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diff --git a/26216-h/26216-h.htm b/26216-h/26216-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..1a2d74f --- /dev/null +++ b/26216-h/26216-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,16017 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"> + <head> + <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> + <style type="text/css"> +/*<![CDATA[ XML blockout */ +<!-- + p { margin-top: .75em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .75em; + } + h1,h2,h3 { + text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ + clear: both; + } + hr { width: 33%; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + clear: both; + } + + table {margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;} + + body {margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; + } + + .pagenum { /* uncomment the next line for invisible page numbers */ + /* visibility: hidden; */ + position: absolute; + left: 92%; + font-size: smaller; + text-align: right; + } /* page numbers */ + + .blockquot {margin-left: 5%; margin-right: 10%;} + + .bb {border-bottom: solid 2px;} + .bl {border-left: solid 2px;} + .bt {border-top: solid 2px;} + .br {border-right: solid 2px;} + .bbox {border: solid 2px;} + + .center {text-align: center;} + .smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + .u {text-decoration: underline;} + + .footnotes {border: dashed 1px;} + .footnote {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-size: 0.9em;} + .footnote .label {position: absolute; right: 84%; text-align: right;} + .fnanchor {vertical-align: super; font-size: .8em; text-decoration: none;} + + .mynote { background-color: #DDE; color: black; padding: .5em; margin-left: 5%; + margin-right: 5%; } /* colored box for notes at beginning of file */ + + // --> + /* XML end ]]>*/ + </style> + </head> +<body> + + +<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> </p> +<h3><small>SEQUEL TO</small></h3> +<p> </p> +<h2><span class="smcap">The Wife of Monte-Cristo</span>,</h2> +<p> </p> +<h3><small>AND END OF THE CONTINUATION TO</small> +<br /> +ALEXANDER DUMAS' CELEBRATED NOVEL OF</h3> +<p> </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. 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.</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.—1884.</p> + +<p class="center">T. B. PETERSON & 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 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.</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. 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.</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'>HAYDÉE, 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.—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 FRANÇOISE</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—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 SAUTÉ</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 & 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> </p> +<h3>SEQUEL TO</h3> +<p> </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—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—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 Irène 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>HAYDÉE, 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, 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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[Pg 24]</a></span></p><p>"Sister," said Mercédès 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 Haydée 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, Mercédès; 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>Haydée made no reply, but continued to gaze dreamily into space. +Mercédès, 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>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 <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, Haydée 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 manœuvre 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>"'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!'</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 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!'</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 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."</p> + +<p>"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!"</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—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—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.</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 +Bâle. 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—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:</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—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—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 régime</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—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 régime</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 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 <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 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:</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—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 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.</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 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.</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——"</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——" 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——"</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—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—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—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 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.</p> + +<p>"'These lovely children are yours?' I asked.</p> + +<p>"'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?'</p> + +<p>"'One moment—you have not introduced yourself.'</p> + +<p>"'I am called Simon,' he answered with a frown.</p> + +<p>"'Simon—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—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—"</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 Françoise 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—"</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 emigrés, 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—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—but I did at all events as I promised you to +do—"</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—"</p> + +<p>"Very good; but your wound—"</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—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—"</p> + +<p>"Oh! it is nothing of any consequence—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>"Françoise, 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—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—what am I to do with her?" asked Françoise, 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—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 emigrés have dared——"</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—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?"</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 Françoise 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. Françoise 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!—I am that man—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—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—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—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 Françoise, 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 FRANÇOISE.</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 Françoise, "you must know all. I saw that Austrian +officer from the window, and recognized him—"</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—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—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."</p> + +<p>"Poor little Jacques!" said Françoise, 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—"</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 Fougère wished to make reparation for the crime +of the Vicomte de Talizac?"</p> + +<p>"Because Simon Fougère 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 Françoise.</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 Lasvène—"</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. Lasvène 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>Françoise 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—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!"</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—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—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 Lasvène:</p> + +<p>"Simon is fighting for France. Will you give us shelter?"</p> + +<p>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.</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—a small one—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>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.</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—it was at that hour that Simon died—a +pistol shot scattered the straw on the roof of the hut.</p> + +<p>Lasvène 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 Françoise, pale as death, clutched her +little girl to her breast.</p> + +<p>"They are only going by," said Lasvène. "They know there is nothing to +pillage here."</p> + +<p>Lasvène 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 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?</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"We are lost!" thought Lasvène.</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 Lasvène, and an officer fell. Jacques handed him the other +gun, and loaded the first.</p> + +<p>Again a Cossack fell.</p> + +<p>Françoise 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>Françoise 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 Françoise.</p> + +<p>Then Lasvène 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 Lasvène, "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. 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.</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 Françoise.</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>Lasvène 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 Françoise dragged herself forward and fanned the flames with her +dying breath.</p> + +<p>"Brave woman!" cried Lasvène. "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>Françoise and old Lasvène 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. Lasvène had not thought of that.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"Can you walk, dear?" he said.</p> + +<p>"No—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—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.</p> + +<p>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.</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 château +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—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—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—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—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.</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 Rémisemont far from here?"</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[Pg 98]</a></span></p><p>"Rémisemont! 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——"</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 Rémisemont."</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—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—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—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 Rémisemont +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 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.</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 Irène, 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 château +alone!"</p> + +<p>The dear Madame Ursula was a tall, thin woman, wearing blue glasses. She +was evidently a companion or governess.</p> + +<p>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 <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>Irène 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—"</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>Irène started. Caillette smiled and blushed.</p> + +<p>"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?"</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>Irène 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 Irène, "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 Irène's eyes, and started.</p> + +<p>"Will you give these few louis to the poor?" added Irène, "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. Irène +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 Irène was already in her saddle.</p> + +<p>The governess continued:</p> + +<p>"The Comtesse expected—"</p> + +<p>"Never mind that! And now, John, to the Château at once," said Irène, +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—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—"</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 +manœuvering 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.</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—by the way, what about Mademoiselle de Salves?"</p> + +<p>"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."</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 Irène 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>régime</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—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—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——"</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—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, <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—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!"</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 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 <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[Pg 116]</a></span>occupied became the scene of +perpetual fêtes 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 hôtel 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—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—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 Amé.</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—"</p> + +<p>"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."</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 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.</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 Irène 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 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.</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 +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 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. 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.</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—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—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 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.</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 Irène.</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—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.</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—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.</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>rôle</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 Irène.</p> + +<p>"Will you give these salts to Monsieur Fanfar?" said Irène.</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 Irène, "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 Irène'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—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—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—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—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—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—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—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?"</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——"</p> + +<p>"Go on, sir."</p> + +<p>"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!"</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—I, the lacquey of +your father, reply: Cain! you are stained with the blood of your +brother—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——"</p> + +<p>"Be silent!" cried the Marquis.</p> + +<p>"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 <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—the son of Simon de Fongereues is living!"</p> + +<p>"And if he be dead—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—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—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, Cliepé! 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-Amé.</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>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:</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>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:</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>Irène 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—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—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—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 Irène'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 +Rémisemont."</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—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—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—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?"</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—'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—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 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.</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—"</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—son—"</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 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."</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—he taught a school—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—"</p> + +<p>"Well?"</p> + +<p>"Is the son of Simon Fougère—the son of my brother!"</p> + +<p>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.</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 Rémisemont," 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 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."</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 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.</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—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—' Where was he going? +Oh! for the police—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—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—wake my father at once!"</p> + +<p>"He is so weary, and needs rest."</p> + +<p>"It is a question of your liberty—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—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—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—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—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—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!"</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—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—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—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—enemies of the monarchy!"</p> + +<p>"You are greatly mistaken, Brigadier—"</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—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—1824.</h3> + + +<p>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.</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 café.</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 hôtels 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 café had its special customers. The +Bonapartists went to one, foreigners to another—the <i>Mille +Colonnes</i>—speculators to the <i>Café de Fois</i>, and so on. The <i>Café 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 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:</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 hôtel, 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—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—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!"</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—I bought it."</p> + +<p>"You—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—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 fête, 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—only a ribbon. I told Irène 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 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—"</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>Café de Valois</i> at this +hour—"</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—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—by the way, why is +she called by that name!—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—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 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.</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 Fougère and Françoise. 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—a husband, wife and children—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 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.</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 Françoise, 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—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—"</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!—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—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—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—"</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 fête days. I am an 'extra,' you understand, +and am now at the <i>Veau Sauté</i>, at the corner. You know—"</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—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—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 SAUTÉ.</h3> + + +<p>"Hurry up, Perrette! How about that sauce? Have you forgotten the +parsley?"</p> + +<p>And the proprietor of the <i>Veau Sauté</i> 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 +<i>éclat</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 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 <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—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—"</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—that is all."</p> + +<p>Arthur looked bewildered, and then exclaimed:</p> + +<p>"Ah! I see. Bravo!—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. Aubé 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 café?" asked Frederic, +abruptly.</p> + +<p>"She is called the Marquise, sir—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>Aubé 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—three louis, five—is +that enough?"</p> + +<p>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. <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>Aubé 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—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>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.</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>Aubé'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—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—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 Aubé, 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 Aubé 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>Aubé, 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 Aubé 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>Aubé 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 Aubé.</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, Aubé 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—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 Aubé.</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 Aubé. 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>Aubé 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 Aubé:</p> + +<p>"Make haste, the girl has been carried off by the order of these people! +I know what I say!"</p> + +<p>Aubé hastened to his private rooms; he found the door that led to the +stairs unlocked and open.</p> + +<p>"What scoundrels they are!" cried Aubé.</p> + +<p>"Yes," answered Montferrand, "but scoundrels who bear the best names in +France—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 Aubé."</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;—the Vicomte de Talizac—"</p> + +<p>"I knew it!" murmured Fanfar.</p> + +<p>"And his friend, Fernando de Vellebri—"</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—</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 Aubé.</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 Aubé. "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—"</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—who detest a despotic monarchy and demand a +free and honest republic!"</p> + +<p>"Do you speak of yourself?" asked Montferrand, quickly.</p> + +<p>Aubé 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 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.</p> + +<p>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.</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—"</p> + +<p>"A den!" gasped Aubé.</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 Aubé 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—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—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—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 Sauté</i>."</p> + +<p>"And that Aubé 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—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—you will probably think me +mad—but I am convinced that the girl who was carried off—the one +called Cinette—"</p> + +<p>"You mean that you believe her to be your—"</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—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 +Fougère, 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 Françoise, and I am the widow of Simon +Fougère."</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—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 Françoise 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—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 Françoise, 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—"</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—"</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 & 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—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—I may need your services. Take your +position behind that portière."</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—if he has committed some peccadillo——"</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 portière 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—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—the Marquis de Montferrand—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—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—shall bring the sum required. I +desire that you shall leave me alone in the house with——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—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—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—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 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.</p> + +<p>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.</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>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:</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? 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.</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>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.</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 Irène 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 Irène, 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 Irène 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 Irène. "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>Irène 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 Irène, 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 Irène. "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 Hôtel 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 +emigrés avenged themselves on French flesh and blood, and French homes +and firesides.</p> + +<p>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.</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 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.</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 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.</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 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.</p> + +<p>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:</p> + +<p>"In other days, in Simon Fougère'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—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—come; you must not be naughty!"</p> + +<p>It was plain to Labarre who this person was—he <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_251" id="Page_251">[Pg 251]</a></span>had heard her voice +before. But this girl—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—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—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—the inn does as well as +possible."</p> + +<p>"Françoise Fougère!" he cried.</p> + +<p>Françoise started up, as if sustained by supernatural strength.</p> + +<p>"Who calls me?" she cried. "Who is it that speaks my name?"</p> + +<p>"Françoise, do you remember Simon, Jacques, Cinette?"</p> + +<p>"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!"</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. Françoise 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—where is my box?"</p> + +<p>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 <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—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 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 <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_255" id="Page_255">[Pg 255]</a></span>by seeing Françoise 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—yes—Jacques. I must save Jacques and the box!"</p> + +<p>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 <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 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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"Ah! she is going to the little farm of Lasvène which was burned," said +Pierre to himself.</p> + +<p>Then, all the time watching Françoise, he began to question Caillette.</p> + +<p>What motive had Françoise in these persistent wanderings? Was it merely +the whim of a mad woman or had she some fixed design?</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>An hour elapsed, but Françoise 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>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.</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 +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:</p> + +<p>"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.</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 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!"</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. +Irène was indefatigable in her care, and finally she began to recover +very slowly.</p> + +<p>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.</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 Irène, 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>Irène 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>Irène 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—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—'"</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>Irène 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>Irène colored, as she said, "He is handsome!"</p> + +<p>"With black eyes, and brown curling hair?"</p> + +<p>Irène 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>Irène 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>Irène 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>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.</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 Irène, 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 Irène'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 Irène, 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—"</p> + +<p>"I do not understand you."</p> + +<p>"He is one of those clowns who amused the peasants at Saint Amé."</p> + +<p>"His name! his name!" cried Irène, impatiently.</p> + +<p>"I don't know his name. He wore a gray hat—"</p> + +<p>"Bobichel! It must be Bobichel!"</p> + +<p>Irène 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>Irène went forward.</p> + +<p>"You come from him?" she said, hastily.</p> + +<p>"From Fanfar? Oh! no—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—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>Irène 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—Simon Fougère.</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 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.'</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—to-morrow, perhaps—my fate will be decided. Do not +despair."</p></blockquote> + + +<p>Tears filled Irène'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>Irène extended her hand, and the clown knelt to kiss it.</p> + +<p>"But we must save him!" cried Irène. "He shall not be condemned—"</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. Irène ran to +her side.</p> + +<p>"Courage! sister," she cried, "courage!"</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"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!"</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—"</p> + +<p>"It is most ingenious," said Irène, 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—that is, when you have any, you know—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 Irène 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 +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?</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—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—can you be this man?"</p> + +<p>Fongereues started to his feet.</p> + +<p>"Yes—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—a work like this is +magnificent."</p> + +<p>"I belong to you, heart and soul," said Fongereues, "and to-morrow—"</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—"</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!—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—"</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—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—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—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. +Irène 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 emigrés. 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 +Fougère, 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>Irène 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—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—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—"</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—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 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.</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—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—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—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—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—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 Lemaître 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 hôtel 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>—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 Irène 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—I have it still."</p> + +<p>"Now, if you are not afraid of a little dampness, I will show you +something."</p> + +<p>Irène 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 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.</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 Irène. He opened another door after +pushing several bolts.</p> + +<p>"Up with you!" he cried, "you have company!"</p> + +<p>Notwithstanding all her courage, Irène started back.</p> + +<p>"Have no fear, Mademoiselle," said Iron Jaws, "he is a ferocious beast, +but he is chained!"</p> + +<p>Irène 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 Irène, "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—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 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?"</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>Irène 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 Irène.</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 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.</p> + +<p>"Oh! master," he cried, "all is lost! There is to be an autopsy. One of +the great physicians advises it."</p> + +<p>Irène 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 Irène'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>Irène 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—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—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—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 Hôtel 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 hôtel +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—I am not worthy of France—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 château, 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 rôle. 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—Françoise 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—Irène 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 Irène 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 hôtel Fongereues, a +mysterious note had been sent to Irène, 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 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:</p> + +<p>"I am glad you came, for you love him."</p> + +<p>Irène pressed her hand; she could not speak.</p> + +<p>Suddenly Irène 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 Françoise 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>Irène 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 Françoise. "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>Irène 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 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.</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 +Fougère."</p> + +<p>Irène 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. 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.</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—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 Mercédès 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—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—I have scattered them from your path. Think only of +making friends for yourself. I have had protégés 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 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.</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 hôtel 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—only—"</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 portière 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—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—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 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.</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 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."</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—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—"</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—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—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—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>soirée</i> to-morrow night."</p> + +<p>"You!"</p> + +<p>"Yes, neither more nor less, and I intend to add to this <i>soirée</i> a +ball."</p> + +<p>"In your atélier?"</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—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—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>soirée</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—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—all tints, +all forms, blended into one original whole.</p> + +<p>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.</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—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>soirée</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—"</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—we will call +it Russia?"</p> + +<p>"But I was told that she had refused to sing in Paris at +present—declined even to go to Compiègne."</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—"</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—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>—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 fête 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 hôtel on the Champs Elysées. 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 fête, 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 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 <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>étourderie</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 Dantès?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"Yes, you are right."</p> + +<p>"And tell me, if you can—excuse the question—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—pray make no inquiries!" said Carmen, eagerly. "But the +terrace—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—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—Jane and Esperance—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 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.</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—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—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."</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—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—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-Elysées.</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 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 <i>à l'Anglaise</i>, its well scrubbed +steps, its parlor on the <i>rez de chaussée</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—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—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,—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—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—Fate separated us. Neither +you nor I desire to awaken all these terrible memories. I now bid you +forget my very existence—"</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—"</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—"</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 hôtel 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—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—"</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—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—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 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.</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—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—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—"</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—"</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 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."</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—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—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 hôtel, which Goutran opened with +a key given him by Esperance. They entered the corridor that led to the +rooms formerly occupied by Haydée.</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—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—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—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—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—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 fête, 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 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.</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—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 <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—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.</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—"</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—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 curé, +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 curé bade me, +and—"</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—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—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—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>à la Russe</i>—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—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——"</p> + +<p>"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!"</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—"</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"—she folded her arms on her breast—"I +ask why you did not marry me?"</p> + +<p>"Good heavens! because—"</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—if not—"</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—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—"</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>soirée</i> last evening, at a name +pronounced by a lacquey you became ghastly pale."</p> + +<p>"You are mistaken—"</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—"</p> + +<p>"And then—"</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—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:</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—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—you and I—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—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—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—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 hôtel on the Champs-Elysées.</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—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—I am very glad you did. You must be very weary. Lie down, and I +will stay here until dawn."</p> + +<p>"No—I am old, I do not require much sleep, while you——"</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—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—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 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 <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 portière, +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>soirée</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—a young girl—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—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."</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>soirée</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—" 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—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—this +Benedetto—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 hôtel, 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——." These were its contents:</p> + + +<blockquote><p>"<span class="smcap">Monsieur Goutran</span>—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."</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 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.</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——"</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—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—and myself, too."</p> + +<p>"Danger!"</p> + +<p>"We must find some means of avoiding it, but your enemies——"</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—but did you +notice an Italian here, the secretary of the Italian Count?"</p> + +<p>"Yes—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>soirée</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—" 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 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."</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 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.</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—"</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 hôtel, 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 hôtel?"</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—"</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 hôtel. 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 Elysées 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 hôtel the +first time he had mechanically put in his pocket a pair of revolvers—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—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—"</p> + +<p>"And robbed you?"</p> + +<p>"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."</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—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.</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—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 hôtel. This +note must be given to his daughter at once."</p> + +<p>"To Miss Carmen, sir?"</p> + +<p>"Precisely; but understand me—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 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.</p> + +<p>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.</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 hôtel of a rich banker about here? Laisangy, I +think, is the name."</p> + +<p>"Almost opposite—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>soirée</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 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:</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—"</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 fête 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——?"</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 fête 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—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—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 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.</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 hôtel 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 hôtel 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—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—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.</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—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 Dantès looked +the day his infamous companion betrayed him at Marseilles. Danglars was +appalled.</p> + +<p>"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.</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—I, who loves—Esperance!"</p> + +<p>Jane opened her eyes quickly.</p> + +<p>"Esperance! Oh! not here—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—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?—I am Esperance. Let us fly, and find our happiness +together. Jane—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 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.</p> + +<p>"It is only I—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 hôtel, 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—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—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—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—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 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.</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—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>forçat</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—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.</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—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.</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 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.</p> + +<p>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.</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—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—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 hôtel, +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! Dantès is free."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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 <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 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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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 <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 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:</p> + +<p>"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.</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 +Dantès! 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 Haydée consoled him. To their son they gave the +name of Esperance. And Haydée 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 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.</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—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."</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—bread, fruit and +wine—and with the point of a dagger they traced on the rock the words:</p> + +<p>"For the Abbé 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—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>—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 Abbé Dantès</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 +Dantès, Count of Monte-Cristo, died.</p> + +<p> </p> + +<h3>THE END</h3> + +<hr style='width: 95%;' /> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's The Son of Monte Christo, by Jules Lermina + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE SON OF MONTE CHRISTO *** + +***** This file should be named 26216-h.htm or 26216-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/2/6/2/1/26216/ + +Produced by Sigal Alon, Hanna Burdon, Fox in the Stars and +the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at +https://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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