The Son of Monte-Cristo Volume II Part 34

Irene looked at her in astonishment. Was it possible that Louison did not know her own brother, or had the excitement of the last days crazed her mind?

"Won't you tell me who Fanfaro is?" asked Louison, urgently.

"Don't you really know your own brother?" asked Irene in surprise.

"My brother?"

Louison laid her hand on her head and became thoughtful.

"I had a brother once," she said, pensively; "he was a few years older than I, and did everything to please me, but it is long ago since I saw Jacques--many, many years."

"Jacques and Fanfaro are identical," replied Irene, softly.

She had been told this by her cousin Arthur, who took a great interest in the brother and sister.

"Fanfaro," repeated Louison, pensively. "Ah! now I know who this man is.

He belongs to a company of acrobats who give performances in the Place du Chateau d'Eau. They have all such peculiar names. One of them is named Firejaws--"

"Perfectly right; he is Fanfaro's foster-father, and Fanfaro is your brother."

"Who told you so?"

"He, himself; he begged me to care for his sister."

"But why does he not come? I long to see him."

Irene, too, longed to see Fanfaro.

"Let me speak a little about him," said Louison, vivaciously; "perhaps Fanfaro is identical with Jacques; he must be twenty years of age."

"That may be so."

"And then he must be very handsome. Jacques was a very pretty boy."

"That is correct, too," replied Irene, blushing.

"Has he black eyes and dark, curly hair?"

"I think so," stammered Irene, who knew all these details, yet did not wish to confess it.

"You think so," repeated Louison; "you haven't looked carefully at him?"

"I--I--" stammered the countess, in confusion; "what do you look at me for?"

A smile flitted across Louison's lips, but she kept silent, and Irene thanked G.o.d, as Madame Ursula now came in and softly said:

"Irene, a word."

"What is the matter?" asked the countess, hastily.

"There is a man outside who would like to speak to you."

"His name?"

"Bobichel--"

"Bobichel? Ah! bring him in the next room directly!"

Madame Ursula nodded and disappeared, while Irene turned to Louison and said in explanation:

"Excuse me a moment; I will not leave you long alone."

She went to the next room, where Bobichel was already awaiting her. He did not look as jolly as usual, and, twirling his cap between his fingers in an embarra.s.sed way, he began:

"Mademoiselle, excuse me for disturbing you, but--"

"You come from him--from Fanfaro?" said Irene, blushing.

"Unfortunately no," replied Bobichel, sorrowfully; "I was not allowed to see him."

"Who sent you here?"

"His foster-father--Girdel."

"Why does he not come personally?"

"I do not know. I have something to give you."

"What is it?"

"Here it is," said Bobichel, pulling a small package out of his pocket and handing it to Irene.

The young countess hastily unfolded the package. It contained two letters, one of which was addressed to "Mademoiselle Irene," while the other bore, in clear, firm letters, her full name, "Countess Irene de Salves."

Without accounting for her feelings, Irene feverishly broke the last letter. Did she suspect from whom it came?

"Countess, you are brave and n.o.ble!" wrote Fanfaro, "and therefore I dare to ask you to take care of my sister, whom I barely rescued from death. The hour is near at hand in which my sentence will be p.r.o.nounced. You have never doubted me, and I thank you from the bottom of my heart! I have fought for the rights of humanity, and I hope at some future time to be enrolled among those to whom right is preferable to material things. One thing, however, I know now: a powerful enemy pursues me with his hatred, and if the sentence should turn out differently from what this enemy expects, he will find the means to make me harmless. I therefore say farewell to you--if forever, who can say? Irene, do not despair, eternal heavenly justice stands above human pa.s.sions. But if I should succ.u.mb, I will die peacefully, knowing that my mother and my sister will not be deserted."

The letter bore no signature. Irene read again and again the words of her beloved, and hot tears fell on the paper.

Bobichel, deeply affected, observed the young girl, and to console her he said:

"Who knows, he might not be found guilty anyhow?"

"Whom are you talking of? Who will be found guilty?" came from a frightened voice behind Irene, and as the latter hastily turned round, she saw Louison, who, enveloped in a soft shawl and pale as a spectre, stood in the doorway.

"Louison, how did you get here?" cried Irene, beside herself. "O G.o.d! I am neglecting you. Quick, go to your room again, you shall know all to-morrow."