CHAPTER IX
THE GRATITUDE OF A NOBLEMAN
Fanfaro was hardly a hundred feet away from Sainte-Ame, when Girdelopened his eyes and looked about him.
"What, my little Caillette is weeping!" he muttered, half-laughing."Child, you probably thought I was dead?"
"Oh, God be praised and thanked!" cried Caillette, springing up andfalling upon her father's neck.
Bobichel almost sprung to the ceiling, and Schwan, between laughing andcrying, exclaimed:
"What a fright you gave us, old boy. The poor fellow rode away in thenight to get a physician, and--"
"A physician? For me?" laughed Girdel. "Thank God, we are not so fargone."
"But you were unconscious more than half an hour; we became frightened,and Fanfaro rode to Vagney."
"He rode? On our old mare, perhaps? If he only returns," said Girdel,anxiously. "The water must be dangerous about Vagney."
"He has a good horse; the Countess of Salves gave Fanfaro herthoroughbred," said Bobichel.
"Ah! that is different. Now, children, let me alone. Cousin Schwan,send me the two men whom I am to bring to Remiremont to-morrow; I mustspeak to them."
Caillette, Bobichel, Schwan and Rolla went away. In the dark corridor afigure passed by Rolla, and a hoarse voice said:
"Well?"
"All for nothing," growled Rolla; "he lives, and is as healthy as a fishin the water."
"You don't say so," hissed Robeckal.
"It was your own fault," continued the virago. "A good stab in the rightplace, and all is over; but you have no courage."
"Silence, woman!" growled Robeckal. "I have attended to that in anotherway; he shall not trouble us long. Tell me, does he ever receive anyletters?"
"A great pile," said Rolla.
"And you cannot tell me their contents?"
"No; I never read them."
This discretion had good grounds. Rolla could not read, but she did notwish to admit it to him. Whether Robeckal suspected how things were, wedo not know; anyhow, he did not pursue the subject any further, butsaid:
"Schwan brought two men to Girdel a little while ago; come with me tothe upper story; we can listen at the door there and find out what theysay."
When Robeckal and Rolla, after listening nearly two hours, slippeddownstairs they had heard all that Girdel and the two gentlemen hadsaid. They knew Fanfaro had been deputed to take important papers toParis and give them to a certain person who had been designated; Girdelhad guaranteed that Fanfaro would fill the mission promptly.
When Robeckal returned to the inn, Simon rushed in pale and trembling.He could hardly reply to the landlord's hurried questions; the words,"In the water--the flood--dead--my poor master!" came from his tremblinglips, and immediately afterward he sank to the floor unconscious.
While Schwan was busy with him, the sound of a horse's hoofs was heard.
"Thank God, here comes Fanfaro!" exclaimed Bobichel and Caillette,simultaneously, and they both rushed to the door.
Who can describe their astonishment when they saw the marquis, drippingwith water and half frozen, get down from the horse and enter the room?
"Where is Fanfaro?" asked Bobichel, anxiously.
"He will soon be here," replied the marquis; "the horse ran away withme, and I could not hold him."
"Then the brave fellow is not injured?" asked Schwan, vivaciously.
"God forbid; quick, give me a glass of brandy and lead me to Girdel; Imust speak to him at once."
While the host went to get the brandy, Simon and the marquis exchangedlooks; the next minute Schwan returned and the nobleman drank a largeglass of brandy at a gulp.
"Ah, that warms," he said, smacking his lips, "and now let us look forGirdel."
As soon as the marquis left the room, Robeckal drew near to the stewardand whispered:
"Follow me, I must speak to you."
They both went into the hall and held a conversation in low tones.
Suddenly a cry of joy reached their ears, and the next minute they sawBobichel, who, in his anxiety about Fanfaro, had hurried along the road,enter the house with the young man.
"There he is," whispered Robeckal, "God knows how it is, but neitherfire nor water seems to have the slightest effect on him."
"We will get rid of him, never fear," said Simon, wickedly.
From the upper story loud cries were heard. Rolla danced with a brandybottle in her hand, and Girdel was asking himself how he ever could havemade such a low woman his wife.
A knock was now heard on his door; Girdel cried, "Come in," in powerfultones, and a man, a stranger to him, crossed the threshold.
"Have I the honor of addressing Monsieur Girdel?" the stranger politelyasked.
"At your service; that is my name."
"I am the Marquis of Fougereuse, and would like to have an interviewwith you."
"Take a seat, my lord marquis, and speak," said Girdel, lookingexpectantly at his visitor.
"I will not delay you long, Monsieur Girdel," the marquis began; "I knowyou have met with a misfortune--"
"Oh, it was not serious," said the athlete.
"Monsieur Girdel," continued the nobleman, "about one hour ago I was inperil of my life, and one of your men rescued me at the risk of his."
"You don't say so? How did it happen?" cried Girdel.
"I was in danger of drowning in the Cure; a young man seized me from outof the turbulent waters and carried me in his arms to a place ofsafety."
"Ah, I understand, the young man of whom you spoke--"
"Was your son, Fanfaro!"
"I thought so," said the athlete; "if Fanfaro is alone only one second,he generally finds time to save somebody. Where is the boy now?"
"He will be here soon. He asked me to get on the back of the horse withhim. I got up first, and hardly had the fiery steed felt some one on hisback than he flew away like an arrow. I was too feeble to check thehorse, and so my rescuer was forced to follow on foot."
"Fanfaro doesn't care for that; he walks miles at a time without gettingtired, and in less than fifteen minutes he will be here."
"Then it is the right time for me to ask you a few questions which I donot wish him to hear. You are probably aware what my position at courtis?"
"Candidly, no; the atmosphere of the court has never agreed with me."
"Then let me tell you that my position is a very influential one, andconsequently it would be easy for me to do something for you andyour--son."
The marquis pronounced the word "son" in a peculiar way, but Girdelshook his head.
"I wish Fanfaro was my son," he sighed; "I know of no better luck."
"If the young man is not your son," said the marquis, "then he wouldneed my assistance the more. His parents are, perhaps, poor people, andmy fortune--"
"Fanfaro has no parents any more, my lord marquis."
"Poor young man!" said the nobleman, pityingly; "but what am I saying?"he interrupted himself with well-played anger. "Fanfaro has no doubtfound a second father in you; I would like to wager that you were afriend of his parents, and have bestowed your friendship upon the son."
"You are mistaken, my lord; I found Fanfaro on the road."
"Impossible! What singular things one hears! Where did you find theboy?"
"Ah! that is an old story, but if it interests you I will relate it toyou: One cold winter day, I rode with my wagon--in which was, besides mystock, my family and some members of my troupe--over a snow-coveredplain in the Vosges, when I suddenly heard loud trumpet tones. At firstI did not pay any attention to them. It was in the year 1814, and suchthings were not uncommon then. However, the tones were repeated, and Ihurried in the direction from whence they proceeded. I shall neverforget the sight which met me. A boy about ten years of age layunconscious over a dead trumpeter, and his small hands were nervouslyclutched about the trumpet. It was plain that he had blown the notes Ihad heard and then fallen to the ground in a faint. I took the poorlittle fellow in my arms; all around lay
the bodies of many Frenchsoldiers, and the terrors of the neighborhood had no doubt been too muchfor the little rogue. We covered him in the wagon with warm cloaks, andbecause the poor fellow had blown such fanfares upon the trumpet, we hadcalled him Fanfaro."
"Didn't he have any name?" asked the marquis, nervously.
"That, my dear sir, wasn't so easy to find out. Hardly had we taken theboy to us than he got the brain-fever, and for weeks lay on the brink ofthe grave. When he at length recovered, he had lost his memory entirely,and only after months did he regain it. At last he could remember thename of the village where he had formerly lived--"
"What was the name of this village?" interrupted the marquis, hurriedly.
"Leigoutte, my lord."
The nobleman had almost uttered a cry, but he restrained himself intime, and Girdel did not notice his guest's terrible excitement.
"His name, too, and those of his parents and sister, we found out aftera time," continued Girdel; "his father's name was Jules, his mother'sLouise, his sister's Louison, and his own Jacques. On the strength ofhis information I went to Leigoutte, but found out very little. Thevillage had been set on fire by the Cossacks and destroyed. Of theinhabitants only a few women and children had been rescued, and the onlypositive thing I heard was that Jacques's mother had been burned todeath in a neighboring farmhouse. The men of Leigoutte had made a standagainst the Cossacks, but had been fairly blown into the air by them. Ireturned home dissatisfied. Fanfaro remained with us; he learned ourtricks, and we love him very much. Where he managed to procure theknowledge he has is a riddle to me; he never went to a regular school,and yet he knows a great deal. He is a genius, my lord marquis, and atreasure for our troupe."
Cold drops of perspiration stood on the nobleman's forehead. No, therewas no longer any doubt: Fanfaro was his brother's son!
"Have you never been able to find out his family name?" he asked, aftera pause.
"No; the Cossacks set fire to the City Hall at Weissenbach and all therecords there were destroyed. An old shepherd said he had once been toldthat Jules was the scion of an old noble family. Anything positive onthis point, I could not find out--I--"
At this point the door was hastily opened and Fanfaro entered. He rushedupon Girdel and enthusiastically cried:
"Thank God, Papa Girdel, that you are well again."
"You rascal, you," laughed Girdel, looking proudly at the young man."You have found time again to rescue some one."
"Monsieur Fanfaro," said the marquis now, "permit me once more to thankyou for what you have done for me. I can never repay you."
"Don't mention it, sir," replied Fanfaro, modestly, "I have only done myduty."
"Well I hope if you should ever need me you will let me know. TheMarquis of Fougereuse is grateful."
When the marquis went downstairs shortly afterward, he found Simonawaiting him.
"Simon," he said, hurriedly, "do you know who Fanfaro is?"
"No, my lord."
"He is the son of my brother, Jules de Fougereuse."
"Really?" exclaimed Simon, joyfully, "that would be splendid."
"Listen to my plan; the young man must die, but under such circumstancesas to have his identity proved, so that Pierre Labarre can be forced tobreak his silence. You understand me, Simon?"
"Perfectly so, my lord; and I can tell you now that I already know themeans and way to do the job. A little while ago a man, whom I can trust,informed me that Fanfaro is going to play a part in the conspiracyagainst the government which I have already spoken to you about."
"So much the better; but can he be captured in such a way that therewill be no outlet for him?"
"I hope so."
"Who gave you this information?" asked the marquis, after Simon had toldhim all that Robeckal had overheard.
"A man called Robeckal; he is a member of Girdel's troupe."
"Good."
The marquis took out a note-book, wrote a few lines, and then said:
"Here, take this note, Simon, and accompany Robeckal at once toRemiremont. There you will go to the Count of Vernac, the policesuperintendent, and give him the note. The count is a faithful supporterof the monarchy, and will no doubt accede to my request to send somepolicemen here this very night to arrest Girdel and Fanfaro. The rest Ishall see to."
"My lord, I congratulate you," said Simon, respectfully.