The Son of Monte-Cristo, Volume II
Page 6
CHAPTER VI
THE PERFORMANCE
While the marquis and Simon were starting on their journey, Robeckal andRolla had met on the country road as appointed, and in a long whisperedconversation had made their plans. They both hated Girdel, Caillette,Fanfaro and Bobichel, and their idea was to kill both Girdel and Fanfarothat very evening. Caillette could be attended to afterward, andBobichel was of no importance. Rolla loved Robeckal, as far as it waspossible for a person like her to love any one, and desired to possesshim. Robeckal, on his side, thought it would not be a bad idea topossess Girdel's business along with its stock, with which heungallantly reckoned Rolla and Caillette. Caillette especially headmired, but he was smart enough not to say a word to Rolla.
"Enter, ladies and gentlemen, enter," exclaimed Bobichel, as he stood atthe box-office and cordially greeted the crowds of people.
"I wonder whether she will come?" muttered Caillette to herself.
"Everything is ready," whispered Robeckal to Rolla; the Cannon Queennodded and threw dark scowls at Girdel and Fanfaro.
The quick gallop of a horse was now heard, and the next minute Irene deSalves stepped into the booth.
"Really, she has come," muttered Caillette in a daze, as she pressed herhand to her heart and looked searchingly at Fanfaro.
The latter looked neither to the right nor left. He was busy arrangingGirdel's weights and iron poles, and Caillette, calmed by the sight,turned around.
When Irene took her seat a murmur ran through the crowded house. TheSalves had always occupied an influential position in the country; thegreat estate of the family insured them power and influence at court,and they were closely attached to the monarchy.
Irene's grandfather, the old Count of Salves, had been guillotined in1793; his son had served under Napoleon, and was killed in Russia whenhis daughter had hardly reached her third year. The count's loss struckthe countess to the heart; she retired to her castle in the neighborhoodof Remiremont and attended to the education of her child.
Irene grew up, and when she often showed an obstinacy and wildnessstrange in a girl, her mother would say, with tears in her eyes:
"Thank God, she is the picture of her father."
That nothing was done under the circumstances to curb Irene'simpetuosity is easily understood. Every caprice of the young heiress wassatisfied, and so it came about that the precocious child ruled thecastle. She thought with money anything could be done, and more thanonce it happened that the young girl while hunting trod down thepeasants' fields, consoling herself with the thought:
"Mamma gives these people money, and therefore it is all right."
When Irene was about fifteen years old her mother became dangerouslyill, and remained several months in bed. She never recovered the use ofher limbs, and day after day she remained in her arm-chair, only livingin the sight of her daughter. When Irene entered the room the poormother thought the sun was rising, and she never grew tired of lookingin her daughter's clear eyes and listening to her silvery voice. Themost singular contradictions reigned in Irene's soul; she could havecried bitterly one minute, and laughed aloud the next; for hours at atime she would sit dreaming at the window, and look out at the autumnalforest scenery, then spring up, hurry out, jump into the saddle andbound over hill and valley. Sometimes she would chase a beggar from thedoor, the next day overload him with presents; she spent nights at thebedside of a sick village child, and carried an old woman at the risk ofher life, from a burning house; in short, she was an original.
A few months before, the lawyer who administered the countess's fortunehad appeared at the castle and had locked himself up with her mother.When he left the castle the next day, the young lady was informed thatshe was to be married off, and received the news with the greatestunconcern. She did not know her future husband, the Vicomte de Talizac,but thought she would be able to get along with him. That she would haveto leave her castle and her woods displeased her; she had never had theslightest longing for Paris, and the crowded streets of the capital wereintolerable to her; but seeing that it must be she did not complain.
It was a wild caprice which had induced the young girl to attendGirdel's performance; Fanfaro's lecture had angered her at first, butlater on, when she thought about it, she had to confess that he wasright. She was now looking expectantly at the young man, who was engagedwith Bobichel in lighting the few lamps, and when he drew near to her,she whispered to him:
"Monsieur Fanfaro, are you satisfied with me?"
Fanfaro looked at her in amazement, but a cordial smile flew over hislips, and Irene felt that she could stand many more insults if she couldsee him smile oftener.
Madame Ursula, who sat next to her pupil, moved up and down uneasily inher chair. Irene did not possess the least _savoir vivre_. How could shethink of addressing the young acrobat? and now--no, it surpassedeverything--he bent over her and whispered a few words in her ear. Thegoverness saw Irene blush, then let her head fall and nod. What could hehave said to her?
Caillette, too, had noticed the young lady address Fanfaro, and shebecame violently jealous.
What business had the rich heiress with the young man, whom she wasaccustomed to look upon as her own property?
For Caillette, as well as Madame Ursula, it was fortunate that they hadnot heard Fanfaro's words, and yet it was only good advice which theyoung man had given Irene.
"Mademoiselle, try to secure the love of those who surround you," he hadearnestly said. And Irene had, at first impatiently and withastonishment, finally guiltily, listened to him. Really, when shethought with what indifference her coming and going in the village waslooked upon, and with what hesitation she was greeted, she began tothink Fanfaro was right; the young man had been gone long, and yet hiswords still sounded in her ears. Yes, she would try to secure love.
In the meantime the performance had begun. Girdel played with hisweights, Rolla swallowed stones and pigeons, Robeckal knives and swords,and Caillette danced charmingly on the tight-rope. During all thesedifferent productions, Fanfaro was continually assisting the performers;he handed Girdel the weights and took them from him; he accompaniedRobeckal's sword exercise with hollow beats on a tambourine; he playedthe violin while Caillette danced on the rope, and acted as Bobichel'sfoil in his comic acts. Fanfaro himself was not to appear before thesecond part; for the conclusion of the first part a climax was to begiven in which Girdel would perform a piece in which he had everywhereappeared with thunders of applause; the necessary apparatus was beingprepared.
This apparatus consisted of a plank supported by two logs which stoodupright in the centre of the circus. In the centre of the plank was awindlass, from which hung an iron chain with a large hook.
Fanfaro rolled an empty barrel under the plank and filled it with ironsand stones weighing about three thousand pounds. Thereupon the barrelwas nailed up and the chain wound about it; strong iron rings, throughwhich the chain was pulled, prevented it from slipping off.
Girdel now walked up. He wore a costume made of black tights, and achin-band from which an iron hook hung. He bowed to the spectators,seized the barrel with his chin hook and laid himself upon his back.Fanfaro stood next to his foster-father, and from time to time blew ablast with his trumpet. At every tone the heavy cask rose a few inchesin the air, and breathlessly the crowd looked at Girdel's performance.The cask had now reached a height on a level with Girdel; the spectatorscheered, but suddenly an ominous breaking was heard, and while a cry ofhorror ran through the crowd, Fanfaro, quick as thought, sprung upon thecask and caught it in his arms.
What had happened? Girdel lay motionless on the ground. Fanfaro let theheavy cask glide gently to the floor and then stood pale as death nearthe athlete. The chain had broken, and had it not been for Fanfaro'stimely assistance Girdel would have been crushed to pieces by the heavybarrel.
The violent shock had thrown Girdel some distance away. For a moment allwere too frightened to stir, but soon spectators from all parts of thehouse came running u
p and loud cries were heard.
Caillette had thrown herself sobbing at her father's feet; Bobichel andFanfaro busied themselves trying to raise the fallen man from theground, and Rolla uttered loud, roaring cries which no doubt wereintended to express her grief. Robeckal alone was not to be seen.
"Oh, Fanfaro, is he dead?" sobbed Caillette.
Fanfaro was silent and bent anxiously over Girdel; Rolla, on the otherhand, looked angrily at the young man and hissed in his ear:
"Do not touch him. I will restore him myself."
Instead of giving the virago an answer, Fanfaro looked sharply at her.The wretched woman trembled and recoiled, while the young man, puttinghis ear to Girdel's breast, exclaimed:
"Thank God, he lives!"
Caillette uttered a low moan and became unconscious; two soft hands werelaid tenderly on her shoulders, and when the tight-rope dancer openedher eyes, she looked in Irene's face, who was bending anxiously overher.
Girdel still remained motionless; the young countess handed Fanfaro anelegantly carved bottle filled with smelling-salts, but even this was ofno avail.
"Wait, I know what will help him!" exclaimed Bobichel, suddenly, andhurrying out he returned with a bottle of strong brandy.
With the point of a knife Fanfaro opened Girdel's tightly compressedlips; the clown poured a few drops of the liquid down his throat, and ina few moments Girdel slowly opened his eyes and a deep sigh came fromhis breast. When Bobichel put the bottle to his mouth again, he drank adeep draught.
"Hurrah, he is rescued!" exclaimed the clown, as he wiped the tears fromhis eyes. He then walked to Rolla and mockingly whispered: "This timeyou reckoned without your host."
Rolla shuddered, and a look flew from Bobichel to Fanfaro.
Robeckal now thought it proper to appear and come from behind a post. Hesaid in a whining voice:
"Thank God that our brave master lives. I dreaded the worst."
Schwan, who was crying like a child, threw a sharp look at Robeckal, andFanfaro now said:
"Is there no physician in the neighborhood?"
"No, there is no physician in Sainte-Ame, and Vagney is several milesdistant."
"No matter, I shall go to Vagney."
"Impossible, the floods have destroyed all the roads; you risk yourlife, Fanfaro," said Schwan.
"And if that is so, I am only doing my duty," replied the young man. "Iowe it to my foster-father that I did not die of cold and starvation."
"You are an honest fellow. Take one of my horses and ride around thehill. It is certainly an out-of-the-way road, but it is safe. Do notspare the horse; it is old, but when driven hard it still does itsduty."
"Monsieur Fanfaro," said Irene, advancing, "take my riding horse; itflies like the wind, and will carry you to Vagney in a short time."
"She is foolish," complained Madame Ursula, while Fanfaro acceptedIrene's offer without hesitating; "the riding horse is an Englishthoroughbred and cost two thousand francs."
No one paid any attention to her. Fanfaro swung himself into the saddle,and, throwing a cloak over his shoulders, he cordially said:
"Mademoiselle, I thank you."
"Don't mention it; I am following your advice," laughed Irene.