"Poor young man!" said the n.o.bleman, pityingly; "but what am I saying?"

he interrupted himself with well-played anger. "Fanfaro has no doubt found a second father in you; I would like to wager that you were a friend of his parents, and have bestowed your friendship upon the son."

"You are mistaken, my lord; I found Fanfaro on the road."

"Impossible! What singular things one hears! Where did you find the boy?"

"Ah! that is an old story, but if it interests you I will relate it to you: One cold winter day, I rode with my wagon--in which was, besides my stock, my family and some members of my troupe--over a snow-covered plain in the Vosges, when I suddenly heard loud trumpet tones. At first I did not pay any attention to them. It was in the year 1814, and such things were not uncommon then. However, the tones were repeated, and I hurried in the direction from whence they proceeded. I shall never forget the sight which met me. A boy about ten years of age lay unconscious over a dead trumpeter, and his small hands were nervously clutched about the trumpet. It was plain that he had blown the notes I had heard and then fallen to the ground in a faint. I took the poor little fellow in my arms; all around lay the bodies of many French soldiers, and the terrors of the neighborhood had no doubt been too much for the little rogue. We covered him in the wagon with warm cloaks, and because the poor fellow had blown such fanfares upon the trumpet, we had called him Fanfaro."

"Didn't he have any name?" asked the marquis, nervously.

"That, my dear sir, wasn't so easy to find out. Hardly had we taken the boy to us than he got the brain-fever, and for weeks lay on the brink of the grave. When he at length recovered, he had lost his memory entirely, and only after months did he regain it. At last he could remember the name of the village where he had formerly lived--"

"What was the name of this village?" interrupted the marquis, hurriedly.

"Leigoutte, my lord."

The n.o.bleman had almost uttered a cry, but he restrained himself in time, and Girdel did not notice his guest's terrible excitement.

"His name, too, and those of his parents and sister, we found out after a time," continued Girdel; "his father's name was Jules, his mother's Louise, his sister's Louison, and his own Jacques. On the strength of his information I went to Leigoutte, but found out very little. The village had been set on fire by the Cossacks and destroyed. Of the inhabitants only a few women and children had been rescued, and the only positive thing I heard was that Jacques's mother had been burned to death in a neighboring farmhouse. The men of Leigoutte had made a stand against the Cossacks, but had been fairly blown into the air by them. I returned home dissatisfied. Fanfaro remained with us; he learned our tricks, and we love him very much. Where he managed to procure the knowledge he has is a riddle to me; he never went to a regular school, and yet he knows a great deal. He is a genius, my lord marquis, and a treasure for our troupe."

Cold drops of perspiration stood on the n.o.bleman's forehead. No, there was no longer any doubt: Fanfaro was his brother's son!

"Have you never been able to find out his family name?" he asked, after a pause.

"No; the Cossacks set fire to the City Hall at Weissenbach and all the records there were destroyed. An old shepherd said he had once been told that Jules was the scion of an old n.o.ble family. Anything positive on this point, I could not find out--I--"

At this point the door was hastily opened and Fanfaro entered. He rushed upon Girdel and enthusiastically cried:

"Thank G.o.d, Papa Girdel, that you are well again."

"You rascal, you," laughed Girdel, looking proudly at the young man.

"You have found time again to rescue some one."

"Monsieur Fanfaro," said the marquis now, "permit me once more to thank you for what you have done for me. I can never repay you."

"Don't mention it, sir," replied Fanfaro, modestly, "I have only done my duty."

"Well I hope if you should ever need me you will let me know. The Marquis of Fougereuse is grateful."

When the marquis went downstairs shortly afterward, he found Simon awaiting him.

"Simon," he said, hurriedly, "do you know who Fanfaro is?"

"No, my lord."

"He is the son of my brother, Jules de Fougereuse."

"Really?" exclaimed Simon, joyfully, "that would be splendid."

"Listen to my plan; the young man must die, but under such circ.u.mstances as to have his ident.i.ty proved, so that Pierre Labarre can be forced to break his silence. You understand me, Simon?"

"Perfectly so, my lord; and I can tell you now that I already know the means and way to do the job. A little while ago a man, whom I can trust, informed me that Fanfaro is going to play a part in the conspiracy against the government which I have already spoken to you about."

"So much the better; but can he be captured in such a way that there will be no outlet for him?"

"I hope so."

"Who gave you this information?" asked the marquis, after Simon had told him all that Robeckal had overheard.

"A man called Robeckal; he is a member of Girdel's troupe."

"Good."

The marquis took out a note-book, wrote a few lines, and then said:

"Here, take this note, Simon, and accompany Robeckal at once to Remiremont. There you will go to the Count of Vernac, the police superintendent, and give him the note. The count is a faithful supporter of the monarchy, and will no doubt accede to my request to send some policemen here this very night to arrest Girdel and Fanfaro. The rest I shall see to."

"My lord, I congratulate you," said Simon, respectfully.

CHAPTER X

ESCAPED

Before Robeckal had gone with Simon, he had hurried to Rolla and told her that he was going to Remiremont now to get some policemen.

"Our score will be settled now on one board," he said, with a wink.

The fat woman had looked at him with swimming eyes, and in a maudlin voice replied:

"That--is--right--all--must--suffer--Caillette--also!"

"Certainly, Caillette, too," replied Robeckal, inwardly vowing to follow his own ideas with respect to this last, and then he hurried after the steward.

Caillette and Rolla slept in the same room; when the young girl entered it she saw the Cannon Queen sitting in an intoxicated condition at the table surrounded by empty bottles. The horrible woman greeted the young girl with a coa.r.s.e laugh, and as Caillette paid no attention to her, Rolla placed her arms upon the table, and threateningly exclaimed:

"Don't put on such airs, you tight-rope princess; what will you do when they take your Fanfaro away?"

"Take Fanfaro away? What do you mean?" asked Caillette, frightened, overcoming her repulsion, and looking at Rolla.

"Ha! ha! ha! Now the pigeon thaws--yes, there is nothing like love,"

mocked the drunken woman. "Ah, the policemen won't let themselves be waited for; Robeckal and the others will look out for that."

Caillette, horror-stricken, listened to the virago's words. Was she right, and were her father and Fanfaro in danger?

"I am going to sleep now," said Rolla, "and when I wake up Fanfaro and Girdel will have been taken care of."