MISCHIEF.
While these people were repairing the fatigues of their journey, a door
opened very softly at the end of the room. But Schwann heard it. This
door had access to the stairs which led to the upper floor. He instantly
hastened toward the person, who stood half concealed.
This man was about forty, small, and wearing a brown cloth coat, braided
and trimmed with Astrachan. His vest was blue, as was a neckerchief. He
wore straps and spurs--a costume, in fact, in the last mode of 1825--and
yet, no human being looked less like a dandy. His feet were huge, his
hands ugly and bony. His face expressed timidity and hypocrisy. He took
off his hat as Schwann approached. The stranger's eyes were half closed,
as if the light from the long windows pained them--in reality, he was
examining each face at the table.
"You want breakfast, sir, I presume?" asked the innkeeper.
"Yes," said the other, "yes, yes," but he did not seem to have
understood the question, although he took a seat at one of the tables.
"Give me some brandy!" he said. "I am expecting some one, and when he
comes you will serve our breakfast up-stairs."
"Very good, sir!" And Schwann walked away. "He is the intendant of some
great lord, I fancy," he said to himself.
Again the door opened, and two more customers appeared. One looked like
a horse jockey, the other, though in citizen's dress, was without doubt
an old soldier. His heavy gray moustache imparted a certain harshness to
his expression, though his eyes were frank and honest.
"Where shall I serve your breakfast, gentlemen?" asked the innkeeper.
There was a little hesitation. The last arrivals noticed the man in the
brown braided coat, and did not seem to like his appearance. It was
plain that some mysterious tie existed among these travelers, however,
for Iron Jaws, hearing the voices of the new-comers, looked up and
exchanged a rapid glance with them.
"We will eat there," said one of the two men, pointing to a table at
some distance from the man in brown, who smiled slightly as he saw the
gesture. He himself had been in the meantime supplied with a decanter of
brandy, and now took some newspapers from his pocket, one of which he
began to read, holding it in such a way that he was concealed from the
observation of every one in the room.
When Schwann brought in a delicious-looking omelette, the horse jockey
said, in a loud voice:
"Is Remisemont far from here?"
"Remisemont! Ah! gentlemen, it is plain that you do not belong in these
parts. It is not more than two leagues away."
"Then we can easily get there this afternoon?"
Schwann saw that he had made a blunder, and endeavored to retrieve it.
"We had better call it three leagues, and the road is a bad one, and you
have to ford the river. There has been a great deal of rain, and two men
were drowned there last year; and, by the way, they looked much like
you."
"Many thanks!" And the old soldier laughed.
"They didn't know the road, you see----"
"But you can furnish us with a guide?"
"Yes, but not to-day."
"And why not?"
"Because I am alone in the house."
The mountebanks had by this time finished their meal. Gudel came toward
the two men.
"If these gentlemen desire it," he said, politely, "I will take them on
early to-morrow morning in my wagon."
"That is an excellent idea!" cried the innkeeper. "With Iron Jaws there
is no danger."
The strange costume worn by Gudel, and the equally strange name by which
Schwann called him, did not seem to amaze the two strangers. They
consulted each other with a look, and then courteously accepted the
offer.
"I give a little representation here to-night," Gudel continued, "and
start at an early hour for Remisemont."
Nothing could have been more natural than this scene, nor that Gudel
should have accepted the brandy and water offered him, and it would have
been a very distrustful nature that would have suspected any secret
understanding between Gudel and the two men with whom he was now
drinking. Nevertheless, the man behind the newspaper, who had not lost a
word of this dialogue, smiled until he showed every tooth in his head.
The giantess and Robeccal left the room together. After a few words
together, Robeccal returned, and asked Gudel if he wanted him again, and
when his employer said no, that he was at liberty, he once more left the
room. The man behind the newspaper did the same, and the two met in the
passage.
"One word, if you please," said the man in the brown coat. "Answer me
frankly, and you shall have twenty francs. Who is Iron Jaws?"
"A mountebank."
"He has another name?"
"Yes--Gudel."
"Do you know the two men with whom he is talking?"
"No."
"You hate him?"
"What is that to you?"
"A good deal, and to you, too, if you wish him any harm. You are a
member of his troupe?"
"Not for long, you had better believe!"
"Long enough to earn a few louis?"
"What do you want done?"
"I will tell you. If you hate this Gudel I will give you an opportunity
to pay off your score, and I will pay you at the same time."
"That is nonsense!"
"All right. I am in no hurry. I can wait an hour or two."
The man took a louis from his pocket and dropped it on the ground.
Robeccal put his foot upon it. During this brief colloquy the two men
had not looked at each other. The stranger lounged away, indifferent to
all appearance, and Robeccal picked up the gold and disappeared in a
different direction.
Meanwhile, Gudel was talking in a low voice to his apparently new
acquaintances. Schwann had returned to his saucepans.
"Well?" said the soldier, leaning over his glass as if to smell the
wine.
"All goes well," answered Gudel. "The grain was well sown--the harvest
waits."
"We will talk elsewhere. Did you notice that fellow who sat reading over
there in the corner?"
"Yes--a bad face. A lacquey, I think."
"A lacquey or a spy. Look out for him! Now, when and where can I see you
quietly?"
"To-night, after the representation, in my room or yours."
"In yours, then. We will wait until the house is quiet. Leave your door
open. And now, be careful that no one suspects our presence here!"
"What! not even Fanfar? You need not distrust him. He is good, brave,
and devoted to you."
"We will talk of that later on." In a louder voice he said: "Then,
comrade, we will accept your offer, and go with you to Remisemont
to-morrow."
Gudel nodded, then called Fanfar.
"To work, my lad," he cried. "We must stir up these excellent people in
this village. Schwann, where is my permit from the mayor?"
Schwann hurried in wiping his hands, and from under a pile of plates he
drew out a paper.
"Fanfar, sign it for me, your hand is better than mine, for the truth is
I never learned to write. And now this is done, we must go forth and
warn the people of the great pleasure in store for them."