"All that is mountebank business. Here, you braggart, let me see you
do what I am going to do."
Putting a finger of each hand into the muzzle of a gun, he held the
weapons out before him, at arm's-length.
"Pooh!" said Courte-Joie, while Trigaud looked on with a movement of
the lips that might pass for a smile at Pinguet's feat,--"pooh! bring
two more guns."
When the guns were brought Trigaud put all four muzzles on the fingers
of one hand and raised them to the level of his eye, without any
contraction of the muscles that betrayed an effort. Pinguet was
distanced forever in the struggle.
Then rummaging in his pocket, Trigaud brought out a horse-shoe, which
he folded in two as easily as an ordinary man would fold a leather
strap. After each of his experiments he turned his eyes to
Courte-Joie, asking for a smile; then Courte-Joie would signify by a
nod that he was satisfied.
"Come," said Aubin, "you've only earned our suppers so far; now you
must get us a night's lodging. Isn't that so, my good gentlemen? If my
comrade does something more wonderful still, won't you give us a
little hay and a corner in the stable to lie on?"
"As for that, it is impossible," said the sergeant of the company,
who, being attracted by the shouts and plaudits of the soldiers, had
come to share the sight; "the orders are strict."
This answer seemed to discourage Courte-Joie greatly; his weasel-face
grew serious.
"Never mind," said one of the men; "we'll club together, and get you
ten sous, which will pay for a bed at the nearest tavern, and that
will be softer than buckwheat hay."
"If the ox you ride has legs as solid as his arms," said another, "a
mile or two farther won't trouble you."
"First, let's see the performance!" cried the soldiers. "Show us his
best thing."
There was no repelling this enthusiasm, and Courte-Joie yielded with
an alacrity which showed his confidence in his comrade's biceps.
"Have you a grindstone here, or anything that weighs about twelve or
fifteen hundred pounds?" he asked.
"There's the block of stone you are sitting on," said a soldier.
Courte-Joie shrugged his shoulders.
"If that stone had a handle Trigaud would pick it up for you with one
hand."
"There's that millstone we tipped up before the grating of the
dungeon," said a soldier.
"Why not tell him to lift the whole building at once?" said the
corporal. "It took six of you men to put it where it is, and with
levers, too. I was furious that my rank forbade me from lending a hand
to what I called a pack of idlers."
"Besides, you must not touch that millstone," interposed the sergeant;
"that's also against orders. There's a prisoner in the cellar."
Courte-Joie gave Trigaud a glance, and the latter, paying no attention
to the sergeant's remark, went straight to the millstone.
"Don't you hear me?" said the sergeant, raising his voice, and
catching Trigaud by the arm; "you are not to touch it."
"Why not?" said Courte-Joie. "If he moves it he'll replace it; don't
be afraid."
"Besides," said a soldier, "if you look at the mouse they have got in
the trap you'll see it would never run away if it could,--a poor
little monsieur who might be taken for a woman in disguise. I thought
at first he was the Duchesse de Berry herself."
"Yes, and he's too busy crying to think of escape," said the corporal,
who was evidently burning with the desire to see the feat. "When we
took him his food, Pinguet and I,--that is, I and Pinguet,--he burst
into tears; I declare if his eyes weren't two faucets!"
"Well, well," said the sergeant, who was no less curious than the rest
to see how the tramp would accomplish his Titanic task, "I will take
the responsibility of allowing it."
Trigaud profited by the permission. He seized the millstone between
his arms at its base, leaned his shoulder on its centre, and with a
powerful effort tried to raise it. But the weight of this enormous
mass of stone had sunk it into the ground on which it rested to the
depth of some four or five inches, and the adherence of this earth
socket, thus hollowed, neutralized Trigaud's efforts.
Courte-Joie, who had entered the circle of soldiers by creeping on his
hands and knees, like a huge scarab[oe]us, called attention to the
nature of the difficulty; then with a large flat stone which he picked
up, and partly also with his hands, he grubbed out the earth which
hindered the success of Trigaud's feat. The giant then applied himself
once more to the work. Soon he raised the huge block and held it up
for a few seconds, resting against his shoulder and also against the
wall, about a foot from the ground.
The enthusiasm of the soldiers knew no bounds. They pressed around
Trigaud and overwhelmed him with congratulations to which he seemed
perfectly insensible; they shouted in frantic admiration, which was
shared by the corporal, and then, through the natural hierarchy of
rank, by the sergeant himself. They talked of carrying Trigaud in
triumph to the sutler's, where the reward of his vigor awaited him,
swearing by every oath known to the sons of Mars that Trigaud deserved
not only the bread and soup and meat promised by the corporal, but the
rations of a general, or indeed of the king of France, which would be
none too much to maintain the strength required for such prowess.
As we have said, Trigaud seemed in no way puffed-up by his triumph;
his countenance remained as impassible as that of an ox allowed to
breathe after some powerful exertion. His eyes, however, sought those
of Aubin Courte-Joie, as if to ask "Master, are you satisfied?"
Courte-Joie, on the other hand, looked radiant, possibly because of
the impression made upon the spectators by a strength he considered
his own, though it far exceeded that which Nature had originally
bestowed upon him. Perhaps, however, his satisfaction was really
caused by the success of a little man[oe]uvre he had cleverly
performed while the attention of all was concentrated on his
companion,--a man[oe]uvre which consisted in slipping under the
millstone the large flat stone he held in his hand, placing it in such
a way that the enormous mass which closed the grating of the cellar
was so poised upon its smooth surface that the strength of a child
would suffice to displace it.
The two beggars were taken to the sutler's, and there Trigaud
furnished still another text of admiration to the soldiers. After he
had swallowed an enormous canful of soup, four rations of beef and two
loaves of bread were placed before him. Trigaud ate the first loaf
with the first two rations; then, as if by changing his method of
deglutition he changed and improved the taste of the objects
swallowed, he took his second loaf, split it in two, scooped out and
ate, by way of pastime, the crumb within it, placed the meat in the
cavity, put the two halves of the crust together, and proceeded to
bite through the whole with a coolness and force of jaw which brought
down thunders of applause from the delighted audience.
After about five minutes of this exercise nothing remained of either
bread or meat but a few crumbs of the loaf, which Trigaud, apparently
ready to begin all over again, carefully collected. His admirers
hastened to bring him a third loaf, which, though stale and dry,
Trigaud treated like the first two.
The soldiers were not yet satisfied; they would have liked to push
their investigations still further, but the sergeant thought it more
prudent to bring their scientific curiosity to an end. Courte-Joie had
now become thoughtful, and his expression was noticed by the soldiers.
"Ah, _ça!_" said the corporal; "here you are, eating and drinking on
the earnings of your comrade. That's not fair; it seems to me you
might give us a song, if only to pay your scot."
"Unquestionably," said the sergeant.
"Yes, yes, a song!" cried the soldiers, "and then the affair will be
complete."
"Hum!" muttered Courte-Joie. "I know some songs, of course I do."
"All right then, sing away!"
"But my songs mayn't be to your liking."
"Never mind,--so long as it isn't a fugue for the devil's funeral,
anything will be fun to us; we are not hard to please at
Saint-Colombin."
"Yes," said Courte-Joie, "I can see that; you are horribly bored."
"Monstrously," said the sergeant.
"We don't expect you to sing like Monsieur Nourrit," observed a
Parisian.
"Make it a bit quizzical," said another man, "and the more the
better."
"As I have eaten your bread and drunk your wine," said Courte-Joie, "I
have no right to refuse you anything; but, I repeat it, my songs will
probably not be to your taste."