The Son of Monte-Cristo

by Jules Lermina

  CHAPTER XVII.

  ROBECCAL'S IDEA.

  The frequenters of the theatres and circuses of the present day wouldconsider this establishment of Gudel's very modest, with its singlegallery, a little red serge, and its shabby velvet curtain. There was anorchestra, but what an orchestra! All the actors when not occupied onthe stage assisted in it. Gudel at intervals played the trombone. Thegallery was crowded; so crowded that, from time to time, there wereominous crackings, but the people in their excitement did not noticethis.

  But a great silence fell on the spectators, when Irene de Salvesentered. Erect and haughty, she moved through the crowd, with theslightest possible inclination of the head in apology for disturbingthem.

  A word here in regard to this young lady. She was looked upon as a veryeccentric person. Her father had followed Bonaparte's fortunes, and hadfallen in Russia, leaving his widow sole guardian of this girl, thenonly four years of age.

  The Countess, broken-hearted at her loss, shut herself up in thechateau, and devoted herself to her daughter. Irene seemed to haveinherited her father's adventurous spirit, and her mother encouragedrather than restrained it, so great was her joy in the resemblance. Shehad his exuberant vitality, his contempt for danger, and his pride ofrace. Irene, possessing an enormous fortune and accustomed to theindulgence of every caprice, soon began to look upon herself as ofsuperior clay to these peasants who doffed their hats to her as shepassed. She believed in the great power of money, and the Countessencouraged this belief. But illness came, and the Countess was confinedto her sofa by paralysis. She lived now only for her daughter, and itwas the one bright spot in her day when Irene rushed in, bringing withher fresh air and the sweet scents of the woods.

  The child had become a woman, a woman full of contradictions. She was byturns charitable or pitiless, benevolent or disdainful. Sometimes, gayas a child, she rode all over the country--other days she hid herself inthe woods or climbed to some inaccessible height, and there, with ardenteyes, indifferent to the wind that tossed her dark hair, she dreamedthose dreams in which girls delight. She had moods of motivelessirritation, and of unreasonable indulgence. One day a village boy threwa stone at her horse. She pursued him with uplifted whip. Suddenly heturned, and folding his arms, defied her. She laughed aloud, and tossedhim her purse.

  Another time she was told that a fire had destroyed a village. Shehardly seemed to hear. It was winter. In the middle of the night shearose and saddled her horse with her own hands, and rode off to thesufferers, working over them for hours.

  She was not liked--none could tell why. Suddenly she learned, after avisit made by the Notary to her sick mother, that she was to marry theVicomte Talizac. She cared nothing about it one way or the other. If hermother's heart was set upon it she was perfectly willing. The only thingshe disliked in the plan was that she must leave her beautifulmountains. She had never been attracted by Paris, the streets and thepeople frightened her, but she was consoled by the thought that it wouldbe a new world to conquer. On her return to the chateau, the daringwords uttered by Fanfar dwelt in her memory: "Make yourself beloved."She had entered the booth where the exhibition had taken place, in amoment of idle curiosity, and was surprised at the impression made onher by the place and the people. She was greatly irritated withal. Thismountebank, this rope-dancer, had taken a great deal upon himself,certainly. Why had she not answered him as he deserved? What did hemean--"Make yourself beloved"--as if she were not already beloved! Sheremembered the eyes which the peasants riveted on her. Could it be thatthey did not love her? And now she was seated on a wooden bench, MadameUrsula, who had at last arrived, on one side, and on the other a prettybut dirty child, who was playing with the fringe of her dress.

  Meanwhile the entertainment was going on. Gudel gave more than hepromised in his handbill. Before the curtain went up, he called togetherthe members of his troupe, and encouraged them to do their best. LaRoulante went up to him, and to his great amazement said a fewconciliatory words. As Gudel was by no means ill-natured, he shookhands with her. The giantess turned her face toward Robeccal and winkedat him.

  Poor Gudel was very happy in this reconciliation. After all, thingswould go smoothly if he once got rid of Robeccal. Then Caillette kissedhim, in her lace and spangles. Light as a bird, she skipped up to himand whispered in his ear:

  "Am I not lovely to-night, papa?"

  "Adorable!" he answered. He did not know that his darling was comparingherself with Irene.

  Fanfar had his hands full, and seemed so little interested in theaudience that Caillette was enchanted, for in her heart lurked a fearthat 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 LaRoulante the stones which were to form her apparent nutriment. Hewhispered a new witticism to Bobichel, and gave Robeccal some advice asto the manner in which he should hold his sword. Then he took a positionwhere he could see without being seen.

  "Now, Fanfar," said Iron Jaws, "it is your turn! Look out forCaillette!"

  The girl was to execute a new step on the tight-rope, and when sheappeared, led forward by Fanfar, and made the three deep "reverences,"there was a hum of admiration. She was charming--her delicacy wasfairy-like. She lightly placed her foot on Fanfar's hand and sprang uponthe rope. Standing there, she looked at Irene, who was leaning back withan air of indifference.

  Fanfar now took up a violin, and raising the instrument to his shoulder,he began. He played at first very slowly. Caillette, with her armsfolded--she had long before renounced the balancing pole--advanced upthe rope. She knelt, and remained absolutely motionless. Then there camea peremptory summons from the violin. She arose and extended her armsabove her head, and began to dance. Fanfar was an artist, his playingwas wonderful. The music became faster and faster, and Caillette'slittle feet seemed hardly to touch the rope, they twinkled like stars,while Fanfar's bow looked only like a silver thread. He dropped theviolin, and Caillette leaped into his arms. As she touched the ground,she threw at Irene a glance of laughing triumph.

  Then came Robeccal's turn. He was a horrible object when he swallowedthe swords. It was not admiration, it was horror, that he inspired. Heseemed to enjoy this, and had imitated drops of blood on the sabres thathe put down his throat. A few delicate persons shouted "Enough!" andGudel appeared, not as Gudel, be it understood, but as Iron Jaws, theathlete. His enormous shoulders, his bull neck, contrasted with Fanfar'sdelicate form. Gudel tossed heavy weights and bent iron bars, and didall sorts of wonderful things. No one noticed the agility with whichFanfar, in his subordinate _role_, passed these weights to his employer.And now, the principal feat was to be performed. Fanfar rolled a barrelupon the stage, on which already stood a curious apparatus of bars andchains. Over this was a platform. The barrel was placed under thisplatform, and filled with stones. A rim was fitted to this barrel, andit was hoisted a little distance from the ground by a chain. It was thisenormous weight that Gudel was to lift with his teeth.

  Iron Jaws placed himself on this platform.

  Fanfar blew a blast from his trumpet, and Iron Jaws grasped the chain inhis teeth. The barrel moved up and up. The crowd was absolutely silent,this excess of strength inspired them with terror. Suddenly, a strangesound was heard.

  What was it? No one knew. No one had time to see. Gudel lay insensibleon the ground. And Fanfar had caught this barrel in his iron arms. Hadit absolutely fallen, for the chain had broken, nothing could have savedGudel. As it was, the shock deprived him of consciousness. Fanfarhimself could hardly stand.

  Caillette and Bobichel ran to Gudel. La Roulante knelt at his side, anduttered shriek after shriek. Robeccal did not appear.

  The peasants gathered around the injured man. They thought him dead.

  Fanfar drew Caillette away, and then leaned over his friend.

  La Roulante pushed him aside.

  "Don't interfere," she said, "he is my husband."

  Fanfar looked her in the face, and continued his examination. He
openedGudel's vest and shirt, and laid his hand on his heart. There was amoment of silence.

  "He is living," said Fanfar.

  Caillette uttered a little cry, and would have fallen had not a handcaught her. She turned, and saw it was Irene.

  "Will you give these salts to Monsieur Fanfar?" said Irene.

  "Ah! thanks!" cried Fanfar, without waiting for Caillette to give it tohim, and took it, as he spoke, from the young lady's hand.

  "Pshaw! I have something better than that," said Bobichel, and dashingto the inn he returned with a bottle of brandy.

  "Two drops of this," he said, "will do more than all the salts in theworld."

  Fanfar administered a few drops to Gudel, who presently uttered a longsigh.

  "Living!" cried Fanfar.

  "Heaven be praised!" shouted Bobichel. Then, turning swiftly toward LaRoulante, he added,

  "Made a mistake, eh?"

  The giantess started.

  "Ah! he is better," said a treacherous voice. It was Robeccal who spoke.He feared lest his absence would look badly, and he had come back.

  "A physician is wanted," exclaimed Fanfar, turning to Schwann, who wasweeping like a child.

  "There is none in the village, none nearer than Vagney, a league away."

  "Then I will go for him."

  "But the inundation. Fanfar, you can't do it."

  "I must try it, at all events."

  "Monsieur Fanfar," said Irene, "I beg you to take my horse. She is asplendid animal, and goes like the wind!"

  Madame Ursula raised her hands to heaven. "A splendid animal indeed!"she thought, "it cost two thousand francs."

  Caillette wrung her hands in despair.

  "I accept your kindness," answered Fanfar, simply. "You are very good,Mademoiselle, and I thank you."

  "I remembered your words of advice," she replied.

  Fanfar looked at her a moment. Then, passing his hand over his brow, heseemed to try to shake himself together.

  "Let him be carried to the inn, and the doctor shall see him as quicklyas possible," he said.

  The peasants slowly raised the injured man, and as they crossed theSquare, they beheld a singular scene. Bobichel had Robeccal by thethroat, and pressed his knees on his adversary's chest.

  "Ah! Bobichel," cried Schwann, "is this the time to fight?"

  Bobichel rose, and seemed to hesitate, then he flung the scoundrel fromhim, with contempt and loathing.

  Fanfar leaped upon Irene's horse, and dashed off in the direction ofVagney.

  "My father, and he," murmured Caillette, "all that I love and have inthe world."

  And with her handkerchief to her eyes, she followed the sad procession.