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Updated: September 29, 2025
"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?"
"All for nothing," growled Rolla; "he lives, and is as healthy as a fish in the water." "You don't say so," hissed Robeckal. "It was your own fault," continued the virago. "A good stab in the right place, and all is over; but you have no courage." "Silence, woman!" growled Robeckal. "I have attended to that in another way; he shall not trouble us long. Tell me, does he ever receive any letters?"
"Is everything in order?" asked Robeckal, going up the stairs after the "Cannon Queen." "Certainly, look for yourself." Robeckal entered an elegantly furnished room, and, placing Louison on a sofa, he said in a commendatory tone: "It's pretty fair." "Don't you think so? Leave the rest to me; I have a grand idea." "An idea?" repeated Robeckal, doubtingly.
Give in, my chicken, and don't show the white feather! No one will believe that you are respectable and virtuous, and I think you ought to save yourself the trouble. It is too late now." "You lie!" cried Louison, in desperation. "So I lie it is about time that I shut your bold mouth," growled the virago, and raising her voice, she cried: "Robeckal, bring me the bottle."
This was just what the wretch had been waiting for, and hardly five minutes later he was in a small street with the betrayed girl. In this street a carriage stood. Robeckal seized the unsuspecting girl by the waist, lifted her into the carriage, and sprang in himself. The driver whipped up the horses and away they went at a rapid gait.
Caillette, Fanfaro, and Bobichel went away; Girdel turned to his wife and pleasantly said: "Rolla, I will now help you down." Rolla looked at him sharply, and then said in a rough, rasping voice: "Didn't I call you, Robeckal? Come and help me down!" Robeckal, who had been observing the chickens in the courtyard, slowly approached the wagon. "What do you want?" he asked.
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.
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 public with his extraordinary productions.
"We owe our lives and our strength to the fatherland and the good cause; to stay here would be to put them both rashly at stake. Let us pray to God that it even now may not be too late." "So be it, let us fly. We can leave the wagon go, and take only the horses. Is Robeckal at home?" asked Girdel, suddenly turning to Bobichel. "No, master, he has gone." "Then forward," said the athlete firmly.
"First we will count," growled Rolla; and opening the pocket-book with her fat hands she passed the contents in review. "It is correct," she finally said; and taking the key out of her pocket she handed it to the vicomte. As soon as the latter had left the room, Rolla shoved the pocket-book in her dirty dress, and hastily said: "Come, Robeckal, the little one might make a noise.
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