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After the terrible scene in the Fougereuse mansion, the young countess, with the help of Arthur, brought Louison to a carriage, and, to Madame Ursula's horror, she gave the young girl her own room and bed. For Fanfaro's sister nothing could be good enough, and the young countess made Louison as comfortable as possible.
Irene bent over Louison and kissed her pale forehead. This was her answer to Fanfaro's information. Talizac had now recovered his senses. He tore open the door and angrily cried: "Is there no one here who will show this impudent fellow out? Come in, lackeys and servants; lay hands on him!" "I would advise no one to touch me," said Fanfaro, coldly.
The reader will remember that Firejaws, who has died in the meantime, once jokingly compared Fanfaro to a Newfoundland dog, as he found means everywhere to rescue some one. Fanfaro's presence in Paris is soon explained. His wife and his two children could not stand the Algerian climate long, and so they all came to Paris. Monte-Cristo had begged him to keep an eye on Spero.
"He could have lived to a hundred years," said the physician, as he beat Fanfaro's breast, and his colleagues agreed with him. Fanfaro lay like a marble statue upon the table; the dark locks covered the pale forehead, and a painful expression lay over the firmly closed lips. Did the poor fellow suspect that he would become a victim of science and be delivered over to the knife?
The woman drank eagerly the glass of milk offered, and then muttered softly to herself. "It is so warm, I am burning, everywhere there are flames." The poor woman was crazy, and no one would have ever recognized in her, Louise, the wife of the landlord Jules Fougeres. The reader will have guessed long since that Louison, the street-singer, was none other than Fanfaro's lost sister.
Bobichel crawled into every corner, and raised the heavy carpet which covered the floor, to see if there were any secret stairs. Then he got on top of Fanfaro's shoulders and knocked at the ceiling. But all was in vain. Nothing could be discovered. Suddenly Fanfaro's eye rested on a small white spot in the blue, decorated wall.
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 pronounced a terrible thing occurred.
The wonderfully fine-shaped body was seen to advantage in this position, and a sculptor would have enthusiastically observed the classical outlines of the young man, whose dark tights fitted him like a glove. Fanfaro's hands and feet were as small as those of a woman, but, as Girdel had said, his muscles and veins were as hard as iron.
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