The Son of Monte-Cristo The Son Of Monte Cristo Part 26

"I must look at that chain," he said, "when Fanfar comes. And where is he? It seems to me that he is gone a long time."

"He will be here soon," answered the innkeeper, "unless the inundation has increased."

"Is he on foot?" asked Gudel.

"No, the lady lent him her horse," said Bob.i.+.c.hel, but he stopped short when he saw Caillette turn pale.

Gudel could not see his daughter.

"The young lady is kind-hearted, in spite of all her affectations," he said. "And now, good people, I must ask you to leave me. While I am waiting for Fanfar, I must see these men that I am to take to-morrow to Remisemont."

"You do not really mean to go to-morrow?"

"I can't say yet. Caillette, my dear, you must go to bed and get some rest at once."

Gudel was not in the least hurt; he had received a great shock, that was all.

When La Roulante left the room, she was met at the door by Robeccal.

"You see," he said, in a fierce whisper, "that if I had done as I wished, and used a knife, the whole thing would have been settled by this time."

The two accomplices stood talking in the large room which the men of the company shared.

"Who the devil could have supposed," the one said to the other, "that Fanfar would have been able to save Gudel. Such a tremendous weight!"

While they were talking, Robeccal and La Roulante heard heavy steps on the stairs, and then a knock at Gudel's door.

Robeccal started. He suddenly remembered the brief colloquy which he had had with the unknown--who was in fact, Cyprien. Might it not be if he did what this man desired that in it he would also find his revenge?

"If you hate Gudel," this man had said, "I will give you an opportunity of paying off old scores."

Robeccal opened the door and looked out.

Yes, these were the men. Turning to the giantess,

"Listen!" he said, "it is by no means certain that all is lost."

"I don't understand."

"No, but tell me quick. Does he seem to have any secrets?"

"He is always reading the newspapers. He goes himself for his letters always, and brings back a quant.i.ty."

"Have you never read any of them?"

"I can't read."

"Wait a little. I think we have him now."

The two persons whom we saw in the dining-room now stood at the foot of Gudel's bed.

"You have had a narrow escape," said one.

"Yes, thanks to Fanfar. His brains, his arms and his muscles saved me."

"It was of him that we came to speak," replied the man who was dressed like a horse jockey.

"If it is time to act," said Gudel, "you may rely on him."

"Are you sure? We do not doubt you nor him, but for such work as ours--of which the aim is to return to France that liberty which has been stifled by the iron hand of Bonaparte and by the Bourbons--we need men who are ready to sacrifice their lives--to walk straight on, even if the scaffold stands at the termination of their road. Is Fanfar such a man?"

"I am not much of a speaker," answered Gudel. "My father was a soldier of the Republic. I myself was condemned to death in 1815. My father gave his life for France, and I lived through accident. It was about that time that little Fanfar fell into my hands, and I have always taught him to feel the greatest respect for the Revolution. You know, too, that his father was murdered by the allies, his mother was burned by the Cossacks, and his sister, poor little soul, died of starvation. Do you wonder that Fanfar hates the Bourbons? And you ask if you may trust him!"

There was a brief silence, and then the man who looked like an old soldier spoke.

"Gudel," he said, "we believe you. For ten years, over and over again, you have proved to us your devotion and your honesty."

Iron Jaws blushed with pleasure.

"Fanfar will be here presently. You will find him ready to do your bidding, and to risk his life in the performance of his duty."

"You know the situation," resumed one of the men; "our enemies are already quarreling among themselves, our friends are redoubling their efforts. General Foy has stigmatized the purchasers of votes and rendered their names infamous. Roger Collard has distinctly asked a terrible question--'where will you be in seven years?' The excitement is general, and we must send a man of activity to Paris--a man who is young and active, who is willing to make any sacrifice. Can Fanfar be this man?"

Gudel contented himself with a simple affirmative.

"Then," said the old soldier, drawing out a pocketbook, "here are papers so important that were they to fall into the hands of our adversaries, our heads would be in danger and our plans ruined. These papers Fanfar must carry to Paris; he will give them to the committee, who in their turn will give him orders, which he is to execute without hesitation or curiosity. Can you answer for Fanfar?"

"Upon my honor, I can."

The two men continued to talk in a low voice with Gudel, and then they went out. Absorbed in thought, they did not notice a man who started back when they appeared. Robeccal had heard every syllable.

Cyprien now arrived at the inn. White, trembling and breathless, he could scarcely reply to the questions addressed to him. He believed the Marquis to be dead, and was finally able to tell his story.

Schwann began to be very anxious. Where was Fanfar? Suddenly a horse was heard coming at full speed. Schwann and Caillette rushed to the door.

They uttered a simultaneous cry of surprise. It was the Marquis.

"And Fanfar? Where is he?"

"He is coming. But I have not a moment to lose. Take me to Gudel's chamber."

The tone was too peremptory for Schwann to hesitate; being rea.s.sured, too, in regard to Fanfar, he was ready to obey without stopping to ask the meaning of this extreme haste. Cyprien started forward, but the Marquis gave him a look that commanded silence, and as he pa.s.sed, said in a low voice:

"Patience!"

The door closed. Then Cyprien felt a hand on his shoulder and recognized the man whose a.s.sistance he had endeavored to buy.

"Come out with me," said this man.