"I AM HERE!"
Pleased at the success of his mission, although disappointed at not
having made further progress in the graces of the two girls whom he was
pleased to regard as shepherdesses, he cast his eye first to the shut
door of the caravan and then to the silent face of the tavern, and was
about to rejoin his illustrious master with all speed when his attention
was arrested by a singular figure advancing towards him from the Paris
road. This person was tall and thin and bony, with a weakly amiable face
fringed with flaxen hair, and timid eyes that blinked under pink eyelids.
He was dressed in black clothes of an extreme shabbiness, and the only
distinguishing feature of his appearance was a particularly long and
formidable sword that flapped against his calves. The fellow was at once
so fantastic and so ridiculous that Chavernay, whose sense of humor was
always lively, regarded him with much curiosity and at the same time with
affected dismay.
"Is this ogre," he wondered to himself, "one of the protecting giants who
guard the fair nymphs of this place, or is he rather some cruel guardian
appointed by the enchanter, who denies them intercourse with agreeable
mankind?" Thus Chavernay mused, affecting the fancies of some fashionable
romance; and then, finding that his attentions appeared strangely to
embarrass the angular individual in black, he turned on his heels to make
for the bridge, and again came to a halt, for on the bridge appeared
another figure as grotesque as the first-comer, but grotesque in a wholly
different manner.
This second stranger was as burly as the first was lean, and as gaudy in
his apparel as the first was simple. The petals of the iris, the plumes
of the peacock seemed to have been pillaged by him for the colors that
made up his variegated wardrobe. A purple pourpoint, crimson breeches, an
amber-colored cloak, and a huge hat with a blue feather set off a figure
of extravagantly martial presence. Where the face of the first-comer was
pale, insignificant, and timid, that of the second-comer was ruddy,
assertive, and bold. The only point in common with his predecessor was
that he, too, swung at his side a monstrous rapier. The sight of this
whimsical stranger was too much for Chavernay's self-restraint, and he
burst into a hearty fit of laughter, which he made no effort to control.
"What a scarecrow!" he muttered, looking back at the individual in black.
"What a gorgon!" he continued, as his eyes travelled to the man in
motley. "Gog and Magog, by Heavens!" he commented, as he surveyed the
astonishing pair.
Then, still laughing, he ran across the bridge and left the two objects
of his mirth glaring after him in indignation. Indeed, so indignant were
they, and so steadily did they keep their angry eyes fixed upon the
retreating figure of the marquis, while each continued his original
course of progression, that the two men, heedless of each other, ran into
each other with an awkward thump that recalled to each of them the fact
that there were other persons in the world as well as an impertinent
gentleman with nimble heels. The man in black and the man in many colors
each clapped a hand to a sword-hilt, only to withdraw it instantly and
extend it in sign of amicable greeting.
"Passepoil!" cried the man in many colors.
"Cocardasse!" cried the man in black.
"To my arms, brother, to my arms!" cried Cocardasse, and in a moment the
amazing pair were clasped in each other's embrace.
"Is it really you?" said Cocardasse, when he thought the embrace had
lasted long enough, holding Passepoil firmly by the shoulders and gazing
fixedly into his pale, pathetic face.