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"Curious," muttered Pierre, "I did not see his face, but his voice seemed familiar." Mr. Schwan, the host of the Golden Sun at Sainte-Ame, a market town in the Vosges, was very busy. Although the month of February was not an inviting one, three travellers had arrived that morning at the Golden Sun, and six more were expected.
He declared that the wretch had cut the chain in Sainte-Ame for the purpose of killing the athlete, and said everything in such a passionless way that the judges became convinced that he was speaking the truth. As soon as the indictment had been read, the proceedings began. Robeckal whiningly declared that he bitterly regretted what he had done.
"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?"
Girdel turned now to Fanfaro, and gayly cried: "To work, my son; we must dazzle the inhabitants of Sainte-Ame! Cousin Schwan, have we got permission to give our performance? You are the acting mayor." "I am," replied Schwan; "hand in your petition; here is some stamped paper." "Fanfaro, write what is necessary," ordered Girdel; "you know I'm not much in that line."
Schwan, who was crying like a child, threw a sharp look at Robeckal, and Fanfaro now said: "Is there no physician in the neighborhood?" "No, there is no physician in Sainte-Ame, and Vagney is several miles distant." "No matter, I shall go to Vagney." "Impossible, the floods have destroyed all the roads; you risk your life, Fanfaro," said Schwan.
"If you are not a man of the pen, you are a man of the heart," laughed Fanfaro, as he quickly wrote a few lines on the paper. "Flatterer," scolded Girdel. "Forward, Bobichel; bring me the work-box; the people will find out to-night that they will see something." Half an hour later the inhabitants of Sainte-Ame crowded about the open place in front of the Golden Sun.
Fanfaro, who only thought that the horse had run away with the marquis, cried in vain to the rider, and so he had to foot the distance, muttering as he went: "If the poor fellow only doesn't get hurt; he is still feeble, and the horse needs a competent rider." Fanfaro was hardly a hundred feet away from Sainte-Ame, when Girdel opened his eyes and looked about him.
"Let the clothes hang," ordered Girdel. They all crept softly to the stable and in about five minutes were on the street. Bobichel ran alongside Girdel. Suddenly he stopped and hurriedly said: "I hear the sound of horses' hoofs; we escaped just in time." The noise Bobichel heard really came from the policemen, who had hurried from Remiremont to Sainte-Ame and were now surrounding the Golden Sun.
The marquis put his arms tightly about the young man's neck, and the latter strode along the narrow pathway which led to the heights. Soon the road became broader, the neighing of a horse was heard, and drawing a deep breath the young man stood still. "Now we are safe," he said, consolingly; "I will take you on the back of my horse, and in less than a quarter of an hour we will be in Sainte-Ame.
The villain who did it is a bad man, who has already crossed our path." "And his name?" "Vicomte de Talizac." "Talizac? Has this family got a thousand devils in its service? It was the vicomte's father, the Marquis of Fougereuse, who wished to kill us at Sainte-Ame; his steward ran to Remiremont to get the police." "Like father like son.
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