The Son of Monte-Cristo The Son Of Monte Cristo Part 51

"You, who are so good and kind, be doubly so to the sister I found when too late. The hour draws near when the so-called justice of man will strike an innocent person. You do not doubt me, I know. I am not one who would dishonor a sacred cause. Say to my sister that little Jacques has endeavored to be worthy of his father--Simon Fougere.

"I beg my adopted father, Gudel, to explain to you in detail the singular events of my life. I place entire confidence in you. I leave to your care poor Francoise and little Cinette. Love them, and they will return your affection. You have not forgotten the words addressed to you so long ago: 'Make yourself beloved.'

"I do not know whether I should now bid you an eternal farewell. I recognize the fact that I am the object of venomous hatred to some one, but to whom? Let no one seek to solve this mystery. I forgive this enemy, whomsoever he may be.

"In a few days--to-morrow, perhaps--my fate will be decided. Do not despair."

Tears filled Irene's eyes as she finished this letter.

Bobichel watched her all the time, restraining his sobs with difficulty.

"You love him!" he said softly, "and you are right, for he is the best man I ever knew!"

Irene extended her hand, and the clown knelt to kiss it.

"But we must save him!" cried Irene. "He shall not be condemned--"

"Condemned?" said a voice. "Of whom do you speak?"

Francine, obeying an impulse, had thrown on a peignoir of white cashmere, and appeared, white and trembling, at the door. Irene ran to her side.

"Courage! sister," she cried, "courage!"

Then Irene herself gave way, and burst into pa.s.sionate weeping. Francine took her brother's letter and read it slowly, but when she came to the words "little Jacques" and "Cinette," her eyes closed, and she would have fallen had not Bobichel caught her.

"You must not cry like that!" he said. "You must not weep. We will save Fanfar! Please, Mademoiselle Irene, read the letter Iron Jaws sends you.

He has an idea, and he knows what he is about. He will save Fanfar!"

Bobichel's confidence was so great, his honest affection was so apparent, that the two girls exchanged a hopeful glance.

"Read!" said Francine.

Iron Jaws' letter was not faultless in respect to orthography. Its errors we will not repeat:

"Fanfar must be saved! I know your attachment for him. You have great influence with people in power. Try to see him, and give him something that Bobichel will hand you. I rely on your doing this."

"What am I to say to Iron Jaws?" asked Bobichel.

"Tell him that I will do all he asks. But you have another note for me?"

"No, not a note." And Bobichel, with infinite care, took from the flap of his coat a pin, an ordinary pin though of large size, not large enough, however, to excite the smallest suspicion.

"Do you see that?" cried the clown, with much of his former gayety. "Do you see that, ladies and gentlemen? This pin does not look like much, does it, now? But you can screw off the head, and then you will find a tiny note--"

"It is most ingenious," said Irene, with a smile "and it shall be delivered as you desire."

"Ah! you are a brave creature, and if some day you want some one to amuse your children--that is, when you have any, you know--send for me, and I will be frogs for them all day long!"

And with this somewhat startling promise, Bobichel departed.

CHAPTER x.x.xVI.

SUPREME EFFORT.

Monsieur de Fongereues was alone in his cabinet. Magdalena had left him only a few moments before. A violent scene had taken place between the husband and wife.

The ruin that threatened the Fongereues mansion had been temporarily staved off by the marriage that had been arranged between Irene and the Vicomte, but as soon as the world knew that the marriage was broken off, the tongues of gossips began to wag.

The Fongereues felt that their doom was sealed when they knew that Irene's millions were forever lost to them. Then this unhappy pair began to quarrel. To Magdalena's violent reproaches Fongereues answered by violent recriminations. Was it not her senseless indulgence that had caused the Vicomte to become the depraved and worthless person upon whom every one now turned a cold shoulder? If they were ruined, was it not because of the mad extravagance of mother and son?

And Magdalena replied:

"If I have been weak, was it not still more your duty to be strong? Who is the proper guide for a young man if not his father? You have been faithless to your duties, and, moreover, has he a vice which is not yours?"

Fongereues foamed with rage, and before he could speak his wife had the audacity to say:

"You are choked by the blood of your brother!"

She thus reproached him for a crime that he had committed at her instigation. A moment more and this great lord would have demeaned himself to brutalities worthy of a lacquey, but with a look of contempt Magdalena swept past him and left the room. And now, crushed into a large arm-chair, the Marquis sat with his eyes fixed on the floor.

"Count Fernando de Vellebri wishes to see you," a servant knocked at the door to say.

"One moment!" answered the Marquis.

He hurried to his dressing room, bathed his face in cold water and hastily brushed his fast whitening hair. He took his seat at his desk, which was covered with papers.

"Show Monsieur de Vellebri up," he said.

He shuddered as he spoke, for he had learned through Cyprien that this Fernando belonged to the society of the Jesuits. The young man entered.

He was no longer the obsequious person with the stereotyped smile, who had done the will of the Vicomte de Talizac. Dressed in black, a long single-breasted coat, Fernando was the type of the Jesuits who pervaded French society. His dark hair rendered his pallor more remarkable. His half closed eyes were brilliant in spite of their heavy lids.

Fongereues divined a contest. What new struggle would he be compelled to undergo? He pointed to a chair, but the Italian bowed and remained standing.

"You wished to see me," said the Marquis, "and I am at your service. But what is this costume? I was not aware that you belonged to any religious society, officially, at least."

"As to my claims to this dress," answered De Vellebri, coldly, "I am quite ready to explain them, if you will condescend to listen to me."

His voice was monotonous, as he continued: