The Son of Monte-Cristo Volume II Part 37

"Simon, are you mad?"

"No, my lord. I will kill Fanfaro!"

CHAPTER XXII

THE TRIAL

Political trials are in all ages similar; and then, as now, the verdict is decided upon long before the proceedings have begun.

It was only after Fanfaro had been brought to the courtroom that he caught a glimpse of the man who had allowed himself to be used as a tool to set the a.s.sa.s.sination of the king in motion. A contemptuous smile played about the young man's lips when he saw it was Robeckal. The wretch looked like the personification of fear; his knees quaked together, his face was covered with cold perspiration, and his teeth chattered audibly.

Robeckal had been still half intoxicated when he undertook to carry out Simon's proposition to play the regicide. Not until now, when he found himself in the presence of his judges, had he comprehended that it might cost him his head, and his bold a.s.surance gave way to cowardly despair.

Fanfaro answered the questions put to him briefly and clearly. He described Robeckal's actions during the time he had been a member of Girdel's troupe. He declared that the wretch had cut the chain in Sainte-Ame for the purpose of killing the athlete, and said everything in such a pa.s.sionless way that the judges became convinced that he was speaking the truth. As soon as the indictment had been read, the proceedings began. Robeckal whiningly declared that he bitterly regretted what he had done. He had been seduced by Fanfaro, and would give his right hand if he could blot out the recollection of the attempted a.s.sa.s.sination.

"Thanks be to G.o.d that Providence protected our king!" he concluded, bursting into tears, the presence of which were a surprise even to himself, while a murmur of sympathy ran through the courtroom. He certainly deserved a light punishment, poor fellow, and--

Now came Fanfaro's turn.

"You are a member of a secret society which bears the proud t.i.tle of 'Heroes of Justice'?" asked the presiding judge.

"I am a Frenchman," replied Fanfaro, "and as such I joined with the men who desire to free their country."

"And to do this you attempted a.s.sa.s.sination?" asked the judge, sharply.

"I am not an a.s.sa.s.sin," replied the young man, coldly; "these men who negotiated with foreign powers to cut France in pieces for the sake of conquering a crown sunk in mud have more right to the t.i.tle."

"Bravo!" came from the rear of the hall, and then a terrible tumult arose. With the help of the policemen, several dozen men were hustled out of the room, while the man who had uttered the cry was let alone. It was Girdel, who wore the dress of a lackey and consequently aroused no suspicion.

Irene de Salves was also one of the spectators. Her sparkling eyes were directed at Fanfaro, and whenever he spoke, a look of pride shone in them.

When quiet had been restored, the judge turned once more to Fanfaro. He asked him to tell everything he knew about the attempt, and shook his head when the young man declared on his honor that he was the victim of a conspiracy.

"My father," Fanfaro concluded, "fell in defence of his country, and it would be a bad way of honoring his memory were I to stain his name with the shame of regicide."

Fanfaro's defender was a very able lawyer, but he was stopped in the middle of his speech, and when he protested he was forced to leave the courtroom.

Fifteen minutes later the verdict was given. Robeckal was condemned to death by strangulation, and Fanfaro to the galleys for life.

But at the moment the sentence was p.r.o.nounced a terrible thing occurred.

Fanfaro arose, opened his mouth as if he wished to speak, stretched out his arms, turned around in a circle, and then fell heavily to the floor!

Loud cries broke forth.

"He has committed suicide," some cried.

"He has been poisoned," came from others, and all rushed toward the unconscious man.

Irene de Salves had hurried toward Girdel, she wished to ask him a question; but when she finally reached the place where she had seen the athlete he had disappeared. All attempts at recovery remained fruitless, and Fanfaro was carried off. Robeckal, too, was almost dead from fright.

The sentence came upon him like a stroke of lightning.

CHAPTER XXIII

THE CRISIS

"At last," cried the Marquis of Fougereuse, when he heard of Fanfaro's sudden death, and in great good humor he went in search of his wife.

"Madeleine!" he exclaimed, "all our troubles are at an end now; he who stood between us and fortune is dead."

"Of whom are you speaking?"

"Of whom else but that common regicide."

"What, of that Fanfaro who lately had the audacity to come into our parlor and create that terrible scene?"

"Of him--he is dead."

"Heaven be praised. We shall now receive the legacy."

"Without a doubt. All that is now necessary is to get Girdel to speak, and that can be easily arranged. He has only to repeat before witnesses what he has told me already."

"I had hardly dared to hope any more that this dream would be realized,"

said Madeleine. "The cabinet position is now sure, and our son has a brilliant future before him. Where is Frederic staying? He has been gone already several hours."

The marquis paid no attention to Madeleine's last words. He was thinking about Simon and the great service the latter had done for him.

"Where can Simon be?" he uneasily remarked, "I have not seen him in two days."

"Bah! he will turn up, let us rather speak about our son. I--"

A knock was heard at the door.

"Come in," said the marquis expectantly; but instead of Simon, as he thought, a servant entered.

"My lord," he stammered, "the vicomte--"

"Ah, he is outside!" cried the marquise eagerly; "tell the vicomte we are awaiting him."

Saying which she advanced toward the door. The servant, however, prevented her from opening it, and placing his hand on the k.n.o.b, he hesitatingly said: