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"It was Simonne's soul that spoke through his lips!" murmured the Marquis, when Pierre repeated the message sent by the young man. The father and son did not meet after 1790. We will now return to Fribourg, to that room where Pierre Labarre had just told the Marquis that Simon was living. Twenty-five years had elapsed twenty-five years of anguish and sorrow for the Marquis.
When the hour arrives, I will remind you of your words. But now we must think of Pierre Labarre. Time presses!" "I am ready. Where are we to find him?" "Two leagues from here, near the little town of Vagney." "It is now three o'clock," said the Marquis. "We can surely return here to-night. You had best order the horses at once." When the Marquis was alone, he bowed his face in his hands.
Labarre said, in a low voice, "The men will come up with a bier." In a few minutes Fanfar's body was carried to the Hôtel de Fongereues and laid by the side of the Vicomte. Labarre made no attempt to resist this caprice of the Marquis. The old servant, now that De Fongereues showed such humility and grief, had become his devoted servant.
The Marquis looked at him intently for a minute or two in silence, and then, with an indescribable smile, said: "I think we can manage him, nevertheless!" Cyprien smiled. "You know, beside," continued the Marquis, "that I am not ungrateful. Let this Labarre surrender this secret and my son become the husband of young Irène de Salves, and my position becomes stronger than ever.
For a short time all was still, and Simon was about to strike again, when a window was opened and a voice asked: "Who is there?" The two men exchanged quick glances; Pierre Labarre was at home, and, as it seemed, alone. "I am the Marquis of Fougereuse," said the marquis, finally. No sooner had the words been spoken than the window was closed.
And the little children repeated these words: "Vive la France! Vive la Republique!" At this moment a strange scene took place on the Square. Two shadows, dimly seen in the twilight, were kneeling before the inn. No one had seen them approach. Pierre Labarre was the first to notice them, and he felt a quick contraction of the heart that heralded some unlooked-for event.
Bobichel married Caillette, whom he adored as much as he adored Fanfar. Françoise and Labarre neither of them lived long. Cyprien continued to act as spy for the French government. And La Roulante was assassinated in a drunken frolic. This was the story of Fanfar, which we have completed, for Fanfar's modesty was too great to allow him to say what we have said for him.
Fougereuse looked up and an expression of dumb terror appeared on his features, while he tremblingly murmured: "Pierre Labarre!" Yes, it was really Pierre Labarre who had accompanied Caillette and Louise to Paris, and had heard there that Fanfaro's trial had begun. As soon as he could he hurried to the court house and heard there what had happened.
This completed the resemblance to the past. As a schoolmaster, Pierre appointed an old soldier, who was intelligent and honest. Once more Leigoutte began to take heart. Pierre Labarre spent several days each year in the village, and yet the good people knew nothing of him more than his name.
Labarre asked himself if it were not his duty to stop this poor woman, but a secret instinct bade him watch her to the end. An hour elapsed, but Françoise seemed to feel no fatigue. At the cross-roads she did not hesitate. Finally they reached the Gorge d'Outremont. In the fast gathering darkness, the place was horrible and gloomy.
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