by Mór Jókai
CHAPTER II
When the younger of the two men stepped into the street he carried inhis arms a little girl wrapped in a faded red shawl, to whom he wasspeaking encouragingly, in tones loud enough for any passer-by to hear:
"I know the little countess will be able to find her mama's palace; forthere is a fountain in front of it in which there is a stone man with athree-pronged fork, and a stone lady with a fish-tail! Oh, yes; we shallbe sure to find it; and very soon we shall be with mama."
Here the child in his arms began to sob bitterly.
"For heaven's sake, do not weep; do not let your voice be heard,"whispered the young man in her ear.
At this moment a man wearing a coarse blouse, with his cap drawn overhis eyes and a short pipe between his lips, came staggering toward them.The young man, in order to make room for him, pressed close to the wall,whereupon the new-comer, who seemed intoxicated, began in drunken tones:
"Hello, citizen! What do you mean? Do you want me to walk in thegutter?--because you have got on fine boots, and I have only woodensabots! I am a citizen like yourself, and as good as you. We are alike,are n't we?"
The young man now knew with whom he had to deal--a police spy whose dutyit was to watch him. He therefore replied quietly:
"No, we are not alike, citizen; for I have in my arms an unfortunatechild who has strayed from its mother. Every Frenchman respects a childand misfortune. Is not that so, citizen?"
"Yes, that is so, citizen. Let 's have a little conversation about it";and the pretended drunkard seized hold of the young man's mantle todetain him.
"It is very cold," returned the young man. "Instead of talking here,suppose you help me get this child to its home. Go to the nearest cornerand fetch a coach. I will wait here for you."
The blouse-wearer hesitated a moment, then walked toward thestreet-corner, managing, however, to keep an eye on the young man andhis charge. At the corner he whistled in a peculiar manner, whereuponthe rumbling of wheels was heard. In a few moments the leather-coveredvehicle drew up beside the curb where the young man was waiting.
"I am very much obliged to you for your kindness, citizen," he said tothe blouse-wearer, who had returned with the coach. "Here," pressing atwenty-sou piece into the man's palm, "is something for your trouble. Iwish you would come with me to help hunt for this little girl's home. Ifyou have time, and will come with me, you shall be paid for yourtrouble."
"Can't do it, citizen; my wife is expecting me at home. Just you trustthis coachman; he will help you find the place. He 's a cleveryouth--are n't you, Peroquin? You have made many a night journey aboutParis, have n't you? See that you earn your twenty francs to-night,too!"
That the coachman was also in the service of the secret police the youngman knew very well; but he did not betray his knowledge by word or mien.
The blouse-wearer now shook hands cordially with the young man, andsaid:
"Adieu, citizen. I beg your pardon if I offended you. I 'll leave younow. I am going to my wife, or to the tavern; who can tell the future?"
He waited until the young man had entered the coach with his charge;then, instead of betaking himself to his wife or to the tavern, hecrossed the street, and took up his station in the recess of a doorwayopposite the house with the swinging lantern. . . .
"Where to?" asked the coachman of the young man.
"Well, citizen," was the smiling response, "if I knew that, all would bewell. But that is just what I don't know; and the little countess, here,who has strayed from her home, can't remember the street, nor the numberof the house, in which she lives. She can only remember that her mama'spalace is on a square in which there is a fountain. We must thereforevisit all the fountains in turn until we find the right one."
The coachman made no further inquiries, but climbed to the box, anddrove off in quest of the fountains of Paris.
Two fountains were visited, but neither of them proved to be the rightone. The young man now bade the coachman drive through a certain streetto a third fountain. It was a narrow, winding street--the Rue des BlancsManteaux.
When the coach was opposite a low, one-storied house, the young man drewthe strap, and told the driver he wished to stop for a few moments. Asthe vehicle drew up in front of the house, the door opened, and a tall,stalwart man in top-boots came forth, accompanied by a sturdy dame whoheld a candle, which she protected from the wind with the palm of herhand.
"Is that you, Raoul?" called the young man from the coach window.
There was no response from the giant, who, instead, sprang nimbly to thebox, and, flinging one arm around the astonished coachman, thrust a gaginto his mouth. Before the captive could make a move to defend himself,his fare was out of the coach, and had pinioned his arms behind hisback. The giant and the young man now lifted the coachman from the boxand carried him into the house, the woman followed with the tremblingchild, whom she had carefully lifted from the coach.
In the house, the two men bound their captive securely, first removinghis coat. Then they seated him on the couch, and placed a mirror infront of him.
"You need not be alarmed, citizen," said the man in the top-boots. "Noharm shall come to you. We are only going to copy your face--because ofits beauty, you know!"
The young man also seated himself in front of the mirror, and proceeded,with various brushes and colors, to paint his cheeks and nose a copperhue, exactly like that of the coachman's reflection in the glass. Thenhe exchanged his own peruke and hat for the shabby ones of the coachman.Lastly, he flung around his shoulders the mantle with its seven collars,and the resemblance was complete.
"And now," observed the giant, addressing the captive, "you can restwithout the least fear. At the latest, to-morrow about this time yourcoach, your horses, your mantle, and whatever else belongs to you willbe returned. For the use of the things we have borrowed from you weshall leave in the pocket of your coat twenty francs for every hour, andan extra twenty francs as a _pourboire_; don't forget to look for it!To-morrow at eleven o'clock a girl will fetch milk; she will releaseyou, and you can tell her what a singular dream you had! If you can'tgo to sleep, just repeat the multiplication table. I always do when Ican't sleep, and I never have to go beyond seven times seven. Goodnight, citizen!"
The door of the adjoining room opened, and the woman appeared, leadingby the hand a pretty little boy.
"We are ready," she announced.
The two men thrust pistols into their pockets. Then the woman and thelittle boy entered the coach, the two men took seats on the box, and thecoach rolled away.
