"What do I wish here?" replied Robeckal; "Madame Girdel has done me the honor to call me, and--"

"And you are thinking rather long about it," interrupted Rolla, gruffly.

"I am here," growled Robeckal, laying his hand upon the edge of the wagon.

"No further!" commanded Girdel, in a threatening voice.

"Ha! who is going to prevent me?"

"I, wretch!" thundered Firejaws, in whose eyes a warning glance shone.

"Bah! you are getting angry about nothing," said Robeckal, mockingly, placing his other hand on the edge of the wagon.

"Strike him, Robeckal!" cried Rolla, urgingly.

Robeckal raised his right hand, but at the same moment the athlete stretched him on the ground with a blow of his fist; he could thank his stars that Girdel had not struck him with his full force, or else Robeckal would never have got up again. With a cry of rage he sprung up and threw himself upon the giant, who waited calmly for him with his arms quietly folded over his breast; a sword shone in Robeckal's hand, and how it happened neither he nor Rolla knew, but immediately after he lay on top of the wagon, close to the Cannon Queen.

"Enough of your rascality, Robeckal," said the voice of him who had thrown the angry man upon the wagon.

"I thought the wretched boy would come between us again," hissed Rolla; and without waiting for any further help she sprung from the wagon and rushed upon Fanfaro, for he it was who had come to Girdel's a.s.sistance.

"Back, Rolla!" exclaimed Firejaws, hoa.r.s.ely, as he laid his iron fist upon his wife's shoulder. Schwan came to the door and cordially said:

"Where are your comrades? The soup is waiting."

Robeckal hurriedly glided from the wagon, and approaching close to Rolla, he whispered a few words in her ear.

"Let me go, Girdel," said the giantess. "Who would take such a stupid joke in earnest? Come, I am hungry."

Firejaws looked at his wife in amazement. Her face, which had been purple with anger, was now overspread by a broad grin, and shrugging his shoulders, Girdel walked toward the house. Fanfaro followed, and Robeckal and Rolla remained alone.

"We must make an end of it, Rolla," grumbled Robeckal.

"I am satisfied. The sooner the better!"

"Good. I shall do it to-night. See that you take a little walk afterward on the country road. I will meet you there and tell you my plan."

"Do so. Let us go to dinner now, I am hungry."

When Rolla and Robeckal entered the dining-room, Girdel, Caillette, Bobichel, and Fanfaro were already sitting at table, and Schwan was just bringing in a hot, steaming dish.

CHAPTER III

OLD AND NEW ACQUAINTANCES

While the hungry guests were eating, the door at the back of the large dining-room was very softly opened. None of the strangers observed this, but the host, whose eyes were all over, went toward the door, at the threshold of which stood a man about forty years of age. The man was small and lean, and wore a brown overcoat trimmed with fur; the coat was cut out at the bosom and allowed a yellow vest and sky-blue tie to be seen. Trousers of dark-blue cloth reached to the knee, and his riding-boots, with spurs, completed the wonderfully made toilet.

The man's face had a disagreeable expression. He had deep squinting eyes, a large mouth, a broad nose, and long, bony fingers.

When the host approached the stranger he bowed and respectfully asked:

"How can I serve you, sir?"

The stranger did not reply; his gaze was directed toward the table and the guests, and the host, who had observed his look, again repeated the question.

The stranger walked into the middle of the room, and, seating himself at a table, said:

"Bring me a gla.s.s of brandy."

"I thought--I believed--" began the host.

"Do as I told you. I am expecting some one. Get a good dinner ready, and as soon as--the other one arrives, you can serve it."

"It shall be attended to," nodded Schwan, who thought the man was the steward of some big lord.

Just as the host was about to leave the room, the door was opened again and two more travellers entered. The first comer threw a look at the new arrivals, and a frown crossed his ugly face.

The last two who entered were entirely dissimilar. One of them, to judge from his upright bearing, must have formerly been a soldier. He was dressed plainly in civilian's clothes, and his bushy white mustache gave his face a threatening look; the deep blue eyes, however, served to soften the features. The other man was evidently a carman; he wore a blue linen blouse, leathern shoes, knee-breeches and a large round hat.

When the host praised his kitchen to the new-comers, his words fell on fertile ground, for when he asked the first guest whether he would like to have some ham and eggs, the proposition was at once accepted.

"Where shall I serve the gentlemen?"

For a moment there was deep silence. The guests had just perceived the first comer and did not seem to be impressed by his appearance.

Nevertheless, the man who looked like a soldier decided that they should be served at one of the side tables. When he said this Girdel looked up, and his features showed that the new-comers were not strangers to him.

The man in the brown overcoat laughed mockingly when he perceived that the two strangers chose a table as far away from his as possible. He looked fixedly at them, and when Schwan brought him the brandy he had ordered, he filled his gla.s.s and emptied it at one gulp. He then took some newspapers out of his pocket and began to read, holding the pages in such a way as to conceal his face.

The host now brought the ham and eggs. As he placed them on the table, the carman hastily asked:

"How far is it, sir, from here to Remiremont?"

"To Remiremont? Ah, I see the gentlemen do not belong to the vicinity.

To Remiremont is about two hours."

"So much the better; we can get there then in the course of the afternoon."

"That is a question," remarked Schwan.

"How so? What do you mean?"

"The road is very bad," he replied.

"That won't be so very dangerous."

"Oh, but the floods!"