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As she reached Girdel's door, a dark form, which had been crouching near the threshold, arose. "Who's there?" asked Caillette softly. "I, little Caillette," replied Bobichel's voice. "I am watching, because I do not trust Robeckal." "Oh, Bobichel, there is danger. I must waken father at once." "What is the matter?"
With the point of a knife Fanfaro opened Girdel's tightly compressed lips; the clown poured a few drops of the liquid down his throat, and in a few moments Girdel slowly opened his eyes and a deep sigh came from his breast. When Bobichel put the bottle to his mouth again, he drank a deep draught. "Hurrah, he is rescued!" exclaimed the clown, as he wiped the tears from his eyes.
"Bobi, just in time," he breathlessly cried, "five minutes more and Fanfaro would have been done for." Girdel's further arrangements were made with the utmost prudence. Irene de Salves had given him unlimited credit, and the well-known proverb that a golden key opens all doors was conclusively proved in this particular case.
Let us hope everything will be all right, and then " A loud knock at the door interrupted Girdel's self-conversation, and upon a hasty "Come in," Bobichel entered the room. "Well, Bobi, how goes it?" asked the athlete. "She is downstairs," said the clown, with a significant gesture.
The quick gallop of a horse was now heard, and the next minute Irene de Salves stepped into the booth. "Really, she has come," muttered Caillette in a daze, as she pressed her hand to her heart and looked searchingly at Fanfaro. The latter looked neither to the right nor left. He was busy arranging Girdel's weights and iron poles, and Caillette, calmed by the sight, turned around.
Rolla loved Robeckal, as far as it was possible for a person like her to love any one, and desired to possess him. Robeckal, on his side, thought it would not be a bad idea to possess Girdel's business along with its stock, with which he ungallantly reckoned Rolla and Caillette. Caillette especially he admired, but he was smart enough not to say a word to Rolla.
He wore a costume made of black tights, and a chin-band from which an iron hook hung. He bowed to the spectators, seized the barrel with his chin hook and laid himself upon his back. Fanfaro stood next to his foster-father, and from time to time blew a blast with his trumpet. At every tone the heavy cask rose a few inches in the air, and breathlessly the crowd looked at Girdel's performance.
"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 assistance.
In spite of the uncommon appearance of the athlete, the strangers did not hesitate to accept Girdel's offer; they exchanged glances, and the soldier said: "Accepted, sir. We are strangers here, and would have surely lost ourselves. When do you expect to go?" "To-morrow morning. To-night we give a performance here, and with the dawn of day we start for Remiremont." "Good.
"The water ah!" "You are saved," said Fanfaro, gently. The sound of the voice caused all the blood to rush to the marquis's heart. "Did you save me?" "Yes." "Who are you?" "My name is Fanfaro, and I am a member of Girdel's troupe, which is at present in Sainte-Ame. Can you raise yourself?"
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