The Son of Monte-Cristo, Volume II | Page 6

said to Robeckal.
"Quick, what does it concern?"
"Twenty francs for you, if you answer me properly."
"Go ahead."
"What is this Firejaws?"
"Athlete, acrobat, wrestler--anything you please."
"What is his right name?"
"Girdel, Cesar Girdel."
"Do you know the men with whom he just spoke?"
"No."
"You hate Girdel?"
"Who told you so, and what is it your business?"
"Ah, a great deal. If you hate him we can make a common thing of it. You belong to his troupe?"
"Yes, for the present."
"Bah, long enough to earn a few gold pieces."
"What is asked of me for that?"
"You? Not much. You shall have an opportunity to pay back the athlete everything you owe him in the way of hate, and besides you will be well rewarded."
Robeckal shrugged his shoulders.
"Humbug," he said, indifferently.
"No, I mean it seriously."
"I should like it to be done," replied Robeckal, dryly.
"Here are twenty francs in advance."
Robeckal stretched out his hand for the gold piece, let it fall into his pocket, and disappeared without a word.
"You have come too late, my friend," he laughed to himself. "Girdel will be a dead man before the morrow comes, as sure as my name is Robeckal."
In the meantime Girdel continued to converse with the two gentlemen; Schwan went here and there, and Fanfaro, Caillette and Bobichel were waiting for the athlete's orders for the evening performance.
"How goes it?" asked the carman, now softly.
"Good," replied Girdel, in the same tone.
"The peasants are prepared?"
"Yes. The seed is ripe. They are only waiting for the order to begin to sow.
"We must speak about this matter at greater length, but not here. Did you notice the man who was reading the paper over there a little while ago?"
"Yes; he did not look as if he could instil confidence into any one; I think he must be a lackey."
"He could be a spy too; when can we speak to one another undisturbed?"
"This evening after the performance, either in your room or in mine."
"Let it be in yours; we can wait until the others sleep; let your door remain open, Girdel."
"I will not fail to do so."
"Then it is settled; keep mum. No one must know of our presence here."
"Not even Fanfaro?"
"No, not for any price."
"But you do not distrust him? He is a splendid fellow--"
"So much the better for him; nevertheless, he must not know anything. I can tell you the reason; we wish to speak about him; we desire to intrust certain things with him."
"You couldn't find a better person."
"I believe it. Good-by, now, until to-night."
"Au revoir!"
"Sir," said the carman, now aloud, "we accept your proposal with thanks, and hope to reach Remiremont to-morrow with your help."
"You shall."
Girdel turned now to Fanfaro, and gayly cried:
"To work, my son; we must dazzle the inhabitants of Sainte-Ame! Cousin Schwan, have we got permission to give our performance? You are the acting mayor."
"I am," replied Schwan; "hand in your petition; here is some stamped paper."
"Fanfaro, write what is necessary," ordered Girdel; "you know I'm not much in that line."
"If you are not a man of the pen, you are a man of the heart," laughed Fanfaro, as he quickly wrote a few lines on the paper.
"Flatterer," scolded Girdel. "Forward, Bobichel; bring me the work-box; the people will find out to-night that they will see something."
CHAPTER IV
BROTHER AND SISTER
Half an hour later the inhabitants of Sainte-Ame crowded about the open place in front of the Golden Sun. They seldom had an opportunity of seeing anything like this, for very few travelling shows ever visited the small Lorraine village; and with almost childish joy the spectators gazed at Bobichel, Fanfaro, and Girdel, who were engaged in erecting the booth. The work went on briskly. The posts which had been run into the ground were covered with many-colored cloths, and a hurriedly arranged wooden roof protected the interior of the tent from the weather. Four wooden stairs led to the right of the entrance, where the box-office was; this latter was made of a primitive wooden table, on which was a faded velvet cover embroidered with golden arabesques and cabalistic signs. All the outer walls of the booth were covered with yellow bills, upon which could be read that "Signor Firejaws" would lift with his teeth red-hot irons of fabulous weight, swallow burning lead, and perform the most startling acrobatic tricks. Rolla, the Cannon Queen, would catch cannon balls shot from a gun, and do other tricks; at the same time the bill said she would eat pigeons alive, and with their feathers on. Caillette, the "daughter of the air," as she was called, would send the spectators into ecstasies by her performance on the tight rope, and sing songs. Robeckal, the "descendant of the old Moorish kings," would swallow swords, eat glass, shave kegs with his teeth; and Fanfaro would perform on the trapeze, give his magic acts, and daze the