THE GOLDEN SUN
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.
Schwan had that morning made an onslaught on his chicken coop, and,
while his servants were robbing the murdered hens of their feathers, the
host walked to the door of the inn and looked at the sky.
A loud laugh, which shook the windows of the inn, made Schwan turn round
hurriedly: at the same moment two muscular arms were placed upon his
shoulders, and a resounding kiss was pressed upon his brown cheek.
"What is the meaning of this?" stammered the host, trying in vain to
shake off the arms which held him. "The devil take me, but these arms
must belong to my old friend Firejaws," exclaimed Schwan, now laughing;
and hardly had he spoken the words than the possessor of the arms, a
giant seven feet tall, cheerfully said:
"Well guessed, Father Schwan. Firejaws in _propria persona_."
While the host was cordially welcoming the new arrival, several
servants hurried from the kitchen, and soon a bottle of wine and two
glasses stood upon the cleanly scoured inn table.
"Make yourself at home, my boy," said Schwan, gayly, as he filled the
glasses.
The giant, whose figure was draped in a fantastical costume, grinned
broadly, and did justice to the host's invitation. The sharply curved
nose and the large mouth with dazzling teeth, the full blond hair, and
the broad, muscular shoulders, were on a colossal scale. The
tight-fitting coat of the athlete was dark red, the trousers were of
black velvet, and richly embroidered shirt-sleeves made up the wonderful
appearance of the man.
"Father Schwan, I must embrace you once more," said the giant after a
pause, as he stretched out his arms.
"Go ahead, but do not crush me," laughed the host.
"Are you glad to see me again?"
"I should say so. How are you getting along?"
"Splendidly, as usual; my breast is as firm still as if it were made of
iron," replied the giant, striking a powerful blow upon his breast.
"Has business been good?"
"Oh, I am satisfied."
"Where are your people?"
"On their way here. The coach was too slow for me, so I left them behind
and went on in advance."
"Well, and--your wife?" asked the host, hesitatingly.
The giant closed his eyes and was silent; Schwan looked down at his
feet, and after a pause continued:
"Things don't go as they should, I suppose?"
"Let me tell you something," replied the giant, firmly; "if it is just
the same to you, I would rather not talk on that subject."
"Ah, really? Poor fellow! Yes, these women!"
"Not so quickly, cousin--my deceased wife was a model of a woman."
"True; when she died I knew you would never find another one to equal
her."
"My little Caillette is just like her."
"Undoubtedly. When I saw the little one last, about six years ago, she
was as pretty as a picture."
"She is seventeen now, and still very handsome."
"What are the relations between your wife and you?"
"They couldn't be better; Rolla cannot bear the little one."
The host nodded.
"Girdel," he said, softly, "when you told me that day that you were
going to marry the 'Cannon Queen,' I was frightened. The woman's look
displeased me. Does she treat Caillette badly?"
"She dare not touch a hair of the child's head," hissed the giant,
"or--"
"Do not get angry; but tell me rather whether Bobichel is still with
you?"
"Of course."
"And Robeckal?"
"His time is about up."
"That would be no harm; and the little one?"
"The little one?" laughed Girdel. "Well, he is about six feet."
"You do not say so! Is he still so useful?"
"Cousin," said the giant, slowly, "Fanfaro is a treasure! Do you know,
he is of a different breed from us; no, do not contradict me, I know
what I am speaking about. I am an athlete; I have arms like logs and
hands like claws, therefore it is no wonder that I perform difficult
exercises; but Fanfaro is tender and fine; he has arms and hands like a
girl, and skin like velvet, yet he can stand more than I can. He can
down two of me, yet he is soft and shrewd, and has a heart of gold."
"Then you love him as much as you used to do?" laughed the host, in a
satisfied way.
"Much more if it is possible; I--"
The giant stopped short, and when Schwan followed the direction of his
eye, he saw that the wagon which carried the fortune of Cesar Girdel had
rolled into the courtyard.
Upon four high wheels a large open box swung to and fro; on its four
sides were various colored posts, which served to carry the curtains,
which shut out the interior of the box from the eyes of the curious
world. The red and white curtains were now cast aside, and one could see
a mass of iron poles, rags, weights, empty barrels, hoops with and
without purple silk paper, the use of which was not clear to profane
eyes.
The driver was dressed in yellow woollen cloth, and could at once be
seen to be a clown; he wore a high pasteboard cap adorned with bells,
and while he swung the whip with his right hand he held a trumpet in his
left, which he occasionally put to his lips and blew a blast loud enough
to wake the very stones. The man's face was terribly thin, his nose was
long and straight, and small dark eyes sparkled maliciously from under
his bushy eyebrows.
Behind Bobichel, for this was the clown's name, Caillette, the giant's
daughter, was seated. Her father had not overpraised his daughter: the
tender, rosy face of the young girl had wonderfully refined features;
deep blue soulful eyes lay half hidden under long, dark eyelashes, and
gold-blond locks fell over her white neck. Caillette appeared to be
enjoying herself, for her silvery laugh sounded continually, while she
was conversing with Bobichel.
At the rear of the wagon upon a heap of bedding sat a woman whose
dimensions were fabulous. She was about forty-five years of age; her
face looked as if it had been chopped with an axe; the small eyes almost
disappeared beneath the puffed cheeks, and the broad breast as well as
the thick, red arms and claw-like hands were repulsive in the extreme.
Bushy hair of a dirty yellow color hung in a confused mass over the
shoulders of the virago, and her blue cloth jacket and woollen dress
were full of grease spots.
Robeckal walked beside the wagon. He was of small stature, but nervous
and muscular. The small face lighted up by shrewd eyes had a yellowish
color; the long, thin arms would have done honor to a gorilla, and the
elasticity of his bones was monkeyish in the extreme. He wore a suit of
faded blue velvet, reddish brown hair only half covered his head, and a
mocking laugh lurked about the corners of his lips while he was softly
speaking to Rolla.
Bobichel now jumped from the wagon. Girdel hurried from the house and
cordially exclaimed:
"Welcome, children; you have remained out long and are not hungry, are
you?"
"I could eat pebblestones," replied Bobichel, laughing. "Ah, there is
Schwan too. Well, old boy, how have you been getting along?"
While the host and the clown were holding a conversation, Girdel went to
the wagon and stretched out his arms.
"Jump, daughter," he laughingly said.
Caillette did not hesitate long; she rose on her pretty toes and swung
herself over the edge of the wagon into her father's arms. The latter
kissed her heartily on both cheeks, and then placed her on the ground.
He then glanced around, and anxiously asked:
"Where is Fanfaro?"
"Here, Papa Firejaws," came cheerfully from the interior of the wagon,
and at the same moment a dark head appeared in sight above a large box.
The head was followed by a beautifully formed body, and placing his hand
lightly on the edge of the wagon, Fanfaro swung gracefully to the
ground.
"Madcap, can't you stop turning?" scolded Girdel, laughingly; "go into
the house and get your breakfast!"
Caillette, Fanfaro, and Bobichel went away; Girdel turned to his wife
and pleasantly said:
"Rolla, I will now help you down."
Rolla looked at him sharply, and then said in a rough, rasping voice:
"Didn't I call you, Robeckal? Come and help me down!"
Robeckal, who had been observing the chickens in the courtyard, slowly
approached the wagon.
"What do you want?" he asked.
"Help me down," repeated Rolla.
Girdel remained perfectly calm, but a careful observer might have
noticed the veins on his forehead swell. He measured Rolla and Robeckal
with a peculiar look, and before his look Rolla's eyes fell.
"Robeckal, are you coming?" cried the virago, impatiently.
"What do you wish here?" asked Girdel, coolly, as Robeckal turned to
Rolla.
"What do I wish here?" replied Robeckal; "Madame Girdel has done me the
honor to call me, and--"
"And you are thinking rather long about it," interrupted Rolla, gruffly.
"I am here," growled Robeckal, laying his hand upon the edge of the
wagon.
"No further!" commanded Girdel, in a threatening voice.
"Ha! who is going to prevent me?"
"I, wretch!" thundered Firejaws, in whose eyes a warning glance shone.
"Bah! you are getting angry about nothing," said Robeckal, mockingly,
placing his other hand on the edge of the wagon.
"Strike him, Robeckal!" cried Rolla, urgingly.
Robeckal raised his right hand, but at the same moment the athlete
stretched him on the ground with a blow of his fist; he could thank his
stars that Girdel had not struck him with his full force, or else
Robeckal would never have got up again. With a cry of rage he sprung up
and threw himself upon the giant, who waited calmly for him with his
arms quietly folded over his breast; a sword shone in Robeckal's hand,
and how it happened neither he nor Rolla knew, but immediately after he
lay on top of the wagon, close to the Cannon Queen.
"Enough of your rascality, Robeckal," said the voice of him who had
thrown the angry man upon the wagon.
"I thought the wretched boy would come between us again," hissed Rolla;
and without waiting for any further help she sprung from the wagon and
rushed upon Fanfaro, for he it was who had come to Girdel's assistance.
"Back, Rolla!" exclaimed Firejaws, hoarsely, as he laid his iron fist
upon his wife's shoulder. Schwan came to the door and cordially said:
"Where are your comrades? The soup is waiting."
Robeckal hurriedly glided from the wagon, and approaching close to
Rolla, he whispered a few words in her ear.
"Let me go, Girdel," said the giantess. "Who would take such a stupid
joke in earnest? Come, I am hungry."
Firejaws looked at his wife in amazement. Her face, which had been
purple with anger, was now overspread by a broad grin, and shrugging his
shoulders, Girdel walked toward the house. Fanfaro followed, and
Robeckal and Rolla remained alone.
"We must make an end of it, Rolla," grumbled Robeckal.
"I am satisfied. The sooner the better!"
"Good. I shall do it to-night. See that you take a little walk afterward
on the country road. I will meet you there and tell you my plan."
"Do so. Let us go to dinner now, I am hungry."
When Rolla and Robeckal entered the dining-room, Girdel, Caillette,
Bobichel, and Fanfaro were already sitting at table, and Schwan was just
bringing in a hot, steaming dish.