The Son of Monte-Cristo The Son Of Monte Cristo Part 58

The royal messenger waited a moment and then he, too, walked away, and going down a narrow alley he entered a little wineshop by a back door, and throwing himself on a bench, exclaimed:

"I was just in time, Bobichel. A second later and Fanfar would have been no more!"

The hospital was now anxious to get rid of this useless body, and orders were given that it should be buried without delay. Gudel and his friends had bribed the functionaries.

All went smoothly, and in an hour the hea.r.s.e was to take Fanfar away.

But before this, a card was brought in to the governor of the hospital.

On this card was the name of the Marquis de Fongereues, and in the corner of the glossy bit of pasteboard was a tiny sign, which signified that his visitor was especially recommended by the Society of which he was a member. He gave orders that the Marquis should be shown in at once.

Fongereues appeared, leaning on the arm of Pierre Labarre. The Marquis had suddenly grown old, his strength was gone, and his feet were as uncertain as those of a drunken man.

The governor rose to receive him. Fongereues tried to speak, but his voice died in his throat. He handed the governor an order from the minister, directing that the body of the man named Fanfar should be surrendered to the Marquis de Fongereues.

Our readers will notice that the promised million had already borne fruit in the granting of the first request made by the Marquis, who had laid aside his ambition and thought only of recovering the body of his son in return for the million.

"Can I see the body?" asked the Marquis.

The governor bowed a.s.sent and led him to the room where Fanfar still lay. Fongereues looked down on the n.o.ble features and manly form. How entirely they differed from those of the son for whom the Marquis had sacrificed everything. The Marquis knelt in silence for some minutes, while Labarre shed bitter tears.

"What does the Marquis propose to do?" asked the governor, who did not understand this scene, and was becoming impatient.

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 Hotel 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 asked for his wife, and was told that she had left the hotel alone and on foot.

"Pierre," said the Marquis, "I must say a few words to you. With the exception of this million I have required at your hands, the fortune which should have been Simon's must be given to his daughter. Tell her the whole truth; it is only just. Watch over this girl, proclaim her right to the name and property of our house. When I am dead do not lay me in French soil--I am not worthy of France--but place me where I am unknown and unheard of. You will obey these wishes?"

Labarre answered, solemnly, "I will obey them."

"Very good; we will start to-night for the chateau, and there side by side we will bury the two sons whom I have murdered."

While Fongereues, crushed under the weight of his remorse, was thus announcing his last wishes, another scene was taking place in the hospital. Gudel and Bobichel had applied for Fanfar's body.

"Too late!" answered the concierge. And the two men heard with consternation that Fanfar had been taken away. And where? No one knew.

Delay was inevitable. Gudel and the former clown went out into the street and there abandoned themselves to their distress.

CHAPTER XLI.

VIDOCQ, THE CHIEF OF POLICE.

To be condemned to death cannot be a very pleasant feeling, and Robeccal, though a.s.sured that he should not suffer, was naturally very uneasy. He did his best to keep up his courage, hoping every minute that some one would appear and furnish him with the means of leaving France.

Finally the door opened, and Vidocq himself, the Chief of Police, entered.

Robeccal, in a state of suppressed delight, had the audacity to wink at him.

"At last!" said the prisoner. "Really, sir, I think I have had about enough of this. When am I to leave France?"

"I think, my dear sir," answered Vidocq, in a somewhat sarcastic voice, "that you will not leave France."

"Ah! I am glad to hear that."

"A residence has been a.s.signed to you in a most delightful climate."

"And where may that be? What is the name of the place?"

"You will have no difficulty in remembering it, I fancy. Toulon is the name."

"Toulon!" repeated Robeccal, his eyes fairly starting from his head.

"Yes, your punishment has been changed. You are condemned, not to death, but to imprisonment for life."

Robeccal tried to smile. It was a joke, of course, but he did not like it.

"My dear sir," continued Vidocq, calmly and politely, "You are a scoundrel, and you accepted a base role. You think we have broken faith with you, but faith can not be kept with creatures like yourself."

Robeccal protested and raved, all to no purpose.

Vidocq went to the door and called; four men, each Hercules, appeared.

"Take this fellow away," said Vidocq, "he is to go with the other prisoners to Toulon in the morning."

Robeccal began to curse and swear.

"You will gag him," added Vidocq, "it is better. Good-bye, Monsieur Robeccal, I don't think we are likely to meet again!"

Vidocq looked on with a satirical smile while Robeccal was carried off.

Some months later he endeavored to make his escape from Toulon, and was shot.

CHAPTER XLII.

TO THOSE WHO LOVE FANFAR.

Night was coming on. The last rays of the setting sun shone on the water at Havre.