. Mademoiselle," he added, addressing Jane,
+"one of your most ardent admirers solicits the honor of being presented
+to you."
+
+The two--Jane and Esperance--were now face to face. Esperance, pale and
+silent, looked at Jane, while she stood waiting possibly for some words
+of praise.
+
+The crowd swept on, leaving these two persons almost alone, and at this
+moment a candle fell from one of the chandeliers upon the train of
+Jane's black tulle, and shrieks from all the women rent the air. Flames
+threatened to envelop Jane. With a rapidity that was quicker than
+thought, Esperance tore down one of the heavy Eastern portieres, and
+wrapped it around the girl. He did this so skilfully that in a minute
+the flames were stifled, and Jane stood, pale but smiling, as if she
+hardly knew the danger she had been in. She was magnificent, enveloped
+in this mantle that looked like a royal robe.
+
+Having accomplished his work Esperance drew back, like a worshipper
+recoiling in terror after touching the goddess.
+
+At this moment a man made his way through the crowd. He was dressed in
+an old-fashioned livery. His face was large-featured and solemn, but now
+contracted with terror.
+
+"Are you hurt?" he cried, as he reached Jane. Two persons started on
+hearing this voice--one was Jane. She colored deeply, and in much
+agitation answered quickly:
+
+"No, my friend, I am not hurt. It was a slight accident, and this
+gentleman saved me."
+
+Esperance started, because he felt sure that this voice and the one that
+had addressed to him the strange words he had repeated to Goutran, was
+the same. The man turned and looked at the Count.
+
+"Who is this man who seems so interested in his friend?" asked some one.
+
+"Oh! he is the intendant--Master Jacques--who goes everywhere with Jane
+Zeld," answered the ever-present reporter, delighted to have an
+opportunity of displaying his erudition. "He is called Maslenes at the
+hotel."
+
+Jane turned to Esperance:
+
+"Will you kindly add to your kindness by giving me your arm to my
+carriage?"
+
+While the crowd, who had by no means recovered from their agitation,
+complimented her on her courage, Jane moved slowly from the room.
+Goutran made no effort to detain her, though he knew very well that her
+departure would be the signal for a general move, as it was long after
+midnight.
+
+Esperance tried to speak, but he found it impossible to say a word to
+Jane. The intendant preceded them. It was plain to the most casual
+observer that he had by no means gotten over his terror. His feet were
+unsteady, and his hands trembled to that degree that he could hardly
+open the carriage door.
+
+"Once more let me thank you," said Jane, softly. "We shall meet again I
+trust."
+
+Esperance, almost as if in a dream, bowed over her extended hand, and
+pressed a kiss upon it. The hand trembled, but it was not withdrawn too
+hastily.
+
+Then Esperance saw nothing more--neither the intendant, who lingered as
+if to speak to him, nor the coachman as he gathered up the reins. He
+heard the rattle of wheels that bore Jane away, and laid his hand on
+his heart to quell the strange tumult there. He remained standing on the
+pavement, blind to the curious gaze of his servants.
+
+"Are you going home sir, now?" asked his own coachman.
+
+"Ah! what did you say?" Esperance aroused himself and looked around.
+"Yes, I wish to go home." He took a step to the carriage.
+
+"If you will wait a moment, sir, the footman will go for your hat."
+
+His hat! Esperance did not know that his head was uncovered. He was
+amazed at himself, he felt a certain sense of shame.
+
+"No," he replied, "I will go for it myself."
+
+He went back to Goutran's apartment. As he passed through the vestibule
+he heard a sarcastic laugh. He was of course mistaken, for only Goutran,
+with Carmen, were coming down the stairs--Monsieur de Laisangy, Comte
+Velleni, and his Secretary Fagiano.
+
+"You have behaved like a hero, Count!" cried Carmen, as soon as she saw
+him.
+
+Her father at this moment had a violent attack of coughing. Through it
+all he said:
+
+"You have done well, sir."
+
+Signor Fagiano said in clear, distinct tones:
+
+"The Vicomte is a worthy son of his father!"
+
+I know not why, but these words sounded disagreeably to Esperance, who
+turned quickly. But Fagiano was in the shadow, and Esperance saw only
+his eyes, which were very bright. The Vicomte began to think his nerves
+were sadly out of order.
+
+Goutran, when the door had closed on the last of his guests, turned to
+him and asked how he would like a little walk up the Champs-Elysees.
+
+"Very much," answered the Vicomte, "I need fresh air."
+
+He took his hat from the hands of a lacquey, and the two young men
+walked off together. Neither knew that Fagiano had not driven away with
+Comte Velleni, but that, standing in a dark doorway, he followed the
+Vicomte with his eyes. Hissing through his close shut teeth, he said:
+
+"Yes, worthy son of thy father, I swear that I will have my revenge!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLIX.
+
+HOW AND WHERE.
+
+
+As the reporter had discovered, Jane Zeld occupied an apartment on the
+first floor of a small hotel, or rather, in one of those boarding-houses
+frequented by respectable people who come from the four quarters of the
+globe to enjoy the attractions of Paris. It was a most respectable
+establishment, with its iron gate _a l'Anglaise_, its well scrubbed
+steps, its parlor on the _rez de chaussee_, and its three floors above
+all occupied.
+
+The lady who managed this enterprise was the widow of a captain. She
+wore English curls, spoke a few words in various languages, and had a
+marvelous ability for making out long bills. Her prices were high, very
+high, but the situation of her house was at once elegant and retired. It
+was a wonder that these items were not entered on the bill. She had
+never admitted any artists into her sanctuary until the intendant
+Maslenes one day offered her five hundred francs for an apartment which
+she usually rented for three, and no single women. Now Jane Zeld seemed
+to be a single woman, but Madame closed her eyes to this, and now that
+she divined a star in the future, Madame Vollard redoubled her courtesy
+to her lodger. She felt that she was a mine of wealth in the future.
+That night Madame Vollard had insisted on dressing Jane herself, and
+she had excellent taste. She spent a number of hours dwelling on the
+undoubted success of "the dear child," and it was two o'clock when she
+heard the carriage. She ran down the stairs, and when she saw Jane and
+her remarkable costume, she raised her hands in astonishment.
+
+"You have had a pleasant time, I trust!" she exclaimed.
+
+Maslenes gently pushed her back.
+
+"Excuse me, Madame, but the young lady is fatigued, and somewhat ill, I
+fear."
+
+"Ill! What can I do for her? I have camphor, lavender water--what shall
+I get?"
+
+Maslenes led Jane hastily to her room, saying as he did so:
+
+"No, no, it is nothing. To-morrow will do. She only needs rest now."
+
+Jane sank into a chair on reaching her salon.
+
+Maslenes closed the door, and stood motionless and silent until she
+should see fit to speak.
+
+How old was this man? Sixty probably, and yet his face was unwrinkled
+although his hair was perfectly white. His eyes were gray. He inspired
+at first sight a certain repulsion. There were indications of vices, but
+they were of vices that had burned themselves out, of passions that had
+crumbled to ashes. Now, as he stood with his arms folded on his breast,
+his face expressed something more than the interest of a servant in his
+mistress. In his faded eyes there was great compassion. His pale lips
+trembled. Jane did not speak. He said gently:
+
+"You are suffering?"
+
+She started as if from sleep.
+
+"No," she replied, "no. I did not know." Then she looked up. "Ah!" she
+said, "why did you drag me among these people? I will never go anywhere
+again. No, never!"
+
+The man bit his lips. "And yet," he said, "you were received like a
+queen!"
+
+"Why do you say that?" she asked, in a tone of great irritation. "Why do
+you try to awaken in me thoughts which should never be mine? A queen!
+I!"
+
+"But your talent--your voice?"
+
+"What of them? Ah! leave me. I wish to be alone!"
+
+She spoke with some harshness.
+
+He answered sadly enough.
+
+"I am always willing to obey you, Jane. Do not speak in that tone."
+
+"Yes, I know that. Forgive me if I am cruel. Alas! You know what agony I
+hide within my breast." She rose to her feet as she spoke. "Why," she
+cried, "why did not that fire burn me to death? I should have suffered
+less than from this flame which devours my heart!"
+
+She leaned her head against the wall, and burst into passionate weeping.
+
+Maslenes, too, had tears in his eyes. It was plain that he cherished a
+mysterious affection for this beautiful woman, who was tortured by some
+secret sorrow.
+
+"Jane,--Miss Jane," he corrected himself quickly. "I have never seen
+you like this before. Some one must have insulted you!"
+
+His eyes flashed as he said this.
+
+"No," murmured Jane. "No, nothing of the kind."
+
+"Then you are over-excited by this accident. Pray, try and control
+yourself. I know that there are sad thoughts, which you cannot drive
+from your mind, but you are young; you have the future before you, you
+will forget the past. You must!"
+
+Jane dried her tears with her lace handkerchief, and her face became
+suddenly calm.
+
+"Yes, I will forget," she replied, firmly. "You are right, I must do so.
+Forgive me!"
+
+She extended her hand.
+
+He hesitated and, drawing back, replied:
+
+"We will talk together to-morrow. You know that you may rely on me."
+
+"Yes, and I am very weary."
+
+The intendant left the room. When outside the room, he caught at the
+railing, and with almost a sob, exclaimed: "How miserable I am!"
+
+"Well!" asked Madame, from the foot of the stairs, "is the poor child
+any better?"
+
+"Yes, thank you. There was an accident; her dress took fire."
+
+"What a pity! A new dress, too. But I can offer her another in its
+place--one that has just come into my hands."
+
+"You can talk with her about it to-morrow. At present I am worn out."
+
+He hurried to his room, which was in the attic under the eaves,
+furnished with the most excessive simplicity: an iron bedstead, a table,
+and one chair. A trunk with a large lock upon it was also in the room.
+
+Maslenes locked the door, and then dropped on the one chair the place
+contained. He sat for some minutes buried in thought.
+
+"What am I to do? What am I to do?"
+
+Then he rose, and opened the trunk of which we have spoken, with a key
+that he took from his pocket. He took out a bag, and a portfolio. He
+tried the weight of the bag and shrugged his shoulders. He then loosened
+the cord that held the bag together, and produced ten louis, at which he
+looked sadly. The portfolio contained three bank notes of one hundred
+francs each.
+
+"And in two days I have five hundred francs to pay, and afterward what
+is to become of us?"
+
+Then a long silence broken by the words once more, "Oh! how miserable I
+am!" He paced his room like a prisoner in his cell.
+
+"What am I to do? I am afraid to try anything. I might, to be sure, earn
+a crust of bread for myself, but what is to become of her? Poor Jane!
+and yet I would give my very life to spare her one pang. If she pleased
+she might, with her talent, be as rich as a queen, but she cannot forget
+the past, and that is my work!"
+
+He counted the louis over and over again. Suddenly he started. It seemed
+to him that he heard a sound without; he threw the bag and the
+portfolio into the trunk and locked it, then rushed to the door. On
+opening it there was no one to be seen.
+
+"Is there any one here?" he asked.
+
+There was no reply.
+
+"I was mistaken, of course."
+
+He returned to his room and there found that the sounds were repeated,
+and came from the window. He went to it, and looking out saw the
+outlines of a human being. No robber would have attracted attention
+thus. Nevertheless Maslenes took down a revolver before he opened the
+window.
+
+"Who is there?" he asked.
+
+"Some one who wishes to speak to you!" And with these words the person
+jumped into the room.
+
+Maslenes raised his revolver, but at this moment the light fell on the
+face of the unknown. He uttered a cry of horror.
+
+"You here! Ah! leave me, leave me at once, or I swear that I will blow
+out your brains."
+
+"No, sir, you will do nothing of the kind. It would be very inconvenient
+for you to find yourself with a dead body to get rid of. You would be
+obliged to give your name, and you certainly don't care for the police
+to put their nose into your affairs."
+
+And as the intendant did not reply, the new comer continued:
+
+"That is right! You are becoming reasonable, I see. It is really droll
+that we should meet again after all these years in this way!"
+
+He seated himself, and drawing out a cigar, lighted it at the candle.
+
+"Now listen to me," said Maslenes. "Why are you here? Go your way, and
+let me go mine. I am doing my best to repair the evil that I have
+committed in my life. I do not interfere with you, and I only ask that
+you shall leave me alone. You call yourself Fagiano, and my name is
+Maslenes. Now, go."
+
+The other sneered:
+
+"You have become very haughty, convict Sanselme."
+
+Sanselme, for he it was, uttered an angry exclamation:
+
+"And you, Benedetto, are still the same scoundrel that you were!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER L.
+
+CATASTROPHES.
+
+
+The two men started to their feet, looking at each other as they had
+looked when Fate and their crimes first brought them together. Yes, it
+was Sanselme, who had simply changed the letters in his name and become
+Maslenes, who now spoke to his former associate with such contempt.
+
+And it was Benedetto who sneered and laughed in the face of the man whom
+at Toulon he had almost hated. They neither of them spoke, but in their
+faces a strange transformation took place. Sanselme, first so bold,
+almost arrogant, by degrees began to hang his head, while Benedetto
+looked more and more triumphant.
+
+"Let us sit down and reason together," he said.
+
+"And why?" answered Sanselme, drearily. "You and I have nothing in
+common."
+
+"I don't know that!"
+
+"Listen to me for one moment. Our respective positions must be
+distinctly defined. Fate brought us together--Fate separated us. Neither
+you nor I desire to awaken all these terrible memories. I now bid you
+forget my very existence--"
+
+He stopped short. Benedetto had laid his hand on his shoulder.
+
+"And suppose I do not wish to be forgotten by you?" he said, slowly.
+
+Sanselme started and looked at him with a terrified expression.
+
+"I desire quite the contrary, in fact. I wish you to recall every
+circumstance of our former acquaintance, up to that night at Beausset--"
+
+"For Heaven's sake, say no more!"
+
+"I must, for I need a witness to authenticate certain facts. And that
+witness must be yourself."
+
+"You forget, I fancy, that were I to reveal the truth the scaffold would
+be your end!"
+
+"Ah! that is my affair, Sanselme. You have but to answer my questions
+truly. I rely on you, for really," sneered Benedetto, "you have quite
+the air of an honest man. You remember. Do you remember the night of the
+24th of February, 1839?"
+
+"Am I dreaming?" murmured Sanselme, hiding his face. "Can he really ask
+such a question?"
+
+"Do you remember the little house behind the church?"
+
+"Yes, yes, I remember."
+
+"A certain person of my acquaintance had a little business to attend to
+in that house. He was successful, and he carried off a million."
+
+"I know nothing about that!" cried Sanselme, eagerly. And then with a
+gesture of loathing, he added, "I never saw any of the money."
+
+"I dare say. You were extremely disinterested! I took the money and
+meant to get away with it quietly, but accident defeated this plan."
+
+"For God's sake, say no more! Have you a heart?"
+
+Benedetto shrugged his shoulders, and continued:
+
+"You know I heard two persons come up the stairs. I hid behind the door
+with my knife, and when the door opened, I struck at the first person I
+saw--"
+
+"And it was your mother!"
+
+"Ah! I see your memory is returning. Yes, it was my mother; but how did
+you know it?"
+
+"I had seen her in the gorge, and she had told me her story and implored
+me to save her son."
+
+"And did she tell you her name?" asked Benedetto, with some uneasiness.
+
+"She told me all, but I swore never to reveal it to any one."
+
+"And she believed in the oath of a convict?"
+
+"I have kept it, at all events."
+
+"You are a hero! But you can, at least, tell me the name."
+
+"No," answered Sanselme, with energy. "You are planning some new
+villainy. I shall not tell you!"
+
+Benedetto laughed.
+
+"You must think me very simple. I merely wished to test your memory. The
+name of this woman was Danglars."
+
+Sanselme uttered an exclamation. He had hoped that his refusal would
+frustrate some nefarious design.
+
+"Now go," he said, sadly. "You can have nothing more to say to me."
+
+"You are mistaken! One would think that you did not care to see me."
+
+"The truth is, Benedetto, that anything connected with the past is
+hideously painful to me. I wish to forget."
+
+"You wish to forget, too, that you once tried to kill me."
+
+"Let us say no more about that. Tell me frankly what you want me to do,
+and if possible I will do it."
+
+"You are becoming more reasonable, Sanselme. But what is that new life
+of which you speak so glibly and with a certain tenderness in your
+voice? Perhaps I can guess. She is pretty, that is a fact!"
+
+Sanselme started and took hold of Benedetto's arm.
+
+"Not another word like that, Benedetto! Not if you wish to live!"
+
+"Indeed! What would you do?"
+
+"My fate is in your hands," answered Sanselme. "You can at any moment
+denounce me as an escaped convict. Do what you please, but you shall not
+say one word of her who is in this house."
+
+"Upon my word, Sanselme, it seems to me that you carry matters with
+rather a high hand. Suppose I do not obey you?"
+
+"Then I will denounce you, with the certainty that my arrest will follow
+yours. You may laugh when I say that in spite of my shameful past I am
+to-day an honest man, devoting my whole life to a creature who has no
+one but myself in the world. If she knew who I was she would despise
+me."
+
+Benedetto listened with his maddening smile. Suddenly he said:
+
+"Have you pen, ink and paper?"
+
+"Yes, I have them. Why?"
+
+"Produce them. I will give my reasons later."
+
+Sanselme produced what was required.
+
+"Very good," said Benedetto. "And now take this pen and oblige me by
+writing a few lines."
+
+"What shall I write?"
+
+"I will dictate to you, that will be easier.
+
+"On the 24th of February, 1839, Benedetto, an escaped convict from
+Toulon, assassinated Madame Danglars, his mother."
+
+"But this is horrible! No, I will not write that!"
+
+"You had better do it without further objections. You can sign any name
+you please."
+
+Sanselme still hesitated.
+
+"No," he said, finally, "I refuse. I of course do not know what use you
+intend to make of this paper, but I know you. Some infamous machination
+is on foot which I will not aid."
+
+Benedetto smiled.
+
+"You are far from rich," he said, "for I was at the window some little
+time before I knocked. I must tell you that Comte Velleni's hotel is
+next this, and I had not the smallest difficulty in coming here."
+
+Sanselme glanced at the trunk that contained his scanty means.
+
+"Precisely," said Benedetto, "a few louis and two or three bits of
+paper."
+
+"I ask nothing from you."
+
+"But I offer these." And Benedetto took from an elegant portfolio ten
+bank notes of one thousand francs each, and spread them out on the bed.
+"Write what I bid you and this money is yours."
+
+Sanselme turned very pale. It seemed as if Benedetto was his evil
+genius--his tempter. He instantly realized what this sum would do for
+her whose welfare was his perpetual anxiety.
+
+"Will you write?"
+
+Sanselme dipped his pen into the ink and began. Some instinct warned him
+that he was doing wrong. He acted without volition of his own, and
+simply in obedience to another, it is true, and it seemed to him that he
+himself risked nothing, for he simply told the truth, and yet he was
+troubled. Had Sanselme been alone in the world with no one but himself
+to care for he might not have been so strict, for he had run many risks
+in his life. But he felt that this was something wrong, and that evil
+consequences would alight on not only himself, but her. The money
+fascinated him, however. He wrote a few words, and then, dashing down
+the pen, started up.
+
+"No, I will not write. Take away your money, Benedetto, it will bring me
+misfortune."
+
+Benedetto uttered a furious oath. Then seizing a pen he himself wrote a
+couple of lines. Laying the paper before Sanselme, he said, "You will
+write just what I say, or I will send this!"
+
+The two lines commenced thus: "She who bears the name of Jane Zeld,
+is--"
+
+Sanselme read no more. With a cry of rage he sprang at Benedetto, who
+thrust him back fiercely.
+
+"No more of this nonsense!" he said. "Either you write, or I do, and my
+words shall appear in three of the most prominent Parisian journals."
+
+Sanselme, with haggard eyes, did not seem to hear. Then suddenly he
+seized the pen and wrote what Benedetto required.
+
+"If I give you this paper," he said, hoarsely, "will you swear by--good
+heavens! He believes in nothing! What will he swear by?"
+
+"My dear fellow, I have not the smallest interest in troubling your
+repose. This is better than any oath," said Benedetto.
+
+Sanselme made no further resistance.
+
+Benedetto looked at the paper. "The fool has signed his own name!" he
+said to himself. "But it may be better, after all!" And in another
+moment Benedetto vanished through the window.
+
+Sanselme sat motionless for some time, then his wandering eyes fell on
+the bank-notes. He snatched them up.
+
+"We must fly!" he said aloud. "He knows all, and there is not a moment
+to lose. Jane--my Jane! Yes, she will consent, I am sure. We will take
+the seven o'clock train to Havre, and then will go to America. There she
+will lead a new life!" He looked around the room.
+
+"My baggage," he said to himself, "will not be much of a hindrance; but
+Jane must be aroused at once. What shall I say to her? What reason shall
+I give? Pshaw! she will require none. Besides, there is nothing to keep
+us in Paris."
+
+With infinite caution he opened the door and stole down the stairs,
+feeling his way along the corridor in the darkness, until he reached
+Jane's door, which he found open.
+
+Sanselme was aghast. The chamber was empty.
+
+Sanselme, with a frightful imprecation, rushed down stairs; the street
+door was open. Half mad, Sanselme went out into the street.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LI.
+
+A SHOT FROM A REVOLVER.
+
+
+Goutran and Esperance went out together from the little hotel in the
+avenue Montaugne. Slowly and without talking they walked on side by
+side. The moon had gone down; it was one of those soft, starry nights
+which are so delicious. The Champs Elysees was deserted.
+
+Suddenly Goutran exclaimed, "It is best to go on with it, I am sure!"
+
+Esperance looked at his friend in surprise. "What are you saying?" he
+asked.
+
+Goutran laughed. "I was only thinking aloud," he said. "The fact is, I
+am attempting to decide upon an important question. To marry, or not to
+marry. What do you say?"
+
+"I know so little of life that I can give no advice," answered
+Esperance, "and yet," he continued, "it seems to me that no happiness
+can be so great as to spend your life in the companionship of one who
+will share your joys and your sorrows."
+
+"Then you advise me to marry?"
+
+"If the woman is worthy of you."
+
+Goutran had begun this conversation in a gay, familiar tone, but the
+gravity of Esperance influenced him, and he continued more seriously, "I
+wished to consult you, because I knew you to be a man who weighed such
+matters seriously. You noticed a young lady, to-night--but what is the
+matter?"
+
+Esperance had started. "It is nothing, my foot slipped. And this young
+lady?"
+
+"The pretty blonde is the one I mean."
+
+"Oh!" answered Esperance, with a sigh of relief, "I congratulate you,
+most warmly. You love her?"
+
+"I hardly know. I am attracted by her, I admire her beauty, the
+brilliancy of her eyes, her figure and her manner. Is this love?"
+
+"I have no experience in such matters, you know."
+
+"But you have instinct, which is worth ten times as much as experience.
+Carmen is an adorable creature, and when I am with her I can think of no
+one else. Twenty times this evening the decisive words were on my lips."
+
+"And why did you not speak?"
+
+"Ah! that is as much of a mystery to me as to you. A strange reluctance
+kept me back--almost a presentiment of evil. Do you know what I mean?"
+
+"I understand that. I have felt the same thing at times."
+
+"But to return to Carmen. Whenever I think of asking her to marry me, I
+feel as if I were deliberately inviting misfortune."
+
+"You are not well, perhaps?"
+
+"Bless my soul! How reasonable you are! No, I am well, I am greatly in
+love, and yet--"
+
+"Upon my word!" said the Vicomte, "I can't see what you expect me to
+say."
+
+"I have not told you all, and I have an admission to make that is not
+altogether agreeable. The truth is, I was so carried away by Carmen's
+beauty, that--"
+
+"You became engaged to her?"
+
+"I kissed her, my friend, and I was not repulsed nor reproved. She
+considered the kiss given to her fiance. And now, shall I marry her? I
+tell you, that even when my lips met hers, I felt more sharply than ever
+the presentiment of which I spoke. I know that after what has taken
+place I ought to apply to her father for her hand. Why do I hesitate? I
+cannot tell."
+
+"Does Monsieur de Laisangy inspire you with absolute confidence?" asked
+Esperance, after a long pause.
+
+The two friends had passed the Arc de Triomphe by this time, and entered
+the dark shadows of the Bois.
+
+"Monsieur de Laisangy seems to have an excellent reputation. Bankers are
+measured by a standard of their own, and public opinion is never very
+strict in regard to them. Monsieur de Laisangy is rich, but no one says
+he has made his money dishonestly. I know nothing of his past, but have
+never heard a whisper against him, and yet sometimes he inspires me with
+absolute repulsion."
+
+"My dear Goutran," said Esperance, in that grave, steady voice, which
+was so like his father's, "I am very young, I know nothing of life, I
+have never loved, but it seems to me that I could not speak as you have
+done, if I felt sincerely or deeply. I do not think I could analyze my
+ambitions so artistically." Esperance now began to speak more rapidly
+and with emotion. "To love is to give up one's entire being, to live in
+another. You say that you love, that your lips have touched those of
+whom you have chosen, and that your heart sank at that same moment. No,
+you do not love Carmen de Laisangy!"
+
+At this moment both men heard the report of a pistol.
+
+"What is that?" cried Goutran.
+
+"Some crime, I fear," answered his companion.
+
+The two friends forced their way through the underbrush, Esperance a
+little in advance. Suddenly he beheld in an open space a prostrate form.
+It was that of a woman. Esperance rushed forward and lifted her from the
+ground. He uttered a hoarse cry. It was she whose life he had so
+recently saved--it was Jane Zeld. A small revolver lay at her side.
+
+Esperance, bearing her in his vigorous arms, made his way into the
+road.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LII.
+
+"WILL JANE ZELD LIVE?"
+
+
+Goutran had not seen the face of the burthen borne by Esperance, who had
+uttered no name, and whose movements had been so rapid that Goutran had
+some difficulty in overtaking him.
+
+Where did Esperance propose to go? He had not asked himself this
+question. Goutran ran after him.
+
+"Where are you carrying that dead body?" he shouted.
+
+Esperance stopped short. "Was she dead?" he asked himself. "No, no," he
+cried, "she lives--she breathes! She must not die!"
+
+"Do you know this woman?" asked Goutran. Suddenly he started back.
+
+Jane was still wrapped in the oriental stuff. He remembered the
+material.
+
+"Good heavens!" he cried, "what does this mean? It is Jane!"
+
+They reached the avenue, and looked about for a carriage, but none was
+to be seen.
+
+"Where are we to take this poor thing?" said Goutran.
+
+"To my rooms," answered Esperance. "But I am afraid she will die in my
+arms!"
+
+"I will hasten on and arouse the servants, and have everything
+prepared."
+
+"Yes, by all means. I am strong, and shall be there almost as soon as
+yourself."
+
+In a very few minutes they reached the hotel, which Goutran opened with
+a key given him by Esperance. They entered the corridor that led to the
+rooms formerly occupied by Haydee.
+
+Esperance, with infinite precautions, laid Jane on the bed.
+
+The girl's hair had fallen loose, and its darkness made an admirable
+background for her delicate features.
+
+When Esperance saw this frail form thus inert, and the blue-veined lids
+closing the eyes, he yielded to his emotion and sobbed like a child. He
+was very unlike his father, and in these few moments he probably
+suffered more than his father had ever done.
+
+Goutran, in the meantime, had lighted the room, then coming to the side
+of the bed, he leaned over the girl.
+
+"Esperance!" he said, "rouse yourself, if you wish to save her!"
+
+With a violent effort Esperance resumed his self-control.
+
+"Ah! you are right, my friend. But if Jane is dead, I shall die also,
+for I love her--I love her!"
+
+And he uttered these words in a tone of such sincerity that Goutran
+understood the whole.
+
+"We must see the wound," continued Esperance, "for I am something of a
+physician."
+
+Goutran gently removed the shawl, and on the left bosom there was a
+small, dark spot. Esperance listened for the beating of her heart. There
+was a moment of terrible suspense. At last Esperance rose from his
+knees.
+
+"She is living," he said, in a grave voice. "Goutran, go to my room and
+bring me a small sandal-wood case on the chimney-piece."
+
+Esperance spoke now with absolute calmness. He was himself once more.
+When alone with Jane he took her head in his hands.
+
+"Why," he said in his low, harmonious tone, "why did you wish to die?
+You shall live, Jane, and nothing shall ever separate us more!"
+
+He pressed his lips to Jane's. This kiss was an oath. Would Esperance
+keep it?
+
+Goutran returned with the case.
+
+"Shall I not call some one?" asked the young man.
+
+"No, not yet," Esperance replied.
+
+He opened the box and took out an instrument.
+
+"My hand does not tremble, does it?"
+
+"No," said the painter, "it is perfectly firm."
+
+Then, entirely master of himself though deadly pale, Esperance probed
+the wound.
+
+Goutran watched every movement and studied his face. It was a strange
+scene. Jane, with her fair bosom all uncovered, seemed to sleep.
+
+"Goutran," said Esperance in a whisper, "the ball has not gone far--I
+can touch it! Give me the case again," he said presently. He selected
+other instruments. "I have it!" exclaimed Esperance, and the ball was
+in his hand.
+
+As he spoke the kind face of Madame Caraman appeared at the door. For
+the last twenty minutes she had heard footsteps over her head in the
+room of the deceased Countess, which no one ever entered except the
+Count, and now she beheld a stranger on the bed in this sacred room.
+
+"Madame Caraman," said Esperance, "here is a lady accidentally wounded.
+I beg of you to take care of her--do all that her condition requires."
+
+"Poor soul!" cried the good woman. "What does it all mean?"
+
+"I am just about to dress the wound. Do not be frightened. One word,
+however--I do not wish any one to know that she is here. You will treat
+her as if she were my sister."
+
+"Of course, sir, of course, but am I to say nothing to the Count?"
+
+"He is away, I know not where. I desire the secret to be kept
+punctiliously."
+
+"Yes, sir, on one condition."
+
+"A condition? And what may that be?"
+
+"It is that, like your father, you will call me Mamma Caraman--not
+Madame!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LIII.
+
+JANE ZELD'S SECRET.
+
+
+Sanselme rushed from the Maison Vollard. He seemed half wild with grief
+and rage. Where was he going? He knew not. Jane had gone without a word
+of farewell, and this man, whom we have seen unmoved amid all the
+horrors of Toulon, now wept as he ran. Whom should he ask? Two policemen
+passed, and, great as was Sanselme's terror of the police, he went up to
+them at once. Having by this time recovered his composure, he questioned
+them calmly. He was waiting for a lady, he was her intendant. As she was
+a foreigner, he was afraid she had gone astray.
+
+One of the men replied, in a surly tone:
+
+"If the lady has servants, how is it that she is out alone and on foot?"
+
+To this natural remark Sanselme had no reply ready. He had been guilty
+of a great folly. He realized this now, and felt sure that he would be
+watched. Jane had no acquaintances in Paris. She had been out but twice,
+once to the charitable fete, when she sang and met with such success,
+and the second time was that same night.
+
+Sanselme asked if Jane's mind could be affected. Could insanity come on
+thus suddenly? There was a secret in Jane's life, and he himself had
+seen her only a few hours before overcome with grief.
+
+Sanselme went up and down the Champs Elysees for an hour. Suddenly he
+remembered that the Seine was not far off. Why had he not thought of
+this before? He hastened to the river side, but saw nothing to confirm
+his suspicions.
+
+We will now disclose the secret tie between this man and Jane Zeld.
+Fifteen years before, the convict Sanselme had witnessed a terrible
+scene in a cottage at Beausset, a village between Toulon and Marseilles.
+A son had killed his mother, and then departed, carrying with him a
+large sum of money. Bad as was Sanselme, he shuddered at this terrible
+crime. He had aided in Benedetto's escape with the hope of receiving
+part of the money, but he repulsed the blood-stained hand that offered
+it.
+
+"Be off with you or I will kill you!" he cried, and Benedetto fled. Our
+readers will remember how he was finally thrown up by the sea on the
+island of Monte-Cristo.
+
+Sanselme remained alone with the corpse. The sun rose, and finally a ray
+crept over the face of the dead woman. Sanselme started. Perhaps she is
+not dead after all. He stooped and lifted her from the floor. Should he
+call for assistance? To do so was to deliver himself up as an escaped
+convict. And this was not all. He would be suspected of the murder. He
+would be led not to the galleys but to the scaffold.
+
+"It would be useless for me to make any denial."
+
+Still his humanity was large enough to induce him to run the risk, and
+he would probably have called for assistance had he not at that moment
+heard the sound of wheels. It was the priest returning home. Sanselme
+breathed a sigh of relief. Now he would have the aid he required. He
+would wait until the priest came up. The outer door stood wide open. It
+was through this door that Benedetto had fled. Sanselme heard the priest
+utter an exclamation of surprise, and then he went to his servant's
+door, and knowing her deafness knocked and called loudly to her to
+awake. This was Sanselme's salvation. He leaned from the window and
+caught a branch from the tree by which Benedetto had clambered to the
+upper room. This done, it was easy for Sanselme then to drop to the
+ground. He ran around the house instantly. He was saved. He hastily
+decided that Benedetto had taken the shortest road to the sea, and that
+he himself would try to get out of France by the eastern frontier.
+
+We will not dwell on all he endured. But a month later, Sanselme,
+completely changed in appearance, entered Switzerland, going thence to
+Germany. Intelligent and active, he had no difficulty in obtaining
+employment. And Benedetto's crime seemed to have had a marvelous effect
+upon him. He seemed resolved upon repentance. For ten years, utilizing
+his acquaintance with foreign languages, Maslenes--he had taken this
+name--lived quietly in Munich. Not the smallest indiscretion on his part
+attracted the attention of the police. He was almost happy with these
+children about him, his pupils; but he was alone in his so-called home,
+and all at once a great longing came over him to see France once more.
+He was well aware that it would be a great imprudence on his part to
+return to his native land; he might be recognized, or some chance might
+reveal his past.
+
+Nevertheless, he went. Ten years had elapsed since he crossed the
+frontier. He went first to Lyons, not daring to attempt Paris, although
+he chose a large city, believing that there he would incur less risk of
+being recognized. He had saved some money, and thought he could teach
+again. He had not been six months in Lyons before he was known as the
+good Monsieur Maslenes, and was liked by every one. He led the most
+regular life that could be imagined, and no one would have suspected
+that this stout, placid-looking person could be an escaped convict. He
+fully intended to live and die thus in obscurity, and really enjoyed the
+torpor of this existence. In the evening he took long walks, and from
+motives of prudence went out but little by daylight. Alone in the
+darkness, he often felt intense remorse, and remorse is not a pleasing
+companion.
+
+One winter's night--the snow had been falling all day--Sanselme stayed
+out later than usual. The cold was sharp and there was no moon. Suddenly
+he heard an angry discussion across the street. Coarse voices and then a
+woman's tone of appeal. Sanselme did not linger, he had made it a rule
+never to interfere in quarrels. He feared any complication which should
+compromise him. But as he hurried on, he heard a wild cry for help.
+
+"Oh! leave my child!" the woman cried. "Help! Help!"
+
+Sanselme forgot all his prudence and ran in the direction of the cries.
+He found a woman struggling with three drunken men, trying to tear from
+them a young girl about thirteen, simply dressed. The girl was
+struggling, but oddly enough she did not utter a sound.
+
+"Don't put on these airs, Zelda," said one of the ruffians, "let the
+little girl have a fling too. You have had yours."
+
+In her struggle the girl dropped a box she carried. Tulles and laces
+were scattered over the ground. She saw Sanselme, and then for the first
+time she screamed for help. Then with one blow Sanselme felled the man
+who held the girl. He fell stunned to the ground. The child was free,
+and the two remaining scoundrels turned their attention to the defender.
+They were stout, strong fellows, with well-developed muscles, but they
+were no match for Sanselme. He hurled one against the wall and the other
+into the middle of the street.
+
+"Be off with you!" said Sanselme.
+
+"Oh! thank you, sir. But my mother, my poor mother!"
+
+The woman had sunk upon the snow exhausted. The girl endeavored to lift
+her.
+
+"Let me," said Sanselme. "Do you live far from here?"
+
+This question, though so simple, seemed to agitate the girl. Sanselme
+now held her mother in his arms.
+
+"Well! Where am I to go?"
+
+She answered slowly:
+
+"Two steps from there. The Rue Travehefoin."
+
+"I don't think I know the street."
+
+"Very possibly," stammered the girl. "I will show you the way."
+
+She had returned the laces to the box, and then with a determined step
+led the way. A few feet from the Quai, where this scene had taken place,
+there was at this time a network of narrow, dark and wretched streets.
+It was in fact regarded as the worst part of the town. Sanselme did not
+care for this. He was happy that he had done some good at last. The girl
+turned into a lane that was very dark, in spite of the street lamp
+burning at the further end. The girl finally stopped before a tall
+house, from which came shouts of laughter and singing. The door was not
+close shut and the girl pushed it open. A stout woman stood just within.
+
+"Upon my word!" she cried. "Did Zelda need two hours to--"
+
+"My mother is dying," said the child, as she held the door wide open.
+
+Sanselme appeared, carrying the inanimate form.
+
+"Drunk again!" cried the stout woman.
+
+"This woman is ill," answered Sanselme, roughly, who now understood the
+kind of a place he was in. "Get out of my way!" he added.
+
+"Ill! Oh! what stuff. Come on, though. I will see to this to-morrow!"
+
+And she took down a lantern from the wall and led the way up the
+creaking stairs. Two or three men came out of the lower room at the same
+moment.
+
+"Is that Zelda?" they shouted. "Send her here to sing for us."
+
+But the stout woman opened a door and Sanselme laid his burden on the
+bed. It was a sordid room in which he found himself. On the dirty walls
+hung some colored prints of doubtful propriety. On one was a dark stain,
+as if a glass of wine had been thrown upon it.
+
+"Let me take off the quilt," said the woman, extending her hand to
+remove the ragged covering on the bed.
+
+Sanselme, filled with disgust at her cupidity, answered:
+
+"Let everything alone. I will pay whatever is necessary."
+
+"Very good, sir; if you answer for it, that's all right."
+
+"And now I want a physician," he added.
+
+"A physician! Oh, that is nonsense. You must not be taken in in this
+way. She goes out every evening for her daughter, who is apprenticed to
+a milliner, and this time she took a drop too much, that is all!"
+
+A bitter sob was heard from the girl, who sat with her hands covering
+her face.
+
+Sanselme pitied the poor child. He took a twenty franc piece from his
+pocket.
+
+"I want a doctor," he said, "and pray make haste."
+
+"Very good, sir, since I see you are willing to pay him, and that it
+won't be left for me to do."
+
+Sanselme was left alone with these two women. He was greatly annoyed
+that accident had brought him to such a house, and was half tempted to
+fly. He had done his duty and had defended the two women from their
+assailants. What more had he to do here?
+
+The merest trifle would compromise his position, for Lyons, though a
+large city, is but a village; every trifle becomes known, and is
+commented upon and exaggerated.
+
+He stood twisting his hat in his hands. Presently, with an air of
+decision, he tossed it on a chair.
+
+"It won't do to be cowardly!" he said, half aloud.
+
+This man, who had been so vicious, was now eager to do good. He must see
+the physician. But could he do nothing while awaiting his arrival?
+Whatever were the errors of this poor creature, she was a woman, and
+suffering. He did not know what she required. He turned to the girl.
+
+"Mademoiselle!" he said, making his voice as gentle and paternal as
+possible.
+
+She looked up, and for the first time he saw her. She was absolutely
+adorable, with her glossy, dark hair carried back plainly from her fair
+brow. How old was she? Sixteen, perhaps, but so slender that she looked
+younger.
+
+"You must unfasten your mother's dress," said Sanselme, "that she may
+have air."
+
+The girl looked at him as if she did not understand him. Oh! what shame
+and humiliation were in that young heart!
+
+Sanselme understood, for he said:
+
+"She is your mother, I believe?"
+
+She rose quickly and went to the bed, and leaning over the woman, kissed
+her brow. This was her answer to Sanselme's question. She then loosened
+the sick woman's garments. Feeling her child's hands, and able to
+breathe better, the woman said:
+
+"Do not touch me; I am in agony!"
+
+That was the beginning of delirium.
+
+"I am cold!" she cried. "Why do you put ice on my feet?" and she started
+up so suddenly that her daughter could not hold her.
+
+"Help me, sir," the girl cried to Sanselme.
+
+He ran to her assistance. He was astonished to see that the woman was
+not more than thirty-five, but her eyes were haggard, and she bore the
+marks of precocious old age.
+
+She uttered a shriek so wild and despairing that it curdled the blood in
+Sanselme's veins, and as he looked her full in the face, he trembled
+from head to foot.
+
+The doors opened; it was the physician, who looked utterly disgusted
+that he should have been called to such a place. He entered noisily,
+without removing his hat, and as he caught sight of the sick woman,
+looking like an inspired Pythoness, he said roughly:
+
+"Come, now, lie down."
+
+She looked at him with evident terror, and then, docile as a child, she
+lay down on the bed.
+
+The physician made a rapid examination.
+
+"There is nothing to be done," he said; "this woman is at the end of her
+rope."
+
+"For Heaven's sake, sir, be quiet!" whispered Sanselme, angrily. "The
+woman hears you, and you will kill her!"
+
+The Doctor took off his spectacles and closed them with a snap; then
+looking at Sanselme from head to foot, he said:
+
+"You are much interested in Madame. A relative, I presume?"
+
+"That is none of your affairs, sir. I beg you to confine yourself to
+writing your prescriptions, and I will see that you are paid."
+
+The physician was impressed by the tone in which these words were
+uttered. He wrote the prescription and went away. Then Sanselme said he
+would go for the medicine. He was absolutely livid and could hardly
+stand. He returned in twenty minutes, and met the mistress of the house
+on the street, where she was waiting.
+
+"Look here!" she said; "I don't like all this in my house, and I am
+going to bundle Zelda off to the Hospital. I don't want her to die
+here."
+
+Sanselme hardly heard her.
+
+"Tell me," he said, hastily, "what this woman's name is."
+
+"That is easy enough; I have her papers. It is something like Zeld, and
+we have got to calling her Zelda--it is more taking, you know."
+
+"Yes, I see; but do you know anything of her past?"
+
+"Not much."
+
+"She has a daughter?"
+
+"Yes, which is not at all pleasant for us. Of course, the child can't
+live here; she stays across the street. Zelda goes every night to the
+shop for her. It is nonsense, of course, for she will go the same way as
+her mother in the end."
+
+"Will you show me the papers?" asked Sanselme, "and I will do all I can
+for this woman."
+
+"Help me to get rid of her! That is all I ask."
+
+"Rely on me."
+
+Sanselme presently had the papers in his hands. The sick woman's name
+was Jane Zeld. She came from a little village in Switzerland, near
+Zurich. There was also a paper dated many years since, signed by her
+father, authorizing her to reside in the Commune of Selzheim, in Alsace.
+Sanselme turned sick and dizzy; he caught at the wall for support.
+
+"What on earth is the matter?" asked the old woman.
+
+He stammered a few incoherent words. Then in a measure recovering
+himself, he said:
+
+"I give you my word that I will take her away in the morning."
+
+"But if she should die in the night! However, I am too kind-hearted for
+my own good. She may stay here to night. But who will take care of her?"
+
+"I will," answered Sanselme; "but I must beg that you will take her
+daughter out of the room."
+
+"I can give her a bed in the closet next her mother's room. But you know
+if it were known, I should get into trouble, because she's a minor."
+
+They returned to the sick room. Zelda seemed calmer. The daughter was
+crouched upon the floor at the side of the bed. Sanselme spoke to her
+gently.
+
+"My child," he said, "I will take care of your mother to-night. You are
+tired, and a room is ready for you."
+
+"No! no!" cried the child. "I cannot stay here to-night, unless I am in
+my mother's room."
+
+And she looked so horrified that Sanselme was silent. He realized what
+this young creature must feel at the terrible life led by her mother.
+When the girl understood that the room she was to have could be reached
+only through that occupied by her mother, she said no more, but she
+seemed to shrink from the very air she breathed.
+
+The unhappy Zelda had fallen into a state of prostration, that rendered
+her unconscious of all that was going on about her. Her daughter went to
+her side.
+
+"Do not disturb her," said Sanselme, "she is asleep."
+
+For the first time the girl looked him full in the face. "You are very
+kind," she said. "You knew my mother then?"
+
+"Oh! no," answered Sanselme, eagerly, "but you are very tired, and some
+one must stay with her to-night."
+
+He spoke with a certain hesitation, as if he were telling a falsehood.
+The girl was too innocent to notice this manner.
+
+"If my mother wakes you will call me. Poor mamma! she is so kind."
+
+"I will call you, I give you my word," Sanselme answered.
+
+And the girl left the room, and in some ten minutes Sanselme heard her
+regular breathing; tired Nature asserted herself.
+
+Then he turned to the bed. From the rooms below came shrill laughter and
+the rattle of glasses. They cared little down there whether this poor
+creature lived or died. She was dying, of this Sanselme felt sure. He
+began to walk up and down the room, occasionally stopping at the side of
+the bed, as if seeking to discover in this pale, drawn face some
+forgotten image.
+
+It was very cold, and the light was dim; by degrees the house became
+quiet. He sat in the one chair in the room buried in thought. Suddenly
+the sick woman began to toss on her bed. He went to her, and said,
+gently, "Are you in pain?"
+
+"No."
+
+"Then try to sleep."
+
+"Sleep!" repeated the poor creature, and then, without any apparent
+reason, she said to herself, over and over again, "Accursed! Accursed!"
+
+Then she began to whisper. She raised herself in her bed, and was
+terrible to look upon. "I was a good girl," she said, "more than that, I
+was an innocent one. I used to go to confession. I was told to do so."
+
+Sanselme listened with beads of sweat on his brow. He determined to
+drink the cup to the dregs. "Yes," he said, "go on. It was at Selzheim."
+
+"Selzheim! yes. Oh! how sweet it was there. There was a mountain, and a
+lovely brook where I bathed my feet when I was a little thing."
+
+"And a Square and a fountain," whispered Sanselme.
+
+"Yes, how gay it was there, when we all played together. And then he
+came, all in black. We thought him so kind and good. He was the cure,
+you know."
+
+Sanselme started back.
+
+"And when he said to me, 'Jane, why do you not come to confession?' I
+told him the truth, and said it was because I had nothing to confess."
+
+"Go on! go on!" said Sanselme.
+
+Further doubt was impossible, he was himself the infamous priest. He
+fell on his knees, and sobbed and wept.
+
+The dying woman continued: "I went to confession as the cure bade me,
+and--"
+
+But we will not dwell on this terrible story as told by these dying
+lips. The priest abused his trust. His superiors knew the truth, but
+with that _esprit de corps_, which is in fact complicity, simply removed
+him and avoided all open scandal. His victim remained in the village.
+And because of his crime, she was condemned and despised. She was driven
+away, and gave birth to her child. And then, to live and to give bread
+to this child, she had become what she was.
+
+Sanselme took the hand of the dying woman.
+
+"And the child?" he asked. "Where is she?"
+
+The woman looked at him with her big dark eyes. For the first time she
+seemed conscious of his presence. And suddenly, in spite of the lapse of
+years, she recognized him. She shrank away with a frenzied shrink.
+
+"Yes, it is I! pardon me!" and Sanselme sank on his knees; "and tell me,
+I implore you, where the child is?"
+
+She did not speak, she could not. She stretched out her hand, and
+pointed to the room where her daughter was.
+
+"And she is my child?" cried Sanselme.
+
+"Yes," answered the dying woman. And as if this simple word had snapped
+the mainspring of life, she fell dead on the floor.
+
+He lifted her and laid her on the bed, and then the wretched man,
+crushed under the weight of his shame, dared to pray.
+
+When morning broke he knocked on the door of the next room. The girl
+awoke with a start and ran out.
+
+"Your mother is dead," he said, gently.
+
+The next day Sanselme laid the poor woman in her grave. Then he said to
+the girl:
+
+"I knew your mother. Before she died she made me promise never to desert
+you. Will you come to me?"
+
+Jane Zeld was utterly crushed. She had no will of her own. Where else
+could she have gone? She felt herself surrounded by a circle of crime.
+As long as her mother lived, the affection she received from her made
+her forget sometimes the sinister truth. But when she was alone in the
+world, she felt absolutely crushed by this ignominy. Pure as she was it
+seemed to herself that her mind was smirched.
+
+Sanselme had come to a grave decision. He left Lyons and took Jane with
+him, she having no idea of the reason of his devotion. He called himself
+her intendant, and was anxious to perform the most menial offices, and
+in these felt as if he were in a measure making amends for the past. He
+had one aspiration, that of paternal martyrdom. Gently and with paternal
+affection Sanselme soothed the girl's shame and despair. He had
+preserved much of the persuasiveness of a priest, his language stirred
+and softened at one and the same time. But now every word that he
+uttered was sincere.
+
+Jane remained excessively sad.
+
+Sanselme had saved several thousand francs. What should he do with Jane?
+He had left Lyons, hoping that a change of scene would go far toward
+restoring cheerfulness to Jane. Vain hope. She never forgot her mother,
+nor that mother's life. She learned with marvelous rapidity. Study was
+her best distraction. From this Sanselme hoped much. He taught her
+himself all that he had formerly learned, and wondered at the progress
+she made.
+
+The merest accident revealed to him Jane's amazing talent for music. If
+Art should take hold of her and absorb her entirely, she would forget
+and enter a new life.
+
+She studied music thoroughly, and Sanselme took care, living as they
+were, in Germany at that time, that she should constantly hear good
+music.
+
+Her memory was prodigious, her voice exceptionally true, her taste
+perfect. Sanselme felt that here was safety for him.
+
+At the end of a few years Jane, now become a great artist, went with her
+benefactor to Paris.
+
+Their position toward each other was in no degree modified. He was very
+respectful in his manner, and always kept a certain distance between
+them. He did not wish her to know anything more about herself than that
+she was the daughter of the wretched Zelda.
+
+By degrees the recollection of Lyons seemed to fall from the mind of
+Jane. Never was there the most distant allusion ever made to her mother,
+and the girl never spoke of her.
+
+This silence astonished Sanselme, and troubled him as well. He had
+studied Jane so closely that he thoroughly understood her character, her
+goodness, unselfishness and passionate gratitude. He knew that she had
+not forgotten her mother, and would never do so, and that the reason she
+never mentioned her was because her pain and shame were quite as acute
+as ever. Jane's character was a singular mixture of audacity and
+timidity. It was her own proposition that she should offer her services
+at the concert, and when Sanselme proposed that she should go to
+Sabrau's, the artist, she had not hesitated in doing so.
+
+She sought to distract her mind, for she was haunted by a spectre. She
+had a ghastly fear that she might be tempted to lead the life her mother
+had led.
+
+The theatre, so often calumniated, would be her safeguard, and in her
+pride as a great artist she would forget the past. It was her
+salvation, her glory, and the path to fortune. She would be respected,
+honored and happy. These were the dreams in which Sanselme indulged.
+Perhaps, too, some honest man would give her his name, and that of Jane
+Zeld would be merged in a happy matron.
+
+It was with great joy that he took Jane to the reception at the
+artist's, and here basked in the admiration and respect she received. If
+she would but consent to go on the stage her fortune was secured--but
+hitherto she had refused even to listen to this plan.
+
+That evening Sanselme had been shocked to meet Benedetto. The spectre of
+his past again arose before him, but he thought it impossible that
+Benedetto should recognize him. He had been guilty of one imprudence.
+When he heard the name of the Vicomte of Monte-Cristo, he remembered the
+rage of Benedetto at Toulon, and how he had sworn to be avenged on him.
+
+A secret instinct warned Sanselme that Benedetto would wreak his
+vengeance on the son of his enemy, and concealed behind the curtain he
+had given Esperance the warning that had so startled him. Then he
+hurried away, aghast at what he had done. What was the young Vicomte to
+him? What did he care for Benedetto's hates?
+
+When the fire caught Jane's robe, he had been a witness of the energetic
+promptness shown by the young man, and then he said to himself that he
+was glad he gave the warning. And when they returned home that night,
+Sanselme had never been in better spirits; it seemed to him that a
+great Future was unfolding before him. To his surprise he found Jane
+weeping. For the first time she had spoken angrily, but Sanselme would
+have forgiven her if she had struck him.
+
+He saw that memory still haunted her, that there was no peace or rest
+for her. He wanted her to travel, but the money, where was he to get
+money? And it was while tortured by these thoughts that Benedetto
+appeared to him.
+
+And this was not all. Benedetto knew his secret, and now, as if all this
+were not enough, Jane herself had vanished. It was more than human
+energy could support.
+
+While Sanselme stood on the bridge absorbed in these wretched thoughts,
+he heard a quick, running step. His well-trained ear could not be
+deceived. It was a woman's step--if it were she? He started forward. It
+was dark, and he could see nothing, and the steps were dying away. He
+ran on toward the _Pont de Jena_, and presently he heard the steps
+again, and before him on the bridge was a dark shadow. Was it Jane?
+
+He called, "Jane, my child!"
+
+Then he saw the shadow spring to the parapet, and something black passed
+between him and the sky--the splash of water, and all was still.
+
+"Too late!" cried Sanselme, "but I will save her." And he in his turn
+leaped into the water. He was a vigorous swimmer, as will be remembered
+by our readers.
+
+When he rose to the surface after his plunge, he looked around, and at
+some distance beheld a dark spot. He swam toward it and seized the
+woman's arm. She was just sinking. And now this man was so overwhelmed
+with emotion, that the blood rushed to his brain and his limbs were
+almost paralyzed. Fortunately the shore was not far away, but the woman
+clung convulsively to him.
+
+He called for aid, but all was silent and dark. He knew that he was
+sinking, and that the end was near. Suddenly a voice shouted:
+
+"Courage! we are coming." And two men appeared swimming vigorously.
+
+"I have one, Bobichel!"
+
+"And I have another, Monsieur Fanfar."
+
+With their burthens our old friends reached the shore.
+
+"God grant that it is not too late!" said Fanfar, kneeling by the side
+of the two inanimate forms. "What had we best do?"
+
+"Take them up on our shoulders, sir, and carry them along. Fortunately,
+the house is not far off."
+
+And Bobichel threw Sanselme over his shoulder as easily as if he had
+been a bag of meal, while Fanfar took the woman. They stopped at a small
+house not far from the Quai; every blind was closed; Fanfar uttered a
+peculiar cry.
+
+"Is that you?" asked a woman's voice.
+
+"Myself," answered Fanfar.
+
+The door opened, and presently the two bodies were laid on the floor.
+
+Fanfar took a lamp and looked at them.
+
+"I saw this man at the door where we stood to-night," said Bobichel.
+
+"Yes, I saw him, too," answered Fanfar. "But who can this woman be?"
+
+She was an old woman, with white hair.
+
+"We must all go to work. Madame Fanfar, we want your help; hot linen and
+flannels, if you please!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LIV.
+
+CARMEN.
+
+
+Very stately and magnificent were the offices of the _Banque de Credit
+Imperial_. The prospectus made one's mouth water. It was a magnificent
+conception of the Emperor's. To interest small capitalists would
+naturally result in great popularity.
+
+Napoleon III. always felt a great interest in the money of other people,
+and also, to use a vulgar expression, liked to have his hand in
+everybody's pie.
+
+The governor elected was Monsieur de Laisangy, who was looked upon as a
+marvelous financier. Although an old man, his activity was immense, both
+of mind and body.
+
+It was about ten o'clock in the morning. In an exquisite room, where
+each detail was in the best of taste and very rich, Carmen, in a
+peignoir trimmed with lace, was half lying on a couch. Her beautiful
+hair was loosely tied, and fell over her shoulders in a golden cascade.
+
+She was a beautiful creature, and yet there was a certain refinement
+lacking. Her hands, though white, were not delicately made, and her
+foot, in its rose-colored slipper, was not as slender as those of
+Parisian women. She seemed to be wrapped in thought. Finally, as if
+weary of arguing with herself, she extended her hand and rang the bell.
+
+A pretty maid servant entered.
+
+"What o'clock is it?"
+
+"Half-past ten."
+
+"Send a footman to tell Monsieur de Laisangy that I am waiting for him
+to come to breakfast."
+
+"But are you not going to dress?" asked the woman in surprise.
+
+"What for? I am not going out until four o'clock."
+
+"Yes, but you will not care to go to the dining-room in your peignoir?"
+
+"No, I will breakfast here in my boudoir."
+
+"With Monsieur de Laisangy?"
+
+"Yes. You look astonished. I do not like such airs. Arrange that small
+table, and wait upon us yourself."
+
+"Very good, Mademoiselle."
+
+As the woman left the room, she said to herself:
+
+"They are certainly very queer people, but it is none of my business if
+a young lady chooses to breakfast half dressed with her father!"
+
+In less than fifteen minutes the banker knocked at the door of the
+boudoir. He took his daughter's hand and pressed a paternal kiss upon
+it. As they were alone, Carmen withdrew her hand, and said quickly:
+
+"None of that, if you please!"
+
+The old man looked strangely disturbed, and fearing that these words had
+been spoken in too audible a voice, he laid a warning finger on his lip.
+
+They presently seated themselves at the table. The breakfast was served
+_a la Russe_--that is, with every thing on the table at once.
+
+"You can leave us," said Carmen to her maid.
+
+Laisangy ate heartily, but Carmen merely nibbled. The banker did not
+speak until he had eaten so much he could eat no more. He drank only
+water.
+
+Carmen began to be impatient.
+
+"It seems to me that I was never so hungry in my life before!" said
+Laisangy.
+
+"Ah!" answered Carmen, "and yet there were times in your life when you
+were starving!"
+
+Laisangy was eating a bit of cheese. He stopped with his fork in the
+air.
+
+"We will not talk of that!" he replied.
+
+"And why not? Everybody is not born with a million in his cradle. I,
+too, have been near starvation!"
+
+"Carmen!"
+
+"It is true, but pray finish your breakfast. I want to talk to you."
+
+If Goutran, assisted by some magician, had been able to see and hear
+this interview, he would have been thunderstruck. What a tone! What an
+expression! Not that she was less pretty, but there was a something in
+her manner and appearance which would have offended his taste.
+
+Laisangy finally stopped eating. Any other person would have been
+crimson after such a meal, but he actually looked paler than ever.
+
+Carmen rang the bell for coffee, and then they were again alone.
+
+"My dear Carmen, I am ready to listen to you," said the banker. She had
+lighted a cigarette, and was smoking, with her eyes fixed on him.
+
+"You want money, I suppose?"
+
+"No--I want information."
+
+"Information!"
+
+"Ah! that makes you uneasy, does it not? I am well aware that you are
+not fond of questions."
+
+Laisangy, who was drinking his third cup of coffee, shivered a little at
+these words.
+
+"I do not understand you," he said.
+
+"You will, presently. But I never saw anybody with such an appetite.
+When I was sixteen and could hardly get a crust of bread, I could not
+eat like that."
+
+"Why dwell on these memories, Carmen?"
+
+"Because, if I remind you of what and who I am, I shall have a better
+chance, perhaps, to learn who you are."
+
+"Carmen! Carmen!" said the old man imploringly, and becoming even paler
+than before.
+
+"I tell you that I intend to know who you are. Now hold your tongue and
+let me speak. I have had a weight on my heart for a long time, and now I
+intend to make a clean breast of it."
+
+No words can describe the terror on the face of the banker. He stammered
+and choked.
+
+"But, Carmen, we are so comfortable and happy. What do you want more?"
+
+"I wish to have my curiosity satisfied," answered Carmen, coldly.
+"Everything about you is a mystery and a fraud. In fact, you terrify
+me!"
+
+"But----"
+
+"Yes--even your way of eating is not natural. There is something of the
+wild beast about you, and I tell you I am afraid!"
+
+"But this is childish. You have known me a long time."
+
+"Yes. I am twenty-two now, and I was fifteen when you took me, while
+Mamma Lousteau was your cook at Florence--"
+
+"Hush! Carmen, you will be heard!"
+
+"Who cares! Yes, the whole world may hear the story of a girl whose
+mother was cook in a banker's house. The banker entered the girl's room
+in the night, the mother discovered it. Her rage and distress brought on
+an attack of apoplexy. She died, and I remained with you! These are the
+bare facts."
+
+"Carmen!"
+
+"Oh! I am not complaining. You were rich, you gave me jewels and fine
+clothes. I was only sixteen, I forgot your brutality and I remained with
+you. When you came back to France you told me that a certain regard must
+be paid to appearances, that we must lie, in short, and I agreed to pass
+as your daughter. And now, I ask"--she folded her arms on her breast--"I
+ask why you did not marry me?"
+
+"Good heavens! because--"
+
+"Because what? You cannot give me a good reason. Not a word of truth can
+ever be torn from you. I am convinced that back of all these lies there
+is some horrible infamy which you dare not acknowledge even to me."
+
+"Carmen! no more of this, I implore you! What has gone wrong with you?"
+
+"Everything. I simply wish to know, and am resolved to know, who you
+are--if not--"
+
+"If not?"
+
+"I have not quite decided. There are some things, bad as I am, which I
+will not stand, and I will make it the business of my life to discover
+what crimes you have committed, and I will denounce you!"
+
+Laisangy started to his feet.
+
+"Look at yourself in the mirror," cried Carmen, "and tell me if you do
+not look like a murderer!"
+
+Laisangy bit his lips so fiercely that the blood started. Then suddenly,
+as if a thought had struck him, he cried:
+
+"Come now, Carmen, don't say any more nasty things to me. I am an old
+man and have had many troubles."
+
+"Indeed?"
+
+"You have never questioned me like this before. Even my appetite offends
+you. Surely, there is no crime in that! You want to know something about
+me. One thing I will tell you--it may strike you as rather a joke. Once
+in Italy, going from one city to another, I had a large sum of money
+with me, and I was taken by brigands. These villains took it into their
+heads to sell me every mouthful I ate at its weight in gold. For some
+time I would not yield, and was nearly starved. Since that time I have
+had paroxysms of violent hunger. Do you see?"
+
+Carmen did not see, and she said:
+
+"But why did not the brigands take your money without subjecting you to
+this torture?"
+
+Laisangy looked troubled as he replied:
+
+"I am sure I don't know."
+
+"It looks to me as if these men whom you call brigands were inflicting a
+chastisement upon you, perhaps."
+
+"Carmen!"
+
+"Come, throw down your cards. I tell you I will no longer submit to this
+miserable farce we are playing here. I will no longer call myself your
+daughter, nor will I be dragged into the maze of intrigues which I
+divine."
+
+"Carmen! once more I implore you--"
+
+"I will not be your accomplice and be dragged by you into an abyss of
+infamy!"
+
+"But why should you say such things? I am rich, and honored by the favor
+of the Emperor."
+
+"A fine recommendation, that!" cried Carmen, disdainfully.
+
+"I am respected and honored by every one."
+
+Carmen rose from her chair and looked the banker full in the face.
+
+"Then tell me why, when we were at the _soiree_ last evening, at a name
+pronounced by a lacquey you became ghastly pale."
+
+"You are mistaken--"
+
+"It is true; you fled as if you had seen a ghost, and the name was
+Monte-Cristo."
+
+Laisangy was terrible to look at.
+
+"Hold your tongue! Hold your tongue!" and the banker rushed toward her
+with uplifted hand.
+
+But Carmen, with her arms folded upon her breast, looked at him with
+such disdain that his arm fell at his side.
+
+"And this is not all," she continued. "You met many enemies last
+evening, it seems; for some one said in the garden, 'Take care that you
+do not learn my name too soon, Monsieur de Laisangy.' These may not be
+the precise words, but they are nearly so."
+
+"Ah! you are a spy, then! Look out!"
+
+"I am not in the least afraid of you; but let me tell you that your
+present conduct strengthens all my suspicions, and I, in my turn, bid
+you look out! I shall learn the truth, and then--"
+
+"And then--"
+
+"I shall leave you. But if, in self-defence, you raise a finger against
+one whom I esteem, I will denounce you!"
+
+Laisangy, exasperated beyond all self-control, seized a knife from the
+table. The door opened and the maid entered.
+
+"Here is a card which the gentleman wished me to hand you at once, sir."
+
+Carmen took the card and read the name.
+
+"Signor Fagiano!" she read aloud. "Ah! he has come to tell you his right
+name, I fancy!"
+
+Laisangy took the card from Carmen's hand and dashed from the room.
+Carmen said, half aloud:
+
+"Goutran is the friend of the Vicomte de Monte-Cristo. I will watch!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LV.
+
+THE BANKER.
+
+
+Signor Fagiano was standing, when Monsieur de Laisangy entered the room.
+He was a man of fifty, but extremely fine looking, with a little of the
+air of the Duc de Morny in his best days. He had, however, a scar across
+one cheek that disfigured him. No one would have recognized him as the
+convict Benedetto. Laisangy entered with a pale face of disdain.
+
+We must not omit to mention what took place in the garden the previous
+evening. When the banker, overcome by the heat of the rooms, took refuge
+in the fresh air, he had been followed by Fagiano, who said to him, when
+out of hearing of every one:
+
+"Monsieur de Laisangy, I know your past."
+
+Laisangy started, and even uttered an exclamation of surprise. The other
+continued--a threat in every word. He asked for money--much money.
+Laisangy knew that in his long career he had left many creditors in the
+lurch, and finally he said:
+
+"Who are you? Why should I give you money? What is your name?"
+
+To these questions the mysterious stranger replied:
+
+"Take care--you will know my name only too soon!"
+
+Since then Laisangy had been very uneasy. Possibly his conscience was
+not quite clear. He now came to see this Fagiano in a state of rage,
+exasperated by the scene with Carmen, and the favorite of the Emperor
+now came to measure weapons with this stranger.
+
+"Well, sir," said the banker, "this is the second time that you have
+seen fit to throw yourself in my path. Yesterday you addressed me in a
+fashion that savored of blackmail. What do you want? I do not know you,
+nor you me. I am a patient man, but even my patience has limits; and it
+may happen that I give my servants orders to throw you out of doors,
+neck and heels!"
+
+The other, leaning with one elbow on the mantel, laughed aloud as he
+said:
+
+"Ring, if you choose, my good fellow. There will then be a nice
+scandal!"
+
+The banker's hand, even then on the bell, dropped at his side.
+
+"Ah! I see you do not care for witnesses!"
+
+Laisangy opened his lips to speak.
+
+"And you are right, perhaps. Napoleon, who knew the world, said, 'It is
+always best to wash your dirty linen at home!' and we have--you and I--a
+tremendous wash on hand!"
+
+Laisangy did not move; his eyes were fixed on the face of this man, to
+whom he could not give a name. He finally managed to say:
+
+"I am not fond of mysteries. Who are you?"
+
+"You do not know me, then?"
+
+Fagiano laughed, and in this laugh was a certain ferocity.
+
+"Give me two hundred thousand francs and you will never see me again!"
+
+Laisangy answered with a certain dignity:
+
+"I never give alms to strangers."
+
+"Bless my soul!" cried Fagiano, "your manners are improving. You do not
+know my name, but I know yours, Monsieur Danglars!"
+
+At this name the banker started back.
+
+"You are mad!" he cried.
+
+"Very well; but what would you say if at the Tuileries you heard
+yourself announced by your real name, Monsieur Danglars?"
+
+Danglars, for it was he, drew a pistol from his pocket and presented it
+to Fagiano's breast. He with a quick blow struck it from the banker's
+hand. It fell on the floor and fortunately did not go off. Fagiano
+picked it up and drew the charge.
+
+"Dangerous playthings and sad interruptions in a conversation," he said.
+"We can understand each other without this. And now, having gotten
+through with this melodramatic scene, I tell you that I shall not be
+content with less than five hundred thousand francs."
+
+Danglars was utterly confounded. But presently, gathering himself
+together, he said:
+
+"I am not intimidated by your threats. You can make what use you please
+of your knowledge, you share it with many others. No one cares."
+
+"But I have more to say. I propose to reveal my own name to you. Can I
+so change that you do not recognize me?"
+
+"I never saw you before."
+
+"How does it happen, Monsieur Danglars, that you have a daughter of
+twenty when your wife was living fifteen years since? She had a daughter
+by you, and her name was not Carmen."
+
+Danglars was disconcerted. He threw himself upon a chair.
+
+"Go on," he said.
+
+"Ah! you are beginning to understand me, are you? I know what I say, and
+will prove it to you. You, as a banker, enriched yourself in
+speculations, each more dishonorable than the other, and you encountered
+a man who crushed you like a worm under his heel. You fell, but you are
+of the kind that bounds, and to-day you are once more upon a pinnacle.
+You vegetated for years, until the moment came when you could once more
+seize fortune in your grasp. You are no longer Danglars the bankrupt and
+thief--you are Laisangy, respected and trusted. Know then that I have it
+in my power to throw you back into the mire from which you have
+struggled. I am ready to be your enemy or your accomplice, the choice is
+in your hands."
+
+"Ah! I know you!" cried Danglars, throwing up his hands. "You are Andrea
+Cavalcanti. Yes, it is all coming back to me. You called yourself by a
+title to which you had no claim; you professed to have a fortune that
+had no existence, and you introduced yourself into my family. But the
+day came when the law interfered!"
+
+"Ah! your memory is an excellent one!" Then relinquishing his sneer and
+his smile, he leaned toward Danglars. "I am Benedetto, the assassin;
+Benedetto, the convict. But that is not all. Are you acquainted with my
+father's name?"
+
+"I heard of a scandalous suit, but I was not in France."
+
+"No, you had fled. You were not here when, in the court-room, I flung my
+hatred and my loathing at the head of the Procureur du Roi--at the head
+of my father, Monsieur de Villefort. And do you know the name of my
+mother?"
+
+"It was never given."
+
+"I will tell it to you, nevertheless. She was Madame Danglars."
+
+The banker started to his feet, his whole frame twitching nervously.
+
+"It is not true! It is not true!" he cried.
+
+"She was my mother, I tell you, and I punished her as she deserved, for
+I killed her!"
+
+"Horrible! Horrible!" And the wretched man who listened to these words
+wrung his hands.
+
+"Yes, and here is the proof."
+
+Benedetto drew from his pocketbook the paper on which Sanselme had
+written the lines he had dictated.
+
+"Read this," he said. "I was not alone; the witness is still living, and
+I can produce him if necessary."
+
+Danglars had fallen back in his chair.
+
+"Now then," continued Benedetto, "you know who I am, and you know, too,
+that I hesitate at nothing. Once more, will you obey me?"
+
+"But what do you wish me to do?"
+
+"In the first place, I want money. I am tired of poverty, and of the
+incessant perils which it forces me to run. You are rich. Make me rich."
+
+"You shall have money."
+
+"And much money. But this is not all."
+
+Benedetto laid his hand on the shoulder of his companion.
+
+"Have you forgotten," he said, in a stern voice, "the man who humiliated
+and tortured you? Do you feel no thirst for revenge?"
+
+Danglars looked up quickly.
+
+"That man," continued Benedetto, "was and is your evil genius, as well
+as mine. He tempted me. He launched me into a world where all my
+appetite for luxury was developed, then suddenly he sent me to a prison.
+You remember all the tortures he inflicted on you. Now it is in our
+power to heap on this man a vengeance so terrible that he will writhe at
+our feet. This vengeance I mean to have. Danglars, do you wish to see
+this man suffer? Then give me your hand, and we will work together."
+
+Danglars murmured:
+
+"It is impossible. Vengeance is sweet, but it can not be."
+
+"Impossible!" sneered Benedetto. "We two will succeed, I swear to you."
+
+"No, no, I am afraid of him!"
+
+"Are you a child? Once more, Danglars, do you wish to be revenged on
+Monte-Cristo, if I can prove to you that you personally run no risk? I
+too am afraid of him. I too have thought for a long time that he was
+all-powerful and not to be reached. To-day I have discovered a fault in
+his armor, and intend that this man shall weep tears of blood. Once
+more, will you assist me?"
+
+"Ah! if it were possible!" sighed Danglars.
+
+"Listen to me a moment. This man has one immense passion, his love for
+his son, and it is through this love that we shall reach him. The Count
+of Monte-Cristo is invincible, you say. You forget that he has a son."
+
+"The Vicomte Esperance!"
+
+"To strike the son is to kill the father!"
+
+"You are right--and I, like you, hate him!"
+
+"Then join me, and we shall have a terrible revenge. I must have money,
+though, and you must swear to obey me blindly."
+
+"And you say that we will crush Monte-Cristo?"
+
+"I swear it!"
+
+"Then," said Danglars, "I join you, for I hate him!"
+
+And the two men shook hands in ratification of their oath.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LVI.
+
+ESPERANCE, MONTE-CRISTO'S SON.
+
+
+Now let us go back to Esperance. Three days have elapsed since Jane was
+borne into the hotel on the Champs-Elysees.
+
+We find Madame Caraman deep in a conference with the person on whom she
+has more reliance than on any one else in the world, none other than
+herself! The good woman was lying on a sofa, listening to every sound
+which came from the room where Jane lay utterly prostrated.
+
+"I don't know," said the old lady half aloud, "whether I am doing right
+or not. The Count begged me to look out for his son, and I have tried to
+do this. I have now accepted a new duty from the Vicomte, and for three
+days and nights I have been watching over this poor young girl. This is
+all very well. The Vicomte has requested me to keep the affair secret,
+even from his father, and I have consented. Here I am not sure that I
+have done wisely. The Count said: 'If you have any especial
+communication to make to me, you may go to Monsieur Fanfar.' That is
+clear enough. But if I obey the father I disobey the son!"
+
+All these arguments failed to satisfy the good woman of the excellence
+of her cause, for she shook her head several times. She heard a long
+sigh, and ran to Jane's bed. The girl's face looked like wax, her
+eyelids had a brownish tinge. Her lips were parted with the sigh that
+her nurse had heard.
+
+Poor Jane! Was she on the road to recovery? Alas! the physicians did not
+yet answer for her life. Goutran had, at the request of Esperance,
+brought two men of great science, but they agreed that the girl was in
+great danger.
+
+When Madame leaned over her to give her the medicine, Jane seemed to be
+terribly frightened. The color rushed to her cheeks, and she panted for
+breath.
+
+Suddenly her eyes opened wide, and she cried aloud:
+
+"Ah! let me die--let me die!"
+
+"My poor, dear child!" said Madame Caraman, kissing her tenderly on her
+brow, "you must not say that! Try to be calm and good."
+
+But Jane did not listen to her. She seemed to be haunted by some
+terrible spectre. Delirium has some astonishing resurrections. She
+struggled so fiercely in the arms of her nurse that Madame, who had been
+told to summon Esperance at any moment, leaned forward and touched a
+bell.
+
+In a moment the Vicomte appeared. Oh! how pale and hollow-eyed he was!
+As he entered, Jane fell back among her pillows, covering her face with
+her hands.
+
+"What is it?" asked Esperance.
+
+"Only a little more fever, sir, but I feared an accident, and called
+you."
+
+"You did right, and I thank you."
+
+He took the girl's hands gently in his. At his touch tears sprang to
+Jane's closed eyes, and a little shiver passed over her whole body.
+
+"She is calmer now," said Madame, "and I am almost sorry that I have
+disturbed you."
+
+"No--I am very glad you did. You must be very weary. Lie down, and I
+will stay here until dawn."
+
+"No--I am old, I do not require much sleep, while you----"
+
+Esperance sat on the foot of the bed, holding Jane's slender hands.
+
+"Do you think," he said gently, "that I can sleep while she is
+suffering? Go, I beg of you--I will call you soon."
+
+Madame still resisted a little, perhaps for form's sake, but finally
+obeyed his wishes. The young man then sank on his knees, still holding
+Jane's hands.
+
+They remained thus, silent and motionless. From the touch of the
+Vicomte's hand Jane seemed to experience profound relief. Is it not
+certain that between two persons a certain magnetic communication may
+take place--an electric fluid may pass from one to the other, making the
+two momentarily one?
+
+Esperance bowed his head and pressed his lips on Jane's hand. Then the
+young girl opened her eyes. The fever was gone. Her glorious eyes had
+regained all their softness, and her pulse beat more regularly.
+
+"Jane! Jane!" whispered the young man. It seemed to him that he felt a
+gentle pressure of her fingers. "You hear me?" he said. "Will you allow
+me to remain near you? If you only knew how much I suffer in seeing
+your sufferings, and how gladly I would spare you a pang!" Again the
+little quivering pressure.
+
+"When I saw you the other night it did not seem to me that it was the
+first time. I felt as if I had seen you in my dreams. Jane, why did you
+wish to die?"
+
+Was she listening? Did she hear him? A delicious torpor had taken
+possession of the girl. She thought she was dreaming, and was afraid to
+move lest she should awaken. The past seemed far away.
+
+He continued:
+
+"Jane, before I saw you I did not live. I was always sad. What did it
+matter to me the luxury with which I was surrounded? I have always felt
+singularly alone, my life was incomplete. But now I feel as if it were
+well rounded. You have suffered, but now all that is over. You will tell
+me all, because we are to have no secrets from each other. We will leave
+Paris, and find some quiet retreat together."
+
+She did not speak, but from under her half-closed eyes a tear stole down
+her cheek. Esperance kissed the tear away. She smiled faintly, and then
+fell into a sweet sleep. Seeing this, Esperance rose and softly left the
+room.
+
+In the ante-room Madame Caraman lay asleep on the sofa. Esperance
+smiled, but as he knew that Jane was safe, he did not arouse her nurse.
+
+He went to his room. Hardly had the sound of his footsteps died away
+than the portiere is lifted in yonder corner, and a dark form appears.
+It was a man. His face was hidden by a black vail. In his hand was a
+white handkerchief and a glass bottle. He stole to the bed so softly
+that not a sound was heard.
+
+Who is this man? It was thus that Monte-Cristo once entered the room of
+Valentine de Villefort. But this was not Monte-Cristo. As he reached the
+bed he extended his arm and held to the girl's face the handkerchief,
+from which exhaled a blue vapor.
+
+Jane was breathing naturally. Suddenly her whole form quivered, then
+came immobility. Her limbs straighten, the rose fades from her cheek,
+her brow becomes like marble. The man lifted the inert form in his arms,
+and slowly, with infinite precautions, he moved toward the portiere,
+which he pushes aside and disappears.
+
+Ah! Madame Caraman, ah! Esperance, you little know what is going on!
+
+This man is Benedetto. His revenge has begun!
+
+And in that empty room there is now no other sound than the ticking of
+the clock.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LVII.
+
+THEY MUST BE SAVED!
+
+
+My readers have not forgotten the romantic episode that followed Jane's
+suicide. How happened it that our old friends Fanfar and Bobichel were
+near and able to save the life of Sanselme?
+
+It is a very simple matter. Monte-Cristo had said to Fanfar, "I trust my
+son to you. You love me, love him, also. Be to him what you have been to
+me."
+
+"Rely on me," Fanfar said, and Monte-Cristo went away, confiding in
+himself, in everything, and still more in the strange fatality which had
+always served him.
+
+Fanfar kept his word. He watched everything that Esperance did. He had
+been told, also, not to permit this surveillance to be suspected unless
+some real danger made it necessary to disclose it.
+
+The evening that Esperance went to Goutran's, Fanfar, accompanied by the
+inseparable Bobichel, had seen the young man enter his friend's house,
+he had seen him place Jane in the carriage, and finally had watched him
+walk away with Goutran.
+
+Could there be anything more reassuring? Fanfar thought not, and in a
+state of perfect satisfaction they walked along the left shore of the
+Seine, where Fanfar had a little house in the Rue Bellechasse.
+
+They were talking earnestly, when they heard loud cries for aid. They
+instantly plunged into the river and swam in the direction of the cries.
+
+They were successful in their efforts, and saved the lives of both the
+man and the woman. Sanselme, however, had a brain fever, and the woman,
+Fanfar discovered, was insane. With her it was a passing delirium.
+Fanfar was greatly puzzled to know what to do with her. Who was she?
+Whence came she? There was nothing about her person which would
+elucidate the mystery. It was possible that she had escaped from some
+hospital, and Fanfar went to the Prefecture to make inquiries, but no
+such disappearance was registered there.
+
+Fanfar naturally felt that there must be some connection between these
+two persons. Some frightful tragedy had been enacted. But he also felt
+that absolute secrecy was due the two unfortunates, till at last it was
+plain that there was no danger in revealing the adventure.
+
+Days elapsed. Sanselme had terrible attacks of frenzy, and the woman,
+when she was able to move, had risen from her bed and gone to the door
+of her room, where she stood with terror and anguish imprinted on every
+feature, and if any one entered the room she would press both hands on
+her breast and utter a terrible shriek.
+
+Finally Fanfar's wife had called him to see a scar on the breast of the
+unfortunate creature. She had certainly received a terrible wound, but
+when and where? The scar was not a new one.
+
+Fanfar had sent Bobichel to the Vicomte's, for he had reproached himself
+that he had neglected Esperance in his interest for these two strangers.
+He sat near Sanselme's bed, and in the next room the mad woman was
+asleep, crouching on the floor near the door.
+
+Fanfar looked at the man before him, and his unerring instinct told him
+that this livid, worn face had known not only great sorrow, but terrible
+remorse.
+
+Sanselme said something. Fanfar leaned over him to hear more distinctly.
+
+"My daughter; dead! dead!"
+
+And these words were repeated over and over again. What did this mean?
+The woman Sanselme had saved was older than he; she could not be his
+daughter.
+
+Fanfar said in distinct but soothing tones, "You have a daughter? You
+have lost her?"
+
+"Yes, my Jane!"
+
+Sanselme flung himself from one side of the bed to the other in intense
+agony, and Fanfar asked question after question. He could not tear from
+the man the smallest information.
+
+Having taken a sedative the sick man fell asleep, but it was plain that
+his dreams were troubled. Fanfar took up a book, when he heard the
+door-bell, and Bobichel suddenly appeared all out of breath. He dropped
+on a chair, and seemed to be in great trouble.
+
+"What is the matter?" asked Fanfar.
+
+"Oh! such a dreadful thing has happened to Monte-Cristo's son!"
+
+"To the Vicomte!" cried Fanfar, leaping from his chair. He seized
+Bobichel's arm rather roughly, and shaking it, cried, "Will you speak?"
+
+"Yes, master, but I don't know how to tell you that the Vicomte has gone
+away."
+
+"Gone away, and what of that?"
+
+"But he has disappeared!"
+
+"Who says so?"
+
+"Old Madame Caraman and Coucon."
+
+Fanfar passed his hand over his troubled brow. "My dear old friend," he
+said, "take pity on me, and tell me all you know; do not compel me to
+ask so many questions."
+
+"Well, then, listen. You as well as I, became a little anxious because
+we had heard nothing of Monsieur Esperance for so long. I have found out
+that the night of the _soiree_, while we were saving those two old
+people in there, he was also doing something of the same kind."
+
+"Did he not go home then, as we supposed?"
+
+"Not he! He did not go home for over two hours, then he and Monsieur
+Goutran had a person with them who had been wounded--a young girl--she
+had been shot!"
+
+"What preposterous tale is this?"
+
+"It is true, sir. I did not believe it myself, at first, and as I felt
+sure you would doubt the story, I took the liberty of bringing the
+witnesses with me. Caraman and Coucon are here, sir."
+
+"Oh! Bobichel, why could you not have said this before? Let me see them
+at once, and I swear that I will get at the truth!"
+
+Fanfar, in addition to his impatience, felt a certain remorse. If any
+accident happened to Esperance he felt in a measure responsible.
+
+Caraman and Coucon came in. They were in great trouble.
+
+"My good friends," said Fanfar, taking Madame's hand. She was sobbing
+fit to break her heart, while Coucon was gnawing the ends of his
+moustache, in order not to imitate her example. "My good friends, I do
+not yet believe that what Bobichel tells me is true. He says that the
+Vicomte has disappeared."
+
+"Yes, sir," growled Coucon.
+
+"Then, Madame Caraman, this is no time for tears. Tears remedy nothing,
+and we must have all our wits about us."
+
+Madame held out her arms to Fanfar, as she fell on her knees before him.
+
+"I am the one in fault, and I shall never forgive myself."
+
+"Pray tell me the whole."
+
+"I have broken all my promises in not sending to you before, and yet all
+the time I had a presentiment of evil."
+
+She wept and sobbed to such a degree that Fanfar could scarcely
+understand her, but he finally managed to soothe her. She had little to
+explain, however. She told how Esperance and Goutran had come in late at
+night, and brought with them a young girl who had been wounded by a
+pistol shot, and who seemed to be dying. How she herself had watched
+over this girl night and day. She told how, in obedience to the
+Vicomte, she had gone to lie down, being very weary and sleepy.
+
+"I can't say how it happened," she sighed. "I had been greatly fatigued.
+I only meant to rest, not to sleep, but when I opened my eyes it was
+broad daylight. I jumped up, and ran to the door and listened, but all
+was silent; then I stole to the bed, I thought she was asleep, of
+course. Suddenly it occurred to me that the silence was too profound. I
+tore open the curtain, the bed was empty. At first I thought the girl
+might have been carried to some other room, she was too weak to walk,
+you understand, and perhaps Coucon had helped, so I went to him and he
+rubbed his eyes and yawned."
+
+"Madame Caraman!" exclaimed Coucon.
+
+"Yes, you did, and were as stupid as possible. At all events, he had
+heard nothing, seen nothing. Then I took it into my head that the
+Vicomte had taken her away. And--and--I can't tell you what I thought,
+but did not like to go to the Vicomte. I knew if she was in his room,
+that he would not like any one to know it. This was an infamous thought
+on my part, for she is a good girl, I am sure."
+
+"Pray, go on with your story, my dear lady," said Fanfar, with a shade
+of impatience. "We are losing a great deal of precious time."
+
+"You are right! Well, I finally decided to go to the Vicomte's door. He
+was sitting at the table studying some books on medicine, and I told
+him. Oh! how sorry I was for him. I had no idea that he would care, but
+he became deadly pale, and thrusting me aside, a little rudely I must
+confess, he ran to the room I had just left, and when he found I had
+told him the simple truth he went nearly crazy. Even if, as I first
+thought might be the case, the girl had an attack of delirium, she could
+not have opened the window, besides it was fastened inside. The doors
+were all bolted too. I did not know what to think. Monsieur Esperance
+was in such a rage that I don't like to think of him. But after all he
+was right, I had no business to sleep in that way."
+
+"Go on; tell me about Esperance. When did he go away?"
+
+"We have not seen him since last evening. He put his hat on his head,
+and went out without saying a word to us."
+
+Fanfar reflected.
+
+"You have no idea where he went?"
+
+"Not the slightest. Oh! what will the Count say to us!"
+
+"You have been very imprudent, but there is no use in recriminations. We
+must look for Esperance at once. Do you know how the girl was wounded?"
+
+"No, but Monsieur Goutran does."
+
+"I will go to him immediately."
+
+"Oh! we have been there, and he has gone away for the day. Here is a
+little bag which we found in the young lady's room, and it may tell you
+something."
+
+And Madame, as she spoke, handed Fanfar one of those little morocco bags
+so much in vogue to be hung at the belt. Fanfar opened the bag, and
+found a letter without address.
+
+"We must look at this," he said.
+
+The letter was only a few lines of thanks written to the young girl by
+Goutran, when she consented to sing at his _soiree_. The note began with
+the words "Miss Jane!"
+
+"Miss Jane!" cried Fanfar, a sudden recollection flashing over him.
+
+To this cry there was a response. The door opened, and Sanselme tottered
+in.
+
+"Jane! Jane! Did you say Jane?"
+
+Fanfar ran to his assistance.
+
+"Don't trouble yourself about me," cried Sanselme. "Tell me, did I hear
+you speak the name of Jane?"
+
+"That is certainly the name on this note," answered Fanfar, extending
+the paper in his hand, which Sanselme snatched from him.
+
+"Yes, it is hers. It is my dau--" He stopped even in his delirium he had
+strength to conceal his secret. "It is Jane's," he added.
+
+"Then you know this girl?" Fanfar asked, excitedly.
+
+"Do I know her? Was it not she who wished to die? Was it not she whom I
+rescued?"
+
+"No, calm yourself. You are mistaken. You must try and tell me what I
+wish to know. Terrible dangers threaten those whom perhaps we both
+love."
+
+"Is Jane in danger?" asked Sanselme, frantically. "Let me go! I must
+leave this place at once."
+
+He started from his chair, but his strength failed him, and if Fanfar
+had not caught him he would have fallen.
+
+"Ah!" he half sobbed, "I might have known it! That wretch Benedetto is
+always a signal of misfortune to me."
+
+"Who speaks of Benedetto!" said a hoarse voice.
+
+Every one started. Before them stood the mad woman in torn and shabby
+garments, with her white hair in disorder. And as Sanselme looked up he
+saw her. A terrible cry escaped from his lips, and he recoiled with
+staring eyes riveted on the spectre before him.
+
+"It is she!" he murmured. "The dead, it seems, are permitted to revisit
+the earth!"
+
+The woman slowly approached Sanselme, and looked at him closely. She
+came so near that she could touch him, and then with a wild laugh, she
+screamed:
+
+"The convict! Yes, it is he!"
+
+And then, shuddering from head to foot, she repeated, "Benedetto! Who
+speaks of Benedetto?"
+
+"What does all this mean?" asked Fanfar.
+
+"I will tell you," said Sanselme, averting his eyes. "Yes, it is true, I
+am an escaped convict. This woman is right, but I never did her any
+harm. Look at me, woman! Tell me, was it I who struck you?"
+
+The mad woman tore away the rags that covered the terrible scar on her
+breast.
+
+"Oh! how it hurts," she said, moaning, "and how hot my head is."
+
+"But who did it?"
+
+The woman in a frightened whisper, answered:
+
+"It was Benedetto--my son!"
+
+A cry of horror escaped from every heart.
+
+"Yes," exclaimed Sanselme, "and the wretch still lives. He assassinated
+his mother, and by what miracle she escaped, I know not. He--this
+Benedetto--is to-day in Paris. He has come to avenge himself on
+Monte-Cristo."
+
+Fanfar questioned Sanselme, who avowed everything except that Jane was
+his daughter. He would not have admitted this had he been threatened
+with the guillotine. Fanfar listened attentively.
+
+"It is as clear as day to me," he said, at last, "that all this is
+Benedetto's work. Therefore we will first find him, and of him we will
+demand an account of this new crime. Sanselme, you have been a great
+criminal. Are you ready to prove your repentance?"
+
+"I will obey you in whatsoever you order. Save Jane, no matter what
+becomes of me."
+
+"Then all of you will make ready for the fray. I will summon the Count
+of Monte-Cristo, as it was agreed I should do in case of danger. He will
+be here in three days, and we must be able to say to him that we have
+saved his son."
+
+"Yes, we must say that," cried the Zouave, "or Coucon will be dead."
+
+"To work then," said Fanfar, rising. "Sanselme, come into my cabinet,
+there are several questions I wish to ask. But first, who is this
+woman?"
+
+"Benedetto never told me," answered Sanselme.
+
+Fanfar went to the mad woman, who was crouching near the door.
+
+"Who are you?" he said. "What is your name?"
+
+She laughed in a stupid way.
+
+"I have no name, I am dead!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LVIII.
+
+GOUTRAN AND CARMEN.
+
+
+Goutran was really in love, although for a time his attention had been
+distracted by the strange affair of Jane Zeld. But now that calm was in
+a measure restored, Goutran thought of Carmen with quickened pulse. He
+no longer hesitated. He resolved to write to a millionaire uncle of his
+who spent his last days hunting wolves in the Ardennes, and beg him to
+come up and lay his proposal before the banker. He told Esperance what
+he meant to do, and the Vicomte encouraged the plan.
+
+When he had come to this conclusion, he was astonished to find that the
+same indecision again attacked him. Why did he hesitate? He would have
+been at a loss to say. He determined, however, on one of two things,
+either to ask Carmen's hand or never see her again. He had been with
+Esperance for forty-eight hours, encouraging him and ministering to
+Jane, and now he felt the need of fresh air. He walked toward Saint
+Cloud, softly saying to himself among the green trees:
+
+"I love her! I love her!"
+
+On his return the decision was made. He would write to his uncle the
+next day. As he entered the hotel, the concierge said to him
+mysteriously:
+
+"There was a lady here, sir."
+
+"A lady! What lady?"
+
+"Ah! sir, that I can't say. My discretion was too great to permit me to
+ask her name. I think she is young and pretty, though she was heavily
+vailed. She asked for you, and when I told her you were out she looked
+embarrassed, and finally drew from her pocket a little note which she
+had prepared. She gave it to me, saying it was very urgent."
+
+"A note! Where is it? You should have given it to me at once."
+
+"Oh! it is safe, sir, in my davenport."
+
+A concierge with a davenport! What is the world coming to, thought
+Goutran.
+
+Finally the good man produced the paper in question, rose colored and
+perfumed. Goutran tore it open, but did not read it until he reached his
+own room. The address was in delicate, long letters, the result of
+lessons from an English master. Who could have sent it? He did not know
+the writing. But when he glanced at the signature he with difficulty
+refrained from a cry of surprise. The note was signed, "Carmen de
+L----." These were its contents:
+
+
+  "MONSIEUR GOUTRAN--or will you allow me to call you my friend--I must
+  see you at once on matters of vast importance. To-night, at eleven
+  o'clock, I shall expect you. Ring at the side door of the hotel; my
+  maid will be in attendance. Do not fail, for you and those you love
+  are in danger."
+
+
+Goutran was amazed. What did these mysterious lines mean? And of whom
+did Carmen speak when she said "those you love"? He was greatly
+disturbed, but he was not the man to hesitate.
+
+At ten o'clock he was already walking up and down a street which
+commanded a view of the Hotel Laisangy, but he felt none of the emotion
+natural to a lover going to a rendezvous. He had a feeling of strange
+oppression. Finally the clock struck eleven. The side door was on the
+Rue Saint Honore. Goutran was about to ring the bell, when the door was
+opened and a hand was laid on his.
+
+"Come this way," said a woman's voice.
+
+It was the curious maid whom we have already seen. She was enchanted,
+feeling sure that it was a lover she admitted. The stairs were carpeted
+and dimly lighted. Presently he entered Carmen's boudoir, but she was
+not there.
+
+"I will notify the young lady," said the maid, with one of those knowing
+smiles that tell so much.
+
+Goutran was standing with his hat in his hand when Carmen entered. She
+was very simply dressed in black. Her beautiful face was very pale. Her
+blonde hair looked like burnished gold. She extended her hand as he
+advanced with a profound bow.
+
+"Many thanks," she said, "for having come. I hardly dared expect you."
+
+"Why did you doubt me? Did you suppose that I could be deaf to such a
+mark of confidence?"
+
+Carmen smiled sadly.
+
+"Yes," she said, "I do feel entire confidence in you, a confidence that
+is most real."
+
+She seated herself and motioned him to a chair, and with her large eyes
+fixed on her companion, was silent for a minute. At last she said,
+abruptly:
+
+"Monsieur Goutran, do you love me?"
+
+At this most unexpected question, Goutran started.
+
+"Yes," he answered, gravely. "I love you, and I feel a devotion for you
+which is, perhaps, better than love."
+
+Carmen's long lashes rested on her burning cheeks.
+
+"Your words are sweeter to me than you can well imagine. By and by you
+will understand me better. I need your affection, and I need your
+assistance, but I am about to put your interest in me to a very severe
+test."
+
+"You have but to express your wishes," said Goutran.
+
+Carmen waited. Evidently she had not strength to go on with her
+explanation.
+
+"Listen to me," she resumed. "I owe you a declaration which will remove
+every possibility of a misunderstanding between us. A few days ago, when
+on the terrace of your house my hands rested in yours, I fully realized
+that, so far as you were concerned, a tacit engagement from that moment
+existed between us."
+
+"From that moment," interrupted Goutran, "I felt that if you would
+accept my hand and name----"
+
+"And yet you did not apply to Monsieur Laisangy?" said Carmen, gently.
+
+"Did you doubt me? I did not dare."
+
+"And you were right, for, Monsieur Goutran, I can never be your wife!"
+
+Goutran rose quickly.
+
+"Was it to break my heart that you summoned me here to-night?" he cried.
+
+"I can never be your wife," repeated Carmen, "because only an unstained
+woman should bear your name!"
+
+Goutran turned deadly pale.
+
+"And I," she continued, "am not such a woman!"
+
+"Ah! Mademoiselle, I cannot understand you."
+
+"Listen to me. Every word I speak I have thoroughly weighed, and I
+understand my duty. I hope my frankness will at least win your esteem,
+and possibly your pity."
+
+"My pity! Ah! Carmen, for God's sake do not say such things!"
+
+"I have not finished. Goutran, I love you, deeply and sincerely. Your
+character, your talents, all inspire me, for the first time in my life,
+with those sentiments which tend to elevate us. Before knowing you I
+passed through life knowing little, and caring little, of what was right
+or what was wrong."
+
+Tears were now pouring down her cheeks.
+
+"I am not the daughter," she sobbed, "I am not the daughter, I am the
+friend, of Monsieur de Laisangy!"
+
+A pained exclamation broke from Goutran's breast, and he hid his face in
+his hands. He felt as if a dagger had struck him in the heart.
+
+"Yes," continued Carmen, with a smile of contempt, "this old man, for
+reasons of his own, insisted on my bearing his name. Do not condemn me
+too greatly," she continued, "I was not sixteen when I fell into the
+trap that this man laid for me. Think of it!"
+
+"The miserable scoundrel!"
+
+"Yes, he ruined me, body and soul! All the finer instincts of my nature
+he sneered at. He taught me to despise everything--himself, myself! For
+five long years I endured this martyrdom. When we reached Paris, he
+added another wrong to those he had already inflicted on me. He
+compelled me to profane the sacred name of father, and yet I did not
+realize my shame until the day I met you. I sat to you for my portrait,
+and as you talked I felt a whole new world opening before me. I knew
+then, for the first time, that I was unworthy of the love of an honest
+man. Ah! Goutran, how I have suffered in loving you!"
+
+And the poor girl sank on her knees, a very Magdalen.
+
+Goutran laid his hand on her head.
+
+"Carmen, these avowals prove to me that I was not wrong in thinking you
+the best and the most adorable woman in the world!"
+
+"You do not loathe me, then?"
+
+"Have I any right to be your judge? I have certainly received a sad
+shock."
+
+He lifted her to a chair.
+
+"If you have made me this terrible confidence it is because you wish to
+give me a proof of your great confidence in me. I shall be worthy of
+it, be sure of that. And now, tell me what you wish."
+
+Carmen lifted her sad eyes to his.
+
+"How good you are!" she said, quietly. "But you are right. Now you will
+not doubt my motives nor me?"
+
+"I swear that I will believe every syllable you utter!"
+
+Carmen, after a few moments' consideration, said:
+
+"You are very fond of this young Monte-Cristo?"
+
+"Certainly I am. He is one of the noblest fellows I ever met. But why do
+you speak of him?"
+
+"Because it was to speak of him that I summoned you here to-night. Your
+friend, Goutran, is in great danger, as are you--and myself, too."
+
+"Danger!"
+
+"We must find some means of avoiding it, but your enemies----"
+
+"I have no enemies!"
+
+"Yes, and Monsieur de Laisangy is one of them."
+
+"That scoundrel!"
+
+"Yes, and he is worse than I supposed, and the other foe is--but did you
+notice an Italian here, the secretary of the Italian Count?"
+
+"Yes--his name was Fagiano."
+
+"He calls himself Fagiano, but that is not his real name."
+
+"Who is he, then?"
+
+"I cannot say. But listen. For some time I have hated and loathed
+Laisangy. I felt that he was a greater criminal towards others than
+myself, and as my conscience began to stir, I felt my suspicions daily
+increase. At your _soiree_ I noticed that this man whom I called father
+started and turned pale when he heard the name of Monte-Cristo, and then
+he invented some pretext to leave the room."
+
+"I remember," said Goutran.
+
+"Then, when we were on the terrace--" Carmen hesitated. There were
+memories connected with that terrace which she did not care to approach.
+
+Goutran said, kindly:
+
+"Go on, dear child."
+
+"I do not know if you remember as well as myself a dispute which we, in
+a measure, overheard. I recognized Laisangy's voice, and the
+disconnected words confirmed my suspicions. Early the next morning I
+sent for him and questioned him very closely, and in a most peremptory
+manner. In the midst of our animated discussion a card was brought in.
+This Signor Fagiano had called to see Monsieur de Laisangy.
+
+"I heard no more of him, saw no more of him, until yesterday, when, as I
+entered the hotel, I saw Fagiano coming in. I at once ran into
+Laisangy's private office, and reached it first, where I hid in a
+closet, ready to listen to every word. Do not reprove me. All means are
+lawful when dangers threaten those you love, and some instinct taught me
+that I should learn something of you and the Vicomte."
+
+Goutran kissed Carmen's hand as his sole reply.
+
+"The two men came in a moment or two, and I at once learned from the
+first words they uttered that they were associates in some crime. What
+it is I know not, but Fagiano said:
+
+"'I have done it, and now our vengeance is certain. But I need money.'
+
+"'I have already told you that I would give it to you. Here is what you
+want. And now, what do you mean to do?'
+
+"'She is in my power now, and I shall soon have him, too.'
+
+"'No imprudence! We must not be compromised.'
+
+"'I am hardly foolish enough for that. I will torture Monte-Cristo's
+son, but not in a way that the law can reach!'
+
+"'Let him be tortured! Let him pay for all the agony his father has
+inflicted on me!'
+
+"'You shall be satisfied!'
+
+"The two men then walked away still talking, but in such low voices that
+I could not hear. I rushed from my hiding-place and hastened to my room.
+I had learned little, it is true; but what I heard had opened wide and
+fearful possibilities. I knew Monsieur de Laisangy, and knew that he
+would stop at nothing. It would be useless for me to interfere openly,
+and then I thought of you."
+
+"And you we're right in sending for me. In your recital, however, there
+are many points that are obscure. Thank you for warning me. You asked
+me, a few moments since, if I loved Esperance. I look upon him as my
+brother, and I would give my life to spare him a pang."
+
+"But of whom did the man speak when he said, '_she_ is in my power'?"
+
+"I do not venture to say; but in an hour we shall know."
+
+The young man turned toward the door. Carmen came to his side and gave
+him her hand. He drew her to his breast.
+
+"You have hurt me, Carmen, but I respect you more than ever, and I love
+you!"
+
+"Ah!" she said, passionately, "those words from your lips have made me
+your slave. I belong to you from this moment! I will mount guard over
+the enemy, and we will work together!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LIX.
+
+UPON THE TRACK.
+
+
+Goutran left Carmen's room, his brain all in a whirl. It was late, but
+the young man knew not too late to go to the Vicomte's. Throwing himself
+into a carriage, he drove to the hotel in the Champs Elysees. He was
+amazed to find it in total darkness, and when he asked for the Vicomte,
+was surprised at the embarrassed manner of the Swiss, as well as to hear
+that Esperance was out, without leaving word when he would return.
+
+"And Madame Caraman and Coucon?"
+
+"They are out too, sir."
+
+While Goutran was thus impatiently questioning the man, a carriage
+stopped, from which descended Fanfar, Sanselme, Coucon and Madame
+Caraman.
+
+"Ah! Monsieur Goutran!" exclaimed Fanfar, "I have just been to your
+rooms, and am thankful to meet you here. I am anxious to consult with
+you."
+
+"You know, then, what is going on?" cried Goutran.
+
+"I think I do; but let us go up-stairs; before we begin the fray, it is
+well to understand the battlefield, and to become familiar with it."
+
+As he said this, Fanfar entered the vestibule, but the Swiss hurried
+after him.
+
+"But, sir," he said, in some confusion, "in the absence of the Count and
+his son, I really cannot--"
+
+"Shut yourself up in your room, and pay no heed to what is going on
+here," Fanfar replied, sternly, showing, as he spoke, a ring that he
+wore on his finger.
+
+It belonged to Monte-Cristo, and had been entrusted to Fanfar by the
+Count when he went away. This ring was well known to every one of the
+Count's people. The man bowed low.
+
+"I beg your pardon, sir. Shall I call the footman?"
+
+"No; and on your life do not admit a living creature. You understand
+me?"
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+They ascended the stairs and entered the large rooms one after the
+other. When the Vicomte's cabinet was entered, it was found all in
+disorder.
+
+"The Vicomte, you see, has taken his pistols," said Coucon.
+
+"What time did the Vicomte go?" asked Fanfar.
+
+"I know not," answered Coucon, "and Madame was weeping so bitterly that
+she was of little use."
+
+Fanfar was annoyed that he could elicit so little, knowing well that if
+Monte-Cristo were there his eagle eye would have discovered something.
+
+"Send me the porter," he said.
+
+And when the man appeared, he asked at what hour the Vicomte went out
+last. The man, in some confusion, replied that he did not see him go
+out.
+
+"You were absent from your post, then?"
+
+"No, sir, I was not. I was not away for one moment yesterday."
+
+"And you saw every one who came in and went out?"
+
+"Yes, sir. The Vicomte did go out, but he came in again."
+
+"Came in!" cried Madame and Coucon, together.
+
+"Yes; it was about an hour after that, when you came and told me he had
+disappeared. I thought that he might have gone out, and I not heeded
+it."
+
+"And may not this have been so?" asked Fanfar. "If the Vicomte is not in
+the hotel, he must have gone out, you know."
+
+"I beg to observe, sir, that the Vicomte might have gone out by the
+small door which communicates directly with his apartment; but every
+night when I shut up the house I bolt that door, and it is still bolted;
+so that my young master did not go that way. It is possible, of course,
+that he could have passed my door without my seeing him. I can't always
+answer for myself; but I have proof that he did not do this."
+
+"What is your proof?"
+
+"Every night I fasten the great door with a chain and padlock and take
+the key. If any one wishes to go out in the night he must call me. As
+soon as the Vicomte came in I put up this chain. I assure you, sir, that
+I am speaking the truth. At first I was troubled and afraid I had been
+careless, but since I have collected my ideas, I am sure that I have
+nothing to reproach myself with."
+
+"Do you mean to say, then," cried Coucon, "that the Vicomte walked
+through the wall?"
+
+"It is very strange," said Fanfar, thoughtfully. "And now, my friends,"
+he added, turning to Coucon and Madame, "you may leave me here with
+Monsieur Goutran."
+
+"And with me?" added Bobichel.
+
+"You can stay, if you will. I may need you."
+
+"But, Monsieur Fanfar," said poor Madame, "I think we, too, are good for
+something. You ought not to send us away."
+
+The poor woman was greatly distressed.
+
+"Oh! I have something for you to do. Examine the garden carefully, and
+if you see the smallest thing that is unusual, come to me instantly."
+
+"There won't be a corner in which I shall not put my nose, be sure of
+that!" cried Coucon.
+
+"Oh! if the Count were only here!" sighed Madame.
+
+Fanfar was alone with Bobichel and Goutran.
+
+"Have you anything to suggest?" he said, suddenly turning to Goutran.
+"Do you know of any secret egress from this hotel?"
+
+"None whatever," answered the artist.
+
+"And yet you will observe that the girl was not carried away by either
+of the doors that are known, and she is gone!"
+
+"I did not think of that! There is unquestionably some issue known only
+to the Count."
+
+"Alas! the Count's enemies know it, also," answered Fanfar.
+
+"Let us go to the room that the girl was in--"
+
+"I was about to make that proposal. Now is the time, Bobichel," said
+Fanfar, turning to the former clown, "to see if we cannot regain a
+little of our cleverness."
+
+"I am ready, even to go through the eye of a needle, if it be
+necessary!" answered Bobichel.
+
+Goutran took a candle and led the way. When they reached Jane's room
+Fanfar took up a position in the centre of it, examined the ceiling, the
+floor and the walls. Then Bobichel explored every inch of the floor,
+which was covered with a thick carpet. But nothing could be found.
+
+"This is most extraordinary," murmured Fanfar, "and yet I am convinced
+that I am on the track."
+
+Suddenly Bobichel uttered an exclamation. "Here is something, master!"
+
+Fanfar and Goutran hastened to him. In one of the silk folds of the
+hanging on the wall there was a bit of white lace, evidently torn from
+something.
+
+"I recognize that," said Goutran. "I ordered the peignoirs she required,
+for we did not wish to admit any one into our secrets; and that lace
+trimmed one of the peignoirs."
+
+"And now we have it!" shouted Bobichel, inserting the blade of his knife
+in one of the plaits of the silk.
+
+Fanfar said hastily, "It is an iron door, and there must be a spring.
+Let us try, each of us, and feel over the whole wall, if it is
+necessary."
+
+They went to work, and presently Bobichel was lucky enough to press a
+little knob. A panel slowly opened, and a puff of warm air came full in
+the eager faces of the anxious men. With the light of their candles they
+saw a well-finished passage and two or three stairs; it was too dark to
+see more.
+
+"This is the way that Jane was abducted, and this is the way that
+Esperance went. Let us see where it goes." And Fanfar started first.
+
+Hardly had they reached the stairs than they heard the iron door close
+behind them. In spite of all their courage, they shuddered. Had the door
+shut of itself, or had it been closed by some invisible enemy? They
+turned back hastily, but there was not the smallest sign to be seen of
+door or spring.
+
+"What had we best do?" asked Goutran, uneasily.
+
+Fanfar reflected a moment. "As we cannot go back, let us hasten forward
+with all possible speed. We will find the way out."
+
+"Or we will make one!" cried Bobichel.
+
+The three friends started once more, Bobichel in front, holding a heavy
+bronze candelabra.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LX.
+
+ESPERANCE IN DESPAIR.
+
+
+It was indeed by this mysterious path that Esperance had gone. When he
+heard that Jane was not to be found, he at first could hardly comprehend
+what was said. He ran to Jane's room and looked about, then scarce
+knowing what he did, he left the house and then returned to it, after
+having wandered over Paris for two or three hours. No one noticed his
+pallor when he entered the hotel. He went to Jane's room again, and
+there, lying back in a low chair, he looked about with sad eyes.
+
+Suddenly he saw a panel slowly open in the wall. He was not afraid.
+Esperance did not know the sensation, and now he simply expected some
+revelation. He instantly knew that this was the path by which Jane had
+been taken away. He rose and entered the dark corridor. He had no light,
+and the door at once closed behind him; but he had inherited his
+father's singular power of seeing in the dark.
+
+He discovered the stairs, and began to descend them. He went on and on,
+and then another corridor, and then more stairs. Finally he reached a
+door, which he opened, and entered a large room hung with silk. It was
+one of the houses which had been so useful to Monte-Cristo years before.
+The path by which Esperance had come crossed the Champs Elysees under
+ground, and communicated with this house.
+
+All was magnificent, but Esperance saw nothing. Nothing but a lacquer
+table on which lay a letter. This letter contained the words, "If the
+son of Monte-Cristo be not a coward, if he wishes to find her whom he
+has lost, he will go from here to a certain Malvernet, who lives at
+Courberrie. There he will learn what he wishes to know, and will act as
+he deems best."
+
+Esperance was delighted. He did not stop to think of the singularity of
+finding this note in this place. What did he care for this mystery that
+surrounded him? He had found Jane Zeld, or rather he had found traces of
+her. He went to the chimney to look at the clock, for he had lost all
+idea of time, and happening to see his own face in the mirror, he could
+not repress a start. He looked to himself at least ten years older than
+when he last stood before a mirror. He wondered at himself, when he
+remembered his father, whose youth seemed eternal, in spite of the
+trials through which he had passed. When he went out from the hotel the
+first time he had mechanically put in his pocket a pair of revolvers--he
+had them now.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LXI.
+
+ESPERANCE GOES TO COURBERRIE.
+
+
+Twenty years since Courberrie was very far from what it is to-day. The
+houses were scattered and much fewer. Along the Seine extended deserted
+fields, against which the sullen tide rose and fell. In one of these
+fields stood an old wooden house which was not inhabited, for both wind
+and rain penetrated its roof and walls. On this especial night, however,
+any one familiar with the locality would have been astonished to see a
+light gleam through the worm-eaten shutters. In one room was a chair and
+a table. On the table was a lamp, but there was no other furniture.
+
+Pacing the room, and occasionally stopping to listen to the storm that
+shook the old house like the bones of a skeleton, was a man--a reddish
+beard covered half his face. He was dressed in black, and had thrown a
+cloak and broad-brimmed hat on the table.
+
+"Will he come?" he muttered, "will the long-expected hour ever strike?"
+
+A slight sound was heard without. The dry branches crackled; the man
+started, then snatched his hat and pulled it well down over his
+forehead. The hand that was hidden in the folds of the cloak which he
+threw over his shoulders, held a dagger.
+
+"I won't use it, though!" he said aloud, "his sufferings would be too
+brief!"
+
+There came a knock at the door.
+
+"Does a man named Malvernet live here?" asked a voice.
+
+"Yes, come in," and the door was thrown wide open.
+
+Esperance entered.
+
+"What do you want of me? I am Malvernet," said a gruff voice.
+
+Esperance looked about the room. The man was alone, and Esperance knew
+that he could defend himself.
+
+"Do you know who I am?" he asked.
+
+"No. I was told to wait for a man here, who would come. I have done as I
+was bidden, that is all."
+
+"I will tell you then. I am Esperance, the son of the Count of
+Monte-Cristo. I am rich, so rich that I do not myself know how much I
+have. Now if you obey me faithfully, I will make you so rich that every
+wish you have will be realized."
+
+A sneer was on Malvernet's lips.
+
+"You offer me money, do you, and why? Tell me what you want of me?"
+
+"Scoundrels entered my house in the night--"
+
+"And robbed you?"
+
+"Yes, they robbed me of a treasure--a treasure for which I would give
+all else I have in the world. They carried away a young girl whom I
+love."
+
+"And the girl's name?"
+
+"Jane. And now I wish you to take me to her."
+
+"And if I refuse?"
+
+"I will kill you!" answered Esperance, coldly.
+
+The other began to laugh noisily.
+
+"No," he said, "you will not kill me! You know that if you did that,
+with me would disappear every trace of her whom you love, and you would
+say to yourself, if he refuses to-day he may yield to-morrow. You see,
+son of Monte-Cristo, that your threats are preposterous and can't
+frighten me."
+
+"Then you refuse to do as I ask?"
+
+"By no means. Only I wish to prove to you that these grand airs are
+simply foolish. You need me, but I do not need you. The game is not
+equal!"
+
+"You are right," said Esperance, "and I ask your pardon."
+
+The eyes of Benedetto--for it was Benedetto--flashed with triumph to see
+the son of his enemy thus humble. He had him in his power now and could
+kill him if he pleased, but death would not have assuaged his thirst for
+vengeance.
+
+"All right," he said, "I was a little provoked with you, but I will
+help you now."
+
+Esperance uttered an exclamation of thankfulness.
+
+"Then let us hasten. When I have found Jane, ask me for my life if you
+choose."
+
+Benedetto opened the door.
+
+"Go on, sir, I will follow you."
+
+And as they went out, Benedetto muttered:
+
+"You little know what you say. Your life is indeed mine, and I mean to
+have it."
+
+The night was excessively dark, but Esperance felt neither rain nor
+wind; his fever was so great that he was not cold.
+
+Ah! Monte-Cristo, where are you? Here is your son rushing into the most
+terrible danger, and you far away!
+
+Through the darkness Esperance followed Benedetto the assassin. Suddenly
+it seemed to him that the obscurity was rent away like a vail.
+
+"Where are we?" he said to his guide.
+
+"On the bank of the Seine. We have not far to go. Are you afraid?"
+
+Esperance did not reply to this insulting question.
+
+"Go on!" he said.
+
+Presently they stopped before a dark building. Not a light was to be
+seen. Benedetto turned to the son of Monte-Cristo.
+
+"This is the place to which I agreed to bring you."
+
+"Do you mean that my beloved Jane is in this house?"
+
+"She is here."
+
+"I cannot believe it. The whole thing is a plot!"
+
+"Will you kindly tell me, sir," said Benedetto, "why I should take the
+trouble to come all this way? A half hour since we were together where
+no human eye could see us, nor human ear hear us. What would have
+prevented my attacking you then, had my intentions been sinister?"
+
+"That is true; but tell me that you are mistaken--that my poor Jane is
+not here!"
+
+At this moment shrill laughter and ribald songs came from the house near
+which Esperance stood.
+
+"Let us go in!" cried the Vicomte. "Jane must not stay here one other
+minute."
+
+"Come, then," answered Benedetto, "you shall be satisfied."
+
+He opened the door, but it was as dark within as without. Esperance
+heard the door close; he spoke, but there was no answer. He stretched
+out his arms and felt the wall, and instantly his eyes regained their
+peculiar facility of sight. He was alone in a small, square room without
+door or window. He uttered a cry of rage.
+
+"I have been deceived! The scoundrel!"
+
+But at the same moment the wall opened before him like two sliding
+panels, but in the place of the wall were iron bars. And through these
+bars Esperance beheld Jane, but what he saw was so terrible that he
+recoiled and uttered a cry of terror, which was drowned in shrieks of
+laughter, wild songs and the clatter of glasses.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LXII.
+
+COUCON.
+
+
+Goutran had entire faith in Carmen, and he was now anxious to
+communicate with her. He called the former Zouave.
+
+"Coucon," he said, "do you know where Monsieur Laisangy lives?"
+
+"The great banker? Oh! yes, sir, everybody knows that."
+
+"Then without losing one minute, I want you to go to his hotel. This
+note must be given to his daughter at once."
+
+"To Miss Carmen, sir?"
+
+"Precisely; but understand me--no one else must see it. This note must
+be given into her hands."
+
+"I understand, sir; it shall be done. There is nothing I would not do,
+sir, to repair my own stupidity."
+
+Coucon started off. To go to the hotel and ask for Miss Carmen was
+simple enough, but he took it into his head that it would be better if
+no one knew that he was there. He thought he would examine the premises
+before he decided on his course of action.
+
+When he reached the hotel, to his great surprise he found the doors wide
+open and the courtyard blazing with lights. Carriage after carriage was
+driving up, and stopping at the vestibule.
+
+"Upon my life," said Coucon, "this is bad enough."
+
+He stepped into a wine-shop, and asked for a bottle of wine; as he drank
+it he said to himself: "How the deuce am I to see Miss Carmen? She is in
+the salon receiving her guests. Of course, she won't come into the
+anteroom to get a _billet doux_, but if the mountain won't come to
+Mohammed, Mohammed must go to the mountain, which means, that if Miss
+Carmen won't come to me in the anteroom, I must go to her!"
+
+At this moment a Chasseur d'Afrique entered the wine-shop.
+
+"Will you have the kindness to tell me," he asked, of the shop-keeper,
+"where I shall find the hotel of a rich banker about here? Laisangy, I
+think, is the name."
+
+"Almost opposite--where all those carriages stand."
+
+"Ah! thanks!" And as the soldier turned round he saw Coucon.
+
+The recognition was mutual, and the two former companions fell into each
+other's arms.
+
+"Galaret!" cried Coucon.
+
+"Yes. And now let us have a glass."
+
+"Can't stop, have a commission to perform!"
+
+Nevertheless, Coucon did stop to drink a little, and to gossip. "When
+did you come to Paris?" he asked.
+
+"This very day, in the escort of Mohammed-Ben-Omar, a sort of Pasha, you
+know, and to-night he slipped on the stairs and wrenched his ankle. Take
+another glass, friend. Well, as I was saying, he was asked to this
+_soiree_ at the banker's and had to write a refusal. As he lies on his
+sofa, and is likely to lie there for some little time, this note I must
+deliver."
+
+Coucon did not seem to hear what his friend was saying, but suddenly
+exclaimed to an innocent looking bourgeois, at another table:
+
+"What are you staring at?"
+
+In vain did the man stammer that he was not even looking at them. One
+word led to another until a hot quarrel was in progress, the police were
+called in, and Galaret was arrested.
+
+"Give me your note," said Coucon, in the most obliging manner, "I will
+see that it is delivered."
+
+And he dashed out of the shop with suspicious alacrity. "You are a fool,
+Coucon," he said to himself, "if you don't manage to deliver your own
+note at the same time!"
+
+Our readers must not suppose that Coucon was so simple as to think of
+penetrating the Laisangy salons, even with the note he had obtained in
+so abominable a manner from his friend. The plan he had devised was more
+audacious and more sure. Ten minutes later the former Zouave entered the
+shop of a costumer in the Rue de Peletere. And in five minutes more he
+sallied forth a magnificent Bedouin, draped in white and wearing an
+enormous turban. He called out to the astonished coachman:
+
+"Rue de Rivoli! and drive fast!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LXIII.
+
+CARMEN KEEPS HER WORD.
+
+
+"I will watch the enemy," Carmen had said to Goutran, when they parted.
+The enemy was the man who had taken advantage of her inexperience, and
+induced her to call him father. Why had she not realized what she was
+doing sooner? She had, however, shown her womanly courage by the
+confession she had made to Goutran, and now she found herself without
+shield or buckler in opposition to the man under whose roof she lived.
+She resolved to defend Goutran and all those he loved. Woe to whomsoever
+should attack them.
+
+That same morning, Laisangy asked to be received by her. She was quite
+ready for another quarrel, but Laisangy was amiable and smiling, for he
+had at that moment heard from Benedetto that his vengeance was near
+being accomplished.
+
+Strangely enough this man Laisangy was in deadly terror of Monte-Cristo,
+and fully estimated the almost superhuman power of this wonderful man.
+But when Benedetto appeared before him and he found that there was one
+villain greater than himself, he was encouraged and comforted. What joy
+it would be to torture, without danger to himself, the soul of him whom
+he had so feared.
+
+Danglars had given himself, soul and body, to Benedetto, as in legends a
+man abandons himself to a demon. He smiled as he entered Carmen's room.
+
+"What do you want of me?" she said, coldly.
+
+"You have not forgotten that we give a grand reception this evening."
+
+"This evening! Surely you mistake--"
+
+"No. This is your own list of invitations that I hold in my hand."
+
+Carmen had forgotten entirely that these invitations had been sent out a
+week before.
+
+Laisangy looked at her closely.
+
+"I fancied," he said, "that this entertainment had escaped your memory."
+
+"I certainly shall not appear!" answered Carmen.
+
+The banker bit his lips, this was precisely what he feared. He began to
+argue the matter gently. And she, in her turn, began to reflect. She saw
+on the list the name of Goutran, which she had written with a breaking
+heart. After all, had she the right to desert her post?
+
+"Very well," she said, "I will be present."
+
+Laisangy was astonished at his prompt success.
+
+"Yes," she repeated, "on condition that you do not once call me your
+daughter."
+
+"What shall I call you?" stammered Laisangy.
+
+"Whatever you choose, only take care that you do not disobey me!"
+
+In fact, the banker cared little upon this point. He had obtained what
+he wanted. His fete would be made brilliant by Carmen's presence. He did
+not retire, however, and the girl saw that he had something else to
+say.
+
+"What more do you want?" she asked, impatiently.
+
+"My dear child," began Laisangy, with some pomposity, "you have,
+doubtless, ere this discovered that matters of finance are composed of a
+thousand details more important than those of diplomacy."
+
+"I have certainly learned that swindling is a troublesome business," she
+said through her teeth, and with intense disdain.
+
+Laisangy pretended not to hear this.
+
+"To-night," he said, with perfect _sang froid_, "we leave the
+Tuileries."
+
+He had counted on the effect of these words. Carmen shrugged her
+shoulders, which certainly was not respectful to the Emperor.
+
+"And I am greatly disturbed," continued the banker. "It may be necessary
+for me to leave for an hour. I shall pretend indisposition, which may be
+attributed to the heat, and while I am supposed to be recovering in my
+own room, I can go out and attend to my affairs."
+
+"You may be obliged to go out, then?"
+
+"Certainly; did you not understand?"
+
+"Why do you not tell me that you wish to go to the Bourse?"
+
+Laisangy was annoyed. He saw that Carmen was on the _qui vive_, and
+Carmen said to herself: "What does this mean? He is lying, and some
+infernal machination is on foot. I must learn what it is."
+
+She replied more gently:
+
+"But I care little about these matters; the Bourse does not interest
+me. At what hour did you say you might be called away?"
+
+"About midnight."
+
+"Very good. Then you would like me, I suppose, to be very anxious about
+you, and urge you to withdraw?"
+
+"Precisely!" answered the banker, much pleased. "Ah, Carmen, how well
+you understand me. Had you chosen, we two would have governed France!"
+
+"Not I!" answered Carmen, abruptly. "We are companions, not accomplices.
+I do not understand you, and I do not propose to aid you in your
+infamy."
+
+At this word Laisangy started, and thus confirmed the suspicions of
+Carmen, who was watching him.
+
+He took her hand, and she withdrew it quickly. He had obtained what he
+desired, and was now ready to depart.
+
+"What is he planning?" said Carmen to herself. "Is it really some
+financial operation, which, of course, I care nothing about, or is
+it----?"
+
+Goutran's name rose to her lips. All day she watched him, but saw
+nothing to justify her in her belief, and yet she knew that her woman's
+instinct had not played her false. Over and over again she was tempted
+to retract her promise, for the idea of this fete was intolerable to
+her. She thought of Goutran, and remembered that she might save him.
+
+The evening came, and Carmen's maid could hardly believe it was she who
+replied:
+
+"What dress, did you say? I don't care in the least!"
+
+Nevertheless, when Carmen appeared in the salons there was an audible
+murmur of admiration. In her white dress, with a few flowers in her
+beautiful hair, Carmen had never been more beautiful. She moved slowly
+through the rooms, looking for Goutran, who was not there, as we know.
+
+Little did Carmen care for these men and women, who were the tools and
+slaves of the man of December. Laisangy was radiant, however. Carmen
+shivered whenever she looked at him. It seemed to her that he was in a
+state of unusual excitement.
+
+The orchestra was playing delightfully, and lacqueys were announcing the
+first names of the empire--counts, and barons, and princes. Suddenly a
+new name was heard:
+
+"Mohammed-Ben-Omar!"
+
+And a magnificent personage, wearing the Legion of Honor on his white
+bournous, entered the room. Every one turned to look at him. He was a
+magnificent looking Arab. With a gravity that was truly oriental, and
+with his face half concealed in the folds of his mantle, his brown hands
+folded on his breast, Mohammed-Ben-Omar advanced.
+
+Laisangy went forward to meet him. In fact, he could hardly believe in
+his good fortune. Mohammed-Ben-Omar belonged to that class of Algerians
+who, listening to the counsel of French financiers, always cherished the
+project of making Algeria into a veritable El Dorado, and had now come
+to France to lend the support of his name and authority to some one of
+the speculations built on the sands of the desert, of which the
+Tuileries people were so fond.
+
+Laisangy, learning of his arrival in Paris, had hastened to send him an
+invitation, but had hardly hoped to see him. He was, therefore, more
+than usually civil.
+
+Ben-Omar replied to his courtesies only by carrying his hand to his
+heart and then to his forehead, in the recognized Mussulman manner. He
+did not speak one word of French, and yet, when Carmen passed, he said
+"Beautiful!" with a guttural intonation.
+
+"My daughter, sir!" answered the banker, with pride.
+
+"Beautiful! beautiful!" repeated the Mohammedan.
+
+Laisangy signed to Omar to accompany him to the group where Carmen was
+talking. There he went through the ceremony of introduction. Then,
+leaning toward her, Omar said, under his breath:
+
+"I come from Goutran. Allah il Allah!" he added, aloud.
+
+Carmen started. Never was she so astonished. The name of Goutran from
+these lips was like lightning from a clear sky. She looked at the Arab's
+bronze face and his huge moustache.
+
+"Take His Excellency's arm," said Laisangy, "and show him the gallery
+and statuary."
+
+Carmen hesitated, but Omar at once threw his bournous aside and offered
+the young lady his arm.
+
+Laisangy whispered in Carmen's ear:
+
+"Do not delay too long. I have received the signal and must do what was
+agreed upon between us."
+
+Carmen paid little heed to these words, but moved through the crowd on
+Omar's arm, slowly and thoughtfully. Omar was very solemn, but under his
+moustache he whispered:
+
+"I come from Monsieur Goutran."
+
+"Who are you?" she asked, raising her fan to hide her lips as she spoke.
+
+Whenever the crowd came too near he raised his arm, and with a grand
+sweep of bournous, hand and arm, he said:
+
+"Allah il Allah! Rassoul il Allah!"
+
+Everybody drew back much impressed, for the incomprehensible has always
+great power.
+
+At last, Omar and Carmen were alone in a small salon.
+
+"Will you tell me who you are?" asked Carmen once again.
+
+"I am Coucon--devoted to Monsieur Goutran and to Esperance, the son of
+Monte-Cristo."
+
+"And you disguised yourself to see me?"
+
+"Yes, for I had a note to bring from Monsieur Goutran."
+
+"Give it to me!" Carmen cried.
+
+When at last Coucon succeeded in finding it among the folds of his
+bournous, she snatched it from him.
+
+This is what she read:
+
+
+  "Carmen, my friend and my ally, you have promised your assistance.
+  Gladly do I claim it. My friends are in great peril. Jane Zeld has
+  vanished in the most mysterious manner, as has Esperance. There must
+  be in the Hotel de Monte-Cristo some secret issue which our enemies do
+  not know. The infamous L---- must possess this secret. Do your best to
+  discover it. You see that I place my reliance on you, for I love you.
+
+  "GOUTRAN."
+
+
+Carmen uttered a joyous exclamation. Goutran loved her! Coucon turned
+toward her.
+
+"Well," he asked, "what am I to tell him?"
+
+"Return to Monsieur Goutran and tell him that if it costs me my life I
+will discover what he wishes to know. And remember that you must open
+the door of the hotel to me at whatever time I may come. Of course, you
+and Monsieur Goutran will be there all night. Now, go!"
+
+At this moment a terrified looking servant entered the room.
+
+"Mademoiselle," he said, "your father has just been taken ill."
+
+Omar respectfully saluted the young girl, and was lost in the crowd. No
+one noticed him, for there was much excitement over the illness of the
+great financier. Carmen followed the lacquey with rather too slow a step
+for the occasion. She was intensely irritated at this new comedy, and
+she was tempted to cry out to the crowd:
+
+"He lies! He has always lied!"
+
+Laisangy was lying back in his chair. There was no physician in the
+room, and yet the people about him talked knowingly of bleeding him.
+Fortunately for him, Carmen arrived.
+
+"I know what it is," she said; "he has had similar attacks before. He
+will be better after a little rest."
+
+And Carmen gave orders that the banker should be carried to his chamber.
+Then excusing herself to her guests, she followed.
+
+Laisangy, who was becoming greatly bored by the part he was playing,
+supposed that Carmen would dismiss the servants and remain with him
+herself; but she had quite other plans. She bade the men undress their
+master and put him in his bed. Laisangy was ready to swear at her, but,
+of course, he was too ill to dispute. If he suddenly revived and made a
+row, then the story would get about of the ridiculous comedy he had
+played. His patience was not long tried, however. Carmen only wanted to
+gain a little time, in which she might hope to discover the contents of
+a letter which she saw the banker receive and put in his pocket early in
+the evening. She found the letter and retired into the next room to read
+it.
+
+"Vengeance is assured. Fanfar and Goutran are prisoners in the house of
+Monte-Cristo. As to the girl, she is at the house at Courberrie, where
+Esperance will arrive too late."
+
+Hardly had Carmen grasped the sense of these words than she ran to her
+room, and wrapping herself in her long black cloak, left the hotel by
+the private door.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LXIV.
+
+THE PLOT.
+
+
+We left Esperance in the house at Courberrie just when the panels had
+been thrown open. He uttered a cry of horror. What did he see? Around a
+table covered with glasses sat a number of women singing drunken songs,
+and among these women sat one pale as a ghost, and this one was Jane!
+
+Ah! poor child! Of what terrible machination was she the victim?
+
+Benedetto, who required her as a tool for his vengeance, had carried her
+through the subterranean passage, she all the time entirely unconscious.
+He laid her on a sofa, and stood with folded arms looking down upon her.
+Did he feel the smallest emotion of pity? No, not he! He was only asking
+himself if the girl was so attractive that Esperance would really feel
+her loss as much as his enemies wished. Suddenly she sighed--a long,
+strange, fluttering sigh. Benedetto leaned over her anxiously. What if
+she were to die now! He must hasten. Everything had been arranged. He
+opened her teeth with the blade of a knife, and poured down her throat a
+few drops of a clear white liquor. It was an anesthetic whose terrible
+properties he well understood. Jane would see, Jane would hear, and Jane
+would suffer, but as she could neither speak nor move--all resistance
+would be impossible. And, that night she was carried to the house at
+Courberrie, what terrible agony she suffered! She knew that she was in
+the power of an enemy, that she had been torn from him whom she loved
+better than life, and from whose lips she had just heard oaths of
+eternal fidelity. With a heart swelling with agony she could not utter a
+sound. Her soul was alive, but her body was motionless. Suddenly the
+room in which she lay was brilliantly illuminated. A crowd of women came
+pouring in--and such women! My readers who remember Jane's past can
+readily imagine that the girl regarded this scene as a hideous dream.
+She even fancied that she saw her mother.
+
+Esperance beheld all this. He rushed forward, only to be stopped by iron
+bars.
+
+This terrible scene had been most adroitly managed. The house at
+Courberrie belonged to Danglars, and had been the scene of many ignoble
+orgies. The opening through which Esperance looked was not more than
+thirty feet from Jane. He called, but she could not hear him. Then all
+was suddenly dark. The lights returned in a few minutes, and Jane was
+seen alone.
+
+"Jane! Jane!" cried Esperance. Suddenly a door opened. Esperance saw an
+old man enter the room. He went up to Jane with a hideous smile on his
+face. It was Laisangy.
+
+Of all the crimes that Benedetto had committed, this was the most
+infamous!
+
+Esperance caught the iron bars and shook them violently, and with such
+enormous strength that one of them was loosened. Esperance passed
+through them and stood in a corridor, but there was a sheet of plate
+glass still between him and Jane. This glass he broke with his clenched
+hands, and Esperance sprang at the throat of Danglars and threw him to
+the other end of the room. Then, taking Jane in his arms, he cried:
+
+"Jane! my beloved--do you not hear me? I am Monte-Cristo."
+
+"Monte-Cristo!" repeated a hoarse voice.
+
+Esperance half turned.
+
+Danglars had staggered up from the floor, and was gazing at Esperance
+with eyes fairly starting from his head. With his deadly pallor and a
+gash on his cheek from the glass through which he had passed, Esperance
+bore a striking resemblance to his father. He looked as Dantes looked
+the day his infamous companion betrayed him at Marseilles. Danglars was
+appalled.
+
+"Edmond Dantes!" he cried in agony, raising his arms high above his
+head, and wildly clutching the air for support. Then he fell forward on
+his face in an attack of apoplexy.
+
+Esperance laid Jane again on the sofa, and ran to his assistance. He
+lifted him from the floor. The banker was dead.
+
+Esperance was as if stunned. The strange events, coming one after the
+other, affected his reason. He believed himself the victim of a hideous
+nightmare. He heard a sigh and turned back to Jane, who seemed to be
+trying to throw off the stupor that had weighed her down. The effect of
+the narcotic was probably passing off. She raised her hands and pressed
+them to her forehead. Esperance forgot everything else, and falling at
+Jane's feet he cried, in an agony of entreaty.
+
+"Oh! Jane, awake! I must take you from this terrible place. Jane,
+awake!"
+
+The girl's eyes moved.
+
+"Who speaks my name?" she whispered.
+
+"It is I--I, who loves--Esperance!"
+
+Jane opened her eyes quickly.
+
+"Esperance! Oh! not here--it must not be!"
+
+She began to sob convulsively.
+
+"I know all, my beloved!" he answered, soothingly, "I know the snare
+that was laid for you. But why do you repel me, dearest?"
+
+"Ah! you do not know," she said, amid her sobs. "Those women--those
+songs. Ah! let me die!"
+
+"No, do not say that! We are surrounded by enemies, but I fear them not.
+Come, we must leave this place."
+
+But, with her brain still excited by opium, she continued to resist.
+
+"Jane, you know me?--I am Esperance. Let us fly, and find our happiness
+together. Jane--dear Jane!"
+
+His voice was so tender and so persuasive that suddenly the
+terror-stricken expression left the girl's face. She placed her hands on
+his shoulder, and contemplated him in a sort of ecstasy.
+
+"Yes, I remember. Esperance, how I love you!"
+
+At this instant, like a chorus behind the scenes, there came the shouts
+of ribald laughter. She fell on the floor, crying: "Alas! alas! I am
+accursed!"
+
+The door of the room was thrown open, and a man entered. This man was
+Benedetto.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LXV.
+
+THE MYSTERIOUS SIGNALS.
+
+
+Having played his little comedy with consummate skill, Coucon hastened
+to the carriage he had kept waiting, and drove to the Hotel de
+Monte-Cristo. He was in such haste to inform Goutran that he had
+successfully fulfilled his mission, that he forgot to disembarrass
+himself of his fancy costume, so that when he appeared before Madame
+Caraman, the good woman uttered a cry of terror.
+
+"It is only I--Coucon."
+
+Madame protested against his selecting a time like this to indulge in a
+masquerade.
+
+"It is nothing of the kind," answered Coucon, impatiently. "Where is
+Monsieur Goutran?"
+
+"I have not seen the gentlemen since you went out."
+
+"Then they must be in Miss Jane's room still?"
+
+"I suppose so."
+
+"We will go there at once, then."
+
+But the Zouave was interrupted by a strange sound like that made by a
+heavy hammer at some distance.
+
+Madame turned pale.
+
+"You know, Coucon, that I am not a coward, but I tell you I can't make
+out that sound. I have heard it now for some time."
+
+"It seems to come from the cellar."
+
+"Yes, that is what I think. But let us tell the friends."
+
+They by this time had reached Jane's door, on which they knocked. No
+reply. Then, after knocking and listening, Madame said:
+
+"We must go in!"
+
+She opened the door, and both uttered a cry on finding the chamber
+empty. The iron panel had closed, and no one would have suspected its
+existence.
+
+Coucon could not believe his eyes. He ran through every room, but those
+they sought had vanished. They had not gone out of the hotel, for Madame
+had guarded it.
+
+"Well!" cried Coucon, "vanished like Miss Jane, like the Vicomte
+Esperance!"
+
+Hark! Again they heard the strange noise.
+
+Coucon, born and bred in Paris, had read many novels and seen many
+plays. He at once announced that the house they were in had subterranean
+passages.
+
+"But there are no doors."
+
+"What of that!"
+
+He dashed from the room, and came back with hammer and chisel!
+
+"What are you going to do?"
+
+"Demolish the house, if necessary."
+
+Madame wrung her hands.
+
+"We shall be forgiven if we make mistakes," said Coucon. "We can do only
+our best."
+
+And Coucon began to tear up the carpet, and then to sound the boards.
+
+"Above," he said, looking up, "are the bath rooms, and I think we had
+best begin by pulling down the hangings on the wall."
+
+"Oh! that is wicked!"
+
+It was of no use to argue, the Zouave had made up his mind, and he
+ripped off the silk as if it had been old cotton. Madame, fired by his
+example, went to work also. While they were thus frantically busy, the
+door-bell rang.
+
+"It is Miss Carmen," cried Coucon. "She may be able to tell us
+something."
+
+He hastened to the door. It was Carmen, as he had supposed.
+
+"My friends," she said, "where is Goutran?"
+
+"I do not know," was the reply.
+
+"I will tell you, then. He, with Monsieur Fanfar are prisoners in this
+house."
+
+"What did I tell you!" shouted Coucon. "And now, listen--the noise has
+begun again."
+
+Seizing the hammer, Coucon struck three hard blows on the walls at
+regular intervals. He waited and listened. Three blows answered him. He
+struck again, varying the number, which were immediately repeated.
+
+"Yes, it is plain. Our friends hear us, and wish to communicate with us.
+But hark! they have begun." Twenty-five blows were struck, one after the
+other, in quick succession. The three looked at each other, greatly
+troubled.
+
+"The twenty-five letters of the alphabet!" cried Madame.
+
+"Yes," said Carmen, "repeat, to prove that you understand."
+
+After repeated experiments it was found that communication was easy, and
+Carmen spelled out:
+
+"There is an iron door under the silk."
+
+"I knew it!" Coucon exclaimed, "I had began to tear it off when you
+came."
+
+They pulled off the silk, and suddenly Coucon exclaimed:
+
+"Here is the door!" Without well knowing what he was doing, Coucon
+pressed the knob, and the panel flew open so quickly that Coucon was
+nearly knocked over. "Take the light and come!" he shouted.
+
+Carmen snatched the candelabra, and they passed through the door.
+
+It will be remembered what happened when Goutran and his friends entered
+the passage. When their feet touched the stairs the panel closed. In
+fact, a secret mechanism connected the first stair with the iron door.
+Those who did not know it became prisoners at once, while others simply
+stepped over this stair, and so left the iron panel open. But neither
+Coucon nor the others knew this. Down went Coucon's foot in the wrong
+place, and the panel swung to. At the same moment Fanfar, Goutran and
+Bobichel appeared. They had been guided by the light.
+
+"Goutran!" cried Carmen, running toward him.
+
+"What! is it you who has delivered us?"
+
+They went back all together, to find themselves prisoners? No, for
+Coucon had dropped the hammer, which accidentally fell in the aperture,
+thus preventing the door from closing entirely when the spring on the
+stair was touched. They were saved!
+
+In Jane's room they held a consultation. Carmen communicated what she
+had heard, and showed the note she had taken from Laisangy.
+
+"But where is the place he speaks of?" asked Fanfar.
+
+"I can show you," she said, quietly.
+
+Coucon ran to the stables, and in ten minutes the carriage stood at the
+door.
+
+"Heaven grant that we arrive in time!" said Fanfar.
+
+Alas! it was a vain hope. Much time had been lost while the three men
+had been shut up. Their candles had burned out. Fanfar tore a rail from
+the stairs and began to sound the wall, and suddenly they heard
+themselves answered, but all the time they were at a loss to understand
+how they had been able to establish such prompt communication. But this
+was no time for explanation. All they now thought of was Esperance. The
+carriage was driven at full speed toward Courberrie.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LXVI.
+
+UNITED IN DEATH.
+
+
+Benedetto entered. He was now the escaped convict, neither more nor
+less. On his lips was a hideous smile. He had attained his aim at
+last--he had in his power the son of the man whom he hated, and revenge
+was sweet.
+
+Esperance held Jane in his arms, and merely turned his head toward
+Benedetto.
+
+"Who are you?" he cried. "I know you not, but if you are not the basest
+of the base, you will aid me to make my escape from this terrible place,
+and enable me to take this poor child with me."
+
+"No, sir!" answered Benedetto, slowly. "I will not aid you to escape,
+and you will not save this woman."
+
+"Ah! I understand you. You are the accomplice of these scoundrels. Very
+well; I will make a way for myself."
+
+He drew his revolvers from his pocket, and pointed one at Benedetto.
+
+"Move!" he cried, "or I will kill you as I would a dog!"
+
+"You would commit murder then, would you?"
+
+"No--it would be simple self-protection. I am not your prisoner, and
+this woman ought to be sacred to you."
+
+"This woman," said Benedetto, "tells you she comes here not of her own
+free will. Do you believe her?"
+
+"Jane! answer him, my beloved! Tell him he lies!"
+
+Benedetto started back.
+
+"Jane Zeld," he said, "tell the absolute truth. Tell the Vicomte if you
+consider yourself worthy of him." Jane turned her weary eyes upon the
+Vicomte. "Tell him if the daughter of the Lyons outcast has any right to
+lean on the arm of the Vicomte de Monte-Cristo. Jane Zeld, think of the
+past. Tell this gentleman who your mother was. Tell him where she died."
+
+"No, no!" cried Jane. "Enough! enough!"
+
+"No, it is not enough. Lead the Vicomte to your mother's tomb and there
+place your hand in his, if you dare!"
+
+"Be silent!" cried Esperance, who felt himself growing mad.
+
+"But this is not all," continued Benedetto. "Jane Zeld, shall I tell the
+Vicomte the name of your father?"
+
+"I know it not!"
+
+"Have you forgotten the man who took you from a wretched house at the
+time of your mother's death? This man was Sanselme, the former
+priest--Sanselme, the former convict, and your father! And now, Vicomte,
+will you kill me? Do so, if you dare!"
+
+Jane fell back, fainting.
+
+"She is dead!" cried Esperance. "Ah! coward and assassin, I will have
+your life for this. Have you arms? I wish you to have some chance."
+
+Benedetto threw aside the mantle he wore and showed two swords, one of
+which he threw at the feet of Esperance.
+
+Yes, he had long craved this duel, and, sure of his ability, felt that
+he had to do with a mere boy.
+
+Esperance seized the sword, and went up to Benedetto.
+
+"You have insulted me," he said, gravely, "in insulting this woman who
+is dearer to me than life itself; it matters little who you are, prepare
+to die."
+
+This room was a singular duelling ground, but Esperance cared little for
+that. His pulse beat no more quickly than usual. He had greatly changed
+in the last few hours. He felt himself elevated to the dignity of
+chastisement.
+
+The two antagonists stood on guard. There was a moment of profound
+silence. In a mural painting on the walls of a German cathedral, two men
+stand like this, and a little distance off, half hidden behind a tree,
+is the figure of Death.
+
+Esperance was perfectly cool, but Benedetto saw after two or three
+passes that he had no boy antagonist. Calling together all his resources
+he made a lunge. His antagonist returned it, and grazed Benedetto's
+breast.
+
+At this moment Jane revived. "Courage, Esperance, courage!" she
+murmured.
+
+The young man heard her voice, and the contest was renewed. Ten times
+did the sword of Esperance menace the heart of Benedetto, ten times did
+the scoundrel escape death. But he began to feel afraid. The sword of
+the son of Monte-Cristo flashed and gleamed before his eyes like the
+fiery sword of the Bible. Esperance was gaining the advantage, and a cry
+of rage escaped the panting breast of Benedetto. Was it possible that
+after all, his vengeance was about to slip through his fingers? And was
+he to die instead of Monte-Cristo's son! He recoiled further and
+further, feeling that the sword of his opponent would pin him to the
+wall.
+
+Monte-Cristo's son said to him, "Scoundrel! your life is in my power.
+Repent of the evil you have done, and I will show you mercy."
+
+"Mercy!" sneered Benedetto. "You talk of mercy. Take care, I hate you! I
+hate your father. Hasten to take my life or I swear that I will take
+yours!"
+
+"Die then!" cried Esperance.
+
+And with a rapid movement of his sword he disarmed his adversary; his
+blade was about to enter Benedetto's breast when the report of a pistol
+was heard, and Esperance, shot through the heart, fell by Jane's side.
+She threw herself on his body with cries of despair. Benedetto, with an
+infernal smile, turned away with a pistol in his hand.
+
+It will be remembered that Esperance in his righteous anger had aimed
+his pistols at Benedetto, but the thought of a murder in this upright
+soul was but a passing one, and when he drew his sword he laid down his
+pistols upon a chair near him.
+
+At the moment when Benedetto felt that all was lost his eyes fell an the
+arms, and an infernal thought struck him. He gradually approached the
+chair, and finally, with a sudden movement, snatched one of the
+revolvers. The scoundrel had murdered his adversary. Esperance fell and
+Jane encircled him with her arms.
+
+Benedetto frowningly looked on. He had at last achieved his object.
+Unable to injure the man he hated, he had wounded him through his son,
+his only child!
+
+"Farewell," sighed Esperance, "I love thee, Jane, but I am dying!"
+
+"And I die with you!" answered Jane, with paling lips.
+
+And as if the angel of death touched them both at the same time, they
+slept in eternal night.
+
+Benedetto did not move. Suddenly he started. Loud noises were heard at
+the door of the deserted house.
+
+"We are here, Esperance! We bring you aid!" voices called in cheering
+tones.
+
+Benedetto looked about like a wild boar at bay. Every issue was cut off.
+He knew that he had no pity to expect, for when these men beheld him
+here with his two victims they would take his life without the smallest
+hesitation. He rushed to the window and opened it; the Seine ran dark at
+his feet.
+
+Benedetto waited until Fanfar and his friends entered the room, and
+then crying out to them, "You are too late! I have killed the son of
+Monte-Cristo!" leaped into the river.
+
+Goutran rushed to Esperance, and lifting him in his arms, said
+despairingly: "Dead! murdered!"
+
+And in the presence of these two young creatures so beautiful in death,
+the men uncovered their bowed heads and Carmen knelt in passionate
+weeping.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLVII.
+
+THE SPECTRE.
+
+
+Just as Benedetto leaped into the Seine, another man entered the room
+where the victims lay. This man was Sanselme.
+
+It will be remembered that the former convict had been present at the
+conversation in which Fanfar and his companions resolved to rescue
+Esperance. The sick man, unable to move, still down with fever, saw them
+go.
+
+The mad woman also remained in the room, saying over and over again:
+"Benedetto is my son, my son, and he killed me!" While Sanselme repeated
+Jane's name without cessation. By degrees his strength returned to him,
+his nerves were all in a quiver.
+
+Jane in danger and he lying there idle! No, no, that could not be! He
+rose from the bed, and supporting himself by the wall, got out of the
+house. Where was he going? He knew not. He endeavored to collect his
+thoughts, and suddenly a name stood out clear in his brain.
+Monte-Cristo, yes it was to the hotel of Monte-Cristo that he must go.
+There, at all events, he should find Fanfar, and together they would
+look for Jane. At first Sanselme could hardly walk, but his tread became
+gradually firmer. Just as he reached the Hotel de Monte-Cristo, he saw
+the carriage drive out of the court-yard.
+
+A strange phenomenon now took place. Sanselme drew a long breath and
+began to run after the carriage--he felt no more lassitude nor weakness.
+His entire vital strength was concentrated in his superhuman effort. And
+this man who just now could not hold himself erect, ran on swiftly
+without hesitation. With his eyes on the carriage lamps he followed them
+unerringly. Somnambulists and madmen alone do such things. And Sanselme
+ran as if he were in a dream. He saw the carriage stop at last, and he
+heard violent blows upon a door. And then he entered as well as the
+others, and appeared on the scene just as Benedetto leaped from the
+window.
+
+Sanselme beheld Jane, and in that moment of agony his broken, bleeding
+heart loosed its grasp upon his secret, for he cried out:
+
+"Jane! my daughter! My beloved daughter!"
+
+Fanfar instantly understood the truth and laid his hand compassionately
+on his shoulder.
+
+"Courage!" he said, gently.
+
+But Sanselme shook off the hand, and before any one knew what he meant
+to do, he climbed upon the window, crying:
+
+"Benedetto! You shall not escape!"
+
+And he, too, leaped into the water. Benedetto was scarce a minute in
+advance.
+
+Benedetto had made a mistake. He knew of a secret egress from this
+house, but he forgot it, so great was his fear.
+
+Fear? Yes. For the first time in his life he had made an attack on
+Monte-Cristo, and in spite of his audacity, knew perfectly well that
+the mere presence of the Count would cause him to tremble with fear. He
+did not wish to die, and therefore fled by the first path that presented
+itself. And after all, to swim the Seine was a trifle to the former
+_forcat_. He was strong and a good swimmer, but the height from which he
+sprang was so great that at first he was almost stunned. The water was
+icy cold. He first thought of climbing again to the same shore, but his
+adversaries might be watching and he might fall into their hands; while
+on the other bank the forest of Neuilly offered him a sure refuge. He
+therefore swam across. The current was strong, but he and Sanselme had
+known a worse and heavier sea when they escaped from Toulon. It was
+strange, the persistency with which this name returned to him. At this
+same moment he heard a dull noise behind him as if some one leaped into
+the water. Could it be that one of his enemies had started in pursuit?
+He found that he was making little progress and that his strength was
+going. He allowed himself to float for a few minutes, and in the silence
+felt convinced that some one was pursuing him. But what nonsense it was
+in such darkness to make such an attempt. Benedetto now allowed himself
+to be carried on by the current, crossing the river obliquely, and
+managed to make no noise whatever as he swam. And yet as he listened he
+heard the same sound behind him at about the same distance. And now
+Benedetto beheld the shore. In a few minutes he would be safe, and when
+on firm ground he could look out for himself. He sneered to himself.
+What nonsense all this talk was of punishment for crime. He had managed
+to escape so far! Finally he stood on the shore. He heard a cry from the
+water. He understood it. It came from his pursuer, who was now near
+enough to see that his prey had escaped him. He was right.
+
+Sanselme had not lost sight of Benedetto, and had felt sure of catching
+him; but he had been struck on the shoulder by a piece of floating wood.
+The pain was excessive, and he lost his power of swimming. In this
+moment Benedetto escaped him. He could dimly see his form on the shore,
+and then the man's shadow was lost in the shadow of the woods. Sanselme
+uttered a groan. This man had killed Jane, and would now go unpunished.
+Up to this moment the former convict had been sustained by unnatural
+strength, but now this strength was gone. He could do no more and
+believed himself to be dying. Suddenly he felt something within reach of
+the hands with which he was beating the water like a drowning dog. It
+was a rope. A schooner had been wrecked here and a rope was hanging from
+its broken hull. Sanselme clung to it with the energy of despair, and by
+it raised himself on board the schooner and fell on the deck utterly
+exhausted, morally and physically.
+
+Suddenly he uttered a wild cry. He had been looking intently at the spot
+where he had seen Benedetto disappear. He saw the man's shadow again,
+but it was not alone. With it was something white, that looked like a
+spectre. And the spectre was gliding over the ground in the direction of
+the wreck on which Sanselme was crouching.
+
+What was it? One form was certainly Benedetto's; but the spectre--was it
+anything more than the fog that rises at dawn along the riverside? Not
+so--it was a phantom; the terrible resurrection of the Past.
+
+Benedetto had run toward the wood, believing that there he would be
+safe. Suddenly his heart stood still, for before him rose a tall form
+draped in white, like a winding-sheet. This man was a coward at heart,
+and had been all his life afraid of ghosts. But he encouraged himself
+now, saying that it was mist from the river, which a breath of wind
+would dissipate. Summoning all his courage, he stopped and went toward
+this strange form. It was a form and not mist; but its height looked
+unnatural as it stood leaning against a tree. Why did not Benedetto turn
+aside, either to the right or the left? He could not; something stronger
+than his will drew him toward the nameless Thing. Finally Benedetto laid
+his hand on the shoulder of the Thing. It turned and lifted its head.
+Then an appalling shriek, which was like nothing human, came from
+Benedetto's lips. This spectre was that of his mother, whom he had
+stabbed in the breast at Beausset so many years before. And the ghost
+stood gazing at him with her large eyes, while her gray tresses floated
+in the wind.
+
+Benedetto did not seek to understand. He believed that the dead had
+risen from the tomb. She looked at him for a full minute. Then she said:
+
+"Come, Benedetto; come, my son."
+
+And the long, skeleton-like hand was laid on the parricide's wrist with
+such an icy pressure that Benedetto felt as if a steel ring were being
+riveted on his arm.
+
+"Come, my son," said the mad woman; "you will never leave me again, will
+you?"
+
+She drew him gently along as he walked. He did not attempt to disengage
+himself; he obeyed the summons as if it were from Death.
+
+The phantom--that is to say, Madame Danglars, the poor, insane
+creature--had escaped from Fanfar's house by the door which Sanselme
+left open, and having found her son thus strangely, lavished on him
+tender words, which in the ear of the dastard were like curses. Thus
+they reached the shore, and it was not until Benedetto saw the Seine
+once more before him that he realized what he was doing. He shook off
+the hand on his wrist and began to run. He saw the wreck a foot or two
+from the shore, and with one leap he reached it, having little idea of
+the danger that awaited him there. The mad woman followed him and tried
+to put her arms around him. "You shall never leave me again, Benedetto!"
+she murmured.
+
+Sanselme saw and heard it all. It seemed to him that it was some
+frightful nightmare. She advancing and Benedetto retreating, the two
+reached the other end of the wreck; their feet slipped, there was a dull
+sound as they fell, and the water opened to receive them. Sanselme
+leaned over. He could see nothing, and heard not another sound.
+
+In the morning a corpse was found leaning over the gunwale, with eyes
+open. One sailor said to another:
+
+"A drunken man the less in the world!"
+
+That was the only funeral sermon preached over Sanselme.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LXVIII.
+
+MONTE-CRISTO, THE MARTYR.
+
+
+In the Hotel de Monte-Cristo all is sad and silent. The very walls and
+the furniture had a funereal air. In the large chamber lie the bodies of
+Jane and Esperance, the son of Monte-Cristo. How much beauty, youth and
+tenderness were to be swallowed up in Mother Earth! Jane, vailed in
+lace, had a tender smile upon her lips. Esperance, in his serene repose,
+was the image of Monte-Cristo in his early days.
+
+Near the bed were two men watching--Fanfar, the faithful friend of the
+Count, who had saved him and his son at Ouargla; Goutran, the companion
+of Esperance, who knew the greatness of that young soul. The two sat in
+silence, and hardly dared look at each other. They were both oppressed
+with remorse.
+
+Monte-Cristo had gone away, obeying a sentiment of delicacy, wishing to
+leave his son in entire liberty to develop in such direction as his
+nature demanded. But when he went he said to these men, "I confide to
+you the one treasure that I have in the world--watch over him."
+
+And they had made answer that they would protect him from harm with
+their lives. They were living and Esperance was dead. They heard in
+their ears like the tolling of a funeral bell, the words, "Too late!
+Too late!" If they had arrived in time they would certainly have
+prevented the catastrophe, but this was the result--this motionless form
+with hands crossed on his breast.
+
+Coucon and Madame Caraman, down stairs, were weeping and watching.
+
+Fanfar and Goutran were silent, as we have said, for the same question
+was upon the lips of both men, and both knew that there was no answer.
+Had not the Count said, "If any peril demands my presence summon me, and
+within three days I will be with you." And it would be precisely three
+days at midnight since Fanfar sent the summons.
+
+Would he come? The clock struck half-past eleven, and no Monte-Cristo.
+Must they then lay in the grave the mortal remains of the son of
+Monte-Cristo without a farewell kiss on the pale brow from his father?
+They felt as if it were another wrong of which they would be guilty
+toward this unhappy father.
+
+Fanfar was buried in thought. He saw Esperance, when almost a child he
+defied the Arabs. He saw him borne in his father's arms from Maldar's
+Tower. And Goutran, too, thought of the last words that the Vicomte had
+said to him: "To love is to give one's self entirely, in life and in
+death!"
+
+The lamps burned dimly. The clock struck twelve. The two men started,
+for the door opened noiselessly and a man of tall stature entered. It
+was the Count of Monte-Cristo. His eyes were dim, his shoulders bowed,
+and his steps awakened no echo. He was dressed in black.
+
+The two men did not move nor speak. They seemed to feel that no human
+voice should break this awful stillness.
+
+Monte-Cristo walked to the side of the bed and looked at his son, long
+and steadily. What thoughts were hidden in that active brain?
+
+And now Fanfar beheld a terrible, unheard-of thing. When Monte-Cristo
+entered, his hair was black as night, and as he stood there his hair
+began to whiten. What terrible torture that man must have undergone in
+those minutes. Age, which had made no mark on this organization of iron,
+suddenly took possession of it. First, his temples looked as if light
+snow was thrown upon it, and then by degrees the whole head became
+white. Those who saw this sight will never forget it.
+
+Monte-Cristo bent low over the bier on which Esperance lay. He took his
+son in his arms as a mother lifts her child from the cradle, and bearing
+the body Monte-Cristo left the room.
+
+Suddenly shaking off the torpor which had held them motionless, Fanfar
+and Goutran started in pursuit. But in vain did they search the hotel,
+Monte-Cristo had vanished with the body of his son.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LXIX.
+
+EPILOGUE.
+
+
+A man stood on a solitary rock. Suddenly he uttered a shout of triumph.
+
+He had discovered the secret of immense wealth. And this man threw down
+the pickaxe in his hand and standing erect, cried aloud:
+
+"Oh! you whose infamy condemned me to fourteen years of imprisonment,
+and whose name I do not yet know, beware! Dantes is free."
+
+Young and with confidence in the future, Edmond Dantes, the lover of
+Mercedes, returned to Marseilles, with the promise of a captaincy. He
+was to marry Mercedes. It was at supper on the evening of the betrothal
+when soldiers came to arrest him. He was accused of having carried
+letters to Napoleon, at Elba. In vain did he assert and even prove his
+innocence before de Villefort, a magistrate. Edmond Dantes was torn from
+his betrothed, and imprisoned for fourteen years in the Chateau d'If.
+
+Another prisoner was there, the Abbe Faria. This prisoner was supposed
+to be mad, because he had offered to buy his liberty with millions. The
+Abbe imparted to Dantes the secret of the treasure concealed by the
+Spadas in the caverns of the island of Monte-Cristo, a desolate rock in
+the Mediterranean. And this was not all, the old man had also imparted
+other secrets to his young companion.
+
+And now Dantes was master of the treasure of the Spadas, and he started
+to find his old father and his fiancee. He swore to avenge himself on
+those who had betrayed him. He left the rock. He went to his father's
+house. His father had died of hunger. Mercedes, his fiancee, was married
+to another--to one of the three men who had woven the plot that had cost
+Dantes fourteen years of his youth. One was named Danglars, a rival
+claimant to the title of captain. The second was a drunken man, more
+weak than wicked. The third was Fernando Mondego, a fisherman, who loved
+Mercedes. And it was this Fernando who had married Mercedes, and was now
+known by the title of the Comte de Morcerf. Caderousse, still poor, kept
+a wine shop, and Danglars was one of the first bankers in Paris.
+
+Another enemy, and perhaps the most infamous of them all, was the
+magistrate, de Villefort, who, knowing the innocence of Dantes, had
+nevertheless sentenced him to prison. Because Dantes in his explanation
+used the name of Noirtier, who was the father of Villefort, and said
+that the letters he brought from the island of Elba were given to him by
+this man, de Villefort, lest his own position should be compromised, got
+rid of this person as soon as possible, and sent him to the Chateau d'If
+for fourteen years.
+
+These were the crimes that Dantes swore to punish. He did so. Danglars
+the banker he ruined. Fernando the fisherman, known when Dantes returned
+as the Comte de Morcerf, was accused in the Chamber of Peers of having
+betrayed Ali-Pacha of Jamna, and of selling his daughter Haydee to a
+Turkish merchant. His infamy was proved by Haydee herself, and Fernando
+Mondego was for ever dishonored. The wretched man, knowing that the blow
+came from Monte-Cristo, went to him to provoke a quarrel. Then
+Monte-Cristo said to him:
+
+"Look me full in the face, Fernando, and you will understand the whole.
+I am Edmond Dantes." And the man fled. Within an hour he blew out his
+brains.
+
+Then came the turn of de Villefort. His wife, a perverse creature, to
+ensure an inheritance to her son, committed several murders with
+poisons. De Villefort himself had buried a child alive, the child of
+Madame Danglars and himself. But the child was saved by a Corsican,
+Bertuccio. The child, born of crime, had the most criminal instincts.
+And one day Monte-Cristo found him in the prison at Toulon. He named him
+Benedetto. He assisted him to escape, and Benedetto assassinated
+Caderousse. And then Benedetto, tried for this murder, found himself
+face to face with his father Villefort, the Procureur de Roi. Benedetto
+loudly flung his father's crimes in his face, and Villefort fled from
+the court-room. When he reached home Villefort found that his wife had
+poisoned herself and his son, the only being he loved. And then
+Monte-Cristo appeared before him and told him his real name, Edmond
+Dantes! Villefort became insane.
+
+And the work of vengeance was complete. Monte-Cristo was so rich that he
+was all-powerful. And yet he was terribly sad, for he was alone. Then
+it was that the gentle Haydee consoled him. To their son they gave the
+name of Esperance. And Haydee was dead! Esperance was dead!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Ten years had elapsed since that awful night when Monte-Cristo, with
+blanched hair, carried away the body of his only son.
+
+A man stood alone on a rock on the island of Monte-Cristo. And this man
+was Edmond Dantes. For ten years he had lived on this rock. In all that
+time he had not seen a human face nor heard a human voice, except at
+rare intervals when some ship, driven from her course by contrary winds,
+sent her boats to this island for water. Then Monte-Cristo, concealing
+himself, watched these men and heard their joyous laughter.
+
+Once, when Monte-Cristo had been on the rock eight years, he saw a ship
+coming toward it at full sail. It was not driven there by contrary winds
+or by a storm, and Monte-Cristo saw a man on deck surveying the island
+through a glass. Concealing himself he saw several men, whom he did not
+know, land, and search the island.
+
+It will be remembered that long before, Ali and Bertuccio had, by their
+master's orders, blown up the grottos, the last vestiges of the Spada
+treasures.
+
+He saw these men sound the rocks and try them with pickaxes. They were
+adventurers, who knew something of what the island had contained, but
+yet they found nothing. Monte-Cristo contrived to get near them without
+their knowledge. They were disputing, one insisting that the treasure
+was "there," and he laid his finger on a plan he had drawn.
+
+"Have you not heard," said the other, "that the island was inhabited?"
+
+"Sailors say that they often see at sunset a tall form on these rocks."
+
+"An optical delusion."
+
+"No--these sailors know what they say, but Italians are inclined to
+carry their religion into everything, so they call this form the Abbe of
+Monte-Cristo."
+
+"We have not found him, and yet we have searched every corner."
+
+"He may be dead."
+
+"That may be, but surely this is a proof that no such treasures ever
+existed here, for if they had, he would not remain here to die of
+hunger!"
+
+"At all events we will make a sacrifice to the unknown God, as the
+ancients did."
+
+And they put together all the provisions they had--bread, fruit and
+wine--and with the point of a dagger they traced on the rock the words:
+
+"For the Abbe of Monte-Cristo!"
+
+Then they departed.
+
+"Poor fools!" said the Count, as he watched the fast lessening sails.
+"No, there is no treasure on this island save one, and that would be
+valueless to you!"
+
+Monte-Cristo had lived all these years on roots and bark, for he had
+sworn never to touch money again while he lived.
+
+On the night when we again find Monte-Cristo, he came down from the high
+rock by a narrow path which led to a platform. Here he stooped and
+turned over a flat stone, which left a dark cavity exposed. Into this
+place Monte-Cristo descended by steps cut in the rock. He reached a
+square room cut out of the granite. In the centre stood a marble
+sarcophagus, and there lay Esperance. The living was paler than the
+dead. Monte-Cristo laid his hand on that of his son.
+
+"Esperance," he said, solemnly, "has not the day arrived?"
+
+There was a long silence. Then--was it a reality? It seemed as if the
+lips moved and pronounced the word:
+
+"Come!"
+
+Monte-Cristo smiled.
+
+"I knew it!" he murmured.
+
+His face was transfigured, his white hair was like a halo about his
+head.
+
+"I am coming, my son!" he said. "I must first finish my task."
+
+He drew from his pocket a roll of parchment, and read it aloud:
+
+
+  "MY LAST WILL AND TESTAMENT.
+
+  "Let those who find this paper read it with coolness. Let them be on
+  their guard against the surprises of their imagination. The man who is
+  about to die, and whose name is signed to these lines, has been more
+  powerful than the most powerful on earth. He has suffered as never man
+  suffered. He has loved as never man loved! He has hated as well.
+
+  "Suffering, love and hatred have all passed away--all is forgotten,
+  all is dead within him except the memory of the child he adored and
+  lost.
+
+  "This man possessed wealth greater than any sovereign. And this man
+  dies in poverty. He so willed it that he might punish himself. He
+  chose the wrong. He wished to bend all wills to his. He elected
+  himself judge and meted out punishment. The wrongs he avenged were not
+  social evils, they were private and his own. He bows low in penitence,
+  that he did not employ his great fortune in doing good. He dies in
+  poverty, though possessed of untold millions. He designates no heir,
+  for he cannot feel that the most upright man may not become guilty
+  when he knows himself to be all-powerful. He has, however, no right to
+  destroy this wealth. It exists, though concealed. He bequeaths it to
+  that power which men call Providence. It will bear this paper, and
+  place in the hands of man these mysterious signs.
+
+  "Will the treasure be discovered?
+
+  "Whoever reads this paper will, if he be wise, destroy it. And yet it
+  may be that this colossal fortune will fall into the hands of a man
+  who will finish the work that I have begun better than I could have
+  done.
+
+  "May whoever finds this paper heed the last words of a dying man.
+
+  "THE ABBE DANTES.
+
+  "_February 25th, 1865._"
+
+
+Below this signature was a singular design. Monte-Cristo studied it.
+
+"Yes, it is right," he said. "Ah! Faria, may your treasure fall into
+worthier hands than mine!"
+
+He felt strangely faint. He laid his hand on his heart. "Yes,
+Esperance," he said, softly, "I come!"
+
+He took up a crystal cube, which was solid enough to resist a shock of
+any kind. He folded the paper, and placed it in the cube, sealing it
+carefully. Then once more he ascended the stairs, and stood under the
+starlit sky.
+
+Monte-Cristo went down to the shore. He raised the crystal cube above
+his head, and threw it with all his strength. He heard it drop into the
+water. Monte-Cristo's secret was given to the waves. Then he turned, and
+slowly retraced his steps.
+
+As he went down the stairs his strength seemed to leave him. He lay down
+next to Esperance. He crossed his arms on his breast. Upon his lips was
+a smile of ineffable peace. His eyes closed. He was at rest.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Those who loved him often utter his name, and wipe away a tear as they
+speak of him. But they never knew where he, who was known as Edmond
+Dantes, Count of Monte-Cristo, died.
+
+
+THE END
+
+
+
+
+Transcriber's Note: Spelling, accents and punctuation have been
+changed for consistency. Variations in the use of hyphens have
+been retained as in the original. The unexpected use of Nechar,
+perhaps instead of Necker, and Ali-Pacha of Jamna, perhaps
+instead of Ali Pasha of Janina, also have been retained.
+
+
+
+
+
+End of Project Gutenberg's The Son of Monte Cristo, by Jules Lermina
+
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