POOR BOBICHEL.
More than two hours had elapsed since the departure of the two spies.
The little town of Saint Ame was plunged in profound obscurity. The wind
raged down the narrow street, and the roar and rush of the torrent was
heard in the distance.
One of the rooms in the inn presented a singular aspect. Caillette lay
exhausted on her bed, but she was not asleep; she lay with her eyes wide
open thinking of Fanfar. The poor little creature's heart was very sore,
but she was too innocent to know why. She felt a vague terror
complicated by a certain bitterness. She felt without understanding.
Suddenly, she heard a strange noise. She looked around the room, dimly
lighted by a night-lamp. On the floor lay the giantess, who had drank
too much brandy. Robeccal had said a few words to her before he went
away with the lacquey. She did not seem to understand him, but fell into
a doze while he was talking. When she awoke, though by no means herself,
she determined to rise from her bed. She did so, and staggered half
across the room, then fell on the floor. Half laughing she looked about,
and met the surprised, half frightened eyes of Caillette. This was not
the first time that the young girl had surprised her in this degraded
condition but this time she was more than ever shocked, and shuddered
perceptibly.
All at once, the giantess seemed to recognize in Caillette an enemy. She
uttered a sound that was almost a growl, and, unable to stand, crawled
across the room to the girl's bed.
Caillette recoiled until she could go no further. She wanted to scream,
but her tongue clove to the roof of her mouth.
La Roulante saw her terror, and laughed. Determined to torture the
child, she began to talk.
"You want your Fanfar, don't you? Let me tell you that he cares not a
sou whether you live or die."
She stopped talking for a few minutes, and seemed to be reflecting.
"No, I won't kill you--it is not worth while. What was it that my little
Bob said to me? Where has he gone, I should like to know!"
She repeated these words over and over again. Presently she vaguely
recalled what Robeccal had last said to her.
"'He will not be long,' he said, 'he was going--' Where was he going?
Oh! for the police--Gudel and Fanfar had better look out!"
She now crawled away from the bed until she found the brandy bottle,
which she drained, all the time saying over and over confused words
about the police and papers which would cost two persons their lives.
Although Caillette did not understand, she saw that there was danger,
pressing and immediate, for both Gudel and Fanfar. She waited until La
Roulante's heavy breathing showed that she was asleep, and then the
young girl cautiously crept from her bed and to the door, which,
fortunately, was not locked. She hurried to her father's room. Some one
lay before the door. She stooped and recognized the faithful clown, who
had thus mounted guard.
"Bobichel! I must speak to my father," she whispered.
"What! is it you, little Caillette? Is there trouble?"
"Yes--and not one moment to lose!"
Bobichel was wide awake and on his feet. He opened the door for
Caillette. Her father was on the bed asleep. Fanfar was asleep, too,
sitting in his chair.
Fanfar started up. "Caillette!" he exclaimed.
"Yes--wake my father at once!"
"He is so weary, and needs rest."
"It is a question of your liberty--his liberty and your lives!"
Gudel now opened his eyes.
"What is the matter, child?" he asked.
"The police are coming to arrest you!"
"What nonsense!"
Caillette instantly repeated the disconnected words uttered by La
Roulante.
"She can't know anything!" said Gudel, uneasily. "Bobichel!" he called.
"I am here, master!" answered the clown.
"Where is Robeccal?"
"I don't know--he went away three hours ago."
"Where was he going?"
"I don't know--I was too sleepy to ask."
Gudel questioned Caillette again. "Had La Roulante distinctly spoken of
papers?"
It was only too clear that there had been spies in their camp.
"Fanfar," said Gudel, "when one accepts a mission like ours his life no
longer belongs to himself. We must fly, and at once!"
"But how?"
"We will take the horses that belong to the chariot."
"And do you forget me, father?" asked Caillette.
"No--I confide you to Bobichel."
"Oh! Fanfar, do not leave me!" sobbed the young girl.
"Dear child, there are great dangers to run!"
"Yes, but with you I should not be afraid."
"And master--am I to be left behind?" asked the clown.
"Very well, we four will go, then," answered Gudel. "But you forget that
we have not horses enough," he added.
"But I have legs," interposed Bobichel, "and I can overtake you wherever
you go. You can take Caillette on behind."
"Yes, that would do very well, would it not, Fanfar?" asked the girl,
eagerly.
"Where shall we go?" said Fanfar to Gudel.
"We had best take the road to Paris. If we are pursued, we shall find a
hiding-place there as well as anywhere else."
"Shall we wake Schwann?" asked the clown.
"No, no--what is the use? I do not wish him to be compromised, either,
and when they question him they will find that he really knows nothing.
You, Bobichel, bring out the horses--the saddles are in the wagon. Go,
and make haste!"
Gudel here stopped short.
"My wife!" he said.
"But, master, it is she who has betrayed you!" cried Bobichel.
"It is she who has saved us!" Gudel replied.
"Yes, but without meaning to do so."
"I must see her, at all events."
And Gudel hurried to her room, and beheld her lying in a drunken stupor
on the floor. He shook his head sadly.
"After all, she has nothing to fear, and we may as well part in this way
as in any other--the end was coming!"
And he returned to his daughter and his friends, who in the meantime had
been making a rope of the sheets and blankets on the bed. With their aid
Bobichel dropped from the window.
"Now it is my turn!" said Caillette, and, light as a bird, she seized
the rope.
"Take care, child! Take care!" cried Fanfar.
"Would it pain you," she asked quickly, "if I came to grief?"
"Hush! child."
Little Caillette was very gay, and it was with a pretty, childish laugh
that she swung herself to the ground, where in two minutes her father
and Fanfar also stood.
The two horses, all saddled, stood ready.
"You have the papers, Fanfar?" asked Gudel, in a whisper.
"Yes--I have them."
"Then let us start at once."
Caillette, without the smallest hesitation, sprang on Fanfar's horse.
"And you, Bobichel?"
"Don't be troubled about me!"
"Hark!" cried Fanfar.
They listened, and heard distinctly the tread of horses in the distance.
"The police!" said Bobichel.
"They have lost no time, at all events!" And Gudel laughed. "But we have
the advantage, and I know a cross-road which will cut off a good bit."
The two horses stepped gingerly out of Schwann's premises, and when once
on the high road dashed madly forward. The inn was wrapped in silence
and almost in darkness--only one room was lighted, the one where the
Marquis sat, impatient and anxious. He, too, heard the horses galloping.
His plan had succeeded, then. In a few minutes the house would be
surrounded.
A group of horsemen suddenly appeared on the Square. Robeccal and
Cyprien were with them.
When Robeccal went away, he had taken the precaution to leave a window
open on the lower floor, which Schwann had not discovered in making his
rounds for the night.
Robeccal entered through this window and opened the door.
Schwann was aroused by footsteps below, and rushed down the stairs.
Seeing the police in uniform, he uttered an exclamation.
"The police in my house!" he cried.
"I ask your pardon, sir," answered the Brigadier of police, "but there
was urgent need. In the name of the king!"
Schwann repeated the words with a sigh.
"You have conspirators lodging here--enemies of the monarchy!"
"You are greatly mistaken, Brigadier--"
"Not so. Their names are Gudel and Fanfar."
Schwann laughed. "That is ridiculous!" he said.
"That may be, but I have orders to arrest these men! Where are they?"
"I will show you!" said Robeccal, quickly. The door of the chamber was
locked.
"Break it in!" cried Robeccal.
"Wait! Law before all else." And standing in a military attitude, the
Brigadier shouted: "In the name of the king, open!"
As may be supposed, there was no reply. Then, with his shoulder, the
Brigadier burst it open.
"Gone!" roared Robeccal, and looking round he quickly espied the
improvised rope at the window, and flew down the stairs.
Cyprien drew the Brigadier aside. "Spare no exertion. The fate of France
depends on you, now!" he said.
The Brigadier became immensely important on hearing these words. He took
a lantern and hunted for traces of the fugitives.
"This way!" cried Robeccal, "they have made their escape toward the
forest."
"I know every inch of the forest," answered the Brigadier, waving his
sword, as if he were about to attack an enemy.
Cyprien stood biting his lips. Could it be that Fanfar was to escape him
now? The police rode off at a rapid pace, and Cyprien felt that they
must overtake the fugitives.
About two miles from the village the road wound round a hill, on one
side of which was a deep precipice. Day was breaking, and Robeccal, who
of course had joined in the pursuit, rose in his stirrups in hopes to
see some sign of the men they were pursuing.
Suddenly one of the horses fell, then the one behind meeting with the
same obstacle, fell also, until five out of the seven were on the
ground.
"It is a rope!" cried the Brigadier, "a rope stretched across the
road--the rascals!"
The men who were in their saddles leaped to the ground and endeavored to
assist their comrades, one of whom had a leg broken.
Robeccal stamped with rage.
"Halloo!" cried a voice, "you had best meddle with honest people
again!" And Bobichel, standing on the side of the road, danced with
glee.
"You shall pay for that!" shouted Robeccal, and snatching a pistol from
the belt of one of the police, he fired at Bobichel.
The clown flung out his arms. "They are saved, at all events!" he
shouted, as he disappeared, falling into the abyss at his feet.
Fanfar and Gudel were far away. Poor Bobichel!